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foramomentonly · 3 years

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Saved-A Meet Ugly

Author’s Note: Behold, the promised meet ugly inspired by @aewriting ! Blatantly stealing titles from early aughts teen films of my youth at this point.

Summary: Alex discovers a) his new roommate is a Christian Fundamentalist who hates him, b) he’s love with said roommate, and c) he’s super wrong.

CW: negative perspective on organized Christianity/Fundamentalism

Read on AO3

Alex meets his dormmate briefly in the hall as he and his parents are heading out to lunch. Michael Guerin is friendly, his barely-contained, nervous energy evident in the restless way he passes his hands through his close-cropped curls. His parents are formal, bordering on sour, and they glare at Alex’s eyeliner and polished fingernails with disdain. They don’t invite him to eat with them. Then again, Alex thinks as they part and he wanders towards the room he’ll share with Michael, his own father didn’t even bother to drop him off at school. Glass houses, or some shit like that.

Michael has claimed the left side of the room, his bed neatly made up with simple, blue sheets and his desk stuffed with thick textbooks, some already clearly marked with wear. A battered, clunky-looking laptop charges on his nightstand. Some secret tension in Alex slowly uncoils with the knowledge that he isn’t sharing living space with some rich prick; when he eschewed the Manes family military tradition for higher education, Alex left home with little more than his scholarships and a military duffle stuffed with clothes and stolen linens to his name. Knowing his days of watching douchebags like Kyle Valenti flaunt expensive tokens of their parents’ unconditional love are over is a small comfort.

That is, until Alex notices the crucifix resting on Michael's plaid pillowcase. It’s innocuous enough; Liz Ortecho's small home has plenty, family heirlooms hung as reverently as Texas gas station finds, and Alex counts her among his true family. But the facts fall into place like thundering dominos—Michael’s parents' disgust at Alex's makeup, the family's conservative clothes, Michael's closely-chopped hair and, after a bit of snooping, the two well-worn Bibles Alex finds, one in Michael's nightstand and the other on his small bookshelf. Fundamentalists, most likely. Alex swears loud and defiant into the empty room. He thought he'd left bigots and homophobes in his dust, but like a plague of fucking locusts, they followed him, and here he is about to share a sink with one of them.

But Alex also knows better than most that kids aren’t always carbon copies of their parents’ stupidity; he’d flip his shit if someone assumed they knew literally anything about his beliefs based on his asshole father. So when Michael returns to the room Alex is in stealth mode, spread out across his bed and feigning disinterest by flipping through his welcome packet, tracking Michael’s movements out of the corner of his eye. Michael blows a loud puff of air out through his lips and looks like he’s about to flop onto his bed. When he sees the crucifix, he freezes; Alex is about to celebrate a victory against religious indoctrination when Michael lifts the small cross reverently off his pillow and, after an appraising scan of his space, hangs it low on the wall above his nightstand, dragging his school-issued lamp in front of it. He jerks his chin down in a small nod of satisfaction before his eyes dart quickly over to Alex; he almost catches Alex in a glower. Instead, Alex is quietly seething over an intramural sports schedule, his face blank, eyes burning holes in the middle of the page. He figures he’s in the clear when he hears Michael’s bedsprings creak with the sudden weight of his body. Alex glances up and Michael is crossing his arms lazily behind his head. He lets out a loud, satisfied sigh and shoots Alex a disarmingly sincere grin.

“Free at last, huh?” he drawls, and Alex arches a cold brow.

“Sure.”

Alex has every intention of icing Michael out of his daily existence, but as months go by—months where Michael lets his curls grow wild, rambles on and on about the science of irrigation, offers Alex his extensive biology notes for midterms, and laughs loud and deep at all of Alex’s snarky asides—Alex finds himself smiling easily at Michael in return, willingly passing lazy lunch hours and weekend afternoons with him. It comes down to this: for all Michael hasn’t done—the crucifix is an ever-present shadow above his nightstand and weekly video check-ins with his parents are never missed—he just doesn’t fit the mold. He smokes weed on the abandoned picnic tables behind the dorm at night, signs every social justice-oriented pledge and petition shoved at him on a cheap, plastic clipboard on their way to class, and he never wakes up before noon on Sundays. He isn’t fire and brimstone, hate and hellfire. He’s marshmellow fluff; laid back and open, sweet and eager to please, all messy curls and broad shoulders and goofy smiles with too much teeth and—oh, fuck. Alex is in love with him.

Alex is in love with Michael and Michael probably thinks Alex deserves to burn in hell and it’s Kyle all over again. Alex was never in love with Kyle Valenti, but he loved him the way a neglected, angry little boy would love the popular, gregarious kid who was his only source of sunlight. Graciously. Blindly. Kyle was Alex’s best friend, and when middle school puberty made evident that Kyle was a stud and Alex was, well. Alex felt the betrayal of Kyle’s sudden targeted cruelty like a punch to the gut, long before Kyle or his new friends ever laid hands on him. And now, Alex realizes, Michael is his best friend and his heart’s deepest desire and, he’s finally ready to admit, who he jerks off to on lazy mornings after Michael’s barely made it out the door for his 8 a.m. class with a shirt on. Alex is well and truly fucked. “Damned” is too on the nose.

Then one day Alex is dragging his miserably-in-love ass back from class and he totally misses the tie that slipped from the doorknob onto the ugly carpet in front of their door and he opens it on Michael and some random guy going at it on Michael’s bed, sheets bunched at the foot of the mattress, shirts tossed inside out on the floor, and Michael’s hand deep down the guy’s jeans as he pants and whines into Michael’s mouth.

“Shit!” Alex cries, waffling between shutting the door behind him to shield them from the prying eyes of hallway passers-by or in front of him to shut himself out of his own room. “I-I’m so sorry.”

Michael looks flustered, but it’s not the bone-deep terror of being outed; Alex is intimately familiar with that darkest timeline of queer identity. His boyfriend—hook up?—just looks annoyed. His dark eyes glare at Alex and he snaps, “Do you mind, man?” with a sharp nod towards the door. Alex squares his jaw and opens his mouth to retort when Michael says softly, seriously, “Don’t talk to him like that,” shaking his head at his bedmate. The guy huffs in disbelief, rolling off the bed to pull on his shirt, still inside out, and fasten his jeans, brushing his fingers through messy, deep brown hair.

“You’re seriously kicking me out right now?” he murmurs low, and when Michael doesn't answer, he spits, “You are such a dick.”

Michael winces and bites his lip, normally bright eyes dim and gaze cast down towards his own hands. The sight of Michael cowed, flushed and hurt and getting told off by the same Hot Topic reject who was getting off with him not five minutes ago trips Alex's long-dormant kill switch. He steps into the guy's space, pulling back his shoulders so his shirt stretches tight over the muscles of his arms and chest, and draws up to his full height.

"You have thirty seconds to get the fuck out of our room," Alex says, voice low and eerily calm, even to his own ears. The guy glowers at Alex, but the corner of his mouth twitches and he blinks first, intimidation evident in his narrowed eyes. He brushes past Alex and slams the door behind him.

"Are you okay?" Alex asks, moving closer to Michael on instinct and setting a comforting hand on his bare shoulder. Michael gazes up at him with wide, honey eyes, opens his soft, pink mouth, and blurts, "I love you."

Alex blinks, gapes, and what comes out of his mouth is an incredulous, “But I’m gay!”

Michael snorts, cups Alex’s forearm gently and runs his palm up and down his skin, the soft hair on his arms.

“Yeah, I know. That’s kinda why I’m hoping I have a shot.” He pauses, hesitation creeping across his face, and he takes his hand off of Alex abruptly, as though he hadn’t quite realized he’d put it there in the first place. “If you’re not interested, I totally—”

“No, no, I am,” Alex says, and the wattage of Michael’s answering grin could power the university’s electric grid for the rest of the semester. “But I thought you were, like, Team Westboro or whatever.”

Michael’s face falls, his whole body withers, and he hugs his arms around his naked waist. The impact of Alex's words on Michael horrify him, and he drops onto the bed next to Michael, takes Michael's hand in his and strokes his thumb across it’s back, feels the knots of Michael’s knuckles as he grips Alex's hand in return.

“Why the hell would you think that?” Michael asks, staring at their palms pressed together in his lap.

Alex shrugs, answers, "I mean, I didn't. I don't. Not about, like, you." Michael turns his head, brow wrinkled in confusion. "It's just. The cross? The Bibles? Your parents, I—"

"They're not my parents, "Michael interrupts, voice flat. "They raised me, but. They never formally adopted me, and I'd have fucking run the other direction if I thought they were gonna."

Alex stays quiet, waits for Michael to continue, squeezes his hand gently to let Michael know he's listening.

"They're Fundamentalist assholes, for sure, but I never bought into that shit, especially once I—I realized I like more than just girls." Michael reaches out, pushes his lamp out of the way and glares at the crucifix. "I'd love to never see their fucking faces ever again, but winter break is coming up, and then summer vacation, and—" He hangs his head, nearly whispers, "I need to have a place to go. I can't afford an apartment on my own yet. So I play nice. Put that on my wall and make sure it's in the background for video calls. There’s, like, zero support for kids who age out of the system alone. I fucking hate it, but I need them."

Michael leans his head close to Alex's, catches his gaze and holds it with deep, whiskey-colored eyes Alex all but falls into.

"I'm not ashamed of what I like or who I love," he says, "and I'm so fucking in love with you, Alex. I just thought maybe you weren't into me."

Alex licks his lips, and a flush of arousal darkens his cheeks as Michael tracks the movements of his tongue with hungry concentration.

"I'm extremely into you," he says, his throat very suddenly bone dry, his voice husky. Michael's gaze hasn't moved from his lips, but he has flipped Alex's hand in his lap, starts running slow, feather-light brushes of his fingertips across Alex's palm and up his arm, fingers snaking under the short sleeve of Alex's shirt.

"I really wanna kiss you," Michael breathes, "but I’m also aware you just walked in on me hooking up with, like, Alex Manes-lite, so I—"

Alex closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to Michael's and cupping his neck, fingers finding their way into Michael's curls like he's been fantasizing about for so long. They're silky, clingy, and Michael tastes like lingering mouthwash and he smells like rain and Alex presses himself into Michael's lap, desperate to feel Michael's arms around his waist, the hard press of his chest against Alex's.

"I really want to do more than kiss you," Alex pants when they reluctantly part for air, when Michael’s fingers slip beneath his shirt and his nails scrape down Alex’s spine, and Alex feels the touch much lower on the geography of his skin.

Michael laughs, loud and free, and his strong hands on Alex's hips guide his legs apart until Alex is straddling his lap, those same hands pushing Alex's shirt up his chest, over his head.

"Thank God," Michael laughs, and reaches for Alex's belt.

#roswell nm #malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #college au #meet ugly #cw: negative perspective on Christianity/Fundamentalism

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sarcasticfina · 3 years

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Fic Writer Tag Game

How many works do you have on AO3? 263

What’s your total AO3 word count? 4,901,188

How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they? including the fandoms on FFnet, that haven't yet been moved over to ao3, that'd be a total of 37. separating the larger fandoms (marvel, dcu) into their individual parts: Thor; Arrow; Smallville; The Vampire Diaries; Glee; Captain America; Supernatural; Teen Wolf; Iron Man; Life with Derek; Firefly; Friday Night Lights; X-Men; Fantastic Four; Harry Potter; Sons of Anarchy; Girl Meets World; Batman; Daredevil; From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series; Transformers; Lost Girl; Game of Thrones; Banshee; High School Musical; The OC; One Tree Hill; CSI: New York; Degrassi; Gossip Girl; NCIS; The Unusuals; Criminal Minds; iCarly; Secret Life of the American Teenager; Twilight; and The Listener

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. and I wonder (if everything could ever feel this real forever) - darcy/bucky - Steve tells him that Darcy's harmless. Bucky imagines, on paper, Darcy is harmless. HYDRA wouldn't give her a second glance. But he does. He can barely keep his eyes off her. He's not sure he wants to. | Kudos: 5576

2. I Climbed The Tree To See The World (When The Gusts Came Around To Blow Me Down, I Held On As Tightly As You Held On To Me) - darcy centric | darcy/steve - The path to self-discovery, including becoming Coulson's assistant-slash-liaison-slash-bff, Captain America's lady love, and rating fourth on the SHIELD BAMF scale, was like the yellow brick road; it was chaos and confusion around every bend. | Kudos: 3973

3. Take a little piece of my heart (and keep it for yourself) - oliver/felicity - A collection of Olicity prompts on Tumblr posted here for easier access/reading. | Kudos: 3498

4. You put your arms around me (and I'm home) - darcy/bucky - A collection of Darcy/Bucky oneshots, drabbles, and prompt fills. | Kudos: 3293

5. you (anchor me back down) - darcy/bucky - "I'll be right back." Famous last words. | Kudos: 2747

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? not all of them. i do try to keep up on them, especially on longer stories when there's been significant wait times in between chapters, or when a reader is asking a question or is unclear on something. and especially when someone writes a really indepth comment/review, i like to respond to those and talk about motivations and character growth.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I've written a number of fics that either had suicide or major character death, so i'm not sure if one outranks the other in terms of most angsty... hmm... i remember "be still and know that I'm with you (be still and know that I am here)" and "light a match, burn the world to ash (I will watch it die, and hold your hand as I fly)" both got some pretty intense reactions when they were posted. And "It's Your Song That Sets Me Free (I Sing It While I Feel I Can't Go On)" was basically just angst from beginning to end. buuuuut, i think i'll say "so you think you can tell (heaven from hell" was, only because there's a build up of everything going so right, only to pivot at the end, so it feels very bittersweet.

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written? i loooooove crossovers. i find writing in the marvel fandom makes things quite easy, but also smallville. as long as i can find a common thread, i enjoy finding a way to overlap two shows. i'll say the hardest one to write was "ruby red slippers (unavailable in her size)." I'm not sure why, but i found writing each personality together just felt strange. i liked the idea behind the story, but i definitely remember feeling like i was really forcing myself to keep going, like something just didn't fit right.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? oh, definitely. you cannot please everyone, it's impossible. for the most part, hate comes and i either argue back, take the criticism for what it's worth, or just ignore it when it's baseless. i think the hate that bothered me the most was a homophobic PM someone sent me re: "you know I will adore you ('til eternity)," on FFnet. i actually went and searched it up. they've since blocked me so i can't read our whole thread back and forth. but i did put part of it on tumblr so i could rant on it a bit, so you can see that here.

Do you write smut? If so what kind? ha. yes. depending on the story, it can be really detailed or really flowery. it depends on the ship, the plot, and how graphic i feel like being. i've definitely become more comfortable over the years with my writing. that said, i think everybody likes something different. i once had a reviewer tell me a sex scene was too much, just too intense. it was a stefan/caroline story and to be fair, that entire oneshot was just them fucking, lol, but it is what it is. to each their own.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Multiple times.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! for the record, i am always happy to have my stories translated and shared. i just like having a link sent to me and to be credited.

What’s your all time favorite ship? i have a list of OTPs, because interests change and as shows come and go, my love for a ship can be shelved for a while before it pops back up at random. currently, i can't get enough of buck/eddie from 9-1-1. and, historically, chloe/oliver (smallville) and felicity/oliver (arrow) have been two of my top OTPs. but i think i'd have to go with bonnie/damon. they had all the potential and the show dropped the ball by not exploring it. at the same time, that's kind of a blessing, because i don't trust those writers to properly explore what they had without eventually destroying it for the likes of de/ena. it means a treasure trove for writing where it could have gone and all the what if's.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will? the intention is always to finish. but given how i feel about allison mack and how that impacts my feelings re: chloe sullivan, pretty much anything with her as a main character is not something i see myself returning to.

What are your writing strengths? What are your writing weaknesses? i'm putting these together because my strength is my weakness. i love to write. when i get an idea, i go all in and i will skip eating and sleeping to just write write write. but i also eventually hit a wall and i get so many ideas that i hyperfocus on one until the steam is gone and then i hyperfocus on the next one to maintain that need to keep writing, accidentally leaving the last story in the dust for entirely too long. i also have clinical depression that comes and goes, which hasn't been super great mixed with covid and isolation, so more often recently, i find myself overly exhausted and despite wanting to write, can rarely get motivated to do so. so, pre-covid, wrote so much i left entirely too many stories dangling. during covid, i've just been reading and struggling to get myself focused enough to do what i love.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? i appreciate the authenticity when possible, but i've recently been reading more about how native speakers of other languages feel when a) their language is butchered by google translate, or b) it's just not genuine in terms of how bilingual speakers act or speak.

What was the first fandom you’ve written for? it was smallville, but i remember adopting it out to someone else because i wasn't going to finish it. so if you look at my ffnet, the first fandom i wrote for appears to be x-men: the movie, but i remember writing a chloe/oliver story prior to that.

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written? i have a lot. i mean, on ffnet, i have 576 stories, many of which were transferred over to ao3, with a lot of oneshots and drabbles getting joined together into collections. so there's a ton to pick from that span a 14-ish year timeline.

"you know I will adore you ('til eternity)" and "let me break (the walls that surround me)" hold a special place in my heart.

honestly, each story is important in its own way. there are bits and pieces of each that i love. every time i write something new it feels like my favorite. my best. and then a new idea comes along. there are scenes i've written that i loved more than the whole of what they became. lines that stand out that are almost too good to be a part of the larger picture.

one of my all time favorite passages i've written was bonnie's thoughts on damon and herself in 'if you love me (let me go)":

He is far from perfect. He is a novel of red, corrective ink. He is frayed pages and torn binding. His life, his choices, his mistakes leave lasting effects on everyone he meets.

She is a lifeboat with a hole in it. An anchor that drowns in the sea while everyone else remains steady above. She is both the calm and the storm, and while she screams that she will not be tamed, she cries. Bittersweet tears that go unnoticed and uncared about.

there are other stories, other pieces of dialogue, that i've been proud of. that make me laugh when i re-read them. that make me cry. and i love them. there are others that make me wilt and cringe and regret. it's a process. love and pride and growth, all bound together.

Tagging: @absentlyabbie, @anonymous033, and anyone else who'd like to fill this all out, haha

#fic writer tag game #long post

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shadedrose01 · 4 years

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Just Breathe

Ship: none, platonic (paternal) relationship between Harley Keener and Tony Stark

Summary: Harley has a panic attack, Tony helps

Tags: none (not posted on ao3)

Author note: this was a story that I originally wrote for febufluff day 7, "hugs" before realizing that it neither had hugs, nor was it very fluffy, like at all. I didnt want to just scrap it, so I figured I'd post it here. I am going to write another story for day 7 of febufluff, but it'll just come out a bit later 🤷‍♀️🤣

TRIGGER WARNING: This story is all about Harley having a panic attack due to his bullies finding out he is gay, and threatening to tell his school about it (aka being homophobic assholes). I describe the panic attack in detail, so if that's not your speed, DO NOT READ. Be safe, please, I love you all ❤

Click, click, click-

Harley clicks his pen unconsciously, his leg bunching up and down repeatedly, staring down at his paper with squinted eyes, hoping, begging his mind to focus on the homework.

Click, click, click-

Its math homework, Harley is good at math, he has always been good at math, so why cant he just focus? Why cant he just finish the problem?

Click, click, click-

The question muddles in front of him again, and Harley begs himself not to think about it, tries his hardest to focus, focus, focus! but his cries go unheard, the memory swarming into the forefront of his thoughts once more.

The note on his desk, telling him to be behind the school after class. The walk there, where Harley's curiosity had beat out his fear (such a stupid decision, he should have just left, should have just gone home-). The anticipation, leaning against the old, dirty brick, just waiting, waiting, watching and waiting. The group that had shown up, a bunch of bullies from his school, had surrounded him, pushed him up against that very same brick and held him there like pray, grins smug and eyes glistening, eyes knowing.

They knew his secret, they said, his secret that he was trying to hide for days, for months, for forever, trying to bury as deep into himself as he possibly could. Had said that they had caught him a few days, at the movies, with a kid from out of town, a boy from out of town. Had said that they saw them kiss, had said that they knew, knew who he really was, what he really was, had called him vulgar words, names and curses and swears, had beat him into the ground then and there, and walked away laughing.

They told him that they were telling the entire school. They were going to tell the school about his- his feelings, his sexuality, and- and everybody would hate him, hate his guts for something he couldn't control, can't control, had tried to control for so long, for so so long, and then- then the school was going to tell his mother, and his mother would hate him too, abandon him just like his father had, and Abbie would hate him, leave him too. He'd be all alone, all alone and nobody would care about him, nobody would miss him, nobody would want him and- and-

And he can't breathe.

Oh god, he can't breathe.

