mabye

Look, we need to talk about this Ok

This wasn’t some happy go luck episode, this wasn’t the sweet cool Starco episode everyone is trying to make it out to be or whatever. This was intense. This kid as been traveling and fighting for 16 years.

Marco traveled to every single dimension,(without sicors), He faced hundreds of monsters, he learned amazing things. He blew out every single flame of every single clone

Marco grew up guys. he grew UP. He built a life for himself. he lived for 16 years alone in the roughness of uncivilisation, with only himself to look out for. Constiantly tracking down clone after clone after clone.  He becomes a warior.

And yet, when he arrives at her doorstep, he doesn’t  attack her, and she doesn’t attack him. Infact, when he arrives, she’s already forming his scissors

She’s content, She’s plaesed. She has accept his work, and delcared  him worthy of the responiblility of having dimensional siccors. 

And marco has a similar reaction as well, he doesn’t immedetly take the scissors, doesn’t blow out her light as soon as possible. No, he sits down, gets comfy. he relaxs and tells his tales to her.

“you barley escaped me on the exploding flames of endor. And when I lost your trail in the mist of the never zone, I thought I’d never find you.”

They know eachother. This isn’t the first time he’s seen her. The REAL her since their first encounter when he was fourteen. They’e meet before, they’ve battled, and ran and talked formed an odd frenship out of their bond.

And then He rises to blows out her flame, and she lets him. She stands there, content as he softley, blows it out

“Not bad for a human. I underestmated you.”

And then, Star bust in….

And of cousre, Marco is happy to see her. He hasn’t seen her in over, and I’ll say it again, 16 years (reminder, normal people go to school for 12 years! First grade to senior. Marco has been working for those things, longs than the normal person goes to school.)

Now, I’m not here to go through this episode slide by slide, so lets move on. Marco finds out he’s only been gone from earth for 8 minutes, he get annoyed, ut then Star encourages him to come back home with her, so that everything can go back to normal.

Here’s the thing guys. Marco has spent the last 16 years matureing, fighting, living, He’s been spending the last 16 years BUILDING A LIFE. he doesn’t want to go back. he likes his life.

He likes the adventure, his sword and his dragon-motercikle pet thingy. The likes the life he’s build for himself here.

And this scares her. She pleads with him. BEGS him even. “But, what about your parents, your freinds….Me?” Star puts Marco in a position where he has to pick between his life, what he likes and her.

And here’s where this show gets really deep. he looks at his pet.

Guys you can feel that stabbing pain in your heart right? Right?  Oh man and then he looks at Hekapoo. This girl he’s chased for 16 years. 

“Don’t look at me, those siccors are yours now…you can come back here, anytime you want.”

So he makes his decision

But before he goes, he bids them goodbye. He asks Hekapoo to look after his pet. His one compainion on the road. And she agrees. 

Then he turns to her. Like when he entered, he greets her like an old freind, because that’s who she is. She’s not someone he resents, She’s some one he trusts. Someone he has faith in and who he know he can depend on.

“Likewise”

I mean, I’m sorry, but have you SEEN the way they’ve been looking at eachother this entire time? Their eyes, relaxed, smiles oh so small.Serriously, go back through the pictures I have here. you’ll see what I meant Mabye I’m crazy, but it almost seems like they’re in love. 

ha hah hah just kidding…sort of.

 Back to buisness.

Look at this. This is her thing. She’s been doing this to him since they first meet. It’s a way she “shows [her] affection” in the words of Toph

It’s what she does. He has something simillar to that as well

“Later H-poo.”

“Don’t call me that!”

They know eachother. They’ve know eachother for 16 years. They’ve been teasing eachother all that time while he’s been chasing her and she’s been slipping through his fingers. I don’t know about you, but that sounds like some wicked love story. 

But it’s not, because she’s some, immotal being and he’s a human and he’s ment to be with Star…That’s fine. I get that but still!

I meanserriously, when Hekapoo  creates siccors, she makes them individually for the owner, and look at marco’s

The blade’s are thick, and kind of resemble a sword, given how that’s the wepon he’s been using all this time, and it’s part of his pasword..but look at the that little flame where the blade conects to the handle? Doesn’t that look like her flame crown?

no, actually, it doesn’t. But it DOES  look like her clone’s crowns. The clone’s he’s been chassing and fighting al these years. She placed a bit of herself in his siscores because she was that important to him. (or at least she was important to his mission)

.

