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deanstop13billyjoeltraxx · 4 years

Text

Superposition

a deancas college roommate AU

Chapter 10 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here.

Wanting is Enough

“You goin’ home for Christmas?” Dean asked.

They were walking back to the dorm after dinner. It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving, a holiday for which neither Cas nor Dean had bothered to travel home.

“No,” Cas said. “I don’t believe I’m welcome at my father’s house anymore.”

Dean glanced sideways at him as they entered the stairwell. “Why? ‘Cause you’re gay?’ He asked.

Cas shrugged. “If he knows now, from Bartholomew or Hannah, then that certainly doesn’t help my case.” He sighed. “No, when he found out I was attending college and not entering ministry, he told me I shouldn’t come home again.”

Dean held the exit door open as Cas walked onto their floor. “When did that happen?” He asked.

“I kept the entirety of my college application process a secret. Only Anna knew,” Cas said. “She’s the only other sane person in my family. I made the mistake of informing the rest of them about it at dinner sometime in July.” He gave Dean a wry smile as they entered their room. “None of them were particularly thrilled.”

“You told them about the full ride and everything?”

“Yes.”

“And your old man still kicked you out?”

“The same night.”

Dean snorted. “Dumbass.”

A smile tugged at Cas’s lips. “You could say that.”

“Where’d you go after that?” Dean asked.

“Well, Anna was already living alone, down in Norman. She was at the University of Oklahoma,” he added by way of explanation. “I just stayed with her until August.”

Dean nodded. “She sounds cool. What’s she doing now?”

Cas broke into a grin. “She lives in North Carolina, now. She’s a therapist.”

Dean smirked at him. “So your ass is constantly getting psychoanalyzed?”

“I suppose.”

Dean slumped into the beanbag with a sigh. Cas remained at the door, leaning his weight against it.

“What about you?” He asked after a beat. “Are you returning home for Christmas?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, smiling. “Well, it’s kinda complicated. I am going home, like, my actual home. Lawrence. We spend Christmas with some family friends.” Dean paused, looking thoughtful. “They’re really more family than friends. Bobby and Ellen and Ellen’s kid Jo. Bobby and Ellen were both friends with my dad.”

“Will your father and brother be there?”

Dean’s look darkened, if only slightly. “Dad’s not coming. The whole thing started ‘cause he got tired of trying to pretend to like the holidays after Mom died. Decided to pawn us off on his old friends. But yeah, Sammy’ll be there.”

Cas gave him a nod and pushed off from the door. While he was disappointed that Dean would be gone for winter break, he was relieved, too. That was three weeks sans-Dean, more than enough time for Cas to work through his little crush. The solitude would be good, he told himself. Cas figured he could fast-track the five stages of grief, and by the time Dean returned, Cas would be the best friend he deserved. Cas sighed to himself as he rifled through his closet for a towel and a change of clothes. He was grabbing bottles of shampoo and body wash when Dean cleared his throat.

“You know,” he said slowly, like the words were difficult to force out, “You could… I mean, I’m sure everyone wouldn’t mind if you came to Christmas.”

Cas whirled around to face Dean, who was picking at a loose thread on the beanbag.

“What?” He asked, a little too loudly.

“Since you’re not goin’ home,” Dean said. “You know, it sucks to spend Christmas alone. ‘Specially in this dump,” he added, gesturing generally to the small room.

“Are you inviting me to spend Christmas in Lawrence? With you?”

Dean gave a short laugh. “I guess it is kinda dumb. Yeah, nevermind.”

“No, I’d like that,” Cas rushed out. He blinked at his own words. He was supposed to be avoiding Dean as often as possible, not spending three uninterrupted weeks in his hometown. “It sounds nice,” Cas added weakly, despite the fact that it definitely did not.

Dean looked up at him. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Dean broke into the biggest grin Cas had ever seen. “Dude, it’s going to be awesome. I can’t wait for everyone to meet you.” Dean stood up with and pulled Cas in for a hug, clapping him on the back twice. Cas winced, letting out a feeble chuckle as he returned the hug reluctantly. He was trying not to notice the warmth of Dean pressed against him, or the absence of it when they parted.

