#but usually I don’t approach them cause I have too much social anxiety and am afraid of rejection and people confuse tf out of me

[natugood]

What I am learning from existing around people who date is that apparently if you want to date someone you just… tell people you think they’re attractive and then ask them to go on a date? And if they say yes then you hang out and essentially conduct an extended vibe check to see if you’d both be down to clown in whatever way you both desire? And then you keep doing that until you decide the vibes are bad or you die, and throughout this process you’ll likely get to know them very deeply in some personal and intimaste way?? Essentially, dating is basically deciding to make a deep connection with someone based on an aesthetic vibe check???

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: I’m a 29yo INFJ lagging in personal development. Low self-worth and a lot of shame about how I am. I started therapy to work on my social anxiety. In the meantime, I read one of your answers (/post/766608536971149312) and it made me want to ask about how to get in touch with who I am. I have a weak sense of self because I have neglected myself for a long time.

I feel like I have no goals, no ambitions, no interests, no identity. I don’t know if I have anything positive to express into the world right now. All I know is I want to connect with people. I like people and it pains me that I don’t know how to be with them. But how can I connect with people when I have nothing to express or contribute (and that, in itself, causes me shame)? How do I begin the journey towards knowing myself?

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

That post was about INTPs with regard to inferior Fe and lack of regard for one's place in the social world. In case it needs to be said, beware of extrapolating information about inferior Fe and trying to apply it to auxiliary Fe. The two should not be treated the same way.

Although they are the same function, the difference in functional stack position makes a big difference in the perspective one ought to take toward function development. Anyone of any type can experience socializing difficulties, but the underlying reasons behind the difficulties are very different for each type and thus require different approaches.

Yes, in many ways, it is problematic to have a weak sense of self. And, yes, being empty inside means you don't have much to contribute to the world outside. Although this might apply to you, is a weak sense of self really the root problem in your particular case?

A weak sense of self is actually simple to address. All you need to do is start living life more openly, actively, and assertively. It's not very difficult to "contribute". If you are an able-bodied person, there are many worthy causes you could devote yourself to. There are lots of possibilities all around you if you open your eyes and look. Get up and get out into the world. Do things. Participate. Get involved. Experiment. Explore. Take charge. Take on more responsibility.

Through gaining a wide variety of life experiences and learning about yourself from them, you'll gradually forge a stronger sense of self. Adolescence to early adulthood (13-25) is normally the time when people do the bulk of their self building, which is why you generally see teenagers demanding more and more autonomy to live life on their own terms. If you've lived a sheltered life, either because your parents sheltered you or you sheltered yourself, then you are more likely to have a weak sense of self because of not possessing enough worldly experience. It's never to late to start, though.

But you aren't able to implement this simple solution, are you? Why is that? You mention social anxiety, the root of which is usually shame, most likely toxic shame. Shame is a normal and healthy response to falling short of moral ideals, i.e., feeling like a "bad" person prompts you to change your behavior for the better and become a "good" person.

However, toxic shame is about not valuing yourself because other people have, intentionally or not, made you believe that you have no value, perhaps to the point where you believe you are inherently a bad person who can't change. Shame is a more primary concern in your case than weak sense of self, though the two can be related.

The real world mirrors back to you the truth of who you are. Therefore, in order to see yourself, you have to make yourself seen out there in the real world. But the world is an imperfect mirror. If you've been unlucky and encountered too many people throughout life who have made it clear that they don't like what they see when they look at you, it is only natural for you to not like looking at yourself as well. You are not to blame for that.

This raises an interesting question, though. How reliable and valid were those people's perceptions of you? After all, we know that human beings suffer from many kinds of biases and prejudices. Are you certain that the people who have judged you did so objectively and impartially? Are you certain that those people were eminently qualified to appraise you and your worth? You'd better be certain, that is, if you're going to adopt their way of judging you and put yourself down so harshly.

Framing the problem like this, perhaps you can start to see that it goes deeper than Fe. Perhaps it goes all the way down to Se. It is easy to spot INFJs with unhealthy Se. They are usually unwilling or unable to participate in the real world. Why? In the real world, there is no place to hide, so you don't get to indulge the fantasies of unhealthy Ni. You don't get to lie about who you really are. It is safer and more comfortable to live in an insulated world of your own making, where you don't have to hear outside opinions about yourself.

Isn't that what you really mean when you say you've "neglected yourself for a long time"? That you've purposely avoided facing up to reality and, thus, haven't been developing your potential? Perhaps it's time to confront the discomfort you feel in the real world and understand what it's really about? Perhaps it's time for you to grapple very seriously with the question of how you define the worth of a person?

Do you believe that every person you meet has to "contribute" something to you in order for you to consider them worthy of your time and attention? That's a very cold and transactional approach to human relationship, isn't it? If you don't believe that, why would you assume that you must "contribute" something in order to call yourself worthy?

It's easy to spot people who suffer from toxic shame. They behave as though they don't have a right to speak or even a right to exist. Do you believe you have a right to exist in this world? If so, speak up for yourself and take up the space that is rightfully yours. You really want to connect with people? You'll find it difficult as long as you believe you're not a person worth connecting with and that no one would want to connect with you.

You've asked me how to get to know yourself better. I've pointed you to the best path, which is to participate fully in the real world and go through the exciting process of building a life of substance for yourself. Maybe this is the last thing you want to do, but that usually indicates it's the most important thing you have to do.

Do you struggle with Ti loop? Such INFJs commonly react to good advice with excuses as to why they can't do it or how it doesn't apply to their "special" case, or they'll go around soliciting opinions from a million people until someone tells them it's okay to keep avoiding reality. I'm not here to convince people to change. I can only tell you that facing up to your fears and challenging yourself to do difficult things is necessary for real growth to happen. Whether you do it is in your hands.

[looney-mooney]

Okay the way I combat this is typically to give each character a SUUUUPER distinctive voice or vocal pattern. As an obvious example, for Pinky and the Brain I made myself a little cheat sheet of what each of Pinky’s vocal ticks subconsciously means (Poit is sad or contemplative, Narf is happy, ETC) and sprinkled them all into his dialogue while giving him nonsensical things to say. Meanwhile, I let Brain be the intellectual megalomaniacal narcissist he is, and suddenly it’s ridiculously easy to tell who’s talking just based on what the dialogue itself is.

I do this with other characters too- since Perry the Platypus can’t talk, he’s usually the POV character who communicates with the audience via actions, body language, and internal dialogue, while Doof communicates through his endless rambling streams of external dialogue. Gibson has a lot of anxiety and pushes forward the veneer of being an intellectual (including his ridiculous British accent), while Otto doesn’t care what people think about him because he knows he’s good at what he does, and is therefore much more whimsical and easygoing. Zim is narcissistic and prone to declarative statements like “I am ZIM” or “FOOLISH (adjective/noun)” and communicates rather directly even when he’s hiding something, while Dib (still being just as manic/unpredictable/almost as self-centered as Zim) is more scheming and thoughtful in his approach and will try to wheedle out the meaning/“REAL TRUTH” behind things, while Gaz doesn’t CARE about any of that and just wants to protect her personal status quo, and is willing to cause harm to make that so, and Gir is clueless to any of these social dances and just chases dopamine wherever he can find it, while still caring about the people around him more than anyone else (if for no other reason than interacting with the people around him being a source of joy).

Anyway, If I had to do this with Josh and Jayson up there, it seems like Josh is cocky, flirtatious, smooth and is always at least PRETENDING to be in control, whereas Jayson is usually the one who’s actually more aware of what the situation actually is, but is more nervous and prone to bouts of anxiety or contemplation. Josh is too confident to ask serious questions, but Jayson is the one who actually knows more because he’s always asking questions. There isn’t much to go off of for the third guy, but he seems to be the one with the braincell - the Doctor McCoy to Josh and Jayson’s Kirk and Spock, if you will.

Anywho, by doing this I don’t even need to use name tags or pronouns most of the time. And when I do use a name tag, I’ll usually have it there as part of an action. Not as an excuse to clarify who’s saying what in a slightly more natural way (although it does do that), but because I’m an animator above all else and mostly think in terms of actions.

One of the hardest parts of writing gay anything is that they (often) use the same pronouns. Balancing names and pronouns so that I'm not overusing either of them is maybe THE hardest part of writing for me, because if you use 'he' too many times in a row you'll lose track of who's doing what, but too many names is repetitive and awkward to read!

[spookysmujer]

Maraschino pt.2, O. Diaz

Summary: After the rejection from Oscar, things seems to take you on a roller coaster ride. 

warnings: angst, f e e l s, theTEAbeenSPILLED ☕️ daddy issues

word count: 3.5K

a/n: Here is the highly requested part 2 of Maraschino! I had fun writing this though if it is trash it’s because I wanted to hurry and get it out for y’all since I been getting msgs. heh. But Ray? Whew chile, the ghetto! Part 3? Please enjoy and don’t forget: follow the blog, heart/comment/reblog the content as well as turn on the notifs! (Y/S/N: your sister’s name)

(gif belongs to @thesewickedhands​ ✨)

 “Have a wonderful day!”

God, why is the person yelling? You smile weakly and squeeze your eyes nearly shut as the sun is blazing down on you while you say your thanks and exit the uber. The throbbing of your head and the loud lawnmower from one of your neighbors has you internally cursing.

How did you end up like this? Granted this was the plan last night to go out and have a good time, you certainly did not expect to be doing such a thing. You never let yourself get to this point before. But you also never got denied like you did with Spooky last night. A shiver goes through your body as you think of him. You won’t let him infiltrate your mind no more.

“Y/N!” Your sister’s voice sounds frantically as you round the corner of the house.

Well there goes your plan to sneak in through your window to pretend you were in your room all along. She wraps your arms around you, gluing herself to your body causing you to stumble back a bit. “You are a dead woman walking!” She whispers to you as you arch an eyebrow at her. 

As confused as you were, José appears from around the corner taking long strides towards you. His face sports no emotion of missing you but a lot of anger. It causes you to automatically back up the closer his approaches you. Your sister has since removed herself from you as your brother is now in your face.

You blink as you peer up at him, “Where the fuck have you been, hermana? You know how much shit you are in, hm? I get a call from Y/S/N saying you aren’t home. I assure her you would be and when she calls me at 6 in the morning telling me that you still aren’t in? You left a note?”

“José! Calmate, I went out with a friend. And I spent the night. What’s the big deal about that?” You briefly explain yourself. He laughs for a moment before grabbing you by your upper arm and pulling you towards your sister. Now it’s her turn to start backing up, “Ven aqui, her! That’s the big deal. When I ask you to be the sister you need to be, I don’t mean when you feel like it. You know the Santos have been getting into heavy shit lately. I need you here when I’m not!” 

The tension is thick as you pull your arm from his hold and push him, “But when you wanna go and do whatever it’s okay? When you wanna hitch a ride with Spooky to Sin City with dirty ass hynas last week, it’s all good. Business trip, huh? Don’t come for me when you are far from perfect!” 

The two of you are both very stubborn with your brother usually being calm and collected while you’re more expressive with your feelings. Family is important to him especially considering it’s just the three of you. Jose scoffs as you stomp away from him and your now crying sister. 

Oscar suddenly appears in front of you as round the corner and collides with his body. He reaches out to grasp you before you can stumble back, the feelings hitting you all at once, “What are you doing here?” You swallow thickly.

He licks his bottom lip as his eyes rake over your body. Still in your dress from last night, hair unruly and make-up smudged. Anyone can spot a ‘walk of shame’ when they see one. He laughs internally thinking of how you wasted no time after last night’s rejection.

“I offered to drive him when little hermanita called up again worried you weren’t home yet. Seems we know why now.” A small grin painted across his lips, you squint your eyebrows at his words as you hear your brother approaching the two of you. You step back before Spooky migrates his eyes to behind you, “We got business, everything good here?”

José nods and steps beside you, “Don’t be leaving.”

The two guys leave as you stand there a bit dumbfounded. Y/S/N appears next to you and grabs your hand. She apologizes for you getting into trouble with José. You want to yell at her for starting unnecessary drama. But she explains she didn’t want your brother to potentially find out about your little sneaky link with Spooky.

“Well, he and I ended that shit so nothing to worry about. I went out and got wasted. I am done with these guys. No más!” Though even sounding like fake news to yourself, you go and wash off last night’s memories. 

As the day had gone by, you skimmed through your daily journal of all the entries you wrote about Oscar ‘Spooky’ Diaz, ripping them out. All 6 pages. You roll your eyes at your thoughts about him, some sappy and some nasty. How did you believe a man who runs a street gang, that is as mean mugging as Oscar the Grouch from Sesame Street, would be into you the way you are him?

It didn’t matter the answer now. Good riddance of him! That’s when the sound of your window opening pulls you from the wandering thoughts. You stand up quickly, reaching for a bat that’s besides your bed. “Get the fuck out!”

“Calmate! It’s me, Oscar.”

You clutch your chest, doubling over to catch your breath. “What is wrong with you? Ever think of flying a pebble at the window or calling first?” You say as he climbs in, adjusting his flannel before closing the window then your room door. You watch him as he starts to look around your room. Though there’s a part of you that wants him out, you haven’t made any advances to get him out.

He sits on your bed and finally looks at you, “Abajo.”

Uncompliant, you cross your arms and shift your weight to make it known you are fine standing there. He smirks and looks away before locking eyes with you. “You don’t think I like you too? You think I fucked with you for this long cause it was just convenient? Girls everywhere around my place but I was only fucking you. Why do you think that?”

“Is this supposed to be your sweet confession that makes me go all heart eyes? You're gonna apologize and I’m supposed to forgive you and then we give us a try and realize all our worries were nothing but fear that our anxiety instilled in our heads? Because that’s not how it’s gonna go.” You say as he gives you a semi-disgusted look.

You chuckle softly and watch him intently.

Oscar analyzes you closely. It’s a front, no doubt he thinks. He doesn’t deny the thought that you are a thick-skinned woman. He knows you have a superior mind and a mouth to go with it but he knows there is no way that you could’ve gotten over him that quick. Though judging by your appearance earlier in the day, you definitely tried.

You laugh a little more as you step in front of him and lean over to get your vision in line with his. “You made it clear to me and now I’m making it clear. Nothing you say will convince me that you give a rat’s ass about me. If you really did? There would be no sneaky link shit. You wouldn’t have a problem with people knowing about me, or my brother knowing but it is a problem so get out.”

This ticks Ocscar off a bit. He stands which makes you straighten up as he gets in your face, stepping towards you. You are stepping back slowly as he creeps more, “You think you can handle this lifestyle? The constant threats, the territories? You can’t. When it comes to this kind of life, something like love can be the bane of your existence. So we don’t get into it. We don’t get involved because the people we fall for end up dead.”

You’re pressed with your back against the wall and your chests against each other. Oscar’s eyebrows are connected and he’s staring at your agape mouth. His breath is fanning against your lips, emotions hitting you all at once. “I-I slept with someone last night. Got it good too.”

The jealous tactic seems to fail immediately as Oscar laughs. And for some reason the look of amusement on his face seems to be familiar for a reason you can’t seem to figure out.

“Sleeping around is simple, falling for someone is something else entirely. I’m not saying that we jump into something. But at least you know now it’s not just one-sided.” He steps out of your room. You follow and watch him walk down the hall as Y/S/N stands there. She is stunned seeing Oscar nonchalantly trek through the house.

You don’t know what to say. As you look at your little sister, you sigh in defeat trying to explain this one. Instead you go back into your room and shut your door. You got what you wanted, right? But you still feel like something is missing. 

The week had slowly crept on.

A few shifts at the bodega, classes at the community college and life at home. Jose had basically converted you back to your teenage ways. Making sure you were doing your part in parenting your little sister. Friday night Y/S/N wanted to have Dwayne’s BBQ for dinner and since your social life is drier than your skin, you agree. 

The thought of a�� BBQ bacon cheeseburger lifts your mood which has been dragging throughout the week. Your sister happily skips into the restaurant as you trail behind slowly, when you enter you look for her and see she chatting up with Dwayne. 

“Y/N!” José calls out and your vision unfocuses from them onto your brother and pile of Santos in a booth. They all look your way including Oscar. You exhale a deep breath through your nose as you put on a fake smile and wave before stepping up to place an order. 

 Your brother approaches you as you look past him to the booth of Santos, “Didn’t know you guys would be here.” He sets down a $20 bill on the counter when the cashier tells you the total. “Foos gotta eat too.” José starts talking to you about something but your focus falls back on Spooky again. You watch as he stands and makes his way towards you. A small panic sets in your chest but fades away as he ends up exiting the BBQ joint. 

Unknowingly to yourself, your watch as he walks to his car. He leans against it and pulls out a cigarette, no matter how hard you try to avert your eyes from him, you can’t. All week you had been doing fine. Even with the little things reminding you of him, even with the memories that have been seeped into your bed. You didn’t dwell too much on thinking of him until you see him now. 

“Talk to him.” 

It’s just like the movies where the car tires come to a screeching halt and there’s the obnoxious crashing sound. You move your eyes to your brother’s. Did he just say what you think he said? “Talk to him? Spooky, what for? Why would I need to talk to him?”

Jose chuckles, “Hermana, I had my suspicions about you two. Then he told me bout it, he acts like it doesn’t bother him much but it does so go talk to him. Yeah, I’m not so thrilled that he’s messing around with my baby sister. I know how he is but I know he wouldn’t do anything to intentionally hurt you so I’m cool with it. So go talk to him, figure that shit out because I’m getting over you moping around the house.”

You push him away as you look back to the red impala.  After a moment of contemplating it, you decide to head out and approach Oscar, he had his eyes on you since he settled by his car. You lean on it besides him and cross your arms, “You told my brother?”

He smirks and shrugs his shoulders. You try your best to keep the smug look off your face. He holds out the cigarette, you take it and inhale. Coughing a bit as the smoke burns your throat a little. You hand it back and sigh, turning to look at him.

“I like you, you like me. I’m not saying we jump into something… but why not?” You question as he exhales some smoke, you lock your eyes into his, “You ain’t cut for this lifestyle, you would be a liability. Plus your brother in my line of work? That makes him vulnerable as well. It woul--”

You groan loudly which quiets him mid-rant, “Drugs, alcohol and money do all the same things to him too. You see how he is when he gets wasted. There are so many things that make you all vulnerable. If he can make it work with the hyna he’s with, then you can make it work with me. Plus I know this lifestyle more than you think. I know when and where to be and not to be. I know who to know and who not to know. I know things! So don’t act all big bad Spooky to me.”

Now standing directly in front of him and he’s peering down at you. He dips his face lowers and looks at your lips as you look at his. In no time your lips are connected. Oscar slides his hands over your waist, gripping it and pushing you flush against him. You bring your hands to cup his face, letting your tongue slip into his mouth. A full on make-out session breaks out.

As if you didn’t dream of something like this happening you smile into the kiss, pulling away, “You get into this with me, it’s not gonna be glitter and gold. This shit is tough, I can’t be worrying about the things I already do plus you.” You nod and kiss him again, wringing your arms around his neck, he hugs you and feels calm for the first time in a while.

So you enjoy the night more than you thought you would be. With your siblings and the Santos at Dwayne’s. After a night of chatting, Oscar asks you to come back to his place. And well since it isn’t your first rodeo, you agree and send Y/S/N home with José. 

You don’t keep your hands off him while heading back to his place, you are pressed against him and kissing his neck, he is loving every moment of it. The both of you get out to head into the house but the mood is killed when you walk in to find Cesar and his friends on the couch who get frightened due to the scary movie playing on the TV.

Oscar cursing under his breath, “Can’t you watch movies at some else’s house?” You elbow him as he rolls his eyes. But Cesar didn’t want to start anything with his older brother so he asks Jamal if they can continue watching at his house. Soon after the house is empty and quiet again. The two of you settle on the couch, you straddling him and pulling your top off.

“Yo! There’s someone posted up outside!” Cesar suddenly bursts through the door which causes Oscar to push you off him and reach for his gun. He tells the younger Diaz, his friends and you to stay put as he checks out the fool that runs up on the Santo trap house. You scramble to put your shirt back on and curse when Cesar trails after his brother. You follow in pursuit, trying to tell Cesar that Oscar said to stay inside. “Who is that?” 

“Ray?” You say out loud though you thought you were just thinking it.

Oscar turns to you when you say the name of none other than his estranged father. You look to both Ray and Oscar, looking at the two men and making the connection. You feel the color get sucked out of your face, oh fuck.

“You know him, who is he?” Cesar asks you and he looks at Oscar. The Santo leader has his eyes on you and is still confused as to how the hell you know his father. “He’s our father.” Oscar says, still looking at you.

The confirmation makes you want to be obliterated right in your very spot. This can’t be happening! Is it? You try to speak but nothing comes out of your mouth. You finally look to Ray who has a small smirk on his face and that’s why that look Oscar had on his face that day seemed so familiar. You saw it that night you went out of town to have a good time. 

“Hola de nuevo, pequeña coyote.” Ray says looking at you. 

You grimace as Oscar connects the dots himself. The amount of heat that settles into your face along with the gasps from Cesar’s friends don’t make it any easier to bear.

“Wait Oscar, wait!” He is stepping towards his father, ready to charge. “I didn’t know he was your dad! Listen to me, please!” You step forward quickly and pull his arm back, he yanks it out of your grasp quickly as you plead for him to listen to you.

Oscar begins to snap at you, “Him? This is who you slept with and you want me to listen to explain? Huh?!” The anger booms in his voice as he is mere inches from your face. Cesar appears next to you trying to get between the two of you. You didn’t think Oscar could ever get so mad. And you have seen the Santo leader in moments of rage before. 

“Mijo, listen..” 

Ray’s voice sounds from behind Oscar now. He turns and wastes no time in welcoming him with a right hook. His father stumbles back as you gasp along with the sounds from the teens. “Oscar!”

You take the initiative to stand between the two of them, holding out a hand against Oscar’s chest as he is heaving and exuding anger. Ray is mending to his jaw as he stands up. You notice the lights of the neighbor had turned on and people were beginning to pile outside of their homes to see all the commotion.

“Oscar just stop and listen to me for one fucking second! No, I did not sleep with Ray. We did get together that night, yes but we didn’t do anything that involves other body parts. I started going off about you with him, I vented and we spent the night drinking. I got too wasted and he offered to let me spend the night in his motel room. Nothing happened!” You release in one breath. 

Everyone looks at you, unable to make sense of the situation. 

“That’s why I came, when she mentioned things about you, I had to come see for myself if what niña said is true. That you’re running the Santos.” The two men stare at each other as you stand in the middle. Your heart is racing. 

Oscar doesn’t say anything as he looks back and forth between his father and you. When you step towards him and reach out to grab his hand, he raises his hand up in defense and steps back. You can see the glint of hurt in his eyes as he backs away from you. Your eyes pleading for him to try to understand everything.

You trail behind a fuming Oscar into his house, you are nearly jogging when you catch up with him. But he steps into his room and slams the door in your face. You step back and sigh. “Please talk to me…Oscar. Nothing happened, you have to believe me.” 

He doesn’t respond as you rest your head on his door. You hold your hands on the door silently cursing yourself. What could you say that made the situation sound better? How could you make it look like it really was nothing even with Ray right there?

A few moments have passed by when the door opens, a still very upset Oscar stands there as he flies forwards a bunch of crumbled paper at you. You watch as the papers fall to your feet and he slams the door in your face again. No context of nothing. 

