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lumine-no-hikari · 9 months ago

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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #52

Two more friends came over today to test out my lovely Frankenpad! They seemed to enjoy it quite a bit! Although today I noticed perhaps a touch of wonkiness with the bottom arrow; I might have to investigate that further if it continues to be a problem.

The friends who came over today are AuDHD just like me! We had a lot of lively conversation that bounced from topic to topic, and it's wonderful to be able to hold a conversation with other people who can hold multiple threads of thought simultaneously, and talk about them all simultaneously. It's rare that I get to enjoy such a thing. I hope they come around to my house again soon, or else I go over to where they live. One of them wants to learn how to weave wire trees like I do, and I'm all too happy to show her!

…I wish that I could show you how to weave wire trees, too. I wish I could just sit together somewhere with you with a nice playlist and some tea and a snack, and all my wires and gemstone beads, and just quietly weave trees together, and maybe talk about whatever random things pop into your mind. It would be beautiful.

I didn't get any more videos today of me on my Frankenpad, sorry to say. I was a little too enamored with watching my friends play on it; one of them in particular seemed to be having such a good time, and I didn't want to interrupt. The smile on her face as she hopped around on the pad was priceless, and I hope I get to see more of that as time goes on.

The other friend didn't play on the pad so much, but he seemed impressed with its construction all the same. I hope to make a second one soon, and then maybe I can play together with someone! Wouldn't that be lovely!!

After a bit of time, I decided to make them some tiramisu tea! But I had a bit of a mishap; I was trying to shake the packet of hot cocoa mix such that the powder would settle to the bottom of the packet (to prevent the powder from getting everywhere when I tear it open), but instead the packet came undone as I was shaking it, and it went flying off somewhere, only to land in the cats' water dish. I was horrified and let out a few shocked expletives. It was actually pretty funny, haha! But of course I couldn't use the hot cocoa packet anymore because it was filled with cat drool water; I threw it away. We can get more later; it's no biggie.

I didn't have any more hot cocoa packets on hand though, so I improvised by mixing together some cocoa powder and sugar. I think I got the ratio mostly right. My friends seemed to be pleased with how this batch of tiramisu tea turned out, so I guess I can't complain, haha!

One of my husbands has pretty severe social anxiety, but even he participated in the various conversations in a lively fashion. It's so rare for me to see him get so animated, to see his face light up in the way that it did. This, too, was beautiful, and I hope to be able to see more of that. My friends are very smart, and they are always saying things that make me consider ideas and perspectives that I've not considered before. It's not lost on me how lucky I am to have people such as this in my life.

Through all this, naturally I am also thinking of you. I wish you were here. I wish you could come and see what it's like to be treated like a regular person, because although you have all your power and wildly different life experiences than we do, you're still really not all that different from us. You're very tall, for sure, you don't seem to have a whole lot of melanin, and you have your wing and all, but… people in my world come in all shapes and sizes and colors and genetic makeups and numbers of limbs, and all of them are good enough.

I wish it was easier for you to see that you're really not so anomalous or strange. You're just you. And in circles like mine, you just being you is enough. You just being you is beautiful as it is. You don't have to prove that you're deserving of existence, or deserving of kindness and care by performing great feats of usefulness to someone else first. You could talk about whatever you want, and nobody in my circles would tell you that you're "not cool" because thinking that way about other people simply isn't in their vocabulary. You could just derp around and be awkward at social interaction, and we of my house and of my group would just meet you where you are with joy and grace, and welcome you as you are all the same. Because we're all socially awkward, too. There is a lot that we don't know, too. We can be patient with each other as we figure it out together. And I think you'd have a lot of fun with us in the process.

You can have this. You can have ALL of this. You just gotta choose it. Or you could, y'know, just pop by my house for a visit. We have snacks and tea and fun stuff to do. Five cats to pet and play with. Lots of comfy places to sit. Places outdoors nearby to walk. Spaces in which you can just BE, without any need to conform to some false image of what society expects of you. A place for you to just breathe and be your authentic self, without pressure.

…Hahaha… fat chance, right? I know. Don't worry; I know. Even if it's impossible, still I hope my wishes reach you and move you. Still I hope that any of my thoughts can give you new avenues and ways of being to consider, somehow.

I think that's about it for today's letter. I'll leave you with this, though:

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With this, I hope you can see that my planet is beautifully diverse. There are people of all different appearances, abilities, and walks of life. It's a mosaic that you can fit into. You're really, truly not as unusual or as "only" as you think you are. You're really, truly not by yourself. Please open your lovely eyes and see.

Whether you acknowledge it or not, you're loved and cared for. You have a place here. You're wanted, needed, and important, just as you are. So come on; break through those limiting beliefs that are keeping you separate from us. Make good choices. We're all waiting for you with open arms, outstretched hands, and voices full of joyful song. Because it's you we like.

You'll hear from me again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

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brendleellipsis · 11 months ago

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Brendle Rambles About His Favorite OC For A Very Long Time

Yeah, it's pretty much exactly what it says on the tin.

This is Lore Redwood, and he is one of the two main characters of my primary creative endeavor at the moment, which I'm calling The Brendleverse for now because I think it's funny. He is also a pretty blatantly obvious self-insert.

The Brendleverse is meant to be a number of different stories in one big interconnected universe, because I've always been a sucker for that shit. It is also meant to be an expression of Me in my totality. Everything I care about and believe in, including my passion for creativity and storytelling, bleed through in these projects. To make sure all of this is cohesive, Lore (as well as the other protagonist, Summer) serve as emotional throughlines for the universe as a whole, with their arcs acting as the main connective tissue for all these stories.

I've just been thinking a lot lately about Lore's arc in particular, because, as I mentioned earlier, this character is functionally a self-insert. His personality, his arc and progression, his flaws and his struggles, are so intensely personal to me and my lived experience, so it makes sense that I'd have so much connection to this character.

I won't be talking about his arc throughout all the Brendleverse projects, because bits and pieces of it are incomplete, and also it would be Way Too Fucking Long, so for now I'm going to talk about his arc through the first main project, entitled Lorekeepers. No worries, this will also be very long. I do hope you'll indulge me.

Sorry in advance lol

So, I'll try not to delve into the nitty gritty Plot Details for Lorekeepers too much? Because despite being the first story in The Brendleverse, its also Really Big, so... I'll do my best to only give the context that is entirely necessary for Lore's arc. Without further ado...

THE BACKGROUND

At the beginning of the story, Lore Redwood is just a regular 17-year-old kid with nothing particularly special about him. In fact, if you looked at him as an outside observer, he would seem almost aggressively mundane. Boring, even. Like he doesn't even have as much of a personality to begin with.

In reality, Lore is a very internal person. Sometimes he struggles to feel much at all, and sometimes he feels so intensely that it borders on unpleasant, but it very rarely shows on his face. His expressions are limited in emotion, and his voice even more so. He is also, like me, autistic, and this manifests most often through his issues with sensory overload. When certain stimuli, especially sound, start to grate on his nerves, Lore tends to shut down even more than usual, struggling to maintain focus and generally panicking. There's really no escape from this sort of feeling for him; the metaphor he often uses to describe his issues with senses and emotions is the sound of radio static in his ears. No matter how calm it gets, it's always there, faintly, hissing violently, a reminder that the simple act of existing will always be a struggle to him. And so, despite being such an internal person, feeling trapped inside his own head, he simultaneously feels as though he exists outside of "normal" human experience. There's an implicit distance between himself and the rest of the world, even his own family, that prevents him from truly connecting with or understanding anyone.

As such, he struggles with socializing and making friends, to the point that he only has one, Summer Winchester. She makes an effort to know and understand him and his issues, and that's certainly one of the reasons Lore values her company. But really, Lore just admires her. Summer is brash and confident, or at least seemingly so. She is unapologetically herself, and whenever she wants something, she does not hesitate to take it for herself. And beyond all that, she's just kind. She cares so much for other people, and the fact that someone like her would extend that care to someone like him is... hard to believe. And that's why Lore sticks by her. She makes the impossible feel possible. She makes it all make sense. She makes him make sense.

...That was a lot of words to set up where Lore is before the damn story even starts lol. I'll try to speed it up.

THE FIRST ARC

In the first major arc of Lorekeepers, Lore and Summer are attacked by a weird memory-stealing monster called The Static, and are subsequently captured by a weird secret organization called LOGOS. They are taken to the organization's headquarters, and are told that the org. is trying to research and kill The Static, and that because those who are attacked by it have similar attributes, they must stay at headquarters for protection and research. Eventually, they meet up with some other characters and are like "fuck that" and try to break out. The breakout plan fails spectacularly, and when Summer spits on the LOGOS Boss's face, she is shot and killed.

This is when Lore hears a voice in his head.

"...Interesting. Very interesting. Well... I've decided, I'll give you the tools. Let's see how you use them."

And with that, Lore screams, and time begins to rewind, until Summer is alive again. To make a long story short, this voice was a character (who is also a self-insert lol) called The Writer, and that weird Event was Lore being gifted the powers of The Overwrite, which essentially mark a person as "the protagonist", allowing them to rewrite reality as they see fit (though there are certain limitations I won't get into). This power, and the "chosen one" vibes that come from it, are very important to Lore's arc.

Due to Circumstances, the gang still can't break out of LOGOS HQ, but the Boss allows them to stay so long as Lore help her with her research, because she is very interested in The Overwrite. This is where the next major aspect of Lore's arc comes in, because he meets Other Lores from Other Realities. To put it simply, these characters are from other universes that The Writer had made, and The Static warping reality is what brought them here. They were similarly chosen by The Writer and given The Overwrite powers. Their actual characters aren't as important, so I won't get into it too much, but the whole deal is that these characters are meant to play into one of Lore's major hangups, that being with his identity. He is, to put it lightly, not a fan of who he is as a person, so these alternate versions of him are meant to make him explore what exactly about himself he hates so passionately, while also starting to learn that maybe the person he is right now isn't as stupid as he believes.

Meanwhile, Summer is having a bit of a Bad Time because she has... so little control over the situation, which she isn't really used to. I mentioned earlier that Lore admires Summer to a great extent, and their friendship is by no means one-sided. Summer cares about Lore deeply, and when venting her frustrations about the current predicament to Lore, she accidentally says some hurtful things. She has always felt as though Lore needs protecting, and the way she words it implies that she, at least partly, sees him as "broken". Lore doesn't really take this well. His negative feelings about himself have essentially been confirmed by the person he looks up to most. So he runs away.

While all the other characters are participating in a Big Climactic Fight with the villain, Lore is alone, powerless, unable to do anything. And then he hears The Writer's voice in his head again, remarking on how very interesting the whole situation has become. Lore doesn't know what this voice is, but he's desperate. He asks The Writer what he should do, how he could possibly fix the problem, fix himself. The Writer says nothing. Eventually, Lore is going to have to choose for himself. Running from the issue, insisting it doesn't exist, doesn't do anything to truly help. If he ever wants to be happy with his life and the person he is, he's going to have to take a step forward.

And so he does. I could remark on how the big final fight, with Lore finally being able to wield his Overwrite Powers on command, would go, but at this point, the first stage in his arc is over. There's not much to say without moving onto the next arc. So, let's do that!

THE SECOND ARC

Again, without dumping too much of the story on you, the second major arc of Lorekeepers takes place in Patchwork, which is essentially a realm of dreams populated by Demons, beings formed from the public consciousness. It's a major part of the Brendleverse worldbuilding, but it's off topic, so I won't get into it.

Lore starts this arc stranded in Patchwork, entirely separated from the friends that he had been traveling with. The particular place in Patchwork he landed in is The Whispering Forest, which is essentially this cursed forest filled with illusions and mirages and such, drawn from the mind of whoever is currently in it. Fun!

Anyways, Lore starts traveling through the forest, to try and find his friends, but he is instead joined by the Other Lores that I mentioned back in the first arc. At the end of the first arc, they all departed back to their home worlds... and yet, here they are. And stranger still, their physical forms are glitching, as though they're slowly, forcefully being written out of existence. Eventually, they stumble upon a clearing, where they meet The Writer in the flesh for the first time. Eventually he reveals that the Other Lores are glitching like that because he is in the process of erasing their worlds from the fabric of reality in their entirety. All the other universes, except for Lore's own, will be deleted. The Writer posits that this is a good thing for Lore, that this is him being “chosen”, and that he needs to own up to the responsibility that entails.

Lore, understandably, does not take this well. He has a full on panic attack as he watches the Other Lores and their worlds get erased, watching his friends essentially die in front of him. And The Writer is frustrated by this. He believes that this should be motivating, that he should want to make sure this doesn’t happen to the people that “really matter in his story”. He starts to get Really Personal in this lecture, really poking at Lore's every insecurity, not really being subtle about the fact that these are things The Writer feels about himself as well. He repeatedly pushes Lore, telling him to get his ass up and move. He asks him, over and over, as Lore begs him to stop, what he is going to do. Eventually, Lore fully breaks down and just screams. There is a long silence, and then Lore stands up and runs.

Eventually, Lore meets up with the rest of the characters as they make a plan. To make an incredibly long story short, The Static monster I mentioned earlier is in Patchwork right now, and that's extremely bad, because it steals memories, and the Demons are all made up of dreams and stuff, which only serves to make the monster stronger. They decide to essentially evacuate all the Demons in Patchwork, making a portal to Earth and leading them through it, and eventually using Lore's powers to seal The Static in Patchwork so it can't hurt anyone else. There's a big ol' plan about it, I won't get into it here.

