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cabin-13 · 4 years

Note

u said self indulgent nico hcs?? 👀👀

ajkdsjkkj when I say self-indulgent, it’s Self-Indulgent and i pretty much ignore richard’s canon / haven't reread the books from either series in a long time nor have i read toa but if ur really interested... (long post ahead, sorry!)

nb nico is top tier

goes by he/they pronouns

touristcore aesthetic that’s slowly encroaching into e-person territory

he’s The Blueprint

likes thorn from the hex girls (even the reboot ver.) but digs dusk’s look more

how is this related u may ask?

yeah, i answer

idc abt canon so he and drew are bitchy friends and drew rags on his appearance constantly while brushing his hair but throws in self-care tips btwn loving insults

nico: you know im not a boy right

drew: doesnt change the fact you look like a wet rat, sweetie <3

i will forever stand by reynico being (platonic) soulmates and im gonna b extra self-indulgent and say they were friends in previous lives too and that’s why they vibed w each other so well <3

speaking of previous lives, well.... heh..

(no but really, this hc is kinda embarassing but , if u want elaboration uhhhhhhhhhh)

i know nico only has like. a 5th grade education but i like to think he would be a good student ... if anything i think hades would at least homeschool him with the ghosts of (famous) teachers ??? he seems to be naturally curious and he’s kind of a smart ass (not in a mean way) in canon idk

polyglot nico! polyglot nico! polyglot nico!!!! he becomes the go-to translator at camp ( like he isn't already sjkjskjdk)

yes he would know asl. why? bc i said so and rick needs to include include some hoh/deaf characters within the greek/roman pantheon <3 (if there is, not counting hearthstone from mcga)

leo finds out abt nico knowing spanish bc he once snorted at a joke he said and now leo won’t stop telling him shit like “¿cuál es la fruta que más se ríe? .... la naranja, ja, ja, ja --”

ironically has the best hair at chb (rick once said the di angelos had silky hair in the titan’s curse i think + reyna said something abt his hair too in boo ?? i'll have to check...) once he cleans up and the aphrodite kids are seething

nico’s hair starting to gray at a young age is also an interesting concept ! i think tumblr user fuocogo drew something ft that and it stuck with me

really self indulgent but he’s roman at heart (maybe even Literally. i read somewhere that an italian fan said the di angelos fit the desc. of modern day romans better than venicians ?? if i find it, i’ll link it >>>)

i like to think his family are legacies of victoria seeing as he’s always one of the key pieces / an important informant for winning both wars ... plus his grandpa was a diplomat and uhhh idk where I was going w this ngl

speaking of family, I need to know if the di angelo bloodline no longer exists assuming maria was an only child and there was no mention of any other di angelos aside from her parents ..? i like the idea of nico finding out that he has more family tho !!

also I would love it if rick cleared up where and when he met maria pls and thank u <3

I MISS BABY NICO’S PERSONALITY SM ... which is why i propose that whenever one of his friend’s see his eyes sparkling and arms waving while he babbles abt whatever topic, they think it’s really cute !!!! like !! keep talking !!

he gets embarrassed when he sees his friends smiling at him but it kinda makes him a bit teary eyed bc it’s been so long since he was able to talk abt his interests without being shut down / forcing himself to keep quiet because he felt like he was being too childish/annoying

what im saying is that he should be able to act like a kid bc he is one !!!! he's 14 !!!!!

he either has the cutest laugh or the weirdest laugh and it strictly depends on who ur asking

i feel like he sneezes like a kitten...............he sneezes and everyone whips their head around to look at him and he’s never wanted to dig a hole and put himself in it more than now

i like the imagery of tinkling bells being associated with him so im gonna sayyy he would have a necklace with a little bell (something like this kinda ??) and yes, leo would’ve made it for him as a joke kinda but not really

valdangelo (either as a friendship or nah) is underrated

like ur telling me this kid has a metal dragon and builds the coolest things ever and nico doesn't even think it’s a little bit cool ?? nah. rr did them dirty.

the kids at camp love him and i won't take no for an answer

he brings out ye ol’ mythomagic figurines to explain/show them the monsters and gods of the greek pantheon

it’s a win-win situation bc he gets to babble abt his hyperfixation and the kids get to learn abt what they're gonna get into in a way that’s better than the camp orientation film (since nico’s literally the only one who’s seen it ((but i think the stolls wanted to check it out too ??)) )

they give him a “camp’s best counselor <3333” mug and he cries abt it to reyna and hazel

yes he’s wearing an unusual amount of friendship bracelets no he's not gonna take them off shut up

unfortunately im team short!nico bc i want 2 see him get engulfed by the hugs his sisters (yes this includes reyna) and friends give him !!!

he wears demonia platform sneakers / doc martens (and converse but that’s p much a given) thank you <3

piper/nico friendship ... I Need It

they borrow each other’s clothes constantly

leo and them clown on jason and jason is Suffering but he loves them all so it’s ok

piper could probably carry nico

nico stress bakes

yeah

he and clovis become good friends and hang out in the dream world and u know what, im gonna say they’re cuddle buddies too. clovis seems like he would give nice hugs !

im a sucker for nico having friends from different pantheons too !!! also becoming sort-of friends with gods/immortals of different pantheons !!

the underworld demigod discord gc is cursed; one moment they're all talking abt how they're pretty much fated to stay in the underworld while they're both living and after they die but the next moment someone says they want a hug and a chorus of “yeah...”’s follows.

nico was a momma’s boy most definitely

speaking of which, i like to think that while him and bianca looked like their dad and mom respectively, it would’ve switched when they got older ?? idk

autistic nico ..... rick make it canon and not btwn the lines......

idk how to explain this one bc it’s just Plain Weird but . i feel like . nico would like?? hang out under his bed ??? maybe i’ll draw a pic or something and edit this later sjjdjkddk

this is just me projecting but he hates looking at mirrors / seeing himself in photos bc the person he sees doesn't match the person he sees in his head ?? if that makes sense ??? like he doesn't look like the nico he used to be bc of how much his appearance changed ? idk

uhhh he sometimes hallucinates, esp when he was in tartarus and in the month after coming out of the jar

maybe i’ll elaborate on this later ..

i need more annabeth and nico friendship pls...... both of them like/liked percy and now he can't stop getting clowned

HOWEVER.... if I see one more “not his/my type” joke im going to delete my tumblr

speaking of which, i have a conspiracy theory abt Things, but i don't wanna get my ass sniped into next tuesday

introvert leo forcing himself to be the group comedian even though he’d much rather be with machines and extrovert nico who pushes ppl away so he doesn't get hurt but desiring the company of another type vibes. im not gonna elaborate.

his latest hyperfixation is pokemon and his favorite pokemon are gengar and skitty, but jirachi and mimikyuu are close seconds

has a crush on N Harmonia and a bunch of the male gym leaders no im not gonna elaborate

this isn't a hc but. rick u really gotta stop writing abt ppl automatically distrusting nico because of his appearance / godly parent (although some were kinda warranted based of their personal history even though nico still pulled through in the end) im getting tired of reading abt ppl wanting to like. hurt him or Actually hurting him for stuff he didn't have control of sjkjsjkdsjkdk (like wtf happened with frank when hazel got poisoned?? I thought frank actually liked nico ahjkjsjkf)

uhhhhh that’s p much it ?????? sorry for the long ass post .. maybe i’ll write abt him more if ppl really want me to...

#nico di angelo #pjo #please tell me to shut the fuck up #im mortified #null.txt

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98prilla · 4 years

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Abductions, Past and Present

AO3

This is another rough one, so pay attention to the tags.

...

He’s scared. He knows it’s stupid, Remus goes through this every single day, he should be brave, like his brother, but he’s terrified, because he’s gotten complacent, gotten used to not being taken.

And he knows from Remus’s face, bruised and bloody, and how hard his brother fought, that he has the same sinking feeling in his gut, that something is going to happen, something bad is coming, and he wishes he had more than a brief glimpse of eye contact to say his goodbyes before they dragged him away.

It’s the examination table. The smell of sterile cleaners fills the space, making his nose burn from the potency of it, as his ankles and wrists are shackled. He can feel his breath starting to speed, his heart starting to race as panic sets in, as he pulls at his restraints, though he knows it won’t do any good.

“-don’t need them much longer anyway, should get new specimens soon, to repeat the tests, make sure they’re an accurate representation of their species’ capabilities.” He shivers, going completely still at that voice, as the door opens, The Scientist entering. He’s never seen his face, he’s always wearing a mask, a full body suit, that is always stained red by the end of these sessions.

“Please. Please don’t.” He knows begging won’t get him anywhere, but he can’t help it.

“Sedate him. I don’t need him whining through this procedure.” He hears the doctor snap, and he gasps as he feels cold gloved hands on his arm, a needle shoved into his skin. “Experiment 1.552: Organ removal. As the subjects are coming to the end of their usefulness, we will be measuring the effect of the removal of internal organs. We’ll start with the organs it seems humans don’t need, today the appendix. We’re using subject 2, given his much healthier physical state, for the most accurate results. We’ll give that a week, then move on to the liver…” the doctor’s voice goes hazy, the world around him spinning, colors flowing and shifting, like a kaleidoscope. He feels a sharp pain in his side, but it dims quickly, along with his awareness as he fades in and out.

…

Sirens. There are sirens. He can feel an aching, blazing pain in his side, as he half stumbles, is half dragged, down the hallway. Lights are blaring red, flashing and spinning, the sound is so loud, he can hear shouts, screams, orders being shouted but his mind can’t make sense of it, then he’s shoved through a door, and nearly falls to his knees, a strange pressure in his chest, but then Remus is there, lowering him to the ground, alarm bright in his eyes. His own drift shut for a moment, but flare open at the pressure atop the burning spot, a hoarse scream escaping his lips.

“R… rem…” he chokes out, vision blurred and hazy, but he knows that gentle touch, knows it’s Remus, and if he’s with Remus, he’s safe. The pressure in his chest increases and he coughs, spitting out blood, distantly, he knows that’s not a good sign.

“Shh, shh, it’ll be ok, RoRo, I’m gonna-“ Remus’s voice shakes, and he feels his brother take in a deep breath, “gonna patch you right up, just like always, yeah? Sound good?” He feels Remus gently stroking his hair, his hand pressing down on his abdomen, and Remus smiles at him, that smile lighting up his whole world, before he can’t keep his eyes open any longer.

“d…don’t think y-y-you can.” He whispers, choking on the liquid in his lungs, slipping further and further from awareness, distantly, he hears screaming, then his world fades to black.

…

He’s in another operating room. He’s weak, he can’t fight, but he tries anyway, though his chest is tight and he can’t draw in enough air, and where is he, where is Remus, what are they doing to him now?

