#im lying there’d be comfort too

[marcobodtlives]

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

hi!^^ im kind of new here in tumblr and I'm still learning how to use this app, i hope this is the correct way of requesting :))

um can i please request a Fuegoleon domestic fic with his pregnant wife or s/o, cuddling with him and taking care of the pregnant s/o ( im not sure if ure taking requests but feel free to ignore if ure not!! thank u!!<33

Helloo~!

Apologies for taking my sweet time with this ^^; But I got a bit carried away and made a few headcanons in the beginning, based on which I wrote your fic. And honestly, this was so cute! It was a pleasure to write ^_^ I do hope that you like it!

Pairing: Fuegoleon Vermillion x f!reader

Genre: fluff

Fic type: HCs + drabble

Fuegoleon is the type to plan having kids, and it’s not something that he starts thinking right out of the blue. It’s something that has been in the back of his mind for years on end. As in, he has seen practices and things that he knows he wants to implement into his life once he has children. He’s making a little (long) mental list of parenting advice, and other pieces of information that he sees beneficial.

So, once it’s confirmed that you are indeed pregnant, he’s well prepared in terms of knowledge. And in addition, he’s so excited. You’d see his eyes light up, and his lips tug up so wide, as wide as possible.

He’d give you a warm hug right away, but would be mindful about not squeezing too tight. Because he doesn’t want to do anything to compromise the baby’s health.

Also, you’d be in store for a flurry of information being poured down to you. Which you could take as him speaking more to himself than to you.

But there’d be a lot of comfort on having him by your side, because there’d always be at least 4 different solutions to any problem you might have. And whatever would come your way, you’d survive anything that came your way.

When the baby bump becomes visible, he’s constantly there, by your side, wanting to feel the baby kicking. And at nights he’s pressing his head to your tummy to listen, if he could hear the baby’s heartbeat while cooing to them softly.

He might (will) get a kick in the face a few times, but he doesn’t mind it. Instead, he’d conclude that the baby is strong and healthy. Essentially, the more the kick hurts, the stronger the baby is becoming.

Of course, you’d give loving scolding to your unborn child, but he’d simply chuckle to the action.

And, even if he gets hot easily, while cuddling with you, he’d cuddle you a lot throughout the entire pregnancy. It comes with the cooing, petting your tummy, and listening to the baby’s heartbeat.

A small scenario to go with the headcanons:

You were lying in bed, under the soft covers, sinking into the mattress under you; feeling like you were floating on a cloud. Which was a welcomed change to feeling heavy from walking around, feeling your feet trying to sink into the floor, but being unable to do so. Instead, you were left dragging your feet, as if blocks of lead.

But, right there and then, you were light. You were wrapped in cotton, cradled in warmth, as you laid there, with your eyes closed. You took a deep breath, and let your head sink into the pillow as you concentrated on the movements of the baby inside of you.

There was a small nudge to you, which made your lips tug up into a smile. It was as if they were greeting you, giving you a “hey mom”. They were already trying to get to know you, and you could barely contain the excitement of meeting your child for the first time.

Quite frankly, the idea of holding them in your arms for the first time made butterflies swirl in your stomach, planting kisses onto the child, even if there was a flutter of nervousness tangling together with the anticipation. All the questions that bubbled to surface made a tension form into your chest, starting from pondering if you’d be a good mother. What if they didn’t like you after all? You hadn’t properly met yet, so there was no way of telling if they’d like you. So… what if they… hated you..? What if they-

“Hey…” spoke a low, calm tone of voice that flowed through the air, as if an embrace that collected all your racing thoughts, quieting them down. And the voice you recognized to be that of your husband’s, that of Fuegoleon. “How are you?” He asked as the bed shifted under you as he sat down onto the edge of the bed, stroking your hair with his fingers.

His flames caressed you, as if looking to envelope you into their loving embrace. And yet, it felt like warm water running over you, soft and pleasant, one that washed away the uneasy tension that had tried to build a nest in your chest.

“Well…” you hesitated, wondering if you should speak out your apprehensions. Suddenly they just felt so ridiculous. Asking yourself if your unborn child would hate you. It felt silly. Of course, every parent, or most parents… some other parents must have wondered about the exact same thing, and … it was a just worry. Of course, you wanted to be loved by your own child. Of course you did. But, the idea of speaking that worry out… it felt silly.

His smile gathered a veil of melancholy as he kicked off his shoes and climbed into the bed with you, pushing the covers to the side as he did so. The cool air tried to take a hold of you, but as he wrapped the covers over you both, before pulling you into his embrace, all of it was pushed aside. All of it was pushed aside, by his loving embrace.

He pressed your head against his chest allowing you to listen to his heartbeat. It was strong, and sturdy, just like he was.

“I love you so much,” he spoke, his words dripping onto you like honey. “Both of you,” he continued as his hand made its way onto your tummy, caressing it. “My flame and my blaze…” he continued, his hold of you tightening as he whispered the words, the nicknames out. “You’ll be a wonderful mother…” he continued before placing a tender kiss onto your forehead.

Your lips tugged into a smile as tears of joy started collecting behind your eyes. “And you’ll be a wonderful father,” you whispered back.

“I sure hope so,” he smiled to you while running his palm up and down your tummy slowly, adoringly.

There was a kick, directed at his hand, smacking it off of your tummy.

“Hey!” You scolded at your stomach. “Don’t kick dad like that…”

He let out a faint chuckle, while pulling you closer. “I think they’re just jealous… They want you all to themselves. And suppose that I can’t blame them,” he smirked before placing another kiss onto your temple.

And with that kiss, embrace, the gentle swaying of the life inside of you, you felt all your worries and uncertainties melting away. Surely your child would love you. They were already loving you, wanting you to be there, all to themselves. So, perhaps your worry would be introducing Fuego, their father, to them. But. You were certain that they’d grow to love their father as well. Surely, they would. Because their father was a good person. And he loved you both with all that he was.

[mirclealignr]

The marauders being friends with the reader who’s bullied but doesn’t tell them would include...

(that was a phat ass title)

request? yes ~ Hi beautiful!! If you’re comfortable, could I please request how the marauders react when they find out the reader is being bullied and didn’t tell them? 💕 you are amazing. Ilysm!

Warnings: bullying.

James Potter

Damn boo, he’d be pissed

at whoever bullied you and low-key at you too

he’d always want to protect you and he’d be upset that he wasn’t able to do that

and he’d be more upset because you’re so upset

and now that he knows why you are and why you have been

it’d be even more upsetting

safe to say he might be upset?

and he wants to do know who dared to make you feel this way

and why and for how long

he only found out because he saw some guys picking on you and you running off

he’d follow you so fast

after making a mental note of who they were so he could kick some butt later

and then you’d tell him, that it wasn’t a one time thing

ugh he’d be so disappointed that people could be so cruel to someone like you

someone so gentle and pure

GAH! it would burn him

because you least of all people deserved such hatred

he’d be in detention for like a week after what he did to them people in question

but aside form the time he spent there, he’d be with you the rest of the time

making sure you were smiling

making sure you were laughing

he loved that laugh

he hated himself that he hadn’t noticed

was he a bad friend?

well, if he had been he was going to make up for it

because you deserved the very best

and he’d try his hardest to give that to you

Remus Lupin

Omg, so he’d probably find you crying in a stairwell

and he’d just run up to you and wrap you in a huge, rib-crushing hug

and he’d pull you into him, rubbing your back

he’d ask you what happened and you’d try to lie

but Remus knows. He knows when you’re lying

so he’d get you to tell him what was really happening

he’d kinda..stop

freeze

Merlin, he’d be raging.

Like how could anyone do that to someone?!?

HoW cOuLd ThEy Do It To YoU?!????!?

pwarrr he’d go straight for them, after he walked you back to the common room

and gave you chocolate

literally the whole thing. He’d just let you have at it

and he’d go and track these people down, and...well...

let’s just say he’d definitely have detention

but afterwards, he’d never let you out of his sight

if someone so much as looked at you funny?

a detention would be in he near future for him

from then on, he’d always remind you how special you were

it’s not that he didn’t think it before, he just didn’t know how stupid he’d been

he just assumed that you knew you were

but obviously not, because you chose to believe the bullies over your friends

but he understood, he wasn’t angry,

they said horrible more things than they said nice ones

well not anymore

he’d tell you something sweet multiple times a day of he needed to

if that’s what it took to make you feel like it was true

because it absolutley was.

