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newmusicradionetwork · 4 months ago

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D Boone Pittman “Better Days”

D Boone Pittman, the Country/Americana songwriter, performer, and current 8-time Josie Award nominee, is thrilled to announce the release of his fourth single off his studio album, Resurrection Noise, “Better Days”. Pittman’s music has always been tethered to his roots. A product of Appalachia, Pittman’s songwriting captures the depths and majesty of his homeland while giving the listener a front row vantage point to the culture and history. Pittman writes and sings about this culture and history with an authority given only to those who have lived in the area. From the historical ballads like “Casey Jones” (from the Emerge, LP) and “Furnace Mountain” (from Bluegrass American Dream) to the relational angst expressed in songs like “She Likes the Beach” or “Bardstown Train”, Pittman consistently represents his heritage in song. It’s a formula that works, and his new project is no different. In the same way he approached the hardships of the pandemic with Emerge, Pittman tackles two new topics with his album Resurrection Noise. The 10 track LP deals mostly with the subject matter of the tragic eastern Kentucky flooding from 2022, with some light hints to the passing of his father “Jackie” Pittman in 2021. “East of Ravenna”, the advanced single from the project, is meant to project hope to those still dealing with being displaced and/or grieving the loss of loved ones affected by the floods. In the same way “East of Ravenna” is meant to offer hope, “Better Days” gives us a look at a fictional family dealing with the aftermath of the event through the eyes of hope. “The family could have been anyone”, says Pittman. “There were over 9000 homes affected by the storms, and they all have their own story. This is just one I created.” While staying true to the key themes of the album, “Better Days” closes out the project with the hope the victims in thirteen different eastern KY counties are still leaning on, even today in 2024. Music Career / Bio Pittman’s musical story begins in the early 1970s at the grand opening of the local town drug store. His late father, from whom Pittman would later inherit his trademark Martin D-28 acoustic guitar, basically forced him to sing a Johnny Cash song, much to the delight of the crowd that had gathered there. Pittman, though he immediately received enthusiastic accolades and even tips, wasn’t havin’ it. “I hated it,” he recalls, “but I In my room, I’m playing air guitar and pretending to be Elvis, but to do it in public as a kid was tough. It wasn’t that I struggled doing it, it was just more the fact that I was being made to do something. That ended up driving me into a phase where I refused to sing out in public at all.” Even going to a Johnny Cash concert at the age of 5 with his mother wasn’t enough to lure Pittman back into the spotlight, and transcribing the lyrics to hit songs off 45s for his father didn’t quite do the trick eitherbut it did lay the groundwork for the lyrical depth and flair that Pittman showed so effortlessly right off the bat with his 2019 debut Bluegrass American Dream. “My dad would pay me a dollar a song to sit down and figure the words out for him,” Pittman chuckles. “I have to really question how good I was at it because I was so young, but I guess he was able to use it. Who knows how many of the lines I’d get right at the end of the day, but I think that’s when I got my first appreciation for lyrics.” “Back when I was 7 or 8,” he continues, “country rock was really big, and ‘Lyin’ Eyes’ by The Eagles was a big hit. I remember that song specifically because there were so many verses in it. Even at that age, I could appreciate the darkness behind the cheating and the lying and everything in that song.” Pittman’s resistance to performing in front of people went out the window, however, when he got the opportunity to go on a field trip as a freshman in high school. “All the girls were going,” Pittman laughs. “It was an academic competition, and they had a talent category. I specifically remember the teacher saying, ‘I need somebody to fill the talent spot. You get to go on this three-day trip to Louisville and compete.’ So, I raised my hand. ‘Well, what’s your talent?’ she asked. And I said, ‘I sing and play guitar.’ Nobody knew I sang and played guitarbecause I didn’t! So, I’m thinking I’ve got six weeks between now and this talent show, and that was when I had to swallow my pride. I go to my dad and I’m like, ‘Look, I’m ready to learn how to play guitar. I want to do this.’ And my dad was like, ‘You’re crazier than hellI can’t teach you how to play in six weeks!’ I was like, ‘Just think of the easiest bluegrass tune that you know, and I’ll run with it.’ So he taught me how to play a medley of “Jimmy Brown The Newsboy” and “Wildwood Flower”, but his style of playing was like Maybelle Carter, where they played the melody and the rhythm at the same time.” The trip, alas, got cancelled, but Pittman’s life path was set. (By the way, he learned the song in four weeks). Pittman captures this story in a tribute to his Dad on Resurrection Noise with the song “The Wildwood Flower”. “There was just no running from it,” he muses. “I had an undeniable love for music, and singing came naturally to me. I’ve never put it down since.” As a tribute to his father, Pittman adopted The Fugitives band name, but he sees his work as carrying on an even broader legacy. “I grew up in an environment where it was a common thing for people to bring their instruments over on the weekendsbanjos, fiddles and guitars where everybody was singing and just having a good time. That was a really crucial aspect of my childhood. I really miss that. You don’t have that front-porch picking kind of spirit anymore, at least not where I’m at. So whatever I can do to bring it back with my music, I feel like I have to at least try.” In other words, Pittman is inviting you back homeback home to a world that still has room for community, back home to the most cherished aspects of your past and back home to yourself. You don’t have to be from Kentucky for his music to take you there, but D Boone Pittman sure does make it seem like a wonderful place to explore on the way. Additional Artist/Song Information: Artist Name: D Boone Pittman Song Title: Better Days Publishing: Darrell Pittman Publishing Affiliation: BMI Album Title: Resurrection Noise Record Label: D Boone Pittman Music Record Label: Boonetown Darrell Pittman 5027092631 [email protected] Booking Agent: indie artist booking & management Billy Halls 859.539.3530 [email protected] Read the full article

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acecream-and-cake · 1 year ago

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Hi anon. This is not ok. Screaming never solves a problem. I can imagine from his point of view, threatening to break your phone is a hope to spur you into action with the prospect of losing something of value. This only works if you can but simply refused to do chores. Like negotiating about the price/incentive for working labour/tasks. But you are rather not unwilling but unable to perform the tasks, either because you miss a skillset or because of physical limitation, like your body being repulsed by some sensory input.

As for practical advice, it is very difficult to give advice, without knowing the whole situation and reactions, wether both parties are ready to make a new communication strategy work and whatnot. Be advised, all I can do is make suggestions. You will have to evaluate yourself wether they are helpful or will actually escalate the situation.

Also, some of the methods only work if your dad genuinely believes you want to try and works with you to get things in order. And he needs to understand, changing this routine needs time and patience and there will be setbacks. It won't be a solution, this is about getting an improvememt, ok?

This might actually be the hardest part of all. Don't be discouraged however. Life will get better when you get older, being a teenager is a phase and I am glad I grew out if that. My relationship with my parents even improved somehwat. Best wishes and some advice for you in that regard:

Chores: to not keep forgetting chores, google ADHD tips. For example, use some kind of colored plastic wristbands with littelle nametags. Write recurring chores on them, if you get asked to do things, immediately take the band and put it on. If your dad starts to talk about chores, ask him to wait a moment, so you can get the jar of chore-bands. If it is a non-recurring task, immediatley write it on a piece of paper, with a color and put that unlabeled color on your arm.

Designate a place for the chore paper, like the fridge or a pictureframe in your room. Always place it there. Always. If you see the colores bands you know you still need to do something. But you don't need to remember what, you can read it. When you start tasks, go through all open tasks, start one ignore rest. Repeat.

If you can't perform a task, write down why, is it a sensory issue? If you get stuck because all open tasks can't be done by you, tell your father not only which task but also try to explain why you can't. Work on a solution, maybe offer doing another task, show you want to pull your weight, but for you that chore in particular is a weight you can't push yet or maybe with your range of motion never will.

If you are expected to remember yourself which recurring chores to do, make a sheet for 7 days write down the chores on the days, even if they are only every 2nd or 4th week. Put it somewhere where you start your day and place the jar next to it, like in your underwear drawer. Start your day with the bands you need to do before school, or come back for bands after school.

Also talk to your dad if you need what I call "decompression time". I can never start household chores after coming home from work. I need at least 30-45min me-time. Sometimes I nap, sometimes up to 2h, sometimes I am on tumblr, listen to music or read comics. I need that time, otherwise I can't start tasks but still worry about them and get into a guilty spiral without getting anything done. Nowadays I take "time-off" and afterwards I have the energy for at least some tasks. Seldom all of them. But before it was none, so thats improvement. As I said, not a solution, but better than the starting point.

Personal hygiene: that is tricky. As with chores, look up other neurodivergent life-hacks. Try out which ones help you.

Hair: maybe get a different cut. I rock an undercut nowadays, and my very thick hair is less nasty because my head actually gets some air, I even enjoy growing it out on the top. I switched my shampoo to a block of solid-shampoo which I just rub over my scalp, also I need some conditioner and found one I don't need to rinse. You are supposed to use it after the shower. I use it inside, and rinse it partly because this was the only way the texture didn't give me sensory discomfort. I don't use it as advertised but this works for me

Brushing teeth: I still struggle at age mid-thirty, because in my country literally every adult toothpaste is mint-flavoured. Took me until last year to realize I have a mild allergic reaction to mint, like in my gums feel mildly on fire or like a rash, after brushing. (This is why you should take kids complaints about pain and discomfort serious, guys.) Try switching to a kids toothpaste and see if it helps with sensory issues. read that ingredient list: I can't stand mint, menthol, sodium-laural-sulfate (sls). Check if there is one with the same amount of fluor as an adult one or as in the pharmacy if they have some fluor gel stuff you can take weekly to top up.

