#the raccoon speech bubble is just. what i want him to know :')

[sheepispink]

A Pearl (1/2)

based on the song by mitski because i love mitski and hot traumatised men

Summary: Years of horrific memories still weigh down on him even as he promises to let you help him move on. All you want to do is help, but its not enough.

Part 2 Masterlist

tags: Leon Kennedy/Reader, Hurt/No comfort, Angst, fem! reader, mentions of re4 (no specific spoilers dw guys), mentions of ptsd, heart wrenching angst 😘

other notes: for clarification, the timeline goes— after the raccoon city incident, then he goes on the re4 mission, then it’s like the smaller missions like damnation etc. Towards the end and next chapter it’s basically vendetta. But theres no actual spoilers bcus tbh.. i haven’t watched any of the movies except id 💀

Ch1: Before it Ended

Like a dream is how you’d always describe it. His coworkers, your friends —anyone who had heard of his name— would come up to you, fawning over your pretty looks and lovely personality. They’d ask you every time, “How did it happen?” And always, you’d replay that memory in your head.

“It was winter,” You’d begin by recounting the snow that fell upon your face that day, the breeze that bristled your bones, and the way his hair looked frozen in place. You’d remember the laughter that bubbled in your throat when you saw that and how his lips curved ever so slightly for what you believe was the first time. Some of the soft strands of your hair had itched your skin; It was messy from having been shaken from the depths of sleep, and now your fingers tuck the rogue locks behind your ear. Eyes like a pretty lake, hair like wheat, with his random strands and dirty blonde roots you would soon learn to run your fingers through. He stood before you, only the dim porch light illuminating him on that winter night. “Why are you out so late?” You had asked him, your hand reaching forward to tug him into the warmth of your apartment. Little did you know that’d tug him into your life as well.

The refusal was clear; he shook his head, puffs of warm air escaping as he explained that he had something to tell you. His clothes were dirty, scratched in places, and his combat knife was only hastily put away—just work, he explains, desperate to leave a good impression on you. He had finished, and he was sure that now that he’d have time, he’d be free from the shackles of the years that would creep up on him. Cheeks flushed and Adam’s apple bobbing—you still aren’t sure whether the cold or a blush caused that. “I know I’m always gone, and we dont see each other as often anymore, but I swear- I’ve sorted everything out. I’ve fixed it.” He says his words rushed and mumbled, like his heart was spilling out then and there.“I know this is sudden- i know, but- i just.. Will you marry me?” He blurts out and every puff of air that leaves his mouth feels like another log added to the fire you didn’t know was built in your heart for him. A campfire, as you’d always describe it, is comforting and warm, the perfect reassurance in cold times. Perhaps you should’ve chosen something detrimental to life, but you preferred the romantic speech.

Everyone loved the tale as you did, enamoured with how you managed to get the stoic agent to fall head over heels with you. He’d walk over right then, slinging an arm around your waist, giving you a tender kiss to your cheek, and plastering a smirk on his lips. “Still telling everyone that story?” He’d tease as his fingertips gently rubbed your side, the silver band on his ring finger twinkling with the same light his wine glass did. “As usual.” You’d reply, that same bubble of happiness rising in your throat again as you tilted your head upwards, waiting for the small peck that always came.

Always.

A year would go by, and you’d been learning more and more about each other. Nothing seemed to be too big of a step for you. Opposing voices, loud huffs, doors slamming shut until the other would open it quietly, apologise, crawl into the warmth of their shared bed, and work things out with sweet reassurances. Work was tough; he was on more missions than ever, being considered one of the greatest men to serve your country. Warmth that you always described as adoration filled your heart whenever you heard that phrase; you couldn’t be more proud of him for it.

Besides, not even that could tear you down; nothing could break the delicate encasing that surrounded the pair of you. A greenhouse, you’d say, because it held all the things that grew only with a person’s own nurture and care. Like your relationship, crafted and melded by your kind words and your soft voice. It’s a shame greenhouses are made of glass.

Weekends were quieter now, something you had decided to take in stride; you decided to plan something nice for when he returned. The he anniversary he had missed too. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him now, resorting to spraying his cologne on the pillows in that cold bed to retrieve some imaginary warmth. Then it came—the day he’d return. Open arms is what you welcomed him with; he had always loved to hug you, and holding you close was a remedy for his mind, he’d say. But those words stopped forming after some time. You ushered him into the shared bed that night, your arms curling around him after the nice surprise you had set up earlier had gone well. Perfect, you had thought. The bed was still cold, though. You thought about bringing it up with him but decided against it; the warmth of his arms was enough for you.

You should’ve brought it up with him, for the time would have entered where he couldn’t handle it. He had awoken with a jolt, sweat trickling like beads down his temples. Eyes wide and chest pounding, he sat there with eyes darting for a threat and hands searching for yours. Your fingers would intertwine with his, warm against his cold palms, as you sat up beside him. It’d be over soon; thats what you promised— you’d do this together.

Nights like those started occurring more often than ever, until one day, he’s awoken with a sharp jolt again. His movements are much more frantic, his hands searching and searching.

Though, this time, it doesn’t find itself in yours.

It’s tightly wrapped around your neck, his mind screaming to murder you. Bloodshot eyes and prominent streaks of black down your arms— the horrors he had tried so desperately to push away— return to his mind. Your breath wont come. No sweet words, and he looks down to see his hand contaminated with that same murky colour. The sink of his chest feels like a knife as he sees your arm grab out at him, like they did everywhere he went. Those creatures who would grab him, claw at him, and still threatened to take his life. They had destroyed his mind instead.

But there is no mutant, no bloodshot eyes and no streaks on your skin. All he sees is what he’s done to you, his body weight pressing on you as his hand keeps a firm grip around your neck. Your mouth begs for air, denying the sweet reassurance he needed as he sees you turn pale, your eyes flickering with tears. There’s no threat in here; not even the cold breeze from the open window chills his bones. Nothing can hurt more than the desperation in your eyes as your hands claw—No—plead at him for relief. He immediately lets go, scrambling to the other end of the bed as he watches you pant, his heart filled with fear. Fear of himself. You quickly turn to him, mustering out your honeyed phrases through choked breaths. But they’re just letters dancing about, barely going near his ears in the walls he had built between the two of you. Ignorance is bliss, but he can’t break his gaze when he sees the deep streaks of scarlet he left on your neck. Frozen in regret and shame, you tentatively wrap your arms around him to comfort the pair of you. But he feels your tears on his neck; the fear you felt eats at his gut and his conscience. You had never felt so cold before.

The days he had left for missions were the worst nights of your life, you’d say, having been away from your heart for so long. But even as you see him drinking his morning coffee, those eye bags prominent, you think your heart might be buried in Spain, infected with the plagas of love that died out.

Unspoken was what had happened that night— a silent promise between the pair of you with small random affections to bandage up the wound he had inflicted. He was still going on the small missions, but they were shorter, and he was back to fill the bed every night. The flowers in the vase never died—a different shade, flower, or even scent every week. A different kind of love.

This continued for weeks, up until you were out with some friends, each talking about their love lives, which was always a topic between the three of you. One of them gushes about how their husband’s love language is gift-giving, describing each and every homemade affection they receive on the daily. Soon it gets around to your turn, and when you speak about his love language, physical touch comes to mind again. Whether it was playing with your hair, rubbing your hands as you walked in the cold, or leaning on you after hard days, he always wanted to be near you. Your mouth fails to respond; no words form yet no examples are recalled in your brain either. You laugh sheepishly, trying hard to wrack your head for something sweet he’s done, until you just laugh it off and talk about how you love him again.

The bed’s empty when you slip inside it; he hasn’t returned yet and he won’t be back for another hour or so. The ceiling accompanies you as you desperately try to remember an act of affection in the last few weeks. It’s only now that it finally hits you, like a tonne of bricks through your skull—

He’s been distancing himself from you.

Knowing that you get caught up in little things, he occupied your mind with flowers and sweet notes. Not once have you actually heard him say any of it or felt his touch, if not accidental. He sleeps at a distance at night, and even when you shuffle closer somehow, you wake up further apart than before. You havent had a meal with him in weeks and you haven’t actually heard that raspy voice you remember as he complains about his day. You cannot remember the last time you felt warmth, and you can’t remember when you last cried this hard.

You’re in the bathroom, wiping away the stray tears as you look at yourself in the mirror. A heavy ache that still scrapes against the walls of your heart, unsure if you feel better or worse after coming to terms with this. Every pump feels like it’s dragging you down instead of keeping you alive. The rush of blood is like-

The front door clicks open.

You almost freak out and you’re not even sure why you would. Why are you scared of this? Why are you suddenly scared of him? Your feet hurries you back to your shared bed, settling under the covers once more to try to play it off as just tiredness. You still can’t figure out why you’re doing all this or why you start to form excuses for your behaviour in your mind. He never does. So why would you? The footsteps draw closer; they’re just slightly heavy, much softer than when he wears his boots. You hear the bedroom door unclick and your shoulders tense with every second.

But you dont see him enter. Slow breathing and closed eyes— you’re even lying on your side as you pretend to be asleep.

————————————————————————

Leon breathes out a heavy sigh, his chest sinking to drain out all his exhaustion from today. There’s a rustle of clothing as he undresses, pulling on some random sweatpants and a spare shirt for the night. Why should he even care if its clean or not? He walks over to his side of the bed, rummaging around the bedside table for something. Then he pauses, his eyes catching onto something in his peripheral view. Tear stains?

You hear the creak on the bed as he leans half his weight on it, about to reach out to you. Your heart beats faster. Is it because you dont want to worry him with your tears, or are you afraid of him? You don’t know. His fingers brush your cheek ever so gently, his voice echoing out your name so, so softly.

“Hey.. you awake?” He asks, and even though your heart is melting into a little puddle so easily, some stubborn stick clogs your throat. His sigh fills the room again and he pulls the blanket over you, tucking it snugly over you before brushing the hair out of your face. Maybe he’s just tired these days, you think. He’s been through a lot after all; it explains all of it. Really, you shouldn’t have been so upset at all—his work and life are on an entirely different level for you.

You’re about to open your eyes, pretend you woke up, and give him a sleepy smile. Images of him giving you a tight hug and one hand rubbing the small of your back as he tells you to fall asleep again fills your mind.

Then he speaks again, the bed creaking as he steps back off of the bed, the warmth leaving as fast as it came. “She’s really knocked out.? Phew.. I do not want to deal with some stupid tears..” He mutters out, his raspy voice much lower and breathless—almost exasperated. A low groan leaves him as he dumps his work clothes somewhere. Then, the bed screams again as he lays his weight on it before he shuffles himself to the end of the bed. He looks back at the space between them, another huff of air leaving his lips.

“That’s good enough. I fucking hate being woken to push her away from me..” Eventually, his breathing evens out, and his shoulders are still tight and tense as his body relaxes into the bed. The night falls quieter, and your mind feels blank.

You don’t know when you fell asleep or if he saw your fresh tears when he woke that morning.

Next

#leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil 4 #re4 #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil fanfiction #re fanfic #resident evil 2 #fanfiction #angst #spent so long editing this 😭😭😭 pls like this guys #writers on tumblr #reader insert

[bowenoke]

Don't worry, I think Ghostbur's not going to be too lonely.

Inspired by this incredible post by @tommy-and-tubbo! (Thank you for letting me draw something based on it!)

#ghostbur #wilbur soot #As is normal: #tumblr gets it early cause i can reblog it in the morning if i want #i had a tough time with the colors but I think i wrangled them well enough! #tw caps #a lot of the speech bubbles are based on real tags and replies in that post #the ones that aren't are based on real things I've heard people say. just a fun tidbit. #the raccoon speech bubble is just. what i want him to know :') #craftie art

[rpd-rookie]

Okay, so I have a really dumb request for Leon that's been on my mind for a while now 😭

Could you please maybe write something where Leon and the reader are having sex and a zombie or something gets into the house and interrupts them?

I'll Find You in Therapy - Leon S. Kennedy x Reader (NSFW)

Author’s note: Sorry for taking so long. I wanted to write something good and original since it's a kind of trope I read many times. I hope you'll like it nevertheless.

Summary: Leon is escorting President Benford to Ivy University in Tall Oaks. But two unexpected things are going to happen, one definitely more pleasurable than the other.

Tagged: SMUT / RE6 Leon / Mention of Alcohol and Alcoholism / Age Difference / Gore and Violence

Leon had never been to college. But as he looked around him, a little impressed part of him wished he had. The ancient stone buildings and their huge windows. The large green courtyard and its beautiful clocktower in the middle. The brand-new football and tennis pitches. And, of course, the cheerful students chatting and having fun under the centenarian trees. The Police Academy had nothing that resembled that and that was just a small glimpse of what Ivy University had to offer.

He wasn’t here for tourism. Even though Tall Oaks was a charming city renown for her history and splendid architecture, it’s business that had brought him here. He was to escort and protect President Adam Benford during his short stay in this student town where he was expected to deliver a speech in front of a crowd of freshly-graduated student. Anyone (meaning everyone) who had seen the multitude of flyers and posters plastered all over campus was aware of that. And yet for a graduation day, the atmosphere seemed quite very calm. Leon remembered his graduation day, which was also the day he learned he had obtained his first job as a police officer in Raccoon City, and it had looked nothing like that. He remembered the excitement, the happiness, the boozy party with his classmates in some lousy pub on the edge of town, how each of his male friends had ended up completely wasted (including him) and trying to fuck the few also-quite-hammered girls from the academy. The night had turned into a wild competition, one Leon had not participated to but had somehow won, only to lose his girlfriend a few days later. Alcohol had always put him in trouble even as a student. Maybe that’s why they only served fruits juices and soft drinks in this school. “You know, Leon, adults can have some champagne.” The friendly voice of Adam Benford pulled Leon back to reality. “Even agents on duty, from time to time.” “I am afraid that wouldn’t be very professional, sir.” Leon replied very politely, declining the glass of champagne the president was handing to him. “It’s a graduation party, Leon. Be more festive and loosen up a little. I allow it. After all, what can happen to an old man like me in a crowd of students?” Leon smiled faintly as he finally accepted the drink. The first sip was weird on his tongue. He was not used to drink champagne or anything bubbly for that matter, always favoring a nice glass of whisky on rocks during long nights home or a few shots of vodka when he was a darker mood and willing to forget every ordeal haunting his mind quicker. “Come on, have a break. I am not going anywhere and I believe that even if I wanted to, those law teachers would not let me.” “I’ll look around if the place is secure.” “I said a break Leon!”

A break? Leon couldn’t picture the last time he truly had one. Even though the last two years had been quite routine and quite easy on him (at least, as easy as terrorist threats could be), he hadn’t really stopped working and travelling the country. In fact, he was pretty sure his last vacations dated back to 2011 right before being sent in the middle of a civil war in Eastern Slav Republic without breakfast and losing a new friend. JD, may you rest in peace wherever you are now. The memory of that time was like a pin in Leon’s brain that made him pinch the bridge of his nose and exhale loudly. Instinctively, he pulled out the silver flask he kept in the inside pocket of his leather jacket and unscrewed the cap to take a small mouthful of the strong amber liquid in it. But a voice stopped him before he could let it pour on his tongue. “You know, it’s forbidden to drink on campus.”

Leon looked at the person who had interrupted him with a slightly unimpressed yet pained expression. It was a young woman, way younger than him, probably a student in her early to mid-twenties, sitting on the windowsill with a large book in her laps. “Especially something so grandpa-ish. Whisky, am I right?” “Well, it’s either that or champagne.” “Yeah, I am not a fan of bubbles, either.” You said as you closed your book loudly. Psychology, huh? Interesting. “But I know a place where you can have something way better than whatever old man’s alcohol you have in there.” “That’s sweet of you, but I’m on duty.” He nodded with a polite smile before walking away. “Says the man who’s just drunk from a flask in a college hallway. Guess the president’s agents don’t beneficiate the best shrinks of the country.” Leon abruptly stopped only to turn around, definitely astonished by your inappropriate boldness. “Well, our shrinks are often former students from your college.” The sentence was meant as a barb but it clearly made you snickered and jump from your little rostrum. “So, since I’ll certainly become your shrink in a month or so. What do you say we bring our appointment forward and have it now? Talk about your obvious PTSD around shots of tequila.” Leon smirked, amused by the daring attitude of the young woman before him but also kind of interested in what she was obviously suggesting. After all, you were quite stunning and he would gladly blow some steam right now. That was of course if he understood your inuendo properly and if you were indeed suggesting sex. He hadn’t shared anyone’s bed in quite a while now. The last attempt at any sexual intimacy had been a couple of months ago, if not more, and it had been a total fiasco, so catastrophic the girl hadn’t even called him back. And who could blame her? After all, he had barely been capable of keeping a descent hard-on because of all the stressful professional things in his mind. “Let’s see if you deserve your diploma.”

You barely talked. But that was fine. Leon didn’t really want to talk and there was certainly no need to talk to do the things the little tartan scrunchie you had placed around the handle of the door to your dorm clearly alluded to. Instead, you poured each other few shots from a bottle of cheap tequila you kept hidden under your bed, sitting cross-legged on your mattress while enticing each other with snarky remarks that Leon found more sexy than hurtful (He looooved self-confident women who weren’t afraid to give him a piece of minds) until you were relaxed enough to let your bodies claim what they had come here for. “Let’s see if what we say about older men is true.” Your hasty hands pushed Leon flat on his back and he gasped, rather surprised by the quick initiative, when his whole body pressed against the soft though creaky bed. Then, you straddled him and immediately removed his jacket, his holsters that carried two hand guns (that you placed careful on your nightstand) to finally unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants. “You know what you want.” Leon chuckled as he watched you pull down his jeans with one very swift move. “Yes and I most certainly know where to look.” You let your hand crawl in his boxers and Leon shivered and hissed at the arousing yet quite cold sensation. “Easy with your cold hands, sweetheart.” You ignored Leon’s remark and wrapped your fingers round his soft shaft to stroke it and gauge it at the same time. Not huge but not tiny either. Should be perfect, especially when hard. And you didn’t want to wait. You slid Leon’s underwear down his thighs to reveal his virility that you suddenly kissed and licked as you crawled down his muscular body. “Someone’s in a hurry.” He hissed again before you grabbed his cock in your firm hand. “Easy, you little brat.” “I have a party to attend to. And I guess you do as well.” You retorted before you kissed the foreskin of Leon’s flaccid cock to tease him and make him understand you had no time for silly things especially sweet-talking. “Raah, fuck. Fine but don’t say I didn’t try to be a little sweet.” “It’s a one-time thing. It doesn’t have to be sweet.” “Damn, you kids sure know nothing about sex these days.” “I know enough to suck your cock.” You knelt more comfortably on the mattress and immediately started sucking the tip of his cock like a lollipop, rolling your tongue eagerly around it to taste the bitterness of his pre-cum-covered skin on your tongue while one of your hands found the base of his shaft to stroke it and make it harder in your warm mouth. “You certainly do.” Leon managed to hiss between his gritted teeth. You licked his penis with a grin before finally welcoming it entirely in your mouth with a lustful moan that forced a grunt out of Leon’s throat. “Goodness. It’s been a while since someone didn't sucked my cock so well” Leon confessed as he weaved his fingers in your soft hair, completely amazed by the pleasure you were giving his hardening sex right now. You didn’t reply but you were definitely a bit annoyed. Did he have to talk that much? You hollowed your cheeks and started bobbing your head hoping the sudden tightness would make him shut up a bit. It did and Leon cursed when he felt his tip brush the entrance of your throat. Instinctively, his hand in your hair clenched and he pushed himself deeper into your salivating mouth until you started gagging around him. The sound made his penis throb and he grabbed your head with both hands to force yourself deeper onto him. “That’s right. Take it.” His hips started moving to give a quicker pace and if you didn’t mind at first you began being bothered by it when you felt yourself slightly chocking around his cock. You pushed him away to take a breath and wipe the drool of your lips and chin. Leon laughed at your annoyed look. “What? You said no tenderness, right?” You shook your head, exasperated but amused and aroused at the same time. Guess, he could take the lead and be a player if he wanted to. You removed your drenched panties and

threw them onto the floor. Your could keep your summer dress. “Have you changed your mind, yet?” Leon asked as he tried to catch a glimpse of your naked pussy under your dress. “Nope.” You answered before eventually crawling up his body. “And you talk too much.” “Yeah. I have this weird habit.” “How can I finally make you shut up?” “I have an idea.” Leon raised a come-hither eyebrow and you smirked. You knew all too well what that meant. You approached your pussy from his face, slowly, very slowly until it almost brushed Leon’s awaiting lips. “Is that the idea you have in mind?” “You’re reading my mind, sweetheart.” Leon’s hand gently slapped your ass and he grabbed your cheeks to press your womanhood again his agape lips that were way too eager to finally meet your pussy. Leon kissed your folds and licked your slit to wet it even more than it already was to finally linger on your clit that he sucked eagerly, forcing a guttural crying moan out of your tightly sealed lips. Damn, that tongue! “You know what you’re doing.” You complimented. “You’re not my first rodeo, baby. Though you taste more delicious than others.” Leon chuckled before he eventually buried his tongue in your hole to fuck you with it. You cried out and clang to his soft hair, amazed by how good he was at tongue-fucking you. “Fuck!” Without realizing it you started undulating on top of Leon’s face, soaking his lips, chin and nose with your juices as the pleasure inside of you was growing to a point it was almost aching. Aching to burst. “I think I’m going to cum.” You confessed in a plaintive whisper. “Yeah?” Leon mumbled, his mouth and tongue still playing with your soaking pussy. You nodded furiously, your incoming orgasm making you a whimpering mess already. “Then cum for me, princess.” His order had a power over you you did not foresee and you immediately came on his face, screaming, shouting a bunch of ‘oh’ and ‘ah’ and ‘fuck’ until Leon commanded you to yell his name. “Leon, my name’s Leon. Say it!” “Leon! Fuck! Leon!” Your thighs tightened around his head and you grabbed the headboard of your bed until you climbed down softly of your high, the highest you had experienced in your life. Maybe older men were indeed better lays. “Damn!” You exhaled loudly, still amazed and dazed by your orgasm.

