#i hate leaving it centric around just these two but. i’m too tired to think of more

[apollos-boyfriend]

i’ve been thinking about the concept of twitch chat not as a chat, but just as an audience, like that of a play. in the same vein of thought as hamlet crying out for the audience to help him, or orpheus begging the audience to tell him if eurydice is still following, turning around when he gets no response. they know they’re being watched. they don’t know their audience can’t do anything. they plead and beg, not understanding why the hundreds of thousands watching them refuse to help.

a tommy who knows he’s being watched during exile. who begs for help until his voice is hoarse, pleads for someone to run and tell l’manberg of what he’s going through. he doesn’t understand why they still watch. why they sit there in silence as he goes through day after day of pure hell. if they cared so much about him, they would get help, right? they would do something. were they enjoying his torment? is that why they refused to act? no matter how much he prays for answers, the eyes watching him remain silent.

a ranboo who knows they’ve been watched while they enderwalk. the audience is with him always, are they not? they must know of what he does. of what he’s done. why won’t they tell him, despite all his begging? have they not suffered enough? it’s almost maddening, knowing the answers are seemingly right there, if only someone would break the silence. why won’t they break the silence?

#icarus speaks #do you get me #i’m bleh rn so i can’t think of more #i hate leaving it centric around just these two but. i’m too tired to think of more #something something cbedwars

[iwadori]

Haikyu Boys when they make you insecure PT 2(Atsumu,Suna)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3  Part 4  Part 5 Part 6

word count: 1.6K

Genre: angst,fluff

Masterlist

Atsumu:

You have been dating the great setter of the MSBY Jackals since your third year in highschool 

You’ve always been okay with his profession 

Even when it comes with the adoring fans he has (the ones that don’t necessarily like you..)

And the away games he goes to, that you can’t always go to because of your job.

You and Atsumu got to spend all of quarantine together, which was challenging at times. As you and Atsumu sometimes did have conflicting personalities but you loved being together for 8months + altogether. 

But now with the restrictions being lifted, Atsumu got to go back to practice and playing some games although you still got to work from home. Over lockdown, you do feel like you gained a bit of weight (which you didn’t pay much attention to since didn’t everyone gain some weight?) 

However, today you were scrolling through twitter, smiling fondly at the recent tweet ‘tsumu made about you;

@ ThebetterMiya: ‘Remember this @ *Insert your twitter handle here* ‘ 

It was a picture of the two of you in high school in your second year, with you giving Atsumu a hug just after his game against Karasuno. The memory made you smile, but your positive thoughts stopped after seeing a particular comment... “Y/N has definitely let herself go” it read.

 To your surprise Atsumu even liked the comment, you didn’t want to overthink things as you know that Atsumu just unconsciously likes comments and tweets without thinking all the time. But you can’t lie and say you didn’t agree with the comment. 

For the rest of the day, you spent your time googling and searching personal trainers and gyms that were open for you to go to and new healthy diet plans to try

.Atsumu came home a while later, tired and grumpy claiming that coach worked him extra hard in practice. Because of your newfound idea to start eating and being more healthy, you decided to have one last day of ‘letting go’ so your ordered yours and ‘tsumu’s favourite take out.

Whilst eating dinner, you were going INNN as you should  because this is basically your ‘last meal’ you were going to have. ‘tsumu caught onto your cavemen-like way of eating which made him chuckle a bit. “Hey babe, woahh you’re really hungry aren’t ya?” 

His comment threw you off, even though you know that he probably didn’t mean anything by it but from the comment on his twitter earlier and how you already feel about yourself it just didn’t help.

“Well what do you mean about that?” you say a little agressively “you think i’m getting bigger right?”

Your question threw him off guard since he didn’t mean that “well Y/N I know you’ve kinda let youself go a bit and you’re obviously not the weight you were when we 16 but-” before he could finish you get up out of your seat and rushed to your room with tears in your eyes, missing the end of his sentence which was “but I still think you’re beautiful” he murmurs.

He decided to give you some space for a bit, and before approaching he see’s your phone ringing (lets just say you and Atsumu have ultimate trust so you can answer eachothers phones :3) “Hello is this Y/N L/N” the person on the otherside of the phone asked 

“No, this is Miya Atsumu” your boyfriend replied 

“Oh! Miya-san i’m a big fan of you!” he started making Atsumu chuckle “I was just calling Y/N to say i’m available next week saturday to start training”

‘Training?’ Atsumu thought “Can I ask what training you’re preparing for with Y/N” he asks

“Oh I am a personal trainer.” he replied “ Well that’s all I can say, can you please tell Y/N-san to call me again so we can work out times.” he ended the call.

Atsumu goes into your shared-bedroom where he finds you on your laptop looking at ‘weight loss’ tips. He goes over to you and closes your laptop lid and pulls your hand to lead you to the mirror in the room. He stands you in front of it and puts his arms around your waist and his head on your shoulder.

“You’re beautiful Y/N” he says, sparking more tears in your eyes “I think you misunderstood what I said earlier, you. are. goregous. babe” he says punctuating every single word. “Even, if you feel like you gained weight, or lost weight or whatever I will always think your beautiful. If you feel like you want or need to change I will definitely support you along the way, but I think you’re amazing Y/N.”

“Thank you ‘tsumu” you start “ I do feel a bit insecure about the way I look right now, and I’m sorry for my abrupt leave at dinner but I do feel like my body is gross but I do want to try to see myself the way you see me.”

After many efforts from Atsumu, you definitely fell back in love with your body wether you were bigger or small you didn’t care cause you knew you were beautiful either way and so did Atsumu which he reminded you of that every single day.

AN: Can someone give me a synonym for beautfiul lmao cause that’s the only word I can think to use lol.

Suna:

You and Suna have always surprised people when they find out that you’re together.

Since your loud and talkative personality mixed with his quiet and nonchalantness is that a word? seems to not work well for other people

But opposites attract right?

You just finished the last episode of Kakegurui and were excited for your boyfriend to come home so you can tell him about it. You and Suna have been dating for a few years, after you confessed to him in front of all the boys in the gym in your 3rd year.

Suna enters the house mumbling a soft “Hi Y/N” to which you responded back with “Hi suna” rushing towards your boyfriend with a big hug. 

He slightly recoiled back out of your hug making you frown, to which he used the excuse of ‘I smell bad from practice let me take a shower.’ Whilst he was in the shower you decided to make some dinner for you both since it seems that Suna is a bit ‘grumpy’ today.

Once he exits the shower, and gets changed, he sees the table set out with the delicious food you made. You exit the bathroom to see him sat down already eating his plate. “How do you like it ?” you ask him wanting to know his opinion on your food.

“It’s good” he mumbles, continuing to shove food in his mouth. A bit bothered by the lack of response, you decide to talk about the newest episode in the hopes of lighting the mood. “Last episode of Kakegurui was great Rin, you should’ve seen it I really love mary. She’s great, I am a Mary Saotome simp through and through I still didn’t get the game they played but who cares? I can’t wait for season 3 to come out, I’ve already ordered the first 3 volumes of the Kakegurui twin manga, do you think it’s as good as the manga since I do think it’ll probably be better since it is Mary-centric and who hates mary since she-” You ramble on not taking notice of the bubbling annoyance that Suna seemed to have.

“Can you just shut up Y/N” he shouted making you flinch “ You’re so fucking talktative gosh” he got up and left the house slamming the door shut making you jump again. 

Instead of wallowing in your bed you decide on going out the library to go and read a good book (something that always makes you feel better) forgetting the harsh tone that Suna used with you. You were only trying to lighten the mood...

You got too engrossed with your books to notice how the sun is now gone and it was pitch black outside, the librarian notified you that it was time to go, you figure that if Suna was back at home he would’ve cooled down now so you can have a proper conversation which to be honest, you didn’t really want one.

Once you enter your house, Suna rushes towards you enveloping you in a big hug murmuring a “Oh thank god I was so worried” he tried to give you a kiss on the forehead but you recoil out of it, just as he did to you earlier. 

“I think i’m going to go to bed Rin” you say quietly trudging towards your bedroom and getting immediately in your bed. Suna stood there in the spot you left him in feeling bad for what he said to you at dinner. He goes into you bedroom and see you on your bed and silently gets into it next to you.

“Y/N I know you probably don’t want to hear me right now, but I am sorry” You don’t respond but slowly move closer to him letting him put his arm around you. Because of your silence Suna continues to speak “Umm...I watched the last episode earlier and you were right Mary Saotome is the goat but.... yumeko is better” he said teasingly 

This made you smile, as this is what you wanted a nice moment with your boyfriend talking about the last episode of your favourite show. You spend the rest of the night arguing over which character is better and decide to start Demon Slayer together, with Suna enjoying your after episode talks that you have.

AUTHOR NOTE: I was really excited to write for Suna and Atsumu but I have a fat migraine so i’m so sorry for it not being thattt gooood today :// but I hope you enjoy it regardless 

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader comfort #haikyuu fluff #haikyu angst #atsumu scenarios #atsumu x female reader #atsumu fluff #atsumu x reader #atsumu angst #suna x reader #suna angst #suna fluff #haikyuu suna #suna scenarios #signedwithane😌

[dr3amofagame]

I really love when people write about c!wilbur manipulating c!dream so I was wondering if you could write on about the smp realizing that c!wilbur manipulated c!dream into being a lap dog for him but a hell lot of trouble for then and if you could add c!wilbur taking advantage of the fact that dream is a god during a fight that would make my day. Hope you have a great day.thank you. Love your work.

ooh yeah - c!wilbur is back and GGG-ing as good as ever, , which Really makes you think abt what it’s gonna be like when he interacts with c!dream again. this ended up being a little more c!sapnap centric than i intended, hope that’s alright haha. (and thank you so much for the kind words!) 

tw: implied abuse, torture, drowning, dismemberment, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, emotional distress, dark content, prison arc/pandora’s vault, c!sapnap critical? not really?, dark portrayal of c!wilbur (typical MAD duo shenanigans)

Sapnap isn’t expecting to find anyone when he storms out in the middle of the night - he’s tense, they all are after the fiasco at the prison, but really his thoughts are filled with Karl once again going inexplicably radio silent for days on end and Quackity ignoring all of his questions with a simple “i’m busy” that he’d failed to follow up even twelve hours later, so Dream and Wilbur and whatever the hell happened that left Pandora’s Vault - obsidian, indestructible, tall and dark and proud - half-crumbled and sunken into the sea are just about the last things on his mind.  

Even so, he’s not an idiot, so he had enough foresight to pack a few potions and gather his armor and weapons before stepping into the summer night - it’s cool under the moonlight, a soft breeze cutting through the otherwise stifling weight of the humid air, and the comfortable night is enough to make his anger die down, just a little. Kinoko Kingdom glows soft and warm from the lanterns Foolish had scattered all over the place, thick with the earthy smell of fungus and flowers, and he takes a deep breath before walking to the city outskirts to hopefully clear his mind.

He’s no stranger to late-night walks; his temper had always been fiery, even as a child, and he’d figured out pretty early on that the easiest way to deal with it was to walk or run until his brain was too tired to think anymore. Walking at night also meant he could take out some of his frustration on mobs as well as the satisfaction of setting a random patch of forest on fire without worrying about burning down someone else’s property, and once he got good enough with a sword and shield to come and go relatively unscathed, Bad had stopped his worrying enough to let him do whatever as long as he came back in time in the morning. Sapnap frowns as he hacks at a random branch in his way with an axe, watching as it falls in a spray of leaves and crashes to the ground; he hasn’t seen Bad in a while, not since he became obsessed with the whole Egg thing. Quackity had mentioned some cryptic things, and Karl was adamant that they avoid the Egg as much as possible, but he probably should’ve at least visited, or something. Bad always knew what to say when it came to messy things like this.

Though - Sapnap laughs wryly - it’d never been this bad, before. Karl distant and absent, Q somehow even more so with a new glint to his gaze that sent a shiver down his spine. George, usually asleep, never around, expression perpetually foggy like he doesn’t know where he was. Dream- evil, insane, awful, somehow so familiar it hurt and too much of a stranger to recognize. He wonders when it all got this bad. He wonders what it says about himself, that he didn’t notice until it was far too late.

“Fancy seeing you out here.”

Sapnap whirls around, sword drawn; the figure staring back at him doesn’t even flinch. His eyes narrow at the sight, stance widening, shoulders tense.

“Wilbur?” He keeps his voice wary, guarded, trying his best to keep surprise from coloring his tone. Wilbur grins at him, tight-lipped, the planes of his face faintly lit by the moon shining over them, facial features only barely visible in the dim light. Without really meaning to, Sapnap cranes his head to look around at the surrounding forest, but nothing moves or makes itself known outside of the figure still staring at him, smirking. “What- what are you doing here?”

And where’s Dream?

Because Sapnap might not know much about what went down at the prison and what Dream’s plans are and the whole mess that he’d been so desperate to put behind him and utterly failed at doing so, but what he does know is that the two of them - Dream and Wilbur, Wilbur and Dream - had been all but inseparable, strangely attached to each other in a way that spelled out nothing but trouble for the rest of them. The rest of the server had been compiling sightings of the two in the hopes of being able to stop whatever it was that they had planned, but Sapnap knows his former friend, brother, and even if he doesn’t know Wilbur, his reputation more than precedes him: the two of them are smart, not to mention paranoid as fuck, and the rest of them have a better shot shooting targets in the dark than figuring out whatever the hell was going on in their heads with the two of them working together. Either way, he knows that they’d never been sighted apart - it was always Wilbur standing on a hill with Dream sitting next to him, or Dream hacking through mobs as Wilbur followed, or the two of them stepping into a fortress and leaving minutes after - until now.

“Could ask the same of you,” Wilbur laughs, just a shade to the left of friendly, and the moonlight scatters through the leaves and glints off his glasses. “Don’t be so tense, man! I’m just going on a walk, thought I’d enjoy the night. Didn’t see anything like this in Limbo, you know.”

Sapnap winces at the reminder, that Wilbur is here and alive in defiance of law and reason and the universe itself, but Wilbur barrels on, seeming unaware of his unease.

“Anyway - how are you doing, man? Haven’t seen you around in a while.” He leans back, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, stance loose, relaxed. “I’d ask Dream, but he’s been in prison for a bit, you know? Most of what he knows is pretty - ah, outdated, not that I tell him that.”

“What are you planning?” Sapnap snaps, grip tightening around the handle of his sword. “You and Dream. What do you want?”

“Who’s to say we want anything?” Wilbur seems to grin wider, and the expression on his face is unsettling, makes something cold slither up his spine. He shakes his head to rid himself of the feeling, half-wishing it was brighter so he could better see the other’s eyes.

“I mean-” he stutters. Because Dream always wants, he almost says, bitter and angry, that all-too-familar swell of betrayal rising in his chest at Dream, forever insatiated, forever wanting, forever looking for more more more. Because if he were to escape, and if he were to want nothing, then what did that mean for the rest of them? Because if he didn’t want, if he wasn’t left wanting, then did Sapnap ever mean anything at all? The thoughts stick to his skull like tar, words clinging to the roof of his mouth as it goes dry. Wilbur seems to stare at him, unimpressed, and he feels his face go hot.

“He’s not- he’s dangerous, you know,” Sapnap says instead of answering, because untangling the awful, knotted feelings that make up his remaining ties with Dream, half-frayed and neglected and forgotten, is more work than he can handle and more emotions than he has the energy to bear. It doesn’t matter, in the end, because Dream is still dangerous; he knows that, resolutely, and maybe it’s lucky, that he found Wilbur without Dream whispering plans and manipulations and meaningless words by his side. It’ll give him a chance to warn Wilbur, bring him back to their side instead of risking his life (again) in the company of his friend-turned-tyrant. Dream is dangerous, whether he wants or not, because Dream is Dream and he’s been in too many manhunts to face him with anything less than one hundred percent confidence. “You don’t want to be with him, Wilbur. He’s hurt- so many people.”

Wilbur’s expression doesn’t change, seeming as indifferent to the words as ever; if anything, he looks a little amused. “Really,” he hums, almost to himself. “Dangerous, you say?”

“He’s Dream,” Sapnap insists, because it’s the truth, and it’s the simplicity of it, really. It’s Dream, and Dream is dangerous whether he’s on your side or not, forever ruthless and unheeding as long as he gets what he wants. He’d been in Wilbur’s place, once, convinced that Dream’s strategies and planning and infallible logic had meant they had no way of losing. He knows better, now. “You’ve fought him before! He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about anything.”

And if the words are a little more bitter than they should be when he says that, who but he is going to notice?

Wilbur’s eyes stay on his, completely silent, expression unreadable. The quiet gets awkward quickly, Wilbur’s expression seeming unchanging, nothing but the faint rustling of the leaves around them to break the stillness of the air, and Sapnap feels his gut roll uncomfortably as he looks off to the ground, waiting for Wilbur to react in some way, any way. It’s hard, he knows, to realize that someone you thought was on your side had been using you the entire time, he’s been there before and he gets it, but- it’s still strange, how still Wilbur has become. How he still hasn’t reacted - is his expression going to change?

And suddenly, starting quiet and then swelling in volume, Wilbur begins to laugh.

“Goodness,” Wilbur drawls through his chuckles, voice low and dark and sending chills down his back. “I thought he was exaggerating, man - you really do hate him, don’t you?”

“What- what’s so funny?”

Wilbur smiles, teeth flashing white as the faint light from the moon bounces off of them, “I have to give you my thanks, truly. I’d thought that Quackity did the most of it, or Sam, but you- I really couldn’t have guessed.”

Sapnap’s head is spinning. Wilbur’s expression is positively gleeful, eyes dancing, smile wide and brilliant, bouncing from one name to another with little explanation to how any of them tie together. Sam? Quackity? Nothing is making sense. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh Sapnap,” Wilbur croons. “You really don’t know, do you?”

He twists his hand in a flippant gesture, eyes directed into the forest surrounding them.

“Let’s just say that his, ah- stay, in Pandora, wasn’t exactly what I’d call a five-star experience. But you know that, don’t you?” Wilbur directs a flat smile his way, and Sapnap swallows, throat dry. Briefly, images flash behind his eyes - walls, dripping with crying obsidian, the lava’s heat hard to bear at his back, even for him, mining fatigue pulling at his limbs and making them heavy. How startlingly bare the cell had been, even through the haze of his anger, Dream, slumped in a corner of the cell, barely moving, barely even breathing as it seemed sometimes, sunken-in cheeks and sagging shoulders speaking of nothing but a bone-deep exhaustion. “Apparently, being psychologically and physically tortured for months on end has an interesting effect on the human psyche. Even more so when, say, your best friend comes once in the entire time to tell you that he’ll kill you if you ever try to escape.”

“How-” he trips on his own words, lungs seizing, “how do you know that?”

“He tells me things. A lot of things, really. Did you know it takes one and a half regen potions to reattach an arm after it’s been cut off? It takes three and a half for a leg, he thinks, but the blood loss made it rather hard to remember.” Wilbur steps forward. “Did you know that scars created by healing potions tend to be much thicker and more prominent than those made by regens? Or that he can hold his breath for a little more than two minutes before passing out?” Wilbur smirks, jagged, threatening. “Did you know that I can tell him just about everything, and he’ll believe me because there’s no one else to tell him otherwise?”

“Wh- what?”

“I’ll be sure to tell him what you said; I’m sure he’ll love to hear how his brother is doing.” Wilbur waves. “And when you see Quackity, be sure to give him my thanks, will you?”

“Wilbur, what- come back-”

And with a flash of purple particles, Wilbur disappears, leaving Sapnap alone in the middle of the forest. Stasis chamber. His heart pounds in his ears, breathing all-too-loud, and he stares desperately at the empty space where Wilbur had stood like it’ll bring him back again.

Fuck, he swipes his hand across his face, startled when it comes back wet. What does he do now?

#tw abuse #tw torture #tw drowning #tw dismemberment #tw manipulation #tw unhealthy relationship #tw emotional distress #tw dark content #prison arc #pandora's vault #c!sapnap critical #mutually assured destruction #my asks !! #-> my asks #my writing :D #-> my writing

[russadler]

All That Remains: Chapter Two

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

A look back to happier times and a defining conversation

A/N: Hey lol once again sorry I took so long. This chapter is relatively shortish (?) because it was originally part of the next chapter, but I decided to split it since it was getting long lmao. The next chapter will actually be coming soon I promise I was like almost finished but decided to publish this section since it was done and yall need to get fed.

