#i think its just mcr used to be my happy place n then i get to see them live and its just an absolute nightmare | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lunarmoves · 1 year

Text

for evermore

summary: you laugh—loud and carefree—and they have never wished so desperately before to be human. if only to love you for the rest of their life.

pairing: DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader

mentions: gender neutral reader, possessive (obsessive) behavior, ruminations of a robot, dark thoughts ahead tbh (human mortality, fragility, death), oblivious reader if u squint, non-sexual intimacy, forehead kisses, mentions of blood and gore, moon is glitch'd, sun too tbh but its more subtle, sun's pov is like. sm lighter and then moon's is right out of an mcr song, unreliable narrator

a/n: this fic is inspired by @bamsara's iconic solar lunacy. sun&moon in this are very much deeply, irrevocably in love with u, but! when taken from the reader's pov, u can interpret that as you like! hope yall enjoy my silly little 4 am thoughts LMAO hope they make sense

word count: 2k

ao3 link

One of the kids has a bit of a crush on you.

It’s cute, really. Sun watches the way little Riley holds out a drawing to you—two stick figures holding hands together in a field of flowers colored lavender and cerulean. It’s clear that it’s supposed to be you and Riley, both of you happy as can be. You smile as you take the drawing, admiring the care Riley put into every stroke of their crayons.

“It’s us!” Riley says proudly, tiny fingers gripping onto your arm that holds the paper. Bright eyes look up eagerly at you for your reaction. “Do you like it?”

“I love it!” you reply with all the care and adoration you can muster into your voice. Your free hand reaches over to smooth down the hair on Riley’s head. “Oh, you’re so talented! Look how cute we are!”

Riley beams, bright and happy, and Sun thinks it’s so wonderful that you’re able to get along well with the kids. He twirls a crayon around in his hand, idly spinning it across metal joints and silicon, then returns to doodling across the paper in front of him. Long limbs have pretzeled their way into sitting at one of the kid’s tables not too far from your own.

“When I grow up,” Riley continues in a steadfast voice, “I’m gonna marry you. And we’ll get a biiiiig house with lotsa puppies! And kitties!”

“Lotsa puppies and kitties, huh?” you ask as you set the drawing down on the table and pull Riley closer so you can set them on your lap. You pinch at their chubby little cheek. “You ready for that much responsibility, squirt?”

Riley nods. Sun rests his chin on his palm, propped up on one of his legs. The hand holding his crayon continues to doodle. “Yeah! We’re gonna feed ‘em, and we’re gonna walk ‘em, and dress ‘em up!”

You hum out a response, but by then Sun is lost in his thoughts. It’s cute, he tells himself again, gaze not really seeing what’s before him as he glances at you and Riley. Humans and their little dreams. Their bonds and their emotions. The freedom they hold within their grasps. Silly, silly humans. Silly, silly, silly.

Sun looks down at his drawing. You and him, standing in front of a little house. Free as can be to live under a bright blue sky with puffy, cotton-candy clouds. He wonders what that is like. To live with someone so closely. Being there when they wake up and when they fall asleep. Seeing them at their highs and their lows. He wonders if that is even feasible, for someone like him. The freedom he dreams about rests just beyond the tips of his artificial fingers. He tilts his head to the side and releases the tight grip he has on his crayon.

Silly robot, he thinks to himself.

Then, he folds up the drawing and stuffs it into his pocket.

The pizzaplex, above all else, is a cold place.

Sun knows its lights are too bright and its colors too jarring at times. It’s something he has grown used to—the only thing he has ever known, really. He is not exposed to much, with how limited his boundaries are and how restrictive the access he has to the internet is. You give him new things to ponder about. You blow away the coldness like it’s nothing. And he thinks the warmth you bring along with you is something he has perhaps always craved, deep inside. Him, modeled after the sun. Ironic, he thinks.

You play around with the children as he tends to a checkout by the door. It’s quick work, it usually is, and he gives his regular old smile to the parents who pick up their kids and press kisses to their scrunched up little faces in greeting.

What a concept—kissing, that is. An action done by humans to express some of their pesky little emotions. He waves away the parents and closes the door, white gaze falling on you as you laugh while you chase a few kids around. The daycare was what introduced him to all the idiosyncrasies humans have—it is the only form of contact he has with people. And it is the only way he really learns about certain things he wouldn’t have known about otherwise.

He thinks back to Riley. He thinks about the rings he sees on humans’ fingers and the terms of endearment they call each other. He watches you spin around and lunge after another giggling kid who squeals and barely evades your grasp. You laugh—loud and carefree—then make eye contact with him for a split second. And Sun feels something strange in his chassis. Something that lights his insides on fire and makes his wires buzz in fervor. Maybe this is the warmth he’s meant to hold—that he is meant to be. His rays do a little spin.

Then Sun does what he does best. He swoops in, snatching you up from the ground and yelling out something-or-other about kidnapping you for his very evil, very nefarious plans. All in a day’s work, at the daycare. You smile up at him—so small, so tiny in his hold—and he thinks he wouldn’t mind seeing it again and again and again.

Moon thinks about the stars often.

He wonders what they look like, if they match the designs that dot his hat and pants. He thinks about you, standing under the night sky. Do you like the stars you see? Do you come to the daycare and compare the artificial ones plastered to the ceiling to the ones you experience every night? Moon doesn’t know if it is enough—if it will ever be enough.

He glides around the daycare on his cable, keeping a watchful eye on the slumbering kids below. You had been subjected to Riley’s grabby hands as they refused to go down without you by their side. So now you lay next to them, idly stroking their hair as they suckle on their thumb and snooze close to your chest.

Trapped now, he’d told you when he saw Riley latched onto your leg earlier. Bedtime for you. And you simply gave him a defeated smile and caved to the whims of the child.

Moon ponders about what that must be like—laying so close to another. Would you be as comfortable with him—with his body made of unyielding metal? Would you let him soothe you to sleep with the music box in his chest chiming out a gentle song that would waft through the air? Or maybe you would prefer another human. Hmm, another.

He remembers the kiss you had pressed to Riley’s forehead at their insistence and his fingers reach up to rub thoughtfully at his own. Pesky little emotions. His red gaze always finds itself trailing back to you, lingering on your form through the rest of naptime. And when the lights flick back on, he thinks that his time with you is always too short for him to bear.

It’s the middle of the night, long after you’ve gone home, and Moon stands in front of an arcade machine that’s turned off. He stares at his reflection in the dark screen, fuzzy red eyes lighting the space up in a hellish glow. One of his hands passes across his mouth smoothly—the sharp teeth that make up his grin. And he thinks back to the parents kissing their children on the cheeks. He thinks about all the ‘sweetheart’s, and the ‘baby’s, and the ‘love’s. He thinks about you.

Moon wonders what it would be like to be human.

To just—feel everything, all the time. To hear his heart pounding in his chest. He doesn’t have a heart—never will—but he wonders what it would be like to have one. He’d give you his heart without batting an eye, he thinks. Would you do the same for him?

He ruminates on what it would be like to hold your hand. To feel the plushness of your skin against the firmness of his metal. To look and see the difference between the two. Unnatural, he frowns. Disconnected. Two puzzle pieces that don’t fit together—not in the way he would like. He doesn’t belong to you and the thought strikes him hard enough to frazzle his wires. He imagines you with someone better suited that can live with you, grow old with you. Someone that is not him—not like him, broken and robotic as he is.

And Moon wonders if this is what it feels like to die. To have the wires ripped from his body and turned into dust. Something nasty festers itself in his hardware, sears through him like a vicious piece of malware.

He stares down at his hands, fingers slim and painted blue. And he sees them doused in ruby red. He wonders what it is like to have it running through tiny, tiny veins. So fragile. He wonders what it is like to hold your skin between his fingers and feel it rip into shreds. His grin tightens and he shakes his head minutely. He looks back up at his reflection and a gleam of purple flashes across his pupils before he seizes it and locks it away.

Eclipse stands in the middle of an empty daycare and watches as you enter through the large, castle doors.

It’s you, you’re here. They missed you so much, you were gone for so long you were gone for so, so long. But you’re here, and you’re safe, and you’re you.

You freeze when you notice them—looking at you with a too wide smile and too sharp teeth. Their head tilts at you and before they can even process their actions, they’ve already taken several long strides up to your form. Because you’re here, with them, so close they can touch you.

You’re looking up at them with an expression they can’t quite decipher. But they know it must be adoration! It has to be, it must be, what else would it be? And they lean down and reach out two of their hands to grasp at your smaller shoulders. They can feel your heart beating through their fingers.

“I love you!” Eclipse chimes out, hunkered down over your smaller figure. Casting you in their deep, deep shadow. And then they curl down to press the gleaming metal of their grin against your forehead. Again and again and again. I love you I love you I love you so much it hurts what are you doing to us don’t you know this hurts? You smile (you’re smiling, right? You have to be!) at them—confused, sincere maybe—your fingers balled into fists. And Eclipse thinks that if they were to dig through their software, through lines and lines of code, they’d find a little version of you there. Infecting them—constantly there with your kindness and your adoration. Their grin twitches, their eyes upturn. “Marry me!”

You say nothing, only look up at them, but that’s okay! That’s okay, it’s okay it’s okay, right? They are bubbling and boiling alive with the fire that runs through their wires. And they have never wished so desperately before to be human. So they can be with you—outside, under the stars, under the sun the real sun—and hold you, and treasure you until the end of time until you both die.

They think about you and them, standing in front of a little house in a field of lavender and cerulean flowers. They think about waking up with you and going to sleep with you. They think about the softness of your skin and the brightness of your smile. The blood in your veins that can so easily spill over their fingers.

And they know they are not human. They know you will grow old and you will inevitably move on—leaving them for a place they cannot reach.

But still, they think, they will love you until the end of your life. And until the end of theirs.

#i cant draw and solar lunacy made me insane so this happened #solar lunacy #dca x reader #fnaf moon x reader #fnaf sun x reader #moon x reader #fnaf sb #running on fumes rn #i can smell colors bro #sun x reader #the daycare attendant #daycare attendant x reader #dca #dca fanfic #fnaf eclipse x reader #fnaf eclipse #eclipse x reader #btw i can take this down if bam wants sdksjfhf no harm no foul

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suguruslut · 1 year

Text

Going to a concert

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴

<<< 𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙏𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪🐉| 𝙏𝙤𝙧𝙖🐅| 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙖🐕 >>>

Gwen’s note: i saw mcr and angele in concert this year...the only thing missing was a househusband to hold my snacks...

🐉𝒯𝒶𝓉𝓈𝓊🍳

--as we know, Tatsu is really into rap music, so when you win tickets to see Agust D in concert, Tatsu flips his shit. dude won’t stop talking about it for all the months leading up to the concert. he actually makes Goda cry one time out of jealousy

--once the night arrives, Tatsu is over prepared, waiting outside the arena a good four hours before the show starts; nobody dared cut in front of you guys, and he was one of the first in line for merch, grinning proudly at your matching t-shirts

--he somehow got all his snacks and water bottles past security?? don’t ask how, he’ll never tell

--once you get in, Tatsu’s leading the way through the crowd with a gentle grip on your hand, making you drink water and sit at least for a few minutes since you’ll be standing and jumping the entire concert. the place is packed, but he assures you there’s no hitmen nearby

--definitely tears up when Agust D first comes out, then REALLY gets into it all while staying within concert etiquette. he sings all the lyrics, which he knows by heart, and it makes you smile to see him so happy and inspired

--dedicates each song to you, even though he didn’t write them; the only time this makes you cry is when he says it before AMYGDALA, his favorite off Agust D’s new album. Tatsu says it reminds him of how bad things were before meeting you, but now that you’re in it together, life and its choices seem a lot less difficult

-- immediately following the show and still riding the concert high... “I bet I can make my own mixtape! I found some great ideas on Pinterest...whattya think of that, Y/N?!”

🐅𝒯𝑜𝓇𝒶𝒿𝒾𝓇𝑜🍰

--Tora strikes me as a heavy metal kind of guy, always head banging and screaming his heart out whilst driving his kawaii crepe truck. when you surprise him with tickets to Beast in Black, he almost crushes your back with how tightly he hugs you

--listens to all their albums the week leading up to the concert, nonstop repeat so he knows all the words to every single song. luckily you love him, so you find it endearing to listen to him scream as loud as he can for most of the day. and pretend he knows how to play electric guitar

--doesn’t want to arrive early bcz that’s “uncool,” so you guys show up just as the concert is starting, Tora shoving his way through the crowd with you using him as a shield

-- “Outta the way, scrubs! A true fan is coming through!”

--literally pushes his way right up to the stage. you won’t be able to hear tomorrow, but how can you care about that when you see Tora’s face light up upon the band entering?

--he really did learn all the lyrics, screaming and singing with a grin on his face as he keeps one arm around you at all times, pumping his other fist in time with the music; you can’t believe how carefree Tora is acting, thinking you should bring him to heavy metal concerts more often

--One Night In Tokyo is his absolute favorite song, but he won’t admit to shedding tears after hearing it live. well, maybe just to you, because you got it on video for blackmail material

--for sure had you take a million pictures of him at the concert so he can brag to his friends (Tatsu) and frame some for your apartment

🐕ℳ𝒶𝓈𝒶🥡

--I can see Masa being very into trendy music, especially Jpop and Kpop. when he hears Band Maid is in town, he blows his last paycheck on two tickets; imagine his shock when you say you’ve never heard any of their songs

--by the time the concert comes around, let’s just say you now know every single song from each album, thanks to Masa overloading you with fandom info. you know each member, their life history, favorite foods, iconic looks, etc. etc. your husband is a major BM nerd, okay?

-- “I can’t believe you’ve never listened to them before! Here’s their first album, which I think was the third best out of all their albums, and here’s a list of the biggest venues they’ve played at, and...”

--should’ve put that boy on a leash...Masa gets lost at the venue at least five different times, always in search of the nearest bathroom and ending up in creepy hallways and surrounded by strangers

--they literally call your name over the speakers to come get him, lmao. once you clip him to your belt the concert starts, and the second the girls step on stage, Masa bursts into tears and squeals, though you’re not sure if it’s because he’s excited for the music or bcz they’re all wearing maid outfits...

--I think Masa would have a great singing voice, so it’s actually pleasant to hear him sing along with the band. you guys had pretty good seats, and Masa was taking endless pics and videos of both Band Maid and you two. before the concert was even over he set his wallpaper as one of your cheerful selfies, concert lights streaming over your faces

--dumbass didn’t even realize he bought backstage passes, and his favorite member, Misa (bcz her name is similar to his), actually signs his t-shirt for him, prompting him to pass out in your arms

--he’s just as elated when he wakes up as he was when he passed out, and will probably never stop talking about the time you two went to a Band Maid concert together

🐉 🐅 🐕

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eefonline · 5 months

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okay EEF. hi! you’re gonna get compliments now

just wanted to talk abt your music taste. ur emo music tastes are obviously awesome and thanks for the recs a while back! (you can give me more if you want just sayin) and your music taste is superb. mcr? TOP TIER, no duh. even tho i don’t listen to them often, they’re still awesome and probably one of my fave bands (not just music wise, how well known n stuff)

ok but remember when me you n oliver were talking abt byler and laufey and when you brought up that promise was so mike coded? yea you guys are awesome i think that time will be in my mind forever (spinning it around in the microwave of which i call my brain)

ok i know you had a scott pilgrim hyperfixation before the anime came out and i never really understood why (didn’t see the movie or read the comics i’ll read the comics dw) but oh my god. now ik why you like it so much it’s so. near and dear to my heart just. THE CHARACTERS AND THE PLOT my god. magnificent

ok but you’re super duper kind and have talked to me a lot and are super funny. cracks me up like an egg fr. you’re an extrovert (ik ur personality type started with an E) and super easy to talk to (/pos btw) and it’s nice to talk to you because of that. we could be talking about byler and then start talking about something completely unrelated.

anyways happy new years, see you in 2024!

DERRICK I MIGHT CRY WHAT THE FUUUUUUCCCCCKKK. IM SORRY 4 SUCH A L8 REPLY BTW I WAS HOSTING A NYE PARTY W MY IRLS

ANYWAYS IDEK WHERE 2 START. I SHOULD PROBABLY SOTP USING CAPS BUT FUCK THAT. OK SO. FIRST OF ALL, HAPPY NEW YEARS I HOPE UR 2024 IS SO CRAZY GOOD ‼️‼️‼️

NEXT, I WANT 2 SAY THAT U HAVE BEEN SUCH A GOOD MUTUAL AND FRIEND UR SO FUNNY AND SILLY AND IT’S FUCKING AWESOME UR COMPLIMENTS R HITTING SO HARS BC WAAAKWKSM

ok i think im good now n can stop using caps. ur so real!!!!! i fucking LOVE spvtw spto n all of its related content ITS SO GOOD 😭😭 I AM SO HAPPY THE ANIME HAS INTRODUCED MORE PPL TO IT IT’S A BREATH OF FRESH AIR OR WTEVER THAT 1 PHRASE IS

ACTUALLY FOING ALL OVER THE PLACE THIS IS NOT IN ORDER I AM SOOOO SORRY. NEXT, i also remember that!!!!!! it was so fun 2 talk about!!! i think i have fun talking 2 u in general ngl :]]]

THANKKKK UUUUU 4 THE COMPLIMENTS ON MY MUSIC TASTE I LUV MUSIC SM SO ITS SO GOOD TO HEAR SOMEONE ACTUALLY ENJOY THE RECS I GIVE THEM

also just realized that “done with cpas” thing was a lie SORRY IT JUST FEELS RIGHT!!!! n e ways tysm again!!!! i thought abt saying more but noen of it would make sense asi am so tired 💔 happy new years, finn :]]]]]

#eef answers!