When you pick up the papers, it’s drawings of you. Portraits sketched out from a ballpoint pen. Some dated as far back as a month ago to as recent as a few days ago. Oscar drew you. He did so multiple times and in such craft it takes your breath away. 

You feel the tears begin to well in your eyes. The pain that you have caused him. How do you fix this?

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[antisocial-hatred]

questions for my fellow antisocials

I'm working on a post that will explain AsPD in detail, including some sort of personal experience but mostly focusing on data and statistics. Since great part of the knowledge we have of the disorder is collected from criminals' behavior, I wanted to add insights regarding people with AsPD who can function in a society (more or less). I will accept every answer but I'd prefer if the edgy teens and the "I'm the worst case of psychopathy my therapist has ever seen" stayed out of this, and please try to be honest about your own experience, it’s not a race to see who’s worse off Here are the questions, you can answer to all or just a few ofc: 1. Do you have any other disorder? 2. How would you describe the way you perceive feelings? We all know our emotions are toned down, but where do you feel them? Most neurotypicals identify an energy in correspondence of the heart, while for me it's more like I know I'm feeling something but I can't really place it anywhere in my body, so i's kinda as if I rationally know I'm sad but I don't feel the "sadness" physically. I've definitely felt some emotions tho, it just happens very rarely and I was wondering if maybe it was related to AsPD. 3. Have you ever felt love for a person or do you just view relationships as a contract, because you think someone may deserve your time and effort? Again, to me it's like I generally know I love that person and sometimes I actually feel it, for a couple of minutes. 4. At what point in a relationship would you break up? 'Cause we often say that as soon as the contract isn't beneficial anymore we hop out, but at the same time we like chaotic situations and can tolerate more stress than the average person (and also I personally hate opening up with someone, so if I choose a person I'll try to make it work 'til the end). 5. Do you think you can spot a person with AsPD by their appearance? They usually say we have a creepy stare, a controlled body language or those "Sanpaku eyes" which I don't quite get tbh, although I've been told before that my eyes look "weird". I think I can spot people with AsPD by their looks but manly by the way they approach and by what they say during conversations, for example a controlled body language, avoiding sharing personal infos, people pleasing and not moving the eyes much are indicators for me; anyway my biggest concern is about eyes, 'cause NTs seem so bothered by them and I don't really see anything wrong, do most of them look plain normal or am I missing something? 6. Where do you stand on the political compass? Do you usually have strong opinions or do you stay in the middle? I'm an anarcho-communist and very opinionated, since it's the only way I remember what I can morally tolerate 7. Do you feel anxiety, fear and panic, if so at what intensity and for how long? 8. Do you find yourself making better choices than neurotypicals thanks to your ability to act rationally? 9. Have you ever been spotted manipulating someone? If so, how did you react? 10. Do you have trouble using social media? Do you have a different approach based on your followers/the main topics discussed on the social media? 11. Do you need to "recharge your social battery" after spending time with people? Do you experience distress after masking (= putting a mask on to make social interactions) for too long? 12. Which are the most common myths about AsPD, false or not? If you need something to start with: misrepresentation in media, stigma and ableism (psychopaths are sadistic monsters who like to hurt people, empathy is necessary to be a good person...), general beliefs enforced by science (psychopaths tend to say "uhm" more often, psychopaths have a lower resting heart rate and less emotional responses than neurotypicals...), you can even just share a fact and say if it applies to you 13. What are the least discussed symptoms of AsPD? 14. Do you tend to sympathize more with the victim or the abuser? Please elaborate also based on the gravity of the crime and the way it touches you personally (for example if it’s a trigger or you’re involved somehow) 15. Do you say “sorry” often? Does it bother you to say it? Would you describe yourself as hostile? Thanks for your time and hope you enjoyed answering, follow me if you want to stay updated on the post :D

[dumdumsun]

Forever and Never

A/N: A long one because it was a fun one. My absolute favorite chapter!

Warnings: mentions of marijuana, rape, blood and violence

Word Count: 6135

—————————————

Six: The Breakfast Club

“What are you thinking about?”

“H-Huh? What do you mean?”

“You’re smiling for the first time today. What are you thinking about?”

“...Stan.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Apparently, I had slept through all of my alarms because when I awoke the next day, it was almost nine. Cursing aloud, I sprang out of bed and zoomed to my closet, ripping out any clothes I could find. Not having time to pull together something totally retro as per usual, I threw on a maroon hoodie, wedged into blue skinny jeans, and slipped on my white sneakers. I applied deodorant and stuck a piece of gum into my mouth before slinging my backpack on. The school was a fifteen-minute walk from my house. I was going to be so fucking late. I was skipping every other step on my way downstairs when I heard a voice call out to me.

“Whoa, you’re still here?”

On my right was Jacob, sitting in the living room and watching television. He stood from the couch and slowly approached me with a smirk. “What are you doing here still?”

“What are you doing here still?”

“I don’t have classes today, Bug,” He lightly teased before gently pushing me towards the door. “Let’s go before you miss anymore school. Hopefully, you don’t get detention.”

“I won’t, Jake.”

I did. As soon as I opened the door to my English class, all eyes were on me like a newcoming circus act. Ms Anderson’s eyes cut to me the second I stepped in and before I knew it, she was stomping towards me, gently ushering me out of the room with her. When we were alone, she crossed her arms and stared down at me. I felt like a child getting scolded for breaking an expensive vase or something. “(Y/N), this is your fourth tardy this month.”

“I know…”

“Is there something we need to talk about?”

There are so many things I need to talk about.

“No… I just… um… I-It’s been a rough few days…”

“Well, I would let this slide, but I’ve already broken the rules twice for you. I’m sorry, dear, but I’m going to have to give you detention. Okay?”

Dammit, Jake… “Okay, fine. Can I just go back to class now?” I sighed. My teacher nodded and opened the door for me. Stepping inside, I was met with the smiles of Dina, Stan and Ricky all directed towards me. I returned the smiles towards my two friends before taking my seat beside Dina. Throughout class, two eyes bore into the back of my head, and I tried my best not to turn and look at who they belonged to. He was catching on. On my way to choir, I heard Ricky calling out to me. He was pushing and shoving past students until he was by my side.

“Babe, what’s been going on with you?” He gently nudged me, but my eyes stayed trained forward. “Oh, so the silent treatment… Are you gonna tell me what I did or am I gonna have to figure it out?” Silence. “Right, okay. I get it. Hey, listen, when you’re out of your bitchy mood, make sure to come talk to me.” And with that, he turned and walked in the opposite direction. Letting out a breath, I slowed my pace along with the beat of my heart. I never wanted anyone to dictate the way I felt, the way my anxiety sky-rocketed when they were around. But it seemed I was letting Ricky do everything to me.

When lunchtime rolled around, I wanted nothing more than to eat my first meal of the day. All throughout English and choir, my stomach had been curling into itself and I felt stupid for not at least grabbing a granola bar before I left home. After grabbing my food, I joined Stan at a near-vacant lunch table. He had been mindlessly picking at his lunch when I sat across from him. “Good afternoon, beautiful.” I whispered. Hearing my voice, he didn’t need to look up.

“Hey, (Y/N)...”

“(Y/N)? Whoa, what’s wrong?”

“Uh, it’s just Syd. She won’t talk to me…”

A pang of jealousy went through my heart. Knowing we’d never talk about our kiss the other night didn’t prevent my wave of disappointment whenever he mentioned Sydney. I mean, how do you even kiss a girl and then talk about a totally different one days later? As much as I love Stan, he could be an idiot sometimes…

I hadn’t even noticed I was spacing out until his voice spoke loud enough for me to snap back into reality. He had been staring at me with raised brows, an expectant look on his face. “O-Oh, sorry… Uh, do you wanna hang out later? Like, when we get home?” I calmly asked, my eyes flickering to the fading bruise decorating his eye. He shifted in his seat and returned back to his lunch.

“Um… I’ll see.” He mumbled, my throat constricting at his words.

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

Whitaker watched me like a hawk as I turned into the girls’ restroom.

“Don’t think I don’t know that trick, (Y/L/N)! You better get to the gymnasium as soon as you’re done!”

“Yes, sir.” I mumbled and closed the door behind me. To be honest, I didn’t think he knew that trick and was absolutely planning on spending the entirety of my detention in the restroom. Letting out a sigh, I leaned against the wall and texted Jacob.

Me: I got detention. Pick me up at 7 please?

Jake: Haha! I’ll be there, don’t worry

Jake: And don’t try hiding out in the bathrooms. Whitaker knows that trick

Me: Noted

Pocketing my phone, I pushed the door open and trudged to the gym. Even with the doors closed, I could hear Whitaker screaming at whoever else was inside. With a small groan, I lazily used my body to open one of the doors, the principal’s voice quieting as the screech of the hinges echoed throughout the room.

“Ms (Y/L/N), I would have thought that after getting detention for tardiness, you’d learn to be more punctual. Take a seat!” Whitaker boomed. Rolling my eyes, I moved over to the bleachers, surprised to see Sydney, Stan, Brad, Dina and… Jenny Tuffield.

I could be irritated with people all I wanted, but I never completely ignored or even spat insults or such at them, unless they truly did something to hurt me or the ones I care about. Hence the reason I ignore Ricky. But Jenny brought out a side of me I really despised. It was a side of myself that thought of the worst things to say and spewed them out without hesitation, resulting in a back-and-forth war between the two of us. It usually ended with death threats and flipping the birds to each other, but we’ve never physically fought. That could change one day, who knows? I could feel her sickening smirk as I passed her to sit in front of Stan, who looked bewildered to see that I was here with him in detention. I patted his knee before turning back to Whitaker, who had been waiting for me to do as I was told. Satisfied, he continued on.

“Now that you all are here,” He cut me a look. “I want you to take the next few hours and think about your mistakes. And carve out in your mind a plan for change. Determine how to improve yourselves. Define what the word ‘respect’ means to you.”

Get a job, dude…

“Now you can start by respecting this beautiful gymnasium. Between now and seven p.m., you’re gonna scrape up every goddamn piece of gum from the bleachers,” He stepped forward and slammed a box down in front of us, no doubt full of the tools needed for our manual labor. The six of us all rolled our eyes as Whitaker stepped back again. “Get started.”

“Uh, Mr Whitaker, sir,” I heard Stan from behind me. “Um… Will there be a break for snacks or dinner?”

Silence was his answer. Whitaker stared at Stan as if he’d just asked him to lick his shoes before exiting the gym. From behind me, I felt him lean forward towards Sydney, picking up on their very quiet and very short exchange.

“Hey, I’m really sorry-”

“No. I’m not talking to you, okay?”

Reaching over, I tugged on Stan’s jacket sleeve, the boy shuffling so that our faces were right beside each other. “What are you doing in here?”

“I called File a motherfucker.”

“You- What?”

“Okay,” Dina’s voice interrupted us, causing everyone to turn to her as she stood from her spot beside Brad. “I know none of us wanna be here right now, but I was thinking, if we divide and conquer the bleachers, maybe we could be done before seven and Whitaker will let us out early, so…” Her suggestion earned a smile from her boyfriend and a sarcastic remark from Jenny, who I nearly forgot even existed. She clapped her hands, everyone turning to her.

“Go team!” She mimicked your everyday cheerleader as Dina sat back down, a look of irritation on her face.

“I’m not a cheerleader.”

“Maybe you should be.”

“Maybe you should be in prison.”

“Ooh. That’s my wet dream…” She drawled out, running her tongue over her top teeth. I rolled my eyes and turned my head away.

“I don’t know, guys,” Stan spoke up. “This gum has been here for decades. I don’t think Whitaker actually checks. It’s just a social experiment, like a simulation.”

“Oh. Well, someone’s been smoking their supply.” Brad quipped. I narrowed my eyes and was about to give a sly remark when Jenny interrupted.

“You know what?” She whipped her body around to face us all, that wicked smile stretched across her face. “I have an idea. Why don’t we play Fuck, Marry, Kill?”

I couldn’t help myself. “What are you, thirteen?” I snarled. Our fellow delinquents stared between us with unease. “You say it like we’re about to huff some fucking gasoline. Are you supposed to be some kind of badass?”

Her eyes slid over to me, her grin widening. “Awe, Zip, I haven’t spoken to you in so long, I thought you died…”

“I wish you died…”

“So, who goes first?” Her head snapped towards everyone else, her finger moving towards each person in the room. “Eenie… meenie… miney… Brad.” She whispered out. Brad looked towards his girlfriend.

“Guess if I had to-”

“No. Not another word.” Dina shook her head.

“Oh, what about you, Miss Goody-Goody? Or are you too afraid to play?” Jenny gave a fake pout.

“Why would I be afraid?”

“Cool then. Fuck, Marry, Kill. Stanley Barber… Mr Whitaker… and… Syd.”

“Well, clearly, I’m killing Whitaker.”

“So are you gonna fuck Syd or marry her?”

Dina exhaled through her nose before looking to her right, eyes locking with Sydney. “Total life goal to marry your best friend, if Syd’ll have me.” She softly spoke, bringing a small smile to my face at their soft exchange. Of course, though, Jenny had to ruin it.

“Oh, so then it’s you and Stan in an all-day bone sesh. Ugh, you little slut.”

So over the sound of her fucking voice, I threw my head back in annoyance. “Jesus Christ, Jenny, you are so fucking boring!”

“No need to tell him about it,” She laughed tauntingly. “I’m guessing you wanna go next, since you got my attention. Or are you saving all of the sex and marriage for your little boyfriend?”

“Oh, bite me.”

“Ooh, where?”

Snapping, I slapped my hand down on the space beside me, my gaze set and locked on her. “No one gives a shit about you, Jenny!”

“And people care about you, Zip?! Where’s your fucking dad?!”

Fire in my eyes, I lunged towards her, but felt hands grabbing onto my shoulders and sitting me back down. The hands soothingly rubbed my arms as Jenny cackled. “Come on, (Y/N), it’s just all fun here… Now, for you, your very own Ricky Berry… Stan… and Dina.”

Scratching my cheek, I rolled my eyes so far back, I could feel them do a three-sixty rotation. “Fucking hell, you never give up. Fine, I’d marry Dina, fuck Stan, kill Ricky.”

Jenny lowly whistled as the hands on my arms slowly slid away. “But Zip, I thought you two were in love,” Her grin was something of evil as her brows bounced. “You guys had so much fun, fucking at his party. Oh! Or is it because you were drunk off your ass and he wasn’t?”

“Jenny, shut the fuck up-”

“No consent whatsoever… Boyfriend of the year…”

Having Jenny see me break down in front of everyone was not a moment in time I’d ever want to experience. She already got what she wanted, a reaction from me. She didn’t need a bonus. So, standing to my feet, I darted to the locker room, trying my best to block out Jenny’s laughing. I couldn’t help the tears that cascaded down my cheeks as I stood in front of one of the mirrors, hastily wiping them away.

Why are you letting her get to you? Why are you letting Ricky get to you? He can’t hurt you anymore, stop crying about it!

The creaking of the door sent my body into a stiffened, frozen state. That was, until I heard his voice, “Hey, lovely…” Turning my head to Stan, I sighed out.

“Hey, beautiful…” I sniffled as he made his way over to me. We stood in a comfortable silence, Stan understanding that I needed a moment to compose myself. “S-Sorry about that. You know I just fucking hate her guts-”

“No, I get it. We all hate her guts.” He cracked a smile. I quietly chuckled and stuffed my hands into my hoodie pockets. “Do you wanna talk about it, (Y/N)?”

“Not really… I don’t wanna think about it right now…”

“I know, but, like, it’s good to talk to someone about… you know, traumatic things that happen so it doesn’t bottle up-”

“Yeah, I know, Stan, I just can’t- I can’t think about it right now. We can do it, like, later… Not at school.”

He slowly nodded. “Totally. I understand. So… you ready to head back out? We’re not actually scraping gum. So we can just sit and talk.”

“I’d love to just sit and talk with you.”

Ten minutes later, everyone was spread out, Syd more than anyone. I had no idea where she’d gone, but apparently she stormed out shortly after I did. I guess Jenny knew how to get under everyone’s skin that day. Said girl was sitting against a brick wall away from the bleachers, where the other two pairs of us were. Brad and Dina were hugged up on each other, whispering into each other’s ears and quietly laughing. Stan and I were on the edge of the bleachers, the boy stretched across the one on the first level, and I on the second. As he fiddled with his rubix cube, my index finger reached out and gently traced his facial features. I started off with his brow, careful of his wound on the edge. It was clearing up and that caused a smile to appear on my face. Next, I let my fingertip brush across his lashes and he furrowed his brows, trying to focus on his cube. My finger then glided down the bridge of his nose. I quietly laughed when his eyes comically crossed to look at my finger. With a giggle, Stan jutted his chin upwards to gently kiss my fingertip. “Stop distracting me.”

My hand lazily dropped to his hair as I whispered out an apology. Not too long afterwards, I heard a voice quietly call out Stan’s name, but he was too fixated on his toy. My eyes looked to Sydney, who was standing in the doorway, desperately trying to get the boy’s attention. When she called out to him again, he actually looked at her. Looking between the two of us, she frantically motioned for Stan to come outside. When he only raised a brow, she did it again. Letting out a sigh, he wordlessly handed me his cube before sitting up and following Syd out of the gym, closing the door behind him to allow them privacy. Puffing out a sigh, I began playing with the multicolored cube in my hands. I never was very good with rubix cubes, my patience always ran too thin to finish them. That time didn’t seem to be an exception, either, because minutes in, I set it down and rested my head down to hopefully sleep off the rest of detention.

As I began to doze off, I heard the double doors screech upon Sydney’s arrival. She anxiously walked past me over towards the other side of the gym, where Dina and Brad had moved to suck face. I heard her call out to her friend a few times before she loudly spoke, “Look, Dina, I need a tampon right now.”

“Just dig in my bag.”

“I… I do need you, but for… but for something else.” She stuttered out. And with that, the two exited the gym. Suspicious about what my friends were plotting without me, I slowly sat up from my lying position and sat normally on the bleacher, waiting for one of them to come back. Hearing footsteps approach me, I knew it either had to be Brad or Jenny, and I was praying to the stars it was the former. As unusual as it sounded. The bleacher moaned under Brad’s weight as he sat beside me.

“Hey, Zip,” He greeted with a smile. I side-eyed him for a second before turning my gaze to my shoes. Scoffing, he shifted his legs. “You’re ignoring me now? Oh, come on. We’re friends, Zip. Good friends.”

“We are not friends, Bradley,” I almost laughed. “You’re friends with Ricky and I want nothing to do with him, so… I guess you know where the two of us stand.”

“Okay, well… Regardless, as Ricky’s best friend, I can say for him that what he did was fucked up. Right?”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Right! But listen, we all make mistakes, Zip. Ricky really loves you, you know that, right? He would never do anything to hurt you.”

I was silent for a bit, only to prevent myself from decking Brad in the nose. “Well, he clearly didn’t love me enough. Not enough to respect my right to consent-”

“Zip-”

“And you know what, Brad?” I slowly stood to my feet. “I’ve had enough of you defending everything he does! You can tell Ricky to get lost and leave me the hell alone!”

Before he could utter another word, I marched straight through the double doors. Three figures stood ahead, and I was more than ready to push past them, but I recognized each of them. Halting in my tracks, I saw Dina, Syd and Stan all nervously staring at me. Confused, I put my weight on both my feet. “Uh… what’s going on?”

Dina was the first to answer. “We… need your help distracting the janitor to get his keys.”

“W-What? Why?”

“Well, Stan and Syd hooked up in the library and got it on camera-”

“You guys hooked up again?” I turned to my best friend, who quickly turned to Sydney. She frowned and stood up straighter.

“You told her?”

“S-She’s my best friend! She tells me when she has sex!”

Widening my eyes, I let out a scoff. “I had sex, I don’t have sex.”

“Well, whatever, can you do it?” Sydney changed the subject. I looked between the three in confusion.

“Okay, but why me?”

“Because you have boobs. Like, a nice size.”

“Uh-”

“And,” Dina cut in. “Because you’re a great actress. The best out of all of us.”

My lips quirked up into a small smile, Dina satisfied that she boosted my confidence enough for me to accept. Lucky for them, my locker was just across from the gym, so I unlocked it and pulled out a spare tee. ‘Can’t seduce anyone wearing that’, Dina told me.

Shortly after, Stan and I were in a corner as I changed my top. He was nervously staring down at his shoes as I pulled my hoodie off. “I didn’t want you to be the distraction. Are you sure you’ll be okay doing this?”

“I’m not seducing him, Stan,” I chucked my hoodie towards him. He looked up to catch it, but as soon as his eyes raked over my almost bare chest, they darted downwards again. “That’s just a back-up plan.”

“O-Oh, okay…” He nodded as I pulled my shirt on.

Minutes later, I entered the classroom Carl the Janitor had been cleaning. He looked up at me and nodded. “Hey, (Y/N).”

“Hi, Carl. Listen. So, I kinda snuck out of rehearsal earlier and I need to get back into the auditorium. But guess what? The door’s locked. I really don’t want Ms Turner to find me out. Do you think you could help me? Please?” I tapped my fingertips together as he sighed.

“You know I can get in trouble doing that…”

“I-I know, but it would mean so much to me. I promise I won’t get you caught.”

“Well, what about the back entrance? She never locks those doors.”

He was right. Clearing my throat, I looked to the side. “W-Well, she did today…”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion for what felt like forever before relenting, handing his ring of keys over. “Okay, just get them back to me in twenty minutes.”

“You’re the best, thank you.” I grinned and stepped out of the room. Swinging around the corner, I found Dina and Syd waiting for me. Upon my arrival, they both grinned. “Nothing wrong with asking politely, ladies. We got less than twenty.” I cheekily smiled, handing the keys over to Sydney. Dina chuckled and crossed her arms as I took my hoodie from Syd and pulled it back on.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“The plan is quite simple.” Stan’s voice appeared as he approached us, two microwavable burritos in his hands.

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

“First, we distract Whitaker with burritos. I’m gonna put these in the microwave and blast these bad boys up on high, and then…”

The explosion muffled by the closed door was enough to get Mr Whitaker rushing out of the teachers’ lounge. “What the hell- What the hell is goin’ on down there?! Jesus!”

“...Whitaker will hear it and come runnin’. When he takes off from the teachers’ lounge, the coast’ll be clear straight through to the principal’s office, and then we make our move.”

As the principal moved past the closet we were all hiding in, Stan slowly opened the door, giving the four of us the chance to run out. As Dina and I silently followed Whitaker, Stan and Syd headed towards his office, keys in the latter’s hands.

“Syd, you’re the key man… Key lady.”

“Wait, why am I the key lady?”

“Because you’re… good with your hands.”

“Ew.”

“Dina and (Y/N), you two are lookout. You keep eyes on Whitaker.”

I crouched down and peeked around the corner as Dina did the same right above me. Whitaker had just opened the door to the microwave, the smoke engulfing him as he coughed and fanned it away.

“The burrito bomb should keep him busy for awhile.”

The two of us watched in amusement as he grabbed the fire extinguisher from the fire emergency supplies and sprayed it into the closet.

“That man cannot resist a fire extinguisher, which will give us the time we need to get in. Burrito bombs are disgusting. Last time I set one off, my whole house smelled like bean farts.”

