#i have disturbing imagery just linger in my head

[mychemikuromance]

you know what having anxiety and having intrusive thoughts AND having a vivid imagination really does just cause me to torture myself with dumb shit

[frownyalfred]

I came across a post where someone mentioned that Martha Wayne’s pearls were actually her teeth, but Bruce misremembered or blocked it out…

This has to be one of the most heartbreaking and gut-wrenching headcanons I’ve ever encountered about Martha and Bruce. Just imagine the scene—her teeth falling out instead of the pearls, either from the impact of the bullet or from the way she fell and hit her mouth.

The imagery is so disturbing and visceral. It adds a whole new layer of trauma to Bruce’s memory, making his recollection of that night even more tragic.

Also— I feel like we don’t talk enough about what the Waynes’ deaths must have really been like…

The thought that Bruce might have been splattered with his parents’ blood, or even brain matter, from the impact. .. I feel like the writers never really specified where exactly they were shot or what kind of gun was used, which could have made the injuries even more horrifying depending on the weapon. The unease in his father’s voice—something foreign that Bruce had probably never heard before—from a man who was usually so optimistic and confident, might have been the first time Bruce saw his father truly scared. And then there’s his mother’s screams. In Christopher Nolan’s movies, Martha’s screams still haunt me to this day. The actress did an incredible job capturing that raw terror.

But what really gets me is the time. How long did Bruce stand there, in the pool of his parents’ blood, waiting for someone to come and help him? Did he try to pick up his mother’s pearls, or maybe try to stop the blood from pouring out of their wounds? That time must have felt like an eternity for him—standing there, powerless, with his parents’ blood on his hands, the smell of rot from the nearby trash, the powder of the gunshot lingering in the air, the city’s humidity, and the iron tang of blood.

And another chilling thought: what if his parents died with their eyes open? The idea of Thomas Wayne’s lifeless eyes staring up at his now-traumatized, orphaned son is just devastating.

Anyways, sorry for the ramble… I would love to hear your thoughts !!!

oh my god. yeah…..I mean, yeah. I’m getting smacked speechless by some of these anons today.

I actually saw someone knock all their teeth out once like you’re describing and it is gruesome. seeing teeth where they aren’t supposed to be is horrifying.

I think comics and movie adaptations letting the Waynes get shot somewhere in center mass, away from their faces, by low caliber bullets so they bleed out with last words is a mercy, in some ways.

modern guns could make that scene could look very, very different. I won’t go into them here but…yeah. there’s a reason they die with their faces intact in the comics and most movies, in my opinion. and with a few words or screams, maybe, before they fully die.

but yeah. there’s a world where they both get hit point blank in the head, brain and blood go everywhere, and Bruce has to sit there caked in for a while. until the cops show up, and even then, he probably doesn’t get clean for a while, since he’s covered in the decade’s most haunting crime scene.

[roomsofangel]

LOVER, PLEASE STAY. . .

chapter two

synopsis you and wooyoung have been best friends for as long as you could remember, always overcoming everything in your friendship even after a few bumps in the road and confessions in the past. you could always trust that no matter wooyoung will always be there, right?

wc 1.9k

chapter warnings scene where wooyoung is intoxicated but its only mentioned, he’s asleep through most of that scene tbh.

if you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated! ♥️

there was certainly subtle signs, you realized in retrospect, that you had simply been oblivious to. little things, perhaps, that seemed harmless at the time, but were in fact an ominous portent of what was to come. and then, the massive punch to the jaw which would knock you into reality. it was as if all the warning signs you had missed were glaring out at you now. you had to accept the truth, the cold harsh truth that jung wooyoung was no longer someone that you could call at two in the morning just because you needed a voice

jung wooyoung was no longer the one you could listen to for hours on end, and not get bored. he was no longer intertwined with you.

and you were afraid. you were completely and utterly afraid more than anything your mind could fully comprehend at that moment. wooyoung was all you knew, all you wanted to know, and this sudden revelation threatened to overwhelm you with fear. the possibility of losing him was insurmountable. you desperately wanted to cling to his every word, latching onto the hope that somehow this would all turn out alright.

but deep down, you knew better.

you weren’t sure why you stayed.

seonghwa breathed a sigh of relief when he opened the door and saw you standing there. “finally, you're here,” he said, his relief evident in his voice. “he’s on the couch, he didn't even make it there himself. i had to drag him after he passed out on the floor.” he sighed again as he led you inside the familiar home, your gaze taking in the surroundings as you tried to assess the situation.

you frowned as the imagery in your mind clashed with the reality in front of you. wooyoung was there, passed out on the couch, curled up in a blanket. his lips were slightly parted, and soft snores were coming from his mouth. everything about this sight reminded you of the old wooyoung, the one you had fallen for. it was as if this sight was frozen in time, the only disturbance being the slow rise and fall of his chest indicating his breathing.

every part of you wanted to linger here, to simply stay in this moment with wooyoung. as if this was proof that he hadn't changed, that deep down the same man was still there. the small motions of his body were like comfort to you in this dark time. all you wanted was to stay here, to observe him as he slept, and forget the world outside.

“he was drunk off his ass,” seonghwa broke your thoughts

"but when is he not at this point..?" you heard him mutter, shaking his head as he leaned against one of the walls, arms folded over his chest. you glanced at him, suddenly acutely aware of your own ache. you felt as if you were responsible somehow, as if you played some part in the pain wooyoung was in right now. your heart squeezed tight in your chest, feeling like it didn't fit inside of your body.

just a little longer. that’s all you needed, just one more moment of denial. could you really let go of the last vestiges of innocence that made you happy in this situation? maybe just for one tiny little moment longer, you could pretend everything was okay. you wanted to beg the universe to let you have that just for one miniscule second.

sighing, you took the first step towards wooyoung, gently shaking him. “woo.. come on, let’s go..” you said, trying to wake him up. the exhaustion in his demeanor was almost palpable, like a thick fog hanging over him and covering his eyes.

“go away..” he mumbled, his words slurring ever so slightly as he tried to turn over to get more sleep. he was intoxicated, although not to the same extent that you had presumed before. however, he was still not in a state of coherent thought, and he was still clearly not lucid enough to carry on a proper conversation with you.

you could hear seonghwa sigh from behind you, "i’ll help you get him into the car," he said calmly. he pushed himself off the wall and walked towards you, and a sleeping, grumpy wooyoung who was groaning about the fact you two cared about him so much. why was he being this way? when had he become so closed off and resistant to your care?

you frowned, "thank you, hwa," you whispered. he gave you a small nod in reply, understanding the situation. you struggled to keep hold of wooyoung’s left side, having to bear his weight as he resisted your care while seonghwa had control over the right side and was doing his best to help support most of it.

it was difficult to get down the long hallways, especially while trying to keep wooyoung propped-up and steady. yet, determination was what made the two of you succeed in getting him in the backseat eventually. after all the effort, you had finally managed to lay him down, though you couldn’t help but worry. the entire trek to your car had left you exhausted, anxious, and filled with a strange sense of relief yet regret.

“you sure you’ll be able to handle this?" seonghwa asked, looking at you with an expression that was full of uncertainty and hesitation. you could see the debate going on in his mind, as he debated whether he should let you go or not.

"it's wooyoung." you said the answer that you thought he needed, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself of anything. the two of you remained in a stare-down, your heart racing faster the longer he doubted you. it seemed like he was on the verge of saying something else, until he finally gave you a small nod and backed off.

he sighed, looking back at the backseat one last time and catching a glimpse of a passed-out wooyoung through the window. he repeated your words, "It's wooyoung," with a more sorrowful tone in his voice. he was concerned about you, knowing just how deep your devotion to wooyoung was. he knew that you'd do anything for him, go through any lengths to ensure his safety and comfort, regardless of the risks or consequences.

he also knew that it wasn't a healthy dynamic, and he couldn't help but worry about you. he was caught between caring for your well-being and letting go of the fact that he couldn't always protect you. it seemed like it was one or the other, and both options terrified him.

"i’ll text you when I'm home, okay?" you tried to reassure him once more, leaning slightly against your car as you spoke. your hand on the roof of the car, you looked at him one final time, wanting to assure him that everything would be okay and that you'd be careful.

seonghwa looked at you a bit longer, "you better." he said back to you with a softer tone, as if he was hoping you would, for his own sanity's sake. he wanted to believe that you would be careful and keep yourself safe, despite the fact that he knew the answer could be far different. it was something that he could never truly grasp, just hope that you'd choose the better option.

getting into the car, you settled in and started to put your key into the ignition. "are we going home?" you heard wooyoung’s muffled voice as he shifted in his seat and moved, laying his head on his arm. he had a slight squish look to his face, and his lips were parted from the way he was resting, looking almost like a pouting child.

you glanced at him through the rear view mirror, adjusting yourself before humming. "yeah, we are." you said, giving one more final look at seonghwa who stood at his front door, watching you with a small and worried expression. he remained on his front lawn, standing firmly as if he wasn't sure of what to do with the current situation.

he stood there, looking back at you for a few more seconds before stepping back, his hand lifting in a little goodbye gesture. though, you couldn't see his expression, you got the sense that he was struggling to hide his worry. he tried to smile and wave as you started to drive off, but the tension was palpable. you felt his gaze on you even as he was no longer in sight, and you couldn't help but worry about him as well.

the next morning, wooyoung woke up, tangled in his bedsheets as he felt a pounding headache and his heart beating rapidly. he wondered how he got here, remembering how he stumbled to seonghwa after getting into a fight at the bar. he recalled seonghwa scolding him for being reckless, and he recalled the fight itself, as well. all he could think of was your face, and the disappointed look on it. even in his half-drunken state, his mind kept going back to you.

he glanced over at the two pills sitting on his nightstand, the realization suddenly sinking in as he froze. he could recall you and seonghwa trying to lift him out of the car and you crying as you drove him home. he remembered pretending to be asleep, trying not to hear your sniffles and cries as you drove. the pills on his nightstand were a sobering realization, and he remembered now what had happened last night.

he took the pills as they were, not chasing them down with water, and he pulled himself out of bed reluctantly, staggering with half-open eyes as he walked to the living room. he searched around hoping to find you, his feet dragging on the floor with every few steps. he was still in a half-drunken state from the night before, but your presence or even just a glimpse of anything that would belong to you would have brought him some comfort.

"yn..," he called out, his voice rough from the previous night. he coughed a bit, walking around as he tried to look for any sign of you. he was slowly becoming more alert and attentive, though he hadn't quite reached the clarity that would give him the ability to see clearly just yet. he stumbled around a bit, trying to stay focused on trying to spot you.

then he saw you on the couch, curled up in a small blanket with your soft and peaceful snores leaving your parted lips. you had seemingly fallen asleep unintentionally, and the remote was still in your hand as the television remained on. he couldn't help himself, standing there for a moment as he watched you rest, seemingly more peaceful than he had seen you be before. it almost made him feel guilty, knowing that you were only unhappy when he was around.

it almost felt like all time stopped, as he realized that all he had done was make you sad. he could see the hurt and unhappiness that he had caused you, not wanting to think about the fact that he was the one who had caused it. it was a sobering realization that he struggled to face, as he felt all of the guilt come crashing down on him.

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taglist @special4u @vampzity @jwone @dulceeed

[jo-harrington]

As Above, So Below - Chapter 9: Deus in Absentia

Previous Chapter: Chapter 8 - Miserere Mei

Summary: What are you to do when God has abandoned you?

Word Count: 15.6k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Original Character (Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)

Warnings/Themes: Van Helsing Inspired, Kas!Eddie, Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Death and Injury, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Discussion of the Upside Down, Resurrection, Supernatural Encounters, Grief, Major Character Death, Gore, Body Horror, Angst, Disturbing Imagery, Heavy Religious Imagery and Implications, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Note: Thank you to @pastel-pillows and @dr-aculaaa for the quick beta reads of the few snippets (you know the ones). This one is...I'm not even sure what it is but it's heavy and confusing and I'm so fucking proud of it. We've got 3 more chapters left until the end, it still feels like there's so much more to go, but we've really taken a turn for the worst...and now maybe we're heading for the better with this one.

Please note that after this chapter, I will be taking a brief hiatus from AASB (maybe til mid-november/december?) to wrap up some WIPs. (CCFest Halloween, the next installment of Gospel According to MV, the next chapter of Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction, etc. I need to clear it out. But we're not on so much of a cliffhanger this time.

This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

“Because I lie and sign myself to lies! Because I am not worth the dust on the feet of them that hang! […] I have given you my soul; leave me my name!” - Arthur Miller, The Crucible

October 30, 1987

The world passed by in a blur and you avoided looking at everyone and everything.

Except for Steve.

It was almost impossible to look anywhere other than directly upon him.

His head.

His body.

Both.

Either.

It didn't really matter anymore. They were both Steve, and at the same time, neither of them were.

They were pieces of him shorn apart in vile rage and wrath, one that something inside you--that the last lingering part of Eddie that resided deep in the pit where your soul should have been--said was unconscionable. But you somehow couldn't bring yourself to agree.

Probably because you, yourself, didn't have a conscience anymore either.

You tried to feel, tried to scrape together some piece of humanity from the leftover parts of your own jagged soul that clung to the corners of your being.

It was a futile task; from the moment that Mary Victoria's screaming stopped, you felt emptier than you ever had.

You couldn't move, couldn't bring yourself to do anything.

Billy regained some control of his body; he dropped Steve's head and ran but Steve's friends didn't give chase.

Mary Victoria scrambled to Steve's side in some futile attempt to reattach his head; she spoke broken words that sounded underwater to you. Whispers, then another scream, then whispers again. She turned to you and shouted something, and then broke down in tears.

Nancy and Dustin hauled him to the car, their own grief temporarily set aside, and debated where to put him. Where could they put him? Had they even figured it out? How many other friends had they done this to? How many slaughtered family members did they have to steel their hearts towards? Did it even matter?

Dustin even wrangled you at some point, shuffled you into the car. Where had you sat? In the front or the back? Who knew? All of a sudden you were back at the Harrington's leaning against the mailbox for support as a few people carried Steve's remains into the garage.

So you just stared.

You never broke eye contact; you barely even blinked.

Time passed.

Your body got weaker and wearier.

The sun rose, an ominous glowing red dawn, on a new day.

Everyone left the garage and disappeared inside.

But someone left the garage door open for you to come in when you were ready, and when you finally were, you trudged towards it.

Towards him.

You would've thought that the ground would have tried to grab you and hold you back, that your body would've broken and failed, that God Himself would smite you for even thinking of approaching Steve like you did.

But it was surprisingly easy to close the distance between the driveway and the folding table that had been erected to hold the body of a dear friend.

The body of a leader. The body of a hero.

Your eyes raked along his form and you punished yourself committing every inch of him to memory.

His clothes, his skin, the stains of blood on both, the way his eyes were not quite shut, the distinct lack of tension in his jaw, the remnants of a scar that circled his throat, and the jagged wound that had severed his head.

The wound seemed to follow along that scar like a guide; maybe it had been one, a weak point Eddie knew would be there to enact some ultimate retribution.

Your footing faltered and you grasped the edge of the table to keep yourself upright, but that only made you lean over the body.

Suddenly all of the feelings that eluded you from the moment Steve's body hit the ground--maybe even from the moment you had returned to Hawkins, as terrible and detached and inhuman as you were--barreled into you.

Steve Harrington wasn't the first dead person you'd seen, or the first that had died alongside you, fighting some monster. Shit, he wasn't even the first one that died because of your stupidity.

He was only the first...what?

What was Steve Harrington?

Who was Steve Harrington to you?

You gritted your teeth and thought about it, wracked your brain for some answer.

He wasn't a friend or family, he wasn't a neighbor or a coworker. He was a comrade in arms by sheer luck, and if it hadn't have been for that night in the tunnels, you doubted the two of you would have ever crossed paths.

He was a friend of a friend of Eddie's. Some coincidental flirtatious fling of Mary Victoria's. Mary Victoria who, you realized, was just as much of a stranger as Steve was. You didn't know her. She wasn't a friend, no matter how much you could hope or think that she was.

You didn't know any of these people. Didn't care about these people. They were just friendly neighbors who unfortunately became collateral damage. They were nothing.

Steve Harrington was nothing.

But that was the reason that whatever was left of your humanity was torn up as he lay dead before you.

An innocent life. Lost. Because of you.

So many lives lost, so many families broken, because you chose to act like some selfish and well-intentioned God, protecting the light when you yourself destroyed the light with everything you did and everything you touched.

They all tried to stop you--even fate; even God Himself--but you refused to listen.

No wonder your prayers went unanswered.

You felt a presence beside you, surrounding you; Eddie's phantom hand slid into your own and squeezed, offering some sort of comfort, but you simply clenched your hand into a tight fist in refusal. Then his hands were on your shoulders and his ghostly lips caressing your ear.

"You could heal him."

No, you couldn't.

"Bring him back."

It was impossible, actually impossible; maybe if you were whole, you could do it, but you knew if you tried, you'd only be confronted with how far you had fallen and how miserably you'd fail.

"But you'd heal him if you could," Eddie whispered. "You'd fix all of this if you could. That's what makes you good; you haven't failed yet, sweetheart."

You wanted to believe him, you really wanted to, but then you thought of Eddie, the other Eddie, the rest of Eddie...and the other you, the rest of you...and all of you together and separate and broken and whole and...and...

Your legs wobbled, your knees gave out, and you finally crashed to the floor. Eddie had the good sense to vanish.

And there, on the ground, you finally broke down in tears.

Because you could get no lower than this, short of burying yourself deep in the dirt where you probably should have stayed all those years ago when the collapsing tunnels had swallowed you. You should have died to spare Hawkins--all of Hawkins, Eddie and Wayne included--of this misery that your existence brought.

You could get no lower, short of diving straight into the pits of Hell itself.

Where you belonged.

November 6, 1983

You did your best to try and keep things calm after Eddie vanished.

You could still feel him and you were still a part of him, but he simply refused to let you follow; however, with no body to speak of, and the Upside Down seeming to rejoice that the chaos it desired won over peace, you had to pick your battles.

So you picked Wayne.

You sat by his side and provided all of the comfort and support that you could; you healed him as much as you possibly could, even though his wounds kept weeping and his body kept rejecting your efforts. You wondered, for a moment, if the serene acceptance you'd felt earlier was the cause of his prolonged demise; if he had accepted death on his own, you couldn't force him to continue living.

But then you felt the waves of fear emanating from him, as he lay there, and stared up into those eyes in the sky that watched you both, and you knew that whatever was causing him to perish was beyond what you could control.

So you soothed his worries, just like you'd soothed Eddie's when Vecna preyed on him.

"It's ok," you whispered the lie to him. "It'll all be ok."

It was also the lie you told yourself.

You tried to distract him from his anguish and fear by telling him a story; the nonsensical memories of your first time meeting him kept him calm, let him focus on his breathing, on keeping his heart going.

You weren't even sure that he heard you.

What he did hear, though, was Eddie's anguished roar as he reappeared on the barren plane of Lover's Lake.

At first you though it was the rage that had overtaken him before, when he'd pulled you from Billy's consciousness; you weren't expecting him to be crying bloody tears, raking his talons into his hair, and muttering repeatedly,

"What have I done? What have I done?"

"What happened?" He ignored your question, so you asked again. "Eddie, what happened?"

He shook his head and kept pacing; as you watched him, you felt like it was a very you thing to do, so you decided that the only way to get through to him might be the only way you'd get through to yourself.

You were by his side immediately, latching yourself onto him like the parasite you'd been to him for as long as he'd been under Vecna's control. The edges of your being melted with his as you ran your soothing hands over his face, his cheeks, his eyelids. You thought of the countless times that he'd done this to you to show you his affection and calm you down.

Finally, when he stopped torturing himself, you whispered into his ear, "tell me."

His shoulders heaved with labored breath, and then he finally nodded, eyes shut as he basked in the feeling of you.

You rejoiced in the feeling of being wanted by him.

"I killed him," he said with a broken voice, sending a shock down your spine. "I killed him."

"Killed who?" you asked, and his lip trembled.

"I didn't mean to," he whimpered. "I got carried away."

"Eddie," you said his name sternly.

"I'm not a monster," he continued. "I'm not, I'm not."

"Eddie, who did you kill?"

"Tell me that it'll be ok," he demanded suddenly, eyes shooting open. He stared...not quite at you, but through you. You wondered if he saw the concern in your gaze, the fear for him, or if he only felt it. "Tell me, please; I need to know."

"I'll tell you," you began slowly. "If you tell me what you did."

He took a breath, building some sense of courage, and then swallowed.

And what followed was one crushing blow after another.

Because as soon as the name "Steve" fell from Eddie's lips, a horrible sound came from Wayne.

A death rattle.

He choked and shook, more than he had since the time his body broke upon impact with the ground.

The rage and sorrow that you might've felt at the revelation that Eddie had killed Steve suddenly transformed into worry and fear for Wayne. As his body convulsed weakly and he struggled to find air.

You and Eddie both abandoned your anguish to go to his side; you hovered over him, hands locked together as you tried to guide him back towards life, but the fight was over, it seemed.

Wayne used the last bit of his strength to place his hand over Eddie's, his mangled, blood-stained fingers locking with Eddie's inhuman clawed ones.

Then with one last look towards you, he was gone.

October 30, 1987

The door to the house opened some hours later.

You had stayed on the ground and cried the whole time, the minutes ticking away--literally thanks to the watch adorned on Steve's cold wrist that punctuated every second that passed, like the telltale heart--between heaving sobs and silent tears that stained your cheeks and soaked the collar of your shirt. Your eyes felt swollen and painful, throbbing inside of your skull.

You knew you should take a minute, recompose yourself, and give your body a break from the constant barrage of thoughts and emotions, but you supposed this was a punishment of sorts.

Still, it wasn't punishment enough.

"Come inside," a gentle voice said from the threshold after a beat. "There's food. Or if you'd like to wash up. I don't know if you've slept out here either, but you could come and sleep in a real bed too."

"No," came your gravelly reply.

There was a sigh and footsteps, then Nancy dropped to the ground beside you. She folded herself as small as she could get, tucking her knees against her chest to rest her chin upon them, and stared up at Steve's body.

You weren't really sure what this was. You couldn't say that you were surprised that Nancy was out here with you at all. Out of everyone who resided in that house, who was left to tolerate your presence? What surprised you was how soft she was. Her voice, her posture, her presence. You supposed she was mourning Steve too, just like everyone else; you could see her own red-rimmed, puffy eyes in your peripheral vision.

But if she was here, you expected some sort of tongue lashing, heavy with accusations and blame.

Maybe she knew that she didn't need to do any of that. You blamed yourself plenty.

"So what do we do now?" she asked, voice devoid of emotion. "What's next?"

"What do you mean?" you questioned in return. "Steve's dead; you bury him or burn him...whatever you do with the rest of your dead."

"No," Nancy shook her head. "What's the next move to closing the gates and sealing the Upside Down for good? Wasn't that the grand plan?"

You hummed in response, a non-committal noise that seemed to irritate Nancy enough to turn and look at you.

"Weren't you here to save Hawkins? Save us."

"And I'm doing a great job of it," you gestured to the table, "aren't I, Steve?"

She scoffed, a very judgmental sound, and then turned away again.

There was a long stretch of silence, padded with muffled noises from inside the house and that ever-present ticking of Steve's watch. You could hear sharp and sudden intakes of breath from Nancy every now and again, and you expected some kind of jab to be sent your way, but none ever came.

Eventually she said, "I know how it feels to want to give up."

"Yeah?" you croaked in reply.

"I think that's all I've wanted since this all started," she continued. "For it to be over."

"Well, people like us...we don't ever get what we want." You didn't quite like the way the bitterness of your words tasted on your tongue but you supposed it was a flavor you needed to get used to.

"People like us..." Nancy trailed off and then nodded. "People like us can't give up, though, no matter how much we want it. I certainly can't do that, not with Holly relying on me. Actually, a lot of people in that house rely on me, so I have to keep going for them."

"That's nice."

"They rely on you too," she said matter-of-factly, and if you didn't know better that Nancy Wheeler hated your guts, you would've thought that there was even some laughter in her voice. "You made them believe in you, with your big words and your speeches and promises. They don't particularly like you. But they believe in you."

"Get to the point Nancy," you finally tilted your head to meet her gaze.

"Do I have a point?"

"It sounds like you're trying to get me to do something and I'm not sure what that something is."

"I'm trying to get you not to just give up," she held her hands out in some sort of offer to you. "I'm trying to get you to get back on your feet and fix this. Because you're the only one who can."

"Sure," you snorted.

"It's true!"

"I don't know if you noticed but I'm not doing so hot. A few days away from ending up like our good friend Steve here, I'm sure," you gestured to your body. "I had time to think and...I guess that's what happens when a vampire starts to suck out your soul? People probably never noticed since the blood loss kills them first."

"Then go back to the Upside Down and tell Eddie to fix this before you die," she snapped. "Let the gate shut behind you, I don't care."

"Never thought that you'd endorse me making a deal with the devil," you snarked.

"Is that what you think of him now?" she asked. "That he's the devil."

"What else is he?"

"He's your boyfriend, the love of your life," she threw her hands up in the air and shouted. "That's what you've been saying all this time right? 'I came back for Eddie, I love Eddie.' That's why Dustin made us keep it a secret. But even when you found out that he was alive and that he was a monster, that didn't change anything. But suddenly he does what? He kills Steve right in front of you and he's suddenly evil. You didn't care when he killed people before."

You couldn't help the laughter that suddenly bubbled out of you.

Where it came from, you couldn't really know for sure. Whether it stemmed from some sort of guilt or discomfort or realization that everything was futile and idiotic since you were dying anyway.

"No," you giggled. "I guess I didn't."

Or maybe that Nancy was actually right and you didn't care at all; it was that dark pit inside of you that swallowed her accusations and spit out the laughter instead.

Maybe Eddie wasn't the evil one, maybe it was you all along.

It was in your nature, after all; hadn't Jinette told you that time and time again.

But then Nancy, with her big words and fiery eyes and ferocious gentleness that laid just beneath the surface, started laughing too.

You were sure, if someone was looking down on the two of you right now, it would be a sight to see: you and Nancy, with your previous adversity towards one another, laughing hysterically and falling against each other.

Little by little though, that laughter produced tears, and then more tears fell, until the two of you were huddled together, crying once again. You were right, all that time ago, thinking that you and Nancy Wheeler were a mirror of one another. The strength, the loss, the perseverance, and the sorrow that lingered just below the surface.

"Eddie killed my boyfriend Jonathan," Nancy whispered. "And I hated him for it. I still do. It hasn't even been two months and it feels like there's this gaping wound in my chest, like my heart's torn out without him, and it's been like that for a lifetime."

"I'm sorry," you muttered back. "I'm so sorry Nancy."

"And then he started helping us," she ignored your apology. "He killed so many people but then...for some reason...he decided to help us and I almost killed him right then. Itchy trigger finger. But Steve...and Dustin...and my brother Mike...they all said to give him a chance. The Eddie who killed Jon, that wasn't the Eddie who was helping us, and I had to believe them, even though the hate was still there.

"Then came the battle. The end, or so we thought. The last stand against the Upside Down. Vecna...he killed so many people. He killed my family. My parents and Mike...and I was so close too, I could've died alongside them, and in those last moments I thought...I might even see Jonathan again. But somehow I was spared; Vecna even took that from me."

Nancy gritted her teeth and choked on a sob and her voice got progressively louder, until those last words, then she was quiet again.

She took a calming breath and kept going through her tears.

"Mom used to make us go to church, but I'd gotten too old for stuff," she shook her head. "Seen too much of this nightmare to believe in a god anymore, especially since the pain just got worse as more and more of the people I loved just kept dying. That wound got bigger, my hate got bigger.

"But then there was Holly...so I must've been spared by some god so that she wouldn't be alone, right?"

She paused and looked at you now, like you'd give her some sort of reassurance. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it. Was there a god? If there was, he wasn't in Hawkins.

Nancy just sighed at your silence and wiped the tears away with the back of her hand.

"There are more people, of course, more people who survived. Mike's friends and Joyce and Steve...and Robin. Steve and Robin lost everything too--their parents and Robin had this friend Vickie that must've been like...it doesn't matter--but they had each other. And yeah, Robin's been there for me, probably more than anyone else in this mess. She's put up with me and helped me and kept me sane when I thought I couldn't handle it anymore. There's nothing I could ever do to thank her. Now she's lost another person and I can't even repay her kindness. But...and I feel bad for thinking of Holly this way...but everyone else had each other, and all I had now was this pain and this hate and this burden.

"Then Eddie Munson betrayed us for the Upside Down again."

You closed your eyes at her words, felt the pang in your chest at the hate in her voice.

"And then you came along," she sneered. "And you killed Barb. That was my friend too, you know; Barb was my best friend. The first time I saw her after Eddie...after Eddie did that to her...I had hope for the first time in a long time. But not for Barb. For Jon. That he could come back too, but Eddie couldn't even do that for me."

"Stop talking about Eddie," you pleaded, trying to stop the tears from starting again, but it was too late.

"But I have to," Nancy insisted. "Don't you get it? I have to talk about Eddie Munson. Because...because you love him. Just like I love Jonathan Byers. I hate Eddie and I thought I hated you too, but you love Eddie Munson. Eddie is a monster and you love him...and he loves you. Loves you enough to kill his friends for you. And you love him even though you're dying because of him and I keep having to remind myself that...that I would do the same thing if I was in your shoes and Jon was a monster too."

She was fully sobbing now too.

"I would do anything, anything, to have Jonathan back," she exclaimed. "I would let the world burn for him, I would die for him. But before I died, I would ask him to fix this mess, for everyone else I loved, because I know how much he loved me too."

There was a knock on the garage door that startled the two of you, and then a muffled "Nance, you ok in there" through the thick wood.

"Yeah," Nancy choked out in response and cleared her throat. "I'll be back inside in a second."

"Kay."

There were footsteps and then you were alone in silence again.

"Sorry," she shook her head after a moment. "I'm sorry. I don't...know what came over me."

"It's ok," you tried to reassure her.

"Are we good?" she asked.

"Are we?" you parroted.

She paused and inhaled shakily, then nodded.

"If we have to get out there and fight again," she started. "I'll have your back."

Without another glance at you, she got to her feet and placed a trembling hand on Steve's chest.

Then, with a clear and steely voice filled with a sense of finality, she repeated her earlier statement, "but you need to fix this. You're the only one who can."

November 6, 1983

Eddie stayed there for hours. Days. He stayed hunched over Wayne's body, further soaking his uncle's clothes with those bloody tears until there were no more left.

And there was nowhere else you would be, even if you could leave, than by his side.

The anguished roar of grief that escaped Eddie's body after Wayne took his last breath had shaken the very earth beneath you, and in your heart, only rivaled the scream he made when Vecna had finally broken him and he'd given up his soul.

You'd never seen him like this.

Never.

Broken and beside himself; he could barely function, could barely respond to your words or touch.

All of the other creatures in the Upside Down knew to leave him to this; you saw neither hide nor hair of them. There were no footsteps, no flaps of wings.

You felt awful at the triumphant feeling that bloomed in your chest to know that he wanted you there, that he accepted the comfort of your presence, however little of it that he allowed.

When he was tired, he clutched Wayne to his chest, and nestled into your embrace. When he was hungry, he closed his eyes and found your wrist, then drank deeply from veins that would only sustain his heart, and not his stomach. And when he felt anger again, he used you; you let him use you like he had during the eternity that he was trapped as a soulless puppet under Vecna's control, unwillingly faced with his humanity.

He slashed at you with his claws, he roared and yelled and lashed out, he fucked your phantom body to find some cathartic release. It was never enough, not like it would be if she had been there, and you had to come to the acceptance that although the two of you were two parts of one whole, you were not home to him the way that she was.

Instead you could only hold him, run your hand through his hair, brighten the void deep within him that got darker with his despair, and soothe the pain.

"Why do they leave me?" he whispered into you in the aftermath of one of those instances. "Why am I destined to lose everything?"

"I don't know Eddie," you replied gently.

"Why did he have to die?"

"We all die."

"No," he growled, unwilling to accept it.

"You've died before," you reminded him, and then you contemplated your next words. "And so have I "

"No," he repeated, snarling this time. He clutched you to him. "No, you'll never die. Not if I have anything to say about it."

"She's dying," you spoke of your other self now. "She's out there and dying."

"Please," he wept. "No."

"Death," you began. "It's not the end, it's just the beginning. You'll always have each other, even if you can't be together like this."

You were talking out your ass, you knew; an empty promise. Half of a lie. Even if he didn't have her, he would have you.

"Just like you'll have Wayne," you continued, "and he'll always have you."

You stared past Eddie now, at Wayne's body just yards away, resting in the pit that Eddie had dug and clawed in his rage. Neither of you particularly wanted his body to remain here, but what else could you do? Wayne needed to go back to Hawkins, and neither of you could take him there.

"Fate is cruel," you whispered to Eddie again. "Wayne knew how much you loved him."

"I know."

"Do you remember the story I told you once?" you asked suddenly. "About the oneiroi?"

It had been a long and hard day for him, still mourning your other self's departure from Hawkins. Dark thoughts had filtered through Eddie's head more than once after she left, and you had no choice but to intervene. To soothe him and heal him, to love him, just like you always would. And to do that, you told him a story about meeting the loved ones you missed the most in your dreams.

You cracked a smile when you felt Eddie nod against you now.

"You'll meet Wayne again one day," you whispered. "Maybe in your dreams. Maybe...maybe in heaven."

Another lie.

The remnants of his soul had long-since vanished though, and you'd said a prayer for it to find its way to heaven, where he belonged. But you knew better, and it was a bitter feeling to sense it...lurking in some unknown distance until it was time for him to make himself known to you.

"Maybe even here," you finished.

Just like Eddie's soul had.

At first, you thought it was a trick of the eye. But you weren't easily tricked; in fact, you had no eyes, no really. Then you wondered, and you couldn't know for sure, if you wished it or willed it into being.

You could see it, even from a distance. The twitch of Wayne's body inside the pit Eddie had dug. It wasn't a deep pit; a divot in the ground, more than a true grave. You could see the convulsions, and then the shifting.

Then you realized with some horror, that those things you'd tried to rationalize--the wishes and the tricks--none of those things had caused Wayne's body to move again. Or breath again, as you saw the soft rise of his flannel-covered chest.

This wasn't your realm; it wasn't yours to control. But you'd been here long enough to know better than to think you had any control. Maybe if you were real, maybe if you were her, you could change things. Maybe you could've stopped it. But you were you, and you'd witnessed time and again what happened to the dead that found themselves in the Upside Down.

They either perished, their bodies consumed along with their souls, or they were revived. By Vecna's hand. Or by Eddie's.

So how was Wayne moving now if the attempts to revive him had failed?

You watched in horror as his hands flinched and twitched, and then reached for the edge of the pit. You froze as he hauled himself upright, and then turned his head towards you in a stiff and unnatural way.

He stared right at you and you stared back at him, unable to look away.

Eddie hadn't ever truly been able to witness your form and Wayne had only been able to see you because he was dying. But for Wayne to be able to be alive again and look at you, see you, when you weren't really there? There had only been one set of eyes that had really looked upon you during your time here in the Upside Down.

And they were no longer in the sky.

You clutched Eddie to you, as if to smother him in your presence, in your being, so that he wouldn't see Wayne standing there. Healed. Alive. Whole. Other.

But it was too late.

The gasp that came from Eddie was the first nail in the coffin.

The tears that dripped from his eyes as he got to his feet were the next.

Each of the words that spilled from his mouth as he rejoiced in the resurrection of his uncle were like the strike of a hammer against the coffin lid to ensure it was secure.

And the embrace that he pulled "Wayne" into, a death bell.

The ground trembled beneath you, starting from the place where "Wayne" stood and radiating outwards; you could sense from all distances, the creatures of the Upside Down rejoiced the his presence. At their release.

You were frozen in terror at all of it.

Vecna, when it came down to it, was only human--even with all of his power--and, in a way, so were you. So was Eddie. For all that time, you'd done your best; you'd used your love, your tricks, to counteract the poison of his curse. You could fight against a human to spare Eddie from pain and death and his ultimate demise.

But this?

You were only human. And so was Eddie.

You didn't know how to protect Eddie from this.

October 31, 1987

You woke to the sounds of trick-or-treaters outside of the Harrington's garage.

It was an unexpected thing to hear and it startled you, their little voices shouting in tandem, followed by laughter. It seemed strange and out of place, especially considering the grimness that lingered in the garage with Steve's decaying body just a few feet away on that table.

The fact that it even was Halloween surprised you, but you hadn't really been keeping track of the date, especially not after your time in the Upside Down.

You forced yourself to your feet, body aching, and lifted the garage door to step outside.

The late afternoon sun greeted you, as did the crisp fall air; the neighborhood wasn't flooded with children trick-or-treating, but there were a few groups going around. All followed by parents with their weapons to protect from any horrors that lurked in the shadows; the Upside Down still posed the greatest threat, even if it was a holiday.

But there was just something so human, so normal, seeing them. Even in the face of danger and death, here they were, looking for a little bit of joy.

Your heart ached at the thought, and you wondered if that was Eddie reacting to their participation in his favorite holiday.

You watched as two little princesses, their taffeta dresses donned over matching turtlenecks to protect them from the chill, walked up the driveway hand in hand, scurrying between the parked cars, to approach the group hanging about on the Harrington's porch.

"I hope you guys like cookies," Dustin told them after their greeting, and he held out a bowl with plastic-wrapped treats. "Mom baked them fresh this morning."

Once they were gone, Dustin--who must've noticed you as soon as you stepped outside--waved you over.

"You remember Max and Will," he gestured to his friends who were situated in lawn chairs. "And maybe you remember Lucas too?"

"From the tunnels," you greeted. "Hi."

"Hey," Lucas shot you a tentative little wave, and then tried to get up to offer his seat to you. You motioned for him to stay seated, and then leaned against the side of the house.

"And Lucas's sister, Erica," he gestured to the girl sitting beside Max, who was the only one dressed for the occasion. A witchy purple dress and glitter makeup expertly applied on her face; it was cute and spooky and fitting for a young teenager like her.

"No trick or treating for you guys?" you asked, mustering up a small smile.

"We were going to," Max piped up, and then gestured down to the object in her lap. "Brought my trusty Michael Meyers mask and everything."

"I was actually going to go and spend the night at my friend Shelly's house," Erica interjected. "We all planned to dress as witches and do a seance."

"Oh yeah?" you asked, the part of your brain that always collected little tidbits about spiritualism and the supernatural activated. "Well, be careful. It's Samhain...spirits can travel between worlds easier. You don't want a ghost to follow you home."

"It's Halloween, it's make believe," Erica narrowed her eyes at you. "Besides I can't go."

"Why not?"

"Our moms asked us to stay close," Will explained.

"We're, uh," Dustin shuffled in his seat. "We're..."

"We're having a memorial for Steve later tonight," Lucas finished for him.

All of the kids looked a little somber at those words, shifting in their chairs uncomfortably.

"Oh," you replied softly, unable to really say anything else.

Dustin, of course, had to make light of the heavy moment. He held out the bowl of cookies to you.

