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omgsomeonesomewhereonearth · 4 years ago

Text

I’ll Write This Scene a Thousand Times - Ch2

AO3 || Chapter 1

Ship: Moceit (Janus/Patton)

Warnings: Arguing, smoking mention character outed before they're ready.

Summary: Patton and Janus get into an argument. Feelings are hurt, and then they are shared.

Taglist: Technically, I don't have one yet, but I'm tagging some people from the first chapter who seemed interested in reading more. If you want to be added or removed, send me an ask or message.

@iclaimedtobethebetterbard @princess-rosie @symphony-soldier-29 @stardustsides @ent-is-undecisive @roka-logical-lies @ifyouhadntbutyoudid @3-has-charm @moceit

...

“Come on, try to be more cute!”

His new pretend paramour was turning out to be quite the demanding director. Janus pursed his lips, leaning idly against Patton’s incredible cozy couch cushions as he watched him tilt his phone this way and that, trying to find the most natural angle for a staged relationship announcement.

“You wound me, Patton,” he deadpanned, “I was under the impression you already found me rather cute.” Patton glared - no, that was the wrong word. Something incredibly intrinsic in the nature of Patton didn’t quite allow him to ‘glare’. Patton pouted at him in the selfie camera, freckled cheeks puffing out in frustration.

Clearly, he didn’t have much trouble with that particular direction, Janus mused.

“Why can’t you just smile?”

“I am smiling.”

“You’re smirking!”

“Same thing.”

Patton made a very petulant noise indeed, “This needs to be believable!”

“You’re mistaken if you think anything where I’m-” he shuddered, “-smiling, will be remotely believable.”

Then he caught a look at Patton’s face. As funny as it was to wind him up, Janus wasn’t sure he wanted to see him actually crack today.

“Alright, look, why don’t you come closer?” he coaxed, shifting slightly and encouraging Patton to lean against him, draping his arm around his shoulder

“There you go, how sickeningly adorable are we?”

Within the frame of the selfie, they were adorable. Patton’s honey brown curls and fluffy white sweater were the perfect contrast against his fitted black button down - ofcourse, he already knew that, they’d chosen their outfits ahead of time. To anybody who couldn’t feel the stiffness in Patton’s shoulders, they probably looked like the perfect couple.

“Okay… you ready?”

Just as the countdown ticked to one, Janus turned his head and pressed a quick kiss against Patton’s cheek.

The camera clicked.

Patton whipped around to face him immediately after, cheeks darkening, “You - I didn’t know you were going to do that!”

Janus grinned, reaching for his wrist.

“And this is exactly why,” he replied in a voice not entirely devoid of smugness. The picture had been caught before Patton had had the chance to react, still smiling widely as Janus leaned over to kiss him, “You’re welcome.”

Patton blushed harder, spluttering slightly and quickly prying his wrist out of Janus’ grip, scooting back as far as the couch would allow. Janus let him go, following the embarrassed motion with his eyes.

Once he was at what he apparently deemed a safe distance away, Patton mumbled, “It is quite a good picture, actually. Better than any of the others we’ve taken today, anyway.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said it was quite good, actually-”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t quite catch you saying that, would you mind -”

“Oh stop it!” the corner’s of Patton’s mouth twitched in what Janus chose to interpret as a smile.

He rose to his feet, feeling rather good about himself, “Well, now I suppose you can send that along to Logan for approval and we can be done here then? Er - not that this hasn’t been fun, or whatever.” he amended hastily. Nailed it.

“Oh, um - actually…”

Janus groaned, “I swear to God if you tell me we have to take another set of photos, ‘just in case’-”

“It’s not that,” Patton said quickly, “I was hoping we could talk.”

“Well, you’d better make it quick,” Janus drawled, “I do have actual engagements outside of this, you know.”

The words came out in a moment of pettiness and he regretted them almost immediately, partly because they weren’t remotely true - unless mooching around at his home counted as an ‘outside engagement’.

But as he said them, Patton deflated, his eyes downcast, his mouth drawing in to form a silent, plaintive ‘oh’.

“That’s okay!” he covered up quickly, as if he thought Janus hadn’t noticed his disappointment, “It was silly anyway, you don’t have to-”

“No no no, it’s quite okay,” Janus interjected hastily, “I can always take out the time for you, dear.”

Right, yes, flirt Janus. I’m sure that’ll somehow not make you the asshole here.

Patton gave him a wan smile. He gestured for Janus to sit, and he did, careful to leave space between them now that the camera had been put away. He watched Patton fidget for a few minutes as he tried to find the words he wanted to say.

“-So the night we… well, met, so to speak,”

Ah. Janus winced internally - he’d been wondering if Patton would want to have this conversation for a while now, and had dearly hoped he never would. Externally, he smirked. “Yes, I would say we were rather ‘well met’ - I’m glad you think so too.”

Instead of the frustrated groan that he was expecting, a burst of tiny, adorable laughter spilled out of Patton’s lips. Patton seemed just as surprised as him, lifting his hand to cover his mouth even as his shoulders shook and his dark eyes crinkled with delight.

It was hard not to smile back, with a laugh like that, especially when it had been his own idiotic joke that had caused it.

“That was quite funny,” Patton admitted as his giggles tapered off.

It had been terrible, but Janus wasn’t one to look compliment horses in the mouth. “Thank you, I try.”

Patton’s face sobered far too soon, “Um, did you - do you remember anything? From then, I mean?”

“I…” Janus considered, “I remember enough.”

The memories were hazy, though. He remembered leaving the premiere, going to get a drink. He remembered catching sight of an absolute vision in pale blue, gazing with wide, curious eyes at his surroundings, smiling and waving self consciously when he’d noticed Janus watching him. He couldn’t for the life of him remember what they’d talked about.

He hadn’t even known who Patton was, at the time, though he’d assumed he was at least semi-famous, given the usual clientele of the club.

“D’you - do you remember what I was acting like?” Patton asked haltingly, “Was I normal, I mean?”

Janus paused. He thought about the man he’d met , who laughed loudly and carelessly, who followed him eagerly to the dancefloor. Who looked at him like he would follow him anywhere, if Janus asked. He thought about the man he’d woken up next to, who’d been skittish, panicking, shrinking into himself when Janus so much as looked at him.

He thought about the way he’d felt when Patton laughed at his dumb joke.

“I’ve known you for about three days and you’ve been either tipsy or highly stressed for all of them,” he replied in a measured voice, “I’m hardly the person to ask how ‘normal’ you were acting.”

Patton nodded, though he seemed disappointed, his brow knit in confusion.

“It’s just - I don’t remember anything,” he started, voice strained, “I’ve gone over it so many times and I still can’t understand why I did it!”

Janus’ gut twisted far harder than it should have.

“Oh, thank you so much,” he snapped.

“That’s not fair,” Patton snapped back with just as much wounded ferocity, “You know what I mean - I’ve never done anything like that! I’m not like that, I stay out of trouble-”

“-Not like what, exactly?” Janus interrupted, narrowing his eyes, “Or should I say, ‘not like whom’?”

“Janus-”

Stop, he should stop, remove himself from the situation, calm down.

Janus had gotten to his feet without realising it.

“‘Stay out of trouble?’” he hissed, “We are grownups, have you considered that we shouldn’t be getting into ‘trouble’ for having consensual sex in the first place-”

“Of course I’ve considered it, but that doesn’t change the fact that we do, and we did!” Patton protested, “I’m just being realistic here, we both chose to be in this industry-”

Janus scoffed.

“And maybe you don’t care, but I-” Patton spoke right over him, “think I have a responsibility to behave-”

“Behave?” Janus laughed bitterly.

“You’re misunderstanding me-”

“Oh no, I think I understand just fine,” he interrupted, “I’m so sorry I led you astray, I assure you it won’t happen again.”

“I- I know it won’t?” Patton replied, dumbfounded, “Janus, I’m not trying to fight with you-”

“Well in that case, perhaps I should take my leave.” Janus cut in.

Patton looked dismayed, “Maybe that’s for the best, yeah,” he muttered eventually. He didn’t get up to show Janus the door.

Janus thought about slamming it behind him, but decided it would be rude and uncouth.

Besides, it would be far more satisfying to leave it open so that Patton would have to get up and close it. He was at the end of the corridor before he heard it click quietly closed.

He didn’t turn around.

…

Janus was mooching around in his flat. Janus was definitely not thinking about Patton as he did so.

Had he been about to cry, when he left? He wouldn’t have noticed at the time, what with his own anger, but the idea that Patton might have cried after he walked out made his heart clench.

Because that was fair, he grumbled to himself. It wasn’t like he’d said anything wrong, he was right - this whole charade they’d gotten trapped in, it was unnecessary and ludicrous, and it wasn’t his fault - wasn’t either of their faults.

God, he needed a smoke.

Just as he was reaching for the box hidden in his bedside drawer - why were they hidden, he lived alone - his phone buzzed. He’d been tagged in an image by @patton.theheart on Instagram. Ah yes. Even if they were both seething and furious at each other, the dance continued.

“Three perfect months with @totally_notalyre - we’re both so excited to finally share our relationship with you all!!! <3 <3 <3”

The comments were already flooding in, row after row of overwhelming positivity, keyboard smashing and heart emojis. Janus scrolled through them impassively, stopping to smirk at the ones raving about how attractive he was - well, he never claimed to be a modest man.

Then he saw one that made his blood run cold.

“So proud of you Patton!”

Followed by several rainbows.

And several more:

“I’ve been a fan of you since you were like, 16 and I’m so happy to finally see you living your truth!”

“Well done Patton! Don’t worry - your true fans will stick by you no matter what!”

“Thank you so much for sharing your true self with us, Patton <3”

The memories of the past few days, every version of Patton that lived in his head, flashed before Janus’ eyes in a very different light, ending with him cross legged on his couch, biting his inner cheek as he listened to Janus berate him.

He definitely needed a fucking smoke now. No he didn’t - he needed to call Patton, he needed to talk to him, to ask him - to ask him what? They were barely friends, and he’d just spent the afternoon yelling at him, what right did he have to demand answers?

“Calm down, Lyre,” he growled to himself, “Just call the man, be calm and subtle; you need to apologise to him if nothing else.”

“Hello?” Patton had picked up on the first ring. Did his voice sound subdued over the phone? Or teary?

“You weren’t out,” Janus blurted out clumsily. So much for subtle.

“I’m sorry?”

“When we had our… ‘encounter’,” he clarified, “You were still closeted?”

“Oh, that,” Patton replied flatly. He could practically hear him fidgeting over the phone, “Well technically, I wasn’t exactly closeted, I was just - trying to avoid talking about it until I was ready.”

“ …I’m so sorry.”

“No, no - it’s okay!” Patton said hastily, “I mean, maybe not ‘okay’, but looking on the bright side - I was planning on coming out in a few months from now anyway! So, you know, technically this took the pressure off!”

Despite his cheery tone, Janus got the feeling Patton didn’t quite believe himself. He definitely didn’t believe him. “You had one planned?” he asked.

“Well yeah, actually!” Patton admitted, “Technically, it’s still gonna happen - I’m gonna be releasing an album where I sort of share my experiences and feelings and stuff, so it’s not like I lost anything, I guess.”

You lost the right to control your own damn narrative, Janus didn’t retort, because he knew fully well that Patton knew that, he was just a relentless, infuriating optimist.

“Um… Janus?” Patton’s voice cut through his thoughts, “Just by the way - I’m not technically supposed to tell many people, so please just keep that quiet because I think Logan is already quite cross at me anyway?”

“Done,” Janus chuckled. Then he drew in a breath, ready to address the difficult part of this call, “Regarding my conduct earlier today - I believe I might owe you an apology.”

“No you don’t.” Patton responded quickly, far firmer than he’d ever been, at least with Janus.

“Patton-”

“You don’t,” he repeated, “Yeah, I mean - you could have been nicer, but you were right, and I said some less than nice things too! But, you know - when you sorta grow up in this industry, it becomes a bit hard to know which bits are normal and which bits are kinda…messed up? And our little spat today, it really kind of reminded me, so if anything, maybe I should thank you!”

“You should not.”

“Well-”

“If you can forbid me from apologising, I can forbid you from thanking me.”

“Yeah, okay, fair enough!” Patton’s giggle was just as infectious over the phone and Janus felt the corners of his mouth lift against his will.

“Ahem - well, lovely talking to you, as always, but I ought to get going now.”

“Goodnight Janus.”

“…Goodnight, Patton.”

#moceit #patton sanders #janus sanders #ts janus #ts patton #sanders sides #ts sides #sanders sides fanfiction #my writing #i'll write this scene a thousand times

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chundertracker · 3 years ago

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op of the Riven post here—to answer your question, it is "not at all".

warning for a somewhat long read, i do apologise for that. (i hope this ask does not come across in a scolding/condescending tone, i am just a lore-enjoyer.)

Ahamkara, as beings with transformative properties that allow them to change shape as they please, historically have appeared according to, excluding the times where they do it of their own volition, either: what another individual asks of them to transform into (an example being, during the Great Hunt, the Warlock Gallida asked of an Ahamkara to turn into a Vex structure she could draw—i believe this in of itself is a form of Wish-granting to feed off), and what another individual expects an Ahamkara to look like or become, essentially being influenced by the perception of a person. the latter is the answer i come with for why Riven looks... like That(tm).

in the lorepiece "Savin-Who-Was-Chao-Mu", Riven "[...] had begun to salivate, and to assume a form more like the Guardian expected: monstrous and befanged." essentially, Savin, as a Guardian, expected this creature to be monstrous.

the reason i mention specifically that he is a Guardian is that i believe, in their habitual nature of killing the strange and monstrous, their coining of the term "Wish Dragon" may be in of itself due to how they perceive such an incredible and slayable beast to look like and thus how the Ahamkara appeared to the first Guardians to encounter them, and subsequent Guardians to come.

due to this, i strongly believe that the form Riven takes in Last Wish is influenced by the fireteam's expectation of what they will attempt to kill. certainly, it is also influenced by Riven being Taken, perhaps there is a factor of uncontrollability in her appearance, but i theorise that for the most part her shape is influenced by the Guardians.

this is only a theory, the rest before these two paragraphs is written in lore as cited ("Savin-Who-Was-Chao-Mu" is the last entry in the "The Dreaming City" lorebook, the part about of the Great Hunt is in the lore description for the "Apex Predator" rocket launcher).

ah, i hope this was not too long of a read, it is just a concept i find interesting to explore. Riven's design is quite intricate, and i do see that a lot of care and reference went into it.

some visual citations if you do not want to have to search for them:

"Savin-Who-Was-Chao-Mu" (The Dreaming City) and "Apex Predator" (Rocket Launcher), respectively.

and also two other examples, "Riven" (The Dreaming City) and "Tyranny of Heaven" (Bow). these ones merely serve to illustrate the free will an Ahamkara exhibits in transforming.

okay damn wait this is interesting as hell tho, thank you for responding to my silly tag question akshakahs

riven is nasty but i do love her, interesting to consider what an ahamkara’s “true” appearance might be, if they could even theoretically have one that isn’t influenced by what someone else expects them to look like

#destiny 2 #lore #like legitimately thank you for answering #i LOVE all the intricate lore that destiny has its fascinating #long post #riven was a girlboss who was gaslighting AND gatekeeping

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dracoisthebae · 4 years ago

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Oh you're a photographer? Cool! Question, what, in your opinion, is the best picture taken of each achievement hunter? Also, best AH photoshoot?