Harley tries to take a deep breath in, but all he can manage is a shallow gasp, his lungs feeling as if two vice grips are squeezing them on the highest setting, not allowing them to expand and contract, not allowing air to flow freely, not allowing him to breathe. He keeps trying, his faint gasps getting louder and louder, harder and harder to do, his heart beat drumming in his ears, fast and quick, and he's shaking, shaking like a leaf, and he cant stop, cant breath, his chest aches, his heart aches and oh god, he's dying, he's dying, he's going to die out here, in his garage, all by himself, all alone, his mother working and his sister with her friends, all alone, all alone-

He needs to call someone. He needs to- to-

Harley scrambles for his phone, placed beside the sheets of paper that are slowly blurring together as tears fill his eyes, and he tries multiple times to open it, failing, failing, failing every time, -nobody's going to know, he's dying, he can't- until finally, finally it opens, and he clicks on his contacts list, scrolls to the M's, and presses call, holding it up to his ear.

His other hand as made its way to his chest, having a death grip on his shirt as his chest continues to get tighter and tighter, the air feeling thicker and thicker, the room blurring and spinning and he wont make it, he wont make it until-

"Harley? Harley, I need you to breathe, kid." Its faint, Tony's staticky voice barely heard over the blood rushing in his ears, but it's there, and Harley clings to it like a lifeline (it is, it is a lifeline, his only chance at surviving-).

"I- I dont- I cant-" Harley wheezes, curling into himself, resting his head in between his knees and squeezing his eyes shut, hoping it'll help his rapidly increasing dizziness, hoping it'll stop the room from spinning so damn much, hoping it'll stop his world from collapsing on top of him like it is right now, god, please, have mercy-

Tony breaks through the white noise again, his tone softer than Harleys ever heard it, but strong, urgent. "You can, kid. I know it doesn't feel like it, but you can. You gotta try for me, okay?"

Harley just shakes his head, even though he knows Tony cant see it, his body trembling again as adrenaline rushes through his veins. "I'm dying, I'm- I- oh god I'm dying-"

"You aren't dying, Harls, I promise you, you aren't. You're having a panic attack." Harley doesnt respond to that, just sobbing in between his wheezing because he's dying, he knows he is, he can feel it, he's- "Kid, you're going to pass out if you don't breathe, so I need you to listen to me okay? I want you to breathe in for 4 seconds, hold it for 7 and then breath out for 8, you think you can do that for me?"

Harley doesnt, he doesnt think he can do it, but hes gotta- he's gotta try something, anything, he can't just go down without a fight, without giving it a shot. "O-O-O-Okay."

"Okay, follow me, okay? Inhale, one, two three, four-" He hears Tony take a deep breath, and tries to as well, shuttering with a sob as his lungs refuse to expand, refuse to listen, stopping his inhale after two, "Its okay, kiddo, you're doing good, now hold it for me, seven seconds, you got this." Harley tries again, holding his breath even as his body spasms, screaming at him to keep breathing, keep breathing, there isn't enough air, need more air, need- "and release for eight seconds," The air forces it's way out of Harleys lung in one loud push, and he immediately gasps again as soon as his lungs are empty. He expects Tony to be mad at him (he'll be mad at him, hate him just like his mom will, the school will-) , but the older man just keeps reassuring him gently, calmly, soothing Harleys worries. "There you go, bud, see? You got this, you can do this. Let's do that a few more times now, okay?"

They repeat the motion over and over again, and to Harleys surprise, after a while, the inhales start to get easier, his lungs start to open up again, relaxing and stretching again, and his heart starts to slow back to it's normal rate. He's still shaking, but its mostly aftershocks now, the last bits of the adrenaline rush draining out of his body. But now that he's calming down and he doesnt feel like he's dying, he can feel the shame and the horror start to creep it's way in, embarassment flushing his cheeks. "I-Im sorry." He whispers out shakily, running his free hand through his hand before holding it tightly, yanking at it slightly.

"Don't apologize for this, Harley, please." The man sounds tired, in more of a physically/mentally exhausted kind of way over an 'I'm annoyed and hate you' kind of way. Harley still feels a tinge of guilt though. "Are you feeling better now?"

He swallows, his throat dry and sore from heaving in and out breaths. "Yeah, yeah I think so. Thanks."

Theres a pause, a moment of awkward, long and uncomfortable silence that Harley isnt sure how to break, isn't sure he really wants know, until the question he was anxiously dreading breaks it anyways. "Kid..." Tony sighs quietly, "I know we dont normally... do this, the whole having emotional talks about our problems thing, but-" he pauses again, thinking his words through. "...do you want to talk about it?"

Harley grits his teeth, before deflecting. "Talk about what?"

"Harley." The man's tone turns stern, but still soft, still gentle, like Harley's a fragile ceramic plate placed at the end of a shelve, one from blow of wind away from falling and shattering. Then, randomly, he speaks up again, his voice sounding more defeated, resigned, "Look, bud, I cant force you to say anything, but I know from experience that talking about it can help sometimes."

Harley sighs, knowing he isn't going to get out of this, no matter how much he wants to (or, how much he thinks he wants to, even if theres some small part in the back of his brain calling out to him, longing for him to tell Tony everything, no matter the inevitable consequences-). He just shrugs, scuff his foot against the cement ground of his garage, mumbling out. "I don't know what to say, where to start..."

"That's okay. Just say something. Starting is always the hardest part."

Harley snorts, trying to lighten the mood one last time. "Since when did you become a therapist?"

"Since I started going to one." Tony deadpans, a tiny light of amusement ringing in his tone before it disappears again, back to serious. "You can tell me anything, Harley. No judgement, okay, maybe a little bit of judgement depending, but no everlasting grudges, I promise."

Harley chuckles lightly, his back of his eyes burning suddenly, randomly, a flash of warmth flowing through him. Because even with all of his self deprecating thoughts, even with all his anxiety, the one thing Harley knows about Tony Stark is that he always keeps his promises, no matter what it costs to do so.

And so, Harley tells him. Tells him his truth, shakily, nervously, painstakingly slow and fearful, only to be told instantly that it's okay, that he is okay, that it doesn't change anything. Tells him about the boys at his school, about their attack, about their plans with a few split tears and a sob or two. Tells him about how afraid he really is, about how he doesnt know how anyone will react, if his friends will leave him or not, if his family will still love him after it all. And Tony reassures him the whole time, backs him up through it all, telling him it'll all be okay, that even if the school finds out and it becomes a big deal, that it'll blow over in a few weeks, and if it doesnt, that high school is just the first part and a small portion of a longer, bigger life. Telling him that if his friends leave, that they arent truly his friends, and that he knows that his mom, his sister will love him no matter what. "Theres only a few things I know about Macy Keener, but I do know for a fact that she loves her son to death, and couldnt even imagine her life without him in it." (That caused a few more tears to be shed).

And after it's all said and done, the call ended and "The Mechanic" is shining back at him in big white letters, Harley starts back to work on his math assignment with a grin on his face, feeling lighter, better than he has in a long time.

#febufluff fail #oopsies #angst #panic attack #anxiety #homophobia #harley keener #tony stark #irondad #fanfiction #fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu

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lumikatdraws · 5 years

Text

Prompt #20: Bisect

(”T,” Estinien/Aymeric, tentative slash over an established friendship. Takes place several years prior to canon [before the Winter of Coerthas]. Estinien POV. Minor warning for implied headcanon about Ishgard being homophobic.)

- - - - - - - - - -

“The hour is late,” Estinien muttered, glancing at the clock on the mantel. Still, the twilight lingered. In the summer months, the sun stretched on. “I will need to leave the manor ere long.”

Even in the warm weather, his voice always caught like a growl in his throat. Why, he was uncertain. The sound it made was rough and grating, morning and night. People often made note of his timbre, the way it conjured gravel and smoke. Some were attracted. Some were repulsed. Aymeric never paid it any mind. He simply accepted it.

Now, Aymeric’s pale eyes flicked to examine the time for himself. He made a calm sound of agreement and set his half-finished cup of tea down on the parlor table. “Indeed,” he agreed, stifling a sudden yawn. He cast his surly brother-in-arms a mildly reprobative glance. “Go home, my friend. Ser Alberic keeps his vigil until you return, does he not?”

Estinien grunted in acknowledgement but slouched deeper in the settee.

A soft laugh spilled from Aymeric’s lips and he shook his head gently. “He is a good man—”

“I know.” Estinien tossed his head back against the couch; stared at the ceiling and sighed with frustration. “A very good man. One of the best men I have had the pleasure of knowing.”

“Surely he would wish to hear you say that,” Aymeric declared.

Estinien grunted and pressed his lips firmly together.

He could feel the way his friend studied him; the way his pale eyes almost left behind white-hot tracks. Blazing and wintry all at once. “Tell me, Estinien—if you will,” he began. His dark voice was solemn, but kind. “For what reason do you guard your sentiments so strictly?”

The words speared through him like a sword or a lance and he could feel his hackles start rising.

For what reason, indeed. Beyond losing all he loved to the wrath of a wyrmking? Beyond life as an orphan thereafter, besides? Aymeric knew those reasons, but he asked for his own; another effort to reach down into his torment—another attempt to grapple and pull him to the surface.

Aymeric, always picking and prying, wanting so badly to untangle him.

It was a lost cause.

“Sentiment is the gateway to despair,” Estinien muttered, defensive, pulling tighter. He studied a crack in the molding above the dusk-limned window. “Sentiment breeds weakness.” He clenched his jaw. “I would sooner throw myself into the abyss than allow sentiment to control me.”

He felt the heat of Aymeric’s eyes, roaming over him slowly. “To allow it to control you would be a weakness, indeed,” he permitted. “But I would argue that sentiment itself is far from frailness—particularly sentiments like joy, or like love.” He took a thoughtful breath. “Feeling breeds infirmity in reaction, most often to aching. We lash out in pain and anger, or in sadness.”

Estinien knew all these things. He had no need for this homily.

“Treat me like a comrade, Aymeric, not a wayward child.” He tried to keep the bite from his voice, but it still came out sour. He tipped his head to face him, hoping his eyes at least held some thread of apology. “Well do you know how much I loathe being lectured.”

When Aymeric smiled, his eyes crinkled. They were almond-shaped and narrow and the color of ice or diamonds—but Estinien snorted at the thought, because Aymeric’s eyes were far finer than diamonds. Aymeric’s lips quirked in amusement and gentle affront. “Do you laugh at me?”

“Bloody hells, no.” It came out along with a bitter chuckle. “I laugh at my own damned self.”

That piqued his interest. “Perhaps my sermon struck a chord against your will?”

Estinien grimaced with all the force he could muster. “Shut it, Borel.”

Fury, Aymeric was smiling again. Smiling and ruffling a hand through his hair, black and glossy, like the feathers of a raven. Why in the name of Halone was the man so godsdamned lovely? “I shall continue to hope that you listen, somehow,” said Aymeric, almost shyly.

Estinien huffed and stared at him sternly. “I always listen to you, you sodding dimwit.”

Aymeric grinned wryly, and—was he blushing? “Thank heaven.”

He was.

He was blushing.

Aymeric was blushing, and Estinien was frozen.

The clock tick ticked on the mantel. The sun continued to set. The gentle summer wind whispered on the window and Estinien tried to breathe, to move, to do anything but keep staring. But he was transfixed by the flush on his face and the something else in Aymeric’s eyes; something new and very brittle, gently rising, like a dove on the surge of a thermal or a white cloud of rainfall in the Highlands— “Estinien?”

The way he said his name made every ilm of Estinien prickle. “What.”

Aymeric took a thin breath. The tips of his ears were red now, eyes half-veiled by black lashes.

Hellfire burned in his blood as Estinien thought he almost looked edible.

“Might I ask you—one thing else?”

Did Estinien dare to invite it, whatever was happening? Did he dare?

One thing was for certain. He had not the strength to look away.

The word fell from his lips before he could stop it. “Ask.”

Aymeric gave a breathy laugh—a small, lopsided grin. He managed to keep their eyes locked together despite his palpable embarrassment. “Stop me at once if this disturbs you,” he began, his voice laced with the shadow of a tremble. “Or if it comes at all as a surprise. But I,” his air hitched and stoppered. He cleared his throat once. Twice. Shook his head in evident humiliation. There was a long, tense pause as he struggled. “Words have ever been my strength above actions—” He took another, far more ragged inhalation. “And yet they fail me now.” He looked away then; closed his eyes tight. “I was a fool to think I could ask it—”

“Tell me,” Estinien muttered, desperate to be beheld again.

Long black lashes parted to reveal that light blue gaze of glittering sky and stardust, flicking to inspect him. But now, where the pale, fragile promise had been swelling, something heavy and glacial was sliding into place. “A wave of impulse overwhelmed me,” Aymeric was saying, jerking his head. “It would be remiss of me to mention, in far more ways than one.”

Estinien was ashamed of the way he wanted to yell at him; to take him by the shoulders and force him to tell. He took a thick breath instead. “Say what you are thinking.”

“I—” His mouth trembled. “If it interferes with our friendship—”

“Nothing could do that,” Estinien growled. Somehow, he was leaning closer regardless, hands still itching to grab. Aymeric flushed a bit hotter at the closing of the distance, perhaps a bit hotter at the look in his eyes. Well. Confusing as they were, doubtless Aymeric could see some measure of his feelings. He was always very skilled at reading a room.

Aymeric flung the words from his lips in a rush. “I never thought I would wish this,” he said quickly. “I am—rarely comfortable enough to wish it, but—” The breath he took rasped in his throat, very dry. Aymeric wet his lips. “Would you—perhaps—would you kiss me?”

It was as though the world had stopped. Time stopped ticking. Air stopped moving. The wind outside surely stopped blowing. Perhaps the war was ended, and Nidhogg had finally died, and peace was falling, at last, over every malm of Coerthas— “Pardon?”

Aymeric gulped a small breath, making his shoulders rise and fall. “Forgive me,” he blurted, all the blood in his body surely rushing to his face. “I never should have asked—”

“No.”

He let himself take Aymeric by the shoulders then. He was slim, but powerful, corded with muscles; a knight with formidable gifts all his own. Aymeric said he never thought he would wish this, and as he held him in his hands, Estinien was struck by a parallel musing: That for all the wild gnashing of his desires, Aymeric was perhaps the only man that could tempt him.

And tempted, he most certainly was.

“Never have I done such a thing with a man,” he admitted.

“Never have I,” said Aymeric, at once.

They stared hard into each other’s eyes, and Estinien took a shaky breath. “If that is what you wish,” he said, perhaps his roughest, smokiest growl, “For you, I will grant it.”

Aymeric shook with a visible tremble; made Estinien quake through the link of his arms. He moved an ilm closer and hesitated. “If it feels at all—wrong—you must say so at once—”

Tentative, Estinien moved an ilm of his own. His long hair slipped across his shoulders; began to drape to reach for Aymeric itself. “Rest assured that I will pitch you aside if it feels wrong.”

Aymeric coughed out a laugh; searched Estinien intently. “Thank the Fury.”

Tick, tick went the clock on the mantle. The summer wind hushed against the window, and Estinien leaned their foreheads together. His black hair was exactly as soft as it looked, and he smelled like salt and grass—they had been training afield in the daytime. Estinien brushed their noses together and caught a whiff of the tea that Aymeric was drinking, sweetened with that syrup of birch that he liked. A gaze blue as the sky in the morning held Estinien through the curl of long black lashes and he let himself be taken in. Nothing in the world could be wrong if Aymeric beheld him like that. Nothing in the world could be anything but right.

He closed the distance.

Aymeric tasted like tea and birch syrup—along with the bitters of anxiety. Estinien kissed him very gently, and Aymeric timidly answered. Their mouths found a mesh, new and unfamiliar, and Estinien was amazed at how plush his lips felt; at how quickly his own body was reacting.

They parted.

“Ah. That was—” Aymeric exhaled, face still beguilingly rosy. He grinned and flushed harder and laughed without sound. “That was really very nice.”

Estinien was speechless, but he grunted in what he hoped was affirmation.

Aymeric looked at him in immediate concern. “Are you well?”

Estinien jerked his chin by way of a nod and shifted his hips. Gods buggering damn his all too rousable flesh. Merely one kiss and he was ready to pounce? On Aymeric? Verily?

The other’s eyes were flicking down, perceptive, and Estinien resisted the urge to fold his hands in his lap. In the splitting of an instant, calculations and understanding flashed behind his pale blue eyes and Aymeric raised his black eyebrows in candid surprise, locking their gazes together again.

“Not one word,” Estinien grumbled, leaning away, completely bisecting them.

He could tell that Aymeric bit back a laugh from the way his eyes crinkled again. “You would deprive me of words in this moment—my instrument of choice?”

Estinien crossed his arms and took slow breaths, relieved to find that his body was calming. “I beg you would keep them to yourself,” he mumbled, knowing he would not.

“You are very good at that, you know,” Aymeric began, tongue flexing sure enough. He was reaching for his tea as if nothing at all had happened. “Very impressive, if I am honest.”

Estinien snorted at that. “I have had my share of practice,” he rumbled. “Far more than you have, you cloistered old ascetic.”

“Guilty,” Aymeric readily confessed, tipping his cup to his lips.

The sound of the door in the foyer, creaking open. Heels clicking, distant in the hall. A voice that lilted like a harpsichord and rustled like old damask curtains. “Aymeric?” A pause. “There is a pair of dirtied boots cast sidewise in the vestibule. Is Estinien there?”

Both young men straightened up at once and glanced toward the door to the parlor.

“Aye,” Estinien shouted, knowing the sound would be distinct enough to carry.

A heartbeat of silence and a gentle hoot of laughter. “Praise Halone,” cackled the Vicomtesse, her voice very wry. “I knew no son of mine would make such a fine mess.”

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#ffxivwrite2019 #estinien #aymeric #estinien wyrmblood #aymeric de borel #slash #estinien/aymeric #aymeric/estinien #FFXIV #ffxiv fanfiction #my writing #fluff #Grumblepuddle McEyeballhands #Angsty McEyeballs #Ser Cinnabon #Just Estinien things #Halone bless these beautiful boys #i love them so much

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planetsam · 5 years

Text

Michael Guerin, Space Pirate

Huge shout out to @signoraviolettavalery who made a great post about a Martian au that I cranked up the angst on by deciding Alex would be a great space voyeur to Michael’s space pirate.

Being stuck on the graveyard shift feels oddly appropriate.

He thinks Michael would have loved the irony of it.

Alex takes a long drink from his coffee. He watched the launch after it happened, in one of the staff break rooms. He didn’t think much of it, only the 3AM shift he had the next morning was on his mind. Now he wishes things were different. Not that he fully expected his high school fling to remember him, or to realize that he was working for NASA as well. Alex is in SatCom, he monitors their satellites. Eyes in the sky, some people call him, but he likes to think of himself as an Interplanetary Voyeur. Most of his education and training goes to waste. He didn’t mind it when he felt like he was a part of something bigger than himself, making sure that everyone got home safely.

Now when he looks at the red planet, all he thinks is how Michael finally got his wish.

Michael always wanted to be part of something bigger. He also wanted to get the hell off the planet. Alex remembers their endless conversations about it, laying under the real stars when they could and the fake, tacked on stars when they couldn’t. Michael found his way off the planet. And was the most popular astronaut to boot. He was the only one surprised at that. Alex saw his face everywhere. Each time it kicked up a gut punch of emotions. Mostly now it was a sadness that was far too familiar when it came to him, to them—now though there was a finality to it. The idea that Michael would be bones on Mars and the only way Alex would ever see him was in old footage was borderline incomprehensible. For the moment Alex let himself not think about it and focus instead on his job. The storm had cleared and he focused on what they could see. It was highly unlikely they would ever see Michael’s body, the dust storm would have buried him. But Alex hopes he does. Michael deserves that closure.

Taking another hit of caffeine, he turns to scrolling through the pictures and cataloguing things that have shifted in the dust. He frowns and zooms in towards the HAB. Alex refines the pictures, teasing out a clearer image. He can picture the conversation in his head, he knows the exact arguments. He brings up the images from the past few days. The way things have shifted does not line up with what is in front of him. The solar panels should be completely covered, but they are clean. Spotless, or as spotless as anything gets on Mars. He looks again and triple checks just to make sure. The chance is impossibly slim. But his hand is already reaching for his phone. He thumbs in the number for security.

“I need the emergency contact number for Dr. Kapoor,” He says, “this is Alex Manes in SatCom.”

“Are you sure it’s an emergency?” The bored voice asks. Alex isn’t sure of anything at the moment.

“Yes,” He says instead.

The head of the mission is wildly above his pay grade and Alex has been raised to respect the chain of command. Why his violations of it seem intrinsically linked to Michael Guerin is something he doesn’t have the capacity to figure out at the moment. Not after the phone rings twice and he hears the man on the other end clear his throat. God, he’s woken his boss up at 3:35 am.

“Hello?”

“Hi, sir, this is Alex Manes in SatCom,” he says, “I think Michael Guerin is alive,” there is a distinct bang and a groan, a whispered apology and the sound of feet moving, “the solar panels are clean.”

“And you’re sure it’s not the wind?”

“Yes, sir,” he says, glancing up at the screen as the next round of images come through. He almost drops the phone, “sir, the Rover has moved.”

“What?!”

