#title is from ''bury me in black'' by my chemical romance. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gxrlcinema · 3 years

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(bury me) in all my favorite colors

PAIRING: Emo!Wanda Maximoff x Sokovian! Reader

SUMMARY: Your world went gray when Wanda chose HYDRA over being with you. When she shows up at your door, it has you seeing red.

A/N: This fic is for @elijahs-wife's 1k followers writing challenge! The prompt was "I'd give up forever to touch you, 'cause I know that you feel me somehow / You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be and I don't want to go home right now" from "Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls. I don't know how on prompt it turned out to be, but here it is. This is my first time writing Wanda, so please let me know what you think! Title is from "Cancer" by My Chemical Romance.

WARNING(S): angst, unhealthy relationship dynamics, lightly implied smut, mentions of HYDRA, no happy endings we die like men

WC: 2,093 (idk how this happened this fic has no business being this long)

MASTERLIST / AO3

MOODBOARD FOR THIS FIC (made by @belladonnabarnes)

Your apartment building is ugly; five floors of thin walls with little insulation and no elevators. The outside is no better, just a wretched gray color and rows of windows. Most of the buildings in Novi Grad are equally as dull. It’s the remnants of communist architecture, cheap and functional with all the aesthetic appeal fascist states have to offer. You’re almost grateful for days like today, when the rain comes down so hard against your window that you can’t make out the details of the identical building across the street.

Your Sokovia used to burst with all different hues. Nights were spent in the neon glow of downtown bars, days were filled with protests and the tangible red hot fury of your friends and fellow countrymen. But then HYDRA had shown up with their promises of painting the streets in blood-red revolution. Not one of your friends had come back after going in for HYDRA’s experiments. Nobody does. The last of your colors had run out with your girlfriend, when she abandoned you, seduced by HYDRA’s bloody promises too.

(It shouldn’t have surprised you. You knew Wanda Maximoff down to your bones, and she’d always been capable of doing the wrong thing and convincing herself it was for the right reasons. She’d always been hungry for revenge. Besides, red was her color.)

A knock at your door startles you from your thoughts. It’s specific: one, two-three. You recognize the pattern instantly, breath catching in your throat.

It can’t be.

The knock comes again, more frantic this time but the same beat. One, two-three. You rise from the couch, eyes trained on your front door. One, two-three, it comes again. One, two-three; one, two-three; one, two-three.

You rush towards your front door before you can even think about it, desperation clawing at your throat. Your hands are unlatching all three locks and your chest is swelling with foolish, golden hope and you finally get it unlocked and swing the door wide open only to reveal-

“Wanda.”

Mid-knock. Dripping from the heavy rain and shaking like a leaf. Peridot eyes trail up and down your whole form, and then they catch yours.

She’s as vivid as she is in the technicolor memories that play in your mind all day long. Her long dark hair, wet and stuck to her forehead, arranged in a braid down her left side. She’s clad in a black leather jacket, and your favorite red minidress of hers, black tights disappearing into the well-worn combat boots on her feet. Her eyeliner is the same charcoal black, running in gray streaks down her pale cheeks, a casualty of the rain.

“Y/n,” she says, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

(You’d always sworn she was a witch; that there was an ancient blood magic in her smile that could make you forget your own name.)

You step back from the door and let her in without a moment of hesitation.

Her waterlogged combat boots squelch against the hardwood floors as she enters your apartment. She gives you a sheepish smile, removing them along with her sweater and tights and leaving them in a pile beside the door. You go to sit on the couch but you don’t take your eyes off her the entire time. If she’s a mirage, you don’t want her to disappear.

Once she’s shucked the wettest of her clothes, she walks over to the couch. You hand her a blanket and she smiles politely, wrapping it around herself. She settles herself at the far end of the couch (not close the way she used to, when you’d complain she was practically on top of you and the ghost of the child she’d never been haunted her laugh).

Wanda shifts her gaze across your living room rug. Her brother, Pietro, had gotten it for you years ago, when you moved into this apartment. Wanda had insisted on the rich maroon, to “bring color to that shithole you live in”. She had helped you decorate, giving her blunt input on just about everything in your place. Now, she looks like she’s taking in its details for the first time. In just a matter of months, she’s become a stranger in your home.

The gulf between you is really just the length of two couch cushions - about the size of Pietro, you knew from experience - but it feels insurmountable. You don’t know why, but it feels like she’s getting further from you. It’s as though every moment you sit here in stilted silence she slips further and further away.

“I didn’t think you’d ever come back here,” you say, unable to bear the thought of her getting further for another second.

Wanda purses her lips. “I wanted to see you,” she says without looking up.

You know Wanda Maximoff down to your bones, so you know her tells. That tick in her jaw, the inability to make eye contact - Wanda doesn’t shy away when she wants something, only when she’s scared she won’t get it. What you don’t know is why. What could be so awful that she’d come all the way here and not say it to you? What could she do that you wouldn’t forgive? What would she not want to admit?

No.

Your blood runs cold, your eyes scanning over her once again. Wanda still does not look at you, but you can see it now, how her profile is tinged in an unmistakable shade of shame.

(Not one of your friends had come back after going in for one of HYDRA’s experiments. Nobody does.)

She must sense your recognition. “Pietro and I report for experimentation tomorrow morning.”

All your air abandons your lungs from the impact. It is one thing to know that someone is dying; it is quite another to discover that they’re basically already dead. The golden hope that had risen in you earlier shrivels back like a dead vine. Your whole body is numb, and you feel so pathetic, so stupid, to think she’d come back for you-

“I begged you,” you whisper.

(You had begged her. You’d stood a foot from where you’re sitting now, on the verge of tears. Don’t do this to me, you’d pleaded. Don’t force me to watch you die. And then you’d watched her collect her things and walk out of your life, because she loved you enough to give you that mercy.)

“I know,” she says. She doesn’t sound the least bit sorry.

(You should’ve known better. Wanda has no mercy.)

A bitter laugh fills the room, and only after seeing Wanda flinch do you realize that it’s yours. The anger catches up with you all at once, gnawing away at the numbness of your shock. Your hands shake in your lap. Your cheeks heat. Why should you be shocked, when you know Wanda down to your bones? She has always had an equal capacity for compassion and cruelty. You have always loved her bittersweet. Wanda was the type to love you so much she needed to see you again.

You push yourself up from the couch, unsure of what you’re going to do but incapable of holding yourself still any longer, of being here without an exit strategy. Wanda must read it on your face, because she jolts up from the couch and grips your arms in a frenzy. You try to shake her off, to distance yourself from her, but Wanda isn’t going anywhere. She’s so close to you, you can see every detail of her face.

Tears clump in her long eyelashes, muddle the smudgy mess that’s already been made of her eyeliner. Beneath it, you can see the faded violet of sleepless nights.

“I miss you so much,” she says, a prayer and a plea and the barest hint of the apology she’ll never give you. “I don’t want to miss you tonight.”

She is so young and so old all at once; the ghost of the child she never was and the spirit of the woman she’ll never get to be twisting her face in different directions. Her eyes are wide, pleading and fearful and nervous and hopeful and only a little bit sorry. It’s not fair; she’s finally looking at you, but it gives you no satisfaction. It just makes your chest ache for her.

You feel dizzy, feel like you’re going to suffocate on all the shades of blue and green and red she’s just shown you. You try again to pull away from her but she holds you firm. Your chest heaves, brushing up against hers with how close you are, and you think you could kill her for loving you this much and this wrong, and-

Oh.

Two truths hit you in a single moment:

The first is that Wanda didn’t come here for your kindness. She knew that you would be angry with her, that you wouldn’t be able to love her gently in the wake of what she’s told you (that you wouldn’t be able to love her gently at her wake). She wants you to destroy her. She wants you to end her before they do. If this is to be her last night on earth she wants punishment, wants absolution, wants to be known as the wretched thing she is so that someone might remember her correctly. She wants to be buried, and she wants you to do it.

The second - a truth so sickening and dirty and cruel that it makes your chest ache - is that she knows you’ll give her what she wants. Because you love her. Because you can’t leave her alone to suffer her last night on Earth when you could hold her hand through it. Wanda might have no mercy but you do.

You know Wanda Maximoff down to your bones. She knows you down to hers too.

Her eyes are hypnotic, as they look into yours now, the sage green around her irises calling to you like a siren song. All you need to do is lean in to seal your fate. All you need to do is-

Colors burst behind your eyelids as your lips meet hers.

The two of you mash yourselves together, more a battle than an embrace. Her hands find your waist in an unyielding grip, desperate in their mission to keep you exactly where you are. Your hands are all over, mapping every inch of her skin so that you might recall it later.

If it’s Wanda’s will to be remembered, you will remember her. You will remember the softness of her naked hip under your hand and the dried out skin of her lips. You will remember her merciless kiss. You will remember the sweet smell of her perfume and the satisfied sounds she makes as you dive deeper into the kiss. You will remember how she shivered, still wet from the cold, and how you held her closer on instinct.

Wanda is still soaking wet. When she finally allows you to breathe, you notice that there’s a large water spot on the front of your clothes. You take a minute to catch your breath.

“We should get cleaned up,” she says, voice soft and misplaced mischief sparkling in the depths of her eyes.

There’s a dreadful satisfaction in knowing someone well enough to predict their behavior and then seeing that behavior play out exactly as you thought it would. You can see it painted across her face. It makes you furious and you think you might cry but no - the tears do not come. You will not cry for Wanda Maximoff if she has not asked you to.

Wanda grabs your hand and gently pulls you into the bathroom down the hall. She smiles that blood magic smile again, as if she didn’t already have you right where she wanted you.

If it’s Wanda’s will to be buried tonight, let her be buried in you. Let her be buried in your pathetic little heart, broken too many times over but still beating furiously as she turns the shower on. Let her be buried along with all your other blood-red revolutionary friends. Let her be buried in the pain and fury and grief that will bubble up in you when you think back on tonight. Let her be buried in your kiss.

If it’s Wanda’s will to be buried tonight, let her be buried at the intersection of your white hot pain and her red hot rage. Let her be buried in your favorite shade of pink.

Special thanks to @firefly-graphics for the dividers, and @dizzydancingdreamer and @kneel-bitches for convincing me this was good enough.

taglist: @ladydmalfoy, @elijahs-wife, @babycap, @kneel-bitches

if you'd like to be added to my taglist, drop a message in my inbox letting me know.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch x reader #wanda mcu #wanda maximoff #ilana's fanfics #tays1kwritingchallenge

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the1918 · 3 years

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‘video’

Part 1/6 in the series entitled:

“Lynne Finds Her 2005 Bandslash Livejournal and Changes All The Names to ‘Steve’ and ‘Bucky,’ With Little to No Additional Editing and it Actually Almost Works...?”

Title: “Video” (2.4k Words)

Fandom: MCR MCU

Pairing: Frank/Gerard + voyeur!Bob Steve/Bucky + voyeur!Tony

Rating: NC-17 E (Explicit) - because we go by Ao3 ratings nowadays

Disclaimer: I don't claim to own the members of My Chemical Romance. This never happened. Thank you, Ao3, for existing so that I no longer need to make these statements.

Tags: Top Bucky, Bottom Steve, voyeurism, sex tapes, anal sex, oral sex (blowjobs and rimming), throat fucking, some possible polyamory vibes at the end (that honestly did not translate well from the original bandom text, but I’m keeping it for ~artistic purity~)

Summary: Frank's email has a video attachment. Bucky’s text has a video.

[A/N: As the series name suggests, I copied my own My Chemical Romance fanfiction from the mid-00′s and changed all the names. For the sake of purity for this little blogging performance piece, I changed little to no additional details, refused beta, and I made almost no adjustments for characterization except where the original details made absolutely no sense. Enjoy—I know 17-year old Lynne certainly did.]

***

When Tony plops down at the desk in his workshop after a long day and opens the text from Barnes, he doesn’t exactly know what he’s expecting, but it’s definitely not this.

It’s a video message. Barnes has sent videos before. Usually they contain footage of his cat—Tony thinks its name is ‘Albert’ or something equally as atrocious—or maybe hidden footage of Banner picking his nose when he thinks no one’s looking.

This is not one of those videos.

Initially, it’s nothing hugely alarming. Unusual, yes, but at first he’s just watching Steve sitting on the edge of what Tony recognizes as one of the beds in the tower—probably Barnes’ bed, if the literal rack of combat knives in the background is anything to go on—and Steve’s looking at the camera with some combination of a beet-red face and an expression like he’s trying not to smile.

Tony hears Bucky’s voice for the first time, apparently from behind the camera (phone, tablet, whatever). It’s low, scratchy, and it does not match the expression on Steve’s flushed and jittery face one bit.

“Tell Tony why you’re here, baby—“

“—You know he’s going to delete this the second he gets it—”

“—Tell him.”

Steve’s huffs and rolls his eyes, but then he’s straightening his face and actually looking at the camera. It’s kind of deadly, actually.

“I’m here because Bucky wants you to see me get fucked.”

He holds Tony’s gaze through the lens, three seconds of bright blue.

The screen goes black.

There isn’t much time for Tony to relearn how to take a proper breath.

When the image returns, it’s not just Steve on the edge of the bed anymore. It’s Steve’s bare back, long and muscular and broad across the shoulders with that unfairly small waist, and then Barnes moves back with the camera and makes sure Tony can see Steve’s full glory on his knees with his hands on the headboard.

Barnes is breathing heavy; Tony can tell. Barnes is making sure to let Tony see every inch of Steve’s skin as he begins running his own hands along it, finally coming to his ass. It’s so small that it’s almost cute, but it’s firm and round like Tony always thought it looked through Steve’s ugly chinos. Barnes suddenly grabs the left cheek roughly, and a moan catches in Steve’s throat.

At this point, Tony’s brain can finally process that he’s watching a sex tape. His cock is way ahead of him, already fighting against the fabric of his sweatpants.

Barnes spends a moment caressing the smooth curves of his husband’s hips, and then rearranges himself and the camera so Tony is staring directly at Steve from behind. His legs are spread, cock hanging between them, full and ready and taut. He can see Steve’s head resting on his forearms, burying his face in his own skin.

Barnes slides a finger down the crack of Steve’s ass, applying pressure to the rose-colored pucker he finds. Tony knows now that Steve is familiar with Brazilian waxing.

“You wouldn’t believe how tight this is, Stark.”

His hand moves to cup Steve’s balls lightly, eliciting a whimper from Steve’s and a twitch from Tony’s own dick.

“He’s so fucking good, especially like this, all spread out so you can see him.”

Tony is helpless but to agree.

At first, he doesn’t comprehend the video switching again, but he sees a flicker and the lighting change that inevitably comes with homemade pornography before he notices the slick look of Barnes’ vibranium fingers as he goes to slide one into Steve’s ass.

Steve keens, moving his hips to take more in.

“Yeah, fuck. Just like that, baby.”

Fuck it, Tony thinks. He begins palming his cock through the restriction of his pants, feeling only vaguely guilty about it at this point.

The movement of Barnes’ finger in and out of Steve is easy and wet and completely obscene. He takes a second one without any struggle, a third with a little whimpering but even more encouragement.

Steve loosens under Barnes’ ministrations. The fingers inside him are crooked to tease but not to satisfy, and Tony is starting to think that he could really fucking get into this when the scene changes—again.

Barnes is holding his own cock in his free hand, which, hey, appears to be about as thick and beefy as his Hydra lab-rat body. Tony is both jealous and wildly turned on at this discovery.

Steve’s head suddenly appears in the frame, upside down for a reason Tony can’t quite determine until he realizes he’s hanging it off the edge of the bed. He looks up at Barnes’ camera, smiles a very secret upside down smile, like he and Tony are the only people that know about it.

“He likes this. Watch.”

Like I could look away, Tony thinks as he fucking finally lets himself touch his cock without any fabric to come between.

Steve wets his own lips and Barnes moves forward, tucking himself down into Steve’s mouth. Tony has never seen it done like this in professional porn, not quite as this angle, and shit.

His mouth is vivid red and stretched beautifully around Barnes as the man holding the camera begins thrusting slow, his cock disappearing and reappearing, going a little bit deeper each time. Steve’s eyes are closed, and the sounds he’s making are enough to make Tony wonder who the one getting their rocks off here.

“He’s always asking me to fuck him like this, too. Wants me in him however he can get me. He’s such a fucking slut, Stark.”

Tony is starting to really, really like way Barnes says his name.

Barnes pulls out completely, and then goes forward again, all the fucking way, enough that Steve almost chokes, but not quite. Barnes is busy telling him what a ‘Good fucking boy’ he is while his balls brush over Steve’s face and eyes, and then the man on the bed is running a hand down to his own blushing cock and—

Homemade porn is dizzy. Barnes is not holding the camera anymore.

Tony knows this because everything he sees is pale legs apart in the air and Barnes’ mismatched hands holding them there, his head between them and sucking lightly on the tip of Steve’s cock. He’s completely nude, looking up at the lens from across the pale expanse of Steve’s rippling torso and chest (pink, pink fucking little nipples that Tony really wants to pinch). He holds the camera’s gaze when he lets Steve fall from between his lips and moves his head down to where Tony can hardly see his face.

He doesn’t really need to see it to know where he’s burying it.

“He tastes amazing, Stark, fuck.”

Steve’s hips snap up off the bed, into Barnes’ face, and Barnes just grabs his hips tight and holds him there. Fantastic wet slurping sounds are coming out of his speakers as Tony wonders if Barnes’ tongue is fucking Steve’s ass or maybe just tracing his opening with it. The thought of either makes his fist pump faster.

The sounds that are coming out of Steve’s mouth, loud this close to the camera, just motivate Barnes to be more aggressive. He does something with his tongue that Tony can’t see but it makes Steve let out a pained moan like a dying man, and his leaking cock jumps where it’s resting on his belly.

“Fuck! God, Bucky! Just fuck—“

The screen goes black for the first time since the beginning of the video. If this is the end, Tony thinks, if it’s over and he’s not going to get to see what Steve practically fucking promised him, not minutes ago, if there’s no more on the tape and Tony’s going to have to finish himself off to thoughts of what it might have looked like—

Steve’s flushed face is looking at the lens, focusing somewhere past Tony, like he might be pushing some buttons on the phone or adjusting some settings. It must be on a surface, or a tripod, Tony decides, because the frame is too still for a human hand to be shooting it. After a moment, Steve stops and walks away, over to the bed where Barnes is waiting for him, sitting up with his legs casually spread out in front of him.

Steve straddles him, his knees on either side and his arms loosely thrown around Barnes’ shoulders. They kiss, for the first time the entire video, and if Tony’s being honest, it’s one of the most intense things he’s seen yet. Their mouths move like they’re trying to consume each other whole, like they’re trying to suck the souls out of each other’s throats. Steve shivers visibly and Tony thinks it might be a bit much for him.

