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poisonedapples · 4 years

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Lasting Impressions - Chapter Two: One Step Forward

Story Summary: Virgil makes a good friend at the weirdest time of day; four in the morning, where everyone and their dog is fast asleep. However, deciding to befriend that person ends up getting him into a lot more trouble than he could ever suspect. His new friend ended up going missing that same night. And Virgil was the last person to see him alive.

Previous Chapter

Chapter Warnings: Kidnapping, stalking, swearing, some unsafe binding, a couple mentions of alcohol, mentions of past injuries and blood, implied past fighting, past abuse mentions, money issues, and food mentions

Chapter Word Count: 6,937

Notes: A huge thanks to CornyBird on Ao3 for beta reading this story (and also most of my stuff)! You’re the best <3

Virgil’s leg was bouncing violently on the floor as his thumb hovered over the call button. He’d run home as quickly as he could and was still panting from the exercise, but Virgil refused to take off his binder. If he was going to visit the police, he didn’t want them to see his chest.

It was such a stupid thing to worry about. Out of all the things that happened in the last hour, he was worried about a detective seeing that he had boobs. Usually if his binder was restricting him, he’d take it off the second he was able to. But considering now he was a part of a missing person investigation, that seemed like the least of his worries.

There was a phone number on the bottom of the missing person poster he’d grabbed. If you have any information about Roman Goldsberry, it said, please call the local precinct at the number below.

He had the number dialed. All Virgil had to do was press call. But facing the severity of the situation (and his phone anxiety) seemed like a task impossible to overcome.

Virgil threw his phone on the bed and started taking off his shirt to get to his binder. The thought of heading back out into the world without his binder terrified him, but right now he could barely breathe. So he slipped on a sports bra and took in a couple deep breaths, feeling too jittery to do his usual stretches afterward.

He breathed in for four seconds instead. Your information could save this dude’s life.

He held it for seven seconds. It’s terrifying, but you have no choice. This is life or death for someone here. You have the power to save him. Do it.

Then, out for eight. Just hit call and get it over with. If you don’t, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.

Virgil looked at his phone on the bed, still opened to the number ready to hit the dial. He slowly walked over to his phone like it was a ticking bomb. Do it. Hit call. It’s really not that hard. Just call it.

Alright. On three...one, two...two and a half…

Three.

The phone began to ring as Virgil paced around his room. The ringing seemed to last a lifetime before a voice finally interrupted the sound.

“You are speaking to Police Detective Logan Wilson, please note that all calls made to this number are recorded and responses may have a delay.”

Virgil paused for a long time. Is this a recorded message?

“...Is anyone there?”

Fuck. Apparently not. “Uh, hey, sorry...I just, uh...it told me on the missing posters for Roman Goldsberry to call this number if I had any information…?”

Virgil heard a thud in the background. “Yes, you have the right number. What do you have to report?”

“Well…” Virgil looked at the smiling missing photo still crumpled up on his bed. “The poster says that the guy was last seen on October 2nd. I talked to him at 4 AM on October 3rd.”

Another thud. “And you are certain you talked to Goldsberry?”

“Yeah. He told me his name and we talked for a while. I know this sounds kinda crazy, but...I think I might have been the last person to see him…?”

The other side of the line was quiet for a while. “Would you mind telling me your name?”

“Uh, Virgil. Virgil Blackbell.”

“Thank you for calling, Mr. Blackbell. However, I would like to question you about Goldsberry further in person. Would you be willing to come to my office at the Eleventh Precinct for questioning?”

No turning back now, huh? “Uh yeah, sure. What time?”

“Well...it’s noon right now, and unless you have any other responsibilities, how would you feel about one o’clock?”

“I can do that, sure.” Let’s get this over with.

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for you at that time, then. Have a nice day, sir.”

“Uh, see ya.”

With that, the detective on the other end hung up. Virgil took his free thirty minutes before he had to leave as time to collapse in bed and scream into the pillows, which provided some relief from the pent-up anxiety he’d been having. But still, his limbs felt weak and something deep inside Virgil’s body wanted to vomit.

I have to go to a precinct. To talk to a detective. For questioning. In a missing person case.

Virgil stuffed his face deeper into his pillow and screamed again. Why couldn’t this shit have happened to someone else?

But there was no turning back now. In an hour, Virgil would be talking to a detective about a guy he barely knew. At least then, he could drop this whole mess.

That was the only thing keeping him together—dropping this whole thing.

Virgil took a deep breath and curled up in his bed. It’s alright, he thought, we’ll get this over with.

Then I’ll never have to worry about missing people ever again.

***

When Virgil made it to the precinct five minutes before one o’clock, the detective was already waiting for him at the door.

He always thought of detectives as the ones in old mystery movies, the ones with magnifying glasses and a brown trenchcoat, but this person didn’t look anything like that. Instead, he was wearing a black suit with a dark blue tie, the square glasses on his face making him look like a nerdy businessman more than anything. Virgil would have laughed if he didn’t remember that detectives have more fighting skills than he ever would.

The detective approached him. “Are you Virgil Blackbell, by any chance?”

“Er, yeah, that’s me.”

“I appreciate you coming here, Mr. Blackbell.” He held out his hand to shake, which Virgil accepted awkwardly. “I’m Detective Wilson, I’m investigating the disappearance case of Roman Goldsberry.”

“Uh...hey.”

“If you would follow me this way, I will take you to my office and we can begin.”

Virgil shrugged, “Alright.”

Logan led him down a thin hallway full of offices. They all had frosted windows with various names of (what Virgil assumed to be) other detectives printed into them. At the far end of the hallway, Logan stopped at a door titled Detective Wilson, opening the door and motioning Virgil to go in first.

The room was decently small. There was a two person table in the middle, but on the side was a computer with two monitors and a cheap swivel chair. The place was so organized Virgil felt embarrassed for his own room, even if the detective couldn’t possibly know what it looked like.

Logan sat down at the table and gestured for Virgil to sit across from him. Virgil did so hesitantly, crossing his hands in his lap to try to keep some level of composure. The detective seemed hardly fazed. All he did was take a recorder off of his computer desk and set it at the table, pressing play and bringing out a pen and notepad as well. “I record all my interviews in their entirety for legal reasons. I hope you don’t mind me pausing to take notes as well.”

“No, I don’t…” Virgil started picking at his fingernails, “Though I’ll admit, I have no idea how any of this works.”

“It’s alright, I hardly expect you to. I’m only going to ask you questions about your encounter with Roman. I’ll try to make this as quick and precise as possible so not to waste both our time.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Lay it on me.”

“In your call to my office, you said that you were the last person to see Roman before he disappeared,” Logan said, “Could you restate why you think that?”

“On the missing poster, it says he was last seen at his house on October 2nd. I met him at four in the morning on October 3rd.”

Logan nodded to himself and scribbled something in his notepad. “Where were you when you spoke to him?”

“Only a few blocks from my apartment. I think it was like...Washington Road where we met up. Then me and him walked for a couple blocks before I turned back to go home.”

“Do you remember the street you last saw him on?”

“No idea. I only know we were near a Walmart.”

Logan made more notes. “Alright. Now, for precautionary measures, let’s talk Roman’s behavior that night. Was there anything about his behavior that struck you as odd? Perhaps he seemed paranoid, or generally on edge?”

Virgil shook his head. “He actually seemed pretty chill to me. He said hi to me first and called me handsome, then went on a dramatic rant about Disney World rides. I wouldn’t really call it paranoid.”

“What about any other unusual behavior that might not strike as paranoia to you? Anything you considered to be upset emotions?”

“I mean…” Virgil thought back to his conversations with Roman. “...He kinda had a lonely look in his eyes, you know? Like, he kept laughing with me and acted all dramatic and stuff, but he looked like he had something on his mind deep down.”

Logan looked up from his notepad with a quizzical expression. “Did he tell you about anything bothering him?”

“I mean…” Virgil went back into his memories. Roman didn’t mention much about himself at all, other than he was an actor.

...Wait.

Wait a fucking minute.

Virgil smacked his hand on the table so suddenly that even the detective seemed surprised. Virgil’s eyes widened in shock as he ran a hand through his hair. “Scratch that. Scratch everything about him not acting weird, he was acting weird as fuck.”

Logan actually scribbled something out on his notes. “How so?”

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice this before- He was all over the place! It didn’t seem weird at the time because I thought he was flirting, but he was doing the weirdest shit!”

“Elaborate, please. What makes you believe he was acting weird?”

“Everything! First, he told me about his theater show that he was supposed to star in, but then he said he wouldn’t be able to make it because of ‘personal reasons’. He invited me to the show, which is kinda weird considering we just met but not really, but then he wouldn’t even tell me the show dates because he didn’t have time to? Don’t actors, especially the lead, have that shit memorized? How hard is it to say ‘Oh, it’s on Saturday at these times’? It’s not like he left immediately after that either! We talked for at least another five minutes, saying the dates really wouldn’t have taken that long!”

“Perhaps he wanted to get away before anyone noticed...” Logan murmured before writing more stuff in his notepad.

“Yeah, and honestly, that’s not even the weirdest thing. So we exchanged phone numbers, right? He told me immediately after that he wouldn’t respond to me for the next few days. I thought it was because he was busy, but then...well, you know what happened to him.”

“That I do. Was there anything else that may strike you as strange?”

“Well, he sent me a message to make sure we had the phone numbers right. Except he took a picture of himself and sent me that, which like...who does that for a first text message?” Virgil ran a hand through his hair. “I think the most eerie thing about it now was the caption he put under it. He said ‘don’t forget this beautiful face’.”

“May I see that photo and the message?” Logan asked.

Virgil pulled out his phone and opened it to Roman’s contact. It didn’t take long for him to scroll up, but once he did, he handed it to the detective. Logan’s eyebrows knitted together as he held his chin in deep thought.

“Did you ask about the injuries on his face?” He eventually asked.

“Uh, yeah. He said he tried to befriend a cat in an alleyway and it attacked him. I mostly believed it because he said he was tipsy.”

Logan wrote something in his notes and turned back to the photo. “Those are not cat scratches. A cat wouldn’t leave bruises or bust his lip like that.”

“What?” Virgil reached his body over the table to look again at the photo. Logan tilted the phone so he could see, but lo and behold, he was right. Roman’s face was covered in red splotches that signified more than just blood; a bruise was ready to form. The cut on his lip was too deep to be made by a cat, and the bottom of his left eye was beginning to swell too. Virgil hadn’t noticed it in the darkness, but now with it pointed out, it seemed so obvious.

“Not to mention, look at his hand on his chest in that pose. His knuckles are busted. The only way that happens is if he punched someone or something.” Logan pointed out.

“...Holy shit.”

“You also mentioned he said that he was tipsy, correct?”

“Yeah, he told me he had a couple drinks. I don’t know anymore than that, though.”

Logan wrote down more in his notepad. “Is that all that struck you as suspicious?”

“I mean…even in the moment, I thought something else he said was weird. I just thought he was being flirty.”

“And what would that be?” Logan asked.

“He pointed out the time to me before we left. He said to remember that it was 4:24 the last time I saw him. He said it was because it must be some kind of lucky number...but now I’m not so sure that was why.”

Logan seemed confused. “What do you think the real reason was, then?”

“...It’s almost like he knew. Like he knew he was gonna go missing and wanted to make sure I wouldn’t mess up the information.”

“And you have no idea why he did this?”

“No, no idea. I barely knew the guy anyway.”

“Understandable.” Logan wrote in his notepad again, this time a lot more vigorously before tearing off a section of the paper and handing it to Virgil. “That is the number for my mobile phone. I would highly appreciate it if you sent me a screenshot of Roman’s last messages to you, as well as the picture itself. If not, I may call you asking for it.”

“Uh, noted.”

“Is there anything else you would deem necessary to mention? Or has everything been covered?”

“I think we’re good now.” Virgil hesitated for a moment. “...Though, can I ask you a question?”

“Certainly. Go right ahead.”

Virgil picked at his thumb again. “...What do you think happened to him? About why he went missing?”

“What do I think?”

“Yeah.”

“Well…” Logan set down his notepad and looked Virgil in the eyes. “I’ve seen many missing people cases in my time. For the majority of them, they reappear after a week or so with a wild story to explain their behavior. Considering there seems to be no evidence of foul play or anything else to raise concern, I believe he got stressed and decided to escape for a while.”

“So he ran away?”

“It’s my most plausible theory. As of right now, I’m hardly concerned. Despite what the media says, most missing cases in adults don’t end in such unfortunate ways, let alone ones like the Goldsberry case, though that specific information is classified.”

“That makes sense...though, can I go now?”

Logan nodded. “You may. Though I do want those pictures as soon as possible. And if you come across anything else, you have both my office number and mobile.”

Virgil stood up as Logan held the door open for him after turning off the recorder. “I do appreciate your help, however.”

“Uh...yeah, thanks.” Virgil walked out and made his way down the hallway, out of the precinct. Logan sighed as he closed the door, sitting back in his swivel chair and looking up at the roof.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. When he pulled it out, he saw two messages on his lockscreen:

Unknown sent two photos

Unknown: This is Virgil, here you go

Logan smiled to himself. That was fast.

He’d look more carefully over the photo later, but right now he was more concerned about the locations Virgil had given him. Considering Roman was apparently tipsy that night, Logan had a new theory that he’d gotten into some trouble at a bar and was lying low for a while. Who knew, depending on how crazy of a drunk he is, maybe he got lost trying to run away from home and ended up in the countryside.

It was a very loose theory, but the only thing that made this case concerning was the distressed brother that kept blowing up his phone asking for updates. The facial injuries were somewhat concerning, and Roman apparently knew he wasn’t going back home, which was also concerning to an extent if Logan wasn’t so certain he’d run away. Other than that, Roman was an adult male with no history of mental disorders (other than past grief counseling) or physical disabilities. Just like he told Virgil, people like Roman come back within a week and all is well.

Logan pulled up a map of the city on his monitor, zooming into Washington Road and seeing the possible paths Roman and Virgil could have taken. It was possible Roman’s case could have foul play. His family certainly expected it, but a hunch is nothing compared to evidence. And as of right now, their evidence pointed to confusing, not to foul play.