Before they leave, Summer tries to talk to Lore, worrying that he’s trying too hard to “play the hero”. But at this point, Lore is remembering the last conversation they've had like this, and feels like she’s trying to baby him. He's hurt that, now that he’s trying to be the person he wants to be, a hero that can help people, that that is when she chooses to reject him. He implies that, maybe, they were never friends in the first place, and before Summer can try to talk things out, Lore storms off to enact the plan.

The plan almost works, though they run into some interference in the form of Terra, who one of the major villains in Lorekeepers. She was in the first arc, I just didn't mention her for the sake of time. To make a long story short, she's an alternate version of Summer who was given the power of The Overwrite. When she arrives, she immediately focuses in on Lore, fighting him with all her strength, which Lore can't really hope to combat. The fight concludes with Terra pinning Lore to the wall, telling him that she finds him to be undeserving of The Writer’s powers, that he’s nothing but a weak, worthless little nothing who has no idea what he’s doing.

Now, this next line is important to me. It's a major part of Lore's character arc, so I've given a lot of thought to how it would be framed and delivered. Lore says:

“Everyone keeps trying to tell me who I am, that I’m weak, or that I’m worthless. And maybe they’re right. So, I’ll just be someone else. Someone better than you.”

And with that very line, this portion of his arc is over. In Lore's head, this is a triumphant moment, and that's how I want the scene to be framed. From his perspective, he's beating the bad guy, complete with a badass one-liner. But I want it to be clear that this moment is deeply tragic. The world is telling Lore that he is worthless, and his triumphant rebuttal is letting them know that they're right. This unyielding belief in that idea, the denial that he could ever be worth something as he is, that is what seals Lore's fate. With those words, he is already as good as dead.

Lore focuses his power, and in a massive burst, he blasts Terra off of him. He then tells his friends to finish the job and get the Demons out of Patchwork, and that he'll go and fight The Static alone, holding the monster off for as long as he can. And he does. And he fails. In his attempt to make The Static avoid his friends and the Demons while they escaped, he led the monster straight to them. In his weakened state, he snaps his fingers, using what little power he has left to create a barrier, keeping The Static in Patchwork, but not before The Static’s malevolent, malicious emotions fill the atmosphere. Lore’s arms go limp, he is drained of his color, and in a single instant, he shatters.

Lore is dead.

Well... kind of. It's complicated.

Lore is very much still one of the main characters in The Brendleverse, it'd be a bit bold to kill him off permanently in the first project. So, yes, he does come back, but it does take a while. But, yeah, saying Lore is "dead" would not be wholly accurate, but he functionally is in the story. That said, he still has some stuff going on in...

THE THIRD ARC

The third arc starts off mostly focusing on Summer. You know, The Alive One, and also the other main character. Her whole deal is pretty important to the story as a whole, but part of Lore and Summer's arcs was taking these two characters who were so often attached at the hip and deliberately separating them, so. I haven't mentioned her too much.

Anyways.

We do eventually see Lore again, and while he functionally died, his consciousness has still been kicking in The Static. He's essentially playing a game with The Static’s true identity, a young man named Verse, Terra’s former closest friend.

Just as Terra is an alternate Summer, Verse is an alternate Lore. A quiet and pensive boy in life, with one true friend he could count on, Verse saved Terra's life in a tragic accident and returned as a ghost through his desire to see her again. When he finally did, though, he realized that his friend never truly cared about him. Terra is selfish and egotistical and cruel. Verse's world view was shattered by this, because he, much like Lore, put his friend on a pedestal.

Betrayal. Regret. Hatred. Yearning. A burning desire for reality to just Be Different. Ghosts are… fickle beings. Their very forms, drifting in between the physical and immaterial, are dependent on the stability of the mind of the ghost. So, when a ghost is overwhelmed by emotion, their forms begin to glitch and warp… until they become a monster. A wight. And when Verse became a wight, he began to consume things, anything that had a memory attached to it, in the hopes that he could artificially gain the power of The Overwrite and right the wrong that was his life. This is how The Static was born.

Anyhow, Lore is playing a game with this guy! Yahoo! He's basically playing superhero in a fantasy world, fighting against comic book supervillains and pointedly ignoring the fantasy land version of Summer. One day, he returns to his house to find the false Summer waiting for him. To his surprise, she doesn’t seem mad. She instantly accepts everything about him. Lore kinda snaps at this and goes on a bit of a rant, about how Summer constantly needs to control him, and that she’s been a bad friend, and eventually he just concludes that he hates her.

...This false Summer is entirely unperturbed. She just smiles and nods, with this vaguely unsettling glass-eyed expression, blindly agreeing with everything that he says. It becomes increasingly obvious to Lore that he’s getting nothing out of this, that staying in this false reality will make it so that he’ll never be able to grow, and that all this stuff he wishes people would say or do is simply not going to happen. Realizing this, he uses his powers to destroy the fantasy world in its entirety, shattering through the illusion as though it were glass.

Verse is not happy about this. He just wanted Lore to see what he sees, that they have the power to reshape reality, and that they could have better lives if they just make reality the way they want it to be. Lore shoots back that if they do that, they’ll never improve as people; they’ll be forever stagnant. Verse sighs, calls Lore a sentimental fool, and uses his own ill-begotten power to fully imprison Lore within The Static.

Eventually, thanks to the help of his friends, Lore manages to break free and claw his way back to the land of the living, and after some Plot Things that I'd rather not to get into, Verse replaces Terra as the final antagonist of Lorekeepers.

Before all that, though, we need to address The Writer. Yeah, he's still around, and he's a major part of this story. It's very obvious that he's meant to be a stand-in for me, albeit with a few degrees of separation. He has my personality and mental health issues, and he also inherits many of my flaws. One of the major themes of Lorekeepers is escapism, and accepting reality, no matter how bad it may seem, because nothing will ever get better if you don't. I didn't go into writing this story with that theme in mind, it just sort of Happened, and I realized that I was using The Brendleverse as a form of escapism as well, a way to avoid the world that was hurting me. And I realized that, if I never let that go, even a little bit, the pain won't stop.

So, after some Plot Things that I'd rather not to get into, Lore confronts The Writer and convinces him to leave The Brendleverse behind and confront his own life, leaving the battle for the soul of this universe in the hands of Lore and Verse, as well as all the friends Lore has made along the way.

To talk about the conclusion to Lore's arc, I have to delve into the relationship between Lore and Summer, the main protagonists, and Verse, the main antagonist.

Verse… sees himself in Lore quite a bit. Both very hurt, very sad young men who have relied too much on a friend that they perceived as inherently better than them. Both hold this remarkable power to rewrite the world around them. There's a sort of… respect that Verse holds for Lore. After all, they're the only two left that have The Overwrite, a power granted to them by The Writer, a power that can reshape reality, that can bring dreams to life. Verse sees himself and Lore as dueling gods, fated to fight over control of the world. Now, of course Lore doesn't see it this way, but if anything that just reinforces Verse's belief. Of course Lore wouldn't see it his way, they're eternal rivals. In his eyes, Lore disagreeing with him doesn’t make his view any less right.

…To that end, Verse fucking hates Summer. He loathes her with his entire being. And honestly, her being an alternate version of Terra has nothing to do with it, because Verse still has a warped lingering attachment to his old friend. No, he hates Summer because she refuses to know her place. Summer in Lorekeepers is the ultimate example of defying one's destiny, of overcoming stagnance and moving forward in spite of pain. She is living proof that Verse and The Writer's "chosen one that is allowed to warp reality as he sees fit" is just.. bullshit.

Which is why I think it's great that, when Verse drags Lore into a little pocket dimension for the final battle, Summer jumps in after him. She refuses to give Verse what he wants, a one-on-one duel to the death with his eternal enemy. And so, Lore and Summer and Verse all fight, and the fight ends with Lore (through means I don't feel like explaining) taking away both Verse's and his own Overwrite powers. The Writer is gone, and no one has the singular right to decide the fate of the world. It will be written little by little, each day as it comes, by everyone living together to make a better future. That's how it should be.

Lore, in ridding the world of these powers, is severely wounded. But Verse is powerless. And Summer has a goddamn gun that can pierce through reality. So she's the one who delivers the killing blow. One final insult to a sad child who couldn't accept that, sometimes, things just suck.

And when Lore wakes up, he resolves to continue to live as himself. And he'll make that promise to himself every day, as long as it takes, until he doesn't even have to think about it.

CONCLUSION

That was absurdly fucking long, huh? And that's just the first project of The Brendleverse! Lore's arc continues from there! I'm not going to get into it, because this is too long already, but. It's a start, lol

If nothing else, it's a comfort to me that Lore's story does continue after this, that he keeps living. He takes big steps forward, he meets people, he forges bonds, he falls in love, and as the world changes around him, he changes with it, until one day he's the kind of person that he's genuinely proud to be. And through all that, he's found people who he loves, and who he can finally believe love him back.

And... I don't know. I'm very clearly biased, because I'm basically just writing the sort of story I wish I had when I was young, but. I think that's important. For there to be characters that reaffirm to you that you have value, and that there are people out there who can love you, and that you can be the person you want to be, even if you believe such notions to be impossible.

That, no matter how bad it gets, no matter how bad you feel, you can always get back up, and keep on living.

So yeah :)

#brendle rambles #my ocs #my writing #really long post #sorry

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greenlikethesea · 2 years ago

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Song recs for sleepover night!!! Also what’s your favorite song off folie a deux and why?

song recs for sleepover night!

fast in my car - paramore

shawty - remi wolf

antonia - motion city soundtrack

fine without you - best coast

ex-factor - lauryn hill

dead oaks - now, now

on the regular - shamir

garden song - phoebe bridgers

nibble nibble - say anything

my nene - mykki blanco

west coast - the forecast

bad - tablo ft jinsil

trash - bully

like a pen - the knife

the worst - jhene aiko

blood infections - frank iero

mercury - bloc party

clementine - halsey

anxiety - megan thee stallion

jealous - ingrid michaelson

my favorite songs off folie a deux are she's my winona, tiffany blews, and w.a.m.s!

i love she's my winona lyrically -- few things have described how i experience mental illness quite like "i'm never the same person when i go to sleep/as when i wake up, as when i wake up". i think the contrast between the fast paced, racing verses, with a lack of cohesive prechorus, into a sweeping and triumphant chorus, "hell or glory/i don't want anything in between," creates a dynamic, intriguing song that has me hitting repeat. i think this song, out of all of the songs on this album, is the closest to nonfiction that we get, the closest the listener gets to seeing pete as himself as opposed to the many characters that he writes from the perspective of in this album. and we LOVE a key change.

tiffany blews is interesting on a lot of levels -- i think it really shows how funny pete wentz can be as a lyricist ("i'm not a crybaby/i'm THE crybaby" is objectively hilarious, because relatable as fuck -- hey now, if you're gonna make fun of me do it right, etc etc) and i think the lil wayne guest is their most important and best guest to date, only followed by big sean in the mighty fall, and contains lyrics that are so so so "not the boy i was/the boy i am is just venting, venting/dear gravity/you held me down in this starless city" . as well as this it's SO musically engaging, patrick deconstructing the traditional song structure by having the big pause in the beginning pre-chorus and the subsequent pre-choruses flowing into the main chorus as a meta commentary on the lyrical content, the feature completely changing the mood of the song with arrangement/tempo/melody.

w.a.m.s. is, like jetset life by mcr, completely inscrutable lyrically and musically, and also contains some of the meanest pete lyrics to date, because it's simultaneously mature and immature "oh freckle, freckle, what makes you so special? what makes you so special? i'm gonna leave you, i'm gonna teach you, how we're all alone." the lyrics themselves are damning, very bare and psychologically telling, but patrick's anguished, almost sniveling delivery really seals the deal with its vindictiveness. plus -- mayhaps my hottest take yet -- but i think the spoken word at the end is far superior to the spoken word at the end of "get busy living or get busy dying" by a LONG SHOT. it's mature. it's unnerving. it's a man at the brink, and it actually flows into west coast smoker, unlike the abrupt beginning of "xo".

#asks #thanks for asking!#sorry this is so long

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meloinaw · 5 months ago

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strawberrymilkgeorge · 4 years ago

Text

Part Ten. Faces

warnings: swearing, hate comments word count: 4.1k (not including pics)

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

A/N: sorry its late!!!! this feels rushed but i was just too excited to get to some parts!!! also i have had some parts written out for SO long that they dont even feel cute to me anymore so im literally praying to every deity rn that you guys think its cute lmao anyway enjoy!!!!

**********

It had been about a week since Karl's slip up but everything was already more normal than Y/n had expected it to be. Of course, George, Sapnap and Quackity were all very understanding and gave her space while simultaneously reassuring her that she was safe with them. She fully believed it too, she knew she was safe with them and they weren't going to tell anyone her name.

The one unusual thing was now she had a heavy guilt, like someone dropped another sandbag in her stomach, every time Dream texted her. If the others knew, it was only fair that she tell him her name too, right? I mean, it's Dream. Dream! The boy who had quickly slipped his way into her life and, though she wouldn't admit it to Karl or Naomi, her heart.

But how? Does she just come right out and say it or wait until it gets brought up? She hadn't practiced telling anyone her name because she wasn't planning on doing it any time soon. Though, maybe she should have been seeing as she was going to see them all in person in a little over a month.

