#I don't know what my issue is with Henry

[statementlou]

Tbh i am not surprised that a person who openly talked about having drinking problems since 1d days, because of how crazy 1d worked has been agressive. What surprises me is people being surprised (they never seriously saw drunk person?). But i am also confused about this whole book. Apparently Maya said that that book is not fully bout Liam but compilation about her exes and some of the worst parts are not about him. But recently she said that the book is “ofc about him” so what is true then? Or did she meant it that ofc some parts are about him or that whole book is about him?

Sorry, just confused

I also am not surprised- we've learned so much more about the real stories of things and about the guys' actual lives over the last years, and the story that has unfolded around Liam has been totally consistent throughout if you've been following it, and so the information Maya is telling us is shocking and upsetting but not difficult to believe. I got an anon yesterday saying they were worried about getting similar revelations about the other boys, like "if Liam could be doing this we just don't know, any of them could", and while in a way that's always true I guess, anyone could be doing anything in private like... that doesn't really concern me. Because none of these Liam revelations are coming out of nowhere, there have been many MANY steps along the way leading us here if you've been watching, and he has talked openly about both his mental health struggles and his addiction issues. So to answer that anon... to find out something similar about Louis would in contrast contradict everything we know about him and no I'm not worried about it. Is he probably very irritating, absolutely, but an abuser or a loose cannon, well that news would shock me. But anyway as for the book I don't find it strange that she was nervous when it came out and treading lightly and later decided, fuck it. In the absolutely on point tiktok she dropped today (YES👏GIRL👏FUCKING TELL THEM👏) she even mentions attempts to keep her from publishing the book, presumably by Liam's team, that I am riveted by and cannot WAIT to hear more details about actually- like I said I don't find it at all strange that she was nervous and downplayed it a bit then. But if she says now that it's just about Liam, well, I would say it's been clear from the beginning that the book is their story. Maya herself brought up the parallel of songs being written about stuff and I think it's the same thing; it's true (she was in an abusive relationship that involved certain kinds of events) but maybe not 100% literal (I'm sure details were changed to make the story work, it's not like a word for word timeline of their interactions or whatever).

[wonder-worker]

"Some modern historians, apparently fascinated by the fact that Matilda was eleven years older than her second husband, Geoffrey of Anjou, have been quick to assert that the marriage was unhappy. The historical basis for this assertion rests upon the word of the Durham chronicler, who stated that when Matilda returned to Henry I’s court in 1129 it was because Geoffrey had repudiated her. [Historians have thus assumed that their mutual incompatibility led to hostility and an eventual separation]. However, it must be noted that the northern chronicler was hardly in a position to have first-hand information about events across the Channel, and that he had the chronology of the affair completely wrong. The author placed Matilda’s marriage in 1129, and wrote that only a few days after King Henry returned to England on 13 July of that year, he was told that his daughter had been repudiated by her husband and had returned to Rouen with only a few attendants. The marriage actually took place in 1128, and Matilda was in Anjou with her husband in 1129 when the la Haye brothers brought a charter in favor of the abbey of Fontevraud to her for her confirmation. The other contemporary accounts of Matilda’s separation from her husband did not record her departure or suggest reasons for it, but only noted her return to Anjou in 1131.

It is possible that Matilda’s return to her father’s court in 1129 was not a marital separation at all, but rather a political mission. Perhaps Matilda and Geoffrey grew uneasy in their isolation and began to doubt the commitment of the Anglo-Norman barons to their cause. Leaving her husband behind to manage affairs in Anjou, Matilda may have travelled to Normandy seeking clarification of her position. A few scraps of evidence point in this direction. A letter that Hildebert of Lavardin wrote to Henry I in 1131 expressed pleasure that the king was now reconciled with the count of Anjou, who ‘had now fallen in with his wishes in everything concerning him and his daughter’. Henry of Huntingdon and Robert of Torigny stated that a ‘great council’ held at Northampton on 8 September 1131 decided that Matilda should be returned to her husband. The wording implies a decision made by the great men of the realm for political reasons, not a family’s success in persuading a tearful daughter to return to a husband whom she disliked. Furthermore, William of Malmesbury wrote that ‘no small gathering of the nobility being held at Northampton, the oath of fidelity to her was renewed by those who had already sworn and also taken by those who had not done so previously’. The renewal of the oath also suggests that Matilda’s mission may have been occasioned by concern over the succession rather than by the marital discord that historians have often taken for granted."

-Jean A. Truax, "Winning over the Londoners: King Stephen, the Empress Matilda and the Politics of Personality", The Haskins Society Journal 8 (1996)

[wishesofeternity]

“Warwick launched his final bid at kingmaking, this time in alliance with Margaret of Anjou to restore Henry VI. He and Clarence landed in Devon while the King was in Yorkshire. Elizabeth (Woodville)’s initial reaction was to prepare for a siege in the Tower of London where she had already retired in expectation of the imminent birth of another child. But on 1 October news reached the capital that the King was preparing to set sail from Bishop’s Lynn, abandoning his kingdom. With no hope of imminent rescue, Elizabeth moved swiftly into the Sanctuary of Westminster Abbey with her mother and her daughters. She sent Abbot Thomas Millyng to advise the Mayor and Aldermen that she was surrendering the Tower, and consequently Henry VI, into their custody.

- J.L Laynesmith,  “Elizabeth Woodville: The Knight’s Widow” in “Later Plantagenet and Wars of the Roses Consorts” / “The Last Medieval Queens, English Queenship 1445-1503″

"Elizabeth (Woodville) at first fortified the Tower of London against the approaching Lancastrians, but then decided instead to hand over custody of the Tower to the mayor and aldermen of London while she went into sanctuary at Westminster Abbey. It was a move which not only protected her daughters, who were with her, but also saved London from attack, which perhaps explains some of the praise she later received. The author of 'The Historic of the Arrival of Edward IV, who claimed to have witnessed much of what he recorded, stressed

the right great trowble, sorow, and hevines, whiche [the queen] sustayned with all manar pacience that belonged to eny creature, and as constantly as hathe bene sene at any tyme any of so highe estate to endure; in the whiche season natheles she had browght into this worldc, to the Kyngs grcatystc joy, a fayrc son.

...When Edward (IV) arrived, there was a scene of family bliss, in which the queen's vulnerability and domesticity could be contrasted with his heroism.  The king was thus presented in an unusually human guise, which might appeal to readers familiar with such partings themselves throughout the civil wars:

The king comfortid the quene, and other ladyes ckc;  His swete babis ful tendurly he did kys;  The yonge prynce he behelde, and in his armys did bere. Thus his bale turnyd hym to blis.

[michelle-is-writing]

Interview, Matthew Gray Gubler

He's so goofy, I love him

Word Count: 2.1k~

(C/n) : Character name for the show

I think even after all the years of doing acting, I will never be able to feel completely comfortable in an interview. Over time, it's gotten easier, but the lingering feeling of nervousness still creeps up into me. I always worry I'll say something that can be taken out of context, or I'll blurt out something I wasn't supposed to reveal just yet. However, if I'm with friends or co-workers during an interview, the anxiety isn't so prevalent.

Thankfully, right now, I'm in one of the rooms on set with four of my closest friends as a reporter from a nearby magazine publishing company interviews us. Kirsten, A.J., and Shamar sit along the largest sofa while Matthew and I share the loveseat in the room. It's fitting, actually.

Over time, Matthew and I have formed a relationship with each other outside of filming Criminal Minds. It wasn't planned, of course. We met on set knowing our characters would soon be forming a romantic relationship, and so, we started a friendship to better portray the chemistry on set. However, that chemistry went farther than I could've expected in such a short time, and now we sit as two lovers who can't reveal themselves to the world just yet.

In the show, my character, (C/n), and Spencer still haven't gotten together. They're perfect for each other, my character having been written specifically for Spencer's character, but they have issues like any other two people trying to get together. It's lead to a lot of ups and downs with many fans going online to tell us to just kiss already. Luckily for them, the next episode that's next to come finally breaks through that relationship barrier and our characters get together. Because of this, the producer has told us that it was alright Matthew and I could be together off-screen - however, we must keep our relationship secret and hidden away from the public to avoid any spoilers about the episode being released.

Due to the pressure of trying not to do any of the things I would usually do with Matthew, I'm a bit scared of this interview. I know the interviewer is going to ask us questions about our ever growing on-show relationship - that's a definite. With the increasing romantic tension between our two characters, I don't even think she has to ask any questions to get the answer she wants. It's happening, and it's obvious.

Once the interviewer enters the room, she introduces herself as Lacey and greets us all with a welcoming smile. Sitting down in the only arm chair in the room, she starts off by talking about the recent season to the camera while other cameras pan around to catch video of us all. With all of us being watched and recorded, Matthew waits until the cameras are pointing away from us before sliding his hand discreetly over to mine and linking our pinkies together. The simple action, makes me a bit calmer as a smile soon makes its way to my lips.

"So, JJ And Will," The interviewer starts, facing A.J. with the same smile as before, her arm draped against the arm rest while her leg is crossed over the other. "Are they thinking about having any more kids after this recent one? Maybe another boy, or a girl for change?"

At the question, A.J. smiles with a small laugh. "I think for now, Henry and Michael are enough for Jennifer," She explains, folding her hands together and placing them in her lap. "Plus, I think Mekhai and Phoenix are enough for me at the moment too," A.J. adds, causing all to laugh with her. The boys are wonderful, but with Phoenix barely six months old at the moment, I can understand why she would be apprehensive over thinking about another baby so soon.

"They are adorable kids, A.J.," Lacy tells her, earning a warm 'thank you' back. Turning toward Kirsten and Shemar, Lacey asks them her next question. "What about your characters?" She asks, "Are there anymore developing things to soon come along?"

"Just the same ol' incessant flirting from this old woman," Shemar jokes, earning a slap to his arm from Kirsten much to our amusement. However, Shemar quickly earns his friendship back from Kirsten with a hug as she struggles to keep her angry face. "But it's the flirting that I love! I love it! I'm glad it's incessant!" He further clarifies, taking Kirsten in his arms and swaying her as she laughs at him.

With that, our laughter grows until finally quieting down as Kirsten is back to wrapping her arms around Shemar's neck in a non-threatening gesture. This time, the interviewer turns toward Matthew and me with a smirk on her lips, his hand having already left mine moments ago as we felt the questions coming.

"Now," Lacey begins, her voice slow and calculated. I can't help but feel a bit anxious under her unmoving stare. "We have seen the relationship between (C/n) and Spencer grow and have breakthroughs on-screen, but, my question is..." She then pauses, her smirk turning into a grin. "What all do you have to say about yours and Matthew's relationship off-screen?"

Her question takes me by surprise. All of the questions we've been asked before were centered around the relationship between mine and Matthew's characters - never are they about me and Matthew in real life. We always chalked it up to the fact that we make sure we're careful in not revealing that we do have a relationship, but maybe Lacey just kind of sensed it. Although, how could she not?

"Oh, well," I start, looking over at Matthew as he smiles at me. To the others, it's just a plain, nonchalant smile, but to me, I can see the corner of his lips turning up into a smirk. "Our relationship is nothing more than friends," I lie, my voice calm as I continue lightly grinning. "We play around and joke around with each other constantly. We're very close," I add, being truthful for once. I know that Matthew desperately wants to stop hiding our relationship from the public, as do I, but we can't. At least, not for another week.

Lacey hums a response with the smirk back on her lips. "So, Matthew's arm around your shoulder was just a friend thing?" She can't help but ask.

"Okay, so, we're best friends!" I exclaim, rolling my eyes before letting out a small laugh. "Two friends can put their arms around each other without it meaning anything else. Right, Shemar?" I add, hearing the man in question agree with a 'I know that's right'. Meanwhile, Matthew has his own way of dealing with the unwanted questions.

"Whoah!" Matthew states, leaning back with a blank look, his hands help up in surprise. "Did you just friendzone me, babe?" He asks in a ridiculous voice, making me stifle a laugh. He's so goofy, but I guess he's trying to help me play it off all the while calming me down too. Like anything else he does for me, he's doing it successfully.

"You're lucky I even said 'best friend,' buddy," I add, crossing my arms with a smirk as I lean back against the couch rather than Matthew's arm like before. Meanwhile, Matthew just stares at me with his mouth agape, trying not to laugh at my words.

"Bu-buddy?!" He questions, purposely stuttering the word for a dramatic effect. "My heart!" He shouts, slapping a hand to his chest. This time, everyone begins laughing at our exchange as we smile at each other and slowly settle back down.

Thankfully, realizing that she won't get the answer she was wanting, Lacey doesn't question mine and Matthew's relationship again, nor does she ask anything more about Spencer and (C/n)'s growing relationship either. In fact, her attention is so far away from me and Matthew at this point that she doesn't even notice our new position with my back against Matthew's chest and his arm lazily strewn across my lap. Any other time, this wouldn't be happening, but with us establishing that we're just "friends" like Shemar and Kristen (funny enough, the only two that actually do know about our relationship), I feel as if we're in the clear.

After the interview is over and we're all released to head back to our dressing rooms, I make my way to mine with the intention of taking my makeup off before heading home and taking a nap. Of course, when I say 'home,' I mean mine and Matthew's apartment. Unfortunately, it's yet another thing we have to hide from everyone else.

Just as I toss my used makeup wipe into the trash bin, I hear my dressing room door open behind me before shortly closing afterward with a click. Turning around to see who walked in, I'm greeted by the person whom I want to see the most, and we can't help but smile at each other as soon as our eyes meet. Barely a few seconds pass before Matthew's arms are around me and my lips are on top of his.

Despite our touches being soft and sweet, they soon turn into something more as I find myself pressed against my dressing room counter with Matthew in between my legs and his hands planted firmly on my waist. "Matthew," I murmur in between kisses as his lips move down to my jaw. I know that if we don't stop now, there will be no stopping at all.

"Matthew, we can't," I whisper, pulling myself back to look at him. Staring back at me with lust blown eyes, I watch as he tries to catch his breath while I do the same. Having to hide our relationship everywhere we go builds up a certain passion that sometimes comes out in situations like now. Although, it's usually at home and not where practically anyone can catch us. "Not here."

"Why? No one's going to hear us," He quickly points out, shrugging as if it were nothing. Diving back into my neck, Matthew presses his lips onto the skin of my collarbone, prompting me to move a hand to his head and tug his hair back. Thankfully, this brings a halt to his actions, and instead of crying out in pain, Matthew jerks his head back into my hand and sighs through his nose, smirking. "Unless you keep that up."

Resisting the urge to laugh, I shake my head at him. "That's what I'm saying!" I almost exclaim, moving my hands to the sides of his smiling face. "Besides, we haven't come out as official yet. We were told to wait until next week's episode that way we don't give away our character's relationship at the same time," I remind him, feeling my heart slowly break as his smile falters.

Knowing that I'm right, Matthew sighs before laying his head against my chest in defeat. "I know, but I'm tired of waiting," He murmurs, his voice gentle and almost in-audible. Out of the two of us, I think Matthew's the one that this affects the most.

"Me too," I agree, my hand that had previously pulled at his hair now soothingly combing through the longer locks. "But, it's just another week, just one more," I point out, reminding us both that we don't have to wait that long anymore. "And then we can finally kiss and hold hands and hug without having a finger waved at us."