There are certainly suspicious parts in this case, but there’s hardly any evidence at all for anything. Up until now, the biggest lead I had was the last time Roman was seen by his brother, which still pointed to nothing. The only believable theory is that Roman’s absurd work overload ended in him running off to take a break with no warning.

Which was certainly more realistic than the drunk theory.

Logan noted the street name he believed Roman may have departed with Virgil on. A couple blocks from Washington Road, there was a rather large Walmart on the curb. He took a note to ask the city for surveillance footage by tomorrow.

However, Virgil did say that he took a strange note of the time and told Virgil not to forget it. If he wanted to get away, he wouldn’t have made such a big deal over that.

Or maybe he really was being flirtatious? But who flirts like that?

It was all perplexing. There was almost no evidence for anything, let alone on Roman’s whereabouts. He needed something more than this, something that tells more of the story…

Wait.

...The laptop!

Logan practically jumped out of his chair to head down to the other detective offices. He’d almost forgotten about the laptop! Roman’s laptop was currently with his fellow detective (and friend) Carrie Merchant, who’d been working to see if the data on it could be restored.

It was another item that could have either been evidence or something completely unrelated. Roman’s phone was nowhere to be found (most likely still on him), but his laptop could have information on where he went. All it took was a search through his apps, folders, and search history.

Except there was one problem. When they took the laptop in as evidence, everything from it had been wiped clean. When it was turned on, it was like purchasing a new laptop and opening it for the first time. Not even Roman’s name was on it anymore.

Carrie had volunteered to spend the next few hours trying to restore it. Considering she was infinitely better at computers than Logan could ever be, he was perfectly fine with this.

Before he could open the door to Carrie’s office, the door almost smacked him in the face as it suddenly opened. Logan pulled back just in time to see Carrie on the other side, pushing open the door with her foot and paying more attention to tying her hair up than she was where she was going. When she looked up to see Logan, she smiled and clapped her hands together. “Perfect, just the guy I’m looking for!”

Logan fiddled with his tie. “I assume you were looking for me as well?”

“Yup. I’ve got an update on the computer.”

“Did you restore it?”

“Not at all! The whole thing’s busted. I think it’s just a fruitless effort.”

Logan blinked.

“However,” she continued, “I do have something else. And you really need to see it.”

Carrie led Logan into the office and sat down at her computer. “What is it?” Logan asked.

“I think we need to start treating this case as a kidnapping; maybe even a murder.”

“Explain, please?”

Carrie pulled a flash drive out of her computer and showed it to Logan. It was dark red with a sparkly gold crown painted on the side, which was absolutely not her style. “The laptop was a total bust. I tried everything I knew and looked all over the Internet for ideas, but it was wiped clean thoroughly. However, in the disk compartment there was a hidden note.” She plucked a sticky note off her desk and showed it to Logan:

Get my red flash drive. It’s inside my desk drawer.

Carrie didn’t acknowledge Logan’s confusion, only plugged the flash drive back into her computer and let the files open. “His brother let me search through his room again and grab this. I brought it back here and just got done searching through it. Everything on it is wiped clean except for this.”

Logan looked at the file she was pointing to on her screen with the mouse. “It’s a video.”

“Yeah. There’s honestly no way I can explain this. It’s...really disturbing. It reminds me of a horror movie, the ones where they find footage and weird shit happens in it.”

“Play it.”

Carrie clicked on the video and let it load.

It was a video of Roman at his computer desk. He fumbled with the tilted screen for a while to get the seemingly perfect angle, but then darted his head around the room as if looking for something. He paused for a moment before jumping and looking around again. Roman’s eyes were full of unshed tears as he gazed at the monitor in horror.

“...Do you hear that?” He whispered, “I’m not losing my mind. I know it’s real. I’ve been hearing it for weeks.”

Logan looked at Carrie quizzically. “Just keep watching.” She said.

“I know it’s in here. I’ve torn this whole place upside down looking for it but I can’t find it!” Roman looked around the room again. “It’s a camera. It’s watching everything I do.”

Roman bolted up from his seat and walked to the background to open his bedroom door. He looked on both sides of the door before closing and locking it again, but still stood in the background looking around his room.

He turned his back up against the door and slid down the wall, holding his head in his hands ready to cry. “Stop it! Stop watching me, I know you’re in here!”

“...What the fuck…?” Logan muttered, frowning at the laptop screen.

“I can’t take it anymore! What do you want from me!? Leave me alone! Please, just leave me alone! I’m sorry!”

Roman was outright wailing now, covering his ears with his hands so tightly that his hands were turning white. In between sobs he would mumble something unintelligible, curling in on himself more and more as the seconds passed.

Then, the front door of the house opened loud enough for Roman to jerk back up to his feet. “Roman, I’m home!” Someone called out.

Roman ran to the computer and rubbed the tears out of his eyes. If he wasn’t such a beautiful crier, someone would have noticed his previous sobbing almost instantly. “Welcome back!” He yelled.

Roman turned to shut the recording off, then the video ended.

Logan’s eyes were wide with horror. “...Holy shit.”

“I’m telling you, it’s terrifying.” Carrie replied.

“It seems like he’s showing signs of psychosis, maybe? It is more likely to show in males, and he’s in the prime age to start showing symptoms. Having beliefs of being watched happens in persecutory delusions.”

Carrie hummed. “I thought the same thing too. But listen to it again.”

She turned the volume all the way up and replayed the beginning:

Roman paused for a moment looking around his room. Then, quiet but clear as day, the sound of a mechanical whirring was heard from the background.

Roman jumped. “...Do you hear that?”

Carrie paused the video. “It sounds like a camera zooming in. And that’s not the only time you hear it in the video.”

She fast forwarded the video to when Roman stood up. Once again, a mechanical whirring can be heard.

She fast forwarded again. Roman closed the door, and the mechanical whirring was heard. “Stop it!”

Carrie paused the video before Roman could begin screaming again. “I don’t think it’s psychosis. I know laptop audio isn’t exactly the greatest, but that’s not a usual sound you hear a TV or computer make. Something’s in that room, and it’s built to spy on him.”

“Do you think it’s a stalker?”

“I’d be surprised if it wasn’t.”

Logan put his face in his hands. “Well...between this and what Blackbell told me, this case has become a lot more serious.”

“Blackbell?” Carrie asked.

“Virgil Blackbell. He called my office, and apparently, he was the last person to see Roman before he disappeared.” Logan opened his phone to the photos Virgil had sent him, then handed it over to Carrie. “He only realized Roman was exhibiting strange behavior when I asked him about it. He didn’t seem paranoid, but Blackbell theorized that Roman knew he was going to disappear before he did. It appears that he was taking precautionary measures to make this investigation easier. Roman sent him that photo of himself under the guise of testing if their phone numbers were exchanged correctly.”

“Who beat him up?”

“No idea. He told Blackbell that a cat scratched him when he tried to befriend it while intoxicated.”

“That’s a load of horse shit. Did his brother mention him getting in a fight before he disappeared?”

Logan shook his head. “I could ask him again, but considering he’s told me lots of useless information about Roman’s life, I doubt he would skip over something like that. Plus, those injuries look new.”

“But if he got in a fight, then got kidnapped a few hours later, are the injuries actually connected?”

“I’m unsure, however, I still think it’s important enough to take note of. I want to contact the city for security camera footage at the time Roman was last seen and see if we can track him. I have a general location of where he and Blackbell parted ways.”

“You gonna contact the brother to search through his room too? Roman wasn’t able to find the camera, but maybe we can.”

“I would like to. I’ll write up a report and do that first thing in the morning.”

Carrie smiled. “Sounds like a plan. After all, this is your case, not mine. I’m just helping you out.”

She handed Logan the flash drive as evidence, which he took gratefully. “I do appreciate your assistance. It would have taken me much longer to find this without you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now scram, I have my own reports to file and I still need to take my lunch break.”

Logan smiled and left Carrie’s office without another word, looking at the flash drive in his hand as if it held the secrets of the universe.

Roman left this behind for a reason. He left that note in the disc compartment so we could find it before anyone else did.

Logan took a turn and walked back to his office. Virgil’s right. Roman did know something was going to happen before it did. So why didn’t he contact authorities?

Maybe he thought the stalker would find out he did, and then kill him before anyone could come and help.

...Or maybe he figured it was too late for him.

Logan sat at his desk and pulled up a document to begin writing. Roman Goldsberry missing person case. Foul play is heavily possible.

He tilted back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a moment. Whatever happened, one thing is for certain.

This kid got himself into a lot of trouble.

***

When Virgil opened the door to his apartment, the first thing he did was collapse onto his couch and groan.

Thank God it was over now. He didn’t have to worry about detectives or missing people ever again. Of course he hoped Roman made a safe journey back home and wasn’t actually hurt, but Virgil barely knew the guy! They talked for thirty minutes and exchanged phones, it’s not like they were close friends or anything!

Besides, Virgil really wasn’t cut out for this. Missing people stress him out enough when he’s never met them before, but he actually saw Roman minutes before he went missing. That was too close for comfort.

He wished the best for the guy and his family, but Virgil had his own worries. He needed to pay rent, leave enough money on the side for testosterone, and pass his last year of college. Solving a mystery wasn’t exactly on that list.

If Roman’s alive, I’ll pay him a visit when he comes back. It’s the least I can do.

The door to the apartment slowly opened. “Virgil?”

Virgil shifted his head out of the couch cushion to look at the door. Elliott had come home; they were wearing more masculine and less noticeably emo clothes than normal, which already struck Virgil as odd. However, if the look in their eyes was anything to go by, then today had been rough.

“Hey, Elliott. Don’t mind me, I’m just merging with the couch.” Virgil joked.

Elliott smiled, but based on how they were curling in on themself, it wouldn’t be so easy to cheer them up. “How was today?”

“Decent, I guess. I got to talk to a detective and skip class, which was as fun as you think it was.”

“...A detective? Why?”

“You remember Roman?”

“That weird guy you met in the middle of the night and somehow thought was cute?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Virgil squished his face back into the couch. “But you won’t fucking believe what happened.”

“Did he text you back?”

“Nope. But apparently he went missing after we talked.”

Elliott’s eyes widened as they scooted Virgil’s face to the side to sit on the couch. “...What?”

“He went missing. Straight up vanished off the face of the Earth. It looks like I was the last person to see him, so I talked to a detective about him.”

“Holy crap.”

“Yeah, it’s weird as shit. But that’s all I can do about it.” Virgil shifted to lay his head on Elliott’s thigh. “What about you though? You seem pretty depressed.”

Virgil felt Elliott freeze. “...I think we might need to get a third roommate.”

Virgil sprung up from Elliott’s lap. “What? Why? We only have two bedrooms, they wouldn’t even be able to sleep anywhere.”

“I mean, I can share my room so long as they’re not overly messy. We can make do.”

“You didn’t answer my other two questions, my gender-neutral dude.”

Elliott sighed. “...I won’t be able to afford rent in time again. Or any food. So I’ll be mooching off of you again.”

“What-”

“And yeah, it’s really annoying, trust me, I know. I don’t like taking all your money either, which is why I think a third roommate would be able to help us. Your rent would go down and so would mine-”

“Elliott.”

Elliott stopped their ranting long enough to look Virgil in the eyes. “Why won’t you be able to pay rent? I thought with your new job, you were becoming more stable.”

Elliott sighed. They stared at the floor for a while before putting their head in their hands, digging their palms into their eyes to keep the distress at bay. “...I owe Mitch fifteen hundred dollars.”

Virgil jumped off the couch entirely. “What!? Bullshit! He’s just trying to manipulate you again, you can’t just give him fifteen hundred fucking dollars!”

“But I do owe him it, Virge! I still haven’t paid him back my rent when we lived together, and he’s so pissed about it he’s ready to take me to court! And fifteen hundred dollars is a lot cheaper than a good lawyer!”

“I still call bullshit, considering how much that bitch mooched off your money when you were together, he should just call it even.”

“Yeah, I get it, he’s an abusive prick. But I want him off my back so bad and I’m sick of him harassing me over it. Half of my next couple checks are going to him, so I basically have nothing to live off for the next month. But at least then he’ll leave me alone.”

Virgil stuffed his hands in his pockets. “...And there’s nothing you can do to convince him to bring it down?”

“It used to be two thousand, Virgil. Fifteen hundred is him bringing it down.”

“...Shit.”

“I know you really don’t like the idea of sharing a house with a stranger, but maybe if we look really hard to find someone we both trust then things can be easier.”

He didn’t want to do it. He really didn’t want to do it. Things have always been him and Elliott, and there was no telling what roommate might end up popping in. Would they also never pay? Not respect their boundaries? What if they were transphobic?

There were far too many things that could go wrong. Virgil had spent so much time getting Elliott comfortable with him again after they broke up with Mitch. Some stranger was not going to ruin that for them.

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “No, it’ll be fine. I’ll just...take up my mom on her favor to give me some money. I don’t like her paying me, but if we need it, we need it.”

Elliott sighed, so tired and defeated. “I’m really sorry, Virgil.”

“Don’t be, just...let me call my mom, okay? I’ll call her and see what we can do. If things get really bad then we can think about a roommate, but I’d rather try this first.”

Elliott swallowed back unshed tears. “Yeah...yeah, you do that.”

If Virgil didn’t know any better, he would sit next to his friend instead and comfort them as best he could. But Elliott always shut down when they were upset (especially after the bastard), and really, all they needed was some sense of security. If he could provide that, then they’d both be okay.

Virgil locked the door of his bedroom and picked up his phone. He was seconds away from pressing call on her contacts before he spotted the paper on his bed.

The missing person poster. The photo of Roman, smiling so wide without a care in the world. The face of a man that no one would guess would go missing until he had.

Virgil lowered his phone for a moment to look back at the poster. He really hadn’t given it much of a look-over, honestly. All he took note of was the name, photo, date and number on the bottom. But missing posters always had more than that. It had his height, weight, age, hair and eye color, as well as where he was last seen (which now needed to be updated from “at his house” to “some random street”). But then, right under the phone number was another number.

10,000 dollar reward for anyone who knows his whereabouts.

...Well, Virgil did know where he was in the middle of the night, which helped with the case some. But he doesn’t know where Roman actually is.

...But if I find out, then those ten thousand bucks will be mine. It could pay mine and Elliott’s rent for a whole year and then some.

And Elliott wouldn’t have to worry.