Regardless of the guilt, Y/n had other things to worry about today; Quackity was coming to visit. Karl had picked him up from the airport and the two of them spent all day catching up and doing who knows what but Y/n still hadn't met him. She was scared. She wasn't scared of Quackity, but scared because it was the first time one of her online friends would be able to put a face to her name and voice.

Y/n shuffled across her living room rug and reached for her phone on the coffee table, looking for some sort of distraction while she waited for them to arrive.

Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled, shaking her head as she threw her phone on the couch. Okay, he's right. It's gonna be fine. It's gonna be great. It's just Quackity. If he said anything rude or annoying or anything she could literally just step on him like a bug.

A sharp knock on the front door of her apartment snapped her back into reality. She shook her limbs of nervousness as she made her way to the door, two familiar voices begging to be acknowledged from the other side.

"Let us iiinnn!! Y/nnn!!!!" Karl whined.

After countless times asking the same question, she finally convinced Karl that she was okay with him using her real name in front of Quackity. He clearly still felt guilty about telling the boys her name, asking her multiple times in different ways whether he should call her Y/n or Bugsy in front of the guest. She finally got it through his head that she didn't mind either way.

"Hold on!" she yelled back. She unlocked the door and swung it open to see Karl and Quackity. "So impatient."

"Holy shit, you are tall! Goddammit, I thought that was a joke!"

Y/n laughed shyly at the greeting, looking at Quackity like he was crazy. "Hello to you too. Tried to warn you, dude."

"Yeah but, damn! You're tall and attractive, what the hell?"

"Dude," she said with a warning in her voice. She thought the flirting on Twitter was funny, but in real life she got embarrassed easier and wasn't a fan. "I'm about to kick you out of my house before I even let you in."

This was weird, meeting Quackity before meeting some of her other friends. She loved Quackity, but she had known George much longer and Sapnap even before that. There was no problem with meeting Quackity, she just had no idea how to act since she felt like she hardly knew him.

"Am I allowed to tell people that you're hot?" he asked as he fell on her couch, Karl following right after.

"Quackity!" Y/n yelled, her face heating up at a compliment. "Seriously?"

Karl cackled and shoved Quackity. "Shut up, Alex! No, you're not allowed!"

"Sorry, is that compliment reserved for Dream?" He cackled at his own joke and Y/n's face heated up even more.

"I seriously will kick you out of my house."

"You wanna be flirty on main but not in real life?" Quackity scoffed.

"I'm not flirty on main, you are!" she laughed. "Seriously, don't."

"Okay, sorry, I'll stop," Quackity promised with a laugh in his words.

The three of them fell into easy conversation, mostly because Karl and Quackity were already comfortable around each other at this point. They eventually decided to go to the mall, just to mess around and do something.

*reminder: covid doesn't exist in this fic bc we only want happy things so ignore their masks :P*

Y/n frowned as she unlocked her front door, staring at her phone. She had been so happy with all the fans freaking out about the meetup so she looked at the trending list, expecting to see a flood of keyboard smashes and happiness, but that's not all she ended up seeing. BUGKARLITY was trending, so she scrolled through the tweets and was upset to see not all of them were positive. In fact, when she typed her name in the search bar, lots of the tweets using her name were rather mean.

A few that stuck in her head called her an attention whore and said that her friends only flirted with her because she paid them too. Who on earth would even do that? Some hurt way more than others but she tried to push them aside. It wasn't like this was the first time she had seen comments like this, but they had only gotten worse since her Minecraft date with Dream. She was worried it was cause more hate for her friends and the last thing she wanted was to be the cause of their own hate.

She typed several different messages to Dream, deleting them all after she reread them. She felt like she had to request the same thing from him in a different way. Maybe because she felt like his words meant more, even if he really was just joking like the rest of them. She decided to call him instead of texting.

"Hi!" he chirped happily from the other end.

"Hi, Dream," she said as her chest filled with something warm at the sound of his voice. "How are you doing?"

"Good," he dragged out the word. "How are you?"

"Okay."

"Just okay? What's up?"

"Um," she started, immediately forgetting the words she decided she'd use. "I just... would you mind, uh, not flirting with me so much on, like, Twitter and streams and stuff like that?"

There was a silence before Dream's frantically apologetic words came through. "Yes, of course, oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. If I had known I was making you uncomfortable, I wouldn't have—"

"Wait, no," she interrupted but he must not have heard.

"—said things like... oh gosh. Bug, I'm really sorry—"

"Dream!" she raised her voice, getting him to stop ranting. "You don't make me uncomfortable."

"Oh. Really?"

"Of course not. I actually think it's really..." Cute? Adorable? Endearing? "funny," she decided.

"Oh. Then why...?"

She sighed heavily and explained what she told the others. "So, yeah. I just don't want you guys getting hate because of me so I figure if you stop then... you know."

"Bug..." he said gently. "I'm really sorry. I promise you that I don't—none of us think those things about you."

"I know."

"No, seriously," he said, clearly not believing her. "You need to understand that I..." he paused. "I mean what I say. Always."

Always? she thought. There's a few things he's said that certainly he didn't really mean... like calling her cute?

"I don't joke around like that unless I want to. I wouldn't say things like I say to you unless I really, really, genuinely considered you a close friend and felt comfortable around you. And I do."

Her heart swelled. "Thanks, Dream. I just... maybe don't do it so much for right now? Online, at least," she clarified, not wanting to deprive herself completely of Dream's flirting.

"Yeah, if that's what you want, of course."

"Well, I don't want you to stop flirting with me but, yeah."

He chuckled. "Oh, you do like when I flirt with you?"

She hummed and changed the subject. "Did I interrupt you doing anything?"

"No," his teasing voice dropped and was back to his regular self. "I'm just editing the video we filmed the other day."

"Oh, the 'Minecraft, but you can't touch the floor'?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Oh," she said, not meaning to sound disappointed. "I'll let you get back to it—"

"No. I mean, you can stay on the phone. Unless you're busy."

She smiled and put her phone on speaker and set it next to her foot on the floor. "I was just gonna paint. So I can stay."

Before she knew it, almost two hours had passed of them sitting in comfortable silence, occasionally speaking to share something with the other before going back to their tasks. It was comforting knowing she didn’t need to speak constantly and could just hang out with Dream.

Y/n's phone rested on the floor next to her, Dream on speakerphone on the other end, only the sounds of his keyboard clicking letting her know he hadn't fallen asleep or hung up. She wasn't sure when they started doing this, staying on the phone even when they had nothing to talk about, but they had done it a few times before. They had talked on the phone and Discord many times but it was usually always with purpose, not usually this silently-enjoying-each-others-presence nonsense. Who was she kidding calling it nonsense, she enjoyed it an embarrassingly insane amount.

She repositioned so she was laying on her stomach as she finished sketching an image that was in her mind.

"Hey, you still there?" Dream asked softly.

"Yeah. Sorry, am I taking away from your sitting in silence time with George?" she joked.

Dream chuckled lightly. "Nah, you're more fun. I was just seeing if you ditched me for Karl yet."

"Nah, you're more fun," she mimed truthfully. "But I'm very focused on this drawing."

"Can I see it when you're done?"

"Don't expect too much. It looks bad."

"If you don't tell me what it is, I can't know how accurate or inaccurate it is."

"Very true..." she trailed off, holding the canvas further away to examine it all at once. She wanted the sketch to be perfect before she made permanent choices with paint. She enjoyed the serenity they maintained even when talking, voices low and delicate like they were keeping secrets but not quite whispering. "Are you almost done editing your video from the other day?"

"Sorta. I'm at the part where you and Sapnap almost died laughing because a ghast knocked George into lava and then Sapnap laughed so hard he fell into lava."

She chuckled, remembering the situation vividly. "That was so funny. The way George screams is so funny."

"Let Naomi know that," he mumbled, causing Y/n to gasp.

"Dream!" she laughed loudly and he joined.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry. It's true though."

"Disgusting!"

A distant voice sounded on the other end and she assumed it was Sapnap. "What do you want for dinner?"

Dream responded with a soft, "Nothing, I'm good."

"Are you talking to Bugsy?"

He must have responded physically because the next sound was Sapnap's very clear, much more lively voice speaking directly into the phone. "Hi, Bugsy!"

"Hi, Sapnap!"

"Can you tell Dream to eat some damn food? This man literally hasn't eaten a single thing all goddamn day."

"Dream," Y/n scolded slowly. "Please eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"I'm not showing you my painting until you eat."

A door closed on the other end and she took that as a sign that Sapnap had left.

"I don't wanna see it anyway. It's probably trash."

"Take that back!" she gasped lightly. She looked at the canvas as she grabbed the first paint color and laughed. It was only a sketch and it was already trash. "Fine, then I won't go on the trip if you don't eat in the next ten minutes."

"That's punishing yourself too though."

"Who says I want to see you?" she asked.

"I never said anything about not seeing me being the punishment."

She had been caught. "It was implied."

"Sure it was."

"It's true though. Who says I wanna see your stupid face?"

He didn't say anything, but an incoming FaceTime call lit up Y/n's phone. A FaceTime call from him.

Her smile dropped. "Clay?"

"Answer it," his voice was lower and her heart started beating faster. Was he really about to show her his face to prove a point? Reveal his biggest secret that only a few close friends knew? To her of all people? She made sure she couldn't be seen in the small window and pressed accept, the voice call ending and the FaceTime call starting.

To her surprise, what came into view wasn't his face, but the logo of the hoodie he was wearing, the simple smile of his merch taunting her. She laughed, the anxiety slowly fading away as it was replaced with a heavy feeling in her stomach. Was she disappointed? Maybe a little, but he teased her into believing she would see him.

"Oh, wow! Dream face reveal! He looks just like his icon, no way!!!"

His chest moved up and down as he laughed, not moving the camera away. "You heard it here first, guys! You've known my face all along, the logo is actually my face!"

She laughed and returned to painting, not paying any more attention to her phone since he was now also showing his ceiling, a small corner of his monitor in frame but nothing else. "I mean it though, if you don't eat, I'm going to be so mad I won't even want to be friends anymore. Or you'll die from malnourishment before we get the chance to meet."

"I doubt it. I'm just not hungry."

"Whatever."

"Oh, hey, so you met Quackity today. How was it?"

"Very scary."

"Yeah?" he asked sympathetically, urging her to explain if she wanted.

"Yeah. But it turned out okay! He didn't act any different so it was fine. It was mostly just awkward. He's also so freaking loud. You would not believe how much louder he and Karl get when they're together."

"I can imagine. Aren't they doing a stream right now or something?"

"Yeah, I think so. I don't wanna watch though, I've had enough of them for the month."

Dream laughed. "How will you deal with them together for New Years'? It'll be for like two weeks."

"Who knows if I'll actually go?"

"Wait, what?" he asked abruptly, not even bothering to hide the disappointment in his voice. His keyboard stopped clicking and she could picture him staring at his phone as if looking at her. "Of course you're going."

"Not if you don't eat food! You have, like, 3 minutes to eat something until I officially am busy doing other things whenever the trip is."

Dream groaned and clicked a few things on his computer before the image on the screen became blurry as he walked through the house, still pointing it at the ceiling. She looked away again and kept painting.

"Quackity's really funny though," she continued. "It was super awkward at first but it was fun to have someone else to help me make fun of Karl."

"Wait, Bug," Dream called out over the sound of wrappers crinkling.

"Hm?" She hummed, continuing to paint.

"Bug," his voice was much softer and he sounded nervous.

She looked at her screen and dropped the paintbrush as she focused on what she saw, grabbing her phone and holding it closer to her face so she could see, still making sure she wasn't in view. All the anxiety from the beginning of the FaceTime suddenly came back and hit her like a truck. Sitting on her screen, waiting to be seen, was Dream. His hood was up, tufts of blonde hair sticking out, and he was standing with his back towards a dark room, the dim light from his pantry making his face just visible.

He held up a cookie in front of his actual, real face. "Are you watching?"

"Y-yea... I... Yeah. I'm watching. Is that really you?"

He nodded once before shoving the cookie in his mouth. "There, I consumed food," he announced, his voice muffled by the cookie. "Now you're legally obligated to come."

"I—What? CLAY! WHAT?"

"What?" he asked innocently as he chewed, walking back to his room and still holding the phone up to show his face. His room light was on, making his face much more visible. If Y/n thought he was attractive in the harsh pantry light, he must have looked like a god in his room lighting, even as pixelated as he was due to the quality of FaceTime. He fell on his bed and Y/n could only gape at his features. He slumped against his headboard, surrounded by roughly a thousand pillows, sporting a small, shy smile as he stared at the screen. "Bug, what?"

She opened her mouth but no words came out. Needless to say, he was unbelievably handsome. Part of the speechlessness was from the shock that he showed his face out of the blue, but obviously, the majority of it was that he was pretty much the most attractive person she'd ever seen. It should be illegal for someone to look that good in a hoodie, especially when pixelated.

"Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully. "Wanna take back what you said earlier?" He bit into another cookie.

"W-what did I say earlier?" Why was she stuttering???

"You said you don't wanna see me and that I'm ugly," he teased.

She paused for too many seconds too long before finally muttering, "you arrogant son of a bitch." He laughed loudly at that.

His eyes crinkled and he threw his head back. So that's what he looks like when he wheezes, she thought to herself, pretty.