“True story.”

“Gross.”

Sooner than we expected, Whitaker took off from the crime scene in a hurried pace. Dina and I quickly rushed towards our friends, the girl waving her arms in the air as I readied the door to the closet for us.

“Anything goes wrong, lookout crew, you signal us… and everyone take cover.”

Once Stan and Syd noticed Dina, they scurried off down the hall to hide. I pulled Dina into the closet with me and silently closed the door as we crouched down.

“That is literally the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s fair. It’s totally fair. Can you think of a better one?”

…

“Our best hiding spot’s probably behind the trophy case. And we wait…”

A collective sigh of relief filled the closet as the savior ringing echoed through the halls.

“...for the smoke alarm. Which will buy us more time. Which we will need, because there are a shit-ton of keys. Like a metric shit-ton, it’s ridiculous.”

After our principal took off away from his office again, the closet door slowly creaked open as Dina and I watched Syd and Stan successfully enter the principal’s office.

“Once we’re in, we head straight for the security system in the closet. And that’s it!”

The smoke alarm cut off its insistent ringing within seconds. My heart thumped in my throat as Whitaker’s form stormed down the hallway, towards his office in angry strides. Thankfully, Syd and Stan ducked down before he caught sight of them. As soon as he passed us, I gently nudged Dina out of the closet. “Go create some big distraction that’ll lure him away,” I whispered under my breath. “I’ll keep him from the door.” I stood up straight as Dina nodded and silently hurried down the opposite end of the hall.

“Whatever you do, do not panic. Do not bail… or we are screwed.”

Whitaker was seconds from the door and I had yet to come up with a way to get him distracted again.

“Okay, but what happens if your plan goes to shit?”

Finding the key on his ring, he began jiggling it into the lock.

“It won’t.”

I stepped out of the closet, breathing labored in panic.

“But what if it does?”

When the lock sounded, I let out an ear-splitting scream that had Whitaker jumping three feet in the air. When his gaze settled on me, he marched my way, steam practically shooting from his ears. “(Y/L/N), what the hell is the matter with you?!”

“U-Uh- Uh, something happened down that way!” I blurted out, pointing down in Dina’s direction. His head followed my finger before it snapped back to me.

“Well?! What ha-”

A crash sounded.

“Improvise.”

The poor man shook his head in exhaustion. “I’m too goddamn old for this shit…” He whined before taking off down the hall, away from his office. Once the coast was clear, Syd and Stan peeked up, watching as I gave them a thumbs-up. They gratefully smiled my way before standing and finishing the job.

“And if all goes well, as it should, we grab the footage, our sexcapade remains private, and nobody gets expelled.”

My shoulders sagged as Sydney walked out of the office with Stan behind her, holding up the flashdrive in her hand.

“Let’s hope this shit works.”

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

It totally worked. After our brilliant scheme, the four of us sat in front of the lockers to rest, my form sandwiched between Stan and Dina. He kissed the flashdrive and let out a breath. “Oh, I thought we were screwed…”

“We were screwed, but holy shit, we did it.” Dina quietly laughed along with the rest of us.

“Thank you guys,” Sydney smiled, the three of us turning to her. “Seriously.” She chuckled as I reached my hand over to Stan’s pocket. Catching onto what I was doing, he fished his case out himself.

“Wonderful idea, Nugget,” He pecked the back of my hand with his lips before I could move it away and slid a joint from his case. “Any takers?”

“You’re not serious.” Dina frowned as Stan took out his lighter. He nodded to her with furrowed brows.

“He is.” I grinned fondly at my best friend as he lit up the end of his joint and inhaled the smoke before handing it over to me. I happily accepted it and took a hit as Dina glanced around us, hoping no adults were around to witness the scandalous act. She choked out a laugh when Sydney accepted the joint from me.

“Since when do you smoke weed?”

Sydney slyly smiled and stretched the smoke over to her, my own hand taking it to give her better access. “Oh, come on, Dina. Everyone’s doing it. Don’t you wanna be cool like us?” We all giggled and watched as Dina hesitantly took a hit from the joint. Her own snorting encouraged our laughter to increase, the four of us blissfully unaware of what lay ahead of us just in the locker room down the hall.

We sat in that hallway for the next half hour, talking about everything and nothing as our time of release approached closer. When the joint was finished, we entered the gym to enjoy our fading highs in peace. Dina headed over to the bleachers, and Stan and I sat on the bench beside the locker room, as Sydney headed inside to use the bathroom. The two of us sat in a comfortable silence as he shifted the colorful columns of his cube. I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes, and soon after, I felt his head rest against mine. “So… are you gonna need a ride home?” He whispered.

“No. Jake is picking me up.”

“That’s good, that’s good. Um… now do you wanna talk about how you’re doing? I know that, like, we’re still in school and we’re not entirely alone, but I just wanted to see how you were after you had to-”

“I’m doing better,” I interrupted his rambling. “Thank you.”

His hands froze their fiddling before one shyly crept close to mine. I felt his fingers graze my thigh as he interlocked our fingers in a tight hold. “Of course, Nugget.” He muttered right as Dina walked to the door to the locker room, giving me a smirk before walking inside. Stan then held up his rubix cube and chuckled. “Wanna try and solve it together?”

“Oh, my god, yes.” I laughed. And with that, we were using our free hands to turn and shift the cube around, hushed laughter filling the gymnasium as we told each other ‘no, not that way’, ‘turn the blue one’, and ‘yeah, yeah, that one’ for the next minute and a half of peace. Once our time was up, the door to the locker room slammed open and a teary-eyed Dina stormed out, a frantic Brad behind her.

“Babe, wait, please. Syd’s lying, I swear to god! Please! She’s lying!” As Dina walked out of the gym, Whitaker walked in, watching her go. “You’re not seriously breaking up with me right now!”

“Hey! Which one of you punks eats burritos?” Our principal shouted, Stan and I stifling our laughter in each other’s hair and shoulder. “Alright, I don’t know what the hell went on tonight, but I wanna see everyone in my office first thing in the morning!” He gave us one last look before exiting again. As soon as he was gone, Brad turned to Syd with a clenched jaw.

“I offered you a truce, and you fucked it up. This is on you. You remember that.” He pointed at her before angrily stomping out. Stan and I detangled ourselves from each other as Jenny walked out of the locker room with crossed arms.

“Ah, another day in paradise,” She looked between the three of us as her smile faded. “So, you guys wanna get wasted?”

I scoffed. “Fuck off, Jenny.”

Waving Stan and Syd goodbye minutes later, I joined Jacob in his car. He smiled over at me as I clipped my seatbelt on over myself. “So? How boring was it?”

“Oh, a total fucking snoozefest.” I rolled my eyes, my cousin chuckling and pulling off towards our home. Halfway through the car ride, I heard him turn down his music and sigh.

“Bug, what’s going on with you?”

“Huh?” I turned to him with raised brows.

“You’re… You’re different. You’re quiet, you skip dinner sometimes, you’re sleeping in. You never do that, especially the quiet part. Jesus, you’re so loud-”

“Okay, asshole, I get it!” I laughed quietly before going completely silent again. Not realizing I proved his point, I jumped when he poked my arm.

“See? Something’s wrong with you. What is it? Is it Ricky?”

“I-” I don’t know why I wanted to keep the whole situation a secret. Things like this needed to come into light and Ricky deserved to be exposed. Sensing my hesitancy, Jacob nodded.

“There we go. What did he do this time? Did he forget an anniversary? No? Did he… cheat?” Silence. “Did he do worse?” My eyes darted away. “(Y/N), did he do worse…?”

“I don’t know if I should say, Jake-”

“You absolutely should say it, (Y/N). Did he hit you?”

“No.”

“No? Did he… you know, touch you?” His tone softened as tears welled up in my eyes. “Bug, what happened…?”

“H-He raped me…” I cried and covered my face. “I got drunk on his birthday and he took advantage of it. A-And then he lied and said we were both drunk. B-But everyone else said he wasn’t even drunk.”

A beat of silence passed before the roar of the engine slid in pitch. I looked up at the houses and street signs that flew past us in a blur. “J-Jake, what are you doing?!”

“We’re gonna pay Ricky a visit.”

Before I knew it, we were in front of Ricky’s house. Jacob silently released himself from his restraint and exited the car. I sunk down in my own seat as I watched Ricky walk out of his home and towards his car. Upon seeing Jacob, he happily waved, but his smile vanished when Jacob decked him in the face so hard he fell to the ground. My breathing sped up as I jumped out of the car, speeding over to the two. “Jake! Stop!” I screamed as he straddled Ricky, landing punch after punch on his face. Ricky cried out and tried to push him off, but it was no use. Jacob was so much stronger than him. I knew pulling on him and screaming at him would do nothing, so I looked up and turned all around, watching as some neighbors peeked out their windows and front doors to watch the scene unfold. When I heard a crunch, I whipped back towards them and almost hurled at the bloodied mess that was Ricky’s face. “Jake, come on!” I screamed and pulled him off.

Stumbling to his feet, Jacob grabbed Ricky by his collar and lifted him close. “I don’t ever wanna see you near her. I don’t wanna hear that you spoke to her, I don’t even wanna know that you looked at her,” He growled, Ricky frantically nodding. “Don’t ever associate yourself with my sister ever again or I will make sure your eyes are swollen shut next time. Got it? Got it?!”

“Yes.” Ricky wheezed out before he was dropped to the ground.

“We’re going home, Jake! Jake, let’s fucking go home!” I screamed and ran to his car, getting in the driver seat. Chest heaving, he strode back over to the car and got in the passenger seat, sighing heavily as I drove away, leaving behind a groaning Ricky. I hadn’t even noticed his bloodied and bruised knuckles until I parked the car. Like a worried mother, I helped him out and over to the front porch.

“Hey, lovely!” I heard Stan call out. Looking up, I saw that he and Syd were just about to enter his house. “Do you wanna-”

I fished out my keys and hurriedly unlocked the door, pushing my cousin inside and shutting the door behind us. After ordering him into the bathroom, I found some bandages and hydrogen peroxide and joined him inside. The next few minutes were spent in silence, save for the soft hisses that escaped him when I dabbed the chemical onto his cuts. As I wrapped his hands, I felt his eyes on me. “(Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

“If he tries anything ever again, tell me immediately.”

“I know.”

“I’m serious,” He ducked his head down to meet my eyes, his own shining with unshed tears. “I promise you, he won’t lay a finger on you as long as I’m around.”

Setting down the blood-covered cotton ball, I nodded and allowed my lip to quiver.

“I know.”

—————————————

Taglist: @nate-isnt-great @sapphicsyn @stqnley @lonely-kermit @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow

[dukeofonions]

The Problem With Asides

Before I get into anything I want to clarify that this is not going to be a criticism of the two Asides episodes we’ve gotten so far. This is a critique of the concept of Sanders Asides as a separate series from the original Sanders Sides. A second note I want to make is that this is, just as all my other posts are, a personal opinion. This is not meant to be an attack on anyone, just a general criticism from a confused writer and viewer of the show. 

And final disclaimer: A lot of what I’m going to say is based on information that I no longer have available. It’ll mostly be me recalling things I heard and if I at any point get something wrong please feel free to let me know. 

That being said, let’s get into this, shall we? 

(Fair warning this post is very long hence why I’ve divided it into parts so feel free to read then come back as you wish)

Part One: The Concept of Asides

Some time ago last year, I believe shortly after Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts came out, was when the idea for Sanders Asides was first announced. The basic concept of it being shorter, more lighthearted videos focusing on the Sides outside of the main storyline. This format would allow them to give us more Sides content in between the long waits for the main series since those episodes were beginning to take more time to produce. 

Of course, everyone was eager for more Sides, so the majority of people were excited. Not only that but due to the main series tackling heavier themes, the episodes were becoming more angsty with less time for the characters to just relax and goof off with each other. The idea of having episodes reminiscent of the low stakes, sillier, happier content of season one was a welcome break from the more complex episodes and would be a nice return to form for the series. 

We were also informed that these episodes would be much simpler than their main series counterparts and wouldn’t disrupt the work being done on Sanders Sides, which meant we didn’t have to worry about long gaps between the main story episodes, right? 

(Another disclaimer: I am perfectly aware of the main reason why we were not given as much content last year and am not blaming Thomas or the team for doing what was necessary to keep themselves safe and hope they continue to do so as this continues into the new year)

Jump to November 22, 2019, where we got our first official episode of Sanders Asides, roughly five months after DWIT came out. Which, for this fandom, was record time to get more content and I was pleasantly surprised by how quickly they were able to get this out. Though at the same time, I wondered why it took five months to make what was meant to be a short, simple episode. 

So imagine my surprise when I went to watch the episode and saw it was nearly 20 minutes long. Which, okay, isn’t that bad when you compare it to the lengths of the more recent Sanders Sides episodes. But at the time, I was under the impression that the Asides would be, well, much shorter. The longest I expected would be maybe 15 minutes, but you know what? It’s the first episode and it has been a while since we’ve had Sides content, so maybe they wanted to give us a little extra due to the long wait. 

I started the episode and at first, I was overjoyed when I saw the first shot of all the Sides sitting in the living room in their onesies about to have a movie night. This was exactly what I’d been hoping to see from this series! It’s pretty much a staple thing in the fandom for the Sides to have movie nights together, and now it was happening in canon! 

At the moment, I had high hopes for this series and was filled with joy. 

Then that hope and joy were immediately crushed when I realized this was yet just another Virgil-centric angst episode. In fact, this entire episode was, well, exactly like a regular Sanders Sides episode. Sure, there were some jokes here and there, but the tone of the episode was no lighter than the last Sanders Sides episode. If anything DWIT felt lighter in comparison to this one. 

Which leads me to ask, what the heck happened? 

Part Two: Literally the Same Show

At this point in time, we’ve only had two episodes of Asides. Usually, I try to hold off my judgment of a series until I’ve had at least one other episode to see if my original criticisms still stand. 

To be fair, I did think Flirting With Social Anxiety was a step in the right direction. More comedy, a lighter tone, yes. Perfect. But again, just like with Are There Healthy Distractions? This episode quickly dove right back into the angst pool, and just like ATHD it was a pretty long episode, clocking in at almost 25 minutes. 

Not only that but again, both FWSA and ATHD don’t feel any different from the episodes we’ve been getting in Sanders Sides. 

1. They’re just as angsty.

2. Roughly the same length as Sanders Sides episodes.

3. Take about just as long to produce.

4. Contain a lesson to be learned. 

Which, okay, you can have lessons in lighter shows too, but we’re already getting that in Sanders Sides and Sanders Asides was described as, well, being less plot heavy. Yet so far both episodes are still tied in with the main plot. 

ATHD deals with the aftermath of DWIT, not directly but it’s pretty obvious that the whole thing with Virgil’s reveal at the end of that episode is being addressed in the background. Which, kind of takes away the impact of that ending, but I’ll get to that later. 

Then FWSA takes place after Putting Others First and again, is dealing with things from that episode in the background. Again though, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It makes sense to see the characters dealing with things from past events.

So why is it a problem here? Because, again, Sanders Asides is meant to be a separate series, and all the subtext brought on from the episodes in Sanders Sides makes the plots in these two episodes confusing. 

For example, I was perplexed during my first watch of FWSA because I couldn’t understand why the focus of the conflict was lying. I didn’t understand why Virgil and Roman came to the conclusion that Thomas’ reason for being unable to approach Nico was because he was lying to himself, when both the title of the episode and what we were shown points more to, well, social anxiety being the problem. 

(Quick note: One could argue that this was done purposefully to have Virgil putting the blame on Janus since he doesn’t like him and wouldn’t want to admit that he was the one responsible, but this series has had a bad habit of favoring Virgil in the past so until we get more answers I’m gonna leave this on the backburner) 

It didn’t help that I had no idea when this episode was meant to take place in the timeline, and I originally thought it could take place a bit after season two since Roman and Virgil seemed to be doing better, but more on them later.

All of this bugged me until I found out that FWSA takes place after POF, and after watching the live stream that followed and getting some more context, the lying thing made a bit more sense, but the fact that I was as confused as I was just caused more frustration to build up. And I wasn’t the only one who got thrown off by the “Lying is wrong” message of FWSA so I had to ask again, why was this episode a Sanders Asides when apparently, you need information from the last Sanders Sides episode in order to understand it?

So you’re telling me, that the second episode in what is supposed to be a separate series that isn’t meant to be a part of the main plot, is now integral to the plot of the main story you’re telling in what is, as you have said, a separate show? How does that make any sense? 

Okay, one could argue that Thomas getting a love interest doesn’t really fit with the current storyline that’s going on in Sanders Sides, and that is a fair point. The problem with that is, FWSA takes place right after Putting Others First. 

You all remember what happened at the end of that episode, right?

Part Three: Intrusive Plots

At this point we’ve all become rather accustomed to the long waits in between videos, it’s nothing new to us, and for the most part they haven’t done anything to harm the current plot of Sanders Sides. Sure, the length of time between videos can cause people to lose interest, but for the most part the tone of the last three episodes of Sanders Sides hasn’t differed much and the story flow is still going along smoothly. 

Let’s start with Selfishness vs Selflessness, which is the episode that sets up the big climax for season two. It’s still got its jokes and funny moments, but the overall tone is far more serious than previous episodes have been. This carries on into DWIT where Thomas has been so stressed out lately that he’s begun to have trouble with his intrusive thoughts. 

Virgil even gives a pretty good summary of Thomas’ current mental state: “He recently realized he’s a bigger liar than he thought he was, he doesn’t understand himself, he’s committed to skipping a big callback, and he’s sleep-deprived. So yeah, he feels like a piece of dirt who has no control over his life.”

And all that was a direct result of the ending of SVS, despite DWIT not being the direct follow up to that episode the two are still intertwined. Remember that for later.

DWIT ends with the long awaited reveal of Virgil having been a “Dark Side.” Even though the majority of the fandom had figured it out by as early as Can Lying Be Good? That didn’t take away from the emotional gut punch that this scene was and it’s one of my favorite moments from the series. I may have to make a whole post breaking that scene down but what matters is that this scene was a turning point for Virgil’s character.

We’ve seen him trying to hide the truth from Thomas ever since Janus and Remus started popping up, and there were close calls with both of them nearly revealing it themselves and continuously dropping hints to Thomas. Only for Virgil to admit it to Thomas himself, and leave before Thomas can even say a word. 

We don’t know for sure how Thomas is feeling in this moment, but it’s clear he’s been shaken by this. He doesn’t really have a lot of time to process it before he remembers to acknowledge the audience and close out the video. 

This comes up again once we finally get to the monster of an episode that is POF, the follow up to SVS that everyone had been waiting over a year for. Right away we see that Patton and Roman will be at the forefront of this discussion with Logan popping up every now and then, but who doesn’t show up in this episode despite having played a role in SVS? 

Virgil. 

He’s nowhere to be seen and his absence is definitely felt. Why wouldn’t he be part of this discussion? He was there in SVS and had a lot to say on the matter, he was even part of the decision to choose the wedding over the callback! So why wasn’t he there? 

Well, just look at the ending of DWIT and there’s your answer. Of course he isn’t about to show his face after that. Not when Thomas is already under so much stress already and he isn’t sure how Thomas will react to seeing him-

*insert random voice whispering off to the side*

 Wait, Virgil has seen Thomas since DWIT? When? 

*whispers continue*

Oh, right, they interacted in Sanders Asides. How did that go again? 

*whispers explain*

Huh? Thomas said he’s cool with Virgil despite revealing that he’s been hiding something from him this whole time? That “something” being the fact that Virgil was once considered part of the others that were currently making Thomas’ life miserable?

*whispers confirm*

Really? They’re both okay with each other now? Well, good for them. 

So wait, then why didn’t Virgil show up in POF? He was there during the first discussion and honestly he’d have more of a reason to show up than Logan who wasn’t really present at all in SVS. 

*whispers explain* 

He just wasn’t need there? Hm, alright. Guess that makes sense… 

Well okay, Virgil and Thomas are on good terms once POF rolls around, Virgil isn’t present during the conversation because he isn’t needed and I suppose his presence would make things worse. Especially once Janus revealed himself, he wouldn’t allow him to get a word in. Even though Janus could probably silence him but I digress. 

Fast forward towards the ending of POF, remember when I said to remember how SVS and DWIT were connected? Well DWIT is just as important to POF, acting as a bit of bridge between to the two episodes. 

Janus brings up Remus (both directly and indirectly) twice in this episode.

First here:

 Notice how Roman’s breakdown is already being foreshadowed here, the camera focusing on him while “Logan” says this isn’t an accident. 

The second time Remus is brought up is at the very end after Janus has revealed his name:

“Oh, Roman thank God you don’t have a mustache. Otherwise between you and Remus, I wouldn’t know who the evil twin is.” 

(No I am not posting screenshots of this scene I already got emotional over the last one)

As we saw at the end of DWIT, Roman does not have a good relationship with is brother. So much so that when Thomas refers to Remus as such, Roman creates a different analogy that compares Remus to a mirror, reflecting everything Roman doesn’t want to be. 

Roman desperately wants to distance himself from Remus, not wanting anything to do with him. We’ve only gotten a glimpse of just how far this loathing goes, and part of that comes from Roman finally breaking down after being told by Janus that if it wasn’t for a mustache there’d be no difference between him and Remus.

This shook Roman more than anything else in the show has so far, moreso than him being the one to decide that Thomas should give up the callback. He was the one that pushed Thomas to make that decision, believing it was the noble thing to do, only for it to only make Thomas feel worse and then be told by Janus that his “noble sacrifice” was all for nothing. 

Janus, the one who had been supporting Roman throughout SVS, buttering him up and encouraging him to go after his dream, told him that his sacrifice was worthless. Then to top it all off Janus admits what he did and brushes it off as a joke. He doesn’t apologize to Roman, leaving him in the dust, then when Roman responds by laughing at his name he’s shot down even lower. 

And when he looks to Thomas and Patton for help, for answers, anything.

They stay silent.

Patton tries to reassure him, telling Roman that they love him, but he doesn’t believe it. He sinks out, and that’s the last we see of him.

Selfishness vs Selflessness, Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts, and Putting Others First are three of the biggest (and dare I say most important) episodes in the series. The three almost act like a trilogy, with POF leading to something bigger, the season finale. Which will be culmination of all three of these episodes. 

We’ll be seeing Virgil’s reaction to Janus having been accepted by Patton and facing his own past as a “Dark Side.” Then we’ll find out what has become of Roman after he disappeared at the end of POF, and how it now affects his relationship with Thomas.

*whispers return and begin to whisper*

I’m sorry what?

*whispers repeat*

Virgil already knows about Janus getting somewhat accepted? Well okay I guess he would, wish we could have seen his reaction to that but oh well, no big deal. At least we got the Roman and Thomas confrontation to look forward to. 

*whispers whisper*

Roman has already interacted with Thomas since POF? When?!

*whisper* 

In FWSA? Oh yeah, how did that go again? It was super awkward right? Since Roman doesn’t really trust that Thomas loves or values him?

*whisperly whisper*

They get along just fine as if nothing happened? 

*whispersty*

It looks like he might still be upset with him since he’s being a bit passive aggressive? 

*whisper* 

Can’t really tell because the three are too busy trying to talk to a cute guy at the mall? 

