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#virgil writes
splattered-ink · 23 days
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I miss when my poetry was happy
When I put my pen to paper
And used stardust as my ink
Painting marvelous scenes
Straight from the cosmos
Now my poems are jaded
Full of agony and sorrow
Inked in mud and blood
There's nothing wondrous
About these words
Not anymore.
I miss when my poetry was happy
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sinister-things · 1 year
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Can't Take My Eyes off You
Loosely inspired by this post by @fabuloustrash05
⚠️TW: One mention of food⚠️
Synopsis: Hamato Yoshi– or, Mr. Splinter is a very wealthy man, owning multiple dojo's across New York City. When he announces a gala event in hopes of his son, Donatello, finding that special someone, your parent's force you– New York City's "IT Girl" to attend. What could go wrong?
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Everything was set and ready. The food was from all around the world, Splinter had hired the greatest orchestra in town, and everything about the room screamed "I make eight figures!"
To put it nicely, you were an IT Girl. You were beautiful, rich, had deals with multi-million dollar brands, and the media loved you.
You made your way to the food table, heads turning by the mere sight of you.
This event was supposed to last for five hours. You only knew of Mr. Hamato because your younger cousin attended one of his dojo's.
You had never met his son, Donatello, prior to this. You had heard of him and his intellect, but had never met him in person.
"Oh, mi gosh!" You heard a voice squeal.
You turned to investigate the sound, only to find a humanoid turtle donning an orange bandana standing a few steps behind you.
"Hello, can I help you?" You asked him.
He was buzzing with excitement. "You're Y/N, you were on the cover of Vogue last month!"
You chuckled at his excitement. "And you are?"
"Oh–" The boy blushed, "I'm Mikey, I'm a really big fan," Mikey told you. "Can I take a picture with you?" He asked bashfully.
"Sure!" You popped the last finger sandwich in your mouth and crouched beside him, flashing your famous smile.
He waved as he walked away, cellphone in hand, likely to post the picture somewhere.
You continued on with your night, chatting up a few of your other rather famous friends.
"Not to sound rude, but," You furrowed your eyebrows. "Why are you here? You already have a girlfriend." You asked.
Your friend Kelly, a model, huffed. "My sister was invited, and you know she can't be left alone for more than five seconds," she laughed.
The two of you heard a gasp, followed by an "Oh my god, it's you!"
You both turned to see your mutual friend, Iseul, a kpop idol. You smiled as the three of you caught up with each other's lives.
You three laughed and genuinely had a good time. But during the entire conversation, you had a weird feeling. Like you were being watched.
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From across the room stood– for lack of a better word, the prettiest girl in New York.
Y/N L/N, the quote-unquote "IT Girl" of New York was talking with two other girls. Kelly Blare, a model from Newfoundland, and Kim Iseul, a Korean singer known for her stunning appearance.
Y/N was mostly known for her modeling career. For some reason, brands fought to the death to even have one of their products in the background of an Instagram post.
She was on every billboard, every cafe window, every magazine cover, everything! You couldn't walk down the street and not see her face.
Everyone knew who she was.
Everyone knew her name.
Mikey was a big fan of Y/N, using her modeling shoots as inspiration for his various art pieces and following her on every social media he had.
The press adored her! Always praising her actions and beauty, painting her as this divine being who could do no wrong.
And Donnie would be lying if he said he didn't have even the smallest crush on her.
Donnie never expected himself to be one of those lovestruck fools, blindly admiring someone he barely knew. In fact, he laughed at the idea. Him, falling in love? Heavens, no. Impossible!
He never cared for the various celebrities and socialites his father met with. But when he saw you, something changed.
He hated to admit it, but the gossip was true: you were more beautiful in person than in a picture.
But there he stood, face redder than Raph's mask. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his head as he watched you laugh at something Kelly said.
Pathetic. He was pathetic.
You had captured his heart, just as he feared someone would. The sight of you nearly making him forget how to breath, captivating him with your presence alone.
But you looked so unreal! You've most likely had thousands, if not millions of people profess their love for you. What would make Donnie stand out from the rest?
Donnie's heart stopped when the two of you locked eyes. He dropped the glass he was holding and found himself running in the direction he came.
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You chased after the person. "Wait, come back!" You called to them.
You found yourself running through the various hallways of the estate, the person not stopping for a second.
"I just wanna talk!" You called desperately, picking up your speed.
With every twist and turn, you tried calling out to the person, hoping to persuade them to stop and talk.
The person ran out the nearest door they saw, you quickly following in pursuit.
Your legs burned, begging to rest. But you weren't going to until you stopped this stranger in their tracks.
You climbed a steep, grassy hill. There was a large, looming tree standing at the peak, a bench underneath it. Sitting down, you smiled.
"Hi, what's your name?" You asked. That was a good conversation starter, right?
"I'm Y/N," You told him, hoping to gain his trust. "I like your suit!"
The person scuffled to the other side of the bench, you only following. They fiddled with their jacket for a few seconds before muttering a response.
"I'm sorry..."
You were confused. "For what?"
"For staring..." He admitted.
You bounced your knee, a smirk growing on your face.