“The rover moved,” he says, scrambling to look at the photos again, “the solar panels are clean and the rover has moved.”

“I’ll be there shortly.”

Fuck. Mars.

Fuck it so hard.

Michael is over this planet. He wants off. Why he can’t find a planet he wants to stay on is beyond him and now definitely is not the time for those deep philosophical questions. He’s got more pressing issues like making sure the hole in his gut closes without infection, finding a way to supplement his food and, oh yeah, contact earth.

“Look, I’m not upset about being left behind,” he tells the log, “that’s protocol. What pisses me off is the fact that I’m doing everyone’s homework,” he shakes his head, “here’s my new universal constant: a group project will always end with one person doing all the work. We’ll call it Guerin’s Law.”

He has an idea for contacting earth. The problem is that it rides on earth knowing he’s contacting them. He’s got no idea if anyone has even figured out he’s alive. He doubts it. But there’s a chance. He knew it was bullshit but he had an affection for the dramatic Rover that gave it’s dying words and sang itself a birthday song every year. Michael has had plenty of those birthdays. And of course when he’s already doing everyone’s work, he now has to do the extra credit and pull off the save. If he doesn’t get an A, he’s fucking suing. He looks in the camera, aware this could be his last message.

“Captain Evans,” He says, “none of this is your fault, I forgive you for everything if that’s what you need to hear,” his solemn face turns deadly, “but if this doesn’t work and I die listening to your alarmingly inclusive Donna Summer, I will turn your life into the karaoke bar from hell.”

Seems like a good note to go out on.

Summer eat your heart out.

Alex looks over the chart again.

And again.

The spotlight is nerve wracking. They have established Michael is alive, but they don’t have a way of communicating. He knows Michael is trying to figure something out and everyone is scrambling to find it. He also knows he has an advantage. It’s been years, so many thing have changed, but he’s got a good idea of how Michael’s mind works. He follows the paths the Rover is making and connects the dots before anyone else.

“Opportunity?”

“It lines up,” he says, “he’s going for the Rover.”

“Let me make some calls.”

Thankfully the Opportunity team is largely still around. By the time Michael gets it up and working, they are ready. The images come in and patch together. Alex is awake for twenty hours straight but he’s there when the images come in. Michael standing in front of two signs and holding a third. Alex’s heart leaps into his throat and it’s got nothing to do with the truly staggering amount of coffee he has consumed. A cheer goes up and he sits down before his knees can do anything like buckle. Michael’s face is just visible. Alex can make out a single curl that’s half escaped from his cap and it’s always the little things. Michael is alive. They point the camera towards the ‘yes’ sign and the next image is blurry but only because he’s jumping up and down. He’s got no back up supplies and he’s jumping up and down.

Alex thinks he might be the one who dies in all of this.

OPP: Huston we had a problem.

DSN: Good to hear from you.

OPP: You have no idea.

So the communications issue is more or less resolved which is awesome. And he’s saved Opportunity. Which makes him even more awesome. All around it’s awesome. Except Isobel still thinks he’s dead which is less than ideal. So he’s in a little trouble on that one. But he would trade everything for her to yell at him. Not that he’s got a lot to trade.

OPP: hey, DSN whose babysitting me tonight?

DSN: SatCom

OPP: no shit

DSN: language

OPP: fuck

OPP: whose babysitting? got a name?

DSN: alex

OPP: i’m michael

DSN: i know

OPP: does this mean i’m super famous? think i can get free fries at the mess?

DSN: no it’s alex. from high school.

Michael is literally on a different planet but he jumps anyway and twists around like he’s being spied on. Alex was a punk kid who, okay, he may have been slightly in love with. But his homophobic dick of a dad ended that. He may have crossed Michael’s mind a few times, but never enough to do something like look him up and see that they worked for the same place. For some reason he feels more comforted by this news than he has by almost anything else. Except maybe that people knew he was alive at all.

OPP: no fucking way. i thought you said you were joining the Air Force.

DSN: i did. then I went to grad school and joined NASA.

OPP: wait SatCom figured out i was alive. was that you?

DSN: yes

DSN: i saw the solar panels were clear

OPP: and you thought that was me?

DSN: i figured even you would clean if your life depended on it.

Michael snorts, it’s not like he’s had much to clean back when he knew Alex. He was living in his truck. But when he thinks about his desk at NASA—okay it is a mess. He can admit that. It blows his mind that Alex has been here the whole time. That Alex figured out he was alive. He tries to reconcile the idea of who he remembers with whoever found him. But all he can picture is the kid who unknowingly saved his life more times than he can count. More times plus one, if he thinks about it. Probably plus more to come, if things keep going this way.

OPP: do you still have that septum ring?

DSN: go to sleep

OPP: come on, do you?

DSN: no

OPP: too bad, I thought it was kind of hot.

DSN: bed, michael

OPP: yes dad

DSN: please do not call me ‘dad’, they are reviewing these

OPP: ok daddy

Captain Isobel Evans reads the message several times to be sure. Then she gathers everyone together. She’s thought she was a good leader this whole time, focusing on getting the crew that was still alive back home even though the only thing she wanted to do was cry over the loss of her crew member. She runs the scenario over and over again. But it remains the same. There was no other choice. Now she doesn’t know what to think when she has to tell them. It’s only Max she looks at when she speaks.

“Michael’s alive.”

Pandemonium erupts from the others but Max stares at her. His own horror and guilt reflect hers. Michael is alive but he’s on another planet. Michael’s alive but who knows for how long. She made the call to leave him, but as the ship’s doctor he made the call that he was probably dead. They are both culpable and innocent, but Isobel blames herself more than anyone. She should have given the order to wait, no matter the risks. They all scramble over to the communications screen. Kyle gets there first because it is, after all, his chair. He refers to it as his ship too. Then again he is the one who flies it.

HRMS: sorry we left you on mars, we just don’t like you that much.

OPP: assholes

OPP: hows the cptn?

HRMS: we’re all good. how are you?

OPP: bored af

OPP: look. boobies ( . Y . )

HRMS: michael!

That night Max sits hunched over in his bunk, arms wrapped around himself. He never should have said that Michael was dead. But he and Isobel have been running over everything. But now it turns out Michael is alive and he can’t fathom what it must be like for him to be back there alone. Did he know that they would learn he was alive? Did he think he would die there a second time and no-one would know? The thoughts are horrible and each occurs to him in rapid succession until he thinks they might drive him crazy.

“Hey,” Liz slips into his pod, “how are you holding up?”

“I told Iz there was no way,” he says, “he’s been there the whole time and i had no idea—“ he stares at her, aware he is asking for answers she doesn’t have, “what if he dies there? How is he going to spend four years there until we launch another mission?”

“He’s going to be fine,” she says, cradling his face in her hands. He ignores the rules, the fraternization line they always dance around and leans into her touch, “he’ll be okay and soon you will laugh about this,” she smiles, “after you buy him all the vodka on earth.”

“I’ll buy him whatever he wants, as long as we get him back.”

OPP: alex

OPP: ALEX

DSN: i’m sorry, Alex has been transferred to SatCon.

OPP: GO GET HIM

Huddled in the Rover, Michael forces his breathing to be steady. He cannot afford for something else to go wrong. Behind him, the HAB stands as a shell, blown when he failed to pressurize it correctly. It broke. He broke it. His crops are gone and he feels like crying. Which is not going to help. He can’t panic. He can’t flip out. He wants Max and Isobel and his pod on the ship that’s getting farther away with each second. Mostly he wants the person on earth whose his lifeline in this. He forces himself to look away from the screen. Maybe Alex is asleep somewhere. Maybe he’s just as fed up with his bullshit as he was in college. Michael grips the chair. No, no he is not giving into his abandonment issues because he’s literally the only person on a planet and his only friend won’t answer the phone. Mars is his planet and he refuses to have them go down like this.

DSN: michael what happened?

“Thank you Martian God,” he breathes

OPP: the hab depressurized

OPP: i’m ok. crops are gone. all of its gone.

DSN: you’re ok. thats the main thing.

OPP: says the guy with seamless at his fingertips

DSN: i told you you were going to have to learn to cook one day

Michael laughs despite everything. And okay maybe it ends in a sob, but just one. Alex throwing shade like they’re texting and this isn’t a life or death situation makes him feel so much better. He knows Alex is probably hyperaware of being watched but he’s still willing to do it. Michael knows it shouldn’t be a big deal but he’s alone on a planet. The only person who can judge him is in a mirror and he sure as hell doesn’t bring one of those on the rover.

DSN: michael are you there?

OPP: i’m there i’m just outraged

OPP: i am an extraordinary boiler

DSN: do i want curly or regular fries with this sandwich?

OPP: asshole

OPP: thanks

DSN: hang in there

Maria Deluca, astrodynamicist extraordinaire figures it out.

She checks her math, swears loudly and breaks her almost new piece of chalk. Guerin is a planet away and he still manages to ruin her love life for at least—ugh—another year. Asshole. Why couldn’t he have just stayed on the ground with Alex like he wanted to? She writes out her calculations and tells the mission heads. Then she does the right thing and hides the info in the latest data dump for the ship, knowing her wife and her bff will figure it out.

That evening she finds Alex in SatCon.

He looks awful and she feels the same annoyance at Guerin. They’ve both slept with him and she might have had feelings for the mop haired cowboy at one point, but Guerin is good at leaving and being so focused on one thing that he fails to see anything else. Like an unhappy boyfriend or girlfriend. She sits next to Alex and hands him a cup of coffee.

“Any word from the space cowboy?”

“His food supplies are ok but the rations are getting to him,” he says, “part of its mental but the rest—“ he shakes his head, “he shouldn’t have to deal with his issues up there.”

Michael was food insecure for most of his childhood. He’s good at functioning on limited calories but he’s also scared of not getting his next meal. The fact that Alex remembers that makes Maria want to hug him. She settles for sighing and shaking her head at the situation. All of NASA has been reading their back and forth. For science. The fact that it reads increasingly like a romance novel is definitely not important. And people definitely aren’t taking sides. She doesn’t have a Team Alex t shirt like some people. Just a baseball cap.

“He’ll be okay,” she says.

Alex nods wordlessly but his eyes are glued to the screen where their communications occur. She nudges him.

“Say hi,” She says.

“I can’t. He needs to focus.”

“You can still say hi,” she says.

“It’s a waste of resources.”

Rolling her eyes at men and their excuses she nudges his chair out of the way and gets at the keyboard.

DSN: hi

“Maria!”

Ten seconds later the reply come.

OPP: hey i was just about to message you

OPP: you miss me that much?

“Maria—“ Alex tries for the keyboard.

DSN: always

Alex grabs it finally.

DSN: adokfjosiaf

OPP: you ok?

DSN: sorry. yes.

OPP: good. i miss you too.

Alex sucks in a breath and Maria grins. It’s almost almost worth another year with her wife. Not quite but almost. Alex gulps and stares at the message. His fingers hover over the keyboard as he hesitates, swamped by an insecurity Maria has seen before. She looks between him and the keyboard, sending every mental signal she has to him.

DSN: keep going and we can see each other again

OPP: dunno, you could always come to Mars

OPP: visit me

DSN: I like earth

OPP: you’re making this song way too relevant

DSN: what are you listening to?

OPP: I would do anything for love

“That is my song,” Maria says, “my song with my wife.”

“She’ll be back soon,” Alex offers.

Maria hates them both.

“This is a mutiny,” Isobel says, “we all need to participate and we all need to agree. Kyle and I know the consequences. We’re military. But the rest of you need to understand this could mean the end of your careers. They might not let any of you fly again,” she says, “it also means another year without your families. There isn’t any shame in wanting to go home. We do it together or not at all.”

“No one gets left behind if we can get them,” Kyle says, “I might be flying this thing but I am still a doctor. Do no harm. I vote we go back.”

“Michael is my brother,” Max says.

“My family is here,” Liz tells them, gripping Max’s hand, “let’s do it.”

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Jenna, their long suffering media relations director says.

“The Hermes is in the middle of an unsanctioned maneuver to slingshot themselves back to Mars using earth’s gravity as an assist.”

“So a mutiny,” she says, “you want me to put out a press release that says a bunch of astronauts turned space pirates have performed a mutiny?”

“Actually it’s Guerin who would asked to be referred to as a space pirate, since he is technically commandeering a vehicular over international territory.”

She sighs. It’s too early for a migraine.

“I hate everyone in this room.”

DSN: michael

DSN: michael update me

DSN: GUERIN

DSN: captain blonde beard, do you copy?

OPP: CBB: i copy. everything’s good

DSN: you are taking this way too far

OPP: CBB: that’s kind of judgmental for someone whose not a space pirate

OPP: CBB: if you were here id make you walk the plank. by that i mean solar panel

DSN: find water and maybe it’ll work

OPP: CBB: i have to starve, become a pirate, now i gotta find water too?

OPP: CBB: anything else?

DSN: come home

OPP: CBB: only because I want to, not because you’re making me

He modified the ship like they tell him but until he’s in there, he doesn’t feel so great about sitting there. Not until his radio crackles to life with the first human voice he’s heard in over a year.

“Guerin, do you copy?”

“Iz!” His voice breaks around the syllable of her name.

“Michael, oh thank god,” she says. Isobel has had her game face on this whole mission, hearing the relief makes the tears break free, “we’re launching you, strap in.”

“Tell Valenti to be careful,” he says.

“I got you, Guerin,” Kyle says, “you ready to come home?”

God that sounds so nice.

“I don’t know, it’s kind of nice having this all to myself,” he chokes out.

“We got you, hang tight.”

He blacks out.

When he comes to, the ship is too far away. He can hear the swearing. It’s bad. He takes a deep breath and refuses to give in to the panic. The side door opens and he sees Isobel coming towards him. Max is on the side of the ship. His family is there.

“I’m going Iron Man,” he says, punching a hole in his hand.

“Michael!”

He aims himself as best he can and propels towards Isobel. She reaches and just when he thinks this isn’t going to work, they collide. They lurch violently to the side but she locks her arms and legs around him and snaps a carabiner to the front of his suit. The lead connecting them snaps taut and for a moment he’s sure it failed. He’s dead in space. But he blinks several time and nothing has changed. The relief shatters him in a way he didn’t know was possible and Isobel lets out the best laugh he’s ever heard in his life.

“I got him!” She calls and everyone erupts into cheers, “I got you,” she says.

“You have terrible taste in music,” he tells her.

They reel them in. The only possible reason he would let go of her is to throw his arms around his brother. Max clutches him and Isobel together as the hatch seals and the chamber pressurizes. Michael collapses against his siblings who take his weight immediately, undoing his helmet. Their voice goes into his ears, no radio or texts. But the first human hands that touch him belong to a friend.

“Mikey!” He’s not even mad about the nickname as she hugs him and then works on getting the suit off him.

“Liz! Get me—“

“On it.”

She gets him out and then Max and Isobel are there. Kyle and Liz fall with them and it’s a big pile of tears and hugs and laughter and snot. He doesn’t care. The pile make their way to the comms to message that they have him. Unwilling to let go of each other even though Michael is very aware that he needs a shower.

CMMND: good work! Come home.

Alex has his last 3AM shift the night before they get back. Maria keeps him company. She suggests that he come with her to the families area but he turns her down. He’s not family. His boss insists he come with him to the command center. He watches the ship land. When he sees Michael pop out, throw down his helmet like he made a touchdown and throw his hands up, he feels like the breath he’s been holding for the six months it’s taken to get back to earth can finally be released. Michael is okay. Everyone is okay. He staggers from the room.

“I’m gonna just—five minutes,” he says. He’s woken up every night certain the news will come in that Michael is dead. He has to go to a second funeral. Michael is fine. He’s dizzyingly exhausted with the thought. He drops onto the couch. It will be hours before he sees him. “Five minutes,” he tells himself and closes his eyes.

He wakes up to the smell of hazelnut coffee.

He opens his eyes, already knowing what he’s going to see. All the ways he thought about this going, Michael crouching there in a NASA onesie with his hair wet and two cups of coffee isn’t it. Alex carefully sits up, afraid that this is a dream. But Michael stays every time he blinks. When he’s sitting, Michael holds out the coffee cup.

“A small token of my—“

Alex throws himself into his arms. The coffee goes flying as Michael bands his arms around him, equally tight. Two years of text messages sent through a Rover and suddenly all of their other senses are flooding with each other. Alex never wants to let go of him and he can feel Michael trembling against him. Their faces are buried in each other necks and he’s never been so glad they are the same height.

“Thank you, thank you,” Michael breathes into his neck and Alex clutches him closer.

“This was all you.”

“It wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t seen me.”

They pull back enough just enough to look at each other, taking in the differences. The reports all say how driven Michael has been with his recovery and Alex has been pushing harder at his own pt. In that moment he doesn’t think that it matters. He doesn’t care what either of them look like or what state they are in. He just wants Michael here. Michael presses his lips together, his eyes dragging to his lips. After everything, there’s something he immediately recognizes.

“You’re not seeing anyone, are you?” He says.

“No, this really infuriating guy named Captain Blonde Beard keeps texting me at 3am.”

Michael is still laughing when he kisses him.

This, Alex thinks, is more than worth the wait.

#michael guerin #alex manes #malex fic #malex fanfic #roswell new mexico #roswell nm fanfic #isobel evans #max evans #liz ortecho #max x liz #maria deluca #isobel x maria #kyle valenti #Jenna cameron

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spaceskam · 5 years

Text

my healing needed more than time

Summary: alex deciding they need to talk about the night in the shed

"Guerin," Alex announced as he stepped out of his truck at the junkyard.

Michael looked up from the fire pit and managed a small smile. He looked tired. After all the shit with Noah and Michael finding out there wasn't really a planet to go back to, he'd been spacey. He hadn't even been going to the bar to drink, he'd just been holing himself up. Everyone seemed vaguely confused by it, but Alex was the one blessed with his late night phone calls. Michael felt lost. And Alex was dead set on giving him somewhere to go. "Hey, Alex," Michael said softly. He was curled up on one of the lawn chairs with a blanket draped around him. His eyes were trained on the fire pit in front of him and Alex couldn't help but think he looked like a child. Alex sat in the chair beside him. "I've been thinking. I'm sort of tired of this whole, ‘just friends’ thing. We know each other and I… would really like taking it a bit further if you want to.” Alex said. That was the easy part. It was made easier by how down Michael was. Michael’s eyes focused on Alex.

“Yeah?” he whispered, sitting up a bit straighter. Alex smiled and resisted the urge to touch him. He wanted so badly to comfort him from the inevitable chaos in his head, but he wasn’t done talking.

“Yeah. But first, we need to talk about something.” Alex said softly. Michael nodded, his curls flopping as he scrambled to sit up. It was an odd picture. If Alex didn’t know better, he would’ve thought he was sitting across from teenage Michael. He almost didn’t want to bring up what he knew he had to. “That night… in the shed.”

And adult Michael was back.

“Alex, I‒”

“No, we need to talk about this. That’s where it started. That’s what… brought us together, but created this huge divide between us. We need to talk about it.” Alex insisted. Michael closed his eyes for a moment and Alex felt his body gravitate toward him a little. Maybe this was a bad time. Maybe Michael needed some more time. But, then again, ten years is a long time.

“Okay. Talk.” Michael decided, adjusting to sit up and face Alex completely. Alex took a deep breath, eying him carefully. He looked so fucking tired. But Alex had hope and if Michael was listening that meant he had some drive left in him too.

“Okay… So I just wanna start with saying I’m sorry about that night.” Alex began. Michael rolled his eyes, leaning back in the chair.

“Alex, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’m always going to feel like it was. I mean, I took you there. I told you it was safe and it wasn’t.”

“You didn’t know.”

“I should’ve though! We could’ve hooked up anywhere else, we could’ve gotten in your truck and went to the fucking desert, but instead, I took you to a place fifty feet away from my homophobic dad as if I didn’t know what the hell I was risking.” Alex vented. Michael furrowed his eyebrows, eying Alex carefully. Alex shifted under his gaze, trying hard to figure out what Michael was thinking. He usually never had to think about that. Michael was brutally honest, at least when it came to him. The idea of Michael not just filtering through this conversation was unexpected.

“Okay. If you knew what you were risking… Why did you take me there?” Michael asked calmly. Alex gulped, roughly being thrown back into his seventeen-year-old state of mind. That wasn’t nearly as pleasant as seeing Michael look that way.

“I-I don’t know. That’s just where I would bring guys if they wanted to hook up. They’d always be too scared to do it at their place because everyone was in the closet. You were in the closet.” Alex tried to explain, fumbling over an explanation that he struggled to find. Michael gave that cocky little smirk, making Alex feel small.

“I wasn’t in the closet. I didn’t know. And when I realized that’s what I felt towards you, I didn’t care. You gave me a place here, you gave me hope.” Michael admitted and Alex fell back in the chair as if he’d been hit in the chest. In a way, he had been. “But I get it, Alex, that was your safe space. When your dad came in that night, it was him invading your space. It was just the night that it was me‒it could’ve been anyone else.”

