#but that is a whole other can of worms for a different late night text post

[franklespine]

The scene at the start of All Hell Breaks Loose where Dean talks to Sam's corpse in that shack in the middle of nowhere is soul crushing to an incomprehensible level that the show hardly ever manages to reach again.

Firstly, what is revealed about Dean as he spills his heart open is devastating on a whole other level. Like there's grief and then there's this - it's like a piece of him has been torn out and he's left unable to literally function. It's not really a new idea in the series up to this point that Dean has centered his life around his family, in particular protecting Sam. As he starts off, he wishes so desperately that Sam didn't start asking questions about their family so Dean could preserve his innocence just a little bit longer. No doubt John put a lot of pressure on Dean to protect and look after Sam, but taking on this role was something that was all but written inside him, as he says, John didn't even have to tell him to do it, Sam was his responsibility. The tipping point in this scene is when Dean finally asks "what am I supposed to do" - how can he even begin to move beyond this? He doesn't care if the world ends anymore, doesn't care if Azazel wins and he never gets revenge. In asking this question Dean realises that he is incapable of letting go of Sam, of the responsibilities to his family he has built his life around like the grain of sand at the centre of the pearl, and of the crushing guilt that comes with 'failing' these responsibilities. The only way forwards is to force the laws of nature to bend for him and bring Sam back from the dead, no matter the cost.

Secondly, this is heart wrenching to me for Sam too. Here he is, 23 years old and lying dead on a dingy mattress in a shack in the middle of nowhere - the only escape from his dark destiny found in death. But the primary reason it seems that Dean makes this massive sacrifice to bring him back isn't because he's 23 and has so much of life he deserves to live, but because he is incapable of living under the weight of his guilt in failing him - that he is Dean's responsibility that he can't live with letting down. And this is not to say that Dean doesn't also bring him back because he loves and care for him as a person, but it's not like Dean was sitting there talking to Sam saying you didn't deserve this, we were so close to ending this, you deserved to go on to have a life that hasn't been built around and in grief and revenge, hell, you could've even gone back to university and had your happy ending. You know? It's like selling your soul for someone is a crazy batshit insane thing to do - the ultimate sacrifice. But same as with John, it seems that the reason behind it wasn't just pure love and desire for that person to live just because they didn't deserve to die. John needed Dean to be there to ensure Sam didn't go darkside - to kill him if he can't save him. In both cases it was out of love, but in this weird objectified way.

It's just so fascinating how this dynamic between the three Winchesters, love and sacrifice plays out in the early seasons. How supernatural finds selfishness at the centre of this seemingly sacrificial selfless act. The selfishness in martyrdom.

That's why this scene is just heart wrenching in my sad insane little head. Sam and Dean were crazy codependants before this but this scene marks a turn for the worst (in codependence) for them. This scene is like the solidification of Dean's belief that he is worthless and incapable of functioning without the responsibilities he holds to his family and solidifies that Sam is the little brother possession for Dean to protect and regulate until his time runs out and he's shipped off to hell - leaving him at the centre of his massacred family with all the fingers pointing in his direction. His mum was collateral damage to his anti-baptism by a demon, his Dad sold his soul for his brother's life to be the final yes or no in the decision of whether Sam deserves to live or not, and now his brother's gone and done the same for him. But hey, at least when Dean gets dragged down to hell it isn't with the weight of guilt that he failed his responsibilities.

(spoiler alert: he feels guilty for leaving Sam anyway and Sam spirals anyway).

#supernatural #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #theyre just silly #silly little guys #i mean i could go on and on about the selling soul thing in s2/3 as an allegory for the cycles of emotional abuse #but that is a whole other can of worms for a different late night text post #also MERRY CHRISTMAS #yippee #i hope anyone who reads this and anyone who doesnt a very happy holiday #spn 2x22 #all hell breaks loose #spn meta #i guess

[itsmeoculi]

Poe dating hcs! SMUT AND FLUFF

Pairing(s):Poe x gn!reader

Tw: Smut hcs, nsfw content will be mentioned

Synopsis:None needed! Just dating Poe hcs

Let’s get a move on then!

Floof

-DEFINITELY LEAVES NOTES AROUND THE HOUSE!! He’s a writer for goodness sake, his notes are rlly cute. It’s like him telling you when he’s coming back home, if he’s making any additional stops, and where he mainly is headed for.

-Karl has had to at least sneak 1, if not, 2 thirsty love poems that Poe writes about you, when he’s alone. Ofc Poe is very shy AND WOULD PROBABLY DIE if you saw what he wrote. Karl being a smart as showed you by sneaking the papers. Poe could barely look at you in the eyes (as if they’re even visible) for like 2 weeks. Poor introvert :(

-Definitely a cuddle bug, a quite one tho. He doesn’t really ask for cuddles, he slides into them naturally, yk? like one night y’all are gonna sleep at a late hour, and he nudges your shoulder and sneaks his head under your arm. You guys then end up holding each other after

-LITTLE SPOON LITTLE SPOON LITTLE SPOOOOOOON!!!!!!!!

-Spoils you, but like unintentionally. Like man is so rich that $2,000 seems like a miracle to you, but to him? That’s a measly nickel, if not a cent to this guy 😦

-He would casually buy you new expensive stuff, like on a daily basis. No not “Here, darling it’s for Christmas.” And he gives you a new car (which this situation is still completely possible) but like you’ll see $20,000 purses on nightstands, DAILY, next to notes he leaves and the note would say “Just a small gift, love you always.” LIKE GODDAMNNNNN.

-you prob tell him at some point not to spend so much money on you, he apologizes (EVEN THOUGH HE DONT NEED TOOOO POOR BBY :((( ) BUT STILL KEEPS BUYING YOU STUFF just less frequently, cause he wants to listen to you. BUT HOW COULD HE NOT SPOIL YOU?

-loves rainy days because he would write stories, and ask for feedback from you, even if ur not a pro writer he just wants to hear your voice rlly (lil simp frfr)

-you babysit Karl when he’s REALLY BUSYYYY he trusts you <33

-writes letters sometimes. You two have phones and stuff, but he sometimes likes the feeling of paper and ink all dedicated to you. So he writes traditional letters instead of texts sometimes (he mainly does this for anniversaries or any special events)

-When y’all are about to have.. spichyyyy time, YOU GUYS HAVE TO HAVE TO HAVE TO make sure that Karl doesn’t walk in. So y’all lock everything and make sure that Karl is in a whole separate FAR AWAY room from where y’all are, cause I have to say it, POE IS A LOUD MOANER

That brings us to smut hcs!

-He’s an automatic sub/bottom

-whimpers a lot, especially if you’re edging him FOR SOME REASON HE LOVES IT THOUGH

-He loves being at your mercy, he wants you to use him.

-Don’t deny that this man would be into wearing collars. HE WILL LITERALLY BUY ONE THAT SAYS “(Name’s)” (yk like you own him) ofc out of the bedroom you feel bad, but he likes being yours so uh.. yeah!

-give this guy a blowjob HE’LL DIEEE, of arousal of course.~~

-I’m scared but this guy has some junk, bc you know that all tall, shy, introverted men in these kinds of shows have BIG THONG-ALONG so he be packin’

-Loves hair tugging, but be gentle, he’s sensitive <33

-being sensitive, he’s also easy to arouse and satisfy.

-he’s a bit of a k!nky btch. Not as k!nky as Dazai tho but that’s a whole different can of worms.

-aftercare game isn’t bad. He pampers you with affection.

APOLOGIES IF THE SMUT SECTION WAS CRINGYY (I’m not used to writing stuff like that but I hope you at least enjoy) 😭

#poe bsd #edgar allen poe bsd #poe smut #poe x reader #poe bungou stray dogs #poe x y/n #smut #bsd fluff

[insolenthare]

Listen ConcernedApe I just wanna talk...

... about what these different things could be. And I just need things to think and type about. (This is going to be a WALL of text, fyi.)

I do not know what is considered a 'mini festival'. If it is like what the Winter Night Market is, then I get it; A festival that doesn't stop you from going into a part of the map to set up and time will still progress while it takes place. As for what they could be? No idea.

The only thing I can guess is that there is a high chance that none of the new festivals will happen in Winter, due to it having the WNM along with Feast of the Winter Star and the Ice Festival.

There is a mod out there that adds a festival that I would personally love to see in vanilla game play called the Festival of the Mundane. it changes the sewer map into a fun carnival for the Shadow People that you have to wear a mask to attend. Obviously it can't be that exactly but I had to give it a mention.

Okay, so, what is this thing? Honestly, judging by the shape and the circle in the middle, I want to say this is a seed for a Stardrop fruit. Maybe in the update it will be our turn to actually try and grow one of these instead of being gifted the fabled fruit.

But that also makes me wonder, how hard will it be to get this seed to maturity? I mean, the Sweet Gem Berry takes a whole month, same with the Ancient Fruit. Maybe growing a Stardrop would take a whole year? Maybe a whole year of manually watering the plant yourself (no sprinkler) to prove that you have earned that extra 34 points to your energy bar?

I love CA's art style, very occasionally I will not be able to tell what things are and I want to make this clear, I think that adds to the charm of the game's art style.

This is the case here, because I can tell this is most likely a crop of some sort, but that is all. Because it is three of the crop bunched together, I think it might come from a plant that gives out more than one at harvest; Like Blueberries and Coffee beans. Maybe these are just plain ol' beans, lol. For a small bit, I thought this might be Jicama, but I am not sure about that any more.

Fish TV Fish TV Fish TV. I have been wondering what this could be for a while now but I have no clue. We have the Worm Bin that makes us bait and Fishing Ponds can be used to breed fish if used in a certain way, so I have no idea what this machine could do.

I straight up think this is the top part of an avocado tree. I have seen people call this a bush but the rounded shape in the middle is screaming at me that it is a ripe Avocado ready to be picked. Maybe I am wrong and it is something else, but I swear I know what I am looking at.

I think a lot of SDV players are in the late-game, if not the end game portion of their files so this is awesome to see!

Something I did not expect to see is a new totem though. We have 5 different warp totems and a Rain Totem at the moment, so this tells me that either;

1) This totem does something similar to the rain totem where you use it and something about the next day is assured. When you have the best luck for the day, the fortune teller Welwick has a Purple Stardrop over their head, and this totem is a very happy looking one with purple... frills? This might be a very weak connection but I can see this being a totem that grants the best luck for the next day.

or 2) We might be getting a new area entirely that requires its own warp totem. I feel like something that big would be listed here, but I can't fully rule it out considering what most of the totems do in-game.

Turning to the remaining tea cup and the ... other thing now. Being able to craft a new tea might mean we are getting another new crop to grow the different kind of tea leaves needed for it. No idea what sort of buffs this tea could grant but the Green Tea we can brew doesn't give any buffs besides more health and energy so really, anything is good. (I actually love the thought of growing different tea bushes than just the one we have now because it would add some variety to my Tea Bush Fence I have around my barns and coops.)

As for what I can only describe as a Quiver, I literally have no idea. This is probably something we would unlock while expanding the Combat skill? Maybe a new weapon type? Maybe we will be able to handle a Bow as a more powerful upgrade from the Slingshot? Or maybe this is just a pencil bag and we will get a new fetch quest to return Jas's lost art supplies. I literally have no idea.

That explains this image than.

It makes sense that Ginger Island would need a tune up if you go the Joja route. A dirty capitalist doesn't deserve the magical whimsy the Island has to offer /jking. The clearly fake government drone bird is still in an area that doesn't have an upgrade available at the moment so I have no idea if it for something you can currently purchase with golden walnuts or something new entirely, we will just have to wait and see.

And 100+ new lines of dialogue!! Yes!!! Not sure what more to say with this one, it is something people have been wanting for a long time and I am ready for more reasons to talk to the different characters again.

**rubs my filthy hands together** If there is any other thing that could possibly hint towards a new area to explore, it is that ticket. Imagine being able to finally use that empty train platform at the top of the map, and riding a train all the way to the new area, aaaaa

It is most likely something to do with the new festivals though. In fact, I think all of these things will probably be in the new festivals. The ticket will probably be something you earn in a festival that will rival the Stardew Valley Fair. I know the box looks like one of the boxes that can wash ashore on the beach farm, but it could easily be a purchasable mystery box of sorts. Something you can buy at a carnival stand. And definitely not Shane in the hoodie there is probably a random NPC to be in the background. Or..

... That is straight up Shane's new winter sprite and he grows facial hair to help keep warm. He is absolutely the type to still wear shorts in the snow, don't at me.

For real though

This is adorable and it is getting me through. The mods that give the characters alternate winter outfits are so very valid. (Actually, I wonder if this will break those mods? Not sure.)

Not going to lie, I definitely will need a very good reward to do anything with the normal billboard requests at this point.

But 8 player multiplayer, holy cow. I know there is an exploit that, once used, can allow for almost any number of players on your farm, but this is great for people who do not want to crack open the game files and mess around with the numbers. I am waiting to be blown away by a fully functioning 8 person farm.

I mentioned this before on my Twitter, and I know this is asking for a whole hecking lot, but I would kill for a Nonbinary They/Them option for the game. I know this would mean hours and hours of rewriting though. Can't help but to want it though. I would love to be able to run to the Wizard's tower and chop off my farmer's gender, heh.

NEW FARM TYPE THOUGH. I know that would mean restarting on a whole new farm (Something I have done recently and don't really want to do all over again) but what more can be offered in terms of farming space?? I know the sky is the limit, but I have this idea of a hard mode; where you have very little farm space over all. Though it could be used to make small, cute and cozy farms that value aesthetic over profit. I have a habit of always going for profit so this would be kind of challenging to me, working on making a nice looking farm.

Also, as a huge lore junkie, I am definitely looking forward to new secrets. Does any one remember when we discovered the weird statues by putting random items in different boxes around the map? There are still some boxes that are just out there but we can't interact with! I would love to see something being done with those.

A couple more things I want to mention that I do not see a lot of people talking about, which I find very weird but eh.

New... Frogs? Their names are Tails, Shadow and Sonic, respectively. Seriously though, you know how we have Golden, Void and Blue chickens? Are... Are we going to be able to farm and raise frogs? Frogs have always just been this randomly happening creature when you cut grass but look at these cute little guys. I know they could still just be a random background element but the different colors just threw me off.

And lastly

I am looking through the map and I can't find these trees? (I fully expect someone to tell me they are somewhere and I am just being dumb, hah.) They look similar to the Totally Not Avocado Tree Top, maybe if we do get a new area these trees will be there.

I don't know how to end this post. I just like to talk. Peace.

#stardew valley #long post #ash gets deep #I do not care if I typo'd or misspelled anything I am not going back we die like men

[spikeface]

what do you think scott and stiles' dynamic was like before scott got bitten? i always wished we got a flashback because i looove scott during those first 5 minutes of the first episode (and also to see him with his justin bieber hair plus stiles in a backwards cap again)

Thank you for this ask! I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to reply. 

A preface: my thoughts are based on canon, but what we have is sketchy enough that I think there’s plenty of room for different interpretations and headcanons. A lot of my thoughts come from the single data point of “Wolf Moon,” and as Lydia says, that’s not enough for a pattern.

I accept Posey and O’Brien’s headcanon that the two of them meet as toddlers in the sandbox at the playground, and add that Scott is living with his dad while Stiles’ mother dies, which explains why Scott doesn’t know much about her form of dementia, or Stiles’ panic attacks afterwards. In my mind, the two of them were close weird-kid friends before those things happened. Once Scott comes back, however, they become joined at the hip, a mix of simpatico and abandonment issues. In “Wolf Moon,” I see a dynamic where each of them gets to be his real self, and benefits from the other being his real self.

Between his parents’ divorce and his family’s financial issues, I think Scott feels a lot of pressure—both real and self-imposed—to be responsible, to not be a burden. Largely, he manages. He has a job, and gets decent grades, and grabs the groceries, and brings his mother dinner at the hospital. He’s a good kid who doesn’t complain or make problems. Melissa says she doesn’t have a lot of practice playing tough mom. We also see Scott agonize about messing any of that up, however: losing an inhaler, doing poorly on a test, disappointing his mother. The most obvious example to me is when he’s extremely stressed about being late to work (“Pack Mentality”):

SCOTT: Sorry. Sorry.

DEATON: You're all of two minutes late.

SCOTT: I just don't want you to think I'm slacking.

DEATON: Scott, I guarantee you, you're one of the least slacking kids in this town.

Scott acts like being two minutes late, one time, will cause Dr. Deaton to lose faith in him, even though he’s been firmly established in Deaton’s mind as a reliable employee. For Scott, any misstep is an opportunity to lose everything.

His friendship with Stiles is a break from that stress. Stiles wants to do something completely irresponsible like go into the woods to look for a body on the night before tryouts. We see Scott go, and then criticize the idea (“Wolf Moon”):

SCOTT: We're seriously doing this?

STILES: You're the one always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town.

SCOTT: I was trying to get a good night's sleep before practice tomorrow.

STILES: Right, 'cause sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort.

SCOTT: No, because I'm playing this year. In fact, I'm making first line.

STILES: Hey, that's the spirit! Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one.

SCOTT: Just out of curiosity, which half of the body are we looking for?

STILES: Huh! I didn't even think about that.

SCOTT: And what if whoever killed the body is still out here?

STILES: Also something I didn't think about.

SCOTT: It's comforting to know you've planned this out with your usual attention to detail.

Some people read this as Scott being against the whole enterprise but doing it out of love for Stiles, which the text doesn’t dispute. I see it, however, as Scott indulging in the having-your-cake-and-eating-it pleasure of doing something you want to do but know you shouldn’t, while also criticizing it, which he can do thanks to the fact that Stiles comes up with the idea and insists they do it. Scott gets to do something irresponsible and complain and be an asthmatic little sarcastic kid, all things he doesn’t have a lot of room to do in his day-to-day life. Most importantly, Scott isn’t worried about losing Stiles’ regard as a result of any of that. I can even see Stiles’—admittedly snide—line about Scott’s “pathetically unrealistic” dreams being read by Scott in this light. Stiles doesn’t give a shit if Scott makes first line or not, because their friendship isn’t dependent on Scott’s achievements or behavior.

Stiles, meanwhile, is different from Scott in that he isn’t worried that he might mess up, but rather convinced he is messed up. He seems resigned to the (false) ideas that he killed his mother, and is a burden to his father, and is generally an unlikeable problem child. I read much of his attempts to help his friends and family as him trying to make up for the “fact” that he is unloveable, rather than prove himself worthy of love. As a result, it’s incredibly meaningful to him that Scott loves him the way he is. Even Scott’s criticisms of his plan are simply proof that Scott knows exactly who Stiles is, and is still there with him.

It isn’t as visible in those first scenes of “Wolf Moon,” but I think the last piece of this dynamic is that Scott trusts Stiles to get him out of whatever trouble they get into. Stiles gets the reputation as the man with the plan, but even he says it’s more about the plan to fix things once everything goes haywire: “You know, I actually used to be the one with the plan... Well, or at least a plan B” (“The Overlooked”). In “Wolf Moon,” Stiles’ plan is to go out in the woods at night. That’s pretty much the entirety of it, and he doesn’t seem all that fussed about the lack of detail. But then, when he’s caught, he nails the lie to his father to cover for Scott. He can’t pick Scott up in his Jeep, as he’ll do later in the season when Scott is lost and alone in the woods, but he’s there the next morning to check in. He goes with Scott to look for his inhaler. He does research about what could have bitten Scott. This dynamic fits, for me, with the idea that Stiles is fatalistically resigned to the idea that he’s a bad influence, but tells himself that he can make up for it. He’s got Plan B. We don’t see enough of Scott and Stiles before the bite to confirm it, but it makes sense to me that between his quick thinking, his bravery, his car, and the fact that he’s the sheriff’s son, Stiles can get them out of trouble.

The tragedy of all of this, of course, is how the bite changes everything. Suddenly, Stiles finds that the trouble he can usually worm his way out of has gotten a lot more serious, and he has to work to find a way to be helpful in a life or death situation. Scott, meanwhile, has no more space to be a kid. His emotions now have life or death stakes, as we see when his irritation with Stiles telling him not to go to the party suddenly turns into him nearly hitting Stiles. Scott now really does have no room to make mistakes, or do something irresponsible, or be a kid. He can’t be a teen wolf. He’s got to be a werewolf.

