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tloujm · 3 years

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Part XV: How About Now?

Author’s Notes: Nothing to see here but Joel slowly breaking out his dad jeans and interacting with the fic’s newest character. I hope y’all enjoy this one. It’s a little bit longer than the last two and its a build up to some major fluffy plot development.

Genre: Fluff with a couple drops of angst

Summary: Joel tries to bond with the new girl. He convinces you to go camping with him. The two of you take the relationship to the next level.

Ship: Joel x Reader

Joel’s boots crunched against the wet gravel as he found himself walking toward the daycare center. He knew that you’d be there. This week had been so busy for the two of you, that you’d barely gotten time to see each other. He acknowledged what the feeling was that pulled at his heart strings; he missed you.

With the intention of pulling you away from your duties, if only for a moment, Joel walked inside and glanced around the play room for you. His eyes fell on something familiar, but it was not you. It was his jacket that he recognized, still wrapped around the shoulders of the new little girl who arrived in Jackson not so long ago. It was as if she had never taken it off. Joel noticed that she was sitting by herself at a table. As he walked closer, he found that she was drawing. His heavy footsteps alerted her, causing her to drop the pencil in her hand and look up at him. With a low grunt, he crouched down until he was eye level with her.

She shrugged off the jacket and handed it to him. “No, you can keep it, kiddo. I have another.” He waved it away before she placed it on her lap like a blanket. “Let’s see what you’re drawing here. Oh, well now I believe this one is called a Velociraptor. Yep, I learned this from a little known movie that came out back in…’93 I wanna say. Some feisty creatures. They may have been small compared to the rest, but you wouldn’t wanna get on the wrong side of those fellas.” Joel said, filling up the air of the one sided conversation. “You ever seen a dinosaur in real life? S’pose you haven’t. That’s wayyyy before your time.” He attempted to make her laugh. “Technically, I’ve seen them, their bones at least. I used to go to science museums all the time before the outbreak. You’ve probably never been to one, have you?” He genuinely waited for an answer, to which she barely shook her head. “I know of one not too far from here. Maybe me and (Y/N) will take you one day if you’re up to it.” Joel got back up slowly and stretched his legs until his knees popped. He tipped his imaginary cowboy hat as a farewell and continued his search for you.

Joel eventually found you in the backyard taking down laundry from the line. “Hi, darlin’.”

You put the clip back on the line and threw yourself into his arms. “Hey! I missed you.” Hearing you say that melted his heart.

“Missed you too. You know, I was thinking we should go campin’.”

“That’s random.” You laughed off his suggestion.

“Why? I reckon we can go hiking, fish, cozy up next to a fire, lay under the stars.”

“I don’t even know how to fish.”

“I’ll teach you.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I might be a bit rusty. I mean I haven’t gone fishing since I was a kid, but I’ll get back into the swing of things. But those other things, I know you like.”

“I mean I do, but we can do that here in Jackson.” You countered.

“Yeah, but it’ll be something different.”

“I don’t know, Joel. Ever since we settled here, we haven’t gone beyond the gates unless we had to.”

“C’mon now, don’t tell me you forgot about your birthday. The aquarium, remember?”

You glare at him knowingly. “How can I ever forget. But in my defense, I didn’t know we were going to leave the walls of Jackson. All you said was that it was a surprise and that was it. I just don’t want to run into any hunters or people from a hostile settlement.”

“I thought I was the worrisome one in this relationship.” Joel joked. “Listen, this ain’t our first rodeo. We’ve survived a lot out there and not for nothin’. People or clickers, we’re good at staying alive and even better at it when we’re together.” He placed his hands on your shoulders and rubbed them up and down your arms. “I promise we won’t go far. We’ll pick a patch of land along a recently cleared route. I trust you. You trust me?” You nodded. “Good! We’ll have fun! This is excitin’.”

“You know, I’ve never gone camping before.” You spoke up.

“Really? Not even an RV or cabin?”

You shook your head. “You know I love nature just as much as you, but I’m really just a city girl. I was used to seeing animals on tv or behind a barrier at the zoo. The wildest animal I’d ever seen before the outbreak was a raccoon. Maybe the occasional deer. The closest to hiking I ever did before was at a nature preserve park. It may all be outside, but damn, the actual woods are a whole other story.” He let out a light laugh. “Before the outbreak, I bought all my meat from the store and had a tendency to kill every plant I owned.”

“Well now look at ya, a natural country girl.”

You laughed. “I never chose this life. This life chose me.”

“It chose a lot of folks, but it suits you.”

“You don’t gotta butter me up anymore, I already agreed to go camping with you.” You said while giving him a sly smile.

“I mean it, it does.”

“Why do you wanna go camping anyway? I can see a hike for the afternoon, but everyday out there since the outbreak has felt like one big camping trip.”

“That wasn’t campin’. The difference is that campin’ is fun, you’ll see.” He tried to convince you.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” You said. He looked at you blankly. “Why though! We’ve been in Jackson for years now and you’ve never suggested it before.”

He shrugged. “Now just seems like a good time. Jackson’s in a good place. They won’t miss us for a day or two. Besides, we have some downtime coming up and I feel like I haven’t really gotten to spend time with you in awhile. I just want it to be you and me again for a minute.” He blushed at the last part.

You smiled at his defensive romantic side. “Kind of like a romantic weekend getaway?” You playfully wiggled your eyebrows.

He deepened the tone of his voice. “That’s exactly what it’s gonna be.”

“When should we go?”

“How’s the day after tomorrow sound?” He suggested.

“Sounds perfect.” You replied. The idea of camping was growing on you. The clothes line was now empty and the basket was full of folded linen. Joel followed you as you walked back inside to put them up.

“Now, onto other business.” He began.

You looked back in confusion. “What else is there?”

“I don’t know if you recall, but I remember a certain someone promising another certain someone that she’d move in with that…certain some...the original someone…wait um...” Joel began stammering over his thoughts. “It’s you. That certain someone was you who promised that if I made you breakfast in bed, you’d live with me again; no more of this back and forth. And if you recall again, I did in fact make you that breakfast.”

“Pancakes and freshly squeezed orange juice? How could a girl forget? They were delicious by the way.”

“For bonus points, I do remember being right as well when I said there wasn’t gonna be any bloaters in that manor.” Joel added on. “So what do you say?” He asked, trying to hide his eagerness.

“Suppose you were right about that, so yeah sure.” You said.

He looked at you for a moment before looking down at his feet. “Don’t make it sound like you’re doing it because you lost a bet or somethin’. If you’re not ready, I have no intention of forcing you, but,” He lets out a sigh. “I guess I don’t understand why you wouldn't want to.”

“Joel, I didn’t mean to say it like that. I love you, you know that.”

“Sounds like a ‘but’ is coming on.”

“It’s just new to me is all. I know we’ve lived together once, but I’ve never had a serious relationship with anyone before you and I sure as hell never lived with a romantic partner before you. The outbreak happened right after I graduated college. I only ever lived with my parents and a couple of roommates. I know it sounds stupid, but I’ve never had my own place before where it was just me doing whatever I wanted, however I wanted, wherever I wanted. I love spending time with you, believe me I do, but there’s something about having your own space, you know. I hate the way in which I got here, me having my own place, but I’ve grown to like it. Does that make me selfish?” You genuinely asked.

He let out a deep sigh. “No, it doesn’t. But, you know It’d be your house too. It won’t be you moving into my house; it’d be you coming back to our house. If you’re comfortable here, I can move in with you or we can find a whole new house altogether.”

“I don’t know, Joel.” You replied.

“Just think about it alright, darlin?” He requested. He stuck his hands in his back pockets and paced the floor around the linen closet. The air fell silent, but he wasn’t done pleading his case. He just had to find the words. “You may account your life experiences, or lack thereof, to being young, but you probably never thought about the fact that I’ve never lived by myself before the outbreak either. I was a teen dad. I went from living with my dad and brother to living with my daughter and her mother. After she left us, it was just me and Sarah all the way up until that day. After me and Tommy fell out, I was on my own for the first time. I...uh...It wasn’t easy; none of it.” He shook his head before looking at you with tired, pleading eyes. “I’m tired of being alone, (Y/N).” He sniffled and then you saw the corner of his mouth twitch up. “I know I’m not much to look at in the morning, but I want nothing more than to wake up next to you everyday. That’s where I stand, (Y/N), but if that’s not where you are, that’s ok ‘cause you’re the only one I’d wait for. I just want you to want this too.”

“Joel, I never...I” You tried to begin. He was right, you never thought about the fact that he always had someone. When you first met him, you grew to know him as a withdrawn, independent man. “I want to wake up next to you too, but not just that. I want to spend the middle of my day and end of my day with you too in our house.” You stood on your tiptoes and rubbed the pad of your thumb against his wrinkles.

He closed his eyes at your touch. “I need you to mean that.”

“I do.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too!” You smiled up at him.

“How much longer do you have here?” Joel inquired.

“I just have to finish folding the laundry.”

“Meet me at your place when you’re done. I’ll go and find some boxes.”

“Wait, what?”

“What better time than now? The rest of my day is clear and we still have a few more hours of daylight. What do you think, darlin’?” You playfully rolled your eyes at his eagerness, but seriously couldn’t think of a reason not to start today.

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ikemencrossedmyth · 4 years

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Fury Chapter 2

Pairing: Comte x reader

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Summary: You head into town and run into the men from yesterday, who are determined to get their money’s worth from you.

Rating: 18+

Count: 5,709

Warnings: violence, assault, blood

[AO3]

Part 1

Art was made by @nan-chi

Chapter 2: The Beginning of a Tragedy

“Maybe we’ll see you around town mademoiselle”.

“I don’t believe so Monsieur”, you replied.

The men watched as you and Comte walked away from them, heading deeper into the city. The taller man chuckled to himself,

“Looks like that crazy man was right, Jacques. He knew exactly when that girl would show up.”

“Of course! I told you that he was legitimate, Pierre. Now that you understand that his information is valid, can we please get on with getting our money back?!”

He looked up at Pierre, exasperated that they had to waste this time to prove that his information was genuine.

“Now, he said that every day the girl heads into town to shop. Specifically, she always seems to buy baguettes.” Jacques said.

Pierre looked down at his friend, confused and clueless.

“What does that matter? Who cares if she buys bread? What about our damn money?!”

“Pierre, you’re an idiot. Tomorrow she will be going to the new bakery at the far side of the city. He made sure of it. As long as we know that she will be at that bakery, we know we can get compensated. One way…or another”, he smirked.

His eyes glistened with his ill intentions for the little lady. Pierre nodded in understanding, an evil grin creeping upon his face. He loosened his collar and snickered,

“I can’t fucking wait”.

The Next Morning

You woke up early every day to help Sebastian with preparing breakfast. You sat up and felt your body ache all over. A chill passed through your body.

“Oh no, I can’t be getting sick!”, you thought to yourself.

After denying that you were getting sick yesterday, you were determined to continue working, and hopefully Comte would not notice. If he did, you knew that he would make you stay in bed all day. Quietly, you crept back to your room, and prepared for what you knew would be a long day. Especially with how crummy you felt.

Before leaving your room, you looked yourself over in the mirror to make sure that you didn’t look too sick. Your hair was pulled away from your face, as the rest cascaded down your back. You were wearing a white long sleeve button down shirt, tucked into a maroon skirt. You lay your hands flat on the front of your skirt, pressing out any remaining wrinkles. Forcing a smile, you nodded to yourself before heading out of your room. You headed down to the kitchen, where Sebastian had already began cooking the pancakes that Theo basically worshiped. Your first task was always to prepare the rouge. After that, you pulled out the rest of the ingredients for breakfast and began to prep them for Sebastian. You then set the table and headed back to help him with the little that remained. You could hear some of the residents making their way towards the dining table.

Normally you would see Theo with Vincent, as they usually never missed breakfast. But this morning, Theo was alone.

“Where’s Vincent? Is he feeling unwell?”

“He’s fine Hondje, he’s just finishing a painting for that stupid playwright he calls a friend.”

At the mention of William, your heart jolted. You had just met the man yesterday, the experience wasn’t terrible, except for Comte getting upset. And yet, by hearing his name, you felt an apprehension that you could not describe. An uneasiness swirled around in your mind. The chatter of the other residents broke you out of your thoughts. As breakfast finished, you cleared the table and helped Sebastian tidy up. Preparing for breakfast was not a strenuous task, but today, you could feel a throbbing pain that was beginning to take hold in your muscles. Unconsciously, you let out a little groan. Sebastian looked over to you.

“Comte told me yesterday that you may have gotten sick. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. Comte is just being a bit overprotective, you know how he is” you said as you smiled at Sebastian.

“You know, he would be very upset if something happened to you. If you need to rest, then please, take the remainder of the day off in your room. I can take care of the shopping in town.”

“Sebastian”, you huffed, “It’s okay, I’ll be fine. If I start to feel absolutely terrible, I will take your advice and rest. How does that sound?”

Sebastian knew that you could be so ridiculously stubborn. He sighed resignedly, “Very well, _____”

Once the cleanup for breakfast was over, it was already afternoon and time for you to head into town to get the ingredients. As you reached the top of the stairs, your muscles began to burn and you felt a flash of cold hit your skin. You could already tell that by tomorrow you would definitely be sick. “Okay, tomorrow I will definitely have to take the day off, but today should be fine for me to keep working.” You thought to yourself. As you were nearing your door, you heard a noise come from behind you. You turned around and saw that Vincent was coming out of his room. He was carrying a small painting that was draped in a white cloth.

“Vincent, I missed you at breakfast this morning.” You said.

“Sorry _____, I was finishing a painting for William that I absolutely want to get to him today. I am actually heading out right now to give it to him. I promise I will be at breakfast tomorrow though.” Vincent said as he smiled sweetly. He really was the angel of the mansion. His gentle voice and nature always set a calming presence in whatever situation he found himself in.

You began to smile at Vincent, but then let out a terribly loud sneeze. This was the mother of all sneezes. The sneeze that makes people want to keep 20 feet back. It sounded like an elephant taking down a velociraptor. You and Vincent just stared wide eyed at each other in complete silence.

“Oh God, please kill me now!” you thought. How embarrassing, and especially in front of Vincent! Vincent’s smile widened, he had never heard anyone, especially a woman, sneeze like that. Women of the past were not as boisterous, but he liked that about you.

“_____, if you are not feeling well, I can tell Sebastian on my way out. I’m sure he would be more than okay with you relaxing and getting some sleep. Please, I don’t want you to get sick.”

Ugh, could Vincent be any sweeter? This angel was really not going to mention the deafening sneeze-roar that you just unleashed? You smiled weakly at him, “Vincent, it’s okay. I’m just going to get some stuff done and then I’ll rest.” You turned around and rushed to your room, mortified of what just happened. You slipped inside, leaned back, and rested your head on the door.

“Why me? Why is it always me?” you pondered aloud. Well there was no taking it back, at least Vincent was nice about it. You went to your dresser and pulled out the money and list, getting ready to head into the town.

Vincent lightly chuckled to himself as he saw you rushing away. He turned on his heels and quickly made his way downstairs. Sebastian was making his way out of the kitchen as Vincent came to the bottom of the stairs.

“Sebastian, could I have a moment of your time?”

“Of course, Vincent, how can I help?” Sebastian asked.

“I just spoke to _____, and she appears to be very sick. I told her that you would be okay with her resting. She is in her room right now.” Vincent said.

“Thank goodness, I thought nothing would get her to go to her room.” Sebastian said. “Thank you very much Vincent.”

“You are very welcome Sebastian.” Vincent said. With a smile, Vincent left the mansion.

Sebastian then began to prepare to head into town. He had given you the list yesterday, but he did not want to disturb you in your room. He headed back into the kitchen to see what was missing and make a new list.

It’s interesting how fate works out sometimes. If he had waited a couple seconds longer, he would have seen you come down the stairs and out the door, making your way into town.