Showering: never was a problem for me so all out of ideas? Is it a specific sensory trigger? If it's hair, try showering only neck down, a friend of mine also uses dry shampoo for their hair. Or use a washcloth instead of actually running water. Try sitting down in the shower, see if positioning helps. I didn't really have a self-awareness as a teenager of my body and how dirty it was or wasn't, or my own smell. So maybe like me, stick to a schedule: shower (or washcloth) on mon-wed-fri mornings, shower after excercise/on P.E. days; depending on the weekend plans either bath or shower on sat or sun.

Hope this helps in some way. Feel free to PM me, no matter how trivial or silly you think it may sound. Find ways to improve your quality of life on your terms.

Is it okay if my dad screams at me for having hygiene problems and not doing chores. I'm 16 and autistic(undiagnosed because he doesn't want to 'label' me), I go days without showering or brushing my hair at least partially due to sensory issues, as a result I often look messy. My dad tells at me for this

I also often forget to do chores around the house, this enrages my dad so he screams at me , sometime for almost an hour at a time. He said he wants to break my phone because of this.

What should I do?

Any advice from followers?

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my-names-angel-but-im-not-one · 2 years ago

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Mc That's like Wednesday

First Meet

Pairing: Obey me character x mc! That's like Wednesday !!

Tw warning: mention of gore?

Part-1 Part-2

The brothers.

You were lying on the cold floor... No you're not poor infact you're far from it. You were sleeping on the bed but you suddenly felt that something's wrong and found out you were on the floor , there were voices around you saying 'is she dead'

'oh looks like the exchange program will have to wait' .

'I'm kidnapped...not that i didn't expected that' you thought.

You were still pretending to be asleep so you can find out more but then you heard footsteps approaching probably coming to check upon you whoever that was removed a piece of hair from your face the moment they touched you , you grabbed their hand pulled them down and pushed your little knife near their throat that you keep hidden in your locket. It's small but useful . You heard people gasps and looked down it was a very handsome man with Ruby eyes and raven hair. But you weren't the one to be phased by good looks .

"Where am I? You all better start speaking if you want this little friend of yours alive" you demanded without fearing......

Shocked , surprised, stunt!!

Human how!?

And you didn't got up till Diavolo explained everything!! When you got up you didn't even apologize..even after being told he's the Lucifer.

Poor Lucifer prided got hurt

"Human I'd have you apologize for the stunt"

"And i you, for kidnapping me"

"Apologize"

"I'd rather stuck needles in my eyes"

Diavolo have to stop you guys , you're like another incarnate of pride.

But no one has the audacity to stuck up to Lucifer so he kinda becomes a simp NGL.

But still his poor pride is still hurt.

Do you not enjoy living human? You must have a death wish 😃?

No like really stop arguing with Lucifer but like SIMP no:2.

Cause he was since he saw you pretending to be asleep!!

Look Mammon is easily distracted but you caught his attention now.

Congrats!!

Will try to talk to you but you genuinely don't give a shit 😃.

"Lucifer i don't wanna babysit a human!!"

"Yes i don't want to be baby sit by someone whose face scream 'help me I'm getting bullied '"

"Hey human you don't get to insult The Great Mamm-"

" i wish i could mold my consciousness to give a shit but i apologize i can't"

Mammon didn't even understand that because too much grammar and fancy language.

He'll stick with you thou.....cause he's a simp.

Didn't knew what was going on and didn't care .

Though was slightly concern for you when you talk back to Lucifer.

Was impressed when you roasted mammon.

He was like "LOLMRRRR" (I still don't know what that means)

Blushed really hard when you sent him a glare .

"You know you look like the main character of 'i invited my crush to hell now they're roasting all of my brothers and making them fall in love'"

"No i look like Wednesday from Wednesday " you said and went away.

He looked it up at first he was like what a normie but then he saw it and immediately found out the similarity.

Simp No: 3

You are his favourite now .

Crown you to be the leader of Anti-Lucifer League.

"i refuse"

"You're seriously turning me down?"

"Can you believe it"

But you'd be mostly found with him through.

He'll read listening to your calming taps of type writer.

One can say you go along the best with him

Lucifer don't like it though.

You'll not take part in his pranks cause apparently "if there's no blood there's no fun"

Satan found you a bit disturbing cause from books he learnt this behaviour isn't normal amoung humans but he also found you intriguing.

Congrats satan taking interest means you better run.

He saw a new fashion

He took interest

You're his now!!

"sweetie! You're so unique!!"

"Distance would be appreciated, and if dropping the bodies of your victims infront of their family rather than disposing them is unique then thanks"

Asmo exp. Has stop working *windos shut down music*

He still try to gain his composure back

"uh why the distance sweetie! Would you not rather see this beauty*winks winks*'

"I'm alergic to color , i go insane and scrape the flesh of my bones"

Ok Asmo accept his defeat and sulked away

Mc-1, Asmo-0

Thinks you're threat for what you did to Lucifer.

But gets that's just your chaotic personality.

Thinks your like belphie.

"Belphie?"

"DO I LOOK LIKE- "

Otherwise no thoughts head empty beel will just continue enjoying his meal

For you beel is the most decent.

(I love him)

"Please save me I'm a human just like you Lucifer has captured me!!"

"You smell *sniff* like a demon . Nice to meet you belphegor ."

"How !?"

"Humans are usually scared of me "

"Well you still gotta help me even if I'm a demon "

"Got two words"

"Bet they won't be helpful"

"Your problem"

"I was right "

But you still sometimes bring him blankets and read him your novels when Lucifer isn't looking.

He likes you . No like really.

Safe to say you are not going to face the same fate as the game's mc now .

He still hate humans

But so do you.

So y'all like besties now!!

[A/N]: First obey me headcannon . Hehe! I hope you all enjoyed it !!

If there's something you don't like let me know in DM!

Thank you for reading!!

#obey me shall we date #obey me short fic #obey me gn!reader #shall we date lucifer #the great mammon #levi om #obey me satan #om! asmodeus #beel x reader #belphieobeyme

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 3 years ago

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How Vikings would react to THEM timetraveling

A/N: based on this request

Masterlist | requests are open

In this imagine I’ll throw Ragnar, Lagertha, Athelstan (only for @demon-of-the-ancient-world), the Ragnarssons, Floki and Helga through time and make them deal with it

Ragnar

born to do this

so excited

wants to book a plane ticket and travel across the world for shits and giggles

immediately learns about everything and starts getting into illegal activities

after a week, he has a fake birth certificate and passport, as well as dubious amounts of money

takes you onto a trip

his new lawful name is Michelangelo (after the teen mutant ninja turtle, not the painter) Louderbrok

Lagertha

this is not what she’s used to

Lagertha thrives in familiar environments, so she kind of withdraws

show her a visually stunning movie, something that has planets or great shots of the Earth (Interstellar, Dune, Star Wars, etc.)

it makes her realize how many new things are out there

takes it much slower than Ragnar and keeps her name

enjoys her freedom, but definitely misses her home

she sees the benefits of the future, but to her, the simple life she had back then was easier

Athelstan

my poor Athelstan

from Lindisfarne, to Kattegat to everywhere else

and now the future????

not cool

consumes knowledge like a sponge

my recommendation? take him to an art museum

i think he would love to look at Van Gogh’s paintings

but there’s so much internal struggle in him

takes him years to get used to the future, but then he loves it (but for the love of God, let him live in a rural area)

Bjorn

like Ragnar, very excited

much less cooperative though

yes, Ragnar was sneaky, but this guy might get you into trouble

he’s loud, he flirts with every woman he sees, and he refuses to take off his sword

takes time to make him more civilized

he also loves the future, makes him feel more at peace

and he doesn’t have to marry every woman he’s with

mandatory vacation in Spain or Italy every summer

Ubbe

he misses home, so much

Ubbe is mostly fascinated with modern politics, how there’s less war, and how people of so many different backgrounds live together

he is fascinated by the diversity of the world, he didn’t even know there were people that looked so different

adjusts pretty well, and I’d guess that he’s the easiest to deal with

with him, you can just go to authorities and explain it how it is, and it would work

can absolutely settle down in the future

starts working as a social worker/teacher/sth. related to humans

and he’s so good at it. had he been born in the future + gotten the right education he would be changing lives on a larger scale, but he’s content with helping teens that remind him of Hvitserk get off the street

Hvitserk

oh god

chaotic, but in a funny way

please, please, please order food / go to restaurants and introduce him to all kinds of different cuisines

he loves new food sm

other than that, I think he adjusts quite well

i have a headcanon that both Hvitserk and Ivar can pick up languages quickly, so English isn’t the problem

FINALLY gets the therapy he deserves

again, I think you could get help from authorities with him, though it takes him much longer than Ubbe

tries to get together with you

becomes a chef, even if his first attempt at cooking is a disaster

Sigurd

a problem

not very cooperative

tries for your sake though

has a phase where he doesn’t come out of the guest room for hours on end, listening to music

i think he would do fine in the end, but it takes at least half a year before you let him out of the house

learns english and studies music, becomes an extremely successful musician

by far the happiest of all to be in the future, where he’s away from his family

also gets the therapy he deserves, though he still gets angry when Ivar is mentioned

Ivar

for your sake, I hope that this never happens to you

will attempt to murder you

such a chaos gremlin, accidentally commits arson in the first three days

will never become a normal part of society

manages to learn english super quickly though

sneaks out of your house and promtply starts his own gang and becomes a mafia leader (and consequentially, wattpad wetdream)

graciously lets you live off his success as repayment for your meagre housings

goes to physical therapy for his legs, but never gets rid of his limp + braces

that’s just a part of who he is.