"It's a potluck dinner," he explained and then gestured to the cookies. "Mom was already baking, so she figured she might as well make some extras."

"I'm ok," you tried to refuse the cookies.

"You didn't eat dinner last night," he insisted and you guiltily shifted your gaze away from his. "Or breakfast this morning."

He shook the bowl, and you sighed and took a cookie anyway, not willing to explain that you had no appetite. And even if you did, you knew it would turn to sawdust on your tongue anyway.

You stood there and basked in their conversation and in the trick-or-treaters that came. The boys all ooh'd and ahh'd at the visitors costumes; Erica continued to pout about not being able to go to her friends house until her friends actually showed up for treats, then she stood on the lawn and chattered with them until it was time for them to go; and Max...Max just sat there stiffly until the conversation started back up again, her unseeing eyes somehow always locked on you.

Like she was acutely aware of your loathsome presence.

You wondered for a second if she knew something was wrong with you, sensed it through any sort of lingering connection that you left behind when you'd made the journey into her mind. Had you left a bit of yourself in there too? Or maybe you were just reading into it too much?

"When was the last time you celebrated Halloween?" she asked suddenly, startling you from your thoughts. All of the kids turned to you with curious expressions.

"Uh," you frowned and thought about it.

When was the last time?

"Last October I was..."

You knew where you were in November; Nonna had passed away. That anniversary was coming up, wasn't it?

"...I was in upstate New York, trying to stop this old man...Goodrich...from sacrificing virgins in exchange for endless riches."

"Woah," all the kids sat up a little straighter in their seats.

"You know, all the crap we've seen, it would've been nice to have some variety," Will joked. "What else? The year before that?"

Ok...what was that...you remembered wishing you could be back in Hawkins.

"I was in Italy actually," you recalled. "Someone stole the shroud of Turin to invoke the Anti-Christ. It didn't work; that's not what relics are for."

"Ok that's still cool."

"Relics? Like in DnD?" Lucas questioned.

"Yeah," Dustin laughed. "She's a paladin."

"I am not a paladin," you rolled your eyes.

"Yeah you are," he insisted.

The boys all started tripping over themselves asking questions and bickering--even Erica getting into the mix, spouting off facts and stats about DnD gameplay--but Max had to interrupt them with a laugh.

"Halloween! Hello!" she clapped her hands. "You nerds can argue later; I haven't heard an answer to my question yet."

You smiled at them, feeling something akin to relief that they got to behave like silly teenagers amidst all of the bullshit that was brought into their lives.

You didn't want to leave Max hanging though, so you thought back again, and said very casually, "1984...I was in Hawkins that year."

But then you all got quiet.

Because you all remembered what happened, to each of you respectively, in 1984.

You, especially, felt your stomach churn. Not about the tunnels or Eddie or Gabriel or anything else. You remembered where you were on Halloween. Not that far from here, actually. At a party where you came across a drunk Billy Hargrove, Max's brother.

A party where you were dressed like Judith...with the decapitated head of Holofernes.

Your mind raced at all the parallels, at all of the strings that tied everything together. A severed head and Billy Hargrove, these kids in the tunnels, the looming threat of the Upside Down. That even the knife that you'd worn on your belt that night had been the one you'd told Mary Victoria to take from your glove compartment just a few weeks prior.

What was next? Was Gabriel going to show up and lead you on some other fated path? Or was this the end of said path all along?

Speaking of fate...fate was cruel.

Because just like it had three years ago, as the night fell on Hawkins, the horrible creatures of the Upside Down came out to play.

It was almost uncanny how quickly they attacked when the sun finally dipped below the horizon, like they were waiting for the brief reprieve that Eddie had afforded the town to expire so they could go on their hunt.

And you'd just mentioned Samhain, and spirits--monsters--ability to travel between worlds easier; you should have kept your big mouth shut.

You heard the wash of screams first, echoing down the street; initially, it just sounded like the screams of the children, excited for their tricks and treats, but then they grew in volume, and mixed with snarls and death cries.

All of the kids got to their feet, Dustin and Lucas with their weapons of choice in hand, as thundering footsteps seemingly shook the ground below you, and a sea of creatures spilled down the street, all tripping over one another to race to get to their prey first.

You all watched in horror as teeth ripped into flesh and one parent sacrificed themselves so that the other could flee with their children. As a group of younger teens used their treat-filled pillowcases to swipe at the monsters before they succumbed to the overwhelming attack.

Then the bats began to swarm, darting over the tops of houses and swooping to claw and whip and bite from the sky.

"Get inside!" Lucas finally shouted, arm already around Max to lead her towards the door. "Go! Now!"

But his screaming alerted the creatures to your presence, and several of them shifted their momentum to run towards the Harrington's house.

Dustin grabbed your arm and pulled you behind him, as you all scrambled to get into the house. The door slammed shut just as the heft of several demogorgons rammed into the side of the house; they roared from being denied their hunt.

There were shouts from further inside the house as everyone began reacting to the barrage of bodies ramming against windows and walls, and the screams from outside. Joyce had pushed her way past the others to get to her kids, her arms enveloping them in the biggest hug she could. As if she could protect them from the horrors of the world.

In fact, everyone crowded together, holding their loved ones, shushing each other with each and every scream that came from beyond the safety of the house. They chattered over one another, coming up with plans to keep the house secure, barricading doors and possibly boarding up windows. Nancy was at the back of the group, crouched down, trying to comfort Holly who was crying softly and saying something inaudible into Nancy's shoulder.

And then Mary Victoria, who wasn't even part of the group; she just stood back, wringing her hands together nervously.

Mare looked...

She looked fine, but the devil was in the details. Eyes puffy from crying, obviously anxious as you had already observed, she wore the same bloodstained clothes from the other night when you'd brought Steve back.

Guilt ate at you again, another little nibble to your insides where it had taken great big bites before; you hadn't even thought to check on her once you'd gotten back. Instead you'd sat in your self-imposed punishment in the garage, surrounded by guilt and self-pity and death while you waited for the decay of your own existence to consume you.

You were a bad friend...if you were even her friend; you'd doubted that friendship once in the past 48 hours and now here you were, doing it again. Because here the two of you stood, amongst this crowd of family, friends, and neighbors all facing their own demise, staring at each other across a great and unfamiliar void. Each of you alone, but Mary Victoria even moreso.

Because you'd brought her here, you'd left her to her own devices, you'd encouraged her to make friends...and now she'd been abandoned by all of them. By choice or circumstance.

You glanced between Mare and Nancy again, and you were about to open your mouth to address the group, to calm them and come up with a plan when a vicious and unforgiving BANG came from behind you.

The room went silent, and you turned on your heel to stare at the door. Another BANG and then another. The whole group startled as a series of roars also sounded from the other side of the door, and there were even a few frightened sobs.

You, however, stayed rooted in your spot; in fact, you even took a step forward, closer to the door. If something managed to come through, it would deal with you first. Powers or no powers.

At the very least, if it was Eddie controlling the creature, he might even decide to spare you.

Surprisingly, the roaring and the banging stopped, and instead there was scratching at the wood of the door. A single scratch, and then a fast, repetitive barrage of scratches. Then back again to several, single scratches. It was not like a demogorgon. Or a bat.

Something else.

You took another step towards the door and everyone shouted for you to stop.

"What are you doing?" Mary Victoria pushed her way through to the front of the group and grabbed you by the meat of your upper arm, her fingers digging and pinching painfully to hold you back. "Do you have a death wish? There's something on the other side of that door that wants to kill us."

"It would've given up by now," you tried to pull away from her. "Let me go, I think we're fine. This is different."

Mare pulled you closer and you turned to face her to try and get her to let up, but she was quicker.

"You're gonna get us all killed," she hissed at you. "All of these people. Because you have this inherent need to be right, to do whatever the fuck you want. Because you have this savior complex and victim complex and inferiority complex, somehow all at the same time. So can you just. Give. Up."

Each word was said with such bitterness and hatred, and it was justified; if anyone could tell you those things and you'd just stand there and take them, it was her.

That didn't mean you'd listen to her though.

"Maybe I do need to give up," you agreed. "Maybe I am this...awful blight upon the earth."

She faltered, her eyes and voice losing their hardness, and tripped over herself to say, "Well, I didn't mean--"

"You didn't," you interjected. "But I do. You don't need to think all of those things or any of those things about me Mare, I think those things myself. So yes, I am actually all of those things, and probably a million more. But you got one thing wrong. I don't just need to be right.

"I am right," you said with a tone of finality and freed yourself from her grasp.

God, wouldn't this be the moment to prove yourself wrong; here goes nothing...

You reached out and grasped the doorknob, and twisted it.

What was on the other side of the door was unexpected.

A shock, but a good one.

A single demodog, its flesh mottled with cuts at various stages of healing. Its cone shaped head opened and it roared--well,squawked--at you, and then it pushed its body against yours, rubbing against your legs.

"Cerberus," you muttered in surprise.

The group behind you all chattered together and Mary Victoria even said a snide "I didn't know you could domesticate one of those" but you ignored them to pay attention to your little friend.

He was alive; he made it. A little worse for wear, but he made it. The same joyous, light little creature that huffed and batted his head against your hands until you gave him the pets he desired. The same little monster that you felt some kind of affection for because of how much he felt like Eddie, how much he felt like home.

You had so many questions, ones that you knew Cerberus couldn't answer.

Why were the creatures attacking Hawkins again? What did that mean?

Was Eddie enacting some kind of plan to get you back? Had he sent Cerberus because he was the only creature he trusted to find you?

Or worse, was this in response to some kind of devastating loss? Had Wayne finally passed? Was it too late?

As if sensing your flurry of thoughts, Cerberus opened his petal-like mouth and gently clamped down on your wrist, shifting his body back towards the door to pull you forward.

Maybe it was all of the above? Or maybe it was a trap.

"Ok," you nodded and tried to free yourself from his grasp; even though he was a friend and his teeth weren't piercing your skin, you would rather not risk it. "I'll come."

That, of course, wasn't the right response according to the whole group behind you.

"Are you crazy?"

"That thing's a monster; kill it!"

"It was nice knowing you."

Cerberus stomped impatiently when you stopped and turned back to them. Your eyes roamed over each of their faces; you absorbed it all, the hate, the anger, the fear, the uncertainty. No one was going to follow you now, not that many had in the first place. But you had lost any hope of people being in your corner, especially now that you were seemingly making an idiotic choice.

Your gaze finally landed on Nancy, though, who stood protectively in front of Holly, and she hesitated for a moment, then nodded in some sort of pseudo approval.

Her words echoed in your mind: You need to fix this. You're the only one who can.

"I'm doing what you all wanted," you announced to them. "I'm going out into the darkness and either getting myself killed or fixing this absolute mess that I've only made worse since I got here. So either way, you come out ahead."

"We don't want you to die too," Dustin exclaimed with tears in his eyes.

"Dusty," Claudia shushed but you shot, what you were sure was, a tired smile at him.

"They can't really kill me," you explained. "Not if I'm dying anyways."

Dead was dead; you were ending up in the same place, regardless.

"What if," Mary Victoria began then. "What if we just...went into the Upside Down and torched the whole thing?"

"What does that solve?" you asked.

"Nothing, I think it would make me feel better though."

You snorted and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"How about," you raised your eyebrows and tilted your head conspiratorially, "if I do actually die, you get to use all the fire you want to avenge me?"

She contemplated it for a minute then nodded.

"I think I could accept that offer."

Your hand moved from her shoulder to clasp her own for a moment.

"Thank you for coming on this journey with me; see you around, Mary Victoria," you bid her farewell, and then followed Cerberus out into the night.

You were really getting tired of all this walking across town.

If Eddie wanted to chat, there was a perfectly usable gate right around the bend, but no, you needed to go over hill and dale, across the tracks, and now you were in the middle of nowhere.

Shit, if you were smart you would've just driven; gotten in the car and went. Cerberus could've had his head out the window.

Would that be as fun for a demodog as it was for a real dog?

"Maybe if reincarnation is real, in another lifetime, you would be a real dog and Eddie and I would have taken you out for walks. Instead of whatever the fuck this is," you told him when you'd stopped for a rest.

He just stood there and panted at you cutely...or as cutely as he could, considering he was a monster.

"You'd like that huh, Cerbie?" you reached out and gave his little head a pat and he basked in the attention.

Cerberus was doing his best to keep you safe, though; any flapping of wings overhead or snap of a twig and he would turn, hackles raised, and growl to fend off any potentially ill-meaning predators. However, there was one rustle from the trees that didn't sound like anything else, and it had startled you more than any of the other sounds had, but Cerberus seemed to ignore it.

Or maybe tolerate it?

His comrades were out here--the other creatures of the Upside Down--even if he rejected them to stay by your side. The brides could very well be flying overhead, looking for a quick kill and Cerberus knew he couldn't fight them. And Billy was also out there, as far as you knew.

Maybe even back under Eddie's control.

You tried to stay calm, tried to stay brave, and in order to do so, you convinced yourself that Lucy was out there in the darkness. Yes, that must be it; she was following along in her towering Splinter Cat form, as some sort of unseen protection, and Cerberus could sense she was a friend.

You knew better than to call out to her though, to be sure; it would be stupid to invite something to you on a dark and dangerous night.

So you continued your blind belief that it was Lucy.

It was a nice thing to think.

Eventually, you reached...well, you weren't quite sure about it until you got there, but when you got there, you were sore and tired and probably more than a little bruised. Climbing a hill in the dark with a weak body and only a dog-thing for assistance wasn't exactly an easy task. You grumbled and yelped and cursed.

But when you got to the peak of Weathertop, and saw the sprawling landscape of Hawkins below you, you felt some kind of...peace.

Well, as much peace as you could feel, as smoke and glowing fire and the ominous, ever-present red of the active gates illuminated the town.

Aside from the distant silhouettes of bats flitting by, the sky was serene.

That inky black that wasn't really black, but blues and violets and who knew how many other colors that were unseen to the human eye. Stars freckled that infinite and endless expanse of space, twinkling and winking down at the world. Watching, waiting, begging for someone to just look up at them.

The closest someone would ever come to witnessing Heaven before they died. The star-filled sky was a promise.

Living so close to the city all your life, you hadn't ever witnessed the true majesty of the stars and the sky until you ran away from home, and you really never got the opportunity to enjoy it until you came to Hawkins and met Eddie.

In hindsight, it was more special when it was with him.

The closest you might ever come to Heaven had been your time with him too.

"Where is Eddie, anyway?" you tilted your head away from the sky, away from the heartache, and looked back down at Cerberus, only to find that your little friend had vanished.

You called his name once, then again, squinting into the darkness to see if you could make out some shadow of his body running around the grassy hill. You even tried calling for Lucy, on the off chance she was around, but you received no response.

"Just great," you huffed and wrapped your arms around yourself. "When someone finds a demogorgon using my femur to floss its teeth tomorrow, at least Mare will know she was probably right about this being a trap."

You sighed and looked around.

"Or maybe he just got distracted by a squirrel," you rationalized, unsure of the last time your friend got to have a decent meal.

Still, you were alone.

And being alone in the night and the dark had never truly bothered you before; it was knowing that you weren't actually alone that was frightening. Knowing that something was out there, itching to kill you, was the scary part.

At least before, you had your power to protect you.

"What do I have now?" you huffed a sarcastic laugh. "God?"

You looked up to the sky again; hadn't you just thought that the sky was the closest thing to heaven that a human would witness in life? Was he up there watching? Protecting?

"Gloating?" you asked. "Maybe this wasn't Eddie leading me here, maybe this was you leading me on another path so you could gloat. Well here I am! I'm waiting for the 'told-you-so.'"

You held your arms out and tilted your head back and waited.

But nothing came. No voices, no lightning...nothing.

"You could've at least sent Gabe to stare at me with those dead eyes," you finally continued, and folded your arms against your chest once again. "But I know that's not your M.O. No I have to learn lessons myself, I need to earn forgiveness myself.

"Actually," you looked back up at the sky with raised brows, "actually, I have received forgiveness. Eddie gave it to me in the church. So hah. I think I win this battle. I'll be up in heaven soon to lodge my complaints to you in person. And I have a long list."

You laughed at the joke and then really thought about that night in the mirrored version of the church with Eddie. How beautiful and perfect those moments had been. After that, you'd really started to believe that you were worth salvation...and instead, you began your descent into decay.

"Is that what you actually wanted though?" you continued, asking a God that was probably not listening and would never answer. "To be done with this? Just like I am? Done with this curse and this family and this damnation? Done with me?

"I know I haven't been the best, but I think I've done my best, haven't I? Saved so many people, stopped the darkness time and again. How many years have been devoted to your service, to goodness, to the light? Not just by me, by all of the Knights. My nonna? What had she ever done to deserve what she got? We've all done the right thing, done what you've wanted, even if it hasn't been the right way for some of us.

"There had to be a reason for you to have chosen us? Why did you choose them, us, me? When it could've been any old so-and-so off the street. Why did you choose me when you expected me to fail?"

You shouted the last words and then heaved several deep, shuddering breaths, heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Your body was a battleground of sensations and emotions as you tried to recompose yourself: pain and tiredness and sadness and anticipation and love and hate and hate and hate and fear.

And for what?

"Why did you let me taste the light," you muttered desperately, "when the plan all along was for me to die in the dark?"

"We could wait til the morning," came an oil-slick, smarmy voice from behind you. "If that would make you happy."

You whirled on your heel and came face to face with the instrument of your demise.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You shouted up at the sky, rage engulfing you once again. "You're gonna let Fred kill me?"

You weren't even surprised that you'd die this way. Caught with your metaphorical pants down, yelling at an invisible god, crying pathetically. But if a demogorgon ate you, at least you'd have some kind of dignity; this was just cruel.

"For what it's worth, I'm not the only one who volunteered," Fred sneered.

"That's so comforting," your head snapped back towards him. "And you won? I'm sure you're elated."

"The others got to taste you," he hissed. "It was my turn."

You did your best to stop from gagging; there was no way that Eddie would let him get his hands on you.

"I need to talk to your boss," you demanded. "Put him on the line."

"Eddie's not the boss anymore," Fred spat.

What?

"He won't be taking any calls."

"Then I need to complain to someone in charge," you snarled, trying to keep your sudden panic under control.

Eddie wasn't in charge? What did that mean? The Brides and the other vampires were engaged in some sort of fuckery that you'd witnessed in the Upside Down; you thought that was just to get rid of you, to remove Eddie's distraction, to get some kind of freedom. But to depose him completely?

You expected for Fred to either laugh in your face or cut you down, but instead he did what all of your adversaries tended to do with you: tell you their plan.

How many times had it happened? You must've just had one of those faces...

"When we died," Fred slunk towards you, one slow step at a time, wings dragging on the ground behind him. "Vecna needed us. We became a part of him, a part of the Upside Down, and in return, he regained enough power to cross back into Hawkins and enact his revenge. Our family and friends were killed...and we couldn't do anything to stop it. Until Eddie saved us."

His words were both reverent and wicked, that he saw Eddie as a leader, as a hero.

"He was ours," he said it with such devotion and desperation. "He saved us, gave us our lives back, tried to give us our souls back. And we all belonged in the Upside Down. It kept us whole, alive, together."

You took a step back at that; it kept them whole? The Upside Down? Hadn't you thought that you felt something shift in the realm itself, that it was laughing at you and mocking you? Was it alive?

"It's home," he said, as though he was answering you, and he smiled his terrifying, fang-filled smile. "It takes care of us, it keeps us alive, and in return, we keep it safe. We keep it fed. It just wants to live...and be left alone. Eleven...she opened those doors, and then Vecna kept them open for his own selfish needs...and now Eddie is doing the same.

"Because of you!" Fred lashed out with a claw and you shifted back to dodge it, only to trip on your own two feet and tumble to the ground. "You and his little friends. He clings onto his old life when we've given him everything! He betrays us for all of you! Why does he need them when we're his family now?"

"He deserves to come home," you argued weakly. "He wants to come home; I need him to come home."

"You were just about to give up," Fred taunted. "You were just about to die."

You closed your eyes for a moment, guilt filling you; he was right, you were about to give up.

"What is waiting here for him? What's waiting here for any of us? People who never bothered to mourn us? Who didn't care for us before Vecna? Who see us as monsters now?"

Then there was a shift, a change; something changed, something drastic. The slimy, smarmy, hateful voice of Fred changed--even his posture--and in its place was something different. Something old. The life behind his eyes was gone, and in its place something ancient and eternal and dark.

Not God Himself--not your God--but a God in a way. It was all true, or none of it was; that was your belief. This was the proof of the former. And now the Upside Down would use Fred to cast its final judgement of you.

"They're home," it said, stiffly and forcefully, like the words were difficult to say through this unfamiliar mouthpiece. "Let the doors shut once and for all. They belong with me. They were alone and I kept them safe within me."

It spouted off their names, both ones you recognized and ones you didn't.

Patrick, Barbara, William, Christine

On and on it went.

Frederick, Heather, Wayne, Edward

"Wayne is mine," you snapped at it, then you roared at it. "Eddie is mine."

"Then come and take him," it hissed.

"Or die trying," Fred regained control again and lifted a clawed hand to deliver one final, devastating blow. "Oh no! Too late."

Involuntarily, you closed your eyes to steel yourself from the pain...to prepare yourself for death...and you thought of Eddie. Both as he was before--imperfect, innocent, human--and now--vicious, monstrous, but still so him. You'd done that before, thought of him in the tunnels when you willed yourself to fight for him. Heaven or hell be damned; he would always be your salvation, it seemed, no matter what.

And now?

Now it was too late, and you'd die for him.

At least he'd be the last thing you saw, in your mind’s eye, before you died.

"I'm sorry," you whispered to him, tasting the saltiness of your tears on your tongue.

And you waited.

And waited.

For some sort of pain or blood. Maybe this was how death was, endless nothingness.

But there wasn't just nothing. There was a rustle of grass and leaves of the nearby trees and distant sounds of roaring and screaming from the town as the creatures attacked.

How long were you supposed to wait?

You cracked an eye open, and then blinked them both, and you stared awestruck at the sight before you.

No Fred. No nothing.

Well, not nothing.

A man, unassuming, hands folded behind his back. Dust floated on the air around him, and he stared at it rather than you, no expression on his face other than indifference. Boredom.

Gabriel.

"You fucker," you spat at him.

His brow lifted in amusement, and he spoke softly, "if I recall correctly, we’ve discussed your foul language before."

"I ignored your advice."

"An odd choice. But nothing that I shouldn't expect from you."

You sat up and looked down at yourself; no gaping wounds and nothing untoward, save for the cuts and bruises and scars you previously had.

"Am I dead?" you asked.

"Why do you think you're dead?" he questioned in return.

"Because I was about to be slaughtered by a vampire!" you shrieked.

"Don't you call me your guardian angel?" he shrugged, as if his response was the most obvious thing in the world. "I guarded you. Vanquished the demon."

You struggled to find the words to respond to that, as shocked and confused as you were.

"You...killed Fred?" It was the only thing you could think to ask, and Gabriel seemed irked by the question. "Where the hell have you been--"

"Hell," he repeated distastefully.

"--all the other times I was about to die and I needed you."

"Did you die?"

"What?"

"Have you ever died before?" he clarified.

"I needed you!"

"You thought you needed me," he explained. "You were always capable to solve it yourself. I would like to believe that tonight was a...lapse of judgment."

You let out a dry laugh and pushed yourself back to your feed; Gabriel just watched, no helping hand or anything, fucker.

"Well, thanks," you smiled. "I guess you're gonna leave me high and dry to handle it from here, so I'll be seeing you."

You turned on your heel and started walking down the hill when you blinked and Gabriel appeared before you again.

"It's a coincidence I was already on my way to you," he said, "when your Fred attacked."

"Oh lovely," you snorted. "You heard my little pity speech."

"He did."

It was a record scratch moment, and you balked.

He. He?

"David Lee Roth?" you whispered, trying to seek some comfort in humor even though you knew that this was...you didn't even know how to put to words what this was.

He. The man. The Big Boss. The almighty. God.

"He believes that you are ready," Gabriel nodded, ignoring your joke.

Your throat got tight and your eyes went wide.

"Ready...for the curse to be broken?" you asked.

The corners of Gabriel’s mouth quirked the slightest bit.

"Curse," he repeated, amused this time. "What curse?"

"The...Gabriel, so help me, if you're about to tell me that there hasn't been a curse this whole time..."

"Have you ever wondered," he interrupted you, "what your existence was for?"

"To save the world from the darkness," you replied matter-of-factly. "To end the curse on my family so they could go to heaven."

"Not yours. Humanity."

There was a beat, but then you couldn't help the laugh that escaped your mouth.

Actually, you started laughing uncontrollably, because only you, only you and only on this hill, and only with this angel would you have this kind of a conversation as monsters attacked innocents just a few miles away. After you almost died at the hand of one of those said monsters.

Do you know what the existence of humanity is for, asks the archangel to the lowly human. Good one, Gabe.

But Gabriel just stood there staring at you, earnestly expecting a response.

You sobered up enough and asked your own question, "why?"

Something that you'd come to learn about Gabriel over years of dealing with him was that he didn't like to draw things out. In fact, it seemed like he didn't liked to be here on Earth at all. Which wasn't your business as a human to know why, but was your business as his charge and the only person who could see him. He might have been a confusing bastard, but when information was important to convey, he cut to the chase.

Which was why it was odd when he said, "I'll put this in terms you'll understand: would you like a job?"

"A...job," you parroted. "What do you mean, a job? What job? I already have a job."

"You," he inhaled an unnecessary breath. "You are in training for a job. The job. His job."

And you started laughing again, maybe so you wouldn't start sobbing. But the tears came eventually, as you lost your balance and fell to your knees.

Gabriel was quick to catch you this time though, your body falling against his, arms tight around you. It was such a strange sensation, buzzing, and you weren't quite sure that you'd ever felt his touch before. This holy and pure and burning thing. Maybe when you were a small child and he was a companion instead of a constant reminder of the burden of your existence.

He was quiet as he let you cry in his arms like you had when you were a child, though. He gave you the time and patience that your confusion demanded.

The job. His job. You were ready; He believed that you were ready. The curse. The Knights. The power of heaven that coursed through their beings.

"Gabriel," you finally croaked. "I need you to tell me right now...that the Knights aren't the precursors to becoming God."

"Thou shalt not bear false witness," he recited.

"Are you kidding me?"

"I am not."

"But why me?"

"Why wouldn't it be you?"

"Because God...and the Knights...they're good," you fumbled over your words.

"And you are a Knight."

"But I'm...dark," you choked. "I'm dark and covetous and mean and evil. I'm empty."

"In the beginning," Gabriel raised a brow and looked at you intently with his fiery gaze. "There was darkness."

"And the knights protect people from that darkness," you nodded.

"But if there was only darkness in the beginning," he continued, "doesn't that mean He also came from the Dark? Like you, like everything else. From the Dark, there comes everything. From the Dark, here comes the Light."

You felt like you were losing your mind with how much it made sense; all of the things you knew, all of the things you'd learned and seen. The unjustness and hypocrisies of the church and of humans and monsters alike, all of your beliefs and the beliefs of others. It was all true, all of it.

This...this was the truth.

"But look at me," you grabbed at him desperately. "I'm..."

"You are kind and good," Gabriel began and you couldn't help but let the tears fall at his words, at the negation of every doubt you'd had in yourself over the years. "You protect those who need protection, and you inspire good in others. You see things that are wrong and unjust and you seek to fix them, and when you can't, you don't force them to be fixed. You honor the will of others."

Like every story you've heard.

"But I'm--"

"Made in His image." He nodded. "And ready to take the next step."

"Why this, why now?" you demanded.

"You often say how tired you are. He is tired. It shouldn't have taken this long. He has waited."

"Can I say no?" you whispered.

"No."

You scoffed and shooed him away from you so you could stand on your own and pace.

You tried to come up with every question, every excuse, every...everything that came hand in hand with becoming a God, and you simply couldn't say them fast enough as the answers poured into your head of their own volition. As some sort of...Godliness was anointed upon you, even though you hadn't verbally accepted.

It was all beyond understanding, yet somehow so easy to understand. Knowledge that you were never meant to know, but suddenly knew, and still couldn't reach in its entirety unless you wanted to reach it. Both tangible and intangible. Beyond a fragile mortal mind, and still made to exist in it, as though it was always meant to be there.

Made in His image, indeed.

"What about the Upside Down?" you finally said aloud, and gestured to the town behind you. "What about Hawkins?"

"There are more things in heaven and earth than can be dreamt in your philosophies,” Gabriel recited, surprising you.

“I thought you only knew how to quote religious texts,” you snarked.

“Some doors were never made to be opened," he ignored you. "And it's best if they stay shut forever. I'm sure you'll find your friends will be spared their suffering if you hasten the process of shutting that door again."

Just like Fred had said, just like the Upside Down wanted.

"What about me? My powers? I'm dying."

"In time," he explained. "your soul will heal. If you can recover the rest of it, the process will be easier. You won't die unless you're careless. I will not be able to save you again."

The rest of your soul, the other you, the piece of you that was in Eddie.

"Your power," he continued. "It's been there all along. You always had the capability, it was your lack of faith that led to your weakened state."

You frowned at him in disbelief, but as his words sunk into your mind, you felt the surge inside of you. Heavenly light spread through your body and although you still felt weak, it wasn't a superficial weakness from your wounds anymore. It stemmed from that gaping void at the center of you where your soul was shorn.

There was still that twinkle though, that warm piece of Eddie's soul that seemed to smile and basked in your strength.

Eddie.

"But what about Eddie and Wayne?" you finally asked, desperately.

Their souls, the souls of countless others, all trapped in the Upside Down thanks to Vecna and now the Upside Down itself. You couldn't just leave them there...

You couldn't leave Eddie there.

Gabriel's gaze got stormy then.

"It seems you've made up your mind, Little Knight."

And then, without another word--without so much as a good luck--Gabriel vanished.

November 6, 1983

Eddie spoke a mile a minute in relief at "Wayne's" resurrection; you could barely keep up.

Not that you were really trying to.

You were trying to hold yourself back, not to scream and cry. Not to pull Eddie away from this thing that had stolen his uncle's body.

He wouldn't understand. He wished for things to be better, he lamented being left alone, left behind. And now Wayne was back and everything was alright again.

How could you take that away from him?

He was happy, he was boyish and lively, and the antithesis of everything that his grief had allowed him to become. Not just in the days since Wayne had died, not in the days since she had left, maybe not since he himself had succumbed to Vecna's blight.

It hurt to watch him have hope, when you knew it wouldn't last forever.

And you prayed, to whatever god might be listening--you saw the corner of "Wayne's" mouth quirk--that Eddie would simply sense your apprehension and use some caution at his uncle's so-called resurrection.

But it was pointless.

"How are you alive?" Eddie asked through his relieved tears. "I couldn't heal you; I couldn't help you."

"A miracle," Wayne answered stiffly. "Maybe it was a delayed reaction; you saved me, son."

His words felt wrong; they felt like Wayne's words coming from Wayne's mouth, but there was an underlying lie to every syllable.

He was a predator, and Eddie was the prey.

Prey that walked right into his embrace, willingly.

"We'll get you home," Eddie continued. "Get you back to Rick's and set you up in that armchair with a beer and the tv remote and all of your bonanza tapes. I don't care how many ho-ho's you get at Bradley's for me, you're never coming back here again."

"No!" Wayne snapped at him, startling Eddie.

"W-what?"

"No," Wayne replied in a gentler tone this time. "No, I would rather stay here with you. How could I leave you when I just got back? Why would I ever want to leave you again?"

You felt sick at the manipulation. "Wayne" had been listening the whole time; the Upside Down always listening, ever-knowing, and always aware. Planning and biding its time until...this.

But to what end? Why was he trying to get Eddie to trust him; it wasn't like he could leave?

Oh.

But Eddie wanted to leave. He wanted to go back home, to his friends and to Wayne and to her. He wanted his old life back; he craved it. That home that he'd made, out in the wildness of the dimension past the edges of the mirrored Hawkins; it was a memory and a wish.

But wasn't that exactly what this place was? A memory and a wish and a trap to get you to stay?

And a place that everyone seemed to want to leave.

Vecna had been banished here, and the Upside Down had made a home for him while he'd recovered. Found the mechanisms of his revenge.

Countless souls trapped here--trapped--but instead of letting them wither without a vessel, the Upside Down kept them safe. But souls sought heaven, not whatever restless waste this was.

Eddie had been broken by Vecna, and then rebuilt; just like Vecna, his body couldn't sustain itself in the real world. He was more to the Upside Down than any of the others had been before; he was one of them, a part of the hive mind, part of a greater whole...and still he wished to go home.

Because of you.

You'd been getting him to hold onto his humanity this whole time; you were the only part of his soul he couldn't give up. It wasn't his to give.

Because of her.

She had been helping him. Helping you. She wanted to get him home, and whether she realized it or not she'd been pouring her soul into Eddie bit by bit, mouthful of blood by mouthful of blood; you recognized that as you got stronger and she got weaker. If it wasn't for you, he wouldn't have regained his humanity and she would've just perished.

You realized, horrified, that Eddie, who was torn in two between this world and the real world, now had a choice to m--

Eddie and "Wayne" both doubled over in pain, Eddie clutching his uncle's body in worry, even as anguish ripped through him. Roars echoed from the distance, great monstrous calls of loss. Even you felt the jagged sensations encroaching on the light within the void.

Eddie screeched a sorrowful screech, even more than he had with Wayne's death, and then fell to his knees.

"Wayne" dropped to his knees and pulled Eddie into his embrace; you could feel the dark tendrils of the Upside Down slither across your light as it penetrated Eddie's being once again looking to influence him. You dug your metaphorical feet in and stood as strong as you could against it.

"What's wrong son?" he asked. "What was that? What happened?"

"Fred," Eddie choked. "Something happened to Fred."

He rambled on, as if he couldn't put to words what it was that he felt.

"One minute he was there," he shook his head. "And then the next...I've felt them die before but this...it's like he doesn't even exist anymore.

"Where was he?" Eddie's eyes lost focus as he cast himself into the hive mind, as he tried to reach the other brides. "Hawkins? Why? They all went? Come back!"

He roared into the sky and "Wayne" tightened his grip on Eddie's shoulders.

"They need blood. You need blood. When was the last time you fed?"

"I'm fine," Eddie dismissed.

"Please," Wayne lifted his wrist to Eddie. "You need your strength."

"Eddie, no!" you snapped, interfering for the first time. Both Eddie and "Wayne's" heads snapped towards you, and Wayne even bared his teeth at you, seemingly on instinct. "No."

"No," Eddie shook his head, whether at you or "Wayne" you couldn't tell. Still, he refused his offer, and hauled himself to his feet. "Fred is gone, the others need to come home. We regroup and we figure out what happened; I can't...I can't lose anyone else."

He took a step away from "Wayne" and his wings flapped as he readied himself to take to the skies, but "Wayne" stopped him.

"What if," he began. "What if you could guarantee everyone stays safe? What if we all stayed here?"

"I don't," Eddie's brow furrowed and he paused and you closed the distance and latched yourself onto him again, staring right at Wayne as you willed the light to shine brighter.

"Why would you stay here?" you asked him. "Why should your uncle want to stay here? Think about everything waiting in Hawkins for the both of you. TV and beer and friends and music and..."

"Close the gates and protect yourself," Wayne pleaded. "Protect the friends that you have left. If your friend Fred is gone, you need to protect the others, they're the only things you have left."

It was a battle of wills as "Wayne" spoke to Eddie in one ear, and you spoke to him in the other. It was a battle that you knew you would never win; not against some eldritch being, some sentient deity of another dimension, while you weren't even whole.

"They aren't. Eddie you have them, you have them all. Your friends. Your friends. You hurt them and still they trusted you, still they believed in you. To fight against Vecna."

"They left you, they don't care about you. They always leave you. They've never understood you. Never wanted you. You're an outcast. A freak."

"I'm a freak," Eddie frowned, tears glistening in his eyes once again. "They never wanted me."

The thing about that was that you were human, and so was Eddie. That was some advantage that this thing believed it had over you, to use Eddie's humanity against you.

But then, you realized...that was the only advantage you had.

"Home, Eddie," you whispered desperately now and let the seed of the idea be planted deep within him. Not just for him, but for you too. "You want to go home. She's there, she needs you. She's waiting for you Eddie. You can cross the gate and go to her; I know you can."

"I want," he shook his head and looked at Wayne, his own internal battle going. "I want..."

You could feel it, it was on the tip of his tongue; he wanted to go home.

Get there, Eddie, say it.

But he couldn't.

So the battle raged on between an angel and devil on either of his shoulders.

October 31, 1987

The walk back to the Harrington’s was another solitary one.

Thankfully, you had the strength to do it this time.

It was also strange having your powers back.

Back, as though they'd gone anywhere according to Gabriel.

At first, you thought that was a bullshit response—you lost your power because you believed you lost your power; you felt the Upside Down or Eddie or whatever drain you, so you willed you’re own demise—but you knew that beliefs were important. You'd once told Eddie, on the anniversary of his mother's death, that Heaven was anything that she wished it to be. Anything that he wished for her, too.

And in some way, in your newly-acquired God-knowledge, you felt some sort of reassurance that Eddie's mother had received exactly what she believed Heaven to be. It was a warm feeling and it bloomed inside of the void as your Eddie rejoiced in it too.

You giggled at the feeling; it almost tickled.

"Gonna have to get used to that," you rubbed the space over your heart.

You tried to conjure other thoughts, other truths--what Heaven was for your Nonna, your entire family line now that you knew the curse dead broken, for all intents and purposes. You questioned what taking this job really meant...did that mean endless power and immortality? What were your responsibilities? What could you control? Did that mean that you were Gabriel's boss now too? Would he come if you called? Prayed?

That just brought the question of prayers themselves/ You couldn't hear any, from anyone; did that mean they never made it to God in the first place?

However, your thoughts were cut short when you sensed something dreadful happening ahead. It was innate; someone was in danger, in pain, and you knew.

With your restored strength, you took off running, each footstep taken with surety. Until you came across a pack of demogorgons tearing into the flesh of a still-screaming woman.

It didn't take much to kill them.

You reached out and conjured the fires from the depth of the earth to melt their flesh into the ground. You were shocked to find that the fact that their bodies and spirits and minds were not of this earth affected you. It was like a static shock, surging up your fingers. You winced when the last of them let a death cry out into the night, and rubbed your fingers together to ease the sting.

Killing monsters hadn't ever done that before; was that the Upside Down reacting to an adversary attacking it? Or perhaps it had something to do with your soul still being fragmented?

Now that you were aware of the complexities of your existence, fragmented wasn't even the right word in the first place; missing was the more accurate description. The part of you that Eddie had, the other you, was more you than you were right now. Exponentially so. You already knew something was missing, that you had scraps, but...you didn't even have scraps.

You had threads.

What did that mean? Did that mean if you let your soul heal that there would suddenly be another you out there? Would she eventually fade away? Did she just belong to Eddie now, like the Eddie in you belonged to you? How could you even heal it, when there was so little of you left? Your God-knowledge reassured you, but there was still so much confusion.