Also another note I guess? I refer to Russell as “Adler” even though its third person Sophie centric. I believe since they came to know each other through work, Sophie only initially heard/knew of him by his last name and will still refer to him in her mind as such. I didn’t do this much in the first chapter but I thought about it and also it felt weird calling him Russell all the time LMFAOO

August 2nd, 1980

“…I’m surprised you never had kids.” 

It’s more of a question than a statement, and an admittedly nosey one. They’re currently in the midst of a very picturesque picnic in a field of their choosing, the pair of them eating lunch while sprawled across a spare blanket pulled from the back of Russell’s car. The man in question is currently laid on his side, chewing a strawberry and peering up at her with a curiously cocked eyebrow making an appearance over the rim of his aviators. 

Sophie wriggles under the scrutiny, a blush rising to her cheeks as she redirects her eyes towards her leather boots with a timid huff. They had been together for more than enough time by now, enough time for the lustre of having Russell Adler as her boyfriend to have worn off. Yet, even all these months later, a mere glance from the man was enough to leave her flushed and stumbling over her words. 

“I’m sorry —“ She rushes to apologize, sandwich suddenly forgotten as she picks sheepishly at a loose thread on her dress. She had meant to word things a little…differently, but who was she kidding? it wasn’t her place to ask such things in the first place.

With Russell, the more you pressed him, the further away he pulled. His trust came with patience and time, a small price Sophie didn’t mind paying. There were things he held close to himself, his marriage being one of them. It was obviously a sensitive topic, or at least one he didn’t enjoy talking about. She hadn’t intended to interrogate him about the fact he didn’t have any children despite being married for a little over a decade, it was his business. Only recently had he begun sharing that part of his life with her, and it was a sign of his trust that she deeply valued.  

And here she went, utterly obliterating that carefully constructed confidence because she seemed to lack a brain-to-mouth filter.

“You’re fine, kid.”  Russell soothes, interrupting her scattered thoughts. The woman manages to to will herself to look at him again, where his enlivened grin signaling he was more amused than offended by the statement. 

He sits up, and one of his hands moves to rub at her thigh in reassurance. “I admire that you’re always pretty straight to the point.” He notes lightheartedly, subtly pacifying her current flustered state.

The woman huffs, self conscious despite the comforting words. "It gets me in trouble way too much.” She confesses, biting into her sandwich a bit too harshly. It was true. She had a terrible habit of being too honest for as long as she could remember, and it had made for some terribly awkward experiences throughout her life.

“I’d argue telling the truth is a pretty good thing to get in trouble for.” Adler remarks in return, his hand remaining on her thigh as he continues with his lunch. She could tell he was making a point of appearing relatively unconcerned about the whole thing, likely in a bid to provide her some sense of consolation. The man was leaving little room for her to feel upset at herself. 

Sophie releases a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and relaxes, shoulders loosening as she finishes the last of her sandwich. 

There’s another beat of silence, and then it occurs to her that Russell had managed yet again to wriggle his way out of talking about himself. It was a common pattern, nearly every time she attempted to make conversation that centered around him, he would artfully steer the conversation away from himself and find a way to redirect the topic towards her. 

He was annoyingly good at it, too, and she was just starting to catch on that he was doing it in the first place. 

“Wait! You didn’t answer the question!” The brunette gasps, exasperated. “You always do this!” 

“Do what?” Russell retorts, behaving as if he were completely ignorant of what was the matter. He always acted as if he didn’t know.

“You always find a way to not answer me! Every time you change the subject and then hope I forget!” The woman laughs, failing miserably in her attempt to come across as annoyed. His behavior was maddening, but Sophie often found she was less irritated and more awestruck that the man was so artful at playing people. 

“I’d never do that, you’re just making things up.” Russell quips, mouth twisted with a lopsided smile as he continues the playful banter. “I love talking about myself, actually. Could do it all day.” 

Adler just keeps smirking, stuffing a strawberry into his mouth as he does. The younger rolls her eyes, because as much as she loved him, the man could seriously be a pain. “You don’t actually have to answer the question if you don’t want to. ” She adds, humor now absent from her voice as she quietly rearranges the bundle of wildflowers she had picked.

“I said it was fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.” Russell tells her again, his voice calm and even as he continues to rub circles into her skin. There’s a brief pause, and suddenly the hand on her thigh stops moving. “Wait, do you want kids? Is this your way of asking?” He asks, his head suddenly shifting to level her with a steely gaze. Despite the presence of the aviators on his face, she can feel the intensity of his stare. The man’s demeanor had grown suddenly serious, alert even.

“No! I mean…kids are nice and all and I don’t mind them…but I’m not really dead set on having them.” She explains, her own hand darting to grasp Russell’s larger one. From one moment to the next, it had suddenly become her turn to offer reassurance. “In all honesty, I feel I’d quite rather do without them, really.” She returns the man’s heavy gaze with one of her own, both in search of his reaction and in the hopes of communicating her honesty. "I was just…curious.” She admits shyly.

It was the truth, she wasn’t one of those girls whose ultimate life goal was of being a housewife with the white picket fence, apple pies, and endless kids. There was nothing wrong with that ideal per say, but it wasn’t something she saw herself wanting. 

The woman wasn’t really looking to make children a part of her life. If it happened, it happened, but she could go without them and feel just fine about it. 

Russell, on his part, seemed relieved. Accepting her answer with a nod, his gaze moves towards the sky above as he gives her hand a short squeeze.

Then to her complete surprise, he decides to answer the question anyways. Sophie turns to look at the taller as he begins to speak, shifting to lay on her left side and face him as he leaned back on his hands. 

“Well...there’s a lot of reasons, really. First, my job.” Adler then pauses to spare her a brief glance, as if to ensure she understood what he was attempting to convey. It was no secret that Russell was often away, leaving her for weeks and sometimes months on end. She was never allowed to have any hint of what he was doing or even where he was going, all that she could know was that his work was very important and very dangerous. 

Sometimes she found herself sitting at home and just hoping he was still alive. Confirmation that he was okay only came when he either called her to say he was coming home (which was rare) or until he appeared out of the blue. It wasn’t a feeling she liked having, and a sentiment Russell hated subjecting her to.  

It was just the way it was, the way it had to be. Their relationship would always come second to work, Adler had made that very clear from the start. She was either in or out, and he made sure that she knew the price that she would be paying in being with him.

Russell sighs, the exhale sounding deep and tired before he continues. “It would be unfair to do that to a kid, they wouldn’t understand why their dad was away all the time...And it would have been unfair to my ex, she would have had to essentially raise them all on her own.” 

Sophie nods silently in understanding, the living scenario was on she had come to understand personally. The periods of absence would be difficult on both mother and child for various reasons, and it was good that the couple had weighed the risks.

“Some of the guys at work are okay with that, and have wives that were okay with that, but for us..?” He continues, voice even as he grasps one of the flowers she had stuffed into the picnic basket and begins rolling the stem between his thumb and pointer finger. “We didn’t want kids that bad. We were okay, just it being the two of us.”

“You both ended up going your separate ways, too. I could imagine if you had kids that would have been a nightmare.” She adds, a relatively astute observation but one that she felt was worth mentioning. They had made the right choice after all, it had seemed. 

“God, I’m thankful we didn’t for that reason especially.” Russell replies with audible relief, thankful that children hadn’t been something to consider in their subsequent divorce. 

There’s a moment of silence, and she thinks he’s finished speaking, especially seeing that he officially answered her question. 

But then he sits up properly, clearing his throat before speaking once more. “And all these years later my feelings about it are the same and I don’t regret it.” He tells her, sounding confident and assured as he rips most of the stem away from the main portion of the flower with a powerful yank. “Even if I wanted them now, I’m a bit too old to be a dad. So that ship has long sailed.” 

Sophie nods. Russell was a man of very few regrets, and his sense of judgement was one she had come to trust wholeheartedly. He turns to her, an arm reaching out to tuck a few locks of her hair out of the way before placing the remainder of the flower behind her ear. 

The woman smiles so hard her cheeks ache. Russell Adler was a romantic, despite the fact he vehemently denies it. It was true and no one was going to believe her ever. “I don’t think you really missed out, everyone I know who has kids just complains about them.” She states, still smiling.

The taller’s chest rumbles with a chuckle. Having carefully maneuvering the food out of the way, he then wraps an arm around her shoulders, he pulls her down to lay at his side as she lets out a surprised squeak. “Have we been talking to the same people?” He asks. 

“If one of them is named Jason Hudson, then yes.”

Russell laughs then, and it’s music to her ears.

#get into it yuh #anyways next chapter we got some DRAMAAAA #russell adler #russell adler x oc #russell adler fanfic #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #black ops cold war #bocw #black ops cold war fanfic #bocw fanfic #mine #my writing #all that remains #also if u see any errors...no u didnt

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

if this was a dream pt. 3

i want to apologize in advance because this is literally like 4 chapters in a trench coat... i'm serious chapter 1 was just over 1000 words and this is over 4000, I have no idea what happened. the reason I didn't break it up is because it is very alastair-centric. I promise next chapter we will get back to thomas and see how he's doing with the actual amnesia part of it all.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Fanfiction Masterlist | AO3

Alastair pulled his coat tightly around himself, trying to keep his breathing steady. The walk from the Institute to Cornwall Gardens was long, but it would give him far more time to clear his head than borrowing a carriage or hailing a hansom cab. He fell into the rhythm of his footsteps; this was familiar to him. He had spent more hours than he could count just walking and walking, trying to run from this life the universe had given him. 

Now, though, even his walking was infected by Thomas. 

Sometimes, I simply needed to get away from all of the hovering. There was this bit of forest near our house in Idris… it was nice, peaceful. The perfect escape, somewhere to wander until I was too spent to continue. Drove my parents a bit mad, but it was what I needed. 

Alastair told him about the woods around Cirenworth, how it was his escape, too. He’d memorized nearly every corner of that forest over the years. It was somewhere where he could pretend to be someone, anyone else. He could be no one, even. He’d left most of the details out, as he often did when discussing his childhood. He trusted Thomas completely, but there were some things he preferred to leave in the past. 

Now, his sleepless body ached against the increasing pace of his footsteps, pushing forward as if moving quickly enough could outrun the tears burning behind his eyes. He did not know if he could do this again. If Thomas never regained his memories, could Alastair convince him to forgive him again? Their original circumstances were quite peculiar. Could Alastair survive trying to gain his forgiveness again? 

He’d do anything for Thomas, he knew. He loved him, even if he’d never said it out loud. And as he said it now, even in the safety of his own mind, it felt far different than it ever did with Charles on the receiving end. With Charles, love felt strangling. It was shackles to his ankles and wrists, tying him to his misery. Looking back, it was not love at all. With Thomas, he felt free. Thomas made the impossible feel possible. 

It isn’t possible. It won’t ever be.

He heard his own words repeated back to him. He knew where this was headed from the start. This is how it all works out for Alastair Carstairs. He knew this time would be no different, even if he hoped it would. 

He loathed this feeling inside of him. He’d been doing well. He’d been happy. Now all he could think of were his own self-doubts, his own self-hatred, his age-old desire to run away to the farthest stretches of the Earth in the middle of the night, never to return. 

A better partner, a better person would not be so consumed in these thoughts as he was. A better partner would not be the recipient of such hatred from the man he loved at all, memories or not. A better partner would know what to do, how to ease the pain and anxiety that flooded Thomas’ eyes rather than exacerbate them. He was not better, however. He could never be what Thomas deserved. He knew it from the start, but it felt different, being thrown in his face now. 

Perhaps it would be better this way, he thought, for it to end like this. It was going to end eventually, as all things do. Perhaps this way would hurt Thomas less, even if Alastair would always wonder what could have happened if he’d tried a little harder, if he’d been a little less horrible, if he’d been a little bit stronger, a bit braver.

He was being ridiculous, he knew. Thomas merely needed time. He’d just woken up from his injury, six months displaced, no less. He was grieving his sister again, even more than before. Alastair wanted to ease Thomas’ pain, but he could not, and thus, Thomas needed time and space and he would give it to him. 

Before he realized it, he had returned to his home. He could not remember most of the walk, his feet guiding him through the city he now knew a bit too well as his mind wandered to a place he couldn’t quite reach with his consciousness. 

He slowly unlocked the door and sighed as he hung his coat. Cordelia started quickly down the stairs but froze as her expression fell when she saw the look on his face. 

Realizing what she must be thinking, Alastair quickly shook his head. “He’s alright. He woke up. He simply… appears to be missing about the past six months of memory.” 

Cordelia frowned, her face softening as she continued down the stairs and embraced her brother. “Oh, dâdash. Are you alright?” 

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? Thomas is alive and awake. He just hates me.” 

She sighed. “He doesn’t hate you. I don’t think he ever truly did.” 

He shook his head. “He thinks he does. Or he wants to. What’s it matter?” 

“Take a seat, dâdash. We just made tea, I’ll bring some out.” Before he could protest, she left for the kitchen. 

He settled into one of the armchairs. When Cordelia returned, she took the one beside his and began to pour tea for each of them. “You two will work your way through this, you know. Whatever happens.” 

“How can you be so sure?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Are you joking? I don’t think I’ve ever met two people better matched. It’s as if you share the same soul or something.” 

He gritted his teeth. “Most would say we’re opposites.” 

“You act like opposites. Believe it or not, though, behaving grumpy or cheerful are not personality traits. In all the ways that matter, you’re two halves of one whole. It makes me utterly green with envy sometimes, seeing the two of you together, the way that you understand each other so completely. 

“I love James, of course, with my whole being. But if I’m being honest, for a long time I thought that the reason I liked him was because he reminded me of Father, all introverted and bookish and such. Now, I’m merely trying to decipher what was real and what was not, what parts of me are genuine and which ones are simply who I thought I needed to be to please him. James, too, is finding himself again after all that happened with Grace. Sometimes, it feels as though we’re two clueless children stumbling around with no sense of self, for some reason placed in this big house with adult responsibilities. It’s an utter mess sometimes, though every moment is worth it. 

“Yet you… somehow, despite everything, despite all of the odds stacked against you, despite so much pain and fear, you found yourself and your soulmate all in one person. It’s what you deserve, dâdash, what you both deserve. You will find a way.” 

He did not quite believe her, but he would not argue. 

“Are you going to be alright?” she asked, cocking her head. 

He nodded and then paused for a moment. “I don’t know how I’ll explain this to Mâmân.” Despite all the trouble it’s caused, she still did not know the truth about his time in school. 

“I could, if you’d like?” Cordelia offered. 

He sighed. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to keep the entire matter out of his own hands. He shook his head. “It’s time I did, I think.” 

She gave him a bit of a frown but nodded. “If you’re sure.” 

“I’m tired of lying. I spent enough time keeping secrets when Father was alive.” He stood from the chair. 

“I’m here if you need me.” 

He started up the staircase, mustering up a more positive expression as to not worry his mother too much before he could get the words out. He found her in her bedroom, resting in an armchair a few feet away from Rostam’s bassinet. He approached his baby brother first, giving him a small smile though he was fast asleep. It could have been his mind playing tricks on him, but he was certain Rostam was bigger than he’d been just a few days ago. 

“He just fell asleep,” his mother said softly. He turned to her. Her eyes looked tired, though no more tired than they had a few days earlier, and certainly no more tired than his own. “Come, azizam, what are you doing home? Did something happen?”

Alastair shook his head. “Thomas is awake; he’s alright.” 

“Why aren’t you with him?” she asked after a small stretch of silence. 

“He… He has amnesia. He doesn’t remember anything past last summer. It’s best if I keep my distance for a bit.” 

His mother gave him a small smile. “It’ll be okay, Alastair joon. He’ll understand given a bit of time.” 

Alastair didn’t look at her. “Maybe. I don’t know. He… he’s quite angry with me. The original circumstances under which he forgave me were fairly bizarre to begin with.” 

“Forgive you for what, dear? What could possibly be so terrible that he would not forgive you?” 

He sighed. He knew he could not avoid this conversation any longer. “I… It was something that happened at school.” He paused for a moment. “I know you think that I got on well with everyone at the Academy, but… That isn’t the truth. When I first arrived, all of the other boys could tell that I was an easy target. I was smaller than them, and… there were rumors. After a while, I just couldn’t bear it any longer. I… I was always quite good with words, as you know. I learned that using them to cut down others would get me a good laugh, and as long as the other boys were laughing they weren’t…” He trailed off. How was he meant to tell his mother this? “It took the attention off of me.” 

“By the time James and Thomas and their friends arrived the next year, I was so angry, at everyone and everything… I was so jealous of them. They had…” Picture perfect families, he wanted to say, though he could not. “They had these perfect lives, or at least they appeared that way to me. They never had to worry about attracting the wrong attention on the street or being humiliated because their families couldn’t afford to hire private tutors. They never had to worry about anything but growing up.” 

“Alastair…” his mother started. “I know we never discussed things of this nature. It’s alright that you were angry. They benefited from society in ways that rejected you merely by circumstances of birth. But that wasn’t their fault.” 

“I know. I know that now, now that I’m older. I know that my anger was misplaced. But when I was in school, society was too big. I only saw what was in front of me. I thought that if I must be cruel to someone, it should be to them. I said terrible, dreadful things about them and their families, things that should never be repeated. They did nothing to deserve the way I treated them. Thomas was kind to me, one of the only people who was ever kind to me in my two years there, and yet I still slandered his family. Last summer, he learned of the things I had said when he was not listening. That is what he remembers now.” 

There was a long stretch of silence. Alastair would not look his mother in the eyes. “I always knew that you had a hard time at school, Alastair,” she said finally. “Your lies were never too convincing. I could see how you’d changed. I… I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry.” 

He knew it, too. He knew how his parents had spoken about him in those years, lamenting about what a miserable and difficult teenager he’d grown into when he and his sister were not in the room. He also knew how his father only ever seemed to care about Alastair’s destructive behavior when his mother began to pester him about his drinking. 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“The world was cruel to you, and I could not protect you from it, but I should have tried. You were a child, my child, I am your mother, and I was meant to protect you, but I did not. Not just from the world, but from… your father, I know. Be kind to yourself, azizam. Regardless of what cruel things you did while trying to balance the weight of the world on small shoulders, it seems to me that those you hurt have forgiven you. You simply have not forgiven yourself.” 

“Perhaps they shouldn’t have. Perhaps I never deserved their forgiveness in the first place.” 

Sona sighed. “Forgiveness is not deserved, Alastair. We forgive for our own wellbeing, so that we can let go and move on. If you will not fight for Thomas on your own behalf, fight on his. He deserves to forgive you, to heal from these wounds of the past. He deserves to be loved by you.” 

Alastair didn’t respond. 

“It pains me to see you like this. You deserve to forgive, too. You deserve to forgive yourself and all who have caused you pain. You deserve to be free of it. As long as you keep such a tight grip on it all, you will only continue to destroy yourself, and as long as you continue to destroy yourself, you will hurt those who love you as well. Please-” she cut herself off, her voice breaking. Her voice trembled as she began again, and he realized for a striking moment that he had never seen her this vulnerable before. He’d witnessed her pain after Elias’ death, and he’d caught glimpses of her sorrow before it, but she’d always kept her truest self tightly locked. “Please, my love, promise me that you’ll try. You can start with me.” 

He looked up at her abruptly, startled. He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could find the words, she’d stood and crossed the few feet between them. 

She took his hands in hers. Seeing the pain in her eyes, he wanted desperately to look away but he could not. “Please, forgive me. Forgive me for all of the ways that I’ve failed you. You were too young for the burdens I placed upon you. I never should have allowed you to take on that responsibility. Please, forgive me for all of the times I overlooked your pain because I was distracted by my own. I am so sorry, Alastair, for each and every time I hurt you and dismissed you. I did the best with what I had, but if I could go back in time and teach myself to be a little stronger, a little braver, to be a better mother than I was, I would do it in a heartbeat, but I can’t. All I can do is promise to try to be a better mother, not just to your brother, but to you as well. If it’s not too late.” Careful tears streamed down her cheeks, rare as they were. 

