#feel very old man screams at clouds tbh and it's exhausting

[astracora]

'help me with this ai thing'

i cannot explain to you how little i want to do that

[fan-dumb-trash]

Come Out And Play [Prinxiety One-Shot]

Hey @5-crofters-jams ! Here’s your present for @secretsanders! I really love Prinxiety along with Panic! and Billie Eilish so I’m super happy I got you! Hope you had a good Holiday! TBH this is one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, so I’m praying that youll love it as much as I do :D - <3 Ray

Warnings: Angst and Self deprecation in the beginning.Some swearing. don’t worry it ends up fluffy very quickly :D

•••

Roman curled up in a ball, head between his knees and tightly shut his eyelids. His roommate was stomping around their little apartment in her thick combat boots, sounding like an elephant in tap shoes. Her shouts where echoing in the open space, fading in and out everytime she exited and entered a room. Roman suddenly felt the same pit in his stomach he did when he was a child. Little Roman always tried to drown out his parent’s shouting by his favorite Disney songs, hiding away from the ugly with the lighthearted.

Now, it was like everything came around full circle. Roman messed up. He always did. His passions, his fears, his inability to live his life, had caused others to get dragged down with him. Roman’s roommate just happened to be the collateral damage of today.

“It’s Christmas Eve! How in the hell are you okay with staying here all night, being sorry for yourself and sad. If you want to throw a pity party, do it on your own terms. I’m goin’ out. Don’t bother joining me.” The girl seethed, her tone cold and biting. At this point, she was standing by the door with her hand on her hip. Roman’s earbuds were in and he pretending to ignore his roommate.

“Go ahead and write your dumb little short plays and hide the fact that you don’t have a clue what you’re doing with your life,” she scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. Roman flinched and bit his lip. He would not cry. He asked for this. As usual he declined another one of her offers to go out. Roman was tired, and his words came out uncensored and offhandedly. Clearly he had stricken a nerve in his roommate.

“Why can’t you just loosen up and go out for once? Is it so hard to be a normal human being?”

Roman heard her sigh. He had no energy to respond to her. Her car key jingled in her hands as she went to open the door. “Goodnight Roman,” she said, “Merry Fucking Christmas.” She huffed and slammed the door. Roman began rocking back in forth. He would not cry. He asked for this. He screamed into his knees and rolled off the couch, walking towards the table. Roman opened his laptop and stared at the empty word document.

Time passed. A few words were typed, and just as quickly, they were deleted. Ideas of heroes and dragons bounced in his head. Epic journeys and stories of love could unfold in his head, but to translate them into written word took more concentration than Roman could muster. He decided to give up for the night and retreat to Netflix. Before doing so he decided he had to at least grab a snack.

As he began to walk towards the cupboard, he heard a soft noise coming from outside his apartment. It was faint, but alluring. Roman found himself being drawn to it and carefully unlocked his kitchen window. He slowly opened it and he heard the sound of instrument strings being plucked from above him. A soft, deep humming swirled with the wind that directed the noise to his ears. The voice began to sing.

“And some days I lie wide awake 'til the Sun hits my face. And I fade, elevate from the Earth”

Roman, tired and disheveled, jumped onto the counter and grasped the window sill, his nail polish chipping a bit under his tight grip. The voice became more clear.

“Far away to a place where I'm free from the weight, this old world, this old world~”

Roman took a sharp intake of breath when he heard the small riff at the end of the line. He leaned closer and closer to the sound, sticking his head out the window.

“I don't trust anything, or anyone, below the Sun.”

Silky, smooth, and striking with each word, Roman somehow felt connected to the source of music. What twist of fate had him stumble upon this siren-like voice? Roman didn’t know, but he wanted to find out. Whether it was the spirit of the holiday, or the exhaustion creeping up on Roman, the man, in a leap of faith, decided to investigate.

“And I don't feel anything, at all”

Roman looked down. It had come to his attention that there was a fire escape starting a few feet under the window. Forgetting his fear of heights he plopped out of the window and walked on the metal balcony over to a nearby ladder. The wind blew around the man, throwing him a bit off balance.

“I'm king of the clouds, of the clouds~ I get lifted, I get lifted,”

He pinpointed the source of the noise. It came from above him. One foot in front of the other, he scrambled up the ladder. He prayed that it would lead him to the stranger, and not to his death. Roman’s head began to race. Thoughts bounced around like a kid on a sugar rush. What am I thinking? I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to freaking die. As he got closer and closer he found himself regretting his decision more and more. It took all his strength to not look down. He knew that if he did, he would freak out and plumit towards the ground. Roman imagined himself as prince climbing up a tower to reach his beautiful Rapunzel. With this in mind, the stranger with the lovely voice finally came into view.

“King of the- What the FUCK!?!?” The man screeched, and suddenly stopped playing his guitar. His eyes were wide and dark, like a deer in the headlights. His jaw virtually dropped down the six stories below him.

•••

Virgil appreciated cliches. They offered consistency. You always knew what to expect when you sat down on the couch with your cozy blanket, and put on a Hallmark movie. There were no surprises. Real life was never like the movies, so everything he watched, he concluded would never happen to him.

Never in Virgil’s uneventful and drab life did he expect to actually live through one of these cliches. That’s why when a man with tangled red hair and big caramel eyes appeared at the edge of his secluded balcony, he concluded that everything he knew, was a lie.

“SORRY! Ididntmeantostartleyou! I just-erm… reallyreally liked your voice.” Roman, at this point, had climbed over the banister and sheepishly waved at Virgil. His smile was tight, but easy. Virgil didn’t quite know what to make of this situation.

“Thanks…? But that still doesn’t explain what the HELL you are doing up here! Where did you come from?” He interrogated, burying himself in his scarf. Virgil’s face was on fire.

“Oh,” Roman’s brow furrowed. “I’m in room 42, right bellow you, I think…” Virgil growled and buried his face in his hands.

“Why are you here?” He asked. Everything was silent for a moment, but the wind howled and caused Roman to shiver. He didn’t plan to be out in the cold. His thin bomber jacket would do him no good in the winter weather. Virgil caught onto this and looked up at the man, concerned. Roman shrugged at his stranger, and replied to him.

“I mean, isn’t a little spontaneity good every once in a while? People just do stuff without any explanation. It can be good, bad, but it just happens. Is it your job, or my job, to decide what the universe should and shouldn’t make happen?”

