#I just think more movies should have men collapsing into the arms of their beloved

[go-see-a-starwar]

No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

#they were sweet okay? #when she pulls him close #I just think more movies should have men collapsing into the arms of their beloved #Kurt is very Work Song coded #hayden christensen #the last man #the last man (2019) #haydenchristensenedit #Kurt matheson #Kurt x Jessica #Liz solari #gsaswgifs #my gifs #not sw

[hauntedfalcon]

fic prompt: in the future (couple hundred years or more) Nile and Quynh (lets presume that she rejoins the team in the next movie) go to find a new immortal

"Did you dream of it, when Andy came to find me?"

Quỳnh, in the midst of the lander's pre-flight checklist, cracks a smile. "We will not be shooting anyone in the head today," she says.

"No we won't," Nile sighs. They have time to be gentle to the new one, in delivering them to this life. Things aren't quiet by any means, which is why Joe and Nicky and Booker are staying with the ship. But no one is actively hunting them down for the moment.

And Nile and Quỳnh are not Andy. They both have plenty to grieve, but they don't carry it alone out of some misplaced responsibility to protect the others.

"When she found me," Quỳnh starts. She's quiet for the countdown to uncoupling, then she tries again as the lander detaches. "When we found Yusuf and Nicolò, we had dreamed of them for years. It was like coming home. There was so much they had already accepted and worked through together. I'm sure they struggled more than I saw, but they made it look easy."

"And when she found you?" Nile says, because long ago, Quỳnh made Nile promise that she would help her face these things.

Quỳnh is silent until gravity takes hold of the lander. "I did not make anything easy for her."

Nile laughs aloud.

There are more people scattered across the solar system than there are left on Earth now, but the new one didn't die on a colony or a station. Maybe it's Earth itself that grants them this gift. Maybe their feet must be planted on the soil or the sand in order to rise again.

From the flashes in their dreams and some cross-referencing with their Terran contact, they determined that the new one is in the NT Underground. Their first death was excruciating, crushed under stone in a collapsed tunnel. And then they got right back up and kept fighting. Every time she dreams, Nile feels their fear, their confusion, their loneliness, and the force of their will.

She checks their trajectory on the screen, then cranes her neck to look out the tiny window. "It's so weird to be back here. There's more ocean than I remember."

"Yes," Quỳnh says in a faraway voice.

They put down outside Alice Springs and start making their inquiries. The locals don't warm to outsiders, and there is no one more outside than the two of them--but Quỳnh has a way of winning the trust of dangerous and frightened people.

That evening they are escorted through limestone chambers to a dim and smokey room, where a figure is surrounded by... well, the first word that comes to Nile's mind, based on body language alone, is disciples. All the other people here are oriented toward the new one, waiting for whatever they'll say next.

A freedom fighter who can't die would look an awful lot like a savior.

But whoever they were before, they were not a leader, and they haven’t had the time Nile has to grow into the role. They shrink from the deference their associates show them now. "Can you give us the room?" they ask with an attempt at authority. The others slip away quietly.

When it's just the three of them, Nile sits on the edge of a supply crate and says, "My name is Nile. This is Quỳnh. How should we call you?"

"Gotjan, for now." Their chin stays jutted, lips tight. Gotjan is plump, and richly brown as the earth, with a head of loose curls faded by sun at the ends. Maybe a handful of years older than Nile was at her first death.

"Pronouns?" Quỳnh prompts.

"She. You?"

"Same," Nile says.

"Whatever works," Quỳnh says.

For an instant it looks like Gotjan might smile, but she steels herself again. "Why have you come here?"

"To meet you," Nile says as Quỳnh takes a handheld cutter from her bag. "The dreams are how we find each other."

The cutter sparks. Quỳnh sears a line across her palm without a whimper, and holds it up as it heals.

Gotjan's eyes go wide. "Who's we?" she breathes.

"You, me, Quỳnh, and those three men you've been dreaming of, back on our ship. They're waiting for you to join us."

"Six," Gotjan says. "There are six of us?" She lets out an incredulous laugh. "Do you know what we could accomplish with six of us?"

Nile hears that we for what it is: the Underground. She knows perfectly well what six of them can accomplish.

Gently she says, "We aren't running missions on Earth, for the time being. It got a little too hot for us." They need to wait out a few overhauls of physical media, until all the records of what they did in Vancouver forty years ago pass out of memory. "But there are a lot of ways to help a cause."

"From space?" Gotjan takes a step back. "No. I'm not leaving. I lost everything--those bastards took everything from me, and I finally have a chance to do something about it."

This is something Nile expected from the conviction she felt in the dreams, though it's novel to her. When Nile was new, she had only begun to realize how much she didn't believe in what she had fought for.

She says, "Have you ever killed anyone?"

Gotjan swallows. Yeah, that's what Nile thought.

"We're not here to force you to do anything," she soothes. "If you want us to go without you, we will, and Joe and Nicky and Booker will keep dreaming of you. We'll know if you're in trouble and we'll always come back. But before you make that decision, you need to think about whether staying will do the Underground any good. If you're captured, they can kill you and kill you, and your mind will crack eventually, and that's when they'll get secrets out of you that will lead to the deaths of people you love."

She can see from the shadow that passes across Gotjan's eyes and the way she slants her face away from them that she is thinking about it.

But before Gotjan can answer, Quỳnh says, "No."

Nile gives her a vexed look, which she ignores. She always picks the most inconvenient fucking times to go off script.

"No," Quỳnh says again, "we won't leave you behind. None of us should ever be alone. If you stay, we will stay and fight beside you to whatever end. If you run from us, we will follow. You can hate us for it, but we won't be moved."

Her voice is a thread reaching back thousands of years. It raises the hairs on Nile's arms. Gotjan stares at her with a fire in her eyes. It isn't gentle, but maybe in this moment, in her solitude, it's what she needs to hear.

Quỳnh says, "You don't yet know the depth of what you have gained. Come with us and we will show you."

Nile waits for the cavern to stop ringing from Quỳnh's fervor. Then she clears her throat. "We also have an ungodly amount of money to fund the Underground in your absence."

All the way up out of the gravity well, Gotjan has questions. They do their best to answer them.

Nile watches her face when the lander pivots to reattach to the ship, and Earth is visible once more through the window. There is an ache in Gotjan's dark eyes. It's the barest she's allowed herself to be in their presence.

"I never planned to leave," she whispers. "I know the work is better up here, but... that's our land."

"That is a connection you will always have," Quỳnh promises her.

A freedom fighter who can't die and who leaves to live in the sky will, in another century or so, look an awful lot like a folk hero.

"How long are you staying off Earth?"

Nile says, "Two, maybe three more generations."

"Generations," Gotjan echoes. "What are you, twenty?"

The Freeman babyface strikes again. "I'm four hundred and twelve," Nile says lightly. "Next Thursday."

"The fuck," Gotjan says, turning to stare at her. "When do you stop keeping track?"

"About five centuries ago," Quỳnh supplies.

Gotjan lifts her head to look at Quỳnh, but she doesn't ask the logical next question. Not yet, anyway.

The Andromache's docking clamps embrace the lander. Nile leads the way through her beloved corridors, moving slower than usual so Gotjan can get used to the magnetic boots.

Nile hears them while she's still outside the galley, cursing in Italian and French, with a frantic he didn't mean it for spice.

She stops at the door and glances at Quỳnh, on the other side of Gotjan. The oldest, and the newest. Quỳnh gives her a tiny, prized smile.

"Gentlemen," Nile says as the door slides open, and a trio of anything but gentlemen straighten up from a pantomime brawl as dinner bubbles in the cooker. Some things never change.

And some things do. Nile says, "This is Gotjan."

#The Old Guard prompts for ts #Nile Freeman #Quynh #an attempt was made at an OFC!

[intercoursefluids]

The Impromptu Sleepover Part 2 (Final)

One day. All she asked for was one normal day. Sounds reasonable, doesn’t it? A single completely average day is not too much to ask for.

Unless of course, you are Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Then it’s impossible.

People around Marinette start crying as Scarecrow walks into the room, mothers hiding their children behind them as everyone holds onto each other, scared of what’s to come.

Marinette shudders at the pure animosity radiating from the man-turned monster.

Adrien, ever the faithful friend, mistakes the slight shake as fear and shifts so he covers her from the villain’s view.

Everything is quiet before Scarecrow starts on his evil monolog (not that anyone cares).

Tuning him out Marinette looks around, trying to come up with a plan to get everyone out before a shrill scream and crying fill the air causing her to snap back around.

Some of Scarecrow’s goons are holding a woman back as a small boy is dragged up to the monster himself.

Grabbing the boys are he holds the trembling child painfully tight before reaching behind him and pulling out a canister.

Seeing as how Marinette planned this whole trip she made sure to know all about the local heroes and villains.

And the knowledge of what that bastard was going to do to that poor kid squashed any sense of self-preservation Marinette had.

Rushing forward she manages to make it past the few armed men standing between her and Scarecrow and rips the kid away from him just to get blasted in the face by the fear-toxin.

Ringing fills her ears as she collapses to the ground, voices shouting from the corners of her mind.

All of them shouting how they failed her, she should have done better. That she never should have been chosen.

One voice rings out crystal clear amongst all of the other roaring voices.

You said you would save me, M’lady. I should have known better than to trust someone like you. After all, you aren’t even worth the Ladybug miraculous. I have to say, I’m disappointed in you Bugaboo.

Her head jerks up at her partner’s voice, tears streaming from her eyes as she comes face to face with someone she never wanted to see again.

Chat Blanc.

Voices surround her as explosions sound in the distance. Her parents, her friends, everyone. All screaming at how she failed them, how she should have stopped when she had the chance.

Children’s cries fill the air around her, only these are different. They don’t echo from within her head, instead, they come from around her, slowly grounding her. Reminding her that this is just some monster’s trick.

The fear is still there, prominent as ever, but now her focus is on getting everyone out. She hasn’t failed yet.

Slowly uncurling from the ball she had formed she looks around. Forcing herself to see past the bloodied faces of people she failed to save.

All around her everyone is still the same, the hostages in the same places, same as the gunmen (even if they look smug at her suffering).

The only one missing is Scarecrow himself, and turning ever so slowly to face Chat Blanc her fears are confirmed.

In Scarecrows place stands her beloved kitty.

Pure unadulterated rage fills her as he dares wear her kitten’s face.

Lunging at Chat Blanc she hears the startled screams as she attacks him before the rushing in her ears takes over, leaving her deaf to the sound of shattering glass as the heroes arrive on the scene.

Having the advantage of surprise on her side she manages to pin him fairly easily tying his arms behind his back with her visitors’ pass before spinning around to help take down the rest.

An arm wraps around her, trapping her arms to her side as she struggles, a hand coming up to cover her eyes as she tries to getaway.

Quiet shushing and words of reassurance reach her ears causing her struggling to slow.

“W-who are you?”

Marinette winces at the tremor in her voice as she takes stalk of her surroundings.

Her head is tucked under their chin as their surprisingly strong arms hold her in place, one hand still firmly over her eyes.

“My name is Damian. I’m trying to help keep you calm until they can get you the anti-serum.”

She chuckles even as she shakes in his hold.

“It’s not normally a good idea to grab a girl from behind if you want her to calm down.”

He tenses slightly.

“Right, I didn’t think that through. Most people see what they are most afraid of so I thought if I took that away it would help you calm down.”

Marinette doesn’t reply for a while, opting to try and match his breathing instead of replying. All the while subconsciously leaning more against him.

“It’s working I’ll admit, you just went about it horribly. Can we sit down? I feel like my legs are about to give out.”

She feels him loosen his hold and fumble with something behind her before the hand over her eyes is replaced with a piece of cloth. He takes her hand leading her over to a wall before sitting and pulling her with him, tucking her into his side and draping something over her shoulders as her shaking picks up again.

“I’m sorry, can you tell me about yourself? It’ll help me keep my mind off of the panic.”

She feels him nod shifting again so she's leaning more against his chest.

“I have 3 older brothers. Richard, but everyone calls him Dick, Jason, and Tim. I lived with my mother until I was 10 so I’ve only known them for 6 years. They are all adopted but I don’t think anyone even remembers that half the time.”

Marinette can’t help the soft smile that takes over her face as she wraps her arm around him (why is he so warm???).

“You sound like you love them.”

He scoffs.

“Not in a million years, they’re annoying. Grayson is overly dramatic and a hopeless romantic, Todd is a trigger-happy hothead, and Drake is an insomniac, workaholic with a caffeine addiction.”

Marinette can’t help but giggle, her overwhelming fear slowly receding enough for her to think.

“They may be ‘annoying’ but they’re your family, I can tell you care about them.”

Damian makes an offended noise even as he wraps his arm around her rubbing her arm up and down.

“The only person in our family that I actually like is Alfred, he’s our grandfather and the only reason any of us are still alive, but, I guess they aren’t as bad as they used to be. Not that I'll ever admit that to them. Their egos are big enough as is.”

Marinette is about to respond when another voice cuts her off, causing her to cling to Damian as her heart rate picks back up frantically.

“Too late, I brought the anti-serum for your frie- Hey is she okay?”

Damian pulls her into his lap, rubbing her back even as he scolds the other person.

“She’s still being affected by the fear-gas dipshit! I just got her to calm down again, give me that!”

One of his arms leaves her body as he reaches away from her, he starts whispering to her again as something pricks her upper right arm.

It only takes a minute for the anti-toxin to work, causing Marinette to sag in relief against Damian as he keeps his arms around her.

“Seriously Todd! You should have known better than to startle someone like that!”

Marinette takes deep breaths of air, slightly surprised by the smell of Damian’s cologne before realizing she has her arms wrapped around his neck and her face buried in his shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re right. My bad demon-spawn.”

Damian scoffs adjusting Marinette in his arms so he can sit up instead of leaning against the wall.

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to, nitwit!”

Marinette sits up slightly kissing Damian’s cheek as she takes the makeshift blindfold off before returning to her earlier position.

“Thank you, Damian. You didn’t have to help me, much less stay with me and calm me down. You’re really sweet, you know that?”

His arms tense around her before cackling fills the air.

“Demon-spawn? Sweet?! I don’t know who you’re calling sweet but it’s most definitely not my little brother.”

Damian groans as ‘Todd’ keeps laughing, instead directing his attention to Marinette.

“Do you think you’re okay to walk? The cops will probably want to take a statement.”

She nods and they slowly rise, Damian, supporting her the whole time. Once she is finally standing up straight she turns to look at the boy who helped before coming face to face with the greenest eyes she’s ever seen.

Her breath catches in her throat as she meets his electric emerald eyes for the first time since they met.

They stand there, in complete silence before a camera flash breaks through their quiet bubble.

Turning towards Todd, Marinette studies his features.

Pale skin, blue eyes, and black hair with a tuffet of white at the front.

“What do you think you are doing,Jason?”

Todd now dubbed ‘Jason’ grins stepping away from his brother.

“Ooh, the first name. You only use that when you’re pissed. And I’m sending this to the group chat, no one will believe me if I say that you were civil with another human being!”

Damian glares.

“You have ten seconds to run, Todd.”