#teen wolf meta #teen wolf headcanon #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #long post

[writethelifeyouwant]

Red

Summary: Y/N has been having an infuriating dry spell in the love department lately, thanks to lockdown, and her roommate Jensen is getting fed up with her attitude. So, he lets her in on a little secret…

Pairing: Danneel x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: female masturbation, talk of male masturbation, phone sex, dirty talk, praise kink, light degradation, lockdown was hard on singletons but great for phone sex operators Word Count: 4.5k Created for: @anyfandomgoesbingo - Sex Hotline AU | @spnkinkbingo - Tribbing

A/N: Requested by @danneelsmain - hope this lived up to your expectations babe! I haven't written Danneel before but I really enjoyed writing this ❤️

“Yes... yes... yesyesyes–”

“Hey, Y/N!” Bang, bang, bang! “Hurry up in there will ya? I’m dyin’ here,” Jensen jiggled the doorknob to no avail, and Y/N was incredibly thankful she’d remembered to lock it this time.

I’m dying here, Y/N thought to herself, pulling the shower head from between her legs with a frustrated huff, the water swirling down the drain carrying the fading vestiges of her almost-orgasm with it. She had been so close. Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Just a minute!” she shouted, frustration tipping over into anger. The knob on the faucet was twisted to the ‘off’ position with unnecessary violence, and the shower curtain was attached at one less ring than it had been half an hour ago when it was yanked open to settle against the back wall of the tub.

Bang! Ban–

“Seriously, Jensen?!” Y/N barely had the towel secured around herself before she threw open the door, hastily ducking to avoid Jensen’s knock-in-progress.

“Thank fuck.” Jensen danced around Y/N and shoved the door shut, sending Y/N slipping across the tiles on her still-wet feet and locking her on the other side. The clearly audible hiss of Jensen relieving himself leaked through the door and Y/N growled in frustration, aiming a kick at the door before stomping down the hallway to her room.

He couldn’t have waited ten more seconds…

It had been bad enough that lockdown got them all stuck at home with no possibility of one night stands, or follow-up booty calls to keep her sex drive in check, but now Y/N was having an even bigger problem. She hadn’t been able to get herself over the finish line for at least two weeks, and she had no earthly idea as to why. Y/N was beginning to think that regular orgasms were part of the reason that she was usually nice to be around, because right now she felt like she was one bad joke away from stabbing somebody.

And that someone was likely to be Jensen.

Tucked up into the corner of the couch was Y/N’s standard position these days. She wasn’t sure what was playing on the TV, something as mindless as she felt right now.

“Budge up.” Jensen hit her feet and flopped back gracelessly on top of them without giving her the chance to move them.

“Ow, asshole!” A pillow whipped through the air and collided squarely with the side of Jensen’s face.

“What is your problem lately?”

“You, clearly,” Y/N snapped, pulling her knees into her chest defensively. Jensen raised a single eyebrow, giving her a pointed look. “No, it’s not you,” Y/N admitted, letting some of her aggression seep out of her frame with her words. “Sorry.”

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

There was a stiff silence between them, Jensen waiting for Y/N to break and answer his question and Y/N knowing that she didn’t want to talk about this with Jensen but not seeing a way out of the conversation. Jensen had an irritating habit of getting her to open up about things she never planned on telling people – like the fact that she was gay. And now he was about to hear far more about her sex life than she ever wanted to share with someone of the male species.

“I’m, um,” her cheeks were on fire as she glanced up to see Jensen looking back at her with concerned curiosity. “I’m… having a problem,” she finished lamely.

“Okay…”

“I can’t… Do you ever–” Y/N choked on the words every time they tried to bubble through. “So… um, it’s– it’s been a while.” She saw comprehension flash over Jensen’s freckled face a moment later.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You know PornHub has a whole section for lesbian shit, right?” Another pillow hits him in the face. “Okay, okay, ow,” Jensen rubs his jaw in exaggeration. “But seriously, it’s been a while for everyone. You just gotta take business into your own hands.”

“You don’t think I’ve been doing that?” Y/N hissed, unconsciously checking around them as if someone else was in their apartment who might overhear.

“Well then what’s the problem?”

“I haven’t like,” Y/N made a variety of nonsequitous hand motions that had no bearing on the word ‘orgasm’ but Jensen seemed to get the message.

“How long?” he cringed.

“Like, almost three weeks? And it’s not like I haven’t been trying like, everything, I just… can’t,” she shrugged helplessly. “Has this kind of thing ever happened to you? Is there something like, physically wrong with me?”

“No, no, I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with you,” Jensen rushed to reassure her, patting her leg awkwardly. “This kind of thing happens all the time.”

“So it’s happened to you too?” Hope shone from Y/N’s face that maybe she wasn’t doomed to a life empty of sexual pleasure.

“Well… no, not exactly.” Y/N’s shoulders drooped, hopes slashed.

“How are you staying so sane?” Y/N accused. “You used to be with a different girl every few days before all of this.”

“Hey! I was not,” Jensen was mock offended but Y/N could tell he was also a little proud. “And I’ve, uh… I’ve got my sources,” his eyes twinkled mischievously as he answered her question.

“Jensen Ross Ackles, have you been sneaking out behind my back!”

“No,” he rolled his eyes, “nothing like that.” Jensen pulled out his phone and started scrolling through the screen as Y/N watched.

“Jen, if you’re trying to show me porn, I’m good. Don’t need to see what you get off to,” Y/N shuddered at the thought. A text beeped on her phone a second later, Jensen’s name popping up on the screen.

“That’s my source,” he explains and she opens the message to see a 1-800 number, next to the word Red.

“Red?”

“Red.” Jensen confirmed with a wicked grin, nodding sagely.

Y/N could not believe she was about to do this. She looked down at the number on her phone screen, ready to dial as soon as she pressed the little green button. Jensen’s assurances echoed in her head. Best phone sex I’ve ever had… she actually gets off with you, she’s not just faking it… sounds so hot, and her body is killer in her profile pic. Admittedly, the picture he’d shown her had been really fucking sexy. A slender girl in small red panties and unfairly pretty breasts cradled in a satin bra covered in little hearts, dark red hair pinned up around her face in a vintage style.

Before she could talk herself out of it again, Y/N pressed dial and held the phone up to her ear. It rang a few times before connecting to an automated menu, and Y/N was secretly relieved she wouldn’t have to ask an operator if she could speak to ‘Red’.

Thank you for calling the Sugar Lips Hotline. Please enter your card details to continue.

Jensen had warned her about this part, so she had her card sitting out of her wallet on the desk in front of her.

If you know who you are trying to reach, please press one. If you would like to be assigned a random operator, please press two.

Y/N shakily pressed the number one, and then put the phone on speaker while she was at it.

If you would like to speak with Candy, press one, followed by the pound key. If you would like to speak with Kitty, press two, followed by the pound key. If you would like to speak with Lance…

Y/N wondered if she would still have the confidence to go through with this by the time the robotic voice mentioned ‘Red’.

If you would like to speak with Red, press thirteen, followed by the pound key.

The moment of truth. Y/N entered the number 13 and then pressed the pound key. The line began to ring again.

“Hi there,” a temptingly soft voice slipped through the receiver of the phone sitting on the desk in front of her.

“Hi-i,” Y/N’s voice was jarring in comparison, breaking on the first word she uttered.

“Oh, so I’ve got a pretty little girl on the line today, huh?” Y/N didn’t know how to answer so she didn’t, hands frozen in a death grip on the sleeves of her too big sweatshirt. “What’s your name, baby?”

“Y/N,” she whispered back, suddenly scared that Jensen would be able to hear every word being said in her room. Quickly digging into her pockets she pulled out her headphones and plugged them into her cell. Why hadn’t she done that earlier?

“That’s such a pretty name, baby,” the woman cooed, and now her voice was right against Y/N’s ears; it felt like she was in the room, whispering against her skin. “I’m Red.”

“That’s what I should call you?” Y/N managed to keep the tremor out of her words this time.

“Unless you want to call me something else? I can be whoever you want me to be baby girl. Mommy, ma’am, mistress…” Y/N’s heart thundered against her ribs. She realised that she had no idea what she wanted from this – she just knew she was desperate. “Or maybe you want to be in charge? I could be your baby, your good little girl.” Y/N wished she could see Red right now, watch what she looked like as she purred all these promises down the line, teasing and tempting.

“Is,” Y/N gulped, “is there anyone you want me to be?”

“Nuh-uh,” she tutted, and Y/N could imagine her shaking her head, red curls flying by her cheeks. “This is all about you Y/N. I’m here to make you feel good.”

Y/N felt a lick of heat curl in the base of her stomach, twisting itself around her intestines.

“Yeah, I could use that,” she laughed nervously, figuring she should be honest if she wanted this to work out well. And she really needed it to.

“Oh, have you been feeling a little pent up baby?” Red’s voice echoed in Y/N’s ears. The small vibrations coming out of her earbuds were enough to start sending a pulsing sensation down the side of her neck, worming its way under her skin and into her veins. Christ, it had been too long.

“You have no idea.”

“Well, I betcha we can fix that. Are you somewhere comfortable sweetie?”

“I could get on the bed?” Y/N offered, wondering why she hadn’t started there in the first place, rather than at her desk.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Red purred seductively. “Why don’t you stretch out on the bed, get yourself nice and cozy. Maybe prop a pillow up next to you and think about me snuggling you in real close. Wish I could be there to put my hands all over your body.”

Y/N was thankful she was already sitting on her bed by the time Red finished painting her little scene because if she’d been walking, she’s pretty sure her knees would have given out.

“Fuck, it’s been so long since I felt another girl’s hands on me.” She tried not to be embarrassed at how whimpery her voice had gone. If this went well it was about to get a whole lot worse anyways.

“I want to touch every inch of you,” Red breathed heavily. “Run my fingers through your hair, over your neck, down your back. Would I find a bra there to unhook, baby?”

“Yeah,” Y/N sighed, arching her shoulders and feeling the band scratch taught around her ribs, pushing her breast up towards her chin.

“Why don’t you take that off for me?”

“Okay,” Y/N felt her voice shake as much as her hands as she reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, breathing deeply when the pressure of the garment disappeared.

“Bet that felt good, didn’t it baby?” Red laughed knowingly.

“Yeah,” Y/N agreed, loosening up a little at the acknowledgement of a shared experience, something all girls could relate to. She pulled her arms through the straps beneath her sweatshirt and shimmying the discarded bra out the bottom before pushing her arms back through her sleeves. The peaks of her nipples tightened as they caught on the pills of fleece that now sat against her chest.

“What else are you wearing?”

Suddenly embarrassed she hadn’t thought to put on anything sexy in preparation for this call, Y/N didn’t manage more than an “um…” before Red laughed, a warm sound that melted into her like chocolate against your tongue.

“Why don’t I tell you what I’m wearing?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded before she remembered that Red couldn’t see her. “Bet it’s something really sexy,” she attempted to flirt, cringing at how awkward she sounded.

“Well that depends,” Red mused. “Do you like lace?”

“Yeah,” Y/N breathed. She loved seeing girls in lace lingerie; the way the delicate weave of the pattern offered small tastes of the skin it covered, the way you could feel someone’s warmth seeping through such a thin fabric so easily, the way it felt to have someone touch you or suck you through such a meagre sheet of modesty…

“What about stockings?” Red voice broke through Y/N’s train of thought, pulling her back to the vaguely out of body experience she was having.

“Love them,” Y/N answered quietly, trying to pitch her voice the way Red was, low and alluring.

“Well, that’s a shame,” she sighed dramatically. “Because I’m not wearing anything at all right now, sorry to disappoint.” Y/N couldn’t see her but she would bet anything Red was wearing a big pout right now. She wondered what her lips looked like. In her head she pictured soft and pillowy.

“You are such a tease,” Y/N laughed, hoping to disguise the pang of arousal that had shot through her a moment before.

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you baby?”

“Yeah, I really do,” Y/N found herself admitting unconsciously.

“Are you gonna keep teasing me, or are you gonna get naked too baby girl?”

A throb of desire fluttered between Y/N’s legs, her pussy clenching, and when she squirmed back into her pillow a little she felt the lace fabric of her own panties sliding a little more between her thighs. Her arousal had started to soak out of her and into the material.

“You want me naked?” Y/N’s words scratched their way out of her throat, trying to pull her confidence along with them.

“Oh god, please baby,” Red moaned loudly, but it didn’t sound fake. It was like Jensen had told her, it sounded like she was really enjoying this, and like she was actually getting off on what was happening between them right now. “Want to feel your skin against mine.”

“I want that too, baby,” Y/N’s hasty breaths shook her words. She stripped out of her underwear and shoved her phone and headphones down the front of her sweatshirt so she could shimmy it over her head without disconnecting the earbuds. She didn’t want to miss anything.

“God, if I was there I would kiss all over you. Bet you taste amazing,” Red sighed, and Y/N could hear something shifting over the phone, like fabric moving around.

“Are you on your bed too?” Y/N asked.

“Yep, all spread out for you baby girl.”

“Are you touching yourself?” Y/N’s confidence was starting to build as she heard how much Red sounded like she’s into this, and she couldn’t deny she was turned on too. She felt wetter than she’d been in weeks, and when her fingers drifted down over her stomach its muscles twitched in anticipation of where she was about to touch.

“Where do you want me to touch?” Y/N let her eyes slide closed, and she could imagine Red batting her lashes as she asked - where do you want me to touch? - She pictured the girl she’d seen in the photo poised over her, legs straddling Y/N’s hips as Red ran her hands over her own body, fingers trailing over her throat, fondling her breasts, twisting around the pink flesh at the tips of each, lingering on the soft of her stomach before dipping lower.

“I want you to touch between your legs and tell me how wet you are,” Y/N said between deep breaths, trying to keep her voice even.

“I’m already so wet for you, baby,” Red gasped, and Y/N hoped it was a reaction to her fingers slipping inside her pussy.

“If you were here with me, what would you do right now?”

“I’d make you watch me fuck myself on my fingers.” Holy shit, Y/N couldn’t help the moan that bled through her lips, and she heard Red chuckle. “Yeah, you like the sound of that baby?”

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N whimpered, her own fingers finally making their way between her legs and sliding easily through the slick she found there.

“I’d straddle myself right over your face, so you could see my fingers fucking my pussy, feel me dripping on you.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“And then, when my fingers are nice and soaked, you’re gonna suck them clean like a good little girl, aren’t you sweetheart?” Red’s monologue was absolutely wrecking Y/N, she wanted everything the woman on the end of the line was describing so badly. “Want you to do it to yourself, since I can’t be there to do it for you. Can you get those fingers nice and wet for me baby?”

“Fuck, yeah, okay.” Y/N pushed two fingers inside her pussy, clenching around them wantonly. She must have let out some kind of noise because Red giggled again before she continued talking.

“That’s it, fuck yourself for me baby girl, until I can do it for you.” And fucking hell, the thought of Red actually with her, touching her, fucking her… “Your fingers nice and dirty now?”

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N squeaked, pressing against her g-spot to get herself even wetter.

“Good girl,” Red hummed. “Now suck them clean for me, Y/N. Want you to taste just how sweet you are. God, wish I could taste you too,” she moaned, her breath hitching.

Y/N obeyed Red’s instructions, sucking her fingers into her mouth and twirling her tongue around them, curling it across the dips and whorls of her fingertips. She groaned around the digits in her mouth, trying to make it audible that she was doing as she was told.

“Good girl,” Red cooed again, obviously hearing Y/N’s sucking. “Good filthy girl. You’re so dirty aren’t you baby, bet you’re dripping onto the sheets right now you’re so horny.”

“Oh my god,” Y/N felt her whole body clenching as she pushed her hand back between her legs, toying with her clit and sending fresh jolts of desire to her core. “Fuck, I’m touching myself again. Couldn’t help it, you’re so hot baby.”

“I want you to touch yourself sweetie. Want you to make yourself feel so good.”

“I want you to feel good too,” Y/N whimpered, maybe stupidly, but she remembered Jensen saying that Red got off with him and she wanted the same thing. She wanted to know that Red wanted her, that Red found her sexy. She didn’t want to be in this alone.

“Oh, I am feeling so good baby girl,” Red assured Y/N, her voice brimming with sincerity and whimpers to back it up. “Fucking myself so good, pretending it’s your fingers inside me.”

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Y/N couldn’t come up with anything more eloquent than that. The more she played with herself the foggier her brain got.

“What are you imaging right now?”

“Thinking about you, you on top of me.”

“You want me on top, huh? Want me to hold you down a little, baby?”

“Mm, yeah,” Y/N sighed, slipping two fingers from her free hand down to her entrance and pushing them inside, keeping her other hand on her clit, rolling it between her fingers. “You could hold me down, grind yourself against me. Use me to get yourself off.” Y/N’s breathing was ragged now, and the fingers inside her pussy sought out her g-spot again, starting to focus their efforts a little more concertedly on the spongy bundle of nerves.

“Oh sweetie, that’s so hot, fuck,” Red moaned heavily, her breath catching on her curse. “I’d grind against you so good. Rub our pussies together, all slick and hot, grind my clit against yours nice and hard. Fuck, touch your clit for me baby.”

“I am,” Y/N gasped, drawing fast little circles over the nub between her legs. “Fuck, want all that so bad. Think you could come like that? Just from rubbing your pussy on me, getting me all wet and dirty?”

“Fuck yes, love rubbing my pussy on yours, love grinding our clits together. I could tease you so good. Go nice and slow, wonder how long you’d last before you start begging me to let you cum.”

“I’m close,” Y/N whimpered, surprised at how true it was. She hadn’t gotten so close to cumming this quickly in ages.

“Already baby? You naughty little girl,” Red groaned, and the sound of bed springs crackled through Y/N’s earbuds too. Y/N pictured Red arching off the bed, fucking her hips into her fingers. “You want to cum for me baby?”

“Fuck, yes, yes please,” Y/N begged, feeling the muscles in her thighs and stomach starting to constrict, heat singing through her veins.

“Not yet baby, keep fucking yourself.” Y/N let out a pathetic whine in protest. “You can do that for me, can’t you sweetie. Fuck yourself on those pretty little fingers for me?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“Good girl, I’m so fucking close baby.”

“Fuck, please, want you to cum. Want you to cum with me.” Y/N’s eyes squeezed tight as small pinpricks of light started to burst in the darkness of her vision.

“Gonna cum for you, baby girl,” Red cried, voice high and tight. “Fuck, I’m gonna squirt, I can feel it. Gonna squirt all over your pussy, fucking soak you.”

“Oh my god,” Y/N felt like she might actually start crying, she needed to cum so badly. She was so so so close.

“Rub that little clitty, pretend it’s me rubbing up against you. All hot and wet,” her voice was breaking, her words short and breathless, and Y/N could tell Red was as close as she was. “Gonna cum all over you. Fuck, gonna squirt so hard bet I could actually cum inside you.”

“Holy fuck!” Y/N’s hips snapped into the air, searching for the imaginary body she wished was there. It was becoming hard to hear through the intense buzzing in her ears. Every nerve in her body was pulled taut, ready to snap.

“Cum for me Y/N, c’mon baby, you can do it, want you to cum for me like the good little girl you are baby, c’mon.”

Y/N was sobbing, wrist pistoning her fingers in and out of herself faster than she ever remembered being able to move, and she felt the walls of her pussy clamping down, trying to keep the pressure inside where it wanted it. And then she couldn’t take it anymore. Everything froze. She might have screamed, but to be honest she couldn’t be too sure, because she couldn’t hear anything except the white light that had flooded the dark space behind her eyelids.

Lockdown became much more bearable after that day. Though Y/N did have to try really hard to not think about the fact that she and Jensen were kind of fucking the same girl. In a way. It was weird. But if she ignored that part, then her ‘dates’ with Red were perfect. She was finally able to release all the tension, sexual and otherwise, that this whole mess had building up in her system constantly. And eventually, the world started to open back up and things started to get just a little bit easier.

Y/N wondered what she would do when lockdown was well and truly over. When the bars and clubs opened up again, would she and Jensen go out and try to hook up like they always had before? Would everything just go back to normal? Would she still want to call Red if she was getting actual sex with a real girl, and not just her hand or a bit of silicone? Yes. The answer was most definitely yes, Y/N had to admit to herself. Even though it was just phone sex, it was still some of the best sex she’d ever had.

Well, Red is a professional, she thought to herself wryly as she spooned some froth onto the top of the cappuccino she was making. The coffee shop she worked at had reopened last week, finally.

“Y/N! Can you jump on register while I take my break?” Michelle called from the end of the counter.

