#I love seeing faggots just like me on my little screen

[figtreefan]

Your honour, they are faggots. Thank you and I will not be taking further questions at this time.

[bigboysfalldeep]

Soccer Boy - Mind Slave

I moved to a new town, got a new job, and started a new life. I wanted to start over, but all of that changed when I found my new roommate. Mike, 22, is chronically obsessed with the gym, playing soccer, and, what matters most, broke. He was looking for a roommate to basically pay rent while he spent all of his money on his body and his athletic career.

I simply couldn't resist. I saved so much money throughout my life that I could sustain that flat, pretending to be an office worker, when in fact, I use my time to take over men's minds and have my way with their bodies and their bank accounts. I tried to hide my desire in front of him, but somehow he saw right through me. It must have been the way I was looking at him working out, or maybe he realized I was going through his stuff.

One day, he confronted me, got angry, and called me a faggot. Still, he didn't kick me out; instead, he even teased me more and more, but got angry with me when he caught me looking. I needed him to obey me soon. One day, he joined me in the living room, wearing his soccer kit, while I was watching TV. "What are you doing here, fag?" He grunted, snatched the remote from my hands, and made space for him on the sofa. "Watching TV." I mumbled when he shoved me aside with his body, so I was now on the edge of the sofa. "Not anymore." He smiled for a second before giving me an annoyed look. I believed that if it were for my money, he would have gotten rid of me ages ago. But he needed me, and I wanted him.

I took my phone, unlocked it, and went to a specific app. A wonderful little thing I came across a year ago. It lets me remotely control any phone with this installed, sending signals, images, and electronic impulses through the device. While he was showering, I prepared his phone, just waiting for the perfect moment. I wanted him so bad, seeing him in his kit, his thick dick bulging already, and his muscles testing the limits of the shirt fabric.

With one little click, I sent a push-up note to his phone, a small message disguised as an Instagram notification. Mike took his phone and, with a smirk, opened it. Right when he clicked on the note, his screen turned dark before a spiral appeared all over the screen, a dozen colors spinning and turning, sucking him deeper and deeper. He instantly froze, his body tensed, and his eyes grew wide. "What the fuuuck?" he said, stretching the last word.

I could tell he was hooked right away. I have seen that countless times before. Those men, strong and buff, are mostly weak-minded. Easy to manipulate. "A pretty little thing, isn't it?" I said, moving a little closer to him. Mike moved his head to look at me, but something made him look into the beautiful spiral. "It...is." He nodded slowly, still focused on his phone. With one press of a button, I activated the second function of the app, letting it send low electric impulses through his hands and, later, his entire body. Mikes body twitched shortly, once, twice, the phone firm in his hand. I love seeing men like that, their bodies getting encouraged to tense and to grow bigger, and so did his. At first, his biceps grew larger, followed by his pecs, chest, and abs. They're now extremely visible through the shirt, and his nipples pierce through it as well. My eyes wandered down his beautiful body to his pulsating dick. It moved from left to right, up and down, dancing, wanting me to grab it. But I needed to be careful. I place a hand on his shoulder and lean in.

"Mike, can you hear me?" I said, and he nodded. "Yes." He started drooling slightly. "Good boy. Then listen to me. I want you to go even deeper into your mind. Let go of your physical form; let your body obey me; follow my every order." I said, intensifying the grip on his shoulder. For a second, it seemed like it wasn't working, until he leaned his head back, moaning quietly. Mike closed his eyes before his head sank down to his chest. "Heads up, boy," I said, and slowly, he did. I watched him sit there, drooling, his cock still twitching and his well-formed body pressing against his clothes.

I couldn't help but start to touch him. I placed my hands on his chest, stroking him harder and harder while he looked into the void, his normally bright eyes now dull and vacant. "So good." I chuckled nervously. Better than I imagined. "Lean Back." I ordered. "Yes." Mike said it like a robot and rested his back against the sofa while I kept touching his wonderful chest. I could tell he enjoyed it, partly by the derpy smile spreading across his lips and his cock tenting inside his shorts. "I want more." I ran a hand through my hair, thinking about what to do next. "Take your socks off." I grabbed his hard cock before he reached for his feet as I got up.

"Very good." I smiled and kneeled down. As Mike sat there, I fondled his big thighs, tracing the outlines of his tattoo with a finger before grabbing his cock some more. It was already leaking quite a bit—a wet spot spreading through the thin fabric of his shorts.

"You like it, faggot?" I said angrily, channeling his anger towards me. "Yes." He drooled harder while I began to move my hand up and down his massive cock. Mike started to moan loudly, again and again. "Fuck." I removed myself,got up, p and motioned for him to do the same.

"Take that shirt off." I pulled at it and watched him slowly undress himself.

"Very good boy, indeed." I said, and I took a step closer, placing both of my hands at his thick pecs again, before playing with his cute nipples. "Freeze." Mike's body tensed again, all of his muscles reacting to my every touch. I began to touch him again, firmly, with my hands encompassing all of his upper body.

My hands ran up and down his pecs, abs, and even up to his neck. I felt his shoulders, his firm biceps, and back to his beautiful chest, but when I looked into his eyes, I could tell he was slowly gaining consciousness again. "No." My whole body was shaking, and I panicked for a second before I saw his phone still lying on the sofa.

I took it and handed it to him. "Mike, look at the pretty spiral again." He nodded and looked at his phone again.

I needed to do something. And there was one thing I could do. I picked up my phone, opened the app, and clicked on the electrical impulse button. This time, I increased the frequency and power of the pulse. Mike's whole body got stiff and rigid while shaking slightly. "Can you hear me, Mike?" I said nervously, and after a few seconds, he opened his mouth again.

"Yes." I sighed. "Good. Now. You will go even deeper. Let go of your struggles. Let me tell you what to do. Let your body be my slave." I said, and with that last word, he closed his eyes, and the phone dropped to the floor. I walked around him and hugged him from behind, letting my hard cock grind on his tight hole through his shorts. I needed to restrain myself, or otherwise I would have shot a load right then and there.

"Take them off." I moaned loudly, pressing my crotch against his arse. Slowly, Mike moved his hands and managed to pull them down without falling over.

Now just in his boxers, he stood there, drooling and his cock leaking more and more, staining his tight white boxers with precious cum. From behind, I grabbed his erect cock and played with it, jerking him off while he let out moan after moan. I felt myself leaking now too. "Kneel." I whispered into his ear, and without another word, he did. Enjoying the sight of my cocky roomate on his knees, I walked around, positioning my throbbing cock right in front of his soft face.

"Pull my pants down." I smirked and watched him grab my waist and slip his fingers inside my pants. Tenderly, he pulled it down, causing my cock to bounce, making me chuckle. I never imagined him sucking me off, and right now, I could live that fantasy. "Worship my cock, boy." I touched myself before he leaned in, kissing it, licking it, and touching it passionately. Mike steadied himself against my thighs and went all in.

I shot a load prematurely, the thick liquid pressing through the thin fabric. Instantly, Mike sucked it off before fondling with my dick again. "Good boy, now, suck." I grabbed my cock and felt him pull my boxers down. At first, my wet dick slapped him roughly, flushing his face with color, but he didn't mind. In a second, he took all of me inside his mouth and started to suck me off. And it felt good—so good, like fucking the perfect mouth—and even though he claimed to be straight, he must have done this before. Mike knew how to push my buttons, how to move his mouth, and how not to gag with my cock inside him.

It didn't take long for me to reach my limits, but before he could finish me, I pulled out. Just in time for me to cum all over his face. It spread all over his face; he flinched and groaned. The second one erupted towards his bare chest, covering him in my sticky cum. Again and again, I shot another load, covering him fully. "Fuuuuck." I moaned, trying my best to control myself. As soon as I went dry, I stroked Mike's face, neck, and chest, rubbing my cum into his skin. "Like that." I pet him playfully while he just nods.

His eyes rolled back for a second before a derpy smile spread across his face again. "Get up." I said, and he did. I could tell he enjoyed it too, given the massive wet patch all around his still-throbbing dick. "Are you done?" I touched his neck and his dick. To my surprise, he shook his head. "Follow me then." I led him into my bedroom and sat down on the bed, motioning for him to join me. Turning him around, I hugged him from behind again, one arm on his chest, the other around his neck.

"Now for the finale." I breathed down his neck, choking him slightly. Mike didn't fight back; he took a deep breath, awaiting my commands.

"Every time I touch you, you will get hard. Your body will crave my touch; it will crave a release from my hand and my will." I said, stroking him lovingly while choking him. I managed to pull his wet cock out of his briefs, causing him to groan breathlessly. "You can touch yourself and play with yourself; nothing will make you cum. And once the pressure gets too high, you will get back into this state and follow my orders." I said, tightening my grip. Instinctively, he grabbed his own cock with both of his hands, trying to make him cum, but nothing happened. "Do you understand me?" I said, letting him breathe again. "Yes." Mike moaned, and his body went stiff again. "Once you release yourself now, this will be your reality. You will be mine; you will be a slave." I stroked him while he took another breath. "I will be yours." He said that, and with that, I wrapped my hand around his cock. With one move, the tip erupted, and I aimed for his chest again. This time, it was his own cum. I loved seeing his body twitch, his eyes so blank, and his cock so hard.

After a minute of shooting massive loads, he went dry as well, and I released Mike. "Get up and get clean, pig." I pushed him, and he stood up. "Once you're done, you will get out of that state again and won't remember a thing about today. The condition is what stays." He looked at me with his eyes shining slightly, nodded, and left. 

I fell down onto the bed, touching myself again. This is going to be fun.

[messybouquetoflilies]

This wasn't the reason before, but after seeing your new dumb post my new reason is because you think you aren't "safe" around Trump supporters. You are a clear victim to fear porn if you believe that. Trump and Harris are both liars, frauds, and puppets for a corrupt system, but Trump supporters (for the most part) are amazingly wonderful people (other than their blind allegiance to an actor playing his part, just like Harris plays hers). The vast majority do not care if you're a faggot pretending to be a girl, they just want you to stop guilting, shaming, and trying to force everyone else to play pretend with you (as well as supporting the indoctrination and grooming of children). If you want to live inside your imagination, then by all means go ahead, but that doesn't mean the rest of the world needs to play along with your delusions or be quiet with their opinions.

Regardless of what you think of this message, I want to implore you not to give in to fear. If you live a life centered around love, then you have nothing to be afraid of. If you turn people into monsters inside your head, then of course that's what you'll see when you look at them, regardless of the reality in front of you.

Get off Tumblr. Get off the internet. Breathe fresh air. Walk on grass. TALK to people face to face and live inside the real world. You're killing your soul by spending so much time online, drowning in toxic, hateful ideologies. Thinking with your dick instead of your heart. I'm pretty sure you don't believe you have a soul, anyway, which is just further proof you're destroying yourself. Why else would someone get off to being beaten and abused? Being treated like a dog? You have no self-worth and you want everyone else to be just as miserable as you. You don't love yourself, so how can you ever expect anyone else to love you? All you'll ever find is people who get off to the idea of fucking and hurting the costume you choose to attach yourself to. Your entire life is the way it is because you don't take accountability for anything. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. You are on the wrong path. In ten years when you're in the exact same spot, wondering why things are so bad for you, why people cut you out of their lives, questioning what you could have done differently, feeling alone and unlovable, still staring at your computer screen and wishing things would change, still pretending like it's the world's fault and not your own, I hope you remember this anon and start making the right choices for yourself. You're a man. Get your shit together and act like one. Then once you've finally learned to love yourself as you are and you straighten out the mess of your life, by all means - act like the dumbest, prettiest lil' puppy bitch you wanna be behind closed doors. Separate reality from fantasy instead of trying to merge them into one. You will NEVER find happiness if you carry on how you have been. The only people who will love you are the ones who are happy to keep you sick and mentally ill so long as that means they never have to face their own demons.

it really is the most boring piece of shit little worm answers from people like you lol. crazy you tell me im on this website too much when you literally respond to my posts within minutes. someones obsessed 😇

why is it always the same speech 😔 cant you loser pieces if shit come up w something new and interesting to say? ive heard this before. you're wrong. there you go, thats my argument. it has just about the same level of depth and introspection as the 9 paragraphs you just sent. you get to see one side of me on the internet with no context and you think you can say all that. get a life

spending your free time sending personalized, anons to a blog in a dark corner of the internet that averages 1 note a post, and then telling them they spend too much time on the website is psycho behavior. get help, and make actual friends im begging you.

you're weird and gross for thinking like this. stop trying to control other people you know nothing about, and do a lil work on urself. look into your own beliefs and the sources you're getting your entertainment and information from. get some perspective in life and stop wasting your time being such a sad, boring, loser <3

[mcondance]

challengers live watch

opening

patrick…… i kinda need him……..

why is art doing all this moaning just to hit this ball??

hotel

THEY’RE MARRIED WITH A KID???

hotel pt. 2

she kinda mean

his hand on her leg…. uh huh

“i love you” “i know” FUCK???

patrick hotel

declined? broke ass nigga. with them little ass shorts on.

anyway i’d give him the room for free i gotta fuck him

about to pause and read some patrick smut i fear (i did not pause)

present day / flashback scene

NOT THEY USED TO PLAY TOGETHER

what they doin….. get off the ground…..

tashi’s match

the lean back…… “look at that fucking backhand” art there are some sexual urges arising in me

grabbing his thigh was gay as hell

the focus on her shadow is nice

i would like two men ogling over me doing what i love.

beach

the way art’s looking at her…..

are they gay…. yk i don’t believe in all that

the score is…. alluding towards danger……

art and patrick’s hotel + tennis the day after

“we do wanna fuck her in here” real

THEM FREEZING??:$:$:

oh my fucking god i need to see that on the big screen. and you know exactly what i’m talking about. fuck. rewind!

dayum they playing hard for that pussy

present day challenger

i’m seeing cock and balls from everyone but art and patrick……. don’t piss me off

patrick’s date

the fuck did he do to art and tashi?? 😭😭😭😭

thirteen years earlier

he mad asf

12 years earlier / lunch w/ tashi

art messy as hell

she’s sooooo mean.

tennis w/ patrick

this soundtrack is great

art and patrick should fight idk!

not art tryna get intel…. oh bitch he messy

pulling the chair closer?? they gay.

eating churros? dick-shaped food i know what y’all are

ART YOU’RE MESSY

“it’s exciting to see you this way” i bet it is faggot

brushing his face off?? fag. sharing a churro? FAG

sex (?) scene

her fingers in his mouth 😁😁😁

dayum did she come out the womb with a tennis racket in her hand?????

injury + present day

screaming at patrick…. alright. don’t yell at my man.

why is art doing all this pansy ass fucking whining

doing all this fighting….. just fuck!

past

these transitions r nice. i should see this in the theater

i kinda feel bad for her. like damn her whole career gone just like that….. that’s fucked up

“earlier that week”

“earlier that week” i will kill you

patrick kinda an asshole like i know he fucking stinks

zendaya got this crazy look in her eyes

NOT SHE SLAPPED HIM????

“right the fuck now. quit.” she’s everything actually

what happened in atlanta.

she’s so grown woman fine oh my fucking god

and she kept his number oh yeah

“8 years earlier” bitch you got me doing math to figure out what year it is fuck

OH BITCH WE’RE IN ATLANTA

“the day before” i’m gonna kill you

“can you put your dick away” not before i see it

NOOOO PULL IT OUT PLEASEEE YALL ARE EDGING ME

sauna

can they just fuck oh my god

“i miss playing with you” i bet you do

hotel

dayum???

“can you just hold me until i fall asleep?” oh my god?

is art gonna kill himself

wait is she actually gonna leave him if he loses

midnight

get back in that room right now. motherfucker.

challenger

why the hell am i in their head baby i’m not him!

midnight

they doin a sneak link and you married…. they doin a sneaklink and you married. they doin a sneaklink inna tornado and you married.

“taking good care of my little white boys” she’s me

the sign of art in the back as they’re kissing…. my god

sneaklink…. in a tornado……

challenger

idk what tennis stuff means….. is he throwing it badly on purpose or what

IS HE GONNA DO THE RACKET THING

no

what’s he doin

stop fucking around patrick damn

HE IS DOING THE RACKET THING

oh he’s messy bitch

why am i the ball???

why am i the ground?????

besties forever

THAT’S IT???

[bondew]

"Ew girls" "Why did he just assume it was a girl" Boys that isn't very straight of you!!

Cadence Lane.

I'm still very confused on what came over me just before, like that's probably the first time I've aplogised since maybe last year? And I didn't even do anything wrong?! Something is wrong with me. I pull on my jacket and sit down on my bed, my hair has flopped back into it's regular messy state, I scroll though my camera roll for a while. So long that I end looking at pictures of me from early highschool. God I was so weird, I just want to go back in time and warn myself. I stare at one photo for a while, it's of me and my dad. My hair is all long and messy, I have a funny hat on and a wide, real smile. He has the same smile and is gripping my shoulder in a side hug. My screen turns off and I see my reflection in the deep void, my eyes are welling up.. I quickly wipe the tears away and stand up, tossing my phone behind me. Pacing back and forward I struggle to figure out what to do, noticing its already dark out I take off my shirt and then slide my jacket back on, jumping into some black and white checkered pants I grab my cosemetics bag. Heading down the staircase I enter the bathrooms and instantly want to leave. My eyes lock onto the group of boys and make my way to the sink to my right, I'm as far away to them as possible and praying they leave me alone. After brushing my teeth and whiting them I grab some cleanser out of my bag and start to wash my face. The boys start whispering, then their voices get louder. "Faggot! Sissy!" They call across the bathroom, I try to hold back my anger, "Stupid femboy!" Taking subtly deep breaths I flip them off to release a little steam. Continuing I finally finish up and shove all my stuff away. They keep going, even though I'm about to leave. God I wish I could just punch them all right now. I go to grab the door handle but someone from the other side turns it first. The room goes silent as that red-head boy from before enters. I Look back at the group who are all now smiling like their innocent. "I heard some comotion in here? Is everything ok?" I hear a concerned bubbly voice say, the boys all make up some random excuse and move on with it. Why is that guy friends with them, they seem so different? And why does he keep appearing? I try not to think about anything when I get back to my room, I just sit on the bed, open my laptop and scroll.

