#a little light angst for the evening

[eileensdress]

Hannibal 02x13/Hold You-Searows

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: before the nightingale sings

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for my batdad blood blossom au, the one where Vlad poisoned Danny with blood blossom extract and Danny ran away from him and ended up tumbling into the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman :). A quick oneshot telling the tale of the tragic deaths of the Fentons

TW: Major Character Death Warning

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Not all deaths are created equal.

That is a valuable lesson in life to learn. One that Danny learns when he is eleven years old, standing in the pit of his parents’ creation; the culmination of their life’s work. The portal to the other side, the realm of the dead. To the infinite. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, in a hazmat suit that sags on him, and boots that clunk when he walks because the only ones that fit are his mom’s, and even those are too big. In gloves that he has to clench his fists in because otherwise they fall off. In goggles that slide down his nose even when he’s tightened them the farthest they can go. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, choking on giggles that harmonize with the laughter of his friends’ who stand at the mouth of the tunnel. Sam’s holding a polaroid in her hand. They’re just being kids. 

They’re not laughing when Danny’s hand hits the safety lock — the one with faulty wiring, the only one in the tunnel. The only one he could possibly hit. They’re not laughing when the portal buzzes to life, and the lights inside switch on row by row as the generator begins to rumble and hum. 

They’re not laughing when Danny dies. They’re screaming. They’re not screaming when he comes back.

Not all deaths are created equal.  

Some are poetic, beautiful. The satisfying close of a book as it comes to an end, of the hardback thumping soft against the pages like the sound of a door closing. A train run its course.

Some are violent; unsatisfying; unfair. The unexpected shattering of an egg as it rolls off the countertop when nobody is looking, the unmistakable crack as it falls to the floor. It is abrupt and messy. 

But most are just… unremarkable. Unintentional. Clumsy. 

Danny’s family dies one night in late January. He is thirteen years old, barely a month away from fourteen. It is unforeseen. It is preventable. It happens. 

It happens like this: 

Their water heater breaks one Monday in January. It’s old, sitting in the garage, and has dealt with nearly sixteen years of Fenton-grade chaos and shenanigans. Of parents tossing scraps and junk into the garage as brief storage to come back to later. Of illegal tune-ups on their vehicles that result in something exploding. Of little children running around and knocking things over, playing with poles and sticks they find on the ground, on the shelves. Of being lived and used.  

Something had to give. 

Jack Fenton notices it immediately when he comes upstairs that very afternoon — his children at school, his wife downstairs — to grab something from the garage. The very same scrap and used material they store like squirrels to use later. 

He stops what he’s doing to fix it.  

It wasn’t supposed to be permanent. 

Despite what many believe, Jack Fenton is not the idiot people make him out to be. He knows what he’s good at, he knows what he’s not. He knows he can be passionate and obsessive and single-minded about things. He knows that he is a scientist, an inventor; an engineer. 

He knows that he is not a plumber. That fixing water heaters is not something he knows how to do, not safely. And he loves his family. What he does is only meant to be temporary — a fix meant to only last a few days until they can call someone in who can fix it for them. 

So Jack Fenton futzes with the water heater, gives it a temporary stitch to last a short while, and reminds himself to call a plumber later that day to come in and fix it. He turns and leaves the garage with the part he came for —  a sheet of metal for his wife to melt down — and disappears back downstairs. 

He does not make that call; it slips from his mind. 

It is not his fault. 

One day passes, then two, then suddenly it is Thursday. The water heater has still not been fixed, the water heater has been forgotten. It is nobody’s fault.  

Danny asks his parents at breakfast if he can stay over at Tucker’s house for the night. Just one night. They’re going to study for their math test and then play video games until midnight, but he only tells his parents that first half. 

He’s been doing well in school. Really well — better than he has in a while. There’s been a delightful lull in ghost appearances for the last few weeks. The living don’t know why, but Danny does. The Winter Truce always calms the dead down for a while, something about how the Zone cleanses itself twice a mortal year and that fresh wave of ecto clears out the old and brings in the new. 

This year Danny got to participate. He’s feeling the effects of it too, and he’s been sleeping consistently well for the first time since the accident. 

It’ll never happen again. 

His parents agree under the condition that he doesn’t stay up late, and Danny harmlessly lies through his teeth and agrees. He goes and throws overnight clothes into his school backpack, and when he leaves for school with Jazz his parents are already departed into the lab. 

