#lots of thoughts to get off my chest. yeesh

[numbknee]

Why do you think Kyman gets so much hate? I can understand some things about what people don’t like about it but some of the things they say, the harassment is so out of pocket. Especially on Tik Tok! It is like a battle ground out there and they all will shoot you down immediately if you SAY anything. I just wanna love Kyman without it seeming like a punishment 😭😭

Dude I totally feel you. It's so much easier to live and let live so I don't understand how these ppl have the energy to be so aggressively hurtful all the time. This has been said before ad nauseum but for god's sake, it's JUST a fucking tv show. I'm too old for this shit.

(longer explanation under the cut! like... extremely long lol I'm so sorry my thoughts about this have been building up for a while 😅)

I think the extremely aggressive kyman hate is a symptom of growing poor media literacy and the larger "purity culture" trend that's been present online for a while now. It's very reminiscent of American Evangelicalism or Puritanism, where members of the church have to follow a very specific set of rules for behaving and thinking and if you deviate from those rules in the slightest, you're shot down immediately by the community and shamed for being sinful and blasphemous, all to keep you on the "righteous path" and avoid burning in hell for eternity. This is why so many puritanical christians in the US hate themselves for doing what most of the world sees as normal behavior, and simultaneously force that self-hating worldview onto others to "save" them. (For example see this video by FD Signifier on youtube explaining how hardcore religious ppl/conservatives are doomed to be bad in bed because they see sex as "evil" when in reality it's a normal part of human behavior 😬 It's long but very good).

Though, it's important to note that ppl who think this way may not even be christian themselves, but the behavior is so pervasive in american culture that you absorb it even if you're not a puritanical christian. (for example, to quote Ian Danskin, athiests may think "I don't believe in god, but the god I don't believe in is Jehovah). Tons of the first generation of white USAmericans were exiled British puritans who were kicked out of their home country for essentially being self-righteous assholes and trying to force their shit worldview on everyone else lmao. And I think because so many online spaces are so USAmerican-centric, people from all over the world have started adopting that purity culture as well.

Now, South Park is extremely popular (duh). It's been around for decades so it has a ton of fans both old and new. Unfortunately a lot of new fans, especially young people, follow the show for very different reasons than the average normie/not-terminally-online viewer does. They take the characters out of their original context, use them like dolls to make their own stories and fan content, and ignore all the other blatantly controversial shit that's been going on in the show since day 1 (which is why so many exclusively make blasé creek fanworks imo). They want to keep their thoughts "pure" and only engage with content that's approved by the puritanical online community

It's extremely fitting but also sad that Cartman is the scapegoat for everything wrong with South Park, both in the show and in the real world. Either ppl don't want to acknowledge he exists, or ppl latch onto him and project all of that puritanical hatred toward him or anyone that likes his character. Hell, even I'M guilty of this kind of thinking before I watched the show and understood Cartman's character better.

Kyman in particular is a target BECAUSE it involves Cartman, but also because people boil it down to shipping a nazi with a jew which, at the surface level, seems horrible! But if you've ever actually WATCHED the goddamn show, you know that is an extremely reductive and inaccurate interpretation of their characters. It's horribly poor media literacy. These ppl CANNOT seem to comprehend that you can enjoy watching a character who's a "bad person" without condoning their actions, and that enjoying the shipping dynamic of such characters DOES NOT make you a bad person by proxy.

A huge role of fiction as media is to explore ideas that may be harmful in the real world in a safe way because... *gasp* it's imaginary!! It makes you think and experience emotions you may not have the opportunity for otherwise! However, in the eyes of puritans, the fact you're even thinking about something like that makes you a sinner. It's a thought crime, which is why they consider us mentally "sick" for shipping kyman. So, they send hate at the drop of a hat and publicly vilify kyman shippers to reinforce that behavior with each other, all to say "Hey look at me!!! I'm a Good Person! see how much of a Good Person I am??? I'm gonna go to HEAVEN, and YOU'RE going to HELL". Like I said before, it's not that they necessarily believe in heaven or hell, but that's the general root of the behavior. It's performative puritan dog-piling. Also, because they haven't even fucking watched the whole show, they conveniently ignore all the other horrible shit the show portrays because random kyman shippers online are easy targets while Matt & Trey are gajillionaires who are essentially un-cancellable for things they do on the show at this point because, to quote Trey: For anyone to go up and go "Did you see this thing on South Park? That was really offensive" someone's gonna be like "Dude shut up 😒 that's just South Park".

Geez man this got super fucking long lmao. But my advice is to please take care of yourself because, and this super cliché to say, but FUCK the haters dude 🖕🖕🖕 You're engaging with media that brings you joy and exploring interesting ideas with a community of awesome artists/writers/meta-analysts and more. This is supposed to be FUN!! Anyone who tries to take that away from you or shame you into stopping is a fucking immature, holier-than-thou asshole who needs to get a fucking life. The block button is your friend, so use it early and often. You have the power to curate your own online space, and you shouldn't subject yourself to dealing with these dickheads (this is a big reason why I don't have a tiktok lol)

Good luck dude, and keep on shipping kyman 😎🤘❤️💚

[jedipoodoo]

Singin' In The Rain (Sergeant Hunter x Reader)

Obligatory wet hair Hunter screenshot courtesy of @saltyseaturtle bc tunglr won't let me add any good gifs

Notes: Idiots in Love(TM), dividers by @ve-ti-ver and @freesia-writes. Hunter listens to Dad Rock almost exclusively and sounds amazing.

"Finally, a bed!" You sighed in relief, shoving past Wrecker into Clone Force Ninety-Nine's bunkroom. After six months straight of switcing out the smelly bunks on the Marauder, you were ready for an actual mattress and a pillow to sleep on. You tossed your medikit on the floor and took a flying leap onto the bed closest to the door, armor and all.

"You do realize that's my bed, right sweetheart?" Hunter asked.

"And what of it? You're gonna be up writing reports all night anyway," You shrugged, hugging his pillow to your chest. It had been immaculately made up with military corners before you landed on it and mussed all the sheets.

Hunter sauntered over, resting his arm against the bedframe above his head, "Well, I was hoping to write the reports from the comfort of my own bed."

"Yeesh! Get a room!" Crosshair flicked a toothpick that hit the back of Hunter's head, and you giggled as Hunter glared at his brother. Tech settled himself comfortably at his work table in the center of the room, and Wrecker just grinned, all three of them daring Hunter to say something. You wondered why it took him so long to actually move, until finally, he stood up and stepped away from his bed.

"Alright lads, I'm gonna hit the showers," Hunter said, stretching out his back with the groan of a man twice his physical age, "The rest of you should probably do the same."

"Yeah, sure thing, Sarge!" Wrecker said, with a distracted tone that meant he probably wasn't going to get around to it. Tech waved him off, and Crosshair had already draw the curtains around the enclosure around his bed that he'd made with spare crates. Hunter rolled his eyes, grabbed a towel and his shower gear, and disappeared into the refresher.

With everyone settled, the room quieted, which was a stark contrast to the usual volume on the Marauder. Everyone knew that Hunter loved his shower time, especially when they had fresh running water. He could take hours you scrub the dirt from his sensitive skin and get his hair properly conditioned. If hunter got first shower, it was a safe bet that no one else would get in a shower that evening, even if he didn't end up using all of Tipoca City's hot water supply.

Wrecker began snoring in his bunk almost immediately, but it took Tech almost an hour before he finally fell asleep on top of his work project. You'd removed your armor to lie down more comfortably, but you couldn't quite get to sleep.

You and Hunter shared a lot of things, including but not limited to--canteens, blankets, blaster polish, personal space, even a ration bar or two. Living on a cramped ship got you very up close and personal with the rest of the crew, but was it really okay for you to take his own bed? You ran through the conversation again and again. You could almost swear Hunter was playing along with you, but you were still new enough to the squad as their medic that your place among the boys, these brothers, was still uncertain.

In the midst of your whirlpool of thoughts, another sound broke through the incessant white noise of the Kaminoan rain. It sounded like someone singing, but Wrecker snored again before you could make it out. When Wrecker paused to take a deep breath, you heard it again, and it was coming from the refresher unit.

You sat up on Hunter's bunk, and the lights, automatically dimmed from the lack of movement, turned on suddenly. You sprinted to the door to shut them off before they could wake up Tech. Already on your feet, you might as well listen closely.

Quietly, you made your way to the door of the refresher, kneeling beside the doorframe to listen. The tile was great for the acoustics, and despite the sound of rushing water, you could hear Hunter's voice singing loud and clear.

He was singing an emotional ballad from one of those rock bands your father always had playing. Kids at school called it lame, mostly just because anything that an adult enjoyed couldn't be interesting, but with Hunter singing the lyrics, it became so much more meaningful to you. The emotion in his voice was passionate as he sang about being in love with someone and being willing to do anything for them.

This one was your favorite as a kid. Most of the songs by this band were sad, lonely ballads about losing the love of their life. this one was just as emotional, but definitely had a happier ending.

Unknowingly, you started singing along, providing the melody to his beautiful tenor. You were so enamored by the music you and Hunter were both making that you didn't realize that the water had stopped running.

Hunter at least had the courtesy to let you finish the song, but no sooner had you crooned the final note than the door to the fresher slid open, and there stood Hunter, water dripping down his bare chest with a towel draped around his shoulders. You felt the heat rising in your cheeks.

"Hi?" You whispered, more of a question than a greeting.

"Hey," Hunter leaned against the doorframe.

Your eyes darted to avoid meeting his, but they were instantly drawn to a single drop of water slowly running down his chest and over his tummy, which hung out a bit over the waistband of his trousers. You quickly looked back up.

"See something you like?" Hunter asked with a grin. You leaped to your feet as if you were going to run away, but instead you rammed your head right into his nose.

"Kark!" You gasped, holding your head. It was sore, but you hardly had a bruise. Hunter had his nose pinched shut in a pre-emptive move to stem the flow of blood.

"Shoot, Hunter, I'm so sorry, let me take a look."

"I-it's not broken," Hunter tried to tell you.

"I'll be the judge of that," You grabbed a washcloth from the refresher and dragged him back over to the bunk, prying his hand from his nose. After prodding it this way and that, it was evident that Hunter's nose wasn't broken. This time, at least.

"I'm sorry, Hunter," You whispered, trying not to wake his brothers now that the coast was clear.

"You're fine," He waved it off, but accepted the ice pack you pulled from your bag and leaned back against the wall, "I shouldn't have come on so strong."

You froze, sitting just a foot away.

"You were coming onto me?"

Hunter froze, and you watched his throat bob nervously.

"Yeah. That's...if you're okay with it?" He mumbled.

You fisted your hand around the cushioning of Hunter's pillow. Here you were sitting in his bunk, and Hunter was asking you if you were okay flirting with him?

A toothpick shot across the room and hit the side of your head.

"If the two of you are going to make out, would you please get back in the shower?"

"Cross!" Hunter lobbed the ice pack in return and the sniper retreated back into his nest. Tech snorted in his sleep, and Wrecker mumbled something about a gundark's mother, but neither of them seemed to wake up.

Hunter studied each of his brothers to make sure you had adequate privacy before looking back to you.

You gave a little giggle and Hunter huffed a laugh through his nose, only to wince in pain.

"You sure you're okay?" You asked. Your hand was on his shoulder for a reassuring touch before you remembered he wasn't wearing a shirt.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," He promised. You felt warm again. In this recent revelation, his usual nickname for you didn't feel as casual as you'd assumed it was.

"Yeah," you said softly.

"Yeah what?" Hunter said. His amber eyes were making you dizzy.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm okay with you flirting with me." You said lamely.

This wasn't how big romantic moments were supposed to go, right? You weren't supposed to hit your lover in the nose when he tried to make a move on you, and you certainly weren't supposed to sound like a blubbering Hutt when you finally accepted his advances.

Despite all the "supposed to's", Hunter smiled up at you, his face alight with joy. It was evident that the Bad Batch's penchant for disregarding the rules applied to their love lives too.

"Your voice sounded really pretty," He said, sitting up and scooting a bit closer to you on the mattress. He wasn't quite touching you, but his hand rested next to yours.

"Oh please," you rolled your eyes, "I sound like a mynock when I sing."

"Don't say that," Hunter said. His voice was soft in volume, but sharp in tone. You had no choice but to meet his impassioned gaze.

He was trembling slightly. You could see it in the droplets of water that clung to his stray locks of damp hair. Bravely, he lifted a hand to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"I love listening to you sing." He said.

He couldn't keep making you spiral like this. If he kept saying things like this to you, you were going to faint on his karking bed.

"Well," You scooted closer, knee to knee, with a hand on his thigh. His eyes went wide and his breathing hastened as you leaned in, his nose nearly touching yours.

"I could say the same for you, Sergeant Hunter. Anyone ever tell you that you have the voice of an angel of Iego?"

"N-no, n-never came up before." Hunter's hands twitched, unsure of where to put them.

Jackpot.

You took one of his hands, guiding it to the mattress to help him balance himself, and place the other on your waist. You held his hands in place, unwilling to let go. The two of you sat there, until your breathing synchronized.

In, and out. In, and out.

It was actually kind of nice, even if it was a bit awkward.

"What happens now?" Hunter asked.

"I...dunno," You whispered, "I guess we could kiss."

Your faces were so close you almost missed his eyebrows shooting up. He quickly looked around the bunkroom, wondering if any of his brothers had heard your offer.

"Do...do you want to kiss?" Hunter asked.

Had it been all you could dream about since you first met Hunter? Yes. Were you thinking clearly enough in this moment? No.

"It might be a little too soon for that." You gave Hunter his hands back, sitting back on the bunk.

The tension vanished from Hunter's shoulders, "Oh, right."

It was impossible to miss the disappointment in his tone as he toweled off his hair, tossing the wet towel onto Tech's table and kicking aside various accoutrements in the search for a shirt that fit him.

You bit your lip, "That doesn't mean kissing is entirely off the table, though."

"It's not?" Hunter stopped with his head halfway through one of Crosshair's shirts.

You interwove your fingers, stretching them back and forth, "I...this was nice."

He nodded quickly, "Yeah, I thought it was nice too."

"You're both nice. Now shut up and let the rest of us sleep." Crosshair snarled from a cocoon of blankets that weren't his.

"Shut up!"

You snickered, holding Hunter's pillow on your lap, and Hunter marched back over to the bunk.

"I...suppose you want your bed back tonight," You said, even as you tucked your feet up underneath yourself.

Hunter shrugged, and you could see that his shoulders were far too broad for the tight fit of Crosshair's body glove.

"I think the phrase is, some people will...sing for their supper."

You glared at him. "You wouldn't dare."

Hunter raised his hands in a display of vulnerability, "Only if you want to."

You sighed, almost resigning yourself you another night of sleeping on the unforgiving floor, when you got your own brilliant idea.

"Only if you sing with me."

"That's not how this works-" Hunter tried to protest.

"Isn't it?" You teased, batting your lashes up at him, "You wouldn't have heard me singing if you hadn't been the one singing in the first place."

Hunter's hand came out of nowhere, but his touch was as gentle as the fur of a newborn tooka as he tilted your chin up to look at him.

"You drive a hard bargain, sweetheart."

This bastard knew exactly what he could do to you. Fortunately, you knew just how to drive him crazy in return. Before he could react, you placed your hand on his arm and gave him a sharp tug, pulling him down to lay on the bed beside you.

"Takes two to tango, Sarge."

Hunter was speechless as he stared into your eyes. You turned to settle into bed, but Hunter grabbed you by the shoulder, "We made a deal," He whispered in your ear. He smelled like the sharp pines of Kashyyyk, not at all like the generic soap and shampoo the GAR handed out.

Crazy indeed.

You rolled on your side to face him, untucking his blanket to wrap yourself up.

"What song did you have in mind?"

Hunter mulled it over for a bit, giving you the chance to admire the little wrinkle that appeared between his eyes when he was deep in thought. When he finally sang the first words of his chosen song, soft and hiding in the back of his throat so as not to disturb his brothers, it was another love ballad. You had to appreciate his taste in songs. This one was about two lovers, determined to weather any storm with their partner by their side. You'd appreciated it when it was first released. Never did you imagine that you'd sing it with a partner of your own.

True to your word, you sang with Hunter, letting him pull you closer until your head rested on his chest, his heartbeat keeping time for your song.

You fell asleep before you could finish the bridge, feeling warm and content with Hunter. And he certainly didn't mind.

[nutzworth]

DAY 5: JANUARY 31, 2024 (i got to start reading more consistently.)

STATS: read for ~3 hrs pages read: 1052-1359. 307 pgs. act 4! slur count: 8 + 1 = 9 (john r slur on 1 of his defaced posters) silly count: 11 + 0 = 11 (i might have missed some. to be honest) piss count: 1/3

THOUGHTS: today started with john's alchemizing spree! i really like the alchemy even though i can NOT understand how the binary and codes quite work. john does though. johns really smart about alchemy in sburb specifically. this section also has a lot of funny john faces. i love this guy

FINALLY the end of dave and bros strife! jesus! been 2 sessions sicne it started! i said this last time but i think its SO INTERESTING how bro doesnt cut or stab dave in any way during the strife. they clash and lil cal gets torn up and daves sword gets 1/2ed and daves SYMBOL gets scratched but when hussie shows dave after the fight hes winded and bruised and battered but hes NOTABLY NOT BLOODY! obviously being bruised cus youre FIGHTING! WITH YOUR DAD! is bad and your dad (bro) is a criminal but. man. how much restraint was bro USING. to be SO PRECISE! did he have to choose between slashing dave and slashing cal in that split second? why else would he possibly have slashed cal? for paradox reasons? i really like dirk strider

the unofficial homestuck collection website is bugging out SO BAD for me. for so many flashes today the music just did not play. it SUCKS! but its fine i just play the music in another tab. i hope they fix that but i know its not priority

i really like the few dave logs i read today. dave is sooooo sad puppy on the other side of a cracked door that sees you and wants to get in the room but cant figure out how to push open the door so he just whines. "hello" "what are you doing" "man where are you" "are you there" he is so cute. in contrast the other dave log today was DAVE AND TAVROS!!!! HOORAY FOR TAVROS! and dave in this one is really funny hes so nonchalant and like "no man. if you want to have sex with a 13 yr old boy okay dude. im on board. time and place." and tavros is like UM! NO! IM GOOD! HAHA! }:) ! they are so funny. the striders are SO internet troll. dave does it flawlessly

KANAYA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE KANAYA! SHES MY FAVORITE TROLL! shes so awesome in the kanaya/rose log she is so funny. start talking to this girl like "humans cant understand time travel when its really so simple youre all kind of dumb" and ending with "hey we should be friends". i literally love her

EXILES! not much happened with the exiles. introduced to aimless renegade. what a cop. pa harley heart! thanks for your guns pa!

THE FLASH WHEN ROSE ENTERS THE GAME IS SO COOOOOL!!!!!!!!! i really really like it unfortunately the sound didnt work so all the beats didnt hit quite right but they hit ENOUGH. SO COOL! I LOVE ROSE!!!! theres so much going on all the time for that girl. i love you rose

INTERMISSION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i really like the intermission i think its so fun trying to parse what the hell is happening. i have GOT to read problem sleuth because so many of the things i find funny are straight up just problem sleuth bits

hussie averting the readers expectations with the like You have a deck of cards. ==> play solitaire With what cards? Dumbass? Fuck off. You only have your WAR CHEST. i think this is hussie like softdropping his rivalry with his audience. it starts with silly banter and then hes like im going to make a character representing the fandom and im going to kill her off (calliope)

the felt are SO COOL! if anyone knows all the pun names for them lmk. i only know a few obvious ones.

the intermission is SO gory. theres so much blood and death and guns and knives. like ok dude i get youre in mafia gangs or whatever but cool it on the blood and yucky faces! yeesh! there is also more crude jokes in it than normal i think. maybe cus these are real adults with pornography in their briefcases than like 13 yr olds. "jack king off" "you beat it(your heart) pretty often" "fist full of penis" etc

you kjnow what drives me crazy. the ACTUAL REAL TIMELINE of the intermission. or at least what it means for the rest of the comic. obviously the intermission is foreshadowing (esp when slick gets his eye and arm cut off; mentioning lord english; etc) but like. its MORE. when i first read homestuck i was under the impression that the intermission was just some other timeline in some universe. granted i dont remember slicks eye and arm getting nixed or karkat vantas reveal or lord english mention or anything that foreshadows anything. but NO! its NOT some other timeline! but it IS another universe. its ALTERNIA!!!!!!!!!!!

the story of jack noir (spades slick) as i know it is as follows: jack noir spawns in derse ==> commits a crime (probably shittalking the queen) ==> gets exiled to... um. somewhere. ==> i assume he meets karkat here? and stabs him. and karkats blood is revealed and then theyre friends ==> slick (now scurrilous straggler) is left on the green moon? exiled in rags ==> he builds a city ==> the felt's mansion is there also. they form gangs and become rivals ==> intermission starts; midnight crew infiltrates lord english's lair to get the vault prizes ==> slick goes in the vault and begins commanding karkat. if im wrong about any of this correct me im so curious

i really like clubs deuce and diamonds droog. i wish crowbar was in the intermission more. clover is just like nagito komaeda. trace and fin are insaaaane. i wish i knew more about the felt

ACT 4! GAME!!!!! game on lowas. its really cool i didnt get to play it my first readthrough. love the salamanders and love the captchalogue nonsense. it is so fun. thats all for today folks

[shatteredvioletnuzlocke]

Chapter 10: Flames that Burn, Flames that Bind (Tamarind)

The sun’s rays were gentle the next morning and barely touched Tamarind’s scales. Who was he to complain? Little sunlight was better than no sunlight. 

He felt the grass moist with morning dew but he made sure to not lie in any exposed spots of dirt. For the Fuecoco, the mud of the earth was a dangerous element that would put out his body warmth and blind his eyes. But not as dangerous as water, the only element that could dowse his flame and could make him freeze. Yet he knew as long as stayed away from those dangers he would be safe to enjoy the luxuries the world had to offer. 

That’s the spot, Tamarind thought as he felt as light intensify on his back, Sweet, sweet, sunshine. But then a familiar stench entered his nose.

“Don’t I get enough of you snoring at night?!” Kombucha interrupted.

Tamarind opened one eye and saw that the Lechonk’s wrinkled face was smushed with anger. 

“Get up!” Kombucha snorted, “I need your help with something!”

“Okay…” Tamarind said as he stretched his lower back, “What da need me for?” Guess sunbathing can happen later. 

“I heard you know Disarming Voice,” the hog grunted, “You think you can help me practice mine?”

The Fuecoco nodded back and gave his teammate space to perform his attack. Kombucha turned himself back and repositioned himself in his usual fighting stance.

 He took in a large breath and belted out a lousy scream, “BRAHHHH!”, a single heart-shaped soundwave emitted from his mouth. The pink outline of it shook and fell apart as soon as it grew larger.

Tamarind didn’t need a visual soundwave to hear such an off-key note, Baritones don’t know their own strength. 

“Here…” the Fuecoco rolled his throat, “It goes like this,” he sang in a soft pitch, “Rahhh…ahhh,” he let out his disarming voice and emitted a pattern of soundwaves that were bold and brighter in color. “Try not to raise your voice so much. A disarming voice should be dulcet.”    

Taking in Tamarind’s criticism, Kombucha kept his voice quieter and mimicked the way he harmonized, “Rahhh…” First, the soundwave was more of a heart, but the second one he made seemed to shatter by the weight of his groggy voice. 

Yeesh, Tamarind cringed, he needs a lot of work.

“This is stupid,” Kombucha snuffed, “Lechonks are supposed to learn this move naturally, why is it so easy for you?”

Tamarind immediately thought back to memories of his mother singing lullabies to him and his brothers every night. Her voice carried a soothing decrescendo that cradled his mind. Sing like your mother? He proposed to himself. 

“How about this?” he suggested, “Try doing some vocal warm-ups, mi mi mi mi mi!” 

“Whatever,” Kombucha rolled his eyes, “How about I practice my tackles, instead? Care to spar with me?” 

Kombucha was always outspoken for his love of battling or “wrangling” as he called it. Tamarind figured that it came from a need to prove himself strong in front of their trainer, but maybe there was more to it than that.  

“Alright, sure…” Tamarind sighed, “You need me to attack back?”

“Please do,” Kombucha smiled. 

The two backed away from each other for proper space. I better not use my embers, Tamarind reminded himself looking upon the flammable grass, our trainer is in enough trouble as it is. 

“Ready!” The Fuecoco announced. 

Without speaking Kombucha began to dash toward Tamarind, his hooves pattering against the ground.

“Rah, Ahhhh,” Tamarind chanted another disarming voice.

His singing was enough to stumble the Lechonk back a little bit, but he kept on determined as ever. Oh boy, here he comes! Tamarind held his claws out to brace the impact. Then he felt Kombucha’s body stroke against his chest.

“Oof!”  the Fuecoco was thrown aback, “Not, ba-OW!” a shocking surprise attack pelted his head and it was wet.