He shook his head, feeling his own tears spill. He fell into her embrace, holding her tightly, as he had not done since he was a small child. “I forgive you,” he said softly, and he meant it. 

They stood for a long while, holding each other, taking comfort in each other and the silence. Until Rostam began to cry. They pulled away from each other awkwardly. 

“I should… get some rest,” Alastair said, trying to pull himself together. He realized suddenly that he had no idea what time it was or when he’d last slept or eaten. 

Sona nodded. “Of course. I love you, Alastair. I’m so proud of the man you’ve become. I’m sorry that you and Thomas are struggling right now, but I know that you two are strong and resilient. With a bit of time and healing, this will pass.” 

He nodded, unable to respond without breaking down again. 

He returned to his bedroom to the sound of his mother soothing his newborn brother. Shutting his door behind him, he felt the exhaustion of the past several days settled deep into his bones. With heavy movements, he changed into clean clothes, leaving the old ones in a heap on the floor. Typically, he would be horrified at the thought of anything in his room so out of place, but he could not find the energy within himself to care.

He collapsed into his bed, drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep, repeating his mothers words back to himself in his mind. If only forgiving himself would come as easily as forgiving her. 

* * *

The next two days passed as a blur. He’d slept heavily the first night. Cordelia had reportedly attempted to wake him for dinner, but settled on bringing a bit of food to his bedroom instead. 

The next day passed a bit more normally, though Alastair still felt quite scattered. He’d appeared well-enough put together, however, for Cordelia to feel comfortable going home, so he supposed that was a good sign. Kamala had come for a visit, too, though he wasn’t much in the mood for talking, and they wound up just giving Rostam a bath and discussing Kamala’s latest read. 

The day after that had slowly begun to feel more normal, more balanced. Until Gideon Lightwood arrived at his door. 

Alastair stared at him for a moment before regaining his composure. He began to call him Mr. Lightwood before stopping himself. It still felt a bit odd to call him by his given name. “Gideon, hello. What are you doing here? Did something happen?” 

“No, no,” he said quickly. “Everything’s fine. Thomas is doing well; he’s feeling much better, though no significant improvements to his memory.” 

Alastair nodded. “That’s good. That he’s feeling better, I mean.” 

“I came here to check on you, actually.” 

“Oh.” He paused. “You didn’t need to do that.” 

“I wanted to. Well, we all did, Sophie, Eugenia, and I, but I was the most persuasive.” He smiled as he spoke, as if smug at the accomplishment of being delegated the one to come visit him. 

“Right, er, come in,” he gestured for Gideon to enter and take a seat in the sitting room. “You’re in luck; my mother just made tea if you’d like some.” 

He nodded. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you.” 

Alastair returned a few moments later and began pouring tea. “It was very kind of you to come, but I’m truly alright. Just worried about Thomas is all.” 

Gideon nodded. “Of course. As I said, he’s doing well, or as well as can be expected under the circumstances. I know it is difficult for him, feeling so disconnected. Regardless of the brave face he puts on. It’s frustrating for him, as if we’ve all got some sort of inside joke that he isn’t in on.” 

He could imagine it: the quick glances, the brief answers to Thomas’ many questions. He was certain it was driving him mad. “I wish there was something I could do to help.” 

Gideon gave him a small smile. “Because he’s feeling better, his friends are coming by today to attempt to fill him in on the time that he’s missing. I’m certain there will be gaps, though. Perhaps afterwards he will be more open to speaking with you.” 

Alastair didn’t know how to tell him that he wasn’t so sure Thomas’ friends would be singing his praises. 

“You should stop by the Institute tomorrow if you’re free,” Gideon offered. 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” 

“It’s up to Thomas, of course, if he would like to see you, but if nothing else I know that Sophie and Eugenia would love for you to come by.” 

Alastair didn’t respond for a long moment. He’d spent these past couple of days mainly sleeping and caring for his brother, but also ruminating over his conversation with his mother. He began to make a mental list, both of the things he felt he had not forgiven himself for and the things he had not forgiven others for. Before he knew it, the list was distressingly lengthy. He had no idea where to even begin. Perhaps if he could put this one mistake behind him, whatever that meant, the rest would seem less overwhelming. 

He knew that he would never forgive himself for how he hurt Thomas’ family as long as the terrible things he’d done went unspoken. Perhaps that was why he never brought it up. “Did Thomas ever tell you why he was angry with me?” 

Gideon narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Something that happened back at school, wasn’t it?” 

Alastair nodded. He memorized the way Gideon looked at him now, prepared to only be looked upon with hatred in a few moments. He exhaled and looked down, too cowardly to watch the expression change. “I said things… horrible things about your family. About your wife and about Thomas and about Henry Fairchild, but mainly about you, the Consul, and Matthew. There were rumours going around that he was your child, and I repeated them to him. I repeated them after, too. I have reasons for the way I behaved at school, but I have no reasons for that. I was simply angry. Matthew and I were both terrible to each other, and I was so angry for so many reasons. I did not think of the consequences of my words. I am so, so sorry. I am so sorry for the role I played in causing your family such pain.” 

“It’s okay,” Gideon replied gently. Alastair looked up in surprise to see not a hint of the hatred he was expecting. Seeing the confused look on his face, he continued. “Obviously, I’m not happy that you said cruel things about my loved ones, but it was a long time ago, and I would be a hypocrite to not recognize a man who regrets his mistakes and has learned from them. You make my son happy, Alastair. That more than makes up for anything you might’ve said when you were younger, in my eyes.” He flashed him a smile and gave an exaggerated sigh. “Here I was, worried that you’d killed someone or something.” 

“Well, I’ve also done that, but it’s not what Thomas is angry about.” 

Gideon stared at him, clearly unsure over whether or not he was serious. 

“Joking,” he said quickly. “...kind of.” 

He looked back at him hesitantly. “Do you… want to talk about it?” 

“Ha, no. Not today.” His guilt surrounding the deaths of Clive Cartwright and his father would need to be addressed another time. 

“Right,” Gideon responded. “Thank you for telling me this, Alastair. I appreciate your honesty. I only have one question, why did you not say anything about this before? It was clearly bothering you. Did you fear we would reject you?” 

“I…” That seemed like the logical answer, wasn’t it? Yet he knew it was not the correct one. “I think that perhaps it was the opposite. I was just so ashamed… and I knew that as long as I held on to that, I would never allow myself to truly get too close. I know how horrible that sounds, and I know it hurt Thomas, too, but for some reason that,” he gestured vaguely with his hands, “was scarier than anything else. I’m sorry, I know that doesn’t make sense-” 

“It does. I understand, Alastair, even if I don’t like that you felt you had to do that. I know the past couple of months have been complicated for you, though in many ways less complicated than the years before. It will always be your choice, but know that there will always be a place for you in my life, whether you and Thomas are together or not. But I will not ever blame you for anything you feel you are not able to do.”

Alastair nodded, feeling a soreness at the back of this throat that indicated impending tears. 

“You should stop by tomorrow and visit us. It’s up to you, but I think that it would be helpful for you to speak with Sophie, too. I will not repeat anything to her, lest you decide not to. I do think it would be somewhat of a relief, though. We thought that the reason you were so distant was because you disliked us.” 

“What?” He silently cursed the pain in his voice. 

“Joking,” Gideon teased with a chuckle. “Kind of.” 

Alastair exhaled, feeling a bit of the tension release, and gave him half of an eye roll. 

“Please, tell me honestly, Alastair, are you doing alright?” 

He nodded in response, finally feeling it to be true. 

“I shall take my leave then. The tea was truly lovely, by the way. You must pass my thanks unto your mother.” 

“I will.” 

“See you tomorrow, then?” 

“Tomorrow,” Alastair responded before he could stop himself. He stood to see him out, but was surprised when Gideon met him with a hug goodbye. 

“Thank you for chatting with me.” 

“Thank you for… checking in.” 

Gideon smiled at him and donned his coat and hat. Alastair watched him as he departed, feeling more at peace now than he had in quite a while.

thanks so much for reading! taglist (reply, ask, or message to be added/removed): @stxr-thxif @satanisanauthor @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @kamalajcshi @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid

#if this was a dream fic #alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #thomastair #tlh #the last hours #fanfiction #fanfic #chain of iron spoilers #chain of iron #coi spoilers #coi

[heliads]

Connections Chapter 2: Closer

The plan is simple- if Peter Maximoff wants to get closer to his father, he needs to get closer to the girl Erik’s taken on as a trainee of sorts. He won’t be any more involved with her than that, right?

previous / series masterlist / next

Get close with Y/N, and you get close to your father. That’s all Peter had to do, right? Surely it would be pretty easy.

The first opportunity to do so occurs in training class. The young X-Men are all arrayed in the training room, and Logan announces that they’ll need partners for some sparring drill he probably thought up seconds before class started. 

Peter notices a slight glint of panic in Y/N’s eyes at Logan’s words- she’s barely been at the school for a few days. She doesn’t know that many people, and many more still fear her for working with Apocalypse. So, Peter takes matters into his own hands and strides casually over to Y/N. Logan walks by, and looks around at Y/N and the few other mutants in the vicinity.

“So, who’s your partner?” Peter raises his hand. “Me. That’s me. We are, uh, partners.” Logan raises his eyebrow, but walks away after Y/N nods slowly. After he leaves, Y/N looks back at Peter. “Why’d you do that?” Peter just shrugs. “I remember what it felt like when I first started going here. Besides, if I had to work with Scott again I’d probably lose my mind. He just stares at Jean the whole time.” Y/N stifles a laugh, and just like that, Peter’s plan is set into motion.

A while later, Peter is restless. It’s a hot, quiet night, and Peter can’t seem to close his eyes for longer than a second. One of the perks of moving as fast as he does is that he doesn’t need to sleep that long, but it’s certainly not a benefit now. Peter doesn’t feel tired at all, and he can’t sleep a wink, not even to pass the time.

Eventually, Peter can’t stand it and he gets out of bed, quietly closing the door behind him before taking off. Once he stops moving, Peter finds himself outside, under the gently swaying branches of a large oak tree. He sighs quietly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Out of the otherwise silent night, Peter hears a sudden noise behind him. He turns to see Y/N’s startled face behind him. Peter’s eyes widen. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t see you there. Didn’t mean to surprise you.” At a closer look, Peter’s stomach twists inwardly when he realizes that Y/N’s eyes are puffy and slightly red- she’s been crying. Y/N smiles shyly. “It’s fine. I just thought I was the only one awake at this time of night.”

Peter looks at her quietly. “Do you want to talk about anything? I mean, I know that’s kind of forward of me because we just met and all, but do you?” Y/N glances at him. “It’s fine, actually. I know I’ve been crying- I just keep having these nightmares about my family, the night they died. Every time I close my eyes, I see them blaming me for their death. They died right in front of me, and I feel like I should have done something.”

Peter puts a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. I know it feels hard to hear, but some things can’t be avoided. If there was something you could have done to stop their deaths, I bet you would have done it, or at least known something to do. It’s not your fault that they died.” Y/N laughs bitterly. “I just wish I could convince myself of that.”

She looks at him curiously. “Why are you doing this?” Peter knits his eyebrows, confused. “Doing what?” Does she know about his plan? Y/N sighs. “Why are you being so nice to me? Everyone here thinks I’m still some agent of Apocalypse, but yet here you are, hearing me out and helping me in class that other day. Why bother?” 

Peter grins. “I guess I’m just a naturally caring guy. I”m sure all of my friends would agree. Mainly, I suppose I just felt as one of the X-Men the other kids kinda look up to me, in a way. I figured that if I was nice to you, they’d trust you again. Although I have to say, Agent of Apocalypse is a pretty cool sounding name, so if you want me to hate you so you can call yourself that I totally understand.”

Y/N laughs again. “I appreciate your willingness to act on my villain plans, but I don’t think that’s necessary.” She yawns, and then checks her watch. “I think I’m going to head to bed.” She walks a few steps away, and then turns back to face him one last time. “Oh, and Peter? Thank you.”

After that night, Y/N and Peter grow closer and closer. They become fast friends, and Peter realizes that even without the need to have connections to his father, Peter truly enjoys Y/N’s company and is glad he has her as a friend. That being said, this plan of being friends with Y/N to have a link to his father is definitely paying off. When Y/N and Peter are studying, Erik often drops by or shares advice as to how best control their powers.

Peter is now closer to his father than he had thought possible. Even at the beginning, a little voice in the back of his mind had told Peter that this wouldn’t work, that Erik wouldn’t be that interested in him even if he was friends with Y/N. However, Erik still comes over and talks to Peter even if Y/N isn’t there. It’s worth it, it’s all worth it.

Gradually, Peter notices that there’s something different about Y/N. He can’t find a name for it, but it’s like he’s noticing things about her that he never noticed before. There’s a gleam in her eyes when she talks about something she’s especially passionate about. There’s the toss of her head when she wins an argument, and the joking roll of her eyes when she loses. There’s the happy sigh whenever she feels the morning sun light up her face, and the way she tilts her head back late at night, watching the stars.

He doesn’t know why he’s thinking about this, or why he cares so much. Shaking his head, Peter returns back to everyday life. He’s in the middle of lunch, sitting by his friends. They’re swapping stories about classes and other mutants that bring a light, bubbly atmosphere to the afternoon.

Peter realizes out of the corner of his eye that Jean is staring at him, amused. He turns to her. “What, did you say something?” Jean just shakes her head, but she’s got the grin of a cat that just ate the finest canary in the world. Peter narrows his eyes. “What is it, Jean?” The telepath smirks. “I can’t believe it. After all of your self-centric days, you’re finally interested in someone other than yourself.”

Peter glares at her. “What are you talking about? Also, rude.” Jean leans forward with the air of someone about to bestow the highest truth upon an ignorant follower. “You’re absolutely in love with Y/N L/N.” Peter scoffs. “That’s ridiculous. Of course I don’t. We’re just friends.” Jean laughs. “That’s funny- I don’t remember you spending this much time thinking about your other friends. She must be your best friend to be occupying this much of your thoughts.”

Peter swats her shoulder. “Uh, last time I checked unconsented mind readings were frowned upon. Also, I’m just thinking about her in a respectful, friendly way. All friends do that.” Jean’s smirk is impossible to bear. “I’m sure you do. Just wondering- were you going to figure that out on your own or did you realize you loved her just now?”

Jean has to lean quickly away to dodge Peter lunging at her, and she collapses in a fit of laughter. The two of them pretend to fight for a while, but after lunch ends, Peter’s mind dissolves into a rush of thoughts flying through his head.

Does he really love Y/N? Across the grassy courtyard, Peter catches sight of her. She’s talking to one of her new friends with a positivity that lights up the whole yard. Y/N catches sight of him, and waves happily. The beaming smile across her face is infectious, and Peter finds himself smiling too before he realizes it.

He walks away, headed towards some distant corner of the courtyard. He strides over to his favorite place to be alone, a cracked stone fountain where no one else goes. He leans over the stone fountain, staring at the distorted reflection of his face in the water.

He does love her, doesn’t he. Yes, he does. Peter’s not sure why it’s taken him so long to realize it, but he is absolutely in love with her. Jean was right. Peter’s knuckles tighten around the stone edge of the fountain.

He speaks to himself in a low tone, trying to convince himself of what he says. “You’re not in love with her. You don’t need her. Y/N is nothing to you. You only talked to her so you could get to know Erik.”

Behind him, there’s a quiet sound, like a startled breath caught in someone’s chest. Peter’s head whips around, and he’s filled with horror as he realizes that Y/N is standing behind him, and she has heard every word of what he just said.

“Y/N, it’s not like that- I was just talking to myself- I didn’t mean it-” Y/N’s eyes are already stony and cold, and she’s putting on a brave face to hide the tears already bubbling up. “You know, you really had me fooled. I loved you, Peter. I thought you cared about me. All of this was for what, to get to know your dad?” She continues despite Peter’s shocked expression.

“Yes, I know. Mystique told me. I can’t believe I didn’t see it. Of course you wouldn’t want me for anything else but to get to him.” Peter can’t find his voice to defend himself or call Y/N back to him, but it doesn’t matter- Y/N’s already turning away from him.

“Don’t talk to me again. I loved you, Peter. Why would you do this?” Peter finally opens his mouth to speak, but it’s too late. Y/N is already walking away from him, moving quickly to hide the tears that she’s kept at bay for far too long.

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff imagine #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagines #quicksilver #quicksilver imagine #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver imagines #xmen #xmen imagines #peter maximoff series #quicksilver series #xmen series #magneto

[nomazee]

Komorebi (6)

komorebi, final.

synopsis: Tsukishima dislikes the amount of parallels there are with you and Hinata. He dislikes the way you’re so energetic and exuberant when you want to be, and the way you can get along so well with people. He dislikes the way that people are naturally drawn to you, and the way you’re so willing to put time into your dumb gifts and snacks and treats for a team of boys you barely know. But Tsukishima does not dislike you. And he supposes that’s part of the problem.

series content: developing relationship, (sort of) ooc tsukishima, strangers to (sort of) friends to lovers, angst, fluff, slow burn

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six

(the final part!! i don’t wanna ramble too much for right now so all of my final thoughts will be at the end! 

love yall :) )

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽ 

Just like that, Tsukishima is back to square one. 

The world goes silent for a few days. He hates to admit that he’s losing sleep over you, but at this point he’s too far gone to care what anyone thinks about him. Except for you--and while he knows that assuming things is bad, he can only conclude by the way you looked so scared of him before, that you do not think he’s a good person. 

(The gifts you gave him nearly contradict that assumption. But he ignores those for the most part. The scarf you gave him a while ago rests on a chair in his room and more often than not he finds himself staring at it during the deep hours of the night. He hasn’t worn it yet.)

Yamaguchi keeps giving him glances during class--not that that’s any different from before, but it irks him more now that he’s actually seen you. The blonde wonders if his friend knew about you, knew that you were going to drop something off in that moment and just never thought to warn him. Maybe you two were plotting that together, like an odd sort of revenge tactic. 

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know a lot of things. What he does know is that he’s tired, and he misses you, and he wants to be warm again. 

The morning is cold when we wakes up. He wasn’t really sleeping--it was one of those nights of a daze of exhaustion where he kept blinking himself awake. At five-thirty AM, he sighs, staring at the blank, matte wall of his ceiling. Tsukishima wills himself to crawl out of his bed and get ready for school. It’s still dark outside, the flames of daylight creeping up on the horizon while he steps around his room. 

He’s ready to leave by six. His mother is awake, sitting in the kitchen sipping hot tea and scrolling through her cellphone. She catches a glimpse of her son walking through the front door--Tsukishima feels her pensive gaze on him but refuses to say anything, just like always. 

The air is cold. Despite the long-sleeved uniform he’s wearing, Tsukishima feels ill-prepared to face the day, in more than one way. Nevertheless, he lets go of his reluctance at the door and trudges onward in the frigid air, nose flushed with red and cheeks going numb in a matter of seconds. 

(The scarf is in his bag now rather than his desk chair, hidden beneath his books and folders and pencils. He wants to wear it, knows he should, but his guilty conscious tells him to leave it unworn for now.) 

The walk passes by quickly, far too quickly for his comfort. Before Tsukishima knows it, he’s faced with the front doors of the very school he dreads to enter. 

His fingers tingle with numbness as he pulls at the metal handles of the door. The school is quiet, empty for the most part. The faint shuffle of teachers in their classrooms echoes throughout the halls as his feet lead him to Class 1-4. 

There’s a faint pitter-patter of footsteps from inside the classroom. Tsukishima passes it off as one of his teachers, again, but the sight he’s met with when he walks through the doorway gives him a disturbing sense of deja vu. 

You’re there, at his desk--the same bracelet from a few days ago resting on top of a box that  you seem to have just placed on his desk. You blink up at him owlishly. He can only return the gesture, dumbstruck as he is. 

It’s too reminiscent of the events from a few days ago. Once again, his eyes are prickling with stinging pain and his throat dries up. 

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to do.

What does he know, he wonders. He knows he hates crying. It’s unfortunate that that’s the only thing he seems capable of doing. 

It’s all overwhelming for him. The cold of the outside lingering on his skin, the sheets of sunlight pouring through the window as the sun rises, your eyes, your sheer presence in front of him. It piles on his shoulder and soon he feels liquid heat pouring down his cheeks. 