The last conversation he has with his sister is in her car on the drive to school. Inane, mindless conversation to fill the air and pass the time. Jazz comments on how relaxed he’s been lately; Danny tells her about the Winter Truce. She listens in rapt attention. 

She tells him that she’s glad to see him so well-rested. She thinks her little brother’s been growing up too fast these days. She thinks he’s been too tense. Too caught up with the spinning of the world around him that he forgets about himself sometimes. 

When they reach school, before Danny can get out of the car, Jazz looks to her little brother and says; “I love you.” 

Her little brother’s cheeks turn an embarrassed shade of red. He makes a scrunched up, grossed-out face, but can’t hide the smile pulling across it. “Don’t be a sap, Jazz. I’ll see you later.” He tells her, yanking his hood up over his head. She hears the bashful, ‘love you too’ before he walks away. 

That is the last conversation she ever has with her brother. 

Thursday is unremarkable, passing by in its normality as it always does. There’s one, maybe two ghost sightings; shades lurking around in curious infancy that are easily spooked away by the presence of a greater being. Danny doesn’t even have to go ghost. 

Thursday evening is even less so. Danny goes to Tucker’s house — Sam has a prior arrangement with her slam poetry club — and the two of them study for an hour before they toss their textbooks aside and reach for the game console. 

Danny sleeps in Tucker’s room with one of the extra blankets on his bed, curled across the room in one of the bean bag chairs. It shouldn’t be comfortable, but to Danny it is. He sleeps throughout the night, the portal shut down by his parents before they’d gone to bed. 

Early Friday morning, before the sun has even risen yet, before it’s even so much as a concept to grace the horizon, the water heater breaks again. It was supposed to be fixed. 

Carbon monoxide is a silent killer. Odorless and scentless, it kills within minutes. It fills the house like a shadow casting over the ground, creeping into the rooms. 

Danny’s family die in their sleep; painless and unaware. 

It’s not Jack Fenton’s fault. He didn’t mean to.  

Nobody wakes up with their alarms. 

Danny wakes up to Tucker Foley’s alarm on Friday morning, and he turns his head intangible and shoves it into the beanbag chair like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. Tucker gets up before him, and throws a pillow at him as he reaches for the alarm. 

There’s laughter, messing around. The both of them get dressed, and Danny has breakfast with the Foleys that morning. He takes the bus to school with Tucker, and they meet Sam by their lockers. 

To him, everything is as normal as it should be. There are no ghosts for him to fight right now, school is as school does, and he’s on top of all his schoolwork. 

He does not see Jazz at all that morning, he doesn’t notice. Their schedules are so different, their routes on different paths, that it’s not uncommon for Danny to not see Jazz until he gets home some days. That’s if there’s no ghost attacks. 

At lunch, he gets approached by her friends. Worried creases between their brows, they ask him if he’s seen Jazz. She hasn’t shown up to any of her classes. She’s not answering their texts. It’s unprecedented of her; unheard of. 

Danny doesn’t admit to the concern that swells in his gut when they tell him this. He shrugs at them, and says he hasn’t seen her either. But it was probably nothing to worry about; she might just be sick and sleeping it off. 

He offers to text her and let them know if he gets a response, and that seems to ease her friends enough that they shuffle away in uncertainty. He keeps his word, and does exactly that. He pulls out his phone and opens her contact, and shoots her a message.

‘Where are you?’ 

He doesn’t get a response back, Danny is left on sent. He puts his phone in his pocket, and with a sense of unease creeping in the back of his mind, goes on with his day. He gets no response by the time the final bell rings; and he tries not to be worried. 

The house is quiet when he opens the door. Unusually quiet. He drops his backpack to the floor, it lands with a hearty thunk, and begins to take off his jacket. “Mom! Dad!” He yells. He hangs it up, and slips his shoes from his feet. “Jazz skipped school today!”

A laughable untruth that would get his sister all riled up normally; she should be able to hear him from the front door if she was in her room. The house just stays dead silent. 

He can’t even hear the usual banging and crashing from the lab. His unease returns. He reaches for the intercom that leads directly down to the basement, and presses the button to turn it on. A burst of static, and then he speaks;

“Mom? Dad?” 

Danny lets go, and waits for a response. He gets none back. That never happens, not when the house is this quiet. Not when he knows they should’ve heard him. 

Something sickly and fearful borns in the pit of his stomach, and begins to snake upward. He heads for the lab. The cool metal of the door is familiar in the grooves of his hand, and he doesn’t even need to think about the code as he punches it in;  he simply lets muscle memory guide him. It’s been the same since he was little. 

