#*shakes fist at tumblr search functionality*

[artemisia-black]

Hii!! I love your page and especially your metas. They're so on point. And I look forward to more.

I have a question (since you've already answered how Sirius would be like as a father). How do you think he would be as a husband? Or boyfriend? (overprotective is one thing that comes to my mind) Also, do you think he would lush out his anger and traumas on her? (Unwillingly ofc)

Thanks anon :)

I have already answered this, but can't find it (shakes fist at Tumblr's 'search' function). TBH my answer to this has never evolved so here it is:

When it comes to romance Sirius has two key, and seemingly contradictory traits. First that romance isn't a priority in his life and second that he's incredibly selective about who he gives his romantic attention too.

At a minimum, I think he would need someone of an equal level of attractiveness who can hold boundaries with him. I often say to @ashesandhackles that he needs someone who is a little bit of a dick, and can stand up to him without escalating him (I have a meta about my OC Aeliana , but this opinion applies to my canon/other oc ships for him). So if he did lash out, he would firmly be put in his place (in a loving way). He would need someone who can see his jagged edges, but still loves him despite it and can navigate it in a loving way (especially given how conditional his family's love is).

Moving on to Sirius as a boyfriend/husband, I think that once he's in, he's all in and he would bring his super intense 'ride or die' attitude to anyone he commits too. I can picture him telling someone that he'd walk through hell for them and actually mean it. He would be incredibly loyal, but would rain down hell on anyone that dared to cheat on him.

I don't see him being mushy and saying 'I love you' alot, but he would show his love through actions and being supportive. Similarly to how he never says it to Harry, but leaves him in no doubt of his eternal love (Harry only accepts that Sirius isn't coming back through the veil because Sirius would never ignore him).

I agree that he has a protective streak, but similarly to how I see him being very selective, I think he'd enjoy being the protector of someone who could look after themselves. I can imagine him taking pride in the fact that this terrifying/tough person allows themselves to be vulnerable around him. I don't think he would enjoy a complete damsel in distress situation.

The dark side of his loyalty and protective streak, is jealousy and I can see this being the key stumbling block in any romantic relationship. The type of person Sirius would want to commit to, would be confident enough to not tolerate it and I can see it causing friction. Although I can see him mellowing, once he realises that he's loved.

Overall, I see him being devoted, generous with his time and resources, passionate (with an intense sex drive), affectionate, emotionally vulnerable (behind closed doors), emotionally supportive, and incredibly loyal. But on the darker side, possessive, jealous and maybe a smidge co dependent.

[dasozelotvonnebenan]

I just spent twenty minutes scrolling through my archive in the mobile browser looking for a post that I could not find through the search function despite entering several names and tags that I know are on it. I finally find it, click on the post. It sends me to the login page. Because looking at posts and browsing the archive are okay to do logged out, but not looking at posts from the archive. Anyways I log in. It brings me to the daahboard instead of the post. Going back to the previous page goes to my blog not the archive. *shakes fist at [tumblr]*

[punksrespectpronouns]

turning tumblr posts i like into lil graphics is my favourite pastime 🤩

i couldn't find the source of this one so dm me if you know the source. *shakes fist at tumblrs non-existent search function *

[immersional]

eight - c!wilbur (dream smp)

genre: angst ):

word count: 1454

warnings: blood, character death, explosions, fighting, dream smp election arc & wilbur’s downfall

authors note: uHm so this is my first time ever posting my writing on tumblr… this is genuinely probably the worst thing you’ll ever read so that’s just a preface. also I didn’t know exactly what to put for like - the warnings - so if anyone could help me with those that’d be great! all that aside, i hope u enjoy ): i REALLY recommend listening to eight by sleeping at last whilst reading this! ALSO i didn’t proofread it so if it’s bad or has grammatical errors I am very sorry.

****

I remember the minute,

It was like a switch was flipped - 

“Tommy, I am a slow-burning fuse. I am a long, slow-burning fuse, but I’m telling you now, over the next couple of weeks, I’m gonna be a different man the one Schlatt crossed.” 

Sounds, sounds of joy and celebration, infiltrated my ears as we clambered to the top of the hill and stared down at the very inauguration that we were dismissed from. Although, some may say, less ‘dismissed’ and more ‘chased away by an entire city with fire arrows and netherite swords’. 

Tommy was speaking from his spot beside me, but the words failed to register as I observed the way Niki slid away from the function and began making the journey back to her bakery. The way she furiously wiped at her eyes as she cautiously checked behind her was a painful reminder that she could no longer feel safe in her own country. 

How did this happen? We won the war. We won our freedom. Now we had nothing. 

God that was so long ago, long ago, long ago…

I was little, I was weak and perfectly naive,

And I grew up too quick.

“I know you’re scared, Tommy, I understand you’re scared. And it’s scary! It’s scary Tommy, but you know what? In a time like this, when a man has nothing to lose, do you know what that means? It means we can do what we want.” The laugh that exited my chapped lips was dark; I could tell by the look on Tommy’s face that he was taken aback by my words. 

He stuttered. “Wilbur, I don’t know what you’re trying to say but-”

“Have you not noticed? Everyone who is claiming to be on our side, they’re lying to us! Tubbo?! He’s lying to you! He would drop us the second he realises we’re not in the lead anymore.” 

“No, no! STOP IT!”

It was a mixture of unexpected and expected, the fist that flew across my face. As I fell to the solid concrete floor of the ravine I realised that Tommy was still in denial. He still believed there was a route we could take ending with us regaining L’Manburg and going back to the way things were before Schlatt came into power. 

“You’re being reckless, Wilbur.” It took me a few minutes to focus on the hand reaching out to me, but in a few fleeting moments I was back on my feet with Tommy watching me with a hard stare. “You’re not the man that came in as president.” 

Another dark chuckle. “I told you, Tommy. What did I say to you the night we were exiled from L’Manburg? I said I was a slow-burning fuse, and right now I’m closer than ever to exploding.”

I’m all in, palms out, I’m at your mercy now and I’m ready to begin.

“Do you know what happens to traitors, Tubbo? Nothing good.” 

Tommy was visibly shaking. A crossbow, wielded by Technoblade, was pointed straight at Tubbo’s forehead. One shot, one life lost. 

The button.

Without another thought, my legs began carrying me from the top of the building and down to the mountains behind L’Manburg. Chaos was ensuing behind me, but that was fine. It could all be fixed by the button. The button connected to stacks upon stacks of TNT underneath the country I built from the ground up. 

My fingers clawed urgently at the dirt as sweat began to gather in beads on my forehead; grime and filth began to cover my body as I raked through the mountain in search of the room. Where was the button?

What seemed like hours, but was only minutes, passed by before my arms gave out and I collapsed against the mountainside. It hurt to breathe and the rain began pouring from the sky, battering down on me like a thousand punches. 

I laid there until I heard the distant cries of the citizens of L’Manburg. A L’Manburg that was no longer mine. My unfinished symphony.

And I’ll give all I have, I’ll give my blood, give my sweat - 

An ocean of tears will spill for what is broken. 

Blood coated the floor from where my knees were being cut open by the cobblestone. My breathing was uneven and my nails were leaving deep red indents on my palms. With every sound, sounds of joys and celebration, that filtered down through the walls, I came one step closer to pushing the button. 

Would it even work? Was the TNT even connected anymore? My battered hand hovered sadly over the wooden square. 

“The thing that I built this nation for doesn’t exist anymore. Th-The thing that I worked towards… doesn’t exist anymore. It’s over.”

A gust of wind swept through the room. “What are you doing?” 

I didn’t need to turn my head to know who was behind me. He’d come to persuade me to make the ‘right’ decision, the ‘better’ decision; just like Tommy had endeavoured towards many times before. 

“Do you know what this button is?” My voice was shaky, and it was then I realised my eyes were beginning to cloud and become blurry. “Have you heard the song? On the walls? Have you heard the song. I was just thinking that there was a special place where men could go, but it’s not there anymore. You know?

Footsteps. “It still is there. You just won it back, Wil!” 

“Phil.” I spun around to face him, and by the look in his eyes I saw that I was nothing but the shell of the boy he watched grow up. “I’m always so close to pressing this button, Phil. I’ve been here - like - seven or eight times now.” 

Fireworks began to go off outside, followed by terrified screams and the clanks of swords being unsheathed. They were fighting. Ten minutes ago, they were rejoicing in the face of a new government and now they were trying to kill each other? 

“You fought so hard to get this land back… you fought so hard.” He was pleading, begging at this point to get me to change my mind. Phil was trying so hard to coerce me to leave the room, remove the TNT and go back to the way things were.

Nothing would ever go back to the way things used to be. If nothing changed, then history would just continue to repeat itself. Although I could hear Phil speaking to me, it seemed like the button was speaking louder. Pleading, begging me to press it and end everyone’s suffering once and for all. End my suffering once and for all. 

“Phil…” I turned away from him for the last time. “There was a saying Phil. By a traitor. A traitor who used to be a part of L’Manburg - Eret?” With every word spoken, I felt my throat begin to close up.

 “He had a saying, Phil,” A sharp exhale. “It was never meant to be.”

There was a moment. A moment that I thought it hadn’t worked. Had Tommy or Dream removed the TNT? What if Schlatt had realised and gotten rid of it before he died? 

An incredible amount of thoughts ran across my mind, but they came to a halt when the first piece of TNT went off. As the city I created and once ruled began to detonate, as the bawls of the citizens of L’Manburg increased and became fiercer, I just threw my head back in euphoria. 

The ground shuddered and broke beneath my knees. Phil’s exclamations of horror were heard behind me as the button room was unveiled to the perplexed and panic-stricken faces of old acquaintances, friends and enemies. Tommy’s eyes were wide and full of tears as he gaped at the damage the explosion had done. Niki’s face held an expression of extreme despair whilst she fought to pull a distraught Tubbo away from the massacre. 

As the smoke began to drift up from the rubble, I quickly realised that my job was done. 

‘Phil, kill me. Kill me, Phil.” I pulled out the diamond sword I carried with me and slid it towards the man who’d raised me. “Stab me with this sword, murder me now, kill me. They all want you to, so do it.”

“I- You’re my SON!” 

“Look at how much work went into this.” Ignoring the searing pain from my bloody knees, I stood and gestured towards the broken country. “Look how much time and effort went into this and it’s gone. Do it. Do it.”

Wilbur Soot was slain by Philza

Now you won’t see all that I had to lose,

And all I’ve lost in the fight to protect it.

[star-killer-md]

My Foolish Heart

Requests: 

@worm800 : babe, let's get some kylo fluff in here. KING of minimal and accidental kindness lmao. there's an option at the bottom of fluff prompts that says "writer's choice," so consider this a wildcard. some /suggestions/ i have are from the kiss prompts 7, 26, 25, 44. <3 <3 <3

@obsessionprofessional : I don’t know if you’re still taking requests (thanks, shitty tumblr functions) but may I request Kylo being sweet with the reader after you’ve had a bad day? Thank you!!!! Also please disregard this if your requests aren’t open!

Thank you both so much for requesting and waiting for me to actually write things. I hope you enjoy 💖

Summary: A little companion piece set before the events of DALDOM, one of RC’s very first dreams of Kylo after her promotion. 

Warnings: the set up is angsty cause it’s me, but there’s some fluff at the end, you don’t really need to have read my longer fic to understand, but it might be helpful 

Word Count: 1.5k

It was the yelling that did it. 

That set you reeling and made your heart pound in your ears and your hands shake and your breath rattle in your lungs and— 

And you wanted to put your fist through the top of your desk to relieve some of the pent up adrenaline, but that would mean admitting it got to you. Either way you came out wounded. At this point it was just a matter of what’s more important: your hand or your pride. 

Hux’s voice still bounced around in your skull, bruising neural pathways with the way it echoed. Logically, you understood that sometimes situations were simply irreparable. That there were occasions in your line of work when egos had been too badly damaged or high ranking individuals too personally insulted for you to do any sort of patch job. To be fair, you were most certainly not the one who had shot down multiple allied space crafts during the invasion of a resource rich, outer rim planet killing the son of one very important ambassador in the process, but somehow it ended up on your desk nonetheless. 

And there were not enough credits at your disposal to make up for a dead son. 

You suspected there may not be enough credits in the whole of the galaxy to negate that loss. 

Not that you would know—holodramas can only get you so far in understanding conventional family dynamics—but it seemed a cheap move even as the offer of compensation left your mouth. 

Turns out, you were right. 

The negotiations ended with a severing of ties from the Order and your ass in Hux’s line of fire. Of course it was you on the receiving end of his verbal arsenal seeing as Commander Trigger Happy Ren was conveniently predisposed in the medbay.

How fortunate for him. 

You’d escaped to your office just in time, closed the door and sat and wished you had a pillow so you could scream into it. Because if you screamed, the stinging in your eyes might go away and take the growing knot in your throat with it. 

You weren’t bad at your job, in fact you had just been promoted. 

You thrived in fast paced environments, you could think on your feet and Hux must not believe you’re a complete moron—he did hire you—but you just…

There was nothing you could have done to salvage that meeting. Nothing you could have said or offered, but it felt like there must have been something you missed. 

You wanted to be impressive, needed to be impressive. To whom you weren’t sure, maybe everyone. The look of disgust and disapproval on the General’s face was burned into your eyelids. You simply couldn’t stand the thought of failing. 

This was the only thing you were ever actually good at. 

And you needed to be good at it, because you didn’t have anything else. 

Something wet and shameful dripped from your chin and onto the cold, metal desk. The stream continued until there was a veritable puddle forming, threatening to spill over the edge and soak your uniform trousers. What was it Hux had called you? 

Pathetic. 

Damn if you weren’t just proving him right. 

You thought sourly of Kylo Ren. He’d surely be surrounded by medical droids and basking in the light of his victory, completely unbothered by its consequences. He stood on a pedestal—the hero of the First Order, its strongest weapon, a god in his own right leading you on the path to glory—while you were swallowed up in the shadow he cast. 

Trapped in the dark trail left behind, you carried the weight of massacred planets and dead sons on your shoulders. 

And how dare you falter. 

How dare you be anything but grateful. 

That’s what all your coworkers said when you got this position. What an honor, they said. 

What an honor. 

What an honor it was to work so closely with such powerful men. 

And, gods, you had actually believed that. 

What an honor? 

What a load of shit. 

You sniffed, wiping your face and nose on your jacket sleeve. This wouldn’t be the first time you’d been screwed over, and it most certainly wouldn’t be the last. The least you could do was finish the report quickly. That way it could be sent off to rest in the graveyard of all the Order’s other failed alliances and you could forget it had ever happened. 

Which would give you more time to stew, more time to focus on who was truly at fault here. 

You’d known very little about Commander Ren coming into this position—and while a reluctant part of you was enamored by his strength—the more you learned, the more he enraged you. In fact, you didn’t even know what he looked like behind that ridiculous mask he insisted on wearing at all times, but that mattered very little. 

Your anger did not need a face. 

Swiftly, you typed the report, forwarded it to the appropriate recipients and went directly to your quarters. The shifts would be changing soon and you wanted to escape into sleep for a while. The cafeterias would be open when you woke up anyway. 

Something felt strange as you stripped and slid into your bunk, the hard mattress pressing into your spine. The blankets were thin and scratched painfully at your skin in the low light. Your eyes fell closed somewhat against your will, like it wasn’t quite sleep that pulled you hard into a dark unconsciousness, devoid of thought. But you didn’t have the power to resist it regardless. In seconds the room faded out into a drowsy haze and you surrendered into the comforting oblivion.

*** 

It felt like waking. 

A sort of gradual coming into existence starting from your toes and working up until you could just barely peel your eyes open. 

Your head was spinning in the way it often did when you woke up at your desk expecting to be in bed. That same, strange disorientation flitted about your brain as it registered whatever was laying underneath you was much softer and warmer than your mattress. It rose up and sunk every so often like it was breathing. Maybe it was. Certainly felt that way, considering the cool prickle of moving air on your neck. 

Everything was still black, so you concentrated on the placement of your limbs in space. You were face down. There was something large and solid squeezed between your thighs, what felt like bone under muscle pressing in when you shifted. It felt very much like a body, with arms crushing you to a massive chest, and your head tucked into the crook of his neck. That explained the warmth then. You burrowed deeper into him, breathing in the scent of mint that fanned across your face. 

After a few moments of settling, the body shifted. He dropped his head, grazing the softest, plushest, pair of lips over the shell of your ear. You shivered and his arms tightened around you, eclipsing your body in his. The lips wandered lower, ghosting across your neck and licking a wet stripe down until they reached the joining at your shoulder and nibbled at the skin. 

Like he was tasting you, drinking the tension in your bones. With every press of his lips to your flesh, you went limp and melted into the body below you. 

Long locks of hair brushed your nose as he moved, descending on the other side to suck and bite at the skin. Teeth dug in, stinging as they printed marks across your chest. 

It was so…

Familiar. 

A quiet hum escaped you and was muffled by the broad expanse of torso. That made him still, made him pause, and tilt your head back by the hair. His hand cupped the whole of your skull in his palm. 

So big, so firm. 

So all encompassing. 

You couldn’t see, but you felt eyes on you—searching, though not finding. 

There was breath on your lips, and it wasn’t your own. It was sharp and clean and so close you could taste the warmth of it. The burning inside your chest and eyes was laid to rest under his scrutiny. A hand, with calloused, thick fingers ran along the curve of your jaw, clenching every now and again as though they were accustomed to such a soft touch. Used to more force. A tighter grip, a more violent purpose. 

But not here, and not now. 

You inhaled deeply, stealing some of him and hoarding it deep inside yourself. It felt warm, like his hulking body below you. 

It felt good.

It felt right. 

It felt safe.

It felt like a beginning.

His hand tensed, and tucked you back into him like his ribs might crack open and swallow you whole. By degrees, your awareness faded out. Your limbs lost their physical presence and everything faded into this odd, in between space. This time it was sleep that called. So, calm, content, and willing you followed its call. 

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

[countessofbiscuit]

#dumblr

I am one of those wretched creators for whom the tags often simply cease to function when I have anything worthwhile to post (and yes, I’ve tried toggling ‘hide from search results’ on and off again, along with every other trick in the book). 

I like to think I’m not a slut for notes, but man, it sucks to get next to no exposure because of some tumblr glitch. 

All this to say, I write stuff and until such time as tumblr cares to restore my blog into its mysterious good books, you can find all my fic (Rexsoka, Foxiyo, Bobasoka, Bocody, etc.) on my blog under the tag #biscuit fic (and always on Ao3).

ETA: I love how, of all my tagged posts, tumblr choses to keep this one visible in the tags! (((: <shakes fist at the sky> 

[cutieodonoghue]

dark gray (12/?)

summary: Killian Jones operates a lighthouse in the middle of nowhere, preferring a life of isolation, until one day a woman and a baby wash up on his little island and change his life forever.

read it on: ao3, ff.net

and also catch up on tumblr!

///

Twelve

Killian startles Emma awake before he can do the honors himself. He settles a bowl of breakfast on the nightstand and then sits on the bed.

"What are you- is everything okay?" She has awful morning breath and a voice to match, but she's never been more lovely, with her ratty golden curls and the pillow scars on her cheek.

"Everything's fine," He smiles because he can't help himself. "I made you breakfast." He gestures to the bowl. "Henry's got a bottle, too, in the kitchen."

Emma's expression softens as he explains and she actually smiles back at him. "Oh. Well, thank you, Killian."

He can't help but admire her, even in the way she yawns and rubs the sand out of her eyes. She scoots upright, stretching a bit, and he still doesn't look away, something she notices.

"You okay?"

Embarrassment colors his face and he shakes his head. "I… I was hoping, maybe, tonight we could go on a date."

Emma stares at him with wide eyes. Obviously, she's confused. "A date?"

Killian pulls on a smile to give himself strength and nods his head. "Aye. A date. Tonight."

"How?" Emma asks. "Kinda… alone on an island."

Killian laughs. "I realize." He searches her face. "Just… trust me with the details. What do you say, love?"

Emma holds her mouth open in thought. He'd imagined this would go much simpler and smoother- especially considering their interactions the day and night before. She'd been eager to share about their pasts and just as delighted to share in his personal space.

"I…" She suddenly breaks out in a grin. "Yeah. Okay."

"Good," Killian smiles back. He leans in to kiss her, but thinks better of it, instead kissing her forehead. "I've got to go tend to some things. I'll be back."

Emma's eyes shine bright at him as he steps away from the bed. He glances down at Henry where he lies in the cradle and bobs his head.

"See you in a bit."

Emma laughs at him, a delightful sound, as he continues to step backward to the door. "See you later."

/

As Emma adjusts to the new day, she realizes that Henry's been unusually quiet, based on the schedule she’s known him to keep. 

With a frown, Emma leans over Henry's cradle and finds him sleeping, his chest rising and falling with a little noise escaping his nose. She presses her hand to his forehead and her frown deepens.

He's warm. Much warmer than he was last night.

Emma's heart rate quickens as her mind races. 

What is she supposed to do? He's too little to give medicine to. Is it even a fever? How is she supposed to know for sure?

Worry clenches tight within her chest, very nearly paralyzing her to the point of staying still.

Quickly, she shakes herself out of it. Killian can help.

She folds her arms against her chest and hurries out of the bedroom into the living area of the little house. Killian isn't anywhere to be found, which isn't a surprise. By now, he’ll probably be in the lighthouse.

She steps into a pair of boots and grabs a coat before she frantically hurries outside, a grimace on her lips at the freezing cold air nipping at her nose. She can see her breath in front of her and she thinks the sky looks like another storm. 

To her luck, Killian is just barely at the lighthouse door, so she calls out his name and he spins around, already making his way to her so she doesn't have to do more work than she needs to.

"What's wrong?" he immediately asks worriedly.

Emma shakes her head. "He... Henry's warm. It's not- I don't think it's normal. I'm worried he's sick."

Killian frowns deeply. "Is he still asleep?"

Emma nods. "Yeah."

His concern carries them both back into the house and into the bedroom, where they both look at the sleeping boy.