One last kiss on your clit made you shiver and you felt Leon gently push you away and lie you down on the mattress that suddenly felt as soft as cotton underneath you. “Hope you still got some energy for me.” Leon joked as he tapped his hard cock against your reddened lips, a cheeky gesture whose sole purpose was to overstimulate you. You knew it. “But first, tell me you got a condom.” You nodded towards your nightstand and Leon opened the drawer. He had no difficulty finding what he looked for and was not really surprised to find a couple of pink toys hidden next to the condoms. Maybe he’ll use that later. He opened the condom with his teeth, hastily but cautiously. He didn’t want to make a hole in it. Would not want to get some random girl pregnant, right? Then he unrolled it on his erected shaft and went back to tease your entrance. “Just take me already.” You grumbled, moving your hips vigorously against his cock, looking for a way to finally welcome it inside you. But Leon ignored your whim and bent over your body. “Stop whining or telling me what to do, sweetheart.” His face was so close to yours you could feel his hot breath caressing your lips. “Got it?” You nodded, surprised to see how docile he could make you. “I want you, Leon. Please…” He did not let you finish your sentence and caught your lips with a burning eagerness. He still tasted like you and you moaned in his mouth, wondering if he could also taste the bitterness of his precum still lingering on your tongue. His hand around his cock guided it the tip inside you until he finally pushed himself fully within your hole, making you grunt in his mouth. “Yes!” You whimpered and Leon growled between his gritted teeth as he felt himself sinking inside of you with a revolting easiness. “Fuck! Your pussy feels so tight, princess.”  “And your cock feels amazing. Bigger than I thought” You cleared your voice, an inexplicable mechanism to relax and allow his cock to fully enter and stretch you. “It’s not a frat-boy’s cock, am I right?” He chuckled, adjusting his position on top of you to admire how beautiful you were around his penis and how perfect you pussy was for him. “Damn. I don’t know if I’ll last long, princess.” Leon admitted with a shiver and you cried out when he suddenly pulled out to push himself back inside of you with one long exquisite move. “That’s alright. We’ll do it again.”  “When you’ll be my shrink?” He joked. “You’ll love my therapy.”

Those last words made Leon grin in a way he had never done in a while as he was genuinely happy to live such a carefree relaxing moment after so many stressful tiring months. He immediately took a nice pace that quickened after each new thrust and you let your hands caress his smooth sides, admiring his chest from his strong pectorals down to his divine abs and the chiselled V below his navel, finding him simply handsome. Then you nudged his rear with your ankles, pressing his hips closer to yours to take him deeper inside of you, and started moaning his name again, a strong wave of pleasure forming in your core again, ready to drown you one more time. “Leon!” His mouth met your neck and sucked on the thin skin with ardour. “Are you gonna cum for me again, princess?” That was too much to handle. “Yeah” You cried out, tears of bliss watering your eyes. “Cum for me then.” He didn’t have to say it twice. You dug your nails in his back and screamed loudly as your walls fluttered and clenched tightly around his thick cock. “That’s it, princess. Show me how good it feels to have an old man like me fuck your young pussy.” He said as you kept calling his name on and on, sending him closer to a most awaited orgasm that he eventually reached and let explode in you under the shape of a loud growled “fuck” and beads of white seed right inside of his condom. “Jesus!” Leon groaned between his gritted teeth as he thrust hard and deep in you for the last time, his sweaty forehead against yours, until his strokes became shallow and finally no more. Exhausted and breathless just like you, Leon watched you sink in the mattress trying to catch your breath. He knelt in between your tights, admiring your spent body covered in sweat with pride until he pulled out of you with a hiss, making you wince a little, and removed his condom that he knotted and unceremoniously placed on the torn wrapping on the nightstand.

“Fuck, I needed that.” Leon declared as he brushed his hair away from his face. “Though I might have one more load for you, sweetheart. That is of course if you want it.” You chuckled and slowly turned around to offer Leon a view of your ass, suggesting a new position. How could you refuse him after two incredible orgasms like that? “Be my guest.” Leon scoffed and he grabbed a new condom in the drawer but as soon as he put it between his teeth, the door to your dorm slammed open. You screamed, surprised and immediately pulled down your dress to cover your sex while Leon quickly pulled up his boxers and jeans to hide his cock. It was your roommate. “Fuck, Jess. Didn’t you see the scrunchie?!” You shouted, embarrassed but especially furious. Jess did not reply. Instead she stayed still in the room, her eyes atrociously reddened and empty, completely emotionless. She didn’t look well. “Jess?” You repeated as you sit on your bed. Jess looked at you and then at Leon. The void in her eyes turned black and what was emotionless became suddenly animalistic and hungry. And before you could say another thing, your roommate rushed towards Leon and you, her hands ready to grab you and claw you apart. You shouted but your scream was deadened by two gunshots that left you paralysed onto your bed. “What the fuck?!!” You yelled. Leon got up to have a look at Jess who was now lying bloody and dead on the floor. He had a gun in his hand. He was the one who had shot. “What did you do?” “A BOW.” He mumbled to himself. “What?” You didn’t understand what was going on, didn't know if you should cry, or scream or run. “You shot my roommate!” “That wasn’t your roommate. Not anymore.” “What the hell are you talking about?” “I have to find the president. Take this.” He handed you the spare gun he kept in his second holster. It was smaller and probably less powerful than the one he had in his hand but that would be enough to help you get away from campus. “Do you know how to use it?” He sounded so serious and so professional it could have been scary if the vision of your zombified roommate wasn't already making you tremble in fear. “I guess so but…” “Listen. I want you to get the hell away from here. Leave the city. You have 12 bullets. It’s not much so use them when you don’t have the choice and don’t stop running until your safe. Got it?” “What about you?” You asked as you watched Leon leave. “I’ll find you in therapy.”

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy one shot #leon kennedy x reader

[downondilaudid]

Reality Check

Spencer gets tired of readers reckless behavior, and finally gives her a little reality check.

Requested: Yes

Prompts: My life motto is fuck bitches, get money blow cash.(This is a inspired by a line from the song ODD by Hey Voilet) & That’s not even factual

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: SMUT, LIKE PRETTY ROUGH SHIT

“Talk is cheap, but actions are priceless.”

― Green Monk

You wouldn’t necessarily consider yourself reckless, per se, just a little wild. It was a surprising turn of events when you and Spencer ended up together, his teammates had thought you would be nothing more than a fling, someone to keep his bed warm while he was gone. Yet, you had been together for a year and a half now and had been living together for five months. 

Despite the two of you being opposites, you worked together beautifully, you easily complemented each other. Your wild nature allowed Spencer to relax, and enjoy the simplicities of life. While his sophisticated way of thinking forced you to use your head a little more, and consider the consequences of your actions. You loved Spencer, and he loved you, it was just hard sometimes, seeing the world through different eyes. 

“C’mon Spence, please?” You pleaded, your hand latching into his arm to try and get his attention. 

“I really need to work on this, Y/N” he mumbled absentmindedly, pulling his arm from your grasp, and writing something on a notepad. 

“Spencer! You’ve been working on this all night, please take a break.” You shifted so you were standing behind him, wrapping your arms around him, and laying your head lightly against his shoulder. 

He let out a mix between a sigh and a groan, and you could feel the vibration of it through his back. “I need to finish this, Y/N, watching you get drunk, and then having to drag you home, doesn’t sound like a break.” 

You scoffed, “suit yourself, babes.” You pushed off of him, leaving the room to go get ready.

The music pounded in your ears, and the bass rattled your drink against the table. You were already quite tipsy, but for the first time, you weren’t a happy drunk. You guess you were what people call, a sad drunk. 

You stirred your straw around your drink absentmindedly. “Y/N! Come dance with me! Please?” One of your friends questioned. 

Right as you opened your mouth to deny her, the unforgettable intro to Gas Pedal by Sage the Gemini sounded through the club. It was like a switch had been flipped inside you, suddenly you were on your feet. Grabbing her hand, you dragged her to the dance floor. 

She laughed at your change in mood, “yes!”

You laughed along, the both of you staring at each other and in sync screaming, “h-h-h-h-holy shit!” 

This was good, it was good for you to forget, to throw away all the problems of life, and get drunk off your ass. 

Which is how you, and your two girlfriends you had gone out with, ended up stumbling down the street, the club long forgotten. 

The three of you laughed and giggled, talking about anything and everything that popped into your drunken minds. 

“Ooooh! We should prank call someone.” Your friend shouted rather loudly. 

You laughed at her, “totally, we could prank Spencer, he was a dick to me earlier. He didn’t even want to come out with us!” You exclaimed, your hands gesturing wildly, and your speech slightly slurred. 

The girls gasped, both talking over each other, screaming about how boring and annoying he was. 

“I know!” You cried, pulling out your phone to call Spencer. 

You hit the call button, putting the phone on speaker, and hushing the giggling girls. 

“Y/N?” A voice asked through the phone. 

“How did you know it was me?” You asked, a look of bewilderment crossing your face. 

Your friends laughed harder, one of them reaching out to smack you on the arm, “you forgot to block your caller ID, idiot!”

“Oops” you giggled.

“Y/N, where the hell are you? It’s one in the morning.” Spencer questioned angrily. 

Another laugh escaped your mouth, at this point, everything just seemed funny to you. You looked around the dark street, nothing looked familiar. 

“Do you guys know where we are?” You questioned. 

A scoff came from the phone, “are you fucking serious?” 

The girls giggled one of them letting out a childish “oooh! Someone's in trouble!” The two of them turned leaning on each other as they walked away, letting you have your privacy. 

“We were at a club, I’m just not sure where we are now.” You giggled. 

“Which club?” Spencer questioned, his tone authoritative, like a disappointed parent.

You combed through your brain for the answer, “uh…”

Spencer let out a deep sigh, and you could imagine him running his hands angrily through his hair. “You can’t keep doing this, Y/N.” You could hear the sound of a car door opening, and you assumed he was coming to find you.

“Actually, I can do whatever I want, it’s my life. And, my life motto is fuck bitches, get money, blow cash.” Anger bubbled in your stomach, who did he think he was telling you what to do?

“Y/N look around you, what do you see?” Spencer asked, ignoring your comment.

“Hmm…” you trailed off, giggling before you finished your sentence, “my two bitches over there!” You hollered, pointing towards your friends, who laughed at your antics. “The fat stacks in my purse, and the club we just passed where I paid way too much for drinks!” 

“Y/N, I swear to God…” Spencer muttered. 

“C’mon Spence, let me live a little! What are the odds of something bad happening to me? Like, none. I’m with my friends, having fun. Something you seem to never do.” You snapped. 

Spencer let out an angry huff, “first of all, that’s not even factual, second, you need to tell me where you are. Or, I’m going to call Garcia, and have her track your phone.” 

Well, damn. Your eyes squinted, trying to read the blue street sign. “Uh… Briar, Brian Ln.” You laughed, “what the hell does Ln. mean?” 

“Dear God, lane, Y/N, it means lane,” Spencer grunted. You could tell he was tired of your shit.

Luckily for him, the cool night air nipping at your exposed skin began to sober you up. You heard the phone hang up, right as a familiar car pulled up next to you. 

You watched as a very pissed off Spencer leaned over from the driver's seat, pushing open the passenger side door. You looked to your friends, who were jokingly saluting you like it was the last time they would see you. “Good luck! We’re catching an Uber! Call us if you live!” 

You let out one last laugh before clambering messily into the car, roughly shutting the door, and buckling your seatbelt. Spencer remained quiet, his large hands gripping the steering wheel, and his knuckles turning white. You would be lying if you said the sight wasn’t hot, Spencer was always hot, but, angry Spencer was hot.

The rest of the ride was silent, despite your efforts to try and “jam to some music” Spencer smacked your hand away from the radio every time! It was like he wanted you to sit here in the horrible silence. 

As soon as the apartment door closed, the exhaustion washed over you, your limbs felt ten times heavier, and all you wanted to do was sleep. You immediately began your walk to the bathroom to lazily brush your teeth and wash the makeup from your face. 

“Oh, so we’re not going to talk about it?” Spencer said, his voice rising slightly. 

“Spencer, be quiet, it’s two in the morning.” You groaned out quietly, wiping the last of the makeup from your eyes so you didn’t look like a rabid raccoon. You threw the makeup wipe into the trash, moving past Spencer and into your bedroom.

An angry scoff left his mouth, “seriously?” He followed you out, his eyes glaring holes in the back of your head.

You rolled your eyes, stripping from your dress and opening Spencer’s closet to grab one of his old shirts. “Yes, what do you want me to say? Sorry for having fun?” You slipped the soft fabric over your head, turning around to crawl into bed. 

“Please, Spence, we’ll talk about it tomorrow, I’m drunk and tired.” You grumbled, your frazzled mind struggling to pull back the comforter correctly. 

Spencer sighed, your actions proving your words, he leaned over, roughly yanking down the comforter for you, “fine.” 

You closed your eyes, listening to the sounds of Spencer getting ready for bed. He slipped under the covers, turning his back to you. The only reason he did so was because he knew you couldn’t fall asleep unless you were facing him. Something in you wanted his face to be the last thing you saw at night and the first thing you saw in the morning. Despite his petty actions, the alcohol in your system put you to sleep anyways. 

                                                            … 

You groaned, rolling over onto your side, tugging the warm comforter with you. “Seriously?” Spencer questioned, yanking the comforter back, causing you to roll back onto your other side. 

“I need an Advil.” You muttered, squinting slightly to try and block out the sunlight streaming in through the window. 

“Why the hell did you get so drunk, Y/N?” He sat up slightly, the comforter sliding down his bare chest. 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “you think I remember? I’m just as clueless as you.” You pushed the comforter off your body, deciding to leave the warmth of the bed for a bathroom break and some Advil. 

Spencer followed suit, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, “Y/N you got lost, you were wandering the streets alone and drunk!” 

“I’m sorry, I guess.” You mumbled, your speech slightly distorted as you began brushing your teeth, fighting off the nauseous feeling in your stomach. 

“You guess? Y/N, you have no idea how worried I was!” Spencer cried, his hands gesturing wildly as he took a step closer to you. 

You set your toothbrush back in its stand, “mhm, the same worry I feel when you overwork yourself 24/7.” You remarked, turning to face him with your arms crossed over your chest. 

“That’s different, Y/N! You’re being idiotic, reckless, and immature. I was doing my job.” He spat, spinning on his heel and storming out of the bathroom. 

You sighed angrily, continuing to get ready. You knew he was right, you were being immature. Maybe you had let your friends sway you too much, you just wanted to forget Spencer for a night. You hated seeing him so stressed, it broke your heart, and now you were the cause of that stress. 

Walking out of the bathroom and into the living room you were met with the sight of Spencer once again hunched over his desk, pencil in hand. 

‘Wow, didn’t expect that one.” You muttered sarcastically, walking into the open kitchen, searching the cabinets for Advil. 

“Just like I should’ve known you would go out and get wasted with your friends. Seriously, Y/N, what’s it going to take for you to learn you have to grow up?” Spencer slammed his pencil down angrily. 

“Why are we even together if I’m too immature for you, huh?” You growled, watching as Spencer angrily stood from his chair, stalking over to you. 

Spencer’s hands found your hips, roughly shoving you against the counter, his body pressed against yours. 

You felt his hand trail up your back, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Because, unlike most guys,” his hand laced into your hair, giving it a sharp tug so you were forced to look up at him, “I know how to handle brats like you.” He finished. 

A cheeky smile grew on your face, this wasn’t how you imagined this conversation going, but you weren’t complaining. 

Spencer chuckled, “oh you think you’re so cute, don’t you?”

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, his condescending words casting a new atmosphere in the room. 

“You’re so quiet now, baby, you weren’t so quiet a minute ago.” His voice was low and as smooth as honey. 

A giggle left your mouth, “well, if I talk, will you shut me up?” 

Spencer grinned, his grip on your hair loosening, “I think I have a few ideas.” 

“I’d love to see them” your hands started a path up his chest, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. 

“I bet you would.” He said, and in an instant, he was gone, he had stepped back and was already walking back to the bedroom. 

“Spencer!” You cried, stomping after him like a child who had just been put in timeout. 

“Calm down, I’m just getting something.” He said, digging through his work satchel. 

You rolled your eyes, your bratty nature getting the best of you, “well you better hurry, or I’ll just take care of myself.” 

Your statement sent Spencer into a fit of laughs, and your face scrunched in confusion. “Y-you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” He said between laughs. 

“And you’re saying I’m the immature one?” At that moment, all you wanted was for him to fuck the shit out of you, but, apparently, that was not on his agenda.

He walked over to you, much like a predator would to its prey, slow and deliberately. “Just shut up and fu-shit!” You cried out in the middle of your sentence, as he roughly grabbed your arm, spinning you around and pinning you to the wall. 

“You’re telling me to shut up? All you’re doing is back talking, and I’m sick of it.” He growled out.

You squirmed in his grip, “then maybe you should stop being an asshole!” His hand grabbed your other arm, yanking it behind your back, “ow, Spencer! Jesus.” Then the faint clinking of metal filled your ears, and chills covered your arms as the cool metal clamped around your wrists.

“Did you just fucking cuff me, Spencer?” You screamed, trying to turn to face him. Surprisingly, he allowed you to, in fact, his hands moved to your hips, helping you.

But the second you faced him, his hand was wrapped around your neck, tight enough to restrict your speech. “I did, in case you can’t tell, you’ve been an absolute brat the past few days. And if you want to go out and act like a whore, I’ll treat you like one.” A primal look washed over his eyes, he wanted to break you, to humiliate you into submission. 

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. Spencer chuckled, “oh, you really are a whore. You like it when I choke you, huh?” 

His hand pushed back on your neck, shoving you back into the wall, watching as you collapsed into a heap on the floor. You gasped for air, squirming as the handcuffs dug uncomfortably into your back. 

Spencer’s hands went to his belt, unbuckling it quickly, “get on your knees, sweetheart.” His voice was soft and gentle, probably because he just choked you and threw you against a wall.

You complied, shifting onto your knees with minimal struggle, despite the restraint of your arms. “Good girl.” Spencer praised, pushing his pants and boxers down thighs, his hard cock springing free. 

Your eyes widened, you were shocked at how hard this had made him, sure, you had always had this Dom/Sub dynamic, but you had never been this rough before. 

His hand wrapped around his length, giving it a few good pumps. His other hand wrapped your hair in a makeshift ponytail, using it to drag your head towards his cock. “Open, baby.” 

Your jaw fell open, his cock filling your mouth, and your lips puckered around him, sucking lightly at the tip. “Oh no, baby, I’m going to fuck your mouth, and you’re going to sit there and let me.” 

He pushed down harder against the back of your head, driving his cock further past your lips. You squirmed, gagging slightly as he hit the back of your throat, you tried to pull back for some air, but his hand just pushed your head down further. “That's it, such a good whore” he groaned out.

You took shallow breaths in through your nose, trying your best to relax your throat to take him in further. Tears welled in your eyes, and you tried to pull back once more. Spencer let out a mix of a groan and a chuckle, “no, no, you wanted to act like a whore, you’re going to take it like a whore.” 

He pulled back, groaning as your tongue ran over the vein on the underside of his cock, “God, yes, there you go.” He pushed back in, this time pulling back faster, setting a rough pace. You gagged again, more tears falling down your face, mixing with the saliva escaping your mouth. 

“Shit, that feels good.” Your eyes flickered up to Spencer's face, just in time to watch him lean his head back with a groan. The sight alone caused you to moan around his cock. “Oh, God” he moaned, his hand pushing your head down one last time, as he stilled, his cock twitching lightly in your mouth, spilling his hot cum. 

The sight of him coming undone before you had you moaning around his shaft, milking his orgasm. “Fuck” he breathed out, his chest heaving. You swallowed around him, trying to control your gag reflex as he pulled your head off of his cock.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he said, his voice once again soft and soothing, his hands wrapped around your shoulders, helping you to your feet. 

“Please, Spencer, please” you begged. 

Then the soft tone in his voice was gone, replaced with a low condescending tone, “please, what? You want me to make breakfast? Or maybe you want me to go back to working?” 

“No, no, no, no” you begged, taking a shaky step towards him, “please, just fuck me.” Your voice came out harsher than expected, albeit still horse from the abuse on your throat. 

Spencer’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, a short scoff leaving his mouth, “wow, and here I was thinking you had learned your lesson.” 

“No!” You cried, before correcting yourself, “no, I mean no, please fuck me, I’m sorry.” You could feel your arousal soaking through your panties.

“Hmm… much better. Get on the bed.” He stated, turning towards the bed, he clambered on, laying down in the middle, his cock once again hard, and standing at attention.

“B-but, I can’t, not without my arms.” You whined you could only imagine how much of a mess you looked like, drool and tears all over your face, along with your disheveled hair. 

You watched as Spencer’s hand wrapped around his cock, stroking leisurely, “that’s a shame, I guess you won’t get to ride me.” He sent you a smirk, watching as you struggled to walk to the bed, the bastard was enjoying this so much. He was addicted to the sight of you, no longer reckless, but more wrecked. Completely at his will. 

You fell face forward onto the bed, squirming to try and climb onto it. “How cute.” Spencer voiced, sitting up slightly, his hands wrapped around your biceps, and in one swift tug, he had pulled you onto the bed. “There you go.”

His hands helped you onto your knees, helping you to straddle him. He pulled your panties to the side with one hand, the other spreading your wetness around your folds. He hummed in approval, “almost seems like you’re enjoying this” he teased. 

You whined at the friction, your hips grinding down against his hand. He pulled his hand back, reaching down to grab his cock. He lined it up with your entrance, slipping the head in. You both groaned at the feeling, your head falling back in pure bliss. His hands moved to your hips, yanking you down fully onto his length. 

“Oh, God, fuck yes.” You moaned, your head leaning forward this time, your hair falling in your face. 

Spencer’s hands left your hips, folding behind his head, “if you want to cum so bad, you can do it yourself.” 

You swear your jaw fell to the floor, and the tears that once filled your eyes came flooding back. “No, please, Spence, please fuck me, please.” Despite your words, your hips began to rock into his, lifting slightly only to crash back down on his cock. 

He groaned lightly, his eyes closing in pleasure, “you were acting like a whore, you’ll cum like a whore.” 

“Ugh, shit.” You moaned out, your hips working faster. 

“Yes, baby, there you go. Make yourself cum on my cock.” Spencer said through gritted teeth.

Your thighs began to burn, and you knew you couldn’t carry on much longer. You quickened your pace, desperately chasing your orgasm. 

“Fuck, such a good whore, my little whore.” Spencer praised, his voice strained with lust. 

The burning became too much, and exhaustion hit your body like a train. You collapsed forward, burying your face in Spencer’s neck. “Please, fuck me, please, Spence. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I promise.” You sobbed, your fresh tears falling onto his shoulder. 

“Alright, baby, it’s okay.” He unfolded his hands from behind his head, running them up and down your back soothingly. His hands ran down to your hips, lifting you off of him. “C’mon baby, we’re not done yet, I know you can take it.” He cooed softly.

You pulled your head back, biting down harshly on your lip, you nodded your head, not trusting your voice. “You’re such a pretty girl, and all for me,” Spencer said, his hand coming up to trail over your face affectionately, and you subconsciously leaned into his touch. 

“Okay, up.” He said, landing a soft tap to your backside. You giggled lightly. He helped you off of him, and before you could relish in how gentle he was, it was gone. He shoved your face forward into the bed, and you let out a sharp yelp. 

The low gravelly tone was back in his voice as he spoke, “You’re such a pathetic little mess for me.” He had moved behind you, his hard cock grinding against your clothed ass.