“Are you pissed at me?”

It was the Wednesday before finals started. They were quietly eating dinner when Dean threw the question at Cas, who coughed into his water.

“What?” He sputtered.

Dean rubbed the back of his head. “I dunno, man, I just feel like I never see you anymore.”

Guilt crashed into Cas like a freight train. He had been absent, more absent even than before Thanksgiving. Part of it was out of necessity — finals were fast approaching, and he was intent upon an all-A’s first semester. But the hours at the library were stacked on top of the hours he spent in class and the hours he spent simply staying away from his room.

“I apologize,” Cas said, and he couldn’t keep the earnestness from his voice. “I’m just feeling overwhelmed. I have two final papers, three exams, and two final projects coming up before the break.”

“No, man, I get it,” Dean said with a shrug. “You’re busy. Sorry, that was kinda uncalled for. All in my head, you know.”

Cas wanted to tell him that it was completely called for, that what Dean was feeling was valid, that he was being selfish and rude and a whole number of terrible things for avoiding Dean. But he couldn’t, because that would mean promptly declaring soul-destroying love for his best friend, right there in the middle of the dining hall. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” he mumbled.

Cas had thought that it was getting easier, being around Dean. He’d basked in the feeling of being not just someone’s best friend, but Dean’s best friend, after Halloween, and that was enough. And while he was still avoiding spending long hours in their room, he felt like he was well on his way to making peace with the unrequited.

But then, they’d gotten drunk on the night of Thanksgiving. Cas didn’t remember much besides waking up in a tangled heap with Dean on the floor of their room. He’d been successful in extricating himself from the strange embrace before Dean regained consciousness, and thank god for that. But the situation lived rent-free in Cas’s mind. It made things considerably more difficult.

And then there was the prospect of travelling to Lawrence to spend Christmas with Dean and his family. Cas really hadn’t wanted to spend the holiday alone, and was, on the one hand, thankful for the invitation. On the other, his anxiety was mounting. That trip meant there was absolutely no avoiding Dean for at least three weeks; not to mention the fact that he was meeting the group of people most important to Dean.

So if Cas was making extra efforts to put space between himself and his roommate, it was not unwarranted.

They finished eating and made their way back to the dorms. Dean was complaining about his own finals, and while Cas tried his hardest to remain engaged, his heart wasn’t in it. He was angry at himself. Even when he felt like he was succeeding, he was failing.

“Cas,” Dean said. Cas had just let them into the room, but Dean was standing resolutely in the hallway.

“Yes?” Cas responded.

“Are you… I know I already asked, but man, something’s off,” Dean rushed out. “Is — Is this about Christmas? ‘Cause —”

Cas interrupted him. “No, Dean. I’m excited to spend Christmas with you and your family.”

Dean smiled weakly, but it was brief. “I just — you’re never around, man,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “I feel like I fucked something up somehow.”

Cas knew Dean well enough by now to know there were things he was trying to say without saying them. His heart broke to know that I miss you was likely one of them.

“I promise, you’ve done nothing wrong,” Cas said. “I’m just concerned about my finals.” Lie.

Dean looked at him with skepticism. “Okay,” he said finally.

Another twinge of guilt soared through him, but he didn’t say anything more, just gathered his things for a shower. Dean still hadn’t come into the room when Cas pushed past him and made his way to the bathroom.

When he returned, Dean was gone, but Cas saw a notification on his phone.

DW (7:32 pm)

went out back later

Cas narrowed his eyes at the short message, but typed out a reply anyway.

CN (7:34 p.m.)

Okay. Be safe. Don’t forget, there’s class tomorrow.

He sat down at his desk and opened his computer. He tried studying for his accounting final, but the words and equations might have been hieroglyphics for all that he was absorbing them. Cas sighed and pulled up the final project description for his creative writing class instead.

It was his favorite class by far. In high school, Cas focused on writing short stories, mostly adapted from real life. His notebooks were his confidants, the product of never having a close friend. But now, he was challenged to write other things; poetry, scripts, memoirs. Cas lived for the challenge, finally able to stretch new creative muscles. And while his attempt at drama had received mixed reviews from his professor and peers alike, his other works were well-received. He’d never shared his writing with anyone, and to hear others enjoyed it was something Cas cherished.

