#everybody who has intrusive thoughts say hell yeah. HELL YEAH!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kaicheri · 1 year

Text

lights, camera, action…?

sub camboy!beomgyu x afab reader

warnings: streamer au, mommy kink, handjob, dirty talk, edging, ruined orgasm

wc: 2.2k

a/n: repost #???

>>>>

“ughh this is sooo boring just fuck alreadyyyy”

Oh, God. Beomgyu didn't see that comment too...right?

This isn't the first one that you've seen. In fact, it was one of the thousands pestering you two to fuck each other. The sexual tension that you and Beomgyu have been trying to sweep under the rug? Couldn't be worse than now.

Well, you can’t say for sure the feeling’s mutual, but on your side of the grass, things haven’t exactly been greener since he’s moved in with you two weeks ago.

Why?

Because…never mind, it’s nothing—he’s still your roommate, don’t think. Just don't.

“Oh, you stream?" he gasped hopefully and shook your hand fast, "Holy shit, me too!”

He might've come off a bit strong, but at least he was enthusiastic enough to introduce himself raw.

“Oh, really?” You asked, “What do you stream?”

You, for example, are an influencer who regularly reacts, and indulges in video games here and there—but apparently, your new friend decided to skip past the talking stage and fly right into it, feeling more than comfortable to admit that he was part of a much…ahem-

…naughtier community.

“You—you do porn?” you tried to hide the heat in your cheeks, and the surprise in your voice. or excitement, rather. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious. or turned on.

You’d expected a gamer at the most… but a camboy? No way in hell.

It's just...he doesn’t really...look the part? Well, they’re usually always old, bald, or just plain unattractive (in which they’d opt for faceless camming). But maybe you were just exposed to the wrong ones.

“Uh, sorta?” scratching his head, Beomgyu frowned like he, too, was questioning himself—as if it was that hard to explain. “Not exactly, I…I haven’t actually fucked anyone on camera.”

…Or ever, actually, he wanted to confess. He's still a virgin dipping his feet fresh into the welcoming, warm waters of porn, and touching toes with his sexuality. Of course, he thought it’d be fun!

Plus, who doesn't like sex?

And as a young guy who claims to be “pretty on cameras and sexy on the main,” he’d decided, why not?

“Guys, it’s not what you think. We are not fucking,” you awkwardly chuckle, hands up matter-of-factly.

Well, you could…and it’s not like you haven’t ever thought about it—but still!

Point is, you still have a bit of respect for your roommate, so these intrusive thoughts gotta stay low.

…which is getting harder and harder to do, especially when there's always some extremely descriptive commenter fantasizing on the screen every five seconds.

You might as well just fuck him now in front of everybody so that they’d finally shut up about it. After all this isn’t even your audience—it’s his.

“never thought i’d see urdaddyy/n69 here lmfao”

“whats she doing with a camboy lol”

“nah they dating fs”

Sighing, you ignore the comments flooding onto the screen, continuing to interview the boy beside you—just about the system and how it works—in the event that your own streaming career does a one-eighty and flops all of a sudden.

“So...you just sit here and…touch yourself?”

“N-nah,” Beomgyu laughs, face bashful, “Well, I mean—yeah…but there’s more to it than that...”

“Like what?”

“Like, um, interacting with the fans!” He spreads his hands out towards the monitor to address said audience, “And asking how their day has been going, if they’ve eaten yet…you know, s-stuff like that.”

“Uh-huh…” you raise a brow, but he understands why you might question it.

“I-I know it seems like that’s the last thing they come on here for, but…they’re actually pretty nice,” he tries to explain softly.

“And you mentioned that you record…voice memos or something like that?”

“Oh, yeah. Sometimes, I record the audio only and post it onto Baetreon—which they also support! So I’m grateful for that,” he gives a thumbs up to the viewers and a precious smile.

“Y’know,” his voice softens, “as a pretty small streamer, I can't help but be thankful. The viewers…they mean the world to me.”

As you would’ve guessed, with his ability to be irresistible at all times, and the whole boyfriend-this-and-that image, it’s no surprise his marketing strat is so effective. The boy is smart, and knows exactly how to play the game.

That’s impressive, and you’ll admit kinda hot. Maybe you could, um…help him gain the recognition he deserves.

“Well, I have an idea. How about we give them a show?” you suddenly offer.

“What—what do you mean?”

“I’ll help you get off.”

“Wait, w-what??”

The chat goes wild.

“I said I’ll help you-“

But he has to hear that again to make sure, so he tugs on your sleeve and brings you into a whispering exchange behind his hand, hoping that the viewers can’t hear what’s next.

“Y-y/n, that’s,” he gulps, “that’s too risky!”

Well, yeah. A pretty well-rounded, medium-seized creator such as yourself would get into a load of shit because of this—but to be fair, what streamer hasn’t gotten into a scandal?

“Wouldn’t that ruin your career??” he whispers, obviously concerned.

“If it does, I’ll just quit streaming and join you instead.”

The last bit shocks him and he’s unsure of what it means.

“It means you won’t have to do solo shows anymore,” you chuckle, shrugging nonchalantly, “Plus, streaming sex does sound pretty fun. And… I get to fuck you as much as I want, right?”

Beomgyu’s jaw drops, surprised by how calm you are after so casually letting that slip.

“What?” you breathe out, almost laughing, “So…is that a no?”

“N-no, I mean—“

He takes a moment to calm himself, inhaling and then, exhaling sort of dramatically.

“W-what I meant to say was…I’m not opposed to the idea,” he admits quietly and lowers his gaze, scratching his neck. You didn’t think his blush could deepen.

“But are you sure you wanna…do this? Like, you’re being serious, serious right now?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, impatiently pulling his chair closer to yours, and Beomgyu completely freezes when he feels your arm snake around his precious, little waist.

“I mean, you’re always pleasuring yourself alone,” you whisper saccharinely, so dangerously close to his ear, “Why don’t I pleasure you this time?”

—————

“What do you think about when you touch yourself, pretty boy?”

He gulps, “I…I just read, a-ah, c-comments—“

“Pfft, the comments?” you scoff, “How pitiful.”

The poor boy hisses when you slightly tighten your grip on his cock, continuing to slowly—painfully—drag a mixture of his precum and your own sly spit all over him.

“Why read the comments when…I could be right here, next to you?” you lean in closer to his ear, “touching you just like this…”

Your hand swallows up his swollen, too-abnormally-fat-of-a-tip, and makes him whine out loud, all pathetic for everyone watching to hear.

“Aw, is it too much?” you pout and coo, clearly enjoying yourself as you put him through a different kind of torture.

“N-no-” Beomgyu shakes his head, brows knit and eyes shut tight like a stupid anime character.

“No, who?”

His whimpers and gasps are so, so fucking cute that you can’t help but grind a little on your chair, just watching him try to push words beyond his tight throat.

“N-no, mommy,” he swallows hard, “keep going, p-please…”

“Good boy.”

He deserves a little bit more, doesn’t he?

“God, you’re so…” you hiss in through your teeth as you loosen your grip to focus on increasing your speed, “so fucking good for me…”

Beomgyu’s mouth drops wide open and his back delicately arches against his gamer chair, giving you the perfect opportunity to pull his side up against your torso.

Face fucked out and parallel with the ceiling, he squeezes your thigh as to hold onto something—something close and comforting to level himself.

But at the rate of which you’re going on his pretty, little cock? There’s no way he can come down from the clouds now.

And especially when Beomgyu’s the master of edging himself, having the ability to control his pleasure levels and think about grandmas in time to prolong his pleasure is completely useless now that you have him in the palm of your sadistic hand.

“Too…too fast, mommy—“

You find him trying to hold back his moans and whimpers all silly. Oh, you’re gonna milk this boy until he’s gone.

“Aw, scared of cumming too soon?” you chuckle, “how embarrassing.”

You peek at the monitors, only to see all of them egging you on. Like yourself, the viewers want to see this poor boy become a cum-spurting mess—crying and squirting his children-carrying juice everywhere—all over your hand, keyboard, monitors, himself.

“No, you’re gonna hold it in for mommy, okay? No cumming until I say so.”

How could you put him through such…torture? It’s delicious—the way he looks, sounds, and smells like flowers. There’s nothing wrong with weeding out the bad in his cock.

But unfortunately, that would mean you’d have to pull at his precious, little petals, and tease up his leaves a bit. His lovely viewers deserve to see him suffer just as much as you do, facing his ultimate demise, the beginning of the beautiful end—an orgasm denial.

One that would leave him shaking and crying all pretty for the world to see.

The boy’s so stupid and desperate—so gullible and easily controlled—he has nothing else, but the various sensations of his cock driving him. He’ll do anything to cum at this point.

“I-I…I’ll hold it in, mommy, promise!” he blurts out, realizing that you slowing down might be worse for him, “Just…don’t s-stop, pleeease…”

He’s trying so hard to keep himself at bay with the kind of pace you’re using on him—and fuck, it’s so cute—obviously showing his efforts in the form of prominent neck veins, a deeply reddened face, and tears beginning to seep out from under tightly closed eyes.

“Baby, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” He knows you’re fucking with his mind, even more so by leaning in close to press soft kisses on his neck where the veins are out.

“Poor, poor baby…“

“M-mommy, I- nng, can’t!” he cries out, feeling a fever kick in and his cock becoming numb from it all, “Please, I can’t…h-hold it anymore—“

He grabs onto you and his armrest tight, chest heaving and breathing so dramatically. It’d be a miracle if he doesn’t end up fainting by the end of this.

“Not yet,” you breathe out, speeding your strokes up, “just a little more for mommy—“

“Oh, mommy, please- let me cum, p-please!!” he squirms frantically in his chair, throbbing heavily in your wet hand.

Without saying a word back, you quicken your pace, putting him to the test—

Fine. If he can’t take simple orders like a good boy…

Beomgyu gasps and cries out loudly, hips beginning to thrust off the chair and into helpless sobs.

It’s only a matter of time before he finds out he’s fucking nothing but air.

Because bad boys don’t get rewards.

“Mommy, n-no!”

It’s too late.

You had already loosened your fingers around his crying cock, and now, the poor thing is pathetically swinging around in the air along with his needy hips, dripping of the tinniest essences that have failed to be milked completely.

He could’ve used his own hands to finish it off, but both were quickly held back by yours.

You have yet to release his dainty wrists from your tight hold, letting him whine in absolute tears. It wasn’t easy, but you were able to pull his shaking body back down into his chair again before he could fuck something random—anything in sight—but considering his position, he desperately tried to rub his thighs against his cock.

But there wasn't any use. Now, he’s left with tears staining his cheeks and a pitiful gaze down at his own swollen cock. Nothing but a few droplets on his trembling thighs.

It’s obvious he’d never had a ruined orgasm in his life, even when his audience has paid thousands in request. Poor Beomgyu just needed a push. So admittedly, the satisfaction was at least shared among you and his loyal fans.

“that was so fucking hot holy shit”

“couldn’t even last five mins”

“can u be my mommy too”

The reactions are all too good to your ego. And you’re glad to see that for the most part, everyone seems to have enjoyed it. You should definitely do this more.

Was he that much of a brat that the donations popping up screen have now doubled—no, tripled in size?!

There’s one comment that really catches your eye, though:

“i’ve seen every one of his streams and holy fuck…glad u put him in his place lmfao”

And here, you thought he was a good boy. Tsk, tsk.

Beomgyu’s not exactly…happy about the situation, but he knows this was a very deserved humiliation. And on the bright side, from what you've seen from his streams (secretly), he loves being humiliated, regardless.

“I should join your streams more often,” you tease, face pulling a grin that could devour him. “Mommy’s gonna play with your pretty, little cock for a very long time..."

Just then, the door swings open and presents yet another tall, young male you’ve never seen before, frozen in place with Starbucks cup in his hand and his mouth covered with the other.

"O-oh, I’m sorry," You turn to the frightened boy next to you, "Uh, Gyu, who is this-"

“Yeon-yeonjunnie hyung?”

#txt fics #txt smut #txt scenarios #choi beomgyu smut #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fanfic #txt fanfic #txt imagines

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strangestcase · 1 year

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Jekyll and Hyde isn’t a case of intrusive thoughts

Guys. Guys. I know your hobby is to misconstrue what intrusive thoughts are, but Hyde doesn’t represent intrusive thoughts. At all.

CW: mentions of physical and sexual violence under the cut

Intrusive thoughts are the voice in your head that says: listen to what I have to say. Rape your mother. Kill your best friend. Harass that stranger. Molest your child. Strangle your partner. Grab that knife and cut your genitals with it.

And you hurt. Those are such horrible things. You could never, ever do that, but you’re disgusted that the thought would cross your brain.

Disgusted, aren’t you? You are such a horrible person for listening to me. You are disgusting. You don’t want to hurt others or yourself. That’s terrible. But you can’t help it- your brain is spitting the worst things it can think of at yourself, with the purpose of being miserable. Nothing in this world could ever make you do the things that voice tells you to- even if the voice sounds convincing, even if you think, even for a moment, you’d enjoy it, and even if you let it linger and fantasize before snapping back to reality and finally think, with a sinking feeling, God, I’m such a fucking piece of shit.

You don’t want to be that!

But of course, there are other voices in your head. Everybody has them. One of them is called Temptation, and oh god, Intrusive Thoughts does a damn good job pretending to be them. Temptation says: hey, wouldn’t it be great if you could eat whatever you wanted? Do you want to eat sweets right now even if you know you shouldn’t? And you do. You agree. But you can’t, sadly. There are rules. But, it says, wouldn’t it be great if you could insult your boss? Go and insult your boss! And yeah, you want to do that, but of course you can’t do that. Hey, go and do something dumb and reckless! You think that “something” is fun, but it’s dangerous. Hmmm, I’ll sleep on it. Maybe another day, maybe never. Don’t you want to be a little shit sometimes? Well, yes. But I have a job! I have friends and family that will say that’s wrong! And I can’t do wrong things, can’t I?

The instant you can, you will think about it. And that voice will pipe up and you will think about it again. This time I’m alone in the kitchen and I have poor impulse control- I might as well eat sweets. And my boss isn’t on Tumblr, so I will make a post calling him a big crock of shit there, where he can’t see me! See? Doesn’t it feel great to do what you want? Yes, yes, you agree. It’s so sad you can’t do that all the time, though.

Hyde is not that first voice. He’s the second. Jekyll would LOVE to be a violent piece of shit all the time. Even if he doesn’t realize. Maybe you, too, would like that. That doesn’t matter- he does. If Jekyll didn’t have to care about his reputation, or other people, he sure as hell wouldn’t blink if he trampled a girl. He doesn’t care- under the effects of the drug, he just can’t care. And it’s enjoyable, honestly.

Hyde can’t be intrusive thoughts because, here is the key: you can’t indulge in intrusive in intrusive thoughts. You can’t indulge in intrusive thoughts the same way you can’t indulge in a nice relaxing bath of poison-coated red hot razor blades and live scorpions. You don’t enjoy them. You don’t let them in. They are someone else, someone that wants you to suffer, a trick of your anxious brain that is constantly firing off the alarms but needs to have a good excuse first.

Rant the fuck over.

Signed: someone who has violent and sexual intrusive thoughts and doesn’t appreciate it when people go “wow! this fictional monster is you if your anxiety disorder was right!”

#jekyll and hyde #the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde #dr jekyll and mr hyde #jekyll and hyde weekly

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fierceawakening · 1 year

Note

Some of this may be semantics and how an individual frames it, but yeah, I think you may not be getting how dealing with OCD (especially pure O) works for a lot of folks. It was extremely important for me to recognize that just because my mind barfs up something horrible (i.e. intrusive thoughts or a "bad thought") doesn't mean I actually believe that thing, and it's actively harmful for me to argue against it rather than just let it pass through and away. (cont'd)

That’s fair. I know my own illness is similar enough that I relate to some of what people say, but some of it baffles me, and I don’t know if it’s me seeing things differently or if it’s just that my treatment modality is different enough that I’m guessing what people mean when they’re using jargon and slightly off.

For whatever it may be worth, I definitely think it’s better to just let a thought pass. I just mean that telling myself the thought isn’t bad is kind of like dwelling on it for me. Where accepting that I’m going to think a lot of weird shit randomly before I’m dead isn’t. It’s more like “okay, let’s see if that one passes. If not, then I can start to worry whether my values are changing.”

Because… I get the sense the right wing has or is trying to hijack this language, but morals to me are grounded in values. We choose certain actions and refrain from certain others because of what we value, and because we generally want to be people who instantiate out values well. The mere fact that a random thought inimical to them has cropped up somehow isn’t proof that we’re rethinking the entire structure.

Could it MAYBE POSSIBLY indicate we’re focusing on something about our values that we are rethinking? I mean, maybe, but if it doesn’t stick around a lot, it’s probably just weirdness.

I dunno. One of the things that has helped me the most was… one day I was in an aquarium watching a fish, and it was one of those blowfish kinda guys that get bigger, and I had the thought “I could grab it in my hand and I could crush it, and it would die.”

And I panicked because did this mean I wanted to kill it? What the hell? And I was so alarmed about this I told my dad, who just sort of laughed and said “I think everybody wonders what it’s like to kill something every once in a while. Doesn’t mean you want to do it.”

And I just remember how comforted I felt by that. If everyone has random thoughts like that sometimes, the key is what you do or don’t do with them.

Was it a bad thought, though? I… can see why people would say “there are no bad thoughts” I THINK, but to me… yeah, it was a bad thought. Okay. Sure. Now what does that mean?

Absolutely nothing, if everyone wonders about killing things once in a while and the vast majority of us don’t kill anything.

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tsuki-sennin · 11 months

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Butterfly! At long last! It's been 3000 years! 18 episodes!

Toei, fellas, it's been 9 episodes since Cure Wing. I'm not sure how big of a gap that is between main team members relative to most other seasons, but jeez.

For me, of course, it's been longer, but that's more because I had a long week.

Spoilers, I guess...

-Starting off with a battle, I see~!

-Dodging is an important part of any character action title!

-Wing has earned himself a fan.

-Oh, he even gets to do the finisher! Movin' on up in the world.

-Fishing Rod.

-I never would've guessed, tbh.

-We did it!

-As much disdain I show Battamonda, he has some funny facial expressions.

-Yeah sure buddy, whatever helps you sleep at night.

-Stop calling her an Outsider, I do NOT need intrusive thoughts about what a Pretty Cure Outsiders might look like.

-Ageha's gone do it.

-Pu-Li-Ru-La, Pu-Li-Ru-La!

-I think you're a bit formal for these younguns.

-Ah yes, PreCures. Everybody knows them!

-I just remembered, years ago I saw a poll about what Japanese elementary schoolers wanted to be when they grew up and a surprising number of the kids who answered "Pretty Cure" were young lads.

-Oh, speakin' of which-

-Don't put it off any longer Ageha.

-Fanmail~!

-Takeru!? Takeru Tenkuuji!?

-...no wonder his fave is the orange hero.

-Tsubasa is the happiest borb in the universe right now.

-Oh okay, she's

-Hangin' around officially now.

