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nat-20s · 3 years

Text

Part 5 of Wonderful! Au. *boyband voice* banter’s back alright!

Also on AO3

~*~

Jon: Hello everyone, and welcome back to our regular format. If my husband being horribly soppy-

Martin:-hey!-

Jon: -turned you off the how, this should be a refreshing return to formula, though I can’t guarantee there won’t be further horrible soppiness-

Martin, performatively under his breath: -most people thought it was charming-

Jon: -as that tends to happen when one is recording with the love of their life. If last week’s episode is the only one that you like, too bad, I’m back in full form, and should be at least through the rest of the season.

Martin: This show doesn’t have seasons? Due to the whole lack of a narrative thing?

Jon: I was referring to spring.

Martin: Oh, right.

[A beat passes.]

Martin, flatly: Oh. Great goof hon.

Jon, smug: Thank you.

Jon, sincere: Also, before we get properly started, I did want to actually thank everyone who sent well wishes.

M artin: Yes! We got positively inundated with lovely messages, it definitely brightened both of our days. I would even say it was wonderful.

[Jon groans.]

Jon: I am..not proud of the energy we’ve created for this episode so far, and we haven’t even hit the small wonders. Speaking of, do you have a small wonder this week?

Martin: Mine’s bad action movies.

Jon: Really? I had no idea you even liked them, let alone consider them wonderful.

Martin: Okay, so, saying I like them is a bit of a misnomer? It’s more that I like what they can do more than the movies themselves?

Jon: Elaborate?

Martin: It probably comes as a surprise to no one that I’ve tried my hand at a fair amount of mindfulness and mediation techniques. I’ve found poetry and journaling have been helpful for actually processing life events and whatnot, but when it comes to giving your brain a hard wipe and reset, nothing is half as quick and effective as a shitty shoot-em-up. Somethings about 2 hours of cartoonish, pg-13 violence held together with the absolute loosest of plots brings me to a state of mental blankness that would make a monk jealous.

Jon: How have I never witnessed you doing this? When are you sneaking off to go see Micheal Tarantino or who ever films?

M artin: That’s definitely not the right name.

Jon: Martin, dear, I don’t care. And you’re dodging the question.

Martin, fond: I’m not dodging anything. Since apparently we’re getting into it, you haven’t caught me cavorting with a movie involving more explosions than character development lately because I haven’t been. Haven’t needed it, in recent years. Turns out when you’re not crushingly lonely and working a literal nightmare of job, there’s less of a drive to try and escape your own thoughts. Shocker, I know. Still, to anyone out there that feels like their brain is on fire, go try watching a fast and furious. Any of ‘em, it doesn’t matter. Or even better, Chronicles of Riddick. I can’t remember a single goddamn detail of that movie, which makes it perfect for what I’m talking about.

Jon: I have the strong feeling that th is is a “mileage may vary” scenario.

Martin: Well, yeah, that’s this whole podcast. Plus, I imagine that movies like this would cause more stress to someone who cares about, say, world-building or rules consistency.

Jon: I wonder who you could possibly be referring to.

Martin: It’s a purely hypothetical person, love, don’t worry about it. Any small wonders?

Jon: Yes! Particularly relevant to the last week, my small wonder is stripping the sheets from your bed when it’s been too long between washes.

Martin: How very specific. M ost people would just say ‘clean sheets’.

Jon: Well, for one, I’m fairly certain that we’ve already covered clean sheets-

Martin: Shit, have we? Thank god other people keep track of this, otherwise this show would be unbearably repetitive.

Jon: Christ, yes. I typically check the website a good three times while prepping, and every about one out of those three times I find I’m trying to do an topic we did 30 episodes again. Anyway, um, it’s just nice, I think. When you’ve been too busy or sick or away for awhile, tossing the sheets in the wash makes a room instantly seem nicer. Of all the chores out there, this one, at least for me, has the highest reward to effort ratio.

Martin: Hard agree. Especially when the y have that slight funk of having been around to long, getting rid of that is such a relief. Speaking of, we need to change our sheets soon.

Jon: We can do it after the episode. Who goes first this week?

Martin: Considering last week was only me talking, I’m gonna say it’s you.

Jon: Alright, then. My first thing this week is Martin K. Blackwood.

Martin: Absolutely not!

Jon: Oh, you can do a whole episode on me, but I can’t do one little segment on my husband, whom I love very dearly?

Martin: Not while I’m sat here, no!

Jon: So you’re saying you don’t want me to tell the internet that your resolve to be kind even in the face of indescribable cruelty is one of the mot breathtaking things I’ve ever witnessed, or how I find it incredibly endearing when you get so emotional that your voice comes out as a squeak, or even that, on a more base level, you’re very physically attractive, and I could lose entire days thinking about your arms alone?

Martin, audibly blushing, voice the aforementioned squeak: Oh my god, Jon!

Jon, laughing: Then it’s probably for the best that my actual first thing is best friends.

Martin, peaking the audio levels: Oh you absolute bastard! Do you enjoy this? Do you get some sort of perverse sense of entertainment from riling me up?

Jon: Oh, don’t you start. As if you’re not as bad as I am. Maybe even worse.

Martin: That’s not…

Jon: Yes?

Martin: Okay. Maybe it’s slightly true. Really, what is romance for if not flustering your partner with compliments?

Jon, teasing: I certainly can’t think of anything.

Martin: Hush, you.

Jon: No, I don’t think I will.

Martin: Fine. I suppose you can tell our delightful audience about the power of friendship or whatever.

Jon: I would’ve assumed more enthusiasm, considering this segment is still, indirectly, about you.

Martin: In what way?

Jon: In the way that, to the shock of all, you’re my best friend.

Martin, pleased: Oh, is that what I am?

Jon, exasperated: Yes, dearest husband, I wouldn’t have married you otherwise. Though, upon reflection, I knew you were my best friend before I knew I held romantic feelings for you.

Martin: When was that?

Jon, letting out a breath that vibrates his lips: God it was...2016? I think it might’ve literally been the day after you told me about your CV.

Martin: That early? Huh. I wonder if that’s what people were picking up when they said they we were close.

Jon: What people?

Martin: I don’t know specifically, that’s just what Daisy told me.

Jon: Daisy? When the hell-?

Martin: It...was when she was interrogating me? And, because sometimes I have to be a parody of myself, pretty much my only take away from that interrogation was “people think me and Jon are close”.

Jon: Well then. It’s not like they were wrong.

Martin, smug: No, no they weren’t.

Martin, sincere: And you’re my best friend, too.

Jon: I was certainly hoping that you’re in this relationship for more than my good looks and incredible fortune, both in the monetary and luck sense.

Martin: You say that as if you aren’t good looking, which we all know is patently untrue.

Jon: You’re biased. You’d say I was good looking if I were nothing more than some primordial ooze with thoughts about its station.

Martin: I’m being completely objective. If you were primordial ooze with thoughts above its station, you’d be the cutest ooze of them all. That’s just scientific fact.

Jon: I’m starting to think we might be insufferable.

Martin: Starting to? Might be?

Jon:…

[Jon clears his throat]

Jon: What I find wonderful about the concept of best friends is, to me, they’re the closest thing real life has to soulmates. I don’t personally believe that there’s some..grand mystic force that drives people to be tied together in the manner that narrative typical soulmates are, and if there was I don’t think it would necessarily be the kind of emotional, heartfelt bond one would hope for, but I do believe that there’s individuals that get to know one another, and because of that knowledge, they chose to stick with one another. It doesn’t have to be a romantic, which is why I say best friend rather than specifically ‘spouse’, but I would argue that the basis of a strong romance like you and I have, is very much rooted in that connection. A true best friendship is an equal partnership, and there’s a sense of..matched sensibilities and understanding that can be utterly incandescent when it happens.

I also think that having one or more best friends makes living life on a day to day basis both better and just flat easier. The dark times aren’t as dark, and the bright times shine even more. I know from my own personal experience there are events that I..that I don’t know how I would’ve made it through without you. Hell, last week my..recovery period would’ve taken much longer if you hadn’t been there.

It’s an amazing thing to have someone to share things with, both triumphs and burdens. Um, also, according to Dictionary.com, the term best friends in English has been around since the 1200s. Something about that delights me, like, yes, we’ve had this casual way of referring to a Favorite Person for roughly 800 years. That makes it a hold-out from early Middle English. I dunno, it’s one of those things that make me feel overall very charmed by humanity.

Martin, audibly smiling: No, yeah, hard agree.

Jon: What’s that look for?

Martin: Nothing. Just. I love you a whole lot, you know that?

Jon, voice soft: I may have heard you say that once or twice. Per hour.

Martin: Only that often? I really need to be more diligent about that.

[There’s a bet of silence, presumably where they’re making doe eyes at each other.]

Jon: What’s your first thing?

Martin: Oh, um, right. Rats!

Jon: The expression or the animal?

Martin: Jon, have you ever once heard me say “rats” as an expression? Obviously I’m referring to the animal.

Jon: Ah. Should’ve known, considering that what, a third?, of all your segments have been on animals.

Martin: Yeah? And? You got a problem with critters? With creatures? With lil guys?

Jon, laughing: No, no, it’s very sweet. I’m just surprised you never became a vet.

Martin: Oh believe me, I wanted to. But then I learned that it was not, in fact, a job composed entirely of getting paid to play with other people’s pets.

Jon: You had that job, though, didn’t you? I thought I remembered you mentioning a month long stint at a doggie day care.

Martin, sighing dreamily: Best job I ever had. Too bad that place was shut down after it was revealed to be a money laundering front.

Jon: Good lord.

Jon: Martin did you...did you know it was a money laundering front at the time?

Martin:

Martin: Would it make you feel better if I said no?

Jon: Martin!

Martin: I figured it out like a week in, but, like, who cares? The pay was decent and the floor was super easy to clean, which is very much a plus for even a front of a doggie day care.

Jon: That’s...rather a lot. How about instead of getting into that any further, you tell me about rodents.

Martin: I would love to. But first, we have a shoutout!

Jon: Ooo, a shoutout. Does it specify who should read?

Martin: Let me check. It...does...not…..

...

Jon: Martin?

[A beat.]

Martin: Right! Sorry, um. This week’s shoutout is from Tim, to Danny. It says, “Danny! My favorite person who shares genetic material with me! I wanted to say thank you for your podcast obsession from 4 months ago, and specifically for telling me about these marrieds. They’ve gotten me through many a dull hour at the publishing house. Also, with this shoutout, I’ve officially gotten ahead on the Superior [Last Name Redacted] Brother scoreboard, so suck it. Love you lots, and looking forward to your visit next month, Tim.”

Jon: Oh.

Jon: Um. That’s very..sweet? I think? Mostly?

Martin: Yeah, I’d say so. Uh. We have to take a quick break because, uh, someone is..at our front door! Be back with you all in, from your side of things, just a moment.

#wonderful! au #jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #>:3 #shoutouts are their versions of jumbotrons btw

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years

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too rough ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1714

request?: yes!

@colsonbakerxxxxxx “Can you do a smuttty af one with the reader x MGK, like really smutty lol but Kells was extra rough and the reader was trying to hold on but at the end she couldn’t take it so she called out the safe word? Then Kells feels really bad and does the proper aftercare (bath, massage) and him just feeling like crap for hurting her x”

description: after a stressful day of trying to finish his album, colson decides to try and let off some steam, but is a little rougher than he means to be

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (fem receiving), choking, being a little too rough during sex

masterlist

He had had an off day at the studio. Things just weren’t working out to his liking and the album was taking longer than he wanted. The studio was breathing down his neck to get it done in time for the launch, just a month away. Lately, it was beginning to feel like each studio session only completed part of a song, and it was taking a week to try and finish even two songs.

When he got home, he was seething with frustration. He just wanted to go to bed and sleep for a whole day and hope that when he woke up next everything would be fine and finally would work in his favour. That was, until he say you laying on the couch in just a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top, minding your own business and watching TV. He had a better idea for getting his frustration out then.

You turned your head to look at him and smiled a little before noticing his look of frustration. “What’s up, honey?”

“Shitty day at the studio,” he responded as he eyed your body up and down. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He was beginning to pull his shirt off, and you immediately knew where this was going. You sat up and began to pull your own shirt off, a smirk on your face. “Okay, then we won’t talk.”

It wasn’t unusual for one of you to come home frustrated and for the other to help relieve that stress and frustration. In fact, anger sex was probably some of the best sex you had ever had. Some days you were even excited when Colson got home and was stressed and frustrated, or when you were having a shitty day and Colson would send you teasing text messages to tell you how he’d help you relax.

You were about to get up so that you could both go up to the bedroom, but was pleasantly shocked when Colson pushed you back down onto the couch. The living room was one of few places in the house that you ever had sex, mainly because there was always a fear of Casie coming unexpectedly and catching the two of you. But Colson was so frustrated and ready to get rid of that feeling that he really didn’t care where you did it at the moment. He would’ve taken you on the floor if he had to.