Tamarind got up and wiped something goopy off his face, and it came off dirty and brown on his red hand. Oh no Mud! 

“I thought you said you were gonna practice your Tackle, not your Mud Slap?!” Tamarind yelled, a little irritated.

“That wasn’t my Mud Slap…” Kombucha sniffed the ground.

He could here something rustling through the grass and a familiar voice, “Shree-he-he!” 

“Arturo?” Tamarind asked the grass, “Was that you?!” 

The little Shroodle sprang out of the grass with a sneering remark, “I gotcha!”

“Please don’t use ground-type moves against me, they could kill me!” Tamarind lectured him.

Arturo was mischievous but playful. Tamarind understood that he didn’t know any better, and that he was just another little brother to look after.

“But Kombucha did it yesterday!” The little shrew wined.

“Save it for the battlefield, kid!” Kombucha retorted.

“I like battling!” Arturo squeaked scampering around the Lechonk in circles, “It’s so much fun!”

“Wrangling, ain’t play!” Kombucha rambled on, “It’s about dominating your opponents and teaching 'em who’s boss!”

“So like a game?” Tamarind teased.

The Lechonk scowled back, “You know, I could hit you again?” 

Maybe Kombucha is a little brother too! He joked to himself, it was like he never left the Academy Sanctuary. Tamarind was the oldest of his bask so he was the first to be selected for Uva’s Starter Program. Yet he had to be glossed over by at least three students before ending up with Patch. 

“Alright, team!” Patch announced from afar, “Sage’s ready for battle training!”

“About time,” Kombucha remarked. 

“Yippee!” Arturo cheeped.

Tamarind made sure Flumpfy didn’t get left behind. He saw the black Mareep lying next to Kapheria a few tail lengths away.  They’ve known each other for two days yet they’re inseparable. I wonder if it’s an electric thing?

“Hey Flumpfy, Kapheria, time to train!” Tamarind reminded them.

“We’ll be right there!” Flumpfy baaed back. 

Flumpy twinkled the amber orb on the end of his tail as he stood up. Then he and Kapheria followed the group down the moist Pasteur to the battlefield. 

“So Tamarind,” Arturo chimed in, “Do you think battling is fun?” 

“Huh, good question,” The Fuecoco wondered, “Never really thought about it. I think it’s a good way to get my fire out. If I don’t let out an ember once in a while, I feel weird.”

“I’d love to battle if it means I get stronger,” Flumpfy sighed, “The sooner I can evolve, the better!”

“Same here!” Kombucha nodded.

Flumpfy pointed his tail up to Kapheria and flickered another light. He wagged back and forth, flickering in a pattern.

Upon arriving at the battlefield, Dahlia brushed her fluffy tail, whisking leaves for the breeze to carry. Zia shook herself to generate sparks that coiled over her pelt. Both were warming up to fight.

“Hello, boys!” Dahlia mewed, “Which one of you is going to be sparing with us?”

“Me me!” Arturo volunteered.

“You have to wait until Patch chooses you to battle!” Tamarind explained, remembering his mother’s wisdom.

“I fight when I want,” Kombucha protested, sticking his pink nose in the Fuecoco’s face.

He got a whiff of the Lechonk’s rancid breath, which reeked of red peppers and beetroots. 

Their trainer’s hands clapped, “Okay, Team!” Patch declared, “We are in a lot of debt! So let’s work hard to… fight hard! Let’s earn enough money to… get out of debt!”   

The human’s awkward speech made even Flumpfy roll his eyes. Their trainer wasn’t the best at public speaking but no trainer was perfect. 

“Tamarind!” Patch called on him, “Why don’t we practice with you first?”

The Fuecoco stepped forward, feeling honored by his Patch’s decision. At the same time, he wished he was glossed over. Everyone else seemed more enthusiastic about battling than he did, he rarely ever fought.

As he stood on the half of the battlefield, he met the dark red eyes of Dahlia. She was his opponent. A Fire-type against a Grass type? This can’t end well! He pressed his jaw tight.

“Don’t worry about me,” Dahlia seemingly read his mind, “I can handle a bit of heat!” she smiled.

Before he could ask anymore questions, Patch commenced the battle, “Tamarind use Round!”

In very little preparation, the Crocodile hastly sang, “Rahhhh!” He made rings of red sound waves from his well tuned voice.

While all of his contraction was focused onto his attack, he wasn’t aware of Dahlia herself. 

With a Swift Quick attack, her paws pressed into Tamarind’s throat, “Greck!” He gagged as his vocal cords were hit.

The yellow Sprigatito leaped away gracefully, giggling over her successful move. He tried to cough away the pressure and hot cinders flew free from his mouth. 

“Try, Disarming voice!” Patch hollered.

He sang once again but with his throat burning from damage he quavered with an off key disarming voice, “Reeeaaahh!” His sound waves shook barely holding Dahlia off balance.

Come on, I can do this! He pursued another disarming voice, “Rah-ack!” He unintentionally hacked an ember. 

Without her trainer saying a thing, Dahlia hurdled the sudden attack with only her tail tip catching flame. She lashed off the fire before it could spread, leaving a brown mark.

“C’mere, Dahlia!” Her trainer called her over.

“Tamarind, over here,” He was beckoned by his trainer.

He shuffled over with his claw shielding his throat. Patch had a potion ready for him, he opened his mouth and was spritzed with the taste of oran berry juice. 

As he gargled the potion he could hear Kombucha murmur, “What are you waiting for?! Knock that grass type out before I do it myself!” 

Give me a minute, Tamarind thought, I only landed one hit. He swallowed the juice, and he felt a cooling relief in his throat. Here goes nothing. 

After a quick recovery, he and Dahlia made their way back to the frontlines. He could tell that his opponent was also given a potion, as the burnt tip had vanished. I guess she wasn’t kidding. 

Sage made the first move, “Tail whip!” 

“Use Disarming voice!” Patch commanded. 

He began to warble a tune. Instead of attacking, the Sprigatito affectionately rubbed up against his hyde, brushing her tail against his snout. Huh… what is she? His nose was met with a delightful floral fragrance that eased his mind. Wow, that’s pretty good! He could just imagine the fields of Cortondo blooming with spring flowers. Almost inviting him to bask in the sun. 

Then Tamarind was awoken from his trance with a surprising chomp on his tail. 

“Y’ow!” he screamed.

Dahlia bounded from behind him, “Wake up, Tamarind!” She teased. 

The battle was only heating up and he was already out of breath, “Give me a second!” he panted. 

“Are you okay to keep going on?” she asked politely, “You can surrender if it’s too much.” 

“Sorry, I don’t battle much,” The fire croc admitted, “You seem to be holding yourself well.”

“But of course,” she meowed flatteringly, “Sage and I have been training for quite some time. And you’re not the first Fuecoco I fought.”

Dang other Fuecocos? They probably did much better than me. 

“I think Tamarind is too exhausted to keep fighting,” Sage pointed out, “Maybe we can consider this one a draw?”

“It’s alright,” his trainer replied passively, “I can choose someone else to battle.” 

Yeah, I could sure use a rest! He sighed in relief. 

“Well if you’re gonna pay off your debt, you’re gonna need to train your Fuecoco a little more,” Sage explained, “Most of the village will be participating in the tournament and most of them use bug types! Having a fire type is your best way out.”

Oh man now I can’t let them down. Tamarind understood how fretful his trainer was over the slightest of things. He want the weight of debt to worry them forever. If only Patch could take it easy and enjoy the sunshine. 

“Why don’t we try battling some wild Pokemon instead, it might be better,” Sage recommended.   

“Sounds good,” Patch nodded.

“Good battle, Tamarind!” Dahlia kindly congratulated, “I wish you well in the Tournament!” 

As the Sprigatito padded beside her trainer, the rest of the Fuecoco’s teammate surrounded him.

“Wow, you sucked!” Arturo laughed jeeringly. 

“For once he’s right,” Kombucha oinked with criticism, “You act too slow in a fight, you had the type advantage and you still lost!” 

Flumpfy kept quiet, he too was aware of Tamarind’s shortcomings but didn’t want to address them. As the Shroodle and Lechonk insulted him, the black mareep slowly backed away. 

“I’m trying my best, you guys,” Tamarind said passive-aggressively, “It’s just one battle I’ll get better.” 

“If our trainer loses its, on you!” Kombucha trotted off.

Tamarind was rather surprised by Kombucha’s response, usually he desired to command the situation. This time something about him seemed unsure. Did he have faith in the Fuecoco? Was he jealous that he didn’t have a type advantage? Did he realize that there were fights even he couldn’t win? There were too many possibilities and not enough answers.

Both teams of Pokemon and their trainers strolled down to the pastures outside of the village. As the coolmorning passed, then came a warmer midday. For once, Tamarind felt too ashamed to enjoy some sun. Everyone was counting on him and he could not disappoint.

 He scanned the grassy area for bug pokemon, but all he saw were Figdoughs and Igglybuff. How am I supposed to fight bug types if their arent any around? They have to be somewhere!

While Sage’s team stayed behind to catch a wild Fletchling, Patch’s team began attacking the nearby Pokemon. Arturo sprayed the Igglybuffs with colorful acid, Kombucha kicked any Pokemon he saw with mud, and Flumpfy shocked the rest. Tamarind tried to participate with embers but his small flames were too easy to dodge. Regardless he kept spitting fire until his throat was dry.

…

The day was nearly concluded, and much like the setting sun Tamarind was ready to retire for the night. All that hard work has to pay off, he thought, I can’t be slow anymore. I should be able to earn our team some money. He was so exhausted it was hard to keep his eyes shut. All he could do was lie motionless as his trainer set up camp for the night.

Tournament’s tomorrow, he heavily blinked, I can’t lose… I can’t…  

“AGRIASSS!” Kapheria cried.

Tamarind's eyes shot straight open and he was shaken awake.

“It’s okay, it's okay, it’s okay,” Patch pleaded over Kapheria’s heavy wailing, “You're safe now.”

The fire croc saw his trainer wiping mud off of her metallic, violet body. Even though it merely but a splatter of mud, it had the dragon was in full distress.

“Argh, argh…rgg” she winced. 

“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?” Flumpfy's voice grew loud.

“HEY, THAT HURTS!” Arturo wined. 

He felt his head spinning with all the commotion happening around him, One problem at a time, Tamarind. One problem at a time. 

He heard the buzz of electricity and turned to see Arturo trying to pelt Flumpfy with more mud. Oh goodness, Tamarind recognized the situation, he had seen it before, a quarrel between brothers. 

“AHH!” Flumpfy bounded out of the way, “ARTURO, CUT IT OUT!”

Tamarind got up and bolted into action. Before any more mud could spill he picked up the small Shroodle by the belly which immediately squirmed. 

“HEY!” Arturo complained, “LET ME GO!”

“Stop it both of you!” he spoke with the sternness of a mother, “What’s going on, why are you two attacking each other?”

“I didn’t attack at all,” Flumpfy retorted. 

“Did too!” The Shroodle hissed, “He tried to shock me!”

 “I did not!” The Mareep spat immaturely.

“One at a time!” Tamarind commanded, “Flumpfy, what happened?”

“That little pest splashed Kapheria with mud!” Flumpfy furled his striped tail, “And he frightened her!”

That's what the other thing was about. Makes sense, Kapheria startles easily. 

“Nuh-uh,” Arturo retorted, “I was trying to play with her, but she ran off! And then Flumpfy tried to shock me!”

Okay…Arturo does have a strange idea of playing. 

Flumpfy lashed back, “It was an accident! It happens when I’m-”

“ENOUGH!” Tamarind roared, “ATTACKING EACH OTHER ISN’T THE ANSWER!” He cleared his throat, “Arturo, you can only attack your teammates when we train and they say it’s okay. Attacking someone when they're unprepared makes them think you’re trying to hurt them!”

Arturo had some remorse behind his cyan eyes, “It was just a game…” he whispered. 

“Flumpfy…” He turned to the Mareep, “It’s sweet of you to think of Kapheria, but that doesn’t mean you should stoop so low! Arturo’s only a kid!”

Flumpy’s power began to charge with sparks crackling against his wool, “But I didn’t do it on purpose! I’m telling you was an accident!”

“Liar, liar, liar!” Arturo chanted brashfully.  

Flumpfy began to puff out as if he couldn’t handle the light insults of a child. His golden eyes twitched at the Fuecoco. Tamarind misread this situation; it wasn’t only Arturo’s jeering, he did something wrong.  

He needed to make things right, “Fluh-”

“Hmph!” Flumpfy stormed off with a trail of golden static behind him. His tail bulb flickering with frustration. 

Arturo wriggled out of Tamarind’s claws and scampered away into the tall grass. He allowed the weight of his mind to plant him into the ground. Whenever he settled a quarrel between his brothers, they would forgive each other easily. Brotherhood burned deeper than any heated argument. Flumpfy and Arturo only new each other for a few days so it was up to them to kindle their own bond.

All the while Tamarind stared desperately at the stars coming into view of the iridescent sky. How am I supposed to be a good brother to my team, if they can’t act like one? 

<- Chapter 9 - Chapter 11 ->

[reigenhusband]

Psychic Wedding Time!

Art by @/cowboyologist

After months of holding back, we finally tied the ole knot! Me and the conman are officially hitched today September 10, 2021!

This silly little blonde anime man means an awful lot to me and its really more than I can say. These months with him have been a great help.

When I went through some of the roughest things I've ever gone through, I had him to think about for comfort. He is a little part in what keeps me going and I wish I could thank him for everything. He sparks a lot of joy so I think I'm gonna keep him!

I've never been happier and I'm so lucky to call him husband! He's had such a positive impact and I love him so, so much.

Special thank you to my friends and of course our son Mob who carried the rings!

Under the cut is a little fic about getting ready for the wedding. Thanks everyone for your support!

Reigen squinted at his reflection, dark eyes hauntingly focused on a strand of hair that didn't take to the product he put in it. A grunt of dismay rumbled low in his throat.

"Um…Reigen?" 

"Just a second, Serizawa. Almost got it."

The taller man's voice wavered but he managed to hold fast and keep his confidence. Reigen could almost hear his hands wringing. 

"Er...Well. Its just...you've been staring at yourself for a little over 20 minutes now and you haven't moved and…"

Reigen sucked his teeth and pressed his palm firmly to the side of his head. Damned strand of hair! Slick like the rest of it! Don't you know know day it is?!

"What I mean is..! Are you alright?" Serizawa finally asked, his voice heavy with concern. "Since it's your wedding and all I figured you'd be nervous but you seem really on edge. Is something bothering you?" 

The blonde twitched.

 "W...what are you talking about? Of course not! I'm calm and-" He stopped abruptly and slammed his hands flat on either side of the mirror, his eyes wide and bloodshot upon inspection of his suit. A fleck of black thread pervaded his white vest and he looked around frantically for the lint roller. "You thought you could hide but you can't best Reigen Arataka." He muttered as he furiously went over his all but pristine wedding attire. 

His best man scratched his own cheek nervously and looked on with clear uncertainty. "If you're sure." 

Once he was satisfied after a thorough inspection and having Serizawa scrutinize the back, he dropped into a chair. Nearby was a table decorated in what was probably a thousand congratulatory flowers from clients. He exhaled and stared a hole into the arrangement of colors. His heart was pounding. His brow, coupled with his hands, were visibly slick with chilled sweat. His stomach was full of stones. 

He met his own gaze in the mirror again. He looked well kept and yet...disheveled at the same time. Come to think of it, his face was flushed the shade of his usual pink tie. The last 3 days without sleep also hollowed out dark circles under his eyes. His shirt collar began to feel more and more constricting as time went on no matter how much he tugged on it. 

Maybe he really was scared. 

He didn't doubt that he loved Mitty. In fact, he wanted to be with him more than anyone. A case of cold feet wouldn't change that. It was himself he was wrestling with here. 

Spirits, monsters, and deadly espers. He'd faced them all and came out on top. But they were nothing compared to these looming expectations to be a person to rely on. This wasn't something he could bullshit his way through. This was marriage. Mitty was going to see the warted underbelly of when he was Reigen the man instead of Reigen the psychic. His fiancé was going to experience sides of him he only revealed when he was alone. Would he still like him even then?

Reigen was good at a lot of things but this had to be the one that counted most. Could he really be a good partner forever? 

Was he really going to cut it as a husband? 

"Hey, Serizawa?" Reigen asked, not looking at him. 

The man's shoulders lurched at his name suddenly being called. He straightened his back. "Oh! Yes sir?"

"Do you think we'll be good together?" 

Silence sat heavily for a moment. Every second felt longer than the last. 

His friend seemed taken aback by the question but nonetheless looked at the ceiling as though collecting the right words to answer. "Well…"

Another moment passed and Reigen waited with his hands clasped and breath baited. 

"I've never been with anyone so I can't say for certain what a good relationship is but," A compassionate smile spread across the esper's face before he continued, visibly more sure of his words. "I think you and Mr. Mitty understand each other. You always seem to know what the other is thinking. You motivate each other to be better and you seem happy when you're together. And...and you trust each other too. And I think that's whats important." 

Reigen looked at the velveted floor. "Then…"  

"You've become more honest by being with him and he talks like you're really important to him. So please...get married if it makes you both happy! I think you can really be something!" His friend was beaming with 

what Reigen could only say was genuine assurance. 

"I really believe you'll take care of each other." 

His co-worker actually really was resourceful. Maybe someday he ought to pay him more. The uncomfortable feelings waned slightly and his shoulders slowly slacked. Mitty was waiting for him so now wasn't the time to lose it. 

After a few seconds of letting his feelings iron themselves out, he stood and smoothed his hands over his suit jacket. "Well alright then. If thats what you think then I guess there's no backing out of this one." 

Serizawa pressed his hands together in delight. "YES! I've got your back, Reigen!" 

The door into the hallway opened and a set of black eyes peered into the room. "Master, It's starting. Are you coming?" 

The jarring announcement had him scrambling to fix the piece of hair he'd been fussing with. 

"OF COURSE." He jabbed his thumb into his own chest to feign total confidence. "Right behind you, Mob!" 

He held his breath. Alright, let's do this. 

Mitty POV

Teal eyes darted around the room carefully. 

"Hey...Dimple? You there?"

The whizzing of the spirit materializing buzzed next to his ear. 

"Yeah whaddya want? You're on soon, aren't you?" 

Mitty jabbed his right hook into the air where the voice was coming from. "AGH WHAT THE HELL?"

A swift flash of green dodged his reach. 

"HEY, why are you hitting me?! You asked for ME, remember?" The ghost clucked his tongue in disapproval and floated a few inches away for safety. 

"WELL MATERIALIZE WHERE I CAN SEE YOU, YOU BIG BOOGER! I'm on edge!" 

"On edge? What for? You're the one who wanted this, right?"

"W..well….yeah, sorry." He looked at his clenched fist and opened it. "...sorry." He said again more thoughtfully this time. 

Dimple raised a spectral eyebrow. "Whats wrong? Having second thoughts? I mean it's Reigen so who can blame ya."

Mitty scowled while straightening his tie in the mirror. "Hey! REIGEN'S…." His voice softened closer to a whisper. "A pretty good guy. Get off my case. Aren't you supposed to be my support? You're being kinda harsh!" 

"Well kid, something is obviously on your mind so let's hear it. Wedding starts soon right? Yeesh. Once you do all this he's your problem forever." 

"I'm not worried about him!! I'm more worried about...me."

"About you? What're you talkin' about?! You're too good for him!"

"Thanks for the flattery. You still can't have my body though."

"Well I didn't want it anyways, ya bastard. You're weak compared to Shigeo. I'm just being honest here!" 

Silence.

"So? Out with it, What did you want anyways? You're talking nonsense here!" 

Mitty wrinkled his nose in discomfort.  "I just needed to ask something. But you can't run your mouth off like you always do, you old gossip. You're like a knitting circle."

"TCH. like I'd blabber your business to someone. It's all so boring."

"Yeah, yeah just listen, alright?!"

Another few seconds passed. "So? Say it. We don't have all day, you know."

He was looking at his hands again like he was somewhere far off. "Well. D...D'you think I'll be good at this?" 

"Good at what, exactly?" 

"Being married." 

Dimple's form rippled with thought. "You're seriously worried about that?"

Mitty was going to make a sharp remark but his head dropped and his face buried into his knuckles. "Yeah."

Dimple deflated slightly in exasperated defeat. Humans could be so ignorant. 

"Listen. That fraud never shuts up about you. You think you're not good enough? You should hear him talk. It's annoying how you both don't realize things."

"Realize things?"

He sighed and shrugged his tiny arms. "I hear everything whether you like it or not. You two idiots never stop talking and moaning about the other is too good for the other. It's getting old, really." 

"HUH? He says that? No way! But he's always beaten me at everything! I always thought he was way out of my league." 

 "Kinda the opposite actually but...sure. What I'm saying is���! You're both seeing the best parts of each other. Keep doing that and it'll be smooth sailing."

"Yeah but...what if he stops seeing the best in me?'

"You planning on making things hard?" 

"Not really. I just know I can be difficult to deal with." 

"So is he. You really think you got this far because Reigen's all roses and sunshine? 'Course not. You've seen all the stuff he does and you still like him, right?" 

He certainly was flawed, that was for sure. Mitty spent most of Reigen's antics with his eyes rolled up in his head but that didn't mean he wasn't enjoying the moment either. 

"Right."

"Then it's the same for him. Sure it won't always be fun but that phoney won't give up on you just because you're annoying. He's way too persistent. It kind of ticks me off." 

I'm annoying???  That stung but he shook it off.

Reigen was going to have to deal with him for the rest of his life once they said the right words. But if Dimple was right...would it be so bad to annoy each other for the rest of their lives if the other was willing to put up with it? 

Reigen seemed okay with it so far. Mitty would just have to listen to him make a fuss about his coffee table clutter until he died. But really, he wouldn't have that any other way. His voice was kind of cute when he hit that inhuman octave he had when he was in disbelief. 

The door from the hall swung open and a blond clad in what was perhaps the most blinding and loud suit he had ever seen poked his head in. 

"Oh, You're still in here? It's bad luck to be late on your wedding day! Master Reigen is waiting. " He cocked his head to the side. "Or did you need some help with your suit? Its looking a little plain." 

Hanazawa. This kid would try to accessorize his suit in the worst way possible. He put up his hands to wave him off. 

"N-nah, kiddo that's alright. I'll be right there."

Hanazawa, after a few more attempts to get Mitty to let him help retreated back into the hallway. When it was quiet again he eyed Dimple. He was abrasive and unpleasant. He always had a motive for everything and rarely had something nice to say. 

But he came through when it mattered. 

"Hey Dimple?" 

"Yeah? What is it?" 

"Thanks." 

Dimple wouldn't meet his eyes and levitated towards the hall. He didn't want to acknowledge he was helping, he supposed. It was in character for that tsundere blob.

"You ought to get out of here now if you wanna make it on time." 

He stood and dusted himself off. 

"Welp. Here goes everything."

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Lie to Me

Prompts: Post Pof: Janus is not doing ok, everday he can taste Roman's lies, he can feel Roman's pain. He can feel the ego crumbling. Guilt plagues him as hes done the opposite of protecting the ego. Hey uh... could you write a fic when you have the time? - meltheromanstan

Roman is having issues trying to keep up his facade (and maybe struggling with his work cause ADHD makes everything difficult on top of everything because I love the idea of the twins having ADHD) and he is one bump in the road away from a full on meltdown. And Janus realizes a lie in a conversation that’s concerning and at some point in Roman begrudgingly gives a self deprecating reason and Janus is like heck no and Roman’s like why not and Janus is like because i care? And then Roman breaks down because no one has told him anything like that in a long time. Sorry that’s so long. You can write this whenever, or never if you don’t wanna. Anygay, bye and thank you! - anon

Thank you for the requests! oh this poor man. roman i'm so sorry you didn't do anything to deserve this and here I am hurting you. I'm so sorry bb you need to be wrapped up with a hot chocolate and sat far away from everything.

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-hatred, self-doubt, poor roman’s got so much internalized hatred this poor man, some things that can be interpreted as self-harm but nothing explicit

Pairings: main focus on roceit but it can be platonic or romantic you decide, background LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR

Word Count: 10,554

Janus hears every single lie in the Mindscape. It doesn't matter whether or not the liar believes it to be true or knows it's a falsehood; if it isn't true, he hears it.

Roman lies. A lot.

Or: 5 times Janus had to hide that he was taking care of Roman, and 1 time he didn't.

1. 

They never gave Roman enough credit for how good of an actor he can be.

 The wedding is an absolute dumpster fire. The aftermath is a nuclear explosion. Roman sinks out in silence, long before the video is over. Virgil never shows up, neither does Remus. Logan is cut off before he can realize it.

 Well, that’s not true.

 Janus cuts Logan off before he can realize it.

 Because he didn’t care about them, no. Patton has the most influence over Thomas. Patton is the one who influences the other Sides more than they realize most of the time. And Patton is the one who needed to listen.

 So it didn’t matter that the others weren’t there when Janus had to talk to Patton and Thomas, because it worked. Thomas listened, Patton finally understood, and things could start getting better.