“None of that, now. Easy, darling.” A gentle but firm hand on his shoulder pushes him back down, and he doesn’t have the strength to fight it. A scaled, sharp face comes into view. That’s strange, the guards always wear masks, always hide their faces. “we’re fixing you up. You sustained a deep injury to your abdomen, it nicked a vein. You lost a lot of blood and suffered severe internal bleeding and trauma. We need you to stay still, alright?” The being reaches out, carefully stroking his cheek. He leans into the gentle touch, letting his eyes slip closed again. He doesn’t know why, but he believes him.

“losing him-“

“nearly done!”

“venom-“

Then something warm sweeps through his veins and he gasps in a deep breath, the luxury of oxygen in his lungs sweet enough it knocks him unconscious.

…

Bits and pieces.

…

Someone dabbing at his forehead with a cool rag.

…

Soft hands wrapping his abdomen in bandages, that same scaled face coming into view as he hisses in pain, saying something his cotton filled ears can’t comprehend.

…

Water, cool, sweet, water, hitting his tongue and he swallows, unable to even open his eyes, hearing the distant murmuring of people talking lowly.

…

He tries to call out, tries to reach out, because Remus, where is Remus, he needs to know, he needs to see if he’s safe, if he’s safe!

…

He’s fighting, screaming, crying, he can’t stop, he’s afraid, he’s sitting up, barely registering the warm blankets, the softly lit room, trying to lunge to his feet, only succeeding in falling to the ground, gasping in pain at the searing shock of electric ice shooting up his right side, vision blurring, but he can’t stop, he has a gnawing sense in his gut that Remus is in trouble, Remus is hurting, he needs to find Remus!

“Darling, what are you doing?!” He looks up, blinking several times at Janus’s voice, he thinks that’s what the Naga has said his name is, he can’t quite remember through the haze that fills him. He feels Janus helping him up, settling him back in the bed, pushing him down as he tries to get back up.

“Remus! Where… where is he… where…” his eyes jerk to the door as it opens, jerking fully aware and awake for the first time in what feels like years, at the sight of a tall, crystalline man and a winged figure carefully carrying Remus.

“REM!” He cries out, trying to jolt out of bed, jolt to his brother, but Janus just pushes him back again, simply arranging the pillows so he’s halfway sitting up, before Janus backs away, allowing the other two to lay Remus down beside him. Instantly, he is pulling Remus to his chest, running his hands through his brother’s hair, up and down his arms, unable to tear his eyes away, unable to stop watching every inhale and exhale.

“Is he ok? What happened to him? What happened to his hand?” He asks, noticing the bandage wrapped tightly around his knuckles.

“He is fine. Due to a severe stress reaction, he passed out, after having an emotional outburst. He just needs rest. As do you.” Then the crystal man is gone. The winged one shoots him a small smile before following, leaving only Janus with him, watching him silently for a moment.

“thank you.” Janus startles at his words, puzzled expression slipping across his face.

“For what?”

“For getting him out of there. Getting us out of there. For… for saving him.” He says softly, looking up at Janus, eyes watery. Janus lets out a surprised laugh.

“You were the one bleeding out in that godawful hellhole, and Logan is the one that patched you up. You were the one dying.”

“maybe. But he was the one who was gonna pay for it, in the end.” Janus nods, eyes softening with understanding, and Roman gets the feeling that Janus understands perfectly what he means.

“Well. Get some more sleep. And if you try to get up again, I swear I will knock you out myself.” Janus says, startling a laugh out of him. He sees Janus’s eyes light up, his own smile growing, before he turns and walks out the door with a small wave, leaving them alone.

He pulls Remus a little closer, breathing in his scent as he closes his eyes, safety washing over him.

…

He wakes slowly, realizing that Remus shifting and stirring is what has woken him up. Immediately, he starts murmuring again, smoothing back Remus’s hair. He can pinpoint the exact moment Remus wakes fully, his eyes shooting up to take in his face, staring at his eyes, breath hitching before Remus buries against him, sobbing.

“please… please don’t… I’m sorry, it’s my fault, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have fought, I should have fought harder, I thought you died because of me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I…” Remus trails off, his sobs shaking his entire frame, and Roman holds him closer, his own tears welling to the surface. “I let them take you away, I thought they took you away, they took you.”

“Remus, Remus, Remus, I know, I know, it’s not your fault, it’s ok, it’s ok, I’m here, I’m here, and you’re here and we’re safe now.”

“don’t go. Don’t… don’t go, don’t leave, please, please, don’t leave me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t go, I can’t… I can’t if you go. Please stay.” Remus begs desperately, eye to eye with him, and he feels his own heart breaking, forcing a smile to his face as he brushes back his brother’s hair.

“I’m not, I’m not going anywhere. I promise, Rem, I absolutely promise.” He yawns, exhaustion slipping back over him like a heavy, comforting blanket, and he feels Remus slip behind him, cradling him against his chest, carding his hands through his hair, and feels… happy, yawning once more as Remus shifts closer.

“Go to sleep, brobro. I’ll be ok. As long as you’re ok, I’ll be ok. And I’m not going anywhere, either. Never, never, never. I swear.” He smiles, letting his eyes slip closed, because he knows Remus will be right there, when he wakes up.

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raz-b-rose · 3 years

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So, I'm a Christian like you. Yes, I've strayed recently, a lot. But a friend (okay, not just a friend, but one of my best friends in the whole world) just came out as trans and I just... I don't know how to deal. I want to support them to the best of my ability, since they're my bestie. But at the same time, it's not right, and I know that. Where does one draw the line between friendship and religion?

That’s a tough one. So lets look at what we know, to establish a base line to speak to them from. If your thoughts and beliefs are clear in your heart and mind, God can speak through you better.

God is truth.(Psalm 18:30) He cannot lie. He cannot make mistakes. He is all knowing and has and always will, have a plan.

He created Adam and Eve (and by extension us) the way He did for a reason. Nothing God has done/does is without reason or purpose. We know we were created in Gods image (Genesis 1: 27). We know we were created for a purpose. The purpose of choosing a relationship with him and worshiping him.

If we truly believe those facts, then we know that feeling that you were born the wrong gender is a sin.

We know that sin entered the world through Adam and Eve and cursed everything on earth (Genesis 3, Romans 5:12-14) because of pride and thinking they knew best.

For anyone to claim they were born the wrong gender is pride (a sin) claiming God to have made a mistake, and not as powerful and in control as He is. They claim a sense of control that is false and evil.

Now I use the word evil because at everyone’s core, we are all evil. People like to put a value system on what sin is worse than the other so they can feel better about themselves and not be “as evil as that guy”. But at the end of the day, it’s all black and white. Sin is sin, and we are all sinners. No one sin is worse or better than the other, and by extension, no one sinner is better than the other. We all deserve an eternity in hell. (Romans 8:13a)

BUT! God sent Jesus to die on the cross for us. He loves us so much, He painfully died for us, experienced the pain of eternity for us, and rose again for us. He gave it all for us. We have a second chance!( Romans 5:6-11, 8:1-3, 13b)

Now I have a question for you. Are you ready to give it all for Him?

Eternity is exactly that. Forever, never ending, everlasting, no end. Will that be spent in joy and worship of our glorious Creator, or in pain and suffering for rejecting Him.

We are called to live as Christ lived. He lived for us, so we shall live for Him.

So now to get to your question? Where is the line between our duty to God, and our desire and blessing in friendships?

It’s a tricky slope, even within the church.

Lets look at one of the greatest woman in the bible, John 4:1-45.

The Samaritan Woman was an outcast. She had lead a very self serving life that left her feeling empty and tired. Jesus treated her with compassion and patience. He taught her of Gods gift of salvation, then called her to change.

The set up in their conversation is an important one. First he taught her of “The Water of Life”. When she yearned to learn more, he then showed his knowledge in knowing how she had lived her life and yet still urged her to take his gift of salvation.

We can also look to the story of the Prodigal Son, Luke 15:11-32

The son’s father waited many years for his son to return and celebrated when he did. A feast and love and clothes and warmth was given to him. This is how Gods receives us when we turn our lives over to Him. Remember we are called to live as Christ lived, so we to must not meet their sin with judgment and hate, but patience and love.

First they must seek salvation, then change.

We cannot push them to change when they don't even have salvation.

We do not enable sin, but we don't become harsh in our treatment towards the person as well. You can still love but be firm and unwavering in your truth.

This can all be overwhelming and feels impossible to tackle, trust me I felt just like that until recently. I had been much like you probably, hopping back and forth between the enticing things of this World and God. That “straying” is not uncommon to any Christian and so real for all of us. God has a timing for everyone, walk with Him at your pace.

I also understand the pain you’re feeling, the ache inside your chest as you think over all these truths and realities. I can understand how much you care for them, and how much you desire for them to be saved and safe from an eternity in hell. I understand the intense fear of losing someone so important to you. That pain of rejection is so strong! But have hope, and know it will all be ok. All pain is temporary, and God is greater than it all! (Psalm 56, Isaiah 41:13, Luke 14:27, ect.)

So while I can’t give you a clear answer, I can give you scripture and urge you to pray and study His word. He will give you the words you need. They, your friend, might not hear what you have to say, maybe they will, you never know Gods plan. They could turn to God now, or many years from now.

I urge you to be honest, open and true. Fully show your soul for Christ, and God will handle the rest. You are called to plant seeds, not harvest them.

Love and prayers, this is a hard step, and I understand that too.

Just remember no matter what happens, God is in control, and His plan is Good, be cause He is Good.

#raz thoughts #answer #christian #the question of faith and friends #love but be honest #Raz speaks out #I fear the Lord for what can man do to me #look to that eternity #feel free to ask away #I'm always here to help the best I can #Godisgood #Godisincontrol #may add more later I have so much passion for this question!#love you guys!

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kanene-yaaay · 4 years

Text

Reasons to Smile

Kanene's Notes:

Reasons to smile:

Today wasn't a sunny day, and I wake up early, which was pretty cool so that way I had time to finally finish my fanfic and post it. Oh, I have internet, and this is also awesome, since I can show this fanfic and talk with you all because of it. And the fun thing about Sun is that is okay the fact that it wasn't showing up a lot today because you guys alone are enough to light up my day and warm my heart. So thank you for being here and being so strong in these tough times, my lollipop!

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Roman!Patton and Ler!Patton/Ler!Virgil/Ler!Roman (It can be seen as Romantic or Platonic LAMP/CALM).

*Hmmm… This is a Tickle-Fanfic! If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are plenty of amazing art in this site!! ‘u’).

* Something around 4.500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* I'm very happy I finally managed to finalize this fanfiction! I made an personal goal to make to each one of the Light Sides a tickle fic focused on them specifically (Virgil = Vulnerable; Logan = It started when... ; Patton = Patton has a secret) and that was the last one! I'm already starting another project which I hope to post soon, so donut worry! I will be opening my Ask Box for prompts, however I will make a post about it, soon! <3

* E a versão em português brasileiro!