But this final project, it was difficult. The professor had tasked them with writing a 1000-word story in prose and adapting it into both a drama and a poem. The goal was to tell the same story in each genre. Cas couldn’t even think of a scene he might want to write, let alone how he was going to move fluidly between genres.

He sighed, and began to list out possible ideas. When it became clear that he wasn’t getting anywhere, he closed his notebook and moved onto something less intense. He reviewed his econ notes for an hour, got started on his final paper for literature.

After hitting a solid halfway point on his first draft, he checked his phone again. It was already midnight. Cas frowned. Dean was known to stay out late on the weekends, but it was Wednesday. Cas knew Dean had a nine-a.m. history class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He also knew that Dean wouldn’t make it to said class if he was out much later. He sent him a text.

CN (12:03 a.m.)

Are you all right?

Cas hit the bathrooms to brush his teeth and get ready for bed before checking his phone. His worry only increased when he saw that Dean hadn’t replied. He sent another text, hoping he didn’t seem too overbearing.

CN (12:11 a.m.)

Just making sure you’re alive.

He decided that if Dean didn’t respond in the next ten minutes, he’d call, regardless of how ridiculous he might sound.

Cas paced around the room, picking up what little stray trash they had left lying out. He was about to take out his phone again to check the time when it started vibrating on his desk. He picked it up eagerly, but frowned at the unknown number. Cas considered letting it ring out, but he hit the “accept” button at the last second. He didn’t say anything as he held the phone up to his ear, expecting a wrong number.

His eyes went wide when Dean rasped, “Cas?”

“Dean?” Cas replied, trying to keep panic out of his voice. “What — Why are you calling me from this number?”

“Phone’s dead,” he said, sounding exhausted. “I hate to do this to you, man, but… Just — goddammit — can you come get me?”

“What?”

“I’m just — I’m at the corner of seventeenth and Gentry.”

“Don’t you have a DD?” Cas asked. Dean had never called him to pick him up from a party. He always made sure someone was sober, or he called an Uber.

“No,” Dean sighed.

“Seventeenth and Gentry?” He repeated, and he heard Dean murmur something in affirmation. Cas made a turn for his car and said, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He hung up.

Cas tried to drive at a normal speed, but it was difficult. Dean had left abruptly, and while Cas hadn’t thought to question it, it now seemed glaringly out-of-character. Dean had never partied in the middle of the week, and he certainly had never gone drinking by himself. Every red light kicked his anxiety up a notch.

After the interminable drive, Cas finally arrived at the corner Dean had directed him to, a small bar with WSU flags plastered everywhere. Cas drove past the front of the building slowly, but couldn’t find Dean there. Finally, he saw a phone booth just past the bar’s street parking, and he coaxed the car forward. Dean was leaning against its side, a cigarette in his mouth. He hadn’t brought a jacket, and it was barely thirty degrees out. Cas turned up the heat in the car as he unlocked the passenger door.

Dean put out the cigarette and slid in without a word. Cas hit the gas and started the drive back to the dorms.

Neither said a word in the ten minutes it took Cas to reach campus. The only sounds were the roar of hot air from the vents and the low groan of the engine. Cas kept his eyes in front of him, never once daring to glance at Dean.

When they reached the lot, Cas threw the gear shift into park and folded his hands in his lap. He stared at his own interlaced fingers, willing Dean to speak first, not wanting to ask the question.

Dean didn’t speak, though, just opened the car door and stepped out. Cas saw a light flicker through the passenger window, and suppressed a groan as he realized Dean had lit another cigarette. Typical, Cas thought, and he was suddenly annoyed. It occurred to him that if their places were switched, Dean would be hounding him, demanding that Cas tell him everything, because he always did. Anytime Cas seemed the slightest bit off, Dean was there, asking questions, being the good friend that he was. But now? Now, he expected Cas to leave it alone, to let him suffer with whatever was bothering him. Cas took a few steadying breaths, then turned the engine off and got out.