Sebastian finished the list after a couple minutes of quick inventory of the kitchen. Leonardo strolled leisurely into the kitchen with a cigarillo in his mouth.

“Sebas, I’m running low on my smokes. Do you have any more for me?” he asked.

“Yes Leonardo, right here.” Sebastian opened the top cupboard and pulled out box of fresh cigarillos and handed them to Leonardo.

“That is the last box Leonardo.”

Leonardo eyed the list on the counter.

“Could you have _____ pick up a couple of boxes when she goes into town today?”

“I am actually about to go into town right now. She got sick yesterday and is in her room resting.” Sebastian said.

“Ah, I see, well thanks for the cigarillos Sebas.”

“You are most welcome Leonardo.”

Sebastian grabbed some money and his new list and left out the front door into town.

Leonardo was languidly walking to his room, to put away his new box of cigarillos. He was passing by Comte’s room and saw the door was open.

“Hey, you know that _____ is sick? Did she say anything to you? She looked fine at breakfast.” Leonardo said.

Comte sucked his teeth at Leonardo, “I knew she was sick, but she denied it yesterday. I saw that she was shivering as we came back from town. I’m going to go talk with Sebastian and tell him she will be doing no more work until she is better.”

“No need for that, she is already resting in her room. Sebas just left to town.”

Comte smiled at his old friend, “Thank you for telling me Leonardo.”

“Whatever, I just know how you get about _____.” Leonardo smiled.

Leonardo walked away to his room as Comte continued with the mountain of paperwork that he desperately needed to finish.

Little did everyone know that a huge misunderstanding had occurred at the mansion. No one knew of the danger that awaited you in the great city of Paris.

The afternoon sun shone on your skin with a welcome heat. The warm rays kissed your face and warmed your body as you made your way through town. You stopped by several different shops in the bustling city, trying to get everything on the list so you could make it back in time for dinner. The last stop was the bakery.

As always, you purchased a couple baguettes for dinner. It was always on the menu. Traveling to the past, you could almost see why the French Revolution came about because of a shortage of bread. The stuff was a staple in everyone’s home. You entered the bakery and walked up to the counter.

“I would like three baguettes Monsieur.” You asked politely.

“Oh, _____ I thank you for your repeated patronage, but unfortunately, we are all out of bread.”

“What? How is it that you are already out of bread?” you asked.

“Well you see, we received a large donation from a local writer, and in return, we were asked that all our available bread be given to the local orphanage for their lunch. It was such a kind request from a generous person, there was no way we could turn it down. And to top it off, he’s British! I know we don’t usually get along with the English, but this Monsieur really went out of his way to show kindness to those in our community who are less fortunate.” The baker said.

“Wow, that is amazing! I’m shocked to think that one man could have bread brought to an entire orphanage. He must be a very noble man.” You said.

“Well, not exactly. I’ve been seeing him a lot in the pub across the street.” The baker said.

“He must be talking about Arthur.” You thought. You knew that Arthur was well off and the idea that he would dedicate such a kind act to children made you feel more fondness for the writer. But you couldn’t stand here and dwell on Arthur, you had to get back to the mansion.

“We are currently preparing more bread if you wish to wait.” The baker said.

“I wish I could, but I can’t. I have to get back in time for dinner.” You said.

Your head was starting to pound at this point. You knew for sure that when you got back you were going to take a nice hot bath and then sleep the night away. This was the last stop and you were hoping to get back soon. You kicked yourself mentally for not buying the bread earlier. You usually left the bread for last, because you wanted it to be as fresh out of the bakery as possible for the residents. The baker looked at her.

“You know, the new bakery that just opened up should have baguettes available. They are much bigger than us, so they should definitely have some left!”

“That’s right! I went there yesterday. But even then, they were low on bread.” You said.

“Well, from what I heard, they were also asked to donate bread yesterday. But considering they are a bigger shop; they still had some left over.”

“Thank you so much, I’ll head there immediately!” you said.

You left the bakery and began to walk quickly towards the other bakery. The afternoon was drawing to a close, and you did not want to get caught in the cold afternoon as the sun was beginning to set.

You finally reached the bakery and headed inside. Walking up to the counter, you purchased your bread, the final ingredient on the list. Now it was time for you to head back to the mansion and rest. You left the bakery and began your journey back to the mansion. The aching feeling in your muscles began to grow, as you forced one foot in front of the other. You opened and closed your hands, in an attempt to warm them. The sun had just set behind the horizon. It’s light beginning to fade. In your haze, you did not notice the two sets of eyes staring at you, waiting for the opportunity that had been laid in their lap.

“There she is Jacques!” Whispered Pierre. “Let’s get her.”

“No, wait till she is a bit closer to the alley, then grab her, cover her mouth, and pull her in.” Jacques said.

You were walking closer to the old brick building, trying to not get in the way of the pedestrians and carriages that were on the road. As you crossed the alley, a set of hands shot out of the dark. One hand around your waist, and the other clamped tightly around your mouth.

Your heart rate quickened; panicked you tried to resist, but the arms were too strong as they pulled you further and further from the noisy street. Tears pricked your eyes and you struggled to break free from your assailant. His arm was crushing your ribs, as he pressed you to him, while dragging you into the dark and musty alley. You dug your heels into the ground, trampling over your skirt. You tried to flail your body, anything you could do to get free. You could hear another voice, another man.

You recognized that voice, and you felt your blood run cold. Not from a fever, but from pure fear. Your body began to shake. Your breathing escalated as your heart began to pump fast. It was the two men from yesterday. Your mind raced, looking for any opportunity to escape or to call for help.

“This was too easy Jacques” Pierre said as he smiled smugly.

“Ha! Of course, I told you that Will wouldn’t cheat us.” Jacques said. “I fucking hate the English, but that guy is alright in my book. I mean, he even bought all that fucking bread.” He laughed.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You didn’t want to believe it. Were they talking about William Shakespeare? The man you had met just yesterday, it couldn’t be. You didn’t want to think that a man that Comte associated with would be capable of doing something like this. But all the puzzle pieces began to fall into place. It wasn’t Arthur that the baker was talking about, it was William. William Shakespeare was the cause of the situation you were in. William was the puppet master to your misfortune. It was as if the threads of your fate were handed to him, and he wielded your life like a game.

Jacques proceeded to pull out a knife and waved it in front of your face. He pressed the cool flat of the blade against your face.

“If you make any loud noise, I will not hesitate to slice you open, you got it? The fucking moment I hear any attempt for help, I’m going to gut you.”

You nodded as tears streamed down your face. Your mouth trembled as Pierre released you into Jacques arms. Jacques looked at Pierre.

“Go guard the entrance to the alley.” With those orders, Pierre began to walk away, leaving you alone with his friend. Jacques looked you up and down.

“Pay me back the money you owe. Either you pay or Comte de Saint Germain pays.”

Your stomach turned. He knew who Comte was all along. Yesterday’s game of calling him her benefactor was just a joke. This whole time they knew.

“I don’t have any money.” You choked out. You could not stop crying as your voice was quivering with fear.

“I was hoping you would say that.” His smile was evil, pure evil. “If you can’t pay with money, then you will pay another way. One way that will show Comte the error of his ways.”

With those final words, he grabbed you by the throat and slammed you into the side of the brick building. The pounding in your head increased tenfold. You could no longer see straight. Your world was spinning as your head felt like it had been split open in two. Trying to regain your senses, you looked at the stocky man as his leering smile held nothing but contempt for your predicament. The area where he smashed your head against the rough brick was bleeding profusely. It trickled down your face and onto your blouse, staining the white fabric into a deep crimson. The spot on your blouse began to grow, as the blood continued to flow from your wound. The man proceeded to pull his knife back up to your face and traced it down to your neck. He began to cut the buttons off your blouse, working his way down to your skirt.

“No way, this can’t be happening!”

He lowered his head to the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. His tongue ran from the base of your neck, over his fingers and up to the shell of your ear. You were struggling to breath, as his fingers were still held tight against your throat. The tears in your eyes were flowing freely and every colour was beginning to blur into the next. He was barely allowing you small gasps of air. He relished the struggle and the ‘prize’ that he had won.

You knew that it was now or never, that even if it meant getting hurt more, you needed to call for help. Anything to get the attention of the people on the main street.

At that moment, there was a loud commotion on the main street. It sounded like a street performer had captured an audience and you could hear that the people were beginning their uproar.

Jacques looked towards the commotion.

There it is, your one and only opportunity.

You kicked Jacques as hard as you can straight in the crotch. He keeled over and screamed out in pain. His scream alone captured the attention of some people. You took a huge gulp of much needed air, and with all your strength, you screamed into the wind, you screamed to anyone that would be willing to listen to your pleas of rescue.

Sebastian was making his way to the new bakery. He couldn’t believe that the regular bakery was out of bread, but he couldn’t deny that they were out of bread for a good reason. The baker had also told him of the benefactor that had donated bread to the orphanage. The last item on the list was some baguettes, and then he would be on his way home.

He picked up the pace as he neared the bakery. He turned the corner and he could see the bakery at the end of the block. On the right-hand side of the street there was a large group gathered around a young man who looked to be selling something to a group of people on the streets. Snake oil salesman have always been a business, no matter what time period, but it seemed like this man had captivated the people as they marveled at whatever gadget he was showing.

Sebastian wanted to get a closer look, as the crowd kept getting larger and larger around the man, but that was when he heard your scream. A blood curdling scream for help rang out as Sebastian whirled around, trying to pinpoint where the scream was coming from.

Why is she here? Isn’t she supposed to be at home?

Sebastian ran towards your voice, his heart pounding in his chest. He began to sweat as he feared the worst. He came to the alley that Pierre had been guarding. Pierre now had his back turned to Sebastian, as he heard his friend scream in pain, and then your accompanying shouts.

“Hey! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Pierre yelled at you. Sebastian took the opportunity to knock Pierre in the back of the head. Pierre turned around and took a swing at Sebastian. He dodged the punch with a swift step to the side and gave Pierre a nasty uppercut to his chin. As Pierre crumbled to the ground, Sebastian ran forward to where Jacques was still curled on the ground, with you still struggling to catch your breath. Sebastian took in your appearance, your cut blouse, the blood running down your face and onto your chest. The dirt and grime of the alley was evident on your skirt. Sebastian neared you.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You looked at Sebastian with tears in your eyes and threw yourself into his arms. Sebastian gripped you as you began to sink back to the ground, your blood staining his clothes.

“No, we have to get out of here _____. We have to get back to the mansion. Can you stand, we need to move quickly.”

You nodded weakly and leaned on Sebastian to stand. Sebastian was right, this was your sole opportunity to escape. The men were temporarily incapacitated, and once they regained their senses, there was no telling what would happen. You grabbed Sebastian’s hand and you both began to run. The sun had already set, and there was even less light in the dusk that surrounded you both. Sebastian was pulling you towards the entrance of the alley, near the main street. Pierre was still on the ground moaning in pain, but he saw you and Sebastian. He lurched forward to try to grab you, but Sebastian quickly putting his hand around your waist, pulled you into his side and avoided Pierre.

“Get that bitch! Don’t let them get away Pierre!”

You and Sebastian looked back to see that Jacques was still cradling his crotch where you had kicked him, but he was looking at you and Sebastian. His eyebrows were creased in anger. Pierre stood up and held his head where Sebastian had attacked him. He took a couple wobbly steps towards you two.

“We need to leave NOW!” Sebastian shouted.

The main street had cleared out in the amount of time that it took Sebastian to find and rescue you. There were only a few people scattered about, as the crowd that was just present had seemingly disappeared. This left the streets clear for you both to sprint back to the mansion.

The cold air was now burning your lungs as you struggled to breath and keep up with Sebastian. You had been running for what felt like ages. Your legs were threatening to give out underneath you as your pace began to slow. It was becoming increasingly painful to run and you could feel yourself close to passing out. You were losing a lot of blood from the deep wound on your pounding head. You turned around to look behind you, and to your terror, you could see that Pierre was following, trying to catch up through the pain of his tussle with Sebastian.

“Sebastian! He’s following us!” you cried.

Sebastian looked back to see that indeed Pierre was getting closer, as he couldn’t move as fast because of your injury and the fever that was now taking hold of your weakened body. The mansion was near, and Sebastian knew that if you didn’t pick up the pace that Pierre would definitely catch up. He bent over and with one hand on your back and the other behind your knees, he lifted you up in his arms and began to swiftly run back to the mansion. You grabbed at your blouse, attempting to keep it closed as your vision began to fade and your breathing became more ragged. You could hear the footsteps behind Sebastian getting closer. Fear seized your heart; he was catching up to you.

Pierre could see you two running up to the mansion. He knew that if you both got inside, that his opportunity to get you would slip away. He pushed a little harder, knowing that he just needed a couple more feet to close the gap between the two of you.

He reached out and grabbed Sebastian’s coat and dragged all of you to the ground. You went tumbling out of Sebastian’s arms and rolled into the dirt. You quickly pushed yourself up from the ground to see Pierre pummeling into Sebastian on the ground beneath him. The door to the mansion was only about 20 feet away. You knew that if you could get one of the vampires to notice, that they could save Sebastian.

You got up and ran the few feet to the door, practically knocking it open and began to scream for help, but not before you heard the running of footsteps behind you, causing you to turn to look back outside, only to come face to face with Pierre, seething with anger as he closed the short distance between you two, tackling you to the ground just inside the door.

Inside the mansion, it was nearing dinner time, but Sebastian had not made his way back from town. Some of the residents were already in the dining room, as they were used to every night. Comte had made his way into the dining room to see some of his residents chatting, while others were sitting at the dining room table.

“That’s odd, where’s Sebastian?” he thought.

It was at that moment that all the vampires stopped talking, it was as if all at once, they sensed something.

“Do you smell that?” Arthur asked.

It was a smell that they were all too familiar with, the sweet smell of blood. But this was different, there was a lot of it, more than their usual dose of rouge with dinner.

BANG!

They all heard the front door forced open and then a shrill scream.

“HELP! PLEASE ANYONE HELP ME!”

All the residents were immediately on alert.

Comte would recognize your voice anywhere, but weren’t you supposed to be resting in your room? He ran to the entrance of the mansion, along with the rest of the residents. He could hear your screams and cries of pain, making him move faster towards the door.

Arriving at the foyer, Comte laid eyes on Pierre. He had straddled your waist after he had tackled you to the ground. He was punching you in the face and chest, as you raised your arms and hands to protect yourself from his blows.

It was in that moment, that time stood still. Comte had never felt the emotion that suddenly came over him. Sure, he had been angry in the past, but since becoming a nobleman, he had learned and accepted the mannerisms of nobility. But in this instance, all customs and courtesy were out the window. He felt an extreme anger flow through his veins. How could this have happened to you? He remembered your words from yesterday.

“With you by my side, nothing is going to happen to me, I trust you.”

You had said those words with a brilliant smile on your face. You had trusted him to keep you safe. He felt all self-control leave his body. His rage boiling over, and he eyed his target: Pierre. The lesser vampires were getting ready to attack, but the pure blood vampires were next to you in an instant.

Comte was using all his instincts as a vampire, all in an effort to end this unjust punishment that was being hurled at your fragile body. The body that had woken up this morning in his safe embrace and was now being assaulted and marred. The smell of your blood permeated the air and hung like a heavy curtain around the vampires. In any other instance, the smell of your blood may have been enticing. But the reality of the moment was that this blood was not given willingly, it was taken from you by the actions of lesser men. Your blood was a staunch reminder that he had indeed failed to keep you, the love of his life, safe.

Comte grabbed Pierre by the back of his neck and launched him off you in one swift move. The only thing he could think about was protecting you. He threw Pierre’s body like a rag doll, landing outside.

Leonardo moved like a flash of lightning after Pierre, while Comte knelt beside your injured body. He could now see your injuries more clearly. There were bruises on your neck from being choked, the wound of your head still had blood trickling down to your exposed chest. He noted how your blouse had been cut down to your skirt. Your blood and tear stained face brought a feeling of guilt over Comte. He was supposed to guard you and yet here you lay on the ground, in agony. He pulled you close to him by your waist. In your panic, you could not tell that Comte was there. You thrashed your arms and legs hysterically, trying to remove your attacker.