Virgil looked between his mom’s contact and the poster. He hated asking his mom for help because it felt like he was mooching off her, and the reward could pay for a hell of a lot more than his mom could ever dream of helping with. All he had to do was put in some detective work with a decent amount of patience.

It was tempting. Really selfish. But also really fucking tempting.

Virgil looked back at his phone. His mom would be so willing to help, and he could put this whole stress of Roman behind him. But on the other hands, it’s fucking ten thousand dollars.

...It was a stupid idea. It may have had Elliott’s wellbeing in mind, yet it was also selfish. But Virgil hadn’t had financial security since senior year, and every dollar helped. Also, it’s not like it was unfair. If he found Roman, no one would argue that he didn’t deserve it.

Virgil closed out of his contacts. It’s so stupid.

… But fuck it. It’s worth a shot.

Virgil sat on his bed and tried to think. How do you go about finding a missing person? What’s the first step?

Well, first off, he needed to find out the story. He needed to see if Roman was the kind of guy someone would want to disappear, or if he was loved enough to be held for ransom. Or maybe even just the kind of guy to want to run away from all his problems.

And the only way to find that out was from people who actually knew him.

But how do you track down the family of a guy you barely know?

...The Internet. Everything is on the Internet.

Virgil opened a tab on his phone’s search engine and googled Roman Goldsberry. If there wasn’t a paper on his disappearance where they ask a family member about him, then maybe the good old trackers that post everything about you will have something to say about it.

Lo and behold, something did pop up with Roman’s name. And it was infinitely better than Virgil could have imagined.

Virgil clicked on an article with a very interesting title: Goldsberry Brothers Join Forces for Special Valentine’s Day Sale.

“A brother, huh?” Virgil said to himself.

He clicked on the article and began to read the first paragraph:

Love is in the air at this time of year, where everyone scrambles to get the perfect gifts for significant others before the dreaded 14th! Although husbands may be spending too much money on romantic dinners for their wives, businesses take this as the perfect opportunity for sales. The US alone spends 20 billion dollars every year on different Valentine’s Day themed presents. But this year, the state favorite candy store “Wish Upon A Sweet” owned by Patton Goldsberry has teamed up with a floral shop popular in the candy chain’s hometown; owned by his brother, Roman Goldsberry.

...Roman owned a flower shop?

The fucking candy store guy was his brother?

Wish Upon A Sweet was one of the most popular candy stores in the state. Virgil’d gone there plenty of times since the chocolate single-handedly cured his depression, but he would have never pegged Roman to be related to the owner.

It’s a small world after all, Virgil thought.

But there was no time to be worried about candy. He had the name of the brother, now he needed to find a way to contact him.

Virgil went back to his browser and looked up Patton Goldsberry. Of course the website for the candy chain popped up, but Virgil wanted more than that. Instead, he clicked on a website built to find people that had all kinds of information on it.

And there, right above a personal phone number, was Patton Goldsberry’s address.

...I’m taking this too far. Virgil looked around his room to make sure no one was watching him being an utter creep. This guy’s brother is missing, I can’t just show up to his house!

“...Unless I make it seem like I’m trying to console him…” Virgil felt the anxiety pang deep inside his chest. It was a stupid idea, but maybe if it seemed like he wanted to help and told Patton he had met Roman, maybe Patton would be more willing to talk. If Virgil played the part, he could get more information on this guy, and he could make progress.

It felt like such a dick move. But it was also ten grand on the line here.

Plus, I don’t have to only be there to get info on Roman. I can still be nice to him.

He doesn’t need to know.

Virgil stuffed his phone in his pocket and walked out of his room. Before he could go out the front door, Elliott called to him from the same position on the couch Virgil left them in.

“Where are you going?”.

“Change of plans.” Virgil said. “Trust me, I’ve got an idea.”

And just like that, Virgil was off to a stranger’s house.

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trans-advice · 3 years

Note

hey! so i went to a friend's house and he let me try on his binder and it was really awesome!!! it was a bit too big but it was still really nice to wear one for the first time. we talked a bit and apparently one of his siblings can help me get one, and i'm really excited but i wanted to know if y'all had some advice on washing it discreetly? i do my own laundry a lot, but i still got a black racerback both for comfort, medical reasons, and so it shows less and looks more like a sports bra (1/2)

so it should be alright if it ends up with the normal laundry as long as no one looks too hard, but i still wanted to see if y'all knew some ways of washing it without my parents knowing, and also some general stuff on how often i should wash it. thanks! (2/2)

---

As far as I know, you wash it with some soap (i'm not sure which kind) in a sink, and then you hang it to dry like inside a closet with the door closed for discretion.

If Any Of Our Readers Have Any Input, Please Share

Good Luck, Peace & Love,

Eve

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mermaidxatxheart · 4 years

Text

Dressed for Dinner

Alright, I know I promised a naughty one the other day, but things got away from me. So here it is. If you’re under 18, turn around right now. Go back. Don’t get me in trouble. Also, Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who celebrates! I hope you have a fantastic day with family and friends. Eat lots of good food for me :)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Word Count: 2790

Warnings: Smut. Doctor/Nurse kink, if you squint. Swearing, Oral (female receiving) sexy times. No angst, shocker, I know. Unprotected sex

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with your coworker for a while, no strings attached. He has certain plans for you after work one night.

“Don’t you think Doctor Barnes is gorgeous?” Emily drools, watching the surgeon from across the nurse’s station. “So....dreamy.”

“Sure, who doesn’t?” You shrug, barely glancing up at the man. He’s 6’1 of solid muscle and the way he fills out those scrubs is just beautiful.

“He doesn’t distract you?” She turns to look at you.

“If he distracts me, patients die. So, no.” You flip through the medical file in front of you, making notations.

“But he’s so...”

“If you say distracting, I’ll smack you.”

“Perfect?” She changes tactics and you snort.

“With that ego?”

“With that skill, and that ass? He can have that ego.” She gushes.

“You’re hopeless. Also, you have patients to check on. Shouldn’t you be going?”

“Fine. Party pooper.” She rolls her eyes and pushes off the counter.

“That’s me, Miss Boring.” You mutter under your breath.

“Who said you’re boring?” A deep voice says behind you, making you jump.

You turn to see James Buchanan Barnes leaning against the counter, arms and legs crossed as he smirks at you.

“I did. And don’t sneak up behind people, Bucky.” You say, turning back to your files.

“Am I allowed to disagree with your assessment?”

You snap the file shut and replace it in the binder. “You’re the Doctor. I’m just a nurse.” You start to walk away and he catches up easily with you.

“Do you know why I got into medicine in the first place?”

“To help people?” You guess, rounding a corner.

He snorts. “Yeah right. The nurses. I’ve always had a definite thing for nurses.”

You roll your eyes. “So original.” You snipe.

He pushes you into an on-call room and locks the door behind you.

“Hey!”

“Just shut up.” He pushes you against the wall and kisses you hard, his muscular arms wrapping around you and lifting you up.

“We can’t keep doing this.” You moan as he kisses his way down your neck.

“Why not?”

“We’re going to get caught.”

“That’d be fun. Let them watch.” He breathes against your neck.

You pull back and look at him. “You think you know a guy.”

He grins. “You don’t think so?”

“I think that for one day you can keep it in your pants.”

“But it likes being in your pants so much better.” He grins, kissing you again.

Shit, he’s a good kisser.

“You still owe me dinner for last night.”

He groans and sets you down. “Fine. Dinner? My place? And then cardio after.”

“If you’re nice, we can even do cardio before.”

“You certainly know how to get me.” He grins. “I’ll meet you at my place.” He presses you into the wall and kisses you like a man half starved. He leaves you breathless and slips out the door.

“Fuck me.” You mutter, taking a second to collect yourself.

Bucky left work before your shift was over, but that was fine. You don’t want people seeing you leaving together. So far, you both had maintained professionalism at work and no one was the wiser that you had been sleeping together for months.

You wanted it to stay that way.

You drove to your place, took a quick shower and changed into your sexiest lingerie. Remembering what Bucky had said about nurses, you change into a clean pair of scrubs and stuff other clothes into your duffle bag. You skip out to your car and make the long drive to Bucky’s place. You knock on his door and he yanks it open, pulling you inside.

“You kept me waiting.” He growls, pushing you against the wall in the hallway.

You don’t bother to reply, instead, wrapping your arms around his neck and deepening the kiss. He breaks away long enough to peel off your shirt and groans as he looks at you.

“Why don’t you wear these at work?” He fingers the strap of your bra.

“Because you’d never let me leave the on-call room.” You roll your eyes, shimmying out of your pants.

He steps back and watches with a sigh. “It’s really not fair how gorgeous you are.”

“Are you going to stand there and whine or are you going to fuck me?”

He grins and scoops you up over his muscular shoulder. “Since you asked so nicely.”

“You’re such a Neanderthal.” You mutter, but that doesn’t stop you from admiring the view or the way his muscles move under you.

He dumps you on his bed and strips in probably what’s record time. Jesus, he’s beautiful. Solid muscle corded under his tan skin. Broad shoulders that you can’t help but cling to as he drives you higher and higher, leading down to narrow, powerful hips. Just thinking about how they pull back and snap forward into you already has you wet. And don’t even start about what’s hanging between his legs. Some guys just get all the genetic gifts, life isn’t fair like that.

He grabs your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed, lowering himself to his knees.

“I thought-” you start, looking down at him.

“You thought I just wanted a quickie?” He grins, slowly peeling the lace off you.

“It’s hardly quick with you.”

He laughs, draping your legs over his shoulders. “I enjoy your reactions to all the skills I have to offer. Also, you’re delicious, and I’ve been drooling about this all day.” He hooks his arms around your thighs, spreading your lips.

You thought you were prepared for his touch; that he’d start slow, but you should have known-he never does as you expect.

He licks once from your slit to your clit, making you moan before he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks.

“Oh, fuck!” You gasp as his intensity. You feel him grin as he starts flicking his tongue across it fast. You’re writhing on the bed, grinding against his mouth and panting. He knows exactly what he does to you. Your fingers twine in his long hair as he switches sensations. He lets your clit go with a pop and runs his flat tongue over it, lapping at it. The difference between fast and slow is agonizing.

Sex has never been this good. All your other partners have been takers. Bucky is definitely a giver and he learned your body quickly. He knows when you’re close, he knows exactly where your sensitive spots are.

You have never had to fake anything with him.

Added bonus, your ‘dates’ consist of dinner at home and insanely great sex.

You’re his rebound, and that bugged you at first. But then you realized you got the benefits of dating without any of the fighting or hassle.

Just as he’s about to push you over the edge, he lifts his head. “Do you wanna take a break?” He’s grinning at you and you could just punch him.

“Why the fuck would I want that?”

He gives a cheeky shrug and takes you right back to the edge. He fluctuates between fast and slow, making you whine before giving you his all. His mouth is hot and needy as he sucks your clit, humming around it like a vibrator. You arch off the bed, hips bucking as you crash over the edge, crying out loudly.

He slows down with you, waiting until you’re ready before pulling his head away. “Know what I like about you?” He starts, crawling over top of you before rolling to the side.

“I’m afraid to even guess.” You reply breathlessly.

“You don’t talk when you’re cumming. Just gorgeous noises.” He grins, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Listen, if I can form words at that moment, you aren’t really doing your job, are you?” You laugh.

“Guess not.” He rolls over top of you. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s eat. I’ve worked up quite the appetite.”

“You weigh a ton.” You grumble.

“You never complain about me being on top.” He looks down at you.

“You’re usually doing something more distracting.” You press your lips against his shoulder, trying to push him off you.

“This isn’t distracting enough?” He teases.

You wiggle around, spreading your legs around his hips. “Not nearly as distracting as what I came over for.” You murmur, reaching down between your bodies to grasp his thick shaft.

He moans and pushes himself up, dragging your hand along his length. “Fine, but we’re eating naked.” He pulls you to your feet and your legs wobble slightly, still shaking from his efforts.

“Don’t we always?”

He turns you around so you’re facing away from him and he unhooks your bra. He slips his hands under the straps and slides it off your shoulders. He kisses along your neck, nibbling your ear as he cups your breasts. You lean back against him as he rubs his thumbs over your nipples.

“There, now you’re dressed properly.”

You snort and pull away, moving through his house to the kitchen. “What did you make for me?”

“Your favorite. Chicken parmigiana.”

“Ugh. Say it again. I love when you speak Italian.”

“After we eat. Otherwise you’ll jump me in here. And I went to a lot of work.”

“Fine.” Your stomach rumbles as he hands you a plate. “I never asked, where did you learn to cook?” You ask, grabbing a knife and fork.

“If you wanna eat, you have to cook. My dad was never a very good cook so I learned how so my sister and I wouldn’t starve.”

You take a seat and begin to eat, savoring his wonderful cooking. “Do you have surgery early tomorrow?” You ask as he sits next to you.

“Ten. You’re staying over, don’t even think you’re getting off that easy.”

“It’s usually pretty easy with you.” You smirk and he nudges your arm.

You finish eating and take your plate to the sink. You’ve been to his place plenty of times in the past few months, enough to feel comfortable. You head for the bathroom in the master suite.

When you emerge a few minutes later, the windows have been opened wide, letting in the cool sea breeze and the sounds of the waves crashing. Bucky is sprawled on the bed, one arm propped behind his head and his legs crossed at the ankles.

This is supposed to just be a no strings attached thing, but you can’t help but feel affection for the big man. He never fails to make you laugh, he can cook, the sex is amazing, and as far as you know, he doesn’t sleep around.

You cross the room and climb on the bed, straddling his thighs. His big hands rest on your hips and you lean forward, kissing him softly. His hands slide over your smooth skin to grip your ass, pulling you closer. You drag your fingernails over his scalp as he lines his shaft up with your slit.

You lower your hips, feeling his swollen head spread your lips and pop past your entrance with a satisfying pressure. You let out a soft moan against his mouth as you swivel your hips, lowering yourself nearly completely onto his shaft. He’s at the very end of your passage and there’s still over an inch to go. You’re breathing hard from the effort, hands braces against his deliciously broad shoulders.

“Fuck, woman. You are so tight.” He growls, kissing you hard.

You clench your walls around him experimentally. He moans and rocks his hips up, pushing past your cervix. Heat, burning pleasure sears across your body, igniting your nerves.

“Fuck.” You gasp.