Nodding with a chuckle, Matthew continues resting against my chest as I massage his scalp. Although, a flip is switched within a matter of seconds and he's back to smirking. "You know, we could always just give them a sneak peek, nothing more," He suggests, turning his head to nuzzle further into the exposed skin from my v-neck blouse.

"Matthew, you are an animal!" I quietly exclaim, laughing as I have to once again push him away. With him grinning playfully, I move to stand back up in front of him, a similar grin making its way onto my face before I lean up and press my lips to his in a soft, but quick kiss. "I do love you though."

Smiling at my comment, Matthew tightens his arms around me and holds me close, my face now pressed into his chest for a change. "I love you too, (Y/n)," He murmurs, lowering his head as I feel him press a kiss to my hair. One more week is all we have to wait before revealing anything, and honestly, I don't know if this man is going to last that long.

And to be honest, I can't blame him.

[waterloolovers]

One Shots:

please be sure to read the tags and author's note before reading. Some of my stories may contain triggering material. Always read the tags and the author's notes.

say (don't go) - Alex storms the castle, Henry doesn't tell him to stay 4.1K

if you don't know (let me go) - Alex leaves this time 2.1K

break up with your girlfriend (cause I'm bored) - Alex and Nora are Henry's new coworkers, but Henry is mistaken and jealous 3K

under the mistletoe - Henry's flight home is cancelled, so he spends Christmas in Austin with Alex's family, friends to lovers 2.2K

countdown to midnight - New Year's Eve at the shelter 1.2K

kiss me, and tell me that I'll see you again - Alex and Henry meet at a gay bar, and are each other's NYE kiss 2K

how would you feel if I told you I loved you? - Henry loves Alex, and confesses anonymously. Until it's no longer anonymous. 3.3K

I think I'm falling for you - Henry goes to singles night at the skating rink for Valentine's Day, where he meets Alex 2.8K

is it cool that I said all that? (is it chill that you're in my head?) - Alex admits his feelings for Henry, and it doesn't initially go how he planned 1.6K

pay attention (gyms are dangerous) - Henry sees Alex doing hip thrusts at the gym, based on THAT video 1.9K

(you can start) a family who will always show you love - Henry joins the Diaz family easter and experiences confetti eggs for the first time 2.1K

I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life - based on Black and White by Niall Horan, friends to lovers 1.5K

there's a fire inside of you (that can't help but shine through) - Alex is a witch with a fire affinity, and he runs a metaphysical shop with June and Nora 10.1K

when it all melts down, I'll be there - based on meltdown by Niall Horan

easy for you to say (harder for me to take) - Henry tells Alex to leave, and their reunion 4 months later is not what either of them expected 3.3K

black box warning - based on the song Black Box Warning by Leanna Firestone 2.7K

all along there was some invisible string (tying you to me) - brownstone server summer switcharoo prompt: "the issue here is that you think I'm not head over heels in love with your dumb fucking ass." 2.3K

right place (at the right time) - former poetry author Henry writes his first novel and meets Alex at the book signing. 1.4K

(I'm scared I'm going to) wreck this - Alex and Henry have matching Wreck This journals 2.5K

[warping-realities]

A Better Brighter Future

A brief explanation, this story is a spinoff of Dalton Academy, you don't need to have read that series to understand this story, but you will miss some references. The themes here are also controversial and I need to remind everyone that just because I wrote it doesn't mean I agree with what's happening! Otherwise, a great read for anyone interested!

Director Horace Johnson wasn’t having a good week; in fact, the week he was having was bloody dreadful. The blonde, skinny bloke, fifty years old, had dedicated a good chunk of his adult life to educating young people, finding that calling shortly after leaving university. A staunch defender of human rights and a proponent of positive education, he faced all sorts of problems with reactionary teachers throughout his career, none worse than Ethan Wood, the former PE teacher at King Richard All Boys Institute, affectionately referred to by everyone in the tiny village of Daffodil-Meadow-Over-The-Hill as Lionheart School. However, after numerous run-ins over the three years he’d been the head of that institution, he finally got fed up with the other bloke's speeches, attitudes, and teaching style, and thanks to an anonymous tip about some dodgy behaviour that led to his dismissal, nearly all the students and many of the  teachers breathed a sigh of relief; that sort of hardline, oppressive treatment had no place in today’s world. The one thing Horace couldn’t imagine was the struggle to find a replacement who shared his progressive ideals, not to mention the fact that he had to deal with the backlash from some conservative parents, teachers, and board members. Just another battle they were fighting; he should have known, it was like that when he banned the posh uniforms or tried to authorise the use of gender-neutral pronouns – one battle won, another lost. But he was determined to come out on top again; he refused to put another outdated troglodyte in that position. A better, brighter future was the motto of that school, and he was going to make it happen.

While he was mulling over these issues, sitting in his office with a good cup of tea, his privacy was invaded. With a loud BAM, the door to his office was flung open, causing him to quickly raise his eyes from the document he was reading, only to see the monstrous figure striding towards him. A black man in his thirties, dressed in a polo shirt, tracky bottoms, and trainers, exuding the brash vibe of a sports coach, swaggered confidently in his direction. He couldn’t remember scheduling any interview, and certainly not with someone so rude, who gave off exactly the impression of the type of professional he refused to hire.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to leave this room; I’m busy and we haven’t got a time booked!” he said, standing up and positioning himself beside his desk, noting the absurd difference in build and muscle between the two.

“And since when do old mates need permission to see you, Henry?”

“That’s not my name!”

“I know that, Henderson, you tosser, but if you reckon I’m not gonna use your nickname just because you’re the head honcho of a fancy school now, you’re sorely mistaken. Just wait until the lads on the rugby team find out the Steamroller Henry is all posh now; they’ll be laughing their heads off!”

“Sir, I… I don’t know what you’re on about… I insist you leave!”

“Now that’s the Henry I know, always ready to pull a fast one on his mates.” The man said, slumping down in the armchair opposite his desk. “But enough of the banter, mate. After you got in touch, I did a bit of digging into what’s going on around here, and you’ve got some serious problems. Losing a bloke like Ethan Wood must have been a right kick in the teeth, especially after scrapping the uniforms; they might have been a bit too posh, but they helped maintain a sense of unity and shared identity. Good on you for getting rid of that daft idea of using gender-neutral pronouns. Still, mate, I can see why you need me here. Transforming these crybabies into real men can’t be easy, but don’t you worry; you called the right person!”

“I… what…? I don’t get it…”

“What’s hard to understand, Henry? You need help to rein in this progressive agenda that’s trying to take root here, so you called your old uni mate Blake Ian Garret, The BIG and said, ‘Mate, I need your help with these wankers trying to sabotage me; old Wood is out, I need you for the job!’”

“I… Blake… BI… BIG, then… do you accept?”

“Of course I do, you muppet; it’s exactly what I’ve been banging on about! That whisky you’re drinking is probably messing with your already dodgy brain. I wonder how they let you become a director, Henry; not that I’m complaining, we need more blokes like us in charge.”

“I also wonder how I ended up here; I only became a teacher because that dodgy Wood promised to pass on his job to me when he retired, and next thing I know, I’m stuck in this boring role and now I have to give the job I wanted to an arse.” He said with fake exasperation. 

“Shut it, mate; I know you missed having another real man around here, and while I explain how things work in the place I was working, why don’t you pour me a bit of that drink? I think you’ll love hearing about Dalton Academy.” The man commented, noticing the change happening in Horace Johnson. In a blur of movement, the skinny man’s body expanded in muscle and height, while the wrinkles vanished from his face and his blonde hair started to grow back where it had receded. In less than a second, Henderson “Henry” Johnson found himself grinning, offering a glass of whisky that hadn’t been there before to his old university friend and now professor Blake Garret, The BIG in his realm.

“A toast to the best hire I could have made,” he said, raising the glass to his old friend, who broke into a wide smile.

“To a better and brighter future, indeed!”

…..

The students and teachers didn’t know why they were gathered in the school gym. The summons came from Director Johnson himself, and they knew they had to comply quickly, as the man had a military rigidity about that sort of thing, not tolerating any behaviour he deemed lazy. So, what a surprise it was for everyone to see that it wasn’t Henry Johnson heading to the packed gym.

“Good morning, gentlemen! My name’s Blake Garret and I’m the new PE teacher here at Lionheart. The director Johnson and I have known each other for a long time; we were university mates and teammates, and he’s shared with me his concerns about the behaviour and ideals presented here. This nation is infected, gentlemen. Infected by a parasite called progressivism. Progress should be encouraged, yes, but with proper control, guided by the ideas of our parents and ancestors. Progress for the sake of progress should be discouraged!” He said, striding across the gym floor like a caged beast ready to break free, pausing only to observe the indignant faces of some teachers and a few students who bothered to pay attention to what he was saying. But that was about to change, and it was going to be now. “When Henry told me that the infection was spreading here too, I couldn’t believe it. I said to him, ‘Surely not, Henry, my dear. Lionheart is a beacon of clarity amidst a stormy sea of harmful ideas; the teachers are exemplars of masculinity and manliness, and the students are the pinnacle to which every young man in this nation should aspire; surely there’s no such behaviour here.’ But… but now that I’m here, I see! Gentlemen, my eyes fill with tears at what Lionheart is.” He said, taking another pause to take in the disgusted expressions before finally finishing what he had come to do there. “Tears, yes, tears of pride! For you are much more than I imagined, gentlemen. You are paragons of masculinity, the example of what every man should aspire to be; you haven’t allowed yourselves to be contaminated by the corruption attacking our country from within; you are what gives me hope for the future of our great nation.” He said, resuming his frenetic pacing, and with every step he took, the audience transformed; teachers, students, staff, all expanding in size while ideas and thoughts shrank, casual clothes being replaced by training gear that showcased their muscular and defined bodies, while a powerful funk that only dozens of sweaty gathered men could produce dominated the atmosphere, not that anyone there cared about it.

“That was a brilliant welcome drill, lads; now off to the showers and back to your uniforms for your lessons. Teachers, I ask you to stay a bit longer; I need to know about any absent students today.”

….

Franklin was in deep trouble; he missed the bus to school and had to walk all the way from the village of Grimchurch to Daffodil Meadow, which wasn’t pleasant for a skinny, asthmatic kid. The worst part was that he ended up terribly late for school, and knowing the kind of reception he would get, he thought about just not going, but that would bring even bigger complications, so he decided to face his fate with resignation. He was greeted by the guard, who merely directed him to one of the classrooms where a teacher would speak to the late students and administer the necessary punishment. Sighing with resignation, he headed to the indicated location, but upon arriving, something stopped him from entering the room; some sort of primitive alert resonating within his mind. Peeking through the corner of the window, he saw a teacher he didn’t recognise, a tall and very strong man with skin as dark as his own, talking to Bernard, Vincent, and Timothy, three of the biggest truants at Lionheart, who were looking at him with bored expressions. But then, in the blink of an eye, the unthinkable happened; the boys he had known all his life were replaced by larger, stronger, muscular versions, wearing uniforms and smiling as if they were getting drunk on every word the teacher was saying, words which Franklin couldn’t hear. But then the teacher approached the door, and he could hear the end of the speech.

“… rowing at the end of the day; you lot are to be congratulated, I wouldn’t be surprised if any of you ended up representing England at the Olympics. Oh, before you go, Bert and Victor, you’re in the same class as Franklin Burke, right? If you see him, let me know; I need to have a word with the lad, the same goes for you, Tom.”

Hearing that, Franklin took off running, desperate, not fully understanding what he had witnessed but knowing the risk he was in; he urgently needed to get out of there. In his despair, he didn’t notice that the man had left the room and smiled when he saw a skinny kid running toward the changing rooms.

Franklin thought the safest way to escape the trap he had fallen into would be through the school gym, which should be empty at that hour. Sneaking in as quietly as possible, he finally reached the changing area; he just needed to cross it and head to the football pitch, which would be free from whatever was happening there. But there was a hitch: someone was using the changing room. Quickly hiding behind the door, he saw the stranger swaggering arrogantly through the space. Recently out of the shower and wearing only a jock strap, the muscular Chinese lad strutted as if he owned the place. Stopping in front of the mirror, he admired himself. Who could he have been before? No… no… Lionheart only had one Chinese student. That must be… Anshen? Franklin’s best mate… no… this was a nightmare.

“I can see you there, mate!” said the muscular lad, crossing his arms. “Coach BIG is looking for you. I wouldn’t irritate the bloke if I were you.” He added with a cheeky grin. Having been discovered, Franklin stepped out of hiding.

“Anshen… is that you?”

“The name’s Ashton, Franklin. Honestly, how could you forget the name of the captain of the school swimming team?” he said, acting as if that made him the most important person in the room. Without even glancing to the side, he brushed past that aberration towards the corridor leading to the football pitch.

“Hey, mate, the coach’s office is the other way!” shouted the other lad, but Franklin didn’t pay him any mind. He was running anxiously toward the door that was his salvation. Only to see it swing open and the monstrous giant that was walking toward him with a grin. Between the two giants, he chose to face the smaller of the two and took off running in the direction he had come from, without seeing the smile fade from the man's face or hearing him grumble.

“Don’t know why they run…”

Upon reaching the door of the changing room he had just passed through a few seconds ago, he found it locked. How? Ashton must have locked it. Franklin grunted as he cursed the other lad with every ounce of strength not being used to try to open the door.

“It’s useless, lad. Your fate was sealed the moment you set foot in this school. But you know what? I like you; you’ve got fire in you. Turn around.” The man said with authority, and Franklin felt his body obey against his will. Gathering courage, he faced the man.

“Who are you? What are you?”

“What I am is something to be answered another time. Now, who am I? Frankly, Farrel, that’s no way to speak to your godfather.” Coach BIG replied, seemingly hurt, although a slight tremor at the corner of his lips indicated he was actually enjoying himself.

“What? Godfather? I don’t have a godfather and I don’t even know who you are! And who the hell is Farrel?”

“Farrel is my godson; a lad, strong and sure of what he wants. A man who knows a man’s rightful place in society. He’s a bit of a rogue, the type who’s too smart for his own good, always finding a way to dodge consequences. Except when he’s on the pitch; he’s the captain of the rugby team and takes that role seriously, even knowing his future lies in politics, thanks to the silver tongue he possesses. In short, Farrel is you, you great numpty. Now that it’s just the two of us in my office, come give your godfather a hug.”

“I… what? No…!” Franklin stammered as he felt his legs move on their own and a dreamy smile form on his lips, even as he internally screamed in anxiety.

Anxiety? He never got anxious! At least not off the pitch. There he was a monster, a bull. But off it? Off it, he was the face of relaxation. Chill out and have a laugh was Farrel Burke’s motto! Thought the muscular black giant that few would believe was only eighteen years old. While he put on the school uniform in his godfather’s office, admiring his beautiful body and smiling.

“Farrel? Farrel! Bloody hell, lad, can’t you pay attention for a minute?”

“Sorry, Uncle BIG… I mean… Coach BIG… oops… Professor Garret.”

“If you weren’t my godson, I’d give you a right telling off, lad, and just because I’m your godfather doesn’t mean you can use my office as if it were your personal changing room.”

“If you hadn’t dragged me from the changing room, I wouldn’t need to finish getting dressed here!”

“Is that a dig at my behaviour, lad?” BIG asked seriously, his eyes glinting dangerously.

“No, sir, professor. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” The lad replied, sensing the danger.