“Dean,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral, “What the hell?”

Dean didn’t answer, just took a long drag, his gaze aimed resolutely ahead. Cas huffed and crossed his arms.

“You… You can’t just ask me to come pick you up from a bar and not offer an explanation,” Cas said.

“Sorry,” Dean muttered.

Cas let out a mirthless laugh. “Oh, well, that’s perfectly adequate,” he scoffed.

“What else am I supposed to say?” Dean demanded.

Cas stared at him, then shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, his jaw set. “I’m going to bed.

“What?” Dean asked, finally looking at Cas.

Cas shrugged. “I’m obviously wasting my time.”

Another drag. An exhale.

“My dad called while you were in the shower.”

The irritation shifted, almost immediately, to concern. “Your father called you?”

“Yeah.”

“What did he want?”

Dean tapped his cigarette against his leg. “Mostly to remind me what a piece of shit I am.”

Cas remained silent, allowing Dean the space to form whatever his next thought might be.

“I guess…” Dean rubbed his free hand over his forehead. “I guess Sam let it slip that I was bringing you to Bobby’s for Christmas.”

Cas cocked his head. “And that’s… Problematic?”

Dean exhaled another plume of smoke. “Yeah,” he said. He let out a mirthless laugh. “He said he didn’t get it, that if I was bringing anyone home, it should be a girlfriend, not…” Dean trailed off.

Cas felt the blood leave his face. “He thinks —”

“Yeah.”

“Dean, I don’t have to come,” Cas said. It would be better for both of us. “I’ll be perfectly fine here. I appreciate the offer, I do, but I don’t want to make life more difficult for you than necessary.”

Dean looked at him, finally, and he was all shadow and exhaustion. “No, he’s not gonna be there. You’re coming,” he said resolutely, and Cas tried not to let the disappointment show. “Plus, that wasn’t all of it. He’s pissed that I didn’t come home for Thanksgiving. Said something about how I was dishonoring my mom’s memory or something.”

Cas was silent for a moment. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“What do you mean?”

“At the bar,” Cas clarified. He couldn’t tell how drunk Dean really was, but based on that recent revelation, he could guess.

Dean furrowed his brow. “What?” He cleared his throat. “I mean, I had like three beers. I was planning on going full blackout, but then you reminded me about class.”

Cas almost smiled at that, because it was almost funny. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Decide to get blackout drunk just because your father incorrectly assumed you were bringing me — bringing a male partner to a Christmas he wouldn’t even attend?”

Dean frowned. “I don’t — I don’t know,” he said, and he sounded almost surprised at his own answer.

Cas was treading on thin ice, he knew that. But he kept up anyway. “I don’t want to overstep,” he said slowly, “But, Dean, your father… It doesn’t seem like he’s taken the time to get to know you. The real you, not the version he wants you to be, or the version he projects onto you.”

When Dean didn’t stop him, he continued. “And you don’t owe him anything, not anymore. You’re here, aren’t you? All on your own. He has no power over you. And, I’m only assuming, but I believe that might terrify him. Because not only do you no longer need him, but you may choose not to want him.”

Cas let out a small laugh. “Believe me, I know how difficult it is to stop putting stock in what your father thinks. It took me years to accept that I had done nothing wrong, that my father was, and always would be, a bigot. I… I’m still working on it, even now,” he admitted. Cas sighed. “But my life has been better, easier, since I stopped trying to please someone who hardly even knew me.”

Dean’s expression changed, and he blinked. He was still looking in Cas’s direction, but not at him. Past him, at some unknown subject. Cas took a step toward him.

“Dean?”

“I don’t need him,” Dean whispered.

“Are you all right?” Cas asked, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean let out a huff, overflowing with something like realization. “I never thought about that before. It’s not like he’s ever tried to talk to me.” Dean threw his cigarette on the asphalt and stomped it out. A breathy chuckle escaped his lips, and he wrapped his hands around his midsection. “You know, I used to try so hard to be like him.” Dean tilted his head toward the sky. “I listened to his music, I dressed like him. Hell, I even started talkin’ like him.