.

.

Ok, Ok, Ok….now here’s 

The most important stuff. 

Marco is back in his 14 year old body. He’s back on earth’s time line, and Star thinks its all fine and dandy…but it’s not.

Marco isn’t the same guys. He’s been gone for 16 years. He’s 30 years old mentally. Watch as he takes in his room, observing it like some alein place.

And he walks over to his computer, almost scared to touch it. These last few years, Marco’s probablby survied off of whatever he could kill or make with his own two hands. This kind of advancement…it might make him feel uncomftorble, like he’s cheating at life. 

“Password..? I don’t remember my password.”

For last 16 years, Marco has  probabbly been sleepin gon rocks, on the ground in caves. watch how catius he is lowering himself onto his bed. After two years, most soilders in the army can’t handle sleeping on beds because they’re “too soft” Imagine how marco feels. I mean, his sandwitch is still warm, as if none of his life had ever happened

This isn’t some crazy Narnia junk where Pete, Edwin, Lucy and Susan half forget what their life was like in narnia when they de-age after walking through the wardrobe. Where they go back to being kids mentally as well, as though their entire adventure was a dream.

NO.

Marco remembers it all. And this is HUGE. The show brodened on that. they showefd how uncomftorble he looked as he stood in his room all alone, because it was essential to show the effects that were left on him. 

This isn’t some happy Starco episode. this isn’t some cool ‘lets drool over adult marco’ episode either. This is some dark, bittersweet life. And you guys need to stop trying to weasle out of these facts.

  • <p> <b>Mom:</b> you need to lose weight<p/><b>8 y/o me:</b> No, I'm fine<p/><b>Mom:</b> you should cut back on the sweets<p/><b>10y/o me:</b> No, I'm grand<p/><b>Mom:</b> you'd look so pretty of you were skinny<p/><b>12 y/o me:</b> MOM! Please stop I dont want to<p/><b>Mom:</b> Fine<p/><b>13 y/o me:</b> Mabye I am fat.<p/><b>Current me:</b> Starts restricting & purging.<p/><b>Mom:</b> You've been losing weight, I wonder what triggered this?<p/></p>

I saw this thing on pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/471189179739124699/: 

*Submission by @kittyreaper

 Imagine Gilbert texting with Alfred, when the conversation unexpectedly derails into Alfred saying, “you know, I never really got that you and Ludwig were brothers. you look nothing alike!”

Gil, of course, complains to Ludwig about this. Ludwig comes up with an interesting solution.

At the Next World Meeting:

Two Germans walk into the room, side-by-side. Their  hair is slicked back, their eyes blue, and their brows stern. The only difference is that one’s a bit shorter than the other.

The rest of the world just kind of stares.

Ludwig, taller, sheepish: I had a, er, cloning accident.

Francis: So… now there are two of you?!

Ludwig (the taller one): It would appear so.

Gilbert spends the rest of the meeting perfectly imitating Ludwig, just to prove a point. No one can tell the difference. It’s freaking amazing.

The Right Way

When John opens his eyes, everything is white and silent.

His first feeling is shock.
Shock over this surreal environment. The sand, the heat, the tanks and the death have disappeared. No screams and no helicopter sounds can be heard. Instead, quiet, friendly voices around him. Birds singing somewhere. Well, outside. Outside where the sun shines. Where there is a daily life. Around him is the smell of disinfectants and mild detergent.

John blinks at the bright light in the room. He realizes he’s in a bed. No narrow, hard cot. It is a large, soft bed. A thick pillow under his head. A blanket pulled up to his chin. It’s warm.

He also notes that he can hardly move. It’s like a heavy weight is pushing him down.
John grunts, and wiggles tentatively with his toes under the blanket. This works very well. But as he tries to lift his head, an unpleasant, throbbing pain passes through his shoulder. At the same time, it occurres to him that he has been shot.
Shot. In Afghanistan.