“But it wasn’t anyone else! It was you!” Alex argued, “Anyone else, I don’t think he would’ve even touched. I would’ve been embarrassed and anyone else would’ve bolted. But I… I was in love with you already. Yeah, maybe it was just with the way you made me feel, it wasn’t what it turned into, but I was seventeen and it was the kind of love you fucking tell your friends and write diaries about. And when you told me you liked me, that you really liked me, I couldn’t even fucking control myself. You were everything, Michael, and he knew that. He knew it the moment you didn’t run.”

“I don’t run. Not when it comes to you.” Michael admitted, licking his lips. Alex shook his head, forcing himself to look at the ground. “Listen, Alex, maybe he wouldn’t have touched anyone else, but so what? You just said it yourself, I didn’t run. I could’ve or I could’ve just watched when he put his hands on you, but I was in love with you too, Alex. I haven’t stopped loving you in that stupid seventeen-year-old way. I mean, it’s different now. I know you better, it feels… It’s an old love you make feel new whenever you give me a chance. That night did bring us together. It told me I was willing to fucking fight for you and I haven’t stopped.”

Alex felt his body deflate in the chair even more as tears clouded his eyes. His heart was thudded so loud in his chest he was scared it was going to burst out. Maybe he should’ve gotten a little drunk before this conversation. He knew Michael and he knew he was going to say some heart-stopping, pants-dropping shit.

“Why do you always have to word stuff like that?” Alex asked, his voice cracking in a way he wished he hadn’t. Michael reached out and placed his hand on Alex’s knee. His eyes zeroed in on it before deciding to place his hand over Michael’s. “I didn’t protect you.”

“And I didn’t protect you. I should’ve begged you to stay instead of just letting your dad force you to go to war. I just… I didn’t want to be the one holding you back.” Michael responded, turning over his hand and lacing it in Alex’s. He felt a smile pulling at his lips. They’ve never really held hands before.

“Okay, then… It’s my turn. Stay here. Don’t go off to some planet, don’t leave. As much as I know you feel alone, you’re not. Isobel, Max, Liz, Maria, they all want you here. I need you here. And I don’t think I’m holding you back, I think I’m convincing you not to do anything stupid.” Alex asked softly, leaning forward. Michael closed the space, their foreheads meeting.

Alex felt like a weight had been lifted as he stared at Michael. He understood what he meant by their love being something that seemed to constantly renew. It was exhausting. Every time he thought it was best to pull away, there Michael was, looking hot as ever and speaking words that sounded like he read them from a romance novel. But they weren’t, they were his and they were honest and they were for Alex. For a decade, Alex hadn’t known how to compete. He didn’t have words of romance to give, he couldn’t seem to wax poetic about his undying love, he just knew it was there and had to hope Michael understood when he touched him.

Today was only a little different.

“I want to be with you, Michael Guerin. I’m here, I’m willing, and I’m not going anywhere. I want to try again. I want to take you on dates and hold your hand and give you goodnight kisses, fuck, good morning kisses. I want to have breakfast with you and make our friends think we’re so cute it’s disgusting. I don’t want just the, the mind-blowing sex‒I want everything else. Please, stay here, and I will do my best to give you everything.” Alex promised, moving his hands to cup Michael’s face. He was smiling so bright it was borderline blinding. Alex would kill to keep that look on his face.

“Well, damn, private, sure know how to make a guy swoon.” Michael teased, squeezing Alex’s knee. Alex matched his smile, rolling his eyes before nudging his nose against Michael’s. “Alright, I’ll stay and we’ll start over. On one condition though.”

“Anything.” Alex agreed, shifting closer. He was beginning to wish they weren’t in lawn chairs. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing to sit on the edge of those and it put a whole lot of unneeded weight on his prosthetic. But he was fine sitting there if it meant staring at that smile on Michael’s face.

“I get to call you my boyfriend.” Michael’s hand gripped the lapels of Alex’s jacket. Alex grabbed Michael’s shirt, leading him as they both stood to their feet. Their breath melded, the wind hitting them as if trying to push them towards the airstream. It was surreal, being so close to Michael again. This time was more permanent. This was real.

They were going to make this work.

“Absolutely.”

#look at me writing stuff no one asked for #as if i dont have asks #i'll actually write those soon #malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #michael guerin fic #alex manes fic #roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico fic #rnm #rnm fic #roswell nm #roswell nm fic #inspired by the title which is from a line in atlas eight #2k word #my fic

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honeymoonjin · 5 years

Text

bts reaction - you’re an activist

A/N: requested by a lovely anon :)

Jin

on the surface, jin just takes the opportunity, as usual, to crack a few jokes at your expense

but practically the moment you decided you were going to cut down on single-use paper waste like paper towels and tissues because of the rampant deforestation going on across the planet, jin was quietly researching behind the scenes

some things were fine, like the fact that he always used his own chopsticks rather than the disposable wooden ones restaurants would give you

but on other points he realized just how much waste he was throwing away every day

it’s not until he pulls out an actual handkerchief out of his pocket to blow his nose with instead of the box of tissues right there that the members notice a change

they started to make fun of him for being an old man, but he just loudly defended himself with statistics on how much trees went into making tissues every year

jin won’t be going out on the streets and marching to parliament and doing the nitty gritty work that you felt a calling to do, but he’s taken these small domestic sacrifices completely on board and you couldn’t be prouder

more so that instead of just following you, he’s been doing his own research and even coming up with ideas to improve things more

you just about got down on your knees and proposed right then and there when you came home one day to see he had color-coded microfiber rags and dish towels so that you could stop using paper towels all the time

(though you’re a little concerned that one day he’s going to want to come up with a way to get rid of toilet paper)

even as he struggles with being more mindful of some things, others are a bonus

you don’t want to keep using condoms as it’s a huge waste, so you get an IUD and jin just about cries in happiness the first time he gets to have sex without a condom and come inside you

it makes everything else worth it, not that he could tell that to his members

Yoongi

yoongi is such a blunt, straightforward person that it makes sense that his girlfriend would be the same

even though south korea is very traditional and deeply homophobic, even though his own reputation in the eyes of those older generations is nose-diving, he has the proudest beam on his face every time he sees you protesting for LGBT+ rights

one time, you were going on strike after a BigHit employee from the same department as you was fired once he filed to have his name and gender in the registry changed to reflect himself accurately

the whole building, but particularly both BTS and TxT had been given explicit instructions not to go out the front doors where you all stood, and most definitely not to interact or publicly comment on it

but yoongi took a little backbone from jin and ignored that stupid rule completely

every morning he stopped by with more heat packs and some breakfast in thermoses, in the evenings he would take away the blankets that had gone slightly frosty and replace them with new ones so that you wouldn’t freeze overnight

and not just for you, yoongi wanted to do the same for every single one of the thirteen of you standing outside, because he wasn’t allowed to be there himself and he wanted to support it in any way he could

of course some fans stopped stanning bts after they knew one of the members openly supported trans rights, but those that stayed had a deeper respect for them, and he was only too happy to get rid of the close-minded ones

in fact, he knows that you being so fiercely supportive in that arena is what’s gotten a lot of the members to trust you and get along with you quickly

on a general level, it means that they all know how kind and loving you are because of your passion for human rights, so they can feel comfortable being their honest selves

but yoongi knows on a deeper level that some members have gone up to you with questions about their sexuality

just like treating namjoon like an english encyclopedia, they treat you like a doctor who can diagnose any sexual orientation

you won’t tell yoongi any specifics, since it’s not your secret to tell, and he respects you for that, but he 100% noticed that jimin has gotten a million times more touchy and more cheery in his day to day life, and that hoseok now wears a lot more pink, purple and blue

Hoseok

hoseok feels a little stupid sometimes, especially when he listens to you preparing your speeches and he only understands about half of the words you used, or when you give him statistics that blow his mind

and so for a while you sort of pull back around him, worried that he is a little alienated by it

but the one night you wake up beside him because of a strange glow in the bedroom, only to see him glued to his phone with headphones in, watching one of the seminars you gave about a month ago on the effects of climate change in third world countries

you gently take the phone away, giving him a fright in the process, and tell him to just go to sleep, that you’ll explain the gist of it in the morning

from that point on, it never fails to warm your heart watching an earnest hobi do his absolute best to understand the PhD-level chemistry and economics concepts that you talk about in your lectures

he’s a very busy man, so for the most part he has to get you to tell him about them later, but one day when you’re teaching a foundation-level chemistry class you see him in the back row in a bucket hat and a face mask

when you ask him about it, he just tells you he’s trying to understand better because he doesn’t feel like he can keep up

he’s been known to brag to the other members about his smart girlfriend using completely incorrect facts that he thought he had remembered from one of your talks

there’s also a nearly twenty minute compilation on YouTube of all the times Hoseok brings you up out of nowhere: on an episode of Bon Voyage, the boys only have a certain amount of money for groceries and suddenly Hobi is waxing poetic about purchasing power; in interviews when they’re asked how they relax after a long day, or what their hobbies are, he’ll immediately jump up and declare that he enjoys reading up on precipitation or combustion; quite often in Run episodes, if another member does something clever, Hobi will make sure to mention that you’re smart too

and one of the proudest moments of Hobi’s life outside of BTS is when he walks across that graduation stage of the university you teach at with a degree in Chemistry

the event is live streamed for those that can’t attend, and the platform just about crashes when eight million ARMY tune in to watch him get his degree, sending screenshots on Twitter of you tearing up happily in your closing speech and Hoseok breaking out of line to give you a big hug

Namjoon

human rights has always been an important thing for the both of you

in fact, the UN conference was where you two met

you were speaking about the horrors of human trafficking and he was with BTS talking about their campaign

he went up to you afterwards and expressed how moving your speech was, and soon enough the two of you are dating pretty seriously

the one problem for namjoon is that now he never feels like he’s doing enough

you have to constantly reassure him that being in a group and spreading his message to the world is so important, that he has the unique gift of being able to speak and have the whole world listen

but still you know he feels guilty when he comes home from a hard day of work and you’re on the computer at three in the morning wearing an embroidered blouse and pajama pants, perfectly styled hair and fuzzy bed socks, talking to high-ups in governments all over the world about what they could be doing to fight the trafficking regime

who is he to call himself an activist for making some songs and getting to perform in front of adoring fans, when you’re fighting this very real, very serious fight every day?

it takes a while for those feelings of inadequacy to go away, but when they do, he’s left with nothing but pride for the work you’re doing

the hardest moment in his life is probably when you flew out of Seoul to join four girls who had been liberated and were in witness protection

you weren’t allowed any electronics, so you couldn’t communicate with him at all, and it was almost two months before you returned

but when you did, the passion in your eyes blazed brighter than it ever had before, and you were so inspired that for nights you two would stay awake til the early hours because you couldn’t stop marveling at how brave and positive those young women were after all that they had been through

as hard as it was, namjoon had to learn to accept that this was your calling just as much as music was his, and he supported you as any good boyfriend should

Jimin

jimin kinda struggles a bit

mostly because your fight for female education quite often takes you to developing countries, often for six months at a time, and the distance is really hard on him

he loves how headstrong and passionate you are, but fuck he misses you and wishes he didn’t have to cuddle his hyungs just to sleep at night

he wants to talk about you on talk shows because he’s so proud of you, but it upsets him when he thinks about you being gone

the one plus is that it makes the time you’re back with him so much more special

for his birthday, you arrange secretly with namjoon and yoongi to come back early and surprise him

you had been doing work in ghana for just under three months when the school you were building had received an influx of funding from a mysterious donor, and the project was finished in another two weeks

jimin’s birthday at that point was a couple days away, so you gave him a call to wish him a good one and made some excuse about going out of cell service for a bit, and that you wouldn’t be able to phone again until the week after his birthday

you almost broke right then and told him the truth when he started sobbing on the phone

after yoongi confirmed that he’d booked the flights, he sent you a text saying hurry up!! jimin is getting snot on all my clothes

you feel a little guilty for lying, but you know it’ll be worth it when you arrive

namjoon’s taken jimin out of the house to ‘cheer him up’ when you arrive

you quickly hug the other five and catch up before they head back

you hide behind jin, but you can see them in the mirror in the lounge

jimin’s melancholic and depressed, but he’s trying to smile sadly at the other members, before frowning at the way they’re all hovering around suspiciously

you can’t take it any more

you jump out and run to him, calling out his name happily, and he immediately bursts into tears, clutching onto you so tightly you can’t breathe

the two of you are stuck like glue for the rest of the afternoon, and it’s not until you go to grab some more snacks from the kitchen that yoongi sneaks away too and thanks you for coming back

you remind him that it’s just because of the luck that someone decided to invest in the project when they did

he laughs awkwardly and goes ‘...yeah, about that’

turns out all six other members had pitched in to fill up the rest of the GoFundMe page, which is why the donor name you received was so weird - jeon seoyoohonatae

those fuckin idiots

Taehyung

of course taehyung supports your ‘adopt don’t shop’ mindset

of course he does

but when you can’t restrain yourself from saving every dog you find on death row at the local shelter, he realizes maybe you haven’t thought this through

every time he visits you, there’s a solid wall of at least nine dogs and more around the house and backyard

you had to get a pretty expensive permit just to let them all live on your property and the house has smelt like dog food for months

that’s not gucci

taehyung to the rescue

now, we all know tae has a penchant for liking to show off a little, and so his solution is to buy a large patch of land (conveniently, much closer to the dorm than your old place) and build a house for you with a built-in doggy day care

now the pooches have decent space and facilities, and he’s even sent out an ad for part-time workers

normally you don’t like accepting his money, but you remind yourself that it’s for the dogs, not you (it isn’t, tae is totally doing this to get in your good books) so you move houses and take all your dogs with you

for a while it’s basically a hole for tae to throw money in, but as your reputation starts to get out around the area, you have people either looking to adopt dogs from you, or let their dogs stay there instead of a kennel

after four or five months, you’re starting to make a healthy profit

tae asks you not to tell anyone that he flat-out bought and built it for you, but you don’t know why he bothers

when he spends all of his free time there training the dogs and shooting a million and one videos with them to tweet

“here’s Monkey learning how to roll over” “Scooby just stole my socks!” “kkk, Honey can run so fast with her three legs ^^”

of course, his publicity only makes the place more popular, and soon enough you get to quit your office job to be a dog rehomer full time, and you’ve never been happier

Jungkook

for the first month or so of dating, he had fondly nicknamed you ‘tree-hugger’ in his phone

like with his hyungs, he tends to show you affection with fond teasing, so you knew never to take it personally

jungkook, like some of the other members, would want to learn as much as he could about your passions

just like he studies english a lot to help namjoon, he wants to research animal cruelty so that he can be on level with you

you can guarantee that within a month of him learning about which brands were cruelty free he was educating the make-up stylists and refusing to wear certain brands

he once flat-out scolded hoseok for wearing a fur accessory on a v-live, saying how irresponsible it was

hoseok was pretty understanding (and aware of their international audience) so he took it off and apologized, but was a little put-out that jungkook felt the need to do it publicly

you have to have a talk with him that night in bed, whispering in the darkness of your bedroom, that there’s a time and place for everything, and that it would’ve been better to just talk to hoseok in private

however, jungkook most certainly Did Not learn his lesson, as the next day on twitter army are freaking out at how hot jungkook was when he got all self-righteous

he now takes every opportunity to show off how strongly he cares about animal rights, and will often shoot little videos of him washing his face with cruelty-free products and talking about how good they are, or bragging about how his birthday presents to the members were all from fair trade businesses

for a long time, for him at least, it’s about how people see him

he wants to show you he is being thoughtful, and he wants to show army that he’s a good person

but eventually genuine interest will kick in, and he’ll be a passionate activist just like you

#bts reaction #bts fic #bts scenario #bts x reader

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miguel-manbemel · 5 years

Text

Aspects & Fanfics Ep. 13: A Journey to Roman’s Kingdom - The Ultimate Sanders Crossover

This is the 13th episode in the Aspects & Fanfics blog, based on Sanders Sides by Thomas Sanders & Joan. It’s incredible to think how from a tiny little idea I had two weeks ago, a 29 page story could have been created. This is by far the new record for the longest episode in the fic, Virgil’s Revelation was only 22 pages long.

This episode is a homage, not only to Sanders Sides, but to all of Thomas’ career as a whole, as it is a crossover that features most, if not all, of his characters, from the Vines, the Shorts, Cartoon Therapy... I’ve been following his work back since late 2014, after all, and I haven’t seen many fics about things different from Sanders Sides, so I thought that they also deserved their place of recognition. There will be absences, like Sleep, but since he’s already appeared on his own in a previous episode, I don’t think it would be much trouble.

Okay, I’m not making this even longer with a long intro, so here we go. As usual, you can read previous entries of the Aspects & Fanfics blog right here. And I hope you enjoy this rollercoaster that has happened to be this episode. Until next time.

SYNOPSIS: After casually mentioning that Roman has indeed his own kingdom inside the Mind Palace, the Kingdom of Sandersia, populated with all the characters that Thomas has ever created, Thomas and the others decide to take on a journey to visit the kingdom, which will let them know in person characters like the shorts guys, Dr. Picani and many others. However, Roman is hiding a secret about his past in the kingdom that hasn’t told any of the other Sides.

WARNINGS: There’s more Prinxiety in the fic as the story goes on, and more unrequited Anxceit. As I said, this is a rollercoaster. It has moments of happiness, moments of fun, moments of emotion, and moments of angst, including mentions to the death of a beloved one for Roman and hints to homophobic reactions from Roman’s family against his coming out in the past.

In memory of Spanish director Narciso Ibáñez Serrador (1935-2019). You were such a huge influence in my life. Thanks to you I discovered my love for Broadway-like musicals and my love for editing. You and your work will never be forgotten. Rest in peace.

EPISODE INDEX

[Thomas and Joan are sitting on the couch. Thomas has just finished reading something on his laptop to Joan]

THOMAS: And so, this is the outline draft for the next Cartoon Therapy episode. What do you think?

JOAN: Well, it definitely has some good things… I loved the topic we’re discussing…

THOMAS: Okay…

JOAN: I loved the cartoon show that’s going to be the base for that…

THOMAS: I thought you’d like it.

JOAN: I also loved your ideas for the new patients that join Dot, Larry and Elliott. They’ll make a good story and they look cute. [takes a deep breath] But…

THOMAS: But?

JOAN: I don’t quite get the redesign you’ve applied on Dr. Picani, Thomas. I mean, he would look cool and all, but… having him wearing eye-shadow, his hair over his forehead, a purple necktie and jacket and suddenly speaking with a groveling voice… isn’t it a bit out of character for him?

THOMAS: Mmm… maybe?

[intro sequence]

THOMAS: What is up everybody?

JOAN: Again doing your videos?

THOMAS: Yes, Joan, you’ll have to get used to it.

JOAN: Okay, okay, you’re your own person…

THOMAS: What you have said about that redesign, Joan, it’s got me thinking. I certainly thought it looked cool while I was writing it…

JOAN: It made more sense in your head, right?

THOMAS: …sort of, now that you’ve said it. Now that I’ve seen it written, I can see it wouldn’t have worked at all. I don’t know why I’ve written that… well, to be honest, I think I do, but I’d have to check it out first, because this is not the first time this happens.

JOAN: Does that mean that you’re calling them again?

[Thomas leaves the laptop on the couch, Joan and him get up and go to Thomas’ usual spot]

THOMAS: Yep, exactly that. [yelling] Roman? Could you come here for a minute, please?

[Roman rises up, he’s showing a distracted starry eyed face]

ROMAN: Did you call, Thomas? Oh, greetings, Joan.

JOAN: Hi, Roman.

THOMAS: As a matter of fact, Roman, yes, I called you.

ROMAN: How may I serve you?

THOMAS: Where exactly did you get your idea for Dr. Picani’s redesign in the draft that I’ve just written?

ROMAN: It looks cool, doesn’t it? I knew you would like it.

THOMAS: Come on, Roman. Proofread it. We can’t use that design, it’s out of character for Dr. Picani.

ROMAN: [a little offended] Excuse me? I think he’d look like the prettiest creature in this world, other than me, [pedantically] but my design is unrepeatable.

THOMAS: Let me guess… You’re talking about your boyfriend Virgil?

JOAN: [surprised] Boyfriend?

THOMAS: It’s a long story, Joan, I’ll tell you later.

ROMAN: [smiling] How did you guess, Thomas?

VIRGIL: [rising up] I’m sorry, Thomas, I really am. I told him that it didn’t seem right to send you that design, but he wouldn’t listen.

ROMAN: Virge, honey, I have set as my supreme quest to make you leave your self-deprecating issues behind, and as my name is Roman Graham Alexander McDonald Carlos Sanders III, Prince and Heir of the Kingdom of Sandersia, I’m gonna fulfill it. Even if I have to put your marvelous face all over the world so that everyone can admire your beauty…

VIRGIL: [distressed] Please, Roman… Don’t… I mean it… Don’t do that.