"Well," you leaned forward– not to close, but close enough that you could see him blushing. "I'll forgive you if you tell me your name."
He bit his lip, looking to the ground. Sighing, he met your eyes.
"Donatello..."
You gasped. "Donatello? As in, Donatello Hamato?" You asked him curiously. He nodded.
"And you're Y/N," his ashamed frown began turning into that of a smile. "The prettiest girl in New York,"
You're reaction was a mix of shock and flattery. "Well, I think you're the smartest guy in this city," you told him.
Donatello's face went red. "Really?"
You nodded, "I've heard of all the different kinds of tech you've made, it's pretty cool!"
His face lit up, smiling like a child who saw Santa Claus. Someone praised his tech? He's been waiting for this!
The two of you rambled on about your interests, your passions and your dreams for hours.
From the corner of his eye, Donnie saw April and his brother's cheering him on from inside the house.
He rolled his eyes, ignoring his family and his blush for the time being, focusing his thoughts and smile on your adorable rants.
He sighed, realizing what was happening to himself. He, who laughed in the face of Cupid, was head over heels for the prettiest girl in New York City.
In the span of four hours, you had managed to make him smile and laugh more than he had in a single month.
But down the line, you and Donatello are as happy as can be. Whether sixteen or sixty, one thing is for sure: he couldn't take his eyes off you.
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virgil-upinthestars · 3 months
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when it's the 1980s and people in your small town start disappearing, and the only one you can turn to is the blonde goth girl . . . .
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romantichore · 1 year
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it's no longer wip wednesday
buuuut we need to restart somewhere! last week I'd been tagged by @thequeenofthewinter so I'm just going to go ahead and say that I'm cashing it in this week 😌
another day, another Skyrim snippet - only this one gets a little hot as it goes. nothing more than suggestive language/musings for now, but buyer beware and all that.
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Surely, it must have been the mead.
Something about the sweetness of it, the honey that lulled the senses, the tinge of spice at the very end. The way it swirled about in the tankard, a drop spilled over her fingers when a joke had been too bawdy to handle and she had laughed a tad bit too hard. It must have been the mead, her eyes filled with happy tears, hand coming up to cover her mouth when her giggles became much too embarrassing.
The feeling still lingered when the room quieted down, a slump of shoulders, deep satisfied breaths, bottles clinking together as they were pushed across the table, a reward to the storyteller for a job well done. Amusement still pulled at the corners of her mouth when she licked the mead off her fingertips, one and then the other, it seemed to taste all the better now, like good humors had seasoned it some. Her little endeavor nears its end when she gives her index finger the softest of suckles, only to find that a string of pearlescent liquid ran down her palm, making its way to the tip of her pinky, not enough time to catch the droplet that snuck its way between her breasts. A sticky mess to deal with in the morning, she huffs in annoyance as she scans the table for the dish rag she knew had to be around here somewhere.
She looks up in hopes that her little mishap had gone unnoticed, pointer finger still resting against her bottom lip, and while most of the other Companions had carried on with their conversations and merry making, one stares openly at her, a slight furrow to his brow, lips parted and gaze trailing from her cleavage to her lips and back again.
Farkas takes a deep breath and she follows suit, falters right at the end like there was not enough air in the hall when he gives the most wolfish of smiles, tongue gliding from one pointy canine to the other. She is not the only one to be caught off guard, his moment of reverie broken when icy blue eyes meet her sunny yellow ones, a clash neither would ever tire of but had yet to find the words to say it.
It must have been the mead, she had never been one to handle her drink very well, it felt like everything had changed the moment she looked at him and understood exactly what it was that went through his head. There was a heat to it, not like embers on the forge or the midday sun, like sore muscles after a good fight, like an embrace after danger has passed; like bright red skin when you are caught staring with too much desire in your eyes. It is more than enough to send a shiver down her spine, the kind she has never quite felt, a different type of danger, a new kind of apprehension.
Instead of cold fear she finds viscid warmth, a daze that seems to last forever and she makes no effort to get away from. Instead she repays in kind, suddenly lost between his handsome features and the trail of hair on his chest that disappears under the collar of his shirt, leaving far too much to the imagination.
Imagination, that she had aplenty, and there was no use denying that he figured often in her thoughts. Sweet, caring Farkas, arms always open wide to hold her, a heart that made Jorrvaskr a home no matter how long she had been away. Strong, brutish Farkas, arms always at the ready to pick up a sword, the heart of a predator who knows not what it is to be anything but.
Sweet, caring Farkas, she found herself yearning to speak to him after her journeys, to have him tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, to rest against his chest while they chatted the hours away when the hall became too noisy and their heads too heavy. Strong, brutish Farkas, no one she would rather have by her side in a fight, no fiercer defender, no one better to pry open stubborn vials and lift heavy crates of equipment.
Rarely did she allow those thoughts to meet somewhere in the middle, sweet, brutish Farkas holding her in a tight embrace, strong, caring Farkas carrying her in his arms. Sweet, brutish Farkas, looking down at her with a soft smile, a hand gently cupping her face as he thrust harder, deeper, she will be sore in the morning and would not have it any other way. Strong, caring Farkas, hands firmly planted on her buttocks as he held her up against the wall of some dusty tavern, eyes trained on her to gauge her pleasure.