He pulled off his pants and pulled your shorts down your legs, kissing over your stomach and thighs as he did so. You giggled as he kissed his way up your stomach, pausing to pay special attention to each of your boobs, before attacking your neck and definitely leaving marks, and finally placing a rough kiss on your lips. You gasped against his lips as he pushed himself fully into you, filling you up in no time.

The rough thrusts and manhandling that Colson did when he was frustrated was also nothing new to you. You had almost grown accustom to them, and some days would rather feel him fucking and handling you more rough than he usually did. But this time was something different. It was as though something else had taken over Colson all together. He was rougher than he usually was with his thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin ringing out through the otherwise quiet house.

At first, you thought it was really hot. Your brain could barley form a coherent thought as moans and cruse words fell freely from your mouth and your eyes rolled back in your head in ecstasy. You even couldn’t help the gasp and moan of pleasure when Colson wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed just a little. However, his grip on your throat suddenly became tighter and the once pleasurable thrusts were beginning to hurt and make you feel sore.

You tapped on Colson’s arm, hoping he would get the hint to ease up on his grip. When he didn’t, you managed to wheeze out, “Pomegranate!”, the safe word you and Colson had made up back when you first began dating and having sex.

The word snapped Colson out of his funk. Quickly, he released your throat and pulled out of you. His face was filled with concern as you took a deep breath, finally able to breathe properly.

“I’m so sorry babe,” he said. “Did I hurt you bad?”

You shook your head. “Not bad, no. It was just getting hard to breathe, and you were fucking me a little rough there. I’m feeling a little sore now.”

“I’m so sorry,” he sighed again, sitting at the other end of the couch.

You sat up and ran your fingers through your hair. There was still a pulsing pain between your legs and you couldn’t help but wince when you moved your legs and accidentally put pressure on it.

Colson watched you with sad eyes. He lowered himself onto the floor in front of you, gently guiding you to the edge. He placed a gentle kiss on your sore clit before licking it slowly. Your head lulled back in pleasure as you let out another moan, encouraging Colson to continue pleasuring you. Your hand found its way to his hair, taking a handful of it and holding it tightly as he continued his work. Before you knew it, you were calling out his name as your climax hit you, covering his mouth and chin in your juices.

Colson stood, wiping his mouth with his thumb before sticking it in his mouth, which was an incredible turn on to you. He began to walk away, but you quickly stopped him by asking, “Wait, don’t you want me to finish you off, too, babe?”

He shook his head. “It’s alright, babe. Sit back and relax for a second, but don’t put your clothes back on.”

You giggled, figuring Colson had some other idea for sex. While you still felt a little sore and sensitive, especially after an orgasm, you still felt ready to continue going with the sex. Colson hadn't hurt you as bad as he thought he had, and you really hoped he wouldn’t worry about it that much.

You heard the water begin to run in the bathroom. You stood from the couch and hobbled down the hallway (literally hobble, you were feeling too sore to walk). When you finally got to the bathroom, you saw that Colson was running a bath, completed with your favourite bubble bath peaking over the edge as he continued to fill the tub. His beautiful blue eyes caught you in the doorway, watching him work.

“I told you to relax,” he said, although there was a slight smile on his face and a light tone in his voice.

“I was curious as to what you were doing,” you told him. “This for me?” He nodded. “And are you gonna join me in the bath?”

“Only if you want me to.”

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

When the bath was full, Colson helped you in first before getting in behind you. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed over whatever exposed skin he could reach as you rested your back against his chest.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you, baby,” he said once again.

You shook your head. “Don’t be sorry, babe. I used the safe word when it got too much, and you stopped immediately. I’m not upset or anything, and I’m already feeling a little better from it.”

He was tracing circles with his thumb around your collarbone, leaving goosebumps that were starting to spread to your neck and arm as he did so. “I was just really frustrated. The record label keeps hounding me to finish this album so they don’t have to push the release date. They keep threatening to cancel it all together if it’s not finished within the next week.”

“Why would they cancel it? So many people are excited for this album, if they cancelled it they’d be losing more money than they are if the album is a little late.”

Colson shrugged. “The label doesn’t have too much faith in me. I’ve been making rap and hip-hop for as long as I can remember, and I’ve been insanely successful doing that. When we went to pitch the album and play them the first few songs, they kept saying they weren’t sure because a change in genre doesn’t always work out for someone. Even when we provided Why Are You Here as an example of how I could make good punk rock music and it could be well received they weren’t sure. I think they just think this album is gonna crash and burn and they’ll have wasted time and money on agreeing to let me do it.”

You put your head back against Colson’s shoulder and turned to kiss his neck as much as you could reach. “Baby, you know that’s not true. Even if that’s what the record label thinks, you know your fans will love the album no matter when it comes out. They’re already begging for more songs that sound like Why Are You Here, imagine how excited they’re gonna be when you drop a whole album that sounds like it.”

Colson smiled and held you tightly. “I guess you’re right. I just can’t help but feed into that negative vibe sometimes.”

“I know, but you have to remember the positives when you start letting that stuff get to you. You have to target those negative thoughts and replace them with positive ones.”

Colson kissed behind your ear. “You’re the best positive thought I have.”

You giggled and turned so you could plant an actual kiss on his lips. “I’m glad I can be a positive thought in your life.”

“I’m glad to have you as a positive thought in my life.”

You smiled and kissed him once more before settling against him again. The two of you sat in the hot bath for some time, not speaking but just enjoying each other’s company. In that moment, Colson decided that this would be one of his new de-stressing techniques in the future; a nice bath with the love of his life.

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly smut #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #colson baker smut #mgk #estxx #one shot #imagine #smut #request

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that-tall-queer-bassist · 3 years

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My personal Pros and Cons of my ADHD

Pros

-noticing all the little details and appreciating them in the fullest

-Emotional Dysregulation, because when I get a new plant, or find that one oddly shaped metal marble I lost a while ago, I am so excited it’s pathetic, but I love that feeling of pure joy.

-hyperfixation of the week/day/hour (i know some people describe it differently, let me be pls) . I usually switch between art mediums, and/or a few video games/social media sites. for example, I’ve been on tumblr for 3 hours as i write this, after not touching it for, i think a month?

-nuerodivergent friends. They’re just better.

-the ability to completely drown myself in information to ignore reality. Is it healthy? no. But i simply cannot handle another existiential crissi rn, so i will instead play minecraft while listening to alt rock playlists on youtube because getting spotify sounds like a lot of work.

-my ability to retain absolutely useless information, from either my, or my other nuerodivergent friends hyperfixations/special interests. I can explain to you in terrible formatting if it’s out loud, the evolution, history, training, anatomy and roles of the horse in our world, and how ao3 works, and what makes or breaks a fanfiction.

-Object Impermanence. When i literally hide myself a treat or surprise and forget about it, then get so excited when i do find/discover it again. I hide google questions, and/or song lyrics in my tabs :) its so fun. Also, hiding away stressors. Again, healthy? no, but i don’t feel like having anxiety all day, so whatever.

-Emotional Dysregulation, again. I can switch from sad or angry to happy and excited/content in a few seconds. It’s also great for getting my siblings out of their funk. ex., my sister is mad at me. I make a silly voice repeating what she said or cross my eyes at her. she laughs, then we can talk and have constructive conversation about why she shouldn’t get that upset about me “cutting off her reading time” when we share a room and I want to sleep, and know that she will be very tired tomorrow if she doesn’t also go to sleep. (We have this conversation almost every single night, i’m not even joking)

Cons

-Emotional Dysregulation. When i get upset, I’m Upset. Like, big time, ruining friendships and familial ties if i let it get out of hand, Upset. Yeah.

-Time Blindness. Constantly late, or early, or under or over estimating the amount of time it takes to do a thing, not eating til 4 because you forgot but you also should just wait til dinner, but now its 9 and I still haven’t eaten-

-Executive Dysfunction. I can’t do the things needed to function. Don’t have the mental energy to explain this one, so google it i guess? There’s a whole checklist of things you need to be able to do to function, and i can do like, three on a good day.

-Sleeping Trouble. People with adhd have trouble falling asleep, staying asleep, and waking up. So, sleeping trouble. So I’m constantly tired.

-Internal Clock is SLIGHTLY OFF. Nuerotypicals have that normal sleep schedule. Adhd ers have it shifted forward by, i think, 2, 3 hours. So we go to sleep later, and wake up later, and that’s the only way to get a healthy amount of sleep. My entire family also eats dinner super late, which might be because we’re weird, but I suspect the inner clock thing cuz we all got adhd.

-Object Impermanance. I hid my math homework one time. I failed that class.

-Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. Never trying, or starting cuz I’m so terrified to get a bad reaction. Constantly masking around certain people to appeal to the few of my Nuerotypical friends. Or, y’know, majority of my extended family. They’re ableist. and homophobic. And transphobic. And racist. and sexist. The list goes on, but, yeah. Never coming out to them! :D

-Masking. It’s exhausting and I can only handle so much of it.

-Not Masking around nuerotypicals. The shoot down after finally revealing my true thoughts, urges, feelings, stims, etc. just sucks. Super disheartening.

-Squirrel or shiny jokes when they’re made by people without adhd. Yes, I do get distracted by squirrels, and shiny things, and dice. Stop pointing it out, and/or putting me into yet another box of your labeling.

-saying that I’m lazy, worthless, or a disaster when really it’s not helping. I already have that internal monologue, you adding to it and giving it some truth/extra ammunition is not. helping.

-Emotional Dysregulation. Again, because mood swings. like, I’m trying to be rightfully angry with you. Stop making me laugh with you’re silly faces or pointing out of a weird face someone made in a picture you took.

-the stigma about the hyperactive subtype. I’m inattentive. I have No Energy. Ever. Sometimes i have restlessness, but there is still no energy. Stop portraying me as bouncing off the walls, especially with caffeine. Caffeine just catches my body speed up to my brain speed, settling me down a bit, at least mentally.

-people not getting when i say I’m overstimulated, or need some time alone to process or re-energize, and following me, or continuing to do the overstimulating thing. I will literally. lose. my. mind.

-when people shut me down after I share something that is really important to me, or make fun of me for liking something an “abnormal” amount. Flashbacks to overnight camp, when whenever I said anything about horses, they said I had to do five squats, and when i got really excited about discussing the differences in riding styles/types with another person who really liked horses, but rode english, they said that it was obnoxious, when i was just.. excited to finally find someone to talk to and who felt the same way after, basically, years and years of no one getting it or wanting to listen or talking with me about the thing. To this day I don’t discuss horses with anyone, cuz it hurts so much remembering that, and the fear of it happening again is still there.

-seeing other people be ashamed about their adhd and hesitant to mention until i talk, like, super openly about having it, in like, the first 5 minutes of knowing each other. It just.. hurts.

-I’m super empathetic, not in a way that’s helpful though. Like, wincing, or limping myself because I saw you drop something on your foot, and am imagining it so vividly that it feels like it happened to me. Reading a fic about abuse or depression, and it hitting too hard and hurting me almost physically, and on a personal level because I simply cannot handle it. Feeling someone else’s pain so vividly that i can’t comfort or help them in any way, because I am so preoccupied with feeling their pain.

-never being able to finish things without starting something else. All the WIPs in my google docs, istg, i will be driven insane by it.

(y’know, this was kinda fun. As a rant, but also as a way for me to identify things about myself and my adhd that i like. Like, I know its so much shorter, but I have a hard time with positive self affirmation, so it was kinda nice. I might do it again, but just the pros part cuz the cons are kinda depressing ngl.)

(OH, Y’all should reblog with your own personal pros added on! You can add cons if you’d like to :) I’m just interested in seeing how your experiences/feeling differ from mine :) )

#adhd #adhd life #executive dysfunction #positive affimation #but it's only the begining ig #i might delete positive affirmations #idk #pros and cons #pros and cons of my adhd #nuerodivergent #nuerodivergent friends are the best #i will elaborate at some point #I've been on tumblr too long

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cotncandyboifics · 3 years

Text

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?

AO3 Link

My Main Masterpost

Pairing(s): Romantic Dukexiety

Word count: 6.9k (Remus would be proud)

Story summary: A pseudo-songfic; 5 times Remus called Virgil high, and one time Virgil called Remus high.

Content Warning: Marijuana, Characters high on Marijuana, Description of the experience of being high on marijuana, Food, descriptions of eating, descriptions of preparing food, vague anxiety descriptions, insomnia, cursing, Remus Being Remus,(let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: this is just. dorky fluff stuff. Idek lol. Enjoy

...

Virgil grimaced vaguely at his phone, which had begun to buzz periodically. More specifically; Virgil was glaring at the displayed name at the top of the screen, communicating who was currently calling him.

TrashMan 42069 is calling...