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anystalker707 · 3 years

Text

I'm here, love

Pairing: Ray x [fem] Reader Word count: 1 916 Genre: Comfort / Fluff Summary: Reader isn't handling it well when she goes with MCR for a tour for the first time, but Ray is always there for her. TW: Anxiety attack

Requested by anon

Tour has been going on for some time already, almost a month, but it actually feels like forever. All the agitation can be really immersive, turning the attempts of keeping track of time difficult, even more since we mostly follow a nighttime schedule due to the concerts. We’re almost always heading to a bar or club after the concerts, so it’s basically falling asleep at two in the morning to wake up at noon or something in the best days. Certainly not the best thing.

Today is thankfully one of the break days in which the guys don’t have any concert and we arrived to the next city earlier than usual, what means we’re lazing around for most of the time.

“…because he’s not here, duh!” Ray’s voice becomes audible as he leaves the bus, grinning as looking back at it and shaking his head after Mikey says something, though I’m not able to understand any of it. Only a small smile remains on his face whilst he approaches me, taking a seat on the ground with me. “Hello, love,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

“Hi.” I smile, pecking his lips, and put my phone down.

“What are you doing?” He raises an eyebrow, looking around for a moment like if trying to find what kept my attention until now.

“Nothing, really,” I say softly, leaning my head against his shoulder. “Do you want to go do something? I wanted to, but didn’t want to ask while you were busy with the others.” The thought of interrupting the four’s talk and probably attracting all that attention wasn’t exactly appealing, I’m secretly thankful he finally left the bus.

“Aw, you didn’t have to wait for all this time.” Ray’s eyebrows furrow lightly as he pecks my cheek. “And we could go look for a café or a restaurant, how does that sound? It’s almost lunchtime, after all.”

“Sounds good!” I smile, liking the opportunity of spending some time alone with Ray.

He seems just as happy as standing up and offering me a hand, which I take to help myself standing up. “So, how are you feeling? With the whole tour thing, I mean.” Ray wraps an arm around me when we start walking down the parking lot, concern laying under his apparently normal expression.

I hum, looking away for a moment. “Oh, yeah, I’m alright. I’ll let you know if I need anything, thank you.” I press a kiss to Ray’s cheek, trying to demonstrate my appreciation despite the subject making me tense up a bit.

Ray is more than aware of my problems with anxiety, already having helped me through its ups and downs, and both of us already predicted how the whole tour thing would interfere on it, mainly because it’s my first time tagging alone during one. We already had a hard time before the tour itself – I got too panicked at the whole thing since I barely knew how it would work –, hence he’s been worried and making sure of always checking on me.

Truth is that I’m not as alright as I’ve claimed to be. The tour has already reached my nerves and I can already feel this familiar buzzing under my skin, threatening to intensify, making me lose it yet again. It, however, won’t happen; I’ll not let that happen. Ray won’t even know.

We’re soon walking into a restaurant, the smell of food filling the ambient and, somehow, it feels good and bad at the same time. Not a surprise, since the anxiety usually has me either eating compulsively or not eating at all, so I think my body decided it’ll be better if I stay inside that bus for hours with an empty stomach, right?

We take a seat and place our orders – I balance my choice between something that my body won’t reject and Ray will not complain about, what seems to work.

“Y’know,” Ray breaks the silence between us, “what have you been thinking about watching us live?” He glances at me, expectant. His question doesn’t fail in making me smile since he’s probably referencing how I used to keep bugging him with questions about the tour concerts.

“Awesome, of course!” I grin, letting my eyes fall to my plate as I drag the food around for a bit. “It’s just amazing, I love it, seeing you playing is just…” I shrug, feeling my cheeks heat up whilst Ray breathes a chuckle, but I’m unable to look at him just yet. When I do glance at Ray, he’s grinning. “You know how much I like it.”

“I just wanted to check,” he says smugly – I snort, shaking my head playfully.

“Already regretting bringing me with you, tho?” I raise an eyebrow, finishing to eat and leaning back on the chair.

“Never!” Ray says indignantly, shooting me a look. “I’d have taken you with me before if I knew you wanted it that bad!” He pauses to take a sip of his drink. “Like, I missed you an awful lot and the tours tend to be fun. Though there are a few problems, but…”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” I press my lips together and nod as he does the same.

We sit in silence for a moment, only until Ray finishes eating and soon calls the waitress. She grins as coming closer, a block of notes in her hand and a pencil on the other. “Well, you two have ordered for…” she trails off, mumbling under her breath as scribbling a few things down on her paper before grinning and handing Ray the bill; he nods, reaching for his wallet. Meanwhile, the woman looks at me, wide eyes looking at me from up to down with that fake excitement. Okay. What’s wrong? Maybe she’d judging my clothes? Or that I’m with Ray?

I try to ignore the woman, turning to Ray. “Hey, I was thinking we could—”

“Keep the change,” Ray tells the woman as handing her the money, ignoring me. Fuck. “And do you know any convenience store or café nearby?”

The two engage into a conversation and maybe it’s the instability and stress due to the whole tour-anxiety thing or whatever, but I can feel my heart heavy due to it. My plan is to continue there, of course, leave with Ray so we can spend mor time alone with each other, a plan that I give up on as soon as feeling a sting in my chest. I just stand up and leave.

Why did Ray ignore me? What did I do wrong? He got tired or annoyed, perhaps. …Or, yet, I’m just overreacting. Hell, I know Ray wouldn’t do that to be in purpose because he is usually so loving.

A sigh escapes my lips as I glance back and I really want to come back – I would, if I wasn’t so far from there already. It’s the best to just give him some random excuse later.

Holy fuck, but, honestly, everything only went downhill from the moment I decided to tag along.

First of all, I panicked at the sole fact I was going to come with them to the tour then got extremely awkward during a whole week and half, barely talking with anyone asides from Ray – what got Mikey annoyed at some point, what I’m sure of even if everyone denies it. And then we went along with all the minor events, like me being the last one to get back to the bus, almost getting lost in the venue and simply being unable to talk to anyone asides from the band and the staff, among other inconveniences.

Everyone must be more than done with me, to be honest. And there’s still a whole other month before we can go home, I don’t think I’ll be able to go through all of this with the mess I am.

I sigh in relief at seeing the bus and am about to walk inside it when Gerard show ups out of seemingly nothing, looking around, but his attention quickly falls on me. “Oh, (y/n)— Hey, were you crying? Something happened?”

The question makes me freeze, just now noticing the tears threatening to slip from my eyes and consequently making me feel like all of my blood instantly drained to my feet. “I-I—” I stutter, unfortunately simply unable to finish the sentence, and end up just running away from there, going to an isolated spot of the parking lot to calm down. I don’t want anyone seeing me having another attack, make them even more annoyed and attract all that attention.

Air just escapes my grasp, seemingly impossible to continue in my lungs for longer than a few seconds whilst the tears simply do not stop, even if I don’t even want to be crying or anything, fuck off.

I take a seat on the grassed area, under a tree, and bring my hands up to my eyes.

Cleaning my mind is just impossible, I just keep thinking about how everyone is going to be shooting me these stupid concerned looks when I’m back to the bus and how I’m only going to continue being another source of stress to them during the rest of the tour. Ray should’ve just left me home as usual and—

“…(y/n), listen to me, (y/n)! I’m here!” Ray’s voice cuts through my thoughts and I can feel his hand around my wrist, the other one on my back. “Hey, baby, it’s okay. C’mon, breath with me,” he says softly before starting to set a breathing pace I can’t help but to stick to.

Hell, when did Ray even get here?

I’m getting better when my breath hitches in my throat at the thought I’m only annoying him and I can’t help but to let out a weak sob his time. Ray only starts to rub my back. Even if I’m crying, I do feel better than I did earlier, now slowly becoming more aware of my surroundings while all that filled my mind moments ago were these awful thoughts along with all the panic and worry.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper shakily, bringing my hands down to bury my face in the crook of his neck, trying to synch my breathing with his.

“You don’t need to be sorry, love,” Ray says softly, thumb running along the back of my neck in a weirdly soothing manner. “Don’t be ashamed of it or anything, this whole thing is really stressing. Even us had problems with it at first, so everyone understands how you must be feeling.” His voice helps me calming down, giving me something to hold onto to keep myself in reality asides from his touches.

“Thank you, then,” I reply, my voice still tight.

“It’s okay. I do it because I love you.” Ray pulls away lightly and smiles at me. His hands cup my cheeks, warm against them, whereas he wipes my tears away with his thumbs. “And I want to see you fine, okay?” He presses his lips against mine in a light kiss I’m thankful for. “Let me know about it the next time you feel like this, please.” A quiet sigh comes from him as he furrows his eyebrows at me, worry obvious there. “Are you feeling better now?” I nod. “Really?” he asks and I nod again, pecking his lips like if to prove it. “Okay…-“ he smiles, relieved, “-…how about a coffee now, hm?”

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pacifymebby · 3 years

Note

I wanted to spice up ur day abit but If any of these are too personal feel free to completely ignore them ❤️

-If u could date a lid which would it be...?

-if you had to had had to seriously kill one which one would it be e.g. which member is most disposable hahaha (id kill vehicle McCann :/)

-best day of ur life?

-What was the best concert you ever went to? N why

-best birthday ever?

-What music did you grow up listening to? Like mums music? dads music? carers music? Mcr Angsty teen choker phase? Jazz phase? Idk

-favourite place in the world?

-worst place?

-fav catb song ever? Mine is rango

-tea? Or coffee? Or piss?

-fav like unreleased catb song? Mines obviously asa

-introvert? Extrovert?

-least fav catb song? Mines conversation srry not srry.

-most expensive thing you’ve ever done?

-where would be the best place to meet a lid?

-most drastic thing you’ve ever done?

-a catb song that youd fuck to?

-fav drink?

-Would you like people writing fanfics abt u if u were famous? Would you read em?

-fav drug?

-fav catb album honey better be balcony

-fav movie? Top five fav movies?

-Future of catb? You think they’ll change their style?

-fav celebrity?

Can’t think of any more I’m just chucking random shit at u haha🥰

Ooooo these are excellent! Thank you

1. Bondy, how could u not?!

2.hahaha I couldn't kill Bob he's too wholesome, I couldn't kill Bondy obviously, Idk that I could kill benji tbh he's just cute. I might kill Van for being prettier than me?

3. Heatwave when I was about 10, me and my friend were climbing the trees across the road, running around in the dirt barefoot. We were smoking candy cigs and making up stories and idk, I haven't been like blissfully happy since I was a little kid.

4.i saw the killers at Brixton academy and it was just, intimate and lovely and it was a warm up gig for a big tour and I was with my best friend and it was just euphoric? Brandon flowers was just full of energy and so smiley and excited to be there it was ace.

5. Best birthday was probably my 19th? It was just a sick sick night at uni, all my friends in the kitchen high and dancing to indie music and yeah loved it so much.

6. Dad's music when I was wee, listening to the beatles every Sunday was like a religious experience. Then I had the classic emo mcr phase, then I had shoegaze which has stuck with me ever since. Also I went through a French crooners stage I guess too when I moved in with me nana because she loves that shit.

7. Cymru am byth! Nah I think the lake district is one of my favourites, I love the peaceful, and like moody scenery. Its dreary and rainy and isolated and I love it, all those dark green and grey stormy shades in the winter. Curled up on a settee listening to a record or watching a video. Spent a lot of time there as a kid and I always dream of running away and starting a new life there for myself.

8. I fucking loathe the south of England and some of the northern towns in Wales. I'll make an exception for Llandudno cause it gave us the lids but seriously. North Wales gets under me skin in a bad way. (cause its full of the English sorry everyone haha)

9. Fave catfish song very tricky, but I think Pacifier or Sidewinder?

10. Tea with a shot of steaming hot piss

11. Mine is also asa!!!

12. Introvert I'm terrified of everyone.

13. Emily? I think Emily? Or maybe mission? Idk I love them a lot soo. Why don't u like conversation am shocked by that!

14. Most expensive thing I've ever done? Go to uni I guess? But if not thst then I spent a lotttttt of money at Leeds festival.

15. Someone else's gig maybe, like at the bar or on the smoking area after a gig or in the crowd st a festival. Or a house party/through mutual friends!!. Or better, I'd like it if one of them just appeared in my room rn, that'd be good.

16. Most drastic thing I've ever done? I ran away from an ex boyfriends house, fully just ducked out into the night after an argument and turned up in a totally different city on my mates doorstep. Was MIA to a lot of my mates for awhile. I look back and think it was drastic but necessary too?

On a less intense note I got up and left mid date once because a girl told me she preferred oasis to blur and pulp.

I'm quite drastic about a lot though I'm stubborn and childish as fuck, I'd chop my nose off to spite me face as they'd say. Throw me dummy out the pram for literally the smallest thing.

17. I know ive fucked to that whole first album so many times tbh, an angsty fuck to something like red or outside would be good too. I would let someone fuck me extremely hard to outside.

18. Vodka?

19.i wouldn't mind it tbh, I'd probably wind up reading them out of nosyness. U know what I would do though, if I was dating someone famous and I found those fanfics which use like the person's irl gf as the evil bitch, I'd read those because I'd find them so fucking funny. And then I'd probably go fuck my man and feel smug haha.

20. Weed, it makes u sleepy and horny and cosy and thats how I'd like to spend my whole life

21.obviously it's the balcony I'm not nuts.

22. Spirited away, mean streets, taxi driver, Leon the professional, Heather's, true romance.

23.they won't change their style I don't think not for a while at least.id be interested to know what their current contract is whether it was only for the 3 or whether it was a 5.i reckon vans very set in his ways with what he wants for the band but I'd love to see some jazzy Johnny bond side projects. Him and Bob would probably do some sick experimental shit I'd love that.

24 Robert de Niro ❤️❤️

Thank u anon for these these were so fun thank u ❤️❤️

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cruelangelstheses · 4 years

Text

louder than the maker’s revolver (and twice as shiny) - chapter 1: look alive, sunshine

fandom: dragon age rating: M characters: isabela/f!hawke, bethany/merrill, anders/fenris/m!hawke words (total): 6.5k words (this chapter): 6.5k additional tags: fabulous killjoys au, post-apocalypse, twin hawkes, slow burn, mutual pining, angst with a happy ending, canon-typical violence description: in which an eight-person gang of rebels living in the desert pisses off the government, firefights are lost and won, homoerotic wound-dressing is commonplace, bonds are forged and broken and reforged, feelings are hard, fighting a powerful and corrupt institution is slightly less hard, and everyone is just trying to survive, to heal, to find their way. (or, “the da2 killjoy au nobody asked for”) a/n: ITS STILL 2019 OUT WEST I MADE IT!!! ok so. [cracks knuckles] this is an AU fic based on the universe created in my chemical romance's album “danger days: the true lives of the fabulous killjoys” (and gerard way's subsequent comics) about rebels in the desert fighting a corrupt government post-apocalypse. the album starts/takes place in the year 2019 which is why i wanted to get this fic out before the year ends. while the general setting and terms are the same, no characters from the killjoy universe will appear and everything else is a more loose interpretation. you do not have to be familiar with my chem or the killjoy universe to read this. (for those who know the story, this fic takes place in the year 2030, so after the original “fab four” have died but before the events of the comics, during a sort of “lull” in the action you could say)

a key feature of the killjoy universe is the usage of “killjoy names,” usually one or two-word phrases that relate to the person, and often the person created the name themself - the original four are party poison, fun ghoul, jet star, and kobra kid. i've given each member of the crew a killjoy name (see below) that the other characters will usually use in dialogue (except for characters who knew each other before they became killjoys and got names), but i will use their real names for the most part in narration so you don't forget who's who

ANYWAY i've been planning this fic for a whole year now and it's gonna be a FUN RIDE !!!! i've left a guide at the end for the killjoy names (not all of them are mentioned in this chapter though). i tried my best to explain what certain terms mean in this chapter but they will all be expanded upon more throughout the fic!! ALSO some of characters might end up aged down a little bit because people in the zones tend not to live very long and someone in their early to mid 40s is considered like, ancient in the comics. bethany and carver are still 19 though, the others might just be adjusted in proportion

thank u for reading, i love ensemble casts and da2 and mcr and rebellion and also being gay. fic title and chapter title come from “look alive, sunshine” (by mcr of course lol)

read it on ao3

—

Bethany has never been one to complain, but she has to admit, her knee hurts like a bitch.

The rest of the Birds take down the remaining Draculoids fairly easily, so she doesn’t feel as bad about having to hide crouched behind a crate on the ground. If there were more of them, or if there was a Scarecrow, she’d probably try to keep fighting despite her injury, but this is just a small, unlucky group of Dracs, leaderless and mindless in their pursuit of one of the biggest gangs in the Zones. Perhaps a Scarecrow would have ordered them not to try to fight a group of eight fairly seasoned Killjoys.

