#god this shit is so painful even on the fifth or sixth viewing

[doubleappled]

Something we don’t talk about enough

is how Richie and Donna call each other “Ree Ree” and “Aunt Dee Dee” in s2e6. When Donna calls Richie into the kitchen, and Richie is tickling her on the kitchen floor (?!).

Ree Ree.

Aunt Dee Dee.

Thank you.

[mochegato]

The Illusion of Innocence

Written for Jasonette July’s “Innocence” prompt.

 “That was… cute?  No rough.  That’s the word, rough.  That was incredibly rough to watch.” Tim said moving to lay his arm on Jason’s shoulder.  “When did you become such a wimp?”

“What the Fuck, Replacement?” Jason tore his eyes away from Mari’s retreating figure to duck away from Tim’s sudden appearance next to him.  His eyes quickly, discretely returned to Mari.

“Wow.  Just wow.” Tim shook his head.  His hair was going to look like Jason’s if he had to continue to watch these two.

“Fuck you”

“Just ask her out already.  It’s torture watching you two dance around each other like this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  Jason said finally turning away and seeing Tim’s deadpan expression.  “I don’t want to ask her out.  If anything, I’m trying to figure out how to get her away from us so you aren’t putting her in danger.  There is no reason she had to know about us just to make us some suits. We could have come up with some bullshit excuse why we needed them to be Kevlar lined.”

“Maybe not.  But she will if she’s going to help us in the future.”

“What!?  Fuck that shit.  You should’ve discussed it with us before you decided to bring in an innocent. She shouldn’t be involved with that or with any of us at all.  You’re endangering a civilian just by letting her know, let alone whatever the fuck else you have planned.  She is going to get killed helping us,” he growled out at Tim.  “AND, she is sweet and innocent.  We should be helping to protect that in people, God knows Gotham destroys it enough, and I’m not going to let you destroy it in her.”

“Okay, first Mari doesn’t need you to protect her.  I know her a lot better than you do and she can do just fine on her own.  Second, that’s just stupid.  Third, she knows what the risks are and agreed to help.  Fourth, since when do you think before you decide to go after someone you like?  Or was it just a gut reflex, ‘what is that feeling? I think it might be real happiness. I could actually build a future with this one.  Well, let’s nip that shit in the bud.’” He said in a deep voiced imitation of Jason. “Fifth, even if you were right, you’re not, but even if you were, I’ll make sure you’ll be there to protect her the first few missions.  You’re welcome for that opening, by the way.  Sixth, you’re an idiot, a continuation of two really, but needed to be reiterated.  Seventh, talk to her before you decide to harass her out of our lives.  Ask her about her… miraculous record.  It’s going to come out pretty quickly, but you might want to be up on it sooner.  Eighth, eighth?  Yeah, eighth. Man this list is getting long. Eighth, Bruce knows and agreed already. Ninth, refer back to numbers two and six, they are really important.  And finally, you think Mari is innocent? That's hilarious." Tim doubled over in exaggerated laughter, pretending to wipe away a tear and clapping Jason on his back, “Oh, my sweet summer child.”

“Okay, A I don’t talk like that. B ‘miraculous record’? What the fuck does that mean?  Who talks like that?  You’ve been watching too many of those magical girl shows.  C you might think you know more than the rest of us but we still should have been involved in this decision.  D what do you mean you ‘know her a lot better’?” He narrowed his eyes at Tim and moved into his space, towering over him.

“You did it that way just to be an ass, another reflex for you.  But, God I wish I could have recorded that to play back to you later.  And right, since when had Bruce ever consulted with us before making a decision?” he scoffed.  “And I mean I know her like I know Steph… Barbara!!  Like I know Barbara. I absolutely trust her, absolutely platonically.” He said attempting to placate Jason.  “I am not in your way.  You are wide open to ask her out.  Or to chicken out, like a little bitch.”

“Screw you, Timbers.”

“I’m not the one you want to screw,” he sing-songed jumping away to avoid Jason swiping at him.

  Marinette had had enough.  She and Red Hood had been standing on the roof of Wayne Enterprises for the last half an hour, which should have been extremely enjoyable.  But instead of their usual easy, flirty banter and lingering looks, Jason seemed to be avoiding looking at her.  When he did happen to look her way his whole body seemed pained and uncomfortable.  When he actually gave a response to her attempts at conversation, it was in short, curt responses.  

Letting out an aggravated groan Marinette finally spoke up. “Okay Jase.  What is going on?” she demanded.

“Red Hood,” he muttered back at her.  He continued to look out over the city pretending to focus on patrol.

“What?”

“When we are in the field you are supposed to use our codenames, not our real names.  How are you going to manage in an actual mission if you can’t even remember the basics?” He bit out a bit more aggressively than was necessary. He finally turned to face her with… a glare? Maybe?  It was hard to tell with his helmet on.

She stared at him in shock for a few moments before responding. “Oooo, you’re being extra assholey tonight. It must be something really bad,” she bit back.  “Also, if you’re going to yell at me, at least have the decency to take off the helmet. It’s degrading to have it on when you’re starting a fight.”

He yanked the helmet off violently leaving just the domino mask to protect his identity.  She could now see the anger radiating off of his features. “I’m not being an asshole.  I’m taking my job seriously.  I’m concerned we’re bringing an innocent into all this. A civilian that is not remotely prepared for it in any way.  I’m frustrated that I’m going to have to spend my time protecting and worrying about you whenever you are helping instead of doing the mission, which is a really good way to get killed, for both me and for you,” he growled out stalking closer to her with each sentence, forcing her back to avoid him physically colliding with her. “And, you and Tim are making plans to get you in the middle of all this shit and you can’t even remember basic protocol for keeping yourself and us safe.  You’re going to put us all in danger, including yourself.”

Marinette reeled back like she had been slapped.  “Says the guy that called Red Robin by his name before he left,” she returned angrily. “Who asked you to worry about me? I don’t need or want you to worry about me instead of focusing on a mission.  That’s on you.  That’s your fucked up priorities, not mine.  And what makes you automatically assume I’m not prepared for any of this?”

“You can’t possibly be prepared. You can’t possibly understand what it is like.  I know you think it will be just a bit of an adventure, but it’s dangerous.  You could die or end up in a wheelchair like Barbara.”

“You think I don’t know the risks? I’m well aware of what is on the line, but I can’t stand by and watch bad things happen and not do something about it, not when I’ve been given the chance to act.  Not when I’ve been asked for my help.”

“Yes you can!” He voice getting louder again.  “You can when the alternative is you die.”

“I know what I’m doing Ja… Hood,” she corrected herself.  “I know what I’m getting into and I’m willing to take on the risks.  Paris had our own supervillain for years, you know.  I know how to protect myself.”

“No, you don’t.  I’ve seen you trip over air.  This isn’t a Disney movie, Pixie!  People die.  I’ve died! Most of the Robins have.  I don’t want you to, too.  I know you believe that good always wins and the bad guys always get punished, but that isn’t the way the world works.  Bad guys win sometimes, frequently.  Good guys die, frequently.  This is a terrible world that destroys people.  You don’t have to be a part of it.”

“Okay, I’ve seen you accidentally swing into a billboard, so you might want to be careful casting those clumsy stones.  And, I’m a part of it already whether you want me to be or not.  You think I don’t know the consequences?  Do you think I’m an idiot?  I see the consequences every day.  I have for a long time.  Years before I even came to Gotham.  I know this isn’t a Disney movie.  If it was, those rats over there would be singing right now.  Do you hear singing?  I don’t, so it must be real life.”  She stopped for a beat to think about what she just said.  “Actually, I’ve seen rats singing in real life so that’s not such a good gauge,” she added shuddering.  “Remind me to tell you about Mr. Rat sometime.”

“This isn’t a joke, Pixie. I know you’re not an idiot but you are naïve,” he gave her a gentle look and reached out to touch her cheek.  “You are still determined to see the best in people. You still have a chance to keep your innocence and that childlike view of the world.  You can stay naïve.  You deserve to.”

She looked at him in shock, her jaw falling open.  What the hell just happened?  She took a breath to think about what to say next and how to respond to whatever that was that just happened.  The condescending jackass.  Naïve? She wasn’t the one that was naïve. And he wasn’t the one that knew more than her.  Is that really what he thought of her this whole time?  Now she was livid.  That arrogant, patronizing asshole.  She was not stupid or naïve.  She slapped his hand away to growl out, “Believing that people can change does not make me naïve. Believing there is good in this world does not make me some wide-eyed, ignorant airhead.  I’ve seen good in this world.  I’ve even seen it here in Gotham.  I’ve seen it in you, despite being the egotistical, disrespectful bastard that you are.” She looked back up at him and gave him a wicked smirk.  “Also, it’s cute that you think I’ve never died.”

“Excuse me?  What does that mean?”

“There’s something you should probably know.  We were going to tell you soon anyway, but I think you might need to hear it now.”

“Okay…”

“Hmmm… I don’t think I want to tell you here though.  I think I want to tell you over there,” she said pointing to a building across the street. “There’s something poetic about revealing your secrets surrounded by gargoyles, don’t you think?  And somehow, Gotham seems to have more of them than Paris. That’s just weird,” she frowned at the thought.

“Pixie…” he noted the determination in her eyes and decided this particular argument was less important than the larger battle.  “Fine! Just let me get my grappling hook out and we can swing over.” He said reaching for it on his belt.

She looked over at him and grinned, a dangerous glint in her eye, “No thanks.  I have my own ride.  Race you!” She took off like a shot running to the edge of the building then jumped off the edge.

Jason’s heart stopped.  What was she doing?  What the hell!?  Jason took off after her.  Was she expecting him to rescue her?  What if he couldn’t get to her in time?  This was a stupid and beyond dangerous game she was playing.  After he saved her he was going to kill her.  

He pulled out his grappling hook as he ran and leaped after her streamlining his body so he could fall faster. She had the audacity to be smiling at him as she fell.  He was almost close enough to grab her.  His eyes left hers looking up to find the best target for his grappling hook.  He noted a flash of pink in his vision’s periphery but ignored it, focusing on the task at hand.  Nothing else mattered but saving Marinette.  Finally finding the best option, he turned back towards Marinette and stretched the last final inches to grab her but found Marinette was no longer there.  Instead there was a woman dressed in a deep red and a mask.  The woman grabbed his waist and launched a… was that a yo-yo?... toward the same spot he had identified earlier.  

Suddenly he was tugged up as they arced to the roof of the building.  They landed on the roof with a thud, rolling to a stop in a tangle of limbs.

He pulled back slightly to stare down at her in confusion, not able to form coherent thoughts yet. After what seemed like a few minutes Marinette finally broke the silence.  “Hood?  You going to survive this, handsome?” she asked with a smug grin.

Jason’s brain finally caught up with what was going on and his jaw dropped, “Mari?” He asked incredulously.

“No names in the field, remember? How are you going to survive any missions if you can’t follow basic safety procedures?”

“What the fucking fuck, Mari!!” He looked at her again running his hands along her face, trying to confirm what he already knew.  It was her.  Marinette was safe… and a superhero.  He let out a breath he had been holding since she jumped and shook his head.  “You’re terrible."

“I thought I was innocent and naïve?”

“No, you are a terrible, evil person.  That jump proved it.  You almost killed me all over again.”

“You deserved it.  You were being a condescending ass.”

He let out a huff, “Please never do anything like that again” he begged softly, lowering his forehead to hers.

“Don’t be an ass and I won’t have to.”

"You were supposed to be innocent” he said giving her a lopsided smile.

“I don't know what gave you that impression," she smiled innocently and batted her eyes.

“That. That damn smile. It's a lie.”  He looked back over at the Wayne Enterprises building and shook his head.  “And I thought you were going to have trouble with grappling and swinging through the air.” He chuckled lightly and lowered himself back down so his face was a few centimeters from hers, glancing down to her lips.

“Have I ever told you what it’s like riding a dragon?” She whispered licking her lips.  

“I'd love to hear about that som… wait a dragon?  Like a dragon dragon?" She nodded giving him a small, coy smile.  Jason ran his fingers across her cheek and along her mask.  He grinned happily.  His Pixie was a badass and he couldn’t wait to hear more.  “but later" he said closing the distance and crashing his lips into hers.