Sirius Black

Good Lord, there is nothing this guy would not do for you

he’d see it in action (the bullying)

and there’d be no stopping the jinxes and hexes that flew from his wand

when they were gone, he’d pull you right against him,

just letting you have a little sob again this shoulder

you’d apologise for making his robes wet with your tears, but he’d tell you that it was okay

he’d ask how long they’d been bothering you

and when you’d tell him, his heart would literally break for you

break because you has to endure this, but most of all because you went through it alone

oh how he wished you had said something

why? why hadn’t you?

but he didn’t want to scold you or make you feel worse.

as much as he himself can be an idiot and a bit stupid sometimes, this was not one of those times

he’d put his best self on and help you

help you feel happy

and worthy

and enough

because you were that, and so much more

Sirius wouldn’t be sirius without you, none of them would be who they are without you

everyday walking around the castle with you, he’d glare at anyone who dared to whisper around you

stare at you

and if they laughed, or said something to you

Sirius would go into overprotective mode

BAM! just like that!

you were worth detention for

you were worth spending hours with Filch for

he’d never let anyone make you feel less than you were ever again

a/n: sorry this took me forever :/

if you would like to be added to a tag list, just drop me an ask 😚 they’re open!

forever friends: @kitkatd7 @chaotic-fae-queen @teenagereadersciencenerd @kitkatkl @may-rapp @loki-ismyaesthetic @dearspacepirates @remibarnes22 @little-bit-of-randomness @stripedchickens @serenefreakgeek @thehumanistsdiary @reallyreading @shadowsinger11 @summergoldenrze @mischiefsemimanaged @thou-crusty-batch-of-nature @marauderswhisperer @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @hariosborn @naomi02hook @bforbroadway

harry potter tag list: @im-a-writer-right @blackpinkdolan @mayxsx @dreamer821 @emmaloo21 @masterofthedarkness @siriuslysirius1107 @mrs-moony @deadandoverit @ok-roemanov @missmulti @siriuslyjanhvi @mytreec @cheapglitter @professorblnns @diana-24-world @accio-rogers @ecrivainlune

sirius black tag list: @methamphetaminee @approved-by-dentists @fific7

[staywritten]

All In│Bang Chan «Chapter TwentyOne»

Synopsis: After a messy break up your sophomore year, you decided that the best thing for you was to finish off your college career single. You wanted to focus on yourself, grow as a person and finish off your degree strong. There’d be plenty of time for love after college. But after losing your camera you become friends with the seemingly perfect boy that threatens to ruin your plans.

Genre: SocialMedia!AU, College!AU, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut

◄Back «Masterlist» Next►

Written Portion of the Chapter Below 

You stared at your arm, the light bruising on your forearm pretty noticeable. Yugyeom never hurt you in the past, not physically at least. But last night, he grabbed you so hard, you struggled against his grip and he only held tighter. You were sure it’d be gone in a few days but it still made you sick to see. 

The last thing you wanted to do was to make Hyunjin and Momo worry. They were so protective of you, Momo would risk her performance, and could lose a scholarship. Hyunjin would risk getting expelled if you told him. But you hated lying. You didn’t want to lie to them, so you ignored them. Hyunjin had been calling you all morning and you’d been texting him that you were just too busy or tired to talk, but there was only so much of that he was going to tolerate before coming to your house.

You sighed, covering your arm with your sweater. There was so much weighing on your mind. Momo’s messages about Chan hitting Yugyeom, Rosie’s sudden DM. What were you supposed to say? What could you say? Your anxiety was getting to be a bit much, but what could you say to a girl whose relationship you almost ruined.

It was almost suffocating. And you just needed a break.

Your walk ended up taking you all the way to the park on South campus. You looked out at the lake and tried to figure out what to make of Rosie’s words. You lost track of how long you just stared at the reflection of the clouds. You were hoping the fresh air would give you courage to hear her out. See what she wanted to say, but you were just so scared. And it felt like there wasn’t an impartial party for you to turn to. And for times like this you wished you could just vent to Chris again. 

“Hey!” Changbin waved, before jogging toward you. “You runaway again?” he chuckled, lightly jogging in place monitoring as his heart rate lowered from his run.

“Ha.Ha” you let out a dry laugh, but mustered a small smile “I just went for a walk, i just needed to clear my head”

“For someone that came to clear their head, you look pretty stressed” he chuckled “Would you like some company?” You nodded gesturing to the grass beside you. He took a seat and took a swig of his water. “So what’s going on?”

“What’s your honest opinion on Chris?”

“I’ve known the guy for years, and I know he broke your heart so you’re probably not gonna wanna hear this from me but...I trust the guy with my life. He was a musical partner, and my swim captain. He puts others first and takes care of people, real empathetic guy almost too much so. His worst habit is that he overthinks and that may cause him to make some bad choices because he doesn’t wanna hurt anyone.” He leaned on his knees looking out at the lake. “But I trust him”

“I heard he punch Yugyeom…”

“Trust me, if he didn’t it was only a matter of time before someone else did. That kid is a scum bag”

“Why did he punch him?”

“Listen...I know Channie-Hyung hurt you. And he was an idiot for it but no matter how much you may hate him, he loves you and he’s not gonna let someone talk about you or hurt you like Yugyeom does. If you’re fishing to try and figure out what kind of guy he is because your image of him isn’t matching up to your hatred of him or how you’re painting him to be it’s because he isn’t a bad person… “ he smiled softly “You know exactly the kind of guy he is. The guy you fell for wouldn’t cheat”

You sighed hugging yourself “But he did...He did cheat…” you pouted. “And you’re bias”

“I am” he chuckled “You’re not gonna find many people that know him that aren’t biased.”

Changbin was right, some of your frustration was based in the fact that you built your heartbreak to blame Chris for everything that was wrong. That you guys had a good thing going and he ruined it by keeping a secret. But the Chris you spent months talking to, the man that fell asleep on the phone with you, or who made you feel safe wouldn’t have done that. He wasn’t a bad guy. 

“His girlfriend...Rosie...She DM’ed me...what do I do?”

“If you won’t talk to him, than talk to her. How many other opportunities do you think you’ll have like that” he stood up to stretch his back. “You already got your heart broken, worst case scenario you get closure”

“Best case scenario?”

“You and Channie-Hyung get back together and work this out, because a lot of people are rooting for you”

“Why are you rooting for me? When he could have some beautiful model”

“Because you make him happier than I’ve ever seen” he shrugged “Like I said Chan, is like my brother. I love him, I trust him and his happiness is my happiness. He helped me and the guys out a lot over the years and I can’t repay him enough. You’re the one person that seems like they can calm him enough for him to sleep and that’s all I can ask for” he stretched his arms and gave you a little wave. “Alright I gotta finish my run but, good luck.”

You took a deep breath and looked down at your phone before opening up instagram to reply to Rosie. At the very least you could try, couldn’t you?

To Be Continued…

Hey friends! Sorry about the long wait, I’ve just had a lot of issues with my social dummy app and ended up losing all of the profiles I use for this series so i have to remake them and it’s taking a long time. >.< 

∘Tags List:@vhschs @thelustasylum @lunnanunna @yooniversalstudios @aiyalix @ph0ebevix @zaratanveerx @channieboyo @hannahdinse8 @got7-yeah-got7onmymind @itisjustpaula @ann0325441904 @etherealchangbin @7829-kamie @ateez-babygirl @lazyliyah @im-on-a-hellavator  @princejoongie1997 @skzsprinkles @ frau-moon @ introvertapple @ehiparkcarmi @lokideadontheinside @pimpnameyannie @skkzuwu @kpopstreeanon @dimpledchannie @bangtan-g7-bigbang  @cherriechurros  @moonlight-night @ethereal-chanracha @kurootetsuro-trash @dreamescapeswriting @skzsprinkles @tophuphu @hugs4chan @channieboyo @ l1th1umm

[innittowinit]

Can you pick me up? my uni burnt down (Chapt. 2)

Relationships: Sleepy bois inc (all fics i write are platonic)

Summary: 

 In which Techno goes to England for University, his building catches fire in the night, and he isn't prepared for the difference in climate between England and California. SBI fluff ensues

Chapter summary: 

After waking up, Wilbur has the great idea that they should do a sleepy boys stream. Tommy doesn't get told about this id

Words: 1785

Language: English

AO3 Chapt. 1

Listen, waking up on a sofa, with a thin blanket shared with 3 men was never going to be the best morning. His back hurt and his legs were numb from Wilbur having sprawled out over the three of them as he slept. 

Stretching his arms back, he recounted the events of last night. God, it really was only a few hours ago, he was so tired. Had this been last year, he would have been able to stay up for days on end and then just crash for an entire weekend. It wasn’t last year though and Techno had gotten himself into a fairly healthy routine, he couldn’t exactly be sleeping through his uni classes anyway. 

“Alright you two” Hearing Philza’s voice, he propped his head up, “Get up, you can’t lay around all day”

A groan came from the mass of blankets and cushions that happened to be Wilbur, who was curled up in the centre of it,

“Phil it's so early and we went to bed so late. It’s fine to sleep in”

“Okay” he chuckled, humouring his tired friend “It’s midday Wil, im taking the blankets away now”

Techno thought it was much too early too, as he tugged the sleeves of Wilbur’s hoodie down a little further so they could act like gloves. 

“Do you mind if I use your PC to try and find out what’s going on with my classes at some point? They'll probably send me an email or something” He grumbled, standing up so he could stretch his back out properly, following Phil slowly to the kitchen.

“That’s fine, it's up in my room, do what you need”

Breakfast was nice, it had been a while since Techno had had time for it honestly, and even longer since he had been able to eat with people he cared about. He had a couple slices of buttered toast and a bowl of some british cereal which he didn’t really like but he didn’t want to be rude so he ate it anyway. 