“Sure thing,” Y/N smiled and wiped her hands off on her apron, making her way behind the other baristas to the cash register. She briefly glanced at the line of people waiting to order – a couple of college kids carrying some scary looking textbooks, a portly man scratching his bald patch, a pretty girl with shiny hair and awesome winged liner. Y/N blushed as she caught the eye of the girl, and immediately looked back at her tablet, typing in her register code.

“Hi there, what can I get you?” Y/N’s customer service voice was alarmingly cheery, and the two college guys blinked, startled, clearly still unused to interacting with humans again – Y/N knew the feeling, cringing internally. She made a note to dial the pep back a little.

“Hey, what can I get you?” It was the pretty girl at the front of the line now.

“Um, I’ll have a caramel latte, please,” she answered with a bright smile, red lips stretching across shockingly white teeth.

“Size?” Y/N asked, tapping the order into her tablet.

“How big can you make it?” the girl giggled, and Y/N looked up, something tugging at the back of her mind.

“Um, large?” Y/N answered absentmindedly, trying to figure out what was bugging her so much. The girl just nodded, politely accepting the fact that Y/N had skated over her joke. “Can I get a name for the order?” She grabbed the large sized cup and uncapped the marker, hand poised over the white cardboard, ready to write.

“Oh, sure. It’s Danneel.”

“Danielle?” Y/N asked, her mind still wandering.

“No, Dan– you know what, it’s a weird name. Just go with Red.”

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#spnkinkbingo #anyfandomgoesbingo #danneel x reader #sex hotline au #lesbian pairing #danneel ackles #danneel harris #fxf #red #writethelifeyouwant

[adhd-disaster-willie]

it’s not the waking, it’s the rising

I was gonna ask if you guys are ready to cry at nine in the morning but who am I kidding, this fandom is always crying

summary: Caleb put a cross on Alex’s suit; Alex comes to terms with this, among other things

warning: christianity, religious trauma

word count: 1,542

---

There was a song. When Alex was a kid, there was a song that his mother would sing to him every night before bed. Something soft that felt like home. She’d press a kiss to his forehead and pull the covers up to his chin and ask him if he’d said his prayers that night. He doesn’t remember the lyrics anymore, and he knows if he did, it wouldn’t feel like home ever again. 

It’s late at night and if he shuts his eyes, Alex can focus on Luke’s arm around his shoulder and Reggie’s thrown over his stomach, Julie’s dark curls pressing against his cheek. They’re all asleep, and the studio is eerily quiet; he can hear a draft coming in from the bottom of the door, and the ticking of an old clock that’s been on the wall since 1993. He remembers the day they got that clock. It was old and dusty even when they bought it from the corner of a thrift shop. Bobby claimed that they had to have some sort of way to tell the time when they were rehearsing, and Luke never replaced the batteries in his watch. Alex blinks slowly, inhaling the scent of the night, crisp and warm. His fingers are curled around the pin on the lapels of his suit jacket, trembling slightly. He traces the ridges in the cross with his nail and it feels heart achingly familiar, yet foreign at the same time. It doesn’t make any sense. 

He hadn’t noticed it at first, too busy with the worries of escaping the club and crossing over and then the joy of being free. But now it’s prodding at every nook and cranny in his mind, pulling at memories and things that are too compressed and faded to be called memories, but too real to be anything else.

Alex blinks roughly and suddenly he’s ten years old, sitting, cramped, at the end of the pew, with his little sister asleep against his shoulder.

“...that man shall not lay with man...” 

Alex doesn’t quite know what it means, but the way he says it feels like his voice is boring directly into Alex’s soul. He picks at the frayed edges of his shoelaces and exhales slowly. Murmurs of assent course throughout the church. His mother, his father, his sunday school teacher, Mr and Mrs. Daniels from across the street, everyone. He wants to ask his mother what the pastor means by this, but suddenly he blinks.

Alex is back in the studio, breath ragged like sandpaper. He digs his nails into his palm, stomach churning at the lack of sensation. If he were still alive, he’d open his hand to reveal purple crescents, but he’s not. He’s not alive and maybe that’s for the best, his parents are probably happier without him tainting their reputation. He closes his eyes, trying to erase the memories.

He’s 12. His room is cold and his cheeks are streaked with fresh tears. He cups his hands over his ears, begging the noise to go away. It’s all so, so much. It’s trying to kill him, he’s sure of it. It’s punishment. He bites at his lip until it bleeds, tells himself he deserves it.

It’s the devil, that’s what his mom would say. ‘Satan has wormed his way into your mind.’ But that’s the problem isn’t it? It feels real, it feels like him. It’s his fault, it’s his fault, it’s all his fault.

That’s the night he creates The Plan. The Plan is to marry a nice girl, a church girl with blond ringlets and rosy cheeks and a dainty smile. Maybe he’d learn to love her one day, maybe if he tried hard enough. Deep down he knows he can’t, but the idea of living a lie sounds better than the alternative. White picket fence, 2 kids, and maybe a dog. He’d be just like his parents and try his hardest to ignore the heartache.

The Plan doesn’t work out. 

Alex is tired. Tired of remembering. Tired of not remembering. Tired of the cold metal against his palm, mocking him. If he squeezes hard enough, maybe it’ll turn to dust in his hand. Maybe it’ll melt, and burn a welt in his skin, a permanent mark that should hurt but can’t no matter how much he wants it to.

He closes his eyes, wonders how he can cry. He shouldn’t even have tear ducts.

“...that none of you have had any sinful desires recently?”

Oh he’s 15 now, he’d forgotten this one.

A chorus of “no sir’s” echo through the cramped room. Alex’s voice feels disembodied, his throat dry. He’s lying, he’s lying, he’s lying. He waits with bated breath for someone to stand up and blurt it out, that Alex Mercer is a sinful liar who deserves eternal damnation.

“Remember your role as the man...” Whatever comes next is blurred. Alex shrinks into himself, blinking rapidly to hide his tears, begging for someone to take him, toss him into the ocean and let him drown. It’s what he deserves, anyway.

The studio is cold, despite it being warm outside. Alex pulls his jacket tighter around himself, every motion seeming to disturb the air.  Sometimes it feels like he’s causing a disturbance, just by being there. He remembers the dark room, remembers it all too well. It was suffocating and horrible, and he was sure it was hell. He’d curled in on himself and sobbed because his parents were right. He’d gone to hell and he’d dragged Luke and Reggie down with him.

But it wasn’t hell. And it still isn’t. Sometimes he’ll wake up in a cold sweat, feeling disoriented and numb, dreams filled with fire and screams of “It’s your fault, it’s your fault, it’s all. Your. Fault.” Alex exhales shakily, attempting to even out his breathing. He doesn’t know how he feels cold, he shouldn’t be able to. 

Alex pulls himself up, careful not to disturb his friends. They all look so peaceful and gentle, Alex wonders if that’s how he looks when he’s asleep, fragile and just… happy. He hesitates by the door, hand hovering over the handle. He doesn’t quite know where he wants to go, but there’s something pulsing in his chest telling him to leave.  

The beach is quiet. Alex pulls his shoes off and digs his feet into the sand, squeezing his eyes shut as tight as he can, just wanting to feel. The sand is cold and coarse beneath his bare feet. He pulls his gaze to the ocean, rocking rhythmically and shimmering beneath the dull moonlight. It feels like just yesterday that he was sitting, feet dangling off the pier while Luke and Bobby wrestled in the sand and Reggie read whatever book he’d nicked from the Barnes and Noble as of late. But there’s a neighborhood where the bookshop used to be, and someone else where Bobby should’ve been, and everything was different. 

Alex unpins the cross from over his heart, the weight shifting from his chest to his open palm. It’s silver, glinting in the light, and he wonders if it’ll break apart from the glow and swallow him whole. It doesn’t. Alex turns it over in his hand and runs his finger along the point, a cynical part of him wanting it to somehow draw blood that doesn’t even exist anymore.  

Everything in him is screaming to crush it beneath his heel and walk off, leaving the mangled metal on the boardwalk. But it’s like there’s still a tether wrapped tightly around his wrists, the other tied to the tall steeple on the church that had towered over him since before he could even walk. It’s knotted and disfigured and red-hot, burning him up from the inside. How can he feel so disconnected and so stuck at the same time? He wants to let go, to toss the last reminders of his parents and their influence in the sand, leave it to rot. But he can’t, he can’t, he can’t- 

“What do you want?” Bobby asks a sniffling Alex. He tilts his head, waiting for an answer.

Alex opens his mouth, shuts it. What does he want? It’s always been what his parents want, what the church tells him to do, stand rigid and smile wide. But no one’s ever asked what Alex wants. “I- I don’t know.” His voice is barely a whisper. 

“You want to drum, right? 

Alex nods fervently. “Yea, of course I do.”

“Then start with that.” Bobby squeezes his shoulder and slips from the studio, leaving Alex to clutch his backpack to his chest and ponder. 

Alex wants to be free. He realizes it finally, 25 years after Bobby asked. He turns the cross over in his hand once more; it feels like it’s left a mark over his chest, a scar. He takes a step back, swinging his arm behind his head, and he throws it. It lands in the ocean, sending a ripple through the water. And then it stills. Alex imagines it sinking down, down, down. He lets out a breathy laugh, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. There’s a scar running all across his soul, dark and prickly, but it’s healing.

---

stupid text limit. i had to turn the new post maker off to post this, so that’s fun. not looking forward to when i can’t turn it off.

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #netflixwewantjatp2 #alex mercer #jatp fic #alex mercer fic #willow writes

[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

Ransom Drysdale x Reader (Dad!AU)

Summary: Ransom Drysdale, a man who didn’t make wise decisions in his teens. Wasting three years of his life in jail, he takes his freedom for another two. Little did he know, a woman he long ago had a thing for, ends up leaving him with a 16-year-old for the holidays. Hazel Rose Drysdale. His daughter.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

This takes place after Knives Out. Family will be mentioned, there will be minor spoilers for Knives Out.

Warnings: Bad parenting, swearing, Ransom being an asshole, minor spoilers for Knives Out, angst, mentions of murder/jail, minor mental abuse, mentions of abortion/pregnancy, Mentions of suicide

I do not consent to have my work hosted on any second party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

There’s a Hamilton reference in here and I couldn’t help but throw it in there.

You always thought San Francisco was a horrible place to be on your own for. Having a job there, you’d be an hour late if you lived outside the city. This year had been tough on you. You felt like your rent was going up or that your job was getting lower paychecks. Your head was spinning every day that you could barely answer anyone’s questions. The lack of sleep you get every night, especially having to wake up every day at six. 

You fix yourself a coffee but then end up at a nearby Starbucks to grab one. They always had better coffee for your energy gain. You weren’t really a money maker, you drove a very old red Honda. You have bills coming in through the mail slot that it has you wanting to burn them to ashes. You couldn’t handle enough stress, especially having a 16-year-old daughter.

At that age that’s when you had your only precious little girl, Hazel. You always made sure she never met any boy that could have her end up like you long ago. Being a teen mom wasn’t easy. Even lying to your daughter was something you couldn’t bear to keep from. It was only to protect her.

Hazel never spoke once about who her father was. As a child, she had dolls and those dolls were a family. One mother, one daughter and a father. Hazel made them the happiest dolls in her mind. She never asked anything related to her family’s relations or where they lived.

She was home schooled since, you were too afraid to have her at school and be bullied by boys or girls. It was something you dealt with and you didn’t want that to happen to her. You didn’t have the money for her too. Gas money, bills, dinner and rent were your only priorities. To have a roof over Hazel’s head, to drive her to the library or stores to get new outfits, feed her every morning, afternoon and night. Like you said, it wasn’t easy.

Your parents live up in Oregon for a while now and you would sometimes visit them over the holidays. Their reactions to your pregnancy, it didn’t end well. The few weeks of being pregnant, they were disappointed. The father’s side of the family had been one of the most entitled families in town. You grew up in Massachusetts and when you got pregnant, your parents moved to Oregon after you had Hazel. 

And Hazel’s father abandoned you. Being 17 and 16, you were the one scared while he watched you in disgust and asked to abort your child. That decision was one of the hardest decisions of your life. Either live with the pain of delivering your baby girl or painfully lay on your bed thinking you could’ve had a good life with your daughter.

And you did have a good life whether you struggled to keep her happy. You hope no boy or man could ruin her reputation and lose hope in the world to make someone happy. “Miss L/N.” The dark velvet voice made you lose your trance and your eyes darted over to your boss. Or someone who is your guide for three years. 

Mr. Charles Leyman. His blonde hair was combed to the side, his piercing blue eyes could have any office women get lost in. His suits were always made fine by a professional and his watches always came in different colors. Surely, they were over a thousand dollars. Charles had been your guide since you joined the large business in San Francisco. He was very kind, charming and he always knew personal space. 

He always had a circle around him and it’d smell like his expensive cologne. Out of the cologne you’ve known, this one smelled like Guilty Intense. The Italian lemon, patchouli, amber, mandarin, and orange flower topping aroma was always attracting women. You wondered if he was a mama’s boy just on how much of a gentleman he was.

You saw his side grin creep up to his face, “You must be preoccupied in your own mind palace,” He mentioned towards you. Your hand reaches up to the small strand of hair and you pull it back. “Sorry.” Charles folds his hands in each other and leans on his desk. The man was in his thirties, a couple more years older than you. 

“You know, you don’t always have to apologize for everything you do that is no harm. I just didn’t want you to be stuck in your head, Miss L/N.” Your head lifts up to him. He softly grins, “I wanted to discuss your recent report on the Berkeley College. Something about the Science and Technology Event on October 28th.”

You gently tilted your head, “What about it?” Charles lifted the print of the page and scanned through as if he wasn’t sure himself what the problem was. He clicks his tongue, “You kind of repeated yourself in a couple paragraphs. Even spelling errors. Have you been using-”

You nod, eyes closing slowly out of embarrassment, “Yes, I was. But I think our internet was shut off due to th-”

“That forum doesn’t need the internet to correct your mistakes. It corrects off Wi-Fi.” You sighed softly, turning your gaze away from him and he lowers the paper down to look at you, solemnly. “Look, Miss L/N. I’m not here to criticize you, I’m here to help you. And I know you have a 16-year-old at home and the father’s passing, you-”

“I will say this once and I hope you take it as it is. I’m fine.” Charles leans back a little to your response. Watching you closely to see your hands fidget in your lap. He almost felt like a brother to you, but there were moments where he offered you to dinner and almost walked you over to your car. It was embarrassing to see him and his silver Audi. You were sure he had a Tesla. The invites to his home were always nice. Charles knew your daughter well.

They got along well and never heard a single bad thing from Hazel, saying she had a good time with Charles. Hazel always told you how much fun she had with anything, she walks over to the public library, tells you about a book she read. You know she went to the library when she texted you earlier this morning.

That day, you relaxed at your desk and looked over the recent drafts of your future reports to go on the papers. You feel your phone ring and your hand picks it up from the desk. 

Incoming call from Hazel-Bear

You picked up the phone and held it up to your ear, “Hey, baby.” 

“Hey, mom. Can you pick me up?” You look over to the wall with the clock, showing the time. You were only a few ways away. “Can you wait for 10 minutes?” You hear Hazel hum in a yes, “Yeah. I’m just sitting in the library.” You began to close your computer and logged off. “Okay, honey. I’ll text you when I get there.” You started to put your papers in your bag and slipped in your laptop. “Okay. Bye, mom! Love you.”

“Love you, too. I’ll see you.”

Hazel was always the type to listen. As a child, she wasn’t spoiled as much because of what you had as a teenager. You were glad she didn’t end up like her father. She was sweet. Her smiles always made everyone welcomed in her space. Gatherings and meetings, your co-workers and friends always chatted about your daughter. Hazel would always keep a conversation lit up and she’d make every interesting comment. Being a book-worm, she would go on and on like a Stephen King book or become William Shakespeare and her words were strong.

You’d do anything for her, no matter what. Picking her up at the library was always a doing for you. The distance wasn’t long but you enjoyed picking her up there. 

You pull up to the front of the library and see your daughter come up to the side of the door and jump in. “Thank you, mom,” She says, you greet her with a smile and watch her hold a book in her hand. “You’re welcome, honey. Did you return Hesse?”

Hazel nods and looks over to you, “Yeah. And I found this interesting book called Vulcan’s Den. Everyone’s been reading the author’s books since he died 5 years ago.” You glance over to her, seeing her eyes read the story in her hands. She looked like she was through 10 chapters already. “Hm. Who’s the author?”

“Harlan Thrombey.”

Your face froze into a fit of shock. Your fists twist around the wheel and Hazel spoke the whole time but then realized you had been temporarily deaf. “...he committed suicide.”

You look up to see the red light and you step on the break causing the car to jerk forward a bit. Your eyes lower to your hands on the wheel, “What, sweetheart?” Hazel turns and gently closes her book. “I said, he was found dead in his home. Committed suicide.” Hazel turns back to her book with a grin. “He was a really good author. I’ve been thinking about writing stories, too! He always knew how to make crime and mysteries such a good genre.”

Your eyes stare in front like you just ran over someone but all you could do is nod and say, “That’s... tragic, sweetheart. I’m sure he would’ve loved to hear your stories.” And your way back home was silent for the next 10 minutes. The only name coming to flood your mind like a banshee. Screaming internally, your  heart felt like pin needles were jabbing into it and your breathing somewhat became more quite. As if you died in your seat but your mind kept going on.

Harlan Thrombey.

A man who writes like he’s running out of time.

That night, you had just made dinner and sat in the small living room watching television as usual. Glancing over to the kitchen sharing with the dining room, you see Hazel at the table, eating and reading the book she got today. You  couldn’t help but grin at her read the book with such concentration. 

You turn your gaze over to the TV but you didn’t pay mind to it. The sounds of your neighbors playing music or their dogs barking above you. Hazel closes her book and sighs softly. “Oh mom?” She asks, you turn to her, raising your brows up. “Hm?”

Her hand rests on the table as she turns her body towards you, “There’s this musical coming into Oakland in December and I was thinking we can get tickets? I don’t know if you’re familiar with Hamilton.” You tried not to give Hazel the look of ‘I’m sorry’, you just stared at her blankly, trying to sound less of a bad mother. Sure the tickets were a bit over 50 dollars. You couldn’t even nod as you sighed, “We’ll see, sweetheart.”

Hazel turns away and picks up her book to head over to her room and you tried not to think about Harlan.

Yes, he was familiar to you. A famous author who published hundreds of books based on mysteries and murder. You weren’t there when Harlan was killed. But you knew someone at work who actually wrote the report about him. Police finding out about not only his suicide but his oldest grandchild was in jail for murder and arson. 

You didn’t know much but you’ve read the report so many times. Harlan was a good author and you were happy to see your daughter read a book from someone who was related to her. Hazel never knew much about her father’s side of the family. You tried your best to keep her silent about it and she never asked once. 

You remembered you had things that could make her brighten up. You stood up from your spot and made your way into your bedroom. You walked over to your closet and turned on the light to look up. Seeing a dark box written ‘Books’ on the side, you reach up and slid it off the edge and into your arms. You placed it on your bed and reached in for the book collection with Harlan’s name printed on every book.

You opened one and saw a small message written in cursive with his name at the end. Harlan always gave you the first copy and made sure you gotten them. His books made it into films and he gave you the movies and that’s where these old films laid in. Hazel will like to watch these over and over. “Ro, baby,” You call out.

You hear her call back and made her search around the apartment and met you in the bedroom. You turned and sat on the edge of your bed. “You love books, right?” You asked. Hazel nods questionably, “Yeah?” You placed your hand on the edge of the box, “These are special and old. It might not sound real to you but these are all first copies.” Hazel makes her way over and slightly gasps.

“They’re... Harlan books?” She pulls them out and opens the first book, “And he signed them!” Hazel looks up to you with a smile. Shockingly, it made you smile, “I want you to take care of these really good for me, okay? You can take them to your room and read them.” Hazel slams herself into your chest and hugs you tightly.

“Thank you, mom.”

You wrap your arms around her and held her there, placing a kiss on her head. “I love you, too, sweetheart.” Hazel wasted no time into bringing the books into her room. Her eyes scanned every letter written in the books by the author, himself. He kept calling you, sweetheart. Hazel wondered if you knew him really well. You collected every book from him and they were all first copies. The films were never used and they were amazing. Hazel began to pull each of them out on her bed and reached for the last book that was wider than the others.

Hazel lifts it up and sees the cute designs.