“Great. As I was saying, I want to implement some of the ideas I brought from Dalton; while you finish getting ready, let me talk to you about the clubs…”

…..

By the end of that week, BIG’s initial work was complete; there were no more students or teachers left to be improved. The uniforms had returned to being the norm, and all the lads were required to be part of at least one of the school’s sports teams. Moreover, the social clubs had been formed, ensuring that the lads, even after school ended, would have a reason to return to Lionheart and not forget what they had learned there. BIG was proud of what he had accomplished, and those above him were too. Now it was time for the expansion phase, to take what was taught at Lionheart outside the school’s walls and fields. BIG’s approach was different from that taken at Dalton; times were different, and in the war they were waging against those who wanted to remove men from their rightful place, there was no room for the discretion adopted by the sister school. Europe was falling too quickly; it was necessary to be more incisive. That’s why Lionheart would focus not only on creating the leaders of tomorrow but a whole generation of influencers, and sport would be their flagship. And there was no sport more popular worldwide than football. Knowing this, the Lionheart team became a priority for BIG, and he created a particularly talented and charismatic group, but they still lacked a coach of the right calibre. But that would soon be resolved, and quickly too; normally, BIG liked to savour the moment he transformed a pathetic figure into a real man. However, as the mass transformation of the first day showed, when the need was pressing, he acted fast. And that Sunday morning, it was needed again. While the lads prepared for training, the stands of the school filled with students from other teams, but also with parents and locals from the surrounding towns. This would be exhausting. And the cherry on top was the old man walking across the field with an angry look directed at BIG, who returned the scorn before breaking into a smile.

Zachariah Hastings, a member of the school board and a staunch conservative, which in theory should please BIG, but the problem was that the old codger was too conservative. Homophobic and racist, he seemed to boil inside the outdated suit he was wearing at that moment. He indeed represented that mythical figure of patriarchy that the snowflakes loved to point out as the cause of all ills: the white, heterosexual, cisgender man. BIG had nothing against a man who was all those things; on the contrary. The problem was that this figure represented everything that the enemies of the brotherhood of men took pleasure in using to attack. BIG’s group merely wanted to return men to their rightful place in society; they didn’t care about race, religion, whether you were an immigrant or who you slept with. Implicating with those things only created divisions, pushing men away from the real goal. And it was precisely for that reason that Zachariah had to go. Without any fanfare or manipulation, in one moment, the old codger was there with a bewildered expression, as if he knew what awaited him, and in the next moment, a fine specimen of a black man, very much like BIG himself, stood in his place, while every man in that audience became an upgraded ally, and BIG enthusiastically announced to everyone the arrival of the legendary Zeke Hastings, newly retired player from Manchester City and multiple-time champion of the Premier League, Champions League, and Euro Cup, to take the position of coach for the school’s football team, sending all the men in that place into a frenzy of delight, while BIG himself smiled, satisfied that the first part of his duty was finally fulfilled.

**Two months earlier**

Barret couldn’t stop tapping his foot while waiting in the posh waiting room of Dalton Academy; after all, this was his big chance, even if he didn’t understand why an American school would be interested in an English literature teacher. Although the whole place reeked of Old Money, perhaps that justified the interest in him.

“You can come in, Mr. Garret.” A metallic voice startled Barret, who looked around for the source, but found none. Collecting himself, he stood up, straightened his suit, and opened the massive door to the office. What he saw there gave him a sense of strangeness. Smiling and walking towards him in a space much larger than would be possible, was a handsome lad, no more than eighteen years old. Was this some sort of prank by the posh students?

“Come in, Mr. Garrett. Barret Garret; your parents had an interesting sense of humour; I would have certainly liked them…” commented the smiling young man before frowning. “Why the scared face? Ahhh, I always forget these modern conventions; in my day, this would already be the appearance of an adult man.” The young man said, his face concentrating, and then, as if by magic, he began to walk towards an office desk that Barret could have sworn hadn’t been there seconds before. When he reached the desk a blonde, older, and muscular man wearing a slightly less formal outfit smiled at Barret. 

“I think you’ll prefer this appearance, my dear. You can call me Mr. Edgar. And even though I’ve used a bit of trickery to bring you here, since unfortunately there’s no place for you on Dalton’s faculty, by the time we finish our conversation, it’ll be as if you know the place better than you do yourself, and I guarantee the goal I have in mind for you will leave you quite satisfied. Put a smile on that face and step in.” Even against his will, in that incomprehensible situation, Barret found himself smiling and stepped into the creature’s lair.

If anyone who wasn’t an active member of Dalton was watching what was going on, they would have been shocked. But within those walls, it was almost routine. A young, well-dressed black man hesitating in front of a portal, only to, upon crossing it, see his body modify and expand, while he aged a few years, though that only made him even more charming; his slow steps transforming into the confident stride of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. And anyone who knew Blake Ian Garret, coach BIG, could tell that that impression would be correct, though incomplete. BIG not only knew what he wanted but would also do everything in his power to achieve his goals. And those goals at the moment consisted of returning to England to find a way to occupy a position at Lionheart School, which conveniently was established on top of one of the largest dormant power points of the old country, but which only needed a spark to awaken. A spark that Mr. Edgar handed to him, only demanding in return that he use that power to ensure that the occupants of the place, both the established ones and those who would come, and even the unsuspecting traveler passing through, became the right kind of men. The exact type that BIG himself represented.

….

**6 months later**

“Son, I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think. I survived high school; you will too.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to be transferred in the middle of the second year to a school with the highest concentration of wanker athletes that would have certainly made your life a nightmare.”

“Duncan, I understand; I was transferred as well, remember? I need to make friends at work too.”

“Dad, that’s completely different; none of your colleagues are going to shove your head in a toilet or anything like that.”

“I’m sure that only happens in films, Duncan.”

The pair of overweight blonde father and son walked through the corridors of the Lionheart Institute towards Director Johnson. The truth is that even Alex, the father, was not comfortable with that arrangement, but there was nothing to be done; Lionheart was the best school in the area, and he refused to send his son away from him. Duncan was a shy and reserved kid, just like he had been at that age. That school would be a challenge, but any other would be too, and there he would be close by if something happened.

“Dad, didn’t you read the articles I sent you? This journalist, Aaryan Patel, wrote a series of them talking about what goes on here; all the students here, regardless of where they came from, are some kind of athletes; some have even competed in the Olympics. And there’s more; all of them have behaviour described as toxic; some have been banned from giving interviews; some bloke named Ashton Zhang won a bronze medal in Paris but said so much rubbish about the opening ceremony that he almost got banned from competing.”

“Well, then they’ll know what it’s like to have a mathlete among them now! And who knows, you might become a good influence on them or even get motivated to take up some sport; exercise does wonders for a young lad.”

“Says the man who’s never set foot on a court in his life…”

“Duncan, enough! You’re coming to study here, and that’s final.” The father snapped, as he noticed a giant figure approaching confidently down the corridor.

“But Dad, I think Aaryan Patel has a point…”

“Duncan! I don’t want to hear you talking about Aaryan Patel anymore!”

“You do quite well.” Commented the giant black man approaching them, his smile vanishing upon hearing that name. “Mr. Patel has only been defaming the good name of this school with lies and distortions, when what he should be doing is praising the performance of our students in all areas of life. I’m Professor Garret and I believe you are Archibald and Duncan, am I right?”

“In fact, my name is Alexander…”

“Ah, some misunderstanding then.” Commented the professor with a cheeky smile before continuing. “Director Johnson should have welcomed you, but he had a slight hiccup and asked me to do it for him. I thought I’d chat with you, Archibald, while one of the lads shows Duncan around the school. Where is that rascal? Ah, here he comes.” Professor Garret finished speaking without giving Alexander a chance to correct him about the name error, although he himself had forgotten it when he saw the lad strutting down the corridor, almost like a mini version of the professor. Although saying that anything about that lad was mini would be an affront. Broad shoulders and strong limbs pushing the limits of the school’s smart black uniform, made up of a full suit, tie, and dress shoes that must have been tailor-made to fit the boats that were his feet, the overall effect was one of sophistication but also of dominance and confidence that left Alexander gaping and Duncan, who was already fearful, completely terrified.

“Good day, Coach BIG… hum… Professor Barret; good day, sir.” The lad said politely, although a mischievous sparkle danced in his eyes.

“Farrell, my boy. Would you be so kind as to show the school’s facilities to Duncan here while Archie and I have a chat?”

“With pleasure, Professor Garret. Would you be so kind as to accompany me, Duncan?” He said, positioning himself next to the other lad who, although overweight, was shorter and lighter than him, before turning to Alexander with a cheeky grin. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Archie.”

“The pleasure was mine, lad.” replied Alex, again forgetting to correct the name error. “We’ll see you in a bit, Duke.” He ended up saying to his son, who looked at him first with wide eyes of pleading and then in surprise at how his father had called him. But there was nothing to be done, for at that moment the muscular giant lad took him by the arm and carried him down the corridor, while his father walked away in the opposite direction, chatting amiably with the behemoth that was Professor Garret.

BIG entered his office and sat down at the desk, although he hadn’t asked Archibald to enter, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

“So, Archibald Dunhan, that name doesn’t sound unfamiliar to me.” Commented the professor.

“Well, it’s not exactly a common name these days.” Archibald replied, accepting the name as if he had always used it.

“No, it’s not… Archibald, Archibald Dunhan, Archie, Archie Dunhan! But of course! Wall Archie! You could have been a legend at Arsenal, material for the England team, if it weren’t for that nasty injury in that game against Manchester City; but from what I know, your career as a player agent isn’t going too badly.”

“I… I think you’re confusing me with someone.” Archibald timidly replied, still standing at the door. Just the idea of thinking of himself as a former footballer was hilarious. Although he was indeed a die-hard Arsenal fan and risked a few matches with his mates on weekends. No, not that…

“No, I’m not mistaken; you were a leak-proof goalkeeper, you were a wall indeed, Archie; don’t let something that wasn’t your fault bring you down.”

“That accident ruined me, mate…” Archie found himself responding automatically. What the hell was he talking about?

“I know, but managing guys like Haaland and De Bruyne is also a success story. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Believe me, no one has ever accused me of being too humble!” Why would he say something like that???

“Then we’ve got the same problem!” replied Garret, bursting into laughter, and Archie joined in, unable to contain himself, stopping with a startled look only when the other man spoke to him again.

“What are you doing standing there, Archie? Come in, come in; we’ve got Duke’s future to discuss.”

Hearing that name stirred something in Archie; there was something very wrong with all of this, but then he took a step into the room, and everything changed. In a blur of movement and colour, his muscles expanded, height increased impressively, and fat seemed to evaporate from his body. When he stopped smiling in front of the other man, any trace of humility or shame had left his body. He was one of the most successful sports agents in the country; there was no reason to worry about that sort of thing.

“BIG, you’ve got 5 minutes to convince me to bring my son to this school, mate.”

“Archie, you know me you wanker; I can do it in three.”

….

“Take a seat, chubby; I’m not going to give you a hard time.” Said the muscular black lad to Duncan, although he clearly was already doing that. The moment Duncan’s dad and the teacher left their line of sight, Farrel dropped the politeness, throwing aside all false pleasantries, revealing himself to be exactly the type of person Duncan believed and feared he would be. He didn’t show anything Duncan might find relevant about the school’s facilities, leading the lad through some of the many sports facilities on site. They had courts for all sorts of sports imaginable, gym equipment, swimming pools, running tracks, and even a complete weightlifting gym. After the exhausting tour of Jockland, they finally arrived at the spacious and luxuriously furnished room where they were.

“I’d rather stand, thanks.” Duncan said, approaching the window of the room, which overlooked the well-kept football pitch of the institution.

“You know best, but carrying all that weight can’t be good for your knees.” Farrel commented venomously, as he took off the top part of the school uniform with no ceremony and flopped down on the sofa in the room. “But that won’t last long; BIG will have you sweating off all that flab in no time.”

“I wish you’d stop making comments about my body.”

“When you’ve got the physique of a real man, I’ll stop, chubby. And trust me, you will; in no time, no one will recognise you, not even you.”

“I’m fine as I am; I don’t intend to change anything.”

“As if anyone here gives a toss about what you think, lad. I repeat, soon you’ll be one of the lads at Lionheart and won’t even remember the wimp you are now. And even if you did, you’d be ashamed of what you let this society do to you.”

“I won’t let myself change; you can do what you want with me, humiliate me, torture me; I won’t change.” Duncan replied, feeling an uncharacteristic rage and turning from the window, seeing for the first time Farrel’s bare chest, which made him blush deeply, while the other lad shot him an intrigued look.

“Seeing something you like, chubby? You a queer or something? Not that I have a problem with it; It’s an all boys school after all, and the lads have their needs. Besides I know what my body does to others." He said, flexing his powerful muscles as if he was at some kind of obscene show, which made Duncan look back at the window, only turning around when the other spoke again, hitting the target this time."No, no… it’s a different kind of desire, isn’t it? Ever thought about having a body like this? Ever wished for muscles like these?” He conclude, looking distracted for a moment, as if he were reliving an old memory.

“I don’t need that; I’ve got my mind, and it’s more powerful than any bulging muscle.”

“Loooser! I wish I could record this and show it to my new bro when he comes out of you; it’ll surely make him die of embarrassment.”

“I… what?”

“You know where we are, Duke? At the headquarters of one of the Lionheart clubs, my club; not just anyone gets in here, but I decided you’d be one of the lucky ones. I’m the captain of the rugby team and would love to have you with us, but the boss has other plans. Speaking of which, you know what’s even more curious? The club is located exactly one floor above Coach BIG’s office. An office that has a direct exit to the football pitch. That exit, I believe, must have been used quite recently, so while you’re at the window, tell me what you see.” Farrel asked, his eyes sparkling and his voice filled with an uncontrollable mix of eagerness and excitement.

Without really knowing why he was obeying the other lad, Duncan looked outside, initially seeing nothing of note, but then his gaze landed on the pitch, and what he saw shocked him. Professor Garrett, who at that moment should have been with Duncan’s father, was walking across the pitch, bare-chested and laughing animatedly with a blonde man who was just as monstrous and muscular as he was. But if Garret was there, where was Alexand… Archibald?

“I don’t get it? Where’s my dad?”

“With all that talk about intellect, I thought you’d be smarter, Duke.”

“My name isn’t…”

“Duke!” Duncan read the lips of the gigantic blond man more than he heard him speak as he waved vigorously, beckoning him to join him and Garret on the pitch. Why would a complete stranger act that way? Unless… unless he wasn’t a complete stranger.

“No… it’s impossible…”

“Finally, you got it, chubby, although I think this will be the last time I can call you that.”

“No… dad?” Duncan asked, although the man who continued to wave excitedly couldn’t hear him. “What did they do to you?”

“Oh, old BIG has a thing for The gentlemen’s sport; even though he’s never been a pro himself. I’d say we’d put you on my team, and that would be that. But for a former pro rugby player, he doesn’t value us much. He says nothing gets as much visibility as football, and our team is about to lose the captain to a contract, and we still don’t have a worthy replacement. Plus, the old rogue managed to create a connection with someone who can get him the best seats at the games.”

“I don’t understand…”

“You don’t need to understand, Duke; you just need to accept.”

“I can’t accept this… I won’t accept this…”

“Duke?”

