#ᴀ. answered.

[cxncrie-a]

@hellshoard asked: The doe wasn't new to Heaven. She knew the ins and out of it. She knew who everyone was. So when she ran into Adam, of all angels, she's quick on her feet to back away. Pink fluffy wings fluttered for a moment, tucking against her for tightly, "Quite sorry, good fellow! Seems that my head was up in the clouds today."

Unprompted Asks || Always Accepting.

" Fuck bitch what the fuck. "

   It unfortunately caught him off guard to the point his grip on his cup loosened enough for him to drop it. Well, so much for finishing that drink, and now he's going to have to go get another one. Feathers fluffing up briefly in anger, he mumbles something under his breath before turning to look at Allurina. 

" No shit bitch, you just made me drop my drink. " Classy. " Fuck's your problem anyway, tits? You always got your head up in the clouds that you can't pay attention to where the fuck you're going or some shit? "

[blitzbuckz]

𖤐 Wormy Thingie

[ashenwinds]

     sailor @fortheonetrueking sent a message in a bottle. . .

"Chi, cut the shit, I know you've stolen from my stash of sweets. Give it back already, you don't even eat it." (From Horatio)

           ↪ unprompted skellie ask

     A chuckle rumbles out from the Warden, a rare moment where they are outside the depths of the Reaper's Lair -- the prison still in progress deep below. Something impossible to tell as they keep their voice even, “ What ever are you ranting on about, old man? ”

     How dare he accuse them of doing such a thing! Even if it miight have been them, “ I've been down in the prison for the last few days. I could have never taken whatever you're going on about. ” They would never use their guards for such a task either -- those brainless bones would only be used to hide the goods.

[atlas-ordained]

[M!A] Was it a virus? A corrupted data packet triggering a glitch? A public software update / upgrade that'd been maliciously coded with petro-rabbit protocols? You've already heard about it across the datanet that something is spreading through the community; something that is causing your colleagues, your brethren, and even your enemies to become… vigorously amorous.

You think that you got your firewalls up in time, but… what is this warmth building in your seams?

[Heat Cycle M!A] [To satisfy the coding, you must seek out the one your spark sings to; you know who it is.]

He notices the foreign code the moment arrives, and ah—it is a nasty piece of work. The base structure does not even seem to be Cybertronian, nor any system he is familiar with, but it is highly sophisticated, shifting as if with some kind of illusory power.

Digits scrape the keyboard. He disconnects his cables as quickly as he is able, but already something itches at the back of his processor. He turns his focus towards it. He still cannot even begin to find its edges, but a message presents itself....

Ah. This is what has been spreading across the multiverse, and certainly the grayfaces are behind it.

....

His spark certainly sings for Ratchet. That phrasing inspires a warmth in his spark entirely separate from that which is beginning to creep through his frame. But, ah, he hopes it will not be too much an inconvenience to his bonded. From what he has heard over the multiverse, one session is rarely sufficient...

[burning-fcols]

Husker was near clawing down the walls of the hotel, the sudden ban on booze driving him out of his fur in the worst torment possible. Pacing about the lobby, his bar now empty (which he swore was meant to mock him, seeing as Alastor very well could have just gotten rid of it all together instead of clearing it out), his paws were beginning to hurt in a near manic need to move. "This is fucking bullshit, I'm losing my fucking mind over here!" Turning to Angel, Husk's arms moved about in tandem with his words, hoping knowing that the spider would be one of the only ones there that might understand what he was going through. "My fur's fucking crawling, a-and I can't stop fucking shaking!" Sure enough, there was a constant tremor to his body, a feather breaking loose from his vibrating wings every so often to flutter about the floor where it would soon be kicked up by his pacing. "I can't fucking think! Everything just feels, fuck I dunno, warm? No, fucking burning all over, a-and tingly. Even when I was alive, it never felt like this when I was dry..." - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @ʜᴇʟʟꜱ-ꜰᴠʀʏ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 This has to be one of the STUPIDEST ideas yet... and that's including the whole premise for the hotel. Angel can understand the logic behind wanting a squeaky-clean persona for the place. It's sort of hard to preach ❛ redemption ❜ and freedom from vices when actively PROVIDING one right in the main lobby. Yet it hardly matters how well they practice what they preach if no one is around to learn. Angel knows that he's just there to fill a bedroom, ❛ progress ❜ or not. It's a pipe-dream with him, and it's not even his unattainable fantasy. Dreaming of angel wings sprouting from his back and a glowing halo hovering above his head is Charlie's schtick. Pentious is no better, the snake starved for praise not piety.