Memories.

Hazel turns around to sit on her bed as her fingers graze over the small stickers that were worn out. She read your name on the front of the cover and flipped the page over. Photos of her grandparents, your mom and dad taking you out to the lake. A couple pictures of you reading books. Your 15th birthday photo was very old and you looked just like her. Hazel flipped the next pages and the photos gotten bigger. And the months grew further on.

Pictures of you in a dress. Your junior year in a blue silk dress, your hair was perfectly done with a bit of makeup. Hazel had not seen you so beautiful with makeup on. With a small grin, she flips the page and there’s a photo of you again at what looked like your prom dance. Her grin slowly freezes when she sees someone stand next to you with a small grin.

His hair was slick back, his tuxedo was a matching blue and his bow tie was black. His jaw was sharp enough to cut paper. Hazel knew you had her at the age of 16, the date takes back a few months before your birthday. Hazel had to think he was someone you were with. A picture of carved initials with a heart around them.

The ‘R’ was carved along with your initial and in between your initials was a plus sign. Hazel grew more into the photos and kept going over the pages. The next photos never had the boy in the photos any more. But you had your hands on your stomach with a grin. You had to be about one month pregnant. But the boy you had in the other photos never appeared in these.

Then you happened to be in Oregon. You said you were born in Oregon and lived there since you were born. Where were you before? Hazel flipped a couple more and her photos came into view. Her baby pictures were old and very nicely situated. Hazel grins softly at the photos and opened the last page to have things slip out.

Hazel catches the piece of paper and small patch from a high school logo. She looks over the patch that must’ve came from a private school. She flipped it over and read it.

Hugh D. MA, Boston

Hazel furrowed her brows at the name. Hugh must’ve been a different boy you dated. She reaches for the paper that was partially ripped in half and placed the two together like a puzzle.

Ransom (xxx) xxx - xxxx

She read the letter and saw the added heart to his name. Ransom. Who was Ransom and Hugh? 

“Honey! Did you want to finish your show?” You called out to Hazel. The teenager puts the things back in the book and puts it back in the box. “Uh... Yeah! I’m coming!” And she covered it up with the others and made her way out of her room into the living room. Hazel couldn’t help but think about who her dad was. 

The next morning, you made breakfast and Hazel began to eat what you’ve made. Bacon, eggs and some toast. You poured her some juice and began to clean up your mess on the counter and placed a couple dishes into the dish washer. The sounds of Hazel’s utensils scrapping against the plate, she glanced up at you and saw your calm content face doing normal chores. 

“Who’s my dad?” 

You drop a plate from your hands and it falls into the sink once again and shatters in pieces causing Hazel to painfully watch and you turn to her. It was bound to happen, but you didn’t expect it this soon. You did you?  “What?” 

Hazel nibbles on her bottom lip and gently puts her fork down and pulls her hand to her lap. “I... I want to know who dad was.” You cross your arms and reached to grab your grin and rub the sides. Hazel lowers her gaze, “I saw two names in this photo book. Hugh and Ransom. I want to know who they were. And did my father actually die in an accident?”

It was like your worst fear and the countless nightmares were coming to life. Hazel sat there for answers now. You needed to give her small details in order for her to freak out less. You never wanted to upset Hazel. Just like you didn’t want to upset her father when you first told him the news.

“But I knew Harlan very well. I met him as a kid and he gave almost every first copy of his books. I knew him because I met his oldest grandson at the age of 15. His name was Hugh.”

“So is Ransom my biological father? And Hugh was just-” Hazel noticed the shook of your head, your lips pierced together as if you tried not to spill everything towards her. The fear to see her get scared of the truth. “Those names are from one person, sweetheart. He was complicated between his first and middle name. Hugh Ransom Drysdale. He was just a year older than me.” Hazel turns her head and whispers.

“Hazel Rose Drysdale.”

You hum in response, furrowing your brows. “Is he alive?” She asked, you instantly stand up, pushing yourself off the counter, “Honey, please. Finish eating.”

“I want to know, mom. Don’t I get to say anything about him-?”

“Hazel, please. Eat your food, I’m not in the mood now to discuss your family relations-”

“You’ve lied and I need to know what else you’ve been keeping away from me.” You turn away from her and finished off the last Tupperware and sighed. It was gonna take a while for her to lose the thoughts to go away and have her continue on something else. “Mom-”

“Hazel, please! I can’t discuss this now!” You snapped. Hazel’s fingers curl into her palm and she fidgeted her thumb under them. Her feet kick herself back and she stood up. “Thank you for dinner,” she muttered, leaving her plate on the table while making her way into her room. You sighed out of regret and turned to the window. 

You couldn’t tell if Hazel was crying or playing music to calm herself. You never outburst on her like that. Never in your days you’d shout at her. The mention of her father had to come out sooner or later. The truth never made its way over to you. Hazel wasn’t ready to find out. You weren’t ready to give it to her. Maybe never.

You just cleaned up her plate and put the leftovers in the fridge in case she wanted more since she barely ate thinking too much about her father. 

You got a shower going and left the house, leaving a note on Hazel’s door. Your drive to work was a bit long but you managed to get there in time. Taking the elevator to the office floor, you set up your stuff on your desk and began to go through your recent reports.

Checking every wording and errors you can spot.

A soft knock hits your wall and a woman peaks over. Your office neighbor. “Morning, babes. How you doing?” 

You let out a soft sigh, “Morning, Ciara.” Your fingers worked against the keyboard, writing away till someone takes your chair and spun you around. The red-head lightly glares in your eyes. You turn your head, “What?” You asked, Ciara squints her eyes. “What happened?” She replies with the same questionable tone. All you did was shake your head and Ciara pouts at you. She was never going to let you get away that easily.

.

“She knows about her dad?”

You nod towards her, raising your mug up to your lips to regain your energy. Ciara pinches her chin to be in a thinking stance and her brows bounce up, “Well, shit.” You look over to her and she lightly laughs. “What am I going to do?” You ask.

Ciara thinks, “Well... I don’t think you can keep her away forever.”

“What do you mean?” You ask once more, Ciara tilts her head at you and that made your heart drop. “No. No! I cannot do that-” Ciara drops her arms from the crossing and sighs. “Y/N, you really messed up the pooch here. If my mom lied about my dad being dead, I would’ve wanted to meet him.”

“You don’t know what he’s like,” You said, “He’s arrogant. A complete asshole-”

“Okay! Okay... but your daughter would have to at least get to know him. Give her a few days. Weeks. Who knows? Maybe he’ll come around. Hazel needs a father figure in her life and every kid would want to have their parents together.” You shook your head softly and raised your glass back up to your lips and took a large sip. 

You wouldn’t trust Ransom being with Hazel for who knows how long. You couldn’t trust yourself to stay a day there. You wouldn’t last a minute to be in the same room with him. But you thought about Hazel. You felt more selfish for yourself than for Hazel. You had your dad but she never got to see him once. You kept him under a rock that Hazel couldn’t lift up and now she found his photo. 

She found you and him together. 

There can’t be a way to change her mind. Unless she stays with him. The holidays were coming up. Thanksgiving was only a few weeks away. Maybe you’d give her that much time with him. Ciara’s face leans down to look at you in the eye. For some kind of response for her to agree or to push. 

Your mug lowers from your face and you two just shared looks.

.

That day, you made your way back home after your work was finished. You felt like you swallowed bees. You didn’t bother to text Hazel you were coming home or that you were going to talk to her. You just needed to be home right away to talk to her. To tell her everything.

You were afraid to give her everything about him. You needed to take it slow every now and then. 

The moment you stepped into your apartment you dropped your bag and opened Hazel’s bedroom, seeing her on her bed with her laptop on her lap. “Hey, mom,” She says.

You grin softly, “Can I talk to you?” Hazel did not refuse and she watches you sit on the edge of her bed. Hazel knew this certain stance of a parent. “I know this morning was not my morning. But... I want you to know that I love you very much. And that I did not mean to yell. But I am willing... to tell you about your father. He didn’t die in an accident.”

Hazel closes her laptop and gently pulls her knees to cross in front of her. You did it yourself, crossing your leg over the other. “What do you want to know?” You ask in a calm voice. Hazel lowers her gaze to think about the millions of questions already scrambling through her head like a roller coaster. 

She finally caught one, “What was dad like?” She says, shyly. This was the question you didn’t want to hear from her. But you had to anyway, “He was... difficult to work with in school. His family was rich and so anything he could do wouldn’t be a problem. He was kind in some moments, I remembered his father always fought with him.”

“Did he leave when... you were?”

Hazel noticed your soft nod and your head lowers, picking at your nails like you were a little girl again. How much you blushed when he came toward you like you saw him for the first time. The way he pulled a strand behind your ear. He never complimented much nor did he say ‘I love you’. 

“We were around your age when I found out about you. After I told him, his parents flipped. And after a few days, he yelled and left. That’s when I moved to Oregon with your grandma and grandpa.” You reach for her hair and pushed it behind her ear. Just like he did to you.

Your hand rests on the sheets and you softly sighed. Regretting these words slip out like a load of cash falling out of an ATM. “If I trust you... to call me everyday, every night. I might consider something.”

“Consider what?” She asks, you don’t respond to her and that made her eyes slowly go wide. “To visit him?” You take her hand and gently grasped it. “I am sending you to Boston.”

“You can’t come?” She asked. You shook your head and reached up for her cheek. “I think it’s best to stay here and keep going to work. I have a project and I hate to leave you, but I really want you to call me. I love hearing your voice.” Hazel grins and nods. “Thank you, mom.”

You smile at her and pulled her to your chest. Placing a kiss on her forehead, you trusted her more now. The least of trust was from her father. The most scary thing to do was to call him. Hazel pulls away and she slips something into your hand. “What’s this?” You asked.

You opened the small note and read the similar number with his name written nicely in. “In case you didn’t have it.” You held the paper tight in your hand and turned to Hazel one last time before standing up. “Dinner will be ready in a couple minutes.” Hazel nods and went back to her own things as you left her room and went into yours.

You pulled out your phone and stared at the keypad. His number sitting on the paper, urging you to not call. 16 years apart, you never thought it’d come to this day. His daughter to stay with him for a while. What if he was still in jail? He could be with another woman and it’d be too late for Hazel to be with a man who’s married to another woman.

It’d be awkward.

Your thumb automatically pushes the numbers and your thumb hovers over the call button. Your breath began to get caught in your throat. Your eyes began to water and your fingers shook. You clicked the button and heard it buzz in your ear.

The ring went off.

You waited.

It rung again.

You swallowed hard. “Hello?”

“Hugh.”

“Who is this?”

“It’s me.”

“Who?”

“Y/N.”

There was a long pause. 

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[lovelivingmydreams]

A story by heroes and vilains

Virgil Anker: Hard won victory

When you make progress through hard work, the fruits are oh so sweet. Though, sometimes, bittersweet is more accurate.

Virgil was actually relieved when Janus texted him that he wanted to skip the first day. There was an assembly and a ceremony planned and Janus did not feel like going.

This meant that Virgil could postpone being confronted with him just a little longer. It hurt a little that Janus hadn’t figured out there was something wrong yet. Virgil hadn’t really talked to him since the whole elective incident. He’d sat with him during lunch and their shared classes. But he hadn’t come by his house or hung out after school like they used to. He’d made it a point to be more animated in his conversations with Roman. He’d stopped berating him for picking fights and simply dragged him away while apologizing on his behalf. During the summer he had made sure to always be busy or away. Picani had helped him sign up for a summer camp to work on his assertiveness. Virgil hadn’t been sure at first, but he knew that Picani wouldn’t suggest it if he didn’t truly believe it might help. And it did. By the time Virgil got home he was ready to go through with his plan. He asked his dad to come along to the session right after camp and told Picani he could tell him all about Janus. He’d spent the hour curled up on the couch as he observed his father sit with a stoic expression, impeccable posture and fists clenched dangerously on his knees. Picani expertly avoided putting labels on the situation, knowing Virgil still felt very uncomfortable acknowledging those. He also managed to summarize Virgil’s 20 minute long rant about how he hoped that it would only have to be a wakeup call for Janus. That he’d get his act together and that they could go back to being friends once he did. His dad had seemed calm and collected on the surface, but Virgil could tell he was horrified to learn that Janus had become such a problem without him noticing and had been more than happy to drive Virgil straight to his principle’s house to explain the situation and ensure that Virgil would have to spend as little time as possible with Janus for the next two years if necessary. Virgil convinced him to at least call ahead. Principal Stokes was very understanding. Apparently the other teachers had talked to them on several occasions about Janus but they had been unsure what to do about it. It was their intention to figure out a policy regarding troubling signals of toxic behavior between friends in the upcoming year. Virgil fidgeted during the whole conversation. His teachers had been planning some kind of big intervention? Had it been that obvious to everyone else? “Virgil, don’t you dare blame yourself for this situation,” Stokes insisted. “It is not easy admitting that someone you care about is no longer good for you. You wanting to see the best in Janus is not weakness. It’s admirable.” Virgil glanced at his dad who was looking at his principle and nodding firmly in agreement. Then he turned to Virgil with a proud smile. “Your parents would be so proud of you Virgil,” he assured him. And he wanted to ask for a name, a memory, but he wasn’t ready to open that can of worms again. Especially not in front of his principal. “For which part?” he asked, hoping this was okay. It was, or at least, his father gave him a straight answer for once. “Both. Your father believed that fighting for yourself was just as important as fighting for others. And your mother knew that caring about others didn’t mean you should stop caring about yourself.” Virgil couldn’t help but smile at that. His parents sounded like they would’ve been awesome. He wished he had a memory of them. Any memory at all. But he didn’t want his dad to think he wasn’t enough. Between his anxiety and the situation with Janus, he already felt self-conscious. Luckily there was Patton. He and dad were nearing their one year anniversary and they had moved in together. Dad had ‘subtly’ brought up all the practical reasons why it made no sense for him and Patton to have to commute to work separately and such as summer approached. Somehow he’d been surprised Virgil put it together. Now they had a house they would all move into over the next week. Patton had already moved his stuff into their current over the summer. The idea of change still made him nervous, but if that change included more Patton in their lives then he could live with it he supposed. It had been great so far. Patton was kind and patient and caring and completely smitten with his dad. On top of that he seemed not to see Virgil as competition for his dad’s attention but an extra person to love. Patton had a lot of love to give the world and not enough people to spend it on. He also seemed to know when to leave Virgil be and when to push him to come out of his room. He knew when Virgil needed complements and when he just needed to know that it was okay if he wasn’t alright. He was also protective. When dad explained the Janus thing over a ‘family dinner’ with Patton, they had those every Sunday nowadays, he’d almost stormed off to the Bullard house. “No one makes my son sad!” he’d told Dad. That was the first time Patton had referred to Virgil as his son and… Virgil had been okay with that. So he now had two dads. Pretty much. When he came back from camp, his escapades as the invisible vigilante changed. His dad was out late a lot and promised to let him know when he left the university. Virgil told himself that he was ‘getting a room’ with Patton. Patton had taken Virgil out for Papton-son bonding time a few times over the past year. Patton taught him to bake, and learned to cook alongside him and took him on trips to the park to fly a kite or kick a ball around. Virgil liked it. But apparently both his dads had signed up for a project of some sorts. One that required a professor Biochemistry and a professor Moral Philosophy… Yeah. No. At least he no longer had to worry that his dad was getting involved in anything dangerous or illegal. Not with Patton there. Anyway, when his dads were out on a project, Virgil was babysitting a startup hero. He’d noticed him by coincidence one night as he was sitting on a roof overseeing one of his usual streets. He’d arrived to find the gang members he’d been shadowing had already had a victim in their grasp. Virgil had acted impulsively. He’d hidden his presence with all of his might and tossed a rock at one of their heads. It had momentarily distracted them, especially considering another rock hit the leader from a different angle. This had allowed the victim to escape. Virgil followed the path of the other rock and spotted the dark clad figure on the roof, ducking away to hide. And if he could see him surely those buffoons could see him too. Which was awful because the leader sent some of his goons in Virgil’s direction and some other’s in the direction of the roof. Wanting to help out a fellow well-meaning gifted, Virgil pushed himself and willed the goons not to see either of them. It was hard to cloak two people in different locations from two different groups of people who were looking for them. But if that idiot newbie- though he wasn’t much more experienced- hadn’t helped then Virgil might’ve had to make a bigger distraction and risk being noticed for real. So he owed him one. He hid behind a dumpster and waited with baited breath, hoping this would work. It took him a moment to notice, but he could kind of feel this guy under his cloak. He felt, like fireworks. It was cheesy but that was the best way to describe it. He’d never hidden anyone other than himself and Janus. Jan felt cooler, more smooth. He didn’t know if he had a distinct presence, but this was an interesting discovery. The goons got really close at one point, probably would have spotted him if his cloak hadn’t been working overtime and he hadn’t been wearing dark clothing all over. He could feel the fireworks intensify for a bit before they calmed down and the  energy felt more like a bonfire. Still intense and warm but les, prickly. He took this to mean that newbie had been nearly spotted as well but was successfully kept safe by the cloak. When the gang members regrouped Virgil heard them whisper about changing their hangout. Damn it. He needed to follow them now. Would idiot follow them as well? Virgil listened closely as he snuck trough the alley after his prey trying to look casual, almost as if he was part of the group walking ahead. He heard someone muttering in a frustrated tone. Virgil relaxed a little at that. This guy was a real hero, possibly in training, but still. So he had people who would have the sense to not send him after criminal organizations. Virgil had no such restraints. He followed the gang for a few blocks, his phone ready to record, trying to forget about the well-meaning moron. Which would be a lot easier if he hadn’t ran into him as he did whatever it was he tried to do about a car accident the very next time he went out. Virgil acted on reflex and threw up a physical protective barrier he normally used to catch blows from bullies. He’d never used it to protect someone else before now. He didn’t know he could. From idiot’s body language he could tell that he was being scolded for being so reckless. Again. Good. Maybe he’d learn his lesson this time around. Virgil didn’t seek idiot out, their path’s simply crossed and once they did Virgil couldn’t not keep an eye on him. And now, idiot was. Virgil wasn’t sure how he knew that this hero was his idiot. Maybe it wasn’t. He’d have to actually meet him and cloak him to see if he had that same energy. It was the last day before summer and he’d just read Janus’ message about skipping the first day and where to meet up to hang out. Too bad for him, but Virgil wouldn’t show. Or at least he hoped he wouldn’t give in to this feeling in his chest that made him think that he should at least let him know because if he didn’t then maybe… “Virgil, breathe. You are doing the right thing,” his dad told him calmly as he looked away from his tablet. There was a local television station playing on the tv as background noise where Virgil had heard about the appearance of a new masked hero. Each time he wondered if it was idiot or someone else entirely. He seemed government sanctioned from what he could tell. The amateur footage didn’t show much, but Virgil couldn’t help but think that this hero was about his age.

Normally his dad would roll his eyes at heroes that ‘basked in the spotlight’ as he called it, and get on with his day. But now every time an update came he seemed to pause and listen. Weird. But maybe Virgil wasn’t the only one who thought this new hero was a minor like him. Maybe his dad was worried on behalf of this guy’s parents. Parental empathy. “Maybe you should just block his number? Or get a new one?” his dad suggested pulling him from his thoughts. Right his own little crisis. “He’ll definitely come over then. At this point I don’t think he’s expecting a reply. I barely texted back last year even before I made my decision. Don’t know when that started, I just…” It was disturbing every time he realized that the upcoming… ‘break up’ for want of a better term had already happened. It just needed to be said. Suddenly the ‘breaking news’ jingle cut through the living room and both he and his dad paid attention. “I’m standing here at ‘Universe banking’ where just moments ago our town’s newest superhero stopped an armed robbery. With me Ashley Greene, an employee at this office who saw it all. Ashley, you said you were shot at?” The young woman was still in tears as she told the story of how she, bravely but foolishly, had angered the would be robber with a gun, when she was caught sounding the alarm. And then out of nowhere, the ‘dashing, kind, modest hero,’ -according to her -was there to save her. Dude caught a bullet for some stranger? Definitely idiot. Idiot reminded Virgil of Roman in a few ways to be honest. Except, there was no way that his dramatic idiot of a crush could do stealth missions for even a night, let alone a whole summer. Not even with Virgil’s constant supervision, and idiot didn’t even have that much. And no way would Roman hide that stupidly handsome face he was so proud off. And if he did, he’d wear something better than whatever that thing was the vague camera footage showed idiot wearing. From what he gathered the woman had probably drawn the comparison to a prince from the outfit. What whit the sash and all.

