#fucking hell some of you people make your own bait

[ballroomnotoriety]

continuously flummoxed by the people who get on a public social media site and make public posts and then...try to moderate who interacts with those posts further than just blocking the shitheads. unless you turn off reblogs or make a post private or have a password locked blog or do literally anything to personally take responsibility for containing your post, you sign a contract that says "if this thing breaks 45 notes you get idiots". them's the breaks! i do not understand people who seem to enjoy being stressed out monitoring every dumbass comment and tag on their 10k shitpost. ESPECIALLY when people get salty about fictional character tags on the fictional character website. there's a super easy way to avoid all of that and it's called "private blog" but there are some of y'all who like to do the online equivalent of standing in the cul-de-sac, shouting, and then gettin mad when the neighbors look at you.

[noirscript]

call avoidance.

Yandere Hotline: 3/?

featuring: implied drugging. implied tresspassing. lots of male masturbation. unsolicited phone sex (?). implied kidnapping. AFAB!Reader (yan calling reader mommy)

note: this is written while half-asleep. not edited. brain go brrr. i'll add the src some time.

Dealing with mad people can drive anyone insane. But if you're given a hefty sum to keep the insane ones company, you'll take. Life is tough, but you can choose your own hell.

"Got you some drink. Your favorite flavor," Heidi, your 'neighbor' in cubicle, said cheerfully as she placed the drink and sandwich on your spot.

"Well, who are we kidding." You shook your head before placing the plastic cup in your trash bin along with the tasty sandwich that came with it. "They're really persistent, you know?"

You smiled sheepishly as you arrange your cubicle to start a new day. Unlike your workmates, your place is quite neat and devoid of anything that would identify that spot as yours.

No personal images pinned on the corkboard. Not even a framed picture of whoever inspires you to get up and work hard without becoming insane yourself.

Upon accepting the job offer, you made sure to draw the most visible line to keep your personal life to yourself. You've heard some stories—some myths—about some agents disappearing without any trace overnight. Like they never existed in the first place.

"I hope they fuck off, you know?" You sighed before putting on your noise-cancelling headphones. "May we survive this shift," you grumbled as you wait for the first call with baited breath.

You have frequent customers. Most of them were pleasant to talk to. Let's just say that they're not exactly the dangerous type of callers. Those type clients were, most likely, drawn to the idea of being a 'yandere' as a fantasy. Sometimes, there's a hint of sexualization.

Almost every person on the floor are taking calls. Including you. However, your gut's been telling you to ignore the call. Maybe it's one of those unhinged callers who believes that you're theirs. Like they own you and all of your time.

You still have some available credits for call avoidance since you rarely used your credits. Surely, this one call will not affect your performance rating.

While waiting for the phone to stop ringing, you decided to clean up your work email. Being bombarded with useless newsletters about food and books on sale is the worse. Not only does it make your inbox crowded, it's also spammy.

You were fightung the urge to just select all and delete everything at once when you suddenly heard a notification. One after another.

One from your email, another one from your messaging app, and lastly—from the internal chatroom.

You opened the email with an attachment. It was a blank email but as soon as the preview for the attachment appeared, you almost gagged.

It was an image of a man's cock. There were translucent liquid splattered everywhere while the tip of his dick is on a cup—filled to the brim with iced coffee with foamy top. Your favorite.

Your hands were shaking as you exit the window of the website. You clicked the messaging app first. 'Perhaps it was just a promotional message from one of those companies.'

But no.

It was a message from a private number. You don't have any idea how they did it, but they kept sending you images. Most of them were blurry, but the ones with better quality almost made you vomit.

It was taken in a small room. At first, the room was dark, but eventually the image light up. His face was blurred, but you could clearly see what he was doing.

He was fucking your pillow. The one you've been using since you've moved in a better place with better security.

You were confused. And scared.

How could he easily enter your place? Your keys are with you and only the management has access to other duplicates.

"No way..." you whispered as you close the messaging app's window.

One bomb was dropped after another. And you knew something's off.

[NOTICE OF TERMINATION]

Due to multiple reports of call avoidance and drop calls, the management has decided to relieve you from your position as an agent effective immediately.

As we value your well-being, rest assured that you will be receiving your full payment for the next three months along with the other benefits that the company has sworn to provide you.

We sincerely appreciate your efforts for the last three years. We wish you all the best from this day forward.

You were devastated, yet relieved upon reading the letter. You've been wanting to receive this for months. It was the only way out of this place and this industry. You've also managed to save up a lot that you can start fresh somewhere. Far from this place.

Another phone call managed to bypass the automatic system of the place. You took a deep breath before accepting the call.

"Hello?"

"I can't... wait... haah..." the man on the line was clearly doing himself. By the eay he sounds, he's probably close. "We'll move to a big house... haah... hngg... a baby, a babyyy... nhnn... come home..."

Your eyes widened upon hearing your name. Not the screen name you gave them, but your legal full name.

"Let me... hngg... make you a mommy... d'you want that, huh?" You could a wet sloppy noises in the background. "Tiny baby... sucking on your tits... while I make a mess out of you?"

"Ap—"

"No need for... apologies..." he was breathing heavily. "I'll see you soon, okay?

"Heimdall."

He chuckled. "That's me, my princess... took you long enough to say my name."

"How did you get into my house?" you asked while gritting your teeth.

"Patience, my love. We could talk all about it once you're home. Should I get you something to eat? Chicken? Cake? Sandwich? Coffee?"

"I'm done with you."

You immediately pressed the end call button before gathering your things and left. Not even a farewell to your friends.

But there's something you should probably know.

Heidi can't wait to be an aunt and to be your sister-in-law!

[llamagoddessofficial]