“You wanna stream together later?” Wil asked through a mouth full of food, earning a snort from Phil. This was nice. 

“Yeah maybe, you use face cam though, I’m not like against showing them my face but y'know, it is what it is” he shrugged, spooning another mouthful of his breakfast into his mouth, he had to admit it was very bland, he much preferred the sweeter ones that were more popular in America. 

“Well think about it, if you decide you don't want them to see you, you can always just sit off to the side and I'll turn my monitor so you can still see it. My office is big enough for it anyway, it’ll be like where Niki was during that one MCC remember?”

Techno nodded and carried on eating, they really were 3 very sleepy boys right now. Maybe he’d take a nap once he found out what was going on with his classes. 

------------------

------------------

Streaming without any gameplay to comment about and with facecam on? Techno wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. That just didn’t really sound like something he was going to enjoy.

It was nerve wracking and he always seemed to glance at the camera too much when it was pointed at him. He knew the fans would be disappointed if he didn’t do it though, When Wilbur tweeted out saying that he and Phil would join him in a ‘you laugh you lose’ he watched as the replies freaked out. 

You could say he was just a bit camera shy, he wasn’t incredibly insecure, sure there were things he didn’t like that much but everyone had things like that, it just made him nervous to know that people were looking at him. 

He’d be okay with his friend’s though, he trusted that they’d never put him in an uncomfortable situation. He knew if he got overwhelmed he could sit outside the frame. 

It would be okay. 

“Hey hey chat” Wilbur mumbled into the mic, making it loud enough so that everyone could hear but it still sounded like he was whispering. 

“We’ve got the blade here, bet you weren’t expecting that huh chat? Or maybe you were, maybe you read the title of the stream, bet there’s someone watching who didn't think he’d be here though” he finally turned the music off and switched from his ‘starting soon’ screen to his regular camera. 

Wil went through the rules, it was the normal stuff, he added in some jokes here and there, prodding Techno and Phil to talk at times. They’d already agreed that this wouldn’t be for youtube, since that seemed to add a bit too much pressure for Techno, but hey, he still had to welcome his chat. 

“Okay!! First media share! Lets go”  

After a series of videos, some funnier than others, Techno had started to loosen up a bit. He was getting more comfortable with the camera and while he’d probably cringe while looking back at the footage, at least he was having fun right now.

He had a warm feeling in his chest that wasn’t usually there when he was streaming alone, sure it was usually fun but nothing was better than being with his friends while doing it, there was really only one person who was missing. 

As if on queue, chat started spamming Tommy’s name, for a moment Techno thought he had been mumbling his thoughts out loud, before he looked between Phil and Wilbur, who both seemed equally confused. Moving Wilbur’s mouse over the chat to pause it, Techno tried to read some of the messages. 

“Oh he tweeted something” he mumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket without a care. Maybe some irl streamers would have used the computer but knowing Wilbur’s history, he doubted it could run Chrome and streamlabs at the same time. 

Looking at the tweet he felt a little pang of guilt. It was lighthearted and jokey but he knew there’d be a little truth to it. He nudged the other two and read it aloud to them. 

‘Damn guess I’m not a sleepy boy after all’

The air felt a little thick after that, they hadn’t meant to exclude Tommy; all of the excitement of Techno coming to stay had just made it a little hard to arrange to have Tommy here after all. 

Still, they probably should have still told him though. They were supposed to be each other's family.  

“Hey chat I think we’re gonna have to end stream early.” Wilbur finally piped up, deciding it wouldn't be right to carry on when they had hurt their friend, not that chat needed to know that though, he didn’t want to embarrass Tommy. 

“I feel kinda sick and I don't think you all wanna watch me vomit right? Yeah so it’s best we end it now” 

Techno sniggered to himself at that, in games Wilbur always seemed to be very cunning but he supposed he wasn’t very good at lying when it was about something he actually cared about. Said something being Tommy.  

After raiding Fundy, the trio hopped straight onto discord. 

Tommy didn't answer the first time he was called. 

Or the second. 

Finally, after three calls, Tommy decided he’d talk to them. 

“You are all a bunch of dick heads, you know that? What the hell! Why wasn’t I invited to the sleepy boy’s stream! Wilbur you bitch!” Through all the vulgar language and the constant yelling, it was clear that Tommy was genuinely upset. 

He had every right to be, as far as Techno was concerned. From his point of view his friend’s had just gone off and hung out without him. He just hoped he’d calm down once they explained everything.  

“You know I thought we were friends! I thought we were brothers! But if you don’t wanna hang out with a ‘kid’ you can just tell me and i’ll- i'll go!” He was still yelling, as usual, it was clear he was trying to make this into a joke where he could overreact but Techno noticed the small sniffles and the quiver in his voice. 

By the looks on Phil’s and Wilbur’s faces, they recognised it too.  

“Listen, Tommy” 

Wil was the first to talk, it made sense, it seemed that Tommy trusted him the most at times. Sometimes Techno could be a bit too cold and sometimes Phil could get a bit too overbearing.

Techno understood this, he didn��t take it personally, he knew it was only natural that you have people you trust with your emotions more than others. It didn’t mean Tommy didn’t love them just as much, just that they weren’t his ‘go-to’ when he felt down. 

Techno felt the same way sometimes. Feeling’s got complicated and personally he thought Phil was the best to talk to about that, the fact that he was older and had his life sorted out gave him a sense of comfort, like he could trust him because he knew what he was talking about. 

“We didn’t plan a meetup, it just sorta happened. Phil was at my place, helping me record, and then Techno’s Uni had a fire and he needed a place to stay while they’re making it safe again” Wilbur sighed as he heard Tommy moving on the other side of his mic. Techno wondered what he was doing. 

“We would have invited you, had we known that we’d all be in the same place Toms” 

Phil took over, giving Wilbur a little sympathetic smile. The brunette so obviously felt guilty about the situation. 

“But when we got the call from Tech’ it was past 3 in the morning and it was tipping it down with snow, as soon as we got home we all slept. We decided to do a stream this morning but never once did we intend to try and make you feel like you aren’t welcome with us” 

Finally it was Techno’s turn to talk...Fuck.

He wasn’t exactly the most sentimental guy, he struggled to show his emotions and he just assumed everyone he cared for just knew that he cared for them. He rarely had to say it out loud. God okay. He just had to swallow his pride and go for it. 

“Tommy you are a sleepy boy and you are our brother. We did kind of a dick move today and if I was you I’d probably be upset too. I know I didn't like seeing you guys playing without me during MCC and that wasn’t even any of our decisions. We should have called you or something. I know I kinda tease you a lot but that’s just how I show I like people. Listen Tommy if I didn’t care about you I wouldn’t be comfortable enough to make those kinds of jokes with you. It’s not funny if it’s hurting you though..”

Techno bit his lip, this wasn’t as hard as he had anticipated but it was coming out like word vomit. 

“You’re young Tommy but you’re so talented. We love you”

There was some more rustling, it sounded like Tommy was wiping his eyes. Maybe the boy had expected a yelling match, only for it to turn out to be very emotional. 

“I love you guys too.. If you ever exclude me ever again though I’m getting my vlog knife out”

[djpurple3]

For the emotional prompts... Bliss 15 & 16 with Roceit? If you dont mind?

ohohohoh hell yea babey lets get some ROCEIT CONTENT up in this house [also a later comment im gonna edit this to try and fix the formatting bc tumblr seems to hate me and my writing style personally lmao]

—

Roman didn’t think he’d ever been happier. There’d never been a moment in his life where he’d felt so cosy and content, and so wonderfully warm, than right now, with Deceit slotting comfortably in his arms just like the prince was built for holding him.

Deceit shifted in his arms a little, trying to get even more comfortable, before looking up at Roman with adoring eyes.“Hi,” he said softly, his silky smooth voice soothing Roman so serenely.

“Hi,” Roman rumbled back, and he leant down to press a kiss into the top of Deceit’s head. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re more stunning than the moon?”

“Only a moon-addled fool,” Deceit smiled back. “In the Shakespearean sense of the word, of course.”

The object of one’s love.

“Ah,” Roman smiled. “The only sort of fool I’d ever want to be is yours, Dee.”

Deceit curled up, head on Roman’s chest, and from where they were lying on the soft green grass in the Imagination, they watched the golden light of afternoon tip over into the glorious oranges and reds of dusk together.

Roman’s heart was full. There was so much he wanted to say. He wanted to sing and dance and soliloquize and kiss Deceit breathless but it all stopped in the base of his throat, tumbling over themselves and silencing him before Roman could even fling them off his tongue.

His breath hitched, and he blinked furiously as Deceit looked up at him in concern.

“Ro?” he asked, voice gentle and calm against the distant birdsong. “What’s wrong, my love?”

“Thank you,” Roman managed to force out, trying to blink past tears only to have them leak down his cheeks. “Thank you for staying with me.”

Deceit’s concern melted into something far more tender.

“Thank you for inviting me,” he replied, but there was an extra statement in that, under that, if Roman knew how to look (and he did).

Thank you for letting me in, letting me love you.