-I will say this, Ageha sure as hell seems to be in her element.

-Word of advice to all you aspiring hero types out there, don't hang around a nursery uninvited.

-...Sora what kind of tag do you play up in the clouds? Do you have like organized teams that play against Lufenia, Zenithia, and Zeal?

-Battamonda Time

-Okay, you have officially crossed the line bucko.

-That is one squishy elephant.

-The Princess has vanished.

-Three layer human shield!

-Wrapped in darkness.

-No projectiles for anybody, Prism.

-Oh, here she comes.

-...that close up was incredibly necessary, thank you.

-Damn she's fast

-She's not the Outsiders.

-OH

-OKAY, SHE JUST

-JUST LIKE THAT!

-"I'm going to let my life burn bright, Takeru-kun! ...no, wait, that's the finisher phrase..."

-Here it comes!

-Tone Connect!

-Hirogaru Change! Butterfly!

-Ohhhhhh

-This is gorgeous

-Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous

-Every bit worth the wait.

-Absolute babe.

-Wanderfuru~!

-Cute Butterfly!

-What do you do?

-Shields!

-Oh, you are a nimble broad, aren't you?

-OKAY THAT IS JUST STRAIGHT UP A RIDER KICK

-You've done us proud, Butterfly.

-The sheer rage directed towards Battamonda.

-Ageha jumpscare.

-Moving in permanently-ish~!

-Hello Cure Butterfly! You fucking exist now~!

-I'm assuming next episode's gonna be about her and Wing properly teaming up?

-Ah, cooking~!

-Awww, he's worried about her, that's nice of him.

-Oh, that's a new toy.

-...I don't have much to say about it, I haven't the foggiest idea what it does, but hey! It looks fun~!

#Hop! Step! Jump! Hero Gals Dream of the Everlasting Sky!#hirogaru sky pretty cure #hirogaru sky spoilers #hirogaru sky precure #pretty cure #precure

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sometimes-love-is-enough · 4 years

Note

re: your last ask about the time travel shenanigans—holy fuck yes please more of this. like, not only is it funny as hell, which i appreciate, but it's also a. more c!thomas and b. points to just how interestingly both the plot and characters of this series have grown over the years and i am ALL for it

"Janus!" is the first thing Thomas exclaims when he sees the Side Formerly Known Exclusively As Deceit rise up where Logan would usually stand. Which just might be a mistake, if Janus’s expression is anything to go by.

Okay, in Thomas's defence -

This is a really, really weird day, even by his standards. Because, like, Logan's currently standing in front of the stairs, and that's not where Logan's supposed to be, and his shirt and tie are all wrong. And had had been grinning. Openly. He had been openly grinning when Thomas had first woken up and looked in his wardrobe and realized that his favorite t-shirt apparently doesn't exist anymore and all his clothes are a half-size smaller than he's used to but also they still fit and - okay, no, back to Logan. He'd gone downstairs and tripped over a chair that wasn't supposed to be there and called out Logic. And he'd been about to ask him what's going on and why everything feels so off and also why Logan's standing in Virgil's usual spot instead of over to the right of the stairs. But then he'd noticed all the aforementioned Very Weird Clothing Things. And he'd stopped and said, "Uh, Logan?" and Logan's grin had dropped and he'd stared at Thomas for a full ten seconds then whispered, "what the fuck," with great emotion.

And then Patton had shown up with a ridiculous amount of pun-riddled cheerfulness that Thomas had been able to clock as sixty-percent fake within about half a second. And his clothes had been all wrong, too, and after a lot of confused, borderline-incomprehensible yelling at each other, Roman had showed up and added to the chaos.

"I am scared and confused and on the verge of completely losing it!" Thomas had declared at some point, which had been the cue for an ominous music sting somewhere to Thomas's right that made everybody jolt in terrified unison.

"Did somebody say scared and confused and on the verge of completely losing it?"

"Virgil, thank god!" Thomas had practically yelled, and just about thrown himself across the room to get to him - before pausing midway and allowing his brain to process... wrong hoodie. Wrong amount of eyeshadow. "Wait. No, hang on, is this - "

"FUCKING WHO," Virgil shrieked, leaping backwards half a flight of stairs, which had led to another round of confused yelling, with Thomas trying to assure them all that he's fine he hasn't had some sort of strange head injury or whatever, he's just really happy to see Virgil and no of course that's not weird, what do you mean who's Virgil, that's Virgil right over there, Roman please put down that sword things are already out of hand -

And at some point Thomas had got it into his head that the most reasonable course of events was to summon the one person who always seems to know everything that everybody else doesn't, which brings everything up to speed, more or less. Roman had gone, "Thomas, what are you doing," and Thomas, feeling slightly manic at this point, had said, "I'm trying to summon a demon, obviously," because the best way to get hold of a certain someone probably is blatant lying, and boom, instant Janus.

"Jeee-sus Christ on a cookie-shaped canoe, what is he doing here?!"

"Janus!"

So, Janus pops up, he looks literally the same as he always has (except maybe with shorter hair? Wait, they all have shorter hair, including Thomas, wait a second -) with his half-snake-face and his hat and gloves that cosy-looking capelet of his. And although his expression reflects faint bewilderment and that very particular 'wait, what' emotion that results in being pulled abruptly away from something you were busy with, he looks so normal that Thomas thinks for a moment he might be the only sane person left.

But then Janus makes a series of start-and-stop noises of incomprehension, and gestures wildly towards Virgil, who's crouched midway up on the stairs behind Logan, looking like a cornered wild animal, and snaps, "Why for the love of everything that's holy would you tell him my name?"

"You think this is me?" Virgil retorts, hands going up to grab desperately at the bars lining the side of the staircase. "I don't understand anything that's going on! He somehow knows my name! He's - he's being nice to me!"

It suddenly occurs to Thomas that this might just possibly be a time travel sort of thing. It would explain the clothes shift. And the altered layout of his house. And the fact that when he'd checked his phone this morning it had told him it was 2016, and also it hadn't been his phone, it had been the one he'd broken a few years ago in a tragic piano-moving-related accident.

...Okay, yeah, this is absolutely a time travel thing.

"Is somebody going to explain why Thomas ruined all of our heartfelt name reveal moments in one fell swoop?" Roman demands. "I thought we agreed we were going to do them gradually and draw them out as long as possible for dramatic effect!"

"I agreed to none of that," Virgil snaps from his position halfway up the stairs.

"Yes," says Logan, "yes, I think we all would like to know what's going on. Thomas? What's going on?"

"Uh - " Thomas, who has just come to a rather startling realization about time travel and also about how shitty his Sides' taste in costumes were pre-wardrobe change, doesn't really have a prepared answer for this. "I have... I am - I just - "

Thomas struggles for words. Really struggles. And everyone's just standing there, watching him with expressions that range from terror to confusion to suspicion, and they all look so weirdly young in a way that's hard to pin down. It's the clothes. It's probably the clothes, or maybe it's the way they hold themselves. Roman, carelessly confident, without a doubt in the world. Patton, still wearing a fixed dad-grin, politely baffled and looking back and forth. Logan, who hasn't been systematically beaten down and pushed back over the course of many, many years. Virgil, who's basically just a ball of grey-and-black anger and acerbic anger at this point. Janus, who's... Janus. Who's looking at him in a way that Janus has never looked at him before.

And Remus is probably lurking somewhere in the back of his mind, too, doing whatever Remus does, and - would Remus be any different now, four years prior? Thomas hadn't had any significant problems with intrusive thoughts, not back then... or, well, back now. Maybe he's calmer, maybe Thomas could actually talk with him. Try to work something out, try to understand.

But wait, he's still got to give the Sides right here and right now an answer.

Hm.

...Thomas has been through a lot in the past four years. Not, like, fantasy protagonist a lot, but more like a extended psychological journey of self-discovery and mental health crises. Now, he wouldn't trade any of this for the world, because he's learned a hell of a lot about himself in the process - but also? The Sides have put him through a lot of horrifying realization-type things.

Which is why he absolutely one hundred percent deserves to do what he's about to do next.

"I," says Thomas, with an extraordinary amount of confidence and self-assuredness, "am psychic."

And the dead silence holds. Now even Patton is staring at him in disbelief. Janus has graduated into outright horror, his face twisted up into a oh god no I am somehow responsible for letting him delude himself this far expression.

"Thomas!" Roman gasps, almost instantly lighting up with genuine enthusiasm. "Oh, Thomas, I'm so proud, we've been working on this for years. Tell me, does this extend to telekinesis, or just somehow knowing all our names and nothing else?"

"What?" Janus says. "What - no. No, you can't seriously be going along with this - what? That... what? That doesn't even make any sense?" He turns wildly from left to right, and - okay, it's very enjoyable to see him out of his depth, to be perfectly honest. Thomas likes Janus a lot, knows he has his best interests at heart, but the whole courtroom thing had been a major dick move. This is satisfying. "Are any of you getting this? Does anyone here understand what's going on?"

"I'm psychic," Thomas repeats doggedly. "I acquired magical psychic powers and now I know all of your names and tragic backstories. Surprise! I unlocked my full potential and the ninety-percent of my brain power that I wasn't using."

"That's - that's a widely-perpetuated and wildly incorrect myth," Logan says weakly.

"Nope. Turns out it's true, and I was only using ten percent of it, and now that I've gone full big-brain, I know that Patton's repressing all his bad feelings because he doesn't want to bother anyone with them, Virgil acts all scary and menacing because he thinks it's the only way that I'll ever listen to him, and Janus is secretly a huge dork with a heart of gold - uh, yellow, I guess."

"How dare you," Janus breathes, looking horrified.

"Wha - " Patton suddenly looks very pale indeed.

"Also, Roman, you're my hero; Logan, please never stop smiling like that ever again, it's literally my favorite thing in the world and if you ever stop being enthusiastic about teaching me things I will cry - and Virgil, I love you."

Virgil lets out a choked little noise like he's just been punched directly in the stomach.

"I love all of you," Thomas adds, an afterthought. "I never say that enough. Janus, that goes for you as well. You're right, I need to take care of myself more."

"I'm - " Janus is still looking around at everyone in complete disbelief, but now his gaze fixes onto Thomas, his eyes wide. "I'm what?"

Thomas is now on a roll. An extremely cathartic sort of roll. "And Remus -"

Everybody immediately panics. Virgil and Logan's hands both immediately leap up to clasp over their mouths, which seems to be a reflexive reaction on Janus's behalf. Patton lets out a deranged-sounding high pitched giggle that edges into genuine hysteria.

"Brother? What brother? I don't know what a brother is!" Roman says loudly. "I've never had a brother in my life! Thomas, your glorious psychic powers are malfunctioning. Have you tried turning them off and turning them on again?"

" - I'm not going to lie and say I love him, but -" Thomas stops abruptly, and staggers backwards to catch himself on the couch as a thought strikes him out of literally nowhere. "Son of a bitch -"

"Does being psychic make you swear a lot?" Patton asks weakly. "Because, uh. Not sure I like this side of you, kiddo - "

"Logan," says Thomas. "Logan, what's the date today? This is so, so important, what's the date."

"It's... October," Logan says, very slowly. "October twentieth. 2016?"

"Holy shit," Thomas whispers, and then says it louder, "holy shit. Okay, listen. I was going to sort out all of our collective psychological issues in one impressive emotional speedrun, but I've realized we have something much more important to do." He pauses, and takes in a very deep, shuddering breath. "Guys. We can save Vine. Excuse me. I've just realized I’ve got to make a lot of calls."

#storytime #timeswap au #asks #please note that everything in my storytime tag is (by definition) rushed and unedited content and this is no exception #that being said. enjoy.#character!thomas #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #sad to announce that remus is once again not here :(#Anonymous

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emwritesfootball · 3 years

Text

Her Majesty's Men 7 | Mason Mount

Word Count: 1,415

Warnings: declan being an ass, more stripping, more mason/reader sexual tension xx

- - -

Her Majesty’s Men take off after that.

Victoria makes one Instagram post about her night spent at the club, and suddenly, everyone is showing up. Women come from all over England just to see them perform. Suddenly, money is coming from all directions. Stonesy is able to hire a PR team and an agency that starts talking about the tour.

It all gets so big so fast.

Money Mase and Dangerous Deccers start making house calls to bring in extra press. It’s exhausting but the money can sometimes be even better than a weeknight at the club, and now they need the money because Stonesy thought they should only do Thursday-through-Sunday shows.

They knock on the door of the mansion in front of them, the music blaring even behind the closed door. The two of them are dressed up like the City of London Police, looking intimidating when a woman answers. “Hello, Officers. Can I help you?”

“D’You live here, Ma’am?”

“Well, uh, no, but I-”

“That’s fine,” Mason says, pushing past her and stepping inside. “We’ve been getting complaints of noise and underage drinking here. Is everyone over age?”

The room is full of women well over-eighteen and they all nod. “Well, we’re gonna have to see some ID all the same,” Mason continues, pointing in the direction of the room filled with women. “Can you accompany me in here, please. When’s your birthday, Ma’am?”

“Uh, M-May,” she stutters, so flustered by this intrusion she forgets her own birthday.

“You are definitely not eighteen. I’m gonna need you to place your hands on the wall; spread your legs. Everybody sit down - we’re gonna be here a while. Now, do you have anything sharp on you that I could stick myself with?”

“N-no, Sir.”

“Good. Because I do.” That was the cue for Mason to rip off the tear-away pants, leaving him in briefs with the toolbelt still around his waist. Declan turned up the music as the women started to cheer. He spotted Victoria in the crowd, giving her a wink and a nod before he turned back to her friend and finished up the lapdance.

The two men worked the room, money flying everywhere as they thrust their hips and flexed their muscles. Victoria was the last woman left, spreading her legs eagerly as Declan sauntered over to her. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he started the lapdance, rutting against his barely-covered cock-

“What the HELL is going on?!” Came David Beckham’s voice.

The music shut off, everyone suddenly freezing where they stood. Time stopped.

“David, I-”

“No! I don’t wanna hear it!” David was furious, the centre of his rage focused solely on Victoria and Declan. “You told me it was one time, Victoria! You told me I’d never have to see this… this boy again, yet here he is in MY HOUSE!” David stormed towards Declan, shoving him. “Get the fuck off my wife!”

“Whoa whoa whoa, what’s going on?” Mason cut in, throwing himself between Declan and the football legend. “We just got a call to come to this house party, and-”

“What you ‘got’ was a call from my wife to get her little boy-toy over here so she can have an excuse to fuck him in our bed. I want him out of my house!” David roared, advancing on Mason now.

“O-Okay,” Mason said, holding his hands up in surrender. “We’re leaving right now. Dec? C’mon.”

“No.” Declan’s face was hard, defiant as he stepped towards David. “Victoria told me you were okay with this. I don’t know what she told you, but that’s what she told me.” Declan got in David’s face. “I’ll leave, but you haven’t seen the last of me.”

Declan let Mason drag him out by the arm, the adrenaline racing through both of them.

“What the hell was that, Dec?!” Mason shouted as the two of them drove back to Declan’s place. “Victoria Beckham?! Really?! How long has this been going on?!”

“Since the fundraiser. She seduced me.”

“And you let it happen? Fuck, Dec, I thought you knew better than that!”

“I thought I did, too, mate, but she… god, she really knows her way around a man’s cock. Stonesy was right: this investment was a great idea.”

“No, Dec! No, it wasn’t! God, don’t you see what Stonesy has turned you into?”

“Yes, I have, Mase! He’s made me a goddamn star! I thought I’d never get to hear crowds of people chanting and screaming my name again, but here we are! They. Love. Me. Me, Mase! I didn’t think that was gonna be possible again after I lost football, but John’s done it.”

“John?! Since when do we call him anything but Stonesy?! Fuck, Dec. You might know who you are now, but I sure as hell don’t.”

The rest of the drive was spent in tense silence, both men fuming at the other. Mason pulled into the drive, cutting the engine. He banged on the door of your place, breathing a sigh of relief when you answered. “I’ve got your brother.”

“What happened?” Concern instantly makes its way onto your face. You want to reach out and comfort Mason, but you don’t. The two of you have barely interacted since your almost-kiss, but something about his demeanor tells you that he needs you.

“I don’t know the full story, but we’ve just come from the Beckhams’ and-”

“Wait. As in ‘David and Victoria Beckham’ the Beckhams’?”

“Uh, yeah. And, apparently, your brother has been shagging Victoria for the last few I-don’t-know-how-many months.”

“He’s what?!”

“Yeah.” Mason gave you a wide-eyed look. “Things got a bit heated tonight. I tried to talk to him on the drive, but he’s so far gone on Stonesy’s little fucked-up plan to take us out of London that I don’t-”

“Wow. It’s really gonna be like that, eh?” Declan glared at Mason and then turned his attention to you. “Money Mase has you so wrapped around his finger, doesn’t he? Is this all part of your plan to turn everyone against me? God, mate, my own sister?! You think me screwing Vic is bad but you’re shagging my sister?! That’s low, even for you.”

“Mason’s not shagging me, Dec! And really? Victoria Beckham?! Look at yourself! I thought this was going to be a bridge from football onto your next thing. I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Expecting what? Me to be a star?! Well, wake the fuck up, bitch! I’m a star! Dangerous Deccers is a goddamn star! The women scream for me, they cheer for me! And Victoria Beckham is shagging me over her goddamn husband! So, who’s the real winner here, ‘cause it certainly doesn’t seem like it’s either of you two.” Declan growled, pushing past you and into the house.

“Wow!” You whispered, sharing a look with Mason.

“Yeah…” Mason trailed off, letting out a sigh as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry he called you a bitch.”

“It’s not your fault, but thanks. I doubt he’ll apologize in the morning, anyway. When he gets like this, he-” you paused, shaking your head. “Well, anyway. Thanks.” Without thinking, you hugged him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Thanks for bringing him here and just for… everything, really.”

“My pleasure,” he replied, running a soothing hand up your back. “I was just looking out for Dec. I didn’t expect it to turn out like this.”

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay, Mase. Really.” You looked up at him, taking his face in your hands. Your eyes searched his face before you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Good night.”

“Can we go out sometime? A proper date. I wanna take you out.”

“Mason,” you sighed, releasing him as you stepped back. “You know we can’t. I’m me and you’re-”

“A stripper? You can say it, ya know. It’s not a bad thing. I told you once before, it’s how I pay the bills; it’s not who I am.”

“I know. But you’re also Dec’s best friend.”

“Forget about all that. If I was just some random guy you met and you didn’t know who I was and I wasn’t your brother’s best friend, would you go out with me?”

You bit down on your bottom lip. “Yes. I would.”

Mason smiled wide and your stomach dipped. “Give me a month, and just promise me that when I show up here again, you’ll say yes to a date?”

<< >>

#her majesty's men series #declan rice imagines #mason mount imagines

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imgoingtocrash · 3 years

Text

my teen angst bullshit has a body count

by @imgoingtocrash for @hailxhydra

Rating: T

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Avengers Team

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Ned Leeds, Flash Thompson, Jim Morita, Hydra Agents

Summary:

“Correcting people all the time, sucking up attention with the whole goody two-shoes act. I’m saying you’re a teacher’s pet, loser. And one day, everyone’s going to see it for the act that it is, and when they do—”

Peter’s hearing blanks out.