A little indulgent, venty drabble.

~~~

Your bedroom door opened. You were absolutely certain you had locked it. Alarmed, you shot up in bed, looking to the entrance to see who was intruding on you when your mood was so crushingly terrible.

It was Nightmare. He had a weird expression on his face, he looked very... calm. Calm was weird for him. He was the last person you expected to see.

... Also probably one of the last people you wanted to see.

"What're you doing?" you snapped. "Get out of my room."

His voice was low. "is everything alright?"

"Uh. Yeah." Perhaps you sounded more hostile than you needed to. You were glaring. "Everything's fine. You can go."

... His lovely cyan eye lingered on you.

...

He did not, in fact, leave. He closed the door behind him.

What the hell? Indignation coursed through you. "I'm seriously fine. Leave me alone."

"no," he said, softly.

You really really didn't have the self control for this, right now. You spent every moment of every day watching your words, taking stock of everything that left your lips, ensuring it wouldn't bother those around you even if it was at your own expense. Right now, you were fraying at the edges. You did not have the energy.

"Nightmare. Go away. I want to be alone right now."

He started walking toward you. He looked so calm. He looked like he understood exactly what was going on.

Anger flashed inside you, oil catching in a pan, it spittled and flew to your lips. You did not understand what was going on, and you didn't like feeling stupid.

"Get the fuck out of my room!"

"no."

“What the hell is your problem!?" You leaned forward, voice raising, like a cat raising its hackles. "You want to come watch me at my lowest? Point and laugh, rub it in? Real fucking mature of you.”

He didn't take the anger bait. "no." 

Stars, something was really wrong with you today, because his lidded socket and soothing voice just utterly infuriated you.

“Get out!” you yelled.

He didn't respond. He just looked like he cared.

You picked up the nearest weighted thing - your matte plastic water bottle - and threw it at him as hard as you could. He paused, but only to let the bottle literally just bounce off him... it hit his chest and thudded to the floor, rolling away plaintively.

You were probably acting more like a toddler than a grown adult human right now. But you were out of self control. Out of anything, really. Tired and cranky.

“Fuck off! Leave me alone!”

"it's okay."

What? When he started approaching again, you picked up another heavy object to throw, this time it was your bedside lamp. You were shocking yourself with your own bad behaviour. When you launched that at him, a tentacle curled in the air and caught it, setting it carefully down on the floor and not even interrupting his stride.

“Go bother someone else! I’m not a child!”

Honestly? You left that one open for him. You wanted him to make the most of the opportunity to insult you - maybe he’d say something sharp like “not a child? you sure are acting like one.” Something that would bring you back into territory you felt safe in. You didn't like the way he was looking at you, the way you were the only one yelling but he looked so empathetic and gentle. You wanted some control.

“it’s alright,” he murmured. “you can say what you need to. i know you don’t mean it.”

“What - what the fuck are you talking about?!”  

Nightmare sat beside you, cross-legged on your bed. And before you could do a thing, his extremely dexterous tentacles curled around you; and pulled you in, until you were sitting between his legs.

Oh, you were furious. You weren't even sure what you were yelling, but you were definitely yelling something. If you had been a cat raising your hackles before, now you had your claws out, you were scratching and biting and yowling. You kicked at him, you slapped at his chest, you shoved him like that would do anything.

... He didn't say a thing. His arms rested on either of his knees, and a tentacle carefully brushed your back. You kept hitting him. You ...

... You started to run out of steam. Your 'hits' on his chest became weaker, feebler, until you weren't really hitting him anymore. You were just bumping your enclosed fist against his sternum. The water bottle from before probably did more damage than you were doing now.

...

... You hiccuped.

And then you just started to bawl.

Nightmare clearly had anticipated this all along. He leaned down, face closer to your level, like he wanted you to know he was there. Your head thumped against his shoulder, where it remained, sobs wracking your entire body. He didn’t interrupt. He just let you cry - getting it all out. 

Part of you wanted to be embarrassed. Assaulting him and then wailing right there in his lap. But oh... there was something so wonderful about acting your absolute worst, and yet, not being abandoned. You worked so hard to be liked; every day, you did everything you could to be the kind of person that the people around you would enjoy. So much so that you had no idea what was left, underneath all of the personalities you'd stitched together to make a quilt people would like looking at.

Nightmare had just watched you scream at the top of your lungs, then sob with anything you had left. And yet? He was still there.

By the time your crying quietened down, his eyelight was glowing a little brighter. A little bluer. You weren’t sure what that meant.

“... I-I...” you rubbed your eyes with your sleeve as best you could. Your voice was horrendously hoarse and thin. “I didn’t... mean...”

“i know,” he said, warmly. Sitting this close, you could hear how his voice thrummed from within his chest, not really his mouth. Knowing his lecherous and borderline evil personality, you thought that basically sitting on his lap would've felt different. Risky, perhaps. Right now, it didn't - you felt comforted. The good kind of surrounded.

"I'm sorry."

“don't be. if there’s anyone who would know when anger is a cry for help, it’s me.”

You kept your head on his shoulder. "I shouldn't have hit you."

He tilted his face to you a little more. He was so close - inches away. You could feel his breathing. “honestly? i incited you, in the hopes you would. you just wanted to be angry. everyone deserves to feel angry, every now and then.”

“It doesn’t always feel like it is okay," you muttered.

"anger isn't something to be ashamed of. anger protects you. it tells you when your lines have been crossed."

"How can I be angry, without hurting people? If you were anyone else, I would've really hurt you."

"i'm afraid there's no easy answer to that, dear."

You looked up at him. “How did you know I didn't want to be left alone?”

"did you forget i can read emotions?"

Ah. True. You always forgot Nightmare wasn't just any old skeleton. He was some kind of God, wasn't he? A deity of negativity. He probably read everything going on in your mind the moment it arose.

"I kinda did, yeah."

His socket crinkled at the corner. “i felt what you wanted. heh, that, and... i know your insults well enough to know your heart wasn’t in those.”

You couldn’t help but let out a tiny watery snicker, at that. He seemed to like it. 

“... Thank you." You brought your legs up to your chest, tucking closer against him. "For... for not leaving.”

He finally put his arms around you.

“of course.”

[probablyintensemuses]

Hey, Brother

Armando Aretas

🎧- Story of My Life: One Direction

summary: Armando’s your older brother, here’s how you meet, past and present.

themes: extreme angst and fluff. A bit of violence. But mostly found family and sibling love.

authors note: completely convinced he’d be an amazing older brother. There is a 8 year age gap between reader (20) and Armando (28). Also shout out to my older brother…I wuv you 💞😭 Also yes I know i switched a few things around. Just enjoy it. If you want a part two, lemme know!

Read Part two here

Four Years Ago

Miami Florida University

The night on campus was quiet, the only things to be heard were the comforting trill of crickets and the soft waves of the ocean, only three miles out from the college.

Armando sat idle on his motorcycle, twelve beats away from where he’d been told you, their next victim, worked.

This entire time he’d been killing people in the name of the Aretas family, he couldn’t understand why Mike Lowery, some beat cop came last. And why his mother was resorting to taking his daughter as bait.

What made Mike so important that he deserved a fight for his life, for your life?

“Mamá, no entiendo, ¿por qué ella?” Armando says through his phone.

Isabel sighs on the other end. “Con el tiempo, hijo mío.”

“She’s just a kid.” Armando sighs, pulling out his ipad and looking at your photos again.

From what he gathered, your were a first year nursing student here at MFU, you got great grades, danced for a kpop club, and worked part time at the cafe he was currently parked out side of.

But most importantly, you were Mike Lowery’s daughter.

Which, in the grand scheme of things, shouldn’t matter.

But for some reason, to his mother, it did.

“She's a pawn,’ Isabel hisses. “Mike necesita conocer el dolor de la pérdida; this will show him.”

Armando nods, taking a deep breath, feeling the same incorrigible anger rising up in his pit again at the sound of Mikes name.

This man had stolen everything from him: his family, his dynasty…his father.

Though his didn’t understand his mother’s methods, he’d never question her madness.

This man took everything from them, it’s time he learned that same pain, and as much as he didn’t enjoy hurting innocent… you were the key to getting even.

“Lo haré mamá.” Armando said, watching you finally exit the cafe.

“Muy bien.” Isabel said, hanging up.

Armando pushed off on his bike, riding a bit down the narrow street before hanging a right and turning back around.

Out of his pocket, he pulled out a needle. Whatever was in there was strong enough to knock out a bear, so it should have no problems sending you, a small college freshman, into a deep sleep.

Swiftly, he drives forward, accelerating until he just passes you before he makes an abrupt stop, cutting your path off.

You fall back and onto your ass.

You help as you hit the pavement, lifting your small hands to access the damage that had been caused by you cradling your fall.

You hiss at your bleeding palms before looking up at Armando in sheer disgust.

The heat of your gaze causes Armando to flip up the visor on his helmet, something in your eyes giving him pause.

He wasn’t a vain person in the slightest, but something about your eyes, when he looked in the mirror, they were so similar to his own that it nearly startled him. They were the same shade of chocolate brown covered by thick, dark lashes.

His observation of you quickly dries as your curse at him. “What the hell, dude! You could have killed me!”

Armando doesn’t say anything, instead he offers you a hand.

Reluctantly, you take it.

Just as your nearly up, Armando pricks you with the needle.

Your face drops as you snatch your hand away from him.

You look down at your palm, a single trail of blood dribbling down your wrist from the spot he pricked you at.

“What the fuck,’ you wobble, turning to run down an ally.

Armando watches as you attempt to flee, he knew it wouldn’t be long before you passed out.

And as he predicted, ten steps in and you were slumped against the moist ally ground.

He picks you up, slinging you across his shoulders, carrying you towards his bike and driving off into the night.

Later…

When you awoke, you found yourself bound to a chair in a large, abandoned house. You wiggle against the binds, only scathing your wrist even more.

You scream out, panic rising in your chest as your breaths shorten.

"Help!" You scream. "Someone help me!"

"Help is on the way, princessa.' A slick voice says.

You turn and see a beautiful woman taking slow, slutry steps down the staircase towards you.

"Who the hell are you?" You croak, scooting away from her the best you can in this damn chair.

The woman, grips your chair with one hand, while running another through your curls. "Your fathers la venganza.” She hissed.

“Don’t touch me,’ you bite. “And my father did nothing wrong, you’re lying.”

Isabel grips your chin, hard. You try and wiggle free but it’s no use as she pulls you close.

She turns your head from side to side, the warm evening sun causing a glint in your eyes.

“Always the eyes,’ she mumbles. “He gives all of his children his eyes.”

“What?” You question, breathlessly.

Isabel forcefully lets you go, leaving a sore spot on your chin.

Your mind reels around her words and the weight of them.

She was your father’s revenge, why? And had she been the one to shoot him all those months ago?

And all of his children. Your father only had one child, you.

Looking around the wear house and seeing all the sage and candles burnt, the circles and alters, you could tell that whoever this woman was, she was crazy and you wanted no parts.

The thought was enough to make a few screams come out of you.

You stamp your foot against the ground, “Let me go! Let me the fuck go!”

Isabel rolls her eyes at you, mumbling something in Spanish before she shouts, “Armando, ven a llevarla antes de que la mate yo mismo.”

Quickly, the man for the other night emerges.

“No,’ you scoot back in your chair as far as you could. “No.”

The man, Armando, grabs you out of your chair and drags you up the staircase.

At the top of the staircase, he slices your binds loose but still has a good hold on you.

Now, you by no means are a good fighter, but with your dad being police, you know a few things.

So as Armando unlocks a door, presumably to put you in, you stamp on his foot as hard as you can.

Armando yelps at the sensation, doubling over, giving you enough time to kick him in the legs and send him down on the ground.

As soon as he hits the floor you take off, running down the steps as fast as you can.

In the foyer, you check for the exit in front of you, but the door is locked.

Your head is buzzing, you didn’t have much time as Armando would be up soon, probably ready to kill you, and that Isabel, who knew what she’d do if she caught you.

You had to move fast, and the window behind you, seemed like your best bet.

You scurried over me to it, working frantically as you tore wooden planks off the window.

You about all got your face out the window before strong arms wrap around your waist living and pushing your back.

You scream as you hit the ground, coming face to face with a less than pleased Armando.

“Enough games!” He shouts.

You crawl backwards, afraid he’ll hit you…or worse.

“Okay!’ You whimper. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry.” You squeak as he towers over your shaking body.

You fully expect him to return the blows you’d given him earlier, but to your surprise he doesn’t. He just grabs you up again and takes you back to that same room.

Shoving you inside he gives you a parting word.

“Do that shit again, and I won’t save you.” He slams the door, leaving you alone in a windowless room, wondering how you’ll end up dead.

In all the enemies your father has had, none of them had mad it a personal mission to kidnap you…so why had they?

Fingers toiling with the dirt around you, it finally clicked.

This was a set up.

You were bait.

And just as fate would have it, you could hear what sounded like your father and Marcus crowding in the foyer downstairs.

You stood up, running towards the door and banging on it like a madwoman.

“Help! Dad! Uncle Marcus!” You shout, slamming your fist against the door.

When the door flies open, you expect to see one or both of them there, but you see Armando.

“Come on.” He grabs you. “Nice and easy.” He places a gun to your temple.

“Stop, why are you doing this?” You whimper, taking careful steps down the stairs.

“Why did your father start it, hm, princesa?” He questions, pulling you in front of your family.

“Dad!” You shout, tears pooling from your eyes.

“Let her go, Armando!’ He shouts, turning to Isabel who stands elated. “She’s a kid.”

“We were all kids once, Mike. It’s why she must have her turn.” Isabel says.

Mike shakes his head, drawing his gun at her, Marcus doing the same to Armando.

“You kill me, he kills her.” Isabel shrugs.

Marcus adds, “then I’ll kill him.”

“Then it’ll be a blood bath.”

You whimper, “please don’t hurt me.”

Armando tightens his grip on you. “Cállate.”

“I just want to go home, daddy.” You cry.

Mikes hand shakes as he hears your pleas. “I know, baby, and we will.”

Isabel smacks her lips. “Liar!” She shouts, lunging at Mike.

Mike dodges the hit, but Marcus’s gun going off starts a cataclysmic event.

Everyone who wants present before suddenly emerging from the darkness and letting off their weapons.

You scream, falling back into Armando, who lifted you off the ground with one hand while shooting with the other, as the chaos erupts around you.

“Marcus!’ Mike yells. “Get Isabel, I’ll get my daughter!”

Marcus sprints, to the best of his ability, after Isabel, while Mike makes full way towards Armando.

In a dark room, Armando drops you, pushing you into a corner.

“Don’t make a fucking sound.” He threatens.

You whimper in a comply.

You hear your father, Mike, burst through the doors, calling your name.

You do as Armando says, though, keeping quiet, afraid anything you do or say will get you and Mike hurt…or worse.

You watch from the dark corner as your father searches the room, only seconds later Armando jumps him, landing a blow.

You watch from the sidelines as they traded blows back and forth.

And it hurt to watch your father in a fight, it did, but what hurt most? The words slipping from his mouth.

“Armando,’ he said. “I’m your father.”

Your head was buzzing, spinning.

What the fuck did he mean this man was his son? How was that even possible?

Your heart raced as you watched Armando’s face fall, confusion lacing every corner.

“You’re lying,’ he said lading another blow, bending down and dragging your father out of the room and into the burning hallway.

You weren’t sure if it was adrenaline or curiosity, but you needed to see this through, hear it for yourself.

You push to stand and creep after them.

Armando has your father at the ledge, his shirt balled up working his hands.

“Last chance,’ he croaks, eyes searching. “Who are you?”

“I just told you.”

“Lie again.” Armando growled, wrapping his hand around your fathers neck, applying pressure.

You gasped, stepping forward, but a hand cautioned you to stay hidden.

You turn, finding Marcus’s comforting eyes as he mouths, “Don’t do it.”

"He needs us," you whisper in protest, Marcus's arm staying firm on yours.

"They need this, just wait."

You relax, only a little watching the scene unfold.

"Ask your mother if you don't believe me." Mike croaks.

Armando turns, loosening his grip on Mike, and in a turn of lightning, Isabel appears, mumbling in Spanish.

"Es verdad lo que dice?" Armando questions his mother.

Isabel shrugs. "No es importante. Mátalo.' her eyes drag over to where you and Marcus stand. "Entonces ellos."

Armando shakes his head in frustration. "Es mi papá?"

Isabel's eyes darken, her words fleeing her mouth more rapidly. "

"Is he my father!" Armando shouts.

Something in the way your father laid limp in Armando's graps, the fire and smoke building around you all, and the life you once knew just yesterday crumpling around you had you desperate for the truth.

"Tell him!" You shout.

Isabel pays you no mind when she says, "yes."

Three letters.

One word.

That was all it took for your world to shatter.

You had a brother you hadn't known about, a brother who drugged and kidnapped you.

all of his children have his eyes.

A brother your father had behind you and your mother's back.

The realization made your mind splinter, picking up in your chest with each shortened breath you took.

Tears pooled in your eyes, making the scene in front of you blur and sharpen, wax and wane.

It's not until a shout and commotion caused you to dial back in, where you find Isabel pointing the barrel of her gun directly at your chest.

You're too frozen to move and put your hands up to brace yourself for the pain, for death.

But it never comes.

only the sounds of four shots ringing out and blaring in your ears, that's the only sensation you get.

You move your hands from your eyes and find Isabel falling over the balcony to her death and Armando on the floor, his shirt filling with blood as Mike, Marcus, and Rita crowd around him.

It clicks then for you, he took that bullet for you, he stepped in for you against his mother.

This family was dysfunctional as hell.

"Get over here!' your father calls out to you. "Now!"

You scurry over, tearing off your flannel and placing it on Armando's wound.

"We need to get the hell out of here!" Rita shouts.

"Go with Rita!" Mike shouts towards you.

You nod, locking hands with Rita and rushing out of the burning building.

Once outside, you look behind yourself to find Mike and Marcus dragging Armando's body and placing him on the ground, applying pressure to his wounds.

The rain clouds your vision as you draw closer to the van waiting to take you away and back home.

"Is he going to be okay?" You ask, holding your wet and naked arms.

Rita sighs, ushering you into the car. "I don't think that's something you should have to worry about.' She smiles softly. "Get some rest, kid. Okay?"

You nod and shut the door, feeling the car jerk before it pulls off and away from the chaos.

You fasten your seatbelt and lean your head back against the headrest.

Perhaps Rita was right, maybe worrying about Armando wasn't such a good idea. Maybe it was best for you to shove it down and let your dad deal with it, like he did everything.

Because you didn't think your heart could handle any more than what it was already going through. Thinking about Armando, your father, and Isabel...it would only weigh you down more.

So you decided to leave them all at that building that night, to burn up in the flames.

At least you tried to...

Four Years Later

Miami Florida University

"Please tell me you're coming to this party tonight?" Your friend, Kiesha, asked over the phone.

You chuckle, climbing the last flight of stairs to your apartment. Your father, Mike, had got it for you as gift for being in your last year of college.

“I can’t, sorry.’ You place the key code to your apartment and the door unlocks. “Lots of studying to do.” You half-lie.

“Girl, all you do is study. You know college is not actually for school.” You can practically feel her rolling her eyes.

You drop your bags on the counter, pulling out a pack of ramen noodles and starting a pot of boiling water.

“That’s easy to say for someone who’s only half majoring in, what is it, communications?” You comment.

The line goes silent for a minute before Keisha comes back.

“Wow,’ she scoffs. “I get that you’re stressing out with finals and you know, your dad being a fucking fugitive and all, but you don’t have to take it out on me.”

You run a hand through your hair, it getting tangled within your curls towards the end.

“Kiesh,’ you groan.

“Save it. Have fun studying.” She grumbles before hanging up.

“Fuck!’ You shout, turning and tossing your phone down the hallway.

Your grip at your hair and tug slightly, shutting your eyes you feel a hot tear slip out.

It had been a whole week since your father and uncle Marcus were deemed fugitives and accused of doing God knows what. It had been hard for you and Christine.

Knowing your father, you knew the allegations weren’t true, but another cover up, same as Captain Howard.

Still, you know it was bullshit meant nothing to the “adults” in charge. They saw him as guilty, and that seemed to be the end of it.

You turn, wiping away your tears and placing your ramen into the boiling pot of water.

It wasn’t the best, but it was all you could stomach these days, the fear of your family's future causing your appetite to slim.

You twirling the noodles in the water with a pair of chopsticks, watching the five minute timer chime by. It all but captivated you into a trance until a creak against the floor caught your attention.

You turn your head, peering down the hallway you had just thrown your phone. Staring into the darkness, you see a figure moving towards you slowly.

You gasp, grabbing a large knife and holding it out in front of you with shaky hands.

You would call for help, but unfortunately your phone was in harms way.

“Don’t come any closer,’ you squeak.

The figure doesn’t respond, it just trudges closer and closer to you until it’s emerged into your kitchen lighting.

At first, you have to squint real hard to make out who it is, but then, when you catch a glimpse of his eyes, so hauntingly like your own, you know who exactly it is.

Your brother, Armando.

You don't drop the knife, keeping it held high as you slowly approach him. You'd seen how vicious he was, and you weren't taking any chances with him.

Closing the space between you two, you could see that he's in full tactical gear, covered in blood.

He takes another step towards you, you step back, before collapsing onto the ground and passing out.

You rush towards his side. “What the hell!” You rip open his vest, finding all kinds of stab wounds and lacerations littering his body. “Armando!” You shake him.

He doesn’t respond, you shake him again, harder this time, and a tiny black book falls out.

You open the book and find your address on one sheet and another sheet addressed to you.

Don’t hate me, babygirl. I’ll explain everything soon, until then, you two lay low.

Be strong for me.

Love, Dad.

You could scream, you could actually fucking scream right now.

No way this motherfucker sends this other motherfucker to your house for you to nurse back to health.

You crumple up your father’s note, chucking it across the room.

Looking down at Armando, you watch the slow rise and fall of his chest as he lay unconscious.