   Tag:

@fsketchart @jasonette-july-2k20

[caramarafics]

Reckless (Seth Rollins)

Seth Rollins x OC Maya Grey One Shot 

Warnings: just sad.

A/N: Soooo.... this has been in my drafts for awhile now and after some positive motivation from @royallyprincesslilly​ @thedeboniardevistation​ and @bigstrongblackheart​ I’ve just decided to post it. 

Hope you like it. 

AUGUST 23, 2015 11:27 PM

MANHATTAN, NY

DING!

The elevator comes to a halt upon the arrival of yet another floor. A robotic, yet feminine voice came over the speaker to announce:

“You have arrived at the twenty-third floor.”

The metal doors slowly open to reveal a black and gray hallway with artwork of abstract watercolor paintings hanging on the walls. Standing towards the back of the car, leaning against the safety bar, I watch as my aunt Isobel steps off the elevator. Placing one hand in front of the elevator door so it wouldn’t close she scans the hallway, looking left and then to the right, all to make sure that there was no one around.

After a few minutes, she finally turned her gaze back into the elevator towards me. A small, loving smile softly forms and she extends a hand.

“Come on cariña,” she whispers.

I nod my head and, with a heavy sigh and a push off the safety bar, I throw the thick strap of my Diva’s Championship over one shoulder and my gym over the other. I step off the elevator and into the waiting arms of my aunt and we begin our walk down the hall. 

Isobel puts one hand on the swell of my back while the other pulls her suitcase. My gaze fell to the floor as we walked, focusing on the hotel’s unusual carpet pattern while she scanned the placards on the wall looking for our room. Every so often I could feel her eyes practically burning a hole into me before quickly turning away to look back up at the placards. 

She was worried. She had every right to be. Since leaving the Barclay Center over an hour ago I had barely said a single word. Not to her, to Roman, no one. I was catatonic and numb. 

But who could blame me? After what just happened, anyone would react the exact same way if they were in my shoes.

As we made our way down the hall, I could feel my phone consistent buzzing through the thin fabric of Roman’s hoodie he had lent me back in Brooklyn. Slow at first, but quickly becoming more often with every unanswered second passing by.

Call me crazy, but it almost felt like with every step I took, my phone would go off.

Step.

Buzz.

Step.

Buzz.

Step, step.

Buzz, buzz.

Step, step, step.

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

Normally I would have answered it by now. But instead, I choose to ignore whoever it was and kept on. 

We reached the very end of the hall and finally stopped in front of a door marked 1127. From the corner of my eye, Isobel pulls out a key card from the pocket of her jeans and slide it into the automated lock. A few short whirring, buzzing sounds later, a green light flashes and a loud *click* signals the door had unlocked. She turns the handle, pushes the door open, and then moves to the side to usher me into the room. She follows right behind me, but not before grabbing the “Do Not Disturb” sign from behind the door and hooks it on the handle outside the room.

The door shuts and Isobel sees a small touchscreen wall panel placed by the door. She presses the button marked Lights and the overhead lights come on, revealing the room to us.

Placing my title belt on the dresser, I look around at what would be my new home for the next two nights. For the most part, the room looked like every other hotel room I’d stayed in while on the road. Granted, this was probably the most luxurious of most of them, but still pretty standard. 

There were two Queen beds each donning a fancy purple duvet with no less than eight of the fluffiest pillows I have ever seen in my life, a giant flat screen TV mounted above a black dresser, cashmere floor rugs draped across cherry hardwood floors, a cozy little reading area near the windows with a small leather loveseat, and a wet bar fully stocked with overpriced snacks and tiny bottles of alcohol. 

The only thing that did make the room stand out from all the others, however, was the incredible view. A floor-to-ceiling window panel was centered on the main wall of the room and, because of our floor being leveled with the New York skyline, displayed a near perfect image of downtown Manhattan. There was even a clear view of the Empire State building in the background, lit up in red and blue lights as night blanketed the city.

Moving over towards the beds I toss my gym bag onto the one closest to the window and sit at the foot of the bed, looking out the window. Looking out at the city I couldn’t help but think about how different my life was less than 24 hours ago. I was staying in Brooklyn with the rest of the WWE, getting ready for SummerSlam. I was in this beautiful hotel suite that overlooked the Brooklyn Bridge with the love of my life, my fiancé. My bridesmaids and I had had our final fittings for our dresses, I was getting all the final details ready for my October wedding…

But that was all before a few hours ago.

Before everything had gone to complete and utter shit.

How could this have happened? How could he do that to me? I thought to myself. 

But before I could think of some sort of explanation, the sound of boots clanking across the hardwood floor followed by the thud of Isobel’s purse landing on top of the dresser next to my title.

“Well,” she says with a satisfied sigh, “this is nice. Really nice as a matter of fact, especially with it being super last minute.”

I bring my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them and placing my chin on top, never once looking away from the window. “It’s fine, I guess.” I manage to mumble out.

“Fine?” she snorts, “Maya, come on! Look at what we got. Gorgeous view, fancy sheets, free Wi-Fi, a fully stocked bar...”

I hear movement from behind me and see a light flick on through the window’s reflection. “Oh my-, Maya you’ve gotta see this bathroom! It’s got a huge shower and…” she pauses, “Oh. My. God. The floors are heated. Cariña the floors are heated!!”

But I don’t move. I don’t spring up from the bed to revel in her excitement over heated floors or whatever other fancy details the room had to offer. Instead, I just sit there in silence, holding myself as I gaze out into the city and its nightlife. 

I observe the streetlights perched on the sidewalk creating an ominous glow on the pavement. The mixture of city cars and yellow taxis, halted by ongoing traffic as they struggle to reach their destination on time. The small groups of tourists stopping every few minutes for selfies with various buildings in the background, including this very hotel.

All the while my mind replays the events from earlier. A single tear manages to escape from my eyes as my subconscious began to torture me with a play-by-play of what happened. It all still felt like a dream to me, a sick twisted nightmare that no matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t wake up from. My brain searched and scanned through every single memory collected from the last three years of our life together.

It was desperate to find any little detail that I may have missed that could explain just where everything went wrong. Something that could’ve prepared me for what would eventually happen.

But I find nothing.

No hints, no little clues. 

No hidden messages or blaring warning signs.

Nothing that screamed out: “Maya don’t be alarmed, but just two months before you’re supposed to get married… you’re gonna find your fiancé half naked with another woman.”

Boy that would’ve been a great fucking warning now, wouldn’t it?

I was so lost in thought that I didn’t feel the bed dip or that Isobel was now sitting right behind me. I nearly jumped out of my skin when her hand found its way into my hair, softly playing with it and twirling the ends around her fingers. Another arm wrapped itself around my stomach to embrace me. My body quickly relaxes and I lean into her embrace, my head resting just above her chin. The hand that was in my hair moves to join the one around my stomach and I feel Isobel’s lips plant a soft, motherly kiss at the base of my temple as she gently rocked me.

I knew just how much it pained Isobel to see me like this; a deflated, catatonic alien that had replaced her bubbly and vivacious niece. I’d barely said less than two sentences to her or to anyone else since we left the Barclays, just a few grunts here and there whenever somebody asked me anything. She probably had dozens of questions she wanted to ask right now; ‘are we canceling the wedding, where are you gonna stay, who does she need to call, what I actually wanted to do now,’ things of that nature. 

But rather than bombard me with things that even I had no earthly clue how to answer, she said nothing and just held me.

Though she was my aunt and nearly seven years older than me, I often viewed her as the big sister I never had and the mother figure I had so desperately yearned for. She was my protector from bullies like Angela Ferrell in sixth grade after I had come home crying one too many times for her liking. Isobel pushed Angela face-first into the mud and threatened to shave her bald if she ever messed with me again.

When I reached the preteen stage and my body began to develop, she was the one who explained to me the so-called ‘joys’ of becoming a woman and who took me to the pharmacy to buy my first box of pads. She also, in a very detailed description, broke down the basics of sex and practically scarred me for life. 

After Bryan Anderson gave me my first kiss in fifth grade, she was the best friend that I ran to her to spill all the juicy details. And when I was a junior and my first ever boyfriend Joaquin broke my heart for some varsity cheerleader, she picked me up and helped put the pieces back together with junk food and my favorite horror movies… only after we went and egged Joaquin’s truck. 

Whether it was something as simple as helping me with my calculus homework, or something big as catching a red-eye flight from London to Houston just to watch me compete in my very last high school gymnastics invitational, there was never a moment in my life that I couldn’t rely on her to be there for me whenever I needed her the most.

And tonight, tonight was one of those moments when I definitely needed her.

We stayed like this in comfortable silence for what seemed like hours, just staring out into the night as she held me close to her. I feel her chin fall gently against my shoulder and her breath tickles at the side of my neck for a few minutes before she finally speaks.

“You feel like talking about it?” her voice just above a whisper.

I say nothing but shake my head.

Her lips press themselves gently against my cheek, hugging me a bit tighter as she does. “Ok, that’s fine. We don’t gotta talk about it tonight.” 

“But,” she pauses, “What we should do right now is get some food. Cause I don’t know about you, but I am starving.” 

Once again, I am silent. Intentionally I knew what she was trying to do. First, she would pump me with some of my favorite foods, maybe even some top shelf liquor, then after a few of the cheesiest and goriest slasher films she would happen to find on demand and I appeared to be in a neutral state, she would lay on the questions. It’s been her routine since I was 13 and about 80 percent of the time it usually worked. Sadly though, It’s unlikely that this particular problem could be easily fixed with takeout and Freddy Krueger.

She was right though. I hadn’t eaten anything since this morning and just the mention of food made my stomach growl. 

“Tell you what... why don’t I order us some food, and while I do that you can take a shower and get cleaned up. ¿Suena bien?”

I thought it over for a little before eventually nodding my head in agreement.

“What do you wanna do; Chinese takeout, get a couple pizzas…?”

I look up, her brown eyes meeting mine. “Can we get both?”

A small laugh escapes her mouth, and she squeezes me again. “We can absolutely do both. I’ll even throw in a couple of those brownie sundaes I saw in that menu. While you shower, I’ll call the boys and see where they are with your stuff.”

I nod once more and with one final squeeze and forehead kiss from her, I remove myself from her embrace and slide off the bed. She follows and moves towards a conveniently placed touch screen panel near the window. I watch her press a button on the panel and, in an instant, large panels start to descend over the window panel, slightly darkening the room and hiding Manhattan away for the rest of the night. 

I grab my gym bag from off the bed and make my way inside the en-suite bathroom. Once inside, I shut the door and lock it. Just as she said earlier, this truly was an incredible bathroom. A lot nicer than some I had had before. Apart from the aforementioned heated floors there were marble countertops, super soft Egyptian cotton towels, two complimentary bathrobes with matching slippers, full-size bottles of luxury brand skincare and body products, & to top it all off, a huge glass walk-in steam shower with two large overhead rainfall showerheads and about six square wall panels placed on both the front and back walls. 

Setting the bag next to the sink I make my way over to the shower. On the outside wall was yet another touch screen panel solely for controlling the shower. I look it over for a few moments before finding an app that says ‘RAIN’ and press it. Instantly, the overhead panels come alive and water begins to rain down on the inside. I mess around with a few more buttons, adjusting the water temperature and whatnot, before finally moving away so that the water could warm up.

Back at the sink, I started to open my gym bag when I felt my phone once again start the incessant vibrating like before. But this time instead of ignoring it, I pull my phone from my jacket pocket and look at the screen.

The first thing I see is his profile picture followed by his name. It was one of my favorites of us together, taken almost a year ago at a mutual friend's Halloween party. We were dressed up as Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen from Game of Thrones, complete with three ‘dragons’ perched on my shoulders. I was looking at the camera but his eyes were fixed solely on me, a smile stretched across his face as he looked.   

I watch the call stop and my home screen reappear with the notification bar.

Over a dozen missed calls and voicemails. 

With a sigh I unlock my phone and scroll through the list of missed calls, seeing one name in particular more often than others.

Seth.

Seth.

Seth.

Renee.

Roman.

Seth.

Brie.

Nikki.

Seth.

Seth.

Seth.

Renee.

Nikki.

Seth.

Roman.

Seth.

Seth.

Seth.

Seth.