Floki

same as ivar, but a little more feral

if you live in Europe, don’t take him to the city center, we all know how many churches there are in Europe

has a mental breakdown over christianity in the middle of the street

when he finds tumblr and people that worship the Norse Gods on it, he says he’s found his people

misses Helga on the daily

there’s a pretty big headcanon/assumption that Floki has bpd or schizophrenia, so he also gets the medication he should have gotten

historians actually swarm him bc he knows so much abt the Norse Gods/viking boats/etc.

never truly happy in the future, but he manages

Helga

my sweet cinnamon roll is so confused at first

doesn’t quite understand what’s going on when you find (and recognize) her, but she comes with you and tries her best

you immediately get a cold when she’s first there, and she makes you the best chicken soup you’ve ever had

also cooperates with the law, but it takes her a bit to learn english

when she finally gets the qualification to become a kindergardener/teacher, she’s so happy

i fully believe that this would be her passion

though she’ll always miss home, being a teacher/kindergardener makes her super happy

will stay besties with you for life

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years ago

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Kid!MC/Teen!MC Needs someone to go to Parent Teacher Interviews for Them and Guess Who’s Available?

Masterlist

The brothers being bad babysitters/dad figures is something I love very much, I bet you all could already tell that considering the Fic/Headcanon series I have going on. I would just like you all to know that Asmo’s section is based on a true story. Anyhoo~ onto the Headcanons!

Why? Why Him? (Lucifer)

Is MC really dumb, or are they just a kid? No one knows.

Obviously MC asked Lucifer, the only competent one in the house, the most professional, hard-working, controlled-

MC got their things together and gave Lucifer the run down on their teacher(s) before Lucifer got too absorbed in extolling his own virtues in an intense internal monologue.

News flash Lucifer, this isn’t a Shakespeare play, you can’t have a dramatic monologue or soliloquy about how great you think you are

At the actual meeting, if MC is in there, no, MC is not actually in there. Lucifer will speak to the teacher as if MC isn’t there. As someone whose not a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down kind of person, Lucifer expects the teacher to behave the same and not spare MC’s feelings.

Feelings do not deserve to be spared if MC is being a nuisance. No fake-kid/little sibling of his gets to be the class idiot!

If MC’s doing very well academically, he expects to be pointed at projects or tests they’ve done and the grade on it. It really makes him proud to see MC doing well.

Even if they’re not the best academically, if they’re not failing and they’re doing well in other aspects of school, he’s proud.

If MC really struggles in a school environment and just hates it there but they’re still keeping their head above water, they get a head pat of approval.

On the drive home, if MC came with him to the parent teacher interviews and everything went well, he just happens to turn onto the street that has a Baskin Robin’s or something of that caliber.

If they didn’t go, he picks something up on the way back.

No fun treats if MC is being a disruptive little heathen in class, no kid under Lucifer’s care is going to be the class Mammon. Not on his watch.

MC was busily stuffed their face with the treats that were gifted to them. Lucifer had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes at the kid’s blatant disregard for basic table manners when it came to sweets.

“Is everything the teacher said true?” Lucifer asked, MC looked up at him with a smile.

“Yep!”

“Good, good.” Lucifer held out his hand and patted them on the head. “You’re doing well. Keep it up.”

“Geez,” MC mumbled as they continued to stuff their face. “Can you get anymore affectionate?”

“Don’t be sarcastic, MC. It’s uncouth.” Lucifer said sternly. “Besides, I’ll have you know that many people enjoy my headpats. I’m quite affectionate.”

“Really now? Name one person.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He and MC stared each other down, one pair of eyes much more nervous than the other. Spoiler, MC was still calmly eating their treat as they maintained eye contact.

“…Cerberus.”

“If you’re reaching for Cerberus, you’ve already lost.”

…his pride was under attack. Right in front of his desert…

“You’re grounded.”

“Worth it.”

*Rides by on a Skateboard* School is for NERDS (Mammon)

Pff! Stupid human! He’s not goin’ to some lame parent teacher conference-

Wait! What’s with that face?! Ugh… fine. MC’s gone and forced his hand with those damn puppy dog eyes…

Mammon does not dress up for this event, he dresses like he would every day, maybe throw on some designer stuff to let all the parents and teachers know he’s hot shit.

If MC goes with him, he pulls up in his beloved car and takes up two parking spaces (pure evil.). Every parent present already hates him, but at least the other kids there are impressed with MC’s sweet ride. MC would have gained some street cred if Mammon hadn’t managed to trip up the stairs to the classroom in front of everyone.

He’ll act way to casual with the teacher, turning the parent chair backwards and sitting down so he can lean on the seat.

Mammon gets bored crazy quickly while the teacher lists and explains all the stuff the class is learning, so his eyes begin to wander to any and all displays in the classroom. Projects, annoying posters, class pet, anything is more interesting than this teacher’s explanation.

When MC finally becomes the main topic of the interview, he’s all ears. MC’s doing great in school academically? Ha! Nerd! Maybe giving MC a playful noogie and interrupting the whole interview wasn’t a good idea, but whatever.

If MC’s failing anything, or just isn’t that gifted when it comes to grades, it’s very much a “Aw man me too” from Mammon.

This teacher is speaking with the Great Mammon, the first demon in RAD’s history to fail three semesters in a row. If this teacher thinks bad grades will phase him, they’re dead wrong.

Grades don’t mean anythin’ about smarts anyway! I mean, look at him! He’s a fuckin’ genius but he can’t get through a history test without sobbing even though he LIVED THROUGH MOST OF IT.

MC gets treats no matter what’s up in class. Though, if MC didn’t go with him, he’s likely to forget and just order something for the two of them when he gets back home.

“Goddamn teachers and their rambling!” Mammon whined, grabbing a slice of pizza from the open box on his coffee table. “You owe me, MC! Ya really do!”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” MC said, they leaned over and rolled a pizza slice into a pizza-scroll then proceeded to eat it like a veggie roll. “How do you think I feel, listening to them every day? You know how long it takes to get to the actual class material?”

“Five years?”

“Ugh! Five years if I’m lucky! I swear, I know more about my teacher’s grievances with like… five of my classmates than I do about trigonometry, and guess which one’s on the test next week?”

Mammon winced in sympathy, then remembered he was supposed to be whining and went back to it. “School’s shit and a waste of money, ya should drop out as soon as you can and help me run my new business.”

“You mean your pyramid scheme?”

“It’s not a pyramid scheme, MC! It’s legit! It’s a multi-tiered marketing-”

“It’s a pyramid scheme.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SOCIAL INTERACTION (Leviathan)

Everyone else must have been sick or something for MC to have asked Levi. He’d flat out refuse to go otherwise.

So, Levi couldn’t exactly go to the interview in his usual “I haven’t left my room or changed clothes in eight weeks” look. With the help of MC, he was able to find his military uniform at the back of his closet.

Asmo nearly fainted when he saw Levi in the uniform, not because “oooo, a man in uniform~”, it was because the outfit was so crumpled and wrinkled that it made it physically painful to look at. No time to iron and wash, the conference was in an hour!

Levi (and MC if they went with) rolled up to the school in a less than impressive ride, but one look at the uniform and all the other people present went “yep, time to be respectful (tm)”

For the first time in his life Levi was more intimidating than Lucifer! And he wasn’t even trying!

When the teacher starts explaining the course material, Levi spaces off in horror as he realizes he remembers literally nothing from school (AND HE’S STILL IN SCHOOL!) all that’s running through his head is “A squared + B squared = C squared” and “the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell”.

The actual interview was the least interesting part of the trip, the real stuff happened when Levi passed by some art on display in the hallway and something caught his eye-

Those colours… that hair… that adorable smile..!

IT WAS HER! LEVI’S PRECIOUS RURI-CHAN IN ALL HER GLORY!

Levi immediately started fawning over the art class fanart and by sheer coincidence, one of the kids walking through the hallway happened to notice.

The kid asked MC if their… parent and or guardian liked anime. MC responded with “obviously.” Levi then asked the kid if they drew his adorable Ruri-chan. The kid said no, and that they drew the My Hero Academia fanart a few rows down.

Levi was absolutely floored that there were two anime fans in one class, then his entire world shattered when MC explained there was more anime art inside the art room and other classrooms.

H-hang on… did that mean that… a lot of people here… liked anime..?

Levi needed a while to process. No snacks on the way home…

Levi and MC were sat in the back of their Uber, Levi, the Avatar of Envy himself, was having his entire sense of reality warped. S-so much anime fanart… in a school of all places..! What did this mean for the future of anime?!

“Levi. Stop.” MC sighed. “If this were an anime, the camera angle would be doing that thing where it’s right on the bridge of your nose and dramatic music plays in the background.”

“S-so many kids in your class like a-anime huh..?” Levi stuttered, weakly trying to smile. “Must be nice..?”

“Oh, that’s just my class. The other classes and grades have their fans too.”

“Oh… really?”

“Levi,” MC stopped looking out the window and looked at the otaku that was having a full scale silent mental breakdown. “Anime isn’t even a niche interest anymore. It’s a pretty casual thing to watch now. At least a third of my class watches- Levi?”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHH! ANIME! A THIRD OF THE CLASS?! ANIME… HIS PRECIOUS ANIME… WAS BECOMING A NORMIE INTEREST! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

“Levi?” MC waved their hand in front of their spaced out demon’s face. “Leviiiii? Okay he’s dead.”

The Know it All (Satan)

Ah, a smart choice, MC. Satan would be glad to help further their education. He’ll do everything in his power to make sure that the human’s brain is fed all that sweet sweet knowledge.

Satan can’t dress himself normally, MC had to coax him into a suit jacket, but he still only wore one sleeve.

MC was coming along to the interviews whether they wanted to or not, it’s important to hear what they need to improve on from the teacher themselves after all.

