#and also draw him in this purple shadows more sobs

[cold-neon-ocean]

Troj WIP that's been lying around since January. Idk when I'll get back to it but I've always loved how he looked in this purple shading 💜 also yeah it's a little spicy, as a treat :3c

[sweetieviktor]

"take me back to the night we met", feat. viktor.

summary: you knew he was dieing, but seeing him using shimmer was too much to bare . based on the song "the night we met", by lord huron.

word count: 720.

content warning: season 1, act 3 spoilers! idk if shimmer use count as a cw, but anyways this is angst and it doesn't have a happy ending!

author notes: there's so much time since i've written fanfiction!! but i loved doind this one and i swear that i cried while writing this. and this may be very ooc and doesn't match the scenes in season 1, act 3, but i dont have time to watch it again now and i was so hyped up bcs of season 2 that i just had to write something, yk? also, there may be some typos or grammar errors even though i re-read this like 3 times i think lol. but yeah, here it is!

you came back to his lab expecting to see him doing good, maybe working on his research, too focused on any stuff he was doing at the moment and not noticing you by the door, but he wasn't in there, or so it looked like.

he was hunched over his desk, in his hands was a glass tube, the remaining of the purple liquid shimmering in the dark room, illuminating just enough to draw his weak silhouette amongst the shadows.

“viktor…?” was everything you said while getting closer to him, walking with slow steps, trying to make no sounds to alarm him.

“stop.” raising a hand, that was all he said.

just as you were told, you stopped on your tracks, observing that, his once perfect hand, was now painted in a shade of purple, the same that was inside the glass recipient.

it can't be. right?

“what you did to yourself?”

“i did what needed to be done.” he was so baretoned, you didn't understand why he seemed so rude, so crude, so… unlike him.

when his words settled in, it felt like your stomach was turning, wrapping itself around your guts, making you sick. you felt sick, for him.

“please, please, viktor, don't tell me that you're using sh-” “yes.”

of course you knew about his condition, of course you knew he wasn't doing good at all, and mostly, you knew that things were meant to end, one way or another. but you didn't think he would kill himself like this.

and this was all you needed to break.

“why you didn't told me? i could have helped you, we could find a way to work through it,” the tears started to prick on your eyes, your voice breaking, the anger at yourself pooling into your core. “you wouldn't need to use shimmer, vik...”

the feeling that the universe stole and took all that once mattered to you was what drove you insane. the feeling that you could make things different, make things better, the oh so simple solution that you could find, if only he had told you.

“it’s not that easy! you wouldn't understand if i told you sooner. no one would understand it, even if they tried really hard to.” he turned his head towards your direction, looking at your face for a brief second, before turning his gaze back to the ground, his purple irises trying to focus on something that wasn't your saddened face, now, feeling his own eyes burning, burning even more than the blood running in his veins. “we are in piltover, the city of progress, and yet, i am stuck behind, and i'm dieing. so, i needed to do something, and i did.”

“what you don’t understand is that you're destroying yourself, viktor. destroying yourself so slowly that it almost feels like torture. i fear that i wouldn't be able to see you for another day.” you sobbed, the tears rolling down and he didn't dare to look at your eyes again, he knew that you were crying. he knew it and he couldn't bear the thought that he was the one that made you cry. “if there is a god somewhere, i wish they could turn back time and take me back to the night we met. maybe things could be different, right?”

looking at him, a weak, nervous smile was all you could get out while crying, thinking to yourself when things started to get this wrong and how you let it happen, without even realizing what was wrong. how could you let him do this to himself?

your body was shaking, it felt like the whole world was trembling. the nonstoping thoughts hammering your head, your heart a mile per minute, the air in your lungs wasn't enough. everything, everything seemed like it was crushing down on you, right in this moment.

“i'm sorry. i'm so sorry... i need to go. now.”

you needed to get out of here, you needed to breathe.

you headed back to the door, wishing that some cold breeze would cool you down, would just stop your mind and racing heart. wishing for him to be fine again. praying for any and all gods that lived in the skies and beyond, praying for him to be alive. just for a bit more.

[astral--horrorshow]

Around-The-Clock Shadows

Platonic Yandere ROTTMNT x Reader

Info: This will be a full-length fic including multiple ROTTMNT characters, the main storyline revolves around the Mad Dogs

Fic Summary: You sure are likeable, aren't you?

《Directory》

Chapter 4: An Itty-Bitty Shock

Characters: Raph, Leo, Donnie, Mikey, Kendra, Jase, Jeremy

A/N: Apologies that this chapter is so short!! I was in a hurry to get last week's out on Thursday, so I had to hurry it along. This is all the stuff I wanted to add in chapter 3, plus a little extra. I promise next week's will be longer!

If you want to be added to a taglist, just say the word! If you want to draw fanart or make anything based off of this, I would be literally honored. Please don't be shy, I will love whatever you make! If you have any questions about the fic, feel free to ask!

TW: Kidnapping, Stalking, toxic relationships, emotional manipulation

I do not condone any of the behaviors found or done in this fic. This story is purely for entertainment purposes. If you or someone you know is being treated like this, please contact the authorities.

Chapter Summary: You process your situation, and the Purple Dragons begin to look for you

Word Count: 1045

☆~☆~☆

"Home?" A pit formed in your stomach, "What do you mean?"

"I'll handle this, Raph," Donatello said, stepping between the oldest brother and you. Raph shot him an annoyed look, "I'm the oldest, I can handle it!" The two turtles squabbled amoung themselves, with Mikey gazing upon with a concerned look on his face. Just as it looked he was about to intervene, Leo suddenly pushed Donatello aside to be the one you faced, his eyes half-closed and all six of his fingers intertwined, “You see, we’ve decided that you’re our new sibling, and so we also decided to-”

“You kidnapped me?!”

Leo, and thus, the rest of the brothers, jumped at your reaction to his words, for it was the most emotion and noise you had shown and made since you had woken up. Leo grinned with a hint of nervousness, but only a hint. “‘Kidnap’ is such an ugly word, you know! We prefer the term 'surprise adoption!'" His grin spread, though you didn’t know what there was to smile about in the situation. “I want to go home. Let me go home.” A waver had entered your voice. The position you found yourself in was so overwhelming, you could barely force yourself to talk coherently, using all of your willpower to keep yourself from babbling.

Leo tilted his head to the side, slightly, his eyes half-closing again. “I thought you heard? This is your new home, silly head!” That sentence proved to be a mistake when your bottom lip started to quiver, and your eyes became slick with tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. “And this is why we wanted to break it to them slowly, ‘Nardo. Now look at what you did.” Donatello gestured to you, the three brothers glaring at him. Leo looked offended at the negativity directed at him. “They’re fine! Just look at them!” He shot back as you started to sob in despair and fear.

"Oh, yes. They're the very image of contentedness right now," Don snarked at his older brother, his hands on his hips. "Both of you! Stop it!" Raph said, his voice raised, "Neither of you are helping!" You and the other brothers flinched at his loud voice and sharp tone, the agressiveness prompting you to cry even harder. The brothers stopped their squabbling to look concernedly at your tears, before reaching out to comfort you.

Donatello produced a box of tissues seemingly out of nowhere, which Mikey took from him and started to dry your tears. "There, there..." He cooed, "Nobody is mad at you. Everyone is just a little tense, because this is something new for all of us," He turned his head to his brothers, still wiping your face, "Right, guys?"

They all agreed with him in a hurry, some looking more unenthusiastic to do so than others. Mikey smiled, "See? Everything is alright," he unintentionally lied. Not knowing what else to do, you nodded.

☆~☆~☆

You wringed your hands together, staring at the floor from your spot on the edge of "your" bed as you wondered if you would be able to ever see the sun again. You didn't want to leave the room you woke up in just yet. Thank God a bathroom was attached. Who knows what other things waited for you out there? You had obviously never been there before, and the thought of getting lost in the underground bunker of a bunch of turtle creatures (Who had kidnapped you because they decided that you were their new sibling one day) made your throat go dry and your skin crawl.

Thuds and the sound of shouting from out in the hall snapped you from your reflections. The door suddenly burst open, with Leo nearly tripping over himself to scramble inside, the door slamming behind him. He threw himself on the bed next to you, holding out a paper plate with a slice of pizza sitting atop like a queen on her throne. "Here you go!" He cheerfully said, his hands outstretched. You took the plate gingerly, never taking your eyes off Leo. He grinned from ear to ear and flopped down on his back with his elbows supporting him from the shoulders up so he could still look at you, the back of his head leaning on one of the stuffed animals. "What's up?" He said, his grin widening to the point where it nearly reached his ears, "We got pizza to celebrate your arrival. We can't have a family dinner tonight, though. Sorry about that. The others are busy," He really didn't look sorry at all, with his mischevious smile.

"Go on, eat it. I promise it's not poisonous or anything like that." You held the slice up to your lips, your mouth flooding with saliva at the arouma of cheese and tomato. You had to stop yourself from wolfing the entire thing down after one bite, having not eaten since the night prior. Out of your sight, Leo had an extremely smug look on his face at your hunger.

☆~☆~☆

Kendra typed away at her laptop, Jeremy and Jase doing the same with theirs on either side of her. She scrolled down to the footage of the traffuc cameras up until the afternoon before, when they had given you a ride home. She was way beyond irritated. First, the tracker she had put on you got thrown in a washing machine, and then you hadn't shown up to school that day or answered any of her texts. She only saw the missing poster on her way home from school. Kendra knew it was unlikely for you to run away, at least without telling one of them. She would get to the bottom of this.

She and the boys reviewed the traffic footage for any sign of you. They had no luck until Jase gasped. "What, Jase? What did you find?" Kendra snatched his laptop and pushed him to the side, settling it down and her lap and pushing the rewind button. Jase got up and watched it with her, Jeremy also setting aside his laptop and viewing the footage. Their eyes widened as the feed cut out late in the night, and only reappeared 10 minutes later.



☆~☆~☆

A/N: Sorry if any writing is subpar!! I really had to rush to get this out on time, because I took a three-day long break because I was so burnt out after my writer's block.

Taglist <3:

@yanteetle @averagerottmntsimp @ssak-i @oleander-nin @whyiseveryonesodamnfinetho @writelikenobody

[shootsun]

Some Bai he and macaque content would be super cool or just bai he either would do! This fic here also is like a really good inspo for that sorta stuff if you need more of an idea for it anyways i hope this helps and that you have a good rest of your day or night!🧡

So that fic was super cute, and i do want to draw some stuff for it, but it'll be on a diff post - I'd also like to apologize, as this is shorter, if only because if i don't stop here, it'll turn into a 10k adoption fic (which i might write later)

and also, I hope You have a good rest of your day/night!!! <3

-----------

He pauses in the middle of his rehearsal, and the sound repeats. 

A little stuttering noise, like a too slow heartbeat, reverberates from deep within the hall, and he feels his ears twitch at the disturbance. To anyone else, it might sound like the creak of the theatre, or they might not register it at all. 

Macaque follows the beat down the twisting corridors, his hand dragging along the wall. It's a small thing, both comfort and precaution, to touch the shadows on a solid surface. 

An easy escape, a grounding touch.

There's no need to creep in his own theatre, every brick, curtain and plank of wood is imbued with his magic, - there's honestly no safer place for him than here, but he finds himself tiptoeing along the closer he gets to the source of the noise.

And then, there, a small sniffle rings out like the tolling of a bell in the quiet space.

He turns the corner silently, half in the shadows and with one hand outstretched, ready to strike, when he sees the small huddled form in the corner.

Instantly, he jerks backwards, his heart rate quadrupling as he covers his mouth to muffle his panicked breaths. 

‘It’s her, it’s her, it’s her!’ Loops in his head. 

He tells himself it’s normal to fear someone who once was a vessel for an ancient malevolent spirit, especially one who was so…entangled in his ‘destiny’ as she would’ve so lovingly put it.

But that’s not the real reason he’s about to turn tail and run, like a coward (again).

It has everything to do with the fragile awe in her bruised eyes and the way she flinched from everyone’s touch but his. It has to do with the fact she’d whispered, “You saved me,” in a voice so little and tired that he couldn’t find it in himself to do anything other than hold her tighter and murmur back, “I’ve got you.”

It has everything to do with his abysmal track record of shattering anything precious that should be protected by his blood-stained hands. 

He wonders how Wukong does it; holds MK so tightly when he knows how much blood coats his claws.

Her sniffling grows louder, and Macaque wants to cover his ears and pretend he never heard it at all, but when she whimpers, he’s kneeling in front of her before he can register doing do. 

“Kid?” He calls softly, his hands hovering inches from where her arms are tightly cinched around her knees. 

She squeaks and flinches backwards, hitting her head on the wall behind her and throwing her arms up to protect her face.   

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” She sobs, and his eyes zero in on the myriad of bruises that layer her skin. 

A few are a few weeks old, yellowed and sickly looking - the ones from her (‘Lady Bone Demon’s’ he reminds himself) fight with Wukong. 

There are others that are newer, a violent shade of blackish brown that makes his stomach turn. 

He’s seen centuries worth of violence and gore, but on young creatures, humans, demons, and monkeys alike…it never fails to horrify him. 

“You’re okay, you’re alright, I’m not here to hurt you.” He promises, and steps back, keeping his hands in front of him the whole time. 

At his voice, she lowers her hands, and he’s struck with how little the purple smear under each eye has lessened. If anything, it looks worse. 

“You,” she says, and it’s that same tone, that same tired admiration and relief from so many weeks ago. 

‘Oh no,’ He thinks, just in time for her to fling her entire tiny body into his stomach, elbows first of course. 

Macaque doubles over, enfolding her in what he’s sure she thinks is a fantastic hug, trying not to wheeze too loudly. He taps at her back, trying to keep track of the seconds as they pass, and she snuggles deeper into his hold. 

Tiny hands wrap themselves in his fur at his neck, and one of his arms is already trying to move to hold her more securely, like he’s about to put the tiny girl on his hip and walk her to sleep like she’s a fussy toddler. 

As his breathing returns to a more normal state, he looks down at the black and white streaked hair under his nose. The girl’s shampoo is almost overpowering, something mango and coconut scented, and brightly coloured he’s sure, but there’s a faint scent underneath all the others, (her detergent, gas and smoke and that tingling ozone that permeates the city,) that lingers. 

The smell of dry bone sticks to her even now, and it sends a chill down his spine.

“Kid,” he rasps, and she shuffles in his arms. 

“Bai He.”

He can feel her tiny nails (so flimsy and thin compared to his claws; can she even defend herself with those?) against the skin of his neck. 

“What.”

She pulls at his fur, and he barely blinks at the sting. 

“My name is Bai He.”

He’s almost too busy trying to figure out if humans should feel this light to recognize she’s trying to get his attention, make sure he knows her name, (he knows it, he doesn’t want it, doesn’t want to become attached to her) and hums out something affirming. 

“Don’t make me go back,” She whispers, and Macaque wants to break right then and there, but he just carries her through darkened halls, feeling her fall asleep in his arms. He knows whatever home looks like, MK and the others didn’t like it much, but she refused to go with them, or leave.

It makes him grind his teeth to think about what could have caused her to run away, but as disgusting as it is to hope a stranger would lay a hand on a child, he thinks it better than someone familiar. 

He quietly opens the door to his private dressing room and skirts around the mounds of costume fabric and half-finished designs in overlapping piles on the floor, trying to make it to the very comfy - if not very lumpy - couch shucked in the back corner. 

Bai he doesn’t let go of him until he kneels on the floor and carefully pries each finger out of his fur, and even then, she frowns in her sleep and makes a mournful keening noise that cuts at his heart like a scalpel. 

As he steps away to grab a fur lined cape (he doesn’t have blankets, why would he? He’s the only one who sleeps here, and even then, he usually just wraps himself in whatever costume is thickest if he’s cold) Bai He opens her eyes.

“You’re leaving?” There’s so much fear and hurt pouring out of those words, he almost recoils. 

“No, no, little one. Just…” he flourishes the cape, and the black fur interior catches the purple lighting and shimmers.

“You’ll stay?” She asks, and as much as he wants to refuse, he soothes her wrinkled brow with his thumb.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up.” He needs to stop making promises before he makes one he can’t keep. 

Macaque tucks the cape under her chin and watches as she sinks into the fur with a sigh. 

A small hand curls around his fingers and he swears internally. He’d die for this kid.

[bokettochild]

Violet

So y'all remember this animatic? Yeah?

I wrote a thing based off of it.

I'm not entirely sure how I fee about it, but y'all have shown how much you like my crack in the past, even if I wasn't sure about that either, so...

Here's Legend getting mistaken for a mom and pulling his brothers into a terrible impromptu acting adventure.

There are many things you do not do in Castletown.

One of those things, apparently, was taking Twilight with you, and next time he had a chance Legend was seriously considering muzzling their wolfish friend, in his shadow form or not.

He wasn’t the only one with that thought either apparently, although likely the only one who was thinking it out annoyance rather than utter and complete terror. Honestly, Twi needed to cut that protective streak of his in half, or he was going to be regretting it even more than he was going to regret this!

They’d all met thieves before, on the road, in villages, even here in Castle Town, and unfortunately Warriors’ central city was particularly full of them. The captain had explained it ages ago, something about the war displacing people and stirring up unrest with the refugees. It wasn't uncommon that someone got tired of relying on the crown for help, which, the captain had admitted sorrowfully, was rather slow in coming, despite all of Artemis’s efforts, to provide any sort of relief to the starving and displaced victims of the war. Legend had winced at that. Poor blokes, it had been similar in his own Hyrule when those trapped in the dark world emerged again, and even back in their Hylian forms, many of them had struggled to readjust to a world that had moved on in their absence.