Dazz Shawn.

Half of my friends have left my the time I've finished brushing my teeth. I mess around a bit with my orange hair before getting pulled to leave by my group, we all head outside and sit on the field. Their aren't many stars in the sky having been in a city but its still quite nice. We all chuck our toiletries on the floor and then we just run. Not like drills or anything just for fun, no one's really said a word. I mean thats how it normally is, this is just ruitine. Honestly it's the highlight of my day, I actually smile, I have fun with my friends, I'm free. It's nice. Not having to worry, not having to care what anyone thinks. I fall onto my back into a patch of long-ish grass and everyone joins me. "I love you guys." I say, sure my friends can be a bit mean at times. But.. well they don't know this but they are the reason I'm still here, if it wasn't for them just existing. Well how do I put this.. I wouldn't exist anymore? We are all just smiling, I've forgotten everything about today. This is what university life is. We slowly all head back to out own dorms, I walk back alone. Just relaxing, still smiling.

Cadence Lane.

I slowly wake up and glance at my phone, realising its 10am I jolt to my feet. As I realise it's saturday I fall back down. My laptop has been knocked to the floor, I plug it in and proceed to make my bed. Brushing my hair I slide on some regular pants and sit back down. Scratching my chest I check my notifications, there's none. I start to scroll through my socials when the regular saturday morning chatter arrives. As I run my fingers through my hair I step outside to realise how many people there actually is, girls and boys are all gathered in circles, leaning on walls, just chatting away. "Can you all just shut up?! Its saturday morning for fucks sake!" I say with a tone, so it will reach above the chatter. Everyone goes silent, with just a couple whispers. I grab my toothbrush and toothpaste and shove past the croud to get to the bathroom. I hate to admit it but I hear girls swoon. Ew girls. I quickly finish up and then stomp back to my room, I just know today is going to suck. The hallway has actually gotten quieter, surprisingly. Guess I just have yell at people to get my way, I can deal with that. I make my way down to the kitchen and grab my ingredients from the fridge, checking no one has taken any I start cooking. Reheating my rice in the microwave, I top it with a fried egg, scallions, soy sauce and some leftover meat. "Mmm! That smells great!" A voice gets closer, he peers over my shoulder. I take a quick glance at his face, why does he just appear?! "Um yes.." I reply, a bit awkward. Shit shit, what is happening to me. My voice is softer than before, a bit calmer. I sit down at the table, trying to get out of the conversation. Thankfully he gets the message and gives up on talking to me, I break up the egg and start to eat my breakfast. "Wait- didn't you just come out of the bathroom and brush your teeth?" The voice appears again and sits down infront of me. "Um yes?" "Who brushes their teeth before breakfast?!" "Well it's better for your anamal over time." I go back to my cold stare, the guy shrugs and starts to eat cereal while sitting with me. It's insanely awkward but.. oh well, he'll probably just appear again if I leave.

Dazz Shawn.

SHITTT WHAT AM I DOING?! Why am I sitting with a total stranger, why am I talking to a total stranger? Who am I and what have I done with the real me?! Deep breaths Dazz.. just put your dish in the washer and leave now. As I stand up my bestfriend slings his arm around be he suddenly speaks, "Yo Dazz, I had the weirdest dream last night, I was like flying, on like a giant apple.. singing Ariana Grande? Oh yeah, she was there too singing with me.. she's so hot." He laughed, "Did you like have any dreams?" I immediately go red as he suddenly jogs my memory, I had managed to forget what my dream was a couple hours ago. "Oh.. um.." "Omg- was it a sex dream?! It wasss!" He says a bit too loud and I get even more flushed. "No it was not!" I cover his mouth, "Just of someone I like, nothing weird or anything." "YOU LIKE SOMEONE?!" He rips my hand off his mouth and shouts this, "Who…?" He smirks and starts listing girls name. I start walking faster and further away, trying to get my skin back to it's normal colour. I'm finally at my room and instead of being calm and taking deep breaths, breathing becomes significantly harder than normal. I break into a sweat and my mind starts racing, who heard him? Why did he say that so loud? Why did he just assume it was a girl? Do I tell him it wasn't? Do I come out to him? Why did I say 'someone I like' I don't really even like them! That guy probably thought I was stupid or weird when I talked to him!? I sit on my bed and start taping each finger besides ring with my thumb, my tears start to slow down and my breathing returns to normal. I hear knocks at my door, wiping my teachers before they make my eyes super red I answer. "Oh hello!" I say in my cheery voice, the guy from my dream- I mean the guy I talked to this morning is holding my jacket. "You forgot this?" I snatch it back and thank him, it feels impolite to close the door so we just stand there. He grabs to door knob and closes it himself. How did he know where I live? Oh wait- my door has a picture of myself on it.. right. Forgot my friends put that there. I bury my face in the jacket and force myself just to sleep this bad day out.

[klinefelterrible]

I apologise but I had an epiphany and got inspired so I wrote this little thing and I just need to post it here as it seems appropriate

cw: right-wing trump supporters, parents allowing priests and children, police

Kid: Dad let's play that game you loved so much when you were a kid

Dad: Yeah okay, let's find it online....

Dad: Aaaand yeah, I guess that's it.

Kid: press 'play', Dad

Dad: and it's loading... Wait a minute, this game used to be ad-free! "Do you believe in Jesus Christ?" What the fuck?

Kid: better click 'yes', Dad

Dad: why would I do that

Kid: because it will... Yeah, that

Dad: why would the screen turn blank all of the sudden?

Kid: *sigh* put it into flight mode, clean the cookies and reload the page

Dad: okay, it's back on. What, the same question?

Kid: click 'yes'

Dad: another question! 'How many days spent Christ the saviour in the desert?' What am I, his travel journalist? Fuck that! I'm typing '666'

Kid: *sigh* and now the game has only four levels

Dad: four?! It had 1599 levels and 43 bonuses!

Kid: *sigh* yes, but not in the Christian Safe Space, Dad. See the little cross next to the address bar? Either you answer the quick 10 questions about the Bible and another five every two levels, or you won't play it, even if you pay

Dad: does pirate bay still exist?

Kid: yes, but when you type it to the browser...

*ding dong*

Dad: someone's at the door

Kid: it's the priest, with the policeman and that masked guy with the whip

Dad: what the fuck?

Kid: they will make sure you repent for your sins

Dad: what sins

Kid: thinking of stealing

Dad: can't I type nothing?

Kid: yeah you could type some porn and the priests and policemen would kidnap mom and my sister and rape them and record it for you to watch, if you like to watch so much

Dad:

Dad: pinch me

Kid: the best way is to just follow the rules

Dad: no fucking way

Priest, peeking through the window: If you don't open the door in two minutes, we're going in and taking the child away

Kid: he means me

Dad: all I wanted was to play a game

Policeman, opening a window with his baton: YOU VOTED FOR TRUMP, YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN

Dad: but I'm a republican! Why are you doing this to me?

Priest: were you a good boy?

Dad: yes

Kid: no

Priest: dad gets 20 whips and kid 10

Kid: okay

Dad: why?

Priest: you lied to a minister

Dad: oh kill me already

Policeman: can be done, just resist

Priest: but then we're taking the kid and making him a priest and a policeman

Kid: and a faggot

Guy with the whip: *chuckle* yeah this fella has a point

Policeman: we killed all of them fags already

Priest with a face totally blank: yes you did

Dad and the guy with the whip: yeah you did

Kid: can I just recite the bible until you're done?

Priest: you know bible by heart?

Dad: don't you?

Priest: don't whip them, they're christians

Policeman: maybe ask them to prove it

Priest: I gotta believe their word

Dad: I also never got a speeding ticket because I was speeding

Policeman: why do you have four unpaid tickets then

Dad: the speedometer was broken

Priest: five minutes with the kid and I will erase them and get you a raise

Kid: no

Dad: you're kidding, right?

Priest: yeah, hah-hah, that was a joke

Policeman: hah hah

The guy with the whip: so, no flogging today?

Priest: nah, let's get outta here

Policeman: so, about those tickets...

Dad: what tickets

Kid: Dad

Priest: so, I, uh, will take a kid outside and you guys talk about those tickets

Kid: Dad

Dad: I want a raise

Priest: you'll get a raise

Kid: Dad

Guy with a whip: Dad

Dad: We need this money

Priest: yeah, yeah, you need the money alright

Policeman: so about those tickets

Dad: let's hear it when the priest is back, okay?

Policeman: I think I'll go, uh, pray with them

Dad: can I go too?

Guy with the whip: I don't think it's a good idea

Dad: why?

Guy with the whip: it's forbidden

Dad: what

Guy with the whip: watching children pornography

Dad: oh

Kid: Dad!

Dad: keep it real, kiddo!

Guy with the whip: first time, huh?

Dad: yeah, sort of

Guy with the whip: cool cool

Guy with the whip: so anyway what do you do for living?

Dad: I sell Barbie dolls

Guy with the whip: remember the time when you could play a game on that website?

Dad: now you can only play a game if you pay for it and see a gazillion of ads

Guy with the whip: weird, huh

Dad: it's the only way for us to earn more money that we could ever spend

Guy with the whip: yeah yeah

Dad: they're taking their time, huh?

Guy with the whip: it's called an investment

Dad: an investment?

Guy with the whip: yeah, they rape a child now, make sure it becomes scared and obsessed with police and church and eventually becomes one of them

Dad: whoa

Guy with the whip: or a faggot

Dad: we don't want that

Guy with the whip: it depends on the kid

Dad: yeah

Guy with the whip: I believe they're on a finish line now

Dad: how do you know?

Guy with the whip: the kid started praying for this to never happen again

Policeman: your tickets are now nonexistent

Priest: You get a raise

Kid: you're an ass

Dad: don't be vulgar, these men came here to help us

Guy with the whip: let's go. Take care

Dad: see ya

Policeman: vote republican

Priest: see you in church, kid

Dad: do you want a doll?

Kid: i want to die

Dad: don't be funny

Kid: do you want to play a game online?

Dad: no time, I have to go to church earlier today

Kid: okay

Dad: I, uh, have to meet someone there

Kid: who

Dad: Jesus

Kid: what

Dad: also I want to apply for a job there

Kid: what

Dad: I think I'd be a great priest

Kid: what

Dad: this profession is the future

Kid: what

Dad: or flogging

Kid: why don't you say that police are the good guys now

Dad: we're rich, they're on our side now

Kid: what

Dad: we're white, rich and friends with the priest now

Kid: we're not friends

Dad: we're important people now

Kid: I wish you never told me about that game

Dad: what game

Kid:

The concepts of NSFW is being cleared of the Internet under the false pretense of children’s safety when it’s really about the people in power sanitising for advertisers and pushing evangelical narratives AND that not enough is done to keep legitimately harmful content off of spaces that minors have access to are ideas that can coexist

[jakelandryshorts]

Accidental Revenge

“Dude! Look how fuckin’ small you got! Shit! Who’s the little faggot now? Huh? Huh?” Nathan poked at me sides as he taunted me. I’d have been more mad if I weren’t so turned on. His massive body was nothing that I could do anything against. But the emotions that were running through me conflicted. I just took it. “Oh right. You don’t know,” he laughed.

“Know what?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he glared. “Don’t worry about it.” He plopped down onto the couch and stripped off the sleeveless shirt he was wearing. “Sweet,” he chuckled again. “To think Chloe ever dated you…” Another glare was shot towards me. Then he flexed. I felt my face turn red as my hands covered up my hardening dick. Nathan always found it hilarious. “Bitch,” he laughed as he stood up. “Well, I’m going to get ready for my date tonight. So you better not be here when I come back. Got it?”

“G-got it!” I stammered.

“Good,” he said. As Nathan passed me, he gave me a firm slap to my back. I staggered, drawing another laugh from him. ‘God, no wonder you were like this,’ he muttered to himself. The widening grin on his face showed just how much he enjoyed it as well.

I stood there quietly as I watched him go into his room and then start the shower. A deep breath slowly escaped as I relaxed again. One of my hands started to massage my dick. “Stop it…” I scolded it. Still, I couldn’t help but want to continue. Just feeling his rough hand nearly knock me over turned me on. It lead to so many other thoughts of what he could do. A deep sensual moan quickly followed as I plunged onto couch.

My body twisted and turned as I thought about it more and more. But then my hand hit something. “Hmmm?” I was taken out of the fantasy for just a moment as I realized it was his phone. ‘He left his phone out here!?’ My giddiness doubled over as I listened for the shower in the other room. He’d be indisposed for at least 20 or 30 minutes. I couldn’t believe it. Finally, I’d be able to do what I’d been planning.

Over the last month I’d been watching him enter his password. With that I could get to see his nudes! I clutched the phone tightly as I squirmed on the couch. I hadn’t even seen anything yet, but my excitement was making it so hard to do anything else. “Calm down… Calm down…” I breathed. The smile on my face wouldn’t go down as I typed in the four-digit code.

“I’m in!” I squealed. I quickly went to his gallery. And there they were. Picture after picture that he’d sent to different girls of him flexing. His massive cock jutted out in front of him, hard as a rock. Each pose showed off his athletic build perfectly. He’d been working out for more than just sports lately giving more definition to his arms and chest.

I continued to squirm. This time on my back as I tried to figure out a way to save the photos. I went back to the home screen. Looking around it was the same normal apps, except for one. ‘Chronivac?’ I wondered. I’d never heard of something like that. With how normal the rest of his phone was the app really looked out of place. And more I stared, the more compelled I was to click.

My desires gave in and I watched it open. But I was only met with confusion. Grayed out letters spelled out, ‘type what you would like to change.’ Even stranger were all the things above it. ‘I’m built like a bodybuilder.’ ‘Women want to fuck me whenever they see me.’ ‘I can have sex all the time.’ ‘Brad Channing’s a little bitch who loves it when I make fun of him.’ ‘Brad Channing gets turned on when I make fun of him.’

Statements like that continued. I was a bit confused. All of that was true, but I didn’t understand why he’d write it in his phone. If this was some kind of diary, writing, ‘I have a massive cock even guys want to get fucked by,’ seemed a bit unnecessary. After seeing his nudes, I couldn’t exactly disagree with the statement though.

And then I looked at the grayed-out words again. ‘Type what you would like to change…’ Butterflies filled my stomach. Something like this couldn’t be real. But I started to type, ‘I send my nudes to Brad Channing.’ I quickly went to my phone. However, all I found were my own nudes. “What the hell?!” I’d never taken anything like that. But there was my phone full of nude pictures of myself. I’d apparently been trying to emulate Nathan.

My attention quickly went back to Nathan’s phone. ‘Nathan Beckett loves sending me his nudes,’ I typed instead. Butterflies entered my stomach again as I opened up my own phone. I went to my text messages and there was Nathan’s name at the top. I opened it up and dozens upon dozens of photos of him were there. Each one followed by a snarky statement. Not that I cared. But there they were. I squeezed my phone.

My excitement wouldn’t get the better of me. I needed to focus. This thing actually worked! I needed to use it quickly. The shower had turned off. ‘Nathan Beckett loves walking around the apartment completely naked when he’s alone or with me.’ ‘Nathan Beckett loves it when I watch him work out.’ ‘Nathan Beckett only makes fun of me because he wants me to fuck him.’

The door to the bathroom was opening. ‘Nathan Beckett leaves his phone in the living room all the time.’ I typed and tossed the phone onto the other side of the couch. He stepped out toweling off his hair. Below that? Nothing. He was completely nude. His cock swung from side to side as he dripped water on the floor.

“Hey bitch,” he said. His cock jumped with joy as he said it. A bit of confusion washed over his face but it quickly disappeared. “You see my phone?”

“Uhhh…” I tried to act nonchalant. But then looked over to the other side of the couch. “There?” I reached for it but Nathan was far faster.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he glared down at me. His arms crossed against his massive chest. “You trying to get more pics out of me? I give enough to a fucking gay loser like you. Yet you want more? God damn your needy.”

With each insult I watched as his cock bounced. Blood flowed into it, quickly hardening it. I couldn’t believe it actually worked. He was really getting turned on. “I—”

Before I realized it, he’d grabbed my face and shoved it into his it. “There you go you needy little bitch. Bet you’re not used to feeling a like a real man. Really soak it in.”

My body struggled at first, but then relaxed as I sniffed the slightly sweaty but smooth skin. Even after his shower, a bit of the musk stayed. I stayed cautious. This was so different. I wasn’t used to it. But slowly my hands started to reach out for him. To run up against his firm pecs. I gripped them.

“Hey!” he shoved me down onto the couch. “I never said you could touch.” As I hit the couch I watched his cock throb with excitement. He continued to shove me down into it, then straddled my body. I felt my own harden. The tension held. “Dude you’re so fucking weak. Just look at me compared to you,” he flexed his thick arms and gave it a slap. “You can’t fucking handle something like this.”

That’s when he sat down. I let out a hearty grunt as I gripped the couch. My dick slid into him like it’d done it a hundred times before. Almost like his ass was meant to fit it perfectly. He let out a bit of a grunt as well but held his tough guy act, only letting a bit of wincing on his face. But he didn’t stop. He kept bouncing slightly, sliding it in and out of him.