Part 1!!!! part 2 is under the tag AH photography analysis

Ok I am so excited to have been asked this!!!! These are in the order I come across them in my folder so no favourites unless I say one is my favourite. The numbers are just a reference. Some people may have more than one favourite because I couldn’t choose.

1. Matt

So this photo of Matt is particularly nice because it is framed to cut his feet out of the picture which stops a person from looking like they’re floating in nothing. The lighting on his face is nice, it’s no fancy studio lighting and the photo just seems really natural. The one hand in the pocket and the other on the phone is gorgeous, I’m a big lover of candids and candid style which is basically just natural looking poses rather than staged poses.

2. Jeremy

This is a good photo of Jeremy as its just him in the photo, what this means is that there’s no tie to height. Jeremy isn’t incredibly short but his height is mentioned a fair bit in videos but in this photo you have no gauge for his height. The posing is still natural while being a pose, his neck isn’t stretched in the way that a model who is doing fashion poses goes for, its at a natural level. The tilted head and lean on the van allow for some play between the model and the props that again, appears natural. As though you have walked up to him and began to take his picture and he’s giving you the middle finger. Lighting is gorgeous and I’m glad of the black and white choice because it draws you away from any glaring colours and specifically to Jeremy.

3. Trevor

The lighting. Absolutely gorgeous. The spotlight effect works brilliantly with this line of merch because the triangle seems to suggest some tie to the illuminati (that’s what I’m getting anywho) so the spotlight makes him feel important. The spread legs is a powerful pose, natural posing with the hands in the pocket one by the side. The colour choice on the gels works perfectly for his skin, a warmer gel works really well on him!

4. Gavin

So the sitting down photo, obeys the rule of thirds perfectly. They both do! Good choice on not keeping his legs in the photo for the sitting down one as the bent knees can sometimes look strange at this type of angle, lovely colour choice. I don’t know if these images are digital or film but this one has the feel of film with its yellow cast and harsh shadows and this works really well!

The ACHIEVE photo, excellent clothing choice with the hot pink vs grass green. They clash in a lovely way! Gavin looking off screen allows the focus to be more on the clothes rather than him. A common theme with AH photoshoots is the hands in them pockets! It’s a good pose for models who aren’t used to modelling! Works lovely! The placement of Gav within the frame allows the branding to be clear which is perfect for if this were on a Billboard.

5. Fiona

Fiona is the most experienced model, she knows what she’s doing and it shows! She experiments with dynamic poses and they work so well! The sitting down photo, the crossed legs with the one hand leaning on the legs while holding a prop while the other hand is touching her face but she isn’t looking at the prop, she’s looking at something else. This tells a story! There’s something distracting her! I’m undecided on wether the chair that is slightly in frame is worth being in the shot or not, that’s up to the photographer. Lighting is always perfect in these shoots! The yellow works lovely on her skin and the light has a warmer tone which again looks lovely.

The standing photo, this photo is pure dynamic posing. Looking at this photo alone you can tell that this photoshoot was about stretching and bending. The green hair works with the fact that the photo its self is a cooler toned photo, the styling on clothing is lovely because although she is mostly covered there’s still the rolling down of the joggers which makes it a bit more natural, as though she knew the joggers were too loose so she rolled them down ready.

6. Alfredo

This is my favourite Alfredo photo, it’s so natural. This is pure Alfredo! He’s talking and he’s emoting and the camera caught it beautifully! Well done to the photographer on this one! It’s difficult to make a photo look nice when it’s not planned and this one looks lovely! The sweat on his face tells you that he’s been busy, the mic suggests he’s on stage so he’s probably been talking onstage and probably playing some games. The fact that his raised arm has separated is good, so that you aren’t just seeing the front of his arm but the back as well!

7. Geoff

This is so Geoff. The photo seems natural. Like you just walked up to him in a pile of graffiti. It looks like he’s just hanging out and thinking to himself. Good choice of pose on this one with the arms on the legs. Excellent choice on cutting the foot out of the frame as it really makes the photo seem less posed, this kind of photo is one you WANT to seem natural and it does.

8. Jack

Jack is a smart guy, he likes rockets and he loves playing with Legos! This photo is such a good headshot, from this alone you can get some of his character, he’s funny from the raise of the brow, the line of his mouth makes him seem serious but his hair flicks bring some silly ness. Had his hand not been holding his glasses this would have been a much less interesting shot, it would have felt like one of those old tumblr photos where everyone raised their eyebrows, but instead he’s using his glasses as a prop to play with which makes it seem natural!

I will have to continue this in another part because I’ve hit a limit on pictures!!

Thank you so much for asking this!!!

#achievement hunter #rooster teeth #gavin free #jeremy dooley #jack pattillo #fiona nova #trevor collins #alfredo diaz #geoff ramsey #photoshoot #photography #ah photography analysis

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potahun · 3 years ago

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flkasjdf the way i didn't even know there was a (even if small) fandom for tsme on tumblr and here i've been, crying to my poor non-pokemon fans about literally the same four episodes for the past two years (which was when i first got back into xyz, i grew up on it, phased out of it, and then came back haha)

but anyways the content you've put out this month is incredible?? the fact that there ARE other people who love these episodes when most of my friends don't even know they exist 😭 you're actually the best omg you're super super talented btw i love your art and your writing which is. the next point ig?

because even though i'm not the hugest alain/steven fan (tho you're starting to sell me on it haha) i actually read for as many revolutions back when it was updating/incomplete? i subscribed because i really enjoyed it nonetheless (and your worldbuilding and lore was so SO cool) and because i'm starved for alain content haha but i thought you did an amazing AMAZING job writing him and his mental state post-canon and i actually made a private bookmark with some quotes i really liked, so tysm for writing and sharing that! just wanted to say that since i got too shy to leave an actual comment back then 😅

but anyways this is really long and i really just wanted to ask if tsme month is for you to answer asks and provide much, much appreciated content or if other people can/should use the tag too? again, i didn't even realize this fandom even existed until last night because i'm a dumbass so apologies if this is a very silly question 😂 but i did a drawing and i was wondering if that should go under the tag or if that's not allowed flaksdf

sorry for this likely incomprehensible ask but you're amazing and thank you so so much for your content and contributions i can't say that enough 😭😭

HOLY.

HOLY MOLY.

I am so

I mean first of all YES!!! tHere is a fandom! Small, but it exists (and I love it very much)! and alskjdlakjdlkajlthank you so much??? I know I am not really great at either, BUT I do have a lot of enthusiasm :DDDDD and willingness to put things out for tsme <3

And THANK YOU LOADS FOR READING ‘FOR AS MANY REVOLUTIONS’!!! <3333 AAAA I was very worried about writing alan’s mental state correctly, so that’s a huge relief to know you specifically enjoyed that part!! AND THE MADE-UP LORE!! AND WORLDBUILDING!!! AAAAA!!! The lore especially took me on a field trip, I had so much fun, but while drawing the trigrams and sequencing at 1am-ish I also distinctly remember myself thinking ‘wtf am I doing’ kasjdlkasjdk I still had tremendous fun tho. just the whole trigrams and dragon business was super fun to me THANK YOU!!

AND to tackle the last point: YESSSSSSSSSSS I started TSME Month just as an excuse to scream a lot, but you are MORE THAN WELCOME to use the ‘tsme month’ tag if you wish to! You don’t have to, of course, but are mooooore than welcome to!! I haven’t really scoured it until now because when I started it, I wasn’t truly expecting a response BUT I have been so, so, so happy to see that some people have also posted content tsme in the last few weeks :DDD I do go into the ‘tsme’ tag as well from time to time (among others), just to see if we have new content. All this to say if you do use the ‘tsme month’ tag, I would be thrilleddddd Anyone is welcome to join in the screaming about tsme <333 actually that would send me over the moon

the only question for me is whether people feel comfortable with ME reblogging such content with the ‘tsme month’ tag again tbh! I guess people can tell me directly if they prefer me not to? I would of course tag, in the reblog, that the art is by the original poster!

#anon #replies #tsme month #tsme #the strongest mega evolution #for as many revolutions #I guess I can put #incombustibleshipping #???#since it also concerns that fic :'D #thank you so much for reading it!!#I am already giddy at the prospect of new tsme art

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ihearthes · 4 years ago

Photo

Quarantine Christmas Part 1

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x y/n Rating: Fluff/Smut (Smut in Part 2) Word Count: 2826 (Part 1) Fiction Chalenge via @caitlin‘s fiction party via @sweetcreatureinthedark

December 23, 2020

My head spins as I haul my suitcase from the trunk, using two hands due to the heft of the dirty clothes inside. Setting it on the ground, I yank on the handle before grappling with the two shopping bags filled with presents, reaching back for the decorated Christmas tin that is filled with homemade cookies, fudge, and other delicacies baked by my colleagues at Apple Music.

Wrestling with my hands full, I close the trunk with an elbow, shivering in the chilly LA air. At the front door, I want to cry. Dammit. I could clearly remember that when Glenne had given me the code for the front door and the alarm, I placed them in my phone under her contact information.

“FUCK!” The primal scream is released from my lungs, likely scaring the neighbors if any of them are outside enjoying Christmas lights or having family celebrations on this Christmas Eve Eve. Balancing the tin of cookies on top of the suitcase, I set down the shopping bags to reach for my phone. My purse slips off my shoulder, knocking the container of sweets, and in the scramble to rescue them, I nearly fall head over heels into the bushes.

It isn’t until I punch in the numbers and drag my personal effects inside that it occurs to me that the alarm isn’t armed. Had Glenne and Jeffrey forgotten to punch in the code before they left for Palm Springs? Deciding I don’t care, I leave everything by the door as I drag my suitcase to the main floor laundry room, dumping everything in without regard to color or type of clothing. Since we’ve been working remotely the majority of the time for the last fucking nine months, “dressing up” encompasses blue jeans and the occasional blouse, but most of my clothing is sweatpants and t-shirts. Deciding washing the blue jeans and blouses with the sweatpants and t-shirts is the worst idea ever, I fish those out before pouring laundry detergent over the remaining garments and starting the washer.

Glancing down at the clothing currently on my body, it seems completely reasonable to drop them into the washer too. Stripping the t-shirt from my body, I toss it into the swirling water before adding my bra, socks, and leggings to the murky mix. Wearing only panties in the cool house makes my nipples bead.

Ha! I’m sure my nips are happy to get any action after almost a year with no dating of any sort because of the fucking pandemic. Which reminds me that I’ve forgotten my vibrator at home. Shit. Of all the things I don’t mind borrowing from Glenne, I do have a line I won’t cross.

Placing the tin of Christmas yummies on the kitchen counter, I grasp the handles of the two bags of gifts. It might be silly to put them under the tree since I’m the only one in the house, but it will make me feel better. More like I’m at home with my family in Indiana. Less like I’m stuck in quarantine in an empty house for my favorite holiday. Sniffling, I swipe at my nose with the back of my hand as I pad down the two steps into the living room to the tree.

Kneeling at the fake tree, I reach for the switch to turn on the lights. As the colors begin blinking, I carefully withdraw each present, reading the tag before gently placing the gift under the tree. Even my brother had sent a present through the mail which must mean he misses me his year. Right now, we should be challenging each other to the most ridiculous games to see who is the best. Inevitably, he would win some while I beat him at others until eventually we declare a tie. My mother would chastise us both with a grin on her face, implicitly encouraging us to continue our “reindeer games” as my father called them.

From behind me, I hear a shuffling sound. Hadn’t they taken Myles with them? No matter. I could use the company a dog would provide.

“Santa, you’ve changed!” a soft voice exclaims, and I jump, twisting around to find another human wearing sweatpants and a hoodie.

“It’s you!” Both voices exclaim simultaneously. “What the fuck are you doing here?” We both pause, “Stop saying what I’m saying!”

Out of breath, I stare at him. The Harry Styles. Fuck.

His eyes roam over my body, and it finally dawns on me that I’m wearing nothing but my Victoria’s Secret lace panties. Shit.

Pacing measuredly to the couch without openly cringing, I grasp a wool throw and wrap it around my chest regally like I’ve just exited the pool at some exotic locale near the equator. My shoulders straighten, and I face him openly.

“Are you joining Glenne and Jeffrey in Palm Springs?” My back is a board, and my tone is barely restrained.

“Nope.” His nonchalance combined with his truncated answer pisses me off, per usual.

“So you’re flying home, waiting here for your flight tonight?” The hopeful tone is obvious to me and probably to him as well.

“No.” Those green eyes of his rake over my nearly-naked body, and I shiver. From the cold of course. Jesus. Get your heads out of the gutter!

“Watering the plants prior to returning to the Soho?”

“Uh uh.”

Delayed dread begins to fill my stomach. “You mean --” I clear my throat -- “you’re staying here?”

“Yep.”

“Shit.” Running my hand through my hair, I ponder the impact and my next steps.