“What!?! He screamed back, enraged in response.

“Come over here, mate.”

“I’m not your mate, mate!”

“Of course you are; you’re my little bro; me and Ash were looking forward to finally having our little brother with us! Farrel, Duke, and Ashton, best mates. FDA, like the American agency, and like them, we run the bloody show! F for a lot of food, D for drugs to grow and an A for, shit what is the A again? Let it be A for awesome because that's what we are, mate!"

“I…”

“Think about it, Duke; you want to make your dad proud.”

“Yes…” he replied, shivering at hearing that.

“Then get your arse off that window and come with me to meet him; for you, I’d even play a match of football just to see the old geezers eat dust.”

“Haha, I want to see you try to score on my dad, F! The bloke’s a wall; not that he can stop his son from scoring.”

“That’s what I want to see; let’s go, then.” Farrel insisted, and Duke finally took a step back and went to meet his fate. In an instant, the fat seemed to be sucked from his body as his muscles expanded into a strong and toned physique, far from the giant muscle mass of Farrel or his father after the forced retirement and years dedicated to bodybuilding. A slim and strong body, except for the long, powerful legs with thighs capable of exploding a watermelon if it were squeezed between them. His unkempt hair giving way to a well-groomed cut, the sad, chubby face transforming into a beautiful, almost angelic face, but still unable to completely hide the mischief within him, easily identified by the cheeky smile playing on his lips at that moment.

“Don’t know why you’re so excited, bro; with that size, dribbling you will be the easiest thing in the world.”

“Watch what you say, scrawny boy.”

“This is definition, something a ogre like you will never know what it is.”

“Come talk about agility when you compete with me in rugby.”

“And why would I stuff myself into a game with a bunch of lard arses?”

“Who are you calling fat, punk?”

“Not me, your body mass index.”

“You’re getting quite cheeky there, lad. I want to see you crack jokes on the pitch.” Farrel replied with false irritation.

“When I get past you, you won’t even notice, chubby!”

….

Aaryan Patel was absolutely fuming; he had no idea why his boss at the Independent Herald had sent him from London to that conservative hellhole that Daffodil Meadow had become. And to top it all off, he was heading straight to the epicentre of that rubbish, the King Richard Institute for Boys, aka Lionheart School. A place he had written a series of scathing articles about in recent months, which didn’t mean he wanted to walk into the lion’s den, especially when it was the lion himself who had sent the invitation. But his editor insisted it was too good an opportunity to pass up, and now here he was, walking purposefully along the edge of the grass on the school’s grand football pitch towards Director Johnson, who was at that moment in one of the few empty stands. Apparently, it was a tradition for the school and the surrounding villages to gather every evening to watch some sort of competition from the different teams, and today it was a football match. What didn’t make sense was the question Aaryan kept asking himself: why the hell did Henderson Johnson make him walk across the pitch where the students were parading around with their muscular bodies on display while the school staff prepared everything for the match?

As Aaryan made his way to his destination, he passed two muscular black blokes wearing the infamous light blue polo shirt of the sports team, one of whom was much bigger than the other. The one he wanted to take down the most. However, when the larger man glanced at Aaryan as he walked towards the nearest entrance to the stands, the lad who considered himself a brave man felt his knees go weak. Feeling angry with himself as he watched the two lugs burst into laughter, Aaryan quickened his pace and climbed the stands to meet Director Johnson.

“Mr. Patel, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person after reading the rather vehement words you used to describe me, my school, and my students.” The man said with a threatening smile. But Aaryan wasn’t going to let himself be intimidated; he was indeed brave, and although he was much leaner than the brute, he wasn’t a total wimp; he could handle whatever the other bloke had to throw at him. And any words spoken would receive an appropriate response from his sharp mind.

“Vehement is an appropriate but incomplete description of what I have to say about this place, Director Johnson. And that description could also be applied to the behaviour of the people here, although belligerent might be a more fitting term.”

“And you know a thing or two about belligerence, don’t you? Big guy like you? Bet you’ve had your fair share of scraps, haven’t you, Aaron?”

“The name’s Aaryan! And I prefer to fight with words.”

“Ha, I knew there was a fighter in you; I never miss.” The man commented as if Aaryan's response had been completely different, leaving the journalist confused for a moment. Quickly shaking off that momentary confusion, he turned back to the giant blonde.

“So, Director Johnson, what’s the purpose of summoning me here? And summon is the right word; my editor informed me that you pressured him quite insistently and intimidatingly, I should add.”

“Right, lad, I just wanted you to see for yourself what it’s really like here, what you’ve been so harsh about. You might not realise it, but what you write affects people’s lives, people I care about; my staff and my students.”

“Forgive me, Director Johnson, but the actions of those people you care about affect many others’ lives.”

“You paint us as monsters, Aaron, but do what I asked you: roam about, chat with my students and teachers; there’s one teacher in particular who’s quite eager to have a word with you.” The director said, smiling and nodding towards the pitch where Blake Garrett was watching closely as Zeke Hastings paced back and forth, correcting both teams’ players’ positions.

A chill ran down his spine at the thought of talking to that man. Forgetting to correct the misuse of his name, he responded to the director.

“Alright, I’ll do that, but I don’t think anything will change my mind. I’m sure the teachers are lost causes by now and the students are probably already conditioned to the behaviours taught here.”

“We’re not a cult, Aaron, but if you want a fresh opinion, why not have a chat with the centre-forward for the black team? The blonde lad in number 9. Duke has been at the school for less than a week; see what he has to say after the game.”

“I know how to identify a centre-forward, thanks! And I think I’ll do just that; cheers!” replied the journalist, who until a few minutes ago certainly couldn’t identify any positions.

After chatting with some students and teachers who repeated the same toxic spiel about masculine values, manliness, and the rightful place a man should occupy in society, Aaryan felt drained. Coming here had certainly been a bad idea. He thought about leaving and writing another scathing article about the evils of that place. However, he realised that the game had finally come to an end when he saw the blonde centre-forward walking to the edge of the pitch, opening a bottle of water and taking a long swig that practically emptied the bottle in one gulp. As Aaryan approached him, the lad poured the remaining water over his sweaty hair, then shook it off vigorously just as Aaryan reached him.

“Good afternoon, lad; my name’s Aaryan Patel, Director Johnson told me I could have a word with you.” He said, moving closer to the lad and using an authoritative figure as a reference to ensure the lad paid attention; he had dealt with many of those arrogant lads in the past couple of hours to give the kid a chance to mock him or simply ignore him.

“Eh?” The lad huffed, flexing his muscles and shaking the soaked t-shirt. This was pretty much the expected behaviour from any football player giving an interview after an hour and a half of strenuous exercise. What Aaryan, as any good fan of the game, should have remembered. So he repeated the information to the lad.

“My name’s Aaryan and you’re Duke, right? I want to ask you a few things about the school.”

“Sure, mate.” The lad replied, looking more awake after taking off his shirt and showing off his powerful physique, even though it was clear that not much was going on upstairs. This diminished Aaryan’s hopes of getting any productive conversation, as it was obvious the lad belonged there. Still, he decided to press on; when in Rome…

“So, what do you think of the school? Settling in well?”

“Aaron, mate, this place is brilliant! I begged for nearly two years to come here, but my dad thought I’d have better chances of getting signed if I kept training in a bigger city. It was only when Coach BIG took over the sports department that he was convinced.”

“Um… just out of curiosity, who’s your dad?”

“Haha, as if you don’t know who he is, Aaron, mate! I’m not some little kid to fall for your tricks.” The lad replied, giving a thumbs up.

“What are you on about?” Aary… Aaron asked, confused. But then something worse happened; the lad turned to the middle of the pitch where his teammates were milling about, shirtless, chatting and joking under the watchful eye of the coach, who was in turn under the direct supervision of the head of the sports department, the infamous BIG, who was precisely the person the lad was addressing.

“Oi, Coach BIG! Come meet my mate, Aaron.” And to Aaron’s horror, the man who instilled all his primal fears turned to him, serious for being interrupted, but soon a mischievous grin spread across his face.

Strutting towards the two with all the arrogance in the world, looking at Aaron with the same gaze a lion gives to a gazelle before it attacks, making Aaron’s knees tremble… but why? He should respect the bloke, of course… but no matter how big he was, Aaron could handle him… how? Certainly not with words… hey… what was he thinking here? What intrusive thoughts were those? However, he had no time to fight against those ideas so contrary to his essence because at that moment, the coach was standing before him, eclipsing everything else with his immense physical presence.

“Aaryan Patel, the man of the moment! You have no idea how much I wanted to meet you!”

“It’s Aaron… sir.” He added. The respect for the figure of coaches ingrained in him wouldn’t allow him to respond any other way. But why so much respect?

“When young Duke told me he knew you, I couldn’t resist the idea of bringing him here. But where exactly do you two know each other from?”

“Eh… what?” He had just met the lad, right? But then where did the memories of him teaching the kid fighting positions come from? Fighting? What fighting? In the midst of his confusion, it was Duke who answered.

“It’s my dad’s agency that looks after Aaron’s career, coach. In fact, he’s been following Aaron from the beginning; he’s spent more time at our house than at his own over the last few years.”

“Oh, of course. A cunning man like Archie wouldn’t let a talent like that slip through his fingers.” Agency, what agency? Big-name journalists needed agents, but a rookie like Aaron… mate, in his world, even rookies needed a decent agent; it was the difference between a million-dollar career and retirement in the gutter, and Wall Archie was the best; after all, he had experienced firsthand how cruel that world could be. Yeah, the world was a cruel place, and it was his duty to expose those ills… No, not that, what he needed to do was fight… yes, fight for improvements in society… mate, society was what it was and that was that… in this life, you either lose or win, and Aaron Blink Patel, rising star of the heavyweight MMA scene, was born to win. He earned the nickname for the short time he needed to take down opponents. Which was almost the same amount of time he dedicated to interviews with journalists. He didn’t need many words in his life, being known for keeping his opinion to himself, aware of what the media vultures could do to his career. The only time he expressed his opinions was when he was with his friends, when he let out all the intensity inside him, in conversations filled with cheeky banter and heated praises of masculinity in today’s world. And if there was someone who was the ultimate representation of masculinity, it was Aaron Fucking Blink Patel!

“No… no…”

“Aaron, mate, it’s all good?”

“Of course it is, Duke; it’s just the fighter inside him manifesting, but now it’s just a matter of a blink and it’ll all be sorted.” Coach BIG commented.

“Just a blink…” Aaron grumbled, and then… blink… and… his toned, lean torso expanded like a flower blooming, if flowers were made of huge, protruding muscles and their scent was an animalistic musk, with a touch of spices that didn’t go unnoticed even in that place full of sweaty young men… blink … and his legs exploded in size and power needed to crush opponents… blink… and the years dedicated to reading and research evaporated, replaced by training in jiu-jitsu, boxing, and Muay Thai… blink… and all the pent-up rage inside him flowed out in flowery words in sharp texts, concentrating in the massive paws that were his fists and feet… wink… and Aaron Blink Patel found himself smiling at the man and the lad before him, an image seen only by those the fighter deemed worthy. But he’d known Duke since he was younger than the kid, and after hearing the glowing praise he gave about his new coach, the man earned Aaron’s respect without needing to lift a finger.

“Sorry, what were you saying, sir?”

“You can call me Coach BIG; Aaron is what everyone calls me.”

“Yes, sir.” He replied, causing Duke to burst into laughter.

“You’re a lost cause, mate.”

“Actually, I think Aaron is a great example to follow; I wish my rowdy students had his level of respect.” Coach BIG commented, his voice cutting, making the lad’s smile fade instantly. “By the way, after I speak to the team, I’d love for you to have a word with those rascals, Aaron. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a motivational speech to give. Duke, keep him company while I’m at it.”

“Yes, coach, sir.”

“See? Just your presence has instilled some respect in this cheeky little sod.” The coach commented before returning to the pitch to address the teams.

“Could you not be such a teacher’s pet, mate?”

“I only got where I am because I respected my coaches and your dad; authority figures are there to be respected. Don’t you want to be captain of the team? Don’t you want to be a pro one day? You could already be playing for a real team if you had a bit more discipline since talent isn’t lacking. Take advantage of that man.” He said, pointing to the coach who was animatedly giving a speech. “BIG is a legend, a legend capable of making other legends; it was a scandal to find out a man like him had moved to the States, but the results he achieved with Dalton’s teams speak for themselves. And he brought in fucking Zeke Hastings to train you lot, and your dad to manage those of you who are truly capable of going pro. So yes, listen to what your coaches have to say; you may think it’s just theatre, but it’s the attitude that separates the men from the boys.” Aaron finished, flexing his powerful muscles to the point where the polo shirt he was wearing ripped under his arms.

“Wow, mate! That’s wicked! You’re a beast!” Duke said with such genuine admiration that Aaron couldn’t help but smile and repeat the feat, tearing his shirt even more before returning to a serious demeanor and looking at the younger lad.

“And you know how I became who I am today, little brother? By listening to all the shite my coaches had to say to me!” He said, pointing in the direction of Coach BIG, who was just finishing his speech, raising his voice so that everyone on the pitch and in the stands could hear him easily.

“… because this society wants to diminish you, weaken you. They want you to believe that being a man is wrong, that being what we were born to be is a shame. But they don’t know the power you carry with you, the influence you possess; many of you will be professional athletes, some already are. You’ll be seen around the world, admired, able to inspire, capable of making our brothers, hounded by our enemies, react, and more than that, you can make some of those enemies see the mistakes they’ve made and bring them back to the right path, and for those who insist on their mistakes, you’ll be able to hit them where it hurts most, where they’ve been hitting us for years, and I’m talking about their children; You will shape and save them because you have the power to correct what’s wrong in this generation, then in they do same with the next. The truth is men, and never forget it, you have power! And we’ll use it to secure a better, brighter future!

[turtleybeachin]

The Boys Trying to Help with a Menstrual Cycle

Has this been done? Sure. Am I writing it anyway at 2:30am with a mug of mulled wine? Hell yes I am.

(content warning: discussion of menstrual cycle products. MC has a menstrual cycle and vagina but no gender assigned. involves demon men being pretty oblivious but honestly not worse than human cis men.) *edited, thank you to the anon who pointed out my mistake. ♥

Mammon's the one texting to ask "yo human what size is. ... hey what size your ... ... ya know. ... how big is your ... ... it's cool no matter what size ya know all sizes are great you're perfect no judgement just. .... small medium or large????"

Satan is like "You can't ask a person what size their vagina is you moron." He's read enough about the issue at hand to know these are flow levels not vagina sizes anyway. Still not sure which to get though. Buys one of everything better safe than sorry.

Lucifer rolls his eyes confidently picks up the most expensive package of regular pads and regular tampons. Looks like he knows what he's doing. Is 100% faking it.

Beelzebub's worried about the flavor of the tampons. Won't lemon be unpleasant when they're already in pain? Those look like probably key-lime pie which sounds good. He'll buy two packs, one to sample on the way home. (he's distressed to report they don't taste like anything the colors are lies.)