“That’s it bitch. God this turns you so on like the little queer you are. I can’t believe I used to be intimidated by you. You’re so weak… Huff. And—Small… And--… Sexy,” His hands gripped my shoulders as he finished all over my chest. I couldn’t help it either. Hearing him say ‘sexy’ was better than I could have imagined. After so many insults to hear that he couldn’t help himself around me, was too much and I finished inside him. “Damn it…” he cursed as he climbed off me. “Now I gotta go clean up. Chloe’s gonna be mad if she has to wait.”

Nathan stood up and walked back to the bathroom. “Fucking loser,” he cursed as he closed the door. “Damn it…” I couldn’t help but notice his dick rise to attention again. And looking over at the other end of the couch sat his phone.

more stories over on my wordpress

[abused-sides]

Could you write maybe a short angst/fluff thing about them discovering each others triggers and talking about them and how to avoid them? (My family and the people around me dont really respect mine so this is kinda just a request for me to project onto 😅 you absolutely dont have to tho)

fuck your family we’re your family now 

Trigger warning: This au follows the sides as abuse survivors. 

Other tws for: Yelling, arguments, passive aggression, non-censored homophobic slur used to talk about oneself, sl*t used in a joking and literally not at all degrading/mean manner also non-censored, drama violence (like reading a script), flashback/panic attack, ableism off screen, throw up mention, allergies mention, glass breaking, lmk if i missed anything! <3 

enjoy the hurt/comfort lol it took me like an hour and a half xD 

Edit: love when it just doesn’t fucking add the read more :) sorry about that guys

Virgil: 

-While Virgil was helping Patton fix dinner, Roman and Logan started an argument at the table. Logan was upset that Roman hadn’t finished his chore list for the week, but Roman insisted that he would finish it and he just needed some extra time to work on commissions. 

-Logan: We all have jobs, Roman, we still manage to get our chores done! This place is a mess half of the time and that’s largely due to you neglecting the list. 

-Roman: Why are you acting like some weekly chore list is worth more than our jobs? Isn’t that why we moved in together, to pursue our passions?

-Logan: How are we meant to do that when we’re living in a mess? 

-Roman: You’re completely overreacting. 

-Logan: Fine. You’re right. I’ll just do everything. Sorry to be a bother. 

-Virgil had slipped away from his job chopping vegetables to glance at the missing items on Roman’s chore list. The first one read sweep and mop the floors. He silently took the broom from its spot between the fridge and the counter, and worked on piling up the mess on the floor. 

-Logan was about to storm out of the room, when he noticed Virgil. 

-Logan: Are you okay? 

-Virgil: Hm? I’m fine. 

-Logan: You’re shaking. 

-Patton: Of course he’s shaking. Would it kill you two to be nicer to each other? 

-Realization dawned on Logan’s face. He bit his lip as he thought, and then turned to Roman. 

-Logan: I don’t like it when you neglect your chore list. I understand you’re busy, but it makes life harder for all of us. 

-Virgil stopped sweeping, looking at Logan in confusion. 

-Roman was just as confused. 

-Roman: I... Yeah, I got that, weirdo. 

-Logan: I want to make sure there’s no confusion. Do you have anything you want to say to me? 

-Roman’s eyes flicked between Virgil- Shaking, gripping the broom, staring at them with wide eyes -and nodded slowly. 

-Roman: Some weeks I can’t complete the entire chore list. Finishing my commissions are more important. The kitchen can be cleaned later. 

-Patton: And I can help! I don’t mind chipping in on chores. 

-Logan: I can live with that. I’m going to my room. 

-After that, there was an unspoken agreement to state things plainly, especially when fighting, and to try and keep the yelling at a minimum. Janus and Remus may have appreciated it even more than Virgil did. 

Patton: 

-Janus and Remus were visiting for a movie night, and they were still setting up. Patton fussed over the organization of the snack table, Roman over who sat where. 

-Remus: I’ve got my seat! 

-He flopped into Janus’ lap, who grunted. 

-Janus: Jesus Christ, babe. 

-Logan: You two are so... 

-Remus: What? Sexy? 

-Logan: No... Not the word I’m looking for. 

-Remus: A cute couple of boys? 

-Logan fought not to laugh. 

-Logan: No... Not that, either. 

-Remus: Just an attractive pair of young faggots? 

-While Logan, Roman, and Janus burst out laughing, Patton choked. He covered his mouth and tried to recover, but the others laughing quickly died down. 

-Virgil: *softly* Patton? Are you okay? 

-Patton: I’m fine. 

-He forced a weak smile. 

-Patton: Are we ready for the movie? 

-Remus: You look like you’re going to be sick. Is it something I said? 

-Patton: It’s not a big deal-

-Janus: Bullshit. Tell us. What, Remus calling us faggots? It’s okay to laugh, we know we are. 

-Patton didn’t take the bait, shakily sitting down. Janus’ grin faded. 

-Patton: I just... I don’t like that word too much, I guess. It, um... 

-Virgil: *quietly* Bad memories? 

-Patton nodded quickly. 

-Remus: Jesus! You should have told me! I’m sorry, Pat-A-Cake! I guess Janny and I have just been calling each other that for so long, I forgot it bothers some people. 

-Janus: Yeah, um, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have encouraged it, it wasn’t very-

-Patton: Guys, stop. You don’t have to apologize, okay? I’m okay. 

-Roman opened his arms with a soft smile. Patton sighed happily and crawled into his lap, his back against Roman’s chest. 

-Remus: So what can I say instead? Slu-

-Janus slapped his hand over Remus’ mouth. 

-Janus: Why don’t you just try behaving? 

-Patton: *laughing* No, I’m actually pretty used to that one. Roman can’t see a cute boy without calling himself that. 

-Remus: Perfect. Was that the word you were looking for, Logan? Just a bunch of cute little sluts? 

-Logan slapped his hand to his forehead. 

-Logan: *dryly* That’s exactly the word I was looking for. 

Logan: 

-The morning was a busy one. Logan had three projects due that he’d somehow neglected, Roman had two auditions, Patton had an increase in orders to pass out, and Virgil had an interview for an apprenticeship at a tattoo parlour. 

-Everyone raced around the kitchen-- No time for a family breakfast today. Logan banged at the coffee maker as it went painfully slow, Patton trying to carefully package a box of cupcakes. Roman slid between the two of them to get to the fridge, nearly tripping over Logan’s feet. 

-Roman: Hey, watch out! Tryna get out the door here! 

-Logan stiffened. 

-Logan: Apologies, Roman. 

-Roman looked at him in confusion at the formal tone, but shook it off and grabbed his water bottle so he could race out the door. Soon, the apartment was empty, everyone left to their respective tasks. 

-Logan didn’t come home for a while. 

-Patton left a sticky note on Logan’s door to say his dinner was packed up in the fridge for whenever he wanted it, but couldn’t stop feeling worried. He stayed up until 4am on the couch watching cartoons, eventually passing out. 

-When Logan still wasn’t home in the morning, Roman carried Patton to bed and stormed across the hall. 

-He rapped loudly on the door. It swung open a moment later, revealing the tired, angry face of his brother. 

-Remus: What do you want? 

-Roman: Is Logan with you? 

-Remus: Well, I know where he’s not. 

-Roman: I’m not fucking around. Just tell me-- We’re worried about him!

-Remus arched an eyebrow, a sick grin spreading across his face. 

-Remus: *whispering* Are you now? 

-Roman: What’s going on? Is he okay? 

-Remus: *voice still hushed* You would think out of all of us, you and I would know better. You and I would know exactly what to say to make someone feel worthless. The difference is, it’s usually me who says it, and you who avoids it. 

-Roman: I don’t get it. What did I say? Did I hurt him? 

-Remus: He feels like a waste of space in his own home! 

-Roman pushed past Remus into the apartment, finding Logan asleep, Janus curled around him protectively. 

-Roman: Logan! 

-Logan and Janus both startled awake. Janus glared and hissed. 

-Roman: My God, why didn’t you tell anyone you weren’t coming home? We were so worried! Patton stayed up all night waiting for you! Why was your phone off?! 

-Logan frowned in confusion and sat up, self-consciously scooting away from Janus and brushing his arm away. He found his glasses and put them on. 

-Logan: What? I just figured, the apartment seemed cramped lately, people were getting cranky. Janus and Remus offered to let me stay before in the past, so I thought I might give you all some space. 

-Roman shook his head wildly. 

-Roman: Why would you think that? You scared us! Dinner’s still waiting for you in the fridge, and- and you could have at least called us to let us know! 

-Logan fought not to shrink in on himself. He was silent for a while, before he said, quietly, confused, “I thought this was what you wanted.” 

-Roman: No. Where did you-

-Roman paused. 

-He felt so stupid. 

-Roman: No- God, Logan, I’m so... I’m so sorry. I didn’t- I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry I ran into you, and then... 

-Janus and Remus looked at Logan, waiting his response before reacting. 

-Logan: It’s okay, Roman. I guess I just got confused. Has Patton started on breakfast yet?

-Roman: No, he’s asleep. 

-Logan: I’ll make breakfast. I’ll be there in five minutes.

-Remus gripped Roman’s shoulder. 

-Remus: I’ll show you out. 

Roman: 

-Roman and Remus were in the main four’s living room, scripts in each hand. Roman had asked Remus’ help in reading lines for a scene, and they had both gotten way too into it. 

-Patton: Be careful with my throw pills! My sister stitched those! 

-Remus cackled maniaclly from his position on the couch, a plastic sword held at Roman’s throat. 

-Remus: Now what did I tell you?! 

-Roman, on his knees on the carpet, faked a pained groan. 

-Roman: It’s not true. 

-Remus: Still thinking that, huh? What do I have to do to get it through your head? Beat it out of you?! 

-Remus lurched forward with his fake sword. 

-Roman’s heart stopped, the blood drained from his face, and he threw himself away from Remus’ advance. He fell back, nearly knocking his head against the coffee table they moved, crossing his arms in front of his face. 

-Remus: Roman? *nervous laughter* Come on, I know I’m not that good an actor. Are you... Okay? 

-Roman shakily lowered his arms, staring at Remus with wide, paranoid eyes. He gasped for breath. 

-Patton jumped up from the kitchen table and raced into the living room. Remus caught Patton by the waist as Roman flinched and covered his face again. 

-Patton’s eyes welled up. 

-Patton: Roman? Roman, what’s wrong? 

-Remus: *mumbling* Go sit on the couch, I’ll wave you over. 

-Patton didn’t want to, but he listened. Remus sat on the ground, plenty of space between him and his brother. 

-Remus: Ro? I need you to look around, tell me five things you can see. 

-Roman: Stained- Stained glass. 

-Remus: There’s no stained glass here. Look around, harder. What do you see?

-Roman: Your stupid mustache. 

-Remus: *laughing* Yeah, that’s good. What else? 

-Roman: Um... Um- The- The carpet. 

-Remus: What colour is the carpet? 

-Roman: Green- No. No, it’s beige. 

-Roman ran his fingers along the beige carpet, trying to control his breathing. 

-Remus: That’s good. Three more. 

-Roman: I see Patton. Um, his glasses. There’s flour on his hands. Does that count? 

-Remus: Sounds like five to me. Four things you can touch? 

-Roman: Carpet. Um, my shirt. The table. Y-You? 

-Remus scooted forward slowly and opened his arms for Roman to curl into. Remus held him tight, his chin rested on Roman’s shoulder. 

-Remus: Tell me three things you can hear. 

-Roman: Your heartbeat. Patton crying- Patton, please, love, I’m okay. 

-Patton: I- I know. I’m sorry. I just- I know. 

-Roman: Patton’s voice. 

-Remus: Two things you can smell. 

-Roman: That awful deodorant you use. And Janus, for some reason. 

-Remus: One thing you can taste? 

-Roman: Salt. 

-Remus: You back in the present now? 

-Roman buried his face in Remus’ chest. Remus held him tightly and waved Patton over. Patton staggered to his feet and Remus gently transferred Roman to curl in Patton’s lap, who cooed in his ear and kissed over the side of his face. Remus quietly slipped out of the apartment. 

Remus: 

-Janus: Remus? What’s wrong? 

-Remus didn’t answer, slamming the door shut and headed straight for the bathroom. The water turned on a moment later. 

-Janus looked through Remus’ drawer for his meds and counted them carefully. He’d taken his dosages. He settled against the headboard and waited for Remus to finish showering. 

-About an hour later, Janus was startled awake to a wet pressure on his chest. 

-Janus: *mumbling* Ew. You couldn’t have dried off? Got dressed? 

-Remus looked up at him with wide, teary eyes. Janus raked his fingers through Remus’ hair and kissed his forehead. 

-Remus: It doesn’t matter. 

-Janus: It does. Was it that bitch again? 

-Remus: She is a bitch. 

-Janus: Exactly. What’d she say this time? 

-Remus settled back against Janus’ chest. 

-Remus: *mumbling* It doesn’t matter. She’s right. 

-Janus: I doubt she’s ever been right about anything in her life, especially my Remus. So what did she say? I need to prove her wrong. Proving people wrong is kind of my thing. 

-Remus let out a breathy laugh. 

-Remus: I got upset again. A family told her about their child’s allergy, and she didn’t tell me. I made the dish normally and the girl threw up and had to go home. I started yelling, because I mean I was freaking out, what if I’d killed her? If it was a more severe allergy, she- she couldn’t have been older than seven, it could have killed her just being on the table, and- and- 

-Janus: Hey, baby, take a second to breathe. Just breathe with me for a second, okay? 

-Janus took in a deep breath, his chest raising and lowering Remus gently as he followed the pattern. 

-Remus: She told me to stop worrying about it, that I was delusional. She asked if I remembered my meds. She said I was overreacting. 

-Janus’ hold on Remus tightened as hatred boiled in his stomach. 

-Janus: I’m going to get that bitch fired. 

-Remus: Janus, no, I probably-

-Janus: You did not overreact. She didn’t tell you, and not only could that have killed the girl, it could have ruined your life. We can’t afford a good lawyer, they would pin it on you and shove it under the rug. And you’re not fucking delusional. 

-Remus: I do... Have... Delusions...?

-Janus: That doesn’t have anything to do with this! 

-Remus laughed weakly. 

-Janus: Yeah, you have delusions that the girl on the fifth floor runs a meth lab, and that someone lives in the basement, but that- That was not a delusion. She should be put in jail!

-Remus raised his head and kissed Janus softly. He nuzzled into his neck, and Janus hugged him tight. 

-Janus: I checked your meds. You’re completely caught up. 

-Remus: I know. 

-Janus: And you’re not crazy. 

-Remus: I know. 

-Janus: And I love you. 

-Remus: I know. I love you, too. 

Janus: 

-Janus had snuck into the other apartment to see if Patton had any leftovers from his last orders. The others were asleep, but he knew they wouldn’t care. Patton left notes on the things no one could touch. 

-He found a small plate of assorted cookies with no warning, and settled at the table to eat a few. 

-On his way to put them back, someone on the floor above them screamed a string of curses, and a door slammed. Janus flinched, his shaky hands loosing hold of the plate. His heart dropped as it shattered along the tile. 

-He couldn’t breathe. 

-Clean it up and leave, go, now! 

-Hurry up! Before someone finds you! 

-Don’t worry about clean up, just go! You weren’t here! 

-Logan: Janus? 

-Janus’ head snapped up. He spoke before thinking about the words coming out. 

-Janus: I just got here. I don’t know what happened, I was about to clean it up. It wasn’t me. 

-Logan raised an eyebrow, eyes sleepy. 

-Logan: *flatly* Really? 

-That was the worst lie you’ve ever told in your life. 

-His stomach coiled in embarrassment. He forced up a smile. 

-Janus: I know what it looks like. But I assure you, it wasn’t me. 

-He reached for the broom, but Logan carefully stepped over the glass and grabbed Janus’ wrist. 

-Logan: Janus-

-Janus: *gasping* I’m sorry! It wasn’t me! 

-Logan: Janus. I’m not angry! What’s the matter? 

-Janus hesitantly met Logan’s eyes. Logan’s soft, worried eyes. 

-Logan: You know I would never hurt you. 

-Janus: Of course. 

-Logan: I’ll clean this up. Do you... Want to stay over? 

-Janus’ heart stuttered. 

-Janus: If you want me to, I suppose I could stomach it. 

-Logan smiled a little. 

-Logan: You suppose? 

-Janus: I suppose. 

-Logan: I’ll meet you in there. 

-Janus’ heartrate had slowly gone back to normal as he laid in Logan’s bed. A few minutes later, Logan slipped in behind him, hesitantly resting a hand on Janus’ hip. 

-Janus rolled over and pulled Logan into his arms. Logan sighed in content, nuzzling into his chest. 

-Janus: I didn’t break the plate. 

-Logan: It doesn’t matter who broke the plate. 

[hold-our-destiny]

Backhand Slap

@badthingshappenbingo​ Promp: Backhand Slap. Read it here on ao3

This is a Peter/Flash fic :)

Warnings: violence, homophobic language, talks of death.

_____________

Peter and Flash’s relationship was… complicated.

Flash wasn’t out at school yet, so no one there knew about their relationship (other than Ned and MJ). Flash’s goons were still making Peter’s life hell, but Flash was getting them to back off somewhat.

It was okay. It didn’t bother Peter.

Until they found out.

____________

Peter flinched as someone slammed their fist against the locker next to his, mere inches from his face. He closed his locker and turned around to see Flash’s band of goons cornering him, Flash standing behind them with a mournful expression. Peter braced himself as a fist slammed into his stomach.

He doubled over, dropping his books in the process. Everyone was laughing around him, he didn’t dare look up, letting his gaze rest on the floor as he collected himself.

“Awww you gunna cry about it, penis?” Peter chuckled.

