#I spent literally three years straight doing homework with no breaks

[theglamorousferal]

Tony keeps in touch with Harley post IM3.

Tony hacks into Harley's school to see what his grades are and it not clocking that he could literally just ask about it.

Tony keeping up with the Keener’s via twice monthly phone calls that turn into weekly ones that turn into Tony and Mrs. Keener texting back and forth.

Tony invites the kid to visit during a school break where they both just tinker with things. Harley is nervous at first until they meet up again and they start snarking back and forth.

At least one minor fire or explosion happens. If asked, neither know what started it. (Tony was wiring a gauntlet and Harley jokingly called him Dad when Tony told him he had to do his homework.)

The Keener’s visit for a week in the summertime, Tony has bought the lake house earlier to have a place away from people. Mrs. Keener and Pepper get along pretty well and both the kids like Pepper, so Tony counts it as a win.

Tony offers to pay for Harley and his sister's education and Mrs. Keener took him up on it because there was no way she’d be able to afford to send both her kids to college unless one of them got a free ride and Tony shows he cares by spending money and making sure those he cares about are safe and comfortable.

Harley spends the summer before his freshman year of high school with Tony. Tony finds a used classic car and they spend the summer rebuilding it and upgrading the engine to run clean.

Tony finds Spider-Man and finds out he’s a year older than Harley. Tony panics because here’s another kid genius but this one's in way over his head and will stay in over his head regardless of if he has support or proper equipment. Tony decides that no one else is gonna help this kid and give him as much protection as he could if he built him a suit, so he does just that.

Tony finds out about Midtown through Peter and approaches Mrs. Keener with an opportunity for Harley. (It's a genius school and it's practically a feeder to MIT, it'll be great.) Harley moves into the tower that Tony has kept here because he has reason to stay in the city.

Tony is a lot better at dealing with a kid because he's been hanging out with Harley so long, so he invites Peter over to meet Harley and have lab time. 

Harley just quips “so you’re my replacement?” to Peter and Peter immediately panicking and stuttering over himself while Harley howls with laughter.

Harley helps Peter learn to be more comfortable around Tony by roasting Tony for twenty straight minutes and after a month of lab days enlists Peter's help in making a program for FRIDAY to blast Barbie Girl when Tony has spent 24 hours or more in the lab.

Peter asks Harley to hang out with Ned outside of lab days. The three of them end up building a LEGO Deathstar and have drawn up the plans to be able to make it hover the next lab day.

Peter and Harley become thick as thieves and get to the point of that weird twin telepathy especially when it comes to being sassy.

One school break the three of them didn't go outside for the first four days, just spending most of the time in the lab so Pepper comes in and orders them to go outside for once my god Tony. Take them to your favorite burger place, I don't care, just be outside.

This leads to the three of them getting Pap'd. ("Yeah, I was out to lunch with my two interns, what's the matter with that?" is the quote above a picture of him laughing as the two boys pretend their straw wrappers are mustaches.)

This leads Tony to realize that he hadn't actually gotten the boys registered as his interns and remedies this immediately. (with backpay into a trust for each of them(Harley already gets an allowance, Tony has no idea how much is the proper amount to give to a 14 year old, and so usually gives him a few of whatever bills are in his wallet.))

Tony decides that now that they're officially employees of SI, that means they get to check out the place and so brings them down to R&D where everybody is immediately charmed by Peter and amused by Harley. The boys end up talking to the interns on the floor while Tony discusses the latest StarkPad.

One lab day both Harley and Peter look exhausted but Peter still showed up for lab time so they make their way there. Tony takes one look at them and asks FRIDAY to scan them, they both have fevers and he herds them into his living room.

Tony orders all the cold remedies he can think of to be brought up to the penthouse. Tony instructs the boys to pick a movie while he gathers blankets and dumps them on the boys.

Tony frantically texting Harley's mom and May asking them what he should do I've never taken care of a sick kid before, there are two of them, what do I do??

May asks Tony if Peter can stay the night because she's working a double that she can't get out of. He says yes if she can tell him what to do for sick kids because Harley's mom hasn't been able to respond.

Tony ends up joining the boys on the couch after forcing each of them to take cold medicine and thrusting a bowl of chicken noodle soup into each of their hands. Tony's in between the boys.

Over the course of WALL-E each boy begins to sag eventually trapping Tony on the couch. He's got one drooling in his shoulder and another drooling on his thigh. He asks FRIDAY to take several pictures before going back to his work on his StarkPad.

This starts Peter staying over whenever May is working night shifts. Then staying over every other weekend. Then Tony invites May and Peter to go on vacation to the lake house for a few days in the summer.

The Keener family is also present and May, Pepper and Mrs. Keener get on like a house on fire. Peter loves playing with Abbie with Harley. Three group chats are made that day. The adults in a co-parenting chat, the ladies in an exasperated with our geniuses chat and the kids in a sass and meme chat.

Just, Tony becomes a dad to two brilliant boys (and maybe one of the boy's baby sisters too depending how you want to write her).

#fanfic #long post #tony stark #peter parker #may parker #harley keener #irondad #spiderson #potato son #pepper potts #ironfam #starkers dni #irondad and spiderson #iron man #iron man 3 #pepperony #spiderman

[goldencuffs]

persuasion

@lamenweek day six: auguste lives au

It’s four-thirty on a Wednesday, and Damen is exhausted, worn down and irritated over the fact that he’s still stuck in the gym storage room, sorting through eight boxes of equipment.

The year seven kid in here with him, Peter, is slow and mullish: he’s only here because Huet gave him detention for not doing his homework for the third week in a a row.

Damen is here because his entire faculty is incompetent. These boxes were supposed to be unpacked a month ago, at the start of the term, but after Kallias walked out, things have been… hectic, to say the least.

In the stifling heat, Peter’s odour is unpleasant, because he’s thirteen, and thirteen year old boys reek.

Damen is seriously considering telling him to leave, but the extra pair of hands, no matter how small and slow, are still better than nothing.

Then, Damen hears the squeak of trainers across the shiny linoleum floor, and a tall, slim figure leans against the doorway, arms crossed.

Damen bites back a sigh, his irritation spiking.

Laurent says, “Hey you, fuck off.”

Peter balks. “Me?”

Damen has his back turned, but in the ensuing silence, he knows that Laurent is staring the poor kid down, unwilling to repeat himself.

“Mr Vallis…” Peter starts, voice high and whiny.

This time Damen sighs loudly. “It’s fine, Peter. You can go home.”

Peter does so, without a goodbye, and when the gym doors close once more, Laurent says, “Damen, I need to talk to you.”

Damen turns around, mirroring Laurent’s pose. “Laurent, I’ve told you a hundred times not to call me by name at school. It’s Mr Vallis to you inside these gates. Always.”

Laurent rolls his eyes. Everything about him, as usual, is immaculate. There isn’t a single hair out of place, he’s still wearing his blazer, and unlike the most boys in this school, he hasn’t loosened his tie or unbuttoned his shirt to wave off the heat.

The only indication that he isn’t a weird, strange robot is the pink across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

“Unless you’re planning on help me with this, I need you to fuck off too,” Damen says, ready to turn back around.

“Actually, Mr Vallis,” Laurent straightens, and Damen doesn’t miss the inflection in his name, “I need a favour.”

Damen unpacks the third box, almost bursting into tears when he sees they’re nets. Nets always go on the top shelf. His back is going to break by the end of it.

“What is it?” He belatedly asks, realising Laurent is watching him.

Laurent presses his tongue to his top lip. “I know there’s a spot open on the wrestling team, and it would look really good on my uni applications if I wrote that I’m—”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Revere. I already told you before the holidays that if your grades don’t improve—”

“They have! I managed to get a B in Ancient History—"

“You need a B average, not just in one subject. I’ve already checked, and you’re barely scraping a C.”

Laurent makes an indignant scoff. “Yes, but it would be a B average if Auguste helped me out with Chemistry—which is the only subject I’m failing, by the way. And he doesn’t help me at all—what’s the point of him being the best Chem teacher at this school if he won’t put me in his class!”

Damen runs a hand over his face. “You know you can’t have your brother teaching you—it’s against school policy.”

“Fine, whatever,” Laurent shrugs. “But, I swear I’ve been trying Dam—Mr Vallis. Can’t you make an exception for me?”

“Absolutely not,” Damen snorts.

“Ugh! What’s the point of knowing teachers if they don’t help you out when you need it?”

Damen shrugs. “Tough luck, kid. If I gave you the spot, it might keep someone who actually deserves it from joining.”

“I deserve it.”

Damen rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” Laurent adopts a haughty look, head held high. “I’ll tell your boyfriend Auguste that you’re being a dick—”

“We’ve been over this Laurent; I’m not dating your brother.”

“Hmm, could have fooled me,” Laurent mutters in a dangerous undertone. “All that touching and cuddling and inside jokes—”

Damen knows that he shouldn’t rise to bait presented to him by a belligerent eighteen year old, but he’s tired, and it’s been a long, long day so he snaps, “Yeah, that’s what friends do, you little shit. Not that you would know what it’s like to have one.”

He regrets it as soon as he says it: Damen is the adult here (the proper one) and more importantly, he’s Laurent’s teacher. A professional.

Laurent’s face falls, and genuine hurt settles into his eyes.

The corners of his mouth droop, and his voice shakes as he says, “You’re such an asshole.”

Damen sighs, “Laurent—”

“Fuck you, Damen,” Laurent says, and turns on his heel in one smooth, elegant move.

*

Two weeks later, Auguste holds one last barbeque party to mourn the end of summer.

It’s not a crowded party: just four other teachers from school, two of Auguste’s uni friends, and of course, bloody Laurent.

He hasn’t said a single word to Damen all afternoon, the rude shit. Not that Damen expects anything less from the most prickly person he knows.

Laurent normally doesn’t even hang out with them, but since he turned eighteen over the winter, Auguste has been trying to include him in their gatherings a lot more.

It’s still a bit surreal to see Laurent easily holding down conversations with men twice his age, a beer bottle pressed to his mouth.

(That part is not so surprising. Damen caught Laurent guzzling an entire bottle of wine when he was sixteen, in this very kitchen).

Orlant touches Laurent’s knee, and says something that makes him laugh raucously.

Damen stands from the couch and makes his way over.

“Hey,” he says, “I think your brother’s calling you.”

Laurent frowns, eyes drifting over to the alfresco, where Auguste is belting Wannabe by Spice Girls and ignoring the grill, Lazar attempting to beatbox along with the words.

God, the steaks are going to burn.

“I don’t think so,” Laurent says.

When Damen doesn’t leave, Orlant says, “You good, man?”

Damen doesn’t bother to reply. He frowns at Laurent. “You’ve been drinking non stop since you got here.”

Laurent throws him a disgusted look. “You’re not my teacher outside of school hours. Fuck off.”

Orlant raises an eyebrow, looking between them. “You’re his student?”

“Barely,” Laurent mutters. “He just makes us do laps and teaches us abstinence like a pastor from the seventies.”

“The curriculum suggests that I—”

“And he won’t put me on his wrestling team because of a small technicality.”

“It’s not a small—”

“You should let him on the team, man,” Orlant says, smiling at Laurent.

Laurent smiles back, eyelashes fluttering.

Damen frowns again.

“Thank you,” Laurent says to Orlant. “I wish you were the coach. Nikandros spent all summer helping me perfect my form, and it’s all been for nothing.”

Damen feels his face crack. “Nikandros? Since when have you been hanging out with him?”

Laurent gives him a devious smile. “Oh, I can be very persuasive. He spent the entire time telling me how good I was.” He flutters his lashes at Damen this time. “It’s a shame you won’t be able to see for yourself, Mr Vallis.”

Orlant watches Laurent shamelessly.

Damen grits his teeth, blood rushing to his head, and grips Laurent’s bicep, ignoring his “Hey!”

He drags Laurent to the unoccupied living room, pushing him away in disgust the moment they’re alone. “What the fuck is your problem, Revere?”

“What the fuck is yours?” Laurent snaps, rubbing his bicep. “Have you lost it already? You usually go crazy around midterms.”

“Shut up,” Damen hisses. “What are you playing at? Did you seriously go to Nikandros for wrestling tips?”

Laurent is still rubbing his bicep, the drama queen. “Well, yes. You wouldn’t help me, so I had to look somewhere else for… expertise. And Nikandros was more than willing to help. Eventually.”

Damen can feel a headache coming on. “Nikandros is shit at wrestling.”

Laurent laughs. “Oh my god. You’re acting like a baby.” “And you’re being your usual intolerable self.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Now Laurent looks livid, his eyes flashing with malice.

“You haven’t even tried to get to know me for the last three years. When you told me I had to improve my grades, I studied my ass off. I got a tutor. I even went to fucking summer school. And yeah, I might only have a C average, but I’ve improved in literally everything. I’ve only failed one subject! At least Nikandros was willing to listen to me. You just behave like an ass.”

Damen swallows, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks away, down at the shiny, tiled floor.

He sighs, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“What was that?”

Damen looks at Laurent, at the sun shining down his head. “I said I’m sorry. Perhaps I have been… a little unfair.”

Laurent snorts and presses his mouth together,

“I didn’t realise how hard you’ve been working,” Damen says, appreciative. “I’m proud of you.”

Laurent goes red. He rolls his eyes, but it’s half-hearted. “Whatever. You’re still a dick.”

Damen smiles. “Yeah, I guess.”

There’s a brief, awkward silence.

Then Damen says, “Okay, give me your speech.”

“My speech, Mr Vallis?”

“Yeah,” Damen raises an eyebrow. “Give me whatever speech you gave Nikandros. If it can convince him to teach you to wrestle, it might convince me to give you a shot on the team.”

Laurent stands straight, assessing him for a moment. “Are you sure, Mr Vallis?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

Laurent gives him a smile Damen has never seen before. It unleashes something dark in his eyes.

Damen swallows, his heart suddenly picking up pace.

Laurent saunters towards him, still with that smile. He comes close enough that Damen can see the small smattering of freckles on his nose.

Damen presses his back to the counter. “Laurent…”

Laurent bites his lip. “Everyone thinks you’re the hottest teacher at school, Mr Vallis. I’ve had a crush on you since my first year.”

Damen coughs, startled. “Laurent, what…”

“Do you want me to give my speech or not?”

Damen’s chest heaves with his breaths. He assesses Laurent’s beautiful face, his mind carefully shutting down.

“Yes,” he says quietly.

Laurent’s smile is sweet and shy.

He’s still wearing that smile when he gets down on his knees. His fingers are quick, nimble as they unbuckle Damen’s belt.

The clank of metal is loud, even amongst the drone of the party.

Damen should stop this. He should say something. Laurent is his student. More than that, he’s his best friend’s just-legal little brother. Damen should—

Laurent kisses the tip of his cock through the cloth, dragging his tongue over it, making it damp.

“Fuck, Laurent.”

Laurent pulls back and smiles at him, eyes half-mast. “I managed to convince Nikandros in about three minutes. Do you think you’ll last a bit longer?”

Damen grunts, hips moving in aborted jerks as Laurent slides down his underwear.

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

#captive prince #lamen week 2021 #this is the vaguest auguste lives au ever lmaoooooooooo #also this is so late please tell me its day six somewhere #my writing #my fic

[creativeashproductions]

A Discovery of Ghosts // Luke Patterson

Summary: Avoiding the house, the eldest Molina sibling has been unaware of the new chapter in Julie’s life until one fateful night.

Warning: Swearing, angst, fluff and overprotective!reader

Words: 2.1k

Oh look! Another JATP fic. Weird how it appeared? Enjoy! I may have a part two for Lost Time. If you want it, let me know!

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

The dirty bag dropped on the ground as you cracked your neck heading straight for the kitchen, for the last year you would find Julie in there. Before the loss of your mother Julie spent all her time in the studio whether it be doing homework or playing the piano. Now, with the grief still striking hot within the Molina family even a year later.

“Jules?” You called out pouring a large glass of water. Dropping the empty water bottle in the sink.

In all honesty you hadn’t been home longer than to grab a bite and sleep before heading straight back to the field. It was a way of keeping away from the sadness permeating the house and the absence of your mom. Along with avoiding the awkward conversations of selling the house when it was really only Julie that okay with it.

“Dad?” You called next grabbing the sticky note off the fridge

Girls,

Carlos had a last-minute practice. Money left in the jar for supper.

- Dad

You hummed heading for the stairs to take a shower taking a guess that Julie was either in her room or at Flynn’s place. Bag in hand along with the softball bat you started up the stairs leading to your room. The faint conversation from her room was odd to say the least, the door was closed, and it sounded like more than one person.

The door opened easily under your hand scaring Julie who was sitting on her bed with a disgruntled expression. Her look of terror and nerves was the most concerning. Dropping the bag, you gripped the softball bat tight as you pushed the door open the rest of the way.

“Jules?” You spoke scanning the room, “Why do you have three boys in your room?”

The room went stock still, each boy scanning your form and the bat in hand. Standing in uniform coated in red soil from the infield you were on the more intimidating side.

“You can see them?”

“Jules, are you okay?” You questioned ignoring her odd question with a look of concern, the bat dropped low.

The last year had been extremely more difficult on Julie than Carlos and you given that Julie was closer with Mom with music. Carlos and you hadn’t inherited the gift that Julie had been born with; yet she hadn’t found interest in sports.

“She looks like she could break us?”

You sent a confused look at the trio giving your attention back to your little sister, “I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately, but you shouldn’t be acting out like this.” Julie’s jaw dropped at your words, “I’m not acting out! Dad can’t see-“

“He can’t see this because it shouldn’t be happening Julie.” You sternly told the younger Molina, “Just let me shower and we’ll hang out. You can pick the movie and the snacks, but they have to go. If you want, we can even dig out the projector.”

You pointedly looked at the three boys before turning your heel to head out of her room to yours down the hall. The door was closed tight as it always was, it was your space so when the door was shut no one went in. Trust was important in your family and with Julie uncharacteristically sneaking boys in that could mean all trust on closed doors would break.

“They’re ghosts.” Julie called out from her open door. The concern for the girl growing at her words, “I know that sounds bad and makes it seem like I need to see Dr. Turner but I’m not lying.”

You sighed at the girl completely in disbelief at the length she would go to lie, “Maybe you should see Dr. Turner Jules. Seeing the doctor doesn’t make you weak.”

Julie was silent as you began to open your door before the blonde boy literally appeared out of thin air in front of you.

“Oh my god!” You screamed stumbling back from the tall male, “Oh God. Scratch that! WE both need Dr. Turner.”

Two more bursts of light happened as the other two boys appeared in front of you with sheepish expressions. You took in a deep breath finally taking into consideration of Julie’s admittance.

“I-“ You choked out, “Does this mean Benny was a ghost?”

Julie blushed at the mention of her childhood imaginary friend that she had had for a number of years. It was also a time that Tía Victoria was not welcome in your home when she went behind your parents to schedule an appointment with Dr. Turner.

“Benny? No, I’m Reggie.” The boy with slicked back black hair spoke shaking his head, “This is Alex and Luke.”

You mutely nodded clenching your fists together, “Good thing you’re a ghost or I would have punched you.”

Luke’s eyes widened at the threat, “Whoa.”

“Now move. I just got home from practice, I’m sweaty and dirty.” You announced side stepping the ghostly trio. You grimaced at the blush appearing on Reggie and Luke, “Dead but still think inappropriately.”

“We’re teenage ghosts.” Alex announced glancing at his best friends. His hands shoved deep in his pockets as you took in his words.

You glanced over your shoulder at your little sister, “Just stay out of Julie’s room. And don’t look under Carlos’ bed.”

With that you opened the bedroom door and slammed in in their dead faces. The room had drastically changed from the previous year mainly the pale pink was painted over by a new colour. It was no longer the little girl’s room your mother had decorated while preparing for your birth. It was a young woman’s room decorated to fit your personality.

Located on a wall was the rack of softball bats with a number of softballs settled in divots on the connected shelf. Your room also had the only other connected bathroom, being the oldest sibling had benefits.

“Ghosts.” You muttered jumping when a thud happened. Turning your heel, you saw that Alex had opened the door and tossed your ball bag in.

“You left this. Sorry for interrupting.” Alex apologized as he left the room again.