 …or so he thought.

 In fairness, the others came around…fairly quickly. He approached Logan with a book on philosophy and an apology on his lips, only to be swept up into a conversation that had drawn both Patton and Virgil into the living room by the end of the day. It felt…well, right isn’t the correct word, but…warm, perhaps. Yes, let’s go with warm.

 Of course, Remus belly-flopping onto the couch—and the rest of them—near the end was certainly an additional factor.

 But Roman…

 Janus didn’t expect Roman to forgive him. Certainly not quickly. He certainly expected Roman to forgive the others for whatever little parts they played in harming the prince’s precious ego. And he absolutely expected the prince to admit that he was wrong, that it was indeed his fault that everything had gone so spectacularly wrong.

 The first time Roman walks into the kitchen after the wedding, Janus flinches.

 Virgil notices and all but jumps in front of him, snarling a ‘what do you want?’ in Roman’s direction. Patton had turned around and his smile had frozen, staring at Roman.

 “Hello, Roman,” Logan says cooly, “may we help you?”

 “Yeesh, aren’t you lot jumpy this morning?” Roman shakes his head and sighs dramatically. “I am not here to grace you all with my glorious presence, simply to grab a little food and depart on a quest!”

 “Thank god,” Virgil mutters, too low for Roman to hear.

 He pushes Janus behind him as Roman waltzes into the kitchen to take something out of the cupboard.

 “…when will you be back,” Patton asks warily, “and where are you going?”

 “Into the Imagination, my dear Padre!” Roman spreads his arms wide. “To see where the spirit of adventure takes me!”

 “That answers only one of the questions.” Logan closes his notebook sharply.

 “Time is a social construct,” Roman says airily, “but I suppose I shall try to return for dinner?”

 “Don’t force yourself,” Virgil snarks, crossing his arms, “looks hard enough already.”

 Roman just laughs and leaves.

 “Goodness,” Patton mumbles, leaning on the counter, “I didn’t expect him to be so—so—“

 “Roman?” Virgil rolls his eyes. “Princey’s got a head bigger than a fucking balloon—“

 “Language.”

 “—and he’s not gonna come down to earth for anything.”

 “Roman is—or can be—remarkably immature when it comes to admitting his mistakes,” Logan adds, “it’s not to be completely unexpected that he is still in denial.”

 Patton sighs. “I know, I just…expected better.”

 “Don’t hold your breath,” Virgil huffs, “what about you, Janus? Are you hurt?”

 “I also noticed you flinch,” Logan says, standing, “are you alright? Did Roman…”

 “He didn’t hurt you, did he, kiddo?”

 No. No, Janus is absolutely fine right now.

 The instant Roman had appeared in the doorway, the lies slammed into Janus.

  They hate you, they never want to see you again.

  Everything is your fault.

  Virgil is right to try and shield Janus from you, you were so fucking cruel to him.

  They don’t deserve to be burdened with you.

  Leave. Leave so they never have to put up with you. You know they don’t want you.

  They’ve never wanted you.

 And yet, as clearly as he heard those lies, he heard Roman, the blustery, pompous Prince, loud as ever, spoiled as ever. He saw Roman, the swaggering adventurer, the cocky Creativity who was always right, always the center of attention.

 The actor.

 Janus had definitely given him enough credit for that.

 “Janus?”

 Right, they’re still waiting for an answer.

 “I’m fine,” he says, a beat too late, “just caught off guard, that’s all.”

 Virgil eyes him suspiciously. “You’re lying.”

 “Well of course I am,” Janus sighs, rolling his eyes, “it’s not like Deceit is one of my primary functions, after all.”

 “Kiddo,” Patton says, “you know you can tell us if Roman—if someone hurts you, right?”

 Something pinches just under his chin. “I know.”

 “…so?”

 He shakes his head. “Roman hasn’t hurt me, nor has he threatened to.”

 Virgil bumps his shoulder. “Just…keep us in the loop, okay?”

 “Because it’s very likely that Roman will hurt me.”

 The others chuckle or brush it off. Of course, they did. When they aren’t paying attention, Janus lets his gaze trail up the stairs, following the line where the prince vanished. The others have never paid much attention to when Roman returns from his ‘quests.’

 Janus does.

 Even if Janus weren’t consciously coming to the prince’s aid, he’s certain he’d be summoned regardless.

 He waits, quiet in the shadows, for the telltale squeak of the lower hinge on the red wardrobe door in Roman’s room. He’s learned to keep still, keep quiet, not yet fully materialized, watching as Roman stumbles back through the door, one of his arms sagging in relief as the other holds him up. The door creaks shut and a shuddering breath leaves the prince’s chest.

 His head bows.

 Before the charade completely falls away, Roman pushes himself up and starts getting ready to sleep. His sash, normally laid so carefully over the back of his chair, is given barely a second thought as he throws his costume onto the floor. Janus winces at the slam of the bathroom door and again at the way Roman all but collapses into the bed with a miserable expression on his face. He doesn’t need to pry away the pillow to know that Roman is desperate.

  Stupid, stupid, worthless prince.

  Not even a fucking prince, not even the fucking squire.

  Useless, can’t even do your fucking job.

  Can’t even stop feeling fucking sorry for yourself even though you know damn well you don’t deserve it.

  You don’t deserve anything.

 Janus grits his teeth and waits. Waits for Roman’s lies to grow less vitriolic, more sluggish, waits for Roman’s breathing to even out, sagging against the pillow, before he moves.

 His footsteps are silent as he crosses the room, keeping a wary eye on the door, lest someone else knock and wake up the now sleeping prince. He swallows, leaning down, his lips barely brushing the curve of Roman’s ear.

 He doesn’t touch, doesn’t want to risk waking him now.

 “You’re not stupid, Roman,” he whispers, barely loud enough to be heard, even by himself. “You’re not worthless, you’ve never been worthless.”

 Roman shifts in his sleep. Janus freezes. He stills and he breathes out. Bends just a little closer.

 “And you deserve to know that.”

 Even if he can only even whisper it when Roman is too deep in sleep to hear him.

 2. 

The lies don’t stop. They just get worse.

 Fortunately, Janus’s powers aren’t limited by the physical space, not when the lies are particularly pervasive. For example, every time Logan insists that he doesn’t have feelings, or Virgil insists he doesn’t care about the others, or Patton says—particularly passionately—that everything’s fine, Janus hears it. These ones typically merit a scoff and a roll of the eyes, or a quip if he’s actually in the same room. These ones he’s used to.

 Here’s the thing about the lies that Janus can hear; it doesn’t matter whether or not they’re lies that someone knows is a lie or whether it’s something they believe. If it isn’t true, Janus will hear it.

 Case in point: Roman’s lies, and the lies that took Janus far too long to figure out were lies.

 When he decides to tune into Roman’s mind, he’s normally greeted with statements lauding about how amazing the prince is, how he’s the best Side, how much he loves himself. Even when he’s not paying particular attention to Roman, he can hear those sentiments loud and clear.

 The issue with that? He can hear them loud and clear.

 Now, is it likely that these are things that Roman believes that aren’t true? The possibility exists.

 Is it more likely, given recent…developments, that these are things that Roman has known aren’t true, and is intentionally thinking them in order to keep playing a role?

 No, of course not, why would you ever think that?

 They won’t go away. He can barely look at Roman now, can’t stop seeing, hearing all the lies he tells himself every day. The others are starting to worry, growing colder towards Roman, concerned about how much Janus tries to put distance between them. Virgil keeps shoving himself in between the two of them, Logan keeps pulling Janus into long conversations that Roman wouldn’t dare insert himself into, Patton makes sure the two of them are never alone.

 Well, almost never alone.

 The lies are the worst at night. When Roman is in his room, curled up under the covers, his head buried in his hands, they roam freely, coloring the red curtains with shadows, smearing themselves over his paintings, his drawings, his writing, his keyboard.

  They’re right to be scared of you, right to hate you.

  You don’t deserve their forgiveness, especially when you haven’t even apologized for the amount of things you’ve done wrong.

  And you’re selfish enough to want a fucking apology from them?

 Janus, waiting in the corner for Roman to fall asleep, winces, the strength and magnitude of the lie filling his mouth with bitterness.

 Does he deserve an apology from Roman? Yes, perhaps, that would be nice. Laughing at his name in a moment of vulnerability was…perhaps not ideal.

 But the idea that Roman doesn’t deserve an apology? From any of them?

 Roman, the only one who consistently defers and gives and tries and hopes for them, the one who works nonstop to make sure they have something, anything to do, for Thomas, for each other, the only one who’s called out to apologize to them, who apologizes to them when he realizes he’s done something wrong?

 Roman deserves an apology. If only to make up for the amount of times he’s been blamed for something that someone else started.

 A noise.

 Janus blinks, coming back to the present as Roman stirs. For a moment, he worries that the prince has woken up, that he’s discovered someone else in his room, only for a trail of sluggish lies to funnel into his mind.

  Janus hates you more than anyone else and he’s right to.

  You hurt Janus on purpose.

  You never stop hurting Janus.

  You will always be someone he can use, a puppet, until you are nothing more than an obstacle.

 Before he can stop himself, he’s striding across the room to murmur in Roman’s ear again, chest aching with the weight of the lies.

 “The others,” he murmurs, flooding the words with as much sincerity as he can, “they don’t know what I can hear, what they have never noticed, and that is what hurts me, my prince, that you are so quiet and so brave that you can convince the world that you’re not suffering.”

 Roman clutches his pillow a little tighter.

 “I don’t hate you, my prince, I know you didn’t mean to hurt me like that, and I know—“ he takes a deep breath— “I know that the hurt you caused me is nothing compared to what I have done to you.”

 He closes his eyes and feels the guilt well up in his chest. He knows he can’t say the full apology that Roman needs—that he deserves right now. He can’t even begin to imagine all the little things he hasn’t even realized he’s done to Roman, how many things he’s done that he’s forgotten that were just another Tuesday to him, but rewrote entire chapters of Roman’s life.

 He can’t begin to imagine how much of this could’ve been stopped if only he’d realized just how hurt Roman has always been.

 “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m sorry that I never realized how far I let this get.”

 3. 

Roman is touch-starved, he realized, horrified one day when he walks into the living room to see Logan and Patton sitting on the couch, Virgil sprawled across their laps, and Roman in the corner, far away from everyone else, hiding such a look of heartbreak that Janus almost stops in the doorway as Remus brushes past him.

 “Hey!” Virgil splutters when Remus lies down on top of him.

 “Remus!” Patton pushes lightly at him. “You’re going to squish Virgil!”

 “He’s durable, he’s used to it.”

 Logan raises his eyebrows, looking to Janus for confirmation. Janus sighs.

 “I can remember every single time I’ve walked into our living room to see the two of them on the couch,” he says dryly, “and I’m certain that all of them have started with Remus asking Virgil’s permission to lie on top of him for hours.”

 “See?” Remus wraps his arms around Virgil. “He’s fine.”

 “Yeah, yeah, Pat and L’s knees won’t be though.”

 “Ooh! Did you know that some people have a third bone in their knee?”

 “I would be more than happy to follow this train of conversation,” Logan mutters, “if you were to get off my lap.”

 “Fine.”

 Janus shakes his head again as Remus clambers off, landing cross-legged next to Logan on the couch and immediately info-dumping. Virgil sighs and scoots, laying his head in Patton’s lap and going back to his phone. Patton runs his hand through Virgil’s hair and wiggles his free hand at Janus.

 “Come on, there’s plenty of room.”

 Remus snorts, interrupting his tirade long enough to say: “Jan-Jan’s not a cuddler,” before going back to talking about…something to do with knees. Patton frowns.

 “What?”

 “’S true.” Virgil peers up at him. “He’ll hug you if you ask for it but he’s not big on cuddling.”

 “O-oh.”

 “He should still come sit with us, though,” Virgil says quickly, shooting Janus a very subtle look, “so get over here, J.”

 Janus sits, pulling out his book and opening it. After a few seconds, Patton looks away, and Virgil tunes out again.

 Good.

 The lies were getting a little too hard to stand.

 Here, behind his book, he can shift his attention to Roman, scribbling in his notebook and looking every bit the creative genius at work, dead to the world, couldn’t give less interest as to what’s going on around him.

 As he said, Roman is a fantastic actor.

 This time, it’s not even that the words are the thing hurting him now. No, these lies are the type he’s more used to, someone frantically muttering the same thing to themselves over and over and over, trying to convince themselves it’s true. The problem is what’s being carried with the lies, and how deep this need must run in order for it to make it to Janus.

  I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it.

 Roman’s hand is trembling a little on his pen as his brow furrows, eyes skating back and forth over the page. The ache starts just under his chin, right where it meets his throat, and surges, rushing through his arms to the very tips of his fingers. All of them, even the hidden ones. His gloves twitch on the pages of the book.

 He’s so cold.

  I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it.

 The words start to blur together. It hurts. His arms ache. He risks looking more openly at Roman only for him to notice, looking back and quirking an eyebrow.

 “Something wrong, Deceit?”

 “He has a name,” Virgil growls.

 “Janus,” Roman amends, shooting Virgil a glance, “is there something wrong?”

 “Why’re you over there?”

 He meant to ask why Roman wasn’t sitting with the other Sides. He meant to ask whether Roman chose to sit by himself and starve himself of physical contact or if the others had cut him off. He meant to ask if Roman wanted to come to sit with the rest of them.

 Instead, Roman smiles.

 “You’re right. It’s getting quite late. I must be off!”

 Before Janus can say anything, Roman assumes his dramatic pose and sinks out, cheerily declaring his farewells.

 Next to him, Patton lets out a shaky breath.

 “Goodness.”

 Logan adjusts his glasses. “Quite.”

 “Thanks, Janus,” Virgil mutters, making himself more comfortable, “I thought he’d never leave.”

 No.

 No, no, no, this is all wrong.

 “Why did you want him to leave?”

 Virgil shrugs. “It’s harder when he’s here.”

 “Harder how?”

 “We do not know how to act around Roman,” Logan admits, fixing his tie, “he’s not—well, he seems content to behave as if nothing is wrong, and…”

 “It’s not,” Patton says softly. He fiddles with his hands. “We can’t go back to the way it was before, and Roman…Roman doesn’t seem to know how to move on.”

 Virgil snorts. “Not that he seems to care enough to try.”

 Well, if the lies still plaguing Roman’s thoughts are any indication…

  Why would they want to touch you? You ruin everything you touch, haven’t you ruined enough already? Haven’t you ruined them enough already?

  They’re done trying with you. They hate you. It’s a wonder they only realize it now.

  Broken, useless, toxic prince. Finally left out in the cold where you deserve to be.

 Roman curls up under his thin sheet, the heavy blankets put away for the colder seasons too far away and too close to Patton’s room for him to get them safely. Janus watches as he twitches miserably, curling up tighter, turning over, hugging his pillow to his chest, trying, trying to feel warm. Every now and then there’s a quiet noise, quickly stifled. His arms start to ache again, not just from the cold, but from how much Roman seems to believe that no one wants to touch him.

 He makes up his mind.

 He sinks out to his room, quickly grabbing one of his weighted blankets from his own storage. Returning to Roman’s room, he waits with bated breath until Roman’s chest rises and falls at a steady rate before carefully creeping forward and spreading the blanket over the prince.

 “Don’t make yourself cold,” he murmurs, tucking it into place, “stay warm for me, my prince, stay warm, it’s alright.”

 Roman shifts, turning his head so it accidentally brushes Janus’s hand.

 Janus freezes.

 Roman hums slightly and falls back asleep. Shaking, Janus moves his fingers, letting them card through Roman’s hair. The prince mumbles and doesn’t wake.

 He does it again, firmer this time. Roman all but melts under this, just this, just a proper blanket over him and someone running their fingers through his hair.

 “Oh, Roman,” Janus murmurs, unable to resist cupping Roman’s face in his hand, “you’re don’t ruin everything you touch, far from it.”

 He cups the back of Roman’s head, guiding it to a more comfortable angle.

 “On the contrary,” he whispers, “you make us better.”

 And maybe…maybe he can try and provide a little of what Roman needs. Even if they have to be stolen moments, felt only on the very edges of sleep, when Roman is conscious enough to remember them but not lucid enough to lie and say he doesn’t deserve it.

 4. 

The time when Roman barely managed to stumble through the door in his room before passing out is the only time Janus seriously considers calling the others to help.

 But no, he reminds himself as he rushes to the prince’s side, they would want to wake him up, to scold him, to figure out exactly what he thought he was doing, whether or not he’s considered whether this is hurting Thomas.

 Janus bites back a growl as he starts examining the prince.

 Perhaps if they were so concerned about whether or not hurting Roman hurts Thomas, they’d be more considerate about what they say to him.

 He pushes that away for now, more focused on getting Roman’s tight collar away from his neck and checking the state of his bruises. From what he can see from the dirt on the costume, he’s fallen, from quite a significant height, and who knows what else might be hiding under here?

 “I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he looks around for something to help, “but I may have to peel you out of these.”

 Sure enough, he can get most of the costume top off fairly easily—and gains a newfound respect for how difficult it must be to put the thing on by himself, there are so many buttons—but the undershirt proves more difficult, especially as it seems to be stuck in places that it should not be stuck in.

 …oh.

 Oh, no.

 Janus bites back a curse and moves quickly. One arm reaches for the first aid kit he knows is in the bathroom, one arm grabs a pillow and stuffs it under Roman’s head, two gently move his arms up and over his head, and two carefully, carefully take the edge of the undershirt and beginning to take it off.

 He presses a gauze pad to the wound over Roman’s hip.

 He holds an ice pack to the swollen lump on his rib cage.

 He checks over the wound on his chest.

 He tilts Roman’s head from side to side to see how far up the bruises go.

 The pants have to come next and Janus grits his teeth, running his hand over Roman’s forehead as an apology before he shucks the article of clothing.

 More bruises. So many bruises. Thankfully no more bleeding wounds.

 He lets out a breath and sits back on his haunches, staring down at the injured prince.

 The best thing about it, he decides, is that there’s no way for Roman to know that he would’ve been safe passing out and not taking care of any of these.

 The wound on his hip has all but stopped bleeding as Janus tends to it carefully, wiping away the blood and soothing the angry skin with a balm, covering the whole thing with a bandage. The mark on his chest isn’t as bad as it looks, bits of dead skin that Janus clears away and brushes off Roman’s torso. The antiseptic makes him hiss a little and he rubs soothing circles into his tummy until he resettles, murmuring that he’s doing so well, he’s almost done, they’ll get him into bed and he can rest.

 None of the bruises on his legs are bad enough to merit bruise cream, let alone keeping the poor thing from his bed for a moment longer. Instead, Janus quickly covers the one on his ribs and lifts the prince into his arms.

 Roman jolts.

 “Shh, shh,” Janus murmurs, stroking a free hand through his hair, “shh, shh, shh…”

 Roman shushes, just in time for Janus to lie him down and tuck him in, one hand still in his hair as he sits on the edge of the bed. A furrow grows between his brows.

  Should’ve gotten hurt worse.

 Janus freezes.

  Should’ve let them hit you more.

  Got off too easy.

  It should hurt more. You deserve it. Maybe if you pay enough it’ll get better.

 “No, sweetie,” Janus whispers, reaching out before he can stop himself and cradling Roman’s sleeping head in his hands, “no, no, no, don’t ever believe that we want to see you hurt.”

  Shouldn’t have come back.

  Shouldn’t be a burden.

  At least none of the others know about it, they would only complain and ignore you. Useless, worthless prince.

 “You’re not worthless, sweetie,” Janus promises, still cradling the poor thing’s head, running his fingers through his hair to keep him lulled and asleep, “shh, now, everything’s alright, hush now…”

 As the lies drift off into nothingness, Roman along with them, Janus’s face falls.

 Roman is the protector. The prince that will always put himself between them and whatever dared to try and hurt them. He’s not meant to fight a war on two fronts.

  Who protects the protector?

 “I will, sweetie,” Janus whispers, so, so quietly as he tidies up Roman’s room and gives the sleeping prince one last pat, “I’ll look after you.”

 5. 

Roman, perhaps more than any of the others, is essential to Thomas’s mental help.

 Roman is Thomas’s hopes and dreams, the things he wants above all else, the things he strives for, the things he desires. He reaches and reaches and reaches for Thomas, holds every single one of his wants close to his chest, and keeps them safe until they can bubble up into reality.

 Roman is romance, the reason Patton gets all fluttery and bubbly inside. He’s the suave, fabulous, gay disaster that encourages Thomas to be happy, to reach for who he wants, for who he desires.

 Roman is creativity, the livelihood that Thomas has chosen. He works nonstop, tirelessly producing idea after idea for Thomas to film, to write, to create, so Thomas can live and be proud of what he’s doing.

 Roman is the Ego.

 What is the Ego, you may ask? Well, although Freud is largely considered bullshit by modern psychologists—or at the very least, upsetting due to the fact that his research was largely corrupted by the rich men funding it—there are certain aspects of his work that remain in the public mind.

 Simply put, the Ego is the conscious mind. It is the sum of your thoughts, beliefs, and habits as they interact with your physical body. The tether that stretches into your awareness and consciousness and into your physical form. It is a combination of body-thoughts-feelings and the consciousness taken to activate it.

 The Ego gives you a sense of self-worth. It is a mask, one you put on and play as a role.

 Everyone and anyone, it seems, has been warned about the dangers of an out-of-control Ego. Overconfident, hubristic, arrogant, with no regard for others. A vapid complainer, sustained by the power of approval hoarded selfishly. You are encouraged, if not instructed outright, to learn how to live without paying any attention to your Ego.

 Here’s what they don’t tell you.

 The Ego is what you think of yourself. It gives you self-worth because that’s its job. To make you feel secure in who you are. It is sustained by approval because it lives in fear. It itself puts on a mask of strength, of imperviousness, that it is indestructible, because it is soft, malleable, and so very afraid.

 It is true that the Ego is nourished by positive comments, because it isn’t a crime to feel good, or to feel proud, or to want to be validated. It is true that the Ego sometimes reaches too high, only to fall, because that is its nature, to want, and to hope.

 They don’t tell you that when you turn your hatred inwards, your Ego doesn’t just bruise, it crumbles.

 So when Logan constantly tells Roman that they can’t do something, or it isn’t a worthy use of their time, despite his best intentions, he’s not doing much other than snatching Roman’s dreams away. Roman learns not to ignore Logan, yes, but at the expense of constantly being told that it is his fault when Thomas feels crushed, never mind that Roman is crushed, too.

 So when Virgil insults and belittles his worth, tells him he’s stupid and unimportant, despite the fact that Roman will snipe back at him, all he does is reinforce the idea that Roman is the only one at fault, that Virgil is allowed to sit and insult him to his heart’s content while Roman has to apologize for standing up for himself. Roman learns to stand quietly while Virgil tells Thomas he’s a disappointment until the time comes where he believes it’s true.

 So when Patton decides that Roman is bad, after how much Roman has sacrificed for Patton, to do what would make Patton happy, Thomas happy, when all he needs is just someone on his side, something, anything, Roman has to stand there, alone, hurt, angry, upset, and be told that he’s wrong. Roman learns that he’s only here to give, not to receive, that no one will hold him when he falls apart.

 So when Remus starts to show up, more and more, less and less restrained, no one puts it together that Roman literally does not have the strength to hold him back. Roman learns that the others don’t realize how little confidence he already has, only that their approval of him is directly proportional to how much they hate his brother.

 So when Janus decides that Thomas needs to take better care of himself and that the only one he needs to focus on is Patton, Roman is the perfect tool, the perfect puppet, to be used and tossed aside when he no longer needs him, because it’s so easy to twist and turn the little prince so he dances in just the right way, never mind how much it hurts. Roman learns that no one ever cared about him, not really, and perhaps they never will.

 As you might be able to imagine, destroying the thing that gives one self-worth is absolutely the best way to go about things.

 Can any of you guess where the blame gets pushed when Thomas’s mental health suddenly plummets?

 It’s definitely where it should be.

 The thing that scares Janus the most about how that meeting goes is how resigned Roman is.

 His hands are folded neatly behind his back. His face is politely blank. His mind is quiet.

 When there’s a break in the conversation—if you could even call it that—he opens his mouth.

 “What would you like me to do?”

 “Have you not been listening?” Logan adjusts his glasses. “To…anything we have said?”

 “Of fucking course he hasn’t,” Virgil grumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets.

 “Kiddo,” Patton admonishes, crossing his arms, “Thomas hasn’t had any ideas or dreams lately and it’s stressing him out.”

 “Which means you need to get out of the pity party and back to reality with the rest of us,” Virgil adds.

 “Which means,” Logan sighs, crossing his arms too, “you are going to have to start talking to us again.”

 Roman looks between them. “Are we not…talking now?”

 “He means actually interacting with us, Princey.”

 “Have I…not been doing that?”

 “It means accepting that things have changed,” Logan snaps, “and working through it.”

 Roman tilts his head. “How would you like me to do that?”