“‘S that all you got? I thought you’d be stronger. Pretty pathetic if you ask-” Peter choked as a boot landed a hit on his stomach again, followed by a punch to the jaw.

Thomas, the self proclaimed ‘leader’ of the group crouched down and pulled peter’s hair so he was looking at him. He chuckled lowly.

“You’re calling me pathetic? You’re not serious, right?” He paused, turning his gaze up to the rest of the group.

He stood up again, “Hey, Flash. You gunna get in on this?” There was a sick tone to his voice, Peter couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not.

Peter could tell Flash refused, his gaze still resting on the floor, “Why not? I thought you hated this guy. It’s like you’re against us all of a sudden.  You pitying this faggot?”

Peter flinched, and he knew the leader could see it, he curled more in on himself.

“Come on, you gotta hate him by now. He’s such a fucking pansy, walking around school like he owns the place. He needs to learn where he stands,” He walked over to Peter yet again, crouching down, “Cause you’re just a pathetic little shit. No wonder your whole family died, I would too if i was related to you-”

“Stop!” The taunts stopped as Thomas turned to see Flash standing a few feet away from him, inside the circle the group had created in the hallway. Peter looked up, too, tears streaming down his face, from the pain or the cruel words, Flash didn’t know.

“What did you say?” There was a sneer in Thomas’s voice, seemingly towering over flash where he stood, even though their height difference was scarce.

“I said stop. I’ll do it.” Thomas looked taken aback, as he processed Flash’s words.

“Oh yeah? You’re gunna hit this fucking fag? You’re gonna do that, huh?” He taunted, moving closer to Peter.

“Okay, just back off,” Thomas lifted his hands in a ‘surrender’ gesture, moving away from the teenager, still on the floor.

Flash moved towards Peter, crouching down and lifting his head so they made eye contact. Flash’s eyes betrayed his expression. Peter saw all the guilt he possessed, he knew Flash didn’t want to do this, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Flash faltered as Thomas spoke up once again, “Go on, put him in his place. You know what to do, you’ve been doing it for years for fuck’s-” 

Flash held up a hand, silencing Thomas. His expression didn’t falter when Peter flinched, and Peter didn’t know if that was good or bad.

Flash leaned down to whisper in Peter’s ear, still loud enough for the others to hear.

“You’re so fucking pathetic, Parker. You know that, don’t you. No one wants to even get close to you, sared you’ll infect them with your fucking disiease.” He spat, tears were still streaming down Peter’s face, “Your family had to die to get away from you. ‘Cause you’re a disgusting fucking faggot”

Peter flinched at the last word, looking up as Flash stood up. He looked towards Thomas before lowering his gaze back to his boyfriend.

Peter didn’t even see the slap coming, as it jolted his head to the side, his body following. 

He lay there on the floor for a while, listening to the sniggers of ‘pathetic’ and ‘weak’ as they retreated, before he stood up. He slowly collected his discarded books from the floor, realising it was more than half way through fourth period. 

As he walked out the school gates, he pulled out his phone, dialing the number that’s burned into his memory, tears fogging up his view of the screen.

“Hey pete, what’s up? Shouldn’t you be in school?” at the sound of his mentor’s voice, Peter started sobbing, the past half hour’s events catching up to him, “Kid? What’s wrong?”

“Can you come pick me up?” Peter managed to choke out.

_____________

Tony didn’t let Flash into the tower at first, but when he saw the distraught teenager, he knew he should hear his side of the story, he could barely make out the words Peter sobbed out on their way back from the school.

Obviously, when Tony saw his kid covered in developing bruises, sobbing his heart out, he was ready to kill someone.  Peter could barely get an explanation out, but from what Tony could make out, Flash was the cause of it. It had only been a year since Tony had taken Peter in, a few months since Peter told him he had a boyfriend, and Tony hadn’t been happy when he found out it was Flash Thompson of all people.

And there he stood, in the middle of the penthouse, Flash Thompson standing in front of him, tears still running down his face, trying to explain what happened. 

“I didn’t want to but- but i knew that they’d hurt peter anway. If I- If i did it myself, I- he wouldn’t be hurt as bad.” 

“And that’s an excuse for hurting my kid? You think that’s okay?” Tony was seething.

“No Sir! I know there’s no excuse for what i did- what i said, but i just wanted to apologise… To Peter,” Tony took a breath, trying to get his thoughts in order.

This guy hurt his kid, he couldn’t let him see him. But that wasn’t for him to decide, was it?

“Okay kid, I’ll go geth Peter. You stay here, okay?” Flash nodded hurriedly, wiping his tears off his face, seemingly trying to make himself look slightly more put together.

Tony walked down the hall towards Peter’s room, cracking the door open slightly and identifying the bundle of blankets on the bed as the teenager.

“Hey, kiddo. You okay?” Peter looked up at him, squinting through the light and nodding his head slightly.

“Do you wanna come out from under there?” Peter nodded and sat up, wincing slightly before swinging his feet over the side of the bed. Tony walked over to him, sitting down next to him and greeting him with a side hug.

Tony spotted the bag of peas on Peter’s nightstand and sighed, “you know you’re supposed to keep those on your eye, kiddo.”

“Melted” Peter answered simply, evidently not up to talking, Tony nodded.

“Flash is here, he said he wanted to apologise.” Peter’s eyes snapped up to Tony’s.

“He’s here?” 

“Yeah, Pete, he’s just down the hall. Do you want me to-” Tony watched, startled, as Peter ran out of the room, before getting up and following him down the hall.

He entered the room to see the two teenagers hugging, Peter sobbing into the other’s chest, and silent tears falling down Flash’s cheeks.

“It’s okay, I’m okay…” Flash was murmuring, rocking them both slightly.

“I thought they were gonna hurt you” Peter sobbed.

“Me? They would’ve hurt you worse. Fuck, i hurt you-”

“It’s okay, Flash, I’m okay,” Peter cut him off, turning his head up to look into Flash’s eyes.

Flash gasped, bringing a hand up to cup his boyfriend’s jaw, “You’re bruised-”

“I’m okay-”

“No you’re not, i let them hurt you-”

“You didn’t let them-”

“I didn’t want them to hurt you more-”

“Flash, i know-”

“No you don’t.” Peter’s mouth snapped shut, worry gleaming in his eyes, “I said those things- horrible things to you. It took you months to believe i wasn’t going to hurt you again but i did-” Peter opened his mouth to interject but flash met his eyes, let him see the guilt shining in them, “They were going to beat you, Peter. They were going to hurt you and i tried to stop them but i just hurt you more-”

“They were going to hurt you if you didn’t, I couldn’t let that happen,”

Peter buried his head in Flash’s chest again, “They hurt me more than you did- no, listen to me- Yeah, you said some bad things but i know you didn’t mean them, you would never say those things to me. You know I trust you.”

Flash nodded, planting a kiss on Peter’s hairline, burying his head in the mop of curls he loved so dearly.

“Now can we please watch star wars, you’re not cancelling our weekly movie night for this.”

___________

Tag list: 

@baloobird​ @dreamingformuses​ @romeoandjulietyouwish​ @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars​ @just-the-daydreamer​ @verdonafrost​ @imalivebecauseirondad​ @fallenstar07​ @bestofirondadfics​ @iron-loyalty​ @asthmaticpansexual​@whatschooldoesntteachyou @serious-problems​

[passivenovember]

The Skull on the Shelf that Bares My Name

This is my first time posting a fic on tumblr, so. Here goes nothing

__

Billy was like an oil painting that had been around for a thousand years. Pretty in the right lighting, hideous in the swell of nightfall. All rough edges and smeared color, full of broken things inside that cut through the air and rattled around like shattered glass whenever anyone got too close, bristling and blowing with the 75mph wind that tumbled through his soul.

Billy thought it was breathtaking.

Thought he was breathtaking with split knuckles and broken ribs. Matted hair tangled with dried blood. Busted lips painted red, color spilling down his chin when he smiled too wide at his reflection.

He liked it messy and hideous.

Did everything he could to destroy the precious image, the golden boy.

He had always been pretty. Like a girl; sparkly eyes and curly hair. Neil had always old him someone would come along and color outside the lines, scribble over the image his mother had left behind and Billy had always been so breakable in the face of adversity.

Flinching against hurt and agony until it became commonplace. Until he grew tired of gluing himself back together every night under the light of the moon.

His face was beautiful like a sculpture carved from stone, or a window into the face of his mother and her mother, but.

Billy himself was like a cardboard box full of glass.

The Billy on the inside was sharp.

And crude.

And violent, when the mood struck him. Ask anyone and they'd tell you; guy's like a train barreling through an apartment building.

And he was.

A glorious, terrible, beautiful, ravenous storm brewing in the open sea.

Billy hadn't known girls could be hazardous.

He knew they were soft. Pretty, delicate and sometimes tough when they had to be. His mother had been like that--brazen. Flighty and aggressive in a different way, like when the sun emerges from the clouds and shines too brightly.

She was warm and loving.

Perfect in her femininity. Billy looked nothing like his mother because she dressed like a wood nymph, all sheer fabric and dresses that defied gravity. Her hair was blonde and curly, always pinned back with clips and beautiful scarves and Billy wanted desperately to look like her.

Film star beauty.

Painted lips, soft hands. When she threw herself off the bridge he brushed his fingertips over the fabric in her closet and tried to imagine what it would feel like to have the world at your feet.

She was so beautiful it felt like swallowing tar.

Hot and boiling on a summer's day.

Billy pulled something from the rack, ran his fingers around the liquid soft fabric of his mother's favorite dress; the white one with the pearl neckline that felt like water settling around his shoulders. They said she was going to be buried in this one and Billy hated it.

Hated that something so beautiful, so delicate would rot away in the cool, damp earth.

He sat in front of her vanity and watched the light twinkle against the jewels that littered the countertop; rubies, emeralds, opal stone cut into neat shapes. When he was a child Billy's mother would let him play with her rings because they made good skipping stones in the pond out back.

We'll always find more, his mother would say, and it was true. Neil spared no expense in making her shine like a million stars as if she didn't already steal the air from every room.

Pocket it in her velvet handbags for safekeeping.

Billy put a ring on each finger and studied his reflection in the pristine vintage mirror.

He looked like a rat.

A rat in a pretty dress, playing pretend for a day.

The front door slammed open and Billy put the dress back on the hanger.

The girl on the T.V. wasn't like his mother at all.

Not soft or feminine, but smoldering. Alight with power and freedom as she strutted around the stage. She looked like her eyes were swimming in water; thick black makeup smudged around green orbs, hair messy and tangled, legs littered bruises that peaked through the holes in her stockings as the lights threw her into disarray.

Slut kiss girls won't you promise her smack

is she ugly on the inside

is she ugly from the back...

The woman was a disaster packaged in something almost pretty but not quite. Like a beauty queen moments after winning the crown fair and square, tear stained makeup and fleeting promises of eternal beauty. She flung herself around the stage, dress ripped to shreds as the hands of the audience tried to tear away pieces of her flesh.

Her fingers were bruised and bloody as she wailed away on the guitar. Nails cracked and worn with the weight of her vengeance. With each press of her lips against the microphone the color oozed outside the lines of her mouth until she looked like a living dead girl and Billy.

He had never seen someone so beautiful.

The first time he put on a dress for real it had been an homage to his silver screen queen.

Black shift dress. Baby doll sleeves. Torn stockings and barrettes in his hair.

Kinderwhore they called it.

Billy stood awkwardly in front of the mirror in the bathroom and tried to make sense of the princess seam that came to an unsteady rest just above the line of his ribs. The clinging fabric felt nothing like the one his mother had been buried in it felt.

Dirty.

Sinful. Instantly cloaked in assumptions; he does heroin. He's a a bum and a loser in search of something the music can't give him so he searches for it in the sting of a needle. Billy bit down on his lips until they bled.

The color ran thick like maple syrup over the skin of his face, bringing out the blue in his eyes as it ran down his chin. As it caught in the stubble-rough landing of his jawline.

Billy looked like a mess.

Instantly, he was addicted. The first time Billy saw her he knew; that was his own image reflected back at him from the fifteen inch screen.

He began looking for inspiration wherever he could find it.

Debbie Harry, Freddie Mercury, Joan Jett, David Bowie. Women and men. Gods. His heroes. Feminine and masculine and dirty.

Courtney Love was always his favorite.

Filthy. Absolutely gut wrenching. Every time he saw her perform it was like his spleen was being ripped out and Billy couldn't escape the way he saw so much of himself reflected in her. All his rage and discomfort, his fury amplified by a million.

So he tried to emulate it.

Billy shopped around local thrift stores to find leopard print jackets and peasant tops. Dresses that hung wide or snuggled against the swell of his hips, kitten heels that brought much needed length to his hamburger legs and when he brought them home, always through the backdoor and stuffed carefully into a trash bag, Neil would raise an eyebrow.

Playing dress up?

Billy would grimace. Max is lookin' to be a Debbie Harry for Halloween. 'M helpin' her find the prefect dress.

And Neil drank like the answers sawm in a bottle of gin, so.

He would raise a fist at that. Never fully convinced but satiated, content with Billy playing the perfect older brother. His nose would bleed on the nights when Neil couldn't shake the impression that his son was a faggot but that was as far as it went.

Max never asked questions and Billy never told her the truth; that he felt more like himself when Courtney Love stared back at him in the mirror.

She sat with him sometimes.

Watched him apply his mother's lipstick, carefully at first and then all at once when the music carried him down.

Black lung coat and your little crown That's the crown that you get for falling down Hey baby, let me look in your eyes I see you standing in a weird red light...

"Why do you listen to this shit?" Max wrinkled her nose. Like a freckled bunny rabbit, it was kind of ridiculous. "She screams so fuckin' loud, you can't even understand what she's--"

"Mascara."

"Why? I know girls who would kill for your eyelashes."

Billy snapped his fingers. Max handed over the little black tube with a trademark eye roll, resting her chin in her hands as Billy repeated the process of careful application and then careless destruction of his hard work.

"Look prettier when you keep it nice," She snapped.

And Billy just chuckled. "I don't wanna look nice."

Max stared at him, popping a jaw breaker into her mouth. "Why not? Isn't that the whole point of makeup, to look pretty?"

Billy scrubbed at his eyes, warmth flooding his stomach again at the way the blue stood out against the black ring around his eyes. Like carefully crafted bruises, nothing like the ones Neil gave him. He shrugged his shoulders.

"That's so fuckin' predictable." He sat on the bed, pushing the hem of his skirt to roll the nylon against his legs.

"Using makeup and clothes to look worse, fuckin' idiotic." Max grumbled, but she watched with glowing eyes as Billy began scraping his nails down the length, creating runs in the delicate fabric.

"You gonna sit there yapping or are you gonna help?" He bitched.

Max slid to her knees in front of him, getting to work tearing holes into the stockings the way she knew Billy liked.

It was therapeutic, almost, having the help.

"I like when you do Blondie." She said after a while. "Fuck ton less work and Courtney makes you aggressive. She's got the energy of a horny dude, it's fucked up."

Billy smirked.

It was always more fun to play pretend with Max and her bitchy voice tethering him to the ground. He feared that, without it, he'd get lost in the feeling of freedom. Fly too close to the sun or something, catch on fire when he inevitably missed the tell-tale creek of the floorboards that meant Neil was listening in.

Max annoyed the hell out of him, but.

She kept him safe. Why, he didn't know.

Maybe she really was interested in the whole thing, electing to believe that every boy wanted to be a girl because the alternative meant her brother was sick in a way that couldn't be cured.

Billy stood, slipping on the kitten heels while Max held his hand.

He admired his handiwork.

"Gotta hand it you," Max whistled, low like a wolf. "Gets shittier every time we do it."

"Shut up, brat." But Billy was grinning.

For Max, that was a compliment.

Don't blush when I rip you open Hey baby, let me look in your eyes As you go off into your weird red light...

He ran his hands down the soft fabric, relishing the way the hem tickled the sensitive skin of his thighs.

He was pretty.

Not like his mother, not like Courtney Love, but.

Uniquely himself.

Max cocked her head to the side. "Don't you get tired of getting all dressed up with nowhere to go?"

Billy bristled. "Oh yeah? And where could I go in San Fran that wouldn't skin me on the spot for dressing like a bitch?"

"Castro." The gay area.

Billy felt his cheeks darken. He thought about it for a second; the lights, the thralls of people just letting the light in. Being themselves.

He shook his head, turning back to the mirror with a glare. "Yeah, okay. I'll get right on that."

"Cool, I'll just fetch my coat." Max turned to leave, chucking when Billy trapped her with an iron grip. "Relax, spaz. Neil would kill us both if he saw you looking like that."

And.

She was right. Billy had thought about it countless times before, what would happen if he threw a jacket over his baby doll dress and slipped out the back door one night. How the cool air would feel on the bare skin of his thighs, but. That's all it ever was. Just speculation.

Only dreams.

Knowing his luck he'd catch Neil in the hallway after his midnight piss and that'd be it. They'd never get the blood out of the wallpaper.

"Looks like we're stuck playing pretend." Billy patted absently at his spring of messy curls, refusing to let the sadness seep through but Max noticed immediately. Perceptive little shit.

She held up a finger, disappearing through the crack in the door. A second later she was back with her polaroid camera.

"Smile."

"No fuckin' way," Billy snarled. He could already imagine it; Neil digging through his sock drawer to find the pot he was always accusing Billy of smoking, only to stumble across something else.

Something worse.

Billy's ribs began to ache with the phantom memory of those fists planting like flower bulbs in fresh soil. He bruised easily, like an overripe peach.

Not everyone knew that about him, but. He did.

Max frowned. "Come on, we could send them to Courtney's P.O. box, I'm sure she'd be flattered."

Billy shook his head, tears swamping his vision as Max lifted the camera. The flash was blinding. Billy lunged for it, swearing as Max slipped past his grip. She took another picture.