Pet.

It echoes.

Two years ago, Peter Parker escaped Hydra's control and was taken in by the Avengers. Traumatized from the experience but healing, Peter's starting to get a hang of this whole normal teenager thing. However, when Flash brings up a happily forgotten trigger from his past, Tony comes to give comfort and remind Peter that he's worth more to his loved ones than Hydra could have ever dreamed of.

Read on AO3

My fic for @friendly-neighborhood-exchange! Hopefully you enjoy it @hailxhydra!!!

Full fic under the cut as requested by the exchange:

“—But I’m asking if it’s a good movie.”

“I’m telling you, it was either picking Selena for the third time or Rio, which is a stupid animated movie about birds.” Ned shakes his head dramatically. “Everybody else will fall asleep, and if everybody falls asleep, then Misses Rodriguez will give us a pop quiz instead of letting us have a movie day.”

“But I like animated movies. We like them. We watched A Bug’s Life like last week!”

“Because you hadn’t seen it before! Your film under-education is criminal, and if I don’t help you fix it, who will?!”

Ned has a point. Being kidnapped and raised by Hydra after the age of six really limits a person’s entertainment consumption, as he’s learned more than ever now that he’s surrounded by other teenagers who grew up with movies and tv shows to watch at their fingertips.

“I mean, Steve does have a list…” Peter points out weakly.

Steve keeps it in his little notebook along with other things he doesn’t understand the references to yet. He tried to encourage Peter to start something like that in the beginning, but Peter’s never really considered himself a list person. He just sort of soaks up the world now, like a curious sponge. Sometimes it means he has to Google things he doesn’t really understand the meaning of, but it also means a lot of movie nights with both the other Avengers and Ned, which is actually sort of a bonus.

Ned stops them in the hall. “Yeah, but are they cool movies or are they movies for old people and war veterans who haven’t been alive for the last 100 years?”

“...You know that I don’t really know the difference.”

Ned gives a sad shake of his head. “You’re lucky you liked Star Wars, bro. Otherwise we’d be in a very different place right now, like, friendship-wise.”

“You still didn’t answer the question.”

Peter got to pick the movie for their classes’ Cinco de Mayo party. Peter’s not sure what either movie has to do with the Mexican Army’s historical defeat of the French, but he only picked Selena because Ned suggested it. Maybe he should be regretting that choice, if the other option was harmless little Spanish birds.

“You know, Parker, I have a question,” comes a very annoyingly musical voice from behind them.

Peter just barely resists to roll his eyes. Every time with this kid. Not that Peter is any less of a kid than Flash Thompson, technically, but he definitely feels more mature.

Ned, also more mature than some of their other classmates, completely ignores Flash.

“You’ll be humming the disco medleys for weeks, I promise.”

“Wait, wait, disco? I thought you said this was supposed to take place in the 80s and 90s?”

“Music endures, dude.”

“Hey, el idiots, I’m talking to you!” Flash interrupts again.

“That’s not even how you—” Peter starts to correct, only to realize he’s stepped directly in it when Ned groans.

Flash laughs obnoxiously to himself. “Just can’t help yourself, can you, Penis?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter grumbles. It doesn’t really matter what he says now. Flash has the attention that he wanted, which means he won’t bug off until the bell rings and until he has the last laugh. And that always happens, because he’s really the only one entertained by all of the poking and prodding at Peter.

Peter breathes in, steeling himself. He’s survived worse. So much worse. Bullies with electric prongs and steel cages and control over every other aspect of his life. This is just high school. Normal kids survive it all the time, even when there are bullies and bad test grades and cliquey subcultures. This is just one privileged asshole who thinks Peter’s an easy target.

In some way, Peter’s actually proud of that. No one has ever seen him as un-intimidating before. Even his Hydra captors knew that if they lost control of him as an asset, he could easily turn on them.

(Part of him always asks why he never did. If he wasn’t evil, if he wasn’t like them, then why didn’t he just fight back? But Sam says that’s just his mind trying to deal with trauma, and Peter is trying really, really hard to get better at ignoring those kinds of intrusive thoughts.)

Speaking of talking to himself, Flash snaps his fingers in Peter’s face to get his attention back.

“You’d think for such a genius, you’d be a lot quicker on the uptake.” Flash shakes his head like he’s disappointed.

“Please just get to the point already,” Ned begs, throwing his head back.

Peter’s hearing blanks out.

Pet.

It echoes.

C’mere, Pet.

Stay down, Pet!

He was property, he was an animal, he was a weapon, their weapon, he was a mutant and he deserved it, needed it, he was the Spider, a mongrel, nothing, he was nothing and no one and Hydra was the only home a no-good runt like the Spider would ever have and he should be grateful—Kneel, Pet, be a good boy and kneel for your masters—but he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t—

Foolish Pet, you wouldn’t survive out there.

You need us, Pet. You’ll always need us.

“Peter?”

He returns to the moment with one heaving breath, only to realize he can’t take in another.

His collar is too tight, they always put it on too tight and if he complains they hit him and if they hit him he bleeds and it gets on his clothes and he won’t get any more until his bath and he hates bath time because they water is cold and stings his skin and the soap is so harsh it burns his nostrils and they’re watching him he knows they’re watching because they never leave him alone because if they did he would try to escape, he would—

“Peter, what’s wrong, are you—?”

He did. He escaped and ran away but now they have him again and he can’t live like this, not when he knows about best friends and pizza and friendly ribbing and how warm he feels when Tony pulls Peter close on the couch and presses a kiss to his head and tells Peter that he’s proud. He can’t be here anymore, he has to go, he has to run.

“Peter, wait!”

Tony is, to say the least, nervous when he gets a call from Midtown Tech’s front office.

He trusts Peter by now. The kid has come a long, long way since he snuck onto the Avengers helicarrier during the chaos of a Hydra raid. Skinny as a rail, scared, brainwashed...abused.

The Spider.

Peter didn’t like being with Hydra since they were the ones that made him enhanced, but he sure as hell didn’t want to be locked in an enclosed space with a bunch of Avengers at the time either.

As was evident by the fight he put up until Steve knocked him out. Steve still feels bad about cold-clocking a kid when Peter jokingly brings it up now, but Tony’s never shamed Steve for the decision. It was that or some kind of drug injection with the way Peter fought back tooth and nail, confused and defensive. Practically feral, from the well-fitting clothing to his lack of speech.

It was all for the better, though, once they got him back to the compound.

Peter was a talkative kid once he let himself be. Funny, too. Almost normal, if you forgot the mutant spider genetics and years of torture from a bunch of descendant assholes that seemed to hate and resent the very thing they created.

That’s why Tony agreed to let Peter start school. Real, normal, human school just like every other teenager in America attended until they finished all twelve years of it.

Because he needed to be normal, sometimes. He needed movie nights, [other things], and most importantly, friends that were his own age rather than a bunch of adult superheroes that often acted like children.

But also because Peter wanted to go, and Tony had a really, really hard time denying anything that the kid wanted when he could so easily provide.

Peter had such a hard time wanting anything, in the beginning. What did Peter want to wear instead of the plain, grey, dirty sweatpants from Hydra? What did Peter want to eat now that he could have an adequate amount of calories for his enhanced, still growing body? What did he want to watch? Listen to?

All of these choices were suddenly available to Peter, but shaking years of being denied any kind of want, any kind of choice took a toll on him that took a lot of work to get through.

Peter had put in the work. Unsurprisingly well. He was smart—tactically from years of being trained for missions, academically from whatever education Hydra must have thrust upon him. Not so much socially, but they were doing better as Peter spent more time around people that actually cared about him and lobbed insults around to tease rather than to actually cause emotional harm.

But was that enough...training, of sorts, to be around a bunch of teenagers? Sure, Peter was technically also a teenager, but they’d found him at 14. Tony still looked at Peter and saw the wide-eyed little kid sitting in the corner of a containment cell, flinching every time Tony moved.

Two years later and a lot of growth physically and emotionally, but was it enough?

Tony was hesitant about it, wish-washing the entire summer with maybes and I’ll think about its until the deadline arrived and Tony had to actually make the call.

Peter had pleaded, citing an extensive, cheesy list of films that made him want the high school experience himself for some reason. He very genuinely enjoyed shopping for school supplies. He passed Midtown’s entrance exam with results that faked years progressing in homeschooling that Tony knew would have been true, if Peter had gotten the chance to grow up like he was supposed to.

So, Tony eventually said yes, knowing that one day this call might come and Tony would have to be prepared for whatever was on the other end of the line.

An “incident” of some kind. Whatever that meant. The secretary was entirely unclear, only insistent that Peter’s family should get down to the premises immediately to handle things.

That was Tony.

Part of Tony couldn’t fathom why Peter chose him out of everyone on the team to latch onto. Another part wasn’t exactly shocked. Trauma recognized trauma, after all, even if the context was entirely different.

Tony knew what it was like to be belittled. To be seen as something you weren’t. To be abused by someone you never really trusted in the first place.

He and Peter talked a lot in that little containment cell. Hours of Tony blabbering like he always did when he was uncomfortable and Peter just sitting and waiting, waiting, waiting for the strikes to start coming.

When he said his first words.

When he told Tony his name—not Spider, but Peter Parker, a little boy from Queens who lost his parents and his whole normal life in the same night, according to FRIDAY’s records.

When he touched Tony’s arm for the first time and got a smile instead of a reprimand.

He waited and Tony was patient and it was a rough road, but...Tony was kind of a parent, now. A parental figure, at least, among others of varying degrees of quality and influence on a scarred teenager.

He was Peter’s family, whether either of them was any good at it in a traditional way or not.

And also, you know. His money was paying Peter’s tuition. His time went into helping Peter study for the entrance exam. His name was technically on Peter’s manufactured birth certificate because he was the one forging it and it wasn’t like anyone else was offering when the subject came up.

And maybe, a little, because he cared about Peter. Loved him. Wanted to be what Peter needed, what he deserved, and what better way to do that than to write his name on a piece of paper that signified the job he sort of kind of wanted?

Tony slams the car door behind himself after pulling into Midtown’s parking lot, putting on his sunglasses for the brief trip into the early afternoon sun. He’s checking security cameras, exits, and also preparing a hefty sum of cash to go into Principal Jim Morita’s bank account as well as a handful of government officials, if that’s what it takes.

Again, not that Tony doesn’t trust Peter, it’s just...when you get this kind of call and your kid is a highly trained former assassin, you prepare exit strategies on multiple fronts.

It’s been two months and Peter has only made one friend at this place. The kids can’t all be angels like Peter proclaims Ned Leeds to be. If one of them touched Peter out of nowhere or said the wrong thing, maybe Peter lashed out. Maybe Peter forgot to hold his strength back like he’s been training to do. Maybe something was broken.

Maybe it’s something far worse.

Tony has to be ready for that. He has to be ready for whatever it takes to protect Peter.

At the very least, the police aren’t on site. That’s probably a good sign that they’re willing to leave this as an internal matter for now.

The unhelpful secretary of before leads Tony out of the office by the arm at a quick pace, not explaining the situation at all before they arrive at the scene. Whatever it is. Tony was definitely expecting more blood or yelling or...anything, really.

A small crowd stands outside of a door, marked by a golden plaque to be the janitor’s closet.

Leaning on the door itself with his arms resolutely crossed is a kid about Peter’s age. Short black hair, light brown skin, dressed so similarly to Peter that Tony’s starting to wonder if that’s where Peter’s new obsession with those geeky little t-shirts has come from.

“Mister Leeds—” An older Asian man pleads, dressed in a suit and standing up straight with all of the authority he can seem to muster against the stone wall that is the teen in front of him.

The kid shakes his head in response. So this is Ned, then.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not moving. If he wants to stay in there to calm down, he should be allowed to stay in there.”

“I’m sure his parents—”

“He doesn’t even have—you don’t even know what he’s gone through!”

“And you do?”

“Well...kinda? No. But—but he’s obviously freaking out and everyone crowding around him is only going to make it worse!”

The adult rubs a hand across his forehead, stressing at a fold of wrinkles that settles there from the stress.

“Ned, I recognize you’re just trying to be a good friend, but this is a problem for—”

Tony clears his throat, catching the attention of both parties.

The older man sighs. “Oh, good. Thank you, Theresa, you can go on back to the office. We’ll take it from here.”

The secretary nods, brusquely turning around and heading off, leaving Tony there to be examined by both Ned and what must be the principal.

“Mister Stark, I’m glad you could come down, though I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances. I’m Principal Morita.”

“Obviously you know who I am,” Tony replies, shaking the man’s hand. “What did happen, exactly? Theresa was sparse on the details.”

“I told you, it’s Flash’s fault! He was being a dick and—” Ned shouts.

“Mister Leeds.” The principal interrupts, stern. “Another student apparently said something...unkind to Peter. He didn’t take it well and locked himself in the closet. I haven’t even been able to assess the situation properly yet. Normally I would start with asking Peter’s side of the story, but...”

He looks to the closet, where Ned still stands, defensive.

“The bouncer is a real stickler, got it,” Tony jokes, aiming a small smile at Ned. “Peter does seem to attract the protective type.”

“Oh,” Ned says, suddenly meeting Tony’s eyes and gaping like a fish. He seems to have finally realized exactly who he’s talking to. “Oh, wow. Mister Stark, it’s an honor. I’m a huge fan, like, so huge. Peter tells me to shut up about you at least three times a day. When he showed me a picture of you guys I was like, ‘Oh my god, your dad is Tony Stark!’ and he was like ‘Oh. Yeah, I guess you’d know who he is, huh?’ like he totally didn’t get how awesome it is that you’re Iron Man. And I know you’re only kind of his dad, but still—”

“It’s suddenly become very clear to me why you two are friends,” Tony responds, keeping his smile on.

It’s actually kind of sweet to see that Peter’s found someone to confide in, even if he’s seemingly left out the more traumatic elements. But he also knows that Peter can hear them through the door, and he wants to get to the kid as fast as possible instead of dawdling for time.

If Peter wants to see him, that is.

He does, doesn’t he? Tony has been there for everything, so far. Every breakdown when the choices became too much, when the world outside of Peter’s little cell and all of the things he did that he wishes he could forget attack him at night. He hasn’t gotten old enough to not want Tony around when he’s upset, right?

“Sorry, Mister Stark. Sorry,” Ned apologizes. “I’m just nervous and worried about Peter and—”

“I get it, kid. You’re good.” He gives a reassuring grasp to Ned’s shoulder. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I really need to see Peter now. You can ask him yourself, but I’m usually the exception to any rule about Peter wanting to be alone.”

“Right, yeah. I’ll just—”

Ned turns to open the door, but gives Morita a shifty look, like he doesn’t trust the man not to dive bomb in if given the chance.

“Peter—”

“Let him in,” replies Peter’s strained voice. He’s definitely been crying. Poor kid.

Ned pulls back and nods at Tony, stepping aside to let him through.

“You did a good job protecting him, Leeds. Thank you,” he says to the teen before stepping into the dimly lit closet and shutting the door behind him.

The room smells musty and over-powerful at the same time thanks to the potent combination of cleaners and the mop cart sitting so close together. Out of anywhere Peter could have picked, this probably isn’t the kindest to his sense of smell if it’s making Tony already scrunch his nose.

It’s lit by a single pull-chain light bulb, and in the shadows of it sits Peter, curled into himself and leaning against a rusty metal shelf filled with paper towels, cleaning equipment, and a few bottles of product that have to be expired.

“Hey, Pete.” Tony frowns at the cracked floor tile, but settles himself next to Peter anyway. His back catches some kind of spray bottle sitting on the shelf that digs uncomfortably into his back.

Peter sniffs, not looking up from the cradle of his arms. “Hey.”

Tony heaves a sigh, for the drama. “So, I hear you got your first bully.”

Peter shrugs. “Guess so.”

“That Ted kid is pretty nice. He’s a good friend.”

“Yeah. And his name is Ned.”

Tony stops beating around the bush. “What happened, Peter?”

“It was fine. It was good, you know? I got an A+ on my Spanish test, and Misses Rodriguez offered to let me choose the movie we were gonna watch for the Cinco de Mayo party as a reward. I didn’t even know any of the movies, but Ned said Selena was good because Jennifer Lopez is hot, so that’s what I picked. It was a good day, Tony!”

“...But?”

“But then Flash—”

“I meant to ask, is that his actual name? Like, legally?”

“No.”

“Oh thank god.”

“Flash said…he said I was a…” Peter’s hesitant to let it out.

“Pete, a lot of kids at this age are testing boundaries. They’re going to say a lot of stupid, insensitive, offensive—”

“He said I was a teacher’s pet.”

There’s a long minute of silence. Tony blinks curiously a few times. He doesn’t want to belittle what Peter’s feeling, but he also doesn’t understand why it’s caused him so much stress.

“I know, I know it’s—but they used to—” Peter swallows hard, probably only delaying another wave of tears. “Sometimes, before, they would call me…”

“Pet.”

Peter nods, starting to shake next to him on the floor, their arms lightly touching at just Tony saying the nickname.

“They liked it. I think it made them feel better about themselves if they acted like I wanted it. Like—like being locked in the cages or collared or—or being muzzled was good for me.”

“You need to learn a lesson, little pet. Be a good pet and eat your dinner. Stop your crying, pet. No more of your barking, pet.” Peter quotes with venom flinging from every syllable. “But I didn’t want that, Mister Stark! I promise! They gave me these powers and I didn’t want to be their pet and they made me—”

“Peter, I know. It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault, I know.”

Tony curls Peter into his side, rubbing his back consolingly.

“When Flash called me that I just—I felt the collar around my neck again and I couldn’t breathe though the muzzle and they kept kicking the cage even though it hurt my ears and I could never sleep in there because it was so small and—”

“Peter—” Peter’s hyperventilating. He’s panicking, Tony realizes. Probably just like he did initially. A flashback that triggered him into having a panic attack.

“And I know that’s not what Flash meant but I was back there and I can’t—I can’t stop—”

Peter breaks into sobs, burying his face into Tony’s shirt and clutching on tight.

“Oh, Pete. It’s okay. You’re okay,” Tony soothes.

He presses a kiss to Peter’s hair, unsure when he became this tender. Probably the moment he realized this was the way he wanted someone to treat him in the midst of his worst, most vulnerable moments.

“Sometimes the bad memories come back unexpectedly, it’s alright.”

“But don’t wanna think about it anymore!” Peter cries childishly.

If it wouldn’t break Tony’s ribs, Peter would probably start banging at his chest in frustration.

“What if it gets bad and I don’t talk anymore and I can’t go to school like a normal kid and I lose everything and then you won’t want me anymore because I can’t get over this and stop being a stupid animal who needs its owners to—”

“Peter Parker, no. Absolutely not.”

Tony pushes Peter away so he can hold the boy’s face in his hands. So that he can fucking imbue into this kid how much he is loved and cherished and human.