Okay, I guess that all makes sense… 

Looks like Roman and Virgil still aren’t on the best terms with Thomas but are able to push that aside to help him talk to this handsome stranger, and hey, it worked! Thomas now has a boyfriend! Just look at Roman and Virgil at the end, they’re both so happy with Thomas! 

Looks like now they can focus on this new chapter in their life and leave the events of POF behind them. I mean, now that Roman and Virgil seem pretty cool with Thomas it would just feel weird to suddenly have them angry with him again, wouldn’t it?

Part Four: The Problem

Sanders Asides was originally described as being a series separate from the main storyline of Sanders Sides. Promising us shorter, less complicated episodes to give us a little something in between the longer, heavier episodes in Sanders Sides. This was a great idea that ended up falling apart the moment it began. 

When I was going through SVS, DWIT, and POF I mentioned that the three of them felt like a trilogy. All three of them link together to tell one bigger story, and on their own they get the job done. They set up the season finale perfectly to the point where you have an idea of what to expect and what to look forward to. 

The main things being the aftermath of Virgil’s reveal and Roman’s breakdown, which would most likely cultivate in them teaming up against Janus. This would also involve Virgil coming to terms with his past and Roman having to face Remus. 

Of course, none of this has been officially confirmed, but given everything we’ve seen up to this point it just makes sense. 

The story for season two is nearly complete, all we’re missing is the conclusion. 

Then Sanders Asides showed up and threw everything off course. What was supposed to be its own thing crept into a story that was already (for all we knew) set up and being put into place. 

We were told that the Asides wouldn’t do anything to disrupt the flow of Sanders Sides, yet it’s been confirmed that there will be one or two more episodes of Asides before we get the season finale. 

Why? Why are these episodes necessary when everything was set to move forward after POF? If these episodes are that important that they absolutely have to be made before the finale then why are they simply not part of the main series? 

You could say “Well they’re not directly tied to the main plot, that’s why.” But need I remind you that Asides as a concept was just intriduced after DWIT came out? These episodes were written specifcally for Asides, which unless I’m wrong means that they were just added into the main story with no planning whatsoever. 

FWSA honestly feels like it should have been the start of season three, something that should have waited to be introduced after season two wrapped up because it’s just too much. 

We already have so much to unpack from SVS, DWIT, and POF now we also have a new love interest on top of that? 

Virgil and Thomas’ resolution doesn’t even feel all that special because it wasn’t talked about directly between them. Thomas was indirectly letting Virgil know they were still okay, so what does that leave for us? All that build up about Virgil being a “Dark Side” only for it to be brushed over like it was nothing, and this happened in an Asides episode, not even in the main series. 

It also makes Virgil’s absence in POF confusing when they had already set up the perfect reason for him to be absent in DWIT, but according to the first episode of ATHD Virgil and Thomas are okay with each other. Sure, Virgil being there might have made things worse but at that point everyone was making things worse. 

We no longer have a confrontation between Thomas and Roman to look forward to because in FWSA we see them interacting as normal. Even the passive agressiveness isn’t anything new to Roman and really, it all just sounds super petty which he had been known to behave like that even when nothing is seriously wrong. Not only that Roman is overjoyed at the end, having finally gotten something he desperately wanted, the happy ending he deserved.

All that’s left for him is to fave his feelings towards Remus, but what would even happen there?

The problem with Asides isn’t the quality of the episodes, FWSA is actually one of my favorite episodes. The problem with Asides is that the team is taking what should have been something small and turning it into a far too elaborate for what its original purpose was: To give us more lighthearted content to enjoy in between the waits for the heavier episodes.

Instead it just feels like they’re adding onto something that really didn’t need adding on to, creating more work for themselves when it just isn’t necessary, and that worries me.

Final Thoughts

Honestly, it’s hard for me to make all these judgments when no one has any idea what the finale is going to be like. And usually, the team is able to excede my expectations and create something amazing. 

But with all these new Asides episodes that feel like they’re just being crammed in at the last second, it makes me wonder how the rest of the series will go if they continue down this road. 

Season two started September 1st, 2017, it is now January 3rd, 2021. Throughout season two the production of episodes became more elaborate, and there have been complications that arose from trying to make these videos as a result that sent production screeching to a halt. And on top of that, these Sanders Asides have been added to create even more work for Thomas and the team.

I don’t understand why they’d do this to themselves when it’s already become more difficult than ever to make videos in general, not just Sanders Sides. 

We were offered something simple that would have satisfied everyone during the difficult times, only to be given something that honestly, wasn’t even needed. I do appreciate Thomas trying to get us more content, but I don’t think he or the team realizes just how content we’d all be with just a five minute video of the characters we love just doing something as simple as hanging out and having fun, especially with how dark things have become all around us. 

We don’t always have to be watching these characters struggle, sometimes we just need to see them be genuinely happy.

(Thanks to everyone who took time to read this monster of a post, I did not mean for it to get this long but it’s been dwelling on my mind for a while and I wanted to make sure I got out everything I wanted to say. Again, this is all just a personal opinions and you are not obligated to agree with me. If you have an objecting opinion I would not mind hearing it but please keep any discussions civil.)

[sserpente]

A/N: Let us kick off autumn season with everyone’s favourite pirate! This Imagine is based on requests from @manymanycupsoftea and two anons. This is probably not entirely historically accurate or more than a fluffy piece of even more fluff but… Have fun! 🎃😋

Words: 1913 Warnings: fluff, anxiety (fear of thunderstorms)

The first thunder ripped you from your light sleep, growling in the grey sky. It was so loud you could feel it vibrating in your chest. Sweating, you sat up, your limbs shaking.

One of the more considerate crew members had offered you a hanging mat but you had opted to build yourself a little nest behind some heavy wooden boxes full of ammunition and cannon balls instead, on top of a pile of fishing nets. It was surprisingly comfortable but most of all, it was safer.

It was for the first time now that you regretted your decision. Thunderstorms did not usually scare you this much—but on a ship, in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight… your anxiety stirred like a rousing lion ready to devour you.

You whimpered, unable to stop the pitiful sounds escaping your lips as you curled up in the corner. You had long gotten used to the way the ship kept rocking on the strong waves of the sea—but today, it made you sick to the core. The Captain had promised land soon, if anything to stock up on the crew’s rum supplies. If you were not mistaken, you were sailing somewhere on the Atlantic Ocean. Jack had told you about an island where the British settled and harboured many treasures and expensive alcohol. He had only been once, in his drunken state, however, barely remembered any of the experience.

Another thunder. You flinched once more, pressing your forehead against your knees until you felt a stinging pain spreading on your skin but only pulled away to look up with tear-stricken eyes when you heard a barrel being knocked over, and the Captain cursing under his breath.

Closing your mouth shut, you sank against the wood, wishing you were a mouse. Unlucky for you, he noticed you regardless.

“You alright there, missy?” He leaned over one of the boxes, his dreads hanging down and making the beads woven into them clatter.

“No. Yes. Go away!”

Jack pouted. “That was… an unhelpful answer.”

“I’m just sea-sick.” You choked out, unwilling to meet his brown eyes. They were, so you had to admit, far too captivating.

“In which case you should hop on deck and not cower in the dark.” On deck. That would be even worse. And in this weather… what was he thinking? Probably nothing at all, given the amount of alcohol on the Black Pearl.

“H-How… how close are we to land?”

“’Bout half a day’s journey if the storm doesn’t blow us off course.” Jack leaned in even closer. You could smell him now. A wondrously intriguing mixture of rum, a little bit of sweat and the tangy soap he had stolen from a British mercenary last week—and strangely… having the infamous pirate so close to you calmed you down. A third thunder echoed through the endless sky above the ship, so loud this time even the sleeping crew stirred a little in its slumber. A scream escaped your lips before you were unable to stop it.

Captain Jack Sparrow was many things but he was certainly not stupid—and he did not quite manage to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face when he said, “You’re afraid of the storm?” It was not a question; and even though you felt the urge to slap him for mocking you for your anxieties, what he did instead startled you to the core.

He reached out for you, offering you his hand. Utterly confused, you stared at it, counting the many precious rings on his fingers and wondering what had caused the long scar right above his knuckles. A sword, perhaps?

He was a pirate. Pirates should not behave this way. You had not expected a life where you were being respected by your comrades when you joined this ship for no other reason than to escape the social conventions of your own family, to flee having to bend to rules you fundamentally disagreed with. Rules like forced marriages for the sake of society and reputation. Ugh.

And now here he was, taking your hand into his, pulling you off the ground and leading you over to one of the hanging mats. You stopped dead in your tracks when you realised what his destination was.

“I am not going to sleep in a hanging mat with you!”

Jack’s upper lip twitched slightly. “I wasn’t gonna sleep, I was gonna drink.” He said matter-of-factly, pointing to the bottle of rum on another wooden box next to the hanging mat as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Jack let go off your hand and made himself comfortable.

You presumed you had two options now. You could either jump in at the deep end and join him or you could return to your little nest, letting your anxiety get the better of you. The next thunder made you decide quickly. Before you could change your mind, you climbed up to him, realising only when it was too late that this hanging mat did not provide enough space for two people. You ended up using him both as your pillow and your mattress and Jack had the audacity to groan and then chuckle as he took a greedy sip from his rum.

“Sorry. This isn’t going to work, I’ll…”

“I’m not complaining about havin’ a beautiful woman sleeping on me, missy.” He cut you off.

“I won’t sleep. I’ll just… wait until this stupid storm is over.” You retorted, ignoring vehemently how the pirate had just called you beautiful and made his comment sound ambiguous. It was oddly flattering.

And then there it was again, his intoxicating smell, the alcohol more prominent now that he was sipping on his rum. You almost smiled to yourself. What would your mother say if she knew you were currently resting on top of a fearsome pirate who had more or less just non-verbally promised to protect you from a storm? This was more than your husband-to-be ever could have done for you.

Against all conviction, you fell asleep.

-

The next morning the crisp October air was fresh, as if cleansed by all the rain that had poured into the ocean and on deck of the Black Pearl overnight. The dark and threatening storm clouds had gone, the sun rising on the horizon. Jack had been right. There was land in sight—and the haven was busy, full of merchants and traders wearing… exceptionally strange clothes, their carriages full of pumpkins.

A frown decorated your forehead. Pumpkins? It could not be… had you been sailing for so long now?

“It’s Halloween.” You whispered—both euphoria and grief washing over you all at the same time. As a child, you had loved Halloween. Your father had brought Turkish Delight all the way from Eastern Europe to be eaten and you had been allowed to dress up as a fierce pirate girl with a wooden sword.

Jack leaned over, his lips slightly parted in an irritated manner. You shivered when his hot breath brushed against your ear.

“Uh… do you know why they’re all dressed like that?”

“They are wearing costumes.” You responded, smiling faintly at the memory. Jack looked at you as if you had grown two heads, eliciting a giggle from you. You didn’t know why but somehow… you kept growing to like the cocky pirate.

“It is an annual celebration to scare away nasty spirits. So this might be the one day of the year you will not look conspicuous being dressed like… well, a pirate.” You concluded, your voice more confident now. Perhaps it was not so bad after all. Jack had shown you nothing but kindness so far. “I wish I had a costume.”

“That can be arranged. Master Gibbs!” He called out, without ever taking his eyes off of you.

“Aye, Captain?”

“You’re in charge! I’m takin’ this lovely lady out for a drink!”

“Aye, Captain.” Gibbs repeated, raising his eyebrows just a little at being left with all the work while Jack was amusing himself with a woman. Heavens, what were you thinking? He was a pirate. You would not be amusing yourself with him… like that.

“Why?” You asked, as soon as you had followed him across the wooden boarding ramp and past a few merchants offering you fresh and big pumpkins. It was almost short of a miracle Jack’s ship did not attract any attention—but then again, this island was different—and it was Halloween.

“’Cause I’m thirsty.” He replied.

“You’re always thirsty. I mean, why are you taking me with you?”

“Cheer up, luv.” Love? Did he just call you love? It did in fact distract you so much you did not realise he never bothered to answer your question. “They serve the best rum here! But don’t tell that me mates on Tortuga. Ah, wait.” He stopped dead in his tracks and spun around, the sudden movement having you knock straight into him. He chuckled when you blinked.

You were standing in midst of a rather busy alley now. Market stands and laundrette services caught your attention, across the dusty ground a few chicken ran for their lives, being chased by a butcher with bloodstains on his white apron.

Unceremoniously and without any shame, Jack plucked a surprisingly well-made suit from a nearby clothesline. It was a British sailor’s uniform.

“You wanted to dress up?” He grinned, his golden teeth glinting in the rising morning sun.

“As a British sailor?” You asked, reaching for the appertaining hat but unable to stop yourself from reciprocating his grin in the process.

“As a freebooter!” He protested as he took the hat from your hand and put it on your head. Heavens, could this get any more bizarre?

Apparently it could, for about ten minutes later you found yourself sitting in a dimly lit tavern in a stolen costume, sipping, for the first time in your life, on a mug filled to the brim with rum. Jack had already half-emptied his while you were struggling not to end up completely drunk after only two sips.

If all this wasn’t strange enough already, you were the only woman in here—a circumstance which the other men, pirates or whatever they might have been, did not fail to notice. And when one of them gathered up his courage to approach you in a both eager and suspicious manner, the infamous pirate Captain simply slipped an arm around you, pulling you against his strong body and hence, scaring the stranger away.

Rum, sweat, tangy soap… you could get used to this.

“Jack? Thank you.” You blurted out before you could stop yourself. To say he was startled did not quite capture it.

“What for?”

“Everything. I think… I think you’re a good man.”

He frowned, hesitating. “I’m a pirate.”

“Yes, you are. But you have a good heart. You could have left me behind laughing at me when I begged you for shelter on your ship upon fleeing from my family. You didn’t… and now this is more than I could have ever imagined.”

“You’re livin’ a pirate’s life now, luv.” Love. There it was again. Smirking smugly, he raised his mug. “Take what you can.”

You laughed, more men turning their heads your way—right now, with Jack by your side, you couldn’t care less. “And give nothing back!” You clinked your glasses and drank. “Oh, and Happy Halloween!”

-

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! Caffeine is essential as a writer, I guess. And red wine. A lot of red wine. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[astheroid]

A Friend’s Confession

Randomly generated stories: in which Honi attempts to cure her writer’s block with a random word generator and character wheel.

Plot words: escape, platform, negotiation, trivial, public

Character: Oikawa Tooru

Genre: Fluff (enemies to kind-of lovers)

Word count (not including texts): 2,420

You sighed, head down on your desk. School was a nightmare, and there was a dull throb forming in between your eyes. The asshole behind you wasn’t helping, either.

“Y/N! Y/N, hey.”

You buried your head further into your arms. Luckily, your teacher was too busy playing Candy Crush at his desk to pay attention, so you could get away with slacking off. As of right now, you attempted to escape the hellhole that is 7th period social studies.

“Y/N, I’m being serious. Please.” You lifted your head to glare at the boy behind you.

“Not the right time, Trashykawa.” He grinned.

“When is the right time, considering you’ve told me that every single day since our first year?”

“Never.” You were back to resting your head on your desk, too tired to deal with him.

“Like actually. I talk to one of your friends once and you’re dead-set on hating me.” He said, tapping your desk with his pencil.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re an ass.” He let out a soft huff and you swear you can hear his frown.

“That’s not very nice.”

“Mhm, I don’t care. Please shut up.” His chair creaked.

“Fine.”

You were rudely awoken by the shrill screaming of the school bell. As you sluggishly zipped up your backpack, shoving your half-finished notes into your binder, you felt an irritating presence loom over your shoulder.

“My day’s been shitty already, I don’t need you bothering me right now.” His shadow wilted a bit.

“Kind of rude, don’t you think?” He replied snarkily. “I’m just trying to talk to you.”

“Why do you need to talk to me?” You were packed and ready to go, but Oikawa was blocking your way.

“I want you to watch our practice. The Aoba Johsai Volleyball Club hasn’t had enough spectators recently.” He grinned. You scoffed.

“Yeah, no. Now get out of my way.” He shook his head. After a few seconds of wondering whether you should punch him or not, you decided to shove him out of the way and continue walking. Right before you could, however, he sighed.

“Look, I really need you to be there. It’s important.” You grimaced.

“Why? I don’t want to watch sweaty man-children hitting a ball back and forth.”

He snorted. “I don’t need to tell you.”

“Ok, then I’m not going.” You tried to side-step him, but he blocked your path once again. You pushed your hair behind your ear with a frustrated sigh.

“Let’s make a deal. Have a negotiation, if you will.” You raised your eyebrows as he continued speaking. “Someone on the team likes you, and I-” he ran a hand through his hair, “am the one assigned to be their wingman. Come to this practice and I’ll tell you who afterwards.”

You considered it. “Are you sure they like me?”

He held up a peace sign. “I wouldn’t be here if they didn’t.”

You shook your head lightly. “Fine. Fine, I’ll go with you.”

He beamed. “Great! You won’t regret it.”

Following him out the door, you grumbled “Of course I won’t…”

As soon as you entered the gym, Oikawa pulled a flustered Iwaizumi to the side and whispered something in his ear. Iwaizumi nodded and shot you a wide-eyed glance before turning to address the rest of the team.

‘Oh. So it’s probably Iwaizumi then, huh. This is… good, actually. Not what I expected, but good.’

You had a few classes with Iwaizumi, but you’d never really spoken to him (save for a few times he’d dropped his pencil under your desk in Language Arts). Sitting on one of the lower bleachers, you examined the boys on the team.

There was Oikawa, of course, with his side-swept hair that looked kind of like a walnut. Despite his snobbish attitude and annoying persistence, he was kind of attractive and his volleyball skills were impressive. You smiled when Iwaizumi hit him in the back with a volleyball. Iwaizumi. In your opinion, he was the best out of all of them. Short, dark hair and muscular arms with a stern attitude. You especially appreciated how he made fun of Oikawa.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa were cool too. You’d seen them around and always thought they were pretty funny. Kyotani was a bit scary, but not too bad-looking. Yahaba was hard to judge, but he seemed pretty nice. You wouldn’t mind if any of them had a crush on you. Except for Oikawa, of course. He was the only one you couldn’t stand.

Time passed quickly with very few interruptions. The most interaction you got with the team was a few side glances and some waves (and Oikawa winking at you, but you returned the favor by glaring at him).

You made idle conversation with the team manager as you waited for them to leave the locker room.

The Great King™ and his entourage arrived shortly, chattering away as they approached. Oikawa smiled and you made a noise of disgust.

“Heyo! Are you down to take a walk around town later?”

“Absolutely not. If you’re not gonna tell me what you promised you would,” you emphasized, “I’m leaving your bitch ass and never talking to you again.” Makki and Mattsun burst out laughing at Oikawa’s offended face.

“Dude-” Makki hiccuped, “you just got completely shut down.” They doubled over wheezing, and Iwaizumi shook his head in disappointment.

Oikawa narrowed his eyes at you. “Well I can’t tell you here,” he said, waving at the gym, “said person is present. If it makes you feel better, Iwa-chan can come too.”

“I never agreed to that.” Iwaizumi said, eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh come on, it’s just for like two hours!” Oikawa pleaded, turning to look at his friend. “If you come I’ll do your clean-up two turns in a row..”

Iwaizumi looked at you and then Oikawa, contemplating his options. “Fine.” he grumbled. “You better not make me late for dinner, though.”

You stared at them. “I still haven’t agreed, you know.”

“If you go with us, I’ll tell you and even maybe set you up.” Oikawa wiggled his eyebrows and you groaned.

“Let me think about this first, I need to decide if it’s worth it or not.”

He nodded and you walked out of the gym, glad to be free of the stuffy air.

Sitting down on a bench, you weighed your options carefully.

Agree to go with them and find out who has a crush on you, but be forced to spend time with the one person you genuinely dislike

Or

Deny the offer and have wasted your time at his practice

Your thoughts were interrupted by Oikawa, who was tapping his foot impatiently next to you. “Are you done now?”

You stood up. “Yeah. I guess I’m going with you, but if you cheat me out of my answer or pull anything, I’m punching you and leaving.”

“I won’t, I swear on Iwa-chan’s inevitable beating-of-my-ass.” Oikawa promised, putting his hand over his heart.

“You still haven’t told me what this deal is about…” Iwaizumi muttered, trailing behind you as Oikawa excitedly led the way into town.

It took 30 minutes and an awkward bus ride before you arrived at your desired location. It was a part of town you usually avoided due to the mass amounts of schoolgirls (in your experience, every teenager attracted to men simped for the guy you were currently standing next to). Although quite populated, you had to admit it was nice.

The trees swayed gently in the breeze, and the murmuring of shoppers drowned out Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s trivial bickering. You were led into multiple stores by the boys, trying in vain to switch the topic to your secret admirer. Oikawa dodged the questions and Iwaizumi tuned out of the conversation before disappearing entirely.

You looked around, suddenly all-too aware of Iwaizumi’s lack of presence as Oikawa dragged you into another shop. “Where’s Iwaizumi?”

Oikawa looked at you, and then at your surrounding area. His eyes widened. “Uhhh… I don’t know?” He offered sheepishly. You grimaced.

“We need to look for him.”

“Why? We’re having so much fun.” Oikawa teased. “Iwa-chan’s responsible, he probably just went home.”

“It couldn’t hurt to at least text him. I don’t want to watch Iwaizumi yell at you for losing him in public.”

He shrugged and pulled out his phone. “That would be quite embarrassing.”

He scrolled for a bit and then showed you texts Iwaizumi had sent around fifteen minutes ago, explaining that he was getting bored and went home. “See? Told ya so.” You rolled your eyes.

“Ok, so now that that’s out of the way, can you tell me who has a crush on me?”

“Hmm… maybe later. Let’s keep shopping.” He said with a smile. You weren’t so amused.

“You literally promised to do it after your practice, but you dragged me on an hour-long shopping trip and refuse to tell me. You haven’t even bought anything!”

“All things come with time.” His tone was serious, but the mischievous smile on his face was not. You shook your head and decided to walk away.

“Wait!!” He called after you, speed-walking to catch up. “I’ll tell you, I swear. Just be patient.” You didn’t take this well.

“I’ve been patient for three hours. Tell me or I’m leaving.” You don’t know why you haven’t left already.

“Just do one thing for me, and I’ll tell you, alright?” You glared at him suspiciously.

“What do you want me to do?”

He waved at the shelf behind him, populated with plushies of all kinds. “Pick one!”

You stood there, confusion and suspicion mixing in the pit of your stomach. “What?”

“I said pick one. I’ll pay.”

“Why?”

“It’ll be a nice gift for your secret admirer, don’t ya think?” He beamed, prodding at one that vaguely resembled a duck.

You nodded, still suspicious. After around a minute of browsing, you picked up a small stuffie. He hummed in approval, plucking it from your hands.

“Off to the cash register! Don’t get lost now, you’ve almost discovered my secret.”

You waited in silence as he talked to the cashier cheerily. Despite his demeanor, you noticed his hands shaking when he took the bagged animal. He must have check-out anxiety.

Oikawa reached out to you, looking at you for approval. You shrugged your consent and he patted you on the head while slipping the bag into your hands. “C’mon, let’s get out of the store. I can’t properly confess someone else’s feelings to you in a place with so many people.” You followed him out, noting how he fidgeted with the edge of his shirt.