“You?” He asks politely, even though I know he doesn’t feel solicitude at this moment.

“Glenne told me I could stay here for a few days. I made arrangements for my place to be fumigated while I was in Indiana for Christmas.”

His raised eyebrow mocks me.

“I’m not going, though. Okay?”

“Why not?”

“Seriously? Where the fuck have you been, Styles? In case you didn’t know, there’s a global fucking pandemic, and all of Los Angeles is locked down. So no -- I am not getting on a plane with a bunch of potentially infected and contagious --” Emotion overwhelms me, and I have to stop and catch my breath. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I turn away from him so he can’t see the tears that form in my eyes.

“Whatever, Smith.”

“My name --” I draw myself up and gather my anger around me like a cloak -- “is not Smith.”

“Yeah, right. Which bedroom are you planning to sleep in?”

“Surely you’re not suggesting we both stay here?” Appalled, I stare at him with my mouth open. “I’ll get a hotel room.” When I realize my wardrobe is in the washing machine, I softly say, “As soon as my clothes are dry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Smith. We’ll share the space. It’s only a couple of days.”

“Excuse me!?” Anger wells up. “Only the most important days in the entire year!” Superiority makes me stand up fully to him. “Besides, I’ve been quarantining for months. No way do I want to share germs with you!”

“Oh please! As if you’ve got a monopoly on quarantining! I’m perfectly safe. We get tested every morning before we film. When was the last time you were tested?”

“Two days ago!” She’s at her boiling point. “Look, if we're both staying here together, then we’re just going to have to avoid each other. It’s a big house. We can do that.”

“Maybe once you put some clothes on,” Harry comments, smirking in that way he has where the left side of his mouth tilts up.

Mortified, I glance down at myself. Briefly I consider scurrying for Glenne’s closet, but I pause. Why should I rush away? Because he’s male? Because he was here first? Because he’s sexy as fuck and my panties can’t take anymore?

“Fine,” I respond as I brush past him like the Queen of England. “I’ll find something to wear, and then we can hash out the details.”

“Great plan. I’m ordering something for dinner.”

My stomach growls, and I suddenly feel an irrational hatred for that part of my body. How I long to state that I’ve already eaten or that I plan to cook something! But alas, I’ve brought no food with me, and I’ve no clue what’s in the kitchen. If Glenne and Jeffrey even left anything.

“Does that mean you’d like some too?” He gloats, and as much as I would like to smack the grin off his face, I’ve not eaten since a quick bite for breakfast hours before.

Knowing I’m going to have to grovel, I face him. “I’m capable of ordering for myself.”

“Yes, but that’s not necessarily good for the environment, is it? Sending two drivers to the same address from different restaurants?” Pausing, he appears to swallow whatever snarky comment was forthcoming. “Can we agree on this one small thing? I’m thinking poke.”

Shit. Fuck. Goddammit. That’s exactly what I would have ordered. Fuck.

Casually, I shrug. “Yeah, whatever. I can choke down some poke.” As I saunter away, tucking the ends of the makeshift shroud under my armpits, I call back to him, “Spicy please.”

Quickly I make my way to Glenne’s closet, surveying the items there. Ripping down a pair of joggers and a Full Stop Management hoodie, I drop the covering I’ve been wearing and rapidly draw the clothes over my naked body. Nothing I can do about not having a bra, but the hoodie is roomy so I worry less.

In the bathroom, I run my fingers through my hair, combing out the curls as best I can in this environment. In no way do I want it to appear that I’m trying to look amazing for Harry. Biting my lip, I admit to myself that the opposite is true. I absolutely want him to fall at my feet.

Which isn’t going to happen, I remind myself. Give up the ghost of a fantasy.

Making eye contact in the mirror, I provide a pep talk for myself. “Listen,” I remind my reflection, “this is just one more fucked up situation in 2020. You’ve gotten through worse. It’s truly a giant house, so there’s no reason -- wait. Why is he staying here anyway?” For whatever reason, I had allowed him to dodge that incredibly simple question.

Tucking my hands into the hoodie’s front pocket, I amble to the kitchen where Harry is just disconnecting his phone.

“Food will be here in 45 minutes,” he promises.

“Why are you staying here again? I missed your answer earlier,” I prompt.

I’m confident I see a flash of embarrassment crossing his face as he lowers his head. “Wine?” He asks, gesturing towards the extensive rack of reds and then the chiller of whites.

Unsure as to whether I should allow the diversion or press, I examine him. His eyes look tired and sad. His clothes, while comfortable, aren’t upbeat. Nor is his current demeanor. Is he okay?

Planting his hands in his hoodie in an unconscious mimic of my pose, he glances at me before his eyes stray to the side, examining the marble countertop. That look tells me more than I need to know, and my empath side emerges as I toss him a life preserver.

“With poke? I think perhaps a Reisling.”

He nods, bending to look through the wines in the cooler before he extracts one, holding it up for me to inspect the label. My eyes start to widen at the vineyard, assuming the extravagant cost, but I calm my features. “Perf!” I declare.

Grasping the wine opener from a nearby drawer, Harry removes the cork as I snatch two wine glasses from the cabinet and place them near him. Carefully comparing the amount in each glass, he pours enough before recorking the bottle. Taking my glass, I move into the living room where I can view the tree. It’s Christmas Eve Eve after all, and I refuse to be deterred from watching the lights twinkle and celebrating the season.

Harry apparently has a similar idea as he fiddles with the sound system before a crackle of ‘Jingle Bell Drunk’ by RaeLynn starts playing which causes me to giggle.

I settle on one side of the sofa, and Harry plants himself on the other side. Separately, we each take a sip of the riesling. My tongue does a happy dance at the flavor on my tongue. “This sweetness will cut the spicy quite well. Excellent choice.”

“You made the selection,” Harry reminds me, and I cringe.

“Oh. Yeah.”

Silence descends as the song proclaims “I’ve been naughty. I’ve been nice.”

“If there was ever a year for this song, this is it.” I announce into the quiet.

“Yeah. It’s been quite the year.”

Sharply, I glance at him. Perhaps I had missed something? “Excuse me? You’ve had one hell of a year, Styles. Grammy nominations aside, there were how many music videos released during this global disaster? Plus a movie!”

“Agreed.” He’s quiet, his jaw clenched, and suddenly his words burst forth as though a gate at a dam has been opened. “But no tour. And almost no family time.”

Wait. Was this superstar feeling some of my emotions? He’d had a stellar year in anyone’s estimation. Maybe I could be more sympathetic.

“Yeah. I’m sorry about tour. I had tickets to Vegas and one of the LA shows.”

His head swivels to me more swiftly than an owl focusing on prey. “You had tickets?”

“HAVE.” I swallow. “Thanks for not canceling by the way. I cannot imagine the bloodbath for getting tickets in the future. You’ve become the ‘it celebrity’.”

A blush is followed by a sheepish smile. “You can always get tickets, Smith. Just ask.”

“I don’t do that.” My voice is filled with the prickles that I feel at his words.

“Do what?”

“Use my privilege to get tickets to shows.”

“Oh. I…” His words trailed off.

Suddenly, I feel less uncomfortable around him. Reaching out, I shove at his shoulder. “You’re a giant star, and you have a ton of fans who want to see you. Me? I’m just happy to be a member of the audience.”

“Really?” Incredulous is what I sense in that one word. “Why?”

“Seriously?” I’m appalled. “Do you not know what an amazing entertainer you are, Styles? Fuck. If I hadn’t been able to see your Fine Line show at the Forum last December, I probably would have cried. You know exactly what your audience wants, and you deliver it. Consistently.”

“But --”

“Hush. Don’t you dare negate your talent!” Taking another sip of wine, I reveal unabashedly, “Maybe it’s the wine talking, but I really enjoy your shows.”

“Smith?” He inquires, and my hand stalls with my wine glass halfway to my mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you like my shows?”

Stalling, I run a finger through my hair and empty my wine glass before holding it out to him. “More please?”

He rises, but I can read his reluctance. Within moments, Harry is back at my side, handing me a second glass of the riesling. I can’t help but notice that he’s topped his own off too.

“Answer the question, Smith.”

“My name isn’t Smith. In fact, there’s not a single part of my name that’s related to Smith. Why do you call me that?”

“Tell me why you like my shows, and I’ll reveal the meaning behind the nickname.”

My head feels fuzzy from the wine and the headiness of being near Harry, and I watch the lights flashing on the tree for a few minutes while Meghan Patrick belts out her version of ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas’ over the sound system.

“You make your fans feel like they matter.”

“How?” His question comes rapidly, and I have to gather my thoughts.

“You...talk to them. Listen to them. Watch them. Appreciate them. It’s rare, Harry. I mean, I’m in this business too, you know. Not every artist does what you do.”

“False.”

“I’m fucking serious, you asshole.” I gulp down more of the wine. “You make your audience feel like they’re your closest friends. I wish more artists did that. Specifically the ones I represent.”

“Oh.” His single utterance is enough, and we sit in pure tranquility for several minutes as the lights blink and Ava Max sings “Christmas Without You”.

“Wanna watch the quintessential holiday movie?” I inquire, looking at him.

“Which is?”

“Die Hard, of course,” is my response. “What were you thinking?”

“It’s a Wonderful Life.”

“Nope. It’s pretty good. In the top five for sure.”

“Wait. What are your top five?”

“Oh, that’s easy. ‘Die Hard’, ‘Home Alone’, ‘A Christmas Story’, ‘The Santa Clause’, and ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’.

“You’re serious?”

“Deadly?” I giggle at the joke since ‘Die Hard’ is full of death.

“Fine. But we watch ‘Wonderful Life’ afterwards.”

“Deal.”

Part 2

#my writing #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #caitlin's fic challenge #part1 #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #original writing

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a-froger-epic · 3 years ago

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The Queen fandom, Freddie Mercury and Characterisation

Or: Why are those anons like this? Why are those writers like this? Why don't we understand each other?

In this essay, I will-

No, I’m serious, I will. And this is an essay. It’s roughly 2500 words.

The friction, concerns and hurt in fandom around Freddie’s characterisation - most recently centred around a fic the author tagged as ‘Bisexual Freddie Mercury’, stating in the notes that they have chosen to write Freddie as bisexual - have given me a lot to think about. And if you have been asking yourself the questions above, this here might be of interest to you.

First off, why do I feel like I need to talk about this?

The answer is not: Because I’m so very influential in fandom.

I think my influence in this fandom has been vastly overstated by some people. If I were so influential, everybody would rush to read anything I rec or write. And trust me, they really don’t. My relevance is confined to a very specific part of the fandom. That part is made up of: Freddie fans, Froger shippers, some Roger fans, a handful of writers who like to support each other and like each other’s work, and people who are really into research.

There are many parts of fandom where my opinions are entirely irrelevant. Looking at the big picture, by which I mean only the Queen RPF fandom, I simply am not that important. Looking at the even bigger picture: the Queen fandom as a whole, the majority of which doesn't read or care about RPF - I am literally nobody.

Furthermore, everything I will be talking about here is in relation to the RPF-centred part of Queen fandom.

So why this public essay?

Because I have been deeply involved for two years in a divide of opinions concerning how Freddie ought to be written and how people think of RPF. I think this is in large part because I - like several other authors currently writing for the fandom - absolutely love research. It's my idea or fun. I love to dig into these real people’s lives. Not everybody does that and not everybody is comfortable with that. It’s a personal choice depending on people's levels of comfort surrounding RPF. But this does put me firmly in the camp of Freddie fans who like to explore who this man really was, and track down every last fact about him.

Freddie Mercury vs. Fictional Freddie

I’ll admit that I am one of those people who have the urge to speak up when they see somebody claim that Freddie was bisexual, and sometimes I will say: “Well, actually, we do know that he didn’t see himself that way, because…” For me, these have often been positive exchanges.

I think there is overwhelming evidence that Freddie Mercury identified as gay from his split with Mary to the end of his life (wonderfully curated here by RushingHeadlong). In the niche of fandom I have frequented over the last two years, as far as Freddie the real man is concerned, I have barely ever seen anybody argue with this.

But fanfiction and talking about real Freddie are not one the same thing, and they shouldn't be, and as far as I am concerned they don't have to be. Some writers like to put every last fact and detail they can find into their fic, in an attempt to approach a characterisation that feels authentic to them (and perhaps others), and other writers are simply content to draw inspiration from the real people, writing versions vaguely based on them.

But writing historically and factually accurate RPF is more respectful.

Is it? I've thought about this for a long time, and I really can't agree that it is. This, to me, seems to presume that we know what kind of fiction these real people would prefer to have been written about them. That, in itself, is impossible to know.

However, if I imagine Freddie reading RPF about himself, I think that he might laugh himself silly at an AU with a character merely inspired by him and may be really quite disturbed by a gritty, realistic take full of intimate details of and speculations about his life and psyche. Such as I also tend to write, just by the by, so this is definitely not a criticism of anybody. Freddie is dead. Of all the people to whom the way he is written in fiction matters, Freddie himself is not one. There is no way to know what Freddie would or wouldn't have wanted, in this regard, and so it isn't relevant.

Personally, I can't get behind the idea that speculating and creatively exploring very intimate details of Freddie's life, things he never even spoke of to anybody, is in any way more respectful than writing versions of him which take a lot of creative liberties. As I've said so many times before, I think either all of RPF is disrespectful or none of it is.

So who cares about Freddie characterisation in fiction anyway?

Clearly, a lot of people do. Freddie Mercury was an incredibly inspiring figure and continues to be that to a multitude of very different people for different reasons. There are older fans who have maybe faced the same kind of discrimination because of their sexuality, who saw Freddie's life and persona distorted and attacked by other fans and the media for decades, who have a lot of hurt and resentment connected to such things as calling Freddie bisexual - because this has been used (and in the wider fandom still is used) to discredit his relationship with Jim, to argue that Mary was the love of his life and none of his same sex relationships mattered, to paint a picture where "the gay lifestyle" was the death of him. And that is homophobic. That is not right. I completely understand that upset.

But.