“_____, it’s me. Please ma Cherie, look at me.” He held you close to his chest, stopping all your movements. You could smell his familiar scent and looked up to his face. Comte looked down at you with sadness and regret in his eyes. You began to cry violently, your body shaking as you clung to Comte.

“Sebastian! Please help him, he is outside on the ground!”, you whimpered.

The other vampires quickly made their way outside, where Leonardo was making quick work of Pierre. Sebastian lay on the ground passed out a few feet away. A mixture of his and your blood covered his clothes, but the blood on his face was solely his, a result of the injuries Pierre had given him.

Comte picked you up and held you close to his body as you clutched your blouse closed with one hand. He stood in the entry way and faced outside to where the rest of the vampires were.

Arthur was hovering over Sebastian, examining his injuries. Arthur began giving orders to Jean and Dazai to bring a plank on which to transport Sebastian and to grab a medical bag in his room. Comte said a silent prayer of thanks that Arthur had the medical skills to help him.

Comte furrowed his brows at the scene before him. You lay weak and covered in blood, dirt, and bruises, in his arms. Sebastian was passed out with blood on his face and clothes as well. Leonardo had beaten Pierre to a pulp, leaving him a whimpering mess on the ground.

“How could this have happened? Why?” he whispered more to himself than to anyone else.

“It was William Shakespeare, he set it up to where I would meet those two drunkards from yesterday, but Sebastian just happened by and saved me. If it wasn’t for him, who knows where I would be right now.” You said to him, your voice raspy and straining.

Vincent felt the colour drain from his cheeks.

“William? HE did this? No, it can’t be!” he thought as he held his head in his hands.

Theo’s faced twisted into a scowl upon hearing William’s name come from your mouth.

“I knew he was a good for nothing! He will pay for this.”

Arthur snapped his head in your direction when he heard.

“Quite frankly, he’s the type of fellow I’d rather not involve myself with.” He muttered under his breath.

He knew that William was an odd chap, and there were rumors spreading that he would often find himself in questionable situations, all for the sake of his tragedies.

The vampires were furious, they could not fathom that someone would try to hurt you, much less someone that they knew. But none were as upset as Comte. He felt his body grow hot, as the blood running through his veins became like venom, poisoning his mind at the thought of what he would to do William when he got a hold of him. What he wouldn’t do to the man that had caused you such suffering. There was only one emotion that Comte could use to define his unrelenting wrath: Fury.

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dear-mrs-otome · 5 years

Text

Fauvism - IkeVamp (Theo, NSFW)

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Pairing: Theo van Gogh x female MC Warnings: 18+, NS/FW. Blood and biting. Summary: There's only one thing Theo has allowed himself to want. (6.3k words, first-time smut) Author's Note: Many thanks to @velociraptor-detective for the baby joke, and for letting me flail over this.

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The heavy tolling of the grandfather clock at the end of the hall pulled Theo from his work, drowning out the crisp rustle of paper as he set the sheet he’d been reading aside and knuckled his eyes blearily.

Ten at night...when had the day gotten so far away from him?

He straightened up from his desk and scrubbed a hand through his unruly hair, stretching the kinks out of his neck and back with a long sigh. He should be sleeping.

Squaring the stack of correspondence, his eyes fell on a line in one - ‘your assistant’.

His assistant.

He hadn’t thought he’d ever read a phrase like that. Wouldn’t have believed it if anyone tried to tell him as much, six month ago before she’d arrived. Wouldn’t have believed it if anyone tried to tell him that she seemed happy to work with him of her own volition. And definitely would not have believed it if someone insisted that, given the choice of going home again...she’d stay. Here in this foreign country in a foreign time, in a house full of vampires.

He thought she was a fool for it, frankly.

But he knew he was one, every time he lifted his head from studying a painting and found hers still bowed beside him, his fingertips itching to smooth themselves down the fall of her hair. Every time he woke up in the dead of night, twisted up in damp sheets and the clinging spidersilk of dreams, panting with a myriad of thirsts - his throat and his body burning.

Every time the ridiculous, malformed hope managed to sprout again, before he crushed it. The one that whispered that maybe, just maybe, he'd had something to do with her decision.

Everyone in this house was more than half in love with her and her freely-scattered smiles - even Vincent, he suspected at times. Geniuses, artists, warriors and visionaries. And he was...a man. Just that.

Well. Not even that anymore, he supposed. Now he was just too stubborn to stay dead.

And too pitiable to stop dreaming as if he were alive.

Shoving aside those maudlin thoughts, he pulled open the door of his room and made his way towards the kitchens instead of his bed. If he knew her half as well as he thought he did, she’d still be awake. Somewhere in the house, still trying to make herself useful, and the kitchen was always a safe bet.

A part of him insisted she was a grown woman, who could take care of her own damn sleep schedule. The other, much larger part, couldn't stop himself from worrying about her. Someone had to, since it had become obvious long ago that she wasn't about to.

A half-dozen steps outside of the kitchen confirmed what he’d already suspected, as the ever-present sweet scent of her hit his nose like a sucker-punch.

He paused a moment and steeled himself, shoving his hands into his pockets in a carefully calculated show of nonchalance, before striding through the doorway.

“Knabbeltje. We have an early client tomorrow. You should be getting every bit of beauty sleep you can.”

She paused in whatever it was she was doing at the far counter and glanced back at him. “So should you, Theo.”

He cracked a grin at her quick retort and ambled closer, peering over her shoulder to see her elbow-deep in a pile of apple peels. “What are you doing?”

“Peeling apples,” she said, with the first hint of an impish smile, and he smothered his own by flicking her softly in the back of the head.

“Cheeky hondje. I can see that. Let me use smaller words - why?”

Her fingers turned the apple she held deftly, a long strip of mottled green and red curling from the paring knife as she worked. “So I don’t have to in the morning. I wanted to do something special for breakfast.”

“Something for Isaac? Here I figured you were the one person in the house who didn’t tease him about that.” He scrounged up a chuckle, even as the thought of her purposefully making anything for anyone rankled him.

“No.” She shook her head, and turned her attention back towards the work in her hands, her expression hidden from him. “I was thinking I’d make you a Dutch baby.”

The blood rushing in his ears was the only sound he heard as he blinked at her, his mind taking her words and galloping a thousand inappropriate places with them, dragging him along for the ride. “I...a what?” He cursed the way his voice broke slightly.

She glanced up at him, and the astonishment must have shown on his face, because hers immediately went incandescent. “A pancake! It’s a type of pancake,” she scrambled. “Have you ever had one?”

She was making food...for him? He busied himself with the coffee grinder and accessories, more to cover his disconcertion than from any real desire for a cup, juggling her sentiment as he measured out a serving. Unsure of what to make of it. “No. I’ve never even heard of it.”

“Ah.” Her small sound of triumph was accompanied by a satisfied smile. “I didn’t think so. I think they’re a bit after your time. But just picture a giant, eggy pancake with apple slices, baked in a skillet until it’s all puffed up and waiting for you to drown it in syrup and whipped cream. The edges get all nice and crispy and the center stays soft and mmm…” She closed her eyes, and hummed with bliss. “I love them. They’re one of the best things for breakfast.”

His fingers spasmed on the grinder handle, and he wondered what he’d done to deserve this special sort of hell - listening to her, smelling like that, describing his favorite food to him in excruciating detail. Especially after that misunderstanding a moment ago still had him...on edge.

Don’t lie. You know pancakes would be demoted to your second favorite thing to eat in a heartbeat, given half a chance, the devil on his shoulder whispered wickedly. Probably even third.

He was halfway through cobbling together a sardonic reply when he heard her hiss in a quick breath that ended on a tiny note of pain, and the knife in her hand clattered onto the counter.

“Hondje, what-” he began, and spun back just in time to see a scarlet droplet run down her wrist to hang off her skin, like the lone garnet bead on a pendant.

They both froze.

"Do you..." That was as far as she got, before her voice failed her, and it ruined him to think it might have been strangled by fear.

"No. I don't need it, I’m fine."

And he didn’t, technically. He’d just finished a glass of rouge an hour earlier. But, God help him...he craved it. Every fiber in him felt parched, as if he would dry up and curl away into dust, and his jaw ached where his fangs so desperately wanted to slip free. Vivid images tumbled through his mind in a rush, the same that haunted him so many nights - of her freely making him such an offer. Of sinking teeth into the soft welcoming pliance of her skin and feeling it give way to him, of the note she might keen as she writhed beneath him while his mouth filled with the sweet nectar that taunted him. Decadent and florid on the breath he sucked in.

It took every ounce of willpower he had to crush the urge to fall on his knees and beg for just that single drop.

Her tongue darted out, pink and bright, to wet her lips. "I wasn't going to ask that. I...was going to ask if you wanted it," she corrected him carefully, and the floor fell out from beneath him.

His hand had reached towards her before he snatched it back. Clenching the fingers that had so obviously trembled into a pale fist at his side. "I-"

"Are you alright, cara mia?" came a voice from the doorway, and his stare finally ripped itself away from that mesmerizing rivulet to find Leonardo standing in the doorway, his head tipped quizzically. His hands were thrust into his pockets languidly, but Theo could see the edge to his casual stance that whispered of violence, just below the congeniality. He'd been in far, far too many fights not to recognize a man one syllable away from swift, brutal action.

"She's fine," Theo bit out curtly.

Leonardo only eyed them mildly, his tawny gaze flickering back and forth between them before taking on a harder glint. "I believe I was asking her."

He took a step into the kitchen, towards her, and heaven help him - Theo felt his next breath leave him on something like a snarl, rattling low and ominous in his chest like nothing he'd heard before, and the hot raw rage that suddenly roiled beneath his skin manifested itself as the fangs that had already been threatening. Sliding into place as he bared them at the other man.

Leonardo froze mid-stride to fix him with an incredulous look, and Theo wasn't sure which of them was the more surprised.

"I am fine. Really. Thank you, Leonardo." She glanced askew at him as well, before turning to the tall man in the doorway. "I appreciate you coming to check."

Leonardo just shrugged, and fished a half-smoked cigarillo out of one pocket to juggle aimlessly between his fingers. "Couldn't miss that smell." His eyes darted pointedly in Theo’s direction. “You’re sure you...ah...know what you’ve got on your hands there, cara mia?”

Another growl tried to clamber its way up Theo’s throat at the casual endearment, but he throttled it mercilessly. It only finally died entirely when he felt her small hand creep up and wrap around his forearm. “I think so. Thank you for asking, but I don’t think I’d feel safer with anyone in this house than Theo.”

It took a great deal of his remaining fraying restraint to smother the triumphant smirk her words incited.

“I see.” Leonardo studied them a moment, before a crooked grin slanted across his face. “Well...ciao, then. You kids have fun now.” He turned on a heel and, with a last jaunty wave over his shoulder, disappeared out the door.

His footsteps had barely faded before she turned back to him, one eyebrow quirked. "What do I have here, exactly? What's going on, Theo?"

"I don’t-" He broke off before he could finish that lie, and raked a hand through his hair, scrambling desperately for some composure that was impossible to find when every deep breath he drew was suffused with the scent of her. His eyes falling everywhere but back on that line of blood.

Her eyes narrowed at his silence. "You didn't answer me earlier, either."

“Because, hondje. You have to understand. If you offer me this, I don’t share.” Don’t! Won’t, howled the beast that lashed along the scaffold of his ribs, like a wolf pacing the treeline restlessly. Stretching the thin ephemeral boundary between civilized and savage taut. Can’t...

“I’m not asking you to. I’m not interested in sharing either.” Her chin lifted another unyielding degree. "I'm just asking you to be honest. Do you want this? Yes, or no?"

"Yes."

The word was wrenched from him, agonized. He'd lied and lied and lied for so long, about countless things, but he couldn't dissemble when her stare was a misericorde. Sliding deftly between the gaps of his armor to dispatch him so effortlessly.

His entire heart was in that single syllable, torn from his chest and laid out for her, offered even if she was unaware. Here it is. Withered and unworthy, but yours.

“So...tell me what you want.” He dared himself to reach out and set fingertips to the fragile skin underneath that chin, traced the subtle rush of blood just below the surface until his touch alighted over her voicebox as his gaze flickered back up to hers. That feeble hope bursting back into full bloom once more. “Say it out loud, so there’s no misunderstanding. So neither of us can take it back.”

“I want you to bite me, Theo. I want more than that, if you'll give it to me."

Her face washed pink but her voice was steady and deliberate, as steady as the eyes that met his undauntingly when she held her bloodied hand up between them and squeezed it into a fist, setting a fresh well of crimson up from her clenched fingers to run between them. Racing along like a fuse touched by flame - the precursor to a cataclysm.

Even if he’d had a reply, he didn’t think he’d have been able to force it out through a throat that burned as fiercely as his did just then.

Leaning in he caught the droplet on a flick of his tongue, and it burst exquisite across his palate. Like biting down on the sweetest summer-warmed strawberry. He couldn’t stop the groan that escaped him as his grip curled around her wrist and tugged it blindly closer, his free arm snaking around her waist to draw her hard up against him. His lips found the warm skin of her palm and closed over the cut, the edges smooth beneath his tongue as he licked away at the slow seep.

Her breath caught in a sharp staccato, and he glanced up. “Does that hurt?”

“…It stings. A little,” she admitted, but there was a smoldering light in her eyes that told him that wasn’t the entire truth.

“Don’t worry.” His mouth curled smugly, and the point of one wicked canine dragged along her skin with the motion. “I’ll kiss it all better.”

The red red line mapped down her wrist, like a cartographer’s warning - here be dragons - but he followed it gladly. Lingered for the briefest of moments to feel her paper-thin skin throb with the frantic beat of her pulse at her wrist, as if it were something trapped. Desperate and begging to be set free.

And with a single swift bite, he did.

She flooded him. Filling his mouth as surely as she did his thoughts, her blood sweet and decadent and somehow full of her. Reflected in faceted fragments of flavor. Ripe and lush, the same as the curve of her lower lip when she smiled. Crisp as the sly words she never hesitated to sling back at him. Laced bright and fresh with the glow of her hair when it was kissed by the sun.

“Oh...” He half-heard her soft exclamation over the bacchanalian clamor of his own heartbeat, felt the way she melted in his arms. “Oh. Theo…”

And fuck. If he hadn’t been a man lost before, he certainly was now - because he’d give anything and everything he was to hear her say his name like that again. Breathless and wondrous and needful, a gossamer thing woven of desire that snared his heart more mercilessly than any net ever could. He drew harder on her skin in a desperate bid for more, sank his fangs in again, deeper, as he swallowed another greedy mouthful, and was rewarded with a gasp that seemed to shake her entire body in the unyielding circle of his arm.

“Do you want me to stop?” He couldn’t resist lifting his lips from her wrist to fix her with a knowing, cocksure smile.

Her unfocused eyes blinked and cleared enough to find his, burnished with desire. “Don’t you dare.” A hand buried itself in his hair and drew him back towards her, and he felt her fingers shaking against his scalp like the last clinging leaves of autumn. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

He went willingly, loosening her collar enough to bury his face in the crook of her neck with a soft snarl, closing his teeth over the sharp ridge of muscle that ran taut between her shoulder and throat. Held her as he drank her down mercilessly, savoring every soft ragged exhalation he felt stir his hair and the fingers that dug into his back. Every writhe and tremor as she moved restlessly against him, desperate for the release of the tension he could feel singing through her.

Until, like a note held too long, he sensed it finally breaking.

He lifted her in his arms, drove the both of them back into the unyielding wall as his mouth sealed over hers, swallowing the sound of her scream down as she came apart in his embrace. Making of it an aperitif. Blood still tinting the kiss as he devoured her in a whole new way and filled his grasp with the soft, yielding weight of her body.