He led you through an intricate maze of pathways, adorned with soft pink trees and flowering bushes. You made a few snide remarks about how far he was going for someone else’s confession and he replied with teasing gestures of his own. The air, now slightly colder, carried the smell of spring.

At the end of the many paths he had led you down was a small pavilion made of old (slightly musty) wood. The raised platform had a border of carefully carved patterns and a few potted plants on the side. The trees filtered light in an intricate pattern, highlighting the natural themes. There were a few benches near the outside, moss-covered and looking like they had been popped out of a storybook. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it), there was no one there but you two. It was the ideal place for a confession.

You stood in the center as Oikawa brushed his hands through his hair and fumbled for words.

“So… you’re probably wondering who’s crushing on you.”

“Yeah, duh. That’s why I’m here.”

“Right.” He muttered meekly. “Anyways, uh… you know what? I’m just gon- I’m just gonna go for it.” He took a deep breath. “It’s me. I like you. I know you kinda hate me and that kinda sucks, but I wanted to prove that maybe I can be okay sometimes. It’s like totally fine if you don’t feel the same way and everything, but do you maybe want to get to know each other better? And you can keep the stuffed animal. That was for you anyways.” He paused at the end of his rant, blushing profusely. “So, yeah. Um. That’s it.” You just stared at him, mouth slightly parted in shock.

This was the last thing you’d expected. Before, when Iwaizumi left, you thought it would be weird for him to avoid the person he liked. Because of that, you figured it was someone else on the team. Or Oikawa was lying to you as some sort of cruel joke. Never in your 18 years of living did you ever think Oikawa Tooru could be attracted to you. And you didn’t think you could ever bring yourself to like him, either.

He was annoying and stubborn and pushed all the wrong buttons, but during his practice you couldn’t help but notice how he gave such specific praise and advice. You’d heard of his infamous rejections, due to him having tons of confessions daily, but he never left his fangirls crying. Despite his playboy attitude, he took the time to let them down easy and encourage them to go for someone else. His sarcasm and jokes were well-planned and rarely had sinister intentions (save for when Ushijima or Kageyama came around, his disdain for them was barely concealed).

All in all, he wasn’t the worst. And he was most definitely the prettiest guy to ever show interest in you. You couldn’t be completely sure of anything, though.

“Do you actually like me?” You asked.

He gasped. “How dare you assume I don’t! Of course I like you, I wouldn’t lie about something this important.” Behind his joking, you could see the glimmers of sincerity peeking through.

“Okay then. Uh, I don’t really know you all that well because… y’know I’ve hated you for a long time, but maybe we could be friends. I want to know you before we like, date and all that stuff.” He nodded eagerly.

“Sure! I kind of expected that, to be honest.” His eyes were lighting up and he bounced back on his heels a little. “Thanks for tolerating me today.” He winked and you sighed, but you couldn’t stop a small smile from making its way onto your face.

“Yeah, yeah. Want to exchange phone numbers so you can convince me you’re not the worst person I’ve ever met?”

“Gladly.”

This was actually really fun OvO my original plan was to write an enemies-to-lovers Oikawa story for my close friend @calicocatwrites (who coincidentally hates Oikawa lmao), but I got stuck on the plot so I used random words to form one :D I think I’ll write some more stories like this eventually. And this is my 100th post, woo!!

[peoplecallmelucifer]

Every story ever written

“Attention passengers“ A pleasant voice echoed trough the hallways “We will be arriving to Nithra 5 in half an hour. Please prepare to disembark“ John Was excited and nervous. He was a part of the group representing Earth at the art festival of the Galactic Assembly. Considering it was Earths first Time sending representatives and hew as the one giving the speech his nervousness was justified. AS they disembarked the cruise ship they were greeted by a tall and slender “It’s my pleasure to extend the greetings in behalf of the Galactic assembly. I am Nithra Suenn and was assigned as your guide during your stay“

John  stood on his toes so he would be able to look Suenn in the eyes. “ Oh, thank you. I’m Jonathan grace, you can call me John, This here is Antonio Morena..” “Toni for short” the man replied “...And this is Maria Petova“ “I’m Just short” Maria replied baiting a chuckle out of their Guide May I ask something before we start though“ Sam said “Of course“ Suenn replied “Could you tell us where the envoys of the other two newcomer are.“ “Of course. If you wish I could notify their guides and see if they would be willing to arrange a meeting later today“ “That’d be lovely“ “Now If you would follow me to your quarters. I presume you would want some rest before we start the tour“ “Lead the way miss Nithra“ Sam said with a smile AS the trio followed their guide they took in the sights of the Spacedock, during the 10 minutes shuttle ride to the planet surface Toni and John were debating their upcoming speech while Maria quietly hummed a lullaby as she stared out of the window. “Miss Maria“ Suen said as she noticed the humming “oh, yes Suenn?“ “May I inquire about the melody you were... singing“ “Oh that, I was humming a lullaby I usually sing for my daughter. This is the longest I’ve been separated from her so I’m a bit Melancholic“ “Oh,  quite understandable. We Tlii also have a strong  bond with our family ... I’m nearly 40 and I still call my parents daily.“ The rest of the ride was marked by present small talk. When they landed The Group was given an hour to rest before they head out towards the “Palace of Art” The most famous gallery in the Explored part of the galaxy. “So folks“ John said “First impressions“ “Bit too formal for my taste but not bad. The Guide is cute too“ Maria replied “I’m hungry“ Toni replied “Well go grab something from the hotels restaurant. Suenn Said all the costs will be covered“ John said as Tonis eyes widened “So ... Free all you can eat buffet?“ “Yes“ “And we are staying here for a week“ “Yes“ “...Good bye my summer body“

“You’re a pig“ Maria said as Toni was closing the doors A few minutes later Suenn knocked on the doors “hello again. I have contacted the guides of the other two newcomers and their envoys said they would gladly meet you but they also requested we arrive fifteen minutes early so that you can have a proper meeting“ “Thank you very much Suenn. Tell them we agree“ Maria said Suenn nodded and left “Why do you wanna meet them anyway“ Maria asked John “Well they are new here, we are new here, none of  us actually knows what’s going on. It might be easier for all of us if we feel confused together“ “Fair point“ The human delegacy arrived 10 minutes earlier than agreed, mostly because of Johns insistence. “Why were you so adamant on arriving early Mister John “ “Well... I was too anxious for waiting in the hotel“ “And waiting here is... not causing anxiety?“ “No, because here I’m sure I won’t miss anything important“ “I can not say I fully comprehend that logic but if it lessens your anxiety I see no problem with waiting here.“ “Can I ask you something Suenn?“ “Of course?“ “I noticed your First name was the identical to the name of the planet. Is that Just a coincidence or something else?“ “It’s actually Tradition. Tlii name their children after  their Birthplace and a name chosen by their parents. I was born on this planet so My Birth Name is Nithra while my Given name is Suenn.“ “Huh. Interesting.“ After a few more  minutes of casual discussions the two delegations arrived. The D’Dret Delegacy consisted of twelve members all sporting their environment suits. “Greeting fellow children“ the leader of the delegation said as he reached out his hand

“Children?” Antonio asked quietly“ “The D’Dret word for artist is the same as their word for child“ Suenn replied “Kinda fits right“ John shook the delegates hand “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m JonathanGrace, leader of our delegation. You can call me John “ “I am afraid my name is quite impossible for the translator to handle so feel free to call me Otra, considering that’s the Star system I hail from“ From the other vehicle disembarked a delegation of twenty Beings of Yellow christening appearance. a leader of the group stepped forth and greeted the gathered “In behalf of Veq Hive I speak the words of greeting” the translator read “In be half of Humanity I accept the gritting and send my own“ John said and bowed, Otra mimicking his actions saying “ I do the same on behalf of D’Dret autonomy“ The Veq leader let out a low pitch pleasant click returning the bow “This one is called Ruea“ “My name Is Jonathan Grace“ “Call me Otra, shall we head inside“ “Certainly“ Ruea and John replied While there were no delegates yet there was a descent amount of visitors to the Gallery and the three delegations as well as their guides drew a number of looks. This seemed to make Johnnervous again, but also even more excited than ever. His companions seemed to share this attitude along with the D’Dret delegates. The Veq did not experience emotions, or at lest not in the way  Humans did. They didn’t know fear,Happiness or anger, but could be inquisitive,curious and mistrusting or frustrated. Although the latter was extremely rare and fairly mild. “How come Humans only sent 3 creators“ Ruea asked “Well Humanity is aware of its reputation. Lots of people in the assembly consider us borderline insane due to our contradictory nature. SO our Academy decided that the best course of action here would be to send a small delegation and not draw much attention on ourselves.“ “A reasonable approach Otra said“ “Yeah, but us three decided we have something else in plan for our speech“ “You would... defy your superior?“ Rue said in intrigued Disbelief “to a Veq that causes great pain.“ “Well If i am not wrong, you are biochemically connected, so acts of defiance are extremely rare since your communication is almost instant and complete” John said impressing Ruea “In our case that is not so. We are very Individual even though we are social beings, and sometimes people in authority refuse to listen to suggestions because they see themselves above others. In that case we become defiant“ “You are a weird people“ Said Otra with a little pause “but than again I’m the one in the EV suit“ The lengthy conversation about differences in cultures and approaches to art between all the members of the 3 delegations attracted a crowd of intrigued listeners even Suenn and the other guides were intrigued and occasionally asked a question or two.

After A an hour Suenn spoke up “Excuse me delegates, but the Ceremony is about to start. Would you please follow your respective guide to your seat“ “Oh certainly.“ John said “Ladi Ruea, Otra It has been a pleasure. Hopefully we can continue this discussion sometimes soon“

Suenn Lead her delegation to a circular room with many levels. filled to the brim with delegations from thousand of species. Humans were somewhere around the middle,Maria Noticed the Veq being almost at the bottom and one of their delegates apparently noticed her waving and looked curiously at her. she than put her opened palms on her troth imitating a traditional greeting they taught her. John noticed Otras suit about two levels above them sat juxtaposed to them and covered one eye with his hand greeting his new friend with their greeting to which Otra replied with a peace sign. “hello and welcome everyone to the annually art festival of the Galactic Assembly.” said a small alien “He looks like a plushy” Toni whispered and baited another chuckle out of Suenn. ” This year the assembly welcomed three new species The Pedantic Veq hive, The crafty D’Dret autonomy and ... Diverse Alliance of human worlds. As is tradition the newcomers will hold their speeches first. Starting with the Humans.“ John stood up “I think you for this opportunity but before I hold my speech I must ask, on behalf of our new friends of the Authonomy  and the Hive. would you allow them to speak before us, as they asked me if I would be willing to swap places with them“ “Well... no one ever turned down the offer of being first to speak before, A kind gesture indeed. I don’t see why not. Verry well. Who of you wants to speak first“ “The Authonomy children will gladly hear out our comrades of the Hive before we speak ourselves“ ”I thank our new friends for granting this request of mine.” Lady Ruea replied as she slowly walked to the podium. Suenn turned to John “What you just did was unprecedented. May I inquire why have you done this“ “As we were about to go our separate ways lady Ruea noticed that her translator was running out of battery and her spare was left in their hotel. considering she didn’t want to miss any of our speeches so she asked if I would let her talk first so she can switch her power cell after her speech. and considering I’m nervous as hell right now I decided to give myself a bit more time to relax and see other speeches before I step down there“ “Coward“ Maria teased him “and proud of it“ he replied

The speech of Ruea was simple it briefly described the way her people think and the way they approach art, or as they call it creation. How they prefer writing in strict form but are also constantly looking for new forms to write. how their statues are  trying to be symmetrical in every way and yet innovative. After her Otra came down doing the same talking about how Their culture sees artists as people who never lost their child imagination how every new creation is a new unexplored wonder, just like every next step is a new experience for a toddler. Than came John’s turn. He was still a bit nervous but he kept his cool. “As you know. lady Ruea asked me if I would do her a favour and let her speak first. I let my new friend Otra speak second because I was too nervous to do it myself“ a few chuckles were heard among the crowd “AS you know Humans have a reputation and  I was given a ready speech by the people who sent me here to read and stay out of trouble so that I can alleviate that reputation. But than again That’d be to deny human nature.“ Nick said as he ripped a sheet of paper with a written speech “Oh boy here we go“ Toni commented “What is he doing“ Suenn asked “Being true to himself ... and being a jackass“ maria replied “Our leaders only allowed us artists one speech, and a small delegation. I can live with that. But if they want me to speak I will speak however I see fit. And yes I will get in trouble for this if you were wondering“ A few more chuckles and murmurs started among the crowd “I am know that whatever stylistic figures, whatever topic I can think of, someone else in this room will think of as well. The  Ka’ran are called the masters of Romance and yet some of their poets wrote works of horror I find exquisite.  The Hevar are proud of their odes and marching songs and yet I find their lullabies to be incredibly soothing. So I don’t see a point in pretending that you are going to find something new in our works.“

This statement caused shock, intrigue and utter confusion. Are humans really so self destructive they would sabotage their own nation for an act of defiance? But the whispers and murmurs didn’t bother John

“In our statues, in our poetry, in our novels or paining ... all the motives we use I have seen with one quick stroll trough this gallery. So on this day I claim every story ever told has already been told. we just mixed up the words a bit differently.

A silence fell upon the room

I am looking forward, my fellow delegates, to read how you layed out the words we use.“

*Tink* a sound of two crystals hitting each other was heard from the lower levels *tink* as John walked off the podium and the Veq delegacy tried to imitate human clapping with their christaline limbs. *tink,tink,tink* Soon the D’Dred joined in, followed by the Ka’ran and Hevra that John Mentioned. after a few seconds most of the delegates gave a hearty applause.

“Well...“ the  alien small alien from before stepped back on the podium. “... I guess that a lot of rumours about the humans are true. They certainly are unpredictable and reckless... But If more of them are like their delegation I can only imagine how their artwork looks like. I suggest we take a half hour break before we continue“ The rest of the festival passed in a breeze. with the human delegation being followed by numerous new fans wherever they went. after a week and the conclusion of the festival several species decided to take the “scenic rout home“ as Humans said. and stopped on Cyrenca prime, Nueva Galizza, Earth and other human worlds, buying novels, visiting art museums and observing statues... Jonathan Grace was financially penalized for his “insubordination”, but considering he refused to return to earth, proffering to travel the Worlds of the assembly in search of new ideas to write about, that debt was never prayed. _ _

If you managed to get this far congrats, and thanks for reading.

I wrote this because I’ve noticed a lot of stories under these tags ... even the 2 I wrote are always going towards military and conflict situations. SO I turned it around to something I like much more

[anonthenullifier]

Tommy’s First Girlfriend

Thanks for the ask, I hope you enjoy it!  -

It is not in Tommy’s nature to be nervous. Fifteen years of data so far has confirmed this. The last time there was any speck of a wavering self confidence was right before his first review with Sam after a mission, even then it was only a speck amongst the sea of almost endless assuredness that Vision admires (and may even envy) so much in his son. But here Tommy stands, refusing to make eye contact or keep his fingers still while asking a simple question, “Is it okay if I have a, uh,” Vision catalogs the way Tommy runs a hand through his hair, failing to find any similar instances of it being a nervous tic, “friend over to watch a movie, or something.” The last two words are muttered quickly and quietly.

The request is a common one, the Maximoff house slowly becoming a haven of sleepovers and study sessions, primarily for the Young Avengers crew, much to Vision’s delight. “Of course. When-”

“Tonight.”

Wanda glances at Vision, wordlessly seeking if he’s picking up on the general weirdness of Tommy’s on edge and too abrupt, even for a speedster, responses. A small nod provides confirmation and Wanda does what he cannot, easing seamlessly into a natural candor that masks her interrogation. “That’s fine. Is it the whole group or just Nate?”

The grout between the tiles of the backsplash becomes fascinating to their son, his feet developing a gentle forwards and backwards rock. Vision turns to inspect the area above the stove, just to be sure there is not a spectral demon coming through (an event that, sadly, happened a few months prior). There is nothing but the powder blue and white checkered pattern. Eventually, with an uneasy sigh, Tommy answers, “Her name’s Lisa.”

Vision sorts through all the files of people their boys have talked about and doesn’t find a match, even amongst the files from their old schools. This is not an issue, however, because they trust their sons in choosing friends. Before Vision can state this, Wanda mines for just a touch more background, a cheery smile on her face as she asks, “Who’s Lisa?”

Tommy’s rocking increases to a rate above a normal human’s, a sure sign he is contemplating whether he remains in the kitchen with them or abandons the entire endeavor by turning into a streak of green. “I met her during Avengers Give Back,” an annual community service event Pepper started five years prior, “we cleaned up the juvie cafeteria together.”

The attendee list for that site streams through Vision’s mind, stopping at the name Lisa Molinari, female, age fifteen, Springfield, New Jersey. Vision shrugs off the slight annoyance at the knowledge of Tommy hiding a friend from them, something that is within their son’s right but Vision thought they had a more open communication relationship with their children than that, and begins planning. “Does she have any food allergies?”

“Fine, geez,” Tommy’s confession bursts out, “she’s kinda my girlfriend, I think, I don’t know, we’re feeling it out, but I just need you all to be cool and just stay out of it.” A half second of silence is enough for him to actually process the question that was asked, as opposed to the one he thought was, his eyes wide, darting everywhere but Vision and Wanda. “I uh..” If not for Vision’s optimized visual processing, he never would have seen Tommy yank his phone out nor registered the furious tapping of his fingers before being informed, “I’ll let you know when she texts back.” With that Tommy extricates himself by disappearing in a blur.

—

If Tommy was nervous before, now he is veering into full blown anxiety, circling the room at a pace that threatens the integrity of their couch and has led to Wanda securing the bowl of popcorn in a cloud of red so they don’t have to clean up the room again.  “Thomas…” for the majority of parenthood, Vision has found himself at a loss for how to fully advise their children, having never experienced a true childhood himself, but in this instance, he finally feels useful, remembering the way he would hover endlessly in thought at how to approach Wanda or analyze whether her laughter and gentle touches to his arm meant something more than just a close friendship. A second, “Thomas,” slows their son down. It doesn’t stop him completely, but he is now moving at a conversational pace. “Entering into a relationship can be exhilarating and terrifying. It is-”

“I’m not afraid of her, dad.”

“I should hope not.”

Tommy’s annoyance manifests in a moody sigh and an eye roll, an attitude not conducive to romance and one Vision hopes to quell. “You simply need to be yourself and enjoy your evening.” A flippant shrug is all he gets and Vision does his best to temper his own annoyance at how hard Tommy can make it to have a meaningful conversation, something Wanda assures him is fairly common for teenage humans. “You should also be sure to be respectful and remember that consent goes two ways. Neither pressure her or be pressured yourself into an action you are not ready for. There is ample time for physical developments in a relationship and thus there is no need to rush anything.”

“Oh my God.”

Wanda smirks, her hand finding Vision’s and providing him a commiserate squeeze, “Your father’s right. Relationships have to be built on trust and respect.” If he and Wanda were of the same mind, this is where the conversation would stop, however, his wife far prefers to throw a little chaos into any situation. “Plus, we’re going to be in the kitchen all night and don’t want to overhear anything, got it?”

Tommy’s flustered, “Mom,” ends abruptly at the descending two note chime of the door bell. They allow their son to answer the door, his “Hey,” deeper than usual and attempts to be suave, or so Vision assumes based on the clearly fake air of nonchalance Tommy tries to exude by shoving his hands into the pockets of his tracksuit. “Come on in.”

His date’s voice is the only thing that comes through the door,  “My foster dad wanted to make sure your parents are here.”

The exasperated tone of the statement melds perfectly with the jerky wave of Tommy’s hand, directing Vision and Wanda towards the door. Once Tommy and his date move out of the way, Wanda sends a friendly wave to the man in the silver minivan. He acknowledges them with a single honk and then drives off.

“Thanks,” with the van gone Lisa relaxes just enough to smile politely at them while still making it known how ridiculous she thinks the request was, “He’s a bit protective.”

“Understandably so.” Vision cannot fault the man. Much to Billy’s chagrin, Vision always makes sure the Altman’s are around whenever their son goes to socialize, and the Altman’s, in return, always text to be sure Teddy can come over. Realizing they are all standing in an awkward circle, Vision allows his manners to soothe the air. “Welcome, I am-“

Tommy verbally elbows his way in, eager to move them along, “My dad and this is my mom and this” he waves a hand at his date, who grins nervously during the rushed intros, “is Lisa.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Mom, dad, you had something to do, right?”

Wanda nods, hands coming to wrap around Vision’s bicep to tug him towards the kitchen, “Let us know if you need anything.”

—

They remain, mostly, hidden for the duration of the night, tucked behind the wall separating the kitchen from the living room, conversing almost exclusively through Wanda’s telepathic link. At semi-random intervals either Vision or Wanda will cross the hardwood floors to get a cup of water or a snack, each time tracking the movements of the teens on the couch. Slowly Tommy inches closer to his date, their voices hushed but giddy, and on Vision’s trip back with another glass of water, his lips journey up into an easy arc at the way Lisa has slouched over, her ponytail laying across Tommy’s arm. When he sets the glass down for Wanda, taking her hand into his own so he can toy with the band of her wedding ring, Vision whispers his assessment. “They have reached the cuddling phase.”

This causes his wife’s nose to scrunch up, an adorably joyful sight, her eyes flashing red just to confirm his own conclusion, “They’re happy.”

“That’s all that matters.” Vision leans in, placing a kiss to his wife’s forehead, fond memories surfacing of their own movie night where they transitioned from friends to something more. “Would you care to join me on the deck for some stargazing?”

Instead of agreeing, she studies his face, an air of suspicion hovering between them, “You want to abandon our post?”

“I want to give them some time.”

The curl of her lips suggests she remembers their own pleas to their teammates, of just wanting time and space to exist as a couple instead of being subjected to prying eyes and whispers, “All right, Maximoff.”

Wanda accepts his arm and follows him out the back door and onto the swinging bench.

Time loses meaning under the stars with Wanda snugly wedged under his right arm. Which is why he’s surprised to hear the door open, gentle, unhurried footfalls bringing Tommy to the swing. Wanda brings her knees up, hugging them to her chest to give Tommy space to plop down, the action sending the swing into a wobble.

“How was your date?”

Unlike his usual sardonic avoidance, Tommy smiles, eyes upturned towards the sky, “It was fun.”

Vision cannot control how the world treats his children, no matter how valiantly he tries, and so he relishes moments like now, content in knowing Tommy is happy. “Wonderful.”

[crescent-quill-writings]

Rockefeller Ice Rink

Fandom: Hamilton - Miranda

Words: 2489

Relationship: James Madison/Marquis de Lafayette

Additional tags: Fluff, Christmas, Ice Skating, Modern AU

Inspired by @ovrarches!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

December in New York City was as charming as it was any other year. It was still early in the season, but the city had already been caught up in the full swing of the holiday spirit. Businesses had been decorated with reds, greens, and golds, and the landmarks of the city were preparing their own grand displays for the coming holidays.

James couldn’t help but smile as soft snowflakes landed amongst his eyelashes. As much as he tried to keep himself from getting caught up in the chaotic festivities of the city that never slept, the little things always got to him.

Once he turned the corner and ducked into the little niche of a cozy cafe, he pulled his ochre scarf below his chin, sighing as he left the winter-chilled air behind him. He allowed the scent of fresh coffee and seasonal spices to fill his nose as he stepped into line, and it didn’t take long before the attention of the barista was focused on him.