These are not the only people who care about Freddie and for whom Freddie is a source of inspiration and comfort. What about people who simply connect to his struggles with his sexuality from a different angle? What about, for example, somebody who identifies with the Freddie who seemed to be reluctant to label himself, because that, to them, implies a freedom and sexual fluidity that helps them cope with how they see their own sexuality? Is it relevant why Freddie was cagey about labelling himself? Does it matter that it likely had a lot to do with discrimination? Are his reasons important? To some degree, yes. But are other queer people not allowed to see that which helps them in him? Are they not allowed to take empowerment and inspiration from this? Can you imagine Freddie himself ever resenting somebody who, for whatever reason, admired him and whose life he made that little bit brighter through his mere existence, however they interpreted it? I honestly can't say that I can imagine Freddie himself objecting to that.

This is the thing about fame. Anyone who is famous creates a public persona, and this persona belongs to the fans. By choosing that path, this person gives a lot of themselves to their fans. To interpret, to draw inspiration from, to love the way it makes sense to the individual. Please remember, at this point, that we are talking about how people engage with Freddie as a fictional character creatively. This is not about anybody trying to lay down the law regarding who Freddie really was, unequivocally. This is all about writers using his inspiring persona and the imprint he left on this world to explore themes that resonate with them.

This is what we as writers do. We write about things which resonate with us and often touch us deeply.

But don't they care about the real Freddie?

Yes, actually, I would argue that a lot of people care about "the real Freddie". It seems to me that depicting Freddie as gay or with a strong preference for men is what the vast majority of the RPF-centered fandom on AO3 already does. You will find very, very few stories where Freddie is depicted having a good time with women sexually or romantically. That he was mostly all about men is already the majority opinion in this part of fandom.

But another question is, who was the real Freddie? If the last two years in fandom have taught me anything, it is that even things which seem like fact to one person can seem like speculation to another. I have personally had so many discussions with so many people on different sides of the debate about the exact circumstances of Freddie's life and his inner world, that I must say I don't think there is such a thing as one accurate, "real" portrayal of Freddie. Even those of us who are heavily invested in research sometimes disagree quite significantly about the interpretations of sources. So that narrows "You don't care about the real Freddie" down to "You don't care about Freddie because you don't interpret everything we know about his life the exact same way I do". Sure, by that definition, very few people care about Freddie the same way you do.

The bottom line is, there are so many writers and fans who love him, people who are obsessed with him, people who care about him deeply. They might care about who they believe he really was or who he chose to present himself as to the world, the way he wanted to be seen. But ultimately, in my personal opinion, if somebody is inspired to write Freddie as a fictional character they feel that Freddie means a lot to them. And it is hurtful to accuse them of not caring.

But what some people write hurts/triggers me.

Yes, that can happen. Because the nature of AO3 is that everything is permitted. Personally, I am very much in agreement with that. You will also find me in the camp of people who are against any sort of censorship on AO3, no matter how much some of the content goes against my own morals or how distasteful I find it. Some people disagree with that, which is fine. We must agree to disagree then. Here, I would like to quote QuirkySubject from the post she made regarding this whole situation because I cannot put it better myself: “The principle that all fic is valid (even RPF fic that subverts the lived experience of the person the fic is based on) is like the foundation of [AO3]. The suggestion that certain kinds of characterisations aren't allowed will provoke a knee-jerk reaction by many writers.”

No matter how much you may disagree with a story's plot or characterisation, it is allowed on AO3. "But wait," you might say, "the issue is not with it being on the site but with people like yourself - who should care about "the real Freddie" - supporting it."

This is some of what I have taken away from the upset I have seen. And it’s worth deconstructing.

I've already addressed "the real Freddie". Moving on to...

The author is dead.

This is something others might very well disagree on as well, but to me the story itself matters far more than authorial intent. And what may be one thing according to the author’s personal definition, may be another thing to the reader. Let’s use an example. This is an ask I received yesterday:

This author thinks they were writing Freddie as bisexual. However, going by the plot of their story, I would actually say that it is largely very similar to how I see the progression of Freddie’s young adulthood. To me, personally, Freddie would still be gay throughout the story because he arrives - eventually - at the conclusion that he is. The author and I disagree on terminology only. And I think simply disagreements about terminology, given that some terms are so loaded with history in Freddie’s case, trips a lot of people up.

It seems to me that many people still equate bisexuality with a 50/50 attraction to men and women, when in actual fact many - if not most - bi/pan people would say that it is nowhere near that distribution. Some people are of the opinion that anybody who experiences some attraction to the opposite sex, even if they have a strong same-sex preference, could be technically considered bisexual. (However, sexuality isn’t objective, it’s subjective. At least when it comes to real people. What about fictionalised real people? We will get to that.)

Let's briefly return to real Freddie.

What I'm seeing is that there are several ways of thinking here, with regard to his sexuality.

1. Freddie was gay because that seems to be (from everything we know) the conclusion he arrived at and the way he saw himself, once he had stopped dating women. Therefor, he was always gay, it just took him a while to come to terms with it.

2. Freddie can be referred to as bisexual during the time when he was with women because at that time, he may very well have thought of himself thusly - whether that was wishful thinking and he was aware of it or whether he really thought he might be bisexual is not something we can say definitively. He came out as gay to two friends in 1974 on separate occassions, and he talked to his girlfriends about being bisexual. (Personally, I think here it is interesting to look at who exactly he was saying what to, but let's put my own interpretations aside.)

3. Freddie can be seen as bisexual/pansexual because his life indicates that he was able to be in relationships with both men and women and because there is nothing to disprove he didn't experience any attraction to the women he was with. Had he lived in a different time, he may have defined himself differently.

Now, I'm of the first school of thought here, personally, although I understand the second and also, as a thought experiment, the third.

I think all of these approaches have validity, although the historical context of Freddie's life should be kept in mind and is very relevant whenever we speak about the man himself.

But when we return to writing fictionalised versions of Freddie, any of these approaches should absolutely be permissible. Yes, some of them or aspects of them can cause upset to some people.

And this is why AO3 has a tagging system. This is why authors write very clearly worded author's notes. This is the respect authors extend to their readers. This, in turn, has to be respected. Everybody is ultimately responsible for their own experience on the archive.

Nobody has the right to dictate what is or isn't published under the Queen tag. As far as I am concerned, nobody should have that right. As far as I am concerned, everybody has a responsibility to avoid whatever may upset them. I understand where the upset comes from. I also maintain it is every writer's right to engage with Freddie's character creatively the way they choose to.

None of us can control how other people engage with Freddie or the fandom. None of us can control what other people enjoy or dislike about the fandom.

The best way to engage with the content creating part of fandom, in my opinion, has always been to create what brings you joy, to consume the content that brings you joy and to respectfully step away from everything that doesn't.

#Queen fandom #Freddie Mercury #bi Freddie

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rascheln · 3 years ago

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i think the kindest thing you can do for yourself as someone who makes art by writing (or drawing) is to let go of the need for constant validation. be that by numbers, comments, whatever. if the entire purpose of me writing is with an expectation that i will get x amount of comments, x amount of notes and then that ‘goal’ of numbers isn’t met, why would that diminish the value of what i created?

time makes me less inclined to be disappointed by that kinda thinking. i go through my writing tag sometimes because my memory is absolute garbage and stuff i wrote weeks or months ago pops up that i find fun, even though i felt incredibly anxious about it right after posting.

nowadays, i’ve made myself forget about the numbers. like, i used to have a really hard time falling asleep starting in my teens due to massive anxiety. and then i read that instead i should treat my bed and the act of laying my head on my pillow like a safe space where i have permission to let go of all my worries. they do not exist.

and making myself associate lying in my bed with nothing but sleep and peace of mind took a lot of time. but nowadays i rarely fall into bed riddled by anxiety for hours on end.

so, i still feel the insecurities and sadness when people don’t seem to particularly enjoy something i made. that hasn’t gone away! but i also try to push my thoughts away from the numbers. i’ve also long since accepted that i’m firmly in the decent to mediocre range of writing ability and don’t consider that a bad thing.

because this is a hobby. and yeah, i strive to make pretty things. or, like, enjoyable things! sometimes i want to make something that makes other people feel an emotion i wanted to express and sometimes i just want to share a fun scenario that fell into my head.

but most importantly, i can’t allow myself to tie my self worth to those comments and numbers. i know who i am as a person outside of those things. and i can’t allow my sense of self, my self worth, my very soul that i do sometimes put into my silly little stories, i can’t allow these things to be consumed by the reactions of others. a lot of me exists online. a lot of me is in these things i create. but i think a lot about the way my online self gets affected by these spaces and how that affects my very real, not always online emotions. and sometimes, i have to protect that self.

#txt #tnd //#just doing a mix of introspection and vent i think #anyways i watched CJ the X's recent video and i'm STILL thinking about it #about how he talks about how we experience the internet and how it affects us and like... our sense of self and soul

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dinosaurs-last-day · 4 years ago

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Of Witches and Long Lost Families

This is my gift for @because-were-fam-ily for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange 2020!

Their prompt that I used was magic au, and I also added an nonbinary character since another one of their prompts was nonbinary coming out.

Relationships: platonic dukeceit, eventual romantic intrulogical, familial dukexiety and familial ancxeit.

word count: 5004

warnings: ask to tag

Witches, demons, angels, elves, fairies. All considered mythical creatures to humans, all very real. Most of them live in hiding, unwilling to prove their existence to the non-magical humans, sometimes even fearful of what people would do if they found out the truth.

Janus was one of these magical beings, they were a witch. Like many magical and mythical beings, they preferred to avoid humans, opting to live in the woods that were deemed “haunted.” Because so many magical beings lived in those woods, humans tended to stay away, which led to it being a magical paradise.

Janus lived by themself, spending most of their time perfecting potions and magical spells. When they weren’t working, they were often with their best friend, Remus.

Remus was a demon, a cruel and vulgar species. Remus didn’t live in the forest, he chose to live in the pits of hell, which suited him just fine. Everything about Remus was crazy, from his wild sense of clothing (billowing black shirts with tight leather pants) to his wild purple makeup and dark green demon horns. Remus’ favorite pastime was coming up from Hell to terrorize humans in the village closest to the forest.

Janus was almost the exact opposite. They were calm and careful, full of grace and poise. Janus dressed with elegance, wearing long cloaks and flowing skirts that were practical but still had that dramatic flair that Janus was known for. They wore satin yellow gloves, which served no practical purpose, the gloves were purely because Janus liked them.

Together, the two friends were a force to behold. Remus’ chaotic whimsy and Janus’ calculated cunning worked together better than most people would expect. Most of the time, their schemes were directed at humans who had wandered into the forest or offended the magic folk. Janus insisted on using their powers for protective purposes only, but Remus was known to convince them on pulling a cruel prank every once and awhile. If the two weren’t terrorizing humans, they were probably terrorizing Remus’ rival and brother, the angel Roman.

On the particular morning our story starts, Remus had crawled up from Hell, bored and hoping that Janus could entertain him somehow. He wanted to go and trick his brother or his brother’s friend, but Janus insisted that he was too busy working to go do any of Remus’ crazy ideas. So Remus just sat around Janus’ cabin, moping, complaining and summoning hellhounds to keep him entertained.

“Janny! Why must you insist on being so serious! We’re occult beings damn it! If we want to have a little fun, we should be allowed to have fun!” Remus draped himself across Janus’ couch dramatically, trying to tear Janus away from their work. Janus rolled their eyes and continued to stir the bubbling brew in their cauldron.

“I’m sorry Remus, but I am working. I have to get this potion ready for Logan.”

Remus perked up. “Logan the elf?” Janus nodded. It was common knowledge that Remus was romantically interested in the elven man for a long time. Logan himself was the only one who seemed unaware, but he wasn’t known for being the best at reading social cues. He was the most socially awkward elf that Janus had ever seen, which was saying something since elves were known for being an incredibly social race.

“Are you delivering the potion today?” Remus asked. Janus nodded once again.

“You can tag along if you promise to behave,” Janus told their friend. Remus agreed wholeheartedly that as long as they were going to visit Logan, he would stay out of trouble, specifically, he would refrain from terrorizing Roman.

“Well then let’s go!” Remus was ready to bounce out the door but Janus held him back, reminding him that they had to wait for the potion to be done first. Remus sighed and flopped down on Janus’ couch, waiting impatiently as he summoned another hellhound and began to play with the giant demon dog.

“It’s done,” Janus called, watching as Remus zoomed towards the door and out into the open air. Janus laughed and followed their friend outside, smiling as the sun peeked through the trees.

“Let us be off!” Remus cried dramatically, leading the way. The two headed through the woods towards the more populated area, where Logan lived. They were still a ways away from the town when they heard a rustling in the bushes.

Janus stopped to listen, expecting some sort of rabbit or little fairy to pop out of the brush, but nothing appeared. Remus was starting to get bored, so he began to pull Janus down along the path.

The moment Janus’ back was turned towards the bush, more rustling came and out appeared a young teenager. He was tall and skinny, his vivid violet eyes hidden by the hood he wore over his head. The boy froze when he saw Janus and Remus.

Remus was the first to move, diving for the boy. The boy screamed and held out his hands to keep Remus from flying straight into him.

“Remus no!” Janus yelled. Remus stopped mid flight, suspended in the air as he stared at Janus. The boy went to run away but Janus muttered a spell to immobilize the boy. The boy struggled against the magic for a moment before seeming to give up. Janus walked forward, motioning for Remus to come and stand on the ground.

“What are you doing in the forest, dear boy?” Janus asked, standing in front of the boy. The teenager’s skin was a tan color, partly from being out in the sun and partly because of its natural shade.

“I was running away,” the boy said through gritted teeth. He was glaring at the two mythical beings in front of him, shifting his eyes between the two, unsure of who was the bigger threat.

“Janny, I wanna feed him to my hellhound!” Remus whined, tugging at the witch’s arm.

Janus shook their head. “No, we’re not killing him.” Both Remus and the boy seemed shocked.

“Why aren’t you going to kill me?” The boy asked. “Not that I don’t appreciate it or anything, but he’s a demon,” his glance flicked over to Remus for a moment before returning to Janus. “And I’m assuming you’re a witch. And I’m in your forest.”

“Correct, Remus here is a demon, an annoying one too. And yes, I am a witch. My name is Janus.