“Boundaries!” You called out heading into your bathroom. Alex smiled at how similar he thought you and Julie were to each other.

Half of you had anticipated Julie getting the living room ready instead of using the projector in the garage; it was a part of growing up. The first time you can remember seeing the projector was when you first got your period and it became a thing with your mom. For the length of time for you period you had movie nights in the garage and when Julie got her first period it came a ritual. It helped that as sisters your periods synched together.

“Julie.” You breathed finding that she had surprised you. She had waited in the living room for you, “You didn’t.”

Shyly the younger Molina girl nodded her head and led you to the studio outside where it decorated as if the past year hadn’t happened. The projected was brought out along with countless snacks, fuzzy blankets and soda. It was also barren of anyone else.

“I’m guessing from the amount of time you’re in here that the ghosts live here?” You deduced at the musical instruments placed in an area they wouldn’t get in the way.

“Yeah.” Julie nodded, “I’m not sure where they are.”

“Righ-“

“Reggie!” Alex hissed from the loft with an apologetic expression, “We’re finding something to do while you use the studio. We’re be gone in a moment.”

Reggie and Luke nodded in response while digging through the things that had collected up there since 1995. Your smile turned into a frown at the discontentment they each displayed.

“Jules. Do they have anywhere else to go?” You whispered feeling sad when Julie indicated that this was their only place, “Why don’t we change this?”

“Change what?”

“I know that this feels odd without Mom but maybe we can make this better. Alex, would you guys like to stay?”

The question was barely spoke before the three ghosts flashed down to the ground floor with beaming grins. Each boy nodded happily eyeing up places to sit, Luke having fallen on the couch beside you. Julie shuffled making more room on the couch draping a blanket over her lap.

“So, Julie…comedy, horror, or romance?” You questioned raising one eyebrow up waiting for the reply, “Or we can subject the boys to Twilight. Then again Alex might enjoy Mean Girls.”

After reading the short description of the film Mean Girls was vetoed out along with Horror but the issue came with the move genre. Luke wanted a film with music while Reggie was asking for romance and Alex was just wanting to watch something.

“Pitch Perfect.” Julie and you spoke together nodding frantically, it had a moderately nice balance between music and romance.

“Pitch Perfect.” Alex stated unamused at the title, “How is that romance?”

“You’ll find out.” You smirked at the male dead teenager who would more than likely adore watching films to catch up on everything he missed during his twenty-five years in a dark room.

Every once in a while, Luke would gaze longingly at the food gathered around the only two living people. It was sad given the love he had had with food when he was still alive, he would anything in sight to be honest.

“Oh my god! The Breakfast Club! That came out ten years ago! It’s popular now?” Reggie exclaimed twisting to look to Julie.

“Gentle reminder. It came out thirty-five years ago. It’s a classic John Hughes! Of course, it’s popular.” You chuckled shaking your head by leaning back. You felt the caress of Luke’s gaze on your cheek but when you glanced over, he was staring hard at the screen.

“You good?”

“Yeah.” Luke nodded with a smile painted on his lips getting further into the comedy he found somewhat interesting. It was the song choices that got to him.

The music from your Spotify playlist muted the outside world as you focused on the computer screen open to a document. Eyes shifting between the paper of notes on your desk to the half-written History essay due in a few days. The last week had been mostly adapting to being one of two people able to see the band.

“Y/N.” Luke spoke from the doorway he had poofed into. A frown pulling the corner of his lips down at the lack of attention. In an action of desperation he chucked a pencil on your back; you flinched turning to see him in your room.

“Luke?” You asked removing an earbud from your ear. The joys of 2020 came with Bluetooth earbuds.

“Oh. You were listening to music.” Luke nodded moving to grab the earbud from the desk curiously, “Where are the wires? So small! How do they work?”

Launching into a short history on the change of music technology Luke was enthralled by the passion you carried. What he didn’t know was you were researching the changes between 1995 and 2020 for his benefit. Going as far as to compile a playlist for all three boys to introduce them to modern music.

“This is insane.” Luke mumbled handing the earbud back, “Cell phones are what get me!”

“Hey, doesn’t matter if your seventeen or forty-something…you still don’t understand it.” You smirked flinching when Luke tossed a decorative pillow at you with practiced ease. The squeal fell from your lips as it happened.

“If I was forty-something this would be very wrong.” Luke cheekily retorted tapping a finger on his knee thinking back on everything that happened, “Had everything gone to plan you would have known me only by music.”

“I’m sorry you died but I’m really happy we met.” The nerves evident in your tone, something that you didn’t often show. Softball was important and possibly the only ticket to college if everything went right.

“Me too.” Luke smile at the girl across him eyes so soft he could see what Alex and Reggie were trying to tell him.

Luke had a crush. Luke had feelings for a girl living and unable to feel his touch.

“Hey! I made a playlist for you guys. Let me know when you want to hear them, and I’ll get it playing for you. I have to get back to my essay. Feel free to stay.”

Luke graciously took the earbud from your hand leaning back on the bed as you played the rock he had unfortunately missed out on. Both unaware that his fingers had grazed your hand during the handoff. Luke has a crush and he can touch her too.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED!)

@safehavenmuse​ @siennanoelle01​ @whiterose291​ @mell-bell​ @blackhood5sos​ @ficrecsideblog​ @ifilwtmfc​ @deadpoolgirl23​ @crappy-unicorn​ @sunsetcurve-h​

#luke patterson imagines #julie and the phantoms imagines #jatp luke #luke patterson x reader #angst #caitsy and ash productions #jatp #jatp fanfic

[searchingwardrobes]

Ivory Runs Red: 5/6

First off, massive thanks to the @cssns​, my beta @demisexualemmaswan​, and my artist @cocohook38​. Cocohook created this amazing cover art, and she is working on something else too to go with this story. The rough sketch made my jaw drop, so I can’t wait for ya’ll to see it!

This part  is going to be a little long, but I need to address something that I got multiple comments about. Just bear with me; this is the only way I can think to clear things up. I was really surprised to see that some people were angry at David and Mary Margaret for not doing anything to find Emma and/or "allowing" her relationship with Neal. Others simply expressed things along the lines of "I hope you explain what David and Mary Margaret did about all this." The reason this reaction surprised me so much is because I thought it was clear that they HAD done something. Why would the Golds need to get rid of police files if the Swans never reported Emma missing? Why would issues of the newspaper be missing from the library if Emma's disappearance wasn't reported on? Obviously, David and Mary Margaret did something! As for Neal, they had no idea Emma was seeing him. If you'll recall, in a previous chapter, Emma told Killian she had to sneak out at night to meet Neal. So that wasn't Snowing's fault either. Also, how would any of these characters know what David and Mary Margaret did or didn't do for their daughter? This is almost a hundred years later, and Emma's memories are dulled from being a ghost for so long. The only way I could spell out clearly how Snowing handled their daughter's disappearance would be some sort of convoluted info-dump, and I didn't want to destroy the tone and mood of the story to do that. But just so everyone knows: Yes, Emma's parents were devastated. They did everything in their power to find her, never giving up hope (which is so in character for them!). They died still believing she was either still out there or that crimes against her had gone unpunished. It broke their hearts. The Golds spread rumors that Emma was some kind of slut who ran away with a guy, and the people of Storybrooke overall thought the Swans had gone crazy. So there it is, that's the back story that I just couldn't figure out how to fit in the story, lol.

I'm not mad at the questions, to be clear. I was just surprised by them. I guess I blame the show for ruining these two as parents the last couple of seasons. Maybe that's why everyone jumped on them so fast. I was also honestly worried that ya'll would be upset with me for not addressing the topic, hence this long explanation! No one was rude by any means, so don't go trying to defend me from nonexistent trolls, lol! My feelings have NOT been hurt. I simply wanted to address the questions that were asked and the misplaced anger toward Snowing. (Not anger towards me - but fictional characters!)

Okay, now that I've cleared all THAT up, let's get on with the next chapter, shall we? And I'll go ahead and warn you: this is gonna hurt . . .

Summary: When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead. Killian Jones had heard the old rhyme his entire life. Every child did in Storybrooke, Maine. They heard it whispered in the dark at sleepovers as children; taunted as a challenge as teenagers. Killian never believed it was actually true. Until that fateful night …

Rated M for graphic depictions of violence, abusive relationships, and major character death (I mean, it’s a ghost story ya’ll, people are dead. BUT I promise, there is a happy ending. Trust me? *peeks from around a corner*)

Length: 6 chapters, complete, updated every Friday

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @kmomof4​ @xhookswenchx​ @let-it-raines​ @bethacaciakay​ @tiganasummertree​ @shireness-says​ @stahlop​ @scientificapricot​ @spartanguard​ @welllpthisishappening​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @thislassishooked​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @kday426​ @ekr032-blog-blog​ @lfh1226-linda​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @ohmakemeahercules​ @carpedzem​ @branlovestowrite​ @superchocovian​ @hollyethecurious​ @vvbooklady1256​ @winterbaby89​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​ @jennjenn615​ @snidgetsafan​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @lassluna​ @distant-rose​ @courtorderedcake​ @winterbythesea​ @thesschesthair​ @killian-whump​ @thisonesatellite​ @batana54​ @it-meant-something​ @xsajx​ @therooksshiningknight​ @gingerchangeling​​

Chapter Five: Run

“You’ve got to tell them what you saw - what you’ve learned,” Killian pleaded. 

Graham shook his head, his curly hair falling in his eyes as he stared at the slender hands he clasped in his. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw sported far more facial hair than it normally did, and Killian didn’t have to ask if he’d slept in the past forty-eight hours. 

“They won’t believe me.”

Killian’s jaw clenched in frustration. “But if I saw Emma, and you saw her, then maybe they’ll believe -”

“That Belle saw a ghost push Mike Gaston off the troll bridge? They’ll believe that? Really?” Graham let out a sarcastic, bitter laugh. “You really are just a naive kid if that’s what you're thinking.”

“But you’re a cop!”

“I’m still only nineteen! They’ll think we’re just over-imaginative teenagers.” Graham paused, reaching up with one hand to trace the curve of Belle’s cheek as she slept in her drug-induced prison. “That will land us in rooms just down the hall with our own IV full of an antipsychotic cocktail. How will I help her then?”

“You’ve fallen in love with her.” It wasn’t a question. 

Graham sighed. “How could I not? And how could he -” He broke off, his blue eyes flashing. “I’m not sorry he’s dead. If I’d been there and saw him hurt her -”

“Shh, I wouldn’t say things like that. Not here.”

Killian’s gaze fell to the bruises around Belle’s neck, and he didn’t blame Graham at all. It terrified him to think what could have happened if Emma hadn’t shown up.

“History repeats itself,” he murmured under his breath. 

*************************************************

Killian had scarcely arrived at the bridge when headlights blinded him. He turned away, blinking, stumbling, refusing to be stopped. 

“Emma! Emma!” he shouted. He tripped and dropped his flashlight. It broke as it hit the ground, rolling to the edge of the bridge. Now all he could see was ebony before him and radiant luminescence behind him. 

His palms scraped against the asphalt as Liam hauled him to his feet. His brother gripped his upper arms so tightly it was almost painful, and he gave him a brief shake. 

“You’ve got to stop this!”

Killian fought him. “I have to see her!”

Liam had always been broader than Killian with an unfair advantage in all their childhood tussles. Even now, Killian was no match for him as he lifted him bodily with one arm and hauled him over to his car. 

“You need help!” Liam literally tossed him into the backseat. 

“I’m not going home!” Killian tried to scramble out, but Liam just shoved him back inside. 

“Good, because I’m not taking you home.”

*******************************************************

“Why won’t you be straight with us, kid?”

Killian glared at the detective with a cynical sneer. The psychiatrist on the cop’s left frowned at Killian’s attitude. The choice of words was cruel considering he was in a literal straightjacket. His vision of the two men was obscured by the long strands of dark hair before his eyes. Haircuts were apparently seen as a luxury on the psych ward. 

“I’ve answered all your questions,” Killian finally told them wearily, “you just don’t like what I had to say.”

“Because we want the truth,” the psychiatrist, Dr. Archie Hopper, said gently. He was clearly playing the part of “good cop.” Or “good doctor.” Whatever.

“I told you the truth.”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

Killian snorted a laugh. “Tell that to Mike Gaston.”

The detective’s voice took on a harsh, warning tone. “Mike Gaston was the victim of murder.”

“The victim!” Killian cried, his voice snapping up. “What about the bruises he put on Belle? Or the fact that I nearly died when he tied me to that bridge!”

The detective’s lips curled up in a lewd sneer as he lit a cigarette. “If some horny teenager likes it a bit rough, that’s none of my business.”

Killian fought his bonds, his jaw clenching at the detective’s insinuation. He was as bad as Neal Gold, maybe worse. He had to be pushing fifty at least, and a pot belly strained at his button up shirt. His eyes widened as Killian raged.

“Bothers you though, I see.” He leaned forward. “Nobody blames you for wanting her, kid. Nobody blames you for being jealous. But murder? That’s a different story.”

“I told you I had nothing to do with that!”

The detective glanced at Dr. Hopper, and the soft spoken psychiatrist took over. “Killian, start at the beginning for us. What did Belle say when she called you that night?”

“I’m telling you, she didn’t call me, she didn’t come to my house. I saw her early that afternoon at the library. That was it. Then my brother got a phone call that there had been an accident, and we came to the hospital.”

“You and Belle were at the library together a lot,” Hopper said softly, “what did you two do there?”

Killian rolled his eyes. He hated the patronizing way the man asked the question. “We studied. Did our homework. We were friends.”

The detective snorted again, and Killian wanted to scream. “Drop the act, kid. You really expect us to believe that you spent all that time with her, all that time with a hot chick, and you never fucked her?”

Dr. Hopper recoiled at the foul language, and Killian thought his own jaw might actually break. 

“You’re just as much a misogynistic, narrow-minded, neanderthal as Mike Gaston.”

The detective grinned and slapped Dr. Hopper on the knee. “You were right, shrink, this kid’s smart.” He took another puff of his cigarette as he eyed Killian. “Smart enough to plan an elaborate murder with your knocked-up girlfriend?”

“That’s the most ridiculous - wait - did you say knocked up?”

“Hm,” the detective mused, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his five o’clock shadow. “You didn’t know?”

Killian was horrified when a laugh slipped past his lips. Another bitter laugh followed, then another, until before he knew it, he was shaking with them. He was laughing hysterically while wearing a straightjacket. That thought made him laugh even more, and if he didn’t seem like a lunatic before, he sure as hell did now. 

“What the hell is so funny?” thundered the detective.

Killian’s laughter stopped abruptly and he leveled the man with an intense stare. “History repeating itself. That’s what’s so funny.”

A smile that he knew bordered on manic curled his lips. Yes, history had repeated itself, and this time, Emma Swan had won. 

************************************************************

They didn’t have enough to charge him, or Belle, or anyone else really with Gaston’s murder. It was officially declared an accident, and theoretically, Belle French and Killian Jones were free to move on. 

Killian wouldn’t say it was easy for Belle. She had severe trauma from that terrifying night, and she ended up losing the baby because of it. Nevertheless, she had Dr. Hopper’s patient help, her father’s support, and Graham’s unwavering devotion. Soon, though it would be a long time before she was truly healed, she was able to go home. 

Killian, on the other hand, didn’t really want to go home. For one, he, unlike Belle and Graham, refused to stop talking about Emma - refused to lie and say he made it up. He didn’t fault his friends for it; didn’t take it as a betrayal. He even understood their reasoning when they begged him to do the same and just play along, damn it. He simply couldn’t do it. Emma was too real, too precious. He knew her in a way they never would. He knew the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that go.

The psych ward wasn’t so bad. The drugs numbed him to the point that he sailed on a sea of oblivion half the time. He’d stopped fighting, so there was no more straight jacket, no more bed straps. 

And she came to him. Sometimes the drugs meant he wasn’t lucid enough to really carry on a conversation. On those nights, she curled up next to him on the bed. She ran her fingers through his hair and caressed his cheeks. She pressed kisses to his lips, and sometimes he could respond in kind. 

Other times, though admittedly rare, they would talk. About everything and nothing at all. One night, they talked about their dreams for later, after high school, and suddenly Emma began to weep. 

“I know,” he soothed, brushing her forehead with a kiss, “you fear you can never have that. But maybe we can figure it out. If we somehow get the truth out. About your murder -”

Emma silenced him with a finger to his lips. “That isn’t it, Killian. It’s you. I have no more tomorrows but you can.”

His brow furrowed, and she sighed and soothed the lines away with the pad of her thumb. 

“But not if you keep holding onto me.”

His arms instinctively pulled her closer. “I’ll never let you go.”

She sighed, and sadness filled her eyes. She slipped out of his embrace and rose from the bed. Her skin grew white, her gown floated in an ethereal way at her feet. He frowned and scrambled to a sitting position. 

“I have to say goodbye,” she told him. She said it with an edge of discovery in her voice. Her lips turned up in a soft smile even as a tear slipped down her cheek. 

He shook his head and tried to reach for her, to leave the bed, but he had just enough drugs in his system to make his movements sluggish and ineffectual. 

“I won’t let you see me again.”

“No, Emma, please! I love you!”

“And I love you. That’s why I have to do this.” 

She was already fading away. Killian made a fist and slammed it into his thigh. Tears stung his eyes. 

“Be happy,” she told him, “for me.”

Then she was gone.