When the guns stop firing and the Dracs lie dead in the desert sand, Isabela’s voice floats over. “You know, Blondie, a smoke bomb would’ve helped.”

Anders sighs. Bethany can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Those things don’t grow on trees, you know. And even if they did, it’s not like we have many trees out here. You think I want to waste them on a group like that? We got rid of them just fine.”

Bethany peers out from behind the crate just in time to see Isabela shrug and gesture to her. “Well, at the very least, it might’ve saved Sunshine from being shot.”

At that, Carver seems to snap to attention. “Bethany’s hurt?”

Now it’s Bethany’s turn to sigh. Gingerly stretching her leg out and trying not to wince, she says, “It’s not that bad, Carver.”

Marian huffs, shoving her red-and-black ray gun back into its holster. “‘Not that bad,’ my ass.” She sounds angry, but there’s an edge of worry to her voice that Bethany knows like the back of her hand. “A few more shots like that and you’d have been dusted for sure.”

“But I wasn’t,” Bethany replies. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Anders rummaging through their supplies for the first aid kit.

“But you could’ve been,” Carver adds, crossing his arms and glaring at Marian as if she had something to do with the injury.

Marian scowls defensively. “What are you looking at me for? I was killing Dracs! Maybe if you weren’t so busy trying to show off at every opportunity, you could protect her better!” She sneers out the word protect.

“Maybe if you actually thought before you acted for once in your life—”

“Hey!”

Garrett’s voice rings out above everything else, so loud and firm that for a split second it feels like the whole world stops. These are the moments when Garrett Hawke is at his most serious and his most powerful: when he’s breaking up an argument between Carver and Marian.

“How about instead of blaming each other for Bethany’s injury,” he says, his hands held up in an appeasing manner, “we set up camp here and rest for the evening?”

Marian and Carver exchange glances. After a pause, it’s Marian that says, “Fine.”

The place in question is an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Zone Four, not so remote that it’s off the map, but remote enough that there aren’t a whole lot of Dracs crawling around (and even fewer now that they’ve taken care of this group). A few empty crates and barrels litter the ground surrounding it, some knocked over or zapped from previous firefights. Other than that, there are no recent signs of life—which means it’s a perfect place for the Birds of Passage to recuperate.

Bethany pushes herself to her feet, using the top of the crate to balance herself. Her knee hurts even more when she tries to stretch it out or place any weight on it, but she’ll be damned if she lets anyone help her.

“Are you alright?”

Well...almost anyone.

She lifts her head up at the sound of Merrill’s lilting voice. The girl’s black hair is plastered to her tattooed and sweat-covered face, not long enough to pull up into a ponytail like Bethany’s, but just long enough to get in the way. “I can help you get inside, if you want,” she says, holding her hand out. “Then we can take a look at it, get it all wrapped up.”

For a moment, Bethany just stares at her, searching her face for any signs of pity. Instead she finds only sincere concern for a companion, the same as it would be if any of the others were injured. With a nod, she lets Merrill wrap an arm around her shoulders and guide her slowly into the warehouse. She can feel the eyes of the rest of the group on them, some more subtle than others, but she knows deep down that they’re just making sure she’s okay. Like it or not, she and Carver are the youngest, and though he tries so obviously hard to act like he isn’t, there are still moments where the others look at him and remember that he’s only nineteen, too—moments like right now, as he paces agitatedly across the floor, looking like he’s never been more stressed in his life.

“Carver,” Bethany calls as Merrill helps her sit up against the wall, her legs stretched out. “I’ll be fine.” She laughs a little despite the stinging pain. “It’s not like we’ll have to amputate it or anything.”

Anders kneels down beside her, first aid kit in hand and a good-natured smile on his face. “We might.”

Merrill smacks his arm. “Don’t scare them!” she hisses as she sits down next to Bethany.

Garrett turns to Carver, cool and composed. “She’s fine,” he says matter-of-factly, a playful smirk on his face. “If it were really that bad, none of us would be joking.”

Carver snorts. “You might.”

Garrett puts a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Dear brother, you wound me.”

Merrill giggles as she watches them, her gaze soft. “Your siblings remind me of my family sometimes,” she says as Anders begins cleaning and dressing the wound. “Well-intentioned, but sometimes they need to be reminded that you’re an adult, same as them.”

Bethany nods. If there’s anyone that understands her, it’s Merrill. “To be fair,” she says quietly, “sometimes I need to be reminded of that, too.”

Merrill turns to look at her, pushing a few strands of hair out of her face. “Then I’ll remind you,” she says. “You’re a grown woman. You don’t have to always agree or go along with them. You can stand up for yourself like anyone else.”

Bethany nods again, unable to stop a faint smile from breaking through. Anders doesn’t say anything, but she can see the blush on his face, as if he’s just witnessed something he feels he wasn’t meant to see.

—

The Hawkes are only on the run for a month or two before they meet their first recruit (and fifth member).

Well, perhaps “on the run” isn’t the right phrase. All Killjoys are technically “on the run” from Better Living Industries—it comes with the whole “openly rebelling against your corrupt government” thing. But it doesn’t really feel like running. It feels like surviving. Every Killjoy knows it’s dangerous to stay in one place for too long.

Still, they’re traveling a lot more than they did when their parents were both still alive. Growing up in the Zones outside of Battery City, away from BLI brainwashing, the Hawke children learned how to thrive in the desert fairly quickly, which meant that their family was able to more easily live off the land for longer periods of time.

Now, though, after selling most of their belongings, they live out of their car, a black 1969 Chevy Camaro convertible, spray-painted with two red stripes down the sides and a red bird symbol on the hood (courtesy of Garrett). In honor of their surname as well as their living situation, they’ve christened themselves the Birds of Passage.

For obvious reasons, one of their most common pit stops is one of several Dead Pegasus gas stations littering the Zones. The siblings usually draw straws to determine which one of them has to pump the gas.

“Damn! Again?” Carver says, staring at the short straw between his fingers in disbelief. Frowning, he starts to open the left-side car door. “Just my luck.”

In the driver’s seat, Marian reaches into the back and pats Carver on the shoulder, a smirk on her face. “You’ll live. Now go.” With that, she gives him a light shove out the door. Carver snorts.

As he starts pumping the gas, Marian absentmindedly surveys the area, not really expecting to see anything out of the ordinary. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she spots someone she’s never seen before at one of the other fuel pumps: a petite girl filling up a black and forest green motorbike.

Bethany seems to notice her at the same time. “Who’s that?”

Garrett strokes his beard, like an asshole. “No idea.”

“Let’s find out.” Before anyone else can respond, Marian hops out of the car, popping the collar of her black leather jacket. She’s mostly tuned Garrett out at this point, but she thinks she can hear him warn her not to scare the poor girl. He underestimates her ability to be charming rather than terrifying.

The first thing Marian notices is that the girl dresses like a Killjoy. Her brown boots have flowers painted on the sides, and her acid-washed jeans are ripped and dirty. The back of her denim vest features a large daisy with white petals and a yellow center, and in the center is a radiation hazard symbol.

“Nice logo,” Marian says as she approaches.

The girl yelps in surprise, nearly dropping the gas pump in her hands. When she turns around, Marian sees that her face is adorned with branch- or root-like tattoos on her cheeks, forehead, and chin. “Oh!” she says, clearly taken aback. “Uh…thank you.”

Marian can practically hear Garrett’s “I told you so” from the Camaro. Holding a hand up, she says, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Somehow, her voice still comes out sounding gruff and vaguely threatening.

“Oh, that’s alright,” the girl replies, leaning against her motorcycle and seeming to relax a little. “I was just filling up Feathers.”

Marian raises an eyebrow. “Strange name for a motorcycle.”

The girl blushes. “Well, I named it after a pet I had when I was younger.”

“Oh,” Marian says, nodding. That makes a bit more sense. “A bird?”

The girl laughs a little and shakes her head. “Oh, no, it was a lizard. I always wanted a bird so I could name it Feathers. But I grew up in the Zones, and there aren’t many birds out here. Lots of lizards, though.” She gives Marian a lopsided smile. “I took what I could get.”

Marian can’t help it; she laughs, though in the back of her mind, she wonders why she’s never seen this girl before, if she grew up in the Zones.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” the girl says, her green eyes widening. “I didn’t mean to ramble. I didn’t even introduce myself.” She holds out a hand, both of which are covered in long, fingerless fishnet gloves that end near her elbows. “Deadly Daisy. Daisy for short. Or you can just call me Merrill. I don’t mind.”

That explains the logo. “Kitty Hawke,” Marian replies, shaking Merrill’s hand firmly.

Merrill nods and starts to speak again, but something behind Marian makes her stop and narrow her eyes in confusion. “Who—?”

Marian glances over her shoulder and nearly jumps out of her shoes. Not one, not two, but all three of her siblings have decided to join the conversation.

“Firebird,” Garrett says, bowing dramatically—so dramatically, in fact, that it makes his stupid sunglasses fall off his face. Garrett has a habit of collecting weird sunglasses and goggles and such. This particular pair has bright orange lenses, which Marian is pretty sure do nothing to block out the sun, and flames sticking out on either side.

Marian rolls her eyes. “My twin brother,” she explains. “It seems I stole all his brain cells in the womb.”

Garrett blows a raspberry at her as he picks his sunglasses off the ground and uses his shirt to wipe off the sand and dirt.

Bethany steps forward, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ears, one of her nervous habits. “Midnight Sun,” she says with a tiny smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh! You, too!” Merrill says. Gesturing to Carver, who has yet to say anything, she asks, “Who’s the grumpy one?”

“I’m not—” Carver starts, but he cuts himself off at the sound of his siblings’ snickering. “Fantom Fighter,” he says, his face heating up. “Two Fs.” He turns around and gestures to the two large black Fs painted on the back of his jean jacket. Then, gesturing to Bethany, he adds, “I’m her twin brother.”

Bethany chuckles. “And we’re all siblings.”

Merrill cups her hands over her face. “Oh, my goodness.”

Marian clears her throat. “Anyway,” she says, side-eyeing Garrett, “why are you guys even here?”

Garrett throws his hands up. “Don’t look at me! I am but a slave to the whims of our younger siblings!”

Bethany and Carver exchange embarrassed glances, then both turn to glare at Garrett. Marian sighs. They’re all a mess.

“Oh, well, I shouldn’t keep you,” Merrill says, patting the side of her motorcycle. “Feathers and I can get moving, if you all need to leave.”

That catches Marian’s attention. “Wait, you’re traveling alone?” She hadn’t seen anyone else around, but she’d assumed that Merrill had at least one companion somewhere, perhaps inside the shitty convenience store connected to the gas station.

Merrill nods. “I was raised by neutrals,” she says—people who live outside Battery City, but don’t openly rebel against BLI. “I didn’t become a Killjoy until just recently. I haven’t really found a group yet.”

That explains why Marian’s never seen her before. Neutrals tend to stay out of the way unless they run a business, like their friend Varric.

“That’s dangerous, you know,” Carver says, but he sounds less matter-of-fact and more concerned. “You’re a lot more likely to get ghosted by yourself.”

Merrill sighs. “I know. But what am I supposed to do? Invite myself to tag along with the next Killjoy gang I see?”

Garrett shrugs. “Why not? You could tag along with us.”

To be fair, Marian had been thinking that, too, in the back of her mind, but it still stuns her to actually hear it spoken.

Merrill’s eyes widen with hope. “That would be wonderful, but I wouldn’t want to impose…”

Instinctively, Marian and her siblings all turn to look at each other, none of them saying anything, just glancing back and forth with various facial expressions ranging from embarrassment to uncertainty to excitement. Finally, Marian turns back to Merrill and says, “You wouldn’t be imposing. We’d be glad to have you join us.”

Merrill gasps. “Oh, thank you! You won’t regret it, I promise!”

Bethany smiles. “Welcome to the Birds of Passage, Daisy.”

(At the use of Merrill’s Killjoy name, Marian briefly wonders just how long her siblings had been eavesdropping before Merrill noticed them.)

“We’re headed to one of the outer Zones for the evening,” Carver explains. “You could follow us on your bike until we find a place to set up camp.”

“Oh, perfect!” Merrill says. “I’ve been meaning to head that way. Too many Dracs this close to Bat City.”

When the Hawkes climb back into the Camaro, Marian steals a glance at Merrill in the rearview mirror, watches as their newfound companion unties a green bandana from her belt loop and wraps it around her head to keep her hair out of her face. When Marian steps on the gas pedal and tears out of the Dead Pegasus parking lot, the roar of the motorcycle lets her know that Deadly Daisy is right behind them.

—

Fenris doesn’t sleep well that night.

Granted, Fenris doesn’t sleep well most nights, but for some reason, the night after Bethany gets shot in the leg is particularly bad. Maybe it’s the hard concrete floor of the warehouse, which no amount of blankets or cushions can completely alleviate. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s lying only a few feet away from Garrett, who sleeps like a log and snores like a chainsaw. Maybe it’s the pain in his shoulder from an injury a few days prior.

Or maybe it’s the fact that tonight, his nightmares are worse than usual. Tonight, when he dreams, he is alone, but worse than that: the bodies of his fellow Killjoys lie dead at his feet, glassy eyes wide, their hands still on the triggers of their guns. Draculoids—more Dracs than he’s ever seen at one time—close in on him, zombielike in the way they reach for him, pull at him from every angle, pin him to the ground and snarl in his face. He’d fight if he could, fight with everything he has, but his body is stiff and frozen, and no amount of willpower can force even his mouth to move. For a man with an aversion to closeness and touching, and painful tattoos from BL/ind experimentation, the sensation of being trapped makes him feel like he’s about to vomit.

It’s when they pull out a Drac mask and shove it over his head that he wakes up gasping for breath.

It takes a few minutes for his body to relax and his heart to stop pounding in his ears. Fenris can see the faintest bit of morning light trickling through the windows—he’d guess that it’s around five o’clock—and concludes that attempting to get a decent amount of sleep will probably be a fruitless endeavor. Sighing and forcing himself to sit upright, he reaches into the small backpack beside him and pulls out a Killjoy-made magazine that they snagged at the last gas stop.

The zine is filled with artwork of desert landscape and rebels fighting BL/ind, accompanied by writing—a few short stories and poems, a few articles and essays, all about the highs and lows of revolution. It’s a perfect representation of life in the Zones, every copy made by hand, since few (if any) Killjoys have access to a working printer. However many were made, probably no more than twenty, the artists and authors must have had to redraw and rewrite their work. Two Polaroid photos are taped to the inside cover, one of a Dead Pegasus gas station at sunset, the other of two female Killjoys kissing, with their names listed at the bottom. There are probably different photos in every copy, likely taken from the same photographer, someone lucky enough to have access to a working Polaroid camera (though Fenris concedes that it’s actually not too difficult to find batteries out here, though they might be half-empty).

He’s so focused on flipping through the zine that he doesn’t realize anyone else is awake—at least, not until the sound of someone sitting down next to him nearly makes him jump out of his skin.

“Sorry,” Anders whispers, holding a hand up. Behind him, the orange light of the sunrise creates a halo around his blond head. “I assume you couldn’t sleep, either?”

Fenris makes a noncommittal grunt, enough to give Anders his answer, but curt enough to hopefully get his I don’t want to talk about it message across. He’d rather not have to even think about the nightmares that his subconscious assaults him with, let alone explain them.

“Alright,” Anders says with an understanding nod. He glances over at the zine, skimming the page Fenris has it open to with clear interest.

Fenris holds it out for him to take. “You can look through it.”

Anders hesitates for a moment before obliging. Fenris watches his face as he flips through the pages. The brilliant poetry and detailed artwork seem to fill him with awe, similar to what Fenris felt browsing the zine’s contents, but there’s something else, too, something deeper—something like longing.

“I wanted to tell you something,” Anders says finally, slowly closing the booklet. “I just remembered, and I think you deserve to know.” He glances over at the windows, and the sun shines on his pale face, reflecting off of his gold earring. Without looking at Fenris, he says, “You have a sister, named Varania.”

Fenris blinks in surprise. A sister? Anders apparently knew him when they both lived in Battery City, before BLI wiped Fenris’s mind—or reprogrammed him, as they like to call it. It’s times like these that make him feel like Anders knows him better than he himself does. “And you’re just now telling me this?” Fenris says in an attempt to mask his bewilderment. A sister. He has a sister.

“You only mentioned her once or twice,” Anders says. “It was the last thing on my mind. But something reminded me of it this morning, so I figured I’d tell you.” He shrugs. “I don’t know much else about her. But I know she’s still alive, or she was by the time I left Bat City.”

Sister. Sister. Sister. His brain repeats it so often that it no longer really feels like a word. He knows he’d be angry if Anders had kept this hidden from him, but at the same time, he’s not really sure what he’s supposed to do with the information. She’s probably still in Battery City, which means it’s too late and far too dangerous to go back and search for her, or even attempt to write a letter to her.

Still, he feels like he has to say something. “Well,” he mumbles, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Thank you. For telling me.” Then, tilting his head to the side, he adds, “May I ask what reminded you?”