No, he can't imagine it working for either of them... Or anyone else, if he's being honest. But especially not the patrons they currently have. Lack of liquor isn't going to have people breaking down the doors to get in. It's also not going to stop Angel from indulging in his desires elsewhere, dangerous a decision as that may be. It's a shame, really... He had been enjoying having a place he could grab a drink without wondering when it was going to be spiked. Bartender is pretty cute too.

Speaking of which...

Sitting on a stool by the booze-less bar, he watches Husk practically wear a hole in the floor with his pacing. Gaze follows a feather's sad descent as it shakes lose from a trembling wing. Brows knit and a concerned bite to his bottom lip, Angel's fingers drum on his crossed arms as he mulls over the most delicate way to clarify the others... situation. It's painfully apparent that Husk has no clue what's going on. An affliction that Angel's enhanced senses had pegged as soon as he got near the fidgeting feline. It was overwhelming, the fog of pheromones surrounding the poor guy. Were it when Angel only recently arrived in Hell, he'd have gotten dizzy from how thick the air became... Thankfully, he has a better hold of himself now.

Practice makes perfect, he guesses. That and overexposure to the stuff thanks to a certain aphrodisiac-addled moth. ❝ I, uh... I got a pretty good idea why that is. But you ain't gonna like it, Whiskers. ❞ Angel begins when Husk has finished spewing his shaky woes. One leg crossed over the other, he bounces his knee in a small fidget. ❝ When you were alive, I'm guessin' you weren't exactly... a cat. ❞ A finger lightly motions at Husk with the statement. ❝ An' bein' THIS comes wit' a few— eh, let's call 'em complications. ❞ Normally he'd jokingly refer to it as a ❛ perk ❜ , but now isn't the time. Not with Husk.

Standing up from his seat, Angel then rips off the bandage with a blunt, ❝ Sorry tomcat, yer in heat. ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[strtravels]

@leschanceux [GORDY] SAID: “It was my fault. It was all my fault.”

“It’s NOT your fault, Gordy.” Hands placed on his son’s shoulders; trying to calm him down, while he felt anything but calm, too. Inside of him was a storm of feeling, he couldn’t let out because – it wouldn’t change anything, would it? Screaming would only upset Moira and Gordy. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t force Kate to come back to him, because… EVELYN. It was only her fault. Her showing up and demanding to be a family again, had brought nothing but chaos from the moment she had showed up on the doorstep. And the chaos never seemed to end. Gordy had been so upset that night and now…

He sighed and shook his head again, determined to make his son understand that it was NOT his fault that Kate had left. It wasn’t because he had been sceptical about it all and acted as though he was too grown up to need a mother. No. In fact, Gordy had tried! He had tried for his sister and for father and – he couldn’t have expected more. It also wasn’t as though Kate hadn’t understood him and hadn’t tried. But hearing that Evelyn was back and saying she wanted to be a family again, had apparently convinced her, she was in the way of everyone’s happiness.

His head hurt, and the day had already been too long, but he couldn’t send Gordy to bed now, when he was clearly so upset, that he had come to his father’s bedroom at this time of night, just to find his father sitting at the edge of his bed, unsure what to do with himself as he stared onto his phone, which was now abandoned on the bedside table again – no call made to try and reach Kate, and no message send to her yet, either. Yet. Should he change it? Would he just make it worse?