#cs ff #captain swan ff #cssns21 #captain swan supernatural summer #ghost story #horror #strange lieutenant duckling #lol trust me #happy ending of sorts

[shijas]

touched-starved megumi slowly being acclimatised to touch really lives rent free in my head.

like, his childhood was pretty all over the place, and he clearly spent middle school getting into fights and straight up brooding, so it’s make sense for touch in megumi’s mind to be associated with strength and violence and pain and vulnerability, the latter two things would especially be hard for megumi to live with i think???? i don’t really know how to explain??? but like we see that uncontrolled vulinerabilty, and leaving yourself vulnerable is like putting yourself on a wanted list for shamans. and so touch, in megumi’s eyes, should only occur with a few specific purposes and those purposes usually weren’t the most pleasant experiences in his mind. i assume people only touched him for: training/sparring, which is literally allocated time when someone can just straight up, inflict harm; someone deciding to fight him out of jealousy or revenge or fear or some sort of negative emotion; and in the worst case scenario people are touching him to heal him because in some capacity he’s weak, he was not strong enough to do whatever he needed to do without injury. i think healing touches, when the touch has to be gentle because fundamentally megumi is already vulunerable and already hurting would sting the most, like emotionally and physically because sometimes touch, even gentle touch, do he hurting tho... (this got long, but for how nobara/yuji break this pattern keep reading!)

and then nobara and yuji arrive and it’s like a hurricane of positive touching. yuji is affectionate!! physical touch is definitely a part of his love languages and so yuji just enjoys giving hugs!! yuji likes high fives!! and fist bumps!! and holding hangs while swinging them in the space between eachother while walking, even though it’s kind of childish. and megumi doesn’t know how to say no to these things, to the boundless enthusiasm that is yuji!! and he also feels a little guilty because he kinda dragged yuji into this world, away from his friends and the familiar comfort/touch he was used too. so megumi doesn’t like, consciously, try to stop any of the touch despite his general aversion. instead he indulges yuji to the best of his ability, because he comes to find that it’s not always bad and he doesn’t really mind; it takes a while to fully like not have a defensive, fight or flight response to the touches and he defo judo flips and sucker punches yuji over and over, because yuji is 1000000% a sneak affection attacker. the closest touch has ever been to ‘nice’ for megumi is probably healing for his stupid amount of serious wounds, and as both an apology and his first steps in reciprocation, megumi applies the gentleness of healing touches he remembers to the injuries he (accidentally??) gives yuji, because all he really about touch that isn’t supposed to hurt is how to rub softly against a spot that will probably bruise, and how to wrap or plaster a cut from a judo flip that led to some scrapes, he’s very good at icing bumps and twists and strains; and so they put themselves back together like that, and yuji keeps up his ‘surprise back hug events’ like they don’t straight up lead to a bruised sternum.

nobara breaks down the ‘touch is violence, touch is pain and pain is bad’-thing even faster than yuji, because she’s lived by her philolosphy as an affectionate puncher, a sweet kicker; she’s defo the type to bite your fingers and pinch your arm, but it’s well and truly out of all the love she cannot contain in her heart (which frustrates her a little bit so she will give you a sharp jab in retribution for feelings). what helps uncross the wires of megumi’s learnt behaviour (or maybe cross them idk) that ‘touch and violence and therefore bad’, is that her teasing and, honestly barely painful, ribbing is always interspersed by the softest of touches that aren’t tinged by the smell of antiseptic, blood or pity. this type of touch gets more frequent the more comfortable they get with eachother (think learning to lean on eachother post yuji death), like nobara will say ‘ew’ while forcing megumi to lay his head in her lap when they’re tryna catch their breath during training, and if his towel is nearby she’ll pat the sweat off his forehead and then complain about said sweat just because she knows he likes listening to her complain about mundane stuff; and she’ll make a million and one spiky sea urchins puns (did you know the japanese word for urchin is uni and linguistically meguni is a hilarious pun that i can see happening in canon) but is the first to rake her fingers through the mess of megumi’s hair, if she noticed he’s tried and hasn’t been taking care of himself. like yeah she throws her pens at him when he tries to help her with their maths homework, but her aim is so scary good it’s funny, and he can always throw them back and she won’t really get any more angry, and so they throw pens at eachother and laugh about it and nobara sketches random patters on to megumi’s skin with the pen she almost used to impale his eye.

anyway the point i’m getting at (probably incomprehensible into this mess of hc and meta) is: yuji and nobara come along, and suddenly, touch isn’t something that burns a little, isn’t something that spooks, isn’t something that requires the tightening of megumi’s jaw and his ribs and his spirit, and of course, sometimes it gets a little overwhelming (WHICH IS OKAY!! TOUCH AS STIMULATION IS OVERHWELMING SOMETIMES AND THATS OKAY AND VALID, EVEN IF YOURE AN AFFECTIONATE OR TOUCHY PERSON!!) and megumi needs to like take a couple of steps back. and they talk about it, because communication is key, and boundaries are healthy things to put in place, and by god the first years will try and build as safe and healthy a relationship between the three of them as they possibly can! and yeah they talk about it, and some days touch is too much for of them and that’s okay, affection, fondness, compassion can be shown in other ways, through other actions and they’ll utilise those a bit more as easily as they utilise touch a bit less, and slowly but surely, megumi becomes a lot less touch-starved and starts to seek it out on his own and initiate it in ways that are comfortable to him, like learning to braid hair so he can play with nobara’s or grabbing yuji’s hand first while their walking or just pressing his thigh into whoever he’s sitting next to in class and that’s fine and that’s good!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and i’m very much attached to this idea.

bonus gojo (as per usual): when megumi became his ward, for obvious, bitter, reasons he wasn’t really tryna like touch. this kid. riling megumi up was easy enough with just words and i feel like firstly, teasing is a part of gojo’s love language in a mirror of how it’s a part of nobara’s (mmmmmmm gojo and nobara parallels are another brain worm that EATS me) and secondly, gojo goes through his own thing with touch, and like affection. as someone whose essentially raised on an absolutely, ridiculous, pedestal and then successfully surpasses even the heights of that pedestal to basically become a living legend AND the whole physical, literal thing with infinity or limitless (or whatever his cursed technique is i’m sorry i didn’t pay attention to the cursed energy explanation any of the times it came up) ANYWAY, so gojo and megumi probably both touch-starved idiots. but, like gojo does care for megumi, like as his student and as this kid he watched grow up, like ofc he does because he’s not a completely useless person. and so he definitely encourages nobara and yuji’s plan to positively reinforce touch in megumi’s brain and slowly, for fear of being straight up bitten, endeavours to extend the casual affection he easily applies to the other two, to megumi too. idrk the logistics of it, but i think it’d be cute for one day gojo putting his hand out to ruffle megumi’s hair, but like not imposing his hand, like it’s just out and about really, and usually megumi nopes or hisses or whatever other gremlin mood he’s decided to incorporate to the finite number of facial expressions he’s willing to make, but today he’s feeling charitable and lets gojo ruffle his hair, kinda like a cat ya know, like leans into it a bit in a very clear you have permission to pet!!!! and gojo’s just jojo sobbing through his blindfold like “oh my god my son loves me” and megumi is regretting not biting him.

#fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen meta #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #itadori yuji #kugisaki nobara #gojo satoru #HMMMM I DO BE PROJECTING THOOOOOOOOO #JAJSJDJJDJDJDJD #like i do be projecting jsjdjdjdj #but yeah guys clearly i have a lot of feelings about being touchstarved and megumi #i the gang just gets really close and comfy and i also think megumi wouldn’t be a good at touch person #some of us like affection and some of us get overstimulated when people keep touching us and we deserve to be represented #lmaoooo i’m really sticking to my plan to saturate the tag huh #i’ll rb this with actual blog archive tags after #ALSO!! people write more nobara megumi friendship please #like they spent months together as the only first years #they have shared trauma from it all #let them bond #healthy f/m friendships please i’m begging you

[evening-starlight]

Chances {Chapter Ten}

I think this is my longest Chapter so far lmao

Master List

Tainted

Word Count: 1867

    I'll be honest with you guys, our first kiss is tainted. This chapter will explain it. I will also mention that this might be hard for some readers to read, so reader discretion is advised.

    I pray for the world to open and swallow me whole right then and there. Of course, he would show up. He has to insert himself into every wonderful thing in my life. He has to plaster his face in every corner of my mind. Tom looks over my head at the man I used to be married to. This is not how I wanted to tell Tom about who it was. I slip my hands out of Tom's and turn around to Jared.

    He smiles wickedly like I've fallen into his trap. The smile sends waves of nausea and anxiety coursing through every vein in my body. "What do you want, Jared?" He hands me a bouquet of flowers. Purple and green daisies. I cross my arms to avoid taking them. "I was thinking of you, so I bought you some flowers." Jared's attention shifts his attention to Tom behind me. "Thank you for dropping my wife off. I really appreciate it." Oh, absolutely the fuck not.

    "Jared," I snap, pushing him away from Tom so we can speak semi-privately. "Why in God's name are you here? I am not your fucking wife. I don't want your damn flowers, which you never bought me when we were together anyways. I don't want you near me." My voice rising with the anger I feel boiling inside me. "You are nothing but a horrible stain on my history that I wish I could erase. You have ruined my life from the moment you walked in with that stupid book. You are the most possessive prick I have met in my life, and I regret every minute I spent with you." Jared continues to smile down at me. He has me right where he wanted me, yelling and spewing venom.

    "I just wanted to show Tom what kind of girl you really are," He says, looking at Tom behind me. "A venomous bitch." My jaw drops to the floor when I realize I walked right into his trap. He pushes the flowers into my chest and grabs my face roughly in his hands. The kiss is forceful and possessive. I feel the bile rising in my throat the longer he keeps his lips pressed to mine.

    Jared finally pulls away, wiping his lips. "I'll see you later, Jules." He walks off like nothing volatile just happened. I have approximately five seconds before I spew popcorn all over the steps. I drop the flowers on the ground and rush to the door, slamming my keys against the sensor pad and hoping it works. The door clicks like a heavenly sign. The gold trash can next to Will's desk is the closest and safest spot for the vomit.

    "Holy shit, Stella. Are you okay?" Will asks, standing up from his desk as I empty my guts into his freshly cleaned bin after falling to my knees. Someone rests their hand on my back before pulling my hair out of my face. I wave them off.

    "Fuck off, Jared." I manage between heaves.

    "It's not Jared." Tom answers. "I want to make sure you're okay, and then I'll leave if you'd prefer." I have no energy to fight as I continue to dry heave, nothing but saliva and air coming out. Will hands me a handful of tissues as I sit back on my heels. I manage a small smile in return as I wipe my mouth.

    "Sorry, Will." I apologize.

    "Don't be. I'd rather it the trashcan than across the floor," Will jokes back. "Let me get you a water from the back." I look at Tom when Will leaves.

    "I'm sorry. Theater popcorn doesn't taste good coming back up." He shakes his head with a small laugh.

    "Don't apologize, Love. He seems like a cock." I chuckle with a nod. "I'm not going to force you to talk about it now, but I would like to understand more about that relationship." I nod. It's a fair request.

     "If you grab those stupid flowers for me, we can head up to my apartment and talk. If you want," I suggest. Tom gets up to grab the flowers as Will comes back with a cold water bottle. I trade Tom the bottle for the flowers, pushing them bud first into the bin I just hurled in. I give Will another apology and tell him I'll get him his favorite bistro next time I'm at the studio.

    Tom follows me back to the elevator silently. I have no idea what to say to him, especially after something like that. What are you supposed to say when you kiss the guy of your dreams, and your abusive ex comes by and forces one on you? Sorry I have a fucked up past I've been conveniently avoiding? I unlock my apartment door and walk in first. "You can sit anywhere. I have to go bleach my mouth." I mumble, making my way to the bathroom.

    I avoid looking at myself as I gargle mouthwash, turning my back to the mirror. I can't believe I let that happen. I should have done something other than stand there like a statue. Why couldn't I do anything other than stand there and let Jared do that? Tom must think I'm a whore.

     The mouthwash is traded out for my toothbrush and toothpaste as I continue replaying what the hell just happened. Jared showing up out of nowhere with flowers after years of saying they're meaningless because they'll just die. And of course, they were purple and green; self-centered prick was probably thinking of himself as he bought the Joker colors. I meet my own eyes in the mirror as I stand straight after spitting the toothpaste out. I have mascara tear streaks running down my cheeks. I've paled considerably enough to enhance the dark circles under my eyes. I look terminally ill.

    I fix my makeup steaks quickly before walking out to the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink?" I ask Tom. "I have beer, Capri Sun, and water, but you'll have to drink out of a shot glass because the two cups I have are dirty." Tom opts for a CapriSun. I hand it to him as I sit on the opposite end of my couch. We sit in silence for a few minutes while I think of how to start talking and how much I want to tell him.

    "Your apartment is quite nice," Tom starts, looking around at all the frames I have of the band and I. "Do you play all those?" He asks, gesturing to my elevated music area by my balcony door. On it is a bass guitar, acoustic and electric guitar, along with a keyboard and violin.

    "Yeah, when my parents heard I wanted to make music because Jared was, they paid for multiple lessons. I fell in love with singing, but I can definitely shred it on bass." I joke. Tom laughs with a slight nod.

    "How old were you when you met Jared again?" Tom asks in such a casual tone it calms me down slightly. Maybe he's just worried about me. Or maybe he just wants to know where Jared went wrong so he won't make the same mistakes, good or bad.

    "I was introduced to him at fourteen." I avoid Tom's sudden worried look by looking at the floor beneath my sneakers. I should get a carpet in here. "My parents wanted to be millionaires, so they moved us all to LA when I was, like, three, I think. I don't know how they met Jared's family. They never told me, and neither did Jared.

    "Everything was really innocent at first. He was my closest friend for years. He helped me with homework and practicing my music. I wanted to be just like him." I let out a bitter laugh. "I was sixteen when I realized I like him as more than a friend. We had to share a bed in a hotel on tour, and I remember not sleeping because he was right there, and he was cuddling me. He asked me out the day of my eighteenth and proposed two months later, married two more after that. We got divorced when I was twenty when I realized how much I really did miss out on life, and he was so possessive he stopped letting me go to band practice without him.

     "The band started pointing it out too. Robbie was the one who literally slapped sense into me. Because why would I hit Robbie back and tell him off, but not Jared? So, yeah. Jared's super possessive and still is." I finish quickly, realizing I was going on a tangent.

    "And he called you Jules?" I almost wished Tom would have forgotten about that. I know it's somewhere on my Wikipedia page, but would Tom have gone that far in learning about me?

    "I've had three legal names in my life," I say, finally bringing myself to look at Tom. He seems concerned, and his eyes are so soft and welcoming I could curl up into his chest right this second. "Juliet Davis is my birth name, and I took Jared's last name when we got married. Then, about a year after our divorce, I decided to rebrand myself and use a new name entirely. Don't ask me why I chose Thompson; I googled it when I was drunk, and it just stuck. Stella is from this one kids' book I was obsessed with for years, Stellaluna. I don't know why, but I carried it everywhere with me until about junior high."

    I guess I didn't notice the tears falling or that my voice was faltering. However, Tom did. Without hesitation, he pulls me into his arms, resting his head on mine. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all that, Love," He says in a soft voice. "You didn't deserve any of that. Thank you for sharing with me." I let him hold me for a while longer. I enjoy his touch, but I really just want to be alone to cry and break shit.

    I don't know when I fell asleep; I just know when I woke up on the couch with a blanket on top of me and water on the coffee table in front of me, that Tom had taken care of me. He left a handwritten note as well, which I still have in my house. It said, 'I didn't want to leave you alone after something like tonight, but I felt it weird to stay the night uninvited. I truly appreciate you sharing something hard with me. I hope it's alright I washed a cup for you, and found some medicine as well, in case the crying caused a headache. Text me when you wake up. Much love, Tom.' Yes, I did run through the house like a crazy lady trying to find the letter so I could write it down verbatim.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #i got 99 problems and tom hiddleston could fix everyone of them #jared leto #Jared Leto imagine #jared leto fanfic #jared leto fanfiction #love #romance #fanfic #fanfiction #fiction #Original content #Oriiginal character #og #oc #Chances

[chappedandfadedvds]

Nov 24th, Tuesday 20:13

„Chug. Chug. Chug. Chug!“

Four pairs of eyes were strictly focused on the little square on the bottom left of their video chat, showing Moyo attempting to empty a whole bottle of beer in one go. While the others watched and laughed and cheered him on. Even Sander had abondoned his work in favor of joining them, as he sat behind Robbe on the bed, watching over his shoulder.

They had just finished their English, Geography and, lo and behold, their Dutch homework, not fifteen minutes ago. Now strongly convinced they deserved a beer to celebrate today’s achievment. So they had stormed off to raid their kitchens and were back within seconds almost. Moyo just shouldn’t have told the group that he could chug his beer completely whenever he wanted to.

Moyo came surprisingly close to finish it. There was just the tiniest bit of beer left, which sadly proofed to be too much, and made the poor boy splutter it all across his desk he sat at. 

Very much to the enjoyment of his four spectators. Who immediately began to toasted each other, taking a large sip of their own bottles respectivly, while Moyo ran off to get anything he could in order to clean the mess on the table.

Everyone was busy joking and teasing their friend, as he wished off the beer, cursing when he found that his phone hadn’t been spared.

„So, mhm guys?“ Jens finally found enough courage to speak up about the one thought that had plagued him all day. He needed to apologise for his absence last week. He had thought he would do it right away, but when they all had appeared as if nothing had happened, he hadn’t been able to bring it up.

„Yeah?“ Aaron asked, a little confused by the sudden mood change, but did put his attention towards the screen.

„What’s up?“ Came the question from Sander, who seemed a little more casual about it. But then he wasn’t actually part of the broerrrs. Or at least he wasn’t with them as long and in chat, to actually be offended by Jens ghosting them.

„So, I wanted to apologise for last week, it was just a lot going on and I didn’t mean to cut you guys off. I don’t want to talk about, yet. I will, I promise. Just need some more time. That’s cool?“

Moyo looked a little unsure with forgiving Jens that quickly, but shrugged anyway in the end.

„Sure, bro. Just let us know when you have a bad day, okay?“ He added with a small smile, that certainly helped Jens to not feel as bad any longer. Maybe Robbe had already talked to them beforehand.

„Yes, definitely. I’m sorry.“

„It’s okay. We are still the broerrrs, right?“ Robbe was an angel, as he rose his bottle to the camera, grinning as waited for the others to follow his example. 

„Hell yeah! Cheers!“ Aaron yelled overly excited. They didn’t needed to be told twice.

„Broerrrs.“ Moyo called to toast emptyhanded.

„Broerrrs.“ The choir of Sander, Robbe, Aaron and Jens chimed in cheery, as each of the boys took a sip.

„Fuck I missed you.“ It definitely was the thruth, now that they actually were simply talking and chilling, being the dumb boys they were supposed to be, Jens could almost forget all the other bullshit his life constantly threw at him.

„You’ve seen us on sunday, man.“ Aaron reminded him of their group chat from only two days ago, as if he somehow had forgotten about that.

„Yeah but, I mean you guys. You know. This.“  Jens threw his arms up, moving them about in some general way to indicate he meant this moment right here.

„Same.“ 

At least Moyo got him. The two boys nodding at each other in a mutual understanding.

„I love you guys.“ Aaron blurted out into the small break of them more or less talking over each other permenantly.

„Dude.“ 

The prompt uncomfortableness that settled in Moyo’s reaction was definitely causing the other three boys to further their display of affection, blowing kisses at Aaron.

„We love you too.“ Sander, Robbe and Jens exclaimed brightly in unison. Aaron was more than happy to reply with a big smile.

„I’m gonna get another beer.“ Moyo interrupted, trying his best to sound annoyed, but instead laughed and shook his head at his friends before he got up and left. Right before the phone next to Jens on his bed lit up. 

His hands were fast to open up the notification. It could only be one person. And Jens was right.

Lucas 20:27:  should be there in 10 minutes.  just got off the train. ❤️

Jens smile widend as he read the message one more time. He sat up a bit straighter on his bed, his fingers busy to type a quick reply.

„Good news?“ Sander inquired. The biggest grin gracing his lips knowingly. Wich made Jens a little worried that he was too obvious. He prayed it was just because the two boys knew about Lucas, because Robbe’s expression was not looking much different from his boyfriend’s right now.

Jens did the only thing he could think off. He flipped them off, like the newly turned adult he was.

„Am I missing something?“ Aaron certainly looked a bit puzzled as much as he seemed curious, wanting to to be let in on the joke.

„When aren’t you?“ Moyo provided casually, as he had returned, now busy to open the bottle and not chug it this time, before he added: „But yeah, what’s up?“

„Nothing. Sander is an ass.“ Jens replied simply, certain that it would get them off his back. He knew his friends. Jokingly insulting each other was their primary activity. Nowadays a little less insensitive than last year. Which was a good change to have gone through.

„Toast to that!“ Robbe was the one to call for his friends to join in, much to Sander’s displeasure. The older boy trying hard to pull an annoyed face in light of the betrayal by his own boyfriend. Yet not quite able to hide his underlying amusement.

It gave Jens a moment to rethink his former dismissal of Aaron’s question. He probably shouldn’t hide Lucas that much. The broerrrs knew the boy. They had spent at least some time together. It was normal right? They were friends. Just also a bit more than that, but he hadn’t to bring that up. Two out of four knew already anyway. It was fine.

„Actually Lucas is coming over. He is alone most of the week, so he is here every once in a while.“ Jens said, not sure if he wanted to regret it immediately. Perhaps he shouldn’t have told them and just bid his goodbye instead.

Jens was very glad he hadn’t, given the following second.

„Oh Robbe, careful! I think Jens is getting a new best friend, now that you left him to suck a dude’s dick.“

Jens was snorting so hard at Moyo’s teasing, that he literally chocked on the beer he just had taken a sip of. This response towards Lucas coming over was glorious and to be honest Jens was pretty much on his way to do the exact same thing to Robbe, so really, they did that to each other. Not that Moyo would actually know that. Jens just couldn’t stop himself from finding it hilarious, even less when he saw the scandalised face Robbe made. 

„Moyo.“ Robbe shouted shocked, gaping at his screen.

„He is not wrong, you know.“ Sander provided confidently, looking way too cheeky, as he wiggled he brows suggestivly at the camera and then at Robbe. His boyfriend not taking any of Sander’s shit and tackling the giggling boy instead out of frame.

„I have never....“ Robbe declared laughing loudly. He broke off midsentence, as he turned back towards his laptop, obviously not sure what point he actually wanted to make in the first place. 

Well he definitely hadn’t sucked Jens’s dick, that was for sure.

The truth didn’t made it less funny. Jens was wheezing at this point through all of the discourse unfolding in front of him. Which was stupid because it shouldn’t be that funny, It had simply been a throwaway line from Moyo. So perhaps it was the easieness of them all being together again, or the influence of the alcohol, or the simple exhaustion from their schoolwork. Maybe even all of the above. 