"Help," the choking voice of the woman broke you from your wondering, and you closed the distance and lowered yourself to her side.

It was a horrific sight; she was bleeding, dying, disemboweled, and missing chunks of flesh. And in the dark, you could see the wisps of her soul begin to depart from her body, ready to make the ascent. It was a sight to behold, one that you only really sensed before and never saw.

"My...daughter," she gasped. "I...can't..."

"It's ok," you shushed her, and cast out a calming energy. "It'll be ok."

With the shackle of your curse and of the church finally broken, you did what you'd always known was right; you reached out and set your hand on her torn shoulder and you cast your healing light into her, poured life right back in as it escaped from her body. Her skin knit back together, her midsection and her other wounds healed in the blink of an eye, until she simply lay there, whole, in the puddle of her blood and demogorgon guts.

It felt good, it felt right, like this was what you were meant to do all along. Your nonna’s words echoed in the back of your mind: you were made for miracles.

You held the woman as she cried, shushed her and reassured her, and then you realized that there was someone else that needed you more than she did right now.

You left her with a soft touch to the top of her head, and then set forth again, running as fast as your body could bear. It still wasn't easy, you hated running--

What good was being a God if you still sucked at running?

--but you finally made it to the Harringtons.

In fact, you bypassed the house entirely and threw open the garage door to reveal Steve's body still on that table.

There was a horrible pang in your heart as you laid eyes on him.

The wisps of his soul had almost fully departed his body; they were thin and faded, and he was almost gone. Gone to heaven, you knew instinctively, whatever that looked like for him.

Could you heal him? Revive him?

Should you?

He'd fought this fight against the Upside Down for a long time; would it be better to let him go? Maybe if you'd have realized that you were the one holding yourself back right after Eddie had done this to him, you wouldn't have had such hesitation and you would've resurrected him immediately.

But now?

Was this what being a God was like? Making decisions. Or, more appropriately, not making them? Making the wrong ones?

You continued to contemplate for a moment, then you reached out to try and touch one of the wisps of Steve's soul. They were intangible, but they intrinsically felt like a finely woven cloth, so many aspects of Steve intermingled with his friends and his family and neighbors.

You even felt a little bit of Eddie in there, the tiniest bit; echoes of the two of them walking amidst a cropping of trees in the Upside Down...talking.

Steve was one man...but his friendship and his protection touched and affected so many. Nancy had said how long he'd fought and how much he'd lost; you knew that feeling, and if you were to die...you'd probably wish to stay dead instead of continuing fighting for longer.

"That's a lie and you know it, sweetheart," Eddie whispered inside of you.

For a second, you were distracted by the smug realization that he wouldn't be able to call you Angel anymore.

"You'll always be my Angel."

And he'd always be the pain in your ass.

"So what are you gonna do?"

"What would you do?" you asked aloud.

He had the good sense to remain silent, though.

You sighed and hung your head, then moved your hand down to place on Steve's forehead.

"I'm sorry I caused this," you whispered to him. "I'm sorry I got the ball rolling on this chain of events; if only I knew what I was doing, things could've been different. I could've saved more people instead of being so selfish; I could've found a way to help and I could've gotten myself here some other way."

Could you have, though? Or had this always been the path?

"But there's no use in dwelling in the past," you continued. "I need you to know now...if I bring you back, it's not going to be easy. I need to fix this, I need to end this. And I'm going to need your help to do it. Save Eddie, save Wayne, save as many of our friends as we can, save Hawkins. You might die again. Shit, Gabriel said I might even die if I'm not careful."

You sensed a bit of apprehension in the lingering soul of Steve Harrington; he wanted to live, but he also didn't want to die again.

"This time, though, if you die...you die protecting your friends, instead of getting your head torn off because of me," you offered him. "So what do you say Steve? You up for one last hurrah? For Hawkins?"

And you couldn't help but laugh as the shape of Steve's soul shifted and almost looked like someone standing with their hands on their hips.

You pressed one hand to Steve's forehead and the other to his chest and you closed your eyes; you thought back to that night in the rain, the way that Billy...Eddie had torn into him, the sound of him choking, the breaking of his spine.

You let the images repeat themselves over and over again as you stayed there on the ground, helpless.

Eventually though, as the scene began again, you picked yourself up, and you walked over to Billy and Steve. You reached out and you stopped Steve's body from falling, and you stepped into him. You didn't need to pour yourself, you didn't need to imagine the threads of his being knit back together; no, you pushed the very essence of life and survival and love and friendship and everything that Steve was back into him.

You let your nimble, phantom fingers stitch his severed head back on with the threads of his soul that had escaped. You willed the blood to flow through his veins instead of spilling onto his clothes. You breathed life back into his lungs; you took every breath for him and with him, until you felt his chest rise and fall under your touch once again without your guidance.

You opened your eyes and stepped back; with baited breath, you watched as Steve's limbs twitched. He groaned and pushed himself upwards with those limbs until he was seated upright. He held his head with his hands, and then shifted them downwards to touch the now-thicker scar encircling his neck.

You cast one more wave of yourself, of your knowledge and plans, into him. You gave him one last chance to turn back and deny another chance at life.

Why did you ever think he would deny it?

Finally, he opened his eyes and locked them right onto yours.

"So," he said with a gravelly voice. "Are we gonna save the world, or what?"

"You are the light in a dark place. You are the water to my drought. You are everything I never knew existed and everything I wanted all at the same time." — Shelly Crane, Catalyst

Next Chapter: Atonement COMING SOON

[ughscara]

⠀⠀──── . + BLOOD–SCENTED ROSE.

જ portraits, veils, melodic tunes and unwanted gazes... doors upon doors close within the depths of urban legends told around town, and a peculiar lady's presence clinging tightly onto surreality... surely that cold chill down your spine wasn't a sign of anything drastic. much less someone watching.

⠀⠀⠀⠀── ꒰⁠ BLACK SWAN ꒱⁠˖ genres unlisted.

word count :: 1.1k

content warnings :: subtle horror themes and imagery ( ? ). mentions of an injury, blood and vague description of dead bodies. albeit only once; reader is depicted to be female. setting takes place in the canon.

additional notes :: my piece for the @/stellaronhvnters halloween event~ i chose two prompts and mixed them together ( phantom & supernatural ) to the best of my capabilities. i'm not the proudest of this particular piece since it was done in a bit of a rush, but i did my utmost :)

tagging :: @mitsvriii , @tragedy-of-commons , @wystiix .

the ever prosperous land of dreams held one's sweetest desires and wishes then transformed them into a most delightful reality. whatever it was a person sought after, whatever they wished to accomplish, and to whoever they seeked to find in life... penacony possessed all of it.

there was nothing that could disturb the sweet dream, nothing to hurdle your descent from the skies as your eyes fluttered open; greeted by darkness for a moment then falling stars the next. stars that seemed to go the opposite direction of your own.

clouds lit and outlined by bright city lights, the hustle and bustle of merchants all around, and the cheerful tunes stemming from talented musicians. awe–striking portraits of penacony's most iconic stars gazing right at you the odd sensation of being perceived dissipating as soon as your eyes darted upwards to admire the artist's handiwork. though that never hindered your journey throughout the dreamscape, moving forward and experiencing all it had to offer.

all the while hearing of a peculiar tale.

the penacony prescribed long ago had long since been plagued by a such tale, a tale that had seeped its way through the cosmos nearbying the planet, and soon enough; to those who come and go.

*death*, they say, never existed in the dreamscape.

“this is a story of a memokeeper,” they always start out, recounting the obscene disappearance of the individual like it's nothing more than an urban legend, presumably deceased and now a wandering spirit throughout the sweet dream. the exaggerated folktale even making her out to be some sort of bad omen if sighted.

bloodhound family records —— those gazed upon by ■■⁠■ ■⁠■■⁠■■⁠■■ will experience penacony abnormally. and eventually fall into their ■⁠■■⁠■■.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

having just took a long walk through golden hour; you settled to take a break. the bar was quite crowded... at least, you presumed for such a place to be a bar, for what you were greeted with were dancing couples; accompanied by warm, low lit lights and romantic tunes. truthfully, you could leave, but your legs could barely keep up with you. so you relent and as quickly as you could secure yourself a seat.

“would you like anything, miss?” a waiter inquired, “no, thank you.” you utter with a little smile. though, you're a little taken aback to see said waiter gaze to someone else beside you. “and you, miss?”

directing your head to the side, you're greeted with an ethereal woman; shielded by a black veil that draped over her face and a long, black dress. the pale lilac hair complementing the tame color of her attire. the lady simply smiled at the waiter, serenely so, as she subtly shook her head. quietly watching the man take his leave.

safe to say, your gaze lingered on the woman next to you, entranced by the sight of her yet more or so taken aback by her presence. this table was unoccupied, was it not?

you weren't given an opportunity to think much about this as she turned her head to face you, violet eyes locking with your own in an instant, that serene smile still adorning her face beneath the silken veil. a lump found home in your throat, and a slight tension loosely embraced your figure upon feeling perceived once again for the first time in a decent while. though this... this was different, this—

“waiting for someone?” her voice gently coaxed you back into reality, the sound as ethereal as her appearance. the veiled lady took a bit of delight upon seeing your subtle shift in expression. and that subtle head shake taking her mind back to a familiar someone in another time. “i explored a lot of what golden hour had to offer. seeing as to how i was tired, i stopped by for a break.”

she hummed quietly in acknowledgement, her expression softening upon hearing your voice. “i'm sure you've made quite a memorable journey thus far.” her voice was but a quiet murmur, a tinge of longing present within it as her eyes fluttered shut, directing her head to the side whilst doing so.

it didn't take long for her eyes to open once again, watchful eyes cast upon those same dancing couples occupying this ball–like room. the romantic tunes still echoing throughout, the low and warm lights rendering you all the more enchanting to woman's eyes.

black swan figured it wouldn't be best to stay like this for long.

the brief silence was eventually broken as the veiled women extended a hand to hold onto yours, mutated hand phasing through your own in attempts to entwine your fingers together. the advance was sudden enough, the freezing sensation of an otherwise unreal touch coursing through your entire being akin to an avalanche. “how about a dance?” she said this, and all that was once around became nothing. all came to a halt except for those romantic melodies that complemented the setting, sounding the slightest bit strained just about enough to feel as though it was scratching at your ears.

you follow right behind her to the empty dance floor, purple hues of light descending onto you both as you engaged in her invitation. heels sliding against the ground in sync, the distance palpable between the two of you. her guidance was gentle, her otherworldly hold on you was but a soft embrace around your shoulder and between you was a white rose.

“(name), wasn't it?”

the lady broke the silence, her voice tinged with fondness. no response came from you, and she couldn't help but marvel at such a thing. “a name as enchanting as the memories you carry.”

the tunes of the violin and piano grew all the more strained, countless eyes watching your every move. the manner in which you danced with this eccentric lady in harmony, the manner in which you subtly rejected her little romantic advances only to be pulled back in and back to square one. those portraits you saw around the dreamscape returning to greet you in this odd realm, those prying eyes you felt once now amplified by a ten. though all you see was nothing, said portraits held nothing but decaying figures as they followed black swan's every move. never once were you able to keep your eyes away from the frames that carried elusive corpses.

you felt a stinging sensation against your chest, such a thing being soothed by her lips on your cheek, the only semblance of warmth your figure felt was through the blood that seeped out of your small wound and onto the vines of the white rose, its petals now adorned with a vibrant red.

with a kiss goodbye, and the last to be seen of you within her own dissipating memories,

the family announced your unfortunate departure within their records.

[copias-sewer-rat]

Drabble: Cannibal Secondo x FBI agent reader [GN]

I start my new job tomorrow... Won't be able to give you chapters from my fics each week from now on (I think) but I wanted to leave you with something before I become an inconsistent mess. This is based on the “if you want to get really close to someone you should try eat that person” monologue from Secondo because it had Hannibal NBC vibes and I live for that show (also that video lives in my head rent free), this drabble is also based on the show itself so spoilers ahead.

tags and content warnings: cannibalism ahead, seriously, pretty disturbing stuff so please be aware if you don’t tolerate cannibalistic imagery or gore or anything of the sort, also NSFW, minors get out, go to bed!!! (Sorry for any mistakes btw, haven’t proofread much).

Enjoy!

- Secondo is your therapist. He is also secretly obsessed with you (you are pretty oblivious to it at first though…). He seems very cold and distant but in reality, he is very easy to talk to, or at least you think so.

- He is also a cannibal that debates between eating your organs, keeping you away from his intentions and nature so you are not harmed, or eating you out and make you moan and squirm for him and keep you all to himself.

-As an FBI agent you have been investigating various crimes related to a criminal that collects their victim’s organs as trophies to then eat them.

-Secondo is clever, elegant and very strong. He wears the most beautifully tailored suits and he puts a lot of effort into his appearance.

-The passion of his life is to cook, to find what flavours match, creating the most delicious dishes. It is a pity that he also loves to eat human flesh and that he finds it so very delectable (and he also wants to feed it to people without them noticing).

-His love language is acts of service, so he starts cooking for you as your friendship develops (and his obsession/crush too). He gave you human meat a couple of times, telling you it was pork or something of the sort.

-Seeing you share his ‘hobby’ in such a way made him extremely hard and after you left his house he had to jerk off to your image eating human flesh. You had told him that it was delicious and he wanted to taste you there and then (in any way he could). He resisted the urge though, clenching his napkin so tightly under the table that his knuckles turned white.

- His final goal is to make you realise your true potential. He can see (or wants to see) that you are just like him, that you would be perfect together.

-He had manipulated you, he knew what would nudge you into the direction he wanted, but that also made you fall in love with him.

-He would linger close to you to smell your scent, hold your hand to feel the blood flow under your skin, anything to satiate his hunger for you just for a bit.

- When you finally discover that he was the cannibal that you had been looking for he injures you pretty badly but he knows you will survive, he has made sure of it by not hitting any vital organs or an artery.

- While you are laying down, bleeding like a sacrificed animal, he kisses you very gently and disappears from your life, having tasted your blood for the first time. He would think about that taste for the years to come.

-After a few years of him being missing you find him, he was hiding out in Florence. He made sure that you could find him of course, that you would realise that you are made for each other. You cannot lie to yourself either, you have missed him so very much.

-When you finally meet after so long, your feelings are so exposed and visible for one another that you cannot keep your hands or mouths away no longer.

-He fucks you like you have never been fucked before. He is gentle and careful with you, but also so ruthless and animalistic that tears of pure pleasure fall from your eyes.

- While fucking you, he bites your shoulder and he tastes your blood for the second time in his life, his canines piercing your soft skin, imagining your beautiful and perfect flesh in one of his dishes. He cannot take it and becomes undone by the taste of your blood alone.

-He had tried to remember the taste of you for so long, cuming into his hand as he pumped himself into pleasure thinking it was you who was taking all of him, hearing you cry his name, digging your nails on his back and drawing his own blood. He imagined you tasting it from your finger nails, it mixing with you saliva and then tasting his own metallic crimson blood from your own precious mouth.

-His grumpy facade does not exist with you. After being so ruthless with you in bed he takes care of you as you are the most important thing in his life.

-If you decide that you don’t want to eat human flesh he will respect your decision.

-But if you fulfill his desires and become what he thinks you should become he is more than thrilled. He feels that he has found in you his other half, his equal, someone who understands him.

- Whatever you decide he will spoil you rotten with gifts, meals, escapades, books, whatever you may ask. He just wants you to be happy, but always by his side.

- He would not take you leaving him in a good way to say the least. If he cannot have you as his equal, he will have you as a meal, feasting on you, together forever inside of him… (that is if you don’t kill him first).

[white-poppie]

Stuck in a vicious cycle

Request: @canthebest1 After your midterms can we have more Illumi content A/n: I gotcha pretty~

Genre: angst, reverse hurt/comfort Synopsis: In his 'made-up' world, you are the only real thing. Song Recommendation: She likes another boy (Oscar Lang) TW: dissociation: depersonalization mention of SH, blood and disturbing imageries Note: I have seen my elder cousin having dissociative episodes so many times...It's so scary to see someone you love just looking like a shell, I hope this helps people with this issue and/or people who have witnessed

(this is from Illumi's POV so extra TW)

"Yes, I understand," I replied, I did reply right? They want me to kill someone---what about it. I don't know who to kill, but apparently, my body does?

I felt the faint lingering warmth on my arms, like warm water shrouding my senses, covering me. I was blissfully aware that I was drowning, but the water was in my lungs and I couldn't help but flow with the waves.

The warmth--I must be outside the mansion. I sat down under a tree...it was a tree, right?

With great difficulty I lifted my fingers to look at their tips, tunneling vision made me crease my brows in anger. I didn't have control over my own body.

It doesn't feel real-- like a sick dream I would be aware from you shook me hard enough.

T̴͔͖͎͇̞͊̃͆̾̑̂͌ͅH̵̗͚̪̲̘͕̪͊̂I̷̛̙S̸̢̰̪̠̰̥̜̘̞̏͆̿̓͘̕ ̶̱͇̲̻̪̫̣̰̬͑Ì̸͙͎̱̦̼̤̲̠̇̌̇̄̆̽ͅŜ̵̰̊͒̀͐̈͝N̸̢̨̥͚̲̱͍͛͑͑́̽̕̕T̴̨̢̯͇̗͕͉̖͕̈́͗̇ ̶͖̣͙̩͔̙̟̰̌R̴̗̓̔̑͝E̷̛̟̳̲̍͗̀̿̌́̓̅ͅĄ̷̧̘̖̼̯̱͙͒̃́̓͑̄͠Ḷ̵̡̟͐́́̚͜

I'll wake up...please wake up.

It felt as if I was being gutted from the inside out, but I was high on tranquillizers. I was holding the knife and I was screaming 'murder', but the voice died in my throat. It never left.

I could hear the faint chirping of birds like they were far away--like someone had grabbed them by their neck and crushed their oesophagus.

I was looking at my own body, like in a panorama movie, blissfully unaware, thoughts running wild, thinking and not thinking at the same time.

"Illumi?" Y/n? it was Y/n right? They are near.

"Illumi, baby can you hear me?" their voice was muffled and foggy, I wanted to say yes, but couldn't. I wanted to hold onto their arm. I wanted to hold onto them, to ground me, to sedate me, to not let me run wild.

I felt their hand on my shoulder, slowly squeezing it. Their grip was tight, inducing pain so I snap out of it, but I could only feel pins and needles at their touch.

"Illumi, try to look at me, please," your voice grew concerned, the white noise was reducing to fuzziness, uncomfortable. So irritating, I wanted to hit my head on a tree to snap back.

With all my left strength, my head lolled towards you. You pressed your thumb between my brows and pinched my nose bridge. Cold, your fingers were cold, it's usually the other way around.

"The grass is sure prickly today, huh?" you said rubbing your thumb on my temples. My focus shifted to the grass near my hand, the strands feeling pricklier than before, as if stabbing my skin, but in a comforting way.

"Illumi," you sat next me to me and whispered softly in my ear, "I'm here, I'm real." It wasn't a dream, you were real, I was real, the grass, the birds; everything was real.

"Come back to me," you said while kissing my eyelids, your warm breath fanning on my face as I blinked slowly.

My head fell on your shoulder as I closed my eyes in tiredness. Your fingers knit in my hair and your scent overwhelmed my senses.

You were real.

🥀 Welcome to Wonderland (byi/dni)    Etiquettes of Mad Hatter's tea party  (request rules)  ▬▬ Wonderland's citizens (taglist) ⏜

♠︎ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲-- (fan-fictions)

TAGS: @denkis111, @jazzylove, @lordmypantsaresocool, @futuristicallykawaiiturtle, @kristaline2dmensimp,@rintaroubby @nanaseishiro @innerpurple.

[mjjune]

7 Snippets 7 People (Feat. Heads Up 7 Up)

I was tagged in so many things this week, I thought I'd combine!!

Thanks for the tag @novel-emma, @vacantgodling, @isabellebissonrouthier !!

My 7 tags: @jamieanovels, @little-mouse-gardens, @elijahrichardwrites, @awritingcaitlin, @verba-writing, @jezwrites, @writingmoth <3

See below~ All of these are from avof! I decided to do 7 random chapter intros (mostly around 7 lines each)

Doing research at the library is always riveting. There are two kinds of people: the ones who read that sarcastically and the ones who read it enthusiastically. Jackie is the kind to read it sarcastically, so she is not thrilled about lounging around in worn out chairs looking through books, having not the slightest clue of what she’s looking for. Lara is the kind to read it enthusiastically, at least under normal circumstances. This time, the study session isn’t to escape her problems, but to tackle them head on. It makes her uneasy: the realization she may find answers, that she may actually face whatever is happening to her mind when she sleeps.

There’s a knock at the door and Danny tumbles out of his king-sized bed, knees lightly smacking the floor. It’s way too early for this. Who the hell knocks on a vampire’s door only five minutes after the sun sets? He knows who. Before he even forced himself out of bed, he could taste metallic vampire musk from the hallway, with just a hint of sawdust.

Every time it’s the same. You don’t know how the flames started, but they’re engulfing everything. Smoke pours in from under the bedroom door and when you place the back of your hand against it, you pull back reflexively from the searing heat. There’s a little boy’s scream, a thud, pounding on a faraway door, and you can’t stay in this room. [read full excerpt here]

The first thing Danny sees when he opens his eyes is Helio’s ripped jeans on the floor. He hadn’t slept—he never sleeps—but he had given Helio enough time to wake up, to grab his clothes and sneak away, if he’d wanted to. But he hadn’t, despite his heartbeat revealing he’d drifted awake more than once. Gentle, so the bed doesn’t move, Danny rises. Blackout curtains keep the place dark, only one beam of sunlight trickling in, a skinny line on the far wall. Danny reaches out for his black robe, which rests on a chair near his dresser. Standing, he ties it around his waist before daring to glance at the werewolf splayed out on his silk sheets. Helio breathes evenly, in a light sleep that could break any moment. Blankets and pillows slump near the foot of the bed, unused, having gotten in the way last night.

[cw: kidnapping / disturbing imagery(?)] Where am I? What happened? Lara’s body aches as her eyes flutter open and flit around. She’s in an empty, concrete room. The walls and floor have matching grainy grayness and a single lightbulb hangs from the ceiling, flickering every so often. The chair she’s tied to is metal and welded to the floor. Her ankles and wrists are strapped to the arms and legs of the chair with cable ties. The delicate skin there already stings, reddened, and she hasn’t even struggled to break it yet.

Danny could have tracked Helio’s scent without a refresher, but he stops by his place anyway. Now is not the time to skip steps and make mistakes. He must move his piece on the board carefully. The police have long gone from Helio’s apartment. Flowers wilt from the drizzling rain on the crumbled pavement. The place is trashed—though, it hadn’t been in the best shape to start with. His eyes linger on a dent in the wall. It’s far too large to have been created by a human.

There is no light in the hallway. The backup generator must only supply the lab. The corridor is long, with only the moon to offer light, dim through the occasional window. Lara leads the way, staying close to the walls, holding Jackie’s hand so they won’t get separated. The clomping boots grow closer. They’re just around the corner now, approaching the door to the basement.

AVOF TAGLIST: (comment or ask to be +/-) @aritany @artbyeloquent @bebewrites @ceph-the-ghost-writer @elijahrichardwrites @eventideintrigue @faithfire @garthcelyn @ghafasinej @jezifster @knosium @isabellebissonrouthier @lexiklecksi @little-mouse-gardens @mr-writes @thyroidhormones @vacantgodling @wildswrites

[matewhowrites]

A Nightmare

CW: Mentions of violence; disturbing imagery; gore

A nightmare keeps me awake. It is of my death; a mess of entrails that a crow feasts upon.

I awake covered in sweat. Still aching from the nightmare. My lower back hurts and my body is rigid; as if I had really lain there.

I would linger here, if not for the familiar chime of my office door jingling downstairs. Work is always calling.

Today my client is a small woman, her shoulders shake as she sobs to me. I ease her fears, telling her all will be well. She pays me in kind, and my hands seem to prick as if beetles are crawling on them.

I take a walk to gather the ingredients of my dinner. Then I settle into slumber.

------

The nightmare appears again. However this night, I am the crow. I look at my body, limp and broken. My limbs are twisted unnaturally and my face is damp with tears. My mouth is open, the underside of my lips is still shimmering with saliva.

My feathered head twitches as my eyes take in the surroundings. There are trees encircling me with buds of white blossoms hanging from the branches. The shadowed branches are almost like figures, standing in the dark.

My entrails are sweet. They burst like a grape in my mouth, full of tender, soft flavor.

Then I hack, the blood is too much for my gullet. And then I wake, panting. The chime rings again.

This time it is a man, his hands are rough and worn. His knuckles are scratched and bloody.

He tells me of his debts, of men coming to his door and beating his wife. I tell him the same as I treat his wounds. All will be well. He nods, putting his hands together in prayer.

I move to rise and he catches my wrist, tenderly stroking it in a way that makes my scalp prickle. He asks if I will be here tomorrow. Although my instincts urge me to pull away and throw him out, I simply smile letting it reach my eyes. I tell him I will. He smiles too, but his eyes are not like mine. No delight, only satisfaction.

He only lets my wrist go when I mention payment. He promises tomorrow he will pay.

When I walk the same path to get my ingredients for supper, I notice a shadow trailing me. I turn around, but it is just a crow.

------

Tonight, I have just been struck. I fall to the ground, unmoving. I feel a weight get on me. A cold laughter.

I awake. Then I cry.

Two clients approach my door. One asks for me for the future of his career. I lie, saying all will be well. The other asks if their daughter will survive her labor. I say she wilI. This time it is the truth.

As I ready myself for my walk I find the man waiting outside with a bag. He turns to me, smiling. He tells me he hopes this is enough to pay.

I try to ignore the stroking of his fingers as I take the bag from him. I nod, before turning to go back inside.

But his hand grasps my shoulder. A weight I cannot ignore.

He asks me to take a walk with him.

I refuse.

He laughs and asks again, his fingers pressing harder.

I refuse.

He leaves. And my hands shake as I try to open the door.

A jingle of a chime and I am safe.

This time, no nightmare comes.

And yet I feel more fear than ever.

-----

I hear the chime. But I do not answer.

I hear the footsteps. But I turn to my window.

I hear a knock.

But I am already on the parapet.

I run, my legs are aching. The world around me blurs together but I can still make out the trees. Trees with white blossoms.

In their shadows, I think I see a figure. I slow my heart, telling myself all will be well. But I know I am lying, for when the figure steps out from the shadows, it is not a crow.

[count-lero]

So I’m bringing something incredibly sweet and tender to the fandom table~

“And what is it?”, you’ll ask. “One second, please!”, I’ll answer!

*rummages in his pouch with fan-art*

Oh! Who could have guessed! Those are some ✨ship feels✨

Wonderfully soft and delicate those feels are. Without any unnecessary angst or anguish. Just something simple but special. 🤲❤️

And I actually believe that such moments between those two happen on very rare occasions, since Metternich is usually quite unbearable and selfish. He simply doesn’t care much, if only it’s not some kind of crazy passion how it was in case of his most famous lover, Wilhelmina, duchess of Sagan. When this love story gets brought up, I always smirk inwardly, as many found Clemens incredibly calm and rational person who savoured life in complete stillness. Like a snake of some sort. However, this affair ruins his “cold and unapproachable” imagery at once.

Like, yeah, he was tremendously passionate.

“Trop de passion et pas assez d’art”

Those were Wilhelmine’s own words. And what a backstab they were at Metternich’s inflated ego. His love towards her lingered in the air until her dying days but he had probably never forgave her fully because of them.

When it comes to my perception of their… ehem… intimate relationships with Schwarzenberg, I see them as something domestic almost. Metternich already had too much disturbances and emotional upheavals in his life - especially in the period between 1809 and 1815 - and he probably wouldn’t love that strictly secret part of his love life to cause him any kind of trouble. He, personally, would probably bring a lot to the table and light-hearted, caring Schwarzenberg is there for it. He is there with his helping hand or his shoulder on which Metternich can lay his overworked head and contemplate in silence. Or continue to speak out on all the political questions troubling his mind. Or complain. Or weep, since he was very sensitive after all. Or dream. Or simply sleep.

Klemens brings almost nothing into those relationships (only in case when Schwarzenberg gets too overwhelmed in dealing with all that sh*t constantly, thus the situation becomes too dangerous, and, of course, the horny element; perhaps too much horny stuff for Schwarzenberg to handle…) and Karl never asks for something back because that’s just how the things work.

Die natürliche Ordnung der Dinge.

(Well, actually no, Schwarzenberg probably doesn’t think that everything’s fine - nothing is fine! It’s horrible and unjust, especially towards the woman of his dreams, but oh well. He had never cheated on her with any other woman. She is the one and only. But Metternich still comes to him and puts everything in his life on fires of Hell.)

So, that’s the main ideas, I guess, and I’m always ready to share them. And will share more in a foreseeable future! Х)

To sum it all up, this art was actually inspired by a certain passage from a book about Congress of Vienna, where the author spoke about all the exquisite dishes which were offered to the guests and their favourite beverage - coffee, since a lot of those men and women passed sleepless nights dancing, playing cards, etc. And after reading that I thought Metternich could probably be that sort of a person who stays awake on his feet for two or three days fuelled by his own passion and coffee, then, with the last bits of his strength, creeps there where nobody is going to look for him, tries to get on the nerves of his saviour one last time and simply passes out in his embrace, because it was too much. Even for such person as Klemens.

And now they can simply enjoy the moments of peace and complete stillness together.

That’s what they both need after all the trouble. 🤫

[melanie-adia-of-the-multiverse]

Everything Could Use More Ducks

Summary: The want for perfection is a universal inclination to possess, but Logan and Patton are going to find that sometimes the unexpected makes for the most beautiful memories and experiences.

A.K.A. An overly-long fic about Logicality’s first date and kiss.

Part 2 of Light and Tenderness Verse

Pairing: Logicality

Word Count: 23,585

Genre: Fluff with some Angst (it was supposed to be mostly fluff with the barest traces of angst but that’s the direction writing took me in as I was going along)

Warnings: Self-doubt, self-worth issues, self-esteem issues, some lingering tension from past canon conflicts (POF), food, kissing, swearing, crude language, explicit language, sexual humour, gross/disturbing facts and imagery (those last five are all Remus alone), Remus being Remus (I mean, he really goes to town in this one; also unplanned but it’s how it unfolded)

AO3 Link

Part 1: AO3 Tumblr

Author’s Note: Hello, all. It’s been a while but I’ve returned with another story. It also just occurred to me that I’m posting this story a week later from when I posted it on AO3 much like the first one (this time for Logan’s ‘birthday’/appreciation day). A funny coincidence, though I hope this doesn’t turn into a pattern. I admit to having more difficulty writing this new installment. With LaT, I knew exactly how it was going to pan out and planned it out to a tee with some room for freestyling. Here, I had less of a clear vision beyond the premise (Logicality going on their first date and having their first kiss) so I ended up doing a lot of freestyling, which I’m not accustomed to. Although there was a thrill in letting myself see where my writing would take me with little boundaries, I often found myself getting stuck more often than I’m comfortable with. So, my confidence in this final product is more shaky. But it’s finished and I hope it still provides some level of entertainment, and I know how to better approach the process for the next story. My waffling probably wasn’t necessary but I felt a need to explain myself. With that said, thank you for your time, take care, be safe, and enjoy.

Roman prided himself as a Side who rose to any challenge, but even he could (privately) admit when such a challenge that stumped him came along. Though, this time, it wasn’t the request that threw him off. It was the requester.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that again?”

Logan huffed irritably. “Did I not articulate about my request adequately, Roman?”

“Oh, no, no! I heard you crystal clear, Specs! I just wanted to hear it again for clarification!” Roman smirked at the logical trait, his eyes glittering with amusement and intrigue. “After all, it isn’t everyday that you, Logan, comes to me, the remarkable, ravishing Roman, for romantic advice!”

Logan sighed and turned around to head back to his room, muttering under his breath: “If you’re not going to take this seriously, I’ll just try to figure it out on my own. Or seek someone else’s guidance –”

Roman shot out a hand and grabbed the crook of Logan’s elbow, preventing him from leaving. “Hey, hey. I was playin’ around, Lo. I’ll hear you out, okay?”

Logan looked back at the romantic figment. Roman at least had the decency to look contrite, and he seemed sincere enough. Logan stared at him a moment longer before motioning towards Roman’s room with an incline of his head.

Roman grinned wide and all but yanked Logan inside before locking the door for good measure to ensure privacy. He turned around and jogged towards his bed, spinning around and jumping backwards to land on it with a graceful – in his opinion – wump. Logan elected to sit down on Roman’s desk chair, keeping his perfect posture and legs pressed together, feet flat on the floor. When they’d both gotten comfortable, Roman crossed one of his legs over the other, rested interlocked hands over his knees and leaned forward with eager expression and eyes.

“All right, Teach. Spill.”

Logan blinked in confusion. “Spill what? I didn’t bring any liquids with me.”

Roman rolled his eyes and waved an exasperated hand. “No, no! Tell me what is troubling you romantically!”

“Oh. Right. Apologies.”

Logan fiddled with his tie for a moment before folding his hands primly in his lap, eyes fixed on the ground.

“I…wish to treat Patton to a…romantic excursion,” he mumbled, the apples of his cheeks turning rosy.

Roman blinked for a moment before his head clicked what Logan had meant. He trilled and clapped his hands excitedly, eyes shining. “That is fantastic! Your very first date! Oh, what a joyous occasion for you lens-wearing lovebirds!”

Logan rolled his eyes at Roman’s enthusiasm, but the deepening colour of his cheeks and his lips twitching upwards belied his aloofness.

“It’s about gosh darn time, too!” Roman continued. “The two of you have been together long enough!”

Logan arched an eyebrow. “ ‘Long enough’? We’ve been a couple for ten days, fourteen hours, twenty-seven minutes and counting.”

“Like I said: long enough!”

Roman leapt to his feet and started pacing around his room, his eyes already alight with inspiration.

“Now then, we hafta decide on what you’re actually gonna do on the date. Of course, we gotta make sure it’s something both of you like. Now, what would that be…”

“Well, actually, I did have an idea –”

“Wait! I’ve got it!” Roman gasped. “Ducks!”

Simultaneously, Logan’s face went blank and he hunched his shoulders slightly as though anticipating rainfall or some heavy object to fall on his head.

“…What?”

“Ducks!” Roman repeated, the ruby ribbons laced throughout his cinnamon eyes glittering like the last trails of colour and light after a fireworks finale. “You two should go to a pond and feed ducks! It’s got the cute, fuzzy animal factor for our puffball, and you can infodump about any duck-related facts you’ve got rattling around in that big dome of yours! There’s this secluded yet quaint lil’ pond in my side of the Imagination that would be just perfect!”

“Well, yes, but – ”

“But I think it’s empty right now, so I would just hafta conjure up some ducks! How many should I put in? Five? Mmm, no. Too little. Fifteen? Maybe. Though, the pond’s pretty big soooo you know what? Better make it fifty.”

“Wait, hold on –”

“No, wait! You know what? We should make it a parade of ducks! Yes! I’ll conjure up fifty ducks and make sure they put on a show for you that neither of you will ever forget!”

“But, I –”

But Roman kept on going, too caught up in his excitement to listen to Logan.

“So! Here’s what we’ll do…I’ll give you directions to the pond so you both don’t get lost on the way, and before you enter the Imagination, I’ll conjure them up and make sure they’re all sorts of different species! That way we get a nice variety and be able to have colour-coordinated sections!”

“Roman –”

“Ooh! Ooh! You know what else we should have? Kazoos! YES! I’ll teach them to play kazoos and when you two arrive at the pond, they’ll serenade Patton with a rendition of ‘Some Enchanted Evening’ while spelling out the phrase ‘LOGAN HEART PATTON’! But, if you don’t want too much attention on you, we can just use ‘I’ instead of your name.”

“Roman…”

“And then they’ll all leap into the pond and conclude with a synchronized swimming routine! Bam! Perfect evening! Although, it’d be a lil’ much for me to train fifty ducks on my own. Not that I couldn’t or wouldn’t do it! Maybe I should probably conjure up a choreographer…actually, you know what, maybe an animal trainer, too –”

“ROMAN!”

Roman stopped dead in his tracks and turned to stare at his sensible counterpart, equally put out by the interruption and bemused by Logan’s outburst.

Logan took a cleansing breath to quell his exasperation and pushed his glasses up his nose. “As much as I appreciate your…enthusiasm, I had something less exuberant in mind for the date.”

Roman made a face. “Lemme guess. Something uber doober boring like doing a jigsaw puzzle? Or reading one of your murder mystery books out loud?”

Logan glowered at the princely trait. “Actually, I was thinking along the lines of taking Patton for an afternoon walk through the Imagination, and ending it with a picnic around sunset.”

Roman opened his mouth to make a retort, then stopped and closed it again, blinking at Logan. “Huh. That is…actually quite romantic,” he said, a little impressed.

Logan preened a little, looking pleased with himself. Of course it was a good idea. He thought of it.

Roman made his way back to his bed and sat back down. He needed to catch his breath and rest his feet after all the pacing and talking he’d been doing not even a minute before. “Is it safe for me to assume that this is why you came to me?” he asked.

Logan nodded. “Indeed. Since you are in charge of one half of the Imagination, it seemed only logical to approach you in order to gain access to it. At least for an hour or so. I certainly wasn’t going to go to Remus for his half.”

Roman winced. “Yeeeaaah, probably a good idea. That wouldn’t fly well with Patton.”

Logan nodded in agreement, his eyes softening just a touch at the mention of Patton. Roman noticed but said nothing about it.

“So, did you have something in mind for how you want the Imagination to look like on your date?”

“I do, actually.”

“All right, then. Spit it out.”

Logan reared back slightly at that, face twisted with alarm and disgust. Then he shrugged and started working his jaw.

Quickly recognizing his mistake, Roman waved his hands hurriedly. “NO, not like that! Just tell me what you want!”

“Oh. Okay.”

Roman breathed an internal sigh of relief at his close call.

Logan reached into his pocket and took out a piece of folded paper, which he proceeded to unfold, smooth out and hold out to Roman. “I’ve done some research, and I’ve compiled a list of conditions and factors that, if adjusted just so, will ensure the ideal environment and setting for the date.”

Roman took the paper from Logan and read through its contents. His eyes slowly widened as he went down the list. Logan had taken into account every single factor he could think of and researched ways to ‘ensure the most optimal chance of dating success’ (Logan’s words, not Roman’s). The list ranged from things that were actually rather important and that Roman could easily accomplish like the ideal temperature (‘somewhere between 70 to 77 degrees Fahrenheit, or 21 to 25 degrees Celsius’), to absurd stuff like the softness of grass (‘to prevent, or at least reduce, the likelihood of irritation or ticklishness, as Patton has sensitive skin’). He also noted that the date was to take place a week from today. Well, that was good. At least Logan was giving him ample time to tweak and mold the Imagination into the requested dimensions until it was just right.

When he was done, Roman looked back up at Logan. “You really put a lot of thought into this, didn’t you?”