Jason wastes no time running away as quickly as humanly possible.

Damian goes to follow him but stops when Marinette grabs his arm.

“Help me over to the officers? I’m still a little shaky.”

His sharp glare softens as he leads her over to give her statement.

10 minutes later, they are both sitting on a bench waiting for the police to finish getting statements from the rest of the hostages and for the armored truck that will transport Scarecrow to arrive.

“One time when I was 11, Todd and Drake decided it would be a good idea to kidnap my turkey Jerry and hide him away after buying a raw turkey and cooking it for dinner. They said they found it wandering around outside and decided it would be a good idea to cook it.”

Damian shakes his head in fond exasperation.

“That is the closest I had ever come to crying in front of my brothers. I ended up running and telling Grayson what they did and he got so mad. They ended up fessing up that it was just a prank and they didn’t mean to actually make me upset. They ended up going out and buying a bunch of junk food and pizza before we had one big movie night together.”

“We all ended up falling asleep in the living room all piled on top of each other. Father was so surprised when he came home and he didn’t even send us to bed. He got changed and joined us in the living room. We all ended up sleeping in a giant pile on the floor that night while Alfred took the couch.”

Marinette smiles up at Damian, he had been telling her about himself ever since she had asked him to and she honestly enjoyed it.

“They sound wonderful Damian. Hey, when do you think they are going to-.”

“Mari!”

Marinette is cut off by one of her favorite blondes as he latches onto her body.

“When you rushed forward I tried to follow you and ended up getting hit with the gas and had a panic attack, and then when they gave me the serum I couldn’t find you and had another panic attack, and they couldn’t calm me down for a while and then they had to take my statement but I still couldn’t find you and I’ve been freaking out the whole time. What the hell were you thinking? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!”

By the time Adrien finally stops rambling his head is in Marinette’s lap and his arms are wrapped around her waist.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, but you shouldn’t have even followed me, that was dangerous and stupid and your dad would destroy me if anything happened to you.”

Adrien snorts.

“If you don’t want me to follow you then don’t take off running.”

Marinette groans, not acknowledging the fact that she is still leaning against Damian.

“Adrien, you are far too ride or die for your own good.”

Adrien sighs, leaning back to look at his best friend.

“Yeah well, Chloe is probably gonna kill us both if we don’t get back to the hotel soon. She heard what happened and has been blowing up my phone since I came to. Ms. Bustier won’t let her leave though.”

“We are so dead. She’s going to actually kill me this time. Damian? Would you like an invite to my funeral? You’ll need a tux.”

Before Damian can even try to respond Adrien cuts him off.

“Oh! There's another person here… Who saw me acting dramatic…. Oh no.”

Adrien's pale face contrasts brightly with Marinette’s, which is bright red from restraining her laughter.

“Okay, okay this is fine. It’s fine. We have two options here, A: We kill you so you can’t spill our secrets or B: You become our friend and are kept under surveillance.”

Damian raises an eyebrow at him not even bothering to acknowledge how dramatic he is still being.

“No.”

Marinette finally breaks, cackling like a witch she rips a piece of paper from her ever present sketchbook and writes her number down.

“Here, this is my number in case you want to stay in contact. Come on Adrien, Chloe is going to kill us.”

She grabs Adriens arm and starts to run, ignoring his protests of ‘He knows too much to be left alive!’ in favor of trying to make it back to the hotel with her other favorite blonde.

She didn’t see the soft smile Damian sent her way as he puts her number in his phone…

But Jason did, and soon will ever other wayne if the video he sent to the family group chat had anything to say about it.

#daminette #I don't now how to tag #marinette x batfam

[delicioussshame]

*Insert disgusted sound effect here* Here’s a new part.

Luo Binghe is starting to get anxious.

The sixth day of their cohabitation is about to end, and Laoshi is only starting to look better. Sleep and decent food did wonders for him, but he’s still too slim. It’s to be expected, of course. Years of deprivation and stress don’t fade away that easily, but as long as Shen-laoshi remains here, he’ll get better. Luo Binghe will make it so.

Shen-laoshi likes being here, too. Luo Binghe can tell. They had always gotten along famously. From the very beginning, Shen-laoshi had been kind, granting him the attention he so craved without reserve. Their exchanges had always been fun and informative, tinted with affection.

They still are. Luo Binghe has seen no sign of Shen-laoshi hiding boredom or discomfort when they chatted aimlessly, or watched a movie, or took a walk together. He bets Shen-laoshi has missed regular human contact as much as Luo Binghe had missed him. He doesn’t want to go, Luo Binghe is sure of it.

But will he admit it?

It’s all he would have to do. If he said he wanted to stay, Luo Binghe would keep him here forever.

He might not. Shen-laoshi has always had pride and, above all, decency. Tomorrow, he might pack his bag, thank Luo Binghe for all he did and return to that hovel he called an apartment, unwilling to intrude on his benefactor any longer. It is what they had agreed for, after all.

Luo Binghe can’t let him go, but he can’t trap him here either. Shen-laoshi would resent him if Luo Binghe tried, and he’s not sure he could survive his teacher’s enmity.

He tried to offer all he could without overwhelming the other half of his soul, but he can only do so much when Shen-laoshi is so demure.

Still, the idea that at the same time tomorrow, Shen-laoshi might not be resting in bed beside him is intolerable.

Shen-laoshi is right here, isn’t he? If he’s going to leave tomorrow, why not at least request what Luo Binghe has implied he would ask for?

He bites his lips, trying to keep his mind on track. If that backfired on him, it might push Shen-laoshi away, never to come back.

Then again, Luo Binghe is almost certain that if he managed to get Shen-laoshi to drop his defenses long enough for him to touch him as he’d been dreaming of since he was fifteen and dazzled by the discovery of his true love, he could convince him that intimacy was nothing to be afraid of. He might even be able to seduce him into allowing repeat performances, turning their parody of courtship into something so close to reality it might as well be it.

But if he leaves tomorrow, it’s all for naught.

Luo Binghe almost flinches when he feels Shen-laoshi’s hand under his, warm from the blankets. He hadn’t even realised that in his desperation, he had reached for the one he longed for, both so near and yet so inaccessible.

He stops breathing when fingers curl between his. He hasn’t dared this much before, but if Shen-laoshi isn’t pushing him away… “Laoshi?”

Shen-laoshi is turned away from him, but he doesn’t take his hand back. “…Yes?”

“Please stay. If you’re missing anything, anything at all, say the word and I’ll arrange for it, so long as you’re still here to welcome me back when I come home.” What does he have to lose at this point? He might as well ask. Shen-laoshi has always been weak to his requests.

Shen-laoshi sighs. “Binghe has already offered everything I might need. Does he understand how confusing this all is for me? Binghe shows up in my office, all righteous anger and… adult demands. Then he doesn’t act on it, and ends up begging like a child for his old teacher not to leave. The last thing I’d want is to hurt him, but I have no idea how to react. Does Binghe even know what he wants from me?”

Luo Binghe knows. He can barely remember life before he found his true purpose. He’s just not sure Shen-laoshi is ready to face his honesty just yet. Then again, maybe he doesn’t really have a choice anymore. His preferred scenarios haven’t unfolded; Shen-laoshi hadn’t been overwhelmed by lust for him, and neither had he confessed that he knew their relationship ran deeper than that of a teacher and his student’s, even his favorite one. He hasn’t even taken advantage of what Luo Binghe had been more than willing to pay for, surrounding himself in luxury until returning to his apartment would have been too unappealing to contemplate. Instead, he did as Luo Binghe asked him: he considered his time here as a vacation, nice but bound to end, leaving nothing but memories behind.

Maybe Luo Binghe was a fool, to expect his beloved Shen-laoshi to understand his real motivations. “I do. I just want Shen-laoshi. In my bed, of course, but also in my house, by my side, talking to me, waking him with me, as my date at corporate events, anytime.” As my husband and mine alone. “I want him to be healthy and happy, now. Not in months of him slowly warming up to my advances, not after he started another year of work that will grind him down to dust, not after he finally collapses under too much weight. For that goal, I’m willing to sacrifice propriety, and to push him forward faster than he might like. I’m sure he’ll thank me for it later.” For good measure, he tightens his hold on Shen-laoshi’s hand.

Shen-laoshi turns toward him, incredulity on his face. “Binghe, what? You’re a young man, and we all know young men have done stupid things when they’ve let their hormones lead them, but that’s just ridiculous. Even if you think you had… a crush on me when you were a child, you should have outgrown that years ago.”

Please. Luo Binghe’s affection for his teacher isn’t a dumb crush. No one outgrows true love. “If Laoshi thinks I’m just confused, then he should stay here until I realise that. If he leaves, I’ll always pine for what could have been.” There. Nice and simple.

“But… Binghe…”

“Stay. For yourself, if not for me. You like being here. I like having you here. Why deprive yourself of what has been freely offered? That wouldn’t be logical.” And because he cannot really reveal himself more than he already has, he lifts his other hand to Shen-laoshi’s cheek. “Or maybe Laoshi would allow me to prove how I care for him in other ways?”

As expected, Shen-laoshi flushes. Luo Binghe can feel its heat under his fingers. “Please?” He crawls closer, unable to stop himself.

“Binghe…”

Luo Binghe is now close enough he can feel Shen Yuan breathing on his face. “Let me?”

“I… Just this once.”

Luo Binghe nods, too uncertain to speak. This time, when he presses his lips to his teacher’s, he does so tenderly, reining in hid desire as much as possible.

Shen-laoshi doesn’t resist. He opens up slowly, warily, to Luo Binghe.

No matter how giggly he is inside, he can let none of it show. Instead, he presses himself to Shen-laoshi, cradles his face as he keeps kissing him without urgency, until he can feel some of the tension leaving his teacher’s body.

He pushes back as far as he can stomach, a few centimeters. “Laoshi is doing well?”

“Don’t call me that now! How is that proper!”

Luo Binghe grins. If that is his first priority, he’s not too shocked. “May Shen Yuan forgives me, then. What does he want in apology? I can suggest a few things.”

“Binghe!”

Why is Shen-laoshi’s consternation so endearing? For a moment, Luo Binghe wants to do something even more outrageous just to keep that look on his face.

Instead, he kisses him again.

It does get Shen-laoshi to calm down a bit. “Well? How did Shen Yuan enjoy it? Does he believe me now? Or does he need more convincing?” As if the way he’d slipped under his shirt left any doubt about his intentions.

Shen-laoshi twists away under his touch.

Luo Binghe could groan, but he diligently takes his hand back. The way things had been going, he really thought he had a chance.

Instead, he wraps an arm around Shen-laoshi’s waist and plasters himself to him. Hopefully Shen-laoshi will gracefully ignore what should be ignored. “Can I at least hold him to sleep? This close, I might be able to protect your dreams.”

Shen-laoshi loses some of his earlier relaxation, but he doesn’t try to escape. “Were my teachings bad, for this student of mine to think he could do such a thing?”

Shen-laoshi’s lack of refusal is enough to fill him with joy. “I do know for a fact that Shen Yuan’s presence is enough to ensure my dreams will be sweet, so why couldn’t the opposite also be true?”

Luo Binghe closes his eyes to ward himself from the sight that is Shen-laoshi’s renewed embarrassment. If he starts things up again, he won’t be able to stop himself this time. The last thing he wants is for Shen-laoshi to take his implicit approval back.

But still, he hasn’t heard what he most wants to hear yet. “So Shen-laoshi will stay, right?” He makes sure to accompany his request with the widest, wettest, most pleading eyes he can manage.

He hides his mirth when Shen Yuan visibly flinches. “Ah… Binghe, I’m still not sure I should.”

Luo Binghe forges on. “But he will?”

Long, heavy silence, before a sigh. “As long as Binghe is good.”

“I’m always good for Laoshi.” He could be so much better, too, if Shen Yuan let him.

Luo Binghe thrills when Shen-laoshi’s light slap fades into what is almost a caress, as he settles a strand of Luo Binghe’s abundant hair back into place. “Liar.”

Luo Binghe doesn’t deny it.

#The Scum Villain Self Serving System #Scum Villain #BingQiu #That AU where LBH and SY fail to negociate their sugar relationship

[op-peccatori]

The MLQC Boys and Sleeping/Bedtime Habits (nsfw-ish)

more ‘quick thoughts’ lmao...I can go on and on when it comes to these men. Literally had to step away from the keyboard.

Rating: Mature

Tags/Warnings: mentions of/implies sexy times but nothing too explicit, this wasn’t meant to be so long wtf, unedited atm

song of the moment: little things by one direction 

Kiro: 

Most open to being the little spoon! Although he likes curling around you, likes to feel like he can protect you from anything, he also enjoys feeling your arms curled around him. You’re the treasure, and he’s the dragon guarding his hoard. Under his bright exterior is a fierce love, resolute and undying, which most people will never get to see.

This is something he’s told you before, and he hopes he’s done a good job conveying it—to him, you’re home. Climbing into bed with you after a long day is the only good way to end that day. He loves singing to you, whether it’s a soft ballad or a completely made up silly song. You can’t count on hand the number of times you’ve giggled over the songs you two have created, silly whispers in the dark, fingers stroking warm skin. Some nights are quiet, with your bodies doing the talking, pressing your love into each other’s skin, smiling into soft kisses. It’s like basking in your own personal sunshine, the warmth seeping into your very bones, leaving you with only hope and the belief that everything will be okay.

He’s your partner in crime. Midnight snacking, gaming and dance parties until you collapse. 

Nights spent away from you are spent video calling you, singing to you onscreen, showing you any new foods he’s tried. He tries to keep days away from you at a minimum, and though he tries really hard to control that feeling of sullenness and unease when he’s not with you, the fact of the matter is that his day is just incomplete if he doesn’t get to talk to you or see your face. 

It’s not surprising to wake up with his face buried in your stomach, or with his leg curled over you. Kiro truly treats you like his own beloved stuffed toy, and you can’t help but melt in his warm embrace as you both watch a movie. Neither of you is very good with horror movies, but watching them together as you cuddle in fear is better. You’re always stronger together, after all. Both of you have a hard time going to sleep after, choosing to play games to distract yourselves. 

However, if you do happen to be good with horror, prepare yourself for an armful of Kiro, and to be the big spoon that night. 

Lucien: 

He doesn’t glue himself to you. Sometimes, he’s content to face you and watch you drift into sleep, or run his fingers through your hair until you sleepily cuddle closer to him. You grow bolder with your requests for him to read to you, his voice always soothing your stressed-out mind; nothing delights him more than seeing you inch closer to him even in your sleep, although he’s aware that it’s probably just due to his body heat. 

He’s a movie buff, and you love listening to his interpretations of the plots, and the dialogue. He’s not a snob about his choices, he’ll watch anything. He does enjoy watching the LOTR movies, which never fail to–eventually–put you to sleep no matter how big a fan you are. 

If he does fall asleep next to you, you might wake up with his hand still tangled in your hair, or laced with yours. Just a little contact with you feels grounding to him. It’s enough to calm the raging waters beneath his skin, to fill him with contentment. You love waking him up with butterfly kisses, because you know what he’ll do, and you pretend to be surprised every single time–when his lips curl up a little before his eyes have even opened, and sneaky fingers wrap around your waist so he can give you a proper good morning kiss. 