Asmodeus goes straight for whatever has been popping up the most ads or getting the most discussion on DevilGram. Only the cutest and trendiest for his favorite human!!! Also gets you some cute underwear gotta dress up your time of the month~

Leviathan's just having a complete panic attack feels like other people are staring and judging him THESE AREN'T FOR ME, THEY'RE FOR MY-- errr, I mean, not my r-really, but... m-maybe sorta my-- OH MY DIAVOLO I'M BEING SUCH A NORMIE I'M BUYING PADS FOR SOMEONE THIS IS LIKE IN THAT ONE ANIME--

(Don't worry, after a text from them cheering him on and thanking him for being the perfect Lord of Shadows to their Henry he Demons Up and buys five of everything because DAMN STRAIGHT HE'S TAKING CARE OF HIS HENRY BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE.)

Belphegor just picked up the squishiest package and that's what they're getting. If these don't work for them, at least it'll be a decent pillow in a pinch.

Bonus:

Solomon is the one competent man in the whole gaggle. He actually knows what menstrual flows are and whether MC prefers pads or tampons, because he asked, because he knows these things. Is the only one to actually know what he's buying.

Diavolo has Barbatos send them a year's supply of absolutely every menstrual product either of them could find anywhere in both the Devildom and Human Realm. Congratulations on the storage facility now in their name that has two lifetimes' worth of menstrual supplies.

Simeon just asks. That's it that's the whole shtick. He just asks specifically which they need and admits he doesn't know much about these products but is willing to learn. He'll text them photos from the store but also offer to go somewhere else if none of that looks right.

[missmonsters2]

—AGNOSTHESIA | FIVE

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: After the talk, things were going well, or so Wednesday assumed. You've been distancing yourself and Wednesday is forced to sift through her past behaviors to see why and comes to a realization that makes her violently ill.

Warnings: Angst. Jealous!Wednesday. Enid, has to spell it out. Thing, wants more dew drops. Xavier, rip.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there’s no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: we're making waveEees (slow burn mode) 🥺💘

Part Four

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Agnosthesia: Noun. The state of not knowing how you really feel about something, which forces you to sift through clues hidden in your behavior, as if you were some other person—noticing a twist of acid in your voice, an obscene amount of effort put into something trifling, or an inexplicable weight on your shoulders that makes it difficult to get out of bed.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You've been distancing yourself from Wednesday.

"Not quite, Henry. Try crushing the seed instead of chopping it; you'll get more juice out of it that way."

You've been distancing yourself from Wednesday.

"Yes, use the flat side of your knife, just like that—careful."

You've been distancing yourself from Wednesday.

"Well done, Henry!"

Wednesday slams her textbook down on the desk.

"Ow!" Xavier yelps, the tips of his fingers caught under the textbook. He yanks them out. "Jesus fucking Christ, Wednesday, my fingers!"

"Quit blubbering," Wednesday unapologetically tells him. "They are still attached to your body, are they not?"

"For now," Xavier grumbles, rubbing his bruised fingers. "What the hell is your problem, anyway?"

"I don't have a problem," Wednesday's eyes briefly look at him before looking back at her own flask. "Why would you think that?"

This was her third time re-making the elixir. 

The textbook had said to cut the seed to extract the juice inside, but after Xavier nearly lopped off his finger the first time, Wednesday took over the second time. The only issue was that despite her flawless knife work, they could hardly squeeze any of the juice out from the seed's hard shell. 

Xavier was plucking at her last nerves with his suggestion to try again—as if the seed would suddenly get softer. 

Wednesday clenches her jaw. She should've declined to be Xavier's partner. Even Bianca would suffice better because at least she would feel no inclination about holding back on murdering Bianca when they finally got fed up with each other. 

But this was only an issue because—

"Because tooth fairy has refused to be your lab partner, like, what, 3 times now?" Xavier whispers.

Wednesday doesn't say anything, but her expression gets more contemptuous, her mouth pinched, and Xavier doesn't say anything more. She doesn't even comment on Xavier's horrible epithet that he's been sticking to despite your immediate veto. His only reasoning was that you had a nice smile, which Wednesday was inclined to agree with reluctantly. 

But it was true. It was a rather new development when you began growing closer to Wednesday, especially after they resolved the tension regarding Wednesday not asking questions. It was going well, or so Wednesday had thought. 

Now, you jumped at making sure someone else was your partner before the teacher would even finish telling everyone to partner up.

Looking up, Wednesday stares at the back of your head, willing to burn a hole through it so you'd look at her. 

You don't.

"That guy has been hanging around her often," Xavier comments, his eyes narrowing a little. "Pretty sure he's a legacy. His dad went here—Henry Morrison? Can’t believe he named his son the same name."

"Why are you telling me this irrelevant information?" Wednesday cuts in before he can say anything else. 

"Is it irrelevant?" Xavier smiles, though the corners of his mouth don't make it too far up. "Thought you, of all people, should know this: know any potential rival—lest you want someone else to swoop in."

'Rival?' Wednesday thought with confusion. She looks at the boy next to you. 

There was no way this lanky, pitiful, stuttering boy could be her rival. If she were to look at anyone as a rival, it'd be Bianca. 

The siren looked way too smug and haughty every time you spent time with her. Every time Wednesday caught a glimpse of you two, Bianca would have this aggravating smirk that would send Wednesday into a burst of rage that Thing would have to suffer through while she ranted. 

"How's psychitect going? Getting better?" You ask.

Henry nods eagerly. "I-I can almost make a fully functional mindscape. You should come to see it," Henry says with a shy smile. "Y-You have a free period during that time, right?" 

You nod with an easy-going smile. "Sure, I don't have much else to do, and it sounds pretty cool."

Wednesday purses her lips unhappily, stabbing the seed with the tip of her knife precisely, and Xavier moves his hands away just in case. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Wednesday—"

"No."

"You haven't even heard what I'm about to ask—"

"No."

Enid exaggeratedly pouts, clasping her hands together in front of her. "Wednesday..." she pitifully drags.

"Enid," Wednesday grits her teeth, holding firm. "No."

"C'mon!" Enid continues to plead. "One of the girls broke her arm! We're short a girl again this year."

"How tragic," Wednesday says without care. "But that, unfortunately, wasn't my fault. I applaud your efforts to torture me but I have no inclination to join the boat race this year."

"But don't you remember that satisfying feeling of beating Bianca?" Enid tries to entice Wednesday instead. "What was it that you said last year? A dark, vengeful spirit."

Wednesday raises her brow. "I have no additional quarrels with Bianca this year. I get my satisfaction from beating her in fencing."

Enid lets out a groan. She knows she's running out of options, and she's about to give up when something pops into her mind, and a mischievous smile that Wednesday doesn't like appears.

"Oh, well," Enid says with a dramatic sigh. "I guess we'll just have to ask someone else and risk losing to Bianca."

Wednesday narrows her eyes. "It appears so."

"And with Fae watching in the crowd, I bet she'll be so impressed with Bianca taking that trophy," Enid continues, astutely turning away as she says it, a smirk on her face. "Man, how embarrassing. I can't believe I'll have to explain to Fae that we lost because my roomie didn't want to get into the whole school spirit thing."

Enid sighs one last time as she sits on her bed, looking at Thing, who sits beside her. "Oh, well. I'm sure Fae will be thrilled to celebrate Bianca's victory."

Wednesday clenches her fist. She's not unaware of Enid's horrible attempt at manipulating her. It was tragically embarrassing on Enid's end but what was more embarrassing was that it was working.

The idea of you celebrating Bianca's victory was making Wednesday more sullen than she already was. 

So, for the second time this year, despite Wednesday's reluctance to win the Poe Cup again as it made her more similar to her mother, she was going to make Bianca burn with the taste of utter defeat. 

"Enid," Wednesday scowls. "It would be wise to sleep with both eyes open after the competition is over."

"I love you, too, Wednesday."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday is at a loss. 

Despite her attempts to ask more questions and discover what could possibly be the reason why you've been distant, you've stonewalled her. 

It is a very sickening feeling. 

"How could she do this to me, Thing?" Wednesday seethed at the disembodied hand as it was just the two in her room. "This is the second week she's cut our time short. That's 14 days, Thing. Our usual 38 hours a week have been cut down to a mere 15 hours."

Thing taps and signs.

"Why are you asking if I did something?" Wednesday glares.

Some more tapping.

"It's a fair assumption," Wednesday concedes. "But I haven't done anything out of the ordinary as of late. You must know how painful it is for me right now to admit I am at a loss."

Thing taps.

"And she has said nothing to you?" Wednesday glares suspiciously.

Thing taps more firmly, and Wednesday lets out a sigh through her nose and lets it go. Checking the time, she finds you'll be here any minute now.

As of late, you've been insisting on meeting Wednesday in her room at night instead of your fae studio realm. Enid seemed to catch on and was happy to hang out with Ajax or Yoko for an hour or two until you left.

It only served to remind Wednesday that it used to be four hours at your studio. Wednesday bitterly thinks you've done it on purpose because it was easier for you to leave her space than to make her leave your space. 

There's a knock on her door. 

Right on time.

Wednesday looks at Thing before glaring at the door.

"I will not accept defeat tonight," she ominously declares as she walks towards the door. 

When she opens it, Wednesday finds you smiling at her but there’s something about it that makes her feel disgruntled. 

“Hi, Wednesday,” you say in the exact same way you’ve said hundreds before. “Enid out again?”

“Of course,” Wednesday deadpans since not even Enid knows about your wings.

“Cool,” you reply before looking out the window. “Can we open the window? It feels a little stuffy in here.”

Wednesday looks at Thing, who scuddles to the window and cracks it open. There’s a slight breeze that makes you sigh with ease as you take off your sweater and sit down on the floor at Wednesday’s bed. 

There’s a momentary pause as Wednesday stares at the familiar sight of your back before your opulent obsidian wings slowly grow out, stretching as much as they could with a ruffle. 

They were healing quite well, Wednesday notes. Soon, you won’t need to meet with her every night for treatment. 

You still need to meet her now but you’re already distancing yourself. 

Wednesday feels self-pity, rage, and dour. She won’t admit it, though, as she pulls out the tub of salve and sits behind you. 

Your wings trill as Wednesday moves her fingers through the feathers.

The way you won’t even tell her it tickles anymore. 

“Did you enjoy your day today?” You ask conversationally and Wednesday clenches her jaw.

“No,” she grits out.

“Oh,” you seem surprised at the admittance. There’s a delay and Wednesday knows you’re debating on inquiring further, but you make up your mind. “Why?”

“Why do you think so?” Wednesday asks instead, her voice flat and unimpressed that you’d sink to playing stupid. It was beneath you.

You remain silent.

“I don’t know,” you eventually say, your tone even and unassuming. “Has Xavier finally tried to hug you?”

You’re lightly jesting to avoid the confrontation but Wednesday won’t have it. She applies the salve slowly, knowing full well it was making you antsy. Wednesday was going to drag out tonight so painfully slow, you were going to regret having ever been the reason for Wednesday’s dreadful days. 

“No,” Wednesday answers, “And I doubt he ever will if he wants to live.”

You laugh but it’s not very sincere. “I guess he could always ask Enid to pass along a hug for him.” You’re jesting again but there’s something in your tone that sounds bitter.

Wednesday doesn’t know what to make of the comment, so she ignores it since it’s not like you can see her glare right now.

“You’ve been partnering up with the lanky boy lately,” Wednesday shifts the subject, sounding flat as if it were just a mere observation.

“Henry?” You say confusedly but Wednesday doesn’t confirm or deny. “I mean, I guess,” you shrug.

“Why?” Wednesday demands, asking what she really wants to know.

“I mean,” you say slowly. “Why not? You and I are some of the people with the top grades. It’s obvious we’re adept and Henry needs help.”

“So, why must you be the one to help him?” Wednesday clenches her jaw.

It’s a miracle how gentle she’s still applying the salve despite how uncomfortably irritated she feels. 

“Why? Are you offering to help him instead?” You ask wryly.

“I think if he’s destined to fail, then we should not interfere,” Wednesday bluntly and callously reasons. “Is he not the same boy who first saw you and could barely get a word out, leaving you with such a dull sobriquet?”

“It’s just a class, Wednesday,” you dryly say, awkwardly shifting. 

Wednesday’s jaw is set tightly in place, and she feels utterly humiliated right now.

“I heard you’re joining The Poe Cup race again this year?” You say, changing the subject as the atmosphere was tense. 

Wednesday feels her body relax ever so slightly at the new subject.

“Yes, at Enid’s relentless and piteous begging.”

“Oh,” you say softly.

Wednesday feels uncomfortable and she’s unsure why. 

“Have you considered joining the race?” Wednesday spits out to keep the conversation moving. 

“No,” you answer softly again. “Even though there are no rules preventing sabotage against other teams, Principal Weems and I agreed that my powers would be a very unfair advantage to fight against.”

Wednesday’s curiosity rules over all other emotions. She wants to ask exactly what powers you’re talking about when you suddenly stand up and Wednesday realizes that you could feel when she’s finished applying the salve to the end of your scars. 

“Thanks again for helping me,” you tell her softly as you turn around, making your wings disappear with an uncomfortable grimace. You put your sweater back on and zipped it up. “I have some assignments with my other project partners I have to meet up with. Catch you later?”

Wednesday is left sitting on the floor, seething with rage and defeat as you walk out the room, shutting the door with a resounding, sickening click. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Enid returns home from her date with Ajax, feeling joyous and charmed. She immediately spots Wednesday at her desk on her typewriter.

“Hey, Wednesday,” Enid sing-songs. “Did you have a good night?”

“It was fine,” Wednesday says sharply, which has Enid looking over to Thing, who signs to not ask. 

“O-kay,” Enid replies, taking off her jacket before sitting on her bed. 

Wednesday is typing aggressively on her typewriter, each push so hard it sounds punishing. 

“So—”

“Not now, Enid,” Wednesday icily cuts in, continuing to type as if she wanted to break her typewriter. “I need silence.”

Enid doesn’t reply, only letting out a soft sigh as she puts her headphones on and rests in her bed. She opens a magazine and Thing shuffles over to her to look along with her. The sad thing is that Enid can still hear Wednesday aggressively typing, but she ignores it knowing her best friend and roommate needs the time to cool down before attempting to talk.

The only problem is an hour and half passes and Wednesday is still typing as if the typewriter has personally wronged her.

Enid yanks off her headphones, closing her magazine before she slams both down on her bed. She frostily looks at Wednesday.

"Wednesday, this was cute and funny to watch the first two weeks, but now it's getting sad," Enid purses her lips at her roommate. "Stop moping and go fix it. And don’t play stupid, I know you know what I mean."

"Enid," Wednesday says with thinly veiled anger, her typing coming to a stop. "Whatever it was between us has clearly taken a nose-dive and hit solid concrete and died. It was nothing and I'm not affected by—"

"Wednesday!" Enid snaps, and it makes Wednesday close her mouth. Her bright roommate rarely snapped. "Stop dismissing your own feelings."

"I'm not sure what you're—"

"Oh, yes you do," Enid cuts in, and Wednesday wants to remind her that it is a rude habit. "Maybe your big brain hasn't caught on yet, but if you spent time looking at your behaviors and actions of late, you'd be able to get on the same page as the rest of us."

Wednesday frowns, glaring at her roommate, who glares back.

"I implore detective Wednesday to make an appearance and annoyingly obsess over the clues she's given to herself," Enid scrunches her nose. "I'll be at Yoko's and when I'm back, I expect you'll have come to the correct conclusion. I'm taking Thing as well."

