#askflameprincessforadvice

IT'S HIM, NOT ME. I CAN'T CONTROL THE BUTTNUGGET. 

Marshall woke up and groaned, reaching blindly for Flare who had stayed the night. When he didn't find her, his eyes snapped open. "Where is she..?" He said quietly. He heard a commotion in the living room and he jumped into action. He walked into the living room to see four pups all tugging at the bottom of Flare's dress. "Get off you idiots!" She whisper/screamed at them. They wined and as soon as marshall stepped foot in the room, they turned and ran to him, whimpering and pushing his towards her. He looked up to see a tear stained face and a bag packed. "M-marshall I-" she was cut off by the pained expression on Marshall's face. "F-flare?" He asked cautiously. He slowly advanced towards her and she backed away in tune with his steps. He cocked his head to the side and wore a confused/hurt expression. "W-what's going on?" She looked at him and sighed. "I just... I can't do this anymore. I don't love you marshall." He practically felt his heart snap in two. He wondered if she heard it as much as the world had. He felt everything crashing down into a wave of sadness. "Then... What were all those night by the fire. All those days shooting pixies with fire... All those picnics and banquets. What were all those time you fell asleep in my arms, telling me you loved me and you'd never get sick of saying it?" He chocked on a sob and tears rolled freely down his cheeks. He didn't even care. He looked at her. "W-why?"

the fourth is I CAME IN LIKE A WRECKING BALLL

"A-Ah-! Fl-Flare! That hurt-!" He recoiled from her kiss, backing up. He held his burnt cheek. "That... Hurt... Fire hurts me when I'm not... fire... I forgot..." He muttered, staring at her in confusion. "Thanks, though." Ignitus grinned.

Andrew was in his bunker as per usual when he wasn't protecting royals, looking over his campaign medals. Pripyat, Moscow, ST Petersburg, Washington D.C, Pittsburg, Los Angeles... "Vegas." He sighed, picking up the medal that had the design of a poker chip. "That was an interesting couple of days." // "Jesus, Aspen, do we ALL have to be up here?" The private complained to the squads sniper, Sargeant Reilly Aspen. They were on top of the stratosphere tower, one of the tallest buildings on the Vegas Strip. Aspen was picking off Russians in the streets below, while the rest of the squad froze their asses off. Nevada or not, it was the dead of winter and they were rather high up in the air, so even with their armor, it was rather cold.

"Hello fool, did you mess me?"