Quickly she had learned it was best not to wander, the halfway point a deliciously dangerous one, such improper thoughts to have towards a man who had shown her nothing but friendship and kindness. But it had not been all, had it? She may have pretended otherwise, she may have looked the other way, but whatever this bubbling feeling was that rested just below the surface, he had felt it just the same.
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romantichore-blog · 2 years
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blood & steel (ao3)
The monster that stalks the forest is gone, but it now haunts Heisenberg's every thought. Try as he might to forget her, their paths cross once more - and this time he will not let his pride get in the way. (Heisenberg x OC)
Blood & Steel is the sequel to my first fic, Ash & Soot. if you’re new to the whole thing, however, fear not! Blood & Steel is being written in a way to give as much context as possible, so you can catch up when you have the time. also, while technically an OC, the main character is left intentionally vague, and uses she/her pronouns.
for both fics, general trigger warnings related to the RE franchise apply, and other warnings are listed when necessary. starting from chapter 5 (that's the next one), it'll be posted both on ao3 and here on tumblr. happy reading and I hope to see you there!
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lefaystrent · 1 month
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"I want to tell you something."
Thomas speaks the words into the quiet of the kitchen. He stares down at the pot of water sitting on the stove. The burner has been lit, and the heat rises. Soon, the water will boil.
"And it's- it's something that I've thought for a long time now. Years. But I've never said anything."
The smallest of bubbles rise to the surface. Over his shoulder, Thomas can see Patton sitting at the bar.
"It's okay. Take your time," he says. His nose scrunches up as he smiles. His glasses reflect a scattering of kitchen light.
Thomas snorts. "I think years is enough time." He breaks a bundle of pasta in half, letting them fall gently into the steaming water. He adjusts the temperature, then shifts on his feet. "I've just...never said anything," he repeats.
"You don't have to say anything at all." Janus sits at the bar instead. He wears a frown, and he's leaned over the surface with his chin in a propped palm, but the patience in his gaze belays his bored demeanor. "If you don't want to, you don't have to. I certainly won't force you."
Want to? No.
Thomas shakes his head and stirs the pot. "I think I need to."
"Do you?" Logan sits at the bar. His arms are folded over his tie, but it's not an intimidating pose. It's careful. Considerate. "I'd like you to take a moment to 'check yourself before you wreck yourself', as they say. Is that how you use that phrase?"
Thomas rolls his eyes, and yet he's smiling. This is a heavy topic, but it's not constricting. He stirs the noodles easily and they begin to fold together like they were made to. "I'm okay. I don't need to think about it more. I'm not anxious, not really."
"Yeah?" And now it's Virgil sitting at the bar. He stops as if he had been caught in the middle of playing with the string of his hoodie. Then he smooths down the front of his clothes. No ruffles here. He nods. "Good. That's good. That's good, right?"
Thomas still smiles. "Yes, that's good." The pasta softens as it swirls around the water. Round and round it goes. When will it stop? Nobody knows.
"Well don't just keep me in suspense!" Remus slams his hand down on the bar. And then he does it again and again, maybe just to hear the smack, smack, smack. He's not grinning maniacally or anything. Just a quirk of his mustache. A glint in his eyes. A cocked brow. "You know I love a good tease... but this is playing too coy!"
Thomas heaves a huge sigh. "I guess I just..." He trails off. He knocks the spoon against the pot's rim to shake off the water. He sets it aside. "I just don't want this to change anything."
The warmth of the burner blankets his face. The stove vent thrums above his head, and distantly Thomas hears the air conditioner click on. A light sheen of perspiration beads across his face, but its not wholly unpleasant.
Would it be bad? If this did change anything?
Roman sits at the bar. His shoulders are low, like all the breath has left him. He watches Thomas calmly with sad eyes. "What have you got to lose?"
In the pot, the pasta swirls and swirls until it's ready.
"I love you," Thomas finally says, and he turns to look over his shoulder to find that it's himself who sits there.
The other him beams proudly. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"
Satisfied, Thomas flicks off the stove burner and drains the water in the sink. He stirs together noodles, hamburger meat, and red sauce, until its in perfect measures, just the way he likes it.
After making himself a plate, Thomas sits at the dining table. He is alone with himself, and he's alright with that.
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buglaur · 6 months
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this is kit, please commission some art from them on social bunny 🙏
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goldnskyart · 5 months
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We’re simply meant to be~
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Prinxiety Jack and Sally>>>
I just wanted to redraw the one I made last year but I decided to do the kiss scene too and it accidentally turned out better-
Close ups and last years under the cut
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the way Roman started off as a proper prince; regal accent, poetic catchphrases and all. and then that accent started disappearing as he started speaking more and more like just a normal guy, disguising his pain with cringy jokes, trying desperately to get everyone's attention, no longer self-assured and prideful, because he's no longer Thomas's hero.
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loganslowdown4 · 5 months
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Patton: I’m a bit chilly
Roman: Here, have my jacket, love.
Virgil: I’m cold too.
