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evilblot · 2 years

Note

Fandom ask game, Resident Evil! I was thinking Village, but feel free to pull from the series as a whole!

Well, despite knowing basically everyone in the series personally (and some of them... carnally hfhfhf), I don't think I'm ready to open the REvildora's Box™ just yet, so instead I shall curse you with my very based opinions on RE4 and Village instead for they are my beloveds <3c

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most)

RE4: The Merchant! My bestie, my pal, my boinky spunge... God I love him so much <3c Best comfort character to ever step into a RE game, I wish I could snatch him like the purse and take him home with me. Also Capcom if you're reading this... Bring him back. Tell me he's all right. Explain how the Duke knows about him. I NEED ANSWERS FFS >:(

RE Village: No thoughts, only Sturm frolicking free within the walls of my skull, bouncing around my brain like the DVD screensaver dispensing dopamine like a murderous vending machine... We shall be married in spring <3c

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped)

RE4: Regenerators! They're shaped like friends and they give the best hugs! Sweet toothy babies, there's not a single thought behind those eyes and we're all absolutely thankful for that jddhk Also shout out to my guys the Garradors. Absolutely fucked up choices have been made for y'all's design but you're still my fave thing to crash into in the Castle 💜

RE Village: 《 *covers the mic* Can I say Sturm again? ..No? Aight, fine, I still got this dw 》 Call me based but the Soldaten are my squad and I will hoard them like a crazy old lady gathers stray cats. Sure, they're a little blood-thirsty and they definitely don't smell good but I don't care, they're so dear to my heart I can ignore such trivialities <3c (also I'm armed with wet towelettes and I ain't afraid to use them fhfhgh)

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave)

RE4: Ingrid. She's not really a "fave" of mine but I do like her, she was there for us when no one else was and honestly she's quite the most beautiful sight we get to see on screen imo... too bad everyone is obsessed with Ada instead smh 🙄

RE Village: Donna Beneviento. Maybe it's the gay panic, maybe it's her chapter being one of the most amazing things I've ever witnessed in a RE game or maybe it's just the sad Italian bitches solidarity™ but she's really grown on me ngl. I just wish we had seen a little more about her though :/

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I will not ever shut up about it for a week)

RE4: Mike. We met for a short time but I loved you from the first moment... To bad you had to die so soon waaaa 😭💔

RE Village: Angie, who just like her creator hasn't received the right space she deserves within the narrative. Her design is top notch, her character is literally through the roof and the fact that she's the unhinged part of Donna? Fuck Capcom, why don't we explore that a bit more uh? Why don't we get to know more about this dynamic uhh??? Justice for Angie and Donna when 😤

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave)

RE4: Fucking Osmund Saddler. He's slimy, he's nasty, he's got tentacles in places they shouldn't be... He's the cult leader we don't need but surely deserve basically fjhd. Love to babygirlify him one day, I think that would fix him for good uwu💅✨

RE Village: Uhh I'm gonna regret this but uh.. Mother Miranda. Girlboss, gatekeep, gaslight queen am I right? I really like her character (that design... Yes!), her motivations and overall her story arc which, despite not being flawless and could've been better managed into terms of writing, I do find quite interesting :) She still gives me kinda the homophobic vibes though so hmm. I'm conflicted fjfhh

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason)

RE4: Salazar. I have nothing against him, I actually kinda like him but he's short and a brat so I'm just compelled to poke fun at him (and perhaps risk the fury of his bodyguards maybe even being manhandled by them, oh noo whatever shall I dooooo hrsgahg 👀🥴). Aaand Bitores too. Like to slap his bald head reblog to slap his bald head 🎱🙋

RE Village: Heisenberg, and this time it's personal >:3c

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell)

RE4: Krauser. He's a half-naked annoying crummy bundle of toxic masculinity whose perky nipples have harassed me on screen long enough. It's time to STOP. Go to therapy. Please?