The two arrived pretty early, so Satan asked MC for a tour of the school. It was pretty tame until they reached the library. Satan was horrified at the state of some of the books…

Their spines lined with duct tape… pages missing and torn… someone apparently used a taco as a book mark…

The first thing Satan does when it’s time for his interview is demand the teacher take better care of the library, even though they’re not the librarian. MC tries to explain this, but Satan is too distraught to listen to reason.

He enjoyed hearing about the course material, but he made it known if MC thinks the assignments are too easy that they need to be given more challenging work. THEIR BRAIN NEEDS TO BE STIMULATED DAMN IT.

It was up to MC to either agree with Satan and nod to the teacher, or make frantic eye contact with them to try and communicate “NO DON’T PLEASE”.

Similar to (ugh) Lucifer, as long as MC is doing their best, he’s happy for them.

…but if they are in any way in the running for valedictorian he is HELPING THEM WIN.

He decided to stop at a cafe or bookstore to let MC pick out a “congrats on surviving your pitiful school” present after the interviews.

MC gleefully perused the shelves of the bookstore, there were so many books too look at…

“I’ll buy you as many books as you’d like, MC, just,” Satan shuddered slightly. “Promise me you won’t treat them like those poor library books…”

MC put their hand over their heart. “I swear on the duct taped book spines that I will never treat a book like that.”

��Good… good…” Satan breathed a sigh of relief and went back to looking at his book about cats.

“Are you… reading a Warrior Cats book..?” MC asked tentatively.

“Yes, why?”

“Satan, put that back.”

“I Will Seduce the Teacher For the Sake of Your Grades, Don’t Worry.” (Asmodeus)

Oh MC dear! He’d be delighted to go! Just let him get ready~

Asmo may not be the best choice, but he was at least going to be the best dressed person at that conference. (And MC just had to come too so all the other parents could be jealous of how well coordinated their outfits are)

He teased MC a little by saying he was going to flirt with their teacher to make sure they passed the class, but he was just kidding! …but he made sure to ask if their teacher was cute, he needed to know!

While waiting for his turn, Asmo flirts with some of the single parents, if he doesn’t see a wedding ring, they’re fair game.

Once his time slot arrived, MC realized that Asmo is one of those “my child has done and will do nothing wrong ever” types. This may have ended up working in MC’s favour if they were a class nuisance.

If MC is doing very well in sports, clubs, grades, anything, Asmo is fawning over them and gushing to the teacher about how great, smart and adorable they are.

Asmo surprisingly does not exactly flirt with the teacher, he was just teasing MC after all. But um… if MC’s teacher just happens to be cute and young, he may turn up the charm, just a little. Enough to make the teacher giggle and make MC cover their face in embarrassment.

After the interviews Asmo will probably schedule a nice day out for the two of them, shopping, a movie, mani pedis, something fun!

The real weird stuff happens in the months after the interviews… if Asmo did lightly flirt with the teacher, MC gets quite a few questions about their guardian. Questions that ask if Asmo is single in not as many words…

Oh lord, MC’s teacher developed a crush on Asmo.

Nail painting night was supposed to be a fun occasion, but MC was hopping mad and embarrassed. Asmo didn’t seem to notice as he continued to paint the little human’s nails.

“And then I told Phenex to get lost. The nerve of that little monster, right MC?” When MC didn’t reply, Asmo looked up and tilted his head. “MC?”

MC’s angry face would have been much more threatening if they weren’t just so adorable, but it was getting the message across.

“MC..?”

“Asmo.” MC’s glare deepened. “My teacher wants to know if you’re single.”

Asmo blinked a few times, before he hit his tongue to keep from laughing. “Really now~. I knew they’d be madly in love with me-”

“WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIIIIIIIIIIIS?!”

Oh My Demon King is That a BAKE SALE?! (Beel)

Of course Beel said yes! He’d gladly go to MC’s parent teacher interview!

He even put on a nice outfit :D he ended up looking a bit like a secret serviceman guarding MC, the tiny president.

Beel stopped for McDonald’s on the way there, all the other kids were so jealous of MC when they stepped out of the car eating fries.

But a little something something caught Beel’s eye when he and MC walked into the school… was that a… bake sale?

MC quickly explained that the bake sale was fundraiser for their class trip that year and the snacks weren’t complimentary. He had to pay.

And pay Beel did. He cleared out the entire table. MC’s grade’s overnight trip was going to be decadent as hell. That was no longer a crowd funded thing, that trip was privately funded by a tall buff ginger secret service member and this tiny in comparison child.

Kids are incredibly blunt, just like Beel, so when a random kindergarten kid wandered over, looked up at Beel, and very knowingly said “you’re very tall”. Beel was like “yeah”. The kid then said “what’s it like being that tall?”

Beel’s response to this kid’s question was to pick them up and hold them for a few seconds before placing them back down. For just a few moments this kid knew what it like to be over 6’4. Of course, more kids swarmed in and asked to be picked up.

Sure it was cute, but Beel now has an army of kids ranging from kindergarteners to third graders.

Finally, the conference actually began. Beel snacked the entire time and dutifully listened to everything the teacher had to say.

After the interviews are over, he checks with MC to make sure everything the teacher said was true and that they weren’t lying. If all was well, the two made their exit.

They stopped at Wendy’s on the way home.

“I’m so full…” MC groaned, Beel held up a massive cookie.

“So I can eat this?”

“No. Gimme that.” MC took a very defeated bite out of it. “My stomach says no but my mouth says yes…”

“I don’t want you to get a stomachache, MC,” Beel said worriedly. “No more snacks.”

“It’s a little late for that. It’s past nine and I’m still eating, there’s no way I’m getting to sleep at a reasonable hour.”

“Oh…” Beel mumbled. “I may have not completely thought this through.”

“*Snore* Huh? Wha? MC’s Grades? Uh… Fuck…” (Belphie)

MC must be failing a class or something because why on earth would they pick Belphie otherwise.

They ask him to go while he’s delirious from just waking up from a nap, he sort of half nods and mumbles some gibberish before going back to sleep.

MC had to basically carry his ass to the school. Belphie drooled all over them in the waiting room, and when it was their time to go into the interview, Belphie had to be manually put into the chair and slapped awake.

He barely listens, he just sits and nods along with whatever the teacher is saying. The teacher could say MC brought an alligator to school and he’d just go “uh huh…” “mmmph… yep…” “really now?” then yawn.

The only thing that could possibly get Belphie to be interested is if MC is studying space. If they are, than boy howdy is Belphie suddenly interested in their education.

Other than that? *snore*

If MC is in fact failing or doing poorly, MC’s teacher asks to see another one of MC’s guardians at a later date. Their plan failed miserably.

MC drags Belphie out of the school and yells at him for not helping them. Belphie, still sleep delirious, tries to press the snooze button. MC does not have a snooze button.

“Belphie!” MC shouted, shaking the Avatar of Sloth awake. The House of Lamentation’s resident bastard was somehow sleeping standing up outside. “HOW COULD YOU?!”

“Eh?” Belphie half-snorted and looked around confused. “What’d I do? Where are we?”

“At my school! You said that you’d go to my parent teacher interviews!”

“…MC I don’t think I’d pass well for you.”

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GO AS MY GUARDIAN!”

“Sheesh,” Belphie murmured while he rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes. “You humans are so noisy.”

MC looked up at their dearest demon friend, and gave him their best glare. “I’m going to take all your fancy temperature changing pillows and switch them with normal pillows you traitorous bastard.”

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ellewriteswrongs · 3 years ago

Text

picking favorites (a @tsbandau drabble)

if y’all aren’t emotionally invested in @underdog-arts ‘s band au, idk what y’all are even doing /j

anyway, here’s a wholesome family drabble insp. by the band au and my (not-so) subtle obsession with remus and janus. also subbing to their patreon is the best $5 i’ve probably ever spent, no joke

“Honey, you can still pick up Ry, right?” Janus called down the hallway, carrying a basket of laundry on each hip before depositing them in the hallway to put away later. Remus was seated in their shared office catching up on emails as Janus began packing up leftover pasta into containers to take to their show scheduled that night.

“I told you I got ‘em,” he agreed, banging the last clumps of his protein shake into his mouth with the heel of his hand. “I’m gonna’ jog to V’s and grab the van.”

Janus nodded to themself out of instinct before faltering, their brow furrowing.

“Wait—Re, that’s like three miles,” they challenged, dumping the dirtied dishes into the sink. “Just take the fucking car.”

Remus’ snort laugh was audible from down the hallway.

“They asked for the van!” Remus cackled. “And I, for one, do not disappoint. Apparently making my kid’s friends think they’re cool is worth a three-mile jog.”

Janus rolled their eyes, albeit fondly. This was, unfortunately, not news.

Riley was having an…interesting phase. It wouldn’t be abnormal for kids their age if it weren’t for the fact that their parents were ridiculously competitive, and all of their parents’ friends were eager to get in on it.

As soon as Remus attended career day in Riley’s first grade classroom, resulting in the entire class of six-year-olds marveling at the fact that their friend’s dad was a “rock star.”

Janus loved that conversation over dinner that night.

They weren’t jealous. No, in fact, it was probably overdue for Riley to have a bit of a “Daddy’s kid” phase, considering how joined at the hip they were with Janus for multiple years now. But they wanted to win.

Riley could make their own decisions about picking a favorite parent. As long as that decision was Janus.

“You’ve gone so-oft,” they sing-songed, smirking as Remus appeared in the kitchen behind them, wrapping one hand around their hip and pressing a kiss to their temple. “Ry’s got you wrapped around their finger.”

Remus have a flash of his crooked grin.