Tsukishima Kei is crying. In front of you, in a classroom, watching you grip the box in your hands and stare at him, unmoving. 

His throat hurts. He tries to choke down any audible sobs, but loud, ugly sniffles echo throughout the room. He wants to fall through the floor, squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to look at you. He can’t bear to know that you find him pathetic, even more so than he already seemed in the last few weeks. 

Distantly, he recognizes the sound of footsteps coming closer to him but tunes them out in hopes that he’s just imagining them. A hand finds its way to his shoulder--it’s warm, and he flinches. He knows it’s yours, knows by the heat of it and the comfort he feels from a simple touch. It’s the first time he’s felt your touch, but he feels so light now--so warm and comfortable and cloudy. 

“Kei.” It’s your voice. It swims through the air and into his ears, sobs only increasing in severity at the sound of his first name on your lips. Your other hand comes to rest on his cheek, both sets of fingers gently brushing away the pouring stream. 

Fond. Tsukishima Kei is very fond of the feeling of your skin on his. He hopes he can become well-acquainted with it, if he tries hard enough. 

“Kei, it’s okay.” You’re so soft, voice low and lacking any hostility he expected you to have. Your thumbs pat at his under eyes, soaking up the wetness that pools. 

“Can you look at me?” He’s stubborn, hand coming up to grip your wrist and lips clamped tightly shut to reduce the shiver of his entire body as he weeps. A gentle shake of his head makes you sigh--he knows the way he’s acting is so uncharacteristic but he can’t help it. Not with the feel of your hands on his face, your voice, the sound of his first name spoken by you still ringing in his ears. 

“It’s okay. It’s alright. I’m here.” 

You are here. It seems impossible to him, but you’re here. With him. With your hands giving him warmth and comfort and fondness. Everything he ever wanted. 

His eyes blink open. Tsukishima Kei looks at you--really looks. Your lips are upturned, gentle as is the rest of you. The sun is halfway above the horizon now, the light from it filtering through the leaves of the trees that are planted outside the window. The golden rays hit your eyes perfectly, changing the hue the slightest bit and making him stop his tears momentarily--just to admire you. 

You blink at him. You smile. Tsukishima Kei is in love, just a little bit.

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽

(so... this has been a wild ride. 

first off i wanna say thank you for all the support i’ve received throughout this whole thing! it really means so much to me. i love you all so much. 

im very proud of myself for finishing this. this is by no means the greatest product i could’ve created--it was a little bit messy, and the word count of the entire series (ab 6000 i think) is lower than some long oneshots i’ve seen.

there’s a lot of things i could’ve done better--no doubt about that. but i am very proud of myself for making this. for finishing a WHOLE multipart series,,,,yes it was short but......its here! i did it! i’m finished! very happy with this. 

this series was mainly set in tsukishima’s own head--and i know it was probably at least a little disappointing that it was NOT action-based---and the fact that it was tsukki-centric was definitely a downer to some people because you didnt really get to feel what.... YOU would feel in that situation. we didnt get to see that here. 

and its okay if that’s what you disliked most!!! in truth i think that was one of my biggest weaknesses writing this series. but i liked it this way, i think. i like trying to analyze characters within my writing and i think that, at the very least, this was a good challenge for me to try to take on with characterization and the like.

anyways....that’s it i think! thank you so much for supporting me, really. i’m very thankful for everyone whose liked or reblogged any of the parts to komorebi. you are all incredible i love you. <3) 

(pssst!!! i’ll be talking about my 200 follower event soon. if you wanna participate, be on the lookout for that!!)

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #hq x you #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei x you #kei x reader #kei x you #kei tsukishima x reader #kei tsukishima x you #tsukki x reader #tsukki x you #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu oneshot #tsukishima fanfiction

[haikyuu-sickfics]

Vomit warning!

I feel bad about how poorly written my first Suna centric fic was so heres attempt #2

First it was Atsumu who came down with the horrible bug.  Though, thanks to his whiny nature, the abnormality in his condition was noticed quickly by his family. The early detection of the ailment allowed for him to not leave the house and spread his illness throughout the school- or worse his team.

This plan had one weak spot though.

That weak spot had a name, and a position on the volleyball team the Miya's tried so hard to keep healthy.

Though they struck luck, in a way.  Thanks to Osamu's reserved nature, it seemed that no one on the team was at risk of contagion.

No one but the only person closer to Osamu than Atsumu.

Rintarou.

The two were practically joined at the hip, if one of them was having a bad day- they both were.  If one of them sprained their ankle, magically the other did as well.  And, obviously, if one of them got sick, the other would definately catch it.

But they didn't get sick, one of the pros of being an observer and not a engager- like Atsumu.

"If ya got me sick I swear to everything I'm gonna pummel yer head in," Osamu threatened as his dull headache throbbed on the walk to school.

"Okay lemme just," Atsumu pursed his lips and sucked in as though a straw was in his mouth.

"The fuck was that?"

"Oh I'm just sucking all the sickness out of you because appearantly I can control where that shit goes," Atsumu sassed.

His attitude dropped quickly after recieving a knock on the head by his twin.

"The hell was that for?"

"You had immunity while you were sick, I've been holding that in for so damn long."

Atsumu pouted, absentmindedly rubbing the sore spot on his head and distancing himself a bit from his walking partner.

Todays walk to school felt significantly longer and more treacherous today, the suns rays beating down harder than they ever had, enveloping Osamu into a sweaty unwanted hug and injecting grogginess into his every movement.

Atsumu didn't point out Osamu's slow movements, fear of another rutheless attack providing more than enough restraint.

The sight of the schools familiar architechture proved a very welcomed sight to the both of them.  Atsumu waved goodbye before hurrying to join his group of friends, desperate to get away from his twin.

Osamu mumbled some line about his brothers rudeness before beginning the search for Rintarou.

They usually met up outside of their shared class, but Osamu wished to talk with him earlier.  As much as he disliked falling behind in work, there was no way he would be able to make it through a full day of school.  Having the same train of thought as Osamu, Rintarou was pacing to the left of the enterance, slender eyes scanning for the formers familiar presence.

Once the two caught eye contact they quickly walked up to eachother.

"Where did you say your brother has been?" Rintarou question immediately.

"Stomach bug," Osamu replied sullenly, knowing where this conversation was headed.

"Ok and did he sleep on the couch or something?"

"Nope, he stayed in our room because the couch was 'too hot,'" he surrounded the last bit with air quotes.

"So do you think-"

"That I caught it?  Yes," Osamu knew enough about his body to know that the bubbling sensation in his stomach was a sign of some sort of ailment.

"So it's contagious," Rintarou confirmed.

"Mhm."

Rintarou groaned, burying his face in his hands.  The moment he woke up with nausea pummeling down on him, his subconsious knew what had happened.  But it took Osamu strengthening his theory to make him sure

"So... are you going to school today?  Maybe you should stay home, I could walk you and make sure you get there safe," Rintarou hid his own eagerness to skip school by masking it with Osamu's.

"Yea okay."

Smiling inwardly at this small victory, Rintarou began the familiar trek to the Miya house.  The walk was blessfully short, the cool morning air and light traffic cruising by singing a soft lullaby.  By the time the house came into view, the two were practically sleep walking.

"M' moms not home, she missed a lotta work last week," Osamu informed between yawns.

Rintarou nodded, a small part of him hoped that the eldest Miya would be present,  her presence was always comforting and her extense experience in the ways of parenthood allowed for her to always know exactly what to do next.

Honestly, Rintarou really needed her right now, he hated to admit it but she was the closest thing he had to a mother figure, and doesn't everyone want to be nurtured when they're sick?

"When's she coming back," he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Osamu shrugged, slipping his key into the lock on the door and turning it.

"Dunno, she usually gets off at like 5 but she might stay longer to catch up."

Biting his inner cheek to suffocate his dissapointment, Rintarou followed Osamu into his house.

"I'll go make soup," Rintarou offered as Osamu dissapeared down the hall.

"Ugh no!  I've had soup for the past week, just make some sandwhiches or something."

That didn't sound like the best sick-day meal, but hey, it wasn't his house.

Rintarou knew his way around the Miya's kitchen as if it were his own, allowing him to effortlessly find the ingredients for a simple fruit sandwich.

With the two snacks on a plate, Rintarou walked down the hall to the twin's room where Osamu was huddled under the blankets on his bed, back to the door.

"I have food."

"Mneh."

"Yea ok."

Rintarou gently placed the food on a dresser before sitting next to Osamu on his bed.

"How you feeling?"

"Like shit," Osamu groaned, peeking his head out of the safety of his covers, "you?"

"Tired."

Osamu scooched over, pressing himself against the wall and patting the now empty space next to him, "then sleep."

Rintarou nodded thankfully before tucking himself under the blankets and curling into a ball on his side.  The bed was hot, or was that just him?  He didn't know anymore.  All he knew was that these blankets kept every degree of body heat trapped under its fibers, sticking it to the sweat beading on the both of their body's.

"Do you have shorts and a tank I could borrow?" Rintarou asked, tugging at the collar of his uniform.

"Mhm," Osamu lightly pushed Rintarou out of the bed before pulling himself up.

He rocked in place for a moment, eyes shut and jaw clenched and relaxing periodically.

"You good?"

Osamu held a finger up, waiting for the spell to pass.  It didn't pass.  He sat down quickly on the edge of the bed, elbows braced on his knees holding his head in his hands.

"No no no, not now," Rintarou scanned to room for a bag or bucket or anything that would keep Osamu from making a mess.

The only thing he could find was Atsumu's old sport duffle.

Better than nothing.

Rintarou grabbed it, not even checking to see if it was empty before thrusting it onto Osamu's lap.

A smile flashed behind Osamu's eyes as he imagine how pissed his twin would be when he saw this.

His devious joy didn't last for long though as his barely digested breakfast came barreling up his throat.  Lips parting slightly, a light wave of disgustingly sour stomach contents splashed into Atsumu's property.

"He's gonna be," Osamu passed to stifle a burp, "pissed y'know."

Rintarou hummed, purposely staring in the opposite direction.

Before Osamu could ask of his friends wellbeing, vomit took the place of words and a thicker wave of cereal landed on top of the previous with a sickening splat.

Rintarou walked out of the room at this, his head spinning with intense nausea.  He took deep breaths, trying desperately to calm his stomach long enough for him to make it to the toilet without incident.  The smell of fruit lingering on his hands assaulted Rintarou's nose as he covered his mouth.  A quick gag tore its way out, pressing ruthlessly against his stomach as the boys legs threatened to collapse beneath him.

He tried so hard to make it.  The bathroom was right there, he could see the door knob, practically touch it.  So close to turning it and entering into the clean comfort of the cool tiled floor and porceline bowl.  He didn't make it.

Of course he didn't.

Rintarou's inner struggle forced it's way out to paint the restroom door a dark abstract splash.

"The fuck was that?" Osamu called after hearing the splash.

Rintarou groaned, wanting nothing more than to sink into the floor below him and allow dirt to hug every crevice of his body.  Maybe if he sat still enough that would happen.  Or maybe enough dust would accumilate to hide his existance from the rest of the world, just another speck of dirt on the floor.

That was unreasonable thinking.  There was no avoiding the cold hard fact about what had just happened.  Rintarou just repayed the years of hospitality from the Miya's by decorating their interior with whatever the hell he ate the last handful of hours.

A sob forced it's way out before he had a chance to stop it.

It was at this moment he realized he had outstayed his welcome.  Sinking to the floor and giving up on the idea of going to the bathroom, Rintarou curled into a ball- his mind a blur of fever and frantic thoughts.  The floor felt uncomfortably comfortable, maybe it was the knowledge that this may be the last time he would ever know the bliss of touching the floor of this house.  The last time he'll be allowed to make sandwhiches in the kitchen a short walk away.  The last time he'll be allowed to cuddle up with Osamu and stay up late watching videos without headphones, much to the chagrin of Atsumu.

More tears forced their way out, completely distracting Rintarou from the fact that he was sick at all.  The only thing he felt right now was remorse and pure sadness.  His chest heaved as breath refused to come normally.

A goldball edged with burning metal was lodged deep in his throat, attracting his stomach contents with a strong magnetic pull but refusing it to go all the way up.  He coughed desperatly, trying to rid of the horrendous feeling plaguing his upper body or at the very least dislodge the ball.  It worked, not in the way he had hoped for, but relief was provided nontheless as the cough brought up another wave of sick to splash down between his chest and knees.

The door pushed open at this moment.

"Hello?  Is anybody home?  The doors unlocked."

Rintarou's breath caught as the familiar feminine voice reached his cotton stuffed ears.  His body froze with icy terror, trying his best to stay completely still and camoflauge into the wall.

"Ma?" Osamu's voice yelled out, ""M here with Rin, I think we're sick."

Rintarou shook his head as Osamu outed him and delicate footsteps made their way closer.

"No no no no no," he whispered to himself, eyes squeezed shut as if to force himself awake.

"Oh dear," Osamu's mother commented as Rintarou's pityful sight came into view.

"'M sorry, I'll clean it, I tried to make it, I'll leave when it's clean, I can run down to the store for supplies," he began his semi rehereased spiel.

"Sweetheart, no," she made her way closer to him, eyebrows furrowed in concern as tears ebbed the edges of her eyes, "It's alright, it's not your fault you feel like this."

She rubbed his hair away from his forehead before using her soft thumb to wipe his tears away.

"Let's get you cleaned up, hm?" She gently scooped her arms under his shoulder before opening the bathroom door and lowering him onto the toilet seat. "I'll grab some clothes and water, feel free to use the paper towels to wipe yourself down.

Rintarou didn't respond, too ashamed to look her in the eyes even to thank her.  He knew he was only making the situation worse, the absolute least the mother deserved was a heartfelt thanks.

So he just sat there, frown etched deeply on his face and eyes glued to the floor as the Miya went to check on her biological son.

Osamu was much neater looking, his mess had all been contained within Atsumu's sporting bag.  Still, his face was a mess.  A deep flush decorated his sickly pale skin which was glistening with thin beads of sweat and tears of exertion.

"Oh, did ya catch what 'Tsumu had?" She asked, sitting next to him and rubbing between his shoulder blades.

He nodded with a pout, leaning onto his mother's forehead who was working on zipping up the bag and setting it on the floor.

"Do you feel a little better now?"

He nodded.

"Great, would you please help me with a couple things?  I hate to make you do stuff, but I just need to get Rintarou a new set of clothes and I would hate to rummage around your closet.

Osamu nodded once more, standing up to search for suitable clothes as his mother took the soiled bag outside.  Once it was properly disposed of (next to the door to be dealt with later) she grabbed a couple rags, some cleaning solution and a bucket.

When she arrived to the bathroom, Osamu was already there with the clothes, trying to hand them to a refusing Rintarou.

"C'mon it;'s okay, please wear them."

Rintarou refused, fresh tears streaming down his face as his lips frowned deeply.

"I don't," he sniffed, struggling to speak between rapid breaths, "I don't deserve them."

"Don't be silly!" The eldest assured, quickly standing in front of Rintarou- forcing him to look into her caring, concerned eyes, "Please put them on, as long as you're under this roof- you're a Miya and you get the Miya-family-treatment whether you like it or not!"

Rintarou clenched his jaw, appreciation and love flooding through him in a way which only these people had ever been able to make him feel.  He had longed for this all of his childhood, the caring presence of an adult who wanted nothing but the best for you.  Who didn't care about how much of a mess you made, how rude you had been.  Someone who looked past all his faults and cared- truly cared- for the person beneath it all.

"Thank you," Rintarou finally whispered, a sad happiness taking over his expression as he collected the change of clothes, "Thank you so much."

The mother hugged him close, not caring about whatever may stain her shirt at this point.

"Anytime."

#tw: vomit #sick suna rintarou #haikyuu sickfic

[chokemeanakin]

Would you consider writing something short and sweet about Obi with a fellow jedi? Like maybe he comes back to the temple exhausted after a tiring mission and thinks about confronting his partner about what they're doing not being ok but then the moment they're alone she's like "I made you tea! And food! Let's cuddle!" And he thinks 'Nope, I'm definitely not ready to give this comfort up yet'

Thank you for the request! I’ve never written an obi-centric fic before but I actually really loved doing this. I hope you like it! ❤️

Masterlist

It’s You- Obi-Wan x gn Reader

Obi-Wan walked down the ramp of his ship behind the rest of his clones. It felt good to be back on stable ground, the safety promised by the Republic’s capital where the Jedi Temple was swarming with military personnel. However, an overwhelming sense of dread had slowly been building during his flight home, replacing the pride of his victory on Won’kito with anxiety and disappointment.

He had almost blown the mission.

The bomb had been set, and the droids were booking it out of the city. There were 60 seconds left before the 212th battalion realized the city would soon be dust and rubble, and Obi-Wan was the only one who could reach through the ray shield with the force in order to disarm the bomb.

By the time he reached it, there were 15 seconds left. Citizens were being rushed out of the city as fast as possible, but there was just no way they’d make it. They had been blindsided, set up, distracted, and now they were too late.

When Obi-Wan got the code, there were 10 seconds left. He couldn’t get through the ray shield. No matter how hard he pushed and prodded and willed the force through, he kept hitting a wall.

9...8...7...

He almost left.

As the bomb flashed red with every second it counted down, his mind flashed to you. How devastated you’d be when you found out he didn’t return from his mission. How miserable you’d look in all black, standing at his funeral and trying to hide your soul-crushing grief. How you’d never forgive him for leaving so suddenly, and how much he didn’t want to say goodbye.

As the numbers flashed 6, then 5, then 4, Obi-Wan considered jumping through that broken window and scaling the building rooftops to get as far away from the blast as he could. To save himself, but doom everyone else. The thought was gone in a blink, but his bones were shaking, muscles tensing, ready to carry out his selfish plan.

It was wrong.

3...2...1...

By some otherworldly blessing, he had finally managed to push through the barrier and enter the code. The bomb screamed as the explosion circuits began, then choked off once they had been broken. Obi-Wan felt his head rush with oxygen-deprivation— he’d been holding his breath for too long, but he couldn’t move. He was shaking too much.

It was only when the ray shield died and the bomb went dark did he dare to breathe again. He clutched at his chest, gasping, feeling for his heartbeat as if surprised it was still there. Then Cody’s voice came over his com, congratulating him on a job well done.

Now, he was back on Coruscant and his legs were just starting to stop trembling. It was easy to put on his brave mask for his soldiers, to pretend like he had everything under control all along. He was good at putting up masks, at hiding his feelings. He had hidden his feelings for you from the Council for so long, after all.

But deep down, he knew that had to change. Jedi weren’t supposed to feel, they were supposed to let go. How could he preach this to Anakin at every turn if he could not do so himself?

His attachment to you had gotten the best of him, and had almost caused the destruction and death of an entire city. He had almost succumbed to the pressure of your love, almost doomed thousands of people just so that he could live. Why him? Out of everyone, why should he have gotten out alive?

He knew what he had to do, but it didn’t stop him from dreading every second of it. Each step toward the room you two shared in the Jedi temple was like a step toward the execution block. His limbs felt numb, but his chest was burning. He cursed himself for getting into this mess in the first place, knowing how wrong it was yet being unable to ignore his undying attachment to you.

Feel it, and let it go, Obi-Wan chanted to himself over and over again. His heart was already breaking for you. Your face when he’d tell you you had to stop this thing you had going. How devestated you would be, his precious little fawn, broken and crying and hurting all over. All because of him.

He opened the door slowly, swallowing the lump in his throat when he glanced around the corner and caught sight of you. You were in the kitchen, hair tied up in a sloppy bun, pouring over something on the stove with the utmost concentration. Your tongue was sticking out in that adorable way it always did when you were thinking hard, and you were wearing one of his shirts.

He leaned against the doorway, watching you for a moment. The last few seconds of peace and happiness on your face... oh, how it would kill him to see you crumble.

“Obi-Wan?” You suddenly looked up, peering around the corner at the door. Your face brightened when you saw him. “You’re back!”

His heart dropped to his feet. You came bounding up to him, a mug of tea in your hands, face beaming with excitement. “I missed you so much! Come in, you must be so tired and hungry. I’ve been making your favorite dinner all day, oh and here’s some tea...”