JOAN: Thank God we don’t have to memorize Roman’s full name…

THOMAS: Okay, Roman. We get it. You love Virgil more than anything in this world, and that’s sweet and all, but you can’t let love blurry your common sense. You can’t redesign all my characters to look like Virgil, as if there was some sort of failure on the Matrix from my stories’ universe. Don’t you see it doesn’t make any sense?

ROMAN: [reluctantly] Okay, maybe you’re right, I guess…

VIRGIL: [relieved] Thank God…

THOMAS: Wait a second… did you say earlier… Kingdom of Sandersia?

JOAN: Your abilities of attention to details and memorization will always blow my mind, Thomas…

ROMAN: Yes, Thomas, it’s my homeland, and one day I’ll be its ruler.

THOMAS: You had never spoken about your homeland, Roman. Up until today, I didn’t even know that you had your own kingdom.

ROMAN: Well, Thomas, there’s no royalty without a kingdom, right?

JOAN: Tell that to the French Bourbons… Or the Greek royal family… Or the Burger King…

THOMAS: And how does your kingdom look like, Roman? Is it beautiful?

ROMAN: Very beautiful, but in a way, you already know it, Thomas.

THOMAS: What? What do you mean?

ROMAN: Let’s see if I can convey it in words… Have you ever heard about “The Neverending Story”?

THOMAS: Yes, I loved the first movie.

ROMAN: I don’t mean the movies, but the book by Michael Ende.

LOGAN: [rising up, with a squeaking yell] BOOK!?

VIRGIL: [jumps scared] WHAT THE F…! [putting his hand over his heart] Holy sssshoot… you scared me so bad… Again…

LOGAN: [ignoring Virgil, rising his hand, doing little jumps, overexcited] I did read it! I did read it! Pick me! Pick me!

ROMAN: Okay, okay, Teach, do your thing…

LOGAN: [with a face of contained happiness over sharing what he knows, masked with seriousness] It tells the story of a young boy named Bastian Balthazar Bux, who enters through some special book titled “The Neverending Story” into the land of Fantasia, which is made up of all of humanity’s fantasy. Every dream any human had, any wish, any fantastic creation they made or anything they wrote… Anything any human had ever conceived, it existed in Fantasia.

THOMAS: I see…

ROMAN: Sandersia follows the same principle, Thomas. It is made up of all of your creations. From the first poem you wrote as a teen to the latest Cartoon Therapy episode you created just now, including the Vines, the shorts, the fictional one-off YouTubes… any character you created, they’re all my subjects and my royal family rules them with wisdom.

LOGAN: So you’re like their Childlike Empress? It suits you… cause you’re a brat sometimes…

[Roman emits some offended Princey noises]

THOMAS: Man… I’d love to see that place.

JOAN: Me too…

[Joan and Thomas look at each other, both of their faces lighten up and they show a wide smile]

JOAN: Did you have the same idea I just had?

THOMAS: I think so… there’s some leftover pizza in the fridge and I’m hungry. I’ll share.

JOAN: [beat] I guess you didn’t. [sighs] I was thinking if we could go to Sandersia to see how it looks. Could we, Roman?

THOMAS: Hey, that’s a good idea! Could we?

ROMAN: [shows a little worried face] Sure. Joan can enter the Mind Palace, so they can also enter Sandersia.

VIRGIL: Is there any risk we should be worried about, Roman? You looked concerned.

ROMAN: [hiding his concern] Nah, I don’t think so. Everything should be safe there. And it could be fun. [frowns] But we must stay away from the Royal Castle.

THOMAS: Why?

ROMAN: I have… personal reasons, Thomas. I’d wish to keep them private for the moment if you don’t mind.

THOMAS: Okay, as you wish, Roman.

DECEIT: [appearing] I’m not missing it either. A world made of things that in the end are all lies? It looks like a paradise…

ROMAN: I don’t like the way you’ve described my country, Deceit.

DECEIT: Sorry. I think we should call the others. Honesty got really angry when we didn’t call him the last time. Patton, definitely won’t want to miss it, and it could be a good group experience for Wrath to get fully integrated into the team.

THOMAS: I agree with Deceit. Is it okay if we all go?

ROMAN: Of course it is, Thomas. Be my guests.

THOMAS: Okay. Patton, Honesty, Wrath! Everyone come here now, please!

[they all rise up]

PATTON: Hi, kiddos! I was baking some cookies, but I never reject the opportunity of seeing you all.

HONESTY: I was in the middle of preparing a teapot with a new tea mix I just invented…

WRATH: And I was watching “Jesus Christ Superstar”. I was in the middle of the “I Don’t Know How to Love Him” song…

ROMAN: Okay, if you want, you can go back to your chores, but I was wondering if you wanted to visit my homeland, Sandersia. We’re all going on a trip there.

PATTON: Yay! I have some cookies left in my pocket, so I can wait.

HONESTY: And I didn’t put the pot on the stove yet, so I’m ready.

WRATH: And it’s like the 57th time I watched that movie anyway, so I can join in too.

ROMAN: Very good.

THOMAS: So… how do we get there?

ROMAN: First, we need to get into my room, the door to Sandersia is over there.

THOMAS: Okay. Let’s go, then.

[everybody sinks down. There’s a white flash and they appear in Roman’s room. The room looks exactly the same as the last time, except that the forest of thorns in Virgil’s spot has been replaced by a huge rose tree full of purple roses]

THOMAS: I like the rose tree, Roman.

ROMAN: [sighs, looking at Virgil with a romantic glance] Me too. Purple roses started blooming one after the other when we…

VIRGIL: [nervously diverting the conversation, while blushing at the same time] Umm… Where is the door to Sandersia, Roman?

ROMAN: Oh, right, right. Well, the door to Sandersia is the front door of the apartment, of course.

JOAN: That’s it? So easy?

ROMAN: What did you expect?

JOAN: I was expecting some sort of magic portal full of light and beauty… like in fairy tales.

ROMAN: Well, sorry, but I thought that a good old door was the most practical thing to use. Besides, magic light is so expensive nowadays. And Thomas can already tell you that portals are a little bit dangerous by experience.

THOMAS: True. I almost broke a knee the last time. Don’t ask…

JOAN: [confused] Okay…

THOMAS: Well, if Sandersia is behind that door, let’s go.

[Thomas and Joan go to the front door. There’s a close-up shot of Thomas’ hand opening the door. Then a close-up of his face looking at the exterior. Then another one of Joan’s face of surprise]

THOMAS: Oh, my goodness…

JOAN: This is so… f… [bleep] ...ng… beautiful.

[camera zooms out quickly far away. Roman’s door is installed in what looks like a huge tree in the middle of a prairie, everything looks like taken from a Pixar movie, in CG animation. Thomas, Joan and the Sides go through the door, close it behind them and take a few steps forward]

PATTON: This is all so beautiful!

VIRGIL: It really looks like a Pixar movie or a recent Disney feature, like Tangled or Brave. It’s all really gorgeous.

ROMAN: I’m glad that you like my homeland, guys. It fills me with pride.

PATTON: [looking upwards, he gasps] Look, Thomas! Look at the sun! But be careful or you’ll get blind.

ROMAN: [invokes some special glasses for eclipses and gives one to Thomas and other to Joan] There you go.

THOMAS: [wearing the glasses] Thanks, Roman. [looks upwards to the sun, then overexcited yell] WOOOOOOOW! It’s Sun!

JOAN: Holy sh… [bleep] ! But it was me who created the special effects! And there he is, exactly as I made him in my laptop! Incredible!

THOMAS: I know! How can he be here in the flesh? Well, in the helium…

SUN: [from the sky] Greetings! Nice to meet you, Supreme Creators.

THOMAS: That’s… us?

ROMAN: Of course it is you, Thomas. You and Joan. You created him, didn’t you?

THOMAS: Um… Hi, Sun!

MOON: [rising up from behind a mountain, with a happy childlike voice] Hi, Thomas! It’s me, Moon!

THOMAS: [taking his glasses off, with a happy voice] Moooon!

SUN: [lashing out] Not again! This was my time! He was talking to me, now!

THOMAS: Okay, don’t fight, guys, you’re both celestial supreme entities, you need to be kind to each other.

MOON: [happily] Yes, let’s be friends!

SUN: [reluctantly] If you say so… Oh, there are some clouds coming to cover me. Well, I’m powerful, but not enough to defeat the powers of Florida weather, so I’m afraid it’s time for me to go…

THOMAS: Florida weather? I thought we were in Sandersia.

ROMAN: Thomas, Sandersia is in the Mind Palace, and the Mind Palace is in you, and you are in Florida, so Sandersia is in Florida right now.

THOMAS: Got it, a little complicated, but got it.

SUN: Until next time.

MOON: Bye, Sun! Bye, Thomas!

THOMAS: [waving his hand] Bye, guys!

[The clouds cover Sun, and Moon goes back behind the mountain]

THOMAS: That was wild!

ROMAN: Well, Thomas, it’s just the beginning. Let’s go.

[Thomas and the others start walking through a little road. After a while they get to a little neighborhood full of houses, each with its own front-yard]

THOMAS: This looks a lot like my town of Gainesville.

ROMAN: Maybe because it was inspired on it, Thomas… Oh, look who’s coming.

THOMAS: But… that’s me! Well, it’s been ages since I last wore that shirt with red and navy blue stripes, but still…

ROMAN: Don’t be fooled, Thomas. Of course everyone is going to look similar to you, you’ve played most of the characters in your stories. But here, each is their own person.

THOMAS: Then who is he?

STORYTIME GUY: [with his trademark narrator voice] Storytime! Thomas was confused because he didn’t know who I was until I nailed this narration.

THOMAS: Oh, you’re the Storytime Guy! Oh, it’s so weird, I feel as if I was talking to myse… never mind, I’ve just realized I already do this everyday with you, guys.

STORYTIME GUY: What’s up, Thomas? How are you doing?

THOMAS: Oh, I’m fine, I’m fine… And you?

STORYTIME GUY: Well, I’ve been out of work lately, but I don’t complain. It’s good to have some me time. The Vine years were so frenetically busy…

THOMAS: Yeah, I know. Viewers still love and remember you and would wish for you to keep on appearing in the shorts. It’s too bad that people don’t fall so easily into the narrations anymore. Now, they see me coming from miles away, so I just stopped trying. I guess it’s the price of getting known online. It was easier to sneak into them in the early years. Now the only potential victim I have left is my own mom.

STORYTIME GUY: It’s okay. I’ll always be here, as long as the Vines keep on existing and people remember me. Well, gotta go now. Have a nice day in Sandersia, guys, and I hope to see you again soon.

THOMAS: And I hope I’m able to give you more material to narrate soon. Bye, Storytime Guy…

STORYTIME GUY: [leaving] Bye, Thomas! Take it easy, guys and non binary pal!

PATTON: Wow! The Storytime Guy is so nice!

JOAN: He was played by Thomas and based on the real life Thomas, what else did you expect?

PATTON: True.

THOMAS: Aww! You’re too sweet, guys.

ROMAN: Okay, let’s keep going.

[the gang keep advancing around the neighborhood. After turning a corner, another person bumps into Thomas]

THOMAS: Awe! I’m so sorry.

TRAILER VOICE: [with his low voice] In a world, where you think you can cross a corner safely, and some fool bumps into you anyway…

PATTON: Oi, no need to be rude, it was an accident!

VIRGIL: It’s the Trailer Voice Guy… My, I wonder how they can identify each other here in Sandersia. The same car drive license could be equally valid for everyone, it seems, they all have the same face…

THOMAS: Something tells me that perhaps I should try to do more shows with different actors…

JOAN: Well, we’ve already started. But you’ve done so much acting all on your own… I don’t know how you can cope with having so much weight over your shoulders, Thomas.

THOMAS: I’m surrounded by a good team of incredibly amazing friends and incredibly talented people, you can be certain that helps.

JOAN: I’ll take my share of that compliment, thank you.

THOMAS: Oh, where’s the trailer voice guy?

[They realize the Trailer Voice guy left while they were speaking and is nowhere to be seen]

THOMAS: Okay, never mind. Let’s just keep going.

VIRGIL: Roman…

ROMAN: Yes, sweetheart?

VIRGIL: Firstly, don’t call me like that until we’re alone. And secondly, what’s that shadowy hill that can be seen in the distance?

ROMAN: That’s beyond our borders, we must never go there, Simba… I mean, Virgil.

THOMAS: Why?

ROMAN: Well, that area is where your impression characters live. You know, Stewie Griffin, Kermit the Frog, Stitch, Goofy… It’s also home of the characters you portrayed on-stage, like J.D., Prospero, Javert, Don Lockwood, Ko-Ko, Leo Bloom, and so many others. We don’t hold the copyright of these characters, so it would be tricky if they appeared on this video…

LOGAN: Talk about meta…

THOMAS: But… isn’t Sandersia the place of my own creations? Why are these characters here if I didn’t create them?

ROMAN: Thomas, don’t underestimate an actor’s labor. Do you think that a character is created solely on what a writer has written? That’s a solid base, but it’s just the beginning. The director with his vision of the character, and the actor with his work of bringing life into it, adapting himself to the character, but also adapting the character to his own range and needs… that’s also a part of the creative process of a character. So you have been a part of the creation of these characters, at least of your versions of the characters. It’s only natural that they live here.

THOMAS: Okay… [sighs] It’s a pity I won’t get to see Taylor’s Herbert. That would have been great… But you’re right, Roman, we don’t want a copyright strike. Let’s go.

[they keep walking, and after a while, they get in front of a house that looks quite familiar to Thomas]

THOMAS: But… that’s my house!

ROMAN: No, it isn’t, Thomas. Look carefully, and you too, Patton.

PATTON: Me?

[they all sneak on a window, they see that the Dad Guy, Mom and the children are there inside having lunch]

PATTON: But… that’s me!

ROMAN: No, Patton, that’s the Dad Guy. A character that appears on the Vines. Like the Prince Guy and the Teacher Guy. People think that we were inspired on them… but in fact it’s them who were inspired on us. Thomas has known us for all of his life and he used our likenesses to design these characters. [to the camera, breaking the fourth wall] You didn’t see that one coming, did you?

LOGAN: Well, Thomas, perhaps we should start sharing a piece of the shorts’ royalties, shouldn’t we?

THOMAS: I mean, the Vines don’t give much, since they’re defunct, but anyway, you all are me, so in a way we’re already sharing royalties, aren’t we?

PATTON: Oh, I love that scene. A beautiful family all gathered around the table, telling dad jokes… Oh, I wish I had a family like that…

ROMAN: Patton, aren’t we family already?

PATTON: Of course we are, kiddo. But I mean with a partner and children of my own to raise. I’ve always called myself a dad… but I have the feeling that it’s only a nickname Thomas placed on me. The truth is I have no recollection of my children or the supposed couple that gave birth to them or adopted them with me, whatever. I called myself a dad just by inertia, and I tried to live up to that name being a dad for you all guys. However I’ve started doubting lately if I’m really a father at all and I should just back up a little bit and just be more grounded.

VIRGIL: Wanna know a secret?

PATTON: What is it, kiddo?

VIRGIL: I… am your son.

PATTON: [little bittersweet smile] Thank you, kiddo. It fills me with joy that you would consider yourself as such, and I’ve always considered you as such myself, but at the end of the day I always remember we’re just best friends…

VIRGIL: I’m not just being kind… dad. I really mean it. Think about it. When I was a Dark Side, I was mainly anxiety, and anxiety is a feeling. And who’s the one that gives “birth” to feelings in this house? It’s you. So, technically, you are my real father.

PATTON: But that can’t be, kiddo. You appeared in Thomas’ life way before I did.

VIRGIL: So did Roman, and I was in the Mind Palace way before him, I only took more time to rise up before Thomas. The same happened to you. Feelings are the first thing that a human has when they’re born, they’re nothing but an 8 pound ball of feelings…

LOGAN: [disgusted retching] Huurl… [after Honesty frowns at him] Excuse me.

PATTON: Then… you are my son… for real? [tearing up] Why didn’t you tell me earlier?

VIRGIL: Because I wasn’t sure yet. After all, I was a Dark Side and you were a Light Side, so it didn’t make sense that I was your son… But now that we’ve discovered that in origin I was a Light Side… Suddenly all the pieces of the puzzle started fitting in… just like you said in the puzzle song.

PATTON: I wish I would have been there to take care of you all of your life, to rise you as my son. Oh, all you’ve been through in the Dark Realm without me to take care of you and defend you… I’m so, so sorry, Virgil. I wasn’t there when you needed me…

VIRGIL: You have nothing to be sorry about. Ever since we finally met, you have put yourself into your father role, even when you didn’t know the truth. And even when I tried to resist it, there was always… how to describe it… this sort of “pulling sensation” inside of me that made me want to be closer to you, that made me feel better when I was with you more than with anyone else. I guess you were bound to take care of me, and I was bound to love you, dad, ever since the first time we met.

[Virgil hugs Patton and Patton squeezes his son]

PATTON: I love you, my emo son.

VIRGIL: And I love you too, my wonderful dad.

JOAN: This emotional moment just came out of nowhere… [cleaning a tear from their eye] Warn a dude next time, for f… [bleep] …k‘s sake!

ROMAN: Well, be warned then, Joan, because here comes another round of tears… [to Patton] If you’re really his father, Patton… then I must take this time to ask you and Virgil something.

PATTON: What is it kiddo?

VIRGIL: Roman?

ROMAN: Patton, would you… give me your son’s hand?

VIRGIL: [in shock] What?

ROMAN: And Virgil… [taking a little box out of his pocket and kneeling before Virgil, who covers his mouth in shock] … I know you don’t like weddings, but… [opening the box and revealing a golden ring with a shiny purple amethyst on it] it would make me the happiest aspect on the Mind Palace if you would marry me.

VIRGIL: [overwhelmed, unable to react] I… I…

THOMAS: Oh, my gosh…

PATTON: Answering your question, Roman, whatever Virgil decides, I will support it no matter what, but if it was up to me, of course I’d give you his hand. I couldn’t think of a better son in law for me. But it’s Virgil’s choice and only his.

ROMAN: Virgil?

VIRGIL: I mean… you know I don’t like weddings, at all…

ROMAN: [showing a little dejected face] I understand…

VIRGIL: …but I certainly want to spend the rest of my life with you as my husband. If there’s no choice other than going through a wedding to achieve that, I’ll willingly take the sacrifice. Of course I’ll marry you.

[Roman shows a face of endless happiness. Then puts the ring on Virgil’s finger and kisses him, then they hug each other. Deceit looks at the scene from the back, showing a smile as if he didn’t care but with a single sad tear sticking out of his human eye. Honesty and Wrath stand next to Deceit, discreetly put their hands on his shoulders and give him a friendly smile. Deceit gives a grateful but bittersweet smile back at them and doesn’t say a word. While hugging Roman, Virgil notices this exchange, but says nothing]

THOMAS: [happy yelling] Congratulations, guys!

DAD GUY: [from the window] Yes, congratulations, your Highness!

ROMAN: Oh, I’m sorry, Dad Guy, we didn’t want to bother you.

DAD GUY: It’s okay, it was like watching a good romantic movie right on our window, I won’t complain. Oh, you must be Patton!

PATTON: You know me?

DAD GUY: Of course I do. I was created on your image. But don’t stay out there, I know you’re cool but that doesn’t mean you must catch a cold to prove it.

THOMAS: Oh, we wouldn’t want to bother you. Besides, we need to keep going on our way.

DAD GUY: Oh, okay. If you say so. Enjoy your visit through Sandersia, Thomas.

THOMAS: Thank you, Dad Guy. It was nice meeting you.

PATTON: I have to come back here some day, we could share some dad jokes when we have the time.

DAD GUY: I’ll be waiting. Bye, kiddos!

[Thomas and the others get going. After some time, they get in front of what looks like a school]

THOMAS: I have the feeling I know who we can find in here. Don’t you, Logan?

LOGAN: I think I know who you’re referring to, Thomas. If it’s him, I can’t wait. He wears a necktie like I do, so he must be the most serious, level-headed individual you could ever mee…

[the Teacher Guy passes by in front of them, running. He’s carrying some balloons in his hand, laughing uncontrollably, while some students follow him running too]

LOGAN: [in shock] I mean… what? [nervously] Oh, well, I’m sure he’s using these balloons to explain some laws of physics, maybe the properties of helium gas. It has to be that. It has…

TEACHER GUY: [still running] I said I don’t wanna go to school!

STUDENT: [running behind him, trying to catch him] But you must! You are our teacher! Moreover, you’re the principal! And we need to know our exam results! Come back heere!

[Virgil looks at Logan’s face of shock and chortles]

LOGAN: [in frustration] Okay, I have seen enough of this…

THOMAS: I had forgotten how much different the Teacher Guy was from you, Logan…

LOGAN: Well, as far as I’m concerned, Thomas, you can forget that… tie-traitor again.

PATTON: Well, I like him.

THOMAS: Don’t get mad, Logan.