“Yeah, well…at least I know where they get that from.”

Janus rolled their eyes, trying to hide their reddening face.

“Sap,” they grumbled fondly. “Hurry up and get on with your run before you’re late to pickup. And tell V I said hey.”

Remus gave an exasperated chuckle and affirmation, but pocketed his keys and wallet nonetheless.

The jog to Virgil’s apartment wasn’t a particularly strenuous three miles, being downtown and all, and Remus was far from out of shape. Still, three miles was three miles—especially in the late afternoon sun. Needless to say, Virgil wasn’t thrilled to have a giant sweaty man on his doorstep, but he handed over the keys nonetheless.

The van was old, still clinging to its axels from when Remus himself purchased it from an old neighbor and declared it the band’s “tour bus.” It was nice enough at the time, especially for the price he paid, but it certainly wasn’t still around for anything more than sentimental value.

Mainly just Remus refusing to get rid of it.

That, and the fact that, for whatever reason, Riley thought it was the coolest thing ever.

The drive wasn’t long, only the sitting in traffic of other parents in minivans trying to get into the school parking lot. He…wasn’t a fan of that part of being a parent, that’s for sure. He could do without any other parents, thank you very much, but at least it was fun to see how obvious all of them were in their distaste of both him and Janus, compared to how much their kid absolutely adored them.

A fact that was only proven when Remus eventually made it to the parking lot and exited his van, only to be met with ear-splitting squeal of “daddy!” and an armful of six-year-old.

He can’t deny how, even after all these years, the title still makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Like…he is a dad. That’s his kid! How fucking rad is that!

He happens to spot a few other parents, along with some of Riley’s friends that he recognizes, and he offers a quick wave with the hand that isn’t mussing up his kid’s hair.

“You brought the van,” Riley points out with a toothy grin that Remus can’t help mirroring. He can’t help the knot in his throat when he spots the gap in their teeth from their first ever lost tooth—which only meant they were getting much too old and Remus would really appreciate it if they would slow the fuck down.

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” Riley nods, bouncing on Remus’ hip just a bit out of excitement. “I gotta’ warn you though, JJ’s getting pretty jealous.”

Riley laughs before sticking out their tongue and making a fart noise in Remus’s face.

Remus is, for the thousandth time, bewildered at how Riley couldn’t possibly be more like Janus if they tried. And mostly smitten. He has the coolest kid on Earth, after all.

“They can suck my butt!” Riley squeals and Jesus Christ, Remus is going to have a heart attack right there in the parking lot. He’s gonna’ have to grill Jan again to make sure those two aren’t secretly biologically related.

“Hey, your words not mine, squirt,” he smirks, opening the van door and strapping them into the car seat. “And your early bedtime if you let JJ hear any of that.”

He finishes with a pinch on their nose before closing the van door and getting back in the driver’s seat.

Riley, as soon as the radio turn on, starts protesting very aggressively to listen to “your songs, daddy! Play your songs!”

Thankfully, he has a CD burned with some of their…cleaner songs for that exact purpose.

Riley, for lack of a better word, was ‘singing’ along at a volume that Remus would’ve otherwise found hilarious and impressive if it wasn’t right in his ear. Still, there was a certain fondness that came with watching his kid’s excitement over his work—something that, as usual, was paired with thrashing within the confines of a car seat and headbanging their little heart out.

Along the drive Remus made every attempt to stop the barrage of the screamo singer in the making, but all were ultimately unsuccessful. At least…until he pointed out one particular building out of a strip mall assortment.

“Hey, you see that store right there? The one with the red sign?” He spoke up, catching Riley’s eager attention in an instant. They placed both hands on the van window to look out.

“What is it?” They asked, squinting to try and read what was on the sign.

“You know the snake on my leg?” Riley nodded, quieting down. “That’s where JJ took me to get it.”

They paused, seemingly putting some pieces together in their head.

“How come you only have one?” They asked, still kicking their legs against their seat. “JJ has lots, how come you don’t have lots too?”

Remus chuckled, continuing along the road as the light turned green.

“‘Cause I don’t need another one. They’re very expensive, you know.”

“Is it ‘cause you’re a wimp?”

Remus choked on his own spit.

“N-no,” he choked out, laughing. “No I’m not, I just think it looks better this way.”

He didn’t bother looking into the backseat to see what Riley thought of that answer, but if the return to karaoke that followed was any indication, they were not impressed. Still, he’d probably take the teasing over the screaming, but kids are kids.

Even as they pulled into their driveway, Remus had to strategically dodge Riley’s flailing limbs in order to un-fasten the seatbelts on their car seat and actually get them in the house. Apparently the music was not as vital to the ‘sing-along’ as he’d hoped it was when he turned the car off.

“Alright, alright, calm those legs down before you knock my teeth out, will ya’?” Remus teased, placing Riley on his shoulders where they instantly took fistfuls of his hair to hold on. Riley toned down the velocity, but otherwise did not stop. “Careful, squirt, if you wanna’ kick so bad, I’m signing you up to play soccer.”

Riley stopped almost instantaneously, gripping Remus’ hair even tighter as they headed back inside the house, Riley’s tiny backpack slung around Remus’ forearm.

“Nooo,” they wailed, half punctuated by laughter that echoed through the house.

“What are we complaining about?” Janus spoke, leaning against the doorway across the room with a fond smile.

“He said if I kick him in the teeth I have to play soccer,” Riley whined, attempting to climb down from Remus’ shoulders on their own. Janus snorted a laugh before swiftly crossing the room to collect their child and place them on their hip.

“Wow, your daddy’s so mean,” Janus agreed, raising a challenging eyebrow as they stood in front of their husband. Remus pouted before bending down to steal a kiss.

“Gross,” Riley giggled, pressing a hand on each of their parents’ faces to separate them.

“Gross?” Janus smirked. “Well in that case, maybe your dad was being a bit unfair.”

Riley turned to Remus to stick out their tongue at him.

“I mean, soccer? That’s just ridiculous,” Janus continued, a mischievous glint in their eyes. “We’ll obviously have to sign you up for football instead. A punt like that has got to be put to good use.”

Riley immediately went back to their dramatized complaining, this time reaching desperately for Remus to get him to take them back from Janus—to which Remus just held up his hands in mock innocence.

“No can do, kid,” he smirked. “The punishment has to fit the crime, after all.”

Riley continued their attempts to wiggle out of Janus’ unyielding grip.

“Never!” They declared, trying a different approach of reaching over Janus’ shoulder to escape from behind. “I won’t! I won’t do it, I promise!”

Remus and Janus both knew they wouldn’t actively try to hurt either of them, but sometimes it was just more fun to assert rules when it came with shrieking laughter and climbing their parents like a jungle gym.

“Well, now you know where we stand,” Remus spoke in false authority, reaching for one of Riley’s tiny shoes and holding it up to address it as if it were in control of their legs. “I better not see you around these parts again, ya’ hear?” He added in an over-the-top western accent, gesturing to his face.

Riley squealed with laughter as he held out his hand for a handshake and they shook it with their accused foot.

“Alright, alright, you two,” Janus intervened with fond exasperation. “Snacks are on the counter, take it or leave it.”

Riley whipped their head around to peer into the kitchen, cheering when they spotted two plates on the kitchen counter, each with a toaster waffle piled high with blueberries.

“Second…breakfast!” They cheered, drumroll-ing on their leg before whooping and slinking out of Janus’ grip and climbing up onto the kitchen barstools. Remus, giving a fond eye-roll at the enthusiasm, turned to drape his arms over Janus’ shoulders from behind, perching his chin on top of their head.

“They get it from you, you know,” he mumbled, smirking at the scoff it earned him.

“Shut up,” Janus grumbled, the smile evident in their voice. “That is all you.”

“Babe, sports are a threat in this house,” he teased. “You’re telling me that came from me?”

“Yeah, I’ll take that one,” they chided, turning around to face their husband. “As long as you’re aware that the energy, the volume—honey, that’s all you.”

Remus quirked his brow with a proud smirk.

“Or maybe it’s the fact that they sleep for fourteen hours and we haven’t even had eight in the last six years,” he challenged knowingly. “You know, I happen to remember that back in the day…that bed was hardly even for sleeping.”

Janus snorted, their face reddening slightly.

“Is it bad to think of those as the ‘good old days’ already?”

Remus swept a piece of their hair out of their face.

“Hell no, dude. We lived like kings back then,” he chuckled. “How ‘bout this—I’ll get Ro to take ‘em to the park or something this weekend and I’ll dick you down just like old times, ‘kay?”

Janus sputtered out a cackle, smacking Remus on the chest before covering his mouth with their hand.

“Fucking christ, they’re like two yards away,” they hissed, still laughing. “I am not going to be the one fielding questions about what getting dicked down means, oh my god.”

“You say that like they listen to anything when there’s food in front of them,” Remus countered, nodding in the direction of their kid as Janus rolled their eyes with a chuckle.

“Now that, is from you,” they grinned, jabbing him in the side with their elbow.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re serving up delicacies like toaster waffles,” Remus said, raising his hands in mock defense.

Janus gave him a look before crossing their arms.

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky I know you can’t go two hours without food. Go on, there’s one for you, even if it’s probably cold by now,” they teased as Remus excitedly kissed their forehead before practically running to the kitchen. He hopped up to sit on the counter, folding each toaster waffle like a blueberry-filled taco before funneling them into his mouth.

Janus followed close behind—at a normal pace, thank you very much—and took the actual seat next to their kid, sipping at the cup of tea they had left on the counter before the two had returned home as they listened to Riley regaling their day at school.

