#bro shut the fuck up. you have no clue how stupid you sound. sorry to break it to you but you’re not that Unique and Special sweetheart

[rafescoke]

Never sent a request idk if I do this right. Been to lazy and not good lately and honestly I just need a good fluff. The basic plot where he is in a bad mood like angry and then he turns to his lover etc etc. Do your thing I just need some comfort and love!

Cupcake ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Maybe making cupcakes with a girl he likes won’t be a bad thing

Warnings: Slight angst on the earlier part, cursing, substance, extreme fluff, adorable Rafe Cameron

A/N: I hope you're doing good, sending all my love and hugs @ you <33 remember to rest!!! @asimpwriter

p.s; you know the drill - send any requests!

"Fuck off," Rafe sighed, shutting his eyes against the bright chandelier above the dinner table. Since when did it got so bright? The last time he checked, it was dimmed. "I swear Sarah, say one more word and I'll fucking kill you."

"Rafe," Ward sighed, placing his cutleries down onto the expensive wooden table. "It's family time. Excuse your sister."

"She's hanging around with those stupid pogues, dad!" he groaned, not wanting to believe that his dad was on her side. Not that he was ever on his, but he thought his father would have the same mindset as him towards this topic.

"Let. It. Go."

"They're my friends," she breathed, and Ward closed his eyes again, knowing the screaming that was about to occur. "I'm sorry you're stuck with Topper-"

"Didn't you cheat on him?" he laughed, and turned to look at his dad. He mouthed at him with an amused expression, "She cheated on him."

"I didn't, and we broke up 2 weeks ago. I'm sorry he couldn't move on from me," Sarah shrugged, and Rafe watched as she put aside her green beans and offered some of the mashed potatoes to Wheezie.

How could she act so normal about this?

"Oh, and-" Sarah turned to Ward, and Rafe waited impatiently for the lies that was about to slip from her mouth. "Do you know that he does drugs?"

"Sarah!" Rose yelled, furrowing her eyebrows as Rafe laughed out loud, clapping his hands loudly that the sound echoed throughout the huge house. "It's a family dinner!"

"I don't give a fuck about this family," Sarah said, removing the napkin from her lap and quickly standing up to get out of the house. Ward didn't say anything, neither did Rose, and after a few seconds, he let out a sigh.

"This is getting out of hand," he started, clasping his hands. "Rafe, I'm no longer letting you take over my business."

Rafe stopped his movements, looking at his father with widened eyes. After all those time he spent at college, trying to make his father proud and to take over the business, only for this?

"Dad, you can't. She's lying, dad, I haven't been using drugs."

"I saw the stash, Rafe," he sighed, and Rafe thought about the space under his bed. He closed his eyes, muttering a ‘fuck’ when he finally remembered the empty space. He didn't think much about it earlier, thinking about how he must have used up all of the powder.

"Until you get your life back on track, or nothing at all."

"Dad-"

"Go find your sister, and bring her home."

"Dad, please-"

"Go find Sarah."

"Okay," he sighed, standing up immediately and letting the chair scraped the polished floor. Wheezie shifted uncomfortably at the sound, and Rafe had an urge to do it again, just for the sake of riling his father's anger.

He cursed silently, walking away towards the table and to the porch, all while thinking about the joy if he could destroy the Pogues' life for making his hard.

The drive from Figure 8 to The Cut took him 30 minutes at high speed and being fully caffeinated, and when he arrived at the Chateau, all riled up from the quarrel with his father that he had before, he didn't try to see if his sister was even in there before barging into the small home.

"Yo, what the fuck?"

"Where's Sarah?" he muttered, giving Kie his side glance and continued searching for her. "Where the fuck is she?"

"Yo, bro, this land is off to the kooks," JJ stepped in, eye to eye as he leveled up to Rafe's height. He was only an inch shorter, but the difference was apparent. He continued to place his hands against his chest, whispering slowly. "Especially to crackheads like you."

Rafe laughed, tilting his head to the back to release the tension building up in his body. He was so, so close to give the blonde boy the consequences of his words, but was halted when Sarah entered the room, hand in hand with John B.

"What are you doing here?" she groaned, walking forward and standing in front of him. "God, can't you leave me alone?"

"Oh, trust me, I rather do that more than anything especially-" his eyes trailed to John B, "When you're fucking with a trash."

"JJ-" Kie stepped up, pulling JJ's shirt to stop him from doing anything. She sighed, knowing that this was bound to happen anytime soon, and she had told John B about this before, but he didn't listen. Now it was like her job to protect her friends from Rafe.

"Leave," Sarah stated, her lips pulled into a tight grimace. "Leave before I'll tell dad about this."

"I'm just trying to protect you," he ran his fingers through his hair, making it more messier than ever. Why couldn't she get that? All he was doing - it was all to protect her, so that his father could see him for what he's worth.

"You know what?" he sighed, wrapping his face with his large hands and turning towards the exit. "You wanna be one of them? Go. Don't ever come back home. You're just another trash, anyways."

He wasn't sure if he meant them, or if it came from the heat of the moment. All he could think about was to run away, to hide and to never come out and face his father or the judgement put by everyone else. He felt an uneasy feeling rising in the pit of her stomach, but he was too proud to say sorry.

“That was useless," he thought, leaning over his motorcycle and blinking his eyes against the lights by the side of the road. He couldn't go back now, not when his father had just ordered him to bring Sarah home and he had failed to do so, and he couldn't go to Barry's; his dad could find him there if he search for him the next day.

He groaned, feeling the cold air nipping at his skin until the final thought occurred to him. He laughed then, not sure as to why he hadn't been thinking of that sooner, and soon he was in front of the mini apartment.

He rapped on the door and waited patiently, his heartbeat quickening. He looked at his watch, checking if his arrival was too late. He groaned, noticing the time, but it would be embarrassing for him to turn now.

(Y/N) was trying to figure out what colour should she put into the frosting mixture, her hands on her waist when she heard the knock.

Her head instinctively looked at the clock, frowning when she read the time. It was not that late, only around 10 p.m., but she was not ready for any guests or her friends to come over.

Had she been too loud that the cranky neighbor next door who sleeps early everyday had come to tell her off?

She sighed, lowering the music coming from the radio before making her way to the door. She was in nothing but her ribbed top and a pair of sweatpants, and her hair was messier than ever.

"I'm sorry, Jerry," she sighed, opening the door to greet the old man. But standing in front of her was not the grey-haired man with furrowed eyebrows, ready to scold her, but it was the boy she had been crushing on since forever instead.

"Rafe?" she exclaimed, and she couldn't deny the shock spreading through her veins at the sight of him. He was sweaty, like he had just been in a fight, and his shirt was sticking to his body. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, I'm sorry, can I come in?"

The smell of freshly baked cupcakes wafted into his nostrils, and he noticed the drool in his mouth. He didn't eat dinner that much, being forced to chase after his sister, and all he wanted was to enjoy some good food and get a good sleep for the night.

"I'm not. . . we can't. . . I'm not prepared for anything-"

"It's okay, I didn't come for sex," he bit his lips, trying to contain her amused laughter at her statement. "We're friends, (Y/N), aren't we?"

"Yeah," she raised a brow, not grasping at the way he was playing his words. She allowed him in, asking him to sit by the kitchen counter and checking her porch outside to see if there was any cameras in case he was trying to prank her.

Rafe Cameron never contacted her for anything if it wasn't for sex.

"What are you making?" he pointed at the mess on the kitchen, and (Y/N) tried to hide her red face as she quickly tried to put the stained bowls and cutleries into the sink.

"Uh, cupcakes."

"Yum," he chuckled, liking the way she was so nervous around him. The truth with (Y/N), she was extremely wild in bed but also very shy outside. It was like a complete two different person, but he was always intrigued by this.

The first time they had done the deed, he was shocked when she got into control, and he would lie if he said he didn't enjoy it. That night was one of Rafe’s best nights, the starting point to the many after.

"Relax, (Y/N)," he laughed, watching as she tilted a cup and placing his hand under the table to catch it before it could break. (Y/N) yelped, struck to her position, and let out the biggest relief when Rafe put it back to its previous place, safe as ever.

"Why are you so jumpy?" he whispered, sneaking beside her to help with whatever she was doing. He hadn't got a clue about this whole baking thing, only watching Cake Wars for the drama, but he wanted to help the girl beside him if it means he got to spend time with her.

"What are you doing?" she muttered, glancing at Rafe's hands as he whisked the fluffy frosting. "Rafe, you're going to get it more clumpy."

"No, I won't."

"Rafe, I swear," she groaned, reaching over to grab the whisk only for him to turn around, laughing while she struggled to get him.

"I'm just making it more fluffier," he smiled, continuing to whisk the mixture without even looking at the white colloid. He was too busy looking at her, and he wondered if she knew about the small amount of flour powder that had gotten on the top of her nose.

"Was the coke good?"

"Huh?" she tilted her head, confused, and still angry at the way he was not listening to her.

"The nose. Was the coke good?"

(Y/N) gave him a look before going to the corner to stare at herself in the mirror, letting out a yelp when she saw the powdery stain on her nose. She quickly dusted them off, stalking back to the still-whisking boy, and she wondered about the amount of energy he had in him and how he was still not tired.

"Rafe! It's all clumped!" she sighed, finally having a hold on the large bowl. She took her a finger and tipped it into the mixture, pulling out before slipping the finger into her mouth. Her face scrunched up, and she reached for the glass of water by her side.

"What? It's more prettier. More texture-ish. If we're in Cake Wars, we'll be the winner."

"That's not how it works," she groaned, pouring the failed mixture into the sink and letting the water cleansed them off. "Now my cupcake's going to be naked."

"You know what can be naked too?"

She held up her middle finger, placing the wet bowl onto the counter and using the clean cloth to wipe it dry. "And I'm not giving these to the children's home naked. You have to help me, Rafe."

Rafe felt a smile tugging on his lips at the mention of 'children’s home', and he thought about how perfect could she be. She’s the epitome of the girl everyone wants to be - she's good in school, never using anyone's money for her, good at baking, and has a big heart?

He thought about how she's good in bed too, but he tired to shake the childish thought away.

"What can I do? Should I go to the store and get any Betty Crocker's frosting?" he offered, his hands in his pocket to reach for his keys. He watched as her shoulder slumped, and he felt bad for ruining her cake. He touched her shoulder, "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't know it would actually be clumped. I thought it would get even more fluffier."

"You don't think, Rafe, that's why," she sighed, "But that's alright. Do you think you can help me make another one?"

"Are you sure? I don't want to ruin anything," he backed away, glancing at the sink and thinking about the clumped mixture making their way to the sewer.

"Yes. Can you reach for that sugar? That's flour, Rafe, god, yes, yes, okay, c'mere," she rolled her eyes, taking the container from him and dumping the content into the dried bowl. "Now, what do we do?"

"Put water?"

(Y/N) laughed, tilting her head to one side, trying to clutch her stomach from hurting. "Yeah, if you want the kids to get sick."

"Okay, Gordon, what should we do next?" he grunted, but he liked the lightness in the air. How the conversation flowed easily, and how quick he regained her trust to help her make whatever this is.

It was like she didn't care about the Rafe Cameron that gets into fights with the pogues or snorts coke when he's stressed. He felt like staying in this moment forever, wanting to help her bake whatever and watching her smile.

(Y/N) handed him the butter, muttering something along the words of 'dump them in', 'use the mixture', 'you're going to break your arms' and 'watch while it's whisking'.

He didn't care about the many orders she was giving him - he enjoyed it. He truly liked how his night was ending after a long day of bullshit, starting with his college sending him a letter for the vandalism he had caused outside of the Dean's office, Kelce and Topper going on a road trip without him and giving him the explanation of 'we asked you, and you said no'.

In truth, he didn't even remember anything about meeting them. His memory was starting to fade, and he shuddered at the thought of not knowing anyone when he reaches Ward's age.

"Okay, that's enough," she groaned, switching the button off. Rafe apologized quickly, being so caught up with his own thoughts, and waited for her next order.

"Choose the colour," she exclaimed happily, pointing out two different food dyes. "I can't choose!"

Rafe skimmed over the label that said 'blue' and 'pink', and made a face. "Are you going to give the blue ones to the boys and the pinks to the girls or something?"

"What? No?"

"Okay. . . why can't we just use both?"

"And make purple?"

"Yeah? Hey, look, I'm wearing blue and you're wearing pink!"

(Y/N) looked down to the ribbed top, noticing the colour, and her face turned into a red shade. Now everything's going to be awkward.

"Okay, purple it is," she rolled her eyes, giving him the blue bottle and taking the pink one for herself. "Three drops together. Are you ready?"

"Mhm."

"1."

Rafe licked his lips, so eager to watch the colour forming.

"2," she looked at him, and back to the frosting. "Rafe!"

"What?" he raised a brow, following her gaze and watching the blue dots on the frosting. He put his hand over his mouth, too stunned to say anything. "Oh my god, I'm so-"

(Y/N) laughed out loud, this time with her hands gripping onto the kitchen counter to stabilize herself, her mind rewinding back to his expression when he found out what he just did.

"Ha-ha, now you're just being an asshole," he rolled his eyes, but he was glad he had made her laugh. Instinctively, her laugh had made him feel better, and all of his worries dissipated into the air.

After a while, she tried to get ahold of herself to put the pink drops in, but failing to do so as his face kept appearing in her mind. Rafe groaned, having to wait for a few minutes now, and pulled her to feet. He pushed her against the counter, her back against his front as he trapped her.

"Don't laugh."

(Y/N) bit her lips, being in this position but not for what they usually do, and concentrated on dropping 3 drops of pink into the bowl. She cheered when she was done, pulling his hand away to move to the other side. The back of her neck was still hot, and she could still feel his arms around her.

"Mix it," Rafe smiled, leaning against the counter to watch as the mixer whisked the frosting, turning the pearly white colloid to a beautiful dark purple.

"It's dark!" she groaned, but she thought about how it still looked good, though it wasn't her expectation. Her job was almost finished now, and she could hear her bed calling.

"Now, the fun part," she smiled, taking her icing materials and placing them before his eyes. She watched as he laughed, being so excited as if he was a toddler seeing a playground for the first time.

"They used these in Cake Wars," he said proudly, showing her a nozzle.

"Stop with your Cake Wars," she mumbled, preparing the icing bag and giving Rafe one. "Put some frosting- not yet, Rafe, God, do you ever wait? Don't fill the bags too much, just in the middle, yes, just like that, and, wait, let me do mine."

She showed him how to do the perfect icing, practicing on a clean plate and asking him to do the same. He scoffed at her, saying how he got this, but what appeared was nothing more than a crooked line.

"That's nice," she muttered, sighing. "For a coming-out party."

Rafe groaned, trying to copy her artwork, and by the time it was 12.03 a.m., he had managed a copy of hers. Not literal, but there was a hint of hers in his.

"Okay. Now, Rafe, we'll make this quick. I do 80 cupcakes, and you do 20. Is that okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, concentrating on his piping bag. He watched as she did the first cupcake, ending her icing perfectly and exclaiming happily as she put it aside. She looked at him, waiting.

"Don't look at me, you're making me nervous," he mumbled, and leaned to decorate the cupcake. It took him a total of 2 minutes, stopping at times and getting a yell from (Y/N), saying how he should not stop, and the result was impressive. At least to him.

"This will probably be in the rejected part of a bakery, you know, that they'll sell with a discount."

"Not everyone can do arts, (Y/N)," he rolled his eyes, but he truly enjoyed the joke.

It was nearing one in the morning when Rafe saw her sighing in relief, placing the last cupcake into the pastry box and safely storing them in the refrigerator. Her hair was in a bun, he had helped her put them up, and when she refused to let him help her, he gave her a poke.

"What? It's not like it's my first time putting your hair up."

"God, Rafe, you're impossible."

His eyes were almost shut, being so tired after being a cake decorator, and all he wished for was to pull her into her bed and sleep until the morning greets them. He waited until she was done cleaning all of the utensils, walking tiredly towards to him to wake him up.

"Get change, Rafe, I'm not letting you sleep in my bed with that shirt and that sweatpants."

"It's not a problem before," he mumbled, allowing himself to be pulled by her to the bedroom. He removed his shirt weakly, pulling off his sweatpants and jumping into the bed as soon as she closed the light. (Y/N) giggled lightly, noticing how adorable he was being, and she pinched his cheeks before she could stop herself.

"Take off your clothes."

"I'm not going to take off my clothes," she laughed, pulling down her shorts and getting into the bed beside him. She finally laid her back against the mattress, letting out the biggest relief ever as she tried to get comfortable.

He pulled her close towards him, breathing into her scent. She smelled like cupcakes, and he loved it.

"I'm going to the children's home with you."

"What?" she pulled a face, because she wasn't sure if she had heard him right. There was no way Rafe Cameron would ever step his foot into a children's home, what more to give out dark purple cupcakes.

"I'm going to the children's home with you. To give them cupcakes."

(Y/N) smiled and kissed his cheeks. "Okay."

"And we should do this again."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Goodnight, Rafe," she laughed lightly, placing another peck before closing her eyes.

He placed a long kiss fully on her lips, feeling the butterflies soaring in his stomach. "Goodnight, (Y/N)."

-

taglist is close atm until i figure out wtf is up with tumblr :(

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[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

You said to put a rebuke prompt in here sO what about a sickfic? Luke is sick and Reggie and Bobby try to take care of him but then Reggie gets sick and all that's left is a grumpy Bobby who is tired of their dumbassery

Sorry this took so long. I hope you like it!! My first try at rebuke, but hopefully not my last ;)

read on ao3 here!

--

The minute Bobby gets to school, he knows today’s going to be kind of a disaster.

His first clue? Luke’s not there yet. He’s not exactly late, and isn’t in any real danger of being so—it’s only 7:30, and the first bell doesn’t ring until 7:55—but if Bobby’s being honest, he can’t remember the last time Luke wasn’t early. Usually, by the time Bobby gets to school, Luke’s already bouncing around the halls somewhere, playing his guitar in the stairwell or pretending to flirt with girls outside the library or trying to break into Bobby’s locker because Bobby refuses to give Luke his combination.

Luke doesn’t like school, but he likes being at home even less. And at least at school, his friends are there.

His friends are there now—two of them at least—but Luke isn’t.

It just doesn’t bode well for things to come, in Bobby’s opinion.

“Hey,” Reggie says when he meets Bobby at his locker, blindly bumping Bobby’s fist as he glances up and down the hallway. “Luke’s not here yet?”

“Guess not.” Bobby shuts his locker and shoulders his backpack. “Alex still home sick?”

“Think so,” Reggie confirms with a nod. “He said on the phone last night he was gonna try to be back today for a Spanish test, but I don’t know, he sounded pretty rough.”

Bobby grimaces. “Better he stay home and not infect the rest of us. He can always retake a Spanish test.”

“Yeah, but you know Alex.” Reggie shrugs. “If he’s not back, can I come over tonight? Since we won’t rehearse, I mean, just—just to hang out?”

A smile pulls at Bobby’s lips as his stomach does a weird, not unpleasant, flip flop. “Yeah, man, of course you can. Luke too?”

Reggie grins. “Of course!”

Bobby nods and turns back to his locker, fiddling pointlessly with the lock so that Reggie won’t see him blushing.

It’s not that he doesn’t like Alex—he does, a lot—he just… likes Alex as a friend. And he likes Reggie… and Luke… more than that… or differently… or something.

It’s stupid, and hell if Bobby knows how to put the damn thing into words, but… he figures the more time he gets to spend with just Luke and Reggie, the better. Even if it means taking advantage of the few times Alex isn’t available to make plans.

For the next twenty minutes or so, Reggie and Bobby hang around his locker, talking about their gig coming up in a couple weeks and the math homework Bobby didn’t do and whether it’s likely for Bobby’s finicky TV to be working well enough for them to play Super Mario Bros. after school today.

At 7:52, just when they’re starting to consider giving up and going to class, Luke appears at his own locker, about halfway down the hall.

“Hey, there you are!” Reggie calls, bouncing over to him. “We thought you weren’t gonna show up today.”

Bobby follows, and the closer he gets to Luke, the more dread bubbles up in his stomach. Luke slumps against his locker, not even reacting to Reggie’s words. He looks pale and flushed at the same time, his nose and cheeks an alarming shade of cherry, and his hands tremble slightly as he tries to put his locker combination in.

Bobby stops short a good ten feet away as the pieces fall into place in his head, and before he can think of the right thing to say, what comes out is, “You look like shit.”