Virgil couldn’t decide if this dude was crazy or brilliant. He did know he was cold, and scared of heights. The man refused to look at anything that wasn’t Virgil. The way he couldn’t truly smile, or relax his posture told him something was off. Roman slowly came further and further from the edge. Virgil didn’t have the heart to send him back down the ladder.

“You’re shivering,” he said. “I will be right back. Don't go anywhere, okay?” Roman nodded in response, and Virgil slipped through his own window. As his feet hit the tile floor, a loud whistling noise startled him and sent him up into the air. He looked over and realized it was just his tea pot. Thanking the gods for not letting his house burn down, he grabbed the first jacket he saw and an old beanie, and quickly filled two mugs up with tea. Walking back outside, Virgil had no idea what he was doing. A handsome stranger, speaking like a crazy person just decides to meet him on his balcony, and for what? His mediocre at best singing voice? Maybe guy is right, he thought. Spontaneity can be good.

With this newfound motivation, Virgil carefully approached Roman after much struggling. He set down the two tea mugs and then tossed him the sweatshirt and beanie. Roman quickly threw the sweatshirt over his head. It was much too big for him, but frankly he did not care. As he slid the beanie on, he felt a little warmth come back to his body. Virgil moved his guitar case off of an empty chair and gestured to the seat with his long, pale fingers. He cleared his throat and began to speak in his best medieval voice.

“Have a seat, lone traveler. If you’re gonna trespass, and invade my secluded balcony, you owe me every last detail of your halfway decent origin story.” It took all of Virgil’s self control to not burst out laughing at the bewildered look on the other man’s face. Roman did not expect this tall glass of emo to provide such a performance. He began to laugh, and sat down next to Virgil. Virgil’s cheeks tinted pink at the harmonious sound and Roman smiled.

“But what if my origin story’s no good, kind sir?” Roman questioned, with the same kind of voice. Somehow it held more of a dramatic flair than Virgil’s. The edgy man snorted and crossed his arms.

“Well you’ll just have to tell me anyways, won’t you? If it’s that bad- I’ll feed you to the crocodiles.”

Virgil replied. If possible, Roman smiled even wider, causing warmth to spread though Virgil.

“How about this,” the man began. “I’ll start you off with a question. What’s a dude like yourself doin’ all alone on Christmas Eve. You seem like the social type, right?” Virgil asked, curiosity in his eyes. He sipped the tea and buried himself into his scarf. Roman practically guzzled his tea, desperate to warm up.

“Well, I am. A prince such as myself has got to slay. Theater sort of demands that you be social. All the actors, tech crew, directors… Frankly, I don’t think I get a break,” Roman sighed.

“Should’ve guessed you were a theater guy,” Virgil shook his head and chuckled.

“Yeah,” Roman grinned. “It’s obvious once I mention it. But I mean when things get overwhelming I tend to… back up? I mean if it’s in the middle of a show I’ll play my part, but I don’t attach myself to the vulnerability of it all or I’ll get hurt… I mean good thing a lot of male leads are shallow and one dimensional.”

Virgil hesitantly nodded. “I guess… I mean guys aren’t always like that in real life. And I’m sure you aren't. So I’d just accept that you’re gonna get hurt and just live,” Roman flinched and shut his eyes as the other man finished that phrase. Virgil cursed under his breath and slowly reached out to touch his hand before sharply pulling back.

“Sorry! Did I say something? I probably did sorry that was harsh I shouldn’t have-“

“You aren’t wrong. I really do. It’s just not easy, outside of theater. Christmas has always been tough since my parents split. Don’t get me wrong, I live for the aesthetic. Red is my favorite color. Green is… captivating,” Roman breathed out, catching a glimpse of Virgil’s own eyes, hidden behind raven hair. “ It’s just that what I expect is never what I get. Christmas kinda ruined itself for me. It didn’t help that ever since I moved here I haven’t kept in touch with my folks as much as I should. I just feel… guilty. For feeling free. But I’m also sad as hell if you can’t tell,” He gestured towards himself and his disheveled appearance. Virgil noticed the bags under his eyes, and the exhaust plaguing him. He hummed sympathetically.

“That’s gotta suck big time. I mean, if you’re living a better life without their drama, you shouldn’t feel guilty. If they truly gave a shit about you they’d understand your actions, or at least try to,” Virgil sipped more of his tea and gazed at Roman. He seemed to be in his own little world. A part of Virgil wanted to join him in the bliss. “I’m just an antisocial guitar lover who’s only plans are to hang out with their parents on Christmas Day. The universe is one funny dude for giving you me, of all people, for condolences,” he reached out a hand to touch Roman, but this time he didn’t pull back last moment. Roman looked over at him with an intense gaze. He sighed and smiled sadly.

“I write. A lot. Short plays. They never go anywhere because they’re never real. It’s all in my head, fantasy. For once I want something tangible. Theatre is my escape from my sadness… it’s just that I think it’s taking away from stuff that really matters,” Roman whispered, almost too quietly. The wind had settled at this point, not taking away from the spoken word. Virgil smiled back, unsure of why he was listening to a stranger.

“It seems like your art is your way of expressing yourself. Isn’t that what really matters? Being yourself? Music is my escape. Singing something is acknowledging it’s real, but also acknowledging the wisdom and power that you gain when you overcome an obstacle. It’s also just… really nice ya know? I respect you. And any other sane person should,” Virgil said. Roman stared at him, in awe. He was stunning in more ways than one. His features, his words, his voice, made Virgil a person that could inspire Roman in such a short amount of time.

“Will you sing for me?” Roman asked. Virgil blushed and shook his head.

“No! I mean I’m used to singing in front of people it’s just the circumstance-“

“How about this,” Roman began, rubbing circles on Virgil’s palm, making him blush more. “You can play a song on your guitar and I will sing it, but you have to promise to sing a little with me too. Deal?”

Virgil contemplated for a moment. It would be interesting to hear if this prince man could carry a tune. He hummed aloud.

“Hmm. What do have in mind?” Virgil asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Do you like Billie Eilish?”

“Is that even a question? Of course I do. What song?”

•••

Roman was shocked how quickly he could answer Virgil. I mean, it was a simple question, and the choice was obvious. While Virgil’s voice was steady, Roman could see the nervousness swimming in his eyes.

“Come out and play.” Roman replied, pulling his hand away from Virgil’s. His checks tinted pink, and Virgil laughed at him. Roman imagined the gears in Virgil’s head turning. His jaw was tight and he averted his gaze away from Roman. Roman noticed this, and carefully grabbed Virgil’s guitar, pushing it into his chest.

