#but Marcia could fix her

[jime777]

For day 3, I decided to draw a crossover of "The Little Mermaid" but with Marcia and Astrid <3

What if...

Astrid exchanged her voice and legs for a chance to meet Makalov again and fall in love with him... But instead, she ends up realizing what a lost cause he is and how much she regrets her decision.

The only way to break the curse is a true love kiss, and she has already discarded him for several reasons. But hey! He still has a sister, Marcia, who seems like a much more reasonable person. And she seems interested in Astrid as well.

[septimus-heap]

Thinking abt the time travel fix it fic I have spinning around in my head. Unfortunately for it to work I have to kill off basically every single character of importance which is all well and good it just feels kind of brutal

[fantasynmicrochips]

Two-Bit fixing himself for Marcia.

Him trying his best to not drink as much. Their first date, she cringed from the smell of beer on his breath. He swore off day-drinking that same night.

Him trying not to tense up whenever she talks to another soc at school. There's a part of his brain screaming to pull his blade, but he knows she can handle her own, and he stops himself.

Him not being as raunchy around her. Normally, with greaser gals, he could be. He could whisper the most rotted things in their ear, and they'd still go home with him. But this is Marcia, and Marcia's different. He wants to joke around with her but not go too far and make her uncomfortable.

Him trying to be himself but not too much of himself so he doesn't make her leave. Him smiling more, laughing more, him being a better person.

Two-Bit being a better person for Marcia because he loves her too much to lose her. He can't lose another person or he'll finally crash, so he does his absolute best to hold onto what he can.

[deim0sdread]

The Outsiders characters as things I did

Pretty self explanatory I just do a lot of stupid things and one of them had me thinking about it too bad I needed to share

Two-Bit: Made a joke that cruelly lacked context and made me look like I kicked children for fun. So I used to coach kids at this gymnastics school and I taught 5 to 9 year old kids and I was getting overstimulated and the kid bit my leg and licked the blood from the wound and I shook my leg until the kid was off. I had to get stitches for the wound and I cope with humour so I texted my friend “Call me Mister Hyde the way I just kicked a child” and I almost got cancelled. Even after explaining we still stopped being friends and honestly I get why

Dally: Called my guy best friend’s girlfriend a cheating whore while myself dating a man that was cheating on me. Then finding out that he was cheating on me with his girlfriend. I fought them after finding them in bed together. I’D DO IT AGAIN 🗣️🗣️🗣️

Ponyboy: I got caught reading in class because I had a huge reaction to what was said in the book and my teacher took my book away and never gave it back. I WANT MY BOOK BACK

Sodapop: Sobbed before going inside the Walt Disney World Haunted Mansion and when my mom tried to comfort me in my native language I kept sobbing and even got worse but when the park lady came up to me to comfort me in a language I didn’t understand I immediately stopped crying

Johnny: Screamed bloody murder and got ignored while my parents were arguing really badly and I thought they were about to kill each other. The neighbour called the cops because he heard me scream and not because of the argument and my parents were confused when the cops showed up for a loud scared scream

Darry: At one of my first shifts at work in was a closing shift and it was late and I was exhausted so when a guy asked me when his drink would be ready I just said “Hell if I know!” instead of “just in a moment” like I was meant to

Steve: I tried to fix my bike when I was little and I thought I could do it alone and almost ended up cutting off my pinky finger while changing the bike chain. I haven’t been on a bike since!

Bob: First time I ever drank alcohol I was so drunk that when I watched my favourite movie at the time and my two favourite characters got killed off I was sobbing and pointing at the screen saying “No… Billy no!” For 15 minutes

Randy: I was supposed to fight this guy and I forgot about it and the next day he punched me in the face and I just said “My man let’s kiss not fight” and we did end up kissing

Marcia: I saw my dad come back from work covered in motor oil and I cried because I didn’t recognize him when he was dirty

Cherry: First time that I went to a drive-in movie I was arguing with my friend because I wanted her to stop talking so I could watch Guardians of the Galaxy and I fell out of the van and we had to scrap my favourite clothes because there was cow shit

Paul: When I broke up with my ex (a different one than previously mentioned) I was so heartbroken I acted like I planned it all from the beginning and this was all part of my master plan because I was actually emotionless and people were like a chess board to me while I was sobbing in call to my best friend because I couldn’t believe he left me for some 25 year old when we were both still 15

also mendatory moot ping @izaacs-notdeadyet @urmomatron700 @b3st-sunday-dr3ss @brat-pack-it-up-boys @brooke-likesmusic

[abortionado]

The way that Shiv sees her loss as parallel to her mother's & Kerry's & Marcia's. The way she talks about how badly she wanted Logan to meet her baby and how she's the only one who lost something she "really wanted." The way Tom and Logan ("fuck off until you can tell me I've got a grandson coming") pressured and coerced her in tandem to get pregnant. The way she was strung along by Logan for so long and eventually discarded because she wasn't on paper in exactly the same way Kerry was. The way the baby was supposed to be a bandaid that fixed her relationship with Logan ("he could be rocking his grandchildren to sleep") but also her relationship with Tom. The way that Tom was her last line of communication with Logan, the way she was talking to Logan but only Tom heard her, the blurring of the lines between father and husband, the use of her body to produce an heir for her father...sickness

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

The Copollogism Essays - Part 2: The Assassination Scene

Part 1 (The Tent) ~ Part 2 (The Assassination) ~ Part 3 (Lester's Reaction) ~ Part 4 (Leo's Questions/Seeing Commodus Again) ~ Part 5 (The Arena) ~ Part 6 (The Waystation) ~ Part 7 (The Yacht) ~ Part 8 (The Final Moment)

Analysis: Part 1 (Apollo and Commodus as Individuals) ~ Part 2 (Toxic Relationship?) ~ Part 3 (Codependent - Or Is It?) ~ Part 4 (Other Thoughts)

Oh ho ho ho. Here it is. The One You Have Been Waiting For.

A little personal background–

This was the scene that I remembered that made me pick the Trials of Apollo books back up last year.

It was this scene that brought me back into the fandom.

Everyone say thank you to this scene because it is a masterpiece and I sure damn well hope I do it justice.

Anyway. Let us begin~

I KNOW WHAT YOU are thinking. But, Apollo! You are divine! You cannot commit murder. Any death you cause is the will of the gods and entirely beyond reproach. It would be an honor if you killed me! I like the way you think, good reader. It’s true I had laid waste to whole cities with my fiery arrows. I had inflicted countless plagues upon humanity. Once Artemis and I slew a family of twelve because their mama said something bad about our mama. The nerve!  None of that did I consider murder.

None of that, none of the deaths Apollo has caused, did he consider murder.

But Commodus’s he does.

This has always stuck out to me, even when I first read the books. 

The praetorian prefect Laetus had pulled me aside only an hour ago: We failed at lunch. This is our last chance. We can take him, but only with your help. Marcia, Commodus’s mistress, had wept as she tugged at my arm. He will kill us all. He will destroy Rome. You know what must be done!  They were right. I’d seen the list of names—the enemies real or imagined whom Commodus intended to execute tomorrow. Marcia and Laetus were at the top of the list, followed by senators, noblemen, and several priests in the temple of Apollo Sosianus. 