Enid doesn't wait for Wednesday's reply as she turns and leaves the room with a resounding click of the door shutting. With her alone in her room, Wednesday initially ignores Enid's words, going back to sit at her desk and placing her fingers on her typewriter, but nothing comes to mind. 

After sitting in frustration for 10 minutes, Wednesday curses her blonde roommate as she contemptuously gets up and goes to lie down on her bed, staring at the ceiling. 

It's almost embarrassingly easy to think back to the beginning. Wednesday remembers seeing you for the first time and thinking nothing of it. It was only two weeks of your friendly smile and greetings, despite having yet to be formally introduced, that she noticed you more. And then she couldn't stop noticing you because you never endeavored to say anything more to her than hello, even though you were diligent in getting to know everyone else. 

Then, it was the slow desire to know every single thing there was about you. Wednesday was still mostly ambivalent about her phone, but she had wanted your number. It was the gruesome butterflies, the discovery of your secret place, and your wings that began to make this year thrilling.

Wednesday had never suffered through so many hypothetical conversations in her head—she had considered admitting herself as a patient to a mental ward rather than being the usual enthused visitor. 

It was easy to admit that, on some level, she thought of you as hers to protect and would carry out any revenge needed. 

But this was normal, wasn't it? Wednesday bargains. This could all be construed as friendship, the same as whatever she had with Enid—just with more curiosity. 

The foundation of that reasoning was pathetically shaky, she knew.

It was the smaller things that Wednesday analyzed. 

Wednesday thought back and reluctantly admitted there were too many times she's felt jealous and sullen because of you. She thinks about how she would take the long way to her class just to bump into you down the halls. 

The way she would ensure her nightly plans were left completely free to spend with you. Quite frankly, Wednesday planned her days around you, and if there was something she could not put off, then she was sure to include you. 

It was coming horrifyingly clear. Wednesday has always told herself she wasn't sure how she felt about you to give herself plausible deniability. But her own actions and behaviors have ratted her out. 

And it was such an outrageous revelation. 

Damn it all. Wednesday Addams was romantically interested in someone. 

How unfortunate. 

The door jiggles before opening, revealing her blonde roommate returning with Thing on her shoulders. Wednesday looks at the time and finds she's been lying in bed for an hour.

"So?" Enid drawls. "Did you figure it out yet?"

"Yes," Wednesday tightly replies, looking at Enid briefly before glaring back at the ceiling.

"And how do you feel?"

"Enraged." 

"Enraged?!" Enid's in disbelief but then sighs. "But of course you'd be."

Wednesday suddenly sits up. It's well past midnight, but she doesn't care.

"Thing," Wednesday writes a quick note, folding it before giving it to Thing. "Go deliver this."

Thing grabs it and scuddles off while Enid stares at her roommate with curiosity. "Are you going to go meet up with her?" Then, excitedly. "Are you going to confess?"

"The only thing I will ever confess to is a murder," Wednesday flatly says. "But yes, I will be meeting up with her and I will make her suffer as I have."

Enid winces, looking doubtful. "Really?"

Wednesday is silent for a moment before she says, "No. But I will be getting to the bottom of this, and I will come out victorious."

Wednesday puts on her boots and sweater.

"Are you sure she'll even meet up with you? What did you say in your note?"

Wednesday grinned wickedly. "I told her to meet me, or I would set fire to her forest until it was nothing but ash."

Enid sighs, turning to get ready for bed. "Good luck."

Wednesday doesn't reply, walking to the door. It is pathetic she's romantically engrossed in someone, but as it happened, she couldn't undo it. 

Therefore, as the object of her affections, she could not allow you to distance yourself without a sound, robust reason. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday makes it to your studio before you do, but she can hear your footsteps heavy with annoyance. 

"What the hell is wrong with you, Wednesday?" She hears you huff. "Why the hell would you send me a note that you're going to burn down—"

"You've been avoiding me," Wednesday turns around and hisses, anger written all over her face. "Why?"

You’re stunned silent, shocked at the sudden confrontation and venomous tone from Wednesday. For a second, Wednesday thinks you won’t answer and turn around to leave, risking your little haven burnt to a crisp.

"I have not," you say slowly, rising to the challenge as you raise your brow at her. "We still see each other every night, don't we?"

"But we don't..." Wednesday pauses. "You don't..."

"What?" You tilt your head. "Spend all my time with you?"

Wednesday remains silent, her blood silently burning inside her. She's so filled with disgruntlement. It's always better to suffer the truth than to be blissfully unaware, but Wednesday wishes this entire realization wasn't her truth. 

"Should I start prioritizing you?" You say with no inflection, but it feels almost malicious. "I'd have never thought Wednesday Addams would demand so much of my time."

Wednesday would never, ever admit that something as silly as words could hurt her. They were just words, and she'd have to care enough to let them affect her. Even Enid's rare spiteful words were more of something she used to reflect on rather than let them dig at her. 

Yet, here she was, clenching her jaw and feeling her throat constrict. 

Wednesday clenches her fist. "This was a mistake." She turns around and starts walking away, feeling violently ill. She only gets a few steps away before you're chasing after her.

"No, Wednesday—wait," you grab her hand, and Wednesday absolutely detests the way it soothes her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it." Your tone is full of regret and sincerity.

Wednesday stands still in her spot a moment longer before she slowly turns back to you. You don't let go of her hand, and she doesn't pull away.

"Then, why?" Wednesday asks, even though she isn't in a position to accuse you, as she's the exact same when lashing out.

"Because..." you let out a deep sigh, holding Wednesday's hand more tightly. "Because I'm jealous."

Wednesday's eyebrows furrow. She is thoroughly at a loss. "Jealous?"

You shrug and then nod. "Jealous, upset, lamenting—whatever you want to call it."

"Of what, exactly?" Wednesday frowns. 

"Enid."

"Enid?" Wednesday is even more confused. "Why would you be envious of Enid?"

"It's not necessarily Enid as a person. I know she's your best friend," you sigh. "It's more of Enid as a concept."

"As a concept?" Wednesday raises her brow, prompting you to continue on.

You stare at Wednesday, studying her entirety with a focus that begins to make Wednesday uncomfortable even if she doesn't show it. 

"Everybody talks about last year," you reveal slowly. "Since I wasn't here, everyone is excited to share last year in detail."

Wednesday nods. Even her group talked about last year's events when you hung out with them from time to time. 

"The only thing I can think about when people talk of it is how different you've become," you say quietly. "Which isn't a bad thing, but I'm very aware of the fact that Enid was a big factor in your change."

Wednesday lets the words soak in, analyzing them before she nods in agreement. "Enid has left an enduring mark on me, and she continues to—do not repeat that to her."

You give Wednesday a wry grin. "Yes, Enid is..." you sigh. "She's warm like the sun—like basking under the rays. I can't blame you because I feel it in her presence too. She's genuine and bold. What you see is what you get, and you can't help but be charmed."

"I would say Enid is more like a fungus that grows on you and you have no choice but to be fond of, but continue on."

Shaking your head with a chuckle, you look at Wednesday, mirroring her impassive eyes. "I'm not like that."

Wednesday raises her brow. "And?"

You swallow, and Wednesday sees something dim behind your eyes. "I will never be warm like the sun, and what I show others will always be different—always a mask. Wednesday, despite you being grim, solemn, and interested in all morbidities, you're enticed by the sun and moved by its warmth." It was such a miserable smile. "And that will never be me."

You drop Wednesday's hand, and there's something so hollowing about it that Wednesday wants to tell you that you're such a fucking moron because the lack of your warmth is upsetting her. 

"Did you fall on your head when I wasn't watching?" Wednesday snaps at you, and you merely stare back at her. She grabs your hand back, almost crushing it to punish you. 

"Basking in the sun is only tolerable when you're sitting under the shade," Wednesday follows your ridiculous metaphors. "I will admit that Enid's warmth has taught me that while I enjoy solitude, it is a choice—not a condemnation."

"I will also admit that Enid has her whims indulged by me more," Wednesday rolls her eyes but looks at you sternly. "But so do you. I could argue I let you get away with more."

"Do I?" You ask with a tilt of your head.

"If anyone consumed my thoughts and put me through such self-pity and suffering as much as you do, I would have already turned them into the next true crime documentary."

You can't help but crack a smile.

Wednesday looks at you, her eyes softening, and she evenly says, "It is easy to adulate the light." Her thumb brushes over the back of your hand. "Show me your darkness."

You squeeze Wednesday's hand gently, and the tension in your fades, your shoulder becoming relaxed.

The anger subsides within Wednesday, quelling as she knows this stupidity is coming to its end and you will no longer be avoiding her. 

It comes to Wednesday suddenly how much emotional labor you put her through, and she's in disbelief that you think you aren't capable of changing her.

"You are..." Wednesday huffs with frustration. "Unpleasant."

You can't help but laugh. "You are, too."

"You already knew that," Wednesday plainly says. "I told you I would devastate you at some point."

"I wouldn't say I'm devastated," you smile amusedly at Wednesday's dramatics. 

"Nevertheless, this is still a mistake."

"And what a grand mistake it would be," you muse. 

"We clearly don't know what we're doing."

"I guess we just have to keep going until we do."

"Quite frankly, even if we do, we will still both needlessly suffer," Wednesday warns.

You hum, drawing Wednesday closer. Wednesday looks a little wary, but she allows your proximity. Her eyebrows are slightly tense as she gazes at you. 

"I heard your mother named you after her favorite poem," you say softly, your hand grazing Wednesday's fingers before you entangle them together. For someone who enjoyed the cold so much, her hands were warm. "Wednesday's child is full of woe."

Wednesday only nods slightly because moving too much would make her lips graze yours. 

The tension is so thick, Wednesday could suffocate in it. How lovely. 

Your lips graze against Wednesday, and she tightens her hands against yours when you pull away. You look at Wednesday's eyes so vehemently, and she experiences opia all over again. 

"But did you know?" 

Wednesday can feel your breath on her face.

"Love is suffering—and we get the honor of enduring its torment."

Your lips press warmly against the corner of Wednesday's mouth, and she finds you're veracious. What torture it is—and Wednesday takes delight in it.

PART 6

[bitches-who-write]

If you can, the gang with a super bubbly and affectionate s/o but when she's mad she gets really scary, like they'll check in on them but at the same time she would totally beat someone's ass if they insulted her man, I'm talking bashing there heads in a locker bad.

We're gonna break this up into parts [I'm typing this on my phone. Sorry, if it's shit. ]

Love this idea by the way!!

Henry

•At first he wasn't sure about the way you acted. It kinda..I don't wanna say irritated him but…it irritated him.

• Let's be honest here..it's Henry. He doesn't do affection, and he especially doesn't do bubbly. 

•Now he wasn't aware of your..anger issues? It wasn't until one day that he truly saw how fuckin insane you truly are. 

•You two were in school. He was standing by your locker as you were putting your books away. Greta and her gang of bitches walked over and started..well..being bitches. Now usually you deal with this by just ignoring them…however..you were already in an irritated mood due to a class incident. 

•Greta realized she wasn't bothering you so she decided to go for your boyfriend. 

•Big. Fuckin. Mistake. 

•She started with the flirting and after he called her gross and to fuck off, she was not happy. She started bringing up his haircut and how he probably didn't have the money to get it cut because his dad spent all the money on getting drunk. She even asked what it was like being a punching bag for his dad. 

•You snapped. 

•You kicked her fuckin ass. You grabbed the bitch by the ponytail and bashed her head into the locker. You grabbed her by the shirt and pinned her to the locker and let her know if she ever talked to your boyfriend again..well..you were gonna break her fuckin face. 

•Henry had very mixed emotions. He was pissed off because of Greta. He was very confused about this whole new side to his girlfriend. But most of all..he was hella turned on. 

•The minute you go to your place, you two were on each other. He ended up telling the guys about the incident after you two got done screwing around. 

•Patrick definitely tried to make moves on you more frequently after hearing this. 

[princess-glassred]

No pennywise no juniper hills au where Richie has a podcast as a side gig when he's not doing comedy, and as a bit of a joke he thinks it would be funny if he did an episode where he invites his childhood bully on as a guest. Henry is working as a janitor and his life just kinda sucks now, so he agrees to it. It's a very funny episode of the podcast, but the down side is its TOO funny, and now he's forced to keep inviting Henry back until he's essentially a cohost at this point. Everytime Henry's on he basically just says the most out of pocket insane shit, because even though he never killed anyone or went to juniper hills in this au he's still a total nutcase.

He's dumb, a chronic liar, and just all around pretty fucking weird so everybody likes when Richie has him on cause it's funny. Especially with the way Richie is genuinely quite smart and witty guy, so his absolute baffled expression at everything Henry says is like the funniest thing ever. Just their weird ass dynamic of "Bumfuck nowhere Janitor with a heaping of mental issues that's a dumbass" and "Actually smart, rich leftist comedian with no patience for his ex-bully's bullshit" makes the podcast really popular. Even when Henry is saying bigoted homophobic shit, it's balanced out ny how Richie just reiterates that he's a fucking idiot.

Average Podcast conversation basically goes like this:

R: Man, remember when you used to call me the F slur and shit.

H: Yeah, good times, it was fun.

R: The funny part is I'm actually gay now, so I guess you were kinda right about that one, huh.

H: Cool.

R: Cool? Just cool??

H: I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do Richie? Kick your ass? I see fags all the time at work now, as long as you don't try to fuck my butt or something I can deal with it for an hour.

R: Ew, dude you gotta realize not everyone wants to fuck you.

H: Impossible.

R: Henry, do you honestly believe there is nobody in the world who isn't attracted to you?

H: I mean, I never said they had to be attracted to me, I just said everyone wants to fuck me.

R: Oh my god- *buries his face in his hands*

H: *Looks to crew member* This guy is a really bad cohost, you know? First he doesn't even pay me and no he says no one wants to sleep with me.

R: What?

H: Don't get paid.

R: I literally do pay you.

H: No.

R: Yes, I do, you're just making shit up for attention again.

H: When you think about it, this is basically slavery.

R:... •_•

H:... •_•

R:... •_•

H: Unpaid labor is slavery.

R: I fucking can't with you.

[myteavsricochet]

latest fanfictions read (firstprince edition):

forehead kisses.

Movie nights had become a weekly tradition for Alex and Henry.

As per usual, the movie Henry had chosen had Alex slowly dozing off next to him, his body relaxing onto the couch. He feels Henry grab the blanket and place it over him, and then-

Well, then, Henry’s fingers begin carding through his hair, and Alex doesn’t know what the fuck to do. It’s evident Henry doesn’t know he’s awake, but the touch feels… nice. Safe. Comforting in a way he didn’t realize he needed.

And then… well. And then.

Henry leans down and kisses his forehead, and his entire fucking world tips on its axis.

tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Collage, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Humor, Roommates, Forehead Kisses, Bisexuality, bisexual awakening, Alex is really dense, Nora is exhausted, First Kiss

when you know, you know

With shaky hands, Henry pulls out the ring from the box, looking at Alex with tearful eyes that he adores so much. Asks, "Alex, darling, will you marry me?"

Alex lets out a watery laugh, swiping an arm across his face to get rid of the rapidly falling tears. He kneels down to cup Henry's face and brushes his thumbs across his cheekbones softly.