“I’ll take a dark chocolate mocha, hold the whipped cream.” He instructed quietly, offering the barista a nod in thanks as she went to prepare his drink and he took a seat in a booth by the window.

James was quiet as he waited for his drink, watching as the hustle and bustle carried each passersby throughout their day. He was happy that the café was quiet save for the instrumental carols that provided a classic, festive atmosphere to the little café. It was pleasant, although James would never fully admit it.

Soon, his name was called and he stood to collect his drink, his lips twitching upwards at the little pair of reindeer painted on the side of the cup as he returned to his seat.

He barely got a chance to bring the mug of warm chocolate to his lips before a familiar face stepped through the door.

“Jemmy! It’s good to see you,” Thomas called, walking past the counter to sit across from his friend, taking a moment to shake some snow out of his hair before he continued, “How’s the season been treating you?”

“It’s nothing that isn’t normal,” James replied with a small sigh as he set down his mug and leaned back in his seat, “I appreciate your concern, Thomas, but you shouldn’t worry yourself over me. We’re not kids anymore; I’ve mostly grown out of my asthma.”

Thomas gave him a bit of a strained smile as he folded his hands in front of him. He was bouncing his leg; James could feel the motion slightly shaking the table and creating little ripples in the surface of his mocha.

“Something on your mind?”

“Sort of,” Thomas began again, giving James another smile, this one nervous instead, “Are you busy at all today?”

“Not particularly, why?” James knew what Thomas’ tone meant. He was about to ask for a favour, or spring some social event on him. Or both.

“Do you remember Lafayette? I roomed with him when I was working in France a little while ago,” Thomas replied, tilting his head as he tapped his fingers on the table, “He actually just moved here last month, made fast friends with Alexander and his group too.”

“And you're telling me this because…?”

“I may or may not have already told him that you could go ice skating at Rockefeller with all of us today.”

And there it was. James could only sigh in response, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose, “Thomas, you know I’m not exactly a social person.”

“I know, I know,” Thomas replied with a sigh of his own, looking down and away from James in shame, “But he really wants to meet you, Jemmy. I told him a lot about you back in France and he’s excited about this.”

“Don’t ‘Jemmy’ me now,” James muttered, turning his gaze to his mocha in an attempt to ignore the pouts and whines that Thomas was trying to persuade him with.

“Come on, Jemmy, just this once? For me? It’s only a couple of hours, and I’ll owe you big time…”

“Fine,” James relinquishes with a huff, “You better not forget about this favour either.”

He didn’t give Thomas time to respond before he stood, taking his mug with him as he approached the counter and cleared his throat to get the attention of the barista.

“Could you put this in a to-go cup?”

 *~*~*~*~*~*

 The Rockefeller Centre was busy enough any other time of year, packed with native New Yorkers and tourists alike. The holiday season only dialled up the crowds to eleven.

The Christmas tree, though it was still in the process of being decorated before its grand unveiling, still caught the gaze of the many from the grandeur of its sheer size. There were streams of people coming in and out of the stores surrounding the square, the buildings of which were all dressed up in festive colours and to market themselves for the holidays.

It was New York’s beautiful, chaotic, and imperfect celebrations were well underway.

“I still miss the South’s way of celebrating this season,” James muttered as he did his best to keep up with Thomas’ long strides while he struggled to swim upstream through the mass of people, “It’s much classier, and causes much less anxiety too.”

“As much as I agree with you, James,” Thomas replied with a shake of his head, looking down and back at his much shorter friend, “Try to keep your chin up, alright? We’re here to have fun with some friends.”

James only huffed in response, looking down at the cup he held in his gloved hands. He just hoped he’d get a chance to finish his mocha soon.

“Thomas, mon ami! I am so glad that you could make it.”

James looked up as another man began to approach them. His resemblance to Thomas was uncanny, and save for a few details of his face and the neat bun that held back his thick curls, they could have easily been identical twins.

“I always keep my promises, Lafayette, it’s nice to see you too.”

James watched as they shared a few more words he couldn’t make out, most likely because they weren’t in English, before they pressed a pair of quick pecks to each of each others’ cheeks. It confused him for a moment until he remembered something about French greetings, and then Lafayette’s attention was on him.

“And you must be le petit James! Thomas has talked a lot about you, I am glad to finally meet you in person.” Lafayette’s demeanour was sugar, spice, and everything nice.

James had to catch himself before the icy appearance he usually kept with strangers melted away. He sent a quick glance to Thomas to ask for a translation of the words he didn’t recognize, but when he received a shake of the head in response, he decided not to dwell on it.

“Thomas has said many things about you too,” James replied with a curt nod, shifting his mocha to his left hand so he could extend the other for a handshake, “It is nice to meet you too.”

Maybe Lafayette didn’t see James’ hand, or maybe he simply ignored it, because as he a warm laugh bubbled past his lips he leaned down and pressed two quick kisses to James’ cheeks.

Almost immediately heat rushed to his faced as he stared up at the Frenchman with a flustered gape, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water as he tried to find an appropriate response.

“Oh, mon Dieu! I am so sorry, James, I forgot- I was only trying to be polite. That is how I would greet friends back in France.” Lafayette quickly replied once he realized what he’d done, taking hold of James’ still-extended hand in his mitted grip as he continued to murmur apologies.

Thomas, who had been watching this scene unfold with a guileful grin, couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore, “Don’t worry about it, Laf. James doesn’t take offence that easily, right?”

In the moment James finally managed to collect himself, giving a simple nod in response as he tucked his hand back in his pocket, “Of course not. Uhm, are the others here too?”

At the change of topic Lafayette smiled again, offering a nod in response, “Yes, they’re already on the ice. I just wanted to wait for you two.”

“How sweet,” Thomas replied, giving the Frenchman’s shoulder a pat to grab his attention, ���Why don’t we go grab ourselves some skates and get in on the action before they’re all tuckered out, hm?”

Lafayette smiled brighter this time with another nod as he followed Thomas to the little skate rental booth, going on to chat about something or other in his same sweet excitement.

James simply watched them leave, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he turned away to find a place by the boards where he could watch. It’s not like he had the skills to join in on the fun anyways, and here he finally got to enjoy his mocha.

He was quiet in his content as he sipped at the dark chocolate drink. It had lost some of its original heat, but it was still pleasant to hold and helped warm his chilled body. He turned his attention to the skaters a moment later, searching for the faces he recognized.

He saw Alexander and John laughing together as they ducked and wove between the other skaters in a rush to go nowhere. He watched for a moment as Burr stumbled for a moment before catching himself on Hercules, a giant of a man that looked a little out of place on the ice. Then, his gaze drifted back to Thomas and Lafayette, though he was only focused on the Frenchman.

James couldn’t help the way his lips twitched up in a smile. Lafayette’s eyes were warm, like the gentle glow of a candle on Christmas Eve. He watched the corners of the Frenchman’s eyes crinkle up as he laughed, and James felt himself mirroring the expression before he snapped himself out of his little daze.

“Get a hold of yourself, James.” He muttered, turning away as he finished off his mocha.

Still, he couldn’t help himself as he went back to watching Lafayette.

And that’s when their gazes met.

The Frenchman’s lips curled down into a frown, tilting his head in show of his confusion before he said a quick goodbye to Thomas and started to approach.

“Do you not want to join us, mon petit? I hope it is not because of me, I truly did not mean you any offence.”

“No, you’re alright,” James replied, hoping that it wasn’t noticable how his breath hitched when Lafayette touched his hand, “It’s just…”

“Is something the matter?”

James glanced away, clearing his throat. He tried to force down the embarrassed flush that tingled in his cheeks as he spoke, words not much more than a whisper, “… I can’t skate.”

Lafayette blinked for a moment, and James still didn’t look back at him before he heard sweet laughter bubble past the Frenchman’s lips. “If that is it, mon petit, then there is nothing you should worry about! Come, I will teach you.”

“I- I’m sorry?”

“I will teach you!” The Frenchman repeated with a beaming smile that James just couldn’t bring himself to say no to.

James’ cheeks were still warm with embarrassment as Lafayette hopped over the boards and held his hand, both figuratively and literally, through the process of renting and tying his skates before leading him to the edge of the rink.

“I’m not so sure about this…” James murmured. His steps were already shaky enough as he tiptoed behind the Frenchman, he didn’t know what would happen if he dared to step on the ice.

“Just don’t let go of my hands, yes? I will make sure you don’t fall.” Lafayette reassured, his words gentle and his smile as sweet as sugar.

James nodded, taking a wobbly step into the ice. He nearly slipped right out of the gate, but Lafayette was there, keeping his hands in his tight yet comfortable grip.

“See? It is not so hard. Just follow my lead, I will make sure you are alright.” Lafayette added with a soft laugh and a little smile. Sugar, spice, and everything nice.

James wasn’t sure if his legs were wobbling because of the skates or the fact that at this rate the Frenchman was going to make him melt.

He gave a small nod in response, smiling a little bit as he began to slowly glide forwards. Of course, Lafayette was doing most of the work, but he still let himself feel a little proud that he was getting somewhere.

James let his lips twitch up into a smile as he glanced up at Lafayette, and a different kind of heat flushed to his cheeks at how the Frenchman was looking back at him.

There was a gentle pride shining in his eyes as he smiled back down at James, giving his hands a little reassuring squeeze. He was nothing but genuine, soft and sweet in all his actions and words.

James couldn’t help the heat that flushed to his cheeks again and how his legs began to wobble. Whatever was left of his icy composure had long melted away, and apparently so did his balance.

“Oh Dieu!”

Lafayette wrapped his arms around James’ waist in an attempt to keep them both upright, but the Frenchman had already been knocked off balance. He fell back, landing flat on his backside with James pressed flush against his chest.

They slid to a stop a moment later, both staring at each other with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

James burst into laughter; it was all he could think to do in the moment. The sound rang clear like a bell as he relaxed against Lafayette’s chest. The Frenchman soon joined in, his own laughter a bright chiming sound that tickled James’ cheeks as it bubbled up from his chest.

“I’m sorry,” James began to speak, slowly calming down after taking a few deep breaths, “I don’t quite know what happened there.”

“It is quite alright, mon petit,” Lafayette replied, shaking his head. He was still laughing, though the chime had quieted down, “You did quite well for your first time, you should be proud.”

James smiled more with a quiet hum and a nod in response. He began to shift so that Lafayette would be able to stand again, and in turn, the Frenchman helped him back up onto his feet.

“I should repay you for doing all of this for me… Do you like hot chocolate? I know a good café that’s not far from here.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, mon petit.”

[anxiously-unsatisfied-world]

A Coffee For Here (So I Don’t Have to Leave Yet)

Pairing: Sleepxiety w/ background Roloceit Word Count: 6,292 Warnings: Vague mentions of pain (not too descriptive), lemme know if there's anything else. 

A/N: So if anyone remembers the Sleepxiety coffee shop/tattoo shop au I was working on, this is it! I’m really happy with how this came out (I’m not used to writing fics over 2k long ^^) I hope you all enjoy :D 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remy sighs softly as he steps into the café, shutting his eyes for a moment as the comforting scent of coffee washing over him. When he opens his eyes, he gives the place a once-over, liking the warm and cozy layout of the place. This café is shaping up to be one that he frequents regularly, but first, he must check the most important part. Sure, the atmosphere may be great, but if the coffee sucks? There's not much of a chance he'll be returning to this one.

He strolls up to the counter, barely glancing at the menu. There's no point when he already knows what he wants. "Hey, babes. Could I get a cappuccino with hazelnut and two extra shots of espresso?" The words are already out of his mouth before his eyes settle on the person in front of him. His eyes widen behind his sunglasses, a smirk spreading across his face.

Okay, so the barista is cute. That's a bonus. Remy eyes the way their black hair falls in front of their eyes, similar but not quite the 'emo fringe.' Their eyes look up from the notepad they'd been doodling on and Remy's heart stutters at how pretty their silver eyes are. He glances at their nametag, which is accompanied by a small purple pin reading they/them,  and smirks. Virgil. It's a nice-sounding name, definitely suiting the emo aesthetic.

"Yeah, that'll be $4.50. For here or to go?" Virgil says, sighing internally that they managed to say that right without stuttering. Social anxiety's a struggle especially when the customer is unexpectedly cute. And 'babes?' That kind of nickname nearly made Virgil swoon on the spot, only stopped because doing so would be too embarrassing and way too much like something Roman would do.

"For here." Remy finds himself saying. He had been planning on taking his coffee and going home now that his shift is over but maybe he'll stick around for a little bit if he can. Not that there's any particular reason behind his decision. Of course not.

Virgil takes Remy's money and counts out the change before looking back up. "Okay. Take one of these." Virgil hands him a buzzer, "It'll go off when your order is ready."

Remy nods, used to this whole exchange, going to find a seat while Virgil busies themselves with making Remy's coffee. Remy pulls out his phone and makes a show of scrolling through it, though he keeps glancing up to look at the pretty barista.

It isn't long before the buzzer vibrates and Remy stands, sliding his phone back in his pocket as he approaches the counter. He sets the buzzer down, picking up the mug and strolling back to the booth he had chosen but not before saying, "Thank you, babes."

Virgil's face flushes slightly at the nickname and Remy smirks when he catches it, bringing the mug to his lips. He lets out a soft sigh at the flavor and leans back in his seat. The coffee's delicious and the barista is cute? Yup, Remy's definitely coming back here soon.

While drinking his coffee, he alternates between looking at his phone and glancing over at Virgil, watching them wipe down the counter just long enough to get caught. Virgil raises an eyebrow and leans on their elbow, "Y'know, if you're going to keep watching me, maybe you should actually come talk to me."

Remy's eyes widen and he snickers at that, "You have a point, darling." Remy rises from his seat and perches on one of the barstools lining the counter, taking another sip of his coffee. "Uh, you okay there?"

Virgil had frozen, internally panicking at how smooth that was and why did they call Remy over here? Now they actually have to talk to him and oh, shit, he just asked them a question. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Okay…" Remy says, dragging out the word for a moment before shrugging and electing to ignore it. "So, lemme guess, your favorite band is MCR?"

Virgil's eyes widen and they tilt their head just barely, "What? I mean, I like their music, but no?"

Remy chuckles at how confused they sound and smirks at them over the rim of his mug. "No offense, babes, but you look like the epitome of emo right now."

Virgil groans and Remy snickers, taking the last sip of the coffee and setting the mug down, pushing it slightly towards Virgil. Virgil takes the mug and goes over to the sink to wash it, Remy watching as they do.

"So, if your favorite band isn't MCR, then what is it?" Remy asks, leaning forward on both his elbows.

"Uh… Panic at the Disco…" Virgil admits and groans softly when Remy starts laughing. "Okay, fine! I'm still emo. Happy?"

"Sure am, darling," Remy says in between laughs. Virgil just rolls their eyes, but it's hard to be annoyed too much when someone's laughing that genuinely, even if it's at his expense.

The two of them talk for a little while longer before Remy realizes that he's the only customer in the café. "Babes? Am I keeping you from locking up?" Remy asks, feeling bad if he has. He didn't mean to stay so long.

"I mean, kinda?" Virgil shrugs, "But I don't really mind. You're not like the other customers who stay too late, you're actually fun to be around."

"Oh am I?" Remy says, perking up a bit.

Virgil groans at the smug tone to Remy's voice, knowing that they accidentally just inflated Remy's ego. "Don't let it go to your head. You know what I meant."

"Too late~ and yeah, I do," Remy says with a shrug. "Either way, doll, I should probably get going. Don't wanna keep you here too late." Remy stands, smiling a little softer, not quite his usual smirk, when he sees Virgil deflate slightly. "Don't worry, babes. I'll definitely be back. But before I go?"

"Yes?" Virgil cringes a bit at how quickly they responded but Remy just laughs.

"It was nice meeting you, Virgil," Remy says with a grin, blowing a kiss in Virgil's direction and wiggling his fingers a bit before ducking out of the café.

Virgil hides their face in their hands, blushing hard from such a simple gesture. Damn… That certainly wasn't what they expected when they came into work this morning. But if only they'd gotten his name. It never properly came up in the conversation and know they're kicking themselves for not asking. At least, he said he'd come back so they have that to look forward to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, through his various appointments, Remy cannot get Virgil out of his head. It's been a good bit since he's laughed that genuinely. And thus, he finds himself once again at the café after work, hoping that Virgil will be there.

Virgil perks up when they see Remy come through the door, causing Remy to laugh softly. "Did ya miss me that much, hun?" Remy asks and Virgil blushes a bit, smirking at him.

"Wasn't expecting to see you back quite so soon," Virgil says. Remy shrugs and goes through the process of ordering his coffee, staying up at the counter this time.

"You'll be seeing a lot more of me from now on, I can promise that." Remy leans against the counter, watching Virgil prepare the cappuccino, a little distracted by how gracefully Virgil is moving.

"Oh, joy," Virgil says with heavy sarcasm, both of them snickering afterward. Virgil walks over to where Remy's sitting and slides him his coffee. "Oh, by the way, I don't think I got your name yesterday?"

Remy chuckles as he sips his coffee. "The name's Remy. It's a pleasure to meet you." Remy says with a hint of sarcasm, even going so far as to mock-bow, the effect lessened a bit since he's sitting down. Still, it causes Virgil to laugh and so that's a win in his book.

"Charmed, I'm sure," Virgil says, causing Remy to snicker. It's not often that he finds someone who's willing to and able to put up with his sass, especially not one who's able to sass him back like this.

"Of course, I'm the most charming one around," Remy says mock-seriously, grinning as soon as Virgil snorts.

"Sure, you are," Virgil says sarcastically, but there's a hint of truth to their words. Well, Remy may not be charming in the traditional sense, but there's something to him that's managed to charm Virgil. Otherwise, they wouldn't be so comfortable talking to him right now.

They talk once again, getting interrupted by the occasional customer, until it's about time for Virgil to close up. "I'll be seeing you, darling," Remy says, going out a limb to take Virgil's hand and squeeze it softly.

"I'll be holding you to that." Virgil says with a soft laugh, "You make the last bit before closing a lot more bearable."

Remy snickers softly and lets go of Virgil's hand, taking a step back. "Thank you, hun. I'll see you soon."

"Bye, Remy." Virgil waves as Remy leaves, unable keep a soft smile off their face while they close up the café.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remy starts coming back to the café often, most of the times after his shift as it's a reliable way to tell when Virgil will be there. Sure, there are some days where an appointment of his will go longer than expected and he misses those nights, but he's at the café more nights than he's not.

One day, he leaves the tattoo parlor and heads to the café, growing more excited to see Virgil with each step. He all but throws the door open, knowing that the dramatic gesture would be something Virgil would laugh at, but freezes when he sees the barista.

Instead of Virgil in their usual purple and black attire, there's someone else in yellow and black. Someone who happens to be giving him a sly smirk, their hands steepled in front of them.

"Looking for Virgil?" The barista asks, chuckling when Remy's eyes widen at the question. "Surprised? Well, he's not here. It's his day off, you'll have to deal with me."

Remy strolls up to the counter, already too intrigued by this encounter to consider leaving. "Sure. I'll have a…"

"Hazelnut cappuccino with two shots of espresso?" The barista asks, raising a single eyebrow.

"How did you?" Remy asks, nearly wanting to take a step back from the guy, already unsettled by him but now he knows his order? He glances at the barista's nametag like it would answer his question, the sight of a cartoonish snake doodled by the name confusing him even more. How can someone this cryptic have something so cute on their nametag?

Declan snickers at Remy's expression and waves his hand, "I'll drop the whole 'villain' facade. Virge says I do it too much." Declan shrugs, ringing up Remy's order while he explains, "Virgil told me your order and that you might be in today."

"Uh-huh," Remy says slowly, reeling from Declan dropping the persona like it was all an act. Maybe it was. Remy's no stranger to friends who put on acts like that. After all, Roman does it all the time. "And you know Virgil how?"

"I'm their brother," Declan says simply, starting to make Remy's coffee to go, figuring he's not going to stick around since Virgil's not here. "Honestly, I couldn't wait to meet the customer they talk so highly of." It's clear Declan's teasing him, but Remy can't help but feel touched that Virgil talked about him.

Declan glances at Remy and sees the softer expression, his own softening a bit to match. "It's been nice seeing them so happy, so I guess I have you to thank for that."

Remy shrugs at that, "It's no trouble, really. I enjoy spending time with them." Remy blinks when Declan hands him his coffee, curling his fingers around it absentmindedly.

"Good." Declan says, looking at Remy for a moment in a way that reminds him of a snake eyeing its prey, "Now, I shouldn't have to say this, but if you hurt him? I'll end you." Declan's voice goes quiet and serious, sounding brutally honest.

Remy gives a nervous smile and holds his hands up in a placating gesture. "Don’t worry, if that happened, Virgil would probably end me first." Remy says with a small laugh, "But I won't let that happen. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I hurt them."

Declan watches him for a moment more before his expression softens, clearly finding what he wanted. "Good. And you're right. You'd have both of us to worry about, but I can tell you'll do your best to avoid that." Declan gives a small, approving smile. "Well, I'll see you around, Remy."

"Yeah, see you." Remy says, giving a two-fingered salute and ducking out of the café, slightly rattled by that whole experience.

Declan simply smirks, assured that his sibling will be safe in Remy's hands if it ever gets to that. He's good at reading people and it's clear that Remy will do everything to prevent Virgil from getting hurt. That's always a good sign.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time Remy goes to the café, he can't help but feel slightly on edge, knowing now that there's a chance that Declan will be there instead of Virgil. Sure, he doubts that Declan would pull the whole foreboding and creepy act a second time, but he can't help the uneasy feeling.

Virgil looks up with bright eyes when Remy opens the door, only for their expression to turn annoyed and a bit downcast when they see how nervous Remy looks, though he's trying his best to hide it.

"Dee did the thing, didn't he? The whole Disney villain act?" Virgil says, tapping their fingers together mimicking the way Declan held his when Remy met him. Remy nods and Virgil huffs, turning to make Remy's coffee to give them something to do with their hands. "Ugh, I told him not to. He likes doing it anytime I make a new friend, says it's a test of sorts to weed out anyone undeserving. His words not mine."

"I can see how." Remy says with a wry smile. "It would be effective for anyone who's easily intimidated."

Virgil snorts, shaking their head lightly, "You don't have to tell me that. Patton wouldn't come by our house for weeks after he first spoke with Dee." Virgil says, sounding both fond and exasperated. "But you're still here, so it clearly didn't work on you."

"Of course, it didn't." Remy says, smiling when Virgil passes him his coffee, wrapping his fingers around it. "I've definitely had weirder encounters."

"Oh, yeah?" Virgil asks, looking curious enough to prompt Remy into storytelling mode. There's no shortage of stories for him to tell, not with his friend group.

After enough of these stories, Virgil laughs softly, "Yeah, I can see now that Dee is hardly the weirdest person you've dealt with."

Remy blinks, awed by the sound of Virgil's laugh. No matter how many times he hears it, it sounds like the prettiest sound in the world to him. "Exactly, babes." Remy smirks when Virgil's face goes red at the nickname, "So you don't have to worry about me, it takes way more than an overprotective brother to scare me off."