Killian feels his forehead. He frowns deeper than before and she can tell he's not satisfied with the temperature of their boy. He looks at her after a moment of contemplation.

“I think we should let him rest. When he wakes up we can try and cool him off with a bath."

Emma nods in agreement. "Okay."

She lets out a worried breath, rubbing her hands down her arms to try and soothe herself. Seeing this, Killian pulls his arm around her middle and kisses her temple.

"He's going to be alright, love."

Emma's stomach churns, but she manages a smile at him. "Okay."

He doesn't look convinced. "We won’t let anything happen. Yeah?"

Emma closes her eyes and presses her hands over her face. "You say that, but look at us, Killian. We're nowhere near anyone who could actually help him and he's so small, I-"

"Hey," Killian holds onto her, forcing her to look him in the eye. "Henry will be fine. We're not going to panic, Emma."

Emma nods weakly. "Okay."

Killian drags his hand over his head and clenches his jaw. "I need to go check on something, but I will be right back, love. I promise."

He's so sure of this, but all Emma can envision is a dark, dark future.

Her stomach aches from worrying and she decides to leave the room, lest she disturb Henry's sleep. 

She can’t help but wonder if this is normal. She isn't even related to Henry and she is out of her mind scared.

Emma sits at the table, staring at a single line of dialogue on a page of a book she'd been reading. 

The day had started so optimistically. They were going to have a date, and maybe that would have led to something good between them, but instead… she's worried about Henry.

It doesn't take very long for the front door to open up with its patented squeak. 

Killian enters with a slight smile on his lips. "It's started to snow."

She manages a smile back at him. "Really?"

He nods and steps out of his boots, takes his coat off, and then comes to join her at the table. "I'm afraid it's officially winter."

Emma chuckles at the melancholy in his tone. "Do you like the winter?"

He shrugs. "It isn't a terrible season. Just unruly."

Emma hums. She stares blankly at the book in front of her again.

She realizes suddenly that Killian has no reason to particularly like winter. He doesn't have anyone to share it with. He doesn't come home to hot chocolate and Christmas movies. He doesn't get into any holiday season cheer. 

There are no festivals or lights. No friends to exchange gifts with. No family to wake up to on Christmas morning.

Emma holds her breath as she looks at him. He's so different than anyone else she's ever been with. She can tell he cares. He isn't lacking in that. But he's still a broken man held together by his clever wit.

"Henry will be fine, love."

She blinks a few times at him. "I hope you're right."

/

They work together to get Henry taken care of all day. 

When he wakes up, he's crying, clearly irritated and maybe a little fearful. He's burning up but clearly has chills and he's got a runny nose.

Killian only warms the water up a little and they bathe Henry together.

He isn't his cute bubbly self, though he does find it hilarious when Killian carries him into the living room with his tiny fist in his mouth while Killian pretends to chomp on him dramatically. 

She's carrying Henry's former outfit and a new diaper along with his old one, and when Killian sets him down on the couch, they function like a well-oiled machine as they redress him.

Henry apparently loves the attention, because he keeps relatively quiet the whole time, his eyes bouncing back and forth between them as they work and speak.

After they change him, he becomes fussy and tired, so Emma holds him and Killian sings until he eventually falls asleep. He's still warm, but not as warm as he had been earlier, so Emma puts him in his little bed and goes to sit by Killian on the couch.

He is comforting in this situation, with his kind voice and his fingers that lace so perfectly with hers. He presses his lips to her head and she rests her cheek against his shoulder.

"What do you think it is?" she asks, voice small. 

His hand strokes at her forearm. It's the most calm she's felt since she woke up this morning.

"Dunno, love," he sighs. "I'd say the flu, but I'm not sure that the symptoms are the same in babies."

She hums. "Could be the flu." She narrows her eyes and gnaws at her lip. They sit in silence for a few moments. "Don't you have stuff to do?"

He sighs. "Aye. But this is more important."

Emma dips her brow, sitting up so she can see him. "He's asleep, Killian. There's not much he can do asleep."

He nods. "But you're very much awake and I know you're taking this hard, so you need me to stay here with you. Keep you company."

Emma's expression softens and she studies his eyes. "Oh."

He smiles gently, lifting his hand to stroke back her hair. "Believe it or not, not all men are arrogant assholes intending to harm you."

Emma has to laugh a little, pulling out a smile from him.

And then realization and memories set in and she feels tears in her eyes. She is suddenly weakened by her past; suddenly thrust into the whole reason she shouldn't be with him in the first place.

She can't stay here. She needs to go home.

Killian is a lone wolf. He won't ever want to leave his work for her, his home for her. He won't ever want to sacrifice this so that he can be with her in Storybrooke, because that's just the kind of man he is. He has his own world and she has hers.

She doesn't blame him for that. She does blame herself for ever collapsing into this relationship. She feels comfortable in his arms. She delights in his laughter and his smiles. He completes the parts of her that hurt, but maybe that's the worst part.

She allows herself these last few days, because soon, they'll be parting ways, and right now, her little boy is sick and the only other person in the world who understands how that feels is holding her hand.

/

Killian’s heart throbs in his throat while he stands at his desk in the lighthouse. He presses his finger against the switch to the radio. The light flickers on.

Clenching his jaw, he fidgets with the settings until he’s satisfied.

There was only one way to find out if all of his tinkering actually worked.

The crackle of the airwaves gives him hope, but when he actually gets a reply to his call, he closes his eyes tight and a breath of air escapes his lungs in relief.

"Mister Smee, it's so good to hear your voice."

"We were going to come check on you, Jones," Smee says with worry. "What happened out there?"

Killian hesitates for a few moments before pressing the call button and speaking. "Radio troubles. Listen… a woman and an infant washed up onto the island a few weeks ago. The baby's fallen ill. I need help as soon as possible."

For a beat after releasing the button, he waits in silence.

"Emma Nolan?"

Killian manages a small smile and nods. His fingers tighten around the receiver. He clears his throat, forcing himself to respond. "Aye. That's her."

"She's all over the news. Her parents have been looking. It's good to hear she's alright."

Killian doesn't respond for a moment. While he couldn’t say for sure that Emma was entirely healed, she was definitely better off to a certain degree. 

"You can get a message to her parents that she's eager to go home to them."

Smee laughs into the radio. "Can do, Jones. I'll be on my way at first light. Wouldn’t be a clean rescue if I came during the storm tonight."

Knowing help is on the way gives him some peace. Now if they can just make it through the night...

"That'll do fine. Thank you, Smee."

/

Emma sits up next to Henry on the floor of the bedroom. 

She hasn't really eaten all day and she's exhausted because it's getting close to midnight, but she needs to watch him. She needs him to be alright.

"Emma?" Killian's voice pulls her from her half-dazed thought. She looks up. He's standing in the doorway with a concerned look in his eyes. "I've made something to eat. If you're interested."

While she’d like to continue to sit on the floor with her legs tingling and her stomach grumbling, she knows she needs a break from watching Henry sleep. 

"Okay."

When she reaches the kitchen, she finds the table set for a romantic dinner for two, a candle in the middle of it all.

Emma turns to Killian, an unasked question on her lips, and he shrugs. "You said you'd go on a date with me."

She has to hide her laughter as he pulls out her chair. When she sits down across from him, he gestures to her bowl.

"Tonight, we'll be dining on stew and bread. An island specialty."

They eat in silence for a few moments, with the exception of a romantic instrumental playing in the background. 

She has to admit, it's a sweet gesture to get her mind off of Henry and what could possibly go wrong.

With a soft sigh, she looks up at him and finds he's staring back at her, nervous.

"So, what have you been up to?"

Killian shifts in his chair and shakes his head. "Not much." He forces a smile. She can tell because it stays at his lips and travels no further. "Been thinking about what a date between us would look like mostly."

Emma scoffs and shakes her head. "Yeah, well, it probably shouldn't look like this."

"Why not?"

Emma shrugs. "It's late at night and I'm… only thinking about Henry. And about how much I want to go home." She sets her spoon down in her bowl and covers her face with her hands. "God, I'm sorry, Killian, I'm really sorry, but I'm just… we can't keep doing this."

"What?"

She removes her hands and her shoulders sink, her heart feeling heavy. "We're playing house."

He immediately stands up, going around the table to kneel beside her chair. He takes her hand and searches her eyes.

"I fixed the radio," he says. Emma's heart jumps in her chest. "So that you can go back home and Henry can get the help he needs, if he needs it."

"You…" Emma struggles to keep the tears from her eyes. "You fixed the radio?"

Killian nods. "Aye." He searches her eyes. "Your parents have been looking for you."

It's all so overwhelming. Emma can't stop the tears from coming and she ends up releasing a harsh breath as she begins trembling just slightly.

"I'm going home?" she asks in a shaky voice.

"Aye. You're going home, love. You and Henry both.” Killian smiles at her. “In the morning, a boat will be here and can take you back to the mainland." He searches her eyes, shaking his head slightly. "And from there, you can hop on a plane home."

He strokes the back of her hand with his thumb.

In all of her excitement, she feels a bittersweet sadness weigh on her chest. She shakes her head. "You're not coming with us?"

For a moment, he just stares at her. He swallows and a smile flinches at his lips. "I… wasn't sure if you'd want such a thing."

Emma shakes her head and sniffles as she catches another tear with her knuckles. "I want you to be happy. If that's here or there…"

Nervously, she stops herself. 

There's a chance he'll say no, that he wants to stay here, and she'd understand, but now that she's certainly going home with Henry in tow, she feels nothing but joy and that joy is tampered knowing who he was before she came into his life.

Killian averts his gaze from her for what feels like an eternity.

She doubts herself and their bond, ashamed that she’d even ask if he wants to join her if he’s this uncertain about it.

And then, he meets her eyes with the gentlest of smiles. 

"You and Henry make me happier than I've been in a long time." Her heart swells at the admission and she feels a hot tear slip down the side of her face. She wipes at it hurriedly. "I'll stay with you. If you'll have me, that is."

She can't help but smile. "Of course I will."

[sharkyboye]

I am starting a blog for people looking to shop commissions! posts will be tagged for media (digital, traditional, watercolor, etc), type (human, anthro, dnd, mech, etc), level (linework, sketch, painting, flat color, etc), size (portrait, full body, illustration, etc), payment type (paypal, ko fi, etc), and month which I reblogged (to ensure recency/still open)

granted the search function is working (tumblr i shake my fist at u), this should help shoppers find what they are looking for! feel free to submit your tumblr post for your commissions, or someone else's commissions!

find the blog here!

[johnmurphysreddit]

Per prompt list, there's +/- 850 prompts w/a week left of KM. Huge amount for a slow hiatus! Counting ALL fills so far it works out to 58% being B/C. If more non B/C writers participate, the numbers will change. It's one of the only fandom events open to everyone & every ship w/o a bunch of storylines you have to include. It's no one's 'space' unless rare pair creators choose not to participate. As a rare pair reader, I wish more creators would get involved. Fandom needs content to survive!

I thought about ignoring this entirely but decided to err on the side of you actually having good intentions. I mean, yes, it is nice that there’s something going on during the hiatus and there’s a lot going on over there, but let’s torture a metaphor for a minute shall we?

There’s a party going on right now, 60′s themed, and I told my followers I was going.  I told them that according to the invitation 60s didn’t just mean drugs and Woodstock and it looked like a good time.  And within the first 20 minutes of arriving the sorority girls were shit talking the art department. (Search the prompt list for Echo or look at the back and forth of prompts in the low 20s of page numbers.  That is some unnecessary nonsense.)

Sigh. Shrug. Whatever. Not all sorority girls.  

So I went.  And it turns out that while the yard (AO3) is technically included in the party they lock the door.  That that’s the place where rarepair shippers can safely connect with people who share their interests isn’t part of the host’s calculations.  I mean, fine, it’s their party and they set the rules but no.  And while you can go outside of the themes of woodstock and drugs, if you’re there to discuss the Vietnam War, the assassinations of JFK and MLK, African independence, or the evolution of the Beatles you’re going to be pretty lonely.  There are other places with better company for your particular interests.  

And by your own count 3 in 5 attendees are the aforementioned sorority girls. Not all sorority girls! but there’s also no compelling reason for me to be in this space that not only doesn’t interest me but gives me hives while someone occasionally stabs me with a cocktail umbrella. 

And since I told people to go there and that I was going I felt obligated to tell them that there was a disparity between who was invited and who showed up.  (3 in 5 sorority girls) and that I wasn’t staying and why. 

Let’s stop torturing the metaphor and instead go through the extensive list of ships that get queued or reblogged on my blog.  I didn’t put my post about why I’m out of the KM in the tag, so anyone who saw it follows me, knows what I’m into, and presumably likes at least some of it, too.  

Literally anything with Nyko or Indra or Spacekru - 0 fills

Murphamy - 0 fills

Becho - 0 fills

Recho - 0 fills

Recho 2 (that’s Ryker x Echo, yes it’s crackship, I don’t care) - 0 fills

Bechophy - 0 fills

Echophy - 0 fills

Memori - 0 fills

Ramori - 0 fills

Linctavia - 0 fills

Nytavia - 0 fills

Echtavia (you guys are slowly converting me) - 0 fills

Lincaven (they’d have been terrible for the plot but the functionality got me hng) – 0 fills

So, yeah, none of the things people look for from me are in a place I recommended to them.  Sorry y’all.

I was going to look up prompts, too, but tbh I’m just not in the mood for a whole bunch of “Echo is evil incarnate so Bellamy cheats on her then he and Clarke torture and murder her then have soulmate sex on top of her mutilated corpse.”

I appreciate the inclusive spirit of the hosters, but I’ve got better places to expend my energy than wading through a bunch of stuff that turns me off so I can get to exactly none of the stuff I truly enjoy.  There’s some Murphy x Raven and Clexa bits that I might put out as links once the event is over, but neither of those are in my top ten list, so thanks but I’m hard out.   

If anyone else wants to participate go ahead.  No one is stopping you.  For me, nah. And this really is my last post on the KM and it’s not going in the tag because this is between me and the couple hundred people who follow me (7 of whom are active! Hello fellow kids!) 

Final note for my rare pair shippers since you mentioned you are one: don’t make the mistake I did yesterday and put links in your OP.  I made up that puppy fic rec list yesterday and included links to the fics and Tumblr (shakes fist at sky) didn’t include it in the tag because of the links.  Grrr.  Off to see if I can edit it. 

[sayijo]

A/N: Oh my god I finally finished. Also, @ninjamelissajulien asked me to tag, so, here you go!

Words: Around 3.6k

Summary: Cryptor falls into a frozen lake and nearly drowns.

Warnings: Uhhh like one swear word?

Additional Notes: Uhhhh Tumblr formatting on mobile might be weird

“We’re lost.” Kai grumbled, his voice barely audible. All of them trekked through the snow. The white material was halfway up to their knees, slowing them down by a considerable amount. The sky was a dark grey (and getting darker by the minute), and the wind was howling, sending pellets of snow and hail to rain upon them. He hugged his red thick jacket close to his chest, small flames of fire crackling from in his hair as he attempted to keep himself warm. His loose pants whipped around in the sharp air, and his hair kept falling in front of his eyes, obstructing his vision. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were red from the cold.

They had been visiting Zane’s home in Birchwood forest, before making their way back to the Bounty upon seeing the approaching storm. It was no use. The blizzard had overtaken them after merely five minutes of walking. The wind was deafening and the snow was blinding. “No, we’re not.” Zane answered him, firmly. He stood in the front of the group, alongside Cole, attempting to lead the way back home. He was dressed in his traditional ninja gi, the white fabric basically blending in with the environment, completely unaffected by the cold. His dark grey synthetic hair swayed in the wind, and his bright blue mismatched cyan eyes cut through the darkening sky.

“It’s just been a while since I’ve been back.” Zane continued, his voice calm and reassuring. “I’ll be able to figure this out soon. The falling snow just makes everything look different.”

“Gotta keep moving.” Cole spoke afterwards. The rest of the ninja let out a multitude of annoyed and frustrated groans but followed after the ice and earth ninja regardless. The snow crunched from underneath their feet, their tracks almost immediately being covered by the snowfall. The snow had now fallen all the way up to their knees, forcing them all to struggle against the force of all the packed ice. Every five seconds the wind would die down, before starting back up just as strong as it had been before, blowing snow and ice pellets into their faces. “I’m gonna get frostbite!” Jay shrieked from somewhere behind Zane. He hopped around from side to side, trying to keep warm, groaning internally at the fact that snow was beginning to fall into his boots. He held a phone in front of him, trying to look for a signal so they could contact the Bounty. Frost was beginning to form on his eyelashes, making his eyelids stick together every time he blinked. Zane turned around and looked at him. There was a pause before he shook his head. “No.” He stated. “Your temperatures are at safe levels. For now. No risk of frostbite.” He then proceeded to turn around and started walking once more. Jay inhaled sharply and looked like he wanted to argue, but he ended up biting his lower lip and keeping quiet. He started walking again along with the rest of the crew.

It got silent. It was about 30 minutes of complete agony before someone spoke up once again. “We’re going in circles.” The rest of the crew turned to face the speaker. Cryptor. He looked miserable. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his jacket, his chin slightly tilted downwards into his chest. The hood of the pullover sweater underneath the black leather hung loosely over his head. The red scarf was pulled over his mouth and nose. His glowing red eyes were dull. “How do you know that?” Kai raised a brow, slowing down his steps so that he could keep in pace with the nindroid. Cryptor had decided to lag behind. “We’ve passed that birch tree three times already.” Cryptor took his hand out of the pocket before gesturing to a skinny white tree about five meters to their right. The trunk basically bent from the pressure of the wind, looking like it was ready to snap. “It’s a forest. Every tree pretty much looks the same. How can you be so sure?” Kai countered, rolling his eyes. He raised a hand to wipe the hair from his face and winced when he brushed his hand roughly against the two studs pierced above his left eyebrow. “Yeah well, you’re not a nindroid, Kai.” Cryptor retorted, narrowing his eye. The fire ninja blinked for a while before he turned his attention back to Cryptor. The wind howled, seemingly cackling as if it knew what was about to come. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Kai demanded. Everyone else in the group seemed to pick up on their conversation and looked at the two uneasily. “It means exactly what it’s supposed to mean.” “Oh, what, am I—“ “Anyways, Zane, we need to start heading in another direction.” Cryptor glanced up at the ice ninja leading the group, cutting off the fire ninja before he could get any more words in. Kai looked like he wanted to slap someone. Smoke was probably coming out of his ears. It was beginning to waft out of his nostrils. “Why don’t you lead the way, tin can?” Kai snapped and growled after letting in a sharp breath, and now everyone had completely stopped walking. They stood awkwardly off to the side, unsure of whether to interrupt what was going on. “You know Kai, I’d love to. But since it’s so cold, my navigation has gone hazy.”

“Really?” Kai spat in the most mocking tone he could muster. He threw his head back slightly and laughed, his lips parting to reveal his teeth. “You think it’s okay to tell us we’ve been going the wrong way even though you don’t even know yourself?” “Well, at least I’m helping with the situation. What have you done, huh? All you’ve done is complain. Do you really have nothing else to say?” Cryptor immediately countered back, his entire figure going rigid and his eyes burning a brighter red. Everyone else stiffened up, already knowing that this was going to end badly for all of them “You guys...” Cole asked tentatively, a hint of urgency bleeding in his tone. The wind raged like a pack of hungry wolves, drowning out his voice to a point where it merely sounded like a passing whisper in the breeze. It seemed like the two barely even heard him.

“Excuse me?! I’m not helping? Take a good look at yourself! If you could actually function we’d be able to get out of here faster!” Kai snapped, raising his voice above the winds. Everyone winced, before Jay had to wave his hands madly in an effort to signal Kai to keep quiet.

“Kai, shut up for once in your goddamn life, would you? Every time you talk I get a splitting headache.” Cryptor snarled, baring his teeth from underneath his scarf. He growled a bit, glaring daggers into the fire ninja’s soul.

“Oh look at who’s talking now! I should shut up? Ever looked in a mirror lately? Keep quiet. If you can’t help, then maybe don’t talk at all.” Kai hissed, shoving the nindroid rather roughly. Cryptor stumbled a bit, before glared at Kai, looking angry enough to kill.

“Kai, you—”

“And what’s with the ‘I’m not a nindroid’ stuff, huh? Get off your goddamn high horse.” Kai growled, crossing his arms. Cryptor blinked for a while, before his eyebrow creased in complete fury.

“Okay!” Cole cried out, shaking his hands in an effort to defuse the situation. He had heard enough, and he stormed towards them, planting himself between the two. He reached out and gripped Kai’s left shoulder, and his other hand went to Cryptor’s right.

“We’re all just tired, okay? Let’s put our heads together and think, alright?”

“Not with him.” Cryptor looked off into the distance.

“Yeah, gonna have to agree with you there.” Kai smirked, fixing a glare at the nindroid, who returned the look. Both of them made a move for each other, hands curled into fists, before Cole had locked his elbows to grip them into place. He shook his head, as the crew resumed walking. He dropped his arms but stood between the two, acting as a wall.

Cryptor lagged behind them again, slowing down his pace so that everyone else passed him. He raised an arm to shield his face once the wind picked up. Kai glanced back at him, before he grumbled and began to slow down his trot as well. Cole, however, planted two hands on his back and began to push Kai forward, urging the fire ninja to speed up.

“How’s that signal searching going?” Cole leaned over Jay’s shoulder, looking down at the phone in the blue ninja’s hands. Jay grumbled something unintelligible, his fingers shaking from the frigid temperatures. He had made the mistake of wearing fingerless gloves, and he was absolutely sure his fingers were going to end up being frostbitten.

“Ugh, no luck. I’m telling you, Cole, unless we find a way out of the storm, there’s absolutely no way we’re getting a signal out here.” He stood up on his toes, stuck the phone into the air and waved it around frantically for a bit, as the slight height difference would help their situation.

Nothing.