“You don’t have to be nervous. It’s just me, a random stranger who doesn’t know a thing about you, and who definitely won’t judge you,” Roman softly said. Virgil finally looked up at him and smiled.

“Okay,” Virgil muttered, adjusting his position so he could play. “Thank god I know this song by heart. If I didn’t, we’d be screwed.” Roman shook his head, amused.

“Well, my damsel in distress -heh, literally- I happen to know the song, infact, I could sing it backwards.” Virgil raised his eyebrows, and adjusted his fingers on the fretboard. Roman scotted forward in his chair and curiously peered at Virgil. The emo man sighed.

“I would rather you not do that. You ready?” He asked.

“I was born ready.” Roman exclaimed, sipping the last of his tea and abruptly clearing his throat. Virgil pursed his lips together and shook his head at Roman.

“You do know that clearing your throat actually rubs your vocal chords together and messes up your singing, right?” Virgil said matter-of-factly. Roman gasped, somewhat surprised. The other man laughed quietly to himself and began playing his guitar, long fingers plucking cooper strings to create a calming sound. Roman grinned and hummed along. He looked across the balcony and the setting sun that peeked between the trees.

“Wake up and smell the coffee. Is your cup half full or empty? When we talk, you say it softly- but I love it when you're awfully quiet,” Roman sang with a bright, warm voice, throwing Virgil in for a loop. There was somewhat of a shaky undertone to it, even if Roman himself was confident. Virgil found it endearing.

“Hmm, hmm quiet. Hmm, hmm” Virgil hummed softy with Roman, their voices not quite melting together. Roman looked over at Virgil and their eyes met for a brief moment. The moment ending just as quickly as it started.

“You see a piece of paper, could be a little greater. Show me what you could make her. You'll never know until you try it-“ This time Roman sang to Virgil, sincerity lacing his words. “-and you don't have to keep it quiet” Roman emphasized this phrase, causing Virgil to roll his eyes good heartedly. He sang the chorus with him.

“And I know it makes you nervous. But I promise you, it's worth it- to show 'em everything you kept inside. Don't hide, don't hide~” Virgil’s smooth softer voice blended perfectly with Romans’. They both grinned, noticing it. They sang to each other as Virgil began playing his guitar more enthusiastically. Roman refrained from singing- entranced by Virgil.

“Too shy to say, but I hope you stay. Don't hide away~ Come out and play.” Roman stared, seeing the weariness poke out in Virgil's voice. He found it beautiful. He found him beautiful- and thanked the universe for having this happen to him. The rest of the song way sweet, and unsteady- but by the end they where both lost in the moment. Virgil sighed, content.

“Well that wasn’t so bad, now was it?” Roman crossed his arms and leaning back in his chair. His eyes betrayed any negativity he was trying to portray. They were filled with light and joy. Virgil smirked and shook his head.

“No, it wasn’t. I’m going to come hug you now, okay?” Virgil said, placing his guitar back in its case. Roman laughed and stood up and Virgil embraces him. Roman rested his chin on Virgil’s shoulder as he wrapped his arms around his waist.

“Did I make your Christmas Eve less crappy?” Virgil asked, mostly as a joke.

“Hell yeah you did!” Roman replied, tilting his head a bit. Virgil broke away from the hug and grabbed Roman’s hand.

“Okay, I have a question and this might be a bit odd-“ Virgil started- but Roman interrupted.

“Oh, of course my darling emo I will marry you!”

Virgil cackled and lightly smacked him on the shoulder. Roman grinned, proud of himself.

“Noted. I was going to ask if you wanted to come to my parents tomorrow? I’m sure they won’t mind another human around and they always make a ton of food anyways even though it’s just me and all. I mean if you don’t want to that’s chill too…” Virgil looked down at the floor, his face on fire. Roman squeezed Virgil’s hand, causing him to look up.

“I’d love too, but first I need to know your name.”

“Oh shit!” Virgil exclaimed, facepalming. “My names Virgil. My dad's a huge poetry nerd and my other dad just like adores unique things so bam!”

“Wow, that's a lovely name! I happen to like poetry myself.” Roman smiled as Virgil’s blush became more visible.

“I should probably ask what your name is,” Virgil commented.

“I’m Roman Prince, at your service,” He said, bowing. Virgil snorted.

“Fitting. Oh, I’m glad you decided to waltz into my life and climb up a fire escape just to hear me sing.” Roman’s smile grew as Virgil spoke. Fate was a funny thing. Perhaps Roman was able to live a little all along, all he had to do was find the right person.

“I’m glad I did too, Virgil.”

•••

Note: The songs used in here are King Of The Clouds By Panic! At The Disco and come out and play by Billie Eilish! I’d recommend giving them a listen! I also don’t own thoose songs I’m just a huge fan of them :3 Hope you liked this!

[delicrieux]

the one for me

PART 1: THE ONE FOR YOU

PAIRING: bill weasley x reader

summary: bill and fleur’s wedding is attacked. little angst. mostly fluff. 

also, requested by @whitewolf-dianaprince, @ghostwriter050402, and anons. 

a/n : the requests are quite long so i put them at the end of the fic. i was nearly boycotted so im fixing my act. sorta. poor fleur tbh. but i love my mans bill weasley and i only make him suffer bcs my heart couldnt take giving him up afterwards! IT’S SAD AT THE START BUT HAPPY AT THE END! A COUPLE OF THINGS TO NOTE: this takes place after ‘the one for you’, jacob and mc have a curse-breaking firm, mc is bills one true love :( THANK YOU SO MUCH TO @blackphoenixfire FOR COMING THRUUU WITH THE MOODBOARD!!!!!!!!!!!! <3 PLEASE CHECK EM OUT! <3 

feedback is always appreciated xoxo

MASTERLIST. ko-fi (i chug coffee as i write these fics, and another cup would make me happy <3)

“Stay here tonight. If you go now, they might catch you.”

At Bill words you snap your head to him, your whole body trembling as you grasp you wand tightly. The unfamiliar building seeps with warmth as the wind howls mercilessly outside. The room, small, yet cosy, one of the many safe houses the Order has, is illuminated by oil lamps that cast dim shadows of you and he. The air is stuffy. You take in a deep breath to calm your beating heart, yet to no avail. Slowly, your peer away from the defeated form of Bill Weasley, he sitting on a plush couch that is lightly chewed by moths and other, as you shakily turn to the window. A clear starry night lies behind your ghastly reflection.

“(Name).” Bill calls you, his voice hollow and strange.