Something that was pointed out by @amiti-art was how Apollo’s priests were set to be killed. This is baffling for a couple reasons: 1) Apollo is well known to deliver terrible punishments onto those who even treat his priests with disrespect (Agamemnon in The Iliad got a nice plague for his disrespect); and 2) Why would Commodus do this? Why would he specifically kill Apollo’s priests?

I suggested it could be a way to “get his attention” so to speak. Because remember, in Part 1, we know Apollo left after Marcus has died. And now, Commodus is deep into his paranoia and lashing out at everyone and everything he perceives as a threat.

Perhaps something triggered him to think the priests were some sort of threat, or maybe he’s so far in his delusions that he thinks he can have everything be “fixed” if he draws Apollo back to him. As we saw in Part 1, Commodus looked to Apollo first at the news of Marcus’s death— maybe even now, he’s trying to rebuild that bridge because everything’s falling apart.

If so…he did not think it through 😬 I mean… *eyes the plague Agamemnon got; Clytemnestra being killed by her own son for murdering Cassandra* yeah…things don’t end well for those who mess with the people in Apollo’s cult.

I pushed open the bronze doors of the emperor’s chambers. From the shadows, Commodus bellowed, “GO AWAY!”  A bronze pitcher sailed past my head, slamming into the wall with such force it cracked the mosaic tiles. “Hello to you, too,” I said. “I never did like that fresco.”

*wheeze from alder* I get the feeling there was very casual banter in their relationship lol

Commodus knelt on the floor, clinging to the side of a sofa for support. In the opulence of the bedchamber with its silk curtains, gilded furniture, and colorfully frescoed walls, the emperor looked out of place—like a beggar pulled from some Suburra alley. His eyes were wild. His beard glistened with spittle. Vomit and blood spattered his plain white tunic, which wasn’t surprising considering his mistress and prefect had poisoned his wine at lunch.

This whole paragraph really gives you a glimpse into Commodus’s mindset, even if we don’t see his thoughts. He is quite literally at his wit’s end. His mistress and prefect have just tried to assassinate him. Everyone is against him. He is completely alone; no father, no lover.

Except Narcissus.

But if you could look past that, Commodus hadn’t changed much since he was eighteen, lounging in his campaign tent in the Danubian Forest. He was thirty-one now, but the years had barely touched him. To the horror of Rome’s fashionistas, he had grown his hair out long and had a shaggy beard to resemble his idol, Hercules. Otherwise he was the picture of manly Roman perfection. One might almost have thought he was an immortal god, as he so often claimed to be.

Not very important but short-haired teenaged Commodus canon 👍

Sike, this can be important because it is INTERESTING that Commodus deviates from the traditional Roman culture here. He grows his hair out, as well as a beard. Roman men didn’t typically do that.

But you know who does?

Greek men. Such as Heracles (which is why Commodus does so.)

I find this VERRRYYY interesting, especially paired with his relationship with Apollo. Because if you look at Commodus…he’s not very Roman, no? I’d say he’s more Greek-flavored than Roman.

Because here’s the deal: Besides the longer hair, Commodus (historically, at least) also liked to sing and dance. That was 100% accepted for men to do in Greece, but in Rome?

Rome had a very convoluted attitude towards singing and dancing. It was essentially “oh the upper class OBVIOUSLY can get SUPERB teachers for it, but if they're TOO GOOD AT IT they are NO BETTER THAN A WOMAN OR A SLAVE!!!!”

The kicker here is that the Greeks were typically slaves within Rome. They were regularly hired by the Roman elite to perform music and dances.

(Interesting how Apollo is their god, too.)

Out of all the Romans, out of the Roman elite…Apollo falls in love with the most Greek one he can find.

What’s even better is that Commodus continues the trend of ‘Apollo’s lovers are related to his domains’ because of music and dance.

That is what they bonded over. You bet Apollo made Commodus feel better over what he liked doing when the society he lived in looked down on it.

My poor, precious heart 🥲

“They tried to kill me,” he snarled. “I know it was them! I won’t die. I’ll show them all!”  My heart ached to see him this way. Only yesterday, I’d been so hopeful. We’d practiced fighting techniques all afternoon. Strong and confident, he’d wrestled me to the ground and would have broken my neck if I’d been a regular mortal. After he let me up, we’d spent the rest of the day laughing and talking as we used to in the old days. Not that he knew my true identity, but still… disguised as Narcissus, I was sure I could restore the emperor’s good humor, eventually rekindle the embers of the glorious young man I’d once known. And yet this morning, he’d woken up more bloodthirsty and manic than ever.

Ouch. Owie. This hurts.

Time to discuss Apollo’s disguise now.

Narcissus, now, was a real person. But it appears in the RRverse, Narcissus was Apollo the whole time. And Apollo’s goal here was to, and I quote; “restore the emperor’s good humor [and] eventually rekindle the embers of the glorious young man I’d once known.”

Apollo initially disguised himself because he wanted to stop Commodus from going down his bloody, awful path. Apollo had been keeping such a close watch on what was happening that he knew things were getting bad enough to warrant his interference, with the hope of steering his former lover away from a dark fate.

*insert ‘I can fix him!’ meme here* ah, Apollo. If only you could RIP

Also wow, Commous wrestled Apollo— Apollo, who beat Ares in a wrestling match— to the ground? And would have broken his neck if he were mortal?

I’m guessing Apollo was holding back here, considering…well, considering the ending of this scene heh. But I doubt Apollo was a slouch even holding back, so Commodus is probably very good at hand-to-hand combat. Sheer brute force is exactly his style.

I approached cautiously, as if he were a wounded animal. “You won’t die from the poison. You’re much too strong for that.”  “Exactly!” He pulled himself up on the couch, his knuckles white with effort. “I’ll feel better tomorrow, as soon as I behead those traitors!”  “Perhaps it would be better to rest for a few days,” I suggested. “Take some time to recuperate and reflect.”  “REFLECT?” He winced from the pain. “I don’t need to reflect, Narcissus. I will kill them and hire new advisors. You, perhaps? You want the job?”

It’s really telling how much Commodus trusts Apollo— that is to say, Narcissus— here.

It’s also telling how Apollo— his lover— is using his father’s words to get him to stop.

Marcus Aurelius’s advice is coming out of Apollo’s mouth, but Commodus has no idea; he does not know it’s Apollo telling him this.

Not until it’s too late, that is. When it’s revealed once and for all that he has no intention of stopping.

But it does make you wonder what Commodus would have done if he had known it was Apollo. Would the combined might of his father’s advice and his lover be enough to prevent him from killing more innocent people?

Or would it have only made things worse?

I did not know whether to laugh or cry. While Commodus concentrated on his beloved games, he turned the powers of state over to prefects and cronies… all of whom tended to have a very short life expectancy. “I’m just a personal trainer,” I said. “Who cares? I will make you a nobleman! You will rule Commodiana!” I flinched at the name. Outside the palace, no one accepted the emperor’s rechristening of Rome. The citizens refused to call themselves Commodians. The legions were furious that they were now known as Commodianae. Commodus’s crazy proclamations had been the final straw for his long-suffering advisors.  “Please, Caesar,” I implored him. “A rest from the executions and the games. Time to heal. Time to consider the consequences.” He bared his teeth, his lips specked with blood. “Don’t you start too! You sound like my father. I’m done thinking about consequences!”