Logan lowered his head a bit as though shy, but he nodded. “Well…yes. It’s only natural. I want Patton to be happy. And for him to have an enjoyable time.”

As he said this, a soft look came over Logan’s face, and his lips curled up into a rare tiny smile. Roman took advantage of the ensuing quiet that followed to observe the change in Logan’s demeanour. Falling in love with Patton had really had a positive effect on Logan. He was still his serious, stick-in-the-mud self, but his sharp edges had been softened. He clearly wanted his date with Patton to go well, considering the amount of effort he had gone through to compose the list. It was very in line with Logan’s sensibilities, which made Roman chuckle inwardly. He was a nerd, but he was their nerd.

Then Roman thought of something and he furrowed his brow. “Hold on…don’t you hate picnics? I think I kinda remember one time we all went for a picnic in the Imagination and you spent the whole time complaining about eating on the ground and getting eaten alive by bugs!”

Logan flushed at this and looked away, fidgeting uncomfortably.

“Specs?”

“…Again, ‘hate’ is a strong word to use…but…you aren’t incorrect in that assessment.”

“Then why are you going for this? Why make yourself uncomfortable doing something you don’t like? Why not something more along the lines of what you like? Like stargazing or something?”

Logan’s demeanor changed instantly at these words. His dreaminess – which had dimmed slightly at Roman’s first query – fell away completely to reveal a timider interior that the others were very rarely privy to. It honestly caught Roman off guard. The teacher’s self-confidence seemed to dissipate and was replaced by uncertainty and meekness. He looked down at his hands clasped in his lap and avoided eye contact. He stayed quiet for a moment, and Roman waited patiently, giving Logan the space he needed to speak freely and without judgment on his own time.

“This is my chance to really make Patton happy,” Logan finally said, quietly and morosely. “After everything that’s gone on, he deserves something special…to feel special. In a way, I feel like I have a lot to make up for the way I regarded and treated him in the past, even though it seems that he doesn’t hold me in contempt or bear any grudge for it. But…I guess I still feel some level of guilt that I’m not able to assuage. So, I feel compelled to make a great effort to really make this date special for him and make sure nothing goes wrong.”

Roman’s frown deepened as he watched the rational figment before him wilt and falter. He mashed his lips together. Even though he could be a little self-absorbed, Roman still cared for his loved ones, and it was unnerving to see Logan so unsure of himself and vulnerable.

If he was honest…Roman admired how far Logan had come. They were both similar in how opinionated and arrogant they could be, as much as that was difficult for him to admit to himself sometimes. So, to see how Logan had grown more thoughtful of others – like how he’d taken Patton’s own wants and needs into account to do an activity on their date that Patton liked – and how he tried to be better than how he was before…it was more than Roman could ever hope to achieve. Logan had been the first to reach out and try to repair the discord that had taken place after ‘The Incident’, whilst Roman had hidden himself away in his room, smarting and spiteful. It made sense; Logan had always possessed a maturity Roman himself could never duplicate.

Then Roman shook himself internally. No time for self-pity now. Someone else’s spirits needed lifting up.

Roman got up from the bed and slowly made his way to Logan, kneeling down in front of him. He paused for a moment before raising his hands and resting them on Logan’s knees.

Logan started a bit and looked up at Roman with surprised eyes. Roman smiled kindly at Logan and gave his knees a gentle squeeze.

“Listen…I know we haven’t always been buddy-buddy in the past, but it’ll all be fine. You and Patton are made for each other. And I’ve seen how he’s been since you started dating. He’s doing better than ever. And that’s just you being you. So, you’re doing something right. You’re good.”

Logan looked at Roman, parsing his words. Then his face broke into a small, grateful smile and he placed his hands on top of Roman’s, giving them a squeeze back. “Thank you, Roman,” he murmured. Roman grinned back at him, glad to see some cheer coming back to their beloved nerd.

Right at that moment, an enthusiastic knock sounded on Roman’s door, making Roman and Logan jump and breaking the moment.

“Hey, Roman! You in there, kiddo?” a cheerful voice called out.

It was Patton.

Logan froze like a deer caught in headlights and Roman shook himself out of his surprise to give an answer.

“Yes, I am, Padre! You need something?”

“Oh, no! I just came over to let you know that dinner’ll be ready in a few minutes!”

Dinner? 

Both Roman and Logan looked over at the gold-plated, sunburst-shaped clock on the wall, and their eyes widened. They hadn’t realized how much time had passed since Logan stopped by.

“Oh! Okay! Sorry, Patton! I didn’t realize the time!”

“No worries, kiddo! I know how you can get preoccupied with your projects!”

The two Sides watched the shadow under Roman’s door start to recede as Patton turned away – presumably to continue his mission of letting everyone know about dinner – when it stopped abruptly.

“Oh! Roman! By the way, do you happen to know where Logan is? I stopped by his room before yours and he wasn’t there.”

Logan paled slightly and Roman racked his brains quickly for something to say in his defense. He just hoped that the verbal fabrication wouldn’t be too extreme. He didn’t want a certain snake to sneak his way into his ‘Sanctuary of Solitude’ right this moment.

“I – I don’t, actually. Sorry! Um...did you check his study? Or his lab? You know how hyper-focused he can get.” Roman heard a thoughtful hum in response.

“I did think about that, but I didn’t wanna go in without permission. I know how protective he can be of his personal space.”

Logan’s face softened and he opened his mouth to say that Patton was always welcome to check in on him no matter where he was and what he was doing, forgetting where he was for a second. Roman waved a hand frantically for Logan to keep quiet, and Logan snapped his mouth shut, remembering.

“Roman?”

“Yes, yes! I’m still here! Sorry! Y’know, I’m sure he won’t mind if you go in. You are lovers now!”

“Yeah, we are…but I still wanna make sure I don’t cross any boundaries where I shouldn’t. I don’t wanna make him mad or anything.”

Patton’s voice sounded quiet and uncertain. Logan’s face fell at that. He never wanted Patton to feel like he couldn’t ever go into his room for any reason. He supposed that it didn’t help how impatient and short he had been in the past whenever anyone ever came into his room without permission or invitation. Roman looked at him in sympathy and squeezed his knee.

“Well, I’m sure he can’t be gone simply like that! He probably just went to the bathroom or something! Or maybe he’s with Virgil? You know how the emo often goes to him when he’s having one of his attacks.”

The shadow didn’t move but Roman had a feeling that Patton was nodding in agreement. “Yeah, maybe. I’m actually on my way to Virgil’s room right now, so we’ll see. See ya in a bit, kiddo!”

“Will do! Thanks again, Pat!”

Once the shadow was gone, Logan let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and ran a hand through his hair. “That was close. Thank you, Roman,” he said shakily.

Roman smiled and patted Logan’s hand. “No prob, Bob.”

Logan blinked. “I’m Logan.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Of course, Steven Universe would fly over your head. You really need to be more up-to-date with pop culture references, Teach.”

Logan stuck his nose in the air. “At least I’m not always stuck in Never Never Land like you.”

“Rude. And also, I think you mean La La Land.”

“Isn’t it the same thing?”

“No! Both are completely different places!”

“But they’re both rife with unrealistic, fantastical elements, so my point still stands!”

“Oh, for the love of Dionysus! – ”

Roman and Logan glared at each other for a moment. Then their mouths started twitching, and before long they were laughing.

When their chuckles died down. Logan stood up and smoothed his tie out. “I should get going. I don’t want Patton to get any more worried than he is now.”

Roman nodded, wincing at the creaks in his knees as he stood back up. “Yeah. Maybe if you move fast enough, you can get back to your room before he comes back to check on you again.”

“That is my plan, yes.”

Logan got himself in position and was just about to sink out when Roman called out to him. He stopped and turned back towards Roman.

Roman chuckled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh…sorry about earlier. With the whole duck thing. And not listening to you. I guess I got a little over-excited. So, sorry about that.”

Logan’s face softened and he shook his head. “It’s all right, Roman. Really.” Roman’s idea had been a little much, but that was how Roman was. He was Creativity, after all. There was nothing wrong with allowing inspiration to flow freely when it was present in the moment. But Logan did appreciate Roman’s acknowledgement of and apology for the indirect disregard. “Also, thank you again for helping me out,” he continued. “Both for the date and making sure Patton didn’t know I was here. I really appreciate it.”

Roman waved an airy hand. “No trouble at all, Lo. See you at dinner.”

Logan nodded once with a small smile and adjusted his glasses before sinking out. After waving Logan out, Roman picked up Logan’s list and started reading through it again. Logan’s specifications were really…specific. Roman was a little unsure if he would be able to get everything just right, but he was going to try. Patton and Logan were going to have the best first date of all first dates!

But first, dinner.

Roman folded the paper back up, slipped it into his pocket and primped himself up a bit in his mirror before heading downstairs for dinner. As he did, he thought to himself that Patton and Logan’s date could still use more ducks.

 *******

Three days later, Roman was in the common room, writing in his trusty notebook. A while back he’d started a new story when something Thomas had said inspired him, and then it got left on the back burner when another busy video-editing session came around, so he was trying to get back into it. Normally, Roman would write in his room since it enhanced his creative ability, but sometimes it got a little stifling and then Roman wasn’t able to get anything done. So, he’d read online that sometimes a change of scenery was a good way of clearing a writer’s head and allowing them to get some work done, hence why he’d moved to the common room for that mid-morning.

Roman let out a groan and ran a hand through his hair. This stupid short story was stumping him big time. He’d been working on it for a couple hours now and he was still stuck on this one particular part. What was the point of him being Creativity if he couldn’t come up with stuff?

Immediately after that thought floated by, Roman shook his head vigorously. No. None of that. No more bad self-talk. It wasn’t good for him as Thomas’ Ego, especially when it could lead down a slippery slope to a ‘creative block’ – he shuddered violently at the thought. Plus, he didn’t want to revisit the bad feelings he’d felt after ‘you know what’. That was in the past. Everyone was friends again (well, most of them; some of them were still on precarious ground but had promised (through gritted teeth) to try their best to get along for Thomas’ sake), and it would be nice to keep it that way.

After a few more minutes, Roman gave up and put down his notebook and pen. He was clearly getting nowhere. Maybe he should take a quick break before giving it another go.

He took Logan’s list out of his pocket and looked through it again. Whenever he completed a requirement, he made sure to tick it off. At this point he’d ticked off almost half of the requirements, which was good. A few were proving to be a little tricky but Roman figured he’d be able to find a work-around for them. He still had a few more days to get everything done.

Roman sighed. He really, really, REALLY wanted Logan to be pleased with his work, and to get it just right for him and Patton, seeing how much this meant to Logan. Roman was a perfectionist so anything creative he worked on couldn’t be half-assed. He was still learning to not be too hard on himself or hold himself to high impossible standards, but that was easier said than done.

“Hey, Roman!”

Roman jumped and let out an “Eep!”. He looked up to see Patton standing on the raised landing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Oh! Sorry, kiddo! Didn’t mean to make ya jump!”

Roman hurriedly shoved the paper back into his pocket. “N-No worries, Padre!”

If Patton noticed Roman acting strangely, he said nothing. He figured that if it was something private, he wasn’t going to stick his nose in Roman’s business. He wasn’t going to do that anymore. That’s how things went wrong.

Getting a handle on his composure and putting on a charming smile, Roman looked up at Patton. “How are you doing on this fine morning?”

Patton smiled back. “I’m doin’ good! Thanks for askin’! How ‘bout you?”

Roman shrugged. “As peachy as I can be. Just trying to work on this story here.”

“Oh! I’m sorry! I’d no idea. I can talk to you later if you want – ”

“No, no, no!” Roman waved his hands reassuringly. “It’s fine, Pat! I’m on a break, anyway.”

Patton looked at him uncertainly. “You sure?”

“Positive, Padre.”

A look of relief swept over Patton’s face before he made his way over and settled himself down next to Roman on the couch, slipping off his sneakers and pulling his legs up so he could sit cross-legged. Roman took a moment to take in Patton’s body language: his posture was better than normal, and his shoulders were more relaxed. Clearly dating wasn’t only doing wonders for just Logan.

“So, you wanted to talk to me about something?”

Patton, at this point, looked back towards the stairs as though anticipating that someone was going to come down at any moment. Roman had a hunch the ‘someone’ Patton was looking out for was Logan. But Logan worked in the mornings so luckily there was no fear of any eavesdropping or walking in.

When he was sure that the coast was clear, Patton turned back to Roman. “Yeah, I did. I actually need your help for something.”

Roman leaned forward, interest piqued. “On what?”

“My date with Logan.”

Upon saying Logan’s name, Patton’s cheeks turned rosy and a dreamy expression came over his face. Being the Side of romance, Roman could recognize even the subtlest of love signs, and here was a Side who was a smitten kitten over his sweetheart.

Roman smiled at the paternal trait. “Looks like things are going well with you and Teach!”

Patton nodded, his smile widening and the colour of his cheeks deepening. He ducked his head momentarily in mixed embarrassment and fondness. “Yeah,” he mumbled eloquently.

Roman grinned and chuckled. “Sorry, couldn’t resist. What did you need?”

After getting himself back under control, Patton straightened up and took a breath. “So, my date with Logan is coming up in four days…”

Roman nodded, outwardly showing that he was paying attention, but inwardly he was concentrating hard on thinking his words through before he spoke. Logan had explicitly stated that his whole picnic thing was to be a surprise for Patton, and Roman didn’t want to mess it up for either of them if he misspoke, so he had to be extra careful. “Go on.”

Patton played with his fingers. “I…want to do something special for Logan.”

Roman cocked his head. “In terms of what?”

“Like, how I want the date to go.”

Roman furrowed his brows, feeling a tinge of not necessarily panic but a sense that things were about to get complicated. For him, at least.

“I see. What did you wanna do?”

Patton clasped his hands in his lap. For a moment, a vision of Logan doing the exact same thing flitted through Roman’s mind. Geez, these two were already similar enough in appearance since they looked like Thomas (okay, they ALL looked like Thomas) and wore the same glasses, but they were already starting to adopt each other’s mannerisms. What a difference almost two weeks of dating can make.

“I wanna take Logan on a walk through the Imagination during the evening, and end it with a night of stargazing. Would you be able to set up the Imagination like that for me?”

Roman’s anxiety ratcheted up. Patton wanted an evening date. At the exact same time as the daytime date that Logan wanted. When he was halfway done with setting up the Imagination for Logan’s daytime date that he asked for help with three days ago. Oh, this was getting more than just complicated. This was getting borderline impossible.

Unfortunately, he was taking too long to reply, and Patton took Roman’s silence as disapproval. He bit the side of his lip, his mouth going a little lopsided as he did so. “I’m sorry. If it’s too much for you, or not possible, or not enough time, it’s totally fine, Roman. I don’t wanna push something on you that you don’t wanna do – ”

“No!”

Patton jumped and blinked at the princely trait. Roman gave himself an inward shake at his outburst and smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile at the fatherly figure figment. “It’s all fine. I’ll do it.”

Patton’s eyes brightened. “Really?”

Roman nodded. “Really.”

Patton squealed and threw his arms around Roman to give him a big hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Despite the rising anxiety within him at his predicament, Roman easily returned the hug. “It’s no trouble, Padre.”

When Patton pulled away from his hug attack, Roman leaned back into the couch, summoning a notepad and pen as he did so. “All right, I’m all ears.”

Patton grinned. “Well, I hope I don’t talk your ears off!”

That got a chuckle out of Roman, and Patton giggled along with him. Roman thought how if he’d said that idiom to Logan, the intellectual Side would have likely taken the phrase literally (as usual) and countered that Roman was not made up of ears and was a fully humanoid form. Don’t get him wrong, he was fond of the nerd, but it was nice to be able to make jokes and puns without causing confusion or alarm. That’s why he and Patton got along so well.

At any rate, once they’d sobered up, Roman dutifully listened and jotted down notes as Patton told him how he wanted the Imagination to look for his date idea, giving off the appearance of a calm, collected Side, though inwardly he still worried about how he was going to pull this off along with Logan’s request. He noticed how Patton was just as attentive as Logan had been about little details he wanted to get right, and just as eager to make sure that Logan would have a good time. Most of all, he realized that Patton had chosen an activity that Logan liked. He, also, was being thoughtful of his partner’s needs and wants and trying to make him happy. Thankfully, he wasn’t as intensive as Logan had been, but he was no less determined to make sure that everything would be just right.

“ – And, like, I wanna make sure the sky is as accurate as possible, with lots of constellations so we can look at them and Logan can talk to me about them. There’s one he’s mentioned before that he seems to really like a lot…I think it’s called – what was it? The Pilates Cluster? The Play-Doh Cluster?”

Roman froze in the middle of the sentence he was writing and looked up and blinked at Patton for a moment. Seconds later, he burst into peals of laughter.

Patton did a small double-take of surprise at Roman’s reaction. “Did I say something wrong?”

Roman’s only response was to laugh harder. Patton’s confusion grew.

Soon, Roman was able to come down from his laughing fit, trying to take deep breaths while wiping tears off of his face.

“I – I think you mean the Pleiades Cluster!”

Patton’s eyes widened before his cheeks turned strawberry-pink. “Oh…oops. I guess they sound pretty similar, huh?’ he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Taking pity on him, Roman tried very hard to curb another laughing fit bubbling in his chest. He coughed a few times to get the urge out of his system so he was able to speak normally again.

“A-Anyway, yeah, sure, Pat. I’ll make sure to put that in the sky for you.”

Patton smiled through his flush. “Great, thanks.”

Another minute or so of talking later, Roman wrote down the last few notes and huffed out a breath. “All right. I think I got everything.”

Patton beamed at him. “Thanks, kiddo! I really appreciate this.”

Roman waved a hand. “Of course, Padre! It’s what I’m here for.”

A strange look came over Patton’s face then, one that Roman couldn’t decipher. Then Patton reached out and took one of Roman’s hands in both of his, his eyes heavy with an emotion that made Roman wonder if he’d said something wrong.

“Um, Patton?”

“I mean it, Roman,” Patton said earnestly. “I really do appreciate you helping me out. I have full trust in you. I know you’re gonna come up with something amazing.”

Roman’s mouth opened slightly at this, and his eyes felt a bit teary, touched as he was by Patton’s words. After what he did, how he’d treated Patton after ‘the thing we don’t talk about’, he almost felt unworthy of such genuine trust and faith. But Patton, blessed Patton, was looking so contrite and earnest that Roman couldn’t help but feel compelled to make his date idea come true, as tricky as it was going to be. He supposed, in a way, he also felt like he had to make amends, and this was a good way of doing so. And the most important thing was, he wanted to.

“I…thanks, Pat,” he whispered.

Patton’s smile turned softer and he squeezed Roman’s hand.

Roman took a moment to compose himself and he patted Patton’s knee with his other hand, managing to give him a smile.

“Just you wait and see, Padre, when I’m done, Specs won’t know what hit ‘im!”

“What’s that about me?”

Patton and Roman yelped in surprise and whipped their heads towards the stairs.

There was Logan, standing on the landing with a curious, amused expression on his face.

“H-Hi, honey!” Patton stammered out, face pink.

Logan’s face softened and he smiled softly. “Hello, love.” Then he turned towards Roman. “What was that about me you were just discussing?”

Roman panicked, scrambling to come up with something. “Oh! Um – we weren’t talkin’ about you! We were just discussing about…um, that is – “

“Ducks!”

Logan and Roman blinked at Patton. “What?” they chorused.

“Ducks!” Patton chirped again, his smile a little too wide to be comfortable. “We were talking about ducks! They’re just so cute, aren’t they? With the waddling and the quacking and that thing they do where they ruffle their feathers when they’re taking a bath! They’re just great! I love ducks! Don’t you love ducks?”

Patton said that last sentence to Roman, who immediately jumped in as if that had been the plan all along. Thank goodness for Thomas’ love of acting and knack for improv (most of the time). “Oh! Yes, of course! Ducks are truly splendid creatures! Aren’t they, Logan?”

Logan did a mini-double take of surprise at being asked this question by Roman, and he cleared his throat before answering. “I…yes, they are a rather fascinating species, though I don’t possess the same emotional attachment as either of you.” But he was distracted from what they’d actually been talking about, which greatly relieved the right-brained Sides.

“So, Logan, why’re you down here? Taking a break from working?”

Logan adjusted his glasses. “Yes. Actually, I’ve come down because Patton and I made plans to cook lunch together.”

Patton blinked and he looked at his watch. His eyes widened.

“Oh my gosh! Is it time, already? Man, time really does fly by when you’re talking! About ducks!”

Roman winced and subtly nudged Patton’s foot with his own. No need to keep beating a dead horse when there wasn’t even a horse to beat in the first place. (Ew. Why was he thinking like Remus?) Thankfully, Patton got the hint and Logan was none the wiser (or, if he did notice their strange behaviour, he said nothing).

Patton slipped his shoes back on and stood up, brushing his clothes off. “Well, I should get goin’. Thanks again, Roman!”

Roman gave Patton a warm smile. “Anytime, Padre! See you at lunch!”

Patton grinned at him and bent over for one last quick hug. Then he skipped over to Logan – who had a tender expression on his face – and they took each other’s hand before walking into the kitchen together.

Roman allowed himself a moment to watch this tender display, a small smile on his face before he gathered up his things and sank out to his room. He was truly happy for his friends. They looked so happy together. He was so glad things worked out for them, and seeing their love and care for one another made him more determined to make sure that their date went off without a hitch.

Speaking of which…

Once he was back in his room, Roman’s smile vanished and he let out a loud groan. He padded over to his bed and – after throwing his things haphazardly onto the bedspread – turned and collapsed on top of it, staring at the ceiling in a starfish position. He rubbed his face with his hands, the anxiety over his predicament back with a vengeance.

“Sweet Stephen King, what am I going to do?”

“Maybe not keel over and die from a heart attack, for starters?”

Roman let out a startled shriek and quickly sat up, hands clutching the front of his shirt and his heart hammering in his chest. He frantically looked around until his eyes fell on the source of the voice.

“Heavens above, Jack Scare-ington! Don’t do that!”

Virgil, standing with his arms crossed, lifted an unimpressed eyebrow. “Geez, Princey. Could you be any more on edge?”

Roman groaned again and sat up fully with his legs over the edge of his bed, bracing his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. “You would be if you were in the position I’m in right now,” he mumbled into his hands. As startled as he had been, Roman was not too surprised at Virgil’s presence. He’d forgotten that, as the embodiment of Thomas’ anxiety, Virgil could feel when the other Sides were anxious. The little panic session he’d been having earlier must have been palpable enough to catch Virgil’s attention.

Virgil – who had risen up to chastise Roman for the erratic roller coaster ride he’d ridden for the last hour – surveyed the prince for a moment before coming over to sit on the floor next to Roman, lying on his back and resting his legs against the bed in a ‘L’ shape and his arms on his stomach.

“All right, Roman. Spit it out. What happened?”

“Logan AND Patton both came to me separately to tell me to design the Imagination in different ways for their date!”

Virgil grimaced. “Yikes. Now I understand why your anxiety levels were through the roof. But why didn’t you tell either of them you couldn’t or something?”

Roman exhaled heavily. “Because they both want it to be a surprise for each other.”

“Ah.”

A beat of silence followed, then Virgil exhaled.

“So, you wanna discuss a solution, or do you just want someone to listen?”

“Listen?”

“Sure.”

Roman started ranting about his problem, and Virgil kept quiet and listened, just allowing Roman to get it out of his system. He could see how worked up he was and he figured that yelling at him would’ve exacerbated it. Even though he didn’t give the impression with how broody and moody he appeared, Virgil was actually a good listener. He was skilled at sitting back and just letting the others talk out their problems. Part of it had to do with how he didn’t like to talk about himself, but it was also because of how he’d been suppressed and not listened to for so long that he just kind of learned how to listen. It was a little alarming how well he slipped into the role, and how often too. But he was fine with it. Mostly.

“ – And like, just, I dunno how I’m gonna be able to pull this off! Logan wants a bright blue sky with fluffy clouds so that there’s shade cover during their picnic, but that would interfere with Patton’s wish for a clear night sky for stargazing! It’s all just – UGH!”

Roman drew in a big breath after his rant and then flopped back onto his back, finally having run out of steam. He did feel a bit better, but it still didn’t solve the fact that he was still going to have to figure out how to make both of Logan’s and Patton’s requests come true. What to do, what to do?

Virgil shifted a bit and rested his hands behind his head. Then he reached up one hand as best as he could and patted Roman’s knee in what he hoped was a comforting manner, since it didn’t come easy to him.

“Yeah. It’s a really sticky situation. And the date’s four days away, too. Is there even a way to fulfill both of their requests at the same time before then?”

Wait. Hold on.

Roman sat up suddenly with a gasp. Virgil had to steady himself from falling head over heels in surprise.

“What the hell, Roman?!”

“That’s IT!”

Virgil looked up with a furrowed brow. “What’s ‘it’?”

Roman, bright light bulbs in his eyes, just pulled Virgil up so he was standing up and threw his arms around the emo in a hug.

“Virge! You’re a genius!”

Virgil, while trying to extricate himself from Roman’s hold, froze at the praise, blinking blankly. “I am?”

“Yes! I know what to do now! Thanks!”

Roman squeezed Virgil a final time before jumping up and bounding away to his desk. He sat down, grabbed a spare piece of paper lying around and a pencil and started furiously scribbling (or sketching? Virgil couldn’t really tell) something down, inspiration having struck him. Virgil stood there gaping in bewilderment and wondering what epiphany Roman had had and how what he had said had gotten the prince so fired up. He’d just been saying whatever had popped into his head without thinking too much. But then he shrugged. Roman seemed less tense now, and if he had an idea, he had an idea, so he wasn’t going to interrupt his creative process. He knew how hyper-focused Roman could be when he was in that state.

“ ‘kay, cool. Guess I’ll see you around, Princey.”

Roman waved a distracted hand back, still scribbling (or sketching, again, Virgil still couldn’t tell) like there was no tomorrow. Virgil rolled his eyes but it wasn’t with any true contempt, and he sank back to his room.

Roman felt a bit bad for ending his time with Virgil so abruptly. He’d have to make it up to him somehow later. But right now, he had a plan to…well, plan. He now knew what he could do to fulfill both of Patton’s and Logan’s requests with little time left.

It was going to be tricky. But he had a feeling that he might just be able to pull it off.

 *******

The day of the date finally arrived, and Patton was alight with equal parts excitement and nervousness. He was currently sitting on Roman’s bed, looking up at Roman. “Thanks again for helping me out, kiddo,” he said earnestly.

Roman beamed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’m honoured that you came to me, Padre! A momentous occasion such as this should not be taken lightly!”

Patton fiddled with his hoodie sleeves. “Yeah. I thought I’d know what to wear or how to look when the time came, but I honestly really don’t know how to go about it.”

"No need to fret, my frantic father figure friend!"

Patton beamed in appreciation at the quadruple alliteration and pointed double finger guns at Roman. "Nice."

Roman bowed with a flourish. "Thank you! Now then, what to do for you...”

Roman tapped his chin with a finger, brow furrowed in deep thought. Patton had told him that he wanted to wear a dress for the date, but he didn’t know what, and he didn’t really own dresses in his own closet. Luckily, Roman did, and since they were physical copies of Thomas, they were the same dress size, so at least Roman didn’t have to worry about fitting issues. It was just a matter of finding a dress that Patton would like, but which one?

Then his face lit up.

“Aha! I've got it!"

"What?"

Roman turned around without answering and jogged to his walk-in closet, the door opening by itself as the prince approached. Patton watched as Roman started looking through his collection, murmuring under his breath. After a moment or so, he grinned suddenly and pulled something out.

“There you are! You would look great in this!” Roman exclaimed, showing it to Patton. Upon closer inspection, Patton recognized it as the Grand Duchess gown from Anastasia.

“It’s pretty, but…maybe a little too formal?” he said, trying to go for a diplomatic tone.

Roman pouted a little but acquiesced and put the gown back. “Okay, something less formal…oh! Maybe this one?”

This next one was a simple pale green shift dress. Nothing more, nothing less.

“That’s nice…but maybe something with a pattern?”

Roman pouted again but dutifully turned back to the closet.

For the next minute or so, Roman took out a different dress every time. And every time there was always something that wasn’t right for Patton. Too busy. Not colourful enough. Too colourful. Etcetera, etcetera. Before long, a small pile of discarded dresses sat on the floor, and they still hadn’t found anything for Patton. The emotional Side hunched his shoulders slightly, feeling a bit guilty for shooting down Roman’s offerings. It seemed that history just couldn’t stop repeating itself.

“I’m sorry, Roman,” he said morosely. “They were all really pretty, I swear!”

Roman, who had started feeling a little frustrated, immediately softened at the sad tone in Patton’s voice, and he gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Pat. You’re just being choosy about what you wanna wear. And that’s a good thing! It means that when we do find the right dress, you’ll feel extra good about yourself! How about you think about what you’re really looking for? Maybe this way we’ll be able to narrow it down without going on a wild goose chase.”

“Honk.”

Both Roman and Patton snorted at that, which helped to lighten up the mood in the room.

Patton scrunched up his face, trying to really think about what he wanted to wear. He still wasn’t used to thinking for himself or his wants.

“Hmm…well, I do want it to still be a dress. Maybe something that’s…cute? Like, with a pattern or something that I like, like dogs or cats? And comfortable? ‘Cause we’re gonna be walking around for a bit so I wanna be able to move around freely.”

Roman nodded. Cute and comfortable. He could work with that.

Then he thought of something. “What about your skirt outfit from the photoshoot? It’s cute, and it seems comfortable enough.”

Patton looked up at an indiscriminate point, pursing his mouth in thought, trying to remember what he looked like when he was wearing it. “Well, yeah…but everyone’s already seen me in it.”

“Ah. You wanna wear something new?”

Patton nodded.

Roman returned the nod and turned back to his closet. His brow furrowed further and he bit his upper lip as he looked through his wardrobe one last time. Then he stopped, grinned and pulled out one more dress.

“How about this?”

Patton looked up, and he paused, mouth falling slightly open. Roman was holding up a pretty apple-red sleeveless dress covered in a white butterfly print. It had a boat neckline and a knee-length skirt that was perfect for swishing around.

“It’s so pretty!” Patton breathed. Then he faltered. “Just, it’s a little…bright, for me. Otherwise, it’d be – ”

Roman snapped his fingers.

“ …Perfect.”

Roman’s grin widened. Date outfit: check.

After laying the dress down carefully on his bed for later, Roman snapped the dresses off the floor and back into his closet, made his way to his vanity and picked up his makeup kit. Then he bounded back to where Patton was sitting and sat down beside him, already emptying the contents of his kit onto the bedspread.

“Do you have a makeup look in mind?” he asked, fingers skittering past blush compacts and mascara tubes.

Patton gave a small start. “Oh! Um…I actually didn’t really think about doing anything like that.”

Roman stopped and looked up. “Do you not want to?”

“Oh, no, no! I do! I was just caught off guard!”

Roman’s brow furrowed and he shook his head. “Patton, I will only do it if you really want to.”

Patton mashed his lips together and looked down for a moment, conflicted.

“…I do. Just…nothing too over-the-top, if that’s okay. Not that I think that you’d do that! Just – well – you know – ”

Roman placed a hand on Patton’s arm, making the dad trait stop. “It’s okay, Padre.”

Patton deflated a bit before nodding and looking down. Roman’s face twisted a bit at that, but he said nothing and gave Patton a comforting pat before retracting his hand and going back to rummaging through his makeup collection.

“Don’t you worry, Pat! I already have the perfect makeup look in mind for you!”

Patton nodded, though a teeny tiny part of him couldn’t help but be a bit apprehensive at what Roman had planned. Roman’s style was more extravagant than the other Sides, but…he was still better at makeup than Patton. So, Patton decided to keep trusting him.

Silence fell over them as Roman continued to look through his makeup collection and set aside those which he thought would work well for Patton’s makeup look, the only sound in the room being that of Roman’s clock ticking. 

Soon, Roman found everything he’d wanted. Pleased, he turned back to Patton, and he stopped, smile faltering. Patton was looking off into space with an unsmiling, unfocused look in his eyes. Roman waved his hand in front of Patton’s face.

“Patton? Patton!”

Patton jumped and looked up, startled out of his thoughts. Roman looked at him with mixed concern and confusion.

“Everything okay, Padre?”

Patton pasted on a smile and nodded. “Yeah! All hunky-dory, kiddo! Nothin’ to worry about!”

Roman’s brow furrowed. “You know…if something’s bothering you, you know you can always come talk to one of us, right?”

Patton’s smile vanished, and he broke eye contact and heaved a small sigh. “Yeah…I know.”

Roman paused for a moment before reaching out and placing his hand on Patton’s arm, not saying anything, waiting for Patton to come forth.

Patton looked down at the hand on his arm. “I…honestly thought I’d never have this again.”

Roman cocked his head to one side. “Have what?”

Patton looked up at him, and Roman saw a sliver of sadness slide over the paternal Side’s face.

“Like…how we’re talking again and hanging out together like we used to. Before everything that happened. Before…everything I did. Or said. And…everything I didn’t do.”

Roman’s heart pricked and his face winced. He knew what Patton was alluding to. He put on what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Patton. Really. I mean, yeah, things were icky before, but we’re in a better place now.”

Patton nodded, but he didn’t look any more reassured by Roman’s words. He only looked more guilty and ashamed. Roman’s smile fell away and he heaved a small sigh before moving closer and wrapping an arm around Patton’s shoulders. Patton let out a breath himself and laid his head on Roman’s shoulder, and Roman rested his head on top of Patton’s. They stayed in that close position for a moment, just taking in the quietness of the moment and each other’s company.

“I still can’t help feeling guilty, sometimes.”

“I know.”

“I mean, like, I don’t purposefully remember, but every so often something will remind me of ‘that time’ and then it all comes back to me and just…I end up feeling bad all over again.”

Roman rubbed Patton’s shoulder comfortingly. “We worked through that, though. We all did. And Logan did say that there’s no problem remembering the past, so long as we keep moving forward and let go of regret.”

Patton let out a weak chuckle. “Yeah. Logan really is smart.”

Roman chuckled back. “He sure is.”

A small smile lingered on Patton’s face at the thought of Logan, which relieved Roman a little. That relief was short-lived, however, when that same smile disappeared as fast as it appeared.

“I still wonder if I’m good enough for him. Or just…enough, period.”

Roman’s heart sank at these words and he removed his arm around Patton to take Patton’s hands in his and make him look him in the eye. “You are.”

Patton blinked and opened his mouth to say something, but the look on Roman’s face told him that he wasn’t done talking, so he closed it again and waited, letting Roman have his turn.

Roman rubbed gentle circles into the back of Patton’s hands, feeling a sense of déjà vu of what he was about to do. “You are enough. And you don’t need to change yourself for anything. Logan adores you. For all that you are. I’ve seen how he’s like around you, and he’s never been better. And I’ve seen it in you, too. So, you have nothing to worry about. You’re doing fine.”

Patton’s heart wobbled in his chest at this. It was just so much: how they were talking it out, talking about ‘it’, and Roman was being so reassuring and calm. He wasn’t sure if he knew or not, but Patton felt like he and Logan weren’t the only ones who’d come a long way. It had been a long road for Roman, but he’d come out the other side even stronger than before. The growth he’d gone through, and the maturity he’d developed and now displayed like a silent badge of courage, even if Roman wasn’t aware of it himself, it was a proud moment for Patton, and awe-inspiring, too.

Fortunately, Patton was able to stop himself from breaking down. He nodded his head quietly, looking down at his lap. “That’s why I want to make this date extra-special for Logan. Because he’s wonderful and has done so much for me, and it’s my chance to do something back for him.”

Roman's eyes softened a touch, and he squeezed Patton’s hands comfortingly. "It’s gonna go great, Padre. You’ll see."

Patton lifted shiny eyes at that, and he looked at the creative trait for a moment before giving him a watery smile. "Thank you," he whispered gratefully.

Roman beamed and he pulled the moral Side in for an extra-long hug for added reassurance, Patton clinging back. They lingered in the hug for a while before breaking apart.

"Now, then! Let's get cracking! You've a date to get ready for!"

 *******

Meanwhile, a hop and a skip to the other side of the Mindscape, Virgil was sitting on Logan’s bed looking up at the logical trait with an uncertain expression.

“Remind me why I’m here again?” he asked.

Logan pushed his glasses up his nose and brought his hands behind his back. “I have a date with Patton.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I know that. But why do you need me here?”

Logan shifted slightly on his feet, suddenly a little sheepish, which caught Virgil off guard a bit since Logan was never one to be unconfident or at a loss for words.

“I…require some help on my attire,” Logan finally admitted quietly. “I want to make sure that I look acceptable for Patton, and out of all of us I’ve always considered you as possessing the highest level of competency with wardrobe.”

It was true. When Virgil had revealed his new outfit following his acceptance, Logan had been honestly impressed with the level of thought and care Virgil had put into its design and his chosen colour scheme.

Virgil blinked briefly before turning away slightly and coughing, cheeks reddening a little. He was unused to praise, even though he’d been with the Light Sides for ages now.

Seeing Virgil’s reaction, Logan furrowed his brow. “Did I make you uncomfortable? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so forward like that.”

“No, no. You’re good, Lo. Just…y’know, I’m not used to hearing that kinda stuff.”

Logan cocked his head. “Hearing what?”

Virgil flapped a hand haphazardly, avoiding eye contact. “Just, like, hearing…I dunno…compliments? I guess? Like, from any of you. I’m not used to it.”

Logan’s eyes widened slightly at this before softening. He swallowed before speaking again. “I see. I take it that it wasn’t really commonplace on the ‘Other Side’?”

Virgil gave a non-committal shrug, but the tightening of his lips and furrowing of his brow spoke otherwise.

At this, Logan’s face creased slightly and he said, in a soft, reassuring voice: “I did mean what I said, Virgil. You know very well that I wouldn’t say anything just for the sake of saying it.”

This was true. Logan said what he meant, and meant what he said. So, he wouldn’t say what he’d just said just to be nice. Virgil nodded then changed the subject so that they weren’t focused on him anymore.

“Anyways, you wanted me to help you pick out an outfit?”

Rolling with the subject change, Logan nodded. “Yes. I’ve already devised an outfit, but I wanted your honest, keen opinion on it.”

Virgil looked at Logan with uncertainty. “You sure, Lo?”

Logan nodded.

Virgil let out a breath and waved a hand towards the rational Side. “All right. Show me.”

Logan nodded again before taking a brief, deep breath. Then he snapped his fingers.

A beat of silence followed.

Then Virgil raised an incredulous eyebrow at Logan.

“Really? This is what you were planning on wearing for your date?” he deadpanned.

Logan furrowed his brow. “It’s different from what I usually wear, is it not?”

“Logan, you’re wearing the exact same thing. Except your tie’s colours are now inverted.”

“Yes…and?”

Virgil let out an exasperated sigh and pinched his nasal bridge. “Listen, buddy, it’s a date. Ya gotta put in more effort. Otherwise, Pat’s gonna think you don’t really care.”

Logan���s eyes widened slightly. “But – I do care. That’s why I thought to switch the tie’s colours around so they differed slightly from the norm.”