You’ve been embarrassed about him watching you sleep quite often, but he doesn’t know how to explain it to you–how human it makes him feel. When it’s just you two in bed, he’s just a man in bed with the love of his life. He doesn’t remember ever having someone let their guard down around him so fully, and sleep without a care in the world. Every incoherent word you mumble, every little twitch, it’s seared into his memory. It actually makes him want to try harder and actually sleep, to join you in that other mystical world. 

For the longest time, he looked forward to waking up next to you, just to see what he’ll wake up to. Will you be hanging off the edge of the bed? Will your face be burrowed into his armpit? It’s all very exciting for him, even if it makes little sense. For someone who’s delved into things most people can’t possibly comprehend, these are such tiny things. But they mean the world to him, and he could spend the rest of his life noting them down in his head. 

Lucien craves intimacy, so badly that he has to rein it in, lest he scares you away. Especially when you both give into your desires and he loses himself in your skin–it shows in his eyes. You’re rendered speechless when you lock eyes with him, feeling so completely exposed as if he’s peering into your very soul. And he feels the same, because his eyes are where his emotions exhibit themselves, but only to you. It’s like looking into an unexplored yet inviting abyss, terrifying yet exhilarating, with promises of discovering things about yourself you couldn’t have even imagined. 

Initially, it’s always Lucien who’s pulling you into his arms, taking over, sheltering you. When you finally convince him to place his head on your lap, carding your fingers through his hair, it’s as if he’s discovered something new. He enjoys pressing his face into your stomach during afternoon naps, shedding his armour and weapons for a brief respite. He feels like he could shatter into a million little pieces when you trace his features with curious fingertips until you’ve had your fill, which is never. He doesn’t quite know how to cope with the fact that you’re just as crazy about him as he is about you. On the surface, he’s thrilled. But with Lucien, you need to look deeper, and you’ll see the disbelief, the terror, the possessiveness, the vulnerability that comes with loving someone so deeply.

Once he’s had a taste, Lucien will do everything in his power to spend every night with you. He loathes sleeping alone, in a cold bed, and only feels better when he receives a selfie of you wrapped up in his shirt. If you just happen to give him a glimpse of bare skin, revealing the lack of clothing underneath, he’s calling you right away. He loves instructing you over the phone and receiving your own breathless demands. He loves hearing your breath even out as you fall asleep after, finally settling his heart down. 

Gavin:

The first time you fell asleep next to Gavin, he couldn’t fall asleep the entire night. His nerves were on fire, and he was so afraid of making the slightest of movements and waking you up. It took a while for him to lift his eyes to your face. He felt a little guilty about it, but he couldn’t look away. You looked so beautiful even in your sleep, and it robbed him of all tiredness. He isn’t used to sleeping next to someone. This isn’t about taking charge and looking out for you. This is about relaxing. 

He jolts if you mumble anything in your sleep, straining his ears to catch the words. Gavin takes time to really get used to you sleeping in his bed. The girl of his dreams (teenage and adult) tossing an arm over him, nuzzling his chest. The first few times, it’s a shame you’re not awake to witness the way he smiles. An arm thrown over his face to hide his burning cheeks, but it doesn’t help with the happiness swelling in his heart. He feels incredibly full with it. 

Despite his shy smiles, romance comes to him rather easily. He doesn’t even realise it but he makes you feel so loved with just a few simple actions, you only wish he could accept the same from you. You have to bulldoze past his protests that ‘he’s fine’, massaging his sore feet or back–you get your reward in his snores, in his relaxed limbs, in the automatic way he pulls you into him when you settle next to him. 

He loves hearing about your day. You can go on and on, thinking he’s probably tuned out, but he’s paying attention to every word that comes out of your mouth. Slowly, he starts sharing what he can of his days too. At first, he tries to hide the dangerous things, but when you insist on it, he shares–with as little detail as possible. It’s an important step for him, learning to share his troubles, his needs, his desires. He’s never been one for naps, but can’t help it when you curl into him. You feel so incredibly loved, nearly worshipped, and you’re warm with it. What you have to do is show him how important he is. Hold him close, tell him as many times as it takes (even if it’s forever) that he is loved, that he’s in your heart. Be there for him as he heals, as he comes to accept his own value. All he needs is for you to love him.

He doesn’t know how to ask for sex, afraid of pushing your boundaries or pressuring you. The day he slips a hand below your shirt, stroking soft skin, you nearly derail the attempt by beaming at him in absolute joy. It’s fixed by curling your leg over his hip and your slipping fingers into his hair, showing him how much you like it. 

He doesn’t watch TV. But watching something with you, watching you react to whatever’s going on is amusing. To your delight, he does end up liking Brooklyn Nine-Nine quite a bit. It’s fascinating to watch him laugh softly, amber eyes shining with mirth–until he notices you staring and blushes. Tell him how cute he looks when he’s embarrassed and he might stop breathing. 

Victor: 

It might take you both a while to really settle into this intimate space. Victor is such a private man, and his bed is the deepest part of his fortress–he has his own sleeping habits, and you’re not sure if you should press. You’re not sure if he likes his space in bed. At the time same, Victor is agonising over whether or not it’s okay to just pull you close and bury his head in your fair. He does eventually notice you inching closer, waiting for him to react, until there’s barely a few inches between you. A whisper from you about the cold will have him suppressing a smile as he winds an arm around you. 

It doesn’t matter if the temperature in the room is actually perfect–he keeps you close. When he wakes up in the morning to find himself curled around you, his front to your back, he decides that from now on, this is how it’s going to be. He loves spooning you but will never admit it, always feigning ignorance when you wake up with a snuggly Victor, even though you had gone to sleep in completely different positions. 

He’s a man of action, of never wasting time, but Victor can actually spend the entire day in bed with you, doing absolutely nothing. It’s so cosy he has a hard time leaving the little nest. You’ve spent countless Sundays wrapped in blankets, blowing on hot cocoa, watching the cheesiest rom coms you can find. Victor likes movies with intelligent plots, but what made you fall a little harder for him was discovering all the rom coms suggested for him. He refused to comment on it, scoffed when you said you wanted to watch something romantic but you will never forget the sight of a misty-eyed Victor refusing to look at you after an emotional scene. 

His expression when you said you wanted to watch The Time Traveller’s Wife had been priceless. 

He has a strict diet and routine, but with your corrupting and persuasive ways, you do manage to talk him into midnight snacking–occasionally. He loves arguing with you over characters’ actions and thought processes, always interested in knowing what you would do in their place. He thinks you look cute when you’re riled up, but isn’t as prepared for the high of emotions that usually ends with his leg slipping between your thighs as your tongue slips into his mouth. 

He teases you about snoring, smirking wickedly when you turn flush and flail. What you will never know is how softly he smiles when he hears you snore, amused more than anything as he tugs you closer and you press your face into his neck. Sometimes, you mumble things about food. Even though you won’t remember it, he cooks it for you the next day. It’s his own little way of fulfilling wishes you’re not even aware of. 

Please cuddle with him. He doesn’t know how to initiate it other than just taking you into his arms. Hold him close, kiss his hair, tease him. Climb onto his lap or pull him onto yours. Learn to read his face and body, because there’s so much he doesn’t know how to say. 

He’s always believed naps are a waste of time but it’s also never stopped him from indulging. With you, he’ll still complain–even as he loosens his tie and plops down, looking up at you expectantly, and holds on tighter when it’s time to get up. Falling asleep with Victor feels like stepping into the ice fortress, only to find unbelievable warmth and safety inside. You never want to leave.

He feels a little pathetic when he’s away from you, feeling dejected and cold in his silent hotel room. Thoughts he’ll never voice out loud spring up, dramatic in their very nature. It’s awful, he thinks, being on his own. Are you thinking about him? Is it too early for a bedtime call? Is he being too needy? He’s not very good at sending pictures or video calling, and he resorts to excuses when he calls even though he just wanted to hear your voice. If you tell him you miss him, he’ll melt instantly. Keep talking, even if he’s not listening to every word, the sound of your voice is enough to bring him warmth. You can hear his sleepy responses to your words, but you know there’s no point in asking if he wants to go sleep–he won’t want to hang up until you’re both asleep. 

#mlqc #mlqc headcanons #mlqc victor #mlqc lucien #mlqc gavin #mlqc kiro #mr love queen's choice #mlqc fanfic #mr love: queen's choice

[lokislytherin]

euphoria // vampire!jungkook

pairing: vampire!jeon jeongguk x human!reader summary: you’re scared of vampires - until one saves your life one night. word count: 1988 +  a/n: here’s to @jungkooksbish​ ! happy birthday ily 💜💜💜

chapters: prologue / chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / epilogue

It’s a dark and gloomy night, but you walk alone down the silent streets.

There’s not a soul in sight, save the crescent moon hanging in the sky, your only companion.  Night has fallen and it’s getting late, and your friends are all gone, having just realized you’ve all lost track of time.  In your haste to return to the little apartment you call home, you’ve (quite unwisely, now that you think of it) decided to take a shortcut down one the spookier alleys.  You know for certain it’ll take you home – you’ve walked it countless times during the day.  But this time is different, and as you walk along, you’re starting to seriously regret your decision.  You never know about the creatures that thrive in the dark, after all.

You’ve been warned about them before, by the lucky few who have survived their encounters to tell the tale.  Everybody knows to be wary of the supernatural nightlife, knows to lower their voices when they speak around the metaphorical campfire.  You know about most of them: the witches, who escaped a fiery death at the stake long ago and now live among mankind, running amok with their magic; the werewolves, who live at the mercy of the wax and wane of the moon, at best a little worse than a man and at worst a little better than a beast; the shifters, who are experts at hiding in society, the apparent lesser of the evils.  

Of course, you can’t forget about the most dangerous ones of them all: the vampires, soulless undead who lured their victims to their doom with their unnatural beauty, who fed not on ordinary food and water, but preyed on other creatures, preferring to drink the blood of humans who live and breathe as you do.  You don’t think you’ve ever encountered any of them before, and you hope that you’re lucky enough never to.

But of course, as fate will have it, luck is not your friend. stomp. Your eyes widen, and you can’t help but suck in a breath.  Peeking over your shoulder, you see nothing but the shadows beside you.  It’s deathly silent out there.  Calm down, Y/N, you tell yourself firmly, it was probably just a monster rat.  If it attacks you, just whack it with all you’ve got.  You’re still spooked, and you walk a little faster, hold your phone a little tighter.  The battery is low, but you know that 1% you’ve got will last you long enough to get to safety.  Having a mere semblance of comfort is better than nothing at all. STOMP. You whip around, suspicious.  You’re certain you just heard footsteps.  But once again, there’s nothing to be seen but the lonely lunar light.  The peacefulness of the night should put you at ease, but today it just seems eerie.  You rub your eyes with a scowl, careful not to move your contacts.  You’re probably just hallucinating due to sleep deprivation.

It’s too quiet – A sweaty hand grips onto your bare arm, and you yell at the top of your arms.  You know you’re loud enough to be heard by any source of help – the singer’s lungs you’ve trained so hard to achieve aren’t for nothing.  You try to shake off the disgusting hand, but your efforts prove fruitless: attached to the hand is a leering middle-aged man, whose breath reeks of alcohol and cigarette smoke.  "Hey, pretty girl," he sneers as he paws drunkenly at your body.  "I'll show you a good time." Disgusting.

He’s not one of them, as you’d originally feared, but he’s dangerous all the same, especially when he’s drunk (but sober enough to be a pervert) and you have your, uh, assets.  In the daylight, men would only dare catcall, whistling (c)rudely at your body. You crack your knuckles.  Ideally, you’d avoid a fight, or any kind of violence, but at times like this you don’t really have much of a choice, do you? It’s probably time you practice your kickboxing skills anyway.  Your kicking might be rusty, but you can still throw a mean right hook.

Deciding to take a page out of your trigger-happy friend’s book, you twist and punch the sleazebag in the face.  He shrieks as your fist smacks squarely into his nose, which makes a sickening crack.  He stumbles back, clutching his face, looking almost insulted at how you even dare to punch him.  Blood drips from between his fingers.  He deserves a good punch, the misogynistic jerk.  You walk off: he’s not worth any more of your time. "Hey! Come back here!" He howls as he gives chase, enraged.  His boots clomp heavily behind you, a dead giveaway.  He’s not sober in the least, and you can hear him grunt as he stumbles and falls.  His drunkenness should slow him down enough for you to make a quick getaway, but you’re wearing your favorite pumps, and cute as they are, they won’t let you run as fast as you’d like either.  "You sick little bi-"

His shouts are cut off abruptly. Did somebody happen to hear your cry for help and decide to lend a hand? Did the old pervert finally collapse in a drunken stupor? You’re not sure if you want to know what happened to the crazy stalker, but terrified curiosity gets the better of you.  Turning around, you regret yelling that Libras die first every time you watch a horror film with your friends – if this was a scene from a horror movie, you’d die first, and you’re Gemini. Good going, Y/N.  You’re going to die.

The sight that greets you makes you stumble and gag.  The man’s eyes are wide with terror, mouth open in a soundless scream.  Even worse, blood oozes out from two clean puncture wounds on his neck.  Behind him is a young man, looking not much older than you are.  He winks at you flirtatiously, grinning and flashing pearly white fangs that look far too real to be a product of your imagination.

Vampire. "Help me!" The old pervert wheezes.  You stumble back, bile rising in your throat. Your heartbeat accelerates, and your frantic attempts to slow it down only makes your heart beat faster.  The vampire can probably hear your heartbeat, smell your fear.  You can almost taste the metallic tang of blood on your tongue, a trail of dark red illuminated by the flickering streetlights.  You smell it before it happens – the rancid odor of death wafts in the air, and the vampire cheerfully snaps the old man’s neck.

His head lolls backwards. The young man grins at you, eyeing you in a way that looks less hungry and more curious.  He may be a vampire and a killer, but at least he’s not a pervert and a creep like that other guy, the more optimistic side of your mind suggests.  A pink tongue darts out of his mouth, licking his lips clean of blood.  His fangs gleam in the dark.  One of them is a little chipped.  "You’re welcome, by the way." Not gonna lie, that was kind of hot, says the voice in your head.

"Thanks." You slowly back away, sounding calmer than you really are.  You don’t let your gaze off him even for a second, but avoid making direct eye contact.  You never know – the second you look away from him, he might decide to have you as a midnight snack… His blue eyes glimmer red, and a small voice in your head reminds you helpfully that red eyes in vampires means ‘hunger’.  Uh oh, says the voice in your head.  

Uh oh indeed.  The vampire opens his mouth. "Run."

You do just that, tearing out of that place like your life depends on it because it quite literally does.Thankfully, fate finally decides to be kind to you, as your beloved shoes don’t fall off and leave you with a twisted ankle, and the vampire boy doesn’t hunt you down just for kicks and giggles either. You unlock the door of your apartment, ready to flop onto your bed and fall into a long-awaited slumber, hoping that you’d wake up the next morning and realize that everything that had happened was just a dream, you didn’t really encounter a vampire. Unfortunately for you, it’s all real, and painfully so.