„Lucas should join us. Get him a beer when he arrives, otherwise he’ll probably run straight back home.“ Aaron deverted the topic. And blessed be he.

„Sure.“ Jens barely was able to get out, while he was busy calming down his breathing between occasional coughs. Sander was back in frame kissing Robbe, leaving a very confused Moyo to watch them.

„You know something else I have here, to make this evening even better?“ 

The voice of Moyo caught everyones attention as he proceeded to pull out some weed from a drawer next to him. Sander was the first to declare his happy approval, as he picked up a jacket from somewhere on his left and proceeded to present the group with a little bag of weed and paper. The older boy loosing no time at all to roll one for Robbe and himself.

Jens smirked nodding at his screen, very pleased with the direction this call took. 

They haden’t smoked together for a couple of weeks now. He almost had forgotten how nice it felt to be high and dumb with his friends, even if it was only over a video chat. So Jens leaned over to grab the little bit weed he had safely stashed away under his bed, holding it triumphant into the camera for the others to see. 
Who all cheered in return, except for Aaron.

„Am I the only one without weed?“ The boy said pouting as he shook his head with a frown.

„Sucks to be you, bro.“ Jens replied nonchalant, knowing that Aaron wouldn’t be too mad anyway. Since he was with Amber he had told them he would smok a lot less. Basically exclusivly at parties. And that was fine with everyone. Jens lit the poorly thrown together joint and leaned back, waiting impatiently for Lucas to ring the bell downstairs.

Any minute now.

__ __ __

tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

#week 5 #wtfock #skam #vds #jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #chapped and faded #broerrrs #plus sander #love these idiots

[vivwrite]

With the Ghost of You(When the Sun Goes Down We All Get Lonely)

Maybe he’s just imagining, maybe its just another fantasy he pictures, but Luke seems semitransparent, a halo casting around his figure, holy, angelic.

“The night was very long but it didn’t seem long to the Snow Man; he stood lost in his own pleasant thoughts, and they froze until they crackled.”

or: Ashton meets Luke in a library, and the story tells itself. (AO3 link👇)

ooookay so my first fic for lashton and 5sos . Thanks for reading it. And tbh I'm extremely nervous because English's not my first language. So sorry for the mistakes lol.

One thing: I read Marquez's work in my first language, and I can't find the English version of it, so I translated the title and first sentence to English. There might be a mistake so sorry again lol

-

Ashton has always loved the library.

It isn't the school library, which is always so grand, demure, solemn, much like a robot- no, too cold and inhuman.

What he prefers, rather, is a smaller one run by a group of retired professors. It seems determined to hide itself in the northeastern corner of the campus, made up of three small but never crowded reading rooms. No matter when he walks through the doors be can find lamps shading yellowish circles on wooden tables, rows and rows of bookshelves up to the ceiling, and seats, beside small windows where the sunlight outside leaks in just perfectly on sunny afternoons.

To him it's always a getaway, a secret hiding place from the stressed and sometimes too fast school life, the only friend he can turn to when he isn't that enthusiastic about life, a comfort when facing another rock bottom. He's already studying a too rational subject; he'd love spending some time being just sensitive in here.

He'd spend hours and hours wandering among the bookshelves, picking one when he feels like it, skimming a few pages before deciding to read on or not. By doing this he feels just like a boy on the beach, amazed by an emerald or sapphire brought on shore by waves from time to time- what matters isn't just the book he gets. It's more of the communicating, the chore he gets to strike.

-

Unsatisfactory experiment result, loads of homework, a long and tiresome discussion with the professor about his research orientation- which he thinks is too early for him to consider, but she insists that as he has already got postgraduate recommendation he needs to consider it fully right now- and Ashton finds himself wandering in the library again, walking aimlessly, not for finding books, just to feel the connection.

It is a strange feeling, really, to be connected with books. Most of them on the shelves just seem to be books as they are, silent, quiet, lifeless. But, well, maybe it’s just his imagination- but some particular ones seem to be staring back- especially that one.

His hand automatically moves to pick that book out of the column.

It is quite delicate, a hard back small enough to be held on one hand, the title shimmering under the dim lights.

Ann’s Diary.

He remembers reading it in his teen years.

“Sorry, but that's mine.”

Ashton springs from the bookshelf. The book slips straight from his hand, hitting the wooden floor with a thud, as a boy rounds up from the other side.

He's tall- even taller than Ashton. And quite young, a freshman or sophomore, maybe. He is staring at Ashton from behind those strands of blonde, messy curls falling off to his face, piercing pale blue eyes met with his hazel ones, and that made his breath hitch for a second- although those eyes are definitely showing dismay.

"I... I don't really understand." He tries his best to cover all the confusion and fear- dealing with strangers always makes him uncomfortable (although he can manage it by acting cheerful and shit), especially with a pissed one.

But the boy seems determined to stay silent and on edge. He just flips the first page open, gesturing to a mark on it.

It's a two-word initial. Must have written quite a long time ago, as the lines are a bit blurry and the ink has faded into light gray. But he still recognizes the word, written in Italic, reading "L.H.".

Wait. The librarians never said that there is a place for personal collections.

Before he can ask about it the boy swirls around and walks off, leaving alone a dumbfounded Ashton.

-

He goes to ask the librarians, then the curator(because the librarians know nothing), about books with a L. H. written on it.

"This is a long story, darling, but it's late." Mrs. Hemmings' voice is collected and calm as always, but Ashton can tell that there is something as her eyes are a bit dull, "Maybe the other day."

-

His favorite spot in the library is a small table tucked behind seven rows of bookshelves of English literature(yes, he counts how many bookshelves are there), just besides a small window. Others rarely find it- unless they're crazy for novels by Adeline Virginia Woolf or they're just too bored to do anything else.

That's why he chooses here- There's no disruption, no noise, only the random shuffle for a person searching for books and pages being turned. Being alone.It suits him.

The sound of a chair pulling broke the silence,ripping him from the novel plot- someone has slipped into the chair opposite of him.

Well, fuck.

Ashton lifts his head from the pages, slight agitation rising from his chest, which shifted to utter surprise as his eyes meet a strangely familiar shade of blue.

Before he could say anything the boy blurts out , "Please... I want to explain."

For a moment Ashton just sits there, staring. Thoughts cloud his mind, tangling messily, laying conflicted- He was so senseless but now he seems so sincere! He won't trust his own voice right now, afraid that something stupid pops up all of a sudden. So he decides to just nod, a silent permit for the stranger to go on.

The boy clears his throat, looking a little nervous, "About the incident yesterday... I'm sorry. Got into something stupid and was shouted at all day long- but, I mean, fuck, even that isn't the reason I became such a jerk to you. I'm not trying to defend myself, but please don't be angry... Oh my fucking god, I don't know what I'm saying." He groans, pushing a hand through his curls, messing it up a bit.

Well, isn't that adorable.

Ashton hears himself chuckling, "I understand, no worries. Everyone has a bad day, don't we?"

He watches as the boy visibly relaxes with the reassuring words, a smile slipping on on his face, "Yeah, I guess. Thanks... Um, what's your name, by the way?"

Oh, right.

"Ashton."

"Thanks, Ashton." the boy's smile widens, "I'm Luke."

So the initial does belong to him. The L. H..

It's not until silence falls that Ashton realizes he may have stared at those sea- blue, sincere eyes for a bit too long. Hastily he ducked his head into his novel, flushed, trying to pick up the stream of Woolf's consciousness again.

"Virginia Woolf?" Luke's voice cuts in, and to Ashton's surprise- filled with pure interest.

Everyone else just thinks he's crazy and nerdy fancying Woolf's works.

"You like her?" He can't help but feel hope lighting up.

"One of my favorite!" Luke's literally buzzing with excitement, like a puppy finally getting some fresh air after a long lockdown in the house, "Never found another person to discuss, though. Everyone just say it's too hard to understand and shits."

And with that their conversation swiftly shifts into a heated discussion about stream of consciousness novels, to Woolf, then Proust, Faulkner, all way up the history, even to Freud- and Ashton finds, surprisingly, that they can strike a chord in every part of it- and the way Luke talks relentlessly, smiling so broad, eyes shining and hands waving- tells him he holds the same feelings, same thought, same passion.

His throat's sore- he hasn't talked that much in like, forever- but that doesn't stop him from being smug like an idiot when he leaves the library.

He's been alone for a long time, But it seems that he has finally found someone.

-

He starts to spend more time in the library- first just to do some more leisure reading and writing stuff there, then he starts bring his textbooks and laptop there to finish his homework, then even starts to stay there as long as he neither has classes nor needs to go back to the dorm. Yes, he admits it's kind of strange one's never tired of a library- especially that he has already ploughed through every part since he first stepped into it- but he knows why- a cute boy with ocean blue eyes and a smile is always there now.

It has become a routine. Luke accompanies him every day, sometimes already halfway through a novel when Ashton arrives, while other times Luke shows up merrily when he’s buried in the middle of projects and homework, bringing in a sense of cool breeze and fresh air before peeking over and ushering him to take a break(well sometimes the work has to be done, but Luke’s so sweet that he can’t refuse). Their time spent together is usually quiet, Ashton either typing away on his laptop or on a book, while Luke is immersed in his own novel, just piping up from time to time to discuss the plot or asking about the author. Topic wanders- books, school life, bands, music (seriously, how many same hobbies do they hold?).

They have went through so many fields- Stream of Consciousness to Science Fiction, Agatha Christie to Akudagawa, Shakespeare's Sonnet to Samuel Ullman's prose, but the list still seems far from ending. To Ashton's surprise Luke have read most of the writers not only by representative works but also less- famous chapters- many of which he only knows but has never read. He had thought he's an English Literature student, but Luke amazed him again by saying he studies Math actually- the same amazement occurred again when Luke discovered the chemistry paper Ashton's working on.

He can’t recall the last time he felt this content -Well, he can’t even remember when he has become so silent and depressed, on edge and under pressure.

But seems Luke has already become the solution.

-

Ashton sighs, recoils back in his chair, takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes- He never learns the lesson of not leaving your homework to the deadline, fuck it.

Besides him Luke rises his head, a slight smile tugging at his lips, "You finally done?"

He just groaned, eyes shut."I wonder how the fuck you can even finish your homework. You never seem to be doing anything related to math."

"Maybe that's because all can be done quickly if I want."

Smug idiot.

"Wait till you're a post graduate and you'll know what's torture."

"Will quit right after four years, then."

Ashton scowls, cracks open one eye and spares a hand to flip Luke off, to which he ducks away (he always does) and giggles, "You're of no fucking help."

"What do you want me to do, then?"

"Don't know. Tell me a story. Or just read something. As long as I'm not thinking my head off about the synthesis route of some stupid fucking molecule I'll be fine."

He heard a light chuckle, "Aye- Aye, Captain, here we go."

The sound of pages turning, Luke clearing his throat, then,"'It's so bitterly cold that my whole body crackles!' Said the Snow Man."

Ashton lifts an eyebrow wearily,"Now you're telling me an Andersen's Fairy Tale?"

"Shh. Shut up and be a good boy. It's my favorite one." then, "This wind can really blow life into you! And how that glaring thing up there glares at me!" He meant the sun; it was just setting..."

Luke reads on, and Ashton finds himself relaxing, sinking into the familiar tale he’s read hundreds of times as a toddler, following the thread of the story, recalling the dialogue, how the Snow Man calls the Old Watchdog “my friend”.

Luke's voice fades for a brief second, then returns, slightly changed, softer, “Then the Snow Man looked, and he really saw a brightly polished thing with a brass stomach and fire glowing from the lower part of it. A very strange feeling swept over the Snow Man...”

Here comes the part- tracing the memory he can still feel it, the confusion when toddler him read to this part, then realization and excitement for no reason when he picked it up again, just for one time, before he come to this city.

He thought a new place brings a new life. That he would finally leave that old black and white town. He thought he knew what life was all about, what love was.

So ambitious, so young, so dumb.

Ashton blinks furiously, shaking the thoughts flooding up away from his mind. He’s here, in his favorite place, with an adorable boy who keeps his company, reading a tale to him. He’s fine, they’re fine, it’s fine.

His eyes lands on Luke.

The small lamp on the table is tilted slightly, soft golden light casting gently down on the boy’s right side, splitting a silhouette, leaving the left side of his face in the shadow. Curls falls off his face, dangling. His long, thick eyelashes turns to an almost-silver color under the light, trembling slightly, dancing altogether with the little particles floating in the air, as those blue eyes, clear as the sunny day but still deep as the sea, moves with each line, each word on the page. Maybe he’s just imagining, maybe its just another fantasy he pictures, but Luke seems semitransparent, a halo casting around his figure, holy, angelic.

“The night was very long but it didn’t seem long to the Snow Man; he stood lost in his own pleasant thoughts, and they froze until they crackled.”

The story’s still going, coming to an end, and Luke’s voice, a little raspy now, is merely above a whisper, like if he tells it any louder the fragile, beautiful tragedy will be destroyed.

“Come out, dear sun! Come often, skies of blue!

And nobody thought any more about the Snow Man.”

And with that Silence falls, a sad love story coming to its end.

For a while they just sits, looking into each others eyes.

The atmosphere’s changed, he knows it, can feel it. It’s a brand new feeling, one he has never felt, the rising urge, the need, the want, to get closer to the boy in front of him, to truly know him, to be with him, go through everything with him, feel the same with him, to like him, love him.

Hesitantly, he reaches out, slowly, hand trembling.

For a moment Luke seems to be on the same page with him, eyes fluttering shut and automatically leaning in, but suddenly he gasps, like being reminded of something he has long forgotten, and recoils back sharply, Ashton’s hand touches nothing but air.

Why.

“It’s late, Ash.” Luke whispered, not looking him in the face, “Maybe the other day.”

-

Something’s changed between them.

Not that the intimacy has changed- no. They still meets at the very table, reading and chatting, Luke still listens to his bickering about homework and fucking lab life- but something’s there, like The Sword of Damocles, hanging dangerously, but both just choose to ignore it.

Luke’s still Luke, sweet and gentle, cute and caring. But he’s somewhat quieter then before- he’s still chatting when it comes to their hobbies, but he always stops abruptly after the topic’s over, cutting the conversation.

It’s only that Ashton’s confused, confused about fucking all of it, confused about why Luke refused his invitation, why Luke takes a step back while he finally decides to step forward. It’s like an invisible barrier is built, all things suddenly turns indefinite without reason.

He hate it. He fucking hate all of it.

It’s only worse that he’s stuck in the library right now- it’s pouring outside, he’s left his umbrella at home, his jacket has no hat, and Luke’s oddly quiet.

He’s reading, more of scanning automatically, mind crowded with uncomfortable thoughts, screaming at him to at least find out what’s wrong with Luke(he don’t know how when they’re in this awkward state), to pluck up his courage and try again(well look what a coward he becomes when it comes to pining), to get this mess sorted (to which he has absolutely no fucking idea).

Fucking shitty day.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed- the sky is darkening, pure black seeping into pale gray, as the window starts to mirror the lighted lamp, making it unable to see the outside.

He hears a sigh, then the sound of book shut.

He can see those clear blue eyes from the corner of his eye, a little dim than usual, like the eyes of a sad puppy, and that almost break his heart. He wants to get close to the boy again, tell him it’s okay, he’s here, no need to keep those shit all alone and stuff- but instead he stares intently at the screen, so hard that his eyes starts to water, cursing himself inwardly.

A pause. Then, “Ash.”

Ashton gives himself a slap in the head, then puts on his most cheery face, “Yeah?”

Luke shakes his head furiously, “Don’t... Don’t act in front of me. I know you’re not well these days, and it’s all because of,” He waves his hand impatiently, then pulls his curls, casting out another deep sigh, “Yes, I... feel there is something I need to explain.”

And again he finds himself lost of words, exactly like the last time Luke made an explanation. But Luke’s acting different- strange. He’s frowning, shifting in his seat, hands tightly clasped together, teeth tugging at his lower lip, eyes filled with... fear.

Luke has never gone frightened in front of him.

“Hey, hey.” He reaches out, trying to grab Luke’s hand, but the boy squealed and pulls away abruptly again- so he just sighs, being as comforting as possible, “It’s okay, Luke. All okay.”

Finally the boy seems to have made the decision. He points to the book he just finished, which is lying on the table now, “The second short story.”

“You’re making me a puzzle through Marquez? Typical.” Ashton picks up the book, checking the writer. He’s trying to make a joke, but it came out weak and not funny at all, as Luke just sighs again and rests his head in his hands.

“I don’t know how to say it, so.” God, he hates how Luke’s voice sounds, all hurt and in pain.

“Luke, I mean, I’m not forcing you, but you know you can tell me everything-” panic’s rising, and he feels the urge, that they’re coming to the crossroads-

“Um, Ashton?”

He’s never hated life- the approaching librarian as well- more than now.

“Yes?”

She comes to stand beside him, a hand on his shoulder, “It’s ten now and we’re closing in five minutes. You need an umbrella?”

“Um, just a minute. We have something to discuss. I promise it’ll be quick.” He gestures to the seat across the table, where he knows Luke’s sitting.

He expects a nod, but her face is puzzled, coated with a layer he can’t read, “We? But Ashton, there’s no one across the table.”

“What?”

His head whips around, so quick that he thinks he must have strained his neck. He closes his eyes, then opens them again- yes, Luke is sitting right there, in the chair, totally frozen besides the nervous act just now- but he’s there.

“But...”

She only shakes her head, “You’re the only one here all day, Ashton. No one else feels like coming on such a stormy weather.”

With that she leaves.

Ashton turns back to Luke frantically, “What the hell-”

He’s met with a stony face and watery blue eyes. Luke seems defeated and in total grief.

“Tell me, Luke. Tell me!” Panic overcomes him, his voice three octaves higher than usual. It can’t be real, it’s just his fantasy, things like this can’t happen in real life...

Luke holds out his trembling hand, and very slowly, reaches over, linking it with Ashton’s.

A wave of icy cold rises up- from his feet up to his spine, overwhelming him, drowning him, making his head dizzy, the world turning, the sense-

The sense of not being touched.

Luke’s hands go straight through his.

“Because they can’t see me.” The silhouette figure whispers, voice barely audible.

“I’m not as real as you see me, Ash.”

-

The next three days come and go like a blurry scene.

Ashton remembers it just vaguely- he remembers fleeing out of the library, running alone the dark campus path till his chest burns and every breath becomes a burden. He remembers the rain, pouring down and hitting him relentlessly, flowing off his face, mixed with some warm fluid he didn’t dare to think about. He remembers walking back to the dorm, all worn out and broken down, throwing himself on his bed and crying till weariness finally came over. He slept, then woke, then ushered himself into sleep again, like only in dreamland he could forget all of it, until he was really not able to sleep anymore.

He pushes himself up from his bed and stumbles into the bathroom, eyeing himself in the mirror. He looks like shit, even worse than a hangover, purple bags hanging from his eyes and hair sticking in all directions. He sighs, turning to walk from the bathroom, cursing as he nearly trips over something on the ground- but the word died halfway in his throat.

It’s that book. The Collection of Marquez’s Short Stories. He must have thrown it on the floor that night.

Ashton swallows, hesitant- he’s not that sure if he’s ready to face it, that memory, that typical boy- but his hand does it for him, already flipping through the pages.

The second work, what is the second work......

He sees the title.

Someone Messed up the Roses.

He takes in a breath.

Today’s Sunday, the rain’s stopped, and I want to pick some red and white roses to my grave...

His eyes is welling up, but he reads on, about the story of a boy’s ghost and his sister, a wish never coming true, a story of love and regret.

There’s a note, written in Italic, at the corner of the page, end of the story, black ink suggesting it’s freshly written.

You have given me the happiest moments my whole life and beyond life, Ash. It might be like a cheesy novel, but I love you and I’m sorry.

Luke Hemmings

He’s crying before he knows it.

“Fuck, Luke.”

-

The scenery outside the window’s changing, fading from concrete jungle to fields and woods. On the end of the road, a hill’s approaching.

He’s sitting in the bus, hand clutching at Marquez’s Collection and a piece of paper- a piece of paper Mrs. Hemmings gave him, showing a route to the place he wants to go.

The vehicle stops and Ashton stands, hopping off the bus, going for the iron door just beside the muddy road.