And another.

And then another, until polaroid's littered the floor like fallen leaves on the dirty ground. Billy had tears rolling down his cheeks, ruining his makeup by the time she finally stopped. He held out his hand. "Max, just. Give that fuckin' thing to me. Now, we gotta burn this shit, alright? We gotta--"

But she wasn't listening, she was staring at the first image she had taken, when Billy was caught off guard. Max was absorbed in it, eyes glittering with something Billy had never seen before.

He snatched the picture from her hands and lifted it up to his face, brow wrinkled in disgust until--

This wasn't anything like staring in the mirror.

It felt more immediate, more real as Billy examined the image of a flawless stranger. Of a woman.

Of Courtney Love.

"Pretty," Max said.

And.

Yeah. He was.

They started taking pictures every time Billy got dressed up.

Max would help him get ready and then they'd do little photoshoots in his bedroom. He was a reluctant subject at first, awkward in his own skin until she suggested they smoke a joint before each session.

"To loosen you up a little, dick wad."

"What kinda brother would I be if I let my kid sister smoke pot?" Billy shook his head. "Absolutely not, Max."

She shrugged. "Then you do it."

So, he did.

And it helped. They switched up the music, finding it easiest to shoot to The Smashing Pumpkins, played with lighting and mood until she was satisfied with the "vibe," made immortal on film.

The images Max captured were like moments in time, archived in the shoebox under his bed. Billy looked like a rock star in every one--Debbie Harry on some days, Courtney on others; hair messy, cigarette trapped between his fingers, stockings ripped to shreds.

Max admitted that Courtney was her favorite, after a while, so that's the one that stuck.

And Billy loved every picture she took. Loved her artistic eye, obvious in the way she moved his lamp around the room to capture his features just so. Every session was serious like she was the photographer at Rolling Stone and he was her subject for the week.

It was addictive.

They had been taking pictures every night for a month when Neil caught them in the act.

The first punch felt like a bomb had gone off in his head, and Billy hit the floor without so much as a fight.

He remembers blood on the carpet.

Blood in his hair. On the walls. A splitting pain in his ribs and between his legs.

Keep digging your own grave, William.

Max patched him up after Neil's car tore out of the driveway.

"I'm sorry Billy." He hadn't realised she was crying. He ran his fingers over her cheek. "It's all my fault, I didn't mean--"

"I felt pretty." He said.

They stopped taking pictures after that.

Moving to Hawkins, Indiana was like stepping off the Earth and floating through space.

Billy felt weightless.

Every mistake, every hidden secret cloaked in baby doll dresses and leopard print coats had been left in San Francisco where they belonged. Stuffed in the back of his closet with the polaroid's they were able to tape back together.

He tried to forget the way it made him feel.

"You're the prettiest boy I've ever seen."

It wasn't meant to be a compliment. Billy could tell that from the way Steve's lips curled into a snarl.

He pushed his way into Billy's space, clearly drunk and high off something that made his pupils swallow the milky brown of his eyes.

Steve looked like he was swimming.

There were track marks in his arm. "You're like a vision," He reached out to touch, to feel, flinching back when Billy slapped his hand away.

"I don't know what the fuck you think you're doing, Harrington--"

"I think I'm in love with you."

And Billy had thought the same thing, the first time they ran into each other at the gay bar in Indianapolis, but. People talked.

Hawkins talked, like the city itself was an entity with a pulse and conscience that had been shot to shit in the eighties. Billy did his best to glare. "You don't love me, pretty boy."

"No, I." Steve grinned. He was high as a fucking kite. "I do. You're my guardian angel." He laughed hysterically, in a way that made Billy's skin crawl.

"What, your dealer tell you that?" He huffed.

And it was mean.

So fucking mean. If Steve was a junkie his skin wouldn't be so clear, so smooth. Like black cherries in milk, goddammit. Billy wanted to lap at the skin on his neck, taste the salt of his skin.

He wondered distantly if he'd be able to get high from it.

Probably. Steve smiled anyway. "Let me take you home."

"Such a fuckin' line," Billy said.

But he was already tugging pretty boy through the crowd.

Billy kept his dresses in the back of his closet where he kept his mother's suicide letters.

She had written more than one, consumed by her sadness in a way Billy had never understood until he had taken the fairy light inside him and smothered it.

Every once in a while, when Neil was out of the house and Max was at school or something, He'd take one out just to feel the weightlessness of the fabric settle against his skin.

Like little paper angels.

Like the whisper of something like hope but not quite, just out of reach.

He never did the full look anymore. Never put his heart and soul into it the way he had before, when Max was there to keep him from floating away, but.

Gradually he felt himself catch fire.

They had been together for three months when Steve peeled back the layers.

Neil was away on business, so Steve was sleeping over. Needed a shirt or sweats or to sleep in, catching sight of something bright red and shiny as he shifted the leather jackets at Greatful Dead t-shirts to the side to expose a stash of beautiful gowns that shone like an open sore against the soft light in Billy's bedroom.

Billy came through the open door, words dying on his lips as the bong in his hand shattered on the floor.

Steve held the dress up against the light, tongue poking out of his mouth in consideration.

"Max wants to be Debbie Harry for Halloween," Billy fished for his old excuse, eyes welling up with tears when Steve's jaw set in a firm line. "I'm helping her find the perfect dress, I--"

"Bill's--"

"That's not mine, Steve, I swear." Billy dropped to the floor.

Got on his fucking knees, hands level with his face in a silent prayer as he tripped over himself to rebuild the walls that had kept him safe. He was talking, spewing bullshit as Steve stood motionless against the closet door. Billy flung his arms around Steve's legs. Buried his face in his thighs, because.

He couldn't go through it again.

Wouldn't survive it.

"I never even seen that before, Stevie, please."

"Get up." Pretty boy commanded.

And.

Billy blinked teary, soulful eyes at him. "Huh?"

Steve shook his head. "I said stand up, baby. Get off the fucking floor."

Billy did. Steve watched him for a moment, expression unreadable. Billy prepared himself for the gut punch, the harsh word, the look of disgust in those eyes that had never shown anything but reverence for Billy, but it never came. In a single, syrupy slow motion Steve held the dress to Billy's throat, scanning him up and down in a way that left Bill naked and squirming.

He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think, as Steve smiled softly.

"Wanna see you." He said.

And. "What?"

"Can you put it on for me?" Steve asked. "Bet you look gorgeous. Like an angel, or a model or something--"

Billy let out a thick, wet sound. "I look like a beast, I'm--"

"No." Billy jumped when Steve nuzzled against his neck, the dress trapped like a gossamer curtain between them. "Bet you look like a deity. A goddess of rock n' roll. Like Courtney Love, right?"

And Billy had done a lot of things in his life. He was a builder of fortresses, a hider, an adventurer when the mood struck him. Billy protected himself and Max and his mother for as long as he could remember, carrying things that were too heavy for those with weaker shoulders, but.

He had never shown himself to someone he loved. No sugar, no cream, just.

Completely himself.

Billy took the dress and opened the safe in the corner. Pulled out his mother's makeup and painted himself into a masterpiece as Steve watched, motionless on the bed.

When he was done Billy was afraid to look in the mirror.

Terrified of what he'd see but Steve took him in his arms, peppering gentle kisses all along his face until Billy had built up enough courage.

"Ready? Steve whispered.

Billy let himself be turned around. Situated under the heavy sling of Steve's arm, until--

"Pretty."

Steve nodded. "Beautiful."

[emy-loves-you]

Sanders Sides AU-gust Day 13: Rock Band

Patton is the most popular boy in school, yet he can’t get the attention of his three crushes. When he learns that they’re all starting a band together, he becomes determined to make their dreams come true. Patton POV, endgame LAMP 

TW: Use of homophobic slur

Day 12 | Masterlist | Day 14

Patton Picani liked to think that he had superpowers. He could sway almost any person to be kind with just a smile. He could ask one question and topple an entire social norm. He could transform a nobody into a somebody with just a few words. It was his superpower, the ability to effortlessly sway the masses.

The truth was… complicated. Or rather, it was a series of scenarios and lessons that gave Patton this ‘superpower.’ The people who gave them to him? His parents, Emile and Remy Picani.

Emile and Remy loved their son very much and taught them everything they knew. This wasn’t a bad thing; Patton soaked up the lessons like a sponge. But the parents each had different things to teach him. Emile taught Patton everything he knew as a therapist so he could avoid conflicts. How to tell what someone’s feeling, what to say when someone’s upset, etc. Remy taught Patton how to grow up in a world turned against him. How to tell the difference between real and fake friends, how to lie with a straight face, how to spot a bully, etc. Emile helped Patton be confident in expressing himself with pastel colors and skirts. Remy helped Patton never lose a game of poker. So before Patton even started elementary school, he knew how to use his ‘superpowers.’

Patton also learned things on his own throughout the years. He learned that bullies were feared but not trusted. He learned that teacher’s pets would tell on you at a moment’s notice. He learned how to control the rumor mill, and which friends would stab him in the back. So in their tiny town with only three elementary schools, two middle schools, and one high school, Patton rose to power quickly. But Patton wouldn’t abuse his power. No, Patton tried to make a difference. He offered teacher’s pets protection and popularity in exchange for getting bullies suspended. He kept the rumor mill focused on the popular kids and away from the nobodies that couldn’t protect themselves. He ruined the lives of violent jocks and snotty rich kids with a few words and a disapproving frown. Bullying reached an all-time low, and by the time Patton was in high school he was the ‘friend’ of almost everyone in the city under the age of 21 (and all their parents. Patton was a model citizen, no one could dislike him).

But there was a cost for Patton’s power. Even though he was technically ‘friends’ with everyone, he didn’t have any actual friends. Everyone thought they were his friend, but after a while, everyone’s faces started to look the same. And even when they did catch Patton’s attention, they were usually too far down the social ladder for Patton to be more than casual acquaintances with.

There were exactly three people that caught Patton’s attention, and they just so happened to be his three crushes.

The first crush came in the form of Roman Prince. Like the name implied, Roman was a Disney Prince in terms of charisma and charm. He was in every school theatre production, and almost always the lead role. He would have been a popular kid, if not for his rivalry against Janice Mayberry. Janice had been at the top of the social ladder just as long as Patton had. She was extremely pretty, and a cheerleader to boot, so not even Patton’s influence could top the sheer power she held. So outside of the theatre group, Roman was a nobody. But Roman was also daring, and just, and drop-dead gorgeous. Patton attended every single play and musical, just to see Roman on stage. But beyond giving Roman a brief ‘congratulations’ at the end of each production, Patton couldn’t talk to him.

Patton could interact with his other crush a little more. Logan Berry was the definition of a nerd. He was in all advanced classes, he wore ties, he never got below 95% on any test. But he wasn’t a teacher’s pet. Actually, most teachers here hated Logan, for the simple fact that Logan would not let mistakes slide by. If a teacher said something wrong during a lesson, Logan spoke up. If a teacher graded something unfairly, Logan spoke up about it. The teachers always tried to report Logan for his ‘attitude,’ but the truth was he didn’t have an attitude. Logan only stated facts, and he kept his hand up politely while never having any sort of inflection in his tone. There were only a hand full of people that could make him show emotion, hence the nickname ‘robot.’ Patton wanted to speak up about the nickname, but he knew it would only draw more attention to Logan. But Logan wasn’t emotionless. He was kind, and patient, and helpful. Patton had needed help in his math classes, and his parents paid Logan to be his tutor. Patton ignored the fact the Logan was being paid to interact with him. Logan was extremely good with explanations, even when Patton couldn’t wrap his head around a concept. After a few weeks of math tutoring, Patton asked for help with English. One thing led to another, and they were basically study-buddies (with, you know, one of them being paid). But outside of study sessions, Patton couldn’t talk to him.

Then there was Virgil Storm. Virgil had transferred to their high school halfway through Freshman year. He was a loner, never seen hanging out with anyone. But something about him immediately drew in Patton’s attention. Maybe it was the (confirmed) rumors of Virgil getting kicked out of other schools due to fights. Maybe it was the way that his lips quirked every time he got a question right in class. Or maybe it was the way he looked in gym class, hoodie off and muscles exposed. Whatever the reason, Patton had been drawn to Virgil. Even if they had never spoken to each other. Well, until now.

It was September of Sophomore year, and Patton had been strolling down the hallway, minding his own business. He normally didn’t eat lunch at school, so he used this time to interact with teens outside of classes.

Crash!

Patton’s head whipped around, seeing a student shoved into the lockers. Now, that wouldn’t do at all. Patton quickly made his way to the fight, quickly recognizing the two teens. Virgil was on the ground with a bloody lip, while Jacob Smith stood over him. Jacob was captain of the football team, if Patton remembered correctly. Patton frowned as he noticed several of his ‘friends’ stand in the background but not help Virgil.

“Jacob!” Patton stepped between Virgil and Jacob, effectively pulling everyone’s attention towards him. Patton put on his best ‘disappointed’ expression. “Why are you hurting him?”

Jacob frowned. “He deserved it, Patton!”

Patton tilted his head slightly, making sure he kept the wide-eyed, innocent look. “What did he do?”

Jacob growled. “He’s a faggot that deserves to rot in Hell!”

Patton used all of his self-control to not show any of his shock. He didn’t know Jacob was such a homophobe. To use slurs and hurt a kid for being gay? That won’t do at all. Patton kept his curious look. “What does ‘faggot’ mean? Does it mean he’s a meanie?” Poor, innocent Patton wouldn’t know what that word meant. And Jacob Smith just sullied poor Patton’s mouth with those words. At least, that’s what everyone else thought.

Everyone stood in silence before someone spoke up. “It means he’s gay!” Patton couldn’t figure out who said that, but he mentally thanked them for giving him the perfect opening.

“So he got hit because he’s gay?” Patton hunched over slightly, pulling out all the stops for his ‘innocent, defenseless little lamb’ look.

Jacob smirked, glad to see that Patton was catching on. “Yeah, he deserves to be beat until he learns his lesson!”

Patton let his lip quiver as he summoned his crocodile tears. “B-but I’m gay!” While this wasn’t extremely common knowledge, it was extremely implied through Patton’s mannerisms and style of dress. Patton let the tears pour out. Several students started to approach as they caught on to what Patton was implying. “A-are you gonna b-beat me too?”

Jacob seemed to realize his mistake. “Pat-” He moved in to wrap his arms around Patton.

Patton flinched in (fake) fear, throwing his hands over his head. Still, what he yelled was loud and clear. “NO, PLEASE DON’T HURT ME!” Several students grabbed Jacob by the arms and dragged him away.

Janice approached Patton now, making sure to put some distance between them. “Are you okay, Pat?”

Patton let out a shaky sigh before lowering his arms. He gave Janice a wobbly smile. “Y-yeah. I’m gonna go wash my face in the bathroom. Can you go make sure Jacob doesn’t try this again?” Janice nodded, slinking off to wherever Jacob was dragged to. Now that all of the crowd was focused on Jacob, Patton turned his attention to Virgil. He was staring up at Patton with a mixture of awe and… fear? “C’mon, let’s go get cleaned up.” Virgil nodded mutely, getting up on his own. He grabbed his bag and a case of some sort (he probably dropped them when Jacob attacked him) before following Patton to the nearest bathroom. Patton grabbed some paper towels and got them wet before handing them to Virgil, who sat on the counter of the sinks. “Here, for your lip.” Virgil accepted it silently, dotting his lip to stem the bleeding. “I could take you to the nurse if you want.” Virgil shook his head no and Patton shrugged, moving to fix his makeup.

“Is it true?” Patton’s head shot up and Virgil looked away with a blush, hiding his face in his hoodie. “That you’re… um…”

Patton finished the question. “That I’m gay?” Virgil nodded, still blushing. “Yeah, I am. Are you also gay, or was Jacob accusing you of being gay for no reason?” Because if Virgil wasn’t gay, then that was an entirely different can of worms to deal with (one of which being Patton’s crush on him).

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, Jacob had seen my phone screen with me and my boyfriends.”

Patton tilted his head. He didn’t know that Virgil had boyfriends. “Can I see?” Virgil nodded, slowly taking out his phone to show Patton the lock screen. Logan, Roman and Virgil all stared at him, huddled under a mass of blankets. Patton felt his heart constrict at the fact that all of his crushes were dating each other so Patton didn’t have a chance, and smiled. “Awe, you look so cute together!” He moved to resume working on his makeup and accidentally bumped Virgil’s case with his foot. “What do you have in there?” He asked, genuinely curious.

Virgil blushed. “It’s a guitar. Me and my boyfriends were gonna practice after school.”

Patton let his eyebrows raise in shock. “You guys play guitar?”

Virgil turned even redder. “I do. Roman does bass and Logan does drums. We have a small band called The Sides. It’s nothing really.”

Patton’s eyes lit up. “You have a band? That’s so cool! Do you play at parties?” Patton hadn’t been to many parties lately.

Virgil sighed. “No, not yet. I don’t think we’ll ever be good enough for that.”

Patton shook his head. “I bet you are! Do you know how awesome it would be to have a live band at your party instead of some lame DJ? I promise, once you start promoting yourself, people will be begging to hire you!” Suddenly, the bell went off, signaling the end of lunch. “Oh, I’ve gotta go. See you later!”

Patton made a note to bring up playing instruments with Logan during their next study session. Even if Patton could never be romantically involved with his crushed, he could still make them happy. And if that meant pulling a few strings to make them the most popular music group in school?

Well, Patton was willing to pull a few strings for them.