“You’re not property, and you’re not an animal. What they did to you was wrong, and you know that now. I know that you do.”

Not just because Peter’s been to therapy since integrating with the Avengers, but also because he’s talked to all of him during his recovery from the horrors of his earlier childhood. About how his life felt before and how it feels better now. How he wouldn’t have left in the first place if he really wanted to be a part of Hydra like they raised him to want.

He’s not the child soldier they raised anymore. He’s so much more than they ever allowed him to be in that awful place.

He loosens his grip on Peter’s face only to bring him back again with an arm around his shoulder. Maybe if Peter feels him, touches him, the kid will remember all of the growth he’s made, the family he’s gained.

“Buddy, you are getting better. I know it. I’ve seen it. You know we’re all so proud of you and the progress you’ve made.”

Tony sighs. Part of him wants to sugarcoat it. That Peter has seen the worst of the world and now he’ll just be able to move on from it scott-free. It’s what he deserves, but Tony knows from experience that nothing in life is that sort of kind.

“That doesn’t mean you won’t have setbacks. I have had setbacks. Healing from the bad stuff is really, really hard, but it doesn’t make you anything that they said you were. You’re a wonderful, good kid who deserves everything he’s worked so hard for. And you’re going to get it because you have me and the team and your new best friend behind your back. You’re not alone, you’re not in a cage, you’re—you’re home, Pete. You understand?”

Peter sniffs, a sign that he’s worked himself up again, but his weak nod into Tony’s chest tells him that some of them at least might be happier tears.

“Listen to me, Pete. And I mean really, truly listen.” He looks down at the snot-covered, tear-stained teenager practically in his lap. He does love Peter. He wouldn’t have gone this far for any other kid in the world.

“It doesn’t matter what happens—hitches, mishaps, a dumb teenage mistake. You’re our kid now, Peter. You’re never going back to Hydra. Never. Not with me around.”

He knows it means something to say it out loud rather than leaving it to be assumed. He doesn’t have as much of a problem admitting it as he thought he might.

“I’m never giving you up, or letting you go, or treating you like anything other than a person. Do you understand me? That is something you never, ever have to worry about. Not from me.”

Peter sobs against him. This time it feels a lot more like relief. A release in the safety of Tony’s arms that Peter hasn’t really allowed himself, even after two years of being free of Hydra.

Peter didn’t tell the team everything. He may never even tell Tony everything. But this is one more thing Peter doesn’t have to carry alone, and Tony is happy to help their kid navigate the horrors it's brought back into his improving life.

They sit there for another minute, Peter’s whimpers muffled in Tony’s dress shirt. He’s sure the principal and Peter’s friend are getting antsy. But all the same it gives Peter another chance to calm down, and this time he seems a lot lighter when he picks his head up to look at Tony.

“Feel better?”

Peter gives a sniffle, but accompanies it with a nod and bright, attentive eyes.

“Look, I think school’s a bust for the day. Let’s go home. Whatever you wanna do, just you and me. Nobody else needs to hear about this unless you want to tell them, okay?”

“And if you wanted, I guess…”

Peter tilts his head, expectant.

“We could...nah, it’s probably offensive, right?”

“What?” Peter insists. Tony tried to warn him, but Tony also can’t resist an idea once it pops into his head.

“I just thought, you know, if you wanted—if you thought it would help, we could get you a—“ He almost ruins it, but catches himself. “An animal. Like a dog or something.”

Peter is silent. He bites at his lip, contemplative. Looks in the direction of a mop bucket in the corner.

“Is that bad? You don’t have to, I just thought it might make you associate that word with good things, but if not—“

Peter finally meets his eyes with a tentative grin on his face.

“What kind of dog?”

#irondad #spiderson #au #friendly neighborhood exchange 2021 #marvel #peter parker #tony stark #my writing #hailxhydra

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wickedw3asleys · 3 years

Text

MINEFIELDS - Pt.1

George Weasley x Reader

WARNINGS: mentions of death, trauma, mental instability, depression, ptsd... emotional scenes, basically almost angst but not too much...

AN: hello everyone! so i finally got the time to finish writing the first part of my second serie! (i know i haven't finished my Just Like Heaven one but i have adhd bare with me) and i'm pretty excited about this one since it's not going to be a specific genre like fluff or smut, it'll just be a mini fic, so i hope you'll like it!!🥰

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The Battle of Hogwarts and Fred's premature death was a huge heartbreak for everybody. The ones you once were close to in school were now almost strangers to you. It was sad, pretty sad actually, but none of you got out the same from Hogwarts, and for you, you were still living the trauma and pain of fighting for your life and seeing your friends die, even 4 years later; never being able to fully heal.

You thought that forcing yourself to move on the second you got out of Scotland would help you, but in vain. It was hard for you to completely move on, and the only one that kept you company was Dean, your old Gryffindor friend, who happen to be now your long term boyfriend. He was the only one that was still there after all; not even Harry, Ron, Ginny or Neville bothered in keeping in touch... The only one that sent you a letter from time to time was Hermione. You found yourself writing to her as a sort of therapy, even though you did it once every three or four months. But she was there, somehow...

You learned from her the first year that her and Ron got in a relationship, finally after all these years of being chasing each other; Harry and Ginny were still together; even Luna was now in a happy and healthy relationship, but she couldn't keep you updated about the others.

The part that broke your heart the most was when she first mentioned Molly and Arthur in her letters; after the loss of their son they weren't the same, of course they were still the Weasleys you all once knew, but they were "empty", as Hermione described. Molly, still to this day, would put an extra plate at the family table, expecting to see Fred join them for dinner; and Arthur would spend more and more time in his office, trying to get his mind distracted.

And then George... For the first year he refused to look at himself in the mirror. He wouldn't sleep or eat properly. The day Fred died, a part of him died too, not as twins, but as individual too, and everybody saw it.

When Hermione told you about the hell George had had to go through during these 4 years, you couldn't help but hate yourself deeply for not being next to him and helping him going through that.

"Sometimes I find myself talking to Ronald and Ginny about him, we are all very concerned about him and his health, still to this day... After all, he did not only lost his twin that day... He also lost you..."

Fred, George and you were always together in your school days, since your first day at Hogwarts, even though they were a year older than you. You were always there for them and they were always there for you, always you three, through heaven and hell. You couldn't agree more with Hermione's words, and you hated yourself for that. You had been selfish, not being able to stand by George's side and not giving him any sign of life. At the time, you thought that it would be better for both of you to just disappear, but after all these years, you were completely regretting that decision.

"Sweetheart... Hermione wrote...", Dean says, entering your bedroom, handing you a folder piece of paper, "Are you okay?"

You were once again lost in your thoughts, always the same ones, but Dean always knew how to help you come back to reality. You appreciated that of him, never showing and ounce of pressure or frustration towards you, and you loved him. But you weren't sure if that was truly love or if you were just thankful for him being there... And it was a thought that was slowly killing you inside.

"Huh?", you shook your head, chasing all these intrusive thoughts from it, "Yeah, I'm okay... Let's see what she has to tell me today..."

Dean warmly smiled at you and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, "Okay, tell me if you need anything, alright?"

You nodded and opened the paper the moment he left the room.

"My dearest Y/N,

I hope you are doing well. Everything is great here, we are all doing good. Nothing much has changed, except for Harry and Ginny speaking of engagement... I was supposed to keep it secret because it is not entirely confirmed yet but I couldn't help myself from getting excited over it! A good new like this one is what we all need right now...

That is why I am writing to you, I was thinking about making a reunion... A family reunion... After all these years I think it is finally time to get together and talk around a good dinner... As we used to do... I think it would be great for everyone and Molly is already so excited to have you back home, she misses you so much, Y/N... We all mis you...

I hope I get your response soon...

Your dear friend,

Hermione."

You put the letter on your desk and sighed deeply. You knew one day you would have to go back to the Burrow and see everybody again, and you wanted too. You wanted to feel like home again, feel everybody's love and affection again. You truly had missed all that, but after second thoughts, you weren't sure it was a good idea...

Hermione said everybody was missing you, but was that true? Did they all want to see you? Or do they actually still hate you for leaving? You didn't want to face Ginny's, Harry's or Molly's gaze when you get there, you would be too ashamed of it...

"I think you should go...", Dean says after you explained the letter to him, "It's been 4 years, Y/N... You need to see them as much as they need to see you..."

"I know... But what if they hate me...", you say with a small voice.

"They don't hate you", your boyfriends take your hands in his, "I'm sure they've missed you. You practically lived there when we were in school... And you were always with Fred and George..."

The mention of Fred's name made your whole body shiver. It has been a long time since you've heard his name falling out of someone's mouth, and you could feel your heart drop at the sound of it.

"I miss them... So much...", you start tearing.

"I know, sweetheart, I know...", Dean pulls you in a tight hug, never letting you down and holding onto you for dear life.

"You really think I should go?", you ask a few minutes later.

"I do... I don't like the idea of leaving you alone but I think it would be better if you went by yourself... Next time I'll go with you"

"Are you sure?"

"Completely...", he smiled.

The days that followed Hermione's letter, you had sent your positive response to her and started packing your things for the few days you were going to spend at the Burrow. Hermione had told you that the only one aware of your visit was Molly of course, but it would be a total surprise for the rest, that information only making you more nervous.

The D-day came up more quick than you've had thought, but there you were, now standing in the middle of your living room, saying your goodbyes to Dean, surrounded by your bags.

"Good luck... Everything is going to be okay...", he says, leaving the last small peck on your lips.

You warmly smiled to him and in a second, you apparated on the field in front of the Burrow.

You could feel your eyes already water at the sight of it. It was like nothing had changed, and even after all the thing that house had been through, it looked the same as it did the first time you stayed there.

The smell of rain and wet grass filling your nostrils and the sound of the wind and early birds only made you more nostalgic. Damn you had missed this place. It was home, you were home.

After a moment trying to compose yourself, you took your bags and went straight to the building.

When you got to the front door, you realized that you didn't know what to do; should you knock? Should you just enter the house? Thinking that the second option would be the less appropriate, you decided to just knock, already nervous about who you'd get opening the door.

You waited a few seconds before hearing an echo of someone running though the house, followed by voices and sounds of plates.

"Harry, dear, can you please-

"Hello, Molly...", you smiled to the woman in front of you, "it's been a while..."

She was in complete shock. Her mouth completely open and strangely looking like she was about to pass out.

"Oh Merlin...", she breathes out, "Y/N... It's really you..."

You could see tears starting to form in her eyes, and you felt too weak to stop yours from falling. She opened her arms to you and you didn't hesitate to hug her, instantly starting to sob.

"Let me look at you... Oh my Lord...", she took your face in her hands, rubbing her thumbs on your cheeks, collecting your tears, "You're a grown woman now... I can't believe it... Arthur! Arthur, come here!"

She embraced you again in the warmest motherly hug you've ever received, which only made you sob more.

"What's wrong, mom?", Ron arrived at the door, followed by his sister, Hermione and Arthur, "Who's-

You slowly lift up you head from Molly's shoulder and faced everyone.

"Y/N... You came...", Hermione says, shocked.

"Of course I came..."

Everybody was speechless, not knowing if you were actually real or just a pure product of their imagination. Ginny instantly got towards you, embracing you as warmly as her mother.

"Merlin... How are you?", she asks.

"I'm fine... I'm sorry... I-

"You have nothing to be sorry for, darling...", Mr. Weasley was now the one to hug you.

When he let you go, you looked at the other three people; you couldn't really describe the looks on Harry and Ron's faces, they were visibly shocked, but you couldn't see if they were happy or mad to see you...

"Ronald...", you started to make your way towards him, but quickly, he took a few steps back, "I need to go...", he says, before leaving the room.

You knew it was a fair reaction, he had all the rights to hate you and be upset.

"I'm so sorry...", you sob, "I'm so so sorry..."

Harry put his hand on your shoulder and also embraced you in a warm hug.

You didn't expect the reunion to be this full of emotions, and it wasn't even breakfast's time yet...

Hermione and Ginny helped you with your bags, leading you to Charlie's empty room, the one you always used to stay in whenever you stayed with the Weasleys.

"It hasn't changed a bit...", you say, admiring the house as it was the first time you saw it.

The two girls entered the room and sat on the bed with you, only to stay there in silence hugging you for a moment. As you couldn't believe to actually be there, they couldn't believe it either.

You made a brief resume of what had happened in your life during these 4 years; why you had left, where you were living now, your life with Dean...

"Dean?", Ginny smiled, "Wow... I wasn't expecting that one..."

"Yeah... I hope it's okay though...", you say, embarrassed.

"Don't worry, it's completely fine... Besides...", she stops to lift her hand and wiggle her ring finger, now occupied with a big gemstone.

"Godric! You're joking!", you take her hand, "I mean... Hermione told me about something like this in the letter, but I didn't know it was confirmed!"

"Hermione!", Ginny scolds her.

"Sorry! You know I'm very bad at keeping secrets! I was so excited for you!"

The three of you kept laughing and talking about everything, making you forget about the moment you had been apprehending for the past few days: your first meeting with George.

"Breakfast's ready!", you hear Molly's voice echo through the house, making memories come back to you.

You slowly made your way down the stairs with the girls and when you got to the kitchen, you felt you whole body freeze.

You were feeling like you were about to pass out, but at the same time, you couldn't find yourself making any type of move, you weren't sure if you were still breathing. You felt the weight of the world on your shoulder when you saw the man you had shared so many moments with, and when he turned to face you, you saw his brother.

His body immediately copied yours, not being able to move or say anything, and for a good minute, George and you stood still, staring at each other; and as if you had read each other's mind at the same time, you ran towards each other and crashed in your arms, sobbing like babies. You felt his legs start to lose strength, and you not being able to help him stand, you both let your bodies fall to the ground, still hugging and holding on each other for dear life.

Neither of you had said anything yet, you were both too busy shaking and sobbing to say anything anyways.

The other people in the kitchen didn't say anything either, they just stood there, looking at George and you, knowing that it would be better to not interrupt you and just leave you let your emotions out.

George was obviously was more affected than you were, and you could feel his body tremble with every breath he tried to take.

"I m-missed you... so much...", he managed to say between sobs.

"I missed you too, Georgie...", you keep crying with him.

"W-why... did you... left me..."

"I know... I know... I shouldn't have... I'm so sorry...", you sobbed harder. How could you have done that to him? How could you have left him alone? After everything...

"I'm so sorry, Georgie... So sorry... I missed you so much..."

"Please, tell me you're staying...", he looked at you in the eyes. You could feel his sincerity emane from his body, and you knew he needed you. He needed you as much as you needed him.

"I am staying...", you managed to smile between your tears. George hugged you even tighter than before, crushing your body with his but you didn't care. You'd let him break your whole body if he needed to.

"Georgie... Honey...", you felt Molly's soft presence helping you get up and guiding the both of you to the table. When you sat down, you see that everybody was deeply affected by the scene that just happened; Molly still having tears running down her cheeks and Hermione and Ginny holding onto each other. Even Harry and Ron were on the verge of crying.

You sat down on your chair, George's eyes still on you and your hand in his.

"George, darling..."

You quickly turned your head to the voice behind you.

"Angie...", George got up, almost stumbling on his own feet.

"What is she doing here?", she asks, earning confused looks from everybody.

By the look she had on her face, you knew she wasn't happy to see you. She looked at you with disgust and anger, which was completely fair...

"How dare you?! You filthy little-

"Angie, it's okay... Please, calm down..."

"Calm down?! Look at you! Only her can make you feel that way again!"

"Angelina... I promise I came here to start things over... And do things correctly this time...", you say, tears forming again in your eyes.

"You have NO RIGHTS to be here! After all the damage you caused this family! NO RIGHTS!", she yelled, her eyes almost popping out of her head.

You looked at the people around the table, no one saying anything. Not even Molly was able to form coherent words, she was just there, heavily breathing.

"I'm going to go...", you slowly stand up from your seat, not wanting to make everyone more upset than they already were, "Angelina, I'm sorry..."

She glanced at you in anger, "you shouldn't be here", she spat.

"Y/N, don't leave, please...", George pleaded, eyes red and swollen.

"I'm just going out, I'll be okay, don't worry...", you caressed his arm trying to comfort him, and you could feel Angelina tensing her body at that action, eyes full of fire.

"I'm sorry...", you say before closing the door behind you.

#fred weasley #george weasley #harry potter #hogwarts #weasley twins #fred weasley x reader #george weasley smut #weasley twins x reader #fred weasley smut #george weasley x reader #george weasley fluff #george weasley fic #weasley twins fic #harry potter fic

97 notes · View notes

unknown-writing · 3 years

Text

Summary:

You’ve felt Sad before. But lately, it’s been getting worse these days. Nothing has helped you pull yourself out of this slump. You tried doing anything that your fellow crewmates recommended, but nothing worked. Not even the most basic of tasks helped get you out of this slump.

So….You turned to Other Stuff. You didn’t care whether or not drugs or alcohol wouldn’t actually help you. You just wanted to forget about your Sadness for a while...Even if it was just for five minutes.

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Warning(s): Drug Use[Future chapter(s)], Alcohol consumption[Future chapter(s)], Depression, angst, mentions of suicide attempts[Future chapter(s)], mentions of self-starvation, eventual smut[Future chapter(s).]

Word count: 1k+

Author’s Note: Been feeling really down lately...So, I’m using my crush with Law to my advantage to fight against my intrusive thoughts. Sorry if this starts becoming too much for you to read. Feel free to block my tag “a helping hand” to avoid triggers~!

You counted the amount of days you’ve been feeling Sad like this. And you counted 32 days straight...32 days of constant sadness, some days were bad, other days where so bad that you never even got up unless somebody came to fetch you for Law. Today was no exception to those extremely bad days. By the time you had woken up, it was already past Noon, and everybody had gone to the Island that they'd reached to stock up on supplies for their next voyage. Groggy as all hell, you slowly woke up, your body felt extremely heavy and Hot...Too hot almost, you just ignored the heat though and went to change into your usual casual but nice looking attire for the day, slapping on a baggy, unclean tank-top, your baggy sweatpants that you’ve been wearing for the past month, and then your running shoes.

You lazily pulled yourself together before heading out to the main dining room area in the hopes of grabbing some food, only to pause and remember that the main reason why the ship wasn’t moving was because they went to stock up on food. “No food huh?....Guess I’ll starve.” You mumbled to yourself, grabbing at least a bottle of water before heading out so it made it look like you’ve eaten.

Gulping down half of the bottle already, you reached the main lobby area of the ship, seeing the same crew members that followed Law, they were just muttering amongst themselves quietly, they sounded more excited than usual to you, “Too Loud...” You thought to yourself as you decided to head outside for some fresh air rather than mingle with the crew today. Despite the fact that you barely know any of them aside from Bepo and Penguin for the most part, as they’re the ones that tend to stick to Law’s hip like lost kittens.