Roman nearly couldn’t breathe with how much the emotions wanted to come spilling out, but he just couldn’t figure out how to say it. Around them in the meadow, countless wildflowers bloomed, the most delicate but beautiful perfume filling the air (but not too strong, because of Dee’s sensitive sense of smell.

“How do I tell you?” Roman giggled, pressing another kiss into Deceit’s soft air. “How can I put the words to voice? To ink? To song? To movement? There’s so much and more you deserve, keeper of my heart. I feel like I’m going to burst.”

Deceit was smiling so soft, so wide.

“I know how you feel,” he hummed, and he crawled up so he could be face to face with the prince, resting their foreheads against each other’s. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone this much before.”

Roman giggled again, and Deceit sighed at him, a tender smile carving his usually stoic expression. Roman reached up to cup his love’s face, brushing a thumb across Deceit’s scaly cheekbone and enjoying watching him melt into his touch.

“I love you,” he whispered, words hanging in the still air. “I love you more than words can describe, my dearest darling.”

“And you, my prince,” Deceit kissed his nose, but whilst it was nice, they both knew that wasn’t what they wanted. “My stunning, smart, beautiful, talented, wonderful prince. I… I love you too.”

Roman found tears slipping down his temples as he leaned up, leading Deceit’s face down in his gentle and careful grip, and Deceit followed him willingly.

When their lips met, Roman did his best to funnel every thought, every admission, every ounce of love into the contact. How could he fully commit his love to words? He couldn’t. But the way that Deceit hummed deep in his throat, sleepy and loving, told Roman he didn’t need to, either.

[artangel3993]

this is pt 2 of this drabble and it wont rlly make sense w/o it!  time 4 violet. cw for i mean general fuckery that is conditionally present in the box boy universe, contracts n ownership discussed, also mention of drugs

the inspiration for the setting of the underground military bunker turned psychedelic warehouse is from a real case that was i think still the largest lsd bust in the 2000s which is neat. drug history! that link has pics of the actual bunker too and im p sure vice also did a documentary on it, its a really interesting case! anyways i just want to get to bunker time so i can introduce poppy bc i love her. 

prev | next

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Safiya could not, for the life of her, figure out what the fuck was wrong with this algorithm. She kept running it through her IDE over and over, checked all the spellings of the variables, and it still wouldn’t run the way she needed it to, or be a functional block of code in any way, intended or not (she got that sometimes, when a program would run but it would do something completely fucking different than her intentions.) She dragged her hands down her eyes, and took another long sip of her energy drink. She hadn’t slept in two days and she was still behind on her end of the code for her company’s new game- which fucking sucked, but at the same time, Saf liked the challenge, the conflict. Having something to do. Vi left her with enough money that she’d never have to work a day in her life again and still be fine, but she was good at game development- well. Not right now, but in general. Right now, she was about to ring whoever invented C++ by the neck.

Safiya was set up at the table by the kitchen, hosting her computer, a jumble of folders and piles of unorganized papers, at least three finished Monster’s scattered in between it all, and herself: wrapped in a knitted blanket, the monitor’s blue light bathing her dark skin. Summer was a couple steps away on the couch, lying down on her stomach and watercoloring, her legs idly kicking this way and that in the air (when Saf was working, Summer liked to create with her, she’d put on one of Saf’s records and make all kinds of art in a concentrated, comfortable silence, but watercoloring was always her favorite. Sometimes she’d give Saf painted pictures of the characters in whatever game she was working on, which made Saf smile like an idiot every time and put them someplace safe.) There were still wildflowers and weeds weaved into Summer’s golden hair, mud caking her tennis shoes laid forgotten by the door, and a soft smile on her face; all clues that made Saf infer she’d probably been out in the garden this morning that Summer had recently started. Saf had a lot of land extending from the cottage she’d never explored and left wholly wild and uncared for, so Summer kind of took over. 

Now when Saf looked out one of the front windows, there were all kinds of flowers lining the house, fluffy bumblebees laying on their petals, the beginnings of an apple tree supported by two wooden poles on either side as big as the sapling was. Once, she got dressed in all of her protective clothing because Summer asked if she could bring her outside and show her the full tour, just to see her get excited talking about all the different seeds she’d planted, her plans to tie a swing to the big oak tree out front. Safiya, in those moments, felt like she knew Summer, really. Felt like she knew what she could do to keep her in that good place, and even if she still slipped into being far away, Saf could handle it.

(There were other kinds of days, too, when Summer felt like a completely different person and Safiya was out kicking in the fucking deep end with no understanding of what to do, if anything she could do would make a difference anyways. Sometimes Summer wouldn’t talk for days. Sometimes, she’d sit poised and elegant- on the couch or the rocking chair or her bed in what used to be the spare room- for hours and hours and hours with the only movement being her blinking every so often, her face otherwise looked like it was as trapped in a pose as the rest of her. Safiya would try sitting down with her, and talking as quiet and gentle as her voice would allow, ask her if she was alright, if she wanted to maybe stand up with her and they could take a little walk around the rooms of the cottage, maybe, or- or Saf could put on all of her gear and they could go outside together- take my hand, everything’s okay, you’re safe I promise- but Summer would be unresponsive at that point, staring straight ahead, and Safiya would realize just how fucking unqualified she was to try and help her at all.)

Safiya fell out of her thoughts as the record Summer put on got caught in a groove, and started repeating the same chord over and over. Summer’s head peeked up from the couch, and she walked over to the record player, delicately flipping the vinyl and motioning towards putting it back onto the player.

She never got the chance, though. The front door made a clicking sound, the hinges sighed, and Violet Lowe was standing in the doorframe. Summer dropped the vinyl and it shattered. 

“I thought I changed my locks.” Safiya didn’t move from where she spoke.

Violet shrugged. “You did.” There was quiet. She closed the door behind her to keep the light out.

Safiya stood up, her blanket dropping to the floor, and she felt stupid for being in her sweats and a pair of fucking crocs because it would be really great if she was anything close to intimidating right now. Still, she walked over to Vi, putting herself in between her and Summer. 

Safiya intended to say a lot of things to her, everything that had been boiling in her mind since the morning Vi left and didn’t come back, insults and how could yous and I deserve better than thats. Instead, this is what came out: “I missed you, Vi. So much.” If, Saf thought, she was just a little less emotionally stunted, there’d be tears in her eyes. She really thought Vi wasn’t going to come back this time.

Violet smiled, but it was unreadable behind her sunglasses. She was definitely selling again, it showed in the gold and silver coiling around her fingers in serpentine rings and  dripping down her neck, contrasted starkly against her black cocktail dress. She had new heeled boots that made her stand almost as tall as Summer was, their glossy cold-black finish the exact same shade as her perfectly maintained bob. “I know you missed me. It’s why I came back.”

“Where have you been selling?” Saf knew Vi had friends in the business with mansions up and down the west coast they’d hop around, going from city to city giving out all kinds of compounds and getting rich as fuck in the process, living like psychedelic royalty. But this felt different, she’d been gone for too long.

Vi shook her head. “Not selling. Manufacturing. That’s where the real money is. We don’t have to move around, either, we bought this underground military bunker-”

“A bunker. An underground military bunker.” How the fuck do you just buy an underground military bunker.

Vi mhm’d impatiently, as if she was puzzled as to Saf not being able to keep up. “It used to be for large weapons storage, but it got auctioned off. One of the smartest decisions me and Nic ever made.” Sometimes Saf didn’t recognize the names Vi would rattle off, but Nic, Nic she knew from the one time she’d been with Saf while she was away on her business trips. She swallowed the memories she, frankly, could not be less prepared to deal with, back down.

Violet took Safiya’s hands in hers, the cold metal of her rings making imprints against Saf’s fingers. “Saf, Elana’s making psychoactive compounds nobody’s even theorized about before, with the amount of privacy we have there. You understand? We’re about to change the drug underbelly of this entire nation. And I want you there with me.”

“I’d go with you?” Vi’d never offered to take her with, ever since everything happened that summer, with her Vi, Elana and Nic. Safiya looked back at Summer in her floral sundress (she only wore that one on days when she was feeling good, Saf knew it was her favorite,) who at that point had pressed herself against the wall, standing straight and dead silent, staring at the both of them, her face unreadably calm to most, but Saf knew she only disconnected like that when she was fucking terrified. The record was still in pieces on the ground. With both eyes on her, Summer peeled herself off of the wall and hurriedly started picking up the shattered bits. Safiya moved towards her, breaking Vi’s grip. “It’s alright, Summer, I’ve got this, don’t worry about it-”

“Summer?” Vi said behind her, and Safiya realized just how badly she does not want these two people in her life to interact ever. Fuck. “It suits her so well. How have you liked my birthday present for you so far?”

Safiya stomped back up to Violet, and in a whisper edging on a growl, “We are not doing this right now Vi.” Saf would make grave eye contact with her if it weren’t for the fact that Vi still had her fucking shades on. 

“Now, if you had such a problem with my generosity, she’d be gone by now, wouldn’t she?” And then, after a moment, she added: “Stop acting like a saint, Safiya. You’ve never been a good liar.”

