#had me in the theater PRAYING for his death

[allpromarlo]

viola davis is physically unable to not slay. she just does it whenever the camera is on her

[steveharrington]

can you elaborate more on steve being abandoned by the narrative?

yes <3 so i think there are two very unfortunate circumstances surrounding steve's character that have led to the current state of his plotline: 1. after not killing him in s1 like they originally planned, the duffers have never really had a plan for steve and 2. they are extremely influenced by audiences. when they were conceptualizing steve to fit in among the ensemble cast, the duffers were picturing him as a douchey boyfriend who unceremoniously dies. lonnie was originally going to come back to the byers house to save jonathan and nancy. there was no need to picture where he'd be 4 seasons down the road, so they just didn't account for that. then joe keery charmed them so hard that they literally couldn't bear to kill him, so steve ends season one still somehow alive.

but we've already established the nancy/jonathan plotline, because jonathan was once the duffers' self-insert who must defeat the evil jock and win over the girl. they couldn't just backpedal on that right away, so they needed to give nancy and jonathan a plotline alone, away from steve. but steve only ever functioned as an extension of nancy until this point, so what do we do with steve now? in an accidental stroke of genius that the duffers have admitted was a last second decision, they pair him with the children and make him into a babysitter. it almost instantly boosts steve into being tied with hopper and el for most popular character from the show, potentially even beats them both out. in 2017 when s2 aired, you could not escape mom steve jokes. it was everywhere, steve was everywhere, joe was everywhere, it was arguably the second coming of #justice for barb, which, in netflix business-y terms, was the exact viral meme type situation that the show wanted and needed to sell merch and remain relevant and say "see we still got it!!!"

you know who has the 2nd most lines in the entirety of season three? directly behind hopper? ahead of winona ryder? steve. think for a second about how absolutely insane that is. the character who was written specifically to die in season one. joe keery's name wasn't even in the season one credits, because he wasn't considered a series regular. and now he has the 2nd most spoken lines in the big blockbuster season because he rocketed up in popularity so intensely. season three marketing features the mall so heavily, creates a literal physical shrine to 80s nostalgia, and when the very first promo is released an entire year before the season airs, who's the star of that teaser trailer? and who, pray tell, is featured in the main brand sponsorship ad that plays in movie theaters worldwide? thats right its america's little darling steve harrington.

but here is the issue. the duffers look at what made steve popular and they see: funny exasperated babysitter, heartthrob action hero. they're like oh okay so we should keep putting him directly in the center of the action, bang him up every season to give him his classic bloodied aesthetic, but. he still needs to be funny. we can almost kill him, but we can't actually kill him because he's profitable. we can let him get horrifically injured because it's badass, but we still gotta let him crack jokes. it creates this very weird tone to steve's role in the story starting in season 3 because he's both the action hero and the comedic relief and protected by plot armor, so we get scenes where he's being literally tortured until he's begging for his life and gasping for breath but the tone is still.......fun? comedic? light and goofy? i think the duffers also forgot he's supposed to be a teenager.

now this is partially me making educated guesses but i feel pretty confident about this: once again, like gollum, joe keery uses his big shiny eyes and manages to evade death again in season four by being so likable and charming and marketable that netflix execs or shawn levy or maybe even the duffers themselves were like oh fuck we just can't do it. they were obviously tossing around the idea of taking mom steve all the way by letting him die sacrificially for dustin, so in season four they make eddie, transfer steve's relationship with dustin directly onto him, ctrl f steve's name in the death scene and just type in eddie instead, and once again steve is alive but he's directionless.

so what does he have now, in season four? i think the duffers have a whiteboard somewhere with steve's name and around it are little circles that say "funny" "cool" "DO NOT KILL" and steve is now stuck in this endless cycle of getting beaten up, popping back up somehow unharmed like a looney tune, saying something cute and oblivious, rinse and repeat. because that's what worked, that's what made him popular all the way back in season two. that's what the duffers are obviously keeping in mind when they're writing steve: popularity. not realism, not depth, not growth, just literally how to continue making him popular. meanwhile, other characters get to be part of the actual story. other characters get to serve a purpose other than selling merch. when el is bitten by a monster, she gets to actually feel pain and need help because that's realistically what any human would need. when hopper is tortured, he gets to suffer and ponder his existence and reflect on the relationships in his life. steve never gets any of that, because the writers just don't see steve as the 19 year old boy on his 4th straight year of traumatic events that he actually is.

they literally just see him as a money maker, there for cool viral moments and witty lines and maybe the occasional emotion experienced but only if it's about his romantic prospects. and the narrative that other characters get to have and be apart of just kinda runs parallel to steve. he's there, technically, but he's not really in the story. and it's like actually crazy because you'd think after all the funko pops he sold, he'd have earned an actual storyline!!!

[hp-hcs]

Mattheo Riddle and Draco Malfoy x he/him

Yanderes au

He’s a pureblood who was forced to be a death eater, like them. And they get this overwhelming possessive urge to protect him from anyone and anything.

When he’s in pain they can’t - seriously can’t even think of leaving him alone. They’re physically hurt seeing him in pain. If he’s struggling they are going to help, whether he asks for it or not. If someone hurts him? Hell even if Voldemort himself hurts him? Even he wouldn’t survive their wrath.

They see themselves in him. But also not, because they wouldn’t care for themselves the way they care for him. They wouldn’t isolate themselves as they do with him. They don’t love themselves. Like how they are sickenly obsessed with him.

They don’t really let him do anything for himself because of their obsession. What if his bag clip breaks and cuts his hand? Yeah no. They’ll get Goyle to carry it for you. What? He’s feeling hungry? Don’t even think about getting up. They’ll order a house elf to make the best there is. He’s being sent on a death eater mission? Oh they think not. Never again. Never again.

i’ll be honest, i have like five very similar requests in my inbox already, so i kind of just skimmed this one until those last four lines hit me like a fucking TRUCK

! five part series; each part has six chapters ! (ambitious, i’m aware)

.・。.・゜✭・. ☾ ⋆*・。.・゜✭・.

『 Never Again 』

Yandere! Good! Draco Malfoy x Male! Reader x Yandere! Good! Mattheo Riddle

【 Part One — The Lesser of Two Evils (We Were Children) 】

Chapter One — Nobodies (Who Are You? Are You Nobody Too?)

.・。.・゜✭・. ☾ ⋆*・。.・゜✭・.

❝ I'm Nobody! Who are you? Are you - Nobody - too? Then there's a pair of us! Don't tell! they’d advertise - you know! How dreary - to be - Somebody! How public - like a Frog - To tell one’s name - the livelong June - To an admiring Bog! ❞ — “I’m Nobody! Who are you?”, Emily Dickinson

.・。.・゜✭・. ☾ ⋆*・。.・゜✭・.

Mattheo Riddle and Draco Malfoy had majorly fucked up five times in their lives.

The first was, of course, choosing to take the Dark Mark and swear allegiance to the Dark Lord—deadly ultimatum or not.

(Choosing is a strong word, though. They didn’t choose. They were told.)

They were fourteen.

~~~

An honor, they were told it was.

A once in a lifetime opportunity, their mothers crooned while stroking their hair. How proud you’ll make your father.

Proud, they repeated in their minds. I’ll make everyone proud.

They kept repeating the sentiment, even as their flesh sizzled and crackled, darkened and flaky around the edges of the new and never-healing burn.

Even as they were sharply dismissed from the Death Eaters’ meeting without so much as a glance from their fathers.

Even as the boys went back to their respective rooms in Malfoy Manor—where Lord Voldemort had decided to set up shop with his army of loyal sycophants—and bandaged up their arms.

Even as they both cried themselves to sleep—praying for Someone to rescue them from this self-inflicted hell—they repeated the sentiment, over and over.

They’ll tell me they’re proud of me. They will.

But Nobody did.

~~~

“Good. Now kill him,” Lord Voldemort hissed in his son’s ear, his hand holding the elbow of Mattheo’s wand arm steady. “Just like we practiced.”

Mattheo licked his chapped lips, steeling himself as he eyed the pleading Muggle man before him.

“Sir- b-boy, please! I- I’ve done n-nothing-”

“Avada Kedavra.”

The Muggle dropped like a rock, his pleas sharply cut off as he fell backwards. His skull made a sickening crack! as it hit the fine marble flooring of the Malfoy manor.

A slow and twisted grin of glee crossed Lord Voldemort’s face. “A-ha! Very good, Mattheo. Well done. Brilliant form, perfect diction…”

(The Dark Lord was not a stupid man. He knew how much his validation affected his son, and he knowingly used that to his advantage.)

“Nephew, come here. Your turn.”

Draco gulped and stepped forward as Mattheo returned to the edge of the Malfoy family’s ballroom-turned-execution-theater. The two cousins traded a glance as they passed one another, both sharing the same thought.

They’d become child soldiers, plain and simple.

Death Eaters.

A pair of Nobodies, doomed to be Somebodies.

Their arms itched.

.・。.・゜✭・. ☾ ⋆*・。.・゜✭・.

[a-lilypad]

@jegulus-microfic | april 5: slap | 1.3k words

a little theater rivals to lovers au where reg and james are double casted to the same role and james rips the only costume they have the day of regulus' opening night (cw: slight violence)

big big smooch to @ecstarry for the idea ily <3

A loud ripping sound echoed through the auditorium, causing everyone to immediately stop what they were doing, despite being in the middle of a scene. Even in the shadowed wings, Regulus’ expression was very visible and did not bode well for the rest of the cast. 

Or more specifically, for James Potter. 

Regulus’ jaw had dropped slightly, leaving his mouth agape, and a look of complete disbelief in his eyes. Shaking his head slightly, he seemed to come back to himself, shock morphing into an intense red-hot rage. It ran through his veins, replacing his blood, burning through everything in its path and was radiating from him in waves. 

Creating pure destruction and leaving only anger clouding Regulus’ mind, shown by the hardening of his eyes and clenching of his fists. 

He felt his nails dig into the soft flesh of his palm, nearly piercing the skin but instead forming harsh pink dents. Though they’d be nearly impossible to see through the already purpling bruises there.

Maybe Sirius was right and he needed to find better coping mechanisms… he could unpack that at a different time.  

At that moment he had more important things to deal with, such as James Potter, his theatre rival of three years, ripping the only costume they had the morning of their performance opening. 

“I can not fucking believe you, Potter!”

He started towards the horror-struck boy, stomping across the stage, and swung his arm with as much force as he could garner. The sound of the slap masked horrified gaps from the cast members on stage, but couldn’t hide the way Potter’s head flew to the side. 

Huh. Maybe Regulus was stronger than he thought. 

As Potter stared at him with an emotion he couldn’t quite identify, (because, while he knew Potter wasn’t the sanest of people, there was no way he was crazy enough to be looking at the person who’d just slapped him hard enough to knock him back a few steps with awe) Regulus shook out his hand with a wince. That had fucking hurt. 

“REGULUS!” his Drama teacher, Mr Slughorn, shouted. He had an annoying nasally voice that went right through him, he genuinely hated the man but he usually loved acting enough to let it slide. This was not one of those moments. 

“Wha-why-you” he rambled, hands frantically waving around “Why on Earth would you slap Mr Potter?” 

“He just ripped my fucking costume! We don’t have another, what was I meant to do? I can’t go on stage naked,” Regulus complained. 

He knew it was a bad idea the minute Slughorn had suggested Potter run through a final dress rehearsal. He was B cast! It was A cast’s night which meant it was Regulus’ night. 

Potter was looking at him strangely, his brows were furrowed slightly, almost as if he too was confused. He was staring at him with both reverence and irritation. Then in a split second, the irritation took over and he came out of his stupor. 

“You could have maybe, I don’t know, not fucking hit me?” he snapped, “it’s not like I did it on purpose!” 

Regulus scoffed, “You definitely did!” and stepped even closer to Potter, pointing his finger at him and pushing it into his chest, “You’ve been praying for my downfall since the second you saw me beat you, just admit it, I am better.” 

“ENOUGH!” bellowed Slughorn, Regulus had completely forgotten he was there, in fact, he’d forgotten anyone else was in the room with them. That was weird. “Both of you are to go to the supply closet and find something else for Mr Black to wear tonight, we’ll have something somewhere.” 

Huffing and sending Potter a death glare, Regulus swiftly turned around and stormed off stage, hearing Potter’s footsteps behind him as confirmation he was being followed. 

Great. This was exactly what he needed. Alone time with James Fucking Potter. He hated him. He had since the first time Regulus auditioned for a school musical in year 8. 

He remembered being so scared, he was shaking and praying he wouldn’t vomit up his organs, then Potter flounced in, all big hair and a cocky smile. He barely even spared Regulus a look before announcing to the other people in the room that Regulus would never get the part and he’d be stuck playing a tree in the background. 

He was right of course, Regulus had been so nervous he’d fucked his audition completely and had ended up not even having a single line. 

Potter got the lead. 

He vowed that day to never let Potter beat him to a role again, and so far he hadn’t, managing to get the male lead in every performance since. 

Ranting under his breath, Regulus continued listening to Potter’s footsteps, praying that he’d trip over something and fall flat on his face. Sadly, that did not happen and they both arrived at the storage closet unharmed.

Well, except for Potter’s face, a bright red mark was blossoming across his cheek. In his room, Regulus had a shelf of little trophies and awards he’d earned, but this was the most valuable. He wanted to take a picture of it and display it like a tapestry. He’d wanted to knock the crooked smile of his face for years now.

“What the fuck are you smiling about, this is your fault” Potter snapped, reaching forward to push the door open, having to bang it a bit, it had been given to the drama department after the lock had broken leaving it so that you can only open it from the outside.

“My fault?!” Regulus seethed, anger rearing up again as he followed Potter into the closet, “I’m sorry, did I rip the costume? Because, now forgive me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure that was you!”