It was little wonder than that those in the captain’s time faced the same struggle, especially after a bloody time war, but even so, it bothered him to no end that their group specifically had been the one that the idiot of a man chose to target. Honestly! They were all carrying swords for pities sakes! How did the sod even think he was going to catch a bunch of warriors unawares to steal from them?

Maybe it was because they were split.

It only made sense, after being dropped in the captain’s time, that they restock supplies. Both for practicality and to avoid suspicion, they’d divided the group into two to better run their errands, Time taking those less accustomed to bustling cities with him to gather food and potions, and Warriors leading the rest of them, those who could stand crowds at least a little bit better, to visit the blacksmith, fletcher, and tailor shops.

True to form, the captain strutted ahead with his scarf waving behind him, Wind tagging along beside him and chattering excitedly about something or other at the soldier. He and Four, however, had chosen to trail after, not for any particular reason other than both being extremely tired and maybe just a bit emotional.

In his own case, he hadn’t slept in a good sixty-three hours or so, and combining that with the stress of wandering around in an unknown place, he was a little more sensitive than usual and a bit put out as a result. Similarly, Four was fighting off his usual headache from their sudden switch, and ever since they’d pulled themselves out of the alleyway Hylia dumped them in, the shortest hero had worn his hood pulled over his eyes, mumbling softly under his breath in a way that was, unfortunately, unnerving Legend further and making him want, very much, to beg the other to stop.

That wasn’t an option of course, so he did something he hated almost as much as the saunter Warriors was using to get down the road.

He made small talk.

It helped, surprisingly, and while the four of them had run their errands, he chattered amiably with the smithy, who’d been willing to talk as long as he didn’t have to think too much on things. Legend could agree with that, and the two had spent the last half hour discussing if Four’s tunic really was red, green, blue and violet, as the smithy claimed, or red, green, blue and purple as Legend thought it was.

“It’s violet.” Four huffed, pushing the last bundle of arrows into his pack as they departed from the smithy’s shop and made their way back to the fountain at the center of town, where they'd agreed to meet with Time and the others.

“But it’s not!” He insisted, shifting the bundle of fabric in his arms and meeting the smithy’s gaze. “Violet is softer, duskier, a bit closer to grey or blue. That’s purple, plain as day!”

Warriors and Wind, for once, didn’t say anything, only exchanging grins every so often that the other two ignored.

Talking with Four was surprisingly pleasant, and ridiculously easy in comparison to talking with the others. For one thing, neither had to look too very far up or down to see the other, and as they’d found since their first dinner at the ranch, it was easy to say a lot with just a look. Subtle communication also went a long way further with the smithy than with anyone else, and it was a relief not to have to explain everything for once. Additionally, Four also liked reading, and unlike with most of their other brothers, they could actually have intelligent conversations with each other.

Not that that’s what they were doing when they’d trailed after the other two towards the fountain, but when they heard the snarl and resulting scream, the look the two heroes shared had carried as many words as a full two-hour lecture, while all at once conveying a single thought.

Oh boy, what did Twilight do this time?

What Twilight had done, he found out later, was spring a thief who had attempted to snatch the Sheikah Slate from Wild, who’d been a bit busy trying to calm his anxiety to really notice that one of the humans pressing close all around him was actually trying to steal it. That, naturally, was all well and good. The problem was the way Twilight had chosen to handle it and Legend swore there were days that Twilight forgot what form he was in; rather than pushing the thief away or grabbing ahold of them and confronting them, the gracious rancher had chosen to fling his entire body weight at the man and bite his arm.

Of course, that was only what Legend found out later, what he saw when the four of them managed to peek through the crowd, was Twilight standing there in full sight of the entire market with blood on his teeth and a man screaming in pain and terror at his feet.

Bravo, Rancher, bravo.

“Oof.” Wind winced. “That’s not good.”

“Shit.” Warriors swore, glancing around nervously and ripping his scarf off to hide in his pack.

Realization sprung on the vet like Twilight had the poor thief; Warriors was the hero here. If anyone noticed him, or any of the knightlier looking ones, they’d probably try and have them arrest Twilight. That was all well and good of course, as it would make a reasonable excuse to haul the rancher out of the way, but they’d be expected to call for help from some soldiers, and while they’d been planning on meeting with the queen while they were here, having Twilight presented to her as a feral, potentially insane, and definitely dangerous criminal was not the approach they were aiming for.

They needed a distraction, fast.

So, like the reasonable and totally mentally secure Hylian that he was, Legend shouted the first thing that came to his mind. “Violet!”

His three companions stared at him, and had he been capable, he would have stared at himself, but a desperate glance Fours way had the other drawing back, nodding slowly as Legend shouted again. “Violet? Honey?”

Warriors looked at him like he’d lost his head, gripping Wind’s shoulder firmly as if worried he’d have to pull the kid back from the apparently mad veteran.

Thank Din for teaching him acting years ago, even if it was all stage performing, but he was counting on it to get him, and Twilight, out of their respective messes, even if that meant building his higher before he could escape. At any rate, he’d caught the attention of a few people with his panicked shout. Turning to the nearest Hylian that wasn’t one of his group, he gently tapped the woman’s shoulder, letting his panic and everything in general spill over into his face and voice as the woman met his gaze with a startled look.

“Ma’am, I’m looking for-” Oh Four was going to hate this. “-My child, Violet. Have you seen a blonde Hylian child, so tall?” He lowered his hand to approximately where Four’s head would reach. “I’ve been looking everywhere!” He forced a fake sob into his voice, glancing from the woman to the surrounding crowd, and Warriors and Wind in its midst.

Wind was stifling a laugh behind his hand while Warriors stared in utter shock.

“Oh my,” The woman touched her cheek, clucking lightly and patting Legend’s hand in a consoling manner. “You poor dear! I haven’t seen a thing but just give me one moment.” The burly housewife turned, still patting Legend’s hand gently as she murmured something to the women behind her, before turning back to Legend with a sorry expression. “None of my friends have seen your little one, dear. But-” The woman turned and, with all the force and volume of a cow, hollered at the top of her lungs to the crowd as a whole. “Hello? Yes, this woman is looking for her daughter!”

Woman?!?!?!

“Her name is Violet! She’s-” The woman blinked, looking to Legend with a worried look as several other market goers turned to stare, many of them women with looks of pity and understanding that was making him wish he’d stayed silent. Fortunately, his ruse had startled them out of staring at the sight of a mauled thief as worry for a poor young mother and her lost daughter took its place. “She’s how old?”

Legend fought the protest of female pronouns, both on Four’s part and his own, but only in his head. Outwardly however, he covered his face with the hand not being smashed by the farm-wife's own. “She’s four.” Shoot him, he was saying whatever came to mind because he was panicked, alright?

A snort could be heard behind him, earning disapproving looks from the crowd that soon shifted to pity as Wind too joined the act, turning his snort into pitiful sniffling as he clung to Warriors’ hand, looking for all the world like a child who’d been to the market too long and wanted to go home, but was also panicking at the loss of their sibling. “Have you all seen my sister?” The sailor blubbered softly, actual tears spilling down his face as he pouted, expression making his act so believable that no one even questioned his height. As if to make the act more convincing, Warriors wrapped an arm around the kid’s shoulder, his own face stiffening into something that could either be gas or worry, Legend was a bit on the fence.

“What’s going on here?” Legend wished that was Time stalking towards them in full armor, but it wasn’t, it was a Hylian Soldier, staring at the crowd with a grim frown on his face as he turned to Legend, standing in its center.

Oh well, those who crack under a tough audience get tomatoes to the face; he just hoped Wars would keep playing along. “My daughter,” He sobbed into his hand, pulling the other free from the housewife to properly cover his face. “She- My baby- I can’t find her anywhere, Sir!” Later, Warriors would begrudgingly admit that the look Legend shot the soldier was enough to break any heart as the vet stepped forwards, grabbing hold of the man’s arm with all the desperation of a worried mother. “Please tell me, have you seen a little girl? She’s in her favorite dress, the colors of the goddesses, red, green and blue?” He motioned down at his own tunic, skirt, whatever one would call it. “There’s a violet corner too, I made it for her myself- oh my poor baby! I can’t seem to find her anywhere!”

The grizzled soldier quickly melted under the power of tearful violet eyes, and he too gently patted Legend’s hands as if he thought it would do any good. “I’ll have my men look for her right away, ma’am. How old would you say she is?

“She’s four.” He reaffirmed. Might as well stick to his original story.

“So tall?” The farm-wife motioned, hands lowering a bit more than Legend’s had, but the woman was trying to help, so he couldn’t really be upset with her for getting it wrong. At this point though, he was a bit worried about where Four actually was, because he’d expected the shorter hero to make an appearance sooner rather than later so the act could end.

“Right.” The man nodded, pulling himself loose as Legend brought his hands to clasp in front of his chest in an imitation of the maids he’d seen worrying about the halls when Fable went missing. “We’ll do everything in our power to find your little one, madame, you have my word.” The soldier bowed, kissing the back of the vet’s hand graciously before moving back into the crowd and snapping orders at the soldiers stationed around the market.

People buzzed by, spreading the word of ‘little Violet’s’ disappearance as Warriors and Wind pushed forwards to where Legend stood.

“Really, vet?” Warriors murmured lowly.

“I panicked.” He admitted softly, as to avoid anyone noticing as he wrung his hands. “But seriously, where is ‘’Violet’? I thought he’d have appeared before it became a big thing.”

The captain frowned, settling a hand on his shoulder carefully and standing on his toes to look over the crowd as Wind giggled at the scowling veteran. The minute he shot a look down at the sailor though, the kid had picked up his role as smoothly as if he’d never dropped it. “I’m worried, mom.” Wind blinked past fake tears, and had he not needed to remain in character, Legend would have scowled and flicked the kid’s nose for the tease.

“I am too, honey.” He sighed instead, ruffling the sailor’s curls and looking over to where the others had been. Time and the others had disappeared into the crowd again, likely trying to keep a low profile and laughing their asses off at Legend’s expense while Time and Sky scolded Twilight.

“Mama?” A small voice called out, and the crowd, and he meant the whole crowd, the whole freaking crowd of several hundred people, froze as a small face peeked out from an alleyway, the smithy’s hand coming up to rub at his shimmering purple eyes with a sniff. “Mama?”

“Violet!” All three heroes surged forwards, Legend sinking to his knees and wrapping Four in a hug, taking the opportunity when his face was hidden from the crowd to scowl. “About time you showed up.” Aloud for the crowd however, he let sobs pitch his voice hysterically. “Oh honey, you can’t run off on mama like that! I was worried sick!”

And as if to put the icing on the cake of shame, one of the men in the crowd smiled softly, patting Warriors’ back with a friendly smile. “Your wife is quite the caring mother, isn’t she? Ah, you’re a lucky man, Mr.”

Legend forced himself to not blow their cover, no matter how little they now needed it with the others safely out of sight. Breaking character meant causing drama that they didn’t need. ‘Violet’ had been found, the cute little family would depart, people would calm. But if the worried mother turned out to be a screaming teenage boy and the lost daughter to be a smithy apprentice with a height problem, people would likely riot. So instead of turning around and giving the man a piece of his mind, he pushed forwards, hefting Four in his arms (the smithy sank into him with a sigh that couldn’t have been faked) letting the smaller hero nestle against him, hood hiding the smithy’s face from view as he pulled them both up, adjusting his arms so as to not drop the other.

Man, he was glad he’d put on power bracelets today.

“She is indeed.” Warriors forced out, a strained smile on his face as he settled his hand on Legend’s waist, stiff, cold and incredibly awkward. “We’d probably better head off, dear.” If the captain smiled any harder, he’d break his teeth. “Or the inns will all be full.”

It should have ended there, it should have. Legend was so ready for it to end (although Four was warm and a calming presence as the smithy began to doze against his chest), but because fate loved to mess with him, it didn’t.

“You’re looking for a place to stay the night?” The Man-Who-Needed-To-Be-Kicked cocked a brow. “I run an inn here, just across the square. I’m sure we can find a lovely little family like yourselves a place to rest, you and our wife must be exhausted after such worry!”

Warriors, sages curse and bless him, nodded along stiffly, gently pulling him along by is waist after the Blasted-Innkeeper-Who-Would-Be-Kicked as the man chattered about family discounts and free dinner. Legend’s shoulders only lowered when a free trip to the bath house was also thrown in ‘complimentarily’.

He regretted it when someone pointed him to the ladies’ side of the bath-house (think heavens it was empty that early), and he was about ready to strangle something or someone when the others joined them inside, stuck with a regularly priced room, and the smithy and vet both were bombarded with teases as Warriors sat looking utterly and completely disgusted.

“They thought we were married....”

Legend groaned, flopping over on the other side of the bed with a grimace. “Gross, right?”

“Yeah.”

"We’re forgetting this ever happened, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Regardless, no one ever let them forget it happened.

Legend was buying Twilight a muzzle, and he was pretty sure Wars would be willing to help.

[talonwings]

Who We Are - Empires SMP writing

a gift for you, empiresblr, courtesy of my now 5 hours of fWhip headcanons. feel free to kill me when you're done. (also sorry i don't yet have an AO3 i can link to, i've been on the wait list foreeevvveerrr).

CW for slight body horror, angst, and i guess suffocation kind of?

“fWhip? Hello? Are you in here?”

He heard the call--how could he not have, when the voice was hers? Still, he did not move, remaining where he slumped against the wall of the underground room. One of the redstone crystals blooming from the stone was jammed against his shoulder blade, but even the pain could not entice him to rise.

“fWhip, come out!” Gem’s voice was a mixture of frustration and concern, a tone he rarely heard from her--well, the frustration he had heard before, but the worry was new. Gem almost never fretted about anything; it was how she had kept him and Sausage so well in line up until now.

“I’m going to come down there!” The threat echoed down the passageway that separated the secret room from the unassuming shopfront above it. “I know where your lair is, it isn’t a secret! Don’t make me come down there!”

“Don’t,” fWhip rasped. “Please.”

Gem either couldn’t or didn’t hear him. “I’m giving you one minute, and then I’m coming down there whether you like it or not!”

“Please,” he tried again, but his voice would not obey him. It petered out almost as soon as it passed his lips. He licked them, swallowed, coughed, tried a third time. “Gem, please, go away.”

This time, it seemed, she did hear, for she answered, “I will not go away! Nobody’s seen you in two weeks, fWhip! We’re worried sick!”

“I’m fine,” he croaked--a lie.

“You don’t sound fine,” she retorted. “I’m coming down.”

He opened his mouth to warn her off again, but the tell-tale sound of the painting door sliding back masked whatever he might have tried to say. Seconds later, her footsteps started up, the familiar click of those heeled purple boots getting ever louder as she marched along the passageway toward his laboratory.

fWhip’s gaze darted around in a panic, searching out anyplace that would be suitable to hide. He hadn’t moved from his current spot in over twelve hours, and his limbs protested as he shoved himself violently to his feet, teetering off-balance from the unfamiliar motion. Finally, he settled on a small cranny near the back of the chamber, and limped over to it, cramming himself inside just as Gem’s footfalls indicated that she had reached the door to the lab itself. He heard her swing it open, and then her voice, much clearer now, softly called, “fWhip? Where are you?”

“Go away,” he replied, hating the stony rasp that he couldn’t seem to get rid of now. “Don’t want to see you.”

“Well, that’s just rude,” she replied. He could imagine the look on her face, and fought against the lump it brought to his throat. He wanted to apologize, to beg for her forgiveness, to throw himself into her arms.

“Didn’t ask you to come,” he croaked instead.

“No, actually, Jimmy did,” Gem replied waspishly. “Your enemy. You remember him? The one you stole his most precious possession from? He sent me a message three days ago to tell me he hadn’t seen or heard from you in over a week. Mind you, this was after I’d been questioned by Sausage, Pearl, and Shrub as to why you’ve missed the last two alliance meetings. fWhip, even your enemies are worried about you. Where have you been?”

Oh, if only you knew. His mouth twisted with a hateful, bitter little smile. “Busy.”

Gem audibly scoffed. “Right.”

“Leave, Gem.” The order tasted strange in his mouth, when he desperately wanted her to stay.

“Not until I see you.” He heard her start moving around the room, picking things up and nudging them with her feet, rearranging boxes and sliding barrels aside as she searched.

“Leave.” The cranny was small, but he squashed himself further inside anyway, stone scraping against all the places where his skin was exposed.

“Are you back there?” His stomach squeezed with terror as he heard her move toward him, squeezing between two of the suspension tubes where he had once stored specimens he was researching. “I can’t see you.”

“Please, leave, please.” If he couldn’t order her, he could at least beg her. “Gem, please, if you care about me at all, go away.”

“fWhip, I do care about you,” she said gently. “That’s why I’m here in the first place. Please come out. I just want to know you’re safe.”

He could feel his heart ripping itself in half--desperation to hide warring violently with the desire to finally be seen, even if it would cost him everything. It felt like it might burn a hole in his chest, and his hands tightened reflexively into fists as he battled himself for what seemed an eternity.

“Please, little brother,” Gem whispered.

It was as if she had caved his chest in. A sob dragged itself from his throat before he could stop it, but he finally let himself unfurl from the cranny to drape limply across the floor, gazing up at his sister’s blue-violet eyes as they widened in shock, which turned to horror, which turned to sorrow.

“Oh, fWhip…” Gem reached out a hand toward him, but hesitated, drawing her fingers back before she could reach him. “What happened?”

“You really want to know?” He had to shove back another sob with a monumental effort, watching the way her fingers trembled as she gazed at him. “Or do you want to leave, like I told you to before?”