Life decides to give you a slap in the face in the name of your roommate and good friend Kim Seokjin, who is still awake and waiting for you on the couch with a cup of tea in one hand and a scowl on his handsome face.  He looks annoyed, but you know there’s a softie hiding under that cold, tough exterior he likes to put on. "So, Y/N," he drawls with a sip of his tea and a raise of an eyebrow, "where have you been?" He places his tea down on the saucer on his lap, not breaking eye contact.  He’s suspicious, but a suspicious Seokjin is still better than an angry one. You shrug with a loud sigh.  "Places." He cocks his head, not sure whether you’re lying or not. "It’s been a long day." You’re not wrong.  You flop onto the couch next to him, careful not to make him spill his tea.  "Almost got jumped by a creepy old perv," you mutter, leaving out the part where said ‘creepy old pervert’ got killed and drained by a bloodsucker.  Your lateness has caused Seokjin enough worry as it is, you don’t need to give him another reason to have a heart attack over you.

Seokjin shakes his head sympathetically.  "Poor you." Both of you lapse into silence as Seokjin continues to sip his tea.  You know he’s still suspicious.  "It’s gonna be Saturday tomorrow, but it's still almost one in the morning.  Tae’s coming over tomorrow, and you know how energetic he gets."

You laugh.  Seokjin’s younger brother is one of the most eccentric people you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, with a peculiar fashion sense and even stranger conversation topics.  You think he may have even howled at the moon, once, but you can’t be too sure.  It’s all good in the long run – once you get to know him, Taehyung is a genuinely awesome guy. He rises, padding over to the kitchen to wash his teacup.  He’s a bit of a hypocrite – you’re an insomniac, and you've never seen Seokjin sleep.  The older man stretches, spine cracking obscenely as he makes his way to his room.  "Get some sleep, Y/N.  I don’t want to see you out here until morning." You fake a yawn to satisfy him, your mind still buzzing with activity after an encounter with an enigmatic bloodsucker who’d saved your life without asking for anything in return.  "Night, Jin." That night, you take extra precautions in making sure that the door to your apartment is locked, and that all your windows are closed for certain.  You proceed to crawl into your bed and hide under the safety of your covers, squeezing your eyes shut only to see a pair of mesmerizing blue eyes floating at the forefront of your mind, flickering red.

Your eyes fly open.

“So much for sleeping,” you mutter to yourself. Damn bloodsucker. You muffle a scream with your pillow as the vampire in your mind's eye shoots you a charming wink. “Y/N, go to sleep!” Seokjin yells from his room next door.

#jeon jungkook #bts #bts au #jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jeongguk #vampire jungkook #jungkook au #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan #rm #jin #kim seokjin #bts jin #suga #jhope #jimin #v #vampire #bts paranormal au

[winterknight1087]

Painted Perfect Future

Summary:  Virgil’s parents are homophobic meanies, especially his dad, but don’t worry. Virgil has three amazing boyfriends and there’s always Disney to distract him from his anxiety and past trauma.

Word Count: 6,023

Warnings: Anxiety attacks; hit and run; hospitalization; homophobic parent; self-esteem issues; implied/referenced suicide (but of an off-screen OC); injury; emotional/psychological abuse; alcohol mention; angst with a happy ending; failing a class mention; food; mention of kidnapping in a Disney movie; warnings sound worse than really is (but better safe than sorry!)

Pairings: Romantic LAMP with a dash of Moxiety, Prinxiety, and Analogical

AO3 Link     My Writing

Well the Sanders Secret Santa has given all permission to reveal, so surprise @ironwoman359! I’m the weirdo who got to write your secret Santa! I hope you had a great winter holiday! 💜💜💜💜💜

“Oh! I want to go first! Can I go first? RoRo, pleeeease!” Patton begged, bouncing in his seat.

“Uuuuugh, fine,” Roman moaned. “I get to go next, then!”

“I have no quarrels with this. Virgil?” Lo asked, rolling his eyes at the two energetic men.

Virgil looked up from the gifts he was desperately clinging onto. “Huh? What?”

Pat gave the anxious figure a pouty look. “Do you have a problem with me first then RoRo? Unless you want to go first.”

“No, it’s fine Pat. I would like to go last, if that’s alright with you, Lo.”

Logan looked him over but answered. “It may relieve some of your anxiety if you hand your gifts out sooner, Virgil. There is very little chance you got any of us something we will not enjoy.”

“Don’t you mean… infinitesimal?” Patton giggled.

“THAT WAS ONE TIME!”

Virgil winced, “Geez, L. I knew I was going to lose my hearing, but I figured it would be from those two, not you.”

“I-uh” he cleared his throat, hands automatically trying to adjust the fake tie on his sleep shirt. “I apologize, Virgil.”

“Also, I want to go last. I’m nervous about my gifts, but also, I’ve rationalized it out that if you all hate it, I can go hide in my room. Less awkwardness if it’s hated.”

Logan and Patton shared an uncertain look, which did not go unnoticed by the anxious one. They seemed to agree on something and let the decision stand. Patton started giggling again as he dove straight into the pile of gifts sitting beneath the Christmas tree. For a full minute, Virgil counted the seconds, all that could be seen of the man was the cat tail to his onesie.

��****

  5 Years Ago: Virgil and Logan’s freshmen dorm room

 “Little Shadowling?”

You’re just a disappointment. You can’t even keep your grades up in the few classes you actually like. You have an F in Art 101! Who fails Art 101?!?

“Kiddo?”

They don’t care about you. Why should they? Who would be proud of an anxious mess like you?

“Verge, please answer me.”

Next thing you know, they’ll somehow find out that you’re gay. They’ll blame college for ‘turning you’ gay and force you to drop out. You’ll lose what little you’ve gained.

“Virgil, come on buddy. Breathe with me. There we go.”

Virgil wasn’t sure how long he’d been spiraling. What mattered was the warmth surrounding him and the steady rhythmic tapping on his back. At least, that was what mattered until he remembered that Logan was in class until much later. A lightning bolt might as well have struck him for how badly he jumped away, frantically throwing his hands out for anything that could work as a weapon.

“Whoa there, kiddo!” A familiar voice said. “It’s just your happy-pappy Patton!”

As Virgil’s mind finally started to work again, he saw Patton sitting next to him. Virgil looked down and saw that the vicious weapon he had sought turned out to be only a spare paint brush. He set it aside before awkwardly looking at Pat. The other seemed to understand and opened his arms, inviting Virgil into a hug.

“Do you want to talk about it, Virge?”

All Virgil could manage was a shake of his head.

“What about we watch a movie and I make us some yummy hot cocoa? You know what, I’m feeling dangerous, let’s eat the box of cookies I was saving! Does that sound good, my bestest mostest dynamicist duoist duo partner!”

Too many words so soon after an anxiety attack.  “I… umm… Sure Pat. Whatever you want to watch.”

With Virgil’s agreement, Patton was off to work. He shocked the anxious one by easily picking him up and placing him in his bed. Next, he was peeking at what was already in the DVD player. He smiled seeing that Roman had been forcing Logan to watch Lilo and Stitch. That would work perfectly for his anxious little baby. With that, he threw some popcorn into the microwave and started working on their hot cocoa.

Virgil watched Pat move about for a moment before deciding that it would relieve some anxiety for him to also do something–anything. He climbed out of bed and started collecting all the spare blankets (and not so spare, though he doubted Logan would mind  too much that he stole his bedding). By the time Patton was bringing the snacks and drinks over, Virgil’s bed was about two feet taller with Vee in the middle, making the pile into a sensible nest for them.

Pat and Virge cuddled through the movie. It was exactly what Virgil needed after what happened this afternoon. They joked and threw popcorn at meanie heads. When Lilo had told Stitch that he couldn’t have any more caffeine, Virgil couldn’t help but poke Patton.

“Hey, look! You’re on TV!”

“DOES THIS MEAN YOU ARE THE STITCH TO MY LILO!”

“Uhh… Sure?”

Unbeknownst to the two on the bed, Logan had walked in only to hear screeching about Ohana and family. He had already started to set his bag down, muscle memory doing so automatically. Yet, as the chemical engineering student managed to take everything in, he only blinked and scooped up the bag to leave once again. Though, the pictures he snagged of the two best friends would later prove he had seen the pair.

 ****

  Present

 “Here they are!” Patton’s voice yanked Virgil’s mind from that small dorm room. “Alright, here we go! One for LoLo! VeeVee! And RoRo!”

Each accepted their gift and waited for Patton to sit down. Each took their tern unwrapping the (miserably) wrapped gifts. Roman went first to find a prince costume PJ set. Princey screeched when he pulled out a stuffed animal horse. It took Virgil a moment to realize it was horse from Tangled. Mick? No… Maxwell? Max- yes, -well no. Maximillian? Closer, but still wrong. Oh Maximus, right. Maybe Virgil should re-watch Tangled if he couldn’t remember something as simple as the horse’s name.

“I LOVE THEM PATTON!” 

Patton didn’t have a chance to respond before Roman was running into the closest room to change into his new PJs. Once he came back, he showed the three others the PJs from every angle, making sure his boyfriends got a good look at his muscles while doing so as well. Patton was giggling whereas Logan and Virgil were smirking at his antics, all three used to the dramatic prince.

Next was Logan. He took his time unwrapping the gift before pulling out his own set of items. He picked up a tie that listed different elements from the periodic table. Virgil was sure there had to be some sort of pun in the tie’s design, but he wasn’t well versed in… well, science in general. There was a groan from the tie-clad man which was proof enough for Virgil to know the pun existed. There were also socks, a galaxy pen, a ‘tears of my students’ mug, and even a mug warmer.

“While I loathe to finding a joke on the tie, I do enjoy these gifts. Thank you, Patton.”

“What’s the joke!” Roman squealed.

“Iodine. Lithium. Uranium. Vanadium. Cobalt. Fluorine. Iron”

“In English, Microsoft Nerd!”

Patton was giggling as he answered. “I luv coffe(e)! The symbols spell I luv coffee!”

Virgil was last. He ripped open the gift to find a giant blanket. It was designed just like his patch-work jacket and Virgil could have sworn that this was the softest thing to ever exist... alright, second softest as Patton was without a doubt the softest and sweetest. Patton was watching him worriedly as the anxious man ran his hand over the blanket. Without a word, Virgil swung the giant blanket around himself and just seemed to vanish into the mass of fluff, sending the other men in the room into a fit of laughter.

“Prepare yourselves, my beloved royalty!”

 ****

2 Years Ago: The shared apartment living room

 “You fiend! Why do you besmirch the name of Disney every time we watch something!”

“Not my fault you started this marathon and it is definitely  not  my fault that you started the argument with Cinderella, claiming that you only need to believe in your dreams for them to come true instead of trying to actively attain them. Either stop screaming about arguable statements and put in The Lion King or sit here letting me ruin Disney for you.”

Roman grumbled but did get up from the couch to change DVD’s. It was a relatively calm evening in their apartment, at least it was for the two of them alone. Logan and Patton were at the library. Patton was with a study group and Logan, who didn’t want Patton coming home on his own, was studying on his own until the study group were done. That left Roman and Virgil with the apartment for the evening, and they’d used it to binge-watch Disney movies.

Riiiiiiiiing. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.

“Tell the nerds to pick up pizza, Count Woelaf!” Roman called as Virgil automatically answered his phone.

“Did you really think I won’t find out! Virgil, the homosexual beast!”

With some strange sound escaping his throat, Virgil threw his phone across the living room as his body forgot how to breathe. He could hear a voice screaming his name and that only made breathing harder to achieve. His thoughts were spiraling and his world collapsing.

“Vee, please!”

They knew! They knew he was gay! He knew it was only a matter of time before they found out, but he had been so careful to keep that day from coming yet!

“Oh, what was it Logan said to do?”

How long did he have until everything changed? How long until what little love they had for him was gone?

“Virgil, can you… uhh… name five things you hear? No, see! Five things you can see?”

Some words spilled out of Virgil’s mouth, momentarily pausing the spiral before it came back. They are going to cut him off. Everyone would know by the end of the day. Whoever was trying to get him to list things would be gone just like them!

“Yikes, alright. Umm… Oh! Virgil, you have to agree with me now that Prince Charming kissing Snow White was sweet and an incredible moment, right?”

They knew, so some comment about a movie shouldn’t bother him right now! “No.”

“But it was a farewell kiss! What is more romantic than that!”

This doesn’t matter right now! “Consent! Not kissing dead people!”

Slowly, the bickering about Disney managed to knock Virgil out of his spiral. Roman looked desperate but also happy? Since when did Princey like hearing the dark side of Disney? Later, Virgil would admit that, though an unusual approach, Roman’s way did help him ground himself. Right now, though, they argued until Rafiki started to mess around with Simba.

“Wait, I didn’t realize Patton was in this movie.” Virgil offered as a weak joke.

“I can see PatDad as Rafiki. What about Lo-bot? Who do you think he’d be?”

“Zazu. And before you ask, you are a combination of Timon and Pumbaa”

Roman gave a huge, mock gasp. “Excuse me! Why would you not make me the King of Pride Rock!?”

“Because Mufasa is too kind and humble for you and honestly? I can see you 100% dressing in drag and doing the hula like Timon as a distraction. As it is, you did storm Pat and my history class dressed as Aladdin and started singing ‘I Can Show You the World’ to Pat all because Pat was having an off day. Then, when our professor became furious, you started belting out ‘Proud of Your Boy’–which I remind you again is from the musical not the original Disney film!”

“OK fine, what the that make you then?”

“Simba, of course. He ran from his problems, blamed himself for everything when it was really Scar’s fault, and randomly joined some bug-eating hippies in the jungle. Simba is me just as The Lion King is Hamlet.”

“You have gone too far! How dare you equate Timon and Pumbaa to hippies!”

“Really, that’s where you draw the line?

“Guess who brought home Chinese Take-Out!” a voice called as Lo and Pat appeared, bringing a couple of bags over to the coffee table.

Their appearance threw Roman into La La Land for a moment, but he promptly wailed out once he realized what they were having for dinner. “But pizzzzzzzzzzza!”

“What about pizza?” Logan asked as Roman promptly collected his share of food.

“Nooooooooooooooo! We forgot to call you!” Roman sounded like he was close to crying, though he was already raising a bite of rice to his mouth.

Patton giggled. “Sorry, we apparently didn’t get your telepathic message, RoRo. I did get you pot stickers though.”

An actual tear escaped the dramatic man’s face as he wailed. “I foooorgive yoooooooooooooooooooooooooou!”

 ****

Present

 “Alright, Puffball first!”

Roman handed Patton a bag. Pat was wiggling with excitement as he opened the bag and pulled out the paper stuffing. Inside were four stuffed animals, each one dressed like each of them. A dog with its tongue sticking out had Pat’s glasses, light blue polo shirt and a little gray cardigan around its shoulders. A lion had a crown, prince costume, and even a fake little sword. A normal looking teddy bear had Logan’s black polo with a tie, glasses, and tiny watch. The final one was a kitten with a black hoodie and headphones.