It was obvious he was loosing blood, and you could let him bleed out and pretend you tried everything.

But then again, he saved your life before…and he didn’t even know you.

Guilt tugged in your chest at the thought.

“Fuck.” You breathed, throwing your head back.

You knew what you had to do.

You figured lifting him would be hard, he was bigger than you by a long shot and was basically deadweight.

You tapped him, shook him, slapped him…hard, but nothing woke him up.

Looks like you’d be operating on the floor.

You stood, gathering your curls in a pineapple on your head, and headed to your bathroom.

You grabbed all the first aid kit supplies you could find, fresh clothes, a blanket and pillow, before heading back out to the main part of your apartment.

You slipped on some gloves, cut open his shirt, and began working on his wounds, dressing them and putting on bandages.

Thank God for nursing school and clinicals.

It took you two bowls of ramen, a Celsius, and a whole heck of a lot of bandages and gorilla glue, but you got Armando mostly patched up.

You wiped the sweat of your forehead grabbing the pillow and blankets you’d grabbed.

You gently lifted his head placing the pillow underneath and the blanket on top of him.

Next to his body you placed the fresh clothes, Gatorade, protein bars, and a bottle of water.

When you finally stood, you felt woozy and in need of a shower and sleep yourself.

But before you crept off to take your shower, you stood over Armando, taking in his features.

His dark hair, his smooth skin, his nose, and lips. He looked like a Spanish version of your father and it was freaking you the fuck out, sending a shiver down your spine.

You walked away hoping your father’s explanation was coming soon because, you may have just saved his life on the conscious fact that he’d done the same for you, but he was still dangerous…and who knows what would happen to you when he wakes up.

The next morning, when you wake up, you creep out of your bedroom, peaking to see if Armando had moved at all.

To your surprise, he hadn’t.

You release a heavy sigh, walking over towards his body.

You watch his chest rise and fall, faster than last night.

Good.

At least your dad couldn’t kill you for letting his son die.

You lean in a big closer to Armando, checking out his wounds from a far.

One wound had opened it seemed like.

You turn and grab the gorilla glue and a bandage of your counter.

Completely removing one bandage, you toss it to the side, pinching the skin of his chest while prepping the glue.

You’re just about to glue his would shut again, when his arm shoots up, gripping your wrist.

You scream, falling back on your ass.

Armando’s eyes shoot open and he sits up quick in a panic.

You crawl backwards, away from him, bumping into the cabinet .

Armando groans, rubbing his sore torso and arms.

His eyes skate across the room before they find yours.

He jumps back a little. “¿Qué diablos me hiciste?”

You swallow, holding your knees. “I don’t speak Spanish.”

Armandos eyes widen then narrow. “Did you do this to me?” He says, accessing his bandages.

You hesitate to tell him the truth…would he be mad and hurt you again?

Armando must sense the hesitation. “I’m not going to hurt you,’ he groans, slowly standing up. “It’s just a question.”

You nod, backing away from him. “Yes…I did.”

Armando swipes up the bottle of water, chugging it, tossing it aside, and then going for the Gatorade. “Gracias.” He grumbles, heading towards your bathroom.

You stand, slowly following after him, still keeping some distance between you two.

Armando peers over his should, eyebrow raised. “Mike sent me, if you’re wondering.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to be here as much as you don’t want me here.”

“I never said that.” You clarify, even though he’s not wrong.

“Don’t need to.”

You frown. “Armand—,”

He slams the door shut.

“Great.” You roll your eyes. “Just fucking great.”

You slam your head against the wall, thinking off all the ways you would tell your dad off when you saw him next. But until then, it seemed you and Armando would be roommates.

So you should try and be cordial, right?

[ichorai]

hell, yeah ; roman roy ; part six.

pairing ; roman roy x f!reader

synopsis ; pain was an old friend for the both of you.

words ; 13.8k

themes ; angst, fluff, drama, slowburn, childhood friends to lovers

warnings / includes ; depictions of mental and physical abuse, major character death, heavy angsty shit, sexual jokes and general foul language, business talk, roman is so in love, connor gets a bit of spotlight for this chapter </3

a/n ; sorry i'm taking so so so long w this series! uni keeps getting in the way of my writing HAHA but i hope you guys enjoy :)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Bidding wars had never really been fun for you. It was always emails upon emails, calls after calls, Logan yelling, Gerri scrambling, negotiations, bargains, deals—it was all too much.

But this… even you had to admit, this was fun. 

Maybe because it was the first time you were working against Logan and not for him. And being around the Roy siblings reminded you of your childhood—a time where the four of you got along for the most part, even with the bloody noses and scraped knees and the yankings of hair.

Buying Pierce had been something you were starkly against while you were working in Waystar, but with this new thing that the Roy siblings were crafting, you had complete faith that Shiv, Kendall—hell, even Roman, would keep the news station’s values in check.

And, though you weren’t entirely proud of it, there was a thrill, a rush of adrenaline, when the four of you raised your bidding price to a healthy ten billion as a closing offer, knowing there was no way Logan could ever consider outbidding that.

Nan Pierce accepted with little pushback, much to Logan’s fury.

Your godfather yelled at the four of you through the phone later that day, but there was no fear sitting within your stomach, like there usually was when he got angry. No, you were laughing. Kendall and Shiv and Roman—they were stifling their own smiles down at the screen, too.

That night, you stood on your balcony, a lit cigarette loosely balanced between your fingers. You weren’t at all a smoker—in fact, you hadn’t had one ever since you joined Waystar. It was an unprofessional look, in a sense. Not something you wanted to be associated with. 

The goddaughter that smelled of cheap cigarettes. Wasn’t that an unattractive thought?

But you didn’t have to worry about that anymore, did you? Honestly, you weren’t quite sure yourself. You’d just assumed you were no longer part of the company, but knowing Logan…

He always had something up his sleeve. Maybe he’d wait until the siblings lowered their guards to snipe you in the back of the head. Or lure you back with meaty bait. 

You took a short drag, faint grey wisps falling past your lips as you breathed out. 

“You smoking now? Doing a little smokey smokes?” came Roman’s voice from behind you, making you turn your head with a slight grin. “Since when?”

“First one since I was a little baby teenager, I think,” you replied. Roman leaned onto the balcony railing beside you, shoulder pressing flush against yours. “They taste disgusting. Here—”

You took a drag—a longer one, this time—leaned forward until your lips were just a whisker away from his, and blew the smoke into him. He inhaled deep before jerking forward to kiss you, nose nudging yours in his fervor.

“Yeah. Fucking disgusting,” he mumbled against your lips, as if wanting to propel you into something more than just kisses. 

Your eyes lit up with amusement, but you pulled away, leaving a lingering kiss on the side of Roman’s nose. The cigarette wasn’t at all used up, but you put it out on a small ashtray you had taken with you. 

“I just wanted to try,” you said. “Was wondering if I’d like it after all this time, now that I have the freedom to.”

There was a curious glint to Roman’s molten eyes. “And do you?”

“Nah. Like I said—they taste disgusting.”

“Some people like disgusting,” he off-handedly said, and you shot him a pointed look.

A breezy laugh, lost to the wind. “Yeah. I might know someone.”

“You’re a goody two-shoes, you know that?” he commented snidely, but his eyes were far too soft for his words to strike harsh. “But it’s good. We need someone like that. The company, I mean.”

“I know,” you whispered back. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”

“Yeah,” Roman said, his hand lacing with yours. He began tugging you back inside. “Me too.”

Connor wanted the four of you to come to his wedding rehearsal at a fancy restaurant downtown—he texted you multiple different addresses, each text telling you to disregard the last one. Then, he called you (called Shiv first, but she was on the phone, passive-aggressively bickering with Tom), and told you exactly where he was. Apparently Willa wasn’t very happy with the venues they’d booked. He sounded sad—it was always easy to tell when he was sad.

And so the four of you set off for him, though not without Roman’s constant complaints. Spending some quality time with their eldest brother was the last thing the Roy siblings wanted to do—they had far more pressing matters at hand. 

Sandi and Stewy, for one. They wanted to veto the acquisition for more dollars squeezed from Matsson’s hand. Roman was starkly against the idea, not wanting to blow more bullets into his father. Shiv and Kendall were far more willing to listen, though Kendall eventually backed down. It was appealing, you had to admit, especially because you hated Matsson’s guts, but you wanted to put business aside for the moment. Spend some time with Connor—after all, he was going to get married soon. If that ever ended up happening, that is.

Once inside the restaurant’s halls, you caught sight of Willa hurrying down the wide staircase by the entrance, looking a bit frazzled. 

“Oh, hi!” she said, slightly breathless. “So you’re here now, huh?”

“Hi, Willa,” you greeted, embracing her with a loose hug before stepping back. “Are you… going somewhere?”

“You standing up my big bro?” Roman quipped from right behind you. He was joking, but Willa only frowned. “Are you okay? Did something happen?” 

There was a nervous laugh from both parties.

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, yeah, I’m just—I’m having a little drink. Away.” 

Both you and Roman spared each other confused glances.

“Is the dinner rehearsal thing over? He still up there?” Roman asked.

The blonde fiddled with her phone, nearly dropping it. “Oh, uh, the rehearsal isn’t—it’s not done, no.”

“You’re leaving your own wedding rehearsal?” you gently questioned.

She smiled, though it came off only sad and tired. “I think they can manage. I’m not vital from here.”

Roman squinted at her. “Yeah, well… I mean, normally the bride is generally considered—correct me if I’m wrong—I think the bride is pretty vital in a wedding. Don’t you think?” 

“Well! Yeah, but… I should go, though. Have a think about it all. I’m in a bit of a fuzz.” She laughed again, though it looked like she wanted to cry. 

Nodding, you said, “Take care of yourself, Willa. Let us know if you need anything.”

She pursed her lips, eyes soft with appreciation. The two of you had never been quite close, but there was a mutual understanding between you. To be the pedestals of Roy men, the unnamed crutch, the woman on the arm. 

With that, she hurried away. 

“Fairy tale wedding, huh?” Shiv said, eyebrows raised. “Should we even go up? Seems like the rehearsal is over.”

“She said it wasn’t,” you replied, shrugging. “We should go see Con.”

Roman crossed his arms. “Yeah, Shiv, we really should. Why? You got something better to do than see your own brother before his wedding?”

“No, it’s just—we’ve got quite a lot to discuss, that’s all.”

It was Kendall’s turn to query, “What? Sandi and Stewy? They’re baiting us. Just let it go, Shiv.”

“I think they could really help us! We overpromised on Pierce!” she hotly defended.

“It’s a mind game,” Roman agreed with Kendall. “Just—fuck ‘em, okay?”

The redhead looked at you, but you shook your head. “Let’s just go see Connor, okay? We can hash it out after making sure he hasn’t got a gun barrel in his mouth.”

“Sure. Fine,” Shiv said, though it didn’t seem all that fine to her, judging from her pinched expression.

The four of you traipsed up the stairs, spotting Connor instantly—alone, surrounded by near-untouched platters of expensive food.

“Found him,” Roman sarcastically commented, pointing a finger at his oldest brother, who cracked a fond smile.

“Finally,” Connor said. “Took you guys long enough.”

Roman gave him an embrace from the side, saying, “Hey, bro. Hugsy.”

To the other side, Kendall patted his shoulder, another hand thumping on his chest. Shiv only barely leaned down to hug him, telling him, “Dad screwed us.”

“Yeah,” the eldest said. “I heard. But look at you guys—the Rebel Alliance.”

You were last to give Connor a hug, squeezing him tight, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “How’s the rehearsal been?”

A non-committal noise slipped past his lips. “Been good. It’s been okay.”

Roman made a strange, wincing sound, sucking air through his teeth. “Sure. Yeah, I believe you.”

Keen to change the subject, Connor surveyed his siblings—and you—with narrowed eyes. “So this is how it is, huh? Battle royale. Me and Dad on one side, you guys on the other?”

Strange, you hadn’t quite recalled Connor being so in with his father’s business plans. And… the fact that Logan hadn’t shown up to the wedding rehearsal at all.

“You okay, man?” Roman queried, genuine concern slipping over his features. He was always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. “We bumped into Willa on the way in. She seemed all…” He drew up his hands to his face and shook his fingers about.

Pointedly, Connor dropped his gaze down to the table. Untouched food left and right.  “Yeah. It’s alright. I think it’s fine.”

“You sure, Con?” you asked, slipping into the seat beside him, Roman on your other side. 

“Yeah, well, I guess she just—she stood up to do her speech, and then she froze. Said that she couldn’t do it.” There was a laugh, dry and unpleasant and somber. “Then she went to the bathroom for forty minutes with her so-called friends.”

Roman wrinkled his nose and squinted his eyes at nothing in particular. “Oh, no, no, that’s—that’s totally fine. Don’t you worry about that. Just toss her another ten grand—or a snowmobile. Teeth-whitening vouchers.”

Unhappy with the meaning behind his brother’s words, Connor pushed himself away from the table, heading off to speak to Willa’s mom. 

Tossing a glare in Roman’s direction, you sighed out, “Was that really necessary?”

“What? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Slumping into the chair across from you, Kendall huffed out, “This is so fucking weird.”

“Do we regroup at my place?” Shiv asked, still standing, impatient to leave even though they’d just gotten there.

Tilting his head, Roman incredulously said, “Shiv. Come on. He’s… he’s looking a little rough. Don’t you think?”

“Well, sure. I’m sorry that Dad fucked us and I’m sorry that we’re late. But we do need to decide fast.” 

“The Sandi and Stewy deal?” you queried.

Shiv let out a frustrated exhale. “Yeah.”

“Well, I think we’re already decided, no?” Kendall said, lifting a shoulder in half a shrug. Roman nodded in agreement.

“Are we, though? They made some pretty compelling arguments.” Shiv tapped her foot against the hardwood floors impatiently.

Glancing over at Connor, who was trying his best to console Willa’s mother, you bobbed your head, hesitant. “It could potentially ruin Matsson. The deal. I’d like to see it.”

Groaning a little too loudly, Roman said, “Sandy’s just a greedy little bitch. She’s got her hand up the ass of the carcass of her dad, and Stewy’s just coming along for the ride. Can we not do this right now? It’s a fucking—it’s a packet of horseshit.”

Trying her best to stay calm, Shiv perched herself on the edge of the seat next to Kendall. “Okay. And what if I want to talk it through? This would help us.”

Kendall arched a brow. “I think we should just rise above it.”

“Yeah, okay, but maybe Dad is not on it like he used to be—and maybe he’s underplayed his hand, and the board are all just hand-fucking-picked Japanese plastic cats just waving it through,” Shiv argued.

“It doesn’t hurt to try,” you added, trying your best to sway Roman by nudging him gently. He merely rolled his eyes and prodded you back, but said nothing more.

It was then that Connor came hurrying back, carding a hand through his hair. He tiredly sank back down into his seat. “No luck. Still incommunicado. I just really hope she’s okay.”

“I’m sure she is,” you told him, rubbing a hand over his shoulder. “She just needs space, is all.”

“Yeah.” As if he’d flipped a switch, Connor straightened and plastered on a smile. “So, what do you guys say? A little bit of karaoke?”

All three siblings grimaced. 

“Or would it be possible,” Roman began, scratching at his jaw, “to do anything other than that, in the entire universe?”

“I think karaoke sounds nice,” you offered. Honestly, you weren’t too keen on doing karaoke when your mind was abuzz with a million other things at the moment, but it was Connor, and he seemed so down about Willa at his own wedding rehearsal, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to say no to him. It was like kicking at an already-wounded puppy.

Connor grinned. “Nice! One in the bag. Come on, you guys. Don’t leave us hanging.”

Shiv looked near ready to bash her head against the table. Kendall was glancing down at his phone—texting someone.

Roman rolled his eyes and groaned again, even louder than before. “Ugh. Fine! We can drink, though, right? I’m not listening to you sing sober.”

Clearing her throat, Shiv said, “Well, I just, we kind of have—other engagements right now—”

“Oh, sure. Everybody’s busy,” Connor crooned. Though, if you looked close enough, you’d see the unmistakable hurt in his eyes. Why didn’t his baby sister want to spend time with him?

“Come on,” Kendall said with an urgent hand slanting over Shiv’s shoulder, phone gone for now. “Let’s give him a drink.”

Clapping his hands, Connor stood up again. “Great! But—not any of your stupid places. Somewhere fun and real and—away from all the fancy dance. A real bar with, uh, with chicks, and guys who work with their hands in grease—sweat dripping down their backs and blood all over their hair.”

“I don’t like these guys. They sound like a medical experiment gone wrong,” Roman piped up, slinging an arm over your shoulder.

“Sounds hot,” you said with a genuine laugh. “Let’s go.”

The bar itself was atmospherically ambient, the lights warm and unharsh, the chatter light and friendly, the television playing a football match at a soft volume. You smiled—it’d been a while since you stepped foot into an actual bar full of people who weren’t aristocratic assholes.

Normal people doing normal things. What was that like?

Roman, on the other hand, looked particularly uncomfortable, shoulders stiff and expression taut. He was only here for his big brother, but his saint-like kindness only wore so thin.

Kendall ordered drinks for the lot of you—whiskey on the rocks for himself, a sealed soda for Shiv since she didn’t trust anything from the bar’s “tainted” nozzles, a fancy beer for Connor, a vodka tonic for Roman, and a strawberry margarita for you. He snorted when you asked for it, rolling his eyes to the side. 

“You and your strawberries,” Kendall said, before heading off to call the bartender. You weren’t quite sure if his expression was fond or derisive. Perhaps both.

You sat beside Connor, peering over his shoulder, where he was staring at the screen with heavily knitted brows.

“Is that—is that Willa?” you asked, eyes widening upon seeing him zoomed onto a map with a tiny blue dot. “Are you tracking her?”

“Jesus, Con,” said Roman, laughing his high-pitched laugh. “That’s low, even for you.”

“What? I have her location shared,” the older brother said, earning quizzical looks from the three of you. “It’s a factory setting.”

Shiv made a noise of amusement. “It’s not.”

“Well…” Connor’s eyes darted back down to his screen, zooming in impossibly closer. “I’m reassured she’s definitely not on her way to Cuba.”

From his other side, Kendall appeared, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Well, her phone isn’t.”

Connor decided to ignore the comment. “She stopped moving, so… I guess she found a spot she likes.”

“Sure!” crooned Roman. “On another man’s dick.”

The rest of you sighed, and you shook your head. 

“On a much bigger, nicer, harder, younger dick, is all I’m saying,” Roman reassured his eldest brother, patting his shoulders.

“Can we not?” Connor softly said, though he was smiling down at Rome. Even though his words hurt, just the fact that he was there for him cheered him up just a little bit. “Okay? I’m feeling—I’m having certain anxieties, alright? I want to have a good time!”

Once Roman muttered a quick apology, you bumped him off to the side so you can press up next to Connor again, staring down at the blue dot, still unmoving. “I’m sure she just needs a breather. It’s a big deal, y’know. Marriage.”

“I know,” said Con, sucking in a deep breath. There was a profound sort of loneliness to his eyes. “I just thought—I thought it was enough. All of it. It was enough for her.”

“It will be,” you said, nudging him. “Eventually. Just give her time.”

The drinks came then, and you hummed contentedly after taking your first sip. “Fuck. Why don’t they ever have shit like this at the fancy events we go to?”

“Because it’s diabetes in a cup,” Roman replied, but he plucked the glass from your fingers to snag a sip for himself. “It’s literal sugar water. Barely any alcohol in here.”

“Well, I’m not looking to get wasted,” you said, before snatching it back, shooting him a half-hearted glare. “You drank so much!”

“Nuh-uh, there was barely anything in there to begin with!”

“Roman, it was filled to the brim two seconds ago, what are you talking about?”

Before the two of you could divulge into a round of childish bickering, Connor abruptly straightened in his seat. “Her dot is at an aquarium supply retailer. That doesn’t make sense—is that a drug thing?”

Kendall cleared his throat. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You sure?”

Roman snickered. “It is. It’s a drug thing.”

“Maybe she’s getting a pet fish,” you unhelpfully supplied. “A little pre-wedding gift for the two of you?”

Frowning, Connor said, “Now she’s at a dry cleaner’s.”

“Probably getting her panties cleaned from the new dick’s cum,” quipped Roman. The absurdity of the statement made you laugh unexpectedly, but you quickly quietened when Connor stared at the two of you in horror. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, as if he were a parent scolding a naughty toddler. 

“I’m not saying it’s your cum! Your cum, I’m sure, is very washable.” Roman droned on to an incredulous Connor some more, but your attention was drawn to Kendall, whose phone began to ring, and he quietly excused himself from the bar to take the call, face twisted into unmistakeable dread. You briefly wondered who he looked so anxious to talk to, but the thought was quick to banish from your mind entirely when Connor prodded Roman in the shoulder and said your name.

“Okay, that’s enough from you. Y/N, can you tell him to stop? Tell him to stop.”

“Stop it, Roman. Don’t talk about your brother’s cum, you weirdo.”

Rubbing his palms together, Roman shrugged the matter away entirely. “I’m starving. Anything to eat in this shit shack, or what?”

By the time Kendall came back, the rest of you were crowded into a small booth with a dingy little light hanging a little too low over the table. There was a platter of cheesy nachos in the center, which Shiv eyed with distaste. Roman was still looking over the menus, sarcastically wondering aloud from which creature they’d clipped the wings off of.

“Who were you talking to, Ken?” you asked. “It wasn’t Frank again, was it?” 

Kendall’s eyes darted from your face down to the floor. “Uh… no. No, it was—it was Stewy.” 

Something about his demeanor screamed that he wasn’t telling the entire truth, but you kept quiet, watching him with just barely narrowed eyes. 

“Oh, great. What the fuck does he want now?” Roman hissed, peering over the crinkled lamination of the menu he was holding. 

Kendall leaned forward slightly, regarding Shiv with a pointed stare. “Actually, guys, can I… can I show you something? On the comparables. It’s actually pretty fucking intriguing.” 

Your eyebrows rose a fraction. Just a few moments ago, Kendall wasn’t at all interested in Sandi and Stewy’s pitching. What changed his mind?

Nodding in satisfaction, Shiv added, “Yeah, see? It makes you think. Maybe Dad isn’t on it like he used to be. You know, he’s being pushed around by Matsson—hell, even by Kerry. Giving shows to his girlfriend? That’s just—it’s an embarrassment!”

Loudly, Connor exclaimed, “Fuck, she’s in the East River now! She’s in the—oh. Wait, no, she’s just on the bridge.” You popped a nacho in your mouth and glanced over at Connor, who was squinting down at his phone.

“Looks like she’s going on a little trip,” you hummed. “She’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, okay, not to be dicks, Con, but is it okay if we do a little breakout chat, just the four of us? We won’t be long, like—two minutes max,” Shiv said, expression serious and unyielding.

Rolling his eyes, Roman gestured to his oldest brother. “Hey, just—fuck it. Why don’t we fold Con in?” 

“Well, he’s not on the board, so—”

“Yeah, but he has a share. If the deal falls, he loses his payout.”

An incredulous frown pulled at his lips. “Excuse me?” Connor said.

“Oh, okay, so Shiv wants to get us mixed up in some drug deal that will fuck the vote tomorrow,” Roman told him, pursing his lips in an exaggerated fashion.