Her tongue slipped boldly past his fangs to meet his own when she recovered, retreating only far enough for her teeth to catch his lip, and he was halfway to unfastening his trousers when a measure of sanity came back to him and he stopped.

“You’re the first thing I’ve wanted for myself in a long, long time. The first thing I’ve let myself want.” He pressed the frantic words to the hollow beneath her ear, felt his own breath wash back at him, hot and fervent. Half-drunk on need and the taste of her. “Tell me I can have you.”

“You can.” Her fingers twisted in his hair, tilting his head up sharply to meet her gaze, and he blamed the brief sting of it for the way his eyes blurred with moisture until he blinked it away. “As much or as little as you want. I’ll give it all to you, as long as you return the favor.”

How did he tell her she already held all that he was in the palm of her small hand?

That he’d been hers from the first moment she’d sat fearlessly at a breakfast table full of vampires and laughed, sweeter than the syrup that had graced his meal?

“Good.” He bit the word out with a click of teeth snapping together, as if shearing through any last bindings that had held him restrained, fangs still bared. His hand left the wall, coming up to cradle the back of her head, holding her gaze on him as he ducked to fill his vision with the sight of her warm eyes. “Then I’ll show you that you’re mine. Mine alone.”

Closing the gap between them he crushed his mouth to hers, desire and fear and possession tangling tightly within his chest as he forced his way past her lips to press his tongue into the delight of her mouth, fingers untangling from her hair to drop to the small firm curve of her backside. Flesh dimpled beneath his harsh grip as he dragged her closer, half against himself and half to perch atop the sturdy worktable, never breaking the fierce kiss as he hoisted her higher, a ragged animal growl climbing in his throat and passing between them.

“I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk straight,” he managed at last when the burning in his lungs forced him to break away, thumb brushing tenderly over her bruised lower lip in discordant opposition to his rough words. “Until you’re covered in my marks and everyone in this house knows as well as you do that you belong to me.”

The tight heat in his groin only flared hotter when she nipped down at the pad of his thumb, a wicked smile curling across her mouth. “Yes,” she challenged, voice rough with arousal. “Please do. Show me how I’m yours.”

Her husky assent pulled a groan from him, lips falling back to hers as he worked her more securely onto the tabletop, hands framing the flare of her hips to clutch her against himself so she could feel the effect her words had on him. How hard and ready he was for her, how the look in her eyes shot straight through him.

“That eager, are you?” He breathed the question into her ear, voice tattered and undone. His tongue swept over the delicate shell, dropping lower to trace the throbbing beat of her heart as it ran down her neck, hands smoothing along the line of her back. The thin weave of her blouse snagging on his fingers as he pulled the hem free of her skirt, but the narrow span of her waist was an even softer satin beneath his palms as he worked his hands under the fabric, tracing the planes of her stomach and circling her navel with his thumbs.

He bent to press his face to the flesh there, tongue darting into the tiny hollow as he licked a path higher, hand working her the fastenings of her top loose until his patience unraveled and he simply pulled it the rest of the way apart, scattering buttons wildly.

“Theo! I liked this shirt!” she squealed.

“I’ll buy you another. I’ll buy you a new one every single day if you let me tear it off you every night,” he offered unrepentantly, delighting in her indignation. “A good master pampers his pet, right?”

He lingered over the sight of her breasts, warmed by the soft glow of the lamps and encased in her modern underthings. Lifting one free of the stifling cup of her bra he circled the berry-bright nipple with his tongue, breathing lightly on the dampness left behind to pebble it tightly before drawing the peak into his mouth and suckling hard, teeth leaving small scrapes and welts as he nipped down at the skin beneath his lips.

She rolled her hips against his, a small moan pulling out of her as the hard ridge of his arousal was ground between them, fitted tightly against her center but still separated by too many layers of clothes. Her hands slipped to the placket of his shirt, hasty fingers racing down the line of buttons until she could shove it off his shoulders and dig her nails into his bare skin as he bowed over her. Ten stinging crescents of beautiful impatience.

Winding her legs tighter around his hips, she pulled him even closer. “Theo,” she breathed, before whatever else she was going to say was lost on a wordless sound of desire.

His jaw flexed at the sound of his name, biting down on the soft mound of breast he’d taken back between his teeth, gratified by the hint of copper that rode his tongue as he pulled away and licked over the wounds he’d left on her skin.

“Mine,” he growled, like a beast crouched over its quarry, rational thought all but flown entirely as he tried to puzzle out the confounding undergarment. He picked up her discarded knife from the counter near them and slid it under the offensive thing, parting it easily. Flicking the useless scraps to flutter to the floor behind them and bending to finally claim the other freed breast, drawing on the flesh until it hardened and she squirmed against him, nipping again to ring the peak with his marks. “This one too.”

He flattened a hand between the wings of her shoulderblades, pressing the taut points of her breasts to his own chest, groaning slightly at the sensation of her curves molding gladly to his body. Nuzzling into the graceful arch of her neck he raked his teeth there too, drawing a shuddering breath that was full of their mingled scents as his fingers skimmed over the bend of her knee and under the edge of her skirt, cupping over the damp heat between her thighs to press firmly against the swollen flesh, thumb seeking the apex of her folds and circling the small bead there, grinding the harsh lace fabric over the sensitive spot.

Her teeth against his shoulder muffled the little cries that each sweep of pressure pulled from her. Drawing back one hand to wrap around his wrist she held him firmly against her, working her body against his touch.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” she gasped, breath hitching.

The only reply he could manage was a rumble of assent, working the soaked fabric aside to curl his fingers through the slick cleft of her, the heat of her core startling against his fingertips. He took his time, tracing slowly up and down her slit, teasing circuits just brushing the hard nub before dancing away again. Thrusting slowly into the warm depths of her, hell-bent on leaving her ruined for any other man. Teasing them both with the pantomime. Purposely pulling her to the brink again and again, pausing every time he felt the first flutters of her body around him until he finally sought out her ear.

“Tell me you’re mine one more time, and I’ll let you come. Make me believe it, and I’ll do it again and again...until you’re spent and sore and can’t even so much as remember your own name, let alone anyone else’s,” he purred darkly, lust and the heady sensation of pleasuring her adding gravel to his already husky tones.

The fingers she’d wrapped around his wrist alternately went lax and dug into his skin, pleading cries and whimpers working out of her lips to echo around the small room. Her hips moved in frustrated restlessness, chasing after the orgasm that he dangled just out of her reach. “Theo.” Her heels dug into the backs of his legs desperately. “I’m yours, I’m yours,” she said, sounding as if she might have agreed to anything at that moment, and he felt her body clutch greedily at his digits still curled inside her. “Please.” The plea was more whimper than word.

Straightening he stared down at her, lips curving in a slow smile at her breathless acknowledgement. Hooded eyes and trembling hands, tiny puffs of breath falling hotly between parted bruised lips as she begged, desire flushing her skin a dusky rose and trapping loose strands of her hair against the dewy surface of her forehead and temples - he’d seen few things as beautiful and erotic in his life.

She was a masterpiece to put all others to shame. Her pleasure a priceless portrait in a gallery for one, a sight he could keep all to himself.

“You’re stunning,” he said, shaping the words against her lips mid-kiss as he drew a quick breath, hips arching into the maddening heat of her body.

Her mouth moved against his, opening eagerly to the sweep of his tongue, and he felt her smile softly. “It’s hard not to feel beautiful if you look at me the way you just were…” she said quietly, catching his lower lip between her teeth.

He blinked, surprised. “How was I looking at you?”

“A bit like the way you look at a piece of art sometimes. Like it’s your whole world, like it has the mysteries of the universe hidden somewhere between the brushstrokes. You don’t know how many times I’ve been so horribly jealous of some paint on canvas.”

His thumb feathered over the soft happy creases at the corner of her eye, his lips just behind. The words he wanted to say stuck somewhere in his throat, tangled up in untold years of habit and silence. I’ve always watched you like that...just never when you could see.

He straightened, trailing his hands down her side, spanning the narrow cage of her ribs before ticking over each one, past the slim nip of her waist to slow at the spread of her hips, fingers curling into the scrap of fabric that still clung to her there. “Don’t think I’m done with you yet,” he warned softly, leaning in to press his lips to the hollow of her throat that held her still-thrumming pulse, tongue swirling to gather the salt there. “I’m still not sure I’m entirely convinced.”

Moving lower, he kissed a pathway down the shallow valley between her breasts, following the ridge of taut muscle to the dip of her navel, breath whispering across the concave space held within the wing of one hipbone. His hands stroked down the lengths of her thighs, hooking thumbs into her panties to slip them down and off, palms curling behind her knees to bend them and set her heels on the edge of the table, urging her legs to fall further apart and leave her bared - pretty and pink - to his greedy gaze. The scent of her arousal swirled around him, blood and pleasure and sweat clinging to her like the richest of perfumes.

He closed his eyes on a muffled groan and bent to trace the tip of his tongue over the heavy tendon that joined her thigh to hip, tasting more of the same on her skin.

“Tell me again who you belong to...” he demanded, heated words ghosting over the fragile petals just beneath his lips.

She let out a little sound as she squirmed on top of the table and her lashes fluttered shut, before opening again and lifting her head to gaze down at the sight of him between her legs.

"I..." she started, but words failed her, caught in her throat for long moments. Her tongue darted out to wet dry lips. "Theo," she pleaded, trying to push him down to where she wanted him.

He stared up the long line of her body, admiring the gentle dips and curves of her landscape. “Was that your answer?” He leaned in to lick a single slow path through her folds that ended with a brief flick over the swollen pearl buried within. “You're going to have to sell it better than that.” A devilish grin graced his lips, fingertips playing about the soft heat of her opening tauntingly.

He heard her bite down on a small whimper, watched her try to shift closer to his tongue, sink herself over his fingers, desperate for anything other than the brief, teasing touches he was offering her. Her fingers twisted through his hair as she stared down at him, her eyes dark with lust when they met his.

“Don’t you believe me?” she asked, her voice breathless. “You know I’m yours. My skin smells like you, my clothes. The taste of you is in my mouth…” She tilted her head back, baring the punctures on her throat, still crimson and bruised like scattered petals. The sight stirring something base and primal deep inside of him. “Bite me again, Theo. Mark me.” She lifted her hips. “Fuck me.”

The breath left him on a rough snarl, fingers flexing convulsively around the slim strength of her leg where he'd held her tightly, nearly undone by her brazen words. Turning his head blindly he sank his teeth into the silken expanse of her inner thigh, rasping his tongue over the punctures left behind and gathering up the honeyed flavor of her blood again before falling onto her damp center ravenously. He drew long lingering patterns over her with his mouth, groaning softly, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and lips.

His fingers returned to delve deep into the tight heat of her body, curling and flexing again and again in time with the flicker of his tongue. At the edge of the table his own hips tossed restlessly, half-delirious with his own need and the tortuous ache of his stifled arousal, mind supplying him with lurid images to illustrate her words.

She cried out, slicking even wetter. Her fingers scraped over his scalp one more time before falling to the table alongside her, nails raking against the scarred wood frantically. She rolled beneath him, head falling back and eyes pressed shut, her hips lifting in time with the delving of his fingers, the wicked patterns of his tongue until she came apart forcefully beneath his attentions, her body quivering. Muscles fluttering around the fingers buried within her.

Panting at long last, she blinked her eyes open to stare dazedly up at the ceiling, breasts rising and falling as she caught her breath, shaking in time with the riot of her heart.

But it still wasn’t enough. He could have her, please her countless times, break and shatter and put her back together again over and over, and it would never be enough.

He wanted to give as he took. Wanted to fill her as surely as she filled him, until even they didn’t know where the other began or ended. It was love but it wasn’t, because that was too shallow a word for the way she had worked herself into everything he was. Coloring and tinting the very foundation of him, making of herself an imprimatura.

Quietly inescapable. Utterly irreplaceable.

Any capacity for patience he might have still had was lost. He drew back from her trembling form just long enough to work open the closure of his pants and lift himself from the confines of his undergarments, a long low groan falling from his lips at the freedom. No more talking, no more asking - just wrapping hands firmly around her ankles and hooking them over his shoulders. Arching to bring himself to her entrance as he wrenched her to the edge of the table sharply by the hips, burying himself in the heat of her in one harsh motion.

He breathed through the desire to spill himself immediately in her welcoming depths, scrounging tattered remnants of control from somewhere, locking eyes with her as he trapped her wrists above her head and began thrusting desperately, each motion shuddering the table and setting it skittering slightly across the kitchen floor. The breath panted from him on a faint grunt with every forceful flex, stirring the tiny hairs around her face as he kept his stare fixed on hers, watching the way each shuddering impact rippled through her awareness.

Watching his reflection play in her eyes. Still just a man - but the only one she saw.

His own drifted shut as he leaned in to kiss her, meeting her every motion with his own eagerly. Drinking in the scent of her enveloping him, the heat of her breath feathering across his cheek as his name winged its way from her lips.

Slowing his pace a fraction he peeled a hand from the grip on her to cradle the back of her skull, holding her close as he pressed his mouth along the fragile bone of her jaw, trailing down to nose at the soft lobe of her ear. “Say my name again,” he pleaded, the harsh dominance bled from his voice, leaving it broken and as desperate as the fingers he slipped between them to seek out the apex of her pleasure.

He needed to know that, even if for just a single shining moment, even if just for as long as it took to exhale, she was as thoroughly consumed by him as he was her.

“Theo,” she breathed in answer to the soft request he murmured against her skin, arching against him at the first brush of his thumb between her legs. She buried her face against the curve between his neck and shoulder, biting down in subtle defiance as her arms struggled fruitlessly against his iron hold, and then her body clamped down as her release washed over them both, messy and scalding and slick. Muscles trembling around him, her muffled cries catching roughly in her throat.

She clung to him through the waves of pleasure that battered her, as if he were the only port in a storm, and the feeling was both humbling and devastating.

Somehow he stroked through the clenching of her body, the first harsh seizing of her muscles drawing his own release to a sharp crescendo that broke at last, spilling himself hotly on a low shuddering growl until he felt wrung, drained with the long-forestalled climax. His head hung heavy and spinning for long unbroken moments as he fought for breath.

Stirring at last he lifted it, rubbing his cheek and nose over the damp strands at her temple, pressing a kiss to the hairline there before straightening and smoothing hands down her trembling torso, still sheathed tightly within her. “Schatje,” he murmured, hitching a soft smile down at her as he met her hazy eyes. “You are...something else.”

He felt raw. Exposed. Like she'd peeled off a mask with every rake of her nails over his skin, one that he'd nearly forgotten he'd even put on. Left in place so long it had nearly become him.

It should hurt. It did hurt.

But only in the way that stretching a sleeping limb did, or the lancing of a wound. In the satisfied aching way of things that could only get better from here on out.

She moaned faintly in reply at first, a boneless liquid sound that did wonders for his ego, and he stroked over her hair again. "You're going to have to carry me out of here, " she half-laughed as she drew her ruined blouse back into place

He scoffed, but set himself to rights and scooped her up easily, tucking her shirt tighter about her. "My hondje is going to be spoiled, at this rate, if she can't even take herself on walks."

Her pout only made him want to tease her more. "That's hardly my fault."

He laughed, a sound full of shameless male pride, as he carried her to his room. Laid her out on his bed and slipped beneath the sheets to tuck her inside the frame of his arms and bury his nose in the unruly mass of her hair. Drawing what felt like the first full breath of his second life.

"I forgot the apples," she murmured mournfully into the hollow of his throat as she nuzzled closer. "You'll have to wait on the special pancakes."

"That's alright. I'll be taking my breakfast in bed tomorrow anyways." The taste of her blood and the salt-sweet tang of her pleasure still rode his tongue as he hummed, the sound full of dark promise. The devil at his shoulder dancing in triumph at having been proven right.