He pushes it open, the rust on it sticking on his hands, the scent of soil coming up to greet him. As he keeps walking stones appears- delicately carved, yet lifeless.

An oak. That’s what she told him- an oak beside him.

He lifts his head, looking around, and found it- an oak, already tall, rising from the soil, pointing straight to the pale-gray sky.

Uncertainty and fear echoes in the back of his mind, trying to stop him, as he just goes on.

He’s already experienced lost once. He doesn’t want to lose it again.

He stops in front of the oak, hesitates before sitting down, cross- legged.

“I don’t know what to say, Luke.”

He stops, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“A part of me is telling me to forget all this, deny it, wave it off as a dream. It’s all just a fantasy, something I pictured, and I’m supposed to, I should...”

“But, Luke, every minute spent with you is so real.”

“They would say I’m crazy, everyone will; I mean, who would believe a person falling in love with someone already gone- and supposed to be in the state of nonexistence? But... you’re like someone I finally found, a person in this world who could understand me... Who I’ve searched for my whole life.”

He sniffs, blinking away the tears welling up, “You know, during my years alone I’ve learned about not to expect, not to hope; but you... you bring the difference, like a light suddenly cracking in. I mean... if you’re there, if you’re really there... please, just please, give me something to hope, to wish for, and don’t just go away like that.”

“Because I’m so lonely,” He finally let it slip, “So lonely, Luke.”

A soft wind picks up, leaves rustling, like an answer. But as he listens on everything just stays silent, like they’ve always been forever. No silhouette, no soft voice belonging to a boy.

The sky’s getting dark, so he just pushes himself up and leaves.

-

He continues with the life. Attending classes, finishing homework, finally deciding his research orientation. His professor says something about “A big step” and “I know you can do it”, which he just brushes it all off, not truly listen.

He continues to go to the library- but not sitting in that very table anymore, and just stays there for less then an hour each day. He’s read Someone Messed Up the Roses again and again, like all of the other works have suddenly lost their attraction to him.

The pages are all dog-eared and worn out, but he just goes on with it, flipping the pages, ready to read the short story for like the twentieth time.

“I wouldn’t treat a book like that, you know.”

He jumps from his seat, eyes widening, turning around.

Someone turns up from behind the bookshelf.

Messy curls, sea- blue eyes, the lips curling up in a slight smile.

It’s like a dream. He’s in a dream.

Like he can read Ashton’s mind, the blonde walks straight up to him and extends his arms, wrapping him into an embrace.

He feels warmth.

Still no feelings of being touched, the figure still semitransparent, but warmth.

“It’s real. Don’t doubt it.” Luke’s voice is soft, reassuring, barely above a whisper.

Just like he remembers.

The warmth doesn’t fade, like when he’s standing under the afternoon sun, closing his eyes, feeling the hope coming up.

He finally believes it- tears are sliding down his face before he knows it.

“Luke."

#lashton #5sos fic #5sos fanfic #5sos fanfiction #5sosfam #5sos fanart #5sos fandom #5sos slash #first work and I'm nervous as hell

[criminalromantic]

Cornelia Street - Chapter 6 (Billy Russo x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Maybe some things are too good to be true and you have doubts

Word Count: 2195

A/N: okay, this is the longest chapter yet and let me tell you, the fluff ends here, sit down and read in peace, 

Warnings: slight swearing, I think

*******************

“Let’s go for a walk.” You proposed to Billy when he was washing dishes. Your dishes. In your apartment. You knew it was just temporary and according to Billy’s words, he would not let you do anything until you were perfectly fine. 

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“I’m kind of getting cabin fever here, Billy. And I’m pretty sure if I stay here any longer, my cat, who I love very much, will start plotting to kill us both.” Bill snorted and stopped the water before drying his hands and turning to you. When he didn’t protest, you took as silent consent. “Great, it’s a date.” On your way to the bedroom, you could hear Billy’s faint laugh. That man surely laughed a lot in your presence.

You got ready quickly, put a harness on Benjamin, which was slightly complicated. As a cat, he didn’t really have a solid shape. He didn’t try to stop your from putting it on, he just couldn’t stay still long enough for you to strap it on. When you were done, you gave him a treat and a couple of minutes later you put on a leash too. Soon enough you were all standing outside, soaking up the sun and started walking without any particular destination in your mind.

“You know, when I asked you out on a date, this is not exactly what I had in mind,” Billy said as he nervously scratched the back of his neck. You were taking a stroll through Manhattan and just talking and having a good time. Your heart fluttered a little every time you looked at Billy holding Benji’s leash or when he took him into his arms when crossing a road.

“Oh yeah? And what did you have in mind, mister Billy Russo?” You asked in a teasing tone.

“Well, I planned to wine and dine you. Come pick you up, show up at your door with flowers, take to a nice restaurant for dinner and tell you how beautiful you look.” His eyes never left your face as he was saying those things.

“What’s wrong with this? At least the outside is cat-friendly.” You asked with a laugh in your voice that turned into a cough. You were not one hundred percent healthy yet. Your energy was back and your nose was no longer runny, but you were still coughing a little bit every now and then. Billy rushed to your side with worry all over his features. You could see that he hated to see you like this, but there was nothing for him to do. Slowly he wrapped one arm around and rubbed circles on your back until you calmed down.

When it stopped, you continued walking in comfortable silence. Benji loved exploring the outside world, sometimes the leash would tangle between your legs. Sometimes he would meow out of nowhere and you and Billy would have little contests of who can decipher what was on the little cat’s mind. You could never settle who was the winner because you had no way to get the correct answer.

“How did you find Benjamin?” Billy asked out of nowhere.

“I found him when I was in the process of moving here and setting up everything. One time I was carrying boxes and I saw him sitting by the door. He was a kitten at the time and he was in a very bad condition. He was malnourished and was literally screaming for someone to notice him. So I brought him to my place, wrapped him in a fluffy blanket to keep him warm. Later that day I took him to the vet, who told me that he was fine and very lucky because he had no serious problems. He just needed to be taken care of. And I got attached so I kept him. I mean, how could I not get attached, look at him.” You smiled to yourself and watched the cat curiously as he surveyed his surroundings.

“That was very kind of you.” Billy’s look was tender and full of adoration. 

The rest of your walk was uneventful. You suggested buying hot dogs from a hot dog stand when you got hungry. Billy gave you a look that said “I am not eating hot dogs on a date” but you ignored him and made your way over with Benjamin, so he was forced to come with you. 

Billy paid the food and then you started walking back to your apartment. The walk back was quiet. Almost too quiet. It felt like there was something in the air that wasn’t there before. You couldn’t ignore it. At the same time, you felt ridiculous. There was nothing that could possibly be wrong. 

Shortly after you got back to your apartment, Billy left to go to work. You couldn’t stop him, even if you wanted to. He had already spent most of the week taking care of you and you understood that being a CEO was a lot of work. He told you on multiple occasions how much his company meant to him. And so for the first time after three days, it was just you and your cat in your apartment. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. You didn’t feel well enough to go back to work, so you just spent the rest of the day switching between watching lame TV, scrolling through social media on your phone, reading, playing with Benjamin, napping and ordering take-out. Before you went to sleep you sent Billy a quick text.

Hope everything was okay at work.

Seconds later you got a reply.

It was fine. Good night.

The next morning you woke up feeling… good. You made yourself a cup of tea that soothed your throat and you felt ready to go back to work. Like you usually did, you said bye to your cat, walked downstairs and after you made sure that all the flowers were okay and healthy and ready to be sold, you opened the shop. During a free moment, you texted Billy that the shop was open and he could come over if he wanted to. 

After your lunch break, the place was empty and you were wondering when Billy would come by. That was until you saw a familiar face you haven’t seen in a while. It was a little eleven-year-old boy - Aaron, who lived a couple of floors above yours. As soon as you saw him, a wide smile spread across your face. That boy was a sweetheart. When you moved in, he and his mom were the first neighbors to welcome you here, along with the best lasagna you have ever had. From what he told you, you knew that their dad left them, he didn’t even remember him but it was all right. In his words, his mom was a “great dad too”. Three or four times he forgot his keys and had no way to get home because his mom was at work and during those times you would let him wait in the back-room. Usually, he would do his homework and often you would let him play with your cat and make him something to eat too if his mom was working long hours. 

“Hey, little buddy, haven’t seen you in ages. How are you?” 

“Hi, miss Y/N. Could I ask for a favor?” 

“And what would that be, huh?” You asked him and leaned forward closer to his height. One thing that you hated was talking to kids like they were something less than an adult. They were still people, just shorter. Making yourself feel superior to children was really not something you enjoyed, so whenever you were talking to a kid, you made sure to get to their level. 

“I got a bad grade at school today. And my mom is working really hard these days. I want to buy her a pretty flower, because I don’t want her to be mad at me and because I love her.” You already knew what he was going to ask. He had done this a few times before and it always made your day a little brighter. The boy put a few crumpled one-dollar bills on the counter as you made your way over to the shelves with different flowers and picked out three tulips. You already knew what his order was going to be, tulips were his mom's favorite flowers.

You tied a cute little ribbon around the flowers before you handed them to the boy. Then you proceeded to put the money in the cash register, expecting him to leave, but he didn’t. 

“Miss Y/N?” His tone changed from happy and cheerful to skittish and you had no idea why.

“Yes?” 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” The question came out of nowhere and you choked a little on your saliva. Not only because of the question, but also because you had no idea how to answer. You and Billy never had that conversation. In fact, the past three days were the longest you had ever spent together. 

“Why are you asking, buddy?” You were curious like never before.

“ Is his name Billy? My mom saw him from the window and told me she recognized him from work or something like that.” You were very thankful that your shop was empty at that time. Even if someone walked in, they probably wouldn’t get any attention from you.

“Okay, and did she say something else?” 

“She just told me that he is a bad man and everyone should stay away from him.” You knew about his reputation, just like probably everyone in New York. But you didn’t think about it much, after all, he never made you feel like just wanted to sleep with you and he himself said that some of the things he heard about himself sometimes were a straight-up ridiculous fabrication. “I didn’t tell my mom that yesterday when I got home from school, I saw you two with Benjamin.” You smiled a little at the memory and continued listening. “In the evening we went shopping and when we were walking to the car I saw him at a restaurant with some woman.” You were never punched in the gut, but hearing this damn felt like it. Somehow you managed to keep your exterior calm and collected, not wanting to break down in front of a little kid.

“Thank you, Aaron, for telling me. You have no idea how much that means to me.” Surely he had an idea because he gave you a sympathetic look. “Now go home, I’m sure you have a lot of homework to do.”

Once the boy was out of your sight, you took a few deep breaths. So, Billy was seeing someone else. At the thought of having him at your home, you felt nauseous. And stupid. Of course that he would not be… interested in you. What could you possibly have that he would be interested in? 

The rational part of your brain was telling you that you weren’t exclusive. You never talked about that. You went on one date and that wasn’t in any way binding. However, your emotional part was the louder one. Much, much louder. You went on a date. It wasn’t showy but it was lovely and you both had a great time. Well, you had a great time. Maybe Billy didn’t. Maybe to Billy, this was just a game all along and he was just testing how long before he got you to sleep with him. Or maybe he got bored of you and changed his mind. In the back of your mind, you expected something like this to happen. The whole thing was too good to be true. There was no reason for him to like someone like you. He was supposed to be with someone from his own circle. Not some lame girl who runs a flower shop and has a cat. The fact that he lied to you was definitely the highlight of it all. 

The rest of the day was monotonous. Each time someone walked in you sighed in relief because that meant that you didn’t have the time to be alone with your thoughts. That made you a bit more attentive towards your customers than you usually were. Billy never showed up. At the end of the day, you were happy with yourself and your ability to hold yourself together. 

The moment you walked into your apartment, a single tear rolled down your cheek. You could hear Benjamin scurry to you and soon he was curled up next to you, one of his front paws on your hand in a comforting manner.

“I guess we were wrong, buddy.” You said to him softly. “Wanna eat dinner with me?” Your cat meowed excitedly and headed towards your kitchen.

Before you went to bed you checked your phone for the first time in a few hours and saw a text from Billy.

Sorry, can’t stop by today. Have a good day.

You ignored the message and fiddled with your phone a few minutes before you fell asleep.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #ben barnes #the punisher #billy russo imagine #billy russo cornelia street #cornelia street #billy russo flower shop

[peppersbian]

March 23 2021

I missed my daily thing on habitica for this so it like says I lost my streak which is bullshit and kinda annoys me but whatever. It's not technically all about points but it makes me feel better and I dislike that they did that to me. Scoff.

I had a pretty busy day today. I feel really good about myself.

I got through my English class and did the work I was assigned for the asynchronous time done during that time. I feel really good about that because I usually swerve and mess it up.

I made myself eggs and sausage for breakfast just before needing to sit down for math.

I was kinda unfocused during math, because I was working on the Open house presentation. So at least it wasn't time too badly wasted. I did my math homework due at 4 complete and on time! I feel so great about that. I feel good that I learned how to use the TI84, but also kinda embarrassed that it took me this long to sit down and fucking do that. But whatever.

Mom brought a pizza for late lunch/early dinner.

I went w mom to pick up some of the buy nothing stuff she got. I got some styrofoam balls which I will be sure to have fun with.

I got the PowerPoint done just in time for them meeting. I was a few minutes late for it but they hadn't really started anywys like they usually do. It went really well, I need to do some last polishes and I'll be great to go for the open house.

I don't think I'm going to go to the open house. It's sounds boring and I'm tired and also need to cram my English thing tomorrow. I feel bad though because I feel like I'm neglecting all my other classes by honing on one. I get too tired to do more than one thing a day.

Honestly all I could think about at the meeting was how I feel like I've never had any real connection or friendship with literally anyone in the troop. That I'm just a tack on to everything else. I thought about Nicole and the summer trip and how she made it so tiring and impossible to get around and be with other people and even making us late because she wanted to go to every fucking phone case stand. I feel bad for feeling that way because she's disabled or whatever but I can't help but feel like I got out with her because no one else wanted me and certainly no one else tolerates her. I though about catalina and how when I asked her at boating if she wanted to be partners, said "potentially", walked alway from em and talked to like three other people. One group was a group of three and I was all alone. It was humiliating. The lifeguard pittied me. I hate that. I love legend but it so tiring. It's just like a reminder I'm never wanted, cared about, or fit in. As much as the idea of sisterhood and community is preached it's never truly practiced. I wish it was though,

Gibson is so sweet. She seems so passionate and excited. I hope she gets the best from us. I feel bad that her freshmen year is being spent like this. She said she felt bad for me but honestly my times already been wasted so there's no real use in feeling bad about whats actively being taken. Loss is loss. I hope she never has to feel like me.

I'm tearing up again. These journals are hard. Today was a good day and I feel kinda silly for hanging up on these one or two bad things but that also stupid, it's good to feel. Human range of emotion and experiences or whatever. Sigh. Wish it was more convient.

I like Bojack horseman video essays. I can watch that shit forever. I watched a good one bout mr peanut butter and his defining trait being addicted to unconditional unwavering affection. I don't think I'm like that to the degree he is. I have at least some concept of boundaries and that people find joy and intert from different things. But I kinda felt that. Need to be needed. Except not really because that's not the same thing. Need to be swaddled and hugged and attended to, emotionally.

I had a vision of my future. Always being in a relationship even if it's not super great just because I want someone to love me or at least claim too in some capacity.

I know my friends love me and I them, But that's not the way that I mean or want. Sigh. I do love them though.

I ate the leftover from pizza lunch for dinner. Cold pizza rocks.

Today was a good day. I really need to make more art and work on studio. Im anxious about grades and shit it's really a bad underlying stress I can't get over. I haven't checked my grades at all and it feels a little suffocating lol. It is what it is though. After this weeek it's spring break which I desperately need.

I hope to work on miku, I'm gonna place my jo Ann's order so hopefully I can get my lace and my leather paint. Super excited. I keep bouncing around from projects, I have a lot of motivation but no time. It's frustrating. Just a Girlboss living in a Gatekeep world I guess.

I've been feeling kind a guilt about Mel. I haven't checked my message requests in so long. It's kinda og just become a part of the system, and since it's not a notification to be cleared it's been easy to not make it bug me. She's 23. I knew that but it only really kinda occurred to me. That's like 6 years. I wish she knew some fucking boundaries. Maybe if someone removed you as a follower twice, blocks you, and doesn't respond to your messages you should let it be. I feel bad for doing this and not just saying it outright but I'm scared of hurting her feelings with words. Like actions are much better. But I hate interacting with her. She has done nothing wrong or innapropriate I'm just annoyed by her. She's annoying. It makes me uncomfortable. I don't like engaging with her. It feels good to say that straight and honestly and not w a fucking feeling cushion or smthn. I keep dancing around my words like this isn't my private journal jfc. Anywyss I wish she'd go away. I feel bad about having to like take action to block her or whatever. I'm not gonna tonight. But I should. Guilty consciousness though won't go. I know I should vocalize smth but I just really don't want to. And I think I'm allowed to do that.

I feel bad for saying she's annoying and I hate interacting w her Anf her incomprehensible speech because she's disabled. Why do so many disabled people try and be my friend? It's nothing against them. It's just a trend I've noticed where I'm sweet and then can't set boundaries because I feel guilty about not letting them do what the want. Sigh. I don't think there's really a way to win at that. I don't think it's ableist to say that some neurodivergent behaviors are annoying and boundary breaking and I don't want to engage w that specifc behavior. I don't.

I wonder how many words this was.

[ghostsray]

@wastefulreverie helped me write a fic (i wrote the story, and she edited my shitty writing into something good) based on a prompt @dannyphantomisameme came up with in the pbs server

basic summary: wes gets captured by the giw (TW: implied vivisection)

word count: 4591

___

By Danny’s standards, it was a normal day. And by ‘normal’ that entailed battling a large, snarling ghost wolf in the middle of Amity Park Park. But it was fine. After a year of experience, he was getting good at these daily fights, and the wolf provided no challenge for him. He captured the ghost with little difficulty, and the bystanders who were watching erupted into cheers. Well, most of them anyway.

“Fenton!”

At the exclamation, Danny reflexively turned his head. Realizing his mistake, he immediately regretted his decision. Wes Weston, smug as always, was standing behind him. Wes turned to the crowd and pointed out, “See? He responded to his name. He’s Fenton!”

For a split second Danny worried that they might listen to him, but fortunately, his worries seemed to be pointless. On cue, the crowd groaned and collectively rolled their eyes. Paulina put her hands on her hips. “Really, Wes?” She spoke with enough expertise to deny his claim since she always watched Phantom’s battles.

With wide eyes, Wes sputtered, “But—come on, that was solid proof!”

“Right,” Paulina dragged out. “Just because he happened to turn his head in your general direction when you happened to say a name that happened to be Danny Fenton’s last name.”

The fury on Wes’s face was almost comical. He gestured again at Danny and yelled, “He literally looks the same!”

A mischievous smile crawled onto Danny’s face. His voice carried a mocking tone when he spoke, “Gee, Wes, I don’t know.” Floating closer to the boy, he placed a hand under his chin and pretended to inspect the red-headed teen. “I mean, you look kinda similar to me, too.”

Dash laughed, lightly elbowing Paulina. When it came to watching Phantom’s fights, he did his best to accompany her. “I bet Wes is Phantom, and he’s just trying to frame Danny to keep his secret!” the jock conceived.

The steam out of Wes’s ears was nearly visible. “Seriously?” he seethed. He held out his arms Will Smith-style toward Danny and shouted, “How can I be Phantom if he’s right here?!”

“Duplication, duh,” Sam suggested. She and Tucker had been observing the entire exchange, straining to stifle their laughter.

Wes growled and grabbed a fistful of his hair. “Whatever, I’m leaving!” he decided. He fled from the park, ignoring the snickers from the crowd.

Phantom gave one last heroic wave to his audience before he vanished from the visible spectrum. A few feet away, no one noticed the flash of light behind a nearby tree, nor when Danny Fenton stepped out beside it. He joined his friends and watched the crowd disperse.

Once they were out of earshot, Sam was the first to speak. “Do you ever feel bad, bullying Wes like that?” she asked. The three friends met eyes for a moment. Breaking the tension, they all burst into laughter.

“As if,” Tucker choked. “That guy deserves it.”