Annoyed, I tossed my phone onto the counter, not caring where it landed or if it had smashed. I open my gym bag and go to pull out the set of post-match clothes I always kept handy, so I could change quickly out of my sweaty gear after any of my matches. But when I went to pull them out… nothing. Only my workout clothes from earlier, an extra set of bra and panties, deodorant, and sneakers.

Shit.

I look down at my body, currently covered in the giant hoodie.

Shit, shit, shit.

My suitcase, my clothes, my laptop… all of that is currently on its way from Brooklyn. 

I forgot to pack my spare change of clothes. 

And as if things couldn’t get any better... I’m still in my ring gear from my match earlier. 

My eyes rolled to the back of my hand and my hand runs over my face, an annoyed chuckle escaping as I relish in my own stupidity. 

Great. I thought. Just great. Good job there Maya.

Not wasting any more time, I throw off the hoodie and angrily start to undress. Starting from the bottom, I unlace my wrestling boots and set them next to the toilet. I remove my sweatpants and shimmy my way out of the custom wrestling shorts Isobel had made specifically for tonight. The matching top was next to come off and once over my head I let it fall to the floor next to my shorts, leaving me in just my sports bra and underwear. 

The gear for tonight was all-white with intricate gold lines patterned along the sides, knees, and chest with four symbols faintly embroidered in white on each side; one was mine, the other Roman’s, then Dean’s, and finally… his.  

For months, he’d been throwing the idea around of switching up his ring gear and trying out new colors aside from his usual black attire. And once Isobel had sketched up a white and gold version of his gear, he was beyond ecstatic to showcase it for his Title for Title Match at SummerSlam. 

And when she had enough fabric left over from doing his gear she made a second set just for me. 

“It’s kind of like your wedding dress,” she said to me. “Just in gear form. Hey, if you want I’ll even attach a veil to your butt and it can be your train.”

I quickly shake the memory from my head and free myself of what was left of my clothing. Grabbing two of the white bath towels placed underneath the sink, I set one on the back of the toilet and hanging the other on the hook placed next to the shower. I grab a bottle of complimentary body wash I open the shower door, and finally step inside.

I stand directly underneath, letting the warm water hit my skin and cascade around me and down my body. The splashing against the tile echoed off the walls but it wasn’t enough to drown out my thoughts as they continued to torture me. Every kiss, every touch, every ‘I love you’ we had ever said played on an endless loop in my head as I tried to pinpoint the moment that everything changed.

Meeting for the first time at that college bar back in NXT. That first kiss backstage in NXT that caught us both off-guard. The night he had told me for the first time that he loved me, which was followed up by the night we first made love.    

I try to shake these thoughts from my mind, but it won’t work. No matter what I try to think about, no matter what other happy memory that doesn’t involve him, those memories are still all that play. A few stray tears push their way out but I quickly wipe them away.

No, I thought. You are not going to do this Maya. This isn’t happening right now. Stop it!

I reach over to grab the bottle of body wash from the shelf inside the shower...    

And that’s when I saw it. The tan line on my finger, now completely visible on my left hand that just a few hours ago bore my beautiful oval cut diamond engagement ring. 

The ring that he claimed to have been carrying around in his suitcase for months, hoping to find that right moment that never seemed to come. 

Until the night of WrestleMania, just mere seconds after winning his WWE World Heavyweight Championship, he would look over to Joey Mercury and trade him his newly won title for a small black box. He would get down on one knee and take my hand in his. And then, in front of Vince McMahon and everyone else currently occupying the Guerilla, would ask me to spend the rest of my life with him. 

Now that hand was bare. The ring was gone, given or rather thrown back to him after what had happened.

And just like that, my world came crumbling down. That false sense of reality I had created since leaving the arena had finally collided with actual reality and smacked me dead in the face.

Seth, my first love, the man I was set to marry in less than two months… had cheated on me. And I had caught him tonight. 

Three years of my life, our life together, all gone in a flash. Our plans for the future, children, traveling the world… were all just illusions and fantasies that would never come true.  

My legs carried me backward until my back hit the wall of the shower and I slid down. A wave of nausea swirls all around my empty stomach and my chest tightened like someone was stomping on it repeatedly. The first sob that left my mouth was quiet, nothing short of a small childlike whimper as the tears fell. But more and more as reality continued to sink in, they grew louder. The tears flowed more, so much so that I couldn’t tell what were tears and what was just water from the showerhead. 

My body sank more and more into the ground that before I knew it I had curled myself into a ball, crying into my chest as the water turned from warm to cold. 

But I didn’t care. My head swam with half-formed regrets. My heart felt as if my blood had turned into tar as it struggled to keep a steady beat. 

I was emotionally bankrupt. There was nothing left to feel, nothing left to say, nothing left but the void that now enveloped me in swirling blackness.

And it was all because of him.  

END.   

[ash-etherwood]

Top 5: writing memories, songs, characters that are not blank rune, runes, food

♡

Linda I love you but are you trying to kill me … that’s so many Top 5’s! But alright, I’ll do my best! (Answers will probably switch between German and English RIP to every non-German-speaker who follows me and wants to read this for some reason I swear I’m normal)

WRITING MEMORIES

5.) The entire time I spent finishing my first (second?) longer writing project It was the year 2012 and it was a cyberpunk story about my friends’ and my edgy self inserts riding dinosaurs, fighting aliens and being badass. The plot twist in the end was that my character was secretly evil and wanted to kill everyone. (Things to show your therapist) The final boss fight made zero sense and also everything was incredibly weird and stupid. But sometimes I still think about those times when I sat in my grandma’s living room at night, eating chips and listening to Vocaloid covers while thinking this story was the coolest shit ever. Truly simpler times.

4.) Researching something about universities in Texas for OvF on a rainy Saturday afternoon I have no idea why this memory is still sticking with me to this day (I think it was around 2016 or something?), but I remember that it was just a really nice day and I felt really at peace at that moment?

3.) The entire writing process of Bathroom Blues It was such a spontaneous project and I still have no idea how I managed to power though it in just a little under two months! Also it was just incredibly fun seeing you getting excited over new drafts and I loved coming up with new plot points and Halloween costumes for everyone with you. :-D Truly a summer worth remembering.

2.) FINALLY uploading the prologue and intro chapter of WWBL Not really a writing memory, but that moment was … so sexy and magical. Seriously, you have no idea how long I had been waiting to finally start that story, waiting for the Steckbriefe to roll in and see people react to the prologue and generally the idea … I even made one of those countdown graphic thingies for the designated upload date! 8D At that point I had planned that story for about six months and just … yeah, that felt powerful to me.

1.) Writing the prologue for WWBL When I first started the draft for that prologue I was sitting at the window in my favourite hotel in Winterberg, Sauerland, wore my dark green flannel, had the window wide open breathing in the cool mountain air and allowed myself to listen to my WWBL playlist for the very first time. God, that felt so amazing. I even have a photo of it (which somehow makes it look like I have the biggest football shoulders in the universe) my sister took that night. God I miss Sauerland. )’:

- - - - -

SONGS

My apologies to every favourite song of mine that I forgot about, I have a whole playlist of them, but I think these are some of my oldest faves … (Honorable mentions for Don’t Mess With Me and Not That Big by Temposhark, Goodbye by Apparat, Me And The Devil by Soap&Skin, Heart Heart Head by Meg Myers, Pain and Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace, Beautiful Crime by Tamer, Gravity Of Love by Enigma, In Flames by Digital Daggers [thanks Phi u_u] and Murder Cries by Snow Ghosts AHHH FUCK IT I could’ve just made a playlist,,,)

5.) Vater Unser by E Nomine Starting off with some weird shit, won’t we? I’ve been in love with this song since fifth or sixth grade, when I was just starting to develop an actual music taste and although I have many favourite songs by E Nomine, this one has to be my absolute fave. Every time I can relate it to a character it makes me love said character even more. (Also I think about it every time my mom forces me to go to church for Christmas so … yay? I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t even be able to remember the Vater Unser if it wasn’t for this song. 8D)

4.) Wires by The Neighbourhood I think this is the newest all-time fave on this list, I found it in … 2015? Thank you, Youtube AMVs. Yeah man, this one is just … on so many playlists it’s not even funny anymore.

3.) Heathens by Twenty One Pilots An edgelord classic but like … it’s on EVERY playlist of mine. Every single one. It’s just so good. The first time I heard it was on the radio tho, when I was having breakfast with Jessie and I forced her to shazam it because it immediately stuck with me,,,

2.) Imaginary by Evanescence My first Evanescence song ever and the first step towards becoming who I am today I think. This song has like … such a big history for me, man. It single-handedly turned me goth in 2008 and I have never really thanked it for that.

1.) Eternal by Evanescence Might be my favourite song of all time. The number of dramatic RP scenes I have written with this in the background … man. Oh, also this song is the reason for one of my oldest internet nicknames, ‘eternala’, which subsequently shortened into Etschuh and then Tschuh, my main nickname until 2017, when I came out as trans and finally found an actual name for myself I was comfortable with!

- - - - -

NON BLANK RUNE CHARACTERS

I know this was probably supposed to be about fandom characters but I can literally not come up with a single character right now that I love with a special burning passion and that is not my or one of my friends’ OCs so you’re getting OCs now. u_u And boy do I have a lot of those.

5.) Jackson Tracey from atroCITY (mine) This little piece of shit kept me company for a pretty long time and is still very close to my heart for some reason, although I haven’t drawn him or really thought about him in detail for a while now. My favourite thing is how I only realized what a horrible person he was after I stopped regularly working with him but honestly good for me. 8D His storyline and personality is kinda convoluted and tbh I’m not really sure how much of it is canon anyway (atrc was always a little weird about canon rip) but yeah. He’s an obsessive stalker piece of shit who pities himself way too much and he is also a semi-immortal demigod who likes knives. I hate him but he also helped me a lot with some gender and sexuality stuff so thanks I guess.

4.) Mayoko Imai from Century Riders DXPrototype (Maus’ and mine) Mayoko is a magical girl protagonist with a cool cyborg arm prosthetic and her main character trait was that she was basically a reverse weeaboo, a Japanese girl who was obsessed with American media, culture and comic book heroes! I actually love her concept a lot and she also had a pretty cool character arc in her story (which Maus and I wrote together and actually finished btw!), although it could use a lot more … polishing from today’s point of view. But I love her anyway. She always wanted to do the right thing and be a hero and got broken pretty cruelly and her ending is kinda bittersweet I guess? Ahh there’s just so much nuance to it … anyways, CR3 also stuck with me for a very long time and I enjoyed the time with her a lot. :3 (Her name had a cameo in Another Incident btw heehee)

3.) Tessa *insert extremely long chain of unnecessary first names here* von Lean from Nobody Is Perfect and Infernal Temptation (belongs to one of my old school friends) Tessa is just … a hand full. I love to hate her. She is badly written and developed and just OOZES mentally ill teenage girl’s idealized self-insert power fantasy, but she just … man, she was a big part of one of my most drama-filled high school friendships which I love looking back at so much. Tessa has fucked so many of my characters … good for her tbh! There are actually two versions of her, one is just a ‘normal’ teenage girl and one can shapeshift into a cheetah, but both of them are very close to my heart. I should really adopt and redesign her some day.

2.) Judy Khayat from Original vs. Final (mine) Look, I love all my OvF-characters and every single one of them is special to me in their own way, but Judy is just … the most complex of them all I think? Man, she went through so much … she is actually one of my oldest (semi)-active characters (I created her in 2009) and her latest version is from 2016 but I should really, REALLY revise her again tbh. She has a very complicated backstory that I didn’t handle as carefully as I should have, and anger issues and religious conflict and depression and PTSD and then Vance of all people becomes obsessed with her for no reason and decides to traumatize her even more … yeah. God I really love her but I seriously need to work on her. A LOT. I should also finally rename her tbh … let’s just see where she takes me next.

1.) Okami (I don’t even remember if she has a proper last name rn lol) from Split Realm (mine) Yeah, that bitch is just my favourite OC. She’s also very old, probably from around 2009, and initially was a magical girl with fire powers who I played in an RP with my friend Flauch but boy did she grow up! Holy fuck. Okami is a horrible person but I love her so much. She is so violent and full of anger and pain and sadness and treats everyone around her like shit and she is in love and she is a demon but also apparently the personification of the concept of Chaos but she just wants to be a teenager again and run away with the love of her life and ahhh it’s all so hopeless for her … also she turned out gnc af with time passing and pretty much went through a gender/sexuality crisis in real time with me, her creator, which is always fun. :^D I haven’t drawn her in a while tbh. Should really do that.