 “Well—“ Logan adjusts his glasses— “let’s start with an apology.”

 Something flickers across Roman’s face. Janus looks back and forth between Thomas and Remus. Thomas just looks a little confused as to what’s going on—which, when doesn’t he?—and Remus is staring right at Roman. There’s a strange expression on his face.

 “What would you like me to apologize for?”

 Janus winces when Virgil scoffs, turning away, and Logan’s mouth hardens into a thin line.

 “Why don’t you try starting,” Patton says, “and we’ll see.”

 “No, you know what? No.” Virgil points a finger at Roman. “I’m done holding your hand through all of this. Waiting for you to realize that you fucked up.”

 “Virgil—“

 “No, Pat!” Virgil gestures between the three of them. “You know how hard it’s been on us, waiting for something to change, and now he wants us to just…what, walk him through what he did wrong?”

 Patton spares a glance at Roman before looking away.

 Roman’s face twitches. He looks down.

 “Perhaps Virgil is right,” Logan says, “when Roman can try taking the first step, then maybe this conversation will be more productive. Until then, I see no reason to waste time.”

 “Great. Bye, Thomas.”

 “Wait, you guys are just leaving?”

 “I see no reason to simply stand here and be unproductive,” Logan shrugs, “perhaps if something changes, you can summon us back.”

 “Doubt it,” Virgil mutters, grabbing Logan’s shoulder and sinking them out. Patton spares one last look at Roman before he leaves too.

 Thomas shuffles a little. Remus keeps staring at Roman.

 After a moment, Roman moves.

 “…you want me to apologize?”

 Janus definitely imagines the chill that goes through the room.

 Roman raises his head. He does not look at where Patton stood, he does not look at where Virgil stood, he does not look at where Logan stood.

 He looks directly at Thomas.

 “I’m sorry, Thomas.”

 Thomas splutters. “Roman—“

 “I’m sorry that I sent you to the wedding,” Roman says softly, Thomas’s words dying in his throat, “I’m sorry that I made a decision that I thought you wanted. I’m sorry that I tried to put your friends above your own wants, because I thought that was right. I’m sorry that I thought I was doing what was right.”

 Thomas’s eyes go wide.

 “I’m sorry that you never had faith that you would win the callback,” Roman continues, never once looking away from Thomas, “I’m sorry that your dreams are always too far away, that you must always feel the need to crush them in favor of what is more practical. I’m sorry that you constantly feel like you’re set up to be one big disappointment.”

 Janus’s arms drop in shock.

 “I’m sorry that I can’t do what you want,” and by this point, Thomas looks on the verge of tears, “even though that’s supposed to be my job. I’m sorry that nothing I do is ever good enough on its own, that you feel so afraid, so scared of doing the things you want. I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel even the tiniest bit of my fear.”

 Thomas stifles a noise.

 “I’m sorry that I don’t know things.” Roman chuckles sadly. “I’m sorry that it takes me so much time to figure out what to do. I’m sorry that it always feels like everyone’s one step ahead of me, that you have to wait for me to catch up, even though I never, ever do. I’m sorry for not sticking to the plan.”

 Something heavy presses against Janus’s throat.

 “And I’m sorry that I’m hurt. I’m sorry that it’s been a little too much for me to handle. I’m sorry that my pain is an inconvenience to you.”

 “R-Roman—“

 Roman just smiles sadly when Thomas can’t finish the sentence. He spreads his arms, giving a little gesture to himself.

 “I’m sorry that this is your Ego.”

 Janus sees the moment the horrified realization dawns on Thomas’s face.

 “I’m gonna fucking kill them,” Remus snarls and it’s only years of practice that makes Janus’s reflexes fast enough to catch hold of him before he sinks out. “Let me go!”

 “You can’t hurt them,” Janus grunts, “you know you can’t.”

 “Fucking watch me!”

 “No, no, Remus,” Thomas splutters, “don’t—don’t do that.”

 “Why the fuck not?” Remus snarls, spittle flying from his lips as he struggles against Janus’s hold. “You heard what Roman just said, they—they—“

 “We did it too, Remus,” Janus says softly, glancing at Roman, “we’re not blameless either.”

 Remus keeps struggling. “Let—me—“

 “Remus.”

 Roman’s soft voice still the duke entirely, his head whipping around. Roman just stares at him, resignation and acceptance written plainly on his features.

 “It’s not fair, Ro,” he mumbles.

 “Life isn’t fair.”

 “I—I can summon them back, we can get them back, they can listen to you—“

 “But they won’t,” Roman cuts off in the same soft fury, “they won’t listen to me.”

 “Roman, they love you!”

 Janus winces. Roman just turns to look at him. He can’t meet his eyes.

 “Maybe,” Roman says eventually, “maybe not. Either way…”

 He spreads his hands.

 “Here we are.”

 “Let me go, Jan.”

 “If I do, will you stay?”

 “Fine.”

 Janus lets him go, only for Remus to lunge and wrap his brother in a tight hug. Roman stands there, immobile, until Remus lets out a howl. Roman just murmurs another soft ‘I’m sorry,' and sinks out.

 Remus collapses to the floor, his Morningstar cupped in his hands.

 “What—what just happened?”

 “The twins share things,” Janus murmurs quietly, his eyes still on Remus, “including emotions when they are particularly strong.”

 “So—“ Thomas shakes his head— “so Remus is feeling what Roman’s feeling?”

 “No,” Remus snarls, still gripping the weapon tightly, “I’m feeling what Roman isn’t feeling.”

 He stands up, eyes blazing.

 “I am what Roman isn’t. To you. What Roman isn’t, I am. Which means—“ his knuckles turn white— “the fact that I’m feeling so strongly right now means that Roman isn’t.”

 Thomas goes pale. “What?”

 “Roman is numb,” Janus says quietly, “he’s closed himself off from…everything. To protect himself.”

 “It means my brother, the good Creativity, passion, desire, romance, hopes and dreams, whatever you want to call him,” Remus growls, “is now numb, touch-starved, and too afraid of rejection to reach out for anything.”

 “What do I do,” Thomas asks frantically, “how do we fix this?”

 “You can let me kill the others.”

 “No, Remus.”

 “Talk to them,” Janus suggests instead, “I’m not sure they realize what Roman being the Ego means.”

 Thomas nods. “Okay, we can do that. Should we do that…now?”

 Janus opens his mouth to respond only for something very familiar to trickle into his mind, along with an all-too-familiar tug.

  Stupid, useless, worthless, toxic, dumb, unimportant, bad, can’t do anything right, selfish, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong—

 “Not now,” he manages, “get some rest. You need it.”

 Thomas nods tiredly. Remus just gives him a look that says ‘you’d better not fuck this up’ and leaves, probably to go work out some of his aggression on creatures in the Imagination.

 Janus sinks straight into Roman’s room and his heart breaks.

 Roman is on the floor, pieces of his prince costume thrown haphazardly around him, sobbing hysterically. It’s so loud that for a moment, Janus worries that someone else will come, trying to figure out what’s wrong, before he’s hit with another wave of lies.

  Broken broken broken broken broken broken broken broken wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong hopeless hopeless hopeless hopeless hopeless hopeless—

 He aches.

 Because he knows he can’t do anything while Roman’s awake. He’d never let him close, never let him see this. A sick feeling crawls into Janus’s stomach at the thought of invading Roman’s privacy like this but it wars with the knowledge that he’d be summoned anyway, and that Roman is falling apart.

 So he has to wait.

 Watching as Roman falls apart, believing himself unloved, unwanted, and unseen.

 Slowly, far too slowly, the harsh sobs morph into softer cries, then sniffles, then Roman stills, slumping on the carpet as his breathing evens out. Tears of his own threaten the corners of Janus’s eyes.

 The poor thing cried himself to sleep.

 But as he moves closer, reaching out a hand to stroke back his hair, he lets out a coo before he can stop himself when he sees more tears.

 The poor thing cried himself to sleep and kept crying.

 “Oh, sweetie,” Janus whispers, moving to cradle him as gently as he can without waking him, “sweetie you come here, shh, shh, honey, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

 He lifts the poor prince into his arms, moving swiftly to the bed and laying him down, tucking him in protectively and running his fingers through his hair.

 “It’s okay, sweetie, you’re safe now, it’s okay, you’re safe…” He settles Roman’s head on the pillow. “Shh, shh, shh, that’s it, shh…”

 Sleep-clumsy fingers curl around his arms. Oh. Oh, dear. Well…

 “Oh, sweetie, are you—do you want me to stay?” Janus tries to pull away a bit only for Roman to grumble and hang on. “Oh—okay, sweetie, I’ll stay, just—just a moment.”

 He snaps the fingers on a free hand and changes into something softer, something he can sleep in, something Roman can hold and cuddle. He slides into bed next to him, only to be immediately cuddled by a sleeping, still crying Roman.

 “Shh, sweetie,” he whispers, nuzzling Roman’s head, “I’m right here, I’m not leaving, I won’t leave you.”

 Roman mumbles something and snuggles into Janus’s chest. He makes another comforting noise at the evidence of more tears.

 “It’s gonna be okay, sweetie, I promise, I’ll look after you, I’ll take care of you.”

 And when Roman lets out a little cry, still asleep, he breaks, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

 Roman melts.

 “Oh, sweetie…”

 Janus spoils him with kisses, across his forehead, down his tear-stained cheeks, running his hands through his hair, down his arms, over his back, soothing a particularly painful hitch with a hand on his tummy, rubbing gently until he lapses back into a peaceful sleep. He buries his face in Roman’s hair and holds him tight.

 He swallows heavily, guilt and concern warring in his throat.

 “I don’t want you to think,” he begins carefully, “that I’m only apologizing because I feel guilty over seeing you hurt and that it’s my fault.”

 He tightens his grip on the sleeping prince.

 “I am sorry, Roman,” he whispers with his lips against Roman’s forehead as if to speak the truth into the prince’s dreams, “for all the hurt I have caused you. For using and manipulating you, for dismissing you and letting you think you were useless, and for letting the others make you believe you were so unlovable.”

 He shudders, his breath coming out shaky.

 “But mostly…” he swallows, “mostly I’m sorry that I won’t be brave enough to say that to you when you’re awake.”

 +1.

Janus blinks. There’s sunlight coming in through the curtains.

 His room definitely has curtains.

 Oh. Right. He’s in Roman’s room.

 Shit, he’s still in Roman’s room.

 He’s fallen asleep, he realizes, in Roman’s bed, with Roman cuddled protectively to his chest, after the poor thing had sobbed himself to sleep in the aftermath of that awful, awful meeting.

 Unconsciously, he goes to tighten his grip on the sleeping prince before realizing that he should be doing the opposite.

 He should leave. Now. Before Roman wakes up and sees him.

 He definitely wants to be around for that conversation.

 So, despite the ache in his stomach at the thought of leaving Roman alone right now, he grits his teeth and starts trying to disentangle himself from Roman, despite Roman’s best efforts to cling onto him. If he weren’t so afraid of the consequences of getting caught, he’d find it adorable.

 Okay, maybe he still finds it adorable.

 But Roman’s so soft when he sleeps, so lovely, so unabashed at chasing what he wants. He clings to Janus’s shirt with clumsy fingers, burbles soft noises of protest when Janus’s warmth leaves his side.

 “Come on, sweetie,” Janus coaxes, gently prying Roman’s fingers off, “let me go, you don’t want me to be here when you wake up.”

 “Mmno.”

 “You say that now…” He still won’t let go. “Come on, sweetie, let me go…”

 He leans down to press a kiss to his cheek, hoping Roman will melt and he can escape.

 “That’s it, just go back to sleep, sweetie,” he murmurs, his voice low and hypnotic, carding his fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead, “sleep, sleep, sleep…”

 “Stay,” comes the sleepy little mumble, its voice still lost in the dream, “take care ‘f me.”

 The earnest plea brings a sad little smile to Janus’s face.

 “If you knew who I was,” he whispers, “you wouldn’t ask that.”

 Roman opens his eyes and stares right at him.

 Janus freezes, his hands still caught in Roman’s hair, Roman’s hands still gripping his shirt.

 “Stay,” Roman repeats, his tongue thick with sleep but awake, “don’t run away this time.”

 This time?

 Oh.

  Oh.

  Oh, no.

 Janus swallows. “How long—“

 “You said you didn’t hate me,” Roman mumbles, still tugging on Janus’s shirt to get him back, “and that it hurt more that the others didn’t realize.”

 “You were supposed to be asleep.”

 “You were supposed to hate me.” Roman tugs harder. “Come back.”

 Janus gets slowly back into position, letting Roman cling to him like a child with a teddy bear. Without permission, his own arms wrap around the sleepy prince, and Roman all but purrs.

 “We c’n talk later,” the prince mumbles, already drifting back to sleep, “but stay. Want you to stay.”

 And…well, if it’s the first time Roman’s asked for something he wants in god knows how long, what else is Janus supposed to do but obey?

 “Alright, sweetie, I’m right here,” he murmurs, curling his arms tightly around the poor prince, “do you want to try and go back to sleep?”

 “Mm.”

 But his eyes don’t drift closed. Instead, they stay glassily alert, one hand fisted loosely in the slack of Janus’s shirt.

 “Sweetie,” Janus calls after a little, “do you want to change into something easier to sleep in?”

 He lifts one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug.

 “Can I help?”

 Another shrug. Janus tucks a loose piece of hair behind Roman’s ear, snapping his fingers to put the costume on the mannequin in the closet and replace it with a soft red shirt and boxers. He presses another kiss to Roman’s forehead and ruffles his hair.

 “Why don’t you hate me?”

 Janus frowns, pulling Roman closer. “How could I hate you?”

 He holds a finger gently up to the prince’s lips before the lies can fill Roman’s head again.

 “Let me rephrase: I don’t hate you, Roman, I promise.”

 Roman’s disbelief is palpable. “But why?”

 ...maybe he is going to have to do this.

 “I can hear lies,” he murmurs, “whenever someone says them or thinks them. If they’re not true, I’ll hear it. No, no—stay here, sweetie, shh, I’m not angry, I’m not disappointed. I can hear them when you tell yourself that you’re worthless, or toxic, or that we all hate you.”

 He lifts Roman’s chin gently.

 “They’re lies, sweetie, that’s why I can hear them. You’re not worthless, you’re not toxic.”

 Roman whimpers.

 “You’re not broken,” he continues softly, holding him still, “you’re not hard to love, we don’t hate you.”

 He cups Roman’s face and pulls him in to rest their foreheads together.

 “And I care about you, sweetie, so, so much.”

 Roman’s breath shudders warmly on his cheeks.

 “Shh, shh, oh, come here, sweetie—there you go, you can cry, honey, I’ve got you, I’m right here, shh, shh...”

 The weight of the prince’s tears drying on his collar makes it hard to swallow. He tugs the blankets closer around them and lets Roman cling onto him as he cries.

 “I know you don’t believe me,” he whispers as familiar lies start to drift across, “but it’s true, sweetie. It’s true, it’s true, I promise. I’m here to take care of you.”

 “I’m—I’m sorry—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sor—sorry—“

 “Shh-shh-shh, don’t apologize to me, sweetie, you don’t have to apologize, I’m right here, I’m not angry, nothing’s so bad.”

 “I’m sorry.”

 Janus hushes him gently with a kiss to his cheek. “I know you are...even though you don’t have to be, not like this.”

 His chest aches when Roman won’t stop burbling apologies.

 “Roman.” He takes the prince’s face firmly in his hands. “Roman, look at me.”

 Roman’s glassy eyes fixate on Janus’s face.

 “I forgive you, my prince,” he says, “I forgive you.”

 Roman’s mouth stills.

 “If that is what you need to hear,” he continues, softening his grip, “I forgive you, my prince.”

 “You...you do?”

 “I don’t want you to think that you need my forgiveness for me to love you,” Janus murmurs, “but yes, sweetie. I forgive you.”

 Roman collapses.

 Janus catches him. Of course, he catches him. He curls around his prince and murmurs sweet nothings, reassurances, anything he needs right now.

 It’s messy, it’s frantic, it’s desperate, it’s human.

 He can care for Roman while Roman lets himself be human. So he holds the poor thing while he cries himself out.

 He doesn’t cry himself to sleep again, thankfully, just enough to slump against Janus’s chest and huff.

 “Sorry.”

 “No need to apologize, that was long overdue.” He runs his knuckles up Roman’s back. “Can we get you something to drink?”

 Roman stiffens. “Does that mean going downstairs?”

 “No, sweetie. Come on...”

 He gets Roman seated on the edge of the bed with a glass of water in his hands. Roman drinks, blinking as Janus passes him a warm cloth, then a cool cloth, to clean his face.

 “What do they want me to do,” he asks after he’s finished the glass and the cloths are hanging over the laundry basket, “now?”

 Janus winces. Is he surprised? No.

 “Shh, sweetie, I’m not angry,” he soothes when Roman tenses, “I’m concerned. You’re still—you still need to take care of yourself first before you worry about everyone else.”

  But everyone else is worthy of the worrying, not me.

 Janus hisses gently. Roman just sighs.

 “It’s what you’ve told me,” he mumbles, “I don’t—I can’t just stop it.”

 “I’m not expecting you to be able to just stop it, sweetie, it’s going to take time, but part of it is going to be recognizing what’s not true.”

 “I know.”

 Janus opens his mouth to say something else when Roman gasps, his hand flying to his chest.

 “Sweetie? Sweetie, what is it?”

 “I’m—I’m being summoned.” Roman clutches his shirt, staring up at Janus. “Thomas—Thomas—“

 “I’ll go.” Janus gives Roman’s shoulder a squeeze. “Just wait here for me, sweetie, I’ll be right back.”

 He can still feel the warmth of Roman’s shoulder tingling under his palm as he appears in the living room.

 “I’m sure you have a wonderful reason for trying to summon Roman,” he drawls, raising an eyebrow at a Thomas.

 Thomas looks up from his computer. “We were still filming.”

 Janus stiffens. “You’re not thinking of trying to continue—“

 “What? No, no, I’m saying that while Roman was talking the camera was still rolling.” Thomas points to the screen. “Which means we have it. All of it.”

 Ah, now he sees where Thomas is going.

 “You want them to watch.”

 “They should, shouldn’t they?”

 Yes, a bitter part of Janus growls, they should see how badly they’ve made Thomas’s Ego crumble.

 “What do you think?”

 Thomas rolls his shoulders back. “I think up until Roman said...all of that, I didn’t think the others were wrong either.”

 He glances up at Janus.

 “Did you?”

 Janus huffs. “I don’t think we ever give Roman enough credit for how good of an actor he is.”

 With that, the whole sorry tale spills out of him. He doesn’t reveal the exact nature of the lies, just the broad swaths of them and how many there are. To Thomas’s credit, he deals with it better than Janus expected. That is, he doesn’t burst into tears.

 Thomas takes a deep breath.

 “...yeah, we’re watching this now.”

 “Right now?”

 “Answer me this,” Thomas says, looking up at him again, “where is Roman? Right now?”

 “...on his bed.” At Thomas’s pointed stare, he relents. “He’s not alright, Thomas, he hasn’t been for a very long time.”

 “Then yeah. Right now.”

 “Then I’m going to ask Roman if he wants to be here.”

 Thomas nods. “Can you—can you tell him I’m sorry?”

 “You can do that yourself when he’s ready to hear it.”

 Understandably, Roman does not want to be there. Janus wraps him tightly in the softest blankets he has, tucked up with a pillow and a glass of water nearby if he wants it, along with the reassurance that if Roman wants him back here, at any point, to call. He’ll listen.

 “Thank you.”

 Janus leaves him with one last squeeze, appearing in the living room with the others. Thomas is back to setting up the computer so they can all see the screen.

 “Thomas?” Logan adjusts his tie. “I was unaware we had something scheduled for today.”

 “We didn’t. Spur of the moment.”

 Remus shoots Janus a look. Janus nods. Remus shifts a little closer to him and his hand grips his Morningstar.

 “Is this about the video from yesterday?” Virgil looks around warily. “Or is it something else?”

 “It is about yesterday.”

 “Shouldn’t we...wait for Roman?”  Patton rubs the back of his neck. “He kinda—well, if we’re talking about yesterday—“

 “Roman’s not coming.” Thomas keeps fiddling with the computer.

 Logan raises an eyebrow. “Are we deciding how to film the video without Roman?”

 “No.” Thomas glances at Janus. Janus nods. Thomas looks back at the others. “Roman’s not coming because he doesn’t want to.”

 “What the fuck?”

 “Language, kiddo,” Patton mumbles halfheartedly.

 “Wait, so—“ Virgil doesn’t look so much as chided— “you’re just gonna let Princey throw his temper tantrum and not come work?”

 “How much attention were you guys paying to what happened after you sunk out yesterday?”

 “…not much, why?”

 In response, Thomas just pushes ‘play.’

 Their voices fill the room, telling Roman what he’s done wrong, why he’s holding all of them back, why he’s the source of all their problems. Lies, lies, and more lies. They get to the part where the other three sink out and Remus tightens his grip on the handle.

  “…you want me to apologize?”

 Virgil opens his mouth, presumably to make some quip, only to cut himself off with a strangled noise once Roman’s apologies begin.

 Janus watches with a sick sense of satisfaction as Patton’s hands fly to his mouth, eyes wide at the hopeless tone coming out of the computer. Next to him, Virgil goes rigid, borderline catatonic. He looks as if one little push would send him toppling over.

 He can’t see Logan’s face until Thomas stops the playback. It’s only when Logan takes his glasses off to clean them that he can see the tears on his cheeks.

 Thomas looks up at Janus.

 “Can you still hear them?”

 “The lies?” Thomas nods. “Yes.”

 There’s a moment of silence.

 “Roman is the Ego,” Logan whispers, mostly to himself, “Roman is the Ego. Of course…of course, I understand—I understand now.”

 “What does that mean?”

 Logan takes a deep breath and looks up at Patton. “It means that Roman is Thomas’s sense of self-worth, more or less, and that he—he takes the brunt of Thomas’s reactions to…any sort of feedback, more than any of us. Good or bad.”

 Virgil stifles a curse. “And we’ve taught him to hate himself.”

 “Quite.”

 “We—“ Patton takes a breath— “we need to apologize.”

 “We all do.” Thomas closes the computer and sets it aside. “I don’t…I don’t know how we do that, though.”

 “Breaking patterns of thinking is hard,” Logan says, “and…especially hard when you have been taught not to ask for help.”

 “But there has to be something!”

 “Touch-starved,” Virgil breaks in, staring at a spot on the carpet, “Roman’s touch-starved.”

 Janus raises an eyebrow.

 “…when I was still having trouble,” Virgil says after a moment of them all looking at him, “Roman—Roman would just come and ask me if I wanted to—to—“

 He hunches his shoulders.

 “Sometimes it’d be a hug. Sometimes he’d sit next to me and—and lean on me. Sometimes he’d just—you know, with the forehead thing—“

 “Bonk.”

 They all turn to Logan, who has…a surprising flush to his cheeks.

 “Roman said that he—he wanted to be able to express affection for me and not disturb my work,” he manages, “so we…came up with a solution.”

 Patton blinks. “Is that why Roman will just walk up to you and bonk his forehead against yours?”

 “Yes.”

 “Huh.”

 “That’s adorable,” Thomas says quietly, “that’s—wait, hang on, that’s really adorable.”

 “It was Roman’s idea.” Logan swallows. “Most of his ideas are good.”

 “Yeah,” Thomas says, “maybe we should try telling him that next time.”

 Janus looks around. The others look to be in various states of remorse and determination. With the exception of Remus, who still looks like he wants to bash a few of their skulls in.

 “…can we go hug Roman now?”

 “I wanna do that.”

 “If he’s—“ Logan glances between Thomas and Janus— “do you know if he would be amenable to that? If he—would like that?”

 “We can ask,” Janus says quietly, “but I don’t know.”

 “And if he says no,” Remus growls, “you get out.”

 “We understand, Remus,” Logan promises. He looks at Thomas. “Thank you, Thomas.”

 Thomas shakes his head. “Don’t thank me. Not yet. We all have stuff to fix.”

 Janus adjusts his cape. “Then let’s get started, shall we?”

 They don’t sink right to Roman’s room. Instead, Janus knocks quietly on the door and waits for the soft ‘yes?’ from the other side to open it.

 “Roman,” he calls softly, “hey, sweetie, why’re you over there?”

 Because Roman, the poor thing, is at his desk, trying to work.

 “I—um—“

 “I’m not angry, sweetie,” he murmurs, arms going around the prince to pull him up out of the desk chair, “just concerned.”

 “I figured that if I got to work they’d be less mad that I wasn’t there,” Roman mumbles, even as he lets Janus pull him back to the bed, “so I…”

 “Oh, sweetie, no one’s angry at you.”

 Roman looks up at him with such a heartbreaking look of disbelief that he lets out a soft noise, cupping his face.

 “Would you believe me if I said they want to apologize and make it up to you?”

 “No.”

 He squints. “Have you believed anything I’ve told you since you woke up?”

 “No.”