Once you were outside of the ship, you noticed a lot of boxes that started showing up out of the blue, you then noticed that you had walked into a Room created by Law. “....Right, I forgot we were gathering more supplies….” You thought as you took a look at what he’d gotten for his crew, and possible extra’s in case they ran into the Straw Hat’s as they’re still in an Alliance of sorts from what you can recall. You yawned before going forward while crawling down from the top of the Submarine, placing your water bottle down on a closed box nearby so you could at the very least, help put the stuff back.

Before you could move anything though, Bepo noticed you were awake, “Oh!? Y/n san’s finally awake!” he shouted while pointing towards you lifting a box to give it to another, much more stronger crew member to carry it down into the ship for you. Law noticed that you were trying to help despite how late you’ve slept in recently. “Morning.” he says as he patted your head gently while climbing up into his ship for the day to get stuff organized. You didn’t do much, you were just helping lifting boxes but even so, that got you a “Morning” from your captain, usually he would just glare at you then turn to finish whatever he was doing. Shrugging it off, you continued to help out until your arms felt like jelly, being the weaker one out of the group, you were better off at organizing stuff rather than carrying it.

As the crew gathered in the main hallway, Law looked around to see that stuff wasn’t organized like he thought it was, “Tch...Dammit. Everything seems to be mis-matched and out of order. That’ll be a pain in the ass to deal with.” He looked as he opened the boxes, to find that the only things that were separated was Produce and Weaponry (Guns, Gun Ammo etc.) You looked at his irritated face and then spoke up, “I can organize things for you, Law.” You offered, bending down to be at his height level to look at the current box of mis-matched random items..Some of them seemed to be medicine and bandages, while others looked like paperwork stuff. “You know how to organize Y/n? I highly doubt it seeing your room is a mess.” He bounty states, commenting on your messy room. You chose to ignore that though and stood up, “I can organize shit! I may need help though.” You asked him, hoping he’d order the crew to help you organize this stuff better for him while he did other stuff that needed his attention. “....Fine….You can take charge in organizing this Mess...Bepo will come with me to navigate us to the next Island….” He pauses then glares at the crew that didn’t seem to accept the fact that the weakest member of the ship was the one bossing them around, “And the lot of you...Listen to y/n! The faster this shit gets organized, the faster we set sail got it? I don’t want to be bothered by random bullshit complaints because a chick’s bossin’ you around.” he bluntly comments again, making the crew stiffen in slight fear of his booming voice that echoed the room.

After three straight hours of organizing, replacing, and relabeling items, you sat down on the nearest surface your body could reach. That was a daunting task to do considering you’re not in the best mindset right now. Ikkaku helped out with part of the relabeling the items that seemed to either have a missing label, or have the wrong one altogether. “Well, that went by fairly swiftly..” Penguin commented while placing the final box with the rest of them before flopping on the floor, completely drained from helping out with the heavy lifting. You sat there, now regretting not at least grabbing a small thing to eat before starting this heavy workload, your stomach growled softly, which made you flustered. “Hungry huh?” Ikkaku commented while standing up again to get back to work, “Yeah….Maybe just a little bit.” You admit, but didn’t mention that you didn’t eat anything for breakfast or lunch either.

Part of the crew split off after organizing stuff for you to get started on dinner as it was already close to 7pm. You decided to go back to your room until dinner was ready. The comment about how messy your room was started to repeat in your head until you had flopped onto your bed, groaning in annoyance, “Why does he have to be so right.”

You then fell asleep through dinner. Your mental state was getting even worse than what it already was.

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You didn’t mean to sleep right through dinner. You even had set up an alarm to wake you at least 25 minutes before so you had time to wake up, get dressed quickly, then head out to the dinning hall...But, by the time you had woken up, it was 7:30am the next morning, at least from what your clock had told you. You couldn’t tell since the ship was under water again, having set sail for the next Island which would take them a while to get too. You groaned, cursing as you slowly got up again and then sighed. Your eyes weren’t even fully open yet but you still got up regardless to go eat something for today.

You paused before standing up from the bed, hearing muffled whispers against your door, you thought you were hallucinating and just shrugged it off. But, the whispers kept happening, they started to get louder and from what you can tell, the whispered voices seemed to be arguing about something. “--No! You wake her up! The last time I woke her up, she threw her pillow at my face in irritation!” A male voice echoed, you instantly recognized who it was...Groaning, you yawned as you stood up to head outside to see why Bepo and whoever else was there, was arguing right in front of your door so early in the morning. They /know/ your not a morning person, so why the fuck are they here?

Unlocking the door, the two crewmates flinched to see you after being asleep for so long. “O-Oh! Hello y/n san! Good morning!” Bepo stuttered out, nervous on why you look so deadly. It worried him that you looked like this. “.....Morning……” You weakly responded, noticing that Ikkaku was holding a tray of food for you..A lot of it too, it looked like they were some of your favorite meals they had prepared. “Sorry to bother you y/n san but, we thought you were sick, so we brought you some food! We made sure to bring a lot of it because you missed out on food yesterday.” She said, pointing out that she noticed you were hungry yesterday. You internally smacked yourself, forgetting that you never ate a single thing yesterday. Reaching out for the tray of piled on food, you took it to place it on the small desk you had then turned to face them, “Thanks for the food.” You said weakly, as you closed the door to your bedroom.

“Don’t thank us.” Ikkaku said before turning to head the other way, “Thank Law. Since he was the one that noticed you weren’t at dinner last night.” She said before leaving with Bepo following her….Haring that line, just made you feel more guilty. You had worried your captain to the point of him making enough food for you to eat for the day, despite the fact that you’re just not Hungry. Sighing, you still decided to eat some of the food in front of you, even if it was just in small bites here and there. Even so, you couldn’t finish that much. Setting aside, you flopped back on the bed.

The next few hours had passed. You woke up to loud banging against your door, startled awake, you groaned as you got up, “Alright already, I’m awake! Sheesh!” You yelled, then started to mutter to yourself, “Don’t start snapping back y/n-ya.” Law replied, which made you freeze up. You should’ve expected that he was the one that would start banging on the door next, considering he’s your captain, and a doctor. Opening the door to see that he was scowling, he looked down at you, a sting of guilt punched your throat, which made you start to stutter out a weak response to his glare. He didn’t respond back however, all he did was walk into your room and started turning on the bedroom lights for you, seeing that you’ve done nothing but stay in the dark for the last 72 hours.

“Three days.” he starts off after he clicks on your nightstand lamp before turning back to glare down at you, “it’s been three days since you’ve been cooped up in here by yourself.” A low growl of irritation leaked his throat, which caused you to flinch again. A brief moment of silence filled the room before you could respond, “....I’m Sorry.” You simply said while staring at the floor, feeling both guilty and nervous on what he was going to do next. Before you could respond, all he did was lift you with one arm over his shoulder, and then bring you to his office for a small Chat about your Mental State.

#tw// drug use #tw// alcohol #tw// angst #tw// depression #tw// self starvation #tw// suicide attempts #not a request #long fic #trafalgar law #law x reader #law x y/n #one piece x reader #a helping hand

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kopikokun · 4 years

Text

Pity Party Crasher༄ nakamoto yuta

↳ Just great. You’ve just been dumped at this stranger’s party and all you want to do is curl up in a corner and cry, which is... exactly what you do. To your surprise though, there’s been an uninvited guest to your pity party.

pairing: nakamoto yuta x reader

content: fluff, comfort fic, alcohol consumption

wordcount: 1912 words

author’s note: ehehe can you guys guess who yuta’s supposed to be? also, this is a little rushed which i hope you can forgive me for since it was supposed to be short but turned into a full oneshot

— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝.

They don’t seem to stop. No matter how many times you swipe at your puffy eyes, the tears keep pouring down in a constant stream, falling in droplets onto the fabric of your costume and no doubt smearing your makeup beyond all repair.

People are starting to stare, you realise which does nothing to boost your crumbling self-esteem at the moment. Nobody even bothers to approach you and ask you what’s wrong. All they do is ogle at you like you’re some sort of strange creature at the zoo. But then again, if someone walked up to you right now and asked you what’s wrong, you’d probably start bawling like a baby and humiliate yourself further. Even so, you wish at least someone here bothered enough to ask you if you were okay. Call it selfish, but you really wish you had someone to turn to right now.

All this extravagance does not faze you though. The second the toilet door locks with a click, shielding you from everybody’s eyes, you make a beeline towards the toilet--well, one of the two toilets--flip the lid shut and fall into it. You tuck your knees to your chest, burying your face as you finally allow a sob to wrack through you.

In the back of your mind, the self-assured, rational part of you knows that this is dumb. That foul man doesn’t deserve your tears after what he’s done. He doesn’t deserve even another ounce of your energy or another second of your time. He deserves absolutely nothing from you, and you know that for a fact, yet the tears are still hot and wet as they continuously trickle down your cheeks.

How embarrassing, you think. Here you are, looking nothing short of stunning in your Halloween costume, isolating yourself in some stranger’s bathroom, mascara running down your face all because your no good boyfri--ex-boyfriend, stood you up and proceeded to dump you over text, leaving you completely alone at this party filled with people you’ve never met because he had pleaded for you to go. God, just thinking about it makes your blood boil.

Your very own pity party is swiftly sabotaged when you hear the unmistakable sound of a shampoo bottle dropping and a barely whispered, “Crap!” coming from none other than the bathtub.

At this sudden intrusion, you immediately lunge to your feet, grabbing onto the nearest available weapon (which is a hairbrush in your case) and soundlessly tiptoe towards the source of this mysterious sound.

You pause, swallowing dryly. “Hello? Is there somebody there?”

The shower curtains almost immediately slide open in response and a scream gets caught in your throat as you raise the hairbrush menacingly over your head, in what you think is the best position to strike this person in.

“Woah! Oh my God, calm down!”

The identity of the culprit is revealed, although upon seeing his face you still have no idea who he is and, more importantly, why he was hiding in the bathtub. The stranger has his hair dyed a bright, almost neon pink, and little equally as pink antennas sticking out of his head. It’s painfully obvious they’re handmade by how asymmetrical they look, but you applaud the effort. He has his hands up defensively as he peers at you with caution, like you’re some feral, untamed creature, though to be fair, you probably look like one. All this while, this weirdo is still perched in the bathtub.

“What are you doing in here?” you hiss, letting the hand which was holding your makeshift weapon fall limp to your side. The man’s shoulders visibly loosen.

“Look, I know how weird this looks--”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“But I genuinely didn’t mean to be here and listen in on you,” he says. “In fact, I was here first.”

While that statement is true, his argument just leaves you with more questions. “Okay, but why the hell were you camping out in the bathtub of all places? Who does that?”

The man smiles sheepishly. “Look, I have my reasons.”

You expect him to explain himself, but oddly, he keeps quiet. You tap your foot impatiently and cross your arms like a disappointed mother reprimanding their child. “Okay, well, do feel free to explain these reasons.”

“Okay, well, you might want to take a seat for this one,” he says, gesturing to the toilet you were previously sat on, and you can’t help but snort. Nevertheless, you take this peculiar man’s advice and sit back down on the cold, hard toilet lid. “So, long story short, some guy out there really wants to kill me.” He pauses for extra affect. “In the most agonising way he can come up with.”

You physically recline back in what can only be shock. “Oh, wow. You’re serious?”

“Excuse the pun, but yes, I’m drop-dead serious.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, that’s dumb. Why’d you choose to hide out in here of all places then? Why not just go home?”

The man’s mouth hangs open, almost like he’s about to say something in retaliation before he promptly shuts it. “Hey, you know what?” he says, head tilted. “I didn’t think about that.”

You roll your eyes at his confession, though you can’t wipe the amused smile from your face. You briefly wonder exactly why this man is on someone’s hitlist. But you think that asking that question would only lead to equally--if not stranger answers.

“What about you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why are you camped out here in the bathroom?”

You chew on your bottom lip, sudden anxiety beginning to grip onto you. You didn’t expect him to ask that. No doubt he had heard your heaving sobs through the flimsy material of the shower curtain, but you didn’t expect him to ask any further questions. Really, you were sure he was just going to brush it off and pretend like nothing ever happened, and that you were just in the toilet for more normal toilet-like business.

“I mean,” he leans on the wall behind the bathtub, “you don’t have to tell me anything. I totally get that. But if you want to say something, I’m willing to listen. I’ve got a lot of time to kill. Excuse the pun. Again.”

You smile softly. You’re not sure what exactly compels you to confide in this stranger, maybe it’s the genuine concern present in his voice, the delicate look in his eyes behind those green-tinted glasses, or maybe it’s just the fact that he’s somehow made you at least chuckle, just moments after your breakdown, which in the moment, was something you thought you’d never be able to accomplish, at least for another week.

“I--” you start, searching for the right words to say. “I got dumped by text by my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend,” you correct yourself. “And I didn’t even want to be at this dumb party to begin with. The guy had the gall to beg for me to come, and fucking dumped me after I dressed up and everything. Through text.” Crap. You can feel them coming. Another onslaught of fresh tears bombards you. You try your best to suck them back in, but a few stray ones stream down your cheeks.

“What a dick. Without a doubt, I can tell that you’re way above his league. He’s just a fucking prick.” Somehow, him dissing your ex-boyfriend makes your chest feel a little lighter. “But hey, are you okay?”

You angrily swipe your tears away with the back of your palm. “Yeah, whatever. I’m over it.” You know that’s a lie. But it’s more of a lie to fool yourself into believing than the man before you.

“If it makes you feel any better, the guy who’s trying to kill me is actually my girlfriend’s boyfriend.”

“What?” you sputter. You blink back your visible shock. “You mean you were seeing some girl who’s already in a relationship?” You can’t hide the evident disgust on your face.

“No! No! Of course not. I’d never do that!” he almost yells, appalled you’d ever accuse him of such a heinous act. “You know me better than that.” Again, his antics bring a humoured snort out of you. “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. I thought she was single. At least, that’s what she told me, but obviously, she was lying. She didn’t think I’d be at this party, so she brought along her boyfriend and now he’s found out and he’s trying to murder me, hence why I’m in the bathtub.”

You grimace. You should definitely offer him some consolation. It’s the least you can do after what he’s done for you. “Are… Are you okay?” you find yourself repeating his line of question back to him.

The man grins lopsidedly. “Yeah, I’ve drowned all my sorrows in alcohol and,”--He reaches into the bathtub before pulling out and entire bottle of some expensive looking champagne--“I’ve got more.”

You snort. “You stole the alcohol?”

“In my defence, this is so little compared to what’s out there that I really doubt anyone noticed.” He shrugs. “Plus, have you seen the size of this house. I mean, take this bathroom for instance. There’s two sinks! Who the hell needs two sinks? Even if I stole a truckloads worth of alcohol--which trust me, I was tempted to do--that would barely scratch the surface of this guy’s no doubt massive alcohol collection.”

You slump in your seat. “You know what? A truckload of alcohol sounds really nice right now.”

“Is that you telling me that you’re willing to help me in my alcohol heist?”

You laugh. “What? I didn’t say that… Although, my little hands could probably hold a bottle or two…”

The man leaps from the bathtub, outstretching his hand to you. “Alright then, come along my partner in crime. I’ve got some crisps in my car and we’re getting wasted tonight.”

“You’re just inviting a stranger into your car?” you tease. “What if all of this was just some extravagant ploy to get me close enough to kill you?”

The man grins cheekily, rouge beginning to dust his cheeks from the alcohol he’s consumed. “I wouldn’t mind being murdered by such a pretty girl.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you scoff, a bit taken aback by this brazenly flirtatious comment. Admittedly, you’re not opposed to it.

You place your hand in his, and his smile broadens as his hand tightens around yours. His smile is infectious, you find.

“And what might be my partner in crime’s name, may I ask?”

The man laughs as he tugs you from your seat, and it’s the nicest laugh you’ve ever heard.

“Nakamoto Yuta. My name is Nakamoto Yuta.”

“Well, Nakamoto Yuta,” you grin, “lead the way.”

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flightofaqrow · 3 years

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YOUR CHARACTER IN FIVE QUOTES!

( repost, do not reblog. ) Tell us your favorite quotes from your character. Give us an idea of who they are by five things they’ve said.

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Alright, buckle up, I’m stealing this meme and repurposing it for my own use. Probably more than five, and including some quotes from others about him, though I’m going to try to keep it in groupings, and also not meant to be exhaustive of qrow’s character, but rather, to point out some very poignant lines that have effected my portrayal and... some possibly in an unpopular way compared to what I’ve seen in the fandom? I think Qrow Branwen is more complex than fitting the broody broken boi trope would give credit for (though he at least fits it as an overall stereotype).

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1) I’m absolutely sure Qrow had a rough start and transition from the tribe to ‘civilized society’, coupled with typical teenage hormones and mood swings, but generally, Beacon was a good time, and he sees himself as a good huntsman, and (though we may joke about it sometimes) he absolutely does not have an active nor passive death wish.

Yeah, yeah, I know he has a song all about how he self depreciates and carries shame, but that’s a theme of his attitude, not backed up to be every single aspect of his life by actual canon. Quite the contrary.

I don’t know where fndm gets the idea that he constantly lost his battles (especially to Raven) or was perpetually looked down on or stayed an angsty, broody teenager (who could never possibly have ever even breathed a single happy breath on his own without Summer??) all four years. As if school was hell and he never came into his own until STRQ was a graduated unit or something? If ever?

Leo tells Raven she and her brother are evenly matched. Raven herself - who takes pride in being stronger and more clever than others - describes them as a pair: “we were good.”

“you're talking to a member of the coolest team that graduated Beacon! ...we were pretty well known back in the day. ...hey, we looked good! and I have a number of inappropriate stories to back that up!”

“let me tell ya, these kids are way better than we were at their age. ...well, not better than me, specifically...”

“a professional huntsman like myself is expected to get results as soon as possible.”

The way Qrow talks about his past, as well as carrying a memento of team STRQ around with him, it’s very nostalgic for better times. The way he talks about his work, if not himself, can actually be to the point of being self-aggrandizing, instead of depreciating. He’s even able to admit that his dreaded semblance, Misfortune, “comes in handy in a fight.”

“lots of us thought you were just layin' low. eventually, we just came to accept that you were probably dead. but the stories about you, i based my weapon off of yours. i wanted to be as good as the Grimm Reaper.”

Qrow talks about himself as striving to be better. It seems he never really sees himself as reaching that standard, but it certainly implies he knows he’s not at the bottom - he had an ideal he wanted to reach and likely worked towards. Notice the use of “us” and “we” as well - he talks about himself as part of a group of larger huntsfolk circles. Who knows if this refers to students or licensed professionals or both, but this heavily, heavily implies that he was more than just a sad, outside loner, at least for a time; he chatted with others and traded stories about goings-on and missions and idols.

Somewhat related and leading into...

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2) At least around this blog, Qrow does not have an inferiority complex because of Raven.

Does he have some internalized shame about being soft that he can’t quite shake? A few insecurities about being unwanted compared to her natural leadership and competence? Yes. Does he consciously view himself as lesser than her? No.

Also... he’s not co-dependent on her. To a degree, for while? Yeah, there was probably an unhealthy reliance going on there. But Qrow and Raven establish themselves with their own identities at some point, they’d have to, to chose different paths so stubbornly. There’s a rift there, eventually, if not always having been at odds in some ways and comfort in others.