Moving a little, he gestured for Gordy to sit down next to him; a hand still on his shoulder. “ – you’ve done nothing wrong. Did you dream ‘bout it, or did you just lay awake, convincing yourself it’s your fault?” Words uttered softly, while he raised his hand to his son’s cheek. “ – sometimes I wish you and I weren’t so similar...”

[nebula-drcams]

@troublcmakcrs asked: 🍂 take a walk in the woods to look at the leaves (tweek & nimue)

𝐂𝐎𝐙𝐘 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐌𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 || Accepting for Autumn

   She wasn't really sure if he'd take the invitation to go for a walk, let alone in the woods, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise when he did. For all the grief she gives this town for being as shit as it is, one thing she'll give it is that the woods were often peaceful, and mixed with Autumn being here and the leaves starting to turn and fall, it was even better. 

   While she wasn't sure about his coffee preference, she opted to get hot chocolate instead, handing him the cup once he arrived. 

" Figured I'd bring you one too. Good weather for it. Hot chocolate I mean. Would've brought you some pumpkin spice but I didn't really know if you liked that or not. "

   There's still some things she has to learn about Tweek, but it's one step at a time of course. It probably wouldn't have been so much if she had tried to befriend him while they were still in school.

" Sorry for suddenly asking you to join me by the way, Fall's my favorite time of the year, never really figured out why, but the leaves are rather pretty to look at. "

[xx--ofmanythoughts--xx]

I do think you're an elitist when it comes to Aemond. You seem to think of him in one way, and everyone else is wrong. I think you want to gate-keep him, and it's annoying how you always have opinions about him and no one else. Constantly saying you'll write him how he is in the book.

You act like that character can't have any layers other than crazy.

Oh yes, I was hoping I'd get one of these.

Aemond does have layers but his layers are not onion layers. Aemond was bullied and berated as a child...which turned him into a bully, himself; in a sense. He was not shown love by his mother or anyone else for that matter because even his own brother was one of the bullies towards him. Aemond was sent to a place that was dark and something that grew into what he is now. I LOVE the book Aemond because that darkness is what makes him this complex character later on until he believes his own arrogance and that youth is on his side. It is what makes him chaotic. And I hope the show does him the same way

I have written him where he is in love with someone but he does not do pet names or anything like that because that is not him and because he has his own issues. May not be mommy issues but he has a need for that one person or thing to give him the validation no one else did...and that was Vhagar.

Now, I do write with other people who write Aemond with his layers and I enjoy that but for me, I love the dark Aemond. I will write him as the book has him, with my own headcanons based on whatg I know medically about the injury of the cut and the missing eye.

Gate-keeping him? That is funny. I do not gate-keep him and I do have opinions about the others...Daemon, Aegon, Nyra and all Targaryens; I have opinions and I have posted things about them. But the book to me is canon and I do use my own headcanons for MANY of the characters because the writers of the show; I do not agree with.

..and besides no one has written with me in a year or so as Aemond because I began writing him back when Fire and Blood first was released...so I can change if a plot is a good one...

[canon-fcdder]

A whisper like voice is calling out to Dipper out of nowhere. "Pinetree~" As if trying to get his attention. Luring him at best. "Pinetree~" It goes on like this a few more times until it realizes they're being ignored. "Oh, come on! Don't be like that, Pinetree! Where's your sense of adventure? The thrill of the hunt?" ( dhehkedjfle; -throws Bill over- ) - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @deceitfulmorals 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 In hindsight, Dipper should have taken someone with him when investigating the strange occurrences regarding the woodlands surrounding the Mystery Shack. Of course, he would have to tell the others ABOUT it all first... It had started out with little things. Dismissible as mere effects from living in a place abundant with nature. An itching sensation on his skin whenever he passed by a certain area. Dipper mistaking it for bug-bites until he saw no bumps. Bug-spray also did nothing to ease the onslaught. A cold chill crawling down his spine, not caused by spectors. Dipper had checked for ghostly activity. Then there was the wind...