The door hisses as the pressure is released, and he swings the door open. He takes the stairs down two at a time. Something is wrong. His parents aren’t answering him. His feet pound against the metal. 

“Mom? Dad?” He calls again, more worried, more frantic. More scared. His voice echoes down the stairwell, and he reaches the bottom before it’s fully faded. The lab is empty. The portal is still shut down. 

It was four in the afternoon, they should still be down here. 

Danny races back upstairs, fear-raised nausea coiling in his throat. “This isn’t funny you guys!” He yells when he reaches the top, shoving open the door with more force than necessary. His head swims, his voice cracked. 

He checks the garage, the car is still there. 

“Mom!? Dad!” His voice bellows out throughout the first floor, loud enough that it bounces back at him and rings against his ears. He’s never raised his voice this much — mom would scold him if she heard him. But she doesn’t show up. “Jazmine!” 

Finally, he goes upstairs, and he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is anger or terror. Something is very, very wrong. 

He swings the door of his parents’ rooms open first, and there they are, with the lights still off and the curtains still drawn. As if they hadn’t left their bed all day. Some of Danny’s fear lifts from his shoulders just by the sight of them, but he’s still trembling. Something is still wrong — the room smells… off. Not good, not bad. Just… off. 

He swallows dryly, his throat still thick, and steps into the room. “Mom, dad?” They do not stir. “Didn’t you guys hear me yelling?” 

There is only room static. Danny’s heart shrivels in his chest with a tenfold return of terror, he feels ill. He remembers, just now, that they’re not heavy sleepers, and his dad should be snoring like a freight house. 

Danny reaches their bedside in seconds, hand outstretching for the covers, “Momma? Dad?”

Not all deaths are created equal. 

But many of them are accidental. Unmeditated. Shocking.

Danny Fenton finds his family dead in his childhood home. He runs to his neighbors in hysterics, inconsolable, in tears. Nine-one-one is called, but there is nothing that can be done. They were dead for hours by the time Daniel Fenton returned home. 

He sits on the front steps of the neighbor’s house beside FentonWorks, his jeans slowly becoming wet from the snow that was unable to be scraped off, and watches the paramedics cart out his family beneath white sheets. There are police cars blocking off the street, yellow tape blocking off his house, red-blue lights lighting up the block, an ambulance on the scene. He is wrapped in a shock blanket, and he is missing his jacket and his shoes. His tears are freezing onto his face, he can’t feel the chill. 

Not all deaths are created equal

But all of them are unforgettable. 

[asketchydomesticatedgremlin]

I played and beat drifter, poor guardian... Stuck with him for a good minute or so before continuing on the mountain, after the final encounter I put his cloak on out of respect... poor guy deserved a happier ending than that.

Wearing the guardian outfit probably isn't the best for drifter's mental state I can imagine...

Someone in pink, leaves town often, known for their fighting prowess but not much else, the Drifter is probably mistaken for Guardian often. What's worse than being called your dead friends name, though, is being asked where he went.

[nandysparadox]

"the prince always does the right thing! the good thing..."

[writesology]

cause everything means nothing if i can't have you

the first coffeeshop au art i've made... technically not The first but the first i've finished and actually posted so. yippee!!

[sysig]

Do I know you? Do I know you? Do I know you? (Patreon)

[good-beanswrites]

LCSYS ask again(undercover asker here hiiiiiaufhghghgn)thank you for responding!!!! ilovfe seeing your ideas theyre such good fuel in between trials❤️❤️

i was wondering how th prisoners would react to es’ usage of violence, like some of the younger prisoners complaining about it while the older are concerned because Hello Where did that stem from???? you cant tell me es’ “phew, i feel so much better” after hitting shidou didn’t send his mind racing a million miles per minute

ALSO curious about YONAH………… similar to how red’s violence towards es was scripted, was kotoko’s monologue about es being imperfect Also scripted, or was it on her own? yonah is probably my favourite voice drama of all time and I’m curious about how it would be interpreted in this au 🫶

Ah hello again! Thank you so much for reaching out -- every time I think I've covered everything you guys hit me with a new insane detail that makes my brain go brrrrr >:3

Because OMG I spent so much time thinking of the faked violence, I don't know why I never put as much attention on the flipside! I love the idea of Jackalope assuring them, "there will be no physical punishments. We'll talk about restraints but that's all fake. We'll make up injuries between trials but that's all fake. You don't have to worry about any real pain." And then this 15yo strolls up, interrogation one, ready to smack someone😅😅😅