Apollo is once again putting on his Marcus Aurelius hat.

But once again…Commodus does not listen. He’s done listening to wise counsel. He’s done doing what other people have told him to do.

He’s emperor, after all.

Nobody can stop him. He’s blessed, after all. Who would even try?

My spirits collapsed. I knew what would happen in the coming days. Commodus would survive the poisoning. He would order a ruthless purge of his enemies. The city would be decorated with heads on pikes. Crucifixions would line the Via Appia. My priests would die. Half the senate would perish. Rome itself, the bastion of the Olympian gods, would be shaken to its core. And Commodus would still be assassinated…just a few weeks or months later, in some other fashion. I inclined my head in submission.  “Of course, Caesar. May I draw you a bath?”

Read no further if you wish for a happy ending 😢

Commodus grunted assent. “I should get out of these filthy clothes.”  As I often did for him after our workout sessions, I filled his great marble bath with steaming rose-scented water. I helped him out of his soiled tunic and eased him into the tub. For a moment, he relaxed and closed his eyes. I recalled how he looked sleeping beside me when we were teens. I remembered his easy laugh as we raced through the woods, and the way his face scrunched up adorably when I bounced grapes off his nose.

Their relationship was more carefree in nature. It was more teenager-esque, with Apollo even saying “when we were teens”, despite the fact he is merely a teen in body.

Even so…

I sponged away the spittle and blood from his beard. I gently washed his face. Then I closed my hands around his neck. “I’m sorry.”  I pushed his head underwater and began to squeeze. 

Apollo begins with gentleness. With cleaning him off. He doesn’t immediately kill him— perhaps to give both of them one last moment of peace.

But then that gentleness turns to murder.

Commodus was strong. Even in his weakened state, he thrashed and fought. I had to channel my godly might to keep him submerged, and in doing so, I must have revealed my true nature to him. He went still, his blue eyes wide with surprise and betrayal. He could not speak, but he mouthed the words: You. Blessed. Me.

Apollo is forced to reveal himself in all his glory— and in that moment, they are both aware of his betrayal. Commodus is floored by what he sees— by who he sees.

This isn’t merely his trainer who he has grown to trust.

This is his lover who he has loved for decades.

The lover who blessed and reassured him that everything would be fine.

But it’s not.

Apollo’s the one with the hands around his throat, and all Commodus can do is throw his promise back in his face: You. Blessed. Me.

*and this is the moment everyone knew: they started bawling*

Tissues, anyone?

The accusation forced a sob from my throat. The day his father died, I had promised Commodus: You will always have my blessings. Now I was ending his reign. I was interfering in mortal affairs—not just to save lives, or to save Rome, but because I could not stand to see my beautiful Commodus die by anyone else’s hands.

And even at the end, we can still see the toxicity that permeates their relationship.

Commodus took Apollo’s love and support for granted. He thought he could do anything he wished because he had the love and blessing of a god.

Apollo loved Commodus so much that he couldn’t stand the thought of someone else killing him. He could have kept his own hands clean of the kill, but he did not.

Because he wouldn’t be able to bear it to allow someone else to do the deed.

His last breath bubbled through the whiskers of his beard. I hunched over him, crying, my hands around his throat, until the bathwater cooled.

Even after Commodus is dead and gone, Apollo stays sitting there. Crying. He is utterly distraught by what he has done, and will continue to torment himself over it.

Perhaps even for eternity.

Britomartis was wrong. I didn’t fear water. I simply couldn’t look at the surface of any pool without imagining Commodus’s face, stung with betrayal, staring up at me.

That, my friends, is how you write an ending. That is how you write a tragic, doomed romance.

This is the deepest romance in all of Rick’s books. And we’ve only gotten through the flashback scenes.

We— and Rick— are merely getting warmed up.

[im-normal-about-everything]

Stick Season by Noah Kahan is so Marbit coded but like if they never really got together.

Now I am stuck between my anger and the blame that I can't face and memories are something even smoking weed does not replace.

Two-bit after everything with bob, Johnny, and dally. After he threw away Marcia's number and regretted it but couldn't fix it.

And it's half my fault but I just like to play the victim.

Could for for both of them. Two-bit throwing away her number and Marica feeling stupid for ever hoping that a greaser was being sincere and genuine.

I'll drink alcohol till my friends come home for Christmas.

Two-Bit's drinking problem and him waiting for Johnny and dally to return, even though they won't.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

you should absolutely write the genderbent outsiders fic, it would be so interesting to see how many things get changed. often people genderbend one person and just turn them into someone everyone's attracted to rather than looking at character, or they do change everyone but it's still all surface level changes but from what i've seen you seem like you'd do something really interesting with it

(no pressure obviously but it's a really cool idea especially with the attitudes of the outsiders (how would the scene where they meet cherry and marcia play out for example?))

HI! Ok so I do love this idea but I dont have time to wrote a full fic with the nuance it deserves but I did write out two little scenes for it so I'll post them here! One is lifted almost directly from the book its just the genderben take on it :)

“Speaking of movies,” Dalia flicked away her cigarette butt, “I’m thinking of walkin’ over to the nightly double tomorrow night. Might find someone to fool around with. Anyone wanna come?”

Stella shook her head. “The boys are takin’ me and Soda to the game.”

She didn’t need to look at me the way she did then. I wasn’t gonna try and stick around or nothing. I liked Soda’s boy, James, well enough and sometimes they’d offer me and Dar to go with them when they went to do stuff, but I wasn’t gonna try and third wheel. I’d never admit it, because Soda really likes Stella a lot, but sometimes I hate her. She doesn’t need to be half so possessive as she is over everything all the time- and Soda is my sister.

Darlene sighed, just like I knew she would. Darlene never had time to do anything with us anymore. “I have a date tomorrow night.”

She sounded less than enthused at the prospect, and Soda and I shared a look. Ever since mom and dad died, Darlene had spent nearly every night she wasn’t working going on various dates, with each guy seemingly worse than the last- and much as she tried to hide it, it wasn’t hard for Soda and me to guess why. It kind of killed me that my once vivacious sister, who’d always been so fiercely independent, was throwing herself at every mediocre guy who looked her way trying to find someone to provide for her, for us. On her own, Darlene would never consider marriage, at twenty no less, but now she had Soda to support for another year and me for another four and we all knew her two jobs were barely covering bills already. Sometimes the guilt of it, what Dar had already given up and what she was further prepared to lose made me so guilty and sad I couldn’t stand it. I knew Soda felt the same way.

Dalia just rolled her eyes. She only went on dates when it suited her, and only to cause trouble. She didn’t get Dar’s obsession with finding a good man- or if she did, she clearly didn’t respect it. 

“What about the rest of y’all? Two-bit? Jennygirl? You an’ Pony wanna come?”