“We have to keep moving.” Zane muttered from ahead of them. It was difficult to focus on his form, as the raging winds and the snow obstructed their sight to a point where it looked like there was white static flashing across their vision.

“Easy for you to say.” Cole rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

Another five minutes passed in silence.

“Shouldn’t we have Cryptor help Zane out? I mean, he does have a navigation system in place, right? Like, I know it’s scrambled, but, better something than nothing, right?” Jay suggested, as if he had just built the courage to speak up. He nervously glanced over to where Kai trudged through the snow.

“Whatever.” Kai shrugged.

“Hey!” Jay called over his shoulder, before he turned to look behind the entire group. “We need you up fr…”

There was no one there.

oOoOoOo

Cryptor walked through the storm. The wind whipped and pulled at his dark clothing, but it didn’t matter. He had his left hand pulling at his hood, preventing the wind from pulling it off his head. He squinted as he attempted to see through the blizzard. His night vision clicked on, bathing his surroundings in a tint of green.

“If you could actually function we’d be able to get out of here faster.” He muttered to himself from underneath his breath, the corners of his mouth curling downwards to form an ugly scowl. His left hand gripped his hood so harshly he was sure he’d end up puncturing the fabric.

His navigation software had basically frozen, leaving a still image of a map in the bottom right corner of his vision. Every else seemed to be working, however.

He hoped.

“And what’s with the ‘I’m not a nindroid’ stuff, huh? Get off your goddamn high horse.” Kai’s voice rang in the back of his mind. Cryptor laughed bitterly, lips parting to show his teeth. The wind picked up even more, sounding like a choir of people screaming. He shivered from the cold, tucking his chin close to his chest and pulling the hood tighter over his head.

“If you can’t help, then maybe don’t talk at all.” He mumbled to himself, attempting to mimic Kai’s voice, the sound muffled from within the scarf. He was angrier than anything else. He forced his way through the wind and snow, keeping his gaze trained to the ground. It was colder than it had been an hour prior, and he let out another involuntary shudder as the temperature seemed to drop.

His eyes settled as he reached the edge of a hill. He looked up, closing his eyes a bit as the wind picked up once again. Once he reopened them, he realized that he had found a clearing in the woods. He could see the dark grey clouds looming overhead, flakes of snow blurring his sight.

A frozen lake lay in front of him, the shore just down the hill.

...They had passed the lake on the way here, didn’t they? So he was going in the right direction. He looked off to the distance, eyeing the shoreline, which was about 500 meters away from him on both sides.

“Too long.” He decided. He stepped forward, and skidded down the hill, his heels digging against the ice and snow that had built up on the slope. He reached the bottom without much of a problem, and approached the shore.

‘Guess it’s time to take the fast route.” He stepped forward, placing a foot on the ice, before he pulled himself ahead and stood on the lake. He looked down at the ice for a few seconds and stomped his foot against the thick glaze that covered the water with the same force a human would be able to generate.

Nothing.

“...Whatever.” He decided, before he started walking.

He made his way forward without much incident. The ice was strong and sturdy underneath his feet, and the soles of his boots were metal, and gripped the ice so he wouldn’t end up slipping and crashing to the ground.

“So that’s just it, huh? You’re just going to leave them?” He thought to himself, listening to the rhythmic sounds of his feet striking against the ice underneath him.

“...No.” He muttered quietly, shaking his head. “I’ll just...find the Bounty. Yeah. And I’ll...go back.”

The words left a weird taste in his mouth, as if he himself wasn’t even sure if what he was saying was true. He shook his head again, trying to drive all the intrusive thoughts away from his mind.

What was he saying? Of course, he’d go back for them.

Right?

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a sound.

A barely audible click. At first, he thought the ninja had managed to find him. His head whipped to a spot behind him, his eyes darting around to look for anything.

His hand already instinctively reached for a small knife he kept strapped to the inside of his jacket. His eyes only saw the tree line, nothing else.

“Just the wind.” He muttered, but the feeling he felt in his chest told him that it wasn’t the case.

But then it sounded out again.

The ice was breaking.

He let out an angry curse, before his gaze snapped to the ice he stood upon. Hairline fractures engraved themselves on the surface, weaving their intricate designs onto the cold ground. He cursed to himself again, before he scanned his surroundings, looking for a way to fix the problem.

Nothing.

So he turned his attention back to the direction that he was supposed to go.

And he took off sprinting.

He could just imagine the image of himself falling through the ice, crashing into the frigid water and shutting off, drowning—

“No no no no.” He shook his head violently. He couldn’t afford to think about that right now. He couldn’t. His feet slammed against the ice, and the sounds of cracking ice following him as he went. His breathing was ragged, panic gripping him violently.

He could see the shoreline approaching. He just hoped that the ice would hold out for long enough for him make it to dry land. He picked up the pace, his breathing beginning to quicken in panic.

100 meters.

75 meters.

50 meters—

The ground caved in from underneath him with the next step he took. His leg shot through the ice, causing him to trip. His torso slammed into the ice with a strangled gasp, and then the rest of the ice broke, and he was dunked into the water.

The first thing he registered onto was the cold, colder than anything he had ever experienced. Colder than the snow he had felt up until that point. Colder than—

A brief flash, and Cryptor was himself back when the Digital Overlord was trying to take over. The ice crawled its way up his legs, encasing him in a coffin of cold. The burning, horrible, splitting pain that came afterwards— it was too much. Someone make it stop. Someone make it stop—!

He opened up his mouth to scream, and the frigid water came rushing in. He was choking, gasping for air when there was none, dying. He was dying again. Again. He struggled for a sense of direction, unable to tell which way was up.

The second thing he noticed that it was dark. His night vision was basically useless. He looked up and managed to see the broken gash in the ice. He clawed his way to the surface. His right hand broke the water and managed to grasp onto the ice outside, his claws puncturing themselves so deep into the surface that they went straight through.

He pulled his upper chest out of the water, gasping and heaving for air, pulling in as much oxygen as his body would allow. Each breath he took was burning cold, but it didn’t matter. He just wanted to live.

“Shi-shit!” He managed to sputter out. He attempted to heave himself back onto the ice, and planted his left arm onto the surface, before using both arms to drag himself out.

The ice shattered once more, and he fell beneath the waves once again. The cold gripped its hands around his skin, the water dragging him further down, wanting to pull him to his watery grave.

He was losing.

Warning signals flashed before his vision, not doing anything to relieve his stress.

>Body temperature below -20 degrees. Internal heating system failure detected.

>Water detected. Threat of short-circuiting: 37%

>43%. Shutting down all non-essential functions to prevent short-circuiting. Entering low power mode.

He struggled for the surface once more. His movements became sluggish, and a dark, murky blackness tugged at the edges of his vision. He reached for the surface once again, but his fingers couldn’t reach the edge.

“No no no no!!” He screamed, his hands flailing for anything to find purchase on. Nothing. The water was rushing in, and he was dying.

Again.

He strained, but his fingertips hung inches away, and he was unable to produce a short burst of strength to close the distance.

He wanted to open his mouth to scream for help, but he was too busy gagging on the lake water to produce a single sound.

He was dying.

Another flash, and he could see himself perched on top of a tree limb, a chained weapon in his hands. Zane stood in front of him, a sword held in his right hand. A brief fight later, and Cryptor could see the wood of the tree rushing up to meet him. But his own weapon was there, and he let out a silent gasp once the sharp part came piercing through his chest—

He inhaled violently at the memory. More water came rushing in, silencing any sound he made. He struggled again, trying desperately to break the surface. But between his exhausted state and his soaked, heavy clothes, it was impossible.

He twisted his body into a standing upright position, and attempted to kick with his legs to creating propulsion, enough to get him to the surface.

>Threat of short-circuiting: 56%. Leave water immediately. Low power mode initiated.

His legs wouldn’t move. They had frozen into place. The panic was there, filling every crevice of his being. He wanted to cry, but every time he attempted to breathe his chest would ache like someone had stabbed him and twisted the knife deep.

His arm was gone. The walls around him had caved in, trapping him underneath a pile of rubble. He had felt the wires snap and disconnect once he attempted to free himself while his left arm was pinned underneath concrete, the agony working its way up his arm and shooting up into his skull. His teeth were gritted and pained tears streamed down his face. His left side was completely soaked with his blood—

“No.” He growled angrily. This couldn’t happen. He didn’t want this to happen. “You’ve been through all that hell, and you’re going to die here?”

His mind settled on an option. But there was an extremely high risk that he could die from it.

“I’m going to die either way.” He mumbled to himself.

“Override!” He basically screeched from within his mind. This was probably a bad idea, but he didn’t have any other choice.

>Low power mode command terminated. Threat of short-circuiting: 82%.

By some miracle, his body had decided not to fry yet. He reached for the surface, praying that he’d make it. He had to. He needed to.

His hands managed to claw themselves back into the surface.

He broke the surface, gagging and coughing. He dragged his upper chest into the ice and began to retch water, his body attempting to purge as much of it from his system as fast as possible. He let in a sharp inhale, gasping for breath. His breathing was heavy and uneven, but he was alive.

Two strong hands grabbed his arms and pulled him completely out of the water. He could barely even register onto what was happening before a thick blanket was wrapped around his shoulders and someone pulled him in close. It was then that Cryptor noticed that he himself was shaking. Violently.

“Dammit, he’s ice cold! We need to get him inside, immediately!” The voice sounded oddly familiar, but Cryptor was completely overtaken by exhaustion that he couldn’t place a name on it. It was then that he registered into the hum of the Bounty’s engines filling the silent air, the distant chatter and yelling of the ninja.

They had found him.

“You’re okay.” The voice spoke firmly, before the nindroid was completely lifted off his feet, almost as if he weighed nothing.

Cole.

Another pause, as Cole basically sprinted for the Bounty with Cryptor’s body in his arms  

“You’re okay.”

[the-sanders-sides]

Stereotypical High School Movie AU

a/n: Hey! So, I’ve been writing this fic on and off for almost two years now and I never really posted it on tumblr and mostly kept it on ao3, so I thought I’d do one big compilation post of the fic so far, so here it is! ps. the writing is kinda bad in the beginning but i promise it gets better later on

word count:  17275 chapters: 20 out of 30-ish ao3 link

Tags/Warnings: Endgame Prinxiety | Patton | Virgil | Logan | Roman | Deceit | Bullying | Angst | Panic Attack | Slow Burn | Friends to Enemies to Friends to Lovers | Fist Fights | Teacher Patton | LGBT Themes | Coming Out | Being Outed | Neophobia

Chapter 1

Virgil threw his alarm clock across the room, because the snooze button was just not working. He buried himself back underneath his dark blankets. But the damn thing would not shut up. What the hell did Logan do to it now? He tried to ignore the noise, but it kept gettING LOUDER. With an annoyed groan, Virgil got out of bed, picked up the red clock, and was about to chuck it out the window, until he saw Logan walk up to the door of his house.  

Virgil sighed as put on some random clothes, and headed down to open the door for Logan. “What the hell did you do my freaking alarm clock?!” Virgil was seething.

“Well, we have about twenty minutes until school starts, and it’s a five minute walk. And see I want to learn, but there is no way I’m going there without someone else who is also able to think and not be a complete dolt. So I reprogrammed your alarm to wake you up at the time where you can get the most sleep and still be ready,” Logan stated flatly, “Now go brush your teeth and put on some deodorant, you smell atrocious.”

“I feel atrocious. You know I was planning to just skip today, since my dad is out of town on business and I’m home alone, but I guess not.” Virgil replied.

“Anx c’mon, it’ll only be worse if you don’t show up. You’ll have a ton of work to catch up on, and people are going to be more callous when you do finally show up.” Logan pleaded.

“Ugh fine, you win.” And with that Virgil trudged away and finished getting ready, and left to walk to school with his only, and relatively new, friend.  On their daily walk to hell that started a few months ago, it was well established how much Virgil hated school and how much Logan hated the people at their school. Both of which, would be proved as soon as they walked in.

“Hey you fucking nerd!” someone yelled as Logan was slammed into the lockers. Logan sighed and kept walking on. “Hey, you fucking pansy, not gonna do anything, too afraid to fight?” And to this Logan squared his shoulders and looked in the eye of the other and flatly said, “You know, you really shouldn’t mess with ‘nerds’.  I hacked into the school wifi, found your IP address, and let’s just say your computer will not be functioning the way you want it to anymore. I don’t take shit from anyone, and I don’t fight in ways I know I can’t win, because unlike you I’m smart.”

The bully started cracking his knuckles, “Oh you are so gonna get it.” Virgil pushed Logan out of the way and rolled up his sleeves. “He might not be able to fight, but I can. This is my ‘fuck you, asshole’ for everything.”

The bully scoffed, “That’s funny, you actually think you can beat me pipsqueak.” Virgil, unable to reach the taller one’s face, punched him hard in the gut, and immediately threw his hands back up into defense. He had his stance wide and was bouncing on his toes to keep the movement flowing. He was so glad Logan showed him all those taekwondo videos so he could finally get some payback. Anxiety used his left hand to block a punch from the other and retaliated with a rising kick. Anxiety decked the bully in the face with Anxiety’s foot. Anxiety spoke, “You’re insults used to be good. Now they’re nothing more than lines taken from the stereotypical anti-bullying videos they show us in assemblies.” Anxiety made to walk away and high-five Logan, when he was picked up and slammed into the floor like a rag doll. All Anxiety thought during that moment was that he really needed to eat more.  Virgil started to feel dizzy. He was seeing double and his hearing was foggy. Well shit, I’m definitely passing out and now this guy is going to beat Logan to a pulp. I need to be… I need to be… Virgil's eyes shut and he was unconscious.

In the blur of what just happened, Logan was on the floor next to Virgil checking for a pulse. He saw someone in red and white clothing pull a teacher out of a classroom. He was searching for the pulse, he was placing his hand on Virgil's wrist, on his neck, but his hands were shaking too much. Logan felt himself get pulled aside by a teacher in a blue shirt. He heard a stern, “Go to the principal’s office NOW,” as the blue clad teacher pointed in a direction, probably to a person. Logan noticed how hard he was breathing, how he couldn’t seem to keep up with everything going on around himself. He knew during the fight, some people had circled around them, but now everyone was in chaos. He looked to floor for Anxiety’s body and couldn’t find him. Where is he? Where is he? Logan was looking everywhere through the hall. I never should have encouraged him to learn how to fight. This is on me now…. There he is! The teacher in blue was carrying Virgil somewhere. Logan followed. He walked only a short distance through the halls, but it seemed to last a millennia. The teacher stopped at the nurse’s office. Logan walked inside, and was… being guided to one of the sick beds? Wait, what are they doing? He whispered, “I’m fine… Ta..ke care of Anx…He needs it..” Logan’s breathing was worse. Someone was in front of him and said something, but he wasn’t sure what. He asked where Virgil was and whoever this blue teacher was entered his vision and pointed to a bed next to Logan. Oh thank goodness, Virgil's safe. Finally knowing that his friend was in good hands, Logan collapsed and fell asleep, as his body was too exhausted after the panic attack to keep him awake.

Chapter 2

Virgil opened his eyes and the world was a blur. His head throbbed and his body ached. He rubbed his eyes and the world got clearer. He noticed the blue beds of the nurse’s office. I wonder who…took me here… I hope… Log- Virgil immediately sat up and said, “Where’s Logan? Is he alright?” Someone who Virgil assumed was the nurse rushed into the room. “Oh good, you’re awake. Your friend is okay, we sent him home for the day.”

This alarmed Virgil. “What happened to Logan!? What did those punks do to him??”

“Sweetie, relax. He’s fine now. He had a panic attack earlier. How are you feeling? You will need to go to a doctor to check if you are concussed. I’ll call your parent or guardian to pick you up and take you there.”

“My dad is out of town. I’ll get a taxi or have a friend drive me there.” Like hell I’m going to the hospital. Dad’s never gonna find out about this, if he does, then boy am I in trouble, and there’s no way we can afford the hospital bills either. I’ll just… get Logan to check it out. He’ll know what to do.

The nurse looked nervous about this, but agreed nonetheless, “Okay, well before you go, you might want to clean up in the bathroom.”

Virgil followed her instruction, only because of the close watch she was keeping on him, and walked into the bathroom. He looked at his face and saw he had a split lip. As he moved forward to look closer at himself in the mirror, his body hurt with every slight motion to complete the movement. Virgil lifted up his jacket and his shirt and saw his skin in various shades of gruesome. Black and blue splotches were pounded into his torso, and he assumed the rest of his body was that way too. Damn, that suplex was powerful. These bruises are going to be so annoying. Virgil leant over the sink to examine his face more carefully. Seeing as nothing else was wrong he fixed his hair and splashed water on his face. “You can do this,” Virgil pointed at himself in the mirror and kept speaking, “Endure the pain and go to Logan’s house. Then, never go to school again.” As Virgil exited the bathroom of the nurse’s office he said, under his breath, “Ugh, who the hell am I kidding, I’m probably gonna be way too anxious about trying to skip anyway. Dad would murder me if the school called, even if I forged his voice in a call to school. I’m glad Logan got me out of that situation this morning.” As he left the nurse’s office, Virgil saw that the halls were mostly deserted except for those who had free periods.

Roman had a free period, so he walked to where his ‘friends’ and he eat lunch. Goodness, he hated those ‘friends’. But he couldn’t get away from them. Roman was the star of the school, as many adults liked to say in their I-am-talking-to-a-teenager-so-it-is-time-to-be-condescending voice.  Roman seemed to have a shining self-confidence, as it looked as though he accepted his flaws. He had good grades. He would star in the school play every year, and after a friend pushing him in ninth grade even though he detested sports back then, he joined the track and field team and he shattered records.  He found he really liked running too. So people began to flock to him near the end of ninth grade, as he became more known throughout the school. But people didn’t care to like him for him. The people just wanted a false confidence built from the idea of popularity that would somehow come from being Roman’s friend. As much as he tried to get away from those people, he couldn’t. This led to him losing some good friends, for his new ‘friends’ would push the old ones away no matter what Roman would say, because all of the ‘friends’ were total dicks and bullies.

Roman sighed as reminisced, goodness he hated the people around him. And as much as Roman tried to be a good person, he was afraid of standing up for himself and others to his ‘friends’. And he was damn ashamed of that. As his thoughts ended, he reached his ‘friends’ at the first hallway after the entrance to the school and put on a façade of security and nonchalance.

It took Virgil a while to reach the front of the school. He was currently nearing the first hallway after the entrance to the school when he heard a conversation that made him stop and listen. He heard some voices he thought he recognized as the bullies (also known to Virgil and Logan as roaches) and peered around the corner to see them talking in the hallway. Virgil turned back around and was going to exit the school another way as to avoid those roaches when he heard the worst roach, Roman, talk.

“Oh, I only told Mr. Patton there was a fight happening so only the ones actually fighting would get in trouble, and we wouldn’t for being bystanders or whatever. Damage control.”

VIrgil was seething with rage. He hated Roman. He despised Roman. He could never forgive Roman. Virgil wanted to step on and crush that roach the most.

Chapter 3

To avoid the roaches and not get beat up some more, Virgil promptly turned on his heel and walked all the way across the school to the back exit. Once he left the school, he walked to Logan’s house. Virgil didn’t even bother knocking on the front door, he just walked around to the side of the house where a window to Logan’s room was located and climbed into the room through the window. Logan had been sitting at a desk and was typing code, occasionally pausing to write things down when he couldn’t figure out what to type next. Virgil stood behind where Logan was seated with his eyes downcast for a couple minutes. After realizing Logan was too immersed in what he was doing to have noticed Virgil's presence, Virgil walked up to Logan, put a hand on his shoulder, and spoke.

“Hey, whatcha typing?”

“Holy shit!” Logan jumped up from his seat, clearly startled, “Warn me next time! Oh my god…” Virgil grinned.

“Would ya look at that? You’re picking up some words from me.” Logan rolled his eyes and Virgil, feigning shock, declared: “The prim Logan, swearing? I am appalled young man.”

“Anyway, what are you typing?”

“Remember this morning how I said I hacked into that roach’s laptop earlier today? I never actually did that, so after I was kicked out of the nurse’s office because apparently, I was ‘crowding you’ and that ‘wouldn’t help you’, which makes no sense, I hacked into the school’s wifi to get the roach’s IP address, and now I’m just double checking my code for sending a porn virus to his laptop.” Virgil high-fived Logan.

“Firstly, you’re amazing and now you’re my hero for going through with that. Secondly, how are you? Are you alright? I heard you had a panic attack.”

“I’m fine now. I should be the one asking you if you’re okay.”

“I’m… I dunno if I'm alright. I might be concussed,” Virgil said nonchalantly.

“Anxiety! You’ve got to go to a doctor or go to the hospital!”

“Well, you’re basically a doctor with all the medical stuff you know, so give me a diagnosis.” Logan glared at Virgil, but decided that Virgil getting help from Logan was better than Virgil not getting any help at all, so Logan went along with it. Logan asked Virgil some questions and Virgil mentioned his headache. Logan eventually decided that Virgil was okay, but told Virgil to not try and fight for a week or two. That was also Logan’s way of protecting Virgil, for Logan felt immensely guilty after Virgil got hurt because it was originally Logan’s idea for Virgil to learn to fight. Logan sent his hack to the roach’s computer, and Virgil flopped on Logan’s bed.

“Roman’s an ass,” Virgil said in a defeated tone.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to see a roach ever again,” Virgil suddenly sat up, “Logan, how can I stomp out the roaches?”

“Well, you would need a giant shoe filled with weights to fall on them.” Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Hey, that’s actually a good idea! We should totally do it!”

“That would kill them.”

“You need to learn what sarcasm means. And what figures of speech are. Stop taking me literally all the time. You know what I meant.” Now it was Logan’s turn to roll his eyes, but he nevertheless gave Virgil the answer that he was looking for.

“Well, if we want to ‘stomp on the roaches’ we have to make them lose the power they have over us and others. People don’t want to get hurt by the roaches so they uncomfortably watch as anyone who dares to get in their way gets pummeled and humiliated. We need to dismantle that fear. We also need to give them some payback. Preferably, anonymous payback, so we don’t get suspended or expelled.”