Luke’s response is a little delayed. When he does raise his eyes to Bobby, they’re glassy and dull, and his self-deprecating laugh and mumbled little, “Thanks, Bobs, that’s real nice,” come out so painfully hoarse that Bobby swears he feels his own throat sting in sympathy.

He takes another step back. Luke doesn’t just look terrible; he looks contagious.

Reggie, it seems, has no such reservations. He sidles right up to Luke and slings an arm around his shoulders; Luke immediately leans back into Reggie’s hold, his expression crumpling with relief like maybe he was having trouble holding up his weight on his own.

“Aw, Luke,” Reggie coos, rubbing Luke’s arm. “Did you catch Alex’s cold?”

“No,” Luke grumbles petulantly, and then contradicts himself by coughing into Reggie’s shoulder (Bobby flinches). “Maybe,” Luke amends. “But it’s Alex’s dumb saliva’s fault.”

Bobby’s stomach flips again. This time, it’s a little unpleasant. When have Luke and Alex been… sharing saliva?

“Well, Luke, bro, you shouldn’t have taken a sip of his drink when you knew he wasn’t feeling well,” Reggie chides, parental but for the most part unconcerned.

Luke pouts. “But he had a milkshake, and I couldn’t afford to get my own, and it seemed like a good idea in the moment, it was yummy!”

Relief surges through Bobby so intensely he almost feels faint with it—so Luke and Alex weren’t kissing. Okay. Good.

Not that he should have any say in what his friends do with their mouths on their own time, he just… he’d like to know about it ahead of time, if at all possible. Maybe be involved himself sometimes, that’d be nice.

Again. Stupid.

“Why are you even here?” Bobby asks, and it comes out harsher than he meant it to; Reggie and Luke both look up at him, frowning. He clears his throat and tries to soften his tone. “I mean. You should’ve stayed home, if you’re sick.”

Luke grimaces, and reluctantly pulls out of Reggie’s grip when the bell rings shrilly above them. “Mom wouldn’t let me,” he says with a wet sniff, yanking his locker open and grabbing a stack of books seemingly at random. “I didn’t have a fever, and I may have been known to fake a cold to get out of stuff once or twice… a month…” He shrugs, and drags a wrist under his nose. “Guess I wasn’t convincing enough this time.”

“This wasn’t convincing?” Bobby’s backed up another few feet, unable to take his eyes off Luke’s dripping nose, which he just wiped with his hand—God, who raised him? How and why in God’s green earth does Bobby ever find him attractive?

“In Mrs. P’s defense,” Reggie says cheerfully, “Luke’s really good at faking.”

Luke slams his locker closed. “Whatever, I’m fine. Let’s just get to class, Bobby. We’ll see you later, Reg.”

He starts, stumbling, down the hallway, toward the history class he and Bobby share. Bobby and Reggie exchange a look behind his back—Reggie’s is concerned, Bobby’s more than a little disgusted.

“Keep an eye on him, will you?” Reggie pleads. “Just until I see you guys at lunch?”

Bobby glances over at Luke, who’s paused a little ways down the hall to have a coughing fit into the crook of his arm—sleeveless, of course. “How close an eye are we talking?”

Reggie’s smile turns tolerant. “Please, Bobby? For me?”

Well, fuck, what is he supposed to say to that? He nods, stammers out a reply, and turns toward his classroom, just in time to see Luke careen forward with a spraying, uncovered sneeze.

Bobby shudders, hefts his backpack a little higher on his shoulder, and tries not to breathe.

“He better not get me sick,” he grumbles to himself, and goes to drag Luke into class.

***

They get about fifteen, twenty minutes in before Bobby starts to think, yeah, no, no way in hell this is gonna work.

Luke is struggling.

First of all, he can barely sit up straight and keep his eyes open, much less pay attention to the lecture, so Bobby highly doubts he’s learning anything. He sniffles more than breathes, coughs more than talks, and gets up out of his seat to get a tissue from the front of the room so often that their teacher Mrs. Carroll eventually just nods for him to take the whole box back to his desk.

Every time he sneezes, Bobby cringes and scoots his desk a few more inches away. Every time he coughs, Bobby sinks lower in his chair, trying to surreptitiously pull the collar of his hoodie over his mouth. Every time he blows his nose, and just leaves the dirty tissues sitting in a gross little pile on his desk, Bobby wonders how the fuck they’re even friends.

When the bell rings, Luke slumps back in his chair and coughs into a fresh wad of tissues for a full minute and a half, while their classmates file out of the room around them, giving Luke grossed-out looks as they pass.

Bobby doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed on Luke’s behalf, considering they’re totally justified in their disgust. Mrs. Carroll catches his eye from her desk at the front of the classroom, and before she can so much as mouth, Maybe you should take him to the nurse, Bobby nods and holds up a finger as if to say, No, yeah, I’m on it.

“Hey,” he says, kicking the leg of Luke’s chair. “Pack up your stuff, sicky, you’re going home.”

Luke frowns at him, tissues still held over his face, muffling his already stuffy protest. “What? No, I’m—”

“Shut up,” Bobby cuts him off. “I don’t care if you claim you’re fine, I don’t care if your mom will be pissed, you look and sound like shit, I’m taking you back to my place until someone can pick you up. No arguments, you hear me?”

Luke just looks at him for a moment, and Bobby worries he’s going to fight back again, but then something shifts in his expression, and he just looks so tired all of a sudden. “Yeah,” he croaks. “Yeah, okay, I—I think that’s probably a good idea.”

Bobby lets out a breath. “Good. Me too.”

It takes longer than it should to get Luke out of his seat and to the door, even after Bobby takes his books from him so that all Luke has to carry is his box of tissues. Mrs. Carroll writes them both hall passes, and doesn’t fight Bobby when he says he probably won’t be back for her government class in the afternoon.

They walk slowly down the school hallway, Luke leaning heavily into Bobby’s side so he doesn’t stumble. Bobby almost manages not to think about the germs Luke is almost definitely passing to him, because his own health doesn’t matter as much as Luke’s right now. Bobby’s worry for him is hotter, more present, in his chest than any anxiety or germaphobia.

And that worry only grows when they get to the nurse’s office and find Reggie sitting on a plastic-covered bed waiting for them.

“There you guys are!” he says cheerfully, grinning and swinging his legs like a kid. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d last the whole period.”

“The hell are you doing here?” Bobby asks as he guides Luke into a chair.

“Felt like I was gonna throw up,” Reggie explains, then gives Bobby an exaggerated wink he doesn’t understand.

“You did? Are you okay?”

Reggie’s brows knit together. “No—Bobby, that’s just what I told Miss Ellison so I could get out of English class. I wanted to meet you guys down here so I could go with you when you leave.”

Bobby frowns. There’s a lot going on today, he doesn’t have a whole lot of brainpower to spend on Reggie’s riddles. And he’s definitely missing something here.

Apparently, Luke is just as confused. “Wait,” he croaks, sniffling and slumped over in his chair. “You’re sick, too, Reg?”

Reggie rolls his eyes. “No, Luke, not really. I just pretended so that I could go home with you guys. You are going home, right?”

“Yeah, he barely lasted one class, he’s not staying the whole day,” Bobby says, ignoring the petulant glare Luke shoots him.

“Then I’m going with you.” Reggie glances nervously between them. “Unless… you don’t want me to?”

“No,” Luke says quickly. “No, I want both of you. Please.”

Reggie grins. Bobby’s stomach flips.

“Fine, I guess we’re all sick, then,” he grumbles, ducking his head to hide his blush, and points to Luke and Reggie each in turn. “Stay there, I’ll be right back.”

It’s unfairly easy for Bobby to convince the nurse to let him drive Luke and Reggie home, since they’re both “so sick” (he doesn’t even have to pretend to be sick himself. The nurse takes one look at Luke and agrees to let Bobby go with him for no reason, if only to get his germ-ridden friend off school property).

It’s a little less easy to call Emily Patterson at work and explain to her that he’s Luke’s friend, no, ma’am, he’s really sick, I don’t mind taking him back to my house until you get off work, yes, ma’am, I’ll make sure he gets all his homework, etc, etc, etc.

Reggie’s parents don’t even pick up. Bobby has a fake conversation with “Reggie’s dad” just so he can tell the nurse with some level of confidence that Reggie’s been given permission to go home with him, too. He’s not sure she believes him. He doesn’t think she cares.

“You’re gonna get sick,” Bobby says when he returns to find Luke lying on the bed with his eyes closed, head in Reggie’s lap, sniffling into Reggie’s pant leg while Reggie strokes his hair back out of his face.

“I think he’s got a fever now,” he says, which is not at all a response to what Bobby said. “Are we ready to go?”

Bobby gives a resigned sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

***

As Luke gets worse, he also gets clingier. Which, really, Bobby should’ve expected. It’s one thing in the car, where Bobby can roll the windows down and focus on driving while Luke stretches out all over Reggie in the backseat, coughing and sniffling and ignoring Bobby whenever he reminds him to cover his damn mouth.

Once they get back to his house, though, Bobby washes his hands about fifteen times in a row, then heads into the studio with the intention of recommending that Reggie do the same, only to find Reggie and Luke curled up on the pull-out couch together, fast asleep.

For a minute or two, Bobby just stands there, watching them. Both of them idiots, one of them disgusting, and yet… god, he loves both of them so much. How fucking stupid is that?

Luke’s gonna get Reggie sick, if he hasn’t already; that’s just an inevitability at this point. And then one or both of them is going to get Bobby sick, and it’s going to suck, because colds always hit Bobby super hard for no good reason, which is why he tries so hard to avoid catching them.

But a few days of misery is worth it, he guesses, if he can spend today taking Luke’s temperature and rubbing his back and forcing Vitamin C on both him and Reggie until they’re both sick of him.

And at least, whatever happens, he can blame this whole thing on Alex.

--

Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @teenagedirtbag-dot-jpeg @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @molinapattersons @julieandthequeers @joyandthephantoms @it-tastes-like-lizard @jatpfs

[yes-another-obey-me-blog]

I did a thing

So you all know when I made that hcs list about omega Mc dealing with the bros fighting.  well I sorta made a fic out of it, I thought you guys would’t like it cause it was like the Solomon fic.  But now its just sitting here and now I’m like fuck it Imma post it so here ya go!

TW for this post! Abuse(mentioned), Panic attack, Bros fighting and it gets violent. 

GN Omega Mc dealing with fighting bros, Mc x Diavolo if you squint once again Mc has no contracts at this time, Belphie is in the attic.

It was the same issue different family, the clashing voices, the throwing of books, glass shattering, and the smell of pissed off alpha.  It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen alphas fight for dominance but, it was the first time you’ve seen demonic alphas go at it. “U-um g-guys the meeting going to start soon so maybe we should all just take a breath and-”

“You stay out of this omega!” Mammon screeched glaring at you then snapping his eyes back to Lucifer.  "I’m sick and tired of being treated as a second rate alpha, I’m done being called scum, and I’m done with your sadistic punishments!“  Lucifer, regal as ever just brushed his brother off and continued to take the files out for the meeting.

“Quit your whining Mammon, I don’t have the time nor the energy for it.”  Lucifer looked your way and rolled his eyes, he’s yet to accept you in his pack.  he could care less about how you feel but, he should try to keep you calm a panicking omega would be another headache.  "and control your self you’re scaring the omega, you scare them and it will cause trouble for Diavolo.“

"Why is Diavolo all you care about!”  Mammon roared pulling his arm back.  You moved before you could think, one second your a safe distance back and the next your gabbing Mammon’s arm to stop his punch.  The smell of nickel and copper with an iron tang hit your nose.  You’ve never smelled Mammon pissed but you assume this is his scent.  The room seemed to stop Mammon staring at you with rage that could rival Satan.  "Omega. let. GO.“  You shook your head and held his arm tighter.  Mammon shifted to demon form.

"Mammon let the omega go,”  Lucifer spoke with a deadly calm tone his wing spread in a show of dominance.  Mammon met his display with his own.  Lucifer shook his head at his little brother, his favorite brother, the little brother that would look up to him with eyes full of love and adoration now glare at him in hatred and anger.  "Mammon, Don’t make me put you in your place once again, especially in front of an omega.“

"Get the hell offa me!”  Mammon shook his arm violently managing to shake you off.  You back cracked when you hit the ground but you’ve felt worse pain, you jumped back up and got in-between the two alphas.  letting out your calming scent to try to get them to calm down, normally this would work in a pack.  But, you’re not apart of their pack, you’re an outsider putting your nose where it doesn’t belong and now you’re on thin ice.  

“Please try to clam down both of you, there is no need for this if we just talk it through I’m sure we can figure this out without violence.”  You smiled softly at Mammon, the demonic alpha you currently stood in front of.  He slowly approached you and you thought he was going to hug you or state you were right but, as he got closer you saw his eyes weren’t looking at you.  He was looking above you with fists clenched, teeth bared, and wings fully strained.  You made a big mistake, never turn your back on a raging alpha, your back was to Lucifer.  A deep growl sounded behind you and you slowly turned and were greeted to an enraged Lucifer.  It happend so fast.

A tail wrapped around your waist and yanked you out from between the two alphas seconds before the sound of bones snapping and roaring reached you.  "Mc, you normie are you crazy!“  Levi screamed over the fight.  "You’re the only omega I’ve seen that gets in-between shit like this!”  There was a loud crash and you both turned to see Mammon get slammed through the long meeting table.  

You clung to Levi and whimpered, “Can you stop them?”  He turned to you with a look of terror on his face.  You wanted him to get in-between two of the strongest Alphas in Devildom?  Mammon shook off the debris from the table he looked up growled at Lucifer then launched back up in the air.   Levi gulped, yeah like that’s going to happen.

“Do I look like Beel?!  I can’t stop them!”  He flinched when he heard you whimper a high pitched one and his widened.  "Mc, don’t screech!“  his hands covered your mouth, "That could make things even worse!”  He looked at your teary eyes and caved.  "Fine, I’ll see what I can do.“  With that Levi entered the ring, screaming about how their both being stupid Normies.  Beel was the next one to come in, as soon as he saw the fight he shifted and was air born trying to get in-between Lucifer and Mammon and physically separate them.  If Beel could have smelled you over the scent of sweat and alpha pheromone you would have been his top priority.  Satan came in next and was using his tail to grab at Lucifer and drag him down so Beel just had to subdue Mammon.  You had no clue when Asmo came in but he was on the phone with someone trying to get help you assume.

This was all your fault, you should have just left and gotten help when you saw the oldest brothers so tense with each other.  The voices of your family filled your head, screaming about you being a screw-up, about you being the reason they fought, why couldn’t you be better.  Your chest felt tight, the air was too thin, smells were too much the breaking of glass, shattering wood, and the sound of screaming or was is screeching?  Wait that wasn’t the brothers was that you?  Was this unholy mixture of a whimper, scream, and yep coming from you?  When you finally took a breath you noticed all the brothers had stopped moving.  Breathing hard your eyes dashed around the room looking for a way out, looking for some kind of safety.  Mammon took a small step in your direction but stopped taking a deep breath through his nose and he looked ill.  You reeked of rotten fruit and of blood, not a pleasant mixture but a very strong scent.

Thundering footsteps got everyone’s attention you whimpered and scooted back into a corner.  You always felt safe in corners, people could only come at your front, no one could attack you from behind or your sides.  You curled up tightly in a ball and hid your head in your arms protecting your neck for good measure.  The double doors swung open and the scent of an apex alpha filled the room.  

"Does someone what to tell me what’s going on?”  Diavolo’s voice boomed causing you to whimper and make yourself even smaller.  His eyes shot to you and he clenched his jaw, heading your way.  Tears filled your eyes as you tried to disappear in the corner but you couldn’t escape the absolute mountain of an alpha approaching you.

“I’m-I’m sorry, so-so sorry al-alpha.”  Your instincts were at war with each other, one side was trying to run and the other wanted to offer yourself to quell his anger.  But he just kept getting closer and closer to you so you submitted.  You forced your head as far back as you could, barring your neck as much as possible, and closed your eyes to avoid meeting his.  When Diavolo reached you he knelt down in front of you and spoke in hushed tones.

“Omega, it’s okay,”  He opened his arms.  "I’m here now, nothing can hurt you now.“  You whimpered and cracked an eye open, straining to see the alpha.  "It must hurt bearing your neck like that and, I know you can’t see me that well like that.”  Slowly you uncurled from your ball and looked down, still uneasy about meeting his eyes.  "I know you’re scared but, omega, you need to look at me and talk to me.“  He scooted closer to you.  "I need to make sure you’re not hurt.”  An alpha who wanted to make sure you’re not hurt?  That’s a first for you.  You looked up at the alpha kneeling in front of you causing him to hum happily.  "There we go, you’re so brave omega.“  He radiated safety, you wanted to feel safe but, you didn’t want to cross any lines.  One glance from Lucifer had you scuttling into his lap, fuck not crossing lines, you wanted comfort and you wanted it now.  His body stiffened for a second but his arms quickly wrapped around you.  You finally felt safe again in his embrace, his scent masked the other scents in the room making it feel like all the other demons weren’t in the room.  Your breathing started to even out and your scent started to return to normal, you were starting to relax.  A sudden cough interrupted you both, with a snarl Diavolo turned to growl but held it back when he saw it was just Solomon.

"Am I interrupting something?”  Solomon asked with a raised brow.  With a huff, Diavolo stood up, placing you in one arm, and walked towards Solomon.  Both apex alphas had a stare down neither one wanted to look away first but, one look at you in Diavolo’s arms had Solomon looking down first.

“No, you’re not interrupting a thing.”  Diavolo nodded at Solomon’s submission and carefully untangled your arms from him.  He smiled when you whimpered and held on tighter and buried your face in his neck.  "Mc, you need to go with Solomon what I’m about to do you can’t witness,“  he mumbled in your ear.  "But when I’m done I’ll come to see you alright?”  You nodded and let go of him.  "Good Omega.“  He placed you down and you walked to Solomon and, he welcomed you with open arms literally. "Solomon, take Mc to purgatory dorm.  They’ll be staying with you until further notice.”  With a nod, Solomon started to walk you out when the doors slammed shut and the lock clicked you both heard a beastly growl.

“Mc, hold on to me.”  You held on to him as he chanted something in Latin and a portal opened up he quickly dragged you through it when you both heard the yelling started.  The portal opened up in his room and he set you down on the bed.  "Feel free to make a nest if you need it if you need more blankets or pillows let me know okay?“  Solomon really wished he wasn’t on scent blockers at this moment he wanted you to curl up in his scent just like you did with Diavolo.  Solomon bit back a growl at the thought of him, turning around to hide his snarl.  Diavolo forced Solomon to show submission and for the first time, Solomon was pissed about it.  He’s an Apex just like Diavolo.  "Mc did you hear me?… Mc?”  Solomon turned to you and smiled, you were passed out clinging to his pillow.  Solomon walked over and sat down next to you running his hand through his hair.  "If that demon thinks I’m giving up on you, he’s got another thing coming.“  Solomon rubbed at his neck forcing the scent blocker off while forcing more of his scent out.  He placed his hand, that was drenched in his scent, on your scent gland.  He wasn’t trying to erase Diavolo’s scent, in fact, he was letting him know that he wasn’t the only alpha after your hand.  "Game on Diavolo, Game on.”  

[chilling-seavey]

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - 4

A/N Oops early post. I couldn’t contain myself

Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.

The muffle of heavy footsteps outside the front door had Jonah and I halting our breaths in our chests in anticipation. We were expectedly on edge. Thankfully, it was just the mail delivery and the security sensor at the front step set off a little notification noise from the main monitor that was set up on the kitchen counter. When the metal mailbox closed and the footsteps faded back towards the street, I moved over to the main monitor and typed in the code and scrolled through the notification menu. The film footage from the studio was still gone but it was listed as having been deleted around 8pm the night before.

“Anything of interest?” Jonah asked.

“Not really.” I mumbled and turned back to face him. “I’m going to look around a little more.”

“Alright. I’ll look around here.” he looked me up and down, “Maybe change your clothes while you’re at it.”

I glanced down at my white hoodie and white jeans, both pieces of clothing stained dark red all up the back from where I had been laying all night and my bloody handprint was smeared over the chest of my hoodie. Good idea.

I returned to the master bedroom and set my laptop bag on the bed and let my computer turn on while I headed into the walk-in closet to find clean clothes. The two garment bags hanging on the far wall in front of the mirror had me stopping in place with my hand on the light switch. I hesitated as if not having expected them to be there; even if I had known they would be returned home by Jonah and my brother along with the wedding gifts two weeks ago. I shuffled over to unzip the first black garment bag, dragging my hand down the smooth white dress that had been hidden underneath. A few smudges of red were left behind from my touch and I pulled my hand back quickly and wiped my blood-stained fingers on my pants.