“Wait. Hold on. That’s not – ugh!”

After groaning, Virgil jumped up from the bed and strode towards Logan, taking him by the shoulders and steering him around and pushing him downwards so that he was the one sitting on the bed now. “Let’s see what else you’ve got in here.” He turned back to the chest of drawers and opened a drawer.

The anxious trait blinked. All he saw was neatly folded piles of black shirts and jeans. He opened another drawer. The same sight greeted him. Upon opening the rest of the drawers and getting the same result, Virgil turned back towards Logan, bewildered.

“You really don’t have a lotta variety, do ya?”

Logan fiddled with his glasses uncomfortably. “Thomas based all of us on figures in his life that left an impact on him in some way. With me, it was his teachers at school who cultivated his drive for knowledge. It just so happened that the clothes I wear were the clothes they wore, so as I grew into my role, I ended up taking on the appearance as such. It’s all I’ve known since Thomas’ school days.”

That…Virgil could actually understand, a bit. Since he was based off of Thomas’ ‘emo’ phase during his adolescence, anything that wasn’t comfortable nor shape-concealing was deemed out of his comfort zone. It was all he’d ever known. So, he couldn’t fault Logan too much for sticking with something that worked once he’d found it.

Still…

“But, like, didn’t you have other outfits when Thomas was little?”

Logan made a face, but nodded all the same. “We all did. But our conjuring abilities weren’t as developed during Thomas’ childhood, so we all drew inspiration from wherever we could. Though, for me, it came from books and television that Thomas consumed. And back then they generally portrayed characters who were academically inclined in an…exaggerated manner.”

“So, nerd stuff like suspenders, big glasses and bow ties?”

Logan’s grimace deepened. “Yes.”

Virgil made a face back at that. “Yeah, probably shouldn’t go with that. Roman looked like a Young Sheldon reject in that get-up he wore for the jam commercial.”

Logan let out a snicker at that and Virgil joined in with a brief chuckle before sobering up and refocusing on the task at hand. He looked around Logan’s room before his eyes fell on Logan’s closet. He walked towards it and opened it.

Inside was a mish-mosh of clothes that were more varied than those in Logan’s chest of drawers, from the Sherlock cosplay to his holiday winter sweaters. Virgil’s eyes roamed over the eclectic selection before something caught his eye. He reached out and pulled it out. It was Logan’s skirt outfit from the ‘Sanders Sides Skirt Series’ from months ago. He turned back towards Logan, gesturing to it with his head.

“What about this? You haven’t worn it since your photoshoot with Thomas, right? It’s probably nice enough for something like a date.”

Logan pursed his lips slightly.

“Not too keen on it?”

“It’s not that. It’s just…“ Logan let out a breath. “It is nice, I’ll grant you that, especially considering that I picked it out myself while scouring the Internet with Thomas. And I haven’t had another opportunity to wear it again since the photoshoot so it could work. Just…the pencil skirt wouldn’t be conducive to my plan of walking through the Imagination with Patton. Neither would the shoes I wore, too.”

Again, Virgil could get that. He could see how much thought Logan had put into every aspect of the upcoming date. He clearly really wanted everything to go well. Which was sweet…so long as he was aware that there was always the potential for something to go awry. But Virgil knew better than to voice that at the moment when Logan was being open and vulnerable with him.

He took in the outfit then turned back towards Logan, burnt umber eyes raking over the teacher with a thoughtful look. The jagged bolts of amethyst in his irises seemed to burn like the dying embers of a mystical, fantastical campfire.

Logan shifted slightly, a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “What?”

Virgil stayed quiet for a moment before speaking. “You said that you think I have a good handle on fashion, right?”

Logan blinked at him but nodded. “Yes, I did. It wasn’t an empty statement.”

Virgil nodded, cheeks flushing mildly again before getting a hold of himself by taking a breath. “I have an idea. But…before I do anything, I wanna make sure you actually trust me, okay?”

Logan looked at Virgil for a moment before nodding firmly. “I do.”

Virgil nodded a final time before motioning for Logan to stand up. Logan complied, nerves taut with anticipation of what Virgil had in mind. The vigilant Side approached his calm counterpart until they were face to face but with a respectable distance between them so that Logan was at ease.

“Okay. First, I want you to close your eyes.”

Logan did a mild double-take at that. “What? Why?”

Virgil huffed. “You said you trust me, right?”

“I do, but…why do you want me to close my eyes?”

Virgil rolled his own but replied: “So that it’ll be a surprise.”

Logan wasn’t one for surprises, but he was still willing to place his trust in Virgil’s fashion expertise, and he didn’t want to hurt his feelings by being distrustful. Their amiable companionship had come a long way since the early days of Virgil’s appearance in the Light Side of the Mindscape, and he didn’t want to do anything to make it go sour. So, Logan closed his eyes and kept still, waiting for Virgil to enact his plan.

Virgil mashed his lips together and swallowed as he gathered his concentration. Then, once he was ready, he snapped his fingers.

Logan started a little as he felt his whole form shift from his head to his toes, but kept still so as not to throw anything off. Then he heard Virgil say: “I’m gonna guide you to your mirror. Keep your eyes closed.” Once Logan nodded his affirmation and consent, he felt Virgil’s hands settle around his upper arms and himself be moved in some direction. He disliked the brief loss of control, but he knew still to keep trusting Virgil.

He felt himself come to a stop, and heard Virgil say: “Okay. You can open your eyes, now”

He heard the waver in Virgil’s voice, and the tension in his muscles prickled. Was something wrong? Why did Virgil sound unsure?

Then Logan opened his eyes, and he gaped at his reflection.

He was dressed in an interesting combination of clothes from different outfits he had worn, plus others he’d never seen before. His standard shirt and tie were gone; in their place was the matching dark blue brocade vest-and-tie ensemble from his skirt debut over the black long-sleeved button-down shirt he wore during the Sides’ court showdown with Janus with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His jeans had stayed, though now they were black like Virgil’s. The biggest, most stark change was his shoes; his dress shoes had been replaced with galaxy-printed Converse sneakers. The cat-eye glasses from his photoshoot completed the look.

He didn’t look like himself. It was different.

But…he looked good.

Virgil – who was already tense when he’d changed Logan’s clothes and maneuvered him to the mirror – hunched his shoulders even more self-consciously with Logan’s continued silence.

“If you hate it, I’m really sorry. I’ll change it to something different. I thought it would work ‘cause it’s, like, formal, like you like it, but it also makes you look good. Was that weird? Is it the shoes? It’s the shoes, isn’t it? God, I’m sorry! I really don’t know what I’m doing. I should just – ”

Virgil’s ramble came to a halt when Logan placed a calming hand on his upper arm. The anxious trait took a couple of breaths before looking at Logan.

The logical Side had a rare smile on his face, and he gave Virgil’s arm a couple of comforting pats.

“This is just right, Virgil. Thank you.”

Virgil flushed a bit from the praise and he turned his head away for a moment before looking back up at Logan with a lopsided smile. Logan smiled back at him.

“Well, isn’t this just sweet?”

Both Virgil and Logan jumped and looked around them for the source of the voice.

“Yep. It’s almost sweet enough to make me wanna puke my guts out.”

Both left-brained Sides looked in time to see Remus – sitting on top of Logan’s chest of drawers, when he hadn’t been before – throw his head over the side and start puking his guts out.

Literally.

In graphic, overly exaggerated fashion.

Virgil flinched and looked away, trying to block out the horrific sounds of squelching and retching. Logan watched Remus’ spew fest with unflappable disinterest.

The vomiting continued for a minute.

Then two.

Then three.

Then –

“Are you done yet?” Logan deadpanned, his tone etched with the slightest trace of irritation.

Remus, while still throwing up, held up a finger to indicate ‘not yet’. After coughing up both kidneys and his gallbladder, Remus sat up, shifted himself so that he was sitting as though on a chaise longue and propped his head on a hand. “All done!”

Virgil went through a full-body shiver then – while pointedly ignoring the sizable pile of internal organs sitting placidly next to the chest of drawers – leveled the intrusive Side with a glare. “What do you want, trash rat?”

Remus pressed a hand to his chest as though offended, a faux offended look on his face. “Why, emo! Is that any way to say hello to a friend?”

“More like constant annoyance,” Virgil retorted. But Remus, as always, didn’t take offense to that. He thrived on chaos and dissonance, after all.

Logan lightly placed a hand on Virgil’s arm as a silent form of communication to not take it too far. He looked up at Remus coolly. “Is there a particular reason for your presence, or did you show up just to be a nuisance?”

“Oh, you know me! I like showin’ up when I’m not wanted!”

Then Remus peered down to look at Logan more closely.

“My, you clean up nicely, Logan! A lil’ predictable considering what you like, but damn!”

A faint flush peeked out of Logan’s cheeks but he kept a straight face. “I don’t know if that’s your form of a compliment, Remus, but…thank you, I guess.”

“Of course, it’s a compliment, you dork! I could just eat you out right now!”

Logan’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. “I thought the expression was ‘eat you up’?”

“Nope!” Remus chirped, popping the ‘p’ sharply. “I meant, eat you out! As in eating as-“

“OKAY!” Virgil shouted, now crimson. “No need to finish that sentence!”

Remus tutted and slipped a hand into his pocket. He pulled out a white round container, screwed the top off and dipped his fingers into the contents inside before smearing it all over his face like a face cream.

“You are way too tense, Virgin! You should relax! Like what I’m doing right now!” He held out the container. “Facial?”

Even from their respectable distance away, both Virgil and Logan could see that the white substance inside the container was way too thick and viscous to be a face mask, not to mention the sharp, pungent scent accompanying it. They wrinkled their noses and chorused their refusal in perfect unison. “No thanks.” Remus shrugged and continued his impromptu self-care routine.

Virgil let out an annoyed growl. “Would you mind shoving off? We’re in the middle of something.”

Remus looked back at them. “Oh? Would that ‘something’ happen to involve Nerdy Wolverine’s date with Sugar Daddy?”

Logan and Virgil stopped and stared up at Remus, their irritation evaporating on the spot.

“You…know about my date with Patton?” said Logan.

Remus rolled his eyes. “Who doesn’t? It’s all Patty-Cakes has been talking about for a week! At least, that’s what Janny told me, since he talks to him more than I do.”

Virgil’s lips tightened at the mention of Janus, but he bit his tongue this time. He was still tense around the snake, and he still had a tendency to lash out in small, passive-aggressive ways. But after the ‘big talk’ all of them had from ages ago, he really was trying better to at least tolerate Janus’ presence even at his discomfort. Mostly for Thomas, but also a bit for Patton, seeing as he still felt a bit bad for the way he’d treated him after the wedding. If Patton really didn’t have a problem with Janus, then he would try himself too, though old habits die hard.

Logan’s flush deepened at the mention of Patton, and his eyes softened a smidge, but his neutral expression remained uncracked. He adjusted his glasses and said: “Anyways, as Virgil said, I’m in the middle of preparing for my excursion, so your presence would be greatly appreciated if it turned scarce.”

Remus hummed at this and licked some of the white stuff off of his fingers, relishing in the looks of disgust he got out of the left-brained Sides. It was clear that he wasn’t planning on leaving any time soon. Virgil growled again.

“Let’s just ignore him, Logan. We still need to finish up.”

“Indeed.”

But they didn’t move very far before Remus spoke up again.

“Oh! I’d be worried if I were you!”

Logan turned back at this, intrigued and a little concerned. “About what?”

“Your date with Patty!”

Logan frowned slightly. “Why should I be worried?”

“Oh, you know, anything could go wrong! You two could get lost in the forest! Or you could get eaten by a bear! Or he could get eaten by a bear! Or ���”

“HEY! LEAVE OFF. That’s MY thing,” Virgil snapped, his Tempest Tongue tempering down in a serrated decrescendo towards the end.

Remus tilted his head to the side, fluttering his eyelashes at the vigilant trait. “Oh? Really? You don’t say?” he said in what was supposed to be a sweet tone but was actually not that sweet. Virgil clenched his teeth and fists in unison. Sensing the tension, Logan swooped in once more to diffuse it, resting his hand again on Virgil’s arm. Virgil was still tense and pissed but kept himself in check.

Logan looked once more at Remus, a hard, stern look in his eyes. “Try as you might, Remus, you can’t get to me. I have full confidence in my outdoor excursion with Patton, and nothing you say can convince me otherwise.”

Remus perked up at this, beaming all of a sudden. “Perfect! Then I guess the only one who needs to be worried is Patty himself!”

Logan frowned. “Patton? Why Patton?”

Remus grinned, sharp teeth on display. “ ‘Cause he’s standing in front of the door to the Imagination with Ro-Bro right now! And he’s been waiting for almost fifteen minutes!”

Logan froze at these words, and whipped his head around to look at his clock.

The colour from his face drained instantaneously.

Then – faster than an inexperienced student who’d managed to light themselves on fire with a Bunsen burner – he bolted from his room without another word.

Virgil gaped after him, then turned back to Remus. The chaotic figment smiled sweetly at him and winked at him saucily while sucking on his fingers obscenely. Virgil blushed and rushed out after Logan, flipping Remus off as he left. Remus shrugged and continued his spa routine.

 *******

Logan rushed down the corridor to the door to the Imagination, heart pounding with panic. How did he lose track of the time? He was usually so conscientious. Oh God, he hoped Patton wouldn’t be mad at him, though he wouldn’t blame him if he did. He also inwardly cursed Remus for distracting him. That was probably the main reason why he popped up in his room. Just causing his usual chaos. Only this could potentially sour his relationship with Patton, a thought which pricked Logan’s chest uncomfortably but was immediately pushed away by the main thought of ‘MOVE YOUR ASS’.

Soon the door came into sight, along with two amorphous blobs of red and light blue whom Logan knew to be Patton and Roman. He skidded to a halt and bent over to catch his breath, lamenting how his brief burst of physical activity must have affected his appearance.

“Patton – I’m sorry – I wasn’t – I didn’t –”

But then, in his out-of-breath state, Logan looked up, and he stopped, gobsmacked.

Standing before him was his sweetheart, and all he could think was…’Wow’.

Patton was a wonder in frost and winter-cloud, with cheeks glowing like the rising sun. He was wearing a pale blue dress covered with a white butterfly print. The skirt cut just above his knees, allowing him to show off his calves. A grey cashmere sweater was tied around his waist in place of his cat hoodie, and nude ballet flats replaced his usual sneakers. He had gone with a simple jewelry set consisting of a light blue rhinestone butterfly necklace and matching dangling earrings. The butterfly motif ended with a papery-thin, decorative butterfly clip clipping back his bangs.

The full look was completed with what Virgil – who’d shown up behind Logan and was also admiring Patton’s look – could define as ‘throwback 90’s’, which was: white eyeshadow, black eyeliner on the bottom eyelid only, black mascara on top lashes only, a sheer pink lip tint and glitter all over his cheeks. But…it was done tastefully, and, somehow, they managed to make Patton’s eyes look even more voluminous and bright, able to see the light within. Best of all, the glitter made the freckles on Patton’s face stand out even more. It all came together really well and was the most striking aspect of Patton’s appearance.

In short, Patton looked – objectively – adorable. And, in a word, Logan was enchanted.

Meanwhile, Patton felt faint at the sight before him. Logan was a vision in sapphire and ebony, steady and certain as the dusk that followed the twilight. His brocade vest and the black button-down really helped to set off his broad shoulders, while the rolled-up sleeves did a good job of showing off Logan’s forearms. The cat-eyes both contrasted well with his sharp features and face shape and made them less severe. The galaxy sneakers took him a little by surprise but he felt like they actually went well with what Logan was wearing. And his brief sprint had fluffed up his hair, brightened his eyes and left a dewy flush in his cheeks. There was no question: Patton’s heart was almost about to fly out of his chest.

Logan was still panting slightly and gaping at the sight before him before being shaken out of his lovestruck stupor by Roman clicking his tongue and raising an eyebrow at him. “Got caught up with work stuff or something, Teach?”

Logan shook his composure back into place and managed to say somewhat evenly to Patton:

“I…you look wonderful.”

Patton beamed. “Thanks! So do you!” Then his eyes widened as he remembered something. “Oh! And you know what’s even better?”

“What?”

Patton’s grin widened, and he slipped his hands into two slits in the sides of his dress. Then he leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial-like whisper:

“It has pockets!”

Logan smiled in appreciation. Pockets were always a good thing to have. 

Then it occurred to him that he didn’t have a gift to give to Patton, and his smile fell a little.

Just then, the teacher felt something materialize in the hand that he was holding behind his back, and he just managed to stop himself from flinching in surprise. He surreptitiously looked out the corner of his eye to see that it was a bouquet of flowers. He looked back in time to catch Roman smirking at him from behind Patton, his fingers fluttering amidst a fading mist of red and gold sparks.

Logan swallowed and revealed the flowers from behind him, holding them out to Patton almost shyly. “F-For you,” he said, a little stiltedly.

Patton let out a small gasp and clasped his hands close to his chest. He looked up at Logan, and Logan was alarmed to see tears in Patton’s eyes. Did he do something wrong? Were the flowers not the right kind of gift to give?

Then he looked down and took a better look at the flowers.

White carnations and blue forget-me-nots.

His eyes widened in realization.

A pure and true love. May it remain everlasting and faithful.

Logan remembered the flower language associated with both plants from the time he’d studied the topic all those months ago when he was first trying to repair ties with Patton. It was hard to believe that all of that had brought him to this point. Suffice to say that they were very apt descriptors for his relationship with Patton. Now he understood that Patton’s tears were not because he was sad or hurt, but because he understood and was touched by the message.

Logan looked up microscopically to make eye contact with Roman. The princely figment had a gentle smile on his face and gave a tiny nod. Logan then thought that the choice in flowers was also an unspoken message of well wishes on Roman’s part, not just a display of his own knowledge on flower language like he and Patton. He felt a rush of warm affection for the creative trait and hoped that his silent look of gratitude was communicated fluently.

He felt the flowers leave his hands and Logan looked back down in time to see Patton taking the bouquet from him. Patton cradled the bouquet against his chest, gazing down on it like it was the most precious thing in the world. Then he looked back up at Logan, and his face held an expression of such intense yet tender adoration that Logan felt pinned in place like a butterfly from Patton’s dress on a corkboard.

The sweet moment between them was broken when Roman clapped his hands and cheered:

“All right! No more standin’ around! It’s date time!”

Logan and Patton looked back at Roman with equal parts fondness and exasperation (but only a little for that last one; they couldn’t bring themselves to be too annoyed at Roman, not with how excited and nervous they were).

Then Patton looked down at his bouquet and held out to Roman. “Do you think you could – ” he started saying, before the bouquet disappeared into thin air.

He jumped in surprise and looked at his empty hands before looking back at Roman, who was smiling at him. “Already in your room and in a vase, waiting for your return,” Roman reassured him.

Patton smiled at Roman in gratitude, then he turned back towards Logan, his eyes sparkling. “You ready?”

Logan gave a smile. “Always.”

Patton beamed and held out a hand, which Logan gladly took.

Roman beamed and unlocked the door to the Imagination with a wave of his hand. “Have fun!”

Virgil, leaning against a wall and watching them, waved them off. “Be safe.”

Logan and Patton smiled in gratitude and reassurance to the anxious Side and started making their way into the Imagination.

Once they’d fully entered and the door started closing behind them, Roman called out: “Make sure to look for the red rose bush at the entrance to the woods when you wanna come back! Enjoy!”

And with that, the door clicked shut behind them.

Virgil let out a breath and slipped his hands into his pockets.

“Well, that’s that. Hope things’ll go fine for them,” he said quietly.

Roman rolled his eyes and slung an arm around Virgil’s shoulders. “They’ll be fine, emo. I’m certain they’ll have a date they’ll never forget.”

Virgil nodded in agreement, then looked at Roman. “By the way, did you manage to solve your problem?”

Roman furrowed his brow. “Problem?”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Y’know, the whole thing with Logan and Patton?”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Ah! That! Yeah, yeah, I did!”

Virgil waited. But Roman didn’t say anything after that. He raised an eyebrow.

“Well? How did you do it?”

Roman shrugged half a shoulder airily. “Oh, you know. A lil’ of this, a lil’ of that...”

Virgil side-eyed the romantic trait warily. He didn’t like how cryptic that sounded.

“Roman…what did you do?”

Roman just smiled. Boy, were Patton and Logan in for a real surprise.

 *******

On the other side, after watching the door dematerialize behind them, Patton and Logan turned to look at each other before smiling, both giddy with excitement about the date and enamoured with the sight of each other.

Then they turned around and –

They stopped dead in their tracks.

They blinked.

Then they looked at each other.

Then they turned around again and blinked once more.

What they saw before them was…not what either of them had been expecting.

They were standing at the entrance of a large wood, with tall trees looming over them on either side. The red rose bush Roman had mentioned was sitting on their left, as expected. This whole set-up wasn’t unusual.

What was, was…well, it was a bit difficult for them to put into words.

Logan had anticipated a picture-perfect summer’s day: blue sky, white cumulus clouds, a lush wood filled with friendly fauna which would lead to bucolic rolling hills of green and flora, with a perfect temperature in the 70s range (or, again, in the 20s since he had no preference for one system over the system and had studied both Metric and Imperial enough to be well-versed). The ideal setting for a picnic.

Patton had expected a peaceful summer evening: just a simple forest for them to walk through while it was still light out, with the sky all painted with pretty colours like orange and pink to start with. Then once they reached a wide, open clearing at the end, the warm colours would fade to cool ones like blue and purple in time to welcome the expanse of stars dotting the sky above, with a breeze that was cool but not too cool. The perfect way to enjoy stargazing.

What they got…was an amalgamation of both.

It was as if the whole world around them had been divided, split evenly at its center, into two different lands: one bathed in sunlight, and the other shrouded in moonlight. A split screen between day and night come to life. For Patton, it reminded him of that Pixar short with the two humanoid blobs – one personifying Day and the other personifying Night. Somehow – unbeknownst to each other – Roman had managed to literally fulfill both of their requests at the same time. It was both jarring and strangely beautiful at the same time.

Both Sides were beyond confused. What had happened? Why was it like this? Did something go wrong when Roman tried to fulfill their request? Should they go back or try to contact Roman in some way to inquire about the layout? Was it safe?

But the door was already gone, and it wouldn’t pop up again until they were ready to leave. They’d barely started the date! They figured that it was no use worrying about it, for now. It was the Imagination, after all; even though Roman and Remus could control it, it could still be unpredictable and flighty at times. It was in its nature. So, they decided to roll with it.

Patton looked around again. “So…which direction should we go?”

Logan looked around himself, then bit his lower lip. “I…admittedly do not know.”

Just then, something flickered in their peripheral vision and they turned around in time to see twin rows of white bioluminescent mushrooms light up along a long pathway they hadn’t noticed before.

“What the?” Patton commented.

“I suppose this is Roman’s way of making sure we don’t get lost on our way to…well, wherever we’re going, I guess,” Logan replied.

Patton nodded, nibbling on his lip a bit. He hoped that the clearing was actually going to be there. He didn’t know what he would do if it wasn’t.

“What mushrooms are these?” he said to distract himself from that worry for the time being. “I don’t think I recognize them from anything in real life.”

Logan hummed in thought and walked closer to them, gently tugging Patton along. He bent down slightly and peered at one of them, trying to get a better look. After a moment or so, he sighed and shook his head.

“I cannot identify them, unfortunately. Knowing Roman, they’re probably an amalgamation of any mushroom Thomas has seen in his life, or maybe they’re a whole new creation altogether.”

Patton nodded at this. “True. We are in the Imagination.”

Logan nodded at this and looked back down the pathway. The end of it was too far off for him to see what was there, but he hoped the hill where their picnic was supposed to take place would be there. Otherwise, his surprise for Patton would be all for naught. Well, there was no use worrying about it for the time being. They would cross that bridge when they came to it (although, from his peripheral vision, he was pretty certain there was no actual bridge for them to traverse).

Logan turned back to his loved one and gave him a smile, then nodded his head in the direction of the path ahead of them. “Shall we?”

Patton smiled back at his sweetie and nodded, giving his hand a squeeze. Logan felt his heart skip a beat at that.

The two lovers started following the path towards whatever destination they were going in, illuminated by the mushrooms lining the pathway. They took their time – after all, there was no hurry when it was just the two of them – and they took in their surroundings, never breaking the link between them. Even though it was a little unnerving to be traversing the Imagination in such a juxtaposed state, both had to admit that seeing how different the Imagination looked in both settings was oddly beautiful, in a way. To observe how the trees began by being lit up in shades of shiny gold and chartreuse before turning into deep greys and silvers. To have sunlight filtering through the canopy on one side and moonlight peeking through on the other. To hear birds singing in one ear and crickets chirping in the other. It really was something to experience.

And, as an added bonus, it allowed them to admire each other in secret.

As though by natural design, Logan found himself walking in the shaded section of the Imagination, which left Patton walking in the lit side. They’d done it without even thinking about it; it’d just felt right to do so. And as Patton looked all around him and cooed at all the fauna and flora to his heart’s content, Logan admired his darling in all his effervescent glory. 

The sunlight fell softly on Patton, leaving him framed in a golden aura reminiscent of the holy figures Thomas read about in his early Catholic upbringing. His butterfly jewelry left speckles of light briefly on nearby objects. The butterfly clip in his waves seemed to dance with merriment. And the glitter on his cheeks shimmered even more, like traces of fairy dust, even Logan wasn’t really in the habit of using such fantastical, flowery language and metaphors. 

In truth, Patton was wondrously, gloriously, inebriatingly magnified, and Logan felt like he would never get enough of just looking at him. 

Granted, Patton’s beauty – both outer and inner – made Logan feel a bit inadequate, even if he never admitted it out loud. How could he ever keep up with him? 

Then Logan shook his head firmly. No. None of that. Patton had told him: you are enough. And though he wasn’t Janus, he could tell that Patton was telling the truth. So, he pushed the thoughts away and allowed himself to sink into the belief that he was enough for Patton, and that was okay.

Then something caught his eye and Logan turned to see bats flitting about on his side, starting their evening search for food. He watched them with a slight smile, facts that he’d memorized about these nocturnal creatures flitting through his head as he observed.

At this point, Patton turned his head and took in the sight of Logan, the moonlight falling on him like a gossamer curtain. Logan came across like an ethereal woodland ruler, the epitome of calm and steadiness. Which was ironic considering his penchant for disliking anything not rooted in reality, which was why he still clashed with Roman on occasion. Just…the way the glow of the moon highlighted his cheekbones and shoulders even more. How the vest defined his waist. The galaxy sneakers seeming to twinkle like their real-life counterpart as he walked. And his forearms…oh boy. Logan just looked and was perfect to Patton.

Okay, well, maybe not perfect. Yes, Logan had his moments of temper and stubbornness, and he still tended to get so focused on his work that his self-care suffered (and Patton or Janus had to step in), but in general the logical Side was unflappable, able to get through anything with steely nerve and steadfast standing. Patton wished that he could be more like him. Less energetic, less extroverted, more collected, more careful. 

But he knew that Logan wouldn’t want that of him. He loved Patton as is, and would be devastated if he changed any part of him. Patton could take a few lessons from Logan, yes; allow himself to be influenced, but never lose the core of who he was as a Side. He could do that.

Soon the path started narrowing, and Patton and Logan came to a curtain of leaves that clearly led somewhere. They looked at each other for a moment, then each pulled a curtain back. They gaped at the sight before them.

A large, wide clearing stretched out as far as they could see, with the woods framing its sides all around, and in the middle of the clearing was a medium-sized hill with a somewhat flattened top. Above them, the sky expanded out into infinity, and its appearance was most awe-inspiring to behold. It was still evenly divided by the dichotomic light filters, but without the canopy in the way, Logan and Patton could experience the full scope of its beauty. On the light side, the sky was still bright and gay with the golden rays of the sun, Disney-esque blobs of fluffiness and its rich azure hue. On the dark side, the moon was the only source of light amongst the inky blackness of night. And right in the middle, uniting the two opposites, shades of fiery vermilion and rosy gold, royal blues and soft violets, all blended seamlessly into each other, with no muddiness or mismatches.

After taking in this lovely sight, Logan and Patton noticed something at the top of the hill. Looking at each other again, they started climbing the hill together. Fortunately, it wasn’t too steep, so at least neither of them would get too tired by the end. Once they got closer, they saw that the ‘something’ was a brown wicker basket sitting on top of a large black-and-white checked blanket.

Logan smiled. It was his picnic. Thank goodness Roman pulled through for him in the end. He gently tugged Patton towards it. Once they reached it, Logan let go of Patton and slowly sat down on the blanket. He looked up at Patton and smiled, patting the empty space beside him.

Patton complied, though he was still a little confused. “Where’d this picnic come from?”

Logan flushed. “This is…a surprise. For you.”

Patton blinked. “Me?”

Logan nodded and reached out to take Patton’s hand in his again. “I wanted to do something special for you, and I know you love picnics so…here you go.”

Patton blinked. A picnic. Logan set up a picnic. Logan didn’t like picnics very much. And yet he set one up. For him.

Logan’s confidence started to waver the longer Patton was silent. “Is it not acceptable? Maybe I could have gone with something else like –”

But Logan didn’t get to finish his sentence because Patton suddenly tackled him in a hug, nearly knocking both of them over. Logan just barely managed to keep them upright. He was also barely breathing due to how tight Patton was hugging him. Did this mean Patton liked it?

Then he felt Patton press a long, fervent kiss into his cheek before the moral Side sat back, his arms around Logan’s neck. His eyes were watery but he was grinning, and the light in his eyes was shining bright.

“I love this,” he breathed.

Logan nearly sagged with relief. Patton liked it. Patton was happy. That was all he had wanted.

“I – I’m glad to hear that,” he said shakily.

Patton grinned wider and he kissed Logan’s cheek again before letting go of him and crawling his way to the basket. Logan allowed himself a moment to get back his composure before crawling over himself to assist Patton.

They spread out their meal on the blanket. There were sandwiches (Logan was pleased to find that Roman had followed his instructions on making sure they were an equal balance of protein, carbohydrates and vitamins to ensure good nutrition and energy upkeep, though this was negated by the fact that they were cut into various shapes of both geometric and animal types for some reason, but he let it slide upon seeing the delighted look on Patton’s face), a simple salad for Logan and potato chips for Patton, lemonade and – the pièce de résistance, if Logan thought so himself – buttery thumbprint cookies with Crofter’s in the middle.

Patton immediately dove for the Tupperware containing the cookies, yanking the lid off of the container and taking one out.

“Patton, you’ll spoil your appetite if you eat dessert before the main meal.”

Patton paused and looked back at Logan, keeping steady eye contact. He brought the cookie closer to his mouth at a slow but steady pace.

“Patton…”

Patton slowly opened his mouth, cookie an inch away from consumption, still never taking his eyes off of Logan.

Logan looked back, poker face in place, unmoving and unreadable.

Patton started lowering the cookie onto his tongue.

Suddenly, Logan whipped out a hand lightning-quick and grabbed Patton’s wrist. Patton tried to pull his arm away and bring it closer to his mouth so he could still eat the cookie, but Logan kept a firm grip. Soon he and Logan were in a weird tug-of-war, impulse versus self-control. But there was no heat behind their struggles; both Sides were smirking, the ‘fight’ turning into a playful scuffle. Soon, Patton found himself on his back with Logan straddling him on top and pinning his arms down by his head, cookie still in hand but out of reach of his mouth.

Logan smirked down at his partner, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Looks like I have the upper hand.”

Patton pouted up at him. “No fair. You cheated!”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Oh? How so?”

“You tickled me! That’s, like, the dirtiest trick in the book!”

Logan let out a laugh at that. Then he bent down low and whispered into Patton’s ear: “All’s fair in war and love, darling.”

Patton shivered at the close proximity of Logan’s mouth to his ear, his low, deep voice sending his heart aquiver.

Then inspiration hit him, and he quickly turned his head and licked Logan’s cheek.

Logan let out a squawk and sat up slightly to wipe at his cheek with mild disgust. As Patton had hoped, Logan used the hand which had been holding down the one holding the cookie. He immediately popped the cookie into his mouth, grinning triumphantly.

Logan froze and looked down, blinking in confusion at what had happened. Then it clicked in his head what Patton had done. He glowered down at the moral Side, who just smiled back up at him innocently while still chewing the cookie. But Patton wasn’t worried. He could tell that Logan was fighting a smile by the corners of his mouth twitching so he knew he wasn’t really in trouble.

It wasn’t long before Logan gave up faux-frowning and he rolled his eyes fondly. Then he lowered himself further so he was lying on top of Patton, faces inches away from one another. He reached a hand up to cradle Patton’s face and stroked his cheek with his thumb. Patton leaned into his touch.

“You are very lucky that you’re objectively adorable,” Logan murmured.

Patton scrunched up his nose. “I know you are, but what am I?”

“Adorable.”

Patton’s flush deepened and Logan felt his heart stutter in his chest. Patton craned his neck to boop his nose against Logan’s and gave it a little nuzzle. The minute skin-to-skin contact was still enough to send sparks shooting through both of them, and their muscles went taut. Their chests were flush against each other, and Patton wondered if Logan could feel the warmth in his chest radiating out. The sweet, fruity scent of the jam on Patton’s breath wafted near Logan’s nostrils, and a surge tingled through him, much like the one he’d felt the night when he and Patton first held one another in each other’s arms. He felt the magnetic pull from before push his face closer to Patton’s, but he let it this time. Patton felt the same, and he didn’t stop it either. They were alone in the Imagination, they were on a date, and they were in a very intimate position. Why not let it happen now?

Soon their lips were scant inches away from each other, and their anticipation was palpable. Almost there –

A chittering sound jolted them out of their dream-like state. They turned their heads around in the direction of the picnic basket, just in time to lock eyes with a grey squirrel poking his head out of the basket, a cookie in its mouth.

“Hey – hey! What are you – ” Logan exclaimed, immediately clambering off Patton to chase after the squirrel, only to fall flat on his front. But the squirrel was too quick for him, scurrying out of the basket at top speed and scrambling down the hill, leaving Logan lying on the ground looking very put-out by the cookie theft.

Patton, however, was giggling up a storm; he was too amused by the situation to lament the loss of warmth, nor the squandered opportunity.

“Let ‘im go, Logan. He just wanted a little snack!”

Logan couldn’t help but pout an infinitesimal amount. “But they’re our cookies,” he grumbled.

Patton snickered again and he crawled closer to Logan and kneeled next to him. He placed a hand on Logan’s cheek, and that action made Logan look up at him. Patton smoothed out the creases at the corners of Logan’s mouth with his thumb.

“I can always bake more, honey,” he said softly.

The sour look on Logan’s face dissolved away at Patton’s gentle tone and tender gesture, and he nodded. “Alright, love.”

The look on Patton’s face then turned mischievous. “Besides, you could say the little guy is –”

“Wait, Patton, don’t –”

“– nuts for Crofter’s, too!”

Logan let out a groan that could probably raise the dead from their eternal slumber. Patton broke into peals of laughter over Logan’s reaction.

“Why are we dating again?” Logan said wryły.

Patton let the last of his giggles fade away and he bent down to place a peck on Logan’s forehead. “Because you love me.”

Logan gave him an unamused side-eye, which lasted for a fraction of a second before his face softened and he let out a sigh. “I do,” he acquiesced quietly.

A thrill rushed through Patton at this, and he just barely stopped himself from just kissing Logan point-blank right then and there. Another opportunity would come up. Besides, he was starting to get hungry.

Patton helped Logan up into a sitting position. “C’mon, let’s eat the rest of the food before the little guy decides to bring some friends over!”

Logan agreed, and they helped themselves to the rest of their picnic with no further mishaps or interruptions. Roman – as asked – had manipulated the temperature to keep it staying at 74 degrees Fahrenheit/23 degrees Celsius, so, this way, they were comfortable. The sun was still warm, though, so they were grateful for both the occasional cloud cover on the sunny side and the cool breeze they could feel wafting from the moonlit side. All in all, it was a delicious meal.

After they were done and had put away the remnants of their picnic back inside the basket, Patton sat back on his hands and gave a satisfied sigh.

“So…whatcha wanna do now?”

Logan was about to reply when something flickered in his peripheral vision overhead. He looked up in curiosity, and his eyes widened.

At this, Patton looked up just in time to see the first stars of the night sky popping into view. He grinned with delight and relief. It looked like Roman actually did come through with his promise to make Patton’s wish come true. He could get the stargazing underway.

He turned to Logan to say something, then stopped and stared at the sight he saw.

Logan’s face was aglow with awe and wonder, his mouth slightly open and the stars reflected in his eyes. For a moment, Patton saw a glimpse of the little Side once known as Curiosity. Who used to be fascinated with the world around him and everything in it. Who could study and spout facts and information about anything that interested him without pretense or self-consciousness. Who never failed to be overjoyed whenever he learned something new. Before he grew up. Before he turned serious. Before he became Logic. It wasn’t completely gone, just buried deep beneath the stress, jadedness and stringent foundation of the adult ‘Logic’ mentality. It came out every so often, especially when Logan got started on a topic he liked, but Patton wished it would come out more. Maybe it could, with a little more time and coaxing, and doing stuff like this. Just seeing Logan like this was more rewarding than he could ever know.

Patton let the moment linger for a bit longer before sliding closer to Logan and slipping his hand back into Logan’s. This seemed to jolt Logan out of his trance and looked at Patton, his face still possessing that same wonder. Patton gave him a big smile and, with a nod of his head towards the sky, whispered:

“Surprise.”

The wonder turned to confusion, and Logan looked from Patton to the sky and back again a couple times. Then the realization hit him between the eyes, and he looked back at Patton with a completely open face. He pointed a trembling finger upwards.

“That…you mean…did you…” he said hoarsely, trailing off.

Patton’s cheeks flushed and he nodded shyly. “Yeah…I had a surprise for you, too. I know how much you love stars, and how you like to talk about them, so I figured that stargazing would be a good idea and I made sure the sky was as accurate as the one in real life so…yeah.”

Logan stared. Patton had also had a surprise. He had had a surprise for him. Out of everything Patton could have chosen to do, the empathetic trait had thought about what Logan liked. And he chose stargazing. He went through all that effort. For him.

It was Patton’s turn to grow anxious as Logan’s silence stretched on. Was this the right thing? Oh, he hoped it was. He didn’t know what he would do with himself if this was a mistake. Why wasn’t Logan saying anything? Was he mad? Disappointed? What? Patton had to fight hard to keep the thoughts from snowballing, though he still found himself opening to say something – what? An apology? To explain himself? Who knew?

“Logan? Are yo–”

But this time it was Patton’s turn to be cut off as Logan wrapped an arm around his waist and raised a hand to cradle his cheek. Then Logan leaned forward and pressed a kiss into his other cheek before gently pressing their foreheads together.

“Thank you,” Patton heard a wobbly whisper. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Patton felt like he could almost faint. Logan wasn’t angry. He wasn’t disappointed. He was happy. He loved the surprise. That was all Patton had wanted and hoped for, and he got it. He copied Logan by raising a hand to cradle Logan’s own cheek, and closed his eyes.