Subconsciously, your mind racing with terrible thoughts, your hands raise and you twirl your wand in a graceful, poise motion, “Protego Totalum….” The words fall from your lips in a terrified whisper, “Salvio Hexia…”

“I think we’re safe here.” He tries to get your attention again, yet you do not budge, “(Name)…Please….” His face falls into his hands as a low, breathy sigh leaves his lips, “Come here so I could make sure you are actually alive.” He adds quietly, more to himself than you.

His words shake you to the very core and inspired with energy you drop whatever protection charm you were going to cast next and promptly walk to his side, a short stride, really, and fall by the couch as you grab him by the wrists and pull. You meet face to face with misty blue eyes, clouded by shock and hurt. A strained smile pulls on the corners of your lips, “I’m here.” You reassure him, yet you don’t sound so sure yourself, “I’m alive.” Your cold hand moves to caress his hair, “The rest are alive, too. They are, really. I would never lie to you, would I?” Your voice strains with doubt, “What matters is that we made it out, yeah? We’ll contact the rest as soon as—“ As soon as what? You aren’t certain yourself. “…Shitty wedding, ey?”

He manages you wheeze out a laugh, “Tell me about it.” Though the last drop of light-heartedness melts away into fear, “I…really thought I lost you.”

“Nonsense, you couldn’t lose me even if I died.”  You jest, your voice still a nervous whisper, “I’d haunt you for the rest of my afterlife. Nothing in this world could tear me away from you, Bill.”

He smiles faintly at the genuine, yet morbid, idea.

The events of the first cheerful night replay in waves, in striking precision. No detail is left out of your mind, and soon you feel too exhausted to move. You sit by the couch, on the dusty wooden floorboards, your back leaning onto its plush side. Bill had joined you on the floor, his body a welcoming furnace of heat as his arm is draped over your shoulder. The two of you sit in solemn silence, watching the night outside the window, deep and scary.

The wedding was attacked. The Ministry has fallen. Your friends might be dead. And worst of all, there is nothing you can do, no way to contact them and make sure they are still intact. You must wait. Sit and wait and feel utterly useless. It is still too soon to regroup, as danger might be luring just around the corner. You try to even out your breathing as you recall the chilling message, the screams, the blasts of deadly magic that made your hairs stand on end. You had nearly received a few curses; a few less murderous ones had hit you, and their remnants engrave your already bruised body and chip away at your dress. They do not hurt. Granted, you may simply be too numb to feel any pain at all. They are but a dull ache somewhere, you can’t even pin point where. All you can think about is your friends and worry sick. Each time you drift away into your own mind, Bill yanks you back as he pulls you closer to his bodice.

His lips brush against your forehead, warm and tingling against your skin, as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Do you remember…when we were kids?” He asks you, quietly.

“It would certainly be disturbing if I didn’t.” You reply with a sad smile, “I’m hardly that old.”

“And do you…remember the Yule Ball?”

You hum, “I remember having to reject quite a few offers because I was dead set on taking Ben.” You frown softly, “He was so….frightened of everything. But I knew he wanted to go. He was really happy when I asked him. We jammed to punk rock all night…I have never seen him smiling so brightly.”

“I asked you to the dance, too.”

“You were joking.”

“No, (Name), I wasn’t.” The sudden seriousness in his tone made you pull away, much to his dismay. Your eyes meet and you gulp - intense and determinant, no sign of defeat, “I wasn’t joking when I said I wanted you to be my date. I wasn’t joking when I asked you to be my girlfriend in Egypt. I wasn’t joking about what I said back in the Burrow—“

“Stop.” You plead, eyes closed and quivering, “Just stop, please…” You shake your head, “I was…I was so scared and hurt to come back, I already lost you to someone else and when the Death Eaters showed up I—“ You inhale a sharp breath, your eyes prying open, tears picking at their corners, “I thought I was going to lose you again, this time for good.”

His hands land on your cheeks, pulling you just a tad closer, “(Name), I need to tell you something.”

“Don’t.”

“I must.”

“You can’t.”

He gives you a shaky smile, “(Name) (Lastname)” He address you, his voice soft as velvet, “my partner in crime, colleague, and best friend.” His eyes find yours and lock them, “…I love you.”

It feels like lightning going through your chest, a whole world of new senses and truths opening after so many years. He says it genuine, meaning every world, every syllable, and every possible connotation. He gazes at you expectantly, your expression of shock and helplessness – even your tears have stopped in their tracks, hot on your skin – as you regard him with silent wonder and admiration. You shut your eyes, welcoming darkness, as you lean onto his touch.

“I love you too, Bill.” You confess, “…And I’m sorry it took me so long to realise.”

He grins, “Better late than never, I suppose.” His thumbs wipe away a few stray tears, “You know… people usually tend to be happy on such occasions.”

You hit him on the shoulder, “You’re married, you git!”

“Then I won’t be.” He states, as serious as before, “I won’t be, for you.”

“No, you will be making a huge mistake—“

“The only huge mistake I made was not having the courage to tell you sooner.” He cuts you off, “And look at where that got us…” His eyes briefly roam around the silent room, “Maybe it is fate.” His attention returns to you once more, his stern expression softening as he caresses your cheek, “I always had this feeling that…You are the one for me. And that sooner or later…We’ll be together.”

“Wishful thinking.” You blur, but can’t help the small smile.

“I say it paid off.” He grins sleepily, briefly glancing at your lips, “I say it paid off, indeed.” Your breath hitches in your throat as you lean in, and so those he. The wind continues to howl. The last thing you see before you close your eyes is soft yellow light playing on his freckled skin. You meet him halfway and he kisses you softly.

For a moment, one single moment, the rest of the world melts away in overwhelming sensations. Worries fade into the night. There are only two people in the world, you and him. Just you and him.

 BONUS

The house is quiet, only the sound of sleepy mumbles and kitchen appliances by the breakfast table echo. Your footsteps are diluted by the carpet under your feet, as curiously and with a hum, you pick up todays mail, dropped just a moment prior. Sunshine streams from the outside, and grasping the velvety letters you briefly skim each one: work, taxes, work, complaint, another complaint, and… Blinking owlishly, you eye the familiar envelope, one you had gotten many years ago yourself. With your heart jumping to your throat, you tear the seal off with shaky fingers and open the letter.

You place a hand over your mouth as not to scream. The envelopes helplessly fall from your gasp and settle on the floor.