Dream shuffled his position on his bed and rested his head on one of his hands. He looked so comfy. "Why are you so quiet, weirdo?" he mumbled.

She set her phone back down and touched her cheeks with her hands and looked away for a moment, grounding herself to the real world for a second. She couldn't process her thoughts when she was staring at a man as gorgeous as Clay. "I don't know, maybe because you gave me no warning before showing me your face? Or because you failed to mention that you're incredibly hot?"

She was so glad she had looked back at her phone or else she would have missed the glorious sight of his cheeks turning bright red before he turned the camera back to his ceiling. "Oh my gosh."

"Aw cute, I made you blush."

"Shut up," he mumbled. "You threatened to not come if I didn't eat something!"

"You didn't have to—you showed me your freaking face just to prove you ate a cookie!! DREAM! I would have believed you if you just said you ate something!" she laughed breathlessly, staring at the phone now for a chance to see him again. "I was joking anyway!"

"Sure you were."

"I was."

"Well, oh well. You deserved to see me anyway."

"Oh, I deserve to see you?" She laughed. "How big is your ego?"

"You know what I meant," he groaned. "You got doxxed by Karl and you met Quackity in person. And you've clearly had a bad day because of all the hate and stuff. You've done a lot of stressful things recently and you deserved to be let in on a secret too."

He was so sweet. Like, tooth-rotting, Halloween candy stash hidden under a kid's bed, upset tummy sweet. She also couldn't get over the fact that he was a million times cuter when he was shy like he was being now, his voice soft and unsure. It contrasted vastly with the confident, loud-mouthed Dream everyone usually saw, though she liked that Dream too. She wished he could show his face for just one more second to see what he looked like shy. Probably sickeningly adorable.

This was it, wasn't it? The chance she had been waiting for to tell him her name? He just let her in on his biggest secret, now he was the one deserving to be let in.

"Y/n," she said with a confident, but soft voice.

There was a long pause. "W-what?"

"Y/n."

He understood the second time immediately. "Y/n..." he tested, the smile in his voice clear as day. "I like it."

"Yeah, well, I guess you deserved to know the secret too."

"I would have been content never knowing."

"Really?" She didn't believe him. He seemed like the type to never be satisfied, always looking for something better. Not in a greedy way, but in a motivational, goal-oriented big achiever way.

"Really," he hummed. "I already feel like you're too good to be true so I wouldn't be surprised if you weren't a real person."

It was silent as she tried to collect her thoughts.

"Bug? You okay?"

"Yeah, I... it's just a lot."

"Sorry."

"No, it's not you. Well... I don't know. I just don't know what I'm supposed to say when you say things like that," she admitted.

He paused. "I think you always have the perfect responses when I say things like that."

"What do I usually say?" She smiled shyly, pulling her hoodie up to her lips.

"You usually call me a nerd or say you can't stand me. 'Oh my gosh I cannot stand you'," he mimicked before laughing.

"What? How is that the perfect response to you saying you can't believe I'm real?"

He hummed and she could practically hear him shrugging. "Because it's a classic Bug response. It's a hundred perfect you. So yeah, it's perfect."

She was silent, trying to compose herself before she exploded.

"By the way, check Twitter."

"Why, are you bragging about me calling you hot?" she teased, hoping to make him blush like she had earlier. It worked.

"Oh my gosh, no. Just look."

She clicked her home button and navigated to the app, her feed instantly flooding with the same similar messages.

"Oh, my gosh," she muttered, her fingers flying away as she typed out her own tweet in response to the love.

Dream chuckled from the other end and when she asked him why, he vaguely said that George texted him but didn't explain further.

"Um, I have to go," she said mournfully. "Karl and Quackity are coming over again."

"Booooo," he pouted.

"Sorry, you aren't the only man in my life," she teased before instantly regretting her choice of words. Too flirty, Y/n, she thought to herself.

"Hm, shame. Am I at least at the top of the list?"

She bit her lips, wanting desperately to repeat what she had told him on their Minecraft date. In the end, she gave in. "I always mean what I say too," she started. "You're my main bitch, baby."

Dream made some sort of sound, a mix of a scoff and a whine but Y/n didn't comment on it, just glowing with heat in her cheeks.

"Leave before I don't let you," he said softly and the heat only grew.

"Goodnight, Dream," she pressed, the tone in her voice letting him know he was being a tease. "Thanks for... thanks for your tweet. And for everything you said earlier."

"Of course. Sorry that you have to see those kinds of things a lot."

"It's okay when I have people like you."

"People like me? What does that mean?"

"Just.... people like you." Cute, sweet, kind, genuine people who make her heart flutter.

She could hear his smile in his words and she figured he knew the unspoken words in her thoughts, the ones she was saying without saying. "Okay. Goodnight, Y/n."

"Goodnight."

**********

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boxofbadaddiction · 4 years ago

Text

The Trouble With Parenthood

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW. Swearing. Small moment of Daddy Kink. Sexual References and Depictions of Sex.

Requested

Fred and Y/n's relationship had always involved a very healthy sex life. Like...very healthy, okay they couldn't keep their hands off each other. It'd been like that when they'd begun dating and continued through their marriage - if anything it'd gotten worse once they'd put that ring on one another's finger.

So as you could imagine, an abrupt stopper in their regular love making had left the couple feeling rather...frustrated.

This 'stopper's name was Cassidy. 'Cassi' for short.

As it is for every parent, the day she were born had been the happiest day of Fred and Y/ns life. She was the perfect daughter from the moment she'd been born. Happy, healthy and not at all fussy. However, recently she had become quite clingy.

Not that it had bothered her parents. Honestly, they'd found it endearing how much she wanted to spend time with them...in the beginning anyway. But it is safe to say that the couple were in desperate need of some "Mummy and Daddy Time." Because, as Fred so delicately put it; his 'balls have never been so blue'. A comment which would have been much more amusing to y/n if she were not so pent up herself.

Though this sexless patch of their relationship was not due to their lack of trying mind you.

They'd seemingly tried everything, for a moment to themselves. But these days with the small issue of 'monsters in the closet', Cassi had settled herself in bed between her parents to sleep most nights, so that ruled out sex before bed. Of course there was always fleeting moments in the bathroom...until Cassi learned how to reach the door handles. Now no room was safe from intrusions.

Feeling rather adventurous y/n had even set up a long lunch at work one day with the intent on surprising Fred at the shop. It was nearly a success...until an unsuspecting George wandered into the otherwise occupied back Office. He was mortified to say the least.

They'd tried setting up a 'date night' arrangement; but after Fred mistakenly let slip his current predicament to George, and their little incident at work, they were shit out of luck for a babysitter as his brother found the whole situation were just 'too fucking funny'.

Which brings us to tonight.

Y/n trudged into her and Freds bedroom after a very long day at work and an extra long goodnight to their daughter down the hall - which involved more than the usual amount of bedtime stories being shared.

Stepping through the door she were met with the very tired body of Fred sprawled across their bed. She couldn't help but chuckle at the sight; he were laid with one arm slung across his eyes, as the other rested on his stomach and one knee were raised - swaying lazily in place.

Closing the door behind her y/n rest her weight back against the hardwood letting out a heavy breath.

"Is she down?" Fred asked at the sound of her entering the room. "Mmm, finally." She replied, pushing her body from the door she began to ready herself for bed, mentally crossing her fingers, hopeful for some decent rest tonight.

She kicked off her shoes and let her hair loose from it's tie before stripping to just her knickers and finding one of Freds old shirts, she had taken to sleeping in, and throwing it on.

"Leave the shirt off" Freds voice came as a tired groan from his place on the bed. His words caused y/n to turn her head, seeing his arm now rested slightly higher on his forehead as he watched her. He was grinning, tongue pressing against his cheek, clearly enjoying the view.

Y/n licked her lips, pulling her bottom lip through her teeth as his stare burned hot on her skin. She raised a teasing brow as she slowly began to glide a hand up her side and over the soft fabric of the t-shirt she'd thrown on. Fingers delicately caressed the space between her breasts until a single finger came to lazily play with the shirts collar. Tugging just enough to expose the tops of her cleavage. Running her finger slowly back and forth across the collars seam she approached the bedside.

The arm Fred had slung across his face moved, fingers furrowing through his fiery locks, to prop his head further on the pillow for a better view of the stunning woman before him. He smirked, inhaling deeply, in amusement; thoroughly enjoying her little show for him.

"Don't go teasing me, love. Its been a long few weeks." His tone was firm but playful, the same one that never failed to turn y/ns knees weak and have her thighs rubbing together. Tonight was no different. If anything it were worse from their lack of intimacy as of late.

Smiling sweetly in place beside the mattress she ran both hands up from her knees, along her exposed thighs to lift the shirts sides. Fred shifted in place, supporting himself onto his elbow his eyes hungrily traced her fingers movements as they hooked below the waistband of her underwear and pulled them off.

Tauntingly she dangled the lace garment from her forefinger before throwing it at his chest playfully.

Unable to restrain himself a moment longer he simultaneously discarded her panties to the opposite side of the room and with his other hand grasped her hip, roughly pulling her onto the bed below him. He kissed her passionately as a hand raked up the inside of her thigh, ghosting over the skin to rest on her waist.

Y/n smiled into the kiss; both hands tangling in his hair as she shifted beneath him so he were resting comfortably between her legs. As the tension began to build y/n aided Fred in shedding layers of his clothing; left in his singlet and briefs. His erection felt pressing against her core through the thin material. Y/ns hand came down to eagerly palm at his bulge when-

"DAAADDYYYY!" Cassi's voice called beggingly from her room.

Fred groaned in frustration, head falling to the crook of his wife's neck as he mumbled something inaudibly, though it sounded undoubtedly along the lines of 'For Merlin's sake, not now'.

"Go to bed, Baby!" He yelled over his shoulder, "Daddy's busy." He spoke the last words to y/n in a lustful tone. Admiring her flustered appearance, he moved to kiss her again as-

"DAAADDYYY!!"

"Godrick, what'd I do to deserve this?" He grumbled causing y/n to giggle. "Go to her." She nudged, "I'll still be here when you get back." Fred sat back onto his knees, pointing a stern finger as he spoke "Don't fall asleep." "I won't." Y/n replied as he got off the bed and made his way to the door.

"Can't guarantee I won't start without you though."

Fred turned back, watching from just outside the door as a wicked grin settled across her features. "Don't you dare." He warned taking a step back toward the room.

Y/n raised her brow; challenging his dominance. One hand delicately played with her exposed collar bone as her other crept down her body, disappearing between her thighs.

Her back arched as she ran fingers through her slick folds, a soft moan filling the room. Fred made another move back towards the bedroom, hand clutching the door frame as he-

"DADDY!!!" Another call from their daughter. He peered back down the hall, eyeing her bedroom door which were slightly ajar. "Daddy?" Y/n spoke in a low sultry tone, deliberately trying to rile him up.

Fred frustratidly ran a hand over his eyes, facing quite the personal dilemma. Groaning loudly he shook his head, seemingly shaking the sense and strength into himself as he marched down the hallway in a huff. Y/n was unable to restrain the laughter that erupted from her chest at his reaction.

While Fred tended to their daughter y/n took the moment to get comfortable. Lighting a candle and fluffing the pillows below her head to find the best position for when her husband returns in any second...

Any minute now. He's probably just reading her a quick story to get her settled.

Maybe she should just start without him?

That was the last thought to cross her mind before she found herself waking from a sleep she hadn't meant to fall into. Fred had laid down beside her. "Oh, so you are coming back to bed?" Y/n asked sarcastically, voice groggy. "Mmm. Told you not to fall asleep." He quipped, tucking himself in next to her side. One arm snuck beneath her shoulder blades, pulling her into him, as the other wrapped around her waist. "I wouldn't have, had you'd been back sooner." Y/n nestled in against his chest as she felt him place a kiss to her head.

"Had to read her a story. Then one turned to two; two to three and soon enough I realised I'd been conned by a 4 year old. She's a brat...just like her Mother." The couple chuckled before falling quickly off to sleep.

Y/n was the first to wake the next morning. Smiling giddily at the disheveled appearance of her partner as well as the similar position of her daughter down the hall, she decided to ready breakfast as the two slept.

She were half way through her pancake batter when Fred's strong arms wrapped her in a tight embrace. His hands lightly squeezed at her sides as he kissed the exposed skin of her neck.

"Morning" he mumbled against her skin. "Smells good."

"I woke up with such a craving so just thought I'd start cooking, while you two obviously decided you'd sleep all day." She chuckled to which Fred hummed in response. "I wasn't talking about the food."

Reaching one arm past hers Fred switched off the stove and move the pan from its burner. "Hey! What are yo-"

Y/n didn't have a chance to finish her sentence as she was quickly spun to face her lover. Pushed flush into the cold counter as his lips connected with hers. She moaned contently into the kiss as she felt his hands run below her ass and she was then hoisted onto the counter top beside the stove.

"I'm not hungry for that." His expression was stern and his voice low. Roughly pulling her legs apart his hands hooked the underside of her knees, pulling to bring her to the edge of the bench.

Her lips were brought back to his as a hand grasped the nape of her neck and he stepped between her legs which wrapped eagerly around his waist.

Their movements were passionate and quickly becoming more heated; soon finding themselves fucking roughly on the kitchen bench their only thoughts set on each other.

With every hard thrust from Fred y/ns head and shoulders were being pushed against the cabinetry, whilst Fred buried his head in her neck biting softly on the bare skin to keep himself relatively quiet.