Seriously though, I think it would come as a pretty big surprise to the group. They knew it was a possibility, but didn't think Es was that likely to attack, since they've made a few comments about being against violent punishments. Haruka comes back to mention the slap, and Yuno follows their instructions and says she also suffered violence, and the group is Shocked. I think it would just kill Fuuta that he wasn't allowed to hit back and avenge the others. He probably has the most complaints about the situation (and is insanely relieved that he get by in his own interrogation.) In a feeble attempt to get back at Es and make them feel bad, he encourages Muu to cry and make a big show about being afraid of them. Muu is frightened enough that it doesn't take much persuasion... I think Kotoko and unfortunately Amane wouldn't mind the threat, they both have lives in which authority showing power isn't out of place (and maybe Haruka?). Mahiru, too, thinks it's just the way a prison guard can run their prison if they want, though she's determined her charm will keep things running pleasantly.

Kazui reaches out asap* to question the legality of the experiment, since they're allowing children to get hit, even if by other children. There's a tangle of signatures and consent from everyone involved so it's okay, but the whole thing still rubs him the wrong way. He knew the experiment was a bit shady, but he(Though, this does make his first vd kind of funny -- instead of actually talking through his theories on the prison, now it feels like he's just egging Es on to see if they'll actually hit him...)

And I really like that idea that Shidou's dad instincts kick in (or maybe it's doctor instincts)! He'd understand if it was a child trying to play the role of an intimidating adult, but the way Es is doing things, the things they're saying, it all points to something deeper going on in Es' head. I can see him sitting down with the others and Jackalope to discuss. Of course Milgram gives him very little to work with, but this still kickstarts everyone's efforts to make sure Es is also taken care of post-Milgram.

*I just realized I'm still a bit fuzzy on communication during the trials. Jackalope can definitely get information to the prisoners (most commonly the 'voices' they're supposed to be hearing based on Es' notes, but also in case of emergency changes or things). I was picturing the prisoners unable to communicate outward until the trial ends, as it builds up the feeling of isolation and imprisonment. The issue is, I feel like Jackalope would want to keep that line open in case the prisoners had questions/issues with the experiment that affected their acting. So idk if the prisoners voice these concerns about Es mid-trial or they're forced to wait. I'll get back to you on that, hm

And Yonah!!

I wasn't avoiding spoilers, I actively looked for snippets here and there, but it was this ask that finally motivated me to sit down and watch it through -- and I'm SO GLAD I DID 👀 It's really well-written and wonderfully acted!! I'm floored with the whole thing omg

I really like the idea that the Milgram team instructed Kotoko to mention Es' imperfection to rattle them a bit, but left the specifics to her. Jackalope thought she'd just make some quick comment, and does a double take when he listens in on the interrogation and realizes she has a lot to say on Es and the way Milgram is run.

Jacklope told her to be harsh with Es, and she thought that was no problem at all. She felt those opinions strongly and wasn't going to go easy on the criticism just because they were a kid. She goes into the interrogation ready to stay completely put-together... and then surprises everyone and herself when Es' distress moves her to pull them into a tight hug and tell them everything's going to be alright ;---;

[seapiglet]

The only way I would've accepted seeing pre-fall Crowley and Aziraphale together is if they were like in the Heaven cafeteria, Crowley complaining to a celestial dinnerlady that the lunch options all look bad ("the food hadn't been that good lately"), while Aziraphale walks by in the other direction, needlessly worrying about something. Neither notices the other. They were this close and yet!

Perhaps Aziraphale and another angel are even discussing some rumour about angels starting to ask questions of The Almighty and expresses concern.

Keep in the "how much trouble can I get into for asking a few questions?" or whatever from Crowley but have it be with the disgruntled dinnerlady or one of Lucifer's crew he was presumably hanging out with. Show one of these soon-to-be-cast-out angels casually mentioning to him that they're thinking of bringing up a few of their concerns to "the boss" and would he be interested? It's worth a shot after all. What harm could it to?

Just anything to make it less fucking needlessly dramatic and serious.

[obeymeow]

nightbringer lesson 14 FUCKED ME UP in several ways but primarily I've spent the last 48 hours making myself sad over the solomon backstory we got. specifically I have, for no reason, latched onto that one chapter in the Kids event where baby solomon cried because he felt so guilty over being responsible for that spell. and that just feels a touch more depressing in context

[lovewhump]

I know webtoon can't be a 100% faithful adaptation of the novel,but damn,we were robbed some really amazing lines and plotlines.