“It was never enough, you know? I always fucked up. Sam didn’t get to school on time, or I forgot milk at the grocery store. I just, I dunno. I know he loves me. But I always wanted him to like me, too, you know?”

“I do.”

“Oh man, you should’ve seen him when he found out I’d been hiding money away to go to college,” Dean said, laughing darkly. “I thought I was gonna go to school with a black eye for a week.”

“He hit you?” Cas asked, horrified.

“What? No, no,” Dean said quickly. “I just thought he might.”

Cas let out a breath. There was one crime John Winchester hadn’t committed. “What do you mean, hiding money?”

“Dad never really had a steady job, not after our mom died,” Dean explained. “That’s why we moved around a lot. When I was fourteen, I started working. Chickenshit stuff, mostly. Mowing lawns and detailing cars until I was old enough to start flippin’ burgers.” Dean furrowed his eyebrows. “The money was supposed to go to rent and food, but I started putting most of it aside, just in case, you know? I had enough for a year of college by the time I was a senior. I figured I could get loans and stuff for the rest.”

“And when you told him, he got angry?”

Dean only nodded, now staring intently at the ground. Cas didn’t say anything more, knowing Dean had probably just unloaded more trauma than he’d even known he had. Finally, though, Dean’s gaze met his.

“But I don’t need him,” he repeated.

“You don’t.”

“He’s nothing, unless I want him to be something,” Dean said slowly, and his eyes were growing triumphant. “Cas, you’re a genius.”

“If you say so.”

“You learn all that stuff from your sister? The one with a degree in ‘dealing with crazy fuckers’?”

Cas smiled. “Maybe,” he said. “And therapy isn’t just for ‘crazy fuckers.’”

Dean smirked at him. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say ‘fuck’.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “It’s cold out here,” he said. “Let’s go inside.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Yeah, okay.”

As they walked, Cas felt latent anger curl in his stomach. Dean hadn’t told Castiel much about his home life, not until that night. He understood, now, why Dean could so easily take care of others, but needed three beers and a cigarette to show his own vulnerabilities. In his eighteen years, had Dean ever been told that he was enough? The possibility that he hadn’t awakened something in Cas, some righteous fury.

He chided himself internally. How much of his selfish avoidance scheme had contributed to those feelings of inadequacy? He’d rather burn with the pain of unrequited love forever than let Dean think he wasn’t enough.

When they reached the entrance to their dorm, Cas put a hand on Dean’s arm. “Are you okay, Dean?” He asked.

Dean let out a long breath. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I’m okay. I really am.” He said it like it might have been the first time he’d ever meant it.

Cas woke up at two in the morning from a particularly vivid dream. His breathing was heavy with the shock of waking up so suddenly. Dean was breathing slow and even across the room, still entirely asleep.

Cas shook his head a little. The dream had felt so real that it had left a residual burning feeling in his hand. He stared at it, but it remained entirely human.

Abruptly, he remembered his creative writing project. A short story, something he could turn into a poem and a stage scene. A lightbulb went off in his brain.

Cas lowered himself from his bed and hurriedly opened his computer. He had to get this down as soon as possible. Cas replayed the dream in his mind as his computer booted up. He supposed it might be a little strange, to turn this story in as his final project, considering it was somewhat of a self-insert. But it had everything he needed.

Finally, he opened a blank document and began to write the first draft. Cas wrote down everything he could remember from the dream, sights and sounds and feelings. With each word, his excitement grew. He’d never felt this way about a writing project, like the story demanded to be told.

Cas hit word count and kept going, because the story was building itself larger and larger. He didn’t even notice how long he’d been working until Dean’s six-a.m. alarm went off.

Dean groaned and rolled over in his bunk. He said something, but Cas didn’t hear, too intent upon getting the words in his head onto the page.

“Hey,” Dean said, raising his voice. “Stephen King, what the hell?”

Cas didn’t turn from the computer screen. “Good morning,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

Dean groaned. “Like the dead,” he said sarcastically. “How long you been up?”

Cas checked the time. “Somewhere around four hours,” he said.