“Me’n Jenny’ll come,” I knew Jenny wouldn’t open her mouth unless she was forced to, “Okay Dar?”

***************

“You make sure she gets her ass straight home, Soda,” Darlene says, “I mean it.”

I roll my eyes and she fixes me with an icy glare.

“Don’t get huffy with me, Ponygirl. You’re lucky you ain’t grounded. You know better than to be goin’ to the movie house alone.”

“But-”

“No buts,” she fixes me with a stern glare. If it weren't for how cold her eyes are she could be real pretty with her tumble of smoky curls and delicate nose. Now though, she just looks mean, like Tamina Shepard or one of the other girls who date the gang leaders round town, “you ain’t a boy Pony, you gotta quit goin’ around actin’ like one.”

[brklynbb]

— get him back !

in which — you and dallas winston have an unhealthy relationship.

( heavily inspired by olivia rodrigo’s song ‘get him back!’ )

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you met dallas winston last summer. your first impression? he’s cute. and your last impression? he sucks. during your short lived relationship, you were quite blinded by your love to notice all the shit he'd do.

unwelcoming brown eyes met yours from across the room at buck merrill's party . it was out of a movie. he was cute. he had short, fluffy brown hair, an alluring aura that made you want to explore every single quirk, habit, and hobby that he had. that's the charm of dallas. the one that lures girls in, thinking that if he would give them just one chance, they could ‘fix him.' unfortunately, you were one of those girls.

long story short, you're sitting at the bar, talking to a friend, when buck hands you a beer.

“i didn't order this,” you say simply, handing it back to him.

he rolls his eyes. “i know. i'm not dumb. winston got it for you.” he gestures to dallas, sitting a few stools away.

your eyes meet his once again. your lips part. why would he buy you this? he doesn't even know you. you furrow your eyebrows, confused, trying to figure out why he would do that. what he does in return is walk over to you.

he makes himself at home in the empty stool beside you. your friend receives a glare from dallas, warning her to scram, and she does. he then turns his attention to you.

“hey, honey,” he says. you notice his cute accent. he's from new york.

you smile softly. “hi.”

your eyes trace over his features. he says something to you, but you don't know what. you're too focused on how… beautiful he is. he's the type of boy who you'd pour your heart out to. the type of boy you'd write love letters to. the type of boy you see in old movies. you want to kiss his face. he entrances you.

and somehow, you don't know how, he takes you to his bedroom. and you don't know why you let him. it's like you weren't you when he was around. he was just too perfect to say no too.

you were not the type to ever hook up with someone for one night. but you did. and you weren't the type to do it again next time you saw him. but you did. and you weren't the type to let the casual hookups turn into something more. but you did.

the relationship was fun. he was so much fun. and his friends were fun, too. you never knew being surrounded by greasers in leather jackets could be so enjoyable. he took you out a lot. to parties, to dances, to clubs, to bars.

the relationship ended the next spring. he made a pass on your friend, cherry valance. then he made a pass on your other friend, marcia. then he flirted with a few girls at a bar, while you were beside him. you let it slide for a while. you were a good person, you could fix him. but no one tells dallas winston what to do. when you told him how you help, he was awfully dismissive, and denied everything you said about his wandering eye. the breakup was bad. he's got a temper, to say the least. it turned into a yelling match, (mostly from his end), which turned into the eventual breakup.

you don't know if you love him or hate him. you still want to kiss his face. you still want to write him love letters, and pour your heart out to him. you also want to uppercut him, and key his car, and turn all his friends against him. you want revenge. you want to miss him and cry in your pillow. you want to kiss him. you want to carry on with your life. you want to get him back.

[sondheim-girly]

@outsidersweek heres my absurdly late submission for day five!! heres the masterpost for this fic

September 1967

Marcia

The Monday after Bob died, none of her friends went to school. They instead decided to go to Pershing park, trying to find some consolation there. Marcia’s head was buried in Trips' shoulder, their arms wrapping around each other for any sense of comfort they could find. Marcia eventually pulled away from him, and went over to where Cherry was sitting. She and Bev fixed the letterman jacket that was wrapped around the grieving girls’ shoulders and smoothed down her hair as Paul started talking, his eyes filled with a violent anger. 

“This can’t be real. He can’t be gone, and I don’t know how we just carry on, this could’ve happened to anyone! But here we are, can’t be undone.”

Cherry stared straight ahead and whispered to herself, “What have we done?”

Paul heard her, and turned to face Cherry, “We were only having fun.”

“You were only having fun?” She responded in disbelief,

“Just hanging out, just horsing ‘round, doing what we’ve always done.”

Cherry stood up, and started walking away from the group. “Bob was drinking, you were drinking too! And tell me what’s so fun about a fight that’s five on two? What’d you think that boy was gonna do, he lived his life scared to death after what you put him through!” Marcia stared at Cherry wide eyed, shocked at what she was saying. No one had ever talked to their friends like that.

“Bob went crazy when he saw you with that greaser kid.” Paul said as he started making his way closer to Cherry, and Marcia ran over to her friend. “You held his hand at the concession stand, we saw it all, you know just what you did!” He accused, as their friends all angrily nodded along with him. Cherry took a step back, fear filling her eyes.

“You guys were loud that night! Out looking for a fight!” Cherry took Marcia’s hand, and Marcia could see Trip shaking his head from the side of her eye. “The two of us just stayed behind, you couldn’t stand to leave those boys alone!”

“You and pony holding hands! I don’t think you understand, Bob was not a jealous man! Cherry what you did that night was wrong.” Bev stepped out for a moment to grab Marcias wrist and tug her into the crowd, away from Cherry. Marcia ripped her arm out of Bevs grasp, before attempting to move towards Cherry again. Paul was standing in front of her though, preventing Marcia from moving away.

“You should be as mad as me at this senseless tragedy! Bob didn’t need to die!!” Paul circled around away from Cherry, going to stand on the fountain as their friends gathered around him, hungry fire in their eyes. Brill came over, glaring at Marcia, before he turned away and went to Cherry. Marcia stared in horror as Brill tried to take Bob's letterman jacket off of Cherrys shoulders, but she flinched back, not letting him any closer. Brill walked away and went to join the rest of their friends who were gathered around Paul.

“The greasers crossed a line! We could sit here asking why, or we could send them back a message! Take an eye for an eye!” Paul declared, to rousing cheers from his friends.

Marcia turned to Cherry, who looked completely horrified. She held her hand out to Marcia so they could leave, and Marcia looked back at her friends. If she left now, Trip might break up with her. Bev would shun her. All of her friends would see her as a traitor. She wanted to move, but her feet stayed planted in place, her eyes trying to communicate to Cherry how sorry she was. Cherry stepped back, her face holding a betrayal and a sorrow that sent shots through Marcia’s heart. She turned around to leave, and Marcia felt violent tears rise up through her throat. When she looked over at her friends she vaguely saw Paul pointing out something, and a fresh wave of horror hit her.