“You know I’m down for this, but what’s your reason for doing the payback? It doesn’t exactly have a… point in the plan, and if I know you, you don’t do things without a reason.” Logan smirked.

“Oh… it’s just for fun.”

Chapter 4

“So, there are 4 roaches. The big, buff one that suplexed you got suspended so we don’t have to worry about him,” Logan said as he grabbed a notebook and pen, and titled the page ‘Roaches’. “So I don’t know too much about them, except for Roman. All I know about the other roaches is what they look like and that they’re garbage. Considering you were in middle school with these dunderheads, you have got to have some knowledge about things they do that are reputation ruining, right?”

Virgil responded with a grin, “Hell yeah I do.  So Charlotte, ya know the girl with the long black hair and dark skin, I’m pretty sure her record is 4 boyfriends and 2 girlfriends a single month. She keeps her relationship on the down low, because her parent would kill her if they found out. ‘specially since she’s too busy making out with them and skipping class to work. So she end up threatening people for their homework and notes before class. I walked in on her kissing Rashmi, and she broke up with her right then and there. Rashmi was sobbing. It was awful. And then Charlotte tried to kiss me so I wouldn’t say anything about it.”

“What did you do?” Logan asked quietly, as he rushed to write what Virgil said.

“Oh, I grabbed Rashmi and ran away with her. She hugged me as she cried and ended up telling me about the romantic escapades of Charlotte. Charlotte’s a real bitch. Apparently right before I walked in, Rashmi was confronting Charlotte of whether or not the relationship meant anything to Charlotte since Rashmi had just found out about all the quick heartbreaks Charlotte caused. This happened last April so I don’t know if Charlotte still does this, but it’s something we could use against her.”

“And the last one is Wynne. They’re the manipulative little piece of shit that has the worst self-esteem I’ve ever seen,” Virgil saw Logan raise his eyebrows, “Yeah, even worse than mine. So you know what they do? They’re kinda like Regina George. They whisper snide comments about people, just in their range of hearing.” Virgil started to get more and more heated up about Wynne. His hatred for this person was making him breathe heavier, talk faster, and well tears. “They give people ‘cute’ nicknames and false compliments and laugh about it later in their face. Wynne is the asshat that drove my only friend away from me and-”

A tear slid down Virgil’s cheek. His hands were balled in fists and his knuckles were turning white. Logan dropped the notebook and brought Virgil into a very awkward hug.

“I know I’m not the best at the whole comforting thing, but is this good?”

Virgil weakly chuckled. “Yeah it’s great,” Virgil moved away from Logan and looked him in the eye, “All that stuff with Wynne and Roman, it’s in the past. I… have you now, right?

“Yes, you do. And there is no way I’m ever going to be turned into a roach like him.”

Chapter 5

The next day Logan and Virgil walked confidently to school, as both knew the first part of the plan was going to be starting. However, when they walked through the double doors of the school, Virgil’s confidence dissipated quickly, and Logan’s faltered. All eyes had turned to them. Many looked shocked, and some looked sympathetic. The two were confused until they heard yelling coming from down the hallway.

“How the hell was I supposed to know that fucking nerd Logan was stupid enough to try and send a porn virus to your computer? How was I even supposed to stop him? Beat him up some more with Mr. Patton right there in front of me? You’re such an idiot, Nurul!”

The yelling paused. Virgil and Logan looked at each other in recognition of what was happening. The voice, which sounded like Wynne’s, was talking to Nurul, who apparently was the big, beefy guy who beat up Virgil, on the phone. Logan spoke in disbelief, “The porn virus… worked!” Virgil nodded enthusiastically.

“Listen, Nurul. It’s not my fault you have some insane urge to pick a fight with those bastards every time you see them! You know what just stay the hell away from me, from us actually, if you’re going to be like this and blame your mistakes on me!”

There was another pause before Wynne started yelling again. “Yeah, thank your parents for me for taking your phone away. I don’t think I could take another second of you. I can’t wait to see you next week. You’ll have an incredibly warm welcome. Goodbye.”

Wynne tapped end call and roughly shoved their phone into their pocket. Once they saw everyone looking at them, they gruffly yelled, “What the hell are all of you staring at? Do you want me to destroy you? HUH? DO YOU?”

Just then, Mr. Patton walked by and overheard the outburst. “Wynne Ellis. How could you speak to your peers in such a manner? Detention. After school.” Wynne gave a grunt of acknowledgement, and frustratedly stormed off.

Virgil burst into laughter. He doubled over and was clutching his stomach. Logan laughed a little bit too and said, “Virgil, I wasn’t even sure if the porn virus and the suspension would be enough to deal with Nurul! Oh my goodness, this worked out so much better than I thought!”

Virgil responded, barely able to breathe from his laughter, “Lo- Logan, you’re g- genius! We do- don’t hav’ta pput him in the pplan! Holy crap. I- I don’t thi- think I’ve laughed tthis hard in ages!”

The two stayed laughing like that in the hallway until the first bell rang. They didn’t care if anyone looked at them weirdly or sent a snide remark to them. They didn’t care about the repercussions of their actions. Right now, they were happy.

Chapter 6

School actually went smoothly for once that day. Wynne was seething all day, and was too busy trying to get out of detention to instigate any problems. The rest of the school seemed to discretely bow down to Logan and Virgil that day for what they pulled off. When school finished, the pair went to Logan’s home to continue Operation: Roach Stomp! Next up… Charlotte!!!

Virgil sat on Logan’s swivel chair that Logan kept next to his desk and spun around. Logan sat at the edge of his bed.

“So, Charlotte now right?” Virgil asked.

“Exactly, and I have an idea of what exactly to do. It’ll just take a bit of time and maybe a bribe,” Logan said smirking, confidence and doubt both echoed in his voice.

“Time and bribery,” Virgil repeated.

“Yup, time and bribery.”

“Okaaaay… What’s your idea?” Virgil said skeptically.

“So, we find out who Charlotte’s new partner is, we tell that partner about the constant heartbreaks and use Rashmi as a source if the new partner doesn’t believe us, and then we get the new partner to go to Charlotte’s parents and tell them about the relationships and the homework stealing and be all like ‘Oh, I’m so concerned about Charlotte because I care about her so much, I just wanted to talk to you guys to make it better…” And then Charlotte’s parents will be pissed and boom. She’s grounded.”

“Where the hell does the bribery come in?”

“If the partner or Rashmi doesn’t agree.”

“Alright,” Virgil said, “Let’s do this.”

At school the next day, Logan and Virgil took turns tailing and watching Charlotte, until they found her partner. It was unsuccessful, in that they didn’t find Charlotte’s new partner. Thankfully, though, Virgil had more than one trick up his sleeve. It happened during Charlotte’s and Virgil’s free period. Her false, falsetto, sweet as saccharine voice called out to Virgil when the two were alone. He was on his phone, pretending like he was just scrolling though social media, and she was facing away from him across the hall.

“Hey, honey~ I’ve noticed you seem interested in me today. Hm… do you remember,” she turned around, an almost sadistic grin plastered on her face, “when I kissed you all that time ago?” She started to approach him, “Are you back for more?” Virgil looked her in the eye. He smirked.

“So it is true that you don’t have a current partner,” he checked her out, “Lucky me.” She lightly pinned Virgil to the wall, and gave him a chaste kiss that lasted barely a moment.

“The rumors were false, then. You aren’t gay. Mmm, I’m going to enjoy this.” As she leant in towards Virgil, he felt the world go in slow motion. He froze. He thought he had denied the rumors enough for everyone to believe that he was straight. What made them spread again? He was ten miles deep into the closet and only one other should know. He feigned a smirk.

“Haha, yeah, I do not know where these new tales are coming from,” he said, desperately trying to cover up his moment of character breaking.

“Don’t worry, babe, we’ll put an end to what lil ol' Roman spread right now.” The pair’s lips collided. Virgil kissed back through his anger at Roman, and it seemed that Charlotte rather enjoyed that. Charlotte broke the kiss and scanned over the hall they were in for a storage closet. She took Virgil’s hand and pulled him into one a little bit away, and locked the door.

Their mouths collided again, and it wasn’t anything special. Just another person to add to Charlotte’s belt, and just a fake kiss for Virgil. It wasn’t fireworks, well it never is, but Virgil did think it was better when it was with someone he loved. Anger started bubbling up in Virgil once more at the thought of the betrayal he went through with his only other partner, and that anger made the kiss more heated. Charlotte took that as an entrance to slip her tongue into his mouth. He didn’t like it, but what was he supposed to do? If Charlotte didn’t have a partner, well, this was the only way to make the plan work.

They were both equally taking advantage of each other.

The first bell rang, signaling the end of the period. Virgil and Charlotte pulled away. Virgil wiped the wetness form his mouth with his jacket sleeve.

“Damn, Anxiety, if I’d known how great of a kisser you were, I wouldn’t have let you go that day.”

“I- Uh- Only one person is allowed to use that nickname anymore, and that isn’t you. Call me babe or some other couple’s pet name instead.”

“Well, babe, join me at lunch tomorrow, why don’t ya?”

“Sure thing, Charlotte.”

Charlotte fixed her hair and clothing, and left the closet, telling Virgil to leave later as to not arise suspicion from a teacher.

Well, one thing was for sure, Virgil was not coming out of the closet.

Chapter 7

“Verge, you did what!?”

“Chill out, Logan, it’s all part of the plan,” Virgil tapped his finger to his head, “Remember?”

“I know it is part of the plan, but this is really risky! The backlash of this could be horrific!” Virgil sighed, and looked around Logan’s bedroom, thinking of what to say.

“Well, I can’t exactly stop now. That’ll be worse. I’ll just keep pretending to like kissing her,” Virgil said, laughing at that last part. Logan relented.

“Ugh, fine. Do it. But you better be a damn good actor. And control your anger at lunch tomorrow. You can’t blow up at Wynne or Roman just yet.” Virgil grinned.

“Oh, but I sure can blow up at Charlotte. She likes it when I get angry. When we were making out yesterday I’d get pissed off thinking about the damned roaches, and she’d just like that more. She’s… she’s really something.” Logan threw a pillow at Virgil.  Virgil cocked an eyebrow.

“Jealous much, Logan?” Logan glared at Virgil.

“Falsehood. I could never be jealous of Charlotte and her cheating ways.”

“In more ways than one. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if she already dumped me and moved on,” Virgil chuckled, “I wonder how the fucking drama queen is gonna handle finding out I’m Charlotte’s latest boy toy.”

+

Logan glanced at Virgil at the end of their last class before lunch, and Virgil gave him a discreet thumbs up. Charlotte sauntered up to Virgil’s desk and sat on it when the bell rang.

“So babe, go get your lunch with your nerdy dweeb friend and I’ll call you over to my table after,” she planted a kiss on his cheek and whispered in his ear, “Hmm… I cannot wait for our free period…”

“Me neither, Char, me neither. See you later,” Virgil said in a rather seductive manner and winked. Once he and Logan were out of the classroom, Virgil breathed a sigh of relief. “Man, my acting has really gotten better since middle school. Sorry she called you a nerdy dweeb, dude. I mean, she’s not wrong, but only I can say it.” Logan lightly elbowed Virgil.

The two bought their lunches, and soon after Charlotte took Virgil to the lunch table where the roaches generally sit. Virgil eyed Logan wearily as he walked to the other table, and Logan gave him a smile of assurance.  

Charlotte sauntered up to the roach table, and sat down at the table with Virgil next to her, holding her hand. On the other side of the table was Wynne and Roman. He was in the roaches’ domain now. Well, the roaches-minus-the-suspended-Nurul’s domain.

Upon seeing Virgil, Wynne burst out laughter. Gasping for breath, from whatever was so funny, he spoke: “Ch-Charlotte, haha, you’ve gotta be kidding me. Him? You can do, hahaha, so much better.”

“Yeah, and aren’t you gay, Anxiety?” Roman added, looking at Virgil for the first time since he sat down with the roaches. Virgil looked at Roman with a downright murderous glare.

“What the fuck. No. I’m not gay. I don’t know what got in your head and twisted your memory, Princey, but I am not gay. And don’t call me Anxiety,” Virgil said curtly. Charlotte looked at Virgil and smirked.

“Yeah, and he loves making out with me, don’t ya babe?”  She asked. Virgil smirked, and made eye contact with Charlotte.

“Mm, I just cannot wait ‘till our free period…”

“You’ve sure changed,” Roman said, raising his eyebrows. Virgil felt his blood boil. He knew for the sake of the plan, that he had to stay calm, but he couldn’t—not when dealing with Roman, at least.

“Go to hell,” Virgil all but spat at Roman.

“Woah, fellas, calm down. I mean all of us here know, including you Anxiety from that incident with poor ol’ Rashmi, that your “relationship” will last a week, max. Then, Charlotte will get over your pathetic ass, and everything will go back to normal. Until then, let’s be civil,” Wynne said, pretending to try and keep the peace.

“Civil, my ass. Never with you two fuckers,” Virgil yelled across the table. He gathered his stuff, told Charlotte to meet him outside of janitor’s closet, and stormed off.

Chapter 8

Virgil stormed outside the cafeteria and exited to the back of the school. He zipped up his black hoodie as the first of the coming winter’s winds crashed upon him. Virgil leant against a wall and felt the emotional turmoil of being around Roman and Wynne rise up. He pulled out his cell phone and sent a text to Logan.

               Sorry Logan, I blew up at them.

               I didn’t mean to, it just happened.

               I can’t stand them.

Logan replied a few minutes later.

               it’s ok verge

               it’s possible we cud use this 2 our advantage

               but more importantly

               r u ok?

Virgil sent only one more text; he put his phone away afterwards.

               I’m not. They’re assholes. I’m behind the school. I think I just want to be alone right now, though.

Virgil stayed in his spot, leaning behind the school for the rest of the lunch period, trying to calm down and reflecting on everything that occurred. He realized that maybe Roman was trying to be civil? But that didn’t mean he was excused for everything that happened between them. It was too much. Roman was too much. Why did Roman ruin everything?

The bell signaling the end of lunch rang. Virgil sighed. Well, time for a fun free period of making out with a person he doesn’t like. Virgil chuckled to himself at that thought.

Later that day, on their walk home from school, Virgil fully explained what happened. Logan responded only with a sigh and a pat on the back for comfort.

“It’s okay Virgil. This isn’t a complete disaster. We’ll just continue on with the plan as usual, and take Charlotte down. At least now we know for sure we weren’t just being complete dicks and all this is justified,” Logan said in a partial monotone. Virgil darkly chuckled.

“Your morals are very loose, because there is no way in hell fucking with people is ever justified no matter what they did. At least we’re owning how shitty we are, unlike those fucks who pretend to be nice and are actually just passive aggressive demons.” Logan stopped walking and turned to face Virgil. Virgil followed suit.

“Anxiety, what have I told you about putting yourself down, hm? We aren’t like them. Yes, what we’re doing is pretty crappy, but it’s for the greater good, ya know? No one likes the roaches and no one will bring them down because of the fear they strike in people. No one wants to end up like us. So we’re just doing justice…” Logan trailed off, losing his train of thought.  Virgil crossed his arms.

“C’mon you nerd, I know you’ve read books. Doing bad things for the so called ‘greater good’ is never good,” Virgil said, starting up his walking again, as Logan followed him.

“No way. Without Dumbeldore working for the ‘greater good,’ Harry Potter would never have been able to defeat Voldemort in the first book, since he wouldn’t have had the love protection due to the blood relation with Petunia.”

“Petunia was an abusive aunt! He was knowingly placed in an abusive family for ten years after his parents were killed! How was that worth it!?”

“Better only one person gets hurt than many more killed by Voldemort.” Virgil threw his hands up.

“What the fuck! It’s better no one gets hurt! You know what, I know I was all for it at the beginning, but honestly lunch made me realize how I have no one to blame but myself. I was the one who provoked Roman. I was the one who decided to take advantage of Charlotte. I was the one who wanted to stomp out the roaches in the first place! I’m the asshole! Greater good my ass…”

“You know what, Virgil? You’re right. You did provoke Roman; you did take advantage of Charlotte; and you were the one who proposed stomping out the roaches. But do you want to know something else? Roman was the first to provoke you two years ago. Charlotte is taking advantage of you right now. You’re just another notch on her belt. And you’re not the only one who’s wanted to stomp out the roaches. Don’t you see it? People have noticed what we’re doing, well they noticed what we did to Nurul, and they’re glad. Everyone is getting what they deserved.”

“Hhhhhhhh. It still doesn’t feel right to me…”

“Anxiety, you're overthinking this," Logan nudged Virgil with his elbow, "Hey, how about we ask Mr. Patton tomorrow about the greater good? He probably knows a lot about morals considering he’s constantly talking about them in the books we read for class,” Logan suggested.

“Fine,” Virgil sighed, finally relenting to something Logan was saying, “But I’m not going to continue with the plan until we do that.”

Chapter 9

The bell rang signaling the end of Mr. Patton’s English class. Virgil stretched when he got up, and groaned as the bruises from being suplexed weren’t fully gone yet. At least it was time for lunch.

Logan got up and walked over to Virgil. “So, Anx, do you want to ask about the greater good now?” Virgil shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded. The pair walked over to Mr. Patton’s desk at the front of the room and waited there as the room cleared. Once it was just the three of them in the room, Virgil cleared his throat and spoke.

“Um Mr. Patton, we, uh, wanted to ask ya ‘bout the, um, greater good?” Virgil asked, his mouth becoming dry from the nervousness of socialization with someone new. Mr. Patton grinned.

“Oh well sure thing, kiddos! Do you guys just wanna know about it in general or something specific?” Logan pushed up his glasses.

“We wanted to know if doing something for the greater good justifies the means of doing it. For example, how Dumbledore put Harry in an abusive home so he could defeat Voldemort,” Logan said. Mr. Patton sighed.

“Aw, well shucks you two, this sure is a tough moral dilemma. But hey, that’s why they call me,” Mr. Patton pointed a thumb to himself, “Mr. Patton—it’s short for Morality Patton!” Logan deadpanned and Virgil suppressed a laugh. Mr. Patton coughed into his hand. “Tough crowd… Well anyway, the greater good is a very tough thing to dissect. There's a human part of us that wants justice in all situations, but unfortunately the human part is the fallible part, so when we want something 'done right' it's subject to our skew-whiff definition of 'right', and we end up doing things, like you said Logan with your Harry Potter example, 'for the greater good' that aren't good at all. This is my favorite kind of conflict to read and teach; the morally grey stuff where nobody's innocent.” Logan looked disappointed.

“So that would make someone bad if they tried to do something for the greater good?” Virgil asked, with his eyes averting from any possible eye contact.

“Well, it’s not quite that simple. In most media, if there's a 'it's for the greater good!'/'eye-for-an-eye!!' kind of a thing, none of the characters seem aware of it at all. They justify it blindly in their own minds and it never occurs to them that what they're doing is just as bad as or worse than what's been done to them; they've been wronged, so they get a free shot back. And that's just how it is. When we analyze books with the greater good as a prevailing theme, we need to ask ourselves some questions. Do the characters really have any right to get back at whoever wronged them? By getting revenge, are they just turning into the people who wronged them? So really, it’s up to the readers to decide if a character is bad or good,” Mr. Patton said.

Man, this guy is smart. Why isn’t he a college professor, Logan thought.

“Thank you, Mr. Patton. This information is very useful. I will be able to read books much better now,” Logan said. Mr. Patton nodded and smiled. Logan and Virgil made to leave the room.

“Have a good lunch and thanks for puddin’ up with me and my long winded explanation,” Mr. Patton called out with a wave. Virgil snorted and Logan facepalmed.

“It was a good explanation, Mr. Patton,” Logan said, as the two teenagers left the classroom and closed the door.

Chapter 10

Virgil’s eyes traced the floor, his head angled downward, as he breathed smoothly. Outside of the classroom, Logan faced Virgil.

“Anx, I- Virgil look at me,” Logan said forehead creased with concern. Virgil moved his head upwards and his eyes met Logan’s. “It pains me to say this, but,” Logan shut his eyes tightly, “I WAS WRONG!” he yelled, having to force the words out. Logan let out a small chuckle looked around. Virgil had flinched from Logan’s volume, but he was stunned for Logan’s confession. “You were right.  We aren’t doing this right,” Logan said despite his struggle to speak this for how it hurt his pride. “I still don’t fully agree that the plan is morally wrong, but I- I trust Mr. Patton’s and your judgement better than my own,” Logan shrugged, “I’m just… not all that great with moral stuff. I often lose points when we have to analyze that in the books we read…” Logan trailed off. Virgil nodded with a small smile, and the two walked over to the lunchroom. Virgil was furiously biting his lip as the two friends sat down with their lunches.

“So, what n-”

“Logan, I’m gay!” Virgil exclaimed, cutting off whatever Logan was going to say. “It’s not just the moral stuff that was making me feel bad, I couldn’t handle dating Charlotte when it all feels so wrong for her hands to be on my body, for her to call me “babe,” and do all this coupley stuff with me. I can’t, I’m sorry,” Virgil finished, tears welling up in his eyes, shaking his head as he held it in his hands.

“Virgil, it’s alright-” Logan began, reaching a hand out to Virgil, but was abruptly cut off by something foul. Wynne loomed over Virgil with an eyebrow raised.

“Oh? Did I hear that right? You’re dating our Charlotte, and you don’t ever like her?” Wynne said aggressively. If they were an animal, they’d be snarling ferociously while Virgil would be a small, shaking prey. With eyes wide and a slightly creased forehead, Virgil slowly turned around and looked up to find Wynne smirking at him.

“Y-You didn’t hear t-that right,” Virgil squeaked, obviously panicked.

“Sure I didn’t,” Wynne said sarcastically, narrowing their eyes. Wynne roughly grabbed the collar of Virgil’s shirt and forced him forward. “Prove it then. Prove you’re not gay. Prove you like Charlotte,” Wynne growled. Virgil didn’t know what to do, terrified and frozen with fear. A chair screeched and fists slammed a lunch table.