Barnes brings his arms around Steve’s waist and pulls him in tight, so he’s splayed all across his lap and open, open for Barnes to reach down and run his fingers across his boy’s entrance lightly. Tony can see he’s already taken care of the condom when Steve starts rubbing the lube he poured into his hand onto Barnes’ cock, slow and firm in a way that makes Barnes moan and stop him, like if he goes anymore, he’ll shoot too soon.

Tony’s breath catches when finally, finally, he sees Barnes position himself for Steve to sink down onto. Steve’s head tilts back and his mouth falls, shameless and wanting as he lets Barnes into his body.

There’s a period of adjustment, where Steve looks like he’s just savoring the feel of his husband’s cock, full and thick inside him, before Barnes gets a rhythm going. He moves Steve up and down with his grip on his hips, thrusting up into him simultaneously. The light strain in his muscles is gorgeous, his arm glittering in the dim light.

Steve’s moans are all Tony can hear, loud and decadent in conjunction with the look on his face, all slack in ecstasy and eyes shut tight. He’s putting on a show, Tony can tell, but it’s too damn convincing for him to care.

Barnes slows for a second, but he keeps his hips pinned to Steve’s ass, rotating small circles inside him. He sets his chin on his lover’s shoulder and whispers into his ear hot, fucking criminal.

“Look at the camera, baby. Let Tony see your pretty face while I’m fucking you.”

And oh God, Steve kisses Barnes sweet and slow for a second before his head is turning, looking over his shoulder at the lens with most coy fucking look Tony has ever seen. He’s biting his lip and his mouth is still so fucking red and bright and everything about him, from the tight lines of his hips to the sandy blond hair dusting his thighs, takes Tony’s breath away.

Everything from then on is a blur. The video begins cutting more sporadically, and one moment Tony is looking at Steve’s body stretching around Barnes’ wide erection while Barnes holds the camera, and the next he’s watching Steve’s cock and balls bouncing against his abdomen while Barnes drives into him, hard and unforgiving.

Somewhere around, “Fuck Bucky, baby, you fuck me so good,” Tony starts to lose his grip on his own cock, hand sweaty and slippery from exertion. He’s getting close, and Barnes is swearing more often and when Steve said Tony was going to watch him get fucked, he meant get fucked.

The phone camera is settled on the mattress, moving with them, and Barnes is taking Steve from behind, chest and middle touching every inch of skin on Steve’s back. He reaches around to encircle the other man’s cock in his hand, and Steve groans obscenely.

“Stark wants to watch you come, Stevie. You want that? You want to show him how you shoot all over our nice new sheets?”

Steve’s fingers grasp the comforter tightly and Barnes’ hand slows to a steady, dragging pace. It’s the kind of pull that Tony knows is what makes slow and careful sex so intense. Steve is shaking.

“Get dirty for me, baby. Tony wants to see how dirty you can be,” and Steve comes, just like that, thick white ropes falling onto the crisp linens below. He’s swearing and begging and Barnes straightens, just staring and watching with a hand steadying the small of Steve’s back. He’s got an expression on his face like Tony isn’t the only one seeing Steve exactly like this for the first time.

And Tony’s finally letting go, the tight clench in his gut making it too hard to wait any longer. His vision swims, and for a minute he thinks he can’t see, but then he’s watching Steve look like a puddle of exhausted limbs on the bed while Barnes is fucking him within an inch of his existence, using Steve’s body and becoming this growly, animal thing.

Tony can tell when Barnes comes by the expression on Steve’s face, this self-satisfied smile that tugs on his swollen lips. Barnes collapses on top of him, kissing his back franticly and licking the sweat from it. He’s manic, grabbing Steve’s hair a little roughly and twisting his head to meet his lips, both of them a complete hot mess.

Never in his life has Tony seen anything more mercilessly beautiful.

The video cuts once more. Tony’s hand and pants are covered in his own come, and he’s finally starting to get his breathing under control. This time, the camera is on the night stand. He’s looking at the two figures lying twisted together on the bed in the nearly dark room, and he can make out the slow rise and fall of their chests and the sound of soft, moist kisses. This part, he feels like maybe he should look away. Like maybe it’s not meant for him to see.

Steve’s voice is the one that speaks first.

“Are you really going to send it to Tony?”

“I thought you wanted to?”

“I do! I do, I just—I want to know that you’re okay with him seeing me—us. Together like that.”

“He’s Stark, Stevie. Tony.”

“I know. “

There’s a long moment then, and it’s just silence. It’s just two men holding each other and talking without tongues, and it makes Tony feel like he’s never known fear or indifference in his life.

“Sometimes I like to share you with the people we love, Steve—“

—and Tony is closing out the video message before he has the chance to think twice.

***

(i told you the ending did not translate well from the original)

See [Part 2] of this terrible, terrible art project

my actual steve/bucky work: [x]

#today i learned that i have not had an original thought since 2005 #and also m/m fanfiction tropes have not changed one single bit in the past two decades #steve/bucky #stucky

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yourcoffindoor · 4 years

Text

Bulletproof Heart Pt.2

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Prompt: Request from Anon- “ could you write one where the reader is a rock singer and they and mcr are on warped tour together, and they both lowkey like each other but think they’re both out of each other’s league, and find out that they’re both secretly into nerdy stuff + maybe getting together?

TW: Mentions of an abusive relationship.

AN: The plot thickens. Sorry for the delay in uploading <3

Enjoyyyy <3

That night after everyone had stumbled back to the bus in a tipsy stupor, you couldn't shake the thought of your encounter with Gerard from your brain. And what's more, you hated yourself for it. For awhile you tossed and turned, hoping the unwelcome feelings you had would fade to nothing so that you could fall asleep at last.

But your curiosity got the better of you, and there was only would person who could give you the answers you were looking for.

"Hey Gavin, are you still conscious?" you whispered from your bunk. You heard the rustle of sheets moving in response.

"Hmmm?" a low and sleepy sound of acknowledgement answered.

"I'm just wondering...what do you know about Gerard Way?"

As soon as the words left your lips, Gavin's curtains swung open with superhuman force.

"Y/N are you in love with Gerard Way?!" Gavin's voice was no longer tired, having morphed into a sharp and excited whisper. In addition to being the band's social butterfly, he always knew the gossip about everyone within a 20 mile radius.

"Christ, really Gavin? We only spoke for like fifteen minutes."

"So it was like a love at first sight situation?"

"You are so annoying, I swear to god."

"Do you want info or not?" he threatened.

You sighed. "Fine, yes I do."

Gavin cleared his throat as if preparing for a presentation. "OK, so everyone has something good to say about him, seems like a really genuine guy. I've heard he was in a long term relationship for ages, but its been broken off for awhile now. "

"Hmm," you murmured, trying to sound indifferent, "yeah he seems like a sweet guy."

"Yeah and every girl with a pulse seems to be after him. You got some competition out there." he teased. "But seriously, if you're interested you should go for it. You deserve to be happy, Y/N. It's been three years since...you know who."

Gavin didn't say his name, but he had said enough to bring on a wave of sad memories. "Thanks. I'm uh, feeling pretty tired, so... I'm just gonna get some sleep."

"G'night." Gavin said softly, as if aware he had brought out long buried and very unwelcome feelings.

You rolled over in your bunk, pulling your blankets up over your head, unwilling to dwell on the memories that had been drudged up by only a few words. Three years ago. That's when you finally had the strength to break it off with Alex.

You were a different person when you met him. It was your first relationship, and you were naive and forgiving, unable to see the dozens of red flags that should have made you run away from it all.

You had answered an ad that he had posted asking for potential band members for a punk band he was forming. It had been your dream to pursue music, and you responded right away, hoping you'd hit it off. You weren't expecting Alex to be so damn attractive, and when your audition was successful, it was only a matter of time before a relationship began to develop between you.

He was older than you, more experienced, and eager to take you under his wing where he could have the most control. You mistook his over-protectiveness as a sign of love, and he slowly cut you off from people outside of the band, leaving you isolated and dependent on him.

Eventually he would get angry if he saw you speak to any other man. He took your phone regularly so that he could look through it, questioning you about anything he didn't like. The fights you had were loud and ugly, your voices rising and crashing like cantankerous bursts of thunder. Eventually, they became violent.

You were stuck in a cycle of affection and fear, held there as if caught in a tide that would never bring you back to shores of sanity. But you did eventually find the strength to get out when your friend reached out to you, offering you a place to stay. You packed your bags that night and didn't look back.

Your band was not just a career for you, it was a symbol of healing, proof that you were able to overcome it all and strike out on your own. You rolled over in your bunk, and pushed the unwanted memories aside, reminding yourself of the promise you had made to be the best damn band on Warped tour. Nothing was going to change that now.

x x x

Your first performance went by in a haze of adrenaline and sweat. The crowd was young and eager to see what you had to offer, and you were all to happy to give them something they'd remember for a long long time.

There were several people in the crowd who were fans already, proudly wearing your band's shirts and mouthing along to all of the lyrics. Others were slowly converted, headbanging enthusiastically by the end of your set. When the band's final song was met with deafening hoots and cheers, you'd felt like you'd accomplished your mission.

"We fucking killed it!" Gavin declared as he slumped in the nearest chair, exhausted.

"The crowd was good, huh?" you beamed as you wiped the sweat from your face, still breathless from your onstage antics. "Let's hope they're all like this."

"Can't get any worse than our first show ever, remember?" Liz laughed as she recalled the groups early days. "Never had so much beer pelted at me in my life."

People milled about as you and your band mates caught your breath. A few musicians from other bands popped in to say hi and let you know that they enjoyed your performance.

"Hey you actually made it!" Gavin jumped up from his chair as he noticed a new face entering the backstage area. "Guys did you meet Frank last night? From My Chemical Romance?" A man with wide hazel eyes gave a quick wave from the the entryway.

"This guy was goin on and on about how you guys were the best new band on warped tour. Had to see if he was just full of shit."

"He always starts bragging when he's drunk." you rolled your eyes.

"Well, I'm glad he did. You guys put on a pretty kick-ass show. Plus Gerard really wanted to check it out."

Your heartbeat, which had only just settled from jumping around on stage, began to speed up again.

"Gerard?"you asked softly, caught off guard by the mention of his name. You didn't see the familiar black haired boy near frank. You only saw Gavin attempting to give you a discreet wink, which you returned with a harsh glare.

"Yeah actually we were all there. Mikey and Ray had to run to another show. Don't know where Gee disappeared to though," Frank craned his head, looking around at the hustle and bustle that was happening permanently everywhere on Warped tour. "Ah, there he is. Gerard!"

You saw Gerard, surrounded by a small circle of fans, each holding something they wanted him to sign. You felt a strange pang when you noticed they were all pretty girls, and Gavin's words from last night came back to haunt you. You got some competition out there. You struggled to identify just what emotion was suddenly eating away at you--were you really jealous? Or was it the realization that even if you decided to make a move, it was probably hopeless?

Gerard nodded at Frank. "Be there in a sec!" he shouted, continuing to sign autographs until he had gotten through everyone.

Frank spoke with your band mates, but you were too distracted by the knowledge that Gerard had watched you perform to be sociable. You were anxious as to what his opinion would be, but tried to push it out of your thoughts.

You watched nervously as Gerard spoke to Frank and Gavin, noticing that he would glance over at you every so often. When your eyes finally met he gave you a nod and a warm smile. You gave yourself an internal pep talk to try and stay calm. You can just be friends, you don't need to do anything except be friendly. For the love of god, act normal.

Eventually he made his way over to you,offering another soft and lopsided smile,but his time it almost seemed as if he was shy. "Great show. From one lead singer to another, your band has a fucking killer sound."

You thanked him, grinning like an idiot while cautionary alarm bells went off in your head.

"I might be a bit biased though, because of the shirt your wearing."

You looked down, having forgotten what you threw on that morning. It was one of your favorite shirts, a short sleeved tee with the X-Men symbol emblazoned on the front. You'd had it for years, as evidenced by the smattering of small holes peeking through the bottom edge. Oh no, you thought, he likes comics too?

"You're a fan?" you asked coolly, a stark contrast to the giddy panic that was building up inside you.

"Yes! I actually wanted to make comics before My Chem was a thing." He spoke animatedly, his round hazel eyes widening even further. "But life had other plans. Not that I'm complaining."

That familiar heat rose in your cheeks. This conversation was dangerous, and you were trying desperately to fight the feeling that this man was something close to perfect.

The world around the two of you became an insignificant blur as you both discussed comics at length, and you hung on every word, taking turns revealing how you first discovered them and sharing your favorites. He even recommended a few titles that you had never heard of. His demeanor was passionate and lively, entirely different from the sullen boy you met the night before.

"I uh, I'm actually working on a comic at the moment," he began, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, suddenly bashful, "If you're interested you should stop by the bus sometime--"

Gerard's eyes focused on something just behind you, and you felt a sudden tap on your shoulder. You turned and felt your stomach drop to a sickening low. There, standing next to the drunk who was hitting on you last night, was your ex-boyfriend Alex.

"What are the odds!" he smiled at you, blank looking smug beside him. You found yourself at a loss for words.

"What...what are you doing here?"

He scoffed. "Ouch Y/N, is that anyway to say hello? I'm here for the same reason you are." He turned his attention to Gerard. "I'm Alex. Y/N and I used to have a band together back in the day. Well, a bit more than that actually." He smirked at you, instantly transforming any butterflies you had felt while talking to Gerard into pure revulsion.

This was your worst case scenario, and it was one you had never even considered to be possible. Seeing his face again made you freeze up, and you were at a loss for words. You looked up at Gerard through your eyelashes, wondering if the dark and overwhelming swirl of emotion inside you was showing on your face. His brows were furrowed ever so slightly as if he could sense that something wasn't quite right.

"Nice to meet you," he replied curtly before turning his attention back to you. I'll uh, let you catch up. I'll just be over there with Frank...if you need anything."

You merely nodded, too caught up in your feelings to respond properly. "I'll catch you later then."

Alex saw this opportunity as a chance to reach for an embrace, but you stepped back and out of reach.

"Just what the hell are you doing?"

"What are you implying? I'm just dropping in to say hello before Midnite Heist performs later. I'm their new drummer after all. I can't even do that?"

"No," you said, struggling to maintain a low voice, "You can't. I told you I never wanted to see you again. We may be on the same tour, but that doesn't mean you can approach me. Don't try it again."

He laughed, clearly embarrassed to be spoken too like that in front of his band mate. "If you're trying to get with that Way guy, don't bother. You're punching way above your weight with that one."

You took a moment to steel yourself, and decided to walk away rather than let thing turn into a scene. Before you turned to leave, you offered one final warning.

"I haven't forgotten what you did to me. Speak to me again and you'll regret it."

You walked off, hearing mocking 'Ooooh's from Alex and Brent as you left. You saw heads turning in your direction as you stormed away towards the bus, including Gerard's, but you couldn't be bothered by that now- not when you were struggling to keep it together.

Fuck Fuck Fuck your internal monologue looped on a bitter repeat. This was going to be the longest tour of your life.

#gerard way fanfic #gerard way x reader #gerard way imagine #mcr fanfiction

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wordofrecall · 4 years

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character playlists: ori

so. let’s do this. my playlists are long and scattered, but they make me happy, so i might as well share them and the thoughts behind song choices. so. here’s some songs for runaway knights & wannabe witches, and what have you.

something holy - childhood & riches & wonders

pearl diver - mitski - oh hunter, if you didn’t want the beautiful so badly, perhaps you would’ve found it in your spirit singing softly - look. it's on the nose, considering that her title is "the pearl hunter," but also, like, that rules. this is a song for wren, i think; ori in the present reflecting on her mother and the similarities between them.

icicles - the scary jokes - i can only be forgiven if i’m giving myself up to you on a silver serving tray / must i bare myself to the stabbing of your knife & gnashing teeth while our lovely company appears so entertained? - aaand a song for childhood. 99% of ori's socialization came from her parents having important guests over, so. uh. yeah. show off your reclusive child prodigy like a pageant whenever you have the opportunity. she probably won't grow to loathe you.

life: the cruel interlude (on god) - kilo kish - why do i dare believe in me when i bleed? - questioning was. always a big thing for ori. i don't think she ever believed that the mirzha was god, and i known that she never truster her father's patron, but. in her studies, in her passions, there's always this tiny sense of desperation for something to have faith in something. not herself.

bluejays & cardinals - the mountain goats - the stars come out of hiding for you, & i would too - there is. a lot, in ori's relationship with her brother. she was the favorite child, yeah, the one destined for great things in spite of her... troubles. but he never had those troubles! she didn't, doesn't understand how he went through life so unafraid. there's envy there. i also think that the line i quoted is terribly true, like, canonically. because. she sure did do that stupid shit.

be calm - fun. - take it from me, i’ve been there a thousand times--you hate your pulse because it thinks you’re still alive! - sometimes you have intense social phobia. and that's okay!

country death song - violent femmes - kiss your mother goodnight & remember that God saves, kiss your mother goodnight & remember that God saves - i think andrei is a much less pitiable or even sympathetic man than the narrator of this song, but. like. it's a country song about a father killing his daughter while preaching godliness. i had to.

i’m all bloody inside - liam lynch - inside me, well, it’s dark & gross as hell, i’m not a pretty sight - the family business!

the hazards of love 3 (revenge!) - the decemberists - but father, don’t you fear, your children are all here - fantasies. part of the fantasy is imagining a world where she doesn't feel terrible about the thought.

shankill butchers - sarah jarosz - they used to be just like me & you, they used to be sweet little boys - "blood hunters are ghost stories." "and also, they're fucking terrible. violent, cruel, zealous. the worst."

sparrow - st. vincent - & no eyes are on the sparrow, eyes are on the sparrow, how could that be the case? the lark keeps whistling his number, silly little number, as if he isn't prey - pity for the boy. sort of retrospective, but it's a thought that's been there since she was a child.

something burning - rituals & fire & running

starchild - ghost quartet - but i will transcend & vomit this loser out of me; i will become the next big thing, i will light myself on fire - maybe she is some kind of angel? bursting with radiance and terrifying to look upon.

arsonist’s lullabye - hozier - don’t you ever tame your demons, always keep them on a leash / when i was sixteen, my senses fooled me - oooor maybe she is a sixteen year-old who is having a panic attack and setting everything in sight on fire by accident.

blood - my chemical romance - i’m the kind of human wreckage that you love! - so she's broken.

girl anachronism - the dresden dolls - it’s not the way i’m meant to be, it’s just the way the operation made me - so she's failed and she's broken and she's sick, and there's no time to fucking think.

when the chips are down - anais mitchell - cast your eyes to heaven, you’ll get a knife in the back. - so she does what her mother did before her, and she runs from that which she has always known.

body terror song - ajj - i’m so sorry that you have to have a body / one that will hurt you, & be the subject of so much of your fear - feelings on being built Wrong; feelings on your mind's undue control upon your body.