 The lack of hesitation makes his eyes widen. Leaning forward, he rests his forehead against Roman’s as he pulls off his gloves, reaching up to cup the prince’s head.

 “I meant every word,” he murmurs, doing his best to wipe away the bits of salt in the corners of his eyes, “every single word.”

 He pauses, then leans closer.

 “They’re sorry, Roman,” he whispers, “they’re so sorry and they want to know how to make it better.”

  They don’t want you. They hate you. They’ve never cared about you. They don’t even want to touch you.

 Janus hisses softly as he pulls Roman in for a hug. The poor thing still reacts like it’s the first time someone’s touched him in years.

 “They want to see you, sweetie,” he whispers, “and I believe their exact words were ‘can we go hug Roman now?’”

 “W-what?”

 In response, Janus pulls away a little and nods to the door. Roman’s eyes widen.

 “Can we let them in, sweetie?”

 “They’re here?”

 “Right outside.”

 “They want—they want to—“

 Roman’s desperate gaze flies to the door. He raises a shaking hand and lets it open.

 Patton’s through the door before it’s even all the way open. Roman lets out a wounded noise as Patton barrels into them, his arms wrapped around Roman before Janus can blink.

 “Pat—Patton—Pa—wha—?”

 “I’m sorry, Roman, I’m so sorry, kiddo—“

 Virgil follows not too long after, pulling Roman’s legs into his lap and reaching out to take Roman’s outstretched hand.

 “Hey, Princey,” he says, the growl from not five minutes ago softened to a low rumble, “missed you.”

 “Mis—miss—missed me?”

 “Yeah, Roman, missed you. Didn’t feel the same without you there.”

 Then Logan. As Patton and Virgil move to get Roman into a more comfortable position, Logan sits behind him so that when Roman leans back, his head rests against Logan’s shoulder. Logan reaches up to tangle his fingers in Roman’s hair, smiling softly at the low noise from Roman’s throat.

 “Bonk?”

 Roman nods, still blinking in confusion but lets Logan press his forehead gently to his.

 “Thank you, little star,” he murmurs, smiling at the way Roman’s mouth falls open, “I didn’t forget, Roman, even if I haven’t been the best at showing it.”

 “We don’t hate you, Princey,” Virgil says, squeezing his hand, “and we—well, we owe you one hell of an apology.”

 “But we don’t have to talk about that now.” Patton adjusts his grip around Roman’s waist. “Not if you don’t want to.”

 Remus picks this moment to not walk through the door and climb onto the bed but to sink down through the ceiling and land on top of them.

 “Re!”

 “Hey, Ro-Bro.”

 “Re, get off, you—it’s too much.”

Remus rolls to the side, right into Janus’s lap, effectively making sure that none of them are leaving, not that they particularly wanted to.

 Janus watches as Roman slowly asks if they can stay like this for a while, smiling when the answer is a resounding ‘yes,’ the cuddle pile closing in around their prince. Roman’s head rests against the crook of Logan’s neck, one of his hands wrapped in Janus’s, the other in Virgil’s. His legs lie in Virgil’s lap, Patton cuddling him protectively as Logan strokes his head. Remus and Janus keep watch, sentries over the resting prince.

 For the first time, in a long time, as Roman drifts off to sleep, the only lie in his head is this won’t last forever.

 They’ve got time to prove him wrong.

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[hivequest]

Taking a Risk » Mallek Adalov/Reader

Wordcount: 2.3k words

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, stressed out reader, chillboy Mallek. TYping quirk only used when texting cause I could not be bothered lmao Originally posted on AO3

A/N: One of my favorite things that I’ve written, ever. I love Mallek and he’s for sure one of my favorite Friendsim characters. When I wrote this I was really feeling those Quarantine Woes

You didn't know what you were doing here. You felt out of place in the worst possible ways. It was a weird, squidgy feeling like stepping on wet grass. But not like the fun kind where you were running around in a sprinkler on a hot-as-balls summer day. No, this was the bad kind of wet grass that you stepped on without knowing it was wet. Why weren't you wearing shoes?

This analogy is stupid. The point is, you're feeling bummed out.

And what better way to not have to deal with that than hang out with someone you knew wouldn't push you into talking about all the ways crashing on this planet sucked! The point is, you're on your way to see Mallek. Mallek is absolutely the kind of friend who can tell when you just need to sit down and veg out. You had been so caught up in everyone else's bullshit that you weren't looking after your own damn self. So now you were doing that.

All it took was a quick text, asking Mallek if he had any company. He texted back only a moment later with a no, obviously not. You asked him if he wanted any. Not really. You ask him if you can come over anyway. Obviously.

You smiled at the palmhusk in your, well, palm. You could already feel the chill vibes of your hacker friend. Friend? Was that the right word for it? You didn't know anymore. When you first met there were definitely some sparks there. You could still feel them now and it made weird butterflies flutter around in your stomach. When you slapped his phone out of his hand and he sent you ass over applecart into the slimy depths of sewer water and he saved you, tits out and all.

You shook off the weird wistful feeling of maybe possibly crossing the friendship barrier and told him you'd walk to his hive. You'd been moping in some bookhive, not your usual hang-out spot with Tagora or Tyzias. This was some upper caste bookhive with purple bloods and some indigos and definitely not where you were welcome if the looks you were getting were any indication. They ranged from snooty to downright murderous. Yeesh.

Your phone -palmhusk, stupid troll names- beeped again. You got another text from him and those cheery fucking butterflies were back. God, you had it bad.

yeah were not doing that lmao;

im not going to let my robobuddy walk out in the sun

do you even know what time of day it =

just stay put ive already got your location ill pick you up;

And like a good little friendsimp. You park your ass on a chair and wait. You hadn't released your moping had taken up most of the night. But with the quick look around, yeah, no, this place was nearly empty by now. Just some older bluebloods trying to cram before their Ordeals and get shipped off-planet. Again: Yeesh.

You kept your ears open for the telltale sound of Mallek's limo. It was a sound you were getting used to these days. He always seemed ready to drop whatever coding shit he was working on to come to see you. You tried not to think too hard on what that might mean. No need to get your hopes up now. It's probably just your bad mood making you imagine some context where there's nothing. Yeah.

Damn, that shit hurted.

Just as you were about to add that to the reasons you were considering just screaming your lungs out who cares whose listening? you heard the wonderfully familiar sound of an approaching elongated scuttlebuggy. If that wasn't enough of a clue as to who the ride was for the quiet of the bookhive was very abruptly disturbed by a series of rhythmic beeps.

Holy shit was that the Tetris theme?

You shoved your palmhusk into your hoodie pocket and yanked the hood over your head. Even if the sun was only out a little bit you didn't want it anywhere near your freshly healed skin. You had no kind cowgirl to nurse you back to health right now if you got your asscheeks baked by the flaming death orb. You peeked your head out and even with the blinding light of Alternia's suns you could Mallek had opened the door and was waiting for you.

Aw. No, shit. You're in a bad mood don't get all heart eyes at him. Don't make it weird.

You took a few steps back into the bookhive, ready to make a run for it. You turn to a sitting indigoblood, who is just staring at you disdainfully for keeping the door open. You give her a two-fingered salute. Godspeed young cosmonaut. She gives you a one-fingered salute. Close the door you insufferable bulgebiter. Fair.

Taking a running start, you book it out into the heat of the Alternian sun and dive for the open car door. It's then that you realize he's halfway parked on the sidewalk to lessen the amount of time you'd have to spend in the sun. Aw. That also means that you came barreling like a cannonball at something that was like two feet out of the door. FUck.

Your face meets carpet and you can already feel the rugburn starting to set in. You hear a startled wheezy laugh from above you, a sound you know better than anyone else on this planet. You smile. It's not like you had any dignity to begin with.

You say hello to him as you peel yourself off of the floor of his car.

"Hey, there robobuddy. You stuck the landing this time," He smiles down at you as he reaches over you to shut the door, closing the space out from natural light and leaving you both lit by his colorful LEDs. You shrug and tell him you've been getting a lot of practice landing on your face these days. The look he gives you is still smiling but there's some level of disbelief at the dumbassery that is your whole existence.

"I know you can get yourself into it. Nothing too bad this time, though, right? No drones or broken bones?" He sounds concerned which is nice but he doesn't drown you with his concern. He leans back on the bench of his limo, keeping an eye on you as the vehicle begins to move on its own. You've been staying out of big messes but the little messes are starting to mess with you. He makes a sound of understanding the sounds as it comes from deep in his chest. Whoa. "Believe me, I've been there. Glad you're not cracking under it though."

He smiles and you can see his little fang and you can feel your heart melt a little. And also you're getting a bit teary-eyed and now Mallek looks alarmed. Shit. You try to quickly explain that you're fine, just, alien allergies am I right? He must be using some new air freshener to mask the musty smell of his limo. Since doesn't use it enough. Ha ha?

He isn't buying it.

With a rare show of cerulean prowess, he lifts you up off of the shitty car rug and sets you on the seat beside him. He feels uncomfortable and you can tell. Ah, goddammit you made it weird. You didn't mean to. Fuck. Fuck now you're feeling even worse. You thought you were starting to balance out. You're with Mallek now, shouldn't everything start to quiet down like it always does? Fuck. He doesn't say anything at first, just leans back against the seat and stretches his arms across it, letting you lean on him if you choose to.

...You choose to.

Your head finds itself somewhere between his shoulder and his collarbone, and you just. Shove your face there. Then scream.

To his credit, Mallek doesn't even flinch. He doesn't wince or shy away from you as you let out every bit of anger, sadness, and frustration out against his sweater. He just sits quietly, staring straight at the blacked-out windshield. You get the feeling he's needed to do this more than once.

Screw this planet. Screw everything about it that makes all of your friends suffer. Why can't you just get them away from all this bullshit?! Why do you have to deal with everyone's bullshit! You love them, you do but holy fuck they're looking to you like you can undo all the damage this place has done to them when you've got literally no god damn idea what's happening at any point ever!

And then, just like that, it fades into the background. Your throat hurts. Your head hurts and you think you might be crying. But it feels lighter. Better now that you've gotten some of that aggression out. You aren't like the trolls on Alternia. You can't kill people when you experience an Emotion™. But that doesn't mean you don't get pent up with rage.

Mallek realizes that now. He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and his left hand slowly moves down from the back of the seat the rest against your back. His thumb brushes against your back, the claw drawing little patterns against the fabric of your sweater. His sweater. He tries not to think his sign your chest. This isn't the time.

"Feeling any better?" He asks and you don't know how to answer. You kinda don't want to. But you nod anyways, and you feel some tension leave his body. You knew he was worried about you. You apologize for making him witness your meltdown but he just makes another deep-chested hum. "Nothing to apologize for. I got the feeling you weren't feeling great. I could tell from the texts, you didn't use nearly enough ugly emojis."

You scoff and smack a hand against his chest and once again you hear that wonderful laugh from him. Hey! Your purrbeast emojis are adorable, thank you very much! And you'll not hear another word of it or else you'll send him pictures of rocks and rocks exclusively. No more memes.

"Jokes on you I'm into that shit." You laugh and thump your head against his collarbone. You thank him for being with you when were needed it. And picking you up to make sure you didn't deal with it alone. You don't want to make it weird but...yeah.

He doesn't respond this time, just letting you both enjoy the silence and the comforting sound of the engine. You should almost be at Mallek's apartment by now. It's as you're settling in for the last bit of the drive that you notice that the limo isn't moving. And hasn't been for a while. Your head pops up in confusion and the little GPS display on the back of one of the seats says... yep.

You're already at Mallek's.

But then why is the engine still on? That can't be good for the environment. Do these things even run on gas or is it bugs? Bug gas? Gross.

You notice then that the rumbling is coming from behind you. Like. From where Mallek is sitting. He doesn't look away when you turn to him, just kind of tilting his head to the side with a little bit of a cerulean hue to his cheeks. Oh. Oh, the sound is coming from him. He's purring. That's.

That's adorable.

You feel yourself soften even more when he lifts his arms, silently offering a hug if you want it. Is this platonic? Is this more? You've never had too much trouble identifying what people wanted from you. (Debatable.) If was overtly flushed you could shut it down or divert it to something very much friends only. (Like your every exchange with Zebruh.) But did you even want to do that to your hackerman? You could feel yourself screaming, no, absolutely not. But at the same time, you didn't want things to change. You didn't want to make his issues any worse than they already were. He didn't have too much longer on the planet and you knew it would tear him apart.

But then he turned those blue eyes to you. He looked just as unsure as you were but he was willing to take the risk. He shoved himself so far out of his comfort zone for you and was asking you to be selfish. To want something for yourself and do something for yourself. Not put him or anyone else's wants first. Just your own. And so you did.

You crawled up into his lap, pressed yourself as close to him as you could and clung to him. His arms didn't hesitate to wrap around you and you could feel a shuddering breath from above you.

"We don't have to put a label on this... not yet. Or ever. Either way is chill with me. I just... yeah." He gave up with a little shrug of his shoulders but you knew what he meant. Unless you could find a way to fight fate he was going to go off-world. He was going to leave you and you doubted you'd be able to go with him. You'd probably get gored by a drone for even trying.

But even if it was just for now, just for a moment, you were going to take it. You were going to let yourself have something, have someone who would care for you no matter how long or short your time was. You'd take it. You had stomached some of the most horrible things on this planet but Mallek had always been a constant. And you got the feeling he thought the same way about you.

So, you'd take it. Whatever comes next, you'd take it. You listened to the sound of his purring, in no hurry to move to get inside the apartment. Mallek felt the same.

You exhaled.

You would be okay.

[sleepypaladiknight]

OK FIC IDEA:

that one au where you can hear your soulmate singing out loud in your head- but leopika

leorio wasn’t much of a singer as a child- the impoverished corner of the world he lived in didn’t have much music to sing to, either. the closest he’s got were the staticky, muffled and clipped tunes that rattled out of the neighbor’s radio. that’s why he’s always preferred listening- listening to his soulmate’s songs.

it was in a language he didn’t understand, but it was the clearest, sweetest music he’s ever heard. he memorized those humble tunes and lullabies, tracing the foreign syllables over and over with his tongue and humming the melodies nobody but him and his soulmate knew. he carved his soulmate’s voice into his mind, bragging to Pietro about his melodic partner and how he couldn’t wait to meet him.

then one day they stopped.

he found it coincidental- that it was on the same day Pietro passed away from illness. but it was fitting- it was a day where all the music and life left him.

as years went on his hopes of hearing his soulmate’s comforting tune dwindled away, but the music and the tunes he cherished so much as a boy remained, even as he learned new songs to sing to in the world around him. he’d sing out as loudly as he could, the raunchiest and most irritatingly popular songs he knew on some days, hoping offhandedly to lure the music from his partner again and hear that kind, soft voice just one more time. it never worked.

so, he swore to never sing that song, that one soft melody, until he heard it from his soulmate themself.

then he met kurapika. a guy who didn’t sing at all, and whose expression alone sang out his melancholies. his voice was prim and strict, the annoying, uppity kind that made Leorio’s blood boil, but it was familiar.

in the confines of trick tower, the topic began to stray.

“your soulmate must love your singing.” he teased.

the blond seemed to hesitate, and didn’t meet his eye. “i don’t care about soulmates.” kurapika’s voice sounded almost sad. “it would be for the better if mine never meets me at all.”

“yeesh, that’s real positive of you.”

“and what about you?” he said almost accusingly. “what do you think of your soulmate?”

“i don’t care about my soulmate, either,” he bit out, “but it’s for a good reason. mine stopped singing to me.”

“they must have their reasons.”

“which are probably as pompous and bratty as you!”

then they were back to their usual bickering. life went on, and his ambitions neared with every step of the journey he completed. their little group parted ways to chase after their own interests and dreams, and for around a year, leorio never saw one of them face to face.

then kurapika showed up on a cloudy evening, after billions and gazillions of ignored calls and texts left on delivered. they exchanged apologies and grievances and angers, embraced each other and shared glances that lasted a few seconds too long as they talked.

for some reason, kurapika had a strained look on his face when leorio began to sing the lyrics to some queen song. he wouldn’t even look at him, but leorio shrugged it off as usual angsty behavior.

they found themselves on the rickety balcony of leorio’s cheap apartment, looking out over the city.

“so, still given up on your soulmate?”

kurapika said nothing.

“well, me too, i guess.” he sighed out. “i lied to you- back at the exam when i told you i didn’t care about my soulmate. i,” he laughed, a bittersweet sound, “i actually cared a lot. it just felt easier to deny it. it’s... pretty damn hard facing the idea that maybe my soulmate really doesn’t care anymore, doesn’t want to meet me. maybe they’re gone. maybe they hate my voice or something- from what i remember, they were a hella good singer. nice, bright voice and everything. maybe they didn’t wanna end up with someone musically talentless like me. maybe that one time i sang ‘call me maybe’ in the shower was the last straw.”

and to his delight, it drew a soft chuckle from the blonde leaning against the railing next to him, arms brushing and shoulders touching. his hair looked like silver in the moonlight. still, kurapika didn’t reply.

so leorio forged on.

“i, uh, already told you my soulmate stopped singing. like, completely. but i still remember the songs they used to sing. they were a huge comfort to me when i was little, when things were hard and a little bit of song was something people couldn’t even afford. i didn’t even know what the words mean, still don’t, but all i know is that they meant the world to me.” leorio glanced at kurapika with a sheepish smile. “wanna hear? so maybe you can hunt down the bastard that left me hanging?”

“sure.” his voice was scratchy, almost pained.

and leorio began gently. kindly. he was sure his accent was off- it didn’t roll off his tongue as fluently as it did for his soulmate all those years ago. but the sounds and the tune was the same- the one that he’s devotedly committed to memory, the one that he hastily wrote down on a piece of binder paper as a reminder of the comfort his soulmate used to bring, the one that he swore to never forget- it was his soulmate’s last song.

when he tapered off into absentminded humming, he realized kurapika was crying. his eyes were blown wide, flecks of magenta shimmering across the deep, scarlet hue of his irises. tears rolled down his soft, pale cheeks, glinting like diamonds in the moon’s embrace, falling on a dampened shirt that clasped trembling shoulders. leorio felt clumsy and dumb, trying to soothe kurapika, asking him what was wrong, if he was okay- then kurapika began to choke out words, rubbing away at his eyes with his arms.

“how do you know that song.” it wasn’t a question, it was a demand.

“i already told you, my soul-“

“no. you don’t understand. it’s a very personal song. a traditional song.” kurapika teared up again, liquid sadness welling up in his eyes. “it’s a song- a lullaby- that i’ve forgotten for the longest time. it’s my mother’s.”

leorio gaped, “your mom was my soulmate?!”

“no, you idiot!” Kurapika couldn’t help but laugh through his tears, beating a fist against leorio’s chest. they burst into a fit of laughter, boisterously cackling in the silence of the night, overpowering the honking cars in the streets below and the sound of their worries adrift in their heads. nothing but them existed.

kurapika’s hand remained there, on leorio’s chest, starting to clench at the fabric of his dress shirt. they were silent, for seconds, minutes, maybe hours, until Leorio’s hand drifted up to meet it, brushing gently against the soft, scarred skin of Kurapika’s slender fingers.

“i’m sorry.” kurapika whispered softly, barely above his breath. “i wasn’t fair to you. you were always trying, always singing to me.”

leorio couldn’t speak.

“i’ve been hearing your voice for years now. you and your- your stupid songs-“ he laughed out, but it sounded more like a choked sob.

leorio couldn’t breathe.

“i didn’t mean to make you lose hope. but i was hoping you would, so you wouldn’t chase after someone like me.”

leorio couldn’t think.

kurapika was leaning closer, voice growing quieter and quieter until they had to be inches apart to hear, to exchange words.

“i couldn‘t bring myself to sing. i didn’t have a reason to, not anymore. not after what happened to my clan. i noticed you stopped singing for a time, too. but it only took months before you began again, gaining more momentum with every song. i envied you and your strength.”

kurapika had started to shake, small frame shuddering against leorio’s. without thinking, he brought his other hand up to thumb away a tear that had begun trickling down kurapika’s face.

“i wanted to sing to you too, but all the songs i wished to teach you had disappeared from my memory. i was so preoccupied with my goals, that i... i began to forget the things that mattered more. what the faces of my family and my old friends looked like. what the lukso sunlight felt like on my skin, or how the grass felt underneath my feet. what the croons of a happy piko bird sounded like, or how beautifully blue the sky was on a sunny day. what my mother’s voice sounded like, what the words to her songs were, i, i-” kurapika sobbed, “i betrayed myself and my entire clan. i thought i had truly lost them and the part of myself that i swore i wouldn’t let die.”

their foreheads fell together, touching reassuringly. kurapika’s eyes fluttered closed as he spoke, body rendered as fragile as his voice, his feelings, his heart. leorio held each with careful, treasuring hands.

”i’d become a monster. a stranger in the same body i walked my home with. i thought- i thought that my soulmate didn’t deserve someone like that. someone like me.” he heaved out, chest shuddering with every quiet breath, “you don’t deserve someone like me, and i could never-“

and leorio shut that bullshit up with his lips.

they slotted together perfectly. call him disgustingly cheesy, sappy, any romantically insulting insult you could throw- but it felt like harmony. it felt so beautiful, his emotions crescendoing and his heart thrumming mercilessly in his chest as it fitted against kurapika’s. those soft, slightly chapped lips, damp from the tears that had trickled past them, felt perfect on his, like his lips were made to meet them. and just as easily as he had lost the music and life all those years ago, it was returned to him, in the form of a blond, pressed up against him and demanding for more, more, more with his mouth, hands all over his shoulders, fingers tangled in hair, breathing in each other, kissing like it was the very last thing they could do.

when they parted, leorio let himself get intoxicated by the sound of kurapika’s panting, drunk on the soft sounds that spilled past his lips like music.

”cut- cut the crap,” he breathed out, pulling kurapika closer by the waist and burying his head in his head of gold. ”for the rest of my life, stop talking. and start singing.”

[sergeantsporks]

Summer School

Rating: General Audiences, Gen

Part 3 of Camila is Hunter’s Mom Now

You know how there was always that one kid who was smarter than everyone else, and then they transfer to a new school, and suddenly they're not the smartest one there anymore? Yeah. Hunter finds out that nothing in the Boiling Isles prepared him for a human high-school education.

Ao3

“Hey. Thanks for meeting up with me, I know you’re busy.” Camila sat down in a chair, motioning for Hunter to sit down next to her.

An old man—the nameplate on his desk pronounced him “Principal Hal”—sighed. “Yes. Of course, Miss Noceda.”

“I’ve found… alternate schooling methods for Luz, but I’ve enrolled my two other children, Vee and Hunter in school.”

“I know.”

“Eheh. Right. The thing is… Hunter hasn’t ever… had any kind of formal schooling. So… he’s never taken higher maths, or sciences. He doesn’t know algebra, or chemistry, or…”

Principal Hal heaved another sigh. “So, what exactly does he know?”

Hunter crossed his arms. “I know thirteen different ways to kill you where you sit,” he snapped.

Camila shot him a look. “He can read, and write, and do basic math—it’s just high school, really. Oh, and history, he hasn’t ever taken a history course.”

“Well, we have summer school options—it’s a bit late, but we can look at squeezing him in. And Vee?”

“Vee went to summer camp, and she did very well there, she should be just fine.”

“Hm. Well, I’m very sorry that Luz won’t be joining us this year—”

“No, you’re not,” Camila muttered.

“—but I’m very glad she’s found a schooling system that… works better for her.” Principal Hal scribbled something down on a piece of paper, and handed it to Camila. “Take that to the front office, and they’ll get you the textbooks Hunter will need for his summer schooling.” Principal Hal looked like he’d bitten into a lemon. “I… look forward to having you as a student here, young man.”

Hunter inclined his head. “Thank you for your time, sir.”

He followed Camila out of the office. “I don’t think he likes me.”

“You threatened to kill him thirteen different ways. I don’t blame him. That was very nice at the end, though, thank you.”

Hunter felt a warm glow in his chest at the praise. “How come Luz isn’t coming?”

“Luz… never did well in school. And she’s determined to go back to Hexside, so I’ve enrolled her in some online courses so that she won’t fall behind on human studies, and if she can get through the Boiling Isles, I’ll… let her continue her education there. If she promises to check in frequently, and hide the portal very, very well.” Camila stopped in front of a wide desk, handing the secretary the piece of paper that Principal Hal had handed her.

The secretary disappeared and came back with a stack of books that she pushed to Hunter. “First class is Monday, you’ll be with the sophomores retaking algebra. Welcome to the family.”

Hunter picked up the books gingerly, trailing behind Camila. “Why does this book have a lizard on it if it’s a math book?”

Camila unlocked the car, climbing into the driver’s seat. “Great question. I don’t know.”

“What’s a sophomore?”

“Second year of high-school. You’ll be a junior, a third year.”

The lower class. With the students who’d failed algebra the first go round. Hunter’s ears burned, and he cracked open the algebra book, staring at the numbers. “I can read this outside of class?”

“Sure, if you want to.”