"Baby. Don't you remember?" Alex whispers, leaning their foreheads together. "We're already married."

or,

Alex "marries" his best friend when he's six-years-old. It just takes some time for them to fall in love, but they get there.

tags: Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, not kidding it's so fluffy, Getting Together, Feelings Realization, Pining, Mutual Pining, Jealous Alex Claremont-Diaz, Protective Alex Claremont-Diaz, Alternate Universe, Roommates, Growing Up Together, Idiots in Love

When you smile, I am overcome

Alex smiles into kisses, and Henry notices. It’s a bit of an issue.

tags: Post-Canon, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Kissing, so much kissing!, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, They love each other so much!, Canon - Movie, Canon Compliant

(this fic was inspired by one of my posts 🥲🥲❤️‍🩹)

Your lips on the collar of my shirt

What happened after karaoke. Inspired by Alex’s lipstick printed shirt.

notes: this fic is referenced in when you smile, I am overcome. Please read that before or after if you want more fluff and sweet kisses.

tags: Canon - Movie, Canon Compliant, Missing Scene, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Kissing, drunk henry

something weird happened (that might change my life)

Exactly how much wine has he had tonight? He wasn’t sure what to think or how to react, only the sudden realisation that he had to stay really still because if he moved and Henry realised what his fingers were doing, tangling like that in his curls, he might stop, and Alex was quickly becoming aware that he didn’t think he wanted that to happen.

So, he forces his eyes back to the screen and tries to focus once again on Princess Leia and Han Solo instead of on Henry Fox. It doesn’t work. He wants so badly to lean into Henry’s body, encourage his fingers to keep moving through his hair … across his cheek, down the curve of his neck ... Suddenly, he’s wondering what Henry’s tongue would feel like on his skin, tracing the lines of his hipbones, licking stripes along the mounds of his thighs ... His mind jerks him back to the room and to reality. What the fuck?

Or

Oblivious Alex mistakes Henry for a pillow, things escalate from there.

Based on that one Reddit post.

tags: Roommates, Alex has a sexual awakening, After he mistakes Henry for a cushion, Shower Sex, Rimming, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Explicit Sexual Content, Bisexual Disaster Alex Claremont-Diaz, POV Alternating, Explicit Language

Giving Yourself Grace

Isabella is very young, and Alex is home alone with her for the first time while Henry is away for the shelter. He learns some dark truths about himself when he struggles to help Isabella.

tags: Canon Compliant, Future Fic, Alex and Henry are Girl Dads, crying baby, Stressed Parents, Neurodivergent Alex Claremont-Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Henry gives him that hug but good

darling, you're the one i want

"Henry, thank God.” Alex’s voice is slurred so much that it takes Henry a few seconds to put the words together, and even then all thoughts of the date escape his mind. He frowns.

“Everything okay?”

“No. Yes. I don’t—it’s okay, baby, I’m not mad.” Alex takes a shaky breath and Henry swears he hears a sob from the background, small and desperate, carving out whatever’s left of his heart. “It’s fine. It’ll be fine, just… Andres is sick.”

Or, the one in which Alex has to cancel a date because his son is sick, and Henry shows up for the two of them anyway.

Part 2 of in paper rings, in picture frames, in latte art

tags: Alternative Universe, Single parents, Kid fic, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Sickfic, Single Dad Alex Claremont-Diaz

when he walks in (i am loved)

Henry has chores. They’re chores he’s allocated to himself, ones he loves to do in his free time, when he’s home alone. But he can’t keep thinking about Alex, what he did to him this morning, and it proves to be a distraction.

or, henry gets well fucked and well loved

tags: Post-Canon, ousewife henry ftw, Top Alex Claremont-Diaz, Bottom Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Dom/sub Undertones, henry has a bit of a size kink, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Anal Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Morning Sex, Aftercare, dabbles into subspace, gratuitous use of petnames, this is just porn with little plot, Domestic Fluff

i'll show you every version

Alex and Henry are joined at the hip. the world takes notice.

king of my heart, body, and soul

“Did you finally find what you so rudely abandoned me for?” Henry says with a pout.

“Hush, you big baby,” Alex chides as he fiddles with the object in his hand. It’s a tube of… lipstick?

or: in the midst of sleepy delirium, alex writes the word “king” in red lipstick on henry’s chest and they go a smidge insane over it.

tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sleepy Sex, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Wet & Messy, inappropriate use of lipstick

born a restless child

Henry’s heart nearly gives out at the sound of Alex’s bedroom door opening. He jumps and then winces, thinking that he might have jostled Alex. But if an intruder is breaking into Alex’s home, he would want Alex to be awake for that.

The intruder in question is Alex’s five-year-old daughter, Ellie.

And she’s crying.

or: when Alex's daughter has a nightmare, his new boyfriend henry makes the cautious decision to comfort her.

tags: Not Canon Compliant, Single Parent Alex Claremont-Diaz, Nightmares, Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Family Fluff

in the blur

‘It really was a beautiful speech,’ he says, glancing towards her. She’s in a pair of leggings and a faded UT Austin sweatshirt, hair piled into a bun and her eyes rimmed with dark circles. She's barely slept, still worrying about Alex. There’s a mug of steaming tea in front of her, and one clasped in Henry’s hands.

She shrugs. ‘I was just trying to think about, you know.' She waves her arm in the air. 'What the two of you mean to people, what he means too.’

---

After his speech, Alex falls asleep. Henry takes the opportunity to talk to June.

tags: Missing Scene, Sibling bonding, Conversations, Found Family, Big Sisters

of smoke trails

Alex is more than happy to accompany a visiting group of twenty third graders on a school trip to the White House. But escaping electrical fires was not among the learning points of this trip. And to make matters worse, one of the students is marked missing during the evacuation.

Armed with a fire extinguisher and the suit on his back, Alex dives back into the building without a second thought. Henry, already evacuated and standing on the lawn, can’t do anything but watch as his boyfriend disappears through the heavy smoke.

tags: Major Character Injury, Fires, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Alex Claremont-Diaz, Worried Henry Fox-Mounchristen-Windsor, Whump, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Field Trip, Established Relationship, Hospitals, Hospitalization, Angst, Fluff and Angst

you can see it with the lights out

Alex thinks of the water. Of feeling like he might never reach the surface, might never reach Henry. But Henry is here; Alex remembers falling asleep in the glow of his presence, and beneath his shaking fingers, Henry’s chest is warm and his heart is beating steadily and Henry is here.

Alex is afraid, but Henry is here.

tags: nightmare fic, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has Abandonment Issues, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Location: The Lake House (Red White & Royal Blue), Henry comforts Alex, Hurt/Comfort, Mostly Hurt/Comfort

wanting

It slammed into him with the force of a semi truck out of the blue on a random Tuesday in July. the AC was out; they were sprawled out in the living room in nothing but their boxers, complaining about the heat and threatening to off their landlord in a million different ways. Alex was on the floor, Henry was on the couch, one leg draped over the back, his arms thrown up over his head. Henry had said something; something absurd and hilarious and Alex can’t for the life of him remember what it was, because all he remembers is lifting his head off the floor, and catching sight of that shining head of golden hair caught in a sunbeam and thinking—

And thinking.

God, I love him.

tags: Love Confessions, Frottage, Longing, Pining

The Domestication of Household Spiders

"How thick do you think I am, exactly?”

Alex mumbles something under his breath that sounds like, “Got away with it this long, didn’t I?”

Henry’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “I’m sorry, are you bragging about lying to me?”

After a long pause, Alex says, “...No.” slowly.

“Hm. Thought not.”

In which Henry can’t recognise the sound of his own boyfriend’s voice, Alex isn’t as good of a liar as he thinks he is, and living with a superhero is both exactly, and not at all, what Henry thought it would be.

tags: Alternate Universe - Spider-Man Fusion, Spider-Man Identity Reveal, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Lawyer!Alex, Spider-Man!Alex, Concerned!Henry, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Secret Identity, Injury Recovery, Mental Health Issues, Established Relationship, Cute David the Beagle (Red White & Royal Blue), Moving In Together, POV Henry

Burnt Offering

He just needs to get through washing his hair. Simple.

Except washing his hair has never been simple. It’s the polar opposite, actually.

The more he thinks about the task set out in front of him, the more daunting and impossible it feels. His limbs feel like lead and the weight of the hot water pouring over him makes his head buzz.

But Alex can do this. He’s done it before. A shower after a long lacrosse game or that one time he had the flu and had to stop three times to sit under the water and collect himself.

He can handle a little finals week exhaustion. He has to.

---

Or, Alex’s hair care routine is elaborate, he struggles to let Henry help him, and he learns some important things about receiving love through service.

icy keys & heated skin.

Alex discovers something in the bedroom. Something involving icy cold keys and flushed feverish skin.

or Henry likes the key a little too much, and Alex finds out.

[dreamingamongthestars]

This is such a hard post for me to make. I know Liam Payne was clearly guilty of many awful things, none of which should ever be excused.

When i was a little girl who grew up with 1D (offline and unaware of what was going on behind the scenes with management) and listened to their music, watched their videos, and read about them constantly, Liam was my favourite. I was as in love with him as any innocent naive little girl could be. I wrote stories about us falling in love, stared at pictures of his face. I still have a tshirt of him in my drawer, my 1D poster on my wall, and a bracelet with his name. I made a cringe ass poster to bring to one of their concerts saying "Liam let me kiss you". I lost interest after the breakup and I never knew why the reason behind it, the abuse going on behind the scenes, or Liam's behaviour, until much later when I would see posts about them. By then, I was already put off by his new songs and the things he would say. I knew that he must have been suffering with a lot of mental health issues and drug abuse. It wasn't an excuse, but I also pitied him, and I hoped he would find peace.

Later on, just last week, I was especially disgusted and disappointed when I heard about what he did to Maya Henry. I was content knowing that I've moved on from being his fan, now aware of what he's done. But then I felt so so awful for Maya and angry at him. I hoped that Maya would get justice and find peace herself.

But I can't help but think of his poor son, Bear, and his mother, and even his current girlfriend. I imagine young me would be in shock and grief if I found out. To die like this, intoxicated and clearly not mentally healthy, is such a tragic thing to happen. To see what he has turned into was so very sad. I don't want to speculate if it was suicide, or if he did it on purpose in response to Maya's accusations. Above all, I stand with her. But to watch the culmination of charming young talent, industry exploitation, bad behavior, and such an unfortunate end to someone I loved as a child without truly knowing anything about him has elicited emotions I can't quite name. Pity? Grief? Perhaps towards him, or not towards him now but the person he was, his child, his mother, his family, possibly even his bandmates, who were with him during such difficult times, and the people who grew up loving him?

Certainly I feel this for poor Maya, who will surely be relentlessly abused, harassed, and accused of causing this, which above all she must be protected from.

I pray that they all find peace in this awful situation. I hope there was a time when Liam was happy and healthy, when he wasn't treating others as badly as suspected. I hope Simon Cowell and all those responsible for the exploitation of these boys will be brought to justice.

To all who grew up loving him like I once did: it's okay to feel sad, and to grieve for someone we may have loved - even parasocially - at one point of our lives, just as we felt disappointed and disgusted finding out what he did to Maya. We will condem his wrongdoings and support Maya thoroughly amid this, and move on together.

But I also can't ignore what the media did to this man. To TMZ for getting pictures of his body, probably being how his loved ones found out about his dealth. Nobody deserves that, Liam could never deserve this loss of dignity.

We need to simultaneously advocate for justice for Maya, and against TMZ, the media, and management for what they did to Liam. This is unacceptable.

I still can't help reliving the memory of almost crying, reading about the little boy who would regularly get treatment at the hospital for his kidney complications. Treasure your childhood, hold on to your memories, but always keep a conscious mind and strong sense of justice. I'm sorry it had to end like this

[14carrotghoul]

and you can tell everybody (unplugged)

Hi friends! Do not proceed if you don't want spoilers for my fic, and you can tell everybody! Album notes and extras are below the cut :)

ACD's early career is releasing covers and original songs with June on YouTube and later TikTok. Career takes off his first year of university and the rest of the band joins, agreeing to play for a few years to see what happens.

[unnamed] (2020) [very little info on this besides being very pointedly Mexican-American, but the genre is rock influenced by Mexican music, like Cafe Tacvba? Molotov? but more modern]

tex mex - Lyrical inspiration: "Somos Mas Americanos" by Los Tigres Del Norte

decisions (November 2023) [highly influenced by Omar Apollo, I promise the other albums are very different! I'm shoving him down your throats here and I know it lol]

1 new message - mellow r&b. Have suspected something is wrong, ignored it, and now the impact is hitting full force. Wrongly interpreted as Alex leaving a voicemail for an ex but it is a song written for his past self about missing his ADHD and bisexuality. Sound: "3AM" by Haim

reckless abandon - daddy issues song cowritten with Liam. Bilingual. Sound & lyrically: "Voice Inside My Head" by The Chicks

am I? - 'You raised me to disappoint you bc I could never live up to your expectations'/'It took me too long to find myself bc I've been trying to be who you imagined'. Sound: "Go Away" by Omar Apollo

new year new me - fuck expectations, I'm going to do what I want Sound: "Invincible" by Omar Apollo

very bad things - upbeat hookup song. breaking all his own rules and it feels good. "Mercury" by Steve Lacy

split household - child of divorce anthem. Sound: "Kamikaze" by Omar Apollo

seria una mentira - don't make me choose a side. I love you both and it tears me apart. Pointedly about parents. Sound: "Two of Us" by Omar Apollo

too much - Cumbia version of "Too Much" by Carly Rae Jepsen

never enough - never enough to convince people to stay. Sound: "Pram" by Omar Apollo. Also feel this song's outro is very fitting for this!

a light left on - Platonic June appreciation song about how safe Alex has always felt with her. Sound & lyrically: "Caminar Bonito" by Natalia Lafourcade

Good - First time he is told and BELIEVES he is good. "While U Can" by Omar Apollo

yrs - Dramatic love song. First time Alex uses rain motif. Sound: "Petrified" by Omar Apollo

seria una mentira pt. 2 - it would be a lie to choose something simple over choosing you. Sound: "Two of Us" by Omar Apollo but slowed down and more hopeful

spine/die climbing - vulnerable pillow talk. Sound: "Plane Trees" by Omar Apollo, Mustafa

miel - sacrilege bj song. Catches on with queer Latine audience and is memed similarly to Call me by your name by Lil Nas X. Grows the band's audience. Sound: "Te Mata" by Kali Uchis.

on purpose - I choose to be all the things that I am and am not picking a side. End album on a positive note. Sound:"Done With You" by Omar Apollo

vows (June 2024) [very American sound, dreamier, more optimistic]

no booty calls - voicemail w instrumental. Sound: "All Around Me Now" by Perfume Genius

apricot tarts - honeymoon period of a new relationship. Sound: "Someone to Spend Time With" by Los Retros

in dreams - extended version of Henry's in dreams email set to music. In this universe, they met and kissed on New Years at Pez's party and still did long distance and exchanged emails :) Sound: "In A River (Acoustic)" by Rostam

supersonic - secret, fun ode to karaoke night and letting loose on a night out. Sound: "Runaways" by The Killers

tapestry - thank god I'm bi anthem. Sound: "The Steps" by Haim

lipstick on her neck - sung by June. Essentially the lyrics of lipstick lover by janelle monae but in "ALLIIGATOR TEARS" by Beyonce Americana style.

then have me - tender I'm putting it all out there, all you have to do is take it. Sound: "Solar Pilgrim" by Twain

pride (and prejudice) - purposefully anthemic chorus. about being proud despite prejudice in a red state. Sound: "Delta Dawn" by Tanya Tucker

he is my choice - eloping in the rain. comedic/romantic song about how everything went wrong at a wedding. Sound: "Howling at Nothing" by Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats

roasting Alex - jam session - the band lovingly roasts Alex. Sound: "Ballad of Hank Williams" by Hank Williams Jr., Don Helms

Not Just Friends - Liam to Spencer. Song about how they're frequently mistaken for just best friends and how happy it makes him to correct that they're more than that. Song chosen so piano and drums play the beats together. Sound: "A Little Honey" by Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats

Be Cool - Spencer to Liam. Quirky/self-deprecating song about his butterflies about being with someone he's in awe of. Sound: "Heart's Content" by Brandi Carlile

a romantic - June to Nora. Confirms that Nora is aromantic to public. June saying she would never need more from Nora bc she gets to wake up next to her best friend every day. Sound: "Tu" by maye.

bluebonnet - This place (Texas) was never a home to me until you showed me how it was a part of you and now I see you everywhere. Sound & lyrically: "I Think of You" by Rodriguez.

red-blooded (August 2029)

cover: Navy suit w white shirt and American Flag pin on lapel, cropped so only torso is showing

Americana sound again - about 50/50 rock and Americana. Features from Dolly Parton, Orville Peck, and Brandon Flowers

blue blood (August 2029)

cover: red British army dress, cropped so only torso is showing

British glam rock sounds. Features from Elton John, Brian May, and samples David Bowie.

co-written with Henry

-

AND as for where they go from the end of the fic:

Alex becomes a civil rights lawyer in Austin.