Janus: *tosses him a lighter* Here. Go nuts.
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delimeful · 5 months
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the end of being alone (6)
remember how this installment was mostly fluff up until this point? we'll get back to that! 
... just not this chapter <3
part 2: how does a kid end up stranded in space, anyhow?
warnings: bad self care, illness, panic, child in distress, minor injury, non-consensual drug use, trafficking, unethical imprisonment and treatment of prisoners, child endangerment, implied offscreen minor character death, ambiguous character fates, this is a heavy tearjerker chapter but it does have a hopeful ending, lmk if i missed any
-
Virgil’s condition hadn’t improved.
They’d tried as many non-medicinal techniques as they could, struggling to figure out what would help and what would harm an unpredictable biological system that they barely understood.
Nothing had helped. Nothing was working.
And each time Virgil woke up to the sight of the ship around him, he wept and struggled and shouted, burning through his meager energy and only worsening his health.
He didn’t respond to heartfelt pleas from any of them, rarely even seeming to understand they were in the room with him. His stare was distant and terrified, his mind somewhere else, and each time it happened, Logan wanted to understand how to help so badly.
So, after several cycles without sleep and with the pressure of increasing desperation weighing heavy on his head, he finally succumbed to the deeply unwise impulse to start a Vidi.
He’d only wanted to understand what Virgil was yelling, try and grasp the reason behind his fear in the hopes that they could abate it, even slightly.
The moment he’d made contact, however, his mind had been dragged into a memory with intense force, the metaphorical handles of the Vidi ripped away, leaving him unable to steer and barely able to move.
His fingers twitched with the urge to pull away, but he stopped himself. It could hurt Virgil, and he’d endured plenty of traumatic memories before. He could handle this.
With a blink, he was looking through a much younger set of eyes.
The ship came during the summer.
Virgil remembered, because he’d been reviewing holidays and important events with his class before the break, and his half-birthday was coming up in a week!
His birthday was in winter, so his half birthday was in the opposite season, summer! He’d said as much before trying to debate his way into a trip to the park with his friends, and failing miserably.
So, he’d snuck out. And gotten himself lost between one turn of the neighborhood and the next.
He’d run into one of his neighbors, who’d been more than a little concerned to see him wandering around alone, especially because there had apparently been some people disappearing lately.
“Where did they go?” he’d asked, and gotten an uncomfortable reassurance, which definitely wasn’t an answer.
He’d frowned, tried to ask again, but his neighbor had gone quiet and grey-faced, staring at something over his shoulder. Before he could turn to see, there was a sharp thunk, and a bright bolt of pain in his shoulder.
There was a high, crackling scream, which was bad, but Virgil couldn’t keep his eyes open long enough to figure out where it came from. A pair of warm hands caught him when he staggered, and then he was out.
He barely recalled what happened next, the memories fragmented like someone had taken a hammer to them. He didn’t want to think about them, but he kept the pieces close and tucked away anyhow, knowing they were important even though they hurt.
He felt flickers of awareness, the sensation of eyes rolling against heavy eyelids, a rapid pulse pounding away in his ears like a big drum, angry and fearful shouting barely audible beyond the clamor.
And then: the barest glimpse of the docking port of a ship from the inside, the entrance ramp folding up and sealing away the green trees and blue sky on the other side. Replacing the brief vision of home with cold metal and unearthly lights.
There weren’t any warm hands holding him, now.
His whimper turned nearly soundless on the way up his throat, but it drew the attention of his captors regardless.
A rush of unfamiliar language above him, another flood of numbness spreading through him, but even from that one fragmented moment, Virgil understood that they were taking him away.
Another blank period, like dipping one's head briefly underwater, and then he was waking up again.
“Easy, baby,” a familiar voice said, a hand stroking through his hair, slow and gentle. “You’re okay, you’re alright.”
“Miss Susan?” Virgil asked, and his voice came out small and crackling. He coughed, trying to force his crusted over eyelashes apart with a growing sense of panic.
“Hey, I need some water for the kid!” Miss Susan called lowly, before setting a hand against his back and helping him shuffle upright. “Take it slow, baby, don’t choke. There we go.”
Virgil opened his eyes and got his first look at the room he’d be stuck in for the next several months.
It was dimly lit, and smelled bad. The floor was metal, with a few thin stripes of grating, like a shower drain. The walls were made of tinted plastic and covered with sharp-edged wire netting, and there were a whole bunch of people inside with him and Miss Susan.
They all spoke to him at one point or another, but he only remembered some of their names. The thought made his stomach twist painfully, and he clamped down on the sensation.
He couldn’t be sick. Being sick was bad.
The time shifted, Miss Susan still at his side but her hair longer and her skin sallower. They were all seated, tired from the cold and the dark and the gross food that he wasn’t allowed to throw up.
Mister Ben was coughing, hard and rasping and wet, one after another. A few people were crouched near him, talking to him in hushed voices as they tried to coax him into stopping, but his body curled in and convulsed like he couldn’t control the coughs at all.
Before long, there was a clang, and a spraying sound like that time a fire hydrant down the road had been busted open. A few people stood between the door and Mister Ben, but the room grew more and more hazy with the thick air that made his legs go all numb, and they were swaying with the effort of staying upright.