By the time they got home, Hunter was deep in. He kept reading as he walked inside, going straight to the kitchen table and setting the books down. He could figure this out—and then he could move up, at the very least to the regular second year level. He still had time before he officially started school—he could learn all of this.

Luz came bouncing down the stairs. “Amity responded! I have no clue how this thing works across dimensions, but I am so glad—hey, whatcha reading, Hunter?”

He didn’t look up. “Algebra.” He flipped the page, and neat, numbered rows of problems faced him. “Hey, they give you practice problems!”

“Blech, I thought you were my brother, Hunter. Math? When you don’t have to?”

“I’m behind. I need to catch up, or I’ll be stuck in lower grades.”

“Oh, right. Prodigy with extreme fear of failure. I forgot.”

Hunter tuned her out, digging out his old sketchpad and copying the first problem, flipping back in the book for the solving process. “Mhm.”

“Anyway, now that I can contact Amity, we’re going to work on opening a portal from their end.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She has the titan’s blood and ingredients on her end—hopefully it won’t be long before she can figure it out.”

Hunter frowned, checking over his work. “Mmm.”

“Watch out, there’s a deadly monster behind you.”

“K.”

Luz heaved a long-suffering sigh and left him to the book. Hunter re-read the lesson, then flipped back to the problems.

I can do this.

The day passed by in a blur, Hunter plugged through the book, slowly but surely. At least this made sense—everything had a logical, calculable end. It wasn’t like magic, where intent and emotion played factors.

“Hunter—Hunter, it’s time for dinner.”

Hunter barely heard Camila, glaring at the quadratic formula. He kept misplacing a negative, he was pretty sure.

A hand reached over and closed the book with a thump. “Hunter. Give your brain a break and eat something, mijo.”

Hunter struggled to pull the book open against Camila’s hand. “I’ve almost got this one figured out—I can get it—”

“Dinner. Math can come after.” Camila cleared the book away. “I’m glad you’re taking school seriously, but it’s important for you to do other things, too. Don’t worry—you’ll catch up, you’re a smart kid.”

“I need to—”

“What you need to do is take a break and eat. Come on, help me set the table.”

Hunter slowly got up and opened the drawer for napkins. His stomach growled at the smell coming from the stove. Alright, maybe it was time he took a break. Look at you, Golden Guard. All… domestic.

“Luz! Vee!” Camila called, “Dinner!”

Vee came bounding down the stairs, but Luz was nowhere to be seen.

“Luz!” Camila called again.

“She’s looking at potential wild portal spots,” Vee explained.

“Ayiyi. One won’t put down his math textbook and the other one won’t stop looking for a way into the demon realm.” Camila thumped up the stairs, and Vee poked at the algebra book.

“Algebra can be tricky. We did a lot of math-y stuff back at camp. Where are you?”

“Quadratic formula.”

“Already?”

Hunter shrugged. “I’m a quick learner.”

Luz bumped down the stairs, Camila shooing her onwards. “You and Hunter are going to get healthy eating and working habits if it kills me!”

After dinner, Vee started on the dishes, and Hunter opened up the math book again. I am going to figure this out.

After a while, Luz and Vee disappeared upstairs. Camila put a hand on his shoulder with a yawn. “Don’t stay up too late, ‘kay?”

“Mhm.”

Camila flipped off all of the lights except the kitchen one.

Red fluttered down to his shoulder as he yawned, chirping that he ought to go to bed.

“I’m so close. Just one more lesson.”

Xxx

Camila blinked blearily at her alarm as it beeped at her. She yawned, changing into her scrubs and heading down the stairs. The kitchen light was still on, Hunter slumped on the table, his algebra book open next to him. Camila gently slid the pencil out of his hand, scooping him up and moving him to the couch. He nestled into the cushions with a sigh, Red landing on his chest and closing its eyes with a sleepy cheep

“Oh, what am I going to do with you?” Camila sighed. She glanced at the textbook, then grabbed a few sticky notes, writing ‘remember to take a break’ on them and sticking them in the book every few lessons. She shook her head, grabbing her keys and flipping off the kitchen light. “Buenos noches, mijo.”

Xxx

“Hunter. Hey, Hunter. Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuunter.”

Hunter snapped awake, sitting up so fast he nearly head-butted Luz in the face. Red slid off of his chest, flapping its wings frantically to right itself.

“Wow, you’re twitchy.”

Hunter yawned. When had he moved to the couch? He didn’t even remember falling asleep! “Hngh—what time is it?”

“Nine-o-clock, sleepy-head! Hey, you know a lot about titan’s blood, right? You think you could look over some stuff and tell me which you think is most likely to be a wild portal?”

Hunter rubbed his eyes. “If you can see the demon realm in the water, it’s a wild portal. Oh, or if the water is boiling hot.”

“You mean like a geyser?”

“I wouldn’t recommend jumping into one of those, but yes. Like a geyser.”

“Hmmmm.” Luz picked up his sketchpad from the table. “You need any help with math? Can’t say I’ll actually be ABLE to help you, but—”

Hunter snatched the sketchpad away. “I don’t need help,” he snapped.

“Yeesh. Okay. Have fun with your numbers.”

Hunter shuffled to the table. A single sticky note was stuck to the cover of the book.

Don’t forget to eat breakfast, it read cheerfully.

Ah. Camila.

Hunter went to the pantry and shoved a protein bar in his mouth. There. Breakfast. He opened the math textbook again, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Alright. Three quarters of a math book, one day to go before summer school. He could do this. One more all-nighter.

“Whoa.” Vee peered over his shoulder at his sketchpad. “Hey, why don’t you… come on out with me. I’ll introduce you to my friends from cabin seven. You need to touch grass.”

Hunter scribbled through a line of numbers. Wrong. “Nope. I’m busy.”

“You know that you’re supposed to learn this stuff at summer school, right? Not two days beforehand.”

“I’m learning it now, so I’ll be prepared for what they want me to do there.”

“Uh… that’s not how it’s supposed to—”

“I can’t be in the class with the failures!” Hunter blurted.

Vee blinked. “Oh.”

Hunter flipped the cover of the book back and forth, his other hand tapping on the table. “I’ve got to learn this now, so that they’ll move me up to the next subject—I’m two years behind, Vee, and don’t even get me started on history!”

“That’s not your fault.”

“I can’t fail here—being here in the human realm is my second chance, and I can’t blow it! Camila thinks I’m smart, and I can’t prove her wrong!”

Vee sat down at the table next to him. “Whoa. Okay. Calm down, Hunter. You are smart, and that has nothing to do with how good at math you are.” She gestured to his sketchpad. “Look at how far you came in a day by yourself!”

Hunter slammed his hand down on the table. “It’s not enough, I’m still way behind!”

“Hunter. Hey, Hunter. Listen. You… don’t have to be the best at everything, okay?”

“Yes, I do, that’s how this works.”

“No. It’s really not. You don’t have to be the best. As long as you’re doing as well as you can… that’s what matters to Camila, okay? Even if you don’t succeed. Camila thinks you’re smart because you are. You don’t have to prove it to her. And you don’t have to pull all-nighters and learn the entirety of algebra in two days to be smart. C’mon, you need to quit focusing on school for a few hours.”

Hunter ran a hand through his hair. “Just a few more lessons—

“No.” Vee snatched the textbook away. “I’m going to keep this until you take a break. And maybe a nap, you look like you didn’t get any sleep.”

“What? No, I didn’t mean to, but I did fall asleep.”

“Hunter.”

“Fine, fine, you win. I’ll just steal it back later.”

She yanked his hood over his head. “Good luck. Just a couple of hours not doing algebra, Hunter.”

“Fine. I guess I can do that.”

“Good. Come on, let’s go meet up with my friends, they’ll predict your future with hexes hold ‘em cards.”

“I understood all of those words separately. Are your friends…okay?”

Vee grinned. “Trust me. They’re gonna love you.”

[mxtcha-tea]

useless love letter with oikawa & kuroo?

Useless Love Letter.2

✎desc; when he receives a love letter from someone else and you’re unphased by it.

✎pairing[s]; kuroo x gn!reader (let me know if i miss any)

✎genre; angst, unrequited love (not proofread)

✎language[s]; english

✎chef note; I ran out of ideas so I can't do Oikawa's part (my motivation istg smh)

It’s always been you, Kuroo and Yaku. You three all became friends a lot more quicker than anyone could’ve expected. And the friendship started the same way, from Kuroo annoying you two and becoming enemies when you first met.

Kuroo’s the one who bands you all together into this lump of mess and y’know, he’s glad that he did. High school couldn’t be even more exciting with both of you by his side.

But the more time passed, the more his feelings for you took a slight turn. It was the end of summer when Kuroo started realizing it. You came to his house because you forgot to do the homeworks they’ve given before summer starts.

Sure, it was a pain in the ass having to deal with your complaints and groan echoing every corner of his room. He thought about kicking your out right that instant but something in him told himself to just let you stay there longer.

Watching you from the corner of his eyes, freezing like a statue while squinting your eyes at your exercise book, a pen between your upper lips and nose. It’s not the prettiest image, he had to admit, but you look the most beautiful when you’re doing the most random poses.

Then, his mind drifted to every key memory of you, the way his cheeks would turn into a rosy color when your skin met or when his mind malfunctioned when you held eye contact with him. You drive him insane and Kuroo has no idea if it’s a good thing or not.

But it sure gave him butterflies and made him feel at home. So, maybe it is a good thing. He’ll always have sleepless nights where he can’t think of anything else other than you. He hates it when it happens because it made him feel like a creep.

Kuroo wondered if you felt the same. When he blushes, would you react the same? When he stuttered out, would you do the same? He wasn’t entirely sure, so he tried his best to be as close to you than he’ll ever be.

Even if it may take forever to let those 3 words out from his vocal chords, it’ll be worth it, he knows it.

The bell rang, signalling end of the 3rd period. Yaku sighed, cracking his knuckles before walking towards your desk. Kuroo can be seen sitting in front of you, probably annoying you yet again, “Hey, [y/n], have you written any notes during class?”

Yaku asked, reaching for the nearest chair and sitting on it, leaning his arms onto your desk, “A little,” “Only a little? I honestly thought that you’re not going to write anything,” You tch’ed, holding out your middle finger at Kuroo while the bedhead just snickered,

“It’s none of your business, Mount Fuji hair,” But at that, Kuroo snapped. Yaku tried to hold in his laughs and hitting the desk a little, “Oi, stop coming up with new nicknames for me,” “No, I think that nickname suits you the most, Mount Fuji hair, Mount Fuji hair,”

Now it’s your turn to snicker at him while mockingly pointing at his hair. Yaku finally releases his laugh while holding you for support. For some reasons, that action pissed him a lot more.

Who did he think he is to just touch you like that? But he managed to calm himself as he points at you, trying to figure out a better remark to counter your insult,

“How ironic hearing it from-” “UM, SORRY,” He got cut off as he looked to his left, finding a girl, probably from a different class standing next to him with a nervous face.

Both you and Yaku stopped laughing and also took your attention on the girl. With shaky hands, she holds out a letter to Kuroo. All three of you went wide eyes at that as the same exact words run across your minds,

‘A CONFESSION LETTER?!’

“Please accept this!” He slowly takes the letter from the girl’s hand, nodding, “Oh, um, okay,” And with that, the girl ran out from the classroom, face visibly red from being nervous and probably embarrassment.

It was silence before all of you looks at the letter in Kuroo’s hand, you look up at his face, who’s also looking at you and the same thing with Yaku,

“HAH! Look at who’s Mr. Popular right now,” Kuroo stated, pointing at you with a smirk plastered on his face, “Ugh, you’re so annoying, and so what? It’s only a letter and not tons of them,”

And after that very statement of yours, you hold Yaku’s face in between your hand like a sandwich with a small smile on your face, “But honestly, Yaku can get more love letters than you, I mean look at him, isn’t he handsome?”

Yaku blushed at that, slowly gripping your wrist and pushing your hands away from his face, “Hey, don’t do that, it hurts,” “Oops, sorry Mr. Handsome,” “Seriously, what’s with you and giving random nicknames?” “But that’s not random? I genuinely think you’re handsome, Mori,”

His blush deepened as he lightly hit your head, “J-just shut up,” “Ow! Fine fine, yeesh,”

Kuroo just stays quiet, staring at you two acting...oddly lovely with each other from his seat. He wanted to punch Yaku so bad but he can’t, he knows he can’t. But it doesn’t matter, cause you like him right? He’s sure of that, it’s just like a frenemies to lover trope.

He coughed, taking back both of your attention, “But I don't really see him receiving any, didn’t he? Then, I guess I’ll just keep being Mr. Popular, or even Mr. Handsome,” Yaku cringed while you snorted,

“You? Who in the world would even think that? You’re ugly, ugly baby, maybe that girl’s delusional or something,” “As if you’re anywhere pretty, and who’s even getting a love letter right now? I bet you’re jealous that you got none,”

You sighed, resting your head onto the palm of your hand, “Sadly, I guess no one noticed my beauty, “ Kuroo chuckled, “But serious talk here,”

That caught both Kuroo and Yaku attention as you continue, eyes looking down on your finger hitting the desk, “I don’t really mind getting a love letter from someone, whether it’s a prank or whatever, I think it’s neat,”

You look up at both of them, a small smile decorating your face, “ It makes me feel special,”

Kuroo could feel his heart beating faster, cheeks burning up at nothing but those simple words. It’s funny how the love letter in his hand doesn’t give him any reactions at all, but your mere words does,

“Stop saying it in that tone, you’re making me feel bad,” “Pfft, I don’t need your pity,” “Oh really~? Maybe I’ll write a letter for you to make you feel better then,” “Ugh, no thanks, Mount Fuji hair,” “Yeah, I- OI! SERIOUSLY, STOP WITH THE NICKNAME,”

You and Kuroo kept on arguing with each other, spitting profanities and so on. Yaku can just sigh, shaking his head and watching you two with a small smile.

“I’m going home now!”

Grabbing his bag, Yaku waved his hand as he walked towards the gym door, “Okay, stay safe!” Kai said, waving back at him, Kuroo joined his side, “I hope you don’t get chased again by those dogs,” “SHUT UP MOUNT FUJI HAIR!”

And with one last glare at the ravenette, Yaku stormed out from the gym after accidentally being reminded by that horrible and embarrassing memory,

“Mount Fuji hair?” Kai looked at Kuroo with a confused look, “Ah, It’s a new nickname [y/n] gave me, it’s stupid to be honestly,”

Kuroo explained, scratching the back of his head as he followed Kai to grab a broom and clean the gym.

Behind them are the 2nd years helping to clean the gym. Kenma sitting on the floor while rejecting Yamamoto’s request to put down the net with him and Fukunaga’s just watching them from a distance, sweeping the floor while snickering to himself,

“Kuroo, I hope you’re planning on confessing to [y/n], because you’re delaying a lot of time,” Kuroo pursed his lips, sweeping the floor a few meters away from Kai, “Nah, I think after a few more days then I can confess to them,”

And from that, Kai stopped sweeping as it caught Kuroo’s attention. Kuroo looks at him, his eyes show nothing but urgency. And somehow pity,

“I’m serious right now, Kuroo. You’ve what? Said that 3 times already and you still haven’t done anything. And…”

He stopped, sighing quietly before continuing, “...If you don’t take actions right this instant, [y/n]’s gonna be sweeped away by someone else,” Kuroo’s eyes went wide at that, “You...you don’t mean,”

“[y/n]’s going to be confessed by someone else today, at this time. I’ve heard it from a friend of mine,”

The broom in his hand falls down, echoing through the now empty gym and catching the attention of the 2nd years, looking at Kuroo with confusion. The male isn’t doing any better, he’s visibly shaking but he can’t move or do anything.

But then, his instincts started kicking in as his legs made the first move. He slammed open the gym door and started running towards the place he would think you would be at. Kai watching him with pity lacing his expression, taking the broom from the ground,

“I’m so sorry, Kuroo,”

‘I’m going to confess to [y/n] today and give them a letter because you know that I can’t tell everything inside my mind when they’re in front of me, they’re too pretty and it makes me nervous y’know. Oh, and also, keep this a secret from Kuroo, okay?’

His mind is going everywhere, his thighs burning from the amount of running he did from the gym all the way to the hallway of the first class. Kuroo has no idea where he’s heading to whatsoever but at the same time, he knows where it is.

The world around him started spinning as a pain shot to his head but he paid it no mind as he huffed, beads of sweat falling from his face and covering his cheeks.

And suddenly he stopped.

Kuroo watches from a distance, chest rising up and down. He can’t feel anything right now, he can’t hear anything. But the pain is still visibly there when he watches Yaku handing you a letter.

Your eyes went wide as you bowed to Yaku and took the letter from him. He can’t hear what they’re talking about, but whatever it’s about really makes you happy huh? And before he could process anything after that, you two kissed.

It was just a few seconds but it felt like an eternity to Kuroo. The way your lips touch Yaku’s, and not his. God, he dreamed of feeling it against him but now, he doesn't even have the chance to taste it.

Now, he’s thinking back to what Kai had said. Why did he wait to confess to you? The answer is quite simple,

Because he’s afraid. He’s afraid of rejection, he’s afraid that it’ll ruin the relationship you have with him now, he’s afraid of showing his vulnerability to you. It’s a simple task but a hard execution, and now Kuroo can’t do it anymore. Not now, not then.

Yes, he regretted not doing it earlier but it’s even more painful that he has to watch both of his friends fall in love with each other without him noticing. Actually, no, he did notice it.

Kuroo did notice how Yaku look at you, it’s also the way Kuroo looks at you too. But he didn't mind it because he can’t face the reality. That you like Yaku better than him.

So, he had to live in a fantasy world where you fall in love with him instead. How funny. A part of him wanted to stop it, just stop the painful visual that he had to watch, maybe that’ll be an interesting twist to the story.

But he didn’t, because he’s still scared.

And before Kuroo even knew it, you two are gone now. Probably going on a quick date or something. He weakly leaned against the wall, slowly falling down to his knees as he covered his face with his hands.

A few sniffles came out from him as he choked on his tears, each droplet falling down to the ground and soaking his sweaty hands. And now, he knows why Yaku asked to go home early today,

Kuroo hiccupped, a small smile appearing on his face as he laughed quietly to himself, “It’s okay, they’re a cute couple anyway. You’re strong, and you can find...better,”

It’s always been you, Kuroo and Yaku. And now, it’s only Kuroo left.

[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Two

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2921

Warnings: bad language words, blink and you’ll miss the angst, just some fluff

A/N: divider credit- @firefly-graphics

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission

You awoke with a start, feeling as if you were late for work or something important and forgot to set your alarm. Your heart beat an erratic tattoo against your ribcage. Scrambling for your cell phone, you blindly reached across the side table near your bed in a panic. Unplugging the phone, you brought the device an ungodly closeness to your face. It was only 6:17. On Saturday.

Your pulse throbbed behind your eyeballs, and a strange stickiness coated the inside of your mouth. Did you drink that much last night?

How could you not? Timmons was a fair boss, and you enjoyed your job, but that dude loved the sound of his own voice.

The quarterly business dinners were mandatory for all employees, even for the P.A.s. Typically, they weren’t so bad, but last night, Timmons felt the need to toot his own horn for landing a massive contract with Stark Industries slash The Avengers. He went on and on about how great it was for the firm.

He was like a giant kid in a candy store with his ramblings. ‘We will be promoting the face of The Avengers and everything that goes with it,�� he spouted off like the firm was god’s gift to public relations.

You groaned at the reminder of last night’s presentation. The contract wasn’t even in effect yet, and you were sick of the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Timmons could be a real buzz kill.

Rolling to your back, you brought your phone up to tap the screen to read the emails you received overnight. On display was a text from 11:04 by someone named James. It read: “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

Your mind went back to last night again, trying to recall who this James was. He must be significant if you plugged his contact information into your phone already. Had you met someone last night?

Drawing a blank, you clicked on the text bubble to pull up the thread. Briefly scanning through the numerous texts, everything came rushing back. In an attempt to text your sister, Robyn, you mistakenly texted this mysterious, James.

You felt like an utter buffoon when you learned he wasn’t Robyn. You always did have a way with the cute boys. Probably why you were single. You groaned out loud as you read on.

You im safely inside my apartment. Pretty sure no one followed me home

James Did you triple check the lock on the front door?

You yes dad yeesh

James There are a lot of bad people out there. Just want to make sure you’re safe.

You sounds like you watch the news too much but its sweet of u to care

James I know from experience.

You r u the bad guy or have u been the one mugged?

James Let’s just say I have friends that have dealt with the bad things of the world.

You right i almost forgot ur a military-trained assassin athlete mchottie

James Did you ever send your sister a text?

You shit thanks for reminding me i have such a crazy story to tell her

James Only good things, I hope.

You oh yeah all the good things an enigmatic yet handsome stranger cares more about my safety than any of my ex-boyfriends ever did.

James My ma raised me right.

You id say

James_ I hate to cut this short, but I think you need your rest. Especially if you’re meeting your sister tomorrow._

You i dont want to agree but ur probably right

You whats ur name btw?

James My name? Why? Do you plan to continue texting me after tonight?

You duh ur fun to talk to

James Oh.

You or not its cool if u dont want to

James It’s James.

You nice to meet u james im (y/n)

James Nice to meet you as well.

You my sister just texted me back and were still meeting at 9 i should go 

You goodnite james

James Goodnight, (Y/N).

Oh. My. God. Had you seriously drunk-flirted with a stranger and offered to keep texting him? You had no shame with a few drinks in you.

You brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose and sighed loudly.

What did you know of this James? He had a New York area phone number. Check. He could have been a real dick about your mistake but wasn’t. Understanding. Check. He worried about you getting home safely in your inebriated state. Caring. Check. Not too forthcoming with the nine to five. Secretive. Check. His mouth looked so soft and plush, and his eyes were made to drown in. Gorgeous. Check.

A heat simmered beneath your skin as you recounted the shortlist you’d made. Were you lusting over someone you’d exchanged less than forty texts with? Had you somehow woken back up in high school?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you stared at the screen displaying the message thread. Were you really considering this? You nodded your head to answer your own question. Where was the harm in a little shameless flirting? If worse came to worst, you could always block him.

With your mind made up, you began typing into your phone, constructing an apology.

You Good morning! First off, I want to apologize for the way I behaved over text last night.

You Though, I do like to imbibe in the occasional drink or two, I am, by no means, a lush.

You Please take everything I said with a grain of salt. Apparently, I get loose-lipped and cheeky with free wine. 😐

You Again, I’m sorry and understand if you wanted to cease our correspondence for my behavior.

You blew out a breath and tossed your phone aside. It was up to fate now and a stranger named James.

You laid in your bed for several minutes staring at the ceiling, contemplating between whether to send a ‘haha just kidding’ text and what the weather would be like, so you could forego shaving your legs in the shower today.

Your phone chimed during the pondering of hair removal, indicating a new text. You knew it was James proclaiming you a freak and to forget his number, but secretly, you hoped it was Robyn canceling today.

Seizing the phone from your mattress top, your heart’s beat increased with each second you went without looking at the screen. Finding the courage, you flipped the device over to read the message.

James Quite the formal apology, Ms. Professor.

You smiled at the text. It didn’t tell you to pound sand or eat shit. No, it was teasing and in jest. You sighed in relief.

You Cease our correspondence too much?

James No, no it was perfect if this was 1863, and you were breaking up with me via telegraph.

You Stop!

James Exactly! ‘Never speak to me again!’ Stop. ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ Stop.

A belly laugh disrupted the tranquil air of your bedroom. You quickly thumbed out a reply once you caught your breath.

You You’re incorrigible.

James I’m glad to see you are using proper capitalization and punctuation this morning.

You Ha!

You When you are buzzed and/or tipsy, capitals and periods be damned. Like you’re so perfect when you’re drunk.

James We all have our flaws.

Was he implying he was a sloppy texter when drunk, too? You shrugged it off as him being cryptic again.

You What are you doing up so early on a Saturday? I didn’t wake you, did I?

You were suddenly stricken with guilt. You should have waited for a more reasonable hour to send out rapid-fire apology texts. Not at 6:36 in the morning. You didn’t want last night’s behavior hanging over you, though. Better to clear the air now than later. You could always ask for forgiveness again if you had disturbed his sleep.

James I had just gotten back from my run when I saw your texts. I have training this morning.

You Oh, right. For your hush-hush, super top secret mission/quidditch game.

You You ever gonna tell me what you really do?

James_ Maybe. Someday._

How far away was someday? Was he planning to text you until you both died or until he got bored? How did texting relationships even work?

You Or is it one of those situations where if you told me you’d have to kill me?

James 😈

You There you go again--being all mysterious.

James Keep ‘em guessing and coming back for more.

You Has that strategy worked well for you in the past?

James Got you to text me again this morning, didn’t it?

You scoffed at what he had suggested. He was correct, but your stubborn streak would deny everything.

You The only reason I texted you this morning was to apologize for acting like a drunken fool last night.

And to squash the curiosity burning in your veins. But he didn’t need to know that.