Remus never called Virgil. As in... never never. And even if he did, it was 7 am; Virgil sincerely doubted that Remus I-wake-up-at-2-pm-every-day Prince had ever been awake at this time of morning in his life.

The call didn't stop after 5 buzzes, and so Virgil picked his phone up, hurriedly accepting the call and pressing the phone to his face.

"uuum, hiiii...." Remus drawled from the other end of the line. Virgil scoffed under his breath. "I'll have a.... extra large cheese pizza, and another extra large with... extra anchovies...." Remus continued. Virgil genuinely couldn't tell whether Remus thought he was actually talking to a Pizza parlor employee or not, but more pertinently, he was very much disconcerted by the way Remus was acting. He had half a mind to ask if he'd hit his head on something, but... Virgil was gradually growing used to Remus' antics, and every time he'd asked out of his own anxieties in the past, Remus had been More Than Fine. He pushed his nerviness aside with a heavy sigh.

"Re, what are you doing?" his voice came out a bit husky, and Virgil realized this was the first time he'd spoken that day.

Remus didn't reply for a few long moments. Of course, this had exactly nothing to do with the fact that he was having a gay panic over the sound of Virgil's morning voice, which - again - was decidedly not happening.

"Haay Virge," Remus scarcely strung his words together, and they fell on top of each other as they rolled off his tongue in a quite klutzy fashion. It was almost soothing, in its way. "I thought if I pretended that you... that I was... that I thought you were a pizza man, then I'd forget to do... why I called you." Remus scrunched his nose to himself, taking his time to find his words, but eventually he got there. Virgil had been struck with realization part way through Remus' rambling, and was now scowling as if Remus could hear his facial expression through the phone.

"Remus, are you seriously high right now?" Virgil hissed.

"I mean... I think so... I definitely remember..." he pointedly enunciated each syllable of 'definitely remember,' before seemingly getting distracted by his thoughts. Virgil cleared his throat to prompt him. "...uhhhh... I don't wanna call you. Why did I... think that was...good." Virgil couldn't tell if Remus was talking to himself or not.

"Dude, go take a shower and... like, drink some water or something. I'll see you at work later. Please come in a better mental state than you're in now." Virgil hung up, setting his phone back down on his desk face-down, resuming his script read-through of the next production being put on at the theater he worked for.

Several hours later, Virgil was adjusting a few bolts on a light fixture, one of many all lined up on the long bar that he'd lowered from the fly deck earlier. He and Remus were stage technicians, and had both worked at this theater together for nearly two years now.

Remus burst through the set of doors off stage left, arms wide and his custom green tool belt slung over one shoulder like a sash. He bowed a bit dramatically to the stage and everyone on it (which, at the moment, was only Virgil; they were the only two in the theater, since Virgil regularly showed up early and Remus was here early too for once for... some reason) before stepping in long strides toward a burnt out light fixture, a few feet away from Virgil.

"You good?" Virgil murmured, feigning intense focus on a particular few wires. Remus had learned by now that Virgil was a man of few words and many thoughts; there was always a lot more to what he was saying than the small string of words he poured out.

"Heh. Sorry about that. I woke up in a funk, and though a wake and bake might... help. Didn't anticipate calling... you, though." he rubbed the back of his neck a bit sheepishly, focusing his line of sight on the company logo branded into the lighting fixture. "Can't say it won't happen again though! If I call you when I'm that stoned it means I really, really like you," Remus waggled his eyebrows, winking (specifically to highlight his sarcasm - a wink was a telltale sign that Remus' words were entirely a joke) at an utterly deadpan Virgil.

"Sure." Virgil paused for a moment. "Why're you here so early though?"

"Huh?" Remus replied, finishing twisting the bulb out of the fixture before looking up at Virgil, who was now presenting his phone screen to Remus, showing him the time. "Damn! High me can get punctuality! I thought it was three, not two... I was wondering why you were the only one here!" Remus had resumed his adjusting of the light fixture, hunkered over and partially upside down in a way that made Virgil's stomach churn. He only grunted in reply.

...

A recent sound design project had Virgil and Remus talking a lot more than usual - nearly every day. Virgil thought Remus would be a massive pain in the ass to work with, but he was a surprisingly diligent project partner. His ideas were often... eccentric, and at times too far-fetched, but they served as an excellent foundation. They clashed well with Virgil's taste and general groundedness (by extension, a minuscule helping of insecurity) that he brought to the table. They'd worked together over discord for the last few days, voice chatting and messaging through brainstorming sessions and developing their project.

It was 5pm, and Virgil was just beginning chopping some potatoes for a mash dinner when a message notification popped up on his phone.

TrashMan 42069 im tiiiired. gotta get up early to head into the theater, can we work tmrw mornin instead of tn ? wanna have an early night

Virgil smirked to himself, typing out a response.

since when do you sleep before 1am

but like, go off ig

see ya in the ams

Remus never responded, and Virgil resumed his chopping, and soon was plopping the potato portions into a pre-simmering pot.

Night arrived and fell entirely, leaving Virgil alone with his thoughts in bed, staring at the ceiling desperately as if it would put him to sleep. His bouts of insomnia made for horrible company, and yet another reminder of just how awfully lonely he truly was. He rolled onto his side, facing his bedside table just as his phone lit up and started buzzing.

Remus. Again. Odd. And it was... 11pm, according to the bleary text in the top corner of Virgil's phone screen. Not too bad, I might get to sleep by 2, Virgil noted to himself. He accepted the call before his drowsy brain could think through the decision.

"Shit, hi," Remus breathed. The usual sharp edge of his brash voice was gone, leaving soft, rolling words in its wake. Virgil sighed to himself.

"Hi."

"Did I awaken you from the sleep? I didn't think you'd answer..." Virgil recognized the drawl in Remus' voice then, but he didn't mind it so much. He was too tired to be grumpy about this.

"No, I couldn't sleep. I thought you were having an early night?" Virgil ran his fingers through his hair, rolling back onto his back.

"Ah... right... I told you that..." Remus spoke slowly, as if carrying each word, each syllable the way a mother carries her child. Virgil smiled softly into the darkness. "I was feeling like shit, so... I was just gonna, toke up. Knew I... wouldn't be able to... do any of the project... like this."

"Gotcha," Virgil mumbled. He had closed his eyes, letting himself ease into the sound of Remus' uncharacteristically gentle voice.

Remus started humming on the other end of the line, and that only proved to relax Virgil more. He felt himself grow heavy in the bed, limbs going slack and muscles and tendons untensing.

"Are you still alive?" Remus spoke suddenly. Virgil hummed.

"Yeah, I think so," Virgil said. "Your humming is putting me to sleep," he laughed lightly. Remus grew silent. "Uh, that's not a bad thing," Virgil resolved, "I have a hard time... sleeping, sometimes. Nothing usually helps. That's... uh, helping. If you wanna keep... humming, or talking..." As he spoke, Virgil realized just how weird what he was saying - what he was asking for - truly was. He cleared his throat. "Nevermind."

"I have nothing better to do right now, I can hum you to sleep, Virge," Remus' careful voice replied, ever so slowly. "If that's... what... you meant."

"Um," Virgil chewed on his hoodie sleeve absent-mindedly. "Yeah," he finally huffed, "I'd... like that."

Virgil anticipated a lot more awkwardness at this entire situation from Remus. But Remus was a generally oblivious person to awkwardness, seemingly especially so when he was stoned. He almost immediately resumed his humming, and Virgil was out like a light less than ten minutes later.

"Virgie? Did you go... fall into the sleep?" Remus asked after a while. When he was met with silence other than subtle, even breaths, he smiled to himself. He'd helped someone, even while he was like this. He truly didn't want to be doing anything else right now, so he just kept humming into the phone for a while. Maybe it'll help Virgil sleep even better.

The thoughts that an intoxicated mind produces truly are an enigma.

...

Remus and Virgil's sound design project was one of three being proposed to the directors and head technicians for the next production. The three were created as presentations, just the general idea of the design put together so that the one chosen of the three could be put into proper production by the entire sound team.

Virgil's and Remus' won.

They celebrated by indulging in a pizza lunch together before they were to head into work. A large, half pepperoni and half anchovies.

"Are those things actually good, or do you just eat them because everyone else thinks they're gross?" Virgil asked, chasing the floppy end of his next slice with his mouth. Remus grinned with a glint in his eye that Virgil knew all too well; it meant one thing, and one thing only. Mischief.

"Whah if ih's bof?" Remus spoke through his mouthful of anchovy pizza. Virgil scrunched his nose, punching Remus in the shoulder.

"Chew your food and don't talk with your mouth full, that's hecka nasty dude," Virgil laughed. Remus rolled his eyes in a very unconvincing manner, considering he was still smiling.

"Yef, mom," Remus spoke again through his unfinished mouthful. Virgil shoulder bumped him, and finally took the first bite of his next slice.

Not a week later, Virgil woke up rather late. Well, late for him; around 7am. He slapped a hand to his forehead, sitting up a little too fast. He set his hands on the bed beside himself to try and fight the onset of dizziness. After a few deep breaths and shaking his head and hair out, he reached for his phone.

No notifications, other than 2 missed calls from Remus, at 3:12am. Virgil sighed, laughing to himself slightly. He opened his messaging app.

why do u only call me when ur high lmao

...

Virgil was at the grocery store, milling through the dairy aisle, when his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He was surprised to see Remus' contact as the displayed caller ID, although not that surprised. Remus had called Virgil a few times while he wasn't high since Virgil had sent that message, usually to discuss theater-related things. Though, it wasn't like him to call at 8 in the morning. Virgil pressed the answer button, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hey Re, what's up?" Virgil said as he started checking the expiration dates on a few cartons of heavy whipping cream.

"Virgieee... Are you walking around with no shoes on?" Remus' voice was calm and subdued.

"Uh-" Virgil was so caught off guard by the question -and the petname- that he literally looked down at his feet to check. Nope, he'd definitely put on his black high tops that morning. "No? I'm at the grocery store. Wh... what?"

"I saw someone," Remus blurted, speaking slowly. Oh, right. Virgil's lips tightened into a annoyed-and-disappointed expression. Of course he's just baked again. "They looked like you, kinda... no purple hair... but jacket- or, i mean, sweater... uhhhm, no... what's it called?"

"My hoodie?" Virgil offered, glancing down at his purple patchwork hoodie.

"Yeah, yeah, that," Remus drew in a long heavy breath. "they had a hoodie." Remus stopped then, as if awaiting Virgil's explanation expectantly. Virgil scoffed.

"So. You saw someone walking around with no shoes on, who looked kind of like me only based on the fact that they were wearing a hoodie?" Virgil recited.

"Well, yeah!" Remus said as if offended that Virgil needed to ask. "They were black shoes, and... and the hoodie was... just like your black plaid one."

"The one that I like... never wear? How do you even... have you even seen me wear that?" Virgil didn't know why he was asking; he must have if he knew of it.

"You did," Remus started slowly, "one time. The pizza time. Said your other one was dirty." Remus spoke like a small child who was being scolded and felt really bad for what they'd done. "And I thought... maybe you'd... dyed your hair back. I don't know why." Virgil sighed.

"Okay? Well, I promise I have my shoes on, and my hair is still purple, and I'm not wearing that hoodie today. I'm at the grocery store right now." Virgil's voice was harsh and quick, and he immediately felt guilt drop into his stomach like a brick. He had no real reason to be this cross with Remus... he was just a bit cranky that morning. "Can I... pick you up anything while I'm here?" Virgil immediately cringed at his attempt at amendment. What a weird thing to say-

"Ooh! Are you at Trader Joe's?" Remus' voice had a newfound excitement. Virgil smiled to himself, glad that his fumbled recovery wasn't really very fumbled, thanks to Remus'... Remus-y-ness. "They have these chocolate truffles that are soooo good..."

Remus gave moderately incoherent directions to where the truffles were shelved, though Virgil knew his way around the store enough that it didn't matter. After a few minutes, he came upon a small red carboard box with cursive gold lettering and a picture of a chocolate truffle on the front.

"Found them. I... text me your address? I can be over in... well, soon. I guess I don't know where you live." Virgil invited himself over extremely awkwardly.

"You got it, sunshine! See you soon," Remus' tone was a lot lighter and he spoke more quickly and sharply, as he did when he wasn't stoned out of his mind. Perhaps the prospect of having his favorite chocolate truffles had granted him some mental clarity.

The call ended, and moments later, two texts came through from Remus. The first was an address, as promised. The second left Virgil with a familiar sense of blind confusion.

ill start heating the milk

Virgil slid his phone back into his pocket, humming to himself. He'd gotten all the items on his grocery list already, so he headed to checkout. Soon after, he was loading a couple bags into the back seat of his car, setting the two boxes of truffles for Remus on the passenger seat as he strapped in.