Virgil knew by now what happened next. He turned and pressed his face against Miss Susan’s side, and she drew him close and held him tightly as the suits came in.
The aliens were always wearing them when they came into sight. Thick rubbery suits with dark-tinted visors, each with an electric zapper in hand. They’d drag the sick one out, and Virgil would never see them again.
“Leave him alone!” Miss Susan cried, joined by the rising voices of the rest of their roommates. “Don’t touch him, you leave him the fuck alone!”
Virgil kept not looking, but he said it too, into the worn fabric of Miss Susan’s blouse. “Leave him alone, don’t touch him, leave him alone, don’t touch him, leave him alone…,”
It didn’t work. It never did. The aliens didn’t listen to them, and they made them weak and floaty if they tried to intervene.
His voice cracked as he kept repeating it, even as the door clanged again and the hiss of air stopped. If he didn’t look up, he could pretend that Mister Ben was still there, only quiet because he was all better from his cough.
"It's okay. I know. It's alright, honey." Miss Susan’s hands shook as they stroked carefully through his hair, soothing him to sleep through the last of his hiccuped sobs.
Everyone who spoke to him was kind, even when they were unhappy. When Miss Susan slept but he was awake, Mister Aaron would invent word games to play or Miss Kelsey would challenge him to push up contests, and they would all take turns trying to think of the worst possible combinations of foods to compare to their mush food.
The best was Miss Susan, though. When he was bored, she would tell him stories about her nieces and nephews, and the farm she grew up on, and silly people at her job before they got taken. When he couldn’t sleep, she would hum whichever parts of lullabies she could remember.
Even when he got sad and didn’t want to move or talk at all, she would hold him close and poke at his side and gasp about seeing the firefly that had snuck onboard with them, until he had no choice but to wiggle free and inspect every corner for its light.
The other adults would spot it every once in a while, too, and try to point it out to him. He never saw it, which he would report back to Miss Susan every time.
“Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there,” she’d tell him, waving at the dark ceiling of the room. “Glowbugs can’t be bright all the time.”
“Why not?”
“Well, they’d get too hot and sweaty. They’d have to go swim in the ocean, and then they’d probably all turn into anglerfish,” Miss Susan said, even though she hadn’t known what an anglerfish was until Virgil had told her everything he could remember about them.
“No way,” he said, laughing despite himself. “Bugs can’t turn into fish!”
“Maybe they just get too tired, then,” Miss Susan said, ruffling his hair. “It must be exhausting, being so bright.”
She went quiet for a moment, and Virgil leaned into her touch, squinting at the dark corners and willing the bug to show itself.
“Even when they’re blending in with the dark, though, they’re still there,” Miss Susan finally continued. “So don’t give up. You’ve just gotta trust in it, and eventually, you’ll spot it.”
“I want eventually to be now,” Virgil had responded, petulant as he flopped against her side, eyes growing heavy.
Miss Susan pet his head, humming quietly until he was almost asleep. She let out a big sigh, and when she spoke, her voice was quiet. “You and me both, kid.”
And then it was the last day.
He knew because Miss Susan’s hands were carefully cupping his face, coaxing him into waking up with a careful tap to the nose. They never woke him up on purpose, because 'growing kids needed their rest', except for the last day.
Virgil felt his brow scrunch with confusion even before his eyelids started fluttering, and Miss Susan chuckled and pressed her lips to the crown of his head for a moment.
“Come on, baby, wake up. It’s important, okay?”
He forced himself to open his eyes and keep them open, a little unease running down his spine.
Everyone had been scared, lately. Their group had shrunk in number, their room had been moved onto a bigger ship, and there were distant sounds of crowds at all hours, making his skin prickle with nerves when he was trying to sleep.
Some of their roommates were really smart, and they’d started puzzling out the words of the alien language from the ship directions that were given over the intercom and the overheard conversations of those passing by or rudely peeking in at them.
They’d taught Virgil some of them, whenever he was awake enough to remember. The words they whispered now weren’t ones he’d learned yet, though.
‘Transfer’ and ‘auction’. Everyone disliked them, felt too upset or angry about them to explain, even Miss Susan. Or maybe they just didn’t want to explain them to him, like they wouldn’t tell him what the aliens did with people when they got taken away. There had been a lot of arguing and shouting in low voices, trying to keep him from overhearing.
But now, they were waking him up.
Virgil let himself be coaxed to his feet, following Miss Susan over to the corner where everyone stood in a huddle, the tallest of them on the outside.
“Okay, sweetie. I need you to listen to me very closely, alright?” she told him, turning him to face the corner where they usually kept extra clothes in a pile. “You’re going to have to be very brave for me, okay?”
The clothes had been moved. There was a hole in the wall, where the netting had been peeled back. The edges of it were rough and curved like they’d been made with fingernails, like it had been painstakingly carved through one scratch at a time.
It was a small hole, barely the size of a vent, or a cat flap. Virgil could probably fit through it, but he was the only one.
“No,” Virgil shook his head immediately. “I don’t want to! I’m scared.”