[a person approaches them. He looks at the Teacher Guy, still running in the distance, balloons in hand]

PERSON: What a freak…

THOMAS: Excuse me?

PERSON: [yelling] ...iiiing amazing bunch of balloons that charming fellow is carrying over there! [giggles] Colorful!

[then the person leaves running]

THOMAS: I think it was the Misleading Compliment’s Guy, wasn’t it?

VIRGIL: Yes, I think so.

THOMAS: Okay, let’s go, there’s still so much to see.

[the gang keeps on walking. After some time, they reach an office building]

THOMAS: Oh, my goodness… Joan, look at the sign at the door.

JOAN: [reading] Dr. Emile Picani, therapist. [gasps] Whoa! That’s amazing!

THOMAS: Should we come in?

JOAN: We don’t have an appointment, Thomas. It may be rude…

[the door opens. Elliott comes out of it, they almost trip on Joan]

ELLIOTT: I’m sorry…

JOAN: I’m sorry too…

ELLIOTT: Are you waiting to come in?

JOAN: Oh, we don’t have an appointment.

ELLIOTT: That’s okay. Dr. Picani has some free time, my session today has been shorter than expected.

JOAN: Really?

THOMAS: I hope it’s not for anything bad…

ELLIOTT: No, it isn’t. Today my sister is moving to college. I had an appointment set beforehand, so I just came in to warn Dr. Picani. We did an express session and that’s all. If you want to see him, you can right now, before his next patient.

JOAN: Okay, thank you. I think we will.

ELLIOTT: You two make a cute couple.

THOMAS: Oh, we’re… we’re not dating, we’re just friends.

ELLIOTT: [shrugs] Okay. I think Dr. Picani could also be efficient in solving issues between friends. Now, if you excuse me, I must go, or I’ll be late to my sister’s farewell. I hope we meet again, bye!

JOAN: That was weird… it felt as if I was talking to myself…

THOMAS: Tell me about it… Okay, we’re too many to enter the little office, how do we do this?

ROMAN: If you want, Thomas, we can get inside of you while you’re there.

THOMAS: I you want to, It’d be great.

ROMAN: Okay, we’ll be watching, Thomas.

[they all sink down]

THOMAS: Okay, let’s get in.

[Thomas and Joan enter the office. There’s a secretary in the reception]

SECRETARY: Do you have an appointment?

THOMAS: Well, as a matter of fact, we don’t, Elliott had told us that Dr. Picani had some free time and…

PICANI: [from the therapy room] It’s okay, Quill, let them in.

SECRETARY: Okay. Could you give me your names for the register?

THOMAS: Sure, I’m Thomas Sanders.

JOAN: And I’m Joan S.

SECRETARY: Very well, you can come in, it’s that door over there. You won’t get lost.

THOMAS: Thank you.

[Thomas and Joan cross the door and they find themselves in Picani’s office. Picani is there, smiling at them]

PICANI: New patients. Do you how do? Sit down, please.

THOMAS: Good afternoon, doctor.

JOAN: Hi.

[Thomas and Joan sit down]

PICANI: I couldn’t help but hear you from my window. You know Elliott, right?

JOAN: Oh, yes. You could say we’re almost like family.

PICANI: Yes, I see the resemblance… Is this your first time in therapy?

THOMAS: Well, not for me, I had to go to some therapy after a rough break-up I had a couple of years ago.

JOAN: For me, it’s the first time.

PICANI: And how would you describe the relationship between you two?

THOMAS: Oh, we’re just friends of many years, we’re not dating or anything. We also work together.

PICANI: I see… Are you currently in a relationship?

THOMAS: Not me. I’ve been single since the break-up.

JOAN: I am, with my partner Talyn.

PICANI: Oh, and it’s a happy relation?

JOAN: Yes, certainly. It’s them, their kittens their pet-rat and me.

PICANI: Aww! Just like Cinderella had their mice before she met her prince charming…

JOAN: Yes, you could say so…

PICANI: We don’t have much time, and Joan seems to be doing okay, so I wanna concentrate in you Thomas. How would you describe the outcome of your relationship.

THOMAS: Well, it was hard. It’s not easy to give up to your first love, you know?

PICANI: Was it a source of anxiety?

[Suddenly, Thomas is replaced on the seat by Virgil, it seems that only Joan notices the change, Picani doesn’t sport any reaction]

VIRGIL: Yes, it certainly was. Both in the time before and after the end of the relation, angst was pretty the norm in my life.

JOAN: … Virgil?

PICANI: I see. It seems that you loved this person, right?

[now it’s Patton who sits in the couch]

PATTON: Yes, all of my heart was devoted to him. That was the hardest part, allowing my heart to let him go. It took time, but I finally did it.

JOAN: …and Patton?

PICANI: And what do you hope to get from life in the love department, Thomas?

[Roman appears in the couch]

ROMAN: Oh, I’m still a sucker for romance, you know. At first I thought I would never get to experiment that feeling again, but little by little I have recovered the hope that there’s someone for me and that I will find him someday, when I least expect it. And if that doesn’t happen, it’s okay. I’m also lucky today to say that I love myself, and that’s enough.

JOAN: What is going on here?

PICANI: Do you have any plans for your future?

[Logan appears on the couch]

LOGAN: Of course I do. I mean, no one can plan his future in the long term, but I have some things planned for me in the short term, like trying to do bigger steps in my career, making sure that I have a proper, healthy lifestyle, et cetera.

JOAN: Okay, will anybody tell me what’s happening here?

[Thomas reappears on the couch]

THOMAS: What’s the matter, Joan? Are you okay?

JOAN: You tell me. Your Sides have been appearing in your place all of the time.

THOMAS: Have they? I didn’t even notice.

PICANI: I did, but I assumed it was some eccentricity of you, non Sandersians.

THOMAS: I guess I was projecting them while I was speaking with Dr. Picani. It may have something to do with being in this land. It’s okay, Joan.

JOAN: If you say so…

PICANI: Okay. Time is running out. My next patient will be here in just a few minutes. Since this hasn’t been a full session where we didn’t have really much time to discuss any real issues, and you are friends of Elliott’s, you don’t owe me anything. Elliott has payed for the full session already, so it’s okay.

THOMAS: Oh, thank you, Dr. Picani.

PICANI: But I hope to know about you in the future.

[Thomas and Joan rise up]

THOMAS: Yes, I hope so too, Doctor. Goodbye.

JOAN: Goodbye, Doctor.

PICANI: Goodbye, patients.

[Thomas and Joan get out of the building. The Sides rise up or appear around them]

THOMAS: Well, that was refreshing.

JOAN: It was.

ROMAN: And you were right, Thomas, it doesn’t make sense to place eyeshadow and purple garments on Dr. Picani. I’ll scrap that when we get back home.

THOMAS: I’m glad you understand, Roman…

[suddenly, an army of Thomases, all dressed with the Steven Universe star shirt, comes out of nowhere and surrounds the gang]

THOMAS: [a little afraid] What’s the meaning of this?

VIRGIL: [concerned] We’re surrounded, there’s no possible escape route.

[one of them approaches them]

GUARD: At last we found thou, your Highness.

ROMAN: [concerned] Oh, no…

THOMAS: What is going on, Roman? Who are these?

ROMAN: These are all the different Thomas characters you have played in your Vines and shorts. They work in the Royal Palace, doing chores, being our entourage in protocol expeditions, being our guards, like the ones here…

GUARD: Thou must come with us, your Highness. Thy father has been looking for you everywhere. Thou shouldn’t have just disappeared like that.

ROMAN: I’m the prince of this land! I decide when I disappear and for how long! Now I command you to let me go!

GUARD: I’d wish to follow your command, your Highness, but alas, our orders come from the King, your father, themselves. Thou must come with us right now.

ROMAN: But…

GUARD: Please, your Highness, don’t make a scene. Do not resist us. We’d hate to use violence, but we’ll do to enforce your Majesty’s command if we must. Ye are surrounded and outnumbered, thou know thou have no choice.

ROMAN: [sighs] Okay… If there’s no choice, I’ll go with you… But my friends will come with me as my own personnel, they’ll stay with me all the time.

GUARD: Do as it pleases thyself, as long as thou come with us.

ROMAN: Let’s go then. Let’s get over with this already.

[they start walking, they talk to each other in low voice trying not to be heard by the guards surrounding them]

ROMAN: I’m so sorry, you guys. I didn’t expect that they would find us so easily. I thought if we stayed away from the Royal Palace, we’d be safe, but I guess I was wrong. My father must have eyes and ears everywhere.

LOGAN: Ew… That’s gross…

DECEIT: It’s a metaphor, Logan.

VIRGIL: But I don’t understand, Roman. What’s going on?

ROMAN: You see… when I first appeared in front of Thomas the first time, I told him that some day I’d be a prince, remember Thomas?

THOMAS: How could I forget?

ROMAN: I am Creativity, and I had the power of making anything that Thomas imagined through me come true in the Mind Palace. So I wished hard for me to become a real Prince… and it worked. One day I woke up in a royal bedroom, and I was Prince Roman, Heir of the Kingdom of Sandersia. Everything I created as Thomas’ creativity, made Sandersia bigger and more prosperous. I also had a royal family of my own, with a King that ruled the Kingdom, which was my royal father. I lived with him so many years, I got fully immersed into the story I created for myself, and became his son for real. He raised me, after all, so he was my father in all the sense of the word. But then, the problems arose.

THOMAS: Problems?

ROMAN: Well, it was in a time when you, Thomas, got really afraid and uncomfortable with your own sexuality, and that fear was a big influence on all of us. I didn’t escape that influence as, suddenly, my father, the King, started demanding me to marry a princess to secure a lineage. I was horrified. I told him that I was gay, and that I would never marry a woman, princess or not, but that only infuriated him. He just locked me in my bedroom, forbid me to get out of the kingdom, so I couldn’t see you, Thomas, and started looking for eligible maidens all over the land to choose one himself and force me to marry her.

VIRGIL: Oh, yes, you mentioned that, but not with so much detail.

ROMAN: So, in the end, one night, when everybody was sleeping, I grabbed my sword and ran away to my room in the Mind Palace. I created a barrier between my room and Sandersia so that they could never know where I was, and so that no one could get in or out without my authorization. And I stayed in my room from then on, never returning until today. I even removed the shields from my royal uniform out of fear of being uncovered… then I realized that was impossible as long as I didn’t return, so I brought them back when I updated my outfit. I should have taken them off before coming back. No wonder everyone recognized me as Your Highness…

THOMAS: But you’re Creativity. You literally created them all. You could as easily modify them or make them disappear, why so much fear?

ROMAN: I can’t, Thomas! They’re my family. I literally grew up with them. I’m too attached to them, it would kill me to do that. I would never do that. I want them to keep on existing, just the way they are, and if they change, I want them to change on their own free will, because they’ve listened to reason, not just because I forced them to do so. I may dress in white, but I’m not White Diamond, you know?

THOMAS: I see. But if you knew this could happen, why did you take such a foolish risk and return to Sandersia? We would have never put you in such a danger just for some… fun trip.

ROMAN: I always felt incomplete, Thomas. What’s a prince without a kingdom? I’ve always missed Sandersia, and I had hoped that they would have forgotten about me after all these years, especially since now you are more than comfortable with being gay… I guess I was wrong. Now they’ll force me to go back to the Royal Castle permanently… maybe even carry on with their plans and make me marry a princess of their choice… [looks at Virgil with an angsty face] I don’t want to do that! I love you, Virgil, I just want to be with you and no one else!

VIRGIL: [holding Roman’s hand, with determined voice] If that’s so, I won’t let them force you into doing something you don’t wanna do! We’ll try to convince them to understand, and if they don’t listen, we’ll make them listen! I won’t let them take you away from me! Jeez… love can really change people down to the core. I never thought these kind of determined words would ever be coming out from my mouth. That’s the effect you’ve had on me, Roman, and I’m not giving you up!

ROMAN: [with a sad smile] I love you, so much…

THOMAS: And we’ll help in any way we can. It’s not fair that for some… stupid law, they force you to be in an unhappy relationship for the rest of your life. We’ll think of something.

GUARD: Okay, we’ve arrived.

ROMAN: [with a painful, sarcastic, voice] Oh… good…

[the gang looks at the castle that lies in front of them. It’s huge, in white color with red roofs, and with Roman’s shield above the front door. The door opens and they enter a huge corridor with another door at the end of it. When the front door slams behind them, all the guards except the main guard leave them to guard the door and the gang walks to the end door]

GUARD: Wait here till I announce thou.

ROMAN: Yes, I know how this works, I used to live here, remember? Don’t teach me any lessons and go ahead already.

GUARD: You must know that I sympathize with you, your Highness. I do not like at all having to do this, but it’s the king. I must obey. I wish you the best of luck.

ROMAN: Yes, yes, whatever…

[the guard opens the door and closes it behind him, while the gang stays outside]

ROMAN: I’m scared, you guys…

VIRGIL: Who wouldn’t be?

ROMAN: I mean, who knows what my father’s going to do to me? The more I think of it, the more scared I get… I wish we could be back in the living room right now…

THOMAS: And why don’t we? Let’s just teleport back, like when we get in and out of the rooms.

ROMAN: We can’t teleport out of Sandersia, Thomas. Remember that I placed a barrier at the door. No one can get in or out of Sandersia unless they cross that door. We’d need to get physically across the door to my room first to be able to get back to the living room, but it’s too far away… and we’re trapped in this castle with no escape. And I’m not wiping out anything or anyone, before you make the suggestion. No innocent Sandersian will be erased in any plan we conceive.

THOMAS: It’s okay. We’ll think of something else. In the meantime, don’t be afraid. We won’t let anything bad happen to you.

PATTON: If the king treats you bad, I’m ready to physically fight all the minions he tries to throw upon us to defend you. It would be the first time I’d have to do it for real, but I don’t care. I’ve got a future son in law to protect.

ROMAN: Thank you, Patton. Thank you guys…

[the door starts opening]

ROMAN: [swallows saliva and shows a scared face] Oh, no… [takes a deep breath and masks his fear with his usual regal bearing] Okay… dignity. I’m still Prince Roman. I’ll stand my ground. I won’t give in.

[once the door is fully opened, the guard yells from inside]

GUARD: Prince Roman Graham Alexander McDonald Carlos Sanders III, Prince and Heir of the Kingdom of Sandersia!

[Roman starts walking and the others walk a few steps behind. He shows his regal bearing, and he would have fooled everyone into thinking he was confident, if it wasn’t for how much his hands were shaking. After a few steps, Roman looks at the throne room. To the surprise of everyone, at the throne there sits the Prince Guy]

ROMAN: What? You?

PRINCE GUY: Glad to see you again… brother.

THOMAS: What the… Brother? The Prince Guy is your brother?

ROMAN: Where is dad? [to the guard] You said that my father gave you the orders.

PRINCE GUY: I commanded him to tell you that, Roman. You wouldn’t have listened otherwise.

ROMAN: [sarcastic] And of course, the fact that you sent a whole army to get me wasn’t a stronger way of convincing me, I guess…

PRINCE GUY: You never know…

ROMAN: You still didn’t answer my question. Where is dad?

PRINCE GUY: Roman, our father… died seven years ago.

ROMAN: [in shock] He… died?

PRINCE GUY: When you left, he went really angry. He searched Sandersia for you far and wide. But you were nowhere to be seen. After a couple of years of search, he stopped looking for you.

ROMAN: Because he gave up on me?

PRINCE GUY: Because he went ill, Roman. When he saw that his end was nearing, he realized how bad he had been with you. In the end, I confessed…

ROMAN: You confessed? What did you have to confess?

PRINCE GUY: …that I had been covering your escape.

ROMAN: [in shock] You… what? I didn’t know…

PRINCE GUY: I had always known where you were hiding. That night, when dad was so harsh on you, when he called you all those horrible things… I went to your bedroom to try to comfort and support you. And I saw you sneaking out of the castle and running away. I followed you up to that door in the tree where you placed the barrier.

ROMAN: I never noticed anyone following me… And why didn’t you give me away?

PRINCE GUY: How could I do that? You are my big brother and I love you. I've always looked up to you as an example for your courage and gentleness, and for your strong will that wouldn't let anyone stand in your way to your dreams and happiness, and I admired how sometimes you would be bent by dad’s words, but never broken. I knew dad was wrong and I wanted to make sure that you were happy, even if that meant I would never see you again, and even knowing how much I was gonna miss you. In his last moments, dad understood it too. He wrote you a letter, that I was to give you. But I couldn’t cross the barrier, so I couldn’t deliver it. I tried to knock sometimes, with no luck.

ROMAN: Oh… I remember someone knocking at the door years ago… But I didn’t open out of fear of getting caught. If I had known…

PRINCE GUY: It’s okay, I understood that at the time, and I just resigned to wait until the day you decided to come back. And I left… Sun and Moon guarding the door day and night to warn me when you decided to show your face here again.

ROMAN: So it was these two who gave me away. And they looked so innocent…

PRINCE GUY: Don’t be mad at them. I’m glad that they gave you away, brother. Otherwise, I couldn’t have given you this. [takes a golden envelope from a pocket in his suit, gets up from the throne and approaches Roman to give it to him] These are dad’s last words for you. Here you are.

[Roman opens the letter and starts reading the also golden paper inside. After a few moments, he bursts in tears]

THOMAS: Don’t keep us in suspense, Roman, read it to us too! If it’s not too personal, of course.

ROMAN: [sobbing] Oh, sorry… it’s not. But I fear I’ll get choked up if I read it out-loud…

PRINCE GUY: I already know the content, as I wrote it myself on his dictation, because he was too weak to hold a quill, but, as you can see, he stamped his royal insignia so that you knew I didn’t write it myself. I’ll read it if you want.

ROMAN: [giving him the letter, still sobbing] Yes, please…

PRINCE GUY: [reading] My dear son Roman… I don’t know how to start these lines. How does a father start apologizing to his son when he thinks what he’s done is unforgivable? Some things I think of come out as fake, others come out as weak. I guess I’ll just have to allow myself to be myself, and start with the most simple, yet most difficult word to say: “Sorry”. I regret so much everything I made you go through. I have paid the price of my wrongdoings, because I lost you. Now I know I’ll never see you again in this world. I’ll pay the price and think it was worthy if at least you managed to find happiness away from me, wherever you are, and with whomever you choose, whether it’s a woman, or a man, or anything in between, I don’t care anymore, as long as they’re a good person who loves you as much as you deserve, as much as I failed to do in the end. I hope that when you read these lines, you can find it in your heart to forgive this stupid old man that is on the verge of leaving this world. That wouldn’t change what I’ve done, but at least it would give me peace.

[Virgil gets closer to Roman and holds his hand. They look at each other and tears start running from both their eyes, while the Prince Guy keeps on reading]

PRINCE GUY: There’s a problem on what we must do with the throne after my departure now that you’re gone, though. Even though your brother would also be a good king, I still think that you’re the best ruler this kingdom could have. Your brother agrees with me on that as he doesn’t want the crown. So, for the time being, until you make a choice, I have decided to make your brother the regent of the Kingdom of Sandersia, and he will govern in your name while you’re absent. In the case you decide to return, he’ll immediately resign in your favor and you’ll take your place as King of Sandersia. It’s up to you what you decide to do with the crown afterwards. I know that, whatever you do, you’ll make the right choice. You were educated in wisdom and intelligence, and you developed the most creative mind because of that. At least in that, I think I wasn’t so bad.

[the Prince Guy makes a short pause, then proceeds to read the final part of the letter]

PRINCE GUY: It’s time for me to end these lines now, as my strength is starting to fail me and my vision is getting blurry. I don’t think I’ll last much longer. Goodbye, my dear son. I hope that my love reaches you and guides you for the rest of your life. I’ll always be with you if you look into your heart. I love you, my son. Even if I failed to show it properly, I have always loved you. Farewell.

[the Prince Guy gives the paper back to Roman]

PRINCE GUY: And then he signs with his name and his royal stamp. Dad wrote another document proclaiming this last part, which was read in his funeral. You were proclaimed back then as the new king, so there’s no need for any more formalisms. Welcome back home, King Roman Graham Alexander McDonald Carlos Sanders III, ruler of the Kingdom of Sandersia.

ROMAN: I… I didn’t expect this. So I’m… the king?

[another guard brings the Prince Guy the royal crown]

PRINCE GUY: Yes, your Majesty. [placing the crown on Roman’s head] The throne is all yours.

THOMAS: [emotional] Oh, my goodness… Congratulations Ro… I mean, Your Majesty!

VIRGIL: I’m so proud of you…

[the rest of the Sides and Joan start cheering and applauding, even Logan gets a little carried away]

PRINCE GUY: Now, I think it’s your turn to speak. Say whatever’s in your heart, Your Majesty.

ROMAN: I… I don’t know what to say… Yes I do. I hereby announce that you, my brother, will keep on being the regent of Sandersia.