But on the whole it seemed like a plain white jump suit. The costume designer in Virgil was disgusted by the uninspired choice. Also, Roman would tell everyone at school and their moms if he decided to become a hero. Virgil smiled a little to himself on his way to school, imagining Roman recounting his daring rescue if he were idiot… Or ‘dream prince’ as the media dubbed him. His dads had been more nervous about him going back to school where he couldn’t avoid Janus any longer than he was. He was nervous, but he had made a decision, and he was going to see it through. As he’d expected Janus was nowhere to be found the entire morning.

He did see Roman entertain his usual group of friends during the assembly. He wondered if that offer to sit with them was still standing. He almost joined them, but thought better of it. He didn’t want to assume and if Roman was going to reject him, he preferred for it to be in private. So he sat alone and let his thoughts drift to possibilities. Mostly worst case scenario’s, but even in the ones where he ended up spending the next two years completely alone as Roman finally chose himself a princess to be his prom queen, completely forgetting Virgil even existed and where Janus hated him for standing him up this morning, he felt at peace with that. Because even that was better than spending another day in the constrictive dynamic he’d been putting up with for the past two years. Lunch came around and by the time he entered the cafeteria Roman and his group were sat at their table talking excitedly about something. Dream Prince no doubt. Once again he imagined Roman standing on the table declaring himself to be a real hero. He’d be wearing something dramatic, something stylish. Something maybe not entirely practical. Roman took care with how he dressed, but Virgil had seen him sacrifice function in favor of form plenty of times over the past few years. He was definitely not shy about pushing the boundaries of what was considered ‘masculine’ when it came to clothes or even make up. Virgil could respect that. He liked experimenting with his make up too, though he wasn’t comfortable enough to break out his lighter pallets for going out in public yet. Virgil walked to his usual table to eat his lunch and wait for when Janus would show up, demanding to know why he didn’t show up that morning even though he never indicated in any way he was planning to do so. He took out his sketchbook and made an outline of a standard male figure and started adding clothes to it. A cape was a must for Princey. If only to look good for the camera during interviews. Though he would look so cool taking it off in order to fight his opponents. Probably saying some cheesy one liner with a confident smirk. He decided he’d draw a ‘pretty’ version now and a practical one later. So he added heals, lined the whole thing with gold details, put in buttons, a belt to store a sword or any gadgets Princey might be using and a sash, even a crown. He was just about to start a new page for the practical outfit and considering designing a stealth version of it so he could come along on Virgil’s stake outs when suddenly… “Is that a Dream Prince superhero costume?” Virgil immediately slammed the book shut and looked up. He wasn’t supposed to see that! Roman’s wide eyed awe turned to a shocked pout. “Don’t hide it! It’s gorgeous!” he insisted. Virgil felt a whole swarm of butterflies set loose in his stomach. He really thought so? Was he just being nice? “That hero dude wishes he had something that amazing.” Hero…? Oh… Only now did Roman’s initial remark fully register. He thought this was inspired by the new hero. Of course he’d assume that… “Um… Thanks,” Virgil muttered. What else was he supposed to say? “Oh no this is actually meant for you because I can’t go an hour without thinking about you and with all that superhero talk I couldn’t stop myself from imagining you as a hero and designing you a full hero wardrobe”? Nope, that was not going to happen. “I’m serious,” Roman insisted, not impressed by Virgil’s attempt to dismiss his complement. “You’re super talented.” Why did he have to say that? Virgil felt his cheeks heat up and tried to hide it by focusing on the last bits of his meals. Why was he here? Why was he talking to him? He never came over. Was this because J wasn’t here right now? Roman couldn’t be here when Janus came. That would end badly. Not to mention the fact that Jan would never believe this was Virgil’s own idea if Roman was anywhere near him when he explained his decision to him. Wasn’t he busy dazzling his fangirls minutes earlier? “Is there a reason you abandoned your girlfriends to talk to me?” Virgil knew Picani would say that he was confusing assumptions with facts. Or something like that. He didn’t like that he snapped at Roman. He’d done nothing wrong. He couldn’t help it that the thought of him with some girl made Virgil’s stomach drop. Roman frowned visibly confused as he looked back to his table. Suddenly he gasped and turned back to him rubbing the back of his neck flustered as he started ranting. “They aren’t… I mean they are my friends who are girls. Not… I thought that was rather obvious. I’m the ultimate gay disaster,” he laughed awkwardly. “Sorry, I just… I’m rambling. I’m not used to saying it yet,” he admitted. Virgil just stared at him. “Oh.” Gay. All this time Roman was gay. Not even vaguely interested in any of the girls in school. He stood a chance? Judging by the uncharacteristic nervousness, Roman was uncertain how Virgil would take this news. Well, this was one of those times where this information was relevant. “Don’t worry, I get it,” he assured him, gesturing to his signature purple patched hoodie and magenta hair. Roman looked him up and down for a moment and then his eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, that’s clever. Maybe I should start doing that too.” And just like that he got his confidence and flair for the dramatic back. “You know, since it’s not as obvious as I thought. Don’t want any awkward conversations where I have to tell a lovely maiden she’s just not the right gender for me.” He struck a tragic pose and sent Virgil a wink that made his heart jump. This was not out of the ordinary for Princey, but now that Virgil knew he was gay, he couldn’t help but wonder… “So… You came all the way over here to come out or…?” Is he going to ask me out? God what do I say? Should I say yes? Or play it cool and pretend I need to think about it a bit first? Wait, no, he won’t ask me out. He would’ve done so already if he was interested right? But what if he assumed I was straight all this time as well? Just keep breathing V. Keep breathing and listen to what he says. Roman shook his head as if to get his thoughts back on track that way. “No, I just… I’ve been having trouble keeping up with schoolwork and I wondered if we could study together?” That… What? “Don’t you have friends for that?” Virgil asked dryly as he got up. His lunch was finished and he needed an excuse not to look at Roman right now. He was disappointed. But… Was Roman trying to ensure they’d spend time together this year? He still wanted Virgil to be his friend? He really didn’t know what ‘giving up’ meant did he? Roman chuckled. “I do and they are lovely. There are few challenges we can’t conquer. But homework seems to be one of those few. We distract each other,” he admitted. Virgil thought back to every time he’d seen Roman with his friends. To his one conversation with André, and he understood what he meant. “You won’t let me get away with slacking. You lack the patience.” Virgil put his now empty tray on the dishrack and looked back at him. Spend time with Roman at least once every week? Just the two of them…? “Sounds good,” he smiled. It sounded really good. “Great… Friday works for you?” Roman asked with that brilliant smile of his. Virgil just shrugged and nodded. “My plans got canceled so you’re in luck.” He hadn’t visited Janus for any of their normal weekend plans since… early spring, come to think of it. He hadn’t had the energy. And now he definitely wouldn’t go back.

And when it came to his family, other than for Sunday family dinners he could do whatever he wanted with his spare time so long as he let his dads know. And this was technically school time. Suddenly something in his peripheral caught his attention. Before he consciously registered the falling ceiling lamp he launched himself at Roman. “Princey get down!” he shouted. ‘Save him!’ was the only thought in his head. He’d never believed any of those stories about time slowing down in a moment of crisis. But he swore he saw every minimal change in Roman’s expression as his happy smile turned to confusion. He could feel every cell of his body that touched Roman’s as they crashed to the ground. He moved to cradle Roman’s head to shield it from hitting the ground too hard. Once the impact was absorbed he pushed himself up but not too far. He checked Roman over while he tried to not have too much of a gay panic. Which wasn’t easy. He was laying on top of Roman Castile. He was close enough to smell his collonge. That or he smelled really good all by himself which of course he would! The near death experience was completely forgotten as he was just a breath away from kissing Roman and God did his classmate’s eyes just drop to his lips? He had to have imagined that. He could not handle this! And at the same time he felt like he could not bear to move. Then time snapped back to normal and everything seemed louder and brighter than before. He already knew that just the past ten minutes would take up most of the hour he’d spend with Picani next Saturday. For various reasons. “You okay?” he managed though he found most air was pushed out of his lungs by the fall already. Roman just nodded, seemingly not quite catching on to what had just happened yet. Knowing that any moment now they’d be swarmed by concerned bystanders Virgil rolled off him and helped him sit up. Roman glanced from Virgil to the smashed lamp. By some miracle neither of them had been cut by flying glass. Then again, maybe Virgil had shielded them. “You saved my life,” Roman whispered in awe, still processing everything.

“Well. Anxiety. Makes me hyper aware of everything around me,” Virgil said dismissively as they stood up. He blamed the adrenaline coursing through him for the way he’d just casually admitted to having a disorder he had been reluctant to tell even his father about. “I’m glad,” Roman joked softly. Frick that smile. “Yeah… Well…” Luckily he didn’t need to reply. They were quickly overrun by worried people and guided to the nurses office and then to the hallway in front of the principal’s office where they were told to wait for their parents. Great. Logan was going to lose his mind. After a few moments of debating with himself he decided that taking his meds in front of his crush was less embarrassing than potentially have an anxiety attack in front of him. So he dug through his backpack to find his pills. “Thanks again,” Roman offered, scratching at the back of his head. “Well,” he muttered as he finally found both his water bottle and his pill bottle. Picani had prescribed him something to help him manage his anxiety in high risk situations. He wasn’t supposed to take it too often, but after the morning he had he kind of needed it to deal with his dad. Virgil didn’t like taking pills in general, so this was a last resort coping tool. Talking to Roman, knowing he kind of sort of stood more of a chance than he thought he did was nerve-wracking enough on its own.

But then there was the whole Janus thing and what happened in the cafeteria and then his dad and... God he needed his meds. “I needed to get out of the way too. Might as well take you with me right?” Virgil hurriedly took his pill, hoping that it would go ignored. It didn’t. “You cool?” Roman asked worriedly. He couldn’t bear to look at him right now. He could feel his face heating up and prayed his thinner foundation was enough to hide it. “For my anxiety,” he admitted as he shook the pill bottle before shoving it back and taking another swig of his water. “My dad is going to freak. He’s protective.” It was so important to him that Princey understood that whatever he’d see today wasn’t how his dad normally acted. “And if he freaks I freak. And if I’m going to freak, I better take my meds.” Please don’t ask more. “My parents are the same,” Roman offered sympathetically. “They forget I’m not Remus at times. And honestly I think they go a bit overboard with him as well… I could look out for him.”

Part of Virgil wanted to talk about Remus with Roman. He could hear the hurt and longing in Roman’s voice. But he was still tense about showing how broken he was. What was he thinking telling Roman? Now he’d never want to be around him again… No, he couldn’t think like that. He’d worked on this with Picani, with the camp counselors. “Hey, don’t stress it,” Roman’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “If they didn’t give me massive headaches I’d be on meds for my ADHD.” Virgil looked up in surprise. Roman was broken too? Or, not broken. Broken didn’t fit Roman. But still. Roman had something he needed meds for like him. Only he couldn’t take those meds because his body hated them. He had to just deal. Roman found his surprise funny it seemed. “What? It’s almost more obvious than the rainbow in my soul,” he chuckled with a dramatic pose. Virgil couldn’t help but laugh along. Thinking back to… Well everything Roman ever did, he was right. “I suppose you are right. You always seem to own every single moment. I guess I assumed you were extra by choice,” he admitted, feeling a little embarrassed that he missed that in his blind admiration. “Don’t worry about it. We all have our own challenges. And hey. If not for your anxiety, I’d be a stain on the cafeteria floor. And if not for my ADHD I wouldn’t have crushed it on the stage four nights in a row during last year’s production!” Virgil couldn’t help but smile as he saw Roman light up at the memory. “Yeah, you were pretty alright,” he allowed casually. He did not expect Roman’s eyes to widen and his grin to be quite so blinding at that. “You were there?” he gasped. It looked like he was trying, and failing, to hold back the extra. Virgil shrugged casually, hoping he did a better job at hiding his true emotions. “I mean, I helped out with some of the set and costume designs,” he admitted. He might have put a little extra care in the Prince costume. As he had with all Roman’s roles.

“They gave me a ticket. I was just seeing my work brought to life,” he explained casually. He glanced back at Roman and saw the young theatre enthusiast look up at the clock.

“Hey can I have your number?” he asked suddenly. Virgil’s heart stopped. Roman Castile just asked his number… Did he hear that right? His confusion must’ve been very clear because Roman quickly added: “For Friday, I mean.” “Oh, sure,” Virgil nodded, silently berating himself for thinking for even a second that he’d meant it any other way. Roman gave him his phone. He swiftly put himself in as ‘guide to hell’. His dad had taught him about his namesake and the meaning of his name near the end of middle school when he’d felt embarrassed by it. And a Roman poet who actively ridiculed the emperor was a pretty cool guy to be named after as far as Virgil was concerned. And then he’d read Dante’s inferno over the summer and he was completely sold on it. He hoped Roman would get and appreciate the literary reference. And if not, it fit his aesthetic well enough. He handed Roman his phone back and smiled to himself when he saw him grin when he checked his new contact. He looked down in his own contacts. Roman had just put his name with a ;p next to it. He could do better. He grinned, feeling daring as he changed the contact name. Suddenly a loud voice startled him out of his mischief. “Mi hijo!” He looked up and saw a Latina woman, dressed in a kitchen uniform, stride through the hallway. He could see Roman stiffen and then the prince of junior year was mercilessly dragged into a soul crushing hug. Obviously dying of embarrassment. It was kind of endearing though. “Mom, please, I’m fine.” Roman groaned, though the chuckle took away from the complaint. “Fine?” Mrs. Castile scoffed. "The principal told me what happened Roman!” She stepped back, gripping her sons shoulders tightly, sharp eyes looking him up and down to see if there was any sign of damage. “I could’ve lost you! Rest assured the city will hear from us about proper maintenance of the school buildings!” She had a point, Virgil supposed. It could have ended badly for them. But, as Picani said, living your life on might haves, was exhausting and pointless. “It was a freak accident mama. Please don’t make a big deal out of it. I don’t even have a scratch,” Roman argued. This was met with another nod. “I heard.” Suddenly her eyes met Virgil’s and she lit up. He had to resist the urge to step back. Roman definitely had inherited his mother’s eyes. And if he read the woman’s expression right, she was about to show how much of his energy came from her as well. Before he could brace himself for whatever she had in store for him, he was looking at Roman’s white Varsity Jacket. “Mom, this is Virgil, he was my lab partner last year,” he introduced them, mostly turned towards his mother and his body still blocking her path. Virgil saw her give a nod, prompting Roman to step to the side. “Virgil, this is my mother, Alicia Castille.” Virgil could not begin to express how much he appreciated this. Roman knew for all of maybe 20 minutes that he had anxiety and he was already trying to accommodate him.

All he could do with that for now was give him a smile and try to make a decent impression on his mother. “Pleasure to meet you ma’am,” he offered as he held out his hand. Formal and with respect for other people’s personal space, like his father had raised him, was clearly not the Castile way. His hand was grabbed in two warm, soft hands and pressed against a chest as he was met with an earnest look that told him that if not for Roman he would have been on the receiving end of one of this woman’s hugs. “First you help my boy discover a love for science and then you save his life. You are a marvelous young man,” she gushed, making Virgil blush. Wait… Had Roman talked about him? To his mother? In a positive way? His hand was released and he struggled to find something to say in response. “Ah, well…” But then it was his turn to be embarrassed by his parent it seemed as the sound of his name being shouted cut through the hallways. He couldn’t help but shrink back. He hadn’t heard his father sound so distressed since he thought he was having an attack last year. Logan appeared around the corner and quickly locked eyes with him. Relief starting to replace the worry right away. Moments later Virgil was hugged tightly.

“You are alright.” “Dad, please, I’m fine,” he pleaded. The one time he wanted his dad to stick to his slow and steady method when it came to physical affection. Then again he’d expected this. It was like whenever his dad was overwhelmed emotionally he looked for a life line. Usually, that was him. Finally, his dad let him go. “What happened?” he asked as he looked him over to see if there was any sign of a recent panic attack or injury. Once he was satisfied with his inspection he glanced at their audience, as if he was suspecting them of having caused this crisis. “Who are these people?” “Roman Castile and his mother…” Virgil explained, confused that he hadn’t figured that out himself yet. Wait… He couldn’t have… “Dad, did you even let the principal finish his explanation?” he asked already filled with dread at the most likely answer. “I… Well, I’ve never been called to school before. When he said something happened… I didn’t want to waste time. It was only logical.” Virgil rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised you didn’t head straight to the ER,” he huffed. His father did not appreciate his attitude. “Forgive me for caring about the only family I have.” Virgil immediately felt bad. He felt nervous and embarrassed, but that was no excuse to take it out on his dad. He truly meant well. Most likely he’d been just as nervous today, if not more so. Getting that call, he must’ve assumed Janus had done something bad for the staff to call him in. “I know you care dad. But you can overdo it a little,” he muttered. That was true as well. Whenever his dad did get emotional, he got really intense. “Pardon me sir.” Virgil and his dad looked up in surprise when Roman’s mother spoke up. “But you are this fine boy’s father, correct?” she asked pleasantly. His dad straightened his posture “Logan Anker, I apologize for my behavior. I…” He was immediately stopped by a warm smile and careless wave of Mrs. Castile. “Oh, don’t mention it. You should have seen me the first time mi principitto came home with a bruise. I was this close to murder,” she chuckled good naturedly as she held her fingers a hairs width apart. “I can relate I belief,” his dad chuckled as he looked back at him in that way he would sometimes. A strange mix of happy, proud, sad and worried. “Alicia Castile,” Roman’s mother introduced herself. “Your son has helped my boy in class last year and now he’s saved his life. I feel like I owe your family a great debt. If you ever have a party that needs catering I’ll give you family prices. No questions asked,” she promised. “You run Magical Kitchens. I have had the pleasure of sampling your work before, I might hold you to that,” dad smiled politely. Then his eyes returned to Virgil. Oh no. That was his ‘firm parent’ look. “We’re heading home, you are going to rest up.” Yep he was right. He made a thing out of showing off that he thought he was overdoing it, but allowed a small smirk to show it was in good humor. “So I won’t get a lecture on playing hero?” he asked teasingly before waving Roman goodbye, giving his mother a polite nod and heading off towards the parking lot at a steady but swift speed. He wasn’t willing to risk staying around much longer and risk any more embarrassment. “Not today,” he heard his father reply behind him.

Very soon they rounded a corner and Virgil could hear his dad’s phone buzz. “Patton, I’m sorry, I overreacted. Virgil is fine,” he said as he ruffled through Virgil’s hair. Much to the latter’s dismay. What was his dad thinking? What if Roman saw? He quickly stepped away and tried to fix his hair as best as he could. Looking back to make sure there were no witnesses. Luckily the hall was still empty. He decided to walk a bit faster though, just in case. “I see.” Oh no. Virgil didn’t like his father’s tone at all. “Thank you Patton. I’ll see you later.” A moment later he hung up. “Patton did talk to the principle didn’t he?” Virgil guessed, deciding to get this over with as fast as possible, as he got in the car. Just then he caught sight of Roman and his mother arriving at the parking lot. Roman was talking to her about something. Gesturing wildly with his hands, his face alight with enthusiasm. He really liked seeing him like that. He was looking forward to seeing it more often over the course of the year without having to worry if it somehow upset Janus if he spent time with him. “He did…” Right… His dad heard he had almost gotten hurt. “It’s not a big deal dad. It was a freak accident and we’re both fine. I promise,” Virgil assured him. He could see Logan steady his breathing and focus. He knew better than to interrupt while his dad was thinking this deeply about something. Virgil relaxed as his father finally started the car and left the parking lot. Now there was no chance of Roman spotting them, or Virgil subsequently doing something embarrassing.

“I am sorry if I embarrassed you back there.” Virgil flinched. Had his dad noticed? God was he that obvious? No. It’s fine, just play it off. Maybe he meant, embarrass you in front of your classmate, not crush. “It’s whatever,” he mumbled, desperately searching for a change of subject. Suddenly it hit him. “You don’t have to take me back home you know. You have like two more classes to teach right? I can sit in the back and draw some,” he looked back to Logan with a small smile. “I’d like to see my flashcards in action.” His dad frowned thoughtfully. “You didn’t hit your head at any point?” “No,” he stated. “If either of us hit our head it would’ve been Roman.” And he had made sure that he didn’t. “Well, okay then. I don’t mind showing of my son to my students,” his dad smiled fondly, making Virgil almost change his mind about going home. At his father’s instruction he texted Patton. “Coming over to campus. See you soon.” “My students have probably gone to study in the library or taken an extended lunchbreak due to my absence,” Logan explained as they entered the empty auditorium. Virgil looked around imagining himself in a room like this in a few years. “They’ll be informed that I have returned soon. We’ll see how many actually show up in-” “Where is my brave angel baby!!!” Virgil looked up, fight or flight instincts fully engaged. Patton was rushing towards him. And before he could decide how to respond he was being hugged.