Swallowing his laughter, Danny straightened himself. “Anyway, I’m sure Wes will be fine,” he pointed out. It’s not like Wes was in danger or anything, he was just… a jerk. Danny wouldn’t joke about it if it was actually serious. As it stood, the worst thing that came out of Wes’s wild accusations was some mockery from his classmates.

Danny grinned, kicking his shoes against the sidewalk. “So,” he gestured to his left, “Nasty Burger?”

Sam and Tucker murmured in agreement and the trio finally exited the park. On their way to the restaurant, they passed a bulky white van, but none of them thought much of it. It was just a white van; it wasn’t peculiar or anything.

The next day, Wes didn’t come to school.

Nobody really cared. Wes was known to cut class everyone now and then. Since adopting his obsession with Danny, he spent so many nights plotting Danny’s grand exposure that he either overslept or simply forgot about school.

Everyone simultaneously decided to enjoy this Wes-free time; any break from having his conspiracy theories shoved down their throats was welcome. Tucker even joked that this was like a vacation for them. The day passed, and Wes remained absent, but nobody thought much about it. People missed school all the time! He must have gotten sick or something.

With all his other problems, Danny easily put Wes out of his mind… until later that night. He’d finally managed to find some time to do homework (for once) when Jazz inevitably interrupted his study-time. She entered his room with a knock and held out a phone, gesturing for him to take it.

“Someone wants to speak with you,” she told him. Danny furrowed his brows. The only people that ever called him were Sam and Tucker... and they only called his cellphone.

He spun his desk chair around and accepted the phone. Before putting it to his ear, he asked Jazz, “Who is it?”

Jazz shrugged. “Some adult. He says his son is your friend.”

The only person Danny could think of was Tucker’s dad (Sam’s dad would be caught dead before talking to him). So why would Tucker’s dad be calling him? Doing little to filter his confusion, Danny raised the phone to his ear and answered it. He was taken aback when he realized that he wasn’t talking to Maurice Foley; it was Walter Weston—Wes’s dad.

“Hi, uh,” Walter started, “have you talked to Wes today?”

Danny thoughtlessly shook his head, then realized Walter couldn’t see him. “No?” Danny replied apprehensively. “He didn’t come to school today. Why?”

He heard rustling on Walter’s end of the call and assumed that he was pacing back and forth. “He’s not home. I haven’t seen him… not since yesterday. Out of everyone, I thought you might know something since he’s…”

“Obsessed with me?” Danny completed.

Walter hesitated, “… yeah.”

And suddenly, despite not caring about Wes, Danny was worried. Wes wasn’t the type to run from anything, especially away from home. And if he’s been missing since yesterday, then it was logical to believe that something must have happened….

But Danny didn’t have the faintest idea where Wes might be. He bit his lip and told Walter, “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything.”

Walter sighed, obviously disappointed. “That’s fine. Just… call me if you see him.”

The line was hung, and Danny tried to go back to his homework, but he found it hard to concentrate. He tried telling himself that Wes was fine, and that he probably slept over at some fellow conspiracy theorist’s place or something. Still, that night when he patrolled the city for ghosts, he made sure to keep his eyes out for any red-haired teen. He didn’t find Wes.

The next day, Wes was still absent. Like before, everyone else at school didn’t mind. Heck, nobody really even noticed. Those who had picked up on Wes’s disappearance had decided that he was sick and was spending his days at home. But Danny knew that wasn’t the case—not after his phone call with Walter.

“So you think Wes is missing?” Sam asked. They were sitting at their usual table in the cafeteria. He couldn’t hold it in anymore and had told her and Tucker about Walter’s call.

“He hasn’t been home for almost two days now. What else could it be?” Danny replied and ran a hand through his hair.

“Maybe he…” Tucker paused, trying to think of a good reason for Wes to spend two days away from home. He came up dry. “Okay, fine, maybe it’s a little concerning.”

Danny picked at his nails anxiously. “What if something bad happened to him because of me?”

Sam crossed her arms. “You mean because he chose to spend his time trying to expose you?” she pointed out with a defensive tone.

“Well, yeah…” Danny amended, “but I still feel kind of responsible.” He stared straight ahead, looking between the A-List and geek tables. “Remember that time he followed Skulker into the Ghost Zone to go after me?”

“You think Wes might be in the Ghost Zone?” Tucker wondered.

Danny shrugged. “It’s possible. Otherwise, someone would’ve found him already.”

“So… what?” Sam figured. “You’re gonna search the entire Zone for him?”

Danny seemed to deflate, but then he perked back up as an idea came to him. “Maybe I don’t need to scour the entire Ghost Zone….”

Hours later, after school was over, Danny made his way to the Far Frozen. He found Frostbite inside one of their grand caves and pulled him aside for a favor. Frostbite bristled hesitantly.  “I am not so sure,” he expressed. “The last time I lent you the Infi-Map…”

“It won’t be like last time,” Danny assured him. “I promise. It’s just to find my friend.”

The frost giant pondered a while longer, but he eventually acquiesced. “Very well,” he said. He strode to the center of the cave and stopped in front of a floating chest encased in pale blue light. He unlocked the chest with a shard of ice and pulled out a golden scroll. Carefully, he handed it to Danny.

Danny nodded and thanked the yeti ghost. “I promise I won’t lose it this time,” he assured. With a sound resolution, he held the map a few feet from his face and declared, “Take me to Wes.” For a moment, nothing happened, and he wondered if he had been too vague; but then the map lurched, and Danny’s world spun as it pulled him out of the cave. The Ghost Zone passed in a whirl of green and purple before he was finally led straight to a newly formed natural portal.

Danny wasn’t exactly sure where he expected to land, but it certainly wasn’t here. As soon as he fell through the portal, he was greeted with the distinct scent of antiseptics and concentrated ectoplasm. It reminded him of his parents’ lab, but there was something else here… some sort of coppery smell? Danny glanced around and realized that this was a laboratory. But why would Wes be here? he wondered.

He inspected his surroundings more and found that there were tables with beakers, microscopes, and other standard lab equipment. Metal shelves lined the wall, containing what looked like… ecto-weapons? And in the center of the room...

Danny’s stomach did a sickening flip. He felt like he had just floated upside down at two-hundred miles per hour, but his feet were placed firmly on the linoleum floor. Danny fought his nausea and forced himself to keep looking at the ghastly sight.

In the center of the room was a metal table with leather straps, like some sort of demented operating table. It was long enough for a human to be laid on, at least six feet long. And in the dim light of the room, Danny could perceive the sheen of dark, crimson blood. So, so much blood.

Danny practically clasped his hands over his mouth to keep himself from crying out, an alarmed scream halfway up his throat. His stomach lurched again, and this time he was aware that he might… might throw up. Oh Ancients, not good not good not g—

He was subtly rocking back and forth to ease his stomach, to refrain from vomiting. The soft motion helped a bit with his nausea, but did little to soothe his abject terror. And suddenly, he was aware of nearby voices—both male—speaking nearby. To preserve his presence, he quickly turned himself invisible to avoid being caught.

He realized a moment later that the voices were coming from an adjacent room.

“Are you sure?” asked one of the men.

“The evidence is indisputable,” replied the other. “He’s a living human. One hundred percent organic matter, beating heart, lungs, brain—he only has trace ectoplasmic contamination, normal for Amity residents.”

The first man cursed. “So we got the wrong guy.”

Danny hadn’t even realized that he was subconsciously backing away from the voices until he bumped into a metal table. The force of the impact toppled an empty beaker over the edge, breaking it into innumerable shards.

The voices lulled. Then he heard footsteps approaching the door. Danny panicked and turned himself intangible, shooting through the opposite wall and landing in a new room. He realized too late that he had accidentally dropped his invisibility along with his intangibility when a weak voice prompted his attention.

“Danny?”

He instinctively turned to face whoever spoke his name and froze. It was like a vacuum had sucked all the air out of the room, leaving Danny’s lungs empty. In front of him was a shimmering, green barrier—most likely a ghost shield—and behind that transparent wall was… “Wes?”

Admittedly, Danny didn’t even recognize him at first glance. His usually tidy hair was mussed in every direction, dull and greasy. His cheeks were prominently sunken, like he hadn’t eaten in a long time. Not to mention, his bloodshot eyes were weary and tired, emphasized by the dark bags hung under his eyelids. Fresh bruises were peppered across his skin, mottling his skin in hues of blue and purple.

“What—” Danny’s tongue felt like it was tied in a knot, crossed over itself multiple times. “What happ—why—” He struggled to comprehend why Wes was like this, who had done this. Danny stepped close to the ghost shield separating them and pressed his hand against it, trying to move it through the barrier, but it was rock-solid.

Wes’s lips curled into a perturbing smile. His eyes were humorless, chilling. “Why?” Wes’s voice cracked. He sounded dehydrated, broken… Danny doubted he had drunk anything all day, or… maybe he had spent all day screaming. His green eyes misted over and met Danny’s own terrified, neon stare. “They thought I was you.”

His words hit Danny like a hard blow.

The joke that Wes was Phantom had existed for a long time, long before Wes was set on exposing Danny. But that was all it was—a joke. To think that someone genuinely would believe it….

It was then that Danny noticed the bandages wrapped around Wes’s bare chest. At some point, they had stripped his shirt, which allowed Danny a good look at all the new scars gracing Wes’s torso. The white gauze of his bandages was stained with fresh blood, and Danny was instantly reminded of all the blood he had seen on the operation table. Once again, his stomach plummeted—and so did he. Danny dropped to his knees and scoured his gaze across all of Wes’s injuries (that were his fault).

In his peripheral vision, Danny saw his own hand shaking from where it was still pressed against the shield. He considered turning human so he could pull Wes out, but Wes read his train of thought. “Don’t bother transforming,” he informed. “The shield works for both ghosts and humans—you can’t do anything.”

Danny’s eyes darted back to Wes. His chest crumpled at how broken his classmate looked. Wes didn’t deserve to be in this situation. As annoying as he was, he should never have been mistaken for Danny. Despite his helplessness, Danny’s core throbbed with dedication. “I’ll get you out,” he promised.

For a moment, Danny thought he saw a glimmer of hope in Wes’s eyes, a small light in the abyss of dull misery. But it was short-lived. The footsteps—the men from the other room!—returned. Danny whipped around to find a group of white-clad men holding ecto-rifles. Guys in White agents. Of course, how could he have been so blind? The Guys in White were the only organization inept enough to truly mistake Wes for Phantom, ignorant government cronies.

Danny didn’t have time to prepare when they raised their weapons, aiming to fire. Blasts assaulted him from every direction and Danny did his best to fight them off, using the ghost shield behind him to his advantage—unlike a regular wall, the shield would deflect all of their blasts back at them. However, no matter how hard he tried, he knew that it was useless; Danny was outnumbered, and he wouldn’t last forever. It was impossible to defeat them all and break Wes out of the shield before the next round of agents.

In the end, he was pinned under a ghost-proof net, bleeding in about three different places. An agent, a man with cold eyes and calloused hands, stood over him with a lopsided grin. “Looks like capturing the human wasn’t useless, after all,” he said. He placed a foot over Danny’s crouching form. “We got the ghost boy.”

Danny gritted his teeth. He was out of options, and at this point, he wouldn’t be able to escape with Wes. Sure, he still had the map, but he couldn’t just leave him behind… left at the GiW’s mercy...

But what choice did he have?

Danny glanced sideways and met Wes’s desperate stare. Guilt and defeat wracked his conscience and Danny clenched his fists. He didn’t want to… everything in him screamed not to do it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Wes’s eyes widened. “What?”

Danny held the map in front of him, ignoring the agents’ curiosity and Wes’s gasp of realization. The red-headed boy crawled toward the shield’s wall, trembling as he fought tremors of pain, “No, no, don’t leave me—”

“Take me back,” Danny told the map, firmly holding onto the scroll. The GiW agent standing over him stumbled backward when Danny was pulled out from under the net. As he was whisked away, he heard one last desperate cry from Wes. And then, he was swallowed by a portal to the Ghost Zone, and everything vanished into green.

It was a matter of seconds before he was pulled onto a floating rock and collapsed on his knees. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that the portal he’d been pulled through had closed itself, meaning the GiW wouldn’t be able to follow him. Even though he knew that he was safe now, he couldn’t seem to calm himself down. His breath was still erratic and his hands—dang hands—wouldn’t stop shaking.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Wes and all the scars that had been marked across his pale body, followed by the image of that bloody table. Bile rose in his throat and he haphazardly swallowed it, forcing it down. If what he thinks happened did happen, then….

One of Danny’s biggest fears that he never spoke about, not even to Sam or Tucker, was the fear of being dissected. After all, he was threatened with it enough that it was a probable situation. His biology was rare; obviously getting him on a lab table was any scientist’s dream. His parents rambled on and on about dissecting ghosts that he dreamt about it too—being strapped to an examination table, crowded by scientists, sterilized scalpels digging into his skin. And in every nightmare, he was always the one staring into the eyes of the scientists, on the receiving end of their knives. Not Wes. It was never meant to be Wes.

He clenched his fists. It was never meant to be Wes. This was never supposed to happen, so Danny would make sure it never would… couldn’t… happen.

He made up his mind, stood from his rock, and propelled himself into the air. He knew the way to Clockwork’s lair like the back of his hand and was there in minutes.

“No,” Clockwork refused, upon his arrival.

Danny wasn’t surprised, but that didn’t make him any more content with Clockwork’s answer. “I know you saw what happened to Wes,” he pressed. “They… they thought he was me. It’s wrong. He shouldn’t have been captured.”

Clockwork’s red eyes studied Danny as he shifted into a child, unchanging. “So you’d rather they capture you, instead?”

Danny hesitated. Worst fear or not, Wes didn’t deserve what they had done to him. The images were burned into his eyelids: Wes’s body mottled with half-healing scars, curled up in a heap on the floor, and the sinister curl of the GiW agent’s lips…. He met Clockwork’s eyes with a determined stare. “Yes.”

Clockwork’s sharp gaze softened, shifting into an old man. “I’m sorry,” he stated, “I can’t help you.”

Danny clenched his fists. “So you’re just going to leave him there?” he accused, more desperate than angry.

“Of course not,” Clockwork replied with a staid frown. “He’s going to be released whether I interfere or not.”

Danny blinked in surprise. “Really?” he asked. Clockwork nodded and shifted into a young adult.

“The GiW have seen that he’s not a ghost. They’ll be sending him home by next morning.”

Instantly, Danny felt slightly relieved, but Clockwork’s news didn’t ease all his troubles. He believed the time ghost, seeing as he had no reason to lie. Still, he couldn’t help remember the blood across the table, slick and pooled across the metal surface. Wes’s dark bandages and his abject desperation when Danny left him alone with the agents. Even as a ghost, he found himself shiver. “He won’t be the same,” he realized, quietly.

Clockwork leaned against his staff and turned to look at the circular time window next to them. Danny couldn’t see anything but a swirling green vortex, but Clockwork seemed to discern something in the window. “He’ll heal with time,” he said, watching the swirling green window, knowingly. “You go home. I promise you will meet Wes tomorrow.”

Everything in Danny wanted to argue, to protest that he wanted to speak to Wes now. That he wanted Wes to be okay now, but he knew that it would be useless against the master of time. Reluctantly, he flew from Clockwork’s lair and (after returning the Infi-Map to Frostbite) returned to the human world through the Fenton Portal.

No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t sleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he was revisited by graphic images of Wes being tortured, tools of all sorts ripping him open, searching for evidence that he was Phantom—looking for something that only Danny had. He saw Wes pressed against the floor, clutching his bandages, and shaking as he bled. He twisted and turned until finally he couldn’t ignore the sunlight breaking through his curtains.

Normally, Danny flew to school, but something compelled him to walk today. Since it was earlier than usual and Sam and Tucker probably weren’t awake yet, he figured he’d walk alone. His body moved on autopilot, his legs carrying him mechanically to the direction of Casper High.

At least, he thought it was the direction of Casper High. He managed to deceive himself for a while until finally he looked up and found himself standing in front of Wes’s apartment building.

And there, sitting on the doorstep, was Wes.

Danny inhaled sharply. That action must have alerted Wes to his presence because seconds later the broken red-head lifted his head to meet Danny’s eyes. Danny lost himself in the emptiness of Wes’s eyes and realized that they looked just as tired as they had in the GiW facility.

“You’re okay,” Danny managed to say. Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. After what he figured had happened to Wes, he was certain that he could never be okay. Who could?

Wes must have been thinking the same thing, but he kept his silence. His demeanor darkened and he growled, “No thanks to you.”

Danny gulped. “I’m sorry,” he expressed. His apology was heartfelt, but it did little to express his desire that none of this should have happened. He moved closer to Wes, who kept his posture still and guarded. “I didn’t want to leave you behind, but there was nothing I could do, and…” he trailed off and bit his lip. What could he possibly say to make up for leaving him? For any of this screwed up situation? He didn’t know, he couldn’t think. Staying up all night had stolen any coherent apology he might have been able to scrounge up. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, softly.

Wes’s eyes were glued to him, yet dark and unreadable. “Sorry for not trying harder, or for getting me into this mess in the first place?” he ground out.

Danny winced. “I—I never meant to… but you know I had to keep my identity a secret.”

“So you’re glad they caught me instead of you?”

Danny’s eyes widened. “No! Of course not—”

Wes cut him off by standing up. Danny didn’t miss the way that he winced when he moved, pulling himself to his feet. This time when Wes looked into Danny’s eyes, he didn’t mask his pain—Danny could sense his unfiltered agony and cringed.

“I told them I wasn’t a ghost,” Wes began, “but they didn’t believe me. Even after they ran all their tests, they thought I must be hiding my ghostliness in some way,” he emphasized bitterly. “So they…” A lump formed in Wes’s throat, and he turned his gaze to the sidewalk, letting his eyes roam across the sparkly concrete. He took a shaky breath, one so soft that Danny wasn’t sure he could’ve heard without his enhanced senses. He looked back to Danny and whispered, “They cut me up.”

Danny fell silent. He didn’t know what to say. After all, who could even respond to that? All he could do was watch, paralyzed, as Wes sniffled and wiped away a stray tear.

“It doesn’t matter,” the red-head finally decided. “They know now.”

That admission snapped Danny out of his guilt-ridden haze. “Know what?” He had a suspicion… but no. Not that. They couldn’t know that.

“I told them, of course,” Wes nonchalantly explained. “That you’re Phantom. They didn’t listen at first, but after realizing it wasn’t me, well… they did.”

Suddenly, Danny grew aware of the white van in his peripheral vision. A door slid open and men started stepping out of it, armed with guns aimed at the two of them. He knew, now, why Wes was sitting on the doorstep out in the open. They had been counting on his arrival. Wes was bait—and he had fallen for their trap. He felt his heartbeat accelerate, yet he didn’t look away from the broken boy standing before him.

“They were probably listening to our conversation,” Wes stated, eyeing the agents behind Danny. “If they had any doubts about what I told them, they’re gone now.”

The weapons whined as they charged. White boots crunched against gravel as they approached, closer and closer—

And Wes smiled, his first real smile since he had been taken. “You should run now,” he suggested. “I wouldn’t want you to go through what I did.”

Danny ducked at the perfect moment, barely avoiding getting shot. He felt the blasts from the weapons soar where his head had been a split second before and whipped around. He eyed the agents that were surrounding him, doing nothing to mask the fiery green glow in his eyes. It was too late. They know now, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

They know.

With one last glance at Wes, Danny turned himself invisible and kicked off the ground, using what limited flight he had in human form. Wes was right, he had to run—because once they caught him, it would be all over. He’d end up just like Wes, but they wouldn’t let him go. They’d keep him and use him as their sick little lab rat until he finally died.

He had to run… had to… run.