RE Village: I think everyone should take turns in there. Not because I hate any of them but because I want to see the ensuing chaos unleashed down there uwu

Aaand we're done, tènkius so much for the ask, I've had a lot of fun with this one (despite taking an hour to come up with an answer that wasn't just copy-pasting Sturm and the Merchant for every category fjfhhf) and ofc if any of y'all is a RE fan you're more than welcome to come here and roast me for my life choices djfbdhfb <3c

#resident evil 4 #resident evil village #ask game #foolishwritingsstupidideas #get to know the corpse #oh yes this is definitely going on the other blog jddhk

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goodboywyrmwood · 3 years

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10/01 Crystal Nice to draw it again. It's got half a braincell bouncing around behind those eyes like a dvd screensaver..

#inktober2021 #crystal

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terror-that-flaps-in-the-evening · 5 years

Text

A Long Time Coming

“When you’re tired of me hanging around, let me know, and I’ll go,” Drake’s words floated across the garage, breaking the semi-silence that had been permeating through the room. Of course, it was never really silent when the two of them were hanging out. They always had a Darkwing episode playing in the background, despite the fact that the two of them were usually doing their own thing by this point.

It was just sort of a comfort to be in the presence of his new crime-fighting partner. Drake didn’t really know what it was about him, but even when they were just sprawled across the couch, Drake’s feet haphazardly thrown in Launchpad’s lap as the larger one of the two scribbled away in a coloring book, he felt at home. Despite the fact that Drake felt so at-home though, it wasn’t his home and it wasn’t his place to lay about all day until it was time for them to go patrolling.

“I never get tired of having company,” Launchpad replied, tapping Drake’s foot with his crayon before going back to intently scribbling away at his page.

“Well, yeah, I don’t either, I just mean, y’know…” Drake gestured around broadly, nearly knocking himself off the couch in the process. “Ermm, I don’t want to be annoying.”

“Well, joke’s on you, because we have a strict no-annoying rule in this household! Or, well, the household part that’s mine to live in…? In this garage!” Launchpad poked Drake’s foot with the crayon again.

“As in I’m not allowed to be annoying?” Drake tensed up a little, unsure of what Launchpad meant. Was this his way of telling him that he was no longer welcome? Was he being annoying and breaking the rules that Launchpad had--

“It means no one’s annoying here, because no one can annoy me,” Launchpad said, but before Drake had a chance to respond, he held out his hand. Drake very nearly questioned why, but once he heard the opening note of the end credits, he realized why. So, the two of them hummed and ‘sang’ along to the end credits, making saxophone noises unabashedly loud. Drake grinned, realizing that his fears were quite out of place. After all, if Launchpad found him annoying, why would they be sitting together on the couch being total dorks together?

Drake tried to go back to reading the story he had been perusing on his phone, but for some reason, he kept finding himself reading a paragraph only to find that he hadn’t gathered any of the information in. It wasn’t until he zoned out completely - staring forward at the duck in front of him - that he realized that it wasn’t just his brain distracting him for once. Drake felt his cheeks heating up immediately.

Nope! He couldn’t go there. He couldn’t let himself start to think of his one real friend like… that. Drake yanked his feet out of Launchpad’s lap, pulling them as close to himself as possible. Surely it would go away if he was out of the sphere of warmth that radiated from the other. He could feel his heart pounding away in his chest though, taking over his every thought. He tried to break himself away from his consciousness tunneling in on his heartbeat.

Launchpad was his partner in crime. Launchpad was his best friend. Launchpad was not someone who’d be interested in a wreck like Drake. Launchpad was not someone that Drake was worthy of. He’d keep his distance. No more of their laying on the couch together, falling asleep on the floor together after a long night, leaning on each other at the movies--- wait.

Wait, wait, wait. Drake felt his heart speed up even faster as he realized that he’d been subconsciously indulging his love-interest that he hadn’t even realized he’d had for quite some time now. Launchpad was probably so incredibly done with him by this point What had he been doing? Was this really what his life had boiled down to? Leave it to Drake Mallard to only realizing he’d been crushing on someone after presenting it ever so clearly to everyone but himself.

“Uhh, Drake?” Drake heard a sound over the pounding of his heart, but his brain was running through its cycle of ‘you’re an idiot, Drake’ too quickly for him to really understand it.