It all happened too fast. Her friends ran at Two-Bit, and she could see the moment he realized what was happening. He tried to run away, but Brill and Chet grabbed his arms and slammed him down onto the concrete. She stepped forward- she had to do something- but she stopped in her tracks when she saw Chet stare her down, a warning in his eyes. Brill was holding Two-Bit down, but Trip was the one who punched him flat across the face. Marcia had never seen Trip like this. She felt sick. Two-Bit went rolling, then got up and ran at Chet, tackling the boy to the ground. Brill and Trip pulled him off and onto his back, and Marcia tried to take another few steps forward. Why couldn't she do anything?? Brill was pinning down Two-Bits arms, and Chet was holding his legs. Paul set his foot on Two-Bits chest, and issued his warning:

“Next saturday night! Pershing park! All out war is officially declared!!” And then Paul forced his entire body weight on Two-Bits chest, before stepping off with a laugh. Trip went down to pin one of Two-Bits arms. Marcias frantic gaze shifted to Bev, who had a vicious grin on her face. She was leaning down to Two-Bit, a light cigarette in hand. Marcia felt lightheaded watching as her friend, her friend, pressed a cigarette to an innocent boy's forehead. The scream that echoed through the park was something that would haunt Marcia until the day she died. Her friends finally let go of the boy, and he rolled onto his stomach. They were all whooping and laughing victoriously, and Marcia vaguely felt Brill take her arm and start to drag her into his car. She was stuffed into the backseat next to Trip. He put his arm around her waist. His knuckles were covered in blood, and he was smiling. He was proud of his hatred and his violence, and he was touching her. The next thing Marcia knew, she was yelling at Brill to stop the car and let her out.

Two-Bit

Everything hurt. His ribs. The burn on his face. The cuts on his face from those boys rings. Two-Bit tried to push down the pain as he slowly crawled to the edge of the park, he had to figure out where to go now. His first thought was the Curtis house, but with everything that those brothers were going through right now, they didn’t need anything else to worry over. Home it was, then. He was just attempting to stand when he heard something behind him. He turned around, ready to fight whoever it was that had come for round 2. But it wasn’t anything like that.

Marcia was standing there, and her face was full of pain. He wondered for a moment if she'd finally decided to join in on her friend's fun, but when he looked into her eyes, he doubted that. 

“Hey doll” he rasped, “need something?”

“I want to help.” Marcia choked out.

“That so? Then why didn’t you say so earlier.” He joked, but his words were laced with something more serious.

“I was…” she started, but she cut herself off with a shake of her head. “It doesn’t matter, I’m here now.”

“True enough,” he admitted jokingly,

Marcia looked at him for a moment, then asked, “do you need help getting home?”

Two attempted to take a step so he could prove he was ok, “I’m fi-” he started to say, but he cut himself off when a shooting pain moved through his body. His ribs must be bruised. He wasn’t sure if he could get all the way back home and patch himself up in this state, so he looked up at Marcia and said, “I live a few blocks away. Mind giving me a hand?”

She almost smiled, but her eyes were too full of fear for it to be believable.

[d8nielaa]

can i request a marbit one where its based off of “dial drunk” by noah kohan!!

Authors Note: yes ofc anon!! im very nervy because all the marbit pics ive ever read are so amazing soo I hope I do well

Dial Drunk

Marcia M. Meyrink x Keith "Two-BIt" Matthews

The neon lights outside the bar flickered like a pulse, barely keeping time with the thrum of the city streets. Inside, Two-Bit Mathews leaned against the cool counter, the glass in his hand swirling with whiskey he didn’t really taste. He wasn’t even sure how many drinks he’d had tonight. Everything felt blurry, the edges of his thoughts slipping away like sand through his fingers. But there was one thing that was still clear. One thing that was painfully clear.

Marcia.

"I'm rememberin' I promised to forget you now But it's rainin', and I'm callin' drunk"

Her name was all he could think about, all he could hear in his mind. He couldn’t shake the sound of her laughter, the way her eyes softened when she looked at him, the way she used to roll her eyes when he’d pull some stupid stunt. It was still fresh, too fresh. But she was gone now, and it was his fault.

A drunken urge crawled its way through him. Maybe, just maybe, if he called her—just heard her voice—he could stop this feeling. The feeling of being so damn lost.

He stumbled outside, the cold night air biting at his skin, sharp and unwelcome. It didn’t matter, though. He needed to hear her. He needed to apologize. He needed her to know he still loved her.

"And my medicine is drownin' your perspective out So I ain't takin' any fault Am I honest still? Am I half the man I used to be?"

He fumbled with the payphone, the bar lighting up with his figure. Marcia. He had no idea if she’d pick up. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he should be calling her, but the words in his head were drowning him. So, he dialed.

The ringing felt like it lasted forever.

Pick up. Please pick up.

"I gave your name as my emergency phone call Honey, it rang and rang, even the cops thought you were wrong for hangin' up I dial drunk, I'll die a drunk, I'll die for you"

“Hello?” Her voice came through the line, soft but steady, and Two-Bit’s heart did that thing where it dropped into his stomach.

“Marcia… It’s me, it’s Two-Bit…” His voice cracked, the alcohol slurring his words just enough to make him sound pathetic. He hated himself for it, but it didn’t stop him. “I know you’re probably not gonna want to talk to me right now, but—shit, I don’t even know what to say. I just… I messed up, okay? I messed up real bad.”

"I'm untetherin' from the parts of me you'd recognize From charmin' to alarmin' in seconds"

There was a long silence on the other end. He could practically feel her hesitation, the way she probably wanted to hang up, but didn’t. Maybe she was tired of hearing him, of hearing his excuses. Maybe she was done with him for good. But he couldn’t give up. Not when it felt like his chest was being crushed by everything he hadn’t said.

“Two-Bit,” Marcia’s voice broke through the static, calm but laced with something he couldn’t quite place. “What do you want? You think a phone call is gonna fix this?”

“I don’t know. Maybe not. But I—I just need to hear your voice. I can’t stop thinking about you, Marcia. I never should’ve let you go, and now you’re out there, and I’m here, and I don’t know how to fix any of it.”

"I ain't proud of all the punches that I've thrown In the name of someone I no longer know For the shame of being young, drunk, and alone"

His breath hitched, the lump in his throat almost choking him. He tried to clear it but it wouldn’t budge. He wasn’t sure if it was the whiskey or the desperation, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that she knew. She knew he was sorry. He just wanted her back.

“I miss you. I miss you so much, you don’t even know. I was an idiot. I was… I was trying to act like I didn’t care, like I didn’t need you, but damn it, I do. I need you, Marcia. Please… don’t hang up.”

He was pleading now. Begging, even. But it was the truth.

On the other end, Marcia was quiet for a long time, and Two-Bit’s heart started to sink. Maybe this was it. Maybe she was done with him forever.

"Don't like that when they threw me in the car I gave your name as my emergency phone call Honey, it rang and rang, even the cops thought you were wrong for hangin' up"

But then, she spoke again, softer than before, almost like she was talking to herself. “You always do this, don’t you? You drink, you call me, and I pick up like I always do. And it’s always the same thing. You tell me you’re sorry, but it doesn’t change anything.”