* Masterpost in case you wanna see my others works! <3

*Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Watch a fun video, read a good story, talk with the one that you love and drink water! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

Roman felt he was the least heroic hero from all the Mind Palace. It was horrible, like a sensation which seemed to start in his chest, in that deepest part of him where the soul is, and began to spread through all his body. First his throat, making it dry and with tons and tons of lost words never said, then it went to his stomach, leading it to weight as much as his legs, which didn’t felt have any strength left to stand or move in any direction; his eyes looked as dikes about to broke and flood everything in they way, and, in the end, he didn’t felt any cold, however this didn’t stopped him from drow himself in tons of comforters and teddy bears just like he currently was.

As he said before: Not even a drop of heroism.

The soft, warm pile moved some time later as the prince emerged from it, not completely healed, but at least a little better after the nap he had. His hand moved with a flourish in the air, summoning Crofter’s, because he was addicted to this jelly after the musical video, and started to eat, feeling his face getting dirty with his own clumsy actions already inserted in his being.

Jelly on his face, messy hair, tired, sleepy eyes… Yep, definitely these were the ‘royal days’ which any Fairy Tale ever utter. None chapter mentioning, explaining how were the thousands of days in the tower waiting, dreaming; not a page dedicated to the lonely afternoons wandering through the forest in seek of a beauty lady with skin pale as snow, or even some phrases about the months surrounded and arrested in himself that Maui had to struggle and neither three or four verses about all the sleepless nights watered in guilty that the Beast had gone through.

Perhaps, it was because in the end…

- Nobody cares that much. - The words sounded even tougher when left his lips and Roman felt himself squirm as if it had inflicted a physical blow. He shook his head, knowing very well the bottomless well he was burying himself into.

He took a deep breath and opened the desk drawer picking up the old-looking folder, with a single draw of a feather outlined with glitter in its cape. He leaned on the bed’s headboard and opened the emergency folder for ‘heroic moments not so heroic of life’ as he liked to call it.

There were all that intimate stories. The ones we do just for ourselves. The arts in which we are inserted in the world that we chose in the way we wish… Stories with a plot very much deeper that the one traced on papers and the chats and scenes which that had already been turned over, reinvented and transformed again and again and again in the mind of the creative aspect. Took a good sip of air and released slowly in the paper with doodles at the edges. The traces and dialogues started to float from them and dance in the wind, recreating, reorganizing and materializing themselves in the characters, places and contexts previously determined. His trace was light and clear, seeming to flow slightly and naturally with the wind as his room began to take a form of a magnificent forest.

Roman observed the stories unfold before him, sporadically remembering the jokes he had written much longer ago and the trail each action leaded the character. He remembered also the ideas he had when wrote every single one of these words and how much happy he was just by the simple fact he was putting them on lines, without even realizing it Roman found himself with a small smile finding way to his features along with some salty drops pioneering trails down his cheeks and his hand centimeters away from the holograms, doomed to his destiny of always being capable to have any scenario, character and plot at his fingertips, but nothing more than that.

His not so optimal thoughts were pulled out of him when laughter and teasing cut the place and almost automatically made a pleasant shivers ran across his body. Now a real smile took over his face without he even noticing it, his eyes attentive to every detail of the protagonist being pinned in the floor and attacked by his other two friends.

Not a common attack, of course, because Roman could be anything but ‘common’. That, as the majority of the stories, which were in that folder, was a story developed around… tickling.

So, nothing more fair than the principal character, being the hurried and naturally inattentive adventurer who he was (and because in the last day he had a problematic night) didn’t noticed that, when he went to land the ship he forgot to do the necessary procedures before it (he would need to question Logan about the functions from a ship’s painel control later) and because of that the automobile suffered severe damage by the time it hit the ground. Then, nothing more fair than, while the ship was being repaired, both of his best friends tickled him by the same amount of time (which, sure, was a lie, because they would stop immediately when noticed his ‘victim’ had researched his limit. However, the merely possibility of that happens and the teasing they directed towards him about this only made the entire situation more ticklish and playful.)

(What? It was like said: the thing put on the paper is only the beginning of the whole iceberg behind the plot.)

When a story was over, the words returned floating to the paper where they belonged, the scribbles being again fixed, and then Roman took another one and brought it to life, sometimes closing his eyes in order to concentrate even more on the laughter and try to visualize fingers dancing in his most ticklish spots.

Just the thoughts about it leaded to ghost sensations ran across his entire spine. The papers fell with each story that ended and floated gracefully to the ground, because, later he would busy himself with the task of tidying up all that mess.

Later.

(~*~)

He left his room, already having organized it and saved his little folder back to its original place (one story was missing, probably lost in some corner of his forest. He would care about this another day, though. He was tireeeeeed.). He was interrupted some quick times by Thomas seeking to discuss new goals and dreams they could perceive in the next moths and someday in the future, which made him to be late for the dinner and, consequently, his entire routine after meal, and it was for that reason which at ten at night the aspect of passion and creativity was washing his clothes for the next video, that may or may not would be in the morning. Something which made him almost pray to not rain in the next day so he wouldn’t need to take his vestments to dry in the forest in his room.

Since it was almost IMPOSSIBLE to find anything by own will and not literally tripping over them (Not that this ever happened before with his teddy bear which went there to take some sunlight after a particularly strong storm in the Mind Place. Pffff. Of course not. Prince doesn’t stumble, or have teddy bear neither!! Who told you that??) in that indomitable world just as the creativity...

Wait…

Ah, that was why this world was his room and he is the aspect of creativity and… aaahh! Now the things made sense...

My goshly gosh, now he was beginning to look for logic in the pieces of his routine. OK. Red alert. Abort Mission! Sad days made him WAY too philosophical and like Logan. Abort Mission!

His foot leaded him to the living room, letting the washing machine do its job, his mind in a battle to decide which Disney to watch and which ones had duration just a bit longer than the washing process. His eyes landed in the television and his body froze for a piece of second.

“Reasons to smile today”

That's what the paper stuck to the device's screen said. It was a notebook’s common paper, the words scribbled a bit stronger than the necessary amount, however this wasn’t the cause of the guardian of dreams and passion stop in the way to his happiness.

And yes what that phrase meant.

It was a Logan’s idea (amaze!) which emerged in a particularly difficult period for Thomas.

It was really simple, to be honest: every day all the sides got together, more specifically in the breakfast, and told at least one reason to smile and look forward that day. Usually it was Patton who listed more than half of the reasons in almost every meetings, them being memories, peoples or places, e that constantly managed to rip out a good smile and that warm, cozy feeling in their chest.

But, when the moral aspect was feeling too much down for the activity, Roman always jumped with a good future, those where all their dreams were accomplished, Logan always brought some good memories and neutral facts and Virgil always came with someone. One supported the other and vice versa.

Those were really tough moments, nevertheless also were the moments which consolidated them as a famILY.

The royal member held de paper, the entire room bathed in a silence in which he could swear to amplificate his heartbeats. It was possible to notice there was something written in the back of it, so he turned it.

“Your unwavering courage.”

The lights went off and two hands digged in his sides, a scream getting stuck in his throat and his reflexes to punch what touched him was equally restrained by THAT specific sensation.

- NAHAHAHAHAHA! – His laughter was quick to fill each piece of the silent before installed in the place, his own hands swinging from left to right without really managing to do something, completely different from the ones which attacked him, each single finger mixing between wriggling, kneading, trembling and giving an extra special attention to every inch it could research. He quivered, his legs weakening with the flow of laughter. - WHOHOHOHOHOHOOHOHOHOHOHOHO I-I-IS - A particularly mean poke in his lowest rib made his voice to fail, a new shade of blush painting his features. - ACK! - An amused snort could be heard from behind him, the tickling fingers found the new sound interesting and now spent their time slowly spidering up and down his ribs. Light, quick and crazy tickles dancing and spreading with each touch. - nahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

He knew this game, knew how to play it. He just needed to find out who was attacking him. Whilst his squirming, his hands tried to hold or touch anything from who was behind him. A hint. Any hint.

Roman grabbed a wrist. It was uncovered, but there was fabric right behind it. Just one of them wore clothes long-sleeved - His thoughts seemed to run and vanish as fast as the squeaks and yelps between his hearty laughter - Just one of them wore vestments long-sleeved…

The unknown wrist released itself from his hold, quickly deviating its attention to his upper ribs. His legs weakened and he fell in the ground, the tickling following all his moves and don’t stopping to attack him with light kneads and pinches, even with all his fighting.

- Anahahahahahahahah-anahahahahaha!!! - His eyes closed in attempt to focus for the name slip already, but his laughter seemed to control all his breath and mind. -ANXIEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHETY! NAHAhahahaha!!

The fingers slowed down, almost stopping, which allowed the aspirant of royalty finally take some deep quick, delightful breathes, his low and wobbly giggles intertwined with fast squeals being fed up by two index fingers that still poking and lightly teasing that exact spot that connect his armpits and ribs.

- Thahahahahank Beyohohohohcé.

- Tsc. - The purple aspect clicked his tongue and even though everything was bathed into darkness, Roman could perfectly imagine the expression in the other’s face. A sharp look. A marvelous smirk. Uh oh - We work with names here, Squeaky Princey.

F U C-

- Nononohohoho! wAHAHAHAHAHAIT- He even attempted to escape, sure, but was already giggling even before the hands came back to his sides in full speed. His laughter exploded from his lips, his legs and arms also dancing and struggling without any real effort and his eyes closing tightly.

This jerk had told his name a few days ago and KNEW that none of them has get used to call him by that yet. He k n e w.

- YOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOUR STUHUHUHUHUUHUHUHP-NO! WHAHAHAHAHAHA-WHAHAHAHAHAIT!! - Snort. More high-pinched uncontrollable laughter. Squeal. More laughter. Did one of them belong to the emo side or did he imagined it? - LEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHET ME T-T-THIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHINK!!!

Roman could feel the name in the tip of his tongue, somewhere between his loud and attention demanding crackles. Yes, right there, between his bright, mesmerizing smile and that warmth in his chest that seemed to spread through all across his face. He felt like would melt at any moment. Since when his smile could get this big?

- VIRHIHIHIHIHIHIHIGIL!!! IT IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIS VIRGIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIL!!!

- Ding ding ding. – The lights went on again and the royal aspect deposited his hands on the floor, his remain giggles flowing from his mouth as those butterflies and that cozy sensation kept flying in his stomach. - Strike.

- Yohohohou will feel my rahahahahag- However, when he turned, blushed features and teary eyes, to see the fear in his enemy's face as he uttered his promise of vengeance, the prince only found nothing. A gigantic piece of void where the purple one should be standing. The sheet preserved itself in the ground, calm and plain, in the same position he had left it, as it mocked about all the mess that happened seconds ago.