I forced myself to swallow back any feelings as I zipped the bag back up and focused my attention on pulling black jeans from the shelf and a black t-shirt from a hanger. I took them into the ensuite bathroom and closed the door behind me as if I were trying to shut out something or suddenly needed some privacy. Funny that the only invasive things in the damn house was the weird feeling of guilt and realization and utter confusion that was eating me alive.

My hands were holding myself up on the edge of the counter and I was breathing hard, staring myself in the eye through the spotless mirror. Avalon always liked things clean.

Although I had been passed out on my studio floor for God knows how long that night, I still looked like I hadn’t slept in weeks. I seemed to have a layer of drying blood all over me and it matted my dyed blonde hair down in unattractive dark clumps and stained my white clothes evilly. The dark circles under my eyes didn’t seem like they were just from the flight home and the pale complexion that stared back at me didn’t even feel like my own. I ran my hand over my face, staring at how my slightly sticky fingers tugged at my skin, drawing more attention to my eyes and dry lips…honestly, who was I? My wife was dead – her throat slit and she was left to bleed out – and I was more worried about my face in the mirror.

I could see her eyes in my mind. Those lifeless brown eyes staring at me with all the unrevealable answers to the world. And yet, only days before, she was looking up at me with those same honey brown eyes, full of love and lust, on a king size bed in Costa Rica and whispering how much she loved me.

You have to understand, dear reader, that I had no clue what I was doing or what I was feeling. So you cannot truly blame me when the only reaction to my current situation was my body sending me to my knees in front of the toilet to throw up the limited plane food in my stomach as the metallic smell of blood flooded my senses. It was all too much.

I didn’t know what we had to do next, but I knew that whatever the plan was going to be, we had to move quickly. So I stripped out of my blood-stained clothes and into the clean ones, only stopping long enough to wipe any blood from my skin with a damp cloth until I looked reasonably tame in my reflection. I wet my hair under the tap to get the worst of the blood out of it and ruffled it with a towel before saying ‘good enough’ and headed back to the bedroom.

If I was in fact a murderer, no amount of water was going to cleanse this conscious.

I sat on the edge of the bed and typed in my password to my laptop. The screen loaded and brought up the last tab that was open; the flight information home. The site had updated and stated that the plane had landed on time at LAX yesterday evening and my credit card receipt showed the taxi payment for thirty minutes later. We were home around 7:00. Other than confirming the times at which we returned home, the laptop didn’t offer much assistance.

What did I expect? The screen to read out exactly how my wife was murdered?

Jonah came into the room, “Hey. Find anything?”

I glanced up at him before looking back down at the screen, biting anxiously at my fingernail, “No. Don’t remember anything more either.”

Jonah didn’t answer, letting me have a moment to collect my thoughts. I didn’t blame him; what do you say to your best friend who possibly just murdered their wife and doesn’t remember it. I swiped my finger over the trackpad on my laptop to bring up the other window that was open; iMessage. The last conversation thread that was up was between Avalon and me. I remembered it well.

I was down at the resort bar the night before we left. Jonah had sent me a recording that he wanted my opinions on and I had a few changes I wanted to make so I took myself downstairs with my headphones and my laptop and got some work in. Cocktail in one hand and mouse in the other, I worked until the notification popped up on the bottom menu of my screen.

It would be nice if you spent our last night up here with me.

I had ignored it, huffing and rolling my eyes at her constant pestering and minimized the window again.

God…stupid me. That would have been our last night together. And she didn’t even face towards me when I finally came to bed.

“You weren’t around me!” she yelled, tapping her hand against the cup in her hand so the sound of her ring against the glass punctuated each of her words. “What person wants to spend their honeymoon alone? Of course, I wanted to go home! I was basically there by myself and I was miserable!”

“I had to get some shit done! Jonah needed me to double check a few things while we were away. It’s not the end of the world and I’m sorry if you feel that way!”

I could see her visibly tense and she turned her head so she didn’t have to look at me, jabbing under her breath, “That’s always your excuse, isn’t it? ‘Always gotta get some shit done’. Well, I’m sick and tired of coming second to your work all the time.”

I made her miserable.

“Jonah.” I breathed, turning to look at him over the top of my laptop, “What if she killed herself?”

“She didn’t seem suicidal.” Jonah said.

“Yeah.” I sighed, turning back to the screen. I let out a heavy breath and closed my laptop and tucked it back in the case. “We have to decide what to do.”

“Alright. What are you thinking?” Jonah asked.

I thought for a moment as I set my laptop bag back on top of the untouched suitcase by the wall, “I don’t know. I need time to figure out what the hell happened.”

“Do you want to head to the lodge in Utah? It will buy you a few days and maybe we can figure out what happened by then.”

I nodded, letting out a deep breath, “Yeah, okay. That probably makes the most sense.”

I walked past Jonah and out of the master bedroom, stopping shuffle through the mail that had been collected by Jonah and Christian throughout the last three weeks and placed in a decorative bowl on the front console table. I ruffled through a few bills and random mailer coupons, just to make sure I wasn’t missing anything that I might want to take with me out of state. My search stopped dry at one crisp white envelope, addressed to our house and labelled with simply Avalon with no surname. I frowned and slid my finger under the sealed flap to tear it open.

“Bro, opening other people’s mail is a federal offence.” Jonah stated as he joined me by the table.

“She’s dead, Jonah. I don’t think it really matters anymore.” I answered flatly and pulled out the folded piece of lined stationary from the envelope.

Avalon,

Things are hard right now and I get that but shutting me out isn’t going to help anyone. You can’t give up on me. I really want to see you when you get home. Please let me know when you get this. I need to make things right.

-J

My heart felt like someone was pushing it through a juicer and I frowned down at the paper as I read it a second time. The second time didn’t make it hurt any less. I rubbed my hand over my chest and then ruffled it through my damp hair.

“What the fuck is this?” I breathed. I looked at Jonah, “Who’s J? Is it you?”

“Me? Why would I write her suspicious letters when I can just text her?” Jonah replied.

“Yeah.” I sighed and looked back down at the letter. I clenched my jaw and swallowed back the hurt and strange glimmer of jealousy that was bubbling up inside my empty stomach. “Maybe there’s something on her phone.”

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee​ @randomlimelightxxx​ @stuffofseaveyy​ @hopinglimelight​ @tempus-ut-luceant​ @br4nd1s​ @xkelsev​ @hiya-its-amber​ @sexyseavey15​

[awfullyaster]

andrew and neil are switches, don’t you forget it

ok hi here for my (probably) daily aftg rant,,,,so i’m seeing that the majority of the fandom (as far as i’ve seen anyway)--or fics/fanart consisting of andreil doing the do--view neil as a power bottom ?

am i incorrect? are my resources false? idk bout u but so far i’ve only seen like one fic where neil is the top/penetrator (!mao is that even a real word idk but it sounds weird haha cute ok anyway)

and honestly, i have to disagree. i do. i’m not trying to push andrew’s boundaries by saying that neil could top, i’m just saying that y’all don’t give neil enough credit.

liek,,,,,bro,,,,,do you not see the amount of top energy neil mf josten radiates ???? like, yes, we know andrew takes the lead but it doesn’t necessarily mean he’d top forever ?????

( just a proposition, ofc but this is just my opinion based on observations--yet again ) 

( and tbh i had difficulty trying to figure who was the top and who was the bottom between them when i encountered the first hint of intimate growth in their relationship--to the point where i had to ask my best friend who hadn’t a clue what aftg was prior to (that’s when the aftg rants officially started/ignited) and it took some time/proper discussion/consideration but he first came up with the conclusion that andrew was a sub top and that neil was a power bottom )

as for yours truly, i came to the conclusion that they are both switches (some time after i finished reading).

i mean,,,,,,can you really just look at neil josten--wholly, like his entire personality, attitude (problem !), traits, &c and decide on the spot that he’s a bottom ??? how ??? how the hell do you come up with that ?????

and hear me out, i have evidence/reasons:

one) The Great Riko Roast™️. need i say more? 

(if elaboration is necessary:

keep in mind that neil (this literal fucking nobody) burned riko (supposedly the king of exy or whatever the fuck, who cares) to ground on the spot (no script, just his attitude problem (mwah i love him) and pure spite)

again, he burned him to the ground on live television, publicly humiliating riko with each and every word

idk bout u but i am so damn sure andrew found out right then n there that this bitch radiates top energy for fucking sure (or, in his words, isn’t spineless)

neil committing arson via verbal attacks is just---splendid. absolutely mesmerizing. flawless. truly inspiring. gamechanging. glorious. 

he’s so rude i love him

anyway )

two) neil can shut up andrew up without having to touch or kiss him. he can leave him speechless. with just his words. 

(yes, we know anybody & everybody knows better than to touch andrew but like i mean he wouldn’t have to fight him or whatever) (and he doesn’t have to kiss him to shut him up--though he definitely can--he doesn’t have to because that’s just how fucking powerful he is)

y’all,,,,,are you ready for one of the most amazing lines i believe we all know and love,,,,,

““You have a problem wherein you only invest your time and energy into worthless pursuits."

“This,” Neil flicked his finger to indicate the two of them, “isn’t worthless.”

“There is no ‘this’. This is nothing.”

“And I am nothing,” Neil prompted. When Andrew gestured confirmation, Neil said, “And as you’ve always said, you want nothing.”

Andrew stared stone-faced back at him.

[...andrew had his hand frozen mid-air...(i forgot the rest)]”

if this does not prove dominance to you, i don’t know what to tell you. (HE WAS MERELY SPEAKING AND ANDREW COULD NOT COME UP WITH ANYTHING-- A N Y T H I N G --TO SAY BACK BC IT’S A PERSONAL ATTACK AND HE DIDN’T SEE IT COMING AND THAT’S WHY HE SEES NEIL AS INTERESTING/WHY HE ‘HATES’ HIM SO MUCH BRO I)

hOweVeR

i know that dom bottoms exist (i think so, anyway) or bottoms that radiate top energy/the position (i.e. bottom,top) energy you radiate can be entirely different from what position you really are/are comfy with and that these are just words but that brings me to my following point,

three) (#1 insitgator, he, oh yes, neil josten, yes indeed) his unexpected (and to be frank, quite thrilling) acts of asserting dominance ?????? um ????

(when they were kith kithing next to the kitchen (next to kitchen) in neil’s dorm room) “[neil felt his phone buzz in his back pocket and against the wall it was obnoxiously loud. he already knew it was his daily countdown, but he already knew how much little time he had left. he didn’t need to reminded, especially now...andrew took it out of his back pocket and offered it to neil, pulling away from his mouth. neil took the phone from andrew’s hand and threw it across the living room, not taking his eyes off andrew. andrew watched as the phone bounced off the couch and onto the carpet. neil kissed his neck in attempt to distract him and was rewarded by a startled jolt which was enough reason to do it again. and even though andrew pushed his face away, they were close enough for neil to not miss how andrew shivered.]” 

b r o ,,,,,,,,,,,, bro,,,,,,it just--

(when they were alone in the bus otw to that one away game--belmonte, i think?) “[“i wonder when coach found out about this,” neil prompted. 

“there is no ‘this’.”

“i wonder when coach found out you only want to kill me ninety-three percent of the time.”

neil retraced his steps and had a moment of realization. before andrew left for easthaven, neil had told andrew to trust him and not ‘neil’. 

“it was before you left,” neil started... 

“coach doesn’t believe what other people want him to believe, he believes what he sees,” andrew replied...

“are you going to tell them?” neil was referring to the rest of the team, and this was up to him, whether they’ll be out or not. 

“i won’t have to. renee says the upperclassmen are betting on your sexuality.”

neil knew that matt mentioned that there were bets on about him, but he didn’t know it was about this.

“it’s a waste of time and money. they’ll all lose. i’ve said all year that i don’t swing and i meant it. kissing you doesn’t make me look any of them differently. the only one i’m interested in is you.”

“don’t say stupid things.”

“make me.” and with that, neil grabbed a fistful of andrew’s hair and pulled him in.]” 

dude,,,,,,,,,he can take control,,,,,he can,,,,he can lead, too, but he follows andrew’s because he’s a good boy and he knows how important it is. he improvises and uses what he has and takes control from there. dude. dude. 

three) honestly? i think andrew likes it. neil’s unexpected acts of confidence,,,kinda leaves him on the edge of his seat yk,, like doesn’t it increase his percentage? it does, right? cuz ik it did when andrew guided neil to touch his chest and neil emulated andrew’s words, “i won’t be like them. i won’t let you let me be.” (i love them bye) but liek,,,,yeah idk andrew liking neil’s neck kisses/fetish kinda tells me he likes it so maybe this isn’t concrete evidence particularly but i’m still including it because andrew’s a switch, idc what anyone says, 

four) i lost my train of thought but i ran out of reasons--on the spot, anyway--so i might come back to this if i do but just to make it clear:

andrew minyard is a switch. (it just takes time, like a lot, but it doesn’t mean it’s necessarily impossible/never gonna happen.)

neil josten is a switch. (he respects andrew’s boundaries and doesn’t push him, he’s fine being guided, but it doesn’t mean he can’t take the initiative himself (and i forgot to mention it but re: when he asked andrew if he doesn’t like to be touched in general or if it’s a trust thing + many more times, before & after their first kiss, i believe, my brain is just empty rn) and i just think that deserves more recognition)

so !! 

(this post is a mess, (i always am but today’s just worse) i know, and i’m sorry)

in conclusion,

let neil top andrew !! they deserve it !! 

(not that vice versa is bad, but this isn’t either, yk, just saying. also, i hope this isn’t too late to say in the post, but i do not, i repeat, i do not, intend to pressure any content creator--fic writers, fan artists, editors, &c--to create content this particular way only,,,,okay,,,gotta make that unequivocally clear. and i’m not saying andrew topping neil is bad or overrated, because i know that when it comes to them, sex in general would take some time, especially neil topping andrew, but i think they deserve that freedom, yk. again,,,,this is just my personal opinion. no insisting statements here, just wish for freedom to speak my mind, that is all. also feel free to interact if you agree/disagree or both !! i’m willing to hear anyone’s comments or thoughts or whatever !! i hope i’m talking to a brick wall here ahah) 

bro brain poop rn

anyway

tl/dr: bro let neil top (not necessarily on top, but that works, too--either/or--or both, if y’all dare ;DD (kill me) (but like srsly) (let neil top) (plz) :))

(also somewhat off topic but might anyone have access to some fics in which consist of neil first getting andrew off ??? i randomly remember it from ms. sakavic’s extra content page and i would like to see what the fandom offers, if y’all don’t mind)

im so mean and insistent on my aftg-related opinions now that i think about it

whoops

[trulymadlysydney]

Syd bestie holy shit I am so confused with Shannon. I know we already talked about this but how could she say it’s not that big of deal after josh walked off when she literally just made it into a big deal? Damn she is something else isn’t she. Like honestly I was with josh on that one bc she was just being so unreasonable and didn’t listen to what he had to say.

The challenge itself also brought some surprising revelations. Like when they asked how many sexual partners the boys had? We now know it’s not Jeremy so it has to be one of the girls. But I have no clue which one. Maybe Olivia? I don’t know the search for the answer is exhausting lol. And when javonny said he would want to be coupled with Aimee?? Damn I kinda ship that like they wouldn’t work out but they’re my two fave islanders so a girl can dream. And then javonny saying that will and kyra spend all their time kissing instead of getting to know each other?? A bitch was SCREAMING the shade. I love that man

OPERATION HEART ATTACK? Bro that is going to end so badly for both of them. Like in cash’s case cinco already chose Trina over her and as harsh as it sounds I think she just needs to move on. And Olivia? I think that girl has gone off the rails lmao. When they were talking about what turns them on and she said that will was looking right at her? Like they were standing in a group obviously he’s gonna make eye contact with people in the circle. I understand that when you like someone you think everything is a sign that they like you too but will has never shown interest in her besides during the challenge today. Am I being too mean here? I just deadass think she’s seeing things when she says will likes her back or is sending her signs or whatever.

Also I don’t think it was wise for cash to tell Shannon about their plan. We all now Shannon lives for the drama and loves to play both sides. Plus Trina is her bestie so there’s almost no way she isn’t gonna tell her right? And I really hope that cash and Olivia tell Trina and kyra what they’re doing especially bc cash is so big on respect and if they just go behind their backs to graft… yikes talk about messy. But with all that being said do you think cinco or wills head will turn? I don’t think either of them will switch to be honest and then it’ll just be bad for Olivia and cash. I just think this whole operation is a horrible idea lol.

Okay and I think we’ve talked about who we’re voting for but I voted for Aimee and Wes obviously bc they’re my faves. But who do we think is gonna be in the bottom? I say Jeremy and florita and Trina and cinco.

Last thing! So casa amor usually happens half way through the season and since next week is week 3 I think casa amor is gonna happen sometime next week! Can’t wait for that drama!- E

OKAY HELLO I just watched AND I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS

First off, Shannon and Josh are so weird to me d;flskdj like I hate to say it but I DO get where she's coming from, but after he got defensive she was like "woah no wait you're overreacting ew!" (I mean she's a Pisces so... that explains it kldjafl;skj) But yeah she didn't even try to understand where he was coming from. That whole thing was so stupid lol.

The challenge was MESSY. Dude I went to the Love Island US instagram and people are deadass like OMG SO CINCO'S THE VIRGIN? Like... very obviously missing his joke kdjf;lksd like the DAY he came in he admitted to breaking a bed during sex hello. I still cannot for the LIFE OF ME figure out who the virgin is lmfao. If anyone I would've said Roxy but she wasn't even around for that lol. Also PLEASE I LOVE JAVONNY SO MUCH DKLFJSD;LKJ I LOVE WILL AND KYRA BUT HE'S RIGHT.

Also... I'm going to say something mean but you said something similar in the next paragraph you sent so I'm just gonna say it kdjf;lsdkj f I was legit shocked that miss Olivia was such a hot commodity among the men. Like I'm so sorry, she's so pretty and so fun but ... compared to the other girls I feel like she's boring ;akjfs;dlk 🥴

I agree, Operation Heart Attack is SO stupid and it's going to end up blowing up in both of their faces. Cash... love her to death but she neeeeeds to move on. She and Olivia both have already gotten too many people involved in this shit. We know Shannon is the QUEEN pot stirrer, there's NO way she's going to keep her mouth shut about this. As for Olivia and Will... its ridiculous lmfao like Kyra isn't an idiot, Will isn't giving secret signs. I know what it's like to like someone and think that everything is a sign but Olivia... if you don't leave Will and Kyra the fuck alone dlkajfd;slk.

See this is kind of what I was saying about why Cash is starting to annoy me. Like you said, she's SO big on respect and yet she's out here doing this? She really needs to stop thinking she's the main character of the villa. I think Cinco is gonna be tempted but no I don't think Will or Cinco are going to switch it up. I think it's going to end up SO bad for Cash and Olivia both.

I voted Aimee and Wes for sure. I feel like one couple that it's going to come down to is for sure going to be Florita and Jeremy. But as for the other one it's really tough to say... maybe Trina and Cinco like you said although I don't think they've really done anything problematic since getting together. I hate to say it I feel like it could be Olivia and Javonny...

OKAY YES I WAS GONNA SAY CASA AMOR SHOULD BE COMING UP SOON NO?? I'M SO FUCKING STOKED FOR THAT LKDJF;LKSJF I LIVE FOR THIS DRAMA AS MUCH AS IT STRESSES ME OUT

[thedarklightwithinus]

Mercy

A/N; Don’t you love coming up with dialog while you’re trying to sleep at night? 

Warnings; Language. 

Pairings; Steve Rogers x Reader. 

“You are at my mercy.” 

Time began to dissolve into itself as you stared up at the man who had spoken down at you. You eyed him intently, taking in his large figure while trying to figure out the level of dangerous he possessed. You had always been good at figuring out people which was probably why it took you little to no time at all. 

“Well, excuse the fuck out of me!” You scoffed, wondering just where he got off on saying things like that. "You drag me in here, tie me up and creepily say, 'you are at my mercy?'. Now that is just plain weird."  

He hummed, fiddling with a knife that was dwarfed in his chubby hand. You watched him with a raise brow, wondering what he was planning to do. 

The day had started as any other had done. You woke up, grabbed breakfast, took a shower and brushed your teeth. You changed into your tactical gear ready for a mission that was five weeks in the making. Yourself, Steve, Bucky and Sam was the five chosen for the mission. 