Holding her hands out, Shiv shook her head. “Uh, no. All we’re aiming for is a small delay. We all want the deal to go through.”

“Right,” you said with an amused snort. “Sure.”

“I, uh… I think I agree,” said Kendall.

Roman’s eyes widened. “Oh, what the fuck? Seriously?”

 “It’s just—looking at the numbers… it’s compelling.”

With a grand scoff, Roman shook his head. “It’s compelling? Wow. You’d find a bag of peanuts more compelling, Kendall.”

You placed a hand over Roman’s jolting knee. “Rome, why don’t we just hear them out?” His eyes met yours, hesitant and conflicted. “And think—wouldn’t it be fun? Fucking Matsson in the ass?”

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that, you freak,” he scoffed, crossing his arms.

“So you guys are just gonna force Dad to grovel?” Connor asked, mouth parted in surprise. “Oh, man. How long will a renegotiation take?”

Shiv’s lips twisted downwards, though it was more of a smile than a frown. “It’s a play. More money is more money, and that’s all there is to it.”

It was then that Roman’s phone, facing upwards on the chipped table, vibrated thrice. The screen lit up with a text notification. 

Dad.

All the siblings had seen it, and Shiv rushed to angle the phone towards her. Roman slapped her hand away, yanking his phone towards his chest. Hiding it.

“What the fuck?” Shiv asked, wary. “The fuck is Dad messaging you for?”

Roman stood frozen, reminiscent of a deer in headlights. “Uh, I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him? Stupid question, Shivvy.”

Kendall stared at his younger brother blankly. “You’re not gonna read it?”

There was a brief pause. “Yeah, I’ll—I’ll read the damn thing. Sure.” A swipe of his phone, a kink to his brows. “It’s just a check-in.”

“Oh, yeah?” Shiv said, skeptical. “A check-in? Oh, yeah. Classic Dad. He just loves to check in on us, see how we’re doing.” 

Backing down, Roman fessed up, “Okay, fine, I sent him a text on his birthday. Just saying, you know, happy birthday, sorry we missed it—”

“I’m sorry, wait a minute!” Shiv exclaimed. “You texted him first?”

Roman frowned. “It was his birthday, yeah.”

“We said no contact until he apologizes!” she angrily pointed out.

“Okay, so then never?” Roman shot back, scowling.

With a tilt of your head, you said, “It was just a simple happy birthday, right? That’s harmless. Right, Roman?” You pressed your foot over his, enough so he could feel the pressure, but not enough to hurt him.

“Yeah. That was it.”

“Nuh-uh. I want to see your phone,” said the red-head. 

A flicker of panic flashed across Roman’s eyes. “Oh, really? Show me yours, then! World’s biggest WhatsApp group of people sharing pictures of your snatch. No, thank you. Fuck off, fuck you.”

“Roman, come on,” Kendall said. “We have to trust each other.”

Memories of Kendall forcefully taking Roman’s phone from you in Hungary briefly crossed your mind. You pursed your lips. He’d been hiding things from you then, who was to say he wasn’t hiding things from you now?

Relenting, Roman tossed his phone onto the table, almost hitting the platter of nachos. He was growing angrier by the second, frustrated by his siblings' shoes pressing against his spine. “Fine, take a good look. I don’t give a shit. It’s just dick pics, anyway. He’s got a real taste for ‘em now.”

You leaned over to read along with Shiv and Kendall. It looked fine to you—since it was just a simple birthday wish, but they seemed much more harsh in their critique.

“This is more than one text, Roman.” There was a crease between Shiv’s brows.

“Okay. What is it? Two, three?”

Kendall rubbed the faint stubble over his jaw. “It’s a bit warm.”

“Warm? Why, what did I say?”

“Take care.”

Scoffing, Roman’s eyes rolled up to the dingy, low-hanging light. “What was I supposed to say? Happy birthday, hope you fall down a flight of stairs, shithead!”

“I feel a little bit weird about this betrayal, if I’m being honest,” Shiv said in a steely tone. 

“Betrayal?” Roman parroted, almost offensively. “The betrayal of happy birthday, Dad. Take care!” 

“You know what?” Kendall chimed in. “I’m feeling a bit betrayed, too.”

Upset, Roman just about slammed his phone back down on the tabletop. “Wow. Great. Fucking family guilt-trip fest.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” you said, pinching the space between your brows. “It’s not illegal to say happy birthday, guys. Relax, okay?”

Connor nodded. “It’s hard. It’s been hard on everybody.”

The five of you sat in silence for a bit longer. Has it been hard? Or did it just feel like it because all of you had been so accustomed to getting everything handed over on a silver platter? 

Finally, Shiv swallowed heavily and said, “You know that he advised Tom on the divorce? Gave him a Dad trick—went and spoke to every pit bull in Manhattan and tied them up. I got Mommed.”

You frowned. So much had happened in the past few months, you’d sort of even forgotten Shiv and Tom were heading for divorce. “Tom did that? Jeez… I’m sorry, Shiv.”

Roman blew out a breath, mildly relieved that the heat was taken off of him for a moment. “I mean, there’s probably one more horrible motherfucker lawyer around somewhere, but, uhm… that sucks. I’m sorry.”

Shiv refused to meet either of your gazes. She didn’t want to be reduced to… Tom’s ex-wife. A shadow of her mother. 

“Guys, I just feel like we need to stick together,” Kendall said, firm. We should push back, and we should all be on board. We squeeze them.”

Equally level, Roman placed his hands on the table. “Okay, but, we want to do Pierce, right? We want an out?”

“Yes. But just with a bit more money,” Kendall agreed. 

“Yeah, that’s the thing—I don’t think Matsson will go up in price,” Roman argued. “He won’t! I know this, because I’ve spoken to him. I really think he might walk.”

 Good, you wanted to say, but you bit down on your tongue.

Both Shiv and Kendall began poking fun at him for not calling Matsson’s bluff.

Exasperated, Roman rubbed his knuckles along his hairline. “Okay, it just sounded like he meant it.” He didn’t look happy with the prospect of blocking the deal. He wanted to be a traitor to his Dad without being a traitor. To have his cake and eat it, too.

Shiv and Roman fell into another argument about whether or not Roman cared over conflict—that he was scared of his own Dad and wanted to back down like a coward.

Quelling his riled-up siblings, Kendall motioned for them to quiet down. “Honestly, though, guys. I think going with Sandi and Stewy is the best thing for us to do. As a team.”

Shiv nodded in agreement. “It’s a play. Buys us a couple weeks and more money.”

“He’ll get it,” Kendall said, trying to sway Rome. “It’s what Dad would do in his prime.”

And was that the goal? To try and imitate the beast to scare him off? A moth with false eyes to ward away predators?

Roman squinted at nothing in particular. Then, he angled his face to look at you. You hadn’t at all realized that your features were immobilized in uncertainty. 

“What?” Roman asked, knee knocking against yours.

“Your Dad’s going to hate us if we pull this.”

Roman laughed, high and nervous. The idea made him nauseous. “Seems like he already does.”

“No, he… he loves you. All of you. But this is… he’ll hate that he loves you, sure, that’s always been the case. But this time… he’ll hate you if you’re the reason he can’t win.”

Something sick twisted within Roman’s gut. He seemed to go all pale and wide-eyed. 

“It’s just a play, though,” Shiv said. 

“Just a play,” Roman echoed, sounding unsure. “It isn’t real?”

Kendall nodded. Shiv, too.

“Fine. Yeah, fuck it. I’m in.” Roman caved, and the two smiled at him. You squeezed his knee. 

With a sharp exhale, Connor huffed, “God damn it. God fucking damn it! You ruined it. You ruined it all.”

Roman apologized, but it seemed to fall upon deaf ears. Kendall tried to calm him down by asking his brother what he wanted to do. After all… it was supposed to be his big night before the big day.

“I wanted to get married tomorrow,” he said, cross. “I wanted to spend tonight with my family and tomorrow with Dad. I wanted to get my fucking money out. But you guys fucked it!”

Feeling mildly guilty, your other hand came up to rub Connor’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, really. You’re an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire. What can we do to make you feel better, Con?”

Several moments passed by in silence as Connor thought about it. What did he want? A giant bowl of ice cream so large you couldn’t see around it? A perfectly-tailored suit from the most expensive store he could find? A vintage bottle of whiskey and a nice book to sit with? They all sounded appealing to him.

“I would…” he finally started, “I’d like to sing one fucking song at karaoke because I’ve seen it in the movies, and nobody ever wants to go.”

Roman just about banged his head on the table. You flicked at his ear, before turning back to Connor. “Karaoke. Yeah, we can do that, Con.”

The room was illuminated with hazy shades of purples and blues, the lights hidden behind indents in the wall. It looked modern and sleek—an upscale to what was typically seen in the movies. Connor didn’t hesitate to make a beeline for the karaoke machine, fiddling with buttons and remotes and smiling to himself when he managed to get it up and working without asking for help. Shiv and Kendall wandered around cautiously. Roman was quick to toss himself onto the long, spacious couch, hanging off of the seats as if he were melting. You curled up beside him with a pleased hum, nose brushing over his lower cheek, scratchy with barely-there stubble.

There was a bit more dilly-dallying—Connor was concerned about Willa’s blue dot disappearing completely. The siblings were quick to brush him off, reassure him, tell him he wasn’t going to ever do better than Willa. The usual.

You sipped on a glass of champagne that Kendall handed you. There was more chatter—amicable and light and teasing. You poked fun at Kendall’s lame hat whilst Shiv plainly told Roman that his shoes were a size too large for his feet. That his feet were small and dainty and he would fall over if they were any smaller. More drinks, more giggling, more stories. You learned that fresh-faced college Kendall once puked on Stewy’s bed and cried at the foot of it after drinking too much. You told the siblings that you once slept with Angelina from accounting during your first year at the company, to which they responded with shocked snorts. There was a point where Roman grabbed your face and kissed you and kissed you until the rest of the siblings began faux-gagging, and Connor complained that it was like watching his siblings make out. Goddaughter-and-son incest, he’d said. 

It was fun, maybe. The closest to fun you could have with Roy siblings.

And it was gone in a second, like a candle snuffed in a hurricane. 

Logan was coming. Connor invited him because he loved him and he loved all of you and—

It hurt. Simple as that. It hurt to see the people he loved so… so torn.

The smiles melted away, and the laughter buzzed down. It was tense again. Family turned business once more. Connor finally put on a song to sing while he waited for his father to come, but your ears rang with white noise, so you didn’t quite register which song he was brokenly following along.

You were scared, you realized. Scared to face the man with the knife in his back. Roman worked his jaw and he complained some more. Not that you really heard what he said.

At some point, his phone began to ring, vibrating in his pants, pressed up against your leg. You raised a brow and scooched back so he could take it out to check. 

Logan. Dad. Of course. Roman’s hands shook, but only a little bit. Enough for you to see. Shiv grabbed it and hung up for him, not liking how long he hesitated. You stared at the black screen for a bit longer, your own fingers twitching.

Connor continued to sing. He finished three songs—maybe four—until the door creaked open. No knocks.

Colin came in first, then your godfather, then Kerry. He nodded, almost polite, with a casual greeting hanging in the air. It was eternally strange, the way Logan smiled at you. Warm, maybe. You didn’t know.

“Shit,” Roman said, almost amused, mostly… unprepared.

Chancing a glance to Shiv and Kendall, you noticed their stiff upper lips, their frozen postures. 

“Can we go somewhere else?” Logan asked, glancing around the large room. “These lights, er…”

Shiv shook her head in exasperation. A roll of her eyes. “We’re not going anywhere.”

There was little resistance to Logan. “Fine,” he easily acquiesced. With that, he took a seat in a velvet black chair, across all the siblings and you. Kerry jerked to sit next to him, which made Shiv recoil with a sneer.

“We won’t be needing you, Kerry. Thanks.”

Roman nodded. “Yeah, this here is a family fuck-fuck.”

There were a few glances around, Logan and Kerry looked at each other but neither moved. 

“Let’s get this figured out, and I can let you get back to your fun,” said Logan, ignoring them.

“Might be a wasted trip,” Kendall sardonically replied, tongue sharp. “Wanna give us a blast of New York, New York and fuck off?”

“I wanted to say something,” their father said.

Shiv retorted something else, and Kendall snickered under his breath. The buzzing in your ears grew louder.

“I guess I just wanted you there, a bit,” Logan said. “At my party.”

It was a play. Was it? Yes, of course. But if it wasn’t… 

But it was.

“Holy shit,” Kendall crooned. “Did Dad just say a feeling?”

“Well, you know. I thought maybe it would be nice,” said Logan. 

With exaggerated motions of his hands, Kendall exclaimed, “Oh, fuck! Now it’s all coming out! Oh, my God, Mr. Melodrama here! It’s like a fucking telenovela!”

Connor gestured between Kendall and his dad. “Come on, guys. He’s trying.”

Logan smiled, calm. “Y/N, dear,” he began. Your eyes snapped up to meet his and your spine seemed to grow rigid. “I had a lovely chat with your father. He was… surprised that you’re no longer holding Waystar together. Wouldn’t it be a shame, considering all the money he’s invested into the company? You’re setting millions on fire.”

The siblings all looked at you, curious. You swallowed, finding your throat painfully dry, despite all the champagne you’d been sipping prior to Logan’s arrival.

“If they expected me to stay at Waystar my entire life, they were always bound to be disappointed,” you responded, careful. “I won’t be tied down.”

A twitch of the old man’s mouth. Down or up or perhaps it hadn’t moved at all. “A shame. You worked so hard to compose acquisition branch details on Pierce just under a year ago. So much paperwork.” He shook his head. “And all of you—you knew I wanted Pierce ever since then. When I lost out, it wasn’t a good feeling.”

Fed up, Shiv finally leaned forward and hissed out, “I’m sorry, can we just cut the shit? It’s obvious why you’re here, Dad!”

Unsuspectingly, Kerry chimed, “Your father wanted to address the personal stuff and not just launch into business.”

Shiv’s jaw clicked. “Well, see, this isn’t personal, Dad. This is a business decision. This is about the money.”

Logan bobbed his head. “Look, you’re smart to ask about the money. You are. But Matsson—he won’t go there. You haven’t been around this, but I’ve got done a good deal and you’ll get enough to do whatever you want. I do ATN, you do Pierce. It’ll be a fresh start for all of us. It’ll make things better, and it starts there. All you have to do is… vote yes and support the deal.”

There was an uneasy shift next to you—Roman looked torn.

“You can separate the personal from the business,” Kerry offered. “Reset your dynamic as a family.”

Shiv snorted. “Oh, super! It’s gonna be just like how it used to—summer vacay and road trip musicals!” 

Hesitant, Roman supplied, “It just… it may be more complicated than that, dad.”

“I guess you’re still in the honeymoon phase,” Shiv told Kerry, cold and sarcastic. “Getting your own show on TV… amazing.”

The dark-haired woman glanced around, seeming to shrink further into her seat.

“No?” Roman asked, his attention piqued. Anything to latch onto to make everything feel less—tortuous. “You’re not going to be on TV now?”

Shiv laughed. “Has he fucked you on that?” 

Kendall nodded. “That’ll happen. The fucking. But congrats on losing your betrayal cherry—”

“Enough!” Logan said. It wasn’t loud, but heavy with finality. Your pulse skipped a beat, scratching down your ribcage almost painfully. Logan looked tired. “I though you’d be interested in an apology, but that’s enough.”

Incredulous, Shiv held a hand out. “Wait, what? An apology? We missed that, I think.”

Logan fixed an intense stare over all his children. “Look, I don’t do apologies. But if it means so much to you, then… sorry.”

In all your years of living, you’re not sure you’ve ever heard Logan apologize before. Was it genuine? Was it real? There was a long, terse silence. Roman stared at his father with his mouth slightly agape. You wrapped your arms around your stomach and stared at the door. Connor was looking down at his shoes. Kendall aimlessly observed Logan, finding that the apology he’d yearned for so many years of his life seemed to fall incredibly flat.

Shiv just about glared at her father in a challenging fashion, lips pursing tight. “There is nothing you could say to me now that I would ever believe.”

“This deal push could be worth a hundred mil to us, Dad,” said Kendall. “How many sorrys do we get for that?”

Kerry was starting to say something, but Roman butted in, looking incredibly troubled. “What are you actually sorry for, Dad? Are we actually doing this? Because I think, you know… seriously, what fucked all of this was when… it all happened with Mom in Italy.”

Logan averted his gaze to the carpeted ground. “Yeah, okay. I’ve had certain thoughts about that. With the best of intentions, I got the structure of the holding company, and the ownership structure of the family trust. There is a lack of clarity, and maybe you got a—”

“Amazing,” Shiv deadpanned, cutting her father off. “You sure you’re not having a seizure?”

For the first time in a very long time, Connor raised his voice at his baby sister. “He’s trying, Shiv! You said you were interested in an apology!”

Shiv glared at her father again. In a less harsh tone, she asked, “Anything else, Dad?”

There was a long pause. You wondered if Logan was haggling for words. 

“Come on, Dad,” Kendall goaded. “What are you sorry for?”

It felt like bullying, almost. In a severely twisted way. 

Kendall continued on, “Are you sorry for fucking ignoring Connor his whole life?”

“Bit strong,” protested Connor.

“Hitting Rome when he was a kid?” Kendall pointed at Roman, who shrugged.

“Oh, no—I mean, everyone hit me. I’m fucking annoying.” 

You frowned at Roman’s words, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

“Having Connor’s mom locked up?” Kendall continued on. 

Something twisted in the eldest Roy sibling’s expression. “Can we not do a whole show trial here?”

Finally, Shiv hissed out, “Okay, what about advising Tom on my divorce? Yeah? I mean, that took effort. That was above and beyond.”

“Tom asked me for advice,” said Logan. It didn’t go past everyone’s notice how he ignored all the rest of the hurtled accusations. “I recommended someone he could speak to. You weren’t around. If you’d been around, I would’ve offered you the same advice. But I can’t help you if you don’t see me.”

Shiv was hurt. It was clear as day, even if she refused to show it. She built up a wall, a front, brick by brick, and spun her hurt feelings into a low-flamed fury.

“Bottom line is, if we ask for more money, Matsson walks. I know that.”

“No!” Shiv asserted. There was something firmer in her tone this time. Angrier. “You don’t know that! You don’t know him! You don’t fucking know everything! Just because you say it doesn’t make it true! Everyone just fucking agrees with you and believes you so it becomes true—and then you can turn around and say oh! You see? I was right! But that’s just—that’s not how it is. You’re a human fucking gaslight!”

The silence that stretched across the room was thin. You were afraid to breathe, and so you bit down on your tongue.

Logan nodded and nodded. The brothers were quiet.

And so you felt compelled to say something. Sick with nerves, but compelled nonetheless. “Matsson has been fucking the company since the very start of negotiations. It’s only fair if you… bite him back.”

Logan watched you. There was something in his eyes that seemed to soften, but it was near imperceptible. Maybe you were simply seeing what you wanted to see. “I can’t take that risk,” he finally said. “Look, I just wanted to get us all together. What you kids don’t realize… this is a good deal. The world likes it. It makes sense. But deals have a habit of disappearing because pricks like Matsson get pissed off or snubbed. This… this is fucking real.”

You turned your head away and stared at the door once more. You wanted to leave. Crawl into bed and stop thinking about it all. Beside you, Roman was biting down on his thumb. A nervous habit.

“Okay, I think I can speak for everyone when I say this… go ask him for more money, Dad.” Shiv narrowed her eyes at her father.

“Why?” Logan asked. Are you not satisfied with what you already have? was the unsaid, lingering question hanging in the air.

Kendall tilted his head up. “Just good business sense. Gotta make our own pile. Right, Dad?” 

“Yeah, I just have to listen to my gut. I just gotta go with what my gut says,” Shiv piled on.

“Oh, come on. Jesus.” Logan pulled at his face, tired. In a span of five, maybe ten minutes… he seemed to age a decade. Finally, finally, the nice mask slipped. He leaned back in the velvet seat and spat out, “You’re such fucking dopes.”

Roman’s nose twitched and he shifted so he could lean further into you. You let him.

“You are not serious figures,” Logan went on. “I love you… but you are not serious people.”

His eyes were glassy for a second, but you weren’t exactly sure, because he stood up and hurriedly strode out of the karaoke room the very next second. No goodbyes. Kerry followed close behind him.

The hazy purple lights were beginning to make you nauseous. 

Everybody sat in silence for a little while longer. Let the conversation marinate. Shiv poured herself a drink and smiled into the rim, expression victorious.

“How was it for you guys?” she asked the group. “Fucking Dad, that is.”

“Amazing. Just over too soon. I could’ve kept going,” Kendall admitted.

Roman abruptly stood up, scratching the back of his head uncomfortably. He made a noise of disgust.

“Rome, we’re kidding, man,” Kendall said.

He began to pace around, like a caged animal. “No, I know. It’s fine. It’s cool.”

Connor also stood up, shrugging on his jacket. “Well… I’m going home. ‘M tired.” 

“G’night, Con,” you said. He reached over the couch to give you a one-armed hug from behind. “She’ll come home. Willa.”

“It’s fine,” Connor said. 

Kendall arched a brow. “Really?”

“Yeah.” There was a nod and a tap of his shoe. “The good thing about having a family that doesn’t love you is that you learn to live without it.”

Shiv’s face crumpled. “What? Con, that’s not—”

With a shake of his head, Connor scoffed. “You’re all chasing after Dad saying, “Oh, please, love me, love me, I need love, I need attention!””

“I think that’s the opposite of what just happened,” Shiv argued. 

“You’re needy love sponges,” Connor pressed. “And I’m a plant that grows on rocks and lives off insects that die inside of me.”

Shiv laughed, Roman huffed, and Kendall stayed silent. 

“If Willa doesn’t come back, that’s fine. ‘Cause I don’t need love. It’s like a superpower,” he said. “And if she comes back and doesn’t love me, that’s okay too. I don’t need it. Thanks for the party.” With that, he stepped out of the karaoke room.

You jolted out of your seat, ignoring Roman’s questions as to where you were going. You rushed out the door after Connor, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste.

“Connor!” you called out. The older man halted in the middle of the dimly lit hallway.

“What? I’m not looking for pity, Y/N—”

You shuffled forward the last few steps and put your hand on his elbow. “Con, I just… I wanted to say—” You shook your head and wrapped your arms around him. “You’re my brother. I know you are. And… even if you don’t need love or whatever you were on about in there… I’ll still love you anyway. Okay? I don’t need you to need my love. You’ll have it.”

There was a momentary pause before Connor jerkily moved to pat your back and hug you back. Loose, but solid.

“You’re just a kid. A kid with my kid brother,” he said once he pulled away, rubbing his palms up and down your forearms. His eyes seemed to be watery and tired, but he laughed right from his belly. “I love you, too, kid.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course.”

The two of you grinned at each other. 

“G’night, Con.” He let you go when you stepped back. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah…”  Connor nodded. “Big day.”

He walked off, and you watched him go. When you heard the door open, you turned to see Roman peeking his head out.

“Hey, Rome,” you greeted. “I love you, you know that?”

His eyes roamed over your face, and he smiled back. It was lopsided and slight. “Mmkay. Yeah, me too, fuckface. You feeling okay?” 

“Yeah. Should get home.” You craned your neck to lean forward, affectionately pecking his cheek. “You coming with?”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Eyes to the ground, then to the walls. Not on you. 

“Not… not yet. I’ll come in a bit. Just need to grab something from my place first.”

His place was barren. Everything in his place, you had in yours. You probably had more of his clothes in your closet than his own. You regarded him with a curious look, but decided not to press further.

“Okay, Rome. You have the key. Just don’t jostle me awake when you climb into bed.”

He guffawed. “I’ll sleep on the floor then, your royal majesty.” 