- Who are you looking at, subject? - But the sparkles in his eyes removed any heat of his words.

He went to the laundry and now headed to his room. Being completely honest, he didn't felt a single drop of will to sleep right now, the previous ‘attack’ continued as a mystery. Of course, they all were extremely close, but... tickles? It have been a long time since this artifice was used among them. It was something almost as old as that phrase or that game…

Ok. Something was smelling really strange here.

Maybe it was his new cologne which- No, wait, Roman! Focus, focus!

Maybe it was…

An adventure.

And what kind of royalty he would be if he denied an adventure?

Unsheathed his sword and kept his track to his room, confident and brave footsteps echoing in the hallway.

A quick and muffled ‘thump’ could be heard from his room, which automatically activated all the instincts from the extra side, because of that, in a matter of few seconds the wooden object was already being thrown in the ground by a smiley Roman, who managed to support himself in the only feet that didn’t hurted, since apparently, knocking -ha!- a door down with one (or more, shhh) kick can have consequences (How he was supposed to know?).

- BOW TO YOUR PRINCE AND MAY I DECIDE TO SPARE YOU! - His heroic pose was totally ignored, because the place was empty. His eyes analyzed each corner and each shadow, without really finding anything that give the slightest tip that any other life being beyond him even stepped there.

And then his gaze bumped in a shiny, polished black shoe, half completely hidden under his bed, making a danger joyful grin to spread in his features. All his shoes were Disney tematic and had their own day and outfit and any of them had this shade of black.

(Maybe the Ursula’s one was the one that looked more like, but even with this in mind it was very distinguishable the difference between a dark-purple and a basic dark, please!)

His footsteps leaded him quietly, a perfect contrast with all the shouting from pieces of time ago. He slowly bent down, prepared to grab the shoe and whoever was wearing it and…

- HA! YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD TRICK M- Good point: The shoe came easily out. Bad point: it was because it was empty, which was the reason for his glorious victory statement being, and and very rudely by the way, interrupted. Roman indignantly scoffed; he refused to let the victory escape so easily through his fingers! He was the embodiment of dreams, persistence and hope and he. wouldn’t. give. up. so. easily!!

Inflated by his own enthusiasm, the royal side knelt down, noticing only a paper on the floor in a place a little further under his bed. Just a little crawl was necessary to solve the problem, with a gleam of determination in his glare Roman firmly held the hint, excitedly bouncing his legs, the only part of his body that wasn’t covered by the furniture.

"Your persistence and mind of an untamed nature."

Before he could even process a bit more the meaning contained in the words, which apparently were a continuation from previous paper, the prince felt a strong arm embrace his ankles, his shoes being removed with a slowly calm that didn’t related with the adrenaline which exploded in himself and now across his arteries. His ‘mind of an untamed nature’ understanding exactly what was about to happen and finding zero ways to run away from his fate.

- NO!!! Don’t you dare!! - One of his shoes fell with a muffled hit on the ground. - I-I… hehehe…! - Giggles began to took over his throat. His other shoe fell as well, a cold, excited shiver ran down his spine. - No!! - A finger lightly positioned itself in the exact center of his feet, all his nerves vibrated in expectation. - NononononNo!

The finger started to scratched softly, its nail slided without a single bit of hurry across his feet in a move that went from the tip of his toes to his heel, just to add another finger in the movement and calmly repeat the pattern over and over and over and over… Until all his five stupid tickly fingers were tickling him.

Roman tried to escape from the gap in his ankle, his eyes as tighten as his lips, refusing to brake his barrier.

The one who ‘attacked’ changed his technique a few times, going from circular motions to quick scribbles, however, he hasn’t rewarded with more than some muffled squeaks and snorts from the other. The fingers moved away, giving Prince time enough to recover profusely his breath, almost don’t hearing the soft humming which filled the air for some little pieces of heartbeats.

Roman already had the name in the tip of his tongue. The letter alone was enough of a clue, albeit… the possibility to finish with the playing caused a part of himself to quiver sadly. He didn’t wished to end with this moment… No… In truth…

He didn’t wanted this feeling to end. A feeling that made him excited, electric, feeling like he could run fifty kilometers nonstop. This sentiment, which automatically produced a smile in his features and made he really believes, realizes that he was…

Was loved.

Perhaps it was this the reason that his mouth opened even before his brain processed his provocation, challenger tune that impregnated his next words:

- Há! My dear enemy! Your faux fighting techniques would never be able to defeat a prince like mí! - The creativity side could feel the anticipation, the danger sign glowing in a bright red, and launched his final card: his cocky laughter (and extremely natural. Of course, he never trained hours and hour in a diversity of tunes and expressions in front of his mirror. Humpft. Of course not. That was one of princes’ natural gifts.) of victory.

The same that was interrupted seconds after by the twenty nails that scratched the absurdly, extremely ticklish skin under his toes. Roman could swear that not even in his years of theater he managed to achieve this high tune.

- Ohohohohoh! NohohohohohOHOHOHOhohohoho! – His head shook desperately, his legs bouncing and fight for their lives and freedom, his laughter, now breathless and full of half pleas of mercy, dancing through his room.

A part of himself, one which wasn’t maddened with all this tickling, all the fingers that attacked merciless every little centimeter of his feet and his reverberated laughter, fought against his flight instincts, leading the whole scribbles, pokes and wriggles to find the minimum of resistance as possible (Not that the Tickler will ever know it, sure.)

- PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEE - A nail found a very particularly sensible spot right under his big toe releasing a series of snorts and yelps throughout his already uncontrollable, wobbly laughter. The tickling was unbearable, but in a very different, more lightly, way than the previous attack, and that was making him crazy. - PleasepleasepleAHAHAHAHAHAHAHSEHEHEHE!! NAHAHAHAhahahahHAHAHAHahahahahaHAHAHAHA!!

Roman persisted for a few more seconds, his entire body, despite the tickles being focused in just one place, squirmed. He only allowed the name to slip for his tongue when his laughter and giggles, it depended from the spot and apparently his ‘enemy’ wasn’t satisfied in choose just one, started to steal his breath. His hand hit the cold floor of his room.

- LOGAN!!! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT IS Lohohohhohohohogan!!

The tickles were decreasing until finally stop, making the tingles in his soles not as intense as the that took over his ribs and sides before in the living room. Roman, in the exact moment, which felt the gap in his ankle to weaken, pulled his feet closer, rubbing them.

- Undoubtedly correct. - It could be his tickled mind pranking him, but the dreamer could swear he heard a hint of amusement in the other’s voice. It didn’t took longer for the prince to catch the characteristic sound of sinking, which resulted him quickly attempting to get out of under the bed to reach the one with glasses, after all, their battle hadn’t ended yet!!

- Wait right there! Don’t you freaking dare to- And, once again, his sentence was interrupted. Now for a little snort that flied from his lips when the logic aspect ran softly his fingers at his feet, making the prince to retract in defense, giving him time enough to disappear with a smirk, half joyful and half cocky, adorning his face.

Roman really tried to be angry, but how much heated was his features and how much euphoric he was in the moment proved this action to be a little more difficult, which definitely wouldn’t aplacate his future revenge, of course.

Now, though, his only plan was to take a shower and then sleep. For that he forced his tired body to get up and head his bathroom, part smiling and part yawning. He opened his door and stretched, feeling his bones to crack and muscles to relax.

And then his gaze found the paper stuck in the mirror above his sink, his instinct screaming in a red alert for knowing very well the next step in this game.

- NO! - Maybe it was the tiredness, however, before he could turn around to try to stop the attack a pair of hands hit in his armpits, something that made his legs automatically to fail and every and any coherent thought be tossed away from his brain to a far far away. The laughter already falling in great waterfalls from his mouth.

- PAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHADREHEHE! - His real laughter, that specific one that only appears when his most ticklish spot is being attacked with the most ruthless tickles, was loud, thunderous and definitely an easy sound to be noticed from miles away, Roman almost could feel his blush to spread across his neck just imagining Logan and Virgil smiling as heard him reverberate around the house. – NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

- Ooooooh? - Patton’s playfully tune would be definitely impossible to hear if he wasn’t so close of his ears, his words leading to even more tickles and shivers in the other. - It seems that our little pretty prince here is ticklish? Coothie coothie coo! Oh, no! What are you gonna do? Huh? Huh? What our powerful, brave Prince Roman will do to escape from the Tickle Monster? Huh? Huh? Kitty Kitty Coo! My dear and ticklish prince!!

- NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO TEASIHIHIHIHIHIHIIHIHING, PAHAHAHAHAHATTON!

The creativity’s embodiment trashed back and forth, his head shaking, perhaps in attempts to remove all the red in his face, maybe trying to dislodge those fingers that poked, kneaded, drummed and tickled every available skin they could research. Tears began to accumulate in the corner of his eyes,

And, even with all his effort, his conscient parte still struggled against his instincts to escape and making him to get as close to the moral aspect as possible, almost laying on him.

- But how could I ever stop when knowing that this give me access to all these cute squeals? - A poke in the right place and Roman exemplified his words. Patton giggled. - Not mentioning this wonderful and melodious laugher, Roman! It is adorable!!! - The paternal side seemed as happy as he did, the royalty aspirant could feel their laughter in harmony, and maybe (maybe, only!) his heart had melted a little. Or it was just his tears falling from his eyes, his mind was a mess, okay? Don’t ask for details nor logic.

His laughter, high pinch squeals, snorts and breathless giggles endured for some more minutes before Roman pushed himself forward, laughing a plea to stop, which the one who wears cardigan promptly answered. They leaned against the wall, feeling the cold of the concrete aplacate the heat of the remaining giggles.

For some seconds both stayed in silence, calming down.

- Whahahat did you write?

- Huh? - Patton blinked a few times, leaving his thoughts and staring the other with a stunning smile.

- In the paper. I couldn’t read… And I expected a honest attack from you, padre! Attacking enemies from behind is very immoral!

- Hehehehe! - Genuine smile, hands up as an act of surrender. - Anything goes in love and war.

- Really bold words for someone so close from my fingers! - Roman showed an evil grin, punctuating each one of his words with pokes in the other’s belly, making him squirming in a sea of quick giggles, pushing his hands.

- You stop right there, mister! - Protested, his glare assuming a paternal glint. - Tomorrow we have a video to record and we need to sleep early! Thomas will need his creativity radiant and rested!

The prince whined, hands moving in exaggerated gestures and laying dramatically on the floor, following with his eyes as a smiling Patton stood up and pulled the paper from the mirror.

- Ah! I wrote: ‘Your golden heart!’, but I think I should have written about your stories! - Roman felt his blood freeze, a quick flashback from the morning passing before his eyes. The holograms, flying scenarios, sheets falling, Thomas calling him to do something, the lost paper… - They’re amazing and give really ncredible ideas.