Everything was going well with said mission until Sam thought it would be a good idea to split up in order to clear the HYDRA bunker quicker. Something about a hot date at four. Believing at the time that the bunker was in fact abandoned, Steve had agreed after a little persuasion. 

"Hey, fuckface!" You called out, breaking the man away from whatever it was he was doing within his own head. "Where's my friends?" You could tell that he was about to make out like he had no clue as to what you were talking about. "Don't play dumb with me, I see their shit over there." 

Steve's all to familiar vibranium shield sat against the wall while Bucky's vibranium arm lay on top the crocked table top. Sam's thing's seemed to have been spared from being taken. Most likely due to the fact that in many eyes, vibranium was priceless. Not to mention the fact that the metal was famous for its extraordinary abilities to absorb, store, and release large amounts of kinetic energy. 

"That's our stuff now, bitch." He spat, trying and failing to twist the knife around in his hand. 

"Huh." You muttered, nodding slowly. 

"What?" He demanded, his eyes narrowing as if trying to figure you out. 

"You're not here alone." You quipped, grinning slightly as his face turned red. "Which means... My friend are close by!" 

"You won't be seeing your friend again." He finally spoke in what could only be described as annoyance. He advanced on you, gripping the knife tightly "You wont be seeing anyone ag-"

"O-oh my god!" You exclaimed, eyes wide as you looked at something over the mans right shoulder. "What the hell is that!" 

"What!" He all but cried out, turning to look in the direction you seemed so scared of. 

In seconds, you were up out of the chair, the ropes that were tied around your wrists falling to the ground. You moved towards him, kneeing him in the groin. He yelled out, griping at where you had kicked him. You walked backwords, moving so that the wooden chair was between the two of you. 

He swore a lot. Trying to force the pain away before he looked up at you, his wet eyes narrowed. "You little bitch!" 

"Come at me bro!” He did in fact, come at you. 

Thirty seconds. 

That was all it took to knock the guy out. 

You could tell the moment you set eyes on him that he was out of shape. Not only that but he couldn't handle a knife for shit. The way he was trying to twist it in his hands made that clear as day to her. She could almost sing from how easy it had been to drop the guy.

You hummed as you moved through the building, a trail of unconscious HYDRA agents behind you.

Kicking the last door open, you grinned. “THERE YOU GUYS ARE!” You exclaimed happily, limping into the room as you looked at the trio with a grin, the blood from your nose dried into the creases of your smile. “HEY!” 

Almost before you had managed to finish speaking, several muffled voices replied back, each one trying their hardest to be heard.

“Boy, do you guys look so happy to see me!” You chuckled, moving closer as you lowered Steve's shield that was gripped tightly in your left hand while Bucky's arm lay across your shoulders, supported by your right. “Don’t you guys worry about a thing! I’m here to save the day because let’s be honest, I’m clearly the best Avenger." 

Lowering the vibranium pieces to the ground, you moved forwards and slid behind Steve, helping him from the fancy cuffs they had used to keep him in his seat, using the keys they had conveniently placed on a hook by the door. 

"Are you okay?" Steve all but demanded once he as free from his gag and back on his own two feet. You nodded, grinning as he looked over you quickly, trying to see if you were somehow playing off an injury. 

"I'm okay, caught my ankle on the way out the room I was in but that about it." You said, watching as he raised a brow at your face. "Oh! And the door swung back and hit me in the face when I kicked it for hurting my ankle." 

"You're so stupid." Steve sighed, shaking his head as though it pained him to hear how clumsy you actually were. He gripped your shoulders, pulling you into his arms for a moment. "I'm glad your okay." He muttered, pressing his lips to your temple.

"Love you, Rogers" You muttered, wiggling your eyebrows as he rolled his, returning your gesture. The sounds of Bucky and Sam trying to shout at them from behind their gags broke you both from your small trance. "Oh, Sorry!" 

Once everyone was free from bonds and had their own gear back on their persons, or in Bucky's case, his limb back where it belonged, the three of you set off out the room and down the hall Steve recalled coming in from.

The quicker you all got out, the quicker you could call for backup in order to clean out the base of the unconscious agents and shut the place down once and for all. 

"There's a tunnel we passed on our way in, we could use the rope and lower ourselves down... Use the tunnel to get out." 

"Don't be stupid, babe." You scoffed, shaking your head. "We don't need the rope we can just drop down. We ain't puss-"

"You didn't bring the rope did you?" 

"Can't say I did, no."

*

[moirai-au]

Timeline: Arc 4 - Separation, right after "Help him"

Warnings: mentions of injury

Taglist: @immabethehero @bupine @tabbynerdicat @i-maybe-exist @its-ethan-bro @sandinthetardis @honestlyitsjustkenna

David maneuvered his way down the mansion, carefully avoiding and ducking under the obstacles -one of them a massive, 18th century-old grand piano- to get to his destination; the door to Mars’s room, opened just a crack, stood at the end of the hallway in front of him, an eerie, lavender-colored light shining through the seams and the narrow opening.

His heart beat against his ribcage and in his ears, his thoughts a jumbled mess of ‘this is stupid’, ‘I don’t know what I’m doing’ and ‘how did I get in this mess’. But all those thoughts and instincts were being overpowered by the dad’s need to help.

Help Mars, who was probably scared out of his wits right now. Help Cecil, injured and incoherent in the hallway he’d left behind.

Little by little, step by step, he eventually came to a stop in front of Mars’ bedroom door, examining it wearily- the purple light bleeding through the cracks were definitely not a good sign, and he was pretty sure he could hear something akin to a storm going on inside.

Bracing himself as best he could -god, what could he even do if it involved magic of all things- he pushed the door open…

And he gaped at the scene.

The whole place was in utter chaos. Everything was floating, just like in the rest of the mansion, but the shimmering aura surrounding the rogue furniture was a new one. The wandering objects were drifting around the room, slowly, forming circles. Like rings orbiting a planet.

And right here, floating at the center of it all, was Mars.

He was curled in on himself a few feet above his bed, his whole body surrounded by swirling, wizzing strands of violet energy. The very same energy seemed to pulse from inside him, lighting up his veins in lighting-like patterns under his skin.

His hands were clutching and pulling at his long brown hair, which was free of the usual messy bun he often kept them tied in. Now they were floating as well, swaying back and forth like immersed in water, forming a strange halo-like form around Marvin’s face. His expression was one of complete, overwhelming panic. His eyes were blown wide, irises drowned in the agressive purple light.

Under the roaring of the wind and the low thrum of pouring magic, Dave could hear a ragged, rapid wheeze- the mage was hyperventilating.

“Mars?” Dave called out to him, gritting his teeth as he took a step into the room- there was some kind of force pushing him back and every move was nervewrackingly slow, like walking through tar. “Mars, can you hear me? It’s Dave!”

For a second he thought the mage hadn’t heard him at all. Then his face slowly tilted up, mouth gaping. “D-Dave…?”

“Yeah, yeah bud, it’s me. Just me.”

“You can’t- no, no no no no you can’t be here, you need to get away, I can’t-”

“Sorry man, not gonna happen.” the snapback-wearing man shook his head. “The last thing you need right now is to be alone.”

Mars’ expression shifted to surprise, then anger. “Because you of all people know what I need? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m not trying to patronize you, I just want to help-”

“Shut up!”

Mars had screamed, his voice distorted by rage and rogue magic. The air around him exploded outwards, the blast nearly knocking Dave off his feet. The older man winced, but took another step forward stubbornly. “Kid, c’mon-”

But Mars didn’t listen. The floodgates had opened, and words kept flowing like a furious river out of his mouth.

“You have no clue! I barely even know you, you don’t know what I did- everyone, they always leave me behind once they start to see what I am. Hen only stuck around because my- because that was his job, what he was paid to do. And then when the money stopped coming, he only stayed because he felt sorry for me!

“Ollie- ollie was the first person who bothered to put up with me, without being asked! And I was an asshole to him, I kept pushing him away, but he always came back with that stupid smile on his face- calling me his friend, dragging me outside for the first time in years… I started to think that maybe, maybe this would be fine. I c-could- share a connexion with someone, and not hurt them. I started to see him as- as a brother. My dumb, reckless little brother.

“But I was stupid. I let him in, and now he’s gone, he fucking left and it’s all my fault. It’s just like h-he said, I’m nothing but a burden. I hurt people, I break everything I touch-”

“That’s not true.” Dave interrupted, shaking his head desperately. “You’re scared, and that’s okay, you’ve been left to fend for yourself by shitty people, hell, I’ve only known you all for a few weeks and even I can see that.

“You were born with powers you didn’t want or asked for. You didn’t have anyone to help you control them, or understand them- and no-one would cope well with that. Not without help.

“You can’t carry this weight alone, and you shouldn’t have to. You’re not alone, Mars, and- you know you can rely on us, yeah? That’s what f- friends are for, y’know?”

He stumbled on the word, almost letting out the one that made his heart squeeze with both hope and regret. Feeling something inside him shift, he clenched his first and took a step forward, fighting off the ethereal force pushing back against him. Mars, Oliver, the doc- Cecil, he corrected himself, and even that demon... those people had struck a familiar chord in him, and none of them could deny the strange bond that they could all feel, like something that’d always been there, in the back of their minds. And if they wished for it… they could be-

Not now, he decided, not yet. Not until we’re all ready to hear it.

The mage had gone silent once more, still clutching his head, as if to keep it from splitting open; he was gritting his teeth, like Chase’s words were piercing right through him.

Dave held out a hand towards Marvin with visible effort, his lips stretching in an reassuring, fatherly smile. “I’m here. Ollie will come back, I know he will. It wasn’t your fault, not everything bad that happens is your fault. He’s- he has his own demons, you know? We all do. And we can work through them better if we do it together.”

“...I’m broken.” Mars murmured weakly. The maelstrom around him was slowing down, the sparks and energy strikes growing more sparse. Looked like he was finally starting to run out of whatever emotion had been fueling his powers. “I’m a broken mess of a person, have been for years. I don’t know how to deal with people. I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t even know who I am under this- this mask.”

He could’ve been referring to the black sleek mask hovering above the nightstand, but Dave had a feeling it was less literal than that. Yeah, he thought, growing up in near-complete isolation will do that to a person. “You’re not broken,” he said, “You’re just… cracked, and that’s something you can recover from. I know it sounds like useless platitudes, trust me, I’ve heard it all before, but… things can get better. Not saying it’ll be easy, but they can. Just… take a break, yeah? Let other people hold that burden with you, just for a little while. Let me- us, in. Please.”

Mars stared at him with an unreadable expression -the fact that his eyes were drowned in purple light was certainly not helping. Then, slowly, his face twisted in a more familiar way, into something Dave had seen so many times on his kids’ faces. Shiny droplets gathered at the corner of the young man’s eyes, before falling… upwards.

Mars was crying, and his tears were floating up, up, all the way to the ceiling. Dave gaped at the sight- he’d never seen Marv express so much raw, unbridled emotion before. He and Cecil were similar in that regard, burying their true selves under layers and layers of snark and aloofness…

The mage choked on a sob. “I’m so tired… so fucking tired of being alone…”

“You don’t have to be. You have us now. And if you think we’d leave you… well…”

He chuckled. “You were right about not knowing me.”

And then, without warning, the violet glow filling up the room was snuffed out, and so was the force keeping everything up.

The dad reacted on instinct, leaping forward; and he was glad he did, because Mars would’ve hit the hard floor otherwise, missing his bed by a few inches. He caught the distressed mage in his arms with a strained grunt- the kid may’ve not weighed much, especially after a week of basically starving himself, but he was still ridiculously tall, and the collision still brought him on his knees.

David winced as his kneecaps took the brunt of the fall; objects and furniture crashed and broke around him, but he ignored the chaos unfolding entirely as Mars broke down in his hold. C’mon Brody, keep it together, kid needs you...

“I’m s-sorry,” the younger man choked, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, “I didn’t mean- I didn’t want this to happen-”

“I know kiddo, I know…” Dave shushed him, letting him bury his face in his shoulder. “It’s over, you stopped, yeah?”

Mars nodded, pulling back to wipe the wetness off his scarred face- his golden eyes were red and puffy, his pupils blown wide; they shone brighter than usual without the red lenses in front of them. “I didn’t… hurt you?”

“Nope! Not a scratch, see?” Dave smiled at him, raising his arms to his sides as if to prove he was unscathed. He refrained from mentioning the doc’s own state, afraid that the mage would freak out if he found out right now.

Unfortunately, Mars looked up above his shoulder, his piercing gaze fixating on something beyond the wall of his room. His fingers twitched, his features twisting into a focused, searching expression. And then he gasped, concentration leaving its way to dread. “No…”

Ah, shit.

“Mar-” Dave reached out, trying to grab the younger man’s shoulder- but Mars jumped to his feet, clumsily darted over to the door. He took a few steps out, then froze at the sight that awaited him at the end of the hallway.

“Cecil!” he cried out, sprinting down the hallway to kneel in front of the older man. Dave stared in shock as he followed the mage into the corridor, taking in the older man’s deathly pale complexion. His eyes were closed, his head slumped forward. Unresponsive.

The father stumbled forward, his steps feeling both too light and too heavy, like his mind wasn't quite keeping up with his body. He’d just been okay a few minutes ago, he, he’d told him he’d be fine, that it was just a minor concussion-

Had the doctor lied to him? Had he been so adamant on getting David to help the other that he’d ignored his own state entirely? The prospect made his blood run cold.

“Doc, Doc, c’mon,” the mage chuckled feverishly, fat tears rolling down his pallid cheeks. He didn’t seem to notice or care. “I’m sorry I got mad at you, yeah? Y-You didn’t deserve it, I was lost and angry and scared and I’m sorry-”

Cecil wasn’t moving. His grip was limp.

“Hey, hey- what, heh, giving me the silent treatment? T-That’s fine, I can talk for both of us…”

“Mars-”

“Also, ah, you’re gonna have, have to stop being a dick to Dave, yes? P-Pretty sure he just stopped me from ground-zeroing the place- but it’s all good now, see? I’m fine, he’s fine, and you’re, you’re fine...“

“Kiddo, he’s not fine, we gotta call an ambulance-”

“NO!”

Dave reeled back from Mars’ side, eyes wide; the scream had tore right at his core. It was a broken thing, frantic and terrified, yet so full of desperate hope that it made Dave want to cry. The younger man grabbed Cecil’s face with infinite gentleness, despite the trembling in his arms and twitch in his fingers. “He’ll be fine, he’ll be fine, he has- has too. Can’t not be. Won’t- won’t let it, won’t let him get away, won’t let him leave-”

He let out a choked sob, his head falling forward. “H-Hear me, you asshole? You’ve been stuck with me for fifteen years, and I’m not letting you go that easy, hah! Now… stop dicking around, yeah? Come back. Please.”

His hands tensed up around Cecil’s head, his frame shaken by breathless tremors. “It’s over, you can come back. Okay? Just- come back to us. Come back to me. Just come back to me.”

Dave watched, panic eating away at him- they didn’t have time, the doc would not get better without outside help. He started to fish for his phone in his pant pocket, but something stopped him outright.

As Mars kept mumbling, something strange was happening along his arms- bright, lime green vein-like lines were creeping down his shoulders, arms, then forearms, shining through the fabric of his sleepshirt.

the father watched in awe as the light reached Mars’ hands, his fingertips; and once it touched Cecil’s skin, it doubled in intensity for a few seconds- before dimming slowly, then brightening up again, like a slow, steady heartbeat.

And then the doctor arched up, drawing in a large gulp of air.

“Holy shit-” David breathed out, rushing to Cecil’s side. “Doc, calm down, it’s fine, you’re fine- breathe with me, okay? Slow down, this place ain’t running out of air anytime soon.”

As the German got his breathing under control and blinked back into clearheadedness, color already returning to his skin, Dave gently grabbed Mars’ hands to pull them away from the man’s face. “Hey kid- s’okay, you can stop now, yeah? You did good.”

Mars stared at his hands in confusion. “I… did?”

His voice was quiet, unsteady, and his eyes were clouding over by the second. The father put a steadying hand on his shoulder, smiling at him. “Yeah. yeah you did. He’s fine now, see?

The mage stayed silent. He looked back down at his own hands, the green glow fading away quickly. “I… never… didn’t know I could-”

“Well,” Dave cut him off, chuckling gently, “life’s full of surprises, right?”

Mars hummed noncommittally, swaying in place slightly. He eventually leaned in Dave’s side, head falling on the older man’s shoulder; the rush of adrenaline from his magical meltdown was finally fading away, replaced with a bone-deep exhaustion and a fuzzy lassitude. “Dave…?”

“Yeah?”

“M’tired.”

“I know. That’s okay.”

David’s voice was soft, yet so far away. His vision blurred and spun in a fit of nausea, and he had to close his eyes to avoid getting sick all over the carpet- god, how long had it been since he’d eaten, or slept?

He snorted dizzily- he remembered Cecil asking him that exact same query merely a moment ago; he was always bad at listening to his advice, huh?

He felt the scratchiness of the woolen carpet against his cheek- funny, he didn’t remember lying down. Oh well, it was fine. He was quite comfy here, oh-so-heavy limbs surrendering to gravity as it pulled him, deeper and deeper into the floor.

He was vaguely aware of two pairs of hands on him, pulling him up; then his head was rested on something warm and cushiony. He curled up on himself, and within a few seconds he was out, chest rising and falling slowly.

“Mars? H-Hey, can you hear me?”

“He’s fine,” Cecil grumbled, his thumb pressed against the mage’s inner wrist, probably feeling his pulse. “He’s just asleep.”

Dave nodded absentmindedly, staring at the doctor in amazement- the older man hadn’t waisted a second, getting back on his feet to take care of the kid despite having been in a really worrying state just a minute ago.

He sighed in relief and let his back collide against the wall, letting Mars’ head rest on his thighs. They’ll be alright. It’s all gonna be alright.

“The fuck did you fleshbags do?”

“Jesus!” Dave jolted, raising a hand to rest over his already frantically thumping heart. “You gotta stop popping behind us like this, you’re actually gonna give me a heart attack one day!”

Aster rolled his eyes, propped up against the wall- he looked particularly disgruntled. “As if I’d kill you in such a boring way. So, you gonna tell me what kind of fuckery you guys were up to? Fuckin’ earthquake shit woke me up.”

He tilted his head, staring at Mars’ unconscious body laying on the carpet. “And why’s Scars on the floor?”

Cecil clicked his tongue in annoyance, glaring at the imp impatiently. “That is not for you to know. Look, if you won’t help, you might as well go back to whatever hole you just crawled out of and leave us alone.”

Aster snarled at the doctor, sharp teeth bared aggressively. “Yeah? ‘s far as I know the biggest hole in here is you, so you might not want that, do you Doc?”

“Why you little-”

“Whatever!” the demon interrupted, turning away from the group. “I don’t even know why I bothered to come down, I really don’t give a shit. Have fun cleaning up. Fuckin’ humans, can’t leave them for one second-”

The rest was lost in undecipherable clicking and growling as Aster disappeared down the hallway, leaving Cecil and Dave alone with Mars’ prone form, in the middle of a capharnaum of fallen and broken objects.

“You did it.”

David tuned to the other curiously; the german’s icy grey eyes were peering right at him, considering him- scanning him, like he was a particularly complex enigma. “You managed to get him to stop. How?”

The father tilted his head, nonplussed. "I- well, I didn't see him as some destructive power or danger, I just…”

He sighed, visibly struggling to find the right words. “When I went in there and saw him… all I could see was a scared little kid who never got the chance to grow up. So I handled it like I'd handle one of my kids if they were afraid. I just talked to him, y'know?"

Cecil blinked, Mars’ earlier words looping in his mind over and over.

You're not my fucking father. You've made that very clear, remember?

Oh, he did. Memories made their way to the surface of his mind, bitter regret still clinging to them.

A tiny hand reaching out to him, hesitant. A quiet, youthful voice, earnest and hopeful. Something dropping into his palm- panic and fear as his eyes fell upon it. The little boy’s crestfallen face as Cecil turned and walked away. Ran away.

The unfolded piece of paper left forgotten on the floor.

“We need to move.”

“Was?” his head snapped up, taken out of his reverie; Dave was looking at him, drive steeling his usually softer features. “We need to move him, get him on the couch- if it’s still in the living room. I hope it is.”

The doctor processed his words before nodding slowly, the… event from a few days prior adding a second kind of regret to his already aching old heart, making it hard to talk. “Dave… about what I said to you the other day, I-”

“I know,” the other cut him off, giving him a soft, understanding look. “Just… not now, okay? Later. Right now we need to focus on Mars. And- Ollie. We need to find him. This shit’s gone on way too long.”