"God, Fred I'm close." Y/n moaned.

A groan came deep from within Fred's throat in response which sent chills through his lovers body. He pulled back and brought a hand to grasp her chin kissing her. His thrusts slowed as he relished in the feeling of her tongue against his as-

"Mummy?" a tired voice spoke from the other side of the room. "Fuck!" Fred breathed through gritted teeth as he pulled out and covered himself. Y/n jumped down from the bench flattening the shirts ends to cover herself as well. "Yeah, Sweetie?" She asked hurriedly trying to sound as normal as possible. "What are you doing?" "Nothing baby, Daddy and I are just cooking breakfast." She eyed Fred somewhat panicked as he leant over the island bench of their flat, in attempt to hide a certain problem- "ah, That's right." He nodded a hand coming over his mouth to restrain the shocked laughter threatening to spill out.

"Why were you on the bench? You told me we weren't allowed to sit on the bench."

"That's right, I'm sorry baby I shouldn't have been up there. Won't happen again."

Fred's head snapped over his shoulder to peer at y/n with furrowed brows, "it won't?" He questioned. He'd been quite enjoying their little indiscretion until the unexpected appearance of their daughter, he would gladly throw her atop the counter again in a heartbeat.

Y/ns eyes widen, lips forming a thin line in a statement which helped realisation dawn on her partner. "Oh, yep. Won't happen again." He smiled innocently to Cassi. "Princess, why don't you go grab the mail from the front then we can start breakfast." He winked as she excitedly skipped to the front door.

He looked back to his wife who was rubbing forcibly at her eyes. Chuckling as he placed both hands to her hips, a guesture which brought her attention back to him. "God, she's going to be traumatised when she's older if she ever realises." "Pay back for being a cock block." Fred laughed as Y/n slapped him with the spatula she'd been using earlier.

"Sad thing is; that's the closest we've gotten in weeks to...ya know." "Not close enough." Fred grumbled placing a quick kiss to her lips. "Let's eat. I'm starving."

Y/n let out a sharp breath, watching as she noticed Cassi bound into the room and sit up patiently at the table, mail placed neatly in front of her as she traced the lettering on the envelopes.

"I'm not hungry for that." Y/n whispered into Fred's ear, looking back up to him with big eyes before an evil smile came across her face and she reached out to palm him gently.

Fred's head fell back and he inhaled sharply, clenching his jaw before letting out a heavy breath. Until his own sly grin crept across his lips and he was smiling back down to his wife.

"Hey, Princess." He called over his shoulder, not breaking eye contact with Y/n "What do you say about a sleep over at Grandma and Grandpa's tonight?"

#fred weasley x reader #Fred weasley smut #Fred weasley #Harry potter fanfiction #Fred weasley fanfiction

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unproduciblesmackdown · 2 years ago

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fr brian is so funny for his whole deal being like remarkable nervousness & that he ends up dragged along with the two jokes pranks horror drama menaces that are brooke & zeke who are ricocheting around while brian is head in hands bringing the “pleeease let this be a normal field trip.” and of course shoutout to how every character has their own unbroken chaos going on, brooke & zeke especially, not only their Both pulling antics & liking to joke around & indulge in horror but like, that they do also have this constant siblingesque tendency in their dynamic to like on a dime go into [throwing a notebook at the other’s head flipping them off kicking biting] teasing to exasperated mode for a whole ten seconds before then both immediately being back on task, regular mode, like And Anyways. & brian naturally does not jump right into this sort of rapport, but shoutout to his like natural beleagueredness allowing him to still occupy a niche here & be outright going Oh No with brooke about zeke Getting A Zeke Idea. everyone’s trading off in being the most elevated person in any given moment is fun, this is just How It Is, and i really enjoy again how scenes operate where like, again, everyone has their own thread of chaos consistently winding (or unraveling. whichever you want) and the way the writing jumps between these simultaneous & overlapping goings on and the characters naturally do as well is lively & humorous. i also love this scene where brooke & zeke are both ruminating hard but somewhat separately despite having an exchange, while brian enters just fully preoccupied with the trial of having paint on himself & his just openly inserting himself into this exchange by being like do you think it’s permanent :( and that despite zeke likewise being so preoccupied as to miss an entire remark of brooke’s or else simply fail to give any response indicating otherwise, he happens to immediately reply to brian’s paint tragedy on its terms. that tina then comes by and has half her understudy buddy moment (she also actually calls brooke in another scene) with some pointed critical remarks towards brooke, only for brian to Also just totally in stride ask her about the paint, to which she also gives a seemingly earnest & matter of fact response about it lmao. and brian just being so absolutely beset by things like getting paint on himself, and the way the books are written with the vivacious characters & inherent comedic type framework alongside the horror and the humorous voice of the actual author coming through in addition to the pov narration involving bonus funny asides about everything all really gets me, and brian being a ghost also and knowing it and being so down to earth like, this play sabotage mystery is also entirely relevant to him, all the more so as the person who exists for this role very literally, and he’s just totally consumed by being bothered by getting paint on himself and worrying about it. it keeps Especially making me laugh like getting a bit teared up about it, but i think the entire book is Like That in both the very dry inherent humor and how these tiny moments of idiosyncratic flair that Could be stripped out are not, and there’s all these little momentary two line aside exchanges or internal remarks that add some damn texture and give everyone both more Character and Presence and sort of unfiltered “i’m like eleven”ness than if everyone was always sitting quietly while the Important part of a scene unfolds uninterrupted, but instead everyone can both be very absorbed with different things while also being able to spontaneously bounce off of someone else’s preoccupation for a moment. and things are just fun and funny. and i suspect that say, having been a theatre & horror appreciating oft intensely preoccupied but also bound to spontaneously ricochet off of goings on kid, i enjoy everyone bringing that energy here lmao. but i also enjoyed goosebumps books as a kid & i had a whole kick out of reading this one now, in a straightforward way even though i hardly could have the straightforward [i’m reading this as an elementary schooler] style of experience. you go r.l. stine. i could not give a single direct quote from the “the ghost next door” book but i’m already humored by the entire back and forth that is the narrator again befriending this new guy but she suspects something’s up with him such as that he might be the ghost next door, while he keeps being all the more suspicious in turn when she’s most suspicious, just this back and forth of it. and it’s again all the funnier that in fact the narrator is the ghost, unknowingly this time. and there’s also like this shadow self who keeps lurking ominously & perhaps tries to kill the friend to take his place in the living world or something and i remember that in fact coming across as ominous and intense when eleven. but it’s also intense anyways b/c our narrator unknownst to herself and thus us did in fact die partway through. like, brian only tried to take someone’s place in a living world theatrical production, at least, however he has to keep falling to his doom, sorry man. he’s fine though i guess. and in the meantime he was like oh my godddd paint on my clothes oh my god why do i let you two drag me into scary situations i don’t like horror we’re gonna get in trouble stop talking about ghosts aaaagh. and then he gamely goes along anyways despite needing to complain, thank you hero. bolstering everyone else’s nerves b/c they’re trying to cheer you up

#goosebumps the musical #goosebumps the actual book though but i never read this one as a kid #the odd experience again of like #idk maybe at first had parents disapproving of Horror For Kids. for some reason i assumed i wasn't Allowed to check them out via library too #but then at some point we just owned a bunch ig acquired handily from somewhere. still don't remember getting any from the library but mayve #that's may have. i ran out of room....never read them comprehensively hence never having read this one. didn't see the show ever either #and i sure recall them to varying degrees....like sure i stared at the cover for that one book but did i ever actually read it? it's a Maybe

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autumnslance · 3 years ago

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About Plagiarism

I left a long, planned essay on Twitter tonight. I will copy the meat of it here for y’all, as recently a friend was copied (a rarer ship in the fandom, so very noticeable by the writer and their regular beta reader) and it seems we need a Talk, kids. Links and screenshots and my rambling underway.

------

Apparently we need to discuss what is and isn’t plagiarism. Especially in FanFic where we're interacting with the same characters, settings, ideas. Let’s start with the dictionary and continue the thread from there (I like the word origin/history personally):

Definition of plagiarize

transitive verb : to steal and pass off (the ideas or words of another) as one's own : use (another's production) without crediting the source

intransitive verb : to commit literary theft : present as new and original an idea or product derived from an existing source

The Kidnapping Roots of Plagiarize

If schools wish to impress upon their students how serious an offense plagiarism is, they might start with an explanation of the word’s history. Plagiarize (and plagiarism) comes from the Latin plagiarius “kidnapper.” This word, derived from the Latin plaga (“a net used by hunters to catch game”), extended its meaning in Latin to include a person who stole the words, rather than the children, of another. When plagiarius first entered English in the form plagiary, it kept its original reference to kidnapping, a sense that is now quite obsolete.

“Ideas” is fuzzy in the Merriam-Webster definition. There are story archetypes that exist in many forms. Joseph Campbell’s Monomyth/Hero's Journey outlines many famous stories. And it's popular to say that “Avatar” is “Dances with Wolves” is “Pocahontas” is “The Last Samurai” etc.

But note how while those films have similar plotlines--”Military Guy falls for Native woman, learns to appreciate her Culture, stands up to Evil Bosses”--none of them execute those ideas in the same way. Sully’s story is different from Dunbar’s not just cuz one’s a Science Fiction epic and the other a Western. Disney's “Pocahontas” Very Loosely takes history and uses the same story beats. The Last Samurai uses the Meiji era Westernization. Same ideas, different executions, even beyond settings.

None of these are plagiarizing each other though the ideas are similar. They’re told in their own ways, own language; both in the genres they belong to (Western, Pseudo-History, SciFi, Animated) and how characters interact with each other and settings. Original dialogues (variable quality).

We also see this in books as similar novel plots get published in waves so we end up with bunches of post-apocalypse teen revolutionaries or various vampires or lots of young wizard stories all at once. Sometimes ideas just happen like this; multiple discovery, simultaneous invention, concurrent inspiration, cognitive emergence are all phrases I’ve seen for it. So it happens in original content as well, and legality gets fuzzy (Also why you don't send authors your fanfic ideas).

In existing properties, this gets trickier but even “Elementary”’s Holmes and Watson are nothing like the BBC’s “Sherlock” characters. Who are nothing like other versions of the Detective and his Doctor pal over the decades in various media properties.

FanFic's in a similar position where like Sherlock Holmes we play with the same characters, setting, and storyarcs but give our own spin to them. People can and will have similar ideas about plots. Trick is to use your own words. Take the characters and make the story your own.

I have a good example courtesy of @raelly-writing. We both ship Wolcred. We both wrote soft post-Paglth’an scenes with Thancred and our WoLs. Both features the couples helping each other undress, examining injuries, bathing, bantering. My fic was written soon after 5.5 part 1 came out. Dara’s is much more recent. Yet at no point reading hers did I feel she was copying my words. The PoVs differ. Our characters focus on different things. Mine has a mini-arc concerning the Nutkin.

The links for comparison’s sake (and maybe leave kudos/comments if so inclined please and thanks). Note while the scenes are very similar no phrases are written in the same way. Mine: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25417882/chapters/76059467 Dara’s: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26067565/chapters/81832915

Dara and I both hang out in certain Discords and I know conversations about Thancred and WoL caring for each other post-battle has come up in those channels and we've both participated. It’s a stock FanFic scene to boot. Cuz it's soft and feels warm and snuggly.

I HAVE been copied before, back in WoW. My case is pretty clear cut so here are the images of my old RP Haven profile (1st, old RP website) and the plagiarist’s RSP (2nd, an in game mod to share descriptions and basic info).

This was a decade ago on Shadow Council and I think the character deleted so any Availa’s in WoW now aren’t the same person. I left the names to point out what changed. Just the names and a word or 2 to make sense for the class changes as well. Otherwise lifted directly from my RP profile.

The funny part is how the person got caught. Literally walked into our weekly RP Guild meeting that I was running and asked to join. Folks noticed right away the similar backstory; after all there may have been more Outland-born Azerothians. My initial excitement at a character I could weave into our story turned to gut-twisting rage and grief as I recognized my own exact words though. Words I’d carefully crafted and constantly iterated on to improve over time (before and after this incident, until the site died).

When caught they tried to claim their significant other had leveled the character for them and made up the backstory based on Skyrim. If you know WoW’s Outland story and Skyrim’s plot you know how ridiculous that is. Also tried to lie about other drama I knew about thanks to roommate's characters but hey. I had to be blunt that I’d shared the info with Haven mods and other guild officers Alliance and Horde. That we would not “laugh about this” one day though lucky this was “just” RP not original or academic work. Cuz if it'd been monetized or academic I would've raked them through the coals.

I felt violated. Hurt. Had anxiety attacks. They took MY WORDS and tried to claim them as theirs. Have another character born in Outland trained by Draenei; Awesome! Our characters have an instant connect in similarities and differences of that experience. Don’t steal my characters wholesale!

Then the audacity of trying to come into my guild as if no one would notice. ShC wasn’t a large server by then, still active but not nearly Wyrmrest Accord or Moon Guard big. My character was well known due to my writing and RP. Speaking of how easy it is to get caught in specific spaces...A case of a self-published novelist getting noticed for plagiarizing fanfic was discovered recently (explicit erotica examples through the thread).