His face suddenly looked as if it had been set on fire and for the first time in a long time the prince found himself speechless while the one with the glasses deposited the paper in his hands, kissed his forehead, wishing ‘Good night~’ before getting out, humming softly and disappeared from the other’s vision.

Roman buried his face in his hands, grunting in frustration, which wasn’t too much easy to do when a smile from ear to ear looked to be stuck in his features.

Yes, they had gave him a plenty of reasons to smile.

Maybe it was for that reason that most of the stories didn’t told about these days, these moments… Perhaps because they were from such great and strong heroism that it was almost impossible to be entirely put in just one plot.

And it was for that reason that Roman, while sitting on his bed, pencil and paper in hands, wanted to be the first one to do so.

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grouptalekindnesssoulstories · 4 years

Text

Come in for a Bite?

Did I come up with this at midnight? Yes. But it was the only idea I’ve had for a week, so I want to say, time is a fucking construct that I’m done with. I also put my hair in a ponytail cause I was serious bout this (for reference, my hair is around chin length)

A note. This is in first person perspective cause that’s how I write best. If that’s not your cup of tea, cool!

Warnings; Remus being himself, vampires, mentions of blood, mentions of drinking blood, implied sexual activity

~~~~

“Kit. No time to flirt!” My boss called. I winced, flashing a quick smile at my target before walking away. As I ducked past Virgil, I hissed under my breath.

“I’m hungry. I only wanted a little snack!” I flashed a small smile on my way out. He shook his head, and I groaned in acceptance. I trusted his experience, much as it felt restricting.

“What can I get for you?” I asked, sweeping up to new customers. They ordered, and I turned away to get it. One took a swipe at my behind, and I kicked his ankle before he could make contact. I shrugged in apology at Virgil when he glared. Wasn’t my fault the guy was one of his crush’s brother. As I passed, some drunks knocked into the other vamp. He turned towards them, and snarled a warning as he flashed his fangs.

“Sorry. We’re a little short-staffed. It’s just me and Kit-kat currently, and we’re pretty pressed with the demand” He turned back to the customer he’d been speaking to like nothing happened. The tavern had gone silent though, and I ranted quickly under my breath before jumping in to save him.

“Everyone loves a good show! The best is when you get surprised by our special teeth casts! They look like real vamp teeth, but without the real bite. Always draws people in, since we can mimic the snarl and keep the real ones away. Now, who wants more drinks?” there was a cheer as I delivered the order. I huffed at all the orders, relaying them to Virgil without pause.

“Thanks. We may be able to hire another staff member because of the increase in business if that works” He handed me the drinks.

“Does that mean I get more time off?” I called over my shoulder, delivering them with practiced ease. I leaned against the bar as people started to drift towards sleep. It would be closing time soon, and that was when he came alive.

“Not if you keep up that attitude. Go on, pick someone to feed off of”

“You just want me somewhere else when you meeet the loooooveeeees of your life” I whispered in a sing-song voice. I’d switched back to my native language without realizing it, which had prompted one of the recently mentioned to give me a strange look. Luckily, he didn’t catch Virgil’s part of the conversation. I huffed, switching back.

“Hey Ro. What’s up” I hoisted myself onto the counter. I glared at the last few stranglers, who hurried to leave.

“Hey Kit. Evening Virgil” Roman nodded in my direction before turning the full force of his charm on my boss. I mimed gagging before swinging over to lock the door. Virgil was lucky his blush wasn’t obvious on his dark skin, as he was running hot-blooded with love. I flashed him a smile as Dededen appeared from the secret passageway. I waved at her, glancing down at her shirt to check her pronouns. Feeling feminine today, I noted before climbing up the stairs silently. I examined each lock, jiggling them to see if the occupant had been wise enough to lock themselves in. Most hadn’t, I knew. I waited quietly before hearing thumping from one of the end rooms. I checked the door, unlocked. I slipped in unseen, and took some blood. I left the couple to their fun, tidying myself up before returning downstairs. The little group had been completed by the arrival of the other couple. I walked over to them, jumping onto the bar to observe their quiet conversation.

“How are you doing Kit-kat” Logan addressed me. I tilted my head in silent answer. The fae had long since decided not to pursue my name, so I felt safe around him.

“You gonna stop flirting with my customers now?” Virgil turned to me, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. I’ll only flirt for purposes of business” I promised, brushing my curls out of my face. He nodded, returning to the veiled flirts in the quiet conversation. Patton was too busy trying to finish their project to try and rope me into conversation, so I turned towards Logan. I switched over to my native language quickly.

“Lo, Can I ask for a favor?”

“You may. However, it’ll come with the cost of you owing me one” He matched it with his native language, a close cousin of my own. His was far more lyrical though, which had made me jealous in the beginning.

“I’d rather owe you a favor than any other of your brethren”

“Perhaps. Be careful though. It is binding”

“I know. Can you check on my twins? I would do it myself, but I can’t leave for long” He considered for a moment, offering his hand to seal the deal. I took it without hesitation, beaming at his silent agreement.

“Kit” Virgil warned. I snarled at him, reminding him I was just as experienced. He shot a look right back, which made me back down. I may not be that much younger than him, but he still was my bonded-leader. I returned to a language we all understood, to keep Virgil’s human almost-partners from figuring out our secrets.

“We all need some sleep!” Pat declared, glancing between the two of us, trying to prevent an all out fight. I nodded, turning to disappear to read. I didn’t sleep much anymore. Dededen nodded, pulling Roman after her. Lo and Pat joined them in the secret passageway. I was walking to my room when Virgil grabbed my arm. He waited for us to hear the door close before releasing it.

“What the heck Katherine! You know better than that!” He snarled, his human form melting away. I let my own drop, glancing away as I lost a lot of the weight on my body.

“I needed to make sure the twins were ok!” I shrank away, controlling my fiery temper.

“But you could have asked Pat! He would have gotten his mate to help, which would have cancelled out the favor thing!”

“I don’t care, ok??” I turned away again, waiting for him to do what he would. I felt his frustration and anger break as he placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Kit. I know you’re worried about them. I’d let you go yourself if I could” His voice had softened again.

“I know. I can’t leave though, remember? I’m still cursed” I turned around again, waving at my worn body. His face fell as he realized I was right. The witch had done a great deal on the town. She’d killed a lot of men, men with children. We had hidden as many of the townsfolk as we could, losing most of our staff in the progress. We still felt their lost in our bonded-pack. I had suffered damage too, taking on a curse meant for others. It was slowly eating away at my body, and it kept me locked in the town. A human would have died by now but I needed to feed more often than I liked to keep from dying too.

“How long will it last again?” He nodded towards my arm. I swept a hand down it, revealing the timer on it.

“Another few months” I answered after a pause to read it.

“Will you last that long?”

“I don’t know. I’m hanging on by tatters as it is” I hid the timer again, meeting his eyes. The feline-like pupils were wide, open as his expression.

“I’ll try to store some extra blood. It may help keep you going. If I can, I’ll take on another worker, so you can rest more” He leaned his forehead down, humming a comfort rhythm. I responded with my own rhythm, shivering as some of my energy drained. I couldn’t risk sleeping tonight. Not with how weak I was becoming. I had lied to Virgil. I was hanging on by a small thread. I was sending a letter saying good-bye to the twins with Logan.

Virgil didn’t know. He went to bed not knowing that I was wondering if I would still be alive come daylight.

#sympathetic virgil #sanders sides #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic roman #sympathetic logan #sympathetic patton

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did-he-just-hiss-at-me · 4 years

Text

"You're My Hero" Pt 2: Bad Ending

Warnings: implied suicide, getting robbed, major injuries, character ending up in hospital, censored cursing (lmk if i forgot any)

Summary: Virgil is a superhero. Logan is a fanboy of hero!Virgil. Guess who didn't show up to save the day?

Ships: Analogical

AU: Superhuman!Virgil (NOT the same as my Supers AU)

Notes: I'm not sorry y'all =) Welcome to sufferville, population: You.

Taglist: @bean-of-cheese @watchoutforthefanfics @notalwaysthebadguy @imnotalwaysthebadguy @tottalynotgayatall @phantom-moonfire @theoffical-virgilsanders @ayesthoughts @ollyollyoxinfree @aleiimm @virgil-is-baby-boi @ballisticfan123 @rosiethephoenix @thestarswelcomemewithopenarms

-----

Logan cried for help.

...

And like a depressing cliche, nobody came.

The people robbing him laughed. The man holding him by his shirt went "How pathetic; He thought somebody would come for him! Hah! Well jokes on you, some of our associates have lead everybody away from this area! There's nobody to help you now, you stupid nerd."

After he was finished being robbed the people beat him up. They didn't break any bones, but he had quite a few cuts and bruises.

Logan didn't make it home that night.

-----

Six days. Logan wasn't home for six days. But Virgil knew where he was. The hospital. Virgil was too busy to check on Logan during visiting hours. He regretted that.

Not just never seeing Logan in the hospital, but for the fact that he wasn't able to make it in time. Logan had been long unconscious by the time Virgil found him. Much past midnight, Logan was supposed to be home by 6.

Virgil finally came to pick up Logan at the hospital around noon. The two were silent until they both got in the car. The emo was the one to break the silence. "I'm sorry."

Logan sighed solemnly. "It's ok. It's not your fault after all."

Virgil sniffed, a tear secretly running down his cheek. Lowering his head slightly, he hoped Logan wasn't looking at the front mirror.

"If anything... I'm disappointed in myself."

Virgil perked his head up. "What?" he asked with concern.

"I'm disappointed in myself. For falling for a stupid trap. For failing to fight back." He paused for a moment to wipe his eyes as tears started to flow. "For being stupid enough to believe that some f*****g fake hero would actually come to save me." That last sentence stung.

Virgil had a sad, shocked expression on his face. A waterfall of tears was beginning to form, but Virgil pulled himself together and started the car.

The rest of the trip home was silent.

-----

When they got home, Logan went straight to his room, and tore the precious poster from his friend Roman off the wall. "Some hero he is." Logan accidentally muttered loud enough for Virgil to hear, who was peeking through the open doorway, horrified.

Virgil spent the rest of the day holed up in his room, not even coming out once. Logan had stayed in his room too, but at least Logan came out for things.

It was late in the day, maybe 10pm and Logan was knocking on Virgil's door, to no response from the emo. Logan didn't like barging in to Virgil's room but this was important. Luckily, it was unlocked.

Logan opened the door to find nobody inside. The window beside his bed was open for some reason. His room was messier than normal, like he had a breakdown. There were torn papers all over the floor. News articles. Drawings. Essays. And they were all related to The Raven.

Then Logan saw it. A purple envelope that blended in with his pillow, sealed with a blue star sticker. Logan was written on the front.

Logan read the note with a fearful expression.

Dear Logan.

You've been my best friend for years. I promised you early on that i'd keep you safe. I guess I double failed.