Cecil pursed his lips, looking conflicted, but agreed. “Very well. Get his legs, I’ll get his arms.”

“Gotcha- just be careful, I think I saw a few kitchen knives floating on my way here.”

***

Cecil’s room was dark, the orange light of early winter sunset shining through the window.

There, in an open drawer, under a mess of pencils and paper clips, was a sheet of paper. The page, yellowed with age, was covered in crudely drawn stars and moons -yes, moons, one couldn't fault children for wishing for more funny shapes in the night sky- above a blocky rendition of the mansion, and two stick figures standing in front of the door.

One of them was small, its only discernible features being the two pink circles framing bright yellow eyes. The other was a lot taller, spouting severe-looking grey eyes and a frown. Both of them seemed to be holding hands.

The childish scribbles above the drawing had faded with the years, but it was still very legible, despite the poor spelling.

Hapy fathers day -sined Mars

[hwangskz]

excuse me, do you have a boyfriend? | bad boy! felix

so i was lurking on tumblr at 5am a few days ago and got inspired for this by @chenle 's anon lmao thank u i guess skjshd

• "are you jamaican? 'cause jamaican me fall for you ;)" - you know who

• u read another note from the same guy who's been following u around for quite a few weeks now

• and as u slam ur locker shut (trying to look cool (⌐■_■))

• but then

• "hello there"

• "JSHSBA AAAAAA-"

• "OH MY GOD IM SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO SCARE U !!!! IT'S JUST ME !!!!! FELIX !!!!!"

• there goes ur cool aura o(╥﹏╥)o

• "from the next time, TELL ME UR THERE BEFORE U FUCKIN ATTACK BITCH"

• "i ???? just spoke ????"

• "ur voice is enough to give me shivers shut up-"

• and he nears ur face and just wriggles his eyebrows up and down causing u to roll ur eyes

• "shut up i didn't mean that in the other way-"

• "yeah, um, sure"

• u could only roll ur eyes at him at this point

• "also im not jamaican?? im korean, dude" - you, as u look at felix with confusion

• "JSHSB NO I KNOW!!!! but ur still making me fall for u ;))" - felix, as he throws a wink at u in the end, and u pretend to gag on it which makes him cutely laugh

• u never really understood felix's deal w you, u know????

• like, yeah u remember bumping into a guy after u had joined ur school for about a month and u were late for ur maths class

• and honestly u would have loved to help him pick up whatever papers that fell down (that belonged to him) but NUH UH BITCH UR NOT STAYING 15 MINS AFTER CLASS AGAIN JUST TO CATCH UP ON WHAT U MISSED

• u had once learned that if something's gone, then that's just how it is gonna be. gone.

• so who are u to change laws HUH

• but while u were rushing this boy just???? stops u????

• "excuse me, do you have a boyfriend?"

• first thought : what... the fuck

• second thought : WHAT THE FUCK DID THIS RANDOM STRANGER JUST ASK

• that may have sounded agressive but u WERE FUCKING BLANK

• "w-wait, what?"

• "a-ah, sorry that must've been too direct... i'm lee felix! and i think ur cute"

• bro

• how the FUCK are u straightforward

• "because ur cuteness made :D"

• u dont even know HOW but felix just ended up sticking his nose in ur business with u after that

• his friends never minded??? tho???

• "hey chan i hope u don't feel weird when felix stays with me for too long,,,"

• "?????? y/n!!! i would never oml!!! it's completely fine! u can have 'lix! romantically too, teehee"

• looking at it from felix's side,

• he was carrying the extra sheets back to his science class when he bumped into u

• he obv knew u were a girl because of ur voice when u were talking to urself about getting late

• so u know how in movies and shows and books, they all say that u'll meet the loyl after bumping into them and then u both will gather the papers together and all that stuff

• well that did happen

• ...except that u just ran away without a sorry or anything???

• so felix just sat there in silence for about 3 seconds before dashing to u and, well, asking if u have a boyfriend

• to be honest, this wasn't really the first time he's seen u, u know

• yall have the same english class and he sits right behind u

• he's admired u from behind before

• but probably his Bad Bitch Side decided to show up that day because this boy is actually just a softie behind that bad boy personality jshsjshs

• but seeing u react like that, with ur cheeks all flushed he just :((( GOD he fell in love w u more

• back to the present

• now u know how i mentioned that yall have the same english class???

• well, felix knows ur existence in that class

• however,,,u cant say the same about his tho

• so when u walk into ur class today ur ??? surprised???? when u see felix sitting in ur seat????

• "????? are u stalking me????"

• felix chuckles as he moves aside to make space for u to sit down, which u do

• "can't believe u didn't know we share a class together"

• ":OOOO WE DO?"

• the thing is that u just looked so focused on the topics that felix just didn't have enough heart to break ur concentration from it, yk

• "that's one really stupid excuse"

• "y/N-"

• however, that day in class, u couldn't help but look at felix

• how his eyes sparkled when he gave the right answer and everyone awed at his english skills

• how he showed u his new pencil pouch that had his favorite cartoon character drawn on it and cutely laughed again

• how he kept quoting vines to u and then just laughed heartily again

• are u taking a liking towards felix?

• maybe it had been a really long time since u had been zoned out because the next thing u know felix is shaking u by ur shoulders (very slightly, cautiously, in order to not hurt u accidentally)

• "y/n? hey? u there?"

• u blink ur eyes several times as u look around the class, trying to get a better view, at what looked like ur classmates leaving for their home

• u pack up ur stuff and ur ready to go before felix tugs on ur hoodie sleeve

• jesus CHRIST who taught him to be this cute

• "do u wanna walk home, maybe..?"

• u would have rejected the offer

• "sure"

• maybe that answer was just lying on the tip of ur tongue

• maybe u are taking a liking towards felix

• so yall are on ur way to ur home, in silence

• not that it was awkward

• it felt nice like this

• it felt nice to be with him, like this.

• "hey y/n?"

• "hm?"

• he looks over at u, making sure u know he's sincere about whatever he's gonna say next

• "aren't u tired of me?"

• ??????

• "what do u mean 'tired' of you?"

• "i mean, i'm always lurking around u. never with my friends. i'm always trying to talk to u, disturb u. how have u not gotten rid of me yet?"

• u think for a moment

• think about the time when u first met him

• well obviously u were disturbed

• but u didn't mind it tho

• and unlike other times when u felt lonely, he actually made it feel like someone really had ur back

• even if he kept pushing through ur shell

• actually

• ur pretty fucking glad he did

• "because i like being with you."

• and FELIX JUST SKBSBS STOPS WALKING AND GOES ??????

• "??????? DONT U HATE ME THO"

• "never said that." - you, as u turn around trying to open ur door

• and there he goes again, mouth hanging open and his heart beating at full speed once again because of u

• “wh- in what SENSE DO U LIKE BEING WITH ME-”

• “i’ll leave it to ur imagination”

• and like that, u just turned around and closed the door to ur house, leaving a burning red felix behind

• next day when u reached ur school, u went to ur locker, yk, waiting for the day to go on like a normal one

• except... it wasn’t

• felix stood in front of ur locker, a bright smile on his face and a bag of chocolates in his hand

• “y/n!!!!!! good morning!!!!! ヾ(＠⌒▽⌒＠)ﾉ !!!!”

• “felix what are u doing in front of my lo-”

• he didn’t even let u finish before he shoved the chocolates in ur face

• “i brought something for u!!!”

• and like this, the entire day, felix was acting ESPECIALLY clingy to u

• u didn’t mind it tho

• but before school ended today

• “y/n! wait for me!”

• u look up to see a familiar face

• namely. hwang hyunjin

• running towards u

• “hey! it’s been a while, huh” - you, as u stand facing him now

• he pulls his bag over and gives u a hug, slightly startling u

• “yeah... also, y/n? can i, uh, ask u something..?”

• u nodded slightly, unsure of what he’s gonna say next

• “are u seeing someone?”

• u go silent for a moment

• ur first thought : felix

• but then again, u think, ‘does he even like me for real..?’, so so so many thoughts all about felix are going on in ur head

• so hyunjin continues

• “if not, would u like to go somewhere tomorrow-”

• “she didn’t answer u, did she? then why don’t u take a hint, and leave?”

• u look towards ur right to see the person who had occupied ur mind

• YALL ALREADY K N O W THIS IS LEE FELIX

• “felix you don’t need to-”

• “is s/he/they your girl/boyfriend/partner?”

• this was just a question from hyunjin, so why did make you stop talking?

• why did it do something to your heart?

• “yes.”

• and with that, felix takes ur hand in his and walks away from the school building, but not very far as u pull away from his grip

• “felix? why would you say something that isn’t true-”

• “because i want it to be!”

• you can’t even form words now at this point honestly

• WHAT IS A WORD Y/N L/N DOESNT WHAT A WORD IS

• felix continues

• “i want it to be true, y/n! from day one, when i first met you in class, till today, i only thought of being with you. i even confessed to you, so so so many times, and you said no. well, that’s fine. but what isn’t fine is that.. you never believed me. you never believed the love i had for you. why? is this really too much to ask for? can’t you ever just believe me?”

• u have no clue what made u do this

• but you stepped closer and said

• “i didn’t answer you, right? didn’t you say just a few seconds before that if the person doesn’t answer, the other should take the hint and... leave?”

• u had never seen felix’s eyes tear up like that

• not even that time when he got a huge bruise on his hand because he tried to save u from that ball in the baseball game that had headed towards u

• and it makes something in u ache

• and ur about to take back ur words when

• “if this makes u better, then that’s that, i guess. goodbye, y/n.”

• and like all cliche films u try to pull him back, but guess he’s just really fast. because now? u only see an empty road

• and guess he really meant that goodbye, because now, u can’t even find him

• u even went to chan if he had seen felix

• so many times of the day, but

• “sorry, y/n. i haven’t seen him yet :(”

• was all that u got as an answer from him

• honestly? at this point, u didn’t even know if u liked felix or not

• “from the looks of u, maybe yeah u do.”

• u look up to see chan smiling and taking his seat beside u

• “look, y/n, i might be a very ignorant person sometimes, but i couldn’t ignore the look of sadness on felix’s face that day. we’ve known each other for quite a long time now, you know? but this is the first time i had ever seen him so in love with someone. 

• being the popular kid of the school, he still was very polite to people. i still remember when he told he felt something for a girl in his class. i just chuckled thinking it might just be a small crush.... but it wasn’t. it isn’t just a small crush for him now, y/n.”

• ur heart just.. physically hurts alot at this point

• “do u know where i can possibly find him?”

• “i’m not really sure, but u can try to look for him in the practice room. he would always be there when he’s down.”

• maybe there’s still a chance left

• “will he be there right now?”

• once chan answers u, u dash ur way to the practice room, not caring about the students who turned back to scowl at u

• u open the door

• and u might just cry

• because there he was, sitting in front of the mirror, legs crossed, hands tangled in his hair and head down

• “felix!”

• before this boy even gets the chance to answer u, u hug him ever so tightly, trying to ignore that he had slightly flinched at ur touch

• “y/n..?”

• u pull away, hands still wrapped around his waist, and speak out the words that felix had been longing to hear

• “i think i like- no wait. i like you ALOT BITCH”

• felix blinked twice before chuckling lightly and pulling u into a kiss

• and once, u felt so warm

• u sure were shocked at first, but when u kissed him back, felix smiled against ur lips

• when both of u pulled away, ur cheeks burning red

• and so were felix’s cheeks

• he looked down and spoke as he played with his hands, turning the ring around his finger several times

• “i thought u would never come..”

• “says the one who ran away.”

• “because YOU told me to leave!”

• it’s ur turn to look down now, because, damn he was right

• “i just- i’m sorry. i don’t even think i have an excuse for that, except that i couldn’t turn down hyunjin properly.”

• felix sighs and falls into ur arms again

• “did u know i was gonna confess to u that day?”

• “u confess to me everyday tho”

• “!!!! no i mean a serious confession. i was really gonna tell u, sincerely, this time. did chan hyung tell u?”

• u pull away and look at him with a confused expression on ur face

• “??????no????? in fact, he told me that u ‘might’ be here today”

• felix sighs out of relief

• “im glad he kept his promise and didn’t tell u beforehand that day. gotta get him a treat then.”

• “?????????bitch?????? IM COMING TOO”

• he laughs and holds u by ur shoulders as he speaks

• “obviously u’re coming. u’re my woman now, after all ;))))))”

• “oh no what have i got myself into”

[punkcryptids]

LIFE IS STRANGE 2 EPISODE 3

okay, so throughout the recent life is strange games i have made posts such as this one; I would make a bullet-point list of my ideas and thoughts of the game, certain little lines or details and shit. i did this for the farewell episode, i think before the storm (at least one of the episodes), and captain spirit. i tried to do this for life is strange 2, but Tumblr fucking killed itself when i tried, like i even restarted the fucking episode to redo it. so i don't think ive done these for life is strange 2, but honestly they're a lot of fun to rant out my opinions of the game and the little details and shit so, without further ado, here's this -spoiler full- little list.

also, little sidenote: i had no clue this was supposed to come out, i heard jack shit about it so like, the day after it was released i saw an article, googled it, and fucking died and felt so stupid. so anyways. let's begin.

*spoilers ahead, ill tag the post too but smh once got anon hate over this shit*

ok just to start this off, the little like "last time on life is strange" refresher is really nice and unique and i fucking love it still

the wolf drawings v cute

not game related but this fucking incense im burning is floating across the screen and it's so fucking ominous

ALSO NOT GAME RELATED BUT FUCKIN MY HEADPHONES GIVING OUT

why the fuck is Chris a racoon

okay now game points for the a c t u a l fucking game??

ok this fuckin music fuckin kicking

ok i like the choice to start this episode with like a flashback, i really like that choice (also three bullet points in a row i start with "ok" v original)

yo sean wanna give me that weed bag? could use some brother skksks

fuck Daniel his room nice af

honestly the instant thought when Daniel came into Sean's room was that he was stealing his weed? cause I could've sworn that's where it was in the first episode

i love his dad sksksk

i hate that fucking toy okay, it's awful

ok low-key, i hate kids and if i Sean I'd be so annoyed? because like he came into Sean's room when he's been told not to, and like snuck in there, and then lied about Sean hitting him (bc I didn't hit him) and then as soon as Sean goes to apologize he's like "get out" like u little hypocritical shit hhhh. love Daniel but it's fuckin annoying

"and don't touch my stuff" (comes into Sean's room and touches shit)

LITERALLY FUCKING TOOK HIS WATCH BUT "don't touch my stuff"

Sean is a dick to Daniel sometimes but like he still acted like a good brother in the end and i would've been pissed so like good on Sean lmao

JESUS FUCK HIS HAIR

*inhales* AAAAAAAA

love the drawing of the deer smoking

wonder why they got kicked off the ranch

bRO A WEED FARM FUCK HIT ME UP SEAN WHAT U DOIN

i want a fucking joint Jesus Christ Sean fucking share? rude ass

ok so ur shirtless

good doggie

accidentally trapped the dog whoopsies

american grafitti

"fuckin ranch of hell AVOID" what the fuck happened there?

i like penny, he seems cool af

Daniel's fucking hair yikes

also why the hell he being a dick to us for? why the fuck it so hostile?

I like Finn too

"it was my turn" you had been throwing them?? for the entire morning wHY IS HE FUCKIN MAD AT US??

YOU FUCKING USED YOUR POWERS SO I WOULD MISS WHAT THE FUCK

NO FUCK YOU, YOU LITTLE ASSHOLE YOU JUST FUCKING THREW ME

Daniel is pissing me off I s2g

why is asking about the watch a "big choice"

oh okay so finn replaced sean and now daniel is just a little fucking asshole about it

big Joe big angry

he just fuckin hit her head what the fuck hell yeah I'll intervene fuck you??

why does he want to talk to me what the fuck did i do

okay if Daniel loses us this job i will fight him

am i really trimming weed rn i dont think y'all understand how much my stoner ass is jealous

uh? random ass glitch of flying scissors

okay whatever sounds effects are in the background of talking with Finn sound like lis 1 music and im freaked

if we get caught while training I'm murdering someone

new emo daniel

that music is fucking intense

"im not a kid anymore" I'm gonna fucking hit this kid I s2g

pass me the BONG

"how come you can and i can't" YOURE NINE DANIEL GODDAMN WAIT A COUPLE YEARS

I GET TO HIT THE BONG

ok Sean, you had one like mediocre bong hit and like two hits from that joint like you should not be that high. high screen is cool tho

ALSO HE DIDNT CLEAR IT THERE WAS STILL SMOKE

someone pass me more weed

I have taken 3 drinks of this beer and Sean cannot see anyone but the guy he's focusing on

i wanna stay with these guys ffs I don't want to go to mexico

fuckin daniel, hhh i feel bad that I didn't go with him but i wanna have fun :(

edgy boi now

IM ABOUT TO GET IN SO MUCH SHIT FUCK

this song is a bop tf

i feel like they haven't had as much copyrighted music in this season

nice work montage

i wish there was an option to say I'd buy Daniel some food that he wants :/ I get we have to save but fuck :/ trying to win big brother points and game won't let me

thank u Merrill im glad ur not mad at me uwu

DANIEL I SWEAR TO GOD

ARE YOU KIDDING ME

DID HE JUST

don't punch out finn i love him

why is Daniel showing him his powers like i get he threw the thing at big Joe but why this necessary,,,

can we give Daniel a haircut now like im sorry but his fuckin hair

FINN YOU CANNOT USE DANIEL TO BREAK INTO SHIT

they like took 1 drink of that beer and it was done what

you cannot fucking use daniel if they make me i will feel like shit

gimmie tattoo

ok ik I should probably say "wolf" bc of the symbolism throughout the game but like fuckin surprise me Cassidy

what is with this episode and fuckin nudity

i can literally see her nipple under the water wtf u good

I didn't talk to anyone else, just Finn and then fucked Cassidy so ya know

fucking finn are you fucking serious

shut the fuck up stop trying to convince me shit

fuck you I didn't fucking do this

fuck you finn

and you got him fucking shot you fucking proud? hm? fucking dick.

ok so Cassidy is still here, and Finn, and Merrill, and I swear to God, if fucking Daniel left us I will fucking

THERE'S A FUCKING GLASS SHARD IN MY FUCKING EYE ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

okay so uh this episode? not my favorite. at all. especially because the choices didn't fucking matter. the "big" choices are supposed to fucking matter but they didn't and that really kinda pisses me off. and idk. i didn't care for this episode but like :/ time to wait till august

[infinnite]

(self-para)

Finn was studying, yeah actually studying, when his dorm’s lights flickered on and off. Then he realized it was ‘cause of him. He was just blinking a lot. He was feeling suddenly sleepy as hell which was weird because he had like three and a half Red Bulls. Not the magical kind which gave you literal wings. He was gonna close ‘em for a hot sec. But he held his eyes closed for too long and when he opened ‘em again, Finn was someplace else.

“Shit, high school.” 

He breathed out those damned words. He was in the familiar hallway of William McKinley High School, with those stupid tiny lockers and linoleum floors which always smelled like one of the jock’s sweaty gym socks. 

‘The fuck am I here for?’ Finn wondered. 

It was damn weird ‘cause the place was empty. ‘Did I come here on a Pro-D Day again?’ Finn checked for his watch and saw the back of his hand. ‘Oh I don’t wear a watch at all. Why’d I think I’d wear one here?’ He smirked at his own absent head and searched for the exit. If memory served Finn right, there should be a way out if he took a right. Finn walked through his empty high school, awed at how nothing changed. Same advertised school lunch. Same old water fountain the kids used to spit on the handle. Same leftover pop cans on the floor rolled to the edges of the walls. Finn turned a corner and stopped when he heard the noise for the first time he arrived to his high school.

The gymnasium’s door was open and Finn could hear cheering beyond the door. He jogged up, reached for the crack, and pulled the doors open. 

“Hooooooly shit!” Finn’s own voice was swallowed by the crowd’s loud yelling. This was McKinley’s gymnasium alright, with the paper banner the student council made saying HOMECOMING. The bleachers were packed, and Finn was watching the same spectacle they were. He was totally mesmerized. Music was playing, and Finn saw some guy on stage. He had some fancy ass clothes on ‘im, like he was dressed as some kinda King, but he was too far away for Finn to see his face. 

“Finn, what are you doing here?” Said Rachel, who appeared next to him. 

“What the fuc-Rachel? How’ya here? You never went to McKinley!” Finn said.

“Finn, what are you talking about! We’re in the same Glee Club!” Rachel laughed and it made the horse on her sweater jiggle. Finn snapped his head up from her shirt’s design.