“No, I would never,” she gasped. “Not now. Not like this.” She sat down on the floor, her violet cloak flowing behind her like a pool of silky water, and slid closer to him, although not quite close enough for their hands to touch. “Tell me what happened.”

He let his eyes drift away from hers, toward the ceiling and the red crystals dripping from its shadowy recesses. “Well, it began two weeks ago.”

Two weeks earlier…

fWhip was not a stranger to surprises, but he liked receiving them far less than he liked planning them.

It had been a long elytra flight from the undisclosed location of the Wither Rose headquarters back to his home in the Grimlands, and the multiple hours in the air were wearing on his body--even though he had been wearing his scarlet goggles for the duration, his eyeballs still ached as if the wind had been hammering them, as did his shoulder blades from the yank and drift of the elytra against his own muscles.

“Maybe next time I take a horse,” he muttered to himself as he angled in for the landing. The deepslate roofs of the Grimlands were beginning to glide by beneath him now, and he made for the circular patch of dirt at the back of the manor that was his customary landing site, his eyes trained on it until something else caught his attention.

“I am positive that was not there before…” One hand came up to tap his chin as his gaze caught on the massive outcrop of deepslate that had bloomed at the front corner of the manor gardens, studded with glinting redstone crystals. A darker shadow within the ring-shaped formation suggested there might possibly be a hole there, though how deep was indiscernible from this far above.

“If somebody has been trying to steal from me again--wait.” fWhip narrowed his eyes at the spot, investigating it more closely now, for it seemed more familiar the closer he drew. He could vaguely recall setting a circle of rocks within the closed hedges, and in their center, a red container, filled with--

“Damn! Xornoth again!” His breath huffed out harshly as he realized what had happened. First the explosion, and now this…

Veering off-course from his typical spot, he carefully glided down until he was low enough to snap the elytra closed and drop gracefully to the ground between the wide hedge rows. From down here, the deepslate ring seemed much larger than it had from the air, its jagged edges stabbing into the blue sky. He could tell now that there was, indeed, a hole at the center, exactly where he had placed the shulker-box filled with Xornoth’s corruption.

“Damn,” he whispered again. He edged closer, peering carefully at the hole as he neared in an attempt to see what might be at the bottom. It appeared to be deeper than he was tall, however, and he was forced to maneuver up to the very lip of the hole to get a good look at the bottom. Thankfully, there did seem to be a bottom, lurking maybe ten feet below the surface; the depths of the hole were quite dark, though, only dimly illuminated by patches of glimmering red crystals, and he was unable to determine much more than that.

fWhip wondered, briefly, if he ought to just ignore the hole. Common sense would seem to suggest that it was involved with Xornoth in some way, and therefore worthy of at least being avoided for the time being until he could request the help of his allies. fWhip, however, whether fortunately or not, had always been availed of a strong sense of curiosity--it was how he had developed so many of his gadgets and tools. Besides that, there was something about the depths of the small hole that seemed to call to him, and him specifically.

He glanced around, taking stock of who might be nearby in case he needed to call for help, and saw no one in the immediate vicinity. There was a groundskeeper’s cottage just on the other side of the hedge row, but he had no way of knowing whether anyone might be inside.

“Well, I suppose I’ll just have to take a chance,” he murmured. “Here goes.”

Gingerly, he sat down at the edge of the hole, dangling his legs off the side and exploring for possible footholds. It took him a minute, but his toes finally caught on a ledge, and he was able to hoist himself down and into the vertical shaft. Thankfully, the same jagged-edged property of deepslate that made it look menacing also made it excellent for climbing, and he had relatively little difficulty lowering himself the full ten or eleven feet to the bottom, where his feet landed on solid stone. Looking up, he was surprised how dim the sky seemed to be after such a short descent.

Now what? he thought to himself as he gazed around at the narrow walls on all sides. Surely I didn’t make an ass of myself climbing down here for no reason.

He had but a few seconds to wonder, as a strange hiss caught his attention, echoing from the rock walls. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but the small hole began rapidly to fill with a reddish mist, which, when he inhaled it, made the inside of his nose and throat burn as if he had inhaled fire. He coughed, accidentally inhaled again, and coughed more violently, and still the stuff spewed into the cavern, and he began to wonder whether this was a trap, and whether he had been an idiot for climbing down here, and whether his allies--his friends, his sister--would find his corpse rotting down here. His hands scrabbled for handholds to lever himself back up, but the mist had filled his eyes now, and it stung, forcing him blindly to his knees. He couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, could barely think. Lights danced behind his eyelids, and his throat was a tunnel of fire, and then he was unconscious, and knew no more.

Present day…

“And the next thing I knew, I woke up. And...this.” fWhip gestured down to himself, unable to keep his mouth from curling like he had tasted something sour. “Or, well, part of it.”

“Part of it?” Gem cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it was just the wings at first.” He tugged at the grey-black appendages, hating that he could feel it when his fingers brushed the leathery flesh. “And to be honest, I thought they were awesome. Who hasn’t dreamed of having wings? Sure, they looked a little gargoyle-ish, but it seemed like a small price to pay for not having to use elytra anymore. And it felt like the redstone magic was helping me, maybe giving me a gift to fight against Xornoth. I thought it might be something good.”

“And then…” Gem prompted when he trailed off.

“And then...the rest started,” he whispered. “I tried to ignore it at first. I thought maybe I was hallucinating, or getting sick, because it started with just my eyes, and I felt like maybe it would go away if I just, I don’t know, pretended not to notice. But then it was my skin, and then my hands, and then...and then my face.” He turned away from her as a visible shudder made its way through him. “I look disgusting.”

“Why didn’t you call us for help?” Gem murmured.

“Because it was my fault it happened!” he growled, shaking his head. “Because I was an idiot and went down that hole and breathed in that gas, and now I’m a monster, and I have no one to blame but myself. Because I couldn’t wait for you.”

“fWhip, no!” He could see the glimmer of moisture in her eyes, and he hated himself even more for it, for making her upset. “It isn’t your fault. You didn’t know what would happen, and you’ve always been an investigator. And now you’ve had to suffer alone, and I had no idea, and…” Her voice caught. “I was so worried. I thought maybe the demon…and especially after those dreams...”

He swallowed. “I...I’m sorry. I just...I didn’t know how to face everyone like this.”

They sat in silence for a long moment, simply listening to their own breaths. Finally, Gem said, “It doesn’t look that bad, you know.”

fWhip eyed her dubiously. “Gem, I look like a gargoyle. Like some kind of…” The word demon couldn’t force itself out, but he could see she understood, for she vigorously shook her head.

“No, you don’t look anything like that,” she said. After a long pause, she quietly added, “You look like my little brother.”

He tried, but couldn’t stop the tears from sliding down his cheeks. “Thanks,” he whispered.

She reached over and finally took his hand, and he almost shouted with joy at the touch of another person; her skin was warm and soft, her delicate tiny fingers gentle as they closed around his rough, clawed ones.

“We’ll figure this out,” she promised. “Together.”

He nodded, and squeezed her hand. “Together.”

[princeanxious]

Have some Patheon AU visuals I think about drawing often:

-Patton and Virgil are quietly chatting about something while Virgil works on a piece of lace, Roman stepping into the same room and making his presence known to them, first passing by Patton and giving the other a kiss on the cheek, then standing behind Virgil with a hand on his shoulder, gently sweeping Virgil's hair(which is not styled outside of the front being pinned out of his face to work) to the side to place a gentle kiss to Virgil's neck. Virgil continuing to work while smiling and flushing bright pink.

-Remus is showing Virgil his favorite kind of natural weather, a (gentle) rainstorm, and show him his favorite worms, bugs, and amphibians that come out in the rain. He kind of forgets that Virgil can get cold and sick from being soaked and realizes two seconds too late and Virgil ends up tucked in the arms and under the head of a panicked Remus, wrapped inside Re's thick and warm cloak. All anyone would see is a tall cloaked gentle 'giant' and an second tiny face peaking through the cloak some ways under the cloak wearer's head, smiling and giggling as the giant worriedly chatters down at them.

-Virgil having fallen asleep between Emile and Remy, Remy had been braiding Virgils hair while Emile quietly talked to Virgil until the poor thing dozed off. It was a purposeful ploy, because Virgil had seemed super tired all day. He ends up waking up like 10 minutes later but surprisingly lets himself be shuffled into a soft bed and immediately crashes for the next few hours, cuddled right up into Emile and Remy's arms.

-Virgil was sometimes plagued with uneasy dreams/nightmares, but he never woke or remembers that he had them because Janus would skirt in through the shadows late at night at the first quiet whimper. Even though Janus spent all his time avoiding Virgil when the human was awake for reasons unspoken, he still actually cared deeply for Virgil, just feared letting the human close. All it takes is a gentle brush of the hand and hes easily able to banish the bad dreams. None of the others aside from Thomas and Emile knew he did this until much, much later.

- Logan oh so gently cupping Virgil's cheeks and cooing softly, swiping away overwhelmed tears from V's face as he reassures the other that he's worth their love, that no amount of 'logical reasoning' could ever quantify the amount the Pantheon loves Virgil.

-Janus knelt softly on the ground, surrounded by an army of soldiers turned to stone, cradling the dying body of their little human. Sobbing and scolding the other angrily through his tears at such a stupid act, trying to save an immortal from some pain when he himself is just a mortal, sobbing harder when Virgil doesnt even react due to the silver arrow that had pierced through his back and through his heart in an act of panicked self-sacrifice.

-in addition to that scene, Janus shakily pressing a kiss to Virgil's forehead, and it being a single call to the rest of the Pantheon and beyond, a request to be granted, a debt ready to be repaid.

-Thomas being the one to take Virgil and grant him god status, God of protection, defense, and sacrifice. Its a very gentle process, his long hair doing that pretty floaty thing and everything.(And that maybe becoming a normal attribute to certain strands of his hair bc why tf not)

-the first thing Virgil does when he wakes up amongst the Pantheon, is search for Janus, trying to make sure hes also okay. Janus just sinks to his knees and tucks the other into his hold and breathes a shaky breath, replying with "I'm more than okay, now."

-just, any God of the Pantheon gently tilting Virgil's head up by the chin, softly brushing his long bangs out of his new deep purple eyes with their fingers, tucking those bangs behind his ear and cupping his cheek, tilting their head down and oh so gently kissing him, giving him plenty of outs if he wants to take them and even letting him lean up that last inch in reciprocal consent.

[2manyfandoms2count]

A blog request from the @mlwritersguild ! Hope Anon sees it and likes it. It was a great prompt to write!

Warning: 75% of this hurts a lot, although nothing's graphic. I was feeling very angsty when I wrote it (and now I cry when I hear OneRepublic's Wherever I go). Happy ending, though!

---

Disappearing Act (AO3)

The magical ladybugs engulf Paris in their tornado and rubble falls back into place in puffs of dust, clearing the streets. Ladybug runs, tracing back her footsteps, until she finds what, or rather who, she is looking for, standing alone in the middle of the road, looking slightly disoriented.

“Chat Noir!” she yells as she picks her pace up to a sprint, hurling herself at the black-clad teenager in front of her.

Her voice has him turning towards her, and he barely has time to process the red and back bullet coming at him at full speed. His eyes widen and he manages to catch her in his arms without them both falling over. He feels her crying against his shoulder, and his arms instantly tighten around her.

“Shh, my Lady, it’s okay, I’m here,” he whispers soothingly as he strokes her hair.

Her head is buried against his chest, her body shakes with sobs, but her hands are balled into fists, striking his shoulders. Her punches are slow, void from the strength he knows she’s capable of, and he knows she doesn’t mean it.

He knows he’d deserve every one of them, though. His heart is still beating too fast from his jump to protect her earlier. He hadn’t even thought about it, his legs carrying him until the blast hit him straight in the chest. Everything had turned black.

Ladybug pulls away and looks up at him with tear- and anger-filled eyes, and he can’t help but think how beautiful she looks. He wipes a runaway tear from her cheek and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, smiling tenderly at her. Oh, the things he’d do for her.

“You have to stop doing that! I thought I’d lost you,” she says through gritted teeth.

He knows it’s to keep more tears at bay.

“I’m sorry, Bugaboo.” He means it. “I pawmise I won’t do it again.” He doesn’t.

A loud crash a couple of streets away and her earrings' insistent beeps bring back their focus to the matter at hand. The Akuma is still running around, and Ladybug’s first Miraculous cure may have brought Chat Noir back, but not so much time. Ladybug wipes her eyes, takes a shaky breath, and stands taller. She doesn’t make a move to leave, though.

“I’ll hold them off, you go restore. I’ll see you later?” He picks her hand up, winks, and his lips gently brush her knuckles (the gesture is imprinted in her brain, she’s replayed it so much), like everything is going to be okay. He runs off, turning around one last time before he turns a corner, to flash her a confident smile.

Everything isn’t okay, though. Later finds the Akuma defeated, the Miraculous cure cast again, yet Ladybug is collapsed on the floor, clutching a lone, silver ring, at the exact spot where Chat Noir had stood a mere moment before.

As she screams into the void, she barely registers the rain that starts pouring down in a thick curtain, mingling with her tears, and part of her wonders if they will ever cease from flowing.

---

Minutes. Hours. Days. Weeks.

Time passed so slowly, yet so fast. Chat Noir wasn’t the only one who didn’t come home on that fateful day. Or the next. Or the one after that.

There’s an empty space in class, right in front of Marinette, and although it could be a coincidence, she knows deep inside that it’s not.

Alya is supportive, and so is the rest of the class, but they don’t, can’t understand the extent of her despair. Nobody can, after all.

The other disappearing act is pulled by the one and only Hawkmoth. She’s surprised, yet relieved, yet furious not to see purple butterflies around anymore. Has the man suddenly grown some morals? Does he draw a line at murdering a teenager?

Because there’s no other word for it, and she knows he knows it, as she fiddles with the ring that now sits on a piece of yarn around her neck. It’s long enough that no one can see it, but she knows it’s there nonetheless, and the cold metal against her skin soothes her. As she holds it in her darkest hours, she can feel Chat Noir’s presence, and she knows his probable disapproval is the only thing keeping her from going on a rampage to find Hawkmoth and make him pay for his actions.

Instead, she does the thing her partner would approve of; she gets dressed in all black, and finds her way to the Agreste Mansion. Nathalie hugs her like she needs it just as much as Marinette does, and the teenager understands from the little she says that Gabriel finally realised how much his son meant to him. Marinette gives her a bitter smile at the news. If only it could bring him back.

A month goes by. Ladybug stops patrolling. It’s too painful to sit at the top of the Eiffel Tower, alone. To get flashbacks of all the battles they fought together anytime she lets her stare linger a little too long anywhere. To walk on rooftops knowing he’s not going to hop at her side at any minute. To feel her heart beat faster every time she sees a flash of black out of the corner of her eye. To feel the pain that invades her chest when she realises it was just a shadow.

More time passes. Mayor Bourgeois issues a communication out for her. A statue in honour of the fallen hero is to be unveiled at the Tuileries. He hopes she will be there, and possibly give a speech.

The day comes, and she hadn’t planned on speaking. She’d tried to imagine what she could say, but everything was too painful, and she couldn’t find the words, nothing felt worthy of him. Seeing so many people turn up, though, some she recognises, a majority she doesn’t, all united in their grief for one person, her person, makes her find her way to the microphone.

She sees the hope in their eyes. She opens her mouth. Closes it. Feels the sting of tears.

She turns around to regain her composure, and is faced with the statue. She hasn’t looked at it properly yet; she couldn’t bear to.

There is Chat Noir, standing in all his glory, wearing a confident grin and seemingly ready to jump into action. She wishes he would.

Behind him, Adrien sits cross-legged, a hopeful smile on his lips as he looks up towards the skies. She can almost hear him singing. She wishes she could.

Taking a shaky breath, she turns around to face the crowd.

“I don’t know where to start with Chat Noir. He infuriated me, so much. He was reckless, which got him in the end. But he was also a great partner. The absolute best. He was kind, caring, and so, so lucid. I… I loved him for it. He didn’t hesitate in the face of danger. A month, twenty three days and a couple of hours ago, he sacrificed himself. He did it for Paris. For us. May this statue be a reminder of him and what he stood for. Faith in Good. Selflessness. Justice.” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “I learned at the same time as you did that Chat Noir was Adrien Agreste. I’ve had time to think about it, and it makes sense that there weren’t two people as amazing as they were, that they were the same purr-son.” She tries to chuckle, but more tears spill out. She knows he’d like it, though. “He juggled his career, school, and a mask. Let him be an inspiration to us all; never back down from anything you’re passionate about, if it can make you happy. You might be afraid of launching yourself, but eventually you’ll just feel freer. That’s what being Chat Noir brought Adrien: freedom. And rest assured that I’ll still be there to make sure the freedom of this city remains. I’ll be there if Hawkmoth ressurfaces, or if Paris needs me in any other way. Even though it’s hard to imagine how I can go on without Chat Noir by my side, I know it’s what he would have wanted. And I know he’ll be with us in spirit, too.”

She chokes on her tears and has to yoyo herself out to avoid her tear-stained face to be on the front page of every magazine the next day, and to escape the question that’s on every reporter’s lips; will Chat Noir be replaced?

She doesn’t understand how people can even think about it.

---

Marinette waits until the dead of the night to make her way back to the statue. She brings flowers, this time. A red rose, which she tucks in Chat Noir’s hand. A peach rose bouquet for Adrien’s lap. Hyacinths and forget-me-nots, which she deposits between them both, amongst the multitude of flowers that cover the base of the statue.

Sorrow, regret, but also love, gratitude and memory. She wishes she could do more.