“Raven's got an interesting way of looking at the world that I don't particularly agree with. [The weak die, the strong live. Those are the rules.]”

“...they were killers and thieves.”

We are shown that the twins were raised with this weak/strong dichotomy. Raven bought into it, but Qrow explicitly separates himself from that belief. Shown again when he mocks Raven with, “because that was your rule, right?”

He believes in true family, he believes in protecting the weak, he believes in doing good, he believes in standing up for what’s right. He may not like being emotionally vulnerable, but he shows softness and kindness to others, and for as much as he likes his flourish when fighting, he also isn’t afraid to look an absolute fool either.

He is shown de-escalating conflict time and again, even if he also falls back into violent, defensive patterns at times, too. He resents Raven for the choices she made, and as far as I interpret, thinks she’s the lesser one for running away and abandoning her family and her mission. (Meanwhile, she thinks the same of him for turning his back on the tribe.)

He all but spits on the tribe’s way of life, is willing to attack them outright to get the Spring Maiden. Why would he judge himself by those standards any longer? No, he lives by his own code, a huntsman’s code, and even has some pride in that. It’s why he can call Clover out on it. It’s why he folds when Robyn holds him to it.

It’s why it hurts when he finds out what gave him more meaning, aligned more with his own heart, than the tribe’s dogma may not actually have any purpose at all...

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3) There’s so much to unpack here:

“No one wanted me... I was cursed... I gave my life to you because you gave me a place in this world... I thought I was finally doing some good... Meeting you... was the worst luck of my life...”

No one wanted him? I believe this means the tribe, maybe even Raven, maybe trying to make friends, but no one until Oz? Does this include STRQ? I have trouble reconciling that one with everything else we’re shown. I still maintain he was part of bigger circles, but we get confirmation that these were probably fleeting or superficial. He knew people and was known, but no one stuck around. Also more confirmation of his values. Gave me a place sounds like so much more than refocusing to me. It’s not gave me a direction, not told me what to do, it’s took who i am and gave that person a place to thrive - despite the bad that comes with - to work towards something better. Just like he always wanted.

But then he backtracks. What is it he regrets? We do know how he likes to go into dramatic hyperbole about these things when he’s upset. [eg. “we’re not family anymore.” “i shouldn’t have come. i shouldn’t have let any of you come.” “we can kill the man who put us here.” “gone. like everybody else.”] (I love that crwby lets their characters do it. we all say things we don’t mean in the moment, give voice to those intrusive thoughts.)

I’ve talked before about how I picture him having flashes of all the lives he could have had instead. Would he have gone back with Raven and at least still had her? Would he just have been a normal huntsman defending people from Grimm without the crushing extra knowledge? Might he have been able to have a relationship or family of his own had he not signed up for the vagabond spy life? Does he just resent losing Summer and Raven because of how things went down? We don’t know, and I think the point is that he probably doesn’t either, but the weight of sacrificing all those alternatives and putting so much faith in Ozpin, stacking so much of his life’s work and identity on being part of the inner circle, comes crashing down on him all at once.

also quite fitting...

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4) "Nice place to raise a family. ...If you're ...into that sort of thing."

This is from his World of Remnant narration, talking about Patch, but it hits so damn hard. The softness and warmth in the first half of the statement, followed by the harsh need to qualify it in regards to his own outlook... We learn all we need to know about his opinion of the subject.

We see the conflict right there - the possibility of such a thing brings a wholesome lilt to his voice, yet he implies that it’s not something he personally intends to pursue. Is that because he doesn’t want it or because he thinks he can’t or shouldn’t have it? I don’t think that’s clear, and he may not know either.

At the very least, I fall into the camp of him believing he doesn’t want it. Combine that with the fact that he does pick up that spy life, which makes keeping his distance a necessity, and makes settling down near impossible, and then he definitely knows it’s not in the cards for him.

So I think it ultimately falls somewhere between. Why would he make the commitment to being a lone spy if he had dreams of love and a family? ...But then why would he resent making the sacrifice of that possibility later if he didn’t?

Having his nieces around probably softened him up to the idea, but he’d already made his decision by that point. He’s also solid and generally happy with his choices at the point it would most matter. He’s married to his job. He’s fulfilling his missions well, in well-suited ways for his strengths and flaws. He has his nieces around as a balm on any sort of biological clock. He has his purpose with Oz. Until he doesn’t.

This is an incredibly long-winded way of restating that one of the headcanon hills I do stand to die on is: Gray-romantic Qrow.

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5) “some people are just born unlucky... my semblance isn't like most - it's not exactly something i... do.”

I am constantly confused by the amount of people trying to do character analysis around Misfortune and Qrow based on standard semblance lore, when he has yet again stated explicitly to the contrary. We all have carte blanche ya’ll. We can do whatever we want with this, because he’s already told us his semblance breaks the rules.

My full headcanon for it is here and my opinion about the direction I hope it takes is here but tl;dr

Unless we learn otherwise, there are very, very few ways I believe Misfortune is a reflection of Qrow’s soul, if at all. This is from the first headcanon, but it’s worth restating, because it’s important to me, aaand fits the theme of pulling in some quotes from other characters:

Everyone likes to quote Ren and his description of someone’s personality being incorporated into a semblance. I don’t buy it for qrow. Here’s the FULL quote: “A common philosophy is that a warrior’s Semblance is a part of who they are. Some say your personality and character can define your Semblance while some claim that it is the other way around. Of course, there are still many who don’t see a connection at all.”

So unless we find out otherwise I will also die on the hill that qrow is an example of the middle part. Qrow’s personality/soul has nothing to do with why his semblance is what it is, but being forced to grow up and live with Misfortune has defined him tremendously.

OKAY, there are some smaller quick ones, but I’ll stick to my five points like I promised at least, and maybe do a lesser version some other time. :]

#qrow branwen #* legends and stories; some of them true; some made up = meta *#* hey don't get mad cause i'm right = headcanon *#long post tw

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koris-crumbs · 3 years

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Tea With The Todorokis:

A Todokami/Dabihawks story

Suggested by @camys1984

‘I have a todokami hc that's like, shouto and touya have sibling bonding time talking bout the energetic blonds they like, while neither the league or 1A knows.’

A/N: Sorry for taking so long with this request! I’ve been pretty busy the past couple weeks. Feel free to make more requests on this post, or go back to the original one!

Warnings: Cursing

It was cold. Even with half of his body feeling like it was practically on fire (which it was), Shoto still somehow felt cold. It made sense why, it was the end of November and it had been raining for the past couple days. Not cold enough for snow, but not warm enough for sun. Well...it was nighttime at the moment, but you get the picture. Now, you might be wondering what the hell Shoto was doing walking down the streets of Musutafu at eight ‘o clock at night, by himself, in the cold. The flickering light that came from the few streetlights was the only thing illuminating Shotos path, the streets empty as most people were waiting out the cruddy weather in their own homes. Probably everybody except for Todoroki.

To get to the main point, Shoto didn’t even want to be out here in the first place. The only reason he was out here is mainly because it would help him clear his mind, he had a lot of thoughts streaming in and out of his head...some of them more intrusive then others. You see, a certain electric blonde had managed to be occupying all the space in his brain. Yup, that electric blonde being the one and only Denki Kaminari. Shoto hadn’t even realized how it happened, hadn’t even taken notice of the times when he was staring long-fully across the classroom or the dorms at Denki. Brushed off the times when he found his mind drifting to thoughts of the bubbly, loud giggle of the human pikachu look-a-like. He had pushed his actual feelings down so much, that when he finally realized they might be a little less platonic then he originally thought, his brain just froze. Along with his entire right side.

Once he was aware of how he really felt for his extroverted and outspoken classmate, he didn’t know how to act around Kaminari anymore. It’s not like he was super close with the boy, at least he didn’t think so..? Denki usually just teased him the same amount he teased everybody else. Except for his friends that were dubbed the ‘Bakusquad’. That got Shoto thinking even harder about the subject. Was Kaminari...romantically involved with anyone? Kirishima? Sero? Hell, even Bakugo would make more sense than him getting with Shoto of all people. A dark feeling started boiling up from deep inside of Todoroki. He didn’t realize what it was at first, but then recognized it as the feeling of jealousy. It wasn’t something Shoto felt a lot, and it definitely wasn’t something he wanted to feel all the time. It made him feel...bad. Not that he hasn’t ever felt bad before. He definitely has. But, this was a different kind of bad. Jealousy was a different kind of bad...

“Something on your mind, little brother?” A deep, gravelly voice grumbled out from behind one of the nearby Japanese Maple trees. Oh. Right. There was another reason he had ventured out of the dorms this late at night. And that reason had been because of his hot-headed older brother. Touya Todoroki. Or as most of the world knew him, Dabi. To make a long story short, Touya had faked his death, lied to the entire family and had the world believing he was deceased. Going by the alias Dabi, and ‘becoming a villain’, although he knew better. The whole world believed it except for a chosen few who knew the truth. Those being Shoto, obviously, and the number two hero, Hawks. The only reason Hawks knows is because him and Shoto’s brother had gotten rather...close recently. Touya hasn’t clarified if they were romantic with each other, but it was clear that they were involved. Todoroki didn’t really feel the needy to ask about it, and really didn’t want to hear his own flesh and blood talk about how...intimate him and Hawks got. Shoto had learned enough about Touya to know that he wouldn’t hesitate in going into extreme detail about those sorts of things...

“You’ve been quiet for a while, so I’m gonna take that as a yes.” He drawled sarcastically. Pushing himself off of the tree from his position where he had been leaning against it. He shuffled up next to the heterochromic-colored eyed boy, bumping Shoto’s arm with his. The younger brother knew he had flinched, it was still weird to think that the guy who had literally kidnapped one of his best friends only a few months ago, had secretly been his brother and wasn’t even a villain technically. More like a vigilante if anything. Todoroki wasn’t gonna sugarcoat it, he knew him and his brother needed to discuss a lot more than the shit they had briefly touched on before. Shoto definitely had mixed feelings about his brother right now, but he couldn’t touch on them at the moment. Since Touya has decided teasing Shoto was his new favorite past time.

“Or...perhaps a someone-?”

“Oh shut it.” Todoroki immediately shut down Touyas jab at him. Which made the black haired males eyes gleam curiously and mischievously. A grin spreading across his face, which caused his scar to stretch in a way that made my skin crawl. Although I couldn’t really say much either.

“Oh-ho-ho, you definitely are. So, who is it? Midoriya? Bakugo? Maybe Yaoyorozu-?”

“Shut. Up.” Shoto hissed. Elbowing his older brother in the ribs. He had to admit, this was...nice. Most of Shotos family didn’t really know how to take jokes, to be fair neither did Shoto, but Touya was different. Fuyumi always treated him as a fragile little boy who would break if she said the wrong thing to him. Natsuo was hardly ever home, and the conversations they had on the phone were more like, ‘so how has school been? How’s the weather there? Etc, etc.’ they couldn’t do any joking with each other. Dad was...well, dad. And mom and him still hadn’t really gotten to that level of familiarity quite yet. Touya was the only one who he could talk to like this...the only one who would understand. Even if he wasn’t a hero, hell, he could hardly even be considered good...Shoto understood Touya. And Touya could understand him without either of them having to exchange words. So maybe...maybe he would understand this feeling that Shoto has been feeling more recently. He has experience right? With Hawks?

...It was better than asking dad.

“Touya..?” Shoto started, shoving his hands in his pockets as the two started walking side by side once again. Their shoes scraping against the concrete roughly as the two of them were dragging their feet, probably both needing to talk about something. Todoroki could physically feel his brother bristle up a bit at the usage of his real name. Being called by his fake name this entire time, it made sense why.

“What.” He responded dully. Almost as if he was bored of this conversation already. Shoto briefly wondered again if this was a bad idea. If his brother was going to be a dick about this...was it really worth it? “Spit it out, Shoto.” Touya piped up again, snapping his younger brother out of his thoughts. Shoto hesitated for another moment or so before taking a deep breath, and beginning to spill his thoughts.

“Is it normal...to feel attracted to someone you hardly know..?” Shoto asked softly, his voice barely a whisper. He didn’t like how his brother was quiet for more than a minute, it definitely didn’t calm the growing pit in his stomach. If he really had feelings for Kaminari, and Touya didn’t have anything to offer him, he was gonna be completely lost on how to make a move.

“Yeah. Attraction is totally normal. If the person looks good especially. This doesn’t seem like that though...this seems more involved. You’re romantically interested in someone it seems like...you have feelings for em.” Touya explained with a small grin on his face, staring ahead at the road in front of them. Shoto was surprised his brother had actually given him a decent word of advice. As he thought about what he had said for a bit longer, Shoto realized Touya was right. His feelings for Denki hadn’t been just a little, ‘oh he looks good’, he was attracted to the electric blondes personality. Some saw it as annoying, Shoto found it endearing. Some found Denkis constant flirting a nuisance, while Shoto wished the other male would flirt with him instead of everybody else. Huh.

Oh fuck...he had feelings for Denki fucking Kaminari...

“...Ah, okay...” Shoto awkwardly mumbled in response to his brother giving him a questioning look. He had probably been silent for too long again...he should change the subject, quick, quick. “So, I’m assuming you’ve experienced this before..?” Shoto asked quietly. Yes, he had an idea of who it was that his brother was involved with, but he just wanted to make sure he had it right and wasn’t thinking about things too much. Flashbacks of when he accused Midoriya of being All Mights secret love child flashed through his brain...which in his defense kind of made sense, but still.

“Well yeah, no shit. You think I would tell the number two hero who I actually was if I wasn’t involved with them in some way?” Touya snapped back sarcastically. The older male crossing his arms, which let Shoto get a better view of the rest of the burns and scars that were occupying Touyas arms. Snapping his gaze back forward, he thought about what his brother had just revealed. He knew there was a pretty good chance Touya had been romantically connected with the hero, but hearing it come straight from the others mouth was a whole different thing. “...He’s honestly my lifeline, Sho. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t met him when I did...the League isn’t exactly a friendly environment to sit down and talk about how you miss your family and don’t really wanna be doing that kind of shit anymore just for kicks...” Touya continued. And Shoto listened intently. Happy that him and his brother were finally discussing something. It seemed like that was all Touya had the guts to share though, since he stopped talking soon after that. Shoto was also silent for a few moments, before finally speaking up again.

“Well, Hawks is a good person to be around. He annoys the hell out of dad as well, that’s a plus.” The half and half male attempted to joke. Only earning a slight chuckle from his older brother, before the two fell back into their awkward silence. God, this felt so weird...at the same time though, it felt familiar. Like they were just normal siblings talking about their crushes to each other. Shoto knew that Touya only focused on most of the ‘stronger’ people in his class. Bakugo, Midoriya, Tokoyami, etc...so he may not know who Kaminari was...it was fine to drop at least a couple hints...right? “...The guy I like is really loud, can be considered annoying, but he’s really sweet. And determined. He thinks he’s weak and is always striving to get better, but he’s already gotten so strong. It’s amazing how much potential he has, he just needs to realize that.” Shoto ranted. Running his hand through his multicolored hair. He couldn’t read the look on Touyas face from this angle, but he could definitely make out the slight upturn in his lips and the slight huff of laughter that escaped from his brothers mouth.

“Sounds like this guy is pretty great. But, he doesn’t sound like any of the little bitches I’ve met before in your class.” “Don’t call them that. And, that’s because you haven’t met him. And, I swear to god Touya if you go seek him out purposely and do the whole ‘older brother interrogation’ thing I’m never visiting you again.” Shoto growled in a low, warning tone. Touya raised his hands up in a surrendering sort of gesture. Shaking his head in response as he snorted.

“Calm down, I wasn’t planning on it. I’m definitely not risking getting caught right now.” Touya said in response to Shoto getting defensive. To which the younger of the two seemed to relax a bit more, quieting down and focusing his gaze onto the ground. He could practically feel Touyas icy turquoise eyes staring a hole into him, almost as if he was studying him. To which Shoto merely raised his eyebrow in response, giving his older brother a questioning look. That caused Touya to chuckle a bit, and quickly gaze back upon the road instead of at Shoto. “All I’m saying is, you sound really sure about this guy. If you really do feel that way about it, then you should do something about it.” “But-“ “Don’t give me the ‘I don’t know how to talk to people excuse’. If I can get a boyfriend of all people, so can you.” Touya said, and for once in his life, Shoto heard absolutely no hesitation in his voice. He was serious about this. And, as Shoto looked over to see his brother, he was met with Touya staring right back at him, a small smile and a sincere look in his eyes. Only having to receive a small nod from Touya, Shoto felt the corners of his lips quirk upwards.

“Fine, maybe I will.”

#bnha #dabihawks #todokami #todoroki shōto #dabi is a todoroki #todoroki brothers #touya todoroki

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years

Text

A Misplaced Imbalance of Fear

Ao3, MasterPost

Relationships: Romantic Dukexiety, implied/minor Moceit (platonic or romantic)

From the power of my Art and my Shitposts comes This Fanfiction!!!

Warnings: Panic Attacks, Lots of Cursing, descriptions of gore (horror movies, it gets decently explicit so beware that), mild body horror (Remus is here and he Does Things Like That), Heavy Roman angst for a hot minute in the middle, making out (continuing my theme of remus-centric fics getting more ;3). They do some makeup and drink tea, baby. Mentions of picking one’s skin as an Anxious habit, and also ticking. Also stimming!!! nd sides 4 life bb. Also, a very brief alcohol mention (it’s soup).

Word Count: 6,553

God Fucking Fuck, Virgil was going to have a self-care day even if it killed him dead. Everybody else could do whatever overdramatic fuckery they wanted when they were topside, but he was all set down there in the Mindpalace, thank you very much.

Luckily, mercifully, thankfully, the rest of the sides all seemed keen to let Virgil have his space anyway. There wasn’t a thing stopping him from relaxing.

Well, except for himself, of course.

A thrum of condensed stress and fear tugged at Virgil’s abdomen, bubbling its way over his edges. It was equally his own and the others’, probably due to whatever conversation they were caught up in in the external world. He would not relent to the worry, nor was he summoned to help with the situation, but his body refused to stop shaking. Perched on the top of the couch, frantically clicking the buttons on a fidget cube, Virgil tried to watch the gore playing on the TV in a tired effort to calm his nerves.

Horror movies… helped. They were something for his brain to chew on for a while- their over-the-top and ridiculous plots, the obnoxious characters that almost always deserve what’s coming to them, the attention-attaining action- it was all a recipe for Distraction. But they weren’t working by that point, no matter how badly Virgil wanted them to.

And then- possibly because the universe loved to spite Virgil and Virgil specifically- a walking, talking headache flung himself into the common room about as elegantly as a wolfhound with rabies.

“Heyyyy,” Remus crowed as he sprawled himself out on the couch. Anxiety curled his legs closer under his body, unresponsive- he knew full well that any reaction would just be an invitation for trouble from the obnoxious trait. He’d remember what Logan taught them: don’t engage, just brush it all off.

Unfortunately, Remus seemed to be in a stubborn mood.