“Glee Club?? I never did that shit in high school,” Finn argued. His high school did have one of those lame show choir clubs, but Finn had never joined it. He would never, not even if a teacher blackmailed him into it. Finn hated Glee Club. It meant being a social fuckin’ pariah. Big ol’ Bully Me Badge. 

“Oh Finn, you’re so silly! Come on, we should warm up for our duet together.” Rachel reached out to touch him and Finn pulled back, scared his empathy would flare up if they made skin contact.

“Rach, no, we can’t! Remember, I’m... not right... ‘m busted. I don’t know how’ta protect ya from me...” Finn’s murmur was lost in the crowd. Rachel looked concerned for a second until she shrugged. She was tossing her hair back. Finn thought it was really hot.  

“You’re right Finn, I deserve someone much more better.” Rachel said, voicing Finn’s fears. 

“Someone like me? Madam-mo-salle?” Finn heard his voice behind him and he turned around. 

“Fuckin’ shit. You’re... me?” Finn was face to face with a mirror version of him ‘cept like the mirror was rich as fuck. Actually, it reminded Finn of what he saw in the House of Mirrors at the CCB Carnival a few years back. Rachel squealed and latched herself onto the mirror image’s side, burying her face into a royal red cape. Finn was jealous seeing Rachel hug the other Finn and the other Finn’s badass cape.

“Hello my royal subject, I’m you but intelligenter and gentlemanlier. I’m an intelligentleman. Finn Khristopher Hudson. The Khristopher starts with a K for Klassiness. I’m extraordinarily, exceedingly, exceptionally, egg-saladly smart and cultured and rich and good-looking and popular.” 

The other Finn said. Finn narrowed his eyes in a squint ‘cause he had no fuckin’ clue what the other Finn was saying, even though it did sound really smart ‘cause of the long words.

“Other Finn, like, what, dude?” Finn vocalized and he was immediately embarrassed by how dumb he sounded in comparison. Other Finn and Rachel mockingly laughed at him in a perfect a cappella. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, the in tune laughter hurt more than regular not in tune laughter. 

“Don’t you assume to convene me to be other Finn, good fellow sir, how presumingly assumingly rude of you! I’m Best Finn. Or King Finn for short.” 

Finn didn’t know if King Finn was the real shorter term for Best Finn, but he didn’t argue it. Number one, Finn had gotten a D in English and number three, That guy looked like him but a million bucks richer. He probably was a million bucks richer! The crowd all cheered, yelling King Finn.

The King Finn bowed all noble-like, and his cool cape whooshed like in comic books. Rachel let go and swooned and King Finn caught her all cool like in comic books.  

“Fuck, okay, sorry, dude-- uhhh, King dude?” Finn apologized. 

“It’s complimentary, Peasant Finn.” King Finn smirked and clapped his gloved hands. “Loyal royal subjects! Show yourselves!” 

At the sound of King Finn’s order, the gym door opened again and Finn saw his fellow NYADA classmates enter in what he remembered as the McKinley sports jerseys and outfits. Matt, Brody, Karofsky, and even Kurt! They were all dressed like Finn’s football team, the McKinley Titans, and they went by King Finn, clapping his shoulder as they flanked behind the regal lookin’ bro. 

But it was the cheerleaders who caught Finn’s eyes. All the girls at NYADA, Rachel also included somehow, were dressed in the red outfits Finn remembered so well. Marley, Tina... Finn’s throat caught a breath when he saw Q in that skirt. Then it turned into a full choking on air when he saw Elliott out of all people in that skirt, wearing a full face of makeup! 

“Elliott?” Finn said and Elliott batted his eyelashes. Finn completely lost his words when the next person showed up tho, it was Blaine, no makeup, wearing the same swishy skirt, showing his legs. 

‘What the fuck is happening?’ Finn had to turn his head away, and sideways glanced back at the King, who was laughing as the cheerleaders all went to give him a hug. Some of the girls even gave the King a kiss on the cheek! It was like some big hugging harem. This had to be the worst fuckin’ nightmare Finn ever had and one time he dreamed the clown from It became his mom. The Red Bull done Finn in.

“Jealous, Peasant?” King Finn grinned. “I know you are. You want everyone to like you like how they adore me. You wanna be me, don’t you?”

“N-nah dude, who wants ‘ta be a fuckin’ prick like you! Why are my friends lookin’ like this? Did you set ‘em up for it? Is this an illusion? ‘Tana? Did you do something?” Finn asked Santana who wasn’t hugging King Finn. She was picking her nose.

Santana laughed and her skirt swayed. “No, I have better things to do than use my magic on someone as worthless and simpleminded as you. If I illusioned you, you would never figure it out, because you’re stupid.”

Finn bit his tongue because he knew what Santana was saying was true. The crowd was laughing along to her words, muttering the words Finn remembered from high school. Finn was nothing but a dumb jock who had nothing after he graduated. Already peaked.

“See, Peasant? You know how they all see you. You know they think you’re stupid, a dumbass, an idiot, an Amiibo. They see you as a dumb fuckboy, and you don’t know how to defend yourself from this accusation. Can’t figure out how to be smart. Can’t figure out how to not be a goddamn chore to your friends ‘cause of your dumb ass. You know that’s how they see ya, it’s right there in the way they talk to ya. Am I hitting it close, my royal subject?”

“S-shut up, dude... that ain’t fair, you don’t know me...”

“But I do, Finn Christopher Hudson with the C for Classless. You’re the Lima Loser who only got a new coat of paint. Right, Kurt, that’s how the saying goes?”

Kurt was checking his nails. “Yep, whatever.” 

Finn was jealous by how easily King Finn got Kurt to agree.

“Shut up, King Dude. Shut up.”

“I know you. You say you’re over high school and you’re over being popular but that isn’t the truth at all. Mea culpa. You just didn’t feel like you deserved this crown but if you were as smart, as rich, as cultured as I am, you wouldn’t think twice about being on top. You love being on top, don’t ya, Hudson? Top dog who gets all the girls... and maybe some of the guys, heh.”

“Ok, but who hasn’t had gay thoughts?!?!”

“I know your secret, Peasant Finn. You tried so hard to keep it but you couldn’t help it, my royal subject.”

“No, it can’t be... Don’t say it!”

“You like...”

“No! No!! Fucking shut up, dude! Shut the fuck up!”

“You like Superman more than Batman! You always did! You think Batman is too edgy and honestly just a rich asshole where edgelords just dump their fantasies onto! Even if Superman is boring he’s a better hero than Batman!”

“NO! NO! YOU’RE NOT ME!! Batman is cooler because of the dark angst and shitty revenge plots!”

“Yea I am you! I’m the you that you wanna be!”

Finn was shocked by the grip on his collar. King Finn had grabbed him with both hands, and the crown slipped off his head and landed on the floor. It rolled with a loud metallic ringing noise. Suddenly they were the only two in the gymnasium. 

“You want your friends to treat you with basic respect.” King Finn was chuckling, shaking Finn violently. 

Finn gritted his teeth. “No! You’re not me! That’s not true!”

“You don’t wanna feel shamed for not knowing things. For not getting it like the rest. For being slow.”  

Finn’s own hands struggled to push the royal off of his neck.

“Shut up!”

“You know if you were better like me, you would be treated better. No one treats a poor dumb person nice. Not even yourself. Not even me.”

“Fuck off!” Finn finally shoved King Finn off of him. Finn rebalanced on his feet and headed out for the gym door. King Finn landed on his ass and laughed. 

“Yea dude, fuckin’ run off. S’what you do all the time, right? If you get in too deep, then you gotta analyze shit, and you know, you fuckin’ know you don’t got any talent for that. S’why you fuckin’ fail as an empath.”

Finn slammed the gym door behind him, and the loud sound rang in his ears, causing Finn to lean back and fall off his chair.

“Shit!” Finn hissed and opened his sleepy eyes. He was back at his room in NYADA. 

‘What the fuck?’ Finn thought and grabbed his sore head and back. ‘What a weird ass dream...’ Finn shook it off just as his phone buzzed a new text. It was from Blaine and he was asking for help. Something was wrong with Kurt.

[corvid-knight]

Questionable Sleeping Habits

Dave has issues with sleeping.

(read it on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12822006)

Anyway. Staying awake for this amount of time at one go is fucking stupid, and you know it. You really do know it. You're completely and totally aware that you should've given in and passed out maybe eight hours ago. You're also completely and totally aware of a fuckload of other shit, some of which most definitely isn't real.

Yeah. You've been lowkey hallucinating for a good few hours—how many hours you don't actually know; your time sense goes out the window when you pull this shit. Apparently the Knight-y Time-y powers don't prevent that from happening, which is probably a blessing because this way if you want to watch a clock you're gonna have to find one, and you know for a fact you'll get distracted with trying to confirm the unreality of the ghosts you're seeing before you do that.

Damn, but the ghosts suck. They're not even ghosts, you've hung out with ghosts on the not-too-rare occasions when your dreams take a left turn into the dream bubbles, and these are just shadows out of your head. (Or you could call them what the fuck they are, hallucinations. But that's too close to admitting how dangerously far you are into sleep deprivation.)

(But then again you just thought that, so you know you're admitting it by calling it anything else.)

There's Bro, shadowing you, a step behind and a step to your left, katana hanging loose in one hand and blood dripping down from the messy hole in his gut, leaving tiny smoking stains where each drop hits the floor. There's John, pacing back and forth in front of you, his face twisted as he snarls imprecations you can't quite hear at you. (Sometimes you wish your brain would just give in and cough up an aural component to the hallucinations. You don't think it could be worse than trying to lipread and find out what the fuck you did to make John hate you. Except of course it's not John. The only one here to hate you, is you.) There's a kid that you don't want to admit is your warped and imperfect version of yourself at six years old, grabbing at ghost-Bro's legs and crying soundlessly as his hands pass through.

They're not ghosts, you tell yourself. Not fucking ghosts.

Jesus fuck you need to stop walking through the halls. You need to pick a nice quiet corner in a room nobody uses—there's a lot of those here, there was absolutely no need to build this palace as stupid-big and fancy as it is but Roxy wanted to and there wasn't a reason not to either—find a spot nobody's going to pull you out of for twelve or fifteen hours, and just fucking crash.

Otherwise? You'll end up passed out somewhere embarrassing, get the chewing-out you know you so richly deserve. You should just take a shortcut to that step. Find Karkat, find John, find fucking Jade if she's around and let whichever one you come across get a good look at how out of your fucking head you are right now. Only problem is, you don't trust yourself to not simply dissolve at any contact, and even though you're mostly good with expressing emotions like a normal(ish) human being (usually), right now you have Bro's blank but disapproving gaze on you, and you can't fucking think of curling up next to someone and talking to/at them until you can manage to fall asleep. That's an act of weakness, or he'd have seen it as one. Or it's an admittance of weakness, and he'd count that as worse.

The kid—lil' Dave, the stupidest fucking ghost here—sobs, violently enough that you think you might hear a faint whisper of it, and abandons Bro, dodging ghost-John's kick and flinging himself at you. You have to close your eyes before he gets close enough to (not) touch you. You can't fucking stand the look of pain on his face when you turn out not to be a safe haven either.

With sight removed, sound decides to make a surprise appearance in the Amazing Dave Shitshow. It's garbled and horrible and loud enough to make you flinch, angry voices and a sustained metallic whisper of a sword being drawn and pained panicked breathing all jumbled up into what hell must sound like if it could be bothered to exist at all. Still better than the visual equivalent, so you keep walking with your eyes closed. Not like there's anything to run into.

Except after some length of time that's more than seconds and less than minutes, that's precisely what you do. You run into someone, or maybe they run into you but probably not, and because your eyes are shut and your hands are shoved into your pockets you eat dirt, pretty much. Your shades go somewhere that isn't in front of your face, the air whuffs out of your lungs as you hit the floor, and the voices in your head go mostly silent as your eyes open.

Fuck fuck fuck—it's him. Bro. Him. Leaning over you, shades reflecting you on the ground in front of him, he's not a fucking hallucination because you just ran into—

"Dave, what the hell. You alright?"

Wait. No. Stop. He's not cold or annoyed, he's. Confused, and not bothering to hide it.

"Dirk." You don't realize you're saying it aloud until he raises an eyebrow at the relief in your voice. "Uh..."

Ghost-John is gone. Ghost-Bro is standing a fair distance away from Dirk, arms crossed over his wound, studying him. And lil' Dave...well, he's enough to distract you out of finishing your sentence; he's wrapped around Dirk's legs, burying his face in Dirk's worn-out jeans and peeking out at you.

Well, shit. This probably says something about your subconscious, but you're not totally sure what.

"Dave." When you look up at him again—a lot more guiltily than you should—he's holding out one hand. You have no idea why. "You okay, dude?"

"Yeah, of course, sure, I—" can't take your fucking eyes off the kid holding onto Dirk like he's a lifeline— "I'm fine, why—why wouldn't I be okay—"

"I don't know, maybe because you're on the ground? I mean, if I've managed to permanently damage you by running you over, I feel like I should be offering more apologies than I am."

Oh. Yeah. That's what the hand's for.

"Sorry." You reach up, and he pulls you to your feet without even wavering. Damn, either you're lighter than you thought or he's got some serious muscles somewhere in that skinny frame. It's probably good that he's strong, though, because your vision goes weird and wavery for a second, and the only reason you don't go right back down again is that Dirk grabs your shoulder. "...fuck. Sorry."

"Don't be." He's frowning as he steadies you, but it's got a flavour of concern instead of annoyance. "You're not okay, though."

Damn.

"I'm fine, I—where are my shades?" You know precisely where they are. You can see them (and ghost-Bro trying to nudge at them with a foot that just overlaps like a badly exposed photo) out of the corner of your eye. But if you don't let on that you know where they are, if you don't look, maybe Dirk will have to.

"Oh." He does glance down, but his hand doesn't leave your shoulder until he spots the shades and has to step over to snag them. Bro sidesteps right before they would've touched—away from you, thankfully, instead of towards. Even if he's not real you don't want him near you. "...I think they're okay."

"What?" You mentally curse yourself as Dirk looks up from the shades in his hands to you, his face going more confused than ever. "I. I mean. Ah, fuck." The wall is right behind you; you step backwards to lean against it. "How about you just hand them over and I'll fuck off and leave you alone? That work?"

"I'd rather work out what's going on with you and make a decent effort to fix it, actually." He's absently turning your shades over in his hands, watching you.

Lil' Dave hasn't let go of Dirk's legs yet. Ghost-Bro's just now decided to show some interest in the kid, though, adjusting his grip on his sword in a way you're all too familiar with; it has one meaning, and that's your ass getting kicked. Even knowing he's a figment of your imagination you wince and almost reach for your own weapon.

And Dirk catches that. Of course he does. You can't see his eyes go a fraction of a centimeter wider, but you can see the set of his mouth go from worried to wary. Okay, if you're scaring him it's time to clue him in on the state you're in. At least to some extent.

"I'm, uh..." Admittedly, that's easier said than done. Or easier thought than said. Whatever. Closing your eyes makes it easier, because you can't see him and you might not even hear his response over the screaming in your head. "Having some issues. Seeing shit."

"You're what?" His voice cuts through everything, though, and the phantom noise almost shuts up as Dirk's hands come down on your shoulders. He's gentle. You still flinch. "What, did you manage to alchemize LSD or some shit...?"

"No!" That came out a hell of a lot louder than you meant to be, but Dirk doesn't seem surprised. Maybe you just think you're being loud. "No, I swear...just. Stupid. Haven't slept in awhile, that's all."

You risk opening your eyes, and immediately regret it, because just like Dirk's got ahold of you, Bro has the kid. He's bleeding. Of course he is. Bro doesn't seem to give a fuck that you're watching, but lil' Dave sees you. He's fucking crying, mouth moving in what's got to be a plea for help, and you're not going to be able to give it.

"...Dave? Dave." Dirk's tone is patient, and you have a feeling that time just slipped a little for you here. He's been saying your name awhile, hasn't he? And when you manage to focus on him you realize that he's taken his shades off, tucked them into the neckline of his shirt next to yours. "You're going to go to sleep now, alright? I can stick around if the shit you're seeing is that bad—"

"It is." The only reason your voice doesn't crack is because you keep the volume so low. If you look away from Dirk's amber eyes, you're going to see Bro. If you see Bro you're going to have a full-scale meltdown, and Karkat's the only one who's seen that and knows how to handle it. Falling apart for Dirk is unthinkable. "I, it's, I can't—please."

Nice. Coherent. But then again you want to cry for no fucking reason at all. Dirk just shakes his head a little, pulls your arm around his shoulders and wraps one arm around you, and pulls you down the hall. You don't even know which direction he's steering you—your eyes are, again, closed.

Time slips and folds and realigns and at some point you're leaning against him as he gets a door open, and you're sobbing because Bro was there when you couldn't keep your eyes closed, and he's not pushing you off as you do what the figment of your imagination did before and cling to him. He's getting you to lie down on some fancy couch that you're going to get snot and tears all over, and he's gently reminding you which version of your brother he is, and you're not letting go of his shirt.

God, this is going to be embarrassing later.

Right now, though? Right now you cry and you babble at Dirk and he nods and makes noises that you really hope are sympathy and not disgust. What are you even telling him? Your mind's on autopilot and so is your mouth, but you hear shit about how you can't sleep and you don't want to sleep, how dreams about the game and before the game seem more real than anything else sometimes and you don't want to dream, you can't handle waking up next to Karkat and having him ask what makes you whimper and beg and wake up almost screaming. You hear yourself spill your guts and you hear Dirk telling you, calmly and quietly, that he knows, that if you dream he'll wake you up, that it won't get better if you don't sleep.

Dirk talks you down from the wave of unreasoning fear you're riding, and when he pries your fingers off his shirt he wraps his hands around yours. He doesn't stop talking, either. As far as you know he doesn't shut up at all, and his voice is all that you carry down into your dreams.

...for once, they aren't bad. For the first time in a good while the dreams are almost okay. You forget them even as you pass through them, and when you start to come back to consciousness they're just...gone.

Dirk's gone too when you finally wake up, but someone's curled up on the sofa against you, someone reassuringly, comfortingly warm and making soft noises in his sleep. Or maybe not in his sleep, because when you sigh in relief to have him wrapped around you Karkat makes a deeper, intentional noise and moves his arm to lace his fingers through yours.

"So he called you in." You could make it a question. Or be more specific. But nah, you're still too exhausted for that. "You pissed at me?"

"Don't be a dumbass." You swear that he intentionally makes his voice get deeper when he's this close to you, just so you can feel it through contact as much as you can hear it, just because he knows the immediate effect of that on you is to trip every stress switch you have, turn every single one off. Nice. Better than nice. You don't have a word for how nice. "The kind of pissed I am is at the universe for fucking you up to where you do this shit and scare poor defenseless Dirk senseless over whether you're actually losing it."

"Shit. I'm gonna need to apologize to him, huh?"

Karkat's grip on you tightens even though you didn't move to get up. (And you won't, not in the immediate future. He's warm and you're still tired.) "Later."

"Later," you agree firmly. And, because you legit can't remember half of what you probably said, "So how pissed is he?"

You can feel Karkat's exasperated growl as much as you hear it. "I didn't say he was pissed at you!"

"Doesn't answer the question, babe."

"Shut up." When you start to point out that you're not that easily silenced he pulls you half-onto his chest, one hand coming up to start roughly-gently fingercombing your hair, proving that you are, in fact, that easily silenced. "He's not pissed at you...you talked, that's all. Got confused—"

"Confused isn't the word for it."

"—talked about your bro, talked to him like he was your bro—"

"Fuck." Okay, that's actually the worst thing you could've done.

"Shh."

"He knows about Bro, he's gonna think I think he's horrible—"

"I said shush." Karkat's sharp-ish claws dig into your scalp, not deep enough to hurt but definitely enough to make you shiver and distract you out of finishing your sentence. "He knows you don't think he's horrible."

"Let me up so I can text him." That's half a joke. You don't even know if your phone's in your pocket. Karkat whines when you try to wiggle away, though, pulling you all the way on top of him and somehow managing to flip you over so you're lying on your stomach, on his chest. Holy fuck this is perfect. "Hey..."

"Don't 'hey' me." It's funny how easy you can tell a mock-growl from a real one. He growls again when you start laughing—the vibration tickles, it feels awesome—and probably would've started complaining about your inability to be serious for one goddamn minute, except you pull yourself up enough to give him the messiest, worst possible kiss before he can.