DEAR JACOB WEASLEY,

WE ARE PLEASED TO INFORM YOU THAT YOU HAVE A PLACE AT HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY. PLEASE FIND ENCLOSSED A LIST OF ALL NECESSARY BOOKS AND EQUIPMENT.

TERM BEGINS ON 1 SEPTEMBER. WE AWAIT YOUR OWL BY NO LATER THAN 31 JULY.

YOURS, SINCERELY,

MINEVRA MCGONAGALL

HEADMISTRESS

You re-read the letter one last time and scream anyway, “OH MY—MERLIN! BILL! BILL COME QUICK!” You yell frantically, looking up to find Teddy Lupin curiously poking his head out from the kitchen. Your husband, still in his sleeping robes, stumbles downstairs, frightened to death with his wand ready. Seeing you teary and grinning brightly, he promptly takes a relived sigh.

“Bloody hell, I thought someone died.”

“No, you idiot,” You shove him the letter, “Our son just got his letter!” You squeal excited, “From Hogwarts! Our baby is going top Hogwarts!”

requests:   Ahh okay I’m in love with your writing and was wondering if I could request Bill x mc with the prompt “Stay here tonight” /  can you make a story from hogwarts mystery after the one you made mc attending fleur and bill's wedding, but the attack happened and later saw mc got hurt bad from it with some side charlie moments (also as i recall in the book ginny and molly never initially like fleur) 😍😍😍😍😍😍 pleaaase i love me some good angst and i really love your writting style~ /  your last fic just KILLED me. can I please request a fluffy mc/bill fic so my boi finally gets the true love he deserves? you’re such a good writer and I really enjoy your fics! can’t wait to read more :-) /  since you are determined to break our hearts with Bill/MC angst here I am, asking you to write Bill/MC fluff, where those two get their shit together, confess their feelings, get married and live happy together ( cause I now consider canon that Bill married Fleur only because he couldn't marry MC-sorry fleur i like you but MC and Bill are soulmates and nothing will ever change my mind )

forever tags: @scarletraine- @brahwhytho- @smilesfromabove- @pharaohkiller - @victoriaelvendorkweasley-@onehellofdevilotaku- @eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy- @phillipas00- @xxcrowfeatherxx- @cupcakestyleshood- @invisibilityrocks- @nephalem67 - @chwechwechwe - @porpentyna - @lesbianheartbreaker - @banjosanjo - @madswheelers - @sombodymaybeawatson - @disneyfanatic77 - @superanonymousreader - @aliypop​ - @slytherinyour-chambers - @onehellofdevilotaku - @victoriaelvendorkweasley - @pharaohkiller - @smilesfromabove - @brahwhytho - @scarletraine - @rosiersgirl  -  @teca-tita - @anapiscator - @ardentmuse - @illiniana - @sugerquill - @oliviaplayschoices - @sarasapen

[celestialsoft]

⤻   *       GREETINGS AND HELLO !!!! :   IT IS I   ,   ADMIN EDIE !    HERE ONCE AGAIN HERE TO POST AN INTRO  :~))))  

this time i’m here to introduce you to my tenderhearted wee bab of an angel who clears my skin and grows by crops tBH, FRANK KANGDAE LONGBOTTOM, my lionhearted boi who deserves e v e r y t h i n g ( literally ; empty out your pockets and give EVERYTHING u have to frankleface longbooty—— he . deserves . it . all . !!!!! ) if you’d like to plot, please like this post or hmu in my im’s & without further ado —— here’s frank ! pls love him

⤻   *       APPLICATION   —— !

* ╰    ( KIM YOUNGKYUN )┋have you met ( FRANKLIN KANGDAE LONGBOTTOM ) ? ( he ) reminds me of ( deep loneliness and deep kindness grown in equal parts —— and he speaks, so overcome with love, that i forget we are at war. he grew up hanging lanterns on hilltops to make sure the moon could see at night ; and practiced catching droplets of rain with his lips —— because even the clouds deserved a little romance. ' i infinitesimal being, drunk with the great starry void ' —— tenderhearted boy , luminescent boy : boy frightened , boy destroyed. unravelled by kindness ; compassion consumed —— on the precipice of supernova , he burns brightest in the darkest hour. he looks to me as if he were a man forged entirely of tenderness and the sun ; yet he is the sweet nocturne that plays despite how the beginning of the end has begun ). a ( twenty-one ) year old ( tenth ) year ( gryffindor ), the ( paladin ) is known to be ( + tenderhearted & + clement ), yet ( — oversolicitous & — pensive ). that explains why they’re majoring in ( healing ). rumour has it, ( frank ) is siding with ( the order ) in the solemn war that blazes beyond the castle walls. ( edie, 22, aedt, she/her )

⤻   *       ABOUT FRANK  ——   !!

ahhhhh, frank longbottom —— where do i even start ????? if there’s just one thing that you should absolutely know about frank longbottom, it is that he is a gosh darn heckin’ angel. his heart is ??? so ??? genuinely pure ??? just thinking about it makes me want to tear up tbh

frank is the kind of boy who will charge straight into the carnage and chaos of the whomping willow to save a cat. he’s the kind of boy who hangs out by the edge of the black lake, worried that the giant squid is feeling lonely. he’s the kind of boy who sees the potential for good in everyone & everything, and is genuinely confused and appalled by acts of unkindness and malice when they occur. he chooses the path of benevolence, always, and he wants to keep everyone he loves safe so he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and feels like it is up to him, & him alone, to SAVE THE WORLD and make it a better place. i repeat for you my fronds : frank longbottom gosh darn heckin’ angel. but my god, is he a broken one.

⤻   *       BACKGROUND   ——   !!

frank was born into a sacred 28 pureblood family who cared very little for blood purity, but a whole lot for social justice & fighting for what is right. thomas and augusta longbottom first met at the ministry of magic, where their ‘ left-wing ’ progressive ideas about wizard / muggle / magical creature relations brought them together. their love brought frank longbottom into the world ; a child who was, from an early age, exposed to concepts of in/equality, systematic oppression, privilege, biased public policy, and injustice through his parents.

under the steady & tireless virtuous guidance of his mother and father, frank longbottom bloomed from infancy into childhood with a strong sense of egalitarianism & selflessness that most children only learned well into adolescence, and he had an awareness of the injustices of the world that many people did not gain even well into adulthood. yet despite his parent’s rather strict & heavy hand in discipline, there was always a remarkable air of benevolence and incorruptibility about frank that refused to be befouled.

nevertheless, frank was a terribly lonely child. he was homeschooled by a thoroughly screened, left-wing half-blood governess, and she was just about his only connection to the outside world. it goes without saying that sacred 28 pureblood socialising events & parties were off-limits and out of the question for frank, and since the longbottoms lived in suburban muggle england, frank was always too scared to socialise with many of the children in his neighbourhood, fearful that he would accidentally expose his magical lineage & incur terrible consequences for his folly. shut away in a house of absolute virtue and morality, frank longbottom was a victim of utter loneliness & never got to experience the world his parents adamantly taught and trained him to save … until his letter from hogwarts arrived, that is.