in corolla - the mountain goats - & no one was gonna come & get me, there wasn't anybody gonna know, even though i leave a trail of burnt things in my wake every single place i go - very good as an ori song in general but this is her justification to herself in the water. under the docks, she says this to herself.

the harrowed & the haunted - the decemberists - will i be so brave? - just to get that oceanic vibe up.

luna - the mountain goats - rise through the flames & end again in flames at last - an inexplicable feeling.

unwhere - reeder - a song for leaving what you've always known.

something lonely - years & woods & dreaming

runs in the family - amanda palmer - run from their pity, from responsibility, run from the country & run from the city, i can run from the law, i can run from myself, i can run for my life, i can run into debt, i can run from it all, i can run 'till I'm gone - she is broken and all she can think to do is get as far away as possible

panic attack - liza anne - i hate that i can be seen like this

black eyes - david wirsig - my hammering heart hears the voices of spirits that tempt us, the scorn that they’ve spoken

for the departed - shayfer james - they will bury me alive, but i’m not inclined to care; i am too far gone now

hurt - johnny cash - everyone i know goes away in the end; you can have it all, my empire of dirt

my body’s made of crushed little stars - mitski - i work better under a deadline! i work better under a deadline!

blood in the cut - k. flay - guess i’m contagious; it’d be safest if you ran--fuck, that’s what they all just end up doing in the end

little pistol - mother mother - i think i might be scared of the world & the way it makes you feel afraid & how it gets in the way

villains pt. 1 - emma blackery - built to create, designed to destroy

the beer - kimya dawson - & the christians gave me comic books as if i would be scared of burning in hell while i was already there [...] i tried to scream fuck you but blood was pouring out my mouth

something safe - family & finding it & fighting together

haunted house - sir babygirl - i’m running just to hide & i’m hiding just to breathe & around every corner is the same night on repeat

your heart is a muscle the size of your fist - ramshackle glory - i love you & you make me glad to be alive; i promise that i’m gonna pay you back / you always know how funny everything is, even when i’m so serious that it’s gonna be the death of me

medicines - the taxpayers - o, but our rotting corpses lying there soon began to leak & grow these lesions that all smelled just like a rose / & all the blood & guts inside us germinated into timeless pages stained with lines of lovely prose

autoclave - the mountain goats - i am this great unstable mass of blood & foam

alligator skin boots - mccafferty - i’m cool to the touch, leap to my death, i’ll die for you all, i’ll die for my friends, it goes like this

100 years - florence + the machine - lord, don’t let me break this, let me hold it lightly, give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly

tomorrow will be kinder - the secret sisters - but i feel warmth on my skin, the stars have all aligned

armour - rae spoon - you know i placed was to build a life for you

amy aka spent gladiator 1 - the mountain goats - play with matches if you think you need to play with matches; seek out the hidden places where the fire burns hot & bright / find where the heat’s unbearable & stay there if you have to--don’t hurt anybody on your way up to the light, and stay alive

curses - the crane wives - won’t you stay with me, my darling, when my walls start burning down?

something daring - islands & visions & loss

jane’s dream - janelle monáe

beekeeper - keaton henson - hear me, o woman that has gone astray, gone astray

fire - kimya dawson - i’m reading books about how they’re corrupt [...] as long as i’m burning, i’ll keep on yearning to save the world, not sure how, but i’m learning

cosmic hero - car seat headrest - i love you, but i can’t stand the touch, & of course i’m alright with death

turn the lights off - tally hall - everbody likes to get taken for turns to see how bright the fire inside of us burns [...] should be stronger, books abandoned

eat you alive - the oh hellos - child, i’m afraid for your soul; these things that you’re after, they can’t be controlled

cry for judas - the mountain goats - hallucinate a shady grove where judas went to die

o death - monica martin - no wealth, no land, no silver, no gold, nothing satisfies me but your soul

blood of angels - brown bird - and i would wage my soul to bet that there ain’t no one throwing lightning anyhow

the universe is going to catch you - the antlers - the arms of the universe kept you from falling [...] those arms did not come back

a burning hill - mitski - i am the fire & i am the forest & i am the witness watching it / i stand in the valley watching it

something terrifying - conversations & selfhood & divination

the lamb - dessa - but blood is blood, & what’s done is done; blood is blood, & its burden is a beast

going invisible 2 - the mountain goats - i’m gonna burn it all down today & sweep all the ashes away

the lion’s roar - first aid kit - she plays a tune for those who wish to overlook the fact that they’ve been blindly deceived by those who preach & pray & teach, but she falls short & the night explodes in laughter

the villain i appear to be - connor spiotto - even if you can’t see the good inside me, i don’t have the time to tell you why i do the things that i do, just please hold on & soon you’ll seem

up the wolves - the mountain goats - there’s bound to be a ghost at the back of closet, no matter where you live; there’ll be a few things, maybe several things that you’re gonna find really difficult to forgive

thursday girl - mitski - glory, glory, glory to the night that shows me what i am

at the bottom of everything - bright eyes - we must take all of the medicines to expensive now to sel; set fire to the preacher who is promising us hell

everybody does - julien baker - i know i’m a pile of filthy wreckage you will wish you’d never touched, but you’re gonna run when you find out who i am

tongues & teeth - the crane wives - i know that you mean so well, but i am not a vessel for your good intent

a pearl - mitski - you’re growing tired of me and all the things i don’t talk about / sorry, i don’t want your touch--it’s not that i don’t want you

#original #this is. so long. and i will probably add more. but. Daughter.#ori #playlists

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vyther16 · 4 years

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count to seventeen and close your eyes

Whumptober 2020 Theme 1: let’s hang out sometime; prompt 2: shackled (loosely)

More specific CW: a small child stabs a guy with the help of his father, pov character gets stabbed a lot, graphic depictions of violence, torture, body horror, major character death, White No-Face’s general creepiness, it’s That Scene from book four except Worse, minor dissociation

Glossary for ppl like my mom who have no idea what any of this is -Xie Lian/dianxia/gege -- the guy getting stabbed a bunch; he’s a disgraced god and the former Crown Prince of XianLe, a fallen kingdom -San Lang/Hua Cheng-- he is a ghost, and is the ghost flame; he’s in love with Xie Lian -White No-Face-- he is also a ghost, and he wears a white half smiling-half crying mask; he’s pretty creepy even when not in strange nightmare territory. -Human face disease-- a disease reminiscent of the chicken pox, but instead of red bumps, it is human faces, and it is deadly if not cured, but there is only one cure *cue croods dun dun dun sound effect* -A’die-- dad, informal -(xiao-)baobei-- (little) treasure; a nickname for small children -Dianxia-- your highness

The first half of this is a nightmare, which becomes progressively more obvious as it goes on, so strange body horror stuff is not editing errors. It is not a rewrite of the temple scene in book four; it is a nightmare about that scene. (though, to be fair, i only went through and edited for grammar, not narrative consistency or flow.)

—start—

Xie Lian sits in the decrepit shrine, avoiding looking at the toppled statue, even though it looks nothing like him.

Slowly, more people arrive. The scene feels familiar, the way dreams are familiar.

He blinks, and the room is full of people, farmers and families and merchants and performers. A little boy waves at him from the doorway. Xie Lian waves back, but his hand is caught by a freezing grip.

“Hello, dianxia,” White No-Face says from behind him. Xie Lian freezes.

There’s a crash outside the temple, followed by moaning. A ghost flame appears above White No-Face’s head. White No-Face catches it easily as he guides Xie Lian to the altar in front of the toppled statue. Xie Lian wants to struggle, but he can’t.

White No-Face speaks to the crowd as he ties Xie Lian to the altar. Xie Lian doesn’t come to his senses until it’s too late for him to struggle free. His breaths are coming too fast, short and panicky. White No-Face strokes a hand across his cheek in a gesture that is meant to be comforting, but it only serves to heighten Xie Lian’s fear.

White No-Face continues speaking to the crowd, telling them all about the Human Face Disease. “The cure is murder,” White No-Face says. Xie Lian’s panic grows again.

“Who are we supposed to kill!” a merchant shouts.

White No-Face tilts his head. Xie Lian can only see the smiling part of his mask from this angle. “After seeing dianxia’ s face, I should think it would be obvious who to kill.” Xie Lian gets the sense that White No-Face is smiling under his mask.

The little ghost fire caught in White No-Face’s hands flickers angrily, flashing between red and silver. Xie Lian realizes it wants to kill anyone who even considers what White No-Face is implying.

“Oh right!” a farmer cries. “He’s a god! He’ll come back!”

The crowd shoves forward eagerly. A family of three pushes their way to the front. “Our xiao-baobei has a face already! We should go first.”

The little boy from earlier takes up the sword White No-Face offers him. “ Dianxia will be okay, right a’die ?” he asks, struggling with the weight of the black blade.

“Of course, baobei ,” the father says, placing his hands over his son’s. Together, they stab into Xie Lian’s chest, through his heart.

It hurts.

More people take up the sword, stabbing through his heart and neck equally. White No-Face continues stroking his face through the whole thing, in a mockery of comfort.

“I tell you the truth,” a merchant says, stepping forward to take the sword. “There were rumors that he knew the cure long before XianLe fell. All those deaths from the Human Face Disease would be considered his fault.”

The crowd considers this. “Of course it would have to be his fault,” a performer calls.

The rest of the crowd agrees.

I didn’t want to turn my entire people into murderers, Xie Lian tries to say. The sword slices into his throat again.

It hurts.

White No-Face pauses in his caressing of Xie Lian’s face to say, “oh, but dianxia . They don’t really blame you.” White No-Face’s head turns, so that Xie Lian can only see the smiling half of the ghost’s mask. “You’re just convenient.”

Xie Lian can’t reply, his throat too mangled to speak. He’s not sure how he’s even able to hear right now; his ears are drenched in his blood. He can’t feel his legs, or his arms, or anything beyond pain.

It hurts.

The sword slides into his chest again.

It hurts.

Xie Lian’s eyes lock onto the little ghost fire trapped in White No-Face’s hands. It never told Xie Lian its name, but he knows it anyway.

Why does he know its name?

The flame flickers silver.

The sword slides in and out of his stomach. Another death.

It hurts.

San Lang, he tries to say. San Lang. San Lang, save me.

All that comes out is a garbled sound, muffled by the blood clotted in his mouth. He can’t breathe.

It hurts.

White No-Face laughs. “ Dianxia , your San Lang can’t save you.”

Xie Lian watches in horror as White No-Face reaches down with one hand. When did he get another hand? San Lang is still cupped in two of them. White No-Face’s mask has gotten bigger.

White No-Face trails a finger along Xie Lian’s face, dragging the tip through the blood and tears drying there. “So messy,” he chides. “Now, where’s your necklace.”

If Xie Lian’s heart hadn’t been stabbed through already, it would have stopped at those words.

No! He tries to shout. San Lang’s flame flickers silver again.

It hurts.

“Ah, here we are.” White No-Face’s mask is even bigger now. Another hand closes around the ring looped around Xie Lian’s neck. “I’ll take that.”

White No-Face gives the chain a single sharp tug, and it snaps. Xie Lian struggles to move, to do something to take it back, to take it out of White No-Face’s hands.

It hurts.

White No-Face tuts. “Now now, dianxia . You can’t go moving just yet. You’re injured.” He holds up the broken chain, fist closed around the ring. “Now, let’s see. This is a very pretty trinket. It would be such a shame if it were to… fall.” The chain slips through White No-Face’s fingers. Xie Lian watches it fall with growing horror, trying to move to catch it.

He can’t, tied too tightly. The sword slides in again.

It hurts.

There’s a distant crash.

It hurts.

The ghost flame in White No-Face’s hands flickers silver one last time, then explodes into silver butterflies.

Xie Lian tries to scream.

“Now it’s just us, Dianxia,” White No-Face says sweetly, palm still cradling Xie Lian’s face like a parent would to a child. “We’ll have so much fun together.” The hands that were holding San Lang have disappeared.

Xie Lian watches the last butterfly flicker out of existence and sobs.

The sword slides in again.

It hurts.

Xie Lian jerks awake in the quiet of Puqi Shrine, muffling a scream on his fist. His other hand scrabbles at his chest, searching for wounds that aren’t there, until it finds San Lang’s ashes looped around his neck. He closes his hand around the ring, hunching in on himself, and shudders, holding back sobs.

He wants San Lang here, but San Lang is in Ghost City right now, dealing with the new Supreme that’s risen up. Xie Lian can handle nightmares without bothering San Lang; he’s been doing it for over eight centuries now.

His fingers close around the dice anyway, and before he’s consciously aware of it, he’s already walked through the doors into Hua Cheng’s receiving hall.

Xie Lian is wearing a simple white outer robe; it had been cold recently, so he’d taken to sleeping with both an inner and an outer layer. He’s holding his bamboo hat in his hand, and he looks conspicuously out-of-place among the more grotesque fashions of the ghosts and ghouls watching Hua Cheng converse with the new supreme.

Hua Cheng’s eyes snap away from the supreme when Xie Lian appears, and Xie Lian regrets coming, because this was silly, he can deal with nightmares on his own, and San Lang is clearly busy, but then San Lang is right next to him and the citizens of Ghost City are grumbling but leaving, and one of San Lang’s servants is leading the Supreme to a guest room and Xie Lian is wrapped into a hug.

“Dianxia, gege, what’s wrong?” San Lang murmurs into his hair, and all Xie Lian can do in response is clutch San Lang closer, pressing his face into San Lang’s maple-red tunic, and let out the sobs he’s been holding in since he woke up.

San Lang holds him tightly, humming a song into Xie Lian’s hair. Xie Lian lets San Lang’s song wash over him, washing away the taint his nightmare left on him.

Xie Lian comes to himself in Hua Cheng’s private chambers, curled up on San Lang’s lap while San Lang cards his fingers through Xie Lian’s hair. San Lang is humming quietly.

Xie Lian shifts to sit up, and San Lang’s arms tighten momentarily before releasing him. “Is gege alright now?” San Lang asks, gentle.

Xie Lian hums in acquiesce, pressing a kiss to San Lang’s cheek, before gingerly moving off of San Lang’s lap to sit next to him. “I’m sorry for disturbing San Lang’s meeting,” he murmurs. “I know it was important.”

Hua Cheng huffs. “Not nearly as important as dianxia.”

Xie Lian buries his face back into San Lang’s shoulder to hide the redness of his cheeks. “San Lang is too good to me, truly,” he protests.

“Nonsense. Gege deserves everything good, and more,” San Lang declares. “Nothing this San Lang does could be too good for gege.”

— fin —

Author Notes

Title is from the My Chemical Romance song S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W, which is *technically* a post-apocalyptic lullaby set last year. *Looks outside.* Well, they weren't too far off. if you look at the lyrics closely, it fits v well with hualian and also it's one of my fav my chem songs and i am but a humble emo. Also, i just really like that line in the song bc it's so odd and strangely comforting.

I toyed with using the phrase "It hurts" bc I used said phrase eleven (11) times in the nightmare portion of this fic. I counted. (With the find and replace function on google docs bc i'm lazy) Make of that what you will.

the Ao3 link is on the reblog to my main

Personal-ish notes that are skippable past here (TL:DR is VOTE, goddammit, for my USA peeps.)

Anyway, this note is brought to you by me ignoring my parents "discussing" black lives matter. I swear to god, I can't wait until I can move out because guess whose parents are probably going to be voting for trump again this year. I am Not Pleased. In fact, I'm pissed, bc I am a queer white girl in a small white town, and right now, I'm not as disproportionately affected by trump as some people, but there are people who will not survive another trump term. there are people who didn't survive this trump term. anyway, repeating the tldr bc its important. tldr is VOTE, goddammit, and I swear, if you support trump in any way, you might as well just leave.

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cryptiboy · 4 years

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what emo bands or songs would you recommend?

hello anon thank you so much,, before we begin this roller coaster I wanna add that my boyfriend @autitransylveon also has very good emo music taste that differs from mine, so I definitely reccomend also going and asking him,,

Literally the way I ordered these is not important, you are probably better off listening to them in order of how cool the titles sound to you, some of these don’t fit under “emo” music I feel like but they are emotional and have emo vibes to me so I put them in anyway,, also a lot of these have topics and lyrics that are very seriously upsetting because it is emo music so watch out for that!!! I hope this helped introduce you to some new songs and bands and stuff!!!

Faces - Scary Kids Scaring Kids

Icicles - The Scary Jokes

Feelin’ So Matryoshka - The Scary Jokes

Felt Like I Had Died - Left At London

I Don’t Trust U Anymore - Left At London

Personal Space Invader - AJJ

Heartilation - AJJ

Kokopelli Face Tattoo - AJJ

Toxicity - System Of A Down

Chop Suey - System Of A Down

Animal I Have Become - Three Days Grace

Pain - Three Days Grace

Get Out Alive - Three Days Grace

Boulevard Of Broken Dreams - Green Day

Basket Case - Green Day

My Lovenote Has Gone Flat - leathermouth

Attention Reader - Pencey Prep

Brother - Gerard Way

Empty - Kevin Abstract

Rock Baby - Foxx Bodies

Annie - Foxx Bodies

Thrash Unreal - Against Me!

Black Me Out - Against Me!

In Too Deep - Sum 41

I Wanna Get Better - Bleachers

Yer Killin’ Me - Remo Drive

February - Beach Bunny

Torniquet - Evanescence

Bring Me To Life (Synthesis) - Evanescence

The Middle - Jimmy Eat World

Touch Up - Mother Mother

Oh Ana - Mother Mother

Ghosting - Mother Mother

Body - Mother Mother

Oleander - Mother Mother

Little Pistol - Mother Mother

Infinitesimal - Mother Mother

Dark Days - PUP

Reservoir - PUP

Sleep In The Heat - PUP

Bare Hands - PUP

Cigarette Daydreams - Cage The Elephant

Halo - Cage The Elephant

Cold Cold Cold - Cage The Elephant

Aberdeen - Cage The Elephant

Pressure - Paramore

That’s What You Get - Paramore

We Are Broken - Paramore

Careful - Paramore

Brick By Boring Brick - Paramore

Turn It Off - Paramore

All I Wanted - Paramore

Monster - Paramore

Decode - Paramore

Papercut - Linkin Park

Numb - Linkin Park

Breaking The Habit - Linkin Park

Faint - Linkin Park

Thnks Fr The Mmrs - Fall Out Boy

20 Dollar Nosebleed - Fall Out Boy

Time To Dance - Panic! At The Disco

Camisado - Panic! At The Disco

Northern Downpour - Panic! At The Disco

The Ballad Of Mona Lisa - Panic! At The Disco

London Beckoned Songs About Money Written By Machines - Panic! At The Disco

New Perspective - Panic! At The Disco

I put My Chemical Romance songs seperately, because it’s Different they’re Special to me I tried to keep this list to a minimum,, anyway emo ass MCR songs:

Vampires Will Never Hurt You

Headfirst For Halos

Demolition Lovers

I’m Not Okay (I Promise)

Thank You For The Venom

Cemetery Drive

Sleep

I Don’t Love You

This Is How I Dissapear

Famous Last Words

The Kids From Yesterday

Fake Your Death

All The Angels

Kill All Your Friends

Desert Song

Bury Me In Black

The World Is Ugly

#anonymous #answered #music #long post #i spent like 2 hours on this it was a lot of fun actually i lovd it these are some of my favorite songs....