The drive was surprisingly short to Remus'; less than ten minutes. He triple checked the address when he pulled up to a three story Victorian house, three doors lined up at the top of a set of marble steps.

He took a breath or two, staring down at the boxes of truffles in his hands and reassessing his situation. You're standing in front of Remus' house like a massive dork because you felt bad for getting annoyed at him on the phone. You decided completely on a whim to bring him some chocolate - of all things, but at least he's the one who specifically asked for it - and show up to his house???? his house. Yeah, this totally isn't weird at all.

Virgil took the steps two at a time, ringing the doorbell at the door farthest to the right. He heard the chime from inside, followed shortly by a shrill screech. A few moments later, there was stomping sounds, and Remus came into view through the window on the door, trampling down the stairs like an eight year old rushing to an ice cream truck. He made it to the door, unlocking it and flinging it open.

"VIRGIE!" Remus yelped, looking ready to bear hug Virgil, but was quickly distracted into marveling over the boxes of truffles Virgil was clinging to his chest. "You bought two!? Gods, this is better than Christmas! Get in here," Remus stepped behind the door, allowing Virgil to step inside.

"Did you... screech, a minute ago?" Virgil asked, looking around. He and Remus were standing in what served as a tiny, tiny foyer, a small rectangle of flooring that gave direct way to a rather large flight of wooden stairs. Virgil could see a shoe cubby and coat rack at the top of the steps, and started stepping up them cautiously as Remus closed the door behind him.

"Yeah. People usually can't hear if I say words, like 'COMING!', so I just kinda... scream. It works!" Remus was tromping up the steps a few stairs below him, and Virgil quickened his pace.

"Got it..."

Virgil slipped his shoes off at the top, stuffing them in the cubby. "See? Shoes," he gestured to the shoes now fit snug in one of the cubbies. Remus smiled a bit too wide, nodding his head harshly. "I also don't have that hoodie on today," Virgil spread his arms, displaying his usual patchwork hoodie.

"I'm mainly glad your hair is still purple. It looks h- I mean, I like it." Remus coughed slightly to himself before stepping around Virgil, starting to sock-slide down the hardwood floor hall. "Kitchen's through here! The milk should be ready!"

Virgil laughed to himself, stepping into the hall to follow Remus' trail. He came upon a slightly ajar door, and seeing a glimpse of a stovetop, he slid into the room.

"I also made some whipped cream!" Remus gestured behind himself at a bowl of whipped cream on the counter as he stirred at a simmering pot of milk.

"What's... what's it for?" Virgil asked slowly, feeling like he missed something entirely.

"Oh! Right," Remus seemed to realize he hadn't filled Virgil in. "The truffles are so frickin good by themselves, but I discovered - sort of by accident, don't worry about it - that they make the best hot chocolate. And I... well, I figured we could have some!" Remus spun around at the last part, saucer of milk in hand and smiling a bit maniacally at Virgil. He stepped over to the counter where there were two mugs beside the bowl of whipped cream. "Bring them things on over here. This show can't go on without the starring role."

Virgil shuffled over to Remus, setting the truffles down beside the whipped cream bowls. He felt the need to speak, but couldn't think of any suitable words.

"one or two? I usually do two, I like mine real rich," Remus said, tearing open one of the boxes of truffles.

"Two," Virgil coughed. Remus smiled brightly at him again.

Virgil observed Remus' process. He plopped two truffles into the bottom of each mug - in the process, popping one into his mouth and offering another to Virgil, who accepted - before pouring the steaming milk over them, nearly to the brim of both mugs. Virgil hadn't expected the truffles to float, but there were two bobbing brown balls rolling around on the surface of the steaming milk in each mug. Remus retrieved a small spoon, stirring gingerly as the truffles rapidly shrunk and dissipated into the darkening milk.

"Will you grab the chocolate syrup? It's in the door of the fridge," Remus commented, beginning to spoon whipped cream onto the surface of the hot chocolate. "Oh, and- nevermind, I got it." Remus reached into a drawer beside him, pulling out a small cheese grater.

Virgil returned with the chocolate syrup, setting it beside Remus' arm.

"Check this out," Remus said, pulling another truffle from the box. He started grating it over the whipped cream dollops, and it gently snowed chocolate shavings. "Isn't it pretty?" Remus glanced at Virgil as he switched mugs.

"Yeah," Virgil breathed, watching the little flakes fall and settle on the surface of the whipped cream.

Virgil felt himself becoming infinitely more relaxed and less anxious the longer he basked in Remus' presence. It had always been this way with him, although maybe it was slightly amplified now that they were alone. He leaned himself on Remus, chin on his shoulder. Remus didn't react, other than softening his movements significantly, as though he were afraid he'd scare Virgil away.

"Yes, yes, yes! Man, this is the good stuff!" Remus exclaimed as he squirted a trail of chocolate syrup over the flakey rain on the whipped cream mountains. Virgil chuckled, reaching for the mug nearest him. "Hey! Not yet!" Remus batted his hand away lightly.

"What else could you possibly want on hot chocolate? Come on, it's getting cold," Virgil whined. Remus only smirked.

"Pantry, top shelf, you'll know it when you see it," He spoke, glancing at the cupboard door a few paces away. Virgil stepped toward the pantry cautiously, opening the door slowly. There, presented proudly on the top shelf, was a bag of mini marshmallows.

"Oh fuck yeah," Virgil reached up, realizing he was far too short to reach the bag. "Uh, one sec," he said, stepping entirely into the pantry, reaching up with all his might. Even stretching as far as he could, he barely reached the base of the top shelf. Remus chuckled from over by the mugs.

"Here, let me help." Remus came up behind him, making to reach over Virgil's head just as Virgil tried to step out of the pantry and out of Remus' way. Virgil essentially walked right into Remus' chest, face to face with his stubbled Adam's apple as he reached for the mallows easily.

Virgil was frozen in place, feeling his face grow hot. Remus looked down at him, suddenly realizing their physical predicament.

"Shit! Sorry!" Remus stepped back, mallows in hand, giving Virgil more than enough room to step out.

"s'fine, don't worry," Virgil mumbled, cheeks red and staring wide-eyed at the floor. Remus laughed a bit nervously, stepping back over to the mugs and beckoning for Virgil to follow.

Once their mugs were properly marshmallow'd (although not s'more'd; neither wanted to go full Ned Flanders on this rainy Saturday afternoon) Remus led Virgil out of the kitchen and further down the hall, to the door at the end which opened up into Remus' bedroom.

Virgil didn't know what he was expecting Remus' personal living space to look like, but whatever it was it wasn't this. There was a very cozy-looking bed that took up most of the floorspace, and a very soft patterned rug at the foot. Against the far wall, beside a wide windowsill, sat an equally cozy-looking loveseat. There were blankets and pillows absolutely everywhere, crowding the loveseat, covering the bed and turning the windowsill into a cozy sitting nook. There was no other furniture, aside from a rustic-looking wooden bedside table that matched a small, overstuffed bookshelf. The walls were entirely covered from floor to ceiling with posters, art pieces, the like; but more than anything, sketches. Scores upon scores of sketches covered every wall, pinned up with colorful tacks and a certain few of them connected to others with small segments of colored string. As well, strung up on some of the hardier tacks were a few strings of fairy lights. Those, plus the salt lamp set on the bedside table made for some extremely lovely mood lighting.

"Woah," was all Virgil could say as he looked around in wonder.

"This is where the magic happens," Remus shoulder shimmied, sidling around Virgil to sit cross-legged on his bed, beginning to nurse his cocoa as he set down the boxes of truffles. Apparently they were far too precious to keep in the kitchen, where Remus' brother could very well steal them.

"Yeah..." Virgil stepped up to a particularly large sketch, one whose tack was connected with string to several others. Something occurred to him. "Are these..." He gestured vaguely at the walls, "are these all yours?"

"All the sketches, yeah," Remus breathed, hiding behind his mug as he took a large sip. He watched Virgil over the brim as the man stared in complete awe.

"That's..." Virgil couldn't think of the right words, and so drew a large sip of his own cocoa. Remus was right, the truffles made for an incredible hot chocolate. He sighed slightly, smiling to himself.

Remus finished his cocoa, tilting his head back to slurp at the residue and remaining whipped cream as he leaned back on his bed slightly. Virgil smirked behind his own mug, licking at his whipped cream.

Remus set his mug beside the salt lamp on his bedside table, beckoning for Virgil to sit with him on the bed. Virgil did, cross-legged an leaning against a pillow that was propped against the wall. He glanced to the windowsill nook.

"You got something of a view," He murmured, craning his neck slightly to see out the window. Remus giggled.

"Yeah! That's where I saw mx. no-shoes earlier." He smiled at Virgil giddily.

"Oh, I see." Virgil smiled back. "Well, I'm here now, purple hair and truffles in the complete package," he spread his arms slightly, and Remus' smile turned into a full grin. He retrieved a truffle from the open box and popped it into his mouth, then throwing a second one at Virgil. It hit him in the chest, and he picked it up, starting to gnaw at it. "You were right, these are super fricking good," Virgil mentioned, taking another large gulp of his cocoa.

"I know right!? Where have you been all my life, beloved truffles," he picked up the unopened box and held it high in one hand, beginning to serenade it. Virgil laughed at him, slapping him on the arm.

"You're a massive dork."

Remus' eyes glinted. "Well I-" He stopped short, the glint disappearing as soon as it returned. Virgil watched his face. No, no dick jokes right now. He gulped and cleared his throat, retracting his arm and pulling out another two truffles from the other box. He held one of them out to Virgil on the palm of his hand. Virgil took it carefully, holding it between his fingers as he took the final sip of his own cocoa.

"Here," Remus reached his empty hand out to take Virgil's mug, setting it beside his own behind them on the bedside table. Remus resumed chewing his truffle, watching the comforter shift with his weight as he leaned back and forth slightly.

"Can I?" Virgil pointed to a few more sketches over the head of the bed. Remus nodded. Virgil got up onto his knees, nearly pressing his chest into the wall as he looked at the many sketches.

Remus got up onto his knees too, sort of knee-waddling over to Virgil's side. Virgil's eyes continued scanning the sketches before they fell onto a particularly familiar looking one. His breath caught in his chest. He reached up to it, tracing the familiar purple plaid of his very own patchwork hoodie. Remus cleared his throat from beside him.

They both spoke at the same time.

"Um, you should probably know that-"

"Remus, I wanted to tell you-"

Virgil turned to look at Remus then, and belatedly realized just how close together they were. Remus' lips were pursed, and Virgil could see that he was chewing at the inside corner of his mouth.

Virgil drew in a breath to speak as Remus moved slightly closer. Pursing his lips shut, he changed his mind, deciding to take a risk.

He surged forward suddenly, shutting his eyes. Remus met him in the middle, and just like that, they were kissing.

It was soft and still at first, lips pressed firmly into each other's. Remus reached one hand up, gently cupping Virgil's cheek.

Virgil pulled back suddenly, but Remus' hand didn't leave his cheek. "I-I'm sorry, I really should've- asked- I meant to say things, i mean, before-" He stopped as Remus set his other hand on Virgil's waist. His face looked incredibly soft and gentle, lips parted slightly as he looked at Virgil like he'd hung the moon.

Virgil intertwined his fingers on the back of Remus' neck, and Remus pulled Virgil back into the kiss.

...

two days later, Virgil was up late again, unable to push himself into unconsciousness. His body was restless even if his mind was exhausted - or perhaps it was the other way around, his mind restless and his body exhausted? He really couldn't tell.

It was nearing 3am, and he was sitting curled in on himself, hugging his knees as he watched the stars out his window. His phone, face-down on the bed beside him, began buzzing.

He tilted his head, sighing as he fought an oncoming wave of exhaustion. He picked up the phone, flipping it to see the caller ID, although part of him hoped knew who it would be.

He pressed the answer button, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hey, Remus."

He heard Remus gasp on the other end of the line, before murmuring a small "hi."

"I... are you not sleeping good tonight?" Remus' curious and confounded expression was almost palpable through the phone. Virgil smiled lazily, recognizing Remus' demeanor immediately.

"No, I'm not, but that's okay. The stars are pretty tonight." Virgil paused, scratching at his chin a bit. "Are you stoned again?"

A long pause. "Yeah," Remus blurted. "Sorry I... I nodded, but then, I realized... you can't see me."

Virgil smiled to himself again. "It's okay."

A long, comfortable silence followed. Virgil was too tired to feel the obligatory need to make conversation, especially with Remus. He'd be a fool to expect any awkwardness after a make out session with the spontaneous blob that is Remus, but he'd still been nervous to see or speak with him again. That all melted away now though, exhaustion and vague contentment taking its place.

"Virgie - uh, Virgil?" Remus piped up after a while, rousing Virgil from his trance.

"Yeah?"