Virgil just smiles then, a soft genuine one that takes Remy's breath away. "That's good." Virgil glances around and gives a sheepish smile at the realization they've been listening to Remy's stories all the way until closing time. "I guess it's time for me to lock up."

"All right, sugar. I'll see you later, then." Remy says, once again blowing a kiss in Virgil's direction, laughing in delight when Virgil mimes catching it and holding it close. Remy ducks out of the café with a small wave, unable to keep from smiling on his way home. It really is unfair how cute Virgil is sometimes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remy continues his pattern of regularly going to the café to talk with Virgil until closing time. As the days go by, it's hard to deny how much of a crush he has on Virgil. Even the smallest smile directed at him will make his heart skip a beat and when Virgil laughs? Remy's gone, unable to focus on anything but that sound.

Because of this, he has managed to become even more flirtatious than how he usually acts, greeting Virgil most of the time with some kind of pun or pick-up line and leaving the café with blown kisses, winks, and cheeky grins. For the most part, Virgil responds in kind or just smirks fondly at him.

Honestly? It has Remy absolutely elated.

"Hey, babes. How's my favorite barista doing?" Remy asks as he enters the café one night, grinning when Virgil snorts softly, looking pleased to see him.

"I swear you only like me for the coffee." Virgil says teasingly and Remy plays off of that, gasping over-dramatically and throwing the back of his hand up to his forehead in a way Roman's done several times.

"Oh, my poor heart! How could you say such a thing?" Remy leans against the counter and sighs dramatically. He squeaks when something flicks his shoulder, but the sound of Virgil's laughter halts any complaints he might have.

"Oh, shush. I know you're not just here for the coffee." Virgil says with a grin once they stop laughing. "You're here for my dazzling personality." The words are said with an air of confidence similar to how Roman would say such a line, but also with sarcasm in a way that's uniquely Virgil.

"Obviously, babes," Remy says, leaning forward on his elbows and resting his chin on his hands. "Now, about that coffee?"

Virgil laughs at that, shaking their head with fond exasperation. They turn to make Remy's usual order while Remy fishes the money out of his wallet.

The night continues as it usually would, with them talking and enjoying each other's company during the breaks in between customers. At closing time, Remy gets a burst of confidence to take Virgil's hand again, this time bringing it up to his lips and brushing a soft kiss against their knuckles.

Virgil's eyes widen and their face goes red, but an amused smile spreads across their face. Remy winks at them, chuckling at the darkening of their blush.

"Until next time, babes." Remy says, squeezing their hand once before letting go of it, relishing in the way Virgil's breath hitches at the pet name.

"Remy!" Virgil calls out right as Remy gets to the door, causing him to pause and turn to look at them. Virgil gives a shy grin before blowing a kiss at Remy, who mimes catching it on pure instinct. "See ya later, Rem." Remy nods with a grin before leaving the café, already unable to wait until the next time he sees them again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the course of them getting to know each other, Virgil's slowly realizing that they want to get a tattoo of some kind, even sketching up some rough designs for one should they decide to go for it.

"Virgil, are you alright?" Logan asks, looking at Virgil with concern. "You've been a bit distracted." Roman nods, a similar concerned expression on his face.

"Yeah, I've just been thinking about something." Virgil says, giving an apologetic look that they've been spacey today. "I think I want to get a tattoo." They admit, causing Roman to brighten and Logan to look at them with mild surprise.

"And you're sure about this, Virgil?" Logan asks, looking at them in that way he does when he's trying to analyze someone.

"Yup." Virgil says, popping the p. "I've been thinking about it for a few weeks now and I have a vague idea of what I'd want and where, so I'm pretty sure."

Logan seems to find what he's looking for since he nods and lets Roman take over the conversation. "If you're looking for recommendations on tattoo artists, I could hook you up," Roman says with a grin. He's got several beautifully-made tattoos himself so Virgil has no reason not to trust his judgment in this instance.

"Sure, that'd be great." Virgil says and Roman grins at them.

"Okay, so, most of my tattoos were done by the same person and I think you'd really get on well with him! See this one?" Roman raises the sleeve of his shirt up to show a rendition of the rose from Beauty and the Beast. "He did this one and look how great it turned out!"

Virgil leans forward a bit to look at it, a bit awed by how smooth the lines are and how well it's been inked. "Yeah, it does look great, Ro. So, should I get my tattoo done by him? You seem to trust him a lot."

"I think you should, but it's up to you. It's your tattoo after all. However, I can give you the number of his tattoo parlor so you can call and make an appointment." Roman pulls out his phone and looks quizzically at Virgil, who just nods. Roman grins and starts typing something before Virgil's phone buzzes in their pocket.

"There. Trust me. He's a really good artist and don't worry about being nervous. I definitely was for my first tattoo but he's also really great at easing any fears you might have." Roman says and Virgil gives a small smile at that.

"Alright. Thank you, Ro." Virgil leans back in their seat, feeling relieved that they at least have a tattoo artist to look into now, without having to do hours of research into it like they'd been planning. Sure, they're still going to be cautious about the whole thing but since Roman's had several tattoos from the guy that turned out well, it seems like it might not be a bad idea to go to this one.

"Anytime, my dear compatriot! Now, let me tell you about the surprise I've got planned for Dee…" Roman starts talking and Virgil's content to sit back and listen to Roman's idea, Logan already knowing about the date as he's in on it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil does end up calling and making an appointment with the guy Roman recommended, just a basic consultation to see if it really is a good idea getting their tattoo done there. So, on their next day off from the café, they find themselves outside a tattoo parlor that's actually rather close to the café now that they think about it. Virgil just shrugs and goes inside the building, feeling a bit antsy about the idea of getting a tattoo now that they're actually here.

The receptionist smiles at them brightly. "Please, have a seat. He's almost done with his current appointment."

Virgil nods and pulls out their phone, scrolling idly through Tumblr until they hear an excited gasp, causing them to look up in confusion. Their eyes widen at the sight of the person in front of them, their mind going back to realize that they never did find out what Remy did for a job.

"Virgil, babes! What are you doing in my neck of the woods?" Remy asks with a bright smile, figuring that Roman had something to do with it. Roman did tell him that he'd recommended him to a new customer, after all.

Virgil chuckles a bit sheepishly, "I decided I wanted to get a tattoo. I didn't know you worked here…" Virgil says and Remy smiles softly at them, understanding that they're feeling a bit nervous about this.

"Well, come on in, sugar, and we can discuss what kind of tattoo you want." Remy says, his voice going a bit more professional. "Clearly, I'm the best around or you wouldn't have come to me." Remy winks, hoping to make Virgil relax a bit.

It seems to work as Virgil snorts and rises from their seat, following Remy to a room set aside especially for consultations. The walls are covered in examples of tattoos that Remy's done, ranging from simple outlines to large sleeves full of color and detail.

Remy sits down and gestures for Virgil to do the same, giving them a soft smile. "So, darling, do you have an idea of what kind of tattoo you'd like?" Remy asks, curious since Virgil's never mentioned having nor wanting to have a tattoo to him before.

Virgil nods and pulls out a notebook. "Yeah, I've actually sketched a few ideas out." Virgil gives a sheepish look, causing Remy to shake his head barely.

"Don't be nervous, hun. You're not the first one who's brought in sketches before. Now let me see them. Is there one in particular you feel like you're wanting?" Remy says in a soft, calm tone, smiling reassuringly at them.

Virgil's shoulders relax and they open the notebook, flicking through a few pages before stopping and holding out the notebook for Remy to take. Remy looks down at the page, a smirk spreading across his face at the purple thundercloud design. Actually, now that he looks closer, the main part of the purple is actually a galaxy pattern, but it still doesn't look like it's out of his range.

"Ooh, this is real pretty, doll." Remy says, looking back up at Virgil. "So, is this the one you want?" Virgil nods, looking faintly nervous still. "Don't worry, darling. This is hardly a challenge for me. Listen to me for a moment." Remy starts to explain what Virgil needs to know about the actual appointment, figuring that Virgil's too keyed up for it be today. He goes over how long the session would be, how much it would cost, etc. All the important things.

"So, you still sure about this, doll?" Remy asks, giving Virgil the opportunity to back out if they're too anxious about it. He would not want his Virgil to regret anything like this if he could be the one to prevent it from happening.

"I am. I want the tattoo." Virgil says, their voice a lot more certain now that Remy's explained everything.

Remy smiles and shuts the notebook. "Alright, babes. Mind if I hold onto this so I can get a stencil ready for you?" Virgil shakes their head and Remy sets the notebook on his desk, standing up and helping Virgil to their feet, squeezing their hand softly.

"Make an appointment with the receptionist before you go, alright, darling?" Remy brings Virgil's hands to his lips, brushing a kiss across their knuckles. "And I'll likely be seeing you tomorrow night, you do work then, right?"

Virgil nods, a smile on their face at the gesture. "Yeah. I'll see you then, Rem." Virgil says, getting a strangely confident look on their face before they lean up and peck Remy's cheek softly. "Bye, Remy." Virgil leaves the room and Remy laughs softly once they're gone, his heart fluttering in his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil makes an appointment with the receptionist for the following week before going out and sitting in their car, pulling their phone out of their pocket. 'I'm coming over.' They text Declan, quickly receiving an okay that has them pulling out of the parking lot and heading over to their brother's house.

Once they arrive, they head up and go inside, strolling into the living room where Declan is curled up on the couch with Roman on one side and Logan on the other, an arm around them both. Which is exactly what Virgil had expected when they'd sent their brother the text.

Virgil playfully narrows their eyes at Roman, who just grins at them, feeling like he knows why they're there. "Hey there, emo nightmare. How was the appointment?" Roman says, entirely too cheekily for Virgil's liking.

"You knew, didn't you? That the Remy from the café was the same tattoo artist you were recommending to me?" Virgil says, crossing their arms and mock-glaring at Roman, no heat in the expression at all. After all, it's not like they mind spending more time with Remy. They just want to tease Roman a bit.

"Sure did, storm cloud!" Roman says with a grin, "Or at least, I was pretty sure I did." Roman looks like he would shrug if he weren't pressed so close up against Declan. "Why? Afraid that your crush is the one that'd be giving you a tattoo?"

Virgil scowls slightly at the teasing tone, "Of course not. But what have we said about you playing matchmaker?"

Roman just chuckles. "You'll be thanking me later."

Virgil huffs at how sure Roman is at that, but… He's not exactly wrong is he? Though they didn't really need his help to get closer to Remy, it would've happened eventually.

"Wait, what is this about a tattoo?" Declan asks, looking a bit confused but mostly curious. He knows that Virgil's wanted a tattoo for a long while but they've always been too anxious to actually go through with it.

"I decided I wanted to get one." Virgil says with a shrug. They pull out their phone and open up a picture they'd taken of the sketch they gave Remy. "This is the one I'm getting."

Declan looks at it and Roman leans closer to get a peek at the screen. "It looks good. And you're sure that Remy's a proficient tattoo artist?" Declan says, sounding a bit worried.

Virgil just smiles and is about to answer when Roman speaks up, "Most of my tattoos were done by him, Dee." Declan thinks that over for a second before nodding slowly.

"So, yes. He can be trusted to do a good job." Virgil adds.

"Okay. But V?" Declan asks, looking curious at them, a teasing glint in his eye. Virgil just tilts their head and Declan smirks. "When are you actually going to ask the guy out?"

Virgil groans, flopping onto the couch beside Roman. "I dunno. Soon, I guess?" Virgil shrugs and Roman gasps excitedly.

"Ooh, I know! You should ask him out after he does your tattoo!" Roman suggests, looking far-too-excited to help Virgil with their love life.

"Maybe." Virgil shrugs, thinking it over. That doesn't actually sound like a bad idea if they can go through with it. Roman looks appeased at the maybe, snuggling further into Declan's side. The conversation shifts to something else, leaving Virgil mulling over their decision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil swears that time slowed down on purpose between the consultation and the actual appointment just to mess with them. But once the week is over, it feels like it flew by in a flash.

Shortly after lunch, they're once again at the tattoo parlor, ready for the long hours ahead. They pull out their phone while they wait for Remy to finish up the appointment before them, which has the benefit of distracting them from their nerves a bit.

All too soon, they're following Remy into the main room of the tattoo parlor, feeling both nervous and excited, which Remy seems to sense as he gives them a soft smile.

"If you decide it's too much, we can just do the outline today and do the coloring another night, alright, babes?" Remy asks, setting a hand on Virgil's shoulder.

The warmth of his hand comforts Virgil and they nod. "Yeah. I'll let you know if that happens, but for now, I want to get it over with."

Remy laughs and heads over to their tools. "A good mindset to have! Mind taking your jacket off and having a seat for me?" Remy says as he double-checks that everything's ready to go.

Virgil nods and shrugs out of his jacket, sitting down in the chair and watching Remy for a moment. Remy pulls on a fresh pair of gloves and turns around, freezing for a moment at the sight of Virgil in a black tank top. Damn… Virgil's more muscled than their hoodie gives them credit for…

Remy shakes his head, snapping into a more professional attitude. There's time to be gay for Virgil later when he doesn't have to worry about doing his actual job. Virgil smirks slightly at the look and watches as Remy sterilizes the area and puts an initial outline on their upper arm. Remy double-checks that it looks the way Virgil wants it to before beginning to ink the tattoo.

It hurts. Virgil had expected that, of course, but it's a bit different from being mentally prepared for it and actually feeling it. Remy winces sympathetically as Virgil hisses at the pain. "So, what's the inspiration behind this design?" Remy asks.

"So, when Ro and I were kids, he would rope me into playing princes with him and we came up with these designs as the emblems of our two kingdoms and the main inspiration of one of his nicknames for me. We'd go on all sorts of adventures together." Virgil says with a fond smile, "One time…" They start telling a story of one of these adventures, getting so lost in telling the story that they're not thinking about the pain anymore, letting it become something they can easily ignore.

Remy smiles once he realizes this and at how cute the story is. It's exactly how he would have pictured Roman acting as a kid.

The outline takes about an hour to complete, but with Virgil's storytelling, it feels like it flew by. "Okay. Outline's finished." Remy says once Virgil wraps up a story, snickering at the surprised expression on their face. "Want to take a small break before we start the coloring?"

Virgil nods and Remy sits back, grinning at them. "So I'm assuming Roman told you to come here?"

"He did. He was super excited that I'm getting a tattoo and suggested I come here almost immediately."

Remy chuckles softly. "Yeah, he told me he'd recommended me to someone. Didn't think for a second it'd be you, but it clicked when I saw you and from how smug he'd been on the phone."

Virgil rolls their eyes, a faint smile on their face. They talk for a little while longer before Remy sits up and tilts his head at Virgil. "So, you ready to get the color started?" Virgil nods and Remy stands up, going to get the coloring set up before getting into position. "Once again, if you need a break, don’t hesitate to ask."

"Okay," Virgil says and Remy starts working, causing Virgil to wince at the pain, but it's not as bad as before. They'd read that for some the coloring is the worst part, but they're glad that it's not for them at least this time.

Remy starts asking Virgil questions, some having short answers, like what their favorite hot drink is, and some requiring a full story to answer properly. It has Virgil so distracted that when Remy pulls back, saying that they're done, Virgil can't quite believe it. How did all that time pass by like it was nothing?

Remy chuckles at their expression and goes to put the tool away, coming back over and cleaning the tattoo gently. "You want to see it before I wrap it up, babes?" Remy asks and Virgil nods quickly. Remy smiles at their enthusiasm and takes their hand, helping them to their feet and over to a mirror on the wall.

The tattoo looks perfect. There's a pretty galaxy effect ranging from pink to purple to indigo in the center bit of the thundercloud but the rest is a softer purple. It's exactly what Virgil wanted. "Woah… This is beautiful, Remy." Virgil says, their voice awed and soft.

Remy smiles, feeling a swirl of warmth at seeing Virgil so pleased with his work. "Thank you, babes. Now, let me wrap it up and tell you a few things."

Virgil lets Remy lead them away from the mirror and back to the chair. Remy makes sure that the tattoo's cleaned before putting a bandage over it and wrapping it up, explaining what Virgil will need to do to take care of the tattoo until it's fully healed.

"And then you'll be good to go, darling," Remy says and Virgil smiles shyly at him, Roman's suggestion coming back to them.

"Thank you, Remy," Virgil says earnestly. "I was hoping to ask you something once the tattoo was done…" They trail off, a bit anxious, looking away from Remy.

"Which is, sweetness?" Remy asks, setting his hand on theirs, giving them the time they need to regain whatever confidence this question needs.

"Would you go on a date with me?" Virgil blurts out. It's like a bandaid, you gotta rip it off.

Remy chuckles softly and brushes his fingers against Virgil's cheek. "You beat me to it, babes. I was going to ask you if you'd like to come to dinner with me tonight." Remy says, his voice soft and affectionate. Enough so that it makes Virgil melt where they're standing.

Virgil smiles softly at Remy, causing his breath to catch at how pretty that expression is. "Darling, tell me if this is too soon, but I kinda want to kiss you…"

"Please…" Virgil whispers and Remy exhales softly, brushing a bit of Virgil's bangs out of their eyes before leaning forward and kissing them softly.

The kiss is short but sweet and full of promise. As he pulls back, Remy slides a hand down Virgil's arm and takes their hand, entangling their fingers together.

"Come on, Virgil. Let's go get that dinner." Remy says. "You told me so many stories today, I think it's only fair that I tell you some of my own."

"I'd love that," Virgil says and they leave the tattoo parlor, hand-in-hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging @sleepless-in-starbucks since it’s Remy-centric ^^

Sanders Sides Taglist (lemme know if you want to be added/removed!):  @anuninspiredpoet, @echomist13, @theresneverenoughfandoms @fiive-second-cookies @sevencrashing, @virgil-is-verge @fandermom @evilmuffin @fairytailtwists

Non-Sides Fics Taglist from the Fanders Taglist:

@starlightlogan @katesattic @potterlover394 @imaflashcard @anonymouseandkeyboard @k9cat @patpots-blog @ocotopushugs @justmyshitandmoreshit @patchworkofstars @blaikleethepanagender @thats-so-crash @maximum-fander @evilmuffin @trashypansexual @runyou-cleverboy-andremember @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @beetlequail @angered-turtle @lemonyellowlogic @analogical-mess @max-is-tired

[aelaer]

A quick apology to those I haven’t replied to in the last month. I haven’t been very good with it on tumblr and I haven’t been doing a good job at reblogging things I should be reblogging, either. So I just wanted to give thanks for including me though I have not been very good at replying. I will do my best to get to it soon.

The post just devolves into anxiety from here. If you’ve ever wondered what the inside of a brain with social anxiety looks like, it ain’t pretty. Today’s therapy session was devoted around two occurrences, one that happened 2 years ago, another that happened in *2014*. I presume normal people don’t think of social interactions from 2014, but there you go. But the rest of the ramble goes into the interaction from 2 years ago, as that’s the one relevant as to why I’ve been cautious on getting too much on tumblr.

(But I’m getting better, bit by bit. I still have a way to go.)

(I am still not sure how to tackle my largest individual cause of anxiety here on tumblr, either, especially because the individual who triggers it likely doesn’t realize that they do. I see their posts reblogged often and since I’m more easily triggered into anxiety attacks the last few months, I’ve been cautious on how much I’ve been on tumblr.)

(How do I tell a person that because they follow me but ignore everything I produce in stark contrast to the rest of their tumblr activity (it’s that *contrast* that makes it so obvious, the Stephen Strange fandom is pretty farking small) has been giving me anxiety attacks once every 3-4 months since the summer of 2019? (Yes I know that’s not normal, thus the therapy. She’s been an absolute godsend, though.) How do I tell a person that I wanted to try and start afresh but I have no idea how to because I’m just not that good with people, and I know that I angered them two years ago and probably butchered the apology? Why do they follow me if our last interaction was an apology that was never replied to? That’s the part I don’t get! They probably don’t like me, right, if they never accepted the apology? There’s no interaction with my work here on tumblr or AO3, so they don’t like the work either-- so why follow if you like neither the work nor the person behind the work? You wouldn’t follow someone you didn’t like, right? That’s the logical assumption, isn’t it? But then why no interaction if you interact regularly in fandom? And even after going through this whole thing for half an hour with my therapist, I still don’t know how to approach this.)

(It came up because today was trigger day for some inexplicable reason. I’d prefer either not to be followed or some sort of normal tumblr like-whatever interaction as is this blogger’s usual M.O., not this weird middle lurking ground. (And the weird middle ground is where that abusive sockpuppet of an IronStrange writer from also 2019 came from, so I’m now doubly paranoid about uncharacteristic middle grounds.) I haven’t blocked the person because they haven’t done anything wrong-- I was the one that committed the rather bad faux pas 2 years ago-- and it’s not their fault that I have social anxiety up the wazoo. And that’s the tale of my current greatest tumblr anxiety.)

(Yes, social anxiety plus atypical neurological brains means frequently thinking back to an interaction that you had 2 years ago that didn’t end well. Yes, it’s about as fun as it sounds.)

(And I am making these mental health posts in order to try and normalize the fact that no, I’m not fully neurotypical, and that’s okay. I mean, anyone who had a problem with that or made fun of that has bigger issues to deal with anyway, so I figure-- it’s fine to post such things here. Half of tumblr has a neurotypical issue to deal with anyway, so it’s nearly the norm on this website.)

[artificialqueens]

These People in This Room (Don't Shine Like You) (Diamond Chaney) - Ortega

summary: Lawrence has just been crowned the winner of RuPaul’s Drag Race UK, and Ellie is right beside her. Just like she’s always been.

a/n: omg HIIIIII! here’s my entry to the fic challenge (will it be my only one? who can say). in a shocking turn of events this is not a drabble asdfghjk but would we have expected anything concise from me? this fic was inspired by Shine and Starstruck, both by Years and Years. they are very diamond chaney songs so pls do give them a little listen for full effect! standard procedure, she/her pronouns bc they’re in drag, u know the drill. this has taken me entirely too long to write but pls enjoy some diamond chaney from the night of the crowning! (pls also collectively pretend they had an actual dancefloor to celebrate on and not just a hotel room bc i had already started writing at the point Ellie posted her BTS. fic is just one big serving of pretend anyway xo)

***

It’s somewhere around midnight, the sun has set on Thursday and Friday has crept in, and Lawrence is sitting in a booth with the dancefloor flashing bright colours in front of her, only just daring to believe that this is her actual life.

There is not a single moment that seems real. Even being one of the top four took her essentially since filming stopped to come to terms with. But hearing her name being read out, hearing the other girls cheer for her and being able to do nothing but stare at the screen in disbelief with her hands over her mouth and sob like a baby…that’s not sunk in yet. Maybe it never will. She’s still feeling the after-effects from the way the shock and euphoria had kicked seven shades of shit out of her pulse, the way the serotonin had crashed over her like a wave and the absolute unbridled lack of control she’d had over any of her emotions.

When the cameras had been cut off and they’d been given the all-clear from the producers that they could hug each other, Lawrence had only managed to stand up from the chair, still in floods of tears as Bimini bundled their arms around her, Tayce had jostled them all with the way she’d jumped up and down and yelled in delight, and Ellie had looped her arms around her neck and murmured into her shoulder, words Lawrence couldn’t hear but felt the love from regardless.