“We’re about to.” He grins, holding you tight against his body, beginning to rock his hips up, thrusting into you.

You have a scathing reply ready, but his steady strokes take your breath away. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, panting heavily. He grips your ass, his long fingers dragging on your skin as he picks up his pace. Little mewls escape as he thrusts faster and faster. His rhythm is perfect, too perfect for you to even move.

Your inner walls flutter and spasm around him and he moans in your ear. The sound of his pleasure, of you giving him pleasure pushes you over the edge. You climax, head tipping back as your breath catches in your throat. He fucks you through it, the overwhelming pleasure freezing your body.

He slows, letting you catch your breath. “Still with me, gorgeous?” He brushes your hair back from your face. It clings to the sheen on your skin as you nod.

“Always.” You gasp.

He kisses you deeply, rolling you over so that he hovers on top of you. He holds himself off you so you don’t feel much of his weight, but you crave it.

You want all of him.

You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him deeper. You’re so full, stretching so much and you still want more. The sounds of the waves on the beach and his breaths in your ear and you’re lost in pure bliss.

He lowers himself to his elbows and you can feel his weight. He’s so muscular and fuck, he feels so good on top of you. His legs are tucked under your thighs as his hips snap forward faster and faster and he’s just as lost as you.

“Bucky.”

You don’t think you spoke, it’s not like you to be able to form words at a moment like this. Your eyes fly open and you look over his shoulder at the doorway, a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“I love you.” He breathes in your ear as you hear his name again.

You cling to his shoulders, legs locked tight around his waist, eyes trained on the door as a beautiful woman steps into the doorway. You gasp as he picks up the pace, bordering on blistering as he buries his face in your neck, pressing kisses everywhere he can reach.

“Fuck. I love you. How are you so perfect?” He moans, dragging loud moans from you as you stare at the woman.

She looks mortified but you can’t bring yourself to make Bucky stop. You can feel how close he is, you’re about to join him.

You turn your face to his, pulling his mouth towards yours. “I love you, too.” You gasp, kissing him.

His pace falters and within a few strokes he roots himself deep inside you, cumming with a growl. You can feel him pulsating as he pumps rope after rope inside, pushing you over the edge. You orgasm with a cry, your nails dragging on his muscular back as you arch into his chest.

“Bucky,” You gasp, tapping his shoulder, remembering the woman.

He follows your gaze and sighs. “Way to ruin my night.” He mutters. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He presses a lingering kiss to your lips before pushing himself off you. He grabs his boxers off the floor, pulling them on quickly before grabbing the woman by her arm and forcing her out the door.

You slide off the bed, grabbing his shirt and pulling it on before creeping to the door. You listen intently, wondering who she is. He certainly didn’t seem happy to see her.

“You have to stop showing up here like this. You broke up with me. You shouldn’t even have a key anymore.”

“Who is she?” The woman asks.

“None of your business. Your only concern is driving home safely.”

“Do you really love her? Or is that just something men say when a young pussy feels good?”

“Not that it matters for you, but yes, I do. Didn’t plan on it, but there you have it. Now, will you leave so I can go fuck her again?” He snaps. There’s a slight pause and he snorts. “She doesn’t really like to share. I’m all hers now.”

“Fine. Call me when you get bored of her.” The sound of the door shutting reaches you and you hurry back to the bed, your heart swelling. You lay across the bed on your stomach, pretending to examine your nails.

“How much of that did you hear?” He asks and you fake jump, turning to look over your shoulder.

“I heard nothing.” You say and he snorts, climbing back onto the bed.

He lays the right way and gestures for you to join him. You crawl over and rest against his side, your head on his chest.

“I know you were listening.” His fingers are light on your bare arm, tickling you. “I meant every word.”

You lean up and kiss him. “So did I. Let me know when you’re ready for round two. I can go all night with you.”

He groans and pulls you on top of him. “Good.”

Tags:

@everythingisoverrated @dsakita @shreddedparchment @bitsandbobsandstuff @after-avenging-hours @alexblrus @thinkingsofamadwoman @i-dont-want-to-be-called @thefridgeismybestie @fortheloveofallthatsholy @crazychaotic @pleasureoftheguiltiestvariety @redstarstan @septic-boye @justreadingfics @themistsofmyavalon @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @wkemeup @thiccbinch @glide-thru @moli1497 @ellaenchanted91 @part-time-patronus @janeyboo @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @thirstybitchqueen @xxloki81xx @stuckonjbbarnes @browngirlmagic

#marvel #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #romance #writing #writing things #mermaidxatxheart

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dmitri-writes · 5 years

Text

Prom~Logince

INFO -this is shitty i'm so sorry -i wrote like 3 different versions of this bc i wasn't happy with it -requested by a wattpad reader -trans ftm logan -nb critic and remy -remus is wearing a dress

TRIGGER WARNINGS -transphobia -sexism

***

Logan wanted to go to Prom, he really had. Especially when his boyfriend Roman asked him in such an extravagant way. He had Patton help him pick out a nice suit and everything. But Patton also told him he shouldn't wear a binder since he'd be moving around a lot. Logan saw his point and wore a sports bra instead. He thought it was okay at Patton's house but after walking in with him, seeing people look at him with slight confusion or disgust... He doesn't feel okay anymore.

He tries to brush it off and have fun with Roman. He talks to some people he knows like Virgil, Remus, Dee, and Remy. He slow dances with Roman in a corner, and watches him dance with friends to more upbeat songs. While Roman is dancing to a song Dee requested with him, someone else slides up to Logan. "What's up girlie? You know girls aren't supposed to wear suits right?" Logan glares, trying to seem more confident than he is. "I am not a girl," He says with the deepest voice he can muster, "And girls and women can wear whatever feels most comfortable to them."

The guy gets angry and balls his fists, glaring harder. "Don't try that fake deep voice shit, you weirdo. Everyone knows girls should wear dresses. You shouldn't have come if you were just gonna look like a tranny." Logan tenses at the word. The guy berates him more and Logan's eyes start to water. Some of the guy's friends had apparently heard the commotion and came over to help. The louder they get the more Logan feels eyes on him. He panics and runs, past Roman and Deceit and past Patton and Virgil and past Remy and Remus.

He made it into the only gender-neutral bathroom on the second floor in a little less than five minutes, tears falling the entire way. A minute later, a knock is heard on the door. "Logan. It's me." Roman. Logan unlocks the door, opening it only slightly. "Hey. Can I come in?" Roman's voice is much quieter than it usually is. Logan opens the door all the way and shuts and locks it as soon as Roman is inside. "Are you okay?" Logan shakes his head, unable to lie as the tears just get worse. Roman gently puts a hand on Logan's shoulder and pulls him closer as he deems it safe.

Logan ends up closing the gap first and hugs Roman tightly, burying his face in his chest. Roman doesn't care about his suit getting wet as he rubs circles into Logan's back. "Remus is dealing with those villains. Apparently, they tried saying something about him and his dress too." Logan eventually calms down, and they both sit on the floor, backs to the door. They can hear the music still going downstairs. "Thank you." "Of course." After a minute, they hear Remy on the microphone, muffled through the floor.

"It's time to vote for prom royalty!" Logan turns to Roman, "Go, you shouldn't miss getting prom king for me." Roman shakes his head and pulls Logan closer, "You're my king, I can't win without you." Logan smiles at the cheesy statement, kissing Roman's cheek. "Let's just listen then." After the voting period, the mic person changes to Emile. "I'm happy to announce, the winners are not kings or queens, but royalty, Remy and Critic!" Roman smiles, "Cri definitely convinced everyone that they look the best."

"Thank you Picani, but I'd like to give an honorable mention." Logan and Roman are both shocked, Critic giving someone else a mention when they're the winner? "Logan and Roman looked stunning this evening, wherever they ran off too, I hope they can hear this, love you kings!" Logan and Roman burst out in laughter, smiling. Remy agrees through the mic and the two kings hiding in the bathroom smile at each other, kissing again. "We're the cutest kings around," Roman says, kissing Logan's hand.

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transgenderteensurvivalguide · 5 years

Note

Does the 8 hour rule for binding change if I’m wearing a fursuit? Genuinely asking because I’ve just started work on a fursuit as a project and i plan on wearing it out, however I don’t feel comfortable leaving the house without a binder on. Thanks

Lee says:

Hmm. Obviously, you shouldn’t be binding longer if you’re wearing a fursuit- but I don’t think there’s any particular agreed upon number of hours that you should wear it for in this situation. I’d say be cautious of dehydration because it might be hot (also see this post about binding in hot weather) and listen to your body.

Try to take a scheduled quiet moment away from the action every few hours- it can help to set an alarm on your phone so you’ll be reminded to do this, and if you set your alarm to your ringtone then you can pretend you’re taking a phone call and need to go somewhere quieter if you need an excuse, or you can say you have to go to the bathroom.

Sometimes when you’re hanging out with friends (or doing whatever furries do in their outfits- parades? conventions?) and you’re caught up in all the excitement you can miss cues from your body. I know that I personally have sensory issues because I’m on the spectrum, and I don’t always realize when something is feeling “off” but by the time I get home and I’m able to relax and then notice it then it’s too late because the damage has been done.

Even if you don’t have those issues, it’s still good to be able to take a moment for a few deep breaths and a check in with your body to see if you need to take the binder off or not.

If you do need to take your binder off, you should have something to change into with you. You can carry a bra, maybe a comfortable sports bra, in a bag to change into in a bathroom. You could get a mini-sized backpack, a drawstring knapsack, a computer bag, a messenger bag, or a fanny pack. I usually carry a small one-strap backpack (like this). If you plan on carrying a bag in advance, you can theme it to match your outfit if you’d like, and maybe carry a water bottle in there too.

If your fursuit covers your chest/torso, then you may not need to wear a binder- you can probably get away with wearing a sports bra because nobody will be able to tell what’s under that suit, like how you never know what/who is inside a mascot which makes them kind of scary (is that just me?).

Our Binding FAQ has general guidelines on safe binding, so check that out as well.

Followers, does anyone have any tips gained through personal experience for anon?

Followers say:

marowreck said: Hey, from personal experience: do NOT bind while wearing a fursuit if you live in a hot climate, or at least avoid at all costs, and specially if it is a fullsuit. Even fursuits with good ventilation can get really hot. Seriously, a partial suit (paws, tail and head) is enough to make you sweat pails. You can, and will get clammy all over after a few minutes, and since heads (beginner’s, specially) tend to have poor ventilation youll just not be able to breathe at all. Without a binder on i could only manage to stay with my head on for half an hour at a time (got slightly dehydrated and i was dizzy by the time i finally took it off after 4 hours) in a place with ac. If it’s a fullsuit you can get some chest or body padding or something to mask of the bulge on your chest (and it looks stunning on digitigrades), though long fur is good enough to mask it. Id recommed using a good sports bra instead of a binder. No matter what you wear, you will be sweaty and hot, so just try to do everything possible to be comfortable.

knightofcaliginousrage13 said: If it’s a full-suit, definitely take frequent breaks(I know it’s tedious to take the whole thing off to remove your binder but better safe than sorry). If it’s a partial you should still take breaks, but they may not have to be as often. As Lee said, listen to your body, and maybe set reminders on your phone. Also never go suiting alone!! Make sure to have someone with you who’s not suiting to make sure you don’t bump into things or overheat(even if they’re not in the fandom, find a friend or family member who’s willing to carry water and other things for you). I also recommend buying a mini fan you can wear around your neck(or if you have the skill to do so, maybe install one in the fursuit head, but it’s kinda hard to do). You can get them on Amazon for around 10-15 USD(just search “necklace fan”). Stay safe and happy suiting! 💖🐾

cupcake-souls said: I would just suggest to really know your limits with binding+fursuiting before you go out somewhere with it! They get very hot very quickly and I’m not sure I would recommend binding in them if you don’t have a way to get the binder off immediately!

heartsbanegardener asked: said: You should already have someone dedicated as your handler to make sure you don’t bump into things. Maybe ask them to help you find quiet places or headless lounges(furry cons have dedicated spaces for fursuiters to chill out of sight from others). Also maybe develop a way to quickly let them know you need out. Speaking from personal experience with helping my own brother! Hope this helps!

guiltyidealist said: I would also be careful about overheating. As far as I know, both binders and fursuits are notorious for making their wearers much hotter than usual. I think it’s possible to install a fan inside of a fursuit, but that’s probably much more elaborate.

vivianthesiren said: I feel like if you padded the suit right you’d be able to go without looking like you have anything of a chest depending upon how big your chest is

#Lee says #fur suit #fursuit #furry #binding #binding in a fursuit #Anonymous #transgenderteensurvivalguide #trans #transgender

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jasperscreations · 5 years

Text

Out of Necessity

Chapter 3: Just Because He Trusts Me, Doesn’t Mean I trust Him

Summary: “So what happened, are you his girlfriend? Did you get in a fight? Do you think he’s cheating on you?” Harleen spouted out questions one right after the other, completely ignoring Edward’s protests to her presence.

Edward quickly realized she wasn’t going anywhere, until she’d gotten something out of him.“Boyfriend. I’m a boy.” He corrected sharply. “We’re.. On a break.” He lied, not sure how else to explain the situation. “I used to meet him outside. I’m not sure he even wants me there anymore.”

“Oh, sorry! Are you his boyfriend?” Harleen continued. “What happened between you two?”

“Oh, just a small spat, nothing big. I’m sure we’ll solve it, if I can just..” Edward paused, looking back out to the place where Jonathan was previously standing. “If I can just make myself talk to him…” He said finally.

Read on Ao3

Edward spent the next few weeks avoiding any place he’d ever seen Jonathan. He couldn’t bring himself to face him after running off, or letting himself stay at someone’s house for nothing in return. However, as the 3 week mark approached, he found himself coming to their usual spots and hiding around corners or in nearby cafes to see if Jonathan was looking for him.

He ducked inside the coffee shop just in time for Jonathan to walk up in front of it and stop. He watched carefully from behind the glass, analyzing his actions and counting. 10 minutes and 54 seconds so far, just standing there, checking his watch, looking around, searching-

“You must be pretty in love with that boy to be stalking him on such a near-daily basis.” A voice from behind Edward startled him out of his concentration.