———

Realistically, Remus probably should’ve seen it coming. He was a couple days past his previous record of days as Riley’s “favorite” and he knew he likely didn’t have much longer before Janus dethroned him again, but he certainly hadn’t expected the scene he walked in on that night.

He had heard hushed laughter coming from one of their house’s bathrooms that evening, assuming at first that Janus was just handling Riley’s bath or something like that, but as he cleaned up the mess from their dinner and finished washing the rest of their dishes, he was surprised to find they were still in there. So obviously he had to investigate.

He knocked on the door, rolling his eyes fondly as shushing and giggles came from within.

“Everything good in there?” He teased, leaning against the door. “I gotta’ say, I’m a little hurt I didn’t get invited to whatever club this is that hangs out in the bathroom.”

More giggles followed by the oh-so familiar sound of Janus’ shushing.

“I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself what all the fuss is about,” he sing-songed, slowly creaking open the door before letting out a snort laugh at the scene before him.

Janus was seated on the edge of the bathtub, wash cloth in hand, as Riley sat on the sink counter, covered on all limbs with temporary tattoos. At least the pieces of tape that Janus had cut into circles and colored black to look like ear gauges were admittedly cute.

“Oh, I see how it is,” he smirked from against the doorframe.

“JJ said you’re a wimp,” Riley proudly announced. “I was right.”

Janus stuck their tongue out and made a spitting noise and…yeah, that was their kid alright. Not that Remus would have it any other way.

#anyway.......i would die for them #my writing #tsbandau #sanders sides #ts remus #ts janus

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todourouki · 5 years ago

Text

Misery Business | K. Bakugou

a one shot

✰ SUMMARY the one where you didn’t mean to take the hothead away from his girlfriend, but you did anyway. It was nothing personal, you just knew that Bakugou Katsuki deserved way better than what he was settling for.

PAIRING Taken/Pro-Hero!Bakugou & Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT 4.6K

WARNINGS explicit language, mentions of cheating, cheating lol, suggestive language, angst, and some fluff at the end bc I cannot end my fics in a bad way I am weak sorry!

You were not a home wrecker.

At least, you wouldn’t say that to your own face.

You knew that the crush you had on Bakugou was wrong. You know that no matter how it is that you put it, or however strong your feelings are, or even however long you’ve even had feelings— liking a guy in a relationship was a huge no-no.

You weren’t the kind of girl to go around liking a girl’s boyfriend, though. It’s not like your feelings magically appeared out of thin air and now you’re stuck falling inlove with a guy that finds solitude in someone else— no, you aren’t like that.

Your feelings for Bakugou are much more complex, to say the least.

It all started in high school, when just the mere thought of the boy brought butterflies to your stomach with how strong and courageous he was. From his attractive face, to his blunt and explosive personality, you always found yourself admiring him when given the chance.

All of that went to shit when he decided to finally give one of the girls that were always fawning over him a chance during the beginning of your third year attending Yuuei Academy.

It was like you had gotten punched in the face, and now it feels like you’re just purposely getting stabbing in the heart every time you did as much as look at them.

That definitely explains why you’re sulking at your table during a school dance with a scowl on your face so you don’t have to see the happy couple waltz around the cafeteria floor.

All the top Pro-Heroes were assigned to attend the dance as academy alumni in order to ensure the safety of the students (as well as make sure students even decided to show up). You, being one of the top five heroes, were ordered to show up with no complaints.

The song currently playing finally changed from a low-tempo song to a much higher one, and with that, you decided to make that your imaginary queue to take a walk around the school’s building before returning to the large decorated area.

Your heel-clad feet dragged you all the way across the gymnasium, sending kids smiles if they were in your way and simply telling them that you were “getting some fresh air before the real fun starts.”

The doors slammed shut, and the solitude of the hallways engulfed in dark hues reflected against your strained eyes in a way that made you have to physically restrain your hand from harshly rubbing at it in order to make sure your make up stood intact.

The halls reminded you of a younger you (and by younger, you mean two years. you’re only 20 and already have the mind of some old hag) that used to run through these halls with a mini little green skirt and an imagination you wish you could still understand.

They also reminded you of the blond boy inside. Especially the room you stood in front of right now.

Almost as if it was second nature, your body made its way to Class 1-A: the place where it all began, the place where you met your closest friends, and the place where you fell inlove.

Opening the door, the lights turned on to reveal a classroom almost identical to the one you walked into every day four years ago. The desks were positioned the same, the posters remained in the same spot, and even the words on the chalkboard seemed oddly familiar.

The room reeked of new paint and textbook papers, and the only thing you really wanted to smell was the designer perfume clinging helplessly to your body so the odors of a high school class don’t even think twice about sticking to you.

Your body walked towards your old desk, Seat 12, the dress you wore clinging to your body as you pulled the chair out and nostalgically sat down. You were a first year all over again, and the thought made you laugh.

You looked embarrassing your first year— as embarrassing as someone who looks like you now can get. From the hideously overheated hair, to the emo phase you still seemed to sort of be stuck in, the world seemed too easy no matter what bullshit was going on the minute you sat down at that desk.

That explained how you felt now— no matter how much your heart yearned to be in the hands of Bakugou, the minute the cold sturdiness of the chair touched your warm body, all of that disappeared. For once, nothing in the world mattered. More precisely, Bakugou didn’t matter.

“Tch, I knew you’d be in here.” Annnddd there goes that.

Your eyes widened, now staring at a smirking blond wearing a black and white tux instead of the chalkboard you once zoned out on.

His arms were crossed against his muscular chest, and the muscles outlined the button up shirt in a way that should just be downright illegal. His face was gleaming with mischief, slowly walking his way over to the empty desk directly next to yours, taking a seat, and positioning his body in a lazy manner with his legs propped up against the table. Just like before.

“You know, this brings back a lot of shitty memories.” He grunted, stretching his arms behind his head and lolling his head to face you.

You nodded in response, glancing your head up to look at the lights in a way to move the gears in your brain to say something. Literally the same thing you used to do during Midnight’s long, tedious classes.

“Yea, a bunch of ones I’d much rather forget.” You said, looking over at him and watching as his eyes stared directly at the window you always found him staring out of when he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone in class.

“Always hearing your annoying ass mumble and suck your teeth used to really piss me off.” His words were masked with seriousness, trying to hide the playful smirk on his lips you identified much too quickly. With that, a scoff left your lips and you crossed your arms.

“Nobody said anything about the pencil you insisted on tapping for hours straight.” Your jab back made him chuckle, looking back at you with vermillion eyes that made you lose all sense of feelings.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you always forgot what it was like to look at anything before you looked into his eyes. That’s how scary it was— how intimidating it was to be under his presence. His eyes captured you, holding you hostage and probably never letting you go.

“At least we didn’t sit next to each other during our third year,” he began, placing a hand loosely around his tie as he continued to look at you in your eyes, “I don’t think I would have ever focused with the humming you did to the same damn song every day.”

“Yeah, instead of me though, you ended up sitting with your future wife.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID.

It was like word vomit, the snarky tone slipping through your lips as if it was trying its hardest to come off in a jokingly manner, only ending up appearing as sarcastic as possible. It was like the words fell from your tongue quicker than you could punch your own esophagus.

Bakugou stood quiet for a moment, staring at you and knitting his eyebrows together as if deep in thought. Your eyes ended up leading you back to the words Relief Fund written messily against the green chalkboard to save your embarrassment.

You didn’t see the frown itching across Bakugou’s lips.

“We aren’t married, ya know. I don’t know why people decided to start that rumor.” He said, a sigh passing by his lips to quiet his tone as if he was scared his girlfriend was around to hear it.

“Might as well marry her. You’re not really the kind of guy that dates just to date.” Your words struck hesitantly in the room in a timid yet informative voice, and Bakugou watched the board as well so that you were both avoiding each other’s gaze.

“Yeah well I’m not sure, marriage is a big deal.” Bakugou was muttering, and the tone of his voice made you crane your neck over to where he was seated as you stood quiet.

What were you, someone who was basically inlove with him, supposed to say that?

You both stood in silence for a few seconds, the words in your throat itching to escape as the remnants of memories you both had both in class and just together in general filled your vision.

“I always hated this seat because I knew it meant that I would always be the person you would argue with.” You began, closing your eyes and releasing a strained scoff from your glossed lips.

You didn’t know what you were doing, or what you were talking about, but as the moon danced across the pale boy’s face and the music in the cafeteria continued to gently ring through the halls, the only thing you were thinking about doing was speaking more than you ever have.

“Morning after morning, I grew used to your loud voice and extremely hostile—” “HAH? I was NOT—”

You sent him a glare, immediately cutting him off and proceeding your weird speech that just couldn’t let anything go.

“Anyways, morning after morning, I ended up looking forward to the words you decided to call me and yell at me about for the day. It’s like, if it didn’t happen,” your arms moved in an animated way, catching Katsuki’s full attention as he looked on to your rant, “I felt like my day wasn’t really an actual day, ya know?

The one thing you loved appreciated most about Bakugou was his ability to listen. And when you say listen, you mean just listen. His ears were perked up in your direction, shoes turned towards you and eyes watching your movements like a hawk.

“And then—” you gulped, pausing for a second in order to think your words though. It was always now or never to you, the drama giving you a sense of hope against a man like that.

It’s either I bring it up now, or I never get to speak my peace, and I refuse to be one of those people showing up to the wedding yelling ‘I oppose.’

“And then it was here that I realized I was the biggest idiot alive by feeling the way I felt about this one person.” You said, eyes glaring at the wall in front of you blankly as you cowered behind the whisps of your lashes.

Bakugou said nothing, but from the corner of you eye, you could see him staring at the side of your face with an expression you had never really see on him.