Anders sighs and pushes a few loose strands of hair out of his face. “She appeared in a dream last night.”

Fenris doesn’t expect it to hurt, but it does, just a little. To think that he doesn’t even know what his own sister looks like, while a man who barely knows anything about her sees her in his dreams.

Abruptly, Anders hands the zine back to him and stands up, covering his eyes with a hand to block out the sun. Fenris glances down at the page he left open: a poem written in an angry hand, calling for revolution, calling for justice.

—

Varric Tethras is what people in the Zones call a “neutral.” He doesn’t wear the flashy clothes, he goes by his real name, and he tends to stay in one spot minding his own business rather than get into fights with Draculoids. He has his own little gas station convenience store in Zone Three and is an expert at aiding Killjoys without giving BLI a reason to go after him. In short, he’s the perfect person to go to when there’s trouble, and there’s always trouble.

The trouble this time has nothing to do with BL/ind, for once; about five miles away from Varric’s shop, the Camaro broke down, so Marian had to jump start it using Merrill’s motorcycle, and now they’re hanging out in the store while she tries to fix the car.

Garrett frowns as he glances out the window at the setting sun. “We might have to camp out here for the night, Varric.” It’s not the first time, and he knows Varric doesn’t mind, but he still feels bad about it.

Varric waves a hand nonchalantly. “Yeah, I figured,” he says from behind the store counter, where he seems to be digging through some junk he’s stored underneath. Varric is a whopping four-foot-eight, so the chair he uses to reach the counter makes most other people who sit in it look like giants. Merrill finds a particular delight in this, and she’s so sweet that anyone would feel terrible asking her to get off of it, even Marian, which has been an especially interesting phenomenon to witness.

As if on cue, the front door swings open, and there stands Marian, covered in grease and wearing nothing but a sports bra and ripped black shorts. “I’m turning in for the night,” she says as she waltzes into the shop, letting the door slam shut behind her. “Round two starts in the morning.”

Garrett watches as she heads into the bathroom to wash herself off. Carver came in from practicing his shooting about a half hour ago (and is currently sitting on the floor eating potato chips), so now they’re all inside for the evening. Bethany’s been drawing quietly, her brow furrowed in concentration as she sits on the worn couch in one of the back rooms, and Garrett and Merrill have been making their own fun out front. The store is Varric’s home, so he had to get creative with the few extra rooms.

Garrett is wandering aimlessly through the little aisles, examining various snacks, all stamped with the BLI logo, when he hears the front door open, and in walks possibly the most gorgeous Killjoy Garrett has ever seen.

The first thing he notices is the shock of silver-white hair, the way the undercut contrasts against the man’s brown skin. The dim light of the store reflects against his leather jacket and his surprisingly wide eyes. When he takes a few steps forward, a chain hanging from his black jeans—yes, jeans, in the desert—makes a jangling sound, and his heavy footsteps suggest combat boots. He looks like he just walked out of a mosh pit, but that’s not what intrigues Garrett the most. No, what really catches his attention is the pale white tattoos that stretch from the man’s bottom lip down into his chest and out to the tips of his fingers—they almost seem to glow. “Varric?” the man calls in a deep voice as he surveys the area.

Varric pops his head out from the back of the store. “Oh-ho! Long time no see, Wolfy!”

The man rolls his eyes at the nickname and leans awkwardly against one of the snack aisles. “I see you are having a sleepover,” he says slowly as he eyes each of the Birds suspiciously (save for Marian, who is still washing up, thankfully). Bethany walks out into the store to see him better, and Garrett flashes him his best good-natured smile, causing the man to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Their car broke down not far from here,” Varric explains as he walks out from behind the store counter. “And because I’m just so charitable, I let them stay for the night.” That’s his way of saying that they’re friends.

“Hm.” The man makes his way through the store, seemingly on edge, like he’s keenly aware of the way the Birds glance his way out of the corners of their eyes, pretending that they’re not looking at him. Eventually, Garrett gives up on trying to be inconspicuous and plops down in a chair pushed up against one wall, allowing himself to stare openly. He’s never been good with subtlety.

Suddenly Marian’s voice rings out through the shop. “Who’s this?”

Varric clears his throat. “Birds of Passage, allow me to formally introduce you to the Painted Wolf. He’s kind of new, doesn’t have a gang to roll with yet.”

The Painted Wolf looks away, not making eye contact as he wanders into another aisle where he can’t as easily be seen. “I think I would prefer to keep it that way. No offense.”

After a few beats of silence, Merrill says from her place on top of the chair behind the store counter, “You have tattoos, like me.”

Instinctively, almost as if he was expecting it, the Wolf replies, “But you received yours willingly, I’ll wager.”

Merrill blinks in surprise. “Well. Yes, I did. You mean you didn’t?”

The Painted Wolf does not respond, just runs a hand through his hair and takes a breath through his nose.

Garrett frowns a little and stands back up, making his way over to where Marian is still standing in front of the bathroom door, her arms crossed. “Don’t tell me,” she says quietly. “You think we should let him come with us.”

Garrett shrugs. “Well, why not? He doesn’t have anyone. And he’s…intriguing.”

Marian rolls her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you think he’s hot.”

“I do not,” Garrett lies, but his face heats up, giving him away. “Okay, well, maybe I do, but that’s not the only reason.”

Marian shakes her head. “He doesn’t seem too keen on making friends. I mean, he just said he’d rather be alone. Also, what you call ‘intriguing’ I call ‘suspicious.’ The man’s got secrets.”

“So do we,” Garrett says, though at the moment he can’t think of anything particularly damning. If nothing else, he’s sure Carver’s got something embarrassing.

“You being gay doesn’t count as a secret when you gawk at any man that isn’t related to us,” Marian says, a tiny smirk forming on her face.

“That’s not what I meant!” Garrett says. He can feel his face turning even redder. He needs to find a way to get Marian on his side, and if he can’t do it with emotion, then maybe he can do it with logic. “Seriously, I think we should talk to him. He’s a new Killjoy, but he looks way more experienced than most newbies. He might even be older than us. I’d be willing to bet he knows something about BL/ind. I just think he’d be good to have on our side. And it’s not like he has to stay with us forever.”

Marian seems to think it over for a long time. It’s different than it was with Merrill. Unlike the Wolf, Merrill had expressed a clear interest in finding a group to fall in with, and the Birds just happened to be the first ones to click with her. Also, Marian is a lesbian and about ten times more suspicious of men than she is of women as a general rule, which is fair, but it makes these things difficult sometimes. Finally, she says, “Fine. If you can convince him, then I’m game. I can go tell the others.” She cracks her knuckles. “At the very least, he looks like he knows something worth knowing.”

Garrett holds his hands up. “Well, hopefully you won’t have to beat it out of him, so you can stop with the threatening looks.”

Marian snorts. “Just asserting my dominance, my dear little brother.” She reaches forward and musses his hair.

Garrett shakes his head as he starts to head over to the other side of the store, where the Wolf is standing. He doesn’t bother pointing out that she’s only older than him by nine minutes, because she’ll hang those nine minutes over his head until the day they die.

The Painted Wolf looks up from the magazine he’s been flipping through. “Let me guess,” he says. “You want me to join your gang.”

Garrett smiles sheepishly. “What can I say? We think you’d be a good addition to the team.”

The Wolf frowns and puts the magazine back on the rack. “You barely know anything about me.”

“I know you’re a Killjoy traveling alone, and that’s enough for me,” Garrett says, and it’s the truth. Killjoys stick together. It’s the law of the desert. It’s how they survive.

The Wolf narrows his eyes. “I already said I prefer to be alone.”

Garrett folds his arms over his chest, allowing his knowledge of the Zones to give him confidence. “That’s how I can tell you’re new,” he says. “Rule number one of making it as a Killjoy: find a gang. Hordes of Dracs are less likely to target larger groups, and even if they do, you have a better chance of making it out alive when you’re not alone. If you watch our backs, we’ll watch yours.”

The Wolf nods slowly, as if this just confirmed something he already suspected. “You watch our backs, we’ll watch yours,” he repeats to himself. “It’s...a sentiment I am not entirely familiar with.”

“I figured you were from Bat City,” Garrett says, stroking his beard thoughtfully. (Carver and Marian like to make fun of him when he does that. Marian says it makes him look like an asshole.)

The Wolf nods again. “The sense of camaraderie was one of the things that drew me to the Zones, and to the Killjoy lifestyle specifically. But until now, I suppose I have been too wary to actively engage in it.”

Garrett raises an eyebrow, careful not to show too much excitement. “Until now, you say?”

The Wolf gives the softest chuckle, his mouth curving briefly upward. “Perhaps you have a point about me traveling alone. BL/ind knows that I left Battery City; no doubt they’re looking for me. It...would be prudent to join a larger group, at least for a little while.”

Garrett allows himself the beginnings of a grin. “It definitely would.”

The Wolf clears his throat. “I...never got your name,” he says, fingers playing mindlessly with the hem of his jacket.

“Firebird,” Garrett replies, holding a hand out for him to shake.

The Wolf looks at it for a moment before responding. “Well, then, Firebird,” he says slowly, “if you’ll have me, I would like to travel with you and your gang.”

“I certainly would love to have you,” Garrett replies, only realizing how strange it sounds once the words are out of his mouth. His face heats up. “I...I didn’t mean it like—”

Across the room, Marian calls, “Real smooth.” Garrett flips her off.

An awkward little smile forms on the Wolf’s face. “I know what you meant,” he says, but if Garrett isn’t mistaken, he’s blushing, too.

—

A few days later, Varric, whose talents include knowing everything that’s happening in the Zones, says, “So I got a tip that there’s someone after you guys.”

Isabela rolls her eyes and leans against the counter, conscious of the way her ripped white jean shorts ride up her ass—she’s doing it on purpose, and she peers over her shoulder to make sure Marian’s watching. “Someone’s always after us, Varric. This isn’t new.”

“No, like a major someone,” Varric replies. “Does the name Meredith Stannard mean anything to any of you?”

The Birds exchange glances from their various positions throughout the shop. They’ve all heard the name, but only Fenris and Anders seem to know who she is. Makes sense, since they’re the only ones who have actually lived in Battery City and seen BL/ind’s inner workings up close.

“She’s a Scarecrow, right?” Marian says from behind Isabela. She steps forward and takes a large sip out of her Neptune Pop can. “Isn’t that all we need to know?”

“She isn’t just any old Scarecrow,” Fenris says as he examines the shelves for more food. “She is one of the Director’s favorites—very high-ranking, always flanked by six or more Draculoids and sometimes other Scarecrows. I have known a few BL/ind workers who do not wish to kill, but do so because they fear the consequences of disobeying.” He shakes his head, speaking calmly but severely. “Meredith is not one of them. She kills out of hate and nothing less. She views it as her duty, a mission she will carry out until the day she dies. I suggest taking her seriously. She has slaughtered many of you.”

The way he refers to Killjoys isn’t lost on Isabela. It’s been a little less than a year, she thinks, since he left Battery City and joined the rebels in the Zones, but he still seems hesitant to identify himself as one of them. He still refers to them as you instead of us.

His words send a brief chill down Isabela’s spine, but she shakes it off and looks up at Marian to gauge her reaction. Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t seem fazed.

“It doesn’t matter how many of us she’s killed,” she says. The piercings in her left ear gleam in the light from the windows. “She bleeds just like the rest of us, and she’ll die just like the rest of us.”

Varric holds a hand up. “Fair point, I suppose. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. My source says Meredith considers you guys one of the most dangerous gangs in the Zones. That means one of her biggest priorities is wiping you out. Just...be careful.”

“Careful is my middle name,” Marian says as she finishes her Neptune Pop, crushes the can in one hand, and launches it across the store, causing Anders to duck because of his ridiculously long bird legs. The can lands in the garbage bin with a loud crash.

Marian grins. It’s lopsided, and her teeth are crooked and stained with soda, but it just makes Isabela want to kiss that alluring, imperfect mouth even more.

“I thought your middle name was Selene,” Merrill says from her designated spot in Varric’s chair. They call it the Tallening Chair.

Marian’s face softens, and her cheeks turn pink as she gently explains to Merrill that it’s a figure of speech. Isabela watches in silence until Marian suddenly turns to her, lightly smacks her ass, and says with a playful glint in her eyes, “Well, back to business.”

Isabela smirks. Works every time.

—

It only takes half an hour for Marian’s nonchalance about Meredith Stannard to come back and bite her in the ass.

“Guys!”

Garrett bursts through the front door of Varric’s shop, his eyes wide and panicked. He’d been outside restocking the trunk with supplies. “I think we’ve got company.”

Marian peers outside, and the rest of the Birds do the same. Sure enough, veering into the parking lot are two white vans with the Better Living Industries symbol emblazoned on their doors.

Shit.

In a flash, they all whip out their ray guns and rush outside just in time to see a horde of Dracs pouring out of the vans. Then, from the passenger seat of one of the vans, a woman climbs out. She’s tall, blonde, and middle-aged, and her eyes seem to pierce right through them.

“Ah,” she says as the Dracs line up behind her, brandishing their plain white ray guns. “The notorious Birds of Passage, or so you call yourselves.” As she speaks, she pulls out her own weapon and seems to aim it straight at Marian. “It looks as though you’ve been expecting me.”

For a moment, the two groups just stand there silently, revolvers pointed at one another, a classic example of a Mexican standoff. It feels like the air has been sucked out of the atmosphere, like the atoms themselves have stopped moving completely. Then Meredith snaps her fingers with her free hand, and the desert explodes in gunfire.

——

killjoy names: garrett - firebird marian - kitty hawke bethany - midnight sun carver - fantom fighter merrill - deadly daisy anders - nuclear blonde isabela - storm chaser fenris - the painted wolf

#SORRY FOR THE LONG AS FUCK AUTHORS NOTE THE REST WILL NOT BE THAT LONG #dragon age 2 #da2 #hawkebela #fenhanders #bethmerrill #hawke #isabela #fenris #anders #bethany hawke #merrill #f!hawkebela #m!fenhanders #male hawke #female hawke #garrett hawke #marian hawke #my fics

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ssimagines · 7 years

Text

My lips are chapped||Barry Allen||Cancer series 2

Pairing: Barry Allen x Sick!Reader

Word Count: 3694

Summary: You have cancer and are currently going through chemo therapy. You are currently seeing forensic scientist, Barry Allen, and he just found out that you are sick. This part is just about you two figuring out your sickness.

Warnings: Serious illness, Cancer, Sorta sad not really, minor swear words

Note: this is based off Cancer by MCR covered by TØP. I kinda want to make this a series, but let’s see how this one goes first.This is part two so if you haven’t read part one first. Takes Place at the beginning of Season 3

Thank you for all the love on Part 1! When this was posted there were over 70 notes on the first part so thank you so much for all the love and hopefully you will love this part just as much. I hope to get part three out my Sunday. Again thank you for all the love!

Part 1

You had only told Barry about your illness yesterday, yet it felt like a life time ago. Almost everything had changed since then. Things weren’t the way that you had thought they were going to be when he found out. They were way better, and you were thankful for that.

True to his word, Barry had taken the rest of yesterday off work and took you back to his place. The two of you sat curled up on his couch all night watching episode after episode of How I Met Your Mother. He had you tucked into his side under a large, warm, fuzzy blanket; you fell asleep like that cuddled up to his side. He woke you up around midnight offering to take you home, but asked him if you could stay. Barry wanted the same thing, so he let you stay. You sleep in his bed right next to him last night.

When you woke up this morning, he was no longer beside you. You sat up slowly because the nausea you had felt at the end of your date yesterday had returned with a fiery vengeance. Yesterday seemed like child’s play compared to what you felt now. You ran to the bathroom and leaned over the toilet to puke. You heard the quick patter of feet come up behind you. As you emptied your stomach, you felt Barry rub your back in soothing circles with a significant amount of pressure.

“Are you okay?” he asked when you had finished.

“Yeah, that happens sometimes,” You said as you stood up and flushed the toilet. “Do you have a new toothbrush I can use?”

He crouched down to get under the bathroom sink and began digging around as you watched his shirtless back. Your eyes wandered over his muscular figure in awe. He was lanky, but damn did he work out. When he got up, he caught you checking him out which caused a smile to stretch across his face.

“Like what you see?” Barry said as he strolled over carrying a packaged red and yellow toothbrush. He was chuckling heartily which left a warm feeling in your gut. You grabbed his hips as he got closer, pulling him to you faster. Your hips were pressed together. You could tell it was making him a little hot and bothered. You smiled at him as you ran your fingers up his abs.

“I like it very much thank you for asking,” you said. His laugh resonated through his body shaking you as well. He leaned down to try and kiss you, but you stopped him by putting a hand between your mouth and his. His lips made contact with the palm of your hand which caused him to pull away. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you.

“I have puke breath,” You said to which he held the toothbrush up to his nose. There was a small smirk painting his lips. You smiled at him brightly. Though your puke breath was definitely a reason for not wanting Barry to kiss you, it wasn’t the real reason. You were insecure about your lips. After your first chemo session, you noticed that they were really chapped, and it had only gotten worse since then. They really hurt too so you didn’t want to have to worry about being in pain while kissing him.