#consider this my entry for the last prompt of dannymay19 since i never made anything for that #danny phantom #wes weston #angst #fic #mine

[space-cadet-is-going-to-sleep]

hey i just really wanted to make headcanons for my husbad, Iida Tenya, the love of my life, so heres this trash

hes ticklish on his sides and underarms. this had led to multiple broken and bloody noses which he always profusely apologizes for and offers to help said person after they stop laughing at his reaction

hes super cuddly and 8/10 hes the one who instigates cuddle piles with the dekusquad

hes the first person to offer a hug when someone is upset because he understands that sometimes the only thing you can really do to help someone is to just give them unconditional support

momo may be named the class mom but its really iida, hes always taking care of the class in a motherly way, making sure everyones eaten a balanced meal at least three times a day, making sure you brushed your teeth before bed and your hair before class and that you don’t forget to do your homework.

 sure, you go to momo when you need practical advice, but you go to iida when you need emotional advice. hes known to check in one everyones mental health at least once a week. even bakugou and shinsou get regular visits from mr. class president and while they used to get annoyed, now its something they almost look forward to.

iidas family is pretty big on communication and so hes very open about his feelings and opinions, because of this hes gotten pretty good at reading people which is what makes him the best at cheering people up. he has a way of just knowing what someone needs to feel better.

iida is literally constantly cursing in his head. always. 24/7. if you could hear the things he says in his head you’d faint from shock. 

lets be real here though, given that Tensi, Hizashi, Shota and Nemuri were probably pretty close in school theres no way he didn’t manage to pick up that bad habit as a kid and sure, after the first time his mother washed his mouth out with soap he learned not to say it out loud, but he still does in his head constantly.

he loves giving his classmates super-sonic-piggyback rides but his favorite people to give rides to are kirishima or uraraka because they laugh the loudest

just to show dominance he’ll randomly pick up his classmates and carry them around for a while just because he can

tsuyu and jiro are his favorite people to study with because neither are too strict or too slacking with how they study

youd think he’d be picky with his food growing up in a rich family but honestly this boy will eat anything and everything

sure he pretends to be all about that health food but he can regularly be found hanging out with sero, kaminari, mina, hagakure and kirishima eating straight up junk food

sometime between his second and third year he finally switched to contacts and suddenly like every girl in the school along with quiet a few boys are absolutely swooning over him and he is very confused even if very flattered

hes demisexual but didn’t realize it for quiet a while

once he gets rid of all his glasses in his room he actually has room to decorate a little and so he asks his friends for some help to decorate and they all offer to take him shopping for decorations but in the end they don’t actually buy anything because most of the day  is spent laughing and goofing off in the mall 

by goofing off naturally i mean things like begging todoroki to freeze the fountain over so they can go ice skating on it (theres no written rule against it so really we aren’t breaking any), jokingly saying they should all go to claires and get their ears pierced together (aoyama and todoroki almost do it), taking photos in the photo booths and barely fitting everyone in (so what if theres a lot of lap sitting and personal space violations?), sharing gross food court food as they walk around and asking if they can ride the little kiddie mall train

 the only two people who even fit in the seats are uraraka and todoroki so they get in and yell ‘bye bitches see ya on the other side of the loser tracks’ or, well they try to anyway, todoroki ends up leaning too far over and falls out of the cart landing on his face and uraraka ends up laughing so hard at that she begins to float away

they also nearly destroy a food court table but thats a story for another day (it was dekus fault)

at the end of the day they don’t find him any decorations but its okay because they had a great time together and if slowly and mysteriously little trinkets and paperweights start to appear no one mentions it (by the end of the year somehow every single person in the class has added something to the collection)

when he can’t sleep he likes to re-watch old videos hes either taken of his friends or of the class because it makes him happy

anyway thats all i got for tonight, i just love my boy so much, i would die for iida honestly, hes so good

#iida tenya #iida #bnha iida #class 1-a #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku on hero academia #dekusquad #deku midoriya #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #uraraka ochako #tsuyu asai #aoyama yuuga

[lotsabuns13]

Nothing Can Prepare You

I’ve never posted on Tumblr before and this is kinda a bit depressing to be my first post but I just felt the need to share my story. 

When I was in the sixth grade I was out at recess with my friends playing as sixth graders do when I looked at one of my friends and realized that my feelings for her were more than that of ‘just friends’. At the time, my little sixth grader brain didn’t understand it.  “Why was I feeling this way for a girl?”  “Is this normal?”  “What is this feeling?” Questions like those ran through my mind and I chose to ignore them. In my confusion I smothered those feelings for her and moved on with my life. 

When I entered high school I made new friends and one of them opened my eyes to the LGBTQ+ community and what it really meant. They told me about what being gay, trans, lesbian, bi and much more was all about and that it was totally fine. My ninth grade mind suddenly remembered that day in sixth grade. And thus began the four years of, what I like to call, “The Sexuality Years”

In grade nine I started remembering what I had felt for my friend and started questioning if I really had felt about her that way or not (since like any teenage girl I had been a little boy crazy) but I started trying to understand it. 

That year passed and by grade ten I was still figuring out how I felt. I didn’t know if I liked guys, I didn’t know if I liked girls, I didn’t know if I liked anyone at all. I decided to tell myself I was still figuring it out and I guess I could call that being bi-curious. At this point a few of my female friends  had tried asking me out. I wasn’t confident in my sexuality yet nor was I ready for a relationship so I politely turned them all down. All except one.

This girl I had gotten really close with in the course of one year. At the end of grade ten we had gotten to know each other and by grade eleven we were practically joined at the hip. As time passed I sensed a change in the way she looked at me and then came the semi-formal dance. At the end she pulled me away from the friend group and asked me out. I decided that I liked her back and we both agreed to try dating but if it didn’t work out we would still be friends. Honestly, I think this part of my life was the real eye-opener. We ‘dated’ in secret, not telling any of our friends since we didn’t know if we could call it a relationship or not. But long story short, it didn’t work out in the end and we ended the ‘relationship’ (We are still really good friends and she now has a very loving and caring boyfriend who I am frenemies with)

After that I decided to take a step back and look into my heart. By grade twelve I was confident to come out to my friends with the honest truth. I was gay. I liked girls, preferred girls and saw myself in the future spending the rest of my life with a girl. They accepted me entirely and life continued on.

Next was my family. I have one younger sister, a mom and a dad. My sister was the first I told. She was ecstatic and immediately became my #1 supporter. My mom found out a few months later. I had told her about me questioning my sexuality back when I was bi-curious and ever since then she had suspected my preference lie more towards women. She once again accepted me unconditionally and told me she loved me no matter what.

Then came my father.

I had known for years that my dad was probably one of the most homophobic people I had ever met. He simply believes being gay is wrong and makes sure everyone around him knows he feels that way(an example is when I would be watching a TV show and it would just happen to have a gay couple in it that kissed. He would react by turning his head away from the TV and saying something along the lines of “That’s gross” or “That’s wrong”). So you can understand my hesitation to reveal my sexuality to him.

Now being in grade twelve that means prom. I am single and had no one to go with since my closest female friend was going with her boyfriend and my closest guy friend was going with his girlfriend. So my other close female friend asked me to prom and I said yes. We decided to be cute and buy each other corsages.

I am a very forgetful person so one night as the day to prom draws ever closer my sister, my dad and I were the only ones at home and she walks up to me with my dad literally across from me and asks if I have bought the corsage for my friend yet. I quickly reply no and hop onto my laptop to do just that as I promised I would buy one and I don’t break my promises.

And that’s where it all went wrong

My dad sits in silence as I type away on my laptop, looking at different corsages until he finally asks, “Why are you buying a corsage for a girl?”

I reply, “Because I’m going with her.”

“Why are you going with a girl to prom?”

Now a logical person would have replied “Because she’s my friend” but I had had a long day and I was very tired and wasn’t in the mood to deal with my dad and his homophobic sh*t so I replied “Because I can.”

Back to silence. About five minutes later he gets up from where he was sitting with a simple “I don’t agree with that” and proceeds to stop around in our kitchen getting things ready to cook on the barbeque for dinner and proceeds to slam the door on his way out so loud that my sister left her room to check on me. All I could think in that moment was “F*ck... He knows”

At that point my world came crumbling down. My homophobic dad knew that his daughter was gay. I didn’t know what to do. My sister tried to keep me calm, comforting me as I started to cry. I texted my close guy friend who lived just down the street from me, asking if I could potentially come over(in the past he had said to me that if anything was ever wrong I could come to his place). He texted back yes and I proceeded to hide in my room, packing a bag of my homework. My dad came back in after finishing cooking and proceeded to loudly serve himself and sit down to eat without a word (he usually called out me and my sister to eat when dinner was ready). After he was finished he put away his dished and then came to my room where my sister and I were waiting to tell us dinner was ready. Neither of us were hungry. Later on he called on us because our guinea pigs had gotten loose from their cage. I went out to grab them and I heard him ask my sister “Where is she?”

I poke my head out of the living room and ask “Where is who?”

He looked at me with a bored and what felt to me was a disgusted look and simply said “never mind”

At that point I was done. I didn’t feel safe, I didn’t feel comfortable. I wanted out.

I grabbed my bag, and made it to the door where my friend was already waiting for me. I texted my mom in advance to let her know that I would be at my friend’s house studying and to let my dad know that she knew if he asked. My dad questioned why I was leaving and I told him. He didn’t let me leave. I started crying in frustration and pain and opened the door. He told me to stay. My friend approached the door and gently grabbed my hand, telling me to go only for my dad to yell at him to take his hands off me and slam the door in his face. I screamed at my dad that I wanted to leave, that I didn’t feel comfortable and he had no right to stop me. We argued about gay people and he said that gay people are the minority (the 1% as he so eloquently put it) and that people with his views are the majority. I called him a biggoted fool. He threatened to call the police. I said on what grounds? I was an adult by law, he couldn’t stop me. I told him one last time all the details of where I would be, told him he could call the police if he wanted and left, crying all the way down the street to my friend’s house while he hugged me close. 

I spent the next three hours at his house with him and his mom telling me it was ok, it wasn’t my fault and things like that. My friend’s girlfriend and her younger sister even stopped by to comfort me (as I am friends with them as well). Eventually I had to go home since my dad texted me asking me to but I went straight to my room without saying a word to him or even looking at him. 

My mom eventually came home from work and she discussed with my dad the events of the night. She had told him that she loved me unconditionally and that if he didn’t change his ways he wouldn’t have a relationship with me. She said that they both knew they had been seeing signs of this since I had been in grade six and his response was that they had both wished that those signs would go away. My mom quickly corrected him in saying that I love who I love and his love for me shouldn’t change because of my sexuality. From that point on I don’t remember much except my dad packing his things up for work and leaving. I cried to my mom, apologizing and she comforted me.

The next day I went to school and cried three times before lunch whenever I thought about it. When I came home I barely spoke to my dad unless it was necessary, same with the day after that. Then came prom. I went with my friend and we exchanged corsages. I had a great time but allowed myself to think about my dad who had seen me before I went to prom all fancy in my dress and barely looked at me before going into the house and nearly cried. My entire friend group proceeded to spend the weekend at one of my friend’s houses. While I was gone my I kept in touch with my sister and she had informed me that one night she and my dad had gotten in a fight and revealed that he was still mad about my coming out. I cried again.

After that I was done crying. Why waste my tears on this? I love me, my friends accept me, my mom and my sister accept me and even my grandmother hinted that she knew I was gay and said she loved me no matter what. It wasn’t worth my tears. 

I wish I could say this was years ago but this was merely days ago. I still don’t talk to my dad. I hide in my room, I don’t make eye contact, I don’t speak to him unless it’s absolutely necessary. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive him or even attempt to rekindle our once close bond. 

I guess my point is, despite knowing for years that my dad was homophobic and if I ended up being gay or bi he wouldn’t accept it, it still didn’t prepare me for the actual thing. It hurt so much more than I thought it would. I cried so much it’s embarrassing to think about. All I feel now is anger towards him. I have been told many times that no matter how much you prepare, nothing can truly ready you for reality and man did it sucker punch me. 

But I love myself, I am proud of myself and I wouldn’t change a thing about me. If you read this whole thing, thanks I guess. 

#gay #lesbian #lgbtq #coming out #comingout #my story #random #storytime #hurt #feels #love #vent #vent post

[glorioussimon]

underappreciated things about rise 1x09: totally hosed

i love this episode

lou doing yoga

mr kranepool told him about it

gordy’s not a fan

the mazzus are so sad when maashous tells them that he’s leaving

sadie :(

simon looks at his family completely differently now 

tracey wanting to keep working with lou even though he’s lou

this is the point when mama who bore me started to get a little excessive

jeremy has a polar bear wearing sunglasses on his shirt and i can’t tell if it’s blessed or cursed

lilette just being interrupted in the middle of her song

i love this episode because of the troupe awkwardly just being there during like three of lou and tracey’s arguments

also sasha has her arm around michael’s shoulders

evan’s list for spring awakening is just. it’s certainly something

when robbie’s visiting his mom for the first time this episode he looks less happy and more scared

robbie wanting his mom to be there on opening night

robbie’s face when his mom says that she’ll come when she’s feeling better

gwen’s smile when gordy is introduced to the troupe

gordy looks so awkward i love it

everyone cheering at the first full runthrough

but if this is the first full run through what were they doing in episode 7?

lexi blaming herself for the petition

why does jeremy wear a suit here but a hoodie in the final performance. why couldn’t he keep the suit he looks so good

jolene coming up with totally fricked

“there will be other-” “censorship?” “...tweaks.” simon saunders i would die for you

jeremy and francis look so pissed when ms wolfe stops lilette

also i think they’re sharing a chair which is cute

i really like the set for dark i know well with the railroad tracks on the ground

also their version of it is. really dramatic and idk how i feel about that

“i thought you said the text was sacred. that we have to utter every syllable the playwright writes.” i love you lilette

the totally fricked montage is still the best thing to come out of this show

also i just realized that francis plays both herr knochenbruch (i know that i didn’t spell that right) and georg so wtf does he do during this song. does he go change his clothes really quickly when robbie starts singing or do we all just pretend not to notice that one of the adult men is singing georg’s solo

robbie rolling his eyes during totally confused. i’ve never noticed it before and it’s the funniest thing in the world to me

francis trying not to laugh during totally blue

maashous looking so exhausted the whole time

and then him facepalming in the background after totally messed up

lou watching while gwen and gordy talk

“why are you volunteering here?” “i just love theater”

lilette saying that robbie’s dad hates her. the worst part is she’s probably right

i think that vanessa and lilette have both said “i’m a big girl i can handle myself” at different points in the show, which is interesting

SIMON SINGING WOYBR WHILE HE DOES HIS HOMEWORK I’M GOING TO FUCKING CRY

if i ever have to see emma sad again i’m going to break my tv screen

simon telling emma that she can come live with him if their parents ever get divorced

mama strickland being so salty about having to change lilette’s dress

i love that she asked how lilette’s doing with everything that’s going on with coach and vanessa. she’s the only adult to really realize how much this has a toll on lilette and gwen and i like that about her

“you have a light. you shine.”

why is the jukebox on the stage during dark i know well what purpose does it serve

have we just decided to ignore francis and clark’s adult men wigs

i like how they have the rest of the cast walking around in the background during dark i know well like they’re not seeing/ignoring martha and ilse’s abuse

“i want to want you i don’t want to need you” fuck yes lilette

the troupe coming out of the wings to watch tracey and lou argue about the beating scene is a mood

“tiny, tiny, TINY CHANGES”

gwen and gordy glancing at each other and smirking

“you can beat her. just...like it less”

kaitlin is so excited for next year when she can be in the play and now i’m just sad

she’s so worried about maashous

“i hate her. i don’t know her, but i hate her”

lou telling gail about gordy and gwen

he doesn’t want gordy to get his heart broken

gail was out of lou’s league

simon’s dad is so cold. it reminds me of how simon acts with jeremy or  whenever he closes himself off

simon’s face when his dad says “compromises”

and especially when his dad says that someday simon will have to make the same compromises

bitch of living playing in the background

the transition from simon praying to singing. you can really tell that the stage is where simon feels the most free and that’s one of the reasons why he’s so pissed about the changes - because something’s threatening that.

the fact that ‘bitch’ wasn’t on evan’s swear list so they just go for it

the girls are getting so into it i love them so much

francis didn’t have to go that hard during his solo but he did and i’d like to thank him for it

rise remains the only production that i know of where we have physically seen grossenbustenhalter (i know that i didn’t spell that right) during bitch of living. i don’t know how to feel about this

when i had pneumonia i spent an entire day on the couch rewatching rise on hulu and when i got to this scene my dad was in the kitchen nearby so i just. turned the volume way down to avoid questions

it’S THE BITCH OF LIVING AND SENSING THIS IS BAD

michael and jeremy look so tired of this

why did we even have to cut francis’s solo it doesn’t technically break any of evan’s rules

lou really doesn’t want to say breasts

“you and your....piano teacher”

i remember being so surprised that simon said “ass” because he just doesn’t seem like the type

michael just standing on the chair in the background with his arms crossed

this is my favorite scene in the series and You Will Know About It

this is so important to simon and it’s just falling apart. just like his family, just like his whole life right now.

there’s nothing that simon values more than the truth, his truth, and he doesn’t want to keep hiding it from everyone, most of all himself. that’s why he doesn’t want to make compromises in spring awakening or in his own life.

jeremy’s expression when simon says that his family is falling apart

simon’s literal mic drop

you can see him wiping away tears when he walks off stage

sasha looks so shocked and it’s the funniest fucking thing

lilette going after him. idk if this was a deleted scene or not but i would kill to see that conversation

if i ever see francis look that sad again i’m going to personally fight jason katims with my own two fists

“set up for scene five” *no one moves* “SCENE FIVE” *michael quickly steps off of the chair*

gordy and lou stress eating together at the diner

gordy calling simon “that simon kid”

lou calling himself cool and gordy just laughing at him

tbh lou and gail are a Good pair of heterosexuals

robbie’s hands shaking when he’s talking with the nurse

kaitlin’s cute space buns and galaxy leggings

i’m going to tattoo maashous was here over my heart. you know the heart that he broke

robbie nearly being in tears when he asks his mom to come to opening night

amazing grace.

the contrast between lilette and her mom and robbie and his mom. lilette’s mom is gone because of her own decision, robbie’s mom is leaving against her will

enough games where the fuck is damon j gillespie’s emmy

rilette just holding onto each other

why am i so emotional about these straight fifteen year olds

“i’ve never felt so close to someone” end my life!!!

jeremy asking simon if he’s okay

i unironically love jeremy’s skater boy outfit

simon’s voice cracking when he talks about the bomb inside of him

both of the boys have tears in their eyes and i’m :(

you know that meme of the dude carrying the giant oscar on his shoulder? that’s me giving ted sutherland and sean grandillo their emmys

where the fuck is the rest of their conversation why does nbc hate us so much

gordy not giving up on gwen

on the aforementioned pneumonia day my dad was in the room with me when gordy said that gwen was pretty stalkable and i remember that his exact words were “what the fuck?”

kaitlin pulling up the adoption website and putting the computer in front of her mom is such a power move i love her

lou’s eye roll during censored dark i know well

what did the censored song even sound like i can’t think of a way to make it not about sexual abuse

yeah yOU’RE HOSED ALRIGHT

evan loves totally hosed

the troupe listening in on the final argument of the night

i would like to call specific attention to michael starting to leave before lou even says anything, simon and lilette sharing the chair, and francis doing it to em

you can see that maashous is still there as the argument continues. i bet he knows all the tea

this is the last episode that we watched before knowing about the cancellation wow i’m sad

next post: i die

#rise nbc #rise #underappreciated things #aj.txt

[fitzonomy]

The 2018 Rumination Spectacular

It’s a long post. It’s gonna be triggering. Blacklist “ash 2018″ and “long post.” Sorry mobile users. Here’s a picture. Use this as a warning that you should blacklist those tags NOW if you don’t wanna read:

For about a week, I’ve wondered how to start this post. How to finish it. What to put in the middle. It’s really a shame, being depressed and anxious and all sorts of other things but maintaining a high self-esteem. It’s not like I want to. My mind and my brain and my body refuse to let me just be. They constantly remind me I have to be center stage, the best, to be adored. Let’s be honest. I don’t have high self-esteem. I have an obsessive, insatiable desire for love because I was born to abusive people. I was raised by more abusive people. I’ve continued to place my trust and well-being in abusive people. And then, when things fall spectacularly apart, I blame myself. I blame my body. I blame my brain. I blame my mind. A lot has happened this year. A big thing: the realization that I desperately crave others to want me. I want to feel loved and valuable and interesting and just wanted. And, I guess, that’s what school gave me. I left my PhD program in May 2017 and it’s taken almost two years to realize I didn’t stay in school or move into higher education because I had a burning passion (okay, I mean, I do still have a passion for my work but it wasn’t the foundation). The American education system gave an abused child something slightly better than I had: praise and positive feedback for jumping hoops. My home life twenty years ago? There was no rhyme or reason to which behaviors would yield which result. School? College? Grad school? Let’s face it. I’m white. At the time I was identifying as straight and female. I was going into STEM. Perform well, earn As, be friendly. Rules rules rules. Two weeks ago, I finally told my therapist of almost five years how my first sexual experience was a doctor raping me. It’s really funny. Hilarious actually how it’s taken thirty-one years to feel like I am my own person. Because before the doctor, there’d been my step-father (”It isn’t really enough to do anything with,” the police had told me when I was sixteen at my then therapist’s office). There’d been the high school boyfriend (”My dad was in the marines. I inherited his anger management problems.”). But there was also my mom. My grandmother who isn’t my grandmother but she “adopted” my mom as her daughter. They met online on a forum for Forever Knight, a 90s Canadian supernatural romance crime show about a woman who has a vampire for a partner. It’s really hard, yanno, to be gentle with myself. Don’t be angry.