He forced his eyes open - eyes that he hadn’t realized he had shut - only to squeeze them shut again when he saw Launchpad, ever so close to him. He managed to squeeze one eye open enough to see what was going on. Launchpad was leaning towards him, his eyes wide as he stared down at Drake, who was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he had managed to curl himself up into a ball on the end of the couch without thinking.

“I should probably go,” Drake said, attempting to move his legs to stand, but they felt like jelly even before he managed to move them. So, instead, he went with his second plan of just… rolling off the couch. He landed on the floor with a thud, but at least the shock allowed him to convince him limbs that they needed to work with him. His brain was screaming at him that he needed to escape - he needed to get out before he said something he regretted. He couldn’t let himself ruin the perfect friendship with some stupid, muddled feelings.

“Drake, wait,” Launchpad stared wide eyed at him, causing Drake’s heart to skip a beat when he noticed the pain in the other’s eyes. “What’s… You’re acting weird.”

‘You’re acting weird’ -- the words echoed through Drake’s brain over and over, bouncing around the depths of his mind like one of those old DVD player screensavers - he was doing it again. He was ruining the one thing that made him feel like he was at peace with the world.

“I’m sorry,” Drake managed to squeak out, scared to speak a word for fear of what his mouth would say without permission from his brain. He struggled to his feet, taking a few steps back, yet unable to tear his eyes away from the face of the one he had been peacefully hanging out with only a few moments earlier. Launchpad’s mouth was hanging slightly open, his eyes darting around rapidly, mostly going to and from Drake. He was breathing heavily, despite the fact that not much had happened as far as Drake was aware. But that was only as far as Drake was aware. Who knew how long he had been tunnel visioning on the couch, only able to hear his thoughts and his blood rushing in his ears.

He saw Launchpad take a step towards him, and his brain began to scream at him that he needed to leave. He needed to go, before he let things get worse than they already were. He needed to back out of the situation, somehow make his way home, send out an innocuous text that insinuated that he was not panicking a few moments ago, no. He was just… feeling sick. Yeah, obviously, he was just feeling sick, that would work as an excuse -- if he could only force his feet to move. His plan required a swift escape for it to work.

So, Drake hopped up onto his shaky legs, swaying slightly but staying up, as he was so apt at doing.He mumbled a very quick goodbye, along with some mumbled apologies and he started walking for the door. If he could just get out of there, then he could go home, distance himself just enough to get rid of his feelings, and pretend like nothing ever happened. Launchpad would forget his freak out, and he’d probably be happier for the distance that Drake was giving him.

He would have been able to walk out and enact his self-destructive plan if not for one thing - Launchpad grabbed his shoulder lightly. “Drake, wait,” he heard spoken behind him in that voice that was making his heart speed up against his will.

“I need to go,” he repeated quietly, struggling to not blurt out everything - the reasons he needed to leave, how scared he was to mess up this friendship that meant the world to him, the fact that he was having trouble convincing himself to tear his eyes away from Launchpad…. He could go on, but he needed to say absolutely none of it.

“What’s wrong?” Launchpad was breathless as he spoke, eyes darting around wildly only releasing his grip on Drake’s shoulder when Drake took another step back. “Did I do something wrong?”

Drake’s eyes grew wide at that. He couldn’t leave letting Launchpad blame himself for Drake’s follies. That just wouldn’t do… But he had to pick his words carefully, he couldn’t just go blurting out words all crazily, especially not in this state of mind. “You’re perfect, you couldn’t do anything wrong…” He slapped his hands over his beak, stepping backwards until his back was flush with the wall, leaning on it as his legs threatened to stop holding him up. “I-I didn’t, I mean, well, not that you’re… I just…” Drake blabbered and blabbered, fighting against his brain’s tendency to blurt out whatever came to his mind.

“Drake, calm down,” Launchpad took a step closer, holding his hands up as if approaching an injured animal, “Come here, okay?” Launchpad took another half step closer, opening his arms up a little further. “You can tell me what’s up,” he stopped where he was, luckily for Drake still a few feet away. His open arms made Drake long to flee into them, to pour his heart out to his partner.

