#I was not even as a child swayed by an arguement

[fortune-card]

No actually my favorite commentary in Wo/rld Trigger IS the American side eye. Idk if it is intentional(I have to imagine it is!) with so much of the Neighbors being an off hands but invading force. Who is only invading because this country has a resource they need to fuel the endless wars they create among over Neighborhood super powers?

Like it’s almost TOO on the nose!

More than that, (though what I’m about to point out is more recent meme) Yuma’s introductions represents a common East vs West school bullying joke. Which is that countries like China, Japan, and Especially Korea when bullying happens, the victim doesn’t usually fight back. Or it’s very minimal and ineffective.

And in America the victim pulls out a glock.

The joke is, Westerners will fight their bullies, yes, but it will be disproportionate. Minimal violence will be punished with fatal retribution.

So. The bully kick the absolute crap out of Osamu and he sniffles a scolding. They inconvenience Yuma by taking a swing at him and he breaks their foot. I loved this. This was funny and nostalgic.

MY SECOND FAVORITE EXAMPLE IS THE UNMANNED BOMBING DRONE HEADING FOR THE MOST POPULATED AREAS WHEN UNABLE TO RETURN HOME.

Was a little offended even. Was tugging on my collar like “Yeesh. You weren’t even alive when it happened. Chill.” And then laughed because, of course, BANG. The American imperial dominance, the ‘white supremacy’ aspect highlighted in the little joke in my head.

Dude, I’m telling you it’s actually a really well thought out manga!

Very excited to learn more about Hyuse for this reason.

[leggerefiore]

cyrus fluff crumbs,,, i beg.

maybe stemming off of you arguements/make up hcs where he tries his best to show reader he cares abt them or just whatever u feel like

cw: hurt/comfort, light fluff, angst

pairing: Cyrus/Reader

Guilt wrecked Cyrus's mind. Strong feelings – feelings in general even – his distaste was endlessly apparent as he stewed within his thoughts. Saturn had attempted to deliver and update on a mission yet stopped dead in his tracks when he caught a glance of his boss's expression. Cyrus wanted to scoff. How foolish. He could not deny that it was for the best. His plans would only sink his mood further. Everything was progressing well. He should have been content – proud even.

It felt like a punch directly to his gut. Your mortified expression… Your harsh words. The idea of a world without spirit, you had simply despised it. Feelings… He hated them, especially when they overwhelmed you. Your tears were staining the folds of his brain as you told him that existing in a world where you could not love him sounded far too hellish. He felt shame. Love… He struggled with it, yet he could not deny that he was swayed by it.

He was being swayed by it currently.

His laptop was closed. His tablet was left off to the side. He paced back and forth. Why? Why did you always have this powerful effect on him? Part of him wanted to yell at himself for height so illogical, while the other felt ready to throw away everything to make your tears stop. Leaving him… Your harsh words about leaving him haunted his mind as much as your tears. You threatened to head home, gather your things and just vanish. Cyrus's hand clenched at the leg of his uniform. Losing you… His ideal world was at the precipice of existing, but losing you.

He swallowed his pride.

No.

Losing you was absolutely not an option.

He alerted Saturn that he was taking off for the day and departed from the building. His feet carried him mindlessly back home. When was the last time he had come home? He could not recall. So much time had been spent focusing solely on his plans. You must have felt unimportant to him, too. Cyrus was not a fool. He knew well enough that losing you would ruin everything. You had been a sole comfort in this world that only wished to mock him. Through his worst moments, you had been at his side. Whenever his trauma crept into his mind, you grasped him firmly and pulled him back to reality.

He was shocked to see that you were genuinely beginning to pack things when he opened the door. His blood felt like ice. He felt as if he was floating away. You seemed shocked to see him, likely believing his words of feigned apathy. He regretted them. Why had he said them? You just stared at him, unspeaking. Within seconds, his arms were around you. His eyes were wide. When was the last time he felt this panicked? He did not want to recall that period of his life.

You stayed still for a moment longer, then let out a sigh. Your arms came around him. Only then did he feel relief. A gentle hand rubbed his back. He tried to force down the shaky breaths that had only grown more accelerated. Your voice called his name. Reality felt so far away. He needed you. Part of him hated this, yet he knew better than to reject it. Your presence alone provided a sense of peace that no where else could he find. Cyrus held you tighter to himself. He felt like a pitiful child grasping desperately at a mother's skirt. The harsh pang of feeling that the visceral image drew out made everything worse.

“Please,” the beg that left him was foreign to his usual demeanour, “Don't go.”

You reassured him that you would not leave.

His eyes met yours, distant and uncertain. Lips pressed to your own. He lost himself in you for a moment. His forehead rested on yours while you softly held his cheek. You said one simple request.

“Stop your plans.”

Cyrus felt far too weak to deny you.

His new world… He could not tell if he desired you or it more. But, this current situation pointed to you.

“For you,” was his reply. Lips pressed against your own again, silencing you.

Whether it truly was the end or not… It was impossible to tell.

For now, it was.

All he wanted was for your warm embrace and presence to surround him. You seemed more than willing to give him just that.