“Now, as for why we aren’t going to kill you, even though you are in our forest. I guess you spark my curiosity. You said that you were running away, why?”

The boy looked at the ground for a moment, seeming to consider if he should tell his captors.

“Be honest now, or I’ll let Remus do as he pleases with you. I won’t stop him if he tries to feed you to his army of hellhounds.” Remus clapped his hand in excitement. The boy gulped and looked up.

“I hated it there, the village I mean. I don’t have a family and basically the only reason they kept me around was for working. I don’t know where I’m going, just not there.”

Janus thought for a moment.

“What’s your name kid?” The boy seemed surprised that Janus had even cared to ask, but Janus just stared at him.

“Um, it’s Virgil.”

“Well Virgil, if you don’t know where you’re going, how do you feel about becoming a witch? Having an apprentice would be nice, an extra set of hands and commany for when Remus is too busy terrorizing someone.”

Remus gasped from behind Janus, but they focused on Virgil, waiting for a response. Virgil gulped and nodded.

"I'll become your apprentice. Anything to not be fed to a demon's pet dog." Remus growled, but Janus ignored him. With a few words in an ancient language, Virgil was released from the spell and collapsed to the ground.

"Remus, I'd like you to make the delivery for me. I'll be walking Virgil back to my cabin. We can't have anyone else see a human in our forest." Janus commanded, handing Remus the potion. “And please don’t make Logan uncomfortable, he is a valued customer.”

“Fine, but only because you asked so politely,” Remus said, running down the path, glass vial in hand. Janus sighed, they knew that it was highly unlikely that Remus would actually respect Logan’s boundaries, that’s just how Remus was.

They turned back to the teen who was still sitting on the ground. Virgil was staring up at Janus, his face expressionless.

“Why did you save me?” He asked.

“I have no idea what you are talking about. Now follow me.” Janus headed back towards their cabin, allowing Virgil to follow just a few steps behind him.

“You offered me the option to live. I’m human, why would you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No, I don’t know. Something about you draws me in, interests me. But I’ve yet to put my finger on what that something is. I intend to find out though.”

“So I’m some sort of experiment?”

“If you insist on looking at it that way, then sure. But I think of it as an assistant with an interesting past that I intend to find out. Why do you keep asking, would you prefer death? It can be arranged.”

Virgil stopped in his tracks. “No, I prefer this.” Janus turned around, facing the boy.

“Then follow me and stop asking so many silly questions. Questions are for learning.” They turned back around and listened to the sound of Virgil’s feet hitting the dirt path as the boy followed along.

They approached Janus’ cabin, Virgil silently taking in the entire forest. When the two walked through the front door, Janus allowed Virgil to walk around and look at everything. They noticed how Virgil seemed to hang around the storage closet where Janus kept most of their potion ingredients. Virgil was inspecting the different labels, sometimes silently mouthing the names of the different herbs.

Remus came storming into the building right as Virgil was settling down on the couch next to Janus.

“I’m back!” He yelled in a sing-song voice. “Did ya miss me? How’s our new friend doing?”

Janus looked to Virgil, who seemed surprised that he was expected to answer.

“Um, I’m doing fine I guess. As fine as a dude can be in this situation.”

“You going to lay down some ground rules for him, Janny? So if he breaks them, I can feed him to my hellhounds?” Virgil visibly paled at the mention of the demon’s dogs, but neither of the adults paid him any attention.

“Yes, ground rules. First of all, don’t touch anything without permission. We don’t want you to accidentally cause an explosion. Second of all, you can’t leave my property without one of us, that’s for your safety. My garden is open to you whenever you want but outside my fence, if we aren’t there, we can’t protect you from any magical being you stumble across. And lastly, if I happen to have a customer over, it’s probably best that you stay upstairs. Again, this is for your own safety.” Virgil seemed to relax when he realized that the rules weren’t as bad as he originally thought. Remus pouted a little, realizing that he couldn’t actually feed the teenager to the hellhounds with these rules, but he knew better than to argue with Janus.

“So I’m not a prisoner?” Virgil asked.

Janus shook their head. “We’ve already discussed this, you are an assistant. And I’d like to make it clear that if you decide that magic isn’t your thing, you’re free to leave, go wherever you want. But I will not protect you.”

“If you want to leave Jan’s boring potion making lessons, feel free to join me,” Remus said, sliding next to Virgil. Virgil laughed awkwardly.

“Join you?”

“Gimme your soul and you’ll have everything that I have! Become a demon! It’s lots of fun, I promise.”

“No trying to convert my assistant Remus. I doubt the boy is ready to give up his soul just yet.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll keep my soul for now. I kind of like it.”

Janus showed Virgil to the room that he would be staying in and told him that they would begin his lessons in witchcraft first thing in the morning. Right now, Virgil needed sleep. Janus insisted that it had been a very busy afternoon and that practicing magic while not being fully rested was a dangerous game.

The next few weeks went by in a blur to Janus. What stood out to them about living with Virgil was how easily the teen picked up magic. It was like a second nature to him, Janus couldn’t help but wonder if Virgil actually had some mythical ancestry in his past that maybe, he didn’t know about.

Virgil seemed to enjoy learning magic too, he was constantly asking questions about whatever Janus was working on and reading some of Janus’ old spell books in his free time. Remus wouldn’t stop bothering him about selling his soul, but now it was more of a joke, the subject didn’t bother Virgil as much.

And Virgil was really good at following Janus’ rules. He never went past the gates, which he claimed the very idea of heading out alone made him extremely anxious, and he always stayed in his room when there was a visitor, who was usually Logan. Virgil did spend a lot of time in the garden, choosing to read in the sun and warmth of the forest.

One day, while Virgil was off somewhere reading and Janus was busy finishing a potion for Patton the fae, Remus slammed open the door.

“I’m home!” Janus rolled their eyes, used to the demon’s antics. “I brought company!” Remus dragged another person into the cabin. Janus immediately stood up.

“Logan! Hello. Did you come with another potion order?”

Logan, the elf that Remus had been crushing on, was a very serious and simple person. He tended to stick to simple, practical clothes. A fitted navy blue tunic with pants and a half cape that didn’t get in his way. He wore glasses that matched his simple style. Even his accent, a traditional elven dialect, was crisp and simple.

“I’m afraid not Janus. You see, I came here upon Remus’ request.” Janus turned and raised an eyebrow at Remus, who was bouncing up and down on his toes.

“I convinced him to date me!” Remus said, holding onto Logan’s hands.

Janus turned to Logan. “Blink twice if he threatened you into this.” Logan shook his head.

“There was no such threatening. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we’ve been spending more time around each other and I do not find Remus unbearable as others do. Quite the opposite actually, I find him quite enjoyable. He has a lot of interesting things to say and knows many things about topics I’ve never looked into.”

“You hear that, Janny? I have a boyfriend! I can’t wait for us to do things together! We can go on adventures together, create cool things, teach Virgil how to-” Remus cut himself off, realizing his mistake too late.

“Virgil?” Logan asked. “Who is Virgil?”

“Virgil is no one, Remus is just being silly,” Janus lied, hoping that Logan would believe them.

“I heard my name, is everything okay?” Virgil said, walking in from the garden, carrying an old spell book. He froze in his tracks when he saw Logan. Janus could see the anxiety rise up inside Virgil, knew that Virgil would probably have a panic attack any second now if this situation wasn’t taken care of immediately. But they didn’t know what to do.

“Are you a human?” Logan asked, stepping forward. Virgil immediately took two steps backward, remaining silent. Logan didn’t seem to realize how scared Virgil was, continuing to walk towards him, backing Virgil into a wall as he examined the boy. “Goodness, you are human. How interesting.”

Remus was the first one to truly react. “That’s actually one of my little demons in training! Not a human at all!” Remus had always been the worst liar that Janus had ever seen.

“No, this boy is human, and quite an interesting one at that,” Logan mused, continuing to study Virgil. He noticed the book that Virgil was clutching to his chest.

“Can you read that? Understand it?” He asked. Unsure of what to do, Virgil nodded. His breathing was becoming rapid.

“Fascinating. Can you brew potions, perform simple spells?” Another nod. Janus moved, slipping in between Logan and Virgil, motioning for Virgil to go outside. The teen obeyed immediately, sitting in the grass, out of sight of Logan. He focused on steadying his breathing. Janus would take care of this.

“You can’t tell anyone he’s here. You know what some of them would do if they found out,” Janus pleaded.

“Don’t be ridiculous, he has just as much a right to live in this forest, just like every other mythical creature here.”

Janus raised an eyebrow as the three adults moved to the couch. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you think it’s funny that a human boy can perform magic? And did you see what he was reading, those weren’t simple spells that he was studying. I think it’s more than safe to say he has witches’ blood. How ever did you find him?”

Janus and Remus worked together to tell the story of how they found Virgil and brought him back to the cabin. Logan listened in rapt attention and thought a few minutes after they had finished telling the story.

“Did you ever figure out what drew you to him?” Logan finally asked Janus.

“No. For all I know, it was just chance,” they said.

“I want to do some research back at my library, but I’m almost 100% sure that boy has witch’s blood in his veins. That would explain everything. Why he was drawn to this forest, why you decided to help him, why he’s so good at magic. I’m sure if you asked him, that would even explain why he decided to leave his home.”

"So, Virgil can stay?" Remus asked. Logan nodded and Remus immediately moved so that he was sitting next to his boyfriend, as if he had kept space between them in case Logan said that Virgil had to leave.

Logan left, insisting that he had to start immediately on his research into Virgil’s family history, leaving Janus and Remus alone. The moment that they were sure that Logan was gone, Janus ran into the garden, followed by Remus.

The two adults found Virgil under a tree, tearing at the grass as if that would calm him down. He looked up when he heard them running towards him. Janus could still see panic in the teenager’s eyes.

“I’m going to have to leave, aren’t I?” The sentence was like being stabbed through the heart with a sharp sword, Janus felt so much pain over it. Remus practically threw himself on the ground, pulling Virgil into a hug and holding him close. Janus joined the hug, keeping his own sobs at bay.

“You aren’t going to leave,” Remus said. Out of all of them, Remus was definitely the calmest in the moment, which was very strange. But Janus couldn’t focus on it at the moment. “If Janus tries to kick you out, I’ll feed them to my hellhounds and you’ll come with me.”

“Of course I’m not going to kick you out or make you leave. If you want to stay, then I’d be more than happy to let you. You’re family by now.” Janus reached over and wiped a tear off of Virgil’s cheek. Virgil sniffled, trying to pull himself together.

“But what about that elf?” Virgil asked between sniffles. “Won’t he try to get rid of me?”

“Logan? He would never.” Remus looked slightly offended on his boyfriend’s behalf, but only slightly.

Janus smiled. “He thinks that you’re like me. He thinks that you’re actually a witch.”

Virgil’s jaw dropped a few inches. “But I’m human!”

“Virgil, do you know anything about your family? You never talk about them.” Janus knew that Virgil’s answer to this question could tell them more than all of Logan’s research put together.

Virgil shook his head solemnly. “I don’t know.”

“Then I think it’s safe to say that the odds that one of your ancestors was a witch is very possible. Virgil, you’re the best student I’ve ever seen. You pick up concepts and skills quicker than anyone I know.”

“So I’m a witch?” Virgil looked at the spell book lying on the ground next to him with a new found appreciation.

“Quite possibly.”

“Logan is looking into it right now,” Remus said. “He has a whole library full of books and he thinks one might contain a family tree that you should be a part of, if you aren’t already.”

“So I can stay?”

“Yes, of course you can stay.”

“I’d like to see Virgil.”

Janus looked up from their work, and made eye contact with Logan, who was standing in the front doorway.

“Well hello to you too Logan. It’s a pleasure to see you in my house.”

“This is important. I want to speak to Virgil. I think I may have found his family.”

Janus dropped what they were doing, and immediately walked over to Logan.

“You think so? Wow, that’s amazing.”

“So can I see him?” Logan seemed slightly impatient, not unusual to him. Logan liked to know things, and not knowing things made him uncomfortable. Janus could tell that this was one of those moments where he didn’t know something and he expected Virgil to have the answers.

“I’m afraid that Virgil isn’t home right now. Remus took him down to hell to see the new hellhound puppies. I don’t know exactly when they’ll be back, but you’re welcome to wait here until them.”

Logan nodded and thanked Janus before sitting down on the couch. Janus watched the elf for a minute, noting how his leg bounced in anticipation. For Logan’s sake, they hoped that Remus and Virgil would be back soon.

The sound of two people shouting excitedly was what alerted Logan and Janus that Remus and Virgil had returned. Logan had been waiting on Janus’ couch for nearly an hour, sitting in silence with his leg bouncing. When he heard them, Logan practically leaped off the couch.

Remus kicked the door open, floating inside. Virgil followed, excitedly explaining something to Remus, his hands waving around his head as he talked. He immediately stopped talking when he saw Logan.

“Lolo!” Remus said, throwing himself at his boyfriend. Logan kissed Remus quickly before turning back to Virgil.

“I’m sorry to spoil your conversation Virgil but do you have a moment? I’d like to talk to you, in private.” Virgil’s glance immediately shot to Janus, looking for an answer as to what was going on. Janus mouthed the word family and Virgil seemed to understand.

“Sure, yeah, would you like to walk in the garden or talk in my room?” Virgil asked Logan. Logan fidgeted with his glasses.

“The garden is fine. This will only take a minute.” Janus and Remus watched as Logan followed Virgil out the door into the back garden. The moment that they were out of sight, Remus turned on his heels and demanded an explanation from Janus.

“Logan showed up to speak to Virgil about an hour ago,” They explained. “Said it had to do with his family. I can only hope that it's good news.”

“Jan,” Remus sat down on the couch, his voice soft as if he was afraid to say what he was about to say. “What if Virgil finds his family? What if they’re nearby and he wants to live with them?”

Janus hadn’t even thought about this, but it made sense that Virgil would want to live with his real family, not with Janus and Remus. They sat down next to Remus, resting their head on the demon’s shoulder.

“I guess all we can do is support him. It’s his family, we don’t get to claim that title. He’ll probably still want to spend time with us.”

“And if he doesn’t? What if he prefers his new family, his real family, to us and never wants to speak to us again?” It was rare for Remus to worry about something, which indicated to Janus how much this was bugging Remus.