You took the toothbrush from him and moved around Barry to stand in front of the sink. Carefully, you opened the package stumbling a little over it because you could see Barry standing behind you hovering. This was a simple case of nervousness, but you worried that Barry would perceive it as another thing he had to help you with.

“Did you buy this toothbrush because they are the flash’s colors?” You asked him trying to pull his attention away from your trembling hands. You saw him make eye contact with you through the mirror at the sound of your voice. You were able to relax enough that you could get the toothbrush out of its package and put toothpaste on it. Barry let a small laugh through his nose.

“I didn’t even think about that,” he responded as he leaned against the doorway.

“You totally did, didn’t you?” You turned your head to look at him with both your hands resting on the either side of the sink. “You are a hardcore flash fanboy. I’ve seen the way your eyes light up when you talk about him.”

“Oh, come on, that is so lame,” there was something about that damn laugh that just filled you with warmth from your head to your toes. “So, what if I take pride in my hometown’s totally rocking superhero, at least I am proud of mine.”

You glared at Barry’s dig at you about something you had mentioned about the Arrow about two months ago, but you didn’t add anything else. Neither of you did. You ran water over the toothpaste.

“Are you hungry?” Barry said coming to you and wrapping his arms around your waist. He rested his head on your shoulder and stared at you in the reflection of the mirror.

“Are you always this clingy with girls you have only known for about three months?” You said before putting the toothbrush in your mouth.

“Hey, it could be worse. I could have asked you to move in with me by now,” he said laughing. You laughed as well as you brushed your teeth. He kissed your cheek before letting go. He walked to the doorway of your bathroom.

“I’m making breakfast, eggs and pancakes. When you’re done freshening up, come eat. Okay?”

“Okay,” you responded spitting in the sink. You watched Barry from the reflection as he moved down the hall. You felt yourself relax without him over your shoulder. Two minutes later, you finished brushing your teeth and rinsed off the new toothbrush. You placed it into the cup beside the sink which just happened to have the flashes logo on it. It held what you presumed to be Barry’s toothbrush. Though, like you said earlier, you had only been seeing Barry for three months, you liked the idea of having a toothbrush at his place. It was comforting.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you ran your hand through your short hair. When you pulled your hand away, a chunk of your hair came with it. After your surgery, you cut your hair in preparation for this day. You had read that it would be easier to adjust to no hair if your hair was already short when it started falling out, but you were left in shock by the hair you had just pulled out. You looked at the spot and saw that it wasn’t two noticeable, but you felt incredibly self-conscious about it. You were already running your hand over the small bald spot continuously.

“Y/N, are you okay up there?” You heard Barry call from what you presumed was downstairs.

“Yeah, I’ll be down in a moment,” you called back. Quickly, you threw the hair in the trash and went back into Barry’s room. You found a black beanie on the floor and pulled it on. You then made your way down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Last night, Barry had explained to you that he had moved back into the home of his foster father where he had grown up last year because he spent so much time there. You hadn’t really thought to much about it then, but no one else was really home and awake at that time. Now as you walked into the kitchen in only a pair of Barry’s basketball shorts and his black Star Labs sweatshirt, you were very aware of the older man, who you presumed was Joe, standing in the kitchen with a cup of coffee having a conversation with Barry.

Barry was leaning against the counter beside the man with a mug sipping his own coffee. Barry looked at you with a smile. He set the mug down on the counter and walked toward you. Gently, He brushed the back of his hand against your cheek. He ended with his palm on your cheek which you leaned your head into ever so slightly. His eyes shone brightly, and the look brought butterflies to your stomach. You couldn’t help, but think about all the things Barry did that made you feel so comfortable around him.

“Barry, you gonna introduce me properly to Y/N here?” the older man said. You both turned to look at him. It was as if you both had forgotten that he was even there as you shared a moment. You felt your face and ears heat up a little at the thought of the man seeing this intimate moment between the two of you.

You noticed that he already knew your name. You were surprised that Barry talk about you enough for him to remember it.

“Of course, Joe, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is my foster father, Joe,” Barry said gesturing between you two. Butterflies erupted in your stomach when Barry calling you his girlfriend. You reached your hand out to Joe to shake his.

“Nice to meet you,” Joe said to you with a kind smile that reached his eyes. “Barry has told you so much about you. He talks so much about, and it seems like he’s always on that phone texting away at you. I can’t believe you actually put up with this kid. I don’t know what I did to make him end up like this.”

You laughed and looked at Barry who had a slight red tinge to his cheeks. Wrapping your arm around his waist, you snuggled into his side. Barry enveloped you in his arms without missing a beat. The warmth of his body made the heavy sweatshirt seem a little suffocating, but you didn’t say anything to ruin the moment.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, too,” you said looking back to Joe. “Barry talks about you a lot as well. I think he’s proud of you. Even if you he doesn’t explicitly say it.”

With that statement, pride and love light up Joe’s face like a Christmas tree. You were happy that Barry had Joe in his life, that Barry had this family. After about a month of talking, Barry told you about his past. It devastated you to hear about it. Knowing that he had a family who loved him as their own, made it seem not so bad.

“I will, let you lovebirds get back to whatever you were planning on doing,” Joe said gesturing between you two with his coffee cup. “I have to get to work, but I will see you at the CCPD, Bare.”

“Of course, Joe. I’ll be in a little late. I already let Julian know,” Barry said.

“Okay, Bye, you two. Again, it was nice to meet you Y/N. I hope to see you around here more.”

“Bye,” You and Barry both said as Joe left you two alone.

You released Barry and went to sit down at the table. Barry went to the counter and picked up two plates. He set one down before you and sat down in front of the other. You two made small talk through your breakfast and made plans for tomorrow. Afterwards, you decided it was time for you to head home. Barry said he needed to get to work, so you parted ways for the time being leaving him with one final hug and a promise to see each other at a later date.

Barry’s P.O.V. (I won’t do this too often, but there was no real way to carry on the way I want to without it)

Barry let his frustration flow through him into every punch to the large black punching bag. He had been at it for at least twenty minutes, and his hands ached, growing sorer with each punch.

Barry needed this time to clear his head. His mind kept going over his relationship with Y/N. He really liked the sweet h/c (hair color) girl. He remembered the first time he really talked to her.

Barry was in the flashpoint timeline sitting in CC Jitters waiting for Iris to come in so he could work up the courage to ask her out. One thing Barry was grateful for in flashpoint was that he and Iris weren’t raised like siblings. He thought because they never lived like that that maybe he would get a chance to be with her.

He heard the door open and flipped around thinking he’d see Iris coming in for her usual coffee. The person who entered CC Jitters was not Iris, but she took his breath away. He stared at the girl with her h/l h/c hair and e/c eyes. His mouth was parted as he stared at her. Barry could feel his heart beat, irregularly thumping against his rib cage.

Barry watched in awe as the girl ordered her drink and patiently waited for it be finished. The littlest things she did, amazed him. As she collected her drink, Barry stumbled around his table trying to shove his stuff back into his bag, so that he could talk to her before she left.

When he had finally collected everything, he looked up to see the girl had already made her way out of Jitters. He got up and ran to catch up to her. He kept his distance following her waiting for an opportunity to introduce himself to her.

The girl pulled her phone out of her pocket to answer a phone call and seemed to forget her surroundings. She kept walking straight into traffic. Barry heard the horn of a truck that was coming barreling at her at the same time that she did. She was so scared that she dropped her phone and her coffee as she stared at the rapidly approaching truck. Barry used his speed to save her and run the two of them into an alley away from the sight of others.

The girl was shaking in Barry’s arms as he slowly pulled away to look her over for any possible injuries. He looked into her eyes and saw fear and something else that he had never seen before. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew that he had made the right move with her. That they had some future.

“I- Did you- Thank you,” she said looking over the man in plaid. It occurred to Barry in that moment that he was in no way disguised. This girl could see his face after he just used his powers to save her.

“Who are you?” She asked him. She stepped further back from him. The look on her face seemed to say she was trying to figure out who this man who just saved her was.

“My name’s Barry Allen,” He said trying to come up with more to say. In this timeline, he wasn’t the flash, and he had no way to explain what he just did or why he had the same powers of the flash. The name he had given her didn’t help to ease her mind as she still looked over him frantically. Barry noticed that her eyebrows were furrowed tightly.

“You- you saved me,” she sputtered out the words. It sounded as though she was tripping over her tongue. “Wh-why d-did you save me?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to let you get hit by that truck now, was I?” He said laughing at the shock on her face. He had never had an encounter like this when saving people before. He guessed it was probably because they always saw him as the Flash and never Barry.

“H-h-how?” She said as she looked between Barry and the entrance to the alley. Barry laughed a little as he tried to come up with some sort of explanation for his actions.

“Well, I’m a meta,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck cautiously trying to avoid any connections to between his recent actions and this timelines flash. Barry was swimming in uncharted territory with this girl. This timeline already had a flash and didn’t need that from him. All he wanted to do was save this amazing girl from getting hit.

“Thank you,” she said so quietly that Barry almost didn’t hear her. The girl was looking down at the trash covered ground. Barry towered over her. He saw the way her hair fell on the back of her neck.

“What’s your name?” Barry said. She looked up at him through her eyelashes. He regretted asking when he saw how wide her eyes had gotten.

“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N,” she responded. She offered her hand for him to shake which he gladly took.

“I know this sounds really weird after what just happened, but would you maybe want to get a coffee with me? Maybe I’ll be able to explain better what just happened?” Barry said. He watched as she took a moment to look over his face in a gentler manner this time. “I saw you drop your coffee earlier and thought maybe I could get you a replacement.”

“My phone…” she said. Her eyes grew to the size of saucers. He remembered that her phone had been dropped as well and quickly ran back to look for it. When he got back to her not even three second later, he handed her a phone that was barely damaged at all.

“Thank you,” she said. Barry suddenly became worried that his girl was so shocked that she had forgotten all the other words in her vocabulary “So you want to grab that coffee?”

Barry smiled at the more relaxed girl standing with him. Together they walked safely back to Jitters.

While Barry was in flashpoint, He and Y/N had grown really close. They had started dating even. He had been sure that he was in love with her. She knew everything about him, and he knew everything about her. He was truly happy with her. When he had to fix the timeline, and come back to the present, he hadn’t even thought about their history being destroyed. Everything they were was just gone in a moment.

Barry had been crushed when he realized that he no longer knew Y/N, that she no longer knew him. For the following week, he did everything he could to find her and start the process of getting to know her again. Barry specifically went to CC Jitter’s at Y/N’s favorite time of day to see her sitting there reading a book. He was so happy that he finally had this chance again, but it wasn’t the same. He did everything right, but it wasn’t the same.

Barry hit the punching bag so hard and with so much speed that the chains creaked with the strain.

“Barry?” Caitlin called into the large room.

“What, Caitlin?” He nearly yelled at the woman who had come to check on him.

Caitlin jumped at his tone, and for that Barry felt guilty. He looked at Caitlin who just seemed to be concerned. He knew that he shouldn’t have yelled at her. None of what was going on was her fault. If anyone was to blame, it was him. He hadn’t known Y/N before flashpoint, so he didn’t know if she was sick before, but he knew she wasn’t sick in the other timeline. He was worried that his changing the course of time had caused her to get sick just like caused Dante’s death.

“I’m sorry,” Barry said turning his body towards her. He threw one final punch the bag. This one was much weaker than any of the previous ones.

“What happened Barry?” Caitlin said walking towards him. She spoke softly and her eyes were so kind. “You seemed so happy yesterday when you told us you were going to have lunch with Y/N. You never came back. Now you seem…”

“Angry?” Barry said. His voice sharper than a knife. It seemed to cut into Caitlin slightly. She just nodded at the man in front of her.

Barry was out of breath just slightly, but surprisingly there was little sweat on his star labs shirt or his forehead. He seemed loose and careless with himself throwing his weight around like it was nothing. He walked over to where he had set his water bottle against the wall and took a big swig of the cool liquid. He ran his hands over his face before looking back to Caitlin.

“I think I might have killed the girl I love without even knowing,” He said softly.

Caitlin’s eyebrows furrowed as she watched the man before her. His lips were pressed tightly together and his forehead creased. There were tears budding at the corner of his eyes. Barry looked down at the ground trying to hold in his tears. He heard the sound of Caitlin’s heels click louder as she approached him.

She carefully wrapped her arms around Barry pulling him in. He buried his face in her neck and let go of his tears. They slowly rolled down his cheeks. His body shook with the sobs. All the pieces he had been holding together since she had told him, fell away showing Caitlin his cracks.

“Y/N is sick. She has cancer, and I think it’s my fault,” He said. His voice was muffled by Caitlin’s hair, but he was sure that she heard him. Caitlin ran her hand in soothing circles on his back. She understood what he meant by that because he had told her about the differences before and after he created Flashpoint.

“It’s going to be okay, Barry. We are going to figure this out,” she said. She kept repeating herself as he cried into her. Neither of them knew if what she what she was saying had any truth to it, but it did comfort Barry, so she didn’t stop.

Everything was different now. It echoed in Barry’s mind as mulled it over and over again in his head.

Everything was different.

NOT MY GIF

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

260 notes · View notes

ghostlyrick · 7 years

Note

4 the list thing: all of them Or as many as u wanna do

oml ok here we go ppl

1. Are you good at apologizing?

o jeez i hope so

2. Do you prefer your looks or personality?

personality i guess but both is ideal ;)3. Are you confident?

fake it till you make it, homie4. What are you most confident about yourself?

my fashion sense and music taste5. Name a few songs that reminds you of someone, and who it remind you of.

Ramona by beck reminds me of my ex.

6. What is your favourite colour combination?

purples with pinks7. Define your “aesthetic”.

answered this already8. What is sex to you?

gay9. Do you have any kinks? What are they?

answered already10. What are some of your biggest pet peeves?

ppl who post emo shit on facebook, ppl who leave the radio on when theyre not in the room, people who dont say proper goodbyes before leaving11. What’s something that automatically turns you off of other people?

bad hair12. What song always makes you sad/emotional?

hurt by NIN. #freerick13. How many people have you dated? How many of them do you still have feelings for?

hoo boy idk like 6 and i still have feelings for my abuser but yeah it sucks i hate it14. How are you with moving on?

bad15. What’s a philosophy you agree with, but fail to live by?

stop caring what other people think about u and do what u want16. What’s something you don’t like about yourself?

everything tBH17. What’s something positive happening in your life right now?

@thomasyams18. Are you truly able to admit your faults in relationships to yourself?

yup. im clingy and needy af19. Is it important to you to be a good person?

yeah but i dont think i am one20. Are you a good person?

nope21. How could you become a better person?

less manpulative, more cocktail mixing22. Would/have you ever pierced your genitalia?

yeah id love to once i get a dick bc why tf not23. Have you ever been in love? If so, with how many people?

yeah and probably like 324. Do you believe in love at first sight?

nope25. Which social science interests you more; psychology (how the mind effects a person), sociology (how society affects a people) or anthropology (learning about culture)? Why?

sociology or psycology probs but i havent taken any of them26. Have you ever orgasmed?

uh yeah dude27. Have you ever made someone else orgasm?

uh yeah dude28. During sexual interaction, what is the most important thing to you?

that everyones comfortable n happy29. Are you comfortable being sexual with lots of people?

yeah man30. How do you usually get people to be interested in terms of romantic relationships? And sexual relationships? And platonic relationships?

memes.31. What’s your favourite song to sing a long to?

stacys mom32. What’s some “embarrassing” music you listen to?

mindless self indulgence, mcr sometimes33. What are you most snobby/pretentious about?

books to film adaptations34. How do you express sad emotions? And happy emotions?

crying. always. constantly.35. Do you use Skype? Facetime?

yeah i use skype, hmu @junkyarddefect36. How do you feel about phone calls?

nervous37. How do you feel about texting?

fine + good38. What are your thoughts on LDRs?

hard but worth it39. Have you ever cried over a piece of visual art? What was it of? Why do you think it made you cry?

yeah. im an art student and i hate myself ive cried at alot of art lmao40. When and why was the last time you cried?

last night bc i was watching a documentary about david bowie41. What’s something you love that you never do anymore? Why don’t you do it?

playing minecraft, idk i have no one to play it with42. Are you afraid to die?

yeah43. If there were no limits; who and what would you be?

gayer and hotter44. Are you more likely to be sub or dom during sex?

sub!!!45. Describe your fashion sense.

better than yours (;46. Do you have stage fright?

nope47. Did/do you ever put your hand up in class?

yeah a little but im dumb af48. Are you more of an open or closed person?

open49. What’s the worst thing that ever happened to you? And the best?

my abuser, the band AJJ50. Are you a theist? (Not necessarily in the way of “guy in the sky”, maybe just believing in any higher power)

yeah i believe in like, 3rd heaven and stuff i guess. idk, i believe in reiki51. What are your top three places you’d like to travel and why?

nebraska bc im gay, and some kind of cool roadtrip52. What’s something you thought would be really scary/bad, but was actually fine when it happened/you did it?

idk, coke probs lmao53. When you sleep at friends houses, how often do you sleep in their bed?

p much always54. Can you sleep facing someone?

ye55. Do you ever get in slumps? If so; how often, and how long do they usually last for?

my whole life, its called depression my guy56. Do you like being alone?

sometimes57. Are you social?

kinda58. How do you feel about parties?

bad59. Have you ever hosted a party? How did it go?

yeah, and fine60. What question(s) do you love to ask people?

whats their kinks 61. What question(s) do you love being asked?

anything bc i love attention62. Are you confrontational? Does it make you uncomfortable when others are?

yeah, when im passionate about something and when someones being a twat about an important issue. yeah it makes me uncomfortable when ppl r confrontational

#long post #sorry #ask meme #anon #ask

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spicycreativity · 3 years

Text

A Place Where I Can Breathe - Ch 2

Chapter: 2/7 Additional Notes: See Ch 1 for more information. Read on AO3 under "WizardGlick." Formatting/italics errors are holdovers from AO3 that I was too lazy to fix. Chapter Content Warnings: Brief depiction of light dissociation Excerpt: Roman had already transformed the living room: metallic streamers of purple and black stretched across the corners of the ceiling, and shiny balloons spelling out A-N-X-E-I-T-Y hovered above the TV. "Uh, Princey?" Virgil said, tilting his head at them, but Roman wasn't listening. "Don't tell him," Logan advised, shoving down his own annoyance at the error.