“Press the kitten’s paw, Patty-Cake!”

Virgil was not amused to hear his own voice hissing come out of the kitten. Patton, on the other hand, absolutely loved it. Roman admitted that the others weren’t as convincing as the hiss, but Patton didn’t care; the four stuffed animals were in his arms and probably weren’t going to leave for the next several hours.

“OK, I’m actually proud of this one, Nerd.” He announced handing Logan a highly decorated box.

Logan opened it and made a small sound of appreciation at the books. “Bill Nye and Neil deGrasse Tyson. Thank you- “

“Look inside at the title pages, Lo!”

The man blinked but did as told. He froze after seeing the first one for a moment. Quickly, he checked the second one before just sitting there in shock. Roman was watching him in excitement.

“Well?”

“Did you really have Bill Nye and Neil deGrasse Tyson sign each other’s book?”

“What.”

Without another word, Logan showed the rest of the room the front page of the Tyson book where Bill Nye’s signature proudly sat. Roman looked like someone had slapped him with a fish. Virgil emerged from his blanket, laughing so hard, he didn’t even notice he’d emerged from his soft lair. Patton had a huge smile as soft giggles escaped from him.

“Regardless, I will enjoy reading these. Thank you, Roman. The signatures are also greatly appreciated.”

“Vee’s turn!” Pat called out.

Roman passed Virgil another bag, his mind running around in circles in disbelief of his mistake. Virgil accepted the bag and found a small wooden music box and a small metal container. Inside the container were extra tune things for the music box. The one already inside the music box was ‘Hakuna Matata,’ so Virgil had a suspicion that the other ones were also Disney. 

Once again, he vanished into his giant blanket without a word, but the other three could hear the little music box playing from the blanket mound, with a soft voice singing along.

 ****

  1 year ago: Their living room.

 “Uhh… Virgil, might I have a word with you?”

Virgil paused the movie he was watching. “What’s up, L?”

Logan shifted uncertainly before clearing his throat. “I happened to have found a stack of unopened letters, addressed to you. They were almost covering an opened one in the trash.”

“They are in the trash for a reason, Logan. Throw them back.”

“I was merely wondering if you would like to talk…” 

“If I wanted to talk about it, I would have said something. I’m dealing with it.”

Without letting Logan say another word, Virgil turned the movie back on. Logan tried to say something else but ultimately decided to shut his mouth and join Virgil on the couch. The tension between the two men slowly eased as Rapunzel celebrated with the villagers and stood up for herself to Gothel.

Logan cleared his throat, which instantly made Virgil go tense again. “What is that inconsequential game Roman and you insistently play? Which film character each of you are? If you would not mind, I would like to partake in this fatuous game for this film.”

Of all the things that had suddenly started racing through Virgil’s mind, this was not remotely what he expected. “Umm… Sure, Lo? Let’s hear your character study.”

“While I do not see simple correlations between the characters and the rest of us, I do see a lot of you in Rapunzel.”

“What, because I like hitting people with frying pans? I would have thought you’d say Patton for her. She is a bit too trusting of people and yet draws out the best in them. She even got a pub full of hardened criminals to sing about their dreams with her.”

Logan tilted his head, considering this. “That is in fact true, but she did not know any better. That puts her in stark contrast to Patton, who has at least admitted that he knows that they may be dangerous, but he gives the benefit of the doubt as some people just need kindness shown to them. No, I believe you are most like Rapunzel. Gothel has psychologically abused Rapunzel, presumably since kidnapping her, in a similar way to how  they…  I mean society has attempted to do towards you. If I am not mistaken, earlier in this film, she in essence has a break down whether she should have stayed within the tower or was right to leave. Has this not been a similar dilemma you have faced, having left your hometown?”

Virgil considered it for a moment. “Well…”

“Gothel has taught Rapunzel that she could be nothing and especially nothing more than what Gothel said she could be. Gothel is wrong though. Rapunzel is more than just her magic hair and has to leave to be able to full learn this.” Virgil could almost hear Logan’s mind piecing together movie points to what he really wanted to say to Virgil. “Yes, she could have been a bit naïve with her actions, not realizing any better due to Gothel’s strict hold over her views. Yet, that nativity in the end is what helps her realize the ways Gothel was an abusive parent because she came to see what kindness and what true love were supposed to feel like. She was miserable when she returned to the tower and could see through Gothel’s perfunctory love. Rapunzel had to learn to develop her own views and beliefs independent of her abusive adopted mother.”

Quietly, Virgil picked at his jacket, thinking over what Logan was saying. “I guess.”

 “Well, I guess I concede and allow you to voice your view points on who is who.” Logan commented, his voice attempting to hold enthusiasm, but failing.

“Oh, that’s easy. Patton and I already assigned everyone years ago. Princey is Flynn Rider for the sole quote of ‘here comes the smolder’ along with essentially a pouty face. Patton agrees with you on me being Rapunzel. Something about him never being able to beat people up with anything, much less something as useful as a frying pan. Meanwhile, Patty-cake is Pascal, who does what he can to cheer Rapunzel on and threatens Flynn and Maximus when they are fighting. You are Maximus, dedicated to your work but also willing to bend the rules for a good reason.”

“Well then... I do not understand this film enough to refute those points, so I shall concede to your points. However, I will say this, about the letters, before leaving it alone. Please, if nothing else, do not leave us on read. We only wish to help you yeet your unwanted tea. We Stan you, Virgil. I hope you are woke to this.”

“Logan, I swear, if you have those note cards out and ever  attempt to use that much slang in one sentence again…”

“I am merely only collecting receipts and flexing. Is this not how it goes?”

“Stooooooooooop” but the smile sitting on Virgil’s face showed Logan that he was doing something right on this comforting thing.

****

  Present

 “I suppose that it is now my turn.” Logan commented.

He moved and collected a neat stack of presents, wrapped in shimmering navy wrapping paper. Once Logan hand handed each of the boyfriends their present, he sat down. Virgil wasn’t sure how Logan even knew which gift was whose as there seemed to be no difference or name written on the package now in his lap compared to the others.

Pat was once again giggling as he tore open the gift. A book and kitchen apron were ripped out of the box by the squealing man. He announced the book title of some healthy-eating cookbook before unfolding the apron and giving out another squeal. He flipped the apron to show the words ‘Many have eaten here, few have died. Whichever it is tonight, I’ll see you on the flipside!’.

Once the excited man had finally calmed down, Roman destroyed the wrappings on his gift to reveal a nice suit and an additional envelope. Ro was confused as he opened the envelope before letting out a squeal that could have put up a decent fight with Patton’s squeals.

“TICKETS TO SEE HAMILTON! HOW DID YOU EVEN GET THESE? WHEN IS IT? ARE WE ALL GOING?”

Logan chuckled. “One of my coworkers has a cousin who performs in Hamilton and they owed me for something at work. Unless you wish to take others with you, I had assumed it would be the four of us. I am sorry to say that you will have to wait a month as everything will be cheaper once the holidays are over.”

“A weekend getaway with my three amazing boyfriends to Broadway!” Roman screeched looking ready to shoot through the roof in excitement. "YAAAAS!"

“Ohhhh. What did you get, Vee?” Patton asked excitedly.

All eyes turned towards the wrapped-up man. He let out a laugh before opening his present. Inside were a set of headphones and a gift card. Virgil glanced at the gift card, pleased to see it was for his favorite art supplies store. The headphones were everything Virgil could have wished for and more. They were sound-canceling. They had a good sound frequency, sensitivity, and resistance, which were all important for sound. They were wireless but with an optional wired-in line. Virgil did not know where Logan found what was essentially the epitome of headphones, but Virgil found himself falling even more in love with the nerd.

“I love them, thank you, Lo.”

“Your turn, VeeVee!” Patton announced excitedly.

 ****

  3 months ago: leaving a movie theater

 “I cannot believe you, My Chemical Romance! You are already plotting with Specs to ruin the masterpiece we just saw!” Roman announced, turning his phone onto the two following him.

“We are not plotting, merely discussing the inconsistencies and flaws within the film, unlike you and Patton, who are discussing the adorable-ness of the animal companion to the princess.” Logan calmly answered.

“OK, not to intrude or anything, but PUPPY!” Patton screeched before yanking Roman after him as Pat ran across the street to pet the dog.

Roman’s arm waved his phone as he was dragged off to the dog. Virgil could only laugh at how the video he was recording would turn out, knowing full well what the Prince was attempting to do. Not that recording their discussion would prepare the Prince for all the darker messages Virgil had scribbled into a tiny notebook just to taunt him with during the movie.

“Well, the light has changed, so I guess we will have to wait to follow them.” Logan commented, simply.

“Guess we have a chance to continue our conversation without a nosey prince berating us for analyzing the movie. So, the princess: guilable victim or mastermind genius?”

Logan considered it. “Well, I would say somewhere in the middle, especially with Disney’s attempts to create more realistic characters.”

They talked while waiting for the light. Logan only paused as he stepped off the curb before continuing with his analysis. Virgil could tell that the nerd was only getting started and was excited to see how the Noble Prince Whines A Lot took it while they ate dinner. Yet, he wasn’t so excited that he wasn’t aware of his surroundings.

“LOGAN!” the scream was ripped from his lips as he shoved the nerd back towards the curl they had left.

Then, the world went dark.

 **

 Virgil awoke to a persistent beeping, sniffles, and the smell of alcohol. His eyes focused on a plain white ceiling as his memories slammed into him, much like that car. He shut his eyes for a moment, before opening them to find the source of the sniffles.

“’at?” his throat was scratchy but the man in the chair next to him wasn’t looking at him.

The sobbing man jumped as if shocked by electricity. “VIRGIL!”

“’at’s mah ‘ame.”

More sobs escaped the man as he threw himself onto Virgil, forgetting about the anxious man’s injuries, lines attached to him, or even Virgil’s need to breathe. Patton was a sobbing mess as he held onto Virgil, blabbering about everything and nothing all at once. Virgil was tempted to point out that he was the one hurt, but he knew that his boyfriends would have had to suffer seeing him hurt, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Patton, the nurses are becoming irate with you. Please keep it down or they’ll kick all of us out.” Logan’s voice came from somewhere to Virgil’s left.

“Uh… Padre, we’re all upset, but you shouldn’t be laying on top of Vee. Not if we want him to wake up.” Roman’s voice commented.

Another shock of electricity ran through Patton. “OH! I’m so so so sorry, VeeVee! I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Pat…”

“‘m OK.” Virgil answered.

He heard something drop before Logan and Roman were now surrounding his bed, shock and hope on their faces. Virgil looked at each of them before offering a weak smile. Each went to work ensuring that he was alright and not in any drastic pain or anything like that. For his part, Virgil just continued smiling at them, knowing that he may hate their babying soon enough, but appreciating their concern and worry nonetheless.

Eventually, a police officer came to question him about what he remembered. The officer wound up having Logan and Roman go with him as they had more of the story than Virgil–who had been unconscious– and Patton–who had been absorbed by the dog until the hit and run was essentially over, only having looked up after Virgil had screamed Logan’s name.

Other than the officer, there was little other than the distractions from the three other men. Occasionally, a doctor or nurse would come by, but otherwise nothing else really happened. And that stayed true for three whole days. Virgil loved Lo, Pat, and Ro, but he was starting to need a small break, even from them.

For their part, the three boyfriends were just relieved Virgil was going to be alright. They’d barely slept or eaten since the accident. Logan was constantly in a near panic attack, knowing that Virgil had saved his life at the cost of bodily harm. Roman felt as though he had failed his Dark Prince. What good was a knight to his lover if he couldn’t keep his lover from harm? And Patton… Patton was just a wreck. He felt guilty as if he were the one to hit Virgil. So, if the three of them asked if Virgil needed anything every few minutes or asked if he was in pain or everything else they’ve been doing, while who could blame them?

A voice that had only appeared in Virgil’s nightmares for the past two years tore through the air when the four boyfriends were relaxing after the latest news that Virgil should be ready to head home soon. “Pity. You’re still alive.”

Virgil promptly curled in on himself once he registered the speaker. “What are you doing here?”

“Had to see for myself the damage done to the disgrace that became of my son.” The man commented. “By the way, did you know that your disgrace was the final straw for my wife? Couldn’t handle having something like you as a child, I suppose.”

The three uninjured boyfriends glanced at each other, the same message written on each of their faces: this is Virgil’s abusive father? Without a thought, each moved between the man and their fourth partner, not caring what relation this man was to Virgil. Virgil seemed to be terrified of him, and that was enough. Though being fair, Lo and Ro were already mentally planning the best ways to punish him for the abuse they knew of. 

 “How did you even know I was hurt?” Virgil’s voice suddenly demanded.

“Wait, it was  you  who drove straight into Virgil!” Logan’s voice was ice.

The man hummed before commenting. “I was looking to kill two disgraces in one hit, but we don’t get what we want, I guess.”

“I think this is a new one for me.”

The man spun around and slammed right into the officer. The officer was coming back to tell the injured man that there was some success in running a plate captured by mere coincidence by Roman. Yet, a confession in an open place? Works for them, the officer supposed.

“You are under arrest for attempted murder.” The officer clipped some handcuffs onto the man.

Once things were protocol-fulfilled, the officer grinned at the boyfriends. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a criminal gloating to his victim as I happen to be visiting with updates.”

The officer and the man were gone before Virgil had actually processed the timing miracle he had just witnessed. Maybe fate was finally throwing him a small sliver of a bone. He wasn’t going to question it. He wasn’t going to poke it with a fifty-foot stick. He would just accept this one thing and happily not look the gift horse in the mouth… Though Logan would definitely look into the literal meaning of that phrase and point out everything confusing and wrong with a confused look on his face. This mental image of a confused Logan with the other two giggling at his confusion was enough to shock Virgil back into himself and start to weakly laugh.

The three other boyfriends looked at him in a terrified confusion before joining in his weak laughter, believing that this was from relief that he would never be harmed again by his horrid parents rather than love of his partners.

Once he was released, the three boyfriends went to work on ‘Plan Take Care of VeeVee’. He wasn’t even allowed to go to the kitchen without one of them insistently helping or trying to take care of it for him. Like he expected, Virgil became tired of their babying of him, but it was alright. 

Everything would be alright.

 ****

  Present

 Virgil gulped as he pulled the three gifts closer to his chest. “Before I hand them over, I would like to ask that you three open them at the same time, OK?”

Each nodded and accepted the gift he handed each. They instantly could tell their gift was on some sort of canvas, but other than that, they were unsure what each would be. Virgil didn’t sit back down in his spot but stood before the three of them. He was shaking but was not going to let his fear drag him down any longer.

“Alright, you can open them.”

Each opened their gifts to find a painting in them. Patton’s painting was an image of Lilo and Stitch performing a hula dance. The Ohana quote was decoratively hidden in the ocean waters as they danced. For Roman, it was a picture of Pride Rock with Simba letting out a roar while his friends stood behind him. Then, for Logan, it was a painting of the lanterns lifting into the sky, lanterns that held not the sun symbol but rather a brain with glasses.

Logan looked up to compliment the painting he had received when something on the back of Patton’s canvas caught his eye. “Patton, place your painting down, backside up! You too, Roman!”