As they lingered in that tender moment, it slowly dawned on the two lovers why the Imagination was the way it was when they first entered. Both had gone to Roman and pitched their ideas to him separately, without any knowledge of each other’s plans. And, somehow, Roman was able to mash the two ideas together. That’s why the sky was showing a steady progression from day to night. That’s why there was a hilly clearing for picnicking and stargazing. That’s why both of them could do the things they wanted to do.

Patton made a mental note to make sure to bake a batch of extra-special cookies for Roman later.

Soon, they pulled back from the tender embrace and smiled at each other, and Patton figured that it was time to get the stargazing underway. He looked up and scanned the sky briefly, before spotting what he’d been looking for and grinning.

“Hey, Logan, can you tell me more about that constellation?” he asked, pointing at some indiscriminate point above him.

Logan looked up at where Patton was pointing. “Which one?”

“The…uh, the Pila- no. The Play-Doh – no. The – ugh!” Patton flushed with embarrassment. Why couldn’t he pronounce things right?

Sensing Patton’s consternation, Logan reached out to take one of Patton’s hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “No need to rush, darling,” he said patiently. “Can you describe it for me?”

Cheeks still flushed, Patton gave a minute nod. “Um…there’s, like, six or seven of ‘em, and they’re kinda in a clump.”

Logan’s eyes widened in realization. “Ah, the Pleiades Star Cluster?”

“Yeah! That! I, uh…don’t really know how to pronounce it. Heh, heh.”

Logan chuckled and squeezed Patton’s hand again. “No worries, love. I’d be more than happy to tell you all about it. It’s actually one of my favourite constellations.”

Patton cocked his head. “Really? How come?” He already knew that it was one of Logan’s favourite constellations, but he actually didn’t really know the reason why.

Logan’s smile turned tender, and he reached out a finger to lightly trace the faint freckles speckled across Patton’s nose. “Because they remind me of someone very dear to me.”

Patton’s eyes went wide – both from Logan’s smile and the implication of that statement – and his face went through a full flush. “Oh,” he squeaked.

Logan smiled at him fondly before sliding an arm around his waist. Patton wrapped both of his arms around Logan’s own waist and snuggled into Logan’s side. They positioned themselves so their backs were to the lit side and they were facing the night sky of the dark side. That way, they had warm sunshine caressing their backs and a cool breeze on their faces.

“So, the Pleiades, also known as the Seven Sisters, got its name from Greek mythology, specifically from the seven daughters of the Titan, Atlas, and their mother, the Oceanid Pleione…”

Before long, Logan was prattling enthusiastically about every constellation he could identify in the night sky, telling stories and facts and everything in-between. And Patton absorbed everything Logan had to tell. How could he not, when Logan looked so excited to share something that was meaningful to him and made him happy? And Patton found it all interesting, anyway, so it was a win-win.

Just then, something caught Patton’s eye and he craned his neck to look at it better.

“Hey, Logan? What’s that star? I don’t think I’ve ever seen that one before.”

Logan looked in the direction of where Patton was pointing and squinted a little, trying to see better. The star that Patton had pointed out was a pale yellow, and its glow was pulsing in regular intervals. What was unusual about it, though, was the fact that it seemed to bob up and down not unlike a toy boat in a bathtub. Logan’s brow furrowed.

“I’m…actually not sure. It doesn’t fit any description of any of the stars I’ve memorized. It certainly can’t be a Yellow Dwarf like our Sun, considering how small it is. Maybe it cou-”

Suddenly, the light winked out of existence.

Patton sat up, stunned. “Huh? Where’d it go?”

Logan was also stunned, but intrigued as well. “I…I don’t know.”

Then, it winked back on again.

Patton and Logan exchanged confused looks with each other.

Then, another yellow star flitted up from the ground, winking on and off like the first.

Then another.

And another.

And –

Logan and Patton gaped as a cloud of millions of these yellow stars floated up out of the grass and into the air. It was like a star-patterned theater curtain being pulled up into the rafters, and they were all blinking on and off in a silent symphony.

That’s when it hit Patton.

These ‘stars’ weren’t stars at all.

They were –

“Fireflies!”

Logan looked at Patton. “What?”

Patton flapped an excited hand. “They’re fireflies! Not stars!”

Logan looked back at the shimmering sight before him. Patton was right.

“Of course, Lampyridae. How did I miss it? That would explain their intermittent bioluminescence.”

“Well, they certainly know how to light up the night!”

Logan sighed at that, but he was smiling.

As they took in the iridescent beauty circling around them, an idea lit up in Patton’s head. With a wide grin, he jumped up from the picnic blanket and held his hands out towards Logan.

“Dance with me.”

Logan blinked up at Patton. “What?

Patton made grabby hands at him. “Come dance with me.”

“But…there’s no music, a-and I don’t really –” Logan started saying before he stopped. Patton was looking down at him with a pretty pronounced pout. Logan caved then. How could he possibly say no to his other half? So, he extended his own hands and allowed Patton to enthusiastically grab ahold of them and pull him to his feet.

Patton maneuvered them both into a basic starting position: he placed one of Logan’s hands on his waist, then he rested one of his own hands on Logan’s shoulder, and finally their remaining hands grasped each other, almost like they were about to start a waltz. Once they were in position, Patton led them into a simple slow dance, just swaying them back and forth, left and right.

Logan was rather stiff at first; he wasn’t much for dancing. Or, at least, he wasn’t much for dancing in public. He didn’t like having attention on himself, not like Patton. And also, even if he did do a little bit of dancing in his own free time – which he didn’t! – he always thought that music was a necessary accompaniment to physical activity to ensure movement and whatnot. So, them just dancing to nothing was a little jarring for Logan.

But as they continued, Logan took in his surroundings. The light and dark modes of the Imagination allowed them to see something different as they turned around. He had to admit that there was something special about being able to see the world in both ways at once, and how the sounds of nature acted as their accompaniment. Also, the fact that it was just him and Patton, no one else around – well, except for the cookie thief – meant that no one was watching them. They could enjoy each other’s company in peace. Lastly, he looked down at the Side in front of him. Patton was glowing with enthusiasm, enjoying himself. Patton had always been better at celebrating the little moments in life than Logan. Dating the lively figment had shown him how to slow down and just breathe, even for a few minutes. That there was more to life than just being a Side and performing their function as a part of someone’s personality.

So, Logan slowly began to relax and allow himself to just be in the moment, be with Patton, nothing more, nothing less. He relished in the warmth and closeness between him and his love, and how it was just the two of them. Patton could feel Logan loosening up, and that in turn both turned up his joy and made him let go of his own trepidation, too (he’d been a little worried about stepping on Logan’s feet due to his clumsiness). As they kept swaying and turning, the proper dancing positions they’d started in slowly fell away as the space between them became non-existent. Patton wrapped his arms around Logan’s neck, and Logan wrapped his arms around Patton’s waist. They touched their foreheads together and they just held each other tenderly, still continuing to sway.

This lasted a little while longer, then Patton looked up and took in the moment. Something about being just the two of them, surrounded by all this beauty and magic, filled Patton with a euphoria he hadn’t felt in a long time. Just a bubbly joy popping and bursting inside of him, making his limbs tingle and his feet itch. He loved it. He loved this setting they were in. And he loved Logan.

With a laugh, Patton started swinging and spinning them around enthusiastically. Logan was caught off guard by the sudden change in the comfortable dance routine they’d fallen into, nearly tripping over his feet in the process. But Patton’s joy and enthusiasm was infectious, so Logan couldn’t help but go along with it. He let out a startled laugh himself, but, again, knowing they weren’t being watched, he let it happen. Soon, their laughter was the only sound ringing through the air, besting the birds and overshadowing the crickets. After a while, they stopped so as not to make themselves too dizzy.

Catching their breath from the increase in physical activity, Logan and Patton took in the new sight they were bearing witness to.

Patton was now standing in the moonlight, and Logan was standing in the sunlight.

If seeing one another in the light gradient that suited them most had further endeared them to one another, it was nothing compared to when they each stood in its opposite.

In the moonlight, Patton seemed like a watercolour sketch, his edges blurred and softened by Mother Nature’s night filter, the glitter on his cheeks now twinkling like stardust.

In the sunlight, Logan came across like a supernova, exploding in an ineffable burst of sound and light, his normally immaculate hair now all wild and flaring out like a solar flare.

Unable to look away, Logan and Patton stared at one another.

Then, in a bold display of courage, Logan gathered Patton into his arms, sliding his arms fully around the moral Side’s waist and pulling him close.

Patton let out a squeak and braced himself by resting his forearms against Logan’s chest, his fingertips just resting over the slope of Logan’s shoulders. He looked up, face bright with awe and love. The light in his eyes increased in intensity. It seemed impossible that it could burn any brighter, but it did.

As they stood in that loving embrace, the two Sides felt everything that made up the world around them fall into place and settle. Safety and comfort made tangible and all-encompassing. The world around them crawled to a tranquil quiet, still and hushed, as though holding its breath in anticipatory observance of what the two Sides would do next.

To Patton and Logan, they knew what was going to happen.

This was it. The moment they’d been waiting for, not just all day, but ever since they’d realized how much the other meant to them. How they’d wanted to share everything that made each of them endearing to the other, and all that set them apart, too. This time, this place, this opportunity, was right where they should be, and it just felt so right.

Caught once more in that magnetic pull, slowly but surely, Patton and Logan’s faces drew closer to each other, much like what happened all those weeks ago when Patton had nearly fallen down the stairs and Logan had saved him. But this time, for Logan, there was no hesitation. No self-consciousness. No balking. And for Patton, there was no uncertainty. No nerves. No second-guessing.

And right then and there, the world fell away as the heart and mind united as one. Every opposite half seamlessly slotted into place like the last prodigal puzzle pieces.

Cool water cascaded over Patton’s head, akin to jumping into a refreshing pool on a hot summer’s day. An airy breeze wafted into his face, helping to bring down the warmth in his face a bit to prevent him from overheating. With Logan in his arms, the ground felt sturdier beneath his feet, and not just in the literal sense. Patton felt steady when he was with Logan: less unsure, more apt to listen than react, less impulsive, more calm, more likely to think his actions and arguments through. Logan tempered his energy enough so that it didn’t get out of control, but not completely so that he wasn’t his usual happy pappy self.

Warmth rushed from the top of Logan’s head all the way down to his toes, as though he’d laid down to soak in the full brunt of the sun’s rays fully. And the only thing he could feel was…comfort. Loving and unconditional. When he was with Patton, Logan laughed more, smiled more. He was less quick to temper and more willing to listen through other people’s arguments that were pathos-leaning. Patton helped him to be less judgmental, less calculating, more open to new ideas and approaches that he’d otherwise dismiss completely or sneer at for not being within the realm of reason he was used to.

Patton’s hands reached up to cradle the underside of Logan’s face as he smiled into the kiss. Logan smiled back as he drew his arms tighter around Patton’s waist, pressing him further against his person. The contrasting sensations and temperatures danced around each other much like when they’d actually been dancing before: weaving and skimming but never clashing. And throughout their shared intimacy, the fireflies rose up around them like a protective barrier, as though shielding them from any unwanted attention or intruders in the vicinity.

Soon, they had to come up for air, and Logan and Patton pulled back from the kiss. They both heaved tiny sighs and then looked up at each other. Both had flushed cheeks and bright eyes, and both were feeling fuller and more complete than they ever did before.

Logan felt something bubbling up in his chest, and he started to chuckle, which turned into a giggle, which ended in full-on laughter. Then – in a rare act of exuberance – Logan lifted Patton into his arms and spun him around in a circle, laughing loud and joyfully. Patton squealed in surprise but also delight, wrapping his arms around Logan’s neck and holding on tight. His skirt flared out with the momentum, and it seemed like he became an extension of the day sky, the butterflies coming to life and flitting gayly on their canvas.

Once he’d completed a full turn or two, Logan carefully lowered Patton back onto the ground but kept his hold on him. Patton beamed up at him then cuddled in close, resting his head against Logan’s chest and sighing in contentment. Logan’s own smile widened and he drew Patton closer again, arms wrapped fully around him, with one holding on his upper back and the other cradling his waist, then laid his head against Patton’s.

Holding each other tenderly, they looked back up at the sky. They once more noted the contrast of the day and night modes the Imagination was in. But, this time, the differences felt less divisive and more unifying. They saw the opposites coexisting in harmony alongside each other: the sun and moon, the stars and fireflies, the warmth and cold – all of it. How they complemented one another and propped each other up. Fortifying strengths and buffering weaknesses. Never clashing, taking turns, giving each one their time in the transient state of nature. If that wasn’t a metaphor for something, neither knew what was.

Taking his eyes off of the wide expanse stretching above him for a moment, Logan lowered his head down to place a kiss on Patton’s forehead. Patton shivered at the action and looked back up at Logan, a lopsided smile on his face. Logan grinned back at him. The date hadn’t been what either of them had expected, but…if they were being honest, this was better than what they had planned for.

Just then, a strange noise that sounded like a ‘peep’ broke through the quiet. Logan and Patton startled and looked around them, confused.

“What was that?’ asked Patton.

“I don’t know,” Logan replied.

Then they heard the peeping sound again, but this time, it sounded like it was right in front of them.

Logan and Patton looked down, and they blinked at what they saw.

Right in front of them, looking up at them with tiny, beady black eyes, was a tiny yellow duckling.

Logan’s mouth opened slightly in surprise, which immediately clicked shut again as Logan winced at Patton’s high-pitched squeal. The moral Side’s eyes were wide with excitement, and he flapped his hands hard enough that they were a blur for a few seconds before covering his mouth with them. He looked back at Logan with an expression that Logan (privately) called Patton’s ‘enamoured by cute, baby animals’ face.

“Oh my gosh, Logan! A baby duck! Where did it –”

The tail end of Patton’s sentence broke off when he looked back, due to his excitement morphing back into confusion.

There were now three ducklings standing in front of them, looking blithely back up at them. Patton and Logan exchanged bewildered looks.

“Wait. Where’d the other two come from?”

“I’m…not sure. But there’s probably –”

This time, Logan was the one who trailed off when he looked back down, his bemusement growing.

Five ducklings now looked up at them.

His own confusion increasing, Patton looked around them. “Hold on. Where’re their parents? Are they all alone out here?”

“Wait, Patton –”

Seven ducklings.

The pattern continued a few more times, with one Side or the other inadvertently looking away for even a millisecond, whether to look at each other or their surroundings, and before they knew it, there were twenty-one ducklings surrounding them, peeping and cheeping and waddling about. Some were pure yellow, others were dark brown, and others still were a mottled mixture between the two colours.

Logan ran a hand through his hair, his bewilderment at an apex. “I – what – how –”

But Patton, while no less befuddled, soon fell swiftly under the spell of the adorableness of the ducklings. He stepped forward and knelt down on the ground, his skirt spreading out around him like a Disney Princess. Immediately the ducklings took to him like such, swarming around him, settling on his skirt and trying to climb up into his lap. Patton was beyond delighted, and he cooed and chatted with the little creatures to his heart’s content.

Logan stayed standing up, feeling awkward and unsure of what to do. Then he heard a series of deep quacks a little off to his right, and he turned his head to look.

Sitting a little off from where they were, keeping a safe distance but still in full view of the ducklings, were two adult Mallard ducks. A quick look-over told Logan that they were two males. A brief staring contest took place between the humanoid figment and the Anas platyrhynchos, with nothing said between them. Logan wondered very briefly where the mothers were.

Then it hit him. He remembered that homophobia doesn’t exist in the animal kingdom, so these mallards were likely partners.

As though to prove his point, one of the mallards let out a quack and pressed its bill into the other’s neck. The other, in turn, turned its head to nuzzle their beak against the other’s head.

At this sight, Logan smiled. Nature truly was a wonder.

Then he looked back down at the other wonder in front of him. Patton was still basking in the adoring attention of the ducklings. Thankfully, no more had spawned since they’d reached the current number they were at, so this way they wouldn’t be overrun with them. As it was, Patton’s lap had no less than ten ducklings, his shoulders were occupied by one occupant each, and two somehow managed to make it to the top of his head.

Logan chuckled at the sight, then he lowered himself onto the ground as slowly and carefully as he could, so as not to spook the ducklings nor his sweetheart.

At hearing the shuffling next to him, Patton turned his head as best he could so as not to jostle his passengers. His face was aglow with joy and wonder, and the light in his eyes was as bright as the sun itself. Logan’s smile widened at Patton’s happiness, and he leaned forward to carefully kiss Patton’s cheek.

As he did, he thought to himself that, maybe, Roman had been right. The date had needed more ducks.

 *******

The door to the Imagination creaked open and Logan and Patton stepped out into the corridor, holding hands and with lazy, blithe smiles on their faces. Once they were through, Logan turned around and pulled Patton into another embrace, Patton letting out a giggle as he did so. Without looking, Logan waved his hand and shut the door to the Imagination, and then he brought Patton in for another kiss. Patton sighed contentedly and stroked Logan’s cheek lovingly with a thumb. Logan cradled the back of Patton’s head tenderly, chest warm and full.

“So…I take it the date went well?”

Patton and Logan broke apart at the voice, looking around to see Roman and Virgil standing a few feet away from them, amused yet fond looks on their faces. Logan cleared his throat and adjusted his tie.

“Yes, it was…satisfactory. In more ways than one.”

“Everything was perfect!” Patton cheered, the grin on his face almost splitting his face open.

Roman squeeed, shaking excited fists, then he came forward and pulled Patton into a hug. As the right-brained Sides chittered and chattered about what happened, Virgil slunk over to where Logan was and gently nudged his shoulder with his own, smirking slightly.

“That good, huh?” he quipped.

Logan blushed slightly and looked away, but he couldn’t keep a smile from coming over his face.

“Quite.”

After Roman and Patton broke apart, Patton skipped over to Virgil to give him a hug as well. Virgil – though not one for frequent physical affection – allowed it, smiling slightly as he did. He was glad to see Patton so happy, and he listened as Patton babbled happily about the date, interjecting with a comment every so often.

While this was happening, Logan made his way over to Roman and held out his hand. Roman looked at it in surprise before taking it. Logan gave him a firm handshake and smiled. “Immaculate job, Roman. That was some splendid work.”

Roman blushed and cleared his throat. “O-Of course! Nothing but the best from yours truly!”

Logan’s eyes softened and he said, in a quieter tone: “You really did do a good job, Roman. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Imagination as beautiful as it was today.”

Roman squeaked and looked down, flustered. He really wasn’t too good with genuine compliments, and especially if they were coming from Logan of all Sides. Logan saw this and took pity on him, so he switched topics.

“Did Patton also come to you about the date?” he asked under his breath.

Grateful for the change in topic, Roman nodded and grunted: “Yeah.”

Logan snickered at that and shook his head.

“I hope it didn’t mess it up too much. I know that –”

Logan stopped him with a hand on his arm, his eyes understanding. “It’s fine, Roman. It all worked out in the end. I haven’t seen Patton this happy in a while.”

Roman looked over at the Dynamic Duo – Patton was still chattering a mile a minute and Virgil was still listening and nodding though Roman could tell that his social spoons were starting to run low – and smiled. “Yeah, me neither.”

Then Logan looked back at the prince with a smirk. “More ducks, huh?”

Roman squirmed and shifted on his feet slightly. “Um, well –”

Logan chuckled and patted his arm. “You were right. It did need it.”

Roman looked back up at Logan, face still red and with surprised yet delighted eyes. Logan smiled back at him.

When Patton ran out of steam, Virgil let out a breath and said: “All right, well, good to see you two had a great time. I think I’m gonna head back to my –”

A peep cut through Virgil’s sentence, seeming to echo throughout the corridor.

Everyone froze, blinking at each other in surprise.

“What was –”

Then three pairs of eyes looked at the last remaining pair, who was shifting slightly on his ballet-flatted feet as though he was hiding something.

Logan lifted an eyebrow. “Patton…did you take one of the ducklings from the Imagination?”

Patton squirmed a bit then looked up with an unconvincing smile.

“Um…no?”

Another peep squeaked out, this time louder and coming from the general vicinity of where Patton was.

A woosh was heard, followed by a tsk.

“Really, lying to your beloved? I never thought you’d do such a shameful thing, Patton.”

Virgil and Roman stiffened slightly as Janus popped into view but held their tongues, not wanting to break the present happy atmosphere.

Patton blushed scarlet but – under Janus’ steely gaze – slipped a hand into one of his pockets and pulled out a yellow-and-dark-brown ball of fuzz. The fuzzball untwisted itself till its head was free before looking around at the company surrounding it and peeped.

Logan sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You couldn’t help yourself, could you?” he said wearily. But there was no true anger or even irritation in his tone, which helped Patton relax a little.

“I mean, how could I not?” He lifted up the duckling to eye-level, eyes sparkling. “He’s just so cute!”

Roman and Virgil rolled their eyes fondly. That was their Patton. Then they turned to look at Janus with less fond expressions.

“Is there a reason why you’re up here, snake?’

Janus pressed a hand to his chest as though hurt. “Am I not allowed to share in the joy of our fellow comrades?”

Virgil sneered. “I never thought you cared much in the way of being a team player.”

“Boys…”

Virgil and Roman winced. Patton had put on his ‘Dad’ voice. Recognizing a need for civility when it was necessary, they cut their confrontation short, though it didn’t stop them from throwing hard looks at Janus’ own smug one.

“At least there’s only one of them here,” Roman muttered under his breath quietly.

“Think again, Ro-Bro!”

Everyone jumped at that, including Janus, and immediately looked up. Remus was sitting upside-down on the ceiling, grinning that Cheshire-cat grin of his. The chaotic trait twisted himself once, twice, then fell towards the ground. Everyone turned their heads away just in time to avoid watching the impact, though they couldn’t block out the sickening CRUNCH that accompanied it.

Janus sighed, muttering “Oh, Remus…” under his breath with his eyes closed.

After snapping his limbs back in place, Remus twisted his neck this way and that to get out every last crack he could possibly get, relishing in the cringes he got from everyone. Then he turned towards the two lovebirds, with Logan looking down on him coolly and Patton looking a little nauseated. Remus immediately noticed the duckling in Patton’s hands.

“Aww, a duckie! How cute! Hey, didja know that male ducks have corkscrew penises that can reach up to almost ten inches? That’s more than half their body length! And if there’re as many as three or more male ducks and one female duck, they’ll actually conduct a fucking gang bang! Sometimes injuring or even killing the female! But hey, that’s why the females evolved to have vaginas that’re like fucking mazes –”

“OKAY, Remus! Thank you very much for that commentary! Very helpful of you!”

Janus’ sarcasm was not lost on anyone, not even Remus, who simply didn’t care. Grinning wildly, he blipped out of existence and back right behind Logan and Patton, throwing his arms around their shoulders and catching them off guard.

“So, anyways! It looks like the date went well, considering the sappy looks on your faces!”

The expressions on their faces were very much not of the sappy kind at that moment; Logan had his stoic mask in place and Patton was trying very hard not to cringe at the duke’s close proximity. Luckily, Logan took up the initiative to continue the conversation.

“Yes, Remus. Thankfully, very little went wrong, so, all in all, it was a successful excursion.”

“Y-Yeah, it was!” Patton managed to stammer out. Remus still unnerved him, but he was truly trying his best to be nice around him.

Remus grinned wider and he gave their shoulders a strangely comforting squeeze. “Glad to hear that! If you two’re happy, then that’s good enough for me!”

Everyone stopped at that. Remus, giving a nice compliment? Was this real life or some sick twisted reality the Mindscape had thrown them into? But the look now on Remus’ face was softer than usual, more genuine. So…it seemed that he wasn’t bullshitting with them. Virgil and Roman were at a loss, Janus’ face was unreadable, though his eyes seemed a smidge softer as he looked back at the intrusive Side, and Patton and Logan were truly gobsmacked. This was so unlike Remus: being sincere and contained in his chaos. Maybe that was why it made it all the more meaningful. So, they returned tiny half-smiles, not quite fully trusting but willing to extend an olive branch.

Of course, it didn’t last long.

“So! You two gonna fuck now?”

“REMUS!”

“What? They went on a date, they’re hot for each other, now’s a good time for a juicy session of stuffing the meat locker!”

“Oh – my – fucking – GOD –”

Shouts of disgust and shock rang throughout the hallway at Remus’ words. Remus simply shrugged and took out a nail file to smooth out his acrylics.

Virgil sighed noisily. “Okay, well, that’s my cue. I’m out. See you guys tomorrow.”

Roman waved. “Have a good evening, Emo! Hopefully no nightmares befall you in your sleep!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “I think after having to stare at your face all night, Princey, I think I can handle a nightmare or two.”

Roman gasped in indignation, and Virgil smirked back at him.

“Oh, please! As if the two of you weren’t cozying up to each other all night!”

The look of indignation and smirk were swiftly wiped off the faces of their respective owners who whipped around at the intrusive Side and chorused in strangled voices: “WHAT?”

Logan blinked. Janus’ eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch. And Patton squealed: “You guys were cuddling?! Oh my gosh!! I can’t believe I missed that!”

“How – how did you – where –” Roman could barely get the words out. Virgil’s face was as pale as his foundation.

Janus looked at Remus with a calculating slit-eye. “Did you hide behind the couch again?”

Remus tilted his head innocently. “Mmm, maybe! I may have been in the middle of planning another Rube Goldberg machine so I may have been testing things out behind there and then, when they came and sat down, I may have peeked in on them from time to time!”

Janus hummed thoughtfully at this. Then he said: “So, what happened next?”

“Janus –”

“Wait! I wanna know –”

“We don’t –”

“Let’s not –”

But Remus, looking for all the world like Halloween had come early and delighted to have a captive audience, ignored Roman and Virgil’s protests and plowed on.

“So, while I was behind the couch, they came into the common room after seeing Nerdy Wolverine and Pattycakes off on their date to watch some movies! They started arguing ‘bout what movie to watch – Ro-Bro wanted to watch Disney as usual, and Emo wanted to watch something horror-related! Finally, they decided to compromise and watch Nightmare Before Christmas since it’s both scary AND it’s owned by Disney! At first, they just watched it quietly and sang along to the songs so I ignored them and carried on with my thing. But THEN Emo started crying during ‘Sally’s Song’ and Ro-Ro immediately went to comfort him, and from that moment on they continued cuddling through the rest of the film!”

Both Roman and Virgil looked like they wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow them whole. Logan and Janus both had mild expressions of surprise. But Patton was beaming and would have pressed his hands into his cheeks if he wasn’t still holding the duckling.

“OH, that is ADORABLE!” he squealed, and Virgil hid his face in his hands.

Janus smiled crookedly. “Who would’ve thought that big, bad, Anxiety was actually a softie?”

“Nooooooo,” Virgil moaned, trying to disappear into thin air. Roman was also trying to make himself as small as possible.

Remus cackled. “Yeah! I guess I was wrong about which Sides should be fucking!”

Roman started sputtering, face as crimson as his sash, and Virgil hid inside his hoodie, pulling the hood strings tight. Remus roared with laughter on the floor while holding his stomach and Janus smirked, shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

Logan rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness happening in front of him before he looked down to his side. Patton was leaning against him, giggling at the others’ antics and having recovered from Remus’ usual discord. His face was open with laughter and happiness. Logan’s face softened and he smiled down at his sweetheart, wrapping an arm around Patton’s waist and pulling him in closer against him. Patton looked up at him and beamed, the light in his eyes bright and effervescent. He slowly lifted up his hands so that the duckling was closer to Logan’s face. The duckling blinked up at Logan and gave a tiny peep. Logan chuckled and – understanding the silent cue Patton was communicating to him – put out a finger to scritch the top of its head.

Yes, things went a little more differently than what he’d expected or wanted. But he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[it-was-summer]

Video Killed The Radio Star- Chapter 3 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Same things applies with the asterisks in this chapter, I hoped it helped last chapter! Please remember that if anything relates to you in this series that you are not alone and you are loved! I am begging you all to read the warnings and be safe. Thank you for all the love and support! Please enjoy this chapter. Love, Em :)

Warnings: Infidelity, cursing, blood, gruesome imagery, mentions of suicide, disturbing content, sex talk, sensitive material ahead (After the interrogation a very dark scene will occur, please, please be wary)

Plot: The team start to piece some new information together and get a little bit closer to finding you, Morgan and Reid unknowingly meet with their Unsub. 

Word Count: 3k

The first shop Derek and Spencer visited was a tiny shop just around the corner from the library, they proceeded to bombard the manager with questions. Had they seen a beautiful woman come in here, asked if anyone had bought an insane amount of roses around Valentine’s Day. They got an abundance of death glares for that question, it did seem stupid.

They didn’t get anywhere till store number five, a slightly bigger store that seemed to be closer to your apartment complex. Behind the counter stood a red-headed woman, looking extremely bored. Her name tag read, Sorrel, and her posture became straighter as the two men approached the counter. “Welcome into the Rose Bud, how can I help the two of you today?” her voice didn’t seem to match her, Spencer assumed it was just her ‘customer service’ voice.

“Hi,” Derek motioned between the two of them, smiling, “I’m Derek Morgan and this is Dr. Reid, we’re with the FBI. Are you the manager?”

Her eyes went wide at the sound of ‘FBI’, but she didn’t seem nervous just surprised.  “Manager? No, our manager is Heather.” She glanced over at the clock mounted on the wall before frowning “Heather left early today around four, usually, she’s here from open to close but she got a call from her husband and left.”

Spencer spoke up this time “What time do you open?”

“We’re open from nine in the morning till seven in the afternoon. Why are you asking about Heather?”

“We just wanted to ask her a couple of questions,” Morgan answered gently, he didn’t want to panic the girl more. “Do you think she would be alright with us visiting her house, to ask her some questions?”

Sorrel bit her lip gently, she had a hard time saying ‘no’ to people, so she nodded a very slow ‘yes’. “I don’t think she would mind, no.” she opened a drawer, pulled out a notepad, and started to write down Heather’s home address, handing the paper over to Derek quickly. “She’s not in trouble, right?”

“I doubt it, ma’am.”

Heather lived in the suburbs, a white picket fence adorned with bushels of flowers, rose bushes, azaleas, peonies, etc. There was no doubt she had a green thumb. According to Garcia, her husband was in the navy and had been deployed to Okinawa, Japan. They got married when she was twenty, a couple of years after she dropped out of college.

When she opened the door her hair was wet, but even Spencer took note that she was, indeed, beautiful. She invited the two of them in, getting two glasses of water for them as they sat in her living room. Her living room had grey walls with forest green accents, Spencer found it aesthetically pleasing. She set two glasses on the dark green coffee table using coasters, said coasters had different flowers on each one. She noticed how Spencer’s eyes lingered on the coasters and she smiled before saying “They were a gift,” she sat down “When you work with anything floral people just default to flowers.”

Morgan laughed lightly and nodded “I understand that.” Heather smiled at him before she let out a tiny sigh.

“So, how can I help you?”

“We just wanted to ask some questions regarding your customers, see if you had any regular customers, possibly a woman?”

“I’m sorry, but could you be a little more specific?”

“She probably seemed on edge, came in on Valentine’s Day and bought quite a bit of rose’s?”

“Valentine’s Day? You’re joking right? Everyone buys roses on Valentine’s Day!”

“We know, we know, maybe she came in later on in the day, possibly near closing?”

Heather bit her lip, doing a phenomenal job of not smiling, before she let out a tiny gasp. “Yes! Oh, what was her name?” she asked herself as she tapped her temples gently “Adeline Smith! She came in just before closing, looked like she had been crying all day or something, bought a big order of roses she reserved the day before, all red roses. I remember she used a credit card, it had a picture of her family on it.”  Heather smiled a little, letting it drop as she feigned concern. “We went to college together, well before I dropped, is she okay?”

“I’m sure she is,” Derek said as he stood up, Spencer following quickly. Heather led them to the door, exchanging pleasantries with the two men with the sweetest smile, closing the door gently as the two men were walking down her driveway towards their car. Her smile dropped as soon as the door shut, she turned on her heel and headed upstairs to a sealed door with locks decorating it. She unlocked them as fast as she could. Her mind was racing, you were just right upstairs and those men, those filthy, horrible men could have found you. They could have exposed the love the two of you shared, she couldn’t let that happen. Then she stepped into the pink room.

***

The morphine was wearing off slowly, it started about an hour ago. The throbbing pain in your foot was coming back slowly but now you felt more awake. You were able to sit up on the heart-shaped bed, scooting back so you could rest against the headboard. It was possible that over the course, well actually you didn’t know what day it was, you only knew it was a weekday because the other two days she had been with you almost all day. Your eyes scanned the walls, foam padded them and you didn’t see any windows so you assumed that the room was sound proofed, you frowned.

While you were happy you could have a complete thought, you were slowly become more convinced that you were never going to get out here. Years would pass and you wouldn’t remember your name, you would be Catherine. Maybe Heather would kill you. Then a sudden and terrifying thought snuck in, what if you fell in love with Heather? Would it come to the point that you would be so brainwashed to love someone so delusional?  

The sound of keys jingling and locks unlocking brought you back to reality. You didn’t have time to think about the future, not when Heather was coming in with a frown on her face. “Catherine,” her frown dissipated as she shut the door behind her, quickly making her away over to you. You tried your hardest to move closer to the bed, Heather noticed this and let out a sigh as she sat on the bed next to you. “I know I look mad, some terrible men,” she pulled you over to her by the arm, stroking your hair quickly “Some terrible men, tried to take you away today.” You turned your head towards her, speaking in a shaking voice.

“Men?”

“Men. It’s always men. I hate them, all of them. They’re all pigs, honestly.” Heather pushed some hair out of your face before she continued “My husband, he’s gone right now, thank god, he’s such a bastard. Sleeps around on me, can you believe that? He sleeps with other women, while he’s married to me!” her eyes met yours and she relaxed more “That’s why I’m so glad I have you, my dear Catherine.” she whispered gently as she leaned in to kiss you on the lips sweetly, a shiver shooting down your spine as you tried your best to disassociate from the situation.

Heather pulled away with a soft giggle, she looked so desperately happy, a complete one-eighty from how she was when she came in just a few seconds ago. You tried to think back to college, tried to think about how she used to be. “You know I remember when I first saw you,” Heather spoke up as she ran her fingers through your messy hair slowly “, it was move-in day and you were walking back downstairs when you saw me struggling to pick up some boxes and you stopped, bent down and helped me. I was so happy that someone so kind saw me and picked me.”

You hung on her words, wondering why she decided to say that you picked her, when in fact you just simply helped her. Was that all it took for someone to become obsessed? Your stomach twisted with anxiety as Heather pulled you in her lap, hugging you around the waist.  “If they ever found you, I don’t know what I’d do,” she trailed off slowly before she rested her chin on your back “ If they ever found us, I’d have to kill you and then I would kill myself.” Heather decided in a quick moment, hoping that they would never find you and you, wanting to stay alive, felt the same.

That night, Heather had fallen asleep in the same bed as you. You, however, didn’t get a wink of sleep the entire night, you thought about the keys she had carelessly thrown on the dresser, but you didn’t think you had the strength to make that type of move. In all her madness, Heather had forgotten to feed you. An empty stomach, mixed with veins filled with morphine was not a good mix, and despite your disgust, you were finding it hard to stay awake. As soon as Heather left in the morning, your eyes closed.

***

Spencer and Morgan called Garcia on their way back to the Richmond police station, learning that Adeline was a widow and a mother of one daughter. When they got back, J.J. carefully placed a photo of Adeline on the whiteboard. “It seems like Adeline Smith and Heather Alexander both went to the same college as Y/N L/N, all lived in the same hall and possibly on the same floor.”

Prentiss spoke up “Are we sure the unsub is a woman?” Spencer nodded as he wrote down some information underneath Adeline’s photo.

“It’s possible that when her husband died, Y/N reached out and that’s when the obsession started.”

“Let’s bring her in for some questions before we decide that,” Hotch said, then the team headed out.

March 9, 20XX

The next day, Adeline was cradling her cup of water, seeming extremely depressed as she waited for someone to come into the interrogation room. Her mind should have been at the police station, but all she could think about was her daughter. Her daughter was currently sleeping in a hospital bed. “Adeline,” Prentiss’s voice broke her away from her thoughts in a second. “Thank you for coming in today.” Adeline nodded, feeling suddenly stiff.

“You knew Y/N L/N in college, correct?” Another nod. “Would you say the two of you were close?”

Adeline smiled at the thought of you, of course, the two of you were close, you were at her wedding. “Yes, we were roommates. Y/N was my best friend, she was at my wedding, and when John,” Adeline paused and took a sip of her water. “When John died, she made some dinners for me and Anna, my daughter.” she finished, looking Prentiss in the eyes. Behind glass Reid and Hotch shared a look before turning their attention back to the interrogation.

“Did you ever visit Y/N at work?”

“The library? No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t have the time to visit people most days,”

“Did you visit her after Christmas?”

“No!”

Prentiss sighed, leaning in towards Adeline, “I understand that you love her, you wanted to visit her. You gave her all those flowers on Valentine’s Day.”

“No, I didn’t! Valentine’s Day? I was at the hospital on Valentine’s Day, my daughter, that’s her birthday! I went to Heather Alexander’s stupid floral shop to get roses for her.”

“For your daughter?”

“Yes,” she stopped for a second and looked down at the table “She has leukemia, we, I mean I found out this December and she’s six. She’s six and she wanted her prince charming to come to the hospital with flowers. So I hired an entertainer and bought a shit ton of roses for her. Heather, she and I were never that close, but Y/N liked her, so she gave me a good deal on them and held them for me.”

Prentiss slid a photo, taken on Valentine’s Day, of your apartment covered head to toe in rose petals. Adeline let out a small sound, almost sounding impressed “So, her boyfriend or whatever was being romantic. Is that why I’m here?” She looked up at Prentiss.

“This past few months, Y/N learned she had a stalker, unfortunately, officials can’t step in till something happens. On Valentine’s day, Y/N came home to her apartment that had been covered with red rose petals. This past Saturday, Y/N was abducted from her apartment in Richmond.”

Adeline suddenly felt sick to her stomach, thinking about how her friend was missing and how she was just now finding out because she was a suspect. “I think I’m going to be sick.” She announced, standing up and running over to the bin in the room to vomit.

Prentiss shot a look over her shoulder towards the glass where the rest of her team was standing, unseen, they all knew that this wasn’t their unsub. Adeline was hunched over the trash bin as Prentiss brought her another cup of water. “Thank you so much for your time today, Adeline.”

***

The next day Heather was there in the morning to open up her shop, her smile was as bright as the sun as she flipped the lights on. People usually commented that everyone looks better when they smile, but the smile that Heather was wearing on her lips seemed more sinister. She was moving a hibiscus tree over when she decided that she wanted to go home. One of her other workers, Mac, was already there and she didn’t need to cover any shifts so she went home to her Catherine. When she entered the pink room, she watched your sleeping form from a chair near the bed, she wanted to leave you alone, she wanted to let you sleep but she couldn’t help it, you looked so damn beautiful, she just had to. She walked over to the bed, gently kissing your lips before she was inspired to lift your shirt and kiss your exposed stomach.