One way they got noticed was how much content they put out in only a year, lifted from fandom. The examples in Kokom’s threads show how the material was altered but still recognizable. In some cases, just the names are changed as in my experience. In other passages more has changed but you can still see the bones of the original fic poking through in the descriptions and character interactions, even with adjustments made.

Similar ideas happen. Similar plots exist. Same 'ships with friends are fun! In FanFic we’re working with the same material. It’s possible to write a similar scene differently. To make that scene and characters your own. All we’re asking is not to copy others' words. Others' characters. Others' specific phrases and descriptions used to bring those words, those characters, to life. Use your own. In the end you’ll be happier.

I get wanting to have what the perceived “popular people” have. I get seeing concepts others succeed with and wanting some of that too. We all get a bit jealous now and then for various reasons. Sometimes we don't even realize it, consciously. But do it in your own way. Maybe check to see if you’re getting a bit too close to the “inspiration” you admired, maybe reread often. Don’t hurt your fellow creatives. If you do and get caught don’t try to double down. Have the grace to be abashed at least and work to do better. Eventually you WILL get caught. All it takes is once to throw all else you've done into question. Ao3 doesn’t take kindly to plagiarists. Nor do a lot of fan communities focused on writing and RP. Getting back that trust is hard. The internet doesn’t forget easily, for good or ill.

#writing #blogging #about me #social media #plagiarism #fanfiction #Ao3

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ainsley-f · 3 years ago

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Pride / The Maw

Day 13, DWC 2021

CW: Death, Scenes of a medical nature

She had only heard of the Maw and it’s horrors.

Where life after true death was only speculated on before, it was now given a definite answer since the very gates of the afterlife opened up above them.

As citizens of Azeroth themselves began to traverse into its domain, the stories began pouring in, too. Turns out the afterlife is much like regular life, for the most part.

Except the Maw.

Think of the most torturous kind of hell. A place where souls go for eternal torment, consumed by rage, fear, and pain—pain so unbearable and inescapable, and torture so unimaginable that the stories themselves could mollify even the worst of criminals.

Apparently it was worse.

Then more information started pouring in. Death itself was broken. Souls had no chance to find eternal rest where they truly belonged, instead being sent straight to the depths of the Maw. No judgment— souls good and bad being subject to torture they didn’t deserve.

As soon as the medical network caught wind of this, their jobs became a lot harder. Saving lives was tough to begin with, but now, knowing where these souls would end up if they didn’t succeed?

The pressure was enough to see even the most hardened of doctors crumble.

It was all Ainsley could think of as the loud resonance of the heart monitor echoed throughout the room, the screen glowing with irregularities, and her patient laying unresponsive. Hovering over her them, hands clasped together over their chest, glowing with the Light and pumping down rhythmically, all she could think of was the eternal darkness of the Maw.

Her eyes flitted to the shaman across from her, their hands charged with electric energy, and waiting for their signal.

“Ready.”

“Clear!”

As the shaman placed their hands over the patient’s chest, a quick burst of energy jolted the body. The monitor continued with no change.

“Increase,” she ordered. Ainsley resumed her position, continuing with chest compressions.

Please, you do not deserve to go there.

Her patient was kind, and funny. They were a dock worker that worked at Tradewinds Market. They had a wife. Two kids. They were a happy family.

You cannot go, please.

“Ready,” the shaman indicated.

“Clear.”

Another jolt. Another moment of nothing. No sign of life sparked from the body. The sound emanating from the monitor became one long, continuous beep.

“Asystole.”

“Come on, come on!” Ainsley urged under her breath, glancing over to the nurse beside her. “Push epi.”

Sweat lined her brow as she continued to plead internally, keeping a steady rhythm with her compressions. She could feel her arms starting to get weaker and weaker.

Nothing. Time felt like it had simultaneously stopped and was rushing forward too fast. Desperation licked at the room.

“Push another milligram of epi. Take over compressions,” the priestess ordered.

As another nurse took over chest compressions and another dose of medication was given, Ainsley stood over the patient, placing her hands gently over the body and allowing divine energy to radiate out and surround it. She closed her eyes and a prayer began to flow out of her lips, hushed and quick.

The Light was a kind new magic that the Kul Tirans had to get used to with the increase of mainlander priests. The miracles it afforded couldn’t be denied, and it was all Ainsley could do but hope that today they were afforded one of those very miracles.

“Light, grant them the strength to push though. Flow life through their body once more. Give them a fighting chance. Grant them your grace.”

As the holy energy began to grow stronger, Ainsley felt her body being drained and exhaustion began to seep in. She used all her power to hold on. She had to.

Seconds.

…Seconds.

…Another minute.

It had been too long.

Nothing. Only cold emptiness as the body remained unresponsive and the flatline continued. It had already been a few minutes, and the energy in the room began to dim.

Her eyes opened, and she shared a grief-stricken look with the rest of her code team. Her jaw clenched as the glow of the Light faded slowly.

“Time of death. 8:45PM.”

There was a moment of stillness before Ainsley moved aside to allow the post-cardiac arrest process to begin. Tossing her gloves out, she took another moment to take a few deep breaths.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the Maw.

Whatever was happening in the Shadowlands, she simply hoped would resolve soon. Because as she looked back to her patient’s lifeless body, all she could imagine was endless pain, rage, and fear.

And she hoped that one day their soul would find peace somehow.

@daily-writing-challenge

#dwc2021 #day132021 #ainsley-f #watch me stumble through medical scenes #forgive any inaccuracies #writing

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theseerasures · 4 years ago

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They try to smooth over things after everything melts, but explaining to the (mostly indifferent) subjects that their new queen has magical powers and had run away and now come back and that Arendelle was opening its borders after almost fifteen years of isolation is difficult work. Anna looks tired and the boy with her (Kristoff, Elsa remembers vaguely) looks tired, and Elsa feels tiredness clinging to her bones, so after a while she motions for Kai to take over and make their exit. (3)

As usual, Sven only gets a few steps up onto the crystalline staircase before his hooves slide him right back down.

“A few more weeks, buddy,” Kristoff says consolingly as he eases the grumbling reindeer back down to less slippery territory, “You’ll get your winter feet in no time.”

“I told you we should have packed his snowshoes,” Anna grouses, already halfway up herself, “But nooooo, it was all we don’t have time, Anna and it’s not even cold yet, Anna, and we’re going to the Forest and not the North Mountain, what are the odds–whoa!”

Elsa grabs her hand as she threatens to fall backward. “You don’t have to go up.”

“You don’t have to go up,” Anna fires back immediately, and then flushes a little at Elsa’s raised eyebrow. “I mean–obviously you have to go up, that’s the whole point of coming here. I only–”

“It’s okay,” Elsa reassures hastily, not bothering to let go and continuing to steady Anna as they make their way up to the Ice Palace’s main doors. “I know what you meant.”

It’s true; they could have gone back to Arendelle first and rested up before coming back here. But she needs to make this right, and she can, so why put it off? The sooner everyone’s restored and and back to normal, the better.

Olaf’s waiting for them when they finally get to the top. He looks uncharacteristically serious, but Elsa can understand why.

No sounds emerge from within the palace walls; everything is eerily silent.

“Should we…knock?” Olaf asks hesitantly.

“No need,” Elsa says, but she falters suddenly when she moves to push the doors open. When was the last time they were all here together? Kristoff makes pretty regular visits on the way to and from ice harvesting. She and Anna try to drop by when they have time, and of course Olaf tags along with any and all of them whenever he wants. But the last time they were all here at the same time might have been…

We were so close. We can be like that again.

Elsa brushes it aside. A memory from the ice, nothing more. It’s silly to dwell on all that now, when they’re coming back from another successful adventure. They won. They won again, and what they lost, she can easily bring back.

She’s here for a reason, and the sooner she finishes, the sooner everything can be finished. They can go back to their normal lives.

The door opens noiselessly at her push, and inside–

Anna gasps as Kristoff simultaneously bites out an explosive curse. Elsa barely registers either, too busy staring horrified at the countless piles of snow littered on the palace floor. It had been one thing to know what must have happened, or even feel it from the sudden hollow in her mind when she’d come back, but to see it all, here…

She always forgets how many of them there are, when she’s away. She always forgets how many she made, the number of lives tethered to hers.

“Elsa?” Anna’s concerned face looks blurry. “You don’t have to do this right now. We can–”

“I’m fine,” Elsa replies immediately, blinking hard so that her vision clears.

“You don’t look fine.” This time, Anna’s jaw sets when Elsa raises her eyebrow. “Well, you don’t! You’re all pale and your arm is busted and you have bruises everywhere and you have to be exhausted because I’m exhausted, and I didn’t even–”

She turns away abruptly, but not before Elsa catches that her eyes are suddenly wet.

Die. That’s what Anna had been about to say. Experimentally, Elsa brushes her fingertips with the pad of her thumb, feeling the sensation of soft flesh instead of slippery, hardening rime. She had died. Anna’s right to be upset–she has every right.

But she’s back now; that’s the important thing. Elsa reaches out to her sister, tipping Anna’s face gently upward so they can make eye contact. “I can do this,” she says firmly.

Anna sucks in a loud, noisy breath, and then nods. “Just don’t wear yourself out. Take breaks, or–or something.”

Kristoff clears his throat. “Can we…um. Help, in some way? I mean, some of them–” He winces. “Some of the piles kind of. Spilled into each other? What if we separate them, make it easier for you to…”

“No, it’s okay,” Elsa says, when it’s clear he’s not going to finish. There’s no confusing the snowgies for her. They might have been made accidentally, but her magic knows every flake that makes up their being. “I got it.”

She closes her eyes and concentrates. Feels the magic coursing through her, lifting the snow piles up from the floor. Feels their lives return and coalesce with the memory of all that had happened on the day they were born: the ecstasy of eating ice cream cake, the playful mischief of running across town, the dizzying joy of spending a day with Anna…

“Slush!” Elsa hears Olaf exclaim. “Oh, welcome back! And Sludge and Slide and Ansel and Flurry and Fridge and Powder and…”

Everyone back to normal. Not a snowflake out of place.

Elsa smiles. She opens her eyes–

And the world immediately tilts on its axis.

“Elsa?” she hears Anna say as her knees buckle and she sinks ungracefully to the floor, “Elsa!”

She’s never going to let me live this down, Elsa thinks, and then she passes out.

Heh, she thinks as she comes to again. Live this down. Live. See, because she–

“I’m sorry, is this funny?” A shrill voice demands from above.

Elsa opens her eyes to meet Anna’s outraged glare. “It’s not,” she says hastily. “Sorry. Are they all back? Is everyone okay?”

Anna stares blankly at her for a second, then crosses her arms. “Nope. Ansel has two heads now.”

“What?” She bolts upright, just barely avoiding a headlong collision with Kristoff, who’d also been peering down at her in concern. “How–”

Ansel grins up at her, very much still one-headed and bouncing on his little feet. “Oh, ha ha,” Elsa says sarcastically before moving to stand. “Okay. I think Marshmallow is–”

“Nope,” Anna says again as Kristoff firmly pushes Elsa right back down to the ice floor. “You’re gonna sit and rest for at least fifteen more minutes, then you can go fix Marshmallow.”

“Anna, I’m–”

“If you say you’re fine again I’m gonna clobber you with a stalactite. And I’ll make you replace it,” The mulish expression on Anna’s face falters, just a little. “Can you just–for me. Please?”

There’s no way to say no. “Alright,” Elsa says. “Okay. Fifteen minutes.”

Another hard, searching look, and then Anna nods. “I’m gonna go see what Olaf’s up to. Kristoff, you can keep an eye on her, right?”

“Sure thing.”

“I’m not a child,” Elsa protests at the same time.

Her sister doesn’t even bother with a response, so she just slumps back into a more comfortable sitting position, grumbling.

“There, there,” Kristoff says perfunctorily. “Is the whole hair-in-your-eyes thing a required part of being a spirit?”

“I was trying to make it dry faster,” Elsa grouses, passing him a hair tie. She feels him getting to work immediately; first combing through the tangles, then moving into the braid. He doesn’t seem inclined to chat, so she stays silent too, trying to relax.

It’s been a while since she’s had time to stop and think. Even after all the excitement of the dam’s fall, racing back to Arendelle, racing back to the Forest, there had been news to bring, plans to discuss, apologies to make: a nonstop whirlwind of discussion and movement. This is the first time she’s been still in hours, the first time the world has been quiet, just the sound of breathing and the cold all around, everything in sight an icy blue…

“Elsa?” Kristoff’s hands have stilled.

She flinches, feeling sick all of a sudden–something about the blue hurts her eyes. That hadn’t always been true, had it? She’d built this place, but now she can barely stand to look; something about the color reminds her of–

Dive down deep into her sound…

“Here.” Something heavy falls across her shoulders.

Elsa blinks. It’s Kristoff’s big coat–the one he takes in case he gets caught outside in a storm. “I’m not cold.” She knows what cold feels like, now.

“It’s good to have pockets. And here…” He sticks his hand into one of the pockets. “You should eat something.”

“I can’t eat that,” Elsa protests. He’s offering her one of his emergency ration bars, and she’s heard him complain enough about Oaken’s extortionate prices for them. “Don’t they cost a fortune?”

“I’ll put it on the bill.” He rolls his eyes when she continues to hesitate. “Elsa. Just eat it, okay?”

The thought of food makes her queasier, so she plans to just take a few bites for the sake of politeness–but then the whole thing disappears down her stomach, embarrassingly quickly. “I…guess it has been a while. Thanks, Kristoff–I needed that.”