“Four — you’ve been up since two?”

“Yes.”

Dean blanched and swung himself down from his bed. “Dude, that means you got, max, an hour and a half of sleep.” He made his way to Cas’s desk and leaned over his shoulder. Upon seeing the word count on his screen, his eyes widened.

“You wrote all that last night? Or this morning?” He asked.

Cas shrugged, a little sheepishly. “I got inspired.”

Dean blinked at him. “I’m gonna make a pot of coffee,” he said.

Cas wrote a few hundred more words before finding a good stopping point. He scrolled to the top of his document and highlighted the scenes he wanted to use for his project. Dean brought him a cup of coffee, which Cas accepted eagerly, beginning to feel the first twinges of exhaustion through his inspiration-fueled mania.

“What’re you writing over there?” Dean asked after taking a sip from his mug.

“It’s one of my final projects,” Cas replied. He drank from his own mug.

Dean looked at him in horror. “A five-thousand word essay?”

Cas laughed. “No. A thousand-word short story,” he said.

“What, so you’re an over-achiever?”

“No,” Cas said. “I’m only using the first thousand words for my project. But I just couldn’t stop. There was more to tell.” His cheeks flamed. Talking about his creative projects always embarrassed him.

“What’s it about?” Dean asked.

Cas gave him a sideways grin. “You’ll find out when you read it.”

Dean scowled. “At least tell me what you’re calling it.”

Cas looked up thoughtfully. “I don’t know for sure yet,” he said. “That reminds me…” He turned back to his computer to save the document. When faced with the title option, he faltered. He typed in “The Righteous Man.” That would do for now.

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taglist! @nguyenxtrang @castielsbeeslippers

#supernatural #destiel #deancas #destiel fic

11 notes · View notes

hiiggsmonaghan · 5 years

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Are you fuckin’ kidding me--?

Alright, I’ll answer them ALL.

1. Name: Higgs Monaghan Silver/Silvio

2. Nationality: Canadian/Acadian

3. Age: 22

4. Birthday: July 19th

5. Zodiac sign (or your primal zodiac sign): Cancer

6. Gender: cis male

7. Sexuality: Gay

8. Your looks (add a picture or describe yourself): This will have to wait until a special reveal. (Future cosplay things.)

9. What do you/did you study?: ... Does Egyptian history count?

10. What's your current job like?/What job would you like to have?: [Nervous laughter] I have no idea what I’d like to do for a job.

11. Your birth order: First child

12. How many siblings do you have?: 1 “real” sibling, but so many siblings by bond.

13. Do you have good relations with your family?: Biological family? Absolutely not. Except for two of my cousins. They are cool.

14. How many friends do you have?: Too many that it’s obnoxious. [Just kidding, I appreciate you all.]

15. Your relationship status: Taken/Engaged

16. What do you look for in a SO?: Someone who can kick my ass. [Who can handle my anger outbursts]

17. Do you have a crush?: No.

18. When did you have your first kiss?: When I was 14. It was forced and was a terrible experience.

19. Do you prefer serious and meaningful relationships or casual dating/one night stands?: Meaningful ones, funny enough.

20. What are your deal breakers?: Overly clingy, too loud, not respectful of my music choices

21. How was your day?: Cold. Snowstorm happened today.

22. Favourite food & drink: Pizzas/cheeseburgers || Strawberry slushie with tapioca pearls/orange juice

23. What position do you sleep in?: Fetal position. [Hahahah... ha.]

24. What was your last dream about?: Cannot remember.

25. Your fears: The ocean [drowning], deep forests.. uhh... There are others but I cannot think of it at the moment

26. Your dreams: To be on my goddamn motorcycle, livin’ a good life without my mental illness in the way.

27. Your goals: See above.

28. Any pets?: Not yet! Planin’ to get a black cat soon!

29. What are your hobbies?: Music and readin’

30. Any cool places in your area?: Pfft, no. It’s so fuckin’ boring here.

31. What was your last awkward situation?: I was at Tim Horton’s and there was a baby cryin’ behind me so I looked over at it and played... peek-a-boo with them. It was...weird. But at least the baby shut up. The mother didn’t do shit to make the baby stop cryin’ so.. Great Parenting.