You see, there's two things I need to tell you.

1. I've been in love with you for so long that it's crazy I never said anything until now. But I knew it wasn't going to work so easily. It was for both our safety that I never told you either of these and just stayed as your friend.

2. I failed. I'm a failure. It's my job to protect others and I let you get attacked and robbed. I am so, so sorry. I know you hate me now. I literally saw you rip down my poster in rage. You even cursed and called me a fake.

You see, I'm The Raven.

Logan fell to his knees after reading that sentence, ignoring how much it hurt his knees to do that. After all this time, and he never knew. All the things Logan said. Everything Virgil had done. Tears obscured his vision and he curled up and cried for a while. Logan had messed up. Virgil had to have left through the window from before. Wherever Virgil went, he's gone because of Logan's stupid rage.

Logan sniffled a little, then wiped the tears away. He got up and sat on virgil's bed, feeling a chill run down his spine. Putting the note on his lap, he realized there were a few more lines to read. They were shakier than the others.

"I'm sorry for getting myself involved with your life. You wouldn't have had to suffer and receive this trauma that will never leave you.

Once, you called me an angel. I have come to the realization: you're right. And now i'm going home.

Goodbye, Logan. I love you. 💙"

-----

[Good Ending]

[Part 1]

#logan #virgil #logan sanders #virgil sanders #analogical #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #kacey's original posts #superhuman virgil au

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scripttorture · 5 years

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Hello, it's not really a question about methods of torture but more of the torturer. If a torturer is tasked to send a message for betrayal how would it be done? Which country in your opinion has the most gruesom torture? I apologize if it's not the usual ask, thank you for understanding.

Actuallythis is a pretty usual ask and it’s OK to want to know thesethings. I’m going to start with the second question first. :)

Idon’t think it’s a good idea to make those kinds of judgementsabout torture.

Becauseunderpinning that question is the idea that some tortures are‘better’ or ‘less painful’ then others. That idea is behind alot of the excuses people make for tortures that don’t leave scars.

Here’sthe truth:we all process pain differently and some tortures are more likely tokill or cause disabling injuries.

Painis complicated. As far as we can tell pain isn’t one sensation buta group of different sensations. The pain you feel from eating toomuch chilli is different to the pain of a headache or a stretchedmuscle. All of us have differentthresholds for different kinds of pain.

Ifyou can eat the hottest curry in the take away house that doesn’ttell you anything about how well you’d deal with a pulled muscle.

Thismeans that there is nostandard way to judge how painful something is.Because different people will judge that pain differently dependingon their own individual pain thresholds.

Justbecause a particular act isn’t very painful to me or you doesn’tmean that it’s not excruciating to someone else.

Thatreally only leaves the chance of death, scars and disability as a wayto ‘judge’ torture methods and frankly I think that’s just asidiotic as trying to guess how painful they ‘should’ be.

Oncewe start saying ‘well this causes more deaths so it’s worse’ westart devaluing the experience of the people who survived. When wejudge the tortures that scar or maim as ‘worse’ we devalue andbelittle the experience of torture survivors who are neither scarrednor physically disabled by torture.

That’smosttorture survivors.

AndI refuse to do that. There’s no value in making these comparativejudgements and there’s no real basis for making them.

Byall means say ‘this particular torture horrifies me’ or ‘Iwould find that unbearably painful’. But we can’tmake that judgement for other people.

IfI am honest I don’tfind the idea of particular tortures nearly as horrible as the globalculture that creates and sustains them.

Theway weexcuse and allow torture, the way weallow our media, our politicians, our fiction to parrot apologia isobscene. It is disgusting. It is abhorrent.

Andit is based on lies.

Imaginea world where something that has been proved to be useless, harmfulto individuals and communities, encourages violent crime and causeslife long suffering for the people it’s used against and the peoplewho do it, is continually justified by those in authority.

You don’t have to. You’re living in it.

Iam not horrified by violence. I grew up around bombings.

Iam not horrified by scars or disability. Most of my close friends aredisabled and I work in the pharmaceutical industry.

Iam horrified by communal selfishness, thoughtlessness and greed.

Thisfeeds in to your first question because the tortures that culturesjudged to be ‘especially bad’ varied hugely according to the timeand place.

TheRomans judged whipping to be particularly bad because they saw it asmore humiliating for free citizens. Their culture saw it as thepunishment of slaves.

TudorEngland saw hanging, drawing and quartering as particularly bad. Andagain that was rooted in ideas about humiliation and proper treatmentof the body after death.

AfLayla Wa Layla(The Thousand and One Nights) is full of references to howcannibalism or mutilation of the dead body is ‘worse’ then deathitself. Because the Arabic, Muslim cultures those stories came frombelieved that you ended up in heaven in looking like your body didwhenit was buried.Cannibalism or mutilation of a corpse meant an eternity in amutilated state.

Alot of historical Europe saw breaking on the wheel as particularlybad. Once more, this was due to cultural ideas of humiliation.

Andthe prominence of sexual violence and rape in Syria today is based oncultural ideas about shame, honour and humiliation.

Thecultural judgement of which torture is ‘worst’ is just that:cultural.

Witha geographical setting and time period for a story I can usually tellyou what kind of thing people saw as terrible.

Withoutthat I can’t give you a definite answer.

Thinkabout the setting you’re writing and the cultural attitudes in thatsetting. Think about what people value,their ideas about honour, proper behaviour and religion.

Culturalideas about the ‘worst’ torture are generally a straight forwardinversion of cultural ideas about what is ‘right and proper’. Sothink about what the culture you are writing prizes.Is it ideas of citizenship? Respect for the dead? Sexual fidelity?Ideas about cleanliness and purity?

Ifyou’re still struggling to think of something I canhelp. But I need a time and place your story is set in. Ora detailed description of the kind of fantasy/sci fi culture you’rebuilding, including the modern cultures you’re basing them on andthe things the fictional culture holds dear.

Ihope that helps. :)

Availableon Wordpress.

Disclaimer

#tw torture #tw scars #clean torture #scarring torture #historical torture #pain #modern torture #attitudes towards clean torture #attitudes towards torture survivors #torture apologia #itsonlymario

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pamphletstoinspire · 5 years

Photo

Suicidal Ideation in Church and State

With the terrible events of this past weekend, which witnessed mass shootings in both Dayton and El Paso, the media-consuming public is being subjected to any number of diagnoses from activists, journalists, social scientists, and others, especially Democratic candidates for the presidency.

What I wish to propose in this Ad Rem is that the true etiology underlying many of these mass shootings is very similar to the etiology of current civil and especially ecclesiastical illnesses.

Prescinding from these most recent massacres, about which too little is presently known, there is evidence that connects certain pharmaceuticals (psychotropic drugs) with homicidal ideation. This will probably get some but not enough attention in the next few days and weeks. Other causes are at work, to be sure (mostly spiritual), but anyone who is familiar with the iatrogenic nightmares of the opioid crisis and the benzodiazepine crisis will find what I’m saying here credible. As one who has experienced both of these crises up close in the debilitating effects they have had on my parents, I have no trust in the system that fostered them.

Big Pharma is the tail that wags the dog of the “healthcare” industry in America. And yes, the power quotes were deliberate. As is the case with other things our modern parlance couples with the word industry (e.g., food, music, entertainment), healthcare has suffered immeasurably from being industrialized, capitalized, and governmentalized.

But to bring us closer to our point, there is another harmful effect of certain widely used pharmaceuticals: suicidal ideation. I refer to the known association between suicide and some classes of drugs, such as opioids, SSRIs, and benzodiazepines. For example, there is a correlation between the alarming rate of military suicides we keep hearing about and the pharmaceuticals military personnel are given to treat PTSD and other problems.

When psychotropic drugs are prescribed for people diagnosed with psychopathologies by the failed mental health system, what is happening? Supposedly sick people are given drugs that we know make people sick — and included in that latter sickness is violent ideation, of both the suicidal and homicidal varieties. This is not healthcare, but societal suicide that enriches the drug companies and their co-conspirators. Dr. G.C. Dilsaver summarized it this way in a recent interview (around the 2:04:00 mark): “In short, the mental health system, the psychopharmacological companies, and the insurance agencies get away with murder.”

These terrible phenomena of drug-induced mass shootings and rising military suicide rates may be compared to the current crisis in the Catholic Church with very clarifying results.

The three-part pattern is quite similar: (1) A genuine problem exists, (2) to which is applied an unhealthy remedy, (3) with disastrous results. Here is a concrete application in the mental health profession, where a patient might: (1) experience some sort of anxiety or depression, diagnosed by a “mental health professional” using his handy-dandy, unscientific DSM, (2) at which point he is treated by psychotropics, producing the result of (3) iatrogenic sickness, including possibly suicide and/or homicide.

Let us apply this pattern to one current “Catholic problem,” church closings: (1) There is the problem of low Church attendance resulting in financial hardship for parishes. (2) The “remedy” is to close parish churches by combining two existing parishes into one and selling off the property of the church building no longer needed, possibly demolishing the building so that it does not become desecrated by its new owners. (3) Among the known results of such an action is that a definite number of parishioners will leave not only the parish, but the Catholic Church, for good. One estimate has that number at forty percent. According to Philip Gray, who runs the Saint Joseph Foundation, the percentage of Catholics who leave due to church closings varies based on how well the bishop handles the situation: if well, it goes down to around twenty percent; if badly, it goes up to about sixty percent. So the best-case scenario in church closings is that one in five parishioners is lost to the Catholic Church! Therefore, closing churches is a losing proposition for the Church, a gun to the ecclesiastical head.

What would a real remedy look like? Here is a missionary solution: Send priests, upper-class seminarians, and religious out into the streets to invite people — Catholics and non-Catholics — to come to Church, getting the Roman collar, the cassock, and the religious habit in plain view and making your new diocesan missionaries vulnerable to a hostile or indifferent populace. They will be targets, but that’s OK, so were the Apostles. Once they have people’s attention, they must invite them, challenge them, engage them, hear their grievances compassionately, and answer their questions with thoroughly orthodox and uncompromising replies. Put on special classes and some cultural events for the people you have so invited. Make them feel welcome, not by some big PR splurge that you’ve paid too much for on TV and radio, but by having genuine human interaction that has as its sole purpose the glory of God and the salvation of souls. In short, save the parish; don’t shut it down, and save souls in the process: a net gain for the Church.