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chroniclackofselfpreservation · 3 years

Text

Creatures of the Night

Chapter 34 - the way out the in-door

Back to the Beginning < Previous chapter / Next chapter >

AO3

Masterlist

(TW: graphic depictions of violence/blood/gore, dismembering, mild panic/flashbacks, past homophobia, past verbal and physical abuse)

(The title of the chapter comes from "Checking Out" by Michael Sowder.)

Roman woke softly, blinking against the morning sunlight trickling through the trees. It looked as if the sun had just risen. He was uncharacteristically warm considering he’d slept on a forest floor, but coming more into his senses, he found himself curled around Virgil’s slight frame, the pale boy’s face buried in Roman’s chest, one of his hands loosely gripping his shirtfront—a strange, black mark running down his finger and looping around his wrist. Roman had an arm draped across Virgil’s waist, the other acting as a pillow beneath the familiar’s head.

He immediately flushed, glancing around. Dorian and Remus were nowhere to be seen, and it took Roman a minute to remember what exactly had happened last night. Dorian had pulled him out of a dead sleep to help Virgil through what must have been some sort of panic attack. It would explain why his eyes looked red and tacky, even now. Once Virgil had calmed down, Roman had quickly fallen back asleep himself. It had been the soundest sleep he’d had in a considerable while.

And he was comfortable. He liked laying here with Virgil, despite the tugging in the back of his mind reminding him of his father’s expression when he’d hinted at being gay. Robbie Bishop’s snide comments at underclassmen, looking to Roman for support in his awful jokes.

You’re not like them, Kingsley. You’re cool.

And Roman hadn’t said anything. He’d smiled, hoping his laughter didn’t sound too nervous. He’d only finally stood up to Robbie when Patton had defended a freshman and become the jock’s newest target—but that had been at the end of senior year. Roman was about to graduate, and Robbie was going away to college. He didn’t have as much to lose. It frightened him, the thought that he might not have stood by Patton’s side had it happened earlier. Before he’d gotten to know him. Before he and his father had officially fallen out.

Patton had come with him that day—when he came out to his father. Logan had already graduated and gone off to college for his bachelors, and Virgil had left for the summer as he always did. His dad had lost it, screaming that it was because he’d been hanging out with Logan—around his dads. Roman had been expecting it, and for that singular reason, had asked Patton not to come. When his attempts at keeping his friend from supporting him failed, he simply pleaded that Patton not say anything. He’d probably just make things worse. Just him being there was help enough.

Patton stayed true to his word until Roman’s father punched him. Roman had hoped the presence of another person would have deterred his father from resorting to violence, but it had been a shaky hope at best.

“Leave him alone!” Patton had shouted, rushing to Roman’s side and helping him back to his feet. His father stepped forward and Patton looked up at him, blood draining from his face in an instant. Roman’s father inhaled, as if he were about to begin shouting, and Patton flinched so hard, Roman had thought for a moment he’d been hit as well. That was what finally snapped the fraying thread between him and his father. He’d stood, eyes watering and nose bleeding, his entire face throbbing, pushing Patton behind him protectively.

“You know,” he’d said darkly, wiping the blood from his upper lip. “You’re just as bad as what killed mom.” It was harsh, Roman knew that, but that didn’t stop him from saying it.

His father’s eyes went wide with rage, his nostrils flaring. He lunged, and the only thing that kept him from an all-out brawl with his father was Patton latching onto his shoulder with a death grip and yanking him out of the apartment. They’d flown down the stairs, his father screaming at them from the open doorway.

“You’re dead to me! Do you hear?!” he’d bellowed.

Patton didn’t stop running until Roman stopped him two blocks from the apartment complex, out of breath. Patton offered to let him stay at his house—Dot certainly had the room to spare. He was keyed up the rest of the day, even as Dot cleaned Roman up and fed them dinner.

That night, from across the house, Roman heard Patton wake up screaming.

He’d stayed at their house for the few months leading up to the four of them buying their house on the edge of Wakeby. The last time he’d seen his father was accidental, while he’d been on shift at Mia’s facing the soup aisle. It had startled Roman so badly he’d knocked over an entire case stack of olive oil, spilling it across the floor. When he’d looked up again, his father was gone.

Roman pulled away from Virgil as gently as he could, not wanting to wake him. Virgil’s eyes shot open, not even the least bit groggy. He looked confused for a moment, and then his face flushed when he realized how close he was to Roman.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead” Roman snarked as he sat up, hoping to trample the conflicted feelings roiling in his chest.

Virgil brushed the dirt and pine needs from his clothes, his eyes flitting past Roman’s shoulder and his brow furrowing. “Amaryllis?”

Roman turned and nearly jumped out of his skin. A ghostly woman stood not five feet behind where they’d been sleeping. She stood—floated?—with her back to them, staring at the Capital.

She turned at Virgil’s words. “Oh, you’re awake.”

They both stood. Virgil couldn’t seem to look directly at the ghost for too long. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, I just… I don’t sleep. I can’t, I think,” she said. “I haven’t seen the Witchlands in so long. Have you noticed how much bigger the capital’s gotten?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, stripping off his jacket and securing it around his waist. “It’s completely swallowed Tikal and the other villages. We’ll be lucky if I can still find my way around the city.” He wore his usual black and white My Chemical Romance shirt, the one Roman had bought for him despite the familiar insisting he’d never heard of the band. At the time, Roman had simply thought he’d been shy about his interests. Now, it made more sense. Despite the outfit being common on Virgil, standing in the middle of an enchanted forest they both looked out of place. Virgil looked around. “Dorian’s still gone, then?”

Roman’s power tugged at the back of his mind. “He’s on the other side of that hill.”

Amaryllis turned and cocked an eyebrow. “Looks like you’re already familiar with location magic.”

“It’s more instinctual than anything,” Virgil commented, arms folded across his chest. “He doesn’t have much control over it.”

Roman swallowed, trying not to stare at the gaping wound in her chest. “That’s why we came. Virgil said you could teach me how to control my magic.”

“Yes, I was thinking over it last night, and I think we should get inside the capital before starting your training.”

Roman perked up. “We’re going inside the city?”

“I figured as much,” Virgil said, though he didn’t look too enthused at the prospect. “You’ll have access to the library—if they haven’t torn it down in the last century.”

Amaryllis smiled. “Exactly.”

Roman cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted into the trees, “Hey, Dorian! You can come back now!” Amaryllis let out a laugh of surprise and Virgil just rolled his eyes. It wasn’t long before the demon appeared through the trees, walking swiftly in his human form with Remus tromping along at his side.

They’re quite a pair, Roman thought to himself with a smile. Unlikely, yes, but a pair nonetheless. They seem to have taken to each other’s ruthlessness—or perhaps some other unknown reason Roman couldn’t fathom.

Dorian nodded deferentially to Amaryllis, another gesture that surprised Roman. He’d only briefly heard about what this witch had done for Virgil, but Dorian seemed to have enormous respect for the woman. “You’ve devised a plan, I suppose?” he asked, hands clasped behind his back patiently.

“We’re heading into the capital,” Virgil said. “It would probably be better if you had Remus sneak you in elsewhere. We’ll attract attention as a group.”

“Actually, I’ll be staying outside the city walls,” Dorian said, eyes flitting over Roman’s shoulder toward the sprawling kingdom behind him. “There’s little I’d be able to do in such confined spaces, and besides,” he said, a hint of a smile playing at his lips, “if anything were to happen to you all, I could storm the castle and lay waste to the kingdom.”

“We’re not here to lay waste to anything,” Roman interjected. “I just need to learn to control my powers. That’s all.”

Dorian’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally. “Are you so sure that the presence of the Witch Queen’s last remaining heir will go unnoticed? You’ll need powerful magic to defeat the dragon witch. More powerful than is likely legal. Do you plan to harness your devastating power within a closet or back alley?”

Amaryllis raised a placating hand. “We don’t have all the answers right now, Dorian, but have a little faith. We’ll figure it out.”

The demon looked anything but reassured, chewing on his cheek. “Regardless, I shall remain outside the city walls. Better to have some players still in the game when something goes awry.”

“If,” Amaryllis corrected with a wink. She looked at Remus. “You can get in and out of the city easy enough, can’t you?”

Remus puffed his chest. “Easy as plucking a pixie’s wings.”

Dorian’s brow knit and he cast a glance down at his companion. “That… is not easy.”

“Whatever, you get it,” the goblin shot back, waving a dismissive hand. Dorian rolled his eyes.

“Great. You can be our in-between. Keep Dorian updated on how the training’s coming and such,” she said, and Remus preened under her attention.

“Can do, my lady,” he said with a sharp-toothed grin.

With everything sorted out, Roman was eager to get going. Parting ways with a mixture of Amaryllis’s cheerful farewell and Virgil’s awkward wave to the demon, they descended from the forest toward the gleaming city wall.

* * * * * * * * * *

If the city wall had looked big before, now it was monstrous. Roman had to crane his neck just to see the parapets at the top, and the sunlight reflecting off the white stone made him have to squint his eyes. The enormous iron-plated doors had opened inward and now sat like sentinels watching citizens pour through them. A handful people wandered up the wide cobbled road alongside them, most looking to be farmers or merchants of some kind, toting handcarts of goods into the city. They all seemed to be glancing their way and then either muttering to themselves or whispering to their companions. It took Roman a minute to realize they were probably concerned about the gory apparition floating along behind himself and Virgil.

Roman ran his thumb across the hasty bandages Dorian had magically provided him to wrap around his hand—covering the shimmering gold star the pixies had left.

Less reason for people to pay you attention, he’d said.

“Crap,” Virgil hissed under his breath.

Roman looked up. “What is it?”

“Look, up there above the entrance,” he said, nodding toward the wall ahead of them. Just above the massive doorway was a string of symbols carved into the brilliant stone. A few were numbers and letters that Roman recognized, but the rest were mysteries to him. Similar carvings lined either side of the entrance. “It’s alchemy,” Virgil said.

“What does it say?”

“No, it—alchemy doesn’t say anything, it’s like a magical equation.”

Roman tried not to look too lost. “Okay… can you decipher it, then?”

Virgil squinted up at the writing as they slowly approached alongside the crowd. “I never really studied it, but my bet is it’s not good for us.”

“Looks like it’s a ward against disguises,” Amaryllis said easily, and they both turned. “You know, transfigurations, invisibility spells, stuff like that? A good security measure, actually.”

Virgil paled as they drew ever nearer to the gate. They couldn’t just stop and stare. They’d draw more attention, though Amaryllis was already doing a bangup job in that department. “No, not good. That means I’ll have to revert to a cat.”

“And?” Roman asked, cocking his head. “It’s just a gate. You can turn back once we’re on the other side, right?” Truthfully, he was just excited to get to explore a magical kingdom for the first time.

Virgil jerked a thumb back at Amaryllis. “And I doubt the guards are going to let her pass without asking you a few questions first. I won’t be able to talk our way out of it.”

Roman shrugged, grabbing Virgil’s hand and dragging him forward to the gate. “It’s a good thing I’m an amazing actor, then,” he laughed. “I’ll figure it out. Come on!”

“No—Roman!” Virgil hissed, but it was too late. Roman knew they would have had a better chance by making a plan beforehand, but they were at the gate now. It was time to think on their feet. The second Roman pulled Virgil over the threshold of the entryway, his hand disappeared from Roman’s grip and a very disgruntled black cat landed on the cobblestone street in his place. One of the guards, a broad shouldered woman in casual leather armor and a sword at her hip, stepped forward to meet them, eyeing Roman’s sheathed blade.

“Halt,” she ordered with a calm but wary air about her. “State your class.”

Roman blinked. “Class?”

“Of magic.”

Roman wracked his mind for a second too long. Amaryllis placed a chilling hand on his shoulder and leaned over him. “I think my being here speaks for itself, don’t you think? He’s a necromancer.”

The guard didn’t look impressed. “I wasn’t talking to you, wisp,” she spat as if the word were a slur, then turned to address Roman. “Do you have the proper license for that kind of magic?”

At his ankle, Virgil’s tail began to whip back and forth anxiously. Amaryllis folded her arms, glaring at the soldier.

“Uh… no, not on me,” Roman chuckled nervously.

I thought he said he was an amazing actor, Virgil’s voice quipped in his mind and Roman jumped, looking down at Virgil incredulously. Virgil met his eyes, looking equally surprised.

The soldier shook her head. “That’s mage-level magic. You can get in serious trouble for performing that without a license.”

Roman lowered his voice, not having to fake the desperation he was feeling. “Look, I’m sorry. I’ve got the license, it’s just that my mother won’t let me practice anywhere because she thinks the… ghost thing is kinda creepy,” he said, forgetting the technical word Amaryllis had called it. “I snuck out to practice, but I didn’t make it back before the doors were closed for the night, and my mom’s already going to kill me. Could you please let me in? It’ll never happen again, I swear.”

She regarded Roman, narrowing her eyes. “You’ll get stopped every block walking around with that thing trailing behind you like that. If I don’t turn you in, someone else will.”

“At least give me a chance,” Roman pleaded. They were taking too long. The other guards were beginning to get curious.

The woman pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re lucky you remind me of my sister,” she grumbled. “Fine, head through, but by the witchgods, be more careful next time.”

“Thank you! I will!” Roman breathed, clasping his hands together gratefully.

“What’s going on here?” a stern voice barked before Roman could so much as take a step past the guard he’d been talking to. From some interior room inside the wall emerged an older woman with slate-gray hair and hard eyes. A knotted, angry scar sprouted from her top lip and curled around her nostril. She was also wearing leather armor, though it was black with a golden star embossed on her chest. The exact same shape as the mark on Roman’s hand.

The guard straightened immediately, arms clapping to her sides. “Commander Steros, ma’am.”

Steros eyed Amaryllis with a cocked eyebrow. “Quite the apparition you’ve got there, boy. What’s the hold up, von Stein?”

The woman—von Stein—shot Roman an apologetic glance before reporting, “He doesn’t have a license, ma’am.”

“Well, I do, actually,” Roman interjected. “I just left it—”

“Wonderful,” Steros said, her smile stretching the scar on her face. “I’ve got a nice bench you can warm while we wait for the jail cart to arrive.”

Roman looked around. The other guards were distracted inspecting a wagon of goods attempting to enter the city. Through the entrance was a wide street full of people, carriages, and wagons. Hoping Virgil would be able to react fast enough in his feline form, Roman took off toward the city.

“Hey!” von Stein shouted. Roman was almost there, when black leather-wrapped arms closed around his chest, pinning his arms and nearly taking them both to the ground. Roman managed to stay upright, thrashing around. Steros grunted, unrelenting despite Virgil attacking her clasped hands.

“Get Rathmore!” she shouted at von Stein. She dashed off, disappearing inside the wall. The two other guards abandoned the merchant’s wagon and rushed to help their commander. One grabbed Virgil by the scruff and tore him away from Steros. One even tried to grab Amaryllis, not realizing she wasn’t corporeal until his arms passed right through her. Virgil went absolutely ballistic on the man holding him.

Steros muttered “Kersch,” and her hold on Roman suddenly grew unbearably tight making it hard to breathe. Roman wheezed, his fighting instincts kicking into overdrive. Amaryllis might have been shouting something, but all he could feel were scales around him, squeezing tighter and tighter.

“Calm down, kid. Stop fighting,” she said in his ear. “You’ll only make things worse for yourself.”

Roman reached for pistols that weren’t there. He’d left all his weapons at home. Not even a dagger. A handful of days after the curse broke and he was already going soft. Roman flung his head back into Steros’s face. The woman cursed, but her grip didn’t loosen. Something in the back of Roman’s mind pointed out that getting arrested would still mean he got into the city, but it was eclipsed by an overwhelming urge to not get caught. Fear that could only have been Virgil’s pounded through his mind, and all Roman could picture was Dorian about to kill him. He was stuck in a forest, and Virgil, it seemed, was stuck in whatever memories kept him up at night.

“Baesta!” Roman cried, using the first word that came to mind.

“Roman, no!” Amaryllis shrieked. Power surged through his entire body. Steam curled off his skin, though he didn’t feel hot. The air whistled as magic shot out of him like a deadly saw blade, cutting him free. He stumbled forward, Steros falling away from him. Warm liquid bathed his back and arms, splashing against his shoulders and spraying his cheek. Several bystanders screamed. Roman stood there, panting. Movement tugged his eyes downward. Something falling in front of him. Two severed arms.

“Steros!” one guard shouted, dropping Virgil. The cat landed, but didn’t move, staring at the limbs at Roman’s feet.

Ro… what did you do? his voice echoed through his mind. Roman turned, horrified. Steros lay in a rapidly growing puddle of her own blood.

“Commander!” the other man bellowed, rushing to the woman’s side. He looked up at the frozen crowd of citizens around them. “Someone get a doctor!” he barked at them, but everyone was too shocked to move. “Haymond!” he shouted at the one who’d been holding Virgil. “Go! Now!”

Haymond dashed off without another word, sprinting up the street.

The door on the inside of the wall slammed open and von Stein rushed out, a man in a billowing magenta cloak at her heels.

“What did you do?!” von Stein demanded, charging Roman.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—” Roman stammered as Von Stein grabbed him my the shirtfront and nearly lifted him off the ground.

“This is beyond my capabilities,” the cloaked man said, kneeling over Steros. Roman figured this was Rathmore. He had thick, coiled black hair, and a neatly cut beard, his outfit far finer than anyone else’s at the scene. He pulled off his leather gloves, feeling Steros’s pulse. “She needs a doctor. Now.”

“Let me heal her! I can do it!” Roman cried, gripping von Stein’s wrists. “Please! She’s dying.”

“You tried to kill her in the first place!”

“No, I—it was an accident. Let me help!” he pleaded.

Rathmore shook his head. “You’ll only make things worse, boy.” Steros stared blankly at the arched stone above her, her chest rising and falling shallowly. She looked like she was still in shock.

“What is that?” von Stein demanded, shaking Roman a little.

“What?” He followed her gaze to the bandages on his hand. They’d slipped a little, revealing the topmost point of the golden mark. She tore the bandages away and gasped, releasing him.

“Rathmore, look,” she breathed.

“Tana, I’m a little busy keeping your commander alive, I don’t have time—”

“He’s got the mark!” she exclaimed, yanking Roman’s hand forward so the cloaked man could see clearly.