Third favorite indeed.

~~~~~~

Tagging: @otomelin, @assomoir, @tacogawa, @shikikira, @vita-et-sanguis, @jennacat84, @that-otome-potato, @rokutouxei

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp theo #ikevamp theodorus #smut #ikevamp smut #ns//fw #my writing

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thebigdeepcheatsy · 3 years

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God help me, I’m thinking of TMNT Next Mutation fanfiction ideas.

It taking place a year or two after the show.

Slash being a five-way clone of the turtle brothers and the Dragon Lord created by Dr. Quease.

Dr. Quease successfully overthrowing the Dragon Lord with Slash.

Slash ending up siding with the heroes, and getting with Venus later on.

Venus being depicted as more accurate to Chinese martial arts and mysticism instead of just mushing Chinese and Japanese as if they were the same thing.

Dr. Quease recruiting Bebop and Rocksteady from The Unknowables and Silver’s Gang respectively to act as his personal bodyguards.

Baxter Stockman depicted as a more anti-villainous type who works for the Shredder because he is the only one, outside of his brother (More on that later), who treats him with any respect and can provide the means of helping his inventions come to fruition. And maybe they were also friends or colleagues at one point.

April O’Neil introduced as a biracial 18-year old girl whose mother is a redhead news reporter and father is none other than the brother of Baxter Stockman.

Leatherhead depicted as a Cajun-accented mutant alligator who used to be part of a criminal circus family (Though was actually initially created by the Utrom before they thought they lost him), but is reduced to a mercenary after the circus crew were arrested after the TMNT stop them.

Vam Mi making a comeback

Tokka and Rahzar depicted as ancient Chinese demons created from the ghosts of animals that were poached, they are also joined by an eagle demon named Rahmjat. They have ancient Chinese weapons and the elemental powers of Ice (Tokka), Fire (Rahzar), and Sand (Rahmjat)

A strange pink talking octopus that Bonesteel kidnaps to sell to the Black Market, only to reveal to be none other than an Utrom... specifically Krang with amnesia.

Krang recovering his memory and Leatherhead recognizes him as an Utrom, which Krang takes full advantage of to regain his power with the promise of reuniting with the Utroms.

Dragon Lord revealing to be a banished criminal among his fellow dragons, who claimed himself as the “Dragon Lord” and manipulated several other dragons into joining him

MAYBE: Dr. Quease using Bonesteel as an experiment to create dinosaur mutants, leading him to become a mutant velociraptor (Doubling as shout-outs to Jurassic Park and Beast Wars Dinobot)

Dr. Quease creating a whole squad of mutant dinos including a rapping T. Rex, a pteranodon, a dilophosaurus.

Dr. Quease flipping sides more than a chef cooking a hundred pancakes until he’s finally stuck with Krang.

Splinter fighting The Rat King, who turns out to be the ghost of Hamato Yoshi trying to test Splinter and help him let go

Dragon Lord making a comeback as a major, if not final, villain at full power and maybe even teamed up with Krang.

The TMNT and The Foot joining forces to stop the Dragon Lord and Krang.

#TMNT #Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles The Next Mutation #The Next Mutation #Ideas #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Might update later

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fayelafaye · 3 years

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My friend tells me I have a velociraptor jaw and if a goy (like me) makes latkes they're just potato-onion pancakes and he's right

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saphirafoxgirlspost1 · 4 years

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(Open Rp) Romance, Drama, Winter And Toontown Au In "Once Upon a Time In Toontown"

On the Winter Day in Toontown, Everyone was Heard Rumors That There's going to be a New Person who is going to Live in this lovely toontown But..She's Neither a Human Nor a Toon, But they Say She was a Mysterious person who always wears a white cloak and also They say She used to be a Retired Fighter and She was Known as "Gorgira (aka Godzilla)" She Kills every Opponent with a Big one fight. Then That Night, The Mysterious Woman in white Cloak just arrives and head to the Lovely Home right next to the park where the lake is. Every toon Sees This Mysterious Woman wearing a white cloak entering her new Home. So Next Morning, At the Diner She came in and The Toons Saw a None Other than a Kitsune Who's name is Saphira Lorraina Fox. She's Neither a Human Or a Toon , So The Rumors were true that She's Is Neither a Human nor a Toon. So the Owner Of the Diner decided to Give a Good Brand newcomers a good Breakfast, When saphira sits down on the booth near the window Looking and watching the toons doing their wacky buisness. Her Fox ears moves back and forth, hearing a conservations about something. But then She sees the toons Looking at her Very Curiously And ask herself "Ummm why are they looking at me For?" As those toon knows that She's the Loveliest Kitsune that has ever live and She was knew it as well. And then the waiteress got her a Nice drink and the best breakfast in toontown, She Thanks her and began to eat her breakfast as she Loves the good taste of Pancakes, sausage and eggs itself..her nine Fluffy tails is wagging like a cute Happy fox. She asked for a check but then the owner said that it was on the house for her. She was Pretty Suprised about it, So She thanks him and she gets up and Bows with respect and said "Thank you for a Lovely Meal good sir" "Your welcome, You come back ya hear." Said the Owner of the Diner. So Saphira was Exploring this weird and Odd Villiage So called a "Toontown", She sees the Garden near the park. She always loves the garden itself while The Roses is blooming and the The sun is still a lil bit shining. But then She sees The Fighting event, about 3 days at nightfall. She Made a good Sharpteeth grinned and knowing that She can Fight even more. But then She decided to head to the bar where it has Shows and entertainment, Not to mention to have the best Drinks in whole toontown. As she went in and head to the well Ladies only heartshaped Booth, She sees the show but she didn't see alot of Guys and Mostly is the mafia gangs who has been eyeing on saphira and wanting her that bad. But When the Show starts, Saphira saw Daffy and Donald Duck Doing the Dueling Pianos. She Loves those two Ducks dueling eachother like their fighting For Peoples love and attention. But After the shows was over, she head out as the Night falls came in, Saphira was walking home and walked passed the Cemetary and when she looked at the cemetary, She Spotted The fallen angel very Curiously but her Fox ears wiggles but suddenly she saw the reaper as she gasp and fleeing quick as hell and then She heads out to her home and close the door. She sighs but then she head to the babies room..where well..her 4 dead unborns ashes remains in the 4 jars is now placed in the crib...Now the People in Toontown Doesn't Know "Why" She was Moving here in the First Place? Heres her Biggest story.. about Long time Ago, Saphira was a Small Little girl in Preschool. Feeling all Scared and Nervous about Human Children… Sadly.. no one ever wanted Saphira to be Friends because She’s Different.. But She holds Bendy plushie because he’s the only friend she has.. until She met ron and kim. She was So Happy and became Best Friends,,,,, But… years and years past… High school times.. Ron and Saphira had been together as a couple Since middle school.. Something was Strange about ron, He Seems to change and Acted Strange… he began to advoided her in freshmen.. Sophmore She wanted to have a family.. but had two Miscarriages… then.. the false accusation of Cheating was Worse.. things gone from words to Violents.. She was extremely hurt.. until Kim told saphira that she is pregnant with josh.. Ron was thrilled but Saphira sees ron and kim gotten close .. Something was Going on badly but whats even Worse is that Those girls that Saphira Knew told saph that They're pregnant with ron too and She was Pretty Furious and suspecting.. He made her almost missed her Homecoming dance as she caught ron kissing her bestfriend… Her Heart was Shattered into pieces. Ron was Shocked as he Knew He’s been caught, as Saphira told him that he can Sleep in the basement until the children of those Other girls was born. As it Did, The Children that kim and other girls gave birth to is rons, She was So angry and So Angry She threw him out of her House and her life… After that, Her tears was Streaming on her cheeks. So She discovered that the Toontown wants someone new to live there and so she did and Now She was pretty Deeply Wounded So much..She then went up to the Roof and pulls out a Silver Violin that was made by the angels blood that has been given to her grandfather, her father and now it's her's to play..Her Pet Velociraptor name Oreo was guarding her Unborns ashes at all times even her pet t rex guarding her home too secretly to keep the trespassers here and then She gets up on the roof and then She looked at the Full moon that was Shining on her and her violin. Then She Began to Play her favorite song called "The Jurassic park theme, and Also Just the way you are" Her music is So beautiful that will Attracts angels (maybe literally or so). During that The Fallen angels hears the Most Beautiful Sound as after the shifts is over, he began to Follow the beautiful sound and then Saphira finished her beautiful song She hears the voice and said....

#Open rp #Toontown au #romance

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hpshelton · 4 years

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The Supermarket

I went to the supermarket today so you don't have to. In liu of live-tweeting societal breakdown, here are some hopefully amusing vingettes.

Cleaning wipes were available upon entering the store. They have not yet been stolen unlike the whole hand sanitizer dispenser stand at the Safeway down the street. I think they were actually moist dryer sheets, but the hospitality was still appreciated.

All the bottled water was gone. No, bottled water is not needed.

Everyone keeps asking me if I have enough toilet paper. I respond "How much is enough toilet paper?" Everyone laughs. No one answers. I may never ever know.

The groceries I buy regularly have a suspicious overlap with the list of recommended emergency non-perishables. It's unclear if my diet is just constantly in a state of emergency.

There is only one worthwhile brownie mix, Ghirardelli triple chocolate:

Chicken? Running low. Breaded pre-cut frozen chicken in cute dinosaur shapes? Running right into my tummy.

What does it say about us when the only soups left on the shelf are Campbell's chicken noodle and all the Campbell's Chunky™? What does it say about me that those are the only soups I buy?

There are debates in the world that will likely never end. Coke vs Pepsi. Waffles vs pancakes. T-Rex vs Velociraptor. Prego vs Ragu is now definitively over. Even the mushroom-flavored Prego was gone.

Oreos are not a panic buy. Not even the double-stuffed. I'm unclear why not.

I was surprised the store-brand thin crust pizzas I like were sold out until I remembered I was at a different brand store.

There's nothing like a disaster to make us re-evaluate our priorities and judge what's really important. Avocados.

People will risk leaving the safety of their homes to scavange through a desert of groceries for milk and eggs in order to avoid just-add-water Bisquick pancakes.

"Did you find everything you were looking for today?"

My bank notified me of a suspicious transaction. I think it's because I spent money on groceries.

#coronavirus #pandemic #groceries #society #shopping

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one-time-i-dreamt · 5 years

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There were these invisible doorway monsters who could trap a person in a nightmare pocket dimension and then would spit them out when they died. I had walked into one, luckily I was pulled out and we called an exterminator to get rid of it, then there was this lady haunting me who thought I killed her in a car accident even though I didn’t know how to drive and I kept telling her that it wasn't me for a long while. I went to talk to my parents and they were cuddling on the couch and I don’t remember what was said between us, but I do remember that my mom (stepmom?) was a velociraptor lady, and the last thing I know happened was that me and Velocimom made pancakes and then I woke up.

#dream #submission #death tw #violence tw #horror #dinosaur #monster

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em-dashes · 4 years

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02.01.20

Aphelion Intro | Character Intro | Playlist

It is once again oh-crap-I-haven’t-poster-in-a-long-time-so-I-guess-it’s-time-for-an-update time!!

I didn’t have much time for writing in January, but I did have a lot of time to think about the story progression, and I found yet MORE convoluted plot points I have to consider cutting out or changing. In hindsight, I didn’t realize how messy APHELION was last year, and it’s all so obvious now. Yikes.

Here’s some convoluted plot stuff that APHELION used to have that I have since snapped from the story:

a ghost subplot where Rian was friends with three ghosts

zombies (djhfbsdjfhsdbfjak)

Cay as a sniper (how did I not realize Cay hates guns and would never use a sniper rifle what the heck)

Cay working for the government as a secret agent (once more, what the HECK)

a heck-ton of torture for some reason (past drafts were so unnecessarily grimdark and I can’t believe it took me this long to see it)

Shelby as a world renowned thief and hacker known as The Bandit of Brery

Shelby being friends with another hacker named The Velociraptor (who has since been moved to a different WIP)

One of Rian’s powers being teleportation (this literally made no sense)

Well, anyway, happy February! And now, it’s excerpt time >:)

Chapter 3: Shelby

She pulled the backpack onto her lap. The first and largest pocket she rummaged through held several long sleeve shirts, trousers, some underwear, and three pairs of cozy-looking winter socks. They were all children’s clothes--they wouldn’t even fit Idan, who was already small for a fifteen-year-old. Who in their right mind would live out in the middle of nowhere with a child? In the next pocket, she pulled out a small spiral-bound notebook, its papers warped from having been soaked in the past. The first page had only two words, written in large scrawling black letters and traced over thrice:

ALABAST SQUARE

Bee had no idea where that was, nor did she really care. She thumbed through the rest of the book. The next page said:

Head hurt for three days. Found some painkiller. Still works.

A week passed I think. I tried to stay alert but kept falling asleep. No one here but animals, mostly wolves. If I’m careful they don’t attack.

Found something cool--pancake mix! I can’t read the how-to-make but I think I can figure it out.

A journal, Bee realized. And she’d been wrong. Someone hadn’t been living in the abandoned town with a child--it sounded like the kid had been alone.

Chapter 4: Rian

Two nurses dressed in white stood at the door, and behind them, a face Rian didn't want to see.

Dr. Scott.

Dr. Scott wasn’t his mother, though Rian used her last name, but she pretended to be when they traveled. They had the same auburn hair, the same pale complexion, and some people even swore up and down they had the same nose. He looks just like you. The false relationship worked, the same way the brown contact lens he’d had to wear over his green eye worked. People didn’t give them suspicious looks. People asked less questions. Rian never truly thought of her as his mother, but he had felt warmly enough toward her.

Now, as Dr. Scott rushed toward him, face full of concern with the nurses trailing behind her, all he felt was a sick burning in his chest.

Chapter 5: Cay

He stood, paused for a moment to let the dizziness pass, and headed to the main room. He found three packets of powdered soup, dumped one in a bowl, poured hot water into it, and was just stirring the lumps of powder in when he heard Lunary screech from the barn. He wiped the water droplets from the window and peered out. It was still dark outside, the sky a deep grey as dawn took its sweet time to creep in, but he could make out wild flapping wings through the barn’s windows.

He quickly drank his soup--wincing at the heat and ignoring the still-dry lumps--and threw on his sweater and coat. He stuffed his shoes in his boots, laced them up haphazardly, and went outside to the barn. Lunary didn’t seem to see him as he entered the barn, still flapping her wings and screeching, flying at the walls in attempt to get out.

“Hey, girl.” Cay took a tentative step forward. “Hey, it’s me.”

He raised his arms slowly, as if boxing Lunary in, though of course he was much too small to do that. Lunary withdrew, startled, and then seemed to recognize him. Her wings still trembled, but at least she had stopped fluttering wildly at the walls. She let out a pitious sound and nuzzled Cay with her beak, desperate for comfort.

“It’s okay,” said Cay softly, gently stroking Lunary’s feathery head, her furry crest, her beak. “I’m afraid of storms too. Thunder and lightning? Now that’s scary.” He knew the aepid couldn’t understand his words, but he swore he could see sympathy in her big yellow eye. He closed his eyes and put his forehead against hers, feeling the rise and fall as her breathing calmed. “I know. But we’ll be okay, right?”

What happened in Alabast Square? Why does Rian hate his pseudo-mother so much? Why is Cay afraid of storms? Tune in to find out more maybe!

Et c’est tout pour le moment mes amis!

-Emily

Taglist: @ditzysworld @sunlight-and-starskies @v-snippets @kentwrites @writing-instead-of-fighting :^)

#em dashes #writing update #aphelion #excerpts #writeblr #uhhhh some of this is really poorly written but shhhhshshshs i haven't gotten to editing yet #edited cos the tags weren't working