You turned your face to the side so you could breathe, muttering out a, “please, Spencer, I won’t do it again, I promise.”

His finger hooked in your panties, pulling them to the side, and with one swift motion, he had slammed his cock into you. You screeched, eyes crossing, and mouth falling open. “Fuck, yes! Fuck, me.”

Spencer’s pace was relentless, pounding into you, skin slapping against skin obscenely. He practically growled from behind you, and his hand reached up, latching onto the handcuffs. He pulled you back onto him with each thrust. 

You yelped, your wrists ached, and they would definitely be bruised, but the pleasure was too good to tell him to stop. Plus, you doubted he would listen. “Fuck, fuck, Spencer.” You muttered, the tension building in your stomach. 

“C-can I cum, please? Please, please?” You begged, drool sliding from the corner of your mouth. 

“Cum, cum, whore,” Spencer demanded. 

You let out a loud cry, panting as your orgasm coursed through you. Your thighs clamped together, and you cunt clenched around Spencer’s cock. Your back arched further, pressing your breasts into the mattress. 

Spencer continued his pace, crashing into you with everything he had. “F-fuck, shit, Y/N, so good.” He stuttered. 

At this point you were an incoherent mess, your mind was clouded, all you could focus on was the feeling of Spencer’s cock dragging against your walls. 

“Spence, please, I won’t do it again, I promise.” You begged, you couldn’t tell if you were begging him to stop or continue. 

He chuckled through a groan, “your right, you won’t do it again,” one of his hands reached around, placing itself on your stomach. He could feel the bulge his cock created every time he thrust into you, “you won’t do it again, because I’m going to cum in you.” 

The one-sentence had you spasming around his cock again, moans, and whimpers leaving your mouth. “You won’t be able to go out and drink with your stupid friends if you’re nine months pregnant, bitch.” He gritted out, finally stilling inside you, letting his cum fill you up.

The feeling alone sent you into one last orgasm, your body trembling, and a constant flow of tears cascading down your face.

You knew this wasn’t healthy, you couldn’t make up like this. He was so right, you were being childish and immature. Orgasming inside you was almost his way of telling you you’re not a child, you’re a woman, and you need to act like one. It was on its own, a reality check.

Spencer gave you a few more gentle thrusts, before pulling out, moving quickly off the bed. 

You didn’t dare try and move, your body ached, and your wrists had been rubbed raw. Your headache from earlier was back, this time twice as strong, and you groaned at the pain.

“Shh… baby, don’t move.” Spencer was at your side in an instant. You vaguely registered the clinking of metal and the freeing of your wrists. 

You whimpered as he slathered lotion on your sore wrists, massaging them gently. When he was done you giggled deliriously to yourself, it was moments like these you cherished. Such moments of utter vulnerability and trust that would only be shared between the two of you. 

He left once again, and you slowly rolled onto your back, letting your eyes close momentarily.

Spencer came back shortly, walking back over to the bed. He placed a kiss on your forehead, watching as your eyes fluttered open, “hi” you mumbled. 

Spencer laughed, “hi” he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. “C’mon” he mumbled.

One of his arms hooked under your knees, the other around your back, you got the idea, quickly wrapping your weak arms around his neck. He lifted you up, carrying you bridal style into the bathroom. Upon entering you had noticed he already drew a bath, and a smile crept onto your face. 

“Here, sweetheart.” He set you down on the toilet, helping you out of your shirt, and pulling off your ruined underwear. He helped you up, holding onto you as you stepped into the water. 

You got yourself situated, watching as he stripped from his clothes to join you. You scooted forward, allowing space for him to slip in the bath behind you. 

He smiled at your actions, climbing in carefully, he settled behind you, his arms wrapping around you comfortingly. You sighed peacefully, nuzzling into his chest. “I’m sorry if I was too rough with you” he muttered into your hair.

You giggled lightly, “no, I deserved it.” You sank deeper into the water, allowing the warmth to soothe your muscles and the pounding in your head. 

“No, Y/N, you were just trying to help me relax,” Spencer said sympathetically.

“Mhm, and I ended up doing the exact opposite, I’m sorry, Spence. I just wanted to forget about you, I can’t stand to see you so stressed.” You turned slightly so you could look at him.

“How about this, you don’t drink so heavily next time, and I’ll take more breaks from work?” Spencer debated, one of his eyebrows raised in question. 

You let out a giggle at his expression, leaning back to press a kiss to his perfect lips, “sounds like a deal to me. Plus, who knows when I’ll be able to drink again?” You teased, alluding to the fact that he had come inside you. 

Spencer laughed, his arms wrapping loosely around your stomach, “there’s no one I’d rather have carry my child than you.” He ended his statement with a lasting kiss to your lips, pulling back, only to pepper more kisses on your face.

#criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminalminds #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencerreid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #matthew gray gubler #i need holy water #please take me to church

[ninnodesu]

Trashpanda

I know I said I was gonna use Lester as my smutfic labrat but I listened to “Jenny” by Studio Killers and this kind of happened.

Genre: Fluff and love wei.

TW: -  Beauregard is an asshole - Lester be poking a cadaver like Lester does

He found you crying under a tree not far from the house his twin brothers shared a small walk from the city center. 

“Trashpanda?”, He used the nickname he had given you when you told him it was a common nickname for raccoons. “Trashpanda, you’re cryin’...”, he kneeled down in front of you and took your hands away from your face. “Whassa matter?”, he looked worried.

You just glanced over to their house.

Bo. Fucking Bo.

“Don’ listen’ to ‘im.”, He knew right away that Bo had been his usual assholish self.  He’d heard him belittling you before, straight up verbally abusing you several times. But he knew you stuck around through the years because you were protective of Vincent, and the fact that you and him quickly became best friends from a young age.

He was sitting under a tree, poking at a dead deer. “Whatcha doing?”, you had come up behind him one day when you saw him and got genuinely curious at what had him so occupied. When he had turned to you, he started bubbling and babbling on about the animal. And you stayed, listening to him.

He was only eight at the time, but knew a lot already.

Four years later, he was sitting on his porch polishing some bones. You plopped down in front of him and just watched him, him babbling on and on about the animal he thought the bones had belonged to. You loved just watching him, listening to him.

Two years after that, you both were just laying in the grass, ignoring Bo’s rage rave in the house, blocking him out. He was probably yelling at Vincent about something, but you didn’t care. Lester didn’t care.  You were happy, because you liked listening to Lester babble on about his hobbies, and interests, and what he had found in the forest during the day. You could relax around him.

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

He was always alone in his life, during school, his parents paid more attention to his older twin brothers, sometimes forgetting he even existed. But with you, he was happy. The only light in his life. And he knew from that first day you stayed to listen to his rambling that he wouldn’t let you go.

You were his best friend, his light, his reason to smile and he’d loved you from day one. Yet, he never told you. You’ve been close since you were seven and eight years old. He’d loved you from the day he grew to the age of knowing what falling in love meant. But he’d never told you. He was scared he would lose you. That his feelings for you would ruin everything you had between each other. So he kept quiet. Relishing the moments you spent close to him instead. Keeping you out of Bo’s reach when he was in a furious mood, Vincent was never a problem, Vincent knew you meant him good and left you alone. But god, did Lester love you. 

“What did he say to ya’?”, he cupped your cheeks and tilted your head up to look him in the eyes while swiping a few tears away from your eyes.

“H-he told me…”, you started, hiccuping on your own words, “he… he told me… I-... That I…”, you couldn’t finish the sentence, opting to give a heartbreaking look down to the town rigged by wax dolls. And Lester understood what you meant. 

Something had set Bo off to the point where he threatened to abuse Vincent into making you a wax sculpture, Bo knew you had no real reason to stay alive, at least not for him. He embraced you, tucking your head into where his neck met his shoulder, not wanting you to look at the town. “I won’t let’im.”, he said quietly. You shook against him, you were so scared.  “I’ll make sure of it.”, he cooed into your temple. 

He was always so sweet with you, so tender, like you were made of the most fragile of glass and would shatter under his touch.  To him; you were.

He took you home to his own cottage a bit from town where he made you something to drink and sat down next to you on the couch. When you looked up at him from your drink, his heart jumped. And something snapped in him. He’d decided. He was telling you today. He was telling you now.

That way, Bo would physically have to go through him if he wanted Vincent to turn you to a sculpture. Or if Bo himself wanted to kill you.

“Hey, Trashpanda…”, he started slowly. You looked at him. “Yeah, Les?”, your voice, always so soft in his ears, even if you had cried your vocal cords to shred. “Forget ‘im.”, he scooted closer to you on the couch and cupped your cheeks again. “I… uhm… I don’t know how to say this…”, he was so nervous. “You’re my best friend, but…”, his thumb stroked your cheekbones as he looked into your eyes. “We sh-”, he took a deep breath to steady his speech, his heart hammering in his chest. “We... uhm... should be lovers instead.”, he swallowed thickly, waiting for your response. 

Then your lips turned into the first smile he’d seen from you today as you rose towards his face, stopping right before your lips met his and one single word escaped them, your breathing tickling across his lips.

“Finally.”, you said as he felt your lips meet his.

#lester sinclair #house of wax #sinclair #lester one shot #Lester fanfiction

[babysizedfics]

Little Accidents, Big Developments

Chapter 5: A Little Reconciliation

[This is an age regression story]

Chapter Summary: Roman mollycoddles his brother, Patton makes a suggestion, Logan is perceptive, and Virgil is brave.

Chapter word count: 8,500

Other chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / bonus

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Content warning: This chapter addresses (and resolves) some negative self-talk with regards to age regression, as well as alluding to cyberbullying. Please proceed with caution if you are sensitive to either of these topics.

Also, there is some swearing at the start - what else would you expect from adult Roman and Virgil?

oOo

Roman marched up the stairs armed with cookies, milk, and fierce determination.

The events of the previous day had left him wallowing in regret all night, and he was tired of it. No matter how much his caregivers had both made a significant dent in the cloud of guilt that fogged his mind, he could not stop replaying his own laughter in his head. He had been awful to Virgil the day before, and Roman had known he could not truly feel at ease until he had apologised to him properly and earned his little brother’s forgiveness.

He had been prepared to partake in all manner of valiant acts to prove his loyalty; he was willing to slay the Dragon Witch in Virgil’s name, to erect a statue in his likeness and honour, even to let Virgil get the first pick on movie nights for a whole month.

He had said as much to Virgil in the kitchen that morning. In response, Virgil had nodded, said “It’s cool,” and then left the room.

It’s cool?! Roman was quite frankly appalled by the lack of dramatic flair. Where were the tears? The arguments? The emotionally-overwhelmed collapse into Roman’s waiting arms? It had not gone as he had rehearsed in the mirror at all.

When Roman complained about this to Logan, the logical side had; 1) asked why Roman wanted Virgil to cry, yell, and/or faint, 2) reminded him that Virgil had forgiven him and had clearly done so in whatever way he deemed fit, and 3) told Roman to stop being so dramatic.

Needless to say, Roman was no longer on speaking terms with Logan.

Never one to give up in the face of a challenge, Roman had found Virgil in the living room and apologised again (an abridged version of his speech this time around). He received a small smile and thumbs up in return before Virgil went back to scrolling on his phone silently.

Once again, Roman was surprised. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be forgiven, but it had been far too easy. It was not satisfying. And so he continued to apologise throughout the morning whenever he saw Virgil - which incidentally happened a lot since Roman sought him out constantly.

It was around the fourth apology that Virgil had stopped smiling and nodding and instead simply rolled his eyes or walked past Roman without a word. Roman was wont to call it rude, but he couldn’t really comment on it given his behaviour a day before. The logical conclusion was that Roman’s courageous offers were simply not pleasing to Virgil.

Upon review, Roman begrudgingly accepted that Virgil wouldn’t necessarily care much about an imaginary monster being defeated for the hundredth time, or for a statue of himself given how self-conscious he was. As for the movie nights, Roman didn’t necessarily mind that he would still have the first pick on the films, so that really wasn’t worth complaining about. He realised he had to make his repentance more personal.

And what was more personal to Virgil than his littlespace? The boy adored it when Logan and Patton took care of him so (against all instincts) Roman resolved to prove himself through caregiving. As uncomfortable as it had made him when he had attempted caregiving all those weeks ago, it seemed the most effective course of action. And wouldn’t the fact that Virgil knew he didn’t enjoy it just prove Roman’s point even more? That he was willing to go above and beyond to show Virgil how much he cared about him, despite his own discomfort!

He had waited for Logan to disappear from the kitchen to load some cookies onto a tray, along with one of Virgil’s sippy cups full to the brim with almond milk. Now, standing outside Virgil’s room, Roman smothered the inkling of dread in his stomach and rapped on the door heartily.

‘Oh, Virgil,’ he sang, ‘Will you grant me entry to your kingdom?’

There was quiet for a moment and then, muffled through the wood: ‘Only if you promise not to apologise again.’

‘Damn…’ Roman whispered to himself, taking a moment to reconsider his plan. Well, he could still practice it without technically apologising. Years of improv work hadn’t exactly taught him nothing of adapting to unexpected situations. ‘All right, I promise,’ he yelled back confidently.

‘Fine,’ Virgil groaned and Roman lowered the door handle with his hip, being careful not to jostle the tray in his hands too much.

‘Greetings, Grumpy Space Princess!’ Roman called as he waltzed into the room with a wide grin.

Virgil was lying upside down on his bed with his head hanging off of the end, his Nintendo Switch held up in front of him. ‘What’s up, Princess Bubble-head?’

Roman smiled, appreciative that Virgil was a truly worthy opponent when it came to the Great Nickname Games. Though he did not let himself dwell on that for long and internally shook himself into his role, taking heavy inspiration from Patton.

‘Nothing much, kiddo,’ he said gleefully. ‘Just thought you might want a little snack!’

‘Kiddo?’ Virgil repeated, slowly lowering the game console from his eyes. Though they were upside down, Roman clearly noted the suspicion on Virgil’s features.

Roman continued smiling regardless, walking over to the bed. ‘How’s milk and cookies sound, Vee?’

‘But we haven’t had lunch yet.’

‘Yeah, don’t tell Logan,’ Roman whispered with a conspiratorial wink

‘Is this a trick?’ Virgil immediately asked. He squinted at Roman in suspicion. ‘What did you put in the cookies?’

‘Absolutely nothing and I resent the question,’ Roman couldn’t help but gasp in offence. As if he would stoop so low as to… what, poison Virgil? He had half a mind to turn back and eat the cookies himself. If only he weren’t utterly desperate for Virgil’s forgiveness.

‘Right, no, yeah,’ Virgil hurriedly backtracked, seeming humbled. ‘Sorry.’ Then the younger side sat up and spun his butt on the bed so that he faced Roman with his legs crossed. ‘Do you wanna…’ He indicated the other side of the bed in invitation.

Roman beamed. Clearly, this was the go-ahead for his plan.

‘Thanks, Stormcloud!’ He settled onto the bed beside Virgil, placing the tray in front of them both.

‘Thanks yourself for the cookies,’ Virgil smiled meekly. His gaze trailed over to the sippy cup on the tray and his eyebrows furrowed a little.

‘Anything wrong, sw-sport?’ Roman asked, cursing himself for chickening out at the last second. He had meant to call Virgil “sweetheart” as Patton so often did. Though while he was no stranger to using the nickname during courtships, it felt strange to call Virgil by it. Still, he had a role to fill and forgiveness to earn, so he couldn’t afford another slip-up like that again.

‘Nah, it’s cool,’ Virgil muttered and reached for the sippy cup. His movements seemed halted and his eyes briefly darted between the cup and Roman for a second before he sheepishly sipped at it.

Those words again: It’s cool. They infuriated Roman! But he took a steadying breath and pushed his irritation down. He had a baby to coax out, and anger would surely be counterproductive.

He reached forward for one of the cookies and snapped it in half, then held one piece up in front of Virgil with a smile.

Virgil frowned and lowered his sippy cup from his lips. ‘You wanna share one?’

‘No, silly!’ Roman giggled, putting all of the energy he usually observed in Papa Patton into his tone. ‘Are you ready?’

‘Ready for what?’

‘Here comes the cookie train!’ Roman sang, slowly pushing the cookie forward towards Virgil’s mouth. ‘Chugga chugga choo choo!’

Virgil’s eyes widened and his free hand flew up to grab Roman’s wrist before he had a chance to press the cookie to his lips. ‘I can feed myself!’

‘Oh…’ So apparently that technique wasn’t the way to go about it. ‘Apologies,’ Roman said. He pulled the cookie piece back and shoved it between his lips.

Virgil sighed quietly and reached for the other half of the cookie. He threw it into his mouth and munched on it as he pulled his Switch into his lap, resuming the game.

Meanwhile, Roman chewed thoughtfully. Perhaps Virgil wasn’t up for a baby headspace but would rather be a young child who was still able to feed himself. Though it was uncommon for him to be in a comparatively older regressed headspace, it wasn’t unheard of. And if Virgil was not comfortable with Roman feeding him, it didn’t automatically have to be the end of his plan. But what could Roman do to make it easier? What exactly was it that Patton did differently to be able to make Virgil regress in an instant?

Roman thought back to all the times he had witnessed it happening, quickly noticing a pattern. Patton always complimented Virgil (usually by calling him “cute” or “pretty” or “my little sweet and sour dumpling”) and touched him in some way (either with a nose boop or gentle tickles or head strokes). Roman would be a fool not to apply this knowledge, and a prince was no fool.

He decided to go about a subtle route, not wanting to startle Virgil again as that would probably hinder his regression.

‘Oh, that looks like a cute game,’ Roman said casually, pointing at the console balanced on Virgil’s knee.

‘You don’t know this one?’ Virgil asked, sounding surprised. He played with one hand as his other gripped the sippy cup.

Roman leaned closer, observing the colourful, animalistic characters who walked aimlessly around what appeared to be an island resort.

‘Ohh, is this the one with the capitalist raccoon who forces you to labour all day then takes all of your money?’

Virgil snorted. ‘He’s a tanuki, not a racoon. But yeah, essentially,’ he shrugged and tipped the sippy cup up to his lips.

Roman scooted closer on the mattress, trying to initiate casual contact. His thigh brushed Virgil’s and the other didn’t seem to mind it. With an internal hurrah, Roman initiated part two of his plan B.

‘Aw, is that you?’ he asked in a slight baby-talk voice, pointing at the chibi character on the screen. They had lilac hair and were sporting a rather intricate gothic dress. (For such a basic character design Roman was massively impressed by the attention to detail on the costume. He resolved to investigate it later as he had a job to do at the present moment.)

‘Mhm,’ Virgil hummed through a mouthful of milk then swallowed, ‘that’s me.’ He twiddled the joystick so that the character did a little spin.

‘Adorable!’ Roman gushed, and it was only half put-on (the game really did look sweet). Then he turned to Virgil, glad that their faces were mere inches apart. It would surely create intimacy and trust between them and hence spur on Virgil’s headspace. ‘But y’know what’s even more adorable?’

‘What?’ Virgil questioned, turning to look at Roman then freezing. A faint look of worry graced his features, though Roman assumed he was simply nervous about regressing around Roman alone. ‘What are you -’

‘This little Virgil right here!’ Roman smiled and wiggled his fingers over Virgil’s side.

Virgil broke into muffled titters. ‘S-stop,’ he stuttered, unable to get through the word without laughing. ‘R-Ro-ho-man!’

‘Aw, listen to your little giggles,’ Roman cooed, pushing an adoring tone past the strange heaviness in his chest. He just didn’t feel right doing this. But it had to be right, Virgil was laughing and smiling and had always enjoyed it whenever Patton did the exact same.

So Roman continued. He forced his own small laugh and doubled down on the tickling, jiggling his hand quicker over Virgil’s ribs. The boy squeaked and dropped his sippy cup to the mattress. (The cup was non-spill, gladly.)

‘No-ho m-more,’ Virgil pleaded through his giggles and pushed on Roman’s wrist firmly.

‘You can’t get rid of me that easily.’ On a whim, Roman went to poke Virgil’s nose with his free hand. Twice the contact probably meant twice the likelihood of regressing, going by his logic.

At the very same moment that his finger pushed forward, though, he must have unwittingly hit a sensitive spot on Virgil’s ribs because the younger side’s face unexpectedly lurched forward with a gasp. Roman’s finger ended up poking Virgil’s eye.

‘Ow!’ Virgil whined, shoving Roman’s hands away harshly. ‘What the heck, Ro?!’ He raised a hand to cover his assaulted eye while the other stared at Roman in shock.

Roman was stunned for a moment, feeling suddenly small. He had messed up again. He had hurt Virgil. Again! He just wanted their caregivers to make it better like they always did, but this was Roman’s mistake. He couldn’t always rely upon Patton and Logan when he accidentally hurt his brother. He had to learn to do it alone.

‘Shit, I -’ Roman clicked his mouth shut and shook his head. (Back into character, goddamnit!) ‘Oh, poor baby,’ he pouted in sympathy.

Virgil only looked more indignant, his hand lowering from his eye which was, thankfully, uninjured. ‘What?’

‘Don’t worry little, uh, guy.’ Roman winced at his phrasing. ‘Uncle Roman will kiss it better!’

Roman started leaning forward, his hands held out in a placating manner - though they trembled slightly.

‘Stop!’ Virgil yelled, placing his hands firmly on Roman’s shoulders and keeping him at arm’s length.

A glimmer of relief flickered in Roman’s chest.

‘What are you doing?’ Virgil asked clearly, his expression a mix of confusion, irritation, and concern.

‘I - I’m trying to kiss your boo-boo better, kiddo.’ Roman attempted to smile, though even he had to admit his acting was no longer up to scratch. He was feeling jittery. This wasn’t right!

Virgil’s eyebrows raised and he offered no further response. How on Earth did he master those nuanced expressions so well? Roman almost wanted to ask for tips.

‘Fine,’ Roman sighed, throwing his arms up into the air as he dropped the act. ‘I kinda thought maybe I could babysit you for a while.’ Despite his words, he knew the pout on his face must not have commanded much respect.

‘I…’ Virgil paused, blinking slowly. ‘Princey, you hate caregiving,’ he burst out, incredulous. ‘I thought we established that weeks ago. And anyway you’re shit at it.’

‘Charming,’ Roman grunted, crossing his arms and diverting his gaze to the mattress. He didn’t need to be good at caregiving, he didn’t even necessarily want to be good at caregiving, but he would be damned if he actually admitted to being bad at something.

‘Why are you babying me all of a sudden?’ Virgil’s voice was softer now.

‘I just wanted to make up for yesterday!’ Roman cracked, though he was conscious to not outright yell, knowing Virgil’s sensitivity to loud noises would not do him any favours. ‘I want to prove to you that I’m sorry about what I did, but you barely acknowledged my other apologies,’ he explained, annoyance seeping into his tone. Virgil’s eyes dropped to his lap. ‘And you obviously didn’t care for my other ideas for acts of chivalry, so -’ he flailed his arms around in frustration ‘- I’m making do!’