32. What is your last regret?: Well too many to really talk about but I’ll go with the funny route and my last regret was not goin’ to Burger King yesterday and eatin’ salad instead of a burger.

33. Language/s you can speak: English

34. Do you believe in astrological stuff? (Zodiac, tarot, etc.): Not really. It’s all just whatever for me.

35. Have any quirks?: I bite my nails often... I pretend to conduct music while it is playing... uh...???

36. Your pet peeves: Everything.

37. Ideal vacation: Anywhere away from North America.

38. Any scars?: Many.

39. What does your last text message say?: “Nah”

40. Last 5 things from your search history: Twitter, Vargskelethor’s twitch, Cloud Strife, YouTube, FF7 remake release date

41. What's your [device] background?: RK900 from Detroit Become Human

42. What do you daydream about?: Usually having super strength and throwing people whom bother me across the world or just... punchin’ them.

43. Describe your dream home: A simple house, really. Nothin’ too fancy. Just the idea of havin’ my own house? Even if it isn’t that big or anythin’... That is a dream for me. Oh, and I want it painted black. Hah.

44. What's your religion/Your thought about religion: I’d say I’m atheist but... I do believe in God. I AM God. :)

45. Your personality type: ISTP-T

46. The most dangerous thing you've done: [Looks at the list of dangerous things I have done] ... There are too many

47. Are you happy with your current life?: At the moment? Yeah. There are things I am still angry about but it’s... fine.

48. Some things you've tried in your life: Smoking. Drawing. Singing. Writing. Playing the guitar. ???

49. What does your wardrobe consist of?: Black and reds.

50. Favourite colour to wear?: Black.

51. How would you describe your style?: Goth/punk

52. Are you happy with your current looks?: Eh.. Not really but it’s all I got.

53. If you could change/add something to your appearance - impossible or not - what would it be?: Grow. Damn. Facial. Hair. Holy FUCK.

54. Any tattoos or piercings?: Snake bites. But I took one out so only one lip piercing now. And tattoos? Soon. Very soon. [Gonna be Higgs’ themed, baby.]

55. Do you get complimented often?: No and when I do I make it Stop. I hate it. Never compliment me.

56. Favourite aesthetic?: Black/gold aesthetics as of late.

57. A popular trend that you dislike: Everything. I hate them all.

- [FINALLY THE ONES I WANTED, JESUS CHRIST]

58. Songs you're currently obsessed with?: Allesfresser by LINDEMANN

It’s a great song to listen to for me because I just punch my punching bag to this song. Makes my anger just... go away. It’s fuckin’ nice.

59. Song you normally wouldn't admit you like: .... Let’s Dance by David Bowie

I am a new fan of David Bowie. It just literally started in July or late June. I’m the typical metal head but for some reason Bowie just caught my ear? I dunno, man.

60. Favourite genre?: METAL. Well, Power Metal. I love all sorts of metal except for like.. most death metal/black metal. It is too much for me sometimes. But yeah, if yall are into metal... I’m all ears. I love talkin’ about metal.

61. Favourite artist/band/genre?: Well I already spoke about my favorite genre. For favorite bands? God... Uh.. I have a list here of favorite bands/musicians. Check it out if you’re interested.

62. Hated popular songs/artists?: Honestly? I’m gonna be one of those guys and say pretty much everything on the radio these days. I don’t like pop/rap and all the most popular stuff. Turning the radio on is ear torture these days. Except for the rock channel, that one is okay most of the time.

63. Put your music on shuffle and list first 5:

1 - System of a Down’s Chop Suey in the Style of Ghost by Ten Second Songs

This guy is simply AMAZING. If yall haven’t already, you NEED to check out his channel. He is wicked talented and he has different styles for different songs. Like for example, Metallica’s Enter Sandman in the style of David Bowie. It’s amazing.

Check him out. His YouTube is Ten Second Songs.

2 - City by Hollywood Undead

This one just gives me my inner Higgs’ vibes. That is really all I can say.