- - - - -

RUNES IN BLANK RUNE

I’m just gonna go with the arcs here, okay? Also this entire answer might look completely different if you asked me again tomorrow, you know how indecisive I am with Blank Rune shit ahha,,,

5.) Jera Look. I know I’m boring and stupid. But I just love Tave and Liam having their disgusting little foreshadowing talk, okay? I can read it over and over. I just love my horrible little shit crime boys. Also Rhy and Phillip are there. (’:

4.) Isa This one is here because it was the first arc I witnessed in real time which gives it a very special place in my heart and it also … hit pretty hard at the time. But having read Fehu it’s become even better now! It’s just such a wonderful, tragic romance between two horrible, ruthless boys and I … I’m not immune to Rhy, sadly. :-/ Just like Phillip.

3.) Wunjo We still haven’t seen everything that leads up to Wunjo yet, but we DO know more than we did initially (wow shocker) and it’s just always a fucking blast. Also, it has the first mention of Ash’s real name … the first Rhy POV (which what the fuck!! I always feel like we had one before but we didn’t!! Wild) and it has crazy blood-soaked murder Tave, my beloved. :///3

2.) Eiwaz You guys have heard me fanboy about Eiwaz so many times already. Eiwaz-OT3 (and Kain) my beloved!!! It’s just SUCH an amazing starting point and there are so, so many things that tie back to it and every time we find out about a new one my heart makes a little jump … und es beginnt von Neuem indeed.

1.) Gebo One of the most painful but also the most beautiful arcs yet in my opinion. It’s been hyped up for so long and boy did it deliver. God, my heart still hurts when I think about that last scene. Also all the dialogue … the golden lines we got … and it’s an arc without Rhy! Crazy!! :-D I just love the relationship between Ash, Astrid and Jakob so much. God fuck I want what they have. Just maybe without the murder suicide,,,

- - - - -

FOOD

5.) Diese Sonntagsbrötchen wo die Verpackung so plopp macht, wenn man die Folie abzieht Better than normale Brötchen for some reason. Most of the time. See 2.) Look man, I just really love a good breakfast …

4.) Chocolate cupcakes with cream cheese topping One of the first things from a certain baking book I tried when I was getting into baking back in 2019. God they are so tasty. I don’t make them often so I don’t get used to them too much and eating them still feels special but ahhhh I love them so much!

3.) Grünkohl mit Kartoffelbrei und Mettendchen One of my favourite things about autumn/winter and one of my biggest comfort foods. God I love this shit so much. I just put … mountains of Grünkohl and Kartoffelbrei on my plate every time and I will just warm it up for four days straight until there’s no more left. It turns me into a fucking caveman. I’m not even big on eating meat but … yeah. Everything is different when there’s Grünkohl.

2.) Normales Brötchen mit Butter und Scheibenkäse aber ich bin beim Frühstücksbuffet im Hotel Oddly specific but that’s just how it is. Sorry. Nichts geht über Brötchen mit Käse.

1.) Chilli-Knoblauch-Nudelauflauf My beloved. My comfort food. I eat it literally every second day. At least one hour in the kitchen every time. Fresh ingredients. My only vegetable intake. And I’ve been doing that for three years. I just love it so much, man. I cook it for everyone who visits me. Chilli-Knoblauch-Auflauf cured my depression.

[marueonmain]

WINDFLOWER

part three ~ without the dolphin ~

(part one) (part two) (part three)

A/N: Thank you all so so much for reading! I never thought people would care about my writing and I am so appreciative. I’ve got messages/asks open for comments or questions.

Summary: Y/N warms up to Alex. George advises him to not be an idiot. 

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Secondhand Embarrassment. Mild Language.

Word Count: 2.3k

There was no music in the lift. There was no music to interrupt Alex's music blaring into his ears. If there were someone around, they would have heard his questionable song choice for the four-minute trip from his apartment to meet the deliveryman and back again. Not that that trip required music.

However, consider that the brain could think thousands of thoughts in four minutes, and the chances of those all being pleasant thoughts are minuscule. Why take that chance? Why not drown them all out?

DING the sliding doors opened. Alex stepped out with a bounce in his step set in-time with the backbeat of the chorus playing in his ears.

Coming from around the corner where the mailroom was, Y/N brushed past him in a flash of blue clothing. She did not seem to see him.

But he saw her, like a Where's Wally game he was not aware he was playing. He took out one of his earbuds, slipping it in his pocket. Alex was determined to be normal: to make up for the initial awkwardness of their first meeting.

Y/N walked past the lift and started for the stairs. She was on the fifth or sixth step.

"Red!" called Alex.

"Hmm? Oh, hello," she said, smiling.

"How are you doing?" It was uncomfortable for him to be on a lower plane than to whom he was speaking, but Y/N was not moving, so neither was he.

"Tired."

"For tired, you don't look too bad. No I didn’t—you don't look bad. You look good!" Amidst recovering from his slip, Alex noticed how different Y/N was then last time. Different in appearance, with her softer expression and relaxed shoulders, and in her aurora. It was calmer, more open.

"You look good too. That shade of yellow—" she pointed to his sweatshirt, "—compliments your hair."

"Really? You think?" He thought he might just melt or spill open in front of her.

"I'm not a liar. What are you up to?" Y/N looked around, keeping her head on a slight swivel. She returned to meet Alex's gaze with something like concern shining, hiding behind her animated expression.

"I'm meeting a deliveryman. If you want, you could come and eat pizza with George and me." After a short beat, he added, "Invite Sammy too."

"Is George your flatmate or..." Y/N intentionally trailed off.

"Flatmate." Alex thought he might have seen Y/N's smile widen more so for a second at his answer. But he could not be sure what he saw was real or just a manifestation of what he wished to see.

"He sounds nice."

"George? Yeah, he's lovely. Not as lovely as me, of course."

Nodding in mock seriousness, Y/N confirmed, "Of course."

It was a simple conversation, but it felt so alive: so real: so this is happening right now and Alex felt so present. Like looking at himself in the mirror late at night and being hit with the conscious recognition of I am a person. Here I am this corporeal being. Not made of words or thoughts, what I find funny or opinions I like, my mental state or view count.

Alex was real talking to Y/N. Words were free-flowing out of him as he processed and reacted simultaneously. Such an understanding – if harnessable – could lead to solutions for world hunger or maybe even get him to three million subscribers within the year.

"So, you'll come along?"

"I can't." Y/N frowned a slight frown. Her nervous nature returned as she cleared her throat and began to fiddle with her fingers.

"Come on, Red," his voice whined with the plea before stabilizing, "It'll be fun. It's not just pizza. I was planning on throwing together a salad as well to go with it."

"How healthy."

"Oh? Do you not know?" Alex paused so Y/N could shake her head. "I'm only buying a pizza to support local businesses; I'm really an expert in the kitchen."

"Is that right?" She raised an eyebrow.

"World-renowned."

"You know what? I see it now. Better than Ramsey, aren't you?"

"Leagues better. I'd challenge any chef to rival my bagged salad mix. It's spectacular – delicious."

Y/N giggled, and Alex joined.

Music had continued to blare from the earbud he left in, but he had been able to ignore it during the conversation. Until a particular song came on – one he downloaded as a joke – and he heard the line: got our song...up and ready

Did Alex wish Y/N and he had a song? No, that was dumb. An unrealistic expectation the romance genre shoved upon its (generally) female audience. But did he? Kind of. It would be cute. Men can want to be cute, too, right?

"So, you'll come?" he asked...again.

Y/N fiddled with the collar of her chin-hugging top. "I would, but I can't. Sam would—don't you think you've made your deliveryman wait long enough?"

"Probably. You have some time to change your mind; just ring me if you do."

"I don't have your number."

"Alright," he made a give it here gesture, "I'll plug it in."

Y/N's bright expression faltered a smidge as she relinquished her phone to him. It was an older model but still a smartphone: no passcode: no apps other than those built-in. Her wallpaper was a picture of Sammy and her on a nature walk. 

Alex’s prominent adam's apple jumped. A pain like indigestion or like guilt stabbed him in the stomach. After plugging in his number, he took an extra second to double-check it and add some personal flair.

Y/N took her phone back. "Why the emoji? I think I'll know who you are without the..." Y/N squinted at the screen. "...without the dolphin."

"Never know. It could be a good reminder."

"I suppose, it does match your eyes," she muttered, still focused on the phone. Y/N froze for a second, clearly not having meant to say that out loud.

"There you go, it's perfect. Don't be afraid to call or text me; I'm on that thing 24/7, and I promise to reply in at least one-to-two business days. Guaranteed."

She scoffed, "You should go get your pizza."

It would not be the first or fifth time Alex had forgotten about a deliveryman, and – while he would let his extra-large go stone-cold before willingly break off a conversation with her – it was apparent Y/N was itching to get somewhere.

"True." Alex gave a short wave, maintaining his distance. "I'll see you later."

"Bye.” Y/N disappeared up the stairs.

~LATER~

Alex balanced the extra-large pizza box in one hand. Never having worked in food service, his confidence in doing so was even lower than his regular self-confidence. With his other hand, he patted himself down, looking for the key to his apartment. He cursed at himself for having locked it out of habit when he left.

There was muffled shouting coming from inside – sounding both playful and angry. It took a single step through the door for Alex to recognize the source of the shouting.

George was in his bedroom watching a video back without his headphones on. 

A great grief. A true unseen struggle for all youtubers – headphones were uncomfortable. Constant low-pressure squeezing developed into the biggest hazard of the job: chronic headaches. Both flatmates had expressed how they sometimes woke up to the feeling like they needed to relieve a phantom pressure and take off their headphones despite not wearing them to bed.

"Take high ground," a familiar voice commanded. "You have to down this guy."

Pre-recorded George asked, "Where is he?"

"Left. LEFT! Your left! Goddammit George, you dyslexic bitch."

It was with bitch that Alex recognized the other voice in the recording– it was Joshy, and it was a fortnite video from the sound of it.

"This gun is so weak it's hitting nine damage," pre-recorded George complained.

Joshy screamed, "Let's go; we got to go!"

"You do your thing. I'll be over there in a bit."

Their bickering continued sounding identical in tone to that of a couple outside divorce court. Viewers loved how shit George was at fortnite and how increasingly frustrated that made Joshy: the shouting, the swearing, the idle threats and name-calling. Pairing up together for these types of gameplay videos would often have them banging out a quarter to half a million views per video.

Meanwhile. Alex placed the pizza box on the coffee table and fell onto the sofa with an exhausted sigh. Sitting up, he grabbed at the box lid and started claiming the best-looking slices in his head.

Eyes flickered to the closed-door: George had not heard him come in – surely not. And he would not be mad if Alex started in on devouring the pizza without him – surely not. Right?

Stacking two slices on top of one another, Alex crammed them into his mouth quick, as if scared they would be taken away from him, and burned his tongue.

"Help me," pleaded the pre-recorded George, "Help me. Help me."

"Nah. Don't think I will."

"Josh, if you don't revive me right now. I swear to god, I will piss in your mouth while you sleep."

Alex snorted, choking on the third slice of pizza he had fit in his big mouth; he had been on the receiving end of that piss threat before, several times. Most recently because he left a plate in the sink and George swore if Alex did not clean it that second, he would...well...piss in his mouth.

"That's not very nice." Joshy mimicked genuine sadness. "I got you."

1/3 of the pizza was gone, and Alex decided it fair to call George in before he scranned it all himself. "George! Pizza's here!"

"Alright!" George (the real not the pre-recorded) shouted back. There was the sound of his door closing and the padding of his socked feet down the short hall before he appeared around the corner. Met with Alex and the 2/3 of a room temperature pizza, he asked the appropriate, "What the fuck?"

"I was starved."

"And here I was thinking the one excuse I would accept for taking twenty years to get the pizza was that you'd run into the street and got hit.”

Alex spoke around his mouth being full, "Sorry."

"Whatever." He snuck in a quick smack against the side of Alex's head as he joined him on the sofa.