“Well, then we’ll just have to accept that. There’s nothing we can do.”

They sat in silence for a minute, letting the thought of losing Virgil settle in their minds. When Virgil and Logan walked in the house, they both jumped up to greet them. Logan stood near the door in silence while Virgil walked over to the two adults.

“So, do you know who your family is?” Remus asked, hovering a few inches over Virgil. The teenager nodded. Remus sank down to the floor, leaning on Janus for support.

“Are you going to stay with them?” Janus asked softly.

“My family was a line of powerful witches, but Logan says that nobody knows what happened to them. They don’t live in the forest anymore.” Remus stood a little straighter, hope glimmered in his eyes.

“So that means you’re staying?” He asked. Janus tried not to smile, but he felt just as hopeful as Remus looked.

“I wouldn’t know where to start looking for my family. Besides, you guys are my real family now and I could never leave you.” Virgil wrapped his arms around both Janus and Remus, holding them close in a tight group hug. They hugged him back, both feeling full of joy and gratefulness. Remus looked up and motioned for Logan to join the hug, who agreed slightly reluctantly. The four of them were a family. An odd family, but a family nonetheless.

“Virgil, if you don’t stir that right now, it’s going to explode!” Janus shouted, watching in horror as Virgil stood over the cauldron. Sure enough, the liquid in the pot let out a great popping noise as the room was enveloped in smoke and the two stood coughing. When the smoke cleared, the cauldron was empty, with a burnt smell coming from the bottom.

“Sorry,” Virgil said, immediately going to clean up. He was laughing slightly at his mistake. Janus couldn’t help but smile, mistakes were rare with Virgil, he was so good at witchcraft.

“Don’t tell Remus, he’ll be praising you for trying to kill us both and I don’t think I can live with that,” they joked, helping Virgil clean up.

“Don’t worry. You know what Logan would say if he heard that I made such a rookie mistake? I’d never hear the end of it!”

“Roman stopped by the other day, while you were out with Logan. He said that you and Remus were causing problems again.” Janus watched as the teen’s face turned a bright pink. Pranking with Remus had become a common pastime for the young boy, but Janus never found the heart to tell him to stop. Often, they found the silly tricks funny and couldn’t help but laugh at how Remus’ brother always reacted. Roman was quite a dramatic angel. If him and Remus got along, they would be quite a force to be reckoned with.

“It’s not my fault! Remus was upset at something Roman said and he had the perfect revenge plan! I only used one spell and it wasn’t even that powerful!” Virgil defended himself but stopped when he saw that Janus wasn’t angry.

“Just don’t get caught next time,” they warned Virgil. “I’ll have to tell the same thing to Remus. I swear, the two of you together are like two small children. I don’t know how Logan doesn’t go insane dating that menace.”

“Did someone say menace?” Remus asked, popping his head through the front door.

“Yes, we were just talking about you,” Janus said.

“I knew it! I am the most menacing menace this forest has ever seen you know!” Remus floated into the house, followed by Logan, who was rolling his eyes at his boyfriend’s absurdity.

“Are you all prepared for the family picnic?” Logan asked. Janus nodded, grabbing the large basket of food that they had prepared from the counter.

“I’ll carry that!” Virgil said, grabbing the heavy basket before Janus could object. He had to adjust his hold on it a few times before he was comfortable carrying it, leading the way out the back door through the gardens.

They set up the picnic under a large tree that was older than all of them put together. Logan took a few moments to tell Virgil about the tree’s magical properties, who listened in rapt attention. Janus would have listened, but he was busy stopping Remus from eating all the mini pies.

“You know, I’m glad I didn’t feed you to my hellhounds,” Remus told Virgil. “You’re a good kid.”

“You could never feed me to them anyways, I’m too powerful and besides, they like me more than they like you.” Remus let out a dramatic gasp, offended. Virgil smirked, continuing to mock Remus.

“You guys ready for lunch?” Janus asked. Everybody sat down and waited. Janus smiled at their friends gathered around on the blanket. He thought of how close they had grown, how many memories they had made.

Janus held up a drink, indicating that they wanted to make a toast. The others followed suit.

“To family, however strange we may be.” The others repeated the words and dug in. Once, Virgil looked up and smiled at Janus. Janus was sure that they would be speaking for everyone under that tree when they said that family was the best thing to ever happen to them. The odd, mixed family, with all of it’s magic, was probably the greatest thing in the world.

#sanders sides #intrulogical #platonic dukeceit #platonic dukexiety #platonic anxceit #ts remus #remus sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #ts janus #janus sanders #nonbinary janus #ts logan #logan sanders #tss short story #remy writes #happy holidays #i hope you like this!

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valkyrieskwad · 5 years ago

Note

in case you’re still taking prompts (tho it seems like you have a lot on your plate already) — Kara as a vampire who has vowed never to taste human blood and Lena as her vampire-horny best friend who keeps sending her erotic selfies of her neck to try and tempt her

I have weird free time, so im trying to write as much as i can while allowed.

hopefully you like this, feel like i keep butchering these lmfao

Kara doesn’t, you know, spend her days fantasizing about necks or anything like that, but–

She’s a vampire, for whatever that’s worth. And no matter how many vows she makes to never drink human blood, or how committed she is to non-violent coexistence, it doesn’t change the fact that… god, Lena Luthor has a really nice neck–long, pale, corded with muscle when she strains it and perfectly freaking perfect.

Kara can’t help but notice how it moves when she talks or eats or does anything, or really truly, how soft the hollow of her throat looks on any given day, in any given picture. Like it’d make Kara’s heart erratic if it could, like it’d give her that thumpthumpthump feeling in her chest if it was possible, and god, again.

She just… she really can’t think of any other exclamation, because it’s just so entirely distracting.

“That one’s perfect,” she says, looking down at her shoes again. She’s always doing that around Lena, always looking away, mind always going wild and confused whenever it hits her how truly beautiful Lena is, how absolutely flawless she manages to be. “Where’d you say you’re going?”

“My ex-boyfriend,” Lena says, bright like it’s a date, like she’s looking good for him. “We’re meeting up tonight, has some of my things he needs to give back.”

“And you need a choker for that?” Kara asks, hoping she doesn’t sound disappointed, but keeping her eyes on the floor just in case she does. “Thought you said he was, um, like a jerk.”

“Yeah, he’s a real dick,” Lena chirps, and Kara glances up just in time to catch Lena fiddling with the choker, adjusting it on her neck. Kara isn’t obsessed with necks, she isn’t, nonono, but she’s not imagining the fact that Lena only wears low-cut shirts now, only sends selfies with her full-neck in view. She’s not… ugh, maybe she’s reading too much into it, maybe she is weird. “The choker’s just part one of my two part plan to drive him crazy.”

“What’s part two?” Kara asks, shoving her hands in her pocket and looking away again. Lena would never be interested in her, let alone want Kara’s fangs in her neck. Kara’s not even into that, anyway. “Why do you need to drive him crazy?”

“He was a dick, Kara, did you not hear that part?” she asks, like it logically follows that she should look good for him as a punishment. “Part two is the hickey I’ll have from my new boyfriend. The choker is just to draw his attention to it.”

“Your what?” Kara asks, lifting her head fast enough to make her bangs flop. “You have a new boyfriend?”

“No, you’d be the first to know,” Lena says, rolling her eyes. But it’s playful, like there’s a fire dancing behind them and both her and Kara are in it together. She always makes Kara feel so included. “The hickey is just to make him think I have a new boyfriend.”

“But you don’t have a hickey,” Kara points out. Lena just smiles, like it’s a silly thing to say, like there’s something Kara’s not getting that should be painfully obvious. And then suddenly it is painfully obvious. “Lena, I can’t–”

“Kara, it’s like six seconds of licking my neck, not the end of the world.” But i’m a vampire, Kara wants to say out loud, but that gives them a bad reputation. Really, she should say, but i’m in love with you. “You’re my best friend, who else am I gonna ask to do this? I need you.”

She pauses like she’s waiting for Kara to speak, but Kara’s mind is still stuck on lovelovelove, so Lena shrugs and says, “Fine, I’ll just grab a guy in the lounge.”

“No,” Kara blurts, like her mouth processes that faster than her brain. “I’ll do it.”

“Awesome,” Lena says.

“That’s what friends are for,” Lena says.

And then suddenly Lena’s close in front of her, with her flowery perfume and long lashes and exposed neck craned in the direction of Kara’s mouth. Suddenly Lena’s heart’s beating so fast, so loud, that Kara feels like she has one herself, feels like it’s practically jumping out of her chest.

Suddenly, crap, Kara’s fangs pop out, and she–god, she knows Lena knows what that means when it happens involuntarily, and she’s so incredibly embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, trying her best to bury her fangs in her bottom lip. She spent so many years telling herself they’re perfectly okay, but now they just seem so offensive and unwanted and why does she have them–she drinks blood from animals that’s packaged and uncontaminated. She’ll never, ever have to hunt for her food it’s such an ancient concept, ugh.

“For what?” Lena asks, as if she’s not even fazed, head still tilted as if Kara’s still supposed to like? Give her a hickey. With her fangs out, with her fangs that are trying to either express i want to eat you or i’m so turned on right now i could just… eat you or a combination of the two. “We have to hurry, need to leave soon so I can be just slightly late.”

Her voice sounds calm, low and even in that dreamy way that just screams Lena Luthor, but… Kara can hear her heart beat. Kara can hear the cadence of her breathing, can see how tense she is and how her chest is rising and she can smell, um, wow. Okay. It’s just–

Lena has been sending her pictures, Kara’s not imagining it, and sometimes it just. Sometimes it feels like they’re more risque than they should be, or like, more revealing. And they’re always accentuating her neck, even when Kara’s actively trying not to think about it.

And she could be crazy, could be batshit losing her mind so horny she’s making crap up crazy, but right now she can swear that Lena’s (at least a little, tiny bit) turned on.

And that, that’s a lot to handle, lot to figure out.

You know, like.

Kara could go with her gut and explain that, what? That she’s not interested in drinking Lena’s blood, if that’s what she’s searching for. But that wouldn’t be honest, would it? She’s been fantasizing about that for a while now, is the truth of it. Kara Danvers doesn’t spend her days fantasizing about necks, plural, she spends them thinking about Lena’s.

And now it’s right there, in front of her, angled towards her, and–christ, what is she even thinking. “Lena, I’m not drinking your blood, you know that. Stop this.”

Lena pouts, instantly, and then she sighs and says, “Fine, have it your way. I’m gonna get ice cream from the store, wanna tag along and get a blood-pop?”

“Yeah, of course,” Kara says, and then listens closely to the decrescendo of Lena’s heart beat, just hoping it’ll calm her imaginary one.

#supercorp #supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #my writing #asks #Anonymous

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slywood · 4 years ago

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Think of Yourself Less - Part 1

I didn’t wash the car. Sure, I picked up all my work papers. The mess on the floor was cleaned up. There were no stray pens, paper clips, or company bottle openers left astray. The interior was clean while the rest of the car was an unapologetic mess. I was never into cars, which is even more ironic, because I had just finished the process of buying a brand new one. Regardless, I took off in what my brother had tagged the “lesbian car” to pick up Hannah.

My brother and his wife were both on a mission to have me go out with Hannah. I was always adamant about not dating friends. No friends, no relatives of friends, and no ex’s. All of that sounded like too much drama for me. I was always the type of guy who was eager to date someone but just as anxious to figure out how to drop said girl. So it made sense that I didn’t want to be an asshole to someone I knew or was close to a friend. It just meant trouble.

Hannah was gorgeous though. I remember meeting her around ten years ago. My brother had invited me out. We met up with Hannah and maybe a half dozen of her friends. All of them were pretty, but Hannah stood out. I remember I had just moved to the city and wasn’t as outgoing as I’d eventually become. I didn’t talk to her much but I remember thinking how incredibly beautiful she was. I knew at some point I would give it a shot.

It was a few years later that my brother’s wife was urging me to date Hannah. I considered it but never wanted to pursue it. As I explained in my writings, I preferred for things to be natural. Encouraging someone to date their friend felt forced. It was almost like a blind date. Whenever I date a woman, I know that she’s interested. I know that the only thing standing in my way is myself. So I know what to do and how to do it because I’ve done it 100′s of times before. In this case, it was like a guessing game. So I never pursued it. I wanted to be patient and let it just happen, if it did.

Once again, Hannah was single. Once again, they encouraged me to date her. Not just once. Not even just a few times. Literally every time we hung out the idea of dating Hannah was brought up. It wasn’t even just my brother and his wife. Even Hannah would bring up the idea. She’d casually say, “Sure, I’d go out with him,” and I’d let it go without a response. I just smirked as if to suggest it was a silly joke. All the while, I considered it. At the same time, it felt like trouble.

I was drinking at my brother’s house when I tried to explain why I didn’t want to date Hannah. “It always ends badly for me,” I explained. I continued as they asked why by saying that no matter what, it just goes to shit. I don’t know why, but I lose interest, or something happens. It’s just the way it goes with me. Once I have sex with a girl, they typically get attached and the more that happens the more disinterested I become. I explained all this and yet they pushed.

Eventually, I relented. I called Hannah and asked her out. She told me her mom was sick though. I had no idea what that meant. It could have been a small scare or a life threatening illness. I had no idea. So when I asked for her plans for the weekend and she told me she was waiting on her mother’s results, I just wished her luck and didn’t bother asking her out again. Once she explained that she was doing better I decided to ask her out one last time. It was two weeks later and we finally had a date planned.

I picked her up in one of my work cars. One of the reasons my business took off was because I stopped reading, writing, and drawings and actually working. I sold my cool car. I got rid of all my vices. I didn’t drink, do drugs, or date. All I did was work. It’s been six years. I figured it didn’t matter. Hannah was a good person and didn’t give a shit about fancy things. I dressed up in a blazer, with a button down and some nice shoes though. I wanted to stay classy even if my car was a joke.

Right off the bat, I felt uncomfortable. I called her to let her know I was outside. There was no parking in front of her place so I was positioned a bit further up. I was about two cars ahead and hoped she’d just recognize the car. I’d driven her home in the past so I figured she would. I awkwardly turned around to see if she came out a few times. Everyone takes a few minutes to come out so I decided to stop looking over and just waited. Sure enough, she came over and opened the door.