"Do you, remember..." Remus trailed off, and didn't speak for long enough that Virgil almost responded to prompt him. "Did you come to my house, and also, kiss me, or was that a dream?" Even through his stoned lilt, Remus spoke a bit quickly, like he was trying to shove the words out of his mouth before he could change his mind.

Virgil chuckled. "That wasn't a dream, Remus. Yes, I remember." I don't think I could forget it if i wanted to tried.

"Oh." Virgil could hear the smile in Remus' voice. "Can we- I mean, do you want to, uh, do it again? Some time?" he didn't sound hesitant, no; just hopeful, and perhaps as though he felt like he needed to be excessively gentle. It was the sweetest tone Virgil had ever heard.

"I'd like that," Virgil smiled.

Remus sigh-laughed on the other end of the line, and Virgil's smile grew. "Cool," Remus said almost under his breath.

Virgil didn't do it consciously, but a big, loud yawn decided to worm its way out of him at that moment.

"Are you sleepy Virgie?" Remus asked in a strange partial baby voice. Virgil snorted at him.

"I'm literally always tired, so if the answer was no, that would be more concerning," Virgil quipped, but his voice sounded spent. Remus giggled a little.

"Can I hum to you?" Remus asked, smile still discernable in his tone. Virgil felt something warm spark in his chest, like a lighter being flicked and lit.

"I'd like that a lot, too," Virgil murmured, curling up beneath his covers as Remus started to hum.

He was out like a light in less than 5 minutes.

And if Remus stayed on the line for another half hour or so, humming to him and listening to his even breaths, who was to know?

...

Virgil felt like an idiot.

That wasn't an entirely rare feeling to him, but this particular time was different.

Despite his general edginess and rebel-against-society vibe, Virgil had never touched a drop of alcohol or gone near any intoxicating substance in his life. Until today.

He'd been Remus' boyfriend for almost three months now, and it was everything he could have hoped; haphazard night trips to convenience stores that ended in oddly romantic motorcycle rides, the odd gestures Remus's... eccentric mind came up with, and Virgil was in dire need of more hoodies he could let Remus steal. All this, but Virgil was still Virgil. He still had his anxiety disorder, he still dealt with insomnia. Though, sleeping in Remus' arms was proving an impressively effective remedy to the latter.

So, when Remus suggested Virgil look into the medical benefits of marijuana in regards to both anxiety and insomnia, Virgil was... intrigued, to say the least.

He did find a lot of supporting evidence through his research, and... well, he thought, what the hell, right? If Remus smokes it pretty much every day, and if this many articles are claiming its reliability... what harm would it do to try?

So here he was, sitting on his couch, having taken a couple of edibles, waiting for the high to hit him. His hand ghosted over his jean pocket, assuring himself that his phone was there in case he needed to call 911 or something. He was trying to do breathing exercises to maintain some sort of calm, but sitting still wasn't his strong suit.

He'd chosen edibles since he didn't want to have to deal with the whole... smoke and coughing side of things. And he really didn't like the sound of vaping. He figured this would be fine as an introductory experience, but he realized that he had no clue when the edibles would kick in.

He pulled out his phone, typing into google.

Marijuana edibles generally take 30 minutes to an hour to induce any psychological effects on the consumer.

Oh.

Well, he figured, there was no way he could sit still for that long.

He stood, deciding he'd make himself some dinner. Something to busy his hands with, and the leftovers he'd planned on heating up would last another day or two anyways.

He settled on some fettuccine alfredo, fairly simple but one of his childhood favorites. He had a feeling he'd appreciate the comfort food while he was... in an altered state of mind.

Virgil, however, hadn't accounted for the fact that he had an almost unnaturally high metabolism, and before he'd even gotten the pasta in the boiling water, things started to get a little funky.

The first thing Virgil noticed, before he'd even registered that the edibles were kicking in, was how he could hear his thoughts. Not literally, but it felt as though his stream-of-consciousness thoughts were more slow and clear to him, as though he was speaking directly to himself.

As he thought this, his vision suddenly came into alarming focus, and felt oddly like an unstable skyscraper. He stared down at his feet, and they seemed so far away, the floor looked far too far away... He gripped the counter nearest to him, trying to steady himself even if he wasn't actually falling. He didn't feel like he had any control over his center of balance, and even if he was mostly stock-still as a pencil, he thought he might fall down at any moment, down the many stories of building beneath him. But there was no stories beneath him... it was only his legs, which he didn't remember being so long. He stared a little harder at his feet. They weren't abnormally far away, were they?

Virgil vaguely registered the sound of over-boiling water as the realization hit him.

Oh. So this is what it's like.

He turned so that his lower back was stable against the counter, sliding slowly down onto his butt. Standing didn't feel safe right now, even if that made no sense.

He didn't really like this. He felt so isolated, so alone in this moment. He was too out of it to focus hard enough on those thoughts for them to really take root, but he was generally aware of them. So, he did the first thing he could think to do.

He pulled his phone very slowly and carefully out of his pocket, as if he thought it was a brittle sugar cookie. He stared at the dark screen for a solid minute, wondering why it wasn't turning on. Then he realized he had to actually touch the screen for that to happen, and so he did.

From there, it was relatively easy; he unlocked his phone, found the calling app, scrolled around a little haphazardly up and down the contact list before finding Remus' contact.

If anyone could help him feel less alone, if anyone knew what he was experiencing... it would be him.

He took a deep breath and held it as he pressed the call button, bringing the phone to his face as it rang.

It only rang twice before Remus answered. "Hello, Jack Skellington! What can I do for you this evening?" Remus' voice sounded a little extra mischievous, and Virgil couldn't even begin to place why.

He was quiet for a little too long, vaguely trying to decide what to say. "Hi." Not the most eloquent, but it worked for a start.

"Hi," Remus replied, the troublemaking lilt of his voice dissipating slightly. "Is everything okay, Surly Temple?"

Virgil giggled a bit. Your brother is funny. You keep stealing his nicknames for me. "I'm, yeah. Sorry, talking. it's hard. Right now." Virgil spoke haltingly, each word firm but isolated from the last.

"Hmmm..." Remus stroked his mustache from the other end of the line. Virgil giggled again, realizing he couldn't actually see Remus stroking his mustache, but could imagine it vividly all the same. There was no doubt in his mind that he was doing exactly that.

"Oh, 'm high," Virgil added quite belatedly.

"Oh! Well that makes a lot more sense!" Remus laughed, but quickly composed himself again. "What are you doing? Are you feeling okay? Is this your first time? What's happening?"

"Skyscraper," Virgil replied matter-of-factly, as if that cleared the air entirely.

"...right..." Remus replied slowly. "Stormcloud, is it okay if I come over? I don't... I want you to be- uh, to feel safe right now."

"Yes, please," Virgil clung to the phone like it was Remus' arm. "I miss you I'm kinda scared," his words slurred together, but at least he managed to say something slightly coherent. Remus grunted in acknowledgement.

"Okay. I'll be there in ten. Want me to stay on the line?" Virgil could hear shuffling around in the background.

"What're you doin?" He asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at the refrigerator door, since he couldn't actually look at Remus.

"Putting on my shoes, silly! What room are you in right now?" Remus replied, a sense of protectiveness twinged in his voice.

"Kitchen. floor." Virgil swirled his fingers on the wooden floor.

"Okay. Do you want me to stay- oh, fuck it. I'm staying on the line till I get there, okay Virgie?" Virgil heard the sound of a door slamming, followed by vague trafficky noises.

"You're coming," Virgil spoke, registering it in his mind finally.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Remus repeated, and the sound of Remus' car starting sounded shortly after.

Virgil smiled at nothing. "I love you."

The words were a bit slurred together, but he heard them out of his own mouth loud and clear. He almost clapped a hand over his mouth, a little horrified that he'd just said that.

Sure, he'd known he loved Remus for a while now, but they hadn't said it before. He'd almost said it, once, earlier that week while he was laying in Remus' arms on a drowsy Sunday morning, watching the lines of his face shift and harden as he slowly woke up. But he didn't. And now he'd just gone and said it, while he was stoned out of his mind for the first time, sitting on his kitchen floor about to break into tears-

Remus' voice, a little bit strained, interrupted Virgil's thoughts.

"I love you too."

A pause. "I'm almost there, okay? Everything's gonna be fine."

Virgil snuggled down further into his hoodie.

"I know, cus you'll be here."

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #dukexiety #sanders sides fanfiction #ts virgil #ts remus #human au #5 + 1 fic #5 + 1 things #songfic

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fuckinuchihas · 3 years

Note

Emergency request! Around valentine day I requested an emergency request where male reader felt lovable and lead to sugawara confessing. And it was really comforting so I know it's weird but I've want a part 2. I just went to a wedding and it kinda hurts seeing people be in so much love. I was think just a part 2 where reader is like " do you really love me" and suga tells him yes and then proposes please and thank you , your work is amazing.

Okay so this came spilling out, apparently I really wanted to write this too! Well I hope you enjoy and while it does start off with insecurity and sad thoughts, I promise you its 100% happy ending, the happiest of endings so no worries please <3

Something has changed, shifted...and you’re not sure where you went wrong but you can feel him pulling away.

It’s been a while since this beautiful man came into your life and turned everything on its head by actually wanting you. Sometimes you still wonder if it’s a dream but then you’ll wake up with a feathery silver strand of hair stuck to your lips or his arms wrapped so tightly around you that it feels like he’s just as terrified to let go as you are that he’ll want to someday.

That day seems to get closer and closer with every breath.

It started with his jacket.

He’d been leaving it at your place for a while now but when you opened the small closet off to the side of your bedroom the familiar navy blue was gone, as was a couple of his shirts that had managed to make their way into your laundry.

You told yourself he probably just needed them because it was getting cooler, but then he wasn’t...wearing them.

Then there was the early Saturday morning spent with a friend, which by itself wasn’t a big deal, but he’d never intentionally left you out of his plans, not-not even as a friend.

You rack your brain trying to find anything that you could have done to change things...were you too clingy? Too insecure? Too...overwhelming?

Every insecurity you could think of suddenly rose to the surface and made it hard for you to breathe.

No...No, you forced the thoughts back down. Sugawara wasn’t perfect, not nearly as much as you’d initially believed but he wasn’t a coward or deceitful. If he wanted the relationship to end, he’d tell you outright. Even if it was a difficult conversation.

You sigh to yourself as you change from your slippers into actual shoes so you can check the mail. You shake yourself out of the funk as much as you can on your way down to the small mail office in your apartment complex.

When you open the box you feel a moment of soft surprise before your heart sinks back to your stomach.

Yet another wedding invitation.

You don’t mind spending money on a gift or even dressing up for the occasion when it’s someone close to you but the more weddings you attend the more disheartened you become.

Maybe that’s it…

Maybe Koshi has picked up on your wedding fever/depression and got scared away. You hadn’t really thought about it when mentioning your future plans that you had in mind. You didn’t need all the fancy stuff, not into the large crowds or dove releases, or any other number of shenanigans that normally turned out to be disasters.

Even if it were just you and him, a couple friends to witness and someone to officiate…that’s all you cared about.

*sigh*

Your phone buzzes in your pocket just after you step back through your front door and you glance down to see a text from the man himself.

Message from Koshi: You free this Saturday?

You narrow your gaze down at the phone.

Message to Koshi: You ask that as if I’m not always free on Saturdays….

Message from Koshi: Well it’s only polite to ask, otherwise I think it would be considered kidnapping...adult napping? Personnapping

You chuckle under your breath despite it all and smile down at your phone.

Message to Koshi: I’ll try to pencil you in.

Message from Koshi: Okay, I deserved that one...still, don’t make plans.

Message to Koshi: Well I can’t make any promises...if Kakashi sensei shows up I don’t know if I can hold back.

You know wherever he is right now he’s rolling his eyes at you but that’s okay, because he’s smiling too...or at least you hope he is. The old Sugawara would have smiled and laughed…

Message to Koshi: Is Saturday the next time I’ll see you?

You were almost too afraid to send it, not wanting to see the affirmation of that given it’s only Wednesday and you’ve gotten used to not sleeping alone.

Your mind goes through a variety of scenarios for the thing Saturday, is it a breakup thing? Is he going to explain why he’s been so distant? Is it...no, you won’t get your hopes up. It’s better to deal with worst case scenarios so you know how to handle yourself with whatever comes to pass.

Finally your phone buzzes again and you let out a low sigh of relief.

Message from Koshi: Of course not, I’ll be over for later...want me to stop and get food?

Message to Koshi: No, I’ll take care of dinner. You just bring yourself. TTYL

Message from Koshi: TTYL

That’s another thing that’s changed lately….he still says he loves you, it’s still there and it feels nice to hear it. But it’s changed somehow, like it’s as if he has to push it out rather than it flowing naturally. He gets this odd look in his eyes sometimes when he says it and if you didn’t know him better you’d worry he didn’t mean it at all.