⤻   *       HOGWARTS   ——   !!

frank was a heckin’ confusing four-way house hat stall during his sorting. the hat sensed the resolute loyalty and benevolence of hufflepuff in him, the love and respect for knowledge and learning of ravenclaw in him & the tenacity and ambition to achieve his goals of slytherin in him, but ultimately, the sorting hat settled on “ GRYFFINDOR ! ”, declaring its choice with a booming roar. above all, the sorting hat sensed frank to be brave —— willing ( & desperate, even ) to fight for what is right. it’s a shame that frank, to this day, doesn’t seem to see this bravery in himself. but by the warm beacon of the gryffindor common room fireplace, under the twinkling candlelights of the great hall, and at the top of the astronomy tower ( the stars and galaxies at the reach of his very own fingertips ), frank, at hogwarts has grown to be exactly the kind of person his parents have always wanted him to be : stalwartly true ; combatting hate with kindness, and enveloping cruelty with warmth. he loves deeply and vastly, and he honestly radiates this other-worldy quality of brightness ??? he’s the light in the dark, and oh how he shines. 

however —— the fact that he’s already grown into someone that his parents are proud of doesn’t stop frank from still wanting to be better, and wanting to save the world. what frank doesn’t realise is that he can hardly save the world if he can’t first save himself. he’s constantly emotionally and physically exhausted ; spending every moment of his time helping those around him and making sure to change to the world one kind act at a time. slowly but surely, frank’s bleeding heart and compulsion for kindness is coming to the point of being harmful to his own health and wellbeing. 

so yeah … … . though frank is falling apart, he never lets this show & he really tries to never make this anyone else’s problem. through the haze of responsibility and moral duty that has always clouded frank’s life, there’s still a profound tenderness and warmth about him ; and among all his advocations and efforts towards justice & peacetime, it’s difficult to discern just how deeply scared, lost, and confused the boy is in a world that refuses to cease changing right before his very eyes ; an inevitable war upon the horizon. 

⤻   *       LITTLE HEADCANONS   ——   !!

frank has always been V MAGICALLY GIFTED. he showed his first signs of magic when he was just one and a half, when he had a terrible nightmare & woke up screaming in the middle of the night. instead of waiting for his parents to come and calm him down though, frank simply closed his eyes & focused on his breathing. when his parents stumbled into the room ; sleep hazy in their eyes, they could hardly believe what they saw : the entire room, covered in flowers and lush foliage —— something that frank had somehow conjured up to keep himself calm ( b/c untamed childhood magic be CRAZY ). frank is now able to command wandless magic, which is a GODSEND tbh b/c he’s such a sleep-deprived mess & he loses his wand c o n s t a n t l y istG

being a sacred 28 pureblood with quite advanced magical abilities, frank has always been in high demand for pureblood partnership through an arranged marriage. his parents, have always hastily shot down offers ( bc they aren’t all up in that pureblooded nonsense ! ), but that hasn’t stopped pureblooded parents from reaching out anyway :/ yIKEs :/// 

frank is part of the slug club ,,,,,,,,,,,,, and like ,,,,,,,,,,,,,, every single other club / extracurricular. baby longbottom is an OVERACHIEVER EXTRAORDINAIRE —— YA BOI DOES NOT KNOW HOW TO CHILL. it’s not that frank is driven by any sort of particular ambition and self-interest, though ?? rather, frank’s heavy involvement in every aspect of school life stems from the aforementioned incredible pressure of his parent’s expectations ; frank applying himself to every possible aspect of school life and extracurriculars in the hopes that he will make them proud

frank has so little chill that he’s actually started sleepwalking … yikes ????? it probably doesn’t help that frank is involved in almost every sport club tbH, & he is also gryffindor quidditch team’s seeker. the thing is that he could never give any sport up. sport is so cathartic for frankie my boi, because it helps him forget his worries & his responsibilities. while he’s playing sport he is just a body —— he is pulsing blood, deep breaths & he is free.

⤻   *       OTHER FUN FACTS / GENERAL SUMMARY DOT POINTS ABOUT FRANKLEFACE LONGBOOTY   ��—   !!

THE MOST CLEAN CUT KID OF THE YEAR AWARD GOES TO : frank longbottom, OFC. innuendo is lost on the kid ( he is v v v lost every time someone uses the word ‘ wand ’ as double entendre ), and has only consumed alcohol once in his life —— and even then, it was by accident ( it was in a spiked cherry berry trifle at an end of year christmas party back in first year ). 

LATELY, THOUGH, frank has taken up smoking. he does it in secret ; one cigarette every night in the astronomy tower, or by the black lake. if anyone ever found out about this frank would be MORTIFIED & would legitimately probably DIE of shame, so ………….. *coughs* someone pls walk in on him smoking one day. 

it’s so strange, because frank is incredibly in touch with the real travesties and injustices of the world, but in many ways he’s completely naive and lacking in real life experience. he is such an experientially sheltered kiddo, someone pls take him out and get him RAGING DRUNK bc he needs to chill out tbH

#mumfriend

takes literally 15 minutes out of each of his days to have a few conversations with a few of hogwarts’ cats ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, what a loser ??

gets excited when people ask him for help with their homework ( hELP ME ???? )

excels at all his subjects, but has a particular soft-spot for astronomy, herbology and care of magical creatures :’)

LOVES KNITTING —— stress knits a lot . he’d like to just knit the entire world up into a snug lil blanket and keep it safe and warm 

wants to single handedly save the world

did i mention ????? babe is a gosh dark heckin’ angel

in the mirror of erised, frank would see all his friends and family happy and smiling —— but he wouldn’t even be in the frame. mY HEART BREAKS OVER THIS HEADCANON TBH

frank has a cat named alexis de tocqueville 

i’ve run out of things to dot point & this is probably WAY TOO LONG ALREADY ANYWAY ??? so i’ll stop :o :o :o but please come and interact with my son ?!!!!!!??!? i love yall peace out

[comeondowntosouthparkrpg-blog]

Tweek Tweak

Watch out for underwear gnomes. Tweek has been accepted! Please submit your blog to the main, and a faceclaim to be featured on the main blog!