John lets his head sink back into the pillow and breathes in the cool air in the room.
I was shot …
Pictures before his eyes make him swallow.
Running soldiers, screams, shots, an explosion. A hand on his arm, a whisper, a groan as eyes close forever …
And then the sharp pain as the bullet pierces him. Pain, so much pain, he falls into the sand and he can hear his name. Someones shouting his name …
A moment later it’s all gone.

John knows he’s been taken to a hospital. For the initial treatment. And then. Home.

Home, meaning this hospital.

He sighs, and licks his dry lips. Thirst.
His gaze falls to the side of the wall, where a call button is.
He presses it.
A few minutes later, a young nurse comes into the room. She smiles the certain standard smile, which is so common in a hospital.
“Ah, Dr. Watson, you are awake. Very good. The doctor will want to see your wound soon. Do you need something?”
“Water,” John can only croak with difficulty. And he points his finger vaguely at the bed. “Could you … raise it please?”
“Yes, of course.” The nurse pushes a button on the bed and it slowly lifts. “I’ll bring you water.”
Then she is gone again.

John can see the room better now. And when he looks aside, he sees that he is not alone.
Next to him is another bed. And there is a man in it.
The face half hidden by an oxygen mask.
John can see thick, dark locks. And pale, almost white skin. He judges the man to be in his mid-thirties. He stares at the completely motionless body and swallows. Something is drawing him to this unknown man … something he can not explain. John notes that he is fascinated. Fascinated without really having a reason for it. He shakes his head slightly.

The nurse comes back with a mug and a water bottle.
She pours him water into the mug and John takes it with a still unsteady hand. He drinks, relieved.
Then he says softly, “Who is that?”
The nurse follows his gaze and says with a sad undertone, “Oh, this is Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes. He’s been here for a long time. Almost half a year. He’s in a coma.”
“Ah,” John says, swallowing. Half a year. That’s a long time. “How …?”
“How it happened? He overdosed on cocain. We … well, we can’t ask him, but we think it was a suicide attempt.” She gently shakes her head and takes the empty mug from John. “It’s really a shame. He never gets any visitors. Never. The thought that no one in the world is there for him … Who knows if he will ever wake up again. Perhaps there is simply nothing worth it for … Oye, I talk too much.” She seems a little embarrassed and clears her throat. “If you need anything, just call, ok? The doctor should be here any minute.”
“Thank you. Yes.”
The nurse leaves. John does not look away from the sleeping man in the other bed.

Half a year. No visit.
Jesus.

*
The days pass at a quiet, slow pace, which both soothes and disturbs John.
He is not used to it.
He almost expects to be suddenly torn from the calm routine by a shrill siren. Or suddenly lie back in the hot, bloody sand of the desert.
But of course it doesn’t happen.
Instead, he wakes up around 9 in the morning, receives his breakfast and is examined. The doctor is friendly and passive. Nodding pleased at the sight of John’s wound, while John himself stares at the hole in his shoulder with a growing nausea.
After that, he can only watch TV, or watch Sherlock being fed.
It’s hard to watch.
No reaction comes from the comatose man, when the nurses lift his limbs off the bed to wash him. Turn him to his side. Dress him again.
The motionless body doesn’t resist. It reminds John of a doll. He does not like this thought.
At noon, they bring John food again.
For Sherlock, of course, nothing comes. He is fed artificially.
In the evening, more food. And more TV.
A lot of rest. A little too much, John thinks once, and feels strangely guilty at the thought.
On the third day of this routine, he talks to Sherlock for the first time.
It’s because a James Bond movie is on.
John always liked James Bond.
And that’s what he says.
“This is a good movie. A really good movie. Lots of action. And the women are pretty, the men too,” he says aloud in the room. And laughs. There’s no answer. And he feels a little stupid.

*

After a while, John realizes that he will not get any visitors either.
It’s not really that surprising.
Harry is … well, he doesn’t even know where his sister lives. His mother is dead. And he does not want to see his father. Not that he thinks, his father would want to see him …
Once, he receives a call from the leader of his unit. From Afghanistan. He says something like, “it’s a shame” and “get back on your feet soon”. John doesn’t say much. He only murmurs “Yes, sir” now and then.
His hand is trembling as he holds the phone. A tremor. It hasn’t stopped since he woke up.
He doesn’t get any visitors. Just like Sherlock.
Only the nurses and the doctor enter the room.
“Here we are, huh?” John says to Sherlock while eating his bland soup. “We’re alone together here.”