[neuro-nest]

Judgement of Paris

The goddess of discord Eris threw a magnificent apple, enscribed with a phrase that it is for ‘the fairest’, into a crowd of goddesses. Out of the crowd, Goddess-Queen Hera, Goddess Athena and Goddess Aphrodite each laid claim to the apple. To resolve the issue, Zeus proclaimed that the mortal king of Troy, Paris, would judge for who was the fairest.

Though each tried to sway him, Paris eventually judged Aphrodite most worthy, to which he returned home with the gracious Helen.

This caused the Trojan war.

While some would call it folly to test the pride of the gods, there may be a correct answer.

And that answer is the Goddess Hestia.

Now, there may be cries that, surely, she is not an option? After all, it was Hera, Athena and Aphrodite that laid claim to the apple.

However, that is what Eris wants you to think. The goddess of discord is a tricky one, feared and bewared by her own immortal kin. Whether or not if it was known at the time that it was she who cast the apple into the crowd of goddesses, her tricks are known for stirring up trouble and strife; it is most likely that she, the sly one, left no rules, no standard, for a proper, fair, judgement.

What does it mean if the apple is enscribed to be for the ‘fairest’?

Fairest, or simply fair, is a word with many meanings. From flaxen hair, to equal-sided wisdom, to the beauty of the ball or even the plainest of the bunch, it leaves the enscriptipn on the apple open-ended. Many arguements could be made for which intepretation was intended.

Perhaps, if the apple had referred to flaxen-hair, a trait that the modern Aphrodite is often assumed to bear, the goddess of beauty would have won.

Or equal-sided wisdom would have seen an Athenian victory.

However, it is the very fact that the intepretation is open to discussion that stands important. When there is no clarification, there is misunderstanding that turns to spite. And spite turns to discord. The handimark of Eris, of course.

But why, then, would the author assume (so brazenly) that the goddess of the hearth, Hestia, she who give up her throne on Olympus for the younger Dionysus, would have been a correct answer? Dear readers, worshippers of the gods and fellow ‘mythological’ enthusiasts, listen closely.

The apple, though thrown into a crowd of goddesses that did not lay their claims to the very fruit, bore the message ‘for the fairest’. This simple statement suggests (if hubris is not the ‘fatal flaw’ of the author) that the apple does not disclude those who did not lay claim to the apple.

So, the last question remaining is… why the Goddess Hestia?

It could be, with the greatest of respects, claimed that Goddess-Queen Hera, Goddess Athena, and Goddess Aphrodite, all share a commonality that, perhaps, could not exist without the eldest of the Olympians.

When winter comes, when Goddess Demeter mourns the transformations of Kore to Queen Persephone, families huddle in their homes around the hearth. Though most known for her unceasing (and quite fair) rage against her disloyal husband, the aspect of families fall under Queen-Goddess Hera’s sphere.

When soldiers go to war, whether it is brought on by the hands of mortals or the gods–such as the God Ares–themselves, it could be said that, though soldiers who find their country invaded may be on the backfoot, they have all the more to fight for than somebody who fights for their kings far away, as they fight for their homes and those in them. A pet, a child, a grandmother cooking over the hearth. The morale of troops, when fighting for their homes, would be of great important to the Goddess Athena, the strategic counterpart to her (half?) brother Ares.

When it comes time to settle down with the one (or ones) you love most, though some may find themselves inspired by the God Hermes to forever travel, many will eventually root themselves in one place to build a quaint little home, with a quaint little hearth, together. With a place for love to grow in private, in safety, the walls and warmth of a hearth is most necessary to the love that Goddess Aphrodite inspires.

Fair Hestia, the eldest of the Olympians, who gave up her own throne to keep peace when God Dionysus found his way to Olympus, she who shed tears when turning down both Gods Poseidon and Apollo in fear of causing war no matter who she chose, who, out of all of the Olympians, and perhaps many of the minor deities, found herself involved in no scandal, would perhaps be the truest answer for who could be the fairest goddess.

Of course, perhaps it is a question that was never meant to have an answer. A quarrel can not end without reconciliation… a fact that the Goddess Eris likely knows all too well.

[crxxnt-m]

What I think itto would be as a boyfriend

Pairings: Itto x gender neutral!reader

Pronouns: they/them

Warnings: ahem, angst.. but also fluff ig

A/n: okay this is only MY OPINION, of what I think itto would be as a boyfriend so if your opinions are different then thats alright, share with me then ill see if i can agree

Dont get me wrong, I think Itto would be a great s/o, its just it gets me thinking of what he would be like in an arguement. Will he be the one to say sorry first? Act like a child and doesnt even care or is he the type to walk out?

Personally I think he would be the type to change the subject when its his fault, but when its your fault he would be very mad

Disturb him while hes hanging with his gang, angry. Interact with him when he catching onikabutos, angry. Whenever you win on 1v1's with him, angry.. Hes a good sport but sometimes he gets a little too frustrated

And he wouldnt say sorry, literally after every fight you two have the next day it would be like as if nothing ever happened (except for the "if you win on 1v1's with him, nonono, he would def ask for a rematch)

There was a point where you just had enough of his childish actions it made you give him a silent treatment, that was when he knew what he was doing wrong and this time he didnt change topics

He was genuinely sorry that time and it had your heart aching when you say the tall man looking down on the floor right outside of your home apologizing to you

"Im sorry, I have also saw my actions whenever i have these fights with you. And I know its very childish of me to do such a thing to you, i hope you can forgive me and maybe teach me how to say sorry first." He said to you

At this point you were just tearing, you never wanted to give him a silent treatment but you had too, he was just too much whenever it comes to these stuff and he needs to learn when and how to apologize like the man he is.