The room buzzed with the echo of her words, and Safiya stood there, quiet, for a dragged out moment, trying to think of some way to spit back at her. It didn’t happen. With the most calm face she can put on right now, she turned back to Summer. “Summer, maybe you should... go outside, for a little bit. I’ll tell you when I’ve shown Violet out.” She makes those last words taste like venom, matter-of-fact, so Vi can hear her anger. 

“No, she can stay.”

Summer stopped dead in her tracks. Looking at the fear in her eyes, that sinking look that overpowered any kind of calm Summer usually had when Saf was there, Saf knew she was lost. Summer was listening to Vi, now, all Vi, the kind of gone Saf was all too familiar with people getting under Vi’s words.

“Anyways,” Vi said, a tad annoyed, as if all of that had just been a mere blip in the conversation, turning her head to address Saf, “yes, you’re coming with. You’d be safe in the bunker, I made sure of it. All of your special lights. I want…. I want you there. With me.”

If this had been in literally any other context, Safiya would’ve smiled at Vi’s effort to communicate her feelings, Saf had been with her for years and she knew how hard it was for her to even understand her own emotions, much less say them out loud. But she was pissed at her, and she was going to hold onto that feeling for as long as she could to make her feel worse. “Summer stays here.” There was no way in hell she was going to let Summer anywhere near Vi’s fucked up drug empire. 

Vi just fucking shrugged. “She’s coming.”

Saf charged at her again, pointing an accusing finger at her and getting close enough until it buried into the fabric of Vi’s dress. “You can act like I’m as fucked up as you are but I would never trust her with your or your f-”

Vi smiled, and batted Saf’s hand off of her as if she was a somewhat disinterested cat. “Let me rephrase that. My name is on her contract. She’s coming.”

[chouetteffraie]

Lil Aku Headcanons because.......im dumb

I think about him a lot :/

General Relationship Headcanons - Akutagawa Ryunosuke

One thing that is generally agreed upon is that physical touch is super out of this boy’s comfort zone and something he’d have to get used to, which is true. It is also generally agreed upon that physical touch in public is a big no-no- also true, but let me elaborate on that.

 Obviously in public you won’t be touching much because 1.you don’t do it much in private (I’m talking sweet/intimate touches not nasty ones) and 2. it’d be easy to connect the dots and use you as a way to get to Akutagawa and there’s probably a few people who wouldn’t mind using that information to their advantage

But, especially if you’ve been together for a while, I’d imagine there’d be a little bit of something. Not hand holding though.

Instead, he’d probably just like,,,brush his hand against yours on purpose. It sounds pointless and weird but hear me out.

1. it could easily be written off as an accident should anybody be paying attention to the proximity of your hands 

2. It isn’t anything that would make him feel especially uncomfortable- I know sometimes I feel like if you’re holding hands with someone it’s such a commitment to never need to use that hand. This is probably really ridiculous but when he’s out in public with you he’s a little paranoid and would prefer to not be incapacitated by only having one hand available even though if something were to happen he could,,,,,take his hand back and use it? 

I feel like any touch in public isn’t necessarily meant to be affectionate though it certainly wouldn’t be devoid of affection and is used as more of a reassurance that you’re there

Remember how I said it could easily be written off as an accident to any passerby? Well if you’ve started to notice that he has bumped your hand a bunch and you ask him about it he can easily just scoff and say “You’re the one bumping against me I don’t know what you’re talking about”

100% he has accidentally bumped against you too hard one time and started to avoid your gaze for a few minutes because he made himself so obvious and was embarrassed

Have you ever been on an actual date out with him before? Yeah! I like the idea (which I think I read first here) that there are a few Mafia owned places that you’ll go to occasionally. While on one of these dates I still don’t think he’s very into hand-holding. But he’s super into you like holding onto his arm! Consider:

You get to stay close to him and be connected without movement being super limited (at least, not on his part)

 You’ll absentmindedly use your thumb to stroke his arm and he’ll never let you know how much he loves it

If you’re wrapping things up and the two of you are alone you’ll rest your head on his arm and he loves that too

However! If the two of you are at home, Akutagawa doesn’t mind holding your hand while you’re just sitting and enjoying each other’s company. He’s just picky about what he shows to the world.

I also love love LOVE the idea that he likes it when you play with his hair. Run your fingers through it, play with a specific piece, whatever. It relaxes him and is probably the closest the two of you get in terms of casual physical affection

If you’re really lucky and he’s in a good mood he’ll let you comb it when it needs it how do boys take care of their hair

Additionally: massages. Scalp massages and shoulder massages for sure but he’ll take anything. You’ll probably have to convince him a little in the beginning because he’s too proud for his own good but he’ll never put up too much of a fight if you’re offering.

Something I see a lot is that, as his s/o, you’ll have to learn how to pick up on the tiny, subtle cues he’ll give as to how he’s feeling, how comfortable he is and what he wants. But what are those hints you’ll have to decipher. Here’s a few ideas:

If he’s sitting or lying next to you and he wants some sort of physical affection he will not initiate it. Instead he will keep glancing your way and start pouting without realizing it and you’ll have to take the first step. HOWEVER you should only do something small like lean your head on his shoulder or give him a little smooch on the cheek because if you go in too quickly he’ll feel stupid for not making the first move and will continue to be pouty.

I don’t personally imagine him to be quiet all the time, but everything he says has meaning i.e. no chit-chat. maybe a little chit-chat if you’ve had an uneventful day he likes talking to you oKAY. 

Let’s say you’re reading a book and you’re one of those people who like to analyze it like you were an English teacher, or really if you’re ranting and raving about something else, he’ll listen and enjoy it but you’ll have to keep glancing at him to make sure he isn’t lost or getting annoyed.

Akutagawa will never ever ever admit to getting lost though. If he ever is, he’ll tilt his head ever so slightly and furrow his nonexistent eyebrows a teeny tiny bit. This is your cue to slow down, but don’t make an effort to ask him if he understands because he might feel stupid.

If he’s annoyed, it’s a little more obvious and that’s your cue to wrap it up and change the subject. It’s also a little more rare because he wuvs you uwu

He’s down for deep philosophical conversations because it interests him how you see the world and how it aligns with how you see him, especially if you’re one of those people who sees good in everything and have a rather optimistic perspective on things.

Don’t tell him that you think he’s good or there’s good in him. Akutagawa knows what he does and what he is and he won’t appreciate you trying to butter him up. Instead you can tell him he’s good to you and that you enjoy being around him / feel safe around him and ESPECIALLY that you aren’t afraid of him. You accepting and liking him the way he is and sees himself is way more important to him than you believing in something that might not even be there.

You should, however, convince him that he isn’t a monster or devoid of humanity. You don’t have to kiss up to him to let him know that he still exists as a person and ease his mind on that.

Don’t try to change his mind about anything too much. Discussing opposing viewpoints is way more fun than having someone try to tell him his entire outlook on life is wrong.

I can’t imagine he’d be particularly fond of deep questions like “what is life all about?” or “what happens after we die?” when he isn’t expecting them. Give him a warning if you’re having an existential crisis or else he’ll not only shut down, but he won’t be able to sleep that night and he needs his sleep!!!!

I don’t know where I was going to end this so here’s some sleep thoughts:

Only dreams like five times a year unless he’s having nightmares. Never remembers those dreams in great details but he knows enough about them to remember them for a while

Any dreams Akutagawa has aren’t exceptionally weird, nor do they reveal some kind of hidden desire he’s had. They’re just kind of there, like he’s watching himself go through a normal day. 

Nightmares are bad but he normally doesn’t flail around too much. He probably just makes some really intense facial expressions before eventually rolling over and calming down while still asleep. If he does wake up, his eyes fly open wide and he just kind of lies there trying to calm his breathing and listen to see if there are any intruders or something.

If sleeping with his s/o he won’t be a super cuddler but will end up with them in his arms in the morning. Sometimes this happens because you fell asleep first and he just,,,,wanted to, but most of the time it happens while you both are asleep. He will deny both, even if you both are awake and you are still in his arms as you accuse him.

Anyway please love Akutagawa please

[general-writing-from-lizzie]

A new start- chapter one

Roman had a plan. This plan would make sure deceit would *never* be forgiven. He didn't care what it meant, he needed to get back to him. He took away Virgil, the one person who ever truly cared about him. The only one he loved. Sure, he had done plays and acting, but nothing compared to the thrill of true love. True love he *had* to get back. No matter the cost.

Was this wrong? Definitely. Did Roman care? Please. When jealousy hits, it hits hard. Roman was hated, he was the villain! That shouldn't stand! If they were gone, there'd be nothing stopping him being favourite! That's all that mattered, not these *useless* sides.

Oh, who should he end first? Isn't it obvious? The 'family favourite' patton! Hes the most susceptible to this, and would cause the most grief. Nothing anyone says could ever stop him, he will do this, he must do this! It's the only thing that's right! He's doing this for Virgil. That *idiot* wont be any use to him! This broken world doesn't need deceit!

"Oh patton~" he called, as sweetly as he could, early in the morning, so noone else was awake. When Patton turned around, he dropped the cup, that was gripped in his hand, seeing roman right infront of him. He seemed to be glitching, his head tilted. Roman grabbed him by the cardigan, and dragged him into his room. "This is gonna be fun, dont worry~" he sounded... Demonic. A knife kept glitching in and out of his hand, as well as a noose.