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optimusxfloatingxinxspace · 4 years

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Regarding the reblog about Optimus' animal vocabulary, he gets all the names from LuidChart or something. Doggo, Cate, Danger Noodle, Sea Pancake, velociraptor deer, etc

sea pancake and velociraptor deer are my favorites lmfao

#dean talks #ask #moldypissrabbit

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ladyofpurple · 4 years

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Feather, nymph, and roses

😭🥰 i spent way too long trying to answer these

feather; which mythical creature would you transform into if you could?

hmm. probably a mermaid. very basic bitch white girl answer, but it'd be nice to be able to submerge yourself for hours without drowning, yknow? being underwater is so calming, and i used to love swimming, even though the most i can do now is maybe keep myself from drowning, and i can't hold my breath for shit anymore.

either that, or some fae/nymph/wild nature spirit of some kind. the power! the mystique! sometimes you just gotta melt into a 1,500 year old bog and strike duplicitous bargains with foolish mortals and that's valid.

nymph; name 3 films that have changed your life and have shaped you into the person you are today.

this is a horrible question. how dare you assume i remember literally anything at all. anyway, to the best of my immediate recollection:

nightmare before christmas — i literally don't remember the first time i watched it. understandable, i guess, since it came out the year before i was born, but for years, i had the image of jack skellington on top of the spiral hill in the pumpkin patch in front of the moon seared into my brain. i had no idea where it came from, i had no idea why, but it bothered me from the time i was old enough to be consciously aware of it until i was literally a teenager. i thought i'd made it up or something, because i could swear i'd asked my mom about it before and she had no idea what i was talking about. and then one day i mentioned it again and she was just like "oh, you mean nightmare before christmas?" i got the movie as a present after that, and since then i've lost count how many times i've watched it. probably not as many times as i've watched beetlejuice, but close. i'm pretty sure that image of jack on the spiral hill and all the repressed memories of the character design and music influenced my fondness for dark, gothic aesthetics even before i knew what they were. i've also always loved animation, and stop-motion animation in particular. pretty sure "tim burton" (henry selick, you absolute icon) had something to do with it.

jurassic park — 1 and 2 specifically. i liked the third one too, but i didn't see that until i was 15 or something. don't talk to me about jurassic world. but i saw the first two when i was waaaaay too fucking young (thanks brenda) and they somehow didn't scar me for life. on the contrary, they became my favorite movies for most of my childhood. i've never had a problem with gory deaths in movies, i wonder if that's why. jurassic park also sparked my years-long obsession with dinosaurs, my (often subtle nowadays) interest in history and science, and for a long time one of my dream jobs was to be a paleontologist. movie velociraptors (deinonychus, fucking FIGHT ME) have also always been in my top 5 list of dinosaurs. i will neither confirm nor deny severe disappointment when the confirmation that dinosaurs had feathers was announced.

grease — the #aesthetic. the songs. the high school drama. 70s era john travolta in a leather jacket. when i started smoking, i literally remembered rizzo's "oh if it's your first time you're not supposed to inhale" line from the sleepover scene and that alone saved me from nicotine addiction for 6 months. i know every song, continue to quote it on a daily basis, and i can 100% attribute my love of vintage style dresses and rockabilly to that movie being one of my first and most frequent exposures to 50s fashion. iconic.

roses; dream destination?

honestly, probably the states. the pacific northwest in particular, but the west coast in general. there are lots of places i want to see, or see again, but i just... miss it. so much. i can't describe it as homesickness, exactly. i've lived in norway all of my adult life and the majority of my childhood, and it's not like i keep in close contact with my family or childhood friends anymore, aside from the occasional interactions on social media or passing updates from my mom in conversation.

but there's a part of me that just feels... lost. i miss seattle. i miss long, winding drives down the oregon coast. i miss stupid billboards and shitty roadside diners and obnoxiously large cars on five lane highways. i miss marionberry pies and redwood trees. i miss driftwood on the beach, i miss graham crackers and lucky charms, i miss malls so big you can literally get lost if you're not careful. i miss shitty rubbery lunchables, and gimmicky "mexican" restaurants, and late night commercials for psychic hotlines, i miss pike place market. i miss the space needle. i miss the science center. i miss the freemont troll and too many pancakes at the salmon bay café with my grandma. i miss roller derby and imax theaters and powell's books. i miss greenlake. i miss bellevue. i miss camping in my great-grandma's backyard for 4th of july, or going to my aunt's house for the annual family reunion barbecue.

i'm probably idealizing it in my head. i can't imagine me as an adult making the conscious decision to move back there for good, not the way it seems to be escalating very obviously and very rapidly into a captialist dystopia with a dash of facism and police brutality thrown in just for flavor. i haven't even been in the states for any notable amount of time since 2012. but i've bullied my friends into a hypothetical road trip from san francisco to seattle someday, just to see it again. show them where i grew up. maybe it'll help them understand me better as a person, to finally see and feel all the things i can't describe, but cling to anyway. it's probably a pipe dream, but it helps to plan it when i'm feeling sad.

#Lady answers stuff #messofthejess #sorry that got a bit depressing at the end i was feeling nostalgic

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mosscaps · 5 years

Photo

intenselook.jpg

@raphhaels tagged me to make myself in this picrew so i gave myself little gomens wings in honor of that. damn the options for not letting me put bags under my eyes tho this is blatant #me erasure

I’m tagging: @favfruit @patrickcorbins @oldworldasshole @couldbeglorious @pancake-the-spinda @chickens-are-velociraptors and eternally @myfriendsarevictorious.

also if you want to do this please do and tag me in it. picrews are cute and good always

#if u catch me smiling that is on ME . I have FAiled.#mayhaps it's time to update with a selfie since the last selfie up is prolly from when i was sixteen and that can Die Right Now #picrew #about me #sp

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chibalein · 5 years

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Harmony Magazine Vol.6 - Recommendations for Wakana ~ Translation

So, in January, fanclub members could submit recommendations for restaurants and other interesting places located in the prefectures that Wakana will visit during her upcoming spring tour. These are the selected entries. Every entry (except for Wakana’s own recommendations) includes the member number, the nickname of the user that submitted the recommendation and a comment of him/her about the place, but I will only translate the comment. I also put links of every location in the titles. My personal notes will be in [...].

Anyway, some of these entries seem like very cool insider tips. Japan offers so many regional or local specialities that outsiders, let alone foreigners, might never know about. So if you happen to be at those places, no matter if it’s for Wakana’s concert or not, go ahead and try them, because you will never get the chance otherwise.

Celebrating the domestic spring tour!! Recommendations for Wakana!! This shop, that shop!

Wakana will hold her spring live tour in 7 major cities starting from April. So we hurriedly asked fanclub members via a questionnaire to tell us their recommendations! Will there be places that Wakana finds interesting as expected!?

Thanks to everyone who submitted their suggestions!

1. April 4th: Hanno City Civic Hall (Saitama)

Ôsato Main Shop “Hanno’s famous sweet Shirimochi”

Since I spent my elementary and middle school years in Hanno City, I have so many things I would like to tell you about it, but I really want you to try this treat. It’s called “Hanno’s famous sweet Shirimochi”! This treat is moderately sweet with puffy and soft red bean paste filling wrapped in mochi. But it’s sold in only three places in Hanno and with the best-by date being so short, only people of Hanno know about this - so it’s a treat only well-known to the few. They are often sold out by afternoon, but since Hanno City Civic Hall is only five minutes away by car, please try it!

Wakana’s comment:

It looks like a very soft mochi. It’s so simple and honest, wonderful! It’s also great that this shop is only a 5-minute car ride away! After buying merchandise, you can buy shirimochi, eat them, and bring them to the venue, in this order *laughs*. Great! I am sure they are also delicious after putting them into a toaster!

2. April 6th: NHK Osaka Hall (Osaka)

Botechaya “Okonomiyaki set meal” [it’s a chain, I put a link to the Dotonbori store]

This combination is distinctive for people from Kansai who eat okonomiyaki as a side dish of rice *laughs*. The dough is firm, but once you take a bite you get the proper softness. By eating the strongish sauce and rice alternately, if you gives just the right flavor - on this photo it may look small, but it has a good amount of volume.

Wakana’s comment:

After all, I love dishes made of flour! There are no “Okonomiyaki set meals” in other prefectures. Very Osaka-like! But, this is “normal” to Osaka people, right!? Is it like common practice? A side dish to rice… Yes, the flavor is strong, so it surely is delicious with white rice! I think it’s very compatible! *laughs*

3. May 4th: Fukuoka Convention Center (Fukuoka)

Henn-na Hotel Fukuoka Hakata

This is a hotel in Wakana’s home prefecture Fukuoka! Opened recently in January 2019, it’s not strange at all [the “hen” in the hotel name means “strange” or “weird” in Japanese]. It’s a fantastic hotel. The receptionists are velociraptors! I will say the most important thing once more - velociraptors do the reception! It’s such a dream-like hotel. How about staying in this hotel and resting after the concert where Wakana’s beloved raptors are?

Wakana’s comment:

Velociraptors are so cool! I got excited the moment I saw this. I wonder whether they can talk? *laughs* Of course I knew about the very first hotel in Huis Ten Bosch in Nagasaki [a big theme park in Sasebo City modeling Holland in the Middle Ages]. I want dinosaurs to be in the rooms, too! The hotel prices also seem reasonable! Since it opened recently and is close to the venue, I want everyone to meet and fall in love with velociraptors <3

4. Wakana’s recommendation!

West Udon Izakaya

“West” is a famous udon chain in Fukuoka, but they have various things like “West Yakiniku”. One of these stores is the “West Udon Izakaya”, the menu prices are around 200 Yen, 300 Yen, 400 Yen! Motsunabe for one person costs 300 Yen! But it’s really delicious! My recommendations are “Yamaimo Teppan” [japanese yam in a hot iron plate] and “Gobôten Udon” [fried burdock udon]. There are also stores that operate 24 hours. They have hot pot, snacks and alcohol and at the end udon… Getting drunk and sleeping with a good mood, it’s easy-going after all. It’s such a restaurant.

5. April 14th: Sapporo City Education and Culture Hall (Hokkaido)

Seicomart

This convenience store started in Hokkaido. It’s trademark is the orange signboard. Seicomart’s “Hot Chef” [it’s like a fast food corner inside the stores, you can get handmade dishes there] is pretty delicious. During summer, Hokkaido’s melon soft ice is super yummy.

Wakana’s comment:

When I went to Hokkaido, Seicomart was always taking care of me! Whenever I went there, I felt like it’s always full of rice or side dishes. But I didn’t know about “Hot Chef”! Next time I’ll try to go there just for the “Hot Chef”! As for the soft ice, I think there weren’t any other ice varieties after all. The melon soft ice looks so delicious~! The Sapporo live will be in April, so it’s just about the right time to challenge ice cream, right? I will look for it!

6. Wakana’s recommendation!

Rokkatei “Ôhirahara”

This yellow, fluffy cake is something I got from a friend from Hokkaido! The backside of the wrapping says “Please warm it up in the microwave for 10 seconds”, and after warming it up, it tastes so much more delicious! My friend said “Eh! I didn’t know that! You have to warm it up?” *laughs*. When she/he tried it, she/he got so excited and said “Wow, delicious!”. I want everyone to know that Hokkaido doesn’t only have “shiroi koibito” [a super damn delicious cookie Hokkaido is famous for]. Please bring this back as a souvenir!

7. April 20th: Sendai Gigs (Miyagi)

Ankoya

Normally, dorayaki [traditional pancake-like confection filled with red bean paste] are round, but this bakery makes them square. Inside it’s densely packed with red bean paste, it’s a filling food. You can enjoy different and seasonal flavors. Many people come to the bakery in the morning, so you should come early. Please try it!

Wakana’s comment:

So cute~! So there are also season-limited flavors. The idea that dorayaki are delicious even if they are not round is great. When buying it, I feel like they will be beautifully put inside the box. Seems like there is also “butter dorayaki”~, it looks so delicious! Butter wrapped in red bean paste, it feels like it’s connected with “Nagoya”. Ah, but it’s Sendai! *laughs* If they are sold out before noon, then they must be popular. Anyway, I want to try that butter dorayaki!

8. May 12th: NTK Hall Nagoya (Aichi)

[Just a comment from my side: in the magazine it actually says “glaboal”, however the store website states it as “global”, the Japanese address says “global” and Google Maps also says “global”, so I suppose that’s correct. I am pretty sure that neither the member who submitted the info nor the magazine editor have checked the correct spelling and/or don’t have enough English skills to notice this mistake. Anyway, in my translation I will stick to “global”].

garage (GLOBAL GATE store)

The “GLOBAL GATE” store (in the building in front of Zepp Nagoya) is a florist/gardening store located in the 3rd and 4th floor. I recommend this to Wakana since she loves plants! Please go there!

Waah, I just want to live there! *laughs* This seems like a store where the staff will talk to each customer about plants. Awesome! It must be like that! Just like people, plants also have unique personalities. That’s why it’s the same with having a pet~ I think it’s very good when employees can talk to the customers one-to-one! And there are also some crafting seminars~ Some day I want to learn how to repot plants!

9. April 26th: Nakano Sun Plaza (Tokyo)

Bonjour Bon

I would like to recommend this bakery located in Tokyo’s Nakano ward called “Bonjour Bon”. In this bakery you can find many, a bit different types of bread, and I also recommend the fried calzone margarita pizza bread. The balance between tomato and cheese is exquisite, so please try it, Wakana-san.

Wakana’s comment:

This bakery looks like a “Japanese bakery”, right? That’s great~. Sometimes I really crave bread, so I go out in the morning to buy it. I prefer rather salty over sweet bread. A so-called side dish bread. Therefore the calzone margarita sounds delicious! I also love “katsu sandwich” [katsu refers to fried pork chop] and croquettes. To be honest, I have never walked around the vicinity of Nakano Sun Plaza before…. This time I will try to go there!

#kalafina #wakana #harmony magazine #volume 6 #translation #recommendation #I really want this calzone now

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today-only-happens-once · 6 years

Text

Fault Line

Title: Fault Line

Word count: 6477

Summary: When Patton had asked if being safe was enough, Virgil had agreed. But the truth and its consequences weigh heavy on everyone. Sequel to Fight or Flight. Platonic or pre-romantic Prinxiety, Platonic LAMP/CALM.

Warnings: angst and suffering abounds, so do feelings of guilt, brief cursing, nightmares, monsters, (repeated) description and discussion of major injury/trauma and intense pain, borderline overworking, panicking and panic attacks, Roman is insecure and has self-deprecating thoughts, nausea mention, Virgil is tense, Logan gives the expository speeches (and I love him for it), food mention, let me know if I forgot anything

A/N: The fic that never seemed ready to end. Yikes. This got way darker (and longer) than I thought it would? Everyone is suffering. Headcanons abound, Logan is long-winded, POV is played with, longest SS fic yet and I didn’t even cover absolutely everything? I think I like it but at this point idek, this might just be a hot mess. Edited by yours truly, so all mistakes are mine. *covers my eyes before posting, then hides*

Confused? Read Fight or Flight here!

Tags: @creativenostalgiastuff (Extra props for her help in brainstorming/problem solving with me for this fic), @helloisthisusernametaken, @ren-allen, @lizaelsparrow @princelogical, @random-pianist, @ravenclawicecream, @erlenmeyertrash, @milomeepit, @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes, @rileyfirstname, @pinkeasteregg, @sassy-in-glasses, @vigilantvirgil, @generalfandomfabulousness, @lacrimosathedark, @lesbian-velociraptor (since you said you were interested!) @thepoolofthedead (only tagging you because its a continuation of that one fic you inspired.) Let me know if anyone ever wants to be tagged!

…

Virgil jolts awake with the taste of a shout dying on his tongue.