“I spent years pining after some dumbass that didn’t even see the genuine interest I had in him.” Your words were like alcohol, and Bakugou was too busy drinking them all in to fully acknowledge what you were talking about.

“I watched him give in to this one girl though,” a lightbulb when off in the boy’s head and for once, he felt like the idiot in the room, “a girl that doesn’t even care for him.”

“Y/N..” Bakugou growled, almost as if he was threatening you and warning you to tread on light waters.

If there was one thing he ever respected about you though, it was that you were never scared of him.

Your eyes snapped towards him, a scowl on your face as you began to feel anger bubbling up in your stomach from the way he tried to shut you up. You were finally speaking your peace and he’s too much of a coward to let you finish?

“You know, I thought the first red flag of her trying to change his attitude was enough. I thought that maybe, just maybe, after her telling him that being number one hero wasn’t really tangible, he’d have some common fucking sense and see what everyone else sees.” Your words were like venom, your eyes not leaving his as you huffed in your seat.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Bakugou’s voice was low and angry, laced with anger as he stared at you just as intensely as you stared at him. Your expression never faltered, and instead, you turned your entire body around in the chair to fully face him with arms across your chest.

“I know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about,” you taunted, your anger only rising in value, “and so the fuck do you, Bakugou.”

“You know she doesn’t give a fuck about you and you know very fucking well she’s only with you because you’re Bakugou Katsuki!”

His name slipping off your tongue brought shivers to his spine as he sat up in his seat and glared at you with the tip of his ears painting themselves a light red hue.

He was angry— not necessarily at you, but at the fact that he was getting called out for something like this. He was getting called out for finally being with a girl and was getting shit for it from someone he saw as a best friend.

“You don’t know shit— you don’t even fucking know her.” His voice began to get louder, the bass in his voice causing your heart to vibrate as you shocked both you and him by slamming a hand against the desk in frustration.

“For God’s sake, Katsuki open your fucking eyes!” You only used his first name when your emotions were high, and that made the man’s hands shake in anger as he watched your outburst.

“She forgot your anniversary! She doesn’t make you your favorite food— fuck she doesn’t even kiss you unless there’s a shitty camera around!” You stood up, stomping your feet and watching as he stood up quickly after you and scowled over at your angry face.

“She doesn’t care enough to remember shit that you don’t like which is why you always end up at stupid shit like this and she doesn’t even care to meet your friends!” Your voice was now loud, the music of the cafeteria being long forgotten as you huffed over at him and slammed a finger into his chest at every syllable you spoke.

“You want to know what I think about her, Bakugou? Bestfriend to bestfriend?” The words bestfriend seethed through your lips like venom as your finger dug itself into the middle of his pecks. He said nothing, waiting for you to continue as his hands balled into fists along his sides.

“I think that you’re such a fucking pussy, you can’t fathom being with someone who doesn’t worship the ground you walk on the way she does.” You growled, narrowing your eyes at his angry expression as you took a step closer to him threateningly.

“I think you hate the fact that I’m right— the fact that she blatantly uses you and doesn’t give a fuck about you, and you hate the fact that I know you so well enough to know that—”

Before the last few letters of the words could slip through your lips, a warm hand slammed against your fingers and snatched it into his grasp as he began to huff in anger. The caramel smell only increased, and you could sense his quirk begin to flare the abnormal heat in his hands up every second.

“You don’t know shit,” he growled, his voice raising as he began to yell at you in your face, “you don’t know shit about me!”

“Are you shitting me?!” You exclaimed, grabbing at the hand that grasped yours with a grip so tight Bakugou had to glance at it quickly before reverting his eyes back to yours.

“I’ve known every little fucking thing about you since we were fifteen!” You yelled, tears threatening to spill down your eyes as the anger inside you finally erupted in a way you couldn’t control.

“Nobody asked you to be so invested in my fucking life anyway!” He retaliated, his voice booming through the room as you stared at him incredulously.

“I was so fucking invested in you because I’m fucking inlove with you, you idiot!”

Your voice silenced the room, the grip he had on your hand tightening as he stared at you with shocked eyes yet the same familiar scowl you were used to. Your expression never faltered the way his eyes did when he heard you, though. You stood your ground.

“It’s so annoying seeing the guy you are inlove with be so unhappy in a relationship because he feels as if he has no one else.” Your voice began to quiet down, a tear slipping down your eye as Bakugou watched you with a slightly softened face.

The hand gripping yours loosened a bit, still gripping it to his chest as he wrapped all his fingers around your bracelet covered wrist.

“It’s so annoying watching you try to force someone else to fall inlove with you, when I’ve been inlove with you for free for years. It hurts watching you try to force yourself to be inlove with a girl you know you don’t want to be with. It just fucking hurts Bakugou, so fucking bad.”

There was a crack in your voice that Bakugou knew all too well from the restless nights you’d spend together, and it didn’t take much for him to engulf your frame into a tight hug as he rested his head against yours. You dived into his chest, the familiar warmth wrapping around you in a way that made a few more tears slip from your eyes. You didn’t make a noise, but he knew that you were hurting.

Neither of you said anything, only holding each other until you removed yourself from him and wiped the tears off your face before he could see the evident streams marking your cheeks. He stared at you silently, as if he was contemplating something.

With timid eyes, he watched you fix the straps of your dress to find something to play with under his gaze. The silence was deafening, and was an unusual characteristic for the boy who always had something to say.

“You know she hates me, that’s why you never bring her around me.” You said, a tone of blankness carrying your voice through the room as your tears dried up and was replaced by the anger haunting your heart once again.

“No she doesn’t, she just feels like we’re too close.” Bakugou retorted, sighing and taking a seat on the chair he once occupied. You followed suit, leaning against the back of your own seat as you faced his body.

“Back in high school, I never told you this, but her and I argued in the bathroom once.” You informed, dryly chuckling as you watched his face contort with confusion.

“I told her that her pretty little face and fucked up manipulation wasn’t going to keep you around in the long run.” You stood quiet after letting him know, gulping some saliva down as you averted your gaze from his body to your painted nails. “Guess I was wrong.”

Bakugou didn’t know what to do. There were many things the man was capable of: he could destroy any villain in his way, was braver than any other fucking half assed hero out there, was smart as fuck, and could manage a relationship as well as being a top pro-hero because that’s just who he was.

What he couldn’t do, though, was fully digest the situation in front of him.

He bit his lip, running a hand across his face in frustration and staring meekly at your face. You couldn’t help but admire his frame as you did before. He was strong, well-built, smelled good, had great posture— there was nothing wrong with him. It was almost surreal.

“We’ve been dating for like two years.” Bakugou’s low voice broke the silence as he stared deep into your now glazed over eyes. You didn’t break the contact, hands rested against each side of the seat as you watched him speak.

“I’ve been dating her for two years and yet...” His words were lost, almost sounding as if he was hesitating the very same way you were earlier. You said nothing though, knowing he would stop expressing himself if you had opened your mouth.

“And yet I can’t help but imagine she was someone else.”

It was like every word he said was the last glass of water, and you drank it up against your skin in a way that brought goosebumps to his. You furrowed your eyebrows, silently signaling for him to continue.

“I never told you this,” he mocked your voice, his scowl still resting against his soft face, “but there was a time where I thought about what it would be like if we were a shitty thing.”

Everyone always assumed Bakugou and you would end up together. Whether it be from watching you both pin are each other relentlessly, to watching you fawn over him, and from just watching your interactions with one another— it almost seemed destined for you two to work out. Keyword: almost.

“Shitty Hair and Dunce-Face tell me all the fucking time that I’m an idiot for choosing this girl over you.” He scoffed, and you couldn’t help but feel your stomach tingle at the use of the name ‘this girl’ for his own girlfriend. “It’s not like I wanted to, you were always my first option.”

You stood quiet. The last sentence was lower than the others and sounded way more vulnerable. You couldn’t help but gape at him, repeating it in your brain as if they was the last words you’d ever hear again. You were always my first option.

Maybe it was the buzz you felt from the energy within the room, maybe you were drunk on adrenaline, or maybe you were just being a fucking dumbass, but the way your feet moved you from your seat to the desk he was sitting at was something you just couldn’t stop in time.

Bakugou hasn’t said anything beyond what he just finished as he watched you gently push his body away and hop up onto the desk. Your body was now inches away from his as you watched him shyly. You were always so obnoxiously close to him, so why is it that his stomach was throwing fireballs at his insides now?

“You deserve better, Katsu..” You lowly began, fiddling with the rings on your fingers as you glanced over at his body through your dark eyelashes. “Does she take care of you?”

Your words hit him in the chest and he couldn’t find it within himself to look away from you. He wasn’t sure what it was, or how you were doing it, but he was entranced by your every word and it was scaring the shit out of him. He found himself shaking his head, eyes never leaving yours as the scowl in his face began to soften.

“You’re a strong man, Katsu,” the way his nickname slipped from your lips nearly made him melt, the unfamiliar feelings he was so used to suppressing caused his head to jumble around and process your words, “you need someone who takes care of you the right way.”

You watched him, a hand lifting towards his head and running itself through his soft yet spikey hair. Bakugou always claimed he hated it when you played with his hair since that was something he thought no one was close enough to be able to touch, but he always seemed to lean into you unknowingly.

His chair scooted closer to the table, your legs now in between his lazily opened ones and his body aching to go closer into your touch.

“What are you suggesting?” His dark voice questioned, eyes staring at you as the once softened expression transformed into another of a slowly rising mischievous smirk. You were sure you were breathing earlier, but now? Not so much.

“Are you suggesting that I need someone else to take care of me?” His words hit you hard, your body facing whiplash from all the sudden changes of emotion.