It blew in the direction of those beckoning trees. It tugged at his jacket. Stole his hat— Dipper frantically snatching it on the cusp of where open grass turned into dense woods. Unnatural shadows seemed to stretch from the eerie foliage, reaching out for him as he warily backed up a few steps. When mentioned to Mabel, she had laughed and called him a goof. Stating there were no shadows. Not on such a cloudy day, the sun barely peeking out. Dipper dropped the subject soon after, something holding his tongue as he tried to make sense of it. Nothing good could come from keeping secrets from his family. Nothing good EVER did... but—

Things had been going well. Unnaturally-so. Could Dipper really be blamed if he wanted to keep the easy-going illusion alive for a bit longer before he barged in with suspicions of doom-and-gloom? Especially when those suspicions equated to nothing more than irritated skin and chilly wind. Now here he is, foolishly wandering through the woods with NIGHT having suddenly fallen— either that or the sun refuses to touch this area —and nothing looking familiar. Futilely trying to map it out— surroundings seeming to change as he does —he groans and crumples up his half-finished map before throwing the ball onto the ground... and then hurrying over to pick it up and shove the litter in his pocket instead.

He stiffens as THAT voice calls out to him... again.

When Dipper first heard it, he had stalled in his tracks with a choked sound. Breath catching, heart pounding, and gaze darting around ominous surroundings. Every tree seeming to mock, causing Dipper to hastily turn at each creak and rustle of their boughs. Needless to stay, steps had quickened even if he still had NO CLUE where to. Shoving aside overgrowth and easing down unstable dips in the terrain, now trying to get away from something rather than towards home. But the voice hadn't ceased... Growing more insistent the longer Dipper stubbornly tried to ignore it, Dipper soon panting to catch his breath as he began to RACE through the woods.

To no avail.

Gasping for breath, Dipper finally comes to a stop right next to a bush he swears he crashed through TWICE already. As if he was led in circles despite running straight. Leaning against a tree, splinters aggravating his palm. Brows furrow, Dipper raising his lowered head to glare into a darkness that looks the same as every other time he has. ❝ Leave. Me. Alone... ❞ Growled through labored breath, he stands up straight. Fists clenched at his sides, he fights against their trembling. Against the weakness building in his knees. Against ANYTHING that could be conceived as fear from a gaze he's not even certain can see him right now.

❝ Leave me alone. Leave my family alone. Leave this town alone. Leave the WORLD alone! ❞ With each demand, voice grows louder until Dipper is shouting into the unsettling silence of the woods. ❝ We beat you. We BEAT you before and we'll do it again if you so much as dare show your stupid triangular face! How's THAT for ❛ the thrill of the hunt ❜ , Top Hat? ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[cxncrie-a]

@hazbinwisteria asked: “   Might commit a little tomfoolery, maybe even some shenanigans. ” - Emily to Adam or Charlie 

ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED COMEDIC RELIEF || Accepting

   Should he be worried? Staring at Emily, there's a raised eyebrow before he shrugs. Nah. Probably not. Emily's type of tomfoolery is probably going around and being super nice to everyone instead of actually causing trouble. Stretching out his wings for a moment, they soon tuck back under his arms as he takes a sip of his drink.

" Yeah? And whatcha gonna do Ems? Shower someone in confetti or glitter? 'Cause I don't see you causin' much trouble without turning around and probably feeling bad for it. "

[blitzbuckz]

Like Father,

Like Daughter

[atlas-ordained]

∾.❖.∾

He returns from a vacation with his spouse to find that he needs to update their home console's antivirus. Lovely.

[wildskissed]

Softer Prompts - @miidnighters mused: "come back to bed." (from Bella !)

The words made Eve smile, a laugh rumbling out of her at the prospect. "It's not that I don't want to, my darling, I promise," she told her, tugging her hair up a bit. "It's that if I do, we'll NEVER leave the bed today."