The memory of Roman’s pained scream still reverberates violently in his head against the abrupt silence of his room. His chest heaves with shuddering gasps. His purple t-shirt is soaked through with sweat, his bangs sticking to his forehead. He presses trembling hands against his eyes.

He breathes in for four seconds.

His barely-contained gasps.

He tries again. He breathes in for four seconds.

His shredded red sash.

He breathes in for—

The bloodstains on his white suit.

He breathes—

Roman crying out in pain.

Virgil kicks the blanket off of his legs and tumbles ungracefully out of the bed. He can hear his heartbeat thudding in his ears but it is still not enough to drown out the memories. The nightmares. A part of Virgil is begging him to run but he doesn’t know where because it’s inside of him, because you can’t out-run the memories inside your head.

Nevertheless, the urge to go somewhere anywhere anywhere but here is strong and before he’s even completely aware of what he’s doing, Virgil sinks out of his room.

When he rises back up, he’s got his eyes squeezed shut against the images flashing through his mind.

“Virgil?”

The Anxious Side’s breaths are still coming too quickly as he opens his eyes. French doors are left open so that a breeze blows through the white curtains and he realizes suddenly that he’s left his hoodie in his own room. He is open and exposed and this was a bad idea. Bad idea, bad idea, bad—

“Whoa. Virge.” The bed squeaks, followed by hurried footsteps against the hardwood.

Virgil feels hands on his shoulders and finally, slowly, looks up. Bare feet, red pajama pants, a thin white t-shirt. Loose strands of hair fall into wide, concerned eyes. Roman.

Safe. He’s safe. He’s okay.

Virgil sags a little in relief. He feels the grip tighten on his shoulders.

“Is something wrong?”

Virgil looks for a second into the Prince’s dark eyes, then down at the soft rise and fall of his (healed, he was healed) chest. The white t-shirt hugs his ribcage in a way that seems to Virgil such a stark contrast to the image of the bleeding slashes through his skin that was seared behind his eyes.

“N-no,” Virgil says, finding his voice just as Roman opens his mouth to speak again. “I’m sorry. I-I just…” He’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay. Virgil runs a hand over his eyes. “Just had a bad dream. I don’t… know why I came here. Sorry.”

Roman had been sleeping. God knows he needed the rest after the quest, after fighting the monster and nearly… Virgil shouldn’t have bothered him, really. It had just been a dream. A memory at the most. A memory that has since passed. Didn’t matter now. Arbitrary, as Logan might call it.

“Virgil, wait—“

He sinks out before Roman can finish.

…

When Roman walks into the kitchen the following morning, Patton is surprisingly the only one there.

“Good morning, Padrè,” Roman says, not quite able to muster the usual sing-song flair he had most mornings. Virgil’s pale face and wide eyes the previous night were still ingrained on his mind.

“Morning, kiddo,” Patton greets with a warm smile. “How’d you sleep?” He hands a cup of coffee—already including Roman’s preferred ratio of cream and sugar—to the Prince.

Roman accepts it with a distracted but appreciative smile. “Virgil came to my room last night,” he says in lieu of answering Patton’s routine question. He takes a sip of coffee.

A crease appears between Patton’s eyebrows. “Was he okay?”

“I…” Roman pauses, looking down into his coffee mug. The knot in his stomach tightens a little. Virgil had seemed pretty torn up. Afraid. And though Roman was Creativity, it didn’t take much imagination to guess what exactly had been wrong. “He said he’d had a bad dream.”

“And you think it was about… what happened?”

What happened. Through the past couple of days since Roman and Virgil had returned, that was exactly how they’d all been talking about it. Or not talking about it, as the case may be. Roman remembers every moment of it all in startling high-definition, and from the Anxious Side’s constantly terrified gaze, he knew Virgil could as well. But talking about it…

What had happened was his fault. Roman knows this. It’s his fault that Virgil’s having nightmares that he won’t talk about. His fault that Patton hovers with questions pressing against his tongue. His fault that Logan had been hiding in his room ever since. His own fault that when he lies awake at night he can feel a ghostly whisper of the pain shred through his chest…

“Yeah, Pat,” Roman says, his voice unusually subdued. “I do.”

Patton is quiet for a moment, then sets his own mug on the counter with a quiet click. “How are you holding up?”

“Me? Totally Gucci.”

The Moral Side has a gentle, knowing look behind his glasses. “How are you really?”

The Prince swallows and averts his gaze. “I’m fine, Patton.”

“Well, I don’t believe that for a second.”

His jaw jumps. What does Patton expect him to say? Roman had been in danger before on quests, but not like that. He’d never… lost control of the mindscape, if that’s even what had happened. He’d never… almost…

And with Virgil there. He’d put Virgil in danger. He’d risked his life and Virgil’s and for what?

Listen to me. I don’t know about this. Virgil had been practically begging him to turn back. How had he responded? This is what I do, Virgil.

Though the coffee is saturated with cream and sugar, the Creative Side has a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Roman?”

The Prince shakes his head and forces a smile. “I’m just a bit tired. It’s nothing to worry about.” He clears his throat. Patton takes in a breath to reply, but Roman cuts him off. “Where’s our Microsoft Nerd?”

Patton gives him a quiet look at the less-than-subtle change in topic, but lets it slide. “I think Logan’s in his room again.” He looks at the stack of pancakes on the table. Roman hadn’t even noticed them when he’d walked in. “He should probably eat something.”

…

Virgil takes in a deep breath before rapping his knuckles lightly against Logan’s door. He shoves his hands into his pockets as he waits.

“Uh, come in,” Logan’s voice calls, distant and distracted. Virgil quietly opens the door and steps into the room, closing it behind him.

Logan’s bedroom is covered in a broad sea of open books. They lay open across his bed, his desk, the floor; nearly any flat surface of his room has either an open book or a stack of closed ones. Sticky-Notes and dog-eared pages mark the pages along with penciled notes scribbled in the margins of about half of them. Logan is sitting in a chair, his feet propped up on the desk with a pencil tucked behind his ear and another in his hand. A thick, leather-bound volume is open in his lap.

“Logan?”

The Logical Side glances up. His hair is a little mussed, and his blue tie is pulled slightly loose from his neck.

“Virgil,” he says with a note of surprise. He pulls his legs off the desk, his chair swiveling to face the Anxious Side more fully. “What can I do for you?”

Virgil scratches the back of his neck. “What, um, what are you working on?”

Logan glances around his room. “I am searching for information that may explain some of the… unusual events that have unfolded these past few days.”

Oh, Virgil thinks. He hesitates, unsure if knowing more would help him or just make everything worse. What was it that Logan had told Thomas once? If you’re afraid of being hurt, then seek knowledge. And Logan’s explanations usually did have a quite calming effect on Virgil. At least… most of the time.

“What have you found?” Virgil asks.

“Well,” Logan begins, nodding for Virgil to take a seat on the small space on his bed that wasn’t covered by books, “As we know, occupying space in any of our respective parts of Thomas’s mindscape can have unintended consequences on our processes, particularly if that space is not one in which we are accustomed to occupying.”

Virgil sits, watching as Logan marks the page open in his lap before closing the book and turning to grab another. “Uh…”

“Take, for example,” Logan continues, “When Roman, Patton, Thomas, and I all came to your room when you had elected to leave. Over a relatively short amount of time, Roman, Patton, and I began to feel the effects of your room with the outcome being increased sense of insecurity, emotionality, and urgency respectively.”

Virgil nods. “Okay…”

Logan thumbs through a smaller book as he keeps talking. “Similarly, the sense of nostalgia and emotionality of Patton’s room led to various effects on all of us. Frustration on my part, romanticization—forgive the pun—from Roman, and your stress increased from the sense of where Thomas might otherwise be in his life. Correct?”

Virgil offers a wry, humorless smile at the memory. It had been an important thing for them all to do, but a part of it had certainly been rough for Virgil. “You could say that.”

Logan nods, not looking up as his eyes scanned the pages of the text open in his hands. “Therefore, it stood to reason that I develop the hypothesis that Roman’s corner of the mindscape might also affect our processes.” Logan glances quickly at him through the lenses of his glasses. “Especially prolonged exposure, and particularly in your case.”

Virgil frowns. “Why particularly me?”

Logan quickly flips through a few more pages as he responds. “Granted, I don’t know anything for sure. This is all pure speculation based on what data I had available and the research I was able to accrue over the past few days.”

“Uh—“

“But,” Logan continues, oblivious to the skeptical eyebrow Virgil raises, “Virgil, though your processes are more complex than this mere overgeneralization, you largely are the manifestation of Thomas’ anxiety and fears. Correct?” Logan’s voice is patient and measured. Calming in a way.

“Yeah…” Virgil says slowly.

Logan looks up then, his brown eyes both curious and calculating as he locks gazes with Virgil. “May I ask you another question?”

Virgil nods his agreement, gesturing for Logan to continue.

“Would you say that your level of distress increased throughout the five days you spent in Roman’s realm?”

“I…” Virgil trails off as he thinks about it. Logan is right. His anxiety had gotten a lot worse throughout the journey. The process had been gradual and steady for the most part, and the Anxious Side had largely attributed it to just… who he was. But by the time he and Roman had reached the stairwell, every fiber of him was begging for them both to turn the other way and never look back.

“Yeah,” Virgil says after a moment. “It… it was definitely getting worse.”

Logan nods as if the information confirmed something for him. “Creativity, as an energy, can often have adverse effects on the fight-or-flight response. Such influence may, for example, lead to increased cognitive distortions regarding the perception of threats in particular. In doing so, the cycle of impact becomes self-perpetuating.”

Virgil tugs at the sleeve of his hoodie as he turns over Logan’s words in his head. “What does that mean?”

Logan closes the book and looks carefully at the other Side. “In simple terms, your anxiety was heightened because the Creative energy that saturates Roman’s corner of the mindscape encouraged you to perceive increasingly worse threats, increasing your fight or flight response, which therefore worsen the perception of the threat, and so on.”

Virgil nods thoughtfully. So Creativity is what made his anxiety so much worse. That makes sense. “Okay, so that’s why I was more… on edge than normal. But there’s still something I don’t quite understand.”

Logan arches an eyebrow in piqued interest. “Hm?”

Virgil shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the hem of his sleeve as he pinches and pulls it between his fingertips. “Roman’s mindscape was rough on me. That’s fine. But it doesn’t exactly explain… what happened. Why would he…” He swallows, his voice dying in his throat.

A crease appears between Logan’s brows. “Why would he what, Virgil?”

Virgil sighs, shoving his hands back into his pockets again. “I…” Virgil can hear the hisses and shrieks of the monster whispering in his ear and fights back a shudder. He swallows hard. “Roman still has control over his realm, right? Everything in it… he created?”

What did it mean that Roman created the monster that nearly killed him? Did he think it would be some kind of sick joke? Did his ego just get the best of him that he finally created something bigger and stronger than he was? Why would he let it get so out of hand?

“Well,” Logan says slowly, “I think it may be more complicated than that.”

“What?”

The Logical Side snaps the book in his hands closed and sets it aside. He adjusts the frame of his glasses. “I arrived at the self-perpetuation hypothesis the night after your return. The rest of my research has been seeking to address the very question you’ve just posed.”

“And?”

Logan purses his lips, casting a furtive glance at Virgil. “I may have a theory, but I am lacking some… data sets that would be pertinent in either proving or disproving my current hypothesis.”

Virgil’s eyes flash up to meet his. “You want me to tell you what happened.”

“It… would be helpful, Virgil,” Logan says, his voice a bit softer. “And I think it might be beneficial for you as well.”

The impossibly-strong shadow. It’s hisses in Virgil’s ears as it wrestles for the sword. Roman screaming as its talons shred—

“No,” Virgil says.

“Virge—,” Logan tries, but Virgil is already on his feet.

“I said no, Logan,” he snaps. “Besides, what happened doesn’t matter. It’s over.”

“I—“

Virgil sinks out of the room.

…

Roman stands on the balcony overlooking the broad landscape of his realm. The wide expanse of sky is a flat gray, with darker clouds looming on the horizon. The rolling hills in the distance cast long shadows. The usually light breeze has sharpened to a harsh wind that tugs ominously at his red sash and the strands of his hair. Before, Roman could stand on this balcony overlooking his corner of the mindscape and feel that excited thrill rush through his stomach at all of the adventures yet to be embarked on, all the foes to yet vanquish, the performances yet to be acted.

But now…

Roman sighs and hangs his head, his hands beginning to shake slightly before he tightens his grip around the iron railing.

Now the thought of venturing any further than this balcony leaves him with a dizzying sense of paralyzing fear and faint nausea. Roman still isn’t entirely clear on what exactly happened, but somehow he’d… lost control of the mindscape. The one place where he was definitely supposed to have it. He didn’t always win every battle, but even when he didn’t, he had never almost… died, as a result.

Thunder rumbles in the distance.

He should have listened to Virgil. How could you be so stupid?

But Virgil had been watching him so closely the entire quest. And on occasion, when Roman bested a small beast or found a solution to a problem along the way, he’d see the way Virgil’s eyes would widen slightly, the corner of his mouth turned upwards a fraction. And Roman—with a warmth swelling in his chest—felt for once like maybe someone could be proud of him.

But Roman always had to push it too far, didn’t he? Always had to be Too Much, couldn’t stand to just be Enough.

So when Virgil urged Roman to turn back, the Prince refused. The Prince was no coward—the Prince couldn’t stand to think someone might think of him that way. Not when he’d seen the look he could convince himself was pride in Virgil’s eyes.

This is what I do, Virgil, he’d said. Roman sees lightning streak brightly across the sky as he realizes with a sickening sort of clarity that there was still a truth to the words.

Because that it is what he does, isn’t it? He dives recklessly headfirst into fights, consequences be damned. Except in this case, ‘consequences’ really meant Virgil. Roman had fought and lost and it was Virgil who saved him. When Virgil had rammed into it, tearing it off of him despite its impossible strength, Roman knew he would never again see that pride and trust that Virgil had placed in him so carefully.

Roman stays standing on the balcony even as the rain pours down hard and heavy around him.

…

“Kiddo?”

Virgil is sitting in small nook by the window in the mindscape commons with his hood pulled up, but he pulls the earbuds out of his ears when he hears Patton’s voice. The Moral Side is giving him a soft inquisitive smile, holding two mugs in his hands. Patton hands one to him. It’s tea.

“Mind if I join ya?” Patton asks.

“Uh, sure,” Virgil says, pulling his knees up closer as he accepts the drink. Patton sits across from him, taking a quiet sip.

For a moment, the two sit in companionable silence. Virgil inhales the scent of the tea—lavender and cinnamon, he notices—and feels, for the first time in a very long time, the tight knots in his stomach loosen just a little. The mindscape is unusually quiet. Although, Virgil figures that had probably been true for the past few days. He doesn’t know for sure. He’d been spending a lot of time alone, not wanting to bother any of the other Sides.

“I’ve missed this,” Patton says softly, as if reading Virgil’s thoughts. Startled, Virgil looks up. Patton’s smile is soft, but there’s a sadness in his eyes that makes Virgil’s heart sink.

“Pat, I…”

Patton shakes his head. “I didn’t say it to make you feel bad, kiddo.” He takes another sip of tea. “A Dad just worries about his kids.”

Virgil averts his gaze, opting instead to swallow some of the warm drink. “I… I’m sorry.”

“You did nothing wrong, Virgil,” Patton tells him gently.

Virgil stares at the tea bag floating in his cup. There’s a beat of silence between them.

He hears Patton take in a deep and not wholly-steady breath. When he looks up, the smile the Moral Side offers doesn’t reach his eyes. Patton lifts a shoulder. “It was scary, though. When you both came back.”

Virgil’s grip tightens around his mug. The lump in his throat hardens slightly.

Patton’s soft, quiet voice floats in the air between them. “You were both hurt. You were bleeding a little, but I don’t think you even noticed. Roman was… very seriously injured. I’ll never forget the look in your eyes, Virge. I’ll never forget the look in Roman’s either. Both of you were terrified out of your minds.”

The edges of Virgil’s vision starts to blur with tears. He blinks a few times, but doesn’t lift his gaze from the steam curling up from his mug.