“This is not the time for legends,” he chided. “Steros is dying.”

“Please, let me fix this,” Roman said, rushing to the commander’s side. “If it doesn’t work, then you can arrest me. Charge me with murder, I don’t care—but she’s not going to last like this.”

Rathmore studied him wordlessly. Roman didn’t wait for his answer, replacing Steros’s arms and laying his hands on her shoulders. He took a breath, calming the tremble in his hands. He could do this. He knew he could.

“Isumani,” he said with conviction. Just like when he’d healed Virgil back in Wakeby’s forest, all the blood pooling on the ground flowed back into Steros’s body. His clothes tugged a bit as the portion covering him also retreated back where it had come from. She writhed a bit, gasping. Roman winced, aware of the amulet’s familiar weight beneath his shirt. He knew the feeling. Her arms reattached quickly, stitching themselves back together without leaving so much as a bruise behind. Steros’s nose also straightened out and the scar on her lip disappeared. Roman removed his hands and sat back, a little out of breath from the whole experience.

“There,” he sighed. “All better.”

Rathmore gaped at him. “You used witchtongue.”

“Yeah?” Roman said, bringing a hand up to wipe his forehead. “Virgil, are you okay?” he asked turning. Virgil trotted up beside him, still looking a little jumpy, but overall unharmed.

I’m fine, he said. You’re going to have a lot of explaining to do, though.

“Well, I wasn’t just going to let her die,” Roman countered, finding himself becoming more and more comfortable with this new avenue of communication.

“You used witchtongue to perform complicated medical magic,” Rathmore breathed, apparently still hung up about it. “You… may I see your hand?” he asked.

“Uh, sure,” Roman said, letting Rathmore take his hand and inspect the sun-shaped mark.

“And you were born with it?”

“Pixies gave it to me, actually,”

“Interesting,” the man muttered.

“I’d hate to interrupt your little conversation, boys,” Steros said, “but I’d like to get up now.”

They both backed away instantly, Rathmore getting to his feet. Roman stayed on his knees. Steros got to her feet, looking a bit like she’d be sick, but held her composure. She looked down at her hands and flexed them.

“Keep moving!” von Stein barked at the merchants and civilians who’d gathered around the scene. “No loitering at the gates!”

“Wait,” Steros said, soft but firm. The crowd hesitated. She slowly looked at every person there, meeting their eyes. When she finished, she clasped her newly reattached arms behind her back. “I have memorized all of your faces. Speak of this to anyone, and I will have you arrested for endangering the peace. Understood?”

The crowd offered hasty nods and mutters of agreement.

“Very well. Be on your way,” she said dismissively, then turned to von Stein. “Keep anyone else from passing until I’ve handled this.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The commander turned her attention to Roman. He shrank a bit under her gaze. Virgil pressed up against his side, staring up at the woman defiantly. Amaryllis floated just behind Roman’s shoulder, remaining silent. Steros’s gaze flickered toward the exposed mark on the back of his hand.

She drew the sword at her side. Virgil tensed, letting out a hiss. Steros cocked an eyebrow at him, holding her blade up horizontally, showing the runes running down its length.

“Alchemy?” Roman wondered aloud. They looked similar to the symbols he’d seen above the gate.

“Indeed,” Steros said. “It can compel people to tell the truth. I’m going to prick you with it. It would serve you well not to resist.”

I don’t like this, Virgil grumbled.

“It’s fine, Virge. It’s only fair,” Roman said, holding out his hand. Steros extended her blade, resting the point just below his thumb. Right next to the faint scar where he’d taken Dorian’s venom. Hoping to show his goodwill, Roman thrust his hand forward, unflinching as the tip of the blade broke through the skin.

Steros regarded him with an unreadable expression, pulling her blade back, his crimson blood staining the tip. The runes shimmered, as if heating up. Rathmore peered over her shoulder, fidgeting with curiosity. Even von Stein, who stood with her fellow guards at the front of the gate kept glancing back, eyes wild with interest. Hope, even.

“Why did you heal me?” Steros asked, blade still trained in his direction.

“Because I could,” Roman blurted before he could so much as think about what to say.

“Why did you harm me?”

“Because I was scared.”

Steros snorted. “You were scared of getting caught without a license, so you severed both my arms?”

“No,” was all Roman was compelled to say. Apparently, the sword couldn’t force him to expound on his answers.

“What were you scared of?”

For the first time, Roman attempted to withhold an answer. He couldn’t very well reveal that an enormous snake-demon was hanging out around the kingdom. A strangled sound leaked from his throat as his own voice fought him. “Not you,” he managed at last. Not technically a lie, but not a straight answer either, leaving him nearly breathless from the effort.

“He’s circumventing the spell!” Rathmore said, grabbing Steros’s shoulder in his excitement. “Marvelous! Simply mar—sorry,” he said, retreating a few steps at the commander’s withering look.

“What were you scared of?” she repeated.

“Memories.”

“Of what?”

Again, Roman resisted, gritting his teeth.

“Roman,” Amaryllis said softly, hovering down near his ear, “it might be better if you just—”

“Silence, wisp!” Steros barked, revealing an edge of desperation. She looked back at Roman. “Are you The Last Heir of legend?”

“Yes,” Roman growled against his will. Rathmore gasped, and Steros paled. Virgil let out a low sound, taking a step in front of Roman.

“Why are you here?” Steros demanded.

“To learn how to control my power.”

“Do you pose a threat to this kingdom?”

“I could,” Roman admitted, though he wished he hadn’t. “I…. I don’t—” he struggled to form words that weren’t a direct answer. If only he could explain himself.

“Who’s the wisp?” Steros continued.

“My teacher.”

She nodded at Virgil. “Your familiar?”

“Yes.”

“And they shall bring life by learning from the dead,” Rathmore quoted with an almost reverent tone. “All manner of beings at their side.”

Steros swallowed, leveling her blade at him once again. “If you’re this land’s supposed savior, with the power to rid the world of some evil force,” she snarled, pressing the tip of her blade into his collarbone. Blood oozed sluggishly down his chest and the runes on the sword began to hum. “What could you possibly have been afraid of?”

“Demons,” Roman gasped against the overwhelming strength of the compulsion. Please let that be enough of an answer, he thought desperately. Steros stared at him for a long time while Rathmore nearly began jumping up and down, blathering about prophecies and legends.

At last, she withdrew her blade, and wiped his blood away with her tunic. Roman slumped as the compulsion lifted, leaving him feeling a little lightheaded.

Virgil sniffed his cheek fretfully. Are you okay?

“Yeah, bud,” he sighed, running a hand down his fur. A guard appeared from within the city, out of breath with a woman in a red uniform at his side.

“I’ve got a doctor! Where’s—” he stopped, staring at the commander in bewilderment.

Steros sheathed her blade with a metallic shink, and straightened her shoulders. “I apologize for the inconvenience, healer,” she said to the woman in red. “Your services are no longer needed.”

The healer nodded and retreated into the city.

“Haymond,” Steros said to the newly returned guard, who snapped to attention. She pulled a ring from her finger and handed it to him. “Present this to Councilor Norwood. Have her call an immediate assembly, by my request.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Haymond said and then dashed off once more.

#graphic depictions of violence #blood #gore #tw blood #tw gore #dismemberment #tw panic #panic #flashbacks #tw flashbacks #past homophobia #past verbal abuse #past physical abuse #physical abuse #verbal abuse #sanders sides fic #COTN

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sagehaleyofficial · 5 years

Text

HERE’S WHAT YOU MISSED THIS WEEK (9.25-10.1.19):

NEW MUSIC:

· Pale Waves debuted a brand new pop-punk song titled “Tomorrow” at a gig in Glasgow last Monday. The band was also recently unveiled as the opening support for Halsey on her upcoming tour.

· State Champs released a new cover of Matchbox Twenty’s song, “Real World,” for the upcoming compilation album, Songs That Saved My Life Vol. 2. Hopeless Records and Sub City’s compilation benefits mental health and suicide prevention organizations.

· Pierce the Veil frontman Vic Fuentes announced that the band’s next album is “getting closer and closer” to completion. He recently took to Instagram to give fans an update about his life, as well as other band-related news.

· The Almost dropped their first new music since 2013, a song titled “Chokehold,” as well as unveiled plans for an upcoming full-length album and tour. The band, spearheaded by Underoath drummer/vocalist Aaron Gillespie, have recently signed to Fearless Records.

· Creeper teased their fans with cryptic, paranormal videos and tweets on their social media pages. Last November, they appeared to announce their breakup onstage in London, and recently played an intimate gig under the name “Fugitives of Heaven” in the same city.

· Waterparks dropped an emotional new track titled “High Definition,” as well as a music video, from their upcoming third studio album, Fandom. Lead singer Awsten Knight tweeted that the song is “probably [his] favorite thing [he’s] written.”

· Issues dropped a video for their new song, “Flexin,” that shows that features a star from RuPaul’s Drag Race. The video stars Farrah Moan, also known as former MySpace scene kid, Cameron Ugh.

· Bayside dropped the newest single, “Bury Me,” off their upcoming studio album, Interrobang. The band is also getting fans hyped by giving fans the chance to open for them with a “battle of the bands” contest.

· Dance Gavin Dance released an instrumental version of their 2011 album, Downtown Battle Mountain II. The newly released instrumental album comes after the release last month of the instrumental version of the band’s fourth album, Acceptance Speech.

�� Disney’s Frozen 2 has unveiled the official soundtrack featuring covers of “Into the Unknown” by Panic! at the Disco, “Lost in the Woods” by Weezer and more. Country singer Kacey Musgraves has also signed on to put her own spin onto a track from the film.

· Go Radio announced their return six years after their final show. The band released a statement on Instagram, as well as a short video, that detailed their plans to make new music.

· Green Day will be unveiling a new song during a video montage that will air ahead of a National Hockey League game. The new song is called “Fire, Ready, Aim” and comes from the band’s upcoming album Father of All… out on February 7, 2020.

TOUR ANNOUNCEMENTS:

· All Time Low unveiled eight show dates in Los Angeles, Chicago and Sayreville, New Jersey, in celebration of the 10th anniversary of their studio album, Nothing Personal. Selling out almost immediately, they also announced they’d be re-recording the album and dropping a documentary on its making.

· Slam Dunk unveiled its first wave of acts for its 2020 festival. The stacked lineup includes Don Broco, Mayday Parade, State Champs, Four Year Strong, the Wonder Years, Motion City Soundtrack, Knuckle Puck, Bayside, Issues, Hands Like Houses, Ice Nine Kills and many more.

· Fans of Twenty One Pilots accused fellow music duo the Chainsmokers of copying the stage setup for The Bandito Tour after seeing the latter’s show. Both bands are currently on massive world tours with the former starting their tour last October.

· Waterparks have unveiled a series of acoustic shows that will take place at various music stores in the U.S. The band will be performing and signing their upcoming record Fandom at the five exclusive shows.

· Solo artist and former Panic! At The Disco guitarist Ryan Ross covered one of his former band’s songs at a show on Monday. Ross performed “Northern Downpour” at a gig in Arizona that he performed with the Dead End Kids Club, alongside Z Berg of the Young Veins.

OTHER NEWS:

· Starbucks recently announced the addition of a Jack Skellington-inspired Frappuccino to its secret menu. The drink consists of a pumpkin spice Frappuccino with a shot of chai syrup, and was created by fans of the Nightmare Before Christmas.

· Avril Lavigne responded in an interview with Billboard to comparisons that fellow pop singer Billie Eilish has been receiving to her music. She talked about how she feels she is similar to Eilish because they are both “individuals.”

· Panic! at the Disco unveiled they’re getting their own music pack in popular virtual reality rhythm game, Beat Saber. The pack will be dropping next week, with both the band and the game tweeting the news.

· AMC Theatres debuted a brand new ICEE drink inspired by the upcoming Addams Family animated film. The movie releases on October 11th and the drink, called a Spooky Clack Cherry ICEE, and is black in color.

· The Umbrella Academy, popular comic series turned Netflix show originally created by My Chemical Romance’s Gerard Way, announced its first spinoff. The 32-page comic book will be called Hazel and Cha Cha Save Christmas: Tales from the Umbrella Academy.

· Fall Out Boy bassist Pete Wentz was announced as a producer and music supervisor for a forthcoming Snapchat original short-form series dealing with mental health. Wentz will serve as both producer and musical supervisor for the series, bringing original music to the show.

· Founding Set It Off guitarist, Dan Clermont, announced his exit from the band after a five-month hiatus following allegations against an “unnamed member of the band.” Clermont also took to Twitter to comment on his departure.

· Concord Records has acquired the legendary Victory Records in an estimated multi-million-dollar deal. The iconic punk and emo label has been a mainstay in the scene for breaking major artists such as Taking Back Sunday, A Day to Remember and more.

___

Check in next Tuesday for more “Posi Talk with Sage Haley,” only at @sagehaleyofficial!

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bellakitse · 5 years

Note

Prompt #38 for Malex

prompt list

38. “Have you lost your mind?”

Five timesMichael stole something from Alex to get him to come to him, and the one-timeAlex stayed for good.

10.

Michael has learned how to act like a human, it’s taken him a few years,but he knows now not to draw symbols of his home on the walls, to not screamfor hours on end and to talk when he needs to. He plays the part of a human boywell enough that he’s made his way back to Roswell with his siblings. He’s withthem again, and that’s all that matters, all he should focus on.

Except that there’s a boy in his class that Michael can’t help butstare at.

A boy with dark brown hair that falls over his chocolate-coloredeyes, eyes that follow Michael and make him hyperaware in a way that makesMichael’s skin feel tight. It makes Michael want to ask what he’s looking at. Itmakes Michael want to ask the boy anything. The desire to talk to someone whoisn’t Isobel or Max is new.

The boy likes to sit alone at free reading time, always with a comic,splashes of color on the cover, Michael can make out the title ‘Superman,’ andit makes him curious enough that when he sees the boy put it away in his desk,Michael can’t help but swipe it.

He sits behind one of the trees far away from the playground sothat the rest of the kids won’t bother him, but not so far Mrs. Gilbert; histeacher will worry and look for him. He stares at the cover of a man in a blueand red suit, soaring through the sky.

“That’s mine, you know.”

Michael looks up startled and finds the boy with the brown eyeslooking down at him with a slight frown on his face.

Michael nods, opening his mouth to apologize for taking it. He’slearned, that’s what humans do. But before he can get the words out, the boysits down next to him, his knee knocking into Michael’s.

“Do you like Superman?” the boy asks. “I have other comics abouthim if you want to read them.”

“Superman?” Michael questions looking down at the comic.

“You don’t know, Superman?” the boy questions, tilting his head tolook at Michael. A silky strand of hair falling over his right eye, it looks sosmooth unlike the mop on Michael’s head, and Michael has the urge to reach outand touch it.

“Superman,” the boy starts, pointing at the man on the cover. “Isan alien from the planet Krypton, his parents sent him away when his planet wasdestroyed, and he landed on Earth, he can fly and is stronger than everyone.”

The boy continues to tell him about Superman as they go throughthe comic, and Michael listens, enthralled. And alien superhero with a secretidentity. Michael is amazed.

“No one is afraid of him?” he questions after a while.

“No,” the boy scoffs. “Well, maybe just the bad guys, but he’shere to help the people of Earth,” the boy finishes just as the bell signaling theend of recess rings out.

“That’s us,” the boy stands up dusting off his pants, he holds outa hand to help Michael up. He stares at it for a moment before taking it.

The boy looks at him, biting down on his lip nervously. “Do youwant me to bring you some more comics?” he finally asks. “We could read them togetherat free time.”

Michael stares, he’s never seen the boy read with anyone at freetime, unlike everyone else who pairs off and now he wants to read with Michael.Michael nods quickly, his stomach giving a funny jump when the boy breaks outin a huge smile.

“I’m Alex by the way, Alex Manes.”

“Michael Guerin.”

14.

“That’s mine, Guerin,” Alex calls out walking up to him on thedeserted schoolyard.

Michael doesn’t bother to look up from the skateboard under hisfoot, and he frowns as he tries to steady himself. He doesn’t know why he can’tget this. He’s a genius, damn it. He understands gravity, motion, balance. Thereis a science to skateboarding, he knows it, but he can’t figure it out.

“Seriously, you steal my skateboard, and now you ignore me?” Alexcomplains, huffing when Michael still doesn’t say anything and continues to tryto work out the problem. “Why are you staring at it like it’s one of thosephysics problems you pretend you don’t work on for fun, it’s skateboarding, it’snot like it’s hard.”

Michael looks up at the boy and glares when he sees a smirk playingon his face. He’d tried earlier to skate on the board only to fall on his ass,and yet he’s seen Alex with it. The boy doesn’t just ride the thing; he likesto show off, doing more and more complicated air tricks.

It’s not hard for Alex, and it’s frustrating for Michael.

Alex looks at him a little longer, his smirk turning into a softsmile. “Do you want me to teach you?”

Michael nods after a minute and holds his breath when Alex steps upclose to him.

“Up on the board, Guerin,” Alex instructs.

“Really, Alex?” Michael rolls his eyes. “On the board, that’s yourgreat lesson?”

Alex gives him an unimpressed look. “Are you going to sass me, orare you going to listen?”

“Can’t I do both?” he teases before asking. “What if I fall?”

“You probably will,” Alex acknowledges, placing his hands onMichael’s waist and Michael gasps as he can feel the heat of Alex’s hands throughhis t-shirt and flannel. “But I’ll hold on to you to help, and if you do fall. I’llbe here to get you up, okay?”

Michael looks at the boy, the earnest expression on his face andbelieves without a doubt.

Believes Alex.

He might fall, but Alex will be there to get him up.

“Okay.”

17.

“What the hell Guerin, you can’t just steal instruments from themusic room,” Alex calls out marching over to Michael as he sits on the tailgateof his truck, taking the guitar from Michael’s hands. “This is mine.”

“I was going to return it, and it was out of tune, so…” Michael answers,a smirk firmly in place. “You’re welcome.”

Alex rolls his kohl-lined eyes at him, there is a small smudgefrom the black pencil under Alex’s left eye, and Michael has to curb the urgeto reach out and wipe it away with his thumb. It seems these days he’s constantly fighting the urge to reach out andtouch Alex.

He’s not stupid enough to not know what it means, and he has eyes.Alex is stupid good-looking even if he does dress like a My Chemical Romancegroupie, which he actually is. But it’s more than that, when it comes to Alex,there has always been a pull for Michael, ever since the first comic book theyshared, only that now it comes with a strong desire to know what Alex’s lipstaste like.

Alex is watching him with those same expressive eyes that alwaysseem to see too much.

“You really do live in your truck?” Alex asks, nodding towards theblankets behind him.

Michael bristles at the question, and he snaps one of his own. “Areall the rumors about you true?” he asks, instantly feeling bad as Alextakes a step away from him. He knows Alex has been getting shit for being gayand not hiding it. Kyle Valenti and his group of neanderthals can’t seem to goa day without picking on Alex.