Not that there was anything wrong with that of course, but she knew they couldn't hide away from the world forever. She needed food at the very least, and as much as she wanted to keep Bella all to herself today, she couldn't imagine that was all Bella wanted to do. Then again, they both seemed to have the SAME insatiable appetite for each other so maybe she did.

"Unless that is your plan..."

[strtravels]

@unitlead SAID: " You've come home to me, then? "

Had patted the pockets of his jacket down – looking for his keys, that surely had to be somewhere! And he found them after a moment. A triumph look on his face as he pulled the keys from his right pocket and held them up like a trophy won, so that Jean-Paul could admire the silver shimmer in the porch light for a moment. Unlocking the front door was a whole different discipline of this strange sport they were part of today. Drunk. Way too drunk. Surprised, he was still standing somewhat upright, with his friend at his side, who had been chatting to the poor cab driver in French the whole time – looking at the face of the driver, he hadn’t understood a single word. But at least he had understood the address given to him between laughs and the occasional complaint that he really shouldn’t have had that many glasses. Could still smell the wine. Perhaps it was also coming from the open bottle Jean-Paul was still clinging onto. His own price won tonight.

“Shurrup! Y’going to wake Kate up!” Slurred words coming over his lips; the commanding tone not quite there, even if he had really aimed for it. He needed to focus to unlock the door and then – they’d just go from there, once they were inside the house. Anything to not wake up Kate. Part of him (a small one) knew already that it was in vain, because he knew Kate and how her sleep was as light as his own. Years in the job. Years with her two kids. – At least both Moira and Gordy were out.

Key moved towards the lock; holding his hand as steady as possible, he – did it? THE DOOR SWUNG OPEN, but before another moment of triumph could be celebrated, his eyes had already met Kate’s. A déjà-vu. Feeling like they had been in this situation before.

“My love…” Didn’t get further than the untypical greeting, before her words reached his ears. She sounded cross. And it sobered him up enough to give her somewhat of a serious look, before the weight of his friend on his shoulders (literally, hanging on) seemed to remind him that he, too, didn’t have any less to drink. The serious expression was quickly replaced by a smile.

“ – I'll always be comin' home to ya.”

[burning-fcols]

"I didn't leave on purpose, you know." An out of nowhere comment spoken in a delirious haze where Alastor found himself near bleeding out in Vox bed once again, his powers still not recovered from his brush with Adam, despite that being months ago. It had been stupid to start the squabble after just so happening to bump into Vox while walking past the front of his tower, whistling a jaunty tune he knew to be one of the TV's old favorites, but this wound had left him itching for violence, it having been too long since he'd been able to really let loose thanks to how slowly his body healed. It was like being human all over again, the threat of dying looming over his head and everything. Only this time he was sure there wasn't another Hell for him to manifest into. To get a second chance in.

He wanted a fight, and for all his posturing, he knew Vox wouldn't kill him, not with the weakened state he was in. That wasn't how they operated, kicking the other while they were down, it not beign any fun in such an unfair fight. Even if given a fair chance, however, Alastor had a feeling Vox wouldn't kill him, and Al almost hated that he could say the same. It would be so very dull without the stupid television around to pester whenever he pleased and knew he was safe doing so, no matter how many claw marks marred his body by the end.

This was only confirmed when Alastor not only woke up in general, but did so in Vox's room. The last he'd remembered their fight had taken them to the roof, and then...nothing. He'd burnt his powers out to the point that his body ached with even the thought of using them to any capacity. He was doing this too often, not giving himself time to heal. If he thought about it too much, he could almost call it a punishment, to be flirting with death like he was.

Slowly fading back into consciousness, Alastor used his radio frequency to find Vox when his body wouldn't respond, the natural hum of what he assumed was this body life force reaching staticy feelers out until pinging off Vox's own buzz. He was there, Al wasn't alone.