He starts laughing after barely three seconds of that, kisses you back through the laughter, and still lets you go when you slide back down to curl up on top of him, hiccuping around the last couple giggles. God, you're stupid, but this time it's good-stupid. Love-stupid instead of just stupid-stupid.

Karkat's still laughing, and purring through it, as he starts running his fingers through your hair again. "Idiot."

"Very idiot. Constantly. That's my only possible state of being—"

"Shush." God, you should not be so easy to shut up, all he's got to do is mess with your hair and pet you like a cat and you're done, it's that simple and he knows it. "You still need to sleep, don't you?"

"Mm." That may just be the most neutral noise you've ever made. You hiccup again. "Do I?"

"You do." Karkat's voice is firm as he drapes the arm that's not attached to the hand tangling in your hair over you. "You definitely do. And you're officially required to come lay down with me at least until I fall asleep every night now, just so you know. That way I can tell just how much sleep you're skipping."

"Like you—" another hiccup; damn— "like you sleep more than I do."

"Damn right I sleep more than you do. At least I try to sleep every night and don't just wander around like a cluckbeast with its head cut off—"

"That's so not how you use that idiom."

"Shush. Shut up. I'll use your idioms any way I fucking please." He huffs, then swallows a chuckle as you hiccup again; you can feel him shake a bit from holding it in, trying to keep up the mask of indignation. "Besides, if you cut something's head off they don't run around. Falls down and bleeds everywhere, maybe. I've seen—"

"Chickens ain't exactly people."

"They have one head, right? Pretty much the same." Karkat shakes his head when you start giggling again at that comment, patting your shoulder gently as the laughter dies down and the hiccups really don't. "Stop that."

You hiccup as he says that, and try very hard not to start laughing again. "That's not how it works—"

He makes a rude noise and then hums for a second, considering. "Okay, John told me about this—"

"Please, spare—" hiccup— "spare me."

"Nope. If you hiccup again I'll kiss you." He grins proudly at you.

"How is that going to work? Now I have a reason to try to hiccup."

"Exactly." That smug smile isn't going anywhere, so you just roll your eyes at him and wiggle into a more comfortable position to wait for another hiccup.

And of course he's right, it doesn't happen. "Fuck."

Karkat looks so fucking proud of himself it's ridiculous. "See? John was right for once—"

"I don't care..." You drag the last word out into a complaining whine. "Rather have kisses and hiccups than none of either."

"Hey, I didn't say I wouldn't kiss you if you didn't hiccup." Karkat's very capable of moving you anywhere he wants to, and he uses that ability now (god damn but you love the fact that your boyfriend could probably throw you through a wall) and pulls you up to kiss you again, maybe a little bit less messy than when you were the one starting it but not for lack of trying by either of you.

He's the one who finally pulls away, shaking his head as you immediately try to get back to his face and holding you off easily. "Dave, c'mon."

"Mm, no. Don't even try appealing to my better nature on this. I don't have one." He's not going to cave easy, though, so you relax and shift to wrap your hands around his wrists, not even trying to pull his hands off your chest. You like them there very much, thanks. "We both know I'm a stubborn lil' bitch who's never gonna stop 'til he gets what he wants—"

"Oh my god, shh." He pulls you down, cradling you against his chest, and maybe that's not a kiss but it's good enough. Better than good enough. "Making out can go on hold until you fucking sleep."

"Hmmm..." Yes, you could argue with him and maybe even win because he doesn't actually want to stop, but on the other hand...he's warm, he's purring, he's back to playing with your hair with one hand...yeah you're done. "I wake up, you're getting kissed whether or not you're up."

His soft laugh is another layer of vibration under you. "Fair enough. Sleep, kisses, food—"

"More kisses."

"Okay, food then more kisses, then you can talk to Dirk if you still want to—"

"Don't want to. Still need to." Apologize to him, really. You already want to start worrying about how the hell you're going to say that, but no. Not just now.

"You do not need to, he understands—you know what, forget it." Karkat huffs, wraps his arms around you tighter, and settles down to just mumbling about how fucking stubborn you are and how you need to listen to what he says and then actually do it. Underneath that, he's purring.

Between the two soothing sounds, you end up asleep faster than you plan to admit.

[blatherkatt]

Title: The Calm Is Terrifying When The Storm Is All You Know [Homestuck]

Chapter 27: Surviving 

Summary: There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Implied abuse (physical and emotional), threatened violence, group-led abuse, neglect, enabling of abuse and neglect, alcohol mention, mentioned terrorist activities

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

Dave idled outside the bathroom, keeping himself alert for any sounds that weren’t the gentle noise of the shower within. It was about three in the morning, which was about the only time that either he or Dirk could safely snag a quick shower without alerting Bro’s men, and Dirk had been pretty visibly frustrated with the now-going-on-three-day-old hair gel situation, so Dave was keeping careful watch.

The bathroom was mercifully close to the cellar, and thank fuck for that, because helping Dirk get up there was a fuckin’ ordeal. Dave only came up to about Dirk’s chin, and even with Dirk being pretty skinny, he was still a lot heavier than Dave himself. And he still couldn’t put any weight on his bad leg, which meant that helping Dirk move basically amounted to half-carrying him. What Dirk really needed was probably a cast and a pair of crutches, but they weren’t getting that any time soon, so, fuck it.

On the whole, at least, Dave felt like he was adjusting to things again. It still sucked, but having Dirk around helped, and he’d managed to filch a knife from the kitchen, so that also helped. Wasn’t quite a sword, but evidently he wasn’t allowed to keep the blade down in the basement on account of losing his regular sword to the police, and he wanted to make sure he had something to defend himself.

There was a knock from inside the bathroom, and then Dirk’s voice. Dave shook his head. He’d been so distracted thinking, he hadn’t even noticed the sound of the water turning off, damn. Maybe he wasn’t as used to being on alert as he thought.

“Hey, uh,” said Dirk, “Are you sure you don’t know where I can get some shaving gel and a razor?”

“Sorry, man,” Dave said, “I’m pretty sure Bro’s not to keen on either, and I’m not gonna risk stealing from anyone else.”

He heard Dirk sigh, and then grumble something about “looking like a fucking barbarian.” Dave had to hide a snicker.

“What, man, you not a fan of stubble?” Dave teased.

“Look,” said Dirk, “I have a very specific way I like to present myself. If other guys wanna rock the ‘couldn’t be assed to care about my appearance so I just left this spiky shit all over my face’ look, that’s good for them. Some of them can even pull it off pretty well. Me personally? I prefer to look like I give a shit.”

“Alright, princess, c’mon,” said Dave, rolling his eyes. “Hurry and get dressed, I don’t wanna push our luck.”  

More grumbling. A couple minutes of sounds of shifting fabric and at one point a quiet swear, and Dirk said, “Almost done, just gotta…try and dry my hair here.”

Dave took it as a cue to step in. Dirk was fully clothed and leaning heavily against the bathroom counter, furiously trying to towel off his hair. Dave stepped in and tried to help him out, and nearly choked on his own spit laughing when he tugged the towel off.

“Dude, your hair looks like it’s wilting,” he snorted.

Dirk groaned. “Ugh,” he said, “At this point, it’s gonna take at least an hour of hot water and a small miracle to get the gel out.”

“Sorry, man,” said Dave. “Hey, though, maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll go out on a raid, and you can get properly fucking cleaned off.”

Dirk made a thoughtful sound. He turned towards Dave, his face suddenly serious. “Why do we bother keeping quiet?” he asked.

Dave stared at Dirk hard for a moment. “Uh, because we were told to?” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, which it was, what the fuck, Dirk. “Besides, Bro doesn’t have an excuse for who you are and why you’re here yet, dude. And except for Ben, everyone here thinks he and I are half brothers, and until they work out a story for who the fuck you are, we gotta keep you a secret.”

“Exactly,” said Dirk. “We could threaten to be noisy, get ourselves some leverage. Maybe it won’t get us out of here, but it might get the old man off our back, at least, if we threaten to give away that I’m here and that he’s been lying to them.”

Dave could tell that the shades didn’t hide any of the way his face lit up in terror at the suggestion. He could feel the  color draining from his cheeks. “Holy shit, dude, no,” he said. “What, are you fuckin’ crazy? No, man, just — don’t make trouble, let’s just keep quiet and out of the way for now.”

“Why not fight back?” Dirk insisted.

“Dirk, it’s three in the fucking morning,” Dave hissed, “I don’t — can we not have this conversation right now? Please? Let’s just get you back down to the cellar. Quietly.”

Dirk looked ready to speak again, but, thank fuck, decided to drop it. Dave moved to help him walk, and Dirk draped his arm around Dave’s shoulders.

“I really am sorry about this,” Dirk mumbled.

“It’s fine,” Dave said, for probably the hundredth time, “S’ not your fault your leg’s broke.”

“Do you have anything yet?”

Karkat hated the way his voice kept sliding into worried chirps, but he couldn’t fucking help it. His blood pusher was in his throat, pounding away and forcing every sound he made to come out strangled and desperate and needy and, fuck, he needed to know that Dave was okay, he needed Dave to be safe right now, he couldn’t deal with this.

Sollux groaned and didn’t turn around, still rapidly clicking away at the keys of his ungainly mess of hybridized husktops, formed half of Alternian tech and half of Earth’s less organic hardware. It was a fucked up pile of wires and miniature beehouse mainframes (complete with bees everywhere, because of fucking course there were, how did Sollux ever get anything done) and fuck knew what else, all looking to be connected in ways that shouldn’t work but apparently did.

Dave had had a word for shit like that. He’d brought it up, once. ‘Jerry-rigged?’ Karkat had said it was a weird fucking word and that humans were weird for having a word for it, but Dave had explained that the word existed because a lot of times when shit broke down in the middle of nowhere humans would deal by figuring out a short-term way to get the thing working again until they could get to a place with the parts needed to actually fix it, and fuck thinking about that conversation was just making Karkat even more worried about Dave. He never should have left, he shouldn’t have left the Lalondes alone, he shouldn’t have —

“No, KK, I haven’t found anything new in the five fucking minutes since you last asked me,” said Sollux. “And I will be able to sort through this and have a better chance of finding a lead much faster if you stop pacing so much, sit down, and shut up, so please do that and let me do my job.”

Karkat gnashed his teeth together, growling, and resumed pacing.

“The fuck are you doing, anyway?! How is sitting at a computer helping this? Where the fuck is Dave!”

“I’m checking everything I can is what I’m doing, asshole,” Sollux snapped. Kanaya hissed a soft breath, her eyes nervously flicking between the other two. Terezi’d dumped them both here yesterday before rushing back out to investigate, and Sollux had been working at this pretty much the entire time since then. There were a lot of empty bottles and cans of energy drinks from both planets littered around him. (Karkat was pretty sure some of the Alternian ones weren’t even allowed on Earth; he hadn’t even been able to get a bottle of a fucking harmless sleep aid through customs when he’d immigrated to Earth. Something about it being dangerous to humans?) “I’m checking security cameras in a wide radius around the Lalonde house, especially on the roads most likely that he would’ve travelled, hopefully I can get a fucking photo of whatever car they used to abduct those two and maybe even figure out where they’re going. I’m also checking to see if any of the people suspected of being connected to Strider have been seen in the area, if they’re staying in motels or some shit, and — look, it’s a lot, and I need to pay full attention for any fucking clues I can dig out of this, and I need you to not be pulling my attention away from it. Stop fucking pacing.”

Karkat growled again and turned on his heel, stalking back across the room.

This room was too small, fuck. He shouldn’t be in here, cooped up, he should be out there, helping look for Dave, he needed to be doing something, fucking anything! He needed to find Dave!

“KK, seriously, sit the fuck down!” Sollux snapped, whirling in his chair. Karkat bristled and bared his teeth at him.

“How about you shut up and work faster!”

“I can’t fucking think with the sounds of you stomping around and grinding your teeth together, it’s like trying to do brain surgery next to a rabid cholerbear! Sit the fuck down and let me concentrate, you dense nooksniffer!”

“Give me something to do, then!” Karkat whined (fuck that stupid noise for coming out of his throat, fuck everything). “I can’t just sit here with my fucking thumbs up my ass, not while Dave’s in trouble, I need to —”

“Oh, my fucking god, Karkat,” Sollux rolled his eyes, “Get the fuck over your stupid pale crush for ten fucking minutes, we get that you love him sooo much but I have a fucking job to do.”

Karkat froze in place for a moment. Just a moment, stunned into silence born of pure fury, that Sollux had the fucking nerve — he lunged.

Kanaya stopped him before his enraged shriek made it halfway out of his throat.

“Stop this, both of you!” she snapped. “This isn’t helping anything! Karkat,” she said turning to him, “I understand, I’m frightened too. This is an awful situation, but you can’t take this out on Sollux —”

He didn’t wait to hear it. He struggled out of Kanaya’s grip and made a run for the door.

“Don’t even fucking think about leaving this room,” Sollux said, already back to typing away. “You’re under protective custody, you’re not going anywhere, dumbass.”

“Sollux, really, an ounce of sympathy would not be out of place, don’t you think?” Kanaya snapped.

“Oh, yeah, so sorry for all the shit Karkat’s dealing with, let me do my fucking job already.”

Karkat whirled into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him, curling up in the ablution trap and finally allowing himself to burst into the terrified tears he’d been holding back for what felt like an eternity.

Dirk hadn’t been expecting anyone other than Dave or the old man to come down to the cellar, especially after Dave’s earlier if still confusing insistence on keeping Dirk’s presence a secret. So he was surprised to no small extent when, just after Dave had left to deal with the day’s chores, another man came down. It took a while in the dark, but Dirk pieced together after a while that this was the same man who’d been with Derek when they’d been taken.

“Hey, there, Dirk,” he said, his face gentle. Dirk wished it wasn’t. The guy had a smile that would’ve been charming if he hadn’t been so chummy with the old man. “Jesus, you got big,” he continued. “I know you probably don’t remember me at all, but I was in the mall with your father. Last time I saw you, you were still just a toddler.”

Dirk narrowed his eyes.

“The name’s Ben,” he went on. Dirk thought hard. Fuck, Mom had said something about another friend from the mall, what had that name been? Dave had reacted to it weird — was this that same guy, then? That story had been months ago, and Dirk hadn’t thought much of it at the time, just the drunken ramblings his mother was prone to. “I do wish we were meeting again under better circumstances, but, ah, well.”

“What do you want,” said Dirk. “I’m not gonna join you and the old man’s stupid ‘cause,’ he already tried that, if that’s what you think you’re doing.”

“Yeah, I heard about that,” said Ben. “Tried to tell him to be a little more tactful about it, but tact has never been his strong suit, y’know?”

The guy kept acting casual, and it made Dirk want to fucking punch the damn smile right off his face. If this guy was the one Mom had talked about, then he’d been her friend, too, and he’d known where Dave was for years. He could have done something, told her where Dave was, told the police, maybe rescued Dave himself, fuck.

“No amount of fucking tact is going to change my mind,” Dirk said. “I’m not interested in helping the people who stole my baby brother.”

He looked to think for a moment, eyes up towards the ceiling, before shrugging and nodding his head. “Yeah, I can see how that’d give you some trouble,” said Ben. “I didn’t exactly agree with Derek’s choices back then, either, but it’s too late to change that now. So, alright, maybe you’re not interested in helping right away, that’s fine. But maybe you could use a friend around here? I help your brother out as much as I can, and I can extend the same to you, if you’ll let me.”

“I’m not interested.” Dirk didn’t hesitate. He had no intention of putting an ounce of thought into any offers made by his father or any of the bastard’s fucking friends.

Ben leaned back, an eyebrow raised in a sort of amused disbelief. He huffed something halfway to a laugh and shook his head. “Every bit the suspicious bastard your father ever was,” he said softly, and Dirk felt himself bristle all over. “Kid,” Ben continued, “I’m trying to help you. I know it seems shitty now, but it’s gonna get a lot worse before it gets better, and I can promise you I’m the only friend you got here. I’m not trying to trick you.”

“Help me how, exactly?” Dirk spat. “Because unless you plan on getting me and Dave out of here, I’m not interested in your help.”

“Stubborn, too,” Ben muttered. “Apple really didn’t fall far from the tree with this one.” He shrugged. “I’ll let you think about it, then,” he said, almost sounding disappointed. “It’s an open offer, so if y’ change your mind, just let me know.”

“Fuck off.”

There was a sort of unspoken hierarchy to Bro’s band of Merry Fuckheads. Dave was, of course, so far down at the bottom, it wasn’t even worth pointing out, it was so fuckin’ obvious, but he did work to keep track of where everybody else sat. Mostly because knowing that gave him a clearer picture of whose way he needed to stay out of.

Bro sat right at the top, obviously. So high up he was practically untouchable. The Usuals, especially any newbies, tended to treat him with almost a sort of reverence, it woulda been fuckin’ ridiculous if Bro hadn’t legitimately been that cool a dude. Ben was the second in command, but only because he was the only person Bro completely trusted. If Dave was honest, Ben was too nice for most of those guys. But he did important work, and Bro’s decisions were law, so even if Ben wasn’t exactly intimidating, the rest of the pack did listen to what he said.

From there, shit got worse as it went down the pile.

It had started off with just a few people, back when this had started when Dave was only ten. The leadership then had been five dudes including Bro and Ben. Of that group, only three of them were still around — one had died in a raid, and the other one had gotten it into his head to try and usurp Bro, and…Dave wasn’t sure what had happened to him, actually, but he wasn’t around anymore. Fuckin’ Beardy was the only survivor of that group besides Bro and Ben, though, and he was also a special case when it came to who Dave watched out for; he wasn’t the number three in the rankings right now, but he was still pretty high up there, and yet, he definitely didn’t like Dave. He wouldn’t say it to Bro’s face, but the guy had made it plenty clear to the others and to Dave himself that in his opinion, Bro shoulda dumped Dave on the side of some abandoned road somewhere years ago. ‘Ditch the fuckin’ dead weight,’ he always liked to say. Dave didn’t really like that big meathead either, so at least it was mutual. He didn’t tend to throw things at Dave, at least; he only tended to be a big problem when someone else started something and he joined in. Dude was big enough that Dave really couldn’t do much to fight him off.

The rest of the higher ranked members of the Usuals, though, actually sorta tended to leave Dave alone. It was the guys at the bottom of the pile who went after him.

They’d joined in late, and they’d seen how Bro was always harsh with Dave, and Beardy’s disdain, and they’d peer pressured themselves right in on the action. The newer or lower ranking a guy was, the more he’d go out of his way to make Dave’s life miserable. Within reason, of course. Bro would only tolerate so much of that shit. Thankfully, most of the lowest ranking dudes of the dozen men that made up the full force of Bro’s inner circle weren’t here yet. From the sounds of it, they’d been the ones who’d been leading that attack down in Ohio.

Tim had been scowling at Dave since…well, since yesterday, really. Dave hadn’t addressed it mainly because he knew what was coming. Tim had been the guy who’d had to haul his ass out at fuck o’clock back in April to tell Dave about the plan that Dave had then completely blown. It was a matter of time before the asshole picked a fight about it. Probably he was waiting for Bro to be a bit distracted, or calculating a way of going about chewing Dave out without overstepping.

Dave was focusing very hard on sweeping right now, and avoiding anything that might be construed as eye contact, because he did not wanna deal with Tim today if he could avoid it. Unfortunately Tim still took up the initiative anyway, the moment Bro was distracted talking to that guy in the stupid hunter’s hat. Careful not to actually touch Dave, Tim cornered him in the kitchen, leaning in close to talk in quiet, angry tones.

“Dude, lay off,” Dave muttered. “I wanna get shit done before I get in trouble for taking too long, what do you want?”

“I wanna know what the fuck you thought you were doing back in June,” Tim hissed. “Your fuckup made me look like a goddamn chump! D’you know how much shit I’ve had to put up with ever since that fuckin’ fiasco?”

“Lay off, man, I’ve heard it already,” Dave mumbled.

“I don’t think you have,” said Tim, pressing his hand to the wall in a casual gesture Dave knew to read as a threat. “Not near enough, at least. I had to work my ass off to get this high up, way fuckin’ more than the others ever did since I live out here instead of down in Texas. I have done so much to earn the right to be here, and you nearly ripped away everything I’ve built in one fell fuckin’ swoop, not to mention getting a couple real promising new recruits killed!”

Dave gulped. Oh. Yeah, he’d. Forgotten about that. Shit, Tim had been in charge of the actual rescue mission, too? Fuck.

“Now half these guys don’t respect me no more, and I can’t tell what your brother thinks of me, and I’m supposed to just let you walk away as happy as you like? I don’t fuckin’ think so.”