He let you drag him to a chair on the island where he sat before a bubbling pot. The smell was heavenly, and the mug of tea warmed his stiff hands. He was so used to coming home to a dark, empty apartment before you... he hated the thought of going back to that after he let you go.

“Are you okay?” You asked him, face falling when you noticed his silence. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, inhaling the steam from the mug to try and clear his mind, to think of the words he had to say, to force them out of his mouth—

“I’m okay.” He finally managed, chest aching. He brought his hand up to tuck some flyaway hairs behind your ear, lingering there to cup your cheek.

“You’re just very quiet. And... you look sad. Did the mission go well? I should have asked when you arrived. I apologize.”

“It’s alright, the mission was a success,” Obi-Wan said. But I need to talk to you about something... about us.

He couldn’t get the words past his lips. Not when your cheeks were flushed that perfectly pretty pink, your heart beating with a languid bliss, so happy to see him, so enamored with his presence, so in love. It would be a crime in itself to rip that away from you.

“I’m so glad you made it back unharmed,” you covered his hand on your cheek with your own, fingers dwarfed in comparison to his. His heart melted at the sight. “Now sit back and drink your tea. The food will be done in a moment— you must be starving— and then we can go lie down and rest because you look so exhausted, and I’ve already got the bed all made up and the fluffy pillows are on your side this time...”

Obi-Wan leaned forward and pressed his lips against your own. So warm. So sweet. So his. He wanted nothing more than to hold you, nothing more than to keep tasting you like this.

His mind was screaming at him to let you go, to break away and tell you that you needed to stop seeing each other. To break off this love before it became unbreakable. But it was too late. His heart soared for you, and the kiss sealed his commitment to you.

He did not want to give this up.

Not just the tea, and the food, and the warm welcome home after a long, hard mission. It was you. Every atom in his body reached out for you, called for you, and he was weak. A true Jedi would not have fallen victim to his feelings so easily, but he had never been the perfect Jedi to begin with, had he? No matter how hard he tried, no matter what mask he put on, he could not deny the hold you had over him. There was simply no way he could follow through with it, no way he could turn you away now.

“Thank you, darling,” Obi-Wan whispered against your lips. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, and he basked in the soft, warm feeling of your body against his. No, he would never give this up. “I love you.”

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #obi wan fic #obi wan angst #obi wan fluff #obi wan x you #obi wan x y/n #star wars fic

[intothewickedwood]

Once Upon A Time Rewatch: 6x18 Where Bluebirds Fly

Whoop! Whoop! Zel Zel centric!

The yellow brick road! I wish the characters had an adventure in Oz so we’d get to explore it a bit more like we did Wonderland and Neverland.

Back off! Leave young Zel alone! Is magic not a common thing in Oz?

Aww this friendship is adorable. I kinda wish his name was Boq though to tie in with Wicked’s tin man, but they already included Boq.

It always makes me so sad seeing young Zelena. She was so sweet and her father is just the worst! She deserved so much better. She must have gotten her kindness from the little time she spent with her adoptive mothers, cause goodness knows her other three parents are evil. If she was raised by Cora to be Queen, I’m not sure she’d have had the heart to rule through fear like Cora no doubt would have wanted.

Get off baby Robin, you bitch! 

No you can’t hold her a little longer.

The Black Fairy: “I never grow tired of that new baby smell.” She is so freaking creepy.

She’s manipulating you, Zelly!

To be fair Zelena was almost that level of creepy when it came to Snowing’s baby back in s3. 

Lol. Poor Snow.

Okay. It is pretty adorable that Snow has been planning Emma’s wedding since after the first curse haha.

Help! Snow’s being super adorabubble!!

The fact that Zelena is probably Belle’s closest friend at this point lol. Poor Belle. I wish the others cared about her more but I do enjoy her dynamic with Zelena.

Zelena, don’t do it, girl!

Another entrance to the mines?

Other than Stanum (probably breifly) and briefly Glinda (the two-faced biatch) I don’t think Zelena has ever had any friends. She just had her horrible father growing up and that was it, no wonder she craved love so much. She’s always been alone and has known only hatred for something she can’t control (her magic).

Oh, so the Witch of the North is wicked too? Interesting. I wonder if she fell out with Glinda or Glinda turned on her too. I wanna know more about the Wicked Witch of the North! And heck, I wanna know what happened to the Witch of the East too!

Regina’s come to save sis!

God, these two fighting like children again lol.

Even though they’re fighting, Regina’s instinct is still to protect big sis from falling rock.

Getting married at Granny’s lol. But don’t they end up getting married on top of Granny’s or something?

David still not over Whale. Dude, you almost got Kathryn pregnant! You know what, it’s really messed up that they slept with others while cursed, even though they wouldn’t have if they weren’t under its influence. 

I think that deep down, Zelena just wanted a mother again. We still don’t know when her adoptive mother died but I think Zelena was really young. She was the only person to show her love and since Zelena going back in time may not prevent her death, she is desperate to find that love again from her other mother. She will do anything to have that again and that’s why she’s often so desperate to prove herself, she thinks power is the only way to win Cora’s affections. It’s the only thing that will make her mother, the only person she believes can love her, show her the love she so desperately craves.

It’s the king of the forest! 

Why is a Lion in a forest? Or tigers? I’m not even gonna ask.

Is Gideon more powerful than Regina? He knocked her down pretty easily. 

The Black fairy playing hide and seek with the Wicked Witch of the West.

Go Zel Zel!

This scene is so cool!

The Black Fairy can deflect magic? Weird that Blue hasn’t been shown to do that. I guess they have different power sets.

There Regina goes again. She is getting flipped around so easily today lol.

Yes! Thank you! Zelena is stronger than Regina confirmed. I was afraid they were going back on what they’d established in s3. She’s supposed to be more powerful than Cora, according to Rumple, who I think is easily more powerful than Regina. I’m gonna do a magic ranking one day. 

Magic is really affected by emotions. So because Zelena’s emotions are unstable, that makes her magic unstable? Interesting. I love it being connected to their emotions. 

What’s she using Zelena’s magic to do?

That lion is huge!

Oh, she made it into a scaredy cat. I wonder if it can talk.

Don’t say that Regina. Zelena needs you. You need each other deep down. Just wait till s7, you’ll be besties then!

Even though Regina’s hypocrisy this season gets to me a lot, I’m glad that Regina and Zelena’s sisterhood was tested and they didn’t instantly become besties. It makes their friendship all the more real and worth the ride in s7.

Snow: “And if she wanted to get married in a bathroom it would be perfect and exactly what it’s supposed to be.” Oh my God lmao! That would have been the best! 

Umm, how did the crystal summon a tornado portal?

I misremembered. I thought Stanum knew it would drain her magic but he seems like he’s telling the truth that he didn’t.

He’ll be alright. Dorothy will help him.

But what will she do with the crystals? 

Zelena: “You’re all I’ve got, Regina.”

I actually want to cry. This was so brave of Zelena. You can tell how much the idea of destroying her magic breaks her. It is a part of her. She’s had it since the day she was born. Can you imagine ripping away something that is that ingrained in who you are and have always been? It makes me so upset but it was important for her development. 

I wanna hug Zelena! 

It looks painful. I imagine it would be ripping away a part of yourself like that. 

Aww Regina is so proud of her sis and hugs her. I can’t!!

God I was so distraught when they took Zelena’s magic. You don’t understand. I think I still would be extremely distraught if she hadn’t gotten magic back in s7. The important thing was, much like Harry Potter meant to die when Voldemort struck him in the Deathly Hallows, Zelena meant for her magic to be gone forever and that is a bigger sacrifice for her than anyone will ever understand, akin to sacrificing her life. I wasn’t sure she ever would get it back but I wish Robin hadn’t given up her magic. It was very nice of her to do that for her mother, who’s magic was such an important part of her life but can you imagine mother and daughter and Alice and Robin kicking ass with their magic. In my head, Robin gets magic back a short time after the s7 finale. 

Why oh why didn’t we get more of a Black Fairy and Blue Fairy interaction in Storybrooke? At least we get some in the flashbacks next week.

She really hates her.

I can’t remember why Rumple can’t know why his mother gave him up. Guess I’ll find out soon!

This was such a great and important episode for my girl, Zelena. So proud of her. What an emotional rollercoaster! 

#ouat #once upon a time #zelena #regina mills #zelena mills #wicked queen #ouat 6x18 #6x18 where bluebirds fly #ouat rewatch #ouat rewatch 2019

[zeoia]

I am a warm and loving person. I always have been and always will be.

Growing up, I had to be responsible very early on. I had no choice but to be mature for my age. After all, my mother wasn't there, and we needed a mom. My father was clueless, emotionally detached as an alpha male type. Currently he's not as bad as he used to be, as he finally acknowledges that when I cry, it's not to make him angry. I am crying because I am hurting. And when I am hurting I need comfort.

It used to be about his comfort. He hated seeing the tears. He'd tell us don't you dare start crying. I bottled up emotions. I withheld feelings at home. But they kept coming out during school. I'd isolate myself to cry.

One time I had an extreme outburst to the point of getting violent. I felt unheard. I'd been unheard for so long. People weren't understanding.

I had to separate from my biological mom as a child because she was incapable of taking care of us. This created a sense of longing. There was a hole in my heart and I kept wanting to fill it up somehow.

My father remarried when I was going to middle school. I told him I was fine with it. But honestly I didn't know any better. I was nine, going on ten. How was I supposed to know that I was just saying okay because that's just what I felt dad wanted to hear.

The marriage lasted throughout middle school and fell apart during high school. My stepmom was a scary person. Especially with her son around. She became very controlling. We weren't allowed in her chairs. Not allowed to watch her television. Weren't allowed to eat her foods. She made a mental note of the amount she had left. And anytime something went wrong, despite her son being the one who had always been the one to get into trouble, somehow, my brother and I were shouldering the blame for stuff we didn't do.

We were far from perfect little babies, but the worst we did was stay up past bedtime playing video games. He was a habitual liar. A thief. He was frequently breaking into houses, including our own. The first time I remember interacting with police was because of him. He broke into a girl's house. I was so nervous and I felt small. Because I was. I was so very small.

The divorce process was messy. She wanted to take our house away. Our home. The place that my brother was building bonds in. He frequently went outside spending time with neighbors. Unlike her son, we were still kids. By this time he was approaching adulthood. We couldn't be subjected to that.

We did manage to keep the house somehow. But... Maybe it would have been better to have lost it. To have moved downtown. So my father would stop acting like it was our fault that we stayed out here.

You see, my father has this habit of saying how he wanted to move downtown, closer to where everything is, but would tell us that "you guys wanted to stay here with your friends" in a mocking way. As if a teenager and a preteen know any better. Of course we wouldn't know of what opportunities existed for us downtown. We didn't live our lives in the future. We lived our lives in the moment. Looking at the future just wasn't a thing.

And the only future I COULD think of was the inevitable end. The inescapable fate that every living being shares. Because I wanted it. I wanted it to hurry up and take me so I could stop feeling sadness. the shameful feelings that would make other people uncomfortable.

I had been tired of moving. Tired of leaving people. My childhood involved way more goodbyes than I could deal with. And I continued to be desperate to fill that hole my mother left.

In this home, we finally had a permanent place. Some sort of stability. I didn't want to let go of anything. I couldn't let go of anything. After all, every time my mother visited us, I kept having to let go. I had to let go of the person who was willing to let me cry. I had to let go of the person who frequently told me I love you. this isn't to say that my father was unloving. I still remember every day when we still lived in the apartments, my brother and I would be home alone and we'd hear the door unlocking. And we'd make a mad dash to the door to jump into his arms to be hugged by him.

But this came to an end eventually. Growing up was awkward, and it made me withdraw more. My father expected me to be more ladylike. Despite telling me stuff like "do your best" I often felt like I was failing, even if I wasn't actually failing. Things were hard for me in school. On top of the stress of the divorce, my grades were getting worse. The transition from middle school to high school was uncomfortable. I told myself I was done with goodbyes, so why did I have to say goodbye to my best friends again?

I still remember people I considered my best friends, all the way from third grade. Donna. Jessica. Tina. Martha. Karen. Rae. Megan.

Graduating high school I didn't want to let go. I was tired of letting go. Despite my frequently feeling slightly out of place, I clung to Rae and Megan. We worked the same jobs for years. And then when Rae left for college, it was just me and Megan. Two weird kids with little ability to actually make new friends.

Megan and I did everything together. I went to her house frequently. We even went to the same community college. But as an adult things were getting different. She was very interested in dating, and I was getting more into self discovery. Online, I was making friends with people who liked the things I liked. I got involved with fandoms. She was too, actually.

But our interests didn't always overlap. But in my desperation to keep doing things with my only real life friend, I forced myself to enjoy the things she did. I didn't care for super heroes. Didn't care for being a "Potthead" as they called themselves. I don't know if that's still the term. She liked a lot of things that were very white, euro-centric. I liked things that were. Well they felt different. I liked webcomics and other things I found online, rather than mainstream media. Sometimes I tried to convince her to do something that I liked to do, but she wasn't really having it. If anything she just had a preference for insulting it and making me feel bad for liking things that really weren't her taste.

Honestly I don't remember what started the build up of animosity. I remember that I lost my grandmother on my dad's side and I felt terrible because I never got to really know her. My depression was absolutely awful then and I couldn't bring myself to go to work often. I remember one day when we were looking at our paychecks and she gave me this condescending "well maybe if you didn't call out so much." And I told her "hey how would you feel if your grandfather died? What would you have done huh?" And she got mad at me for making her even think about it. Me, actively in mourning about the death of a loved one, and she's the one mad because I dared to ask her to put herself in my shoes.

The rift was growing so much bigger. But we both still wanted to hold on because we both had nobody. I... Honestly couldn't tell you what it was that was the final nail in the coffin. Maybe it was all the guilt tripping she did. She told me that she was tired of having to go everywhere with me and that it cost money to drive me from place to place, ignoring the fact that I was always going the same place with her. Work. School. We planned it out so it was convenient. And I often bought things for her. I paid for food, gave her gas money, and I even sometimes would splurge on something she had her eye on. Like. A figure or a toy. She had bills and I didn't, so I had the spending money for it. Because I had to make sure that I wasn't going to say goodbye again.

But we did. It was messy. She called me a petty bitch. I don't even remember everything. I just know that I was alone again. Secluded. Isolated. I had nobody. Nine years of friendship and the void was bigger now.

I was desperate to keep finding people. I kept surrounding myself with groups. Getting deeply involved in fandoms in an attempt to connect with people. I leaned heavily on people emotionally, especially if they got closer to me and interacted with me more. People who did anything for me, I would cling to immediately. I wanted to do everything with people who spent time with me. I became addicted to attention.

And that addiction is why I'm in this mess today. It's true that I have managed to surround myself with genuine people who love me, but sometimes something bad lurks about. Especially in a place full of mentally ill people.

#long post #inside my head #about me #life story #this is a heavily abrisged version #i didnt go into detail about my dad not being able to let me do my own shit #how i tried to branch out and make more friends during my college time #i had anime nights with the sometimes and i would get so into it that i would lose track of time #this made him very angry one time #i hadnt checked in with him every hour and it made him worry #and because of not calling him he called me and told me to come home #keep in mind i am a full grown adult #but somehow I had it in my mind that i had no choice but to be obedient #ive never been in a particularly healthy environment #honestly the only reason i feel less controlled now is because he has himself an obedient wife #but even now he still tries to sway me away from being true to myself #and tries to make me into his version of myself

[dungeonsanddragonsfifthedition]

cad meta is what i do and i’m having a bad day and need a distraction so here’s some thoughts on all his weird shit last night. in three parts.

part i: “i regret my weakness” is such a line. let’s talk priorities. let’s talk about sureness. let’s talk about people as projects. let’s talk about that fucking commune.

as soon as shit started getting connected, he zoned the fuck out and was like, “yes, i have a way to solve this and help get these connections made.” i’ve missed commune, it’s a good spell, and i like the way melora’s answers are treated. he asked about nott, and then beau (or maybe the other way around?), and then about his family, for the first time.

(maybe it’s because beau pointed out that his lack of attempts seemed odd? maybe it’s because he’s slowly started to realize that he’s a person who can go after his own wants?)

i am... concerned about the vagueness of the answer he received re: his family, but it at least confirms that some of the clays are probably alive and definitely in the menagerie. but it’s the response to that that gets me. it’s how he reacts to that news of, well, everything you’re looking for--or at least most things--are in one place, and your friends are willing to go, even amidst their own issues. 

he starts out by calling himself weak, and then refusing to explain that insult to the others. he then begins a repression-disguised-as-selflessness off with beau and nott--two strong competitors in the field. somehow, he wins.

but he was excited the night before. he was ready. he admitted that his path was kind of urgent, but he turned back on that, once he learned that the others were already there. i’ll talk more on this later, but... it doesn’t paint a happy picture of his feelings about his family. the word “abandoned” came up on talks the other week, and i’m standing by that i think that’s the main emotion, here. again, i’ll talk more on that later. fjord called him selfless, in the hot tub talk. caduceus corrected him, and said he was afraid. i don’t think he’s just afraid of them being dead, is the thing. i am still wearing my “Cad Is Sick/Cursed/Withering” hat though, for personal reasons and also because of course that would make the reunions tense. of course.

the fact that he thinks going to the menagerie is “inevitable” and he wants to “spend the time before that doing as much as we can for everybody” lends some weight to this theory--the too-pale, very eccentric, too-thin, always-tired, liar, baby of the family (it happens, so everybody cares and wears the sheep’s clothes while they chaperone) doesn’t want to be taken home. doesn’t want to be breakable and useless. he has people to help, now.

but let’s talk about the other backstory-dodge attemptees, for a second. 

cad admires beau. this is canon, i don’t shut up about this. cad genuinely thinks that beau is the coolest person he has ever met, and he’s right. he wants to help her, but he didn’t really know she needed to be helped, but this--well. forest witches and family issues, that’s his fucking wheelhouse. his desire to help her isn’t like his usual help-quests--he’s very much handling this like he handled the trent situation, it seems, where he’s like, “oh, these people hurt you? i hate them and will kill them. i have never had friends before and this is how friendship works.” which is so valid.

nott, meanwhile, we know he has (entirely reasonable imo) beef with. he brought up a part of that beef last week--please just apologize and have a conversation about dying, god. but he wants to help, because he knows nothing if not fixing things, people. he hates it when he doesn’t know how to fix things, people--let’s recall one of his first-ever communes, the too big to fix one. and it’s a character flaw, this, we know. he has a poorly shaped understanding of how non-familial, non-divine, non-transactional relationships work. he deals exclusively in the one-on-one, unless he’s fucking with people or communicating with melora. (”his protector” was a fun new label, matthew.)

so again. witches, curses, feeling weird about going back to the way things were before the nein? kind of his fucking wheelhouse. nott hasn’t been helpable, until now, in his eyes, because she didn’t want to be fixed. but now she does, so--well. now he can try. and it’s fucked up, and it’s shitty, but it’s certainly interesting, too.

part ii: this episode was very centric on family shit in general so as a nice change of pace in between two family drama parts we’re gonna talk about drinking, drugs, and a potential crush on a certain warlock/paladin

we’ve known since the island with the bees that it’s not that he doesn’t like drinking, it’s that he doesn’t like the taste of alcohol, but episode 92 kind of. hit that harder than before. he’ll take whiskey, mixed with juice, and if it’s still nasty, he’ll add hallucinogenic fruit that he’s only ever used before (unless tal’s goof about microdosing the crew was not a goof, which. it was a goof.) to ask melora about vandran. and he’ll enjoy himself! Caduceus Does Drugs was, again, canon, but we’ve never experienced high cad before.

and high cad? rather--crossed cad, because he was drunk, too. crossed cad is a flirt. after being made uncomfortable at the idea of him being related to fjord--who is so handsome, with a nice-looking nose and cool hair--he spends the night just. “fjord you’re so cool. fjord your accent is so hard how do you do accents, fjord. fjord your magic which used to scare me is so cool. fjord your joke was funny.” he gets embarrassed. he facepalms on the bar. as a fellow socially awkward gay, yasha pats him on the back. and then, he continues. just talking to fjord.

he wakes up hungover. he quietly dislikes it. beau quietly notices. nobody else comments.

when they get to kamordah, he drinks again. if i saw things right, for the first time, we see caduceus not wince at the taste of a (non-mead) alcohol. it might have just been a tal-wasn’t-in-character, but iirc, every other time cad’s drank? there’s been some faces made.

something’s up. again, we’ve known for a good amount of time that Caduceus Is Not Okay, and i am the first to advocate for Caduceus Has A Crush, but this episode managed to solidify both of those things very clearly. he doesn’t know what he wants anymore, is the thing. and he’s so lonely.

part iii: back to family drama! fragility, bad dads, and the fact that the nein are more similar than anyone wants to admit

his attempt at using objective language when talking about seeing one’s parents again is sort of what set me off last night. last night was all about shitty parents, and uhhhh well we certainly got some fuel to the “cad’s a little bit angry at his parents” fire last night.

we were talking in the fc server on how a few of us (self-included) are under the impression that cad’s dad is one of the family members already “under the ground,” which reminded me of a terribly long, purple-prosey character analysis thing i wrote in like. june. wherein i posited that caduceus was probably rather young when people started leaving. the maturity line kind of... hinted at that, i think. he’s done a lot of thinking, in the time he’s been alone; it’s kind of implied that he did a lot of his growing up in his time alone. 

he didn’t care if thoureau was being genuine or not. he cared to know if thoureau took actual steps for protecting his family, or if he was just paranoid and performative. caduceus clay is a charismatic forest-dwelling witch, raised by forest-dwelling witches, and he knows the types of wards and guards and protections they suggest. he knows the lies they tell those they perceive to be naïve.

did abandonment help beau? is fjord really on some grand destined quest tied all because of a family name? did jester’s loneliness make her the beacon of joy that she appears to be? is caleb forever bound to fix who he was before all of this? is yasha allowed to embrace that she is loved, now? if nott’s problem is solved, will she leave the nein without complaint?

makes you think. or whatever.