It’s late, she has school in the morning, but she can’t bring herself to leave. She walks around the statue a couple of times, tries to dislodge a black cat that has elected Adrien’s lap as his sleeping pad, before sitting on a park bench, facing them, facing him.

You promised you wouldn’t do it again. Her stare silently accuses him.

I know, my Lady. She knows him well enough to know exactly what he’d say.

You left me all alone.

I’m so sorry. She wishes the statue would come alive, and he’d come and hug her. It doesn’t, of course.

Whatever happened to you and me against the rest of the world?

There wouldn’t be any of that without you either, would there? She can almost see his sad smile.

Paris needs you.

They need Ladybug more. He’d counter.

I need you. A tear rolls silently down her cheek, just as many have before it. It hovers at the edge of her jaw before collapsing on her thigh. I can’t believe I never told you, I should’ve said it out loud every day, at every occasion. I love you Chaton, Adrien, the name doesn’t matter. And now you’re gone, and you’ll never know. More tears spill out. She brings her knees against her chest, wrapping her arms around them and buries her face in them.

“Hello, m’lady.” She looks up at the sound of the soothing voice. Her vision is blurry with tears, and she knows it’s just a trick of her imagination before she even sees that the scenery hasn’t changed, apart from the light breeze that picked up, taking a couple of fallen leaves in its stride, but she can’t help it. Whatever happens, however much it hurts, she’ll always look, always hope. She shakes her head, pressing her forehead against her knees, and takes a deep breath.

It’s getting late. She should probably get going. A sleepless mind (not that she gets a lot of rest anyway, but every minute counts) will only play further tricks on her, and she doesn’t need that.

“That was some speech you gave.”

Her head snaps up, and this time, she wipes her tears.

She might be sleep-deprived enough to hear the things she wants in the wind, but this is too real. She wasn’t expecting it, either.

The night is still. The cat has lazily lifted its head from its paws, and for a second she wonders if it spoke to her, but it’s not facing her, and this is real life. Cats don’t talk. Right?

She pinches herself. Maybe she fell asleep on the bench.

“You know how much I love it when you speak passionately.” There’s a tender smile in the voice now. She remembers it so vividly.

A figure steps out from the shadow of the statue, almost sheepishly. The teen doesn’t look at her directly, so she doesn’t recognise him at first. His dishevelled black hair, leather jacket and ripped jeans are unfamiliar.

Then his green eyes meet hers, and she’s home.

“Y-you,” she stammers, trying to stand up, but she feels her knees buckle under her.

He’s at her side immediately, catching her in her fall and helping her sit back down.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this,” he says while she touches his face, making sure that she isn’t dreaming, that he’s okay, that he’s alive.

She answers by hugging him like her life depends on it (and maybe it does), feeling her tears make a comeback. He rubs soothing circles on her back. It’s exactly what she needs, what she’s been craving for the past months. He’s here.

“Why?” she croaks against his chest. The question is cut short by a sob, but he understands all of its layers nonetheless.

Why did you leave? Why did you leave me? Why did you pretend to be dead? Why did you not let me know? What you were planning, then that you were okay? Why are you back?

“I… I overheard something. Not then, but during a previous Akuma attack. Hawkmoth asked his minion to spare me. Adrien Agreste. The Akuma was confused, and asked him to confirm. I couldn’t make sense of it at first, but the more I thought about it, the clearer it became that Hawkmoth had to be someone close to me, or to my father.” Marinette feels his body tense and holds him tighter. She’s not letting go of him anytime soon. “And then that day, when I saw what the rays did… I had to seize the opportunity. If I could just… disappear, lay low for a while, then maybe…” he trails off.

“Maybe you could get to the bottom of it.” Marinette sniffles. “I get it. But were you safe? It’s been months, Adrien. Where did you go?” She withdraws a little from his arms to look up at him with worry-filled eyes.

He seems taken aback by her questions. “You’re not going to ask me about what I found?”

“Adrien, I’ve just found out that the person I love most in the world, the person I thought I’d never see again but by looking at this damn statue,” she points towards it, but her eyes stay locked on his, angry tears gathering in her eyes, “is alive, I need to know you’re not about to collapse or disappear all over again. I couldn’t-” Her voice catches.

“I know.” He interrupts, cupping her cheek tenderly. “You’ve been so strong, my Lady. I promise you, I’m fine. I had some cash saved up, it paid for a small half-board hotel in the 20th Arrondissement, no questions asked, my makeover, and of course, my stalking.” His thumb stills on her cheekbone as he processes her words. “But wait, did you just say that you love me?”

A month ago, Marinette would have blushed and stammered in response. Today, her response is unwavering.

She grabs him by the collar of his jacket and their lips crash together. It occurs to Adrien that this is his first kiss with Marinette, Ladybug, he’ll hopefully remember. He makes sure to commit every last detail to memory.

It tastes like tears (hers, at first, and then, theirs - they’re all happy, though). Desperation. Disbelief. Thankfulness. Love. He hopes she feels it from him, too.

He takes it all in. Her chapped lips. The way she’s pulling him closer, clinging to him to keep him close, as if he’d ever run away from this. How soft her hair is under his fingers.

Nobody’s ever going to take it away from him.

When Marinette breaks off, leaving both of them panting, Adrien is awestruck. He knows it’s too soon to joke about being able to die happy, but the thought is there.

“So…” Marinette’s hands untangle from his hair to rest on his chest. “Now that my feelings for you are elucidated, and that I’ve established that you seem to be fine, how about you tell me if your disappearing act was at least worth it?” She sniffles a little.

“Marinette, I’ve just had the lights kissed out of me by the girl I love, and you expect me to be able to make a coherent sentence?” He nudges her nose with his.

“I just need to know you’re not going to disappear on me again,” she whispers.

“I purr-omise, my Lady,” he replies earnestly. “Never going to run around and desert you ever again. Not if I can help it.”

“Shut up.” She lets out a small giggle, her first in ages, and punches his shoulder lightly. A pun and a questionable reference. Her kitty’s back alright. “As if that wasn’t a coherent sentence.”

“Maybe the sentence was, but you’ll have to admit the thought wasn’t.” His smile vanishes as he looks around them. “Seriously, though. I’m not sure we should talk about it here.”

“Fine.” She gives him a small smile, and kisses his nose. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready, and we’ll deal with it.”

“You and me against the world.” He smiles.

“Forever.”

She buries herself in his arms once more, and they stay on the park bench until their heads start drooping. Even as they leave, she can’t bring herself to let go of his hand, and it doesn't take a lot of convincing for him to go home with her.

There’s no way she’s letting him out of her sight again. Not if she can help it.

[bowieandqueen11]

Walls / Dan Torrance Imagine

Request: So, I absolutely love your Dan Torrance imagines! I also love Doctor Sleep as well! Could I request an imagine where the reader (her name is Rebecca, by the way!) and Dan are married. Dan is worried that his beloved will be harmed by the ghosts of Dan's past and he will protect her at all costs. Dan also survives the whole ordeal! Make it as long as you can and feel free to change anything if you need to! 💙 

This is for my wonderful friend @thebeckyjolene, I really hope you’re doing well today darling!

I tried to do a bit of a different writing style with this one, so if you enjoyed, comments are always appreciated! :)

Dan Torrance didn’t remember these walls.

The building, perhaps. The lights, the furniture, the shadows that flickered in the corner of his eyes as he turned and twisted round the wall’s corners: yes. The walls themselves, though, seem distorted. Changed. Taunting. 

Or perhaps, he realised, it was all a matter of perspective. All a matter of eyes. He wasn’t sure whose eyes he was looking through right at the moment: he was just a little, insignificant squeak in the back of his head. How ironic, he thought. How ironic that all these years I’ve locked them up, safe and tight in these boxes, and yet now I’m the one trapped inside my mind instead. With each passing face, the walls that wound towards Room 237 seemed to shift, the decorations sometimes vibrant, outmoded, the next second the wallpaper crumbling and peeling and decaying, splattered with blood. 

He knew he couldn’t hold out much longer. Each stamp of his boots along the tile seemed to drag him just that little bit further into the belly of the beast - each pound echoing across the ground suckering him just that little bit more, until he began wondering where his shoes ended and the floors of the Overlook began. 

The floor. The floor. That he remembered. That grotesque, repugnant shade of orange that cornered in the red hexagons. How long he had spent away from the company of his parents, staring at that floor and wishing he could just go home. The days when his feet would barely touch it, and he would fly, knowing in his heart that he was trying to escape something. The ghosts, or his father, he wasn’t still entirely sure. Perhaps, in the end, there was no difference really. He swallowed thickly, passing the elevator that gleamed white in comparison, still as fresh looking as the day he had arrived here. Despite his face, he still couldn’t bring himself to look at it properly, trying to hold his shudder as he drew himself back from the hotel and bumped his knee against one of the cushioned seats he had seen in his nightmares every night since he was five years old.

He never thought he would hear your feet run across these same floors, speeding along the path his tricycle used to take down the looping corridors, both filled with the same unknown, foreboding dread that they weren’t going to like the shadows that appeared behind them as they turned the corner. They weren’t going to like the consequences of opening doors, of wakening ghosts that were only too riled up to be disturbed. Yet neither of you could help it, the hotel knew only too well how to draw its victims in. He managed to strangle out a sob at the thought, his gut wrenching cries the only thing to be heard in the hallway as his hand pulled and grasped at his jacket, trying to pull himself back. His wife, the light of his life, the only thing in this world he couldn’t bear, wouldn’t allow to have torn away from him again. The Overlook only laughed at his threats, his grievances, whispering in his ear that it was his turn to be the caretaker now.

She must take her medicine, after all. Just like the rest. Rebecca must take her medicine.

And so the door to Room 237 swung shut for the second time that day. In rhythm with the hinges, the beat of an axe hammered against its wood as it closed.

‘Rebecca...Rebecca you need to run. I can’t- I can’t hold them off for much longer. I can’t... I can’t hurt you... I can’t do it.’

The sight of you standing on that mouldy purple carpet was enough to bring tears springing to Danny’s eyes. With the last mount of energy, and desperation he could muster, he forced every cell in his body to stop moving. Slowly, yet surely, his knees still bent and he took a further step towards you, axe now dragging familiarly along the ground. 

‘I won’t leave you to the same fate as your father, Danny. This isn’t you, this isn’t us.’

Your husband, his face paling with each step towards you, sneers, lips unnaturally curling up at the corners. He readies to swing his axe, thumbs tight against the wood, but his hands slightly falter just as it reaches his shoulder.

‘What would you know about us?’

You reach up towards him - your Danny, your husband. You could see him struggling, little beads of perspiration on his forehead, and eyes scrunching closed in absolute agony. Your fingers land on his cheek, and you can feel the muscle ripple under your touch, but in all the exertion you don’t miss the slight tilt of his head towards your touch. 

‘I know you’re a false face, and that you don’t understand who you’re pretending to be. I know my husband, and he’s strong, and he’s brilliant, and he’s so unbelievably kind. He could never hurt me-’. you reach over his shoulder to tug on his left hand, not letting go until your hand brushed over his wedding ring. His ring finger shook against yours, face seeming to blur and melt against and within itself like new snow. Yet, his hold on his axe began to slip, until it finally fell onto the floor. ‘More than that, he’s smarter than you will ever be.’

‘What- what do you mean?’

‘You, false face, had better start running. It’s only a matter of time before the belly of this place eats you up as well.’

Something akin to familiarity begins to brighten his eyes, and your sense of hope flickers again in your stomach as you feel his fingers twitch against yours. Suddenly, he seems to shake himself awake, gasping as if awakening from a horrible dream. He nearly falls away from you, but your thumb digs into his skin until he collapses back down onto your shoulders. You can feel him shiver as he holds you, but you don’t let go. You knew the strength it had taken him to chase away his ghosts, to keep you safe from everything within himself, and the only way you could think to return the favour was by letting him clutch onto your jacket until his breathing had settled.

‘There you are’, you whisper into the shell of his ear. ‘There you are.’

‘I’m sorry Rebecca’, he gasps out, pulling away until you can see how quickly his eyes are blinking to draw away the tears. He half-laughs, half-sighs as his weary fingers cup your cheeks, rubbing little circles into your skin. ‘It was the only way I knew I could keep them from getting to you. I was... I was just afraid. I was so afraid they would get you too.’

You inhaled sharply, tugging slowly on his fingers as if asking him silently to follow you. To trust you. And he did, with all his heart, he did. He would wander these walls for the rest of his life if you had asked him too.

Instead, you try to smile up at him, but it ends up looking like a pained grimace more than anything. ‘It’s alright, it’s alright, but we need to go now Danny. We need to run.’

He felt a pang in his heart, knowing that nothing in this black hole of a place would ever let him leave. Not really. It had consumed his father, it had consumed him, and he would be damned if he was going to let it take his wife without him giving a proper fight. Without him giving every last piece of himself he had to give, until he knew you had escaped.  

‘But the boiler-’

‘It’s already taken care of. You mumble so much in your sleep about this place, I think I could switch them on with my eyes closed’, you chuckle.

‘Come on, it’s time we finally leave these walls to smoulder.’

[giant-sketches]

A Place to Belong

Finally have a nice Short Sides story done for you all to enjoy! This one has been on the back burner for a long time. I believe the prompt for this one came from @iggyalfi2319 like forever ago. XD Disclaimer: Crying/Fighting/Panic

This story includes 2 sketches

Word Count: 2392

Patton was never born to be a warrior. He was big yes, but more of a big sweetheart on the inside. Instead of fighting like the other giants he enjoyed his time outside with the flowers and animals. Violence simply wasn’t part of his inner nature, therefore, he was exiled from his homeland and sent to wonder. Patton didn’t mind though as every new place he explored was an adventure, however it was a lonely one.

A month passed without encountering a single soul, which might be for the best as Pat stood at a towering 200 feet tall. If anyone did see him they would most likely flee in fear. That would be so heartbreaking to witness! Yet, destiny seemed to have other plans when Patton did in fact run into a village that was almost completely secluded inside the forest he had currently been traversing. He hid himself in the shrubbery to watch the tiny people going about their day.

“Oh wow. Look at all of them!” Patton had never seen humans before. His eyes were filled with wonder. However, the shout of a guard who had spotted him through the thicket threw him into a full blown panic! “GIANT!!!”

Oh no! The surprised giant fled for his life, trying his best to not cause the ground to shake. Sure, he was in no real danger, the humans were much smaller than him; however, he didn’t wish to scare them by staying. Eventually, he came to a fluorescent cave, big enough to house him as he caught his breath. I haven’t been followed right? He looked around and sighed after confirming there was no one but him and the flora. What was he to do now though? Patton laid down, curling up on the cool cavern floor whimpering. Those humans looked so scared, even though he was just watching.

His heart ached at the creeping realization that there truly was nowhere he belonged in this world. “Why was I born like this? It’s not fair! I just wanted to be friends and help if I could.” He began to softly sob, unaware that he was being tracked by a mysterious hooded figure.

“He’s taken shelter here it seems.” The skulking figure glided his way into the cavern, not making a sound as the sound of sobbing echoed off the walls. Gingerly, he peeked out from one of the tunnel entrances and saw the giant he had been following on the floor in tears. It was...uncomfortable. Should he reveal himself now, or let the giant get it all out first. The mysterious man was not good with socializing, but he needed to be brave. Taking in a deep breath he took a step out of the shadows and spoke, “H-hello.”

His voice was no louder than a whisper, however Patton heard him clearly as he twisted his body up to a sitting position. The weeping giant stared at the figure, curious as to why they had revealed themselves, but also fearful of their intent. Was this a human from the village? Why were they here and how? Had he been followed and were there more hidden? Pat curled up a bit trying to look smaller, despite his enormous size.

“Ah, wait, i-it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you a-and it’s just me. I promise.” The figure raised his hands to show he was unarmed and took a few steps closer.

“Why are you here then? I-I didn’t mean any harm to the village or the people living there, I swear! I-I just wanted...I didn’t want to be alone any more.” Patton cried out as he pressed his knees to his chest and hugged them.

“I know. With your size you could have done whatever you wanted to us, but instead you ran away. You’re not like other giants are you?”

Patton nodded, starting to calm down and wipe his tears away. “I...I don’t want to hurt others. I just want to help and find some place I can live in peace. So please, please don’t be scared.” He whimpered into his hands.

The hooded figure, now close enough to rest his hand on Pat’s leg. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not scared. If I was I wouldn’t have followed you here and revealed myself.” Patton giggled a bit, “I suppose that’s true. Still, why are you here little one?” “I wanted to talk to you. I’m also...different.” “Different?” The man hesitated for a moment, but then lowered his hood to reveal a pair of pointed ears, along with his unusual purple locks. Patton’s eyes went wide with how beautiful the stranger was and blushed. “You...are you a half-breed?”

“Yeah, I’m a half-elf to be exact. My appearance is a mix of both and so I’m seen as abnormal among my fellow humans. They aren’t bad people, they just aren’t very open-minded sadly. Usually, I can get by with just wearing this hood to hide my features, but the thing they really can’t stand is my use of mag-”

“YOU CAN USE MAGIC!?” Suddenly, the man had been picked up by Patton and brought closer to his face. Pat, all the while with sparkles in his eyes. The stranger smiled as he made an orb of light appear and float around him. It was the most amazing thing the lonely giant had ever seen. “Wow.”

“I’m Virgil by the way.” “What? Oh you’re name! You can call me Patton.” Virgil blushed, this was nice. Being appreciated for his talent for once.

“It’s nice to meet you Virgil. Thank you for coming here and talking to me. I feel a lot better now.”