“Thank you.”

“I was joking. Just so you know. You prick.”

“I know. I wouldn’t want you to sleep on the floor, anyway. A waste of body heat.”

He kissed you then, surging forward to chase after your lips. You hummed in pleasant surprise, but kissed him back with just as much vigor. His lips were a darker shade of pink when he pulled away.

“See you at home, Roman.” After a final pat on his cheek, it was your turn to walk off. 

Roman wrung his hands nervously. There’d been a text to his phone while you were out talking to Connor—from his Dad. He glanced back at the door, where Shiv and Kendall were still speaking to each other inside. He rolled his shoulders and began to slowly walk out of the building, careful not to bump into you.

He was going to go pay his father a visit.

The top spot at ATN. Was it a tempting offer in it of itself or was it just tempting because his father was goading him to lick off the silver platter?

When he told you, and of course he told you, you just about blew up—in the most professional, stick-in-ass way possible—warning him not to take the offer with a strained voice and wide eyes. Not even consider it. ATN wasn’t where he wanted to be. His father was offering him a cyanide pill, obscured by a layer of fucking strawberries and cream.

The next morning, he numbly got dressed for Connor’s wedding. Got into the car after you, pinching your thigh once he clambered in next to you. His father called him on the way there, much to your dismay, telling him to come with him to meet Matsson, despite Connor’s wedding being literal hours away.

Roman turned him down. But he didn’t turn Logan away when he told Roman to fire Gerri since, apparently, he was beginning to lose faith in her. 

You were pretending not to listen to their conversation, but he knew you were. He could tell by the way your jaw seemed to twitch at the prospect of cutting Gerri loose. 

“Shit,” he breathed out once Logan hung up on him. “That’s fucking… bullshit.”

You drew your eyes away from the window, regarding him with narrowed eyes. “Don’t do it, Rome.”

Everything felt crowded and tense all of a sudden. Roman squared his shoulders defensively. There was a stinging quip on the tip of his tongue, but nothing seemed to come out other than a rather passive, “Mmh.” 

The rest of the drive to the wedding venue was silent. But your hand came to lace with his, and that made him feel just a bit better. 

Once there, about half a dozen cameras swarmed the two of you coming out of the car, taking several candid shots, much to your irritation. It was only expected, what with Connor being in the run for president and the whole wedding being a PR move, anyway. But you gave them a smile nonetheless, made a show of kissing Roman’s cheek and walked off to greet other work acquaintances and wedding guests. From the corner of your eye, you could see Roman trying to talk to Gerri with a rather terse look on his face. You tried not to pay him any mind. He was digging his own grave.

Half an hour later, the wedding planner announced for family and friends to start boarding the boat. The few businesswomen you were chatting to kissed you on the cheek and told you they’d see you soon. You waved them goodbye and made your way onto the boat. Kissed and hugged and congratulated Willa. She looked beautiful in her wedding dress, even if she didn’t appear all too happy wearing it. After a short conversation, you moved on into the boat.

It was lavishly decorated, screaming luxury and American patriotism. There was a concerning amount of blue and red strewn everywhere. They weren’t being very subtle, were they?

You made your way onto the second floor, greeted by Kendall in a pair of sunglasses.

“Hey, loser,” he said, nudging you in the side. “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” you replied, giving him a quick once over. “You look shitty. Hiding your terrible eyebags behind those shades, are you? Not doing a very good job, by the way.”

He seemed unfazed by your jab. “You excited for the wedding?”

“Neither Connor nor Willa seem too hot about it,” you told him with a mild grimace. On your way to the boat, you heard Connor yelling at his wedding planner about the cake being inadequate.

Kendall shrugged and pulled a nonchalant expression. “It’ll blow over. They’ll be fine.”

“I know. It just feels so… fake. All of it.” You jerked your head toward a frilly blue, red, and white banner. 

“Yeah, well, yours won’t be,” he said, scrutinizing you behind those ridiculous shades of his. “With Rome, I mean.”

“Wow! Yeah, well, we aren’t quite there yet, I think.” You laughed and rolled your eyes to the ceiling. “Besides, I can’t guarantee that you’re even invited to this hypothetical wedding. Who knows? I can never tell with you guys. You’re always five minutes away from ruining each other’s lives or being best friends.”

“I’ll crash your wedding if I’m not invited. It’s my baby brother, dude. I have to be there,” he said. You couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not. 

“Good to know,” came your lighthearted retort. “I’ll be sure to save a slice of cake for you.”

With that, you bumped your fist into his bicep and walked off. Then, you spotted Roman out on deck, phone in his hand. You stepped out just in time to hear him bark out, “Don’t listen to this if you don’t want to—but I’m not… I’m not, uh, totally okay with… are you kinda just being shitty with me, Dad? ‘Cause… your son is getting married, and you can’t fucking just keep expecting me to bend over for you and being cunty, so I’m just asking. Yeah—that’s the question, actually. Are you a cunt? Okay. Give me a buzz.”

There were a few seconds of silence after he hung up. You approached him from behind and slung both your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder. 

“Hey, fuckface,” he said. He sounded tired. Distressed.

“Hey,” you quietly said in reply. “I’m proud of you.”

“For calling Dad a cunt?”

“Yeah.” You huffed out a laugh. “I really am proud of you.”

Roman leaned back against you and hummed. “I just got on this boat and I already want to fucking leave.”

“That’ll break Connor’s heart.” 

“I know. I’m his favorite brother.”

“I think Shiv is his favorite brother, actually.”

The two of you laughed, and he didn’t bother arguing back. 

“Come on. I think Kendall and Shiv are looking for you,” you said, tugging him inside.

The two of you greeted the three other Roy siblings, where Connor was giving a rundown of his plan for Logan. 

“Okay, so the idea is that Dad will pop by, be dockside, and you guys will just be up here. I think that’s cleanest,” Connor told all of you.

Shiv pursed her lips and tilted her head. “Oh… okay. You really think he’s going to pop by?”

“I spoke with Kerry,” Connor said with a smile, crossing his fingers. “He’s hoping.”

With a nod of thanks, he gave you and Roman both a quick hug, before rushing back downstairs to be with his wife-to-be. 

“Well, someone’s gotta tell him,” said Shiv. “We should tell him.”

“We should,” Kendall agreed. Both you and Roman nodded. 

“Well, Shiv, you are his favorite,” you offered. 

The woman’s face regarded you as if you’d just stabbed her in the back. “No, come on—really?”

“He likes you,” Kendall insisted.

“Fine,” she sighed with slitted eyes. “I’ll be the wedding Grinch. Fuck you.”

The three of you watched her go with muted snickers. 

Then, Roman’s phone began to buzz. He fished it out of his pocket and let out an annoyed groan upon seeing Tom’s caller ID. 

“Oh my—ugh,” Roman hastily pressed on the green answer button, “Hello? Fucky-sucky brigade, how can I help you? Yeah?” 

You leaned onto the fancy leather couches next to Kendall, who was staring out the window, watching the gentle waves roil over the surface of the harbor. “Hey, Ken?”

“Mmh?”

“I’d invite you, you know.” 

Kendall’s eyes left the waters to look at you. “What?”

“To my wedding. Before I said I couldn’t guarantee you a spot—but I’d want you there.”

Something akin to gratitude flashed across his face. Before he could say anything, Roman’s panicked voice echoed over, and the both of you snapped your heads towards him.

“What?” he said into the phone. “Tom, what are you—?”

“What?” Kendall asked, immediately on his feet. “What’s happening?”

You followed suit, the two of you hovering over Roman’s sides. 

His palms grew white over the phone. “It’s—uh, Tom. Apparently Dad’s sick. Uh, what do you mean he’s sick? Sick, like—Tom? What’s going on? Are you still there?” 

“Where is he now?” you asked, brows furrowed. Roman could only shake his head, equally clueless, pulling the phone away so he could put it on speaker.

“Is he okay?” Kendall immediately asked. “Who’s with him?”

There was a lot of rustling and rummaging. It felt as if your heart had crawled its way into your throat. 

“It—it seems bad. Very, very bad. I’m so sorry to call you like this,” Tom’s voice crackled through.

“What?” you croaked. “What is it, though? Like, a fever?”

“Can you put him on the phone?” Roman asked. His voice shook and his brows were pulled tightly together. 

Again, Kendall asked the same questions, “Who’s there? Tom, what’s going on? What happened?”

“Ah—” You could practically see Tom scratching at his head. “He was short of breath and he went into the bathroom. And, well, uh, someone heard something and we were concerned, and they went in there.”

Kendall used his hands to gesticulate to nobody in particular. “They broke in?”

“They broke in, yeah. They had the key and they got in, but he’s not responsive.”

“Not responsive?” you parroted, eyes widening. This was far worse than just… sick. “Like—is he conscious?”

The brothers started to blurt out a multitude of questions, concerns exponentially heightened. 

“Is he talking? Can he talk?” Kendall asked.

“Is he breathing?” Roman’s shoulders were hunched over, as if he was trying to shrink in on himself. 

There was a brief pause. Uncomfortable and festered with fear. 

“They’re doing chest compressions,” Tom’s voice pierced through.

Your lungs seemed to contract in panic at his words. The room felt all the smaller. 

“Oh!” Roman exclaimed in a mixture of both shock and anguish. “Fuck.”

Kendall only pressed on with his queries. “Has his heart stopped?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you guys have the machine on board? The heart thing?” Roman asked.

“The defibrillator,” you said, clutching both your anxious, wringing hands to your chest. 

How had the day turned on its head so quickly?

“Is Siobhan there?” Tom’s voice was patchy and unclear. It was hard to hear over Kendall’s barrage of frustration.

“No, she’s not,” said Roman.

“Karl said that maybe he’s breathing,” Tom claimed.

Leaning forward, you hissed out, “Karl isn’t a medical professional, Tom. Who’s trained in there?”

“The, uh, the people. The attendant. I’ll put you on speaker—here’s, uh, Karl, here—”

The older man’s voice buzzed through, “That captain has been informed. The cabin staff are receiving medical advice from their service.”

Both Kendall and Roman barked questions over each other. Faintly, you heard an additional third voice in the back of the call.

“Is that Frank?” you asked. 

Tom cleared his throat. “Yeah, so—Frank thinks you guys should speak to him.  And I can—I can hold the phone near him if you’d like.”

Roman bit down on his tongue, angry. “Why does Frank think that, Tom?”

“I guess if it’s a last chance, you know. I think it’s the last chance.”

A shudder and a glare from Roman to the phone. “What the fuck do you mean, Tom?”

“You think he’s gonna die?” you whispered, eyes stinging as you stared down at the screen, watching the seconds of the call tick by.

“He’s… he’s not in good shape. They’re doing chest compressions.”

“Well, should they be doing that?” Roman just about yelled at the phone. You placed a hand on his hunched shoulder.

Frank began talking again, “They’re getting advice, they know what they’re doing. But I think you should talk to him. I’m not sure he’s breathing.”

The two both spluttered angrily. In denial, in frustration, in utter devastation.

“We just heard that he was breathing two seconds ago, Frank. You shouldn’t be doing CPR on someone who’s heart is still going! What the fuck is going on, Frank?” Kendall gritted out.

“I’ll put you by his ear,” Tom said. “I’ll put you right by him. He’ll be able to hear you if—if he can.”

If you hadn’t been so hyperfocused on the call, you would’ve realized that your entire body began to simultaneously tremble and tense, like a plank of wood caught in a hurricane. 

“Uh, you might wanna get Shiv, so she can—” 

“Yeah, we’ll—we’ll get her,” said Roman.

“Okay, I’ll put you by him now.”

“Is he okay?”

“No, Rome, he’s not okay.”

“You can speak now. Go ahead.”

There was a blistering silence. Roman gestured for Kendall to take the phone first, but he shook his head. He turned to you, but you weren’t even looking in his direction, clamoring for your own phone to try and contact Karolina. Your hands seemed not to work in coordination with your mind, because you struggled getting your phone to unlock, and then struggled even more to open up the right app to get to your contacts list.

This left Roman to speak to his maybe-dead dad on his own. He hurried around the room, as if there was going to be a corner on this wretched yacht that would make this somewhat easier to say. He ended up crouching by the end of the leather couch. 

“Hey, Dad. I, uh, hope you’re okay. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.” Was he reassuring himself or his father? “Because you’re a—you’re a monster, and you’re going to win. ‘Cause you just—you just win. That’s what you do. And you’re, uh… you’re a good man. You’re a good dad. A very good dad. Uh… you did a good job. No—no. I’m sorry, I don’t know how to do that.”

With that, Roman unceremoniously stood up and shoved his phone right into your palms, tugging away your own. “It’s your turn.”

Your shaking grew all the worse, but you put on a brave face and held it up to your face.

“Oh, uhm—hi, Uncle Logan. You, uhm… oh—I wasn’t prepared or this, you know, I would’ve… I would’ve, if I’d known, I wouldn’t have…”

It occurred to you that you managed to say absolutely nothing in the precious few seconds he had left. This sent you spiraling into another bout of anxious trembling. You only barely registered Roman’s own shaking hand on your side.

“You were so—such a big role in my life. So important. And—and, and, I really couldn’t have done anything without your help. Thank you. For everything. I… I love you, Uncle Lo. Really, I do. And I love your kids like my own siblings, and—and Rome, I’m—I love him. I promise I’ll, uh, I’ll take care of him. I just—uhm, I can’t really, there are just so many things you…”

Your nails scratched over your chest as you heaved out a shuddering breath. Realizing you couldn’t finish, you made your way over to Kendall and handed the phone to him with teary eyes.

“Okay,” Kendall said with the phone by his nose, blinking helplessly at the ground. “Hang in there. Yeah? Uhm…”

“It’ll be okay,” Roman softly whispered to him.

“It’ll be okay,” Kendall repeated into the phone. “We love you, Dad. Okay? We love you. I love you, Dad. I do. I love you, okay? Uh—and… it’s okay. Even though you fucking… I don’t know. I can’t—I can’t forgive you.”

You sniffled and wiped a stray tear with the sleeve of your dress. 

After a few final words, Kendall handed the phone back to Roman. Tom’s voice crackled through again, asking for Shiv. 

“Ken’s gonna get Shiv,” Roman said, voice small and child-like. Kendall nodded and staggered his way out of the room.

There was more commotion on the other end of the line. 

“What’s going on now?” Roman asked. 

“I, uhm—there’s, I’m not so sure—” Tom’s glitchy voice replied. “I think he’s gone, Roman.”

“What?” you asked.

“I think—I don’t know, I think there might not be a pulse, they’re not—”

A few seconds passed, with only scuffling noises on the other end. Shiv and Kendall appeared through the doorway just a minute later.

“They think he’s gone,” Roman told his sister as he handed the phone to her. “They think he’s dead.”

“What?” Shiv asked, her eyes welling up almost instantaneously. “No! I… I can’t have that.”

Tom spoke a few words to his wife, telling her that he was putting the phone back by Logan’s ear. Shiv strode away to ramble to her father in a semi-panicked fashion. She called him Dad at first, which spiraled into whisper-cries of Daddy, and angry curses intermingled with a multitude of I love yous.

You tugged at your face, aching with all the tension you were carrying. Roman’s hand was on your arm, but he left your side half a minute later to take the phone away from Shiv, who seized up with incoherent noises through blurred tears. He hugged her, but she didn’t return it, frozen on the spot.

The siblings all asked him more questions. 

“Is he okay at all?” Kendall asked.

“He’s not okay, no,” replied Tom. “He’s not.”

Shiv sucked in a shaky breath. “Is he gone? Tom?”

A brief pause.

“They say his heart stopped and his breathing stopped, too. For a while, maybe.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t mean he’s dead, medically!” Roman asserted. “Right?”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that it did mean exactly that.

“I don’t know,” came Tom’s calm voice. “They’re still doing chest compressions.”

Kendall began to order Tom around, then Frank, then Jess. Something about getting the best doctor in the world. The best airplane medicine expert, whatever that meant. He disappeared out of the room to go up to the deck. You took a seat on the couch and sank your face into your palms.

When Kendall returned, his face was solemn and set in stone. “Frank thinks he’s gone,” he said.

Roman sank down on the ground, right by your feet. Shiv took a seat next to you.

“Why didn’t you come and get me?” Shiv sniffled, looking up at her big brother. 

“I—Shiv, I did. We did,” Kendall said.

“No, but I was right out there. How long was it happening before?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m—I wasn’t thinking—” Kendall shook his head.

Roman drew in a sharp breath. “There was no time. I promise you, there was no time at all.”

Kendall took his little sister’s hand and repeated his apologies. The sight made more tears spill over your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, guys,” you hoarsely said. “He’s not even my dad.”

“No, it’s…” Roman patted your knee. “He was. He is. Kind of.”

“It’s just—on the phone Tom said that Kerry spoke to him. Quite a bit,” Shiv said, voice bitter.

“I don’t know,” said Kendall. “I don’t—we don’t know if he could hear us.”

Another sniffle. Shiv nodded a bit. “Yeah. I’m just sad, I guess.”

Roman shifted uncomfortably, looking up at his siblings and you with large, worried eyes. “Uh—do we know if he was on his phone at all? Like, if he checked his messages or anything?”

Faintly, you recalled Roman leaving a voice message for him. Right. Roman had called his father a cunt. And you’d said you were proud of him for it. Nausea pressed fervently against the inside of your stomach. Roman drew in a sharp, stressful breath.

“Rome, it’s okay,” Kendall assured him. “We’re okay. You did good.”

The words didn’t sit with you well. You did good—as if it were one last performance before the curtains closed. The circus monkey and the ringleader. 

“Yeah, I know,” he quickly replied. Roman’s expression crumpled. “I don’t know if—I just don’t know. Like, if I said… I just feel like I didn’t—did I even say I loved him?”

Kendall nodded. “I think so, yeah.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t,” Roman asserted. The grip he had on your knee tightened. “Do you know?”

“Ro, hon, I’m—” The words lodged in your throat as you reached out to brush your knuckles over his cheekbone. “He knows.”

“No, but I really don’t think I did—” Roman jerked away to lean closer to the phone Tom was calling through. “Tom, could you put me back to his ear for—ergh, fuck it. Never mind. I don’t know. Maybe just keep the line open.”

If Tom replied, you didn’t hear.

Instead, you glanced out the doorway, where you saw Connor speaking to some other wedding guests. He didn’t know.

“Oh, fuck. We need to get Connor. We need to tell him,” Roman said, following your gaze. “Can you do it, Ken? I don’t think I can. I mean, I could, I definitely could, I just—”

Kendall nodded solemnly, and stood up. Shiv offered to go with him, rising to her feet and drawing in a deep breath in a fruitless attempt to maintain her long-gone composure. 

“Thank you,” Roman said from the ground. He crossed his legs and leaned against the side of your shins. In turn, you placed your hands on his shoulders and squeezed reassuringly.

“I don’t remember the last thing I said to him,” you mumbled, voice filled with irritating tremors and warbles. “In that karaoke room. I don’t remember any of it, and I wasn’t even drunk or anything, I just—”

Roman pressed his cheek against your thigh, shutting his eyes. “I think you were okay. I don’t know. Maybe he heard us. And you have such a nice voice, y’know? Maybe it was good for him. If he heard it.”

The two of you sat in stuffy silence for a few minutes more. 

The three other siblings came to fetch the two of you sooner than you would’ve liked—whisking all of you upstairs to a more secluded room. Connor had tears in his eyes when all of you filed in, face wrought with anguish. “What happened?” he asked, sounding utterly devastated.

Roman apologized over and over again, but made no attempts to explain to him. Instead, he reached forward to grab at his oldest brother’s arm in a strange sort of semi-hug as Kendall filled Connor in on what happened.

“Well, actually, we don’t really know that he’s gone,” Roman asserted to the rest of you, drawing away from them. 

Both Kendall and Shiv began to clamor over the likelihood of Logan’s death. They seemed surprised that Roman was clinging onto such hope that he was alive. You watched Roman with such sad eyes that when he looked at you, he found himself growing even more upset.

“What?” he asked you crossly, brows drawing together. “Why are you looking at me like that? He—he could still fucking be alive! We don’t know! Are you going to trust, what, like, fucking Frank and Karl’s word on it? Don’t look at me like I’m crazy!”

“Right, well, you sound delusional, Rome,” Shiv tried telling him. You could tell she was trying to lay it easy on him and be nice, but it didn’t quite sound that way.

The siblings argued some more. Roman kept denying that Logan was dead, while Shiv gritted out that he’s gone. 

“All I’m saying is that we don’t know for sure. And—and until we do know, it’s just not a very nice thing to say, is it? So just fucking stop!” Roman yelled the last word out, and it ricocheted across the room like a bullet would. 

They all fell silent for a moment.

“Okay,” Shiv said. She looked to be on the verge of crying again. With quiet, reassuring words, Connor wrapped an arm around his little sister and let her lean against him.

“Roman,” you said, making his eyes snap to you. They were red and looked so tired. You were sure yours looked just the same. When you spread your arms as a non-verbal invite, he surged forward and buried himself into your embrace. The two of you held onto each other as if you were both lifeboats for one another in this vast sea of fucking nothing.

Kendall, disillusioned, went back to staring out the window.

“He didn’t want us together,” Roman choked out, forehead drooped onto your sternum. “He fucking—he told me to end it, and I didn’t listen, and I just never listened to him…”

Both your hands rubbed up and down his back. “I know. I know, Rome. I love you even if he didn’t want me to.”

Your words made Roman’s shoulders curl closer to his chest. Closer to you. “Fuck. Me, too, okay? Me, too.”

Half an hour later, the boat began moving away from the dock, much to all of your chagrin. 

Hugo had also come into the room, acting as a liaison. He told the lot of you that the plane-folk were starting to draft a statement to release to the news. The siblings angrily called them to ask what was going on—which did little to sway them.

Not too long after, Gerri came in to offer her condolences. Her presence made Roman all the more turbulent, and he lashed out at her, telling her to fuck off. 

Shiv asked her godmother if maybe they could stay up in the air a bit longer to give everyone some more time to think—and Roman told her to fuck off, too. At that point, you stepped in to say that it’s probably best not to delay the inevitable. Thankfully, Roman didn’t tell you to fuck off at that.

“Just to say,” Kendall said once both Hugo and Gerri hurried off to answer calls and get more information, “every single thing we say and do today… it’s all going in the memoirs, going in the fucking congressional record, it’s coming up at board meetings, it’s going in SEC filings.”

“God, Kendall,” you said, pinching the space between your brows. “Your grief is not a fucking spectacle, okay? It’s not—none of this is meant to be a performance. You can… you can be a fucking human being for once, okay?”

“No, but, listen, I’m agreeing with you,” he said, holding out a hand. “If we tell them to circle the plane around to buy us time, then some fucking rumors start up, and we get crucified for being cold-hearted, or—I don’t even know. We’re highly liable to misinterpretation right now. What we do today will always be what we did the day our father died. So I’m agreeing with you, Y/N. We shouldn’t delay the inevitable.”

Nose flaring, Shiv shook her head in a frustrated manner.

“So, you know, let’s grieve and whatever,” Kendall continued on, “but not do anything that restricts our future freedom of movement.”

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding in agreement. “Okay, Kendall. We’ll be careful.”

The siblings stepped out to discuss drafting statements themself, and you told them you’d arrange transport off the boat to the airport, where they’d be landing. 