#original #text #cr #caduceus clay #long post! #cr spoilers #caduceus #boylore

[gayroman]

sometimes, i feel yellow

jjpope fanfiction. angst/fluff. second/first pov. pope centric, jj backstory. taglist: @dreamypope @pope-obx @drspock @playitaagain @bipopeheyward @ronnieweasley @pluto-the-planet1 @shipperssafehaven @jjbaymank (let me know if you want to be added!)

You are on a swing. The world is pushing against you. You are becoming one with the sky, your bones falling to the ground.

This is what what dying feels like. It feels good for a moment, all high and light, then, you swing back down and hit rocks. Everything shatters. Your feet crumple first, the your legs and suddenly your body folds into nothing.

You get back on the swing. You know nothing but infinity. It starts again.

For a moment, you can smell your mother's cooking and you forget you don't have a mother.

There is a hole in your body bandaids cannot fix. You are only a boy, so empty, so drained and filled with nothing. Everything echos inside you and you can't figure how you got so hollow.

Calloused hands, sleep deprived eyes, aching stomachs. This is not living.

It always feels like its about to rain but it never does.

Your lips are chewed raw and there is blood under your nails.

Sometimes you feel a little whole but mostly, it feels broken.

Snapped twigs abandoned on sandy shorelines and gravel paths with entrances marked with war aged trees.

A camera is smashed into the pavement, no more memories.

Everything is licked by fire. The flames don't go out.

You are on a swing. The world is forcing you into the blank sky. Your skin melts and your skeleton is left out to dry.

Everyone has a silhouette. Not you. You leave no mark. You are nothing, as they say.

You can see your childhood home in the distance, behind the garden, close enough to touch but leaning away from you. It does not want you no matter how much you want it.

Your fingers are sticky and for a moment you can't figure out why until you remember you are scratching your skin until your body is covered in blood. Small wounds let out waterfalls.

You can't get off the swing. Your teeth hurt from gum you don't remember chewing. Your mouth tastes like dry clementines and medicine and ash.

The swings stretch for miles but there is only you. (You are utterly alone.) For a second, you wonder whether you can move to another swing. (You stay put, don't bother trying. Maybe next time, when the sky is lighter.)

The air smells like round pasta and tear drenched line paper. Smiles across the skies and mountains that groan in the mornings.

You tumble off the swing, into the wet dirt. You get back up. You start again.

All you know is infinity.

---

JJ smiles when it’s just us.  All happy, too sweet to ignore.  

I feel so slow.  Everything feels so slow.  Neil is trying.  He is smiling, talking more than he always does, making sure I’m not hungry, not cold.

No, I’m okay.  I’m fine. It’s alright.  Don’t worry about me.

He is trying too hard.  He is doing what he thinks I want.  I don’t want that. I want him.

He doesn’t understand.  I want to love all of him.  All the pieces he loves, all the pieces he hates so much he locks them away.  Those pieces deserve love too.

Sometimes I feel yellow.

I am standing in the kitchen, hands on the counter, staring out the window at the sky.

Thick soupy yellows and watery ones that spread far across every little thing.  Corns and suns and sand at the bottom of the ocean. Nail polish and wide skirt dresses and pens and cereal your mother buys.

The oven is beeping.  JJ shuts it off.

He comes in and stands behind me, wraps his arms around my waist, puts his head on my shoulder.  I can feel every breath he breathes out, every sigh. He fits perfectly into me.

I don’t know why I feel this way, nobody else does.  JJ doesn’t ask why.

He is making me see stars.

Him.  Him. Him.

I wanted him to be angry at me for feeling like this. His calm was angry. I wanted JJ to shout, hate me a little in his soul. This was JJ. Only angry sometimes, never at me.

He kissed the palms of my hands and held them tight.

"Its okay," he says. "To be upset."

I hate this feeling that's inside me. I hate his calm.

My body slumps and I fall into JJ. My cheeks are all hot. The room is too hot. He doesn't try and kiss me but I wish he would. He tells me to breath instead.

One two three. One in one out. Again again again.

JJ cares. Its strange to think how someone like JJ, drowned in loss and broken things, can try again just to love me. Hold me tighter tighter tighter, trying. (That's the wonder of it, isn't it? He tries.)

He is fixing my broken pieces.

---

There are three freckles on his hip bone. Three small boats in an ocean of skin. I kiss them all.

He traces over the crescent scar on my back. JJ is all fuzzy around the edges, cheeks flushed from the wine we shared. He gets like this, all soft and lazy, tired, eyes barely open, mouth slightly closed. I kiss all the giggles off his mouth.

"Where did you get this," he asks.

"My grandfather's stupid fucking dog," I say. He laughs.

Love is not all knowing. It tries to be. It is all naked, trying to understand all the mysteries under skin and veins.

There's a scar on his wrist. I don't want to know where it's from

(Before, when I couldn't sleep, I would stare up at the ceiling, out the window, go downstairs and listen to the kitchen shake. Now, I can turn into JJ and let him hold me. Love has made me soft.)

I cannot sleep.

"What's this," I ask JJ, pointing to the almost round scar on his cheek. Its impossibly small but I'm surprised I never noticed it. There's one by his ear too, that I didn't see before this.

JJ smells like sunken ships devoured by waves and clean bed sheets. (This is my favorite smell.) There's dirt under his nails. There's a lake in his eyes.

JJ smiles all sad, like rain, shrugs the best he can. That's all I get.

Everything feels like a secret.

"Can I show you something?" JJ asks. I nod. I wasn't sleeping anyways.

He pulls me out of bed. He's wearing my sweater.

---

Everything is covered in goosebumps.

In the clearing of trees behind the house, there is three gravestones, one brand new, the others crumbling with time. The crack in the forest opens up to new winds. I shiver. This feels like an unhealed wound, glowing red, on cold skin.

There's a tombstone for someone named Molly. Aged eleven.

JJ says nothing. I turn to the other grave. The leaves crack under my shoes.

"My father died after Molly did. He had been dying a long time but she finished him off." No sadness in his voice. I can taste the spice from dinner on my lips and wonder, only for a second, if JJ can too.

"My mother died just after I met you." I can't figure out why he's telling me this, especially now, when I am trying to find sleep. The urge to vomit bubbles in my throat, I fight it back down into my stomach. He grabs my hand and I grib it tight. I wish I had a coat.

We stand there. I turn, kiss him. I can taste the wind in his mouth.

---

I dream. I do not want to.

Are you drowning in the ocean or in his eyes?

There's a cake on the table, perfectly decorated. I sit down, take a bite. The icing cracks and the floor breaks.

I need to grab something. There is nothing. Something creaks, I don't know what. The sky is black, the dirt is orange. I vomit. Flowers sprout.

There is no JJ, only the jacket he likes. I put it on. I am warm. The ground steadies, just a little. My head stops spinning.

Running. I am running from something.

I stop. There is nothing behind me.

A girl is sitting by the pool. Long hair the color of the stars, her dress dipping into the ground. She smells like cherry ice pops and watermelon juice. She smiles. Her voice sounds like thunder.

"Are you drowning in the ocean or in his eyes?"

I can see the freckles in his hip, the three little boats.

In his eyes, I think.

---

I wake up.

I remember, when I first moved in, I did not love him because I did not know him.  I loved what he did for me, the risk he took by letting me in, letting me stay.  We fell into routine. He made dinner on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. I made dinner Monday, Wednesday and Friday.  We went out on Saturday and ordered in whenever we felt lazy. I did laundry at the end of the week and he did his smack dab in the middle.  His clothing mixed into mine and we did it all in one load. He let me pick whichever room I wanted and stay up as late as I wanted and drive the car, all I had to do was ask. 

Everything finally felt good.  

We mixed well together.

I remember when he took me out, finally, after waiting for so long.

Halfway through dinner, JJ had spoken up.

“Would you like to go on a date?”

There’s a bruise on his cheek, a brown flower, that wasn’t there last night.  

Dinner is soup.  My turn. I didn’t go out to get another and there wasn’t much in the kitchen.  We needed to go grocery shopping.  

“With you?”  He nodded. I stuttered.  “Sure, where?”

JJ had shrugged  “I can figure something out,” he said   “Unless you have an idea.” I shook my head.  I’ve only been on one or two dates. I don’t know what people like to do.  

I didn't say anything else.  He said: “Are you free tonight?”  I can only nod. This whole interaction is so odd.  It’s not the kind of thing I would ever expect from JJ, or anyone else.

I lied.  I’ve never been on any dates.

JJ smiled at me then, a real one.  A rare occurrence, but always a welcome one.  

I don’t want to spend the rest of dinner in silence so I say:  “We need groceries.” JJ nodded.

“Anything specific?”  He asked.

“Well, I had a few ideas for my days, and then whatever you want.”

Jesus Christ.  So domestic, like a married couple that still loves each other.  “Make sure to get two loaves of bread. We eat them too quickly.”  He smiled. I offered a half lipped smile back, not reaching my eyes, though I pray he doesn’t notice.  

He goes off, talking about a book, something that happened, I can’t tell.  He laughs and I join in, only half alert of the story he’s telling. He throws up his arms to gesture to something and I nod.  He feels so alive.

I had never wanted to be loved by anyone more.

We're disasters, him and I.

---

I go back to sleep. I dream. There is a corn maze.

---

I walk to the maze, take a deep breath and step inside.

Every outside sound disappears.  I can only hear the plants moving in the wind and the sound of my own breath.  The wind feels a little colder and something clicks in my head. It’s an ocean of calm, the fields grown high enough to frame the sky.  It’s just you and heaven. Alone.

(I don’t like alone.  But I like this.)

This is not fall.  This is winter in an orange coat.  Autumn is thick with family. Winter takes the long path home, all alone.  Everything smells like dirt.

Everything everything everything.  This is the only word I know.

Go home, the wind is saying.  What is home. Is it JJ or is it with Mom?  Is it the town? Does it not exist?

I go home.  Wherever that is.

---

It's morning. All I can think of is Molly. Why he never mentioned it, and why then.

JJ smiles. He is made of secrets.

He is homes and I am drowning in his eyes.

#obx #jjpope #mayward #outer banks #pope heyward #jj maybank #mayward fanfic #mayward fanfiction #jjpope fanfiction #jjpope fanfic #charlie writes #my writing #this is shit im sorry #i wrote this while sitting in traffic for three hours enjoy

[stubbornness-and-spite]

Never Doubt I Love

Inspired by THIS post from @pretty-as-princey

Fandom: Sanders Sides - part of my collection Remind Me Why I Fell In Love With Happy Endings(Happy Endings)

Characters: Patton-centric, Roman, Logan, Virgil, Janus

Relationships: Patton & Everyone

Warnings: bad self esteem, negative self talk, negative self worth

Notes: Takes place an indeterminate amount of time after POF when Remus and Janus aren’t fully accepted, but not ostracized either. They don’t live with the Light Sides but they pop in on a regular basis. Patton cares about them and considers them vital parts of Thomas, but not really family yet. *italicized sections are flashbacks* My Masterpost will be updated to include this and the ao3 link when it’s posted

Summary: Love languages were hard. Patton wanted to be able to express himself in all of them so that no one in his famILY could doubt he loved them. He was loud and energetic and open and kind and tired. Patton was so tired.

Word Count: 4781

~

Patton loved the others, he really did. He made mistakes and he knew that, but he loved them so much and he tried so hard to make sure they knew that. He thought they did, but lately he was less sure. 

~

“Patton, please,” Logan sighed, cutting off yet another of Patton’s overly enthusiastic contributions. “Thomas has neither the time nor the money to adopt an animal. We have been over this before.”

Patton stiffened, his eyes widening slightly, his smile static on his face. “You’re right, Logan,” he said with a reassuring smile. “Silly me. I’m just gonna-” he pointed down and sank out of Thomas’s living room before anyone had a chance to protest. Well, that wasn’t totally true. He sank down before he had to hear them not protest and could pretend that he just missed it because he left too quickly. 

Patton rose up in his room with a sigh. Logan was right, as usual. Patton was wrong, as usual. He was okay with that. He liked hearing Logan explain things and he didn’t mind when Logan’s explanations proved him wrong. Seeing Logan excited to share was more than enough. Patton just wished- no. Logan was right and he was wrong and that was that. It didn’t matter how much of his opinion or idea he got to say because in the end, Logan was right. All that Patton finishing his thought would do was waste time when everyone knew who was going to win in the end.

“Patton?” Patton turned to his door where he could see the shadow of someone’s shoes. “Is everything alright?”

“Just fine!” Patton called through the door, fervently wiping at his eyes which had started to dampen without him noticing. “I’ll be down and making dinner in a few minutes, don’t you worry!”

“That is… not remotely why I’m concerned, Patton,” Logan said through the door. “May I come in?”

Patton blinked his eyes quickly a few more times. “Sure, kiddo!”

Logan eased the door open hesitantly. “You left rather abruptly. Are you certain nothing is bothering you?”

“Abso-positiv-a-yepper-yes-a-lutely!”

Logan blinked. “Was that crime against the English language intended to be a yes?”

Patton sighed, smiling weakly. “Sure was, kiddo. I just need a minute before coming to make dinner, alright?”

Logan frowned. “Of course that’s not a problem, Patton, but—”

“Then I’ll see you in a minute, Logan,” said Patton almost sharply, cutting him off. Instantly Patton’s eyes went wide and he slammed his hands over his mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Logan!” He cried, his voice muffled by his hands. “I shouldn’t have cut you off! I know you hate it when we don’t listen to you and we don’t listen enough! I don’t listen enough! I’m so sorry!” The words spilled out of Patton’s mouth like water from a faucet(or blood from an open wound) but he couldn’t stop them. 

Logan reached over and grabbed Patton’s hands, pulling them away from his mouth and holding them between the two. “Patton. It’s okay. Please don’t worry about it. I’ll see you in a few minutes?”

Patton nodded shakily and Logan took a step back. Patton forced himself to let go of Logan’s hands and let him step away. Patton was the one who asked him to leave in the first place. Now he had to live with that. Logan’s fingers trailed over his as their hands dropped back to their sides and Patton couldn’t stop the small choked noise that escaped him at the loss of contact. Logan either didn’t notice or thought preserving Patton’s dignity was important enough to pretend he didn’t. Patton’s hands twitched at his sides and he shoved them in his pockets to hide them. Logan didn’t want to hear Patton whine. Logan valued productivity and even Patton’s attempts to be productive weren’t good enough; Logan definitely didn’t want to hear him whine and complain about his feelings. Logan has better things to do. Logan cared about him, but he didn’t want to deal with emotions and that was okay. Patton didn’t want to be a burden. That was how he showed he cared. 

Patton blinked. He was alone. Logan was gone. Patton wondered when he’d left. He wondered if Logan had actually been there at all or if Patton had just imagined him in another pathetic fit of desperation. 

~

Logan knew Patton loved him and Logan loved Patton too. That was how Logan showed he cared. Patton asked him to leave and he did. It wasn’t Logan’s fault that he didn’t try to stay and comfort Patton because Patton didn’t need comfort. Patton had gone downstairs and made dinner that night and no one had ever thought about it again. Patton needed to stop dwelling. Of course his famILY knew he loved them, he told them all the time!

~

Patton had gone directly to Roman’s room after that awful video when Janus revealed his name. It was nice to not have to be afraid of Janus and Remus, but really it was Roman that Patton was concerned about. The others were vital parts of Thomas, but Roman was part of Patton’s tiny family. 

“Roman?” Patton called through the door. Roman’s door was almost never closed. He liked having the other sides free to come in and out of his room and his door to the Imagination, but now it was not only closed, it was locked. Patton hadn’t even known their doors could lock. Roman must have changed his specifically. “Roman, kiddo, please let me in! I’m sorry we hurt you! We love you so much! Please, Roman!”

It felt like an eternity passed before Roman opened the door. He wasn’t wearing his usual regal attire, but was dressed in a large and ill-fitting tee-shirt and baggy sweatpants. His hair was a mess as if he’d been grabbing at it and his eyes were red and wet.

“Come in, Patton,” he sighed, stepping aside so that Patton could walk into his room. It was a mess. His posters were torn down and his usual outfit in a pile on the floor. Roman’s desk doubled as a vanity and it was disturbingly bare. Everything that had been on it, finished products that he displayed with pride, his unfinished work, his hair products, his face products, his makeup, had been shoved into a trash can or onto the floor. The mirror on it was shattered. Patton whipped around to look at Roman when he noticed a spot of red on the cracks of the mirror.

“Show me your hands,” Patton demanded. Sure enough, Roman was hiding his hands behind his back. Patton took a steadying breath and sat down at the foot of Roman’s bed. “Sit with me?” he asked, a little softer. Roman did, still keeping his hands folded to Patton couldn't see his knuckles. “Show me your hands.” Patton reached out his own hands and waited. After a moment, Roman reached over and put his hands in Patton’s. Patton gasped softly at the forming bruises on his knuckles and the spider web of cuts on his fingers. 

“Hey, Roman?” Patton asked shakily. “Can you conjure me some bandages and antiseptic? You’re so much better at conjuring than me.” Roman didn’t even blink at the compliment, but a roll of clean bandages and an unlabeled bottle that Patton assumed was antiseptic appeared between them. 

Patton used one hand to twist open the bottle, not wanting to let go of Roman altogether. As he cleaned and wrapped Roman’s hands, he started to talk softly. “Please don’t hurt yourself, kiddo. I hate seeing you hurt. I just don’t know what we’d do without you, Ro.” Roman didn’t respond, just staring at Patton’s hands, not even flinching as Patton cleaned his cuts and pulled out bits of broken glass, so Patton just kept talking, murmuring any reassurances and promises he could think of. “You’re so amazing that sometimes we don’t even notice how wonderful you are until you remind us. You’re our constant. We love you.” Patton pressed a kiss to Roman’s hands every time he said they loved him. It meant that he took a lot longer to clean off Roman’s hands than he would have otherwise, but it was worth it. “I love you. I’m so proud of you. I’m proud of all you do, but I’m just proud of you. I’m glad and I’m proud that I get to know you. It really is going to be okay, kiddo. I know it’s hard and sometimes things are hard, but I promise you: it will be okay.”

Eventually, Roman’s hands were clean and wrapped. “Thank you, Pat,” he whispered, managing a weak smile. “I know.”

“Do you?”

Roman shrugged. “I think I will?” he offered. “I think I’m going to go to bed early.”