“You were both trying so hard to stay calm for each other, but I saw—could feel—how afraid you both were. When I asked you if it was enough that you were both safe, you told me it was. But… I don’t think that’s true, kiddo. Not really.”

Yes, it is. It’s enough. It’s all in the past. Virgil takes in a breath to argue exactly that, but the air trembles and catches in his lungs.

“Virgil, honey, look at me,” Patton requests softly and gently. It takes Virgil a long moment before he lets his brown eyes flicker up to Patton’s.

“It’s okay if it’s not enough,” Patton tells him as he reaches a hand and brushes Virgil’s bangs slightly out of his eyes. “But take it from someone who has a lot of experience in it when I tell you that you can’t keep bottling it up. You can’t, Virgil. We aren’t supposed to hold pain so closely.”

Virgil feels his vision blur again and he quickly brushes the sleeve of his hoodie across his eyes. He struggles to find words in the torrent sea of thoughts that press in the back of his mind. “I…” His voice catches but he forces the words out in a whisper. “I can’t.”

“Why not, Virge?”

“Because… because…” Virgil clenches his jaw for a moment. “It’s too much, Patton. It’s… It’s all my fault. I feel like it’s all my fault, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, kiddo,” Patton says with a sad smile. “You’re not the only one. But you don’t have to do anything. Just talk to one of us.”

“I don’t…” Want to burden you.

Patton seems to read his thoughts. “This is something we shoulder together. I’m not going to force you to talk about it right now, kiddo, but please talk to someone soon. I’m always around, any time day or night. So is Logan. So is Roman.”

When he glances up, he sees the warm sincerity and tinge of concern in Patton’s dark eyes. Virgil swallows and nods. “Okay.”

…

Roman stands at the door to Logan’s room. He sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. It’s some ungodly hour at night—Roman hadn’t bothered to check the clock—and it’s more likely than not that Logan is asleep. It’s hardly like this is urgent. Roman doesn’t even know why he found himself padding quietly through the mindscape to stop at the Logical Side’s door.

He shakes his head, and is about turn away when he hears a quiet thud and Logan’s unmistakable, muttered cursing.

At least he’s already awake, right? Roman tells himself, before knocking quietly.

“Hm? Come in,” Logan’s voice replies. Roman cracks the door open before entering the room fully and letting the door close behind him. Logan is leaning down to pick a book up as the Creative Side steps into the room. “Roman. I must admit, you were not who I was expecting.”

Roman forces a smile. “Sorry to disappoint you, Specs.”

Logan’s gaze narrows almost imperceptibly. “Quite the contrary. I merely meant to convey surprise.” He straightens up with the book in his hands.

Roman glances around the room. There are more books and scribbled notes visible than there is carpet or bedding. “What’s all this for?”

Logan sets the book in his hands on top of a stack of them at the corner of his desk. “Research.” He glances quickly at the Creative Side. “I don’t mean to make you feel unwelcome, Roman, but did you come here with a specific purpose in mind?”

Roman doesn’t answer right away. How is he supposed to explain to Logan that he’d been lying in his canopy bed, staring at the ceiling, and feeling the echo of a brilliant and intense pain slice through his chest before deciding he just couldn’t take it anymore?

He lifts a shoulder. “A Prince can’t check on his subjects once in a while?”

Logan looks unconvinced. “Roman, it is nearly 3 in the morning. Most are sleeping at this hour.”

“You’re awake too, you know.”

“Doing research,” Logan rejoins simply. “I have stated my purpose. Besides, you are still recovering. Substantial rest is optimal for healing.”

“I’m fine, Logan.”

“Falsehood.” Logan levels a steady, unflinching gaze at the Prince.

Roman averts his gaze. “I just couldn’t sleep, okay? And I thought Patton’s room would probably be the wrong choice, and Virgil is having enough problems sleeping without me waking him up, and I noticed you were already awake, so I just… I thought…” What? Roman doesn’t even know what he was thinking, really.

Logan looks at him thoughtfully for a moment. “Have you frequently been having trouble falling asleep?” He moves towards his bed, marking the open pages before folding the books closed and stacking them on top of one another on the bookshelf beside his bed.

“I…” Roman blinks hard for a moment. “I guess,” he admits quietly.

“When did it start?”

“After.”

“I think—” Logan turns to face him, his words careful and measured—“it would be beneficial for you to name it and talk about it.”

The Creative Side shakes his head adamantly, feeling a flash of frustration heat his face. The words spill out of his mouth before he can think to stop them. “Why? Why does talking about it matter so much? I already spend every waking moment thinking about it, Logan, so why do I have to speak it aloud. It’s already too–,” Painful. Roman snaps his jaw shut, but he has already said too much.

As good as Logan is at keeping his expression neutral the majority of the time, the surprise is evident on his face. “You feel guilty?”

Roman scoffs, throwing his hands up. “Of course I do! How could I not?” He points a finger towards Logan’s door. “Patton hasn’t had a real smile in days because of me. You’ve been drowning yourself in research because of me. Virgil has nightmares every night because of me.”

“Roman—,”

“I lost control of my own corner of the mindscape, Logan,” Roman continues. The edges of his vision start to blur and he blinks hard to clear it. “I’ve never not known what was in the mindscape when I embark on quests, but this time…” His hands ball into fists at his side. “I lost control of it. What does that say about me, huh? Can’t even contain my own creations. I put Virgil in danger. I…”

Logan’s brows pull together. “Wait. What do you mean you ‘lost control of the mindscape’?”

Roman sighs. “I… Virgil and I got locked in a cave and there was this… shadow beast. I didn’t create it, Logan. I… had no idea what it was.” But he remembers it vividly. Its not-quite humanness, the way it shrieked and hissed and moved impossibly fast. It’s raw strength squeezing at his throat. Throwing him through the air without even touching him. Shredding through his chest with a searing, blinding pain—

Logan frowns. “That seems… improbable.”

“I know what I s–!”

“No, you misunderstand,” Logan says quickly, holding up a hand. “I didn’t mean to accuse you of fabricating a falsehood. Merely that this is new information. What you just described is… odd. I assume that this ‘shadow beast’, as you called it, is the perpetrator of the injuries you sustained?”

Roman swallows and nods hollowly. “Yeah.”

Logan hums thoughtfully before grabbing a notebook off of the desk and pulling the pencil from behind his ear. “So somehow, something that you did not create existed within your realm, interacted with you directly, with the ability and intention to cause tremendous trauma.” As he speaks, Logan scrawls messily on the page.

“Uh, yes. I-I guess you could phrase it that way.”

“And this has never happened before?”

Roman peers closer at the page, taking a step towards the Logical Side. Logan’s handwriting is too messy and the Prince is too tired to decipher it upside down. “That would be correct.”

“Then what is the variable here?” Logan mutters, mostly to himself. “Thomas is in perfect health, so that isn’t it…” His gaze flies back up to Roman. “Would you say that there was anything unusual about this particular quest? Anything out of the ordinary?”

The Creative Side scratches the back of his head, confused about Logan’s sudden change of demeanor. “Nothing comes to mind. Well, aside from Virgil’s accompaniment, of course.”

Logan stares at him for a moment. “Of course,” he says softly. Something alights in his eyes. “Of course! How did I not see it before?” He spins around suddenly and starts shifting books his desk around before grabbing a notebook—different than the one he had in his hands—and thumbing through the notes.

“Um, Logan?”

“The self-perpetuation hypothesis. The relationship of reciprocity is vastly more complicated that I’d first thought.”

“In English?”

The corner of Logan’s mouth quirks up in a small self-assured smile. His bright eyes rise and lock onto Roman. “Virgil was the variable.”

…

Virgil pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. The light leaking out from under Logan’s door meant the Logical Side was probably already awake, right? Virgil’s heart is still thudding in his chest with the nightmare-induced adrenaline that he can’t seem to shake out of his system. The Anxious Side pulls the sleeves of his hoodie over his palms. He knocks softly, then hears voices on the other side.

“—ination of the conflicting processes, combined with the creation-driven tendencies of your realm, resulted in the corporeal form.” Logan.

“Wait.” Roman. Virgil is almost certain. “So Virgil was influencing the mindscape? That’s why that… thing showed up?”

“Perhaps an oversimplification, but yes, precisely.” Logan’s voice, getting louder as he—presumably—crosses the room towards the door.

Virgil’s stomach hits the floor.

He’d known it was his fault, of course, but there is still something faintly sickening at hearing the very person he’d failed to protect and the literal Voice of Reason confirm his guilt. He had been influencing the mindscape. Roman’s realm.

Roman hadn’t created that thing. Virgil had.

That corporeal shadow that had sunk it’s talons into Roman’s chest and ripped through his skin had been because of him.

The memory of Roman’s scream floods his mind. You did that to him.

Virgil can’t breathe.

The door opens, but Virgil’s mind is swimming—drowning, really—in the repeated mantra he can’t shake. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault.

“Virgil?”

“Shit. Virge, it’s okay—“

It’s not it’s not it’s not

He bolts.

…

Roman shoulders his way past the Logical Side as Virgil runs down the hallway back towards his room. “Virgil!” But the Anxious Side is gone already. Roman rakes a hand through his hair and blows out a breath. He spins around to face Logan, his eyes wide.

Logan’s eyes are unusually solemn. He nods in the direction that Virgil had gone.

Roman wastes no time, rushing down the hall after the Anxious Side. His strides are long and hurried, and he nearly crashes into Patton as the Moral Side steps out of his own room in his cat onesie.

“Whoa there, kiddo,” Patton says, grabbing the Prince’s shoulders to steady him as he stumbles to a halt. “Where are you off to in such a rush at this hour?”

Roman’s gaze is focused over Patton’s head. “Virgil,” he says, shrugging out of his grip.

“Wait. Roman, slow down,” Patton says, frowning, “What’s wrong with Virge?”

Roman barely hears the question. Logan speaks up for him. “I believe Virgil overheard Roman and I discussing the events of the past few days and now feels responsible for what transpired.”

“I have to—,” Roman tries, but Patton interrupts him.

“What did you say?”

“I don’t know how much he heard,” Logan replies, his voice subdued in the dark. “But given his reaction, I’m almost certain he did not hear all of it. I was merely explaining to Roman that the energy produced by his realm entered in a relationship of reciprocity that worsened exponentially until conflating into something corporeal due to the particular tendencies of Roman’s—”

“Another time, Logan,” Roman snaps before he can think. Virgil’s huge eyes and faintly nauseous look is all he can think about.

Patton sighs. “I’ll talk to him.”

“No,” Roman says suddenly, tearing his gaze away from down the hall to settle squarely on the paternal Side. “I… Thank you, Patton, but I think this is something I have to do.”

…

Virgil’s breaths are coming short and quick. He yanks the hood up over his head and tugs on the drawstrings as he paces in his room. Your fault, your fault, your fault. Virgil feels like screaming. If only he could find his voice.

He hears the quiet whoosh behind him and his heart constricts in alarm. He clenches his jaw. He doesn’t need to turn around to tell who it is. “Roman, what are you doing?” he demands. “It’s not safe for you in here.”

“I just—“

“Get out,” he grits behind clenched teeth.

“Virgil, just talk to me—“

Virgil scoffs and shakes his head. “Damn it, Roman—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Virge.”

Virgil whirls on him. “Didn’t do anything wrong? Didn’t do anything wrong?! I’m supposed to protect you! That’s my job, Roman! And I-I-I…” Virgil’s voice shakes. His chest heaves. “Not only did I fail, but I put you in danger. I nearly killed you! That’s on me.”

“No, hey.” Roman grabs his hand and presses it firmly in the center of his chest. Virgil tries to pull it away like it burns him but Roman holds it steady. Virgil can feel his heartbeat thudding hard and fast against his palm. “You feel that? That’s because of you. Because you saved me.”

“Roman—“

“Listen to me, Virgil,” Roman implores. The desperate earnestness in his voice makes Virgil look up. His protests die on his tongue at the tears pressing against the Prince’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have brought you into my realm in the first place, and I absolutely should have listened to you when you wanted to turn back. You were right, Virgil. And you were doing everything you could to protect me. And I am so sorry that I couldn’t see that.”

Virgil shakes his head, opening his mouth only to find no words forming.

Roman squeezes Virgil’s hand to his chest a little harder. “I… that monster was the manifestation of your anxiety at its worst. Every nightmare and fear you’d ever had, staring you in the face. And when you were confronted with fight or flight, you chose the first one. At great risk to yourself. For me. You found the strength to overcome it, to fight back, to… I…” His voice catches. He shakes his head, blinking a few times as a tear or two spill over. “You are so brave, Virgil.”

Virgil’s hand fists in Roman’s shirt against his chest. “But… I… it wouldn’t have even been necessary if I hadn’t—“

“This,” Roman cuts in, squeezing his hand against his heartbeat, “is the only thing you should feel responsible for.”

Virgil can feel a sob fighting up his throat as his vision blurs, and he does his best to swallow it down. He squeezes his eyes shut, sending a few of the pooling tears down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, Virge. Pulling you into my realm… it caused you tremendous distress. Bad enough to actually take a physical form due to the creation tendencies of my realm. That’s…” The Prince’s voice catches slightly. “I can’t ever forgive myself for putting you through that.”

Virgil shakes his head quickly. He looks up into the other Side’s soft, pained gaze. “No, I… Roman, you didn’t know. Nobody did. And you told me I could turn back whenever I wanted to. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“You said it yourself, Virge,” Roman says. “You’re the protector. So long as I was going to press on, so were you. I should have known that. I should have listened to you, in the very least.”

Virgil wipes at his eyes, ignoring the way the makeup smeared across his fingers. “Why didn’t you?” he asks quietly.

Roman averts his gaze, then closes his eyes. “I…” He sighs, then shrugs helplessly. “I just… I didn’t want you to think I was a coward.”

Virgil feels something deflate inside his chest. “Did you think I was a coward for wanting to turn back?”

“Of course not!” Roman argues vehemently, his eyes flying back to Virgil’s. “That’s not what I meant. I just…”

“Then what?”

“I wanted to feel like you were proud of me!”

From the way the Prince’s eyes widen, he hadn’t meant to say it. His eyes flicker over Virgil’s face, and the Anxious Side isn’t sure what his expression is. He doesn’t know what Roman finds in his face, but the Creative Side squeezes his eyes shut a moment later. Virgil watches a few tears spill down his cheeks.

“For once,” the Prince whispers, “I just… wanted to make someone proud.”

“Roman…” Virgil says, his heart constricting at the look on Roman’s face even as confusion knits his eyebrows together, “I’ve always been proud of you.”

“I… what?” Roman’s eyes open suddenly, locking squarely onto the Anxious Side.

“I’ve always been proud of you,” Virgil repeats with conviction. “I mean, geez, Roman, you’re Thomas’s hopes and dreams. His creativity. Without you, I…. I don’t know where we’d be.”

Roman is shaking his head. Virgil presses on. “All of the obstacles we’ve overcome… you’re a big part of that. I may point out what the obstacles are, but you’re what pushes Thomas to work to overcome them regardless. You give so much of yourself every time Thomas makes new content. You thrust yourself into the spotlight again and again. I couldn’t do that, ever. Of course I’m proud of you, Sir Sing-a-Lot. We all are.”

Roman laughs, but it sounds a lot more like a sob. “I’m sorry.”

Virgil shakes his head. His voice catches in his throat. He coughs and tries again. “So am I.”

The faintest hint of a smile tugs at the corner of Roman’s mouth. “We’re both a bit of a mess, huh?”

Virgil barks out a laugh, even as he feels Roman brush a tear with the pad of his thumb. “Yeah, we kind of are.”

“I just…” Roman brushes at his own eyes. “I just wish I could fix it. I wish I knew how.”

He looks up at the Prince in front of him, stripped of his normal attire, looking abruptly vulnerable and exposed in just red pajama pants and a white t-shirt. His eyes are dark, the beginnings of eyeshadow only emphasizing the fact. He’s exhausted, and scared, and it makes Virgil equally aware of his own mutual feelings of tiredness and fear.

Virgil focuses for just a moment on the thudding rhythm against his hands.

“Y’know,” he says slowly, “a Prince once said the only direction to go is forward, one step at a time.”

Roman’s chest expands under Virgil’s hand with a deep, steadying breath. The Anxious Side breathes with him.

“I think,” Virgil continues softly, “that’s a good place to start.”

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