“Oh, kiddo. Are you okay? Were you scared? Why aren’t you at home?” Virgil couldn’t be annoyed at him when he sounded so distressed. “Pops, I’m fine! Not even a scratch on me,” he assured him, gently hugging Patton back. “Aside from ‘Gay Panic’ his emotional state was not compromised.” He did not just do that. “Dad I swear I’ll move in with uncle Thomas!” Virgil threatened, deciding that this was enough hugging and stepping away from Patton “What do you mean? Was it a boy? Was he cute? Tell me!” Patton squealed. “Don’t you have a class to get back to,” Virgil huffed, very done with being publicly humiliated. Dad’s students were already arriving. He regretted his tone a little when he saw how confused Patton was by it. Luckily Logan was there to be ‘moody teenager translator’. “Don’t take it personal. He’s just a little embarrassed.” He didn’t have to look so pleased by it though. “Ugh, I’ll be in the back,” he stated as he made his exit. By the time he had settled in and took out his sketchbook and pencils, Logan was addressing his students. “Take your seats everyone. I apologize for my tardiness, but rest assured we won’t fall behind first day of the semester. We’ll start class in 10 minutes so your classmates have a chance to join the lecture if they want.” Virgil heard the students filtering in, but was focusing on the drawing.

He had just finished the body, when his dad started class. “Hello everyone. Apologies for the delay. Today is not… Vibing with me it seems.” Virgil looked up and saw his dad hold up one of his flashcards. He chuckled along with the class. “Welcome back to all of you. I look forward to having another productive year. Please be on your best behavior. My son Virgil is joining us today.” Virgil waved at the many turning heads when his dad motioned in his direction. “So I’d like to get some cool dad points today.” Again a chuckle rippled through the room. “But now, without any more stalling. Let’s get started.” Virgil dove back into his sketch. He hadn’t given much thought to the color scheme for the suit, other than gold detailing, but for the real one he was thinking red, white and gold. That seemed to fit the heroes tastes. No full on white jumpsuit. Red pants, gloves and cape, that would make the white shirt pop out more. He stood by the cool factor the cape would add to the complete look. Though he noted down that it was meant for formal functions. He toned down the gold details. He’d been having a bit too much fun with those. Then he worked the crown he’d designed into the mask. He considered the boots and decided to give the mannequin normal white shoes. But, as a joke, added a heeled version in the margin. He observed his work, it looked cool. He had some more place on the page and put down a few ideas for a cool logo they could put on the cape. Like a coat of arms. A family crest. Something to complete the prince aesthetic. He really liked it. He had to admit, he first thought he’d just make the design, show it to Roman and then leave it be. But… What if he really sent in a copy of this to the GTH… He wasn’t going to think about that right now. Maybe later… “Hey!” Virgil looked up in surprise. One of his dad’s students was talking to him. He looked to the front of the room. It seems like his dad was busy setting something up. “You are Anker’s kid huh?” They asked. Virgil nodded. “Cool. What’s it like to have him for a dad? Like, he’s a stick in the mud but he’s also pretty funny. What’s that about?” Virgil quirked his brow, not sure if his dad just got insulted or complemented. “I don’t know. He can be strict, but that’s cause he cares a lot. He’s mainly very supportive,” Virgil explained. “You’re not really what I imagined his kid would look like,” the student in the next seat mused. “Um… I guess, not? I’m more of an artsy kid I guess,” he admitted. “Is it true you got him and professor smiles together?” Professor… “Patton you mean? Uh, yeah. I gave them a little push.” Both students nodded in approval. “They are so cute together. Good job,” the second student praised. Virgil smiled, he had to agree on that one. “Thanks,” he nodded. Then his dad called everyone’s attention again. Virgil turned the page and started working on something else. A costume for him should he have the funds to get one professionally made. The class continued like that. With him working out several designs for himself, occasionally interrupted by either his dad pulling out the notecards, or one of his students asking him something during a quiet moment. Before he knew it he and his parents were heading back to the car. “So what happened?” Patton wondered, making Virgil tense up at once. Well there went all his progress in relaxing. “Nothing! Can we just drop it?” Virgil pleaded as he got in the backseat and fastened his seatbelt. “It’s pretty much as you said. Virgil pushed Roman to safety, both boys are fine.” Virgil was grateful for his dad’s factual and neutral summary for about one second. “Wait… Roman… The Roman?”

Virgil felt all his muscles lock in place. Patton should not know that there was a ‘the’ Roman! “I… I never mentioned Roman during family dinners…” And he hadn’t talked about him the past summer. Which could only mean… “Dad!” he exclaimed accusingly, only making Logan chuckle. Was this payback for back when he first met Patton or something? “Oh, don’t be embarrassed kiddo. Logan, tell me you didn’t say anything too bad in front of him,” Patton pleaded. “Not to my knowledge. I didn’t even bring up that I recognized him.” Virgil felt all color leave his face. No… No. Why!? “What do you mean?” Patton asked curiously adding to Virgil’s horror. He wanted off this ride, now! “Well, I’m pretty sure he was the charming Prince Virgil couldn’t tear his eyes away from during the play.” Ok. Time to panic, and/or cry. He was leaning towards the ‘and’ option. “That’s not… I worked hard on the costume. That’s all.” He knew it was a very poorly executed exit strategy. If his dad had noticed how he kept a special eye on Roman’s Prince, then he might’ve noticed… “And the shepherd from the winter play. And he was the crazy scientist and the minstrel in the plays of your freshmen year,” Logan added. Virgil was ready for the universe to swallow him now. “It’s not like that,” he insisted. “What were you two talking about anyway?” Patton wondered. And Virgil was grateful for the slight change of subject. Virgil shrugged. “We worked well together last year. Roman suggested studying together once a week,” he explained. And that was the truth. And luckily, that seemed enough to put an end to the conversation. Just in case though, Virgil escaped to his room the second he got home. No sooner had he taken out his phone to put on some music to drown out everything else, or he got a call. Normally he would hate that. But the idea read “My DreamPrincey”

“Purgatory. Satan speaking,” he smirked as he picked up. “Hello there my chemically imbalanced romance.” Of all bands, it had to be that one? And again with the possessive pronoun. It should be illegal to affect someone this much in a single sentence. Virgil didn’t miss a beat though. “Hey there sir Singalot.” His heart stuttered when Roman chuckled at that one. “I just realized that we got extremely rudely interrupted.” “You could phrase it like that,” Virgil laughed. “So… when and where do you want to meet Friday?” Your place, the park, the mall… No… Homework. It’s for homework. “Let’s head to the library after school. We can grab some pizza from across the street after if it’s late,” he suggested, trying not to cringe as he pretty much asked his crush out to dinner. Sure, it could be interpreted as a platonic thing. But still. These were big steps forward to him. “Sounds great,” Roman agreed happily. Virgil didn’t want the conversation to end there though. Luckily he had a good question about the subject at hand. “Yeah. Hey, about that. Are you cool with helping me out with Spanish? I know you take French, but…” His mom had greeted him with a Spanish pet name right? But maybe they weren’t raised with the language beyond that… “I mean…” Had he just offended him?

Before he could spiral too much, Roman answered. “My parents raised us bilingual. Me encantaría ayudarte a aprender el lenguaje de la passion, mi caballero oscuro.” Holly… He had no idea what he just said. He spoke way too fast for him. Apreder… that was teaching or something. And he thought he caught passion in there. God what was it with this guy? “That better be you saying you’ll help,” Virgil huffed. “Of course mi amigo sombrío. It’s the least I can do por mi Salvador,” he teased. Virgil blushed. He understood Salvador. Savior. Roman had called him his savior. “Virgil? Who are you talking to?” Virgil suppressed the urge to curse. Really dad? Now?

“Roman dad! We’re talking about going to the library on Friday!” he yelled back, holding the phone away from his face. He really hoped his dad would leave it at that, but he wasn’t so lucky. “For homework right?” Of course homework! Was he being serious? “Yes dad. He’ll help me with Spanish,” Virgil replied with an exasperated eye roll. “Alright. I’ll leave you boys to it. Dinner at six.” “Noted…” he called back, waiting for a few seconds to make sure he heard him go down the stairs. “He’s gone,” he sighed in relief. “Sorry about that. He is… He means well, but sometimes…” He was lost on how to explain his dad’s intense reactions to his safety honestly. Usually he was very calm and collected. But bring in a scraped knee, or a bruise and Virgil could feel the fear come off him. Even when Logan tried to hide it. “I get it… I’m sorry about your mother,” Roman offered. Oh… Oh yeah his dad had said something about their small family. Roman really paid attention huh? “Oh… Right… Um… I never.” He took a breath. It was fine. Roman wouldn’t judge right? “I don’t remember either of my birthparents so…” “Shit. Sorry, I didn’t…” Roman hurried awkwardly. It made Virgil smile a little.

“It’s alright… I don’t advertise it, but I don’t really care if people know.” Except he cared a little that Roman knew and would think badly about it. Which made no sense, but his worst thoughts rarely did in hindsight. “Logan is my dad in every way that matters. I’m sure they were awesome and everything… Dad seems to miss them anyway. And sometimes he’ll say that I’m like them, or that they’d be proud and stuff… But yeah. He’s protective of me. Hence his whole ‘don’t be a hero’, rule.” God he was rambling. Someone stop him. Roman chuckled. “Well, too late for that. You might as well pick up your tights now.” Roman meant to brighten the mood. But god no. That would be an actual nightmare. “As if. I wouldn’t be caught dead in something like that. I’d be more into the Midnight Mirage aesthetic,” he confessed. Already thinking up a design. “Shut up! That’s totally my celeb crush!” Roman gushed. Now Virgil really wanted to try putting something together inspired by Mirage. “You? Prince of theater, have a crush on LA’s vigilante?” He asked incredulously. “I wouldn’t have picked you for the type to like bad boys,” he teased, while he wondered if he counted as a ‘bad boy’ in Roman’s eyes. “I like the mystery,” Roman replied casually. And then, as Virgil could have expected, he turned the tables on him. “Well since you know my big secret, it’s only fair if you tell me your crush. Spill Doctor Gloom.” His crush… Celeb crush. Roman was talking about crushes on celebrities that were too old for them to start with and unlikely to ever meet them. Still he needed to buy himself some time. “Um…, well for a girl… I’d say Blaze.” She was really cool and intense and criminally good looking. At least if you asked Virgil. “And guy?” Roman pressed. Virgil felt his throat close up, his heart skip a beat. What to say? “Come on. Which prince tickles your fancy?” You. “Who may sweep you into his arms-” you “-and ride off into the sunset with you?” You, you, you 100% you. “DreamPrince,” he blurted instead. Why? No clue. But it happened. And it was the least credible answer. Dream Prince didn’t even have an official picture released to the public yet. There was only one witness who had gotten a decent look at him and talked to him. “I didn’t see that one coming,” Roman’s surprised voice pulled him out of his panic. Was he buying it? “So our resident edge lord fancies himself a literal prince charming as a romantic partner huh?” he teased. Apparently he did. Well maybe it wasn’t that bad. He’d basically just told Roman that he was his type, right? What little anyone could gather from the Prince fit Roman as well. Still he felt the need to backpedal a little. He could not pretend to be swooning over that guy too much. “Don’t look too deep into it. I just admire his guts. Gifted or not, it takes nerves of steel to face a guy with a gun like he did.” Or to face bullies, and to be friends with him while Janus gave you the death glare. “And to go outside in that crime against fashion.” He shuddered as he recalled the jumpsuit. He might have to send in his design. For everyone’s sake.

“I’ll probably be over it next week,” he huffed dismissively. Showing that he was not too invested in this ‘crush’. Roman hummed in response, seemingly distracted. Virgil felt butterflies in his stomach as a hopeful thought crossed his mind. What if he was building up to… He had just said that Virgil’s preferred aesthetic matched with his celeb crush… And then he was pressing for his type… What if he did want to ask him out? “Any reason why you wanted to know?” That was nowhere near as casual as he’d wanted to be. But it was out. And Virgil was holding his breath in anticipation. “Stacey!” Virgil had to pull back from the phone due to the sudden loud exclamation. Who? “My friend. She’s been pestering me for your number since I mentioned I had it and I obviously wasn’t going to betray your trust and do that. So…” Wait… No. “Stacey wants to go out with you, would you be up for that?” Oh…. “Stacey?” He thought back. He remembered her. “Seen her in the art studio a few times. She’s got style.” And she was very pretty. If he was completely honest with himself he was kind of flattered that he had apparently caught her eye. He supposed he should give it a chance. “Sure. Text me her number,” he decided. “Awesome,” Roman replied, unaware of the stinging in Virgil’s heart.

They talked for a long time after that though. About school, summer, Disney and theater. It was easy talking to Roman. It always had been, but now… It was just different. Suddenly Virgil heard Roman’s mother call out, almost instantly followed by his dad. “Man… time sure flies,” Virgil mused, his cheeks hurting from all the times Roman made him laugh.

“Si. Nos vemos mañana!”

Virgil chuckled. “That means… See you tomorrow, right?” Virgil verified.

“Si!” Roman exclaimed. Virgil chuckled. “Bye Princey,” he said gently before hanging up. He checked his messages before heading down. Roman had texted him Stacey’s number and he had a message from Janus. He decided to call Stacey now. Get it over and done with. “… Who is this, and how did you get this number?” Virgil smirked. She had spunk. He kind of liked that. Maybe this would be not so bad. “I’m the devil dear. Someone you considered a friend just sold me your soul,” he said in his best imitation of a demon voice. “OMG… Virgil? Virgil Anker?” she asked, seemingly flustered. “That’s my name,” he acknowledged. “Roman said you wanted to go out with me?” “I’m going to kill that pompous…” “So you don’t want to hang out at the gallery tomorrow?” he asked playfully. “Wait really!?” she asked shocked. Virgil chuckled as he got up and started going down the stairs. “Well, it’s not a date exactly. Consider it a vibe check. We’ll set up a new canvas, have some fun and get to know each other. Then after we can see if we really want to go out together. What do you think?” he offered. He didn’t want to deal with the pressure of a first date right away.

“Oh, yeah. Awesome!” she agreed. He made his way into the kitchen. “Kay, so tomorrow after school. See ya later Stacey,” he bid before hanging up. “Who, was that?” his dad asked from his seat at the kitchen table. “Stacey. One of Roman’s friends…” the thought of Roman, and how he’d played wingman for her hit him in the chest. “He… Told me she liked me and asked him for my number. I got hers and we’re going to hang at the art gallery to see if we click. I haven’t really hung out with anyone other than Janus or Roman, so I don’t… Know if I’d like any of my other classmates. I figure I should give her a shot. She seems fun,” he said. Mostly to remind himself as he took his seat. “It’s like I said… Me and Roman… It’s not like that.” No matter how badly he wished it was “That’s really sweet of you Virgil,” Patton offered. Virgil gave him a small smile. After dinner he opened Janus’ text. “Sry bout what happened 2day. Will U B @ schl 2mrw?” Virgil was taken aback, and a little hopeful. So Janus had come to look for him and heard what happened? And he actually asked him for his plans? Maybe, maybe he didn’t need to lose his best friend after all… No. This is why it took so long. When not around others Janus was almost always great to hang out with. He was fun and smart and weird in a cool way. But at school he would be around other students. Around Roman. That would be the test. He texted back. Hoping it would help somehow. “M fine thx. C U there.”

confrontation

Masterpost

@cirishere​ @hestianerd1​ @moonlightshow00​ @naturallyunstablegamer​ @alias290​ @meowthefluffy​ @frida0043​ @angelic-cali​ @selenechris​ @theblackveilinreverse​

#sanders sides #ts sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #tw food mention

[barry-j-blupjeans]

@taznovembercelebration - Day 21 - College/school

BUT ALSO this is the first chapter of that blupjeans college fic i mentioned yesterday. i’ll probably post it to ao3 or something later, but yea :O!

Being in college and opening a bakery at the same time was not the smartest choice, but Lup couldn’t really stop doing one or the other. There was no way in hell she was going to waste the scholarship she had been given, but the idea of leaving her brother to open and manage a bakery by himself was ridiculous in its own rights. Still, they were only three weeks into the semester and Lup’s schedule was overbooked and crumbling apart.

And now, on top of it all, her math professor had told her to go to tutoring to make sure she was able to do the work. If he listened to one goddamn thing she said, then he’d know that she could do math perfectly fine, she just needed a little extra time to fit it in with the rest of her schedule.

Also who the fuck needed to do college-level math while getting a goddamn music degree?

Lup made her way into the campus library, already ten minutes late. She spotted a library volunteer and made her way over, putting on her best smile to hide how frazzled she was.

“Hey,” Lup said and they looked up at her. “Do you know where the uh, student-led intro to algebra study group is? We were supposed to be meeting here at three.”

“Should be in the corner over there,” the person said kindly, sitting up a little to point towards the back of the library. “Behind the whole non-fiction section.”

“Thank you so much,” Lup said, adjusting her bag and turning away. Just as the volunteer said, the study group collected back there, spread out over two tables. It only had about six people, two of whom were obviously in charge. Lup dropped herself into a chair and put her stuff down. One of the tutors looked up. Lup couldn’t help but notice how obnoxiously thick his glasses were.

“You here for the study group?” he asked and Lup nodded.

“I don’t need help,” she said before he could get another word in. “I just haven’t had time to do my assignments and my professor told me to come. I can do it by myself, thanks.”

“Oh,” the man said. “I- alright. Well, I’m here if you need anything, okay? My name’s Barry.”

“Charmed,” Lup said, not feeling charmed at all as she pulled her book out of her bag. She didn’t tell him her name. He didn’t need to know it. There was always the chance that if she did tell him her name, word would get out that she needed to come here for help. Lup knew it wasn’t high school anymore. She knew gossip didn’t travel like that and that probably no one would care if she came here, but she couldn’t shake the habit quite yet.

She tried to ignore the group as they talked. The other tutor was named Lucas and he had a nasally voice and bandaids on all his fingers. Lucas wasn’t particularly trying to hide the fact that he thought he was better than everyone here. Maybe because of that, the other students flocked towards Barry. From what Lup could tell, though, Barry wasn’t the greatest either. Don’t get her wrong, he seemed like a decent guy, tutor, whatever. But he kept asking her if she needed help. She’d always say no. Then she’d go back to work and ten minutes later, he’d be asking again.

“Hey so-” Barry started, but Lup cut in again.

“I don’t need help,” Lup said, looking up at him. That’s when she realized there was no one else besides them here. The chairs were all empty. Barry was cleaning up the table.

“I… wasn’t gonna ask,” Barry said uncomfortably. Okay, Lup felt kind of bad for that. “Everyone else went home. I was gonna go home. Just wanted to make sure you, uh, you realized.”

“Oh,” Lup said blankly. And then, “Yeah, okay. I’ll pack up, too, I guess.”

“Alright,” Barry said. The silence was terribly awkward as they both gathered their things. Even more awkward when Lup remembered that the library only had one exit and they both were heading that way. She sped up and got ahead of him, reaching the door before he said anything else.

“Uh, hey!” Barry called out and Lup cringed, pausing at the doorway. “You coming Thursday?”

“Maybe,” Lup said, which meant yes because her professor wanted her to go to at least three groups. “I’ll check my schedule and see.”

“Cool,” Barry said. “Um, see you then. Maybe, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Lup said offhandedly. “See ya, Bluejeans.”

“I- what?”

“Blue jeans,” Lup said, waving a hand at his pants. “You wear ‘em. Like… the mom-type too. Don’t expect me not to say anything about it.”

She walked away. Calling him Bluejeans was better than calling him Thick Glasses, so she didn’t feel to bad about his flustered look.

The bus ride home was okay. Well, not okay because it was a bus ride, but, still, she was used to it. Plus side was that there were fewer people than usual. She got off at the stop closest to her apartment and climbed up the stairs until reaching her door. There was a slight moment of panic where Lup couldn’t find her keys, but it was fine because they had just fallen off her keychain and into her bag.