“I’ve said already it was an accident, god you’re insane”

“I’m insane? Are you fucking joking? I’ll show you insane” Regulus snapped stepping into Potter’s space.

The door slammed behind them and a loud click told them it had locked. 

Well fuck.

Potter stared at him for a second before bursting into laughter. Curling over, wiping away tears, booming laughter, while Regulus wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and disappear. 

“What by locking us in a confined space together? Great plan Reggie” he choked out, still cackling.

Regulus ran a hand through his hair, messing up the precise curls. “Don’t call me that!” then turned to start pulling at the door, desperate to set them free, but no matter how hard he pulled at the handle it wouldn’t budge.

“Stop laughing at me” Regulus mumbled, hitting his head against the door and groaning, the situation was embarrassing enough without Potter taking the piss.

The laughing trailed off suddenly and Regulus cocked an eyebrow suspiciously, not expecting to actually be listened to. Potter was gawking at him, eyes sparkling, his jaw dropped slightly. 

Narrowing his eyes, Regulus met his gaze, “What?” he sneered.

Potter slowly moved towards him and tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear, his face fell from anger to confusion and Regulus was holding his breath. He wasn’t sure why. It felt like all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Their eyes locked and the world around them disappeared.

Then they were kissing, lips meeting bruisingly, and Regulus didn’t know who had moved first. It was desperate and hungry, tongues exploring each other's mouths and breathy gasps being shared between them. Potter’s hands threaded through his hair and pulled, causing his lips to part around a guttural moan.

He grabbed Potter by the shoulders and shoved him slightly, leaving about an inch between their faces, “This means nothing, I still fucking hate you” he mumbled into Potter’s mouth then he grabbed his face and pulled him in again and proceeded to practically eat him alive.

[itstokkii]

I've been considering making this post for a while but hesitated since I don't wanna beat a dead horse.

I'd like you to look at this post looking back at the Andijan massacre. What started as people protesting issues like distribution of gas, electricity, and other human needs and rights ended in a bloodbath. A cousin of mine told me schools taught it as "the national guard protecting civilians from Islamist terrorists."

I'd also like you to look at this paper by the Human Rights Watch on the torture and persecution of Uzbek Muslims like me during Islam Karimov's 20 years of dictatorial rule. Even Uzbek Muslims outside of Uzbekistan weren't safe. Multiple family friends of mine were randomly tackled to the ground and arrested by Korean Police on accounts of "domestic terrorism" in Uzbekistan, and some were only released about 5 years ago.

You weren't allowed to wear hijabs(even in Islamic universities), openly pray, read the Quran, or do anything religious. Someone would always be there watching to report you.

I wasn't allowed to go outside by myself around my neighborhood due to Uzbek government agents kidnapping the children of Uzbek diaspora abroad. I wasn't allowed to wear a hijab until after we went to Uzbekistan 2 years after Karimov's regime ended, and we made sure it was safe there and back. I wasn't even allowed to visit the country to see my relatives for almost a decade because of the crackdown on Uzbek Muslims.

When Uzbekistan was colonized by Russia as the Uzbek SSR and even before then as Turkestan, Russia made sure to stamp out religion entirely. They killed off scholars and poets like Cholpon, who wrote about Uzbek self-determination and praised religious texts. Uzbekistan's first leadership since its independence carried on with this policy, with Russian colonial values ingrained into them.

As for Korea, our partition was opposed by the whole peninsula. When Jejuans protested the US-UN backed elections, it ended in 10% of Jeju's population being killed by joint US-Korean forces. Though the South Korean Government apologized for the first time recently, the US stays silent. What a surprise. The bodies of these Jejuans were buried in mass pits and had the Jeju Airport built on top of it.

The US still fails to apologize for the No Gun Ri Massacre, in which the US Army murdered about 300 Korean villagers despite knowing they were civilians and therefore not targets. The US also indiscriminately bombed North Korea with more bombs than they had in the Pacific Theater in World War 2, martyring almost 2 million Koreans.

After the Korean War followed almost 30 years of dictatorship by Syngman Rhee, then a military junta, then Park Chung Hee and Chun Doo Hwan. During this time, university students protesting the dictatorial rule established by the US were arrested as "anti communists," and be tortured repeatedly, sometimes even until death.

Though the Seodaemun Prison is known for being Japan's colonial prison where they arrested independence activists, the Korean dictatorships used it to arrest people in favor of democracy.

The Namyeong-Dong Anti-Communist Investigation Office was a similar prison, in which one of the floors had extremely thin, narrow windows to avoid prisoners from escaping. Park Jong Cheol, a Seoul National University student who was protesting against Korea's military dictatorship at the time, was incarcerated here and routinely tortured. He eventually died due to water torture.

The Gwangju Massacre was a protest held by many activists against Chun Doo Hwan's dictatorial rule, which came about as he staged a coup and successfully overthrew the previous government. As they called for democracy, Chun Doo Hwan brought the national army, who fired upon, killed, and raped the protesters. Chun Doo Hwan was never held responsible for his crimes before he died, and his grandson recently apologized to the victims and their loved ones. It was found that the US approved Chun Doo Hwan's plans to use armed forces on the protesters in Gwangju.

Though the Gwangju Massacre is taught about in Korea, much of the US involvement and responsibility of the horrors of the dictatorship is left out.

The US does not allow Korea to produce its own nuclear arsenal, allowing Korea to rely entirely on the US for nuclear support. Additionally, the existing presence of the USFK in Korea and their joint training sessions with the ROK army further provokes North Korea and therefore gives the US a "justification" to maintain its military presence in Korea.

Growing up I was taught where to look for nearby nuclear shelters. We visited the War Memorial of Korea multiple times, and air raid sirens are rare but are happening more often recently.

This, along with the added danger of living as Uzbek diaspora outside of Uzbekistan as Muslims.

So when I say "please respectfully depict Russia and the US when it comes to the Cold War in a way that does not center them entirely" and "please keep the gravity of their actions in mind as you write them; Hetalia does not exist in an apolitical vacuum,"

and I am met with "mature adults" telling me that "they're just characters," or

"i'm the one ruining the fandom," or

"block and move on," or

"i love russia and america cold war!!!" or

"you're crazy" or

"moralf*g" or

"someone's sensitive"

and especially from russian artists who call me an "American SJW." russians calling me an uzbek overly sensitive for asking that they portray their country a little more respectfully to the victims of their colonialism. yeah that's completely normal

you are normalizing centering discussions about the Cold War to the imperial core, and then having nothing of substance to say about and being absolutely insensitive towards someone who's life has been and still are dictated by these imperial forces, and even harrassing them.

where's the "block and move on" mentality you prided yourselves for?

this fandom hasn't changed since the 2010s. it's just more quiet in the way it marginalizes victims of colonialism.

oh, and that person who told me to "block and move on, sister!!!" when it comes to me explaining myself as an uzbek-korean muslim?

you're not one to talk. 네가 뭘아는데 ㅅㅂ새끼야

[lettingtimepass]

I WAS AT THE NERDY PRUDES SHOW WHERE THEY LOST POWER!!!

Here is my spoiler-free recounting!

After over a decade of being a Starkid fan, I traveled 3,000 miles to see Nerdy Prudes!! (The date just happened to align with a trip I was planning.) It was so surreal being in the theater! I saw Producer!Dylan and Corey L. running around with their headsets. Then right before the show started I saw Joe Moses and Tessa walk in. Also two rows ahead of me was someone in a Spiderman hat... I was like... Is that Nick Lang? No... why would he be in the middle of the audience? Later I found out I was right 😂

For context, it was raining really hard in LA and the streets were flooding. LA is not used to rain so they're not well equipped to deal with it.

Act 1 went great and then shortly after Act 2 started, BAM, the lights went off. Everyone froze. The person in the light booth said "We've just lost power." Then, Nick Lang stood up and said, "It's going to be okay everyone, we'll figure this out." And he left to help the staff. But for a good minute or so the entire audience thought it was a bit and couldn't tell if this was part of the show or not! But after a few minutes we were like holy shit this is actually happening. It took maybe half an hour or so but we were back up and running and everyone was so hype cheering on the actors when they came back on stage.

Then, during the final song, on what sounded like the final NOTE, the lights went off again. You could hear a reaction from the actors-- I can't imagine how upset they must have been in that moment! But the entire audience erupted in cheers and instantly gave a standing ovation. After the crowd calmed down a bit Nick came back out and was like "Yeah...... That actually wasn't the ending. There are two minutes left." And we freaked out 😂 They had us wait for a few minutes, but then they decided to call it. In the words of Nick, "You're the lucky audience who gets to see this show with a happy ending!" 😳😳 So yeah - I still don't know the ending. I'm going to have to buy the digital ticket so I can see the ending and also get the full experience uninterrupted. I can't wait for the YouTube version!

SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT - Updated!

I think everyone's favorite part was the LORDS IN FREAKING BLACK!!! AHHHHH!!! JON AS HUMAN!WIGGLY was perfect! Also was he giving Onceler/TumblrSexyMan energy? 🤔 Can't wait to see how it looks on the YouTube version!

I loved Jon's anime nerd character. It was so damn good. The collective "Nooooooo" when the audience realized his death was imminent 😭😂

The parallels between Abstinace Camp and NPMD are very fun to me. "IT WAS GIRL JERI THAT DIRTY GIRL!"

DIRTY DIRTY GIRL WON'T YOU PRAY FOR MEEE?

Max's pronunciation of "skel-a-in" 😭 I need the story of how he decided on that or if it was written into the script?!

The Barbeque Monologues?! And that song? Jeff Blim pls. Lauren is a master through.

Someone pointed out that all the Hatchetfield shows have in-world productions: Working Boys, Santa Clause is Going to High School, and The Barbeque Monologues. Idk what this means, but it is a nice touch for worldbuilding.

The little musical reference to Nightmare time!!

I keep thinking about how Rob M fumbled the Starkid bag 😬 But Joey did such a great job as Pete! For some reason it feels like a full-circle moment between MAMD and "Joey Richter" with him playing the nerdy character 😊

Anglea was freaking fantastic as Grace. I just love her voice and how she makes it go so high it cracks! And Curt and Kim playing her parents was so good.

There's something so funny about Angela's characters being so different - Lex vs Grace - and the fact that they would hate each other 😂 Can Angela please play both of them interacting?!

Kim freaking Whalen!!!! I love her so much.

I LOVE seeing Corey and Mariah playing father and daughter again (but it's a very different dynamic than TGWDLM).

LOVE LOVE LOVE evil/slimly dirtbag Corey. HE'S SO FINE!!

I missed seeing Jeff and James on stage - I wonder if Jeff's chaotic energy would have been too much with the horny teenagers hahaha. But James would have fit right in! Oh well, we can't have them all in every show, unfortunately.

Gotta say I didn't expect them to say "Nerdy Prudes Must Die" so many times in the show 😂

The last song having pop-punk vibes?!

Anddd...... the last scene...... (yes I finally got to see it!) GRACE KEPT THE BOOK!!! Did she say "every perv must die"? Yeah, that's gonna be a lot of people on her list... Also very similar to the end of Abstinence Camp! This isn't going to go well.......

[blackstarmylove]

Threatened Reader 2 (HC)

Fandom: Blackstar Theater Starless

Pairing: Sotetsu, Qu, Akira, Heath, Menou with fem!Reader

Warning: Death, suicide, mental spiraling/depression, blood, self-harm.

Requested by: Potato

Prompt: I think I've finally recovered enough to ask for another Threatened Reader if you're up for it? Nothing huge cast member wise, maybe Sotetsu, Qu, Akira, Heath, Menou? - P  

Original prompt: A reader ignoring their lover because a random fangirl said so or They will Kill her? The leader gets sad and keep forcing them to talk to them but when she yelled at them for the reason she ignored them she gets a bullet shot on her head?….I just want to know how they would react to that can you do a headcannon?

A/N: I FINALLY finished it, and it only took me ages. 😭 Please take the warning seriously. There is some VERY heavy stuff under the cut. Kids, not meant for your eyes!

----------------------------

Prologue:

“Why are you ignoring me? Did I do something wrong?” The anxiety and desperation in his voice were evident.

“Just leave me alone!” It pained you to say those words, but you had no choice. You chose to keep your back to him, no wanting to see his distressed expressions.

You wish that you had never met the insane fangirl on that accursed day. Her words kept ringing in your ears over and over. Stay away from him, or else I will kill you.

You would’ve taken her threat with a grain of salt had it not been for the crazed look in her eyes. She meant every word.

While you were busy with your thoughts, you failed to notice your lover behind you. He quickly wrapped his arms tightly around you.

“Don’t do this to me.”

No matter how hard you struggled, you couldn’t get out of his iron grip.  As you continue your attempt to get out of his hold, your eyes rapidly scanned the area. You prayed that she was not around.

“Enough! At least tell me why you’re doing this!?”

The anger in his voice snapped something inside you. “Because I don’t want to die!”

“What?” His grasp around you loosened as he stared in shock.

“One of your fans threatened me! She said to stay away from you if I don’t want to die.” You sighed, “Please, j-just leave-”

Before you could finish your sentence, a loud bang rang through the empty street.

----

Your body slammed on the concrete, limp and lifeless. Sotetsu’s hand trembled uncontrollably as he wiped your blood from his face. The smell of iron had filled every inch of his nose. 

His hands grasped at the thin air as if searching for an anchor, as everything around him began to spin. His eyes blurred with tears as his laughter echoed through the area.

Sotetsu’s laugh was tinged with madness and despair - the laugh of a man who knew the universe was once again being sadistic and taking his happiness from him.

He searched high and low for the fangirl, determined to make her pay, slowly and painfully. He toyed with her, playing a deadly game of cat and mouse. A game that had her fearful to even step out of her house, so he forced her out of her home and continued the game until she could no longer take it and ended her life.