The other two looked confused until they noticed the words carefully written on the back of each of them.

Patton’s: Will you

Roman’s: marry

Logan’s: me?

The three of them looked up to Virgil, who had sunk to one knee while they examined the paintings. He was holding a box open before them with four rings inside: a ring in each of their favorite colors. Virgil was trembling so bad, some small part in the back of his mind worried he was about to pass out, but he had to do this.

“I love all three of you more than I thought possible to love anyone. We’ve spent an amazing four years dating and I want to have more. So, will the three of you marry me?”

The room was silent for what felt like eternity before Roman let out a miserable wail. “Nooooooooo!”

Something in Virgil shattered but Roman was already on his feet. “Noooooooooooo! I can’t believe this! I was going to propose on Valentine’s Day! It was supposed to be the perfect proposal too! Dinner and flowers and everything. But you beat me! How could you do this to me, Virgil!”

Patton let out a small giggle. “Sorry to disappoint you, Ro, but if VeeVee hadn’t beaten you to it, I would have. I was planning on asking after dinner tonight, right before dessert.”

Logan fixed his glassed. “And I, at risk of appearing sentimental, had planned on asking at midnight on New Year’s Eve.”

“So,” Virgil’s voice was barely more than a scared whisper. “Is that actually a yes from you three?”

“Of course, my dashing and noble prince! Why would you have assumed otherwise!” Roman announced.

“Because the moment after I asked, you screamed no but then started ranting about something while I attempted to pull myself together in time to hear about Pat’s plans”

“Oh,” Princey went pale realizing that was not the time for dramatics. “Sorry, my Dark Prince, I did not mean that. Yes, of course I will marry you! It is a thousand yesses from me! Nay, a million! A billion! An infinitive amount of yesses!”

“The usage of yesses sounds incorrect but I cannot think of the proper plural for yes. In answer to your proposal, Virgil, I also say yes, though will refrain from the absurdity Roman is going on about.”

Rather than give an answer, Paton yanked Roman and Logan with him as he threw himself at Virgil. They collapsed into a giant cuddle pile as Patton started singsongingly screaming “We’re getting married! We’re getting married!”

Virgil could only smile and cuddle with his fiancés. Later, Roman would screech about hanging the paintings in proper order of the secret words on the back. Patton and Logan would both sheepishly bring out their own boxes of rings, making Roman wail about having not gotten them their rings yet. They would celebrate their engagement and begin planning wedding details and whatever else. They may not have been the family who gave Virgil life, but they were the family he chose, and he would probably admit it to them once Roman had put enough alcohol in him in celebration of their engagement. But, in this moment, Virgil just clung to the three men who showed him what love was.

#romantic lamp #moxiety #prinxiety #Analogical #tw abusive parent #tw food #tw hit an run #tw anxiety attack #angst with a happy ending #tw implied suicide of off-screen OC #tw homophobic parent #tw alcohol mention #Sage writes

[malereader-inserts]

Look After Me

Fandom: Twilight Pairing: Cullen Family & Male!Reader Summary: Sometimes, human can be a downside. Word Count: 1105 Request: “Ok so, my first request is some fluffy Cullen! Reader cuz I'm a sucker for your son!reader. Hope you have a good day, honey 🍯 “

Sometimes, in times like this, you hated being the only human of the house.

As days get shorter and nights longer, temperature dropping into sub negative, you didn’t know whether the vampires in the house realise your needs. Whilst they have no effect on temperature, you were freezing, despite wearing hoodies and snuggled up to your covers hoping that your laptop would overheat for just one moment to at least radiate some sort of higher temperature.

You were too sick to even attempt to leave the bed. Whilst you could always hope Edward could hear your thoughts and turn up the heating, you were too tired to even lift a finger and text someone in the house.

You hated being sick, you were constantly tired and wheezing. You often lie awake, unable to breathe with a stuffy nose and a tight chest. You had barely come down from your room to eat, though you know it won’t be much help when you're throwing it back up five minutes later.

It was the weekend and the thought of school dreaded you - not feeling like utter crap.

Carlisle was at work, the doctor of the house unable to tend to your needs. Edward was at Bella's unable to put his training into good use whilst the rest of your family went out for a big hunt. Leaving you stranded at home, though you weren’t that bothered until now. You sat up as your flat hair stuck onto your sweaty forehead.

Your sleeves rolled up to the elbow and your hair covered with the hood of your hoodie, yet you refused to remove your hoodie. You sighed, cursing your blocked nose as you roll out of bed, wrapping the thick covers around your shoulders.

Carlisle’s office was downstairs and along all flu medicines, a change of scenery. You stumbled to the out of the room, and with each step, your stomach tightened and ached all the more. 

You wonder if Alice could see you wilting away, what you need is one of your siblings holding you with their marble cold exterior cooling you down.

Making downstairs, your chest tightened. Wheezing as a violent string of coughs shook you. You moaned as you collapsed onto the sofa - thinking medicine could wait later. The house was radio silent, you hated it, reaching for the remote on the coffee table.

The TV was blaring when you switched it on.

“For the love of God, Emmett,” You whined to yourself, “You’d think for a vampire he wouldn’t be deaf.”

Lowering the volume as your headache ceases, you flip through the channels, avoiding your mother’s beloved food channels. Vomit was stirring inside you and you really weren’t in the mood to throw up.

The door slams up, you barely flinched as you found someone standing in front of you. You blinked as your tired eyes met with concern ambers ones. 

“Hi Alice,” You croaked out as your face bury itself closer to the sofa. 

“Hey baby,” she cooed as Rosalie was at her side almost instantly, “We came as soon as I saw-”

“Hmh,” You mumbled as Rosalie bend down, running her hand through your knotted sweaty hair. 

Jasper and Emmett came into view, stupid grins on their faces just to lighten the mood. You softly smile as you let Emmett manhandle you as he positions you to be cuddling with his side. 

“Em,” you moaned, sighing, Emmett rubs your arm up and down.

Jasper brings your legs onto his lap, whilst Emmett wrapped his arm over your shoulder. Rosalie situated herself next to her husband but kept glancing at you, ready to retrieve anything that you needed.

Alice came bouncing towards you, kneeling down as she softly smiles. Rubbing her hand on your cheek, frowning how heated it was.

“Esme is cooking you some soup, do you think you can keep it down?”

“Dunno, I haven’t eaten anything,” You mumbled, your cheek leaning against Emmett as your siblings sigh and looked at you with pity.

“Would you like to have some water?” Jasper offered, hearing your raspy voice, you nodded. Jasper was about to stand up but Alice pushing him down and went to get it for you.

“Carlisle is on his way home too,” Rosalie mentioned locking her phone, “He’s worried, baby boy, he would have stayed home you know?”

You shrugged, “His job is more important, just needed rest really.”

“You slept until noon, (Y/n),” Edward mentioned throwing his jacket on the armchair.

He smiles at you, kissing your forehead before perching himself on the armchair. You looked at him confusingly as you wondered why he was home than spending time with his girlfriend. Edward hummed as he looks at you.

“You are far more important than Bella, little one,” Edward explains, “You’re sick, you need us.”

“Exactly, I’m sick, not dying.” You moaned as you see Alice come back with a bottle of water and handing it to you, “Thanks.”

You allowed Rosalie to uncapped the bottle as she helped you lift it up, feeling so much better when the cold liquid run down. You snuggle yourself into Emmett whilst Jasper close next to on the other side with Alice on his arm.

“Do you need help eating, honey?” Esme calls out as she came to see you with a bowl of soup.

Your hand peaked out from the cover with shaky hands, “That would be nice.”

Esme nods, her motherly look soothed you. In times like this, you liked being the youngest. You were well protected, well loved and well cared for. How each of your siblings would drop everything to be at your side, to be at your aid. You enjoyed the attention, how each family member has their own personal term of endearment for you.

It made you feel giddy inside.

Jasper liked to see you like this, he often found himself being around you often. They encouraged you to express yourself, never put you down and certainly allowed you to have your emotions. Men should never be repressed for feeling, they weren’t for that sort of bullshit.

If anything were to happened to you, well damned to those who attempted because the Cullens were and are a vicious clan when messed with their pride and joy. 

“Want to watch a movie, little lion?” Jasper questioned, “I heard someone in the house bought you your favourite.”

You immediately brighten as you could as Esme fed you another spoonful of soup. The family were quick the relax, waiting for your dad’s arrival, you were satisfied. 

You couldn’t ask for a better family than this.

#alice cullen #edward cullen #Emmett Cullen #edward cullen imagine #emmett cullen imagine #alice cullen imagine #cullen family x male reader #x male reader #jasper hale #jasper hale imagine #Rosalie Hale #rosalie hale imagine #platonic

[margridarnauds]

Can you please talk about Imhotep x Anck Sun Amun. Anything. I’ve come back to one of my age old opts and I need your help

Oh my God, I’ll try! (Warning: Contains some salt for the second film, though it comes from a place of love and affection, and much rambling, which isn’t helped by the fact that it’s been a little while since I’ve seen both films but still have many feelings, also tw: for references to rape)

Like you, they were probably one of my oldest OTPs, and I’ve always been more or less consistent on them. (I remember being SO disappointed as a kid with the finale of the Animated Series when Imhotep just...walks away from her.) I absolutely loved how EPIC and tragic it was, and I was always rooting for them to get a happy ending. (And I was always disappointed, until I discovered the wonderful world of fanfic.) The Mummy is actually what got me started with my interest in history, and so I really do owe it a big one for that. It’s probably one of the single most influential pieces of media I’ve consumed in my life. I definitely think they were at their strongest in The Mummy; that’s the film that really DEFINES the ship for me, despite Anck getting relatively little time. Like, in the course of the introduction, we find out several things in quick succession: That Imhotep was Pharaoh’s high priest, that Anck was his mistress, and that they loved each other enough that "For their love, they were willing to risk life itself.” And then, after THAT, we learn that they were willing to kill PHARAOH, AKA the MEDIATOR BETWEEN THE DIVINE AND THE MORTAL REALM for the sake of each other. One of the things I actually realized while I was rewatching The Scene is that there’s actually a moment immediately after Pharaoh’s asked her who touched her where she looks at her arm and has a brief moment of surprise, starting just a LITTLE before she turns to look at Seti and then, behind him... 

She is TERRIFIED at this point. I think that killing Pharaoh was probably been something they’d considered, possibly talked about, but I have some strong doubts that this particular part was planned out. (Though I could also be very, very easily persuaded otherwise as well; it’s the kind of thing I’ve gone back and forth on over the years.) And then the two of them work TOGETHER to kill Pharaoh. Anck isn’t passively sitting by while her lover kills Seti, she’s actively participating in it, taking the first stab even before Imhotep gets to it, when he’s just drawn his sword. And, when the Medjai come, Imhotep was willing to DIE for her, only being dragged away by his priests, even though Anck had begged him to leave so that he could resurrect her. And then we learn a little bit about why she might not have hesitated to kill Pharaoh before Imhotep did...

This is what she chooses as her LAST WORDS. A defiant statement saying, once and for all, that she’s never going to be violated again, her last action seizing agency for herself, killing herself before letting her fate being dictated by someone else again (and to prevent her from the painful, painful death that would have awaited her otherwise). All while letting the man she chose to be with, to love, escape while she took the full blame (it’s mentioned in the original script by Narrator!Imhotep that “For murdering Pharaoh, Anck-su-namun's body was to be cursed. And it was I, the High Priest, whose duty it was to curse it.” Which...holy ANGST Batman. Given how IMPORTANT the body was to Ancient Egyptian beliefs relating to the afterlife and how important the afterlife really WAS, this must have killed him, even if he might have justified to himself that he was going to get her back. 

I’ll never entirely forgive the second film for changing her from “mistress” to “fiancee” (which seems to give her more...security, than her just being a concubine, though realistically Seti has MULTIPLE wives, but The Mummy doesn’t MENTION them or Nefertiti’s mother, so...) and deciding that she was going to be an Obvious Dark Sexy Lady from the get-go, when this is pretty damn self-explanatory. But they’d decided that Nefertiti was going to be Evie, and Seti was now the BELOVED FATHER of our heroine, and so of course Seti has to be a loving, kind father whose death was a great tragedy. (Though...personally, I choose to go with Nefertiti as an unreliable narrator. Of course she’s not going to have sympathy for a common concubine who murdered her rightful king, she had to have been a scheming, manipulative woman from the beginning. Seti can be a loving father...who still treated Anck as if she was an object for his pleasure.)

It’s just...so, so important for me to emphasize that she CHOSE to love Imhotep, that he might very well have BEEN the only man she CHOSE to be with in her life

And I’ve focused a lot on this opening and how IMPORTANT it is because it’s literally the first thing we see, and it’s what sets up the entire series. “For their love, they were willing to risk life itself” and, as it turns out, their afterlives as well. Even while Imhotep’s been turned into a cursed figure, doomed to bring the Ten Plagues of Egypt, he has two essential goals (1) Get himself rejuvenated so he won’t run up a tree whenever a cat comes along and (2) Get Anck back. Like...holy SHIT. He was willing to tear down this world and the next just to have the life with her that they SHOULD have had, in another world. 

One of the things that really stood out while I was looking for sources to work with was something that Pete Hammond, a film critic said, which is that "people want to believe in a life after death situation," which is TRUE, and explains a lot of the appeal of figures like ghosts and zombies and mummies (who are kind of specifically Egyptian zombies, as far as their ties to imperialism are concerned, but I digress), but also with Imhotep and Anck-su-Namun in particular, it’s the idea of a star-crossed love so incredibly powerful that it lasts for MILLENNIA, in defiance of death and life. It’s destructive, to the society they live in, to the world at large, but it’s epic love at its finest and it was something they both fought like Hell for. 

And then we get the second film. And in the second film, there’s obviously the ambiguity between Anck and Meela, and which one is which. Still, I think that for the MOST part the person we see in the film is more or less meant to be the person that Anck was in the past, given that there are traces of that in the pre-canon flashbacks, such as the opposition of Nefertiti VS Ankh su Namun, Pharaoh’s daughter VS the mistress, light feminine VS dark feminine, which then is repeated throughout film with Evie VS Anck/Meela, though to be fair, I’m not sure that the WRITERS were 100% sure where one began and the other ended. Which is probably a consequence of defining Anck in the first film mainly as “a goddess” and “gorgeous” the latter of which the film notes EVEN AFTER SHE’S DEAD, but I digress. The novelization plays with it a little bit, having Meela be the one to desert Imhotep, not Anck, running as her identities collapsed in on themselves. The one script I was able to get my hands on that seemed like it might be halfway legitimate rather than just a transcript said that he “realizes that she never loved him,” which seems to swing the opposite direction, being more in line with the Animated Series which would follow it where Anck is a villain whose “Love” for Imhotep is entirely opportunistic. 