“I’m glad. You don’t deserve to be alone like this. I of all people know what that feels like.” His eyes lowered in melancholy thoughts of the past.

A past of losing his parents in the fire, being ostracized by the village, and having to hide his true self. It was painful and many times he thought of running away, but where could he go? Just then Virgil felt a large and soft surface pressed up against him. It was Patton’s finger rubbing up against his side to comfort him. “I can tell you’ve had a hard time, being different from everyone around you.” He went silent in his thoughts, gazing between Virgil in his hands and his current surroundings. “Y-you’re not scared right?” Virgil chuckled, “You’re asking me that now?” “I...just need to be sure.” Patton blushed, feeling embarrassed and closing his eyes. That’s when the sensation of tiny hands wrapping around his thumb made him focus. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave unless you want me to.” Pat’s face must have turned into a tomato as he simply nodded and gently brought his new little friend to his chest for what could only be interpreted as a hug. “Thank you.”

Patton was warm, like really warm as Virgil snuggled into his shirt a bit. The moment was pure bliss as the two felt so at home with one another. Yet, events outside were now coming to end their tender moment together. A large shockwave rumbled from above them.

“W-what was that?!” Pat exclaimed, now guarding Virgil in his hands and crawling out of the cave to take a look. “I don’t know. Do you see anything?” He looked around quickly and froze at what he saw. “The village! It’s being attacked by a dragon!” “WHAT?! Are you kidding me? What is a dragon doing all the way out here?” “I-I don’t know, but we need to do something. There’s no way they have anyone strong enough to fend it off.” “Can you fend it off?” Patton wasn’t sure really. Again, his combat experience was miniscule, but he was still a giant. Even though the dragon was big, he was bigger! “I can try, will you help me?” Virgil smiled, “Of course Patton. What do you need?” What did he need? “Buffs, can you cast any buffs on me?” The tiny sorcerer did know a few spells for buffing, but there was one he found when exploring an abandoned house a long time ago that might be just what they needed right now. “Yeah! You go get it’s attention and all start casting. Drop me off at that cliffside real quick. I have to be able to see you to cast it.” “Alright!”

With a plan in motion, Virgil was left to draw out the casting circle as he watched Patton tackle the monster away from the village, slamming it into the foot of the mountain. He had a good 50 feet on the beast, but the difference in height didn’t scare it away. It could sense how much of an amateur Pat was as it lunged to take a bite. Luckily, Patton was quite agile and could dodge the attacks, for now at least. Each second was a battle of survival. The friendly giant calling out to the cowering people to get to higher ground and keep in groups as they made their way into the forest to hide. Not too far where they couldn’t still watch to see who would be the victor though.

“The circles done! Now to start the chant.” Virgil took his position in the center of the circle and began casting. “Nascuntur, crescunt maior quam. Imbui possent immensa” Three times he said this as a light glow began to cover Patton’s body.

It tingled as he felt more and more power enter into him. It wasn’t long until he noticed he was growing bigger and bigger. He gave a heavy gasp when it was all done and his body relaxed. Patton felt stronger now! Quickly, he looked around to find the dragon...but it was gone?

“Below you!” Came a familiar voice. It was Virgil! What did he mean by below though?

Curious, Pat looked down to find a now very tiny dragon quivering at his feet. What in the world!? Freaked out, Patton tripped over himself and landed on the mountain, taking out half of it with his now enlarged body. He was HUGE! “What? What happened to me?!” He was scared and confused.

“Patton! It’s okay, it’s just the spell. It increased your size and strength by ten fold.” TEN FOLD?!?! Wait...that meant he was ten times his usual size. He gulped, “Then, d-doesn’t that mean I’m now 2000 feet tall?” Virgil went silent, but nodded. Oh boy. Patton turned his attention to the dragon once more. The poor thing was now too terrified to even move. “You poor thing. Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” It was strange looking at the creature in a tender manner now after that fierce battle.

The dragon titled it’s head, but could tell Pat didn’t mean any harm as it bounced up his body and started nuzzling into his neck like a kitten. It was adorable! Still, what was he going to do now? This spell wasn’t permanent was it? In his worrying, the titan hadn’t even noticed the village people returning and coming over to him. Virgil did though, as he hurried over using some wind magic to help him glide down. He landed perfectly on Patton’s knee and took a moment to take the giant’s new size all in. He truly was enormous!

Pat felt something land on him as he looked up to see Virgil sitting on him. “Virgil! Are you alright? I know doing high level spells can tire someone out.” His concern was really cute. “Yeah, I’m alright, but what about you?” “Well...I defeated the dragon, or more so made it my pet I guess.” He giggled, though still uneasy. “Virgil, um, this isn’t permanent is it?”

There was the question he was waiting on, but really didn’t want to answer. “Yes and no. There is a reversal spell, I just don’t know it.” Virgil mumbled out sheepishly. Meanwhile, Patton’s blood ran cold as images of his new reality flashed before his mind. A monster beyond belief! He started to shake and choke on his sobs. In a panic Virgil slid down the giant’s pant leg and started climbing up his shirt.

  “Pat, no, please don’t cry. It’s going to be okay I promise. I’m so sorry I did this to you!” He pleaded constantly as he climbed. Patton hiccupped as he wiped his eyes to see his tiny friend’s frantic face. “It’s not your fault. You were just doing what I asked.” 

Gently, he pinched Virgil up and placed him on the bridge of his nose. “At least you’re still here with me Virgil. I’m so afraid of never being welcomed anywhere because of my size, but at least I have one person who accepts me.” “That’s right. No matter what size you are, I know you’re a very kind and warm person Patton.”

 Virgil leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Patton and began rubbing the bridge of the nose to soothe the giant. Pat blushed and let himself enjoy Virgil’s touch. Then more tiny hands reached out towards him. It was the villagers, petting his hand. “Thank you! Thank you so much for saving us!” “We would have died without your help!” “You’re not hurt anywhere right?” “We’re so sorry for chasing you away before.”

Continued praise and concern left their mouths as they kissed his hand and rubbed it in circling motions. Patton was stunned that they had all come so close to him and even more thanked him for his help. “You all...y-you’re not afraid of me? Even though I’m so much bigger than before?” “Of course not! You're our savior along with Virgil. We know now you never meant us any harm and we apologize greatly for our poor behavior towards you.” “Same with you Virgil. We realize how we’ve been treating you for the past years was unacceptable. Could we start again?”

Virgil huffed a bit, but floated down nonetheless. He looked at the people and their worried faces, but then extended a hand out to them. “If you’re willing to change and accept us both, I suppose I can’t say no.” The villagers rejoiced! They sang and cheered for their heroes! Finally, after his long journey, Patton had somewhere he belonged and someone who loved him.

The End

@thought-u-said-dragon-queen @sanderssidestrash27 @nomynameisanon @crystalk17 @notkolaidoscop 

[xwasted-days]

𝖘𝖆𝖋𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 || 𝖇.𝖍.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

A/N: It’s probably been done before, but I wanted to throw together a little song-fic based on Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift ft. The Civil Wars. I’m sappy and I like sad things. Also, this is my first tumblr fic, pls be nice. Requests are open and I have no tag-list, because it’s a new blog. 

Work Count: 2, 276

Complete Story Warnings: Major Character Death, Pure Angst, 10/10 sad. Also, probably language. 

The battle of Starcourt was turning in favor of the party and all therein, but war was never without casualty. 

Billy Hargrove had a questionable character and reputation among most in Hawkins. People wanted him as a friend or a fuck, and those that didn’t wanted him gone. Few succeeded in ever knowing Billy as more than the sad little king of his sad little hill, and even fewer knew the plights he faced at home. A minimal two: Max, the step sister, and Y/N, the girlfriend, who rushed into the center of the mall behind Mike Wheeler, unable to help as Billy threw himself in El’s path. Y/N moved before her mind could register: scrambling forward when Billy caught the mindflayer’s clawed gullet in his hands. Those beautiful, calloused hands with the feather-soft touch. She took another step forward, faltering as a tentacle dug into his left side, the sickening crunch of torn flesh and splintering ribs echoing in the building silence. The second hit came and she rushed forward again, slipping on fragments of broken glass. Y/N’s knees hit the ground hard, the sharp sting barely registering as the hits kept coming, clawing all around his torso. He screamed each time, every cry cutting off in a strangled garble at the sharp shock of another tentacle landing its blows. Billy screamed, daring the monster on, and Y/N screamed, begging it all to stop. 

The final blow landed in the center of Billy’s chest, silencing him. Max’s scream sounded somewhere behind her. 

As the mindflayer pulled away, thrashing, snarling, wailing in defeat, Y/N ran forward, slipping in rapidly pooling blood as she pulled Billy to her chest. 

I remember tears streaming down your face, when I said, “I’ll never let you go.”

The words, even as they left Y/N’s lips, felt like the deepest and most real thing she’d expressed since the moment he was taken by the mindflayer. 

Since the darkness had fallen over Hawkins, she’d felt vacant, plastic, unreal. She supposed the notion came first when Barb had gone missing; when the trio of sub-popular girls was first fractured. Everything seemed to fall apart until Y/N found out what really happened to Barb, what was haunting Will Byers, and what hunted the people of Hawkins.  

Life was a ceaseless ebb and flow of highs and lows; still, she never expected the tide to pull away as it was now. Nothing could compare to this feeling: her boyfriend tucked in her arms, fading away before her, was what would cause the tidal wave to break. 

Cool and fragile, the rapid thundering of his heart beneath Y/N’s palm, the salt of crystalline tears sliding off his angled pale, cheek, his hand gripping her arm as he clung to waning life. Billy opened his mouth, hoping for any words to form. None did. He felt the pain with each blow, but as the creature yanked itself away and Billy fell, there was no sensation. Nothing but an icy numbness. After his mom left, Billy prayed for nothing more than to lose his feeling, and now it was gone he wanted it back. 

He wanted it back because he wanted to stay with her. He’d always known he was a selfish bastard, but this instance wasn’t for himself. It was for her; his Y/N. The only girl he gave a shit about for longer than one night at a time. And now, he was going to lose her. “..I-” he struggled again, shivering in her arms. 

When all those shadows almost killed your light

“Shh,” Y/N cooed, bringing her hand up to brush sweaty, blonde curls off of his forehead, ignoring the scene that played out around them. Billy was never meant to get caught in this crossfire; he was meant to be as he always was: cocky, stupid, young and reckless. Seated atop his lifeguard seat, staring out over the crowds of Hawkins Community Pool as a king surveyed his kingdom. Instead, he was out there, vulnerable to to the upside down, taken as so many others had been.

Y/N glanced down at the gaping, bloody hole that forced the pale colored fabric of the shirt at Billy’s chest to dip inward, the rich, viscous, and sickly stain making her stomach churn. She bit hard on the inside of her cheek, a meager attempt at staunching her tears as she played strong for Billy’s sake. She felt his hand at her arm give a squeeze, her attentions drawing back toward the boy in her lap. Y/E/C eyes connecting to Billy’s steely blue ones again, she offered a shaky smile, her thumb smoothing along the arch of his cheek. 

I remember you said, "Don't leave me here alone…"

Billy’s voice was soft and hoarse, barely audible as the commotion of the party and the mindflayer fizzled on around them. The fair haired, beautiful boy Y/N had fallen so deeply for let out a soft grunt of protest at the ache, his body twitching involuntarily as pain coursed through him.

“Think you can get rid of me that easily, ya little shit?” Y/N asked with a gentle chuckle, keeping her shaky grin to ease Billy’s worry. Her tears flowed more freely now, slipping down her cheeks as she held him close. “Gotta try a whole helluva lot harder than that, Hargrove. You and me. California, remember?” 

The broken king of Hawkins High put on a woozy, pale-lipped smile and hiccupped on a sob, coughing after. A soft mist of blood peppered his lips and chin, staining his teeth crimson. California, their would-be paradise, far away from Indiana and all their worries. He’d sworn up and down that they would leave one day, go back to his home and flourish in ways unimaginable. His promise now seemed as broken as he was. He was fading. Y/N didn’t have enough time.

But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight.

The flutter of Billy’s heart was growing more and more faint, and the beats, which willed themselves with great difficulty, grew slower and slower in their efforts. 

Billy leaned his weight further into Y/N’s body, slack and woozy. All the coherency in his head fading. She had promised that wouldn’t leave, said she wouldn’t let go, but she had. Or hadn’t she? He could hardly tell, his vision fading in and out, gleams of purple and pink, the hazy sound of distant chatter. Billy felt his chest heave with a great gasp, and his jaw open and close with the effort of breath. It happened again, and again. He felt hands on his arms, squeezing, but he couldn’t register the effect of the sensation. He was cold, so cold. He wished so vehemently that he could ask Y/N what was going on, but Billy couldn’t seem to find his tongue. 

That’s a first, he thought, trying to squeeze back the person in his numbed fingers. Every bit of him was so cold, probably frozen from where he had been, lost in darkness with the delicate snowfall. He was sure another erratic breath would leave him in shards. His head lulled to the side, hardly-seeing eyes registering the plume of Y/H/C and a small streak of fiery red. He searched between them, hoping to register on either of the faces that peered down on him, but none came. He coughed, gagging on something oozing in his throat, feeling hands tighten and voices raise. 

Soft curls of blonde hair fell over her his forehead, even as Y/N pushed them away, shifting his weight so Billy’s head was more firmly pressed to her chest. He was growing more and more still, even as she and Max begged him to stay. The girl took a breath, fighting down the body-trembling sob that wedged in her throat. “Billy? Wake up, Billy, please?” She asked, watching a tear of her own fall down to slip against his cheek, rolling down onto his stubbled chin.

Billy took a deep, shuddering breath, so loud he scared himself. He'd forgotten to breathe, and the muted voices he heard in his haze kept him there. Her voice. The voice he listened to in the quiet solitude of a shared bedroom, or in the crowded halls of Hawkins High. The voice he grew to love before he could even remember what love felt like. The voice he wanted to hear for the rest of his life. 

He blinked, trying to clear the tears in his eyes, focusing on Y/N and Max hovering above him.

“....I’m sorry.” Billy shuddered as his eyes glossed over,  a sudden cloud overtaking his vision. The clarity of the world was fading into shapes, then shadows, and careening rapidly into darkness. There was a loud bang somewhere near him and had he retained the strength, he would have jumped. Another bang. And another. One, two. One, two. One. Two. One. Two, each pair of beats getting further and further apart. Billy breathed out, defeated, overcome by the realization that those noises were thuds of his heart stopping. He couldn't see, he couldn't feel, he couldn’t taste anything but the heavy black goop on his tongue, he could only smell the coppery, acrid stink of blood that clogged his sinuses. All that was left was hearing; Billy was caught listening to the terrible, awful rhythm of his once-small heart, stopping. He listened again, hoping to hear the voices, praying they would draw him out of it, but there was no sound. Nothing. Not even the beating of his heart. Just his remaining consciousness, slowly going black. Billy Hargrove was dead, he knew. He wanted to scream, to panic and cry, but nothing was there. 

He didn't see the light that everyone blathered about, he didn't feel the peace. He was the hollow, lifeless shell of a boy who could have been more than a lifeguard with an attitude problem. And he was dead. And he left her behind. 

His beautiful Y/N, whose voice and smiles and touches were forfeit to the darkness that consumed. 

Don't you dare look out your window, darling, everything's on fire. The war outside our door keeps raging on. Hold onto this lullaby, even when the music's gone. 

Y/N  felt the final, sickening beat of Billy’s heart beneath her hand. Another tear fell onto Billy’s face, then another. And another. Max whispered, begging her step brother to wake, her small hands shaking his bloodied shoulders to no avail. A hard, broken, centuries old sob tore through Y/N’s chest and echoed through the mall; the cry of everyone who had lost someone they loved for good. The cry that begged death to return a loved one to the land of the living that always fell on deaf ears. 

“Billy, please,” she whimpered, trembling fingers soothing the lifeless skin of the boy she loved. Every thought, hope, wish, and dream connected to him was gone, dead as he was. 

Jagged orange patterns began to dance on the ground all around them, and offered the girl nothing but a ghastly illumination along her lost lover’s gaunt, pale face. It made him look hollow, as if no happiness, no mischief, no curiosity had once been lurking behind those coy, gorgeous eyelids. His once tanned, golden flesh was sickly and pale, the adonis within snuffed out forever. Y/N  snarled and sobbed hard, holding Billy closer, hiding him from the sickening yellowed light of the fire that grew.

She heard feet scramble around as the party gathered, their footfalls echoing like hard beat of the drums of war.

Villains never prevailed. Heroes never lived. No one was ever truly saved. Y/N’s shoulders caved and shook as she sobbed, broken and holding onto Billy’s body. Stifling a hiccup, she sighed sadly and started humming and rocking him back and forth; their song mumbled on tear-stained lips. She was chained to her place on the ground, lost. 

She didn’t see the others there, she couldn’t hear their words. She didn’t take notice when Max hid her face in El’s shoulder and sobbed for her lost brother.  

The world around her was crumbling into vacant nothingness and Y/N felt herself heave with another sob. She leaned back, her blood stained fingers gently brushing the infallible, pure flesh of Billy’s cold cheek, smoothing the tears she’d left there away with another broken whimper. “I love you…” She whispered longingly, her voice needy and raspy. 

A hand pressed to Y/N’s shoulder. It didn’t matter whose it was. It wasn’t his. And she hated that it pulled her back. The distant thrum of helicopters rattling in the skies, the sobs that left Max as she cried, the soft sniffles that sounded from El as she sat in mourning solidarity with her friend. Steve’s voice low as sirens began to wail in the streets. 