“Let. Him. Go,” Logan asserted, standing up tall.

“Make me,” Wynne snarled. As Logan was about to jump on top of the table to get to Virgil and Wynne on the other side, out of nowhere a fourth person punched Wynne in the face.

“I’m done being a bystander and an accomplice to you,” Roman growled, shaking his fist, and walking away. Wynne’s eyes went wide and their nose crinkled in pure, unadulterated rage. They walked up to Roman and grabbed his hair so he’d turn around and face them.

“What,” Roman spat, more as a statement than a question.  Wynne shook their head.

“You. Are. Not. Done. With. Me,” Wynne said, punctuating each word with a new level of ferociousness.

“I don’t know what you did, but it became clear to me that you’re the reason Anx-Virgil doesn’t speak to me anymore when he had lunch with us the other day. I don’t know what the fuck you did, but I can gauge how bad it could be, for one little, petty disagreement wouldn’t have separated us. I thought that’s what you did to push everyone else away from me, but I was wrong. And now, I’m finally getting some fucking confidence of my own to tell you to BACK OFF,” Roman said, insanely livid.

“Ah!” Wynne shrieked, never being rejected like this. They balled their hands into fists and stormed out of the cafeteria.

Roman closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Both Virgil and Logan stood at the table, mouths agape in shock.

Chapter 11

"R-Roman?" Virgil asked cautiously, brow furrowed. "What was all that about?"

“Ah- I... I must take my leave! I, uh, have rehearsal!” Roman lied, making sure not to have eye contact with Virgil. Roman brushed past Logan and Virgil, and exited the cafeteria.

How did that just happen? How, no why, did he just do that?

Roman’s thoughts were a hurricane of confusion and emotion. It was all too much to decipher. So why not go to the auditorium and actually rehearse some lines? At least there he could deal with his character's problems, and not his own.

Roman entered the backstage of the auditorium and walked out onto the stage, script for an upcoming production of High School Musical in hand. He stood center stage, and began to sing one of his his solos. His deep, melodious voice echoed throughout the auditorium, and a spotlight shone on him. That’s strange. No one else should be here now. Except maybe...

“Deceit? What are you doing?” Roman called out to his classmate in the tech booth. A voice bellowed out of the loud speakers.

“I have a name, you know. It's Dennis Ceet.”

“Yeah, no. You made that up so you could have your edgy persona,” Roman said, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, you know what? The spotlight totally doesn’t bring out the tears in your eyes,” Deceit pouted, “And I thought Troy Bolton was a happy fella.”

“It’s an artists rendition,” Roman called out, waving his hand as he turned around. He needed to calm down. Deceit never let shit like this go.

“Man if I didn’t know any better, I’d say your in need of advice. Something's got you down, eh?” Deceit said, turning up the volume of the speakers he talked through. “Is there trouble in the oh so great Roman’s paradise?” Roman winced and covered his ears. “I mean, everyone would love to be you, since you have such great friends.” Speakers were definitely not meant to be this loud. “You’re just the epitome of this high school! Everyone envies you!” Deceit was practically yelling into the mic now. “WHAT MORE COULD YOU WANT? WHAT WOULD YOU NEED ADVICE ON? YOU’RE FEELING TRAPPED, I BET! GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS, ROMAN. NOT EVERYTHING’S ABOUT YOU!” Roman gritted his teeth from the sound, and fell to his knees. Now this was pain.

In the distance of his ringing ears, Roman heard the door to the tech room fall shut. Deceit had left the area physically, but his presence could still be felt in Roman's mind. Everything Deceit said was a paradox: true from the outside, wrong from the inside. A tear escaped Roman’s eye. There’s nothing Roman could do to make things right. It would’ve been better if he’d just stuck to the status quo.

Chapter 12

Logan and Virgil were perplexed by the... recent, unprecedented events at lunch. But there was unfortunately no time to dwell on that as partners were being assigned for a chemistry project. Ugh, why couldn’t teachers ever let students pick their own partners.

“With my luck, I’ll end up with Charlotte,” Virgil mumbled to Logan. Logan scoffed softly, and rolled his eyes.

“Roman! Virgil! Partner up,” the chemistry teacher called out. Virgil deadpanned at Logan, and sighed in frustration. He roughly got up from his desk and brought his stuff over to Roman’s table. Now this was just fucking fantastic. It was like the world was out to torture Virgil.

Roman’s eyes were still a tad puffy from his crying escapades, but at least he could play it off as a sad scene in rehearsal. Yup. That’s totally what it was. Hmph. Roman crossed his arms. Stupid freaking Dennis Ceet.

“Alright, let’s just get this over with as soon as possible so we can continue to avoid each other for all eternity,” Virgil huffed, crossing his arms, and blowing his bangs away from his face. Roman’s forehead creased and he looked at Virgil with soft eyes.

“I still don’t understand, Anx- Virgil. What did Wynne do? Why... why have we been driven apart?” Roman asked, steadying his shaking voice. Virgil shut his eyes tight and shook his head.

“I- H-How do you not know?! You- You were there!” Virgil whisper-yelled, eyes welling with tears. Romans eyes widened, and a frown grew on his face.

“A- Virgil. I honestly have no clue what you’re talking about. I thought we just drifted apart and Wynne sped up the process... but that lunch... It told me there was so much more than what I thought had happened,” Roman pleaded.  Virgil gritted his teeth, and pulled his hoodie sleeves over his hands to make sweater paws.

“Okay, so we have to find the pH of this first and...” Roman’s mind wandered away from the instructions Virgil was reading off. He ran a hand through his hair. Goodness, this must really have been bad if Anxiety isn’t even hiding that he wants a subject change. I need to mend this. I have to do this right. I can’t just be the person everyone envies and hates. It was never me. And this is how I’ll start to fix my image.

A hand snapped in front of Roman’s face. “Hey! Princey! Pay attention,” Vigil said rolling his eyes at, in the words of Logan, Roman’s incompetence.

“Fine... but we can’t just not talk about this, Virgil. I... I need to know what happened, and Wynne is never gonna tell me. Like a prince, I need to go for peace and make amends,” Roman pleaded, forehead creased. Virgil looked dangerously at Roman and pursed his lips.

“You. Were. There,” Virgil snarled. “Now. pH. Chop chop, this thing won’t react all by itself.”  Roman took a deep breath and complied. There was no way of getting this out of Virgil. He’d have to do something else.

At the end of the day, as students filed out of school, Roman did a rare act of hiding himself among the crowd and blending in for once. He slunk over to Mr. Patton’s classroom, and knocked on the door before entering. Mr. Patton looked up at Roman and smiled.

“What can I do for ya, kiddo? Problems with the homework?” Mr. Patton asked in his ever so kind and caring tone. Roman didn’t say a word as we walked over the table nearest Mr. Patton’s desk at the front of the room, and dragged over a chair to be directly in front of Mr. Patton's desk. Sitting down on the chair, Roman tilted his head ever so slightly, and spoke.

“Mr. Patton, I require some assistance. But not with the homework. I must know, based on the grounds of literature of course, how do characters get others to open up, when they don’t want to open up?” Mr. Patton pushed his glasses up and chuckled.

“What happened this time, Roman?” the elder asked, knowingly shaking his head. And as Roman explained the events that transpired since lunch, Mr. Patton’s smile grew so much softer.

“Hey, Roman. Kid. I’m proud of you. You finally stood up to them. It’s the bravery of a prince. And you can’t force whoever ‘Anxiety’ is to open up to you. You have to let them trust you enough again to tell you,” Mr. Patton said, nodding gently to Roman. The high schooler had been coming to Patton for advice under the presumption of books ever since he took a class with the elder in tenth grade. It wasn’t long until things spilled, and fake names were created for the sake of confidentiality so Roman could get some much needed advice in a quilt free fashion. All that he was going through, all the manipulation, no child should have to deal with that. And Mr. Patton was going to make sure that Roman got out of this okay. Because as a teacher, that was his job: to help his kids.

As Roman left the school that afternoon, and swung the key to his bike lock around his finger, he overheard a hushed conversation that was never meant for his ears.

“Roman’s out. For good. Charlotte, don’t look at me like that, he betrayed us! C’mon Char, he punched me,” Wynne reasoned with the taller girl, convincing her with appeals to her ever so unstable emotions.

“I just- first Nurul, then I mean it was never love for us, but then Virgil, and now Roman? All in such a short span of time? I- I’m starting to think I just shouldn’t be around boys anymore...” Charlotte chuckled weakly, the last stray tears of hers finally drying on her cheeks. Roman looked towards the conversation and that’s when it happened. A confrontation of the ages. A stare down of strength. Wynne’s and Roman’s eyes locked together as Roman continued his path towards the bikes, and Wynne's head turned to follow. The two were intertwined together, never being able to leave the other’s gaze. But when Wynne realized where Roman was heading, a wicked smile shone upon their face. They rushedly took a safety pin out of a pocket of Charlotte’s backpack, making a noncommittal remark of paying her back, and with the precision of a hawk, aimed the pin correctly for it to fly through the air, and pierce the back tire of Roman’s bike with the momentum it gained from the flight.  

Roman blinked, taken aback from this sight. He thought bike tires were stronger, but who even knows with the innovations of today. He stopped looking at Wynne, and turned to his bike instead, examining the damage. If he took the pin out, the air would deflate, but if he left it in, the bike would knock the pin out as the tires rotated. Everything felt like too much. Wynne was too much and Wynne was always there. It was always Wynne.

“WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM? WHY DO YOU RUIN ME? YOU NEVER STOP, WYNNE. WHY?” Roman cried across the mostly empty front entrance of the school. Wynne strutted over to Roman, and took the pin out of the bike.

“Oh, Roman, Roman, Roman. You know why. You were there on that day that our pal Anxiety so loathes,” Wynne put their hands on their hips and looked down at Roman, who was still crouching by his bike tires, and breathing heavily. “Now, why don’t you get out of my sight,” Wynne finished, twirling the safety pin around their fingers. Roman took a steadying breath, unlocked his bike, and walked it out of the school’s front lot. He could’ve been brave. He could’ve been a prince. But... he wasn’t there yet. And Roman didn’t know when he’d ever be chivalrous enough to ever get there.

Chapter 13

Roman >> Virgil

           Is this still your number, Virgil?

           I read over the project and created a schedule of what we can do in class, yet we must still meet up after school, so should I come to your place, or vice versa?

Virgil >> Roman

           Yeah, this is my number.

           I don’t really care, we can do whichever.

Roman >> Virgil

           We can go to mine, then. I’ll meet you by your locker once school is over and we can finish this quickly, as you wish to.

Virgil >> Roman

           Sure

Virgil >> Logan

           [Screenshot.png]

           Why is Roman being so nice?

           Logan, you gotta help me out here. I’m having a crisis!

           Hhhhh, I’m going to go to his house. Ugh, stupid chemistry project, stupid atoms…

           Wait, shit, don't go into a rant about the cool mystery of atoms, normally I’d be up for it, but right now I am in Crisis mode.

Logan >> Virgil

           anx calm down

           do sum breathing

           itll be fine just work fast and get out of there

           my judgement may b wrong but based on evrything u’ve told me and wat ive seen, roman  seems 2 be… remorseful

Virgil sighed and pocketed his phone. He put his head down and listened to the droning history lecture, only needing to look up occasionally to check the map for locations of the cities his teacher mentioned. Everything that was going on in this hate and manipulation triangle of Roman, Wynne, and himself was too stressful, and Virgil could not deal with it. All this drama was like a coil wrapped around his body, winding tighter and tighter with each and every passing thought of the roaches, choking him, restricting his movements, making him fear for how in the hell he was supposed to get out of this alive. Virgil was grateful for one thing: that he still had his wonderful, best friend Logan, but at this point, even Logan's presence didn’t make the coil loosen. Virgil knew it would unwrap once he dealt with everything, but the sheer notion of doing such a thing only made the coil tighten into an unimaginable pain. So Virgil felt it was fully justifiable to blearily rest through class as he slowly dazed off into a light sleep as to avoid his wandering thoughts of the two people who shall not be named.

The next thing Virgil knew, the bell signaling that the last class of the day was over rang. Virgil rubbed his eyes as he carelessly swung his bag over his shoulders. He trudged himself over to his locker even though his legs felt like lead from the sheer dread of this coming afternoon with Roman. Virgil's famous overthinking started, and his mind swam as the crowd pushed him through the hallways. So much could go wrong. So much could get truly and utterly fucked.

Virgil made a standard remark of a greeting to Roman, and tuned out whatever the other was blabbering on about as he collected the books he needed from his locker.

The walk to Roman’s house was relatively silent aside from squealing elementary kids chasing each other, and the chirps of soaring birds; that is, until Roman cleared his throat. Virgil glanced at him and watched the deep breaths Roman was taking as Roman fluttered his eyes closed, then open.

“Virgil, we mustn't let a such a feud stay between us. The tension is unhealthy, and it seems as though a particular event that is the cause of it has obviated me. I want to- No. I need to know what happened,” Roman said, cloaking his uncertainty and self-doubt with a calmer version of the arrogant bravado most saw emanating off of him. Virgil stuffed his hands in his pockets and kicked up some gravel as he kept walking.  He kept his eyes on the ground, and weighed his options. Finally, Virgil opened his mouth.

“I’ll tell you what happened, at least what I know of what happened, but I won’t trust you so easily, because if you ever cared about me in the first place, then something like this wouldn’t slip your mind so easily. Okay?” Virgil muttered, slumping his shoulders. He scratched the back of his neck with uneasy apprehension. Roman nodded solemnly, and Virgil took that as his cue to explicate. He took a deep breath and started.

“Roman, you outed me to the entire school back in ninth grade. You were talking to Wynne, and projecting everything over the speaker system as you told them about how I kissed you. I mean, I obviously denied it, but… AH! How in the hell could you do that?! I trusted you with this knowledge of me being gay and you, you fucking tell the entire school! And then Charlotte tells you're spreading this shit again! What the hell is your deal? Fuck you, Roman. Just stay out of my goddamn way from now on.”

Roman made eye contact with Virgil one last time before the other boy turned around and walked away, and noted the tears falling down his flushed cheek.

A lone breeze ruffled Roman's hair as he stared on at the growing distance between himself and Virgil. Roman didn't know what he expected to hear, but it was definitely nothing like that, because Roman did not know when any of what Virgil said happened, which lead to only one conclusion that was spelled with a W-Y-N-N-E.

Chapter 14

Roman watched Virgil storm off, guilt tugging at his heart, for how could he have let something like this happen? He… he practically ruined Virgil all because he couldn’t stand up for himself against the three figures that so dauntingly loomed over him. Nurul. Charlotte. Wynne. They had Roman wrapped around their finger for years, and now they were gone. For good. And he was to be one of their next victims. Roman never realized this day would come so soon: the day where he lost his immunity from the wrath of the roaches. All he felt now as he stood was regret. Was everything he did worth it if it all came crashing down like this? Should he have stood by his real friends instead of acting like- No. instead of being a cowardly peasant? The next days at school were relatively peaceful. Yes, the tension was so thick it couldn’t even be cut with a knife, but no action was happening yet. It was the calm before the storm, the preparation for the oncoming war. The soldiers on each side readied their ground: Logan and Virgil lied low and stuck to evasive movements, for they were impossible to find; Wynne continued their backhanded compliments and scheming, as they regrouped with their troops as Nurul’s suspension wore off; and Roman dragged a chair over to Mr. Patton’s desk and poured his heart out. “Roman, kiddo, it’s going to be okay, okay?” Mr. Patton sighed wistfully, and gave Roman a comforting smile. Roman slumped his shoulders a tad, giving up his high persona for one he felt fit him better. “I know… I’ll be out of this school and this town soon enough, but,” Roman cracked a weak smile, “I can’t just leave everything like this. It’s not what a prince would do. A real prince would- He wouldn’t be me.” “There’s no use in dwelling in what could’ve been done different. We can’t change the past, but we can change how we are in the present. Forgiveness is hard to achieve, but you’ve wanted it, right?” Mr. Patton claroulisly spoke, making eye contact with Roman that the younger avoided. Roman nodded and stood up. “I- I think I know what I must do now. Thank you Mr. Patton,” he said, shuffling the chair he sat on back to its original position and left the room. Roman started his walk home through the chilly autumn air. He watched as crisp, burnt looking leaves flew away from trees, and turned around. His house was not to be his destination for now. He had something to do. He at least had to do it for Mr. Patton. If he were to disappoint him, then he really could never be a prince.

“Hey, what did you get for number nine of the calculus homework?” Virgil asked, looking across his house’s kitchen table, littered with textbooks and pencils, to Logan, who had already finished. Logan glanced over to his notebook and muttered a “the limit doesn’t exist.” Virgil groaned and scratched out his work to try again. Just then, the doorbell sounded throughout the house, causing Virgil to jump from being startled. He strode over to the door, working on the problem as he walked. When Virgil saw who was at the door, and his pencil and notebook clattered on the floor. “Roman, what the hell are you doing here?” Virgil asked dryly, eyebrow quirked ever so slightly. “I-I’d like to make amends, Virgil,” Roman whispered, eyes downcast. Virgil squinted at Roman. He crossed his arms and leant against the doorframe, looking Roman up and down. “Okay… continue,” Virgil said after about a minute of scrutinizing Roman enough for even him to fidget under Virgil’s gaze. Roman took a deep breath and met his eyes with Virgil’s. “I… I don’t know exactly what I did. I don’t know how I outed you, and I fear it must have been a plot set up by Wynne. But that’s-,” Roman looked to the sky as he scrambled for the right words, “That’s besides the point. Even if I hadn’t known what made you stop talking to me, I should’ve gone to you, and talked to you about it, instead of letting such a- such a rift f-form between us. I shouldn’t have left you, and I want to right that wrong. I shouldn’t have let those, pardon my french, fucking assholes done so much harm to you. I should’ve stopped it, like a prince would do. Nay, like any good person would do, which is why I am here,” Roman finished. Virgil’s mouth was slightly agape. A tumbling tornado of emotions swept through him, and the only thing he could do to stop them from blowing him away was cry. A tear fell out. Then another. And another, and another, until he was full on ugly crying no matter how much he willed himself to stop. Roman’s forehead creased, and he reached out to comfort Virgil but pulled his hand away. He didn’t know if Virgil would like physical contact (from him, especially). “I-I-I’m fi-ne Ro-cey. I-I mean R-Roman. I-I just can’t s-stop cry-ing,” Virgil stammered out, voice cracking like it was middle school. “O-Oh… Um. It’s, uh, totally fine if you don’t want to forgive or trust me. I’m just glad you heard me out,” Roman said, giving a soft smile in the way of Virgil. Virgil smiled back. “I-I accept y-your apology, but I-I don’t forgive you,” Virgil said, and Roman nodded with a smile, and began to tear up with himself. “Same with me!” Logan called out from the table inside, having heard the entire conversation, causing the two teary eyed teens to double over with laughter.

Chapter 15

“Nurul, Nurul, Nurul. What are we going to do with you?” Wynne asked. They folded their hands and pursed their lips as they waited for a response from the boy who had somewhat betrayed the little group of ‘friends’. Charlotte sat beside Wynne on the circular table, chewing her lip, while Nurul sat directly across from the other two. The trio was sitting in a diner, and as Nurul mulled over his options, a basket of curly fries was delivered to the table. Wynne took one and ripped it in half with their teeth. They popped the other half in their mouth, chewed, and swallowed, maintaining an unwavering and unnerving eye contact with Nurul. They gritted their teeth when they finished. “Hm. Well, since you don’t seem to have any suggestions, and you already know what happened to Roman, perhaps, we’ll let you be with us longer. Unless, say, you think Roman was right?” Nurul froze.

“No!” He cleared his throat. “I mean, no, I’m not on Roman’s side.” Wynne crinkled their nose and flashed a tight-lipped smile. Charlotte’s eyes darted between the two.

“Good choice. Because this is your last chance,” Wynne growled. They got up from the table and motioned for Charlotte to come with them. “Enjoy your fries! I know you love them curly,” They exclaimed with fake peppiness as Charlotte and them left the diner.

Unbeknownst to the trio, an edgelord, supposedly named Dennis, was sitting at the table over, listening to every word that was said.

Wynne, Charlotte, and Nurul walked into school together on the following school day. Whispers travelled through the halls fast and far enough for Roman and Virgil to catch wind of them and move away into an empty classroom to continue their atomic discussion for the upcoming chemistry project. However, Logan was dealing with his lab partner away from his friend and his… frenemy, that by the time the gossip reached him, it was too late. Even Virgil’s warning text fueled by the enormous speed of microwaves was too late. Logan caught a glimpse of Nurul in the corner of his eye, and his brain went into overdrive. Adrenaline flooded his body and he was no longer a creature of logic, but one of instinct.

Nurul clapped his hands and got all up in Logan’s space. “Well, well, well, nerd, what do we have here? Are you planning on another virus, because I can take all you got,” he sneered, cracking his knuckles. Logan immediately looked Nurul in the eye, leant against the lockers he was standing next to, and adjusted his glasses.

“There is literally no possible way your dinosaur of a computer that had already been abused enough having to be used by someone as feeble minded as you could handle every virus I could load onto it. Hm. But, perhaps you did not understand what I explicated? Do I need to dumb down my insult?” Feeling like the baddest bitch in the city, Logan was full on smirking by the end of his tirade. Nurul slammed his fist on a locker right beside Logan’s fist.

“Say that again, termagant,” Nurul widened his eyes, “Yeah, I know big words too.” Logan scoffed, and rolled his eyes. Goodness, he was picking up some habits from Anx. He would never have thought to do something like that to his eyes a year ago!

“Nurul… Remember our chat?” Wynne suggested from behind him, hands on their hips. Nurul glared at Logan, but relented, and backed off. He began to walk down a side corridor, when he heard Logan call out to him.