It is probable that there are some shakers and movers in the parish, capable and energetic lay folk who want to do something good for the Church. Instead of clericalizing these zealous individuals by making them Eucharistic ministers, lectors, “song leaders,” and other unnecessary add-ons to the clerics and male acolytes in the sanctuary, have them help with these truly missionary efforts. They could actually be working to save souls.

Note that the proposed solution is missionary. In other words, it involves the Church doing something integral to the divine constitution of the Church and therefore traditional. Traditional remedies are the best!

Another example: Instead of merging a Catholic hospital system with a pro-abortion secular institution in order to “save” it — which is institutionally suicidal as well as homicidal to bodies and souls — try expanding the reach of authentic Catholic healthcare by partnering with medical schools that enthusiastically assent to the Church’s moral magisterium, and establishing guilds of Catholic physicians, nurses, and support staff who take professional oaths to be pro-actively pro-life and pro-family. No, it won’t be easy, but partnering with the medical culture of death is taking a Glock to the head!

Other examples:

Youth programs designed to “keep the young people,” or draw them back to the Church: Instead of trying to make them “relevant” by employing the worst of pop-culture and therefore giving them nothing particularly Catholic to grab hold of, have family-based activities that bring youth, parents, and clergy together. Emphasize holiness by offering retreats, wholesome camping and/or scouting activities, and events that promote genuine culture. Focus the events around the liturgical year, the sacraments, and big anniversaries, e.g., of the parish, to give them that sense of belonging to a community that they need.

Seminary formation: Instead of welcoming effeminate men into the seminary, as has been common in the last decades (even still!), make a very public statement that you only want masculine men who want to sacrifice themselves in the seminary (think vintage 1985 Marines), and that you will keep the homosexuals out; challenge young men to be “man enough” to embrace the Cross of the Catholic priesthood, and then introduce traditional clerical asceticism into the seminary environment and formation programs. Teach them what spiritual fatherhood is. No, this is not an attempt at recruiting “dumb jocks” to the priesthood; strong academics and exposure to genuine Catholic culture must also be present in the formation.

Altar Servers: Make it an exclusive male-only brotherhood, emphasizing virtue as well as knowledge of how to serve.

Some of what is true of Church demographics also applies to civil societies in former Christendom. Institutionally, most European nations are displaying suicidal ideation, too. Declining birthrates are compensated by profligate immigration from Muslim countries. That is a gun to the national head if ever there was one. But what can be done about it? Consider Hungary, where strict immigration laws prevent Muslim invasion and financial incentives are available to married couples who have at least three children. No wonder the liberal globalist elites hate Viktor Orbán!

In the Church, bishops could do things to incentivize higher birthrates by imitating the impressive incentive of Georgian Orthodox Patriarch Ilia II, who offered personally to baptize every third child and over born to a married couple. He actually caused a demographic uptick in his country, a former Soviet republic. It should be mentioned that for the Church to accomplish this, her ministers must fearlessly preach the truth about marriage and parenthood to the faithful, including the mortally sinful nature of birth control as well as abortion. Priests and bishops who do that are still, sadly, rare birds.

In general, churchmen seem to favor expensive bureaucratic solutions to the problems caused by modernity when the answer is a return to tradition, even if that return to tradition will require some modern methods (such as electronic media). It’s bad enough to be ineffective, but, as we have seen, churchmen become institutionally suicidal whenever they do something contrary to the nature of the Church — her divine constitution, her faith or morals — such as partnering with an expensive pro-abortion PR firm, as at least one archdiocese in the US actually does!

As far as the lowly faithful are concerned, we cannot institute these changes, but we can teach people the truth about the problems and authentic solutions that flow from a well-formed sensus Catholicus. And the laity can also use the power of the purse string by supporting only apostolates that actually advance the mission of the Church rather than picking up someone else’s suicide tab.

When many of the old nominally Catholic institutions have killed themselves off, those few who have reformed themselves in fidelity to tradition will join the new ones that will inevitably crop up to foster a genuine renaissance of Catholicity. Then the Church will have the resources to provide authentically Catholic remedies to all those horrible social problems about which there is so much clueless pontificating today.

BY: BROTHER ANDRÉ MARIE

From: www.pamphletstoinspire.com

#suicidal idealtion in church and state

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anbuccbrow-blog · 5 years

Text

Niall x Roman fanfic oof

So i was browsing through the shithole that I call “stupid shit folder” in the document section when I stumbled upon this… piece.

1. I’m sorry

2. I’m really not.

Yes, it’s a Pyrocynical x NFKRZ fan fiction. Old fashioned since now Niall must be probably shipped with Imallexx or some bullcrap (by the way it’s alex x atozy ...stfu that will never change)

Enjoy and maybe read with a friend during a pajama party or shit like that.

P.S. I’m leaving some side notes in Italics because they are too stupid to be missed.

“Hey, can we go to this place?” Roman took his phone and showed on google maps the place he wanted to visit.

“Here?” Niall asked confused “Ok, I guess, no problem” Roman hurried to say “Yeah, it’s kind of a wish, you know,… I mean, it’s architecture is pretty interesting and reflects the Victorian times, something that in Russia you’d hardly be able to find, so now that I got the opportunity… I’m gonna use it.”

Roman sounded convincing, didn’t he?

So, both of them went out, Niall with his hands in his pockets, back lent a little bit forward, and Roman straight with hands in pockets, too. Roman started talking about Overwatch and what games were surely going to take over it as regards gameplay resource. Niall nodded at everything Roman said and tried to continue talking about the topic with very, very vague affirmations.

Roman, on the contrary, conversed confidently and seemed to be interested. But Niall just couldn’t believe it.

Niall was suffering. Since Roman had arrived at his home, he had almost never felt comfortable. He tried to be funny with no success. He’d become so lame and worried about not fulfilling his guest’s wishes. Roman had had to invite himself to that little trip to the cemetery because Niall was tormented enough by the thought of losing Roman.

“Nice gates, huh?” Roman said, and laughed. Niall quickly glazed upon Roman’s eyes and stared back to the ground with a forced giggle.

“You sure you want to be here?” asked Roman.

“Oh” said Niall regretfully “no, I mean, yes, it’s a pleasure to bring you here, I mean, I-I-I thought it’s cool to have you here, so… yeah.”

“Do you want to take a selfie next to this gargoyle?” Roman pulled out his phone and mumbled “I’m gay”.

Niall laughed at him and in a second Roman had captured Niall’s smile.

Roman thought “that’s just enough, isn’t it”

“Place your head next to the statue’s face” Roman told Niall. Niall did so.

Seeing himself in the screen of the front camera, Niall felt embarrassed. His little chubby not defined face, next to Roman’s Nordic eyes, delicate lips and, not so manly (but for him it was manly) haircut. So he pulled his hood over his head and the only part of him that could be seen was a bit of his blond hair <yeah, saying blond is important for the ‘poetic effects’ of the story>.

“Are you serious, Niall?” Roman said in such a way you couldn’t tell whether he was angry or not.

“I’m sorry” Niall said. He just looked at the camera and smiled.

Roman took the picture. He brought his phone to himself and looked at the picture.

Oh God… Niall’s smile. Shy, gentle, kind of naughty…

He couldn’t share that. Oh hell no!

“Can I see it?” Niall tried to peek over Roman’s shoulder.

“Oh, ye - oh crap, I erased it! Well, never mind, let’s go on.”

“Come on, Roman, show it, I’m not a fool.”

“Well, I do have it but, it’s fucking gay” Roman falsely laughed and pushed Niall’s back to keep on walking.

“How could I not expect it” Niall thought “of course I seem fucking gay.” He believed Ksenia would have resembled a hippie boy next to Niall’s hyper-feminized face.

…

“Oh, I saw this passage in the Street View” said Roman “let’s go in there”

“It’s kinda spooky”

“Oh yeah, don’t worry” replied Roman.

Both turned to the right and walked into the passage, which had stone walls at the sides, covered in climbing plants.

A light came from the other side. Niall thought of telling Roman that view was good for a photograph. “By the way”, he also thought, “he hasn’t taken many pictures, has he?”

As this thoughts crossed his mind, a sudden force pushed him towards the wall. He gasped. First, one hand holding his shoulder, and the next second both of his shoulders were firmly held by Roman’s dark silhouette.

Niall’s open eyes were doing very short, but quick movements from one place to the other, first looking and the brightest side of Roman’s face, then looking at the other side.

Niall and Roman were just staring at each other.

Roman’s frown slowly faded.

His hands know held Niall’s biceps. He caressed the jacket (not his arms, unfortunately for all of us) with his thumb.

He quickly leaned towards Niall’s face, turning his neck and jaws to his left, and kissed him.

Kissed him gently. Just posing his lips on Niall’s. They were cold and thick.

He leaned his head back to himself. And looked at Niall.

His eyes, still but quite open, looking at Roman’s hair. Roman just couldn’t help himself, and grabbed Niall by the waist, brought him near his stomach and kissed him again, know passionately. He pressed and released Niall’s waist constantly as his mouth played with the poor individual.

Roman released Niall’s mouth. But Niall wasn’t even looking at Roman anymore.

He felt dizzy. His legs didn’t support him anymore. Roman suddenly felt Niall’s weight and asked, struggling to keep him up “Niall, Niall! Are you okay?”

He sat him on the rock path and placed his head on the wall.

Roman weakly grabbed Niall’s hand.

Niall looked sick. Roman liked him anyway. His eye bags were more pronounced, he looked whiter, his mouth was a little bit open, as if he was retarded, but to Roman, that was just a supermodel.

“Should I take you to the hospital?” Roman held tighter Niall’s hand, and with the other hand unbuttoned Niall’s jacket pocket, were Niall placed his phone.

Niall grinned with that drunk face he had. “Cyka Blyat” he laughed.

“Niall!” Roman shouted “do I call the hospital or not?”

“Y – yeah” Niall replied, surprised.

However, Niall wasn’t drunk-sick-stupid enough, not to notice that,…

Roman was worrying for him.

CHAPTER 2.

“So, how did this happen?” asked the doctor.

“Well, I don’t know” Roman said. Niall trusted that Roman would pretend that it was out of nowhere, but Niall himself was trying to think of a not embarrassing excuse for his partial pass out.

“It was sudden? Happened out of nowhere?” said the doctor, with an intensified British unintelligible accent.

Roman looked at Niall. Niall had his eyes half closed, and was too sleepy to react and guess Roman’s silence.

“Excuse me?” Roman asked.

The doctor looked at Roman as if he was stupid and severely repeated “did… he... pass… out… or faint… out of… nowhere?”

“Oooh” Roman said “Uhmmm” he glazed at Niall’s eyes with a bit of guilt “yeah, out of nowhere”

“Sudden, you say… This unpredictable low pressure may mean serious problems, though high pressure is worse.” Roman stayed with the “high pressure is worse” affirmation, which gave him some kind of relief. “But his legs weakened,… if the low pressure came out of nowhere, there may also be flaws in the nervous system which couldn’t make the legs work correctly”.

The doctor was just making all of this up. Shivers climbed up Roman’s back. “I’ll tell Michelle to do some brain studies, convulsions may come at any second”