You woke up slowly, feeling something gently touch your stomach, you tried to ignore it and go back to sleep but when you moved to turn over, two hands squeezed your waist tightly. Your eyes shot open, sitting up as soon as you realized what was happening to you. “Heather!” you yelled in surprise, trying to scoot away from her, but she held you tight and you didn’t have enough energy at this point to fight back.

“Catherine,” she said your name with a smile before she kissed your exposed stomach lightly. You held back a scream and writhed around with disgust.

“Please I don’t want to,” you whimpered softly, trying to push her hands off of your waist.

“You don’t want to?” Heather scoffed, with a glare “Fine, I guess you don’t love me very much!” She snapped at you as she slid off of the bed, moving towards the dresser. You felt a sigh of relief escape your lips, happy that Heather’s hands were no longer touching you.

Heather pulled a small paring knife out of one of the drawers, walking back over to you as she watched your body tense. You made a move to roll over to the other side of the bed, but Heather grabbed you by your broken ankle, pulling you back to her. “You don’t love me?” she questioned as you let out a cry of pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You screamed as Heather moved to straddle you on the bed, trapping you as she held a knife close to your face. “No, no, please, I’m sorry,” The tiny knife was slashed against your bottom lip, your mouth filled with the taste of blood.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Emma, but sometimes you’re just so stupid!” Heather hissed, spit hitting your face as she traced your chest with the small knife, cutting into your shirt to expose the top of your breast. Heather smiled wide as an idea came to her, she put the tiny kitchen knife into action, carefully carving into your skin.

You trashed underneath her as you cried, painful hot tears falling from your eyes. Every time you would move Heather would snap at you “You’re ruining it, Jane!”

“I’m not Jane, I’m not Emma-”

“Yes, you are!” the blade went in deeper as she finished carving the letter ‘L’. “Hold still!” she screamed before she squeezed your cheeks together in a painfully tight way with her free hand. “Isn’t this better than loving me? Jane?” she let go of your face quickly, continuing with her work. Once she was done, she dropped the tiny knife on the bed with a smile. “Now there’s no hiding what you are, Slut!” she said with a twisted smile as her eyes met your terrified ones, she brought saliva to the surface of her tongue and spat in your face. After she did that she grabbed the bloody knife, got off of you, and headed for the door, locking you away once again.

As soon as the door shut you broke down sobbing, you wanted to scream but the painful cut on your lip made you think twice. You moved a hand up to your chest, feeling around the word carved into your chest, shaking. You laughed softly through your sobs, ‘Slut’, it made sense now. The stupid panties, Heather thought you were a whore. She hated that about you, but apparently, she was in love with you. After you had your emotional breakdown you stayed on the bed, unmoving, staring up at the ceiling as you bled onto the bed with spit on your face.

[vex-bittys]

In Your Dreams: A Horrortale Story

Raffle prize for @purplesangel. When your life is a living nightmare, is it any surprise that your dreams are just as bad? Thankfully a dream-walking human has arrived to help, but will she still want to help Axe when she finds out what he’s done to stay alive?

WARNING: character death mention, language, blood mention, some disturbing imagery including cannibalism (no details)

READ ON AO3

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Life in the Underground was an endless nightmare for Axe. During his waking hours, he checked his traps and hunted in the forest, often returning home empty-handed only to see the disappointment and desperation in his brother’s sockets. Supply trains became frantic riots as too many monsters competed for their share of too little food, and the sharp pain of hunger lingered even after the skeleton brothers’ meager meals.

Madness seeped in through the hole in his skull, distorting reality. He clawed at his skull, trying to release the pressure of the frenetic energy that consumed him. He could feel the darkness lurking, waiting for him to make a misstep, some seemingly trivial mistake; that’s when it would strike, shredding his thoughts and shattering his focus. There was no escaping it, and Axe knew that one day it would swallow him up.

Sleep provided no reprieve. In his dreams, Axe continued to suffer. He watched his brother fade away to nothing from starvation. He felt the gnawing emptiness of his own unsatisfied hunger. Feasts appeared before his single working eyelight only to transform into grains of sand that slipped through his fingers when he reached for it. He ran through the shadowed forest outside of Snowdin, fleeing an unknown terror in the night while thorny tendrils of a deeper darkness caught him, slowing his progress, dragging him down, and allowing his madness to suffocate him.

Days dragged on into months, and months melted together into years. Waking life remained bleak with monsters still struggling (and at times failing) to survive. Food sources dwindled, and the gathering of other resources fell by the wayside as every creature in the Underground focused on filling their stomachs as best they could. Everything stagnated in its state of destitution and decay… everything except Axe’s dreams.

Axe’s nightmares repeated themselves night after night until slowly, they began to change. It started with the appearance of a new character- a human that Axe didn’t recognize, though he thought it might be a female. At first the human only observed the horrors that lurked in the sleeping world of Axe’s mind. Gradually, though, she began to interact.

It all started during one of Axe’s nightmares about his brother. Crooks would turn a pleading gaze to his brother, mouthing a soundless plea for food. Axe would fall to his knees, sobbing and pounding his fists into the ground. Crooks slowly collapsed, and the gradual dissolution of his body sent his dust drifting towards his brother, filling Axe’s mouth and nasal cavity until he choked himself awake… usually. This time things turned out differently.

“I’M SO HUNGRY, BROTHER,” Crooks’ voice came from the air around them and not his mouth, the teeth there long since broken or knocked askew from gnawing away at non-edible items simply to assuage the need to chew.

The human appeared, but instead of observing the unfolding scene, this time she glanced around until her eyes fell upon Axe.

-

Since the very first time you’d stumbled across this heart-breaking nightmare scenario, you’d worked hard to return to it. Dream-walking involved focus, practice, and a bit of luck, and in this venture, the fates were on your side. You’d walked this collection of now-familiar nightmare images many times, slowly working out which participant it belonged to and why the skeleton with the broken skull kept replaying these torturous situations in his sleep.

Now, you were ready to interact and hopefully restore some peace to the sleeping world of the monster in front of you. You extended a tentative hand towards him, unsure if he would welcome your touch as a form of physical comfort. He just stared at your outstretched hand as if it would bring some new and unfathomable horror to his disturbingly familiar nightmare. You let your hand drop. Words would have to suffice then.

“It’s not real,” you told the stocky skeleton firmly.

His sockets narrowed suspiciously. “what do ya mean, ‘not real’?”

“This-” you gestured to the vague, nondescript surroundings and very crisp, well-defined figure of the tall, starving skeleton behind you, never breaking eye contact “- is not real.”

The skeleton with the broken skull laughed, a harsh and humorless sound that grated against your ear drums. You sighed, frustrated but determined. It rarely improved a situation to reveal yourself while dream-walking; most dreamers forgot their nightly travels when they returned to the waking world anyway. Those who didn’t merely discarded your presence, along with any advice you might give, as part of a nonexistent scenario that could not influence their waking lives and should thus be ignored.

Normally, you resigned yourself to this and walked through dreams as a silent observer, but this skeleton’s torment tore at your heart and brought forth a tenacity within you to help him in the only way you could: by walking through his nightmares and defeating them, one by one, until nothing remained but peaceful slumber.

The skeleton with the broken skull scoffed. “you don’t know nothin’,” he growled obstinately.

“I know that your most frequent nightmares involve food, madness, and losing this other skeleton-”

“my bro,” the skeptical skeleton clarified.

“Losing your brother,” you amended with an edge to your voice, “to starvation.”

“it’s not like you’re some expert investigator piecin’ together the clues, pal. we’re all starvin’ and dustin’ down here,” he said, dismissing your observations. You frowned. Was there some truth to these nightmares? Often dreams represented thoughts and fears in a metaphoric manner, but maybe this skeleton didn’t have room in his troubled mind for subtlety.

Regardless, you would do what you could for him in the only place that you could reach him.

“I don’t know what your life is like in the waking world,” you conceded softly, “but this? Everything around us now? It isn’t real.” You continued in a rush before the skeleton could interrupt you again. “You’re asleep, and your mind is processing your fears… and your reality… into nightmares.”

The skeleton inhaled, obviously ready to argue again, but you stopped him by making a sweeping gesture towards his brother. Had this nightmare been reality, the taller skeleton would be dust by now. Instead, the image was frozen in place thanks to the stocky skeleton’s change of focus. “Look,” you ordered boldly.

-

Axe begrudgingly allowed his single eyelight to stray from you to his brother. While it was true that nothing had changed in the scene since he had turned his attention to his unexpected visitor, the moment he looked back, the scenario resumed. Flakes of dust drifted loose from his brother’s body, floating away on an unfelt breeze to disappear as they dispersed until nothing remained except the unbearable weight of guilt and his brother’s ghost of a voice whispering “Why?” over and over again in his head.

Why didn’t you save me?

“It’s not real,” you whispered solemnly behind him, but honestly, that didn’t matter. Watching his brother die of starvation that he should have prevented sent jagged pains through his SOUL whether it existed solely inside of his mind or not. Your next words, however, carried a much greater impact: “I can teach you how to change it.”

-

The most frustrating part of dream-walking was the inability to change the contents of people’s dreams or nightmares yourself. While you could view the unfolding events, you possessed no real power over them. Only the dreamer could affect their dreams. Thankfully, unlike dream-walking, lucid dreaming is a skill that can be taught.

As with every teaching experience, some students learn more quickly than others. Axe, as he eventually introduced himself to you, was not one of those students. The most difficult aspect of lucid dreaming for him happened to be the very first step to lucid dreaming at all: accepting that what he experienced while he slept was a dream instead of a warped reality that lived inside of his cracked skull and broken mind.

“These images all come from your thoughts,” you explained again. “You can control them, but first you have to accept that you can control them.” 

You knew that the dreams involving his brother were far too emotionally charged to make good fodder for lucid dreaming practice, and you preferred to steer clear of the choking darkness since you had no idea what effects such a powerful and overwhelming negative force could potentially have on you, even as an observer within someone else’s troubled subconscious. This only left the dreams of an untouchable feast to practice on… and practice was not going well.

As with your many previous attempts to gently guide the stocky skeleton towards seizing control of his nightmares, the lesson had quickly devolved into a squabble. You insisted that Axe could learn to control his subconscious surroundings; Axe stubbornly insisted that he could not. You would point out that this was his dream, and his mind; he would attempt to discredit your existence as just another piece of the complicated web of nightmares that plagued him: a human offering him false hope in a bleak and hopeless world.

It did bother you a little bit that Axe considered you- a (mostly) patient and helpful human- to be nightmare fuel. Only monsters lived in the Underground since the long-forgotten war, so why would Axe’s guilt-riddled dreamscapes include humans?

You decided to save the questions for another time.

“Try again,” you told Axe, who only answered with a weary, frustrated sigh.

-

Irritation swirled through Axe’s excessive magic, though it was aimed more at himself than at you. Every night you tried to help him take control of his dreaming mind, and every night, despite your calm instructions, he failed. You made it sound so easy, so why couldn’t he just grab a stupid spider donut off of the stupid table and shove the stupid thing into his big, stupid mouth?

“Try again,” you told him patiently as he brushed the gritty sand from his finger joints. He uttered a weary, frustrated sigh.

“i am trying,” he grumbled, biting back a deluge of unhelpful comments and curses. He touched another piece of food, a french fry, still steaming though it had been sitting on a pile of its doppelgangers since the nightmare began. The entire fry stack crumbled to sand before he’d even lifted one free; Axe’s patience dissolved along with it.

“if this was as easy as you claim,” he shouted, letting his anger overflow into sharp words, “then i’d be able to pick up these plates and smash them on the floor like i want to!” Without any conscious thought, Axe lifted one of the plates in question and hurled it at the ground. It shattered, leaving silence in its wake as Axe and the dream-walking human stared down at the shards on the ground in awe.

Axe gave an entire stack of plates an experimental shove, sending them cascading over the edge of the table and onto the ground where they created an inharmonious symphony of destruction. You applauded the spontaneous mess and squealed with glee, and Axe swept you up into a quick celebratory hug, spinning you around once before setting you back on your feet. As soon as he set you down, he grabbed a donut and crammed it into his mouth. Chewing, his sockets narrowed in utter bliss, he picked up a second donut and offered it to you. 

Nothing tasted as sweet as victory… except for maybe a spider donut.

-

You didn’t want to dampen the skeleton’s joy by telling him that you wouldn’t be able to taste a donut in his dreams, so you took a bite, your head still spinning from his sudden show of physical affection. With a promise to see him the following night, you stepped out of his nightmares. You felt content that you’d taken the first big step on a journey to giving Axe the power to sleep peacefully without constant, horrific nightmares plaguing him.

The next lesson would be more difficult; you intended to guide Axe through banishing nightmares of his brother’s death. Out of consideration for Axe’s privacy, you had never asked him why he had such specific nightmares about his brother, but nightmares involving a sibling death as vivid as Axe’s hinted at some very dark and complex situations existing in the skeletons’ waking world. Those hints aside, Axe had outright stated that things were terrible in the Underground where he lived. Maybe working through his dream would give him some insight into fixing his real-life situation, at least the one he faced with his brother.

You hoped so. During the nights you’d spent helping Axe learn how to lucid dream, you had come to consider him a friend. You hated the thought of him suffering. You especially hated that you could only reach him during his nightmares. You wished you could do more, but how? Those were thoughts for your own waking world.

Tonight you wanted to focus on Axe’s progress, and once he’d gotten some practice at lucid dreaming, you’d work on changing the heart-breaking nightmare of his brother.

-

Sweat beaded on Axe’s skull as he waited for you to appear. He could feel himself slipping towards darker dreamscapes, and he fought to stay in the safe in-between place like you’d shown him. He told himself that the tremors in his bones were caused by his unstable magic and not by fear. What if his previous successes were a fluke? What if he failed when it mattered the most? 

Thoughts of failure sent him spiraling into the guilty nightmare of his starving brother. After all, his failures in reality led to this, and the dire consequences that he saw unfolding in his subconscious lurked only a step behind him in the waking world. Soon his real life would become this very same nightmare, and he would be left as powerless to stop it there as he felt to stop it here.

Thankfully, you appeared within seconds to chase away the grim meanderings of his mind and help him focus on the task at hand- Crooks.

Axe’s brother loomed in front of him, eyes pleading, begging for something that Axe could not give him. He watched the image of his brother twist and reshape itself, growing alarmingly large, the bones stretching from an influx of magic that still somehow managed to provide almost no nutrition. He whispered his brother’s name, frozen in place and unable to remember what he was supposed to do to stop the scene unfolding in front of him.

A small hand slipped into his; he had forgotten about you as his familiar fears swamped him. You looked up at him with a calm expression and nodded, encouraging him.

“You can do this.” Your words bolstered his courage. He dragged his panic back under control and turned to face Papyrus… or what had become of Papyrus under his inadequate care: the monster now known as Crooks. 

“You know what you need to do,” you whispered.

Axe stepped towards his brother, focusing on Crooks as he had seen him last: tucked into his bed, the blanket no longer quite long enough to cover his lanky frame, wishing Axe a good night and sweet dreams and promising to see him in the morning. Keeping that image locked in his mind, Axe let his lone eyelight travel over his brother’s altered frame. Sure enough, not a single mote of dust rose from the other skeleton. Crooks simply stood there, watching him through sunken sockets.

Though he’d brought his brother’s recurring death to a halt, the words that swirled and echoed around him continued, too faint at first to make out individual words or phrases. His brother’s voice whispered accusations like poisoned arrows that pierced his SOUL. A chorus of questions, all beginning with “Why…?” slowed, sharpened, and gained clarity. Crooks spoke, though his mouth never moved and the words seemed to thrum within his very bones, tangible beyond mere sound.

Normally Crooks’ omnipresent voice asked him why he would allow his brother to starve, but this time the question differed, though it still sent chills to the very marrow of Axe’s bones.

“WHY DID YOU MAKE ME EAT-”

Axe quickly hushed his brother, stealing a glance at you to gauge your reaction. You simply made an encouraging gesture as if to say “Go on, you’re doing great.” He wondered if you’d feel the same way if you knew what Crooks’ next words would have been.

“i couldn’t let ya starve,” Axe spoke softly, tilting his head to maintain eye contact with his much taller brother. “i’d do anything to keep you alive.”

“EVEN-”

Axe nodded, nearly choking on guilt. “yeah. even that.”

“BUT I TOLD YOU I DIDN’T EVER WANT-”

Remorse softened Axe’s expression, and his gravelly voice hitched. “i couldn’t let ya dust. i had no choice. i’m so sorry.”

-

Without warning, Crooks slumped, but he wasn’t collapsing into dust. Instead, he crushed his brother against his ribcage in a tight hug. You sensed a loosening of the guilt and remorse that gripped this particular nightmare so tightly. Things weren’t resolved yet. Nightmares could rarely be banished in a single lucid dreaming session, but you’d given Axe the tools he needed to seize control of his sleeping world. 

Only one challenge awaited you now: fighting the suffocating darkness of the final nightmare. You made plans to tackle that monumental task once Axe felt satisfied that he could manage this current nightmare on his own. Working through the tangle of emotions that his brother’s death awakened would take quite a bit longer than satisfying himself that he could eat his fill of dream donuts, but you were willing to go the distance to help Axe.

You actually wanted to do this, no matter how much the slithering darkness terrified you. Axe just meant that much to you.

-

“I think we’re ready for the final nightmare,” you declared after a dream session in which Axe showed off by summoning various items for his brother to eat.

In the lucid dreams about Crooks, his dream-brother mostly stood or sat nearby providing companionship and support as Axe practiced controlling his consciousness. Axe enjoyed the time with his brother, despite the knowledge that this version of Crooks existed only inside of his mind. It gave him a tentative sensation of hope that perhaps someday he could experience this type of peace with his brother in the waking world, free of the constant mad scramble for survival.

Your words shattered fragile, fleeting calm. Sweat beaded on Axe’s skull. The final nightmare contained his deep, dark fears, his madness, his guilt. Tendrils that reeked of his unspeakable crimes dragged him down into the cesspool that used to be his SOUL. He didn’t want you to see that part of him. He didn’t want you to know what he was truly capable of.

You’d never come back, and he’d be left alone with the echoing, blossoming psychosis that suffocated him. It would be worse now though. You’d shined a light into his life, and now he risked that glimmer of goodness being torn away… torn away because of what he’d done.

The punishment would fit the crime of his continuing survival.

-

You stepped into Axe’s dream world, excited and nervous at the prospect of facing the unknown horrors of this last nightmare that plagued him. The endless grey limbo that surrounded you came as quite a surprise when you expected inky vines of darkness encased in the thorns of Axe’s painful emotions and memories. Axe refused to meet your eyes when you approached him. Something was off about the whole situation.

“Is everything ok?” Maybe Axe wasn’t ready to face the darkness of the upcoming nightmare. You didn’t mind; you weren’t going to push him towards something that he didn’t want to do. You weren’t exactly eager to face it either, and besides, you thought you might enjoy just spending some time with Axe.

When he raised his head to meet your eyes, you couldn’t suppress a gasp of fright. Goosebumps erupted along your arms, and you shivered.

Axe’s single red eyelight… it glowed with an eerie flickering light, seeming to swell until the socket could barely contain the vortex of its power. Axe tilted his head at an unnatural angle and laughed at your reaction. You forced yourself to stand your ground despite your fear. This was not the monster you knew. Axe now embodied the darkness of his own inner turmoil, and it froze the blood in your veins.

“nothing is ok!” Axe’s snarl dissolved into sinister chuckles that made his broad shoulders shake. He lifted a hand, phalanges curved like claws to scrape at the hole in his skull. You lunged forward to pull his hand away before he caused more damage to himself, and he shoved you roughly away.

-

The hurt and confusion in your eyes filled Axe with dark satisfaction. You needed to know just what kind of monster he was. You needed to fear him, to run away and never come back. Instead, you offered him your compassion yet again.

“Let me help you.” Tears filled your eyes. His madness must be breaking your sweet, loving heart, but he drove home his depravity because if he let himself care, you’d find out the truth eventually anyway. Losing you would hurt more if he actually had you first.

This time when you reached out for him, he dodged, letting your momentum carry you to your hands and knees on the floor. He loomed over you, oozing menace like a thick fog.

“help me?” Axe’s scornful laughter echoed around the empty landscape. “and why,” he asked cruelly, “would you help a murderer?”

“Murderer?” You repeated the word as a question, as if you weren’t completely sure you knew what it meant. Your eyes widened in shock as tendrils of darkness climbed Axe’s arm, sliding over his bones like living tattoos until they pooled in his hand, taking on the shape of a huge meat cleaver.

“how do you think i’ve survived so long, little human? i hunt, and i kill.” He grinned, his mouth stretching into a disturbing parody of joy. “humans mostly. honestly, did you think the blood on my hoodie was mine?”

-

You admittedly hadn’t thought much about the blood stains on the hoodie. Maybe they were his. Maybe they were ketchup. Maybe in his dreams he wore the stains of his brother’s imagined death. Dreams and nightmares created their own reality with its own details pulled more from a dreamer’s mindset than accurate memories. It shocked you to think that Axe truly wore a hoodie that had once been soaked with fresh blood.

Human blood.

You trembled. Axe began to circle you like a hungry wolf, casually swinging his gigantic cleaver.

“Do you regret it?” you finally asked in a tiny voice.

-

Those four words penetrated the armor of madness that Axe was using to push you away, and they struck him like a well-timed attack. He reeled, reaching for some lie to keep you from seeing the truth and pitying him.

He found nothing.

The meat cleaver fell from his shaking hand. Axe sank to his haunches, covering his face with his hands, trying to hide from you and your perceptiveness. He wanted to scare you away before you could judge him and abandon him, but you shot your question straight to his SOUL, refusing to believe the worst of him.

“every fucking minute of my life.”

This time, when you tentatively reached for him, undaunted by his previous rejection, he leaned into your touch. He hated himself for his weakness, but every second that you stayed, even if you left eventually, was a second he would cherish until time wore away even the memory of his dust.

With his first admission, however poorly he’d delivered it, out of the way, Axe couldn’t stop himself from confessing even more of his transgressions and regrets. “i lied and told my brother it was meat from an animal in the forest. he didn’t want to eat humans, but i tricked him. i couldn’t let him starve” The words poured out of him; he feared that as soon as things went quiet, you would realize what an irredeemable abomination he was and flee. “i shouldn’t have done it, but i didn’t know what else to do. we were so hungry… and it messed up our magic. there’s no way to hide what we did. no way to undo it.” 

-

Axe’s words stumbled to a halt, and you sat for a moment in the heavy silence of the grey dreamscape, contemplating them. You hated what he had done, but you also understood that his only other option would be watching his brother starve to death. The circumstances didn’t allow for any winners, and Axe suffered with the knowledge of the things he’d done. 

“You were trying to survive.” Your voice nearly cracked on the final word. You could not fathom the desperation that drove Axe to his decision.

You remembered all of the heart-breaking stories that Axe told you about the Underground: the human who’d stolen the SOULs that the monsters had gathered and fled, taking the monsters’ hope with them, the death of their monarchs at the human’s hands, the Royal Guard Captain’s ascension to a throne that she didn’t possess the skills to manage, and the unbearable suffering of monsters starving to death or falling down because of an unshakable despair.

You raised your eyes to meet Axe’s eyelight, expecting to see softness there once more, but instead his horrified expression stared back at you. You didn’t need to puzzle out the cause because a moment later, barbed shadow vines lashed you, wrapping around your legs and dragging you towards a puddle of oozing darkness near your feet. You struggled against the thorny tendrils, and they tightened, driving each wickedly sharp thorn-tip into your flesh.

Pain seared your legs, real physical pain… in someone else’s dream. Panic washed over you, and you fought harder to escape, causing the barbs to rip deeper into you.

You screamed.

-

Shaking off his shock at the sound of your scream, Axe lunged forward. He wrapped both of his arms tightly around you and wrenched you away from the grasping vines. A writhing mass of them rose up behind him, swarming over him like living things. Staggering a few steps forward, Axe set you on an empty bit of space, but the vines quickly pulled him off of his feet and into a kneeling position. More tendrils rose to wrap around him, and the inky darkness of the puddle rose up to meet them, slithering up his body and swallowing him up in the darkness.

“i can’t protect you here… i can’t keep you safe from me, from my mind.” Axe choked out the words through the darkness consuming him. He couldn’t let you come back. He wouldn’t allow you to be in danger because of him.

This had to be good-bye.

He focused his mind.

“don’t come back.”

-

You jolted awake, that one last glimpse of Axe’s red eyelight, brimming with pain and regret burning in your mind. He had kicked you out of his dreams and told you not to come back. You couldn’t dream-walk in a mind that wasn’t open to your presence. Your throat constricted, and you felt tears sting your eyes. What if you never saw Axe again?

When you tossed back your blankets, you half expected to see scratches on your legs where Axe’s negative thoughts and emotions had touched you, but your skin was unbroken. You’d never experienced a nightmare so vivid and intense, but you breathed a sigh of relief that it couldn’t reach you in the waking world. If only Axe would let you come back, you could tell him that despite your panicked reactions, his dreams had no power to harm you.

Instead, he would continue to face the torment of his past mistakes all alone… for now.

Because while you had been helping Axe deal with his nightmares, you hadn’t neglected the appalling circumstances of his reality. If you could make your waking project work, you would be able to truly save the skeleton that you cared for so deeply.

I won’t let you push me away, you vowed.

-

Axe settled himself on the bench of his sentry station, taking a break from prowling the forest for potential meals. The barren snowscape left him all alone with his thoughts, and he hated it. In one bout of unhinged boredom, he’d created a sign for the outpost: “Head dogs, 5G.” It made as much sense as anything else in the Underground. Besides, there was no such thing as a hot dog in this frigid wasteland.

The narrow lines of dead tree trunks shifted if he stared at them too long, and the wind that howled through them carried voices whose words he could not quite arrange into coherency. The windblown whispers rose in volume until the roaring of innumerable voices filled his skull. The blazing white of the snow surrounding him only added to the sensory overload. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t see. 

“shut up, shut up!” Axe chanted, clawing at the hole in his skull. Reality warped, the passage of time quickened and slowed, and nothing made sense anymore…

… and you were standing in front of him.

Axe recoiled in disbelief. How could this be happening? He hadn’t fallen asleep… or had he? Maybe you were a cruel hallucination conjured by his loneliness. He refused to accept the vision of you even when you reached out in that oh-so-familiar way to calm the scrabbling of his phalanges against the jagged edges of the hole in his skull.

Axe’s hand shot out as quickly as a striking snake and grabbed your wrist. He yanked you forward until you were partially bent over the sill of the sentry station. He raised his massive knife high above his head; his eyes held no recognition, no clarity, no sanity.

You held completely still, unflinching. The meat cleaver hovered threateningly above you, but it did not fall. You and Axe were frozen in the moment, but despite the madness that absolutely radiated from him, you trusted him not to hurt you.

“you’re not real,” Axe accused you in a gravelly whisper. You weren’t even sure if he meant to speak aloud at all.

“Are you going to kill me?” Your voice didn’t waver, and you kept your eyes locked with his single eyelight, calm yet firm.

Axe lowered the knife. Real or imagined, starving or not, he would never hurt you. You knew him too well. He released your wrist, hoping he hadn’t hurt you by grabbing you like that. He wanted to ask how you’d gotten here, but other matters demanded a higher priority.

“you aren’t safe here,” the skeleton scolded gruffly. “didn’t you listen? monsters here kill and eat humans!”

“Good thing I found you first then.” You tried to diffuse the tension with bravado, but you had to admit that your choice to come to the Underground was a risky one. Axe’s eyelight travelled over your body, searching for injuries while surreptitiously taking in the sight of you. His obvious concern for your safety filled you with warmth and determination.

“there’s nothing good about this,” Axe growled though he had to admit that seeing you again definitely felt like a good thing to him. That little bit of goodness could be snuffed out in a hurry though if another monster saw you and attacked. “i’ve got to get you out of here.”

Axe lumbered out of his sentry station, glancing furtively around the barren landscape, though it wasn’t entirely clear whether he expected to spot an enemy or an escape route. The skeleton stopped right next to you, attempting to block you from prying eyes. You found his protective stance rather charming, but you weren’t here to be charmed. You were on a mission.

You slipped your backpack from your shoulders, swinging it around into Axe’s line of sight and opening it. Seven clear canisters sat inside, each with a brightly-colored heart shape inside of it. Axe’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“are those…?” Axe sounded almost reverent, and with good reason.

“Human SOULs? Yes. I gathered these from willing donors who wanted to help set the monsters free.” It had taken dedication and time, but you’d meticulously interviewed potential donors until you tracked down all seven SOUL types that you needed. Now, only the path to the Barrier stood in your way.

Without warning, Axe swept you into a crushing hug, then proceeded to spin you around. Your feet actually left the ground, and you laughed softly at the thrill of it.

“you’ve got to meet my brother, then we’ll smuggle you into the Capitol.” For once you heard excitement and hope in Axe’s voice. His eyelight gleamed with resolution as he reached for your hand. You placed your hand in his without hesitation. Axe’s declaration that he knew a shortcut still rang in your ears as the world spun beneath you and everything went dark.

Disoriented, you tried to take in the scene around you. You’d been outside, standing in a forest choked with dead trees and carpeted in snow, but suddenly you found yourself in a house. The loud colors of the bowling alley style carpeting had long since faded, and the couch had obviously seen better days. Everything in the house was touched with the same look of elegant decay: faded colors, worn fabrics, the yellowing of book pages, and the subtle musk of disuse. 

A fine film of the dust of time spoke volumes about the life of two monsters who devoted so much of their lives to simply surviving that they were forced to neglect the basic upkeep of their home. The house looked so long abandoned that the presence of life within it seemed almost surreal. You couldn’t find words to break the silence that permeated the house, soundless echoes of what it had once been.

Movement caught your eye; a lanky figure detached itself from the shadows and stepped in the dust-mote-filled light. Your eyes travelled up and up, an impossible height despite the figure’s hunched posture, until you found facial features that you recognized from Axe’s dream. The vivid colors of Axe’s subconscious bore the same washed-out appearance here that characterized their home, but you knew this must be Papyrus, now known as Crooks due to the effects of his recent tragic diet.

Crooks wrung his hands shyly, awaiting your reaction to his somewhat terrifying appearance. His teeth were crooked and broken, caked with something red that you tried not to think about too much. His nervous actions tugged at your heart, and you offered him a gentle smile which he responded to with a smile of his own.

“I’D OFFER YOU SOME OF MY SIGNATURE SPAGHETTI AND EYEBALLS, BUT WE’RE ALL OUT OF PASTA.” His apologetic tone did little to distract you from the fact that the skeleton brothers were short of pasta but not eyeballs. 

“That’s alright. Really.” You didn’t hold out much hope that Crooks had misspoken considering Axe’s earlier admission. The sooner you got these monsters out of their Underground prison, the sooner they could return to normal healthy eating habits.

“my friend here wants to help us get to the Surface. they’ve got plenty of pasta up there. we just need to talk to ol’ Queen Undyne first,” Axe interjected, using a light tone to dispel the awkwardness of his brother’s offer. 

Crooks perked up at the mention of Undyne. “UNDYNE WILL BE SO RELIEVED. I DON’T THINK SHE LIKES BEING QUEEN VERY MUCH…” You clutched your backpack and its precious cargo of SOULs, unzipping it slightly to show the mingled glow of seven vibrant colors. Crooks peered at them with a mixture of curiosity and delight.

Axe shifted uncomfortably. “yeah, relieved,” he mumbled, refusing to meet your eyes. You didn’t have much time to wonder about the skeletons’ very different reactions to Undyne because Axe extended a hand to you and Crooks. As soon as your fingertips brushed his smooth, warm bones, everything went dark again.

In the few seconds it took your eyes to communicate the view of a once-opulent throne room to your poor confused brain, a glowing blue spear appeared and slammed into the ground so close to you that you felt the force of the impact thrumming up the shaft of the weapon. If Axe hadn’t yanked you backwards, you would’ve been impaled. Where had it even come from?

“UNDYNE WAIT! THIS HUMAN IS A FRIEND!” You followed the direction of Crooks’ voice to see an armor-clad monster with a wild mane of crimson hair. She held another glowing blue spear, and her single yellow eye focused on you with murderous malice. You staggered backwards from the force of her glare. 

“No human is a friend to monsters,” Queen Undyne roared, launching a volley of her spears at you. You resigned yourself to your doom, regretting that your rescue attempt had been such a short-lived failure.

A wall of bones erupted from the tiles of the floor, blocking the attack. Crooks and Axe both stood next to you, arms outstretched to summon the defensive maneuver. More spears struck the bones, causing them to shudder, but they remained standing. You turned wide, panicked eyes to Axe, searching for some explanation or reassurance.

“can you hold her off?” Axe asked Crooks, who nodded somberly. The stocky skeleton grabbed your arm and dragged you down a hallway of soaring pillars coated thickly in cobwebs and floor to ceiling windows of cloudy, cracked glass. Away from the immediate danger, you began to tremble. Tears welled up in your eyes.

Axe pulled you close, wrapping you in the safety of his arms and gently rubbing your back. He made soft shushing sounds, and you realized that your tears had turned into terrified sobs. Your body shook, and you hiccuped, trying to catch your breath. Axe held you until the overwhelming wave of emotion subsided.

“i’m so sorry. i thought maybe we could talk some sense into Undyne. she and my brother used to be really close, but the last human who came through here… well, that human killed a lot of monsters and stole the SOULs that we had collected towards breaking the barrier. they left us with nothing but despair and dust, and Undyne blamed herself for not stopping them. it… affected her.” Once again, Axe looked guilty.

“How can we convince her that I’m trying to help?” You gripped your backpack with determined hands. You didn’t gather these SOULs for nothing, and you didn’t plan to leave the starving monsters in the Underground without at least making an effort to save them.

“you aren’t going to convince her of anything.” You opened your mouth to protest, but Axe laid a phalange against your lips to silence you. “i want you to get out of here. it’s not safe, and i would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

“What about breaking the Barrier?”

Loud crashes sounded from the Throne Room. Axe shot a quick glance over his shoulder before pushing you further down the hallway. “i need to go help my brother. if we can convince Undyne to trust you, i’ll meet you at the Barrier to break it and free the monsters.”

“What if you can’t?” More sounds of destruction threatened to drown out your whispered words, but Axe was close enough to hear you over the cacophony. Sorrow filled his single eyelight.

“i won’t put you in danger.”

“That doesn’t answer my question!” Actually, it did answer your question, and the implications left you frantic with worry for him. You wanted to explain how you felt about him, why his plan tore your heart to pieces, that you couldn’t just leave him behind, but the sounds of battle were approaching quickly. 

Crooks slid backwards into the pillar-lined hallway, kicking up dirt. He held bone attacks in his gloved hands, and he used them to deflect wave after wave of spear attacks. The barrage of attacks drove him backwards again, closer to you and his brother. Axe stepped between you and the sound of Undyne’s war cries.

Turning, he cupped your cheek in one large, bony hand. His eyelight drank you in as if to memorize every feature of your tear-streaked face. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “go,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours.

Then he was gone, teleporting to the entrance of the hallway to join Crooks with bone attacks flying. 

If you stayed, it would only distract him. He wanted you to go, to be safe. It took every bit of willpower in your body to walk away, to step through the Barrier without him, knowing that he never would’ve fought Undyne if it wasn’t for your meddling.

You waited.

And waited.

The seconds stretched out, each one lasting a thousand excruciating years.

You waited.

-

Axe curled up on the couch, full to bursting from a delicious dinner prepared by his brother. Yawning, he rested his skull in your lap, and you gently stroked his scapulae, smiling as he began to doze. He no longer feared nightmares. In fact, he rarely dreamed at all anymore. After all, what would be the point in dreaming?

Life on the Surface far surpassed anything that his subconscious could fabricate, and he already lived that dream every single day, with you.

INDEX

[free--therapy]

29 Intrusive Thoughts You're Not the Only One Having

To some degree, many people experience intrusive thoughts. They’re unwanted images or words that cross your mind, making you wonder, “Where did that come from?” But they exist on a spectrum. Maybe you imagine throwing the plate you’re holding against a wall. Maybe you quickly wonder what it would be like to jump off the bring you’re standing on. While some people are able to brush off these kinds of thoughts, others have a harder time letting them go. They become persistent, repetitive — and can affect the everyday quality of their lives.

For people with anxiety, this can sound like a loop of negative thoughts or worries. The panic when a friend is running late and you not only assume it must be because they got in a car accident, but can’t relax until you see your friend and know for sure it isn’t true.

For people with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), these thoughts can be even more graphic and persistent, leading to compulsions devised to get rid of them. Will my mother die today? Better brush my teeth three times to get the thought out of my head. Would I hurt a baby? Better jump every time I see a baby, just to be sure — just in case.

But it’s important to remember that thoughts are not facts or actions, and many people feel unnecessary shame and guilt over thoughts in their head they have no control over. Naming intrusive thoughts and taking away that shame can be the first step in learning how to manage them — instead of letting them control you.

That’s why we asked our mental health community to share some of the intrusive thoughts they live with. If you’ve had any of these thoughts stuck in your head, you’re not alone — and you certainly shouldn’t be ashamed.

Reminder: Some of the thoughts are hard to read, but people who have intrusive thoughts are not dangerous or likely to act upon them. If you have thoughts that disturb you, know there’s nothing wrong with you, and there is help.

Here’s what they shared with us:

1. “I always feel like everyone is looking at me and laughing no matter what it is. If someone is laughing it has to be at me. If people are taking it’s about me.”

2. “[I think] people do see me as a burden — that I’m not really liked much, and my friends just tolerate me because they feel sorry for me.”

3. “[I think] something truly awful is about to happen. I’ll see really graphic and violent scenes play out in front of me in my mind. I’ll walk into a room expecting to see a dead body, or pull the shower curtain back expecting to see someone hanging in there. It’s strange and frustrating. There never seems to be an obvious cause or trigger but it’s really upsetting.”

4. “I have random thoughts of hurting myself badly. Like, I’ll be chopping veggies with a big knife and my brain will go, ‘you could just put that through your hand.’ I never would, but it scares me that my brain chooses to acknowledge that I could. It always comes at the most random times too.”

5. “I’m not a violent person, but I used to get very violent, horrific intrusive thoughts which terrified me. It got to the point where I became phobic of knives and scissors. The phobia still lingers now, but it’s lessening.”

6. “Incest. I hate it and I’m so afraid of it that I would sometimes avoid being near family members.”

7. “’I don’t really love my significant other.’ (When really, he’s the most important person in the world to me).”

8. “My children would be better off with a better mom. My husband only stays because I’m free daycare. No one loves me and would be better if I just disappeared.”

9. “Murder. I’m afraid of losing control of myself or consciousness and while I’m out I’ll murder the person closest to me. I have dreams about the imagery. It’s a scary existence when you can’t get away from your own mind.”

10. “’Put your hand on the hot stove. Or in the hot oven. Staple your hand. Put your pinkie in the pencil sharpener. Stick a fork in the electric socket.’ I could go on forever.”

11. “I get thoughts/impulses like ‘pour the hot water on yourself’ when pouring the water from the kettle to make tea, or ‘put your hand in the flame.’ Usually when I’m feeling very pressured/anxious.”