James Oh.

The reply caused you to furrow your brow and your stomach to drop. You regretted not adding more levity to your last text. Of course, it wasn’t the only reason you were drawn to him.

You I appreciate that the selfie you sent wasn’t a dick pic. And you genuinely seemed to care about me getting home safely. Thank you.

You And maybe- a teeny, tiny bit- is honestly interested in getting to know you better.

You waited on pins and needles for his text, watching the pulsing ellipsis on your screen. Was he just humoring you?

James Hook. Line. Sinker.

Reading his response generated a flush from your jaw to your hairline. You growled in embarrassment. You fell for the oldest trick in the book. He baited you for a compassionate answer, and you delivered beautifully. Hook, line, and sinker, indeed.

You You’re an ass. I take everything back.

James Don’t be mad. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go, but you played into my trap wonderfully.

James If it makes you feel any better, all kidding aside, I want to get to know you better too.

James I fell asleep with a smile on my face last night and woke up with one this morning.

James Because of you, (Y/N).

A flutter broke apart in your chest. You hadn’t time-traveled back to high school; no, this was junior high territory.

You You’re lucky you’re so damn charming, James.

James Doll, you have no idea.

The subway ride into Manhattan usually gave you the chance to get a little reading in since it took nearly fifty minutes from Queens. Not today, though. You spent the entirety of the train ride texting back and forth with James. It was mundane stuff, but you were getting a grasp of who James was as a person.

You Favorite color?

James Black. You?

You Blue.

You Favorite ice cream flavor?

James Chocolate. Yours?

You Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia.

James I didn’t realize we were getting specific.

You We weren’t, but that’s my favorite.

You Favorite movie?

James I like the classics- The Wizard of Oz, It’s A Wonderful Life, Frankenstein.

You I have too many to list, so don’t ask.

You Okay. Lightning round because I’m almost to my stop.

James Where are you going again?

You paused your reply for a brief second, wondering if you should divulge your destination. You’d known James less than twenty-four hours; although, it felt like weeks after this morning. Where was the harm in telling him where you were meeting your sister? There were nearly nine million people in this city. There was no way you’d ever bump into each other.

You A bakery in the Upper East Side called Two Little Red Hens. Ever been?

James Don’t think I have.

You Well, since you like chocolate, they have a fantastic cake called Brooklyn Blackout. Super rich but delicious.

James Sounds right up my alley.

You Cats or dogs?

James I’m gone too much, so cats.

The answer piqued your interest. Maybe he was an athlete. Wouldn’t it be practice and not training, though? Or he’s FBI or CIA.

You Socks on or off for sleeping?

James Off.

You Silver or gold?

James Silver.

You Morning, noon, or night?

James Night.

You How do you take your coffee?

James Room for sugar and creamer.

You Boxers or briefs?

James Boxer briefs.

You laughed out loud, looking around the subway car to see if anyone was paying attention to you. Per usual, they weren’t.

You Touché.

As soon as the train stopped, you gathered your purse close to your body and made for the exit. You followed the crowd of fellow passengers through the turnstile and ascended the stairs onto street level.

The morning sunlight caressed your skin like a warm blanket. The humidity wasn’t too bad, yet, but the threat of afternoon thunderstorms still hung in the air.

Even with the reasonably early hour, the sidewalk was stuffed with people, carrying to-go coffee cups or shopping bags. You fought for your little spot of real estate on the grimy concrete.

Stopping at a red traffic light, waiting to cross, you typed out another question for James.

You Pineapple on pizza--yay or nay?

The light changed as you finished, and the throng of pedestrians around you guided you across the street. You spotted Robyn outside the bakery as your phone dinged with a new text alert.

“Wow, I’m surprised you made it on time,” Robyn said as you hugged hello.

You looked at the clock on your phone. 8:58. “You and me both, sister.” Glancing back at your phone’s screen, you giggled.

James What kind of monster puts pineapple on their pizza??

“What’s so funny?” Robyn asked as you accompanied her through the bakery’s door.

With a grin on your face, you punched out a quick reply:

You Well, it was nice knowing you, James. It was a swell friendship while it lasted--a whole 11 ½ hours.

Robyn elbowed you softly in the ribs with a look on her face, seeking an explanation.

“Ow,” you grunted. “What?”

“You tell me. I half expected a zombie to walk through the doors today after your text last night. Not Suzie Sunshine.”

You both edged closer to the counter as the line in front of you dwindled.

James Say it ain’t so, doll! Pineapple on pizza? Really??

You let out a low chortle as you skimmed the text. You glimpsed up at Robyn as you shuffled forward in line again. “Believe me, I’m pretty hungover,” you replied, shoving your phone in your back pocket. “It’s a funny story. I’ll tell you everything when we sit.”

Robyn stared at you warily, still trying to figure out what had come over you. “Okay,” she conceded, stepping to the register to order.

With each of you supplied with an iced coffee and a peach ginger scone, you found an empty table by a window along 2nd Avenue and proceeded to tell Robyn about James.

When you stopped to catch your breath, remembering the whirlwind the last twelve hours had been, you peered at your sister for her reaction.

She stared at you like you’d grown a second head. She shook her head in disbelief. “(Y/N), what where you thinking?”

Your brow pinched in confusion. Was she actually scolding you? You crossed your arms over your chest. “I was thinking about how my big sister is always telling me to meet new people and how it’s time I thought about settling down.”

“Not like this it’s not,” she hissed. “This is how your body parts end up in someone’s freezer!”

You choked on the piece of scone you shoved in your mouth before she started ridiculing you. After coughing to clear your airway and taking a sip of your iced coffee, you leered at Robyn. “Oh, my god! Dramatic much? Have you been binge-watching Dateline again? Jesus Christ, Robyn, he’s harmless,” you countered.

“You think you’ll be so careful, but you’ll let one little detail slip, and he’ll find you,” Robyn said before taking a pull from her coffee.

“You mean, like, how I was meeting you at Two Little Red Hens at nine o’clock?”

Robyn’s mouth popped open in an O. “What the hell, (Y/N)?” she stage-whispered. “Are you trying to get yourself kidnapped and sold into sex trafficking?”

“Please,” you drew out in one long syllable. “He doesn’t know what I look like. How would he snatch me?”

“He could look you up on Facebook.”

“Without a last name?” You shook your head, no.

“What about a reverse search on your number?” Robyn asked, pushing the plate holding her scone away. “That’s a thing.”

“Perhaps, but it seems like a lot of effort for a mistake I made. It wasn’t like he was seeking me or anyone else out.”

Robyn huffed out a breath and folded her arms in exasperation. Always the protective big sister. You could tell you were breaking her down, though.

“C’ mon, Robbie. It’s all in innocent fun. I’m not saying I’m hoping he’ll turn out to be Mr. Right, but the banter is fun,” you remarked. “James is charming and witty and nice to talk to.”

Robyn shook her head once more, frowning. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

You reached across the table for her hand and squeezed gently. “Me too.” You smiled slyly, remembering last night’s dinner and Timmons gushing about The Avengers. “If not, I know how to get ahold of a couple of centenarians who know chivalry isn’t dead.”

Chapter One | Chapter Three

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[cheyningdiamond]

Go To Fucking Sleep!

Hank groaned softly and rubbed his very tired eyes. It was 1 AM and he was STILL trying to find Tricky, who was hiding from him. It had been about 3 hours, and Hank was getting cranky.

"Trickyyyy!! T! Goddamn it, I'm not doing this tonight!" He groaned. He went into the living room area of the facility and looked around. He walked towards the TV, knowing the large space between it and the wall. He checked behind there, but no sign of that clown was found.

He went towards the couch and sighed with exhaustion. Giving up, he sat down on it, on top of a large, thick blanket.

"EEEK-!!" A loud squeal was heard, making Hank jump up and fall on the floor.

Immediately, Hank yanked the blanket off the couch, and sure enough, Tricky was there, curled up with a delighted grin on his face.

"HANK FOUND ME FINALLY!!"

"There you are, you little shit..." Hank growled.

"AWW HANK MEAN... CLOWN JUST WANTED TO PLAY!"

"Tricky. It is 1 in the morning. And I haven't exactly slept in a good few days." He grabbed the clown and threw him over his shoulder. "We're heading to bed."

The clown reluctantly squirmed. "NOOOOOO!! CLOWN WANNA PLAY MOOOOREE!! RELEASE MEEE!!"

"Tricky, no. We're lea-vING!" He yelped once Tricky lightly dug his claws into Hank's shoulder/neck. A common weakness for Wimbleton.

This caused him to loosen his grip and the clown managed to push him off and run. "TAG!! YOU'RE IT!" He ran off, laughing childishly.

"Tricky, you asshole!" Hank rushed after him. He started to gain on the zombie fairly well, until he started teleporting a few feet ahead each time.

"Tricky, when I get my hands on you-!" Hank barked.

"WHEN?? MORE LIKE 'IF', SLOWPOKE! HEHEHEHEEEE!!"

Tricky looked back when he spoke, which had been his demise.

He ran face first into a wall and stumbled back. To which Hank grabbed him and threw him on the floor, before tackling him.

He wiggled and whined, but was still grinning and giggling.

"NO FAAIIRR! NO FAIR!"

"Oh, it's fair..." He grabbed his wrists and stared him in the eyes with serious intent. "Bedtime. Now."

"WAAIIITT!!"

"What?"

"HIDE 'N SEEK!"

"Did we not just play that."

"YEYEYE. BUT I FIND HANK!!"

"Only place you'll be finding me is on that bed asleep."

"NOOOO PLAY!! THEN CLOWN WILL SLEEP!"

"...Promise?"

Tricky nodded, making his fluffy red hair go up and down. "YEYEYEYE PROMISE!"

"...Fine." Hank stood up, releasing the clown's wrists. "Go... I don't know, stand in a corner 'n count to 30 or something."

"OKIE!" Tricky stood in the corner of the hallway they were in and began to count.

Hank just stood right there, arms crossed, and Tricky immediately noticed.

"HAAAAANK, TRRYYYYY!! IF HANK DOESN'T TRY, CLOWN WILL KEEP HANK UP!"

Rolling his eyes, he uncrossed his arms and walked off. He went into one of the supply closets. He then felt like this was a bad spot, as if he was actually beginning to put thought into it. He left and after awhile, he got into one of the locker rooms of the facility they called home.

Having a lot of lockers, and lockers big enough to fit, he got himself in one and closed it.

"28...29...30! READY OR NOT, CLOWN IS HERE!" Tricky immediately checked the living room he was hiding in, checking the blanket that was still on the ground. He then checked behind the couch, then behind the TV.

"HM... HAAANK!?" He called out, thinking that would work.

Meanwhile, the mercenary was fast asleep in the locker, still standing but leaned back.

A few hours passed, and it was now 5 AM. Hank woke up to what sounded like loud, obnoxious crying.

He opened the door slightly and saw Tricky on his knees out in the hallway. Poor man had given up. "CLOWN CAN'T FIND HAAAAANK...!! CLOWN MISSES HAAAANK...!!!" He cried.

A small smirk appeared on Hank's face, though he did feel a little bad.

He opened the locker door and stepped out, getting closer behind Tricky. He then put his hands under Tricky's arms and swiftly lifted him up, adjusting so he carried him more in a bridal fashion.

"HUH- *GASP* HAAANK!!" Tricky wrapped his arms around him. "CLOWN THOUGHT HE LOST YOU!!"

Hank chuckled. "I guess I'm just that good... Why were you crying?"

"CLOWN MISSED YOU..."

"Aww..." He smooched the top of his head. "Well, I'm here now, so relax..."

Tricky nodded slowly, before letting out a soft yawn. "CLOWN... SLEEPYYY..."

"Oh shit, that's right. What time is it?" He looked up at the clock and saw the time. "Yeesh, it's late... Alright, c'mon. No more games."

"OKAAYY..." Fatigued, Tricky laid his head into Hank's chest, closing his eyes.

Hank smiled and yawned as well, carrying Tricky off to bed. He set him down and put the blanket on him, before getting in beside him and putting the blanket over himself as well. Tricky scooted closer and held onto the tall, tough merc.

Soon after, they had finally fallen asleep. And Hank finally caught a break that morning.

[redrobbingabank]

Planning

This is a sort of add on to this post from a few days ago. You don’t need to read it to understand, but if you want to it’s there.

Techno was in prison. Techno was in prison. With Dream. Ranboo had felt scattered ever since he found out. He probably didn’t need to worry. Techno was strong. If anyone could handle being so close to Dream, it would be him. Still, Ranboo thought as he broke another piece of stone, it didn’t stop the constant stream of what if’s in his mind.

He had taken to mining even more since Phil told him a few days ago. The repetitive pattern of it was about all he could make himself focus on. Piles of resources were rapidly filling up his chests. He was giving all the stone to Tubbo for his outpost by Las Nevadas.

Las Nevadas. Quackity. They were the ones who did this to Techno. Ranboo had seen him on the hill at Techno’s birthday party. He’d hoped for the best, but it was pointless. Quackity had changed. He couldn’t be trusted anymore.

Unable to carry any more, Ranboo trudged back up the stairs to his house. He dumped everything in the nearest empty chest and went outside to check on Steve. He’d been doing that a lot lately.

Outside his door, Ranboo stopped short. Phil was outside, talking to a kid in a purple hoodie with violet eyes.

“Oh! Ranboo!” Phil waved him over. He wasn’t smiling, but his frown had lessened slightly. “This is Purpled.”

Wait, Purpled? Ranboo didn’t know much about the kid, other than that he was a skilled mercenary and that Tubbo had mentioned seeing him around Las Nevadas with Quackity’s slimy assistant.

Ranboo narrowed his eyes.”Uh-huh.”

“He promised to help us break Techno out of prison.” 

“Did he now?” Ranboo looked closer at Purpled. If  he didn’t know he was a mercenary, the kid would have looked unremarkable. With that knowledge, though, he saw the way Purpled stood, feet positioned like he was ready to fight at any moment. He had a bored look in his eyes, flicking around as they took in the terrain and Ranboo.

Phil looked at him in confusion. “Is something wrong?”

“He works with Las Nevadas, Phil.” The way Phil’s eyes widened told Ranboo he didn’t know. “So I guess he was keeping that little fact secret.”

Purpled glared at him. “I was working with them. Not fully willingly, I might add, but I’m not anymore.”

“Yeah? What happened?” Ranboo asked. 

“Quackity crossed the line.”

“And the line was Techno?”

“Yeah.” Purpled crossed his arms. “Really, it should have been when he blew up my home, but he got in my head.”

Ranboo blinked. “He blew up your UFO?”

“Yeah,” Purpled said. His mouth turned downwards. “The son of a bitch called me to get the payment for the Eggpire job, then he blew it up right in front of me. Then, he started spewing shit about how it was my legacy and people would never remember me now that it was gone.”

Ranboo remembered another house, in L’Manburg. It had still had some of his pets in it when Dream and Techno reduced it to a smoking crater. Everyone would remember that place. Ranboo’s insides twisted. “Sometimes remembering isn’t a good thing.”

“That was everything I had,” Purpled said angrily. “He took away my ability to be remembered. I don’t want to disappear, even if that looks good to you.”

“Disappearing doesn’t look good to me,” Ranboo said indignantly. “I was just saying that some things are better left behind.”

“Like me?” Purpled said.

“No!” 

“Well, that’s what it sounded like.” A sword appeared in Purpled’s hand. Ranboo struggled to catch up. How had it gone this way? But he called his axe forth.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Phil stepped between them, hands held up. “Stop it! Techno’s in the prison, we all want him out. Ranboo, Purpled’s vendetta will keep him on our side. Purpled, Ranboo’s dealt with people obsessed with legacy before. Get along, at least until we get Techno out.”

Ranboo wasn’t even entirely sure how they’d come to be fighting. He watched Purpled warily until the other boy lowered his sword. “Fine.”

Ranboo let his axe disappear. “Alright.”

“Good.” Phil dropped his hands. “Now. I’ll send for Niki. When she gets here, we make a plan. Ranboo, can you go get some armor set up for us?”

Ranboo nodded and turned back to his house. The snow came halfway up his shins as he walked. After a few moments, footsteps behind him became noticeable.

He twisted around to see Purpled following him. “What?” 

“I just wanted to tell you that you don’t need to make me any armor,” Purpled said. “I’ve got my own.”

“Yeah? Let me see it.”

“Why?”

“Because I can probably make it better.”

Purpled grumbled, but he summoned his chestplate and passed it to Ranboo. They were walking side by side now as Ranboo inspected it. It was netherite, but there were small dents all over it from places where arrows had glanced off. The enchantments were dulling. “I can definitely do better. Your Projectile Protection is crap, by the way.”

Purpled huffed. “It’s fine.”

Ranboo held it next to his gauntlet, where it contrasted heavily with the enchantments shining vibrantly on his. “You were saying?”

“How did you get it that high powered?” Purpled asked, grudgingly impressed.

“Effort.” Inside his house, Ranboo tossed the chestplate on the anvil and rooted through his chests for the enchanted books he needed. 

Purpled leaned on the wall, watching as he worked. “Could you show me how?”

What, so you can show your Las Nevadas friends? Ranboo almost asked, but thought better of it. “Sure,” he said. “After we get Techno out.” A crow flew past the window, likely carrying Phil’s message for Niki.

“Why is Phil calling Niki?” Purpled asked, eyes tracking the crow in the sky. “I’d think she hated Techno after L’Manberg.”

“Well, she doesn’t.” Ranboo finished maxing out the enchantments on Purpled’s armor. “And stop sticking your nose into people’s relationships.”

“Yeesh, sorry.” Purpled took his chestplate back. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Ranboo didn’t look up from searching his chest for netherite ingots. “Now give me the rest of it, then go train with Phil or something.”

Purpled scowled, but put the rest of his armor within reach of Ranboo and left, letting the door swing shut behind him. 

Ranboo bent back over the anvil with a sigh. As much as he hoped Purpled had good intentions, Quackity had moved him once before. There was no telling if he’d be able to do it again.

[obwjam]

Stargazing (giant!poe x tiny!reader fluff)

it’s bad batch week yall!!!!! my god i am so excited for tomorrow. in honor of getting all new, good star wars content in the year of the lord 2021, i’m going to be posting new writing every day this week! starting with this little bit of giant!poe bf x tiny!reader fluff i whipped up this afternoon. it’s been too long since we’ve talked about this man so let’s go

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

“What do you see, Poe?”

Poe turned his head. He could barely see your small form in the dark, but the glow of the moonlight prevented you from being invisible. It was only your second date, but the first date was more like a mission-turned-romantic-evening when you and Poe had to spend hours drifting aimlessly through space when his ship got damaged in enemy territory. Who knew your first kiss would come with only an hour of life support left? That was weeks ago, though, and Leia decided you both deserved a night off. Not to mention that Poe wouldn’t stop making mushy comments to you every chance he got and everyone begged for them to get a room.

A quiet night of snacks and stargazing was definitely in order.

“Hm?” Poe was barely paying attention. For once, he was absorbed in the beauty of the moment. Totally silent.

“Every day. What do you see? What does it all look like?”

Poe then realized you were asking about… well, about people. Giants. Ugh. He really hated when you said that.

“Well… it just looks like the world,” he said. He didn’t know how else to describe it. How do you describe the world to someone? It was like trying to describe colors to someone who couldn’t see them.

“What does it all look like to you?”

Poe wasn’t sure if you’d respond to that, but he glanced over and saw you shrug.

“It just looks like the world,” you said softly, but somehow the gentle breeze carried your words up to Poe’s ears. He could detect a small smile in that voice.

Poe laughed to himself. He supposed you both had trouble trying to describe the world to each other. Maybe it was because you lived in the same world.

“You seem to be taller than normal,” you said. “Maybe everything looked smaller to you, I dunno.”

“Hah, well, maybe, but not that much. There are people far taller than me.”

You shuddered. “That doesn’t seem possible.”

Poe snickered. “Nothing looks small to me.” He turned to you, and you were, as he anticipated, looking back at him. “Nothing at all.”

You tried to smile, but found you couldn’t. “You don’t have to be nice. It’s okay.”

“It isn’t a question of nice or mean,” Poe said, confused, turning to his side and propping up on his elbow.

“Well… you don’t have to lie, I guess is what I mean. You don’t have to try and spare my feelings.” You sniffed. “I know what I look like to you.”

Poe shook his head. Where was this coming from? “No. No, you don’t. ‘Cause when I look at you, I don’t see tiny. I don’t see small. I just see you.”

You turned to Poe in surprise. “You… really mean that?”

Poe nodded as best he could. “Just ‘cause I can carry you around in my pocket doesn’t mean I don’t see you as a person, (Y/n). Just like you can see me for what I am without thinking giant.”

You paused for a bit too long.

“U-unless you do,” Poe stumbled. “In which case, uh, well, I guess--”

Your laugh cut him off. “I just see you, Poe.” She fiddled with her hands before continuing. “It took me a while, though. To get comfortable with… this. Whatever this is. After that night we had.”

“I can hardly imagine.”

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s, uh. Well. If I want you guys to stop looking at me as tiny, then I have to stop looking at you as gigantic, right? It goes both ways.”

Poe hummed. If he was in your situation, he didn’t know that he would ever reach that same conclusion.

“That’s real mature of you.”

You shrugged. “It’s necessary, really. If you actually want me around, I… I want to be comfortable with it. I’m sick of being scared all the time.”

“Well, it’s a natural reaction, isn’t it? There’s nothing wrong with feeling scared.”

“There’s something wrong if it’s the only thing you’ve ever felt in your life.” You stopped to take a breath, and Poe took the moment to cut in. 

“Do you like hanging around with us?”

You took longer to respond than Poe was expecting, which made his heart drop a bit.

“Yeah,” you said finally. “I do. I really do. The other day… Finn called us friends. It kind of shocked me, I guess. Made this feel real.”

“Did you think we were pretending to be your friends or something? Do you think I was pretending to like you? Because, I’m not pretending, everyone can attest to that,” Poe stammered, concerned.

“No,” you laughed, smiling at Poe so fiercely defending his feelings for you. “No, not at all. You wouldn’t have waited this long if you were trying to trick me. I don’t… really know what it felt like. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I’ve never been around giants like this, much less be integrated into the group. I just didn’t… well, I didn’t want to think of us as friends -- more than friends -- if you didn’t think the same way. To be honest, I… I didn’t actually think you’d see me as a real person. I just figured you’d, I dunno. See me as a very intelligent house pet.”

Poe knew how hard it was for you to say those words. He also knew how serious it was for you to admit this to him. This was the first time he was hearing about your internal struggle like this, and it was rocking him to his core.

“(Y/n),” he said, surprising himself with how shaky his voice was. “I don’t… I’ve never seen you that way. As a… as a pet,” he managed to say. “Y’know, this was all new for us, too. We were trying to figure out how to make you comfortable and how to deal with everything. I know it’s different for me, but I was just as unsure as you were. I didn’t want you running out on us or hating us without giving us a chance. Without…” Poe stopped.

“Without what?”

Poe sniffed a laugh. Nothing could get past you.

“I knew when I met you that I liked you, babe. Not just because you’re tiny, which makes you objectively adorable.” Poe paused, and he swore he could see you blushing. “But ‘cause you’re funny. You’re intelligent. You’re strong as hell. And I like spending time with you.”

“...I thought you did that because you had to,” you whispered.

“Well, maybe, at first. But it didn’t take long to realize that there was something special about you, and not for the obvious reasons.”

You fiddled with your fingers, trying hard not to burst into tears. “The obvious reasons?”

“You kidding? You are easily the most badass member of the resistance. Well, behind Leia, I guess. And me. And Rey is pretty cool too--”

“Okay, okay, yeesh, I get it,” you giggled. “Well, you’re pretty special too, Poe Dameron. Never in my life would I have guessed that someone like you… cool, handsome, talented--”

“Go on,” Poe smiled. You groaned.

“Self-absorbed,” you teased. “Even if we were the same height… well, I’d never think I’d have a chance.”

Suddenly, Poe stretched his hand out and gently wrapped his fingers around you, allowing you to somewhat take a seat as he lifted you up, flipped on his back and placed you on his chest. You gasped. This was certainly the most intimate you had ever gotten.

“This okay?” he asked quietly. You let out a small mhmm. “Good. I think we can see the stars better this way.” He paused for a moment. “And I can see you a lot better, too.”

You rolled your eyes. “You are so cheesy.”

“But that’s why you love me, right?”

You sniffed a laugh, and your smile shone through your voice. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Poe sighed happily, gently placing his hand over you. This thing… whatever this thing was… he knew it was going to work.