“Whatcha watching?”

“Movie,” Virgil grumbled.

“What movie?”

He eyed the side laying out on the couch below him, narrowing his gaze as threateningly as he could manage. He spat the words through gritted teeth and made it clear he was not having this today.

“It’s called Terrifier.”

Remus perked up at that, and oh God, if he was interested then he’d never go the fuck away.

“What’s it about?”

There wasn’t much Virgil could do but answer in as clipped a tone as he could; things hadn’t gotten too bad, too uncomfortable, yet. Maybe he could redirect Remus’ attention, if he was just boring and unresponsive enough?

“Just a cliche creepy clown flick. Not much to it.”

“Is it gory?”

Virgil made a vaguely affirmative sound in his throat, gesturing to the screen. In truth, the movie’s impeccable special effects with gore was its main appeal, as the acting and plot was kinda atrocious. Violence was the exact reason he’d chosen to watch this. But he knew saying that wouldn’t help his chances of shaking off Intrusive Thoughts.

Remus looked ready to spout off something explicit, but he went dead quiet as his eyes fell on the scene on the television. Virgil was grateful for small mercies.

It was exactly the kind of thing that the creative trait would watch, after all; a woman getting sawed in half, lengthwise, starting from the- er, the wrong end. Under circumstances of a more typical anxious flare-up, the scene really could have been one of those ‘helpful distractions’.

These were not normal circumstances.Yeah, this was one of those ‘too passive’ cases, but Virgil didn’t exactly have the energy for anything ‘active’. So, he stubbornly glared at the TV and pretended that his solution was working, because he had no idea what else to do. Perfect plan.

Preoccupied as he was with his internal issues, he very nearly managed to forget about Remus. Until-

“Holy fuck, this is gorgeous, you watch stuff like this?!” The Duke’s eyes were bright, but not with his usual hysteria. They were wide with genuine excitement, shiny and happy. It was- uncanny, that’s probably the word Virgil was looking for. He curled closer in on himself.

“Shouldn’t be that surprising, dude. ‘Scary’ is kind of my thing.”

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen this one,” the creative side was once again completely enamored by the television screen, “Don’t blood and guts and cool things like that freak you out? They always seem to do the trick when I try to mess with you!”

“It’s different. The violence in movies, it- it calms me down, I guess. Cause it’s like, I don’t know, detached from reality?”

There was a pause that had Virgil hoping, naively, that Remus had grown bored at his spiel. But he wasn’t moving, he was just staring, gaze switching contemplatively from the screen to Virgil a few times over.

“It doesn’t look like that. If you were any more tense, all your tendons would be snapping like badly-tuned violin strings!”

“Yeah, no shit,” Virgil pressed his back against the wall and shut his eyes tight. He could still hear- no, feel- Patton and Roman and Thomas arguing, snapping at each other back and forth as the situation escalated.

“Is this about whatever the others are doing? Why don’t you just stop listening to their shitty arguments?”

A harsh laugh escaped Virgil at that, dragging him back down to earth so he could blink his eyes open, glaring at the facet lying beneath him.

“I can’t just stop, that’s not how I work. I need to keep an ear on them. Who knows what could happen if I didn’t?”

“Well, why don’t you just go talk to them?”

If he wasn’t already frustrated beyond belief, that would’ve fuckin’ done it for him.

“I don’t think I’d be much help. Not right now.”

“Why not?” Remus looked halfway between genuinely curious and mischievous, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better view of Anxiety.

“Seriously? Things aren’t exactly, like- normal between all of us.”

“What is normal?”

Virgil opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came through. As much as it sounded like an offhanded, edgy 13-year-old atheist kind of remark, it was a decent point. Virgil had thought that there was something of a status quo forming between himself and the ‘light sides’, but how long had that even lasted for? Especially compared to the rest of his life? Everything was changing all the time. Was there anything to rely on, or was it just Virgil’s own wishful thinking for what their lives could be? After all, even in ‘peaceful times’, there had been plenty of in-fighting and disagreements and horrible uncomfortable conversations and harsh words and-

“Oh, shut that brain up,” Remus’ sharp voice pulled Virgil from his thoughts, “I know what you meant ‘normal’. You meant the six months when you got to forget about us Scary Monsters, and, DUH! It was probably way simpler for all you diet-soda-no-sugar sluts back then, but that doesn’t mean it was better.”

“Yeah, you would think that things are better now, wouldn’t you?”

Remus fixed Virgil with an unsettling sort of grimace, making the other squirm. It wasn’t the first time he’d done so by any means.

“I dunno, but what I do know is that things are getting better. They’ll be the best they could be, soon.”

Despite himself, Virgil laughed. It was a faltering, anxious sound, revealing the true fear behind the taunting gesture.

“Really? With everybody at each other’s throats all the time?”

“While that does sound fun,” Remus sat up fully, twisting around to look directly up at Virgil, “I mean after that. After we’re all accepted. It’s inevitable- Inevitable, Anxious Lil’ Barista,” Remus accompanied the referential nickname with a wink.

Virgil stared at him like he was crazy (well- like- crazier than usual, he guessed?). Remus just threw his head back and laughed before spinning his neck one-hundred and eighty degrees to face the TV while he explained.

“Point is, it’s painfully obvious that everything will sort itself out. It has to, or else the only other option is that Thomas is gonna drive himself insane by trying to suppress parts of himself and end up clawing his own brain out. One of those two things!”

While colorfully phrased, the certainty with which Remus delivered his point had Virgil taken aback. There was no way that Remus could possibly know that, but- in a backwards way it was comforting, how sure he sounded. He didn’t lie, not ever.

Virgil had never thought that Remus would settle for anything less than going out of his way to make others’ lives a hell. But maybe that antagonism wasn’t what exactly motivated the trait’s actions. Maybe it was just an unintentional side effect, akin to what Logan had said when Remus first revealed himself.

The moment of reprieve was over as soon as it began.

“Fuck! He just cut off her tits and wore ‘em, huh?”

Virgil looked up and, to be fair, that was exactly what had happened on screen. Like he said, this movie wasn’t exactly poetic cinema, but it certainly was something.

He scooted along the top of the couch, moving just a few feet before dropping down to sit properly beside Remus.

“3/10 drag look at best, really,” Virgil muttered, mostly to himself. He jumped when Remus shrieked with laughter at it, looking absolutely delighted.

“I didn’t know you made jokes like that, VeeVee!”

Virgil shrugged noncommittally, focusing on the screen and not the facet beside him. Remus’ giggling was loud and distracting, but it wasn’t… unpleasant, unlike his typical villain-cackle was.

Once Remus had settled down (as much as somebody like him could, anyway), he, too, focused on watching. The quiet was uncomfortable, but it didn’t stretch on for long. There was always something in the movie that The Duke felt the need to comment upon extensively, elaborating and giving details on the gore. Virgil found himself listening to the rants silently, almost enjoying the disruption. It certainly gave his overactive mind something to play around with.

“-skin doesn’t slice as easy as that, trust me-”

Aaaand there it was. Virgil winced, trying very hard not to show that the words had struck a nerve. He liked horror, gore, all that, sure, but there were just some specific things- squicks, you could call them. Remus would obviously use that to his advantage, so the only option was to try very hard to zone out and not look like he was disturbed.

“But even then- Hey, why are you making that face?”

Mission failed.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Remus shifted closer- invasively closer, his gaze studying.

“You were calming down earlier, what's with the scrunch-nose?”

Virgil stared at his hands, chipping away his black nail polish. Remus was nearly as good at reading lies as Janus, and twice as hard to get rid of.

“It's just- skin, slicing, that stuff just-” he ticked, head spasming sideways briefly at even the thought of that kind of pain.

“Oh,” Remus said plainly, not even a hint of malice or mischief in his tone as he leaned back into his own spot, “Why didn't you just say so? Well, that last exploding head kill is way more interesting anyway, did you see that?”

That was… it? No taunting, no tormenting, he just changed the topic, like that?

Remus, continuing to be weirdly perceptive, scoffed as though he was reading Virgil’s mind.

“What? Just because I like screwing with you prudes sometimes doesn't mean I want to give you a panic attack. Where's the fun in that?”

Anxiety nodded mutely, bewildered. Remus seemed appeased by that and quickly resumed his running commentary.

And if Virgil eventually decided to take part in the discussion, well, it wasn’t a big deal anyway. Just some polite conversation about bodily mutilation.

The television darkened as the screen was washed by credits, filling the space where the disfigured face of the main character had been mere moments prior, the result of a pretty predictable twist ending. Virgil stood, arching his back up in a stretch. His arms raised higher, one joint or another crackling at the motion. Fuck, he was sore. How long had he been sitting still?

Remus hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch. He tapped his claws along the remote, exiting to the homescreen and looking expectantly at Virgil.

“You don't wanna watch anything else?” He asked abruptly, drawing a confused glance from his companion, “This is fun- and they're still arguing up there, so it kinda makes sense to stay, it’s really the best solution if you-”

Virgil huffed a laugh at the rambling. It sounded like some shit he’d say, for crying out loud.

“Dude, chill, I was just gonna make some tea before putting on another movie,” the clear relief that ran across Remus' face- quickly replaced by a wide grin- wasn't anything shy of… sweet. Virgil was sure this day couldn't get any fucking weirder, if he was finding anything endearing about the walking talking dirty joke before him. “Uh, you want anything? Since you're gonna stick around, and all.”

Remus jumped up, following Virgil into the MindPalace’s small kitchen happily. In one smooth motion, he swung up onto the counter and slid down it, seating himself almost on top of the stove.

“No hot leaf soup for me, thanks, but I will take one of those mugs!”

Virgil raised a brow, staring the creative trait down before shrugging. He passed him one of the mugs, a generic and patternless one- so that the other sides probably wouldn't notice its absence. He busied himself by setting up the kettle, trying not to wince at the loud wet crunch that resulted when Remus took a bite of his snack.

“Hey,” Remus said around a mouthful of ceramic chunks, “I know just the movie we should watch next.”

Virgil shifted around the various tea boxes littering the cabinets, searching for something with a kick. He hazarded a glance to Remus, immediately regretting the decision when he saw the blood dribbling down his chin from the cuts marring his lips. Anxiety cringed, turning his head back and grabbing for the first brightly-colored box he saw. It took him a moment to respond.

“Okay… what is it?”

“It's awful- I mean, really, the acting is unbearable and it’s fucking insane- but it's funny. You like making fun of stuff, right? It's like that, but there's still a ton of agonizing death, which is always a fun bonus.”

“What's it about?” Virgil was hesitantly intrigued, his gaze flicking up from the steadily heating kettle. He wasn't exactly keen on staring down the gory scene of Remus’ mouth, so he settled his focus on the trait’s eyeball brooch.

“Uhn-uhn! No spoilers, this is one you have to see for yourself. It's funnier that way.”

Virgil made a noncommittal sound, tapping his nails against the counters.

“Nothing too bad happens- not that you can't handle, anyway. No slicing and not many jumpscares.”

He resisted the urge to snap 'how do you know what I can’t handle?' because Remus actively trying to reassure him was. Something. Something that he appreciated, maybe, a little.

“Okay, fine. I didn't have anything else in mind. A ‘So-Bad-It’s-Good’ thing sounds alright.”

The obnoxious gnawing of Remus destroying what was left of his cup suddenly ceased, replaced by a stunned silence. Virgil finally met his eyes (finding that the lacerations around Remus’ mouth were already healing themselves, as if they'd never existed).

“You’re taking my suggestion?”

Virgil cleared his throat, finding himself unable to break the intense eye-contact now that it had been established.

“It's not a big deal or anything, man. Just a movie.”

Remus nodded enthusiastically, a grin splitting his face ear-to-ear. Very literally. The expression was so unnatural and cartoonish on a human(ish) face, that Virgil couldn't help but be startled into laughter. Remus looked even more delighted at that reaction, leaning forward over the stove. At that point, Virgil very much couldn't suppress the noises, snorts bubbling up from his throat against his will.

“You look-” another bout of chuckling, “-you look ridiculous, Remus.”

“Aw, thank you! I was going for manic, but I'll settle for that, too.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, hunching in on himself to get his breathing back to normal.

With no warning, Remus lifted himself up onto his knees and craned his body around the vigilant trait, snatching the kettle from the stove and flipping the dial to ‘off’. Instinctively, Anxiety recoiled from the proximity. The tension fell away when he saw that the other was simply pouring the hot water into Virgil’s mug for him.

“Dude, it wasn't whistling yet?”

“I know; it was hissing like it was about to start. You're boring and don't like loud noises, especially when you’re all on edge like this, so,” he set the kettle back down, passing the warm mug to Virgil.

Virgil stared at him, then at the drink in his hand, then back up at the Duke. He was, for what felt like the millionth time that day, unsure of how to react.

He… really hadn't thought that Remus would pick up on stuff like that. He should probably start getting used to that, maybe.

“I'm-” Virgil dragged his finger up and down the handle of his mug, “I'm not that on edge anymore, actually.”

The look that Remus sent him was indecipherable.

“C’mon, I’ll queue up that flick I told you about.”

“Yeah,” Virgil let out a deep breath, one he hadn't even known he'd been holding, “Yeah, okay.”

The floor was bubbling, popping, blistering with red fury. It was lava, sending bright flaming sparks in all directions. Thankfully for Remus and Virgil, sitting close together on the couch and viciously mocking cabin fever, the vicious rage was exclusive to one small circle near the staircase.

Virgil, who had been happily tearing apart the leading guy’s acting, cut himself off abruptly.

“Shit- wait- shit.”

Remus shook himself out of his raucous laughter, looking up in confusion. His eyes finally settled on the crimson patch of carpet, a look of realization crossing them. His voice turned much quieter than what fit him.

“Oh, fuck.”

It was like a volcanic eruption localized entirely within the living room, fire blazing in a tall column. From the emotional display, Roman rose up, face nearly as red as his method of transportation.

There was that brief moment, right when a stressful situation appeared, of antithetical serenity. Virgil felt his muscles slacken in shock, his long-empty mug falling from his hands and landing on the carpet with a dull thud. A rush of calmness hollowed out his chest, lingering for just a few seconds before being replaced by panic. Tension returned to his limbs mere moments after that, like it was pulling him taut.

Roman wasn't even looking at them- in fact, he hadn't seemed to notice his brother or best friend at all. The fire fell back down, leaving a charred patch of carpet that would likely take a long time to repair itself. The passionate trait growled, a sound that bordered on a scream as he clawed his hands down his face. He stamped his boot sharply against the ground, igniting another small fire with the impact.

“Fuck!” He cried, ever oblivious to his audience. With a hasty wave, the flames flickered and disappeared. Roman glared down at the blackened spot where it had been, winding his arms tightly around himself. He took a few shaky breaths, but if anything he only looked worse off for it.

“Fuck,” this time spoken quieter, but with no less vitriol. An immaculately-manicured hand raised itself to cover his mouth, tightening around his face desperately as tears slipped from his eyes down his fingers. He turned on his heel and took the stairs two at a time.

In his wake, as the television had been paused, the only thing that Virgil could hear was buzzing in his skull.

What had happened? What was happening, currently?! Things had gone so wrong and it was all because of Virgil’s negligence- what bad things could have been prevented if he had just been there? Or- or even just listening in! When had he even stopped listening? He was supposed to protect them but he just gave up, just because he ‘couldn't handle it’, and now something was Wrong with Roman and he couldn't even focus on listening to them all now, not like this. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t hear or see anything at all.

A rough, calloused hand wrapped around his wrist. Virgil's shallow breath staggered even more at the feeling, the warbly noise of speech failing to meet his ears. His eyes were closed tight, he realized, stinging with emotion behind his eyelids.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Four seconds, four strikingly gentle presses against the vein of Virgil’s wrist. If it weren't for the slight edge of a claw, he could've confused the motion for one of Patton’s.

The four taps were followed by a brief pause, then a steady round of seven taps. Another pause, and then eight. As Virgil focused, as much as he could anyway, on the presses, the screaming of his mind very gradually abated. First, he pried his eyes open, staring down at the hand around his arm. Watching the tapping, feeling it, was grounding enough for his hearing to return in time. Virgil could hear Remus beside him, breathing deeply as a guide, and copying the exercise became that much easier. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

Remus didn't stop when Virgil did it properly one time over, when he was still shaking and teary. He didn't speak up even when the well behind Anxiety's eyes ran dry, after what had to be a dozen rounds of even breaths. It was only when Virgil finally, hesitantly slipped his wrist out of the other's grasp on his own terms that Remus made any sounds.

“Do you remember when you taught me to do makeup? Late teens, early twenties, around then?”

Talk about a topic shift. Virgil glanced up in confusion.

“I guess so? Wasn't that, like, the only time that we hung out and actually got along?” They’d never exactly been close, Virgil had made sure of that. It was, in retrospect, a regrettable decision on his part.

“Yeah. I was so bad at it, remember?”

“Hell yes, I remember,” Virgil felt a tiny smirk tug his lips at the memory, “You literally never sat still. You were and are the most impatient person I've ever met.”

“I’ve gotten a lot better, Vee.”

Virgil glanced at the bruise-like eyeshadow circling the Duke's eyes, but refrained from saying anything. Knowing him (kind of knowing him? Starting to know him better now? Whatever.) it was most definitely intentionally off-putting, and probably not a good way to judge his actual ability.

“But I’ve seen how you do it, when you really, really try; I think you're still better than me with it, ju-u-ust barely.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Virgil wasn't entirely sure where this was going, but he couldn't find the soft excitement in Remus’ eyes anything other than enticing. The creative side laughed, flapping his hand.

“It would be fun if you did it for me again! Just like old times, ey?”

Virgil stared at him, considering him carefully.

“You want me to do your makeup?”

“Yes!” Remus leaned forward with his confirmation, but for once that didn't involve violating Virgil’s post-panic attack bubble, “It'll give you something to do with your hands other than peeling back all your skin, at the very least.”

Oh, right. Virgil not-so-subtly lifted his nails from his palms, wincing at the irritated red spots coloring his hands.

Truth be told, the idea wasn't… unappealing. It was an activity well between mindless and active, repetitive and artistic. Plus, he didn't exactly love being alone after attacks, and if anything Remus would be lively company. Company that he sort of, maybe, possibly was looking forward to spending the rest of the day with anyway, unfortunate events notwithstanding.

“Yeah, alright, if you're sure you want-”

“Great! Wait right there, bee-arh-bee,” before the words were even fully out of his mouth, Remus went limp and fell sideways off of the couch, falling right through the floor.

In his absence, there was a void where his noise had been. Virgil stared at the paused movie scene, picking apart the little details of the frame just to have something to do. His mind drifted off to the state that Roman had been in when he entered. The sight of his friend so furious burned itself on the backs of Virgil’s eyelids. He knew that the anxiety wasn't all his own, either; he could feel it like waves from the other side of the MindPalace, the origin point clearly belonging to Roman.

He should check on him, shouldn't he? Or would that make it worse? Virgil certainly didn't feel like he was in any state to help. But then there was Patton to consider- something must have happened up there. Should he look for him, too?