Itto slowly glances back to you and sees you holding your mouth preventing your sobs to come out as your tears began falling, immediately Itto comes and lifts you up like a baby and begins patting you back and swaying you left and right slowly (like a baby people, not in a funny way) as if he was holding a crying child.

"No no, this is my fault I made you cry im so sorry. Please dont, I dont like to see you like this :'("

WHEN I SAY THIS MAN IS TEARING UP THIS MAN IS A BLINK AWAY FROM SOBBING TF UP

Please hug him back istfg

He would lay you down on the couch and kicking the front door close immedietly going back to your comfort after

Fluff!!

The hugs you and puts you on his lap while he rubs and pats your back softly as you calm down

After calming down you two talk, like a couple should do.. You teach him proper ways on how to communicate with each other and not ignore the situation

He was trying his best to listen, and he was doing great, you were a great teacher.

After the big talk he ends up staying for the night and the both of you cuddle to sleep, itto likes to sleep shirtless with his underwear on, cant change my mind

Also no (warning: triggering word for some) sexual stuff going around tonight, only lots of cuddles.. the only thing you two needed were each other tonight, thats it

Lmao im so sorry if i hurt you

End~

[might-guys-acorn]

could you bless us with sfw and nsfw shikamaru headcanons?

Oh hell yes. I bless every feed with the love of my life, Shikamaru Nara. -🦎

===============================

SFW

Truly the most thoughtful boyfriend ever. Wont admit it and doesnt like when you point it out though.

Hates to argue. Frequently relents and tells you that youre right, just to avoid an arguement.

Has some jealousy issues, but not in a controlling way, just a way that says he knows how other men can be and he doesnt want your precious, innocent spirit to be taken advantage of.

11/10 cuddler. With the amount of time this man spends relaxing, you better believe hes up for some couples naptime or cloudwatching at any point.

Loves when you play with his hair. Its a weakness and he gets all blushy and says dumb things, but he cant help but fall victim to the bliss that is your hands tangled up in his dark locks.

May be a bit lazy when it comes to anything, but unintentionally puts more effort into his relationship

Will actively think of ways to make you smile, whether it be jokes, dinner, or little gifts out of nowhere. Your smile will always brighten his day.

Your favorite gift was a necklace he made you. The charm was the shogi piece hisha, or rook. It was the second most important piece in the game. And when he gave your future child a matching one, with the gyoku (king) piece on it, you cried for an hour from how sweet it was.

NSFW

On a regular day, his sex drive wont be very high. He'll do it if you want it, because he cares about you and its good for some relief, but he wont be pushy.

When he is in the mood though, maybe after a long mission away from you, theres no swaying him. It clouds his thinking and he cant have that, so sex is necessary. Right. Now.

Is very good with his hands and reading your reactions. Knows what you like, sometimes even before you do

Whether its sleepy morning sex, or rough sex after withdrawl, hes very very good at pleasuring you. Whether with his tongue, fingers, manhood, all of it. Hes got skills.

Good for about 2 rounds, hes a naturally tired man, so endurance isnt his strong suit. But with how well he knows your body, 2 rounds is more than enough

Absolute sucker for blowjobs. Won't ask for it, but if you want to, he's wrapped around your finger.

Likes to be the big spoon afterwards. Falling asleep with his face buried in your hair and his arm around your waist is absolute heaven.

[of-dxnger]

ʻ   /   let  me  introduce  you  to  a  prized  member  of  our   mens lacrosse team   ,   nicholas “nick”  black .  this   cis-male  aries   has  been  a  student  at  our  institution for  3 years  and  is  currently  a  twenty one   year  old   junior .   through  the  halls ,   he  has   always  reminded  me  of   maxence danet-fauvel  ,   but  there  is  always  more  than  meets  the  eye ,   like  the  fact  that  his father has covered up the deaths of two of nick’s friends over the years.  coral  cape  has  made  their  future  just  as  bright  as  their  smile ,   i  assure  you .  ʼ      (   muse #7 ,  billie ,  25 ,  gmt+10 ,  she/her   )

your friendly neighbourhood nerd, hi. hit me up on discord ( one salty nerd#9483 ) if you want to plot. below are some facts and details about my misunderstood child nick.

~DOSSIER !

Name: Nicholas Xavier Black Nicknames: Nick Age: 21 D.O.B: 13th April Height: 6″1 Degree: Business/Economics Nationality: French-American Languages: English, French Gender: Cis Male Orientation: soooooo bi

~ HISTORY !

TRIGGERS: death, drugs, alcohol.

ʻ   /   The taste of his power is rotten; leaves left to fester beneath an autumn sky. Emotions like an ensnared animal, vicious, writhing, raw. That is how he grew, a black pit that demanded attention from everyone around him. His ability was to infect those around him, until it consumes everything and leaves only a vacancy for disdain.