He could see what would happen though. He could just imagine how as he told the horrible secret of his crush to Launchpad how the hug would stiffen and eventually end with him being pushed away. Disgusting he’d no doubt be called. It happened before, and it’d happen again. “Just forget about it,” Drake mumbled, taking a sidestep towards the door away from Launchpad’s welcoming arms.

“C’mon, you can tell me anything,” Launchpad said, his brow furrowed, “We don’t have to watch all of my favorite episodes anymore if that’s the problem. You can choose the next one, I promise!”

Drake felt a smile creep up on him against all odds, grinning at Launchpad’s misconception that his panic was at something so simple as what episode of Darkwing Duck they watched. If only it was something as simple as that. “I’d watch any of them with you,” Drake blurted out yet another incriminating statement, whipping the smile right back into the pit it had managed to crawl out of. “B-But I really have to go…”

He took another sidestep towards the door, cringing at the frown that was entrenched on Launchpad’s normally infallibly happy face. He couldn’t stand the fact that he was the one putting that horrible look on the face of the person most important to him. He’d only be doing more harm if he stayed though. It was the lesser of two evils, but evil nonetheless.

“At least let me drive you home!” Launchpad practically yelled his words through his distress, dashing over to the counter by the fridge to grab the keys to the limo. “You can’t get too tired before patrol!”

Ah, patrol, Drake realized he had that to dread as well - it always ended up with the two of them fighting in close quarters, Launchpad catching Drake more often than not and helping him get back on his feet. Drake didn’t know if he’d be able to get back up that night, what with his heart beating so fast that his legs were jelly and the nagging want in the back of his mind to just melt into Launchpad’s arms. He shook his head as if that would expel the traitorous thoughts from his mind.

“I don’t think I’ll patrol tonight,” Drake mumbled, already loathing the words that he knew he’d have to speak next, “Gizmoduck can handle one night alone.” He spoke those words through gritted teeth using every ounce of self-control that he had. But if it meant keeping Launchpad McQuack in his life, he could even stoop so low as to imply that he considered the Mechanical Menace to be a real hero.

“Buh,” Launchpad cocked his head at Drake, “Uhhh,” He cocked it the other direction, squinting intensely in Drake’s direction, “Is this a prank?” His words were as tentative as the smile that was just barely creeping up the edges of his beak, “Are you, uhh, feeling alright, DW?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Drake squeaked out, barely breathing. He needed to go. He needed to escape the feelings, hole up in his house, get back down to basics. Maybe spend the night practicing his fighting, or maybe he could manage to sneak out and go on a little patrol all on his own, despite the fact that Launchpad would most likely very much protest that, repeating that even superheroes needed someone to catch their back, as he often did when Drake voiced his concerns that Launchpad shouldn’t get hurt for Drake's own personal quest as Darkwing. They were partners in this thing, Launchpad would tell him again and again, which Drake knew as true, but still, what with everything going on in his mind, maybe he needed a night of --

“You’re going to sneak out on your own, aren’t you!” Launchpad exclaimed throwing a finger in Drake’s direction, “Oh and to think I thought this was a real problem.. DW we’re partners! We’re two halves of a sandwich cookie and the bad guys are the cream filling - they’ll go everywhere if there’s not the two of us to hold em down, yknow?”

Drake dragged himself out of his rambling thoughts - freaking out all over again when he realized they had been revolving entirely around Launchpad yet again. He had to play it off. Play it cool. Be the complete and polar opposite of Drake Mallard. “I’m just tired,” he said, averting his eyes. He felt as if Launchpad would be able to sense the lie, see it lying deep within his treacherous soul should he look him in the eyes.

“You’re lying,” Launchpad shot back with a laugh, leaving Drake with the terrifying thought that maybe Launchpad could see into his thoughts even without that eye contact… That’d explain why he was always so eerily caring of Drake’s every need… Drake shook that thought out of his head very physically as well though, seeing as it was irrational even for him. (Not before testing his theory by screaming some very loud thoughts in Launchpad’s direction, of course.)