But Sugawara isn’t insincere or deceptive.

Saturday comes and you wake up alone, it’s...not a great feeling.

You blindly reach for you phone waiting until your vision is actually useful before you check your messages.

Message from Koshi: Went for breakfast, bbs.

Well...that’s not so bad.

You check the clock, it’s a little earlier than you usually get up… maybe an hour or so. You contemplate going back to bed but if he’s getting you something warm to eat and drink, it might be worth staying awake.

When that hour passes alongside another, you start to worry.

Message to Koshi: Everything okay?

Almost immediately you have a response.

Message from Koshi: Yes, sorry I got caught up with something but I’ll be back in 10.

You try not to focus on the long absence instead, moving to get dressed. Something about still being in bed half naked leaves you feeling vulnerable.

When he enters the apartment a few moments later, as promised, he’s wearing a warm smile, flushed cheeks, and holding out a bag of piping hot food and a warm drink that heats your hand when you take it.

Things aren’t adding up… how has he been gone so long, gotten caught up in something unplanned, and still carrying hot food and drink when he returns?

Something dark and ugly curls in your belly.

“Suga…” you start, wanting to bring it up but part of you is also terrified that this will spur the impending talk ahead even faster.

“Yes?”

“Nevermind,” you say, taking a sip of your drink. “This is good thank you.”

“Of course. Anything for you, Love.”

It almost hurts more than it heals.

It’s nearly time to get ready, he mentioned wanting to leave around seven so you start to ask questions. “Where are we going? What should I wear? Etc…” all the accompanying answers are vague at best, but you don’t push. Despite the logical part of your brain knowing you need to confront this, something that feels protective, or like a defense mechanism, is screaming at you not to push. As if holding your tongue will make him want to keep you around, even for just a minute longer.

When he shows back up at your apartment after leaving to get dressed, you feel completely lost. He looks good, well he always looks good but...fuck you were not prepared for the sight of him in dark slacks with a crimson button up and a silver vest that hugs his form.

“I am-I’m completely underdressed...why didn’t you tell me…” you say, feeling both frustrated and emotional because wouldn’t it just be your luck that the man you love looks his most beautiful on the night he breaks your heart.

“You look amazing, don’t worry… there’s not going to be a crowd, c’mon.” he says, offering his arm and though neither of you usually engage in pda, there’s something that seems so inherently romantic about it that you can’t stop yourself from taking it.

“Are you willing to tell me where we’re going...now?” you ask, but he just winks at you and shakes his head.

You try to hide your frustration, it must not work too well because he just laughs, “Don’t worry, I’m not personnapping you, if you don’t like it we can leave.”

You move together side by side for a while until a familiar path comes into view.

“The pier?” you ask, blinking at him.

“Surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner.”

“Why did you get all dressed up for the pier? Wait when did they put lights up? Is this new?” you ask, glancing around at the countless strings of fairy lights hung from the posts of the nearby shelter and all along the handrail of the dock.

“I’m not sure, I think it’s a recent addition…” he says, and you can hear a slight quiver in his voice.

“Oh okay,” you say, as you let him lead you to the small picnic area.

On the table there’s a huge basket filled with food and a bucket with a bottle of wine chilling.

“Koshi this is- this is-” you want to say sweet, romantic, amazing… but the words get caught in your throat.

Surely he wouldn’t do all this, make this amazing picnic just for you, only to dump you...right? Like there’s such a thing as too amicable at the end of a relationship…

“You don’t like it?” he asks, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck.

“No! No that’s not it at all,” you say in a rush, the volume a little loud in your hurry to reassure him that it’s amazing. “I just...can we sit and talk for a minute first?”

“Yeah, of course…” he says, though he’s still clearly very nervous. Maybe he knows you’ve caught onto him…

“Sugawara-”

“Koshi-” he says, with insistence.

You nod, “Koshi, I just-I’ve noticed that you’ve been pulling away lately...It’s not that I-I mind I guess, I just, I want you to know that if I’ve done anything or...or you’ve just changed your mind-”

“I haven’t,” he says firmly, reaching his hand out to pull your chin up so he can look directly into your eyes. There’s a soft whisper of your name but then he’s smiling and shaking his head, tears forming at the edge of his eyes. “I guess there’s only one way to prove it to you though.”

“What?” you ask, a little alarmed that he seems so close to crying and this close you can watch it happen.

He says your name, like a whisper like a prayer and then he drops to one knee in front of you.

Your brain, the one that’s constantly overthinking everything, goes still in that moment. All whirring brought to a quick, silent stop.

“For me it wasn’t immediate, though sometimes I like to think it was because it makes me look a little brighter, but falling for you was a slow progression of events to the point that I didn’t even realize how deep I was until you told me that no one would ever want you... I just sat there staring at you thinking you were the most fascinating, most hilarious, most warm human being I’ve ever known,” he says, hand shaking as he reaches into his pocket.

Your pulse spikes but you’re still struck frozen, speechless.

“Every day your smile, your laugh, the way your nose pulls up when you’re angry, all of it...it makes you even more gorgeous than you were the first time I saw you...I haven’t been pulling away, I’ve been trying to surprise you with this,’ he says, opening a small bright red box up and holding it out to you.

You gasp when you see the minimalist band, gems embedded into the metal to give it a smooth finish rather than the traditional engagement rings that stick out like a sore thumb.

“Koshi I-Are you sure?”

“I’m absolutely certain,” he says, “The question here, is are you? Will you marry me?” he asks, a soft whisper of your name shakily coming out after the question but you barely even heard it over the loud pounding of your heart in your ears.

“Yes! Yes yes, no takebacksies,” you say, feeling and maybe sounding like a damned kid you’re so gleefully happy.

“Not even if Kakashi shows up?” he says, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Not even then,” you say, pulling him in closer until he gives in and gives you what you want.

You get lost in the kiss for a bit, long enough that you’re grateful none of the food was meant to be served hot.

“I kinda thought you were going to break up with me…” you confess softly, a little while later while lazily plucking grapes from the bunch and passing them over your shoulder to your boyfr-fiance...your fiance. The word itself gives you a rush of excitement up your spine.

He splutters a bit but eventually just decides to chide you a little, “What do you take me for? An idiot?” he says, “Only an idiot would leave you...I was umm, I was planning this and I was slowly moving some of your things over to my apartment. You didn’t notice?”

“No...I noticed your stuff missing but not mine…”

He sighs, and pats you on the head. “Of course you did. I’m sorry, Love. Next time I’ll just ruin the surprise and tell you.”

You laugh, “Oh so you plan on proposing again?”

He shrugs, “You never know.”

You do know...two weeks before your tenth anniversary, Sugawara stops grading papers to look up at you while you’re drinking your morning cup and says, “I’m going to propose to you in two weeks...so don’t get any crazy ideas like I’m leaving you again.”

You choke on your drink and glare at him when he laughs at you for it.

“You’ll be lucky if I say yes, Sugawara Koshi!”

“Yes I will.”

Thanks so much for reading!!

Masterlist

#not naruto #not knb #haikyuu!!#sugawara x reader #sugawara fluff #sugawara proposal #🚨 emergency request 🚨#kel answers #my stuff

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pandoraborn · 3 years

Text

THROW ME TO THE GROUND (and watch me fly)

Chapter two (Part one on AO3) word count: 3566 words Characters: Tommyinnit, Wilbur Soot, Niki Nihachu, JSchlatt Content: mention of depression

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It feels like an ordinary, stupid day. Tommy’s phone alarm goes off, and he wants to hit snooze so he can go back to sleep. When he reaches out to hit the button, he sees what time it is.

It’s almost eleven in the morning.

With a loud groan, he flings his phone across the room and places his pillow above his head. If he can shut out the day, it won’t happen and he can go back to sleep. For a second, he even forgets why he’s in a bad mood until he hears a knock at his door, followed by Phil telling him to get up. Tommy lays there until he’s sure Phil’s gone back downstairs before he finally drags himself out of bed. The reality of today settles in, and as he kicks the blanket off his feet, he can feel the foul mood settle over him like a mini storm over him and him alone.

It’s been like this for a few days, since the election results. Tommy knows he can’t keep moping over the loss, but he can’t pull himself out of his funk either. No one’s confronted him about it either; it’s like they know he’s miserable and sad, and they’re letting him be sad about it. He half wishes someone would snap him out of it so he can move on, but he’s also glad for the space. The chance to really process his emotions is therapeutic in its own way.

It’s not like it’s easy to turn depression off anyway.

Stumbling for his dresser, he grabs a change of clothes before walking toward the bathroom. It’s unused right now, which he’s grateful for. He can’t tell if his brothers are home or gone, but it doesn’t matter, the bathroom is all his. He closes and locks the door behind him, turns up the shower radio, and proceeds to spend the next hour cleaning himself up. For this hour, he can forget about the outside world as he belts along to a few depressing songs. When he’s done, he turns the radio off and lets himself shiver in the chill air for a moment before putting his clothes on. It’s harder when his wings are still wet, but he manages, finally.

It isn’t until he gets out of the bathroom that Tommy has the sense that something about today is going to be different. He doesn’t know what that means, but he can’t shake the feeling. Maybe it’s the fact that Wilbur isn’t pounding on the door begging to be let in. Maybe it’s the fact he can’t hear Techno yelling from downstairs about something or other.

Come to think of it, he can’t hear Phil anymore either.

He makes his way downstairs, wings dragging on the ground behind him. The house feels eerily empty, which isn’t helping his mood any. At least there’s leftover snacks in the kitchen that he can eat, but Tommy isn’t all that hungry anymore. The food itself doesn’t even look that appetizing, mostly some sandwiches. By the looks of it, there’s only a couple remaining.

He forces himself to eat what’s left. He checks his comms as well, looking for any messages. Other than random public messages that don’t interest him, he doesn’t have any private messages to read through either. There’s no note in the kitchen to tell him where the rest of his family’s gone. He doesn’t feel like searching anywhere else for some note, either. As far as he’s concerned, everyone’s just left him alone for whatever reason. The silence isn’t helping his mood, and Tommy finds himself wondering if he can get away with going back to bed.

Probably not, as he’s already showered and dressed for the day. He might as well go outside and let the outside world know he’s still alive. There’s also the fact that he still can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. Well, not wrong, but that something is different about today. Everything feels slightly to the left and sideways, if that makes any sense. His brain agrees with his logic, so naturally, it must be true. He nods absently at his brain.

There’s only half a sandwich left, so Tommy pushes the plate away. He’s done eating, and he’s not bothered with dealing with the food. In his mind, Phil’s the one who left it out to begin with, so it can be Phil’s problem later. Tommy turns away from the kitchen, pocketing his communicator and exits the house, locking the door behind him.

L’Manburg is already bustling with life. Neighbors are out and socializing, the streets are busy, and shops are crowded. Already it feels too noisy for Tommy, and he takes a step back, regretting coming outside. He doesn’t want to deal with so many people, he knows that anyone he runs into is going to shoot him looks of pity, or offer their condolences, and the mere thought is enough to give him a headache.

He’s about to turn right back around when a distant voice calls his name.

Blinking, he raises a hand to shield his eyes against the sun to see who’s calling for him. In the distance, he can see Wilbur flying toward him. Next to Wilbur is Niki, who’s running in an attempt to keep up with Wilbur. The sight would be hilarious if Tommy wasn’t already in a bad mood. He doesn’t want to deal with either of them, but he remains in place, making some attempt to pick his wings up.

“Tommy!” Wilbur looks far too excited for Tommy. Scowling, he crosses his arms and waits for Wilbur to land on the ground. “Tommy, I tried to get a hold of you.”

“Liar,” Tommy scoffs. He pulls out his communicator and wiggles it with a raised eyebrow. “I have zero messages, Wil. Are you sure it was me you were reaching out to?”

“Oh, I thought he messaged you,” Niki cuts in. She looks out of breath, doubled over with her hands on her knees. She, too, is wearing a smile on her face and looking far too excited to be legal. “We were wanting to get ahold of you earlier, but Phil mentioned you were sleeping over the comms.”

“Do I look like I’m sleeping now?” Tommy scrunches his face up. No longer does he feel depressed, now he’s simply irritated. “Because I’ve been up and showered for…” He pauses to check the time. “Just over an hour now. You had plenty of time to reach out to me, and it would have saved you both the trouble of running all the way back here just for me.”

“Okay, maybe I forgot to message you in my excitement, but I’ve got news for you.” Wilbur stretches his wings out to shake them out, before folding them back. “You’ll love this.”

“He’s got big news,” Niki adds, not at all helpfully. Tommy wants to cover her mouth with duct tape. He doesn’t even know why she’s here; isn’t she supposed to be working at the white house? He can’t imagine there being much free time; it’d been hard enough with him and Wilbur in charge.