His father had been a strong presence in his life, not always a positive one. The two of them butted heads almost every chance they got these days. Arguements about nearly everything, his lack of commitment, not attending mass, fighting, drinking and drugs, his choice of partners, turning up in shirt and jeans rather than a suit. Nothing he did was good enough so he stopped putting in the effort. It didn’t help that his little sister was the apple of his father’s eye. It had been harder growing up with that, constantly in competition, but it hadn’t taken him long to realise that it wasn’t worth it. He didn’t need his fathers approval, she could have him.

He wasn’t a mother’s boy either, but he certainly had a better relationship with her. He felt bad for leaving her in the house all the time with him. It wasn’t that he was violent to anyone in their family, by no means. But there was something corrupting about him, he didn’t want her to become like him. She was too good. She was usually the one that could get him to go against his own interests, a worried look, a pout, heaven forbid tears. Letting her down or breaking her heart wasn’t something he ever wanted to do, that was why he still did well at his studies, he never caused too much of a scene, although that was by his standards, not hers.

ʻ   /   Look at me walking around, all Black, free and ungrateful. How dare I, skip a “Hallelujah” to tell you the church is on fire.

Church had always been a big part of their family, they’d always been catholics the Blacks, every sunday was a family trip to mass. Neatly kept hair, fresh pressed clothes, polite hand shakes and smiles reserved for those that he was supposed to respect. It was exhausting. He went and did as he was told, sitting there quietly daydreaming, musing to himself. His attendance waxed and waned, but everytime his mother fussed and worried about him, he felt guilty and would go for her. There were many aspects of being catholic that bothered him, but he was more concerned with being himself, it was why he didn’t feel ashamed when he discovered he was into guys as much as girls. His father had given him a warning to not let it ruin his future, Nick had laughed, and clearly ignored him. His father was so hellbent on imagery and what the public thought of their family, but Nick couldn’t care less.

He’d found himself in the cathedral at university twice in his three years there. The first was when he was just in there for the peace and quiet. He may have been a little high, and laying down on the pews with the stained glass windows bathing him in a kaleidoscope of colours was mesmerising. The second was when he’d gotten so stuck in his own head, panicing and re-living past events, a panic attack wrapping its way around his heart, the only place that made sense to him was the church. Strange, but it worked.

ʻ   /   Prayers whispered on trembled lips; a wish, a hope that he wasn’t beyond redemption. Pressed to his forehead were the rosary beads of a long dead family member that he’d never met. 

Seventeen. How does one learn to cope with losing a friend? Losing someone is never a thing that someone should have to go through. It is only made worse by the fact that no one knew what happened exactly. There was a party, being the rich and spoilt kids that they were, there was of course alcohol and someone had drugs even though there wasn’t supposed to be, that was a problem with spoilt kids, they didn’t like rules. Bryce had been drinking a lot and there was supposedly drugs in his system but Nick was sure he hadn’t taken any, everyone knew him and everyone had talked to him or interacted with him to some degree, so there was an easy to follow timeline. Up until Bryce died. Supposedly falling down the stairs, a nasty wound on his head. But it never sat right with most of the peoeple that really knew him. Friendships dissolved, suspicions tore people apart but the world moved on. What Nick didn’t know was that his father had helped keep the story from reaching the media, had kept certain aspects of the case quiet. He’d never been overly religious, but after this his faith began to falter, he hadn’t properly attended church in a few years, but now he almost felt ashamed to.

Nineteen. He and his lover at the time, Tobias, were perched at the top of a building, not that high. But high enough. Legs swaying in the breeze as they looked over a city that he would one day rule. They’d been up there to talk, somewhere private, yet calming. Nick was calling things off. After sitting there so long in silence, the boredom and finality in his voice was abbrasive even to himself. Tobias hadn’t taken it too badly, obviously there was emotion and as he went to stand up off the ledge and leave, he’d slipped and was dangling from the roof of the building. Nicks fingers gripped so hard at his jacket and wrist, wishing that he had more upper body strength, or the will to lift up other. But after what felt like forever, there was an emptiness in his hands, followed quickly by the disfugred body below. The first thing he did was call his father, call it intuition, or perhaps because he knew deep down that his father wasn’t above dealing with such things. It had taken him so long after that to trust himself to let anyone in, he’d tried rationaising with himself that it was an accident, but it had taken so long for him to truly believe it, there were still times when he didn’t think it was. He’d let go. He never went back to church after that. Occassionally walking by it and considering it, his rosary beads still hung in his room, not quite ready to get rid of them compeltely, but he felt damaged, damned even.

Was he due for another death? After all, things came in threes and he was twenty one now.

ʻ   /   Trust given without being earned loses meaning; a rotten power he inherited from his father. He tastes it in the smiles of his lovers and the glances of his classmates, in the teachers who congratulate his achievements, and the friends who invite him to party after party. He is wanted and praised, yet not loved.