Two-Bit squeezed his eyes shut, guilt flooding him. He couldn’t deny it. She was right. He did this too many times. The cycle of his reckless decisions, his drunk apologies, his empty promises.

“I’m sorry, Marcia. I swear, if you give me another chance… I’ll fix it. I’ll do better. I can’t… I can’t let you go again. I love you too much.”

"Well, I'd die for you"

The words spilled out of him, raw and desperate, and there was no taking them back. He was so damn scared that she wouldn’t believe him, that she wouldn’t come back to him.

Another pause, and he could hear the faint rustle of her breath on the line. It was the only thing he could focus on, the only sound that mattered in the world.

“I don’t know if I can believe you, Two-Bit.” Her voice trembled, but she wasn’t angry. There was sadness there, a deep kind of sorrow he couldn’t fix with a few words.

“I’ll prove it to you, Marcia. I will. I’ll do whatever it takes. Please. Please, don’t let me mess this up again.”

The line went quiet again, and for a moment, he thought she was gone. Maybe she’d hung up, maybe she was done, and he would never get another chance to make things right.

But then, he heard her voice again, quieter this time.

“You’re drunk.”

"I beg you, sir, just let me call I'll give you my blood alcohol I'll rot with all the burnouts in the cell I'll change my faith, I'll praise the flag Let's wait, I swear she'll call me back"

Two-Bit chuckled softly, wiping a hand over his face. “Yeah, well, you’ve always been the one who could get me sober, haven’t you?”

There was a long, silent moment, and then she sighed, as if she had made a decision. “I can’t just forget what happened. But… I’ll think about it, okay? But you better mean what you say, Two-Bit. I’m not some game for you to play with when you get lonely.”

“I swear to you, I mean it. I always have.”

The line went silent once more, but this time, it didn’t feel like an end. It felt like something still waiting to happen.

After a long beat, she spoke again, her tone softer, though still guarded. “You better figure it out. And get yourself together, okay? I can’t be your backup plan when you’re feeling like this.”

"'ll change my faith, I'll kiss the badge Let's wait, I swear she'll call me back "Son, why do you do this to yourself?""

Two-Bit’s heart ached, but he nodded even though she couldn’t see it. “I will. I promise.”

And with that, the line went dead.

He stood there in the cold night, phone still pressed to his ear, knowing this wasn’t the end. It couldn’t be. Not when he had so much left to prove.

He wasn’t sure how to fix it all, but maybe, just maybe, he’d find a way. For her. For them.

"I dial drunk, I'd die a drunk, I'd die for you"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Authors Note: guys did I cook? are any of you crying please

[littlestarbigsky]

Do you have any other ChetCherrySoda teen pregnancy headcanons?

ah yes OF COURSE <33

as always, a lot of this is inspired by @girlishwhimsies cherrycola pregnancy au (which im sooo sick and obsessed with)

- i think cherry had morning sickness BADDD like poor girl is getting sick every single day and tbh there’s not much anyone can do to fix it. whenever she’s staying over with the boys, they do what they can to keep her comfortable but she’s just rlly sick. they’re obviously rlly good at keeping her hydrated and making sure she’s getting what she needs tho

- i like to think that she would have tried to stay with her parents as long as possible after getting pregnant even if she knew they were going to kick her out when they found out, mostly bc she wants to maintain that stability and safety for as long as she can, esp bc the first trimester is when you’re most likely to miscarry

- chet being involved puts a fun spin on this whole au tho bc contrary to (maybe) popular belief, i think his dad would have been supportive of their kid. he’s obviously not thrilled, but he makes sure that chet is supporting cherry in whatever ways he can in all of the ways, including financially

- i think chet has a biiiig wave of grief when he thinks about cherry being a mom and also when he’s helping them to set up the nursery in the curtis house bc this is something that his mom would have been so excited to help him with. he leans a lot on soda for that reason bc not having a parent around is something that you don’t really get until you’ve lived it.

- i saw someone say a while ago that cherry could end up having supply issues for a little while and GODDD thats so scary and sad bc they’re not in a position to afford formula, no matter how much they need it (two-bit steals some for them.. he’s the best <3)

- omg speaking of… marcia and two-bit are the bestttt aunt and uncle ever (it’s mostly marcia actually caring for the baby and two-bit being a hooligan to make the baby laugh but he’s very good at it :) and they looove having that whole crew (marbit + chetcherrycola) together for a movie/game night when marcia or cherry’s parents are out of town

[made-my-peace-with-all-the-bad]

Marbit as Carry You Home

There’s an old, abandoned house on the east side. It’s not too big and it’s falling apart so no one wants it. No one, except Two Bit. Because he’s passed that house for years, imagining that one day he’d fix it up and he’d take his girl there and they’d live together and be happy. In his imagination, the girl shifted form, sometimes she had short brown hair, sometimes it was long and blonde, sometimes she had green eyes and other times they were brown. But recently, the girl had stayed in the same form. It had taken the form of Marcia. And eventually, he decided to take her to that house.

She was laughing at whatever stupid joke he’d told as they’d walked up to it. He’d turned around and held his arms out to show her the house and he’d asked if she wanted to live there with him one day. She’d laughed a little more and asked if he really wanted to live in that scary and run down of a house. But then he’d taken her hand and started guiding her through it, explaining what he’d do to make it perfect. He shared his dreams of building a porch that would go all the way around the house so they could watch every sunrise and sunset. He guided her into the house and towards a big empty room that he said would one day hold their bed. One day, they’d wake up every morning together, in a comfortable bed, with the morning light shining in through the curtains. And when she said she liked color, he’d immediately told her he’d paint all of their shutters blue.

He brought her to the small backyard of the house, kicking a broken bottle out of the way, and told her to close her eyes and imagine it. Imagine the house, cleaned up, with blue shutters and a bright atmosphere. He told her to imagine a backyard garden that was filled with flowers and food. And she did.

Her mind started swimming with these images of a perfect life with him. How he’d be outside in their garden and she’d chase a toddler with his same messy curls and sun kissed skin into that garden. How the toddler would fling himself into his dad’s arms and she’d collapse into them too. Two Bit’s arms would snake around her waist and he’d pull her close and their perfect baby would be there too. They’d be happy. Maybe they wouldn’t be rich or have a giant house, but they would be everything they needed. And as Marcia is pulled back to the present, grounded by the warm hand in hers, the sun on her face, and the gentle weight of his head on her shoulder, she turns to face him. She kissed him gently and then look back at the rundown house. “So it’s our house?” And his arms found their way around her as he kissed the back of her neck and whispered back, “that’s our house”.

[harryhoney-bee]

Recently I've been dealing with a lot of stress and anxiety. I was wondering if you could write something about what Harry would do to calm you down.

Peace

Summary: Y/n has bad anxiety, but knows Harry is always there for her

Warnings: mentions os anxiety

Word count: less than 1k

I literally do not know how to write anymore it's been 2 years so im sorry for any mistakes

..

He knew something was wrong the moment he stepped foot into their shared flat. Y/N was usually right by the door whenever she heard him coming from the hallway, but the only creature who greeted him as Harry entered their home was Chimichurri, the old and - kinda ugly - cat Y/N had adopted when discovered it was the smallest one in the litter.