He pretended to be normal after that, but there was always a mad glint in his eyes. But everyone in Starless noticed and was worried about him, but Sotetsu refused to let any of them through.

The memories of the moment you died haunted him - always had him on edge, always watching, waiting for something to go wrong.

Akira's face turned pallid. He backed away, eyes wide with shock, until his back was pressed against a surface. The singer gasped for air, feeling like someone had a tight grip on his throat.

Though he managed to pry his eyes away from your body, the loud thud of your body colliding with the hard ground echoed repeatedly in his ears. Akira pressed his palms against his ears in an attempt to get the sound to stop, but it refused to go away.

Hours, days, and weeks passed, but he couldn't get that sound out of his head.

He started to flirt with every woman who crossed his path, but his heart remained empty. Every girl fell flat. They were just meaningless, nothing more than objects of momentary distraction.

Akira felt lost and empty. Nothing brought him satisfaction, not even singing.

His life turned into a blur of hedonistic pleasures. He slept with multiple women daily, sometimes several at once, at home, in Starless, in random places, at parties, everywhere.

Even then, he couldn't feel anything. Everyone in Starless was concerned, including Kokuyou. At times, Kokuyou slapped Akira to get him to snap out of it, but nothing worked.

It was like Akira was hoping to destroy himself physically and mentally. Then, maybe just then, he would be able to join you...wherever you were.

His heart froze in his chest. Qu's hand reached out to you, but it was too late. You were already on the ground. His hand remained in the air, trembling violently. Qu's mouth felt like a desert, and he could barely breathe. A crushing pressure pushed down on his chest, and Qu fainted.

He refused to leave his room and stayed curled in a corner. He remained there like a statue, crying nonstop. Neither Team C nor Maica were able to convince him to come out, eat, or care for himself.

His once beautiful, spotless skin was covered in breakouts, his well-groomed hair was growing out of control, and his physique had shivered to skin and bones.

Maica worked with Hari to find the fangirl who was responsible for your death. Maybe if they made her pay, Qu would slowly gather himself, but she was nowhere to be found.

He was a ghost among the living. No amount of doctors, medicines, or therapy helped. Even the medical professionals had given up on him.

It was his fault that you died, so Qu was repenting by tormenting himself in any way he could. His team members and friends watch helplessly as Qu's life painfully withered away.

As you lay motionless, your expression one of shock and horror, blood oozed through the hole in your skull. Menou stood in place, his eyes cold and devoid of empathy or remorse.

He walked away, going where his feet carried him. He thought about nothing, and his lifeless eyes stared straight ahead. Menou felt like a shell walking through the world without a purpose.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your terror-filled expression and could smell the coopery stench of your blood pouring out of the bullet hole. You were there, mocking him, making him remember over and over that he was responsible for your death.

Menou thought that if he found the woman responsible, you would finally leave him alone. So, he hunted her down. He covered her mouth and tore her to pieces, limb by limb, devoid of expression. But that was still not enough. You continued to mock him.

Team P tried to get him to sleep or visit a doctor and suggested anything and everything that could possibly help him, but Menou ignored them all.

Progressively, the image of your limp body was engraved in his vision. No matter where he looked, he saw you. Unable to take it, he dug his nails around his eyes and didn't stop until he clawed his eyes out. The entire time, he laughed, thinking he was mocking you now because he would no longer be able to see you.

His vision grew darker and darker. It eventually turned pitch black, and that was the last memory Menou's mind retrained before it, too, gave into the permanent darkness.

Heath dropped to his knees, with a look of horror and despair on his face, and cradled your head in his arms. He tried to wipe the blood away from the bullet wound. But why didn't the blood stop?

In a desperate attempt, he collected your blood in his palm and tried to pour it back into your wound. Why was your body getting cold?

"(Y/n), stop acting. It's not funny. Wake up. Wake...up. WAKE UP!"

Those were the last words Heath ever said as the trauma of losing you attacked his voice. He couldn't speak or rap. Even his uncontrollable sobs were muted.

His team members were breaking down with him. Mizuki would scream at him to snap out of it. Rico and Kongou couldn't bear to see Heath's state and developed trauma of their own. Hinata didn't show it but was severely disturbed by everything. Ran hunted down the fangirl and threw her lifeless body in front of Heath, hoping it would help the rapper recover, but the rapper stared at the body expressionless.

All he did was stare into space, not reacting to anything or anyone unless someone said your name.

One day, Heath saw you. His dull eyes sparkled, and his lips curled into a smile. He called out your name and followed you through the hallways, up the stairs, and to the rooftop.

The cast members heard screams outside the restaurant and ran out to see what was happening. And there was Heath in a pool of his own blood, his limbs sprawled in unnatural positions. But there was a smile on pale, cracked lips. He was finally with you.

----------------------------

➣ BlackStar Theater Starless Masterlists [1][2][3][4]

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[senlair]

Dead orchestra

All at once

Like an orchestra

In a single second

Our song is endless

And it has no beginning

Perhaps we were written for each other from the start

Our stage is life itself

This entire galaxy could be our stage With me as the only audience

I’m the only one standing at the end of the galaxy on a star, clapping and crying.

I wished I had a partner to listen with me and comment

Maybe if there were an audience, they would have pointed out the mistakes in the orchestra

A long song Its stage a galaxy, with no audience. A girl with disheveled hair told me yesterday, perhaps I bought the ticket at the wrong time.

I didn’t talk to her to know if the theater was ever full.

I didn’t talk to her to know if she ever listened to the song at all

If I had two lives, I would listen to the song in both

If I had two galaxies, I would rent them out as a stage for the song

If I were beautiful at all, I would invite the conductor to my home

It felt like loving a song that is a body rather than a melody in the air

Can you be angry at something you’re madly in love with?

Can you love something and be obsessed with it But every breath of it stirs feelings of irritation within you ?

Every breath of air has struck me while I was in your theater listening to your songs

It has tossed me to another star with its ebb and flow until I no longer know where I am

The stars I swing between are not adjacent They take me to colorful and white worlds.

They make me fly, then cradle me like a small child

They shake me strongly, then lull me to sleep. They make me wish for all the galaxies to play them. I feel a beautiful dizziness.

I feel a beautiful dizziness.

I really don’t live like other people

Nor do I see things the way they do

I see everything behind a distorted mirror with strange shapes

It magnifies and shrinks things according to its mood.

The breezes that hit my right cheek are like musk when the conductor raises his hand and then quickly lowers it

The stage stretches across a galaxy, but despite that, the echo of the air reaches me

I’m not beautiful enough to captivate the conductor.

I say it once and then repeat it, maybe because I had many similar thoughts while I was there.

I never get bored there.

The ticket has no time there.

Money is worth nothing there.

I live there, maybe I’m trapped.

Maybe I really love the song, maybe I just got used to being there.

Maybe two years have made me forget who I am outside the theater’s door.

Maybe I fell in love with the conductor.

Maybe I was just led by my desires and maybe... That musk has numbed me forever.

All at once.

How can we write each other's names randomly in one second

How can we search for each other randomly in one second

How can we be so connected, yet I’m not addicted to you?

How can I not sit here and listen to the song forever

If prison were this sweet, I’d be a criminal sentenced to death who was pardoned with life imprisonment

I don’t want to be expelled from the theater, but I will be expelled one day or tomorrow.

I don’t want to finish writing this text because I… don’t want any date written on this worn-out ticket in my hand.

The ticket for which I don’t know the price.

I don’t want the song to end, nor do I want to think about tomorrow.

I pray to God that it never ends… ‘All at once.’

[wolveria]

The Raven’s Hymn - Ch 30

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: “Do you sense any presence of SCP-035 within?”

AO3

“Approach the case.”

At least you knew where the Site Director had gone.

You did not comply, remaining still as if in hopes of not moving, you could prevent what was coming.

Maybe Leahy was feeling charitable today—he didn’t immediately threaten you with promises of torment or punishment. Instead, he waited from behind the thick one-way observation glass. He had all the time in the world. Where else could you go?

One foot in front of the other, you slowly made your way to the pedestal. Perhaps you would get lucky, and nothing would happen. You had survived worse SCPs.

That felt like a lie.

“Do you feel any influence, or otherwise unnatural sensations, on your mind or body?” Leahy asked once you came to a stop in front of the platform.

“No.” Not unless he counted bone-deep terror, or your unending hatred for him. What the hell was he thinking? And what was that shit Dr. Puli had peddled about no more cross-testing without higher approval? Surely no one signed off on this insanity.

“Put on the mask.”

Even though the command was inevitable, Leahy’s words set your heart thudding like a kicking rabbit.

“Since when did 035 have his host privileges returned?” It was a pathetic attempt to avoid your fate, a last-ditch effort to stall. Maybe there was even a small spark of hope that Leahy would see reason. Even he knew how dangerous this SCP was when given a living human host, hence why he was no longer given any. At all. Not even a mannequin.

“You will not be serving as a host. Do it.”

He was on edge. Good. He should be nervous.

You took a breath and observed the deceptively clean mask. There was no sign of the black goo, which according to 049, was pure Pestilence. The irony didn’t escape you that you were about to truly test if you immune to being reinfected, and that’s if 049’s assessment was accurate. You’d always thought 035’s goo was more of an acid—

“Stop stalling, Reid.”

Hissing out air through your teeth, you quickly picked up the ceramic mask as if ripping off a bandage. The mask continued to give you a comedic smile, but other than that, it remained as it was. It felt as ordinary as any other theater mask would.

Praying to whoever would listen, you pressed the inside of the mask against your face. Nothing happened. It wouldn’t even stick. You pressed it harder against your skin, wondering if the mask was nothing more than a piece of costume now. Insert and lifeless, the entity inside ceasing to exist.

And then the ceramic bolted to your skin like metal to a magnet. You balked, but the voice of panic ringing in your head wasn’t your own.

No, no, it’s all wrong! I can’t… can’t move. Can’t control—why can’t I, it’s all wrong, all wrong! Get out! GET OUT!

You hadn’t moved, your hands hovering near your head before finally dropping.

“SCP-035?”

You turned your head toward the mirror, your movements still freely under your control even as that foreign fear in your mind continued to rage. The image reflected back at you was startling, the mask on your face changed to that of a sorrowful frown.

“No, it’s still me,” you said, voice muffled by the barrier.

“Do you sense any presence of SCP-035 within?”

Going by the cacophony in your head like someone was literally bouncing off the inside of your skull, it was safe to assume there was a presence.

“Yes. He’s… agitated. He can’t control me.”

Leahy said nothing for a moment, no doubt consulting his notes in excitement like the bureaucratic little bully he was.

“I have a series of questions here that you will relay to SCP-035, and you will report its answers as exact as possible.”

The presence in your head reared itself like an enraged cobra, flaring before a strike.

Get fucked, you absolute cunt-rag!

You relayed 035’s response, and Leahy said nothing, bringing you a rare but immense feeling of satisfaction. And just like that, the other presence in your mind settled, the agitated cobra reclining into a languid coil. No longer poised to attack, but no less dangerous for it.

Not a fan of the Site Director either? No… no, you wouldn’t be. I know you. Of course, I do, of course. I simply didn’t recognize… I was distraught. Can’t blame me for that, no. Not used to being the one worn, instead of doing the wearing. You understand, don’t you? You do, you’re a very reasonable little thing, aren’t you, Reid? It’s been too long since our last interview. I’ve missed you. Did you miss me?

035’s return to a cool, calm control would have been unsettling if you hadn’t known this SCP so well. Or as well as anyone was able. His very nature made it difficult to get to know him, his ability to passively influence and infect with his personality one of the things that made him so dangerous.

You didn’t have a chance to respond; Leahy was already giving his next instructions.

“SCP-035, I want you to take control of her.”

A feeling rippled over your mind, your brain translating it into a sort of amused snort.

I see the Site Director hasn’t changed much. Stupid is as stupid does, my mother always said. If I had a mother. Ignore him, you and I have business to discuss. I know what they’ve been doing to you these past weeks. Oh, you know how it is. The fools who observe this cell, they talk and they think. They talk loud and think even louder. I hear things… interesting things. You would like to know, wouldn’t you? I bet you would.

He gave a laugh, or the mental equivalent of one, able to read your thoughts just as quickly as you could think them.

Yes, it does seem we’re able to hear each other without much in the way of hiding. No, I’m not happy about it either, but we’re going to have to suck it up like big boys and girls. Don’t mind your pretty head, I’m not going to do anything dastardly with what I glean from your traumatized mind. Your secrets are safe with me. After all, who would I share them with?

You thought he had a point, and 035 said, Of course I do. Whatever they say about me is a lie, darling. I’m a very reasonable man, doing his best to survive in a world where his jailers are mad. What do you say? You scratch my back, I scratch yours, so to speak. And we both screw the Foundation while we’re at it, hmm? It’s not like they’ve taken our best interests to heart. And neither of us are getting out of here.

A low, bassy tone vibrated in your mind, and goosebumps rippled across your flesh at the inhuman, incomprehensible malice glimpsed for just a moment. Whatever 035 truly was, or had been, he was a shadow of it now. Perhaps the only reason he could be contained at all.

“Did you hear me, SCP-6830?”

035 let out a silent flicker of amusement.

That’s the designation he gave you? What an idiot. Absolute IQ of a coral sponge with the charisma of a blowfly. Tell him I’m weak and barely able to produce thoughts, so he’ll have to be patient with how slow I am. He should be familiar with the concept.

A smile curled in the shadows of your mind.

Meanwhile, you and I can have a little… heart-to-heart.  

You relayed the message, wondering what 035 could possibly think you had to talk about.

Oh, so many things. Let’s start with you. Yes, you. We’ll get to me, don’t worry. So… what do you remember before joining this circus?