The silence in the room somehow rang louder than Roman’s outburst, and he felt a knot of embarrassment start to clench his stomach.

Before it had time to grow any bigger, Virgil spoke up: ‘I’m sorry.’

‘What?’ Roman frowned and looked back up to him. Virgil looked horribly guilty. ‘No, I think you’re confused. I’m here so that I can apologise.’

‘Yeah, I got that.’ Virgil’s lips pulled into a small smile, then it dropped again. ‘Listen… I’m sorry for being kind of flippant earlier.’ He looked down, shrugging his shoulders up to his neck and holding them there. ‘I do forgive you, I just -’ he paused and Roman noted his cheeks had turned rosy. ‘I just didn’t want us to make such a big deal out of what happened, y’know?’

‘Oh…’ Roman breathed. This type of forgiveness was unexpected (not unlike anything else that had happened that day, so really shouldn’t he have expected it to be unexpected?) but nonetheless acceptable. If Virgil truly did forgive him then that should have been enough for Roman.

‘I mean thank you for apologising. Like, twenty times,’ Virgil said hastily, clearly noticing Roman’s surprise. ‘I do appreciate it - even if I never want to experience “Uncle Roman” ever again in my life.’ He looked back up at Roman shyly, ‘But can we please just pretend it didn’t happen?’

‘Uh, yeah. Sure. It - it’s cool,’ Roman replied with a weak nod, distracted by the persistent emptiness in his chest. 

Virgil bumped their knees together amiably then went back to his game.

After a minute or so of the controller clicking and the cutesy music blaring from the small speaker, Roman realised he was still unsettled by the situation. He communicated this to Virgil in the most effective way he knew how: by groaning loudly and forlornly.

‘What is it?’ Virgil asked in his most dramatic, long-suffering whine. It was a little teasing quirk they had picked up together that was entirely well-intended. The familiarity of it made Roman feel somewhat better about admitting the issue.

‘It’s just this niggling feeling, you know?’ he asked, fully aware that Virgil did not know. ‘I have to do something. I have the rich blue blood of a prince, for heaven’s sake.’ His eyes wandered around the room as if looking for a solution to his lament. ‘If I cannot defeat a villain in your honour or commit some other brave, valiant act of -’

He paused abruptly as his eyes settled on something. A stuffed raccoon lay abandoned on the floor by Virgil’s bed, torn in two. Roman was sure he remembered Virgil naming it Meeko, after his beloved character from Pocahontas.

‘Dear Zeus, I believe I have it!’ Roman cried triumphantly.

Virgil startled at the sudden noise and Roman turned to him with an apologetic smile. The emo only looked vaguely miffed.

‘Glad you’ve reached a solution, but do you think you could have a dramatic epiphany elsewhere?’ Virgil mumbled, eyes flitting back to his screen. ‘I have debts to pay here.’

Normally it would have annoyed him to be pushed aside for no more than a video game, but luckily for Virgil, Roman had a new job to do. He just needed to sneak Meeko out unnoticed.

‘I thought you said you paid off your debts last week,’ Roman said easily, subtly dropping his leg over the edge of the bed.

‘Yeah, but now I have more,’ Virgil shrugged, unaware of Roman’s movements. ‘It’s kind of a constant in this game.’

Roman hooked his socked toes around one half of the plush on the floor and silently dragged it closer. ‘Doesn’t living in constant debt stress you out though?’ He hooked his toes around the other piece of the toy, looking carefully out of the corner of his eye.

‘It’s actually super chill. You, like, go fishing and catch bugs and stuff.’ Virgil carried on talking, though Roman’s attention was quite preoccupied. ‘And you meet these animals and invite them to your island. You’d like them, they’re really sassy.’

‘Uhuh, uhuh,’ Roman hummed noncommittally, slowly inching his hand down to grab the stuffie pieces and trying to act as if he was just itching his leg.

‘You plant flowers and craft furniture and stuff. Then there’s this cool museum.’

Roman hurriedly stuffed the plushie pieces inside his jacket, masking the movement with a cough. He hazarded a glance to Virgil, glad to see that he was completely enraptured by the game, seemingly unaware of anything that was not pixelated.

‘You can design your own clothes too, look.’ Virgil pushed the screen in front of Roman and showed that his character was now wearing an in-game replication of his signature purple and black patched hoodie.

Roman’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Oh my goodness, that’s brilliant,’ he whispered, partly impressed by the game, though mostly impressed by the incredible idea that just popped into his head.

‘You should totally get the game. We could play together,’ Virgil said, smiling when he brought the console back to his lap.

‘I would like that,’ Roman said sincerely. ‘Though for now, I must be off.’

He rose from the bed, being careful to keep his left arm clutched tightly to his side to avoid dropping the toy and ruining his plan. He was ready to go and settle down to hours of work, but the child in him begged him to do one last thing before he left.

‘Still brothers?’ he asked hesitantly.

Virgil immediately looked up from the screen, his expression soft around the edges. ‘Yeah,’ he said quietly with a smile. ‘Still brothers.’

‘Yes!’ Roman cheered, punching the air with his right hand. It was followed by a huff of amusement from Virgil. ‘Love you, Virge,’ Roman said offhandedly as he turned away, ready to leave at that.

‘Uh, yeah,’ Virgil mumbled.

Roman paused on his way out. He knew Virgil fairly well, having spent so much time around him during the previous few months, and so he liked to think he had a fairly decent amalgamation of the varying tones of Virgil’s mumbles and what they meant. The wheezy ones showed distress, the stunted ones showed annoyance, the lowest ones showed reluctant happiness. This particular brand of mumble, quiet and high-pitched, projected Virgil’s embarrassment. And honestly what kind of big brother would Roman be if he missed such a harmless opportunity for teasing?

He spun back around with a smirk which only grew wider when Virgil saw it and groaned.

‘Say it,’ Roman insisted, holding back a laugh.

‘Go ‘way,’ Virgil whined, pulling his console up to cover his face, though Roman could still spy the blush peeking from behind it.

‘Aww, come on.’ Roman stepped closer to the bed, giggling when Virgil brought the Switch so close to his face that it touched his nose. ‘You said it yesterday,’ Roman sing-songed, kneeling down right in front of Virgil on the bed.

‘Then you shouldn’t need to hear it again,’ Virgil grumbled.

‘Oh, but I’ve forgotten what the pure adoration in your voice sounded like,’ Roman teased, reaching forward to lower the gadget from Virgil’s face. He bit his tongue in amusement when Virgil glared at him past bright pink cheeks. ‘How did you say it? “Wuvoo, Wo-Wo”?’

‘You’re no longer welcome in my kingdom.’

Roman shrugged, still being careful to keep his left arm secure over the stuffed racoon in his jacket. He swivelled his legs to plop down onto the bed.

‘Not leaving until you say it,’ he proclaimed proudly.

Virgil growled (adorably) and dropped the console to the bed, crossing his arms. An unintelligible mumble left his lips.

‘Hm, what was that?’ Roman asked with a giddy smile. He held his ear forward with his free hand. ‘I couldn’t quite hear -’

‘I love you, you weirdo!’ Virgil said loudly, seemingly agitated, though Roman knew there was no real heat behind it (he was well-versed in recognising Virgil’s playful irritation versus his real, leave-me-alone-right-now-or-suffer irritation). ‘Now get out of my room.’

Roman stood and bowed regally, ‘As you wish, Princess Bitter-cup.’

Something small and soft was hurled at his head.

‘Wow,’ Roman chuckled, picking up the tiny giraffe stuffie from the floor with his free hand and chucking it back onto Virgil’s toy pile. ‘Even when you’re a bitch you’re adorable.’

The pout on Virgil’s face was not a dangerous one so Roman winked. He sauntered off towards the door, finally satisfied that the guilty fog in his head had blown away. ‘See you later, lil bro.’

‘Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, big bro,’ Virgil responded sarcastically behind him.

Roman gasped, turning back around in the open doorway. ‘Umm, rude much - Ahh!’ He had to hurriedly jump back into the hallway to avoid being hit in the face by the door, which had suddenly slammed shut.

Waiting a moment for his heart to stop beating so hard from the spike of adrenaline, Roman heard muffled laughter coming from the bedroom. He scoffed and shook his head.

One of their house rules was to not use their metaphysical powers in the mindscape unless entirely unavoidable. Logan reserved his powers for actual emergencies, such as when the kitchen had set on fire. Patton only stretched the rules a little by using his powers to clean parts of the house that were difficult to reach or otherwise highly inconvenient. Roman used his powers only for absolute dire needs, such as summoning medical aid after an arduous adventure in the imagination (though on one occasion he had summoned puppies for desperately-needed snuggles). And Virgil, coming from years of living with the Other sides who used no such rule in their establishment, respected the rule for the most part, though renounced it on occasion in favour of performing relatively harmless pranks.

Roman could have tattled on him to Logan, though they had only just reconciled, so perhaps it wouldn’t have been the wisest decision. Plus, the next few hours of his time were decidedly booked.

He made his way down the hallway, already drawing up designs in his head. Being so inspired by his ingenious ideas, he almost bumped right into Logan at the top of the stairs.

‘Oh, sorry,’ Roman muttered, wondering how many more times he would utter that word that day. 

When Roman looked up, he was unsurprised to see that Patton stood right beside Logan. The two had been almost inseparable for the past two weeks when they weren’t caring for Roman and Virgil, and Roman was absolutely enamoured by their adorable attempts at keeping their budding relationship on the subtle side. They were obviously failing miserably.

What he was surprised to see, however, was a very large cardboard box huddled in both of Logan’s arms. ‘What’s in the box, specs?’

Logan and Patton looked at each other with unreadable expressions, then turned back to Roman and spoke simultaneously:

‘Stationery.’

‘What box?’

The two looked back at each other with wide eyes. Roman frowned, mind reeling with what two people in a new relationship could possibly buy together, have delivered in discreet packaging, and not want to tell - actually yeah, he didn’t want to think about that. 

‘Well, that was disturbing.’ Roman cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact as he hurried past them. ‘Forget I asked,’ he called back.

He had no time to worry about their stumbled defences. His sewing machine awaited!

oOo

Later that afternoon, Logan readjusted his position on the couch and crossed his legs with a sigh. He was feeling unusually restless. 

Patton and he had efficiently hidden their package some hours previously, thankful that Virgil did not witness their secrecy. It was all for his benefit, though the anxious side could be suspicious at the best of times. They could not afford for his defences to be raised any higher than they were already bound to be for the conversation they had planned.

As Logan waited, he breathed evenly, hoping to dispel his nerves before the other two joined him. Patton had left the room a minute previously to fetch Virgil for the chat.

There was no use in feeling nervous about it, Logan knew. It was only a conversation and truly there was nothing threatening about that. Still, the idea that Virgil could be upset by it disturbed Logan somewhat. He could not predict how the regressor would react to what they had to say. Though, as he so often said to Virgil, unpredictability should not be cause for worry. He took a steadying breath and uncrossed his legs.

Within a few moments, the door to the living room eased open and Patton stepped into the room with a quick nervous smile at Logan. After he had entered, Virgil shuffled in behind him, scratching at his hoodie sleeves and chewing his lip. Logan crossed his legs again.

‘Virgil, have a seat,’ Logan said gently, indicating the spot beside him on the couch. Patton had settled in the armchair.

Virgil’s eyes darted between both of them and the seat in quick succession.

‘You are not in trouble,’ Logan said, hoping that his smile was reassuring.

With a shaky sigh, Virgil perched on the end of the couch. He had sat as far from Logan as he possibly could.

‘Patton said you, uh, you wanted to talk about something?’ Virgil muttered.

‘Yes,’ Logan said. He internally made a note to talk to Patton about open-ended requests and how they could exacerbate Virgil’s anxiety, though pushed the matter aside for now. He carefully angled his body toward Virgil, trying to use more engaging body language as he could sense Virgil might try to close himself off. ‘We need to talk about your recent bathroom issues.’

As predicted, Virgil wrapped his arms tightly around himself and sunk further into the couch. Though he didn’t try to leave (for which Logan was grateful). ‘Oh.’

‘You are aware that Patton spoke to me about you two’s discussion, are you not?’

The question was met with a slight nod from Virgil. Logan did not miss the tremble in his fingers which clawed at his hoodie sleeves.

‘Virgil, I’d like to remind you that neither Patton nor I are in any way angry or disappointed with you,’ Logan said, knowing that Virgil’s anxiety must have been wreaking havoc in his mind.

‘Absolutely not,’ Patton agreed fervently. ‘We love you so much, Stormcloud. This doesn’t change that.’

‘Okay.’ Virgil did not meet either of their gazes. ‘Can I leave now?’

Logan sighed, knowing the conversation was bound to be difficult given Virgil’s attitude. ‘That wasn’t what we wanted to talk about.’

Virgil slumped in defeat.

‘I told Logan about everything you said to me yesterday,’ Patton started gently, ‘and we think we might have a solution to -’

‘You can fix it?’ Virgil asked, finally raising his gaze from his lap to look at Logan pleadingly.

Guilt flooded the logical side. It was not often Virgil felt hopeful about anything. In fact, Logan and the others had been trying to convince him to accept more optimism into his thought process, though unfortunately in this situation it had to be shot down.

‘Not exactly.’ At the look of hurt in Virgil’s eyes, Logan had to contain a wince. ‘You cannot always fix something,’ he explained. ‘Sometimes, the situation is unavoidable and the only option is to adapt.’

 ‘Adapt?’ Virgil echoed uncertainly.

Logan’s eyes inched over to Patton. They had agreed it might be more agreeable for Virgil to hear the suggestion from his lips.

‘Sweetheart,’ Patton said gently, ‘how would you feel if whenever you regressed you wore a diaper?’

‘No!’ Virgil immediately yelled, his voice cracking.

Logan shared a quick, bewildered look with Patton.

‘No, no, no, no, no,’ Virgil rambled frantically, his hands fisting in the cushion beneath him. Logan was shocked by the abject horror on the younger side’s face. ‘No, I can’t! I can’t, no, no -’

‘Honey, honey, stop. It’s all right,’ Patton hurried to soothe him, holding his hands up in surrender. ‘It’s completely okay if you don’t want to wear one.’

Patton was correct. It would have been completely acceptable had Virgil not wanted to try diapers. But - Logan noted with curiosity - Virgil had not said he didn’t want to. He had said he can’t. The small slip-up suggested that (even if only on a subconscious level) Virgil perceived the concept as unattainable, as opposed to undesirable. Logan felt an obligation to investigate further.

‘Why?’ he asked simply.

‘Logan,’ Patton whispered sharply, sending him a reprimanding look.

‘I won’t have any more accidents, I promise!’

Both caregivers looked back at Virgil in surprise.

‘Virgil,’ Logan said carefully, wary of the panic in Virgil’s eyes, ‘we understand that you do not do it on purpose, hence the term “accident”. We all know now that when you are regressed you cannot control it. Now I am sorry, but you simply cannot keep that promise.’

Virgil squirmed in place, his whole posture tense and alert. ‘Th-then I won’t regress anymore.’

Patton gasped, and Logan could hardly blame him. Though Logan had been prepared for Virgil to turn down the idea, the intensity of his reaction was entirely unforeseen.

‘Why would you say that, Virgil?’ Patton whispered, sounding heartbroken.

Virgil was trembling. He clearly had no answer. Though Logan was not convinced he would be able to reply even if he did have one.

‘Your regression is not voluntary.’ Logan spoke in a calm, low voice. ‘You have no say in whether it happens or not. You yourself told us this.’ He frowned in confusion. Virgil’s reaction was so fraught that it seemed to be inflicting his capacity for rational thinking.

To his vague relief, Virgil did appear to have gotten through the worst of his panic, though he still glanced between Patton and Logan nervously. ‘I can hide in my room,’ he suggested shakily. ‘I won’t bother you anymore, I’m sorry for burdening you, I -’

‘Stop,’ Logan said firmly. He could not bear to listen to the anxiety-driven drivel any longer. ‘I want you to take a deep breath.’

Virgil did just that, and the result was instantaneous. As he exhaled, his shoulders dropped from his neck and his hands eased their grip on the couch.

‘Good, keep going,’ Logan murmured, sharing a concerned look with Patton as Virgil took another shaky breath. When Logan had deemed it safe to do so, he continued.

‘We do not want you to hide in your room,’ he said clearly, being cautious to keep his tone gentle. ‘You do not need to hide your regression from us. You are not a burden.’

Virgil bit his lip but did not protest.

‘You could never be a burden,’ Patton said softly. By the jitteriness of his fingertips, Logan could tell that Patton was eager to reach out and hold Virgil, though he held back. ‘Please don’t hide this part of yourself again, sweetheart. You don’t need to.’

Even as his silence persisted, Virgil gave a stiff nod.

Now that Virgil had calmed down, for the most part, Logan launched into his investigation.

‘Could you perhaps explain why you are so adamantly against the idea of using diapers?’ It was met with bewildered looks of varying intensity from both of the others, so Logan elaborated, ‘In no circumstance would we ever force you into doing something against your will. That is not my intention for this conversation. I would merely like to examine your thought process surrounding the concept.’

Virgil looked imploringly to Patton, though was only met with an apologetic smile and nod.

‘Virgil,’ Logan called softly and was hurt to see the look of betrayal that turned onto him. ‘Please.’

He insisted on holding Virgil’s gaze until the younger side looked away with a sigh.

‘I just…’ Virgil pulled his knees up to his chest in a defensive pose. ‘It’s just weird,’ he mumbled.

Good, they could at least get somewhere with that.

‘Sweetie, it’s not -’

Logan held his hand up, silencing Patton. Though the reassurance was well-intended, Logan believed that simply disparaging Virgil’s views would be ineffective. They had to address the root cause of the issue.

‘And why is it weird?’ Logan prompted.

Virgil’s brow furrowed and he looked up at Logan with wide eyes, apparently (unreasonably) taken aback by the simple question.

‘I-I dunno,’ he said hesitantly. ‘Adults shouldn’t need -’

‘Some adults require incontinence products.’ Logan nipped that train of thought in the bud right away. ‘It is beyond their control, and yet you would call it weird?’

‘N-no!’ Virgil hurriedly defended. ‘No, of course not. That’s not - I meant I shouldn’t need… those.’

Logan muffled the growing satisfaction in his chest as they inched closer to the crux of the problem. ‘And why is it weird for you specifically and not those other adults?’

Virgil’s arms squeezed around his legs, pulling them tighter against his chest. ‘Because it’s, um, not a medical issue?’ he asked quietly, seeming more uncertain of his own argument with each passing second.

‘That is unimportant,’ Logan said. ‘Regardless of the cause, you are still unable to control your bladder on occasion.’

The tension in Virgil’s posture was painfully visible, as was the growing flush to his cheeks.

‘So, I will ask you again.’ Logan scooted himself slightly closer to Virgil on the couch, hoping that the closeness would bring Virgil some kind of comfort. He did not move away. ‘Why would it be weird for you to wear diapers if it is not weird for anyone else to do the same?’

Virgil blinked quickly and opened his mouth. Then he shut it, blinked, looked to his knees, opened his mouth, and shut it again. After a repeat of this cycle, he groaned quietly and buried his face against his knees.

‘You cannot think of an answer because it is an incorrect statement,’ Logan said. Looking at Virgil’s hunched form, he realised that being proven right was not nearly as satisfactory when it caused such distress to someone he loved. ‘I can assure you that your worries surrounding this matter are unfounded.’

‘He’s right, Virgil,’ Patton added. ‘You don’t need to be embarrassed about this, it’s all right.’

Virgil shook his head, though his face was still concealed by his knees. ‘Is not.’

‘It is,’ Logan insisted. ‘Your mental state regresses to that of a toddler’s, so why should we expect every aspect of your physical state to be any different? A toddler cannot be expected to have such a high command over their body.’

‘But I should,’ Virgil argued weakly into his jeans.

‘Not when you’re regressed, sweetheart,’ Patton said. ‘You’re just a baby, you can’t -’

‘I’m not a baby, I’m a pervert!’ Virgil shouted, his head snapping up from his knees fiercely.

Logan’s breath rushed from his lungs, his stomach lurching at such intense self-deprecation coming from the person he had come to see as his child.

‘Stormcloud…’ Patton whispered, sounding close to tears.

Virgil beat him to it. His “sweater paws” (that had been a highly useful vocab card) scrubbed harshly at the tears that fell to his cheeks. The image made Logan’s heart sink.

‘I’m a freak,’ Virgil mumbled into his sleeve. ‘I’m just gross and messed up and attention-seeking and…’ His voice had become squeaky and broken before he trailed off.

‘Baby, no, no, no,’ Patton cooed sadly and rushed to his side at break-neck speed. Squeezing in to sit between the regressor and the armrest, Patton wrapped his arm around Virgil’s shoulders and pulled him to lean against his side. ‘Virgil, honey, none of that is true. None of it.’

Virgil sniffled as Patton kissed his head.

Following Patton’s lead, Logan closed the distance between them on the couch. He placed one hand on Virgil’s knee and squeezed while his other settled on Patton’s forearm gently.

‘Please understand that there is absolutely nothing wrong with your regression or with how your body reacts to it,’ Logan pleaded, feeling strangely helpless. He had been so certain that Virgil knew his regression was valid. What had changed to make him spout this nonsense? ‘As you have informed us and as I have ascertained from my own research, age regression is by its very nature entirely non-sexual.’

Virgil nodded against Patton’s shoulder.

‘It is and always has been a natural state for you,’ Logan went on, sure that Virgil was aware of this already.

As suspected, Virgil nodded again.

Logan frowned. Where could this all have been coming from? ‘And you are aware that it is highly beneficial to your emotional wellbeing.’

‘Yeah,’ Virgil said, his voice wet and choked.

‘And you enjoy it!’ Patton said, injecting joy into his words. Logan saw how his arms tightened around Virgil’s form. ‘That’s as good a reason as any.’

Once more, Virgil nodded.

Logan considered why Virgil might have had such a sudden change of heart towards his view of age regression. It was, of course, possible that he had simply kept these views hidden up until that moment, though they had addressed his insecurities surrounding the matter on multiple occasions over the past three months. With a heavy heart, Logan realised that if these opinions had not originated from Virgil himself, they had to have originated elsewhere and been figuratively drilled into him.

‘Who called you those words, Virgil?’ Logan asked delicately. 

Virgil angled his head further into Patton’s shoulder in avoidance.

It was an unusual experience, watching the realisation dawn on Patton’s face. His eyes lost their joyful sparkle and his concerned expression melted into one of pure indignation and - most uncharacteristically - rage. The moral side pushed gently at Virgil’s shoulders, getting him to sit upright to reveal his face.

‘Who was it?’ Patton asked, his voice shaking with what Logan suspected was carefully concealed anger.

Virgil hunched in his seat and met Logan’s eyes for a split second before hurriedly looking down at his knees. ‘No one.’