The cat rubbed its tail against Harry’s ley, which was covered by the heavy snow pants the man was wearing. He had just come back from a long day at the studio and all he wanted was to cuddle with his wife. 

Wife!

They got married a few months ago. It was a small ceremony, away from the public. Most people were even surprised it had happened so fast… They had been dating only a year before Harry put a rock - a rather big one- on Y/N’s finger. But what could they do? 

When you know, you know.

Harry bent down, just enough to scratch the poor cat's ear. “Hey Chimi, where’s your mom, huh? She's sleeping?” Cat waited a few seconds as if the cat was going to respond. “I told you, when I’m gone you are the one responsible for keeping her well.” 

The cat meowed in response, following Harry to the kitchen, where the purr ball knew he was going to get some treats. Harry opened the cabinet, took a package of Whiskas, and poured it into Chimichurri’s bowl. “Now you be a good boy and stay here while I go looking for mum, alright?”

Harry gave the cat a last glance before heading to their bed, where he expected to find his love. He could hear the faint sound of the TV on, and as he got closer he could identify the voices, it was Amy and Jake from Brooklyn 99. 

He sighed. This was a bad sign, Y/N only watched the Tv show if she was sad.

Waiting for the worst, Harry opened the door, finding Y/N wrapped around blanks, an impassive expression on her face. She didn’t hear him as he got closer to her. “Hey beauty,” Harry kissed her cheeks, smiling as the girl looked up to him, cracking a small smile. 

“I thought you were coming home later today,” Y/N whispered, feeling the prickling of his beard on her skin.

“Nah, couldn’t look at Mitch’s face anymore,” Harry joked. He carefully held her chin, making the girl while caressing her cheekbone with his thumb. “What happened, what got you down?”

Y/N's face initially showed surprise; she thought she had concealed at least a bit of her mental state, but she clearly forgot how well Harry could read her. She got closer to Harry, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him down. The couple laid on the bed, Y/N’s cheeks pressed to Harry's heart, hearing it beat. “I’m not well, H.”

‘I know you aren't, angel,” He turned his face down, looking at her eyes. “Tell me what it is and I’ll fix it, you know I will.! 

“I don’t think you can this time,” she whispered

Y/N battled with anxiety for a long time, something she would get so caught up in her head and now one could take her away from her thoughts. Harry was aware that the only person who could get Y/N better was herself, but he also knew how important his help was.

“Did you schedule with Marcia yet?” Harry asked. 

“No, could you? Please?” she asked with a small voice.

“Of course, love.” Marcia was Y/N’s therapist, it’s been some weeks since Y/N last saw her for an appointment, and it was time for another. Harry quickly got his phone, messaging Marcia’s receptionist. The room was quiet, only the sounds of Harry’s phone could be heard.

“Done,” he said, kissing Y/N lightly on the lips. “Wanna talk about it?” 

She took his hand, playing with his rings. “No, not right now…Maybe later?” She said uncertainly. 

Harry just nodded, kissing her forehead this time. “You know I'm here whenever you need me.”

“You are always here,” She whispered, “It gives me peace.”

“Knowing I’m here?” He whispered back.

“Yes.”

They fell asleep just like that, cuddling each other as Jake said something that made Amy laugh.

The next morning came by as a hope offering. 

Y/N was still asleep when Harry placed a plate full of chocolate pancakes in front of her. “Wha-What is that?” Y/N asked lazily, rubbing her eye off sleepiness.

“A sweet breakfast in bed for my sweet girl,” Harry responded, caressing Y/N's cheeks. “I know yesterday was not a good day for you, and I don’t know how today is gonna come by, but I’m here to make sure it all comes around ok.”

Y/N smiled as she quickly ate her pancakes, stealing kisses from Harry as he watched her happy, warmth in his chest whenever she looked at him.

[mocha1662]

“Date with a doll”(pt.1)

(Dallas Winston x black fem reader)

[Dallas Winston is rough and rough greaser well, he’s more of a hood if you wanna count his past in NEW YORK. But when you meet him for the first time when stumbling across the gang after your car broke down on the wrong side of town, you soon find yourself fascinated with the group and especially Dallas. In first person, cussing, sweet talking, flirting, fluff, first time greetings]

The sun began to set as I drove down the highway heading to the movies to see Cherry Valence and Marcia. I noticed up ahead a traffic guard directing people to a side road away from a car crash up ahead. I followed the other cars now a bit nervous as I knew, I was approaching the east side of town eve though I hadn’t been Tulsa,Oklahoma long I got the gist of what “greasers” were and heard they were bad trouble, I grimaced as I strolled into an unfamiliar neighborhood getting unfamiliar looks, I stuck out like a dumb cause my car was a baby pink Cadillac saw I drove down the street I heard a loud pop making me nearly jump out of my seat, I pulled over by an open lot getting out to check my car. I noticed the front tire was shot, “Darn it!”, I screeched as I kicked the tire quickly regretting it as I yelp jumping up and down holding my foot, I leaned on the front of the car contemplating on what I was gonna do, I figured I could ask for help but who’d be the right choice, all these people looked like they’d steal my car in a second. I sat there looking at the sky as it got darker, I wonder if Cherry would call my dad if I wasn’t there in time, “Look who we got here!”, I turned to see a group of greasers walking my way, I turned back quickly closing my eyes hoping they’d pass but they didn’t. “Heya, doll face.”, one said he had a large grin his face as they got closer, I looked at the others noticing two from my school, the younger looking one with blondish long hair sat near me in my Home Ed class and the taller more handsome one played football, “What’s your name?”, I looked at the grinning one and told him as politely as I could.

“Well, my name’s Two-Bit what brings you over here?”, I pointed at my flat tire as the group looked at it, they all nodded, smirking and snickering. “You’re the new girl in my Home Ed class.”, said the younger one, I nodded, “Your Ponyboy right?”, he nodded, “Let her be, she’s a nice one.”, I smiled, nervously as I made eye contact with the oldest looking one I guessed he was around 20 years old, “H-hey, your Darry Winston? You came and helped with the roofing for my house.”, he nodded, “Oh,yeah I remember you, your pop’s gave me a 20 dollar bill for tip.”, he came forth to check out the busted tire, “Let me see what I can do for you,yeah?”, I nodded gratefully and I moved onto the sidewalk, when the boys started speaking to me. “So, how long you been here?”, “few months, I moved down from New York.”, the group wooed, “We got a big city girl. Yo, Dallas this girl says she’s from the big apple.”, a cold,hard looking boy came in front with a weed(cigarette) hanging out his mouth, “Really?”, I nodded, “Well, good thing you got outta that place, it’s hell.”, I agreed. Darry got up off the ground dusting off his jeans, “It looks like this’ll need to be taken to the mechanic, not only do you have a busted tire your carbonator is almost shot. When’s the last time you’ve went to the mechanic?”, I smiled embarrassed thinking back to when Dad said I should’ve gotten my car looked at as soon as we got into town, it must’ve slipped my mind. “Steve, you think you can fix her up?”, one of the older boys,who I presumed was Steve nodded, “Yep!, how about we push her over to the shop. Shouldn’t take no more than an hour.”, I thanked them grabbing my purse pulling out a 50 dollar bill, “Here, I hope this is enough for your troubles.”, the boys winced up, shaking their hands, “We can’t do that, your not like those other Socs.”, said Steve, I nodded in gratitude. One of Ponyboy’s older brother, Sodapop stepped forward with a movie star smile, “We can take ya home.”, I shook my head, “I was actually heading to a drive in to see friends.”, Dallas grinned wide, “Well, how about we take ya to the best drive-in on this side of town,Doll.”, I nodded putting my hand over my mouth to hide my gushing smile at the nickname. It was decided, Darry,Steve and Sodapop went to the mechanic shop and I collected my belongings started to walk with the other boys in the group. As, we walked I felt an arm snake around me, as I looked at a smiling Dallas with a weed hung from his loose lips, “I’ll keep you safe, Doll.”, I giggled, nervously yet intrigued Two-Bit jumped in front of us with a concerned look, “Don’t let Sylvia see her, Dal. I don’t want that broad roughin’ her up.”, Dallas grimaced, “She ain’t touching this precious thing.”, he looked directly at me, “I’ll make sure of it.” I nodded, taking his arm from under me, “Let’s just be safe.”, I said softly with a smile.