Name/Alias: Lindo Pronouns: she Age: 23 (24 in like a month) Join Our Discord: Sure! Timezone: est Activity: uhhh prob 6-7 just because I’m currently in the process of leaving my job/finding a new one and finding a new apartment.  just a little busy is all! Triggers: excessive gore, rape, etc. the big ones tbh Password: “jimmy can fast pass my ass”  Character that you’re applying for: Tweek Tweak Favourite ships for your character: Creek is pretty good, but I definitely prefer chemistry.

in character info

Full name: Taylor “Tweek” Eugene Tweak Birthday: August 17th Sexuality, gender, pronouns: demisexual/homoromantic, nonbinary, he/they Age and grade: 18 Appearance: There’s an exhaustion that always rests ever so gently on Tweek’s face.  It sags under his hazel eyes and sinks his cheeks in.  His golden locks are often unkempt, but they’ve since be styled shorter than childhood as to appear less unruly.  His nose has an unnatural crook to it, having healed wrong from a break. His height has been stunted from years of stress and caffeine intake, leaving him standing at around 5′7″. 

 He’s thin and lanky, his preferred meal of coffee and nothing else often leaving him malnourished.  He has since switched to t-shirts, the buttons on his former attire never becoming any easier for him.  His pale skin is peppered in freckles, though most reside on his cheeks and shoulders.   Personality: Tweek is a lot different from his childhood self.  After an extreme break down in middle school, the finally took the initiative to seek help for him.  He spent about two weeks in a mental institution before being released with a whole new cocktail of “remedies”.  After being hopped up on far too many pills (knowing South Park’s impeccable reputation in competence), Tweek was left as a shell of his former self.  

He’s less loud, less agitated and less mentally active.  He still experiences bouts of paranoia and irritation, but they come less frequent and are brief in comparison.  His sleep patterns are scattered, leaving him to pass out in class or stay up all night.  He’s still the same old unstable Tweek Tweak, just in a different sense nowadays. History: In his younger years, Tweek was considered “the Spaz”.  He was quirky, jumpy and easily set off.  He spent years in this state, becoming the butt of a lot of peoples’ jokes but being more or less oblivious to it. The countless cups of coffee he downed didn’t help the situation, though nobody in his life cared enough to stop.  His parents were the least observant figures in his life, shoving their brand down his throat.  The only good thing they did for him growing up was separate his intake from the public’s– avoiding any extra ingredients from getting in. He spent half his childhood like this, until his mind finally snapped.   In the eighth grade, it happened.  He broke, forcing the voices in his head and hallucinations to over power him. The school, in confusion and desperation, contacted an ambulance and he was rushed from school in an almost catatonic state.  Two weeks later and far too many pills for one person and Tweek Tweak was a “new man” so to speak.  He was quieter, more reserved.  Nobody seemed to notice at school at first, or at least they didn’t care enough to bring it up.  He was thankful, honestly, not needing the extra attention.  

He missed a few doses here and there throughout his life, which usually led to “fits” of confusion and irritation, but after a few years he finally seemed to gain a handle on himself.  Nowadays, Tweek is the quiet kid in the back of the class, exhaustion constantly on his features.

Sample paragraph: It was your average Tuesday in fall– the leaves were just barely losing their green and painting the little mountain town auburn.  There was a chill in the wind that nipped at your nose, but a warmth from the sun still holding on to summer.  He was sitting in class, eyes fading in and out of focus as he tried to focus on whatever current lesson the teacher was spewing. His attention is drawn elsewhere in a snap.  There’s figures forming in the corner of his vision, lingering in the shadows of the room.  They’re morphing into unspeakable creatures, tearing at the flesh of the other students.  None of them seem to notice, they’re unaware of their own demise.  A panic sets in as the situation finally hits him and a scream escapes pale, chapped lips.   All heads turn towards him, faces contorted in unnatural shapes as they glare at him.  His breath is shallow, lungs unable to fill as the figures and face cloud round him.  A cry claws its way from his throat, forcing itself out and startling the onlookers.  This isn’t real– it’s not real and Tweek knows it– but there’s no escape, there never is.  In sheer desperation, he slams his head down, smashing against the desk with a sickening crack.  There’s warm on his chin and a painful sting in his sinus, but the creatures are still there– taunting him.  Another smack, blood smearing the desk and droplets hitting the floor beside him.  Before he knows it, he’s being restrained– the monsters around him not wanting him to escape this nightmare.  They won’t let him sleep, they won’t let him leave.  

There’s a noise that sounds so distant though it’s right infront of him– a shaky female voice talking to her hand, a phone?  He can’t register anything anymore, his vision hazy as he tugged onto a bed– a stretcher?– and is wheeled out of the school and into an ambulance.  The rest is a blur of people talking, needles poking, mind weaving in and out of consciousness. His next memory is feeling entirely too heavy, the world around him sluggish and loud.  It’s like everything but himself is in slow motion.  His mother is there, talking to him, soothing him but he can’t hear her.  He’s being handed a cup of colorful shapes and he obediently gulps them down.  Someone’s speaking to his father, they’re wearing white– they sound kind.  There’s paperwork and concerned looks, more discussions before he’s finally allowed to go home.  It’s a few more days before Tweek finds himself back in class, the casual glances not going unnoticed.  There’s no conversation about it, no questions or curiosity.  It’s as if nothing has changed, so Tweek pretends nothing has.

Headcanons:

Tweek has a very low sex drive due to his medication.

He has two lovebirds named Sunny and Cher (his mother’s suggestion)

He’s always tired.  Always.

He loves his friends, though isn’t entirely sure if they really care about him or not.

He hasn’t been in a relationship since Craig, if you can really call it that.

He lives video games, but due to his slow reflexes he prefers to watch someone else play rather than participate himself.

Tweek has BPD and Schizophrenic.  He is not on the correct medication for it due to it being South Park because, lbr… they’re not good at their jobs.

Please hold his hand and keep him grounded.

Anything else: blep

[alucywarner]

~♥ FUTURE PLEASE ♥~

[And entertain he has, for the past two and a half hours now. This was the fun part, right? It so was. This was the best, and least stressful part, you feel me? Because his only worries here were making sure that they didn’t hit their heads, or hit each others’ heads, or-- ya know, steal each other’s pacifier, as Lucy had instructed. (That had been tried several times.) 