“You’re kinda lucky you know,” Alex starts, looking away before backat Michael. “Things at my house suck.”

He starts to walk away, only to stop again, his back to Michael.

“There’s this toolshed out behind my house,” Alex says quietly, stillnot looking at him. “It’s warm, and I go there when things get bad, so…” he trailsoff and leaves.

Michael sits there confused at to what exactly Alex is offering.

Later, when they’re in the shed playing music, Michael finallygets it.

Alex is offering him what he’s never had. A home.

21.

Michael is watching Alex pull up his pants as he lays on the thinbed of the cheap motel they found an hour outside of Roswell. Alex is back intown for exactly 48 hours, and they have spent 40 of those hours in bed wrappedup in each other, willfully ignoring that their time is running out.

Michael hates it, and for a moment hates Alex. It’s like thisevery time Alex blows into town. He follows wherever Alex leads only to be leftbehind again. He spots Alex’s dog tags on the bedside table and reaches forthem, putting them on.

“Those are mine, Guerin,” Alex says, tucking his shirt into hisfatigues.

“If I keep them, will you stay?” Michael can’t help but ask,blushing at his own ridiculous question. Of course, Alex can’t stay; he knowsthat. He’s not stupid. Staying means going AWOL, but he still wants Alex tostay. He’s 21, and he’s in love, and the boy he loves keeps leaving.

He just wants him to stay.

Alex looks at him, and it breaks Michael’s heart how sad Alex looks.

“That’s not the way it works, Guerin,” Alex says quietly, thesorrow in his brown eyes too much for Michael. So even though he should be buildingup his walls, ready to watch Alex leave again, he finds himself standing up andwrapping his arms around the Airman, holding him close as he lets out ashuddering breath.

When they separate, Alex has his hands around the dog tags,holding them to Michael’s chest.

“I’m keeping them,” Michael says firmly. “I’ll give them to youwhen you come back.”

28.

“Give me my fucking keys, Guerin!” Alex shouts, his face red andangry.

“Why!” he shouts back, just as furious but also scared, terrified,because if he lets Alex leave now, he’s going to lose him forever. And not inthe way he’s already lost him. Not in the way that Alex avoids him since hefound him at The Wild Pony with Maria.

No, this is a losing him forever, bury him kind of way, thatleaves Michael without any air in his lungs.

Alex hasn’t talked to him in months other than when strictly necessary;only when it comes to alien business. It doesn’t matter that he and Maria lasteda millisecond. It doesn’t matter that he’s told him he made a mistake. Heanswers that Michael has nothing to be sorry about and that it wasn’t a mistake.Michael should want to get away from him.

Alex has completely shut down around him, around everyone, livingand breathing to bring his father down.

“I have to go, Guerin,” Alex starts tiredly.

“And what?” Michael questions, his voice going high, and he feelshimself shake, fear gripping through him. “Try to stop your dad and getyourself killed? I read the files, Alex! I know what you want to do. If you go,you won’t come back.”

“I have to make things right!” Alex shouts, still angry but now desperate.“I have to fix everything he’s done to you; I have to make amends.”

“You don’t have to make amends for your father, Alex!” he screamsback, at his wit’s end. “You aren’t him; this isn’t on you.”

Alex stops and looks at him, letting out a bitter laugh after amoment. “Aren’t I, Guerin? Isn’t that why you didn’t want me anymore, why youwent to Maria? Because I remind you of my dad,” Alex whispers, tears runningdown his face. “Because I’m just like him, in your eyes?”

Michael shakes his head, crying. His words and actions have done somuch damage, and now he’s about to lose what matters the most to him because ofit. He doesn’t realize he’s hyperventilating until Alex’s hands are on his faceforcing him to look at him.

“Breathe, Michael,” Alex commands, his gaze steady. “Breathe forme.

“Please,” he begs through gasping breaths. “Please don’t go, don’tleave me. I love you, Alex, I love you, and if you die, I’ll die.”

“Michael,” Alex exhales, but Michael isn’t done, he gripsAlex’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he continues. “I’m so fucking sorry. I was hurt, andI turned around and hurt you too, and If I could take it back, I would. Ishould have told you I loved you that night you came to the airstream. I shouldhave come back the next day instead of standing you up. I should have done somany things differently.”

Alex shakes his head, his hands running through Michael’s hair,making him sob, it’s been so long since Alex has touched him. “It’s not just onyou, I have fucked up so much Michael, I get you wanting to move on from us;from me. I don’t blame you.”

“I haven’t moved on,” Michael whispers, his voice wet from crying.“I could never move on from you; you’re my home; you’re my everything. If youdon’t want to be with me, I can learn to live with it, but if you die, I’llfollow you, Alex. I swear I will.”

Alex lets out a pained noise right before crushing his lipsagainst Michael’s, only pulling back when breathing becomes a problem.

“I have always wanted you,” Alex says as he cradles Michael’sface, wiping away the fresh tears his words cause. “I always will.”

“So don’t leave,” Michael begs one more time, letting out a tremblingbreath when Alex presses his forehead against his and nods.

28.

Michael is sitting around his fire pit when Alex pulls up; he looksdown at Bagel who raises her head in curiosity before laying it back down overMichael’s boot. “It’s showtime, baby girl,” he whispers down at the beagle. “Rememberto be super cute.”

Bagel gives him a look that screams ‘Bitch, please.’ And Michaelgrins, he loves this dog.

“Have you lost your mind?” Alex asks as he walks out of his car,his eyes wide, a familiar piece of paper in his hand and Michael has to bitedown on his lip to keep from grinning, even as his heart pounds wildly in hischest as he looks at his boyfriend.

“Problem?” he asks innocently, smirking as Alex lets out an exasperatedscreech.

“Yes, Michael!” Alex yells. “You can’t kidnap my dog and leave mea note telling me if I want to see her again, I’ll have to marry you!”

“Dognap,” Michael corrects, easily. “I mean she is our kid,but technically it’s a dognapping.”

Alex gapes at him.

“And really,” he continues as he stands. “Bagel is as much my dogas yours, so really I just took her on a little trip.”

Alex seems to snap out of it at that and glares at him. “You can’tjust claim my dog as yours.”

“The hell I can’t,” Michael shoots back. “I claim her, and I claimyou, you’re mine. Enough of our bullshit.”

Alex lets out an incredulous laugh, but Michael can see the hopein his eyes, the love shining through.

“You can’t keep stealing my stuff,” Alex protests halfheartedly,taking a step towards him.

“Sure I can,” Michael says softly as he reaches for him, holdingAlex by his waist. “At least I give them back, you stole my heart years ago,and you don’t hear me complaining.”

Alex looks away for a moment before looking back at Michael, asmile on his face. “Well, it’s mine,” he says easily.

“It is,” he murmurs in agreement, leaning to kiss Alex’s temple. “So,marry me.”

“Michael,” Alex starts softly. “We’ve only been back together acouple of months.”

Michael laughs just as soft. “We’ve been together for years, Alex.”

Alex goes to speak, and Michael presses two fingers against hismouth. “We’ve been together since the first moment we kissed, but I have beenyours since you first shared Superman with me.”

“An alien superhero,” Alex whispers, smiling at the memory, hiseyes bright. “And now I get to marry one.”

#roswell nm #malex fic #malex #michael x alex #my writing #ask #anon #Anonymous

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batskulldrag · 4 years

Text

Phoenix by Fallout Boy

Heads up, the beginning to this chapter in intense with angst. Trigger warning for abuse.

After that it should be ok. and we finally get to see deceit. His human name is Ethan and he is their new lawyer.

Chapter Seven: Hellfire from The Hunchback of Notre Dame soundtrack

Virgil woke up in a sterile greenish blue room. There was a heart monitor beeping somewhere. It might have been his. He felt an IV in his arm, and a truck load of pain everywhere else. He tried to remember how he got here.

Last thing I remember is… His blood turned to ice water.

The last thing he could recall was his father being furious. And hurting him, he had been thrashed within an inch of his life. He tried to look around, but he could only see out of one eye. The other one was swollen shut. He didn’t see his father though.

Maybe he had finally gone too far, and CPS had stepped in. Maybe things were ok now. And he’d get sent somewhere else. And his dad would get sent to prison. Maybe it was over.

A few doctors came and went, checking his vitals and stuff like that. None of them said anything about him of his dad. He had to know.

“Why am I here?” He fought intense agony to speak.

“Shh.” One of the nurses cooed. “Don’t try to talk, sweetie. You’ve had a nasty fall and you injured a few ribs. Just lie very still.”

“Where’s my…” He felt like he had been stabbed with a hack saw. “My… Dad?”

“He’s right outside. He’ll be in with you in a moment.”

Whatever pain he was in was dwarfed by the crushing blow of disappointment. Nothing was ok. He felt tears falling across his face, seeping into open cuts and stinging like hell. Of course, they swallowed whatever excuse his father had fed them. And there was no way they’d ask for his side of what happened. No, he was just a prop. No one wanted to know how he said it happened.

“It’s ok,” The nurse soothed. “You’re alright now. Everything’s going to be fine.”

She didn’t know! Of course, she didn’t know! How could she even say that!? Didn’t she know that it wasn’t ok!?

It’s not ok! Help me!

His dad walked into the room with a mask of concern that he wore amazingly. Nominate him for an Oscar, he deserves it. Even Virgil himself was tempted to think his father had an ounce of remorse.

“How is he?” His dad asked in such a genuine tone, when did he find time to rehearse?

“He’ll pull through.” The nurse assured him.

“Oh, thank goodness.” He sighed. “I was so worried. He’s all I have after his mother left me. If something happened to him…” He trailed off. The fucker even shed a tear.

“I understand.” Welp, he had her.

“Is it alright if I stay with him now?”

“Of course.” She said.

NO TAKE IT BACK!! TAKE IT BACK!!!

“In fact, he was just asking for you.”

“Poor baby. He must be terrified.”

DON’T LAEVE HIM WITH ME!! PLEASE HELP ME!!!

“I’ll leave you two alone.”

NO! SAVE ME!! PLEASE HELP ME!!!

She left. And more importantly she left him alone with his dad.

“It hurts doesn’t it.” The mask came off. All that was left was the sadistic tone of his father. “I may have told them you were morphine intolerant.”

“Why?” It came out as a whimper.

“Well, I had to get my point across.”

“Why?” He wheezed again.

“Well.” His father started. “First off, I want you to know they’re not going to ask you if you can have morphine, they already believe me. And they won’t ask for a second opinion. And that goes for your little tumble down our stairs. You tripped and fell, and your frantic dad rushed you to the emergency room. And if you say otherwise, I think we know who they’ll side with.”

“And even if they believe you.” He grinned; the monster might as well have had three rows of teeth. “They’re a bunch of doctors who didn’t repeat seventh grade. They’ll just say I went easy on you. You see the grown up isn’t just always telling the truth, but they’re also always right.”

He pressed down on one of his ribs. Virgil yelped in pain.

“So, don’t disappoint me again.” He hissed.

Last thing Virgil remembers is everything going black.

# # #

“PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME!!!!” Virgil cried. “PLEASE HELP ME!!”

Patton and Logan both shot awake and bolted to Virgil’s room. They met Roman in the doorway; he had brought a weapon. They all ran in as Virgil continued to shriek.

“SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!” He pleaded, thrashing around on the bed like he was being murdered.

Roman burst in and Logan switched the lights on.

“Get away from him!” Roman demanded of the empty room.

Virgil screamed and fell of the bed. He then just laid on the floor whimpering and drenched with sweat.

“My baby.” Patton yelped, rushing to his side. “Are you ok honey?”

“…I-I-I’m fine.” He panted. “I just had a bad dream.”

Roman hid his samurai sword behind his back.

“It’s ok.” Patton cooed, pulling the younger man into his lap. “I’m here, Da- I’ve got you.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Logan knelt beside Patton.

“No.” Virgil’s voice came out as a squeak.

“Ok.” Patton gently rubbed his back. “You don’t have to. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

With that said, Virgil started sobbing. Patton looked at Logan in horror and mouthed out ‘what did I do?’. Logan shook his head in mutual confusion. Roman sat down on the floor with them and stretched his hand out to Virgil.

“It’s ok.” He said softly, running his hand through the child’s hair. “You’re allowed to cry. You’re allowed to feel this. It’s ok.”

Virgil continued crying as he buried his face in Patton’s shirt.

“They-they’re gonna…” He gasped from Patton’s chest. “They’re not gonna believe me.”

“Who?” Logan asked, with a pretty good idea he knew the answer.

“The courts or the jury or whoever.” He panted. “They’re gonna take his side.”

“No,” Patton soothed. “No, they won’t. it’s just his word against, like mountain of evidence.”

“But he said I’m allergic to morphine and I’m not allergic to morphine,” He rambled in short, ragged breaths. “And they just went with it, and no one asked me if I fell down the stairs or not. Cause he already said I did. And…and…” He gasped hard.

“Shh, shh.” Patton tutted. “It’s alright, no one’s gonna just blindly believe him ever again. He’s been branded as a liar. As he should be.”

“Virgil.” Logan gently grabbed his shoulder. “No one is going to believe him over you. No one is going to believe him over evidence. This isn’t just he says you say.”

Virgil mumbled something into Patton’s chest.

“What?” Logan made a face like he had just been slapped.

“I said.” Virgil sniveled. “What if they think he was going easy on me and I deserved it.”

“Virgil.” Logan grabbed him by both shoulders and pulled his face up. “Look me in the eyes and listen to me. No one is going to say that. No one! You did not deserve any of what he did to you. Do you understand me!? You did not deserve that! And he did not go easy on you! He nearly killed you twice now! That does not quantify going easy on someone! No one is going to think that he was in the right, because he wasn’t! What he did was wrong! And nobody is going to think otherwise! Do you understand?!”

Virgil nodded timidly.

Logan sighed and pulled Virgil into a hug.

“Ok.” He whispered. “I’m sorry for raising my voice to you. But you need to understand this. Your father…” He made a face at the title. “Payton was wrong to do this. And no one else is like that. This isn’t normal, and it isn’t right.”

“I lied about what grade I’m in.” Virgil said. It was barely audible over his breathing. “I got held back. I’m starting eighth grade in the fall.”

“I figured that out.” Logan sighed. “We got your school records last night.”

“And you were asking all the questions about being held back earlier.” Patton added. “It was a really bad lie.”

A long, tense silence filled the room.

“We’re not going to do anything you expect us to do.” Roman broke the silence. “Please don’t lie to us again.”

“Yeah, that about sums it up.” Patton wiped a tear off Virgil’s cheek. “We’d like you to trust us, and we wanna be able to trust you. Sound fair?”

Virgil nodded.

“Good.” Logan patted him on the head, it was unspeakably awkward. “Do you think you can fall asleep on your own, or would you like to take one of your pills?”

“I’m fine.” Virgil sighed. “I don’t need to take anything.

“Ok. But if you need your medicine come get one of us.” Patton fussed, pulling Virgil in and stroking his hair. “Do you want one of us to stay here until you fall asleep?”

“No, I’m ok.” He paused and smiled coyly. “Trust me.”

“We gotta get you some other bands to listen to.” Roman said unamused. “You can’t just keep quoting My Chemical Romance.”

“My chemical Roman?” Patton quipped.

“Patton,” Logan said calmly. “No.”

“Absolutely not.” Roman agreed. “Never call me that again.”

“I thought it was funny.” Virgil piped in, giving Patton a weak smile.

“Well, at least one of us can appreciate humor.” Patton ruffled his hair. “You go ahead and get some sleep now. We’ll talk more in the morning if you feel like it.”

“Ok.” Virgil yawned. “Thanks.”

“It’s no trouble.”

“I mean thanks, for.” He looked down and bit his lip. “Thanks for everything. All of you.”

“That’s no trouble either.” Patton continued to pet him softly.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Oooh, you’re feisty.” Patton teased. “Let’s get you into bed kiddo.”

Patton helped him up and tucked him in, despite his protests the he was thirteen and didn’t need to be tucked in. Patton disregarded him without so much as going ‘uh-huh’ and pretending to listen.

“Sometimes.” Patton kissed him on the forehead. “It’s nice to be tucked in.”

As the three of them left the room Logan switched the light off and closed the door.

“Poor little baby.” Patton whimpered as soon as the door closed. “How could anyone do something like that? He’s just a little kid.”

“Some people are just rotten,” Roman patted him on the shoulder. “In a perfect world you’d be an only child. All we can do is be decent human beings to make up for the vile few who waste our air.”

“I agree.” Logan nodded. “Just not as dramatically. Yes, there are bad people out there. And yes, all we can really do to counter them is act properly. There’s no point dwelling on what your brother did, all we can do now is work to help Virgil.”

“I mean,” Roman gestured towards the door. “We already succeeded in not giving him night terrors. I’ll call that the minimum. So, we’re off to a great start.”

“What the proverbial hell are you wearing?” Logan asked, only really looking at him for the first time.

Roman looked down at himself. He was shirtless and clad only in red booty shorts that read ‘Royal’ across the butt.

“It’s hot!” His face changed to match his shorts in hue. “it’s summer and we live in Florida!”

“I think we all look silly.” Patton mumbled, tugging on the hem of his Pawton T-shirt.

“I thought Virgil was being attacked by an intruder.” Roman argued. “I had time to either grab my robe or my sword!”

“What were you gonna do, seduce the murderer?” Patton made a face.

“Why are we having this discussion again?” Logan rubbed his temples.

“Oh, we’re doing this?” Roman got defensive. “Because I happened to notice you were wearing seashell print underwear when you came to get me on Friday. And Patton had on dark blue boxers.”

“So?” Logan challenged.

“So, you don’t wear print underwear and Patton doesn’t own any without print.” Roman smirked sadistically. “I think you had on more than his shirt.”

“Oh my God!!” Virgil screamed from the other room. “Get away from my door! I can hear you!!!”

“I take back what I said about the nightmares.” Roman said flatly.

# # #

The following evening was Patton and Logan’s turn to have to deal with the press. So, Roman was on babysitting duty. Given what would go down in infamy as ‘the booty short incident’ things were a bit awkward between the two. And now that Patton and Logan had left Roman was starting to feel a bit like the friend of a friend.

“Do you think you’d like to be on the news once you’re feeling better?” Roman asked to ease the tension.

“Sorry, what?” Virgil pulled out an earbud. He was curled up on the couch with his computer.

“I was wondering if you wanted to be interviewed when you feel better.” Roman fought the cringe. “I’m sure they want to speak to you.”

“I’m sure I’m not as beat up as they want me to be.” Virgil paused what he was watching. “Not too many bruises to exploit. Unless they want me to strip.”

“That may not be so uncommon.” Roman said. “They asked me to strip last night.”

“Really?” Virgil sat up and looked at him intensely.