‘Falsehood,’ Logan said sternly. He did not want to make Virgil anxious at all by prying, but he could not afford for this topic of conversation to be shrugged off so easily. ‘Who was it?’

With a deep, shaky sigh, Virgil rested his chin on his knees and muttered, ‘I mean no one I know.’

Patton sent a confused look to Logan over the head of purple hair.

‘Could you please elaborate?’ Logan asked.

A moment of silence passed, and just as Logan was preparing to ask again, Virgil inhaled sharply, paused, and then spoke.

‘A couple weeks ago I made a Tumblr post about my regression.’ Virgil’s voice was quiet enough that Logan had to strain to hear it. ‘About how I wasn’t ashamed of it anymore and - and about you guys,’ Virgil said. He tugged at a strand of his hair harshly.

Logan reached out and smoothed his fingers over Virgil’s hand, convincing him to release the hair. Their hands both dropped to the couch cushion, remaining joined at Logan’s insistence. He understood where the conversation was heading. ‘I am aware that there is an anonymous question function on Tumblr.’

Virgil’s fingers twitched against Logan’s palm. ‘S-someone kept sending asks saying it was just a… a fetish and telling me I was sick and weird and -’ he cut off with an audible gulp, ‘and a bunch of other stuff.’

‘They’re wrong,’ Patton stated without room for argument. Logan saw the muscle in his jaw jumping. ‘They - I can’t believe someone would -’ His voice was incredibly strained and it strangled his words so much that Patton seemed to almost gag over them. He blew out a harsh breath, the sound something akin to a hiss. ‘This is ridiculous.’

Patton was shaking with the effort to contain his reaction and looked about ready to burst. Glancing down, Logan realised with a hint of concern that Virgil was looking at Patton in surprise and, unfortunately, appeared to be nervous.

‘Patton,’ Logan said, ‘I want you to take a moment to -’

‘No, Logan!’ Patton whispered harshly, red in the face. He snatched his arm off from Virgil then clenched his fists in his lap. ‘They’re bullies. Horrible, mean, cruel bullies. I just don’t understand why!’ he broke into a shout. Virgil flinched and leaned into Logan’s side. ‘Why the hell would someone want to - I mean, how could - To our baby!’

Logan was in full agreement to everything that Patton was saying (even if most of it had to be read between the lines since he seemed so enraged that he could hardly get a full sentence out). But - Logan noted, seeing that Virgil was staring at his lap in shame - this was neither the time nor the place to display aggression. 

‘Patton,’ Logan said more firmly, ‘I understand you are angry, but please be wary of the sensitivity of this situation. I am sure Virgil would appreciate calm right now.’

‘I don’t mind.’ Virgil sounded feeble at best.

‘Angry?’ Patton repeated incredulously, actually looking at Logan in shock. ‘I - I’m not angry, I’m just…’ He went silent, the fire dissipating from his eyes and being replaced by uncertainty. Then he whispered, all heat faded from his tone, ‘I’m not angry.’

Logan nodded slowly. It was evident Patton was having trouble identifying his negative emotions, though Logan did not feel it right to divert the purpose of the conversation. He would have to delay the talk with Patton until after they had resolved Virgil’s issue, especially since he suspected Virgil would not open up so readily a second time.

‘Now, Virgil,’ Logan said. He looked at Patton pointedly, conveying that they had to get back to the task at hand. Patton nodded, the tension finally dispelling from his form. ‘These strangers online do not see how this coping mechanism helps you.’ Logan squeezed the younger side’s fingers slightly, earning his attention through a hesitant glance. ‘Their opinions are uninformed and therefore worthless.’

‘I’m sorry, sweetie,’ Patton breathed. He was curled into himself slightly, clearly embarrassed by his loss of control. ‘I didn’t mean to - these people are clearly very damaged,’ he said the word as if it were a substitute for harsher language, ‘and, for whatever reason, they only wanted to hurt you.’ He cautiously wrapped his arm back around Virgil’s shoulders. ‘Those kinds of people don’t have any authority over you or your regression.’

‘I guess not,’ Virgil said. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, melting into Patton’s touch.

Logan sighed in faint relief, glad that Virgil no longer seemed intimidated by Patton’s outburst. ‘It is a futile task in pandering to these idiots’ prejudices. Your regression makes you happy and so it is indisputably perfect.’

The words earned him a soft smile from Virgil and Logan felt his own expression soften at the sight.

‘Thank you,’ Virgil said with finality.

‘Though,’ Logan started, something still eating away at him, ‘it remains unclear how these bullies made you feel bad about needing diapers specifically.’

Virgil bit his lip, then looked back at the floor. ‘I - I wanted to try them a while ago,’ he whispered.

From the look on Patton’s face, it seemed Logan was not alone in his surprise.

‘It was just so scary whenever I had an accident!’ Virgil quickly defended. ‘I - I didn’t know what else to do. I was stupid and -’

‘Try again,’ Patton interrupted with a squeeze on Virgil’s shoulder.

‘I was dumb and -’

‘Again.’

‘I… was uninformed and didn’t know how to buy them. So I made a post asking for advice.’ Virgil rushed through the words as if wanting them to be over as soon as possible. ‘Then there was a bunch of asks saying it was disgusting and pathetic and hilarious and -’

‘Imbeciles,’ Logan growled loudly, though took a steadying breath and left it at that. He would absolutely be having a chat with Patton later so they could release their frustrations in private, away from Virgil.

‘None of that is true,’ Patton said softly. ‘Do you remember what Logan said about toddlers not being expected to have such a high level of bodily control?’

Virgil nodded.

‘You aren’t aware of yourself when you’re regressed, so you have to trust us when we tell you that when you’re in that headspace you really are a toddler.’ Patton said it slowly and deliberately, not giving Virgil a chance to dispute the words.

Virgil looked up at Logan, seeking confirmation.

‘It was astonishing to experience at first,’ Logan said, ‘but I cannot deny it. It truly is remarkable. And wonderful,’ he added truthfully.

Patton nodded enthusiastically and guided Virgil’s head to look back at him with gentle fingers. ‘As surprising as it was, we can tell it’s very real and natural.’ Patton kissed Virgil’s head. ‘There is absolutely nothing about your regression or your body that’s wrong in any way. Do you understand that now?’

Virgil stalled for a few seconds, though when he finally spoke, Logan could hear it was sincere. ‘Yeah. I think so.’

‘And I’m so proud of you for trying to help yourself, honey.’ Patton pulled Virgil into a tighter hug. ‘I’m sorry we weren’t there to look after you back then.’

‘But you are now… right?’ Virgil pulled away from Patton and peered shyly between both of them.

‘Of course we are,’ Patton replied instantly.

Logan felt a swell of pride and love overtake him. ‘We always will be.’

Virgil hid a smile behind his sweater paw.

‘Kiddo… can you maybe turn off the anonymous option on your blog?’ Patton asked hesitantly, reaching out to card his fingers through the length of Virgil’s hair. ‘I don’t wanna control what you do but it really worries me that these strangers could make you feel so bad about yourself.’

‘Already did,’ Virgil mumbled.

Logan saw that the tip of Virgil’s thumb had found its way to his lips. He was not surprised that Virgil appeared to be slipping into his regression; it had been a distressing conversation for him.

‘Clever boy,’ Patton praised, lightly pinching Virgil’s cheek. He must have noticed the slip too.

A shy smile wormed its way onto Virgil’s features.

Patton gasped dramatically. ‘Oh my, there’s suddenly an adorable baby in the room! Where did he come from?’

The thumb that had rested on Virgil’s lips now pressed between them. Logan recognised the light blush on Virgil’s cheeks as indicative of his impending infantile headspace.

‘Before you regress completely,’ Logan said quickly, wanting to be concise lest he miss the remaining moments of Virgil’s adult mindset. ‘Will you please reconsider our suggestion? We have already purchased some diapers for you as a precautionary measure and I think it will be a good idea for you to wear one today.’

‘I think so too, sweetheart,’ Patton added softly. ‘Just to see how it feels.’ 

Virgil hummed, though it might have been a muffled whimper.

‘There is no pressure to agree at all. Similarly, if you do attempt it but dislike it then there is no need to continue.’ Logan hoped to reassure any of Virgil’s doubts that might have been inhibiting what was clearly curiosity, perhaps even desire. ‘Though I believe it will at the very least be worth a try.’

Virgil genuinely seemed to consider it.

‘Remember, we’re only doing this to help you feel safe, Stormcloud,’ Patton whispered, running his knuckle against Virgil’s cheek.

Logan gently took hold of Virgil’s hand and eased it away from his mouth so that his thumb left his lips. Virgil pouted at him, though Logan ignored it in favour of asking, ‘What would you like to do, Virgil?’

To Logan’s astonishment, he nodded.

‘Try,’ Virgil said, his voice babyish and muted.

oOo

Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! ♡

AO3 link | Next chapter

NOTE: Massive thanks to my friend Duckie for reading over the first draft of this chapter, giving me notes and cheering me on, it wouldn’t be the same without her! You can find her adorable age dreaming tumblr here: @duckies-little-pond​ 🐣💛

#agere virgil #little virgil #little roman #ts agere #sanders sides agere #cg patton #cg logan #little/big series #little/big series fics #little accidents big developments #agedre roman

[macybeckham7]

Army Medic - Eric Dier

Part Nine 

YN was sat in the garden in the little allotment garden Eric made a few months back during the summer, she had found herself coming out here every morning and started it being in her daily routine. She wanted to keep to schedule or routine as she was not in the army anymore she didn’t want to feel lost. 

Every morning she was waking up alone in bed, usually feeling sick due to the back kicking her insides, she would get dressed as if she had somewhere to be but she never did. She would sit on the sofa and watch trash TV while she ate her breakfast, or the sorry excuse of a breakfast. Try to not throw up and then go in the garden and sort it out then usually have a cry about what her life has become and then inside when Eric’s mum and her  mum comes round and gushes over her for a few hours before Eric comes home and just nonstops talking about his day. 

She lets out a small sigh as there was a knock on the door, Eric who was home as he had a home game the next day, he walks to do the door and instantly hugs the door so she couldn't see who it was and they couldn't see her.

‘Is she in?’ Michael asked softly, giving the footballer a small look which he seemed to understand and got when he saw the bouquet of flowers he had in his hands. 

‘Was it?’  he whispered. 

He nods. ‘Curtis.. Sniper to the head, and Henry too’ he mutters. 

Eric lets out a frustrated sigh and shakes his head. ‘The funerals are this week... I know she isn't apart of the team anymore but a family is always a family’ the soldier says. 

Eric shakes his head and tells him that he doesn't want to tell her, mainly because he knows this wouldn't be good for her or the baby. 

He takes the flowers and thanks him before walking back inside.

‘Who was that?’ she asks as she was now in the hallway.

‘No one’ he tries to drop the conversation he didn't want to be having. She raises her brows at him and then asks who gave the flowers which he instantly said they were left on the doorstep. He walks past him and sorts the flowers out which YN defiantly found weird and noticed that he was acting strange. 

A few days went by and YN was beyond bored. She had clocked out of the conversation and somewhat come numb to having a hand on her as she is used to it nowadays. It was like people forget she is always a person and is more than just a baby bump. 

Her phone beeped which she instantly picked up from the table and instantly looked at Eric, she quickly excused herself and went outside and got followed by the dogs. 

‘Quasi? You are back?’ she says as soon as she answers the phone. 

‘I am.. Quick pit stop and then back out there’ he says. 

Eric was watching her, he narrowed his eyes as he saw her looking at him through the window, she then fell to her knees as she sobbed. He instantly raced to her, her wrapped his arms around her as she swayed side to side as she sobbed, she pulled away and started to hit his chest as he tried to sooth her. 

‘He is dead and you weren't going to tell me?’ she cried. ’You fucking asshole!’  

Her mum joined her and hugged her as he climbed back to his feet. ‘I didn't tell you because-’

YN cut him off. ‘Why because this is bad timing for you? Because you knew how much he meant to me?’ 

‘Because I didn't want to lose you to this shit again’ 

She raised her brows at him. ‘This shit?’ she questioned. ‘This shit is my whole fucking life. They are my family!’ she sobbed. ‘I loved him’ she cried as her mum hugged. 

….

Eric walks alone in the cemetery, enjoying the coldness and quietness, he was in his deep thoughts about life, he found YN sat on a bench she was holding onto one of Curtis’ caps. Since she found out about his death she has gone into auto pilot mode and just wanted to be with his family and found comfort with Imogen and Quasi. She had made an emotional speech, which Eric had to step in and finish the speech. He felt her tense up when he touched her and she walked off as he finished the emotional speech. Him reading her writing on the crisp white paper, he instantly realised what she was feeling, and how lost she was without her army family. 

He sat down beside her and they stayed quiet, she gently leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. 

‘I’m sorry for being a dick’ he whispered as he kissed her forehead. ‘I’m here for you’ he says softly. 

A small smile appeared on her face and she looks into his eyes. 

‘Tell me about him... Not the one that everyone is talking about now that he has gone, but the real Curtis, what was he like?’

‘Curtis, he was a little shit, but he was always had his friends backs, he would do anything for his family’ she says softly. ‘He took me under his wing and he was the reason why I was called smudge’ she mutters. Her bottom lip quivers. ‘He was one of the best soldiers to fight for his country, and in some twisted way he would of loved this celebration of his life’ 

Eric stayed quiet as he just listened. ‘We all said that you wouldn't want to see him in a dark alley, he was this hench guy that would even frighten Frankenstein’s monster, but when you got to know him, he was just the sweetest guy in the world’

She bursts into tears as Eric holds her softly. ‘I know that we signed up for this but I never thought he’d be the one to die, I always thought he would just always find his way back, he had loads of hit misses’

Eric saw Imogen first and nodded for her to join them, her hand instantly intertwined with hers. She was with him and had told her that he was talking to her as if she was Yn. Imogen gave her the little voice note she made for her, she cried at every little joke he made and detail he went into, and told her that she could be anything she wanted and don't stay in one little bubble. As she listened to him she really wanted to be with him, she should of been there and she hated herself a little more that she wasn't there for him. Imogen was in a flood of tears which Yn instantly pulled away from Eric and looked after the medic and tried to calm her down and told her that this wasn't her fault. 

….

A month went by and Yn was now 8 months, the nursery was fully done, and Yn found herself sat in the cosy room on the floor as she looked at a photo of her and Badger and Animal, the photo was of her sat on Animal’s knee with the Badger stood behind them and they were pulling funny faces at each other, the photo was taking in the mid first tour. 

‘I think it might be me...’ she whispered as Dier’s dad walked in. 

He handed her a coffee before taking the photo from her. 

‘This wasn't your fault, not Raccoon’ he mutters, making her giggle. 

‘Badger’ they both say in unison. 

He pulls her into his arms. ‘None of this was your fault’ 

‘If I didn't get pregnant’ she whispered. 

He shakes his head as the two dogs appear by her side and comforts her. 

‘This isn't me’ she cried. ‘I shouldn't of got bloody pregnant and I should of been with him’ she cried harder. 

As Eric arrived home he found Yn curled up in the nursery which she had destroyed in rage. 

#army medic #eric dier imagines #eric dier blurbs #eric dier

[sweetbitterpdf]

hello!!! could you do 44 and 9 from the prompts list? if they haven’t already been suggested heh 💛

( 50 cliché tropes and prompts !!! )

44. I’m your new neighbour and I got locked out, help!;

& 9. There’s only one bed and we sleep as far away as possible from each other but wake up cuddling

I can absolutely do that! fair warning, this ended up being 2.8k words, which just may be my longest prompt fill, like… ever. I like how it turned out, though, and I hope you do too anna!! thank you for being patient!!

—

There’s no catharsis quite like a nice, hot shower.

When Lucas’ brain won’t quiet down— that is, most nights— he’ll take a long shower. There’s probably some scientific explanation as to why it calms him to the point where he can fall asleep, but he’s not sure about the details of it. In any case, he emerges in a cloud of steam feeling a lot better than before, and he thinks he’s finally ready to attempt sleep again. 

He’s not sure if it’s the new setting— the constant commotion of university dorms— or something else, but his brain has been racing a mile a minute, all day long. He wants nothing more than to rest, but his brain won’t allow that, apparently. He thinks about settling down into his uncomfortable dorm bed and finally being able to fall asleep, wills it into existence.

Except—

“Fuck,” he says, reaching into the pocket of the shorts he brought with him. He reaches into both pockets, and doesn’t feel his room key in either of them. “No, no— Fuck!” He’s heard that it’s a rite of passage for first years to forget their room key at least a dozen times throughout the year, but he really thought better of himself than to forget it on the very first day— well, night. 

He has his phone, at least— he can call building administration! All is not lost.

“Hello,” a pre-recorded voice drones, “Thank you for calling. Please note that our administrative services only run from 9am-5pm, and are closed for the day. Please call during these times if your have any questions or concerns. If you have an emergency, please call—”

“Fuck!” He says, again. He doesn’t want to call the emergency line— it’s not like being locked out of your room is an emergency, just a huge inconvenience. He stops to think, then. He contemplates toughing it out in the bathroom for the night— but quickly realizes that he would rather do literally anything else.

And so, a few minutes later, his clothes now back on, he’s staring at the door or his next-door neighbour, staring at his loopy handwriting, reading it over and over.

Eliott Demaury

Second Year

Double Major, Literature & Media Studies

Underneath his information is a cartoonish drawing of a raccoon. It has a speech bubble next to it that says come say hi! 

Lucas wonders if that offer applies at— he checks his phone— 1:37am.

It’s worth a shot, he thinks. He takes a deep breath, reaches his fist up, and knocks three times. If his friendly doodle on his door is any indicator, he should be nice. It’s odd that they haven’t met yet, Lucas thinks. He’s just about to turn and leave, when he hears footsteps, and then the door opening, and—

Oh.

“Hello?” Eliott says, and Lucas just… Stands there. He stands there and he stares because Eliott kind of has the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen and his hair looks so soft and— “Can I help you?” There’s no malice to his voice, but it’s quite evident that he’s confused by Lucas standing there, in his doorway, in the middle of the night.

“Oh,” Lucas says, gathering himself, “Uh, I… I’m Lucas, I live next door. I, uh, locked myself out of my room— impressive on the first day, I know— and the admin office is closed until tomorrow morning, and so I can’t get back in to my room until tomorrow, and I just— I don’t know what to do. And you seemed nice from the sign on your door, and you’re in second year, and I just thought— maybe you’d know what to do? I’m sorry, I probably woke you up, but I’m just freaking out a bit, right now.” A beat of silence follows, where Eliott looks Lucas over, and Lucas can feel the other boy’s gaze go down, and then back up again. He tries not to shiver with it.

Eliott shrugs, and Lucas’ eyes follow the movement.

“No worries, come in.” And, okay, what? The majority of Lucas’ brain was expecting him to get laughed at, or to get the door slammed in his face— but getting invited in? Wasn’t even on his mental list of possibilities.

“Are you sure?” Lucas asks, because he still can’t quite believe that this is happening. He can’t believe that not only does he now have a place to stay for the night, but that place just so happens to be the room of the single most attractive person he’s ever seen.

“Lucas, I’m not going to abandon you on your first night of university. You can stay the night here.”

“Oh, okay.” Lucas says, following Eliott in, a little bit dumbfounded.

—

“So, first year science? Are you excited?” Lucas tries to figure out a way to tell Eliott that he’s scared shitless, that he has no clue what’s coming next. 

His face goes warm when he realizes that Eliott has been paying attention to him, that he knows what Lucas is studying. He’s thankful for the low light of Eliott’s desk lamp, for being able to conceal himself in the shadows.

“Yeah!” He lies, partially. Part of him is excited, to be on his own, to be away from his tumultuous family. “I’ve heard good things about most of my professors, so I’m hoping things will go alright.” Hoping, praying— “What about you, why did you choose literature and media studies?”

Eliott looks contemplative for a moment. “I really like storytelling, in all of its forms.” His voice has gone a bit quieter, and Lucas can tell that this is something vulnerable. “Have you ever read a book, or seen a movie, and it just… Stays with you? Becomes a part of you?” The way he says it makes Lucas’ heart ache for him. “Those sorts of stories are my favourite, and I love how everyone’s perspective is different, no two people will share the exact same view or opinion, it’s so subjective.” The way his eyes shine makes Lucas want to lean in, makes him want to watch Eliott forever. “I don’t know, I just… Really couldn’t imagine myself studying anything else. I want to make stories that do that for other people.” Lucas tries to nod noncommittally, to act like he doesn’t feel like Eliott has just laid himself bare in front of him.

To act like he isn’t so desperate to find out more about him that— in his sleep-derived state— he would die for it.

“That’s beautiful.” Lucas says. You’re beautiful, Lucas doesn’t say.

They talk like that for a while. Part of Lucas wants to leave, wants to stop disturbing Eliott at— he checks his phone, 2:24am— and let him go to sleep. But Eliott fills every pause with chatter, with bouts of laughter and soft smiles that make Lucas’ heart leap and tumble around inside his ribcage. Lucas can’t ignore the way sleep starts to tug on Eliott’s eyelids, the way his blinking gets slower and heavier, the way he keeps yawning.

“I don’t want to keep you awake too long.” He says, and Eliott shakes his head, wakefulness coming back to him for a brief moment.

“No, no, it’s fine!” Eliott says, “I was actually having some trouble sleeping, anyway. And it’s nice, talking to you.”

Lucas swallows, hard. His mind is a whirlwind of want, everything he wants to do with Eliott flying around his head. More than anything, though— “It’s nice talking to you, too.” And if it weren’t so late, if there wasn’t still that nagging little voice in the back of his mind droning you’re bothering him, you’re burdening him, Lucas would keep talking to Eliott without so much as a second thought. “But you look tired. We can talk in the morning.” The way Eliott smiles at him, then, makes something unfurl in his chest.

“Okay.” Eliott’s tone keeps switching— he’s never heard a simple okay sound so private, so special. “You can take the bed.” Another simple sentence with the softest tone Lucas has ever heard. He wants to wrap it around himself like a blanket, curl up under it and let Eliott’s voice lull him to sleep.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll sleep on the floor.” Because, really, it’s Eliott’s room. He’s not only a guest, but an unplanned guest, one who barged in in the middle of the night and he can’t just—

“Lucas, you’re my guest, I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.” 

“Eliott, it’s your room, I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.” Certainly not his best counter, but it’ll suffice, he supposes. Because it’s Eliott’s room— and also because the sheer thought of spending the night bathed in Eliott’s scent is enough to make his head spin.

But then—

Then—

“Guess we’ll both have to take the bed.” Eliott says. He shrugs a bit, his face nearly smug, as if he knows exactly what’s going through Lucas’ head at this exact moment, frantic words running through his mind to the point where they’ve blended together, overlapping each other in a frenzied static. “Is that alright with you?” Eliott asks, and Lucas wants to answer yes, please i’ve never wanted anything more, wants to answer no, because my heart is pounding so hard it hurts and i’m scared of what you’re doing to me, with only your voice and your smile, wants to answer a thousand different things. Instead, though, he takes a deep breath, nods a couple of times, and says—

“Yeah,” as if that wasn’t the single best and worst thing anyone has ever said to him. “That’s fine.”