The apartment was… still a mess. Not that she expected any different. She flicked on the lights and set her bag down near the door. She heard movement and talking from the kitchen and went to check it out.

Taako was there, hunched over some papers, talking to someone on speakerphone. His hair was a mess and he was still in pajamas, which probably meant he hadn’t left the apartment all day. There was a bowl of baby carrots near him, a half-eaten one sitting next to his papers.

“...just got home, so I gotta go,” Taako said saying. “I’ll call soon, yeah? You’re a fuckin’ miracle worker, Steven.”

“Eh, it’s all in a day’s work,” Steven’s voice said from the phone. “We’re on your side here, kiddo.”

“Not a kiddo,” Taako said, like he always did.

“Uh-huh,” Steven said, in his the same doubtful tone he always replied in. “Talk to ya soon. And get some rest, huh? Bye.”

“Bye,” Taako said, hanging up. He turned to face Lup, looking tired but happy. “How’d your study sesh go?”

“Fine, I guess,” Lup said, sitting next to him. She grabbed a few of the baby carrots from the bowl and he scowled at her. She grinned. “It was just a buncha nerds doing nerd things.”

“Bet Luce would love it,” Taako said and Lup shook her head.

“Nah, Luce is better than these nerds. Get this- one of the tutors claims that his grandfather made millions off inventing stuff. And he’s just bragging about it. He’s a fuckin’ prick, Koko.”

“Ouch,” Taako said.

“Yeah,” Lup said. “And the other dude kept asking me if I needed help every three seconds and I was like, pssh do I look like I need help? I’m only here because my professor fuckin’ made me come. Lemme work in peace.”

“Double ouch,” Taako said. “I’m sorry, Lu. I can help you if you want. Or maybe we can call up Dav and he can-”

“No,” Lup said. “I- no. You’ve got the bakery to work on, right? We need to get that set up. And Dav is probably on a business trip, who knows.”

“He’s not, actually,” Taako said, which surprised Lup. “Luce texted me earlier to tell me he came back early. There was a situation.”

“A bad situation?” Lup asked.

“Maybe,” Taako shrugged. “Luce said he hasn’t talked since he got back so I’m guessing something happened and he’s gone non-verbal for a while again.”

“Damn,” Lup said, leaning back in her chair. She took a bite of one of the baby carrots. “That sucks.”

“Yeah,” Taako said. “Brighter news, though? Steven’s helpin’ me with the business shit now.”

“For what price?” Lup asked.

“We gotta let Julia work there,” Taako said. “For experience, you know? But Maggie’s already wormed his way into our staff, so no doubt Julia was gonna end up with us anyway.”

“That’s true,” Lup said. “But hey, more hands can’t be bad, right?”

“Right,” Taako said. He shuffled through a few papers. “We’re still going with ‘For Goodness Bakes” for the name, right?”

“As long as ‘let’s bake the world a better place’ is still our tagline, for sure,” Lup said, snorting. They had come up with the name on the fly, after a night of no sleep and then never fulfilled their promise to choose something better. She shoved another baby carrot in her mouth. “What are we doing for dinner? Have you even eaten today? Besides baby carrots.”

“Baby carrots are food, Lup,” Taako said, snatching the bowl away from her. “And I have work to do.”

“Let’s get some takeout or something, then,” Lup said. “Put on a movie.”

“Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2,” Taako said. “And maybe some good takeout rather than the shitty burger place down the street. We’ve fuckin’ earned it, Lulu.”

She stole the carrots back with a scowl.

#taz #The Adventure Zone #lup #taz lup #taz november celebration #mine #hope u guys like it :O! #ise cube writing

[angelguk]

flame anon shared some jk angst thoughts so here’s fwb!au with jk but he’s in love with her and she isn’t until its too late. listen to hard feelings by lorde. a lot of back and forth between past and present in this drabble so sorry if it’s confusing. 1.4k (this drabble could be titled when forever was us)

Goeun looks good in his arm. She’s exceptionally pretty, long legs that stretch out even when she’s sitting and a perfect heart-shaped face that makes everyone stop and glance back at her. They look good together, her chestnut mane bleeding into Jeongguk’s dark curls as their heads nudge against each other. You thought that the first time you saw them together too. It was dark, the corners of that club illuminated in hues of violet and fuchsia. And still, they looked like they belonged together — fitted as one. Nobody expected it to last. Goeun was clean-cut; she held herself to high esteem, everything about her sharp and perfected. Jeongguk on the other hand — he was a perfect mess; from the tattoos on his arms to the jumble of curls on his head. Even from here, you can spot the familiar dark ink that marks his body in effortless swirls and strokes. They still look beautiful against the warmth of his golden skin, spanning from his forearms to rest along his shoulder. It’s rare for him to have them on display but the stifling heat that sits heavy in the summer air demands for it. Perhaps you're focusing on his bare skin too much because Daeun pointedly nudges your ribs, the look she directs at you after your glare settles on her face displeased.

“You can’t eye-fuck a taken man in public,” she murmurs, pressing her lips against the rim of her cup a second later. You splutter on your own drink when your ears discern the sentence leaves her mouth, the burn in your throat unpleasant.

“I wasn’t doing that!” The indignation that colours your tone is half-hearted because your eyes are already drifting back to where he is. Goeun’s huddling into his side, wearing a navy jacket that belongs to him. You know that it does because that jacket practically lived in your car a couple of months ago. He’d used it as an excuse to see you the first time — before you’d developed an arrangement and you no longer had to create a reason to tumble into his arms in the middle of the night. It just became a simple text, maybe a picture and then Jeongguk was holding you, pinning you down, learning what made your skin spark and your mouth drop. But now, he’s here. Awfully far from you, holding someone else in his arms.

“Sure,” Daeun mumbles, the disbelief her voice tangible. But you push that aside, mind unable to let go of the image of those two together and content in each other’s arms just yet.

You wish you could be mad. Or jealous. Just a little bit. But there nothing in you that allowed justifiable resentment. Goeun hadn't done anything to hurt you. Jeongguk had, but you had hurt him first — his reactions were only a consequence of your aloofness, your lack of concern for his feelings. You thought that he could handle it, how hard it was for you sympathise with others. But despite his hard exterior, Jeongguk was made of delicate glass. He’d kept it from you, how easily you stepped on his heart with every careless thought you threw in his direction. But then one day he had cracked, shattered right in the backseat of your car moments after latching his mouth onto your neck.

You remember it with piercing clarity, that night.

“Do you love me?”

It was a simple question and yet it had left you grappling for air. You’ll never be able to erase the way he’d stared at you as he awaited your answer. Bare — so bare; his soul laid out before you, asking for nothing but acceptance.

But you couldn’t do that. All you shared in common was a literature class that Namjoon had forced you to take and rather intense romps in the sheets (or in this case in your car). You knew Jeongguk but you didn’t really know him. And how could you love someone you didn’t know.

It was your silence that did it, dampened the glimmer in his pretty brown eyes. He’d shoved it away with a huffed laugh and a quick ‘never mind’ before fucking you brainless in your backseat. It was quick and hard and desperate, the hands that gripped your waist brutal and his pace unforgiving. But even then you saw it, the disappointment. He felt different in your arms when you were done, your joined sighs permeating the air, fluxing into one. There was a distance, even though your naked bodies were pressed into each other. And that made your heart ache.

You wish you had given it time  — asked for more time. Because you could have learnt to love Jeongguk. A minute part of you already did.

Jeongguk’s rather soft. He’s got a whole mini collection of lotions for his sensitive senses, he likes drawing portraits of his puppy back home, he insists on sleeping on silk-covered pillows because it’s good for his curls, he enjoys doing laundry — obsessively so — and he’s got a collection of Iron Man socks that you only saw because of that one surprise hook-up that happened when neither of you were prepared for it (they had been bunched up at the edge of his bed, waiting to be stored in his drawers before you came over).

The list he’s could go on forever but the thing that gets you the most is his smile. It doesn’t start in his lips; it starts in his eyes. A gentle sparkle trapped in his warm gaze that intensifies when his eyes crinkle up before his pretty pink petal lips stretch into a smile that makes your heart feel tight with a rush of emotions you’ve never taken the chance to examine because they terrify you. And you hate that they do. Hated it even more when he wormed himself deeper into your heart. He used to bring you your favourite lemon tea every morning during your joint lectures. He’d insisted it was because the café was right next to his dormitory building but one afternoon Namjoon had let it slip that there’s no café within direct walking distance of where Jeongguk lived and he went out of his way to bring you that cup of tea during those mornings.

“You shouldn’t play with his feelings,” Namjoon had said, tone direct and firm because even though you were his best friend, he cared for Jeongguk too.

“I’m not,” you replied. And you weren’t — you really thought you weren’t. Because you’d agreed for it to be just sex. That’s all you wanted.

That’s not what Jeongguk needed though.

“I can hear your thoughts,” Daeun whispers. Her comment draws you out of your head, bringing you back to the present moment where Jeongguk isn't yours anymore. He never really was yours if you're being honest with yourself.

“What am I thinking about?” you return, trying to drown out the vision of Jeongguk in your bed with a quick tip of your cup down your throat. The burn feels welcome now.

“Him.”

And then he laughs a second later, a joyous bright sound tinkles through the air and makes your chest feel so tight you nearly fall over. It hurts, hearing him so satisfied and happy with his life while you feel like your wadding through a haze of blue, hoping he’ll reach out a hand to save you.

“I’m over that,” you choke back, abhorring the emptiness in your cup.

“You’re not,” Daeun returns, staring at you with that perceptive gaze of hers.

You wish, you wish so bad that she wasn’t right. You wish that you didn’t have Jeongguk constantly meandering through your head. You wish you were Goeun right now, leaning into his space, letting the world know you were together. You wish that hadn’t let him go. You wish you’d tried a little harder, gave him a little more of your heart. But some things are for the better — and when you sneak a glance at him again, spy the glow in his face, you know that this was one of those things. 

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook scenario #jungkook drabble #bts x reader

[punkrockmads]

When Siblings Fight

Chapter 4

I sigh, continously clicking at an icon on my laptop screen. Broken... again. I want to ask Manny for help but he's been really stressed out about one of his patients at St. Mary's and it's been affecting his mood. He's been super tense and snippy. I know not to take his biting tone to heart because it isn't my fault but I still can't help but feel a pang of hurt when he gets frustrated with me for no reason. I decide to take my chances and ask Manny to help me.

I walk into the living room to see Manny sitting on the couch, leaning over the coffee table that's covered in paperwork. "Manny?" I call, tilting my head a bit to try and read the papers.

Manny lets out a long, deep groan, glaring up at me. "What is it?" His voice is thick with venom; something that scares me a bit. Sure, we've gotten on each other's nerves before but he's never acted like this towards me. Especially when I've done nothing wrong.

I bite my tongue, being patient and holding back my frustration for what feels like the millionth time this week. "My laptop froze again." I say, quickly; almost as though I'm ripping off a bandaid.

"Jesus Christ." Manny seethes. That familiar pang of hurt hits my chest. "Maddy, I can't help you right now. I've gotta figure some stuff out." I reach out to grab one of the papers.

"Can I hel-"

"No!" Manny shouts, smacking my hand away. I pull my hand back as if I had just touched fire, the flames licking at my skin and charring it. "¡Vete a la mierda! God, you're so annoying!" That's it. That's the final straw. I feel my throat tighten, glaring at Manny.

"Why are you acting like this?" I yell, trying not to cry. "What did I do wrong?"

"You're bothering me while I'm trying to do important work so I can afford the things we need so you don't end up in a foster home! Do you wanna go into foster care?! Be my guest!" I let a tear slip when Manny looks back to his paperwork.

"Maybe I should go back to my old house." I say, just loud enough for Manny to hear. I don't mean it, I'm just hurt. I slowly back away before turning and running back upstairs to my room. I hold in the rest of my tears until I hear the front door close, notifying me that Manny has left for work. As soon as the door closes, I let go, curling up into a ball on my bed and sobbing, my laptop sitting open on my desk.

After sobbing for what feels like hours but was most likely only a few minutes, I decide I need some comfort. I pick up my cellphone, texting someone I know I can trust; Yara.

M= Maddy, Y= Yara

M: "Hey, you busy?"

Y: "Nope. Just watching a movie with Lev. What's up?"

M: "Would Lev mind if I steal you for a bit?"

Y: "I doubt it. Everything okay?"

M: "Yeah, I could just really use a hug right now."

Y: "I'll be there in 20."

M: "Okay."

Y: "Okay. :)"

I lock my phone, laying back on my bed and tugging at the pillowcase. Yara can always cheer me up. She's my best friend. She's funny, understanding, smart, caring, brave, really pretty... I can't deny... I've got the biggest crush on her. Not that I'm going to admit it to her. Not yet. I close my eyes, trying to distract myself from the fight with Manny by thinking about Yara. I think about the time we went to the amusement park and went on a rollercoaster that got stuck for half an hour while we were nearing the top. You'd think we would've been upset but we just laughed and joked around the whole time. The firemen were so confused when they helped us out of the ride and we were just laughing so hard our ribs hurt.

A knock on my bedroom door pulls me out of my thoughts. Yara steps in, smiling softly. "I brought leftover pizza." She says, holding up a paper plate with foil covering it. She steps into the room, closing the door behind her. "You know, you should really lock that front door." She states, plopping herself down at the foot of my bed and crossing her legs. I sit up, looking at her through teary eyes, a tiny smile on my lips.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" Yara asks, setting the plate on the floor and placing her hands on my crossed legs. I take her hands in mine, letting out a deep sigh.

"Manny and I got in a fight." I explain, biting my lip to hold back tears.

"What about?" Yara squeezes my hands, looking at me with a gentle, caring smile that fills my stomach with butterflies.

"I don't know, I..." I pause, taking a breath. "I asked him why he's been so stressed and he just snapped at me. He asked if I wanted to go to a foster home." More tears fall down my cheeks, my attempts to keep them in proving to be unsuccessful. Yara's smile turns into a small frown as she pulls me into a hug, arms wrapping around my neck. I hug her back, hiding my face in her shoulder.

"I'm not trying to make excuses for him but, whatever Manny said, I'm sure he didn't mean it. He's just a little overwhelmed right now." Yara says, brushing her fingers through my hair. I hug her waist tighter, the faint scent of green apple shampoo making me feel even more admiration for her. 'God, even the smell of her hair is wonderful. Okay... creepy.'

"I just wish he'd talk to me about what's stressing him out instead of treating me like a burden." I mumble, pulling away from the hug to look at Yara.

Yara's warm smile returns as she wipes the tears from my damp, rosy cheeks. "You are not a burden." She says, voice sweet like honey. "And Manny didn't mean it. You know that, right?" I nod, giving her a thankful smile and sniffling a bit. She sets her hands on my shoulders, her face resting so close to mine. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" She asks with a playful grin. My smile grows wider as I look into her gorgeous brown eyes.

"Pizza and Markiplier?" I ask.

"Pizza and Markiplier." Yara nods, grabbing the plate off the floor and sitting beside me on the bed as I grab the TV remote off the desk. I curl up against her, our backs against the wall, arms around each other as I search for a video to watch. About halfway through 'Escape the Ayuwoki', Yara and I fall asleep, my head resting on her shoulder, legs tangled together. 'This isn't a friend thing, is it? It can't be. It feels so different.'

"Maddy!" I jump at the sound of Manny's voice followed by the front door shutting. He's home. I sit up, noticing Yara and I have ended up laying on the bed. She's still asleep, laying on her side, lips parted slightly and her chest moving slightly with every breath. She's so cute. I rub my eyes, deciding to go see what Manny wants before he yells again and accidentally wakes Yara. I wiggle my way out of bed, careful not to wake her, myself. I go downstairs, searching for Manny and finding him in the kitchen, his back towards me. The moment he hears me walk in, he whips around and grabs me in a tight hug. Confused, I hug back, my arms loosely wrapped around his torso.

"I'm so sorry." Manny sighs. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I was stressed and I took it out on you and you didn't deserve it." I pull away to look at his guilty face.

"Hey, it's okay." I assure, worried Manny might start crying. He's very emotional as it is and whatever is causing his bad mood isn't helping. "I forgive you." I notice his distressed expression immediately relax a bit.

"I've, uh... not been very tolerable lately, huh?" Manny sighs. I nod, a small smile on my face to show I'm not angry with him. "This little boy about Lev's age came into the hospital a couple weeks ago. Beaten almost to death. We found out his parents were the ones that did it to him and it just... it reminded me of you. How, if you hadn't been saved when you were, you could've ended up like him." I listen to his explanation, gazing into his sad eyes. "I thought he'd make it... thought I could save him and he'd get to start over and be placed with a better family. One that loved him. But I couldn't.... his injuries were too severe. He died in that hospital bed three days ago. Before he even got a chance to feel loved." I can tell he blames himself. I can see it in the way he looks at the floor, his expression gloomy.

"It's not your fault." I say. "You did everything you could and you cared for him in his last moments when he needed it most." I hug Manny again, tighter this time. He takes a deep breath, letting it out with a huff.

"I'm so happy you're my sister. I can't imagine who I'd be without you." Manny says.

"You'd probably be a pimp or a drug dealer." I joke, lightening the atmosphere. Manny chuckles, letting go and smiling at me.

"I love you, nena." He says.

"I love you too, hermano." I reply. Suddenly, I remember Yara is still sleeping upstairs. "I gotta go back upstairs before Yara wakes up and freaks when she sees I'm not there." I explain, walking back towards the stairs.

"Oh, Yara's here?" Manny asks, knowing damn well I have a crush on my best friend.

"Yeah." I say, standing on the bottom step. He smiles, teasingly. "We were watching Markiplier." I roll my eyes at his suggestive smirk.

"Well, see if she wants to stay over tonight." Manny says. "I'll call Abby and ask if she and Lev wanna join. We can have movie night."

"Do we have sour gummy worms?" I ask, causing Manny to laugh. What can I say? Sour gummy worms are the best.

"I think so." Manny nods.

"Yes!" I cheer, grinning. "I'm gonna go wake up Yara!" And with that, I run upstairs to notify Yara of our plans.

#abby tlou #tlou2 #lev tlou #personal #the last of us 2 #the last of us #manny alvarez #manny tlou #abby anderson #yara tlou #fanfiction

[pibt-tm]

Pls post more klavier and apollo scenarios

Some sleebpy hcs for them cuz I’m tired:

- They’re both really quiet sleepers, but Apollo can get restless at times.

- Both of them have occasional nightmares and they would stay awake just to be there for each other when this happens

- Apollo is the one who wakes up first and goes to bed first most of the time. Klavier is a late sleeper because he’s used to staying up late from concerts and his sleep schedule is a mess.

- They have caught each other sleeping next to their pets

- One morning Apollo wakes up trapped in Klavier’s arms while Klav is still sleeping and he doesn’t want to wake him up, so he tries to carefully worm his way out to go get breakfast.

- There were a couple times where Klavier has stolen the whole blanket on the bed and Apollo would wake up to realize he’s completely uncovered, so he grumbles and grabs an extra one from the closet.

- Apollo has probably woken Klavier up with his loud voice by accident a few times and he feels bad about it

- They have a hard time staying awake during late night movies because work is exhausting

- (I’m totally projecting from experience and my friends can confirm this LOL): Both of them would stay up late just to talk to each other over the phone or on FaceTime until at least one of them starts getting tired and can barely speak/type coherently.

- (Cont. from above): By the time Apollo moved to Khura'in, they were constantly dealing with time zone differences. Klavier would text or call Apollo during the night in the US, and since he misses him so much, he would force himself to stay awake while calling until he passes out mid-conversation. He loves staying up to talk to Apollo, and his texts are generally neat and coherent... until he gets sleepy. Apollo often sees Klavier’s exhaustion in his typos or hear it in the way he speaks and he would tell him to go to bed, but Klavier’s like “nooooo I still wanna talk to you” and then immediately falls asleep after. He’s also done this during their Skype calls and Apollo would have to wake him up.

#Asks #Ace Attorney #Headcanons #Apollo Justice #Klavier Gavin #Klapollo

[tillman]

Hi, it's Valentine, back with another essay on Lancelot again. I’m deranged and you all have to accept this. Anyways this ones been a long time coming mostly because i'm lazy and only now had some free time to sit down and delve into so many sources to find quotes and proof for the main claim of this post: Mr Lancelot du Lac is an autistic man. Hes also trans and gay and i have proof for both of those (one is literally not even subtext) but those are for different essays. 