Both men sat in silence, shoving slices of pizza into their mouth like it was a competition. Like there was no other food in their apartment. Like they could not order another pizza. Like it proved something.

Breaking the silence, Alex swiped the sleeve of his sweatshirt across his mouth and asked, "Are we still filming that opening pokemon cards video tomorrow?"

"Yes. Just need someone to film the over-the-shoulder angle. Lewis is sick."

"Sick with what?"

"Not the bug." George rolled his eyes mockingly. His eating had slowed down after hitting the wall, half-way through his fifth slice. "It's like a cold or something. Could you ask your new mate Sammy to do it?"

"Why not ask Will to come down?"

"Don't trust him," he said, shrugging.

"Fair enough. I'll ask him when we hit the pub later." Alex stood and walked to the kitchen. At the sink, he washed his hands with dish detergent and, cupping his hands into a bowl, washed around his mouth with the soapy water. Satisfied, he took a towel to his hands and face before returning to see George shutting the lid on the pizza box. "What do you think of Sammy?"

"How do you mean?"

"Just in general."

George shrugged. "He's cool."

"Yeah," Alex agreed – because he did agree with the statement; he liked Sammy.

There was a pause, and, in the interlude, George stood and grabbed the pizza box. He brought it to the kitchen bin; balancing it on top the overflowing rubbish. Curious and perhaps thinking he heard a tonal shift in their dialogue, George settled himself to be pressing his shoulder against the wall nearest where Alex stood. Leaning like he was in a how do you do fellow kids meme.

Alex felt very much 'squared up' to. He turned to be met with a quick tilt of the head and a scrutinizing near-glare from his flatmate. It was not unlike George to stick his nose in where it does not belong; could this be considered that type of situation? Alex did ask for his opinion.

Clearing his throat, George asked, "Is this about Y/N?"

"I was talking to her earlier and—"

"Why were you talking to her?"

"—and I got the sense that Sammy might be like a tad controlling. I don't know."

"Are you serious?" George asked harshly before continuing in a softer voice – with a hint of hesitation, of caution, "You know what happens when you jump to conclusions like that. You shouldn't be chatting up Y/N behind Sammy's back."

"It wasn't like I cornered her. We ran into each other." Alex tugged on his sleeves, pulling them past his shaking fingers – seconds away from crawling into himself.

It was not playful bullying between friends anymore; it was a telling off. And neither was comfortable. George's eyes pleaded for Alex to look up and meet them, and for Alex to understand. Alex held no negative feelings toward George. But Alex hated himself for reacting as he was; he hated being human and having sensitive moments. Though he could not stop it.

"You have got to back off. Ok?" George confirmed, "If it means we can't have Sammy in the friend group, then that's what it means. We'll find someone else to film for us tomorrow."

"No, it's fine. I'll ask him," Alex said as he pulled up and straightened his posture. He smiled at George's concerned expression and added, "I'm not interested in Y/N."

[virgiliananxiety]

The Dark and the Light

GUYS I FINALLY GET TO POST THIS

This is the first chapter for my fic for the @sanderssidesbang! It will update approximately every two weeks, but updates won’t start for at least another three weeks (I really need a break from this fic). Pairings: Eventual Prinxiety

Word Count: 6.2k 

Warnings: Mild violence and non-graphic gore, panic attack

Read it on AO3

This was really not how Virgil had planned on his evening going.

First off, the date he had been on was actually going pretty well. The guy was nice, and seemed kind of into the whole “dark and mysterious” aesthetic. That was, probably, until Virgil got a text with his latest assignment. Which started in five minutes.

Secondly, once he reached the location, a small concrete warehouse, which housed the head personnel of Deceit’s main rival drug ring, there were...complications. The mission was simple, go in, get the information he needed, slit the throats of whoever saw him, and get out.

Complications came in the form of the little asshole who saw him not being too cocky to call for backup.

“Deceit?” He snarled in response to the chatter in his earpiece. He was hidden in the shadows behind a crate, but by this point, the shadows were starting to fill the room. “What do you want?”

“Anxiety, dear,” Fuck, one of them is right there. “It’s come to light that some of our intel on this base was a little...off,” No shit. Left hook, hit him with a few more shadows, dart to the neck. Why the fuck did he have to scream? Think, Virgil, think! “It turns out that there are about fifty guards on the premises, and from what I’m seeing of traffic patterns, more are on their way.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Footsteps, there were more coming. But suddenly, the room went completely black. Not shadows black, that would take up too much of Virgil’s energy, but the pitch darkness was–

“Unfortunately,  I am not. Though I did shut off their power,” That would explain it. “Which should buy you a little extra time. So I would get that information and get out quick, if I were you.”

Of course, because it was fucking Deceit, he still needed to get the information. Great.

Looking down at the map on his wristband, the exit from the main storage room was only about 35 feet away. But in that 35 feet, there were seven sentries. Just fucking dandy.

The first was, well, an idiot. They charged blindly, and Virgil blocked their throws easily, flipping them over his knee. The second was more tactful, parrying as he jabbed. Their dance lasted for a while, the preamble to each move hidden in the darkness, before Virgil finally stabbed a tranquilizer into their neck.

The third was fast, but not fast enough. The fourth fell after an elbow to the solar plexus, and the fifth slashed Virgil with a jagged blade before he knocked them down. Shit, that might be deep. No time to think about it, and he hit the sixth, but they swept a leg behind him, knocking him clean off of his feet. He landed on his side. Hard. Shadows in their mouth, down to the lungs, and...release as they let out their last breath. Dammit, Virgil, why’d you have to follow that instinct? The power flickered back on, and Virgil hit the seventh with a quick dart to the neck, now that he could finally see. He could feel through his shadows, but that didn’t mean he could see in the dark.

Third left, up the stairs, override the lock, down the hall to the main hard drive. And he ran, long midnight purple jacket trailing behind him as he jumped up the stairs. In the distance more footsteps trailed behind him, but he cloaked himself in shadows, keeping close to the walls. Pressing the device Logan had given him (though he’d modified it for more...sinister usage) against the lock, Virgil took stock of his injuries. Cut in the crook between his left shoulder and neck, scrapes and bruises lining his sides, and even through his gloves he could feel his knuckles splitting. Again.

The unlocking mechanism gave a satisfied click, and Virgil shouldered the door open, reminding himself of the additional bruise he had there. He broke into a sprint again, the servers were finally in view.

But because Virgil wasn’t planning on downloading anything remotely tonight, his software wasn’t activated. So, he had to call his roommate.

“Hey, Roman?”

“What’s up Virgil? You need me to pick you up from somewhere?” It was a well know fact that Roman was the only one in their friend group with a car.

“No, I’m good. Is Logan there?” Virgil and Logan were supposed to meet up for post date (over) analysis about seven minutes ago. Logan was never late.

“Yeah, one sec.” There was a rustling as Roman’s cell was passed from one side of the room to the other, where Logan was, most likely, parked in his customary spot in Virgil’s desk chair.

“Hey, Lo, I’m really sorry I’m running late.”  He heard a huff from the other side of the line, but knew that Logan didn’t really mind. “But I need you to do something on my computer.”

“Is this a simple request? Or one that would require a seperate... technological interfacing?” Virgil could practically see him skeptically eyeing Roman from across the room. Virgil was the only one that Logan had ever told about his powers, how he was able to interface with most technology, and how that allowed him to develop some inventions of his own.

“Simple. I just need you to log in, and press activate on the window that’ll pop up.” He heard the keyboard clicking as Logan typed in his password, and then a mouse click as he activated the software, punctuated by the affirmative beep from Virgil’s wristband. DOWNLOADING FILES: 3% COMPLETE.

“What do you need remote downloading for?” Logan asked, seemingly trying to pass the time. 16% COMPLETE.

“Oh, I had to stop at the library and get a book, but I didn’t feel like getting a thumb drive out.” He felt bad lying to his best friend, but he knew that if Logan found out, it would result in a) Logan trying to get Virgil to stop, and ending up captured or killed by Deceit, b) Logan trying to help Virgil, and ending up captured and used by Deceit, or c) Logan trying to get Virgil out of his predicament, and ending up captured or killed by Deceit.

What was his predicament, exactly? Well, that traces back a long way, through many past traumas, foster homes, packed bags, and escape attempts. Back to when a man with scales on his face told a scared 14 year old boy that he could take him in and make the shadows stop. But that man ended up not being so nice, and now Virgil was trapped.

Footsteps broke through Virgil’s thoughts, but they were far off. 47% COMPLETE. “Logan, I’ve gotta go, I’ll talk to you later.” He ended the call, cutting off his friend’s goodbye, which he was surely going to hear about later.

He scanned his map, and found that there was only one other way out, straight up through an abandoned elevator shaft. Clambering onto one of the server towers, he hunched in the dark as the first hostile entered.

“I don’t see anything here,” they said into a crackling walkie-talkie. Virgil took another slow step, but the circuit below him creaked. Shit. “Wait, hold that thought.” 89% COMPLETE.

“Fuck it,” Virgil cursed under his breath, and broke into a sprint, his feet pounding against the metal. He heard the sentry yell something into his comm system, and Virgil fired a dart messily over his shoulder, he didn’t have the energy for more shadows.

93% COMPLETE. He raced to the end of the room. 94% COMPLETE. More guards charged into the room. 95% COMPLETE. Bullets whizzed past him, one passing only a few inches from his temple. 96% COMPLETE.  He skidded to a stop as he reached the end of the room, a large piece of plywood blocking his exit. 97% COMPLETE.  The running footsteps were coming closer, and Virgil traced the outline of the board with his fingers. 98% COMPLETE. He attempted to pry the plank from the wall, but couldn’t find an opening. 99% COMPLETE. He felt another bullet scrape by him, and it went straight through the plywood, which meant it was thin enough to be broken through.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, and body slammed through the opening, bursting through in a hurricane of splinters.

“Download complete.” An automated voice sounded from his wristband. Well thank god it’s complete, lest I die falling with an incomplete download.

Virgil fired a grappling hook, and pulled himself up onto the roof, surveying the city below him. The lights were beautiful at this time of night, and the lit windows framed by dark buildings looked like the stars.

But he couldn’t stand there for long, for the night wasn’t over yet.

Roman hadn't had an extremely clear vision of how his night would go, but this was definitely not it.

"There are only eight planets! Pluto is essentially a glorified moon!" He practically yelled. He had progressively grown closer to the other man, and they were now a mear couple of feet from each other.

“Falsehood! There’s a current debate discussing the redefinition of ‘planet’, which would make your every argument null and void, and Pluto securely in planetary status.” Logan crossed his arms, nudging his glasses further up his nose. “In other words, Viva la Pluto, and fuck you.” He raised an eyebrow smugly, and Roman opened his mouth to retort.

“Hey, guys,” Virgil stumbled through the entrance to the dorm, clutching his left side. “I hope I’m not too late for some spicy space symposium.” He smirked, but winced in pain.

“Yeah, you’re not participating in anything right now.” Roman walked over and clutched Virgil’s shoulders, lowering him to the bed. “I think you just need some rest,” He motioned for Logan to dim the lights, and he reached over and turned on Virgil’s desk lamp. “And we’ll have you all set by morning to talk about Pluto.”

“M’kay,” Virgil murmured, allowing Roman to shrug off his sweater, and Roman winced at the open gash in his shoulder. He didn’t know what was going on, but this was at least the fourth time Virgil had come home banged up like this, and it was starting to seriously concern his roommate. “‘M gonna sleep now.”

“Okay.” Roman took a last look at Virgil’s already sleeping form and went to go grab his medical supplies. His nursing-theater double major had few perks, but being able to patch up his friends at any time was something that he cherished. Especially after Virgil had said “no hospitals”.

Roman returned from his desk to see Logan hunched over his friend, worry painting his features. As much as the other man tried to uphold his apathetic facade, Roman had seen several cracks throughout the years, several being caused by Virgil.

“Logan, can you stroke his hair to keep him calm while I look at this cut? It may be deep and need stitches.” Logan nodded, and Roman took a look and the cut. It definitely needed stitches, which meant that Roman would have to make a quick run to the nursing lab. “Ok, Xavier, you keep him here. If he wakes up, give him water, half a protein bar, and then back to sleep. Find his phone in whatever pocket it’s in, and confiscate it. He needs to rest.” He grabbed his jacket, and broke off into a sprint to get more supplies.