12. “I see myself sitting on the window ledge ready to jump, or walking to the window to throw myself out, with a sudden urge to do it.”

13. “Horrible images of me hurting someone or me being sliced with a knife by someone. I could never physically hurt someone so those ones are very disturbing as I wonder if I’m an evil person who secretly wants to do those things.”

14. “I was sexually molested as a baby, so my brain decided that’s a great thing to keep throwing at me. I have three young nephews I love to death, but I’m often scared to be near them sometimes, even though I know I would never act on my thoughts because I find them so disturbing and would hate to inflict that kind of pain to my nephews, since I’ve had to live with the aftermath of that happening to me… I wouldn’t wish what happened to me on my worst enemy.”

15. “I have endless intrusive thoughts mostly due to OCD. The ones I have trouble with the most often have to do with contracting or being unaware I have a deadly disease. The ones that cause me more anxiety, but I think of less frequently, have to do with insects (if I think of them I can’t eat because I know they are inside my mouth instead of food) or extremely violent images that replay over and over again in graphic detail… like thinking of a fun outing the next day with a friend and imagining them being crushed or killed over and over again in a very specific way.”

16. “When my intrusive thoughts were really bad I would picture pulling the wheel and crashing or getting hit by a truck and burning my skin off with a lighter. Luckily I found something that helped me and those are no longer as present. Most recently they’ve presented in my dreams. I’ll have dreams that I randomly start bleeding from every hole in my body it’s pretty scary.”

17. “’I’m not good enough. I’m not thin enough. I am an evil person. My family would be better off without me.’”

18. “I get a voice telling me, ‘You should just kill yourself,’ except it’s my own voice? Kinda confusing, but it makes sense to me. It’s always more prominent when I’m having a stressful or down time, louder and more frequent. Sometimes it comes out of nowhere too. So frustrating.”

19. “I use to have repeat things in my head almost 24 hours a day. Things like who the prime minister is at the time… if I didn’t do it, I used to believe I wouldn’t know the answer and that would mean my belief of having a brain tumor would be true.”

20. “When I’m on the subway platform in New York City, I get the intrusive thought of ‘what if I jumped?’ It’s as subtle as any other thought. It makes me weary. I move back from the edge. I turn up my music. I pray for calm and peace. If I can, I avoid the subway.”

21. “‘Just drive your car into the guardrail. Hit it going 70 and maybe it’ll kill you.’ ‘Break up with him. He treats you too well, better end it before he does.’ ‘Your co-workers want you to quit. You fucked up and now they never want to see you again.’”

22. “I constantly get intrusive thoughts that I have done something morally wrong. I know I would never do those things, but the intense fear remains.”

23. “I always see things happening to my kids. Like scenes playing out in my head. That I’m dropping the baby over a railing. That my toddler runs behind the car in the driveway and the car backs over him. It makes me sick.”

24. “‘He doesn’t love you, nobody loves you, you don’t deserve happiness. It’s all going to crash around you. He’s going to leave. You do too much. He hates you. He’s using you.’”

25. “While driving, I often have the thought of driving into the oncoming lane and causing an accident. That one is scary for me.”

26. “Harming my children. Then I have all the self-loathing thoughts about what a bad mom I am for thinking that.”

27. “Since I was a kid I’ve gotten a mental image of a needle slowly piercing an eye. It’s a lot less troubling now.”

28. “’You are a failure and a burden to everyone around you.’”

29. “’I am the worst person in the world, I do everything wrong, I constantly hurt the people I love, maybe they would be better off without me.’ Before, this mixed with the idea that I am dangerous, that made things worse. Now I’ve almost gotten over that idea, but it comes back when the anxiety is really bad. When those thoughts get really bad, I isolate myself. It’s a fight, a very tough fight. But a fight I’m going to win.”

[cutegirlmayra]

Random AU Sonamy cause you know what?

Prompt:

It was time to go.

That other dimension… I didn’t figure I’d come back, but I couldn’t let my friends know that.

They each saw through me though, first with Tails and that Team Chaotix. Although Tails tried to send me off with as much hope as he could muster without shedding a tear, his entourage were wiping their tears without holding back or hiding. I respected them for it, but Tails even more, for how brave he wanted to be for me.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take of this…” I slowly raised my hand, expecting myself to say, ‘See ya around!’ but couldn’t muster it this time… instead, I just held it up… and let it flop down as though trying to act just as cool as my little dude.

I kicked the ground with a hop in my step as I moved back and raced off, heading to the next group, which were waiting to hold the portal for me when it opened.

“You’re a brave soul, Sonic… I’ve admired you for that.” Was probably the only directly nice thing Shadow ever said to me. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a swell guy! If you minus all the shady things he did in his ‘awakened’ life outside of Dr. Gerald Robotnik, but I could tell he was trying to be respectful too.

“Hey, it’s not that big of a sacrifice. Besides! With me gone, you’ll finally have a reason to show up!” I gave a goofy grin and put my hand to his shoulder, swaggering up with a wobble of my head and jerked upwards a thumbs-up from my hand.

He actually gave me a crooked smile for a moment… before dispersing off again with Rouge and Omega, looking disheartened.

Rouge looked like she wanted to say something, maybe ‘Be careful, Sonic’ but she didn’t quite get it out in time.

She stepped forward and put her hands to her chest, but as Shadow passed, looked down and decided not to say it. ...Probably for the best, I was getting sick of half-meanings. I wasn’t coming back, and the slim chance I could, I would be barely alive to tell the tale.

As she turned, something triggered in my mind. ‘Oh yeah… I’m forgetting someone.’ I felt myself getting reluctant. The person she reminded me of… the person that would definitely not be okay with any false hope, generalized chit-chat, and who wouldn’t hold her tongue back on how she felt about it.

Neither her tears… She would be the one to say, ‘Come back, Sonic.’ without a shred of regret.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and lifted my head up from that realization that I would have to face her… and convince her… of letting me leave…

For good this time.

“It’s not like you to look so gloomy, Sonic.” Knuckles… the only one who really wouldn’t put on a front that was fake.

I turned to him and flicked my nose, as we stood and faced each other, saying more with our stares into the other’s soul then any ‘not saying it’ goodbyes everyone else was trying to hold back.

He shakingly held up a hand, and seeing him about to lose himself, I took it immediately, giving him strength to help him rise up and stay strong.

He nodded, but couldn’t look back in my eyes… he was probably gonna cry somewhere off on Angel Island… and I… preferred it that way.

I gave a strong pull and tightened my grip on the embraced hands, giving him a strong look, and he finally smiled with a ‘tsk’, realizing I wasn’t gonna let him go till he could do it.

He returned the gesture and smirked, narrowing his eyes back into mine.

‘That’s it, buddy. Don’t falter the good fight.’ I thought to myself as we held that position for a moment, and finally… he let me go.

“Safe travels… but that would be an understatement.” He folded his arms, still smiling, before looking his head to the ground and concealing his smile… “Tails told me he wanted to say more to you… I would let him.”

“...Haa..!” I breathed out and arched my back towards the ground, not really wanting to face another hard goodbye so soon… but if it meant holding off from confronting Amy… I would do it. “Guess everyone’s taking my vacation kinda hard, huh?” I joked, but Knuckles just grabbed my head and started rough-housing his glove against my spiky quilled head.

“Get in a tan while you’re at it! You’re too pale skinned!” he gruffed.

I tried to push my head up but he kept it down, “H-hey! Knuckles!” but I did get a glance up… and let him keep my head down…

I could see water streaming down his muzzle like a cascading waterfall… guess I was bound to see it. No use keeping it all together and within.

With Knuckles and Tails… I embraced them, closing my eyes as Tails finally said what he really wanted to.

“I won’t forget you!” He cried out, gripping my back tightly. “I will be everything you believed me to be! I will protect the planet and things we love most, and I won’t let Eggman get away with this!”

‘Hang in there, buddy.’ I just lightly patted his back, about two or three, but was really starting to feel the toll now.

My eyes felt droopy, I was losing energy…

“You’re not gonna be alone! In that dimension, I’m sure you’ll meet others that look like us too! They’ll be there to support you, I’m sure of it!” Tails’s comforts only gave me a greater stone in my heart, but I knew he was only trying to help.

“Thanks, buddy. Take care of yourselves.” I pulled away but felt Tails resisting.

I paused as Knuckles saw I couldn’t show Tails my face… and took his arm.

“Come on, kid. He’s got a whole galaxy and then some to save.” Knuckles helped pulled Tails off and redirect his tears and anguish onto himself, having him coil up with his tails around Knuckles and start banging his chest.

“He doesn’t have to go alone! We could go with him!” he cried out, as I froze in my spot… tired. Too tired to even walk ahead… to be away from hearing it… to be away from my friends who were as close as family to my lonely self now… though I’d never admit it out loud.

“...Then who’d be here, Tails? Guarding the Master Emerald? Saving this world?” Come on, don’t give him--or me--that.” He patted his back strongly, “Stay strong, kid. We’ve gotta show him off with strength, it’s that strength he’ll need for the coming battle.”

“R-right…” Tails fought through his tears and turned around, “Sonic… We’re with you. You have our strength.” he held up his fists,... but I didn’t feel strength.

I felt so… weak.

I felt my body wanting to just submit but I wouldn’t let it.

I gave a sharp nod behind me, letting it linger, showing my friends nothing was going to phase me… and took off.

I couldn’t face Amy.

How could I?

I almost collapsed to my knees unable to move from everyone else!

However… my feet brought me to her home, and by now, it was pretty late at night.

She had no idea.

She didn’t know I was leaving, how long I’d be… how I needed her to move on.

A part of me hated to imagine that. But as I approached the home, the lights were out, and I felt a moment of relief.

‘Sleeping…’ my eyes lowered, as I tenderly and sorrowfully looked up to her window. ‘Quietly… peacefully… I shouldn’t disturb it.’

I felt so weary… tired of saying so many goodbyes without actually saying the stupid word.

I hated it.

The tears… the fear no one was admitting… the unknown was now looming over my fate, and at first I felt prepared… but now… I just wanted to get it over with.

‘Keep my friends safe first, then move on.’ I tightened my fist, finding a resolve. ‘I’ve gotta at least see her… Even if it is the last time…’

I felt power rising back to my bones, my muscles tensing and getting ready. I zoomed off to pick a flower, one I had always found to be Amy’s favorite--and well, might as well admit mine too--and took off to a tree branch right at her window.

I was off-balance, flailing a bit as I only had the tip of my shoe to steady myself on the ledge of her bedroom window, but putting the flower in my mouth I started to squeeze my fingers through the small crack under the plane.

It gave way, at last, not being locked.

I slowly rose it up after a few tugs and darted in, rolling on the ground with my quills as a cushion to make sure I landed swiftly but didn’t cause a stir.

Not much of a sound, besides the tumbling of my feet back to the ground.

I rose up and looked to my side…

Even in the night air, her quills swayed in blissful ignorance of the current situation. Her soft breaths lured me in and back, as my feet began to softly tread forward towards her.

I passed her nightstand, with a picture of us holding up peace-signs and hearts with our fingers and thumbs, just something goofy we did at some park or whatever.

Near it, a vase of the flowers I usually brought her. Some were wilted, yikes. I had kinda hoped I would visit at least enough times so she could switch them out frequently enough to not keep the dead ones.

I flinched at that imagery and thought… she kept the dead ones… when I didn’t replace them fast enough… and visit her often.

I took the flower out of my mouth and gently was about to place it on her nightstand… but stopped.

Time froze then, as my eyes darted up.

I won’t accept this.

I pulled back the flower to me and squinted my eyes, turning away from the picture and bent flowers, balding as their petals lay around the vase’s bottom…

I was getting irritated. Amy was the last, I had to do more than this. It wouldn’t be fair… no matter how much I dread it… I can’t just leave her without her final words…

I lightly pressed the freshly picked flower up to my muzzle… taking in it’s scent and thinking how I was going to do this… efficiently… without her suspecting this was my final farewell…

To lose her… to knowly have her lose me…

How to word this… how to even plan this?

All of that faded when I took another glance at her.

My serious expression was replaced with silent admiring.

She was so loyal. Any man would be crazy not to see her fidelity.

...She’d move on without me…

Find someone to love, Amy? I couldn’t say that, it almost made me gag to think about it. Plus, I’d think about it in hindsight once I’m floating in the nethersphere and realize that was too boldly assuming Amy could find anyone besides her miraculous gift at always locating me.

Be loved, Amy? As if no one does, that’s just cruel. She’s constantly surrounded by people and friends that adore her. No… No, I couldn’t say that.

She’d stir and think something was wrong with either of those lines…

I tapped the flower against my muzzle, further watching her quills sway gently in the blowing breeze, as though comforting her from the heat of the moment she was so innocently unaware of.

‘Alright,’ I finally said, having taken long enough time to figure this out. I hadn’t thought about any of my goodbyes this long because the people were already awake and holding up fronts. No fronts here… Just Amy. Sleeping. Waiting patiently for me to come by and replace a dozen of her dying roses…

Man, this was hard.

I leaned my head back and felt myself wincing at the idea I had come up with. Fool her into thinking she was dreaming? It could work, since Amy often daydreams and would go, ‘Is this a dream?’ quite frequently.

Yeah… That outta do it.

I sighed, this would still be faking it unless…

I twirled the stim of the flower between my two finger tips…

Unless I put the front down.

I looked away… I knew what I was talking about, duh.

But… that would be hard. I’m normally really shy about expressing my feelings, especially when it comes to receiving admiration or… Well, or this.

I lightly kissed the flower for good luck, winked to try and get myself into a romantic mood, but also took a long breath in and harshly let it out in a bit of stubbornness to prepare myself for speaking with my heart over my image…

Her hero… deserves to send himself off after wishing her goodnight.

I moved to her bedside and decided it was best to bend to one knee, at least, she may find it endearing.

Lightly, I teased her awake gently by brushing the rose over her eye, twiddling it before lightly stroking her face like it was a paint brush.

She gave little, soft groans of discomfort, tenderly waking up as I smiled in eagerness to see her again.

I didn’t want to think this was the last time, nor play it out like that.

I wanted, at least this one, to be genuine but disguised as a wishful, whimsical dream she was having. I could… send myself off knowing she was happy.

That was the way I wanted it to be. An ideal.

Amy crying in my arms and me having to hold her till it was time to go was too painful to even bare a thought of!

I didn’t want to waste my time trying to comfort when this wasn’t something that anyone could be comforted on!

Strength… Knuckles spoke of strength?

I tsked, I didn’t want to leave Amy with ‘strength’ or take anyone else’s strength when they needed all the help they could get!

They already mustered everything together to see me off, I wouldn’t bare it again, I would never let Amy bare that either…

Maybe she’d hate me when she fully came too, realized what had happened, and sob for centuries…

I felt something stab at my throat, and I forced myself to swallow after a few failed attempts.

‘Don’t cry, Amy… I want to make that very clear.’ I thought I could do this, but seeing her blink her eyes open made me realize how I really just wanted to flee from this whole ordeal.

I didn’t want to break Amy’s heart. Even knowing she’d cry later was just as equally tormenting than having her do so in front of me now.

I wouldn’t break her heart… but I probably should. I wouldn’t dwell too much on it. Amy’s a big girl now, she’ll have to come around and realize that I’m not coming back-

I couldn’t finish my thoughts as she rubbed her eyes and yawned, looking over to me.

“...Emm… Sonic?”

Now was my last chance… to tell her everything or… at least, not put up the charades anymore.

“Heya.” I whispered, finding a smile I didn’t realize I still had. “Long time no see.”

She looked a bit confused, maybe still half-way through dreamland, but relaxed back and took my hand holding the flower, “Flowers~” she giggled, and suddenly my entire night was made.

“Yeah, just for you.” I played, dangling the flower above her head and watched her drowsily paw at it like a cat would a string. She scrunched her nose up, still snickering as though trying to laugh but her lungs hadn’t woken up that far yet.

“I like it.” she yawned again, and her batting reach grew lesser and lesser until I handed her the flower. “I missed you.” her grip on my hand was so light… I didn’t realize how the touch would send me into such immediate, gripping grief.

My heart was being choked, man, I’m so dramatic! I never knew I could feel this intensely about something like saying goodbye to everyone!

It wasn’t goodbye… If I told myself that, I could do it!

“I-” I felt my voice get constrained and had to take a moment to wipe my own face and get a grip. ‘Keep it together, Sonic… or she’ll know.’ I pep-talked myself and shook my head, “I thought you would.”

“Hehe… You’re still funny.” she let her sluggish finger poke and slide around my face, making me watch her with a puzzled but funny look that continued to keep her laughing.

“Am I still in a dream?”

That… made me so happy.

“Well, depends.” I stated, getting comfortable as I moved from my knee to squatting by her side, inching closer and pulling my hands back to give my heavy head some leverage… more than what I could do for my heart at this point. “What was going on in your dream?”

“Hmm…” she thought a second, almost closing her eyes and drifting back to sleep.

Maybe that was for the best… but…

I kinda didn’t want it to end.

“Amy..?” I lightly called out to her as her eyes twitched slightly and she graced me again with their vision… green… darker than mine, but emerald like the sea below Angel Island… highlighted by it’s chaotic glow.

“We were… having a picnic… in Spagonia, maybe?” she rubbed her eyes, still having the other hand holding mine.

“Ah, I remember that!” I instantly found myself looking up, and my spirits soar. “You were so obsessed with the architecture! You barely ate, you had so much to say about how beautiful it all was.”

“Well, it was..!” she lazily commented, her eyes trying to fight the sleep. I didn’t feel bad about keeping her somewhat awake though… I realized… I needed this. I needed this too.

“Amy… You were beautiful there too.” My words I had never uttered allowed, now made me think back and remember all the times I’ve thought it, but wouldn’t dare speak it out loud. “But you know that, don’t you?” I smiled even wider, seeing her pause a second as though falling back to sleep or in disbelief.

“This is a dream!” she exclaimed and started laughing as though evilly, “Then come to bed. I need a good cuddle…”

I looked away and had to hide my snickering, I never knew Amy could be scandalous! ...scratch that, I never knew she would DREAM of something so ridiculous!

“How about just your hand?” I cradled it with both mine, seeing her fiddle with the flower and press it right up to her nose. I worried it’s strong scent would wake her up… but it didn’t. I tossed her dead-weighted hand around and toyed with her a moment, before lowering my head to it, and letting her own scent trail its way into my memory and feel her warmth from the bed’s covers override my own heated anxiety.

“Amy… I-” I felt my eyes growing sleepy too… All the times I could have just teased her by climbing over the covers and laying beside her… how I wanted that more than ever, to just… take a nap and let each other hold the other… No images, no expectations… just.... Tired. “I missed you too.”

“Hmm?” she was waking up more, I needed to make this quick.

“Heh,” In the moments I had had with her… this was bound to be the best, though bittersweet, of my favorites. “I’m gonna miss you… but I need you to go back to sleep now, finish that wonderful dream of yours… and never stop having it.” I couldn’t tell her to move on. Gosh dang it, I couldn’t!

I was holding her hand, I was letting it rest right up against my face and I- … I-!!!

I was getting to invested in this goodbye.

I speedily let go of her hand and got up, startling her awake.

“H-huh?”

I gripped my fists tightly, “This was a mistake.” I looked away, “I can’t stay here… I can’t say these things anymore.”

“Sonic..?”

“I have to go away now, Amy.” I couldn’t be sweet to her, I’d ruin her!

“What… why?” she started to turn on the bed, “Is this… real?”

A real nightmare. I was gonna die. I knew it. Even if I lived, I would be stuck in another dimension with no way out.

Tails… Even if there was another Tails, Knuckles, and-... And Amy! I would owe it to her but..! But..!

“If I find you again… I won’t hold back anymore, alright?” I didn’t want to make a promise.

“What..? N-no…” She started to sit up on her bed, and I rushed to put the covers back over her, hoping to convince her to go back to bed.

“No other will do… that’s wrong, isn’t it?” I had seen people who looked like my friends in other dimensions… it was foolish of me to think that would suffice. Amy… if she knew what I was saying, she’d probably stomp the ground and cry out that it wouldn’t be fair, that none of those other girls were still her… it would be too cruel. I’ve messed up. I’ve gotta go-!

I felt her suddenly grapple me and turn me onto the bed.

“A-Amy!” I was absolutely startled, I didn’t expect her to be so strong while she was still getting up.

“I’m cold.” she lied, holding me down and tightly. “Don’t go.”

“Amy, I can’t do this. I can’t do this anymore..!” I tried to fight it, but she was absolutely strong, and I even questioned if she was faking being asleep.

But I waved my hand over her eyes and watched as they closed and she was slowly falling back to sleep.

“You make this so challenging.” I huffed, but smiled and chuckled at how even in her sleep, she was a rascal. “I can’t stay…” I lightly put my hand to the side of her face, which she leaned into, and tried to move her head to my chest. “But trust me,... if there is a way… I won’t fail you twice.” I cupped her adorably sleepy but scarily strong head in my hands as she tried to resist it a bit, but was able to move and lower her back to her pillow. Slyly figuring out a way to not disturb her, I pushed the other pillow to have her hold it, and made my way out of her grasp. “Phew…”

Memories of Amy’s antics swarmed me… then Tails… then Knuckles… then everyone…

I ended up falling to my butt and spending a good minute trying to conceal my tears without a sound.

She fell asleep… thank goodness.

I got up and picked up the flower that was slightly crushed from under her back, and placed it back on the counter. I took two petals that had fallen and placed one in her hand… then the other I tucked under my glove and held in the space between my bare palm and glove.

“Don’t wait for me anymore.” I tugged the bottom of my glove down, making sure the petal wouldn’t accidentally fall out and that it was secure. I gave one final, good look over to her…

“...But dream of me… always…”

-A New Day-

I woke up immediately when I groggily read the text from Tails that Sonic was badly injured, but somehow, used the last of the Chaos Energy inside his body to locate the Master Emerald across dimensions, and jumped!

“Jumped!? W-woah-woah!” I fell out of my bed and crashed hard on my chin, but adjusting to the pain, I kept scrolling through the updates.

He was Chaos Controlled directly from the Master Emerald with the help of a confused Knuckles who reacted at once and used his own influence over the Master Emerald to channel it’s power to wherever Sonic was reaching from.

He apparently came back, half-alive…

My eyes shook in terror, “Oh, Sonic!” I felt my heart leap out of my chest as I quickly wrote back as I spoke the words aloud. “Where is he!? I’ll house him. Tell Vanilla and Cream to bring everything to my house! Food, medicine, the works! We won’t lose him again!”

My eyes were still red from countless, sleepless nights of waiting for him to come through my window and surprise me again. I really had thought I imagined it… but I woke up with a petal from a new flower in my hand, and looked to see the one from my hallucinations that night on my nightstand.

When the others told me what he had done, I bashed the trees down and ranted with a mighty thunder in my step and tone how they should have believed in him more, should have given him hope, and the strength he needed wasn’t their undying love for him but their support in that he could do the impossible!

I kept telling myself, ‘Of course, he’ll come back!’ but my anger was from knowing that when he was trying to take my hand and say goodbye… he couldn’t.

He needed me! Oh, how my Sonic needed me to pull him in and shout out to the universe that he was going to be alright, that he was going to return, and that none of this was necessary!

I should have woken up and seen more clearly! I should have… I was the only one who could have contested their naysaying and cheered him up. I would have… I would have gotten so many words out that would be completely incoherent due to my rushing tears…

They brought him to me right away, and I was upset I couldn’t reach them in time to have helped moved him, but they insisted I stay put.

When I saw him… on a white gurney and barely able to stay awake… looking rough and completely done for… I felt my whole being cry out that he would make it… but my whole being slid down the door’s frame at just seeing him look so badly… so drained of life... 

He was out for days… but he had been gone for so long…

I was replacing his bandages, starting with the cooling rag, I was just gonna wipe him down from the sweat. I put him in my own bed and was sleeping by the side of the bed with my head to his side at night… sleeping in my chair, nursing him back to health.

He didn’t make much noise expect for awful twitches that would make me think he was dying… it scared me so much… but I held his hand as he would groan in his sleep, as though trying to move and wake up … but couldn’t.

Couldn’t… shouldn’t… wouldn’t… 

Could, would, should…

These words were infuriating me lately.

I dipped the cool rag into the water on my nightstand, which I had used to replace the vase with flowers, but kept the last flower in a see-through box, letting it sit on my windowsill as I waited through endless nights for him…

My eyes must have made me look like a raccoon rather than a hedgehog by now… but as I wiped them and patted his darling, but hurt face… I finally saw him breath out and roll his head towards my touch.

My eyes widened, was this his last breath or first real moments of consciousness?

“S-…” I felt my voice break against a dam of emotions. “Sonic?” Then flood my mouth, “Sonic!?” the sound vibrated to every cell, sparking me to life as I jolted up and hung over him. “Sonic, can you hear me!?”

His eyes were blurred, but he opened them, looking around as though unable to see me.

“Sonic! Sonic, you’re alive! You’re here!” I said that to assure him of him, not for myself.

I embraced him with restrained joy, trying to not hurt him further, as I heard him cough and try and reach his hand up.

I immediately pulled back and helped him up, hearing him hiss at the pain but fighting it.

“S-sorry! I’ll let you rest more-” I was gonna lower him back down but he put a hand out to my shoulder, as though telling me not too.

He adjusted himself to leaning back and I put pillows in his way to give him some comfort as he was somewhat up now.

“How are you feeling? You okay?” That was stupid to ask, but I was so worried… one peep, one little, measly sound would drown out all this panicking… anything!

He coughed again, and looked around.

Seeing where he was, his eyes widened and he looked back to me, as though stunned.

“You’re home… Sonic, you’re…” I covered my mouth, bursting into tears and dropping to my knees, holding myself up with my other hand gripping the bed.

I turned my hand around to show him the palm of my hand, tucked into my gold bracelet was his petal he had left in my hand, ripped and torn, crinkled and decaying… I never let it go.

He smiled and let out a puff of relief and--what I assume to be--joy as he scratched weakly at his own glove.

“Y-you want it off..?” I was speaking through tears, and blinked several times to see what I was doing, and wiping my tears away before lifting his glove up and seeing…

Not even tarnished. It was as though the petal in the palm of his hand was eternal, as though the dimension was only a blink in time, but it was still a vibrant rosy color, pinkish hue, but leaning more towards the red.

I dipped my head to his hand and just cried, kissing the palm and the petal as I knew what it meant.

“I missed you too.” I finally broke my voice and wailed in my tears.

I knew he hated goodbyes and crying…

But I knew how much he loved ‘hellos’.

(resisted Italics this time lol  Better with or without them? -meaning both Bold, Underlined, etc.-)

(ALSO! I remembered I was gonna do kissing but I was so wrapped and enthralled in the drama that I forgot o-o; Eh, makes it more in-character XD)

[thekrazykeke]

See You Again [2]

Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul

Relationship(s): Uta & reader.

Summary: in the sound of silence, we found sanctuary. in every word unspoken, love.

Warning(s): Angst, unspoken feelings. Pre-canon events but also very ambiguous timeline-wise. Disturbing mental imagery. Canon typical gore.

This little series was never meant to have a happy ending, so no screaming at me. I’ll accept your appreciation for my love of angst in reblogs, likes, comments or tears. 

Seriously though, in all honesty, I hurt myself as I wrote this. 

I dunno, I might indulge that impulsive urge of mine and write a one shot where they actually get together. Most likely not though, so no one hold their breath ahahaha.

[i.]

~

A smart person would never have returned to the little out of the way mask shop in the 4th Ward. You’d have chalked up the experience as weird and as common sense dictated, forgotten all about it. 

That is the safer route, the sane option.

So of course, you decided to be stupid. You kept coming back to the shop, although you were careful with how you planned your visits, spacing them out in between sight seeing and being a general tourist. 

The added bonus of your frequent visits being that although Uta’s face didn’t really change much expression-wise, you got the feeling that he was always a little surprised to see you.

“Do you really like it here that much?” 

Pulling the oni mask away from your face, you glanced at Uta who stood a good distance away from you, hand in pocket, hip cocked against the edge of the counter. “What’s that now?”

“I said, ‘do you really like it here that much?’” Uta repeated himself, red on black eyes intently trained on your face. “This is the second time this week you’ve come by without buying anything.”

“Oof.” You exaggeratedly clutched at your chest. “That hurt, Uta-san. With how frequently I come by here, one would think you’d treat me as more than a customer. We’re friends now.”

“We’re not.”

The words are stated so bluntly and again, you clutch at your chest, miming being struck by an arrow. Uta didn’t respond to your joking around and playing, just stared at you. So, you cut the crap, reaching into your back pocket with a mock pout. “How much for this mask? I think it suits me.”

“10504.50 yen.” At the sight of your suddenly wide eyes and dropped jaw, Uta’s blank expression cracked, he smiled slightly and just for a split second. “Also, the mask doesn’t suit you.”

You turned your back to him, carefully returning the oni mask to the display it’d been set up on. The next second you turned around, you nearly jumped out of your skin at how close Uta is now. “Hey now! Shit, you need a bell or something.”

“It’s not my fault you don’t pay attention.” 

You can’t even pull off your comedic routine and drop your head in an ‘ashamed’ manner because you’d probably most likely hit your head against his chest, he’s standing that close. Before you could ask him to either back up and inquire what was his reason for being in your personal space, a tattooed finger reached out, lightly touching your chin, encouraging you to look up, so that’s what you did.

“...I can create a mask for you. Something that suits you.” He’s now adjusting your face, the faintest touch causing you to move this way and that. 

“Aww! That’s nice of you, Uta-sa-”

“The base color would be silver, perhaps. And the eyes would sewn shut, the better to hide your grief and... the anger.” He’s musing aloud, words quiet and almost a whisper, but you heard him. Part of you think it’s deliberate, that he’s making fun of you, mocking you.

And it worked. 

You reached a hand up, setting it upon his wrist. Uta blinked, staring down at your hand, then his unique gaze switched to you, and he.... for a lack of better words, it’s like he snapped out of that artist’s mode. He dropped his hand and took one step out of your personal bubble then another and another before whirling around and started walking away. 

He lifted a hand in farewell, waving it about in a sort of shooing manner.

“Come back again in two to three weeks.”

That should have been the end of you and his interactions. 

Regardless of how intriguing he is, he’d pressed on one of your triggers, maybe even on purpose, and you already had too short of a life to put up with the bullshit. Then again, maybe it was for that reason entirely that you decided that you were gonna keep seeing him, even after he finished the mask, to annoy him to death of course.

Until he told you upfront to go away, you wouldn’t. That’s what you decided.

And with that resolution settled in your head, you could go about your business. You enjoyed the sights, the food, and although your judgement said it’d be a bad idea, you had a couple of one night stands. The first is a lawyer that you’re like pretty sure has kids and a wife, and the other is a stressed college kid. 

The experience left you unsatisfied and irritated. 

Since your last encounter with Uta had been...awkward and strained, you decided to bring a peace offering. Cream puffs for yourself with green tea and a cup of black coffee for him. You’d picked up on the fact that he liked the beverage without sugar and cream like the total heathen he is. You idly wondered if he even enjoyed sweet things or maybe he was one of those weird folks who liked sour and spicy stuff all the time.

The fact that you’re even thinking about this and it didn’t sink in as odd or out of place until the moment you crossed the threshold of HYSY Studios, taking note of the fact that the place is as gloomy and empty of customers as always. 

“’Ey! Uta, where you at!?” 

There’s a vibration against your leg. You juggle the items in your hold carefully before tugging out your cellphone and entering the passcode to unlock the phone. The most recent text message you’d received from Uta about four minutes ago informed you of the fact that he’s in the back of the studio, like the very, very back, where all the unused and returned masks were. Now the only reason you knew all this information is because of how often you pestered Uta about it. 

You’re at an impasse. 

You could do as he asked and bring your treat to him while you were at it or you could wait and avoid the potential jump scare that Uta was totally capable of inflicting upon you. 

‘To go or not to go, that is the question.’ 

Everything pointed to the clear conclusion that no, you absolutely should not go back there. Every horror movie cliché ended with the female protagonist being killed or gravely injured because she was so stupid as to go in the dark, alone, by herself. 

‘Uta isn’t a killer though.’ That’s what you tried to tell yourself, the argument weak and pitiful in your brain. 

You did not know this man well enough to be in the back where it wouldn’t be easy access to the front door, where you couldn’t bolt if he did something strange. However, you did own a mini taser and always carried mace, just as a precaution, so... 

So....

Slowly, reluctantly, you did as he instructed, every warning and life training you’d received up to this point in your life sending out red neon signs telling you to wait, not be an idiot, to please please stay where you are. And you ignored all those survival instincts, heading deeper into the studio, your footfalls loud and eerie the further in you went. 

Until you find him. 

He’s apparently unfazed by your belated presence, focus wholly consumed with his work. Red on black eyes glanced at you for but a moment and what you carried and then at the coffee. “There’s a mini fridge, leave everything there, except the coffee. I’m almost done.” 

Having some mild experience with artists and creative sorts, you avoid looking at the mask he’s working on, instead setting down the coffee in an empty space he vaguely gestured to. 

Then you walk the short distance to where the only mini fridge in the room is, reaching out, you pull it open. And it’s the scent that alerts you; the fresh tang of blood. It’s too late to stop yourself and you see it, everything. The jar of eyeballs, the carefully wrapped packages of ‘meat’. 

‘I’m in a back room with the potential copycat Jeffery Dahmer or...or....’ 

You’re not an idiot, all these little things you’d casually dismissed because you hadn’t cared enough to pay attention, to see... And now here you are. Here you are. 

Fuck.

Swallowing, you calm and dampen the inner voice sCREAMING, then casually as possible, grip wobbling only slightly, do you put your treat inside the mini fridge right alongside the human body parts and flesh, then close the door, turning around. 

Uta is still hard at work on the mask but his movements are slowing down.

As if nothing is amiss, you stride over just as he finally pauses to take a sip of coffee. “This is one of the ways that you make masks. Really. That’s interesting…” And you meant it too. Legs crossed, you leaned against the table, watching the mask maker in his element.

He smiles at you in that enigmatic way. “Thank you.” 

The visit continues without much else in the way of incidents and subtly unsubtle revelations. 

You don’t really talk and Uta doesn’t make you. 

Less than twenty minutes later, once he deems the mask complete, he stands up and stretches, arms raising overhead, revealing an expanse of creamy, pale, lean and muscled torso. 

Glancing away a beat too late, you catch Uta as he smiles, again, the smile lengthens into a smirk. He reaches out and plucks up the half mask delicately, taking a step towards you and your heart traitorously lurches in your chest. 

Self-preservation makes you want to run as he comes closer, closer, closer...

Logic keeps you rooted in place as he carefully puts the mask on you. Tattooed fingers brush the strands of hair away from the nape of your neck, lingering as he feels the flutter of your pulse beneath his fingertips. 

“Your heart is racing like a hummingbird.” he muses. You stare out at him from beneath the safety of the mask, the bone surprisingly not pinching or cutting your skin. “And here I thought nothing could scare you.”

“Unfortunately fear makes up the majority of the human psyche.” You can’t help the quip, tone dry. “But you’re my friend, so it’s fine.” 

That last comment causes Uta to blink and stare at you in blatant surprise for a minute or two. Then he pulls himself together and shakes his head, a chuckle rumbling through his chest. “...I suppose we are friends.”

“Cool. So how much for the mask?” You reach up, about to remove it but Uta swatted at your hands, the action hard enough to sting but not leave damage. You still squawk indignantly anyway.

“It’s free. Creating it got me out of my block, so thank you.” Bringing out a cellphone, he takes a couple pictures with you, making you turn, pose, and pretty much just show off. 

Once he’s done, he snags your tea and cream puffs out the fridge, then walks you to the front of the studio, giving a small wave goodbye. Brain swimming with what you just learned, amazed that he hadn’t just killed you straight off, you glance at the chilled green tea in your hand then after mentally shrugging to yourself, you take a sip and shove a cream puff in your mouth. 

Hell, after the day you’ve had, you deserve to be rewarded.

Time passes, as it inevitably does. 

You receive more calls from Kiani, from other friends and family members, but you are resolute in staying in Japan. 

Much to your surprise, you’d actually gotten comfortable being there. Though that might have had something to do with Uta, who you continue to visit, and if he’s surprised or put out, none of that shows on his face. It’s fun to drag him places, to be around him, and you can laugh at his jokes, even the deadpan, making-fun-of-humanity ones. 

He even lets you meet his other ghoul friends, Itori and Renji. 

Through it all, these changes and fun things, your health slowly, steadily, gets worse even as you and Uta get closer, muddling about in a rather confusing grey area of friends...and more...

As always, the two of you are hanging out, this time you’d dragged him to an amusement park, and he held onto some of the prizes you won, gamely snapped a couple photos of you in ridiculous poses and making silly faces, etc. 

It felt like a date.

Like, you’re returning from a date.

When that thought ran through your brain, you automatically looked at Uta, catching sight of his profile in the light of the setting sun and your heart clenched as you realized that he’s beautiful. 

It’s with difficulty that you manage to look away but not before he catches you staring from the corner of his eye. “You’re always looking at me… Yet, you never try and get closer…” Uta’s hands are in his pockets and he is barely a foot away. “Does fear keep you at a distance…” He took a step forward. 

Coming almost uncomfortably close. 

“Or is there another….” 

Without conscious thought, you tilt your head up and your lips meet his. 

The contact is light, barely a graze, and there’s the cool sensation of his lip ring...it’s odd but hardly distracting. Your heart is beating like a jack rabbit in your chest and you know this isn’t good for you.

 As you go to pull away, to disconnect, that’s when Uta finally, finally, responds.

He places a hand on the back of your neck, keeping you close before tilting his head, leaned in and kissed you again. 

There’s nothing teasing or patient about it. He nipped your bottom lip, barely waiting for you to part your lips before his tongue twined and stroked, expertly playing with your own, and you felt a zing of excitement travel down you spine as your tongue lightly grazed his tongue ring. 

Your right hand goes to his shoulder, squeezing, holding on desperately as your legs threaten to give out. 

Effortlessly, Uta holds you up, his other hand going to the dip of your back, and when you break the kiss to get some air into your burning lungs, Uta peppers feather light kisses down the column of your throat, sucking a spot just behind your ear. Only when you gasp his name, a mere whisper of a breath really, only then, does he finally stop.

Uta tops that....bombardment off with a light kiss to your forehead, lingering. Then he murmurs into your ear, “That’s how you kiss me from now on.” 

With his piece said, as if he hadn’t pretty much swept you off your feet and left you stuck in LaLa Land, Uta brushed a hand down his shirt, straightening out imaginary wrinkles, before he walked away. It took a few seconds for your brain to reboot and then you hurried after him, chastising him for being mean.

There are a hundred different words that lingered on the edge and never escape your mouth. A thousand questions you never got the answer to. 

There are no more kisses between you and Uta. 

You pass away in your sleep that night December 31, 2XXX at 11:59 P.M. alone in your rented hotel room, dreaming of an impossible reality; of happiness between yourself and the ghoul who for a brief moment, made you feel important, seen, and desired. 

Almost as if he could love you.