There was a whoosh.

“I leave you alone for five seconds and you get right back to thinking!” Remus strode across the room, flopping right back onto the couch. Held in his arms was an enormous multi-pocketed bag, items clattering around within at every jostle their owner made.

“Overthinking is literally my whole job, man, this shouldn't surprise you,” Virgil shrugged, trying not to sound as relieved as he felt.

Remus simply rolled his eyes and dropped the makeup case onto Virgil's lap, sitting criss-cross parallel to him, their knees brushing slightly.

Virgil hesitated for a moment, scanning Remus' face, but all the other did was smile and blink (one eye at a time).

Virgil zipped open the bag, rifling through and finding an overwhelming array of gaudy colors and odd products.

“Was there, like, a 'look' that you want to go for?”

Remus shrugged.

“Just go for it! I’m a blank canvas. The worse, the better.”

Virgil chuckled, picking out a few items to fit a theme he was coming up with and getting right to work.

Though it had been years since they’d last spent time together, it wasn’t awkward. In fact, it felt more comfortable than it had back then.

Remus managed to sit almost perfectly still, chattering the entire time that Virgil worked. Yet again his voice served as something like white-noise, wherein Anxiety only had to contribute whenever he chose. Remus only quieted when Virgil had to hold his face, tipping his head back to properly apply inky-black lipstick. And then, he remained silent for a moment, as they surveyed each other.

Virgil had cleared his throat, warmth prickling at his ears, and the ceaseless rambling resumed after that.

In what felt like hours and no time at all, Virgil was finally satisfied with his work.

“Alright, you're all done,” he capped the bottle of mascara in his hand, rifling through Remus' bag for a mirror, “Wanna see?”

Just as he felt the unmistakable cool surface of glass on his fingertips, Remus grabbed his wrist in both hands.

“What-?”

“Not so fast! Now it's my turn,” he announced, his zealous eyes even more prominent on his face thanks to the thick wings of eyeliner around them.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Virgil looked from the assortment of garish colors that he'd mostly stayed away from in the makeup case, and then back up at the Duke.

“Usually: yes. But I am dead serious right now, Vee.”

Remus looked pleading, legitimately pouting.

Virgil huffed. The side had gone out of his way to help him, when he really didn't have to, so…

“You're not going to just use this as an excuse to draw all over my face, are you?”

“I mean, no promises that I'll be able to restrain myself, but! Gimme a chance anyway, I can make you even hotter than you already are! Plus, we'll match then.”

“... Fine. Just- nothing too crazy, alright?”

“Again, no promises.”

Virgil groaned, but he still passed the bag to Remus.

“Holy shit...”

Remus leaned over the basin of the bathroom sink, drumming his hands on the counter excitedly. He was starry-eyed as he observed the dark, dramatic colors covering his face: metallic emerald-green eyeshadow, excessively long lashes, and winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut a bitch. His lips were black as void, but shimmered like glitter. Everything about the look was dangerous, confrontational, and grim.

“This is more out there than I’d usually wear, but. Yeah, holy shit.”

Virgil's expression, despite his best efforts, was equally awed as he peered into the mirror. The color around his eyes was mismatched; a lime to moss green gradient over his purple eye, lavender to royal violet over his green one- both colors contrasted by smudged black eyeliner under his eye. His signature Racoon Look had been maintained in that aspect, but it was even more exaggerated. In addition to that, Remus had taken to drawing various little symbols along Virgil's cheekbones, including things like upside-down crosses. Finally, there was the fuchsia lip-gloss, stark against Virgil’s paler-than-normal foundation.

“It’s okay, I guess,” Virgil breathed reverently.

“I love it!” Remus crowed, clambering onto the counter just to get a better look at himself. Somehow, he'd already managed to smudge the hell out of his eyeshadow, but it kinda… worked for him, if Virgil was being honest.

“Vee, we have got to do this more often!”

Virgil looked from his reflection to Remus', startled in a way he didn't entirely understand. The intrusive facet met his gaze through the mirror, the smile sliding off his face when Virgil didn’t respond to him.

“Right, Raggedy-Anx? It doesn't have to be this, specifically, if you really don't want to. We could just watch movies together, that's fine. Or we could do anything at all! Right?”

Virgil was still silent, lost in his mind. Remus fell from a kneeling position to sitting with his legs hanging off the counter, turning his back to the mirror.

“Was this a one-time thing? That's alright, too, if you just needed help calming down. I'm not as good as the others, I know, but if they're ever too busy again, you'll think of me when you need help, at least. Right?”

Finally, Virgil snapped out of his daze when he heard the panicked edge to Remus’ voice, feeling his anxiety as Virgil noticed the wild look that had completely erased his giddiness. It was a look that Virgil had seen plenty of times before, when Remus had been ignored far too long and was right about to start ripping things to shreds for some scraps of attention. Only then did Virgil fully recognize what the expression actually meant; the deep, terrified need that swirled behind the look, unsure of how to ask for what it really wanted after so many denials of that very want.

“Shit, sorry,” Virgil moved to stand in front of him, eye-level to Remus even though he was elevated by the counter, “Hey, it's alright, Re, everything's fine.”

Remus was still trying very determinedly to smile.

“I know! Hell, I’m not the anxious one, I'm the one that makes people anxious,” his laugh sounded like it came from a throat full of broken glass, “I just- I liked this, ya know?”

“I know,” Virgil leaned forward, coaxing Remus' arms away from where he'd wrapped them around himself, “I like this, too.”

Remus let Virgil hold onto him, surprised into something like obedience.

“You? What?”

“I like this,” it wasn't as though Virgil was expecting to hug Remus, but it seemed to have happened on its own as they moved. It was leagues nicer than he could have imagined, despite the smell. “I like you…-r company.”

“That's weird,” Remus' legs curled around Virgil’s waist. Virgil rested his hands on Remus’ hips. He listened as the creative trait's breathing evened out, vaguely aware that the situation was similar to the one just an hour or so before. Except, the roles had been reversed, of course.

“I missed you. I know I never told you, but I missed you.”

Virgil felt guilt, hot and molten, dripping down his throat. He couldn't lie; he hadn't missed Remus when he left. But now he did, in a roundabout sort of way. He missed what could have been, all of the possible understanding and friendship and likely more that he could have had for so long with Remus- all of which he'd let slip by for years. Due to just writing the artist off as disgusting, or unnecessary.

And perhaps some of that misunderstanding was Remus' fault as well, but Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to hold it against him.

“You don't have to anymore. Miss me, I mean. I'm- fuck, I'm so sorry.”

“Me too,” Remus said, pulling back to settle Virgil with a happy-yet-tearfilled gaze.

“Aw, hey,” he tightened his grip at Remus' hips, smirking, “You're gonna fuck up all my hard work on that eyeliner, Re.”

Remus laughed, loud and shrieky and him, smiling unnaturally and brilliantly wide once again. Virgil's breath caught in his throat- not for the first time that day, he found himself trapped up in that wild, energetic face.

Before Virgil was entirely aware of what he was doing, he was leaning forward, pulling Remus in by the waist. When the cackling finally stopped short, so did he, both much too far and far too close to the Duke.

He didn't have the chance to explain himself, or apologize, or anything, because soon enough understanding flashed in Remus' eyes.

“Oh, oh yes, oh hell fucking yes.”

Remus didn’t wait a second longer before closing the distance and smashing his lips against Virgil’s. A startled sound bubbled up in his throat, dying quickly as he acclimated to what was happening. Just as he did, he was reciprocating the kiss.

Their teeth clashed together uncomfortably, and Virgil was hyper-aware of the threat both his own and Remus’ fangs posed if they weren’t careful, making it far from the perfect first kiss. But he wouldn’t have wanted that anyway, nor would he have expected it. It was, somehow, better.

Remus' hand dragged down Virgil's back, his fingers fitting onto the notches of the facet’s spine. Virgil shivered, pressing himself flush against the counter (and Remus) and digging his thumbs into the trait’s hips. The motion earned him a beautiful whine from the other as the kiss deepened, growing less awkward and more heated by the second.

Virgil was unaware of how much time was passing, but when they finally parted, both were short of breath and significantly disheveled. Remus had his back pressed up against the mirror, his hair even fuzzier than its usual state, expression dazed and face flushed. From what Virgil could make out in his own reflection, he wasn't much better off.

Just as soon as they'd separated, Remus' hand was on his face, his thumb dragging just under Anxiety's lip.

“You fucked up your lipstick,” he teased.

“So did you,” Virgil answered with a smirk, leaning into the touch.

“I guess we'll have to fix it later.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Remus wriggled himself out of his pinned position, twisting around Virgil. He managed to situate himself and drop down from the bathroom counter, his manner suggestive, “Because all I wanna do right now is finish watching Cabin Fever with my new goth boyfriend and makeout during the boring parts.”

“Boyfriend?” Virgil ignored the jolt of warmth he felt at that, determined to stay nonchalant as he (subtly (not subtly)) slipped his hand into Remus’.

“You disagree?”

Virgil pretended to think it over, leading them to the door and taking his time to click it open.

“Nah, I don’t disagree,” he said finally, “I think I like the sound of that, actuall- yyyy.”

Virgil stopped short in the open doorway, voice dragging out in his shock. Behind him, he could feel Remus trying to crane around him to see what was happening, but Virgil didn’t move to accommodate him. Well, more accurately, he felt like he couldn’t really move at all, too busy parsing out the scene in front of him.

In the corner of the sectional- sharing a cushion- Janus and Patton sat, the former holding aloft a glass of wine, the latter snacking on a muffin. They sat with their legs tangled together, and had seemed to be engrossed with each other before the interruption. Both had paused mid-conversation to gawk in Virgil's direction, twin deer-in-headlights expressions on their faces.

“What-” Virgil began, bewildered.

“The fuck?” Remus finished, pushing his way out of the bathroom.

Janus struggled to sit up into a more dignified position and take the reigns of the conversation. It didn't take him long to overcome his surprise at the interruption, his surveying gaze sweeping over the other two Dark Sides contemplatively. The look made Virgil’s skin crawl.

“You know, we- well, we could ask you two-” he gestured at their interlocked hands, “-just the same question, couldn't we?”

For a moment, there was silence. Virgil looked from Patton to Janus. Janus looked from Virgil to Remus. Patton looked at the wall like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Remus looked at everyone and broke the silence.

“You didn't see us,” he announced, sidestepping his way to the staircase and dragging Virgil along with him, “And we didn't see you.”

Janus squinted, tipped his head, and nodded conspiratorially.

“Deal.”

With that little grant, Virgil and Remus darted up the stairs and into the sanctuary of the dimly lit hallway as quickly as they could. Luckily for them, Roman was probably either in a deep depression sleep or far into the imagination by now, and Logan Did Not Engage with Interpersonal Drama if he could help it.

There was a second for appreciating the absurdity of the situation (and catching their breath), before either spoke to each other.

“I’ve got a huge flat screen,” Remus piped up at last, jerking his thumb in the direction of his room.

“Any of us can conjure literally anything we want at any time, so I'm not sure what's impressive about that.”

Remus scowled, albeit playfully.

“Hush! Come watch someone slowly be consumed by a parasite with me!”

Virgil rolled his eyes and let Remus drag him off, his complaints accompanied by absolutely no efforts to avoid the situation.

Things were weird, there was no denying that. Maybe they'd end up being that way for a while yet, and Virgil knew he had a lot of news to catch up on, but he found that thoughts like that were way back in his mind. Whatever happened, he reasoned, he would still have this comfort. The arms of someone he was finally coming to know wrapped tight around him, playing up his back, a mouth trailing kisses on his neck as he half-watched horror films. Yes, things would be difficult with the others, but it was secondary.

There was someone on his side now. Solidly, unarguably there for him. With him. And that made it all feel a little bit easier.

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thedramaclubs · 3 years

Text

Changing lives (reprise)

Summery: Roman and Remus get the rest of the reviews and it was horrible that it closed their show. They soon meet one of their old friends and Remus’s husband meets them and soon they find something on Twitter to change their lives

Ships: Logicality, Prinxiety, demus/dukeceit

When their singing

Remus-green

Roman-red

Janus-orange

C!thomas-pink

All-purple

“The rest of the reviews are in! New York post, associated press, New York times” exclaimed Joan with ther phone in the air everyone started to get excited and looked on their phones as Roman and Remus are about to listen to how great their musical is........or so they thought.

Everyone’s faces changed to a sad and disappointed look and started leaving

“What? What’s happening?” said Roman as he watch everyone look at him and his brother in sadness.

“This is not a review anyone wants when you have shitty advance sales. This is gonna close us” said Joan

Roman gasp and Remus was shocked “What didn’t they like was it the hip hop?”

“Yeah but not that”

“For gods sake sakes Joan read it.” The twins sat down as Joan read the horrible reviews.

“Ok here’s the highlights, “Remus Allen’s FDR might just be the most insulting misguided, offensive, and laughable performance that this reviewer has ever had the squirming misfortune to endure. Emphasis on the insulting because he try to make him self look like that he was trying to give me intrusive thoughts about FDR.”

“That’s how I normally look what the hell?!?!”

“I mean it’s not so bad” said Roman as he played with his dress

“DO HIM ALREADY!!” “What I’m just saying.”

“Watching Romans Eleanor Roosevelt, corking out a heavy-handed message of activism, is like paying an aging drag queen to shove a syurp-soaked American flag down my throat. And also Eleanor should have been played by a women”

Roman was on the verge of tears “Thats not criticism that’s a personal attack.” His voice cracked and Remus hugged him as he shed a tear

“If your considering buying a ticket to the show do yourself a favor. By a few feet of good heavy rope instead and then go hang yourself”

“Holy fuck, oh god, poopy. Was the show that bad?”

“It’s not the show it’s you two. Your just not likeable.”

“What?” They said simultaneously

“Nobody likes a narcissist.” They sat in silence over what they just heard. “Leave it to me I’ll go and try to change the narrative once again” Joan then left the twins alone in the bullding

“I hate this world” “this just hurts my heart, Where did everybody go?”

They talked over each other as the walk to the bar to find a man in a pink suit. “What can I get ya?” said the man “Yola mezcal blackberry smash” said the twins at the same time. “My condolences Roman. But remember you do have friends” said the man making their drinks.”

“Thank you. Who are you?”

“Thomas Sanders.......we’ve done five shows together.”

“Ugh Thomas went to Juilliard and won’t shut up about.” Whispered Remus as he told Roman “Oh right Thomas. Thomas haha....... why are you dressed like waiter?” I’m in between gigs at the moment. Honestly Roman I feel adrift as i did in my days before Juilliard” Remus proceed to chug a drink that was on the table as Thomas continued to talk about Juilliard and the two were just over it.

“Still I have played hamlet and I’m still known as that guy from the beloved early aughts sitcom “Talk to the hand” I question everything about my existence” As he continues to rant about the past what they didn’t notice as a man in a golden sequiny dress with a black hat and a yellow ribbon tied on it with long golden brown hair walking their way

“Hey guys!”

Roman and Remus turned around to see Janus Allen, Remus’s husband

“Jannie!!!” Remus picked up Janus and spun him around and soon dipped him into a kiss which turn into a make out session. “Ahem I know you two lovebirds haven’t seen each other all day but can it wait we’re still here ya know.” They both looked at Roman and giggle a little from embarrassment “Sorry your show closed on opening night again. Welcome to the world of the unemployed,hit me up next.”

“I thought you were in Chicago?” asked Remus “I totally didn’t quit just now 20 years in the chorus and still wouldn’t let me play Roxie Hart and now their letting Tina Louise play her” “That bitch is still alive” said Remus as he chugs another drink

“We’re wasting our lives.” Said Roman as they are all slightly drunk “Ok I refuse to give up we’re still celebrities we still have power.” “Yeah well The Times casted you out” said Thomas as he poured another drink “Yep they wrote you off as aging narcissist and I’m only allowed to call Remus that.” “I still don’t understand what’s wrong with that.” Said Roman as he drinks even more. “You know what we will become celebrity arsonist.” “Babe it’s call celebrity activist we are not burning down another building like last time.” “Ok everyone think of causes.”

“Poverty”

“World hunger”

“Too big we need something we can handle”

“Let’s see whats trending” said Janus “Trump, trump, trump, ooo how about this boy he’s all over Twitter. His names Patton Heart. He’s from edgewater, Indiana. He’s gay. He wanted to take his boyfriend to the highschool prom and the pta went apeshit and canceled it.”

We are now in Edgewater, Indiana and Patton Heart is watching the head of the pta, Mrs Green being interviewed. “We have very strict rules for prom. Young ladies must wear non-revealing dresses. Young men must wear suits or tuxes. And if a student chooses to bring a date it must be of the opposite sex” “Can’t you just ban this student?” “Well we’ve been advised that there may be some legal repercussions if we prevent this boy from attending so although it breaks my heart we have no choice to cancel prom.” We move to Mr Virgil Hawkins the principal “The first thing I’m going to do is contact the state attourney this is not about school rules this is a civil right case.” “Wait seriously?” Said Patton. “Yes and if word gets out people will get mad and next thing you know some modern day Eleanor Roosevelt is gonna come and hell’s gonna break loose.”

We move back to New York “We got to go down their and raise holy hell” exclaimed Roman “We’ll be the biggest thing to happen to Indiana since........whatever’s happen in Indiana are you with me!?!” Said Remus as he and Roman start stand on top of a table they all cheered “We’ll get Joan to tag along to find us a venue” “I just book us a non-union tour of Godspell and I goes through Indiana we can ride on the bus.” Said Thomas “Can we do this guys” Said Janus “You bet your sweet MILF ass we can jannie”

🎶 We are gonna prove that in this day and age being gay isn’t a crime. This is out moment to change the world one homo 🎶

🎶Homo🎶

🎶Homo 🎶

🎶Homo🎶

🎶At a time🎶

🎶 we’re gonna help that little homo, whether he likes it or not, when your a legendary thespian 🎶

🎶First you help the distressed 🎶

🎶Then you help the distraught🎶

🎶We’re gonna go to where the necks are red and lack of dentistry thrives, Why sing and dance when you can take a stance🎶

🎶And know your truly changing lives. We’re gonna March until that town looks like the end of act one in les mis. You don’t gotta have a Ph.D in psych to know that people kowtow to the folks in the biz🎶

🎶We’re gonna teach’em to be more PC the minute or group arrives🎶

🎶That’s right🎶

🎶Those fist-pumping🎶

🎶Bible-thumping🎶

🎶Spam-eating🎶

🎶Cousin-humping🎶

🎶Cow-tipping🎶

🎶Shoulder-slumping🎶

🎶Tea-bagging🎶

🎶Jesus-jumping🎶

🎶Losers and their inbred wives. They’ll learn compassion🎶

🎶And better fashion🎶

🎶Once we at last start changing lives!!!!🎶

🎶Now let’s go help that dyke🎶

People to tag/ @artissijules

This took a long time to write

#sanders sides #logicality #thomas sanders #livy writes #janus sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #c!thomas #demus #dukeceit #sanders sides the prom au #ts joan #prinxiety

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