“I, well, I don’t really think that… It’s not really… I just need to go, okay!” Drake’s words started as a low mumble but as he became more and more lost in the battle of not destroying everything with a misplaced outburst, they built up into an outburst of a different kind. Why must he always end up floundering in a dried up sea of words? He couldn’t help but be hopelessly aware that he was making himself look like a fool in front of Launchpad, no matter how hopeless any crush on the man might be.

“You can tell me what’s wrong,” Launchpad spoke his words softly, reaching an arm out for Drake initially, but retracting it quickly with a frown when he saw Drake flinch.

“I can’t tell you,” Drake’s words jumped out of his mouth forcefully, his words breathy and rushed, “You mean too much to chase you away with some dumb crus---” Drake clapped his hands over his beak dragging them down his face a little too harshly as he realized just exactly what he’d said. It was over. He’d lost.

“You…” Launchpad squinted at him for a second, causing Drake to press himself deeper against the wall. Maybe if he leaned on it hard enough, it could take him in, let him live his life as mere bricks void of any thoughts or emotions to ruin his non-life.

“I know, it’s the dumbest thing ever, and I swear I won’t let it get in the way of our crime fighting. Completely normal, I’ll act. It can go back! Pretend I never spoke? Rewind time? I just don't want to lose you, that is, I don’t want to lose you as a friend?” Drake spoke all of his words straight into his hands, only peeking out between his fingers at his final semi-question. For some reason though, some inexplicable reason, instead of the disgusted glare Drake was expecting, Launchpad had a grin larger than life.

“You too!” His words came bursting out in an exuberant barely contained yell, engulfing Drake’s spirits and lifting them up as they echoed throughout the garage.

“Me… too…?” Drake questioned, not wanting to misinterpret. He couldn’t get his hopes up. No matter how much he knew they had already risen beyond his control, Drake tried to slow his heartbeat, to force himself back to normal, or even force himself back into panic mode rather than the disconcerting feeling of hope that he knew would be crushed.

“Well, I didn’t want you to think that I liked you because you’re Darkwing, because let’s face it that’s an added bonus, and I didn’t know how to tell you, and I didn’t know if you’d feel the same, and we just have so much fun here I didn’t want to interrupt it, and you feel the same way!” Launchpad’s words were a blur, spoken way too fast for Drake to catch each one, but still the ones he caught rang in his ears over and over. The same way? Launchpad… liked him?

“You…” Drake’s words were lost under the rush of his heartbeat in his own ears, “Me…?” He tried his hardest to form an actual sentence, but all that came out were single words - barely even that if he had to be honest with himself.

He felt himself engulfed in a huge hug from the much larger man. Honestly, just that feeling of warmth, the smell of leather, oil, bubblegum, and a little bit of mustard wafting in his nose, and the knowledge that the man hugging him actually liked him (He liked Drake Mallard…. Him!) eased away Drake’s nagging thoughts that it was too good to be true. He managed to lift his arms up to wrap them firmly around the other man, finally letting the joy of the situation sink in. Launchpad McQuack… Probably the most desirable man alive… He liked Drake Mallard.

“I guess I should have spoken up sooner,” Drake mumbled into Launchpad’s chest, his grin now unsupressable. Maybe he was destined to have a happy ending after all. In that moment, Drake could see it all ahead - he could see the rest of his life spent with the man hugging him. And quite a perfect life it would be so long as he spent it with Launchpad.

#drakepad #Drake Mallard #launchpad mcquack #darkwing duck #Poor Drake is a little bit of a panicker...#I love writing different situations based on how they move from partners in crime-fighting to partners in life #LizardWriter #fanfic #Launchpad might be a bit OOC I'm sorry...

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knives-out20 · 4 years

Text

Meeting The Parents - Erik Lehnsherr x Male!OC

Fandom: X-Men

Pairing: Karmel Rosenstein (OC) x Erik Lehnsherr

Warnings: Swearing, Fluffy ig, Sad Karmel, Karmel crying, Talking to the dead,

Notes: Had this idea bouncing around my head all day like a DVD screensaver. Enjoy!