“Yes, I’m so gorgeous that everywhere I go people want me to take my clothes off.” Roman finished off the bit elegantly. “Mostly the ladies, but once the guys find out I’m on that side of the field… well. Let’s just say that they are not as weak as people think they are.”

“I can’t believe I fell for that.” Virgil slumped back. “I’m an idiot.”

“Well, maybe it’s just really believable.” Roman smirked. “I do have a god bod.”

“You are like uber gay. Patton and Logan are married to each other and you’re still the gayest person in the house.”

“How about you? Any crushes?” Roman turned the tables. “I bet everyone goes crazy over those eyes.”

“Nah.” Virgil looked down and drug his hand across the rim of his laptop. “None yet.”

“I guess that’s been pretty far from your mind.” Roman realized what he had done. “I’m sure you’ll be getting into it as you get older. Logan didn’t have his first until he was eighteen.”

“Logan has…” He trailed off.

“And you had other stuff to deal with.” Roman finished for him. “When you get your bearings, you’ll get your first crush, and if you never take an interest in romance, so be it. Different people need different things, and they need them at different times.”

Virgil smiled softly at him, his lips only parting slightly to show a thin portion of his teeth.

“And right now,” Roman stood up. “You need to watch Hunchback of Notre Dame with me.”

“No way, I read that book, it’s horrible.” Virgil objected.

“We’re watching the Disney version; it has a happy ending.” Roman explained. “Also, there’s a book?”

“Yeah, it’s long.”

“You’re in middle school, what are you doing reading stuff like that?”

“I was in some kind of advanced reading class over the past couple of summers. You know, anything to eat up whatever free time I can get.”

“So, you’re reading on like a high school level.” Roman pointed at him.

“So, what, reading’s not hard. Like, everyone can read.”

“Not on a high school level they can’t.”

“Anyone who passed high school can.” Virgil countered, throwing his hands up.

“Do you remember our different people chat from a moment ago?”

“Just put in the movie.” He paused. “Wait, what time is your interview showing?”

“Last night.” Roman shrugged. “It was pretty boring. And I decided that I hate it when the press tries to be clever.”

“Go on.”

“Actor Roman Lupine, known locally for his role as Mufasa in the community theater portrayal of The Lion King has found himself in a different kind of cast following the events of Friday night.” He recited.

“That’s not even funny.”

“I’m just thankful no one brought up my infiltration of the press.”

“You’re the dude who pretended to be a reporter to troll my dad?”

“I had to make sure they asked the right questions.” He defended. “And they didn’t. So, it’s a good thing I was there.”

“Yeah,” Virgil looked down. “Honestly, before you guys showed up the press thought the sun shined out of my dad’s butt.”

Roman couldn’t help but laugh at that image.

“Wow,” Roman coughed between laughs. “You are a word smith.”

“This movie another musical?” Virgil asked, stretching himself out.

“All the best ones are.” Roman declared.

Roman out the movie in and flopped himself down on the couch next to Virgil. The little one scooched away from him and curled up into a ball.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me.” Roman smiled at him. “I may be gay, but I’m only attracted to people old enough to consent.”

“Weirdly enough, I wasn’t worried about that.” Virgil said giving him a confused look. “I just haven’t bathed in a while, and I’m starting to smell.”

“That’s you? I just thought my deodorant gave out.”

“No, it’s me. I smell like death barfed up a bunch of old Band-Aids.”

“Remind me why we haven’t bathed you yet.”

“I can’t use my hands.” Virgil held up his gauzy paws. “Or get them wet or get my cast wet.”

“Let me think for a minute.” Roman put his hand to his chin. “I’m great at creative solutions.”

“Whatever you say, dude.”

# # #

Roman did come up with a solution. So, the two of them were now standing in Patton and Logan’s bathroom as that one had a walk-in shower with a grip bar installed inside. Roman unrolled a generous amount of plastic wrap.

“So, we can wrap up your cast and hands really good with this stuff.” Roman smiled. “And then I can duct tape a back scrubber to one of your hands. That way you can clean yourself.”

“I’m doing this more for entertainment than out of thinking this will work.” Virgil scoffed.

“My kind are never recognized for their genius.” He feigned hurt and placed a hand on his heart.

“Fine let’s do this.” Virgil sighed and held out his hands. “The smell is unbearable.”

“Now, I’ll help you get your shirt off.” Roman said as he bound Virgil’s hands. “But your pants are your responsibility. I’m not getting my name put on any lists.”

“You’re a saint.” Virgil said flatly.

“Thanks for noticing.” Roman stood up. “Now, I find duct tape.”

“Can’t you just put socks or something over my hands? It’d be easier.”

“Now I go to get a pair of socks!” Roman rephrased. “Stay right here.”

“Where would I go?”

Roman returned with the socks, applied them and left Virgil one of his robes. With that done he left the bathroom. No way was he getting his name put on any lists. He sat on Patton and Logan’s bed, tracing the blanket pattern with his finger. It was creepily quiet.

“Virgil,” Roman called. “Are you ok in there?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He yelled back.

“Ok. I’m right here if you need me?”

“What the hell could I possibly need you for in here?”

“I meant in case you fall. Weirdo.”

“You’re weird.”

Roman laughed to himself. This kid was terrible at name calling, at least in the moment. Roman softly sang to himself to break the silence. He looked around the love bird’s nest, they sure did like blue. He didn’t normally go into their bedroom if he could avoid it. Not that the room had anything wrong with it, it was the standard room with more plushies than would be expected scattered around. There was one desk, Logan’s, and it was home to many piles of books. As would be expected.

“Sup?” Roman nodded at the large stuffed dog laying on the foot of the bed.

“Roman?” A timid voice asked.

“You can talk?” Roman grabbed the plushie. “Wait, I’m an idiot. What is it Virgil?”

“Can you come in here?” Virgil sounded strained.

“Did you fall? I’ll be right in.”

Roman darted in and saw Virgil bunched up in one corner of the shower, covering himself with a towel. Thank god.

“What’s wrong?” Roman asked, stepping closer.

“There’s a bunch of weird spots on my skin.”

Roman looked down at his chest and saw that it was peppered tiny irritations that were rough to the touch.

“Ok.” Roman forced himself calm. “You come on out of there and put this on.” Roman held up the robe and looked away. “It’s probably just a reaction to the soap, or to not being able to shower for a while. You know, that kind of rash.”

“Ok.” He squeaked. “I know it wasn’t here yesterday, so you’re probably right.”

“Right. So, we’re just going to wash your clothes and see what happens.”

Roman sent Virgil to his room and immediately called Logan. Logan answered surprisingly fast, he must have really not wanted to be interviewed.

“Roman, is something wrong?” Logan answered, confused.

“Virgil has this weird bunch of spots on his body, I don’t think it’s chicken pox, but it looks like scarlet fever.”

“It probably is.” Logan said calmly. “That or he’s having a reaction to his antibiotics.”

“WHAT!!?” Roman screamed into the receiver. “He’s going to die?”

“Roman, scarlet fever is also known as strep throat rash.” Logan explained. “Both are caused by the same bacteria. I suspect he contracted it because his father didn’t take him to the doctor. Symptoms are the same as strep throat, and the first degree burns he suffered in the fire must have covered the rash.”

“What do I do? Do I have to burn things? Is he going to live?”

“He’ll be fine, just put some baby powder on the rash; we’ll take him to the doctor tomorrow to see if he needs his antibiotic dose increased or decreased based on what the rash is. Don’t burn anything, this isn’t the nineteenth century.”

“Should I tell him?”

“No, you’ll just freak him out.”

“All this time scarlet fever has just been strep throat?” Roman mumbled, floored by the revelation.

“Just wait until we tell you about what happened to measles.” Logan said blankly before hanging up.

# # #

“Just have a seat on the table and the doctor will be right with you.” The nurse said, holding the door for them.

Virgil lurked in quietly with Patton and Roman both in tow. He stopped to look at them both and saw that Logan had also gone ahead and come in. Somehow, he had amassed and entourage.

“I… Uh. Don’t think we all need to be here.” Virgil said, tugging on his sleeves.

“We need to know what you have.” Roman defended.

Virgil pulled himself onto the table and silently prayed that the doctor wouldn’t ask him to take his pants off. He was generally opposed to striping, but he was more against it now that he knew his audience wasn’t going anywhere.

“It’s ok.” Patton rubbed his shoulder.

“I’m not afraid.”

“Oh.” Patton said surprised, not taking his hand away. “That’s ok too. You shouldn’t be afraid. It’s going to be alright.”

“I regret telling them about strep throat rash.” Logan said to him. “I’m very sorry. I should have expected this kind of reaction.”

“What other reaction is supposed to come with the news that he has a potentially fatal illness?” Roman protested. “Joy? We aren’t Barbra.”

“The severity is dramatically decreased because of modern antibiotics.” Logan sighed. “Virgil’s not going to die from this. And it may not be strep throat rash, it could very well be a reaction to our detergent or his medicine.”

“If he’s allergic to antibiotics that’s still a problem.” Patton objected.

“How do you keep forgetting everything you learned in nursing school?” Logan sighed.

Virgil chewed on his bandages, longing for the day when he could get at his nails again. Roman had kept his mouth shut about the idea of scarlet fever pretty well, but when Patton got wind of it, he freaked out. First kid and all that. Logan had been good about using the modern name, but of course Patton googled it and found out what it was. Virgil hadn’t had a moment’s peace since.

Mercifully the doctor entered the room. Virgil knew this one, Dr. Talyn because they had been dealing him while he was still checked in. Nice to see a familiar face.

“Hi Virgil.” Talyn said, clearly happy to see him. “How have you been?”

“Recovering.” Virgil sighed. “How long do I need to have my hands wrapped again?”

“I’ll look at the burns while I’m here, but I guarantee you that you still need to have them wrapped for at least another week.”

“I know you.” Roman interrupted happily. “You’re the doctor who stood up to Payton that night.”

“And you’re crazy twin guy.” Talyn nodded. “I’m a friend of Joan’s.”

“You have one insane twin brother and that’s all anyone ever remembers about you.” Roman protested.

“So, Virgil has a rash that you two are worried about?” Talyn turned to Patton and Logan.

“I think it may be strep throat rash,” Logan explained calmly. “I just need to know what it is and if we need to adjust his antibiotics.”

“Scarlet fever can make people go deaf.” Patton interrupted. “Is that gonna happen?”

“No.” Talyn looked amused at Patton’s panic. “And it’s probably not strep rash, it seems weird that it would show up after we started treating the strep throat.” They turned on Virgil. “Can you pull your shirt up baby?”

Thinking he had a bright future as a stripper, Virgil pulled his shirt off. Life was hell. Talyn looked at the rash for a minute and went about the other standard doctor examinations.

“It’s not scarlet fever or a reaction to his meds.” They said finally. “It’s just a little stress rash.”

“Oh, poor baby.” Patton fussed, grabbing Virgil and hugging him.

The demonic voice in Virgil’s head screamed so loud that it blurred his vision.

# # #

“Oh, poor baby.” Patton pulled his nephew into his arms.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Roman sighed. “I thought he was done for.”

“For the last time, he wasn’t going to die.” Logan added tiredly.

“If you want, I can prescribe a topical cream for the hives,” Talyn continued. “But aside from that I can’t really do much. They’re just gonna have to go away on their own.”

Patton brushed Virgil’s hair out of his face and paused. Virgil was being oddly still. He loosened his grip and Virgil fell limp onto him.

“Guys! I think he fainted!” Patton yelled in abstract terror.

Dr. Talyn took over and shooed him away. They laid Virgil down on the table, took his pulse and checked his pupils. After that they put a cold cloth on his head.

“Doctor,” Patton asked softly. “Did we do something wrong? His anxiety is getting really bad around us. Did we do the wrong thing?”

“No, I don’t think this is anyone’s fault.” Talyn checked Virgil’s pules again. “I think he’s just having a harder time adjusting then we thought he would. All we can really do is give it time.”

“We already made him a follow up appointment with Dr. Picani.” Logan added guiltily. “I didn’t think we were causing him that much stress.”

“You don’t need to be in a stressful environment to have anxiety.” Talyn explained. “And he may have PTSD after everything his dad did to him. And he’s only like five days into this transition. That’s not even enough time to get used to a school week.”

“It’s not right.” Patton brushed his hand through Virgil’s hair. “He’s just a little kid.”

Virgil murmured a bit the bolted upright.

“No! Get away from me! Don’t touch me!” He yelped. He stopped and looked around then sighed. “Sorry Uncle Patton, I-I thought you were someone else.”

Who? I wonder. The words burned themselves into Patton’s brain.

“It’s ok sweetie.” Patton hugged him. “It’s ok.”

“What happened?” Virgil pulled himself away.

“You passed out a minute ago.” Logan explained. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” He crossed his arms and looked at the floor.

Talyn cleared their throat.

“Do you three mind if I talk to Virgil alone?” They asked.

“No.” Patton sighed. “Go ahead.”

# # #

Virgil watched the other three leave and whished that he was going with them. Dr. Talyn closed the door behind them and the room suddenly seemed oppressively tiny.

“I have to ask.” Talyn sighed. “Are they treating you ok?”

“Yes.” He looked down from the ceiling that he swore he could reach up and touch. “And not just the bare minimum of not beating me into a coma. They’re all being really nice.”

“Have they done anything that wasn’t physical? Any insults? Anything like that?”

“No. None of that stuff. It’s like some kind of alternate reality.”

“Are you happy there?”

“Yes. I wanna stay…” He dropped the sentence and stared at the floor.

You can’t though, it’s not gonna happen. You can’t stay. He’s not going to let you. He’s going to ruin this for you if you don’t ruin it first.

“Ok then.” Talyn finished. “You understand why I had to ask you that right?”

“Honestly, I have been asked that more in the past couple of days than I have in my entire life.” He sighed. “Yeah, I understand why you asked. I don’t understand why no one else ever did.”

“Neither do I.” That wasn’t the answer he was expecting. “I’ll check out your hands, then you can go.”

Talyn checked his hands over and rebandaged them so that they looked like mittens. They padded the thumbs loosely so he could use them and kept the rest of his hands covered. He looked down at his appendages and saw that three of his fingernails had come off. He gagged and looked away.

“I know,” Talyn soothed. “It’s creepy.”

They finished with him and sent him on his way. He lurked out into the other room and joined the others. Patton immediately hugged him. He sighed and slumped into the hug.

I don’t want to go. I want to stay with you.

“It’s ok sweetie.” Patton pacified.

“It’s just going to take some time.” Logan rubbed his back.

# # #

“Ok, we’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Patton said chipperly on his way out the door. “Are you two gonna be okay?”

“I already watched him last night.” Roman sighed. “I can do it again.”

“I don’t even really need a babysitter.” Virgil added. “Dad used to leave me on my own all the time.”

Don’t blow up, it’s ok. We’re literally on our way to see the lawyer. Patton bit his lip.

“Well, you’re still sick.” Patton smiled. “So, you ought to have a grown up to look after you.”

“And you’re in an unfamiliar environment.” Logan added.

“I’m not a cat.”

“We’ll be fine.” Roman shooed them. “Don’t be late to your meeting. We still have as entire anthology to watch.”

“Ok, but nothing that can, you know…” Patton mimed pulling a trigger on a gun.

“I won’t.” Roman rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid.”

“It’s going to be alright Patton.” Logan squeezed his shoulder. “You don’t have to worry.”

“Ok.” Patton grabbed Logan’s hand. “We’ll be back in a few hours, or less depending on what happens.”

“Take all the time you need.” Roman was almost pushing them.

Patton looked over and saw Virgil staring at him curiously from the couch. He knew something was going on, kids can always tell. Patton guiltily avoided his gaze, there was no need to bring him into this and stress him out even more.

And I definitely don’t want to get his hopes up and disappoint him. A thought preyed on him.

No, that’s going to happen. This is gonna work out. We’re gonna be ok.

You couldn’t save him before, what makes now different?

You shut up!

You can’t save him. You already let him endure this for thirteen years.

Stop it!

Payton isn’t just going to roll over! You can’t just smile and hope your problems go away!

“Ok,” Patton forced a smile and took another step out the door. “I love you. We’ll be back in a bit.”

Patton and Logan walked to the car in silence. Patton stared out his window and caught a glimpse of Virgil looking out one of the front windows at them, trying not to be seen himself. Poor little anxious baby. Patton looked at his feet. He wanted nothing more than to hold Virgil and tell him everything was going to be ok, and just keep holding him until they were.

“Logan,” Patton sighed as they drove into the street. “Do we have a chance?”

“A chance of what?” Logan glanced at him.

“Winning custody.”

“We do, in fact I’m optimistic in spite of myself.”

�� “Are you sure, Payton’s gonna fight us on this.”

“Payton has been digging his metaphorical grave for years, and it is now too deep for him to get out. The evidence is in our favor.”

“Are you sure?” Patton rubbed his arms, feeling a sudden cold engulf him.

“Yes, and if you’re worried that he’s going to lie his way out of this… well I don’t think his silver tongue is going to help him here.”

“I feel kind of like I’m kicking him while he’s down.”

“This isn’t about Payton’s feelings. Provided that he can feel. This is about what’s best for Virgil.”

“Payton’s not gonna like this.”

“I don’t care.”

“Maybe he’s gonna say we shouldn’t be parents because we’re a same sex couple.” Patton said worriedly.

“He was running for mayor as a gay man who had suffered abuse for it.” Logan said blankly. “No one is going to want to hear that.”

“What if he says we beat Virgil up to make false evidence?”

“We can disprove that.”

“I read that judges don’t like to break up families, like take kids away from their parents.”

“With the exception of that parent being a violent sociopath, who may have tried to murder them.” Logan added, grabbing Patton’s hand. “Sound like anyone we know?”

“I’m just worried.”

“I know, I’m worried too.” Logan held his hand tighter. “But I’m not going to let it consume me or make me lose sight of reality.”

“I love you.” Patton said quietly.

“I love you too.” Logan smiled. “After all, I am having your baby.”

“When can we start introducing him as our son?” Patton perked up a little.

“As soon as custody is granted. And remember not to overwhelm him.”

# # #

“Ok,” Their new lawyer said after they finished their story. “It definitely sounds like you have a case.”

Their lawyer was remarkable short and built entirely of muscle. Outside of that he was scary. Completely pale with light blond hair that he covered up with a black derby hat. He looked like he had albinism along with a massive scar that covered the left side of his face, leaving him a dead eye and a slightly dented lower jaw. The scar pattern looked like a waffle iron. Patton pondered how the poor man got it.

The lawyer had a name plate that read “E. S. Pent”. No first name.

“So, what we need to do.” E. S. said. “Is organize what we have now, police reports, medical records and testimonies. You said Virgil is going to be seeing a psychiatrist?”

“Yes,” Logan answered. “Dr. Emile Picani.”