“Right or left?” Eliott asks, gesturing to his bed. Lucas ends up on the right, the side furthest from the wall. He tries his hardest not to toss and turn, but he finds himself turning over after a short while. However, when he does so, he’s face to face with Eliott, already asleep, he expression even and serene.

Lucas turns away almost immediately, his heart lurching, foreign, in his chest. Even when he turns, though, everything in the bed smells of Eliott, and that only makes his heart pound against his ribcage, threatening to burst out.

Lucas lays flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep for an entirely different reason. He feels everything— the way Eliott’s toes brush against his ankle, the way the bed shifts every time he does, even his gentle breathing tickling his face, a whisper along the skin of his cheek, unsure whether he wants to lean away or lean in.

—

He isn’t sure when he fell asleep, but all he knows is that he did, and that he’s awake now, in the early morning sunlight.

And that his limbs are tangled with Eliott’s, so close that they’re nearly chest-to-chest. 

He’s still on his back, but at some point in the night, Eliott curled into him, snaking his long arms around Lucas’ waist to keep him pulled close. He’s sure it wasn’t a willful decision on Eliott’s part, to send his heart hammering away during his first moments of wakefulness. If it was, though, Lucas certainly has some choice words for Eliott, because frankly who has the right to—

“Mm,” Lucas’ train of thought is cut off by Eliott, humming low in his throat, still asleep, his hands brushing along the skin of Lucas’ lower back, sending Lucas’ stomach aflutter, effectively silencing his thoughts. Part of him wants to pull away, wants to leave with a note or something, to see if the administrative staff have arrived yet.

But, the other part of his brain asks, but do you really want to? 

And Lucas knows. He knows with an equal measure of curiosity and fear, that he doesn’t. That he wants this, for as long as Eliott will allow it. So there he lays, in Eliott’s embrace, his mind having settled, somehow. He’s barely known Eliott a night, and yet there’s this feeling in his chest that he wants to pursue in any way he can.

So when Eliott stirs again, Lucas ignores the sliver of panic that sneaks in, he digs his feet into place— metaphorically speaking— and he stays where he is. Eliott groans again, coming into consciousness, and Lucas can tell that it takes a few moments for Eliott to notice him.

“Lucas?” He says, his voice raspy with sleep. His eyes blink fully open, and then he’s pulling away. Lucas misses the proximity already. “Oh shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize—”

“Eliott, it’s okay.” Now, though, Lucas is armed with a plan. “I liked it.” Liked may be an understatement, but he doesn’t want to scare Eliott away by telling him the whole truth. I’ve never felt so safe in anyone’s arms before seems a bit overkill.

“You did?” Eliott’s surprise renders Lucas surprised, as well. Does he not know, Lucas asks himself, how beautiful he is?

“I did, it was nice.” Lucas says, as if it’s an objective fact, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. His reward for being so straightforward is more than worth it: Eliott’s cheeks flush pink, illuminated in the morning sun.

“Oh, okay.” Then Eliott’s smiling, only to himself seemingly, and Lucas has never wanted to kiss anyone more than he does right now, he thinks. “I liked it, too.” As they lay there in silence, Lucas manages to stay bold, somehow, and pulls Eliott’s arm back around him, to rest lightly on his back. Light enough, as if to say we don’t have to keep doing this if you don’t want to. Even his boldness comes with hesitance. But Eliott takes the gesture and runs with it, drawing small circles with his finger along Lucas’ sleep-warm skin. Lucas mirrors the gesture, and commits the smile that Eliott gives him in response to his memory.

—

They stay like that for a while, holding each other close, talking about their lives. Eliott tells Lucas that he’s from Paris— me too! Lucas says cheerily— that he loves visual art as much as he loves literature, that the cartoonish raccoon on his door is supposed to be him, and that— if Lucas were an animal, to keep raccoon-Eliott company— he would be a hedgehog.

It’s as if the morning is enchanted, somehow. He doesn’t notice time passing— let alone the fact that he’s been laying in bed talking to Eliott for hours now, and that it’s nearly noon. If he isn’t careful, he may have to wait another day to get a spare key for his room.

“I should go.” Lucas says, after they’ve been quiet for a while. Eliott’s expression drops slightly, and Lucas nearly says never mind, I’ve actually decided that I’m staying here forever. “I just need to get my key— if we’re not careful, admin will close again and I’ll be locked out for another night.” Though, admittedly, Lucas can think of worse fates. “I had… a really good time though, here, with you.” Eliott’s smile is back in full force, and Lucas feels as if the universe has been restored. “Thank you, for taking me in, in the middle of the night.” He’s gotten up now, sliding his pants over his boxers, searching for his socks. Eliott follows him, helping him gather his things.

“It’s no problem. I had a really good time with you, too.” Eliott mirrors his tone playfully, and it brings a smile to Lucas’ face as well. Will this happen again? Hangs in the air between them, wordlessly.

Lucas turns, heading out, and Eliott follows again, opening the door for him.

“See you around?”

“Yeah.” Eliott says, in a puff of air. Lucas has just started to turn, but then he hears “Wait.”

Eliott’s leaning in, fixing a bit of Lucas’ hair. He’s very clearly taking more time than necessary— Lucas isn’t even sure his hair was messed up in the first place, it had looked fine in the bathroom mirror when he was brushing his teeth earlier. Nonetheless, Lucas wants to lean in to the touch, but before he can, Eliott’s leaning in again. This time, though, he presses their lips together, so quickly it’s barely there, before he’s pulling away, smiling over at Lucas from his doorway.

“Feel free to lock yourself out of your room more often.” Eliott says, before closing the door.

—

“Yes!” Lucas exclaims as his door opens, at long last. Getting a spare key for his room had been an ordeal all on its own, but finally��� finally— he’s back in his room. As he enters, he notices a piece of paper, folded on the floor at his feet. He picks it up and reads it over.

Text me when you get back in your room, I want to make sure you’re safe!

Then maybe text me after that, too?

XX-XX-XX-XX-XX

Lucas pulls out his phone and enters to the number, smiling down at the drawing of a raccoon and a hedgehog in the corner of the note.

#skam #skam france #elu #lucas x eliott #elu fic #asks; #mywriting; #have some soft college elu on this fine sunday #this one was written in bits and pieces so my apologies if it seems a bit jerky from one scene to the next!! #i think college AU is really my go-to AU i've written like... several different college AUs lmao! #also if ur university admin functions like this PLEASE put in a complaint or smth this isn't supposed to be realistic

[theexecutionerssong]

Alright so, recap from the screening!

First, David, Carol and Niels spoke a bit and thanked the whole crew and us for being here and being so supportive, reminding us to keep being that supportive during s4 so we get more seasons. Then the cast got there from the back of the room and everyone got distracted so they called them down, they waved, Maxence with his cute plushy raccoon, and sat down front row. 

We watched episodes 8 and 9 back to back. I was sitting right behind Axel and Maxence and let me tell you, Axel’s hair is so floppily all over the place that it would fall back over the edge of his seat when he’d rest his head on the seat bahah.

Maxence seemed nervous about the scene in which Eliott has a manic episode, he sat up instead of trying to melt into his seat like he’d been doing previously. He leaned on Axel and Coline on his other side a bit, or they were talking, I don’t know. The whole cast looked to Assa and cheered/did a thumb up during Imane’s speech about the mural, we stan. 

At the end of episode 9, everyone was a mess. The only time I had seen that many people  cry in a theater was at the premiere of Love, Simon. We all got up to clap and when they turned the light on, everyone was crying. David went straight to Axel and Maxence, who were also crying, and made them stand up before cuddling them. The video I posted earlier was taken seconds after the lights went up again and you can see tears on their cheeks. They and the rest of the cast kept wiping tears for a good part of the Q&A.

After that there was the pannel and I think you’ve all seen the videos already so not talking about that here but hit me up if you have questions.

Then we had to go outside and that’s when the cast started talking and taking pictures with everyone. And I mean EVERYONE. It lasted about three hours, just talking and hugging and taking pics. 

I was lucky enough to get to speak with David a bit about that last scene of episode 9 and guys... They only did two takes. David said that Axel gave it his all, he went above and beyond and ran so fast he was afraid he would hurt himself (”j’ai cru qu’il s’était pété les tendons”). That first “you’re not alone” he says to Eliott, where he sounds so winded, barely getting the words out? Axel was actually close to passing out. He was out of it, couldn’t catch his breath, he was shaking. They didn’t take a break between him running and then finding Eliott. He seems to be such a wrecked because he was, emotionally and physically. 

When David heard Remember, he saw the scene happening right in front of his eyes, the shots of Lucas running, the flashback full of sunlights, the crescendo, everything. They shot the car almost hitting Lucas for real, David said Axel barely batted an eye and just went for it, blindly, trusting.

We also talked about how Skam France came to be and how many people described it as “a teenage show”, which made him roll his eyes because it often sounds negative in the mouth of some people. He explained that Skam was so important because it was a show that wasn’t for teenagers but made by teenagers. He talked with teenagers for months before going into the casting and writing the scripts. The first thing he always asks when the actors get on set is “how are you feeling? Have you eaten? Have you slept well? How’s your mood?” because he doesn’t want the actors to be fake. When a teenager is happy, feeling down, excited, moody, then he’s all of that and nothing will change it, and he wanted that to be felt on screen. It’s a show that gives a voice to teenagers but it doesn’t mean it’s supposed to be watched only by teenagers, quite the contrary.

The majority of the cast stayed until at least 9:30pm which is when I left to get something to eat. I’m amazed at how patient and enthusiastic Maxence and Axel in particular are, there were hundreds of people and they still took the time to talk and listen with everyone. Maxence doesn’t walk, he skips and jumps towards people, it’s adorable, and he literally makes you disappear into his hugs, he wraps his whole boddy around you. Axel is loud loud loud and kisses everyone ahah. Lula and Coline are the most adorable, bubbly persons you’ll ever meet. Paul is a sweetheart, considerate, taking his time, and so funny. I didn’t talk much to Anne Sophie, Leo and Edouard because I had seen them at the concert before. I missed Assa and Philipine though :(

When I walked past the cinema after having a meltdown at Five Guys because of Supernatural an hour later, I bumped into David again, his arms full of gifts from fans. We thanked him again, I told him I was impressed and so grateful for the time he gives us. He said that he felt like he had to listen to us, IRL or online, because that’s why he does what he does and that’s how Skam came to be, by listening to us. I told him that even though I’m 26, I can still relate to the show and that I would have needed it so bad 10 years ago. To which he replied that he’s eternally grateful for this kind of comments, and that our generation, the gen z/millenials, are the ones who are the most vocal about fighting for our right to love and that it was fucking beautiful but also shouldn’t be necessary. He hopes his kids won’t have to, and that all he wanted after tonight was hugging them. So I told him good night, go home, and hug them extra hard.

#skam france #skam france cast #gaelle parle #i'm emotionally drained #but so worth it #congrats to anyone who read this very long recap

[mattzerella-sticks]

Tales from the Future - Batflash Week Day 1: Wards & Didn’t Know They Were Dating

After a tough mission in the future with the Titans, Damian and Wally discovered something very shocking. They couldn't keep this information to themselves, though, and decided to tell their families - save the very people the information is about.

Will the group of Robins and Speedsters stay focused enough to come up with a plan or realize that the future isn't as bad as they're fearing?

Damian watches Jason casually stroll in through the window, one leg swinging in after the other with practiced aloofness. “Tch,” he scoffs, “nice of you to show up.”

“Buzz off, Bat Brat,” Jason says, squeezing in between Dick and Tim on the couch. “I was busy .”

“Who was busy?” Dick asks.

“Me, I just said -”

“No, who was busy,” he clarifies, leering at Jason. Groans erupt from across the room, Damian hiding his face in his hand. Duke huffs from the armchair, mirroring him.

A smack echoes, Dick cursing. Tim glares from the other side of the couch, frowning. “None of us want to hear about Jason’s sex life.”

“I don’t know,” Dick says, rubbing his head, “I could use a good laugh or two.”

Sighing, Wally steps behind Damian. He turns to face his friend. Wally looks unimpressed, a similar expression to the other speedster guests who joined them this afternoon. The older Wally sits on the other armchair across from Duke, closer to Dick. Bart vibrates around the room, not really staying in one place for too long. “Is this how every meeting starts?”

“No,” Damian admits, “sometimes we do more than slap the other.”

Wally’s eyebrow climbs further up his forehead.

“Okay, everyone, settle down,” Damian calls. His brothers quiet immediately, giving him their attention. “We didn’t assemble to tease Jason.”

“But it’s such a fun team building activity.”

“Fuck you, Bubble Butt.”

“How dare you -”

Another clap silences them again. “Do I have to separate you two?” Damian asks, glancing between the older Robins. They dart their gazes towards one another for a brief second before relenting, a white flag waving from their stations. “Good,” he continues, running his hands across his chest. Smooths invisible wrinkles on his charcoal black button-down. “Now we’ve gathered you all for a reason.”

“A very important reason,” Wally preempts Bart, the latter’s jaw hanging. Offhand comment still cocked in his chamber, pulled from the trigger. “That has to deal with Barry and Bruce.”

Their family sobers immediately at the mention of their respective elders. “Really?” Dick asks, “What is it?”

Damian and Wally glance between themselves, silently discussing who would start. Taking too long, Jason breaks their debate. “Someone just freakin ’ start already!”

Taking point, Damian clears his throat. “We’d finished a mission with Jon, saying our goodbyes to him and his team in the future…”

A mission to the future seemed too early for Damian’s ragtag team of Titans. He could barely get them to stop fighting each other to handle villains of this century, there was no telling how they’d fare against criminals with advanced and alien tech. Yet Jon came for him at an inopportune time. Bubble bursting in during a team meeting, popping out with his friend , Saturn Girl.

“Damian,” he panted, ash smudged across his face, “I need you.”

That was all the convincing needed. Except the moment he set a foot into the time bubble a gust of wind sped past and snatched his wrist.

Wally wouldn’t let Damian leave them, the others gathering round demanding to be brought along. Damian scowled, trying to figure out a quick enough argument to shut the idea down without offending them. Because he promised them he’d be kinder . Kindness cost him dearly, since Saturn Girl gave them a free pass by saying, “Of course you can come along.”

Carried into the time bubble by the incoming stampede, they squished together to travel to the 31st century. He squirmed between Crush and Roundhouse, annoying Wally given the timed puffs of air he breathed through his nose.

“You were tickling my chin,” Wally scoffs, “And it was taking too slow.”

“We were advancing 1000 years in a blink of an eye!” Damian cries, “There’s nothing slow about it -”

“Guys, focus!” Wally says, “What does this have to do with Barry and Bruce?”

“Well, when we got there it turns out this villain had taken control of their head quarters,” Wally says, ignoring his cousin.

A green, floating eyeball paraded around the Legion of Superheroes’ Clubhouse. Members with glowing, verdant gazes stalked the halls like zombies. Unfortunately they proved much more resourceful and smarter than their appearance.

An accidental sneeze from Roundhouse alerted their presence, and heroes descended upon them. Damian found himself holding off a wolf-man with his staff caught in his sharp jaws. When he flipped the beast off him, Damian saw the rest of his team separated and battling in their own small groups. And the eye, watching them. Waiting.

“Its owner entered with fanfare,” Damian tells them, “using this boy who shoots lightning for special effects.”

Tim yawns, “Why does this matter?”

“It does! Now, she entered…”

The Emerald Empress immediately captured Roundhouse with her Eye, trapping him in her spell like all the others. Saturn Girl shouted for them to retreat, falling back towards a secret tunnel. Except on their way Djinn snagged her ankle on a waiting hand, phased through the floor.

“Go!” she says, “I’ll be fine!”

Damian froze, only Wally’s fast reflexes pulling him out from falling debris dropped by a gravity manipulator. They left Djinn and Crush - the latter shoving past Emiko to help the other girl. Behind the shut door of the secret entrance Damian saw emerald light flash and his heart sank.

“This is why you should have stayed in the past,” Damian growled once they snuck far enough away, “Not even five minutes and we’ve already lost half the team!”

“We’ll save them, Damian,” Wally said, a steady calm to the raging storm brewing inside the smaller boy, “We always will.”

“Don’t see how,” Emiko added, the first few words since travelling to the future. “Her Eye looks kitted to the max. Coupled with the heroes she already has under her thrall and the ones we gave her… I don’t think we have much of a chance.”

Damian huffed, “Especially once she combines her Eye with Djinn’s magic -”

“Djinn?” Bart asks, “Who’s Djinn? You keep mentioning her.”

Flushing, Damian glances at the grandfather clock ticking ceaselessly in the lounge. “She’s a team member of ours… very powerful magic, one of our strongest assets, and -”

“Damian’s got a total crush on her.”

He whips his head to glare at Wally, the other boy standing nonplussed. Instead of a smirk, a harsh line cuts across his face. As if his words were more of a tiresome fact than rope to hang him with.

His brothers gladly string him up. Dick coos, “Aw, you’ve got a crush Damian?”

“Thank God,” Jason says, “Maybe you’ll finally get that stick out of your ass.”

“Does this mean we have to chaperone you?” Tim asks, “Because I don’t want to double date…”

Duke leans forward in his seat. “Are we going to ever meet her?”

Damian waves their comments away. “This isn’t about me. And for the record I don’t have a crush.”

Jason scoffs, “Sounds like what someone with a crush would say.”

“I don’t!”

“Jason knows what’s he’s talking ‘bout,” Dick nods, clapping Jason’s shoulder, “Guy’s king of unrequited crushes.”

He brushes Dick’s hand off him. “Fuck you, at least half of them were requited.”

“Sure, and I made it to fifth base with Harley Quinn…”

Bart zips over to Tim, whispering. “What’s fifth base?”

Tim shakes his head. “You don’t want to know.”

Wally pinches his brow, reclining into his armchair. “Can we please get back to the story?”

“I would be glad to,” Damian says, “if people would let me.” Given the floor once more, Damian carries on where he left off.

They regrouped. Jon led them in a motivational speech, every word and gesture oozing small town sensibility. His father would be proud. After he rallied the troops, Saturn Girl presented schematics of the Legion headquarters. Damian and Emiko poured over the holograms, planning their assault. Satisfied with a course of action, the group returned.

Although their plans strayed early on from the course they laid. A few heroes that Saturn Girl thought were off-planet appeared and forced them to separate. Damian and Jon fled down one hallway, followed by a barrage of shrapnel. Cosmic Boy, as Jon told him, barreled their way with a Lantern and an orange lizard-creature at his side.

Jon handled the flankers, Damian keeping Cosmic Boy occupied. With power over metal most of his arsenal was useless, and he dropped it so he wouldn’t be controlled. Instead Damian relied on his training, utilizing the environment to his advantage. Waiting for Leading Cosmic Boy into a narrow hallway, snaking around the metal he pulled. Pushing his reflexes to the limit, Damian dodged each swipe until Cosmic Boy trapped himself in a cage of wires and panels.

Unable to move, Damian rabbit punched him.

Jon dumped his attackers to the floor when Damian returned, and together they advanced to the main room. Regrouping with the others, they stormed where Emerald Empress hid.

More heroes awaited them, guarding their queen while she mixed the emerald energy from her eye with Djinn’s unique purple magic. This timeline’s Doctor Fate underneath like a scale, helping to balance the power.

Knocking away a ball boy into identical triplets, Damian noticed the colors mixing together hideously. Terribly foreboding, a chill shot through his spine. “We need to stop this!” he yelled, tumbling underneath lightning.

Wally wrapped up a talking raccoon and hurled him towards a green-skinned boy. Being the only one who heard Damian, he tracked his gaze to the makeshift throne. “Okay,” he said, “let’s stop this.”

“So?” Bart asks, “How’d you stop it?”

Damian pouts, crossing his arms. “He threw me.”

“What?”

“He threw men,” he repeats, “at the Emerald Empress.”

Wally nods, smiling. “While I dealt with Doctor Fate.”

With those two erased from the equation, it was only Djinn and the Emerald Eye. Their auras swirled in battle for dominance. When it looked like the green would overtake Djinn’s purple, her eyes flashed brilliantly violet and swept over the encroaching light like a tidal wave. Purple energy coursed through the Emerald Eye until it short-circuited and turned grey. It fell to the floor, powerless.

Spell broken, the others woke from their trances. Some moaned with pain while others blinked in confusion. Their friends, Crush and Roundhouse, staggered away from Saturn Girl and Jon while returning to their senses.

“You beat the villain, big whoop,” Jason says, “still don’t see what this has to do with Bats and Flash.”

Wally rolls his eyes. “After the fight, when we were saying our goodbyes to the team…”

Roundhouse bounced between Jon, Saturn Girl, Wally and him, drawing the Legionnaires attention towards him. Asked questions with blazing speed that surpassed their speedster. Jon led him away from the group, Saturn Girl at his side while explaining a few of the concepts to sate his curiosity.

Leaving Wally and Damian open for an ambush.

“Excuse me?” someone cleared their throat behind them, “I… I can’t believe you’re actually here…”

Startled, Damian brandished a bat-a-rang immediately and spun on his heel to attack. Before he could launch his weapon, though, Wally gripped his wrist in an iron vice. “Damian, no ,” he scolded, nodding towards the frightened teenager in front of them, “ friend .”

He glared at the speedster, unrelenting in his combat stance. Wally didn’t back down either.

The newcomer looked between them, nerves dying as each second ticked on by. “Uh… is he gonna put that down?”

“Yes.” “ No .”

Wally sighed, lowering Damian’s hand. “Sorry, we’re a little on edge…”

“Yeah, yeah,” the teen said, “Emerald Empress took a lot out of all of us… your team did a great job.”

Nodding, Damian used his silence to study the newcomer. Recognizes him from their previous battle as the one with lightning powers. If he hadn’t witnessed his powers in action the costume would telegraph immediately what he can do. Lightning bolts mean two things - and he didn’t rush away like any other speedster would when presented with danger. So that meant the only other option was electricity manipulation. “Who are you?”

“Oh, right, uh -” the teen chuckles awkwardly, scratching his head, “the name’s Garth - or, uh Lightning Lad.”

“Cool. I’m Wally, Kid Flash. And my trigger happy friend is Damian -”

“ Robin .”

“...I was getting to that.”

Garth beamed, “I know, I know! I… kinda know a lot about you, actually…”

A chill raced down Damian’s spine at the giddiness crackling across Garth’s face. Being trapped with a fanboy is not what he needed. Wally tensed as well, darting his gaze over in silent communication. However a different emotion flickered behind his eyes, telling Damian to suck up whatever outburst bubbled up inside him. He snapped his jaw shut. Agreeing to play nice only because he felt too tired to cause a scene.