Several hours and seven stitches later, Roman fell back onto his bed. Logan had left only a few minutes ago, but now Roman was alone, trying to shut down his mind. But truly, how could he when his crus–roommate was lying there with a gash in his shoulder and bruises lining his body. When the boy who put on makeup every morning to cover the bags under his eyes had come home beaten and battered once a week for the past three months, but this time was the only time that he’d let Roman take care of him.

Though Logan had assured Roman that Virgil wasn’t in an abusive relationship, he couldn’t help but jump to that conclusion. He couldn’t help but remember his mom’s screams in the middle of the night. Images of dents in plaster and bloodied tissues clogged his mind, and he felt himself grabbing a piece of blanket and balling it in his fist.

It would be fine. They, being Logan, Roman, and Patton, would ask Virgil what was going on tomorrow morning. Tonight, though, Roman just really needed to get some sleep.

“What the fu–” Virgil awoke with a start as someone shook his shoulder. He sat up and immediately regretted it, groaning as pain shot up his side and into his shoulder.

“Hey, kiddo, glad to see you’re awake.” Virgil turned to see his three closest friends standing over him. Patton gave him a small smile, but there was visible concern overtaking all three of them. Judging by the bandages on his shoulder, and the fact that he was wearing a clean hoodie, they were going to ask him what happened last night.

“Virgil, you know that we only want to best for you, right?” Logan asked.

“What is this, an intervention?” Virgil murmured. What the hell was he going to tell them? That he could control shadows and drain people’s life energy by being in physical contact with them for too long? Yeah, that really wasn’t going to work.

“No, but we do need to know why the hell I needed to put seven stitches in you last night.” Virgil looked up to see Roman leaning against the wall, and he seemed almost...hurt? Jesus, the last thing Virgil wanted to do was hurt the man he was in love wi–his roommate. This was no time for intrusive gay thoughts.

“I–I fell?” He tried to keep his his tone level, but it ended up coming out as more of a question. In response, Roman slammed his fist against the wall.

“Onto a fucking knife?” He exclaimed, and the hurt in his voice turned to anger. Patton placed a soft hand onto his arm, but Roman shook it off as he stepped forward. “You came stumbling back here, an hour late for your and Logan’s post-date. You were delirious from pain, and I had to go to the fucking storage in the lab to get shit to stitch you up, and we’re extremely lucky Terrence was there last night. I’ve seen the missing medical supplies in my kit for months, Virgil, so for the last time, WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?” He raised his voice to a yell at the end, causing Virgil to wince back.

“Roman!” Patton turned on his Dad Voice, and sternly turned on the other man. “I understand that you are upset, but you have no right to jump on Virgil like this!”

“Look, it’s my fault.” Virgil murmured, and felt the pit in his stomach from lying grow a bit more. “I didn’t want to tell you guys this, but after dates I’ve been walking through...some of the less accepting neighborhoods. Looking for fights, or to get beat up.” It felt awful to lie to them, but truly, what choice did he have? “I guess it’s a form of self sabotage, or something.”

“Jesus, Virge.” Roman stepped closer, this time to plop down next to him on the bed and place a comforting hand on his thigh. Which sent more tingles through Virgil than he would willingly admit. “I’m so sorry. Please, in the future, call me, I’ll pick you up from wherever, whenever.”

“It’s my fault. I’ll try not to do it as much,” Or rather, he would hide it better.

“Or at all.” Patton lovingly rubbed his back, leaning into his side. And Virgil felt like literal human garbage.

Roman had always loved the snow. But that was before he had to fight some guy who wore all dark and conjured shadows in it.

He hurled another branch at the guy, dubbed by the papers “Anxiety”, catching him in the side. He didn’t want to hurt the guy, but on the other hand, he...really wanted to hurt this guy. Or at least do equivalent damage to what had been done to his pride.

Before this, Roman had been a freelance hero, or at least your friendly neighborhood super-strengthened and bulletproof man. He was able to rescue kids from doing dumb shit, stop a couple of drug deals from going down, that kind of thing. But that was before some dumb asshole in an annoying cool jacket starting fucking with him.

At the start, it was just interfering with his anti-drug operations. But then it became active antagonization, ruining everything Roman tried to help. And when the person didn’t fight with bullets, only really bad lighting, it became an issue.

“You didn’t have to kill the people in this ring!” Roman shouted as he circled around his emo enemy. “You could have just given them to the actual justice system!”

“If you knew anything about me,” A shadow swept towards Roman, curling around his neck and slightly infiltrating his mask. “You’d know,” he motioned a hand upwards, and Roman found himself having trouble breathing, “I couldn’t do that.” Roman tried to run after him, but in a rush of darkness, Anxiety ran off through the night.

“Virgil, dear, it’s been a while since you’ve been down here. What’s the occasion?” Deceit didn’t even bother to look up from his table, writing down some formula or another.

“I need to see Elliott about the new tech and get patched up. I would go to their place, but they said they’re here?” After coming out as non-binary, the hyper-intelligent and slightly emo kid had found themself homeless, and went through the same Deceit process Virgil did. Except after much negotiation, they were paid, and so they lived in a small studio apartment in the part of town where no one asked questions, only using Deceit’s lab when absolutely necessary.

“And here I thought you’d come to see your dear old ferocious father figure.” Deceit drawled, turning around and gesturing towards the staircase at the far end of the room. “He’s downstairs, and make sure you’re good as new before coming up.”

Virgil backed towards the stairs, having known Deceit long enough to not leave his back unwatched. He finally turned to walk down the stairs, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds, and hearing a soft laugh emit from the other man.

“Hey, Ell, what’s going on?” Elliott was positioned at a microscope, and something was heating up on the bunsen burner next to it. They held up one finger, and wagged it towards a bench, motioning for him to sit. Virgil shouldered off his jacket, wincing as he touched bruised skin. Pulling up his shirt, he did a preliminary assessment, but there were just scrapes and bruises. He also needed a little energy boost, because the guy was seemingly impermeable, making Virgil’s job a bit harder.

“Ok. I’m done here. What’s it this time?” Elliott stripped off his gloves, grabbing his rather eccentric med kit off a shelf.

“Asshole threw a tree at me.” Virgil grumbled as they took a closer look. “Just slather it with your magic ointment shit and let me go.”

“No, dickhead, there’s to big of a surface area, and it’s too close to your intestines because you have a zero percent body fat.” Elliott grabbed a tube, and started applying small amounts to the already scabbing area. “This might sting a bit, start talking to distract you from it.”

“How’s...Mitchell doing?” Virgil emphasized the syllables of Elliott’s boyfriend with a particular hatred. “Any new assholic behaviors I should know about?” They rolled their eyes, starting to strap a bandage onto Virgil’s side.

“He’s fine, and we’re fine. I started seeing this new therapist, too.” They finished the bandage, and whatever that cream was really started to sting.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Dr. Picani.” Elliott nodded, smiling, they seemed to actually like this one. Unlike the last guy, who was, to say the least, a transphobic asshole. Virgil didn’t like to waste innocent lives, but there was a special place on his knife for those who hurt the one he considered a little sibling. “His methods are...unorthodox, but I think it’s going to work well.”

“And how does your boyfriend feel about you seeing him?” Virgil asked, eyebrows pinched in concern. Elliott shrunk back, though slightly, and grabbed another product to help with the bruises.

“It doesn’t matter.” That place on his knife? Mitchell was starting to qualify. “Speaking of love lives, though, how’s it with you-know-who?” They raised an eyebrow, slightly wiggling their shoulders.

“Fuck you,” Virgil lightly punched them in the shoulder, but couldn’t help the blushing grin from his face. “He’s extra, beautiful, strong as hell, and the other day he was singing to himself while he got ready. His voice is just incredible, I can’t believe that I live with an angel.” He stopped himself, meeting Elliott’s eyes and their knowing look. “And also, incredibly out of my league.”

“You’re wrong, but that’s something for another time.” Elliott stepped back, allowing Virgil’s shirt to fall over his injuries. “Those should only take a few hours to heal up, bounce coffee shops until the bandage adhesive starts to crust and loosen. Then you should be good to go home, but make sure to use the lotion I gave you every day to keep your skin okay. I just have one more thing, but I think we should talk as we walk, I need to get home.” They glanced over to the corner where they and Virgil had discovered the bug placed by Deceit. It wasn’t always running, but they had no way of knowing when it was.

“Okay,” Virgil grabbed his bag, trading his long coat for a hoodie, “Let’s go, then.”

They sat at a bus stop, waiting for a bus to pull up for Elliott. The wind blew Virgil’s purple streaked hair over to the other side, causing his companion to smirk. He watched as they fiddled with the hem of their skirt, obviously nervous for whatever they had to tell Virgil.

“I had a breakthrough.” Elliott jerked their head up to meet Virgil’s eyes, and stammered on despite his incredulous gaze. “On the fear toxin-esque chemical? Y’know the one he’s been forcing me to make?”

“Shit.” Was the most eloquent thing Virgil could muster.

“I haven’t tested it on humans, but the chemicals should act, when inhaled, as an extreme anxiety amplifier.” They looked so small, and so scared. Elliot had once said that their brain would be the death of them one day, and by their current state, Virgil couldn’t be sure it wouldn’t be. “Virgil, this thing that I’ve created, it could cause panic attacks that paralyze people. I–I don’t want him to have it.” At the last part their voice dropped to a whisper, and tears started to track down their face. Elliott sniffed and rubbed their cheeks, not looking up to meet Virgil’s eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Hey, hey,” Virgil crouched in front of them. “Breathe. I’ll figure something out, I promise. Just keep breathing.” They took a shuddering breath, matching Virgil’s strokes on their hand. “It’s okay. Just go home, hug your sister, and take a shower. It’ll be okay.” And as much as he wanted to believe that, Virgil didn’t know if he could.

Roman burst the door to his dorm open, expecting the apartment to as empty as he left it. Instead, he was confronted with his purple haired roommate. Shirtless. From the back, he was all lean muscle and sticking out shoulder blades, the curve of his hips falling into his perfectly shaped–

“Roman?” Virgil turned, pausing the toweling of his hair. Roman ripped his eyes up to Virgil’s (only after a glance at his abs, Roman could appreciate art), and nervously scratched his neck. “I wasn’t expecting you to come home this late.”

“Ditto, dude.” Look anywhere but him, you gay motherfucker, anywhere but him. “You’ve been like a ghost the past couple weeks.” It was true, they’d barely seen each other except for studying and occasional ramen breaks since Thanksgiving.

“Yeah, that’s my bad, I’ve been working on a film project that’s mostly being shot at night.” Virgil explained, pulling on a hoodie. Roman walked over to his bed, dropping down and kicking off his shoes. “What’s your excuse, Mr. Double Major?”

“Well, my fucking double major,” Roman laid back onto his pillow, relaxing a bit for the first time that day. “But also, trying to think of a Secret Santa gift for Logan?”

“Oh, that’s a toughie. I got Patton, and I have no ideas, ugh.” Virgil sighed into his hands, plopping cross legged onto his bed. He stuck out a lip, blowing the bangs out of his faces, which was far more endearing than Roman would ever admit.

“But then of course there’s finals,” Roman pulled out his laptop, opening the study spreadsheet that Logan had helped him make. When they had been roommates Roman’s freshman year, the tension and hatred between the two would take a knife to cut. But over time, new friends, growth, and two “frienterventions” (the name was Patton’s idea), they had overcome their differences.

“Oh god, don’t remind me,” Virgil stretched up, his hoodie riding up above his hips, and Roman found himself staring. Not at his body, but rather the faded purple bruises that adorned his hips. Virgil’s eyes narrowed in confusion, but after following Roman’s eyes, he dropped his arms, pulling his sweatshirt over his hips.

“Virgil–” Roman started to reach out, only to be cut off by the other man.

“I need to go shower.” He all but sprinted out of the dorm room, leaving Roman to fall back onto his bed, a million thoughts racing through his mind. And not a single one was good.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. He saw the bruises, even though Virgil had been so careful. He’d been so careful for two months not to come home if he was too beaten up, he’d been so careful to slather on Elliot’s cream whenever he could. He’d been so fucking careful, and yet Roman had still seen the marks.