Personally, even though I waffle back and forth on this one, I think that Meela is slightly more outwardly vampy than Anck, slightly more pragmatic (Anck was always pragmatic, don’t get me wrong, THAT’S shown by her asking Imhotep to leave so he could resurrect her, but it’s...DIFFERENT, in that I can’t see Meela stabbing herself in the stomach either.) But, we did get some solid OTP content in this film: 

THE LONGING. HOLY SHIT. Like, we know so little about their relationship pre-canon, but obviously, with the whole “Body paint” issue, I honestly don’t see how they would have had TOO much time available for sexytimes, and so you have this situation where they have to try to repress so much around each other when they love each other so much, and sometimes they fail and there are those LOOKS (which cues Nefertiti in on it, so bad move guys, but...#YouTried). I don’t think that they were chaste, per se, given that they were going to do SOMETHING in Anck’s bedchamber before Pharaoh arrived, but I think that their time together was limited and always fraught with the danger of being discovered.  

Which also ties into one of the major THINGS in both movies, which is that almost-but-not-quite-touch. There’s such an INTIMACY there, so much mutual pining. Even when they kiss and everything is ruined for them, look at how they do it. 

It’s so SLOW and longing, the way that Imhotep’s hands just kind of hover for a little while before going to her shoulders as he angles for the kiss. I mean, this is some REGENCY level pining here. Albeit. In Anck’s bedchamber. But still. 

Honestly, I think one of the biggest dick moves the second film did was use them as a foil for the O’Connell’s One True Love. Like, at the end of the first film, there are two love arcs, and for Imhotep to fulfill his and get Anck back, Evie has to be sacrificed, while for Rick to succeed (and save the world!), Imhotep’s gotta go. There’s no real way around this. 

With the second film, though, it comes down more to the two ladies, with BOTH of them having the chance to save their respective love interests. Evie, obviously, goes to save Rick, but Anck...wavers? Suddenly? And you could make an argument that Imhotep wavers himself, given that he chose fighting the Scorpion King for power rather than staying behind with her, but...still. After all these years? The novel explains it as Meela coming back and reasserting herself, but in the film proper it really doesn’t make as much sense, unless you go with the idea that she was never in love with Imhotep, as mentioned in the script above, or at the very least, that it was somehow LESSER to the love that Evie has for Rick, which switches the narrative of the first film from World-Destroying, Epic Love of the Undead VS World-Saving Love of the Living to Fake Love VS Real True Love (With the appropriate child to show it, while Imhotep and Anck can...obviously not produce children. Which I wouldn’t want to bring up normally but given how MUCH of Evie’s identity in the film is tied to her being Alex’s mom, Rick’s wife, and Seti’s daughter...). Which...I fundamentally can’t believe. I can’t believe that after everything the two of them did for each other, how IMPORTANT they both were, that it was just an infatuation. It adds a pointless element to Imhotep’s arc that doesn’t really make sense with what we’d seen before. The tragedy, for me, with their relationship was never that one loved the other more or less; it was that they lived in a world where it simply couldn’t happen, whereas Rick and Evie DID.

The quote that I’ve gone back to time and time again is, “For their love, they were willing to risk life itself,” THEIR. Always THEIR. No matter what, they felt strongly enough for one another that they were willing to do anything so long as it kept the other by their side, and they did it TOGETHER. 

Tl;dr: Iconic ship, iconic characters, 100/10 will stan for eternity

#the mummy #anck su namun #long post #xenowlsome

[ganymedesclock]

Your biromantic ace Lance headcanon... I just? Love it so much?? I’ve noticed people never headcanon the flirty people as ace, so I love ace!Lance.

It was honestly inspired because... watching things like Lance talking about Allura in his vlog, it betrays that there’s a pretty harsh divide between how he really experiences attraction and how he thinks he should seem attracted. Him gushing about how cool Allura is and then hastily correcting it to how he’s sure that Allura thinks he’s cool.

With that, and how much he talks about what seem to be kinda old-school action movies, I think it’s pretty clear where Lance gets this attitude of he should be the passive ladykiller who draws people to him when it’s much more Lance’s nature to just... adore someone. He’s really, at his heart, this sweet, sentimental guy and that part of his personality is really adorable when it comes out.

The idea that he’s acting about sexual attraction is, and I touched on this a bit in the post, was that s4e4 gave all of the paladins very fake, shallow reads of them that are fundamentally untrue. Shiro as a generic beauty with nothing important to say, Hunk as a bumbling buffoon, Pidge as someone just blathering off meaningless nonsense science, Allura Keith as an arrogant lone wolf who’s only isolated because he’s too cool for this teamwork thing.

The main conflict in s4e4 is this schism between the acted personas and the real people, and even before we really get into those personas, we discover something interesting about the team: all of them, including the charismatic Shiro and the stated diplomats Hunk and Allura, are positively wooden actors.

The only person who acts well, without any instruction, and consistently does the best the entire episode?

Lance.

And Lance’s persona stands out- because he’s framed as the “loverboy”, mister romance, flirtatious, and- at an incredibly superficial read, that seems like that’s true to character, in contrast to everybody else’s.

But it’s not.

Lance is not a sexual lover- and, it’s very clear that his persona is. He practically does a pole dance hanging from the Red Lion. This is- hedged in a g-rated show- blatant sex appeal.

Which sends a very interestingly complicated message. It tells us that casanova Lance isn’t real- but also, that Lance, out of the team, is the best at playing something he’s not. Allura sort of manages Keith’s role by being literally too frustrated to participate, making her seem aloof and stoic. Hunk has his role externally manipulated onto him. Shiro and Pidge are just stewing in discomfort the entire time and arguing with Worm Coran about what he’s expecting of them.

Lance is the only one who isn’t uncomfortable the entire time. And his input? Whatever he’s doing, the audience loves it. He’s basking in the approval of his fans, signing autographs, listening to the cheering.

At this point- that’s more important to Lance than the fact that he’s pretending to be something he’s not. And again, of everything they could’ve chosen to be Lance’s fake persona, they chose casanova.

So I guess the headcanon sprouted out of that: if Lance is faking his relationship with sexuality, then is it possible he actually doesn’t feel sexual attraction at all? Again, that’d be hard if his main role models he’s looking up to are old-school male action movie heroes- pretty much every macho man action hero is frequently defined by having lots and lots of sex with lots and lots of beautiful women.

Assuming Lance was exposed to this young, and going off the implication that Lance doesn’t really have a strong relationship with his own orientation as much as an expected orientation- that would do a lot of damage. It’d be fundamentally alienating. But it’s also hard to articulate an absence of that sort of thing- and I’m drawing a bit from my own experiences as an asexual person here. For the longest time, I simply assumed that sex was something I’d inevitably want once I got to the Right Place and the Right Person. Suddenly this desire would just, unfold. Clearly.

(Spoiler: it didn’t.)

The vlog also further highlights a lot of what s4e4 implies about Lance- because while Lance isn’t the only one to share things he’d rather not, Lance is the only one we see actively discussing the possibility of doctoring the footage afterwards.

Lance is very concerned about his image. How he’s seen, how he presents himself, this is not an effortless thing. Hell, Lance’s personal grooming routine, introduced as early as s1e2, even tells us that out of the team he’s the one that puts the most thought and effort into his appearance. It isn’t a joke- it’s establishing characterization.

The reason why s4e4 doesn’t have Lance struggling with being saddled with this fake extra personality is “Loverboy Lance” is a piece of baggage he’s had since the first episode.

Like- let’s go over Allura, who Lance actually does have a full-blown crush on at this point, even if I don’t think it’s reciprocated or, really going anywhere.

We see three phases of Lance meeting Allura. The first two fit very cohesively with what we know are Lance’s virtues, and who Lance is as a person. Allura startles awake, calls out for her father, and then starts collapsing.

Before anybody else processes this sudden turn of events, Lance panics- he runs over to Allura and catches her so she doesn’t hit the ground. In that instant, he has no idea who this person is and hasn’t really processed what she looks like- all he cares about is that she’s going to get hurt. It’s a very knee-jerk, heart-on-sleeve moment of compassion.

And this is who Lance is! He feels things, right there, and obviously- he’s a good guy who does good just because it’s the most natural reflexive thing to him. This is the same Lance who shoves Coran, then a relative stranger, away from a bomb, and draws Iverson’s attention and lets him say some very hurtful things to protect Pidge, who’s been mostly just rebuffing Lance’s friendship and criticizing him at that point.

He helps because it just plain doesn’t occur to him not to.

And then Allura looks up- and Lance sees her face for the first time and it strikes him he’s holding a beautiful woman in his arms.

This is not the face of a casanova. It’s, again, that kind of immediate emotions-first response; he’s sweating, his expression is nervous. This is where a crush he’s continued to harbor for four seasons now first takes root, but immediately, he doesn’t want to mess this up- and that’s when we see a very marked shift:

Loverboy appears.

In contrast to his first two reactions, this is unsympathetic, and it’s very fake. This is the facet of Lance that Allura first insults and then immediately loses patience with because he’s flirting rather than answering her questions or taking her seriously. Because as soon as Lance decides he values Allura’s opinion of him, he whips out this fake personality and puts it on.

Because for Lance’s action hero idols, this kind of smarmy attitude works without a hitch. He’s trying to be James Bond. But in the real world that isn’t pretty much an outright power fantasy, that doesn’t work- and if Lance had kept being the sincere, mildly-smitten but mostly worried person he shows time and time again when surprised, stressed, and focused on everything other than how other people see him, he’d have been fine.

This, I think, way more than Lance fearing his lack of a role, is the underlying implication behind his insecurity and his never hearing the virtues or stated “identity” of the Blue Lion.

It’s not that Lance’s role is undefined or he needs to find it. Because remember- the reason why Lance doesn’t hear Blue’s virtues is he interrupts Allura to push his own fantasy.

I can’t think he didn’t do that on purpose. All of the other paladins have their Lions described and then given to them- Hunk is clearly not expecting to be paired with Yellow after Allura describes his temperament. But Lance already knows which Lion is his- and he cuts off Allura before she tells him what the Blue Lion is like.

Which frankly? Sounds like the behavior of someone who’s scared about what he’s going to hear- rather than desperately hanging on Allura’s words to tell him who he is. Lance at the start of the show just plain doesn’t think he’s good enough. And Loverboy is just his poison of choice to defend himself- taking the superbly-confident fictional men he’s watched and making that a defensive mask he can brandish at any situation that makes him uncomfortable or insecure.

Think about Lance calling himself the “cool ninja sharpshooter” when- even establishing himself as a sniper, Lance overwhelmingly uses his scope and range on the battlefield to check on all his friends, quip and joke with them, and play support rather than stoically sneaking out and precisely headshotting the most important target. He’s a friendly mother hen with a gun. Impressive marksman? Yes. Stoic assassin as implied by “cool ninja”? Well... there’s a reason Keith thought that was a joke and it’s not because he doesn’t think Lance is good with a gun.

So the rough tenets of Loverboy is: he is very sexual, he’s always composed and cool in every situation, and everyone is supposed to like him. He’s James Bond.

But the thing about Loverboy, as spotlighted by s4e4, is it’s not real. It’s fake. And the further Lance progresses as a character the more he’s letting this mask crumble away, in huge chunks.

Lance’s moments of strength as a character- s3e1 and his connection with Keith, the instance that makes Red decide he’s worthy of connecting with, and s4e6 supporting Allura- come from a point where Lance’s reflexive compassion surges forth not only with intensity, but a sense of complete calm. It’s Lance affecting a soft, serious, benevolent demeanor.

Because the Blue Lion is the ultimate nurturer. The lover, not as smoldering libido, but that softly takes their beloved’s hands and sees all the universe in their eyes. It’s the kind of love that looks at someone and understands, and accepts their faults, and sees all of their strengths, whether that’s a friend or a crush.

Insecure, vulnerable, uncertain Lance attempts to seduce, attempts to brag, attempts to posture, and it’s a very selfish kind of love- it’s a love that attempts to make everything about him. “Uh, I mean, I’m sure Allura thinks I’m strong and cool and pretty”. And he’s not very good at it.

Confident, certain Lance, at the height of his power doing what he does best- he supports, he understands, he reads right through people and responds with compassion and empathy and a sense of surrendering to a kind of higher flow. And that’s not always serious! I would argue that the Lance we see utterly smitten in the vlog, gushing about man have you seen Allura she’s so great and wonderful and pretty- is his true self acting out. Again, it’s his nature to adore and his nature to support. There’s a reason this kid is a leg pilot through and through, and arguably moved to Red because Keith needed him there.

Since love is such a big deal to Lance, it’s thus not surprising that romance is stated to be something significant in his arc. And I think this whole thing of transcending the immature casanova archetype that he tries to hide behind- of becoming more certain in himself and embracing his true virtues- could tie very nicely to an arc with Lance beginning a relationship based on what his actual needs and wants are, rather than the expectations tied to the Loverboy persona.

Because the real relationships that Lance flourishes with are supportive ones. He heavily connects with Plaxum as an intelligent rebel and someone whose cause he supports and situation he’s concerned by before he ever finds out she’s a beautiful mermaid and thus someone he’s attracted to and might want to pull out Loverboy to deal with.

Now- reading Lance as a biromantic ace who’s been struggling with trying to live up to what can only be called a violently heterosexual ideal isn’t necessarily essential to this arc, but, I think it would fit very nicely here- especially because there’s this thing of when women have seemed totally into Lance, he never once makes any motion towards pursuing sex or even expresses interest therein. He verbally espouses a great desire for intimacy, both romantic and platonic, and I think that’s sincere, but Lance made a raunchy joke only once over the course of four seasons. 

#voltron legendary defender #vld #Lance #readmore #thirty-two paragraphs later...... #whoops I've got some feelings about Lance and romance #Anonymous

[peblezq]

Epiphany

PAIRING:

Older!Richie Tozier x Older!Eddie Kaspbrak

DESCRIPTION:

SPOILER ALERT! Do not read this if you haven't read the book “IT” by Stephen King! I don't wanna ruin the end for you if you don't already know how it ends.

This is my own version of the ending of “IT”, but in the movie universe. So basically, this is how I think IT: Chapter 2 (2019) should end… a whole year before it even comes out, lmao

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Hi! I deleted my fanfiction side-blog because I’m a self-concious moron, so I’m gonna post this on my main blog.

This idea has been floating in my head for a while now, so I wrote it down.

I wanted to write an alternate ending to the novel “IT” by Stephen King, but it’s in the movie universe; so The Losers Club are kids in the 1980s, and adults in the 2010s.

This is a rewrite of the second - and final - battle against Pennywise. I changed a lot of stuff about the battle to fit into the movie universe, however, I kept some references from the book and mini series scattered in here :)

I’m just gonna start right in the middle of the battle scene because there’s no need for me to write the entire book before this, lol.

Sorry if there’s any typos or grammatical errors. I only read through this once before posting, haha.

Story starts below the cut! I hope you guys like it :)

~Pebbs

PART I

The tunnels of the sewer were darker and murkier than they remembered. The rancid stench hit all of their senses like a hundred busses driving on the freeway and hitting a single tree. The blood and bruises on the five remaining losers are just the tip of the iceberg to the pain that they feel. The fear impaled each of them in every way that it possibly could. How did they conquer this thing before? How the hell did they beat IT?

Eddie can feel his lungs collapsing on him like he's left floundering in the ice-cold water of the Atlantic Ocean. He struggles to gasp for air as each loser is preoccupied with their own fear.