[daddyjackfrost]

i'm not sure if i have anyy suggestions that you'll want to write, but i'll send them in as they come to mind

so excited for your writing ^^ no pressure though, best of luck with your studies!!

y/n is studying (something difficult, maybe pre-med or med school?) and is feeling a little drained and self-doubtful. she gets up from her space to take a second and is reminded of a time she spent with <whichever haikyuu boy you'd like to write about>. they hadn't gotten to spend much time together as a result of their busy schedule, so the memory of this weekend is especially special to her. start flashback of fluff they had met for dinner, spent time together, cuddled and slept (not 18+) together. they both woke up early but opted to stay in bed together, content in eachother's company, making small talk, laughing softly, fluffy stuff. y/n had brought up her struggles to <haikyuu boy of choice> and he'd been there for her to confide in. she knows its her dream, but casually wonders if she isnt cut out for it. he actively listens, offering comforting touches, until she's finished and then helps her talk it out until she's back up in confidence. more fluffy morning end lashback of fluff y/n feels better having remembered <hq boy>'s pep talk and resumes her efforts.

yeesh, idk how long/short/detailed/vague suggestions are supposed to be, so sorry! 😅 i'll try to be more vague, if you'd like, in the future

hi!! omg u r SO cute i’m in love. anyways, i love your suggestion! it’s amazing. and don’t worry, the more detail the better!

for this request, i’ve chosen Daichi. because i’m a daichi whore i believe in daichi supremacy

Warnings: none :) fluff, daichi x f!reader

alright, anyways, enjoy!

You stared at the piles of paper on your bed. You couldn’t even begin to recall what the different colours of the paper meant. You were just glad you had written it down on your phone.

“This is ridiculous,” you whispered to yourself.

Your back was aching, your muscles were sore, and your eyes burned from the constant strain. You had a final coming up and it was killing you in more ways then one.

“Is this even worth it? I mean, really, what are the chances of me getting into med school?”

You groaned and fell back on your pillow. You dragged your hands down your face. You had been spiraling down a tunnel of self-doubt and it was affecting you. You had begun talking to yourself even more than usual, especially since you cut contact from everyone for a couple of days.

Your phone chimed beside you and you turned your head to face it. You had promised yourself to turn it off, except you forgot.

Well, you didn’t forget, you just didn’t want too.

You picked it up and your eyes fell on the message that your boyfriend left you.

From: acab but not him🙄❣️

‘good evening, beautiful. make sure to eat something, yeah? and get some fresh air. you’ve got this babe, i believe in you❣️’

You smiled at the message. Unknowingly, a few small tears formed at the corners of your eyes. Daichi had a week long training camp that coincidentally aligned with your final. Now, Daichi was in Tokyo and you were cooped up in your room. 

Daichi had made it his job to send you texts almost every hour to remind you he loved you and to eat. You didn’t think you could love him even more.

Due to his own busy schedule, Daichi and you hadn’t been able to spend too much time together before he left. But you knew that as soon as you had taken the final, you were going to spent three days in his arms.

You sent a quick text back, telling him you loved him and that you were going to get something to eat now.

You slowly slid out of bed, making your bed and your bones make noise out of agony. Your knees cracked and you looked down. “Just break,” you prayed.

When nothing happened, you huffed out an annoyed breath and made your way to your kitchen. You and Daichi had moved into an apartment two years ago, and you loved every part of it. Your home was your baby.

As you walked, your eyes fell upon the black leather jacket that laid jumbled up on the couch. Your thoughts immediately flashed to the weekend, the last time you had seen Daichi.

It was Friday night, which meant date night for you and the police officer, and it was perfect.

You parked your car outside of the Miyagi Police Station, waiting for Daichi.

You stood outside, enjoying the light breeze. Daichi had texted you to give him a couple minutes. Today was Friday, which meant date night for you and your lover.

You heard some ruckus and lifted your head, meeting Daichi’s warm gaze. He had a large grin etched onto his face and you felt your own lips pull into a smile.

Daichi walked up to you and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. “Hello, darling.”

You brushed away the few dark locks that fell on his forehead. “Hello, officer.”

Daichi’s eyes slightly narrows at the use of the word. He absolutely loved and hated when you called him officer. It did things to him.

“Come, let’s go. I’m starving.”

You nodded and pulled away from him, walking to the drivers seat. Daichi always insisted you drive when you picked him up because he wanted to ‘get his full of you’ because he was at work. You never truly understood it, but you liked his heated stare on you so you never said anything.

You and Daichi ended up going to your favourite restaurant. You went here a lot, and were now on first name basis with the manager and half of the employees.

You and Daichi both ordered your regulars and ate peacefully, with some small talk here and there. A hungry Daichi usually resulted in a quiet Daichi.

After dinner, you drove to the park by your house to get some fresh air and to work off some of the food you just ate.

Late night walks with Daichi were your favourite little activities you did with him. Daichi loved late night walks with you too. He loved watching the moon glow on your skin as you stared adoringly at the stars.

Daichi held your hand in his, gently swinging them. He wore black jeans and his favourite grey shirt, with his black worn out leather jacket you had gotten him a couple of years ago.

You kept your eyes on him. His skin glistened in the moonlight and you found him as beautiful as the stars that twinkled above him, if not more.

“What’re you thinkin’ bout, love?”

You turned your head, finding it completely unfair that someone so beautiful stood next to you.

“You,” you mumbled truthfully.

“Is that so?” Daichi’s voice came out teasingly.

You let go of his hand and skipped forward until you stood a couple of feet away from him. You pointed at him and he stopped, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face.

“You, Sawa, are the love of my life.”

Daichi’s eyes widened slightly and a flush of pink now rested on his face. Daichi cleared his throat but couldn’t help the grin that had replaced his smile.

“And you’re mine.”

You grinned at him and then continued to walk until you reached the hill that overlooked your neighborhood. You crouched down, and then sat down, pulling your knees to your chest.

Daichi soon followed, except he sat behind you, and spread his legs so you were sitting between them. He pulled you close to your chest, until your back rested completely against his chest.

You tilted your head back, resting it on Daichi’s shoulder. One of Daichi’s large, warm, hands laid on your stomach, rubbing softly. The other was playing with your hair.

This is it, you thought. I’ll never love anyone the way I love him.

You looked up at the stars. You had always had a fascination with the balls of of heat and energy. When you were a child, your dream was to become a star. You’re not quite sure when that dream led you on the path of medicine, but it did.

Daichi stared at you. It didn’t matter that you two had been together for almost six years, Daichi could never get over how beautiful you were.

The way your hair glistened in the moonlight, the way your eyes twinkled, as if you held the stars in them yourselves. Daichi stared at you the way you stared at the stars.

With complete and utter adoration.

Daichi’s eyes landed on your hands. He watched as they slight shook, and how your tried to make them stop.

He frowned. Your hands only shook when your were stressed.

As swiftly as he could, Daichi grabbed your shaking hands and held them together, complete engulfing them in his own.

“You’re shaking, love. What’s the matter?”

You froze. Caught.

Even though you should have been calm, happy even, since you sat under the stars with your lover, the final that loomed over your shoulder had your nervous system in shambles.

Daichi’s thumbs rubbed the backs of your hands as he waited for your response.

“I’m just nervous,” you mumbled. You hated speaking about up-coming tests or finals. You always had really bad anxiety when it came to any form of testing, and Daichi knew that.

He knew everything about you.

“What about?”

You sighed and extended your legs. Daichi had a way with words. Even when he didn’t speak much, his presence and silence alone spoke tenfold.

“Nothing, really,” you let out an awkward laugh. “You know I’m always a little bit nervous.”

Daichi wanted to press on the matter. He wanted you to speak to him, he wanted to be able to share your stress. But he also knew that you would talk to him when you were ready.

Daichi pressed a soft kiss on your neck. “Talk to me when you’re ready, love.”

You nodded. “I will.”

Daichi kissed the small space behind your earlobe. “Let’s go home, yeah?” You nodded, agreeing. Daichi stood up and then put out his hand for you. You grabbed it, and let him pull you up with ease.

You two began the journey home, reaching in a couple of minutes.

You and Daichi changed into your nightwear. You were wearing one of Daichi’s shirts, and he was just wearing grey sweatpants.

You couldn’t keep your eyes off his body, but managed to look away before he caught you.

Daichi slipped under the covers, and then lifted them. He patted his chest. “Come lay on me.”

You immediately obliged, jumping onto his chest, causing Daichi to let out a small grunt.

You let all your wait drop on Daichi’s body. Your head was in the crook of his neck, and your chest lay flat against his. You could feel his heartbeat against yours and it took you a moment to realize that both your hearts beat at the same time.

As one.

Daichi slid his left hand under your—his—shirt, rubbing your back. It was these moments he wanted to truly cherished. He knew you were stressed about the final that was coming up. He had put the date in his phone when you mentioned it.

Daichi realized that today had been the quietest days you two had had. But he didn’t mind. He loved everyday with you. The quiet, the loud, the hectic, and the crazy.

Daichi began to hum. He could feel the knots in your back, and he knew you should have a nice relaxing weekend before you began to study.

Before he knew it, Daichi heard your soft snores fill the air.

A wide smile broke out on his face. Daichi absolutely adored your sleeping face. All your worry lines disappeared and you looked the most at peace when you slept in his arms.

Daichi slightly pushed himself up. He wanted to be able to see your properly. His brown eyes softened at the sight of your hand against chest. You often called him a creep for staring at your sleeping face, but he always just shrugged it off.

After some time, Daichi found himself driting off to sleep, but not before he tightened his hold on you and kissed your forehead. “Sleep well, my love.”

Hours later, your eyes fluttered open, but you immediately cringed and shut them again.

The sun was facing directly at you. You had forgotten to close your blinds.

You tried to adjust your posture, but immediately stopped when you heard a low rumble from Daichi. No, you felt it, and you froze at the vibrations.

“Don’t move, love.”

Daichi’s voice was low and husky, and slightly dry. You lifted your head and found yourself still laying on his chest. Daichi’s arms were securely wrapped around you, his eyes were shut.

The sound of his morning voice hit you right in the stomach and you couldn’t help but brush your fingers against his cheekbones.

Daichi’s eyes shot open. His dark brown eyes met yours, and for a moment, everything stopped.

You looked so beautiful, Daichi thought.

“Good morning,” you whispered.

Daichi smiled at you and let his head drop back on the pillow. “It is a very good morning, indeed.”

You used your hands and slightly pushed yourself up, so you were now straddling Daichi’s waist. His eyes opened and landed on your nervous smile.

“What’s wrong?”

Daichi grabbed your hips and pushed himself up, so his back was against the headboard.

You now sat on his thighs, and his hold on you tightened a little bit.

You stared at the man in front of you. Even after having you sleep on him for hours, he still looked perfect. It pissed you off, especially since you knew you probably had some drool on your chin.

Daichi leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to your forehead. “Talk to me.”

You nodded and began to play with your fingers.

You couldn’t help but think of the final you had to take in a couple of days. It didn’t make sense, you thought. You had taken finals and tests before, but for some reason, the one you had in five days had disrupted your sleep and taken over your life.

“I’m so nervous for the final, Sawa. I feel like there’s a knot in my stomach and it keeps tightening. I can’t breathe.”

Daichi began to rub the skin above your hip with his fingers. He listened attentively. He was gonna let you talk first, getting everything off your chest.

“I know I always complain and then end up doing well, but what if this is the one I flunk? What if this is the one I end up failing? It’s so nerve wracking. I don’t even know if I wanna do this anymore.”

Daichi’s hands slipped under your shirt and he slowly began to massage your back and shoulder muscles. He wanted to offer you physical comfort.

He knew you were often a mess of nerves and anxiety a week before any test, and no matter how many times he assured you that you would do fine, you always ended up getting caught up in your head.

“I know it’s my dream. But at this point, dropping out sounds ideal. There’s enough doctors in the world, right? Maybe I should do something less nerve wracking.”

You sighed and closed your eyes. It felt nice to finally get your thoughts off your chest.

Daichi’s hands squeezed your hips in response. He hated hearing you talking yourself down. It made him feel so helpless, because for him, you were his everything. He had the upmost respect and belief in you.

“Y/n, love, from everyone in your life, you are the only one who doesn’t fully believe you can do this. I know medicine is a very hard and competitive occupation, but you know I believe in you. If anyone can power through this, it’s you.”

Tears had pooled in your eyes. Daichi had always been so good with words. You knew that Daichi had always been mature for his age, meaning his patience and abilityto comfort you was far better than anyone else’s.

His compassion and understanding was his greatest qualities. His calming aura always managed to break through all your walls. It was what made him such a good captain.

“What if I fail?”

You had mumbled your question, hoping he wouldn’t have caught it.

But he did.

Daichi leaned in and kissed your nose “You won’t. And if you do, then you fail. You shouldn’t be scared to fail, y/n. You should be scared to give up. If you fail, you can always take it again.”

You sighed and lightly nodded. Although you appreciated his words, you knew they would only comfort you for a day or two.

“Thank you, Sawa.”

You tried getting up from his lap, but Daichi had other plans. He grabbed your hips tightly and leaned in, kissing your lips.

You didn’t hesitate, you just began to kiss him back eagerly.

Daichi’s right hand slid up your back, pushing you into him.

Your lips moved together in sync, and you brought your hands to his hair, clutching the soft ends tightly.

Daichi slightly pulled away, only to gently kiss your lips again.

Before you could deepen it, he pulled away again.

“It’s not easy, y/n. But accomplishing your dream never is. You’re gonna do great, just like you always do. I believe in you, and it’s time you do as well.”

His words wrapped around your anxious thoughts and completely anguished them.

You nodded, your nose brushing his.

You closed your eyes and let your head drop on his shoulder. Daichi wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you flush against his chest.

You stayed in that position for hours.

You in Daichi’s lap, with his hands running up and down your back as he comforted you with his words of love and stories to keep your mind off everything.

You blinked a couple of times, trying to recall what exactly what exactly what you were doing.

As you recalled Daichi’s words, you let out a small breath.

He was right, you thought. You weren’t going to fail and you were going to be okay.

You grabbed the leather jacket, and slipped it on. It smelled of Daichi and it was exactly what you needed right now.

You walked into the kitchen and grabbed a packet of ramen.

As you made the noddles, you unknowingly smiled the whole time.

Thinking of Daichi had lifted your spirits and you felt better.

He loved you, and he believed in you, and for you, that was enough.

MAN, THIS SUCKS. I HAD TO RE-WRITE IT LIKE FOUR TIMES GODDAMN.

anyways, i absolutely love and adore daichi, and this is kinda eh😬 so forgive me. I’d been swarmed w work the past week and have no creative juices left.

i will write about this handsome man again.

daddyjackfrost © 2021 | all content belongs to me, do not modify

[novasintheroom]

Ooooo a fresh blog! Heyo there! So, my first request is some head canons, if you write them anyway, for the each of the turtles having a s/o who is usually the purest of beans. Like— she doesn’t get angry, usually shy when meeting new people, very humble, sweet and caring— but for the first time she does it’s like she realizes she’s frustrated and mad about something that happened during the day and it’s the first time she’s expressing it. the turtles notice her come in knowing something is off about her behavior when she’s usually so cheerful. Almost like “Sometimes it just makes me so— it makes me so... so...! Angry!” But she actually gets super surprised with herself realizing she’s actually venting just to say she’s fine in the end after bottling up for so long. The turtles just looking at her and asking if she’s okay 😂 If that makes any sense.. sorry if it doesn’t.

Oooooo my first ask!! I’m so nervous and excited! I think I got the gist of what you’re getting at. Thanks for sending this in, it means a lot to me! <3

Leo

·         Honestly caught off guard when you come in steaming

·         Your calm and sweetness is something he loves and looks forward to – it’s hard being the firm leader in his family when everyone pushes back, so you’re a pleasant break from the arguments and sassy remarks

·         Not today

·         It’s loud in the lair – Raph and Mikey are doing something with a basketball and hula hoop that’s got Raph raging and Mikey screaming, Donnie’s got a power tool going on the truck, and Splinter’s Celine Dion music is blaring to drown it all out while he works on pruning his plants

·         Leo’s up in the concrete rafters with a book, glancing down every other minute to make sure Raph doesn’t kill Mikey

·         He would have completely missed you coming in if Mikey hadn’t thrown the ball toward the entrance

·         You dodge the ball before it hits you, but instead of laughing it off like usual, you throw a dark look at his brothers and beeline toward the dojo.

·         Woah, that’s weird

·         Avoidance of his family = big red flag

·         You didn’t even say hi to him??

·         Hops down and follows, waving off Mikey’s calls to you

·         Finds you in the corner of the dojo, bag thrown to the side and hands smoothing out the sand of his small zen garden

·         Feels a bit awkward honestly

·         Listen, he’s getting better at it, but he’s not the best at feelings

·         Especially girl feelings

·         He knows something’s up though, and he wouldn’t be a good beau if he just let you simmer

·         Spooks you when he asks if you’re okay

·         Darn those ninja skills, how is someone as big as him so silent?

·         You sigh and just say you had a fight with your roommate and that it’s fine, you just needed some quiet before you went to his family

·         Okay, coolcoolcool. He can work with this. He and Raph fight all the time! “What was the fight about?”

·         Cue explosion

·         “She doesn’t pay her part of the bills on time, and she has her boyfriend over constantly and I can hear them through the walls when they’re screwing because the stupid cheap apartment has stupid cheap thin walls, and she leaves her dishes everywhere even when I ask her to not be a slob, and the landlord is getting after me for her rent when– “

·         W o w

·         He didn’t think you knew any swear words, but the names you’re calling your roommate would make even Raph blush

·         Your rant goes on and on

·         Anytime he tries to suggest a solution you get angry at him like why can’t he just listen omg

·         He shuts up quick

·         Somewhere in the process he sat down and your head moved to his lap while you laid all your problems out

·         By the time you’re finished your chest is heaving and it’s been an hour

·         Leo’s scared to say something in case you go off again lmao

·         He just plays with your hair and hums while you calm down

·         Finally you look at him with wide eyes, “Wow, geez, I didn’t think I was that mad.”

·         He can’t help but laugh, “Me neither.”

·         Your smile is back, though, and that’s the best thing he’s seen all day

·         “You feeling better now?”

·         You say yes, and give him a good hug and kiss as thanks for his patience

·         He asks you to come to him if things start building up again

·         Seriously, start talking to him – I don’t think the poor guy can handle another explosion like that lol

 Raph

·         Raph knows anger

·         Does he know how to deal with it? Ehhh that’s hit-and-miss

·         But he knows it

·         So seeing your tense shoulders, clenched fists, grinding teeth when you walk in – he knows you’re angry

·         It’s a bit off-putting tbh – you’re the calm to his rage, the quiet touch to wind him down when something gets under his skin

·         What happened to make his quiet girl so mad?

·         Did someone say something about your family?

·         Or something about your outfit?

·         Did a skeevy guy try to touch you?

·         Did someone try to kiss you?

·         Okay, now he’s getting mad

·         Decides to take a page from Splinter’s book and pulls you aside to talk

·         “What’s the matter?”

·         You pull at your sleeves, looking anywhere but him

·         You just mumble you’re fine, and that you’re hungry and try to move to the kitchen

·         Nuh-uh, that don’t work with him

·         Catches you by the arm and gives you a look, “Somethin’s bothering you, and you’re gonna tell me what it is.”

·         “And what if I don’t wanna talk about it?”

·         “Tough luck.”

·         Your glare could curdle milk, but you don’t say anything

·         Alright, you wanna play it that way? He’s got three brothers he grew up with; he can get it out of you.

·         Hauls you up and tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and takes you to his workout station

·         Ignores your screams of outrage and the beating fists on his shell

·         They’re like little kitten paw pats; he can’t help but smile at how small you really are

·         When he sets you down in front of a world-weary punching bag, he crosses his arms and waits

·         You’re red faced and snarling. “What are you doing?”

·         He raises a fist, and gives the bag a good punch – “That’s for when Mikey backwashed into my water bottle today.” He throws another punch, “And that’s for Donnie’s stupid snorts waking me up last night,” and another, “and now I’m back on Mikey’s backwash!”

·         He stops the bag’s swaying and gestures for you to take a turn

·         Realization dawns in your eyes. You look at your fist and throw a pathetic punch at it. “That’s…for my fifth plant…dying this week?”

·         He almost laughs, but nods encouragement

·         You punch again. “That’s for whoever stole my lunch out of the fridge at work.”

·         And again. “And for those kids who spit on that homeless guy!”

·         And again. “And for Gina’s face when she made fun of my teeth!”

·         Punch after punch, you let out your anger and frustrations that boiled over today

·         Raph’s impressed – not just with how much crap happened to you, but how long you held it in

·         You’re a lot stronger than he gave you credit for

·         He’s also a bit freaked at seeing the rage in your eyes

·         Is that what others see when he comes at them?

·         Yeesh

·         You feel a lot better after the session, if sheepish for letting so much anger show

·         But he brushes it off, “Hey, you see how I am. It don’t bother me none, sweetheart.”

·         He pinches your butt for good measure as you walk back to the lair and laughs when you punch him in the arm

 Donnie

·         The one that takes the longest to realize something’s up

·         He can’t help it! He’s busy making sure his family is safe and hidden! He’s gotta keep the firewall up-to-date from all the new viruses being put out, check the perimeter lasers so that no one sneaks up on them, change the oil in the Turtle Tank, and why is the computer sparking over here, he needs to ask Raph or Leo to come with him to get new parts at the junkyard, but if he –

·         Bumps into you and is like ‘oh. how’d you get in here’

·         Delighted to see you though! It’s like all his worries suddenly vanished when he realized ‘oh yeah! I have a girlfriend!’ and that’s you!

·         Missed you a lot since it’s been a few days since you could visit

·         Starts showing you all of the progress he’s made on certain things, asks you how school’s going, how was that group project you had, did you get that interview for work?

·         It’s your clipped and short answers that finally makes him take a step back and really see how you’re doing

·         You’ve always been enthusiastic about his inventions, even if you don’t completely understand every technical thing he talks about. He thought you guys were past the awkward conversations too.

·         Clipped answers are a big no-no – it makes him shrink inside, like his words and ideas don’t matter

·         Takes a few seconds to look you over – awkward seconds, ones where you look down and away and not at him

·         “Are you alright? Did…something happen?”

·         You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself, but then the words just start pouring out: “I’m sorry, it’s just, I can’t stop thinking about how my supervisors treated me the past few days. They scheduled me to work a triple shift! Without asking me! And I told them I had a date with you, and a million other things to do, but – “

·         You lay it out for him, apologizing every other minute for just putting this on him out of the blue, that you tried really hard to be happy coming to the lair but your boss just text you that you have another shift tonight instead of getting to hang out with Donnie, and –

·         Donnie sits you both down in a couple of chairs, his hands holding your own as you keep talking and venting

·         Rubs circles into your palm, eyes never straying from your own watery and frustrated ones

·         A breath out of the nose is the end to your rant, and you lean to put your head on his shoulder. “I just hate when people spring things on me! I just wanna stay with you and hand you tools to work on stuff.”

·         His heart warms at this, even if he’s sad at how sucky your job is

·         And it gives him an idea

·         He manages to hack into your work’s scheduling system and put your supervisors or fellow employees in your place for the night

·         Even sends out a text masked as your head boss to whoever he put, letting them know they’re on the job and that you had an emergency

·         You’re torn on this – those people had things they had to do too

·         But Donnie reassures you: “If they’re as bad as you say, then getting more people mad at them might just make them change. If not, we at least get to have our date night, right?”

·         Well, when you put it that way…

·         He gets a big, long smooch for pulling it off and for listening to you

Mikey

·         Listen, this boy is intuitive when it comes to emotions.

·         He kinda has to be with the type of older brothers he has lmao

·         Instantly knows something’s up by the sound of your feet coming down the tunnels – heavy, like you want to stomp them but don’t know how

·         He’s geared up though – his baby girl’s coming!

·         Hops off the couch and has the biggest grin for you when you walk in

·         Doesn’t even falter when he sees the glower on your face

·         Says something stupid to test the waters – “Woah, babe, I’m gonna have to call the cops – I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to be as fine as you are!”

·         Not even a smirk.

·         Okay okay. Obvi you’re not in a happy mood.

·         Man, he was hoping for a little blush at least!

·         Takes that heavy bag off your shoulders you’ve been lugging around all day and corrals you back to the couch

·         Grabs some sodas and a few chocolate bars from his hidden stash in the kitchen

·         He knows you need it more than him right now

·         Sits down and calls out to the lair that “we’re making out on the couch!!” Def keeps his family from coming in and interrupting lol

·         Isn’t even phased when you explode about your day – your coworker had it out for you, your professor told the whole class that your paper was what not to do if you wanted a good grade, etc. etc.

·         Mikey accents your day with “No!” and “He didn’t!” and “What a jerk!”

·         It’s cathartic to hear someone agree with you like that

·         He takes you in his arms when the frustrated tears start falling and you start to wind down

·         “It just makes me so angry, and I hate feeling embarrassed and…”

·         Rubs circles on your back to help calm you, just like his family did to him growing up

·         After a minute you’re better, and back to your sweet, happy self, if still a bit stuffy from the tears and snot

·         You’re surprised and apologize for your emotions, but he stops you

·         “Hey, everyone has their bad days! Sometimes you just gotta let it out, y’know?”

·         You give him a big kiss for being so sweet

·         Makes the day a lot better after that with the soda and candy and some video games

·         He’s a good turt <3