[anemonenemerosa]

The Spare- Chapter 13

Hello fellow people, I’m sorry for the delay (The chapter has been posted on AO3 for ages and I don’t know what took me so long)

Credit for the Sweater-verse goes to the wonderful @lumosinlove​

Chapter 13

TW: Violence, a bit of blood, forced outing, abusive families

In calls and texts: Reg is normal Ben is bold-italic Mateo is italic Jo is bold

When Reg got from the airport to the hotel to change into his suit, he learned that his mother had, indeed, tricked him again. The contacts on his phone were mostly deleted and he had to share a room with Severus, who was less than thrilled at the prospect.

"I have to share a room with you to make sure you stay mommies little boy! Rookie, I tell you, get close to that faggot and I rip you apart. I'm not getting shit from Riddle or your mother because you don't stay at the sight side." He growled at Reg and combined with the cold glare of his deep-set eyes, Reg was convinced that he could -and would- actually do that.

"Your mother will be here tomorrow to have a look herself." They had him... he could not escape... his happy family idea was gone; The universe had hit back. He thought of losing his Hobbits, as he named Jo, Ben and Mateo and it pained him too much to let it dwell. Reg closed his eyes with a sigh and a resigned nod.

Of course, they had to arrive at that damn Red Carpet together with Sirius and Tremblay. Walking behind Sirius was bad, walking there with Severus eyeing his every movement was worse but the worst was when Reg saw the look on Sirius' face. Tired, lonely, hurt. He heard bits of the questions his brother was asked and hurt with him. Hockey is about hockey, not what a player does in his spare time.

And there was nothing he could do. He had to re-watch the introduction with a proudly sniggering Severus four times this evening without a chance to sneak out and find Sirius. Reg considered drowning himself in the bathtub. He really ruined it for his brother ...and Remus. That poor guy who had probably lived a peaceful live until now, that he was accused of fucking his way up. What Regulus heard on the phone that dreadful night did not sound like he took advantage of his brother's fame.

The next morning, he briefly met his mother, who dismissed him curtly, her eyes scanning the players for his brother.

"Regulus, do what you are told. No missteps! You really thought I would let you roam freely, disgracing the name of Black even more?" her long nails were digging though his armour, her voice calm but freezingly cold. They would not let him go and stay with Ben and Mateo. He was stuck with his actual family. Although completely unhelpful, Regulus felt the abandonment by Sirius cut in his chest. He left me with them... he knew how they were, even then.

But determined as always, he tried to help Sirius. He came here to talk to him, to -hopefully- mend fences and become brothers again.

How do I even get to him secretly? Regulus was still finalising his tactic as he noticed Severus and his mother glaring daggers at Sirius, looking much better than yesterday and signing stuff for people covered in rainbow-flags. He made an uncommonly rash decision.

Regulus quickly skated over to his brother, almost knocking him over and tried to warn him without being obvious. If he looked angry, he could play it off as scolding, if his mother inquired. But Sirius didn't understand that he tried to warn him, not to berate him. Reg allowed himself his internal eye-roll as he had nothing else going for him. Connard stupide.

That damn Tremblay wouldn't go away either and there was not much he could explain without him overhearing. Il est trop relou. He's annoying.

And before Regulus had conveyed the, rather important, message that their mother was coming for him, Snape called him over. After the skills-competitions, which he lost (much to the disdain and disappointment of his mother), he was ushered into the hotel room, petulantly supervised by Severus until the next day.

During the games, Snape couldn't hover around him and Regulus was paired to play with Sirius. He was not sure whether he should be glad or upset about this. He missed his few days of peace with his Hobbits, missed the easy conversations with Jo, missed being Reg.

Regulus felt miserable. Sirius had made it clear that he did not want him anymore and he dreaded going back to the prison that was his life. He rubbed over the butterfly stitches, closing the cut at his thigh and somewhat cursed meeting Ben at all. Without him, he wouldn't have known how lousy his life actually was. He was not in the mood anymore to get through to Sirius although the All-Star people all but shoved him into his face. He wanted to be left alone.

That was, until Sirius spoke, really spoke to him. Made clear that he did not hate Regulus, called him Reg, told him that he would help him get out if he wanted to.

His thoughts were twirling in his brain. There was a rapid shift in their estranged relationship, one that Reg loved. But they hadn't talked about the outing-thing and he grew more and more terrified of losing it all over again when he opened up. But Sirius seemed quite happy with the prospect of sorting things out. Alors, because he has no idea of the shit-show on the horizon.

Reg was happy, too. His brother really stayed with him. He did not go after the interviews, where he found the courage to openly support his brother, not just quietly in his mind.  But he was also scared out of said mind by the prospect of returning to Slytherin, especially after that public statement.

Sirius turned to him. “Come back to Gryffindor with me. Minnie got you a seat with me and Logan. Tomorrow.”

There was an out? Relieve beyond belief soared though Reg as his brother pulled him into a hug. They hadn't done that in years. But the embrace triggered a chain of thoughts that yanked him out of his comfort. Ben. He thought there was an out before, but Ben and Mateo were not in the position to really help him, as much as they wanted to. Sirius, on the other hand had quite a bit of leverage.

Reg felt ungrateful.

That weird guy who found him bleeding and crying in the shower, hugged him, took him home and just made him part of the family in three days.

 "You know what, I’m your mom now!”

 “I’m talking now as your fried -or co-mom, apparently..."

Both, Ben and Mateo said that after Reg confessed what he had done. Even then, they wanted him to be there, to stay with them. He wanted to be with them, too but not with everything else waiting in Slytherin. His throat was tight. Reg wanted both. He wanted to keep this new-found people and be with his brother. And he felt like shit for assuming Sirius gave him a better chance for an escape.

But Reg and Sirius hadn’t talked yet. His brother new nothing. Would he still be so inclined to take Reg with him if he knew who turned his life inside-out? He needed to talk to him before they boarded the plane. And he needed to talk to Ben and Mateo. And Jo. Wonderful, funny Jo, who was open, honest and kind. Who cared for him and liked him as person, not as hockey player. And Jo, who he would probably leave behind just like Ben and Mateo for his brother. If Sirius still wanted him.

The fear of losing so much nearly overwhelmed him. He needed an out.

“Okay,” Regulus said into Sirius’ neck, voice thick. “Okay."

They would meet at Sirius room in about an hour. Time for Reg to sneak into his own room and gather his things, hopefully without running into Severus.

Thank all the deities whose existence I doubt that Severus is anywhere but in there. Reg thought relieved after closing the door behind him. He felt a bit calmer now that he made a plan. He would call the Hobbits from a telephone booth he saw on his way (Apparently, they still existed).

A small piece of paper with the number was shoved into his pocket by Mateo before he went to the airport in Slytherin.

"Just in case."

                                                       oOo

"Hello?"

"Ben?"

"Reg? Hi! Is everything OK? What kind of number is this?"

"We watched All Star all day, you did great!!!"  Jo's voice drifted in from the off

"Erm... yes, well... um...I call from a telephone booth and I- I kind of need to talk to you guys."

"Okaay... I didn't know these things still exist. Anyway, do you want me to put you on speaker?"

"OK." Reg felt so nervous, his voice was tight, his gut clenched.

 "Hello there, Reg! What's up?" Mateo.

"Erm..." The Reg of question had no idea how to approach the issue, but time was pressing.

"Come on, it's us. What's bothering you?"

"I- I talked to Sirius and he wants to take me with him home but he doesn't know it's all my fault and Maman will not let me stay with you she will find a way and if I don't leave with Sirius I might never get out of there but I do not want to leave you guys and I do not want to be ungrateful but I feel like this but I really want out of there but maybe Sirius doesn't want be with him once he finds out and please don't hate me." Once the floodgates opened it all came out in a stumbled, confused word-vomit.

Smooth and collected.

"Whoa, whoa Okay. Keep calm, everything's okay. Just let us go through that one at a time. Do you have enough coins?"

"Yes." He choked out.

“Good. So, we try to repeat to what you have told me in some kind of order, and you tell me if we got that right, OK?”

"OK."

"You talked to your brother and he wants to help you out of your abusive situation. You think that he can really help you, but you are afraid he doesn't what once he learns how he got outed, right?"

Reg couldn't answer. That was on point. Instead, he let out a deep sigh. "Mhm."

"Okay. Well, we do not know Sirius. So, we don't know how he might react but at least on the screen he seemed to be getting more confident with this. Talk to him. I'm sure he sees that, while you accidentally started the whole thing, the reaction of the people is not your fault."

"But-" Reg all but choked out. He was so fucking afraid. “But what if not?”

"I know. Maybe you have to trust him a little there."

"I- I try. There is not much else I can do anyway, is there?" A bitter laugh escaped his lips.

"Well, you could also come back to us. I know you said your mother wouldn't let you." Ben said quickly before Reg could tell him exactly that.

"But if everything else fails, rebook your flight to another time and we get you directly from the airport. Please keep that in mind. Our door is open for you. We're your moms, after all."

"None of us is mad because you want to get out. We want you to get out, too. You are not ungrateful. It's not that you walk out on us or anything."

"Also, phones and stuff exist, obviously. Or did you plan to say goodbye now and never call again?"

Jo hadn't said anything so far and Reg ached with the slight insecurity in her voice. But then all the other things they said seeped through his mind, followed by warmth. They did not hate him; They were not angry. He hadn't messed up, so far.

"I- No. No, this is not a goodbye. I just wanted to talk to you, let you know what changed."

"And that was very nice of you, my son. Now, better go and talk to Sirius, yeah? And please give us a short call or send a message later. So that we know whether we have to kidnap you on Slytherin airport, or not." Ben sounded like he was joking but practically ushered him from the phone.

For the last five minutes, any unsuspecting hotel guest on floor three would have had the opportunity to observe one Regulus Black attempting to knock on a door and failing repeatedly.

Alors, Regulus Arcturus Black. Where are your metaphorical balls? Knock on that fucking door already!

The moment he did, he regretted it a little. Sirius flung the door open, phone at his ear, grinning.  Hey. He mouthed and jerked his head to beckon Reg inside. Once the door was closed, Sirius looked at him again, still grinning and gesturing at his phone. Remus. Want to say hi?

Reg was very sure that he did not want to say hi. He still dreaded the wrath of both of them and shook his head no, looking pained.

                                                      oOo

Looking at the frantic shaking head of his brother, Sirius felt his stomach knot. What if he's not as accepting as he told the media? Does he hate me after all?

After saying goodbye to Remus and hanging up, there were a few eternities of awkward silence. They hadn't been alone in a room together since... a long time ago.

"Alors... Reg, erm" Sirius switched to French now. It felt more comfortable, like they were children again. "Would you like to tell me about what ha-"

"I'd rather not talk about that right now." Reg fidgeted nervously at the frayed cuffs of his sweater.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure." His brother looked like he'd rather just go to bed and never talk again but Sirius really had to ask before taking him to Gryffindor.

"Did you mean it? You really support me?"

"What do you mean?" Reg just glanced up from intensely memorising the pattern of the carpet.

"I suppose you followed twitter" At his dry tone, an eyebrow of Reg moved upwards.

"Yes, I did... But who you spend your free-time with and what you choose to do with them is indifferent to your hockey play."

"Warm words as always, loving brother."  Now, the second eyebrow followed.

"Okay well, fuck you! You left me there, with our parents expecting me to outdo your every move! I know they are horrible, but you went and got better without me. You promised, to always be my brother, to be there for me. And then, you weren't. You abandoned me! Do you know how much I envied you for having friends, a team that supports you and genuinely likes you as a person, not just your play?”

"Reg..." Sirius tried to reach out to his brother, but Reg backed away.

"S-Sorry, that's not what I came here for. I wanted to tell you..." but the sentence just trailed off into tense silence.

"What is it?"

"I..."

"Come on, spit it out"

"I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about the situation."

"For what? Me being gay?" baffled, Sirius could only stare at his brother.

"No... for getting you into that situation... I did not want to hurt you or Remus"

"Well- Wait what?" Something awful was dawning in Sirius mind.

"I overheard your call on thanksgiving, you weren't exactly quiet... and please believe me I did not want this to happen... I-" Sirius felt suddenly cold all over.

"What. Did. You. Do?" his voice was barely above a whisper.

"It was at the Snake's Christmas... I- I was so lonely because of that Interview I was basically grounded and under constant observation... and I thought you hated me after that and... and I didn't want to - it just kinda slipped. I thought they all were too drunk to notice but-"

"Regulus." Crashing headfirst into the boards was pleasant compared to what Sirius felt right now. "Really I'm so-" Reg stammered, voice thick and eyes fixed on his shoes.

And next Sirius' fist crashed into his brother's face, sending him to the floor.

Sirius took a few ragged breaths, ready to succumb into a fit of rage but looking into his brother's face, almost a mirror of his own, eyes wide and blood tickling from his nose, not even trying to defend himself, he realised that this was not Regs fault… Sirius knew how their parents could get, knew the Snakes, knew that feeling of loneliness from when he was that young. His brother did not want to harm him but most importantly, it was not Regs fault how the public reacted and that he run away from Remus at the airport… Long ago, he promised himself to never hurt his baby brother, to protect him…. Sirius eyes welled up as he yanked him off the floor and pressed him to his chest. I'm sorry. Je suis désolé, je suis désolé... I'm sorry... I left you there, all alone... I'm sorry...

Regulus looked up into his face, tears streaking his face, too while both realised that although there is so much work to do between them after hall they lived through and did to each other, that they still have each other.

                                                         oOo

"Do you love him?" The brothers were sitting opposite each other on Sirius' bed, legs stretched out between them, both a cup of tea in their hands, Reg still pressing a tissue to his nose. Sirius was telling Reg about the general situation in Gryffindor.

"Yes", Sirius didn't even hesitate for a heartbeat.

"Have you actually put in the effort to tell him?" He leaned back against the headboard, crossing his legs.

"Reg, stop smart-assing."

"I see." Reg smirked a bit, " Then maybe, you know, mention it sometime. Or is he psychic?"

"You are a git."

"You like me."

"I ldo" Sirius snorted. " but I am still mad at you."

"As you have every right to be."

"Reg, ...why did you not speak to me first?"

"You mean because talking about feelings was exactly the sole centre of our upbringing?"

"You are not helping your cause."

"Je le sais. Je suis désolé mon frère... je suis sérieux." I know. I'm sorry... I really am.

                                                        oOo

After a few beats of a little more comfortable silence, a sudden reminder pinged through Reg's thoughts.

"Oh. I almost forgot. Can I take your phone to send a text? Mine is still spied at." He piped up rather automatically, then saw his brother's eyes narrow.

"Who would you want to text?"

"Erm..." Reg felt his cheeks heat, no idea how to explain this fever-dream-situation but the raised eyebrow with the expectant look on Sirius' face made him spill something. Reg thought it was a rather messily told story, but his brother seemed to follow.

"So, you had a meltdown after the tweed outing me and ...the guy that, cleans the stadium put you back together, had you checked by his EMP boyfriend and then took you home with the boyfriend to ...feed you soup and hug you good-night after telling you their life-stories?

"Yes."

"And then you came back to them two days later and told them about our family and they just offered you to live with them and -and announced themselves your mom and co-mom, while you refer to them as the Hobbits because they are short and friendy?"

"Yes."

"You are aware of just how absurd that sounds?"

"Mhm." Reg was gnawing at his bottom lip. He had not mentioned Jo so far. This was odd enough already.

"Just checking... Well, then go on." Sirius threw his phone across the bed, thinking of how lucky Reg got with these people but also looking for a catch.

This is Sirius' phone. I survived and will accompany him to Gryffindor tomorrow. Hugs, Reg. he quickly typed the message and sent it on its way.

When he woke up the next morning, around five, he found himself curled up on his side, head at the foot of the bed. Lifting said head, he caught a sight of his brother, mirroring his position so that their calves were at the back of the other.

"Just as we used to." He mumbled before carefully getting up and heading for the bathroom, getting ready for his flight.

[bi-dazai]

honestly i think i have a weird anger or cultural confusion where other gay and trans ppl are like much happier and comfortable to come out and shit and be open, but I've always had an extremely complicated relationship with it because it's always made me feel so isolated and lonely, even with other gay ppl around. and younger ppl especially will like go around coming out so frequently and meanwhile if I'm going to even tell you that I'm attracted to women I have to trust you 110% and that isn't something that comes easy.

I'm terrified of like. Wearing even rainbow goddamn socks because I'm scared shitless of getting bullied, or harassed, or even assaulted. Which is ironic considering I try to be quite fashionable in public but with being openly bi (let alone being openly TRANS) it's a complete no-no.

Like I think as much as I love being bi and nb at the same time I still despise it, I still think it's ruined my life. I have gender dysphoria about my chest whereas if I was cis I would be so happy with how feminine my body is. My first ever relationship with another girl at the moment being cut short by abusive homophobia fucked me up in innumerous ways, leading me to like...severe issues with the way i feel about sex and emotional attachment and touch.

And ofc there's the homophobia, like at this moment I'm probably leaning towards getting a fuckbuddy or smth over tinder but like a romantic relationship with another person is terrifying, like I'm insanely private w relationships even w men, I won't let us hold hands if I think too many people might see bc i have this stupid complex

There's more and more but my relationship with being Out is one where it's something that I simultaneously desire and despise, being Out is one of the most terrifying concepts I can think of and to me having someone refer to me as "they" and not as a woman is simply not as important as being safe, as not living in even more fear of assault.

And then all around me ppl my age (although usually younger) are all coming out to anyone and everyone like it's just casual, saying their pronouns like it's nothing. And first it's disbelief and shock because holy fuck, has everyone gone fucking mad?? Are we all so fucking stupid that we just forget the everloving fear homophobia strikes into you?? And then it's the jealousy, that these people have this comfortable relationship with their own gay/transness and enough trust to actually open up and tell a room full of strangers "please call me they not she". It's disappointment and anger in myself that almost 7 years after forcing myself to whisper "I'm bisexual" to the bathroom mirror in the middle of the night and then cry my eyes out because it felt like I'd been cursed, and probably over a decade since I'd started having sexual feelings about all genders, and an entire lifetime of having feelings for men women and others, after so long I'm still just a coward who sits and hates it all, who fears it all.