Virgil peeled another poster off the wall and laid it down on his bare mattress. Without the sticky tack pinning it flat, it rolled itself back up into a tube shape. Quietly singing along to the music blasting from his speakers, Virgil adjusted it and rolled a purple rubber band down to its center. Then he put it with the rest of his posters, in an open-topped cardboard box exactly identical to the ones he’d been imagining up as necessary. The weight of his newly blank walls bore down on him hard and he chewed absentmindedly at his thumbnail before catching himself. He clenched his hands into fists instead and worried at his lower lip as he surveyed what was left of his room.

It would have been faster and easier to ask Roman for an assist. He could have had Virgil’s entire room moved (and renovated) in less time than it took him to wave his hands. And he would wave his hands, and give a self-aggrandizing little speech, and hold it over Virgil’s head until he found something else to congratulate himself for.

So, no, despite their fledgling alliance, despite the direct invitation, Virgil wouldn’t be asking Roman for favors anytime soon. And besides (not that he would ever admit it out loud), there was something undeniably grounding, something real, about doing the work with his hands. He just hoped his empty room would take the hint and follow him upstairs.

As he worked, he became aware of eyes on him. It was a slow dawning, an uncomfortable tingle in his spine that morphed into a full-body itch. Spite kept him from turning to look, focused on packing away the meager contents of his closet. He knew that Janus would come, and he was determined to not care. Let him face the consequences of his actions for once in his life.

From the doorway, Janus watched. He watched Virgil reverently fold imaginary band tees he would never have the courage to wear. He watched Virgil ignore him. He watched Virgil prepare to forsake the only family he had ever known.

The uneasy stalemate grew more tense by the second until they were both buckling under the weight of words unsaid.

It was Janus who broke first. Where the embers of Virgil's anger could smolder endlessly in his chest, Janus' temper reared up at the slightest provocation and struck with its fangs, and would not be satisfied until the threat was gone. "Tell me you didn't actually buy that little 'family' act."

Virgil's knuckles went white around the Paramore shirt he'd been folding. If Janus had come to patch things up, he was making a mess of it. "There's nothing to buy. They're not liars upstairs." He didn’t need to add ‘unlike here ;’ it went both unsaid and mutually understood.

Janus narrowed his eyes and doubled down in his attempt to make Virgil catch his meaning. "It's awfully sweet that you want to think that, but let's not forget that your precious Patton is the whole reason you're down here with the rejects in the first place."

"Yeah? Well, he’s also the main reason I’m heading up now.” Virgil resumed folding up his shirt. There was no sense in letting Janus upset him, not when it was Virgil who had the upper hand. He had made his decision.

"Yes, and I’m sure he and Roman weren't just being nice to spare their own feelings.”

Virgil was quiet for a long moment, methodically re-folding the shirt and placing it into the box with the others. "Would it kill you to just be happy for me?" he demanded, turning back to his closet without sparing so much as a glance at Janus. He stared at the few remaining shirts without really seeing them, heart hammering against his ribcage. He had been hoping to slip out quietly and let Janus cool down. Despite last night’s tension, he really hadn't intended to burn any bridges. But since Janus was being so generous with the kerosene…

In the doorway, Janus straightened. He dropped his hands to his sides, staring at Virgil like he'd never seen him before. Something uncomfortably like defeat crawled up his spine. "So you really think this is going to end well for you?" It went against his nature to speak plainly; even now the truth metamorphosed painfully on his tongue, becoming a venom-drenched mockery of itself.

Virgil had never liked the process of drawing the truth out of Janus. It always involved effort on one of their parts, and too often Virgil was the one left untangling the knots when Janus was the one who had tied them. He was just about sick of it. So he left the truth raveled up inside Janus' words and grabbed a shirt at random from his closet. "Yeah. I do."

Janus faltered and went still. Virgil could see it out of the corner of his eye, and the sick sense of satisfaction made him smirk. He really was tired of the eternal chess match that came with talking to Janus and it felt good to score a point for himself.

When Janus felt cornered, he struck. But this ? Virgil hadn't cornered him, he'd boxed him in . There was nothing to strike at. Just blank white walls and the chemical odor of lighter fluid.

For a moment, there was no sound but Virgil's music. Virgil imagined another T-shirt to fold. MCR. Long sleeves. Soft jersey under his hands.

Janus knew perfectly well what Virgil wanted from him. But courage wasn't in his function; neither was vulnerability. He stood still in the doorway. No motion but the rise and fall of his chest, the twitch of his irises as he watched Virgil tape up his box of T-shirts. It should have been an easy choice: his pride for Virgil's friendship. But the scales pitched and swung and refused to balance, and Janus was silent.

"Tell me why you came here," Virgil dared him, searching for yet another reason to not look Janus in the eye. He settled for imagining a Sharpie so he could label his boxes.

Janus was silent.

"I know you wanted something."

Silent.

"Say it."

Silent.

"Then go."

Silent.

Janus turned on his heel and walked away. Resentment bloomed in his chest. Virgil had gone for a weak spot on purpose, had set Janus up to lose one of two things he held dear. Let him leave, then. If it turned out to be a mistake, they would find out soon enough. And if it didn't, well…

At least Janus had his pride.

Virgil scoffed at the sight of Janus slinking away like a cat, head high and shoulders back.

Virgil had never expected to lose Janus, but he supposed it did make sense that things would end this way: not with the cheap words he threw around like a high-roller's banknotes, but with a chill and deadly silence.

"Whatever," Virgil said to no one. He picked up one of his boxes and headed for the stairs.

Janus was nowhere to be found; Virgil figured he was probably sulking in his room with the lights off, plucking at threads that would never hold knots.

That, or planning some sort of revenge. Virgil tried not to shudder. After all, there wasn't really anything Janus could do to him, not when Virgil had this much conviction in his decision. Janus preyed on insecurities, driving wedges of doubts into the cracks that already existed in the foundations of long-held beliefs. And Virgil had allowed himself no doubts. Not today. Not about this.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice Remus on the stairs.

Remus had been making no effort to hide, but, realizing that Virgil was going to pass by without noticing him, sprang forward to block his path. "Boo!"

"Fuck!" Virgil flinched and pulled the box in tighter to his chest. He glared at Remus and took in a few deep breaths, leaning against the bannister while he waited for his head to stop spinning. "What was that for?"

"Take a wild guess, Little Boy Boohoo." Remus slapped the top of the box just hard enough to make the contents shift and rattle, rage boiling in his chest. "Y'know, when you said you got Raptured, I didn't think you'd actually go through with it."

"Remus, come on." Sadness ached in the back of Virgil's throat. He hadn't wanted this. For all that Janus and Remus had teased him about spending time upstairs, he hadn't expected this kind of anger from either of them, was still reeling from their unabashed hostility. They were friends . Well. They used to be.

"Cum on what?" Remus asked, leaning in. "Your face? Your tits?" Fire blazed in his eyes and he made no effort to quell it; he wanted Virgil scared . It served him right for picking Roman.

Virgil seemed to read his mind. "You know I'm not choosing them over you guys, I just-- I can be friends with all of you. I can help. ”

"No," Remus said, meaning every word of it. "You can't."

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, forcing down his doubts. "But you guys are the ones making me choose. I-- Look, I'm sure if I told them how much you mean to me--"

"They'd start inviting us up for tea and orgies?" Remus bared his teeth. "Face it, Virgil. They want to change us just like they changed you," he bit the air in front of Virgil's face, "into a toothless little lap dog. And the second you stop playing by their rules, it's back in the dungeon with the rest of us wolves. And you know what wolves get: Dark screens and pens out of ink and knots that won't stay tied."

"Maybe I don't like being a wolf," Virgil said, sticking with the metaphor out of habit. It usually made Remus happy to have his ideas acknowledged. "Maybe I'm changing for my own sake."

Remus sneered at him, aiming to wound. "Patton must give really good head."

"Get out of my way," Virgil said, fury burning cold in his lungs. "I'll be back down soon for the rest of my stuff."

Remus stepped aside, but planted his boot on the railing opposite the wall before Virgil could take so much as a single step. Nothing about Remus could be repressed or contained, not his anger, not his glee, not even his sadness. It escaped now, despite his best efforts to get a leash on it. "I just never thought it would be you."

"What do you mean?" Virgil asked, studying Remus' wistful face. His heart gave a dangerous lurch. "Actually? I don't care. Move."

Remus let his boot drop with a heavy thud, forcing Virgil to step over it. "You're making a mistaaaake," he called after Virgil, pitching his voice up in a shrill sing-song lilt. A parting gift to the traitor.

Virgil winced, but kept walking. If he was making a mistake, at least it was his mistake to make.

At the top of the stairs, he batted at the doorknob until it turned enough to allow him to fall through the door. He kicked it shut behind him and paused to catch his breath.

Then Roman popped up from the couch, sweeping a hand through his hair. "Hey there, 5 Seconds of Bummer."

"Jesus!" Virgil jumped and fell back against the wall, chest aching.

"Careful, don't let Elder Patton hear you say that. What's with the box?" Roman looked Virgil up and down, examining the coal black eyeshadow and the way he cowered against the wall. Whatever he was doing, he seemed unharmed, if a little freaked out. Not that that was unusual.

"I'm moving," Virgil said, only just managing to hold back a sarcastic ' genius .'

"Really?" Roman's smile was so bright it was almost dazzling. "Say no more!" He straightened, puffing out his chest. "Let's see, where should we put you?" He paused, drawing mental pictures. "By Logan, I think. Right across from yours truly.”

Virgil squinted at him, but he realized Roman’s intent a moment too late. "Oh, I don't--"

"Shh." Roman focused on his desired effect, pictured Virgil's room and all its contents moving upstairs. He would have a bright purple door with a black iron door knob. Oh, and a little 'keep out' sign with a skull on it. And a new bedspread with purple patches, to match his hoodie. And of course, he couldn't forget Virgil's actual possessions (whatever they were) right where they were supposed to be. "There!"

Virgil ducked his head and raised his eyebrows, dropping his hands to his sides now that he had no box to hold up. He almost mourned the loss of it, the comforting weight on his chest. "'There'?" he repeated.

Roman beamed at him. "I moved your room for you!" Virgil opened his mouth, Roman assumed to complain about his precious privacy or whatever, so Roman raised a hand to stop him. "Now, now, no need to thank me." He paused, thinking it over, and regretted his choice of words. "No, wait, do."

"Uh, how about I hold off on that until I actually see my room?" Virgil stared expectantly at Roman, who bounced on his toes. "Lead on, Macduff."

"That's not the line and you know it," Roman complained, but he turned to lead Virgil to his room. "It's ' lay on, Macduff,' and--"

"Yeah, yeah," Virgil interrupted, already regretting his teasing. "And then they fight."

"Don't tempt me, " Roman said. Then he winced. "Ah, like, friendly fighting! Between bros! Good, old-fashioned, manly sword fighting between two dudes…" He paused to take a breath, faltering, hoping for a rescue that did not come, "who are friends. Friendly sword dudes." He cleared his throat and repeated, "Friendly sword dudes."

Behind him, Virgil smiled. For all his boasting, Roman really was trying to be more pleasant. Maybe Virgil should try to extend a hand as well. Unfortunately, "Sure," was all he could manage.

He followed Roman across the living room and up another set of stairs until they came upon a long corridor lined on either side with doors. "It's like a hotel," Virgil observed.

"Go in already." Roman nudged Virgil with his hip.

Virgil resisted the urge to smack him, reminding himself that Roman wouldn't know he was just playing. Instead, he shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets and walked down the hallway to his door. "It's purple."

"Oh, good, you're not colorblind."

"Was that a big concern for you?" Virgil didn't wait for a response before pulling the door open and examining his room. Everything seemed fine, from his band posters to his pet spider in its terrarium. Everything aside from the bedspread.

Roman kept glancing between it and Virgil, wiggling in excitement. "Well?"

"Um, yeah." Virgil forced a smile. "It looks nice. Thanks, Princey. I, uh. I like the purple."

"I knew you would!" Roman gave himself a round of applause and pushed past Virgil, throwing himself down on the bed. "Come feel. The purple patches are fleece."

"Okay…" Virgil crossed the room, trying not to look as tense as he felt. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and put his hand down on the fleece, mind frustratingly blank. "Yeah, that's soft."

Roman nodded in satisfaction. "So," he said, "how does it feel?"

"...Soft?" Virgil repeated, flicking his eyes to Roman's face for just a moment.

"Not the comforter." Roman sighed. "Your great escape! You're finally free from Bialysnake and Doom."

Virgil tilted his head. "Not your best work," he said, mostly to avoid answering the question.

"Oh, everyone's a critic." Roman examined his nails. "But come on, doesn't it feel better to know you won't have to deal with those freaks anymore? I can't even imagine how you made it this long, and that's saying a lot for me. Thank goodness you let us rescue you."

Virgil forced back the instinctive wave of anger that Roman would talk about his friends that way. They weren ' t friends anymore. And maybe it would feel good to vent a little. "I'm glad to be gone," Virgil said with conviction, imagining Janus and Remus listening at the door. "It's gonna be really nice not having to deal with all the mind games and, and random tangents and… weird communication problems."

"Go, Virgil!" Roman said, a little surprised at Virgil's candor. "That really must have been Hell for you."

Virgil, as a rule, avoided lying. Even white lies made him feel sick and panicky. But for just one incandescent moment, he lost control of his temper and let the bonfire blaze in his chest and the smoke pour out of his mouth. "Yeah." If he said it out loud, maybe he could make himself believe it. Maybe he could crush the remaining ache of betrayal, the longing for his friends. "It was Hell. I'm not going to miss them at all."

Roman gave a low whistle "I'm glad we got you out of there."

"Lucky me." Virgil rubbed his fingertips along a patch of fleece as guilt, cloying and viscous, lapped at the back of his throat.

It was funny, he thought, reflecting on the look of earnest conviction in Roman's eyes. When Janus said that 3 plus 3 equaled 7, he was getting at something. When Roman said that 3 plus 3 equaled 7, he believed it. That could be a dangerous combination someday. Maybe it was better like this. Now Virgil was in a better position to keep Roman and the others safe from whatever vengeance Janus and Remus might choose to inflict upon them.

"Hey," said Virgil, shaking himself out of his thoughts. "Maybe we should get out of here. Y'know, before you go all--"

"Fright Night?" Roman frowned, bored with the idea. "That's so last episode. Can't you just turn it off?" Almost to himself, he muttered, "A nifty little Roman trick."

"Turn off my anxiety?" Virgil repeated, incredulous.

"No, no, of course not." Roman waved a hand to dismiss the idea. "Just make your room a little less kooky, spooky, and ooky." He snapped his fingers twice.

"No?" said Virgil.

"Let's see." Roman indicated the switch on the wall he had just dreamed up. "Go ahead. Pull the lever, Anxiety!"

Virgil rolled his eyes. "It's not a lever."

"I could make it a lever," Roman said, a touch petulant. "A long one, too, so you can walk into it and jab yourself right in the ribs every time you try to turn the lights on."

"Alright, I get it," Virgil put up his hands placatingly. "I'm sorry I talked bad about your anxiety lightswitch." He got to his feet and flipped the switch, all the while staring expectantly at Roman. "Feel anything?"

"Profoundly unchanged." Roman stood up as well and rocked forward onto his toes. "Ah, well. I guess I wasn't in here long enough to tell the difference. Suppose that's why we leave the nerdy science stuff to the Great Logician."

“Where are the others, anyway?” Virgil asked, longing for an escape from one-on-one conversation. His nerves were already starting to fray.

“I don’t know.” Roman leaned against the wall and fidgeted with one of Virgil’s decorative spiderwebs. “Logan’s probably holed up in his room making a spreadsheet of Thomas’ vitamin deficiencies or something equally as boring.”

“And Patton?”

“I don’t know, man, it’s not like I keep them under surveillance.” Roman rolled his eyes, annoyed with the questioning. "I suppose I should summon them up to say hello." He gave Virgil a sidelong glance.