Virgil quickly realised what was going on, and dragged deceit along with him, but the door was locked. They ran round to the window, climbed up the vines and saw patton, tied to a chair, with Roman circling him. "No-one appreciates you." "No-one loves you." "No-one cares about you." He taunted "Pa-Dad! Don't listen to him! He's lying!" Deceit cried out, tears down his cheeks. He couldn't bare to see his family treated like this. "Oh, deceit? Wouldn't it be bad if *you* got blamed for his death?" Patton seemed lifeless, tears flowing like a waterfall. Roman swished his sword out of the window, deceit ducking and pulling virgil down "We need to get him out of there... We can't let him die like cattle!" They ran back to deceits room, watching the cameras intently.

Logan had been informed about this, by sources, and was almost constantly on a call with deceit and Virgil, who had a camera. Patton meant so much to all of them, nothing would stop them from saving him. But, Logan began to get worse and worse. He stopped showing up for meals and he stopped answering calls. When Virgil tried to talk to him, his door was locked. The only noise was faint crying, nothing would make him come out. One day, deceit snuck in through the window, having to snap off his lock, and found him sat on his unmade bed, papers everywhere, and the walls and ceilings severely cracked. That wasn't a good sign.

"Logan?" He asked, not getting a response. "Look at me, we'll help Patton. I don't care what it takes, we'll get him out" "but what if we can't... The mind palace will fall apart, he was the glue holding us together... What about Thomas?" "Thomas knows and Virgil is working overtime to keep him anxious so he doesn't do anything harmful. Pattons still holding on well, his rooms still as colourful as ever.." he suddenly hugged the logical side. "I can't lie to you... He's not holding up... I can't do this... I can't loose him, Logan! But we need to stay strong. Would he want us like this? No. He wouldn't. He'd tell us to live as normal life we can, to stay strong. Tell you what, I'll go check on him now, if you go and eat something. We've all been worried sick about you..." "Okay..."

He went into romans room, about to try and comfort Patton, when he froze. His eyes locked onto the figure, the figure just hanging there. Knees weak, he fell to the floor, crying. Patton, sweet, loving Patton was gone. Roman had killed him. He had been driven to suicide. His body swayed in the breeze, his face violently bare. This was deceit's fault. He had rotted out Roman, if he hadn't done that none of this would have happened. If he had stayed the bad guy Patton would be alive. Punching the floor and pulling his hair, deceit had a meltdown, tear after tear dropping into the carpet. The usually white carpet was stained with red underneath his corpse, a suicide note placed on top of it.

It read; *Dear logan, I'm sorry. Im sorry I wasn't there when you needed me, I'm sorry i was so weak. Emotions were my downfall, and i should have listened to you. *

*Dear Virgil, you were some of the best company i ever had, you made me happy when skies are grey. I'm sorry you couldn't trust me with your problems. I guess I'm your dead gay dad now, hey.*

*Dear deceit, you were there for me every day, you helped me through everything. And that wasnt enough for poor old me. I made you hurt, made you cry, so that i felt better. That's not what a father should do*

*Dear Roman, Get out of my head Get out of my head Get out of my head Get out of my head Get out of my head Get out of my head Get out of my head Get out of my head Get out of my head Get out of my head*

He held the letter against his chest, curling in a ball and crying. Closing his eyes tight, he remembered all the times he had with Patton. The happiness, the sadness, the fear. It was all crystal clear inside his head. What did it mean by *get out of my head*? That all seemed quite suspicious. Wiping his tears and standing up, he felt an urge to smash something. Good thing there was a mirror there. Deceit walked up to it, and pushed his fist through it. His hand got cut and started bleeding, but he didnt care. Walking to the door, he kicked it down and ran to Logan. His eyes were red and puffy, the snake side even more than usual, which concerned him. Looking down, he saw the bloody hand and the trail of blood from Romans room.

"Is Patton okay?" "I was too late.... He's gone..." "Did he leave a note?" Dee (deceit) pushed the note towards Logan, who scanned it with eyes wide. He started shaking, and he covered his face with his hands. "F***ing Roman! Why... Why did he do this" Dee sat next to him, and held him rubbing his back. "Stay strong. It's what he would have wanted. For Virgil..." There was a glitching noise behind them "oh boo hoo, it's soo sad, he couldn't even stay strong for you. Pathetic. You'll fall just as easily as him."

[humanityinahandbag]

Coco Head Canon: Centro de los Casi Muertos

SO I’M SUPER SUPER SUPER NEW TO THIS FANDOM but I’ve been sort of watching im-fairly-whitty and imaredshirt and slusheeduck and so many more artists and writers who are incredible there, and I needed to at least try and nudge my own little head canon through before the day was out. 

Sitting just a mile away from the plaza, settled on a hill looking over a massive body of blackened water, sits the Centro del Entre-  fondly nicknamed by the citizens of the land below as Centre de los Casi Muertos. 

It’s a place where the almost dead go- the ones who are nearly there, who are fading, who are hanging on tight. It makes the entire bureaucratic system run a little smoother if those who are nearly dead are processed early and takes some strain off the Department of Family Reunions if present family members can be there in the waiting room or with the nearly deceased to either help them through the transition, have someone around to calm them down, or give them the support needed to pass back over to the land of the living. 

It’s a hospital, in some ways. With beds, windows, occasional offered jello cups (those are mostly for children - though sometimes adults request it, just for some sort of menial comfort. 

The walls are blue (the commissioner had wanted white “to feel more like the true hospitals of los vivos!” but that presented an issue when every skeleton who passed through blended too neatly against the paint) 

Patrolling through the halls, the nurses glance through at the elderly lying in beds, surrounded by their skeletal predecessors telling tales of greatly exaggerated exploits. Young men and women talk through nerves and tears. Some leaving for sickness. Others, accidents. Boney hands stroke still living fingers 

(just barely-

just a breaths away). 

They bring flowers. Some bring tequila (though nurses are strict about age and no you cannot serve that to the thirteen year old I don’t care how much he pleads!). The more modern bring tablets. The older ones bring ancient checkerboards left on gravestones long before as offerings. There are comfort alebrijes that swarm the children's wards. Cats and dogs and the occasional cacomistle. 

It’s not a bad place. A sad one, yes. But most centers for those tipping just over an edge are. There are tears- buckets and bowls and swimming pools worth of them. But it’s a place bursting with remembered. With reunions and promises (”nothing bad can happen now- you’re with family”). 

No one wants to get that call. Who would. And those who do are met with grief and disgust and fear. You could always see them. The ones who’d been alerted.  Imelda could remember one or two who had bolted from their apartmentos and through the streets. One who had done his best to hold fast to a smile etched in tragedy. “Mi sobrino,” he’d told her on his way there, hefting a bag of chorizo, a boquet in hand. “My wife is already there so I... I have to...” he tipped his hat, his eyes somewhere other than her. “Perdóname, Señora.”

She had pitied and clicked non-existent-tongue and offered discounts off of shoes from the newly arrived. 

She did not expect to get the call herself. 

“Buenos trades. One of your younger family members has just been brought through into a private room in el Centro del Entre, Señora Rivera. This is a courtesy call to inform you that you’ve been logged into our systems and if you’d like to visit to help in the transition, you’re more than welcome,” the skeleton on the other line drawled, a good deal more blasé then Imelda would have predicted, though she’d had heard rumor from customers that the service was less than desirable. She might have scolded, had her hand not been clutching at the lacing of her dress. 

She doesn’t want to ask who.

“Miguel Rivera.” the attendant says anyway, reading it slowly, her letters flat. “That is your family member, verdad?” 

She manages to push out a tiny “sí...” From the kitchen she hears a rustle, a pause, and Héctor pokes his head round the bend. He mouthes qué esta pasando? and she waves him off in favor of clutching at the phone. 

“He’s a little disoriented- the nurses said he’s just waking up. If you’d like to make your way here you’re more than welcome. The Transitions Department wanted you to be aware that there’d be some paperwork signed and he is a minor-”

“He’s twelve,” she croaks. As if that will change things. As if that will make this not true. Because twelve year olds don’t die. They don’t end up here. They don’t leave too early and wind up in deathbed hospitals, in cold blue rooms with cold blue halls and cold, blue clad nurses. “He’s in your cursed los Casi Muertos and he’s twelve!” 

There’s a sound from behind her. Héctor has emigrated from the kitchen and he’s drawing in a too large breath. There’s no air left in the room. 

“Señora, I know this is a shock, but please know that this is just a suggestion. We can have one of our social workers supervise for the paperwork and there’s absolutely no need to be present.”

“What!” If only this woman were in in reaching distance of her boot- “Of course we’ll be there! You presume-”

“Señora,” breathes the woman, who’s obviously juggling another call from the sound of her nasaled patience, “I’m just reading a script.” 

Imelda stays on the phone to hear directions. To hear that they need identification. That only one adult had to be present, but the max room hold was fifteen. “No sharp objects,” she intoned well enough that Imelda knew it was memorized. “You can bring gifts, games, or alebrijes smaller than twenty inches in length. No blades, no metal tools. Understood?”