“Wow, I never thought Wynne would have you, as they say, hashtag whipped!” Nurul clenched his fists, but he became the bigger man for the one moment he needed to be, and he kept walking away. Logan dusted his shoulder, readjusted his tie, and right away turned back to his explanation of naturally occurring diatomic molecules and how he and his partner must represent those in their model, even if it wasn’t on the project guidelines. Wynne and Charlotte continued down the hall, not following after Nurul, and everyone who witnessed what just went down, gained a new respect for the badassery of Logan.

Based upon their discussion from the morning, Roman and Virgil decided to once again try and meet up at Roman’s place after school to work on the atomic model they never started. Hopefully, now that they were on better terms, they could actually work and not tank their grades.

At first, they only talked to communicate about their atom’s assembly, but as the two started working on parts of the project that didn’t require much thinking, Roman started to discuss feelings.

“Hey, Virgil, I know I already apologized, but that fight earlier where you got suplexed was brutal, and I just want you to know that I regret not stepping in sooner than when I got Mr. Patton to intervene,” Roman murmured. Virgil narrowed his eyes for a second.

“Wait… Logan told me that after I was suplexed and passed out, he saw someone get Mr. Patton to break up the fight. That was you?” Virgil asked. Roman nodded.

“I know, I never should’ve let Nur-”

“Oh my goodness, Roman, thank you. I- I- I honestly think if no one had intervened at that time Nurul might’ve kept going and hurt us bad,” Virgil admitted. Roman’s eyes widened, and he paused his rote work to face Virgil.

“Really? That already didn’t hurt you bad? Wouldn’t you be concussed from something like that?” Roman was dumbfounded. Virgil bit his lip and decided to steer clear of a concussion discussion seeing as he never actually went to a doctor.

“I mean, I was super bruised up. It was insane, they were everywhere. But... they weren’t bad bruises, there was just, just, a lot of them, but I’m pretty much better now. They’re all gone for the most part, and I’m back to my normal scrawny self,” Virgil finished sarcastically. Roman chuckled lightly. The two went back to chemistry talk, though they were both more at ease, even if only slightly.

When they presented their project in class the following afternoon, the two were able to get a flow and start communicating, for they were able to easily cover for when one of the two didn’t know something. They were constantly veering and intervening the scientific conversation that they were leading, but it wasn’t to throw the other off; instead, it was to make sure they both stayed on course, and the A they received proved that they had.

Chapter 16

Riiing. The jarring sound flooded through the high school letting all the students know it was time for the pandemonium of lunch. As the students left their classes, they began to chat, and Logan and Virgil were no exception.

“Anyway, I told Nurul to copulate with himself, with different words, however. Slang words. I said ‘#whipped’,” Logan recounted, as the two picked up their lunch from the cafeteria.

“Lo, every time you tell Nurul to fuck himself, I become ever fonder of you,” Virgil said, placing a hand over his heart. “And like-” Virgil cut himself off when he started to hear something interesting and poked Logan, so he’d listen too.

“Bro, it’s the sides!”

“Gurl, what?”

“You know? Logan and Virgil? The two people who are actually standing up against Nurul, Wynne, Charlotte, and Roman? Dude, where the hell have you been for the last two weeks?”

“Home sick. You know th-”

“Wait, you’re saying people are calling us ‘the sides’?” Logan asked, walking up to the pair he and Virgil were eavesdropping on. Virgil followed him but shrunk back a little. He had never talked to these people before and he wasn't sure how things would go down. The person who initiated the conversation nodded frantically.

“Bro! You didn't know? Man, everyone's started calling ya guys the sides, cuz you're on the good side, ya know, standing up to the totally not gucci tyranny of Wynne, Roman, Nurul, And Charlotte.”

“I speak seven languages and that was not one of them,” Logan mumbled under his breath. Virgil rubbed the back of his own neck.

“I- I mean, I don’t think Roman is all that bad,” Virgil said strained, scared of the repercussions of his words. “I- I think Wynne hurt him just as much as th- the two of us…” The person the sides were talking to smiled softly and sighed

“Yeah, fam, that's not too surprising. Wynne’s been unradical to everyone.”

“‘S’crazy to think that were not the only ones they've hurt,” Virgil said.

“Yeah… Well, enjoy your meal, then,” the person finished, turning back to their previous conversation.

“You too,” Logan called as the duo walked away.

Reaching their usual lunch table, Logan remarked about the solemnness of the air. Virgil agreed. The two friends, or sides, as they were now known, ate in silence for an eternity until Virgil piped up to share a concern of his.

“Hey, Logan, I think, I might be becoming friends with Roman again, and this is all happening so fast, and we only started speaking last night, but we were really good in the presentation, and and he was the one who called Mr. Patton in to save us when we got in that fight with Nurul and he seems really genuine and I wanna trust him but I dunno what to dooooo,” Virgil ranted. Logan patted Virgil’s hand.

“Anx, breathe. Deep breath. In and out,” Logan explained, breathing exaggeratedly so Virgil could match with him. “You don’t have to do anything yet. You don’t have to decide anything. You can just observe and see what comes of that.” Virgil nodded.

“Yeah, thanks Logan,” Virgil said. “I’ll do that.” The two sides continued their meal in peace. After a while, holding a lunch tray, Roman walked up to the two.

“May I sit here?” he asked tentatively. Logan looked to Virgil who nodded. “Thank you,” Roman said as he sat down. “This may be out of my place, but I think I have an idea of how to stop Wynne.”

“We’re done with that Roman,” Virgil said dryly. “If we stoop to their levels, then they’re the ones who win. We just do things out of self-defense now.” Roman closed his eyes for a moment.

“Then think of it like self-defense. My idea is to use Logan’s skills to put a screen mirroring or listening thing on Wynne’s phone, so we know what they’re going to do. That way we can take preemptive measures to keep ourselves, and, well, everyone else safe.” Virgil stabbed his juice box with the straw and took a long, drawn out slurp out of it. Logan tapped his chin.

“Yes, I can do that,” he said, adjusting his glasses.

“...Do it. But if we go too far, then just, stop,” Virgil decided at last.

Chapter 17

Roman >> Virgil

    Would it be okay if we could talk today after school about Wynne, Nurul, Charlotte, and, well, me?

Virgil >> Roman

    Yeah, surw. Feel free to walk home with me.

Virgil >> Roman

    *sure

Virgil lurked around the exit of the school, staying in the shadows and out of sight until he was able to find Roman.

“Boo,” Roman whispered, appearing in front of Virgil out of seemingly nowhere. Virgil jumped at least a foot in the air and let out an insanely high pitched shriek. All the bustling students looked towards the source of the noise. Feeling all eyes on him, Virgil covered his face with his hands and banged his head against a wall. He groaned.

“Ugh, Princey why did you have t-,” Virgil, wide-eyed, turned to face Roman, “Roman! I meant Roman! N-Not Princey! I meant to say Roman, why did you have to do that,” Virgil panicked, his stomach churning from fearing the impending doom that would be brought upon him by Roman. Roman reached at and held his shoulder, steadying Virgil.

“Virgil. It’s okay. You can call me Princely if you want. I’m- What's got you so worked up over it anyway?” Roman asked.

“Y-You threatened to hit me the last time I called you that?” Virgil squeaked. Roman was aghast.

“Oh no, I would never do that! Goodness, how did this hap-,” Roman narrowed his eyes in a deadly squint, “Wynne! Sorry Virgil, our talks gonna wait, I need to go show Wynne a piece of my mind,” Roman finished, gritting his teeth. Virgil grabbed Roman’s arm as he started to storm off.

“Princey, no. It’s not worth it. They’ll just hurt you more,” Virgil said. Roman sighed.

“Yeah, yeah, let's just head to your house before I do anything regrettable.” Virgil nodded, and began to leave the school with Roman following him. On the street, the two walked in tandem for the few blocks that they needed to travel. The air was a bit chilly and a small gust of wind caused Virgil to shiver slightly. Roman took off his white coat and handed it to Virgil, who simply shook his head and zipped up his own hoodie. Roman just held his coat awkwardly, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort to put it back on.

“So, you wanna talk about the roaches?” Virgil asked, as the two arrived at Virgil’s house, and Virgil unlocked the door. Roman cocked an eyebrow.

“Roaches?” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh, um. It’s what me and Logan would call you guys, ya know. You and Wynne and Charlotte and Nurul…,” Virgil said awkwardly, kicking off his shoes and making his way to a table in the kitchen. Roman did the same.

“Ah. I see. It’s… quite a befitting name for, well, us. For me,” Roman muttered. He looked down on the ground pensively, like he was trying to figure out how he could ever be more than a lowly roach. “I was a terrible person, and as much as I’d like to say ‘Wynne made me do it’, it wouldn’t be right? It would just be an excuse, and I always had the power to stop them.”

“You really didn’t. They manipulated you as much as me. Look at you. You used to be brimming with confidence and now you’re just sad and angry.” A tense silence fell on the two for a couple minutes while Virgil and Roman just stared at each other in thought. “It’s not like you knew most of what they were doing anyway, at least that’s what I’m getting at.” Even with his height and his muscles, Roman never felt so small.

“It still feels wrong. Even indirectly, I hurt people, and that’s not a good thing. I-I hurt you,” Roman said, sighing at the end. Virgil scoffed.

“Yeah, like you even care about me,” Virgil said sardonically.

“Virgil, I do! I really do! And I swear I have no idea what happened to make you think that! Even if I was there, even if I did it, I don’t know what I did!” Roman exclaimed, covering his face with his hands. He took a deep breath and put his hands on the table. “I don’t- It’s like they- Can’t you just-?” Roman was cut off by someone loudly knocking on Virgil’s front door. Virgil went and opened it, and there was Logan, sweaty and panting. He didn’t even explain what was happening as he pushed past Virgil and went straight to his kitchen. He took out so bread and vegetables and made a sandwich, then out it on a plate and gave it to Virgil. Only when he sat down, did he finally catch his breath.

“We have an emergency! I did the hacking thing in Wynne’s phone and I was listening to what they were saying, and, and and they were- Virgil! They’re gonna exploit the fact that you don’t eat, like, at all!”

Chapter 18

Virgil looked at the sandwich. The sandwich looked back. He poked it. According to Newton’s third law, the sandwich poked him back. Virgil banged his against the table and groaned.

“Why do I have to this? Let him exploit the fact… I can’t with this. It’s just, food is like, kinda gross honestly. It feels so weird passing through your body and has weird tastes…,” Virgil complained. Roman got up, opened the fridge, and took out some pasta materials. He poured water in a pot and put it to a boil on the stove, sat back down, and began to eat the sandwich meant for Virgil.

“Uhh… What are you doing?” Logan asked apprehensively. Roman held up a finger as he finished chewing.

“Didn’t you know? That one’s a picky eater. He can’t take anything too extreme,” Roman exclaimed. Virgil’s cheeks flushed lightly and he averted his eyes from the other two.

“Anx?” Logan asked.

“He’s right. I don’t buy school school lunch because there’s just too many flavors and textures and ugh. I just. It’s stupid, really stupid, but I can’t stand it…,” Virgil mumbled, staring at somewhere in between Logan and Roman to avoid their eye contact.

“Virgil, it isn’t stupid. Not at all. You know how your anxious all the time? There’s something called Neophobia. I don’t know too much about it, but it sounds like that,” Logan explained, hoping to make Virgil feel better. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Great, now I’ve got another disorder,” he snarked back at Logan.

“There’s nothing wrong with you!”

“Yes, there is!”

“Listen to me!”

“I’m a mess!”

Roman screeched his chair back and got up from the table, momentarily stopping the argument. He walked over to the pot, poured salt, oil, and dry pasta in, and stirred the pot. He grabbed his phone and played a playlist of Disney songs, whistling to the tune as he cooked. Virgil and Logan kept glaring at each other, but neither said anything to the either. After about ten minutes, when the pasta was ready, Roman put it in a bowl, grabbed a fork and set it in front of Virgil. He muttered a “you’re welcome,” and raised an eyebrow prompting Virgil to take a bite. Reluctantly, Virgil followed through. His face morphed from an expression of disgust to surprise, and he moaned.

“Oh my gosh… this is… mmm…,” Virgil mumbled. “I need a lifetime supply of this.” Roman smiled.

“I’ll text you the recipe, just promise to make this at least once a day?” he asked. Virgil nodded compliantly, digging in. Roman kept eating the sandwich Logan made, and Logan just crossed his arms.

The following morning, Virgil kept his promise, making the pasta and putting it in a thermos to take to school. He smiled as he walked to school and when Logan stopped by his house for the two of them to walk, they both apologized. Well, it was really more like: “Lo, I’m sorry I didn’t listen” and “Anx, I’m sorry you didn’t listen to me,” but Virgil got the intent. Even saying ‘I’m sorry’ in an underhanded way was tough for Logan. During lunch, Logan and Virgil sat down at their usual table, with Roman joining them halfway through the block, and Virgil thought that is he could see Roman smile so innocently, eating would be worth it. After school, while Logan went to the library and Roman to rehearsal, Virgil headed to Mr. Patton’s room.

The door was slightly ajar and Virgil knocked twice. He heard Mr. Patton cry out, “come in!” and so he took his cue and entered. Mr. Patton’s face lit up seeing his student.

“Oh, Virgil. Is there anything I can do to help you?” Patton asked, putting down his red pen and pushing the papers he was grading aside. Virgil chewed his lip for a second.

“Uhh… um… I-I have a question… about a-a book?” Patton smiled.

“Well sure thing, kiddo! Pull up a chair, I’ll help you out!” Virgil did so, and noted the plush bear with a rainbow bow on his teachers desk, and felt just a little safer.

“So, um. There’s this book I’m reading. And in it, there are two characters. One betrayed the other, but they realized that maybe the first wasn’t, like, at fault… A-And so, the second wants to forgive the first, but, but, the second also wants to maybe be friends with the first, but also isn’t sure if he can trust the first… a-and, um-,” Virgil paused. He wasn’t really sure what his made up question for his made up book was going to be. Yet, Mr. Patton knew what Virgil was asking even without an explicit question.

“Well, golly, that sure is a tough situation. There is a very fine distinction between forgiveness and trust. You can forgive someone for their past actions, but forgiveness is used to put yourself at peace, not necessarily the other person. You can absolutely hate or despise someone, but you can still forgive them. Trust, however, is trickier. Trust brings peace to the other person. And only after an establishment of trust, can the two people in your book begin to become friends.”

“B-But how could the second character, um, know if the first really, like, was innocent?”

“Communication. A lot of plot comes from miscommunication, and the characters react based on that in a way that tears them apart, but only once things are cleared up, will things be better.”

“Thank y-you,” Virgil said, pushing the chair he was sitting in back to its original position. After Virgil left the room, Mr. Patton leant back in his chair. This ‘book’ sounded a lot like that situation Roman told him about at lunch. Patton tilted his head. That was it. The person Roman psued’ed as ‘Anxiety’ whenever he’d tell him about his life, was Virgil.

Chapter 19

As he left the high school, Virgil sent out a quick text to Roman.

Virgil >> Roman

Hey, can we talk about what happened the day that I started to despise you that you have no idea what you did?

Roman >> Virgil

Yeah, sure. Rehearsal ends in like half an hour, so I can head over to your place afterwards?

Virgil >> Roman

Sure.

Virgil paced up and down the foyer in his house chewing on his lip. He played with a fidget cube as he walked, trying to figure out what he would say to Roman once he arrived. Maybe he should start with, “We need to talk,” or perhaps, “I don’t wanna hate you anymore,” or he could go even bolder and just say, “Wynne is a grade a dick and I’m pretty sure they caused us to stop being BFFs five-ever,” or, or , he could go with “I’m s-” Knock, knock.

Virgil approached the door, took a deep breath, opened it, and stuttered “I- uh- wh- m- ahhahha… words, you know?”  

“There’s no need for small talk, Virgil, just please tell me what happened that day?” Roman responded. Virgil nodded, took a deep breath, and walked over the kitchen table, pulling out a seat for Roman and sitting across from him. Virgil played with his fidget cube for a little as he waited to get the courage to begin to recount his tale.

Freshman year. March 15th. In fair Florida, we lay our scene. Virgil is sitting alone at lunch, waiting for his best pal Roman to come back from whatever he was working on and to sit with him. He knew things had been awkward ever since he kissed Roman and it turning out Roman wasn’t gay like the theater kid stereotypes said, but he didn’t realize it would cause Roman to avoid so much, even after so much, after their reconciliation! Like yeah, it was high school, and yeah people were awful, and Roman told him about these people named Nurul, Charlotte, and Wynne, and how they kept trying to befriend him, and Roman said he wanted to be nice and try and make friends even if they seemed a lil mean in Virgil’s opinion, but damn, if it didn’t hurt that Roman chose to spend more time with them, rather than Virgil, then Virgil would be lying. But anyway. Princey told him he worried too much, and that he really did care for Virgil, and so for today, by listening to his friend, Virge remained intact.

The PA system clicked on which was quite unusual for lunch unless there was a lockdown drill. Before any noise was sounded, everyone tensed up, preparing to duck under a table and lock the doors. But instead of a “Code red. This is a drill. Code red.” blaring over the speakers, Roman’s voice did. And this wasn’t an announcement for the school musical.

“Okay, fine, it still bothers me a tiny, little, bit that Virgil kissed me, but I’m still his best friend and he’s my best friend, and why would I care that he’s gay! Plus-” and the PA system clicked off. Virgil sat frozen. He couldn’t believe what he heard. His head was spinning. Roman just- He was- Everyone knew . He needed to get out. He was going to hurl. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Everyone was looking at him. No one was looking at him. No, no, no, no, this couldn’t be happening. He stumbled outside the cafeteria, trying to slow his breathing, and ran to the field outside the gym, and curled into himself under a tree. He plugged his headphones into his phone and blasted Crywank at an ear damaging volume. Princey. He. No.

Princey really did hate him, didn’t he?

Roman’s eyes widened. “What the fuck. I-I never did that. I swear, Virgil I never did that! Holy shit. Is this why you stopped talking to me? I wouldn’t talk to me...,” Roman mumbled in a way too fast pace, while breathing at a way too fast pace. “N-No wonder you hate me. How do I have no recollection of this? This never happened? W-Was I brainwashed? Oh my gosh. Dear fuck…”

“Roman?” Virgil asked, tentatively reaching out to touch the other. Roman didn’t respond. He just hit his forehead with his hand.

“Fuck. Wynne. Fucking bullshit piece of crap little snakey as devil what the hell why the fuck but they’re a they’re! Oh my god, Virgil I’m so sorry. I remember what happened March 15th. God, I’m so sorry…” Virgil studied Roman. He opened his mouth but no sound came out at first.

“...What happened?”

Freshman year. March 15th. In fair Florida, we lay our scene. Roman, poor little insecure Roman, was being harassed by these people who didn’t care about him. They wanted him as a status symbol, but that didn’t even make sense! He wasn’t better than anyone else! He was worse. He was, like, the worst. Sure people liked some of the stuff he did, but that didn’t mean he was a good person. Like… like look at how he was to Virgil after that day! He brushed him off as his own confusion started. And he didn’t even have the gall to tell Anx that maybe he feels the same way. That maybe he isn’t as straight as he thought he was. Anyway, this is all that was going through his head while Wynne blabbered to him about needing better friends, and how they’ll be perfect for Roman, and they can do anything together, blah blah blah. Whatever.

“-know that emo shithead is gay,” Wynne said, rolling their eyes. This snapped Roman to paying attention. He promised Anx he wouldn’t tell anyone and Anx never told him he came out so what just happened? Wynne laughed. “Ro, look at me. I use they/them pronouns. You think I can’t sense a lil homosexuality when it’s near me?” Roman shrugged and chuckled nervously. Hopefully Wynne wouldn’t sense it on him. “Oh anyway, look we’re here. This was the place I wanted to show you!” Wynne declared, picking the lock to a teachers only part of the library and holding the door open for Roman.

“I don’t think we should be here…,” Roman mumbled. He didn’t want to be caught somewhere he shouldn’t be.

“Who shoved a stick up your ass? Live a little, man. Don’t be such a tightass,” Wynne said, entering the room and tapping their foot impatiently for Roman to follow. The words stung a little and he didn’t want anymore like that thrown at him, so Roman stepped inside. Wynne smiled, and sat down on the lone table in the small room next to what looked like the mic for the PA system. “Anyway, let’s eat!” Roman nodded and sat down on the floor, eating some soup he put in a thermos in the morning. The pair ate in silence for a couple minutes before Wynne piped up. “So, how’d you find out about the shithead’s sexuality?”

“Oh, well, it’s kinda a long story,” Roman muttered, too scared to defend Virgil’s name after last time.

“We got time. This room is only in use in the mornings anyway.”

“Well we were talking this one day, and, um…”

“And?”

“He kissed me.” Wynne burst out laughing.

“You’re telling me that waste of space kissed your straight ass, and you didn’t, like, beat him up or anything? Damn, straight guys have really changed… I mean who wouldn’t wanna punch that goth little dick, but that would give such a great excuse to do it!” Roman was silently horrified at Wynne’s comments, but he didn’t know what to do.

“I’m still friends with him… he was just a bit confused… I mean, I don’t really care that he did that…” Wynne cocked an eyebrow and subtly pressed a button on the PA microphone that meant it would start transmitting everything spoken in 45 seconds. Wynne smiled. They climbed off the desk, and walked over to Roman, their skirt fluttering as they did so. They bent down, put a finger under Roman’s chin, and pulled it up, so Roman would hold eye contact with Wynne.

“So, you’re telling me that it didn’t bother you at all that you’re best friend, or whatever else mushy ass shit, kissed you?” Click. The mic was on.

“I mean, I guess-” Roman whispered.

“Speak up,” Wynne, whispered back, interrupting Roman.

“Okay, fine, it still bothers me a tiny, little, bit that Virgil kissed me, but I’m still his best friend and he’s my best friend, and why would I care that he’s gay!” Satisfied, Wynne sauntered back over to the desk, and sat on it again, very subtly pressing the off button on the PA system next to him.

“Plus, I-I don’t know if I minded it or anything,” Roman finished.