Virgil shrugged. "I don't really care either way, to be honest. But maybe don't bother them if they're busy "

Roman wasn't listening. "Let's see, probably shouldn't do it in your room… To the hallway!" He bounded out the door leaving Virgil to follow him at a shuffle.

It was fine, Virgil had to keep reminding himself. Roman meant well, and maybe his antics would keep Patton from rolling out the welcome wagon. The thought of special treatment made Virgil's toes curl. Just because he didn't want to be insulted all the time didn't mean he needed to be babie d.

Roman's voice cut through the noise in Virgil's head and he planted his hands on his hips. "You're not listening to me at all, are you?"

Virgil gave a fake smile. "I got caught up in the sound of your voice."

"Hm, well." Roman sniffed, playing the part. "My talents are wasted on buzzkill philistines." He paused. "Buzzkill-istines."

Virgil only made a face, so Roman sighed and brought up his arms to summon Patton and Logan, proclaiming as he did so, "Look who I rescued from the dungeon!"

"Hey," said Virgil, bristling, but the chaos was already underway.

"Yay!" Patton threw his arms out wide. "It's Anxiety!"

"You never say 'yay,' when I come around,” Roman complained.

"Hi, Patton," Virgil said, not wanting to be rude.

Logan chimed in, "Roman, it would be incredibly disruptive if Patton said 'yay' every time you entered a shared space--"

"I didn't ask for a read , you pirated nerd processor. I'm just saying a little appreciation would be nice."

"Anxiety is our guest !"

Patton still had his arms out. Virgil caught his eye. "Was that-- Is that for a hug or…?"

"Only if you want one!" Patton said.

Roman threw his hands up in frustration. "It's like I'm not even here! You never offer me hugs."

"If you are referring to Patton, he hugged you three times yesterday by my count." Logan paused and pushed up his glasses. "Possibly more times than that, if I wasn't present to witness them."

"Aw, Roman, did you want a hug, too? Group hug?"

"I would prefer not to--"

"No, no, that's quite alright."

"Does anybody want a hug? 'Cause my arms are getting tired."

" I don't," Roman said, obviously pouting.

Virgil pressed his fingertips to his forehead, exasperated. Then he stepped away from Roman and let Patton hug him like he obviously wanted to.

It was hard for Virgil to not shudder at the sudden heat and weight on him. With his senses already open and taking in more information than his brain seemed to want to process, touch was an added stressor, more unwanted sensory input.

But it was important to Patton, and his voice was genuine when he said, "Thank you."

"Ugh, enough already!" Roman said, dropping his arms so he could cross them again. "Isn't anyone going to congratulate me for rescuing our dark-and-stormy damsel?"

Virgil seized upon the opportunity to slip out of Patton's arms and step a healthy distance away. "I'm sorry, which part was the rescue? Was it the part where you ambushed me in the living room and took my stuff?"

"Roman, it's not nice to take what doesn't belong to you," Patton said.

"No, Padre. Ugh." Roman groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "I helped him move all his stuff."

"That does explain the new violet variance," Logan said, nodding at Virgil's door.

Roman muttered, "That doesn't make sense; you just wanted an excuse to use alliteration," but it was barely audible under the sound of Patton screeching in delight.

"Uh," said Virgil, wide-eyed. "How long do you think he's gonna go?"

"Three," said Logan, unphased.

"What?"

"Two."

"And one," Roman said.

Patton drew in a deep breath. "Kiddo! You're gonna live with us now?"

"Yep," Virgil said, ducking his head.

"This is so exciting! We have to celebrate!"

"We really don't," Virgil muttered, backing into the wall. The last thing he wanted was--

"A party!" Roman said, driving his fist into his open palm. If he couldn't be the object of adoration, then he could at least be in charge of something.

Virgil sighed, swallowing back a swear. He suddenly longed for the safe familiarity of Janus' gentle taunts and Remus' wild-eyed enthusiasm. He had grown so used to people knowing his limits, to having his needs anticipated and boundaries accounted for.

It crossed his mind to flee, to run back down the stairs into the basement with apologies on his lips. At least his old demons were familiar ones. He knew how to handle it when Remus got too wild or when Janus got sulky and jealous. And the ache, the ache of being so cruel, well, he knew how to ride that out too.

What Virgil did not know how to handle was the rambunctious enthusiasm of three (well, two) optimists who were far too excited about being his friends.

Oh.

Realization and guilt slammed into Virgil's chest, a flying tackle of empathy. All Patton and Roman wanted to do was be his friends, and Virgil had the nerve to be put off by it.

He shook himself and tuned back into the conversation just in time for Roman to address him directly, "And you just have to sit there and look pretty." A beat. "Pretty scary." Patton turned his disapproving gaze on Roman, who was already in the process of trying to extricate his foot from his mouth. "Ah, um, pretty… scarily… pretty . Because it scares us… how pretty you look."

Virgil decided to let that one go as a show of goodwill. "...Thanks."

"Yep," Roman said, utterly failing to stick the landing. "Anyway, enough talk! We have festivities to attend to!"

He sank out, and Patton after him, until it was just Virgil and Logan in the hall.

"I do not understand him," Logan admitted.

Virgil just shook his head, privately wondering if the same placating behavior that worked on Remus would work on Roman too. "Just go with it, I guess."

Logan nodded. "Before we join the others, I did want to tell you: Please do not hesitate to ask if there's something I can help you with."

"Hesitating is the name of my game," Virgil said, misunderstanding.

Logan adjusted his glasses, hiding his confusion behind his hand. "Perhaps that was a poor choice of words. I only meant that--"

It clicked for Virgil. "I get it, Logan. Thank you."

"You are welcome, Anxiety. I believe your presence here will be of benefit to us all." Logan sank out, studiously avoiding eye contact.

Virgil sank out after him, suddenly terrified at the idea of being alone with his thoughts.

Roman had already transformed the living room: metallic streamers of purple and black stretched across the corners of the ceiling, and shiny balloons spelling out A-N-X-E-I-T-Y hovered above the TV.

"Uh, Princey?" Virgil said, tilting his head at them, but Roman wasn't listening.

"Don't tell him," Logan advised, shoving down his own annoyance at the error.

"Just go with it," Virgil repeated, a reminder for the both of them.

"Took you two long enough!" Roman shouted from the kitchen. "Professor Necktie, get in here and help Patton with the measuring cups."

"I got it!" Patton exclaimed. "A third of a cup and a fourth of a cup are pretty much the same thing, right?"

"Oh," said Logan, already in motion. "No."

"What about me?" Virgil asked.

Roman popped his head through the kitchen doorway, nearly knocking into Logan. "I already told you, Sweet Coraline--"

"Da, da, da," Patton chimed in.

"--just sit there and look--"

"Scary."

"Is it Interrupt Roman Day?" Roman threw his head back and rolled his eyes.

"No," said Logan, before realizing the question was rhetorical.

"Wait," said Virgil, "So I'm just supposed to sit by myself in the living room while you guys…" He tried to remember what Roman had said before, but he really hadn't been listening.

"While I bake and Patton tries to drink vanilla extract," Logan said.

There was a sound suspiciously like a small plastic bottle hitting a formica countertop. "Uh, Roman, why don't you keep Virgil company?" Patton suggested. "You know what they say about too many cooks. Or… bakers, I guess."

"What do they say?"

"I don't remember! You'll have to chef back with me later."

Virgil winced. Roman shot him a commiserating look. "Fine, I guess we can both sit and look pretty. Comes naturally to me anyway."

"Great," Virgil said.

"Well, Simple Plan, do you want anything to drink while I'm up?"

"'Simple Plan'?" Virgil repeated, confused. "That one wasn't even a real nickname, you just named an emo band."

"Look, I can't be on all the time." Roman made a face. "Do you want a drink or not?"

"Could I have a coffee?"

"Coffee?" Roman stared at him. "It's 2:00 pm!"

"Oh, so there's a wrong answer?"

"Alright, alright. How do you take it?"

"With milk."

Roman nodded. "How much?"

"What?"

"How much milk?"

"I don't know, I don't measure it out," Virgil tried to keep the incredulous look off his face but couldn't quite manage it. "Just, y'know, with milk."

" How much milk, Virgil?"

"I don't know!" Virgil put up his hands. "Until it's a nice beige color."

"How beige?"

"What do you mean 'how beige'? Beige is beige!"

"Alright, fine," Roman huffed. "But you're not allowed to complain if it's wrong."

"Deal," Virgil said, nodding.

Roman turned to go back in the kitchen and Virgil threw himself down on the couch with a huff. Roman got wound up about the weirdest things.

Unlike Virgil, who only got wound up about normal things, like if the person at the door was really the pizza delivery person, or if they were secretly an assassin sent to kill Thomas.

Reasonable fears.

Virgil ran his hands down his face and sighed. Despite his earlier desire to be alone, and despite the reassuring sounds of controlled chaos from the kitchen, doubt crept into the corners of his mind.

He bounced his leg and tried not to look at the door to the basement. The living room and kitchen were technically common areas, even if the so-called 'Dark' sides usually kept clear of them.

Janus or Remus could burst in at any second and ruin everything. Roman, at least, seemed to be under the impression that Virgil had hated every waking moment as a Dark Side. If he ever found out that they had been friends...

Virgil forced himself to take several deep breaths. Everything would be fine. Roman, Logan, and Patton were his friends , and they wouldn't judge him for how he had acted before.

...Unless they did .

"Coffee!" Roman said, barreling into the living room with far too much confidence for someone holding a full coffee mug.

"Jeeze!" Virgil jumped and clutched at his chest, his pulse hammering against his hands. "Stop doing that!"

"Stop entering rooms?" Roman said sarcastically. He sat down next to Virgil on the couch and set a coffee mug on a mismatched saucer down on the coffee table. "There."

"Thanks," Virgil said. He thought about teasing Roman for having made it the wrong shade of beige, but decided against it. They were still getting used to each other and Virgil didn't know how far he could push without hurting Roman's feelings. "What about you?"

Roman held out his hand and he was suddenly holding a champagne flute full of sparkling water. "Don't you worry about me."

There was a crash from the kitchen, followed by a blithe "oops!" from Patton and a long sigh from Logan.

"How about them?" Virgil asked. "Can I worry about them ?"

Roman waved a hand and sat back. "I guess worrying is your job."

"Yep," said Virgil, glancing again at the basement door.

They fell silent for a moment, but Roman was never one to leave an awkward silence untouched. "So, what do you usually do for fun? Or was it more of a Cinderella situation?"

"You really think I'd take that kind of treatment lying down?" Virgil asked.

"Okay, so, what? Do you practice your eyeshadow for hours on end? Write angsty poetry?"

Virgil sighed, thinking about all the things he couldn't give away. "I mean, I guess I listen to music?"

"That's a great idea!" Roman said, a little too quickly and loudly. He waved his hand at the TV. "Go… Plug your phone into that, make it do the thing."

Virgil got up and began fumbling with the assorted wires at the back of the TV. "Are you sure? It's not exactly party music."

"Well, it's your party." Roman smiled. "You call the shots. And…" He hesitated, embarrassed. "Well, you know. We appreciate you, scary screamo-emo music and all."

After a fair amount of fiddling with the remote and plugging random cords into random sockets, Virgil finally got his phone hooked up to the TV.

"There!" Roman said happily, flashing his teeth again. " Now it's a party!"

Virgil sat back down on the couch and tried to make a pleasant face back. He had hoped that the music would make him feel more at ease, but all it did was bring back painful memories of bass filtering down into the basement, of complaining with Remus and Janus about their upstairs compatriots' taste in music.

Even now, the bass crawled into him and buzzed painfully against his bones, vibrating in his skull. With his heart already racing from the caffeine, the throb in his chest became almost painful. Virgil stared, wide-eyed, at the floor trying to keep his breathing in check. If he could just focus on what Roman was saying…

What was Roman saying? Virgil watched his lips move, but all he could hear was the thrum of the bass. Was this even real?

It took Roman a long moment to realize that Virgil wasn't listening, his attention turned inwards rather than outwards. Realization came with an unpleasant twist of concern in his stomach. Virgil was staring at the floor, his eyeshadow a sickly gray.

All thoughts of irritation and playful pouting fled Roman's mind in an instant. "Uh, hey. You okay?"

Virgil took too long to respond. "...Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He blinked hard, drummed his fingers against his temple. Awareness came back to him, marginally less unpleasant than it had been before. "Do you… do you mind if I turn the music down?" Surely that was no great transgression.

"Sure, be my guest" Roman said, truly ambivalent. He smiled a little and hummed to himself as Virgil fumbled with the remote.

"Hey, kiddos!" Patton stumbled out of the kitchen, Logan's hand firm between his shoulder blades. "Logan says I'm not allowed in the kitchen anymore." He smiled, unbothered, and sandwiched himself between Virgil and Roman on the couch. "Is this okay?" he asked Virgil.

"Yeah," said Virgil, unsure if he meant it. He leaned a little into Patton's side and decided it was okay. More than okay. Where it had overwhelmed him before, the gentle warmth of Patton's proximity now grounded him and calmed him down.

Like…

Like Remus did.

Roman, oblivious to Virgil's inner crisis, tossed his head. "Did you try to eat the dough again?"

"No," Logan called from the kitchen. "He tried to make glitter slime with the egg whites."

Virgil and Roman made twin faces of disgust; Patton only laughed and said, "I was egg-slime-ted to try something new!"

"Oh, no," Roman murmured, drawing one hand down his face.

Virgil raised an eyebrow and said, "Was it at least food grade glitter?"

"No," Logan answered, still out of sight. "It was craft glitter."

" What were you making?" Virgil asked, then realized his mistake. "Uh, before the egg slime."

"Cupcakes," Patton said.

"I already told you that," Roman said.

"Sorry, man." Virgil gave Roman a fake smile. "Sometimes when you start talking, all I can hear is refrigerator noise."

"Funky beets," Patton said, nodding.

Virgil stared at him. "You keep beets in the refrigerator?"

Patton wasn't listening. "Ooh! Brocc-n-roll!"

The conversation dissolved into increasingly dubious vegetable puns, which Virgil avoided contributing to. He was more than content to sit back and watch Roman's and Patton's energies bounce off each other as the conversation grew increasingly absurd.

It was moments like these that made Virgil think, maybe things would be okay after all. Change was scary but Virgil had his friends.

Logan emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later, uncharacteristically ruffled. Flour left chalky marks on his shirt and tie, and glitter clung to his fingers despite all his efforts at the kitchen sink.

"Hi," Virgil said with a lazy wave. "Please stop them."

"What are they doing?" Logan asked. "I stopped listening when they started making puns." He sat down in the chair that sat perpendicular to the couch and looked expectantly at Virgil.

"Still puns," Virgil said. "Endless puns."

"It's fine," Roman said. "We can be done with puns."

"Only if you ask nicely!" Patton said. They all peered at him expectantly. "You said no more puns," he said, confused. "Should I have made one?"

"No need, Patton," Logan said hurriedly.

"Digging the new look, by the way," Virgil said by way of pointing out that Logan was covered in flour.

Logan squinted at him, puzzled, then looked down at himself. "Ah. One of the many hazards of working in a kitchen." He imagined his clothes clean and nodded in satisfaction at the result.

Unable to help himself, Virgil added, "Other hazards include: Setting your stove on fire, setting your self on fire." He paused, thinking. "Ants."

Patton took his cue to counteract Virgil's anxiety. "But if you don't take the risk, then you don't get the reward!"

"Cupcakes!" Roman said with equal enthusiasm.

The oven timer beeped.

Logan frowned. "It hasn't even been two minutes."

"I got impatient," Roman said, and kept going to try to talk his way out of a lecture on hard work. "And besides, don't we all have better things to do than sit around and wait for cupcakes to bake? Such as eating cupcakes?"

"Roman's right," Patton said.

Logan considered this, pushing up his glasses. "I suppose I could use the extra time to get some work done."

"Wow, Teach, you're leaving us just like that?" Virgil said instead of asking Logan to stay.

"Not before cupcakes he's not," Patton said firmly. "Roman?"

"Say no more." Roman made an extravagant hand gesture, and a tray of cooled, perfectly frosted cupcakes appeared on the coffee table.

"I was going to frost them," Logan said. "And I do have to wonder what the point was of having Patton and I bake in the first place."

"Oh, it seemed like a good idea at the time." Roman waved Logan off. "Anyway, Purple Menace, it's your party. You get the first cupcake."

"Thanks." Virgil grabbed one at random before he could start worrying about if there was a right or wrong answer. "So," he said, forcing himself out of his comfort zone, "since it is my party and all… Do you guys think you might want to spend the rest of the day with me? Only if you want to. It's cool if not."

"Of course we will!" Patton said, only just resisting the urge to wrap his arms around Virgil.

"Yeah," Roman said readily, "sure."

They all looked at Logan, who nodded. "If that's what you want."

Virgil looked down to hide his smile.

Virgil kept unusual hours at the best of times, plagued by insomnia and racing thoughts.

Tonight was no different. In fact, tonight was worse. After the day ended and the warmth and comfort of his friends faded away, Virgil found himself alone with his thoughts.