There was no point in avoiding his curiosity, though perhaps curiosity was too gentle a word. He wanted a piece of you in the form of deep, personal information. That was how all of his interviews went: 035 didn’t indulge in questions until he got to ask a few of his own. As one of the few people willing to take that risk, you had become one of his main interviewers, though you hadn’t given him much to work with. Not like this.

You cast your mind back, a mistake in hindsight. One you started, you couldn’t stop, the memories flowing easily as 035 flipped through them like pages in a book. He thumbed past most of your childhood, which was mostly normal and uneventful. What was he hoping to find?

Yada yada yada, bor-i-i-i-ng… Ah, here we go.

A memory unfolded against your will. You were at your old office job, the one you’d had before the Foundation and before you’d been exposed to the existence of SCPs. You’d worked there for two years until the event that knocked you off course, sending your life on an entirely different path.

Something was… wrong with your coworkers. No matter how early you came in or how late you left, they were always there. Within days, they began to look haggard, unraveled, and when you asked if they were feeling well, they would lash out until you left them alone.

You tried reporting this concerning behavior to HR, but it went nowhere. Your coworkers continued to deteriorate, their clothes unwashed, their faces taunt with lack of sleep and proper food. Not knowing what else to do, you contacted the local health authority, thinking there was radon gas or some kind of serious contagion.

Within the day, agents had showed up and cordoned off the building. You never saw your coworkers again.

You were interviewed by a man in a dark suit, and you never saw him again either, but he offered you a job. A mysterious one where you went to an unmarked building for an interview, was hired on the spot, and immediately taken to a site for the Foundation. You hadn’t even been allowed to go back home to get your things, and you’d remained ever since. You’d risen through the ranks, transferring from one site to the next, your handling of the SCPs expertly done despite having no background in behavioral or psychological sciences.

If there’s one thing the Foundation does well, and trust me, it’s one of the very few things, it’s that they have an eye for talent and anomalies. Their spies are everywhere. You don’t find the Foundation, the Foundation finds you. Funny that’s not how it worked for you. And isn’t it strange the anomaly affecting your coworkers didn’t affect you. Did the Foundation ever explore that? Perhaps that’s why you ended up in 049’s cell with no way out. You’ve been their unlucky test bunny since day one. How tragic.

At your denial, 035 made a tsk noise despite having no mouth.

You poor, poor thing. I pity you. At least we know we’ve been contained. You were given the illusion of freedom.

It wasn’t… it wasn’t true. It wasn’t! You would have sensed something, seen something. It wasn’t possible—

“SCP-6830, you will allow the subject to control your body.”

The masked SCP sighed with dramatic flair that was fit for an audience of hundreds rather than one.

Does that puffed-up spatchcock think I haven’t been trying? Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yes. So many interesting memories around anomalies. You don’t know what I mean? Well, that’s because they’re buried deep. Very deep… Oh, no, please. Allow me.

Like fingers ripping through a present, rough appendages ripped through your mind, bleeding them open without compassion. Images assailed you, memories long buried and forgotten.

You were on a camping trip with your family, your cousins leading you into the woods to play tricks on you with tales of urban legends. But you saw creatures in the woods that night, small and dark with gnashing teeth and devouring mouths where their eyes should have been. When you told your parents the creatures were real, they didn’t believe you.

A strange shadow followed your mother around throughout your early teens. You knew her cluster headaches were about to make an appearance, because the shadow would be persistent hours before. This continued until one day you yelled at the “monster” to go away, and it did. Your mother never had a cluster headache after that, though she believed her latest medication was finally working.

Your senior year in high school, you avoided English whenever you could, nearly failing the class and not being graduated. No one could understand your aversion, and you didn’t know how to explain that sometimes the ceiling of the classroom was… somewhere else. A glimpse into another place, one that didn’t always make spatial sense, gazing into its depths flipping your stomach as if you were about to fall upwards into it. You weren’t surprised to hear the classroom caught fire a year after you graduated. You were only surprised it had taken so long.

The cruel fingers released your mind, and you flinched out of their hold, gasping and shivering even as sweat clung to your hairline.

Oh my, do you want to lie down? Kick up your feet for a while and let me take over? 035 gasped with unnecessary zeal. That would be a fun experiment. Give me the reins, and I’ll put this body to good use—Fine, fine, no need to get hysterical, Jesus, I was just asking. Which is something I never do, by the way, so consider yourself bestowed with a great gift.

Another slow smile curdled in your mind like sour milk.

That’s an interesting word association. Gift. Makes you think of… him. Yes, let’s talk about the enigmatic 049. Come now, don’t be shy. It’ll be painless, I promise. Let’s see here… Stop resisting, damn it. Normally it’s fun when they resist, but by God, you’re giving me a headache. I’m trying to help you, woman. Do you want to fix your fuck-up or not?

The white walls of the cell had retreated to the point where you hardly saw them anymore. Instead, it was like you were having a conversation with someone you couldn’t quite see, in a place too dimly lit to make out properly, and his voice was in your ear so clearly it could have been your own. Except you’d never spoken with such malicious joy before.

That got your attention. Yes, to put it delicately, you hurt his feelings. My bestest friend in the whole world, and you broke his heart—What do you mean? Of course, we’re friends. Even if he said—Well, that’s his opinion, and it’s wrong. You took his shriveled heart and stomped it into a million pieces. Don’t believe me? I’ll show you.

As if your thoughts were recorded on a magnetic tape, 035 rewound them back to the precise moment he wanted, a memory you shied away from like a skittish horse from a rattler. The mask wouldn’t let you turn away. There was no sanctuary within your own mind, no corner you could hide or escape from his focus.

Standing within a familiar scene, you were the observer this time, a captive audience from your argument with 049 the previous night. It should have been impossible to view it from angles outside yourself, and yet a copy of yourself stood in profile, glaring up at the much taller SCP.

“It’s why your followers never stayed,” said the past version of yourself, an angry scowl curling her mouth. “They knew the path you walked wasn’t one of science. It was madness. Zealotry and fanaticism. Righteousness in the form of a crusade, and you slaughtered anyone who didn’t take up your banner.”

You couldn’t look away, couldn’t cover your ears, nothing to stop what was happening as each cruel word was delivered. Having said it once was enough, having to hear it again was agony.

“That’s why you couldn’t bring her back. You didn’t cure her, you murdered her in cold blood—”

035 froze the moment in time. There was something in 049’s eyes, a fragile nakedness, like a piece of armor being ripped away to expose the flesh underneath. It was a haunted look you had somehow missed.

Did you notice something interesting? The whole time you were reading him the riot act, calling him a murderer and a menace to society, what did he do? 035 asked, gleeful. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. He let you steamroll over him, and do you know why? Because you were right. This is what he deserves. He’s a peddler of death, a bringer of ill omens and black tides. Worse, he’s a charlatan. He rages about the Pestilence, and yet, his actions did naught but bring the carrion birds. Until… you.

You said nothing, unable to draw away from 049’s face, wishing more than anything you could take back those words.

He understands the hypocrisy of what he does better than you realize, 035 crooned in your ear, his words draped in insidious velvet. It’s why he harbors such hatred for me. I’m his twisted reflection. We are the same, only I don’t let shame stop me from taking what I want.

His influence surrounded you, closing in with suffocating darkness. You rebuked him, shaking him off like a biting flea on a dog’s back, and he simply laughed. The cell drew into sharp focus, your muffled breathing too loud in your ears. You didn’t know if Leahy had been speaking to you, but at least you were still in control of your own body.

But your attention was not something 035 was willing to let go of just yet.

Relax, I was only testing you. It would be an insult if I didn’t. Now, back to 049. He continued on, as if attempting to make you his thrall was simply good manners. Notice he only voiced his displeasure when you brought up Pernella. Sweet Pernella. I knew her, you know. She was just a babe when he found her. An innocent, forsaken chick taken under the raven’s wing. But alas… she met the same fate all his companions do. Keep that in mind, darling, lest you wind up as the next Pernella.

An impish giggle followed on the heels of the dire warning.

I’m kidding, you won’t end up like her. Why? Well, for one, he can’t kill you in his usual fashion. He’d have to get his hands dirty. A knife here, a strangling there. But he won’t. You’re far too precious. Can you imagine, being as old as he is and never able to touch another living being? It must drive him to madness. Perhaps that’s why he is the way he is. He simply needs a hug. His hand held. Maybe something a bit more salacious? I’m not one to judge, you do you, whatever creams your Twinkie. All I’m saying is, I think the doctor is full of pent-up frustration that could be solved with one of you on your back.

But enough about the doctor’s sexual yearnings, let’s talk about my second favorite subject. I—what? Don’t be such a prude, I’m right. 049 is so starved for affection that all you would need to do is pet his head and call him a good boy, and he’d ruin his trousers. Or… his equivalent for trousers.

Anyway, what’s my first favorite subject, you didn’t ask? Well—oh, you know already. Yes, it’s me. But for the second—Would you stop interrupting me! Oh, I never explained how to make amends with 049? Say you’re sorry. Apologize. Honestly, haven’t you done this before? Now, my second favorite subject: containment breaches.

Why are you yelling? This will benefit the both of us! Believe me, with some of the scuttlebutt I’ve heard, escape is your best option. Think I’m lying? Well, that’s your problem and you have trust issues. I don’t lie when the truth benefits me, and nothing would benefit me more than causing a little prison break.

“I want to leave,” you blurted. “Now.”

“We’ve only started,” Leahy said, his irritation leeching across the intercom. “You will stay in that cell until testing is complete.”

He’ll keep you in here as long as he can, just to see the black ooze eat away at you, 035 purred in your ear. It won’t, of course. I can’t produce it while you’re wearing me. You really dry up the tear ducts, you know? A cruel vixen. Tempting innocent SCPs with your wily ways and then dashing their hearts against the cold containment walls.

You mentally shoved against him, but 035 simply laughed. He wasn’t going anywhere, not with the mask still in place.

Don’t you even want to know how the breach will happen? Come on, take a guess. I’ll even give you a hint. It starts with 049… and ends with you.

“Let me out, Leahy!” you cried at the observation window, your raw desperation a jarring comparison to the mask grinning back at you.

“That’s Site Director Leahy, and no. You have yet to give me a more in-depth analysis of the effects of SCP-035. I know you’re communicating with it. Until you give me something of substance, you can rot in that cell—”

Rage boiled within your chest and your head snapped up, your words deep and reverberating with something below the surface. An unseen monster, circling the waters.

“You’ll be the one rotting if you don’t let me out!”

Leahy was quiet, and you could actually see through the one-way mirror to the other side. The Sire Director looked startled, as did the three other doctors and assistants with him.

“SCP-035, is that you?”

You tilted your head, the reflection mimicking the movement, but it didn’t feel like you. The dark eyeholes of the mask burned with an unnatural purple light, and the words that came from your throat were smooth and oily, slipping free without your permission.

“Why don’t you come in and find out, you pus-filled sack of meat? I’ll even let you wear the mask since you want answers so badly.”

You took a step closer, able to see the oddly smooth, sinuous way you moved in the reflection. It was still you, but it was also… not you.

“Do your own dirty work,” your voice said with a purr. “I know you’re capable of it. Or did you think what happened to 682 is a secret?”

The Site Director jerked forward over the mic.

“Reid, remove the mask, now!”

You ripped off the mask. The ceramic came free of your skin unwillingly, your face stinging at the effort. You took deep breaths of stale air that tasted like a mountain breeze in comparison to wearing the mask, and your mind whirled at the sudden absence of the mask’s owner. Shoving the SCP back in the case, you closed the lid, the ceramic smile grinning at you conspiratorially.

Before you’d removed the mask, 035 had given a parting whisper.

See you soon, sweetheart.

Next Chapter

[platadesangre]

we NEED to talk about jcs 1975 madrid cast!

i have come to make camilo sesto justice

(i finally finished this post yay!)

i may be a bit biased, since this was my first jcs.

short story on how i discovered it

my dad used to be an apostle for a bootleg staged playback jcs in peru during the 70s! they used this version.

he had the cd. he also had the mp3 files. i used his computer, so that was how 13 year old me found it.

those were tough times, bc later i started doing catechesis and i kind of got depressed and started questioning my faith lol. judas' character really resonated with me

since this is a recording, i didn't have any footage to reference, so i made up everything in my mind. (this is why it was a bit weird for me to see the english productions, bc they looked nothing like in my head lol)

now, a bit of historical context for spain in the 70's

camilo sesto was a popular spanish singer and actor who went to see the jcs 1971 broadway production in london. he loved it so much that he did everything he could do financially to bring the show to spain.

spain was in a fascist dictatorship at the time

they fought with censorship for years, that's why the lyrics are a bit different (i'll make a post about that too)

they had to remodel the alcalá-palace theater stage entirely

franco (our dictator) died two days after the premiere (about time lol)

the "ultras" (conservatists) didn't like the show so they did lots of crazy stuff (for example, praying for the cast outside the theater or sending BOMB THREATHS?)

anyways, this was the first official translation for jcs!

on the main cast we have

camilo sesto as jesus christ (he wanted the role from the beggining)

teddy bautista as judas iscariot

ángela carrasco as mary magdalene

here's an old pic of them (and some apostles)

(now that i look at it closely, it kind of looks like a bootleg jcs 1973 lol)

on the recording

it's a stereo recording, so use both headphones or you'll miss out on half of it

musically speaking, it's similar to the og concept album (songs ending on fade-outs and shorter trial before pilate) but it has some interesting choices (teddy, the producer and the voice of judas, took a lot of... artistic liberties)

some things this version has

it adds lots of synth. it's very psychodelic. i understand this can be a turn off for some people

they kinda change the key to many songs. maybe to fit vocal ranges idk

teddy just loves to make up new melodies (please give this man some water)

EPIC GUITAR SOLO in what's the buzz

what's the buzz and strange thing mystifying are separated tracks for some reason

camilo sings so good

cute synth in everything's alright ángela has such an angelic voice she makes such a good mary

the drums and guitars during this jesus must die are so danceable

the BEST simon zealotes i've heard. shit goes HARD. he goes CRAY

i really love this pilate, in my rating he would be the best one

camilo's "¡SALVAOS VOSOTROS!" during the temple is really pathetic lol

damned for all time interlude replaced by synths. the SAX SOLO is also replaced by synth (questionable choice)

cool thing happens during the end of this song that i'll talk about in another post

judas' occasional nervous laughter really adds to his character

also he cries a lot

"you sad pathetic man" part during last supper is... fairly different! (i'm looking at you teddy...)

camilo's gethsemane is epic. he's a baladist singer but MAN he can ROCK

cool harmonica during the arrest

i'll never shut up about our pilate (he nervous laughs too)

herod is so fruity

judas' death really hits different when you were depressed and questioning faith (this version is BRUTAL) also lyrics change (i'll talk about it i swear)

teddy's one of the few judas who sing the i don't know how to love him reprise in the higher scale!! it sounds so painful and anguished

the album continues acceptably

other cool things it has

jesus and judas have this interesting accent difference. since camilo is from valencia, he has this pristine and traditional spanish accent. and teddy is from canarias (also lived in the usa) so his accent is rougher and more, crusty? idk how to explain it but it's neat and stablishes their dynamic a bit. (ángela is from dominican republic! but her accent is barely noticeable)

on the footage aspect, we only have old vhs videos and live audios uploaded on youtube. also some old photos

there is a book about this version. it has some anecdotes (only available in spanish)

now we have a 4 episode mini-series about the odyssey that it was to produce this. it's called "camilo superstar" (i won't be watching it bc it's a bit fan-ficy from what i've seen)

the posts i'll make about this production will be tagged as #jcs 1975 madrid

you can listen to it on spotify!

or on youtube (playlist made by me)

[3mcwriting]

I'm Going To See Her Again

Trigger Warnings: reader death, implied su!cide, depression, and a really sad Bucky Barnes

If any of that triggers you, do not continue.