He eyed the stranger up and down, taking in her looks. Pretty blonde hair that faded to bright blue, then to red at the ends, and a slightly thick, very shapely figure. All in all, she was beautiful, and annoying already. “And why is it your business?” Edward asked in a less-than-interested tone.

“Well, I take a class with him! I think we’re going for the same major. Name’s Harleen!” She said in a far too bubbly tone as she took a seat.

“As if I asked.” Edward muttered, looking back out the window, only to see that Jonathan was gone. “I never said you could take a seat, either.”

“So what happened, are you his girlfriend? Did you get in a fight? Do you think he’s cheating on you?” Harleen spouted out questions one right after the other, completely ignoring Edward’s protests to her presence. Edward quickly realized she wasn’t going anywhere, until she’d gotten something out of him.

“Boyfriend. I’m a boy.” He corrected sharply. “We’re.. On a break.” He lied, not sure how else to explain the situation. “I used to meet him outside. I’m not sure he even wants me there anymore.”

“Oh, sorry! Are you his boyfriend?” Harleen continued. “What happened between you two?”

“Well, communication is important! It’s the key to stable relationships. Good communication, and trust. You gotta trust that he wants to fix things, trust that he still wants you… And then ya just gotta communicate!” The way Harleen said it made Edward’s heart jump into his throat. Trust… Maybe he just needed to trust that Jon didn’t want to hurt him…

He realized Harleen had said something else, but now she was walking away. Edward had been too far into his own head to listen. She was probably just saying she had to go. It made sense, since she was now gone.

Edward blinked a couple times to himself, wondering what exactly had just happened. Their interaction seemed to only take seconds, not that he could have counted with her babbling, but he seemed to have been given valuable advice. But what did Harleen know of his situation?! Of what was going on! He couldn’t just trust Jonathan! They weren’t in a relationship, Jonathan had just let him into his house for a night. He couldn’t be trusted with such kindness. No one could. Edward shook his head to himself and finished his drink before walking back toward his new spot to continue his riddling.

Later in the evening, as the day grew to a close, Edward counted his money, hoping he’d have enough for at least a motel. He hadn’t been having as much luck with his scams lately, because word was getting around about him. It started to grow dark, and Edward decided he’d try for a different way to have a place to stay. He went into the bathroom of a Taco Bell and locked the door before opening up the small duffel he kept hidden during the day, and began to get undressed from his suit. He found what he was looking for, and got redressed in the new outfit.

Edward walked out into the streets once more, being sure to sway his hips, grabbing the attention of whoever was walking by. He decided to park himself near a bar, forcing himself not to gag at the thought of some drunk bastard getting his hands on him.

“Now wha’ssa pretty lady like you, doing hanging out at a place like this?” A man asked as he came out of the bar. He wasn’t too drunk, but drunk enough.

“Looking for somewhere warm to stay the night, dear.” He said in a feminine voice. “Wanna take me home?”

The man regarded Edward with a hungry look in his eye. “Don’t mind if I do, beautiful. Follow me.” He said, and lead Edward across the street to a familiar set of apartments. He hadn’t realized how close he’d wandered to Jonathan’s apartment, and scolded himself for being so oblivious. “Right up here, doll.” The man pulled Edward out of his thoughts as he opened a door, leading to a not too shabby apartment.

“Nice place,” Edward commented, “you bring girls home often?”

“Only when they’re’s pretty as you.” The guy slurred slightly. “So how much do you charge, puddin’?” He asked.

“Mmm, let’s say $200 for basic, $500 for kinky, and let me stay the night.” Edward demanded.

The guy’s nice demeanor suddenly changed. His shoulders were a little more straight, and his smirk a little more predatory. “Or, how about I fuck you like the whore you are, and you can stay alive for one more night.” He said darkly, and closed in on Edward quickly, grabbing him before he could run away.

---

Edward stumbled out of the apartment, tears streaming down his face. He was bleeding from multiple places, his clothes were torn, and his face was bruised to hell, as well as most of his torso.

As he got farther away, he wondered what he was going to do. He couldn’t go out again, he was too beat up and he had to get a patch job on his clothes… He couldn’t get a hotel since the sleazebag had stolen all his money… He continued to think as he ducked behind the apartments to reluctantly put a sports bra on, then his suit, and finally smear off what was left of his makeup. He looked up at the building, remembering that Jonathan lived here. It was late enough that he might even be home.

Edward shook his head. ‘No,’ Edward thought, ‘I can’t go through this twice in one night, and I know he’ll be mad for leaving without paying somehow for my stay…’ But where else did he have to go? He couldn’t sleep in an alley, not in this shape… He couldn’t even wear his binder. Edward sighed and rounded the corner, looking up at Jon’s door. His light was on, meaning he was home. He took a deep breath, and limped up the stairs, trying to ignore the pain in his lower regions.

He got up to Jonathan’s door and hesitated. What if he really was mad? What if he wanted something for the stay? Edward had no money, he could give Jon sex, but he was in no state to put himself through that twice in a night. Finally, Edward shook his head and turned to walk away, deciding he’d be better off with an alley. Just as he did, the door opened, causing Edward to whip back around.

Jonathan stared at Edward for 17 seconds before finally speaking. “Edward?” He finally said.

“Jon! I wasn’t- I was just- I didn’t mean to-”

“You’re hurt.” He interrupted Edward, then walked forward, towering over him. Edward took an involuntary step back. “Come inside. I have first aid.” Jon said, and turned back around, gesturing for Edward to follow.

Edward followed him inside, but stayed right inside the door, making sure he had an easy escape. He watched as Jonathan pulled a first aid kit out of the cabinet, then came towards Edward. “Sit on the futon. I’ll have better leverage there.” He said softly. Edward obeyed, not sure what else to do.

Jonathan knelt down in front of him, inspecting the damage. “Any injuries to your torso?” He asked.

“No,” Edward lied quickly, “None that needs patching up.” He corrected himself. It was a half-truth. There wasn’t much Jon could do about the cuts across his back from the cane, anyway.

Jonathan nodded, and got a bottle of rubbing alcohol out of the rather large kit. Edward tensed up, knowing how much that hurt. “I’ll be quick,” Jonathan explained, “quick swab, then I’ll wipe across it with a washcloth with water.” Edward nodded, and let Jonathan work, distracting himself by biting hard on his hand. It wasn’t the worst pain he’d ever been in, and therefore easy to distract from.

Once Jonathan finished, Edward watched him start to put things away, idly bouncing his leg. He seemed troubled, but Edward couldn’t tell why. Was it just worry for the injuries? Was he trying to figure out a way to tell Edward that he owed him for all this, and for last time they’d seen each other? Edward was ripped out of his thoughts by a long sigh from Jonathan.

“So what is it?” He asked.

“I-- what?” Edward asked, trying not to show how embarrassed he was by being confused.

“What did I do? What happened?” Jonathan asked. “I invite you into my home, and you suddenly run off for near three weeks. No contact, actively avoidin’ our meet-up spots. So what is it? Jus’ tell me so I can make it right.”

Edward shook his head. “No, no, it’s--” He cut himself off. He couldn’t tell Jonathan the truth! That could remind Jonathan that he wanted something out of Edward. Edward thought quickly, coming up with something viable. “It’s not your fault. Nothing you did, I simply had other matters to attend to. People were beginning to catch on to my riddling schemes, I needed another place to stake out.” He looked at Jonathan expectantly. 54 seconds before Jonathan answered, and in that 54 seconds, it was clear that Jonathan didn’t believe a word.

“Alright.” He drawled. “Well, assuming nothing has changed over the past three weeks, and you’re still homeless, would you like a place to stay again?”

“Uh… sure.”

“You can stay here as long as you need; come and go as you please, scope out other parts of town, but I want you to have a safe place to spend your nights, so I want you to stay here.” Jonathan explained. “Unless, of course, that wasn’t the issue.”

Edward swallowed hard. He knew it was only a matter of time now. Jonathan definitely wanted something… But now it was a riddle, and Edward simply had to find out what. “Alright, I’ll stay. I appreciate the offer.”

“Mmm.” Jon hummed, and turned to the kitchen. “Well, I was about to go out and get food for dinner, but seein’ as I can’t pay for two, I suppose I’ll make somethin’. ‘Fraid I don’t have much. Ramen, mac n cheese, or spaghetti.”

“Spaghetti sounds nice.” Edward answered. “I’m going to use the bathroom, is that alright?” He asked, and got a nod in return. Edward went into the bathroom and took off his bra to inspect the lashes from the cane, as well as the bruising. He found some vaseline to put on the lashes, which helped with the stinging, then quickly put it on before putting his shirt back on and joining Jon for dinner. That night, as Jon slept on the bed, Edward found himself silently crying until exhaustion got the better of him and he fell into a fitful sleep.

#edward nygma #jonathan crane #scriddler #scarecrow #riddler #dc #dceu #dcu #fanfiction #my writing #sorry about the long pause in writing #i've been... busy #and my life has been crazy #but finally #i've written another chapter #hope y'all like it

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randombtsprincessa · 5 years

Text

Asylum || 4

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Chapter: 01 02 03

Warning in-Chapter: Mentions of Abuse and Violence

I was so late…

It was one of those days when nothing seemed to go right. My alarm buzzed but I slept right through it, my roommate, Jennie banging on the door to wake me up so I could at least do something decent about myself before exiting the house. The hot water just wouldn’t settle at the right temperature so I had to take a nearly ice cold shower and to top it all off, Jennie had run off with the last amount of coffee that was present in the apartment. I had to buy some today.

My hair was up in a messy ponytail and I’d been too much in a rush to stop to grab a coffee from a cafe. So, clutching my binder to my chest, my backpack flying about behind me I raced through the campus.

Of course, as fate would have it, just one corner away from my class, where I could quietly bury myself in the back in the solitude of many students, I had to crash into somebody.

Papers flew everywhere, a large paper coffee cup, now empty rose up high in the air, as it emptied its contents right on top of me. Hot delicious coffee went everywhere; on my head, on my white hoodie, jeans and boots and binder of notes. I groaned, backing up immediately. I suppose I had to be grateful for the small mercies, the coffee hadn’t scalded me at least.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!”

I ran the bunched up end of my hoodie sleeve over my eyes to glare at the blind idiot.

He was already on the floor, quickly swiping up the scattered pages, his dark head bowed as he shook out some of the soaked pages, even blowing on one desperately.

I got on my knees too, stacking up the rest of the pages, keeping quiet, not trusting myself to open my mouth in case I started hurling insults at the boy.

He stood up first, his blue shirt and black jeans completely clean of any coffee. Why the hell did the universe hate me so much today?

“Here, they’re a little…um…” he was holding out the bundled notes out to me before he frowned at them. They were brown with the coffee, some of the scribbles illegible.

“Destroyed,” I snapped bitterly, making his eyes turn downwards in guilt again.

“I swear, I didn’t mean to run into you like that. I was just walking and I didn’t see you turn the corner…I’m really sorry.” He said again, still holding out the pages.

“Yeah well,” I grabbed the papers, slipping them into the binder. “My day’s done here, might as well go home to avoid any more catastrophes.” I sighed, turning away from him.

My shirt was completely done for. It was uncomfortably wet, sticking to my bra and stomach. I had to get rid of these clothes and I’d take a day long nap. Thankfully, I had my notes backed up on my laptop.

“Hey,” I turned to see the coffee guy catch up with me. “You can’t walk home like that. I live nearby. Borrow one of my shirts and I’ll give you a ride home.”

I blinked before examining him closely. He was cute, admittedly, dark hair parted neatly for the school day, small studs glittering in both earlobes.

“You’re not trying to hit on me, are you?” I asked finally.

His eyes widened before wildly shaking his head. “No, no! I just…I feel guilty for wrecking your day.”

“You didn’t wreck it. It was horrible since sun up.”

“Oh…so um…do you want that shirt and ride?”

I stared at him, watching as his eyes trailed pointedly to where I was cringing away from the wet fabric. His doe eyes were sincere, I decided finally.

“Fine, lead the way,” I said.

His face lit up immediately and I felt a pang. Damn was he cute, I thought. His lips parted to reveal and neat line of big teeth, turning up into a bunny smile. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“I’m Jungkook.”

“I’m Y/N.”

The sunlight was warm on my skin, slipping into my pores, soaking into the cool uniform.

My legs were out of the hard plaster casts now, and even though they still felt sore and unused and I had to carry around the clutch, it felt nice to be able to feel the flannel of my trousers or the cool of the water on my skin now.

The nurses had agreed that I needed to start being able to walk now, and that the ability of moving about by myself might be able to help me heal somehow. I didn’t understand the thought process but I wasn’t complaining.

The only new thing was that for the first time I was alone outside. Usually Yoongi and the other boys would be with me but this time around I had been let out by myself. It felt nice, peaceful even, the grass feeling soft under my palms.

Not for the first time, I wondered how it would’ve felt if Jungkook was here with me, his bunny smile and eyes which glimmered in child like excitement sometimes beside me as he chattered on about a new dance he’d learned or a new song he’d covered.

I smiled softly in remembrance, feeling a soft tug grow in my tummy; a sign of an impending attack of memory which was quelled by the new environment and medicines that fought with my body to make me cope.

I leant back, letting my weight lean on my open palms and closed my eyes as I methodically curled and uncurled my fists in the cool grass, a way of maintaining control over my body. According to Dr. Sihyuk, the slow motion of my hands made my mind focus on the stretch and lax of muscles, distracting it from impending episodes. I had taken it on reluctantly at first but soon found that it helped keep the painful memories at bay, making me concentrate on the now and present.

As I basked in the mild winter heat, I felt a shadow loom over me, blocking out the sunlight. I opened my eyes to see Namjoon standing over me, smiling softly. The sunlight behind him made it look like he was glowing and I smiled back.

“May I join you?” he asked lightly and I nodded, patting the ground beside me to indicate he could take a seat. As usual, he had a book in his hand as he folded his tall frame neatly beside me.

“You finally freed your legs?” he asked, laughing.

“Oh yeah, they feel much freed, but I will be properly freed when these go away.” I sighed, nodding my head towards the crutches lying next to me.

“Ah,” he smiled again before opening the book and immersing himself in it.

I kept mum for a few minutes before turning to study my companion. His blond hair was parted now, bangs falling into the tell tale dark eyes. His lips were pursed, eyebrows scrunched as he concentrated on the book when I noticed it.