“You need a vacation,” Kristoff says, “Or at least a nap.”

She doesn’t want to think about sleeping right now, if just staying still makes her stomach plummet off a cliff. “Has it been fifteen minutes?”

“Maybe? Look, Elsa–”

“Thanks for the food,” Elsa repeats, getting up. She keeps the coat on; it does feel nice, even if it can’t make her warm. “I’m okay to go now.”

“Elsa…”

“I’ll nap when I’m done, I promise.” Promise me we do this together. She climbs out the staircase alone. Leans a little against the railing; everything feels spindly, like she’s on marionette strings.

The sight at the top of the steps brings her up short. Marshmallow is an enormous mound of ice and snow near the balcony doors. Had he climbed up to bellow for help in his last moments? Or had he just wanted to return, because here is where…here is…

I know we can figure this out together!

Stop. She slams that memory shut. Get it together.

Still, Elsa finds herself moving slowly, as if taking in the room for the first time. She’d done her best to fix it up after the Thaw, but it’s never been quite the same. If she looks carefully she can still see some faint scoring on the walls from the ice blasts and fired crossbow bolts, and the chandelier…

She’d never had the heart to replace it. It had been a needless extravagance in the first place; she should have known better.

Don’t be the monster they fear you are!

Enough philosophizing. Elsa closes her eyes and gets to work. She sinks into the emotions she’d felt that day: the exhilaration of the build, of cutting loose, letting herself be free for the first time…but there’s an odd resistance to the snow here, like her magic is reluctant against itself. Then again: Marshmallow is her largest creation to date, so perhaps that’s only natural; she pulls a little harder, sensing the snow rise and converge as she lets the memories wash over her–

I’m not leaving without you, Elsa!

The icy pit in her stomach explodes outward. She’s freezing again. No; she’s frozen everything. Arendelle is suffocating under her magic, under her–why had she run–stay away–get back–get back in the cage–

Something thuds onto the ground. Elsa’s eyes fly open of their own accord and blue is the only thing she sees. She’s trapped down here–there’s no way out; she’d thought she had mastered the ice and now she’s paying for it. Something roars in her ears–Grandfather’s sword cleaving bloodily down–why can’t I move–why can’t I stop–

me? The dome is lined with ice and the world is endless blue–spikes rising out of the ground–monster–she’d thought it was just magic but it’s her, it’s in her blood–blue like Anna’s eyes on the fjord, wide and blank and frozen solid–right after Elsa had struck her–right through the heart–right through the heart–ANNA–

“What’s going on up there? Marshmallow, stop yelling! Let me–Elsa?”

No. Nonononono. Anna’s here. She can’t–

“Please,” Elsa manages to push out. Stayawayhelpme she doesn’t remember the rest. Her teeth are chattering and she can’t breathe. “Please. Please.”

“Okay, I’m–I’m at the doorway, Elsa. See?” Anna waves. “And I won’t come any closer until you’re sure it’s fine. Right? We’ve done this before. We’ve got this. You’ve got this. It’s not even cold right now. Kristoff, can you–”

“Yeah,” he says immediately, appearing at Anna’s shoulder. “It’s, um. It’s a little chillier here than the rest of palace. I can feel it here, but–” he takes a few paces back, “–not here, and it’s not spreading or getting colder. The ice isn’t looking any different, so I’d say it can’t be more than a five degree dip, at most.”

“You heard it straight from the ice expert,” Anna says, “And it’s not snowing, even a little–you’re okay, Elsa. You’re not losing control. Everyone’s safe. You made them safe. You made this room, and–” her voice wobbles, but rights itself again, “–and sure, some bad stuff happened in it once, but it’s not happening now. And it won’t happen again. We won’t let it. All you have to do now is focus on calming down, okay?”

Elsa takes one sharp, tight breath, then another. Her vision is still marred by wavy lines, so she reaches out, tries to steady herself–

And hits something soft and cold. Marshmallow is looking down at her, his brows furrowed in concern. “Elsa?” he rumbles.

She sags into him, a wet, wounded sound tearing out of her mouth. “Marshmallow.”

“Good,” Anna says as Marshmallow picks her up carefully and sets her on his shoulder. “That’s–thanks, Marshmallow. We’ll count that as your first thing, Elsa. You got four more? What else can you see?”

Elsa opens her mouth, but the word freezes in her throat, because the only thing she can see–

“I got this!” Olaf sings, bouncing in with the snowgies trailing after him. “Hey, big little brother! Welcome back.”

“Olaf,” Elsa exhales, feeling the corners of her lips flick up minutely. The tightness in her chest relents, a little.

“That’s two,” he replies, nodding encouragingly. “And now you have all these guys, and I know you only have to do three more, but I read in a book that it’s damaging to the family structure to pick favorites, soooo…”

The snowgies beam at her in unison.

Elsa lets out a soft huff; not quite a laugh, not yet. Then she begins.

–

“AH-ah-AH-ah!”

Her hands jump involuntarily. Sven grunts at her–half concerned, half irritated as the carrot she’d been feeding him suddenly gets coated in a layer of frost.

“Show yourself! Right now!”

It’s Olaf. It’s just Olaf, still in the Ice Palace regaling his brothers about their latest adventure while the rest of them get ready to go.

Well. While Kristoff and Anna get them ready to go.

Elsa lets out an embarrassed chuckle, resisting the urge to fling the frozen carrot off the side of the mountain so no one can see it. “Sorry, Sven.”

“No apologizing for another hour!” Anna calls out from behind the stack of blankets they now have to pile back onto the sled. “Kristoff, we’re starting the clock again.”

“I was saying sorry to Sven,” she protests, watching her sister huff and puff over the repacking process. “Are you sure I can’t–”

“Nope,” Kristoff says at the same time Anna says “Nothing productive for you for another day. Another week, maybe.”

Even Sven’s gentle headbutt feels rather pointed. “That’s absurd. I can–”

“Someone still wants to be smothered in blankets,” Anna singsongs.

“Anna–”

“Elsa! We did it. We won. We saved like, a ton of people, and you did maybe eighty percent of it by yourself, so will you just stay still for one whole second and appreciate that–”

“We live!” Marshmallow’s roar rings out of the Ice Palace and takes them all by surprise. “We live!” He shouts again joyously, the being she’d made out of misery and fear.

“Yeah.” Anna’s voice sounds small in its wake. “That.”

Elsa lets out a slow, deep sigh, and lets herself slump down against Sven. “It wasn’t eighty percent,” she mumbles into his flank.

A rumbling laugh, coming from the Ice Palace. Marshmallow again: “Good story! Good story, Olaf.”

“It wasn’t,” she repeats, not sure why she’s insisting the point when no one’s even arguing with her. She’d been trying to sound flippant, but now…now she just feels wrung out. Some Fifth Spirit. “You freed the forest, Anna. I didn’t–I just–it didn’t feel good. I don’t…”

She’s so tired.

Anna’s arms wrap around her. “That’s okay,” she says, pressing a firm kiss on the top of Elsa’s head. “You’re okay, Elsa. We’ve got you.”

Kristoff’s hand touches her waist a moment later, carefully enough that she doesn’t startle, gently guiding her to a position where she can be nestled in between all of them.

She doesn’t need to do anything but let herself be moved. Elsa closes her eyes, and leans into their embrace.

–

“Okay,” she says fifteen minutes later, “Just one more thing–”

“Absolutely not,” Anna orders as Kristoff says, “Sven, sit on her.”

#counterpunches #elsa: if i keep my body moving and my mind occupied at all times i will avoid falling into a bottomless pit of despair #L A S T O N E it is finished #disney #helen writes

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dirtyfanfix · 4 years ago

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Double Trouble

Warnings: Rough sex, unprotected sex(stay safe), hair pulling, choking, gagging, anal sex, oral sex.

The Weasley twins were just so attractive. How could anyone resist them let alone pick between the two of them. Maybe it was because they were older than me, maybe it was because they never followed the rules hell, maybe it was because they were just so damn funny and that whole finishing each others sentences thing was so fucking sexy. It was like no matter what I did or where I went the two of them were always there helping me out, taking me under their wings. Now that it was Christmas break, I never have a home to go to so I just stay in the castle, I was hoping to have some cool off time, away from them, but they decide to stay too just so I’m not alone. Don’t get me wrong I love the twins, I mean obviously I want to jump their bones simultaneously, but its going to be practically just the three of us all the time and I’m not sure how I’m going to survive. It wasn’t helping that all they were doing was making jokes, being all sexy, like fuck boys give a girl some alone time to cool off.

So I decided to go to the perfects bathroom for a steamy hot bath to help….relax things. But of course things never go as planned especially with the twins. I was just in the tub starting to rub one out when I heard the twins. I thought for sure it was just me getting way to into my fantasies so I continued but then I heard.

“Dude did she just moan our names?”

I jumped out of the tub forgetting that I was butt ass naked and came face to face with two very erect Weasley’s.

“Well don’t just stand there if you want to do something do it.” I said to the two of them.

“But who do you want?” Fred and George said in unison.

“Honestly? Both, I have been wanting both of you for so long and I’m just too horny to pick, hell I’ve never been able to pick I just want you both ok.” I babble.

The twins looked at each other and I really thought they would walk away but they didn’t they stripped and climbed into the giant tub with me.

Fred started kissing my neck and groping my breast as George started pressing his lips to mine and slipping his tongue past my lips. I couldn’t believe this was happening and I didn’t want it to stop. I could feel both of their hands sliding and groping my dripping wet body I couldn’t stop the moans falling from my lips. I don’t know who, but someone’s hand was rubbing between my legs. I moved my hands down to stroke each one of their very erect members. Fred moaned as I swirled my thumb over his tip and George grabbed my hair when I squeezed his shaft. I could feel George’s hand pushing slightly on the back of my head and I knew he wanted to feel my mouth, so with my hand on Fred’s cock I lowered my mouth over George’s thick tip. Once I felt him in my mouth I couldn’t hold back, I just started pumping, sucking, and gagging on his dick. My hand was working Fred as fast as my mouth was working George. Fred started to turn me around so I was on my knees still sucking George while he sat on the edge of the tub. Fred’s fingers found my folds surprisingly fast and his tip was soon to follow, pushing it’s way inside my dripping center.

“Oh, fuck, (Y/N) you’re so fucking tight.” Fred said breathlessly.

“And her mouth is so fucking nice.” George added as he pushed my head further onto him.

All I could do was gag and moan as they both pounded into me. Fred was going so fast and hard it was shoving George into my throat, it was all feeling so erotic and amazing, I couldn’t help creaming all over Fred but he never stopped his assault on my pussy.

“Aye, Fred, what do you say I take my turn with her now?” George said in a breathy voice.

“Of course, I was wanting to try out her ass, if she’s willing?” Fred asked.

“That sounds just perfect to me.” I moaned.

I stood up from the tub and straddled George, lowering myself onto his thick shaft. I couldn’t wait for Fred and started to rock my hips, I guess George could wait either because he started to bounce me on his dick. Until I felt Fred yank my hair back so that I was looking at him.

“Slow down baby, we haven’t even gotten to the real good part yet.” He said sternly with a small smirk. He put his other hand on my lower back to steady me, then he let go of my hair and assisted his cock into my ass. We went slowly at first but after about a minute none of us could stop from bucking our hips. It was so sensual to feel them both inside me, just completely destroying me. I was moaning and screaming so much I thought I would lose my voice. I lost count of how many times they made me cum and squirt. Fred had both hands on my hips and was using them to thrust as deep and as hard as he could, while George was using his hips to pound into me matching his brother’s speed. Both of them were smacking my ass and grabbing my breasts when they felt the urge. I knew my ass would probably be black and blue tomorrow, but isn’t that how you know you had amazing sex.

“George, its your turn back here.” Fred said between moans.

We got all switched pretty fast and were back to thrusting within seconds, George started to pull my hair while he slammed into my ass and Fred latched onto one of my nipples as he bucked into me from below. I was still cumming and screaming their names, begging them to keep fucking me when I felt their thrusts become sharp. It turned me on so much to know they were about to pump me full of cum together. Fred went first, filling my pussy as I came around him. George went immediately after filling my ass as he pulled me upright by my throat.

“Wow, that was amazing.” I cooed

“We can make it a regular thing if you want.” George said

“Defiantly.” Fred added.

“Well we have two weeks of full privacy.” I smirked.

“Great idea, (Y/N).” Fred and George said together.

This was going to be the best Christmas break ever.

#smut #harry potter #fred weasley #george weasley

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banalbones · 4 years ago

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The Petite Prince: Chapter 5

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8

Chapter 5: The Treasure Hunt, Part 2

Summary: Roman is a child. Virgil and Logan lost him, and have been questing to find him for way too long. Remus loves his bro, but is feeling a bit more chaotic.

Words: 2485

Ships: Familial prinxiety, logince and Creativitwins. Eventual familial royality, roceit and DRLAMP

Genre: Fluff with a side dose of angst

Warnings: A few swears, tiny blood mention, arguing, a mention of being unconscious, a dragon, falling, tell me if there’s any more!

Taglist: @pricklyfish777 @sunflowerblondeuwu @itriedandimtired @draw-your-perfect-world @cemmy @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @nonbinary-lizard-2

_________________________

The ‘twins’ were doing karaoke with the birds.

“Love is an open doo-oo-oor!”