The mission was simple. Get in. Clear the dozen agents from the base. Get out.

Only, the intel was wrong.

There wasn't a dozen soldiers.

There were fifty.

"Bucky, duck!" you called out, panic lacing your voice.

Bucky did as he was told, allowing you to raise your gun and shoot the man. He stood up straight, throwing you a small smile to which you just grinned back. The smile didn't last long as he watched your lips twist into an "O", surprise blooming across your face. He watched as the blue of your uniform darkened, a blossoming cloud of blood seeping through the material.

It wasn't long before your eyes gave out, Bucky reacting just in time to catch you before your body hit the ground.

Your eyes started to flutter, getting harder and harder to keep open. 

"Hey, doll, keep your eyes open. You hear me?" Desperation clawed it's way through Bucky and all he could think was how much he wanted for it to be another prank you pulled on him. For your eyes to pop open, full of mischief and good humor as you laughed at how he feel for another one of your jokes. But it was plain to him that you would never pull such a cruel prank. "Keep your eyes open."

Instead, your eyes barely managed to stay open as you rasped out, "Well, damn, Barnes. You really know how to get a girl to fall for you." Shooting him a good humored grin that was quickly gone as you winced.

"Hey, there's help coming." He pressed the emergency button on his belt again, praying that anybody would arrive. "Keep those gorgeous eyes open."

"Bucky," your soft voice caught his attention, it was far too content for the situation. "I just want you to know that you have been the kindest, most amazing friend anyone could ever have. I've been so, so, lucky to have you in my life."

Tears began to fall from his eyes, knowing exactly why you were telling him those things.

Please don't go.

You continued, managing to squeeze his hand weakly as your voice steadily got quieter. "I want you to always remember that no matter what happens, I will always love you. You always have been, and always will be, the most wonderful person in this world."

"Oh, doll, I love you too," he choked out, not ready for you to leave. "But I'm the one who's lucky to have you in my life. Please don't leave? Please?"

His begging fell on deaf ears, your final breath leaving your body.

Bucky sobbed, voice strangled as he cried to the universe. "I have no one but you."

And now you're gone.

~~

Those beautiful eyes that haunted every dream and every waking moment of his miserable life. The mischievous grin you always had after tying his hair in those little rubber bands, or sticking magnets to his arm with little notes full of compliments.

He didn't understand how you could be gone. Had he not lost enough already? Now he had to lose the one person who had always chosen to stick with him.

The person who convinced him to dress up as Batman when she dressed up as Wonder Woman and the one who would shove candy bags in his hoodies when she introduced him to modern movie theaters because she always wanted her favorite candies.

The person with the biggest heart in the world.

Only that heart stopped beating.

Why?

Why was it happening?

He would never again be able to sit with you, your head resting on his chest as you showed him all your favorite movies.

No matter what, you had always been there for him.

At Steve's funeral when you held his hand as the casket get lowered into the ground. After, when you held him all night long, your nimble fingers dancing though his hair as he sobbed over losing yet another person he loved.

Before that, when you had gone to a coffee shop and a man was calling him a murderer and a disgrace to America.

You had marched right up to him, entirely fearless. "He's done more for this country and it's people than you ever will. He's suffered through more shit then anyone. And he still has the courage and the kindness to go back on missions and make this world a better place. So what the fuck have you been doing? Sitting on your ass and insulting a war hero? Get off your lazy bum and go do something useful for a change!"

The man had scurried away from you and your deathly glare.

When he'd thanked you and told you that you didn't have to do that because what he had said was true, you fixed him with a serious look.

"What he said is not true, I will continue defending you because you deserve it. And you better not ever tell me you're a bad person because you are the kind of person I aspire to be."

Those words giving him a small sense of pride because you, this wonderful person, looked up to him. Him- James Buchanan Barnes, the "Winter Soldier"

All the uncountable times you were there for him, never asking anything of him except friendship.

Bucky looked at the blank paper on his desk, mind made up as he grabbed a pen and began writing.

~~

2 hours later in the kitchen of the Avengers compound

"Oh, Buck, what did you do?" Sam asked as he read the note.

"Hey guys, I know this will be hard on some of you and I'm sorry for that.

You may not understand why I did what I did, but just know I'm at peace.

I'm going to see her again."

[qqquib]

All Time Fav Fics

multi-fandom + continual updates :3

DSMP + SBI

—

Tommyinnit: The three endings and two beginnings

- 142,401 words, abandoned

- also taken off ao3

- TW: torture, suicidal ideation, suicide, self harm, manipulation, death, child abuse, neglect, war

- Rating: 9/10

- all DSMP characters are thrown into a room to relive tommy’s life

Nights Like These by ChelseaFrown

- 107,946 words

- TW: child abuse, self harm, suicidal ideation, fire

- Rating: 8/10

- Foster Care tommyinnit AU

Godling by dancewiththewaves

- 66,761 words

- TW: kidnapping, violence

- Rating: 8/10

- tommyinnit and tubbo are godlings, however tommy is missing and tubbo needs him to get his powers. they are calm and chaos

Ours Poetica by zeeskit

- 77,502 words, abandoned

- TW: neglect, self harm, suicidal ideation + actions, child abuse

- Rating: 10/10

- tommyinnit is suicidal and abandoned by his family. he turns to poetry to cope

Cigarette Paper by anonymous

- 149,118 words

- there is a sequel <3

- TW: drugs, self harm, overdose, suicidal ideation, child abuse, religious trauma, rehab, neglect

- Rating: 9/10

- wilbur is deeply traumatized and addicted to drugs, tommy just wants to help

Home is Where The Heart Isn't by ThisB_tchEmpty

- 25,211 words, abandoned

- series!

- TW: neglect, suicidal ideation, character death, grief, child abuse

- rating 10/10

- Tommy was never loved by his family, he turns 18 today

The Children's Rebellion by Aria_Cinabun

- 257,877 words

- sequel out!

- TW: child abuse, graphic violence, suicide attempt, main character death, genocide, prison, disordered eating, bullying, starvation, manipulation, bullying

- rating 9/10

- Tommy Innes was born to touch the stars, but instead is the former leader of the children's rebellion

Mon Dieu by s_mol

- 114,945 words

- TW: torture, character death, Stockholm Syndrome, graphic violence, starvation, paralyzation, suicide attempt, self harm, religious trauma, gaslighting + manipulation, cults

- rating 9/10

- exile Tommy gets revived and is now dream's "angel."

Hand in Unlovable Hand by whoknowsidont

- 20,956 words

- everyday I pray for a pt 2

- TW: foster care, graphic violence, prison, character death, manipulation, mentioned suicide, police

- rating 10/10

- Tommy gets removed from his placement, and lives with a murderer

the funeral was a bleak affair by @jazzintown

- 71,306 words

TW: major character death, self harm, suicidal ideation, suicide, grief, alcohol abuse, neglect

- rating 10/10

- Tommy was born into a broken family

Theater Major by Annex

- 85,169 words

- TW: parental issues, bad family life, suicidal ideation, bad portrayal of foster homes, self-harm, death in general

- rating: 10/10

- Tommy has to make it through his last semester of high school, last show with the school that has done so much for him and now his entire schedule and life has been thrown to the wind by his family. And why are they acting like nothings wrong?

would you miss me in the end, if i run out of oxygen? by roboot

- 9,381 words

- TW: suicidal ideation, self harm, heavy depression, loneliness, coming to terms with how bad you've gotten

- rating: 10/10 accurate description of mental health issues

- I’m going to kill myself. His mind decides, and his stomach lurches. His breath trembles on the next intake, “how’s Ranboo doing?”, “Hm?” Tubbo says, pitching his voice curiously as his mind catches up to the question, “oh! They’re really good! Our projects are actually kind of joint- he’s doing death, which I thought was kind of morbid but Smith really liked it, so.”, “Why couldn’t they have helped you then?”, Tubbo scoffs, “you really think the guy capturing death would have an eye for life? If I let him touch my project he’d corrupt it or something.” He kicks his head back to meet Tommy’s gaze, setting his camera into the grass, “besides, we haven’t had a chance to really hang out lately.”, “You mean you haven’t had a chance to use me as free labour.”, “Technicalities! Hey, we should get moving again, I want to stop by the fountains.”

there’s stardust running through your veins by always_an_anxious_mess

- 125,040 words

- TW: abuse, torture, child abuse, foster homes, loneliness, graphic descriptions of violence, suicidal ideation, imprisonment, human experimentation, disassociation, character death

- rating: 10/10 love humans are space orcs

- When he was little, he’d dreamed of being an astronaut, of going to space, like every kid did. Space was fun, exploratory. Or it was supposed to be.

—

UNDERTALE + AUs

—

Winter in Your Bones by cryptic_jack

-67,506 words

- TW: violence, technical breaking and entering

- rating 9.5/10

- super fluffy alaskan reader x sans trope

Masquerade by TeaLeafe

- 160,404 words, unfinished (abandoned?)

- TW: major character death, self harm, rebounding, references to game canon events, violence, asshole behavior

- rating 7/10

- Underfell and Undertale universes collide into one, reader "loses" sans to fell!sans' girl.

Bullies by CurlySugarSkull

- 168,408 words, unfinished (abandoned?)

- TW: bullying, gangs, violence, rape/non-con, child abandonment, referenced suicide, drug use, referenced self harm, anxiety, underage drinking/smoking

rating: 8.5/10

- Jamie Hopkins gets put into Bullsworth Academy for troubled kids... into the boys dormitory.

You Matter To Me by @myownpersonaldemons

- 139,370 words

- TW: unhealthy relationships, accidental pregnancy, parental issues, smoking, legal battles, cheating

- rating 9.5/10

- reader moves in with the skelebros + co. after finding her boyfriend fucking her sister...

The Burning Mountain by Kassykins

- 110,941 words

- TW: emotional + psychological abuse, graphic violence, mentions of child abuse, alcohol abuse/alcoholism, rapid reality switching

- rating 8/10

- reader is a mage living in hiding. suddenly, the world as she knew it is changed indefinitely and only few can remember.

Tilikum by @llamagoddessofficial

- 54,456 words, unfinished

- TW: graphic descriptions of violence, abuse, murder, obsessive love lol

- rating 9.9/10

- llama goddess always hits.

- the Trio(tm) are all sirens living in an aquarium, Y/N is assigned as their caretaker even though they have no prior experience. Good luck!

Aggre(g/v)ation by @llamagoddessofficial

- 180,230 words

- TW: graphic violence, non-con, referenced cannibalism, referenced murder, referenced starvation, referenced child abuse, kidnapping

- rating 9.6/10

- reader lives in an apartment with sans, who kinda hates her... sorta? and then his "cousin" shows up, and then another...?

These Are Our Days by @Rehlia

- 642,238 words (WOW)

- TW: graphic violence, PTSD, body horror, terrorism, politics, human/monster war, disassociation, memory loss

- rating 9/10

- reader gets a job working as a social media manager for the monsters, after applying while shitfaced, and gets swept into something much bigger than anticipated.

Chill or Be Chilled by @tricktster

- 484,012 words, abandoned

- TW: graphic violence, body horror, weird science

- rating 8/10

- reader and sans meet, a classic slowburn (that's not very slow), and then shit hits the fan.

—

SOUTH PARK

—

Oh My God, They Were Cellmates by Absolute_Trash_Fire

- 149,689 words

- TW: rape/non-con, drug addiction, murder, graphic descriptions of violence, sexual assault + harassment, jail, gang activity, suicidal thoughts, bad parents

- rating: 10/10 one of my fav South Park fics

- Tweek Tweak is a mild-mannered young man. He practices sex in carefully considered moderation. He holds no ill will toward his fellow man. This is his gospel...But it's all thrown out the window when he is arrested. Arrested for his ongoing meth abuse. Specifically, arrested for murdering his own dealer.As his false identity is peeled away, he must find himself while under the anxiety-inducing protection of his rage-prone cellmate, Craig Tucker.

Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space by gremlinteeth

- 136,649 words

- TW: bullying, homophobia, child abuse, drug abuse, bad parents, fighting, kinda graphic violence

- rating: 10/10 high school but its actually accurate

- The epitome of apathy, Craig Tucker has never been anything but nonchalant when it comes to his life and other related catastrophes. As long as he's not missing his favourite tv show or being hassled into another one of his classmates' ill-advised schemes, the boy truly doesn't care. Why should he? He's almost halfway through his Junior year at South Park High, which he's already figured out means he's only trapped there for another year and a half. Yet, there's only so far flying under the radar can get you, and unless he can get his grades up before the end of the school year, he won't be graduating with the rest of his class. Luckily, there's a blonde-haired recluse who might be able to help him - in more ways than he'd hoped.

—

STRANGER THINGS + STEDDIE

—

stereoscope by seraphy

- 60,836 words

- TW: child abuse, graphic violence, canon typical violence, PTSD and its effects, alcoholism, kidnapping, bullying

- rating: 9/10

- Here's Steve Harrington's biggest secret, though: It's not the alternate dimension brimming with monsters or the impossible girl with powers. It's the fact that he and Eddie Munson have been friends all along. In an on-and-off, tangential, fucked up kind of way. Never on his own terms. But still friends.

the game (SERIES) by schlatt (@669b)

- 78,658 words

- TW: self harm, drug use, death, canon typical violence, PTSD, gore, slightly graphic violence

- rating: 9/10

- 5 years after vecna died... but he's back??? make it gay and full of healing and relapses and trauma.

—

HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON

—

Phantom of the Arena by @aleteia-ff

- 277,913 words

- TW: animal cruelty, talk of rape/non-con, talk of sacrifices, graphic violence, bad parents, slight suicide ideation at some points, pregnancy, general vikingness

- rating: 9/10

- Dragons and Berk have been at war for generations; one year ago however, strange things started to happen during raids, which cannot possibly be the work of a dragon. Refusing to let her village be haunted by what they call the Phantom of the Arena, Astrid sets out to find the culprit. 

Persephone by sunflowerb

- 222,161 words

- TW: bridal kidnapping/sacrifice, graphic violence, pregnancy (I think), bad parental relationship, general vikingness, animal cruelty

- rating: 8.5/10

She was meant to be the price for peace; her life in exchange for the mysterious Dragon Master's mercy.Her captor wasn't supposed to be a ghost from her past, and she wasn't supposed to become his ally...or his lover. And when news spreads of a blonde-haired girl at the Dragon Master's side, there will be repercussions for dragons and Vikings alike.

—

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

—

The Lost and Forgotten by Litcraz

- 272,143 words

- TW: homelessness, suicidal thoughts, cannon typical violence, graphic violence, depression, loneliness, rage, self-worth issues, death, threats

- rating: 9/10

- In order to save everyone's lives, Peter is forced to give up memories - their memories of him. As a result, he is left entirely alone in a world where no one knows he exists. After finally moving on with his life, a new threat arises, bringing Peter back directly into the Avengers' path.

A Peter Parker Problem by spagbol99

- 176,955 words

- TW: child abuse, graphic violence, child neglect accidentally, canon typical violence, self-worth issues, bullying, lots of lying, guilt to the max

- rating 9/10

- Peter Parker was back from the dead. At least that is what everybody told him. He comes back to find May has a husband and a kid. A new family he has to fit into. The only thing that feels solid is Tony: the Blip and fatherhood have mellowed him and Peter loves the bond they have now, but Tony needs to focus on his own recovery - not small time Peter Parker problems. When things at home take a turn for the worse, Peter decides that he'll handle it himself. After all, if May is happy, he is happy, right? Right?

The Third Option by Uncertainty_Principle

- 222,949 words

- TW: child abuse, sexual abuse, rape/non-con, death, graphic violence, canon typical violence, homelessness, loneliness, guilt-complex, cancer, trust issues

- rating: 10/10

- Peter goes into foster care. It takes just a tiny taste of superpowers for Peter to decide he doesn’t want to put up with his horrible foster father anymore—the streets are infinitely more appealing. All he wants is to be Spider-Man anyway. So he leaves. Simple. Simple, that is, until Iron Man needs Spider-Man’s help. Peter will help Tony. In return, the mask stays on. And that’s when things get complicated.

Peter and the Jailbirds by beautifullights

- 86,427 words

- TW: human experimentation, child abuse, canon typical violence, the Raft from MCU, forced isolation w/ sensory deprivation, torture, gunshot wounds, graphic violence, self-worth issues

rating: 10/10

Peter gets tossed onto the raft after being caught as Spiderman, it does not go well for him at all

Constant Internal [Spider] Screaming: Semi-Connected Scenes from a Graduating Senior’s Life by @isadancurtisproduction

- 141,489 words

- TW: stress, canon typical violence, bullying, fear of moving on, PTSD issues

- rating: 9.5/10

- When Peter's Teacher announces that his Graduating Class's Senior Trip is going to be to Stark Industries, he is... less than enthused. No one believes his Internship is real and frankly, he just doesn't want to deal with it, but between May and Mr. Stark, he doesn't really think he's going to get much of a choice. He has a month till the actual day, maybe he'll fall into a pit or get carried away by a stork-themed villain or fall into a Coma or something before the dreaded Field Trip

Fill My Veins With Terror by ManyGayUmbrellas (SERIES)

- unfinished (currently ~90k words)

- TW: graphic torture, child abuse, graphic violence, emetophobia warning, self-hatred, self harm, eating disorder, character death, murder, rape/non-con, suicide,

- rating 10/10!

one shot series following whumptober 2023 prompts, will rip your heart out

Spaghetti and Red Wine by atrhopodwithapen

224,770 words

TW: character death, graphic violence, rape/non-con, child abuse, canon typical violence, food issues, bad portrayals of the foster care system, torture, suicide attempt,

rating 9/10!

May dies on her way to get food for dinner, Peter gets placed in foster care, it doesn’t go well. 

literally anything under the "Peter Parker's Field Trip to Stark Industries" tag

—

SIDEMEN

—

Catharsis by dontlookup

- 20,234 words

- TW: sex as self harm, consensual but not safe or healthy, sub-drop, unrequited love, incorrect portrayals of content creators!!!!

- rating 10/10 its like. a perf vent fic

Vik shrugged. "Cathartic," he mumbled. "I felt bad. It felt good." In which Vik doesn't know how to process his feelings for Tobi and JJ helps by beating them out of him.

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

Pray To Me A Little Longer (pt 2.1/3)

yeah, I'm splitting chapter 2 into two parts, the whole point of posting on tumblr (for me) is to be able to post things before they're ready for AO3, besides, it makes perfect sense as its own chapter

Part 1 • Part 2.2 Part 3 Devotion

Word count: 1788

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Moceit, future qpr Intrulogince (Remus/Logan, Logan/Roman)

Warnings: murder (comical), mythology-esc hijinks, animal death (by other animals, sentient animals? sentient animals killing non-sentient animals for food)

~~~START~~~

Long ago, near the dawn of humanity, Thomas, King of all Gods, had a Son: Patton, Prince of Gods, Flame of the Earth. He grew tall and fair, and when He had grown old enough to come into His own, Thomas had a second Son. 

Romulus was a rascal of a God, full of wild energy and teasing jests. Many a God privately expressed Their regret that Thomas had had a second Son, though never would They say a word against Him in the presence of His Father. Still though, Thomas knew His second Son was a handful, and when He had a third, He sent Him to be raised in Logos, where His most trusted priestesses and nymphs would keep Him out of trouble. 

One day, Patton came to His Father with a snake draped around His neck. The serpent spoke mostly riddles and lies, but still, the God of Truth professed His love for the creature and begged His Father to grant him the divinity His own Children had been blessed with. Thomas agreed, saying that if the snake would stay with Patton until the solstice in one month’s time, then the two should be wed, and the snake would be blessed to remain at Patton’s side forever more. The serpent happily acquiesced. 

The serpent’s loyalty in that month was surely tested as Romulus teased the poor creature cruelly, calling him ugly and attempting to pry scales from his tail. Patton had always tried to show His Brother patience and kindness, but this disrespect of His lover was something He could not stand for. He cursed at His Brother, and bid Him not come to the wedding at all unless it was to beg on His knees for the serpent’s forgiveness. Romulus was not cowed and declared that the snake would just as likely leave His Brother after receiving divinity as not before storming off in a huff. 

Thomas made His second Son apologize at the wedding, but nothing could stop the God of Ego from laughing when it was revealed that His Brother’s Husband’s name was Janus. 

Janus continued to accept every jab, every aggression, every abuse from Romulus with a sly smile on His face. At every turn He held His Husband back from losing His temper at His Brother. Then, during the Festival of the Eclipse, as the moon passed in front of the sun, plunging the world into darkness, the God of Secrets pulled out an axe and cleaved His Brother-in-law in twain. 

From the right half of Romulus’s body grew Roman, God of Romance, Music, Theater, and Literature, and from the left half grew Remus, God of Sex, Sculpture, Painting, and Weaving. The sun and the moon, separated once more. 

The other Gods, while now more mistrustful of Janus — though none would say so, lest they face the unrestrained wrath of either Janus or His Husband — were pleased with this change. 

After that, almost all of Romulus’s temples were added on to so that Roman and Remus each had their own shrine and new temples were built, leaving out Romulus’s shrine altogether, though they did still have a common shrine where priestesses and disciples alike could pray to both Gods at once. 

Despite the fact that it had stood abandoned for years, the Lykos temple — which lay in the middle of the woods of the same name — was Roman’s favorite temple. It had been the spiritual center of Romulus’s cult during His time, and even now, it was still the home of Romulus’s sacred wolf pack. 

Running with the wolf pack was one of Roman’s favorite things to do. He loved the dirt beneath His paws, the wind running through His white fur, and the feeling of taking down prey with His sharp teeth. 

But most of all, He loved getting to take a break from being a God; wolves didn’t care about Gods, wolves cared about their pack, and their hunt. And of course, when Roman decided to take time to run with the pack, for a night at least, Remus came too — it was just as much His pack as it was Roman’s. 

So Roman and Remus ran with the wolf pack through Lykos. 

Roman prowled forward slowly, carefully, the deer He was stalking had no idea of its danger. It was a large stag, with mighty antlers and its fair share of battle scars; a kill like that would feed the pack well — Roman and Remus did not need to eat such mortal fodder, but there was something incredibly satisfying about it. 

Roman was almost close enough to pounce when Remus came thundering up behind Him. The stag, having obviously heard the ruckus, took off running. 

“REMUS!” Roman barked unhappily, but Remus just laughed as he continued after the stag. 

Roman shook His head. Wolves were not pursuit predators, but of course, Remus could hunt however He liked. 

A howl went up in the opposite direction than Remus had gone, signifying that another member of the pack had made a kill and was inviting the rest of the pack to indulge with them. Roman continued the howl, but did not move to join them — he preferred meat slayed by his own teeth and claws. 

A few minutes later, He heard Remus howl His victory over the stag. He heard a few other wolves moving in Remus’s direction to share His kill with Him, but still, Roman continued to search for His own prey. Preferably, He’d find something before Remus decided to ‘help’ Him again. 

A rabbit ran across His path, but it was small, and Roman was not interested in so weak a challenge. He crept on until he found a doe drinking from a stream. She was not as big as the stag, but she would do. 

Roman stalked closer, keeping a careful ear out for signs of Remus’s less-than-graceful approach. Just as Roman was about to pounce, the doe seemed to catch wind of Him, she tried to take off running just as the stag had, but it was too late, and Roman quickly took her down. She struggled a little, but as Roman tore at her throat, her struggles lessened until finally, she was still. 

Roman howled out His own kill, and relished the answering howls that came back. A mother wolf appeared then with her two cubs, and Roman graciously allowed them first pick. 

As the mother and cubs ate, Roman noticed for the first time that there seemed to be quite a few birds in the trees. Birds were normal, as far as Roman could tell, there were birds everywhere, but He had never noticed so many diurnal birds out at night before. 

Scavengers, perhaps, except that even when the mother and cubs moved away from the felled doe to allow Roman His fill, the birds made no move to approach the carcass. 

Roman tore chunks of savory meat from the doe, and as no other wolves had appeared to share in His kill, He ate until a sharp feeling, almost like that of an axe, struck Him — it was not a physical blow, but it still managed to knock some of the wind out of him. 

The birds seemed to sense the change too, as they suddenly all at once took to the skies, cawing and clamoring as they went. Roman was too stunned to pay them much mind — someone had entered His temple. 

Another God had the audacity to enter one of Roman and Remus’s temples uninvited. 

“The nerve of some people,” Remus sniffed, jogging through the woods until He was at Roman’s side. “Don’t Gods have any manners?”

Roman rolled his eyes at the question. Remus had a habit of entering other Gods’ temples to annoy Them — He was lucky that Janus seemed to like Him, otherwise Patton might have smote Him long ago. His favorite target was the God of Wisdom, but so far, said God had yet to rise to the challenge, though if He thought ignoring Remus would work, perhaps He was not as wise as He ought to be. 

It was hard to pinpoint which temple the intruder was in since, as far as Roman knew, They were in Romulus’s shrine. If this God had gone into one of Roman’s shrines, or one of Their common shrines, then He would be able to find Them, but as it stood, all He knew was that there was a God in one of Their temples somewhere. Not the most helpful lead. 

“Well?” Remus asked, having had waited for Roman to collect His thoughts while He scratched His own mangy fur against a tree. He did not care as much about intruders. 

“They’re somewhere,” Roman concluded, unhelpfully. 

“Great! Well I vote that we don’t worry about it. Maybe it’s Janny, vandalizing one of Romulus’s statues for fun!” Remus shrugged His shoulders as well as a wolf could do. 

“Maybe,” Roman agreed tentatively. Janus’s feud with Romulus seemed to have ended with His forced mitosis, but perhaps the God of Lies had felt the need to blow off some steam. 

Roman tried to shake off the odd feeling of having a God in Their temple and continue the hunt with the rest of the pack, but that feeling was always there, in the back of his mind. When at last the pack had eaten their share and stretched their legs, the two Gods accompanied them back to the temple where they denned. 

They had been intending to leave after that, but intriguingly, They found a God, asleep, beneath Romulus’s citrus tree. 

Roman had never seen this God before, and he knew most of the rest of His fellow Gods very well. That wasn’t to say that there weren’t Gods that Roman didn’t know, just that it was uncommon. 

Remus sniffed the other God curiously. “Why’s he dressed like a human?” He asked, wrinkling His nose, which came across as more of a snarl on His wolf muzzle. 

“That’s what you’re focused on?” Roman yipped. “Why is He in Our temple? And why is He sleeping here?”

“Probably explains the birds at least,” Remus shrugged once more, before seemingly making up His mind and curling up on the intruding God’s left. 

Birds? Roman wondered before suddenly remembering the crows. The birds had come with the God, though why, Roman didn’t know — it wasn’t like peacocks followed Him around. 

“Why are you sleeping with Him anyway?” Roman demanded. 

“Warm.” Was Remus’s only answer. 

Roman sniffed suspiciously at the other God for another moment before He was forced to admit, Remus looked comfortable and He was jealous. He curled up on the God’s other side, and He had to admit, it was comfortable. 