He threw his towel over a hook, stripping down and turning the shower up as hot as it could go. It burned his skin, but he deserved it, deserved to have all his flesh stripped from his body for hurting him. Deserved to feel the ache on his sides turn to a roaring fire as he pressed inwards, curling into himself. Deserved to feel the hard force of metal on his back as he slammed into the wall of the shower stall, doing his best to breathe as the tears fell, but the oxygen was catching in his throat, and he couldn’t force it down. He stood there for a few minutes, and felt shadows start to envelope him, holding, comforting.

Slowly, he turned the water down, his energy drained from the tight spiral of shadows that still curled around his body.

“Virgil?” Logan’s voice filtered through the steam. Virgil heard the “shink” of the outer shower curtain opening and a muffled “What the hell?”

He turned, trying to collect his racing thoughts. “Logan, what the fuck are you doing?” Virgil thickened this shadows around his body, and he felt the energy leave his body. Logan pushed through the last curtain, a look of pure shock coming over his features. “This isn’t gay fanfiction, you can’t just waltz in here.”

“Well, at least explain all of this.” Logan asked, waving his hand through the lingering shadows. “Is it–is it some sort of concentrated element? It’s fascinating.”

“What? Okay, no, that isn’t–they’re shadows, Logan.” Virgil clenched and unclenched his fist. “Will you please let me put on some damn clothes?”

“Fine. But you are going to explain everything to me as soon as you’re done.” Logan crossed his arms, and Virgil wrapped a towel around himself, the shadows finally dissipating as he exhaled. “Seriously, though, how does it work? Do you conjure them, what the range on it–”

“LOGAN!” Virgil yelled, more forcefully than he intended. “I just had a fucking panic attack because Roman saw the bruises and found out I’ve been lying to him for months. Also, yes, I can manipulate shadows, it’s a sort of dark mattered energy that I’m not exactly certain how works.” Logan just stared at him, eyes wide in front of Virgil’s outburst. “It’s the reason that I kept running away from the homes, until I was fourteen and a fucking criminal mastermind or whatever you want to call him picked me up off the goddamn street.” He could feel the words slurring as he worked himself up, but he needed to tell someone, even if it was just shouting it at his best friend. “You know that guy, the one the news has dubbed ‘Anxiety’? That’s fucking me. I’ve been doing this shit for nine. Fucking. Years. And I’m trapped, and the only thing I can do is keep working for him, keep killing and stealing and breaking for him. I have to keep doing this because if I don’t, he’ll torture and kill everyone I love, and make me watch. I’m so scared, Logan. I’m so fucking scared that I can’t breathe sometimes.” His voice cracked on the last words, and a sob finally escaped his body. Logan reached out, but all Virgil could do was push him away, throw on his clothes, and escape into the starless night.

“Hello?” Phone calls from unknown numbers were something most people were accustomed to, but Elliott didn’t get four in a row from the same number at 1:37 in the morning most nights. Well, five, counting this one.

“Hello. I am attempting to reach Elliott?” They weren’t sure what was going on, but the person on the other side sounded panicked, so they sat up and closed their laptop.

“Yeah, that’s me. What do you need?” Elliot replied, and a heavy exhale came through the phone speakers.

“I’m Logan Xavier, and I’m trying to find Virgil Sanders.” As soon as they heard the words, something clicked inside Elliott. Virgil’s best friend Logan, who appeared to have been affected by the same injections that Elliott and Virgil had, and that his powers were interfacing with technology. How Logan didn’t know about their mutual friend’s shadows, and how Elliott was saved in a private section of Virgil’s computer and phone that could only be accessed if you knew where to look. Or, they guessed, if your brain could automatically hack any system you touched.

“He told you?”

“Yes.” Logan paused, and the weight of his words settled on Elliott’s shoulders. “And now he’s gone. I’ve looked everywhere, and you’re the only one in his contacts I don’t recognize.”

“Yeah,” Elliot threw on a pair of jeans and ran a hand through their hair. “Give me two hours, I can find him.” Logan let out a relieved sigh as Elliott pulled their jacket off its hook. “Oh, and Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Just let me talk to him, okay? I know where to look, and I know what to do.” They could practically feel the older man opening his mouth to interject. “As good as you are for Virgil in a lot of situations, this isn’t one of them.”

“I understand. Thank you, Elliott. Goodbye.” The line went dead, and Elliott opened their door, stepping out into the city at night.

“You know, sitting on the roof of an abandoned building at 2:30 in the morning kind of marks you as emo.” Virgil looked up from his stare at the tops of surrounding buildings to see Elliott climbing up the last rungs of the access ladder.

“And you joining me kind of marks you as one too.” He responded, smirking through his chapped lips and smudged makeup. “How did you know to look for me?”

“Logan called.” Virgil felt the smirk fall off his face as he turned back to the streets below him. “And we don’t have to talk about him.” He heard footsteps come closer as they neared the ledge he was perched on. “Just scooch over.”

“Well, how did you know where to find me?” Virgil couldn’t help but lean into his friend as he stared at the cars passing by.

“There’s trackers embedded in all your coats, and this was the third abandoned rooftop I checked.” Elliott chuckled under their breath. “Pigeons are much less impressed with my witty one-liners.”

“I have to keep them somewhere, and there’s a lot of abandoned rooftops in this city.” Virgil said in half-hearted protest. The coats were good, they had everything he’d ever needed on a job. And the fabric was warm and comforting, an he didn’t have the energy for any more shadows to blanket himself with.

Elliott leaned back, raising both hands in mock submission. “I wasn’t judging, just observing.”

“Well, they are made by a master of all seam work.” Virgil laughed, a real smile finally adorning his face.

“You flatter me, V.” They joined in his laughter, and Virgil cracked a few more jokes, letting the conversation flow into the night, the sounds of the city drowned out by the sounds of their happiness.

By 3:26, Roman had completely given up on sleep.

After Logan had left around 1:15 with Virgil’s contacts on his phone, Roman knew the night would be long. He’d poured a cup of tea, and cracked opened his textbook, attempt to read about possible respiratory issues in postanesthesia care unit.

By 1:43, Roman had completely given up on studying.

He opened his laptop, a fresh face mask applied to his skin. It was going to be a long night, so he figured that a little bit of Riverdale couldn’t hurt. As it turns out, after watching an episode and a half in his bed, Roman didn’t really care about who was a Southside Serpent and who kissed who. So, naturally, he decided to go to sleep.

That had clearly not panned out.

So that’s how he’d ended up at here, at 3:26, scrolling through his music library to find something to soothe his ever-heightening nerves. He clicked on a random Spotify mix, and opening guitar chords filtered from his speakers, Rihanna’s voice resounding through his speakers.

I think I’ve had enough.

I might get a little drunk.

Roman smiled, and for some reason the song reminded him of others. He started queuing up what he needed, slowly beginning to sing along to the woman he hailed as a queen.

Cause all of my kindness,

Is taken taken for weakness.

He laid back onto his bed, closing his eyes and losing himself for a moment. For a moment, every thought of Virgil, every thought of the purple clad villain almost constantly plaguing his thoughts, every thought about his classes and his upcoming show, they all dissipated. For a moment, he was lost in the beats and instrumentals and melodies. For a moment, he was lost and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be found.

But that moment was shattered as a very tired looking, beaten up Virgil stumbled through the door. He looked up with surprised as he saw Roman was still awake, and fumbled to pull off his headphones.

Roman stood up, his instinct telling him go to him, comfort him, before the events of earlier came crashing down onto his shoulders. He pulled back, giving Virgil some space, and ran a nervous hand through his hair.

“Virgil, I’m sorry about earlier. I overstepped my bounds, it was really uncool of me. I just want to apolo–”

“Roman, stop,” Virgil cut him off, his voice firm and low. Roman looked up at him, and watched a tense, forced smile plaster itself on his friend’s face. “Please. Can we just, can we just talk about this sometime else? I can’t–I can’t really talk about it right now.” He moved to sit on his bed, shedding his long coat and headphones. “Oh, is this that album you wanted me to listen to?”

Roman had completely forgotten the music that was still playing, and he tuned in to hear the first chorus of a song he’d been begging Virgil to listen to for months. Deciding to let the subject change, he switched his queue to the rest of the album, leaning back on his bed once more.

He wanted to say something, to comfort Virgil, but every time he opened his mouth the words died in his throat. There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do. There were his powers, of course, but how could he use them to protect Virgil when he didn’t know who was hurting him? If he asked, he could end up in a state like tonight, or worse. There was just no right thing to say or do, and Roman turned the thought over and over in his mind until a restless sleep finally claimed him.

[dailyjeons]

BTS account 13/10/18

didn’t do merch cause i did that in london, didnt go for studio cause that was probably not feasible with how our lines were going (at least i was too scared to do it).. sucks cause i didnt get allowed into the london booth while in the amsterdam booth everyone was queue-ing up anyways and getting in lol

bolding the subjects so you can skip parts that dont interest you

pre concert stuff So I was going to the concert with a person(Julie) I met through tumblr, she responded to my message asking if people wanted to queue up in GA with me cause I was alone. She was with a group of people and they basically adopted me so that was nice!!  Julie was super kind, constantly looking out for me, for my anxiety too and just I really loved being with her, time really flew!! We prioritized looking out for eachother over seeing the boys so I was really happy bout that! We basically queued up at 7AM in the 'unofficial line' that later on became the official one! Campers were sent out, I believe, but they probably came back early still! We still had a fairly decent spot I suppose? The camping out itself wasn't too stressful but I had a lot of anxiety bout being in the pit in a crowd of people, not havin bathroom breaks and being on 2 hours of sleep gjkfg Julie tried to reassure me through all of that. there were some fans giving out some stuff in the line!! like arts and stuff and i got this from a jimin fansite, i think she was japanese? 

it was so funny basically she did rock paper scissors with fans to determine if they’d win.. i lost but she gave it to me anyways?? LOL she didnt give it to anyone else that lost LOL

gettin into pit Eventually we got in and fortunately my tickets worked!! We like rushed into the left side but the view was not bad, ok, then we tried for the right side and we got similar views? But I think overall it was just a little better! We were around the sixth/fifth row in the pit but we moved up a bit to the fifth/fourth during the concert. I had a fairly good view on the stage, and could see the boys clearly!! I still used my iphone to film cause of the amazing quality zoom it has and i have so much gooood footage ahhhh my hands are super shaky though so thats annoying but oh well, its something! they like handed out water very often thank god so i could cool off and drink durin the concert!! we had to stand for like 3 hours inside so i was getting really nervous but once the concert started it was fine!!

concert Anyways the concert itself was mindblowing? They're actually sosososo good live it's actually insane how they sing live through their choreo or while bouncing around. Tear is still my favorite performance but the crowd went a little too wild around then so i didnt enjoy it as much :( They also did the medley I prefered (w Baepsae) which made so happy cause i got to experience both medleys now jdskfhfsdf.. i do feel like the performances were better for the London date, but the interactions and the boys happiness were on a much higher level in Amsterdam, especially with jungkook flying around trying to dance!! That said I felt like the crowd fell a little bit flat.. When the Jimin/Namjoon VCR was playing everyone was screaming initially for both but after a hot minute they like only screamed for Jimin?? The silence was actually deafening so Julie and I decided to help with Namjoon's screams then, and it was so disappointing we were legitimately the only 2 people screaming for him in such a venue lol. Crowd did however go wild at Kim Seokjin's performance, and IT'S WHAT HE DESERVES. Overall I think Seokjin and Jimin had the best reactions in Amsterdam, and London both.

impressions on boys As for the boys. Gonna be honest with y'all I was so busy filming Jungkook solo all day that I didn't really notice others?? fdjkghdf since i already had thel ondon date i figured today was jungkook's day now i had sights on him proper.. Some notes, Yoongi, Jimin and Namjoon spoke some Dutch and it was super cute!! Yoongi did it first fjgdkhfdg 

Yoongi: Super smol but big hands, and fluffy cheeks (he bloats really easily lolol) his see saw performance was REALLY good today too, i feel like reaction to seesaw is the best, everyone's always singing the whole song w it while most of the crowd struggled with their title tracks in both london and amsterdam LOLLL yoongi must be so proud over it.. also he's the first to speak in dutch to us but it was like really suddenly right before they were performing so nobody really noticed fjghkdfg and u know when he makes a dad joke and he smiles flustered, but nobody reacts to his jokes.. he did that thing LOLLL