Miss Susan squatted to be level with him, holding his hand in hers. “I know, honey. But it’s important, okay? We’re going to get out and find you, but you have to go first and stay safe until we do. I’ll send our little glowbug with you, and it’ll light the way in the dark.”
“What about your dark?” Virgil asked, rubbing harshly at his stinging eyes.
Miss Susan softened, pulled his hand away and smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone. “Oh, baby. I’ve seen that glowbug a hundred times, here with you. I’ll be okay without it for a little while.”
Virgil turned to look at the hole again, imagining a little firefly crawling through with him so he wouldn’t be alone.
“Do you promise?” he asked, and Miss Susan pulled him into a hug so tight, it felt like it squished all the air from him.
“I promise,” she said, and her hands shook a little but her voice was steady. Virgil smushed his face against her shoulder for the last time.
“Okay. I’ll— I’ll go.”
The barrier of bodies around them seemed to relax, just slightly, though it still took Miss Susan a few moments longer to release him.
They told him everything he needed to know, everyone chiming in. That he had to run, as fast and as far as he could, and be sneaky and quiet when he was too tired to run. That he should find hiding places and hole up in them, wait until nobody was around to keep running.
That he should always hide from aliens, even if they weren't wearing the suits. That he should never let them see him, because they hated humans. That if they did grab him, he could do whatever he needed to do to get away.
“Just like stranger danger, right, buddy? You can bite, kick, scream, whatever you need to do.”
Virgil nodded, trying to push down the sick, stressed feeling in his gut, and when there was finally no advice left to give, he turned to the gash in the wall.
Wiggling through it was hard, because there were still sharp, poky bits that scratched at his skin and the inside of the wall was dark and stifling, but every time he wanted to stop, he could hear the encouragement of everyone else, who was still stuck inside.
There was a little bug with him, he reminded himself. If he closed his eyes and froze up, he wouldn’t ever be able to see it glow.
Finally, he squirmed free of the last few inches, dropping onto the floor of a very small dark room with shelves in it, like a linen closet. He turned back to face the hole, calling out, and Miss Susan reached an arm through.
He grabbed for her hand and pressed his face to it, clung to her for a long moment, his breaths stuttering as she cradled him the best she could.
There was a muffled clang, and Miss Susan ran her wavering thumb over his cheekbone one more time before pulling away.
“Run, Virgil. Now. Run!”
So he did.
He ran and hid, just like they told him, but he picked the wrong place to hide because it was part of another ship, and it took him far away. He kept running, pulled himself into tiny little nooks on spaceship after spaceship, snuck food wherever he could get it and only ever whispered to his invisible firefly.
Eventually, he left a ship and there were no other ships around to board, only the wide landscape of a different planet, full of weird trees and weird animals and a weird town that he fled from. No more ships came, and that was fine because he didn’t want to run anymore. He wanted to stay and wait for them to find him.
He laid on his back and faced the sky, searching for a sign that they were coming. He was hungry and tired and lonely.
The stars above looked just like fireflies, hundreds of them. Enough for all of them to watch together. Except there wasn’t a ‘them’. It was only him.
Virgil felt his face growing hot, his throat closing up at the thought. It was too frightening to be alone.
No, he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t. He had their firefly with him, somewhere next to him in the grass.
“Just because I can’t see them, doesn’t mean they’re not there,” Virgil said to himself sternly, and rolled back to his feet.
He would find something to eat, somewhere to sleep, and he would wait. They would find him. They would find him. They would…
When Logan finally eased the mental connection closed and pulled himself free, he found there was a low, buzzing keen building in the back of his throat. The sort of sound he hadn’t made since he himself was a child.
Virgil still lay there unconscious, but his cheeks were shiny and damp with tears. Logan reached out, ignoring the heat radiating from the pupa’s skin, and gently smoothed a narrow finger over his cheek, wiping the wetness away as best he could.
It didn’t do much, but the crinkle in Virgil’s brow seemed to ease just slightly at the sensation.
Roman paced by again, pausing at the sight. “Specs? Is the kid alright? …Are you alright?”
Logan wondered what Roman would think about the fact that Humans and Crav’n had more in common culturally than he would have ever guessed. That an entire group of Humans had given up their only boon for the slim chance of getting the only child present to safety.
No time to waste, now. That conversation would have to wait until they’d launched.
“Let Patton know we’re leaving, and meet me in the navigation area,” he instructed, already turning to leave. “I’m going to clear our landing area for departure.”
“What— I thought we agreed it was a bad idea to actually leave?” Roman asked, glancing between Logan and Virgil with visible worry.
“It’s a worse idea to sit here and wait,” he replied firmly, and then he was down the hall and out the hanger door, ignoring the shiver of secondhand trepidation that Virgil’s mind had left in his.
He circled the ship, placing the warding discs that would keep their launch area organism-free down one by one, and then paused at the sight of a familiar creature standing by the main entrance hatch.
It was a Humlilt, one with a distinct little white splotch on its head. Logan was fairly certain that it was the one who had stood between them and Virgil during their second meeting, the most loyal of the bunch, only proved further by the way it had been waiting outside the ship since Virgil had been taken aboard.