Patton swallowed heavily and nodded. “Okay, kiddo. Do you want me to stay?” Part of Patton, oh who was he kidding? All of Patton really wanted Roman to say yes. Patton always wanted to comfort his family, but it wasn’t just Roman who’d had a really hard day. Patton didn’t want to ask one of the others to take care of him, that wasn’t fair to them after everything he’d done and been doing, but if Roman would let him stay and hold him then maybe Patton could pretend that he was being held too. Even if everything was wrong and Patton was wrong, maybe Patton could convince himself that he was still wanted.

“I think I’m good, Pop,” Roman replied and Patton’s chest was so tight. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I really don’t mind staying-”

“I’m going to be okay, Patton. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Roman said in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring. Patton considered protesting again, but he didn’t want Roman to feel like he had to let Patton stay.

“Alright, slugger, if you’re sure,” Patton said, not looking at Roman. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Patton didn’t bother walking to the door, preferring to sink out. It was faster and easier and he didn’t have to admit that Roman really wanted him gone. He could pretend that he actually did hear Roman call, “Wait, Pat!” as he rose up in his own empty room.

Patton curled up on his bed, not bothering to change his clothes. He pulled a pillow close to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, pretending it was Roman or Logan or Virgil, pretending that it was someone who actually wanted him to hug them. 

He thought about that time Thomas had asked them all to say they loved each other. He’d gushed about how much he loved them like he always did because it was true. He loved them so much it hurt and at the time he’d brushed off how unwilling the others were to say it back as their discomfort at saying it on camera, but maybe it wasn’t. He’d mostly talked over Logan, but if he remembered right, Logan had barely managed to say their existence was good and even then it sounded like a lie. He was more willing to lie back then. Roman only said it after Patton scolded him. Virgil had actually come the closest to actually saying it back by asking if it could be an understood thing, but when Patton pointed that out he’d denied it. Maybe Patton pushed too much. Maybe he should act more like Logan, more professional, and treat the others like coworkers or friends instead of family to make them feel more comfortable. Patton imagined living like that. He almost threw up. He loved them with every part of himself and to pretend he didn’t would be denying his heart. The heart couldn’t deny his heart. He barely managed to keep from showing his bad emotions all the time as it was. He had to burden them with something and he’d rather burden them with his love than with his sadness.

~

It was okay. Patton was okay. He knew how bad repression could be now, they’d shown him that. It was bad for Thomas to not feel and engage with his feelings and he would never want to hurt Thomas! He laid back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He’d put glow stars up there when they were kids. Logan and Roman put glow stars up in their rooms too. They’d done it together when they were...eight? 

When they were ten, Logan started learning about the stars and how they weren’t random at all. He’d gushed for weeks about how amazing the real pattern of the sky was. He still would if anyone asked. No one ever did. Logan took the stars down two weeks after their tenth birthday.

When they were twelve Roman decided he wanted to paint a mural. He planned it for months and it was beautiful. Patton couldn’t begrudge him that. Roman took the stars down a week before they turned thirteen.

Now they were in their thirties and Patton still couldn’t bring himself to take down the stars. They were his stars. They represented the bond between him and Logan and Roman. He loved Virgil and he was part of Patton’s famILY, but it was Logan and Roman that Patton had never learned how to live without. When Patton was sure of himself and their bond, they glowed so bright that he couldn’t sleep without covering his face. 

Patton looked up at the dull pieces of plastic on his ceiling and tried not to cry.

~

When Virgil told Patton that he didn’t like the way Patton talked about him it felt like a kick in the face. All Patton wanted to do was show how much he loved Virgil and the other sides, but all he managed to do was hurt them. No matter how hard he tried, he always seemed to get it wrong. They knew he was trying though and Patton was pretty sure that counted for something. 

A few weeks after Patton started fixing the way he showed Virgil he loved him they were all eating breakfast and Patton was starkly reminded of just how much he needed to fix. 

Virgil was usually the last one of them to make his way downstairs in the morning unless Logan or Roman had been up all night working on a project. Hearing the tell-tale signs of his angsty son, Patton spun around with a bright grin on his face to greet him.

“Morning, kidd-” he caught himself. “Virgil! Morning, Virgil!” Patton didn’t let the smile fall from his face, but Virgil’s flinch at his greeting made him want to. Where he had been relaxed before Patton said anything, Virgil was stiff and awkward. He stumbled over to the table with Logan and Roman.

“Morning, Patton,” he mumbled as he passed by. “Morning, L. Morning, Princey,” he said as he leaned on the back of a chair, perking up noticeably. Patton swallowed heavily and went about his morning.

He made small talk with the other three as he finished up breakfast and they all prepared their plates. He smiled and laughed along with Roman’s stories and nodded along to Logan’s explanations and interjections. He didn’t say much of substance. Virgil didn’t say much at all. Eventually he sat down with the others and pretended he didn’t feel like he was walking through a minefield. He wanted to show his love in ways they appreciated, of course he did. They were just so vague about what they wanted and it was so hard.

...

“That sounds fun, Logan!”

Logan scoffed. “Really, Patton? I am not suggesting it for amusement. It is the most productive and therefore logical course of action.”

“Right.”

…

“Oh wow! That’s great, Roman!”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I appreciate the compliment, Pat, but it’s nowhere near finished. The completed project will be nothing like what I’ve described.”

“Right, yeah.”

…

“That’s so sweet of you, Virgil!”

“I’m not sweet.”

“No, of course not.”

…

“Did you have good dreams last night, kiddo?”

“Yeah, I slept fine, Pat.”

“Okay.”

…

“Thanks, little shadow!”

“Seriously, Pops?”

“Just joking, Virge.”

…

“And Logan’s just smart.”

“And what about me?”

“Well, you’re - you’re… Patton!”

“Oh, I- Aww, thanks, Roman!”

… 

“I’ll clean up, kiddos. Don’t worry about it!”

…

Then Patton was alone. He didn’t mind being alone so much. When he was alone he could play out elaborate scenarios in his head and not worry about how the others would react. He could pretend they were all waiting for him and that they would tell him nice things and hug him. He could pretend a lot of things when he was alone.

Patton did the dishes.

~

It was fine. He was fine. Everything was fine. He was a good person. Patton didn’t say nice things so that he would hear nice things back. He said nice things because he believed them and he loved the people he said them about. He was a good person.

Who was he kidding? Patton was a terrible person. He only pretended to be nice so that he could be complimented and when it didn’t work he was resentful. He was an awful, terrible, bad person who didn’t deserve all the nice things he had. He was a bad person. He was!

“Well, this certainly isn’t concerning.”

Patton sat up like a shot at the sound of someone in his room. Janus was standing in his doorway that hadn’t been open a minute ago. He looked like he was trying really hard not to fidget.

“Can I come in?” Janus asked tentatively. Patton nodded and Janus stepped into his room, closing the door behind him. He walked over hesitantly, but sat down on the bed by Patton when Patton gestured for him to.

“Is there something I can help you with, Janus?” Patton asked, trying to pretend that Janus hadn’t walked in on him crying.

“You can tell me why you’re lying to yourself.”

Patton stiffened. “Right. I was doing that. It’s okay, I stopped now.”

Janus raised his eyebrows. “You stopped telling yourself that you’re a bad person who only pretends to be nice?” he asked. “Because from what I could tell, you still were while I was standing at your door.”

Patton scowled. “That’s not the lie and you know it.”

Janus sighed heavily. “No, Patton. I don’t know that. Even when I couldn’t stand you, I didn’t think that you were faking being nice. I think being a good person is subjective, but there is absolutely no argument that you are not nice. There is no argument that you are not selfless and loving. I can absolutely argue with you over if those are good things, but they are true.”

“I don’t think I believe you,” Patton whispered.

Janus winced. “You really think I’d lie about something like this?”

“Maybe.” Patton shrugged. “I believe you believe it,” he offered.

“Look, Patton, we’ve never been close. Talk to the others. Let them tell you if you won’t hear it from me. You tell them you love them all the time. It’s high time they made you know too.”

“No!” Patton yelped before he could stop himself. “I mean, you know I can’t do that. I can’t turn my love into an obligation for them. I’m burdening them enough by loving them the way I do and not asking for anything back. I can’t put that on them.”

“What are you talking about? They already love you.”

Patton sighed. “Janus, I’m Morality. What’s the Golden Rule of morality that we all learned as kids?”

“Treat others the way you want to be treated,” Janus responded without thinking. “Oh.”

Patton breathed out a soft laugh. “Yeah.” He tipped his head back to look at the ceiling again. “Either I go against the simplest part of Morality and keep letting myself get hurt or I go against the part of Morality that I can’t let go of and hurt them for my sake.”

“I don’t think you’d be hurting them. I think they don’t realise. I think they’d be a lot more hurt if they knew you thought so little of them that you’d let yourself be hurt so as not to inconvenience them.”

“That’s a nice thought.”

“Dammit, Patton,” Janus growled. “Tell them or I will.”

Patton just kept looking at his stars.

“I can make you tell them,” Janus admitted, slightly choked up. “I can make you tell the truth as easily as I can make you hide it.”

“I don’t think I could forgive you for that.”

“Then don’t make me do it.”

~

Janus had left after that. Disappearing just like Virgil used to. Patton stared at his ceiling for a while longer. Janus thought he was a good person. Well, Janus thought that Patton was Patton’s definition of a good person. Maybe talking to his famILY would be good. Maybe it wouldn’t. 

Patton paused as an idea came to him. He wouldn’t tell them. He wouldn’t seek them out. But… maybe next time they asked, he wouldn’t lie.

~

A week went by and nothing changed. Patton kept smiling and sometimes it wasn’t even forced. Roman told his stories and Logan pretended he didn’t love them. Virgil complained about everything, but in a way that sounded more like he was complimenting them. Logan shared his ideas and Patton made sure everyone listened. Sure maybe some of it was Patton’s guilt for skipping Logan in that one video, but most of it was just that Patton believed all his kiddos deserved to be heard. Janus popped in from time to time and gave Patton pointed looks. Remus barreled in every so often and dragged them all off on an adventure that they ended up enjoying more than they thought they would. A week went by and nothing changed.

They were at dinner. It seemed that dinner was the only time the four of them all talked anymore. It was always some grouping of them the rest of the time. Dinner was going...badly. From Patton’s perspective at least.

Roman had been flippant and dismissive of Patton’s attempts to compliment him. Virgil had been getting increasingly frustrated with every word out of Patton’s mouth. The more the two of them carelessly shut him down, the more outlandish his comments started to become just so they’d look at him for a few moments. Logan didn’t like outlandish comments. Logan started snapping at him when Patton would speak up. Patton stopped talking.

The other three continued their conversation for about an hour. Patton didn’t say a word. He didn’t eat either. No one noticed either.

“Pat, what do you think?” Virgil asked, turning to Patton. “Pat?”

Patton stiffened. He shook his head frantically, not trusting himself with an open mouth.

“Patton?” Logan asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “What’s wrong?” 

“I love you all so much,” Patton choked out. “I love you all so much it hurts and I keep hurting you with it and I’m so sorry! I know that’s not good enough, but I can’t stop!”

“Patton, no,” Logan breathed. “Patton, you are not hurting us.”

“I am,” Patton insisted. “I try to listen to you but I never understand and I just end up being a distraction. I can never tell Roman how much I love him in a way that sounds true. I keep telling Virgil I care the wrong way. You know all this, Logan. You know it’s true.”

“It doesn’t matter, Pat,” Virgil snapped. “I care more that you’re trying than if you’re succeeding.”

“That’s not even the worst part,” Patton whispered. “Nevermind,” he said quickly, cutting himself off.

“Pat, please,” Roman choked on his words. “Please talk to us.”

“I want to be told you love me too,” Patton said so softly they barely heard it. “You don’t have to,” he promised. “But sometimes I like to be- never mind.”

“Complimented?” Virgil guessed. “Like you always do for us?” Patton nodded.

“Hugged?” Roman added hesitantly. Patton didn’t look at him, but he nodded.

“Listened to,” Logan finished. Patton stared at the table, but he managed to nod.

“I’m so-”

Virgil cut him off with a hesitant grin. “If you apologize again, I’m going to physically fight you. If you keep talking bad about yourself, I’m going to physically fight you.”

Patton laughed. “Please don’t fight me.” He frowned, his eyes drifting back down to the table. “I know you don’t like it when I call you sweet and I’m trying not to anymore, but I…”

“But it’s hard?” Virgil guessed. “I know. I really appreciate what you’ve done and I-”

“Not what I was going to say, Virgil,” Patton said softly. “Respecting your boundaries is never going to be too much of an effort. I was just going to say where my boundaries are.” Patton took a deep breath and held it. “I like it? I like it when you all call me sweet.” he huffed a laugh. “That’s kind of what I’m trying for.”

Patton looked over at Roman with a smile. “You said I was the ‘sweetest puffball we got’ and I don’t know how you meant it, but I really liked that.”

Patton turned his now-blinding smile on Logan. “You called me adorable and to be honest, Lo? It was adorable.”

“You remember what we said?” Logan asked abruptly.

Patton’s smile widened. “Of course I do! I wrote them all down so I couldn’t forget. Those two are at the top of my Logan and Roman lists. Pop-star’s at the top of my Virgil list.”

“I am going to come up with so many names that you’re going to need to start a whole notebook just to keep up with my list.” Roman’s gaze was steely and he looked almost threatening. “I am going to hug you so much that you’ll be sick of me.”

Patton was going to burst. “I’ll never be sick of you!” he cooed.

“I will make a more visible and concentrated effort to listen to your contributions,” Logan promised. “I can’t promise that we will always agree, but I can promise that I will listen and hear you.”

Patton’s eyes were soft as he looked at Logan. “I’m okay with being wrong, Logan. I just want you to hear me.”

“I do hear you Patton. I’m sorry I don’t do it often enough.”

“Oh, Logan, no!” Patton looked at Logan in horror. “It’s okay. You don’t need to be sorry.”

Logan sighed fondly. “If you want to forgive me then that is up to you, but it’s not okay and I do have reason to apologize.”

“As do I,” Roman added. “I have been taking your affection for granted. I will not continue.”

“So do I,” Virgil mumbled. “I’m not sorry for setting boundaries because you’ve taught me that that’s okay, but I am sorry for brushing you off and not showing you that I care about you and appreciate you.”

“Thank you,” Patton said wetly.

Logan took a breath. “This is difficult for me and I apologize if it sounds insincere. I love you, Patton. You don’t always make my job easier, which can be frustrating, but you make it enjoyable.”

“Thank you, Lo.” Patton’s damp eyes started to drip. “Happy tears,” he clarified at the others’ looks of concern. “You don’t have to-”

Logan cut off any protest that Patton could make. “You’re worth it.”

“You make us a family, Pat,” Roman declared. “You are what makes us more than the sum of our parts.”

Patton was full on sobbing now.

Virgil stood up from his seat. He let his arms fall open at his sides. “Come here.” 

Patton dove into Virgil’s arms, his wet face soaking through his hoodie in a matter of minutes. Roman instantly sprang from his seat to wrap himself around Patton’s back and pull the other two into his arms. Roman was warm and his grip was steady and Patton felt like he could take on the world if he did it while he was in Roman’s arms.

Logan stood awkwardly and made his way over to them, standing about a foot away from Patton’s side.

“Logan, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Patton called, his voice muffled by Virgil’s hoodie.

“I know I just agreed to start listening to you more, but I believe I can be forgiven in this one circumstance.” Logan stepped forward wrapping his arms around Patton and resting his chin in Patton’s hair. “Shut your ever-flapping gobtalker.”

Virgil snorted which caused Roman to laugh. Logan simply smiled and held them tighter as Patton’s giggles rang out above them all.

taglists from @the-taglist-repository

Patton-centric

@thatgaydemigodnerd

LAMP

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platonic LAMP

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Sanders Sides

@katelynn-a-fan @ananonsplace @ollyollyoxinfree @brain-deadx0 @grouptalekindnesssoul​ @the-hoely-bleach​ @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun

Hurt/Comfort

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Patton Angst

@prinxietyforever

Let me know if I’ve tagged you and you don’t want to be tagged for my fics or if you think that the category/taglist you are on does not apply to this story

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#sanders sides fic #sanders sides #patton sanders #patton angst #logan sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #platonic lamp #familial lamp #i need a writing tag #negative self talk tw #negative self image tw #remind me why i fell in love with happy endings

[asotin]

what're your thoughts on castlevania (the netflix show, not the game, ive never played the game) what do you like, what don't you like? make it as long as you want. i don't care if i have to scroll for 5 minutes. go feral (personally trevor is extremely hot and i would like to date sypha. i'm not really into alucard's whole sickly victorian child aesthetic, yknow?)

oh god this is way too long, but you did say to make it as long as i want, and i have a lot of thoughts that i need to inflict on the world

i played two castlevania games, both from the nintendo gameboy era, so please don’t get mad at me, gamers

details below the cut, but since i’ll be talking about season three, i need to preface this with content warnings for mentions of: graphic violence, rape and sexual violence, racism, and the holocaust

before i get into it, i usually don’t go for alucard-type characters either, but knowing that he was redesigned to be bishounen sexy specifically because the boring, middle aged man look he originally had in the games wasn’t appealing makes me enjoy him. and he’s fun with trevor and sypha

do like:

the voice acting

it’s all good. i can’t think of any characters whose voices were awkward or fit poorly. they don't make sypha’s va use the standard flat affect or false high voice women tend to be assigned, trevor sounds suitably worn out but not monotone, and alucard sounds exhausted but in a sexy way

and the spanish dub is killer, arguably superior

the animation & design

it isn’t full-on artsy, but it’s definitely got a distinctive style that’s easy to look at. the color use and effects are gorgeous. it’s a story set in the medieval era, and the mixture of desaturated and oversaturated elements works so well with that

dracula’s castle and the belmont bunker aren't revolutionary in design, but they didn't need to be. they're suitably creepy and empty, and i enjoyed them

the monsters were unique enough to have obvious different types, and the scene where a monster commits blasphemy in a church by accusing a priest of committing blasphemy was good writing

lisa

she shows up to a stranger’s spooky home and scolds him for being rude. she really looked an ancient vampire in the face, told him he had no manners, then had a kid with him. what a phenomenal woman. 11/10, no notes

“start with me, and i’ll start with you.” you know what? i’d fall in love, too

dracula

this ancient, unfriendly vampire let a human woman walk into his home and tell him he’s got no manners. and that made him fall in love with her. just like that. lisa walked in and handed him his ass, and dracula thought “oh i love her”. and when she was killed (more on this in the bad section), he raised literal hell to destroy the world for doing it

speaking of lisa being killed, it fucks me up that it happened because she convinced him to leave the castle and experience the world. he left her alone to see what she loved so much, only to come back and find that the people he’d come to like- the people lisa had loved so much it drove her to help in a way that got her killed- had burned her at the stake. i love a good tragedy, and that’s good tragedy

the way he weeps when he has to fight alucard?? during a showdown in their home?? the “i must already be dead” moment in alucard’s childhood bedroom??? when he speaks to lisa about killing their boy, her greatest gift to him??? poetic cinema.

the trio’s dynamic

three bisexuals with two total brain cells and only alucard bothers using them. incredible

i went so hard for this ot3. it's right there and so good

sypha

she initially seems to be assigned the role of the adult™️ ie she's the only woman and gets stuck being responsible, but surprise! she’s just as annoying and dumb as alucard and trevor. she dropped a castle she didn’t understand on the ground and didn’t think too hard about it. then she argued about breaking it. i love her

if we don’t get an ot3, then she needs to have a dumb gf

alucard

he's got a stupidly low neckline and lower pants. they really leaned into ayami kojima’s redesign, as they should have. his little curl annoys me, though. why the fuck does he have a random section of hair that’s like three inches long when the rest is shoulder length or longer? love that he really looks like lisa

if you say he's canonically bisexual and polyamorous, no he isn't. yes he is. no he isn't :)

trevor

disgusting. a nasty man whose appearance mirrors his state of mind. he's 50 mental illnesses in a dirty jacket and his coping mechanism is… alcohol? maybe? he’s a mess, and i dig it

him trying his trick of kneeing alucard in the balls during their fight? and finding out it doesn't work? (which…… why doesn't it……?) juvenile but suitable

hector

his love of animals makes him my favorite. normally, i won’t touch anything with this much animal death, but i’m willing to set that aside because hector loves them so much. he’s so sweet and kind, and he loves his monster pets

yes he sided with dracula and has some really fucked up ideas about what constitutes humane treatment of people, and yet i love him. 11/10, but i have a lot of notes

isaac

i support him, including his murdering and his decision to support dracula. dracula throwing him out of the castle to save him was so cruel in that it was an attempt at kindness from a man who hated the whole world, but it was against isaac’s wishes

his time with the captain was great

idk enough about islam to know if he's portrayed correctly and haven’t seen any complaints, but given the show’s track record……… i wouldn’t be surprised if it’s not great

the forging

very cool. fresh and interesting! hector creating pet friends is cute and heartbreaking. love isaac for his dedication to reducing, reusing, and recycling

season 2’s big battle with all those vampires

the new version of “bloody tears” is phenomenal

this goes back to the animation, but listen……. it's so good. i loved the smoke vampire, and alucard’s fluid wolf transformations. his flying sword looked really good, and incorporating them together? super good to watch. and trevor’s whip?