Anyways to start off with some smaller bits I wanna at least mention the history connecting autistic people with changelings or fae. The idea of a normal seeming child being “replaced” by something not entirely human to explain neurological differences has been around for a while and can tie in with a lot of autistic people's feelings of being different or completely disconnected from those around them. Thematically all of this ties in with Lancelot’s narrative of being “stolen away” by a fae as a child and coming back different. He grew up in a realm of fairies, and Chrétien de Troyes in Knight of the Cart, which may be the first story about Lancelot, simply calls his mother who in later texts grows to be the Lady of the Lake, “a fairy.” Another smaller point is Lancelot tends to go nonverbal when he gets extremely upset which is neat! One bit i can’t get a quote for (vulgate pdf when) is after Galehaut’s death, he locks up completely and his mother, the Lady, who is wonderful and perfect, explains the situation for him. You could also look at all the times Lancelot runs off into the woods and refuses to speak for a while for more proof of that. He does this a lot. It's just a thing people expect from him.

Anyways, I wanna talk about Lancelot’s inability to comprehend emotions or communication in general. Please, I've been dying to talk about Lancelot’s issues with communication for days. God he has them and I can relate so hard. Covering the dutch prose first just look at the story of the hart with the white foot. A lady comes to court talking about how whatever knight will get the foot of his hart will get her hand in marriage. Lancelot actually ends up missing the lady speak about what will happen, and after hearing Kay fail to do it, declares hell go after this hart instead. "When he heard this account / he spoke impetuously: / "By my faith, I fully intend / to follow this little dog.” He doesn’t think it though, he doesn't really know what he's getting into, Lancelot is just a yes man who likes doing knightly deeds. He has to in the end be rescued twice by Gawain, one from his fucking up while hunting the hart, and the other by accidently leading a lady on thinking that he’ll marry her, something Gawain negotiates Lancelot out of. Moving onto not the dutch prose since i just spent 3 hours reading up on it, let's move onto le morte.

Malory pulls a lot from the french sources, and i'll talk about what he left out in a sec cus . god. But I mostly want to touch on his relationship with two of the people he’s closest to, those being Guenevere and Gawain. Guenevere is a very weird case considering her literal emotional manipulation of him in moments he is very vulnerable and just how not great she is to him in general but his take on their relationship is honestly pretty easy to pin down. Lancelot honestly idolizes Guenevere, as his queen, as his lady, as a person who showed him basic respect when he first came to court. He has the mindset that a knight should love and do anything for his lady, and after Guenevere knights him really without any thought to what she was doing, he decided he would do anything for her. The vulgate does a better job dealing with their relationship through the mediator figure of Galehaut who is a whole other bag of worms, but Guenevere mostly indulges him for the fun of it. She sees that he’s a young knight who’s willing to die for her and uses this to her advantage politically and for other reasons. This constantly goes over Lancelot's head, until towards the end of le morte where he finally realizes how much he suffers for this relationship while she doesn't even care, “This is not the first time, said Sir Launcelot, that ye had been displeased with me causeless, but, madam, ever I must suffer you, but what sorrow I endure I take no force.” He resigns himself to put up with a relationship he admits is actively hurting him because he believes it’s love, and as a good knight, he should love his lady. His relationship with Gawain is less dicey, and more him constantly not getting Gawain’s implications. He admits to his love of Gawain only during their war saying in the vulgate, “But he will never be able to hate me so much that I stop loving him." Like. bold of him to just ignore all of Gawains previous advances until theyre in a life or death war. Bro accept your homoerotic rivals and move on already. 

Another casualty from Lancelot not realizing emotional connotations until too late is Galehaut, who literally dies of longing over the knight. Like Elaine of Astolat but worse because Galehauts just genuinely one of the best people in Arthurian literature. He doesn’t realize until too late that the person who actually loves him is the one willing to do anything for him, and ends up almost killing himself over Galehauts death. I have too much to say on that and it's not relevant to anything in this essay but god know i yearn over them all the time. 

Other thing is Lancelot has a lot of struggle with mental health anyways,  he really just truly is traumatized and that’s kinda fucked. He has a lot of problems with depression and poor coping mechanisms. I mean his main coping mechanism is falling asleep instead of dealing with the issues. That's not completely on topic but it's a big mood and ties in vaguely and also i don't have any other way to end this. There are way more bits to add but i am falling asleep at my desk and need to get lunch before it gets too late. Anyways this is probably not great i wrote this in 4 hours directly after waking up at 12 and spent 2 of those hours reading literary essays on the dutch romances. GOOD NIGHT . 

#this got out of hand quickly because of how tired i am and i DO NOT CARE. #is this good? no. absolutely not . my eyes are burning and i need food. but OH WELL #txt

[jinned]

BTS React- You surprise them and take them out on a date

-”really?” he says with a cute blush

-does that shy smile

-asks what he should wear and asks about the setting environment

-he moans and whines but in reality he’s really excited that you decided to surprise him

-he’s not used to being spoiled so when you take him to an old music shop you found, he’s over the moon

-you watch happily as he bounces from bin to bin, picking up different CD’s and admiring the artwork

-he’ll grab your wrist and lead you over to some great finds he found, telling you all about the artist’s history and how much they’ve influenced his own work

-when you go to check out, he stammers as you pull out your own wallet and buy everything he picked out

-”Y/N. You didn’t have to do that. Just taking me here was enough!”

-you laugh and hand the bag of goodies over to him, a big, bright smile on your face. “I’m spoiling you today.”

-you sit in the parking lot for a good 15 minutes, Namjoon not allowing you to drive yet until he picks the perfect CD to show you

-once the PERFECT album has been selected, Namjoon loses himself, excitingly gushing about certain lyric meanings

-when you get home he rushes to his studio and proudly displays his new finds on his music shelf

-we all know Jin loves his food

-so it’s no surprise that you go on a lot of restaurant dates

-he loved showing you his new finds and gorging out with you, taking cute couple pics with your dishes

-so when you got the idea to take him to this new food cart area, you were almost buzzing with excitement

-when he got home from work on Friday night you were already ready to go

-”Y/N,” he groans, drawing out your name. “I just walked in. Let me get settled.”

-”Nope!” You beam. “Get changed. We’re going out!”

-It���s obvious he’s very tired, but he smiles and does as he’s told

-the air is crisp as you step outside your home. you grab Jin's hand and skip beside him

-Jin looks at you fondly before joining you in your joyous skipping

-when you get to the food carts, the sky is darkening and the street lights are just starting to turn on

-"what is this place?" Seokjin wonders in amazement

-"there's about fifteen different food carts here. and I'm here to buy whatever you want."

-"is this why you purposefully didn't pack my lunch today?"

-"bingo"

-"you're the best!" he kisses your cheek and runs off, ping ponging from cart to cart

-it's easy for Yoongi to get caught up in the little things in life

-you'd wake up in the middle of the night to find him sitting up, wringing his hands in his lap, clearly mulling over something that was bugging him

-all you could really do in those moments is rub soothing circles across his back, hoping to rub some of the worries away

-having had a particularly sleepless week, you decided that it's time to surprise him with a little getaway

-you spent the whole morning preparing a picnic with his favorite sandwiches, snacks, and juice

-when Yoongi wakes up, you tell him to get ready

-sleepily, he nods his head and gets in the shower

-while he's showering, you go into your bedroom and get his clothes ready for him

-"thank you, y/n." he kisses your temple as he gets dressed, his movements slow

-once in the car, you steal a few glances at your boyfriend

-he has his hand hanging out the car window, letting the wind carry it, his head bops to the beat of the music playing softly through the radio, completely lost in his own world

-you find a place to park and gather up the picnic basket and blanket from the trunk

-"here, let me take that." Yoongi reaches out and grabs the basket from your arms while you remain with the blanket

-you smile as he takes your hand, you leading the way to a favorite spot you both share

-the spot is in the grass by a grand willow tree foreseeing a large pond

-the sun is shining but it's not too hot thanks to the gentle breeze blowing against your backs

-you lay out the blanket and Yoongi wordlessly sits down with the basket and opens it

-watching him fondly, you see him smile while looking down at the contents

-"this is all for me?" he looks at you with a shy grin

-"of course! I wanted to spend the day with you. I've been kind of worried about you."

-Yoongi scoots closer to you and wraps an arm around your back, pulling your head against his shoulder. he rests his head on top of yours and rubs small circles against your arm

-"thank you," he mutters

-you spend the rest of the day enjoying the picnic you've prepared and watch the ducks swim around in the pond

-one week

-one entire week your air conditioner has been out

-in the middle of summer of course

-it has made both you and Hoseok miserable

-so much so that you've been picking fights with one another

-you're at work on friday in the nice cool ac, finally able to think straight when you realize how ridiculous you've both been

-you tried to think of a way to make it up to your boyfriend

-looking over at your coworkers desk and seeing a particular object made by their kid gave you a brilliant idea

-after work you rushed to the nearest store

-when you open the door to your home you can't even try to hold back your groan as you're hit with a wave of heat

-it's colder outside than it is inside and it didn't matter if you had the windows open or not

-the musky humid smell in the air is enough to make you want to turn back around and sleep in your office

-you adjust your grip on your grocery bags and stand firm with your idea and lock the door behind you

-"I'm home!" you yell into the house

-moving to the living room, you set down your grocery bags and take out a few items

-"what are you doing?" Hoseok sighs and looks at you

-"filling the coffee table. sit"

-he wordlessly complies and watches as you continue to take different snacks from ramen to raspberries to sour gummy worms to sour cream and onion pringles 

-after the table is set, you walk over to the ac unit and, with a smug smirk on your face, you turn on the air conditioning

-”whoa!” Hoseok baffles as he looks around the room, feeling the cool air being pumped into the room

-”I got us snacks, a working air conditioner, and some colored pencils. I figured we can have a stay at home date and enjoy our newly operating ac.”

-Hoseok smiles widely, eagerly searching for the colored pencils while you put in a movie

-Jimin had been working extra hard lately, leaving no room to lounge and rest

-and knowing him, he won’t stop until his body gives out on him

-the beginnings of fall have quickly arrived and walking outside in the chilly air has proven to be rather....unpleasant

-but on your way home, you walk past a new shop that has opened up 

-and ding ding ding LIGHTBULB

-Jimin comes home after a long day of practice and flings himself on the couch

-he looks utterly exhausted and it pains you to see him work himself this hard

-you’re sitting on the chair by the window pretending to read

-”so,” you say, nonchalantly turning an unread page. “I talked with your manager...”

-”yeah?” Jimin calls out, unmoving

-”he told me that you can have tomorrow off.” you smile as his head pops up quickly, his eyebrows raised high with disbelief

-”and I have a surprise for yooouu.” you sing and close your book, making your way towards him to leave a kiss on his forehead

-the next day Jimin is practically bouncing circles around you, begging for you to tell him what the surprise is

-”here it is!” you exclaim with outstretched arms towards the shop you saw yesterday

-”a...massage...parlour?” 

-”let’s go. our appointments are in five minutes.”

-as you lay on the table, face pointed towards your boyfriend, you smile as he shuts his eyes, the white towel covering his butt leaving the rest of his body exposed

-but you quickly shake those thoughts out of your mind. this is about getting Jimin to relax

-well...you can get him to relax in that way LATER

-you know he would never come get a massage on his own and honestly? who would turn down a couples massage

-you watch with delight as the masseuse rubs out the knots in his back, soft moans of relief leaving his lips

-you have the best boyfriend in the world

-one who caters to you, listens to you, and is always looking for ways to spoil you

-so you wanted to surprise him with your own thought out date!

-it’s a bright and sunny morning and you wake up buzzing, totally amped to take your cute ass boyfriend on a cute ass date to the zoo

-Taehyung speeds to get ready when you tell him what you’re doing today and the drive to the zoo is filled with loud singing and random dances in the car

-after you’re in the zoo, you give Taehyung some money

-and before you can tell him it’s for food and snacks for the day, maybe even a cute t shirt

-he bee lines it for the gift shop

-not even five minutes later he comes out with this big ol stuffed gorilla that’s almost as big as you are

-”HIS NAME IS HARAMTAE!”

-you just laugh and take Taehyung’s hand while he lugs the gorilla under his other arm

-throughout the rest of the date you take lots of pics with Haramtae and make silly faces at the animals

-it’s a day Taehyung talks about for a long time

-life seems to have been getting to Jungkook lately

-he constantly feels like he can’t do anything right

-and that weight has been getting heavier and heavier

-it’s been a while since the two of you have gone out and had a date night and you knew the basic dinner and movie scene wasn’t going to play out well during these times

-he needs to laugh and to have fun. judgeless fun

-you go to the bank and get as many nickels as you can before getting weird looks from the bank teller

-and you run out of the bank with your ziplock bags of nickels like the real goblin you are

-then you text your boyfriend where to meet you

-you wait anxiously by the front door until you see Jungkook stagger in, hands tucked deeply into his pockets

-a small smile breaks out as he sees you and then he looks around more

-”a nickel arcade?” he chuckles and shakes his head

-”person with the least amount of tickets buys dinner!”

-you throw a ziplock bag at him and rush off to find the easiest game that’ll give you the most tickets

-after a short period of time, a genuine smile is permanently painted on Jungkook’s face as the two of you run around the arcade like mad men, tickets flying over your shoulders and shouting back banter to one another

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

♡𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓂𝑜𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓎 ♡

© do not copy, modify, translate, or repost. Jinitude 9/23/19

#bts #hyunglinenetwork #moonchildnetwork #bts react #bts reactions #jungkook #taehyung #jimin #hoseok #yoongi #seokjin #namjoon #ot7 #ot7 react #thekimlinenet #bts x you #reader insert #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts fluff #fluff reaction

[parrrty-poison]

ok so very long post. (not that it matters as i talk to the void askgdjjeh)

let's be real. who's the only two people i really think about when i’m seriously thinking about death? my sisters. my mom too, but mostly my sisters. and ok yeah, maybe what my mom would be like to my sisters if she was dealing with me being gone but that’s a whole other can of worms. in the end it’s always about my sisters. and i truly genuinely believe one of them hates me deep down and doesn’t really care about me, which, fair. i guess you don’t get over the people who were shitty to you in your developing years? except i got over her being shitty right back to me but whatever. i’m the oldest. it’s never been about me. and i think they probably feel like it’s always been all about me because i was so problematic back in the day, which was mostly because of my mom and what we came to find out was literally just my genes so there’s not much else i could have done. that doesn’t make me blame myself any less tho.

it doesn’t matter now. the point is, i pissed off my sisters more than i made them like me i think, and then we started living in different countries and it’s never been the same since then. i know i’m the odd one out in the family now. my parents say they don’t talk to me because they assume i’m always busy with school, which i am, but if they actually tried to talk to me i would find the time. i have way more time now. the problem is after all this time i have absolutely no idea how to reach out to anyone. they only care about me doing well in school anyway. which i do somehow, no matter how fucked up shit gets or how much shit i’m on to get through it. that’s my one real talent. so whenever i talk to them i only tell them what they want to hear and with my dad we’re already constantly dealing with enough other shit with the government by trying to keep me in school and in the country despite this country’s best efforts to get rid of me. so how could i ever bring up my feelings on top of that?? i’m always worried about our family’s financial situation no matter what and i am tired of being a burden because i wasn’t supposed to be anymore, i only am because of the government. so despite my best efforts i keep giving my parents enough to worry about. 

and then my sisters. like i said, i’ve been the odd one out for a long time now and i have no idea how to come back from that. i know they’re literally always facetiming, which is the only way i get to talk to my little sister cause carla was here and apparently they can’t go a single day without talking to each other so while she was staying with me i got to hang out with both of them. it kept me sane for a bit there. even if i knew it wasn’t for me. 90% of the time i have no idea wtf they’re talking about and every time i ask them and they try to explain they just dismiss it and say it’s some tik tok shit or something. and yeah ok i refuse to get one cause honestly, social media is toxic af and i have enough shit to worry about already so i don’t have the mental energy for it. and honestly i don’t have the attention span for tik tok. but yeah, i know me living under a metaphoric rock doesn’t help but i’m trying to keep myself somewhat sane. but that means i have nothing to talk about with my sisters. 

when carla was here she literally barely interacted with me cause she’s on her phone all.the.fucking.time. to the point where i know it’s straight up rude but i didn’t wanna say anything cause i know she’d just say i sounded like my mom. and i know most of the time she was just texting my other sister and honestly? it hurts ok? maricel was like 11 when i last lived with her and i was 18 so we had nothing in common and now i missed all these fucking years of being around her while she grew up. and somehow she’s still nicer to me than carla. maybe cause i didn’t get the chance to be as much of a shitty sister to her back in the day due to the age difference. she definitely didn’t get the worst of my horribly mentally ill unmedicated self. look, the facts add up ok? i’m not an idiot. i can see why things happen but i have absolutely no fucking idea how to change them.

and in the end what i have is this. somehow, despite my best efforts, which were actually pretty damn good despite everything, i am here again. i mean, my first semester of grad school, all the insane shit that happened in the span of less than 3 months really, that would have broken me back in the day. 2020 may have been a horrible year for everybody but personally, 2019 was a straight-up personal attack. and i made it through. without anyone knowing about any major breakdowns (I guess except for Tom and Borna) and with semi-decent grades. everyone in the program agreed that my first semester was one for the books in the worst possible way.

but i made it to 2020. and then 2020 happened. and i learned what being stuck in a 5x5 room for almost a month does to a person, aside from everything else. and i remember telling my therapist i hoped one of the things we would all learn from the pandemic was how long-term solitary confinement has never been an okay way of punishment. cause that’s the last time i felt truly seriously suicidal and literally had to physically fight myself not to do it. and it slowly got better.

but here we are again. and it’s not the same, not at all. it’s just it’s fucking winter and every winter i struggle to make it through like clockwork. in fact, i thought this time i’d be okay cause i made it all the way to late november just fine, which is unheard of. but i did. and then it all came crashing down like a fucking landslide. and god, i tried to stay on my feet for as long as i could, i really did. but when that wave hit it hit hard. it fucking knocked me to my knees. and for as long as i could i hid behing people, i clinged to them like a fucking lifeline even if i knew they’d rather be somewhere else. i got my sister to stay with me because i knew she hated being with my dad more. it was a win-win cause i couldn’t leave her there, i know how much she hates that place cause i hate it too. she didn’t pay attention to me almost the whole time she was here and i only had so much money to take her out places, seeing as i’m not being paid for work anymore. but as long as she was here i wasn’t allowed to be an alcoholic mess or kill myself. as soon as she left i went back to that. 

And then Tom died. i don’t even know how to deal with this still. it only happened last week. but i don’t know how to tell people i need them. and i really do need them. but no one’s coming of their own volition and i never learned how to ask for help cause the couple times i did my mom told me to stop being crazy so i never asked again. and yeah. i’m 24 and i still haven’t fully managed to get past that but since then people have consistently proved to me that asking for help is a waste of time. so yeah, i have no idea how to tell anyone i’m on the verge of jumping off a metaphorical cliff. cause i hate sounding dramatic and i feel like any time i talk about my feelings at all that’s just what it’s like to everyone. dramatic. dramatic and uncomfortable. 

and because i never do it, if i do it now it’s gonna be even weirder. i mean, last week i sat on the kitchen floor and listened to justin rant about how he feels his friend doesn’t want to be friends with him anymore and that feeling sucks, i know, but when i mentioned Tom he was like “huh?? oh yeah i forgot about that” like i hadn’t told him about it the night before. he hasn’t asked me how i’m doing even once, no one has. Jo did once and then she bailed. but yeah, i feel like i try so hard to be a good and supportive friend to justin and he just doesn’t give a shit about me. and i have a feeling he, and maybe most of my friends here??, thinks i simply do not have any feelings because i don’t show them in front of people. sure, i refuse to have anyone see me cry ever, but like that’s not the only way to show emotions??? but no one seems to get that???

So sure, no one cares about your feelings when you always seem to be okay on the outside, no matter how much shit you know is happening on the inside. My point is, my sisters hate me or don’t care about me and that’s the only people i really care about hurting. So. Yeah. Fuck what my meds say, maybe it is a good call to kill myself. Only time will tell i suppose.

#i guess heres the rant that ive been holding in forever lol #its the shit i could never write in my actual journal #cause it would require actual ink #and somehow that's harder than just screaming into the endless very public void that is tumblr?