Thoughts that kept straying to Remus and Janus. The reality of their anger at him twisted in his stomach and stoked the fires of rage in his own chest until he was burning with it. Some friends th ey were, turning on him the second he tried to improve his own situation. They knew better than anyone just how much he'd disliked tormenting Thomas and antagonizing the others.

Virgil let out an angry huff and punched the volume button on his headphones. He knew better than to try to go to bed when he was this worked up, so he turned to his tried and true method of drowning out his thoughts: turning up his music until he felt it in his jaw.

It didn't work.

Virgil ripped his headphones off and tossed them away from him, careful even in his anger to not do anything that would cause them to break. He stood and crossed his arms over his chest. It was late enough that everyone else was probably asleep. He could go down to the kitchen and eat shredded cheese straight out of the bag without any questioning eyes on him.

He sank out of his room and popped up in the kitchen so focused on his goal that he didn't even notice Patton standing by the sink.

Patton in turn didn't notice Virgil until they both jumped in fright at the sensation of something in their peripherals.

"Oh!" Patton covered his mouth with his hand and took in a deep breath. "You scared me, kiddo!"

Virgil fell against the fridge, taking in a few deep breaths of his own. "Likewise."

Patton looked Virgil over, raising an eyebrow at Virgil's attire. "Late night?"

"Pretty much always. What about you?"

"I couldn't sleep," Patton said, glancing at Virgil to check in with him before continuing, "I was kinda worried about you."

Virgil shuffled over so he could nudge Patton with his hip. "C'mon, worrying is my job."

"I know," Patton said fondly. "I just… I want you to know that we care about you, and… Well, I just keep thinking about what you probably had to put up with living with Deceit and the Duke, and I'm a little concerned they might, y'know, try something."

"Oh," said Virgil, as a shot of panic rang his body like a bell.

"But don't worry!" Patton said. "We'll keep you safe!"

"Oh, dear." Janus flashed into view between them and looked at them both in turn. "Safe from what? "

"Um," said Patton, blushing up to his ears. "Heya, Deceit."

Janus dipped his chin and fixed Patton with an amused smirk that he had never practiced in his bathroom mirror. "Morality." He leaned back against the counter and waved a hand. "Oh, don't let me interrupt you. Please do tell Anxiety what it is you're going to keep him safe from."

"Ah," said Patton, fidgeting. "Um. It was sort of a private conversation."

"You can trust me." Janus touched his fingertips to his chest, expression open. "Have I ever given you a reason not to?"

"I guess not, no."

"So go ahead." Janus stared Patton down, delighting in his discomfort.

Virgil recovered his wits and only just managed to keep himself from snarling like a dog. "Leave him alone."

"Me?" Janus grinned at Virgil, revealing mismatched canines. "I'm harmless."

A sudden memory flashed through Virgil's mind: He and Janus eavesdropping on their upstairs neighbors. "Wait, were you just waiting by the door for me to show up?"

"No," Janus lied, spitting out the word too quickly. He saw no need whatsoever to let Virgil know that Janus had wanted to check on him and make sure the Lights weren't unduly punishing him for the perceived transgression of having once been 'Dark'. In fact, he'd gone into this with no intention of interacting with Patton at all, but he never could resist the opportunity to make a dramatic entrance.

"Dude." Virgil scoffed, smiling incredulously. "That's so lame."

Janus examined the back of one hand, propping up a facade of cool indifference. "More or less lame than listening to the same My Chemical Romance song 58 times in a row?" Janus teased, sweeping his gaze down Virgil's face. "By your estimate?"

Virgil was about to answer when he noticed Patton staring at him in confusion. He caught hold of his anger again and injected it into his words. "Did you actually want something or did you just come around to try to scare me?"

"This was a common area last time I checked," Janus said, pretending to look around.

Virgil would have liked to have pressed him. For all his scheming and planning, Janus had never mastered the art of the contingency plan. If Virgil taunted him, told him to carry on with his business in the kitchen, Janus would stutter out an excuse, turn tail, and flee.

But there was Patton, watching their rapport with interest and concern, and Virgil couldn't risk handing him any more pieces of the puzzle. Even Patton, who saw the best in everyone, seemed to believe that Janus and Remus had held Virgil hostage all those years. What would he say if he knew the truth?

Virgil took Patton by the hand. "Don't let us stop you, then. Come on, Pat." He sank out, hoping Patton would follow him to his room.

Patton took the hint and rose up by Virgil's door. He looked around uneasily at the spider curtains and the white webbing strung across the walls, but no wave of wild-eyed panic struck his mind. "That's funny."

"Haha," Virgil said, instantly regretting his weak attempt at humor. "Sorry. What's funny?"

"I'm not quite as scared as I was last time," Patton said.

Virgil stared at the purple-plated switch Roman had made earlier. "No way. No way that worked. Ugh, he's going to be insufferable if he finds out." Patton smiled vacantly and nodded. Virgil said , "Don't say anything to Roman, but you should be good to spend time in here with me. I-if you want to."

"Do you want to talk about what just happened?" Patton asked, not moving from the doorway. Even in the absence of blind panic, he could still feel phantom legs crawling across his bare skin if he stared at any one piece of spider decor for too long.

"I don't know," Virgil said, sighing heavily. "Are you okay?"

Patton couldn't help but shudder as he tried to tear his eyes away from Virgil's spider tank. He swallowed down his fear. Virgil needed him. He could be brave if it meant helping Virgil feel better. "Oh, don't worry about me." He forced himself not to think and crossed the room so he could sit next to Virgil on the bed. "How do you feel?"

"I don't know," Virgil said, unable to look Patton in the eye. This was his drama to worry about, not anyone else's. He shouldn't-- couldn't burden Patton with this. Lies danced on the tip of his tongue, so bitter he could almost taste them. He wondered if Janus could sense it, if Janus was laughing at him on the basement stairs. "It's over between us," Virgil said.

"Was it…" Patton hesitated. "I mean, were they… It's just that you're so sweet, and Deceit and the Duke are so scary . And… I mean, Deceit never comes into the kitchen. D'you think he was going to--" Patton broke off with a shudder. " Try something?"

Virgil couldn't even bring himself to protest at the idea that Patton didn't find him scary anymore, awash in nostalgia; half-formed memories of coffee on hazy mornings, reluctant cuddle piles on the couch, bickering for the sake of it, all warming and chilling him at the same time. "Maybe," Virgil said. It wasn't technically a lie, he told himself, just a misdirection. And if it kept Patton safe from Janus' mind games then Virgil would tell a thousand lies, never mind what that said about him. "He can be pretty scary when he wants to be.

"And you're okay?" Patton asked, still concerned. "You still seem pretty shaken up." Virgil was pale and his eyeshadow had gone dangerously dark. Patton wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and never let anything bad happen to him again, his chest ached with it.

"I didn't like how Deceit talked to you," Virgil said, and a burst of anger formed out of the fear for one incandescent moment. Janus had been playing a game with Patton, but it wasn't fair when Patton didn't know the rules. Janus would weave threats and insults into his words but never once speak impolitely or out of turn, and push and goad and tease until he found a breaking point. He had pinned Patton's back against the wall in less than a minute and would have kept toying with him just for the game of it had Virgil not stepped in. Virgil had been the victim of this trick before, in much more lighthearted circumstances. Janus would put words in your mouth and then condemn you for them with the holier-than-thou countenance of a tithe-stealing priest. "He's dangerous to talk to. Promise me you'll come get me if he ever catches you alone, okay?"

"Sure, kiddo." Patton didn't fully understand, but if it was important to Virgil, then it was important to him, too. He held up his pinkie. "Pinkie swear."

"Oh," said Virgil, softening. "We don't have to--"

"It's legally binding," Patton said seriously.

Virgil smiled despite himself and hooked pinkies with Patton. "Okay. Pinkie swear."

Patton drew his hand back and smothered a yawn behind it. "Sorry, kiddo, it's just a little be-yawn-d my bedtime. But I'm happy to stay up with you as long as you need!"

Guilt flooded Virgil's mind, choking out rationality and guiding him toward panic. "Oh, jeeze, I'm sorry. I won't keep you up."

“Aw, it’s okay,” Patton said, not missing the way Virgil’s body tensed up and his breathing quickened. “I’ll stay up with you all night if you want me to. We could even make a blanket fort. Just maybe…” He wiggled in place, thinking of spiders again. “Maybe in the living room or the hall.”

"It's okay, Pat." Virgil stifled a yawn of his own, burying his face in the collar of his hoodie. "Think I'm gonna crash soon, anyway." A small, cruel part of him protested at the idea that he would need special treatment and desperately wanted to throw it back in Patton's face. He wasn't a sweetheart, he wasn't a baby. He didn't need to crawl into a blanket fort with Dad just because he was a little stressed.

Okay, so he was a lot stressed, but he still didn't need coddling. He wasn't Roman .

"Should I go, then?" Patton asked, glancing at the door. He had seen Virgil's face go sour and adjusted his approach accordingly. It went against his nature, against his function, to leave someone upset without doing everything he could to fix it, but he was perceptive enough to grasp that Virgil wanted space.

Virgil nodded and yawned again, the ugliness draining from his face as though it had never been there at all. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Virgil." Patton stood, but hovered in the doorway. "Want me to get your light?"

Virgil kicked off his shoes and nodded. "Sure." Virgil hoped that Roman hadn't shuffled his clothing around too much. He wasn't in the mood to hunt for his pajamas in the dark. "See you in the morning?"

Patton nodded, turned off the light, and left.

#virgil sanders #spicywrites #spicywrites a place where i can breathe

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childofbatterycity · 7 years

Text

my first fanfic..

welp guys this is my first attempt on writing a gerard fanfic.....js I failed English s if my spelling is utter shit feel free to send me that good good judgement...here goes nothing.....

You've been into MCR for a pretty long time after your friend got you into them , you now consider yourself a full blown fan. A few months pass of you reading a fuck load of MCR smut and making scenarios in your head when youre in school/college or just bored in bed of you and Gee or frank, and once or twice got a tad sexual with yourself while lost in those scenarios. Your birthday comes along and your best friend gets you tickets to go see them live, a group of you go. you and two other friends.

The night finally comes and you get all dressed up in the sexiest stuff you own, when in the car on the way to the concert you get super nervous and could feel your stomach go all weird and start to sweat a little. You get to the mosh pit and the show opens "Destroya" one of your favourite songs by them and you go wild, you can feel the bass and the crowd screaming boom in your chest, you feel the heat of the lights and you already smell the sweat and ambition in the air.This is what you have been dreaming of all these months laying in bed or playing them full blast with your friends home alone and playing air guitar, this is where you have longed to be for so long, you just cant believe the man you have fantasised about for months is right infront of you.

The show goes by so quick, they end with "vampire money" and you can feel yourself get a little wet from remembering you get to go behind stage at the end and meet them. Youre so pumped with energy you scream at gee and frank and hold out your hand and as gee says " we came here to fuck" he looks directly at you, smirks and holds your hand for a second before throwing it down and going up to frank and dose that sexy little thing he dose that you have watched over and over again on youtube, you feel yourself getting wet again just from that split second. As the show ends you and your friends rush to stagedoor ready for the meet and greet, now you really feel the nerves kicking in, the door opens and gee is standing behind it in his black skinny jeans, big black boots and sweat drenched t-shirt and red stringy hair " hey! come on in guys" gee said softly while stairing at you he pauses and then says " aren't you the girl who tried to grab my dick?" with a giggle , you suddenly feel yourself go red and remember how close you were to the stage...it totally looked as if you tried to grab his dick. you stutter " Fuck ugh...I wasn't trying to I jus-" " oh youre that girl! ha gee just told me about that" you heard frank come up behind you and you feel his hand brush against your arm and its stays there while he asks " whats your name by the way?" Y/N reply a little calmer now, you can see gee in the corner of your eye get a beer and check you out , you could feel the tension start to build a little. " well happy birthday Y/N!" frank said with a stupid smile on his face while everyone els shouts it after him and ray and gee pull those party confetti popper things and mikey shoots silly string at you and frank . " c'mon baby, tonight you are partying with us" Gee says so smoothly as he hands you a beer. You turn to your friends and they are in conversation with ray and mikey, " there is an after show house party in like an hour if you and your friends wanna come with us?" frank says excitedly , you reply " fuck yeah id love to! how did you guts know it was my birthday?" you ask while laughing, " your friend emailed us" ray said and you run up to them and hug the both of them while all the guys cheered , then you hear " alright you motherfuckers get in the car we have a party to go to" frank shouted, then you all hold up you beers and say "to getting fucked up".

You finally get to the party, and as you all get out of the car and walk to the house, gerard runs up to your side and says in a cocky tone " you know, the guy that's holding this party is known for having the best partys in town? you should feel honered" you reply with " eh I bet I have been to better" just to start a bit of playful back-and-forth. "ohh party animal are we?" he says and before you could answer he looks away at the streetlights and says in an almost seductive whisper " I could tell straight away." he looks back at you with those big hazel bedroom eyes and a small smirk, you shuddered a little and said " oh yeah? how?" with a small giggle " the way you dress is a big giveaway sugar, then there is the glitter in the eyeshadow, instant sign of a drinker to me, then there was the way you were looking at me on stage and how you were eyeing me up in the car" he said, you were taken by surprise and again before you could open your mouth he cuts in with " you really think I didn't see you? oh honey, play fair. at least when I did it to you, I didn't get caught" as he leans in closer to you he whispers in your ear " try harder next time sugar" before walking off to join the boys at the door. youre now completely soaked, you can feel your heart beat through your chest and your legs quiver slightly. you knew tonight was going to be a good one. time went by, beer after beer and random people walking past and dancing with girls you have never met before slipped past. you found yourself sitting inbetween frank and gee trying to talk over the sound of loud music and teenaged screams of excitement from to much alcohol. Frank lights up a cigarette and you watch as the grayish tinted smoke flew out of his mouth gracefully and then dissolved into the air, " want a drag?" he offers while giving the cigarette to you, youre a bit embaressed and say shyly " ugh ive actually never tried one before.." gee takes it out of franks tattoo covered hands and takes it inbetween his lips while keeping dead eyecontact with you, inhales the smoke and you watch as the small ball of fire glows a bit brighter and watch him exhale the aftermath. "here" he says while holding it infront of your lips, you look at him, a little nervous but eeger to impress the redhead. he places it in your mouth and says "now inhale it all sweetie...there we are" you take it down smother than expected and exhale it in his face, just to ad to the sexual tention. frank just stares in awe and sniggers quietly before saying " damn girl, you are a natural". Gee stands up, still keeping your eyes locked, " come with me for a second Y/N? I need another beer." He leads you to a bedroom door , you say " this isn't the kitchen" before he opens the door, pushes you in and you fall on the bed as he locks the door, he grabs you and slams you up against the wall, holding both your hands above your head he says " alright you, the game is over, you wanna play little girl? fine I will fucking play" with an animalistic growl he pushes himself onto you and you colud feel his hard cock press up against your thigh as he grabs your face with one hand, still bounding you hands with the other and kisses you long and hard. his lips were so sofr and tender but he kissed like he meant it, you could taste the beer and smoke on his tounge and you bite his bottom lip hard wich made him groan deeply. As you try to push up against him more he throws you onto the bed and climbs on top of you only to kiss you harder and to grab your dress and bra straps and pull them down fast. he brakes his lips away from yours to rip off your dress,bra and panties while you throw your head back and moan loudly as you feel his tounge gluide up your pussy and circle your clit, you arch your back and moan again and again " oh..fuuck " "aahh" you feel his breathy laughter of pride against your clit wich sends you off the edge. you grab his hair and push his head back down to get more. he slips in his finger, two then he pounds you with his hands as hard as he can while kissing you once again, you moan into his mouth and he trails kisses on your jawline down to your neck, this sends shivers up your spine and you grab hold of his shirt and tear it off and then dig your nails into his soft, pale flesh. this makes him growl louder and wraps his hand around your throat while biting your ear softly. Just as he gets up on his knees to unbuckle his belt and take off his jeans, a knock comes on the door followed by a drunk frank shouting " hey dude if you want ill turn up the music so they cant hear you fuck!" gee laughs and shouts back " good idea, we are gonna be here for a while, keep me and Y/N a few beers too!" you both laugh and before you know it, his hand is grasping your hair and pushing your mouth down further on his hard dick, with each gluide he moans and growls through his teeth " of fuck...Y/N..aahh". you look up at him smirking while dragging your tounge down his length to come right back up again and to tease this head slowly. He aggressively pushes you down, opens your legs and slams into you with power, the feeling of him finally inside you sends you into deep pleasure, moaning and grabbing eachothers hot flesh you start to feel the wave puls through you over and over, you are getting so fucking close and scream " im gonna cum! f-fuck ...ahh!" he growls again, this time with a smile on his face.

He pounds into you harder and harder, faster and faster. you feel him hit all the right spots ,his hand still on your throat he shouts " fuck baby im close...ahhh cum with me ...with me " you nod in reply as he goes faster and faster, his manly groans keeping you wet for him, you feel your walls and legs puls and you both reach the edge together with a loud moan of ultimate pleasure. he slows down gradually then pulls out and collapses next to you, wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest, kisses your head and whispers " now that is a game id love to play again" you feel his breathy laugh against your hair, you smile and eventually fall asleep holding eachother.

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