“Are you both going to keep me in suspense, or have you come here just to rub shit in my face? Because I have important things to do today.” He leans back when Wilbur moves closer, still looking obnoxious. Tommy has never wanted to punch his brother more than he does now.

Wilbur rolls his eyes as he grabs at Tommy and spins him around. Tommy sputters, trying to pull away from Wilbur, though without much success. The man has an iron grip when he wants to. “What the hell, man? What are you doing? Don’t touch me.”

“I’m making sure you look presentable, Tommy.” Wilbur picks at his clothes, humming to himself. “You have a big meeting coming up today. Sooner, rather than later.”

Tommy swats Wilbur’s hand away in another attempt to put distance between them. “What are you on about, Wilbur? Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on? Stop touching me, my clothes are fine!”

“I can’t just tell you, because you won’t believe me. Here’s what I need you to do though. Are you listening to me?” Wilbur finally pulls back, giving Tommy the desired space. He crosses his own arms and peers down at Tommy.

Tommy makes a big show of rolling his eyes, it includes rolling his head as well. “I have no choice but to listen to you, big man. You’re keeping me pinned down in our front lawn, and I’ve barely started my own day. Where is everyone, anyway? Why have they all left?”

“Oh, I don’t know where Techno went. I think he went somewhere with Skeppy and Bad, and Phil was with- this is all beside the point, Tommy. Okay, listen. This is a big day for us. For you. I need you to pick your wings up, put a smile on your face, and fly on over to the white house. I’ve arranged a meeting between you and Schlatt.”

Tommy scowls. He doesn’t like how any of this sounds, he especially doesn’t want to talk to the president. Tommy can’t keep being happy for the man, no matter how close he is to the family, just because he won an election fair and square. Tommy still hates the idea of the election to begin with. He feels like he’d lost everything because of it.

“I don’t want to talk to Schlatt,” Tommy mutters. “You can stop trying to force me to be happy, because I don’t want to be.” He turns around, deciding to head back inside. He’s blocked by one of Wilbur’s wings, so Tommy just grabs at bone, trying to push the wing out of the way. The gold seems especially brighter this time around, and even though Tommy knows it’s the sun glinting off of the feathers, it’s still irritatingly Wilbur, which means the man is going to go all soft on him.

“Tommy.”

There it is. That gentle, comforting ‘I’m about to cheer you up’ voice that Tommy melts at every time. With a sigh, Tommy slumps forward, letting Wilbur’s wing go as he turns to face his brother.

“Tommy, I know this hit you harder than most people realize.” Wilbur’s wearing a smile that’s just as bright as his wings. Tommy can feel himself tearing up just at the sight. Not because Wilbur is there, but because Wilbur’s digging at wounds he wants closed. “I know this hurts you. I can see it in your eyes, it’s the way you slouch when you walk. It’s the way you don’t sleep much at night. I know you’re depressed. I know better than anyone how much you’re hurting, which is why I’ve talked to Schlatt to begin with.”

“Don’t, Wilbur.” Tommy tries to pull back, but he bumps into Niki. She has to know too. He realizes that’s why she’s here, is to offer comfort of her own. He’s torn between pulling away from both of them, and seeking out comfort he wouldn’t normally get. “Don’t try to cheer me up, okay? We lost, and I’m okay with that.”

“It’s okay Tommy,” Niki says. Her own voice matches Wilbur’s, and now Tommy’s cringing. He wants to plug his ears and not listen to this. “You’re allowed to feel things, you’re allowed to be sad. Your brother just wants to help, you don’t have to feel obligated to listen to him.” She reaches out a hand, as if to offer physical comfort, but after Wilbur’s manhandling, Tommy pulls back.

“Don’t touch me, just...stop. Wilbur, stop. You don’t have to do anything for me, alright? I’m a big man, I can handle myself just fine.”

“You might think you’re okay, but we all can tell you’re not,” Wilbur says. He’s no longer sounding so gentle. It’s still there, but it’s now laced with a firmness that Tommy only hears when Wilbur is annoyed. “You’re going to this meeting, alright? I don’t even know what Schlatt has planned, I just wanted him to help you feel better. Let’s go. Pick your wings up and fly with me.”

“What about me?” Niki asks. She frowns at Wilbur. “You can’t leave me behind.”

“I’ll carry you, of course.” Wilbur snorts. “I told you to stay behind in the first place, it was your choice to chase after me.” He playfully pushes her before reaching out to grab at one of Tommy’s wings. “Let’s go big man.”

Tommy swats at Wilbur’s hand again before taking the initiative to spread his own wings out, letting the sun hit the blues and whites just right. “Fine,” he agrees. “Lead the way, Wilbur.”

Wilbur wraps his arms around Niki and flaps his wings, hoisting himself up off the ground. He hovers in the air, watching as Tommy follows suit. It’d been a few days since Tommy had flown, so he feels rusty, but he’s lifting himself up after Wilbur. It takes another few flaps before he can stay in the air.

“You got it?” Wilbur’s watching him with another expression of concern. Tommy shrugs before lifting himself higher, feeling more confident in the air.

“Yeah, lead the way.” He motions Wilbur ahead. Wilbur turns, adjusting Niki in his arms, and soars off, rising higher into the air. Tommy exhales when the wind hits his face, relishing the feeling of being in the air again. He’d forgotten how nice it feels to just fly, and for a brief moment, he feels all the uneasiness and sadness melt away. He even manages a genuine smile when he sees Wilbur doing flips in the air, just to watch him. Niki’s even waving at him.

He can’t remember why he’d been so down to begin with. Or rather, he wants to forget being in a bad mood. When they finally land in front of the white house, everything settles back in like a heavy blanket, and he feels negativity washing across him again. Wings drooping, he considers planting himself down right here, but Wilbur is grabbing his arm anyway.

“Come on Tommy, don’t be like this. You were fine a second ago. Call that feeling back, yeah?” He’s still smiling, so Tommy leans against him for comfort. He expects Wilbur to push him away, but instead, Wilbur is wrapping an arm around him and guiding him inside. “I’m here, I’ll stick by you the whole time, okay? It’s just Schlatt, so we’ll be okay.”

They make their way up to Schlatt’s office. Tommy keeps his head ducked the whole time, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone else who works here. Office worker, cabinet members and...

“Tommy!” Schlatt’s booming, cheerful voice cuts through his thoughts. Startled, Tommy reels back. Schlatt is walking toward them, already gesturing toward his office. “Tommy, just the man I wanted to see!”

Even Schlatt is wearing a bright smile. It’s hard for Tommy to be depressed when even Schlatt is radiating warmth. Why does everyone have to be so nice to him? He knows he’d been that obvious, but he doesn’t know why today of all days, everyone is treating him so nicely.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Tommy asks. Schlatt places a hand on Tommy’s back, right between his wings and pushes him into the office. “What are all of you up to, what sort of meeting is this?”

“Tommy, Wilbur was telling me you’ve been depressed,” Schlatt continues. He sits in his chair, gesturing for Tommy to sit down on the sofa along the wall. “Please, have a seat.”

Tommy looks around before sitting down. It’s just him and Wilbur in the office; Niki had disappeared somewhere, probably to go back to work. Wilbur’s shutting the office door, so Tommy resigns himself to following orders. He folds his wings carefully and sits carefully on the edge of the couch, resting his hands in his lap.

“Tommy, Wilbur was telling me you’ve been sad,” Schlatt repeats. “So I have an offer for you. I haven’t even told Wilbur this, but I’ve been contemplating something for a few days anyway.”

“What, you’re going to hold a parade in my honor?” Tommy scoffs, briefly making eye contact with the president. He looks back down, not able to hold it for long. Schlatt is still staring at him; Tommy can feel the stare boring a hole through his skull and it’s making him uncomfortable.

“I ran by myself, Tommy. I don’t have a second in command.”

Schlatt really doesn’t beat around the bush. The news is significant somehow, but Tommy’s cold. He’s not sure why he’s cold, but it’s as if the heat had been sucked out of the office all at once, leaving him shivering. He has a brief flashback to when he’d stood shivering after his shower. At the time, he didn’t know why he chose to be cold, but now everything is starting to feel important. Everything is flipping sideways and left all over again, and in confusion, he stares back up at Schlatt.

“What?”

He hates that his voice is small and uncertain. But he can’t raise the volume, he can’t bring himself to move. Hell, he’s struggling to breathe. “What are-”

“Breathe, Tommy.” Wilbur’s rubbing his back, pressing his knuckles right in between his shoulder blades and working his way up. “Tommy, you need to relax.”

“Tommy, listen.” Schlatt lifts himself from the chair and perches on his desk instead. “I know this probably should go to Wilbur, but I was there with you both when you built this country. I know how much work and sacrifice you both went through to make it what it is today. What Tommy sacrificed to Dream.”

“We’re cool with Dream I think,” Tommy whispers. He’s trembling. “Schlatt I don’t… I’m not…”

“Tommy, I’m asking you to be my vice president. My second in command. No one knows this country better than you do, no one else loves this country more than you.”

He blinks back tears. “But… Wilbur…?”

Wilbur shakes his head. “I had my run. I had my run for months, and it was great. But I lost the election, Tommy. It’d be really awful for Schlatt to up and make me vice president. You get a pass because you weren’t running for president, and he’s well within his rights to choose someone who would help him.”

The urge to say ‘no’ is strong. He wants to spread his wings and jump out the nearest window, to get away from this. It’s pity, that’s what it is. Schlatt is only offering this because they all want Tommy to stop moping in his bedroom. Tommy wants to stop moping in his bedroom, and he doesn’t know how else to turn it off.

What would be the harm, anyway? Who is it hurting if he accepted the position? Quackity would support him, Niki would be ecstatic, everyone would support him.

And Tommy?

Tommy would be elated to have some semblance of control over this country. Slowly, he gets to his feet, still feeling numb. Half of his mind is screaming no, the other half is screaming yes. To be vice president would mean everything though, he’d be an idiot to refuse.

“Yes,” Tommy finally says. His voice cracks on the single utterance, but the grin is reappearing on his face. Schlatt’s grin is bigger now as he offers a hand for Tommy to shake.

“Glad to have you aboard Tommy. We’ll make a formal announcement soon to let everyone know.”

“I promise I’ll…” he trails off, trying to find the right words to say. What does a vice president even say? It’s time to sound professional now, and he even straightens his posture, letting his wings spread. He’s too caught up in the moment to notice the way Schlatt is staring at his wings.

“I promise I’ll help maintain this country’s dignity,” he finally says. “I do my best to...um. To… to uphold all the values we established.” He glances sideways at Wilbur, who beams.

“Very fitting words Tomathy. I’ve taught you well.” Wilbur ruffles Tommy’s hair before pulling back. “I’m so proud of you. Both of you; my best friend and my little brother, running the country together. You’ll make me so proud.”

“Yeah?” Tommy giggles. Neither of them notice the frozen smile on Schlatt’s face, or the way his eyes are wide, or the way he’s clenching one hand into a fist.

Or the way he’s still staring at their wings.

When Tommy turns back to him, Schlatt instantly warms again, patting Tommy on the shoulder. “Right, Mr. Vice president. I’ll expect to see you at work soon. Better come prepared and dressed for the job, right?”

“Of course.” Tommy feels so much better than he’s felt in days. “I won’t let you down.”

“Go on, get out of here. You and Wilbur can go celebrate. I have things to tend to here. I’ll see you in a day or two though, ready to work.”

Tommy and Wilbur wave goodbye as they leave the office. The teen feels lighter all over again, and this time when he walks, his wings don’t drag on the ground. He may be sixteen years olds, but he’d been saddled with a very important position, and he’s not about to let his country down.

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weirdcanucks · 3 years

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For today's feature film, we look at Kevan Funk’s critically-acclaimed debut feature Hello Destroyer. The film swept Vancouver Film Critics’ Circle, winning 5 awards including Best Canadian Picture, Best BC Film, and Best Director. I've compiled a bunch of reviews and filmmaker interviews on the institutionalized violence, hockey culture, the craft of filmmaking and the Todd Bertuzzi case.

Synopsis

A young junior hockey player Tyson Burr’s life is shattered when a routine hockey play goes bad. In an instant his life is abruptly turned upside down; torn from the fraternity of the team and the coinciding position of prominence, he is cast as a pariah and ostracized from the community. As he struggles with the repercussions of the event, desperate to find a means of reconciliation and a sense of identity, his personal journey ends up illuminating troubling systemic issues around violence.

Where to Stream

CBC Gem if you are in Canada

Keep Reading for

Directors Guild of Canada post screening Q&A: does the Todd Bertuzzi case inspired the film?

Aggressively Canadian: An interview with the director Kevan Funk

Hello Destroyer explores the thin line between hockey menace and model

Review from Josh Cabrita of VIFF

More filmmaker Q&As

Content Warning: Violence

🎤 DGC Post screening Q&A

Audience: I grew up in BC. I remember in high school, the Todd Bertuzzi case was hung over the news of the city for a while. And I was just wondering if that's something that inspired this film at all?