Any attempt at talking to Al would only lead to silence, though not from lack of trying. Body so drained, not even his vocal cords would respond beyond an unnatural crackling of dead air whenever he'd tried to speak. So he'd settled for simply using his frequency to communicate, it being buzzed or mellowed in lieu of a yes or no. He'd even panicked when he couldn't feel Vox in the room anymore after waking up from an impromptu nap earlier in the day (or maybe night? He didn't actually know how long he'd been there, and strangely, he was perfectly content to keep it that way until he was able to move again.) While short stretches of his unseen staticy appendage equated to hardly more than an inconvenient cough in terms of pain, when Alastor had reached all the way down to the lobby of the building, he had to suddenly cut the noise as his body protested in the form of throwing up what little he'd managed to eat since first waking up there.

He was pretty sure Vox had been up and at his side in the span of a mere blink, but with how his head throbbed, it very well could have been hours he'd lost to the pain. He still hurt, but it was less of an edge now that he could feel Vox in the room again, it being so much of a comfort, sinking him so deeply into security, he'd blurted out a secret only Husker knew (and that was only because the cat was so damned observant).

He didn't take back his words though, his eyes being set in the direction he was pretty sure Vox was in (when had everything become so fuzzy-) with what one could just barely call a smile on his face. "I was a fool, Vox. A twice damned fool..."

This was dangerous, trying to talk about it so blatantly. Even if he wanted to tell the whole story, he couldn't as part of the deal. Should he try to explain where he had been in earnest, it would feel as if his body was but a voodoo doll being stabbed over and over again. This was a time he didn't care, however, where he fought through the prickly warning beneath his skin. Vox needed to know he hadn't left of purpose, that it hadn't been his choice. He couldn't say why, or maybe he just didn't want to, but he needed his old friend to know.

- ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @hells-fvry 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Alastor's alluring annoying whistling had reached Vox's ears like a siren song, that damned Radio Demon acting like a ghost of the past. Taking every opportunity to haunt him, prodding at the weakness of who he used to be. Dangling the idea of who they he could have been just out of his reach; time and bad blood between them making it an even bigger impossibility than when they were on good terms. Yet Vox can't shed the ingrained bitterness only past hope could spawn, merely seeing Alastor enough to make him spark ( in several ways ) .

Vox used to think there was no personal Hell like when Alastor had gone missing for years but ever since the deer made his ❛ triumphant ❜ return, he's been doing everything in his power to prove Vox wrong. Yet Vox knows that, were he given the choice to go back to that uncertain time, he couldn't. Life without Alastor was... unsatisfying. A gaping emptiness in the hellscape, that refused to be filled no matter how much control he amassed or how much attention he garnered from Valentino.

Can he really be blamed if he comes running whenever Alastor calls?

Yes. And Vox shall continue to LOATHE his actions as they cause him to claw into the old-timey prick whose crushing grip never waned, even as the years trudged forward with no remorse... As well as carry Alastor's limp body to his own bedroom, dressing wounds and setting down the other's battered form ( pride in his victory tarnished by how clearly weakened Alastor was, now that Vox is calm enough to notice ) with more gentleness than anyone has experienced from the television demon.

Spending hours tending to the Radio Demon's needs, silent as the other aside from when he inquired about what was needed. His thoughts were loud enough. No need to add to the cacophony with idle chit-chat. Especially with someone who could barely provide a yes or no in response. Although he did play music from the room's speakers, if only for Alastor's benefit. A soothing serenade of jazz; playlist specifically made from the songs Alastor introduced him to during the start of their unforeseen companionship. Beginning with the very song used to lure him in.

When Alastor finally drifted into slumber, Vox had taken the opportunity to get some work done. After spending an hour or so standing at the bedside, just in case the deer woke up. This unexpected... inconvenience had stolen nearly his entire day, which would be exhausting at best and impossible at worst to make up without lingering consequences. He had barely managed to put a dent in the piled up memos before he felt that achingly familiar sparking presence. In an instant, the television had shot to the Radio Demon's side. Vibrating with barely-contained panic as if he expected the other to somehow be in danger, despite being in arguably one of the safest places in Hell. With how unsettlingly feeble Alastor is, the fear feels warranted.