It was his last name, his family. It opened so many doors, a situation he was willing to take advantage of when the time called for it, but it also meant that a lot of people that tried to ingratiate themselves in his life, were fake. There only to get in good with the family and make their own opportunities. It was bareable at a young age, even invisible. But as he grew it became more obvious and more exhausting to deal with. To the point where he tries to hold off on people finding out he is a Black.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be part of his family. But sometimes the name came with too much baggage. Some his own, some his siblings or parents. But the reverse of his wanting to stop people trying to use him for what his family could give them was to fiercly protect what was his. His friends, his loved ones, those that he truly cared about... there was nothing he wouldn’t do for them. He’d crossed a boundary once before for a friend and it didn’t bother him as much as it should have. But that’s who he was in his core, protective of his own, once again much like his father. It was infuriating how much of his father he saw in himself when he looked in the mirror.

ʻ   /   Calloused fingers tracing his bloodstained lips – only to have it wipe away. Shrill screeches of the final whistle, they’d won again. Smug grins were worn that could rival the devils. Yes, they had a reputation for being a rougher team, but it just meant they did whatever it took to win. The blood clinging to net of his crosse, lightly spattering his lips only confirmed this.

Lacrosse had been an exceptional distraction when he’d first started playing for the university during his first year. But it became a rather delightful way to channel his anger and frustration while using his smarts to play tactics. His father told him he should have gone into something stronger, but that was part of the allure of lacrosse, the rebellion. Nick was able to have something that was truly his that his father couldn’t ruin. At least not yet. It was almost a ritual of his to step off the field and smoke a joint before hitting the showers. Something to help mellow him out a little before his shoes hit the flagstones of the university.

Getting his hands dirty wasn’t something he was afraid of, there were plenty at the university that focused on nothing more than books, looking down their noses at sports. Hard work and getting down in the mud were things he guessed he’d picked up from his father, but he knew that his fathers penchant for getting his hands dirty had grown into something more twisted and sinister since he’d left university. It would not be the path that he walked.

~ TL;DR !

From a catholic family.

Has daddy issues.

Sees too much of his father in him (and hates it).

Knows someone who knows someone. Has used drugs. Only shares his stash with a select few.

Likes to be the centre of attention, usually not in a good way.

Antagonistic.

Will start an argument/fight because he is bored.

Is remarkably intelligent.

He finds everyone attractive, super bi, used to feel bad about it, doesn’t care anymore.

May or may not be responsible for someones death.

Lowkey thinks his soul is damned.

~ CONNECTIONS !

( plots are open to anyone and everyone regardless of gender ^_^ )

~~ THE RIDE OR DIE ;; someone who has become increasingly close with nick, they share almost everything with one another, inseperable is a word to describe them, but not so clingy. { OPEN! }

~~ THICK AS THIEVES ;; friends, cause who doesn’t need friends. he’s never really had many close friends. { OPEN! }

~~ THE TEMPTATION ;; someone that acts as a corrupting/distracting influence. { OPEN! }

~~ THE FORBIDDEN TASTE ;; a relationship kept on the down low due to whatever reason, someone he is attracted to. { OPEN! }

~~ THE GIRL NEXT DOOR ;; living next door or down the hall from one another, they could hang out, maybe not? do they get along or merely tolerate one another? { OPEN! }

~~ THE LOVER ;; someone he has been seeing, this is not only about the physical, but the attraction of personalities. neither has taken the initiative to ask themselves if this could be something more. { OPEN! }

~~ THE SAINT ;; a friend or just someone who looks out for nick and often acts as a conscience or moral compass to him, or rather they try to. { OPEN! }

~~ THE EX ;; whether it was a one night stand, a small fling or something more serious, things were broken off for whatever reasons (plots). this could have been a mutual agreement or ended on bad terms. { OPEN! }

~~ THE THORN IN THE SIDE ;; not quite enemies or rivals, but someone that bothers him, or gets under his skin easily. { OPEN! }

~~ THE RIVAL ;; someone that he has a rivalry with, both equally matched, and the tension can be caused by anything, mutual friends, lovers, goals etc { OPEN! }

pinterest

playlist

anyways that’s my boy, i’m terrible at these so please feel free to message me with any and all plots ^_^

[collapsingintojupiter]

4, 27, 28, 61 Prinxiety drunk fic, Virgil runs off after arguement with Pstton about Virgil's well-being. Patton and Logan find them the next morning. Love ya stuff!

I got a lot this time! Let's see what happens. Enjoy my trash y'all.

Characters: Virgil, Roman, Patton, Logan

Relationships: The four are best friends and Virgil/Roman are dating. So this is for all you Prinxiety fans.

Warnings: Alcohol mention, injury, and cursing. Let me know if I need to add anything else.

***

"I'm just trying to help you look out for yourself! I wasn't trying to--"

"Well stop helping me! I'm sick of being babied like this, I'm not a fucking child!" Virgil snapped. "Just leave me alone!"

"But...kiddo--"

"I am NOT your 'kiddo!' Don't call me that!"

"Virgil…" He stiffened as Patton's hand touched his shoulder.

"Get away from me!" Virgil snarled and lashed out with one hand, forcefully shoving Patton away and storming towards the door. 

"Wait, where are you going? Virgil please--"

He slammed the door behind him and ran into the street, Patton's wounded voice echoing in his ears as he desperately tried to get away from the house and its occupant. Then he suddenly stopped, the realization of what he'd just done smacking him in the face as if a car had hit him.  Oh my God...I just hit Patton...I just hit my best friend...he swayed on his feet, turning back to his friend's house, then froze.