“Where are your glasses?” I asked.

He looked up surprised at my sudden question, or maybe he was just shocked I’d noticed. He just looked at me for a few seconds before looking down. I was surprised to see his cheeks turn red slightly.

“I left them up in my room. I’m wearing contacts.” He said in a low voice.

“Oh,” I mumbled.

“I don’t like the lenses so much, they make my eyes burn a little but the glasses…” he trailed off and I looked at him, waiting. “I guess they make me look kind of like a nerd.” He said.

“What’s wrong with that?” I asked.

“What’s wrong with being a nerd?” he asked in turn.

“Yeah, you like reading and you’re smart. I’m not saying only that makes you a nerd but wearing glasses is a matter of necessity not a sign of how smart you are.” I shrugged, looking back to the front as he stared at me for a few minutes before chuckling lightly.

“Thank you, I needed that I guess.” He said.

“Mhm,” I relented.

He closed the book and crossed his legs, turning more towards me. “So, what do you want to talk about?” he asked. I blinked at him. “Talk…about what?” I asked.

“Anything; the nurses aren’t going to take you back any time soon. We have a lot of time to spare. We can talk about anything. Music, Books, Shows, Hobbies, you name it, we can talk about it. We might as well get to know each other if we’re going to be here, right?” He said. I sat up straight, staring blankly at the boy in front of me.

Namjoon’s eyes were wide, his thick lips parted slightly in a small grin as he waited for me to answer him. With the white clothes and blond hair, he looked like small child.

It reminded me of Jungkook, even if the two men looked nothing alike.

Talk we did.

Namjoon was vociferous. He wanted to know everything that had happened in my life from the time I was able to walk to how I ended up here.

He listed his favorite books and music, most of them hip hop and while I wasn’t completely versed in the genre, I found I recognized some of the names from the TV and radio and most of his books were in line with mine too so we eased into discussing literature until he asked about the accident.

My jaw snapped shut, my eyes flew down and my cheeks paled.

Namjoon stared at the drastic change in my body and lowered his own head. “That bad…? I’m sorry, I’m too curious. I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t mean to trigger you.” He said.

“No, no,” I said immediately, catching the bashful pout on his face, his plush lips jutting forwards as he blinked.

“Don’t worry about it. The accident isn’t the trigger…it’s…it’s…my best friend.” I said softly.

He looked up at that. “Is she ok?” he asked.

“He…he’s gone, actually.” I said in a quiet voice.

There was a drawn out silence after that as he kept staring at the grass.

“You blame yourself.” He said. It wasn’t a question. He knew it. He was just telling me he knew.

I didn’t answer as the nurse finally came to take me away inside. I didn’t look at Namjoon again, too ashamed to meet his eyes. He knew now what I was. He knew about the blood on my hands.

It was on the way to my room when I heard it.

The rooms for girls were along one side of the wall while the other side belonged to the boys. Besides me, there were only two more girls in the facility, none of whom talked to me.

As I’d been crossing over to my hall, the sounds of low, childish sniffles caught my ear. I stopped immediately, recognizing the deep sobs.

I shifted my weight to my other crutch as I moved closer to Taehyung’s door, knocking on it. “Tae, are you ok?” I asked. The door opened with a light creak and I peeked inside.

Taehyung was curled up on his bed, blankets wrapped tightly around him as he cried into his pillow. His hair was sticking to his face, the green bangs soaked in tears. He looked up blearily as I entered the room. I knew there were rules about these kinds of things but I didn’t care.

He whimpered as I hobbled over to sit on the bed, as he sat up, scooting over to wrap his arms around my neck, burying his face into the crook of my neck, his sobs intensifying.

I wrapped my own arms around him, shushing him.

“What’s wrong, Tae?” I asked.

“The…The courts…they’re not letting me out.” He said.

“Wait…what?” I asked, unaware of his problems.

He wiped his nose on his sleeve as he pulled back, face still streaked. “You don’t know why I’m here, do you?” he asked. I shook my head.

He bunched his sleeves in his lap, looking down. “I stabbed my step father…with a bottle.” He said.

My breath caught in my throat. That’s when I realized; his posture was akin to mine. Eyes downcast, face bloodless, body slumped in shame…shame of our actions.

“Tae…”

“He beat my mother. I wasn’t…a very good son, I guess. I couldn’t take care of her so she had to marry him. I didn’t like staying around him, I knew there was something wrong but I never thought he was abusive. When I found out…I was bitter. I beat him back but he never backed down. The day they caught me…he just wouldn’t stop. He was going after her and I…I had to do something. There was so much blood. When they took me away, my mother plead self defense and the neighbors helped so they shifted me here. He’s alive…I don’t know what he’d doing. My mom doesn’t talk about him…”

He paused to sniff.

“They’ve been trying to get me out of here for months now. The lawyers are sucking up all my father’s money and they just aren’t getting anywhere. The last visit they told me, we lost. I’m going to have to finish my term here. I have to stay here for a whole year.”

He broke down again, hands reaching up to cup his face.

“I – I want to – go home.” He choked as I sat there, staring into space.

I felt an indescribable emotion rising somewhere in the pit of my stomach, stronger that sympathy and milder than pity. I moved closer to the crying boy and brought him down to rest his head on my lap where he cried harder for a few more minutes before passing out, soft whimpers escaping his lips instead of snore.

I stroked his hair, wondering how blinded I had been to anything other than my own problems…

#bts angst #namjoon angst #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #namjoon #bts #bts smut #namjoon smut #bts rm #asylum

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toothless-transmed · 5 years

Text

Just read - tw dysphoria

Ever since I came out last year, late June, I've been struggling. I can't leave my house without adding my parents if I look enough like a guy. I can't have my hair fall a certain way, or wear my favorite t-shirts anymore. I can't wear my old pants, or shoes. I can't even wear socks from the women's section, because I know where they came from. I can't take off my binder, it hurts to emotionally. I can't walk, breathe, talk, or do anything. My brain will constantly remind me, "isn't that what a girl would do".

When I came out to my now boyfriend, he reacted well, as did my family. However, up until now, my cousins don't talk to me the same way. My family doesn't talk to me in fear of how I'll treat them if they mess up. I feel like shit that I made them feel that way. I've told them so many times that, "as long as it's an accident, I promise I won't be mad", but they don't seem to believe me. I'm trying to make normal friends at school, and it's hard. It's hard for me to talk to people because of my voice, my looks. I know I don't look like a guy. I try to talk to people, and no matter how well it goes there's always my thought in the back of my head. "They think you're a girl." "They hear your voice." "They're lying." And I hate it. I have maybe two real friends, along with my boyfriend. Sometimes I even feel like they're lying.

My mom took me shopping a month ago to get clothes for a dance. We were gone for 5 hours. Nothing would fit me. We went from store to store looking for pants and shirts. We had to settle on a shirt too big for me, and pants whose waist was too small. I know that since I'm AFAB, men's clothes aren't made for my body type, but when you can't even find anything to fit you in youth, it's kinda triggering. It also doesn't help that with scoliosis, my hips are even more pronounced.

I can't take a shower until the sun sets. Even then I close my eyes and look up. I wait until it's pitch black go remove my boxers and binder. Until I can't see my reflection. I'll shower, and I cry. The shower is where you think. I think of old age, relationships, family. I once broke down because I imagined myself growing up to be an old lady, not an old man. I can't even think about that. It's so painful to even imagine myself as being a girl, or being feminine. I think back to jr high. I bound my chest, wore only sports bras. I tried to pic masc shirts, and only ever wore jeans and sneakers. I would spend my lunchtime alone. After I ate I would take myself to a corner and cry. I would just cry. This corner wasn't private. It was right next to the lunch door. Guess how many people helped me. Go ahead... None. Thoughout a whole semester of me balling my eyes out in a corner and dying on the inside, not one person stopped to ask if I was ok.

I want it to stop. I dont want to feel like this. I don't want to be sad. I don't WANT DYSPHORIA. I just want to be a man. I want to have a flat chest. I want a real penis.

#tw dysphoria #not discourse

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lauracosplay-blog · 6 years

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Hawkgirl Wings Tutorial

I’ve had a few requests for a tutorial on how I made these wings from my Hawkgirl cosplay. Be warned, these are literally the most ridiculously assembled things in the world. Do descend into the madness, go below the cut...

We begin by making the pattern. I had the basic shape in mind for what I wanted these wings to look like but I wasn’t sure about the proportions and math is not my strong suit. I also didn’t have any large sheets of paper to make the pattern on. Remember those binder dividers that had the little colored tabs on them? For some reason my mother saved all of them “in case we needed them someday”. Well...that day has come.

I had a similarly sized person lay on this monstrosity and I sketched out different wing shapes and sizes. The highlighted one is what I ultimately went with.

Once that was cut out I took a thick gauge of jewelry wire and bent it to roughly the shape of the pattern. Sorry for the crappy picture!

Now that the pattern was complete, we could move onto the next step; cutting the fabric.

The fabric I used is an old vinyl tablecloth that my mom had stashed somewhere and had been using for little projects. I swear, most of this project was created using random crap from my parents’ place. Anyway, if you don’t happen to have any old tablecloths around, you can use any thick fabric. Upholstery fabric or canvas would probably be the best. You want something that’s strong and won’t rip because there’s a whole lot of things that are going to happen to it. Things that fabric isn’t usually meant for. Try to get as close to the color of the feathers you’re using as possible.

You will need four identical pieces cut out.

Next you’re going to pin two of your pieces together, wrong side to wrong side.

You’re going to sew two rows around where you pinned, creating a channel to feed your wire though. This is what’s going to stabilize the outer shape of your wings. The width between your stitches depends on the gauge of wire you decide to use.

Here we are feeding the wire through the channel. Make sure you take a pair of pliers to bend the end of your wire in so you don’t have a sharp end that will poke through your fabric and/or stitches while you feed it through.

Remember what I said about random crap? Here’s some more! The top is some doweling that we had lying around. and the red thing is an old drum stick. You can just buy doweling at Michael’s or Home Depot though :D Anyway, these are going to be what reinforces the structure of your wings.

I sewed channels for the two dowels you see in the picture and just slid them in. Then with a bit of hot glue I tacked down the ends so they wouldn’t fall out.

Here’s a side by side of what both wings were looking like at this point.

Next I sewed the two wings together at the center. Be careful because this seam is extremely delicate because there’s nothing holding the weight yet. At this point I also cut off the excess wire that you see poking out.

I realized that I needed one more piece of dowel but there was no more room to sew channels in the fabric so I just hot glued it on. I made sure to use a LOT of glue. The door hinge is part of what I did next.

The center was REALLY flimsy so I bought a door hinge and some plywood. No we didn’t just have those lying around this time :P Anyway, there’s two pieces of wood, one of the front and one for the back. We marked where the holes needed to be on the wood and drilled those in. Then we sandwiched it all together. It should go bottom piece of wood, wings, top piece of wood, door hinge.

Now I needed a back plate that would serve as a flat piece to go against my back and a place to attach the straps for the harness. For some reason there was a denim canvas board at my parents house.

Yeah that’s some jeans fabric on a canvas board. I don’t know why it exists either. You can just use a regular canvas board if you don’t want to try to track down one of these ridiculous things. It will work the same. Anyway, I measured out the size I needed for my back plate (this will vary based off of your own size).

This is what I came up with. You want it to fit between your shoulder blades comfortably. Next I had to cut it out, drill more holes, cut more plywood and attach the thing to the wings.

It’s much easier to show in pictures than to describe. One important point though. Make sure your plywood overlaps the dowel on the left. DO NOT go underneath like the one on the right. I had to redo that side. You want that dowel under the wood because this is what will keep your wings from flopping backwards on that side. Also make sure the dremel off the pokey ends of the screws that are sticking out or your wings will be very dangerous and your feathers won’t sit right on that part.

Finally it’s feather time! I used a combination of 12-14 in. feathers and 6-8 in feathers. Here are some of my progress pictures. I started from the bottom and worked my way up. I wasn’t super precise or anything, I just hot glued them in the way that looked most natural.

Eventually I was able to cover everything except for the white back plate. Now it’s harness time.

I didn’t take a whole lot of pictures for this step so bear with me. This is your under-bust strap at the bottom. Use a wide two inch elastic and measure it to fit snugly around your under-bust. Attach three clasps. I just sewed these on by hand.

Next, I attached some clear bra straps to the back of the canvas board back plate. I used barge cement for the straps and the elastic. Next I glued down a thin piece of craft foam over where I glued on all the straps. I wear a strapless bra under my corset and the clear straps hook into the inside of my strapless bra. You should now be able to put a corset on over the whole piece and the only thing showing will be the clear straps.

If you’re doing a different version of Hawkgirl (or even a whole different costume) and you don’t care if the straps show, or if the straps can be incorporated into your costume, you can attach them however you’d like. I only did this weird bra strap/hidden under-bust strap thing because I was concerned about having the straps be as unobtrusive as possible.

This is what the back of the wings look like once they were completely covered in feathers.

Anyway, that’s how I made these wings. I hope this is helpful. Feel free to send me a message on Instagram if you have any questions at all. I check that more than I check the messages on here. Thanks for reading if you somehow made it this far and good luck on your winged adventures <3

#hawkgirl #cosplay #wings #tutorial #crafting

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hoodoo12 · 6 years

Text

Full Disclosure

I’ve had a few requests, so this is for my nonbinary readers. I love you!

SFW. Meeting the family. Swearing. Sliding close to panic attacks. Confessions. Rick admitting something about himself. Comfort and care.

⁂

“Summer, Morty, Beth, and . . . Jerry.”

Rick pointed to each of his family members in order, around the table, as if you couldn’t figure out who each of them were. He introduced you too, adding,

“She’s the one I’ve been seeing.”

“Seeing, Dad?” his daughter asked skeptically.

“I’m sleeping with her, if that’s what you’re asking. Fucking her—“

Jerry gave an overly loud and obviously fake laugh, and cut his father-in-law off. “Courting her! I’m sure Rick just meant to say courting her!”

That started an awkward argument between several of them. You don’t care about the exact labeling of your relationship with Rick, but you do correct the group of them quietly with,

“Them.”

No one pays attention to you, as caught up as they were in what was and was not appropriate language and conversation at a dinner table.

In the eye of the maelstrom, you softly say,

“They’re.”