PRINCE GUY: [surprised] What? But I…

ROMAN: My wish was to be a prince, and if I’m crowned as king, that means I’m no longer a prince. I’m not giving up my nickname Princey. Kingy just sounds… weird, and I don’t even know how to spell it.

THOMAS: But the purpose of a prince is to become a king. Isn’t it?

ROMAN: Don’t get me wrong, Thomas, I’m not giving up the crown. But I just had an idea. I don’t have to stop being a prince if I do a little tweak to Sandersia’s Constitution, and as a king I have the power to do that… From this day on, I proclaim that the Kingdom of Sandersia becomes the Principality of Sandersia, and I remain being Prince Roman… and the rest of the names, ruler of Sandersia.

PRINCE GUY: But why do you want me to keep on being the regent? You’re back, the crown is yours. Being a king or a prince is irrelevant to that.

ROMAN: You have been here, governing the kingdom in my absence all this time. And look how well you’re doing it. I’m so proud of you. Besides, I still have work to do somewhere else, brother. I’m still Thomas’ Creativity. I can’t properly rule a country and fulfill my creative duties at the same time. That’s why I want you, brother, to help me. Be my eyes and ears in the throne. Also, I know that, unlike me, you’re capable of having descent in wedlock, because you like both men and women, I’ve seen it in Thomas’ Vines and shorts. So you won’t have the trouble that I have to find someone with whom bringing a new heir to Sandersia. When the moment comes, I’ll abdicate my crown into your son, or daughter, and they will be the next ruler. That if you choose a woman as your wife, of course. If you decided to be with a man, or decided not to be with anyone at all, we’d find a solution.

PRINCE GUY: I don’t know, it’s too much to assimilate all of a sudden… Are you sure, Roman?

ROMAN: I have never been more sure of anything in my life.

PRINCE GUY: Then… it shall be as you commanded. I’ll try to keep on making you proud, your Majesty… I mean, your Highness.

ROMAN: And please, call me Roman, we’re family after all, aren’t we?

[the two brothers share a hug]

JOAN: So many things have happened in so little time… I think I’ll just give up on keeping up and get carried away with it. I’ll think about it tomorrow.

ROMAN: Now, I want to introduce you to someone, brother. Virgil?

VIRGIL: Yes?

ROMAN: This is Virgil. He’s my fiancee, I asked him to marry me just today, and he said yes.

PRINCE GUY: I’m honored to know you, Virgil.

VIRGIL: The honor is all mine.

PRINCE GUY: It would be my biggest pleasure if you decided to celebrate your wedding here, in the Royal Palace. I wouldn’t want to miss it.

ROMAN: Oh, it would be great. What do you think, Virgil? Oh, I know you don’t like pomposity on weddings…

VIRGIL: It’s okay, Roman. When I decided to be with a prince, I accepted everything that comes with it.

ROMAN: But you don’t have to do anything that bothers you just to please me, Virgil. You have equal weight in our relationship and your word must be heard as much as mine.

VIRGIL: Thank you, Roman. I promise to tell you everything I can think of for the wedding, when I come out with something.

ROMAN: That’s better. Now, brother, we must go. I’ll tell you in advance when we’re ready to start preparing the wedding.

PRINCE GUY: I’ll be waiting, brother. Please, don’t take another seven years to come back.

ROMAN: I promise. And I’ll keep contact, even if by letter.

PRINCE GUY: I have a cell phone, you know? Sandersia is not so out of the world.

ROMAN: That’s great, here’s my number… so call me maybe?

PRINCE GUY: You bet I will.

ROMAN: Well, it’s gonna be a long way back…

PRINCE GUY: Why walking? You have the royal carriage at your disposal. It’s big enough for you and your personnel, and it will take you there in no time. It’s already waiting at the door.

ROMAN: Thank you, brother. I was so afraid when I entered the castle, and I’m leaving it so happy and fulfilled.

PRINCE GUY: Glad to hear that. Have a nice trip back home, all of you.

THOMAS: It was an honor to meet you. Goodbye.

ROMAN: Goodbye, brother, until we meet again.

[the gang leaves the room and jumps into the royal carriage. The Prince Guy was right, because they have little time to react and they’re already at the door to Roman’s room]

THOMAS: Wow! Thank God they don’t put speed tickets here in Sandersia. Your brother was right when he said we would be here in no time…

ROMAN: Yeah... [looking off-screen at Patton in the car] Watch out, Patton! Don’t throw up in the car, the upholstery is made of...! [off-screen sound of puking, Roman cringes] ...cashmere...

THOMAS: Roman...

ROMAN: Yes, Thomas?

THOMAS: Why is there so much trouble with your offspring? Aren’t you going to marry Virgil? Technically if you two adopted, it would be a child of your own in wedlock. Even if you decided to surrogate, Virgil could adopt him.

ROMAN: I know. It’s absurd, but it’s the protocol. The heir of the Kingdom... or Principality now, must be the biological son or daughter of both the ruler and their legitimate married partner.

THOMAS: Then, change the protocol! Aren’t you the king, I mean, the prince of this land?

ROMAN: It’s not that easy. Laws can be changed, but protocols are written in stone. It takes much more time to implement changes and to make them be accepted. Why do you think so much royalty people feels miserable, despite being rich, famous and powerful? It’s the price to pay for our position, unfortunately... Well, let’s get back home.

[they cross the door and get back to Roman’s room]

ROMAN: Home, sweet home.

VIRGIL: It’s good to be back. For a moment, I thought we’d never return.

THOMAS: Okay, it’s time to get back to the living room. Are you coming, guys?

ROMAN: Um, no, I’m tired, Thomas, so if you excuse me, I’m staying here.

THOMAS: Okay. What about you, Virgil?

VIRGIL: I’m staying here for a while too. We need to have a conversation about the wedding, after all.

THOMAS: [smiling] As you wish guys. Okay, let’s go. Bye, guys.

ROMAN: Bye, Thomas, bye guys.

[Thomas, Joan and the Sides sink down, then they rise up in the living room]

JOAN: What a cool adventure… Seeing all our characters alive in front of our eyes… I think it’s the best experience a creator could ever have.

THOMAS: You’re right…

PATTON: Well, kiddos. We’ve been out for so long that the dough I made for the cookies must have got rotten, so I’ll start over.

WRATH: Do you need some help, Patton? I’d love to make cookies with you.

HONESTY: Me too. I can bring the tea I was preparing earlier.

PATTON: As you wish, kiddos.

[Patton, Wrath and Honesty sink down]

LOGAN: I’m also going to my room. I need to start writing down the plans I mentioned to Dr. Picani earlier. [sinks down] See you later, Thomas.

THOMAS: Don’t work too hard, Logan.

DECEIT: I must go too, Thomas. It was great being in a world so delusional, but even the deceitful ones like me need some time to put their feet on the ground. [sinks down] Bye.

THOMAS: Bye, Deceit. Well, Joan, what do you think of this?

JOAN: It was enlightening, an experience I will never forget.

THOMAS: Yeah, me too. [to the camera] And I hope that anything you out there have seen has been useful for you too. Until next time, take it easy, guys, gals and non binary pals. Peace out!

[end card]

[Deceit is in his room in the Light Realm, reading a book about optical illusions]

DECEIT: Who would have thought. Even nature is a liar sometimes…

[Virgil rises up]

DECEIT: Oh, hi, Virgil. I thought you were staying with Roman discussing the preparations for your wedding.

VIRGIL: I had that planned. But something got me worrying all along, and didn’t let me focus, so I left early.

DECEIT: What is it?

VIRGIL: Are you all right, Deceit?

DECEIT: What do you mean I’m all right? I’m happy as can be.

VIRGIL: Cool. Because, earlier, when Roman proposed to me… I couldn’t help but notice your face.

DECEIT: My face? What face?

VIRGIL: Your face of sorrow.

DECEIT: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

VIRGIL: And I’m sure Honesty and Wrath know something too, they tried to be discreet, but I saw them comforting you.

DECEIT: Look, it’s normal that a wedding can be stressful, but don’t you think it’s too early to start imagining things?

VIRGIL: Lately, you only lie when you get nervous. So I think I’m hitting close home.

DECEIT: Listen, I…

VIRGIL: Listen, Deceit. We’ve been through a lot, both good and bad. There were times when we were closer, other times when we couldn’t stand each other. Now that we’ve regained our friendship back, I don’t want to be unable to know if I can trust you or not again. Please share your feelings with me.

DECEIT: Believe me, Virgil. There’s no use in me sharing my feelings with you. That would only blurry the happiness you’re living in right now, and I don’t wanna do that.

VIRGIL: There’s only one reason you could be so secretive with me, but not with Honesty and Wrath. Do you… have any feelings towards me, Deceit?

DECEIT: [nervously] No, I don’t!

VIRGIL: Got it… Listen, Deceit. I love you, but not in the way you’d wish.

DECEIT: [sighs] I know… That’s why I didn’t want you to know my feelings ever.

VIRGIL: I will always be your friend, and I hope you never stop being my friend. But please, try to…

DECEIT: I wish it was so easy, Virgil. But you said it yourself. We’ve been through a lot. We’ve known each other for so long, and I’ve been in love with you for so long. Even in the moments when we were enemies, I still loved you, but I covered that feeling with my lies. I don’t know how I can expel from myself this feeling so rooted in my heart, without tearing my heart itself apart.

VIRGIL: You must try. I love Roman.

DECEIT: I know. And I hope you live happily ever after with him, Virgil.

VIRGIL: It’s painful to see you so dejected, Deceit. I wish you could feel otherwise…

DECEIT: See why I didn’t want to share my feelings with you? What has been the use, other than bringing clouds into your happiness? Now, please, I want to be alone.

VIRGIL: [sad voice] As you wish.

[Virgil sinks down]

DECEIT: [sighs, with a trembling voice of pain] It’s all falling apart… I must go back to the Dark Realm and never return. No one would miss this stupid liar anyway…

[Deceit sinks down and then the room’s lights turn off, leaving the room in darkness]

#sanders sides #fanfic #sanders sides fic #ts fanfic #thomas sanders #thomas sanders fanfic #prinxiety #romantic prinxiety #anxceit #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides virgil #deceit sanders #aspects and fanfics

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your-brother-crutchie · 7 years

Text

The Conlon Dilemma

Race can’t stand his feelings for Spot anymore and goes to rant to Jojo about it.

So, perhaps I only included Jojo being Race’s best friend because of B/en T/yler C/ook and J/oshua B/urrage but you have no proof.

Skidding down the corridor, Race focussed on Jojo’s door at the end. His roommate, Spot, had been asking if Race was seeing anyone and. He’d had to get out of there before he cracked.

Everyone knew that Race was fawning after Spot.

Everyone except Spot.

When he reached the door, Race didn’t even bother knocking. He knew that Jojo wouldn’t mind, he was his best friend after all, and his twin brother, Darcy, wasn’t likely to question it. It happened often enough, anyway. He barrelled through the door, only stopping once it was firmly in its hinges behind him.

Race looked up to see the back of Jojo’s head popping up over the sofa and let out a sigh of relief as he slumped against the back of the door, “Shit, Jojo, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Confusion flushed Race’s cheeks as Jojo’s shoulders heaved in a deep sigh before turning from his book to face Race. Only when Race focussed on the glasses and the neatly parted hair did he realise that he’d mistaken Darcy for Jojo.

“Oh my god, I give up!” Throwing his hands into the air and hopping over the back of the sofa to drop beside Darcy, Race buried his face into his hands and kneaded the heels of his palms into his eyes. All Race wanted to do was vent about his messed up love life to his best friend who might try to listen but he couldn’t even do that right. It wasn’t the first time that Race had got the two mixed up. At least he tended to know when he had recently, unlike when Race had first met Darcy.

Initially, Jojo didn’t mention that he had a twin. Race had met him in his English class and didn’t have any reason to believe that there could be another of him. One day, Race had decided to head to the local Starbucks for a coffee when he’d seen Jojo sitting in the window seat. He’d joined him naturally, complimenting him on his new glasses and asking if he’d just got a new prescription. It was only when Race leaned over the table to mess up Darcy’s neatly combed hair that Darcy had understood what was going on whilst pulling away. Darcy had kindly placed down his coffee and his book, folding his hands together neatly on the table in front of him as he explained slowly to Race that he wasn’t Jojo.

“Where’s Jojo, then?” Pulling his hands away from his face, Race turned to Darcy before dropping his head onto his shoulder and reading a couple of lines of his book, growing bored of it immediately. Darcy read some boring, old-fashioned stories. Race hadn’t even picked up a book that he didn’t need to for years.

Sighing as he placed a bookmark between the pages of his book, Darcy placed it gently on the coffee table before removing his reading glasses and turning to Race, “He’s in the shower. What’s up?”

Race had nothing against going to Darcy for advice, it was just that he always went to Jojo and Jojo was usually always right, “Spot.” He decided to give a short answer that Darcy would understand and wait for Jojo before pouring his heart out because he didn’t think he could do it twice.

Nodding quickly, Darcy eased a sleepy Race over onto the cushion next to the arm of the chair before standing and heading to the kitchen. Race didn’t really know what he was doing but he had a good feeling that he was making his hot chocolate. Darcy made a damn good hot chocolate.

As the sound of the shower stopped, Race started to feel uncomfortable in the silence. His room was always loud, full of the sound of Mario Kart or Spot slamming cupboard doors at three am. It was strange to be in an identical set of rooms that was so very different. However, the sound of the microwave soon pulled Race out of his thoughts as he looked up to see Darcy pulling three mugs down from one of the cupboards.

When the door across from him opened, Race looked up to see Jojo, sighing with his hair wet and lying flat over his eyes, “What now, Higgins?” Although it sounded confrontational, Race knew that it was fond as Jojo dropped next to him, taking him into his arms and letting him sniffle into his shoulder without question immediately.

“I can’t keep rooming with Spot, Jojo. I just can’t! I’m falling in love with him but Spot’s the only person who has no idea. He doesn’t even seem to be the slightest bit interested. I can’t really move out, either, because we’re supposed to be best friends so he’ll question it.” Race buried his nose into Jojo’s neck, trying to hide the fact that he was about ready to start crying even though he knew that his friend would know. Jojo always knew.

Jojo brushed his hand soothingly over Race’s hair, sighing as the boy started shaking, even if only slightly, “I know he’d ask questions but maybe you should switch? The only problem is that no one has a spare bed so you’d have to swap with someone and everyone’s either scared of Spot or happy rooming with their partners. You were the only one comfortable with him because you introduced us.” It was a difficult situation. If Race moved, it would only prompt questions and there wasn’t anywhere that he could move into anyway.

Pulling away slightly and staring dejectedly at the small wet patch that he had made on Jojo’s shirt, Race took a deep breath before looking up at his friend, “We’re all friends now, though. Surely there’s somebody?”

A heavy expression drew like curtains across Jojo’s face as he watched his friend, teary-eyed and desperate, “It’s better but I don’t think anyone’s ready to share a room with him.” He hated seeing Race like this but, since he’d started falling for Spot, it had become a weekly thing.

There had been a time when Race was unhappy. Constantly. His family was homophobic and he was confused and scared and he’d struggled through high school only to find that he hadn’t done as well as he’d been expected to. Jojo had been there, every single night, to hold him whilst he cried. Eventually, he’d managed to convince Race to go to a doctor, to get help.

Until Spot came along, the pills had been working, Race was happier than ever. A small part of Jojo would always resent the Brooklyn boy for making Race sad again but he knew that it wasn’t Spot’s fault. Race was just too damaged to understand that falling in love, wholly and completely, with a boy who didn’t even know you were gay was a road to disaster.

Jojo refused to ever see Race back there.

“You could do it? For me?” Race was desperate, that much was clear. He grasped at Jojo’s hand, eyes pleading for him to just say yes and let Race deal with his feelings far away from the cause.

Smiling sadly, Jojo pulled his hand out of Race’s tight grip and placed it soothingly on his cheek instead. They’d always been very touchy. Jojo had a feeling that it was something to do with Race not getting a lot of physical attention from his family, “Not a chance, Pasta.”

Suddenly, there was a steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of Race’s face. Darcy stood there, holding it and waiting for the boy to take it as he smiled, glad to see that Jojo had the situation under control. He’d become very fond of Race over the years that he’d been friends with his brother and he hated seeing the boy upset almost as much as Jojo.

Race accepted the mug thankfully, blowing the steam across it gently as he settled back against the sofa once again, “Darcy?” He knew he’d get the same answer, exactly the same if the twins were feeling particularly in sync on that day.

6:1

“Not a chance.”

Race knew it.

“Sorry, Race. We love you but Spot scares the living daylights out of us.” Darcy handed Jojo his mug before resting on the other side of Race, letting the boy sigh into his shoulder.

Grumbling quietly to himself, Race brought the hot chocolate to his face to muffle his words, “What’s the use of having twin friends if neither of them are willing to do you one favour?”

A huff of laughter came from Darcy beside him as he carefully placed his mug on the table and picked up his book from where he had left it, “One favour that changes the rest of this college year.” He casually opened it to where he had delicately placed the bookmark earlier and only looked to Race when he had still not had a reply.

“Piss off, Darcy. You’re just reminding me of why I like Jojo better.” Race quipped back quickly, flipping over so that he was cuddled against Jojo’s side and presenting Darcy with his back.

Shaking his head, Darcy simply raised his eyebrows, collected his mug and took a careful sip before even thinking about a response, “A blatant lie.”

Jojo laughed, pulling Race closer into his side and being careful to make sure that neither of them spilled their drinks, “I don’t think so.” He pressed a lazy kiss to Race’s forehead, knowing that small, friendly gestures like that were always enough to make him smile, even if only a little bit.

“I love you guys.”

“We know.”

#newsies #rowan writes sprace #sprace #spot/race #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #jojo #darcy #newsies fanfiction #rowan writes #fics

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victor-v · 4 years

Text

so yesterday i finished all for the game for the second time in my life (weird thing i've never read a book or series twice) and it wrecked me for the second time. it was unexpectedly nice that i actually understood everything with so much clarity, but that makes sense i've got lot of practice in reading english since then. also, i wrote my thoughts on the book this time.

i can't understand how a book can have such an impact on me, i hate that and i love it, everything else that crossed my mind is under the cut

★huh andrew really bullied aaron into dressing identical to mess up with neil

★"i don't swing either way" is the phrase that made me feel more valid that the whole queer community ever

★neil is pure nihilism

★how can i EVER forget neil wore a tight long sleeved TORN tshirt that andrew bought this is way too much

★seth is dead and all kevin can think about is the line up tbh i do that often

★they are making a scandal about how they sit

★kevin telling neil "destroy him" filled me with power

★the most unreal part is neil ALWAYS keeping his roots another colour the guy must dye his hair every fucking week

★how did neil buy andrew's promise to protect him from the japanese mafia's professional murderers when the only people he physically bullies is an obsessive young adult with anxiety, a princess in high heels and his sunshine sister in law

★wait a fucking minute andrew saw neil filled with terror while holding the phone and immediately gave him the car keys so he could be alone fuck

★nicky fucking hemmick attended to improv class

★ according to dan few athletes were crude enough to start trouble at an ERC event, you mean as crude as neil?