Imelda wants to cast out a barb that she’s bringing her entire cutlery set, just to spite the woman, but numbly agrees. Hangs up. 

Héctor is standing wide eyed beside her. She opens her mouth. Closes it. Wants to wail, and shriek, and hit something and-

“Imelda?” Héctor reaches out. Touches her elbow. When she looks up, she can see panic so well repressed that another might have seen it as the quiet, sorrowful ease. 

She nods. 

We can panic later, his face says. 

We can panic later, she agrees with a hard press of her hand into his. 

It’s the look of a man who’s had years to practice restraint. 

Perhaps it’s just instinct. She can remember when Cocó had twisted her ankle jumping sticks by their ofrenda and he’d calmly lifted her into lanky arms and told her jokes while her mamá wrapped her little swollen ankle in tea soaked linen. 

This was the temperament of a parent. A parent who had never really lost their innate ease at doing just that. 

“I’ll pack a bag. I think Oscar has an old checkers board I can bring. Somewhere.” He lets her go. “Do you want to see what we have in the fridge? Poor chamaco must be starving.”

“Frightened,” she injected. “Terrified.”

“Hungry,” he affirmed. 

She nodded. Okay. Distract. Distractions were good. Food was a good distraction. 

“Bring your guitar,” she adds, before she hurries through the pack up whatever she has left of the past evenings chilorio.

There had been a crash. A car sliding through the plaza into the evenings entertainment and the young boy who hadn’t jumped fast enough out of the way. 

He wakes up to cold blue walls and cold blue halls and an empty room that smells of disinfectant and marigolds. 

“Hello?” he says, with no response. When he tries to stand, his legs don’t work. There’s something stinging on the side of his head. 

There are covers up to his waist and he hikes them up higher. Eyes misting, the young boy curls into himself, watching the door, listening to the sounds of people milling about outside. 

He waits. 

[naferty]

@bornwithgasolineheart @lokiismyoneandonly @tracingmemories13 @larissaloki @stupidlyconfused @eccentricrage @constancetruggle @valeriahearth @mariesbookblog @ajanamyth @arellaroth @summerpipedream @ksziggy @nerdymarvellove @lighthearted-liv @accio-stark @rinianitsocial @liljeconvallaria @audre-w @ndegenzuri @captainsuperpotato @dragonsophie @understandingthelyrics @valiantkittenwitch @crystallized-iron @xissa-chanx @est0095 

Part 4! Longer than the others so I put a ‘keep reading’ There’s one more part coming up. Shorter from what I’m imagining but it is the last one. This one is all ironpanther at the end so get ready for feels. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” is the first thing Steve says when they meet. Tony can already feel a headache going on. He doesn’t need to explain himself. It’s not his fault they didn’t piece it together or bothered to get to know him and learn of the name change themselves.

“Does it matter? You both went after a name. Congratulations you found it.”

“That’s not what we wanted.”

“No?” Tony snapped because it’s been years since he’s buried this but Steve and Bucky returning is bringing up old wounds he’d rather not remember. All his pent up anger is making an appearance. “Funny. I distinctly remember you both saying ‘we’re waiting for our third’ and ‘there isn’t room for you,’ meaning you didn’t want the guy who was actually your soulmate and standing right in front of you and instead were looking for a guy with the same name on your arm.”

“You could have told us!”

“I thought you knew,” Tony barks, his voice rough and heavy, before leaning back on the wall and taking a deep breath. He’s thankful T’Challa isn’t there and seeing this ugly side of him. This pitiful side he thought he buried long ago. “I didn’t think changing my name made a difference and I thought you knew the guy who was trying to get close, to slowly join your space, was your soulmate. I thought you knew so I tried opening up and getting you both used to me. I thought you knew so when you said you were waiting for your third and there was no room for me you were basically telling me a big fat ‘go away.’ I thought you knew and basically didn’t want me. Imagine my surprise when I see on the TV my brother announcing his soulmates Steve and Bucky.”

“We thought it was -” Steve scrunches his face in an ugly manner.

“Yeah, it’s very easy to figure out what you thought. Why did you let that idiot tell the whole world in the first place? Did you even bother to see if he had your names on his arm? Did you even check before letting him do what he wanted?”

“No,” Bucky answers in defeat, “we didn’t check in the beginning. He said he hardly showed anyone the names and didn’t feel comfortable yet. Wore his wrist cuff the entire time. Told us he’d show them when he was ready.”

Tony sighs. “And you believed him.”

“We had no reason not to. We were getting to know ‘im, and we were so excited to find our third.”

“When he finally showed us his wrists our names were on them. We didn’t think anything of it,” Steve says.

“Great, he faked his soul names, and with the resources he has he probably got very convincing ones.”

They nodded.

Nothing Tony could do now. Documentation is one thing. They could prove or disprove with that, but soul names were it. If they cannot be unproven there’d be no way to convince the public Gregory is not their actual soulmate. This will forever haunt them.

Tough luck. Reap what you sow and all that. “Good luck then. Knowing my dear ol’ brother he’s not going to let you both go so easily. Even if you leave he’ll make sure to keep the stories going for a long time. Blame you for the relationship failing and all that.”

Steve and Bucky have visible grief in their eyes. “You’re not going to do something?”

“Not my issue.”

“But… Tony -”

“Not my issue. Take it up with Gregory. He’s your actual soulmate.”

[watch for break]

That made them flinch. Bucky is back to shaking again. “Please, we can’t deal with this alone. Not with him. Please.” He’s gripping his side again, his side that lacks an arm and Tony feels the smallest pity for him. It’s enough to make him feel sorry for them. He hates himself.

“Yeah, and what do you think I can do to help here? I gave up SI. I have nothing on him.”

“You can show everyone your names,” Bucky’s voice has hope now. Hope that Tony is going to crush.

Tony takes off the cuff he wore out of sentimental value, and maybe shame, than necessity. He shows them his scarred wrist with smudges of what used to be Steve and Bucky’s names. Now nothing but lines and blotches. “No can do. As you can see this would prove nothing.”

The two heartbroken faces were lethal and he could swear he almosts sees one of them cry.

“I didn’t do this on purpose,” he informs them, giving them at least that. “It was an accident. Happened while I was drunk and working with a torch. Not one of my greatests ideas. Got tired of everyone looking at me with pity so I wear the cuff to hide it.” He puts the cuff back on. “I can’t help you.”  

He tries to walk away but Bucky grabs his arm gently. Tony yanks it back, making the pair wince. No way is he going to allow that. Not after so long. “Please.” Bucky’s eyes are wide and pleading. “Please. We don’t want this.”

Curse him and his bleeding heart. No matter how much they had hurt him, no one deserves to be stuck with Gregory or get in Gregory’s war path. He didn’t believe T’Challa when he said he had such a big, caring heart, but maybe he did have a point. Dammit, his mother, Pepper and T’Challa are going to kill him. Their freaking wedding is coming up soon and Tony’s considering helping these idiots, but he needs the big guns and that means asking Pepper and T’Challa, who both knew a thing or twenty about handling the press.

He asks them and Pepper naturally looks like she wants to bite his head off. T’Challa seems more reserve, almost hesitant. They brainstorm and find the easiest way to start getting the press to fight against Gregory’s accusations and attempts at bringing Steve and Bucky down is to give the press the perfect image of soulmates in their prime and to throw back Gregory’s words, use them against him. That means Steve and Bucky, the losts souls who got tricked by the evil brother, spending time with the ‘underdog’ Tony who had to look from afar as his ‘true loves’ were taken from him. It’s months of work, months of pretending they were happy, months that’d push back his wedding day and Tony is not having that.

Surprisingly it’s T’Challa that asks him to at least consider it. If Tony was in their situation he’d want help, too. Tony tells him if he ended up in that same situation then he’d deserve it for being so blind and foolish. T’Challa tells him it’s okay, they can move their wedding day back. Tony is not happy about it, but agrees he’d want to escape the clutches of some idiot. Steve and Bucky were prisoners of war at this point. Gregory the ring leader. The press the battlefield.

They don’t have to do much to gain their attention. Steve and Bucky are already big news, leaving Gregory after announcing their soulmate bond. The equivalent of ‘divorcing’ to the public. All Tony has to do is walk down the street with one or both of them. Paparazzi did the rest. And it’s so easy to give that image of united soulmates finally together after years apart, after the ‘evil’ Gregory kept them separated for so long, pretending to be their third, calling himself their third. The press is naturally divided. One side believes the sob story, believes the multi-millionaire would do something like that to get back at his black-sheep brother (which is half the truth), while the other side demands blood, specifically Tony’s blood, for being a homewrecker. These ravenous fans believe the love story of Gregory, Steve and Bucky, thought it had been true love, and refuse to accept it as a lie. These are the ones Tony wants to throw eggs at. He knows it’s not going to be easy, but it sure is a pain in the ass.

To the public they’re either the couple trying to catch up after spending years separated, a tragic but beautiful reunion, or they’re the couple trying to destroy the perfect image of soulmate unions. Steve and Bucky the traitors leaving their soulmate for the brother with the company and the money. ‘Damn golddiggers.’ No matter the view they’re far from the truth. Steve and Bucky are acquaintances at best, nuisances at worse and in the safety of his building Tony doesn’t have to play nice, not when there’s no cameras to show for it.