So, 2018 was a year of me working on this. I’m still working. I’m angry at everything nowadays. There’s no good resolution to it other than to sit with it. I don’t understand how people can say, “Let anger go,” like I intentionally hold onto it. This anger and pain and trauma is carved into my bones and it gets carried through like oxygen in my bloodstream. Whenever I think about this anger at myself, the regret and the hurt, the left side of my left arm hurts. It starts about the middle of my forearm and goes to my pinky. Asking when this started isn’t a useful question. I’m angry because I let myself be used and hurt by people. I’m angry because I ignored my own needs and wants. I’m angry because now I’m thirty-one and it feels like my life is over. I made a lot of decisions and they were all made for the benefit of others. “Be your own person,” only works when you’ve got a person who isn’t desperate for love. I’m angry because I feel like I’ve wasted my life worrying about other people. Yes, yes. I’m not old. Don’t bother telling me. You don’t pay my bills. You can tell me what I feel when you give me money--substantial amounts of it. In 2005, I gave my step-father $1500. I’ve been working at the local Dairy Queen for years, saving money religiously because I was desperate to get a car, drive, gain independence. My parents told me the insurance was too expensive. My step-dad was the only driver because my mom has MS. It would probably never happen, but just in case. I should save, just in case. I gave my step-father money because he said, “The van needs fixed. Without it, you know your mom can’t get to the hospital.” I can’t remember any night between the ages of 15-17 when the police of the EMTs weren’t at my house. All of my homework was usually left abandoned in red and blue lights. I’d get back to it at midnight. Nothing mattered to my teachers except that I made As. At this point, I don’t know where blame lies but it seems pretty solid that I get stuck with the anger. 2018 was the year I realized that I don’t know how to have friends, how to keep a job, how to think about a career. 2018 was the year I realized that I have to make peace with living in poverty again. I was doing so well. Grad school was the best my finances had ever been. Until December 2013. I tried to kill myself. It’s old news. I was in the hospital. They forgot about me and I ended up spending three more days than needed. PROTIP: don’t try killing yourself during the holidays. Everyone will just tell you the holidays are rough for everyone. And finals. Mid-December is the time for students to also feel the pressure. If you’re neither of these, good luck. I took out massive amounts of student loans to go back to school. To pay my hospital bills. I was so desperate to get back into school because it was the only place that made sense. 2018 was the year I decided to change my name, my gender. I’m learning how to live in my body. It’s taken thirty-one years, but I’ve come to the realization it was mine. For six years, I took meds that made me weigh over 200 lbs all for the benefit of the high school boyfriend. For five years I starved myself because I wanted everyone to see what a successful PhD student I was. My body has never been mine before. This is a new thing for me. 2018? It started off with hope. There was less hope for most of it. I think it’s ending with hope. I hope it is.

My mom refuses to stop calling me. Five years ago, I stopped answering her calls. I begged her to stop. I was polite. I was rude. I was angry. I was at peace. I’ve tried everything. Her contacting me isn’t about me, it’s about her. It’s about what she wants. in December of 2013, I tried to kill myself.

It’s so old news, my mom told my partner when he called her, “Oh. Well, let me know when everything’s okay.” In 2009 I was admitted into the hospital for exhaustion. I’d had a breakdown in college. I was told to try yoga. Meditation. I was told it was just test anxiety. All I’ve ever desperately wanted was to be the priority.

And I bent for other people. I broke myself and put myself back together in ways other people would find pleasing. I bend and I break and now my body hurts. Chronically. In 2016 I was in a car accident. My partner has told me most of this story. I remember almost nothing. I spent two months locked up in my house with a concussion. More debt. More weight gained. My partner tells me at one point the doctors kept poking and prodding my feet. He tells me that I wasn’t responding and that my legs weren’t moving. He was horrified that the accident had left me paraplegic. I don’t remember any of this. The doctors eventually told him it was just shock. My body overloaded with too much too fast. And not enough neuron action, I guess. Too much, not enough. I discovered yesterday that Jack Kerouac said something similar. I’ve never read anything by him. Must be a common human feeling. Everything is too much. Everything is not enough. 2018 is right now still and I’m still working on reshaping myself for myself and not for others. 1987 was right then and thirty days before it ended, I came at the last minute. I’ve spent my entire life trying to make sure I was early to make a good impression. Now, I arrive when I arrive. I live in the land of -ish. Work hasn’t yelled at me. Yet. 2018: I started drawing again. I started writing again. I am trying not to feel like I’m too old. I’m working. I’m trying. I’m doing. I’m poor. I feel like my college degree warrants me not that but que was que is. I obsessively think about contacting my mom. No matter the meds, I have to count 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 every time I lock the door to the comic book shop where I work. If I don’t, the door isn’t locked. I’ve never had wide hips but I’ve always had thick thighs. My butt has always been big. My culture rather I’d accept my fate as a woman, bend myself and break myself to be one. They don’t belong to me. My thighs eat anything that comes between them. I wish I was being literal. I wish my thighs had eaten other people’s hands and other body parts. Vagina dentata is too late for my tastes. I want my thighs to reflexively snap like a bear trap and break someone’s neck. But I have a hard enough time finding clothes I can live with. I’m wearing the pants of Theseus right now. I’m tired of sewing patches into the holes my thighs keep eating. 2018 and I’m wondering if I will ever stop hurting. But it’s 2018 and I know I’m a better me than I’ve ever been before. And right now, that’s enough.

#ash 2018 #long post #cw #everything?

[mininky]

Renatus (1)

Summary: (y/n) finds herself in a very unusual situation where her fate seems to be woven with Hades himself, who’s too much of a jerk for her to even admit that sure okay he’s kind of really good looking.

Pairing: Hades!Yoongi x reader

Warnings: none for now other than some cussing and mentions of a chamberpot and my small love speech to Sojourner Truth

Chapters: one two three

   Your 21st birthday had so far been incredibly uneventful. You had spent too much time trying to power your way through piles of essays and had little interest in drinking the night away unless it was with a painfully strong coffee that might actually help you get through all of the homework. Your birthdays were always relatively uneventful. Perhaps that was your fault, you were too absorbed in school and work at this point in your life to try to make functioning relationships, platonic or otherwise. Even as a child friendship had been a difficult achievement and birthdays were usually just a painful reminder of that. The only thing that ever stood out about your birthday was the flowers you received every year at midnight. A gorgeous arrangement of lilies, with no card and no name, appeared on the doorstep of wherever you lived every year like clockwork after you turned 13. At first, you had guessed it was your parents, but even they seemed to be perplexed at who it was. Your next guess was your grandmother who owned a small flower shop, but upon explaining the flowers to her on your 14th birthday she looked alarmed and said she would never give you flowers that symbolized death. As a teenager the flowers haunted you, you were constantly trying to catch who it was that left them but never saw a single person leave them behind. As an adult, you just welcomed that someone out there wanted to leave you a present, even if you would be too busy editing your fifth essay this week to actually give it much thought this time.    After what felt like decades you reread your most recent edits and cracked your knuckles. It was decent, it wasn't groundbreaking work by any means however creating something groundbreaking about a piece as famous as "Ain't I Woman" wasn't about to happen, the more important thing to you at this point was editing the essay so it didn't seem like you were only writing a worship piece dedicated to Sojourner Truth which turned out to be far more difficult than previously predicted as you found yourself constantly trying to stay on topic rather than rant for pages about the beauty of how unplanned the speech was, how it encompassed everything still wrong with society today, how the woman was so bad ass she literally walked away from slavery. Literally, she walked away, she didn't even run. As your eyes tried to skim towards the end you found the weight of the night finally hitting your mind and body, a deep lethargy sweeping over you. The last thought you had was a reminder that you needed to finish preparing for your presentation of Mary Wollstonecraft before succumbing to sleep.

   You weren't sure where you were or what was going on. All you knew is that you had fallen asleep on a mountain of homework with "A Vindication of the Rights of Women" as a makeshift pillow on your desk and now you seemed to be in a very strange dream in a very strange place and to top that off you were having a far too realistic dream where you woke up with-in the dream, yes that's exactly what had to be happening because the room before your eyes was completely new to you. The bed you lay in felt like something straight out of a five star hotel, the sheets where the smoothest black silk and the blankets were of the most gorgeous fur you had ever seen (faux you hoped quickly) and there were four posters with a canopy of black and gold mesh-like material, that upon touch felt also luxuriously soft and far too real for your liking. A feeling of anxiety began to bubble inside you as you opened up the canopy and walked slowly through the room. There was black and gold everywhere, and the room was larger than the entirety of the two bedroom apartment you shared with three other roommates. A grand ornate mirror stood on the floor, the length running up almost halfway to what had to be at least thirty feet ceilings (although judging the size and height of things had never been your strong suit) and oh good god was that a gold chamberpot?????? A CHAMBERPOT?    "Note to self, stop drinking so much caffeine my dreams are getting really fucking weird." The words came out as a whisper but echoed through the room. At that same time you heard other noises, other people speaking. In the distance, you could hear someone saying something similar to "a girl! No no no a human!! You're sure you sensed that in your room? But how????" Moments later an ornately carved wooden door that you somehow hadn't noticed burst open and two men tumbled in.    "How did she get in here Jungkook?" The shorter of the two asked the younger man, his eyes staring into yours for just a second before looking back at his companion. Even in your dreams people ignored you and were assholes, you really needed to do something other than study when you woke up. Maybe actually try talking to someone in your class, or joining a gym and try to strike up a conversation with the least pretentious person there.    "How am I supposed to know? I only came to visit you because I thought Persephone ran away again, this place gives me the creeps." The younger of the two looked down at his feet as he spoke, while at first he was annoyed now he seemed to be...intimidated almost?    "Well she's clearly not here and we clearly have a problem that there is a human here and she's alive and she seems to have just appeared, there is no sign of an intrusion and I have felt no presence other than your own come in through the entrance." With that, the more intimidating man started to walk closer to you. "Who are you girl?" Again you couldn't help to want to analyze the simultaneously lazy and commanding presence of his.    You didn't answer quickly, instead, you took time to inspect him. While you might be having a very bizarre dream and the guy did seem to be a bit of an asshole you must admit he was good looking. 'The good looking ones are usually assholes' you thought to yourself. He was short, and from what you could tell under his black robe (oh great my dream is taking a weird cult turn, I knew I shouldn't have tried to do my alternative religion studies so late at night after watching true crime documentaries yesterday) he seemed to be very slim, his face was almost cute if it weren't for the sharp look in his eyes and the tight clench in his jaw forming a formidable scowl. As your eyes traced over his features you heard the other boy (Jungkook he called him) say "Do you think she's deaf??"    "Quiet Jungkook. Girl, I asked you a question. What is your name?" His voice was slightly louder this time, slightly deeper from agitation.    "You're kind of an ass, how about asking nicely?" The words tumbled out before you could think and you found yourself growing red as Jungkook began to shake with laughter and kept repeating, "oh my gods she called you an ass Yoongi, an ass!"    'Ah so Yoongi is his name...' you looked back and forth between the two, your face growing hot yet again as you realized that Yoongi hadn't broken his gaze from you even under the commotion of his friend. "My name is (y/n), and I take it you are Yoongi...so tell me Yoongi, where am I dreaming that I am? I don't believe I've ever seen this place, I'm pretty sure I'd remember a gold chamberpot."    His eyes narrowed and Yoongi stepped closer, his breath fanning over your face. It felt like we stood in a staring match for ages, both of us too stubborn to lose before finally Jungkook stopped laughing and said, "You don't realize you're in Hades? Good gods, how did you even get here?"    That was enough to break your staring match as you looked over at the younger boy, "What? I'm dreaming that I'm in Hades? The ancient Greek underworld?"    "Ancient? Perhaps to you humans, yes perhaps it could be called ancient. Speaking of humans I don't believe I gave you permission to call me by that name, to you humans I am Hades." Yoongi didn't even blink or move away from you, his words shook with a quiet anger, his near whisper feeling more like a yell. At first, you felt small under his tone, uncomfortable under his gaze as confusion washed over you. The dream felt so bizarre and so unusual, but you couldn't help the gnawing anxious voice in the back of your head telling you that this wasn't a dream and that you were somehow standing in front of a mythological figure while the logical voice in your head was also saying that there is no logical way any god is real, that there is no possible way you were in anything but a dream.    The logical side of the argument waring within your head began to win out and mustering up some confidence you looked straight at Yoongi (or Hades or dream dude) and said, "Aren't you a little short to be the 'terrifying' god of the underworld? Also a little...young?"    Once again Jungkook howled with laughter, tears running down his face as he chortled out "short ohhhhhh my gooooodsssss. I like her! I say she should stay, this is great! Short!!! She called you short!"    To your surprise, Yoongi began to match your smirk and he moved his lips right to your ear before whispering, "While I want to appreciate how feisty you are, I more appreciate how much of an idiot you are for laughing at the face of death and its god. I could kill you, I could take your soul, I could devour it and ensure that your soul would never enter another body again."    You refused to show fear, you refused to shake in front of him. Even in this idiotic dream, you were just as stubborn as you were in real life. While your insides twisted with fear and anxiety bubbled up in your throat you steeled yourself to show none of that on your face. "Well, Hades" you spat out his name and gave a long pause before continuing, trying to match his lazy pace, "if this isn't a dream, and you are truly the god of the underworld then isn't it best to get me back to the world of the living? I have a presentation that I don't want to miss, I've been working my ass off and it's worth half my entire grade. So chop chop, lets get to it, big boy." You're not sure how but you managed to say all of that with confidence, not even a slight waver in your voice.    Yoongi stared back at you for some time before turning around and walking towards the door. "Fine, we'll go to the fates and see what's going on and see if you don't truly know how you got here or if you’re hiding something."    As you rushed to follow his fast pace Jungkook took stride in the middle of the two of you. "I'm coming with, this is by far more entertaining than anything else I could do." Jungkook had a smile plastered on his face, still wiping tears from his eyes as he spoke.

     You’re not sure why but you found comfort in that. While you didn't know the young man at all you found his presence far lighter and far more comforting than Hades’. Yoongi had this energy to him, a presence that felt overwhelming at times and a voice that encompassed this quiet power that lay in an angry bubble just below the surface. The entire time you walked you tried to mentally tell yourself to wake up and wrapped up in your thoughts you found yourself walking straight into Yoongi's back. Blinking you realized that Yoongi was sitting in a boat already and that Yoongi was waiting for you to step in. After taking a cautious step in you sat down next to Jungkook (to ensure you wouldn't have to sit next to Hades) and began to look around. Hades was unlike not only anything you had ever seen but unlike anything you would imagine it to be. What you assumed to be the Styx river was stunning, the waters changed colors constantly, from light lilacs to blood reds and brilliant greens to soft yellows and inky blacks. It was also covered with the most beautiful lilies you had ever seen. You began to reach out to touch on before Hades grabbed your hand.

   "Do not touch the water girl, the souls will try to attach themselves to you and trying to remove them is a very painful and often fatal endeavor." His voice sounded almost soft, almost caring. Yoongi looked wistfully at the water as you finally spoke.    "Lilies...every year I receive Lilies on my birthday and I'm sorry to say that today I didn't even check to see if I received them." Your voice came out in a dreamy whisper as if saying it too loud would mean that would break the spell of the unknown lilies that you treasured.    "You...I..."Yoongi seemed at a loss for words, his mind clearly confused by this statement. "You couldn't be..."    "Oh look Yoongs, we're already at the entrance. Hey, do you think you can transport all of us to the fates? They never seem to want to let me in. Crazy old bats." Both Yoongi and you were forced out of your thoughts by Jungkook, and you realized that indeed the boat had stopped at a sandy shore in front of a dark entrance where candles floated in mid-air.    Before you could even step out of the boat you felt a cold hand grab a hold of your shoulder and in just a blink of an eye, you found yourself standing in front of three very strange looking old women.    "Ah yes, we knew you'd come Hades!" The one on the left chirped as the one in the middle said, "You must surely remember!" The one on the right finished with, "You, after all, set this fate in motion!"    Your mind tried to take in everything. You weren't sure how you got here, or where here was (yet again.) The women in front of you looked exactly like cartoon witches, in black robes and bristly long white hair with a mad glint in their foggy eyes.    Yoongi stepped in front. "Fates, I'm not sure how...but this girl found herself in my sleeping chambers. I came to you because I assume you can explain how her fate is woven into the underworld or if this is just some elaborate prank by Zeus..."    You chose to remain silent instead of trying to add to the conversation, you were still trying to understand what exactly was going on. You couldn't help but think of the cartoon fates in Hercules and worked hard to stifle the laugh that was trying to bubble out as you gazed at the three old women in front of you.    "Why surely you remember!" Again they spoke from left to right, apparently one of the three could not speak for them all, again the image of the Disney movie lurked in your mind's eye. "Why you promised!" "Why you chose to wove this fate!" And then they circled back to the furthest on the left. "Why you saved that woman's boy." "You took her up on her offer that you would wed the woman's firstborn daughter" "And in exchange, you broke the taboo and let the boy live!" "Surely you remember." "After all" "We know of the lilies you send!"    "You...you sent the lilies?" Your voice came out soft, you sounded almost childlike as you thought back to the first time you received the lilies when you were just ten.    "I...I didn't know I was sending them to you, I just asked Hermes to send them..."Yoongi sounded startled and even slightly embarrassed almost, like a small child who's been caught in the act.    "I don't understand...how could you send them to me without knowing my name? And what do they mean save the son? My mother has no boys I have no brothers, I’m an only child. And...DID THEY SAY MARRY??? OH MY GOD THIS ISN'T A FUCKING DREAM AT ALL IS IT? I...I...I...ohh nooo my presentation!!!" You started hyperventilating as you continued speaking, the air around you felt dizzyingly hot and stuffy and the walls felt like they were closing in. If it's possible to feel exactly like a phone that's been submerged in water that is the exactly how your brain felt. Jungkook suddenly appeared next to you (or perhaps in the midst of everything you just hadn't noticed that he had been there the whole time, you really weren't sure) and tried to soothe you by rubbing the back of your neck. Yoongi looked both bewildered and...perhaps angry or jealous (or maybe you just secretly hoped that, but you really didn't want to try to analyze what you felt for Hades at that moment) as he watched the scene before him.    Once you managed to finally slow your breathing to a steady pace Yoongi said so quietly you could barely hear him, "I will answer all of your questions in time, but you need rest." And suddenly you found yourself as you had just hours ago slipping into another deep sleep without any warning at all.

alksdjf so this felt like a rushed mess? Sorry, this is actually my first fanfic and I haven’t tried writing anything fiction in ages but this idea just popped into my head and I figured I should just...go with it? Anywho this chapter is more like a prologue, I’ll try to update soon and I’m sorry if it’s just a hot mess, but I do hope you enjoyed this!

Also, fun fact, I once had to do a 12 slide presentation on Sojourner Truth and to this day I have never done another assignment that I loved more than that one and just as a reminder Ms. Truth actually had a Dutch accent as Dutch was her first language, in fact she was a slave in New York not the south so southern accents aren’t accurate in the slightest.

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