Karmel and Erik stood at the front gates of a cemetery, wearing dark clothes. He adjusted the tie he wore, one that was his dad’s favourite. “You- You sure you wanna come in? You don’t need to, Erik, sometimes I start talkin’ to ‘em and, uh, it’s kinda weird, I wouldn’t wanna weird you out.”

Erik looked up, reading the cemetery name. “It’s fine, Karmel. Trust me, love...Kinda convenient, right? How this cemetery is the closest to your house?”

Karmel shrugged. “I had a whole temper tantrum over it being this exact one. That way, they’d always be...close by, y’know? I could run to here from the estate real easily.”

“I assume you did that a lot?”

“Guilty.” Karmel shrugged, leading Erik into the yard. He looped around the other graves he had looped around like a billion times at that point, by a small flowerpatch and over to a big grave with a pair of names and lifespans on them. “Well...This is what it looks like.” Karmel cleared his throat, letting go of Erik’s hand. He held the bouquet he had in both hands, lips forming a line as he bent down to place it in front of the headstone.

Ezra Rosenstein and Naomi Rosenstien.

Both born in the 1900′s, Naomi being a year younger then Ezra; strangely like how Karmel’s a year younger than Erik. They- obviously- died in the same year, 1945. A year after Erik’s mom died, meaning Karmel was 13 then.

Below their names, Erik mumbled what was written. “‘In loving memory of the most amazing parents, together forever.’”

Karmel sat down in front of his mom’s name, Erik quick to sit down beside him. The two sat in silence for a moment. “Y’know, uh, funny thing,” he piped up. “After they were buried, I would constantly come crawling back to their grave, right here. I’d sit right where we are now, and every time my uncle came to take me back home, I remember begging him not to take me away from them.” Karmel started to explain, eyes darting from dark cloud to dark cloud in the night sky.

Erik listened patiently.

“’Cause I didn’t wanna leave ‘em, y’know? Before you say anything, I was like, thirteen. Shit’s pretty reasonable, a grieving kid at that age to be stubborn ‘n’ unrealistic. I really fucking believed that after they died, I couldn’t be truly happy anymore. But, uh...” Karmel turned to look at Erik. “Guess that changed, huh?”

Erik looked back over at them, lips twitching into a slight smile.

“S-Sometimes, I’d, uh, end up falling asleep on this dirt. My uncle would be sitting on that bench over there ‘n’ watch me, and when I’d fall asleep, he’d come over, pick me up ‘n’ take me back home. Sometimes in the earlier days I threw fits over him not doing what I said, but, looking back...I’d have rather a soft bed than crusty dirt above surrounded by dead people, y’know?”

Erik chuckled. “I would, too.”

Karmel pointed at his bouquet. “My parents were florists, I told you that already. They taught me what was called ‘the language of flowers.’ Like, uh, what certain flowers mean, and what certain groups mean when you put ‘em in a bouquet. In mine, you- you can see carnations, chrysanthemums, some gladioli, and orchids. These are pretty popular funeral flowers, but were some of my parents’ favourite. Red ‘n’ pink Carnations mean, like, uh, deep admiration for the deceased, and- and a sentient of remembrance. The chrysanthemums represent a well-lived life, which both of my parents definitely had.”

“What does the gladiolus mean?”

“Glad you asked. Basically, they represent a person of high moral integrity and character. Again, my ‘rents were full of it. Orchids were my moms favourite; they mean stuff like eternal love, great admiration, ‘n’ respect. Remind me to get you some, sometime.” Karmel nudged Erik, who shook his head knowingly. He reached out a hand, and pat the brown earth he watched get shoveled over his parents’ caskets all those years ago.

Erik glanced over at him.

“Hey, Dad...Hey, Mom.” Karmel mumbled, soon to grow out of the awkwardness of talking to granite in front of Erik. “It’s been a while, I’m sorry. I’ve been, uh..busy.” He shrugged, finger tracing shapes into the grass. “T’make it up, I wore your favourite tie, Dad. And- And I brought your favourite flowers- I remember what they mean, too, did you hear that part?”