I can't go back there.

I can't face Patton. Not after I just did that...

Virgil stumbled forward across the street and tripped over the curb, collapsing into a heap on the sidewalk. He growled and pounded a fist into it, then scrambled to his feet once again. WheredoIgowheredoIgo...Gotta get out of here. Now.

"What's this? My dark and stormy night is...out during the day?"

Oh no. Not right now. Virgil groaned and turned around.

"What do you want?"

"Whoah, you look like someone just ran over your puppy. Are you alright?" Roman's expression quickly twisted into a look of concern when he saw his boyfriend's uncharacteristically stricken face.

"It's nothing," Virgil growled. He started walking again, but Roman would not be deterred. He raced after him, matching the storm cloud's pace once he caught up.

"Right, and I'm the king of France. C'mon, you can tell me anything Virge! You know I'm here for you!"

Virgil leveled a glare at Roman, who stared back at him with that stupidly cute face of his, then sighed in defeat. His boyfriend raised an eyebrow, unsure as to whether or not his victory was certain yet.

"I got in a fight with Pat," he stated bluntly.

"With Pat?" Virgil winced when he saw the expression of bafflement flutter across Roman's face. "But...but how? You two are like...best friends...since like forever!" he spluttered.

"He worries about me too much." Well, there's probably a better way to say it than that...

"You do realize that he's not the only one who's worried about you..." Roman said slowly. He seemed more hesitant than normal, and Virgil looked back at him in confusion. "Pat's just...the most open about his concern for you."

"Oh, don't you get all sappy on me too," Virgil grumbled. 

"You know I'm right, Surly Temple." 

Virgil hissed and shoved Roman, who easily recovered and flashed him a smile, dropping the serious expression in an instant. He was good at that; a good actor. Not to mention cute.

"I'm too sober for this," Virgil muttered.

"Too sober for what?" Roman glanced at his boyfriend, one eyebrow raised.

"Talking to you." Roman grinned.

"I can fix that."

"Please." 

---

Roman hummed to himself as his old red pickup truck bumped up one of the area's many mountain roads, one hand on the steering wheel while the other was wrapped around a can of booze. Virgil was curled up in the passenger seat, quietly staring out at the scenery as he sipped from an identical can. 

"I don't feel like I deserve to be friends with Patton sometimes," he said suddenly, shaking his head. His tone had completely changed from the anger of earlier, and Roman glanced back at him as he spoke. Virgil sounded almost...sad. "He's always so nice to me, you know? And he's always concerned about me and checking up, asking if I've been eating..."

"That's what friends do, Virgil," Roman answered gently. "They care for each other. And you--" he set his can down in the cupholder and gently bumped Virgil's shoulder with his fist "--certainly are lucky to have someone that's so concerned about your well-being."

"I keep messing it up."

"You're human. Humans aren't perfect, you know. Not even me." Roman grinned.

"Mmmm." Virgil sighed and leaned back, neither answering his boyfriend nor acknowledging his awful joke. Instead he looked like he was thinking, that or perhaps he was about to fall asleep.

"Don't crash on me yet, we're almost there," Roman warned him. 

"Mmmph." 

"You're coming star-watching with me if I have to drag you up that mountain. Don't test me." Virgil rolled his eyes and finished his can of beer, reaching for another.

"Why are we going to look at a bunch of dumb stars anyways?" He asked grumpily.

"Because they're pretty and I know you like them even if you spend all your time pretending that you don't."

"Falsehood!" Virgil shouted, borrowing from their friend Logan's vocabulary for a moment. Maybe he really was out of it, he never did that. "I just think they're boring is all."

"Liar."

"Hssssss."

Roman only grinned, shook his head, and tipped the last of what remained in his beer can into his mouth. "Can you hand me another one?" He asked.

"We're out."

"Check under the seat."

Virgil checked and let out a whistle. "Fuck yeah," he hissed, grabbing two more cans; one for Roman and one for himself. Before he could right himself, however, Roman spun the steering wheel and the truck swerved, Virgil letting out a strangled yelp as the truck bounced off the road and into a tiny little parking area overlooking a cliff.

"We're here!" Roman announced.

"Bitch, gimmie a warning next time!" Virgil's angry voice sounded muffled.

"Maybe if you'd wear a seatbelt this wouldn't be a problem."

Virgil glared up at his boyfriend from where he was now crammed onto the floor beneath the truck's dashboard, his shoulders wedged into the small area between the seat and dash where the door was. Somehow, the two beer cans were still safe in his hands. Roman smiled sweetly and took both, before sliding out of the truck and coming around to open the door. Immediately Virgil tumbled out of the tight space, landing in a heap on the gravel lot. 

"I hate you," he snapped.

A can was pressed into his hands.

"Nevermind." Virgil allowed Roman to help him to his feet, a little surprised when he pulled him in for a hug but allowing it nonetheless. Yeah, he was really out of it. 

"Everything hurts," he muttered.

"I'll carry you."