It had to be Ellie, really, that crowned her. It was a full-circle moment. She still remembers the night they met for the first time; Dundee in 2016, some time in the early hours of the morning (she’d probably called it ‘bastard o’clock’ or something similar), coming out of the bar and being stopped by a boy in half-drag similar ages with her who spoke rapidly and excitedly and told her that he’d messaged her about starting drag and she’d replied to him. The way realisation had dawned on her and the way she’d been her usual loud and boisterous self to cover up the fact she’d actually been quite bashful about the fact they were meeting for the first time.

There was no alternative, not least because of everything they’ve been through together; the years leading up to this moment and the rollercoaster it’s all been. She’s glad that they’re on a high because they’ve seen each other at their lows (been the cause of each others’ too, sometimes) and pulled through only slightly scathed, but always stronger. The producer had asked Lawrence who she’d wanted and when she, still speechless, had pointed in Ellie’s direction, seeing the tears start to stream down her face had only made Lawrence’s start all over again. They’d hugged- just the two of them this time- and the way Ellie had immediately felt like a safe place in the crazy chaos of reality reminded Lawrence so much of when they had filmed. The way even just hearing Ellie’s voice would stop her feeling homesick, the way she was a living comfort blanket.

She’d never tell that to Ellie, of course, because she’d never hear the end of it if she did.

It’s been a couple of hours and Lawrence is expecting everything to suddenly sink in any minute now. Something will click like the last piece of a puzzle and she’ll finally accept that she’s won, that the whole thing isn’t a giant and premature April fools’ prank. She turns her phone over in her hand, wondering what all this nervous energy is doing to her body chemistry. She’s got messages from her family, her friends, Kiko, the girls she works with back home. Well…some of them. But apart from reading them and frantically replying, Lawrence hasn’t checked anything else; hasn’t opened Twitter or Instagram, where the notifications are piling up like pizza leaflets through a letterbox and are equally as unwanted. If she thinks about them she can feel her stomach twist, wrung out like a wet towel.

Forty thousand likes. The Team Bimini tweet had forty thousand likes. What did her own get? Eight thousand? Lawrence thinks about the sheer scale of forty thousand people, compares it to the population of towns in Scotland. Almost Airdrie. Just under Coatbridge. She imagines a whole town of people, angry and furious and disappointed, and all of them tweeting her to let her know exactly that. She remembers in high school when she thought the whole of Hermitage was against her. She wants to tell baby Lawrence that that was fucking small fry. A thousand kids? Try the sheer scale of Bimini’s fanbase. Her breath is shaky when she tries to breathe in, like her lungs have reduced in size. It reminds her of that time in school camp when they all had to jump from a pier for some unknown-fucking-reason, how freezing the water had been and how her chest felt tight as she gasped for air. Lawrence supposes it was character building in the sense that it prepared her exactly for how anxiety would make her feel later in life.

In for four. Hold for five. Out for six.

“There she is!”

An ever so slightly slurred and wobbly voice breaks Lawrence’s reverie, and when she looks up she sees Ellie approaching her, a little unsteady even in the flats she’s changed into with a glass of prosecco in each hand. It says a lot that even at the top of a helter-skelter of an anxiety spiral, Lawrence’s heart still gives a little swell when she sees her friend. Ellie has always been able to make her feel better. She feels an almost silly sense of relief that she’s here.

Lawrence takes one last little breath in before plastering a small smile to her face. “Awrite? Where’s Mumma Diamond?”

“In her room conked out. Just got back from putting her to bed, she couldn’t hack it. Letting down the family name, that one,” Ellie huffs, sliding into the booth and squashing up right beside Lawrence, even though there’s enough space for two metres distance even if they had still been under strict instructions from the BBC.

“Tayce?” Lawrence asks, gratefully accepting the prosecco glass and hurriedly downing a too-big gulp in an attempt to calm herself down.

“Facetiming A’whora. Of course.”

“Of course. Maybe a bottle and a half of prosecco is gonny be the love potion she never knew she needed.”

“Fuck, we can only hope,” Ellie grins, already laughing through her words. “If we’re gonna be touring with them I don’t wanna have to karate chop through five layers of sexual tension every time I have to walk past them.”

Lawrence chuckles, tired but humoured and unable to not make the so-obvious joke. “You couldny fight sleep.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’ll fight you in a minute!” Ellie nudges her with her shoulder and spills both of their prosecco from the glasses in their hands. The gesture is affectionate and out of place with the impending threat. “Where’s Bims? Thought they were with you.”

Lawrence shrugs. “Went out for a smoke with one of the runners about twenty minutes ago and never returned.”

“Good for them. Always thought there’s something inherently sexy about a winch in a back alley.”

“Well, you would know.”

“Eh, so would you!” Ellie cries, nothing short of incredulously offended. Her expression makes her look even more like a cartoon character than usual, and it’s entirely too endearing.

“Yeah, forgot that popular phrase. It takes two to winch in a back alley,” Lawrence jokes, but her heart isn’t in it. It’s too heavy and her ribcage feels like someone laced her into a corset and pulled it too tight. She’s hoping Ellie is too drunk to notice.

Ellie sips her prosecco with her eyes on her, then scrutinises her as she swallows it. She frowns, her nose wrinkling up as she prods Lawrence with an acrylic-nail finger. “What’s up?”

Fuck.

“The sky,” Lawrence says without conviction, and the raised eyebrow Ellie gives her in return is enough to unlock her. She deflates like a balloon and brings her phone up so Ellie can see it, turning it over in her hands. “Just…as happy as I am, and as much as this is all a dream come true…I keep psyching myself up to open any social media, and I can’t, because this one fucking brain cell of anxiety keeps telling me that everyone out there hates me and hates the fact I’ve won.”

Ellie’s face falls into a frown. She gently pries the phone out of her hands and places it on the table, takes one of Lawrence’s free hands in hers and rubs her thumb over her knuckles. “But all your other brain cells know that’s wrong.”

Lawrence sighs. “So why’s that one louder than all the rest?”

Ellie presses her lips together in a badly-suppressed smile. She’s giggling as she speaks. “Because you’ve only got two brain cells.”

Lawrence splutters a laugh, shoving Ellie with her free hand. The other is still laced together with hers. As the laughter dies down and the momentary serotonin wears off, Lawrence can feel her brow furrowing involuntarily. “Forty thousand people wanted Bimini to win, Ellie. Forty thousand. You know that’s like a whole town? That’s like the population of Coatbridge?”

“ Fuck Coatbridge!” Ellie exclaims, affronted, and her shock and insistence makes Lawrence snort all over again. “Okay, forty thousand people is a town but really, what’s that to the rest of the world? Think how tiny that is in the grand scheme of things, Lawrence! Honestly, give a fuck about what any bastard who wants to send you anything vile thinks of you! You’re so amazing! You won! Fuck everyone else!”

Lawrence wants to feel cheered up. The prosecco Ellie’s drunk is making her all the more animated and lively, giving her words a determination and a passion that her speech so rarely possesses most of the time. Ellie is calm, and she doesn’t get wound up easily. There’s something about the fact she’s growing this animated over getting Lawrence to believe in herself that warms her heart a little.

Then again…

“It’s not just that, though. There’s girls from home that haven’t even said well done. Girls I’ve always supported and couldn’t do enough for, and it’s like…really? You can’t be happy for me when I’ve actually managed to do the one thing I’ve wanted to do for years?”

“Well maybe they have said well done, and you’ve just not seen it because you’ve been hiding,” Ellie gestures matter-of-factly at her phone. It doesn’t convince her.

“They won’t have. You’ll know who I’m talking about, Ellie.”

Ellie sighs a little, clearly conceding that Lawrence is right. Her grip on her hand tightens a little, and when Lawrence looks up at her in response her blue eyes hold a glint of assurance.

“Well, even if they haven’t…fuck ‘em. Onwards and upwards, chick. You’ve got ten new sisters out of this who’re always going to know what it’s like, they’re gonna be here for you no matter what,” Ellie says comfortingly. Lawrence knows why she’s said ten and not eleven, but Ellie affirms this with another squeeze and a slightly shy smile. “And you’ve always got me. You’ve always had me.”

This is true. She’s always had Ellie. Before the show, doing gigs with her and hanging out with her and going to DragCon with her. On the show, always there to reassure her or pull her out of a negative spiral or just lean against her shoulder and squeeze her hand. And after the show. Whatever that might look like. Whatever that might be.

She supposes that neither of them know yet.

“C’mon,” Ellie says decisively, holding out a hand for her as the song changes. It’s some sort of Paolo Nutini dirge, and Lawrence has to laugh at how obviously whoever is in charge of the music has rushed to attempt to find something Scottish. Lawrence can only blink at Ellie’s outstretched hand.

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Come on! ” Ellie laughs. Lawrence doesn’t know if she’s blushing or if it’s just the lights.

But she does know that she can’t leave Ellie hanging when she’s looking at her like that.

So Lawrence lets herself be dragged out to the dancefloor and pulled into a hug as Ellie sways them left to right ever-so-slightly out of time with the song, tipsy and full of affection given the way her arms are locked around Lawrence’s waist. It should feel stranger than it does. In reality, being held by Ellie feels as simple as just existing.

Or perhaps simpler than that, given the fact that Lawrence’s existence feels entirely surreal right now.

“You have to be in drag for half past se-ven,” Ellie sing-songs, bringing one of her arms out from around Lawrence’s waist and tapping her on the nose. Lawrence immediately misses it, so it’s a relief that it’s not gone for long.

“Because I wo-on,” Lawrence imitates back to her, and the way Ellie squeezes her waist in response and affirmation causes a smile and a blush to bloom on her face without her even being to control it. She rests her head against Ellie’s chest so she can’t have the satisfaction (ammunition) of seeing how she makes her feel.

It’s little moments like that that she needs right now. Anchors to keep her down on earth, to let her know that this isn’t just some really prolonged lucid dream and it’s all actually happening because currently reality is so absurdly ridiculous; she’s just won Drag Race and she’s slow-dancing with Ellie to the song that’s blasting through the speakers in the background, a parody of some American high school prom where she’s just been crowned the queen.

Moments like these- where Ellie’s holding her close as if she’s literally trying to protect her from the world- remind her that not everybody is against her. Not everybody hates her. Not everybody is wishing her a slow and painful death because Bimini didn’t win, least of all them. She knows that Ellie was never able to share what team she was on even though she hadn’t had a chance at the crown, but she didn’t have to. Not really. They’ve always been on each others’ team.

Ellie jolts Lawrence out of her daydream with the way her chest is shuddering, and Lawrence momentarily thinks she’s crying again before her soft giggle becomes audible over the music.

“What?” Lawrence tilts her head up, meeting Ellie’s scheming, smirking face.

“Can’t believe RuPaul Charles asked if you wanted to move to London, city of dreams, city of a thousand opportunities…” Ellie begins, Lawrence already laughing as she knows what the conclusion to her sentence will be. “…and you said, ‘yer awrite pal, am fine in Glesga wi the jakes an’ the Blue Lagoon chippy an’ the guy that stands on Buchanan Street and yells at everyone that they’re going to hell!’ ”

Lawrence would normally roll her eyes at Ellie’s impersonation of her accent, but she’s laughing too much at the joke that’s forming in her head to commit to it. “RuPaul asked if I wanted to move to London, and I said…”

The pair of them are almost giggling too much to get the punchline out, Ellie clocking on to how it’s going to end. In sync, the pair of them splutter out a “… NNNNAAW! ”

Giddy and happy, Lawrence rests her cheek against Ellie’s chest again. “London’s got junkies too, anyway.”

“This is gonna sound really selfish, but…don’t actually move to London,” Ellie’s voice murmurs from above her, and there’s something plaintive to it that makes Lawrence refrain from replying with a joke or a barb like she normally would. The way Ellie follows it up cements that fact. “It would probably be so good for you, but like…Glasgow would be lost without you, genuinely. And so would I.”

Lawrence can’t cry again tonight, even if it’s only because she thinks it’s physically impossible, so she just squeezes Ellie tight until she worries about her ability to breathe. “I’m not going anywhere, hen.”

Lawrence doesn’t even really know what they are, her and Ellie. They both still have Grindr and they talk about their hookups and raised hopes and broken hearts with each other like friends. But they’re not really just that. They’re affectionate, and they open up to each other with the same shared unspoken understanding of something Lawrence doesn’t understand. They hug for too long and cuddle up to each other when they’re together, and Lawrence can’t count the amount of times during filming that she’d find strength in the way Ellie would squeeze her hand without a word. They’ve woken up together too many times (why she’d felt the need to remind Ellie of that while the cameras were rolling, she’ll never know) and kissed each other more than that. Every time they say I love you they mean it, but they also mean a little bit more. There’s no butterflies or fast pulses or fluttering hearts- they’re past that stage. Everything is just natural and normal and easy.

She wonders if they’ll ever put a label on what they have. There’s a part of her that doesn’t ever want to.

“If we’re both still single by the time we’re forty,” Lawrence begins, leaning back to look at Ellie through her glazed, half-drunk half-tired eyes. “…we should just say ‘fuck it’ and get married.”

(She doesn’t even know if it’s a joke or not.)

Ellie laughs as if it is and nods as if it isn’t. “Drag wedding. We’d need to upstage Tayce and A’whora, though.”

Lawrence realises something. “I’ll turn forty two years before you.”

There’s a pause as the song starts to fade out, and it makes Ellie’s murmur seem louder than it is. “That’s okay. We don’t need to wait for me.”

The jolt her words give Lawrence’s heart and the way Ellie’s talking as if it’s an actual plan makes her think maybe it wasn’t really ever a joke after all. It’s ridiculous though, and it’s all theoretical, and it’s a totally hypothetical scenario, and they’re both drunk , for Christ’s sake. So Lawrence pulls out of Ellie’s arms and takes her hands in her own, the song that’s started playing more upbeat and the opening chords inciting some sort of hope and optimism in her heart for the future that’s unfolding for the pair of them.

“One more song then bed?” she suggests. Ellie raises her eyebrows as she looks down at her.

“Whose bed?”

“Shut the fuck up, Dirty Diamond,” Lawrence shoots back without missing a beat, and as the first lines of the song fill the room she leans back and begins to spin the pair of them in a circle, both of them laughing as if everything is as simple as just that room, and the music blaring out from the speakers, and the lights flashing above them drenching them in purple and pink.

[bookspined]

❝ that’s all history is after all: scar tissue. ❞

{ cis-man, he/him }  huh, who’s FROY GUTIERREZ? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually SCORPIUS MALFOY. he is a TWENTY-TWO year old PUREBLOOD wizard who is A HEALING APPRENTICE. he is known for being CAPTIOUS, RETICENT, FACETIOUS, DISMISSIVE, and DRAMATIC but also RESOURCEFUL, CONSCIENTIOUS, FERVENT, INNOVATIVE, and OBSERVANT, so that must be why he always reminds me of the song IN DREAMS BY BEN HOWARD. i hear he is aligned with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX, so be sure to keep an eye on him. { merry, 24, gmt, she/they }

CHARACTER PARALLELS: Amy Santiago (B99), Claire Temple (Daredevil), Chidi Anagonye (The Good Place), Giles (Buffy TVS), Michelle Jones (MCU), Simon Tam (Firefly), Elizabeth Swan (PoTC), Spock (Star Trek), Clarke Griffin (The 100), Harley Keener (MCU), Gregory House (House) suggested honorable mention Gizmo (Gremlins) 

pinterest [blood, medical imagery tw]

wanted connection ideas

Full Name: Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy Gender/Pronouns: Cis man | he/him Age: Twenty-three Birthdate: January 20th Parents: Draco Lucius Malfoy & Astoria Céline Malfoy (née Greengrass) [Not biologically Astoria’s due to her health, if you ever point this out he’ll flay your eyeballs] Siblings: N/A. Birth place: St. Mungo’s Hospital, England Height: 5’11” Weight: 56 kg Sexual/Romantic Orientation: Demiromantic Bisexual Nationality: British Body Alterations/Marks: A ragged diamond shape scar at the base of his throat.

Blood Status: Pureblood Hogwarts House: Slytherin Wand Arm: Right Pet: His pet toad, Jarvis, recently passed away. Patronus: Arctic Fox Wand: 11 2/3 inches, Willow, Supple, Dragon Heartstring.

Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. While many confident customers insist on trying a willow wand (attracted by their handsome appearance and well-founded reputation for enabling advanced, non-verbal magic) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn. It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow.

Personality Traits: Brilliance, innovative, empathetic, individuality, openness, social consciousness, inventive, logical, practical skills and self assertion; lack of attachment to people outside his circle and the “real world,” over-intellectualizing of the emotions, dismissive, anxious, crotchety tempered, facetious, rigid, prone to self-isolation, intellectual arrogance, and stubborn. Zodiac Sign: Aquarius/Capricorn Cusp Moral Alignment: Neutral Good Core values: Loyalty, Knowledge, Hope Four temperaments: Melancholic  

HOGWARTS HOUSE ANALYSIS

Slytherin Primary and a Burned Ravenclaw Secondary.

Slytherin Primaries prioritize their own selves and loved ones first. Slytherins don’t feel guilty or selfish about this– they feel righteous and moral. The most important thing is to look after your own. Abandoning or hurting one of your own is the worst thing you can do.

A Burned Ravenclaw Secondary might want to be skilled, curious, and prepared, but they feel like they are (or like people think they are) limited, clumsy, or inconstant. Gathering knowledge, hobbies, skills, or tools is the right way to achieve their goals, but Burned Ravenclaws know that’s not going to work within their capabilities. So they take other paths and use other tools– maybe a Gryffindor’s bluntness, a Slytherin’s flexibility, or a Hufflepuff’s slow and steady dedication.

You may have a Hufflepuff Secondary Model.

Hufflepuff is the House of grit, reliability, and determination, and Hufflepuffs use those values to help live, act, and succeed. If you model Hufflepuff Secondary, you also value these things and like to live by them. You like to be hardworking, dedicated, and consistent– but you wouldn’t feel guilty for abandoning those values in the service of other, higher priorities. If there’s another, easier way to get what you want– you’d take it. You think hard work provides valuable rewards– and those rewards are why you work. The work doesn’t have persuasive value in itself.

Despite his very best resistance he’s always been pretty empathetic in nature, he tries to rule his emotions as well as he can but fails more often than not. He was always one of those toddlers that if another kid started crying he’d be right along with them, not because he wanted attention but because he just couldn’t not. A bit of a crybaby, has researched how to magically seal up his tear ducts. Obviously managed to keep the family’s flair for the dramatic there as well. After a few years he leant into the sarcastic vague-snobbishness to hide the core of overwhelming anxiety.

Just managed to scrape through his schooling with nearly all top grades, this isn’t really due to him being a model student. He has always accrued information with a voracious appetite. Any knowledge he could find, even if most people would consider it entirely useless. His mind clicks into that place? You can’t keep him away. However, when there is not an immediate stir of interest on his approach to a topic he has to fight with himself tooth and nail to carry on. 

Predictably found exam season highly stressful, was never open about it but was quietly competitive and silently smug over his good grades. Could comprehend well above his reading level from an early age and would often look into experimental research and complicated magic but found himself lost in OWL level History of Magic when chapter upon chapter lay ahead of him about something that didn’t catch his interest. Some people he beat just to spite cause he hates them. It worked, whatever.

Tends toward introversion and finds himself tired sometimes quite easily by a large amount of social interaction. Witty and big-mouthed when he feels comfortable or is in the presence of those that embolden him and very likely to get flustered and snap at people when things are becoming a bit too much. Especially if he feels however unjustly that someone is blocking his escape. Has matured slightly in this since leaving school but it happens still, he’s just anxious. Quite fickle and can at the drop of a hat decide that he’s done with you for the day once his Give Me Attention Meter is maxed. Could be an absolute bloody brat when he felt like it but feels he has grown out of it, which he mostly has.

Always been very, very aware of many people’s distrust of him and his family, he used to sneer and play it up if anyone tried to bring up his dad and go on the offensive but was genuinely affected quite deeply by it all. In his early school years, despite his weakness to the cold, he constantly had his sleeves rolled up to the elbow so that his blank forearm was bared as a statement to just about everyone. I am not marked, I never will be. Now he’s older he has more of a handle on things and can be diplomatic in situations where people are clearly discomforted by his presence and his family history.

Even though the war culminated far earlier in this verse I imagine Scor would have had to have been relatively sheltered as a child if not for how emotionally sensitive and prone to periods of ill-health he was, it was definitely for his own safety. He is still the grandson of a known high-ranking Death Eater and that made him a media target and put one on his back for anyone else that might happen to be watching. 

Never produced much of a talent for offensive magic and wouldn’t resort to those methods unless he had literally no other choice, not a front line fighter by any means. His talents with strategy, potion-making, healing and his perseverance with defensive magic are what define him to the Order. While everyone kind of knows who he hung out with at school and who his friends are he is deliberately very mischievous with releasing rumours and misleading people. He deliberately keeps his cards very close to his chest so most people don’t know that he is aligned with anyone, he usually uses glamours or a scarf to conceal his identity if he has to. 

While he is knowledgeable about healing and anatomy, he is the WORST at taking care of himself. The literal embodiment of Healers make the worst patients, tends to forgo sleep and basic bodily needs if he’s locked into what he’s focusing on. Sometimes needs reminders to sleep and eat, like a child. 

Healing is the most satisfying part of his life and he would never give it up, he likes to experiment as he has a fascination with magic and muggle science and where they might intersect. A fucking nerd honestly. While he thinks he’s being fairly subtle about it a large part of his academic life has been doused in research into blood maledictions, for obvious reasons. He does his best not to flutter too obviously around his Mum. She is capable and ten times stronger than he is. 

Lives in a small studio flat in Diagon Alley that is mostly stacks of books and makeshift shelves.

the stillness of the world the moment you take the first step into fresh snow, cashmere and fine wool, the pearlescence of dreamless sleep draught, the scratch of a quill on parchment, faintly tremoring fingers, a shiver up your spine in a warm room, the exhilaration of a problem solved, a thunderous grey overcast sky, the bite of a stitching charm, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, petrichor, the burn in your eyes before a well of tears.

Always had somewhat fragile health tending toward sickly. Hands are never warm, his existence is an endless heat seeking mission. 

Went to one Slug Club meeting and used his time to verbally berate and or challenge most of the contacts in attendance, he was not asked to return. 

Potions Club, Charms Club, used to sometimes be willing to be dragged to Dueling Club but didn’t enjoy himself. 

Plays quite a bit of chess.

Bruises like a fucking peach and scars so easily.

Views quidditch as a good fly spoiled. 

Is a very skilled pianist almost entirely due to his Grandmother’s tutelage. 

Surprisingly great with children/toddlers/babies, no one including himself expected this, he mostly feared them beforehand. 

Bit of a mummy’s boy in that he practically GLOWS when people talk of Astoria’s achievements. 

When he has time off from healing he will have chipped black nail varnish on. 

Highly intelligent but rarely manages to match a pair of socks, chews his quills but no one else’s. 

While very eloquent and well spoken, he is markedly less posh than when he first arrived at Hogwarts.

When he isn’t prone to bouts of insomnia he can take a nap pretty much anywhere. He was once found in a tree after several frantic hours search.

[ CREDIT : CHARACTER PSD template by @karmahelper (defunct url) I tried to find a current social this week by messaging around but couldn’t find anything unfortunately. Forgot to copy this over from the google doc! ]