Logan was also fairly certain that Virgil had named this one Susan, after his neighbor. The Human who’d taken care of him, in those memories.
“You’ve taken care of him, too, haven’t you?” he asked, still far too affected by the painful sympathy that had washed over him post-Vidi.
The Humlilt stamped a hoof and trumpeted at him warningly as he neared, still obviously holding a grudge at them for stealing Virgil away.
Logan attempted to rationalize himself out of the decision he was about to make, and utterly failed.
It took some digging and reaching out to a few of Logan’s less savory contacts, but the ship was on its way to a waypoint station that was rumored to have a Human expert in residence. It could have been a trap, a lie meant to lure interested parties into an attack, but they were going to have to risk it.
The three of them had all agreed to the plan. They wouldn’t be able to live with themselves otherwise.
Now that they were in transit, Logan sat down with his two closest friends, and began to explain just what he’d learned about their kid.
A few rooms down in the medical bay, a half-conscious Human reached out a feverish hand and found a small, fluffy presence curled up at his side.
The Humlilt crooned a few notes, sounding just like the aimless lullabies its namesake used to hum.
For the first time since boarding the ship, Virgil breathed a little easier.
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splattered-ink · 11 days
Text
A Reminder;
remember to be kind.
remember to be nice.
remember to hold your tongue.
remember to hold your anger.
remember they don't deserve it.
remember they do.
remember you don't deserve it.
remember you do.
remember to apologize.
remember to eat.
remember to sleep.
remember to wake up.
remember to cry.
remember to laugh.
remember to live.
remember to die.
remember to love.
remember to hate.
remember to be human.
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sinister-things · 1 year
Note
Hi!! Could I request a fic or headcanon for a first date with Mikey?? Thank you in advance 🧡
Guide:
Y/N = Your Name
L/N = Last Name
F/C = Favorite Color
Headcanons at the end!
Reblogs > Likes!
"Can You Pass This To Y/N?"
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Whoever invented math had to be the cruelest person alive.
Mikey sat at his desk, doodling in his notebook and pretending to take notes while the teacher explained the problem on the board.
Okay, that was a lie.
He was ogling one of the girls sitting in the front: Y/N L/N.
In Mikey's opinion, Y/N was the prettiest girl in the school, and the only reason he looked forward to math class was knowing he could see her.
The most interaction he ever had with her was waving to her in the hallway, and other then that, he found himself just a little too shy to ask her out.
But at home, it was a completely different story. According to Donnie, Mikey spoke of Y/N so much it was "making his ears bleed!"
But today, right now, was the day Mikey was going to do it. He was going to ask Y/N on a date.
He took a F/C glitter pen out of his pencil case and took a notecard out of his bag and quickly jotted something down. All he had to do now was wait...
After a few minutes, the teacher had assigned some questions for the students to complete. This was Mikey's chance!
One problem: while Y/N was sat all the way in the front of the room, Mikey was sat all the in the back. He couldn't just get up and give it to her! That would be embarrassing.
So, he tapped the shoulder of the guy sitting in front of him. Sam, one of Mikey's friends, turned around, "What is it, Mike?" He whispered.
"Can you pass this to Y/N?" Mikey whispered, diverting his eyes to the girl in the front.
Sam, being the all-around good guy he is, smiled and nodded, and repeated Mikey's action.
Mikey tried to focus on the problems in his textbook, but the only thing on his mind was that note! What if she didn't get it? Or worse, what if she said no?!
Finally, the fateful moment arrived. Madison, the captain of the cheer team, tapped Y/N on the shoulder.
Mikey held his breath as Madison nonchalantly handed Y/N the note which was held between her index and middle finger.
Y/N smiles and mouth's a "thank you" to Madison, and turns back in her seat, most likely to read the note.
"Mikey, Mikey!"
"Hello, Mikey? Anyone home?"
The youngest turtle was summoned back to reality by his brother, Leo, waving his hand in Mikey's face.
"C'mon, we gotta go! The bell rang and Raph's gonna flip if we aren't outside!" Was all Leo said before running out of the room.
"Leo, wait– hold on!" Mikey shouted, grabbing his things and chasing after him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You were absorbed in one of the math problems when you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder.
You looked behind you and saw your best friend, Madison. Between her pointer and middle finger was a folded up notecard. She smiled and gestured for you to take it.
You did so with a smile, mouthing a quick thank you, as not to disturb the peace of the quiet classroom. Checking your surroundings, you unfolded the note. It read:
Y/N, you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. Will you go out with me? From: Mikey
□ Yes
□ No
You blushed. You weren't exactly the most popular, people only knowing your name because you're friends with Madison. But, for lack of a better word, you had always had the biggest crush on Mikey!
He was the nicest, kindest, and biggest sweetheart you had ever seen, and was insanely popular(more or less because of his brothers). But on the bottom corner, he left his number! He even wrote the note in F/C!
You were so excited, you had completely forgotten that the bell rang. You didn't even notice Madison reading the note over your shoulder.
"Somebody has a crush~" she teased, your face only growing redder.
"Let's– Let's just go!" You stuttered, grabbing your bag.