And then the nightmares start. About the war. About death and pain. About men he could not save. Distorted faces in the dark. Eyes full of despair.
He wakes up in the middle of the night. Heavily breathing. Bathed in sweat.
He moans and sits up with difficulty. Runs a hand over his face.
He looks at Sherlock. Sherlock, who is, as always, motionless in bed. A part of his face lit from the machine that measures his heartbeat.
John swallows. He must … He feels the overwhelming desire to talk to someone. It needs to stop. He can not … Oh, hell, he has no one and it’s not like Sherlock would complain, right?
He clears his throat and begins.

“Well, uh, Sherlock. How do you feel? Um, I hope I didn’t wake you. Sorry, haha, bad joke … I had a nightmare, which is quite obviously, right? Well, uhm, I hope it doesn’t bother you if I just talk a little. Yes. I’ll talk. So make yourself comfortable. Haha.
Sometimes I think I’ve gone the wrong way. I became a doctor because I wanted to help people. And the army … Well, it was just a whim. An idea that me and my friends had. One of them is dead, by the way. Mmh. I … it was not always bad. The training was exhausting though. Sometimes I thought I could not make it. My family was not much help either. My father is an asshole. There is no other word. My sister was thrown out. My mother died. It was all … a mess, you know? Anyway, I’ve been struggling. I wanted to do it. This one thing. And I did it. I’ve become a doctor. I went to Afghanistan and treated soldiers. I’ve seen things that would turn your stomach. Wounds that seemed like death sentences. I’ve looked into hopeless, desperate eyes. Sometimes I saved them. Sometimes I couldn’t.
And the faces of those I could not save, they haunt me now, you know? In my dreams. God. I’m so sorry. I really am … Do you see that? I’m crying. That hasn’t happened for a long time. It seems to make you sentimental when you get a bullet in your shoulder … " 

*

"Thank you for listening to me all the time, Sherlock. All this blabbering must be terrible. I thought about James today. Who that is? Well, good question. We were more than friends. But never more than … no idea. I kissed him. Well. In the desert, watching the sunset. Once. Just once. Do you think that is romantic? Shit, yes. Mabye it is. ”

*
“My middle name is Hamish. I hate it. I mean, who calls their child John Hamish? My father chose my name. There we have it again. This bastard. Hamish. I always avoid telling people that name. So, I guess that makes us mates? Hey, buddy, haha. No. That just sounds wrong. Sorry.”
*
"I can get up today. Great, huh? I feel like an old man. My damn shoulder, my trembling hand … a pretty sad picture I make, huh? ”

“It was not so bad. I mean, I for some reason I’m limping, quite badly, but the fresh air was great. I was down in the park. And imagine, a woman spoke to me. She’s called Mary. She said she’s working here. She is nice. And you know what, I asked her if we could go for a coffee. She said yes. Can I get a ‘well done’? No? All right. ”
*
“Do you know, that you’re pretty? Really, you are. I maybe would have asked you out, if I met you somewhere else before. Oh God, sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I … Maybe I’m just afraid. Because … well. I’ll have to leave here soon, I guess. And I don’t know what to do then …”
*
“Well, that’s it. I … tomorrow I can go. I don’t know exactly where, but I can go. Mmh. I think I’m really scared. Mary said I should do therapy. No idea if that would help. I guess, I can try it. Maybe. Well, I’ll pack my things. You know … you really could wake up to say good-bye to me. It would be nice …”
*
“Surprise! Yes, here I am again. I … I missed you, Sherlock. You’re a good listener, you know? Better than my therapist … So, what happened since I left, tell me, haha.”
*
“I will marry Mary. That’s … yes, that’s good, right? She is … she gives me a certain hold in life. I would not know where else to go. What else could I do? So. We are getting married.”
*
“Oh God. Fuck Hey, Sherlock. I … She’s pregnant. She … she’s really pregnant. Did you hear that? I’m having a baby. I’m going to be a father. I. Can you belive that? No, me neither. I … Oh my God, what am I doing?”
*
“This is not what I wanted, do you hear me Sherlock? That … my God, I can not do that. That’s … That’s not me. Fuck. ”
*
“I love her … Really, I do. I mean, I married her. But … I just do not know what I’m doing. I’m … This is not me. I don’t want a quiet family life in a terraced area. I want … I don’t even really know what I want … But, I hate all of this. I … I thought I was going the right way this time, but that … that’s not what I want. I’m not a family man, Sherlock. ”
*
“You know, Sherlock, you can just wake up once. So … so we could really talk. Because, well … You listen to me here as I talk every day. Aren’t you bored. Jesus. I know it would be a miracle if you woke up. I have … I’ve heard the nurses talking. They’ve given up on you. It would be a miracle. But … I don’t know, maybe you can just make the miracle happen for me? Simply … Oh God, I don’t know what I’m talking about. Good bye, Sherlock. Until tomorrow.”
*
6 weeks later.