“Oh, Roman. You left him hanging for how long? A year? And only now you reciprocate his feelings? He’s going to hate you. I bet he already does. I’m pretty sure he hangs out with you out of pity. Maybe he kissed you out of pity, because he didn’t want to be your friend anymore, and in his screwy mind, he thought that would make you hate him, but oh no, you fuCKED IT UP EVEN MORE, RO-RO! you made yourself even closer to him, so I bet, the emo shithead hates you more now. ”

Virgil looked unfazed by Roman’s recollection of March 15th. Wynne was truly fucking despicable. He walked over the Roman, and hugged the softly crying boy. Roman only cried harder.

“Look, I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this, but it’s okay to be gay. It’s okay to be yourself. And no one hates you. In any case, I’d embrace you,” Virgil said rubbing soothing circles in Roman’s back.

The two sat together for a while, neither saying a word, but listening to lofi hip hop beats to recover from their emotionally draining tales. Eventually, Virgil got up and made some green tea for the two of them. Roman shot Virgil a fond smile, and downed it. Once he finished it, Roman got up, stretched, splashed some water on his face and sighed.

“Man, that was cathartic. I feel a lot better now,” Roman declared, smiling. Virgil closed his eyes and breathed.

“Yeah, I think I do too,” he sighed.

and Chapter 20

Soon enough, Logan came over to Virgil’s place, and Roman And Virgil explained what Wynne had been done. Are they crazy? Was Logan’s first reaction and then it was Screw the greater good! They hurt you both badly! Yet Virgil countered that Wynne had hurt Logan equally as bad, and then they argued about the greater good for while. Well, until…

“You know, now that I think about it, Charlotte doesn’t know about this. She is going to be pissed if she finds out,” Roman thought out loud. Virgil and Logan stopped their friendly bickering and turned to Roman.

“So she’s not an evil queer then?” Virgil asked. Roman shook his head.

“I don’t think she ever knew about the horrific stuff Wynne has pulled to other queer people. If she ever found out, I’d fear for Wynne’s life,” Roman supplemented. Logan laughed a little.

“I bet you Wynne’s like the type of queer person who would vote for a conservative political candidate who claims to be pro-gay, and then takes away queer rights,” Logan commented. Virgil shook his head in agreement. Roman tapped his chin.

“I think I want to tell Charlotte,” Roman said. “I’m pretty sure she’s been as manipulated as me. She deserves to know. Plus, honestly, when she’s not around Wynne, she’s a really cool person. I remember her breakup with Rashmi. It was bad, because she had actually tried to be a good partner that time.” Virgil stared at the ground.

“I-I was close by when she broke up with Rashmi. S-She had tried to kiss me? It was weird… I took care of Rashmi she was heartbroken, because she didn’t think Charlotte actually valued the relationship. It was a strange day,” Virgil added. Roman shrugged.

“Even with that, we should still tell Charlotte. It’s only fair. And if she already knows, then we really know if we do need to stay away from her as much as Wynne,” Logan commented.

“But how would we talk to her?” Virgil asked.

“We don’t; Roman does. Huddle up guys, it’s scheming time,” Logan announced.

At lunch the next day, Logan made sure to draw Nurul away from the Wynne and Charlotte’s table by making sure Mr. Patton assigned Nurul and Logan together for classwork that day, and Logan sabotaging their work so they’d have to stay after class during lunch to be able to finish and get the grade they needed. Nurul was fuming, but with Mr. Patton right there, there was nothing Nurul could do. Virgil sat at the table next to the Roaches’ table as a sort of backup. He gave Roman a discreet thumbs up as the princely boy went up the Roaches’ table and sat down, uninvited, and prepared for the worst.

“The fuck are you doing here? Begging for forgiveness?” Wynne spat, cutting into his lunch food just aggressively enough for it to be intimidating. Roman rolled his eyes, and didn’t respond to Wynne in exchange for looking at his phone. He pressed the record button on a sound recorder app, and put the phone face down on the lunch table.

“No, Wynne. I just want to talk with you both,” Roman responded calmly.

“Oh so do you need your pathetic ~boyfriend~ here too to protect ittle wittle Roman?” Wynne asked. Charlotte looked nervously between the two.

“Well, what I want to talk about has to do with Virgil. You see I was thinking about that day you took me to the PA room in the library during lunch in ninth grade, and the things I said there. And I was telling Virgil about that, and he told me you recorded our conversation, and outed Virgil! How could you do that? What kind of person, let alone a fellow queer person to Virgil, does that?” Roman said, not quite-yelling, yet slightly losing his cool. Charlotte froze.

“Wynne, you- what?” Charlotte whispered, voice quavering.

“No! Char, you don’t understand! He’s lying!” Wynne quipped in defense. Overhearing how the conversation was going, Virgil rolled his eyes and grabbed some random person from his grade, and brought them to the Roaches’ table. He asked them what they remembered about Virgil’s coming out, and said that they remembered someone saying it over the PA system, and then Virgil bolting. They then called everyone at the Roaches’ table “weirdos” and went back to their friends.

“See?” Roman said.

“That doesn’t prove anything!” Wynne shouted, pushing they’re chair back and standing up.

“It proves I wasn’t ready! It proves I wasn’t expecting it! And you know very well that I wasn’t! Whatever happened to queer people sticking with each other? We’re supposed to, like, be there for each other and not pull this shit! Like it’s one thing to bully me for any other reason, and it’s another thing for you to bully me because of my sexuality! Go to hell, Wynne Ellis,” Virgil shouted back. There was no way he was letting Wynne get away with this. Looking distraught, Charlotte muttered a quick I’m gonna go and bolted out of the cafeteria. Virgil and Wynne did not stop their death stare match, each waiting for one to make the first move. Roman tapped Virgil’s shoulder.

“We should go. There’s no point in you getting caught up in another fight, even if you’ve healed from the last one. You have healed right?” Roman whispered. Virgil sighed and broke his stare down with Wynne in favor of looking at Roman.

“Yeah, you’re right, let’s go,” Virgil turned around, picked up his things, shot a text to Logan saying that he could finish with Nurul, and left the cafeteria in stride with Roman, leaving a sputtering Wynne behind, “And for the record, yes I am healed, and while Logan did ban from fighting for two weeks after the suplex, it’s been two weeks Roman, so you better watch out,” he teased. Back in the cafeteria, Wynne huffed, and began thinking up ways to bring Virgil down once more.

After school, Logan, Virgil, and Roman met up in the library to post the recording that Roman took. It was quite exposing to Wynne, was proof of Wynne’s assholishery, and was a warning to the other queer kids of Florida. They gave the voice recording captions and started to put it up on school social media: not the official school social media, but the ones run by students that basically everyone followed.

It was time for Wynne’s reputation to go down the drain.

a/n: thank you if you made it this far!! there will be more to come soon! for now, here’s the tag list

Prinxiety @221biotchplease @a-blog-just-for-sanders @ace-of-hufflepuffs @ace-v-p-d @acrobaticcatfeline @alextheodd @all-these-trees-stealing-mah-o2 @allaboutme7 @allthemetalsoftherainbow @alyssadashrub @anastasialestina @angeliclogan @angered-turtle @anony-phangirl @anxious-darkwolf @anyay666 @aph-roma @areyousirius-noheisdead @asalwayss @AskolotlQuestions @asterias-confused-writings @baileystarsketches @the-incedible-sulk @blaikleethepanagender @blazeimagines101 @bluebellie01 @candiukas @captain-loki-xavier @catsandrandomness @chillingintent @cinderlunarcyborg @cinquefoilelove @clueingforblogs @completelyclevername @confinesofpersonalknowledge @crankywhenprovoked @datonerougecookeh @deadinsidebutliving @deathbyvenusftw @deep-ocean-blues @dementeddracon @depressed-alone @devastate-my-space @didsomeonesayyoutube122 @do-rey-me @dreamerhowelll @dudlebuggs @elder-jeremiah @elvishfrenchassassin @emokittenlikesgore @emovirgil @emphoenixcat @erlenmeyertrashofsandersides @evilmuffin @faacethefacts @fabulousfanaticfander @thats-so-crash @fairly-close @faithhopefelony @fanatic564 @fandergecko @fangirlsanonymous @fireflightyt @funsizedgremlin @gamerzylo @gayrobotalien @grey-lysander @hanramz-the-fander @heythereprincey @hi-disappointed-im-daughter @hissesssss @hoodie-bros @hottopicvirge @runyou-cleverboy-andremember @imaflashcard @inkyoo @inkyroo @iris-sanders-athena @ive-given-up-on-it @jade-dragon226-fan @jaybingu @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @just-another-transblog @justmyshitandmoreshit @k9cat @katatles-the-fish @kentato-kenart @kickassking14 @kirsten-the-freak @koalaaquabear @kurna-kovite @l-i-t-vocabcards @lacandra @lacrimosathedark @lana–22 @lockolocka @logically-sided @louisthewarlock @madelynnaa @magicmapleleaf @makemeaplant @makemeaplant @maximum-fander @mercythemermaids-blog @micha-like-you-find-in-rocks @microsoft-nerd @migraine-marathon @milomeepit @minamishipsit @mollycassmith @moonlightinwater @multi-fandom-trash-x9000 @muontsy2 @musicphanpie-b @musicsavedmefromdeath @mydogsaresofuckingstupid @neko-ereri-art @nightmarejasmine @notallpotatoesarefrenchfries @nottodaylogic @notveryglittery @nuttytheorizer @nymphaedoratonks @ocotopushugs @on-lock-like-attica @osnapitzbc @pandagirl0730 @panicatthefalloutphanficfandom @pansexual-cat @pastel-patton123 @pattykrabbies @pearls-of-patton @fricksonsticks @phanic-at-the-malfoys @pieces-of-annedrew @pinkeasteregg @planetsanders @potterlover394 @poundland-twoface @prinxietypreoccupied @proudhufflepuff @prplzorua @purplesatankittycat @radioactivebread @rainbow-beaniegirl @ray-rambles @reba-andthesides @redundant-statements-for-400 @roaring--20s @robanilla @roman-is-a-gay @rose-gold-roman @royallyanxious @rptheturk @ruuworld @samidaboss3 @sanders-fam-ily @sanders-sides-things @sanders-trash-4ever @sanderssides-deathangel @saphirestrike @sarcastic-anxious @sassy-in-glasses @save-dirk-gently @sesame-icecream @shygirl4991 @silversunshine2012 @siriuswhiskers @smokeyrutilequartz @smollestsinnamonroll @space-d0ubt @spacenerrrd @the-feels-are-coming @spoonfullofcrofters @starlightlogan @starry-eyed-haiku-dreamer @stars-in-mine-eyes @stormblessedcastiel @storytellerofuntoldlegends @strangerthings-and-phan @superfandertrashbros @superintrovertfangirl @thatonenerdtm @the-optimism-of-the-ostriches @the-prince-and-the-emo @theanxietyofbeinganxious @thecrimsoncodex @thegirlwiththedragonheart @thenerdycube @thepusheenqueen @theroyalramen @thesilentbluesparrow @theworldismysupernova @theworldismysupernova @thisisshien @thomas-must-get-to-sleep @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @too-precious-to-process @too-random-for-me @toujours-fidele @trashfireiplier @trashypansexual @tree4life25 @unknownsandersfan @urtrashhq @v-blue-writer @vampyrsarah @virgilisaneternalmood @virgils-anxiety @virgils-hoodie @voices-and-stardust @vulnerablevirgil @watch-me-introvert @weird-short-person @whyamihereohwell @wowimanerdblr @yamiaainferno @yonnie-boy @yourmomsafalsehood @l-i-t-vocabcards @enderperson43 @houseplxnthoodie @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @nicoandtheninegalaxies @beetlequail @katie-the-noble-fangirl @johnlockandrarry @mildly-entertaining-fiasco

[raendown]

My very first commission story! I went a little over what you paid for @uintuva but that right there is my own fault. I got excited! :p

I had this formatted to look so nice in Word and forgot that I only have limited functions on AO3/tumblr. How rude. 

Pairing: TobiramaKakashi Rated: G Word count: 2540 Summary: Kakashi takes shelter from a freak blizzard in a cave that looks relatively harmless. What he finds within is anything but.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the blog header!

Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost

Kakashi’s fingers swirled through the air absently as he peered around the inside of the cave. Most people didn’t have the imagination to think you could do anything with lightning magic other than the obvious use of shooting bolts of it around willy-nilly. People with an actual brain in their head – people like him – were able to find other ways to utilize the gifts they had been born with. Sure it would have been much easier to warm himself in this surprise blizzard if he had been a fire wielder but he had made due in the past with his lightning and he would survive again with it now.

Separating the heat from his lightning was a delicate business but it was a trick he had learned to do when he was barely in to his double digits and it took very little of his attention, leaving him free to scout the unexpectedly spacious area in search of wood. Magic could only keep him warm for as long as he was awake to maintain it, after all. Kakashi was many things but a master of runes he was not.

To his dismay, however, there was precious little wood to be found, barely enough to scrape together a small mound that would probably sputter out before he managed to fall asleep if he lit it now. With a sigh he hunkered down and prepared to stay awake for as long as he could before lighting it. Hopefully the worst of the snow would have abated by tomorrow; staying awake half the night to keep himself warm would leave his magic stores seriously depleted, which would make staying here another night dangerous indeed.

He was kicking at his pitiful collection of sticks when he dropped his head back against the wall of his shelter and let his eyes stare aimlessly upwards, only to narrow them in interest. Why was the ceiling covered in scratch marks?

Actually once he looked a little closer they weren’t scratch marks at all. Gouged in to the rock, protected by a thick layer of accumulated ice, the entire ceiling was covered with ancient sigils. The closer he looked the more mesmerizing he found them. Whatever hand had carved them was steady and artistic with an eye for beauty, confident and bold. Not a single stroke was out of place in any of them and each sat a perfect equal distance from the others around it. It was beautiful.

It was glowing.

Kakashi jolted and scrambled to regain his feet when he realized that the sigils had slowly begun to gather a soft blue light while he sat there staring mindlessly. He’d had enough encounters with the weird runes that Obito sometimes dug out of his massive family treasury to know that glowing was not a good thing, glowing usually meant that one should begin running quickly and immediately. And he did try. His sad little attempt at preparing a fire scattered when he crashed through it hurrying towards the entrance, ignoring the sound of wood cracking underfoot as he reached the entrance only to be thrown back when he encountered an invisible barrier.

“Maa,” he mumbled under his breath. “That can’t mean anything good.” Banging a fist against the barrier proved it to be solid so he turned around and swept his eyes from side to side as he tried to figure out what was going on. A trap of some sort, perhaps, meant to capture unwary travelers. What for he didn’t know.

His ruminations didn’t get much farther than that. All thoughts in his head jangled to a terrified halt when he heard something rumble from deeper within the cavern, down the dark passageway that he hadn’t explored because it somehow hadn’t even registered on his mind. Now that his attention was drawn to it he realized he hadn’t even seen it until now. Only seriously powerful magic could have concealed something as massive as a giant tunnel from his senses, keener than most as they were.

Swallowing thickly and pressing back against the barrier, Kakashi prayed to the Five Temples as he watched the shadows in the passageway shift and sway. There was something massive hiding in there and it had clearly noticed him. And he just as clearly had no way to escape it. Suddenly he regretted leaving behind that ‘emergency teleportation rune’ that Obito had tried to press on him before he left home. It hadn’t seemed safe at the time – most of Obito’s gifts weren’t even if they were always well intended – but at the moment even getting caught in the void between spaces seemed like a better option than getting eaten by whatever the fuck was about to come out of that darkness.

“YOU SMELL OF HUMAN.” The voice rumbled through his very skull when it spoke and Kakashi could not have said how exactly he knew but immediately he became aware of three things: the creature was a male, he was ancient, and he was more curious than angry at being disturbed. None of that managed to completely abate the fear clutching at his chest though.

“Makes sense,” he murmured in to the cold air. “I was human last time I checked.”

“WITH A SENSE OF HUMOR IN THE FACE OF DANGER. HOW NOVEL.”

Kakashi resisted the urge to pull nervously at his collar. In part because it would only make his fear even more obvious to a creature who could probably smell it on him and in part because doing so would dislodge his tightly wound scarf. He didn’t want to die cold, after all.

“TELL ME, WHAT BRINGS YOU TO MY NEST, LITTLE ONE?”

“Well you know...if not warmer it just sort of seemed…less cold in here. Just trying to survive and what not. And what reason have you to, uh, kill me? Any chance I could…talk you out of that?” He offered a winning smile before realizing that it was covered by the scarf pulled up over half of his face.

Smoke drifting out from the shadows. Or rather, he realized after a moment, not smoke but steam, massive white clouds of hot breath steaming in the cold air as the creature chuckled with a rumbling sound he would have compared to rock grinding together thousands of feet beneath the earth. He wasn’t sure where that comparison came from but once the thought was there he couldn’t shake it.

He staggered a moment later when the ground shifted under him, shaking with the force of massive footsteps as the creature moved at last. When he looked up the shadows were just parting and his first impression was of white purer than snow could ever hope to be. Millions upon millions of glittering scales covered the sinuous body, all lean muscle and graceful movements despite his size. His eyes were the same deep red as one of Kakashi’s own, the same as the three slashes equally spaced around his snout which also matched to the line going down Kakashi’s face, and if not for the ceiling of the cavern being so low it was clear that his head would been held three times the height with pride.

“Well aren’t you something,” Kakashi breathed, only half aware he’d said anything. The dragon parted its lips to reveal fangs as thick as his arm and just as long. Steam rushed out in another rumbling chuckle but when he spoke his jaw moved not at all.

They were speaking in each other’s minds.

“YOU DO NOT HAVE THE MARK OF DEATH, HUMAN.” Between one step and the next his form began to shift, shrinking and changing shape, until within moments there was only a human man striding across the snow clad in nothing but mere wisps of cloth draped loosely around him to preserve little more than his modesty, held in place with what looked like his own scales. When he spoke this time it was at a much more normal volume – but it was still only inside their heads. “You are marked for something far more precious than that.”

“Ah, you’ll have to forgive me if that just sounds more ominous.” Kakashi chewed on his bottom lip as he watched the dragon in human form cover the last few inches between them, grinning to reveal that his teeth were still just as sharp in this body.

“I will not hurt you. Tell me your name.”

“Maa, will you talk normally if I do? Can you talk normally?” The creature looked more amused than offended, giving him the confidence to go on. “You just…it’s weird, your mouth not moving when you say something.”

Nodding, the creature tilted its head to look at him from another angle. Something about his eyes made Kakashi feel as though he were being pursues despite the fact that they were both standing completely still. Even stranger, the thought sent a thrill down his spine that was either fear or excitement and he couldn’t tell which.

“My name is Kakashi,” he said, adding a curious lilt to the last word in the hope that his possible doom might return the favor in kind.

“Kakashi,” the dragon creature rolled his name through his mouth as though tasting each syllable. “Welcome, Kakashi. My name is Tobirama and by ancient rites you have been marked.”

That certainly didn’t sound like anything good.

“Marked how? By what?”

He nearly leapt out of his skin when the creature, Tobirama, lifted a hand and brushed the side of his face with one finger tipped by a nail that tapered in to something more like a claw. This time when he felt the sensations sparking through him he recognized one that had absolutely no place in this encounter, something that hadn’t plagued him outside of his favorite forbidden novels in a long time. Why in the Temples’ names he should find this beast attractive was beyond him but by the Sage he did.

“Okay. Touching. Sure. Any chance we could get back to the part where you said I was marked? By what exactly? For what purpose?”

“To be mine,” Tobirama told him, teeth bared eyes shining with a dangerous sort of satisfaction. He peeled Kakashi’s scarf down with the tip of one claw and cupped his cheek. Then something in the air grew bright and close and in the next moment they were gone from the cave – or rather they had reappeared in what looked like a different part of what must have been an entire system of caves.

Usually it took several hours of preparation and the right combination of crystals to complete a teleportation spell and here it had been done without any of that, not so much as a single gesture or word, seemingly with barely even a thought. Kakashi would have been boggled if he hadn’t been so distracted with his new location.

So this is a dragon’s den, was all he could think. Above him the ceiling was coated in glittering ice protecting the same web of glowing sigils, blue and white and so beautiful it made him ache to look at them. The room they were in was massive and yet mostly filled with a bed that could have easily fit a fully grown dragon. It was a wonder when he found himself pushed down on to one edge of the mattress only to feel the surface under him as soft and springy as though it had never cradled a creature three times the size of a house. More magic at work, undoubtedly.

He was just thinking of how he wasn’t sure how many more surprises his poor heart could take when Tobirama pressed him down and gracefully spread out across his lap like a great white cat. Or perhaps a very small dragon, as it were. Kakashi held his arms out awkwardly until Tobirama huffed and drew them back in to set them atop his own head.

“Maa…so when you said…yours…”

“Mine,” Tobirama rumbled without moving or opening his eyes, a languid grin of satisfaction practically taking up his whole face. “My mate, come to me after all the years of lonely waiting. You are late but I will forgive you this transgression.”

“How kind of you,” Kakashi mumbled faintly. “Am I stuck here?”

Tobirama opened one eye to watch him very carefully. “Is the thought abhorrent to you?”

Something in his tone had changed, for the first time afflicted with the slightest hint of uncertainty, and as they stared at each other Kakashi recalled his vague memories of the elective he had taken at the University where he studied his lightning abilities, the class on ancient beasts that he had chosen on a whim. Kushina-sensei loved kitsune above all else but even she had spoken in a reverent tone when teaching them all she could of dragons. The one lesson that came back to him with sudden clarity was that dragons, like many other mythical beasts of unknown origin, had very complicated yet very sacred mating rituals.

Watching the tension slowly grow in Tobirama’s shoulders even as he remained deceptively at ease, Kakashi determined that this creature who could tear him limb from limb without effort was actually nervous for his opinion. Tobirama wanted him to stay. More than that, he wanted Kakashi to want to stay. Something in his deep magic had told him that Kakashi was the one he had been waiting for – presumably for decades, dragons’ lifespans were unbelievable – but no matter how ingrained his own instincts were he could not force them upon a human.