There’d only been a couple more diaper incidents, but nothing crazy. He fed them some of those star-shaped puff things that have no actual flavor, and he had to try to stop them from throwing them at each other, which they seemed to think was hilarious (Rather, Beau thought it was hilarious, and Merry was getting irritated.). To which Maddox just said ‘You two are gonna be so sweet to each other growing up. I can tell already’ with an eye roll. 

Both seemed to be trying to make attempts at crawling, which really just consisted of them doing push-ups and then falling back down, which, yeah, was funny to look at. And, yes, he sent videos of this to Lucy. And yes, in the background of the video he could be heard saying ‘Look at these nerds. Can’t even crawl. Family disappointments.’ Before switching to that baby voice again with an ‘aren’t you???’ and leaning forward to smooch their baby heads. Because he’s that kind of dad. Lucy only replied with a cry-laugh emoji and ‘stop being mean to our children.’ 

But now, after all of that good fun, and mocking his crawl-less babies, they were starting to get fussy again, and, well, yeah, it’d been about three hours, so that meant it was time for another nap. And that meant carrying the babies back up to the nursery where the rocking chair was, and all that good stuff. 

Though, if you know babies, you know babies fight sleep like the diCKENS, and even if they’re worn out, and it’s their NAP-TIME, they wILL NOT SLEEP. SO, as soon as Maddox has got both his kiddos in his arms, and he’s rocking them, they’re fightING IT, and CRYING AGAIN. He takes in a deep breath.]

Guys-- you’re only crying ‘cause you’re tired. Come on. [Here we see Maddox logic-ing infants again. They can’t be logic’d]

[So, they’re screaming again, and at this exhausted point in the day, he really is thinking of calling that wife of his for some advice, because help me logic these children, but he left his phone downstairs, and there was no way he could get all the way back down there. He had to keep rocking, right? 

A sigh, even. A deep sigh as he tried to rock harder, but that didn’t seem to work.]

Shh sh shhh. You’re gonna make me look bad, and you’re gonna be so tired later. Your mom will kill me. Don’t do that. Don’t make your mom kill me. 

[This doesn’t stop them, and I swear, they’re screaming for a good thirty minutes, with Maddox just repeating ‘shhhs’ to them, over and over again. It’s no good, my man. 

So, he thought to himself, they just want Lucy, right? Lucy was usually the one that rocked them to sleep. Both of them even. So this was just weird to them. They didn’t want him to rock them to sleep. Right. 

What was it that Lucy had said to him about this situation before she left? About how he could fix it too, if they were crying? Oh. Oh, right.

And this sparks an idea within him.

So, here, over the noise of the babies crying--, just slightly loud enough to where he was over the cries...]

Never knew... I could feel like this. [YUP, HE’S SINGING. DO I NEED TO TELL YOU THAT?] Like I’ve never seen the sky before... [The babies have calmed down to just whimpers of cries. He takes this as encouragement to KEEP GOING.] Seasons may change, winter to spring. But I love you, until the end of time. Come what may. Come what may. I will love you until my dying day.

[The babies have stopped crying now, tbh. They’re looking up at their dad with wonder even. Maddox may cry, and whether that’s from relief, or the fact that his children are looking at him like that, he doesn’t EVEN KNOW.]

Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste It all revolves around you And there's no mountain too high No river too wide Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side Storm clouds may gather And stars may collide

But I love you until the end of time.  [And he could see it, while he was singing the song so gently to them babies-- they were actually closing their eyes. THEY WERE FALLING ASLEEP. IT WAS WORKING, AND WAS HE ACTUALLY CRYING BECAUSE OF IT? BET.

And by the time he trailed off, yup, the babies were completely out. Like a light. And Maddox was the one crying now. Indeed. So, instead of getting up and putting them in their cribs, he just stays like that.  And he thought to himself, maybe he wasn’t gonna be so shitty at this parenting thing after all. Maybe he could actually do it-- and he was thinking that for the first time since he found out Lucy was pregnant over a year ago. 

SO--]

[Pretend that other baby is asleep ok. He also kisses the other head too, ok.]

I love you two... so much. I hope you never forget that. You’re the best things I’ve ever made. 

[And he’s wiping at his own tears, because AAAAAH. But, really, he’s so exhausted. Two six-month-olds are exhausting, and since he’s not moving from that rocking chair, he’s falling asleep himself.]

[It’s about an hour-or-so later. It’s like, idk, eight o’clock. Lucy’s gotten home, and she’s looking for her husband, and all that good stuff. He’s not in the living room, or in their room, and she doesn’t hear yelling children, so she’s confusedly heading up to the nursery, and there we have it. Maddox is asleep in the rocking chair still, sleeping children in his arms.

She looks on with such adoration and love. Like, how cute is this. She’s taking a picture. She’s sending it to Cilla. Yup.

And then she’s gonna go over to the chair, and she’s gonna put a smooch on her hubby’s forehead, just as a gentle lil wake-up. She’s still smiling when his eyes open.]

Luce-- you’re home.

Tired?

Your kids sure do like to scream.

Mhm, but I see you managed to get them to sleep though. [She taps him, like, ‘come on, get up and put them in their cribs’, and very gently takes one from him to put them in said crib.]

[So, he’s putting the other child in the other crib. Nice and gentle. Good job. No babies stirring.] Well, I did what you said. I sang to ‘em.

[An eyebrow raise as they’re quieTLY stepping out of the nursery.] Did you?

Mhm.

What’d you sing? 

[He dips his head like he’s bein’ bashful about it, the nerd idiot.] Come What May.

Well. That makes sense.

Why?

Because I sing that to them when you’re not here.

You do?

Yeah.

[A snort.] We are so married.

Well, duh~. But, how did it go? Today? With the babies? You mentioned screaming?

It... wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. 

Oh, really~? 

I guess I’m not as shit at it as I thought I’d be.

I never thought you would be.

[Bc she’s proud that no child is dead, and she loves the goof to death. And heck, maybe that kissing goes on a little while. Or a lot while. Lucy pulls back with a giggle.]

This is how we ended up with twins.

Hey, clearly we can handle it. 

Mhm. Two.

Nah, I got this. I’m Superdad. Let’s have like six more. [He’s lifting her up bridal style even. Go you, Maddox.]

You’re not the one that has to carry them for nine months, Maddox~~.

Eh, I’ll settle for the thing that makes it happen~.

Yeaaah. I bet.

[okay kids with kids, on you go. the end.]