“No, right here!” Jerry replies, not paying attention to what you’re actually saying. “This here is my house, Rick, and you flaunting your sexual, your carnal . . . your, your hedonistic . . .”

Jerry rummages for the right word, and the entire table waits in anticipatory horror at what may finish the sentence.

“. . . capers!” he says triumphantly, as if he’s made a rousing closing statement.

Everyone is silent for a moment.

“You’re a real-real wordsmith, Jerry,” Rick says sarcastically.

Jerry stands up and slams his palms on the table. “You think you can just bring her here, like it’s all cool and normal? Like she’s your girlfriend? Like she’s—“

Once more, you quietly say, “They’re.”

Rick looks at you, finally, really looks at you. His eyes roam over you. His attention is laser-like in intensity, and you feel very small, even as you try to ignore him. You concentrate on controlling your breathing, since you’re tip-toeing closer and closer to a panic attack. Before he can say anything in your defense, however, the rest of the family turns on Jerry.

“Jesus christ, Jerry!” Beth exclaims.

“You’re so rude, Dad!” Summer says at the same time.

He looks wounded. “But Beth! He’s just here, flaunting her—“

“Them,” you whisper. No one but Rick seems to hear you.

“—and don’t tell me you think it’s okay, he’s your father, Beth, your elderly father—“

“I think he’s an adult and she’s an adult and—“

Your lips form the word “they’re”, but you don’t actually say the word this time.

Suddenly Rick grabs your hand and hauls you up out of your chair as he stands. Both of your chairs screech loudly on the floor. It’s enough to stop his daughter and son-in-law from fighting, for a moment.

“Well, this was a pile of horseshit,” Rick announces. “I’d say thanks for the dinner, sweetie, but we never even got a chance to eat it. Come on, let’s go.”

The last line was directed at you, but his grandkids look up hopefully.

“Sorry Morty. Sorry Summer. Maybe later Grandpa’ll take you out—we’ll go get ice cream, okay?” apologizes Rick, before he looks pointedly at Jerry. “We have some unfinished fucking to get done. ”

Before anyone can respond, Rick drags you out of the dining room, leaving his family behind. He doesn’t tell you where you’re going; doesn’t ask how you’re doing. He just pulls your by the arm out to his vehicle, makes an impatient wave of his hand to get you inside, and takes off.

You’re glad to just be away from the noise. It’s easier to breathe, here, too.

After a while, it’s apparent he’s flying around aimlessly. You say,

“We didn’t really get a chance to eat, before all hell broke loose. I’m still hungry. Any chance of getting some food?”

Rick gives you a side glance. “You look a little different tonight,” he replies.

That’s a confusing reply. You can’t think of what to say to that.

“You—are you wearing a binder?”

Your jaw drops. You were, but you’d never told him about it. And the shirt you’re wearing is kind of loose, so it should have helped disguise the fact you weren’t wearing a bra. Lots of different scenarios run through your head, and for a moment, you’re frozen.

“I’m sorry,” Rick says, and for the life of you you have no idea exactly what he’s apologizing for. “I shouldn’t have introduced you as ‘she’.”

That paralyzed feeling doesn’t go away. In fact, your dread comes barreling back, steamrolling you and suddenly, you’re crying.

“Hey-hey—what’s this now?” Rick exclaims. He shifts the ship into neutral and turns to you.

You can’t control your sobs.

“I-I-I—“ you stutter.

The vehicle is too wide for him to do anything but put a hand on your shoulder. “Baby,” he soothes. “I—“

“I didn’t know how to tell you!” you sob.

“Baby, it’s—“

Now that the floodgates are down, however, you interrupt him again. Your voice is wracked with choking sobs, but you can’t seem to stop. “I wanted to tell you! I didn’t want to lie! But, but, but it’s so hard, and people don’t understand and sometimes it’s hard for me to understand too and I just, I don’t know, I was worried, and-and, I was worried about telling you and now I’m worried that you know, and I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Rick! I tried to keep it under wraps, but tonight, I don’t know—just everyone saying “she” and “her”, and it just, just set me off! And no one paid attention, no one ever pays attention—“

You run out of breath and have to take a giant, weepy gasp. Your throat is tight and sore, and your eyes haven’t stopped leaking. You must look a mess and that’s not helping anything—

“Baby! Sugar, it’s fine,” Rick placates. He lets go of your shoulder and strokes your hair.

“It’s n-not-not fine!” you contradict loudly. “I should have told you, you should have known so you had the opportunity to, to . . .”

Your voice trails off, and it’s not because of the crying this time. Rick prompts,

“To what, baby?”

Although your eyes feel swollen and you know you must look like hell, you look him straight in the eye and say,

“To know the truth so you could break it off with me.”

That hard nugget of terror, the one that lodges in your stomach whenever someone expresses an interest in you, has now been verbalized and is out in the open. It seems to expand in your gut, and suddenly, you can barely draw breath.

The panic that has been sniffing for an opening pounces. Your sobs take on a dry, heaving quality, and mindless that you’re not on the ground, you scrabble for the door handle. You need to get away from the disgust and confusion you can imagine is etched on Rick’s face.

Instead, you find yourself awkwardly hauled out of your seat again. This time you’re forced into the back bench seat of the vehicle, situated between Rick’s long legs, your back to his front. He holds you tightly. He may be rocking, but then again, it may be the vibration from the ship in neutral.

For a long while he doesn’t say anything. He just keeps you wrapped up in his arms and legs. At first you want to struggle away from him, but eventually you just feel weak and tired. Your tears have finally stopped; you’ve run out, you think. You just want to go home and collapse under a blanket and never come back out.

“Take me home, Rick,” you croak. Your throat is raw.

“Why, baby? Aren’t you com-comfortable here?”

You are, actually, on the lumpy backseat of his vehicle, surrounded by him. But that doesn’t override the fact that he’ll never want to see you again, so it’s better to rip that bandage off now. You tell him that.

He snorts, a little, and it tickles your ear. “Why do you think I wouldn’t want to see you again? Do you think I-I take the time to calm down every sobbing wreck I have in here? Christ, I’d never get anywhere if I had to stop and talk to Morty about his crying fits all the time.”

That’s kind of funny, and kind of mean, and all Rick. A tiny chortle escapes you.

You sigh. Rick’s hand tightens on over top of yours.

“I give literally no fuck about labels,” he tells you quietly. His voice is low, and very serious. He doesn’t move his lips from the side of your head, and it tickles you again. You shiver as he continues. “I don’t mean to brag—or astound you with my sexual, my hedonistic capers—“

A laugh breaks loose from you, as he uses his son-in-law’s terminology. Rick stops and you feel him chuckle a moment too.

“—but sugar, I have been with women, men, hive minds, individuals of species who don’t have genders, a gelatinous cube alien that I’m pretty sure was more intent on absorbing me than getting it on, and once or twice, even another Rick. So you being you? That’s exactly what I want.”

Your breath catches again, but it’s not in panic this time.

“I’m sorry I called you she,” Rick apologies again. “I should have been more observant.”

“It’s okay,” you forgive. Your throat still hurts, and you swallow to relieve it.

“And this—“ he says, running fingers down your side and feeling the fabric of your binder under your shirt. “You tried to keep it under wraps? That’s the worst pun I’ve ever heard. Did you come up with that on the fly, or were you just waiting for the ab-absolute perfect moment to drop it?”

You laugh again and elbow him lightly in the ribs. He shifts his hands and slips them, still on top of your shirt, down the front of your chest. It feels nice.

“You look good,” he murmurs in your ear. “I like this.”

“I don’t . . . I don’t wear it all the time,” you tell him, suddenly self-conscious about it.

You can feel him shrug. “I know. Either way, I like it.”

You shift around between his legs. He’s serious. You kiss him, and it’s as fiery as it was before everything came to a head tonight.

“Come on, baby. I’m starving. You want ice cream instead of dinner? We’ll swing by the house, pick up the kids, and head back out to the best ice cream place in the galaxy, okay?”

You agree, and although that feeling of terror hasn’t dissolved completely—you still have to deal with his family, although you imagine his grandkids are going to be fine—it’s much, much smaller, and you can breathe again.

fin.

#rick sanchez #reader #nonbinary #sfw #fan fic #fanfic

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aliveprofessor · 6 years

Text

Rocket Man

the fic has nothing to do with the title lmao

description: Ned has a secret.

tw: rape/harassment implied, a Lot of transphobia (this is a total vent fic ok)

under the cut!

Ned woke up to his phone’s alarm. He hopped in the shower, the pervasive loneliness of his half-full bed leaving him in the steam-filled three quarters bathroom. His house was decorated like a married man’s, like in another universe he’d have a wife and a dog and a baby on the way.

As it stood, he’d completed one of those goals - his dog, Bean, was whining to go outside by now, and Ned tripped over his own feet with a towel wrapped around his waist to let him outside. Even as he looked in the mirror, he appreciated so very greatly the recovering scars under his pectorals, stretching from his nipple to the armpit. Top surgery had been a bitch to recover from, but Ned supposed it was healthier than wearing a binder to work every day.

He still had problems with his feminine face. His nose was too small, eyelashes and lips too full. Ned looked down at his hips, hidden by the towel that was still on his waist.

His alarm buzzed for the second time that day, the music Ned had put on pausing to let the alarm sing out.

T day!!

It was then that Ned realized that he’d have to go out later with the other Try Guys. It was a Friday, after all, and Fridays were reserved for going out and getting absolutely hammered. Even if Ned did act like a dad the whole time.

He quirked a smile at himself in the mirror. Even if he hated some of his features, he knew he could push through it. Even if he was lonely, even if he was insecure…

Ned shook off the negative emotions. He’d have to get his shot done before work, so he could go out with the guys later. Maybe it was foolish to be in the closet to your closest friends - especially when one was queer himself.

But there was a thought caught at the back of Ned’s brain, like a fly caught on a flycatcher. The fear of being ostracized, like he had been, caused him to shake as he gathered the supplies - a sharps container, a syringe, two needles, the vial.

He calmed down, unwrapped the bigger needle, and cleaned off the vial. Taking some testosterone out of the vial at the right dose, he looked into the mirror and caught sight of his own terrified eyes. The thought of being called Caelyn again, the thought of being screamed at - he should’ve known it was a gamble to come out to his Catholic parents - the thought of trying to pray his sickness away.

Of course, now that he didn’t necessarily have to be out, Ned absolutely refused to come out. He looked back down to his hand to see the smaller needle completely submerged in his stomach fat, his hands going through the motions without him really deciding to do so.

And Ned entertained the idea of telling the Guys. He really did. He even thought of a perfect, beautifully quippy one-liner; “I chose Ned because it rhymes with ‘red’.”

And then he was done with the shot. The feeling of his skin sliding off the needle - still the most jarring sensation of the whole process - brought him back to reality. He was Ned Fulmer, living his full-time lie. Bean was the only one who knew it.

Of course, Bean couldn’t beat him up. Bean couldn’t tell him he was going to Hell. Bean couldn’t find a new, hungry look in his eyes that left Ned feeling hollow inside. God, thinking back on his past made him shiver. He wasn’t even cold.

He pulled on his polo shirt and khakis. They hid his form, made him look like a box. He liked it - his clothes felt like a safety blanket.

Ned let Bean back in, gave him some food for the day, resolved to order junk food for breakfast, and hopped into his car.

He walked into the office not feeling up to conversation. That’s when he saw her.

An intern. One that had gone to Ned’s highschool. And, God, she looked like -

Tracy Lineman. With the blonde curls and everything.

Ned felt his earlier panic spiral out of control. Tracy had been one of the ones to take pity on Ned. She never did use his chosen name or pronouns, though.

It felt like a nightmare. She probably recognized his last name - probably recognized his green eyes. His hands shook.

“Tracy?” He asked. She looked up. He pulled her into a spare meeting room.

Ned took a deep, shaky breath. “It’s… it’s Caelyn. I still go by Ned, I still use he-him pronouns. I would appreciate it deeply if you didn’t out me to my coworkers. I knew you’d figure it out at some point or another -”

“Oh!” Tracy blinked, “Oh, I - of course!”

There was something about her that made her seem already guilty of something. Ned decided to let it go, nodding to her and leaving the meeting room.

He made it back to his desk, by the other three. They were already at work - McDonald’s had been a bit backed up, so it’d taken longer than normal - and they looked at Ned curiously.

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Zach said flippantly. Ned blanched.

“Oh - oh, yeah,” He stumbled over his words, “Caelyn.”

Eugene spoke up, seeming almost annoyed. “You never told us about her. What did you think would happen?”

“She died,” Ned blurted, “She died four years ago, right before I went to college. I don’t like talking about it.”

Now Eugene blinked in surprise. “I’m sorry for pressing, dude.”

“It’s okay,” Ned sighed, “I knew I’d have to tell you guys at some point or another.”

Ned felt those words bitter in his mouth, rotting through his tongue. He was weaving himself deeper and deeper into this lie.

Panic rose in his chest again, choking out his voice, when Tracy came back. She looked far more antagonistic now - Ned hoped she’d gotten less mean. When one is all alone, they’ll take the company they can manage to scrounge for. And Tracy… Tracy was pretty bad.

And now, there was that look in her eyes. That power-hungry look that Ned knew meant she knew she had some serious blackmail on him.

“Hey, Ned,” She said, “Can you do me a favor and grab me a cup of coffee?”

Ned declined. “Sorry, I’m busy right now.”

“A favor for the old friend of a sibling?” She mirrored his exact body language and tone. The other Guys watched the exchange with interest. There was a fire behind Tracy’s eyes, and Ned found himself getting up and carrying her mug to the kitchen.

Ned realized the best case scenario was that the guys thought he had the hots for Tracy. Ned just knew that Tracy wasn’t the worst evil he could face - but she could still put him in an unbelievable amount of danger. It was so much harder to meet people now that he was out of school. He couldn’t lose the Guys.

Ned resolved to come out to them that night. It was the hardest decision he’d ever made - but he couldn’t bear to be Tracy’s blackmailee forever.

God, Ned didn’t even want to be a blackmailee at all. Yet, here he was.

He gave Tracy her coffee, sitting back at his desk. He pulled up his project and started to work on it. He did have to suffer near-constant interruptions via Tracy, which was… painful.