the type and level of violence are suitable for what it is. it would be weird for a gritty show like this to be bloodless, but i don't think it would work if it were bloody to the extent of a slasher. it's also more clean violence, if that makes sense. you don’t linger just to look at gore; you see it because stabbing someone spills blood. the games weren't about extended, gritty scenes of realistic murder, so the show sticking with quick, slice and dice type fights fit with what i remembered of them

please watch this fight if you don’t remember it or haven’t seen it (part 1, part 2)

trevor’s whips

trevor’s weapons don’t follow the physics of normal whips, and they shouldn't. they’re heavily stylized and clearly a fantasy weapon, but they still have rules that they (mostly) have to obey. his morning star-whip hybrid in particular is so good 

it’s easy to follow, too. a lot of times, speedy weapons disappear, which is an understandable effect but one i find boring because there’s nothing for me to do. i’m just sitting on my ass with nothing to do

trevor’s whips don’t disappear. they’re fast, but you can always see them. and they have weight! you can see them slow down and gain speed. i don’t need physics to be real; i want movement to be pleasing, and that’s exactly what i get with the whips

don’t like:

fridging lisa

she could have been kidnapped (possibly make dracula think she was dead bc people want to lure out her scary demon husband, idk), then s2 could have ended with her and dracula reuniting as he died. she and alucard go on a trip together to attempt to make amends for the pain dracula wrought in lisa’s name. orrrr she dies a tragic death with him and we’re left to hope that they find each other in the afterlife. do vampires get to go to the afterlife? can alucard reintegrate? can he be happy with his new friends? or will he go back to his crypt and sleep again? will he ever be rediscovered? if so, what will he do? deep questions. i would prefer to cogitate on these instead of experiencing the shitshow that is s3

season 3

they should have ended it with dracula’s death. the quality of storytelling goes down immediately. just plummets. i’m sure there were problems in the first two seasons, but this one is so bad, i genuinely can’t remember

but i may as well get specific, so here we go:

abandoning alucard

trevor and sypha leave their friend alone in his childhood home where he just killed his father. where they helped him kill his father who, as i’ve said too many times, raised literal hell to get revenge for people burning alucard’s mother to death

yt they don’t talk about alucard. they don’t make any plans to touch base ever again. trevor’s entire family got killed. sypha’s culture, from which she’s now estranged, is family-centric. if ever two people should give a shit about alucard and know why alucard shouldn’t be left on his own, it's them

so what the hell is going on?

trevor and sypha’s relationship

look. it could be good. it would be better with alucard but they could be together and it could work fine

but this……….

trevor hates what they're doing. he hates traveling around and fighting. he's clearly tired and deeply depressed

sypha not only doesn't care enough to address it (did they forget the first two seasons?? sypha is annoying partly because she doesn't stop poking people) she might not even notice? yes, she's having fun, but trevor is basically dead on his feet in front of her

racism

hector, sumi, and taka all got done dirty 

sumi and taka

i hate the way they died. i hate that i’m certain that the plot won’t bring japan back into the narrative (or if it does, i don’t trust it not to be shitty). i hate the fact that by killing them off, i’m not going to get any more of them. they were interesting!!

speaking of the japanese vampire: the biphobia, arguably, given what happens with alucard

the addition of sexual violence

i don’t need or want lenore. if all she’d done was manipulate hector, i could have lived with that. she’s a villain, so she does bad things. that’s the point. but what she did was a massive escalation. we hadn’t had any sexual violence, and then the last few episodes gave us 

tumblr feminists who love her for how she treated hector need to be quarantined until their brain worms have been cured

everything that happens to hector

what was this shit? why did i open my netflix app and tap castlevania and find them making this man walk around naked in the cold to torture him? and starving him? he got manipulated, degraded, chained up, collared like an animal, and raped. and why? to show us how bad lenore is? that the other vampires are bad because they let her do it? i didn’t sign up for this

the holocaust reference

the imagery at the end of s3 when it’s revealed that the judge has been killing people he’s decided are undeserving to live and collecting their shoes in that barn was chillingly close to images of shoes taken from victims of the holocaust. there's no reason to invoke the holocaust here. it’s unnecessary and in bad taste

#asks #anonymous #long post #anti-castlevania netflix #i guess #cw rape #cw holocaust mention #cw racism #cw holocaust #all of these are tags i didn't anticipate using on my stupid sideblog #i'll probably find a bunch of typos in like 12 hours rip me #but i feel bad for taking so long

[ssidesblog]

frame the halves and call them brothers

remus centric, 2,935 wc, ao3

remus meets janus, who proceeds to psychoanalyze him (and virgil is exhausted)

Remus did not wake up early. Or rather, he didn’t like waking up early, not usually. But that morning, Remus woke up with an excited buzz despite the fact he was awake before 8am on a Saturday. He rushed to get dressed, slipping on a flannel that was two sizes too big and had rips in the wrong places, a pair of black pants (the ones Patton loved to describe as his church pants since they were so ‘holey’), and his pair of blue ladder laced Doc Martens. Looking at himself in the mirror he couldn’t help but grin. Contrary to popular belief, Remus took a great deal of pride in his appearance, and to him, looking like the definition of the word ‘punk’ made him very content and happy. 

His mom sat at the kitchen table, already in her uniform for one of her jobs. Remus walked over to her and bent down to plant a kiss on her cheek. 

“Good morning, sweetheart.” She greeted him. 

“Morning.” He replied with a smile that showed off his chipped tooth. 

“You’re extra excitable this morning.” She commented and stood from her seat. 

“What can I say, I love facing the consequences of my actions.” Remus said, opening a granola bar and following his mom to the front door. She rolled her eyes with a chuckle and grabbed her keys from the hook by the door.  The ride to the school was quiet. Remus knew she was still pissed at him, even more so at Virgil and was not excited for him to be around the kid who beat him up. They pulled up to the school and just as Remus opened the door to leave she spoke. 

“Please behave yourself, mijo.”  She sounded exhausted and looked the part as well. Remus’s stomach knotted when he realized just how tired her whole existence was. He nodded, not trusting himself to talk, and left the car. He watched her pull away with a sort of sadness. He quickly shook away whatever he was feeling and entered the high school. He walked into the gym where Mr. Young was waiting along with a few other students. Remus noted he didn’t see Virgil, meaning he was early to something for once. He sat down on the bleachers and shortly after Virgil walked in with someone Remus vaguely recognized from a few of his classes. The two walked over to Remus. 

“I just don’t understand how you can be stupid enough to also get detention.” Virgil said to the kid next to him. 

“I don’t think it’s fair,” The other person spoke, “Writing on the bathroom stalls shouldn’t result in this kind of punishment.” 

“You wrote ‘fuck 12’, Janus, what the hell did you think would happen?” Virgil asked incredulously. 

“Well I didn’t think I would get caught.” The kid, Janus, replied in a grumble. 

“You making fun of me for being a wannabe punk when your boyfriend acts like that is kinda fucked up, Hot Topic.” Remus said, inserting himself into the conversation. Virgil gagged while the other kid made a face of pure disgust.

“Never say that ever again, we’re brothers.” Virgil said. 

“Oh, fuck, sorry I couldn’t really tell,” Remus said looking from one to the other, “I’m guessing you’re step brothers or something?” 

“Actually, we’re twins, I just happened to get all the melanin,” Janus stated and then gestured to the left side of his face where splotches of pale skin stood in a contrast to the rest of his dark complexion, “Virge did have some kind of influence though.” 

 Remus nodded in understanding and Virgil looked at him with a scrutinizing gaze. 

“Please tell me you don’t actually believe that.” Virgil spoke in a desperate tone. Remus laughed a little too hard. 

“I know I’m dumb but I’m not stupid.” Remus said. Virgil put his head in his hands and mumbled something Remus interpreted as ‘I want to go home’. He lifted his head and looked from Janus to Remus. He leaned closer to Remus and lowered his voice. 

“My brother kinda hates you for punching me.” 

“It’s ok,” Remus spoke in a similar hushed tone, “My brother hates me for punching you, too.” Virgil raised his eyebrow but didn’t question any further, to which Remus was thankful. Roman wasn’t a fun topic to talk about unless Remus was making fun of him and right now, even thinking about him was making him upset. 

“Ok, kids,” Mr. Young addressed the less than 10 people in the room, “Each of you will be cleaning up the campus. We have proctors all around campus so don’t do anything that will get you into even more trouble. Come grab a trash bag and gloves and hop to it.” He gestured to the pile of garbage bags and boxes of gloves. Each of the kids shuffled over and grabbed their supplies. 

Once they were outside, Remus, Virgil, and Janus stuck together and picked up the same area in relative silence. Remus bent down to pick up a half eaten sandwich when he noticed Janus’s shoes; blue ladder laced Doc Martens. He grinned and fully stood up. 

“You killed a cop, too?” Remus practically shouted the question and gained the attention of the two boys, along with a few bewildered looks from surrounding students. 

“Excuse me?!” Virgil asked, his voice going up an octave or two. Janus looked down at Remus’s boots and then his own, a knowing look on his face. 

“Seeing as how this little shit,” Janus nodded in the direction of Virgil, “Beat the fuck out of you, I seriously doubt you killed a cop.” Remus barked out a laugh. 

“Half-pint has some moves you wouldn’t believe.” Remus pointed to his tooth and Janus moved closer to get a better look. 

“The little raccoon did that?” He asked with amusement in his voice. Remus nodded. 

“He pulled my head back and smashed my face into the ground,” Remus recounted the moment with a sense of nostalgia in his voice, “My mouth just so happened to be open.” 

“You don’t sound angry about it.” 

“Because I’m not,” The grin in his voice was evident, “I’ve always wanted to get into a fight and now I have a way of remembering it.” Janus gave a small smile and Remus counted that as a win. 

“Is your nose ok?” Virgil asked. 

“It’s fine, kid, no need to feel guilty.” Remus reassured him. It was feeling a whole lot better than the day before, the bruising made it look a lot worse than it felt. 

“I still can’t believe you did that, bub.” Janus spoke with pride as he ruffled Virgil’s hair, “I raised you well.” 

“You’re barley even a year older than me shut the fuck up.” Virgil’s voice didn’t actually hold any malice. 

“Oh, you’re older than us?” Remus asked, adding, “I could have sworn I’ve seen you in some of my classes.” 

“Oh, no me and you are the same age,” Janus said with a shit eating grin on his face, “V here skipped a grade so he’s a little baby.” Janus had turned on his baby voice and squished Virgil’s face. 

“Get the fuck away from me.” Virgil said and swatted his hands away. 

“Awww, little piss baby.” Remus cooed. 

“I hate both of you so much.” Virgil said, giving each of them a pointed look. 

“You know you love me.” Janus said and wrapped his arms around his younger brother, swaying a little from side to side. Virgil mumbled something into his shirt that made Janus chuckle. Remus watched them and felt a little part of his chest ache. 

“You’re not so bad, Remus.” Janus said, letting go of Virgil. 

“I’m all sorts of bad, but I appreciate it.” Remus said. 

They finished cleaning with a lot more talking and joking around. Remus felt happy having people to interact with who were brand new to his life. It was like a breath of fresh air. Once they were dismissed, Remus walked to the front of the school with the two brothers. 

“Do you wanna go over to the gas station?” Janus asked him. 

“I don’t have any money on me.” Remus said, shifting on his feet. 

“Don’t worry about it, V can buy you a slushie.” Janus said, already walking in the direction of the nearby 7/11. 

“Why do I have to buy it?” 

“You’re the one who beat the shit out of him, it’s the least you can do.” Janus said and winked to Remus. He snorted. Janus looked over at him and squinted, searching for something in his face. 

“I’m flattered, really, but it’s awfully rude to stare.” Remus said. 

“You look familiar.” Janus mumbled. Then his face lit up, “You do theatre, right?” Remus groaned. 

“No, that’s my brother.” He couldn’t help the disgust evident in his voice. 

“Oh, are you two twins?” He asked. 

“Sadly, yes.” Remus responded. 

“You don’t seem very fond of him.” Remus bit the inside of his cheek. 

“We just have a complicated history.” He said. Virgil and Janus both raised an eyebrow and maybe Janus’s joke about them being twins wasn’t too far off. 

“Aren’t twins supposed to be, like, super close and shit?” Virgil asked. 

“Virgil.” Janus said his name like a warning. 

“No, it’s fine, Roman and I are just,” Remus paused to think of a way to describe their dichotomy, “different. He’s the golden boy and I’m clearly not.” Remus said and gestured to himself. 

“Comparison creates a divide and causes nothing but harm.” Janus told him. 

“That’s the thing,” Remus was starting to get angry, “I was never the one to start comparing. It was our dad who always favored Roman. Roman who does nothing for himself; he people pleases and has no sense of an actual identity. But because he can follow the rules he’s the good twin.” Remus hit the crosswalk button harder than necessary. 

“You seem a lot more interesting.” Virgil said 

“Agreed.” Remus gritted through his teeth. 

“So then, why are you jealous of him?” Janus asked. Remus turned to him. 

“I’m not jealous of him.” 

“Yes you are.” He stated

“Janus likes to psychoanalyze everyone.” Virgil informed Remus. The crosswalk flashed the little picture of the man walking and the three boys imitated the motion.

 Remus thought about what Janus said as the two boys started a conversation of their own. Was he jealous of Roman? There was no way. Roman was self absorbed and egotistical, but only on surface level. He and Roman may not get along too well but they knew each other like the back of their hand. Remus knew how insecure Roman was, always scared of losing his good image, letting himself hide away parts of himself to look less weird. Remus was happier, Remus was unabashedly himself. So, why was he jealous of Roman?

“You ok, Rem?” Virgil asked, successfully gaining his attention. 

“Oh, uh, yeah I’m fine.” Remus responded. Virgil nodded and followed Janus inside the 7/11. Remus walked in after him. 

“What flavor do you want?” Virgil asked, grabbing a cup and a lid. 

“Mix the blue and the Coke.” Virgil made an audible noise of disgust but complied. He wandered over to the chip aisle and Remus went to the back where Janus looked at the cold drinks. 

“You never answered my question.” Janus spoke, not taking his eyes away from the energy drinks in front of him. 

“I don’t really have an answer for you, I don’t know why I am. If you asked my therapist it probably has something to do with my dad.” 

“That’s what all therapists say.” Janus opened the case and crouched down, picking up two cans of Monster. 

“I mean, they aren’t wrong, dads are just like that.” Remus accepted one of the cans. 

“I wouldn’t know, I grew up with two moms.” 

“That’s why you’re so put together, no trauma of having a father.” Remus said. Janus laughed and Remus decided it was one of the prettiest sounds he’d ever heard. 

“Why do you need a Monster if you also have a slushie?” Virgil asked, exasperated. 

“Extra energy.” He replied, handing him the drink. Virgil rolled his eyes and went up to the counter. 

“I don’t think Roman is as boring as you think.” Janus said. 

“You know him?” Remus asked. 

“I’ve spoken with him a few times, he’s very active in theatre and so am I.”

“So you knew I wasn’t him?” Remus asked. 

“He’s interesting in his own way,” Janus avoided Remus’s question, “I think you need to give him a chance.” 

“Easy for you to say, you and Virgil seem like perfect siblings.” Remus knew he sounded bratty but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“When I first met him, I absolutely hated him,” Janus started, “I was 11 and suddenly I had a younger brother. I was in a new home and the only familiar part of my life was my mom and even then she had split her time between me and Virgil. I didn’t want anything to do with him. I thought he was weird and too quiet. Poor kid just had anxiety and me and my mom moving in did nothing to help. I had to give him a chance and once I did, we found we were similar in our own ways, but more importantly, we were different. Now, I can’t imagine a life where he isn’t my brother.” Remus looked at Janus in awe. 

“Give Roman a chance, he may be completely different than you but what’s so bad about that?” Janus gave him a smile that on anyone else would look disingenuous but with him it was the most open expression Remus had ever seen on anyone. Remus could only nod. 

“Is J getting all philosophical on you?” Virgil joined Remus’s side as Janus went to pay, “I keep telling him not to do that to people. He’s so weird.” There was a smile on his face as he spoke, as if just the mention of his brother made him happy. 

“You’re one to talk.” Remus knocked Virgil’s shoulder with his own. 

“I know the kid who brought a worm into class, claiming it to be his pet is not lecturing me about being weird right now.” Virgil said and Remus laughed. 

“I forgot about that, I miss that little guy.”  Virgil rolled his eyes with a certain fondness in his expression. He handed Remus his drinks as Janus joined the two. They walked back to the front of the school to wait for Virgil and Janus’s mom. 

“It was nice meeting you, Remus, we should hang out again.” Janus said as a way of goodbye. Virgil waved and off the two boys were. Remus stood up and started his walk to his house. He didn’t live too far away and was at his house in less than 20 minutes. He entered the house and found Roman sitting in the living room, watching something on TV. 

“Didn’t detention get out like, an hour and a half ago?” Roman asked and eyed the slushie and can of Monster in his hand, a sort of sadness in his eyes. 

“I went to 7/11 with Emo and Janus.” He said and walked over to him. 

“You know Janus?” Roman asked in surprise. 

“I met him today, those two are actually brothers.” Remus laughed at Roman’s disbelieving expression. “I know, it’s a small world.” He handed Roman the Monster. He took it hesitantly. 

“I’m glad you had fun.” He said and opened the drink. They were quiet for a few minutes, Remus joining him on the couch and half paying attention to what Roman had put on the TV (it was Hannah Montana; he only watched that when he needed a distraction). 

“Why were you so mad when I got into that fight?” Remus finally asked. Roman chewed on his lip in thought before finally responding, voice soft. 

“Because I didn’t want you to get hurt. And I didn’t want you doing something you would regret and beat yourself up about later.” Remus felt a pang in his heart. 

“You saying you actually care about me?” Remus meant for it to come out as a joke, but the way his voice cracked and went quieter just made it sound pathetic. 

“Of course I care about you, you’re my brother.” 

Remus took in a deep breath and sipped from his drink. 

“I’m sorry.” He said after a pause. 

“Dude, are you ok?” Roman’s voice was filled with worry. Remus managed a breathy laugh. 

“Yeah, I am. Thank you for the concern, Ro,” Remus smiled at him, “It means a lot.” Remus kept his voice low so it wouldn’t crack, so it wouldn’t push pressure on his throat, so he wouldn’t cry. Roman nodded and turned back towards the TV. 

Remus knew it was going to be hard. Roman had always been this ideal his dad set for him, more of an idea than a person. And Remus thought, maybe, he’d always hold some kind of resentment towards him. But Janus was right. Roman was different in almost every way, but he was still himself. In the same way Remus was himself. Eventually, he would come to accept that, but for now, Remus was content watching Hannah Montana on their couch, on the verge of tears, Roman’s head somewhere else entirely. They were a collective mess of trauma but at the end of the day they were still brothers and Remus couldn’t imagine it any other way. 

#remus sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders angst #creativtwins angst #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #hs au #remus and janus use the lace code #blue means acab/killed a cop #remus and janus are literally the whole 'gay kids meet each other and after 5 minutes overshare' #virgil and jnaus being brothers is my favorite thing btw #this fic was suppossed to b way fluffier #and only suppossed to b virgil janus and remus #but i have an idea for a fic w just the three of them #and it wont have heavy angst lol