Madison stopped you dead in your tracks, stepping in front of you. "Sorry bestie, but I got cheer today and I promised Sam that I'd get ice cream with him!"
You sighed. Sam was Madison's boyfriend. You'd met him a few times and he was a really nice guy who absolutely adored your friend. So, you were happy for her. Even if it meant having to walk home by yourself.
You stepped out the main entrance, preparing to go home and launch yourself into bed.
From the corner of your eye, you saw Mikey and his brother's sitting on a bench, most likely waiting for someone.
"Hey, Mikey!" You waved to him from a distance. His sparkling eyes lit up and he waved back with a smile.
You walked over to him, trying to appear as calm as humanly possible. "C'mon Y/N, don't mess this up!" You thought, attempting to give yourself a pep talk.
"Hey, Y/N!" Mikey beamed, cheeks warm from his blushing. "Need something?" He asked, surprised that he spoke with his whole chest.
You picked at the skin on your hand, a bright smile on your face. "I got your note." You revealed.
Leo smirked, thoroughly enjoying the show he was watching. Mikey's face lit up just a bit more. "You did?!"
You nodded. "And I've been wanting to ask you the same thing." You admitted.
You found yourself locked in a tight embrace, Mikey muttering "thank you!" And "Oh mi gosh!" like a broken record.
Despite the puzzled stares and envious whispers, you smiled bigger than you ever did in your life. By the time you were home, you were texting Madison about how much your face hurt. But if anything, it was totally worth it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
• Your first date is a carnival. No questions asked
• This is Mikey's first date and he want's to make sure you both have fun!
• He's spending his entire allowance trying to win prizes for you(it's funnier to imagine you winning on the first try)
• OH LORD IF YOU WIN HIM SOMETHING–
• He'll love you forever and whatevers after that
• He's already planning your wedding(in his head)
• He L O V E S you
• You're the prettiest, kindest girl Mikey's ever seen!
• And he's gonna make sure you know that
• Doesn't matter what you look like, you're a princess to him!
• Once he returns to the lair, he is rubbing your guy's date in his brother's faces
• Needless to say, you both knew you wanted to see each other again
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virgil-upinthestars · 3 months
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drawing idea!! what would your characters order for a boba date?
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(ignore the grumpy lil guy in the corner. he's getting his order soon)
thank you @mothclip @mayawakening and @space-girl-and-droids-art for the encouragement!! <3
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romantichore · 2 years
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it's wip wednesday, my dudes
well this surely is exciting! I've been tagged by @thequeenofthewinterfthewinter to share my latest wip, and while it's technically cheating because it's not exactly the latest, I haven't written proper in a bit - mostly notes, so this is the latest actually readable thing. I'm not going to tag anyone this time around, but hey 👀 if you have a wip 👀 post and tag me in it 👀
ok so, the wip: it's part of a (hopefully) future fic that follows my dragonborn, Murien, as she leaves her old life in Cyrodiil and tries to make something out of it in Skyrim. she joins the Companions looking for combat lessons, and becomes fast friends with a certain ice-brained twin.
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"So, you have family here?" He asked, pushing the mug of mead towards her, her third or fourth tonight. Something told him this should be the last one, that she would not handle another one well - that something being Vilkas, who eyed him from across the room like he was leading a lamb to slaughter. Perhaps he was.
On the other side of the table, Murien caught the tankard with both hands, stubby little things that looked funny wrapped around the cup as she wasted no time bringing it up to her lips. He had to give it to her, corners of his mouth pushing up in amusement, she may be a lightweight, but she surely did not think herself to be.
A couple of seconds later and the tankard laid empty before them, her yellow eyes looking down to where the liquid should be, brows knit together like she had no idea who it had been who had drunk her mead.
"What brought you to Skyrim?" Farkas tried a second time, now catching her attention for once, and her response was half a chortle, half silly wave of a hand.
"Death," she had turned serious for a second, hand slamming down against the wooden table hard enough to make it wobble, the entire room falling silent as her voice echoed.
A tense few moments, Vilkas looked worried, Aela like she would dismantle him into a thousand pieces if he made the girl cry. She held his gaze for what felt like far too long though he could not tell what it was that he saw in her eyes; and then she laughed, laughed like she had just heard the funniest joke told by the most amusing jester, head thrown back as she all but bellowed.
A collective sigh of relief, merrymaking overtaking the ambiance once more, but he knew better than to chuckle along. He knew better, he knew her better, had somehow been the one to figure her out first though he still had but a scant few pieces and was not really the brightest out of the bunch. Murien, on the other hand, oh, she was twice as smart as Vilkas, three times as clever.
He knew, the moment her eyes turned into tiny arcs and the corners of her mouth made dimples on her cheeks, that the drink had gotten the better of her and she needed to clear the air before things became too heavy. Before they looked at her different, before he asked the wrong question again, before some whelp boasted about killing and war and made her cheeks turn red and water pool in her pretty eyes. She hid, like she always did, that part he had not figured out yet but hoped that she would let him, one day. She hid though she did not want to, not really, not from him.
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hamiltonells · 19 days
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y’all are sleeping on this man🥱
too fine😝 my man
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