~~~END~~~

I’m sick and I would like some serotonin pls 🥺

Docs did not like how I was spelling “axe” to the point where I needed to google axe to make sure I was right. I don’t know what it wanted from me smh

General taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @arsonic-knight @misunderstood-shadowling

[rowanaelinn]

Illicit Affairs - Helia’s Secret

Masterlist

Written for When Aelin Is Away prompt @rowaelinscourt

Warnings: mentions of death | Word Count: 2,200

On a bright and cold day of December, Rowan was interrupted by his daughter in his study. With her irresistible smile, she asked him if he’d like to go out to eat something. The request alone told him this outing was more important than just some father/daughter moment. Contrary to Helia’s mother, Aelin who was away on a work trip, Rowan hated eating out or ordering food in. Aelin always referred to him as a health junky, and he supposed she was right. His daughter knew that, as well.

No questions asked, Rowan had stopped in his work and told his daughter to get into his car. “Can I drive?” She asked sweetly.

She didn’t have her license yet, and he was in the process of teaching her. He glared at her, his only answer. He loved his daughter, the Gods knew he did, but she was awful at driving. Again, he didn’t know how but it was something she picked from Aelin. Whenever he was driven by any of his girls, he feared for his life. He’d never say it out loud, though, or he’d actually die.

“Boring old man,” she rolled her eyes and climbed on the passenger side of the car.

He snorted, unaffected by the insult. Not a day went by in the Whitethorn house without a remark being made about his age.

“Where are we going?” He asked her. She knew restaurants more than he did. She was his little savior, always recommending him the best restaurants to take Aelin to on their date nights.

“Can we go to that place I like? With their pastas?”

“Sure,” he nodded, and shifted to first gear.

While he’d been more than good at STEM subjects, Helia was the definition of the perfect humanity student. Even at only fifteen, she knew three languages, well on her way to learn a fourth. She loved eating at Emrys because the old man there spoke the old language, and she’d been learning that language for years now.

Once they arrived at the place and a waiter took in their order, Rowan waited. Nothing good would come from pushing her if she had something to tell him. He tried to keep his face neutral, but inside he prayed that whatever it was it wasn’t too serious. He seriously prayed she wasn’t pregnant. He couldn’t be a grandfather now—and Aelin would joke endlessly about it—and Helia was still… a baby.

His baby. Even if he knew she would deny it. She was growing, he was aware of it. He also knew that his days were counted until she moved away from him for college, and sometimes he wished he could always keep her under his roof. “How’s school?” He started, not truly knowing on which feet to dance. Maybe if he initiated the conversation, it was better for her.

“Oh, everything’s fine,” she shrugged. “I’ve signed in for the theater club, like I said I would.”

“That’s good,” He nodded. “Are you happy about that?”

“Yeah, sure. Plus, Talia has signed up for it as well, so it’s good.”

Talia was Helia’s best friend, or girl best friend to not forget about Loren. They’d met when they were six and hadn’t left each other side since. Hellas, sometimes Rowan felt as if Talia was his daughter as well because of all the time she spent at their house.

Their pasta arrived right after, and she started clapping in her hands with excitement. “Thank you, dad.”

He frowned, “You don’t have to thank me for keeping you fed.”

She shrugged, “You could have said no to going out.”

Right, that was an opportunity he would take. “I felt like you had something to tell me.”

She looked away, fixating her green eyes on the man behind him as her mouth moved to the side. He didn’t enjoy seeing her this way, and she looked down at her lap. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything.

“I-I do.”

“I’m all ears, baby,” he smiled at her, trying to encourage her even if he was dying inside.

She took a deep breath and finally looked at him. She wasn’t usually one to be shy, she had never grown out of that outspoken and extrovert phase she’d had as a child, and it was that that troubled him the most. She swallowed with difficultly before she said, “I don’t really know how to say it, so I guess I’m just gonna go straight to the point. You like straight to the point anyway, you’re like… the most direct person ever. Always going straight to the point—”

“Which you’re not doing right now,” he noted with a touch of humor.

She glared at him, and he was happy to find some of her fire back. She took a deep breath and said quickly, “I like girls, dad. Like, I’m a… I’m a lesbian.”

“Okay…?” Well, he’d expected another kind of news. “Congrats?”

She frowned, and asked with heat, “What do you mean okay, congrats?”

He looked around the restaurant before replying, “I just wasn’t aware that I wasn’t supposed to know.”

Her face paled, “You knew? All this time, I’ve been worried sick about telling you, but you knew?”

“Helia, why have you worried in the first place? I love you, I don’t give a shit about who you love, as long as they are treating you right. And yes, I did have strong suspicions of it, but I never expected you to come out to me. I thought you’d just bring someone home and that’s it.”

“So… You’re not upset?” She asked, her voice quiet. Worried.

His heart squeezed in his chest, and he debated standing to hug her. “You thought I’d be?”

She shrugged, “I didn’t know how you’d react. I was scared you’d leave me.”

Alright, fuck it, he stood and leaned into his daughter, wrapping his arms around her. She buried her head into his chest and sniffed. He rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head, “I love you, always. Nothing you do could change it, alright?”

“I love you, dad.”

He sat back in his seat, and she asked, “What gave you those suspicions?”

He huffed a laugh, “You made your barbies kiss when you were a kid, Lia, which was quite telling if I have to be honest. And when you turned six, I think, you started speaking about how boys at school were ugly and annoying and didn’t understand why your friends wanted a boyfriend when girls were just more interesting.”

She bit her lips to avoid laughing, while Rowan was full-on grinning.

“And,” he kept going, “You never talked to me about a boy.”

“I never told you about a girl either,” she noted with a strong argument. Good thing, as she wished to be a lawyer. He had no doubts she’d make it.

“Which is why I never brought up the subject,” he said. “I could have been wrong.”

She let out a long breath, “Alright, that’s not the reaction I expected but I cannot complain.”

He cocked his head to the side and asked, “Have you told your mother?” If Helia had asked Aelin to keep the secret, she would have, and Rowan couldn’t fault her for that. She had Helia’s entire trust, and it was a good thing.

She winced, “Well, I did tell the dead one.”

Rowan’s brows furrowed and his lips parted, but he couldn’t say anything. He could only look at his daughter in confusion, and she shrugged, “What? I killed her, I can at least keep her entertained in her grave.”

“No,” he said, voice hard. “You did not kill your mother, Helia.”

Helia had never had a problem having two mothers and called them both the same way. Aelin never had a problem with it, had encouraged it even.

She looked away, all swagger fading away from her eyes. There was a vulnerability showing in her eyes, one he wasn’t used to seeing in his daughter. But he, unfortunately, knew it all too well, the guilt that ate someone alive. “Hey,” he breathed. “Lia, do you feel like you killed her?”

“I did, didn’t I?” She said, eyes filling with tears. “If she hadn’t been pregnant with me, her body might have been less exhausted. She would have survived the shock, would have survived the blood loss if she hadn’t had to give birth to me.”

“The only people who are responsible for your mother’s death are the Gods and fate. She was thrilled at the idea of having you, you know. You made her so happy,” that was the truth. Lyria hadn’t been good for him, hadn’t been the right person. But she would have been an amazing mother to Helia, that was something he didn’t doubt.

“I just sometimes fear that you resent me for it, you know?” She admitted, bottom lip quivering. “That if I wasn’t here, you’d still be happily married and all. I kind of ruined it all.”

“No,” he stopped her right there. “Baby, I could never regret you a single day of my life. You made me want to be better, you and Aelin put me out of a dark place I wouldn’t have survived on my own. And…” He sighed. “I hope it doesn’t upset you, but even if your mother had survived, I don’t think we’d still be together.”

Her smile turned watery, “Because it’s always been Aelin?”

“Exactly,” he said, smiling a little. She’d summed it up perfectly. “But it doesn’t mean I didn’t love your mom, because I did. Sometimes, life just surprises us.”

“I know, dad,” she smiled, and then took a deep breath. “How do you think mom would have reacted? To me being a lesbian?”

“She would have loved you just the same she did the day before,” he said, truthful. “She would have been proud of you, for being who you are. Just the way that I am.”

She quickly wiped away a tear from her cheek and tilted her head up, “Well, good. Because I’m not changing for anyone.”

He grinned, “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

She smiled and took a bite of her meal, closing her eyes to enjoy the food. Again, that was such an Aelin thing to do. He missed her, and wished she’d be here today with them. But if Helia had wanted to come out to both parents at the same time, she would have.

As if she could read his thoughts, Helia said, “I will tell mom when she gets home, I think. I just… wanted you to know first.”

“Thank you, Lia,” he said with sincerity. Then he winced, because he was about ruin this perfectly good moment. “I’m afraid I have to slip back into my fussy father mode.”

Her face paled, “Please don’t.”

“We need rules.”

“No we don’t.”

“Helia,” he gave her his infamous dad look. She sighed in resignation, he took it as a sign to continue. “I cannot forbid you from inviting your friends for sleep-overs,” because the Gods knew that teenagers loved to have sleep-overs. “But I trust you enough that you would tell me which friend is… more. If one of them is. Because rules will change if… If you have a girlfriend.”

She narrowed his eyes at him, “Why do you care? I can’t get pregnant, can I?”

He choked on his mouthful of pasta. “Helia Whitethorn,” he scowled.

She raised her hand in the air in a sign of innocence, “I’m just saying! We don’t need rules.”

He cocked his head to the side, “Straight or bisexual or lesbian I don’t give a shit, Helia. What I care about is that you’re only fifteen, and I think you already have a lot of freeom, don’t you?”

That was true. He and Aelin allowed her to go to parties, told her that if she was drinking within reasons, it was alright, and that if she ended up too drunk or in a dangerous situation she could call them, which she had done with Talia a few weeks prior when they started getting sick. Aelin and he wanted her to experience those things, but he also knew that for Aelin it was hard to give her those liberties without feeling as if she was neglecting Helia. She feared becoming like her own mother and father. He supposed that some wounds from her past would never entirely close.

“You’re right,” she mumbled.

“Alright,” he nodded. “So, do you have anything to tell me?”

A blush spread in her cheeks, and she bit her lip. “Talia and I we’re… I love her, dad.” The look on her face, how bright her eyes shone… She looked in love.

“Oh—” He blinked a couple of time. “Alright, you did manage to surprise me in the end today.”

She snorted, “But don’t worry, we never did anything or… Well, you see. We just kiss. So, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

He tried to hold his wince in, he didn’t wish to know more.

On a more serious note she asked, “Does that mean she won’t be able to come over anymore?”

He took a deep breath, unsure of what to say. “It’s a decision that needs to be taken with your mother. But I suppose that if you promise to respect the house rules, I could bring up the idea of sleepovers under the condition of leaving the door open.”

She nearly jumped out of her seat in excitement, “Thank you, dad! You’re the best!”

He couldn’t truly hold back a smile at that, he tried his best to make his girls happy. He supposed he’d done a pretty good job.

••••••

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @elentiyawhitethorn // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy // @danibutterr // @endlessdaydream // @thegreyj // @gracie-rosee // @acreativelydifferentlove // @cretaceous-therapod // @louphantomdragon // @mis-lil-red // @backtobl4ck // @whoever-you-choose-to-love // @lemonade-coolattas // @mad-madeline-ace // @the-introverted-bibliophile // @leiawritesstories // @emilyoftheshadows // @anniesbookshelf // @rainbowcheetah512 // @astra-ad-mare // @story-scribbler // @superspiritfestival l // @wordsafterhours // @rowaelinrambling // @black-daisy-water // @fireheart-violet // @livsdriverslicense // @charlizeed // @ladykreads // @mariamuses // @autumnbabylon // @justreadertings // @highqueenofelfhame // @earthtolinds // @bowdawn

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Eugene Sledge wrote "With the Old Breed: At Peleliu and Okinawa" "Based on notes Sledge secretly kept in a copy of the New Testament, With the Old Breed captures with utter simplicity and searing honesty the experience of a soldier in the fierce Pacific Theater. Here is what saved, threatened, and changed his life. Here, too, is the story of how he learned to hate and kill—and came to love—his fellow man. “In all the literature on the Second World War, there is not a more honest, realistic or moving memoir than Eugene Sledge’s. This is the real deal, the real war: unvarnished, brutal, without a shred of sentimentality or false patriotism, a profound primer on what it actually was like to be in that war. It is a classic that will outlive all the armchair generals’ safe accounts of—not the ‘good war’—but the worst war ever.”—Ken Burns

+

My last conversation with my father before his death was about this book. I had purchased it for him and sent it to him. During a visit, I asked him if he'd read it [he was a veteran of the Pacific war in WWII]. He pulled the book out from a stack beside him and he said he'd read "every word." That it was the best book he'd ever read about the War and he wished he'd written it. He wept.