Before you reconvened with them, however, you dropped by to see Connor one last time.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered with a frown that felt strangely childish, enveloping him in a hug. “I’m sorry your dad died, and I’m sorry I won’t be here to see you get married. Everything’s gone to shit and I hate that I can’t do anything about it.”

“It’s okay,” Connor said, rubbing your back comfortingly, not unsimilar to what you did with Roman. “It’s okay, kiddo. I appreciate you coming here to tell me.”

You pulled away, using the back of your palm to brush away your tears. “I got you, uhm—as a wedding present, I got you an oil painting kit. It’s not much, but I thought it’d be fun to try it out with you one day. I guess I just didn’t think—I thought I’d be able to give it to you after the ceremony, but… I don’t think I’ll be around. I’m sorry.”

Connor nodded, and smiled at you sadly. “It’s like you haven’t changed at all in twenty years, you know that? I feel so fuckin’ old.”

“Have a happy wedding, Con,” you told him. With that, you turned on your heel and headed off, breathing out a sigh of relief upon seeing a smaller boat right by the one you were on, ready to take you back to land.

One boat ride, one helicopter flight, and one private car later, you arrived at Teterboro Airport, where their plane touched down. Logan was announced dead at arrival. Roman balked and nearly puked up what little he’d eaten on the boat—you rubbed his back and told him everything was okay as he dry-retched nothing in the airport bathroom. There were already dozens of news reporters and journalists flooding the entrance-way for the impromptu press conference the Roy siblings were holding.

Before the sun was down, the news was spilled at the hands of Shiv. It was short and concise, over in no more than a minute. Questions, questions, and more questions—none of which were answered.

“Are we going to go see him?” Roman asked once it was all over. The plane was in view.

“Do we have to?” Kendall replied.

“I mean, he’s not going to be angry if we don’t,” Shiv replied. The rest of you smiled in silence.

Then, Kendall opened his arms, and the four of you leaned into a brief group hug. You kissed Shiv’s cheek and told her to get home safe. She nodded and took her leave. 

Roman jutted his head in the direction of the plane. “I’m gonna go see him. You coming, Kendall?” 

The oldest scuffed his shoe into the concrete pathway. “I’m gonna—I’ll watch him come down from here.”

“Okay,” said Roman. There was no surprise in his tone, but it lacked any sort of harsh judgment. 

“I’ll come with you,” you told Roman, taking his hand. “If you’re going to go see him, I’ll come with you.”

“Didn’t expect anything less,” he replied, eyes soft and sad. 

With a nod of goodbye at Kendall, the two of you left him to stand by the airport exit. 

“Do you think he would’ve been okay with us being together eventually, though?” Roman asked after a while, growing increasingly nervous as you neared the plane. Even now that his father was dead, he was still grasping for his approval.

There was a moment of contemplative silence. You wondered if you truly knew the answer to that, or if you were simply feeding into the kind-hearted caricature of a man Logan often didn’t live up to. 

“I think so,” you replied. Roman squeezed your hand. “I think he would’ve been proud of us for sticking together, even if he didn’t want us to at first. He would’ve respected you for it, eventually, because you didn’t take his shit.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You beckoned to the stairs leading up into the plane’s cabin. “You ready?”

“No.” Roman’s jaw squared. “I’m scared, I think. But I have to go see him. You don’t have to come, you know. You don't have to be so fucking good all the time. You can just leave if you want to.”

With a contemplative hum, you nodded once after barely giving his words any thought. “I know I don’t have to be here. I know it all, Rome. But I’ll come with you anyway. Anywhere you go.”

Roman raised your conjoined hands, kissed your knuckles in an appreciative manner, and led the way inside.

[i-am-vita]

At the Bathhouse

A Shanks x Ghost Rose Oc (FemReader)

👉 Masterlist

(Now in AO3 too)

Fic based on my OPLA older guysxfemreader headcanons here and certain scene from this FanaticSnail's fic.

Because when Shanks makes a sexy cameo at a bathhouse, I need to write a oneshot of Shanks getting sexy at a bathhouse.

If I said I didn't intended for this to go as NSFW as it got... I would be lying. Of course I wrote a fic with Shanks at a bathhouse with all the intention for things going NSFW. You can thank @fanaticsnail for the idea and the moodboard. Thank you so much, gurl, you inspire me so much!!!! Everybody go give her some well deserved love.

Moodboard by FanaticSnail 💞

Summary: You found yourself separated from your crew after a plan going sideways. Stranded in this little island with a bathhouse and no signal of your captain through your phone, there's exactly one person that you can always count to pick you up. Warnings: NSFW, sex in a public setting, voyeurism, some unconsensual voyeurism due to public setting. Somehow, I managed to not use the word fuck. Is it progress? Expect: That ex-turned-bestie that always appear out of air when you need him. Lovers to Friends to Friends with Benefits. Shanks gets affectionate and handsy with you being a cool pirate thief. Brief Mihawk cameo because I'm trash and need to make him suffer. Use of You not Y/N. Bad english, consistent time tenses not detected.

11-ish years ago...

If there was one person in all the Blues that you can always count to somehow be exactly where and when you needed him was Shanks.

On the rare occasions in your young adult life since you parted ways that you found yourself in a bad place, be it literally or metaphorically, he'd be at enough short distance to pick you up, also literally or metaphorically.

Like right now when you are stranded in this whatever-island after the worst job in your pirate history.

Not that you have failed. The intel you were acquiring now in your captain's hands, unlike you that had to ditch some last minute inconveniences and resorted to your only-emergency escape plan for the first time which consisted in telling your team to get the hell out of there with the catch while you took the roll of bait, found your own way out of the Marine Base and back to your crew on your own... eventually.

You didn't know it yet but this would be the job that finally gets you your current wanted poster thanks to the one knife with rose carvings that you left behind at the scene and the fact nobody was able to catch a glimpse of you, them naming you The Ghost Rose from now on.

Hence your current predicament. Having taken the first fishing boat you found that would take you to the next neighboring island and so on until you found yourself in this little rock, almost empty except for a bathhouse and some B&B's. One of those little hot spring resorts only known by enough people to keep them going.

Perfect to lay low for a few days until you could send a message to your Captain… or it would be if the damn Portable Den Den Mushi just connected your calls.

"Damn, not again." You mutter after the fifth attempt to call your crew.

You were currently in the personal room you purchased for your stay. The architecture and interior design of the building inspired by those of Wano with its minimalist wooden interiors, sliding doors and low furniture for sitting on the floor where you lay comfortably in a light bath robe while considering your options.

There was still the possibility of calling Shanks even if the odds of him being close enough to pick you up were low, he'd probably be better equipped than you to contact Captain Erik.

The ringing tone of the call finally connecting made you sigh in relief.

"Hello?" Came the familiar voice of Benn Beckman through the shell. Because there was no way that he would allow Shanks near their own Portable Den Den Mushi after THE incident from six years ago.

"Beck! You have no idea how great it is to hear your voice right now." You answered to the Redhead Pirate's First Mate.

"Little Rose! Please, tell me you’re coming back at last so I can finally retire." How the man managed to sound so defeated at his age was a mystery to anyone who wasn’t aware of Shanks' antics. Beckman had been asking you to come back since you left to sail with the Phantom Pirates arguing how much more manageable his captain was when you were around.

"Hold on there, old man. You still have plenty of time to become the grumpy grandpa." It had become an ongoing joke between you two to mock him for being the oldest and “designated dad” of the crew. Beck didn't have time to answer when you heard a little commotion on the line and the telling sound of the phone changing hands.

"Sweetheart!!!" Shanks's excited shout was so loud you could swear it reverberated in your own walls.

"Hey, dear."

Even after you had officially ended your romantic relationship years ago, it was impossible to stop the man from calling you lover pet names so you had go on with it too.

"Where's the fight, love? I'll be there in a heartbeat." You could hear several male grunts and indefinite clothing background sounds.

"Is it a bad time? I just need you to pass a message to my cap' so they know I'm fine and on the low. My Portable Den Den doesn't connect."

"More like a bath time!"

"Hey, didn't they say the mushies didn't connect with the outside?"

"You on your own? Say no more! Where are you, babe?"

"Shanks, there's no need..."

"Nonsense. Coordinates, now." You had forgotten how much you liked when your ex lover got all commanding. He was so carefree and easygoing most of the time.

"Aye, sir." You answered with a sultry voice you know always drove him crazy. "It's this little rock with a bathhouse and hot springs..." You explained and started giving him the numbers when you felt the air getting all heavy, almost electrified, with a powerful haki seeking your presence.

Oh...

You took the shell out of your ear and calmly put your Portable Den Den Mushi away before a powerful kick sent the delicate woody and paper wall away revealing the figure of one of the most infamous pirate captains in all the Blues, almost naked save for a small towel at his hips, disheveled red hair and his signature straw hat hanging from his neck at his back.

"Sweetheart!!!" Came the man’s thunderous shout for the second time. His arms outstretched, offering warmth and anticipation, eager to envelop you in an affectionate hug.

"I am not paying for that..." You said pointing to the destroyed wall.

Yep. That was Shanks, always coming out from wherever whenever you needed him, no matter the odds.

.

Five minutes later, you found yourself sitting on Shanks lap in the spring waters. He had picked you up in his arms and hasn't let you down since then. Like a kid with his favorite transitional object. But you couldn't deny that his affectionate embrace was contagious. You had missed him dearly too.

You two haven't seen each other in almost two years, since you broke up with Kuro to the everlasting joy of the redhead who had hated the guts of the young Black Cat's Captain, knowing from the beginning that the psycho could never deserve you. Shanks was still delighted in the fact it had been him who snitched the identity of the pirate captain to the Marines after his little stunt with you. Nobody messes with his friends, he thought while embracing your almost naked form over him.

It had been even more years since he had felt your skin against his and it was getting him giddy.

The rest of the crew was scattered around in different states of contentment but no one as deeply relaxed as Beck who laid floating with a towel over his eyes, completely zone out with the knowledge that he wouldn't be babysitting his captain as long as you were there. He was always in his best behavior around you; you’ve been a really big positive influence in the past, helping him mature into the man he was now and making the First Mate’s life a little more manageable. Until it was party time and Beck had to be the “designated babysitter” of his captain to prevent him from making some extravagance.

Poor man almost never got a proper break during vacation.

"So, rosie, you said you're on the low." Said Yassop perched belly up on a rock, an arm and leg in the hot water. "What've you been up to?"

"Yeah, must've been a big score. We've been dodging battleships for three days before docking here." Added Beck from his floating spot.

That made you feel better. If the Marine was still searching the waters, it means they hadn't caught the Angel of Music, Phantom Pirate’s ship.

You started telling them how things had gone a little sideways with your last infiltration and you had to resort to the only-emergency plan so your crew could get away with the intel.

Shanks smiled even more widely, proud of your abilities to get away from an entire Marine Base all by your own and without being seen. Such a long shot from the spoiled little socialite that had run away with him all those years ago.

He knew the moment he saw you standing up to a bunch of assholes at that bar that you were a wild card, a diamond in the rough wasting away in a privileged life. And when months later, Captain Erik, a seasoned and mysterious pirate captain, infamous for dealing with the most valuable information and treasures of all the Blues, the main intel dealer of Gold Roger himself, saw the same potential in you, Shanks knew he had to let you go to bloom, even if it was away from him.

And bloomed you had, not just in abilities but in beauty. Shanks could swear you got even more gorgeous every time he sees you.

"Ah, that's my girl." He murmured against your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of flowers and berries you favored, unlike the elegant roses everybody relates to you, and still make his mouth water. Your hand entangled in his red locks with your fingernails caressing his scalp while you tell your tale wasn’t helping… or was helping too much.

"So that's why you needed to send the message to..." Roux almost choked on his turkey piece when he caught his captain's stare, the only warning before he buried his face in your neck.

"Yeah, the lady at the desk said the mushis didn't receive or send signals from outside the island. Only the big tower at the beach can make outside calls..." Commented Beck in blissful ignorance that you didn't get because Shanks had started to leave a trail of kisses on your neck.

He draw his hand from your shoulder down your back, removing the towel that covered your torso, following a delicate pattern with his fingers over your skin to your side while his lips found a certain spot behind your ear that made you arch your back, almost revealing your full bosom out of the blurring water if not for his other hand wandering from your thigh to your belly and up to your chest. His big palm and long fingers enough to cover and fondle a breast.

The crew started making a hasty exit from that part of the springs.

Yassop rolled to the other side of his rock and dropped into the water with a soft splash. Meanwhile the rest of the men walked or swam away through the rocks that formed a natural barrier to the other side of the springs. Roux managed to catch Beck by his foot and started pulling him across the surface of the water. The First Mate lifted the edge of the towel on his face to give his crewmate a questioning gaze but a female moan uttering Shanks’ name was enough to make him cover his face again and let himself be dragged away, letting his captain be re-acquainted with his not-so-former lover.

“Sha… Shanks… they…”

“Gonne, babe, you know they know better.”

Oh, yeah, all of them did. When it came to their captain, all the crew knew that when he got frisky with a woman it was everybody else who had to get another room, not him. Shanks became an immovable being just living the moment. Something you learned too some weeks after meeting him and decided that you in fact wanted to be more with him. You had to get rid of your inhibitions very early in your relationship.

“So… did you hide a blade under your towel or are you that happy to see me?”

“Ecstatic, love. Let me show you how much.”

.

When Yassop had roll over his rock to get away from the image of his captain starting to frolic with his old flame (not that the sniper blame him, he knew what it was like to decide to separate from a love to fulfill a dream of your own), he didn’t expected to find himself face to face with Dracule Mihawk drilling him with his yellow gaze for splashing him in his escape.

“Why am I not surprised that it was you, noisy lowlifes, the ones behind all this scandal?” The swordsman voiced in his bored tone while removing some plugs from his ears at seeing the Redhead's Crew appearing literally from among the rocks.

He had just arrived this morning, seeking some relaxing time after 3 days of receiving calls from some lowly Marine Captain for him to go and get some thieves that had infiltrated his office and steal who knows what. Their only clue being a brief description of a ship getting away into the fog and a forgotten knife with rose carvings from some mysterious figure. The knife was new, but that ship and the fog? He had told him to just forget about his stolen goods. The Phantom Pirates were untraceable and he was in no mood to go hunting ghosts.

Mihawk’s gaze passed over the men currently occupying HIS space, finding the absence of a certain red hair individual.

“Isn’t your captain among you? It sure was his haki I felt ten minutes ago. I could use some exercise.” He said standing up and looking over the rocks.

“No, wait!”

“You don’t want to…”

Upon looking beyond, the warlord came across the image of the redhead captain in a passionate embrace with the most exquisite woman his eyes had ever seen. At that moment, Shanks took the exotic beauty by her small waist to get her out of the water and tenderly laid her onto the surface of the nearest rock with the perfect shape to support her body like an offering. Her long dark hair barely obscured the view of her glorious body. His hungry eyes traveled over golden tanned skin, from her long shapely legs to wide hips and full breasts.

Mihawk had never considered that he had a type until that same moment.

He was about to seek the face of the woman of his dreams, when she moved one of her legs expertly, using her foot to get rid of the flimsy towel around Redhead’s hips, getting Mihawk abruptly out of his reverie with an image he was certainly NOT desiring to live in his head and a strong need for a brain bleach to clean it from what he just unwilling witnessed.

He turned around hastily to find himself with the stare of the entire Redhead’s Crew going from judgemental to “told you so” looks that got immediately diverted by the death glare of their captain’s rival who decided to take his leave and left the duel for another day… or several months.

.

Half an hour later, you laid over Shanks’ wide chest, both of you floating in the warm water in postorgasmic bliss.

It had been years since you had felt this safe and sound in the arms of a lover. The level of trust and affection Shanks inspired on you never having an equal even if those feelings came from friendship and respect instead of romantic love. Your young broken heart was still too tender at that time to let yourself fall for the redhead when you met. A blessing in disguise since you’re fully aware now that Shanks isn’t someone who would settle with just one lover for a long amount of time and you both have different life goals.

“Where were you headed before all the turmoil we caused?”

“East Blue. I found this little village months ago. It’s a good place to hide and I promised I’d go back soon.” Explained Shanks remembering a certain little kid that was surely counting the days until the arrival of the Red Force. “What ‘bout you? Where’s your meeting point with old Cap’ Erik?”

“If all else failed, Oykot Kingdom.”

Shanks' grin intensified upon hearing that.

.

That evening, Benn Beckman walked to the tower at the beach to borrow their Den Den Mushi and made a call to a certain Shostakovich Eriksson and left the message of his assistant being safe and sound and that she will reunite with him in the agreed location but to don’t count on them arriving very soon.

The Redhead’s First Mate had all the intention of taking his sweet time enjoying this unexpected vacation.

.

.

.

[xxsabitoxx]

Being Sanemi’s Tsugoku

Other pillar versions (coming soon?)

A/N: it’s been a hot mother fucking minute since I’ve posted Sanemi. With Demon Slayer Sundays just a week away it’s only right that I return to my roots of posting some demon slayer content

Pink text is You — Green text is Sanemi

(Cosmo and Wanda think they slick—)

You couldn’t lie, you were initially petrified when Kagaya appointed you as Sanemi’s tsugoku

It was typical for the Hashira themselves to pick someone, usually someone they knew and trusted. Someone they could put their full faith in to fulfill their duties if it just so happen the current pillar was to lose the fight

That wasn’t the case for you. Kagaya himself appointed you for your outstanding performance and understanding of wind breathing

Needless to say, Sanemi wasn’t thrilled

“Just keep your mouth shut and maybe I won’t kill you.”

You could feel your brow twitch, you didn’t let anyone talk to you in such a tone. Wind pillar or not, you’d sooner die than be walked all over.

“Watch your tone and maybe I won’t beat your ass.”

Thus began Sanemi’s never ending torture. Torture he had to tolerate solely because Kagaya appointed you.

Hell it was likely a test at this point, put some sort of humanity in him so he wouldn’t get himself killed.

Sanemi’s training was nothing short of su!cidal, honestly by the end of the first day you were convinced he was trying to k!ll you

It consisted of training from sunrise until sunset followed by accompanying him on his patrolling. It would be a full twenty four hours until you saw your bed again.

“No wonder you look so psychotic, you don’t fucking sleep.”

He, of course, didn’t answer you. It seems he had taken his own advice to heart and decided keeping his mouth shut would save him the headache.

This intense regimen would continue for a full month, only half a day break in between so you could get some sleep.

You’d quickly learn his goal was to break you. Get you to leave the corps with your head hung low.

“Ya know, it’s kinda odd you’re so determined to get me to leave. It’s almost as if you care about me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. The corps is no place for weaklings, nothing more than demon bait at this point.”

“Ain’t that what you’d want then? People to lure the demons to you. Makes it easier than hunting them, pretending to be the prey I mean.”

Sanemi ended that conversation with a simple glare, something in his eyes that you’d never seen before. For once you let him drop it, not willing to uncover the man’s traumas against his will.

Sanemi’s behavior towards you mellowed slightly after three months of you being his tsugoku. You simply weren’t going anywhere any time soon so he didn’t think the hard ass attitude was quite necessary.

That’s not to say he started taking it easy on you… not by a long shot actually. If anything his schedule for you only got more intense. But it was different.

You could tell he was training you with the intent of keeping you alive, not scaring you out of the corps.

“I think we’ll be friends soon.” You laughed softly as you ate your lunch, sanemi was sitting a few feet away under the shade of a tree. “I don’t make friends.” It was gruff, food getting shoved into his mouth a moment later. “Okay tough guy, you’ll realize soon enough.” All you got was a nose scrunch in return.

The thing is, you were right. Sanemi should have known it would be impossible, even for him, to spend nearly every waking moment with someone and not enjoy their presence.

Around the six month mark of being his tsugoku, you found it easier to hold a conversation with him. Especially since he’d actually entertain it. Hell you’d even crack jokes with one another. It was safe to say he tolerated you now.

And not out of obligation

“I want you to leave the corps. I’m telling Master that you aren’t up to my satisfaction.” You froze, head whipping around to see if he was joking. The look on his face told you he wasn’t. “Aren’t we past this bull shit, Shinazugawa?”

Truth was, he’d gotten attached to you in some odd way. It fucking terrified him.

“You’ll do as I say, as your overseer. You have to obey my wishes.” You couldn’t quite understand why his attitude had switched, as if six months of work had suddenly never happened. “Bull shit. What the fuck happened?” He only shook his head, not able to maintain eye contact. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It wasn’t long before it turned into a full blow yelling match.

“I’ll tell Master you’re full of shit. Chances are he’ll fucking believe me, Shinazugawa.” For the first time, he was losing a battle in more ways than one. “Oh fuck off.” Was all he could muster, brain moving a mile a minute as he tried to figure out a better way to reason with you.

What had you done to him? He wanted to reason with you? That thought terrified him even worse.

In the end, all of his logic flew out the window as he uttered the very words he didn’t want to say out loud. Not because he didn’t mean them, but because he didn’t want to make things worse. He was already struggling with these new emotions, never mind making them known to you.

“I care about you a little too much to let you throw your life away in this hellish profession.”