★how to take care of your teammate while he's in a crisis according to: andrew→show concern and reassure him. wymack→10 seconds of vodka

★"hey, jean. jean valjean" is peak comedy

★the ravens walking in v formation is genuinely the most cringy thing you can think of

★neil first finds out the only possible person to date him is andrew because he was jealous of renee are you kidding me

★andrew only missed 13 from 150 shots on goal for fucking real what a Man

★renee is an angel, she's specifically andrew's angel

★neil truly is a watcher

★bee wearing a bee costume is the only good thing on this world

★dan and matt dressed like greek gods!!!!! they can adopt me already

★can you believe nicky is the one who got into neil's brain and planted the idea of realying on someone, and since then neil actively pursues an investigation on andrew's relationship status how on god's name i missed that HOW he's not even subtle about it damn

★he first worries about renee now about kevin goddamn it josten how can't you se how much you care about him

★it's funny how sexuality is such a heavy topic between them when they sure as fuck have some pretty huge stuff going on you know like dying in the hands of the mafia or being tortured

★i imagine andrew running to renee all bonkers like "listen if the cute guy asks, for fucks sake tell him i'm gay but make it ~casual~ maybe this way he'll get it"

★the sole mention of thanksgiving dinner makes me want to die

★kevin is checking the scores in a newspaper I forget this book is so 00's

★they should have spent the day eating turkey and frozen pie at abby's fuckkkkkkkk

★are you kidding me they are in the middle of a conversation and andrew casually chokes neil a little but it's ok they carry on wtf

★"we are all going to regret this" is the fucking worse piece of foreshadowing in this book

★neil interrogating andrew the same night he was raped what kind of fucking piece of shit does that

★i can't fucking believe neil went ahead and shoved andrew's hand under his tshirt in front of kevin, wymack, betsy and two fucking lawyers are you kidding me

★neil asking "are we? friends?" to nicky is so relatable because i also would have an aneurysm if someone told me i am their friend

★someone else tries to flirt with him and he immediately considers andrew how i was too ace to see it the first time i read

★jesus fucking christ riko is one truly fucked up sociopath and neil is the bravest motherfucker on the land

★how can he face riko like that in the nest and be extremely pure in other occasion

★"are we watching the ball drop? i want to make a wish" he wants to make a wish and i want to die thanks

★i can't believe the whole if it means losing you then no and side effect of the drugs shit it's unreal fucking unreal how oblivious neil is too ace to realize anything SOMEONE JUST CALLED YOU "DREAM" THE LEVEL OF ROMANTICISM

★the amount of heavy staring in this trilogy is ridiculous and all i can think about is twilight

★these books made me see how far from the 00s we are, for many reasons, but mostly for some jokes that can't let slide; like calling neil a battered wife, domestic misogynistic violence is not a joke

★i can't believe from all people, wymack was the first one to get andrew was into neil

★"that doesn't mean I wouldn't blow you" is such a funny phrase to be said casually why is it

★"you are a racoon, not a fox" oh andrew

★it only took andrew admitting he had a crush for neil to be all sentimental and shit, and that disarmed andrew too

★they are like some kind of animal that while you think they are fighting, they are actually mating, that's exactly what nora meant with feral

★half of last book is neil mooning over andrew jfc

★nicky made neil smile while distracting him from riko im gonna throw myself off a cliff

★i can't quite believe neil goes through a detailed monologue about andrews memory the man is impressed and borderline turned on about every talent on his crushe's shelf

★i literally can't follow and will never understand the quarrel/promise/agreement between aaron and andrew what a bunch of pretentious idiots

★every time neil's phone buzzes all i fear is the fucking countdown

★i thought "i want to see you lose control" was a collective fever dream i can't believe it's written on the books

★if i was nicky i already have told andrew to stop his freaky pretentious shit towards me

★neil to the upperclassman: ha ha fellas is it gay to unthinkingly call andrew in the middle of a anxiety breakdown

★"you gave me a key and called it home" is as soft as heartbreaking i want to jump off a cliff

★"i won't be like them, i wont let you let me be" is actually pushing me off that cliff andrews feelings are a fucking storm

★neil was kidnapped and tortured the day of my bday and that's not a coincidence

★neil's talent to twist the truth in order to convince andrew of anything is outstanding

★excuse me they have no right to be this soft i hate them

★they miss so many opportunities to be funny about the whole "protection" thing

★did he really had a mental breakdown over where to fucking sit on the bus lmao

★"don't come crying to me when someone breaks your face" is the second most awful piece of foreshadowing

★lets be honest for a second andrew should be a fucking writer because all those things he says? edgy myspace pretentious poetry

★im sorry but i don't care about literally anything except neil smiling onto andrew's neck bye

★andrew ghosted a kiss across neil's hip im dead for real

★abby kissed neil's forehead farewell after cleaning all his injuries i have no words he's recieving all the affection he deserves

★cant believe you don't see aaron is fucking worried neil is taking advantage of andrew

★i mean yeah ok don't talk love but neil is sad that nicky thinks it was only hate sex, and he immediately acknowledged it meant more than that to him bc his demi btw wtf does hate sex mean i can't believe you hate someone so much you wanna suck his dick

★they all went horseback riding when will i have a group of friends like that

★"who's humanising who in that relationship" i know right nicky

★kevin locking himself to have a panic attack is the most relatable thing

★the car encounter with ichirou holds the same tension as a mr robot scene

★the proposal of playing olympics and being unstoppable feels like marriage or smth

★neil is literally having his hot girl summer

★i adore neil's overflow of emotions after swallowing everything for so many years. represented, thanks.

★andrew terrorising katelyn who the fuck does he think he is what an annoying asshole

★"did you know i've never been skiing" is the most epic line

★i cheer to the sole mention of laila

★alvares can deck me right now and i would say thank you

★"war is profitable" aaron knows what's up

★sometimes i want to slap them is2g

★that scene at eden's where they are all discussing how roland found out and aaron ends up being the only straight one lmao boy it's your punishment for being so homophobic

★the whole "deadliest piece on the board" spech is 100 times better when you consider kevin was wasted and overly exaggerating every word and gesture

★can you imagine those few fans supporting kevin's new tattoo screaming YAAAAASSSSS QUEEEEEEEEEN while snapping fingers i'm cackling

★matt in court body slamming into anyone that's been a problem to the foxes: VIBE CHECK MOTHERFUCKER

★neil kissed andrew in castle fucking evermore the audacity i adore him

#the foxhole court #the raven king #the kings men #all for the game #tfc #it really fucking wrecked me #how can a fucking book do this to me #my thoughts

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madeofblossoms-blog · 7 years

Text

Not Normal

Dan wasn’t normal, at least by other’s standards. He thought that being true to yourself was the most important thing. Granted, he did have his nails in sparkly varnish, and his jumpers ranged from rose pink to mint, but that was his just his appearance right? It should only matter to him... But apparently wearing what you wished made you a “flower boy” and a “fag”. Dan wasn’t sure why the first one was even an insult. A boy formed of flowers? Someone made of soft petals and delicate fragments seemed ideal in his mind. His school wasn’t homophobic , really, but the minds of the students were filled with the ideas of smoking and sex and dominance. Dan was different. This made him a bit of a victim, which always seemed ironic. People around him spent their whole lives trying to stand out,trying to be the best, trying to be recognized. Shouldn't he be praised for achieving a level of difference? No matter. He doubted a speech like that would get him away from the impending predicament.

See, school was out for the day, and Dan knew that a couple of the football players had it in their skulls to corner him in the parking lot before he could drive away. The issue was, (if that wasn’t enough of a problem already) that Dan had walked to school that morning. It had been so peaceful, a haze of fog and morning sounds that had coaxed him down the sidewalk to school. Now he faced the fact that he was stuck. A walk home would mean a fast chase, (his flower crown falling off as he ran) and eventually a harsh beating. Dan leaned against his locker, fiddling with a curl that had fallen over his forehead. He pulled out his phone, and something finally happened. His brain clicked and his head cleared and his phone chimed out his cheery ringtone. A text. More importantly, a text from Phil. Dan’s angel. One look at Phil, someone would peg him for a troublemaker and shy away. His earrings and snakebites were intimidating to most, and a swirling tattoo just completed the image. Dan loved that tattoo, and he was damn sure that Phil knew it. His thoughts were pretty obvious, seeing as Dan kissed it every chance he got. His shoulder pressed against the cold metal of his locker as he read Phil’s text. It was a simple hello, but it was also Dan’s life saver. His glittery nail polish caught the white hall light as his fingers danced over the screen of his phone, typing a quick plan for a reply.

The double doors at one end of the hall opened, flooding light into the hallway that Dan had just run out of. His pursuers slammed into the crash bars and the doors hit the walls with a resounding bang. Dan’s flower crown bounced upon his chestnut curl, and he slapped a hand to it as he sprinted. The black asphalt of the school parking lot met the tread of his baby blue trainers like they were old friends. He dashed to the drive, the path stretching on for a hundred feet before it met the main road. Dan glanced down it, come on, come on... Phil’s sleek motorcycle was nowhere in sight. The pounding of feet behind him told Dan that it was over. He cringed as his hands started to shake. Phil wasn’t here.. Phil wasn’t here, but his bullies definitely were. Randy and his friends formed a half circle around the pastel boy, who clutched the sleeves of his jumper. Words bounced off him, but the blows that were sure to come wouldn’t hurt a lot more. “Well, fag? What’s the point of running?” Dan winced at the name, then hands flew up to protect his face as rough fingers ripped the flower crown off his head. A kick in the stomach drew him to the pavement, red flashing behind closed eyelids. A heavy blow to his head beckoned him to fall to slumber... Dan was aware of a rumbling noise as he drifted closer to black. The kicks and punches stopped, but the rescue was late. The pastel boy, de-crowned and bruised, dropped into unconsciousness.

His eyelids felt heavy. That was the first thought that flew through Dan’s mind. The second thought was one of pain. The train of thinking went straight to confusion, as the bed he was rested on was not his. A scan of the room clarified that he was, in fact, laid out of Phil’s sheets. Muse posters adorned the walls, along with a tasteful painting. The white sheets were flannel and soft under Dan’s fingertips. He’d been here before, in Phil’s flat, playing Mario Kart or getting takeaway. Dan lifted himself off the bed, groaning at how slow he felt. He padded to the door, wondering where Phil might have gone. The hall carpet felt perfect under his feet. His ears picked up the sound of running water. He listened for a second more, hearing the squeak of a faucet and the thump of someone stepping to the floor. A moment later, Phil appeared in the bathroom doorway, wearing nothing but a fluffy white towel wrapped loosely around his hips. Dan’s took a minute to appreciate this, brown eyes trailing a milky white torso. The black tattoo curled gently around Phil’s shoulder like smoke, accentuating his blue eyes, skin baring water droplets that cascaded off his abdomen and soaked the floor in tiny circles. The pastel boy forced his gaze up to Phil’s face, which held a well-known smirk. “You like what you see?” Dan blushed. Phil held the towel with one hand, and led Dan back to his room with the other. When Dan was safely situated back on the bed, Phil shed the garment and pulled on a pair of black boxers, then slid onto the mattress next to his boyfriend. His raven hair softened into a fringe as it dried, brushing against the pillow as Phil laid back. Dan yawned. He pulled off his white skinny jeans, letting mint boxers peek out from under his long jumper as he curled against Phil’s side. As happened so often, the elder felt his breath escape quick from his lips at the sight of Dan so undone next to him, his creamy thighs blending with pink lips and dark eyelashes. Phil pressed a kiss to his forehead, and those rosebud lips came up to drift lightly across his tattoo and nibble at a white expanse of skin. Phil sighed happily into Dan’s soft touches, and when dark eyelashes and almond eyes closed to slumber, he kissed the corners of Dan’s face. It took the elder boy only a moment to fall asleep, tangled with his flower boy, and marveling at how comfortable their love seemed to be.

#oneshot phan #pasteldan #fluff #punk phil #phan fluff #oneshot #cute fluff #phan

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chickenstuffedwithmozzarella · 6 years

Note

Holiii!! I saw the pic of Liam and Honey😍😍😍 Asdfahs. They are so cute! And also, i love Liam's eyes. It'a such a nice colour!! And i also saw the gifs!! I love that gif of Louis. HE LOOKS SO SOFT. I could cry. And Harry😂😂😂 Its such a mood. I always flip people off like that. Jajajaja. AND THE GIF OF HARRY WITH THE PINK JACKET. 😍He is dancing funny and i love hiiim. Oh, and i havent read that fic but i'll read it asap and then i'll tell you about it. Promise. Thanks for the rec💖 (1)

Hiiii, Love!!!! I’m so sorry it took me so long to answer! but yesterday I was busy, and when I came home my head hurt like a b*tch, 😖😖. Liam’s eyes very pretty, aren’t they? Everyone likes him better (poor honey). I always flip people like that too, jajaja, that’s why I needed a gif, and I found the best, jajajaja. I couldn’t resist. I’m already rereading that fic,😅. I love re reading things I read a long while ago, bc my English has improved a bit since I came to tumblr, and it’s like reading things for the first time again, so cool.

It wasnt hard being updated bcs OT was everywhere, but yeah. I always try to engage in my friend’s hobbies. & some of them do the same. One of my friends used to be a 1D fan before i met her, and though she is not longer in the fandom she tries to be updated. She sends me memes or things that remind her of 1d. She even watched a video of BG without me knowing/telling her about it. I dont deserver her. Ay, and last week she watched freddieismyqueen videos with me on a free period. I 💖 her (2)

HOW DID YOU FRIEND MANAGE TO QUITE?!?!?! Jajajajaja It feels imposible (not that I have tried…). And she sees things and isn’t intrigued about what is happening?? She should write a self help book,jajajaja. “How to suite one direction: the guide”,jajajaja. But she sounds cool and supportive of you, so keep her, jejeje.

Well, you just described me. Talking in public always end up in one of those two options. I have always wanted to do a road trip!!! You are totally invited of course. JAJAJAJA. Well, it just…happened? Our friend was having a very bad time and he was going through a lot of things and we didnt know how to cheer him up. And then one night we just starting watching a video of AuronPlay reading a fic, and he was happy for the first time in months. (3)And so my cousin said “what if we write him a fic?” And i said “omg, yes”. And thus was born. Its a crack fic. We just put in there his family, his biggest celebrity crush, our friends, ourselves and a couple of animals and started writing nonesense. He hasnt read anything yet, bcs we want to finish it first, and me and my cousin (and our siblings, bcs they wanted to help) only hang out alone sporadically. But we laugh a lot writing it. I hope he laughs too when he finally reads it. (4)

You, your sister and your cousins sound so cool. And your friends too. I’m gonna have to migrate and adopt you all, jajajaj. I’m sure your friend is gonna love it. It’s a recipe for success. Keep me updated when you show him and his reaction,please!!

“How does a gay look like?” Like someone with no toxic masculinity. But i see your point. Judging on looks is not cool. (And i dont usually do it. I watched their behaviour or their words. When someone doesnt ever use gender pronouns and just say “they” “parter” “somebody” im just👀👀👀 i see what u are doing). Yes yes. What you said makes sense. I understood. Dont worry. I have never heard that quote, but i think i could marry whoever wrote this. So much truth!! 😱 (6)

Tbh I never payed attention to that, :/ (heteronormative mind and all that). If I had, maybe I had known about a lot of my high school friends’ sexuality. Looking back, we were just a group of friends, boys a girls, nobody cared about boyfriends/girlfriends (we were friends from 12-16). Then we went our separate ways, and we lost touch. And now I see in Facebook that they are gays and lesbians, and I’m like… :/ we didn’t know much about those things back then. And I hope I didn’t make any comments who could offend/affect them. But it makes me so happy to see them being themselves and living with they’re boyfriends and girlfriends… 😊 I just wish I could have been a better friend back then 🤷🏻‍♀️. But now I pay attention to that. And I always try to show support in a non invasive way. And try to educate people about who they’re been homophobic, or make not appropriate comments… like there’s this boy (around 16) that likes to paint his nails. And I love everything to do with nails. And, at the shop, I comment on people’s nails (if I know them enough, lol). And I always try to say something nice to this guy. To normalize the fact that he has his nails painted (and no make a statement that I approve of it, if someone else is listening, so they don’t make rude comments around me). And then my friend’s sister is Lesbian. But their mother is so ancient-minded… like, my friend has a dit of fat, and she’s always making comment about how she should be skinnier bc she won’t ever find a husband 😒. And her sister is very thin. And once, she was working as cleaner in a /cuartel de la guardia civil(?)/. And their mother was always: hmmm, I hope she finds a good guy there, bc she’s never had a boyfriend. And I always thought: I wonder why, lol. Well, she finally came out to her parents, and while they don’t treat her different (which I don’t know if it’s good or no), they’re like “waiting” she changes her mind. And hoping she finds a boyfriend. Anyway, her mother is friends with my mom, and she comes to visit at the shop sometimes, and she always has a comment to make about what people do or don’t do. And I get so angry 😡. I’m always correcting her. But she doesn’t listen. And I feel sorry for my friend and her sister. So whenever I have the chance I saw her my support, and always talk about these things, lol. (I talk so much about lgbt+ things, that my family associates me with it, to the point that every time they see a rainbow or whatever they tell me: look look! And I just satisfied with it. At least they don’t make so much homophobic comments anymore 😒)

YOUR MOM IS AN ANTI? How? “Why would they fake a baby?” Thats a good question with awful answers. I miss RBB&SBB.😍 (I havent explained that to anybody, yet. But once while playing a game my cousins choose Rbb as his nickname so i choose Sbb and our friends started making questions and we where like? 1d things? Long story, leave it for another day? I’m glad they dont remember it bcs i wouldnt know how to explain that😂😂). Was your friend a fan of 1d too? (7)

Well, she isn’t a nasty anti, jajajja, but she doesn’t think they’re together. Not for nothing special, just that she thinks they would say it if they were together. And since they haven’t say it, they aren’t together. But I’ve shown her the famous Christmas pic, and she doesn’t Thing B was ever pregnant. And I show her pics of F to ask for an outsider opinion, and she doesn’t think the kid looks like Louis at all, lmao. So, I think if they ever come out, she wouldn’t care at all. Bahhh, I’ve talked about RBB/SBB with my friend sometimes, but it’s so bad of a thing, that we don’t come to a conclusion. She isn’t a fans, sadly. But she likes celeb gossip, and I like to talk, so… yesterday she came to visit/ to get her arms waxed (bc that’s my other unofficial job) and she ended up staying for 2 hours. Bc we had see each other briefly lately, couldn’t sit and talk properly in a while. And she always asks me about 1d, bc she knows I love to talk about it,jajaja. And I have a sideblog where I reblog things to show her. And well, yesterday we talked a little about BG, and I showed her the no-belly pic, and she was… 😳. And she thinks louis and Harry must be together, at least at some point, bc the way the touched wasn’t in a friendly way. She now has a boyfriend, and she kept saying: I’m not a very touchy person with my friends or my family, but when I’m with him I always want to touch him or kiss him, and that’s what those two were always doing. And I’m always: do you think that for real, or are you just saying it so I stop talking?? Jajjaja. And yes, she’s convinced they are/were together. She asked me if I think they’re still together, and I told her that now more than ever, but it’s a long story, so we should talk about it another time, bc lol, we were just talking about it for a couple of hours, and we both had things to do. So, we’ll keep talking another time.

Of course, I dont share that info with everybody, but I dont mind my friends knowing. I have this one friend that i bother everytime i get frustated bcs of a fic. I tell him the plot, and what is happening and i cry about it (and he laughs at me but at least he listens). Sometimes i make him choose which one should i read next when i cant decide. (9)

I almost did a fic reference yesterday talking with my friend, and I stopped myself midsentece, and laughed (I thought of you,jajaj) and she was so confused!! But she’s used to my weirdness, so we just laughed it way. And I kept talking, jajajajaj.

Girl, i have 6 dioptres😂😂 Thats what i have forbid myself from reading on the phone. No, i havent read that one, but its now on the list. I’ll tell you when i do! Though it make take a while :( (I understand you. Dont worry). (10)

😳 6?!!?! Please take care of your eyes!!! Stop reading… everything!! Jajaja. No, I’m kidding. I know about people who has 8… so you’re still ok,jajajaj. I have 1, but my ophthalmologist told me I’m very sensitive to change, bc I thought I had 27463 diopters, bc I saw so poorly 🙄🙄.

Yes, i also like IDGAF more than New Rules. They have overplayed that one. Have you heard Blow Your Mind? I love that one. It’s also a single so…i guess you have heard it? You’ll get amazing shots, i’m sure. Honey was sleeping on you? 😭😭😭😭 I love hiiim (11)

I listened today Room for 2 and Homesick, and I think I like them. I’ll have to listen this new one two. For me, to like a song, I have to heard /a lot/ (not as much as Despacito, please). It has to have a catchy tune. That’s why I think a like Carolina, or Woman, or Kiwi, and I don’t understand why people is so fidyfvbure about the lyrics, jajjaja.Honey is always sleeping on me. The other day Liam was sleeping between my legs, and Honey came and just laid on top of my poor limo. And I wanted to kill him, bc liam never comes to sleep with me. They’re so different… but I love them both.

Oh, my little sister. I just wanted to tell you that yesterday was her birthday. She almost cried when she saw that me and my older sister had brought her Flicker deluxe as a present. (We hadnt bought it yet. Dont judge us). She was freaking out just bcs of that and i was laughing so hard thinking that she’s gonna pass out when she sees the rainbow flag her friends have gotten her for Nialls show. And also another pair of Cds. She wont survive the show. Poor thing. But she was so happy 😍😍 (12)You start next week? Okay. I’ll ask again next wednseday. Have a nice daaaay!!

Not judging, you’re amazing sisters!! Awww, poor thing!! She will have an amazing time at Niall’s concert, for sure. And, yes, please, tell her to bring the flag. I’m so happy seeing how people are starting to bring rainbow flags to niall concerts too. And have you seeing that he has taken pics with rainbow flags?? He even brought one to the stage the other day!! It makes me inexplicably happy to say everything covered in rainbows. There was so much at Harry’s show too, my sister said it looked like a pride parade. Hey, Dunkirk it’s about to start khbkhdfbvkjdnfvkjndfv. But, have YOU SEEING THE NEW ROYAL BABY WAS NAMED AFTER LOUIS?????? AND HIS TWEET?!?!? IM SCREAMED!!!! Dijffvjkbdded. Bye love. I have to feed my cats before the movie starts!!! Aaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!

#anon #I just saw ask 5 is missing??#kjdjeidobcioedcboie.#sorry #Dunkirk is about to start and I’m sihdbkddhvhbjefv #EDIT: anon!! I forgot to ask you if you’re the middle sister?? me too!! I have so much to say of how that position influence people's #personality #jajajajajaa #and I can related to Harry and Louis too #🤦🏻‍♀️

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