“Hello, Dr. Watson. I’m sorry to call you so late, but he … he’s asking for you.”

“Who? Who is asking for me?”

“Sherlock Holmes. The coma patient you have been visiting. He woke up and now he’s asking for you. Very urgently.”

John hurried to the hospital. He doesn’t even notice that he left his cane at home. Until Sherlock points it out. Sherlock, sitting upright in bed, an exhausted, oblique smile on his face.
Sherlock, who says quietly, “Hello, John.”
Sherlock, who steals John’s heart within a second and opens the door to a whole new, completely different story. Who shows John a new way. Which is finally

           the right one. 



This was inspired by this beautiful post of @johnnlocked: AU in which Sherlock is in a coma and John is in the same room.

Corrected by my wonderful beta @bakerstreet-irregular <3

Tags are under the cut. As always, if I forgot you or you want to be tagged in future works, tell me :)

Keep reading

brookevs  asked:

Could you do prompt 1 with peter? Btw I love ur writing❤️

Anon: hi! I love your writing! could you mabye do prompts 1 and 4 with peter? 💫

did sOMEBODY ASK FOR MORE PETER???? I AM HERE TO DELIVER. (thank u so much both of u I’m so happy you enjoy my stuff 💗)

#1 “You’re n-not, um, w-wearing anything under that, are you?”
#4 “Are you trying to turn me on right now or are you really just that oblivious?”

MOVIETHEATERSEXMOVIETHEATERSEXMOVIETHEATERSEX

for this one I was imagining those comfy red leather seats that AMC theaters have (if u ever been to AMC u might know what I’m talkin about). I did my best to push through this brain fart and finish this one, I hope you like it 💞 

Just Be Quiet | One shot

“Are you sure you want to see this?” Peter asked, his brows furrowed as he looked at the poster for the movie his girl had pointed to. He didn’t know this movie even existed, and it didn’t look like anything that would be of interest to her. They’d been dating for months and had plenty of movie nights for him to know what her taste in cinema was like, and it sure as hell wasn’t some fluffy wannabe ‘Notebook’ film.

“Yes,” his girl said, wrapping an arm around his waist. “My friend saw it last week, she said it’s got some pretty…intense scenes.”

Rolling his eyes, he slid a twenty under the window and read off the film title to the cashier.

“Meet me in the theater with popcorn?” she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Sure thing,” he grinned, giving her one quick smooch before heading towards the concession stand.

-

He walked into the theater to see only two other couples in the theater. This movie must be terrible, he thought to himself. She had picked the seats in the very back row, against the wall. She was already propped up comfortably with the footrest out, waiting for him. Careful not to drop their popcorn, he made his way up the steps in the dim theater and plopped down in the seat next to her.

“Got us a large,” he offered her the bucket. “But with you I’m sure it’ll be gone before the previews are over,” he joked.

“You know me so well,” she snickered, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

-

Thirty minutes and half a bucket of popcorn into the movie, she peeked over at Peter from the corner of her eye. Despite the poor quality of the film hew was totally engaged, of course, and didn’t seem to notice when she adjusted herself in her seat and edged closer to him, until she was against her arm rest. Snuggling up as close as she could, she rested her head on his shoulder and felt him give her a light kiss on top of her head.

