#just going to… quietly apologize for marty here. that man was a struggle to get down even semi-accurately

[mr-snailman]

/ just call me angel of the morning, angel

so it’s been a rough month! but @truelovedetective’s amazing fics have gotten me through so many bad nights. what can I say, visions of country domesticity and Old Men In Love have me in a chokehold. I wanted to draw something to express how absolutely fucking nuts this epic romance makes me.

read the fic that inspired this here. that’s an order.

[sammy-writes-stuff]

The Stranger, Ch 16

Chapter Sixteen: Yellow

Start.  Previous.

TW: (but also spolier alert), mentions of death, slight panic, mild violence, Deceit finally comes to the table.

The next few days went past in a blur of pain for Carrie, and she spent most of her time hunched over a toilet bowl.

Thomas had been more than a little weirded out by the prospect when Virgil had first told him.

“I feel like I’m going crazy.” He admitted, massaging his temples gingerly. He just didn’t want to think about it anymore…it was too weird.

Virgil nodded sadly, feeling pretty lost on what to do. He had given Carrie the picture he had made with her on her first full day in the mind palace, and she had hung it above her bed. He was growing accustomed to having a neutral third party around, who he could hang out without worrying too much. But…if she was actually alive…that changed things. Surely, a period could indicate that?

Virgil didn’t like to see others in pain, so had tried – in his own way – to cheer Carrie up. He brought art supplies to her room, and together they calmly drew in a comfortable silence, listening to Virgil’s music. Carrie was a big fan of Twenty-One Pilots, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance and Green Day, which were all favourites of the dark side and rarely appreciated by the others.

Anything that didn’t involve moving too much or talking was fine by Carrie, though there was an awkward moment that resulted from one of the songs playing.

And if your heart stops beating

I'll be here wondering

Did you get what you deserve?

The ending of your life

Virgil hummed lightly along to the lyrics but stopped when he felt the atmosphere get a little colder. Looking up from his patch on the floor, he saw that Carrie had gone a little white. Virgil scrambled to grab her bucket, but the movement broke her out of her stupor.

Have you heard the news that you're dead?

No one ever had much nice to say

I think they never liked you anyway

Oh, take me from the hospital bed

“Oh…thanks dude. I’m feeling okay, it’s just…” She gave a strained groan, and Virgil felt his hands start to sweat and his breathing hitch with panic. “This song hits a little close to home.” She laughed and shook away the thoughts in her head.

Tongue-tied and, oh, so squeamish

You never fell in love

Did you get what you deserve?

The ending of your life

Virgil groaned, and started reeling off an endless line of apologies, while Carrie tried to assure him that it was fine, and that Dead was actually one of her favourite MCR songs and she still enjoyed it and she wasn’t upset and she shouldn’t have said anything and it wasn’t your fault and it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay…

He was slightly more mindful of what exactly was on his playlist from then on.

Roman’s response to the whole event had become a running joke, however.

Patton would spread jam on his toast at breakfast, then look up in shock and say: “I’VE BEEN STABBED!?”

Every time Virgil passed him in the hallway, he would point to the Prince’s red sash and loudly exclaim: “YOU’VE BEEN STABBED?!”

Logan had tried to jump on the bandwagon, but as usual found it irresistible to tweak the phrase.

“YOU’VE BEEN IMPALED!?” Was his response to the Prince spilling strawberry jelly on his shirt.

“Did you just quote Frozen?” The Prince bit back, now rather thoroughly over the joke.

“No.” Logan grumbled.

“You nearly did.” Patton said with a giggle.

But every night, Roman conjured an armchair, and slept in Carrie’s room. He could not shake his uneasy feeling, and Carrie didn’t seem to mind, so he saw no harm on being thorough.

Patton also couldn’t shake the foreboding feeling that had lodged in his stomach since the blanket incident. He also kept a close eye on the girl, and started to check upstairs almost every day.

Carrie was relieved when the period passed. She hadn’t liked feeling so needy. The first time she left her room however, she got a bit of a shock.

She had changed into her blue Hamilton-inspired outfit, but as she stepped out…it started to fade off her. Carrie let out a strangled yell, and jumped back into her room, closing the door.

Looking down…the outfit looked fine. Carrie opened the door, and just stuck a leg out this time. Sure enough, the tights started to fade instantly.

“HEY MMPH -” Carrie began to call out for assistance, but felt her windpipe close. She coughed, and looked around. Her room was empty, but she didn’t feel alone.

~

Carrie arrived late to dinner, which was the first odd thing Patton noticed. The second, was that Carrie was wearing the pink princess dress they had found her in. She looked a little dazed, and very tired.