“Y/N. We gotta go,” Steve said, joined at her flank by Robin, whose thin hand came to rest on Y/N’s arm. She didn’t move. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t leave him. Another sob leaving her, Robin leaned forward to rest her head on Y/N’s shoulder, rubbing her arm gently as she could, tears flooding her own eyes as she looked across to Steve’s battered face. 

Harrington hated Hargrove with all he had, but he didn’t deserve this. Y/N didn’t deserve this. Nostrils quivering as he fought to keep strong, he gave Robin a solemn nod. Together, they helped place Billy on the ground where he fell and pull Y/N back, consoling her as she cried. 

Just close your eyes. The sun is going down You'll be alright.  No one can hurt you now Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound.

[dimigex]

Beautiful, Perfect Disaster - KakaSaku

A03, FF

This is an old piece that has been waiting on me for too long. I've decided to start lightly editing the mostly finished pieces I have to clear out doc. Also, @birkastan2018 I believe we talked about this story once, and you wanted to see this whenever I finished it!

The sun sank beneath the horizon, gold and orange deepening to purple or blue as stars fought their way through dusk. Kakashi sat at his desk with a stack of paperwork beside him; the words had begun to blur together. He stubbornly refused to admit that his vision wasn't what it had been ten years ago. Thirty-three and already an old man, Kakashi thought. He blamed it on the stress of raising genin, then leading the village; it had nothing to do with age.

Truth be told, Kakashi should have gone home hours ago. The summer sun set well after the end of the day for most office jobs, but he wanted to try and get ahead of his workload. It kept his mind from wandering to all the things that he didn't have. There was no one for him to rush home to, no one who cared if he spent an extra three hours working on reports, or even stayed at the office all night.

Popping his neck, Kakashi rose and removed the Hokage's robes. The hat rested on an empty chair on the opposite side of his desk. He only wore them when necessary, but hadn't bothered to change back after his last meeting. Even the newly designed jonin armor felt more natural, though he wasn't wearing that beneath the robes today. The charcoal grey pants and undershirt were comfortable enough since he'd planned to be at his desk all evening. It wasn't as if half a dozen Anbu wouldn't appear at the first sign of danger, anyway.

With one glance at the work still piled on the desk, Kakashi turned toward the door. He started to open it, then stepped back in surprise at finding a figure in the shadowed hallway. Sakura glanced up at the sound, lip caught between her teeth and eyes puffy from crying. Kakashi did a double take, hating the way his chest tightened at the sight of her. When he said her name as a question, the girl forced a fragile smile onto her lips. Then, her facade crumbled, and a single tear slipped free of her left eye.

The protective barrier shattered, and Sakura threw herself forward with a sob. Kakashi managed to catch her awkwardly, if only to keep them from falling to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Her arms curled around his middle, body achingly warm in a way that had nothing to do with the summer heat outside. Belatedly, Kakashi realized that Sakura wore jonin blues and no armor over it. He struggled to suck a breath around the lump in his throat. "What happened?"

Tears spilled out of Sakura along with broken words. "Sasuke said I'm too clingy and needy, that he's already told me that we'll never work together. And he has, I shouldn't have tried to get him to spend time with me when he was back in the village. I shouldn't have-"

The next words were muffled when Sakura hid her face against Kakashi's chest. As the dampness of her tears bled through his shirt, hot anger stirred in his gut. Kakashi normally prided himself on his ability to divorce emotion from his life, but not this time. Sakura's hands tightened, and his heart hammered hard enough that he feared Sakura would be able to hear the sound. He struggled to draw breath through his constricted throat.

Thankfully, heartbreakingly, Sakura pulled away and wiped her eyes with trembling fingers. "I'm sorry. You must think I'm being terribly childish."

"Not at all," a voice that sounded very much like Kakashi's answered. Then, it continued. "I think he's a fool who never deserved you in the first place."

Sakura's green eyes widened. She pulled back until they stood half a dozen feet apart: Sakura shy and embarrassed and Kakashi conflicted by the truth he hadn't meant to say.

Her eyes searched his, looking for Kami only knew what, then she nodded. "Thank you for saying that."

"It's true." Kakashi had more control over his voice this time, but barely. "What you have with Sasuke isn't love; it's not supposed to hurt this way."

Heat flared between them, and Sakura closed the distance to glare up at Kakashi. "And you're an expert on it?"

Of course not, Kakashi thought. Look at how poorly I've handled this. For months, I've felt something, but I refused to admit it until it came spilling out like poison. Kakashi couldn't say that. Sakura's anger wasn't directed at him, anyway. He could bear the brunt of her fury if that's what she needed. He could bear a lot of things. "I know enough to see that this isn't it."

Kakashi knew that he'd made a mistake when Sakura looked at him with a mixture of pain and disbelief. The room spun, and he thought that he might be sick. He fought the nausea down and took a half step in her direction. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Sakura spat. Somehow, she drew herself up, towering over Kakashi in her fury. "For lecturing me about something you don't understand? For acting like you cared about me? For-"

"For falling in love with you." The words hung between them for a moment, louder than the echo of Sakura's anger.

Kakashi had never looked squarely at the thought, never viewed what was happening between them as more than general protectiveness. But now, he knew it for what it was. He let out a breath and closed the distance between himself and Sakura. "I'm sorry, but you deserve someone who won't put you second or third or fourth every time."

"And, that better is you?" Sakura's voice changed in a way that Kakashi couldn't quantify. It had a breathy quality, an uncertainty, but he couldn't read the tone over the buzzing in his ears. "Is that what you mean?"

Kakashi forced out a humorless laugh at the suggestion. "No."

"You're just like Sasuke," Sakura accused, stepping into Kakashi's space. "You throw that word around so easily that it doesn't mean anything."

"I am nothing like Sasuke," Kakashi ground out, biting off each word. Icy numbness and burning anger surging through him in turns.

Could Sakura honestly believe that Kakashi would say something like that to make her feel better if he didn't mean it? That he'd make up a lie to help her forget the stupid boy who had never loved her or protected her the way that she deserved? Sasuke had always been more empty words and broken promises than anything else. Kakashi had broken only one, one that he made to himself months ago.

It would be easy to cross the line now, everything was falling apart anyway. Kakashi could pull Sakura back against his chest and show her how inadequate words were. Except, he couldn't bring himself to do so. He's already said far more than he should have, more than he ever thought he'd have the opportunity to say.

Sakura looked up at Kakashi through teary lashes, eyes red and puffy. She didn't speak at first, didn't respond to the venom in his voice. Then, she challenged him with her stare. "Did you mean it?"

The hope in Sakura's voice made Kakashi ache and his lungs clench. "I can't-."

Before Kakashi could finish his thought, Sakura scoffed and turned away. HIs hand caught her wrist, gentle enough that she could pull free if she wanted to. Then, a voice that sounded so much like Kakashi's spoke without his permission. "You deserve more than I could ever give you."

Sakura exhaled and leaned in enough for Kakashi to feel the residual heat from her body against his. Her hands came up and brushed Kakashi's cheek, pulling a soft sigh from his throat. Emboldened, she hooked her fingers in the fabric of his mask. Sakura paused at the whispered warning of her name, fingertips slipping away from the fabric, then asked, "did you mean it?"

Kakashi couldn't deny the truth, not with those brilliant green eyes shining up at him. "Yes."

Rising on her tiptoes, Sakura pressed her lips to Kakashi's, the fabric of his mask between them. The tentative brush made his knees weak, especially when her hands slipped down to his shoulders. Closing his arms around her felt like the most natural thing in the world as the room tipped around him.

Kakashi waited for some sign that Sakura felt the same, some indication that everything had changed, but she didn't speak. He took courage from the fact that Sakura didn't pull away at least. Kakashi raised one hand to trace the delicate curve of her lips and felt the shiver that raced through her body. He couldn't breathe through the fabric of his mask, so he lowered it.

Sakura's eyes remained squeezed shut when Kakashi lightly kissed her forehead. He whispered against the skin, hardly recognizing his voice. "I didn't mean to make things more difficult. If you don't feel the same, we can pretend like this never happened."

"Can we," Sakura asked Kakashi's chest, head dropping forward to rest against him.

When Sakura's eyes didn't rise to meet his, a swirl of anxiety twisted through Kakashi. His heart pounded hard enough to break his ribs when he hummed in agreement. "If that's what you want."

The words came easily, but Kakashi didn't know if they were true. He had only recently started to realize that the anger and fury he felt when Sakura talked about Sasuke went beyond friendship. If she turned away from him now, he would accept it, but things would never be the same. He feared what the kiss had done to their relationship, even as he longed to pull her closer.

Kakashi didn't push Sakura for an answer. He waited without speaking until she lifted her gaze. Sakura paused, taking in both the familiarity and foreignness of the face that she'd seen through a mask for so many years. Kakashi forced himself to smile like his entire life wasn't hanging on her answer.

Sakura's hand came up a second time, tracing the bare skin. It took every ounce of self control that Kakashi possessed not to pull her tighter. Then, with aching slowness, she rose to kiss him. Colors exploded behind Kakashi's eyelids at the warmth of Sakura's lips against his. The curve of her body beneath his hands, the touch against skin so unused to it-everything left the room spinning.

They parted slowly, just enough to draw a breath but Kakashi couldn't stop the way his head tipped back toward Sakura's. He tasted her breath on his lips and almost crossed the line a third time. In that instant, he knew that he would never be able to go back to just friends. This moment, no matter what came from it, would be cemented in his memory forever. He would never be able to look at Sakura without remembering the soft curl of her hands in his shirt or the pattern of freckles he'd never noticed across the bridge of her nose.

After a moment, Sakura let out her breath in a whoosh that made Kakashi's knees weak. Then, she looked up and smiled so beautifully that it made his heart skip a beat. "I want to know if it's ever more than empty words."

A dozen flippant replies rose in Kakashi's throat, but he quieted them at the memory of what drove Sakura to his arms in the first place. None of his replies would have been enough to convey the depth of what he wanted to say. He raised one hand to brush her cheek, then slid down to tilt her chin. Sakura sighed when Kakashi met their lips together a third time, a breathy uncertain sound that knotted his stomach.

For a moment, Kakashi felt trapped on the edge of a precipice with logic and safety on one side, the unknown spanning below him. He tightened the arm around Sakura's waist, pulling her closer as he surrendered to the dizzying emotions spiraling through his chest. If Sakura needed something more than words, he could offer actions.

Kakashi poured every ounce of withheld longing into his touch, dropping his walls in a way that he'd never done for anyone else. Sakura melted against him, every perfect inch of her body pressed against his. Kakashi threw himself over the edge and plummeted through the heartstopping freefall.

It took Kakashi a moment to realize that his hands had drifted low enough to lift Sakura from the ground, and a longer second to realize her legs were wrapped around his waist. Electricity pulsed through his body as he stumbled back toward his office until she bumped into the edge of his desk. Sakura's fingers tangled in Kakashi's hair, inviting him to follow her backward.

Bracing his palms on either side of Sakura's hips, Kakashi pulled back to gasp in a desperate breath. The space gave him the clarity that he needed. He wanted Sakura more than he'd ever wanted anyone else, more than anything. And, he knew that was the exact reason to stop, before he didn't have the strength to do so.

Kakashi leaned his forehead against Sakura's, surprised when she didn't object to the sudden stop. He drew another shaky breath before attempting to speak. "I don't want this to be tangled up in your relationship with Sasuke. I don't want to be the one you run to when it's bad only to have you promise me that everything's better the next day. I don't want-"

Sakura pressed a finger against Kakashi's lips. "I know."

Darkness poured through the windows behind Sakura when Kakashi turned his gaze toward them. She drew him into a gentle kiss that held only a flicker of the earlier fire. "I don't know what to say," she confessed in a soft whisper that made bile rise in Kakashi's throat. "I never expected you to say these things, I never knew that I wanted you to say them."

The woman glanced away, a blush coloring her cheeks as she continued. "I just-can we take things slow? I don't want any of the things you mentioned either, but I know that I don't want to leave this room not knowing if I'll ever feel this way again."

"What are you saying," Kakashi questioned, leaning more weight on his hands. He would take whatever Sakura gave without a hint of disappointment, at least until she left. Only then would he allow himself to feel the pain. He braced for the truth, that she wasn't ready for more or that she'd just gotten caught up in the moment.

Sakura raised a hand to run her thumb along the scar that had taken Kakashi's original eye, tracing the path the mask normally hid. He fought the urge to pull away when she followed the curve of his cheek, and turned instead to lightly kiss her palm. The blush on her cheeks deepened. "I'm asking you to dinner later this week," Sakura finally answered.

Kakashi couldn't stop the chuckle that rose in his throat. None of her words even remotely suggested that, but he wanted it enough not to care. "Only if you'll allow me to walk you home tonight." The corners of Sakura's lips pulled down, but Kakashi quickly added, "just to the door, I promise."

Snorting softly, Sakura nodded and Kakashi offered a hand to help her jump down from his desk. Fire scorched through his entire body at the connection but he forced himself not to react, especially when her fingers threaded through his. By the time they'd reached the street, Sakura pulled away and walked beside Kakashi like she'd always done. But, he couldn't shake the thought that nothing would ever be the same again.

[tim-burton-bitch]

Tw: pre-romantic prinxiety, breakdowns, crying, semi-shitty writing, I think cursing this has been sitting in google for a while I wrote this back in like early November at 3 am let me know if there's any others oh and FWSA spoilers

This was written at like 3am and follows a headcanon of Roman having synesthesia in which he paints and describes sounds as imagery and an idea from a comic (unsure who wrote it) where Janus never actually told the dark sides his name this is hurt/comfort right after SvS Redux this also follows the fact Virgil is CENTER BRAIN FIGHT OR FLIGHT IS THE AMYGDALA GUYS CAN SOMEONE ELSE PLEASE DO CENTER BRAIN VIRGIL CONTENT I'M STARVED OF IT anyways and my headcanon that he is also in charge of things that either trigger anxiety or are triggered by anxiety such as depression and neuro-diversity my take on the purple eyeshadow and semi-soft side of Virgil my second oneshot takes place in this same timeline and can be found here

Word count: 2,485 words

Virgil was in his room listening to his music. He had his sketchbook across his lap, his art case was open beside him. Currently he was half way through Soft Shock. He wasn't particularly listening, it was more for background noise than anything. He was humming along absent mindedly drawing as his mind wandered.

Suddenly he snapped back to reality as he felt the bed beneath him sink down with sudden weight. He looked up startled instinctively covering his art, which he now realized was a profile of Roman. He looked to see said prince he had just been drawing in front of him. Roman was looking down at his hands. It was quiet for a moment, Virgil was just about to ask what the hell Roman was doing there when the Prince began to shake. Virgil was speechless as the small shakes quickly turned into jerky sobs. Virgil stared at Roman for a second before closing his sketchpad and reaching a hand towards to crying prince.

"Princey, hey Princey what's... what's wrong?" Virgil didn't understand. He had chosen to stay in his room and calm down instead of taking part in the video. The wedding hadn't gone well and Thomas wasn't the only one thoroughly upset about it. Virgil hadn't thought anything of his decision figuring Thomas could vent about it all on his own to the others. The anxious side needed some down time to calm both his and Thomas' nerves. Now. He was beginning to question the decision.

At first Roman gave no response. He just continued to shake letting tears slip out. Virgil's hand never moved from his shoulder. Being the side in charge of Thomas' amygdala meant he knew how sometimes you just needed to cry a moment with company. With no judgment, no constant pushing to know what's wrong. Just a shoulder to cry on as you gather your thoughts.

Roman looked up. His eyes met Virgil's and he took a shaky breath. "I-" He felt another wave of tears hit him. He paused trying not to cry anymore than he already had. He felt embarrassed. He had meant to come here and invite Virgil to another Disney marathon. Take his mind off of what had happened. Instead he broke down. An how was that fair on Virgil?

"Shhh it's ok take your time. There's no rush to tell me what happened. If you don't want to tell me that's fine too. Sometimes you just nee company, a shoulder to cry on. Believe me I understand. Tell me when you're ready and only if you want okay?" Virgil's voice was soft and understanding. And yet. He didn't sound condescending in the slightest. Roman had never heard Virgil use this tone of voice. It was calming. He felt.... safe and... listened to. He nodded his head realizing Virgil was still waiting for a response of some kind. Virgil gave him his small sweet smile that never failed to melt Roman's heart.

Roman took a deep breath before saying, "I-I do wanna tell you Virge... I do. I just..." He swallowed back another lump of emotion. He couldn't even explain the problem. What was WRONG with him? And yet, despite Roman never finding the words to explain... Virgil's eyes were understanding. Soft and warm, looking at Roman so invitingly. Roman hesitated before leaning in and clinging onto the anxious side in front of him and sobbing. Virgil was startled and Roman clung to his body. He was used to being the one breaking down and he wasn't sure how he could help much. Then again, he WAS the one to break down usually. What helped him? Or what did he wish people would do to help?

Virgil slowly wrapped his arms around Roman's head. Pulling him down into his lap. Letting the fanciful side bury his face into Virgil's shoulder. He softly began to run a hand through Roman's hair, hoping this didn't upset the prince more. He began quietly calming the man in his arms whispering into his ear that he was here. And he wasn't going anywhere, no matter what happened he was there as Roman needed him.

Roman pulled back swiping at his eyes sniffling quietly. He looked down at his lap sniffling once more before murmuring "I-I'm sorry." Despite having pulled back he was still directly in front of Virgil, who was still leaning against the headboard now giving him a questioning look. "For... for this. For... whatever THIS is...." Roman trailed off looking back down at his shaking hands. "It's- it's stupid... I don't know why I'm crying really, I-" he trailed off again.