“Convulsions!?” Roman thought, sweating and trembling.“Uhmmm, Doctor, now that I remember” the doctor grinned, proud of him getting to make the young gentleman spit the truth “a girl kissed him out of nowhere and he became nervous. You see, Niall, I mean, yeah, him” pointing at the almost dead body “has a girlfriend” Niall felt so accidentally roasted “and this girl kisses him random and Niall’s girlfriend appears, and he became really nervous” Roman ended his sentence looking at Niall in his cute hospital dress.

The doctor turned and looked at Roman, as he finished cleaning his stethoscope. His facial expression basically transmitted an “are you serious?”, which made Roman sweat even more. Needed children could have drunk those greasy liters and liters of perspiration.

“I kissed him, and it was out of nowhere. I-I-it was just a prank, tak ili inache, I mean, anyway.” Roman scratched his face, trying to hide his red, tomato skin. Niall hid his face with his serum-wired hand.

The doctor widened his eyes, then softened his expression and said “Mmmh, that sounds more believable. And see who has woken up and moved his hand!” He said, looking at Niall compassionate and ruthless simultaneously.

…

Roman constantly glazed upon Niall to see if he was okay. It wasn’t as if he could just offer his arm and tell him “hey, take my arm” so that if he felt dizzy again he wouldn’t fall. Niall’s head was facing down. Once again, a little of his hair could be seen peeking out of his hood. Roman was just so thankful that they hadn’t told Niall’s relatives about the incident, which could have kicked him out of Niall’s house or ended up in an awkward coming out scene.

Roman looked at the other side for a second. He’d fucked up. No way he could talk to Niall again. Pyrocynical and NFKRZ… Would they collaborate again? The situations would be nerve wracking and toxic for both of them. Should they pretend they were separated by various arguments on social media? Was it possible that…

Roman was staring at the buildings of the block opposite. His lips trembled a little, and he felt very tired. Reminding himself he had a sick individual next to him, he struggled to turn his head back to Niall and make sure everything was ok…

A quick caress danced in Roman’s gloved hand, and soon his fingers were trapped by another hand. Roman’s heart bumped stronger than usual, his pupils increased, and he instantly stared at his hand held by Niall’s. A distance of 10 cm separated each other.

Roman slowly moved his sight towards Niall. Facing down he was, but now you could see his mouth, drawing a soft half grin, cheek up, and his eyelashes shined over his light blue eyes (bitch you blind??) , partially covered by his messy fringe.

Niall turned his face towards Roman. The Russian gasped (he didn’t expect such a predictable movement). Niall giggled at his friend’s reaction. And stepped near him, making their hands rustle against the sides of their thighs. He looked down again.

Roman’s feelings of relief and love were undescriptable. His cute little lesbian, almost resting on his side. Self-consciousness was absent at this point, and people looking at them were as unnoticeable as trains dashing thousands of kilometers away (they weren’t taking notice of anything, to make it short).

They walked a few blocks more. Niall smelled Roman’s sweat, felt Roman’s fingers caressing his thigh as they moved their legs, travelled Roman’s profile with his eyes and stopped at his eyes. Whenever Roman turned his head to check up on Niall, he would look down on the street tiles to avoid eye contact and blush slightly. This was when Roman looked at Niall’s hair, dancing with the wind and the rhythm of their walk, gazed upon his eyes, then his nose, mouth, chin, little mole on his cheek, and imagined his body under the jacket, trying to recreate the memories he had from the 1000 degree knife video, where Niall let see part of his torso and abdomen.

Unfortunately, Roman’s social awareness was coming back and the people staring at him, felt like being shot right in the confidence and the dignity. But he couldn’t let this opportunity go away, so he stared back at the people who looked at him with a rapey face and they just turned away.

However, the stares became more and more unbearable. Niall was just closing his eyes, resting his head on Roman’s shoulder. The Russian moved his arms away from Niall. Niall asked “what is wrong?” with childish, shiny eyes. Roman glanced over his shoulder and sighed. He thought, with a tie in his throat “это не будет работать” (this is not going to work). He sighed again, louder.

“Roman, Roman, are you alright?” Niall grabbed his face by the cheeks and made him face him. Roman exhaled with tears in his eyes…

“I can’t do it” he cried, not yet sobbing, but his jaws already tense, his eyelids strongly pressed to each other. “I’m sorry”.

Niall let go of him and stared at the opposite block.

“I acted compulsively” tears finally dropped out and drew little spots as they fell through the snow. “The moment was so perfect. I organized everything just to get to this moment” Roman did frenetic gestures with his hands. His face was red because of the cold and the crying.

“What am I going to do with Ksenia?” those words were a bit of a tough slap for Niall, but the Brit handled it and said optimistically “well, dump her” as he put his arms around him.

Roman glared at Niall “I-I-I can’t. I do love her, I mean, I can’t tell her this”

“But Roman, who do you love the most?”

That question *uffff* it was tough. Roman was really confused. What did his heart tell him? That heart was stupid, for sure. And his brain, what did it think about the situation? Well, you couldn’t even count with that organ of doubtful presence.

Roman looked at Niall, who soon released his hand and started walking away.

“You”

Niall turned back.

“You, I prefer you” Roman’s sobbing intensified and he ran towards Niall “I prefer you! You and only you!” shouted him as he strongly hugged Niall.

“Ello blazers, no fkez ee” sweetly pronounced Niall.

“Our love is of the Major Love Gaming” Roman whispered in Niall’s ear.

“Well, no, that’s just cringey” Niall hugged Roman tighter.

#nfkrz #pyrocynical #fanfic

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phosphorescent-naidheachd · 5 years

Note

I suddenly really, really want to hear about your presentation on Les Mis.

Grab a drink and settle in, anon… it’s a long, tragicomedic tale. ;-)

OK, so the first thing you need to know is that as a child, I was a big reader. (Spoiler alert: I shockingly grew up to work in a library.) This meant that by the time I reached 5th grade, I’d already read all of the books on the list of classic Western literature our teacher told us to pick a book from for our book report: Little Women, Black Beauty, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Little House on the Prairie, The Swiss Family Robinson, The Secret Garden, Treasure Island, etc. So my teacher gave me the classic novels list from the next grade level up. Problem solved, right?

Wrong. When I looked through the list, it turned out that I’d already read all the books on the 6th grade list. And all the ones on the level after that. In fact, we soon learned that I’d read all of the books on all of the lists of state-approved/mandated classics my teacher had until you hit the upper high school level, and even then, I’d read most of them. (Look, I was the kind of kid who set myself summer reading assignments, OK?)

My teacher kindly let this young overachiever pick from the 11-12th grade book lists. Naturally, I picked the unabridged Les Misérables. (The translated version, though. I was an overachiever, but not that level of overachiever.)

The second thing you need to know is that my 5th grade teacher had a terrible tendency to not tell us what form each book report was going to take until AFTER we’d made our set-in-stone selections. A creative way of teaching kids to be flexible or a cruel and unusual way of amusing herself? Your guess is as good as mine.

Now if you’re familiar with Les Misérables, you know there’s a reason this book is colloquially called The Brick—at approximately 1,500 pages (in English), it’s dense, both literally and figuratively speaking. Narrative digressions, longwinded speeches, and verbose descriptions aside, Hugo has a lot of intertwining narrative arcs and plot threads. (And that’s without going into thematic elements or bringing in notes on the novel’s historical context.) So naturally this was the time that our teacher decided our book report should take the form of a comic. A single page comic.

If you’re at all familiar with Les Misérables, you know that is literally impossible to do with this book. Don’t get me wrong, I was a verbose child who had immense difficulty condensing my writing (not much has changed there lol), but that wasn’t the issue here. I don’t care how good you are at summarizing stories—unless you cut 9/10ths of the story and/or draw microscopic-sized comic panels, there’s simply no way to fit Les Mis onto one illustrated page.

So I went to my teacher, held up my hardbound copy of Les Mis, and begged for mercy. She relented… to a degree. I could, she said, write a one page summary of Les Mis. I should also draw images important to the story on another single page sheet (i.e. symbols like the loaf of bread, the pair of candlesticks, etc.). When that was done, I should attach both of these pages to a small posterboard for my classroom presentation.

That… wasn’t much better, but at least it was something vaguely approaching humanly possible. Then she added the kicker: that typed one page summary? Had to be in size twelve, Times New Roman font, and it needed to be double-spaced. I think I cried when I got home.

Let it be known that I suffered for this book report. I gave it blood (papercuts!) and toil and tears and sweat. I gave up reading other books while I was reading Les Mis because otherwise I’d lose track of where I was in the story and all the different plot threads. I purchased my very first CliffNotes—which was a sacrifice, because at that age, I considered reader guides to be cheating—and read the relevant portions after I finished each section of the book to be sure that I’d fully grasped everything that happened in that chapter. I took notes as I read… so, so many notes. And then I wrote my summary. And then I cut that summary. Again and again and again. I drove my poor parents to the very edge of their sanity with my constant emotional breakdowns and requests for editing feedback.

I finally ended up with a written summary that was 1 and 1/3 pages when typed in size twelve, double-spaced Times New Roman font. To this day, I still think that was an achievement of Herculean proportions. I drew my images and glued it all to a posterboard. Then I presented it to the class.

I don’t remember much of my presentation. I’ve done some highly entertaining dramatic presentations in my time (such as the one that earned my parents a concerned phone from my 3rd grade teacher… now that is a good story!), but I don’t think this was one of them; I was just too tired to go all in with costumes and singing and whatnot.

And then, after all of that, I got either an A- or a B+ for the report; I no longer recall which. All I know is that it wasn’t an A or an A+, and that rendered it unacceptable to 10-year-old me. The insult heaped on top of the injury of that less-than-perfect grade? The comment written in red ink on my painstakingly crafted summary: “Well-written, but too long”. I lost points because I only managed to cut 1,500 odd pages down into 1 and 1/3.

My poor friends and parents had to hear about this Terrible Injustice at length.

I understand where my teacher was coming from—she had specified a single page summary, after all—but I also seriously doubt she had read Les Mis as of the time I did this report, or she’d have understood how difficult was to summarize this novel in so little space.

I have great fondness for Les Mis and I’m glad I read it, but… I worked for this assignment, when I could have just used a book I’d already read and been done with it all. I could have read a book that was literally a tenth of the length of Les Mis and dashed a cartoon out overnight like I know several of my classmates did. I wouldn’t have been marked down for going over length then.

In case you couldn’t tell, I’m still bitter. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#phos gets personal #phos replies #anon #les miserables #les mis #literature #french literature #long post

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johnchiarello · 5 years

Text

Mark 7

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CCOUTREACH87

⋅ APRIL 16, 2017 ⋅