Ned was ready to rip out his own eyeballs by the end of the day, but then - then, he was going out with the Guys. Unfortunately, either Tracy had decided to stay late, or one of the Guys had invited her along.

“You don’t mind if Tracy tags along, do you?” Eugene asked, but not in a way that was asking permission. When Eugene asked something, there was a good chance he was already planning on doing it. Or already doing it.

Ned smiled thinly and said, “Of course not!”

“Hey, Ned,” Tracy started, “Could you carry my things for me?”

Ned was absolutely exhausted. He just simply could not carry anything for Tracy, even if he wanted to. “No.”

“But… Ned.” There was that old, dangerous undertone to her voice that Ned was far too familiar with was back. None of the other guys seemed to notice.

“I said ‘No.’” Ned flatly declined the offer, consequences be damned. He could not physically muster the ability to care. After doing several coffee and copier runs, a lunch run, and giving Tracy lots of completely unnecessary advice, Ned had felt like the intern all day. And now - he was done.

“Caelyn,” Tracy said, and Ned realized just what he’d done, “Have you told your friends how you’ve been lying to them?”

The other three stopped dead in their tracks, confusion written over their faces. Ned flinched a bit.

“Tracy -” Ned felt like a mask had been ripped off his face, and he was standing there in a bra and panties, like he had been during that first year of college.

“Ned - what’s going on?” Keith glanced between the two of them, feeling the tension fly off Ned’s body like static. Tracy remained cool, a skill Ned had seen too often.

“Caelyn has been lying to you about herself,” Tracy smirked, Ned looking and feeling like he was about to cry.

And then he was. Tears leaked down his face, and he was glad they were in the parking lot so he could turn and walk away as fast as possible, breaking into a run when Eugene tried to follow him.

That’s where his temper always landed him - deep in trouble. Ned hated his short fuse as much as he could between spikes of panic and trying to remember how to breathe, taking refuge behind a dumpster and crying out to nobody in particular.

His phone vibrated endlessly in his pocket. Ned prayed for God to send a lightning bolt down and kill him right then.

To his absolute despair, he heard quick footsteps echo on the brick. Eugene was scarily good at finding things - finding people. He knocked on the side of the dumpster.

“Is it okay if I come around the corner, Ned?”

Ned let out a strangled noise he hoped sounded like assent, and Eugene crouched down in front of him. Eugene brushed a lock of hair out of Ned’s face, a strangely tender gesture for what Ned was about to tell him.

“I’m trans,” He whispered, marvelling at the ease with which the words flew from his mouth. Eugene crossed his legs on the ground, peering into Ned’s soul through his eyes.

“Pronouns?”

That was the last thing Ned had expected out of Eugene’s mouth - well, he supposed growing up in rural Florida had left him with some low standards, but still.

“He - he/him,” Ned breathed, still trying to catch his breath. Eugene nodded, taking Ned’s hand in his.

Here it comes, Ned thought. The ‘we can fix this’, the ‘I’m so sorry you’re like this’.

But Eugene said neither of those. “Breathe with me.” He placed Ned’s hand on his chest, taking a deep breath. Ned took deep breaths with Eugene, feeling himself come down from the tallest mountain of panic he’d ever encountered.

“I’m sorry -” Ned started, interrupted by Eugene.

“Don’t apologize,” He smiled softly, “You’re still Ned. You’re still our best friend, you’re still a man.”

Ned absolutely beamed through his tears. Eugene pulled him closer, giving him the most comforting hug he’d ever received. And from Eugene.

“You’re not mad?”

Eugene paused. “Oh, Ned.” His voice was dripping with pity. But not the kind Ned was used to. “How could I be mad? You did something really brave today.”

“No I didn’t,” Ned sniffled, “I ran away.”

“You stood up to Tracy,” Eugene grinned. “How about tonight, instead of going out, I’ll convince the Guys to join us for pizza at my place, and you can explain everything? I’m here to help you through anything, y’know.”

Ned nodded. “Thank you. That sounds nice.”

And Ned wished he had the strength left to tell Eugene just how much he meant to him. He’d tell him on the way back.

He felt as though a new world had been opened up to him, like shackles had been taken off of his ankles. He felt truly free for the first time since he was a little kid, running free in the creek with his best friend, pretending to be spies.

#mod #txt #fic #tg #i'm afraid to put it in any tags bc buzz//feed is a bunch of bitchass people who are hip with the kids and read fics #rip me #please reblog

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bestfluteninja · 6 years

Text

quotes from marching band, 2k17

these are actual things that people in my marching band said during the 2017 season. prepare yourself. (if you want context just shoot me an ask and i’ll try to provide it)

“I like your dad hat”

“Fuck you!” “You would”

“I hate him so much”

“Does anyone have lotion?”

“I need a new oboe reed cause mine is shit”

“I forgot sunscreen”

“Happy June camp!” “How is it happy?” “I’m trying to be positive here”

“Mr. H took his Tide bottle away”

“There’s a big shiny object in the sky. It’s the sun. It does this thing called shining”

“I’m gonna get a rotisserie chicken tattooed on my forehead”

“Dis line tho”

“And remember, I don’t care”

“He was just sitting on the toilet, pants down, phone out, playing Clash of Clans or something”

“Why are you sitting outside?” “Because if I wanted to be around people, I’d be inside”

“Just finished a drug deal”

[after chucking a phone across the parking lot into the grass] “The screen isn’t cracked but the case is!”

“Stop spraying people with sunscreen”

“SPF sun-resistant”

“Your pants are not ripping apart, it’s okay”

“It’s been in my bra and it’s still warm”

“He got a penny stuck in his trumpet”

“Let’s do me”

“Aww yeah, sun cancer”

“Right in the stomach

“I’m the best noodle”

“I use a pencil sharpener”

“Why is my binder always backwards and upside down”

“Someone just died”

“We’re so good at circles”

“Okay, guys, this circle is turning into a triangle”

“I’m turning into a meme”

“She forgot her instrument at first”

“I ran into a Little Cesar’s building”

“Nothing ever happens in marching band, this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened” [there was a small lake in the indoor room where woodwinds were supposed to practice]

“My heart actually started beating, and I thought no”

“I found myself being nice and it just didn’t sit with me”

“I want to eat but my stomach’s rejecting it”

“A tree fell on my house again”

“If you want a good comeback, you have to be creative, you sea dolphin”

“I’ll bottle flip a tree onto your house”

“Being high is better than being asleep”

“I like having my earbuds in and not paying attention while I walk across the street”

“I cried this morning”

“He doesn’t look like a Logan, he looks like a Bob”

“I can’t carry everything and your everything else”

“I’m gonna tondo this foot straight up your ass”

“She’s literally a noodle:

“You can hate me all you want, I don’t care:

“School starts in three weeks–” *various screaming pterodactyl noises* “–and I won’t mention that again”

“People who run across the road are extra” “I don’t care if you think I’m extra, I don’t wanna get run over”

“That is where the drum line is. Never go there.”

“I’m not a white k-pop fan that only listens to BTS. Well, I am, but I listen to other bands too”

“I thought the baritone girl was you”

“I hate this, I hate being here, it makes me hate myself” “Then why are you here?” “To get gym credits”

“Come see how done your boyfriend is”

“There’s a catastrophe over there”

“People swat at sweat bees and then they miss and just hit you”

“You only have one reed?”

“I like diabetes-sweet coffee”

“I like coffee as bitter as I am”

“Don’t ‘yeah’ me, fucking fix it”

“I watched the first episode, and there was a bunch of naked people, and I was like ‘nope’“

“Instrument catches on fire? Keep your feet in time”

“Can I go up for thirds yet?”

“Put your damn chicken nuggets down”

“They were standing on the sideline catcalling me and I missed a step off and once we got off the field I went ‘motherfuckers’“

“I will not have you spreading rumors that I’m selling drugs to the students”

“Don’t forget your necks”

“You suck!” “For a dollar”

“It’s like Cards Against Humanity, but it’s visuals against saxophones”

“Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right–” “Left!” “WRONG”

“I have my own shady not-drugs”

“That’s blood”

“Look at this sweat fucking bee” “That’s a regular bee” [pokes it with drumstick]

“Mom! Face forward when you’re on the bus” “Then I can’t see what you’re up to”

“THE STUDENT SECTION CHEERED!”

“It doesn’t give you energy, it just loads you with caffeine”

“When you leaned down, I could see your boobs” “Were they nice boobs?” “Yeah” “Then that’s all that matters”

“Am I embarrassing you?” “Little bit”

“Oh are we playing the school song? Thanks for telling me”

“That is a lot of birds on there, that’s concerning”

“I forgot my flute”

“Look at our school, going over the curb”

“Let’s go smash the liquid banana”

“Can I have a hand hug?”

“Do you have a hair tie around your phone?” “I do. I also have ten dollars I found on the bus”

“Marching band is the only form of slavery still legal in the United States”

“I somehow accumulated three water bottles” “You’re gonna pee clear”

“When do I not want chik-fil-a?”

“I constantly have to pee”

“I have three water bottles” “I’m proud of you”

“How do you think you did?” “Better than first place”

“Which came first, calculus or physics?”

“Y’all stink worse than the guard bus”

“Close your eyes and it’ll seem dark”

“There’s tired, and then there’s band competition tired”

“I just went through puberty, second time around”

“I need to blow my nose and pet my dog”

“Can I braid your leg hair?”

“I generally don’t like to tell my boyfriend I’m cheating on him”

“There’s a Starbucks nearby”

“Why do I relate so much to the small child?” “Which one?” “The one who’s screaming”

“Avon just marches in a block and the judges are like ‘amazing, first place’“

“I don’t care if you die” “I’ve never seen this side of the flutes before” “I promise we’re all friends in the flute section”

“I’m gonna eat my own asshole” “Can I have half?”

“There is nothing productive going on over there”

“Why does God hate me?”

“I’m allergic to the prescribed crap”

“Are you eating a doughnut?” [takes another bite of doughnut] “No”

“I hate this band”

“Did we lose the other bus again?”

“They definitely wouldn’t notice a 220 pound man jumping out a window”

“If you don’t know who Frank Sinatra is, just leave”

“A bee just landed on my nose”

“We set the standard really low”

“I love you, band moms. You feed us so well”

“McDonald’s is where it’s aaaaaat”

“Why is this part of my body sweating?”

“I’m gonna hoard my food”

“See, the show choir moms just don’t care”

“I’m not a fork”

“It’s three o’clock? I thought it was like six”

“Well if you look at my phone it’s seven thirty a.m. yesterday”

“I just hate the flutes”

“I wonder if I could walk through the drive-through”

“Your voice is lower, like you’re trying to be seductive”

“Oh, you mean on Snapchat, I thought you meant like tracking”

“I have one percent oh no mayday mayday”

“You almost just died” “But it would have been spectacular”

“That’s not flying, that’s falling very fast. With style”

“I love birds–no, I hate birds”

“What’s on your bucket list?”

“I don’t pay attention to non-human menstrual cycles”

“Rifle butts are cute”

“Oh my god a bass drum”

“Do you like my snuggie?”

“It looks like Christmas and a highlighter had a baby”

“I will eat anything that’s edible”

“I thought it was ‘fluti’ like ‘cacti’“

“He makes a better Elsa than Elsa”

“It fits everywhere but the boobs”

“I have chik-fil-a in my pocket”

“You want a present? I found it in the ceiling”

“The hell-word”

“Why wouldn’t I want a donut?”

“Afraid of diabetes? Have you seen what I eat?”

“I just really love food today”

“Don’t break physics”

“I would suck someone’s dick for twenty dollars”

“Activate your thighs”

“I have pep in my step, man”

[hobbling dangerously fast on crutches] “I’m a trained medical professional!”

“If you don’t feel like you’re attacking your neighbor, you’re doing it wrong”

“Why are y’all having orgies on the stairs?”

“Why do we have two trash bags?” “One for the people, one for the stuff”

[singing] “We are family, even though you’re whiter than me”

“Make it iCarly. Throw the bagel at the wall”

“Get a room, you two”

“Who wants drugs?”

“He’s like a white Catholic man at a rave”

“Come hither, children, into the house of pee”

“I have just been mcflashed”

“Why?” “Meme”

“What in precipiatation”

“We can all be flat together”

“Wrong plus wrong equals less wrong”

“There may or may not be a hip thrust”

“The moon is an illusion”

“It’s hte one where we sit in the middle of the floor and they announce all our failures”

“Make the voices in your heat be a metronome”

“I forgot how to write the letter 9″

“The size of this mushroom is ungodly”

“The sun has not risen yet we should not be here”

“Nap time corner!”

“Will nut for heat”

“I am scientifically burning up”

“Please never make that noise again. You sounded like a hawk jumping off a bridge”

“There is no dying permitted in my section”

“A bird pooped on my shoulder!”

“It’s not about the size, it’s how you use it”

“Is your mom coming?” “Unfortunately”

“I’m a pretty pink princess”

“Your mom gave me extra candy on Halloween”

“Boy do I love men in tights”

“I’m not giving this boy ten dollars for a Gatorade”

“You got your charger, right? So if I watch Netflix I can use it?”

“I have to turn it up just a little so it doesn’t have a seizure”

“Get Spotify premium so there aren’t ads!” “It’s YouTube, calm down”

“I think I have that exact same bra on right now”

“They have kettle corn!!!”

“One, two, three, NUT”

“I didn’t know hair could have personality until I saw your hair flips”

“Midstates is a pity competition, like, oh, you didn’t make state? Have midstates” “Yeah, but I wanna win the pity competition”

“Do not have sexual intercourse in the next ten minutes, please”

“The golf cart people took her”

“I have what the cool kids call–” [does cartwheel and comes up with finger guns] “–depression”

“I shaved my ankle last night” “Not the rest of your leg?” “No, just my ankle”

“All that makes me feel is emotional distress”

“I never knew hair could have personality until I saw your hair flips”

“Is that orgy kid?”

“Flutes and clarinets, I am sensing a distinct lack of Christmas spirit when we sing jingle bells”

“Why aren’t you wearing a black shirt? This is marching band, we have to look like ninjas”

“Someone’s skipping school, oh no”

“Santa!! Can you follow me on Instagram?” “I want his autograph”

“I play saxophone, I’m not used to reading in the stratosphere”

#quotes from marching band #marching band 2k17 #hannah talks #mine #hannah does life

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