“The fuck do you want me to do about it?” Dave snapped.

“I —“

“That’s enough, Tim,” came Bro’s voice, calm but stern. Dave tried not to be too obvious about the relieved sigh he heaved.

“But — C’mon, Derek,” Tim said, “It’s — he’s the reason that mission didn’t work, I got every right to get some fuckin’ payback, don’t I?”

“He’s my responsibility,” Bro said. “I’m dealing with it.”

Tension lingered in the air for a moment. God, Dave hated fuckin’ standoffs, shit like this happened all the time with the Usuals. It was a way of testing things, Dave knew — there was an unspoken hierarchy to these guys, and whenever there was any sort of argument or dare or bet or what have you, it was a challenge to the order. Who’s the toughest, who’s gonna back down first. Dave was never a participant on account of he was so low in the ranking that even entertaining the idea was a fuckin’ joke to end all jokes. Didn’t mean Dave couldn’t get caught in the crossfire, though, not to mention that the loser of these interactions tended to turn their frustration on Dave. They all acted like a bunch of fuckin’ animals, exerting whatever dominance they could to feel better about themselves.

And Dave’s behavior back in June had apparently dropped Tim a good few levels in the rankings. This was gonna be hell until Tim felt he’d gotten his payback. God dammit.

The standoff didn’t last long, at least. In the same way Dave was hilariously low, they all put Bro up on so high of a pedestal that the only one who really dared challenge him was Ben, and even that was pretty rare. And also less of a challenge and more just Ben suggesting a different strategy. So it wasn’t much of a surprise when Tim broke off eye contact (or. Well. Eye to shades contact), shot a final glare at Dave, and muttered darkly all the way back to his spot on the couch.

This had been Dave’s life pretty much since the fight-the-trolls shit had started, about six years ago now, and as awful as it was, he’d sort of just accepted that this was how things were and never questioned it. He was trying not to question it now, on a way more conscious level, because he was scared he’d give away that he was thinking traitor thoughts or mumble something out loud like a fucking idiot, but.

Things hadn’t been like this at all with Mom and Rose and Dirk.

He’d spent ages trying to work out the pecking order, only to come to the conclusion that…there wasn’t one. Even with Dirk and Rose throwing down, there wasn’t really a clear victor, and the only time anyone had acted like the authority figure was when Mom stepped in and stopped them from fighting. It had been so confusing for so long, trying to work that shit out, because the on the surface it had looked like there should be another hierarchy, but…nothing. They just…helped each other and treated everyone with maybe not a ton of respect but enough that nobody was the butt of the joke, not even Dave.

He kind of missed it.

Shit, no, that was exactly the kind of thing he couldn’t be letting himself think. Maybe Dirk didn’t get why, but Dave did, he knew better. Letting even a hint of dissent slip through was asking for trouble, and he didn’t want any more of that than he absolutely had to take.

He got back to work for a while, trying very hard to act like what had gone down hadn’t bugged him at all. He wasn’t sure if the Usuals bought it, but Ben didn’t seem to. Soon as he was able, Ben tugged Dave out onto the creaky-ass front porch, asking, “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, don’t sweat it,” Dave said. “Even if he had tried anything, Tim’s slow as shit. Guy couldn’t hit me if I was tied down to a chair, duct taped to the side of a barn, and also given like the opposite of whatever the fuck happened to the Flash.”

Ben laughed softly for a moment before his face darkened. “Glad to hear it. Be careful, though, alright? He’s still fuming, and Bruce is gonna be getting here in a couple hours with the rest of the gang.”

“Fffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” Dave groaned. Bruce was the new guy as far as the Usuals were concerned. He’d only managed to claw his way onto the bottom rungs of the top of the heap a couple weeks before Dave had gotten arrested. New blood in the Usuals always meant a new guy going out of his way to try and prove himself, typically by showing off how dominant and tough and manly he was by picking on Dave, but Bruce took it to a whole ‘nother level.

“And Derek’s…still pretty fuckin’ pissed off about everything, too, so he might be more lenient than usual with the boys,” Ben cautioned. “I’ve had to talk him out of some pretty drastic punishments. He’s still trying to figure out what to do with you.”

“Shit.” Dave ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, thanks for keeping me posted, I know it gets you some flack from the guys sometimes, just. Shit.”

“Ah, don’t worry about me,” Ben said. “I got Derek on my side, they’re not gonna try anything stupid. I’ll try and keep them off your back as best I can, just take care of yourself, alright?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Dave griped.

“In the meantime,” Ben grinned, “I did manage to get some actual food for you and your brother. S’ in the fridge, should be enough for both of ya.”

“Shit, yeah, thanks man,” Dave said. “Was startin’ to get dizzy, fuck.”

“Alright, that’s all I needed to say for now,” Ben said. “Go ahead and take a lunch break, before you keel over.”

Dirk was ready for another argument when the door swung open again, but it was just Dave this time.

“Hey, guess what I got,” he said, the door clanking shut behind him. Dirk could hear the grin in his voice even before he saw it.

“Something useful, I hope,” Dirk said, “Because I haven’t been able to come up with any ideas, and I’m open to suggestions.”

“Real fuckin’ food, check it out,” Dave said, flopping down and tossing Dirk a wrapped-up sandwich. “Ben came through big time, thank fuck.”

Dirk narrowed his eyes at the food. Looked like it’d been bought from a store, wrapped in clear plastic and definitely a more substantial meal than anything they’d been given so far in their time here. But…coming from that guy, Dirk wasn’t sure he wanted to trust it.

“It’s not poison, man, eat it,” Dave said, already in the process of scarfing down his own. “Like, a lot of these assholes I wouldn’t put it past to put something weird in my food, but Ben’s a pretty okay guy.”

“I think we’ve got vastly different definitions of the term ‘okay guy,’” Dirk said.

Dave stared at him for a moment. “Uh, what?”

“He and I had a little chat earlier,” Dirk said.

“Okay, so you know what I mean, then,” Dave said. “He’s chill as fuck. And he can actually get away with being nice and still keeping his place in the pack, because Bro likes him, so he’s, you know, a good dude to have on our side.”

Dirk snorted. “I don’t fucking trust anyone here, especially not anyone the old man thinks so highly of,” he said.

“I mean, alright, I guess, but, like. Food’s food. Seriously, dude,” Dave said, nudging Dirk with his elbow, “You really oughta eat, man. I got no idea when we’re gonna get food again, and these won’t keep. I mean, unless we shove them into the freezer, I guess? Which sounds shitty, so you should eat now.”

“Why are we doing this?” Dirk said, throwing up his hands and earning a quizzical look from his brother. “Why are you doing this? Acting like one guy giving us a fucking meal is a sign of him being someone trustworthy, when it’s at best basic human decency! Why play along with this horseshit? Dave, we should be trying to fight back, trying to escape —”

“Or we could not do that,” said Dave. “Dirk, I told you, it’s fine. This is… it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be. Bro’s kinda rough, sure, but Ben’s totally fine! He’s trying to help us out a little, man, and you’re acting like he’s trying to fuckin’ poison us.”

“‘A little rough?’ Dave, that black eye is not ‘a little rough,’ it’s fucking abusive,” Dirk said. Dave rolled his eyes. “You wanna talk about helping,” he continued, “I’m trying to figure out how to fucking get us out of here, but you seem like you’re actively trying to stop me from doing that! You won’t even consider doing anything that might actually get us somewhere, won’t even think about questioning if maybe this shit isn’t okay, which it fucking isn’t! Why won’t you work with me, here, Dave?”

“Because I don’t wanna get beat up any more than I absolutely fuckin’ have to, Dirk!” Dave snapped, all of the previous relaxed air suddenly gone. Dirk froze. “It’s real easy to talk about being a rebel from where you are, safe in the fucking cellar all day, I’m the one who’s gotta actually deal with what happens when Bro gets pissed off! And —” He stopped himself. Dirk was staring, stunned into silence.

“It’d be justified at that point, anyway,” Dave muttered. “It’s his house, or whatever. I get it. Besides, it’s not that bad.” He looked away, unable to meet Dirk’s eyes. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I can take it. It’s whatever.”

“I…”

“Just, please, for the love of fuck, don’t antagonize him,” said Dave. “The less reasons we give him to be pissed, the less either of us gets beat up.”

“I’m…sorry,” Dirk stammered.

“S’alright. You’re new. You don’t know the rules yet.”

“Dave…”

Dave gulped down the rest of his sandwich, wiped his mouth on a sleeve, and stood. “I gotta get back to chores,” he said. “The rest of the usuals are getting here in a couple hours. You should eat the rest of your food.”

“Okay,” Dirk said, after a moment. Dave nodded, and headed out of the cellar.

“And please, for the love of fuck,” he said, out of view by the door, “Stay quiet, alright? I was serious this morning about keeping you hidden, and shit.”

“….Yeah,” said Dirk.

[corvid-knight]

Demon Eyes - chapter 6

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740258/chapters/31757775

tw for violence/abuse in the first half of this chapter

This is a dream.

You know that.

You're aware that you're not really kissing her, her hands aren't on your waist and yours aren't on her shoulders. She's not giggling at you because your shades just smashed awkwardly into her round glasses and you're not trying to keep down a grin because it'll mess up the kiss. You're not really twelve years old, testing out a new experience with a friend just because you can and she wants to as much as you do.

It still feels real enough to be pleasant, even if you're one hundred percent aware that you're just reliving it through a dream; this one's more vivid, more real, than this kind of thing should be. You can feel her shaking with pent-up laughter—this isn't her first kiss even if it is yours; she knows that you don't have a fucking clue what you're doing—taste bruised mint in her mouth. It's good. It feels real, and it doesn't feel real at all, but it feels amazing.

This is a good dream, you think hazily, still caught up in the happening-right-now memory of soft lips on yours.

Then the door behind you slams open, and before you can even pull back from her, Bro's hand winds into the back of your shirt and jerks you back from her. Just like the kissing seemed real, so does the burn of your shirt getting yanked up around your neck, not quite strangling you.

Yet.

He doesn't say a word, and when you try to say something—anything that'll mollify him at least a little—he twists his hand up in your collar, tightening it around your throat. His other hand grips a handful of your hair, pulling you mostly to your feet so he can fucking drag you out.

Shit. Shit. It's going to be bad. It's going to be so bad. You know that and you don't question why you know it; at some point, you forgot that this is a dream. As far as you're concerned, it's real right now.

"Bro—"

"Shut it," he growls quietly, letting go of your hair for just a second to shut the door behind himself. You can't stop yourself from gasping in relief, then whimpering again when his hand comes back up to get ahold of your hair again. "The fuck did you think you were doing?"

He lets go of your shirt as he asks the question, spinning you around and shoving you up against the wall. There's tears that you don't dare let fall in your eyes, both from him strangling you with your shirt and the fact that he's yanking you around by the hair. You're sure that you'll find blood at the white roots later, with how hard he's pulling.

"I didn't—"

His forearm slams down on your throat and cuts off every bit of air. You don't dare struggle against him, but you can't breathe. "Like hell you didn't! You know I'm not fuckin' blind, lil' man—you calling me an idiot?"

He eases up enough for you to speak. "No—Bro—"

But that's as far as he lets you get. Yes, he moves and his arm's abruptly not on your throat, but since he slams his fist into your diaphragm hard enough to make you cough and retch at the sick pain anyway, it's not a good tradeoff. "What, then? You sayin' you weren't making out with her? Is that what you're saying?"

Two more blows, one for emphasis and one at the end of the sentence. You can taste blood, but you know that it's just from where you bit your tongue.

"I'm sorry—"

He hits you again for that, an openhanded slap across your face that leaves you seeing stars. It hurts a little less than the punches to your stomach. "Fuck your sorry. What are you?"

"I—I—" I don't know what you want! That's what you want to tell him. His arm presses against your windpipe before you can say anything.

"You're a fucking hunter." His face is only a few inches from yours and his shades are crooked; you can see the gleam of amber eyes as he snarls out the words. "That shit's nothing but a distraction for you, do you hear me, Dave? You're a hunter—you stay away from girls, you stay away from guys, you stay away from everyone but me, do you hear me?" This time he yanks upward on your hair for emphasis, and you try to yelp despite the pressure on your throat. That just makes him bear down harder, cutting off even the little bit of air you were managing to get. "Disobey me again and you'll wish you'd never been born, lil' man, are we fuckin' clear here?"

He finally lets up enough for you to gasp and cough and force out a shaky, "Y-yes, Bro."

For whatever reason, that answer makes his brow furrow, and you know, you know that you fucked this up worse than it already was, he isn't done, he's going to—

Enough. Enough, Dave.

It's a thought, and you're not the one thinking it.

Yeah. Exactly. Wake up. Open your eyes and look at me.

Your eyes are open. You're staring at Bro.

Wait.

You close your eyes. This is a dream, you think. And then you open your eyes, your actual eyes, the ones attached to your body instead of being a fucking construct of your fucked-up mind, and see a demon blinking slowly at you.

"Hey," Karkat says. One of his arms is wrapped around your shoulders, his hand rubbing lazy patterns into your back; the other's tangled in your hair, petting you like some kind of fucking cat. "That was a fucking awful dream."

"...yeah." Holy shit. You've got your arms wrapped around Karkat, lying on his chest like he's some kind of amazing living mattress, one leg hooked around his. You've never been this close to someone, not even Bro on the bad nights. His pulse beats through every contact you have with him, and it's making you dizzy. Well, something's making you dizzy.

I should get up, you think, but you've never been less sure of something in your life.

"You should stay right where you are," Karkat mumbles, letting his head fall back. "Unless you can come up with an actual fucking reason to move..."

"Can't think of anything." You drop your face onto his chest and breathe in, trying for a little more calm and somehow finding it despite the thoughts chasing each other through your head. The reason is that Bro would kill me for this...

"I believe that, unfortunately," he mumbles. You can feel his desire to tighten his grip on you, pull you further into his sphere of protection. If he does that, you willpanic and pull away, and he must know that, because what he actually does is huff out a sigh and keep finger-combing your hair. "How many times did he do that to you?"

"Just once, for that..." I should shut up. Instead, you roll your head towards his hand and keep talking. "He had...a lot of lessons like that for me. Didn't usually have to go over them more than once; couple cracked ribs're a really fucking good motivator to not make him wanna give me a refresher course."

"Fuck, Dave."

"Yeah. The kissing, it was—it was nice, but it wasn't worth that shit." Plus it was only about a year after that that he took off and left with me. Didn't have anybody to try anything with, after that.

"I'm sorry."

"Wish you weren't." Your mouth's on autopilot. Somehow you can't muster up enough energy to give a shit. If you're looking for answers about me, I guess you're gonna get them.

(Karkat heard that. You know he did; you saw his head tilt as he listened in.)

"Why?" is all he asks.

"Why?"

"Why do you wish I wasn't sorry?"

"It's not—you shouldn't—" The words tangle in your mouth, and you shake your head—not enough to dislodge his hand—and think at him instead. It'd be better if you didn't know. Can't be sorry for me if you don't know about that shit..

"I can't try to help you think around it instead of straight through it if I don't know about it, either." He shifts, the arm that was wrapped around you moving to prop his head up so he can look at you without having to strain so much.

For a moment you stay how you are, with your face against his chest, feeling his pulse even through his shirt. Then, when it becomes obvious that he's not going to say anything else until you look at him, you sigh and raise your head, folding one arm under your chin for support. "And you think you want to help me why,exactly?"

Karkat makes a sound deep in his chest, a soft vibration that's somewhere between a hum and a growl and feels different from either. "You put that like I don't really want to help you."

"Do you?" Fuck. Putting it like that makes it sound like I don't trust him. And you do trust him, or at least you trust him more than you can trust anyone else. Which is stupid, you've known him for three fucking days and he's a goddamn demon—

"Fuck yes I want to help you." Karkat's hand moves from your hair to the side of your face, fingers slowly brushing down from your temple to your cheek. "You asked me to, remember?"

Yeah. Almost forgot I owe you for that, too.

"Yesterday takes some of the debt away, though." He blinks, and you can't help but smile as that makes the patterns in his eyes break apart and reform, giving you a whole new microcosm to get lost in. "I got myself into a situation—not that I could fucking help it—and you did a fucking amazing job of getting us both clear of it, even if you were scared out of your mind."

"Was not," you protest reflexively, and the fact that he snorts out a chuckle surprises you.

"Yeah you were. I could feel it. I thought I was going to have to try to wake up, that's how bad it was." You can feel him shrug. "I don't fucking know if I couldhave woken up, but you were...really fucking scared."

"Shit." You shake your head—this time Karkat's hand does slip away, and you want to curse yourself—and look down, away from his face. "Sorry."

"Why?" He puts his hand under your chin—too close to my throat, you think, and at the same moment think, there's no way he'll hurt me—gently pulling you back up to meet his eyes. "Because you give a fuck about whether I'm okay or not? Are you really about to apologize for that?"

"No. For—I panicked, man, I should be able to not fucking lose it."

Another snort, and he rolls his eyes. "Your definition of 'losing it' and mine are very fucking different." You open your mouth to argue; he lays a finger across your lips. "Shush and listen to me. You did everything you needed to do. You didn't know what was happening—which is my fucking fault, I should have had enough sense to clue you in on how my powers work a little better—and you kept functioning anyway. I know a hell of a lot of people who can't do that shit, Dave."

"I still panicked."

"Yeah, and that sucked. But it doesn't change the fact that because of you we're on the way to see your hunters, instead of in jail somewhere."

"...I guess." When you go to press your face against Karkat's chest again, he lets you do it. Fuck, wait. I'm an idiot. "Didn't you tell me you were going to be hungry?"

"Oh, I am. But I don't know when the next time you'll lay down with me like this is going to be." He is fucking smirking when you look up at him again. "I wasn't going to tell you to get up and—"

"You smooth fucking idiot." You swat at his shoulder and roll off his chest, leaning over to unzip the tent's door. "There's food in the truck, c'mon." And if you really want me to keep using you as a mattress, I think I'd be more than okay with doing that.

He's tilting his head. You don't have to look to know that.

"...Dave."

"Yeah?" The fucking zipper is stuck.

"Be sure and tell me if you end up being not okay with me being your mattress." He lets you mess with the thing for a second, then nudges your hands aside and gets it loose himself, sitting back so you can exit first. "I think I'd be able to tell, but let me know if I don't back the fuck down when you need me to."

"Yeah." The bags of food are in the backseat of the truck; you lean in and grab two at random, turning to hand them to Karkat. Dunno if I could kick somebody out of bed with me, but you'll know if I want to, deal?

You don't miss his wince as he catches that thought from you, but he sure as hell doesn't hesitate in taking the bags and reaching into one. "Deal."

"Cool. There's more food if you eat all that—" You really don't think he will. "—and I'm gonna pack up. Unless I'm misreading the damn map, we should get to Dirk's place in maybe four or five hours."

Karkat's mouth is already full of what seems to be half a burrito, but he frees up one hand to give you a thumbs-up.

It takes you maybe five minutes to roll up and secure the sleeping bags, another five to get the tent disassembled, and fifteen to get the goddamn thing rolled small enough to fit back in the bag. You're muttering imprecations against whoever the fuck designed this stupid thing by the time you finally get the bag zipped and scoop everything up to drop it in the backseat. You have to move the one remaining half-full Taco Bell bag aside to do it—evidently you were wrong about how much Karkat was going to eat.

Speaking of Karkat.

He's in the front passenger seat with the door still open and his seat reclined halfway. Again, he looks asleep, but when you touch his shoulder his eyes open. "Eat something, Dave."

"Bossy."

"Hell yes I am." He growls when you shut his door and head around to the other side; by the time you finish buckling yourself in he's holding out a still-wrapped burrito. The scowl on his face suggests that you're not allowed to refuse it.

Instead, you ignore him and start the truck, backing up until you can pull out of the rest area. Amazingly, that tactic works...well, for maybe five minutes.

Then Karkat starts nudging at your wrist with the burrito, which he's unwrapped now, and you can't help but laugh. "You're a stubborn fucker, you know that?"

"Hey, it's a demon thing." In the second that you take your eyes off the road to grab the burrito out of his hand, you see his self-satisfied grin.

"Sure it is." If you had a hand free, you'd push your shades up so he could see you're rolling your eyes at him. Since you don't...time to improvise.

I'm rolling my eyes at you, asshole.

Even though he's already leaned back and closed his eyes again, Karkat laughs at that. "Of course you are," he says. "You're not going to get lost if I go to sleep for a couple hours, right?"

"Hell yeah, man. You got four hours before I wake you up, alright?"

"Mhm."

...is he asleep already?

You're pretty sure he is.