Funk: Yeah. Todd Bertuzzi is my favourite hockey player of all time. So, yes definitely. I grew up in Banff, but I was a Canucks fan. The Todd Bertuzzi thing was something that I found remarkably frustrating at the time because I remember it really well too. I remember the hit on Steve Moore ahead of time when he hit Naslund, and I remember very well there was this intense bloodlust in Vancouver for retribution. And I don't mean just like among the fans. (There were) literally editorials about being like "we get pushed around too much, we need some identity. You can't let this happen, blah blah blah." And Todd was that guy. I still think Todd certainly deserves to be held responsible for what happened as an individual in that incident. But again, like that moment in terms of thinking about cultural culpability and how the idea of an act of violence extends beyond just a perpetrator of a crime and the victim and how a much broader group of people are implicated. I'm I really don't believe this idea of good and evil is something that really exists. There's like a select handful of people who we might be able to define as evil. But I think most violence that exists has a lot to do with social or cultural conditions around the people who are involved in that.

The Todd Bertuzzi thing was definitely something that informed it. I was hesitant to talk about it earlier before the film sort of got its own life and took out its own legs because I didn't want it to be "the Todd Bertuzzi story" because it informed it. But so did Derek Boogaard, Rick Rypien, a lot of these guys. And to be honest, the fundamental thing that started me on writing this film was Errol Morris's film Standard Operating Procedure. It's about the prison guards at Abu Ghraib who were busted for this despicable torture. He does this incredible thing of holding them morally responsible for what they did, but also showing that they're victims of a system that essentially asked them to do this and then throw them all under the bus to wipe its hands clean when it becomes public. So that came first. But certainly heavily informed by Todd Bertuzzi. I mean, his name is Tyson Burr. You know, there're some strong hockey knots in there.

🎤 Aggressively Canadian: An interview with the director Kevan Funk

NOTEBOOK: You’re a Canadian filmmaker making a film with hockey in it, so there’s an impression that the film is about hockey. But from watching the film there’s a sense that it’s not the game, necessarily, that interests you, that if you were working in a different setting, you’d have made the same film, but about, say, football or the military instead of hockey. Would you say that that’s an accurate assessment?

KEVAN FUNK: Yes. The inclusion of hockey has much more to do with its presence as a cultural institution, because the film is very much about institutionalized violence. I have this frustration with English[-language] Canadian cinema’s lack of boldness in terms of embracing our identity and placing ourselves in Canada. So I knew I wanted to make something that was very Canadian, and so hockey just sort of ended up being that.

Hockey movies are super interesting in that they’re associated with being very Canadian, but most of them—the majority of them—are goofy comedies that say very little about either Canada or the sport of hockey itself. So again, even though Hello Destroyer wasn’t a film about hockey per se—certainly more the setting than the subject, having that locker room culture be reflective of an actual reality was very important to me, because I don't think that it’s represented properly in most work.

📄 Seventh Row: Hello Destroyer explores the thin line between hockey menace and model

In major junior hockey, players must walk a thin line between what their coaches deem acceptable and unacceptable violence. If players avoid violence, they risk being seen as “soft” by their teammates and employers. At a home game when the team is trailing, the coach, Dale Milbury (a name referencing two notorious champions of hockey violence, Dale Hunter and Mike Milbury), demands that the team “protect the house”. Eager to prove his worth, Tyson throws an illegal check that slams an opposing player face-first into the boards, leaving his opponent with broken vertebrae and a brain hemorrhage.

Televised hockey tends to glorify cheering for violence but provides no explicit reminder of any physical consequences. Hello Destroyer breaks this convention and does not sanitise the violence. In Funk’s hands, a fight is not heroic, gladiatorial combat, but sweaty, desperate grappling, conveyed through the thudding of fists, cries of pain, and, loudest of all, the cheering crowd. Funk frames the fights themselves in claustrophobic close-ups, frequently shifting focus, and never quite providing a clear view as the punches connect. The effect is alienating, and it forces an audience familiar with hockey fights to confront their brutality. Funk implicates fans for enabling violence by foregrounding the pleasure on their faces and the players’ pain through the physical ugliness of the fight.

✏️ Review from Josh Cabrita of VIFF

Kevan Funk’s debut feature, Hello Destroyer, is not only a perceptive exegesis of Canada’s colonial history and cinematic representations of hockey, but also about a myth that all children who play the game grow up with. Funk has stated in interviews that if the film was made in another country, it might’ve been set in the military or a different institution, but the fact that Hello Destroyer -- one of very few Canadian films to grapple with the sport’s hypocrisy -- takes place in the world of junior hockey makes it hard to deny the specifics for the allegory. The buzzing sounds of the overhead lights in a vacant rink, the dress code of having a black suit and tie for every game, the anger expelled at a hockey stick during a coach’s rant: these are all textures and details I’m firmly acquainted with. Yet it’s these same environmental observations that form the basis for a critique of hockey culture's contradictions and hypocrisy: contemplation and belligerence, civility and violence, alienation and ‘community’.

But, above all else, this is a film about culpability: the role complacency, the status quo and generational exchanges play in redirecting guilt to maintain a corrupt system of power. Tyson may not be the main perpetrator against the opposing team’s player (for guilt requires free will - something the film posits is out of his hands), but he’s most certainly guilty of contributing to a culture that normalizes the root causes of such an action: how he willingly shaves his own head after his teammates buzz it in a ritualistic hazing, how he remains silent when a lawyer fills in his voice, and how he stands by as a teammate is awarded the player of the game and parades a traditional indigenous headdress around the dressing room.

🎤 VIFF Post screening Q&A

#change hockey culture #film

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venusiandivination · 4 years

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What is being hidden from you?

The question I asked the tarot today is “What is being hidden from you?” A couple of messages that came out seemed to be more on the air of how you’re doing rather than what is being hidden, but nevertheless, here is your reading!

Click the “Keep Reading” tab and scroll to the pile that you chose to see your reading.

Pile 1

I am sensing that you are out of balance, Pile 1. I feel as though you are not feeling much like you have control over your life and it is causing you to feel “out of whack.” With the Temperance and the Wheel of Fortune in reverse, there isn’t a sense of peace in your life – perhaps you just feel like you’ve been given a long stream of bad luck. This is due to external forces, so you can rest assured that it has nothing to do with you. This could mean many things, such as you are going through a lesson period that you have not quite made it through yet, and therefore feel as though everything has gone downhill because the Universe is trying to push you to learn your lesson. It could also mean that somebody is trying to keep you down. This doesn’t mean that you can’t fight it, though! I do feel this has more to do with karma to be repaid, however, because of the Six of Pentacles. This card always talks about being generous and forgiving – giving away to charity, helping those in need, and giving what you can to those who are less fortunate than you. It is possible to pull yourself out of this funk by giving back. I also pulled Capricorn, which speaks of ambition and goal-setting. Perhaps you need to sit down and figure out how you’re going to pull yourself out? Strive to be a better person, and the Universe will reward you. I also pulled Uranus, which talks of sudden transformation, much like The Tower card. Typically, these cards show up when something sudden is going to happen and break down everything you know as it is to create and rebuild something better. I believe that you, yourself, need to be the genius behind this transformation. Use Capricorns wisdom to really plan out how you’re going to do better and break down everything that isn’t serving you. Uranus is pushing you to be the brains behind the fallout. Regardless if you are not in control of what is happening in your life, this is your reminder that you ARE in control of 1. How you react to these external forces and 2. What you do to try and change your circumstances.

Pile 2

I feel like your emotions are being put on the backburner here, Pile 2. I am getting that maybe you tried put your toe in the water of love and were left out in the cold, perhaps. Ace of Cups and Five of Pentacles tell me that you were in the bliss of something emotionally driven, and suddenly it was yanked out from underneath you and gave way to an ignorance about your feelings. I pulled The Lovers as well, which is a very good sign. This can indicate a soulmate connection, however, I feel in this context it is just reminding you that there will be more love to come. It’s not over yet! If this emotionally driven situation was not relationship-related, then I feel The Lovers are going to ask you to make a decision soon. Whatever it is that you are ignoring is going to demand an answer – although The Lovers feels like a soft, sort of mushy card, it is still part of the Major Arcana. I pulled Cancer, which also indicates that you have been pushing your feelings aside regarding this matter and trying to ignore it. Cancers love being in partnership – they quite literally love love – and you are going to have to face love eventually. You aren’t going to be able to put it off and hide from it forever! I also pulled Chiron, which can be a kind of difficult healing. You heal, but in a very intense way. Chiron is all about facing yourself, realizing all of the ugly parts of you to dig deep and heal those wounds. Your Shadow Self is always appearing in every decision you make, so maybe recognize those traits that you are suppressing and work out the kinks to become the best you – then see your dreams realized.

Pile 3

I’m getting a very defeated feeling here with the Seven of Wands reversed and the Three of Swords. I feel as though you have had to grieve something recently, and it’s completely taken the wind out of you. You’ve basically given up. This could be a relationship, the loss of a loved one (whether in death or a non-romantic break-up,) or even perhaps the loss of a job you really liked, or the end to career you thought you wanted. I’m sensing that this has been extremely difficult for you, so much so that I even want to say I’m sorry. I think you have really been defeated by this situation. I’m not getting the sense that you’re unsure of where to go, more unsure that you WANT to go. But unfortunately, tarot is always here to help you, whether you like it or not. I pulled the Four of Pentacles reversed, which is all about letting go of situations and moving forward. The Four of Pentacles upright describes a greedy, selfish person. Reversed, it’s all about being open to new things and lightheartedly going where life takes us. The oracle I pulled for you are Aquarius, which is the sign of humanitarianism. “I Know” is written across the front of the card, and I feel that is where this is leading – You KNOW it’s time to stop grieving. You KNOW it’s time to let go and move on. I also pulled Mercury Retrograde, which is all about reinvention! During a Mercury Retrograde, we typically aren’t ourselves – our words get jumbled and we feel like we’re glitching in the Matrix. I feel like this is where you are now, right in the middle of an unexpected failure. But when Mercury goes direct, we don’t continue those mishaps and mistakes. We get up and fix what needs to be fixed, and we move on. Find the motivation and get up, because you’re only as good as your next move.

Pile 4

The only thing I really want to start off with looking at all of these cards as a whole, is how freaking powerful of a person you are, Pile 4. You are K-I-L-L-I-N-G it. I believe what is hidden from you IS this power. You’re not aware that you are a badass. Perhaps with the Magician reversed, you are aware but not using it wisely. That will not be the case for most of you, however, with the Empress seated right next to him. Perhaps someone in your life is manipulative and trying to keep you from seeing your own worth. However, I believe you are owning your feminine side, creating and manifesting everything around you whether you know it or not, and despite any attempt at pushing you down. I also pulled The Sun for you, meaning positivity at it’s highest in a tarot deck, and the absolute best of life to come. Perhaps you are working hard toward something right now, as I pulled Taurus, all about material possessions and what is in the bank account. Whether that be working overtime to afford a car or just have a little extra cushion in the bank account in case you decide you need something down the line. Whatever it is, you are on the right path with North Node. The North Node is all about life’s path forward, going more toward the North Node in this lifetime to get away from the South Node of your past lifetimes. North Node is THE lesson you should be learning, and I feel as though you have it down pat.

Pile 5

With the World and the Hermit reversed, I feel a lot of stagnation and loneliness, Pile 5. You are not feeling like you’re getting anywhere with whatever it is that you’re trying to accomplish. Perhaps the state of world currently has you on edge and is truly getting to your state of mind. The Five of Wands reversed lets me know that the battle is going to be short-lived. However long you have been feeling this way, you’re going to come out on top soon. A solution to your worries is coming quickly, and you’re going to get out of this rut to realize the true potential of the World at its most powerful – success and accomplishment. Perhaps you’ve already come across the solution and it is just hidden to you, as would be the namesake of this reading. For your oracle I pulled the Twelfth House, which is generally about our subconscious. The unknown part of us lives in the Twelfth house. Those mannerisms that we are unaware of and can let take over us without really being aware it’s happening. Look to your chart and see what sign lies in the Twelfth house – perhaps it is Leo, where your ego is almost nonexistent, or Libra, where we learn to balance ourselves. Perhaps this will give you the push you have been needing. I also pulled Scorpio, the dark sign of transformation that is ruled by Pluto. This sign is about death, taxes, and those darker parts of life that are necessary to see the better parts. I feel as though the transformation is coming soon, along with the Five of Wands reversed. The recommendation here is to let your desires be known, outwardly and to yourself. Perhaps you are not really sure why you’re in this rut, but a little but of inward reflection will tell you exactly where you want to be, and pushing this desire into the Universe will make it happen!

#pick a card #tarot reading #Venusian Divination #what is hidden from me #what is being hidden from you

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