(Hihiii, that’s the part 1! Hope u guys enjoyed and a part 2 will come out very soon!)

[hughiecampbelle]

Being the Smartest Roy Would Include:

A/N: Loosely based off this Peaky Blinders headcanon I wrote ages ago. I love writing baby Roy!Sibling :)

Logan takes all the credit, of course

You were smart even as a baby

You playing consisted of matching colors and shapes, counting, naming all the right animals. You were speaking and walking and talking at such early rates, too. It was impossible not to notice or compare to your siblings

Your mother, the woman between Caroline and Marcia, brought you to doctors, unsure of what to do. Of course, they'd have to wait for you to get older to test your IQ, but there was a lot of good news. You were excelling at a rapid rate

You were given tutors young since you surpassed your peers with the smallest bit of effort. You were bored in your classes with your peers, so much so that you skipped a few grades a few times. By the time you were 8 you were already in a 5th grade class, 13 by the time you graduate High School . You were graduated from an Ivy League by the time you're 18 years old

Kendall was more than happy helping you with your homework, even if it was mostly pretend help with silly questions you got wrong on purpose

"Does that make sense?"

"Yup, thank you Ken."

His smile made it all worth it - even if you had to erase and fix his work after he left

Your language tutors taught you Mandarin, French, Italian, German, Spanish, and Russian. Languages are your favorite thing to learn. Your father is very proud when you can talk to investors, no matter how young you are, in their mother tongue

You like teaching your siblings as well

Shiv listens to you, go on and on about the different cases and grammar, and fun words you can teach her even if she's only half listening

"Do you wanna know how to say cat?"

"Sure."

"Gatta."

"Cool."

Despite your sister's tone, she really was proud of you. You worked hard, and you deserved all this recognition. Besides, you're something of a secret weapon for the family

Roman uses you as his own personal Siri. He asks you things you know, things he thinks you should know, any genius should know

"The meaning of life is complicated. . ."

"What good are you?"

Connor is in awe of you. He never really had the focus for school. It was never his thing, but you amaze him. He'd been reading to you since you were a baby. At first those playful baby books, but as you grew, the books got thicker and thicker until you wanted him to read War and Peace. He eventually had to give up, letting you read it on your own

"How many pages do you have left?"

"300. I'll be finished in an hour."

The older you grow, the more you realize your intelligence has saved you from your fathers wrath, especially when you compare your childhoods. You were never hit or slapped, Logan always treated you like an equal, or at least as close to an equal as he could manage. That created some issues in itself. . .

You were seven and already aware of the amount of money your father had, was making and losing, etc. Poor deals would keep you up at night, worried you'd lose everything and your father would blame you. Gently, you'd have to tell him not to take it, not wanting to make him mad. It was too much stress for a child

Connor tried his best to let you have a childhood. He took you and the rest camping, to the park, the playground. He took you out for ice cream on the weekend and played with real toys, not the educational kind, between classes and tutors. You could turn off your brain with him and just be a kid. It wasn't often that you got to

Being the youngest and the smartest creates some rifts between you and your brothers and sister

You know Kendall is named successor, but you have an awful feeling your father will take it back and give the title to you

You didn't want to run the company, you'd had too much say in it already. You were practically your fathers advisor from the time you were six. If anything, when he retired, you wanted to retire too

You wouldn't dare tell Logan this, of course

He'd call you lazy, stupid, question your intelligence and drive. That was your worst fear, was letting him down, like the rest of your siblings

You fear the only reason he even stands you is because of your mind, your brain, that if you had been born with an average intelligence he would want nothing to do with you

One night you ask your sister this, who tries her best to gently let you down

"Just be grateful you're as smart as you are, okay?"

Roman calls has you as "Baby Genius" in his phone

He has been working your entire life to make as many jokes as possible about your intelligence. You never get tired of them though, instead coming up with comebacks just as quickly

"Give it a break, Poindexter."

"At least I'm capable of chewing gum and walking at the same time, idiot."

He treats you like a person, which is all you've ever wanted. You never wanted special attention or treatment because you're so smart, you just want to be treated like normal

Your father, of course, wouldn't dare. He doesn't want to waste your time, your intelligence. You were born this way for a reason, and he will not put it to waste. He expects more from you

It's exhausting. Not just because your brain never stops, it's always working and worrying and overthinking, but also for the way you're expected to be and act and live from your parents

You're basically your mothers show dog - do some math problems, say something smart, get a treat, and then go back to your crate

Both your parents think your siblings are a bad influence on you

"Y/n, stop fooling around!"

"We were just laughing. . . "

"Well stop it."

Tom is constantly trying to one-up you, but you're just too smart. Not only with math and literature and languages, but art, music, politics, etc. When he talks stupid you can't help but correct him

Cousin Greg is constantly giving you math problems to do on the spot, which he then checks with a calculator to be sure

"What's the square root on 945,678?

"972.45976."

You never have problems with forgetting anything because you also have a photographic memory. This works both in your favor and not. You remember anniversaries, birthdays, things people have said in passing, but you're also forced to relive every time Kendall has gone off script and every time your father has lashed out

You'll never forget the last words your father ever said to you, about how much you wasted your potential, that you were a failure like the rest of them, that he was embarrassed for you and about you. He never should have praised you as much as you did

All you said was that you thought he should leave Waystar to Ken, Shiv, and Rome, that you would be done when he was. You figured you'd get it over with before he made any decisions, not wanting to be left in charge. Of course you had no idea that was the last conversation you'd ever have

On that paper they found, it had been your name instead of Kendall's, underlined at first, crossed out in the end. You have to reassure your siblings that you knew nothing about this, that you told him you didn't want the company. They still don't fully believe you . . .

Being as smart as you are comes with perks of course, but overall it causes a lot of pain. You're not as close to your siblings because they think you're your father's favorite. You try though, you try to keep up the relationships, to be close to them