Namjoon; very long and slender, his legs are legit 70% of his body and he went offffff today like when he's into shit like tear i cry cuz oh my god merCY kjdfhgdhjkfg Namjoon seemed to really love Amsterdam tbh he kept talking bout stuff to do while the others had fairly standard stuff to say, with a lot of repeat from the london concert too (which is fine vconsidering its hard for themt o speak in eng too)

Hoseok: He looks a lot sharper irl?? im not sure if i said differently last time, but now i saw him up close he's definitely much more handsome, cameras dont do him justice.. also he always has the most gentle smile on his face and it calmed me down a lot jkfgh

Taehyung: tbh im not sure if i missed him but i didnt really see him on my side a lot? i think like a few times i tried to film but couldnt really get it..?? julie did tho.. he's kind of.. small? but not small like yoongi but small like i'd confuse him for a high school kid.. BUT his face?? is really smth else his face is SO small but his features are sooooooo big and sharp.. god himself shaped this boy

Jin: ok yeah this man is 10000% more handsome irl liek i was filmin jk and lost focus and then jin appeared and i almost dropped my phone cause what the fuck?? hes GORGEOUS.. he didnt do the forehead/glasses look today though, unfortuantely cause jesus christ that was something else. he was bein a crackhead to jk again today rofll

jimin: he's legit a fairy irl lol it doesnt make sense.. like.. he's... really pretty....... super super super pretty, guys like legitimiately glowing.. he was super playful today and he seemed really happy to perform on his birthday which is super pure considering.. who likes working on their birthday? he like moved his dressshirt/blouse off shoulder a bit during the fake love portion of the set and oh ym god h..e..........HE... his collar... i want 2 kiss it.......platonically.

as for jimin's birthday.. omg he's so cute? they were at the extended stage when his birthday message came up (a message in dutch) and he like instantly rushed back to the main stage to show off his birthday message and he proceeded to talk in dutch about how it's his birthday, and how army are his gift?? it was suuuper cute!! imagine Jimin practicing his dutch just for this moment fdgkjhdf

jungkookie!!

Anyways onto ma boy!! Jungkook is absolutely unreal pretty. He didn't look as bloated/pained today so i guess i saw The Jungkook today and he's so.. sharp looking??? like his jawline and cheekbones are insane and like the dimple?? ughhhhh he looked a lil smaller now i was upclose but his thighs were still gods gift.. also he did forehead kookie instead of coconut kookie, i remain blessed.. he always hears my prayers..

throughout the show he was honestly super cute, he kept dancing in his chair to the choreo, spinning in circles while doing it, hopping around the stage slowly to wave and look at every fan.. he even looked towards me at some point but i legitimately dodged and turned away cause like I FELT SO GReaYS ANd i'd rather not have him see me like that lmaooo anyways it's so super cute how despite his injury he still tries to give it his all at all times, and now he could walk around he's instantly back at trying to make interactions with all fans?? a precious baby honestly!!

his ending ment was really-really sweet as well and it always amazes me how eloquent he can get when he gets to share us his real feelings.. i really am glad he's not too disappointed in himself anymore and has reached a point where he's just working on getting better instead<3!!

other than that, just like in london.. jungkook's vocals are insane. i don't care that he's not top tier vocalist in terms of technique but he got smth completely else and thats' how comffortably he can move around in his range and remain stable and it's just.. so amazing to hear him hit certain notes with almost.. ease? voice never cracks even after 23948234 songs it's so sickkkk

anyways this was definitely one of the best nights in my life.. despite allt hes tress and anxiety.. i’m sosoosos glad i went through all of this for that.. i had the greatest company and ended up having the greatest experience<3

[thevelonaut]

Homefront.

This is absolutely classics country. Fortunately, any semblance of romance gives way, quickly, to pain and frustration. On the way South East, I’d known in my heart of hearts that a tailwind (and occasionally swipey cross-wind) was helping me out. I knew that I’d be turning back into it, and that however gentle it felt as we wandered the streets of Brux, it would be multiplied significantly as I crept back across the ridgey-flats of the North West. The reason that the early-season classics are a hotch-potch of gurn, of hellish faces and awful weather, is much the same as the reason why this was a crap place for a crap war; once the sun goes in (and to some extent when it’s out), the endless flat lands, farm smells, headwinds, sideways drizzle and cobbled tracks become as steadfast an obstacle as the Pyrenean cols, the switchbacks of d’Huez, the ramps of the mighty Lecht. I’d prefer some hardy cols to this. It’s the kind of place suited for those broad-shouldered monsters of the old days, who could puncheur into wind like a force of nature. I can, for a bit. For a little bit.

The fifth day / Brussels → Ieper

Ypres, the French call it. Some five days (and 100 years) after the Battle of Paschendaele, I roll into Ypres through the Menenpoort. I say roll, I think it was the least uphill-feeling part of the day. I’d hung out with HC, her brother and sister-in-law in Brussels for two days. I’d had a cheeky swim to spin my legs, I’d noted a twinge in my groin which I imagine is due to over-cranking a gear for 200k, loaded with luggage, and not ever stretching it en route. I curse it. It needs rest, two days probably won’t cut it, and the Cambium isn’t so comfy after a four or five hour day. Maybe leather is better. I think so. I’ll flog it.

Anyway, I was up and out at 8am; the paths and back streets of Brussels are fairly easy to navigate, and the sun was out to remind me to head in a NWerly direction. I ended up on the ring-road and saw no way to head further north without a) riding on a motorway or b) turning back and trying again from about 3 miles back. With a 90-mile day ahead, I decided to head for Aalst, due west of Brussels, then turn to the north-west after about 30km. It wasn’t the worst idea. The pastoral, calm canalside riding that had seen me down seemed to desert me; instead, I was often on paths alongside the murder roads of NW Belgium, caning it up decentish-tracks and pavements, lamenting the canopied, wind-free joyfest of days two and three. This is another of my problems - I never set out a good return trip. Or, perhaps, I am so addled by the sense of return that I fail to enjoy what is nice about it. Or, the wind is a hell-ferret that never stopped in its attempts to break me. Eventually I stopped at a Spar and sprayed my face with Appletiser, and at 2.30pm when the sun hot-spongs for a spell, I applied suncream and ate a baguette and houmous on a housing estate by a dual carriageway. If it sounds exciting, then it is. I picked up a little of that TCR spirit. Fuck the views.. they all look like this anyway. 

They do. Seriously. I did about 90k of this. There were marginally more leaves on the trees, but most of them were blowing into my face. Still, it is pancake flat, ironing board, smooth as Christ riding. Let’s not mince words. Easy-hard. Or hard-easy.

I get to Oudenaarde, then Wevelgem, and hit the final 20k to Ypres where I know there is a campings. Those last km are sign-posted all to hell with Commonwealth War Graves. Evocative names, famous craters, hills, memorials, regiments; atop the ridgeline, white crosses, monoliths and megaliths, the bright stalagmites that point to where most peoples innards ended up; scattered into the pressing wind, lovely human beings fractioned into micro-particles, cast into a land ever-fertile for the growing of war-dead cabbages and sprouts. They say each breath you take will contain at least an oxygen molecule that Julius Caesar himself would have inhaled. (They don’t say that in the song. They should.) Along the Menen road, you are sucking in the literal and figurative remains of almost a whole generation of human beings.

I don’t like it. I’d seen Ypres was en route to Dunkirk, from where I spring home, and figured that it made sense to pass through. If I did a long-day-short-day two-day ride then I could stay here. I crept in through the gate; the sun is now out glorious, and the town is a magnificent sight. HC navigates me (she’s in London, having taken a bus to the station in Brussels, a train to London, and a bus home in the time it has taken me to yam some houmous in a lay-by) to the campsite; it’s a nice one, if you ignore the Canadian grave-baggers in the mobile homes, the people wearing T-shirts that name regiments and feature photographs of eternally-young great-great-uncles. I put up camp, wash, and stroll to Lidl to bag the last baguette, 3-flavour houmous (oh MY ACTUAL GOD THIS IS AMAZING) and a tin of mackerel. Whilst I demolish this on Ypres square, I note a bunch of people dressed in their going-out clothes walking purposely through town. I’d forgotten that they play The Last Post every night at the Gate, and ambled along covered in beetroot and parsnip dip to pay my respects.

Except I didn’t really know how to. Or why I should? TO what, exactly, am I paying respect? And where are the Germans? Why is the Poort covered with only the Allied dead? And it’s nice that we honour the Indian regiments, when they were forced to dig so many trenches and graves, and be treated like shit for the privilege. Plus, I recently read that an explicit promise to release India from the Commonwealth in return for military support was never honoured. So, really, the whole thing leaves a strange taste in the mouth. Not just the race, the nationalism, the anti-nationalism, the visible lack of outreach; the spectacle itself feels like a fetish. There cannot be a person here who actually knew the dead of Ypres; too much time has gone by. And it is important that we honour this stupidity in order that we may not see its like again. But the crowds, the iPhones, the inane chat when it’s finished. I wasn’t in the mood. Is it the case that a ride across the Maginot Line is the perfect pace to consider the distance and futility of a war that became a mass-grave, formed into a perfect borderline? The Last Post had been, on some unconscious level, playing in my head for hours. It’s the soundtrack of a dark, sad place. So, so sad.

I woke at 6.30am the next day and hotfooted it out of town.

The sixth day / Ieper → Dunkirk → Dover → London Bridge → My bed.

The roads from Ypres to the border were quiet, uneventful, still windy. I got lost two or three times. I’d cycle later this month with my friend Ed, who uses Strava and Garmin and magic; the ease of navigation with devices astounds me. It picks out exactly where you are, and tells you exactly where to go. I almost give in to the temptation to update my by-now 4 year-old Blackberry to something worth a shit, that could do such things. Handlebar mounts for phones don’t do it for me, though. I use every square millimetre of space on a handlebar for, well, my hands. So... not yet. The phone still works. I got lost. Added six miles onto a 40-mile day. Nae bother.

I reached Oost-Capel after a spell of anonymity. I craved a coffee, hoped this French border town would have someplace to sit. It did not.. Belgian towns are decidedly absent of cafes, I know not why. It’s one of those subtle differences; you feel as if you are in France, but it’s the upside-down version. Instead of a nice cafe, there are about ten border guards sleepily waving down cars, mirror-checking the chassis, asking where people are off to. It’s an unsettling sight, but they wave me right by. (The guards at the port would later give me the same bored wave-through. I’m not carrying weapons of mass destruction (400k of fixed touring has savaged my groin and patella, mind you) but it’s both curious and somewhat alarming that a bike can get through to the ferry easily.)

There’s a nice small walled city called Bergues, where I stop for a brew. I dip the remains of last night’s baguette into it, soaking up about half that black glorious. I love soaking bread in coffee, but even though I still get the coffee, I feel like I’m denying myself something. Bergues is right pretty; I trace the little canal network to the North and take a cycle path alongside a canal to Dunkirk. It’s the nicest part of the day. I reach Dunkirk at about 12.30pm, and orbit the old town for an hour or so, then take the dock road up toward the ferry port. I load my bright pink musette with a lunch from Lidl, carry it over a motorway overpass, under a gyratory, behind a Travelodge, past some cranes, around ten roundabouts, over another autoroute, along a busy truck road, around a slag pile and just beneath some fire-spewing chimneys. The ferry port is not a pretty place. Pretty, in that industrial sense, which is to say not so pretty at all. I eat lunch in the weird cafe where no staff work, only machines; it’s a post-Marxist approach to the service industry. I wonder if the docking ferry in front of me is driven by a human being. I think about all those human beings who waited for a boat home in 1940 and all the ones that never got a chance to leave the cruddy fields of Flanders. I am covered in houmous, again, at a moment of silent contemplation. The world is a calm sea, choppy in the middle, and some white chalky downs that leap out of the channel at Dover. Everyone takes photographs of the sharp teeth of England’s mouth, opening up in a bucolic snarl to gobble up its visitors. Pretty soon, I am in torrential rain outside Dover station, throbbing legs, pack of peanuts, Spar lemon-lime and a newspaper to tell me what I missed.

Tour over. Legs recover. I pull out of London Bridge and spin crazy-legs to home. HC makes porridge. The sun goes down.