Chap 116,the scene where they're in poison palace,in novel its longer,and also-

Ma Taepyeong is actually admitting that he's a bad father and said his son must hate him. Like damn,he said that to Eul Dongfang. AND CHEONSO HEARD IT

Cheonso inner monologue(mind you,I read a very butched mtl ) is like " There's time where I'm angry,There's time where I tried raising orchid to understand his feelings,but it all just in past.

Much time has passed,and I don't want to whining about what happened in those days."

Damn Jeong Madu-nim,why don't you include this monologue??? This gave us a perspective of how both Cheonso and his father think of each other,and the fact that Cheonso actually choose to forget all his anger toward his father.

Damn,this is such a good part,why did you cut it????

[starheirxero]

I'm catching up rn btw and ohhhh my ghod did they for realzies scp 3001 Ruin. put his ass in the red reality for real? for REALZIESSS?? that's so everything good for him ^_^

[celestial-toys]

been laying here listening to Lucky by Dermot Kennedy on loop for half an hour while thinking about Everything Stays and crying

[softquietsteadylove]

Hey hey :D I have a request if it’s ok?

For the actor au, Gil and Thena are shooting a scene and it has to be a pretty emotional one. Gil’s character has to beg with tears and a heartbreaking speech that she stays with her, that he needs and loves her very much (it can be a breakup or a death scene. You choose) And lemme tell you something he is such an amazing actor that Thena actually gets a bit emotional and everyone including her gets speechless.

Give us some heavy emotional speech from Gil and soft and lovely moment in the end <3

She turned, startling to find him there. "Wh-What are you doing here?"

"Are you okay?" he asked, walking over to her with his hands in his pockets.

She swiped the evidence of her tears from her cheeks. She attempted to say something but ended up just nodding, looking down at her feet and the beautiful bathroom tile below them. The lights on the back of the mirror gave her a glow, while they brought out the handsomeness of his features. "You shouldn't be in here."

"I had to see if you were okay," he whispered, knowing the line it crossed for both of them. He didn't stop getting closer, though, moving until he could lean, bracing himself against the corners of the sink, her pinned between. His eyes met hers, "are you?"

She eyed him, also trying to judge just how far they would take things. "I'm sure my fiance will ask me that."

He didn't even blink. "You're not gonna marry him."

"Excuse me?"

"You're not gonna marry him, and we both know it."

"Oh, I'm not?" she glared at him. She had plenty to say, and she would get her chance.

But this was his chance to say his peace. It had been building up in him, after all, and this was his last chance to get it all out before neither of them could turn back. "No, you're not."

"And why is that?" she whispered. It wasn't a taunt, it wasn't a dare, because that wasn't how she wanted to do things. She was asking--she was asking him to tell her. To give her a reason.

His head hovered closer to hers, their words coming out soft and breathy against the glass behind her. "Because you don't love him, and you never have."

She stared hard past him, determined to keep some even ground in the argument, "love isn't always required in a marriage."

"No," he conceded, because it was true. He moved a thumb, and it moved dangerously close to touching her hand, which he had forbade himself from doing this whole time. If he touched her skin even once, he would come undone completely. "But you do love me."

She bristled, her shoulders rising, narrowing in her own space between his arms around her.

"And I damn well love you." The line that couldn't be crossed--it wasn't the wedding happening literally the next day. It wasn't the wedding march, it wasn't even the 'I do's. It was this simple truth that existed for them both, in between them like thread tying them together no matter the distance. "I love you-"

"Don't," she whispered, those eyes glittering with any number of emotions swimming in them.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Because he had spent all this time here for her. He had only come because she had asked him to. Because he would do anything for her. "I said I'd do anything for you."

She blinked at him, a few more tears falling. "So...don't."

He reached up, brushing away her tears with his thumb. He had broken his rule in one swift move, and he had not one regret about it. "I just can't seem to, sweetie. Not this time."

She squeezed her eyes shut, visibly trying to both lean into his touch and pull away from it. "Why now?"

He let out a laugh, although it was just a breath. It was the only thing he had left, and it was hers too. "Now? No--I have loved you. I have loved you all this time."

"I never stopped loving you, for a single second. Not since the first moment I fell off my bike and you helped me up. Not since I got on that plane and not even when I got back and saw him standing next to you. I don't give a shit about him, but you?"