“Hey,” Wally started, “it’s always great to meet a fan -”

“A huge fan,” Garth cut him off, “Like, you’re such an inspiration. I remember growing up, whenever a dust storm tore through our settlement and we’d be locked inside for days , my brother, sister and I would read up on all your classic adventures.” He turns to Damian, “Both of yours.”

“I’m surprised you had time to even read about his ,” Damian smirked, “ my adventures - that have passed and are yet to come - should have been enough entertainment.”

“...Actually you’re featured in a lot of Flash’s stories.”

Damian bristled again, not caring for how Wally’s chest puffed up. Only to deflate slightly, with a sigh. “Looks like I’ll never get rid of you,” he mumbled.

Scoffing, he rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky I still hang around you after all these years…”

Garth chuckled. “Oh, man… the banter is just like they said it’d be.” He bounced where he stood, sparks jumping off his shoulders. “I really can’t believe… you two. Some of the best teen heroes. You are part of the reason I am who I am today. I’ve met Superman and Jon already… all I’ll need for my life to be complete is to meet the originals and I’ll be set!”

“Originals?” Damian asked, “What are you talking about?”

“You know, your mentors. Batman and Flash ,” Garth continued, eyes glowing blue, “Those guys, I mean… Growing up where I’m from there were some pretty strict rules on how to live your life. If you didn’t fit the mold you’d be ignored and cast aside. My brother Mekt… being born without a twin… Anyway, Batman and Flash were in your face with who they were. When they came out they didn’t bat an eye -”

“What?”

Damian and Wally leaned forward with vested interest. “What?” Wally said again, “What do you mean, ‘came out’?”

“When they publicly announced they were dating?” Garth answered, “Well… it’s not like they had a choice, what with that picture in the Gotham Gazette but - hey, they didn’t deny it! That’s…” He stilled, finally noticing the expressions of the others. “You didn’t know? But aren’t you from… wait, what year are you from?”

“2019.”

Garth paled, stepping away from them. “Oh… oh frack . I - I shouldn’t have said that, should I?”

It didn’t matter. The future dropped upon them like a bombshell. Damian’s vision whited briefly until he blinked into awareness once more. Wally’s grip on his wrist tightened, reminding him that throughout the conversation he latched on like a vice. Wrenching free, the bat-a-rang fell with a clatter.

“Please,” Garth whispered urgently, “forget I said anything. Brainy’s all about not interfering with the timeline. If he finds out I outed them he’ll kill me… and that’d really hurt my chances with the guy.” He looked between them. “You don’t have any questions, do you?”

There were a million. Except Jon returned, telling them how it was time the Titans returned to the present. Herded into the time bubble, Wally and Damian didn’t say another word about what they learned. Waiting for the perfect moment to discuss it.

With others who deserved to know.

They watch their family process the information, breath held, waiting for a response.

Bart reacts first. He snorts, drawing all focus to him. A single laugh blossoms into a full-body heave until he tips over the couch, sprawling across Damian’s brothers’ laps. “That’s really funny guys,” he wheezes, “Seriously… amazing.”

Damian scowls. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because it’s not true?”

“We were in the future, Bart,” Wally says, “How can it not be true?”

“Maybe it has to do with the fact that I’m from the future?” he says, “Because I’m Barry and Iris’s grandson . If they somehow didn’t end up together d’you think I’d still be here?”

“Then again,” Tim interrupts, “you are from a timeline that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Bart’s good mood shatters into a million pieces. Pouting, he glares at his friend. “Thanks for reminding me.”

Jason shifts under his heavy weight, rolling Bart off. “So,” he says after the heavy thud , “What are we gonna do?”

“Who says we have to do anything?” Duke says, “It sounds like them getting together is a good thing - hey !” He whacks the pillow thrown at him from its target, his face. Jason, the guilty culprit, looks remorseless. “What was that?”

“You were speaking crazy,” Jason tells him, “How can Bruce dating Barry be any good .”

Dick smirks, folding his arms across his chest. “Wow, Jason. Didn’t know you were a homophobe .”

“Fuck you, it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?”

Jason sinks into the couch, mirroring his brother. “If Bruce really is gay, bi or… queer than… it’ll be another thing we have in common,” he whines, “The more that happens the sadder I get.”

“Wow,” Dick says, voice thick with emotion. He reaches across to squeeze Jason’s shoulder. “I can’t believe… you actually followed through whenever I told you to suck a dick. I’m proud of you.”

Slapping Dick off him, Jason bares his teeth in a growl. “Keep talking and I’ll show you how I beat Dick .”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Wally zooms from his seat and breaks the two apart, hands firm against their chests. “Knock it off you two, we’re getting distracted from the bigger picture… how to make sure this doesn’t happen.”

“You mean you don’t want to be brothers, Wall?”

He rolls his eyes at Dick’s artificially sweet expression. “Batman’s creepy enough without imagining him all domestic with Barry.”

“Or all sex-like ,” Jason adds, making every wrinkle in the room crease with agony.

Damian shakes the image from his mind, switching back onto the topic at hand. “Now we’ll have to be very careful so they won’t find out we’re on to them -”

“Which’ll be hard,” Tim adds, “they’re two of the best detectives in the world.”

“But they’re only two people,” Wally says, stepping closer to Damian, “we’re a team . Trade shifts - always knowing where they are. Making sure they’re not alone together.”

Wally raises a brow at his cousin. “I bet you want to tell Superman or Wonder Woman, too… have an inside operative during Justice League meetings.”

“...That could work.”

Duke stands with a shout, interrupting the planning. “This is crazy! If Bruce and Barry want to be together than why should we get in the way? It seems like the future’s pretty good when they’re a couple. Are we really gonna get in the way of that?”

His outburst brings an unexpected bout of clarity to Damian’s plans, parting the cloudy skies for sunshine to burst through. Reminded of Garth’s casual openness about himself and his reverence to Damian’s father, he winces.

Like dominoes everyone else sobers into quiet reflection. The energy fueling the crazy planning in the room deflates, letting everyone return to their senses. Damian feels the tightness of his bones over hearing the shocking news finally settle, as if coming to terms with the future.

Dick clears his throat, the first to break the silence. “But if they do get together,” he starts, waiting until he’s found every eye in the room before continuing, “... then Jason won’t be special anymore.”

“That’s it !”

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

Bruce adjusts himself on the Batcave’s examination table, eyes fluttering shut as Barry runs careful fingers across his temple. When they stumble over the cut he hisses, a hand darting over to squeeze his.

“Sorry ‘bout that, babe,” Barry says, “that’s one well hidden wound.”

“It’s okay,” he says, “It’s my fault for letting Kite Man get the drop on me.” The mediocre villain swooped in and sliced open his cowl with the tail of his giant kite, catching the Dark Knight in a moment of weakness. If Barry hadn’t been at his side, he would have walked away with much worse.

“I’m surprised he got a few good swings in,” Barry says, dabbing at the cut with some peroxide, “You feeling okay?”

“I’ve… got a lot on my mind.”

Barry pauses, pulling away. Bruce cracks one eye open, frowning at the seriousness weighing on his lover’s shoulders.

“Nothing bad,” he continues, snaking his arms across Barry’s waist to bring him closer. Spreads his legs open so he can fit between them. He nuzzles at his chest, enjoying the frantic heartbeat that is normal for Barry Allen. “I… I’ve been thinking about us and… the future .”

“...Wanna elaborate on that so my mind won’t fill in the blanks?”

Bruce takes a steadying breath, the words rushing from his mouth afterwards. “I want to tell the boys about us.”

An eternity passes in a second, Bruce clinging tight to Barry’s body. Afraid the other man will vibrate free and out of his life. That never happens. Instead the opposite, Barry settles further into the moment. Tips Bruce’s head so he can see the beaming smile on his face.

“What brought this on?”

“I… I just think that we've been really good,” Bruce explains, hating how his nerves easily expose themselves in the tremble of his voice. “And I understood why you wanted to take this slow, in case things don’t work out. It wouldn’t be the first for either of us, to have a relationship fall apart. But everyday you stay by my side and I… I feel different. Better. Happier . And I think the same is true for you. We’re making each other better people. I love you and I love the person you inspire me to be… And I want my family to know.”

Barry offers a wet chuckle, hiding in Bruce’s hair. He kisses the cut he grazed earlier, a few tears trickling into it. Composing himself, Barry straightens in Bruce’s embrace. “I love you, too,” he says, “And if you want to tell your boys then… I want to tell the Flash family, too.”

“Really?”

“We should do it together, actually,” he continues, skin vibrating in excitement, “have some sort of family dinner!”

“They’ll immediately sense something’s up if we do that,” Bruce laughs, “You sure we can’t just call a meeting down here and… rip the band-aid off? In costume?”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Come on, it won’t be so bad. I mean what’s the worst that can happen?”

Bruce readies a response, only the clacking of Alfred’s heels interrupts him. His butler speeds over with anxious haste. “Master Bruce? Barry?”

“Yes Alfred?”

“It’s the boys.”

A headache tickles his head, adding to the pain already camping there. “Which boys.”

“All the boys,” he says, turning to Barry, “even your boys.”

“What?” Barry asks, “What are they doing here?”

“I don’t know, but a fight’s broken out!”

Barry tenses against Bruce. “A fight?”

Bruce, disappointed, sighs while sliding off the table. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure. One moment I was in the kitchen readying dinner and the next I knew there were crashing sounds coming from the parlor. When I got there Duke had a speedster in a headlock, Dick and Wally were fighting, and Jason hung Damian off the chandelier… again .”

Frowning, Bruce fixes his cowl. He looks to Barry, “Looks like family dinner will have to wait.”

Barry shrugs, mirroring him. “I can hope. Besides… that wouldn’t have been very us , would it?” He slips his hand into Bruce’s waiting one, squeezing.

“No it wouldn’t,” Bruce agrees. “Now come on, we have a fight to break up.”

#Batflash #Batman x Flash #Batman/Flash #bruce wayne x barry allen #Bruce Wayne #Barry Allen #Batman #Flash #Robin #Kid Flash #Damian Wayne #Wally West #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Bart Allen #Duke Thomas #Batflash fanfic #Batflash week

[prince-claremont-diaz]

Whatever We Become

Summary: In Lucas’ final year of high school before he has to face the real world, he comes across the new identical twins, Eliott and Leo. Needless to say, Lucas falls head over heels for both of them. 

Or The twin au absolutely no one asked for

Word count:1.8k

Ao3 version

Chapter Twelve: I miss you 

Lucas: Eliott where are you?

Lucas: Eliott?

Lucas:I have your hoodie. I'll give it back tomorrow in school.

Lucas was in a frenzy that night, pacing his bedroom sending frantic texts to Eliott. His hair was standing up in every way and his fingernails were bitten down to the nub in his anxiety. He even tried texting Leo to see if he had any clue.

Lucas: Leo, I don't know where Eliott went. Is he home?

Leo: No, he still hasn't come back and he wasn't answering all evening.

Leo: Was he with you?

Lucas: He was, but he left out of nowhere when I went to the toilet

Lucas whimpered dejectedly as he checked his messages with Eliott once again, seeing they were still unread. He messaged Leo once again, running his hand through his hair and chewing on his bottom lip.

Lucas: Can you please tell me if he comes home?

By almost 11, Lucas still hadn't heard back from either of the Demaury's. He was curled up in the corner of his bed, wrapped up in his duvet and staring at his phone screen. He clutched the blanket with one of his fists, fingers aching from the tight grip, though he paid it no mind.

Periodically, Manon and Mika came in to check on him, giving him worried and apologetic looks as he told them nothing had changed.

Finally, as Lucas was pacing the floor again, clutching one of his pillows to his chest, tears burning his eyes, his phone lit up with a notification. In his haste, Lucas nearly slammed his head on the ground, scrambling for the phone. It was already one in the morning.

Leo: Eliott is with me. He's safe, don't worry.

Lucas sobbed in relief, dropping his phone back onto his bed and letting himself fall onto the floor with a thud.

◇

The next day at school, Lucas was standing in the courtyard with Yann, Basile and Arthur, staring intensely at the entrance to the school. Deep greyish purple bags sat under bloodshot, glassy eyes, lips swollen and red from biting. Around him, the other boys' voices were distant and incoherent, blending together with the constant ringing in his ears.

Something warm and soft pressed onto Lucas' shoulder, causing him to jump, pulled from his stare to look around. Yann was peering at him with concern, one of his hands dropping to his side after Lucas' startle. The other two were looking equally as confused and concerned, pausing their conversation to look over at Lucas.

"Everything alright, man? You look like you haven't slept a bit." Yann's face softened, forehead creased in a frown. "Are you sure Eliott's coming?"

Lucas shook his head, eyes falling to the concrete as they welled up with fresh tears. "I-I don't know. He just—left yesterday. He was acting strange all afternoon and wanted to dye his hair and then after… when I went to the toilet, he was gone," Lucas said, voice shattering at the end. A fat, cold tear plopped onto the ground at his feet and Lucas wiped his face furiously with the pads of his fingers.

"He left without explanation? Just like that?" Yann said, blinking in perplexity.

"I don't know!" Lucas sobbed, throwing his hands up, "Like I said, he was acting strange all evening and then he just up and left me without any explanation. And then he apparently didn't get home until one, according to Leo."

The boys all exchanged worried looks as Lucas broke down in front of them, face red and eyes pricking with more tears. "He got home eventually, didn't he?" Yann said, draping a comforting arm over Lucas' shoulder. Lucas nodded, sniffing. "That's all that matters then. At least he got home safe."

The bell for class sounded overhead, breaking the conversation. "Come on, let's get to class, Lu," Arthur said, linking arms with Lucas. "We can't let this ruin our days, you know?"

Lucas sniffled, smiling gratefully at his friend and joining him in walking towards the school building. He threw one last look over his shoulder hopelessly and then the four boys disappeared inside together.

◇

Later that week, Lucas was sitting next to Leo in math class, silently writing down notes while Mr. Bernard droned on about graphs. Much of that lesson passed quietly between the two boys, but for tentative greetings or the whispered apologies when they bumped into each other.

However, when everyone else started to pack up in the last few minutes, Leo finally spoke up, reaching into his backpack to pull something out. It looked to be a small folded piece of paper, which Leo handed over. "Eliott wanted me to give this to you," he said by way of explanation, zipping his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder.

Lucas inspected the small parchment. It was an expensive looking off white and it had his name scribbled over the back of it in shining black ink. "What is it?" he asked, beginning to carefully unfold the sheet.

Leo shrugged. The bell overhead rang and their other classmates started to file out together, chatting amongst themselves. "I don't know. I gathered it was private, so I didn't look at what's inside." Before Lucas could reply, Leo was slipping outside into the hall with the rest of the swarm.

Drawing his eyebrows together suspiciously and casting a glance towards the door as Mr. Bernard joined the students, Lucas fully unfolded the paper and looked at its contents.

It was a drawing. Lucas recognised the same raccoon character adorning Eliott's bedroom walls, only it was now joined by a cute, cartoonish hedgehog. On one side of the mini comic, the hedgehog was standing alone in a perfect rendition of their school corridors, a distinct pout on its face. On the other side, the hedgehog was joined again by the raccoon, which had a speech bubble overhead that stated, "I miss you." Underneath the comic, Eliott scrawled: In an alternate universe…

Scribbled on the bottom right corner in the same black ink, Eliott had written: You asked me how I would draw you, so…

Lucas blinked back the tears in his eyes, catching on the edges of his lashes and carefully folded the paper again. Finally, Lucas joined the rest of the students enjoying their lunch break, slipping the paper into the back pocket of his jeans.

◇

"-We were sleeping together, Alex and I, but I don’t know if I want to make it official, you know?” Emma was saying the next day on the couch in Lucas’ flat.

Lucas was leaned back against a pile of cushions with his feet out, bottle of vodka in hand. They were trying to pass the evening with drinking too much, ignoring the other problems in their lives by drowning them in alcohol. Manon, who was using his legs as a pillow and resting her feet on the back of the couch, said, “I mean, Alex is dumb, but he has feelings doesn’t he? And you guys get along well.” She plucked the bottle from Lucas’ hands and took a swig of the vodka.

“Plus, you already know you guys have chemistry,” Lucas added, pulling the vodka back and taking another sip, spilling a bit down his chin. His head was already starting to swirl pleasantly after only a few minutes of passing the bottle around between the three of them. If he looked directly at a light, it blurred into a star shape, twinkling and turning into two or three depending on how he looked at it.

“Have you ever tried talking to him? He might surprise you with a, dare I say it, personality?" Manon teased, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively and giggling drunkenly.

Emma laughed and leaned over to take the bottle from Lucas, taking a long gulp from the bottle and wincing slightly, eyes watering from the strength of the alcohol. “You mean he can do other things besides sex?”

Manon giggled, nodding. “Well, yeah. He’s not just a…”

“A dick.”

“Exactly.”

The trio laughed, still passing the bottle back and forth between them. “At least you’ve got someone. I haven’t got anyone,” Lucas said as he tugged the bottle from Manon before she could take another sip. The other two gave him curious, puzzled looks. “Well, I don’t know what the hell happened with Eliott. He acted all weird the other day and now he won’t reply to any of my messages or even read any of them. And then yesterday, Leo gave me a drawing he made for me saying he misses me!” Lucas rambled. He let the cool liquid flood down his throat in burning hot rivulets which made his head swim and his vision began to blur at the edges.

“That’s so sweet!”

“Come on, that’s cool!”

Lucas stopped drinking for a moment, looking back at the girls with an intense, deadpan scowl. “If he really missed me, wouldn’t he reply to my texts? And giving it to me through his brother instead of doing it himself?” Lucas complained, “I don’t think he wants anything serious. He just wants to mess with my head.”

“I’m still the most fucked,” Emma replied simply, shrugging her shoulders.

“Now I just feel bad because I still have Charles,” Manon said with a pout. Just then, the front door to the flat opened and Mika walked in with their other roommate Lisa. Manon shrieked happily, sitting up as they entered. “Oh! Mika, Lisa! Come and join us!”

Mika looked the three teenagers over, raising one of his eyebrows. “Yeah, come join us. We have vodka,” Emma joined in, pointing at Lucas with the bottle of alcohol in hand.

“VODKA!”

Soon enough, the five of them had set up a mini party, blasting a party playlist on a speaker and using one of the multi-coloured lights they usually used for house parties. As the music blasted through the flat and the shifting, flashing colourful lights bounced off the walls, they jumped and danced around the room, still passing around the vodka and beginning to down bottles of beer from the fridge. They shrieked and yelled, leaping on furniture and dancing together like a meteor was set to hit the earth the next day.

Lucas’ vision blurred in and out of focus as the alcohol hit his brain, the music getting twisted and warped and everything around him seemed to slow to a standstill. Looking around at his friends, Lucas suddenly felt his heart drop as he watched everyone together, actually having fun. He was reminded suddenly of how messed up his life was and how no amount of alcohol was going to fix that. The many flashing colours burned his vision and he screwed his eyes shut as he felt tears pricking his eyes, covering his face with his hands. A flash, a split second image, blink and you'll miss it, Eliott's face staring back at him, eyes as intense as ever.

Around him, the world continued to warp and swirl, lights still flashing, music still playing and people still dancing. Meanwhile, Lucas stayed motionless in the centre, at a crossroad, as life went on without him.

#elu fic #elu #skam france #eliott demaury #lucas lallament

[elenajohansenauthor]

Fictober, Day 5: “Take what you need.”

OCs: Shannon and Noah

Project: Untitled paranormal romance for Fictober18, now tagged #spookyromancenovel on my blog

Potential Triggers: cannibalism mention

Word Count: 980

About: Half a scene, this time, which I will finish with tomorrow’s prompt, because this is not at all complete, I just didn’t have as much time today.

Also, #spookyromancenovel has a WIP page now, where you can find all the Fictober posts if you need to catch up, as well as the novel’s [temporary] blurb, character info, and eventually world-building stuff!

I sorted through a stack of take-out menus I had stuffed in a random kitchen drawer. “Is there anything you can still tolerate eating? And if not, will you be offended if I eat an entire pepperoni pizza by myself?”

Noah was still lying on the couch, but he was awake and playing a game on his phone. “Do you think they'd send me a few pound of raw ground beef with that?”

“Doesn't seem likely.” I phoned in my order, happy to hear it would only be twenty minutes delivery. That was a side benefit to closing up shop an hour early and getting home while the sun was still out. I shoved the menus back in the drawer, and noticed something that had been lost under them. “Oh. Good, that's where it was.”

“Hm?” Noah's head lolled in my direction. Awake, but lethargic.

“My spare key. Which is yours now.” I walked over and dropped it on his chest. “So you can leave at night, when you need to. To, uh, hunt and stuff.”

One dark eyebrow rose. “And stuff?”

“You've got to eat, and I don't exactly have a freezer full of roadkill for you.” I paused. “I meant that as a joke, but now I'm imagining you chowing down on a raccoon or something.”

“Bleh, no. Raccoons eat trash, so I don't eat them. I've had a few rabbits, and a possum, once. Wasn't that bad.”

I stared at him for a few moments, but his expression didn't change. “I can't tell if you're kidding.”

“I'm not, possum really was better than I thought it would be. Anything's better than ghoul, even when that's what I'm craving.” He studied my face, then sighed. “Yeah, I know, it's gross and I hate it. But it's just about the only thing left that stops the hunger pangs. Real food is like eating nothing at all.”

“Right, okay.” I went back to the kitchen, to do...what? To get away from him, I guess, so he wouldn't see me shudder. I knew all these strange, intimate details about him, right down to what magical and physical changes were shaping his body. But the idea of Noah eating rotten ghoul flesh struck me in a much more visceral way. It wasn't even that the ghouls had been human, once—I didn't think of it as cannibalism. Just that I wished there was something I could do for him, something I could give him that wasn't tainted by death.

Now that was an aspect of the curse I hadn't considered before. His body was moving away from human life, toward undeath through stone. It made sense that the magic would need to be fed with more death. But how did that work when the transformation took only a few days, instead of years? Did a gargoyle that failed to feed on carrion during its change starve and die? Or did the change fail? Where did the power to fuel the curse come from?

I had notes on this—I went to my desk and rummaged for one of my oldest notebooks. Noah sat up, cautiously, and set his phone aside. “Shannon?”

“Trying to remember something.” I flipped pages, wishing I'd come up with a better indexing system early on—my first notebooks were kind of a mess. Eventually, the passage I wanted jumped out at me.

“'A gargoyle loses many qualities of humanity during its change. Gargoyles seem to understand human speech to a limited degree, but do not speak; they produce no art or knowledge; they form no rigid societies nor utilize any form of government. While they group together, no observable pack structure emerges; any individual might scold or harass any other, for encroachment upon their space, for disturbing their rest, for crowding their supply of food. Full-fledged combat between gargoyles is only seen when food or roosting space is scarce; otherwise they seem to enjoy comfortable proximity without any strong drive to self-organize. A group, if it finds a solitary gargoyle, will absorb it unless already pressed for resources, and the individual has never been known to decline.'”