What followed was the most he ever shared with me about the War. Here are some quotes from Sledge's book:

“As I crawled out of the abyss of combat and over the rail of the Sea Runner, I realized that compassion for the sufferings of others is a burden to those who have it. As Wilfred Owen's poem "Insensibility" puts it so well, those who feel most of others suffer most in war.” ― Eugene B. Sledge With the Old Breed + “In writing I am fulfilling an obligation I have long felt to my comrades in the 1st Marine Division, all of whom suffered so much for our country. None came out unscathed. Many gave their lives, many their health, and some their sanity. All who survived will long remember the horror they would rather forget. But they suffered and they did their duty so a sheltered homeland can enjoy the peace that was purchased at such high cost. We owe those Marines a profound debt of gratitude.” ― Eugene B. Sledge, With the Old Breed: At Peleliu and Okinawa + “I am the harvest of man’s stupidity. I am the fruit of the holocaust. I prayed like you to survive, but look at me now. It is over for us who are dead, but you must struggle, and will carry the memories all your life. People back home will wonder why you can’t forget.” ― Eugene B. Sledge, With the Old Breed: At Peleliu and Okinawa + “Sitting in stunned silence, we remembered our dead. So many dead. So many maimed. So many bright futures consigned to the ashes of the past. So many dreams lost in the madness that had engulfed us. Except for a few widely scattered shouts of joy, the survivors of the abyss sat hollow-eyed and silent, trying to comprehend a world without war.” ― Eugene B. Sledge, With the Old Breed: At Peleliu and Okinawa + “None of us would ever be the same after what we had endured. To some degree that is true, of course, of all human experience. But something in me died at Peleliu. Perhaps it was a childish innocence that accepted as faith the claim that man is basically good. Possibly I lost faith that politicians in high places who do not have to endure war's savagery will ever stop blundering and sending other to endure it.” ― Eugene B. Sledge, With the Old Breed: At Peleliu and Okinawa

+

My father and my relationship was "troubled" you might say. Our last conversation helped me in the years since his death to forgive him for many things, understanding what he was carrying.

I asked him in our conversation "How old were you then?" And he said "19."

[ash5monster01]

(@he-is-half-my-soul I hope you don’t mind but this post inspired a little something in me because I live for tropes where each of the poets come to terms with Neil’s death)

Trapped in Time

Warnings: mentions of suicide, depression, grief, light swearing, all around sad, and I’m sorry.

Summary: after Neils death and Graduation the Dead Poets make sure to keep in touch, not wanting to risk losing another. They help each other through the grief and remind each other that the powerful play still goes on. When they discover Todd still struggles they band together to do the same for him.

Masterlist

Each of the Dead Poets found themselves in different places after graduation and college. Despite the distance they never lost touch and in the end it was a good thing. They had a shared life experience, one surrounded by turmoil and trauma. Not many people in the world went through what they did. They saw the light at the end of tunnel but before they could get to it they lost a friend, their teacher, and some of them a school. So when the torture of the future they tried so desperately to avoid came crushing down on them they had each other. The only issue being the distance keeping them from seeing things right away.

Luckily for Todd, Charlie had ended up in the city just like him. Todd kept his quiet persona but was less outspoken which worked in favor with Charlie’s still boisterous personality. Todd became an English professor at NYU and Charlie found himself on Wall Street, a shark in the business, his father no longer deeming him incompetent considering he was now more successful than him. Either way the two ended up having each other, only a 30 minute cab ride from the other’s apartment. They met weekly for dinner or lunch and it was always nice to have a familiar face.

Charlie had been uptown for work. Meeting with investors and attending fancy lunches and dinner shows. Basically kissing ass and praying they’d shake on the deal. He was also bitterly annoyed when he had to cancel lunch with Todd and make plans for dinner. This bothered him because Todd didn’t have any classes today and without Charlie he would never leave the house. Todd still needed to learn how to live a little and Charlie figured it was fate he ended up near him stead of any of the other poets. So Charlie with a permanent scowl walked beside his business partner in the Broadway district, annoyed he sat through an entire play just for the investors to say they were considering a different direction. So here he was stuck uptown, annoyed about work, and disappointed he missed lunch with his best friend for something as stupid as that.

“We didn’t need them anyways Charles, we have other investors” Benjamin, his business partner pried as he tried to keep up with him.

“I know, I’m just annoyed they wasted my time. I enjoy theater but that was torture” Charlie grunted, realizing twenty minutes into the show the investors were freaks and knew nothing about real entertainment.

“Yeah I could’ve gone my entire life without seeing that” he agreed, knowing full well he didn’t understand a damn thing that happened the entire time he watched the play.

“Idiots, all of them” suddenly Charlie stopped, Benjamin practically running in to him from trying to keep up the entire time.

“Woah, why we stopping?” Benjamin caught his balance and moved back from Charlie where he almost knocked him face first to the cement.

“Todd?” Benjamin looked up to see Charlie catching the attention of a blonde gentleman stepping out of the theater.

“Charlie, what’re you doing on Broadway?” Todd meekly asked, the brunette boy approaching him. Charlie assessed the situation, surprised to see Todd out, that was until he looked up at the sign above the theater. A Midsummer Nights Dream.

“I should be asking you the same thing” he said, trying to read any emotions coming from the boy. Todd went to speak but was caught of abruptly.

“Mr. Anderson, you forgot your coat” a theater worker rushed from the doors, holding out his jacket. Todd happily accepted it. “Maybe you wouldn’t forget it if you stayed till the end of the show for once”

“Thank you Margaret” Todd acknowledged her, wincing slightly that he was caught red handed by Charlie.

“Margaret” Charlie stopped the woman from walking away and she turned with a smile. “How long have you been putting on this show?”

“About a month and a half now. Mr. Anderson here enjoys it so much he comes once a week, sometimes twice if we’re lucky” Todd’s shoulders fell and Charlie nodded and thanked her as she disappeared back into the theater.

“Do you want to explain?” Charlie pressed, Todd struggling to make eye contact with him.

“You know I don’t” Charlie sighed, pressing a hand to his face. Benjamin stood confused but patiently waited nonetheless.

“Do you know how bad this looks? Todd why would you do this to yourself?” Charlie wanted to cry. He never ever wanted to relive that night again. To this day it was still the worst 24 hours of his life and here Todd was trying to relive it.

“I don’t know Charlie?! I just do” Benjamin was surprised to hear someone refer to the man as Charlie and not Charles. Sighing Charlie turned to his business partner.

“Head back to the office, let Clarice know to clear my schedule the rest of the day. I have to deal with this” Benjamin nodded, feeling he already peeked to far into Charlie’s personal life than he ever wanted too. With zero hesitation he rushed off, ready to finish his workday.

“I need you to explain this to me Todd, or else I can’t help you” Charlie pleaded and Todd sighed as he looked down to the coat in his arms.

“Can we at least sit down?” he asked and Charlie nodded, starting back on his pace as he bustled down the city sidewalks to a diner that was sure to appear. He grimaced at the Worlds Best Coffee sign in the window that every diner in this God forsaken city seemed to have.

“You want to explain it now?” Charlie asked as he went to take a sip of the worlds best coffee. Todd kept his gaze on the table, not wanting to meet his eyes.

“It started when you had to cancel lunch since something got messed up at work. I didn’t want to sit home so I went for a walk. That’s when I saw the sign. At first I wanted to run away but then I realized I hadn’t seen the play since that night. I practically knew it word for word since Neil made me run lines with him every chance we got. It felt like I watched it yesterday even though I hadn’t seen it in years” Charlie felt his heart tighten. They had all been at the play but Todd was the one who practiced with him. Todd played every part alongside Neil’s Puck.

“So you went inside?” Charlie egged on, needing to know the dark thoughts in the boys head. They all struggled with the shadow of grief, it’s overbearing weight crushing their shoulders over the smallest things. For Charlie it was soccer. Him and Neil had played together since children and after he died he never played or watched again.

“I figured it would be a good thing. Give myself a new memory but then the end came. It was Pucks big speech and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. That was Neil’s moment, I remember cheering so loud my lungs hurt, then I remembered it was pretty much the last thing I ever heard him say. So I ran out, too afraid to relive it” Todd said and this made Charlie more confused.

“If it was too hard why did you go back?” he asked, leaning forward on the table wanting to know where this was going.

“I wanted to find the strength to finish it. I never could though. After a while it became less about finishing it and more about getting lost in the play. Feeling like that 17 year old kid again who just saw his best friend follow his dreams. It felt like when Neil was still alive” this answer hit Charlie like a ton of bricks. This was torture and he had gone too long without realizing Todd was trapped in an endless cycle of torment.

“Todd-” Charlie held his face in his hands, not knowing what to say. He wasn’t prepared for this, this was worse then having nightmares about that night or crying when it all became too much.

“I know, I know I need to stop. It’s hard though, when I’m home with nothing to do I started remembering and getting upset and when I sit in that play for at least an hour it’s as if nothing ever happened” Todd told him and Charlie nodded, understanding wanting to feel like the people they were before tragedy struck.

“You can’t go back Todd, if you ever find yourself needing to go you call me. I’ll cancel whatever I’m doing, say it’s a family emergency because you’re the only family I have Todd and I can’t let this consume you” Todd nodded, feeling guilty for having kept this secret for so long.

“Okay, I promise” with a content nod Charlie accepted this answer, not needing to have anymore depressing conversation.

After they ate their meals and Charlie made sure Todd got home he found himself unable to stop thinking about what Todd had been doing. Tugging his tie from his neck and getting ready for bed he kept going over it, again and again, wanting to understand how he could put himself through that. Yet the longer he thought about it he realized how little closure they all got. The days after Neil’s death were filled with so many things. In a matter of a few days they went through losing a friend from suicide, a funeral, their teacher getting fired, and for Charlie, getting kicked out of school. Everyone was so focused on finding who to blame, including the Poets, that none of them ever came to terms with the fact that Neil was really gone. So with this in mind he came up with an idea.

Putting the plan together wasn’t hard. Using his connections he found a way. So even though Todd thought this was just a normal dinner for the two of them he actually had no idea what was to come. So Charlie knocked on his door, signature smirk proud on his face as he waited for Todd to open it.

“Hey Charlie-” Todd froze as he saw not only Charlie but Knox, Chris, Meeks, and Pitts standing behind him. “What’s this?”

“We’re all going to dinner, and a show” Charlie reached forward and Todd saw the familiar ticket in his hand. When Charlie had reached out to the boys and told them about what was happening they all agreed immediately to help Todd through this. After all every single one of them needed it too.

“I thought it was a bad idea” Todd said, already growing nervous at the thought.

“I did. I still do. Then I realized the reason you felt that way about the play was because you never got closure. None of us did. So we’re gonna stay to the end, and hopefully when we all get through it we will feel a bit better” Charlie said before stepping to the side and gesturing to follow them out. Todd nodded, still nervous as they left his apartment and made their way out to the loud streets.

It was like deja vu sitting in those seats all together again. Every single one of them remembered the night like yesterday. Charlie nearly jumped as the orchestra started in the pitch black of the theater. Knox squeezed Chris’ hand like his life depended on it. Todd tried to settle his nerves as they waited for it to start. When the actor who played Puck appeared it was as if the whole group couldn’t breathe. He had the same look in his eyes that Neil did all those years ago and Charlie felt himself begin to cry. Pitts and Meeks looked at him with sympathy as they all faced this nightmare together. Suddenly Todd’s hand appeared on Charlie’s back and gave it a comforting rub.

When the end of the play approached Charlie felt the air surrounding him thin. There it was, the feeling Todd had described. This was the last moment they saw their friend with a smile on his face. When he came out for that final bow and looked so fucking proud. Their friend who deserved the world and everything it had to offer because if anyone of them deserved to be in this world so did he. So Charlie sucked in a breath and kept his eyes on Todd who looked like he wanted to flee his seat. All six of them grabbed hands and prepared for it to end and the curtain to drop.

“If we have unearned luck. Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, We will make amends ere long; Else the Puck a liar call; So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends” chills filled their bones as the last line was spoken and the curtain dropped. As Charlie turned to Todd he saw the boy absolutely broken, sobs raked his body. The boys all wrapped themselves around him in a hug. Bystanders clearly confused by their emotional behavior but this was a beautiful moment for the group. They faced their demons and they did it together.

“See Mr. Anderson, the end is beautiful” Margaret said as the exited the theater and he smiled at her.

“It really is, thank you Margaret” Todd told her and she waved as the group followed him out the doors.

“That was intense” Knox sighed, his arm wrapped tightly around his wife.

“I never realized how heavy that moment was until now” Meeks muttered pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Neil would’ve loved this, going to Broadway and seeing the shows. Hell even being in them” Charlie said and the group nodded as they reminisced their friend.

“He’s with us now, I know it” Pitts smiled and Todd looked up at the sky, barely any stars visible, a violet haze around the earth.

“He changed my life, I wish he would’ve stuck around to see how it turned out” Todd muttered and Charlie tugged him in a hug, thankful he could help his friend.

“He was my best friend, my first friend. The only guy who put up with me until I met you dorks” Charlie said as he pulled away.

“His heart was too big, he would’ve given each of us the world if he could” Knox told them and Chris smiled, never having met their beloved friend. But she remembered him in that play, it was the best local theater she had ever seen and despite not knowing him she knew he would’ve changed the world.

“To Neil, and us. Remember the powerful play goes on and we may contribute a verse”