A few minutes later and she was growing even more restless, and rested her hand on Peter’s leg, drawing circles over the fabric of his jeans with her finger. She paused for a few moments, waiting to see if he had noticed or cared, before taking it a bit further. Glancing up at him, she began slowly rubbing her hand up and down his thigh, getting dangerously close to his dick.

Feeling where she was going with her hand, he snapped out of his concentration on the movie and looked down to see her staring up at him.

“Are you trying to turn me on right now or are you really just that oblivious-” he said before she leaned up and cut him off with a deep kiss. Terrified to draw attention to the two of them, he sat still, feeling her tongue in his mouth as she nearly devoured him. When she finally broke away he stared at her with wide eyes.

“Are you crazy?!” he mouthed to her, to which she bit her lip and carefully slid out of her chair and climbed into his, settling in next to him with one leg propped over his, causing her already short skirt to slide up even more. Trying to save her the embarrassment of flashing anyone who might glance back at them, he grabbed the material and tried to recover her crotch area when she held his hand still over her.

“You’re n-not, um, w-wearing anything under that, are you?” he stammered. Smirking, she pushed his hand underneath her skirt and his fingers slid over her clit. She was already soaking wet for him, and suddenly her begging to see some shitty movie that no one had heard of, on one of the slowest nights of the week, made sense now.

But he didn’t get a chance to pull her into the hallway and confront her about it, before he could utter another word she was unbuttoning his jeans and slipping her hand under his boxers. He gripped the armrest as she wrapped her hand around his length, slowly stroking and preparing him for her.

“A-Are you sure this is a good idea?” he whispered, his voice cracking as her thumb brushed over his slit.

“Relax,” she purred in his ear. “Just be quiet.”

Carefully pulling his jeans down a little further, his cock sprung free from its cloth confinements. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a condom, unwrapping it and sliding it on for Peter before grabbing the armrests and lifting herself off the chair to position herself over him. Peter pressed one hand against her back to hold her steady, positioning the head of his cock against her entrance. She slowly lowered herself down on him, biting her lip to hold back her moaning as she felt him fill her.

Peter’s mouth fell open and his head fell back against the seat, praying to whatever higher power that was above them that he wouldn’t slip a moan and get the both of them banned from the theater forever. She remained still on top of him for a moment, adjusting herself before she held his hands on the armrests, and began slowly rocking her hips.

She started out slow, painfully slow. Just enough for him to feel the smallest bit of friction inside her, but nowhere near enough for him to get off. She focused on carefully moving her hips over him, spreading her legs open a little more to accommodate more of his length and clenching herself around him. Her eyes repeatedly darted between the two couples in the theater, watching for the moment one of them might hear something suspicious and turn around. She wasn’t exactly sure what she’d do if someone saw them, she was only banking on not getting caught.

After many agonizing minutes of incredibly slow thrusting, she felt Peter’s hands gripping her hips. Turning her head to get a look at him, she almost moaned and blew their cover right there. His head was laid back against the plush leather of the seat, eyes closed as he focused on every little movement she made over him. His mouth hung open, the smallest breaths escaping every now and then as he tried to hold his composure, and god he was struggling. She reached back and brushed her hands through his hair and his eyes fluttered open, glassy and silently pleading with her.

Steadying herself on the armrests, she began thrusting a little faster, the heat pooling in her abdomen the moment the friction between them picked up, finally enough movement for both of them to feel something. Peter’s grip on her loosened, his hands rubbing up and down her sides and her head fell back as she felt herself getting closer to her climax. She clenched herself around Peter again and felt him wrap his arms around her, gently pulling her back into the seat with him, his hips beginning to move underneath her.

“Be careful,” she whispered between breaths. 

“Don’t worry, I got you,” he murmured, tugging her earlobe gently with his teeth before he resumed thrusting up into her ever so gently, feeling bolder and reaching down to play with her clit. She slapped her hands over her mouth, immediately looking around to make sure no one had taken notice of them.

“That feel good babe?” his voice rasped in her ear, and she nodded in response, a small whimper rising in her throat.