“Okay,” Noah said, stretching out the word in confusion. “I know all that already. From Observations of the Other-Human Beasts, Landingham, 1971. Read it twice that first year.”

“Noah, we've been so focused on what you're losing. Why haven't we been thinking about what you still have, and why you have it?”

Understanding passed over his face in a wave of relief. “I can still speak.” He started ticking off points on his fingers. “I'm not very good at drawing or anything, but I could make art if I wanted to. I understand the rules of human society. And I don't blindly defend my kills from other predators.” He shrugged. “Though I'm not exactly in direct competition with anyone for them, but in principle, I'd leave it if I were in danger.”

“Like if an actual gargoyle spotted you and decided it wanted your meal.”

This time, he shuddered. “I make damn sure that doesn't happen. Like it says, the group expects any lone gargoyle to join them, and I don't want to be the first one to reject them, they might tear me apart.”

We were interrupted by a knock on the door—my pizza. Once I had that sorted and was digging in to my first slice, Noah deliberately tried to lighten the mood. “What is a group of gargoyles called, anyway?”

“I have absolutely no idea.”

I set the pizza box on the coffee table between us as I sat on the floor, spreading out an assortment of notebooks and napkins over the rest of the available space.

Noah stared at the bubbly, cheesy, pepperoni-paved deliciousness with obvious longing. “Can I? Just one?”

I laughed. “Take what you need.”

#writeblr #fictober18 #original fiction #spookyromancenovel #daily word count #my writing

[fy-soukoku]

3. Shin soukoku plz

Okay, I promise I actually wrote this pretty quickly, but then the last line came up and I rewrote it fifty times. So….. yeah. But anyway, have some uber fluffy Shin Soukoku. 

(The kitten references are from BSD Wan!, btw)

3. I’m not jealous.

Atsushi notices on a clear spring day, when the scent of flowers linger in the breeze, blowing hairs back from his cheek like a caress of gentle fingers.

Akutagawa is walking quietly, (well, not that he’s ever especially talkative, but today the silence looms over like a shadow.) his hands resting stiffly by his side, clenched into fists. Atsushi had coerced him into leaving his black coat at home, and though it was with a scowl, Akutagawa had eventually relinquished his usual uniform for a soft shirt and pants. The man was on edge, shoulders tense and body language awkward even underneath the stoic mask he had painted on.

“I like springtime.” Atsushi says, in an attempt to crack the silence built up between them. “It’s warm but not too much.”

“Spring is nice.” Akutagawa murmurs. His tone makes the conversation fall flat, syllables falling into the open air and fading into the sunlight. Atsushi clenches his own fists curled up, the nails biting into the skin of his palm. He hadn’t imagined it would be this hard to interact with the man, but worming a conversation from Akutagawa’s mouth was proving to be a daunting task the longer the day went on.

Akutagawa suddenly stops, and tips his head, as if listening for something. “Atsushi, do you like cats?”

Atsushi raised an eyebrow. “Um… yeah? They’re pretty cute.” They seem to like me a lot more than I like them, though…

Akutagawa nods slowly. “I found a cat a while ago, if the Agency is interested in keeping it.”

“Why can’t you?” Atsushi asks, noting the sad glint in Akutagawa’s eyes before it fades away into steely indifference again.

“I’m too busy to care properly for an animal,” He explains. “Besides, I doubt I’d be a good owner.”

Atsushi frowns, “Why not?”

Akutagawa raised a thin eyebrow, exasperation written on his features in permanent ink. “All I do is kill things.” He says, as if that is the end of it.

Atsushi boils on that, the thought bubbling up his throat and threatening to spill out. He thought that Akutagawa was beginning to understand his worth beyond death, but maybe…

“I think you should keep it.” Atsushi blurts out, watches the sunlight stream through Akutagawa’s black hair and hit his cheekbones at a mesmerizing angle. His cheeks heat up slightly at the sight.

“Why?” He sounds so baffled that it almost breaks Atsushi’s heart. Did he really not believe he was capable of protecting an animal?

“Maybe the cat’s like you!” Atsushi decides to say, instead of the speech that had begun weaving together in his mind. “And it needs someone to take it in!”

Akutagawa frowned. But he was considering. Which was all that was needed.

“Can cats be trained to fight?” Akutagawa murmured, eyes lost in the distance, as if seeking answers.

“No!” Atsushi groaned. “That’s not what I…” He snatched Akutagawa’s phone out of his hand, as the brunette was, no doubt, googling his question. “Treat the cat like you want people to treat you!”

Akutagawa freezes. Atsushi watches him blink a couple of times, watches his eyelashes flutter against the pale skin of his cheeks. (Atsushi often wonders how somebody as uptight and intense as Akutagawa can be as pretty as he is, but the world is full of mysteries.)

“I’ll ask Higuchi to come over and help me.” Akutagawa nods, taking his phone back to text the woman in question.

“W-wait, why Higuchi?” Atsushi doesn’t like the fluttering in his stomach - it makes him nervous, causing his foot to tap up and down as Akutagawa sorts through his contacts. “I mean…” He licks his lips and swallows. “I could help you.”

Well, it gets Akutagawa to stop looking for her number. At the very least.

“You could help?” Akutagawa’s hair blows across his forehead, the soft strands brushing against ivory white.

“Yeah.” Atsushi grinned, though his heart seemed keen on attempting to leap from his chest. He ignores that part. “I could come over and help you for the first few days! Cats tend to like me, so…” He shivers as he remembers the kitten Kyouka had brought in, crawling all over his head, clinging to him like a certain raccoon.

“It would be a lot simpler to allow Higuchi to help…” Akutagawa raises and eyebrow. “I think she likes cats.” There’s a little twitch of his lips as he says, “But it sounds like you’re jealous of her spending more time with me.”

“I’m not jealous!” Atsushi shouts, cheeks so red it might as well be a sunburn. He casts his eyes to the right, staring at a patch of soft grass, wonders how it would feel to lay there. “I just… thought you should know you can help things grow too.”

Akutagawa looks so stunned in that moment, his lips opening a little bit. Hues of pink line the plains and valleys of his cheeks, dusting along the soft pattern of freckles that decorate his skin.

“We can head over now.” He says, softly, and there’s a fresh glint in his eye.

It doesn’t leave until Atsushi goes home.

#bungou stray dogs #shin soukoku #atsushi nakajima #ryuunosuke akutagawa #my writing #writing prompts #cats #fluff

[comicteaparty]

April 25th, 2019 CTP Archive

The archive for the Comic Tea Party chat that occurred on April 25th, 2019, from 5PM - 7PM PDT.  The chat focused on Castoff by Star Prichard.

Featured Comment:

Chat:

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- THURSDAY BOOK CLUB START!

Good evening, everyone~! This week’s Thursday Book Club is officially beginning! Today we are discussing Castoff by Star Prichard~! (https://castoff-comic.com/)

Remember that Thursday discussions are completely freeform! However, every 30 minutes I will drop in OPTIONAL discussion questions in case you’d like a bit of a prompt. If you miss out on one of these prompts, you can find them pinned for the chat’s duration. Additionally, remember that while constructive criticism is allowed, our focus is fun and respectfully appreciating the comic. All that said, let’s begin!

QUESTION 1. What is your favorite scene in the comic so far and why?

im probably going to go with frankie's introduction. this scene fulfilled several things for me. first, it explored more of the world in a super natural way that makes complete sense to the story and gives you a better picture. second, i super love frankie. he is a great character deserving of hugs. third, i enjoy how frankie joining the party works out. it felt like so logical how everything played out despite the difficulty in getting another person to join the party naturally.

just overall though i love frankie's addition. i think his personality is a great balance to vector and arianna's personalities since both are not the friendliest of sorts since one is super shy and the other super grumpy. and i feel like frankie perfectly fits the triforce

keii4ii

That triforce analogy is great and I agree

RebelVampire

another scene i really enjoy is the one where arianna captures vector. i love the lighting on the pages because it is so ungodly ominous and really sets the mood. plus, its the first major time we get to see magic and it looks amazing (edited)

but on the frankie train, i also enjoy how he offers vector something that arianna cannot. which is knowing what its like to be feared and kind of one-of-a-kind. cause i think this makes for a beautiful friendship between the two that offers vector more emotional support in a way than arianna can't. not to mention, one of my other fave scenes is the one where vector stands up for frankie against arianna and says nah my dude, hes coming with us. that was such a significant character growth for vector that hit me right in the feels. and i think it works cause of how vector clearly empathizes with frankie, so it all ties together

mathtans

Little one seems calm in her crib now. Hiyo, and awesome to have another creator who's a teacher. ^^

RebelVampire

hi math

mathtans

I made it through 5 of the chapters. My favourites in general through that is probably the "Wait, What" moments, just because I tend to use them myself... there was the one with Zera, about Arianna's full name, and then with Arianna, who did it about Frankie coming along with them. (Also, a hint that they're related? Hmmmm.)

Zera and Arianna that is, not Arianna and Frankie.

Good point about the Frankie and Vector similarities, incidentally. I wonder if the "Frankie" name is a riff on "Frankenstein"?

There's also the fact that "Vectors" can refer to small organisms like mosquitoes that carry diseases. I feel like there's stuff going on with names.

RebelVampire

nope arianna and frankie are related now. new head canon

arianna was also a robot this whole time

mathtans

It would explain how she died.

RebelVampire

you know what, i didnt draw the connection between frankie and frankenstein

thats a good catch math

and very fitting for the character

mathtans

Though I admit my own feelings about that are Arianna's got amnesia or something, which is why she can't be tracked.

Just kinda occurred after the dramatic reveal.

Also, since I teach math, I was already suspicious of the name "vector".

RebelVampire

QUESTION 2. The comic’s central character, Vector, has many mysteries surrounding him. What exactly do you think Vector is? Why is Vector seemingly able to do powerful magic beyond any mage? Why does Vector make everyone become almost possessed and panicked, and why are Arianna and Frankie exceptions? Why do you think Vector is wanted for treason? Is Arianna right that it’s a trumped up charge to get rid of him? If so, why would Alveria want him silenced? How do you think Vector wound up with Ms. Robins? Last but not least, what might all this have to do with the prologue’s opening scene?

mathtans

I got this. Vector's the guy who was tied up in the prologue, they were trying to use him to do crazy magics... and he wasn't the first, since it's implied there's others. But with him it went wrong and the magic ended up inside him. Arianna was that girl peeking at the door when it happened, so she's okay with the crazy eye thing, and it's why they thought she died. They want Vector back to undo the magic stuff, hence "treason" in order to get everyone interested.

Also, for Vector... coo coo kachew, Ms. Robins' son, Jesus loves you more than you will know. Whoa, whoa, whoa.

RebelVampire

math no XD

i also agree at least that vector is the guy from the prologue

and he got all the magic trapped inside him

and is now super magic baby

he is the living essence of magic

and the voice hes been hearing is the soul of magic

RumSoakedChicken

^^^

mathtans

Maybe it was a big plan to try to bring magic to the other parts of the world that went very bad.

RumSoakedChicken

but perhaps the yellow eyed one recieved a part of the magic

since i bleieve there was a lot of light paths coming off

and he was the first one we meet

mathtans

Speaking of which, massive props to starting things out with the failed radio-like device at the start. To put us into the frame of mind of magic. Sets the scene real well and acts as a misdirect later when you realize it's not worldwide.

There was actually a bunch of sneaky stuff then, like the mention of "Feron" ages and ages before it came up again. (Honestly, if the creator hadn't pointed that out, I'd have missed it.)

RebelVampire

i really need to go back and examine the prologue closely.

mathtans

I meant this part: https://castoff-comic.com/comic/chapter-1-page-8/

RebelVampire

ah. that is smart. good catch in details!

actually i take my theory back. reexamining the prologue, i dont think vector was the guy tied to the chair. but i do think hes basically an aspect of pure magic. and i agree that given all the light balls coming off the event, there are probably more of vector's kind out there(edited)

but since vector is an aspect of magic, thats why he has the effect he does. like maybe yellow magic is the magic of fear

vector was a yellow lantern all along

mathtans

Oh, that's an interesting idea. I like that. Since magic is colour based in this world.

(Zera is Green Lantern?)

RebelVampire

yeah see this is just an origin of the lantern corps story.

but i think vector being an essence of magic ties in all the dots. but rather than the voice being the soul of magic, maybe its the guy who probably got killed during that event.

mathtans

So how is Arianna red if zombies are supposed to be black lanterns...

RebelVampire

though if there are more vector's, youd think theres be more wanted posters. unless vector is the only one they never found

cause shes not a zombie probably

mathtans

There was no picture of Vector since he was just a wee one at the time. And I think it was said he was the only one with no image. The others they had pictures for. So if they weren't found, they're probably in hiding.

Probably amnesia. Zombie is a fun thought though.

RebelVampire

i mean its not impossible for her to be a zombie.

mathtans

An amnesiac zombie?

RebelVampire

another point for why i love vector and frankie's relationship though, if we go through this vector is magic theory, it means he and frankie are polar opposites. making their friendship more beautiful

best of both worlds i see

i can respect that

mathtans

That's pretty cool, actually. Do you ship them?

RebelVampire

i dont think i ship vector with anyone yet cause vector has to do some character growth first.

mathtans

Fair. (I think all I can ship is Arianna and Sonja. And the latter seems to have a thing for Zera.)

I do like Arianna's nickname habit.

kayotics

Popping in late to say Arianna is my fav because I’m a sucker for angry girls

mathtans

Hi kay. Cool. She seems to have had a harsh childhood.

RebelVampire

i wonder what her nickname for zera would be

maybe raccoon

cause of the dark circles

mathtans

She seemed to know him, from Zera's mental flashback. She was saying things were his fault. So maybe "jerkface".

RebelVampire

that is also plausible

actually tbf, double plausible

cause i doubt shes gonna be happy to know hes the reason shes wanted

whereas if he had just left it alone everything would be fine

and only vector would be the wanted man

mathtans

Yeah, puts a wrench into her plans. Whatever those are.

Maybe she's trying to find out her true identity. What with the amnesia.

(I should fix this broken record.)

RebelVampire

the plot twist is zera was what she wanted to steal back all along

QUESTION 3. Besides Vector, Arianna herself has some mysteries surrounding her. Who exactly is Arianna? Is she the real Arianna Marcel, or did she steal the name? If the latter, why would she steal it? Who is the real Arianna Marcel to Zera? What do you think will happen when Zera catches up with Arianna in his quest for truth? How do you think Arianna wound up on the streets as she mentions regarding her past? What do you think Arianna is after in the capital, and why was it taken from her? Ultimately, how do you think Arianna’s quest to retrieve her stolen property will interfere with her taking care of Vector and getting him home?

arianna is probably that person whose name got covered up by the speech bubble on that one page. and i think arianna took the name out of sorrow for missing who im just gonna assume is her sister. cause she desperately wished she was the one who was dead

mathtans

All you other Arianna's are just imitating so won't the real Arianna please stand up, please stand up...

I'm not sure which name coverup you mean, but I think it is clever how the art does faded bubbles for when someone's half unconscious or when someone's talking over someone else.

I do feel like Arianna's the real one though. And that she was the one spying in the prologue, as I said.

RebelVampire

i will try to find the page im talking about

the alternate is that she is the real arianna and the one who dies was her sister. i dont discount that

given the same last name i assume siblings tho?

in regards to the relationship between zera and her

mathtans

Tempting. Could be cousins.

RebelVampire

https://castoff-comic.com/comic/chapter-5-page-11/

that page bottom right

so there is clearly someone else with the marcel named that exists or once existed

mathtans

Ahhhh! So that's the mystery sister.

(Incidentally, been reading Chapter 6 in the background here. Elves are colour-coded too... makes me wonder if it's personality based or what.)

RebelVampire

i think when zera catches up to arianna hes gonna have a my life is a lie conflict and realize that whether shes the real one or not, he was never told everything about the death. cause the death of the real or fake arianna i think has a lot to do with why she was on the streets

i did get the impression the auras were based on personality

like arianna is super angry therefore gets the red magic

i feel somewhere it was mentioned real arianna's aura was pink?

which is why i do think this arianna is the sister of the real arianna. that apparently zera didnt care about at all. for shame zera. especially cause if i knew there was another marcel id be searching for that one to make sure there were no shenanigans

mathtans

Yeah, Zera said pink. Which is close, which is why I think she was just mentally tweaked a bit. Also, Arianna's eyes do the red glow thing, and I don't think that's necessarily true of others doing casting?

Starfish

Okay I’m back from class Will have to leave again in a bit but I just caught up reading everything and I’m enjoying all the theories

mathtans

Yay class! Next comes the grading. What a life. ^.^

Starfish

Ehehe, I’m technically an assistant teacher so no grading for me~

I’m an assistant ESL teacher in Japan- my part of teaching is mostly “get the kids to practice their English” via games and stuff

mathtans

Fair enough. Didn't mean to vector us off track. ^.^ Incidentally, I originally thought that maybe Vector's power didn't work on Frankie because he only had the one eye, so the eyepatch was saving him. Until the whole metal revelation.

biab

RebelVampire

ya know tbf that was a decent theory before the metal reveal.

im sticking with our arianna being fake and think shes after something of the real arianna's. like a magic gem or something. i do think down the line arianna is gonna have to pick which is more important: the thing she was trying to get or vector. and i think shell be a good person and pick vector cause shes growing and learning its not cool to sacrifice ppl for your aims

on a side note i hope we get to meet her merc company

im interested to see them(edited)

mathtans

Maybe they have gem boasting nights out. "Mine's bigger" and all that.

RebelVampire

i hope thats true somewhere in the comic's world XD

mathtans

It might be why people are annoyed at the elves.

Heh, "Best Friends plus Arianna", nice one. Made it to Chapter 7.

RebelVampire

i found it interesting that even the elves freaked out at vector. cause the minute they appeared that was the largest question on my mind. if theyd be effected or not

QUESTION 4. Of course, there are a few other mysteries present within the story. Do you think there is any story related reason only some continents in the world have magic? Why do you think Frankie, a machine, was created? Further, what is Frankie doing in Kardia in the first place? How do you think Frankie might help or hinder Vector and Arianna getting back to Alveria, especially since he’ll be aiding criminals? Back in Alveria, why do you think General Brisse was so critical of Zera? Do you think he might know something the others don’t? Overall, what do you think will happen once the characters are back in Alveria? Who will side with who on this matter?

i do think the lack of magic might be related. but i kind of think maybe its the opposite to what was already stated. and that the ppl in the prologue were trying to monopolize magic so they could be the superior country

mathtans

I think Frankie coming to Kardia is related to his injuries. Like he escaped from his creators or something. That's why they couldn't fix him and he had to do it himself.

Hmmm, maybe there's some big magic/tech war going on in the background and only the General is in on it. The magic people are temporarily undefended what with Vector having most of the magic bottled away, hence why their shield is only around their castle and not the whole capitol, and why they want Vector back - or dead, if that would spread the magic around.

RebelVampire

i considered that as a possibility. cause usually magic and tech are at war. and weve already seen evidence that magic users think tech is dumb cause how silly of ppl to want things that magic can already do.

but also math how dare you suggest frankie has such a tragic past

hes too innocent for that

and i have to go weep in the corner for him now

frankie was probably created with not good intentions. i mean i could pretend he was meant to test the legs of tech and see how far they could go. more likely they just wanted a robot assassin

am i the only one who things brisse has something to do with arianna's death? cause he seemed really critical of what is actually a good lead to finding a criminal he super wants. and i mean it could just be the last name thing, but i still get the impression he knows something

mathtans

Aw. I feel like all the characters have tragic pasts though. And when Frankie told his story, I did wonder why he had to fix himself up... like, did he maybe even kill his creator? And repressed the memory along with the defense personality?

I think Brisse is just pretty focussed and has probably read Zera's files. I could be wrong. Though it reminds me of Terran. I like him as a secondary character. Good puns, and good plans for circumventing things that aren't technically against the rules.

RebelVampire

yes i appreciate him having a loose interpretion of what he should and shouldnt do

i hope the creator isnt dead just for the story potential tbh

for frankie

cause thats just what they need

frankie's creator showing up to say "hey frankie what up"

and frankie can be like "oh noooooo"

mathtans

Twist, Frankie's creator is a zombie.

Still thinking about side characters actually, the scene between the bookstore woman and the priest was nice. Kind of superfluous at first glance, but it gave Vector more backstory and added more to the world.

Also confirmed not-dead.

RebelVampire

yeah i was intrigued by that scene. but tbf as a character ms robins is useful cause she can give us insight into whats going on in the capital outside of the royal guard

cause surely shell see the wanted poster at some point

and go wtf

maybe even try talking to someone

get thrown in jail

tell vector if he doesnt show up theyll assume she did the treason

i took that from happy to sad

very quickly

mathtans

That's a very good point. I hadn't considered that.

Maybe she'll meet them as they're approaching the city.

RebelVampire

yeah she could also be a key ally in helping them

cause for sure i think itll be obvious to the guards at a point theyre heading back to the capital

mathtans

She does seem very overprotective. I wondered about her reaction initially, as Arianna didn't seem so bad. Then, of course, she proved to be self-serving.

RebelVampire

after they get frankie his own wanted poster

mathtans

Wanted... for cuddling.

RebelVampire

wanted for being a great dude

mathtans

One other thing I want to mention before we wrap up is I dig the art style on the characters. I'm not quite sure what it is, the larger eyes or the hairstyles or some mix? But I like it.

Just don't get Frankie wet. He's like a gremlin.

RebelVampire

yeah i really love the art style as well. although what sells it for me is the magic. that magic circle in the prologue was beautiful with how it glowed and made me eager to see more of the magic.

but i might just be a sucker for magic circles

before we close out i do want to say i think zera will join forces with the main trio at some point

mathtans

Oh, I dig magic circles too. Big Nanoha junkie over here.

RebelVampire

cause zera does not seem like someone whod look at shady stuff going on and be like "im ok with this"

mathtans

Zera does seem to have a conscience. I think they'll butt heads first though.

RebelVampire

oh for sure

i hope terran finds something interesting in zera's file

like zera has a side career as a juggler once

mathtans

He finds... a magic square!

(Hey, if colours can vary, why not shapes. )

RebelVampire

ya know what, despite that being a joke thatd be very interesting

COMIC TEA PARTY- THURSDAY BOOK CLUB END!

Sadly, this wraps up this week’s Thursday Book Club chat for now. Thank you so much to everyone for reading and joining us! We want to give a special thank you to Star Prichard, as well, for making Castoff. If you liked the comic, make sure to support Star Prichard’s efforts however you’re able to~!

Read and Comment: https://castoff-comic.com/

Star’s Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/castoff

Castoff’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/CastoffComic

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