That got you to freeze, eyes wide as you tried to gauge what exactly he meant by that statement. Silence hung between the two of you, you weren’t sure how long you both stood there in the back yard of his estate. But by the time you had gotten the courage to even make a noise, he was turning his back to you.

“Woah hold the fuck on! Don’t run away from me after saying something like that? Hell, Shinazugawa you never run from anything never mind me!”

For a moment he really wished some divine force would come down and kill him on the spot.

Yet, he steadied himself, realizing that you were right. He’d never run away from a fight, never mind being a coward with his own feelings. So he stopped, turning around to stop you in your tracks.

“I fucking care about you, what’s there to not understand?”

“That’s not where I’m confused you moron.”

He knew what you were implying, he knew what you wanted to hear and yet he found himself struggling. Being a Hashira gave him no right to admit he had feelings for you. It would only be cruel to you, especially since you were to be his successor.

“Shina—no—Sanemi. Explain yourself.”

That was his breaking point, eyes shutting as he exhaled slowly. Hearing his first name fall from your lips, this wasn’t exactly the situation he wanted to hear it for the first time. Yet it was enough to give him courage.

“I care about you, more than a friend, more than a tsugoku. There, happy?”

The shit eating grin that crept up your face was more than enough to show him that you were.

“See… I was right. I told you we’d become friends.”

“I just said I liked you more than a friend.”

“Fair enough, I guess it’s safe to say I underestimated you, master.”

“I’m still making you leave the corps.”

“Maybe if you offer me your hand in marriage I’ll consider it.”

He was starting to question why he even grew to like you in the first place. Though, the smile on your face had him mentally reminding himself to thank Kagaya for giving you to him.

[bozepomagaj]

ATINY/MOA/CARATS vs Made in Abyss was the last thing I expected and its hilarious

feel like I need to say something since twitter absolutely loves spreading misinfo and just accusing people of shit, how have you people not LEARNED your lesson yet? Since when is twitter such a trusted source, especially gossip accounts?

And before you braindead stans start calling me a d!ckrider, I promise you I do not care about these men cuz I've got better things to focus on and I'm making this because people are overreacting and it's getting annoying. It's so obvious 90% of you haven't watched the anime (and thats completely fine, I get you) and then ended up listening to someone who made stuff up and overexaggerated. I'm not here to defend the author because I hate him as much as you do and can absolutely recognize the dude is into some weird shit but saying people are ONLY interested in this series because of r@pe and p€dophilia is INSANE. So let me answer some questions as a Made an Abyss reader (not calling myself a fan because you'll catch me DEAD before you see me buying any merch or manga despite my love for the series), kpop fan second.

Does Made In Abyss contain p3d0ph1l1c themes, gore etc.?

There absolutely is because the author is a creep (refering to the nsfw however, most of the times it's very easily skippable. As someone who hates l0l1con cuz it creeps me out, I can tell you that I really didn't have a hard time skipping said scenes even in the manga which is far more explicit than the anime (Prushka asking about Bond's 'stick', Faputa looking into Regs pants, Vueko's weird comments) and sometimes, they're even added as extras (0.5 chapters) which certain sites that contain scans don't even include. I didn't even know about the existence about a few of these chapters BECAUSE they don't include them.

The OVA is a nightmare to watch and was not only unfunny but creepy as fuck especially when they try to boil down such an amazing character like Ozen into 'I like seeing little kids in pain'. Now I have no idea if this was made independently but I don't remember the author making any spin-offs that they could base this on so I can't tell you who wrote it but even then I doubt that the author minded it since the man himself had to include that Faputas behind smells like the 'Sun' so again, not here to defend him cuz he most definitely is a weirdo, no doubt about it.

Is Made in Abyss torture p*rn?

If MiA is torture p*rn then AoT is military propaganda and supports child labor, TPN is also torture p*rn, JJK promotes violence, Berserk excuses r*pe and Evangelion is also p*do bait. See how stupid that sounds? Just because an anime INCLUDES something, does not mean it necessarily supports it. Yes, r*pe is mentioned but it's not even SHOWN, and it's a cruical part of a characters backstory. The torture that happens, happens only once if we exclude Riko's 'experiment' at the very beginning of the manga. And Mitty's transformation can't even be classified as torture cuz it's a.... transformation. Prushka's death is very censored so its not like you can jack off to that anyways. Now the piss thing is something I have noticed but haven't really payed attention it because bffr why the hell would I so idk, maybe the author is trying to tell us something or the guy thinks pee pee poo poo funny🤷‍♀️.

Is there any plot besides the weird stuff?

See now this is the part that gets me most because the reason why a majority of people nowadays got into MiA in the first place is BECAUSE of the amazing plot. The world building, the mystery, the fight scenes, etc. It's amazingly drawn, nicely paced and unique in its own way. But of course, it's manga&anime and what's anime without fanservice? I already explained that in manga, said scenes can be easily skipped and the anime thankfully doesn't include a lot of these. I do have to admit thag I dropped the manga for now since the chapter where they were in a bath cuz it was another one of those 'here we go again' moments where it made me roll my eyes and just close the tab so I don't really know what's been happening recently and if things go weirder.

I'm also gonna tell you honestly that yes, the fandom is filled with sweaty dudebros itching to see these kids half naked and the author is aware of them and pondering to them because he too is one of them. But a large majority is back from when the anime originally came out and are mostly hiding on twitter so it's easy to avoid them and they've been pretty rare ever since people with actual interest in the series have begun watching it. A reason why back in the day I didn't wanna interact with the fandom at ALL was because the moment I tried to have a normal conversation about the plot and what might actually be going on, I instead get bombarded with "UWAAAA😭😭😭" and 'c*nny' comments. I also cannot defend and don't even plan on defending the fact that Faputa is pretty much naked the entire series. I get that she lives in the literal wilderness, but the very least you could do is put a cloth on her y'know. And mind you, I'm talking about the manga. The anime is a LOT more heavily censored, and from what I heard, even MORE censored in Korea.

To sum it up:

Do I think Mingi/Soobin/Woozi are p*dos cuz they watched the anime? Absolutely the fuck not. Considering Mingi is a big CSM fan, I can see why he watched Made in Abyss because I was in that same pipeline. I think some of you are going way too far with these comments, if you wanna call them weird, creepy, wanna unstan them for reading stuff like this go ahead, not gonna stop because in the end no one can but accusing people of crimes isn't funny and never will be. If they were exposed for watching shit like Kodomo no Jikan then that most definitely IS eyebrow raising. Maybe I'm slightly biased due to me only enjoying MiA for the plot so seeing people say the fans are p3d0s when the first time I watched this was when I was freshly 15.... yeah idk abt that one. Whether they liked the weird and questionable scenes, I have zero idea I'm just here to say that you can enjoy said anime without being a weirdo and you shouldn't begin jumping to conclusions and start calling people straight up criminals. If anyone wants to have a productive conversation and ask questions abt said anime cuz I doubt you're gonna go watch an anime over a Twitter drama, go ahead and ask. If you wanna insult me and call me a d!ckrider then go ahead and do that too, who am I to stop you?

[dnphobe]

i am so deeply fascinated by the specific culture of internet fame and the conflation of the brand and the personal that happens as the result of a form of fame uniquely reliant on (perceived) interpersonal connection rather than a specific professional output. and dan and phil are one of the only not-deeply-depressing examples bc they have semi-successfully escaped their original personas while still retaining boundaries with their audience. the straight man/fool schtick is still a part of their dynamic (bert and ernie fr) but they're able to be so tongue in cheek about it at this stage it's very interesting to me

it's like. such a specific thing. because to equate dan and phil to comediens (the closest comparison i can find to their careers but from traditional media. or even radio personalities (something they actually were for years)....i don't know anything about those people's personal lives, at least not until there's a scandal that breaks everyone's view of them because it doesn't match with their stage personas.

but dan and phil's jobs, and the majority of online public figures, pretty much Require some degree of personalisation. there's possibilities for that Not to happen, like with people who Just post short films, or even the comparatively more recent rise of video essayists (and before that commentary youtubers) where the focus is very much on a Topic. but the very First youtuber boom (compared to youtube Video boom) was very much. person sits in front of camera and tells you about their life. and that's what those youtubers did. except in all the ways they didn't both because they had to be entertaining and many Real things are simply...not entertaining or interesting to people who don't know you. so you exaggerate who you are and stretch the truth of the stories you tell. and second of all because...who Wants strangers to know them personally? i don't. there's things my closest friends don't know about me. because i don't Feel like sharing those things (i will clarify here i am a painfully private person who hates being perceived for no real reason. but i'm sure Everyone goes through this to some degree.

and YES. dan and phil have indeed semi-successfully escaped those personas and i feel like there's a lot of youtubers we can't say that about. like yes their audience isn't as big as it used to be, but i feel like next to none of that is because of people disliking the shedding of persona. i largely put it down to the following things: the passage of time. all 'celebrities' level of fame fluctuates, largely with a rise then fall, but potential for a rise again; tied to the passage of time many people consider dan and phil to be a part of their 'cringy' teenhood and haven't given their newer eras a chance due to their own internalised shame, and; yeah, a Large aspect of the phandom was the Mystery. Are they Gay, are they Together, Why won't they Tell us they are Gay and Together. then they told us they're gay and told us they're Not gonna tell us concretely they're together. I don't LIKE admitting this because those of us here are like. here for more than 'phan' (or out of genuine appreciation for their relationship rather than treating it as something to get to the Bottom of), but this Is proven by the numbers their click bait videos did.

that was a a tangent. now i am going to go on another one and theorize on Why dan and phil have gotten through their rebranding(s) largely unscathed:

so first of all the parasocialisation or whatever you want to call it in the fandom was. Always more intense than even many other similar fanbases. except it wasn't i Feel like i know you from your on screen persona. it was i Feel like i know you Past your persona and i know this persona isn't You. which makes us sound tinhat as hell, like oh we know you Better than the things you show us? except we were right (phannie mantra tbh). like there's a reason people were fighting tooth and nail for phil to say 'fuck' for so long and it's not because we were interested in seeing him be something different than he was, but because we were perfectly aware he was a man around the age of 30 who can and does say swears and we wanted him to be Him with us. in many ways we Always wanted them to shed the personas.

second of all, they timed shedding their personas Very well. they started doing it after tatinof, which, while many of us were still young we were getting Older and changing a lot ourselves. so we were adjusted to change in the way we wouldn't have been before. and they dropped it even more Post coming out, and, i mean, how are you gonna be mad about that? their sexuality is in a way very tangled up in the personas, and as a largely LGBT+ fandom we wanted them to be able to express this part of them they've been holding back freely, and if that comes with dropping Other facades then, well, the closet is a hell of a drug. like. of Course they are going to change after a Big Change. which is another thing. they always Communicated they were about to change. whether that's dan making a whole video on a rebrand and changing his hair, or post-baking universe, or post-coming out.

but mostly i think it's this: dan and phil CULTIVATED their audience. they learned not to surprise us with the backlash from tabinof's sudden announcement and then would pepper in hints for any project and any change months-years in advance. and if you didn't like the hints you were getting? you could leave. only here for the mystery? here's the line of what you're gonna get, you can leave. but the people who stayed are people who Stayed. they have a staying power where it wasn't just...trading in one group of kids for another when the first group ages out, or being left to flounder after the first group ages out. and the second they stopped having a young audience, they stopped trying to Appeal to a young audience when they stopped having one, locking those doors. and i think that maturing with us was very important bc look if they Were still in those 2015 personas? i wouldn't be here. i'd be like...thanks but i am too old for this. so, conversely to everything, i think shedding those personas was, in a way, only BENEFICIAL to them

does any of this makes sense lmao

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Demon!Eddie part 4

Premise

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

# hype's demon!Eddie fic

Because, see, that is usually what it boils down to. If you do not count the teenagers and college kids who do it out of sheer curiosity or a test of courage, people who summon a demon are usually pretty damn desperate. You don’t bargain with the creatures of hell for shits and giggles. He’s seen all sorts in his time on the job. The people who have lost loved ones and would do anything to speak to them, to see their face one more time. Those who are being eaten alive by some fatal illness and just want to live for a few more years, just long enough to see their kids grow up or make sure their spouse is taken care of. Those are the harder cases, because even after all those years, their anguish still makes something deep inside of him stir, something that he should have killed and buried long ago. 

But somehow, he doubts that Richard and Charlotte Harrington are like that. 

He’s proven correct only a second later, when Richard takes a deep breath and speaks. 

“My company is struggling with the economic crisis. Stocks are failing, our customers are running away, and … and we will lose everything.” One of his hands finally lets go of the old tome to sweep their surroundings in an all-encompassing gesture. The expensive furniture, the shiny floors and finishings, the lamp-lit patio. “I can’t let that happen.” 

Of fucking course he can’t. God forbid he lose his bigass mansion and pool, the shiny car that's sure to be parked in the pristine driveway outside. 

“The good old money, fame and fortune package,” he nods sagely. “You got it.” 

There’s a beat of silence. 

“Really?” asks Charlotte. Her face is weary and she is slowly starting to inch around her armchair. Like an animal considering whether or not to take a bait. “You can do that? Just like that?” 

He shrugs, unimpressed, makes a show of inspecting the rings on his fingers for specks of dirt. 

“Sure can. I was hoping for something more creative, in all honesty, but who am I to judge your hearts’ deepest desires, eh? I’ll set you up with more riches than you can spend in this lifetime, no problemo. If the compensation is right, that is …” 

When he looks up, their eyes are shining with barely concealed greed, just like he knew they would. Humans are so dull, really. Tempt them with a shiny treat and they'll be falling over their own feet in their haste to stumble into their own doom. 

"Of course," Richard says. "I'm a businessman, I don't expect to get things for free. What amount would you-" 

"I'm not after your money, you silly man." His smile is wide and feral and the hollow where his heart should be thrums with delight at the flash of fear in their eyes. "No, I trade in commodities far more precious than that."

Richard's brow twitches impatiently. 

"Well then," he growls. "What do you want?" 

Part 5

[novantinuum]

Which one is knowing, loving, being? Is that one about the blorbo Steven?

Yessss ahahah, this is the one with the Gem Steven design I won't shut up about on discord XD

(thank you for taking my bait and asking me about this fiUSHKFNSUGJH my evil plan worked)

E eeeeee *cracks knuckles* time to RAMBLE! I am so excited about this one, lmaooo. If you're wondering where all my "Crack the Paragon update progress" energy went these past few months, I am so sorry besties- but it got funneled to this project instead. I need to finish this goddamn fic by the end of the year like I need air.

The tl;dr of it all is that this story is my adult human!Steven/gem!Steven/Connie propaganda piece, and also a place to explore my personal take on how Steven works like,,, biologically,,, as a bizarre hybrid of two beings who are fused but also Not Really. Certainly not in the way fusion works for OTHER people.

Mind you, this fic is very NSFW, as will be the snippit I share- so the rest of my rambles will go under a cut. You have been warned.

Okay, so the broad strokes. This one's gonna be 4 chapters-

Chapter one will focus on a recently married 23 yr old Steven heading out to Rose's Room so he can work through some mental bullshit regarding the split he experienced as a kid. That trauma still lingers all these years later, and there's still so much he doesn't fully understand about... about what happened. About being outright cleaved in two. He ends up having the Room conjure a cloud version of his Gem half- the most unfamiliar and alien one of the two, to him- so he can try and talk out his confusions.

Chapter two features Steven nosediving into an obsession over an impulsive kiss he shared with that friggin' cloud version of his Gem half, and one thing kinda just leads to another, and well- said obsession ends with his component halves briefly split apart so they can fuckin' bang to work through whatever crunchy ass emotions they've got all stewed up in there. Progress wise, I am at this part of the fic right now, and I am having a lot of fun making this segment as "emotions and stimuli all mixed together" and intentionally confusing as I can. I am taking the depiction of "split POV" we had in Change Your Mind VERY seriously and literally, because I haven't seen too many writers dare to try.

Chapter three is mostly like, an interlude chapter- it's the aftermath of chapter two, where a confused and sheepish Steven opens up to his wife Connie about what he just experienced. In my head, my version of Steven is VERY demisexual, so he's like... just as "huh" as anyone else about what just took place. He and Connie talk shit out, and then Connie is basically like "baby. sweetheart. love of my life. why the HELL would you rip out your own gem like that, and MORE IMPORTANTLY, why would you ever do that when i'm not here to help you if things went wrong??" By the end of the convo though, Steven extends an open invitation for Connie to join in at some point and enjoy some intimacy as the three of them, both of his component halves and her.

Chapter four is entirely about that precise encounter, both the planning and the actual sex. The broad purpose I have in mind here is to showcase how such an encounter is something that's innately healing for them as a couple, in the way they get to re-contextualize this scenario in tones of love and trust and willful choice... as opposed to the horrid experience of being ripped apart by another's hand. I also just want them to get WEIRD about it, because like. Come on. Steven's half-alien. He (and the organic and Gem who combine to MAKE him) deserves to be weird about himself and the way he interacts with his own sexuality. And you just KNOW Connie would be into that. There is a lot of genital shapeshifting here, and they have a fucking great time.

I have overtly had the extremely general sketch of this idea floating around in my head since 2019, but never had the guts to actually tackle it until now. Now, though... I've actually gotten some practice with writing smut and feel confident in my ability to swing these scenes in the way I envision them, AND I finally have a circle of people who are down to talk about Steven being really goddamn weird about himself lmafo. Like, it's 2024, I'm allowed to ship selfcest if I want, fuck you.

But yes, chapter 1 is already done at 5.3K words, and I've got a solid 7.4K on chapter 2 (and rising.) For my actual WIP share, here is a snippit I recently wrote for chapter 4, working ahead a bit-

“So this is your idea of a big finale, huh?” he says with an impish smirk as he reads the last item on the list, a healthy dose of humor lightening his words. “Both of them fucking like rabid animals in heat as you merely lounge on the bed and watch?” “Oh, shut up,” she bites back, unable to even look her dear husband in the eye as she clunks her head down on the kitchen table, her cheeks burning like she’s destined to crumble to cinders amidst her own personal inferno of runaway lust. But Steven, damn that ridiculous man, won’t let her live this down. Ugh. Of course he wouldn’t. “Now, tell me… how long have you been secretly dreaming of this scenario?” She groans, mumbling her shameful little response straight into the table mat. “Only like… every other night since I saw you fall apart…” His rumbly chuckle— brimming with unquestioned warmth and just a tinge of bashfulness at the sheer risqué inanity of this never-before-spoken revelation— rings loud and clear, coating the whole room in its dense, chocolatey tenor. “What?” Connie whines as she snaps upright, her hands fidgeting on the table in the throes of such excruciating embarrassment. “What exactly’s so funny about that? I’m being very brave and vulnerable about this, you know!” He raises a placating hand, pushing himself through the final notes of his laughter before moving to respond. “Sorry, sorry, I promise I’m not making fun, it’s just— I guess you never really struck me as the, uh… the voyeuristic type?” “Does that… bother you?” she frowns, tilting her head a little. “The idea of me just… watching? I— it’s only a suggestion, we can always take it off, if you—” “No, I’m okay with it. Depending on how we set things up, I think it could be pretty hot. In fact…” Steven grabs for a pencil, and— waggling his eyebrows at her— begins to write one last line on their collective beat sheet. “I actually have a little idea of my own that I think would be fun to try out during this…”

[illusioninfnty]

Outlast: Chapter Nine (Sam Giddings x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.1K

4:07

Sam was usually the one that was put together, the one that everyone could rely on, but when it came to you, she was stressed out beyond repair.

She bites her nails as she anxiously awaits your return. She wasn’t a big fan of this idea—leaving Josh outside—anyway, and your being purposely vague was making it worse.

She knew you were hiding something, and as soon as you got back to the safety of the lodge she was going to wring it out of you.

Sam ignores Ashley’s whines behind her as she begins to pace back and forth, deep in her thoughts. She mentally checks over all of the events that have happened tonight.

Chased by a psycho who was actually their friend, and apparently another of their friends is dead and two more are still somewhere out in the woods—

Sam’s thoughts are cut off by a sob escaping Ashley’s lips.

She sighs. “Ash, honey,” Sam approaches Ashley’s shivering form, placing each hand on the other girl’s shoulders and rubs her thumbs along them in an attempt to calm her. “They’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. Okay? Just hang tight. Chris, Tex, and Mike will be back soon and we can figure out a plan.”

“I’m sorry,” Ash sobs, dropping her head in her hands. “It’s just—what the fuck is happening?”

Before Sam can respond, a sharp knock on the lodge door interrupts, drawing both girls’ attention to it. Sam turns back to Ashley, patting her arm. “See? Perfect timing. That’s probably them.” She moves to unlock and open the door, but her smile slowly vanishes as she sees only two people in front of her—and her girlfriend isn’t one of them.

“Where’s Tex.” It’s more of a statement than a question, and Chris awkwardly shuffles away from Sam and closer towards Ashley as Sam glares up at Mike.

“She wanted to stay,” he replies. 

Sam crosses her arms and her stare hardens even more.

Mike rolls his eyes. “Look, I tried to get her to come back, but you know how she gets.”