“Ok, we should be able to get him as a witness. He’s done all this before.” E.S. sighed. His job probably sucked.

“Is Virgil gonna have to testify?” Patton bit his lip. “I don’t wanna expose him to all this.”

“If he wants to, more power to him. But if not I’m pretty sure people will understand.”

“Is there anything we need to be prepared for if he tries to counter us?” Logan asked.

“Well, Patton already passed his background check.” E. S. looked through the papers. “I recommend you and your friend, Roman, both get one as well.”

Logan looked around tensely and Patton instinctively grabbed his hand.

“I, I have Asperger’s.” Logan sighed. “Is that going to cause any problems?”

“No, I don’t think so.” E. S. smiled reassuringly. “Provided that it doesn’t make you violent or suicidal.”

“No, all it really does is make me weird.”

Patton mouthed out the words ‘I will fight you’ at Logan. Nobody talks about his husband that way.

“Is it a problem that we’re gay?” Patton tilted his head.

“It shouldn’t be.”

“So, this is it?” Patton squeezed Logan’s hand.

“Well you need to serve Payton papers, and set a court date. I’ll help you with the papers. And if you don’t want to face him, you can have a police officer, or a lawyer serve the papers for you. And I knew Payton in law school, he’s a prick. So, if you’d like, I would love to serve him the papers.”

“I’ll give them to him myself.” Patton looked at the table. “I want to talk to him.”

“Are you sure?”

“He’s my brother, I can’t just turn my back on him. And if I’m going to do this, I’m not going to do it from behind someone.”

“Alright.”

# # #

It was past nine when they got home. Roman was on the couch contentedly watching the credits of Aristocats while Virgil dozed on his shoulder.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re home.” Roman teased in an air of mock desperation. “It was so troublesome to look after a sick teenager. We had to watch movies and then he fell asleep. The horror.”

“Very funny.” Logan whispered, feeling Virgil’s forehead. “Last night you called me in a panic thinking he had scarlet fever.”

“Which you confirmed.” Roman whisper yelled.

“No, no. get away.” Virgil mumbled in his sleep.

“Shh,” Roman purred. “it’s ok. It’s ok. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Patton leaned in and pet Virgil’s hair. Poor little anxious baby!

“Has he been talking in his sleep a lot?” He whispered.

“On and off.” Roman looked down at him. “Mostly saying the same things. ‘get away’ ‘stop’ and ‘I wanna stay here’.”

“You can stay with us baby.” Patton continued stroking his head. “We’re not gonna send you away.”

“No,” Logan smiled. “You’re here for good.”

Roman covered the sleeping boy’s ears.

“How did it go with the lawyer?” He asked.

“I’m serving Payton the papers on Friday.” Patton looked down.

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

Author’s note, Deceit’s color was similar to the albino Burmese python, so I made his human alternate an albino. Also a went with a scar instead of scales. Ethan will talk about being trans in a later chapter.

#Sanders sides fic #pattonsanders #logansanders #romansanders #virgilsanders #sympathiticdeceit #transdeceit #parentalmoxiety #parenatlanological #platoniclamp #logicality #famILY

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kyukun · 5 years

Text

Kokichi Ouma: Shirt thief (OumaSai)

thanks for the request anon! i decided to do number 26 so i hope you enjoy

prompt list

prompt: 26 -“No, like…its just, i can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”

title: Kokichi Ouma: Shirt thief

summary: Kokichi is left home alone while Shuichi is at work. He finds out that he’d miss the detective a lot more than he would have thought.

word count: 1704

~~ prompt starts after cut! ~~

Kokichi sighed to himself, throwing his small body across the queen sized mattress. His violet eyes stared at the empty ceiling above him, a mixture of boredom and contempt taking over him. You see, Kokichi was the type of person to love exciting things. He absolutely loved when things gave him adrenaline or made him think. He considered himself quite the thinker, and a thinker like himself needed lots of intellectual stimulation.

Thusly, why he was in fact, dying of absolute boredom. He had no entertainment. Usually, he’d bug his boyfriend in order to keep himself busy but there was an issue with that. His boyfriend was at work. Ah yes, his lovely detective boyfriend Shuichi Saihara, was at work. The seemingly long and aggravating days he went to work were often too much for Kokichi who often grew rather lonely without someone to incessantly tease with his love and affection. Sure, he could text one of his mutual friends to bother but they weren’t as fun as Shuichi was.

Now here he was, laying with his back to the mattress, dull eyes glaring at the ceiling desperately trying to find something to do. Kokichi let out another long sigh, his eyes closing briefly into a crescent like shape. He decided he’d just think for a bit since he had nothing better to do. With his arms and legs spread like a starfish on a rock, he reopened his eyes as they drifted towards a picture frame beside their bed. A warm smile crossed his lips as memories flooded his mind back to when they had taken that photo. The photo was of Shuichi and Kokichi on their first date. Shuichi had his arm awkwardly wrapped around Kokichi’s waist while the shorter male had a grin on his face, holding up two peace signs.

He thought back to their first date at the carnival and how cute Shuichi was. That day, Shuichi was beyond flustered with pretty much the simplest of gestures. Kokichi remembered when he and Shuichi had shared their first kiss there and how shocked and embarrassed he was. They shared their kiss at the ferris wheel, which was probably the most memorable thing out of the entire date. Kokichi had convinced him to join him on the ferris wheel as a last ride of the trip sort of thing to help calm things over. They chatted and talked about how much they really enjoyed one another’s company, which was really domestic and sweet. Kokichi never had intended to kiss Shuichi on the first date, or at the top of the ferris wheel but these things happen naturally. They weren’t things you could really plan.

Once they both had reached the top, Kokichi could still, even know, remember how beautiful he looked when his eyes flickered down towards the fairgrounds. His eyes shone so brightly, brighter than he’s ever seen them. His face glowed with the fluorescent lights beneath them, hitting his face so well. And in the heat of the moment, without even thinking, he leaned over to Shuichi and placed a longing kiss on his lips. Shuichi was practically frozen while they remained at the top, even having Kokichi shake him a bit after they kissed. Afterwards, Shuichi had asked him several times to pinch him to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Kokichi knew then and there that Shuichi was the only one for him.

The picture had such huge significance to them both. As for who had taken the picture, Kokichi wanted to have something to commemorate their success of a date and asked a random person to take the picture. Thankfully, the stranger was nice and did so without further questions or comments. A wave of heat flushed through his cheeks as he recalled the memory. Great, now he actually missed Shuichi. Though, today wouldn’t have been exactly the first time. As much as he liked the fact that he found a career he really enjoys doing, he couldn’t help but feel sad knowing that now he doesn’t get to spend as much time with him as he would’ve liked. Kokichi sat up with his arms folded over his thighs.

He shifted his gaze towards their closet, scanning over the closed doors from across the room. With a nervous bite of his lip, he jumped down from the bed and made his way across the room towards the closet.

His slender fingers pulled apart Shuichi’s side of the closet. They soon had made their way to touch the fabrics, gently grazing over each item. Shuichi’s wardrobe mostly consisted of formal wear and not many casual clothes. Kokichi has endlessly bugged him on and on about buying more casual wear but to no avail. He’s constantly stated how good he looked in just a pair of jeans and a regular graphic tee but he gets the same answer every time.

“No.”

Every. Time.

But, even though Kokichi is well aware of this, he does know that he owns a few band t-shirts. For what reason? He had no clue. All he knew was that Shuichi wore one to bed last night while he clumsily tucked himself into bed. The poor boy had to stay up for work related business a few extra hours and didn’t go to bed until around three. He figured Shuichi thought he was asleep and not wide awake since he still had said band t-shirt on when felt him climb into bed beside him. Regardless of that, he moved his hand down towards the hamper just beneath Shuichi’s clothes. He reached down, scouring through a few dirty clothes until finding the item he had been searching for.

He brought the shirt to his face, giving it a good inhale before moving it away from his nose. It smelled so good. It smelled like Shuichi. It smelled like home. Kokichi gently placed the shirt at the side of the hamper as he took off his own shirt. His pale and fragile body grew cold without the warmth of his shirt. He threw his own clothing into the hamper, replacing it with a slightly oversized shirt. The shirt was a black color (as expected,) and had a skeleton with what seemed like a marching band hat on top of it. The bottom had grungy text and what seemed to be the band’s name in the same font.

“My Chemical Romance.”

My Chemical Romance? What and who was that? He didn’t know. All he cared about was the fact that it was Shuichi’s. His tiny fingers gripped the fabric tightly, his fingers almost turning red in color from the intense grip he had. His eyes stung lightly as tears made their way towards his eyes. He shook his head. No, he shouldn’t be feeling this way. He should be thrilled Shuichi finally has a career he loves and looks forward to. Despite all of that, his chest hurt. It hurt. He fucking missed Shuichi so much. Even though he was only gone for a few hours, those hours felt like days. He hated that he was being clingy but a part of him was worried that he would overwork himself and grow ill or worse, they split up due to him being too invested into his work.

Being too busy over-thinking, Kokichi hadn’t noticed the door to their bedroom door open. It was until he heard a gentle knock on the door where he had came back to the surface. Kokichi’s head snapped towards the sound, it took a minute to realize who it was and what he wearing before he completely turned into a blushing mess. He didn’t expect him to come home so early. Shuichi blinked in slight confusion as he scampered off towards their bed, covering himself with the sheets. “W-what are you doing here so early?! I thought you were coming at nine!"

"Mr. Tanaka let me out early… I’m sorry, am I missing something? Why do you look so shocked that I’m here?”

Shuichi inched closer, causing Kokichi to sink himself further into the corner. “I-I’m not! It’s just so out of the blue and-!”

“Why are you hiding? You’re usually hugging me the minute I come home. Are you feeling okay?” This was bad. The detective, who was now sitting on the bed, moved his hands closer to Kokichi. He gently removed the blanket which sheltered Kokichi, not saying anything before realizing what he was hiding. Kokichi crossed his arms, giving an embarrassed huff as he avoided eye contact with the detective. “Great. Now you caught me, go ahead, make fun of me.”

“Kokichi I… Are you… wearing my clothes?”

“Y-yeah. So what? Look, I was just making sure they were still wearable and comfy. I swear I had no other intentions, that was all I was doing. There, now you know the truth so don’t get angry.” Shuichi’s eyes softened at the sight in front of him. The tiny male was cornered but all he could resort to was lie. His arms crossed over his chest and his head was hung low, staring down at the ruffled sheets below him. “No, like… it’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.” He let out a low giggle, which seemed to push Kokichi’s embarrassment further. Kokichi could feel his heart about ready to explode. Even though he knew Shuichi would never blackmail him, he knew that he’d hold this above his head for a while and constantly remind him.

"I’m not… It wasn’t because I missed you or anything, it’s like I told you. I was just checking to make sure Shumai’s clothes were comfortable.”

“And are they?” Shuichi pulled the liar closer, embracing the body in his arms tightly. Kokichi could still feel the heat on his cheeks as he buried his face inside of Shuichi’s chest, unable to look at him in the eyes. “They are. But Saihara-chan is more comfortable.” Kokichi smiled warmly, wrapping his hands around his waist. He could deny it all he wanted, but what he couldn't deny was the warmth Shuichi gave him. It was only then did he realize that this warmth was made only for him, and nothing would take that away.

#oumasai #kokichi ouma #shuichi saihara #kyus post #drv3 #hello i hope you like it anon!!#sorry this took forever oop #i got sidetracked with other projects #im going to tag prompt lists now bc holy shit #you can always request again if youre not satisfied with this!#<33

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the-real-anywolf · 4 years

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Destiel Advent Calendar 2019

Title: Welcome to the Black Parade

Tags: Dean Winchester/Castiel, Destiel, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Rufus Turner, Bobby Singer, Angst, Forgiveness is the Name of the Game, Explicit Sexual Content, Inspired by Song Lyrics, Happy Hanukkah

Summary: Dean Winchester has walked hand-in-hand with death his entire life. When it's time to lay his weary head to rest, will he finally find peace?

Written by: @eyesofatragedy67 (Eyes_of_a_Tragedy)

Notes: Somewhere in the process of this advent calendar, Frankie said, "Can day 22 be Hanukkah related?" and we all went, "Yeah! That's a great idea!" And then day 22 sat with a note… Hannukah… for what felt like forever. There was a group chat conversation about the fact that none of us are Jewish and really don't know much about the holiday. But I snagged it anyway.

This fic is not a Hanukkah story, and honestly is the merest of nods, but I do think it's important to acknowledge it. For those of you who do follow the beliefs, I wish you the happiest of Hanukkahs! Please don't kill me.

This story is inspired by the lyrics of "Welcome to the Black Parade" by My Chemical Romance. It's a song about death and how it affects those left behind. But it's also full of power and life. It holds strong personal meaning for me, and screams Dean Winchester in my head.

I hope you enjoy!

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21890575

Day 22: Welcome to the Black Parade

The sky was a bruise of grey and green, and that sickly yellow you only saw on damaged skin. Dean Winchester was parked at Rufus's cabin, crashed out on the hood of his trusty sidekick, legs dangling in front of her grill, waiting for the floodgates to open.

He needed the rain on his face, the water pelting his skin, cleansing him, absolving him of the guilt he carried. He needed the mask of it. To hide his tears.

It had been years since he'd felt this loss, years since he'd grieved the son of a bitch who'd moulded him into the soldier he still was, to this day. But the years had been long, and so much had happened. And if Dean was being completely honest with himself – hell, with anyone – he'd admit that the man who had appeared in the bunker wasn't as much of a monster as he'd made him out to be in his mind.

Fuck knew John Winchester hadn't been a perfect father. And Dean was well aware of the fact that he carried some serious baggage, due to the years of abandonment and neglect, while his dad had kicked around – saving people, hunting things.

The family business created a rift between the Winchesters that leaked like a sieve.

But Dean and Sam had come through okay. They were strong together, had done good in the world. Until Chuck came and fucked it all to hell.

Talk about some A+ parenting.

As the skies rained down on him, Dean let go. He let himself mourn the loss, again, of the man who had shaped his life. Thought back to the times that weren't awful, though some would argue they were few and far between.

He railed against the wind, lungs burning molten rage; then his throat locked up, nothing but stilted exhales escaping.

Eyes still closed, he felt a soothing presence close in. Hands gripped the outsides of his knees, hips moving between them. Dean threw his arm over his face and gulped in a ragged breath.

"Hello, Dean." That rumble of comfort was everything he needed.

Dean pushed himself up and wrapped himself around his angel, burying his face into Cas's neck, where he smelled like honey-sweet lightning.

"You're going to get sick if you stay out here much longer, my love," Cas whispered into the freckles dotting Dean's cheekbone.

Fuck, what had he done to deserve this man? He had no idea why Cas always came back to him, but he was done fighting it. Done getting in the way of what they both wanted. He'd be damned if Cas's name got added to the list of Dean Winchester's Greatest Misses.

He looked into the storm of Cas's eyes. "I love you. I love you with all of the words I've never said, for all of the years you've stood by me, all of the shit you've put up with…" Blue lit up his sky. "Cas, I'm ready."

The honey melted away, leaving ozone and fire in its wake. Cas tugged his hips closer, hauling him off Baby's hood. Dean wrapped his legs tighter around Cas's waist, relinquishing some of the weight, as Cas carried him into the cabin.

They made it as far as the fireplace before Dean tugged Cas down into a desperate kiss, nipping at his lips. Sunshine burst on his tongue, all warmth and fresh green growth after the rain.

Hands tore at his clothing, drenched t-shirt plopping to the ground, soaked denim falling to his feet. And then his angel was kneeling before him, unlacing his sturdy leather boots and peeling off his socks so he could step out of his jeans.

Cas was his savior, divinity defined.

Dean carded his fingers through that thick, dark hair and stroked his thumb over the shell of Cas's ear, looking down at the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"Cas…" he whispered, shivers racing down his spine.

And Cas – the beautiful, crazy genius – ran his hands up Dean's exposed skin, over the cotton that was his last barrier, and stripped him bare.

Blade-calloused fingertips caressed his hips, teased over his soft midriff, perfectly chapped lips following their path. A flick of tongue over the tip of his cock almost brought Dean to his knees.

And then it was all wet heat surrounding him, the gentle brush of stubble against sensitive skin, and Dean fumbled to hold on.

One hand tangled in his lover's hair, he reached the other out, grasping for purchase and something to ground him. The heavy thunk of an object hitting the floor only briefly distracted him.

"Oh, Cas," Dean moaned, living in the feel of his angel's mouth on him, full of worship.

Teeth lightly grazed their way up his shaft, and Cas pulled off, leaning back with glazed-over eyes. Dean wiped at the moisture at the corner of his mouth, then brushed his thumb over the angel's lower lip.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Sunshine." And the light that shone behind those stormcloud eyes was more radiant than the stars.

"Dean." Cas looked up at him with wonder, then surged up to plunder his mouth. They kissed with all of the passion they'd repressed for so long.

And Dean groaned as Cas gripped him tight and jacked him like they didn't have until the end of time to finally love each other true.

***

"For cryin' out loud, Bobby. It's not that I'm not happy for the two of them. I mean, it's about damn time that fool of a son of yours got his head out of his… but that's my fireplace they're defiling! And my menorah on the floor! You'd think they could show a little respect."

Bobby pointedly did not glance in the direction of Rufus's living room, did not need to see his boys finally taking that bull-headed last step.

"Let them be, ya’ idjit. They've given everything for this moment. And, yeah, I don't want to see Dean's naked ass, or what the angel's packin' either. But this is their place now, and we're the intruders."

Rufus reached for his bottle of Johnny. "Do you think he knows?"

Pushing an empty glass over to his friend, Bobby nodded. "He knows. He's finally letting himself have the life, the love he's always turned away from. Maybe it's not orthodox, but this is his heaven. And he's finally free."

He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, fighting back the grief for the sacrifice his boys made. If they could carry on, grab their peace by the throat and run with it… well, they'd goddamn earned every minute.

Bobby picked up the glass, now two fingers full of amber liquid, and raised it in a toast. "Happy Hanukkah, you damn drama queen."

Rufus clinked his glass to Bobby's and replied, "Merry Christmas, you old coot."

Their grins turned to grimaces as loud thumping started from the other room.

Your memory will carry on...

End Notes: I wanted to play with the idea of fathers. Some of you might not be thrilled with my portrayal of John here, but this is coming from a place of serious contemplation for Dean. And I liked the idea of him shedding the darkness and hurt he's carried for so long, that in his personal heaven, he's free of that burden and can finally fly unafraid.

I love the idea that he's open to love, in all of its myriad forms. Because without John Winchester, who knows if Dean would have had Bobby Singer as his surrogate father, Rufus as his crazy uncle, Cas as his guardian angel?

I wish you all a wonderful holiday season, and truly hope 2020 brings you amazing things!

#destiel advent calendar 2019 #fanfiction #destiel #christmas short fics

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