3 - Mein Teil by Rammstein

4 - Cars by Fear Factory

5 - 龍が如く極 - Turning Point [From Yakuza Kiwami]

Yeah, hi. Yakuza fan here. Do I have to say any more?

64. Can you sing or play any instruments?: I can kind of sing, [very badly, mind you] and sort of play the guitar. I’m tryin’ to learn Come as You Are by Nirvana at the moment... but that’s about it

65. Do you like karaoke?:

.... Yes. My inner Nishiki in me just cannot lie about this.

66. Own any albums?: Absolutely. I am a firm believer in albums rather than just buying them digitally. I love having an actual copy in my hands rather just on the computer.

67. Do you listen to radio? What stations?: Not really. I only listen to the rock station.

68. Favourite movie/series?: Star Wars.

69. Favourite genre of movies/books/etc: Uhhh... I don’t know

70. Your fictional crush/es: Sam Fuckin’ Porter Bridges, General Hux, RK900...

71. Which fictional character is you?: [Chuckles nervously]

Higgs Monaghan--

Too many to write down. I’ll just pass myself the trouble.

72. Are you a shipper? List your otps, if so: Eh not really. Only like.. Gavin/RK900 [Reed900] and General Hux/Kylo Ren [Kylux/Huxlo]

73. Favourite greek god?: Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh? I don’t know?

74. A legend from where you live that you like: None.

75. Do you like art? What's your favourite work or artist?: I’m gonna be cheesy and say all of my friends because it’s true. I love my friends art.

76. Can you share your other social media?: Yeah sure. My twitter is @hiiggsmonaghan

77. Favourite youtubers?: Markiplier, Jacksepticeye... Streamers: Vargskelethor and Vinesauce

78. Favourite platform?: Tumblr and Twitter

79. How much time do you spend on the internet?: .. Too long

80. What video games have you played? Which one's your favourite?: Ones I have PLAYED that are my favorite: Pokemon, Devil May Cry, Final Fantasy XV, Yakuza 0/Kiwami.

I also have a lot a games I love that I just watched. Like a lot of Legend of Zelda games and of course Death Stranding!

81. Your favourite books (manga also counts): Anything really by William Blake. I guess that really isn’t a “book” but.. all I really read are poems, Shakespearean plays and Egyptian history books.

82. Do you play board/card games?: No

83. Have you ever been to a night marathon in cinema?: No

84. Favourite holiday: Halloween

85. Are you into dramas?: Not really.

86. Would you use death note, if you had one?: ABSOLUTELY. And I do have one. Well... a replica. Not the real one of course.

87. What changes would you make in the world, no matter how impossible, if you had the power to?: Get rid of the racists, rapists, pedos and homo/trans phobes. The world would just be more pleasant to live in, yeah?

88. Could you survive a zombie apocalypse?: Probably. Because I stay inside a lot anyway.

89. If you had to be turned into a paranormal being, what would it be?: A demon because I am that fuckin’ edgy.

90. What would you want to happen to you after your death?: VOID OUT, BITCH. Uh, I don’t know.

91. If you had to change your name, what would be your pick?: I did change my name so I am happy with it.

92. Who would you switch your life with for a week?: Uh.. No one. Can that be an option?

93. Pick an emoji to be your tattoo: The devil smiling one I guess?

94. Write 3 things about yourself - only one of them must be true

1. I am in a poly relationship while I am also engaged.

2. I have a knife collection

3.I still used an mp3 instead of using my phone for music

95. Cold or hot?: ... Cold because you can get warm with blankets and sweaters while if you are hot, it’s damn impossible to not be hot.

96. Be a hero or be a villain?: Hero in my eyes, but to all of you I’m the villain for some DAMN reason.

97. Sing everything you want to say or rhyme?: Sing I guess. Imagine singing in metal. Holy SHIT

98. Shapeshifting or controlling time?: CONTROLLING TIME.

99. Be immortal or be immune to everything aside from natural death?: Immune to everything. I’m sick of being sick.

====

And there you have it. I’m... fuckin’ DONE. This took literal HOURS, ANON. I hope yall read through this.

#replies ;;#anon #LONG POST #about me

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