Henry's writing career grows but he remains relatively private.

June becomes a music journalist. Eventually ventures into exposes on the industry's shady practices and successfully pivots into investigative journalism

Nora does her own thing.

Liam stays in music industry as a band manager under Zahra's tutelage.

Spencer majored in music production/mixing(?) and gets taken under Pez's wing. Has a smaller solo career and produces for a few indie bands before he settles down and works as a sound mixer in the film industry.

Bea continues to play guitar and flit between collaboration projects.

Zahra is the band's manager and Shaan is Henry's publicist/mentor and they meet while officially strategizing Alex's coming out.

[poopingonthefloor]

Davesport is Toxic NOT abusive

(((WARNING: PRETTY LONG POST UNDER THE CUT.))) I've seen some people making the claims that Davesport is comship/proship (ok well i've more seen people bitching about it) and im tired of the Davesport slander so this will be an analysis of their relationship. My motive isn't to force anyone to ship it or anything- i really dont care what you do with your life, my frustration is just when people try to make up REASONS why they don't like the ship, even though its literally canon (and not badly written). My main point is -- You can hate what you want. You don't need a reason, and it doesn't need to be bad just because you don't like it. But I will not take any slander on their ship nor any slander of people who like davesport. Davesport is absolutely toxic-- No DSAF fan would disagree. They are literally child murderers with little to no souls and literally are physically disfigured to the point they don't have the capacity to feel proper humanity anymore. You cant expect 2 men who live their lives willingly murdering and then partying in vegas to celebrate on repeat to be gentle and kind to themselves or anyone else.

However, its NOT abusive. I've seen multiple people (mostly from twitter screenshots) claim that Davesport is abusive or the way people portray it is in a fetishy or romanticizing way of abuse, when that's just not the case. I don't blame a lot of people, since a lot of it comes from reading context and intent of the artist, which not everyone is good at-- BUT I'm here to assure you that MOST people don't intend to do that much and just like to portray how their dynamic is canonically like or portray Daves obsession with Jack. Another argument I've seen (by a twitter screenshot...) is that people are comshipping Davesport because people draw Jack annoyed a lot at Dave when...thats not true? That's just Jack's personality, first off:

(From the Dave x Reader fanfic by Directdoggo)

"Jack is a bastardman not very touchy-feely. We can see this in many scenes, where Dave more or less says “I love you” and Jack responds with deflecting humour, or outright scorn. When Dave says it for the final time, this time, Jack tries to say it back, but can’t outright, only getting out: “Why is this so hard?” and “I hope you can find peace with what you’ve done.” Which Dave understood the meaning of. (Hey, better than Henry (LEGACY Jack) hearing “I love you” and proceeding to tear Dave limb from limb, huh?"

(Directdoggo describing Jack's personality)

I know it can be a little confusing to some people, but as someone who struggles with similar issues, just because he struggles to express intimately doesn't mean he can't love anything. Sometimes people are just different and communicating like that doesn't come as easily, even to the people you're closest to. To make it as easy as possible to comprehend-- He's quite literally a tsundere. (Minus the exaggerated ridiculousness in anime) He loves Dave, he just cant bring himself to say or act like it. The dismissiveness or rudeness in response to Dave's affection is not abuse, it's just a defensive response since he doesn't know how to say it back. (His way of being "shy") -- Also note its important that Dave UNDERSTANDS this about him by that point.

However Jack isn't the only thing I've seen regarding the claims that their ship is abusive-- and to debunk all of those I'm going to explain the three points that keep Davesport from being abusive, and I'll use Henry x Dave (which is what I'll call it to prevent it getting confused for FNAF willry) as an example alongside it since its super obvious why that one is messed up. Firstly, They are both bad people. By this point, Dave and Jack are murderers. It's just not surprising that they will be willing to kill each other at at least some point, considering they are willing to kill 5 year olds without remorse- and they'll both deserve it. It's only their own faults that they teamed up with the other, and it's meant to be the ultimate irony when Jack becomes even worse than Dave by "An ending". My point is- they're bad people. It's not like they're owed perfect company or would choose wholesome people to hang out with when they're literally both child murderers. Dave wasn't evil and didn't want to kill by the time he teamed up with Henry (and even after it was Henry's fault), so by that point his suffering was absolutely undeserved.

Secondly, They're lacking any specific power dynamic. Unlike Henry and Dave- whom have several levels of "Age, Father figure, and Employer", the most important one is that Henry is Dave's abuser. He manipulated him and purposefully harmed him both mentally and physically, whereas Dave never had any intention of doing either because Dave loved him and didn't want to lose him (because he had nobody else) This obviously much different with Dave and Jack, whom other than being taller and several years older than (which you can argue their 6 year age gap is weird but they didnt get to know each other till they were both older than 30 so by that point age difference doesnt rlly matter and (also theyre "mentally" like 24 and 22 canonically anyways (as much as I usually hate that argument)) Other then that they are only co-workers. This is a bit more arguable during DSAF 1, where Dave comes across more threatening and comes across like he's manipulating Jack, but I don't exactly count that because I wouldn't say theyre "shippable" or in their "situationship*" by that point (but also because them even being a ship was barely considered by the creator at that point obviously)-- whereas Dave is certainly more easily recognized as sincere to Jack in DSAF 2. Jack also is not someone who is afraid to defend himself against Dave, as shown by the fact he's willing to call out Dave's ridiculous behaviors (which is reasonable of him to do).

(Also from the Dave x reader fanfic) (I just think this specific screenshot debunks any sort of "power dynamic" claim)

My Third and Final point: There is a CHOICE involved I haven't really done much Dave defense in this post, but his defense is very simple: He is literally physically unable to comprehend guilt or conscience. Dave didn't want to murder anyone in the first place, but it was Henry who fucked with his (literal) head so much to the point he stopped being able to feel guilt. He doesn't care about murder and doing wrong because he CAN'T care. You can't really let that reflect Dave as a character when he's really not in control of himself in the first place. Now with that, that doesn't change the fact he could certainly affect and hurt people, and it's fully up to Jack as to whether or not he wants to deal with this purple man's freakish life choices and hobbies or not. And that's honestly super dependent on the ending you decide to base Jack on. Most people see the 'canon' endings to be: Gnarly ending (DSAF 1) -> An ending (DSAF 2) -> Good ending (DSAF 3) Where in all of these, Jack DOES choose to deal with Dave and basically is completely cool with murder. You don't have to follow those endings if you don't want to, but that's just typically what the modern "Davesport" is known for, but its what I'm using for my defense (considering this is a defense of both fandom and canon Davesport.) Though as opposed with Henry and Dave- Dave had no choice. Henry only ever manipulated him into thinking he did, and Henry made sure to feed this whole 'we will be a family' ideal into Dave (who never had one) so that Dave would be terrified to lose him. Jack never manipulates Dave (when teamed up with him), and Dave never manipulates Jack (tho arguable in DSAF 1 as well). They stay with each other despite all of their issues, and I believe its due to some co-dependency (imo I think Jack is also obsessed with Dave just in a different way before DSAF 3) Which isn't healthy, but not...inherently abusive.

I believe my main three points kind of cover the most of why I dont consider Davesport to be inherently a bad ship, but like I said- if you don't like it, none of that matters anyways. You dont NEED a reason to like something, and I wont try to convince you why you should ship something because I like it. Just don't hate it just because of what someone else says-- 90% of the dsaf fandom aren't comshippers, and Davesport isn't gross or "toxic /neg" just because it's not healthy. I think "Don't fetishize/romanticize literal abuse like its normal or sexy" and "We should explore more complicated and unhealthy dynamics" can and SHOULD coincide with each other!!!! I think Davesport is great because of how bittersweet it is that these two people finally found solace and acceptance in each other but couldn't get past the self-sabotaging nature of what Henry turned them both into, ultimately making it impossible to work out forever. I think embracing the Davesport makes the (kind of aged) trilogy a lot more enjoyable of an experience and I DO encourage any davesport skeptics to keep an open mind. [Pretend I wrapped this up super nicely I can never do that--- Also this is open for conversation and/or debate, and also yada yada my bad if i said something randomly terrible I have extremely poor social skills lol let me know so I dont do it again yada yada] *Also if anyone doesnt know a situationship is (at least in the context im using it in ive heard other definitions for it but its not a real word so i actually dont care) when 2(or more) people basically treat eachother like lovers but they never communicate this outright and dont technically officially date but like they treat and commit to eachother like a partner would) (So its kind of what all those people who playfully flirt and call each other their spouses as a commited running joke are in)

[chronicbeans]

okayokay I really wanna know some headcanons on what it would be like if puppeteer reader never got knocked out and wally never tricked them and they now just have to deal with wally being part of their daily household life in the real world 😭

Yippee! Okay, so I think this is how it would go...

Wally Darling Living Life with a Puppeteer Reader in the Real World:

🏡 You better be ready for some chaos. In this world, you probably decided not to even threaten Wally with burning. He probably managed to, somehow, convince you that he will be good from now on. He truly means it, too! The problem is... He doesn't understand what humans can and cannot take.

🏡 You see, as an example, he'll probably be confused about what you are doing with your mouth and that piece of food. Puppets don't eat. Well, Wally does, but he eats with his eyes. He just kinda... Stares the food into nonexistence. So, when he hears that humans, like Henry, Angela, and yourself, need to chew and swallow? He is amazed and wants to try so himself! This causes him to get peanut butter and jelly stuck in his felt for about a week.

🏡 When you begin working, again, you realize that Wally can't come home with you. You put him in the tote, telling him to stay put. However, when you get in your car, he is somehow already in the passenger seat and ready to go back to your place. Your boss keeps asking you where he goes, but you just tell him you don't know.

🏡 Wally's voice actor (who I actually have a draft in the works for information on my version of them), Eddie's puppeteer, and everyone else who was present at the night of the incident will avoid you because Wally is ALWAYS close to you. They're smart people, and Eddie's puppeteer saw with their own eyes that it was him. They all know that Wally is a threat that is not to be trifled with.

🏡 Angela is probably going to be tormented everyday by just the knowledge that Wally is alive. She'll never get over it. The only small thing that makes it better is that she gets to see Henry make a friend. They ended up making up for Wally breaking into her room, so now Henry and Wally are constantly hanging out whenever you aren't around. She also likes the fact that Henry has someone else to look over him if you ever get sick.

🏡 The one downside for Wally is that, because he never really gets any sleep, he is going to be getting more and more tired. He can get a little sleep whenever you are there to watch over him, though. Especially if you hold him like a stuffed animal while you sleep! He will be out like a light switch if you do that.

🏡 Wally will have some sensory issues. His neighborhood is all soft and plush. He has tried to describe it. The most he can really say is that it is like all your senses are muffled. So, when he is in your world, everything can just be too much at times. When he gets like this, you'll most likely find him in your room, rocking back and forth a bit or scribbling aggressively on a piece of paper with any writing utensils he can find, not really drawing anything and just doing so to move his arm in a soothing manner. In those cases, he likes to have you give him a tight hug to ground him. It reminds him of the ones Barnaby gives him when he is in the neighborhood, actually. Just not as fluffy.

[zahri-melitor]

Finished Batman: The Knight.

Oh my god is this a good comic. It very much reminded me that Zdarsky and I are on very similar wavelengths in terms of what we look for in a story. This felt like, no joke, someone had picked my brain of what I expected to see and had envisioned existed during the events of Bruce's training quest, and presented it to me on a platter, divided between 9 separate masters, each chosen and elaborated out of various hints and suggestions over the years.

It wasn't perfect; some of these mentors and masters were in effect standing in as a summary of multiple known characters with these skillsets, while others altered and shifted earlier versions of this history to fit better. But it made for a coherent update, and cleaned up a lot of pre-Crisis and early post-Crisis conception of this period that no longer fitted together as neatly, and sorted out the timings, and made it make sense.

For instance, we know there are multiple single blow techniques, from various secret masters. Shiva knows most if not all of them, and we know of several different masters and traditions who have them (O-Sensei, Richard Dragon and Ben Turner: the Leopard Blow; Legless Master: the Whispering Hand; Master Kirigi: the Vibrating Palm Strike). Shiva also knows The Scapel, The Wind Through the Reeds, The Lion's Paw, Wave and Shore, and the Skullcrack.

But Bruce doesn't need to learn all of those in the course of this story. He needs to learn one, as a representation of that period of his education. And so Master Kirigi got pulled forward to be the representative of the set.

We got more Henri Ducard, and a Ducard that was back to his pre-Flashpoint version. We had Giovanni Zatara and Zatanna. We had Lucie as a stand in for Selina's teachers. We actually got two teachers in the realms of 'stupid shit Bruce has done to his brain': but in this case we got to offset Hugo Strange (who could not trick Bruce, and who must always fundamentally know who Bruce is even as nobody believes him) with Daniel Captio, who is allowed to train Bruce in weird mental techniques and stands in for everyone else (Professor Milo. Dr Hurt. Whoever convinced him to do the Thögal Ritual. Etc etc)

It was elegant. And I don't think it needed any more of Ra's and Talia in it than it had; indeed what we got was a tight compression of some Denny O'Neil and some Mike Barr Ra's story themes into the underlying fundamental origin of the relationship, but not a full discussion of all its features. There are so many more stories out there further elaborating on their many conflicts.

Also Zdarsky does love Tim so much and had fun with parallels and I laughed several times in issue 10 because apparently we were playing Like Father Like Son. Love some good family theming going on in Al Ghul conflict.

It's just been such a while since I had the experience of sitting down and reading a story that in many ways felt like something I had already believed, but had never seen spelled out, and knew that how I wanted it to go in my head contradicted some known comics beats. This smoothed those contradictions out and gave me how I had wanted to conceptualise all of this.