Minutes later, her orgasm began to overtake her and he felt her walls clamp down on him as her body shuddered against him. He sunk his teeth into her shoulder to stifle his groaning, and she gripped his thighs, her mouth falling open and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to scream. He slowed his thrusting as she finished her orgasm, leaning back into the seat with him. He trailed his hand up and down her forearm as he felt his heartbeat slow back down.

“You sneaky girl,” he mumbled, smiling against her skin.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy that more than the movie,” she chuckled in response, turning her head to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Wanna blow this popsicle stand then and do some more enjoyable things at my place?” he grinned.

“You’re such a dork,” she snorted, sliding off his lap and adjusting her skirt, checking over her shoulder to make sure she didn’t moon anyone. “Let’s get out of here.”

slowwshoww replied to your post “I can’t believe I’ve still got people smugly telling me “oh you’ll…”

it’s because we look roughly 22, so they think we might change our minds by 29 but uh joke’s on you motherfucker! i don’t! want kids!

I do think i look a little younger than 30 but this was a person who knows how old I am!! Either way tho I think maybe part of the problem is the very passive and gentle way I always say “Oh I’m not going to have kids.” I do that out of respect. I should start saying what I really feel, which is “the thought of having children is horrifying to me on a basic and primal level and I feel physically ill every time I try to so much as imagine even hypothetically why I would ever desire parenthood.”

How Many Rings Does It Take? Four, apparently.

Warnings: Little Kids Who Like To Collect Blackmail for Uncle Pat. Also, AP classes ment. Toothrotting fluff amd zombies as well.

Roman was the star everything. Quarterback, pitcher, point guard, hell, he was even the lead in the school play. …s. So, it was kind of hard for Virgil to believe they were still friends. He blamed it on the fact that he played goalie. Him and Patton? That made sense. He and Pat had gymnastics together. (He also stayed after for Pat’s cheer practice with his twin). They had four classes together. AP Chem, AP Physics, AP Math and Art. He and Logan? Again, this made sense. For one, they lived together and were brothers, twin brothers. For two, they were both on the Academic Decathlon as well as chess club. And they had two classes together and lunch. AP Bio and Creative Writing. But he and Roman? They had One (1) class together. That’s it. Just gym. … and hockey practice. And yet? That wonderful, beautiful man still hung out with him. Sometimes he wondered if it was just for the homework help, but then they’d all go out for pizza and arcade games, Princey’s arm around him, placing kisses to his temple whenever either of them won a game. It was one of these special nights when he first asked him. Granted Lo and Pat weren’t there because this was a team celebration. They had just won the state championship. It was a really close game. If he, Virgil, Anxiety as the team and his friends lovingly called him, hadn’t blocked that last shot, then it wouldn’t have gone into sudden death and Roman wouldn’t have been able to set up that winning shot. He was the MVP of the night and Roman /would not/ let him forget it.

“Verge. Verge, baby.” He said, tugging on the other’s sleeve like a child.

“Hold on.” He chuckled as he shot another zombie. “Gimme a sec or I’ll get my brains eaten.”

“We can’t have that! Not our master strategist!” One of their teammates, Mark he thought, shouted as he was dragged away by his art student boyfriend. “Jacob, slow down!” He laughed.

He finally finished the game and ended up on the leaderboard. “What should I put for a three letter name? My initials? Anx?” He asked, not completely turning to his own boyfriend just yet.

“You should put ‘Yes’.”

“Wha- yes? Why would I-” His eyes widened when he looked over, and then down, at him. “Ro..”

“Anxi. Will you marry me?” He asked, pulling his most Charming Grin. Virgil lips quirked up as he typed in three letters. He doubted anyone would ever top his score, honestly.  

“Ask me again when have a real ring, instead of one you got for 10 tickets at Chuck E Cheese.” He grinned. Roman pulled his famous faux offended gasp.

“Okay. One, it was 25 tickets, thank you very much. Two, this is not some garden variety Chuck E. Cheese. This is a homegrown gem! One of a kind place locally owned! And, three, alright.” The Charming Grin was back, “I will.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

It was a couple years later and Virgil still couldn’t believe Roman still.. Loved him. Yeah. Yeah, they loved each other. He was at home, er, in his dorm room, drawing, when his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, brow furrowed.

Princey<3 <3:
11:23 >Anxiiiiiii<
11:23 >I looooofe youuuiiuuu<

… what the hell? Was- Was he drunk?