She turned her head as his lips hovered devastatingly close to kissing her cheek.

"I need you," he confessed like it was being dragged out of him. His breath hit her cheek, spreading over her skin. He could imagine the pink of it under her makeup. "I need you like I've never needed anything so badly in my damn life."

"I got on that plane and I thought I wasn't coming back. I thought I was off to follow my dreams, like I always wanted. Like you always told me I should."

"And then I got there, and...a-and you weren't there," he laughed, because it was such a simple, obvious statement. But the physical feeling it stirred up inside of him demanded to be spoken. "You weren't there, and it was like I couldn't breathe. I couldn't hear your voice, I couldn't see your smile. I couldn't catch your laugh from the other room and it...it broke something in me."

"I missed you like I never thought possible." He lifted his eyes, meeting hers again, still hovering dangerously close but tortuously far from her. "And I thought coming back would solve that."

She closed the distance herself, pressing her forehead to his cheek, more tears coming. "How did we get this so wrong?"

"I don't know," he whispered back, running his hand over her arm. His fingers trailed over her until he could run over that big, fat engagement ring on her finger. "Doesn't suit you."

"I know," she whispered, and he let his resolve settle over him like a blanket.

"You're not marrying him. And you can leave with me now, or tomorrow in front of the entire wedding. But I'm leaving with the woman I love, Thena."

"Cut!"

Both actors took a second to come out of the heavy and demanding scene. Gil slumped back, picking himself up slowly. Thena blew out a breath, blinking and dabbing at her tears.

A few of the crew had tears in their eyes, actually.

"That was great, guys," the director congratulated, hopping off his chair and walking into the bathroom set with them. "Honestly, I think we got it."

"Uh," a PA from behind the monitors held up a pen, "except that last line. You called her Thena."

"What?" Gil blinked. He wouldn't have--that was such a basic mistake to make. Did he?

The Director waved the script in his hands around, "so we cut around it, no big deal. We're gonna run it again for the big reveal anyway. But first, we need those closeups. Let's touch up and then we're back to one, people!"

Gil let out a nervous breath, shaking his energy out of him as hair and makeup and wardrobe did their best to squeeze in through the lights to get to the two leads. He looked over at Thena, "you okay?"

She let out a light laugh, and he felt something stir in his chest. All the better to think of for when his character brought up physically feeling its absence. She met his eyes over a makeup artist's shoulder, "and the oscar goes to."

"Come on," Gil let out a puff of air, turning bashful.

"Really," she said softly, and he could hear her still trying to shut it off. Her voice was still tight from crying. "If I heard a speech like that, I would abandon my wedding too."

Gil peeked over at her again as the other women around her murmured their agreements with the statement. They were fluffing her hair and reapplying some setting powder to her cheeks. He was getting so used to seeing her out of makeup he was starting to believe she was prettier without it.

This was exactly why he had flubbed his last line; he shook his head. He had to stay in character. He had to remember her character! If only he could remember her name. "Can I get my script real quick?"

[designernishiki]

“ugh why couldn’t nishiki see that reina was Right There and would’ve made such a good girlfriend–” he’s gay, susan

[qeyond]

LawLight au where L is a shinigami and ends up sacrificing his life for Light

[theheadlessgroom]

https://beatingheart-bride.tumblr.com/post/707565030082805760/theheadlessgroom-beatingheart-bride

@beatingheart-bride

“W-Well, you deserve to sleep comfortably too, Emily!” he insisted right back, as he sat a little more upright: Quite honestly, he’d be more than happy to give her his bed...but he also knew (even before she said so aloud) that she wouldn’t want to deprive him off the bed (especially after he’d just begun getting used to sleep in it...), leaving them once again at a bit of a stalemate...

(For a brief moment, the idea of the two of them sharing the bed crossed his mind, but he very quickly dismissed it, as his face suddenly turned white-hot behind the mask; he supposed that was one good thing about having it, so that Emily didn’t see him blush so hard and ask what the matter was...)

As much fun as it was to playfully to volley teases and arguments back and forth, Randall was now well aware of the tiredness beginning to sink in for him as he sat in his seat, eyelids beginning to grow heavy: Between the rainy, moody skies outside, the rhythm of the rain on the roof, and his own overall tiredness, his will to stay awake was beginning to ebb, as he stifled a little yawn (trying not to appear as tired as he was), saying (as one last weak protest), “I really don’t mind if you take the bed, Emily, r-really, I-I can get perfectly comfortable on the lounger...”