Just as Eddie is reaching for his inhaler, he feels a hand grab his with the plastic tube of placebo medication. He looks up, startled, but then quickly eases his tense shoulders as he makes eye contact with none other than Trashmouth Richie.

His brown doe eyes are still prominent and huge, even without his thick frames to magnify them. Blood drips when the corners of his lips lift ever so slightly, revealing a small, but powerful smile. Eddie’s heartbeat thumps so hard that he might have a stroke with the way his blood is flowing through his veins right now. He drops the puffer and folds his hands around Richie’s, returning the smile. All of the losers suddenly notice what's happening, and they all join in, holding hands and suddenly feeling less afraid than before.

The moment is stolen away when Pennywise swipes a large tentacle arm to separate them, throwing each loser to a separate wall in the room. Eddie sees Richie fall on his face, crushing his nose and wailing in pain. He sees his other friends, all grown up and vulnerable as they all scream and groan in pain. He sees his puffer, lying on the cold sewer floor not too far from Pennywise. He frowns, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration as he struggles to crawl over to it. If he thought he couldn't breathe before, he was truly kidding himself. His chest feels like three knives are stuck in various places. One in the back, one in the side, and one close to his heart. As he collapsed on the moist cement, he determined his ribs must be cracked from the sudden impact against the wall.

The gashes on his face start to sting as salty tears roll into them. He pushes himself up, his arms and legs shaking violently as he stumbles to a crouching position. He quickly determines he cannot walk to his desired location fast enough, so he settles for crawling again. He reaches out and grabs the cold, plastic and metal tube with fake medicine, ignoring the fact that the cut on his forearm is coating it in his thick red velvet of blood. Eddie stumbles to his feet, vaguely hearing his friend’s desperate screams for him to stop.

“Eddie!! Watch out!” Beverly croaks out in a hoarse scream. Eddie ducks, stumbling backwards as he does so whilst feeling a rush of air above him before standing up as straight as he can. He notices Pennywise's other arm swoops back in the opposite direction, but he doesn't even flinch. He just glares at the clown as he steps back, avoiding the impact before quickly pulling up his medicine in front of the clown from Hell. Pennywise frowns and starts to charge at Eddie, causing an uproar of screams behind him from his beloved friends.

“It's time to take your meds, asshole!” Eddie belts hoarsely as he squeezes the contents of the medication onto Pennywise's face. The clown stumbles backwards, holding ITs face as it shrieks out in pain. All the losers quiet themselves immediately as IT lowers its hands, revealing half of the clowns face to be melted and burnt. Pennywise sneers at Eddie, its melted mouth drooping as it does so.

Eddie’s sudden adrenaline rush allows him to punch the clown in the face, causing it to fly backwards. Eddie stumbles forward, ready to shoot more medicine on ITs face. Pennywise jumps up, grabbing Eddie as IT slowly grows and shifts into a half spider-mantis-clown nightmare. ITs jaw breaks open, pulling more and more as thousands of rows of sharp teeth reveal themselves to Eddie. The losers start to scream in horror again while Eddie's body goes limp as he catches a glimpse of ITs deadlights at the back of ITs throat.

Ben, Bill and Richie try to help Eddie, but the freeze as they too catch a glimpse of ITs deadlights. Beverly shields her eyes and searches around herself in a panic, trying to find some sort of weapon. The nail-gun that Mike provided them with glimmers in the corner of her eyes, and she quickly stumbles towards it. She picks it up, readies the trigger, and climbs the piping beside the creature. She pushes the end of the gun to its heart and pulls the trigger, causing it to screech out in pain.

The three men on the ground blink and stumble out of their trance whilst IT throws Eddie as it stumbles backwards. Eddie smacks against the cement wall, a loud crack echoes with the impact before he rolls onto the floor. Every loser hurries to his aid, falling on their knees as they gingerly check his pulse.

“Eddie!” Richie cautiously holds Eddie’s face as tears begin to cloud his vision. “Eddie Spaghetti…”

“Don't...call...me...that…” Eddie sputters out, violently coughing up blood to punctuate the end of his sentence. The four remaining losers can't help but smile in this bittersweet moment.

Eddie barely notices the others since his vision is slowly blacking out, only showing Richie’s face in the centre of his pinhole-vision. He attempts to smile at his friend, but it seems to distort Richie’s features, causing him to frown pitifully at Eddie.

“You...looked...better...with...glasses…” Eddie comments.

“And you look like shit,” Richie jokes. “You've seriously seen better days, my friend,” he adds, forcing his lips to form into a faint smile.

“Beep...beep…” Eddie starts coughing again, slightly leaning over to spit his blood away from his friend’s face. Eddie tries another smile, but he knows it looks crooked and forced. He leaves it anyways, willing to spend his remaining energy on this moment.

Richie’s breathing suddenly becomes shallow as the situation sinks in. His hands, still gingerly holding Eddie's face, starts to tremble. He suddenly becomes very aware of his close proximity to Eddie, and to his pounding heartbeat skipping occasionally. His fear builds up, but it's barely for the clown anymore. Richie does not want to lose Eddie. Not again. Not ever.

Richie acts impulsively, knowing that this could very possibly be the last chance he gets to do this. He leans over to close the gap between him and Eddie, locking lips with him. Eddie’s eyes widen for a moment before he gently closes them, leaning into the kiss as best as he can from lying on the ground. Richie smiles into the kiss as he tilts his head to deepen it without hurting Eddie too much.

Ben blinks, completely dumbfounded. He respectfully leans back to not invade their moment. Beverly and Bill lean back as well, but they smile endearingly after the initial shock eases away. Ben’s lips soon tug into a smile moments later.

Richie tastes his and Eddie’s blood in the kiss, but he doesn't care. Richie suddenly feels weak, trembling hands grab onto his hair, pulling him down even more. Eddie suddenly winces in pain, causing Richie to quickly peel away from Eddie.

“Sorry!” Richie blubbered out nervously, feeling like a child again.

“I've… wanted… to do that… for a long… time…” Eddie responded, ignoring Richie’s apology.

Eddie’s eyes started to close, but Richie wasn't having it. “No! No, goddammit, you are not dying on me today!” Richie belted. The three other losers notice Pennywise behind them, sluggishly stumbling towards them for another round.

“Don't…  be… afraid,” Eddie coughs, “and kill… that fucking… clown…” Eddie forces one last smile before letting out a long, slow breath.

“No, Eddie!” Richie yells.

...

“Ed's!” Richie tries again.

...

“Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie’s voice becomes quiet as Eddie doesn't respond. Eddie’s muscles have become slack, and his lips are parted ever so slightly. Richie blinks, and Eddie is thirteen again. His skin is smooth with no sign of ageing wrinkles, and his hair lush and full of life again. Richie is a child again, too. He’s suddenly wearing his glasses, and the sounds of his friends' voices are their voices from their childhood.

“Richie!” Bill yells from behind.

“Richie, its up!”

“It’s coming, Richie!”

Richie can't even decipher whose voice is who anymore as they scream for his help. He cradles Eddie’s face and whispers, “I've always loved you, Ed’s.”

Richie sluggishly stands up and turns around, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pulled into a thin line. He glares at Pennywise who still has a partially melted face from Eddie’s puffer. ‘Don't be afraid,’ Eddie’s voice echoes in Richie's head as he marches towards the demon clown, filled with anger and determination. The losers are not kids anymore, and they’re here to kill this clown.

“First, you kill Stanley,” Richie’s voice is dark, somewhat startling his friends as he marches in front of them. “Then you almost killed Mike,” Richie leans forward and picks up the axe that he dropped a long time ago. “And then you killed Eddie,” Pennywise tilts its head, smugly raising the un-melted eyebrow. “Now I'm gonna return the favour, asshole!” Richie lifts the axe and swings it, slicing off Pennywise’s arm in one swift motion.

“I'm gonna fucking kill you!” Richie screams as he continues swinging the axe at the clown. Black tar sprays out of each gash and floats up in the air above IT as the shapeshifting alien stumbles backwards. The other losers take swings on the clown themselves with pieces of pipery from the sewer floors, impaling it and smacking it with double the force each time.

They get IT to the ground, not showing mercy as they continue to attack the beast. All of them fight with a fire in their eyes that hasn't been lit since childhood.

Richie slices the chest cavity of Pennywise, barely flinching as its black blood sprays all over him. The four remaining losers drop their weapons and kneel beside the creature. They each claw into the monster, ignoring its shriek of pain as they dig deeper inside of IT. They hear cracking and slurping noises as they bury their hands deeper until they find the large cavity they were looking for. They grab the heart together and rip it out with their bare hands.

They keep pulling as they notice a cord attached to the heart, and they rip it right out, revealing the physical form of ITs deadlights. They throw the heart onto the cement and Ben stomps on it, causing it to burst out its gooey black tar blood.

They stare at it for a while as the children and Bill’s wife slowly float down. Bill hurries to her aid whilst Ben and Beverly head towards Eddie. Richie continues to glare at the corpse of the monster, feeling completely numb.

Suddenly, Ben’s desperate voice cries out, “I feel a pulse!”

PART II

They emerge from the depths of the sewers, squinting as they make contact with daylight. Bill adjusts his unconscious wife over his shoulder whilst Richie does the same with Eddie. They all continue to rush towards their cars and they immediately head to the hospital.

~°*°~

Bill’s wife is fine, but she hasn't spoken a word since the incident. The doctors say that the shock of the traumatic event has silenced her, and they can't tell if she will ever speak again.

News on Eddie hasn't come back yet, and Richie can't stop pacing. All he can think about is every moment in his teens after their summer fighting IT. He remembers how every day, the kids slowly drifted apart from each other. He remembers when Ben moved away, and how they rarely saw Mike since he was homeschooled, and how Stanley made new friends that didn't irritate him as much. Stan did still talk to them from time to time, and he said goodbye at the start of summer when they all moved away for college. Richie didn't go to college, he just moved to Los Angeles and auditioned for many talent agencies until he got accepted. He then auditioned for Saturday Night Live, and the rest is history now.

Richie sits down, nervously shaking his leg as he ponders how different his life could've been if he just picked up the damn phone and called his friends once in a while. The only friend he even saw between graduation and now was Bill. Richie never approached Bill, but he saw him at one or two movie premiers with his actress wife - who may be scarred for life now since she just had to come here instead of listening to Bill’s warnings to steer her away from danger.

‘Such a stubborn lady, but I guess that’s why Bill fell in love with her,’ Richie muses to himself as he rests his chin on his hands. His thighs feel like they might become numb if he keeps the pressure he’s using with his elbows right now. Richie pushes his hands further up his face, covering his features as he groans in pain. ‘I probably should've seen a doctor. Every-fucking-thing hurts.’

Richie starts thinking about his relationships - or rather, lack thereof - throughout his adult life. He dated one girl - an actress he worked on a rom-com with in his twenties - but that lasted for maybe a month because their relationship was too public. They were constantly pestered by paparazzi, and they rarely spent time with each other outside of their press tour. He realized that their relationship wasn't real when the buzz from their movie died down a bit. It was all an accidental publicity stunt on their parts. They parted ways on good terms, and they're still good friends to this day, still working on the odd film with each other now and again.

Richie only ever had hookups after that, and he didn't enjoy any of them. He sighs, realizing that all this time, there was one person he secretly wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but it took a battle with the demon clown from his past to have this epiphany.

‘I'm a grown-ass, middle-aged man, and I just now realized that I was suppressing romantic feelings for my childhood best friend? Fuck that. I am not gay!’ Richie groans again, rubbing circles in his temples and he closes his eyes. ‘I did kiss him though. That's...pretty gay.’

“Hey, you should really see a doctor.” Bev’s voice startles Richie, causing him to sit up and look over at her like a deer caught in headlights. ‘God, I hope I didn't say any of that out loud.’

“No, I'm fine,” Richie snaps. He awkwardly looks away, feeling guilty for snapping at her. “I'll leave the medical resources for the people who actually fucking need it.”

“There are plenty of doctors here, Rich. You're not going to stop anyone from saving Eddie,” Beverly sighs, sitting down beside him. “And you do need a doctor, too. You may not be dying at the moment, but you're clearly in a lot of pain.”

“I don't care,” Richie mutters, slouching as he glares at the opposite wall. “I'm not seeing a doctor until I know that Eddie is okay.”

Beverly sighs again, looking off to the side before looping her arm around Richie and resting her head against his shoulder. Richie glances at her over his shoulder and smiles at the floor. “You're hurting my neck,” Richie mumbles under his breath, his smirk more prominent now.

“I don't care. I'm going to sit here like this with you until we know that Eddie is okay,” Beverly replies with a bittersweet smile.

~°*°~

Richie finishes by tightening his tie. He briefly smiles at himself in the mirror. He turns around when he sees Beverly walk in the reflection behind him. He watches her as she examines him, smiling and patting down his shoulders.

“You look great, Rich,” Beverly compliments with a bashful smile.

“Thanks, Bev.”

She pauses. “They’re all waiting for you outside,” she says with a small smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie takes one last look at himself in the mirror, dusting his suit jacket and adjusting his tie one last time. “I always show up fashionably late to any event.”

“This isn’t just another one of your movie premieres, Rich,” Beverly pouts with a raised eyebrow. Richie sighs, suddenly becoming rather fond of his shoes.

“I hope we all continue to stay in touch after all of this...” Richie’s voice falls, and he clears his throat nervously.

“Me too,” Beverly replies, smiling brightly. Richie faces her, and she pulls him into a tight hug. He holds her just as tightly, suddenly feeling the tears overwhelm him.

“Dammit,” Richie mumbles as he wipes his tears over her shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone I cried.”

Beverly pulls back and wipes the second tear that escaped his eyes. “I promise.” He wipes her escaped tear and they give each other quick smiles before walking out of the room. Richie and Beverly meet Ben, Bill, BIll’s silent wife, and Mike in the hallway outside of the room. They all walk close together into the cathedral, and they meet the gazes of all the people who ever knew Eddie Kaspbrak. They all walk slowly, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone as they head for the front of the church. They try to ignore the whispers of people wondering who they all were and how the losers even knew Eddie. Many of them glared, knowing they must be the old friends he went off to visit - and who they believe caused his demise.

The five remaining losers - plus Bills wife - make it to the open casket. They all look down at Eddie’s features that have been touched up to look presentable. Richie’s eyes are stuck on the cleaned and stitched gash on Eddie’s cheek, remembering the blood no longer oozing from it as Eddie took his final breaths. His eyes then fell to his lips. They’re pale and cracked, and there’s no trace that they were ever coated in his own blood. Richie ponders that Eddie’s lips no longer look as soft as they felt when Eddie was still alive. Richie blinks when he realizes that his own tear hit Eddie’s nose, and he quickly started rubbing at his own face, trying to rid himself of them.

All of the losers joined hands and leaned in around Richie, protecting him like a forcefield. They all loved Eddie, but Richie’s love for Eddie was so much more, and every remaining loser learned that the moment Richie kissed him.

“Why did you have to die?” Was all that Richie was able to croak out that day before his best friend - his soulmate - was buried.

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