“You feeling okay kiddo?” Patton asked, his voice forcibly cheery.

“Umm…yeah.” Carrie shook her head, as if trying to clear it. Sitting down, she grabbed a bowl of spaghetti and began to tuck in. After a moment, she noticed that all four sides were staring at her. “I’m sorry…it’s been an intense few days…and Roman snores really loud…” She frowned a little, wondering why she had felt the need to say that. Roman was now shifting awkwardly underneath a classic Patton-stare.

Virgil narrowed his eyes slightly.

 “I do apologise, Ms Fern.” Roman sighed. “I was just concerned, I will refrain from joining you tonight.”

Carrie didn’t seem to hear.

The five finished dinner in silence, then Carrie bid her goodnights.

The four looked at each other.

“Something’s not right.” Virgil said, eventually.

“It could just be the hormones from the previous few days?” Logan offered, sounding unconvinced.

“She’s twenty-two, not fifteen.” Virgil said grumpily.

“You are the last person to criticise someone for acting like a teenager, Marty Mc’Cry.”

“I’m trying to say that you are in the right here, Princey.” Virgil bit back.

Roman paused, looking legitimately shocked. “Thank you…Verge.”

There was silence, and Patton started to clear up. Logan disappeared to his room to document this latest development.

“I’m going to stay up, and check on her every now and then.” Roman said suddenly, looking at Virgil to gauge his response.

Virgil and Patton shared a look. Neither wanted to invade her privacy, but their sole duty was to make sure Thomas was fine. They both nodded sadly, and went to bed without much more discussion.

Roman changed into his Tigger onesie, and settled in with a cup of coffee at the kitchen table. It seemed to be the place where he would be least likely to succumb to sleep, but even then, he found his head drooping occasionally…

Roman woke with a start, and with a curse jerked his head up from the table, grimacing at the pool of drool he had created. He jumped up after looking at the clock, and carefully hurried down the hall.

It was already 5:30 am. How could he be so careless to shirk his duties?

With rising trepidation, the Prince slowly opened the yellow door at the end of the hallway. Roman breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Carrie snuggled in her bed, looking content. He conjured his armchair in its usual spot, and closed the door quietly. He had barely sat down when he tensed.

“I always did admire your stubbornness.”

Roman stood quickly, sword in hand. The voice belonged to a side clad in black and yellow, who had just appeared before him. Carrie stirred, but the intruder waved his gloved hand towards her and a translucent wall sprung up between them and her.

“Deceit.” Roman hissed through gritted teeth.

“Good evening, Roman. You look very dashing in your Tigger costume, I must say.” He smirked.

“Thank you.” Roman wasn’t one to reject a compliment, no matter who it came from. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you can’t seriously expect me not to be curious?” Deceit laughed, looking at the sleeping guest with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Also, the colour scheme of the room was practically an invitation.”

Roman looked around at the patches of yellow wall that Carrie had yet to paint.

“Do you know anything about this?” Roman asked suddenly.

Deceit shrugged. Roman rolled his eyes – the man was maddening.

“You know, there are some gentlemen upstairs who would love to welcome this parasite.” Deceit turned his head to the door, showing Roman the snake side of his face. Roman swallowed.

“We don’t need any trouble. She isn’t a danger to Thomas.”

“Oooh, is that a challenge?”

“Leave, before I kick your ass.” Roman growled and took a step forward, ready to fight.  

“I’m shaking in my boots.” Deceit drawled, looking unimpressed. The room shook a little, and Roman looked around wearily.

“What are you doing?” He tried not to sound panicked, looking to Carrie. His split-second lapse of concentration provided an opening for Deceit.

With another flippant wave of his hand, Deceit sent a force that threw Roman backwards. He grunted in pain as his back hit the wall, falling down into the armchair he had conjured and dropping his sword with the impact.

Roman groaned, as he lifted his head…

Behind the wall Deceit had conjured that cut him off for Carrie, was a flickering light…

It pulsated, once…twice…thrice…

Roman felt himself being picked up again by Deceit’s invisible force, this time being dragged forward. As he struggled, he saw a familiar face form from the pulsating light…

He gave a yell as Deceit opened Carrie’s bedroom door, and he tipped his bowler hat as the force threw Roman unceremoniously into the hallway…

His last image was Deceit waving a sarcastic goodbye as he flew through the air, as behind Deceit, Roman could see a very confused Thomas looked around wildly, clearly panicked. Roman hit the opposite wall and slid down, unconscious, still in his Tigger onesie…as the yellow door slammed shut.

Virgil sat up in his bed, drenched in sweat, and started to have a panic attack.

Next.