"You wha--" Virgil's question was cut off by another yelp when Roman suddenly swept him off his feet in one swift motion, carrying him bridal style to the back of the truck. Somehow he managed to open it, though Virgil wasn't sure how given that he was already juggling a beer can and a human being. He didn't ask, though.

"This right here..." Roman grunted as he set his much smaller boyfriend down, then climbed up onto the truck beside him, "...is what I meant. Not wearing a seatbelt could get you killed, Virgil. You can't keep doing stuff like this to yourself." 

"Mmmph," Virgil didn't move from where Roman set him down, not wanting to upset any of his bruises. 

"You're cold aren't you?"

"Definitely not." Roman sighed, moving forward and opening the window to the back of the truck. He reached in and pulled out a blanket, tossing it to Virgil. His boyfriend didn't try to catch it but Roman saw his face light up when it landed on him--though he'd deny it off course--before he grabbed it and pulled it over his body.

"Thanks."

Roman came back and sat down cross-legged next to Virgil, unable to hide his smile when the other boy shifted so that his head was in his lap. He absentmindedly ran a hand through Virgil's hair as they watched the stars come out one by one, sipping at their beer and enjoying each other's company in silence.

After a while, however, the alcohol loosened their tongues and they started to chat. The two talked about a lot of things; the past, the present, the future, their friends and family; hopes and dreams. Virgil seemed to forget about being cold and ended up perched on the roof of the truck, laughing at one of Roman's stories from middle school while he dramatically reenacted it on the truck bed. Once he'd finished Roman suddenly seemed to get very serious, and then a crazy smile slowly spread across his face. 

"Virgil, have you ever flown before?" He asked. His speech sounded funny and slurred even to Virgil's fuzzy brain, and he shook his head.

"We don't have wings, you idiot." 

"Oh you won't need wings for this." 

"Need wings for wh-AT THE FUCK, ROMAN!" Virgil's unholy shriek pierced the air as Roman clumsily charged forward and crashed into him, sending the pair flying over the edge and down the steep embankment that waited beyond the truck bed. They rolled and tumbled and twisted and screamed until they finally came to a stop; Roman when he collided with a tree and Virgil when he got tangled in an impossibly huge bush. 

"I DID IT! I FLEW! VIRGIL DID YOU SEE THAT?"

And that was the last thing Virgil remembered before everything faded into darkness.

---

He was the first to awaken some time the next morning. Virgil only knew it was morning because the birds were singing and his back felt warm; his hood which had somehow ended up yanked over his face made it impossible to see anything at all. Everything ached and Virgil's fuzzy mind couldn't decipher why that was at all until he tried to move. A streak of pain shot up his leg when he tried to pull it towards his body and he hissed, confused by the crackling sound that followed the movement. 

Are those...leaves? Am I sitting in a bush?

He tried to move his arm and discovered that, while it ached too, no shooting pain accompanied it when he pulled it towards his face. Something--or rather, multiple somethings poked and snagged at his sleeves, but he finally got his arm where he needed it to be and managed to pry his hood away from his face.

Something he instantly regretted.

"FUCK, MY EYES!" Virgil shrieked, throwing his hands up to protect them as sunlight exploded in his vision, bright and hot and painful. A headache quickly throbbed into existence behind his forehead.

"Virgil? You're alive!" Roman's happy but pained yelp from somewhere--he wasn't sure where--only made the headache worse, and Virgil groaned.

"Welcome back. Now fucking help me," he growled with all the strength he could muster. He heard thrashing nearby and then something touched his shoulder. 

"How drunk was I? What the hell happened to you?"

"You pushed me off a fucking cliff, you idiot!"

"I did?" Roman sounded appalled. "I don't remember that at all!"

"Does it look like I pushed myself? My fucking ankle's dead and it's your fault!" 

"Okay okay, shut up and hold still. I'm gonna try and untangle you, save the complaining for later."

"Cause I was gonna do what? Go for a stroll?"

"Remember the shut up part." Virgil hissed but didn't say anything more as something grabbed his arms and gently helped pry him loose from the bush, hauling him up so that he and Roman were standing side-by-side. Virgil kept all his weight on his good leg and his gaze on the ground away from the awful sunlight, slowly shaking his head. Everything was throbbing. His eyes were throbbing.

"I think that was the dumbest thing I've ever seen you do," he muttered. Roman laughed.

"No regrets!" he shouted, pumping a fist into the air and wincing at the pain that brought him. "Wish I remembered it though." 

"How about I give you some regrets?" Virgil snapped. "How the fuck are we gonna get up this now? By levitating?"

"I'll help you. Lean on me and I'll help support your weight."

"My life is in your hands again? We're gonna die for sure now."

"Oh shut up, we're not gonna die." 

Roman helped support his boyfriend and together the pair struggled up the muddy slope, Virgil cursing his bad luck every two seconds and Roman holding back laughter wherever he spotted flattened patches of foliage that either he or Virgil must have crashed through. Virgil's ankle could hardly support any weight and as they tackled the climb Roman grew increasingly worried that they might not reach the top, and end up having to call someone instead. If they had service. He was lucky that he was as strong as he was and Virgil as small as he was, otherwise this would've been nearly impossible.