Obvious silence.

“Oh, um, this- this is Erik. He’s...He’s been helping me keep stable lately.” Karmel pointed his other hand over at Erik. “He’s pretty nice to me, I guess. Could be nicer.” He teased, chuckling and putting his hands up in surrender when Erik looked over at him in fake-offence. “Erik means a lot to me. I had always been scared that you two wouldn’t have liked that, but Dad, then I found out about...what was his name, uh, Virgil. You two looked cute together, but I can see why you chose Mom. And, Mom, I saw photos of you and all those friends you had that held hands behind their backs in photos. I’m not gonna lie, it would’ve been nice to have met them. They all looked like such fun people, but then I found out what happened to all of ‘em. A simple grave visit would’ve sufficed, guys.” Karmel rambled on.

Erik remembers running into a room in Karmel’s mansion and finding him on his knees, holding a photo book. The photos, he remembered, contained a younger version of Karmel’s dad, holding hands with a black-haired man. Then he also remembers photos of Karmel’s mom surrounded by her friends, pairs of them holding hands in the photographs.

Karmel reached out to hold Erik’s hand, sniffing.

That was quicker than Erik thought. He gave Karmel’s hand a squeeze. “I’m right here, Karmel” Erik muttered warmly.

Karmel nodded sternly. “He makes me pretty happy...took me a while to come to terms with it, though, like, geez.” He exhaled through his mouth, tilting his head. “I’m glad I did, though. I thought I wouldn’t be this happy ever again, after you guys left me. But Erik...” Karmel looked at Erik once more, smiling softly.

Erik returned the tenderness by kissing Karmel’s knuckles.

Karmel giggled under his breath. “Erik gives me a sense of familiarity. Whatever you two had, I swear, we have something like it. But it’s not the same. Nothing could ever be the same as anything that has to do with you two. Even if I am wearing Dad’s ties.” He scoffed. Karmel inhaled shakily. “I miss you guys. I think of you two constantly, believe me. You don’t wanna know what I’ve done to try and do otherwise. I wish you guys could’ve lived a little longer, and see me graduate, get a job, ‘n’ fall- fall i-in love.” He stuttered, blinking rapidly.

Erik looked at the shine in Karmel’s eyes, the blond man looking down. He stroked Karmel’s hand with his thumb, reminding Karmel that he was right there if he needs him.

Karmel wiped his eyes with his free hand.”God fuck-” he mumbled weakly. Karmel closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. “Told m’self I wouldn’t cry in front of Erik, but fuck toxic masculinity, right, Dad?” He rhetorically asked. Karmel gulped thickly looking back up at the headstone. “I love Erik, a-and he wanted to come with me, to- to meet you. After everything that- that I told him, ‘bout you two, I couldn’t fucking blame him.” He forced a smile, eyebrows slightly furrowed. “I don’t...I don’t really know what else t’say.” Karmel hummed, rubbing the back of his neck. He leaned his head on Erik’s shoulder.

Erik pulled his hand away from Karmel’s, wrapping his arm around Karmel’s shoulders. “You doing alright, Kar?”

“Can we...go, now? Please?” Karmel whispered against Erik’s coat.

Erik nodded, helping Karmel up.

Karmel took a deep breath, bending over to pat the headstone. LBye, Mom, bye, Dad. We- We’ll be back soon, alright?” He raised his eyebrows, as if expectant for an answer.

Erik’s hand slid from Karmel’s shoulder to his back, rubbing it soothingly.

Karmel stood back up, looking at Erik with teary eyes. “We-We’ll come back soon, right?”

Erik cooed silently, cupping Karmel’s cheeks. He smiled lovingly, wiping Karmel’s tears with his thumbs. “We can come whenever you’d like, love. ‘Til the end of time.”

Karmel sniffled, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “Even then, you’ll still be mine.”

Erik nodded, taking Karmel’s hand in his own. The two took one last look at the grave, before he led Karmel back over to his car.

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