Virgil leaned forward placing his hands over Roman's to calm him. "Roman it isn't stupid. Whatever this is about clearly bothered you a lot and your feelings are entirely valid no maatter-”

"NO! Virgil it isn't fair on you I'm just bothering you with my problems and you had nothing to do with any of what happened. It isn't fair on you for me to drag you into my problems!" Roman cut Virgil off tears beginning to well up in his eyes again. Virgil stared at him. He was stunned and the look on Roman's face hurt Virgil's heart more than anything ever had.

Virgil sat up properly, taking his hands back to do so. He brought one hand back forward to grab one of Roman's the other reaching out and cupping the prince's face. "Hey, shhh.... it's okay, I promise," Virgil's whisper was soft and comforting as he slowly wiped away a few more stray tears from Roman's face. His other hand rubbing circles comfortingly on the back of Roman's, "Roman whatever bothered you really is valid. And I'm not upset you came here. In fact it's the opposite. I'm glad you trust me enough to come to me with this." He paused, "Roman. You can come to me whenever you need to, whenever you feel like this. I'll listen when you need to vent and I'll be here when you break down. I am HAPPY to help you in anyway I can so please, PLEASE don't invalidate your feelings or think in anyway this inconveniences me. Or bothers me or anything, okay? Can you promise me that?"

Roman was quiet, he stared into VIrgil's dark warm welcoming orbs. Slowly he nodded. Virgil smiled, "So, did you want to tell me what happened or just sit and watch something or whatever?"

Roman laughed, his heart was still heavy and felt weighted down but he couldn't help it. The laughter was short lived though, he let out a sigh as he rubbed a hand down the side of his face. Taking a deep breath in he turned to Virgil and asked, "Do you think lying has it's place?"

Virgil looked at him questioningly as he shifted suddenly a tad uncomfortable. "Well..." he started. Thinking on his answer. He hummed thoughtfully, "Is this about lying as a concept or about Deciet?" he asked suddenly.

Roman looked down and sighed again, "Both I guess...." he turned towards Virgil, "Janus stopped by today during the video. And things got a little complicated, and now I'm confused and don't know what is right or wrong. Everything is upside down and Patton Logan and Thomas are agreeing with Janus and- a-a-and I feel... useless. And I don't know...." He sighed tears streaking down his face again, "I was meant to be Thomas' hero. But lately... I feel more and more like I'm steering him wrong. I-"

Virgil cut Roman off suddenly, "Okay great that we're making headway and all, but... I'm going to have to ask you to backtrack a second before we dive into the angst." Roman looked puzzlingly at Virgil who was quiet a second before asking, "Er... Who- who's Janus?"

Roman stared at VIrgil unsure if he was joking. But Virgil's face was purely confused, his head cocked to the side just slightly, eyebrows knit together one slightly raised his left eye the slightest bit closed and a small pout on his lips. Roman's heart stuttered as he continued to stare at Virgil in astonishment. "Has... has Deceit never told you his name is Janus?"

It was Virgil's turn to stare at Roman, "No???? He hasn't???"

Roman laughed, "I could HEAR the multiple question marks in your voice! Oh my God!" Virgil continued to stare before bursting into a fit of laughter himself.

Tears formed in Virgil's eyes as the shadows beneath his eyes became a brilliant purple. He brought his hand up to rub the mirth from his eyes. "Oh my God! I mean we ARE gay!" he laughed. His laughter cut short when he noticed Roman was staring at him.

Suddenly realizing he didn't have his usual foundation and concealer on with his black eyeshadow to cover those awful freakish markings beneath his eyes he quickly stopped laughing. Romans eyes were still on him and Virgil began to panic.

While Virgil had this realization Roman was having two entirely different realizations. One being that he never heard Virgil TRULY laugh before. He had yet to even fully redgistered the purple shadow that was suddenly black again, far to caught up in the sound of Virgil's laughter ringing in his ears. God, he could listen to that sound until he died and never grow annoyed of it.

"Virgil- You- your laugh! I've never heard it before! I mean I've heard you chuckle and snort sometimes but... WOW...." Virgil stared at the man in front of him. The tone used by the fanciful side before him describing his laugh made his heart skip a beat. He could feel the shadow beneath his eyes going purple and his face going pink.

"I- I guess... I don't know... it's not like it's anything special.... kinda... loud and annoyin really..."

"NONSENSE!! Virgil your laugh! I- I don't even know how to describe it! It's like... like the sound of waves crashing against the cliffside, with the wistling of wind as you walk along a cliff overlooking the sea, JUST before a storm, that breathtaking sound which breaks the ear clogging silence caused by the overhanging clouds. And yet, it IS the ear clogging silence that you enjoy with the sound of the crashing waves and wistling wind." As the words flew from Roman's mouth Virgil's blush deepend his shadow growing all the more purple. Until it was so vibrant there was no missing it even in the darkly lit room. "Virgil... your eyeshadow. Wasn't it black when I came in? Surely I would have noticed by now if it was such a wonderous purple as what lies beneath your eyes now," Roman's calling attention to the shadow caused Virgil to panic once again and the shadow to go a deep black, confusing Roman all the more. "Virgil what? How?"

"I- well- um..." Virgil's voice was small as his heart rate increased.

"Virgil it's okay, you can tell me whatever it is. I promise!"

Virgil took a deep breath turning away and hiding in his hoodie pulling up the hood. He glanced to Roman's awaiting confused face hands fidgeting with the hoodie's strings, "I-" he sighed, "The shadows under my eyes aren't eyeshadow... at least, not right now. They're a part of me, and tied to my emotions they go purple when I'm happy... the happier I am the more vibrant the purple.... When I'm anxious start panicking over overthinking something... they go black, the more panicked I get... the darker they are." Virgil nervously glanced up at Roman who looked shocked. "Normally... I but on foundation and concealer to hide them, and then some black eyeshadow so if I forget to put makeup on or can't be bothered or someone comes across me when I don't expect someone to... they won't question why I suddenly have 'eyeshadow' beneath my eyes. I don't worry about it going purple because honestly... I never expect to be happy. I know it's- it's weird and I'm a fre-"

"VIRGIL THAT'S AMAZING!"

"Wha-"

"I mean not the part that you don't expect to be happy because that's just.... NO! But the rest of it? It's amaing! I love it! Not only does it look cool (in both black and purple) but then I can tell when you're truly really happy! And when you need a good Disneython! I'm assuming that when you're more happy than paniced it's still purple and wheen you're more panicked than happy black?" Virgil nodded. "And what about other emotions? Is it black or purple then?"

Virgil smiled, he always thought they wer freakish that the shadows were just more reminders that he was a freak, but Roman... Roman LIKED them. Virgil couldn't understand why he did, they were weird, but the way Roman's eyes lit with excitment, so starkly different from the dampened ocean filled eyes he had arrived with. "They tend to then settle for whatever I feel closer to then."

"Well I don't see why you cover them up, I love them. I think you should go out without makeup more often," Roman smiled at Virgil before letting out a laugh. "I just remembered I was going to tell you what happened with the video! But I think it can wait till later I wanna try to keep that purple there as long as possible! How does a nice Disneython in my room sound?"

Virgil grinned back at Roman, "That sounds great. And maybe... maybe I will! Go out without makeup that is." Roman laughed, "Oh and... thank you, Roman. For... making me feel less alone, and less like a freak." Virgil gave Roman a small sweet smile before standing and heading to the door. "BET I CAN BEAT YOU TO YOUR RO-" Virgil paused his shouting as he flung open the door and almost ran into Patton.

"WOAH!" Patton cried out, "Slow down there kiddo! Have you seen Roman? He left the video upset and I've been looking for him since and it's been- oh... hey Roman! Are you..."

"Yeah I'm fine Patton," Roman said from behind Virgil with a small smile of his own, "Thanks to Virgil here!"

"Well I'm glad though I wouldn't mind talking to you and apologi-"

"Maybe later? Patton? Virgil and I were about to go have another Disney marathon in my room!"

"Alright kiddos you two have a PatTON of fun then! Would you like me to bring food up to you or will you two be down for dinner?"

"We'll see Popstar, text you the answer later?" Virgil asked grinning feeling the shadow which had gone black when Patton startled him slowly but surely fading to a purple.

"Alright kiddos as long as you two actually eat this time! And not just popcorn!"

"Alright Patton! See you later!" And Roman and Virgil walked away heading to the prince's Disney covered room laughing and teasing the whole way.

Tag list:

@on-fic-writing-spree

[ghostofstudentspast]

Obligatory (part 3)

Series masterlist

Warnings: a panic attack in the first half.

I am BACK! I finished this baby up this morning and while I won’t be posting as frequently anymore because of college I’ll still be posting/finishing up all my wips!

For the first time in your life, you would have given anything to stay at Hogwarts during the Holidays. Your house had lost its warmth and instead every shadow started to look like a ghost to you. Your father only left his study for dinner, where the three of you sat in uncomfortable silence as knives and forks scraped fine china. Your mother seemed light years away. She could often be found cleaning things unnecessarily, staring off into the distance and only ever casting you soft smiles that didn’t reach her eyes.

You could feel how the weight had shifted in the Pureblood community. Everyone was on edge and keeping secrets from each other. Christmas was a lackluster event in your house this year. Your mother had insisted on a tree and family dinner, but things felt strained. Not at all like the laughter filled Christmases you remembered growing up. Your mother had purchased an absurd number of expensive gifts, as if that would make up for the lack of holiday spirit. Clothes and jewelry and expensive quills littered the dresser in your bedroom and you didn’t want to touch a single item.

“Darling?” Your mother’s voice broke through your absent thoughts. “We’re expected at Malfoy manor in thirty, are you ready?”

You were perched on the edge of your bed, hands clasped in your lap to stop them from picking at the dark red material of your dress. You were vaguely aware of your mother coming to sit next to you on the bed and taking your hand in her own. Her fingers were warm and helped pull you back down to earth.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t think-“she took a breath and didn’t continue.

All you could do was nod numbly as her thumb stroked the back of your hand. You hadn’t noticed your hand had been shaking until now. Raising your head to meet your mother’s gaze you saw how red her eyes were, how the purple bags were still prominent despite the makeup covering them, how she had faint tear tracks running down her cheeks.

“I know.” Your voice cracked as you nodded again, this time stronger.

“He’s going to be there tonight.” There was no need to say much more, her eyes betraying the fear that could never be voiced out loud.

“I’ll be good,” you offered her a lifeless smile, “I promise.”

The terrifying thought of seeing the Dark Lord in person hung over you all the way to Malfoy Manor. Stepping into the cold atmosphere of the ballroom did nothing to loosen the knot in your chest. Where once the parties thrown here had been lively, full of music and wine and chatter, now it was filled with hushed whispers and something stronger than wine.

“Can we talk?” Draco had appeared at your side like a shadow.

“No.” You didn’t meet his eyes and made to step away from him when a hush fell over the room.

There he stood, dark robes and snake slithering around his feet. The Dark Lord.

“My children,” his voice was high and sharp, “I’m so happy to see so many of you here tonight, proving once again who is loyal to our cause.” you doubted he had ever been happy in his existence.

As if he’d heard you speak his eyes locked on yours. A horrendous red colour, eyes like a snake, bored into your very existence. Your skin crawled and you felt like you might throw up at any moment.

“And our lovely bride and groom to be,” a smile creeped its way onto his face. It was less a smile and more a grimace. “The first in the new generation to follow in their parents’ footsteps. Wise.”

His eyes bored into yours and you could feel his magic pouring into your head. Pushing through your thoughts forcefully. Your heart rate sped up and your breathing hitched. The only thing that reminded you where you were was Draco’s hand resting on your lower back. You pushed all of your thoughts towards the back of your mind and focused on his finger tapping ever so slightly against you. You shot a glance at him and thought you saw his head shake the tiniest bit.

Legillimency, you could feel the Dark Lord prying at your memories. You knew he couldn’t go there, couldn’t know how disgusted he made you feel. You clenched your teeth and thought about the contract, you thought about marrying Draco, pushed the idea of loyalty forward with bile rising in your stomach.

“Continue with your festivities,” he finally broke eye contact and turned his eerie smile to the other guests as your shoulders drooped.

You felt exhausted. Like someone had just ran a bulldozer over your brain. He’d walked through your mind, through your thoughts. You’d never felt more exposed then at that moment.

“Excuse me,” you muttered to Malfoy and turned on your heel to slip away through the crowd of people.

Walking faster than normal you tried not to break into a run as your breathing became unsteady and panicked. You threw yourself into the large bathroom down the hall and threw the door shut before sliding onto the floor and letting out a painful sob.

Tears were streaming from your eyes as you desperately tried to control your breathing. He’d violated your mind. What if he’d seen something dangerous, you’d be endangering not only yourself but your family and friends. You sobbed pathetically, drawing your knees up to your chest and moving into the farthest corner of the room, away from the door. A soft knock at the door only added to the panic filling your veins. You shook your head and covered your ears, unable to breathe. Unable to tell them to leave you alone. Not even your sobs were audible anymore as you fought with your thoughts.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, he’s gone.” the voice was soft and kind and broke through your thoughts. You shook your head and kept your eyes squeezed shut. “Breathe Y/N. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” the voice repeated until you did what it said. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth.

Your breathing was shaky and didn’t quite fill your lungs but slowly you managed to control your air flow. Tears still running down your face and falling into your lap you uncovered your ears and opened your eyes. Across from you sat the last person you would want to see you like this.

“You’re okay.” Draco spoke softer than you’d ever heard him speak. You nodded, and he offered you a sympathetic smile. It wasn’t pity, instead it held understanding. “I get them too.” He confided without meeting your eyes.

“It’s new for me,” your voice was hoarse and sounded foreign to your ears. He nodded in understanding as you closed your eyes again, rubbing them with the palm of your hands, makeup smudged across your cheeks.

When you opened your eyes again Draco was gone just as quickly as he’d came in. The bathroom floor felt just a bit colder as you dropped your head back against the wall.

When you arrived back at Hogwarts the following week Draco made sure to give you space. You were grateful he hadn’t brought up the Christmas incident again and from the lack of pity in his friend’s eyes, you didn’t think he’d told them either. You did notice that he spent more time looking at you these days. He always wore an unreadable expression and his eyes still held a sharp calculating look but this time he was observing you.

It took a few days of him watching you for you to get fed up and resolve to talk to him. This is why you were currently following him out of the potions classroom and down the hall farther into the dungeons. He stopped about halfway to the Slytherin common room and rounded on you, arms cross and one blond eyebrow raised.

“Stalking me Y/L/N?” his lips almost quirked up into a smirk.

“Christmas, you said you wanted to talk to me,” you raised your chin, so you could look down your nose at him, “so talk.” If you kept up your snooty pureblood persona around him, it was easier to pretend he hadn’t seen the most vulnerable side of you.

“Right,” he let out a short laugh and shook his head, “I was going to tell you that I found something interesting in the Manor library over the break. It’s definitely not something we want to try as a first option but if you’re this desperate,” he dug through his bag and fished out an old leather-bound spell book.

“You found something to break the contract?” Your demeanor perked up and your eyes zeroed in on the book in his hands.

“Maybe,” his voice held an unspoken warning, “again, this is very much a desperate man’s last resort. Or in this case desperate woman.” He added seeing you fidget with your sleeves as he held out the book. “Don’t try anything without me.”

“Yeah, no of course not.” You snatched the book from his hand and immediately opened it to where Draco had folded the corner of a page. Skimming the title quickly you found your stomach rolling in unease, “This is blood magic.” You looked up at him with a frown.

“Yeah, which is why I don’t have high hopes for two underage wizards working it out safely.” He grimaced, “read it for yourself.” He motioned towards the book and turned to keep walking to the common room.

“No wait, Malfoy,” you chased him, still holding the book open to the folded page.

“I have bigger fish to fry Y/L/N,” he kept walking, his long strides taking him much faster than yours, “if you’re desperate enough to try blood magic, you know where to find me.” He sighed and left you standing by yourself clutching the book between your hands like your life depended on it.

Finding a free spot on a windowsill near the common room you began to read. The cold frost on the window had your wrapping your robed around you tightly as your eyes flicked between the pages. Blood sacrifice for magical contracts. No. Blood bonds and magical contracts. Also no. Breaking magical contracts with blood. Ah, that’s the one.

Magical contracts are rarely breakable. The witches and wizards who enter in a magic bound contract will be tied by said contract for the remainder of their lives. The only way to exit out of such a vow is for either party to pass on (ghosts cannot be held to a magical contract).

“I don’t want to kill him,” you rolled your eyes and kept reading.

It is therefore possible to trick the magic bond by imitating death. First, one or both parties must provide a vile of blood to be spilled on the original document. Second, one or both parties must take a dose of Draught of Living Death (instructions on pg. 66) and a half dose of calming draught (instructions on pg. 80) note; the users blood must be infused with both potions. These two potions will bring the user into a two-day long death-like state. This along with spilled blood on paper will render the contract useless as ‘one party will have passed on’ very briefly.

WARNING: taking too much of these potions or using too much blood can result in irreversible damage including but not limited to; loss of memory, narcolepsy, weakened magic, blood clots, death, etc.

You closed the book and stared at the cover as you tried to process what you’d just read. Basically, there was a very slim chance that you’d be able to pull this off and a very large shot at accidentally inflicting lifelong damage. Or death.Unfortunately, in all of your time spent researching, this was the only viable option you had come across.

How much are you willing to risk to break this contract?

Series Taglist: @xkonpinkx @detroitobsessed @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @pointlesscoconut @irlkell @thehumanistsdiary @mo-onstarrs @summer-writes @aplaintart @jjjmaybank

[thanatosangels]

Good

a three part Matthew Fairchild fic

part two and three coming soon.