Hannah was always nice. When she greeted you it was like she was always legitimately excited to say hello. I thought that was cool. I don’t think I could ever be like that on a constant basis. Still, it was nice to be greeted like that even if that was just her personality. Unfortunately, I’m a subtle guy. I can’t force a smile or pretend to be excited without a glass of booze. I figured I could mow through it though once I settled down with a glass of wine.

My biggest regret was going out with my brother the prior night. I had stopped by simply to collect a payment from him. I should’ve known better. For the past few months I’d been getting dinner with him and a friend at least once a week. It was a Friday night and I again was roped into dinner with them. To make matters worse, one of my key salesmen was out using a vacation day the next day. That meant I had to be up early and on time.

I’d quit drinking for about five years. My health was in serious jeopardy at the time. Once that cleared up, I worried that I was an alcoholic. It took me a long time to actually crack and have a sip of wine. Temptation was easy to avoid, but my ex-girlfriend was the only one who actually finally got me to cave. Women, men, even employees and clients always tried to get me to drink with them. It was easy to deny them all. For some reason, my ex was the only one who could.

Alcohol helped me relax. It wasn’t something I needed, until it was. I know that’s typically what you hear from an alcoholic, but in my case, I was different. The reason I had a problem is because I’m epileptic. Drinking is a depressant which means it actually helps suppress any seizure activity. My disorder is well managed, and alcohol itself won’t actually cause me to get sick, it’s the withdrawal that kills me. So yea, I got stuck in a vicious circle where I battled withdrawal with alcohol. Rewind to one of my first stories and you’ll see first hand how trapped I was.

I was five cocktails deep that night. It was way more than I ever intended to have. I simply was not a cocktail drinker, never was. I wasn’t even a whiskey or scotch guy anymore. I could enjoy one, but having multiple meant I wouldn’t be able to sleep well. If I took a shot, it meant I would wake up in the dead of night and then struggle to go back to sleep. Sleep is important for my condition. Sleep is something I did not get that night as I woke up at 4AM and tossed and turned for the next few hours.

Work is something I’ve taken seriously. It’s something I had to commit to entirely. My entire family relied on me to save something that was unsalvageable. I don’t brag, I don’t embellish or lie, and I certainly don’t care what other people thing about me. So when I write, I piss away certain guidelines like, don’t let the truth get in the way of telling a good story. No, I just lay it out the way it is. The truth is, I destroyed myself for over five years to literally save my family. You might say that I really did it for myself and my future, but the truth is, I always felt like I allowed the family business to collapse by never getting involved earlier. I felt like it was my fault, so I way now paying my dues. It was my penance for 10 years of debauchery.

It makes sense that I don’t need alarm clocks. I always wake up on time. I literally wake up one hour earlier on the dot every single morning. Unfortunately, alcohol fucks that up. It means I overcompensate and then I panic. The fear that I won’t be able to sleep and have an attack is something that has always plagued me. Even when I was sleeping around with women I would often not stay the night solely for this reason.

One of the coolest and most beautiful women I’ve ever been with was a victim of this. I actually left her in the dead of night to go back to my hotel room and I knew that probably made her feel like shit, but I was terrified that I might have a seizure the next morning. So I left, but I made sure to call her later and tell her how awesome she was and how I hoped to see her again.

It was 4AM though. That meant I only got around two hours of sleep in when I needed at least 6 to 8. I was in a seriously bad spot as I got up from bed at 7 AM. I felt anxious and I stared at my hands. It was my hands that told me everything. If they twitched, jerked, or shook, I was in trouble. I didn’t feel any of that. Instead, I just felt on edge. So I went ot work and mowed through the day. Saturdays we close at 4PM. I was able to last until 2. I told my general manager that I was done. I needed sleep. He nodded and told me to take it easy. He just assumed I was overworked. I guess I was.

I was in the car with Hannah and I actually mentioned that I left work early that day to go to sleep. I don’t know if I was trying to laugh it off or find some kind of excuse for why I was a bit anxious. When we spoke I was quick to answer. It was weird because I’m not a fast talker. I guess when I’m anxious I try to hide the fact by speaking quickly. I think speaking quickly is my way of trying not to overthink things. My mind always goes 100mph. That night I was speaking without thinking at all.

Hannah mentioned that we didn’t have to go so far to get dinner. I told her I wanted to go somewhere new though. I liked the city she lived in but it was cool to try new spots. I then tried to tell a quick story about a Portuguese restaurant I had gone to with my friend’s wife and how much we hated it. She asked me a few details about the place and said she’d been there and enjoyed it. I was in the midst of telling her how much I hated the place to suddenly saying, “Oh, yea. I mean I must’ve just ordered something weird. I mean I ordered Quail. So yea, probably not that bad.”

As soon as that happened, it was etched into my mind. What. The. Fuck? That was the most pathetic exchange I’ve ever been apart of. I’ve seen guys do that. I’ve witnessed the aftermath. I know that’s like watching an evisceration. I had just forfeited all my convictions, all my integrity. I don’t lie. So why the fuck did I just turn into an appeasing little boy? Hannah was still sitting in the passenger seat as I drove us to the restaurant. I didn’t have time to think it over. Still, I knew I had just stepped into quicksand. The only real question was, could I get out?

#dating #first date #oh no

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 5 years ago

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Royal Growing Pains - Chapter Four

A/N: I can see that I’ve gained quite a few followers for this particular story over the past week since I posted chapter three! I just want to say welcome, and I hope you enjoy the ride!

Warnings: Homophobia, transphobia, misgendering, sympathetic Deceit

Royal Growing Pains Tag

Roman climbed in the car, where Damien was already waiting. He appeared to have finally gotten some of his voice back, because he said, “You look good.”

“Thank you,” Roman said. “I much prefer jeans and a t-shirt to any dress I’ve had to wear, ever.”

“Understandable, but I wasn’t referring to your clothes,” Damien said. “You’re holding your head high, your shoulders are back and squared, and your voice is more confident and more compassionate at once. You come across as...well...regal.”

“I’m acting like a prince, you mean?” Roman asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“I...suppose so,” Damien said with a sheepish grin. “It does sound silly, doesn’t it?”

“Only a little,” Roman laughed. “It’s easy to forget that people see you as royalty sometimes, until it’s thrown in your face. Because I don’t feel any different than any of my other, non-royal friends.”

“True. We’re all human at the end of the day,” Damien agreed. “And human nature seems to be forgetting that fact.”

Roman laughed as they drove into town, and Damien asked, “So, a paint bar? Or grabbing art supplies?”

“I think I’d rather just get the art supplies,” Roman said. “That way, we can save whatever materials we don’t use for a later date.”

Damien nodded. “Sounds good,” he agreed. “Virgil, do you know where the art store is?”

Virgil sighed. “Yes, I’ll take you there, but I won’t be happy about it. And if you get paint splatter everywhere again, I will be telling your parents how your clothes got ruined.”

“It’s nothing a little rubbing alcohol and laundry detergent couldn’t fix,” Damien protested.

Roman snickered. “Not much of an artist, then?” he asked.

“I will admit I have had...multiple issues when it comes to art supplies. It wasn’t just the glitter when I was young,” Damien said.

“Yeah, he tried pottery, painting, dry media, wet media, any and everything, right down to graphite pencils and later, photography. He always ends up covered in something,” Virgil piped up.

Damien sighed. “Thank you, Virgil, for enlightening Roman to my shortcomings.”

“You’re welcome!” Virgil responded brightly.

“No, I—” Damien cut himself short. “You know what? Fine. Whatever.”

Roman laughed as they pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car. “Oh, come on, Damien, it’s funny! And it’s nice to know that you’re not perfect.”

Damien rolled his eyes and they made their way inside the store, Virgil beside them all the while, glancing around. “I’ll let you take the lead on finding paints,” Damien said. “I assume you’d know far more about what is and isn’t a good paint brand from experience. Just bear in mind that I’m a beginner, so please be kind and explain art jargon if I ask?”

“Of course,” Roman said with a smile. “I’m always willing to explain to someone who wants to learn! Remus and I used to talk about the things we had learned from different experiments in our preferred arts. I enjoyed painting and drawing, mostly different scenes of places I’d been or would like to go. Remus preferred writing. Often violent, gruesome, and dark stories, but it made him happy whenever he thought of something new. We’d swap creations and tell each other what we liked about them. I miss those days...It’s not that we couldn’t do it anymore, but we have less time to pursue our passion projects.”

“I know the feeling,” Damien sighed. “I am pursuing a degree in History, but I would love to teach philosophy, given half the chance.”

“Really?” Roman asked in mild surprise. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Most people don’t,” Damien replied easily. “But I loved reading about philosophy ever since I was a young child.”

“Huh,” Roman said. “The more you know.”

“Indeed,” Damien said. “Now. The paints?”

“Oh! Right,” Roman said, heading further inside the store in the general direction he thought the paints might be. Damien gave him an amused smile and Roman rolled his eyes. “Shut up. You’ve been distracted by conversation before, surely?”

“I will admit to nothing,” Damien said simply, but he was smirking.

“That’s basically saying yes,” Roman informed him.

“Ah, but it is not a definitive answer,” Damien pointed out.

Roman rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at Damien. Damien laughed. “Not very princely behavior,” he teased.

“It’s just us here, no one has to say anything,” Roman shot back.

Damien’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Ah, but what if I want to? You may have to buy my silence.”

“Oh yeah? And how would I do that?” Roman asked.

Damien smiled enigmatically.

“Oh come on, that’s mean!” Roman laughed. “Tell me!”

Damien’s eyes looked around conspiratorially, before he whispered in Roman’s ear, “Get us to lose the chaperone.”

Roman looked at Damien in surprise, and Damien just smirked back. Roman looked around, noticing one of the smaller aisles that had children’s art supplies. He grabbed Damien’s hand and ran down the aisle while Virgil looked behind them, and then sprinted down the back of the store until they reached the paints. Roman looked around, smirking. “Not bad, eh? And we got where we were going!”

Damien grinned. “Oh, Virgil is going to kill us both.”

Roman laughed. “It was your idea! I’m innocent!”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Damien said, nodding.

Roman laughed, looking at the different paints the store had to offer. “What do you think, oil or acrylic?”

“Don’t oil paints require paint thinner to use?” Damien asked.

“In some cases,” Roman agreed. “So maybe not oil today. I should probably make sure that you can paint at all before I bring out the fancy supplies.”

“There’s also watercolors,” Damien pointed out.

Roman shrugged. “True, but those are very tricky to use as well. If you’re not careful, you could wind up with mud as a picture.”

“Acrylic it is, then,” Damien said, walking up next to Roman. “Which brand should we get, and how much paint would we need?”

“A starter’s kit for each of us should be enough for now,” Roman said. “They have a deceptive amount of paint in them. Or, if you want something bigger, we could invest in tubes of cyan, magenta, and yellow. That’s how you can mix more vibrant colors.”

Damien hummed. “I think that if we’re going to be spending some time away from your art supplies, we should get the larger tubes, if only so you have more to work with. Cyan, magenta, and yellow? Should we get black and white as well for shades and tints?”

“Probably a good idea. I’m impressed with your knowledge of terminology,” Roman said.

Damien waved him off. “Trust me, Your Highness, the terminology is about all I’m good at when it comes to art.”

Roman laughed, just as Virgil dashed into the aisle. “You!” he exclaimed, pointing at the two of them. “You two are in huge trouble!”

“Uh-oh, he found us,” Damien stage-whispered, and Roman snickered.

Virgil stalked over, breath heaving in his chest. “Do you two have any idea how terrified I was when I turned back around and you weren’t there?!”

“Virgil, we’re not toddlers, that tactic won’t work on us,” Damien said, arching an unimpressed eyebrow.

Virgil’s nostrils flared. “I thought the two of you were about to be seriously hurt. It’s my job to look out for the two of you and you treat it like it’s a game to get away from me when any number of people out here could be waiting for a chance to kill you.”

Roman felt just a tiny bit guilty. “We weren’t trying to make your job harder Virgil, we just...wanted some privacy.”

Virgil looked between them. Damien’s face revealed nothing, and Roman shrugged as if to say, What else do you want from me?

“Next time you want to make out, at least tell me where you’ll be making your attempt so I can make sure no one’s coming over,” Virgil growled.

“We will, Virgil, rest assured,” Damien said.

Roman sputtered. “We weren’t trying to make out!” he protested.

Virgil shrugged. “Why else would you want privacy?”

“We could be sharing secrets, or just want a moment to talk by ourselves without worrying about anyone else overhearing, for any reason! We don’t immediately go to the gutter when you’re not around!”

“Just immediately, hm?” Virgil asked.

“I...no! No, that is not what I meant and you know it!” Roman protested.

Damien and Virgil were both smirking to various degrees and Roman huffed. “You’re both being incredibly mean,” he growled. “And if that continues, you’ll both end up covered in paint by the end of the day.”

Virgil’s smirk dropped but Damien just shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” he simply said.

“But it would be the last,” Virgil warned. “Because I’m not getting in trouble for you being covered in paint, and I would never allow you near art supplies again.”

Damien held his hands up in surrender. “All right, all right, I’m done.”

“You promise?” Roman pressed.

“Yes, yes, I promise. If it means I get the chance to paint with you, then I won’t push this subject any further.”

Roman smiled, and proceeded to pick out some beginner’s acrylic paint, grabbed two brush sets, and then asked, “Mixed media paper, or canvas, do you think?”

“Canvas,” Damien said. “Much easier for me to work with a bigger surface that is very clearly not a table.”

Roman laughed. “Okay, then. Canvas.”

“Maybe easels, too? We could do some on-site painting with those,” Damien pointed out. “And we have quite the scenery at the base of the mountain. It could be fun.”

“Sure,” Roman agreed. “Do you not have any easels remaining after your painting escapades?”

Damien coughed. “Well...my parents may or may not have tried to deter me from future endeavors by not keeping the materials around.”

Roman giggled. “Oh, it was really that bad?”