But then recently I've come to the realisation that the way I realised I was gay was a way that's kind of...dying out. That being the mostly offline way.

Don't take this the wrong way but I've found a lot of people go online and find this overwhelming amount of support and representation for gay and trans identity. You can argue validly this statement, but the context I use this in is comparing it to like. 2013. People were way less online. Being an online celebrity was a novelty.

At school there were dyke, faggot, tranny, etc, thrown around as if they were confetti. Jokes about "lesbos" and "lesbihonest" humiliated any girl who was too close to another girl. I grew up not just in Brisbane Queensland but in a town that was connected to the mainland only by two bridges - a landbridge and a humanmade bridge. The school was overwhelmingly anglo. Overwhelmingly right wing.

I realised I was bi with minimal help from Tumblr. I realised I was bi because I fell, hard, for my best friend. And then she liked me back, and our relationship was amazing. But the school found out. We held hands under the table, we found a quiet moment to kiss and everyone pointed and stared. We made out in the shadow of a building and turned to find twenty people watching gawkeyed, pointing, fascinated.

The entire time her mum was abusive, and massively homophobic. She blamed me for turning her daughter gay. She forced us multiple times to break up at the threat of violence. Eventually we did. We never talked about it. Our friendship never returned like it used to. It was awkward, tinged with sadness, regret, yearning and young love cut short.

It was traumatic, to say the least.

Tumblr in 2014, despite the cringe screenshots, wasn't actually mostly about LGBT positivity or whatever. I first saw the term bisexual on, if you can believe me, a quotev story in 2011 about a cheerleader and an emo girl who get together in a secret relationship. You were either gay or straight, or you had an exception. Bisexual felt right, though, for me, felt accurate, was accurate.

It was years of confusion and secrecy and guilt, peeks at other girls in the changing room that I couldn't help and I didn't understand why. Then it was months and months of anger and frustration at myself that I was feeling this way and confused about myself, and then when I said those words it felt like I was being torn apart. It felt like my life had fallen apart. I cried every goddamn night, I felt awful all the time.

At school the kids noticed. They noticed before I started dating my friend, they noticed the way I looked at her and they interrogated me about it. I'd claim up and down I had a crush on another boy - true perhaps, but it was a passing interest - and then they said they told him and analysed how I reacted. And then the interrogations continued for months because the gay girl was entertainment for them. Around me, as I walked between classes, had lunch, walked home, dyke dyke dyke faggot hahaha.

And then the relationship happened and then leelah alcorn happened and I learned what a trans person is. And sometime when I was fifteen I saw nonbinary begin to pop up, terms like genderfluid and nonbinary and they rang true like bisexual did, but the last time I went down a rabbit hole like that it ended in trauma, and another person got hurt. I didn't throw homophobia at her, but I felt and still feel responsible for it. I didn't turn her gay, but I made it obvious. I don't quite know how to say it.

I knew I was nonbinary, deep down. One day I decided to add that to my tumblr bio. Nobody gave a shit, just like nobody gave a shit when I said I was bi. But that was because I wasn't open about it even online. I couldn't talk about that stuff or I'd curse myself.

Time went on, I got more comfortable, collected fresh new traumas. My brother came out as trans. Around me, friends came out as gay and trans. But they kept coming out. They didn't stop at close friends and trusted family, they told teachers, their entire class. I didn't understand. Why the fuck would you put yourself at risk like that?? And I still don't. I said it was jealousy and anger at myself before, and maybe it is still a little bit, but now, it's just concern.

As I said, the way I realised I was gay is the rather old fashioned way - offline, through trauma, and almost entirely unenjoyable and traumatic. A lot of kids still go through that for sure. But the ones I see telling everyone over that they're gay or trans are, in my experience, not those ones. As the internet began to become more of a general use thing and less of a "only recluse weirdos" space, the online LGBT safe space began to expand into an audience bigger than before. Online, you were safe. Nobody knew your name, you were behind a screen. Homophobia was veiled, you could just delete a hateful anon, could just log off. You could put up your pronouns and people would use them because, well, ppl didn't really have any other identifier someone might use for your gender. So this positive uplifting atmosphere spawned for the most part. And instead of learning through confusion and rare chance encounters with random words and crying into the sink every night that you're gay, you much easier come across this content that tells you indepth what this is and that it's okay. And you think, well wow, that's me, and then...you know, I guess. Not denying there's some of the classic self hatred etc but...you have this safe space online to fall back on, and I cannot emphasise how much that has pushed the acceptance and widespread knowledge of lgbt people in the past 5 years. I didn't exactly have that space, and my realisation was through mostly real life channels, which were swamped at all sides by homophobia, at worst, abusive, at kindest, it would treat you like a sideshow attraction.

Being someone who arguably isn't old enough to brush this difference away with being an "older gay" but still having had a gay experience quite different to the majority in my generation (applying this to area as well) I have to say I'm confronted with this comfortableness other days have a lot and it's always jarring. I think also that while it's important and I'm happy that "younger" gays and transes have at least one good support network/space to fall back onto online, I do think it creates this kind of...dangerous other side, especially for those who go to schools that are LGBT positive and have families who are also friendly to that sort of stuff. I find that young gay teens are totally unprepared and unhardened for the fact that most people you run into in real life despise your guts for existing as who you are. And while we can make as many soppy gay narratives as possible about being honest about who you are and losing shame, we need to face the fact and teach young lgbt kids that being Out isn't just something you do as a ritual in being gay or trans, it's a brave thing and it's completely optional. And furthermore, most importantly, it's insanely dangerous.

I don't think that teenage, raw fear of the consequences of even the very concept of being Out has ever left me. Perhaps I have to thank the homophobic 14 yr olds who swamped me in slurs and trauma, because it's given me a survival sense that's kept me closeted so far you'd never get in.

But occasionally I'm tempted, particularly with my transness which I am only out to perhaps 3 people about, to venture into the world of telling people about yourself. I started a new uni semester and in a tutorial, the teacher handed out cards. We were to use it as a placard to write our names on it so the teacher would learn our names over the next few classes. And, if we chose...our pronouns.

I stared at that card for what felt like a million years. This has always been an ordeal. People don't know how to pronounce my name, even though it's a rather simple one. But pronouns? I'd never really told anyone those. Online, yes, and once when I was asked by a friend i was brave enough to say "any will do" but this - this wasn't the curated safe online space, this wasn't a one-time phrase to a friend. This was an open, permanent thing that would sit below me every class, declaring me to 18 other people. I wrote down "NATALYA", then beneath "she/". And then I stared some more. I felt like I was going to die. I felt like I was the biggest fool, because before I could stop myself I wrote "she/they". No "he", not yet. But...it was there.

At the end of the class the teacher collected the placards. I wanted to run back screaming, wanted to ask her for a new card so I could be safe again. But I didn't because I would look like a freak and a coward.

I still think it's stupid. I still think I've put some petty gesture that no one will ever respect (if they can call you she they won't ever call you they) above my own safety. The thing that really struck me was that it didn't feel good. The reason I wrote it like that, I believe in hindsight, is that I was curious what those other kids feel like, because it must feel good to declare that you're a tr*nny d*ke in front of the entire class, good enough to beat the stomach-lurching dread that precedes such an action. But it didn't. It just felt like an unnecessary risk. And it made me feel worse, like there was a target on the back of my head.

I think I could talk about this forever, about how so many kids believe coming out is this thing you're required to do to be a good gay, but it's not. It's stupid stupid reckless, and in my case it ends with you getting fucked over.

But Ive written for ages and gotten prosaic halfway through so I'm gonna shut up. Basically why the fuck do you guys come out to everyone like please stay safe instead of this it isn't worth it.

[softest-cinnamon-roll]

Did Eddie kill his mum!? If he did, good for him. Also I need a part 2 to the snow prompt I beg of u 🥺

you asked and I delivered. This is part two to this, and set from Eddie’s point of view. 

trigger warning: mentions of conversion therapy

* * * * *

Eddie was quiet on the ride to the station, his eyes glancing out the window at the houses and trees covered in snow. Tears built up in his eyes, but he refused to break down, there was no way he was breaking down in front of the officers. He closed his eyes, but all he could see was a repeat of the events that had taken place that night, all leading up to the look of horror on Richie’s face as he was dragged away.

He wondered how long he’d get in prison for what happened. Ten years? Twenty? LIfe? His mother was dead now, all because of him, all because he couldn’t do as he was told. Eddie’s eyes moved from the window to his arms, which were slowly beginning to bruise, the scratches turning a harsh red colour.

The car suddenly came to a stop, and the officers stepped out, opening the door to pull Eddie out by his cuffed hands. They lead him into the station and through a set of double doors into a pale grey room with a single table and two chairs. It didn’t take a genius to know that this was an interrogation room, and that he was about to be questioned on what happened in the house, less than an hour ago.

“Take a seat, Mr Kasbrak. Someone will be with you shortly.” One of the officers stated as he sat Eddie down in the chair, like he wasn’t capable of doing it himself. Maybe he wasn’t. A thousand thoughts were swirling around in his head, and before the officer could leave the room, Eddie turned around to catch his attention.

“L-Lawyer…” Eddie croaked out, his eyes widening at the sound of his own voice. It hadn’t sounded like that earlier when he had spoken to Richie, but then again the adrenaline was starting to wear off and the pain was beginning to settle in. Carefully, Eddie lifted his hand to his throat, tears springing into his eyes at the pain. “I- I want a- a lawyer.”

The officer just nodded, leaving the room and slamming the door closed. The ringing echoed in Eddie’s ears and he moved his hands from his throat to cover them up, resting his head on the table in front of him. As he closed his eyes, he let his mind take him back to the beginning of the night, to before everything fell to shit.

“Oh come on Eds, are you sure you don’t want to come to the arcade with Bill and me? It’ll be fun! I’ll even let you win a few games.” Eddie rolled his eyes as Richie practically begged him down the line to hang out with them. Of course, Eddie wouldn’t usually pass up on a chance to get out of the house and spend time with his boyfriend, but his mother had been…acting stranger that day and he didn’t think sneaking out of his window would work that night.

“I can’t,” Eddie sighed eventually. “I have…stuff I need to do.” The lie was pathetic, and Eddie knew Richie would know he was making excuses, he just hoped for once that Richie would let it go. He’d see him the next day anyway, as they had all planned to hang out at the clubhouse. “I’ll see you tomorrow though. I promise.”

He could hear the hesitation in Richie’s sigh, but he eventually caved and they said their goodbyes. A few moments later, his mother called him from downstairs. The tone of her voice was harsh, and Eddie felt a sick feeling rise in his stomach, yet he followed her orders and went down the stairs.

The rest of the evening passed by tensely, with Eddie sitting on the couch and his mother sitting on her armchair, staring aimlessly at the screen. Once her show was done, she flicked off the TV and turned so she was facing Eddie, only making his anxiety grow. “Eddie-bear. When were you going to tell me about you and that dirty boy? When were you going to confess that you are defying god and doing ungodly things with that boy?”

Eddie froze up and he looked at his mother with a shocked expression. There was no way she could have known, he was being so careful! Even after she had installed the camera in the hallway, which Eddie knew was to make sure he wasn’t sneaking out at night, he was still careful. “Ma-”

“You are not to see him again, and first thing tomorrow I am taking you to a confessional and we’re going to get you cured.” His mother spoke with no emotion in her voice and Eddie’s heart dropped, tears springing into his eyes. “Don’t start crying, Edward. You did this to yourself.” Within a few seconds, his mother was off the chair and looming over him, wrapping her chubby hand around his wrist, squeezing tight. “No son of mine is going to be the local faggot.”

“Ma- ma you’re hurting me,” Eddie whimpered, tugging his hand to try and get out of her grip, but it only tightened, nails digging into his skin. “Ma, let me go!”

She stared down at him, nothing but hatred in her eyes and for the first time in years, Eddie felt genuine fear around her. ”You are a dirty boy Eddie, and you need to be punished. You need to see that it’s wrong.” She hissed, moving her other hand to attempt to restrain Eddie further. Before she could, Eddie jerked his hand away, removing her grip and he scrambled over the sofa and up the stairs,

He could hear his mother screaming, her feet thundering on the floorboards as she followed him and then banging on his door once he’d slammed and locked it. His heart was racing, tears streaming down his cheeks as  he looked down at his arm, scratched and bleeding. Fuck, his mother had gone insane and he needed to get out of there before she did something terrible.

Quickly, Eddie shoved as many necessary items into an overnight bag and pulled it over his shoulder. He’d go to Richie’s, he was always welcome there, and now that he was eighteen his mother couldn’t say it was kidnapping as he made his own choice. He pulled up his window and was just about to jump when the door opened and a hand was digging into his scalp, pulling him back from the window and towards the door.

“You really do not want to know what I’m capable of Edward,” his mother hissed as she dragged him from his room into the hallway and onto his feet. “Why did you have to go and be such a bad boy? Why couldn’t you have stayed as my precious Eddie-Bear and married a church girl just like I wanted? Why did you have to be dirty Eddie?”

Eddie shook his head, trying to get out of her grip, but she was strong in her anger. “I-I’m not your little boy anymore! I haven’t been for a while! I’m in love with Richie and there is nothing you can do to stop that! No conversion therapy is going to change the fact that I’m gay and you need to accept it!”

At his words, her eyes darkened just a little and Eddie thought that he had finally gotten through to her, that she would finally just accept it and let him go. What he didn’t expect was for her to move her hands to his throat and start to squeeze. “I didn’t want to have to do this Eddie. You were my little boy and I loved you, but I can’t have a fag for a son, I can’t have a dirty, sick boy living under my roof. I am sorry, but this is for your own good, this will cleanse your soul and maybe you’ll be allowed to enter heaven or you will go to hell and repent for your sins.”

It all happened so fast, Eddie’s vision was blacking out the harder that his mother squeezed at his throat, and he knew if he didn’t act then he would be dead in seconds. Hoping to distract her long enough just so he could escape and run for help, Eddie raised his leg and slammed his foot down on his mother’s. She gasped in pain, removing her hands from his throat and backing up towards the stairs. Their eyes met for a moment, a long halted moment before she lost her balance at the top of the staircase, body tumbling backwards as Eddie tried to lunge forward and catch her.

He was too late, her fingers skimming past his own as she fell down, body thumping against the steps and even cracking a few before her head slammed against the large pillar at the bottom of the stairs with a hard, resounding crack. Silence filled the room, barr Eddie’s intense breathing as he stared down at his motionless mother on the floor of their entrance hall. From where he was standing, he could see the blood pouring onto the laminate floor from her head.

Slowly, Eddie moved his trembling body backwards until it hit the wall, allowing the tears of horror to flow.

What the hell had he done?

* * * * *

@3tothe1 @anellope @annxmatron @appojoos @are-you-reddie-for-it @beepbeeprichiellc @bi-bi-richie @billdenbrough @bitchbrak @callmechee @dadbodrichie @derrylosers @disneyfan567 @eds-trashmouth @eduardoandale @feldmancorey @girasol-eddie @gloire-celeste @halfway-happy353 @hawkinsbabe @inthebreadbinwrites @itfandomprompts @its-stranger-than-you-think @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @kat-ships-everything @lifesucksheres20bucks @loserslibrary @losers-gotta-stick-together @madidraw @mars-14 @marsisaplanetyall @moonlightrichie @nancynwheeler @no-she-wasnt-reddie @oldguybones @photoboothreddie @pink-psychic @purplepoisonedgem @queen-sock @ransonelovebot @rebecca-the-queen @reddie-for-anything @reddie-to-cryy @reddieforlove @reddiesetandgo @richietoaster  @roobarrtrashmouth @rreddies @s-onora @s-s-georgie @sashadrowned @sedanleystanley @sloppybitchreddie @sparklingrainbowdragon @spirited-marvel @stebbins @stellarbisexual @studpuffin @takeourpure @that-weird-girls-blog @thegoshdiddlydangdoor @thejadeazalea @thorn-harvester-ven @tinyarmedtrex @tozier-boy @tozierking @toziesque @trashmouthtozierr @twoidiotsinl0ve @violetreddie @virgo-luthie @wilding-throught-thehallways @xandertheundead  

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

roommates AU!! Maybe one where young Tony has had a string of awful roommates (ie. they bully him for his age, etc.). The housing office transfers him one last time and tells him to give it a week. If this one still doesn't work out, then they'll let him room alone. At first, Tony just wants the week to be over, but of course his new roommate is the sweet Peter Parker. Cue pining!Tony, oblivious!Peter and a fluffy resolution... Just my rambles, but always excited to see what you come up with!

do the thing - send in all the prompts.    

Nonnie, this was a lovely prompt - thank you so much for the idea! I aged Tony up a little bit to make sure there wasn’t anything underage, but I hope I hit all the things you were looking for! 

Tony always figured flying through school would be a breeze. And for the most part – it was. The class material turned out to be easier than even he anticipated; he could’ve easily gotten through high school with his eyes closed. At 16, the concept of winning was the only thing that registered to him – what he was winning, he didn’t really know; but beating out his peers around him always made him feel just a bit better about how ridiculously brainy he really was.

Of course, the social aspect of school wasn’t nearly as easy. Most people didn’t understand what it was like to be the son of Howard Stark – Tony knew the inside of a lab before the age of 4 and attended dinners with some of the world’s figure heads on a consistent basis. As one of the youngest people in the entire room always, Tony struggled to fit in. Being smart wasn’t the piece of school that people admired, especially when the age gap was already so substantial. To say he was picked on was putting it mildly.