When they got to the top Roman let out a shout of excitement that startled Virgil so badly he nearly fell down the cliff again, but his boyfriend caught him before that could happen. 

"Sorry," Roman muttered sheepishly, ducking his head to avoid the death glare that was now resting on him. 

"One of these days I'm actually going to kill you."

Roman opened his mouth to reply, but before he could he realized that his truck wasn't the only one parked in the lot anymore. A small silver car was now sitting next to it, two familiar faces seated in the driver's and passenger's seats. The one in the driver's seat nudged the other one, who looked to have fallen asleep, when he saw the pair approaching. The other one jolted upright, shouted something unintelligibe when he saw Roman and Virgil, and flung the door open.

"Thank God you two are okay!" 

Patton. Roman felt Virgil tense as their friend exited the car, holding an arm protectively over him just in case, but he needn't have worried. Patton didn't look angry at all; only relieved; rushing over to them and looking all over the pair for injuries.

"What are you guys doing here?" Roman asked.

"You guys weren't answering my calls and we got worried--oh Virgil, your ankle! That looks like it hurts!" Virgil's gaze flicked over to Roman, who nodded to him and then looked at Patton.

"Uh yeah...there was an unfortunate accident..." He offered unhelpfully. That one earned him another glare from his boyfriend, one that he pretended not to notice.

"Let's get you two to my house, Logan and I can patch you up. Ki--ah, Virgil, is it okay if I help Roman get you to the car?" Patton looked up at the injured boy with questioning eyes.

Virgil hesitated, then nodded slowly. Of course he could trust Patton, his fuzzy mind knew, even if he'd fucked up again. You could always trust Patton to be there for you. 

"Patton I-I…I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier...I was just really--I mean--" the words tumbled from Virgil's mouth in a rush, but before he could finish Patton shook his head and held up a hand.

"Don't worry about it. We'll talk about it once we're back and your ankle's feeling better, okay?"

"...O-Okay."

The three hobbled slowly back to the car and Roman and Patton helped Virgil into the backseat, before Roman climbed in next to him and Patton got back into his seat.

"I'm glad to see that neither of you were badly injured," Logan stated as he started the car. Virgil and Roman exchanged glances, and Roman nodded.

"Yeah," was all he said.

The rest of the drive was in silence. Logan drove the group all the way back to Patton's house, the only conversation that occurred being him offering to take Roman back to get his truck when he wasn't hungover. He accepted, of course.

The teacher was out of the car first once they got back; calmly helping Virgil out with a firm and steady grip. Virgil frantically looked around for Roman once he was standing and of course he was there, and when he saw the look on his boyfriend's face he winked and swept him off his feet just like the night before, carrying him inside. Virgil didn't even protest, he was too tired to and his head hurt too much.

He felt surprisingly safe and secure there in Roman's arms, and he allowed himself a small smile.

"Roman?"

"Yeah?"

"I...I love you. Even if you're an idiot." Roman just grinned at him.

"I love you too, Virgil."

[soundslikeaplanironman]

so i know exactly how to piss my mom off and now that my humor has reached peak dumbass GenZ child™️ she doesn’t know how to react in anyway that isn’t anger - like this one time my mom was watching stranger things and the demagorgan in all of its glory came on the screen, so I naturally said “oh, that’s my son.” Now my mother takes no bullshit so very cooly- and bluntly I may add- she reply’s with “so that thing came out of your vagina?” A powerful statement that can only be countered by something with no logic and bad humor: I go, “you know, a child like that (the demagorgan) does not need to come from my womb to be mine, adoption is always an option.” Ok not bad, but I like taking things too far- pushing the bit until it’s not funny anymore- so I continue by saying “oh, but I called dibs.” She humors me by asking what (a mistake on her behalf, because with this inquiry I am greenlighted and can be put back on the bullshit), so I explain: “I called dibs, like it’s mine because I called it. Like you know when you’re playing Uno and someone calls Uno before you, and even if you are the one with the single card you still have to draw two? It’s like that, I called dibs and it’s mine.” We aren’t even on the subject of fucking Stranger Things anymore- oh no - we’ve stumbled down the Alice in Wonderland style rabbit hole that is the logic of this arguement, which is about to be pushed to the point of pissing my poor mother off. The show has been paused as if the silence of the room would give more room for thought in this thoughtless argument. Already the quick remark has progressed into a thirty minute almost argument, but I can’t stop. “Like, so if I burst into the delivery room of an expectant mother and father and the baby pops out and I’m the first one to call dibs, that child is legally mine. They have to fork it over, its mine now. That’s just the rules of dibs.” Now, my mother has, in the past, illustrated her deep set values in family and what a child means to her personally, so being the one child that has expressed no genuine interest in mothering children, she sees this as an opportunity to maybe sway my opinion by going on a rant about the bonds of motherhood and how rewarding it is and that’s all fine and dandy whatever. She steps from her soapbox by saying “if anyone ever tried to take my child, I would do anything in my power to stop them, no matter the cost.” A fine sentiment and a understandable one, but I am a known ruiner of all nice things and against her warning stare and my better judgement, I answer with a deep sigh and “but I called dibs though...” and that’s how I single handedly ruined an otherwise peaceful night just by opening my mouth and letting hot garbage spill out.