“Hush, you’re hardly one to talk,” Damien said. “You have plenty of embarrassing stories, too.”

“True, but they’re not relevant to this conversation,” Roman chirped.

Damien glared at Roman. “Traitor,” he muttered.

Roman just offered him a grin in response. Damien glanced away and gravitated towards a sign that said the easels were in that aisle. Roman followed, paint in hand, and Virgil trailed behind them again. Damien picked out two smaller easels, and then turned to Roman. “Canvases?” he asked.

“Right,” Roman said.

They grabbed a pack of canvases and went to the front of the shop and rang everything up. Once they had everything in the car, Virgil looked at them. “Where will you two be painting?” he asked.

“I was thinking halfway up the mountain, where we have quite the view of farmland, it’s beautiful scenery,” Damien offered.

“Sounds good to me,” Roman agreed.

“All right, I’ll drive the two of you up there,” Virgil said. “But if I see any shenanigans with paint I will kill both of you.”

Damien gave Virgil a playful salute. “Whatever you say, Your Highness,” he said, voice soaked in sarcasm.

Virgil took a deep breath. “You’re really dead set on testing my patience aren’t you?”

Damien shrugged. “Well, you seem to be dead set on telling me what I can and cannot do when I’m my own individual, so it only makes sense to balance the scales somewhat.”

“Oh, you are playing a very dangerous game, Your Highness,” Virgil warned. “Get in the car.”

Damien gave Roman a very satisfied smirk as he did as told and Roman followed him into the car. Virgil shut the door a little harder than necessary as he got in as well. He drove them to a point that Damien picked out and then Roman and Damien got their supplies out of the car, setting up the easels and canvases so they were facing the farmland. “This should be fun,” Roman said with a smile as Virgil continued up the mountain. “And it looks like we’ll be on our own for a bit.”

“We’re close enough to the castle that the guards can watch us from there and pick us up if need be,” Damien said simply. “So we’re not necessarily ‘alone’ but we do have some space.”

“Some much needed space,” Roman said, looking out at the farmland below and taking the paints, before gasping. “We forgot the palettes!”

“Oh, damn it,” Damien muttered.

Roman laughed. “That was not a very princely response,” he teased.

Damien rolled his eyes. “Very funny, Your Highness. What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Roman said. “I suppose we could mix the paint on the canvas, go for a slightly more abstract way of painting.”

“Well, unless we want to call Virgil back down here, that’s what we’ll have to do,” Damien sighed.

“Yeah, I don’t want to call Virgil down over this,” Roman said, shaking his head. He grabbed the tube of cyan paint and popped the cap, pouring some onto his canvas...or attempting to. Nothing was coming out. “That’s weird,” Roman muttered. He turned the tube so he could see the opening, and gently squeezed. Paint splattered out of the tube, all over Roman’s face, and he sputtered as Damein burst into hysterics. “Oh, you think this is funny, do you?” Roman asked, picking up a glob of paint and flinging it at Damien’s face.

Damien stood stock still for a second, before he slowly reached for the magenta paint and poured some onto his fingers, flicking it onto Roman’s arm.

“Oh, this means war,” Roman said, pointing the tube of cyan at Damien and squeezing again, getting paint all over Damien’s shirt.

“How dare you!” Damien exclaimed, laughing. He poured out more magenta and smeared it across Roman’s face, getting some in his hair.

Roman cackled as he grabbed the yellow and used both tubes to smear paint over Damien, while Damien took the magenta and black and returned the favor. They chased each other around the easels, and Roman squealed as he lost his footing running backwards and nearly fell straight to the dirt, only to have Damien wrap an arm around the small of Roman’s back, catching him in a dip. The two were laughing and breathless, and Roman muttered, “Hi,” to Damien.

“Hi,” Damien laughed back. “Truce?”

Roman considered it, looked at the yellow paint he hadn’t dropped, and grinned, saying, “Nah,” and squirting paint directly into Damien’s wavy hair.

“How dare you?!” Damien exclaimed. “And I kept you from falling, too! I had to sacrifice my black paint to do that!”

Roman laughed and got back on his feet, exclaiming, “Catch me if you can!” as he flung one last glob of yellow paint at Damien before running away.

Now, Roman was fast, but Damien was undoubtedly the taller of the two of them, and he managed to catch up to Roman quickly, snagging the back of Roman’s shirt. He pulled Roman into a bear hug, effectively getting paint all over both of them. “Virgil is gonna kill us!” he laughed.

Roman shrieked with laughter and wriggled out of Damien’s grasp, shoving him to the ground and pinning him there as Roman grabbed all the cyan off his face that he could and painting little clouds all over Damien’s face. He was shaking so hard from his laughter he could barely make the shapes.

“Hey!” a sharp voice hollered from the top of the mountain. “What did I just tell you two?!”

Roman and Damien shared a brief horrified glance before Damien was on his feet and grabbed Roman’s wrist, yelling, “Run!”

They both sprinted their way down the mountain, but soon found themselves outnumbered by guards driving their way down the road to barricade them in. Virgil barrelled down the mountain, breath heaving in his chest. “I said no shenanigans with the paint!” he exclaimed.

Damien pointed at Roman. “Roman started it!”

“What?!” Roman asked. “Did not! It wasn’t my fault that the paint tube squirted into my face!”

“But it is your fault that the paint was subsequently thrown onto my face,” Damien said.

“You didn’t have to laugh!”

“You didn’t have to retaliate!”

“Boys!” Virgil snapped. “I don’t care who started what, you both are complicit in the shenanigans and you’re both covered in paint! What am I supposed to tell your parents, huh?!”

“I imagine you’ll tell them you left us alone for five minutes under the impression that we could be mature and turned to look at how we were faring once you reached the top of the mountain only to find us having a paint fight below,” Damien said, completely deadpan and with a straight face that Roman couldn’t possibly hope to achieve.

“You both are walking up the hill and will be getting cleaned up before dinner this evening. I imagine that most of the dignitaries coming to congratulate you two on your engagement will not want to see the two of you covered head to toe in paint.”

“Why do we have to walk up the mountain, though?” Damien asked.

“Because we are not getting the back seats of any of the guards’ cars covered in acrylic paint!” Virgil hissed. “Do you have any idea how easily that stains?”

Roman raised his hand. “Actually, I do, and it’s not as bad as you might think,” he said.

Virgil glowered at him and Roman promptly shut up, following Damien and Virgil back up to the castle. Damien hissed as they approached the top. “Our mothers are waiting for us,” he whispered to Roman.

“Shit, what?!” Roman asked in clear panic. His mother was going to kill him!

Damien took one look at Roman and grabbed his hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she doesn’t chew into you too much.”

As they reached the top, the two queens looking at them with twin unamused expressions, Damien scratched the back of his neck. “It’s...uh, my fault,” he said quickly. “One of the paint tubes exploded in my face on accident, I started the paint fight.”

“Damien —!” Roman hissed.

Damien held a hand up at hip level to stop Roman. “It won’t happen again,” Damien assured.

“You’re right, Damien, it won’t,” the Queen said. “Because you are not going to be allowed near any of Veronica’s art supplies for the remainder of the week.” Ouch. And not just because of the use of his deadname, even if it was for his safety.

Roman’s mother looked at him and he inwardly braced himself for what he knew was coming. “Veronica, I’m disappointed in you!” she exclaimed. “I raised you better than for you to engage in a paint fight! That’s not very ladylike behavior for any woman, let alone a princess!”

He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from snarling at his mother, but he just nodded stiffly. “Of course,” he practically growled. But I’m not a princess.

His mother kept staring at him, but Roman was not going to give her the satisfaction of apologizing. Not to her. “Damien, you didn’t get any paint in your eyes, right?”

“Yes, I can still see,” Damien confirmed.

“Good,” Roman said, nodding. “Then we should probably change and get cleaned up. Virgil’s right; I doubt any visitors would appreciate the fine art that is...well, fighting with art.”

Damien barked a laugh, before covering his mouth with a hand. “I suppose you’re right,” he said with mirth in his eyes. “Although I must admit I like you in pants, they seem to do wonders for your confidence. Maybe tonight a pantsuit for dinner would be appropriate?”

Roman felt his heart soar at the excuse right there for him to take. “Sounds perfect,” he agreed, and together the two of them walked into the castle, while their mothers sent them one last look and a warning to behave.

Tag List: @lunareclipse-13 @sanders-sides-crofters @blushy-gigglee-mess @wannacrymetoo @kaytikitty @magicalspacepanunicorn @bootsinthesun @pricklyfish777 @flowersanddinosaurs @leiasolo77 @birdybabybird @enby-phoenix @luna–28 @justagaygoose @the-prince-and-the-emo @fandomsandanythingelse @randommuffinyt @snekky-boi @thesoftestlittlepuffballwegot @twilight-trix @abby5577 @escalatingtoofast @friendlyfacestabbing @remus-is-stinky @foggybanditdreampeanut @ghostskull300 @sprinklestheditty @canvas-the-florist @askthesnake @samuel-the-gay @determination-saved @sparrowofsong @beyondthestacks @juicy-cashew @loganpatton @lilbeanblr @kittyboof8 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @sanders-trash-4ever @hamilspntrash @swords-and-kittens @phantomfander @narniasfinestavengingsociopath @rjmeta @ambersky0319 @anni-cat-flower @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @nafsbluebery @redisawerewolf23 @voidvirgil

#roceit #sanders sides fanfiction #roman sanders #deceit sanders #virgil sanders #royal growing pains #our creations

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i-jus-wanna-writehappy · 5 years ago

Text

Striking [1/?]

Pairing: Poe Dameron x fem!Reader

Warnings: cursing, but we’re used to that in this house

Author’s Note: Wow, I really have two series for Poe Dameron that I put before my other upcoming pieces in the works simultaneously? Yes, I do, Hoe Dameron, at your service right here. This part is really short, but I hope you enjoy!

Tags: @thotyana-in-this-hoe @neeadinghugs

Masterlist Black Girl Insert Series (Poe is landing himself on here too for any that are interested)

* * *

Poe hates running, but he needs to get the Stormtroopers away from the civilians before any real shooting starts, and luckily, he’s made himself a good enough name as rebel scum to draw enough attention to get chased in the first place. And even luckier, the Stormtroopers are such dumb fuckin lackies that the whole little squadron follows him.

A series of urgent beeps sound beside him and Poe groans, “I know that BB-8, but a group of running civilians make harder targets than a group of cornered ones.” The droid gives an unconvincing beep that makes Poe huff.

He was hoping to find a mound of rocks or parts or a hill, just something he could duck behind to get some good shots in. There are only six on his tail, and a good cover could easily make that zero. But his legs are starting to cramp and the land is still flat and not really trashed. Great for you guys, as shit as shit can get for him.

Poe is almost considering trying his odds in the open when he sees his best option: two incredibly close buildings creating an alley, and probably, something within the alley to allow him cover to do his thing. Just like he’d hoped, there is a large public disposal bin in the alley and he runs right to it, cursing when he sees that it’s already occupied.

You look up at him, eyes wide before grabbing the waistband of his pants and yanking him down, “Is it your goal to get us caught or are you just ignorant in the ways of surviving a war?” You sass as you continue ushering the huddle of people behind the bin with you through a small ground level window. “Actually, I’m -“ You cut him off with a hand over his mouth, “Shut up.” Before he can argue, Poe hears it too, the Stormtroopers ran past the alley the first time around, but their pea sized - it’s a low blow, but they’re evil, so he doesn’t beat himself up over the thought - brains must have figured it out before they got too far. “Don’t make a sound. You’re gonna have to get your droid down there yourself.” You whisper before removing your hand from his face and standing, putting your hand on the handle of a blaster you had tucked into the back of your pants.

You’re off before Poe can tell you that he is part of the Resistance, not a civilian. A young man, maybe even a teenager, holds his hands up through the window, “Your droid. I can take it then we can help you down.” Poe gives a huff of amusement and grabs the latch of the window, “I appreciate it kid, but I’m the reinforcements here.” He answers before closing the window.

Poe pulls out his blaster and sees that you have shot three of the Stormtroopers already, quickly making work of the last three before turning to face him. “Maker, are you trying to get yourself killed?” You huff, exasperated. “Put that thing away before you hurt somebody.” You order, pointing at his blaster. You’re so busy being upset, even bringing BB-8 into your point, that you don’t notice the Stormtrooper running up on your right, blaster of their own out and ready.

At least, you don’t notice until Poe shoots the Stormtrooper himself and pulls you into the mouth of the alley by your hand. “Luckily I didn’t listen to you or you’d be dead.” Poe chides, giving his blaster a little wiggle. You give a small laugh before peeking your head out of the alley to check for safety before stepping out. There are a few more areas you know people will be hiding that will not be very secure for long, and the stubborn, albeit cute, man refusing to listen to you was nothing but an attractive distraction you could not afford. “Get down that window.” You tell him again, actually stepping out of the alley now, “And you should still put that blaster away.” You finish slyly, not looking back.

BB-8 releases a short series of exasperated beeps and Poe gives the droid a chuckle, “You got that right, buddy.” He responds as he jogs up to you, “No, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you: I am the help here. I’m with the Resistance.” He beams proudly, feeling a little silly for what may have been a slightly heroic tone when you stop and look him over, gaze flickering to the little circular droid - who happens to be posing heroically itself, tiny ball of a head high on its tiny ball of a body - and back to him again. “THE Resistance? You’re with THE Resistance, or is it more that you fight for what’s right and consider yourself part of the Resistance?” And now Poe definitely feels silly, and a bit offended.

“Of course I’m with - my flight suit didn’t strike you at all?” With a jerk of your shoulder, you give Poe a not at all convincing apologetic smile, “I don’t concern myself with what people choose to wear unless it includes a bucket on their head... Huh, a real member of the Resistance.” Now that sly smile that Poe only got to hear earlier returns to your face, “I thought you might be a little taller, you know? A little more in your face, more striking.” You finish with a wrinkle of your nose before gesturing for Poe to follow you with a toss of your head. Poe looks to BB-8 first this time, “I’m striking.” He defends himself, and BB-8 beeps reassuringly as they follow you.

#poe dameron #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron fic #fem!reader #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #star wars fic #hoe dameron #poe dameron series

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