TRIGGER WARNING: alcoholism, suicidal feelings, self injury

tags: @princesslucretia @churchthecatismyspiritanimal @booksandbeanbags @tyisthebestshadowhunter @simon-lewis-is-a-skinny-legend @truth-lies-hidden @abigneignenn @oscar-fairchild @themostawesomehuman @cecilyfightwood

1901

Matthew stood in the doorway of his dining room.

Tick. Tick. Tick. The grandfather clock marked the seconds dripping away into nothingness.

His mother was upstairs, in her bed, resting. 

Recovering.

Recovering from the ordeal she had been through the day before.

Matthew balled up his hands, digging his nails into his palms.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

His father was at her bedside.

Matthew knew, without seeing him, that his eyes were ringed with red.

He also knew that there were new lines, of worry and grief, on his father’s face.

He’d seem to age five years in a day.

Matthew opened his hands, looking down at them. 

He half expected to see them dripping scarlet blood, like Dorian Gray’s painting, but there was none. Just eight indents of white crescent moons. 

Tick. Tick. Tick.

He lifted his gaze towards to drinks cabinet under the window.

The late afternoon sun, low in the sky, shone through the crystal decanters which fractured and broke the light, scattering it across the floor like the pieces of Matthew’s heart.

He could hear his mother’s sobs, floating down from her bedroom.

He closed the distance between him and the cabinet.

Tick.

He reached for the middle decanter, the one with the pale amber liquid. 

The one that his father only poured very little amounts of, on very special occasions.

Tick.

With a trembling hand, he removed the stopper from the bottle.

A sweet, fiery smell filled his nose. 

It burned.

Tick.

Matthew brought the bottle to his lips, and swallowed.

His body wanted to choke, to spasm, to spit it out, but he would not let.

He was in control now.

He felt as the whisky branded his throat and made its way down to his stomach. 

It hurt, but he needed the pain. Any pain at all.

He needed to hurt like his mother.

Like his sister.

It seemed to cauterise the throbbing, bloody slashes across his soul.

The world swam at the edges. He felt lighter, like he could float.

Like nothing was real.

He took another swig. And another. And another.

_______________________

The worst part was his mother trying to comfort him.

She sat him down a few days later, in their drawing room. There had been none of the usual tidiness Matthew associated with his mother: the bags under her watering eyes were a deep purple, her brown hair was escaping the braid on the back of her head, her old tea dress was creased and slightly stained in places, with tea and jam. She looked so tiny, so fragile, a china doll that should have been wrapped tightly and kept in the box to save it from shattering. 

She reached out across their rose printed sofa, her delicate hand covering Matthew’s. Somehow, she looked older than she ever had, yet so heartbreakingly young at the same time. Matthew could not look at her. He kept his back straight and his eyes trained on the glowing embers of the dying fire in the hearth.  He wasn’t sure what she was going to say to him. He wanted her to scream at him and slap him and hit him and throw him out on the street for what he’d done to her, but he knew she would never. 

He knew what she did not. 

Matthew’s stomach lurched as he felt her take a breath, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the anxiety that was gnawing at his heart or the brandy he had been drinking just before she had come in. 

“I’m sorry, Matthew,” She said in a very small, shaking voice. “I’m sorry you will not get to meet your sister. I want you to talk to me, if you need anything. I love you, and I wish for us to get through this pain together. As a family.”

He shut his eyes so tightly it hurt, bowing his head as the tears began to fall. She was apologising to him. His poor, sweet, innocent mother. She was the strongest woman he knew, for here she was just days after her own tragedy asking to comfort him. 

If only she knew, he thought, who was truly causing her this pain.

He opened his mouth to tell her, to let the words tumble out. I did this. I did this to you. But no words came, just the air escaping his lungs in a hollow groan. She reached out and put her arms around him, pulling him to her, as he whispered over and over again “I am so sorry. I am so sorry, Mama, I am so sorry.” into her shoulder, apologising for an act she had no true knowledge of. She too was crying, her tears tumbling into his messy blonde hair as she stroked it gently, as gently as she had done when he was a child awoken by nightmares. 

He wrapped his arms around her and held her against him, breathing in her familiar scent of paper and fresh lilies. Nausea rose in his stomach like a tidal wave, his guilt as bitter as bile in his mouth. Now he knew for sure that it was his close proximity to his mother doing this to him, not the alcohol bleeding through his veins. He buried his face into her hair, grasping at any last wisp of a childhood that was now gone. 

That day, with the grey clouds hanging over London like a shadow and the wind making the windows howl in its wake, was the last time Matthew Fairchild ever held his mother.

_____________________

It had been two months. 

Matthew had found a way to numb the pain, and it lived in his father’s drinks cabinet. 

Everyday, he drank a little more of whatever he could get. He told himself it was only until the pain lessened, until it stopped feeling like pouring gin into an open wound, but he was not sure he entirely believed himself.

His mother was preparing to go back to work. His father was anxiously looking after her, or experimenting down in the basement. Matthew did not care where Charles was.

Matthew was making his way back to his room, his throat still burning from the sweet whisky, his flask half-full to keep him going throughout the day. He was refilling his father’s liquor bottles with water and apple juice, and though his family did not drink much, he knew this could not last. He did not now what he would do when they found out.

His vision was slightly blurred, every light just a little too bright, so he did not see Charles hurrying down the corridor towards him until it was much too late. The two collided, someone’s feet on someone’s toes, heads knocking together, Matthew’s open flask sloshing onto Charles’ white shirt.

“By the angel, you bloody idiot! This shirt was new!” Charles wiped his hands down himself, a look of disgust on his face. He looked so disgruntled that Matthew let out a small giggle.

“What, you think making me look like a slob is funny? What the hell is this anyway? It stinks.” Any amusement Matthew derived from the situation evaporated like water in the sun as Charles brought his hands to his face and sniffed. The anger on his face was chased away by confusion and then replaced by disgust. “Is this whisky?”

Matthew gulped, refusing to meet his brothers eye. He felt like his legs might give way.

“You disgust me.” Charles took a step towards Matthew, a finger prodding his chest. Despite their similar heights, in that moment Charles seemed to loom over him, his face thunderous. “Mother and father have been through so much already and you think it’s wise to drink yourself away?” He scoffed. “If they weren’t so grief-stricken I’d go and tell them what a little lowlife you are right now, but I don’t think you want to break their hearts any further, do you?” The question sent shockwaves through Matthew. He knew that there was no way Charles knew what he had done, but his heart still skipped several beats all the same. Charles brought his face very close to Matthew’s and, snarling menacingly, flattened his hand against Matthew’s chest and gave a small shove, which cause him to stumble backwards until he fell into a table near the end of the hallway. 

Charles rolled his eyes and turned on his heels. “Selfish brat. Go and pour that down the drain right now.” He called over his shoulder. “And don’t ever do it again.” 

Matthew leaned back against the table, his hands and legs shaking uncontrollably. He fought to control his breathing. He took a sip from his flask, which seemed to calm his nerves slightly. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

Matthew was always very careful after that.

[danzinora-switch]

Typing the Turtles (ROTTMNT) Part 2 - Donatello

This started out as an investigation into the turtles’ insecurities, because one thing the show does so well is demonstrate that they are still teenagers. And being a teenager is a confusing experience - there’s angst, drama, exploring one’s identity, a lot of growth, and overall figuring out who you are. That’s a messy process, too! And we see this mess in our turtles: they mess up, they’re learning, they self-doubt, they have fears and insecurities, but they’re also discovering their strengths and how to overcome their inner obstacles.

So after thinking about all this way too long, here’s my psychological breakdown of each turtle (I’ll be referencing MBTI and the Enneagram, but will include links for more general information on those if you don’t know what I’m talking about).

Donnie: INTJ, 5w6

The Architect, the Investigator, the Problem-Solver, the Observer

Firstly, getting into this analysis means that we have to step away from the stereotype that all INTJs are cold, aloof, and unemotional. INTJs, especially Turbulent ones, do express emotion, and we’ve all seen Donnie’s dramatic ‘theatre kid’ side. I’m not going to ignore that. He manages to be both thanks to the INTJ’s tertiary function Introverted Feeling (Fi). Extroverted Feeling (Fe) really allows one to connect and empathize with others’ emotions. Fi, however, is a more internal experience of feelings, and has trouble connecting with others without having been in their shoes. I happen to think Donnie is in a strong Ni-Fi loop, as well, which would make sense because fighting bad guys every day while trying to save the world after discovering a Mystic City which upbends everything you ever knew is pretty stressful. https://www.psychologyjunkie.com/2017/06/21/intjs-loop-understanding-ni-fi-loop/

And it’s super interesting that he often expresses his emotions by literally saying them. “Evil laugh! Relishing chuckle! Gasp!” (Mind Meld) and, one of my favorites, he literally says “Sad face emoji” in Many Unhappy Returns.

So while we DO see Donnie experience and display his own emotions, we also DON’T see him all that affected by other people’s emotions. He’s still pretty stoic in Mystic Mayhem after the delivery guy gets mutated, cracking a joke about imitation crab. He’s unaffected by Todd’s puppies in Repo Mantis, and the only one immune to Warren Stone’s sob story in Warren & Hypno Sitting in a Tree. Pizza Pit shows it best when he’s unaffected when Mikey’s favorite pizza place collapses until the same thing happens to him. Fi at work vs Fe.

As for Donnie being a 5w6, keep this core motivation in mind: “[Fives] Want to possess knowledge, to understand the environment, to have everything figured out as a way of defending the self from threats from the environment.” https://www.enneagraminstitute.com/type-5

Donnie at his Worst: Donnie vs. Witch Town gave us this gem of a line: “Because I’m the science guy! If mystic powers can do everything I can do, but better, then why would you guys even need me?” And while people have pointed out his need to be needed, I argue it’s a little more accurate to say he has a need to belong. His role in the group is the Brainiac, the Science Guy, the Smart One, and so his very identity is tied into fulfilling that role. A 5’s core fear is of being useless, helpless, or incapable. Mystic powers rendering his tech redundant, and thereby him useless, would be a pretty big threat to the security of his role in the group (that 6 wing kicking in). And remember a 5’s core motivation: to understand the environment as a defense. And he still doesn’t understand mystic energy. It’s pretty infuriating, so he’s pretty insufferable about it.

[Note: seeing mystic power as a threat probably didn’t kick in until their fight with Shredder in Many Unhappy Returns. Prior to that, his brothers were still learning how to use their magic weapons, but Donnie already understood his tech well enough to use it effectively (see their first fight against Baron Draxum in the pilot). But against the Shredder… all his tech was useless. Only the hanky, the hanky, was even marginally effective. His brothers’ weapons were now way more capable than anything he had to offer… core 5 fear. And to cope? Learn all you can about your fear/threat. Except he still hasn’t figured it out; we see even in Air Turtle that he calls Draxum for the mystic expertise instead of formulating his own hypothesis].

We’ve seen this insecurity about his place in the group before. In Mind Meld, as his brothers become more like him, his role is challenged. “Hey, you’re trying to get rid of me, that’s what I do to you!” “But, I thought purple was my... my thing.” When he first meets the Purple Dragon he immediately wants to join them because he sees them as tech peers. In Man vs Sewer even though he professes that it’s his day off, he doesn’t react well whenever Leo does ‘his thing’: analyzing the situation and drawing a conclusion. His self-worth seems to be tied to what he has to offer the group, and we hear that even in his song in The Mystic Library about proving himself.

Besides his insecurity, Donnie is practically allergic to blame. (Interestingly enough, he’s more okay with being wrong and others being right sometimes… sure he’ll deflect, but it doesn’t seem to get under his skin the way being at fault does). He will repeatedly deny fault and shift the blame to someone else when something goes wrong. He denies creating AlBearto in Al Be Back, says the incident with the Purple Dragons in The Purple Jacket is entirely April’s fault (she is not amused) and puts the blame for ditching Todd off on his brothers in Todd Scouts. The one time we see him own up his mistakes is in Mind Meld when no one (except Shelldon) is around to see it. “Yup. I beefed up.” This is definitely an area he needs to work on.

Average Donnie: Donnie cares for his brothers, but that doesn’t always get across in the best of ways. Take the episode Donnie’s Gifts, for example. Donnie never actually got a chance to explain how the gifts work, but we can see protective elements in each of them. Raph: please use your head and don’t just blindly rush in! Mikey: ohmygosh that is so dangerous, please be careful and don’t get hurt! Leo: stop poking the bear, Leo, it only makes him angrier! It makes sense that a 5 who has external fears of the world and has their own protective equipment (the Battle Shells) would extend that to his brothers. And Donnie was able to recognize that even though his brothers got the wrong message, he could move past that and call for a group hug. In the Purple Game he is super anxious to make sure his brothers are okay and not mostly hurt. Insane in the Mama Train also reveals the invention of the Panic Button… and who designed that?

Donnie also seeks a lot of validation. He takes pride in his work, and when his work is appreciated he gives that appreciation back tenfold [such as when he shows off the Turtle Tank to his brothers (Fast and Furriest), or when Splinter says he’s proud of him (Turtle-dega Nights: the Ballad of Rat Man)]. The flip side is that when he’s not getting the validation he needs from others he’ll create it himself, which comes off as arrogant and egocentric. See Smart Lair, when Sheldon 1.0 plays messages of Donnie’s self-worth all night, and is programmed to favor him. Or when he takes full credit for defeating a bad guy: the silverfish in Donnie’s Gifts, and scaring Draxum away with his disco ball in Shadow of Evil. When he gets the recognition for all his hard work from the right people, though, it inspires him to do great things. There is danger in getting validation from the wrong people, however, as we saw in Big Mama’s case in Bug Busters.

Donnie at his Best: Donnie’s at his best (and most relaxed) whenever he’s learning or building something. He gets super excited and happy attending April’s school (The Purple Jacket) or going to the library (The Mystic Library) and wants to attend college someday (The Mutant Menace). The INTJ/5 seeks to absorb information and he’s constantly energized by it.

He’s also energized when he can put that information to use, such as when building something. Did Albearto need a total tear-down in War and Pizza? No. But Donnie had fun making him ‘dazzle!’ How did Donnie cope being in the woods in Todd Scouts? By building an impressive tree fort. Donnie’s projects actually relax him, because he’s exercising his strength and capabilities.

This also works for his method of attacks and plans: Know Thine Enemy. He studies Warren Stone in Newsworthy when they meet him and is the only one who remembers he regenerates by Warren & Hypno Sitting in a Tree. Donnie and Mikey are able to successfully scam Repo Mantis in One Man’s Junk because they know how he thinks. Donnie thwarts everything the Purple Dragons do and can bring Shelldon home because he knows how they operate  (The Purple Game, Breaking Purple). He can restore his brothers to their rightful minds in Mind Meld because he knows himself. 

Also: music. The fact that one of his Battle Shells has a music mode (Mascot Melee), that he remembers things in song form (The Mystic Library, Donnie vs Witch Town), and that he likes to dance (Stuck on You) is so pure and adorable.

Donnie Relationships: 

(while Donnie does see his brothers as dum-dums at times, he admits they’re fun and pretty great to have in Mind Meld)

Raph: We really need a Donnie and Raph episode, but even without one there’s some moments we can look at. I already discussed in Raph’s analysis their general similarities. Donnie doesn’t think Raph always has the brightest ideas, but still has soft moments with him such as giving him $20 at the end of Mind Meld, designing the ‘captain’s chair’ of the Turtle Tank to Raph’s lumbar settings, and appreciating Raph’s pirate accent in Snow Day. They are both protective of their brothers, Raph with his fists and Donnie with his tech. It’s interesting that (I believe) they’re the reverse of each other on the Enneagram: Raph is a 6w5, and Donnie a 5w6. So they both understand the risks involved in what they do (mostly: Donnie still ate poison and Raph still goes on ‘smashcapades’). I really want to see a team-up between them.

Leo: I’m all for the Disaster Twins trope, but to me an episode that epitomizes that isn’t one like Lair Games, where they’re at each other’s throats, but Operation Normal. They’ve apparently done the grandma-getup before. They wind up playing as good cop, bad cop in Fast and Furriest. Sure, one’s high-strung, and one’s laid-back, which can get on each others’ nerves, but there’s also a lot of making up. Brotherly betrayal passes back and forth between them, but never crosses a line. And the numerous times they unconsciously mirror each other can be found with a simple search of the Disaster Twins tag. I’m interested to see more episodes where they work together, even in the background, just because they can get up to wild shenanigans.

Mikey: Mikey’s probably the turtle Donnie most gets along with. They’ve had several episode team-ups: Repo Mantis, One Man’s Junk, Turtle-dega Nights: the Ballad of Rat Man, Breaking Purple, etc. Donnie may be the team academic, but Mikey has strong emotional intelligence. They get along pretty easily, making plans together (One Man’s Junk) and protecting each other (we see Donnie protect Mikey in Repo Mantis and Bug Busters, but we see Mikey protect Donnie by pulling him out of the way in Smart Lair). Donnie helps Mikey focus on the goal at hand, and Mikey helps Donnie communicate better with others. They’re a good team with a pretty solid foundation.

Ultimately, Donnie’s an inventive turtle who wants his brothers to be safe but is still wrestling with a lot of insecurities and unhealthy stress levels. I’m excited to see how he grows into real confidence and utilizes his strengths as an integral member of the team.

For more information on the INTJ and Enneagram 5 personality types, click here:

https://www.16personalities.com/intj-personality

https://www.crystalknows.com/enneagram/type-5-wing-6

https://thoughtcatalog.com/heidi-priebe/2016/01/mbti-and-the-enneagram-2/6/