Probably the most important decision of his entire life, this should have been something he asked for a little time to think about. He had always been someone who showed up late and jumped in with both feet though.

“Are you going to sleep on me like this a lot?” he asked. Tobirama blinked once before the tension released and his entire body began to rumble with a purring noise.

“Yes. All dragons slumber upon their most treasured possessions.”

“Well isn’t that sweet.”

Tobirama snorted and Kakashi dared to pet the hair that his hands had been forcefully set upon. He was rewarded with an even louder rumbling purr, almost enough to echo off the walls in this great cavern. It was lucky, he supposed, that he hadn’t been on any sort of official errand. Asuma would forgive him if he happened to show up late for his visit. He could always claim the weather had held him back and he wouldn’t exactly be lying.

He wondered if Tobirama would be open to going out in to the world with him. Either way, life as a dragon’s partner sounded like a grand new adventure. Kakashi closed his eyes and laid back on the furs underneath them with his fingers still idly carding through his companion’s beautiful hair. He was just happy to have stumbled upon this adventure without having to go look for it.

[fangirlmomentsandmytwocents]

Misdemeanor by CF White Release Blitz

Buy Links:  Pride Publishing (Early Download) Amazon US | Amazon UK (Out July 4) Length: 77,579 words Publisher: Pride Publishing Blurb

After his mother tragically dies and his deadbeat father goes off the rails, nineteen-year-old Micky is left to care for his disabled little brother, Flynn.

   Juggling college, a dead end job and Flynn's special needs means Micky has to put his bad boy past behind him and be the responsible adult to keep his brother out of care. He doesn't have time for anything else in his life.

Until he meets Dan.

"Amazingly gritty and raw. This slice of life is so realistic it flays you." - Pride Publishing

Excerpt

The Sun Keeps Rising “Shit!” Micky cursed loudly and squinted through the morning glare to read the alarm clock that was obviously having trouble performing its one and only basic function. He threw off his duvet and jumped out of bed, his foot landing on a plastic wind-up toy penguin discarded on the floor. The penguin openly mocked him by tossing itself into a noisy backflip. “Fuck!” Micky cursed again, bending down to pick up the toy and throw it savagely against the wall. It shattered into a million pieces and Micky felt instantly guilty. “Flynn!” he yelled, hopping over to his bedroom door and yanking it open. Treading more carefully to the bathroom opposite, he rubbed his eyes before coming face-to-face with himself in the mirror above the sink. He looked like shit. No change there. The three hours of almost sleep he’d gotten obviously hadn’t done anything to improve on his disheveled appearance. He ran a hand over the stubble on his chin. He needed to shave but now didn’t have the time. Micky turned on the tap, dunked his head under the cold stream and squeezed paste onto his toothbrush. “Flynn!” he shouted again, louder this time, before shoving the toothbrush into his gob and brushing vigorously. The minty taste did nothing for his dry mouth. “Yes, Micky,” came a quiet little voice from the bathroom doorway. Still holding the toothbrush between his lips, foam dripping out from the side of his mouth, Micky turned. “We’re late,” he said, trying to suck the minty drool back up and stop it escaping from the corners. “I’m dressed,” Flynn replied with a huge proud smile. Flynn stood in the doorway, clutching another wind-up plastic toy. He kept spinning the thing around, setting off an ear-piercing buzz as it unwound at double speed. He appeared so small and fragile. More like a five-year-old than his actual eight years. He’d gotten dressed. Sort of. He’d managed to pull on his gray school trousers over his pajama bottoms and his army-green jumper clung inside out. No socks, and his mousy-brown curls stuck out from his head in all directions. Micky’s heart melted a little at the sight. “Well done, Flynn.” Micky finished brushing his teeth, spat down the plughole and cupped a handful of water into his mouth to rinse. Turning back to his brother, Micky then crouched in front of him. “But how about we try taking the pajamas off?” Flynn looked down, waggling his toes, and back up at his big brother. “Why?” he asked, confused. “I put them back on later.” Micky laughed. The kid had a point. “Come on.” Micky took hold of Flynn’s hand to walk him back into the small box room. It had twin beds, pushed up against opposite sides. One had used to belong to Micky before he’d moved into the master bedroom. “What time did you get up today?” Micky asked, dragging Flynn’s jumper over his head. “Five five two,” Flynn replied. He wound up the blasted plastic toy again and Micky breathed in deeply, preventing his immediate instinctive reaction to take the thing and smash it against the wall in comradeship with its penguin mate. “That’s early,” Micky said, pulling off Flynn’s pajama top then rooting around in the drawer for his brother’s school polo shirt. He found it scrunched at the bottom and helped Flynn squirm into it while trying to smooth out the creases. “For what?” Flynn asked, holding on to Micky’s shoulder as he knelt and stepped out of his trousers. “Everything,” Micky replied with a yawn. “Daddy didn’t say it was.” Micky looked into Flynn’s blue eyes. The white starburst pattern within them gave him the feeling of being hypnotized. Micky blinked. “Dad’s not here, Flynn,” Micky said slowly, standing to inspect his now school-uniform-clad little brother. “Yes, he is.” Flynn smiled widely, his plastic toy buzzing in his hands. Micky stared down at for a brief moment, then spun around and ran full pelt down the stairs and into the living room. The place was dark and dank, stinking of booze and fags with beer cans littering the floor. Micky yanked open the curtains to witness the disgusting figure sprawled on the sofa. Tatty stonewashed denim jeans bagged around his knees and the T-shirt he wore, once white in color, was stained yellow with patches of Micky didn’t want to know what. His greasy, graying hair hung around his face like rats’ tails. He was snoring and every breath out from his wide-open mouth filled the room with a putrid stench. Micky kicked at the arm dangling off the sofa. The man grumbled but didn’t move. Micky kicked him again, more fiercely. Opening one eye, the brute belched as he squinted through the glaring sunlight. “Get the fuck out,” Micky demanded. The laughter that followed made Micky’s skin crawl, along with the irritating scratching of fingernails across the man’s chest. The shirt rubbed against the curly dark hairs scattering his fat body and made the unbearable scraping of nails down a chalk board. “Now,” Micky growled. The grunted response wasn’t something Micky could decipher, nor did he care to. Micky watched with contempt as he rolled off the sofa and landed on the floor with a thump. Several beer cans crunched under his heavy frame and he rolled again to push up on to all fours. Grunting once more, he heaved himself to stand. He tripped on his own feet and clutched at the wall. Micky clenched his fists at the ready as the second loud belch blasted out and Micky had to turn away from the oncoming stink. “Money,” he demanded, holding out a hand. “Get fucked,” Micky spat back. “Then I take his.” He staggered over to the fireplace mantelpiece and made a grab for the handmade clay moneybox shaped like a car. Micky wrapped firm fingers around his wrist and squeezed tightly. “Over my dead body.” Micky gritted his teeth. Clutching the wrist harder, he used his other hand to root around in the dirty jeans pocket and yanked out a key. Shaking his head, Micky shoved him away. “Now leave, before I fucking kill you.” “Micky?” Flynn’s delicate little voice squeaked from the living room door. He clung to the plastic toy still in his hand, his eyes tightly shut. Micky ran over, picked him up and settled him on his hip. For an eight-year-old, Flynn weighed no more than a couple of stone, his body skin and bones. It wasn’t his fault. It was the condition. Flynn rested his head on Micky’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his big brother’s neck, still clamping his eyes shut. “It’s okay, Flynn. Dad’s leaving now.”

Author Bio

Brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail—leave. Studying at a West London university, she realised there was a whole city out there waiting to be discovered, so, much like Dick Whittington before her, she never made it back home and still endlessly searches for the streets paved with gold, slowly coming to the realisation they’re mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of staring at them vacantly whilst holding a polystyrene cup of watered-down coffee. She eventually moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family. Having worked in Higher Education for most of her career, a life-altering experience brought pen back to paper after she’d written stories as a child but never had the confidence to show them to the world. Having embarked on this writing malarkey, C F White cannot stop. So strap in, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride... Website Twitter Facebook

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Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents

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[fangirlmomentsandmytwocents]

Misdemeanor by CF White Release Blitz

Buy Links:  Pride Publishing (Early Download) Amazon US | Amazon UK (Out July 4) Length: 77,579 words Publisher: Pride Publishing Blurb

After his mother tragically dies and his deadbeat father goes off the rails, nineteen-year-old Micky is left to care for his disabled little brother, Flynn.

   Juggling college, a dead end job and Flynn's special needs means Micky has to put his bad boy past behind him and be the responsible adult to keep his brother out of care. He doesn't have time for anything else in his life.

Until he meets Dan.

"Amazingly gritty and raw. This slice of life is so realistic it flays you." - Pride Publishing

Excerpt

The Sun Keeps Rising “Shit!” Micky cursed loudly and squinted through the morning glare to read the alarm clock that was obviously having trouble performing its one and only basic function. He threw off his duvet and jumped out of bed, his foot landing on a plastic wind-up toy penguin discarded on the floor. The penguin openly mocked him by tossing itself into a noisy backflip. “Fuck!” Micky cursed again, bending down to pick up the toy and throw it savagely against the wall. It shattered into a million pieces and Micky felt instantly guilty. “Flynn!” he yelled, hopping over to his bedroom door and yanking it open. Treading more carefully to the bathroom opposite, he rubbed his eyes before coming face-to-face with himself in the mirror above the sink. He looked like shit. No change there. The three hours of almost sleep he’d gotten obviously hadn’t done anything to improve on his disheveled appearance. He ran a hand over the stubble on his chin. He needed to shave but now didn’t have the time. Micky turned on the tap, dunked his head under the cold stream and squeezed paste onto his toothbrush. “Flynn!” he shouted again, louder this time, before shoving the toothbrush into his gob and brushing vigorously. The minty taste did nothing for his dry mouth. “Yes, Micky,” came a quiet little voice from the bathroom doorway. Still holding the toothbrush between his lips, foam dripping out from the side of his mouth, Micky turned. “We’re late,” he said, trying to suck the minty drool back up and stop it escaping from the corners. “I’m dressed,” Flynn replied with a huge proud smile. Flynn stood in the doorway, clutching another wind-up plastic toy. He kept spinning the thing around, setting off an ear-piercing buzz as it unwound at double speed. He appeared so small and fragile. More like a five-year-old than his actual eight years. He’d gotten dressed. Sort of. He’d managed to pull on his gray school trousers over his pajama bottoms and his army-green jumper clung inside out. No socks, and his mousy-brown curls stuck out from his head in all directions. Micky’s heart melted a little at the sight. “Well done, Flynn.” Micky finished brushing his teeth, spat down the plughole and cupped a handful of water into his mouth to rinse. Turning back to his brother, Micky then crouched in front of him. “But how about we try taking the pajamas off?” Flynn looked down, waggling his toes, and back up at his big brother. “Why?” he asked, confused. “I put them back on later.” Micky laughed. The kid had a point. “Come on.” Micky took hold of Flynn’s hand to walk him back into the small box room. It had twin beds, pushed up against opposite sides. One had used to belong to Micky before he’d moved into the master bedroom. “What time did you get up today?” Micky asked, dragging Flynn’s jumper over his head. “Five five two,” Flynn replied. He wound up the blasted plastic toy again and Micky breathed in deeply, preventing his immediate instinctive reaction to take the thing and smash it against the wall in comradeship with its penguin mate. “That’s early,” Micky said, pulling off Flynn’s pajama top then rooting around in the drawer for his brother’s school polo shirt. He found it scrunched at the bottom and helped Flynn squirm into it while trying to smooth out the creases. “For what?” Flynn asked, holding on to Micky’s shoulder as he knelt and stepped out of his trousers. “Everything,” Micky replied with a yawn. “Daddy didn’t say it was.” Micky looked into Flynn’s blue eyes. The white starburst pattern within them gave him the feeling of being hypnotized. Micky blinked. “Dad’s not here, Flynn,” Micky said slowly, standing to inspect his now school-uniform-clad little brother. “Yes, he is.” Flynn smiled widely, his plastic toy buzzing in his hands. Micky stared down at for a brief moment, then spun around and ran full pelt down the stairs and into the living room. The place was dark and dank, stinking of booze and fags with beer cans littering the floor. Micky yanked open the curtains to witness the disgusting figure sprawled on the sofa. Tatty stonewashed denim jeans bagged around his knees and the T-shirt he wore, once white in color, was stained yellow with patches of Micky didn’t want to know what. His greasy, graying hair hung around his face like rats’ tails. He was snoring and every breath out from his wide-open mouth filled the room with a putrid stench. Micky kicked at the arm dangling off the sofa. The man grumbled but didn’t move. Micky kicked him again, more fiercely. Opening one eye, the brute belched as he squinted through the glaring sunlight. “Get the fuck out,” Micky demanded. The laughter that followed made Micky’s skin crawl, along with the irritating scratching of fingernails across the man’s chest. The shirt rubbed against the curly dark hairs scattering his fat body and made the unbearable scraping of nails down a chalk board. “Now,” Micky growled. The grunted response wasn’t something Micky could decipher, nor did he care to. Micky watched with contempt as he rolled off the sofa and landed on the floor with a thump. Several beer cans crunched under his heavy frame and he rolled again to push up on to all fours. Grunting once more, he heaved himself to stand. He tripped on his own feet and clutched at the wall. Micky clenched his fists at the ready as the second loud belch blasted out and Micky had to turn away from the oncoming stink. “Money,” he demanded, holding out a hand. “Get fucked,” Micky spat back. “Then I take his.” He staggered over to the fireplace mantelpiece and made a grab for the handmade clay moneybox shaped like a car. Micky wrapped firm fingers around his wrist and squeezed tightly. “Over my dead body.” Micky gritted his teeth. Clutching the wrist harder, he used his other hand to root around in the dirty jeans pocket and yanked out a key. Shaking his head, Micky shoved him away. “Now leave, before I fucking kill you.” “Micky?” Flynn’s delicate little voice squeaked from the living room door. He clung to the plastic toy still in his hand, his eyes tightly shut. Micky ran over, picked him up and settled him on his hip. For an eight-year-old, Flynn weighed no more than a couple of stone, his body skin and bones. It wasn’t his fault. It was the condition. Flynn rested his head on Micky’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his big brother’s neck, still clamping his eyes shut. “It’s okay, Flynn. Dad’s leaving now.”

Author Bio

Brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail—leave. Studying at a West London university, she realised there was a whole city out there waiting to be discovered, so, much like Dick Whittington before her, she never made it back home and still endlessly searches for the streets paved with gold, slowly coming to the realisation they’re mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of staring at them vacantly whilst holding a polystyrene cup of watered-down coffee. She eventually moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family. Having worked in Higher Education for most of her career, a life-altering experience brought pen back to paper after she’d written stories as a child but never had the confidence to show them to the world. Having embarked on this writing malarkey, C F White cannot stop. So strap in, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride... Website Twitter Facebook

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Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents

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[fangirlmomentsandmytwocents]

Misdemeanor by CF White Release Blitz

Buy Links:  Pride Publishing (Early Download) Amazon US | Amazon UK (Out July 4) Length: 77,579 words Publisher: Pride Publishing Blurb

After his mother tragically dies and his deadbeat father goes off the rails, nineteen-year-old Micky is left to care for his disabled little brother, Flynn.

   Juggling college, a dead end job and Flynn's special needs means Micky has to put his bad boy past behind him and be the responsible adult to keep his brother out of care. He doesn't have time for anything else in his life.

Until he meets Dan.

"Amazingly gritty and raw. This slice of life is so realistic it flays you." - Pride Publishing

Excerpt

The Sun Keeps Rising “Shit!” Micky cursed loudly and squinted through the morning glare to read the alarm clock that was obviously having trouble performing its one and only basic function. He threw off his duvet and jumped out of bed, his foot landing on a plastic wind-up toy penguin discarded on the floor. The penguin openly mocked him by tossing itself into a noisy backflip. “Fuck!” Micky cursed again, bending down to pick up the toy and throw it savagely against the wall. It shattered into a million pieces and Micky felt instantly guilty. “Flynn!” he yelled, hopping over to his bedroom door and yanking it open. Treading more carefully to the bathroom opposite, he rubbed his eyes before coming face-to-face with himself in the mirror above the sink. He looked like shit. No change there. The three hours of almost sleep he’d gotten obviously hadn’t done anything to improve on his disheveled appearance. He ran a hand over the stubble on his chin. He needed to shave but now didn’t have the time. Micky turned on the tap, dunked his head under the cold stream and squeezed paste onto his toothbrush. “Flynn!” he shouted again, louder this time, before shoving the toothbrush into his gob and brushing vigorously. The minty taste did nothing for his dry mouth. “Yes, Micky,” came a quiet little voice from the bathroom doorway. Still holding the toothbrush between his lips, foam dripping out from the side of his mouth, Micky turned. “We’re late,” he said, trying to suck the minty drool back up and stop it escaping from the corners. “I’m dressed,” Flynn replied with a huge proud smile. Flynn stood in the doorway, clutching another wind-up plastic toy. He kept spinning the thing around, setting off an ear-piercing buzz as it unwound at double speed. He appeared so small and fragile. More like a five-year-old than his actual eight years. He’d gotten dressed. Sort of. He’d managed to pull on his gray school trousers over his pajama bottoms and his army-green jumper clung inside out. No socks, and his mousy-brown curls stuck out from his head in all directions. Micky’s heart melted a little at the sight. “Well done, Flynn.” Micky finished brushing his teeth, spat down the plughole and cupped a handful of water into his mouth to rinse. Turning back to his brother, Micky then crouched in front of him. “But how about we try taking the pajamas off?” Flynn looked down, waggling his toes, and back up at his big brother. “Why?” he asked, confused. “I put them back on later.” Micky laughed. The kid had a point. “Come on.” Micky took hold of Flynn’s hand to walk him back into the small box room. It had twin beds, pushed up against opposite sides. One had used to belong to Micky before he’d moved into the master bedroom. “What time did you get up today?” Micky asked, dragging Flynn’s jumper over his head. “Five five two,” Flynn replied. He wound up the blasted plastic toy again and Micky breathed in deeply, preventing his immediate instinctive reaction to take the thing and smash it against the wall in comradeship with its penguin mate. “That’s early,” Micky said, pulling off Flynn’s pajama top then rooting around in the drawer for his brother’s school polo shirt. He found it scrunched at the bottom and helped Flynn squirm into it while trying to smooth out the creases. “For what?” Flynn asked, holding on to Micky’s shoulder as he knelt and stepped out of his trousers. “Everything,” Micky replied with a yawn. “Daddy didn’t say it was.” Micky looked into Flynn’s blue eyes. The white starburst pattern within them gave him the feeling of being hypnotized. Micky blinked. “Dad’s not here, Flynn,” Micky said slowly, standing to inspect his now school-uniform-clad little brother. “Yes, he is.” Flynn smiled widely, his plastic toy buzzing in his hands. Micky stared down at for a brief moment, then spun around and ran full pelt down the stairs and into the living room. The place was dark and dank, stinking of booze and fags with beer cans littering the floor. Micky yanked open the curtains to witness the disgusting figure sprawled on the sofa. Tatty stonewashed denim jeans bagged around his knees and the T-shirt he wore, once white in color, was stained yellow with patches of Micky didn’t want to know what. His greasy, graying hair hung around his face like rats’ tails. He was snoring and every breath out from his wide-open mouth filled the room with a putrid stench. Micky kicked at the arm dangling off the sofa. The man grumbled but didn’t move. Micky kicked him again, more fiercely. Opening one eye, the brute belched as he squinted through the glaring sunlight. “Get the fuck out,” Micky demanded. The laughter that followed made Micky’s skin crawl, along with the irritating scratching of fingernails across the man’s chest. The shirt rubbed against the curly dark hairs scattering his fat body and made the unbearable scraping of nails down a chalk board. “Now,” Micky growled. The grunted response wasn’t something Micky could decipher, nor did he care to. Micky watched with contempt as he rolled off the sofa and landed on the floor with a thump. Several beer cans crunched under his heavy frame and he rolled again to push up on to all fours. Grunting once more, he heaved himself to stand. He tripped on his own feet and clutched at the wall. Micky clenched his fists at the ready as the second loud belch blasted out and Micky had to turn away from the oncoming stink. “Money,” he demanded, holding out a hand. “Get fucked,” Micky spat back. “Then I take his.” He staggered over to the fireplace mantelpiece and made a grab for the handmade clay moneybox shaped like a car. Micky wrapped firm fingers around his wrist and squeezed tightly. “Over my dead body.” Micky gritted his teeth. Clutching the wrist harder, he used his other hand to root around in the dirty jeans pocket and yanked out a key. Shaking his head, Micky shoved him away. “Now leave, before I fucking kill you.” “Micky?” Flynn’s delicate little voice squeaked from the living room door. He clung to the plastic toy still in his hand, his eyes tightly shut. Micky ran over, picked him up and settled him on his hip. For an eight-year-old, Flynn weighed no more than a couple of stone, his body skin and bones. It wasn’t his fault. It was the condition. Flynn rested his head on Micky’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his big brother’s neck, still clamping his eyes shut. “It’s okay, Flynn. Dad’s leaving now.”

Author Bio

Brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail—leave. Studying at a West London university, she realised there was a whole city out there waiting to be discovered, so, much like Dick Whittington before her, she never made it back home and still endlessly searches for the streets paved with gold, slowly coming to the realisation they’re mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of staring at them vacantly whilst holding a polystyrene cup of watered-down coffee. She eventually moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family. Having worked in Higher Education for most of her career, a life-altering experience brought pen back to paper after she’d written stories as a child but never had the confidence to show them to the world. Having embarked on this writing malarkey, C F White cannot stop. So strap in, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride... Website Twitter Facebook

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hosted By Signal Boost Promotions

FGMAMTC 

Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents

Website / Facebook / Twitter / Google+ / Pinterest / Goodreads / Tumblr / Bloglovin' / Instagram

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