Heavy breathing settles when he sees the room exactly as he left it, including the man upon the bed. Walking over with a practiced look of disdain, he's about to complain about being interrupted for seemingly no reason— would it kill Alastor to give him five minutes? —when the other breaks the silence instead. Steps falter, composure breaking in a manner unlike Vox. In a way Alastor never lost the ability to force from him. Narrowed eyes wide in clear shock, daresay unnerved at being met with a display of... honesty? Compassion. His only solace is that he doubts Alastor can see him through such dazed eyes.

Vox plasters on a more suitable expression regardless.

Stalking toward the bed, steps slow... reluctant calculated, hands leave their place behind his back to grip the side of the bed instead. Claws dig into the blanket, sparks dancing along his fingertips as he leans closer. Voice but a curt growl, filling the air between him and Alastor, not even the rest of the room permitted to hear. ❝ Alright. Let's say I believe you. Let's say you didn't intend to leave me for ѕєνєη ₣Ʉ₵₭ł₦₲ уєαяѕ... ❞ Voice cracks, Vox praying the trembling that follows will be mistaken as such, ❝ Why did I have to hear about your return— ❞

Swallowing thickly, he shakily exhales before hissing through the bitter taste in his mouth, ❝ —from Valentino. ❞ Over a week. Seven years of nothing and then when Alastor comes back, he didn't seek him out. Didn't so much as tell him. How is it that, after all the pain endured not knowing if Alastor had been slain without his knowledge, how Vox learned he was ALIVE is what hurt the most... 「 ☆ 」

[mcltiples]

HOLIDAY GIFT ASKS || no longer accepting

@evilmcg sent; The first lady giggled happily upon seeing her boyfriend. Giving him a hug once she was given the go ahead. It was something that was no rare occurrence but she was especially excited today since it was christmas and the first day of hanukkah. Of course she couldn't stay long due to him having his own celebration with his ricks but still she wanted to hand deliver his gifts personally. "Happy holidays sweetie! I won't stay long but I wanted to give you your present." In her hands was a beautifully wrapped box in white and gold paper with a gold ribbon. Sure at first when they started dating emeg used every holiday as an excuse to bombard him with gifts to show her love but over time she realized that wasn't what he wanted. So she opted for something that was more simple and straightforward. Inside he would find a black hoodie for his off time and a horror themed videogame she had a feeling he might enjoy. (evilmcg)

Exchanging gifts in the office became a tradition. Maybe the years before, Morty would spend the holidays at E-Rick's place and be alone with himself. Sulking about a past that never was or would ever be. This year, too many factors played into what his plans would be. And, well, this year -- instead of spending time with his Ricks -- he'd be spending it with his counterpart (@countlessrealities).

Though, Meg didn't need to know that. He wasn't hiding it from her, but it was personal and didn't involve her. So she had no right to know. If she wanted to believe that he was with his Ricks, then that was her assumption to make.

After the embrace and giving a light peck of a kiss on her cheek in return, he focused on the present being handed to him. The decorations were impressive and captured his eye. He could only guess what would lie inside of it.

Carefully opening it up, he looked at the hoodie first. He rubbed the fabric in between his fingers. It was the kind of material that felt cool to the touch, but soft once wearing it. He did need a new hoodie. Since the one he's been wearing has been worn out and full of tiny holes in random places.

Next, he looked at the video game. It had been a long time since he indulged in that hobby. He's only ever played one video game and it was a horror one. The fact that she thought to give him such a thing meant that she remembered that fact. Which meant something.

"I suppose I'll play this on my off time and, maybe you can watch, I'm not good by any means, but I don't think that's the point of playing video games," Besides, it looked like the kind of gameplay that incorporated a story rather than mind-numbing action. "But, yes, I'll leave you to your day, thank you."

And with that, he pressed forward to seal his words with a kiss. Soft and quick, just for the moment, before pulling back. "Merry Christmas, Meg."