Me:
11: 24 >Babe.. Are you drunk?<

Princey <3 <3:

11:26 >nooooo<
11:26 >okau<
11:27 >mabye a littlr<
11:28 >hsy<
11:28 >hey*<
11:28 >marry me.<

He couldn’t help but laugh at the picture Roman attached to the demand. It was a picture of Mrs. Little’s wedding ring. Still on her hand, too.

Me:
11:28 >Okay. But you have to get me a real ring first.<
11:28 >And come on, Princey, make it romantic.<
11:29 >Oh, and two more things.<
11:29 >Make sure you aren’t drunk,<
11:29 >And make sure we’re in the same country, okay?<


There were a lot of things Virgil couldn’t believe in his life.

Logan and Pat’s wedding was not one of them. Roman catching the bouquet was not one of them. The ring with the moonstone in the middle, surrounded by jet and spinel and hematite that formed mini, glittering night sky with a full moon on his finger was not (well, the ring itself was not) one of them. Though, the little diamonds thay dotted the sea of black and dark blue were a nice reminder of one of the many things he couldn’t believe. Like…  Roman asking him, once again, to marry him, the day before Virgil himself was going to ask, and having to repeat himself about five times before shouting

“VIRGIL CAN YOU HEAR ME?! I’M ASKING YOU TO MARRY ME BECAUSE I CAN’T WAIT UNTIL OUR ANNIVERSARY DINNER!” Poor guy damn near jumped out of his skin. The song had just ended, so he heard his lover /loud/ and /clear/.

He pulled an earbud out, grinning softly, “Sorry, whawasthat? Didn’t quite hear you, Princey.”

He squinted and repeated himself, again, but this time he didn’t yell.
“I said, will you marry me? I can’t wait until our anniversary dinner to ask.” He open the little velvet box, revealing the ring that was now placed proudly on his finger.

“Can you do me a favor and reach behind that pillow there?” Roman raised an eyebrow and pointed at the couch pillow just behind him, “Yeah, yeah. That one. Just- I think I lost something down there, I’ll answer in a minute this is more important, thank you.” His smile got wider and wider as Roman reached down and picked up the little box. He looked up at Virgil’s shit-eating grin shellshocked. “Well… Open it.” The look on Roman’s face made the aggravating shopping and designing for the ring worth it. One of the many things he did not expect, was how well the rings matched. His beautiful moon and stars and Roman’s gorgeous, if he did say so himself, sun.

Today, he smiled as Roman showed off their son as well as his ring and how it sparkled in the midday sun.

“Look, see. See how this gorgeous Scapolite gem is set in the middle as these diamond studded gold pieces are looped around it, causing a tiny gemstone sun? My husband, over on the bench there? He’s with the Peter’s best friend Missy? We’re babysitting them for the week. Anyways, he’s a big shot designer and he designed it himself.” He could hear him bragging about /him/ now.

“How did you know Mr. Roman was the one?” The little kid next to him asked.

“Oh, well, Missy. I didn’t. See, it’s not really something you know.”

“Oh… Well, how did you know you loved him?”

“…” He took in a breath, thinking about it. “This is going to sound extremely cliché and Roman is never to hear that I said this.” They nodded eagerly. He sighed dreamily. “I had a really bad panic attack and he followed me. He calmed me down and sang to me, really, it was what he always did when this happened. Absolutely nothing was different about it, but..” His gaze went back to Roman, had turned to wave at him, smiling that gorgeous, sunshaming smile of his. He waved back. “Suddenly, it felt like… He was a sun in my dark world.”

“Is that why his ring looks like the sun?”

“It is.” A few moments of silence passed.

“You were right.”

“About?”

“That was really cliché and you’re a total sap.”

“I didn’t say that last-”

“Still true.”

He stuck his tongue out in response. Later that night, Peter and Missy would tell each other the meaning of the rings, they had planned this, and come to the same conclusion.

Peter’s dads were total saps and they were definitely telling Uncle Pat.


For the tsficexchange!
I got @princeyandanxiety !!
Obviously I went with Prinxiety. I figured you’d prefer that, Bells. ((But do tell me if I was wrong))