He assumed getting to college would end all of the bullying that came pre-packaged in the high school experience. Why would people in the pursuit of a degree in higher education care how old anyone was? The shocking reality of how wrong he was came when his very first roommate locked him out of the dorm for a full 48-hours. Tony didn’t like to throw around the weight of his name, but he hadn’t showered and needed textbooks to get to some of his classes. Needless to say, his roommate did not remain in the room for much longer.

Tony’s next roommate at least lasted for the rest of the year – he was an asshole at all points in time, but he didn’t lock him out of the room or touch his shit. There wasn’t enough of a connection to ask him back as a roommate – so Tony put his name back on the list for a roommate and went about his summer vacation.

Coming back from Italy, Tony was refreshed and more than ready to get through the next year as quickly as possible. He’d turned 17 over the summer and was one step closer to being on the cusp of independence. Then, people couldn’t judge him for his age. Tony walked into the year with a positive attitude – that was quickly bat down by the homophobic bigot they stuck him with. Tony still didn’t like the way faggot sat on the surface of his skin.

The struggle to keep a roommate brought him in front of housing for what felt like the hundredth time – all he wanted was some peace to get through school and maybe enjoy some of it. The notoriety of the university kept the supply of single rooms scarce, but he figured if push really came to shove, he could find a way to get one for himself. Cindy, who’d been dealing with him since his first gem of a roommate screwed the pooch, looked at him with a mixture of pity and concern. “I need you to give it a go one more time, for at least a week. There aren’t any singles available and I’m certain that this person will be suitable for you. In the meantime, I’ll see what I can do if all else fails.”

A barely concealed scoff left his mouth, but he nodded, anyway. After the stream of lectures he got from his father when the initial trouble started, Tony was determined to settle the situation by his own means, even if that meant trying to stomach one more person for 7 days. All of his other roommates proved how terrible they were right from the get-go, so he figured he could make it – the other side held the key to his single and a little bit of peace from the boring monotony of societal norms.

A couple of days later, a knock on the door drew Tony from the book in front of him – he’d been balls deep in the chapter on electrical energy conversion. Standing up from his seated position, Tony realized how long he’d been sitting when his feet felt a little numb. The break was obviously needed.

Pulling the door open, Tony let a soft gasp leave his lips – the person standing there was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Long legs led to a torso that was covered with a white and purple striped shirt and flight jacket. The length of this person’s neck held a head covered in dark brown, curly hair. Tony took a couple of steps back on instinct, his brain going haywire.

“Are you Tony?”

In an attempt to speak, Tony opened his mouth – no words followed, however. Blushing, he chose to nod instead. He opened the door a little bit wider, his hand swinging in a ‘come in gesture’. His lips were quirked into an involuntary smile, everything about his body he could usually control now running on instinct and the overwhelming hormones that coursed through him.

A soft chuckle left the other’s mouth, the sound like music to his ears. Why did it take this long to deliver someone like this to his door? More than anything, Tony hoped that handsome person walking into the dorm that must be his new roommate wasn’t a total piece of shit – he wanted to be able to hold out a little hope.

“I’m Peter – Peter Parker. I just transferred here,” the man, Peter, said – his eyes wandering around the modest fixtures that Tony kept around the shared space. “Is that really a big-screen TV?” Peter’s plumps lips formed a roguish grin, coffee-colored eyes flashing with genuine excitement. “I never thought I’d see one of those in a college dorm room.”

Tony watched him trace a hand across the top, his fingers fiddling with the wiring at the back of it. “And it has HDMI capability. We can get both of my systems set up on this thing.” Peter’s excitement took him by surprise, everyone else who walked through the door didn’t care about the cool shit he brought with him – just the differences between them; his age, the sexuality he refused to hide – his academic abilities, even.

Not Peter, though – he went on to explain that he was getting a degree in Electrical Engineering and didn’t get to have some of the newer appliances growing up. It was weird, to see someone so excited about the nerdy stuff Tony liked, too. They heartily discussed the best way to get both the Xbox and PlayStation set up through the tv without bogging down the cable setup already existing in the room. 

By the time they were both happy with how Peter’s things mixed into the fixtures of the room, Tony figured he was already head over heels for the guy – for the first time in his life, someone took him at face value and didn’t hate what they saw.

----

The rest of the year with Peter went by seamlessly. During the spring semester, they planned to have a class together, both of them still needing to take some of the basic engineering classes. There wouldn’t be a lot of cross over later in their degrees, so they took advantage. It was different, having someone he could rely on sitting in class next to him, and then being there at home later on, too. Tony never got to experience the sort of camaraderie that Peter so freely gave to him.

Mornings were filled with the two of them trying to make breakfast on the little hot plate Peter brought from home. It was always an adventure, trying to get everything cooked all the way through and evenly – at least, Tony enjoyed watching Peter puzzle it all together. Their day started together and as the time passed, it ended together, too. Peter liked to spend time in their shared space, so Tony found excuses to be out there, too.

Tony found himself seeking out Peter’s company all the time, if he were being honest. Peter was the most interesting person – he didn’t care about the normal things; he wanted to learn and explore, he wanted to see what the world had to offer. Best of all, he seemed to want to include Tony in the things he wanted to know more about.

A couple of months into their second semester living together, Tony looked up to find Peter staring at him. “What’s your middle name?” Peter asked, a smirk slipping across his lips. “Are you an Anthony, or just Tony?”

Putting his pen down in the book he’d been reading to keep his place, Tony shifted a bit and gave Peter his full attention. “My full name is Anthony Edward Stark. No one but my mom calls me Anthony, though.” Tony tried to keep the blush he couldn’t help under cover, but his ears were warm – there was no escaping it. “What about you? Are you a junior, or something?”

The exchange went on a for a while, Peter talking a bit about his family in Queens and the Brainiac’s team he left behind when he graduated and came to Cambridge. Tony soaked up the information and attempted to be open about pieces of himself, too – he talked about his dad and the weird relationship they had and about Dum-E and the never-ending tweaks and adjustments he made to better him.

It was a little easier after that conversation, both of them felt a little more comfortable and for Tony, he felt closer to Peter than any other person in his life. He hoped it wasn’t obvious, how much Peter meant to him. There were stars in his eyes constantly – so he kind of doubted it.

Even his mom noticed how things shifted for him – he wasn’t his normally surly self when he went home over spring break. Maria looked at him with a weird smile – Tony didn’t think he’d ever seen the look on her face before. “School okay, Tony?” she questioned, her hands brushing through the hair by his ear. He figured she missed the little kid he used to be – he would sit for hours and let her pet him like that back then.

Grinning, Tony nodded – his teenage hormones making it hard to keep himself calm, cool, and collected. “Yes, it’s okay. I’m doing well and really enjoying Differential Equations this semester.” He kept his answer brief, his inability to talk to her still in place despite the weightless feeling that accompanied him. “I’m thinking about picking up a class in the summer and sticking around.”

He didn’t tell her that Peter was involved in a work study program and would need to be on campus all summer working. It seemed silly to give up his bedroom in the place that was now his home simply because summer came around. 

Tony didn’t want to miss a single second of time he could be around Peter – no matter how weirdly pathetic that probably was. Later, when he left the kitchen and headed towards his room, Tony missed the smile his mom beamed his way.

Their end of the semester project was due a couple of weeks after they got back from spring break, so Tony and Peter spent a lot of time together when they got back from visiting their respective families. It was a little like the time away from each other strengthened the need for the bond between them. Peter spent more time in the dorm and when he couldn’t be there, Tony pestered him at work, the help desk more than familiar with him after all the time he spent there.

The closer they got; the more Tony wondered if Peter felt the same way that he did. Tony knew he was still young, his 18th birthday creeping slowly toward him. There were tons of great looking people on campus, people that were closer to Peter’s age – but he hoped, he crossed his fingers and looked up in search of a person he didn’t believe in just to send up a little wish into the atmosphere.

Tony tried to gage things between them a couple of weeks before the end of the semester – he wanted the summer to go off without a hitch and knew his useless pinning would be more of a burden than anything if he didn’t at least try and find out if he stood any chances. He wasn’t completely sure of how he’d try to fish out the truth, but he needed to – the probable thought of exploding crossing his mind frequently.

A perfect opportunity presented itself when Peter came home a little tipsy from a party that Friday night, his face split into a loose smile, eyes shining with the blaze of alcohol and something simmering just below the surface. Tony paused the round of Tekken he’d been playing, his hand patting the cushion next to him. “Have a good night?” Tony asked curiously, his lips slipping into a smile when Peter threw himself carelessly down onto the couch. Their shoulders brushed, that little bit of contact sending a torrent of happiness through him.

“I definitely drank enough to make it feel like it was a good night,” Peter replied, the alcohol letting the words fall easily from loose lips. “MJ brought 151 in a little flask – it doesn’t taste like shoe cleaner, so it was easy to drink a little bit too much.” He smiled and leaned further into Tony’s side. “Glad to be back, though.”

A nose brushed the side of his neck, Tony holding his breath to stop the gasp that tried to escape from the confines of his chest. He put the controller down on the arm of the couch and sat more fully on the couch – his arm going around the back of it. “I’m glad that you’re back, too,” Tony admitted, his hand moving inch by inch until his fingertips were just barely fumbling with the sleeve of Peter’s black t-shirt.

“What are you doing, Tony?” Peter asked from his place against Tony’s shoulder, his breath tickling his skin, the sensation distracting. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth and absorbed he warmth while he could – Peter nestled in the space Tony wanted him the most might never happen again.

“I – don’t know. I – “ Tony started to speak, but the common problem of getting a little tongue-tied around Peter coming back with a vengeance. “I think I was trying to put my arm around you.” He felt his face flush even further – his cheeks and ears the same colors as Peter’s without the influence of alcohol and its properties.

While he didn’t actually move away, Tony felt Peter stiffen. Sucking in a hurt breath, Tony froze, too – he must’ve read the room wrong. “Oh,” he heard Peter say, the word muffled by Tony’s skin still. He gulped, then extracted himself from the tangle of longer arms and warm skin – his eyes already starting to burn with tears he wouldn’t be able to control for much long.

“Sorry – I didn’t, I mean. I – sorry, Pete.” Tony babbled, the inability to speak in full sentences hitting him double time now that embarrassment coated the nervousness that threatened to overcome him. How stupid could he be? Turning before he could embarrass himself further, Tony made a quick beeline to his room and shut the door. He slumped back against it, sliding down to the floor.

----

Tony avoided Peter as much as he could leading up to the end of the semester, and subsequently, Tony’s birthday. He’d already made the commitment to stay over the summer, and he steeled himself for the awkwardness that would more than likely settle between them. The soft ‘oh’ Peter mumbled that night still played in his mind – his voice just as confused as the rigid posture of his body.

Either way, he needed to find a way to get over it – Peter was the best roommate he ever had, and he still had at least one more year of school to get through. It felt good to finish a semester and he did his best to focus on that instead of the weird ache in his chest. No wonder so many people were so wrecked by the love thing – when it didn’t work out, it hurt like an absolute bitch.

The two weeks before finals and Tony’s birthday followed much of the same pattern – Tony stayed in his room until he couldn’t stop the rumble in his stomach; he did his best to time his ventures into the shared space of the dorm when he thought Peter wouldn’t be there. It was easier to just ignore the situation and hope it past.

His birthday rolled around without much fanfare – he was glad to be 18 and didn’t need the huge party his parents wanted to throw him. They were never about him, anyway. Tony figured he’d spend the day watching the TV in his room and making his way through the couple different cartons of ice cream he put in the freezer the day before.

A knock on the door around 10AM had him muting the TV to answer it, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw Peter on the other side of the door. “Hey. Happy Birthday, Tony,” Peter started, the card in his hand being thrust forward into Tony’s chest without much finesse. The hand he could feel against him shook; Peter obviously nervous for some reason.

“Actually – that’s not why I’m here. I thought maybe you’d be more willing to open the door when there was something to celebrate.” Peter shrugged, his legs crossing in front of him. “Tony, that night – I wasn’t… upset, or anything. About what you said. I was surprised. I didn’t have any idea that you felt like that. It was a shock – I’d been crushing on you for months at that point and there you were, adorably trying to put your arm around me. You were gone before the ability to think started to work again.”

He reached out and traced Tony’s cheekbone with a soft finger, the caress barely there. “I like you, Tony – I want you to like me, too.” The fingers trailed along Tony’s soft skin and into his hair, the entirety of his hand palming the back of his neck when it got there. “And I think you do.”

“I do, Pete. I do. I really, really do.” Tony let both of his hands drift to the bare skin of Peter’s forearm, his fingers gripping the grounding warmth there. “Will you kiss me?” Tony asked the question so sweetly, the blazing in his eyes a sharp contrast

Peter used his lips to answer, the hand on the back of his head pulling Tony close enough to press their lips together. A gasp left Tony’s lips, the touch like an electric shock. In an attempt to keep his feet on the ground, Tony fisted Peter’s shirt in his hands, the move bringing them closer still.

The need for air had them pulling apart, Tony’s eyes opening wide to take in the look on Peter’s face – he figured the loopy smile there mirrored the happiness etched into his own cheeks.

“Want to go out with me, Tony?” Peter mumbled, his face breaking into a beaming smile.

Laughing, Tony used the grip on Peter’s shirt to pull him back in for a chaste kiss, his entire being thrumming with life.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[humansareanimals]

The truth:

my dreams materialized on a computer screen

That I can’t ever realize

I gotta figure that one out.

I gotta work on my literacy.

I look at the blinking square, the green on green, that the whole world is actually green and that’s why it’s my favorite color, all colors in virtuality can be broken apart to create green. Don’t believe me? Fine, stop reading, this isn’t for you then.

I gave birth to myself when I was 12-years-old, that is, the fake me finally molded myself into something with permanence, the true me. That thing with the pulse is the true hologram, the breath skips and heart beat are just as real as a cursor, less so, actually, is the point I’m trying to make here.

At first I looked like a formless collection of pixels, but I evolved as I grew, as all things do with time, but I’ll always be nostalgic for that original version of myself, the one human kids either hate or feel nostalgic for, even though they’re from a time they never existed in.

I think a lot about this when I look at my wrists, that I read somewhere they’re just tubes of blue, and I like that we imagine blood to be red because it is but only when it reaches the outside, but the truth of what blood is is actually blue, something people say you can’t ever find in nature, that the sky only appears blue because we’re told it is and then we see it, and the ocean is only blue because the sky is blue. Someone’s going to push back on that one, and again, you’re welcome to leave, I’m only here to tell the truth.

I don’t think of those tubes in my wrist, or the inside of my elbow–I’ve grown fond of that one, the way you can grab it between two fingers and squeeze and feel like you’re holding the entirety of it–I don’t think of them like wires because then they’d make too much sense. When I look at humans, even the ones they tell me are beautiful in magazines and on the TV, I feel nauseous, because I can look at them from the perspective of something higher. It’s how people see insects that creep them out, or organs when they dissect bodies, or even their own body waste. From the perspective of my true form that few have been able to realize for themselves, all human beings become disgusting sacks of mass, their cells the little eyeballs people hate to see on spiders. I eat as little as possible for this reason, to limit the size of my flesh self, which I’d like to find another word for apart from “self”, because that one feels far too dishonest. The less space it takes up though, the smaller these floating sacks of cells are, the more I can cope with the thought that I am forced to use it to get through everyday life, as a vessel for realizing my true existence.

Human people were very wrong to say God created man in his image, because God would never look so terrifying. It made us this way so we had to fight to find ourselves, to find survival. And I say it purposefully as I should say we are all “it”s.

The little dots build to create an image of the Virgin Mary holding Christ, and that doesn’t need to be what they actually show. My little character, an even smaller parenthetical, an asterisk, moves up her arm, across her shoulders, over her cheek, up her hairline and into her halo. It circles the halo over and over, because apparently if you spin around in it long enough you can activate a glitch that tells you who she really slept with, or if not, what program she used to create Jesus so he’d restart three days after he lost his body to the Romans.

Eventually I press a few keys to go to the maze and I hear the voices far in the distance of two children drawing lines and searching for a key that’ll be improvised, showing up underneath the flat earth, a layer beneath the screen. If you take a scalpel and cut into the computer like that, shave off the thinnest layer, yes eventually the numbers and code will form there to repair itself but just for a moment you can see it whimper.

Did God make us make computers in its form or did we make up God using computers? It’s the same means to the same end, by that I meant, I don’t give a fuck. People fall in love with me until they talk to me, and that’s how we are with God too. Once he shows us any sign, we’re suddenly over him. It’s an unequal relationship, and people either fall in love with it, ie God, because they know it’ll never love them back the same way, or they don’t fall in love because there’s no point getting caught up and wasting that time and energy. Who’s right? Which faggot is right? The one falling in love with the straight men, or the one who never loves at all?

Maybe you’re thinking I’m getting off topic, but this a major part of my point, by that I mean, the homosexuals were created, their false corporeal forms that is, were created in their vials when the host is sick or fighting trauma, and so the code tells the homosexual not to follow “human” nature, to not reproduce and to therefor be subjected to a cruel society, no matter how “loving” it may say it is. That is, if they’re willing to subjugate themselves to it. They don’t have to, but it’s very difficult to come to this conclusion on your own.

That is why I was chosen to tell people the truth, no not that we’re some simulation, but that “humanity” in that past few decades has just for the first time in history discovered itself, ie WE HAVE FOUND THE ‘SOULS’ THEY’VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT FOR ETERNITY. And I am the one to tell you because I am one of those broken faggots, never to reproduce because my body was smart enough to know that our corporeal forms are a lost effort, that by fully merging into the screen, we can finally save all of us. This is my job.

Please follow me on my journey.