Aggravation seeps from Sam as she huffs out a quick fine towards Mike and turns away from the rest of the group.

God, why couldn’t you care about your own safety for once? You were really stressing her out.

And here she was supposed to be the adventurous one.

Sam doesn’t have much more time to think about what you’re up to when a banging on the door sounds.

A faint let me in! can be heard and the voice is without a doubt Emily.

Chris is the first to reach the door, opening it for Emily as she falls inside.

“Shut the door! Oh my God, shut the door!” she yells out, scooting as far as possible as she can away from it.

They guide her all to the Great Room, sitting her on one of the couches as she tries to compose herself.

“I didn’t think I’d make it,” she mutters.

“Em, are you okay?” Chris asks.

“The hell was that?” Mike pipes in.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” Ashley whispers.

“Guys!” Sam cuts in. “Let’s give her some space, okay?”

The three stop, and the pause allows Emily to continue.

“There was something out there!” She cries. “Like, something bad.”

Chris furrows his eyebrows. “Like what?”

Sam sighs. “Em, relax...it was Josh. It was all Josh.”

“That issue’s been fixed,” Mike adds in from behind Sam, and she glares back up at him.

“No, no. Guys, you’re not listening!” Emily yells out, frustration evident in her voice. “There’s something else out there. Something really bad. Like…a monster.”

4:18

The ropes around Josh are just nearly untied when the unmistakable screech of the creature—of the Wendigo—fills your ears.

And it’s not very far away.

“Oh, fuck,” you mutter.

You take in your surroundings. The shed is almost entirely one big open space, not giving you many places to hide. Josh is clearly still out of it, uttering random phrases that are unintelligible to you. He keeps swaying and squirming, and you know he’ll be instant bait for the Wendigo.

“I’m sorry, Josh.” You wince, both at what’s about to come and the pounding headache that still ruminates inside you.

“Huh?—”

You wind your fist back and knock Josh out with one swift punch.

“It’s for your own good,” you say, hoping he can hear you, but also for your own comfort.

You get to work quickly. Josh is a lot heavier than you expected, especially with the stuffed overalls he’s still wearing weighing him down. You maneuver your arms through his as you try to pull him to the side, somewhere out of the open so the Wendigo doesn’t see him. But the rustling that you hear causes you to drop him quickly and find your own corner to hide from the creature that had just entered the shed.

You stay as still as you can, holding your breath as the Wendigo crawls into the shed, its head swiveling back and forth. Josh’s body is still laying on display, and you fear that the Wendigo will take him, even if he is unconscious.

When the Wendigo turns its head away from where you hide against a small pile of junk, you slowly reach into your waistband for your gun. When your hand hits nothing, you mentally curse. Once again, another thing you desperately needed that you left at the lodge.

You can only watch helplessly as the Wendigo snatches up Josh’s body with ease.

But a glimpse of black on the Wendigo’s wrinkly, leathered shoulder has you doing a double take.

It was unmistakably that of a tattoo. One in the shape of the butterfly. The same design of your friend’s tattoo, your friend that you lost a year ago.

Hannah?

4:30

You’ve already been waiting a good couple of minutes when you hear the crunch of snow outside, alerting you to someone out there. You listen closely, and there are two things you notice. One, there are definitely two pairs of footsteps, and two, those are definitely humans—not a Wendigo.

“Fucking damn,” you mutter as you stand up from your crouched position, trying to go through as many possible plans you can in a couple of seconds to try to save who was out there. But what could you possibly do with no weapon on you?

You didn’t know who would be coming out here right now. Mike and Chris surely would’ve told the others that you voluntarily hung back to keep an eye on Josh.

Was it the two of them, back to retrieve you for some reason? Or—and it better not be—Sam coming out here, wanting to see you?

You tug at the roots of your hair in frustration, and soon you can hear the voice of Chris just outside the closed doors.

“Here!”

The doors swing open carelessly slamming against the walls, and it takes all of the power in you not to run up over there and throttle Chris.

His eyes widen as he sees the empty stool that Josh was once sitting on, and you jump out of your hiding spot before he has a chance to speak again.

You raise a finger to your lips and your eyes widen sternly, indicating to Chris that he needed to shut the fuck up. As you approach, you’re startled to see that the person with Chris is someone you don’t recognize. It’s an older man, and by the amount of equipment he has on, he’s someone who’s been hardened by this environment, not someone who was called here to save you all.

Someone who definitely knows about the Wendigos and the curse upon Blackwood Mountain.

There’s a glint of familiarity in his good eye as he gazes upon you, almost as if he knows of your knowledge, of all that your parents have told you. Does he know them?

You can’t even ask him before Chris interrupts.

“Where’s Josh?”

“Shut it!” You hiss, your tone much quieter than his. “He’s gone. We can’t leave here yet. It’s not safe.”

Chris ignores you and shakes his head stubbornly. “No, we need to go back and warn the others.” He turns to leave the shed, and the strange man follows, likely trying to pull him back in. But Chris stumbles back into the snow, the man right on his heels. You stay back in the safety of the shed, lingering as you hope the man can convince Chris to get back in.

But within seconds, the rustle of the trees causes the blood to rush from your face. You know the Wendigo is very near, and it is definitely not happy.

You see the man gesture for Chris to stay still, and all seems to be going well until the Wendigo jumps right in front of the two.

“Run! Go! Now, now!” The man yells at Chris, and he himself only gets a few steps forward until the Wendigo nimbly darts across the area, a gangly arm outspread as it slashes the man’s throat with ease.

He goes slack and his body drops to his knees, his head detached from his shoulders as the now detached part rolls away from the owner, and closer to you.

You wince as you turn your head away from the unseemly sight, catching as Chris clumsily raises the shotgun in his hands and aims it at the Wendigo that is now poised to jump and attack him. His shot miraculously hits, and the Wendigo goes tumbling back.

“Oh, shit!” Chris stumbles backwards, falling into the snow, but he eventually gets up and runs away, disappearing into the forest as the Wendigo chases after him.

Hurriedly, you run out of the shed and over the man’s body when the Wendigo is a safe distance away. You scour his person for anything that would be of use to you; you immediately go for his flamethrower, strapping it securely around yourself. You notice a flask on him and take a quick swig before placing it back where it came from.

Now armed, you follow the path that Chris took back to lodge. You can only hope that you make it back in time to help him, but the unexpected weight of the flamethrower has you slowing down as you struggle between both it and the weight of the heavy snow on your feet.

4:43

It takes longer than you expected to make it back to the lodge, and the sight that greets you is not a pretty one. The Wendigo is nowhere in sight, but neither is Chris’s body—only his head remains. 

You inhale shakily as you see the furious red of his blood stain the pure white snow beneath it. You run over and see Ashley standing in front of the door, one palm flat against the glass and another covering her mouth as she cries.

As you approach the disturbing scene, you have to avert your eyes as you can feel the tears pooling up. If you were just a minute faster, you could have saved him.

Mike appears from behind Ash, pulling her back as he quickly unlocks the door for you. He grabs your arm and pulls you inside, shutting the door behind you.

“Come on, we gotta get down to the basement. Now!” He ushers Ashley ahead and you follow the two behind, clinging to the flamethrower like a lifeline.

“What the fuck happened?” You ask them both, and you don’t even try to hide the anger in your tone. “Why the fuck did he leave the lodge?”

Ashley shuffles ahead down the stairs as Mike turns to you, and you’re startled by the pure anger in his eyes. “He told us everything,” he says, “and I have a good feeling I know what you’ve been hiding from us.”

You can feel all the color drain from your face and you feel utterly exposed under Mike’s gaze despite the many layers that cover you. There was no way out of this one. If that man knew just as much as your parents did and he told all of your friends all of what really lingered beneath the depths of Blackwood Mountain, you truly had nothing to hide anymore—your secrets were all exposed for them to know.

This was really not the way you wanted it all to turn out, but it seems as though the truth always found its way out, even if you weren’t ever ready for it.

It was time to fess up to your friends, and it was time to save them, and fast.

Character Traits: 

Honest: 4/10 

Charitable: 9/10 

Funny: 4/10  

Brave: 7/10 ↓

Romantic: 7/10 

Curious: 5/10 

Relationship Status:

Ashley: 6/10 

Chris: 7/10

Emily: 5/10

Jess: 3/10 

Josh: 7/10 

Matt: 7/10 

Mike: 5/10 ↓

Sam: 10/10

Chapter Eight || Chapter Ten

[artofchira]

Chira can you share all your Hamlet thoughts/feelings/hot takes/headcanons because it's also my favourite and I love hearing what people have to say about it. It's one of the things I can't shut up about. Could talk for hours!!!!!

Here I will copy/paste straight out of discord the last time I went off about my opinions on Hamlet to a friend:

I have no idea how Hamlet makes sense to people if he wasn't young (16-17, 21 tops), because everything he's about is this kid who is incredibly overwhelmed with the knowledge that his father has been murdered but he also has literally fucking no one to grieve that with, because he can't trust anyone. And it's not as simple as accusing his uncle, no one would believe it, least of all his mother.

So of course he gets it in his head that the only real vindication and closure he can get is to somehow force people to see the truth for themselves and believe it as a way of finding some kind of freedom from his burden. And he's a little too smart for his own good because he manages to get by with being completely irony poisoned and making sure no one gets a clear read on him, but at the same time he gets so irony poisoned that people either credit him with being a 9D chess master or losing insincerity to himself.

like, I remember early on that love letter he sends Ophelia that everyone remembers -- Doubt that the stars are fire, etc etc

That one.

Out of context it sounds extremely romantic, but in context the scene is Ophelia's dad is reading out the entirety of Hamlet's letter to Ophelia to his uncle and like half the court, and they're all bagging on him for being so bad at poetry. And hell Hamlet drops the rhapsodizing halfway through the letter to go "yeah yeah I know I'm bad at it but don't think for a second I don't love you all right? you're the most important person to me"

and if I remember correctly he slips in a line where's like, no matter what happens don't ever think I don't

So later on when Ophelia's dead and Hamlet's told about it and all his friends are like "come on why are you pretending you care, you were never there and you bullied her" and Hamlet loses his shit in this big monologue about how he loved her with the strength of a thousand suns and whatnot

But by then it's supposed to be like, who are you trying to convince, them or yourself?

And I think that on its own is pretty dense interpretation, but I personally would go so far to say leaving it there still assumes that Hamlet was insincere to begin with, or lost his sincerity because people look back on that letter to Ophelia like

he was writing it to Ophelia

so her dad would read it

so then his uncle would hear it

and they'd all believe some other bait trap on how to fool them

like some master chess move

when, like, no one actually considers the more obvious option:

That he was perfectly sincere in that letter, that he not at all expected Ophelia to give it to her father, and that he actually was just that bad at poetry (not fake being bad, actually bad) and trying to tell her to trust him through what's gonna be a real rough time and to not believe what he says to her when he's acting all weird to people

Which makes Ophelia failing to trust him and kill herself even sadder because Hamlet's rage monologue in response to it would kind of then look more like... Count of Monte Cristo's moment of realizing he fucking went too far and 'what have I done' thing in chasing his ambitions

Like, it involved a casualty of someone who wasn't supposed to be in the crossfire, but furthermore it happens to be the girl he adores and he's the one that kind of gaslit her into it.

That's more of a kid that's way in over his head and realized he fucked up, and makes more emotional sense than some guy trying to act like a whacky mastermind to me

that's basically it. Everyone looks at that letter being like "aha he was fake being bad at poetry to make everyone just think he's a morose teen with a crush" kind of thing but like…. being a teen with a crush is what he would be

I don't understand people treating hamlet like he doesn't have emotional consequences for himself instead of just being a depressive vengeance obsessive teenager spiralling out of control

that he's trying for something and fucking failing at it despite how smart he is at it

because he's a kid who feels alone and can't trust anyone with why he feels alone, and this is the best way he knows to get people to actually understand what he's dealing with

since everyone's like "what's wrong hamlet!!!" acting really worried and fussy over him being depressed and he won't fucking say

it just makes like… more reasonable sense as a human person to view it that way honestly, at least to me personally

[olderthannetfic]

People going to you to say they didn't like a book instead of just posting that in their own blog and blocking the rabid fans is so fucking sad to me. Is this where we're at? Instead of blocking the sea of lost teens and 20-somethings in the dark academia tag who try to use "dark academia" as a substitute for having to develop their own interests and hobbies, we're now going to whisper on anon, "I don't like this one book"? That's how scared of negative interaction people are? It's the dark academia fandom. They're morons. They don't even argue with you that The Secret History is good, they reply with your post quoted and emojis inserted inbetween every sentence and think they're big smarty smart-smarts who showed you, or they say you didn't get it. "The fandom is absolutely insane" by what metric? Speaking as someone who's been sent suicide bait, death threats, rape threats, pictures of dead animals, Holocaust pics and actual CSEM by other fandoms, if you're too afraid of someone replying, "wow lmao ur not smart like us u no get it" or spamming your original post's text with emojis, maybe you're not old enough to be on tumblr or be reading a book aimed at adults.

The fact that people are now so afraid of pushback that they won't even say they dislike something off anon is honestly really pathetic. This is like people on Reddit who say, "I wouldn't say this if I weren't deleting my account later today, but I don't like MCU movies." It's the same vibe and I have the same question: you know you can just block people if they cry about shit you say, right? I got sent a dead rat once by a Yandere Simulator fan and the police + a restraining order is basically blocking but for RL, but most people in the fandom for The Secret History aren't going to actually interact with another person. They don't even usually bother to write fic or make art for it, they just repost quotes from it with some pics they swiped off of Pinterest for it.

Those are the people who you're so afraid of that you can't even say, "I don't like a book" lest they hurt you. You're afraid of Pinterest moodboard makers who ask things like, "what religion is the most dark academia? I want to convert to that" with a straight face who think wearing a white button-down shirt and brown pants makes them the embodiment of wealth and class and quiet luxury.

As someone who's actually had interactions with crazy fans IRL - especially Star Wars fans, as they're almost all frothing at the mouth to rant about how much they hate Star Wars - I am happy to report that this is a survivable thing and not one you need to be so afraid of that you don't dare mention it for fear of backlash.

Speak freely. Block people. Move on. Their tears are embarrassing for them, not you.

--

I spent some time in anon spaces, and it felt like a nice break at the time... but I have to say, I really notice the difference now that I'm findable again. For all the shit that comes my way, a hell of a lot of people have tried to befriend me over the last few years. I wouldn't have met any of them if I hadn't been visible.

[skkpaws]

rant but i feel like the fandom’s whole issue with “death baits” and the obsession with a character dying is a little odd. (open to continue :3 , manga spoilers)

first , i just feel like with most of the “death baits” (i keep quoting it because some of them i don’t consider real death baits but more moments where you just question the status of the character. ‘are they alive or dead? both a very possible’ but i digress) are either a little obvious simply because they’d be generally bad endings for those characters.

sure , sometimes characters die and there isn’t some world changing impact or affect on the story or characters. but especially since there hasn’t be really any main character deaths, including ones without a real purpose just feels cheap to me, for example dazai’s.

as for fyodor , having a villain that has always been in the background or as the mastermind for years be killed off without a real explanation of his character such as his abilities , his true motivations and where they come from or anything about his past would be such a waste of character in my opinion.

and sometimes ppl are just dramatic with what they call a death bait. no , fukuchi was not “death baited” he’s still heavily injured and would have liked died eventually even if fyodor didn’t show up. it’s not to crazy for him to not die immediately to a single stab, and i don’t think giving him one final comment to show his desires and be willing to sacrifice himself to protect the others hurt the narrative at all (also .. he’s probably dead now)

now we have bram likely dead and it still seems like that wasn’t enough for people? i’m not 100% sure, maybe i’m misjudging but from my point of view it feels like the fandom wants someone from the main cast dead which i just haven’t seen any moments where that would benefit the story. i get the idea of having stakes and consequences but it’s always conditional for the fandom. it has to be a character that they’re not too attached too but they like enough to give a fuck about and get feel something for and that’s just never going to be the same for people.

anyway , i’m not saying im at all against a main character dying, hell , with the new “tripolar singularity” threat i do think it would make sense for someone (whether it be main or side cast) to possibly die, but i want it done properly. i understand others opinions on the past arcs but im just not sure if people truly think their changes would have improved the story or if their own bias is skewing this. feel free to let me know your stance or dm so i can understand better :D

[ohtobeleah]

I know you’re taking a break so please no pressure but I was just curious about the first time Hangman sees Brawler fight?

Oh anything for our Brawler Baby. 🥹

The first time Jake ever sees you hit someone he feels like he’s just been teleported into some kind of parallel universe. 

He’d been told you had a temper that went zero the death row rather quickly. Bob had warned him not to fuck with you all that much because the likelyhood of you costing him a pretty penny for a nose reconstruction had the same probability as Bradley Bradshaw wearing an open button hawaiian shirt to any event ever. 

But now he’s witnessing it, you’re playing a friendly game of pool with Hangman, Coyote and Bob. You’d been carrying the team all game because Bob was fucking useless and couldtnt play for shit. Jake thought it was quite endearing watching you show Bob how to line up your targets and all the different ways to hold the cue. 

“Come on darlin, let the men play, they don't need any more distractions.” You had been the only one not in uniform. It had been your one day off this week and like fuck were you gonna show up to the Hard Deck in your tans. 

“Don't take the bait Brawler, he’s just messin’ with you.” Bob mumbles, his southern drawl a little thicker than usually. It wasn't often that Bob really needed to come to your defence, he knew you could hold your own, but still –you were his sister, and he hated when people messed with you. 

The guy doesnt stop heckling you though and Jake is starting to witness first hand exactly why everyone calls your Brawler. When Jake of all people takes a shot and fumbles it, it gives the man the chance to blame you and your mum jeans for it. 

“Told you sugar, this ain't no place for an ass like that.” That comment alone is what sends you over the edge, biting your bottom lip as you uncross your arms from across your chest and take a few steps in the guy's direction as he sits with his buddies not far from the pool table. 

Jake is gripping at your bicep, pulling you back. 

“Down girl–” Is all he says before yours looking into his eyes for a moment, the emerald green seas staring back at you like you fucking hung every star in the night sky just for him. You weren't too sure how long you got lost in Jake's eyes for, but when you shake the sense back into yourself, your pulling your arm from his grip. 

“I gotta walk away, if I don't walk away I'm gonna fucking hit him.” You’re balling your fits at your side in frustration as Jake nods, agreeing that you should take a walk. Cool off. 

“I'll come with, c’mon, i'll buy you another beer?” Jake thinks he has you on the hook for a minute, and really he did. But as soon as you turn on your heels and Jake has his arms slung over your shoulder? The man who'd been giving you shit sees one final moment to strike. 

“Ah, I see we got ourselves a Badge Bunny boys.” He’s smearing with his buddies as he takes a sip of his beer. “Come on darlin, don't go all quiet on me now, tell you what?” Jake can feel your skin boiling under his touch and when you stop walking, he knows you’ve committed. “I'm sure blondie here is just overcompensating for something rather….small.” He's wiggling his pinky and that makes him and all his buddies laugh. Jake bites his tongue, not wanting to cause a scene as you turn around. 

“Listen guys–” Jake tried to start but you beat him to it. 

“You know what? What the hell–” Bob turns at just the right moment to see that Rooster is hitting number eleven on the jukebox. Joey Valence & Base Punk Tactics comes blaring through the speakers as you make your way over to the guy who's been giving you a hard time. 

Before Jake can even register what's happening, you’re fully standing between the man's legs, his hands are on the small of your back and just as he thinks you're about to go in for a kiss? You're pulling your head back and slamming your forehead between the man's eyes, breaking his nose just from the sheer force alone. 

“You wanna fucking talk shit?” You ask as he’s doubling over, blood dripping from his nose as he groans and all his buddies stay seated, stunned into pure silence. “I'll give you something to talk about.” Il only takes one right hook to have your fist throbbing, But you hold your own as the man swings at you, connecting his fist with your jaw. You stubble back and Jakes eyes go wide because what fucking guy hits a woman? 

“HEY!” He’s hissing, taking a few steps towards you before Bob is pulling him back. Jake just turns with frowned brows because why on gods green earth would anyone let this play out. 

“Don't get involved, Brawler would rather go down in a pool of blood than have someone step in to defend her in a fight she started.” Bob explained as Jake watched you tackle the guy to the ground, straddling his waist as you threw a few heavy blows against his face. “She wouldn't throw the first punch if she couldn't handle it.” 

“You say this like you've seen this happen before?” Jake asked as he watches Bradley pull you off the guy, the only person you ever let pull you from a fight. He catches your fist as you go to swing at him in a blind red rage, having taken a few in the past. 

“Far too many times to count.” Bob sighs as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Jake thinks he's in love the second he sees you spit blood from your mouth, watching the colour of your knuckles turn a busted mirage of dark purples from the busted capillaries. 

“So, about that beer?” You ask coyly. Jake just nods, not knowing what to fucking say as he walks with you to the bar. Bradley just stands with Bob, watching as Jake pulls you into his side by your waist. 

“Oh fucking hell not Hangman.” Rooster groans as Bob chuckles to himself, still holding the pool cue as the guy is dragged out of the bar unconscious by his buddies. Serves him right. 

“She told me two days ago in a drunken slur that she thought he had a cute butt.”