The song was perfect for the pair, an adorable ‘love’ song for Roman, and a Disney villain tune for Remus.

Roman was grinning madly, his gap tooth showing, as his sweet little child voice perfectly nailed all of the notes.

“You’re really good at this,” Remus commented, taking a break from the song. “But Elphaba’s better.”

Cue the *o f f e n d e d p r i n c e y n o i s e s*.

“She’s a bi- she’s a bird! How can she be b- be better?”

Remus cackled. Annoying his brother was fun, even when he was a child.

He probably shouldn’t be thinking that, but still.

Quoting Virgil, sometimes I just gotta be me-an.

The smol one wacked his leg with the stick.

(Remus truly didn’t know how he kept getting it.)

“You know,” he said, “We could decorate the stick.”

That was a thing kids did right? Decorating sticks?

Apparently it was, as Roman squealed in delight and jumped around, whilst simultaneously summoning paint and glitter and smaller sticks and a whole lot of other stuff Remus didn’t bother to acknowledge.

I would have just gotten blood.

_________________________

“Are we supposed to climb this thing?” Virgil asked incredulously.

Logan wasn’t looking at the tower, so much as the dragon. It had shimmering scales, the color of the sea, covering the entirety of its lithe body, with accents of a bright gold littered throughout. The sunset colored wings however, were the things that stuck out most.

The dragon was quite beautiful and had cool wings, in an abbreviated sentence.

It also appeared to be asleep, which was definitely a pro in this situation of cons.

“If we wish to retrieve Roman, I believe so.”

“Well, fuck.”

_________________________

Virgil for all his faults, was loyal. Or so he told himself. Janus (?!?!), when the emo was still a part of the Others, had told him that dark sides were extremely protective of what they deem to be theirs.

So he supposed it made sense that he, the literal embodiment of anxiety, was about to climb a fifty foot tower with no safety precautions, just to save the little prince.

He turned to Logan and grinned sheepishly.

“So, uh, do you want to start?”

Just because Virgil was going to do it, didn’t mean he had to go first.

_________________________

The Dragon Witch smirked slightly as she rested her scaled head atop the tower’s black roof, gazing down at the two sides.

Looked like it was time to drop the ladder.

_________________________

Logan rolled his eyes at Virgil and began to reach for the tower, not sure what he was actually going to do when he touched it, when suddenly a pile of pili fell on his head.

“What the heck?”

The sub-astute teacher looked up to see… a rope of hair?

What?

“It’s like in Tangled!” Virgil said, somewhat excitedly.

“The Disney movie?”

“The Disney movie.” Virgil nodded.

“So what do we do, climb it?”

“I mean I guess,” The Supreme Dark Overlord of Negative Commerce (That’s a throwback) paused, “Because I don’t see any stairs.”

Logan, once again, rolled his eyes.

Might as well start climbing.

And so he did.

_________________________

Roman watched LoLo begin to climb through the fly-eyes. It seemed so fun!

Maybe he could do that one day…

If Remus would let him.

Roman giggled.

He probably would.

_________________________

Remus had wanted to add a thorn bush at the bottom of the tower, to be true to the original, ya know? But the smol one hadn’t wanted them to get hurt.

Again.

So instead, he had come up with an ingenious compromise that Logan would have been proud of.

Put vines at the bottom, but make them look like thorns!

It would be so funny to see Virgil panic and try even harder not to fall, especially with the armor-

Oh yeah!

“RoRo, do you want to give them the armor now?”

The little prince nodded enthusiastically, his face scrunching up in concentration.

And then…

“I did it!”

Little did the prince know that Remus had done a slight flick of the wrist, ensuring that the metal protection would… weigh them down.

He may be my brother, and I still love and will protect him at all costs, but I am always a chaotic rat man.

_________________________

I can’t believe you acknowledged that you were a chaotic rat man.

I can.

_________________________

Patton hummed softly, twirling around as he made the brownies.

He had tried checking on Roman in his room, but the princely side hadn’t answered.

So, he decided to make brownies to give to Roman when he felt like he could talk to him again!

If he ever felt like he could…

Patton shook his head quickly, dismissing the thought.

He would! It was Roman, after all!

Patton swallowed.

It was Roman, after all…

_________________________

Logan was halfway up the tower (and the hair) when he felt a weight be placed on his body. A very heavy weight.

The logical side was now extremely glad he had made Virgil stay on the ground.

Gravity tugged a little too hard on Logan for his own liking, and then he was falling.

And falling.

And f

Into a pile of thornbushes?

Logan inwardly groaned. It was like in the Grimm Brother’s version of the fairytale.

The prince fell into a bunch of thorns and got blinded.

I’m already blind enough, come on!

He barely registered Virgil screaming out his name through the rush of air and thoughts.

And then he landed.

________________________

Virgil screamed as Logan fell.

He was gonna die!

Could sides even die?

He didn’t think so, but what if they could?

The emo’s mind was so filled with what ifs, that he barely registered the dumping of heavy metal on his shoulders.

It was like a weighted blanket but five times heavier.

“Oof.” He was pulled to the floor, just as Logan landed… in a pile of thorns?!

How had he not noticed that?

“Holy shit! Logan!”

He heard a groan.

“Ow.”

Virgil breathed a sigh of relief.

At least he was alive.

_________________________

You fell off a tower?!

Yes. I just said that.

How did you survive?

We’re getting to that.

_________________________

The teacher figure groaned as he opened his eyes. He wasn’t blind, and he wasn’t bleeding.

That was a good sign.

It seems I have not, in fact landed in a pile of thorns.

“Holy shit! Logan!”

Logan attempted to move his head. A fall like that could not be good for his neck.

He managed it, if only slightly, to see a raccoon-like side running, well trying to run, towards him.

“Hello, Virgil. Before you ask, no, I do not know how I am alive.”

“Are you-”

“Yes, I am indeed hurt,” Logan interrupted, “I fell twenty five feet, what did you expect?”

“I don’t… whatever. How come you’re wearing armor?”

Logan responded with a dry “You are too,” before craning his neck (ow) to see that he was, in fact, wearing a bunch of bulky metal.

It was very blue. Or indigo, depending on how specific you wanted to be.

“Why is it so heavy?”

“That’s because of Remus,” a very familiar, lilting voice answered, as weapons materialized in the boys hands.

“Oh shit,” he heard Virgil mutter.

Logan looked up (once again, ow) to see the dragon that had been sitting atop the tower flying towards them.

It let out a roar.

To mirror Virgil’s earlier words, oh shit.

_________________________

Roman stood proudly, brandishing his stick for all to see.

By all, he meant Remus and the birds, as they were the only ones left to see it.

(The other forest creatures had to go, they had told Roman, it was almost dinner time for them.)

Apparently, birds had really weird eating schedules.

Big me had a really weird eating schedule too. He only ate during the night.

That, along with the fact big him never slept at night either led to the little prince forming a rather intelligent conclusion.

Big him was nocturnal!

Like an owl!

Wait…

If Big him was nocturnal (or an owl)…

Did that mean ReeRee was too?

…

“ReeRee… are you a- you an owl? Or noc- or noc-tur-nal?”

The Duke turned.

“Also, do yo- do you li-li-li’ my stick? Its glitty-ery!”

The tiny royal’s big brother looked confused.

“No? Why? Your stick is splendiferous, by the way.”

Now it was Roman’s turn to be confused.

(He was happy with the reaction to the stick.)

“Big me is. How co-how come you aren’t?”

Maybe the lack of sleep at night isn’t something that owl’s do.

Oh! Elphaba’s leaving! Byeee!

The petite prince was so caught up in his train of thought that he didn’t see Remus’s concerned gaze.

Bye bye birdies!

_________________________

Virgil stared at the bedazzled dirk in his hand, the onyx gems glinting in the light of the fire.

Wait, fire?

The emo turned to see a large green dragon (?!?!) diving towards him, flames spewing out of its mouth.

A dragon?

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit

“Virgil! Move!” he heard a voice shouting.

But for a moment he was paralyzed.

Then, in a way that was opposite his regular behavior, he let out a battle cry and leapt towards the reptilian rapscallion (Roman would be proud), brandishing his weapon.

The dragon roared as Virgil threw one of his dirks, the sharp metal burying itself in a shimmering teal scale.

No blood emerged.

One weapon wasted.

“What the fuck are you doing, you inbecile? Run!”

For some reason, Virgil decided to ignore the admittedly good advice.

The dragon swiped at the anxious side, knocking him into the hard brick of the tower.

The scaled beast crept forward.

It poked Virgil’s head, slamming it back into the stone.

And then the world was fading to black.

Well, he knew that wasn’t good.

_________________________

Logan shut his eyes, restraining a groan of frustration.

WHY did people (metaphysical people) never listen to him?

Virgil was the smallest of the sides (apart from Roman, at the moment) and though he was fight or flight, the anxious side really didn’t know how to defend himself, especially against dragons. It also didn’t help that he only had a tiny daggers and a leaden suit of armor to protect himself.

Logan took a deep breath.

…

When the logical side’s eyes reopened, he was subjected to the view of Virgil being yeeted (slang words) into the tower.

Virgil was quickly climbing up the idiot list.

Very quickly indeed.

_________________________

Where am I on the list right now?

The same place as you were when this happened.

Where was I?

That is not important.

What? Yes it i-

_________________________

Remus was concerned. Which was weird for him.

What did the smol one mean?

An owl?

Nocturnal?

Was Roman secretly an owl? Or did his twin have a really unhealthy sleep schedule that led to negatively affecting his mood, energy levels and attention span, making him lash out in even the slightest of stressful situations whilst simultaneously causing his metaphysical human being-like health and mental health to deteriorate?

Nah, he was probably an owl.

And with that (most of) Remus’s concern washed away.

His brother was an owl.

_________________________

Roman was watching the battle through the fly-eyes. Well, battle was an over exaggeration. It was really just VeeVee getting smacked into a wall by a dragon (who looked suspiciously like the Dragon Witch Big him had killed a while ago).

The prince looked to where Logan was.

The nerd looked reeeeeally annoyed.

Probably because now he had to defeat the dragon all by himself.

What’s he gonna do?

Roman watched as the logical side got up, a broadsword appearing in his grasp.

The prince summoned a bowl of popcorn.

He should throw it. Mama should definitely throw it.

Logan threw it.

And missed.

The sword didn’t even get near it!

Come ooooon, Mama.

The dragon roared and pounced on Logan, baring its teeth.

Roman leaned forward, a handful of popcorn nearing his mouth.

This was getting good.

A drop of saliva dripped onto Logan’s face…

Aaaaaannd…

He was whisked away from the fly-eyes view by a pair of grimy hands.

“ReeRee! No fair!”

“Sorry RoRo.”

The little prince pouted, and Remus held something out to hi.

“Look I made a stick!”

_________________________

Did it work?

Did what work?

The stick. As a distraction.

It wasn’t a distraction, I just really wanted to show him my stick!

Liesssss.

It was also a distraction.

_________________________

Patton was becoming concerned.

Roman usually would have come out by now.

Maybe he decided to talk to someone else.

But who?

Definitely not Janus, for obvious reasons. Maybe Virgil?

I should check. Just to see if he’s okay.

I’ll bring the brownies.

Just in case…

And so the walk to Virgil’s room began.

_________________________

Do it for the child.

That was the mantra that Logan was repeating in his head.

He truly did not appreciate being carried through the sky in a dragon’s claws, especially since it had caused his glasses to fall off of his face.

For the last time, I’m already blind! Why is it always me?

It also didn’t help that every single part of his body was aching.

_________________________

Do it for the bean.

That was the mantra that would probably have been repeated in Virgil’s head at this moment, if he wasn’t unconscious.

_________________________

Patton frowned.

Virgil wasn’t there.

Maybe Roman and his dark strange son were with Logan!

And so the walk to Logan’s room began.

_________________________

Remus giggled.

RoRo had forgotten about the fly-eyes almost immediately, being too distracted by the glowing stick.

He waved his hand.

A visitor (or two) was about to drop in.

_________________________

Patton furrowed his brows.

Logan wasn’t in his room either.

Were they all together?

Who else could they be with?

Remus?

It was worth a shot.

And so the walk to Remus’s room began.

_________________________

Back in the dragon witch’s claws, a fully healed, very confused Virgil awoke, and Logan felt all of his physical pain disappear, along with the stupid heavy armor.

And then they were thrown through the window of the brick monstrosity,

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

As Patton twisted the door handle,

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

As Virgil and Logan crashed through the floor of the tower,

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

As Remus looked up to see the ceiling falling in,

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

As Patton pushed open the door,

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

As the left brain boys fell into the Duke’s room.

Oh boy.

_________________________

Roman looked up from the stick to see ReeRee grinning like a madman (That’s pretty normal), VeeVee and Mama sprawled on the floor (Yay! Why’s the ceiling broken?), and Da- Patton glancing around the room with a plate of brownies in his hands (ohnohonohonohonohonoh).

The petite prince was feeling slightly overwhelmed.

“Wha?”

_________________________

Thanks for reading this chapter of the Petite Prince!

(And by the way, at the time of the stick distraction, Roman is around five. If you’re confused, don’t be scared to ask.)

Any and all feedback is appreciated!

#sanders sides #thomas sanders sides #tss #the petite prince #baby roman #roman sanders #ts roman #remus sanders #ts remus #virgil sanders #ts virgil #logan sanders #ts logan #patton sanders #ts patton

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