Then Tony notices T’Challa pulling away from him. “I’m sorry, kitten I don’t think I can make it for dinner,’ ‘I have a meeting today,’ ‘I promised to attend a gala. I’m sorry I can’t bring you but the image you’ve created will be all for naught if you are seen with me.’ Tony sees what’s going on. His fiance is avoiding him and he wants answers.

“If you don’t want to see me anymore all you had to do was say so,” Tony tells him one night when he manages to catch the sneaky man. His arms are crossed defensively, waiting for the blow out.

“That’s not it and you know it.” T’Challa is looking at anything but him.

“Do I? You’ve been avoiding me. You’ve been giving me nothing but excuses. We haven’t spent time together in weeks. If you’re going to lie at least look at me.” T’Challa does but Tony can see the sadness that he tries to mask with confidence. “Why are you doing this? We’ve had our fair share of people pushing us out of their lives so don’t bother lying. I want the truth.”

T’Challa caves, if only because he does understand how it feels having someone they care for push them away. He’s been doing it to Tony without even realizing. Has his reason for it, but bottom line is he’s still doing it. The good cause doesn’t excuse it. “They’re your soulmates.”

“So?” Tony says bluntly.

“They’re here. They’ve come back for you.”

“No, they’re here because they need help. They didn’t come back for me. They’re trying to escape the mess they got themselves in.”

“You do not see the way they look at you. The longing, the regret. They care.”

“And?” Tony continues, not seeing why it’s the reason T’Challa is pulling back. It’s obvious the two soldiers regret what they’ve done. Chasing after a name that landed them under Gregory’s clutches when Tony had been right under their noses. It doesn’t change anything.

“I do not wish to get in the way,” T’Challa has sadness in his eyes now. Tony isn’t having that.

“In the way of what? T’Challa, they may have my name in their arm, they may be trying to right some wrong, but I am not going to let some bullshit decision fate chose for me happen now after I told fate to go fuck itself. I love you, you idiot, and just because they have Anthony Edward Stark on them doesn’t mean I’m about to swoon and fall in their arms the first moment they open the door for me.” Tony moves forward and brings T’Challa in for a hug.

He’s grateful T’Challa returns it. “You are getting a second chance.”

“I could care less about the second chance if it means losing you. Unless you outright reject me for a valid reason like unable to get some sleep because of my snoring or me stealing your socks you’re not getting rid of me.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, but you owe me now for trying to break up with me.”

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5/end]

[nocteverbascio]

Love takes time (we have it) (33/100)

Pairing: Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell Summary: Margaery has always been in love with Sansa and somewhere along the line Sansa fell in love with Margaery. Neither of them know how to say it. But actions speak louder than words. A/N: just to let you know im not dead! i’ve just had writers block im actually planning out more chapter ideas so hopefully more to come!

ao3 link

Chapter 33: It reminded me of you

Summer could not have come sooner (despite going by so quickly, not that Sansa really minds considering she's a bit bored in Winterfell). Sansa had to admit that her second year at KLA was much more tumultuous than she expected it to be. Even if she can’t quite pinpoint her favorite moments, there were definitely moment of high emotions that she will always remember.

Though she could have stayed in King’s Landing and worked at the diner for extra money, her parents feel like they haven’t seen enough of her. And there’d be plenty of work at her father’s office at City Hall.

As happy as she is to move forward from another year in the jungle, Sansa finds herself excited for the upcoming year. She feels more confident and steady in her place at KLA. While she spent a good deal trying to find a place where she belongs, it turns out it doesn’t nearly matter as much as who the company is.

Of course namely Margaery.

Jeyne and Sansa are biking back from a day trip to the Godswood, sharing sandwiches and candy, swimming in the pond, and talking about what’s been happening in Winterfell all summer. According to Jeyne, there are rumors of Sansa’s father being encouraged to take up a special seat on Robert’s council. It’s just one big conspiracy to Jeyne though so Sansa can’t take that seriously.

“I’m telling you, Sans, if he wasn’t a Bolton, he’d just be an ordinary man,” Jeyne goes on riding beside Sansa, trying to gesticulate with one hand on the handlebar. “But otherwise you cannot convince me that he wouldn’t have flayed Lady had I not stepped in.”

“Oh god, Jeyne! Flaying?!” Sansa exclaims. “In this day and age?”

Jeyne looks at her in all seriousness. “We don’t know what he does up in Dreadfort. The name sounds as bad as it looks to be honest. It’s bloody dreadful.”

“What were you doing bringing Lady up there anyway?”

“We were going for a run together and suddenly, Lady took off. I’m lucky I managed to find her.”

Sansa rolls her eyes. “Your adventures are going to get you into trouble one day, Jeyne.”

Jeyne swerves her bike closer to Sansa’s suddenly and Sansa nearly falls off balance, shooting her friend a glare. “It’s so sweet that you care,” Jeyne coyly says as she continues to ride with ease.

Sansa grips her handlebars with a scoff. “Well obviously,” she admits as a matter of fact. “Who else would I trust to take care of Lady?”

Jeyne snorts as she weaves her bike side to side. “There is always Margaery,” she sing songs.

Sansa grimaces.

It’s been like this all summer. Jeyne mentioning Margaery at least once a day, if not once a conversation. Sansa has nothing against Margaery. She really doesn’t. It’s not like it bothers her to be reminded of the best--second best according Jeyne--person she’s ever met, who is nothing but kind and gracious to her. She just doesn’t think it’s necessary to bring up Margaery all the time.

They pull up to the Stark mansion, where Lady is lying down on the front steps, lazily batting her tail from side to side. She raises her head to the sight of her master and jumps up excitedly.

“How is she doing by the way?” Jeyne tries to act coy but she’s terrible at it.  

They park their bikes at the bottom of the steps as Sansa attempts to act like she hasn’t heard the question.

Jeyne knows what that does to Sansa. It riles her up in the worst way. Sansa finds that she has a hard time formulating a sentence or a thought. But she’s learned. She’s had two months of the summer to learn.

“Sansaaaa,” her best friend prods, bumping her shoulders as they make it up the steps to where Lady is happily panting for Sansa’s attention. “Give me the juicy details.”

“There’s nothing juicy. She’s fine,” Sansa responds nonchalantly. “She’s traveling in America with her family currently.”

“Wow, you cannot tell me there isn’t anything juicy. Have you seen those American boys? They’re all gorgeous with their six pack abs and hilarious accents.”

Sansa rolls her eyes as she bends down to scratch Lady’s head. “If there are any boys, I wouldn’t know, Margaery never mentions any to me.” Not that it matters to her, they can go conversations without ever mentioning a boy. Even if boys do come up in conversations, it’s Margaery wondering if Sansa has any boy in mind. She wonders if she should start asking Margaery if she has any boy in mind.

“Speak of the devil,” Jeyne suddenly voices.

Sansa looks up and sees Jeyne holding a package up at the door. She leaves Lady, who follows excitedly to see as well.

The package fits in Sansa’s arms comfortably and luckily it isn’t too heavy but according to the label it is at least 5 kg and most definitely from Margaery, with her neat script written on the box. Sansa doesn’t open it right away, as much as she’s dying to know what’s inside.

She moves inside the mansion and drops the box on the dining room table to find a razor to open it up. Jeyne is thrumming with excitement.

And it definitely doesn’t stop the onslaught of teasing.

“Isn’t she a sweetheart?” Jeyne croons as she hovers around Sansa curiously. “Sending you gifts from across an ocean. If only I had someone who liked me enough to send me gifts from America. To take the time in the midst of those gorgeous men to think of me.”

Sansa cuts into the box, narrowing her eyes at Jeyne. It doesn’t stop the blush on her cheeks though and Jeyne sees this.

“She really is a good girlfriend, if you can’t even tell me I’m wrong.”

“Ohmygod,” Sansa exasperates. “She’s not my girlfriend.” She tears open the flaps to the box to pull out the wrapping and bags of air. Her heart swells at the contents.

There’s a note sitting on top of what looks to be stacks of chocolate and other candies that Sansa has been dying to try since Margaery’s mentioned them to her. Sansa picks up the note and sees Margaery’s neat handwriting on the plain sheet.

It reminded me of you. Try not to eat so many, wouldn’t want your tummy to hurt. -Margaery

Sansa smiles to herself, hearing Margaery’s sarcasm clearly in her mind. She sets the note aside before pulling out the bars marked Hershey, apparently there are several types and Sansa’s dying to try out the cookies and creme when she sees it. Underneath the chocolate there are plenty marked M&Ms and Skittles. She loves them all and can’t deny the fluttering sensation in her chest.

“Good lord, it looks like she bought the whole bloody shop for you,” Jeyne says as Sansa hands her a couple of bags. “She’s enabling your sugar addiction!”

“I thought you were saying it was sweet of her to send me a gift,” Sansa cheekily quips.

Sansa hums to herself happily as she unpacks the box. Jeyne scrunches her nose in disgust. “I’m regretting that now, clearly.”