You looked down shyly, trying to find the confidence you once had that was now lost in the gush of your flustered moment, yet Bakugou’s calloused, warm hand then reached up to your chin to perk it up to face his now standing body.

“Are you saying that you should be the one taking care of me?” He asked, staring at your eyes with more intensity than you were fully even prepared for. Your eyes dug into his as the feeling of his hands on your chin caused your brain to short circuit for a moment.

“You said it yourself, I’m a strong man.” You could feel the confidence drip from his words as you bit your left cheek to keep from whimpering at the intensity laced within the empty classroom. “I need someone to take care of me the right way, and I don’t think this girl is doing it Y/N.”

The use of your name caused you to tug your bottom lip between your teeth and blush behind his words. You didn’t miss the way his eyes quickly zipped from your eyes to your mouth, and back to your eyes once again. His body was now towering over your seated one, looking down at you as if you were the only person in the world at this moment.

Bakugou was out of it, to say the least. Usually he felt as if he had control over situations like this, but even with towering over your frame and his hand gripping your chin, he felt as if you were in complete control of the situation. He knew that his current girlfriend was probably coming to look for him, and he knew that everything was inevitable and he was simply just prolonging it.

That didn’t stop him from sliding his hand across your neck to grip the back of it and pull your face in towards him.

A kiss was the last thing you were expecting, and you would have gasped if his lips weren’t putting you in such a trance. It was like everything had stopped, time stopped, the dance stopped, everything was just on a hiatus.

His tongue danced against yours in a way that made you whimper lowly into his touch. His hands explored your body, rubbing against you in exasperated motions as you reciprocated by rubbing your hands across his chest, shoulders, and waist. It was like you were both doing the last thing you’d do before the world came to an end.

His lips moved feverishly across your own as tilted your head upwards to get a more comfortable position. A warm yet equally rough hand snaked it’s way back onto your neck and gripped your throat with such possession, you felt a tingle reach your lower half.

The intensity of the make out was one that put every other sound to shame as the room was filled with nothing but the small whimpers coming from either of you and the sound of your lips smacking against his. It was like a dream, and Bakugou couldn’t control himself any longer as he groaned into your touch.

It wasn’t until a gasp broke the seductive silence within the room, as well as pushed the two of you apart only to see his girlfriend staring at the two of you with wide eyes and a fizzy drink in both of her hands., that you realized something.

Shit just got really fucking complicated.

—

back to masterlist

I wanna have an angsty kiss moment with bakugou

>:( damnit anyways yeah like, reblog, comment, follow! thanks for reading! don’t forget to send some requests in <3

- heilly

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goodlucktkachuk · 4 years ago

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Cheer you up - Carter Hart

Summary: Carter was the best boyfriend you could ever hoped for. The two of you moved in together at the start of quarantine and with school starting up for you again, you’ve been super stressed. He decides to do something nice for you and he planned the perfect at home self care night. When he went shopping he grabbed the wrong kind of face mask and his reaction is more then enough to cheer you up.

Warnings: None this is just super fullfy and cute

Word count: 2k+

Back to school was your favorite times of year. There was something about buying new supplies and the rush of campus that made electricity flow through your body but this year was different. Not only were you cooped up in Philly with your boyfriend Carter but it was your last year of university which added some pressure.

You had met Carter when you guys were sixteen and it was the definition of love at first sight. You went to everyone of his games and were more then extatic when he got drafted to Philly. You had just started university so you stayed in Alberta while he got to live his dream. You guys made the distance work but you were definitely missing some of those quality time moments your friends took for granted in their relationships. When this whole mess of a pandemic started, Carter asked you to move in with him for the time being and you jumped at the chance.

The months before Carter was sent to Toronto were filled with you searching for internships and him doing whatever training he could do at home so you would usually do your own thing but together. The first few weeks of Carter being sent home from the bubble were hard but he had you there to cook him all of his favourites and spend endless nights cuddling to his favorite movies. It was exactlly what he needed to recover as the summer slowly faded away. Now as autumn filled the air it was once again your turn to be stressed.

It was a sunny September morning and you found yourself on your second cup of coffee in Carter’s home office. Your makeup was done perfectly and your hair was pulled up into a messy bun as one of Carter's worn out practices hoodies hung on your frame. You were thankful that your laptop camera cut out the fact you were still in your pjs with a blanket wrapped tight around your waist. As much as you liked the idea of Zoom lectures, the several hours of classes and meetings really dragged the fun out of your days.

Around 10am your boyfriend stumbled out of bed and you could hear the soft hum of music and dishes clanking coming from the kitchen as he made the two of you breakfast. After a few minutes you heard the door slowly creek open and you were met with a sleepy Carter. A smile covering your lips as you watched him make his way into the room. His hair was tousled in every direction and his pjs hung low on his waist giving you a clear view of his entire bare torso. You weren’t with Carter because he was a professional athlete but it was mornings like this you that you could appreciate all the hours he spent training.

You turned off your webcam as he put a smoothie bowl in front of you and planted a kiss on your temple, mumbling a soft I love you against your skin. You pulled him in for a quick kiss and he was gone again. This is how most days went. Carter would bring you breakfast and lunch and refill your water through the day while you worked and he knew when you finally stumbled out of the room it was time for dinner. He was more than happy to have you around but he wished you didn’t have to spend so many hours locked away.

This morning in particular he could see how drained you were and decided that tonight would be all about you. You deserved it with all the hard work you’d been doing. Slipping into your shared bedroom he got dressed and texted you quickly saying he was running to the store and he’d be back soon.

The one thing about Carter was that he prided himself on how romantic he was. He knew you like the back of his hand and used that to his advantage whenever he possible could. Whether it was expensive dinners when you were together, sending you bouquets of sunflowers when he was away or the odd care package full of his clothes with sweet notes in the pockets, the boy knew how to make you happy. Something the two of you had never done though was self care which in hindsight should’ve been one of your first dates because of how much you loved it.

This was the game plan. He was going to the store to pick up all the ingredients he needed to cook you your favorite food, some instant cookie dough for you guys to bake after dinner, face masks to do together and new vanilla soap to end the night with a bath together. After what seemed like the longest shopping experience ever he was met with the last stop, picking out face masks. It didn’t cross Carter's mind that there could be so many different kinds to choose from it kind of overwhelmed him. How could there be this much variety of things you put on your face? Why did they come in so many colors? So many scents? Lost, he randomly grabbed a black bottle for himself and a soft violet one for you and headed home.

When he returned you were still nose deep in books in the same position he left you so he knew you wouldn’t be finished anytime soon. He put the bathroom supplies into a cute basket he picked up and placed it on the corner of the counter as he started assembling dinner. After a few hours you were brought out of your daze by the smell of something delicious filling the room. Closing your book and laptop you decided to wrap it up for the day and see what your boyfriend was up to.

As you made your way to the kitchen you were met with Carters back as he was portioning something out onto two plates. You were in awe as you turned your attention to the table. It was perfectly set with a fresh vase of flowers and your favorite candles were lit to set the mood. You caught your boyfriends eye as he made his way over to the table to set down the two plates. Making his way over to you, he placed his hands lazily around you and placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Surprise babe!” He was beaming with pride as he walked you to your chair, pulling it out for you to sit.

“What is all this for?” You panicked for a moment thinking you forgot an anniversary or something important. Carter could hear the concern in your voice which made him laugh.

“Just wanted to do something nice for my girl that’s all.” He smiled widely as he filled your glass with white wine.

The meal was absolutely delicious and the company was even better. As you picked up your plate to clear it Carter sent you a look and you slowly placed it back down. He had a rule where if he cooked for you he refused to let you touch the dishes because it was his way of showing how much he loved you. The same rule went a few minutes later as the two of you struggled to make the world's easiest cookies.

“Carter you have to twist it!” You giggled as you watched your boyfriend struggle to pry the top off the cookie dough.

“That doesn’t make sense Y/n!” Tired of watching him struggle you snatched it from his hand.

“Hey! Give that back!” He yelled as he began to chase you around the kitchen. He eventually snatched you by the waist, pulling your back into his chest. At the same time you tapped the cylinder off the counter and cranked it with a hard twist and watched the dough split open.

Pouting into your shoulder Carter let out a sigh of defeat and exhaustion.

“See, if you listened you could have avoided the work out.”

“For you sweetheart, I’d run to the other side of the world .” He leaned down and brought you into a sweet kiss. Even after six years, fireworks still exploded in your stomach everytime his lips touched yours.

“Hey Alexa, play kinda freaking in love with you on spotify.” You placed the cookie dough on the counter and wrapped your arms around his neck as he placed his around your waist. You danced around your kitchen for what felt like an eternity. The two of you swaying and spinning, looking into the other eyes with such admiration. Both of you thinking of how sweet this moment would be at your wedding but keeping those thoughts locked up tight. Eventually the preheating timer for the oven went off and ripped the two of you out of your day dream.

“Come one the faster we make these the faster we can eat them!” He sprang out of your grasp and laughter filled the kitchen as you finished up.

Your favorite part about these kinds of nights with Carter was that it felt like you were in your own universe. The two of you were protected from the outside world and all that matter was each other.

Once you had cleaned up it was on to the third phase of the night which you knew was going to be your favorite. Grabbing the basket off the counter you skipped to the bathroom with your boyfriends hand pressed firmly into yours. You hopped up on the counter and handed him the purple bottle as you took the black one in your hand. Extending your leg, you half wrapped it around his and pulled him closer to you. Squirting some of the liquid into your hands you started slowly rubbing it into his skin.

“Ahh babe that's cold!” He chuckled as he tried to pull away.

“Just sit still! You’ll get used to it I promise.” He relaxed into your touch and stopped fighting you. Soon after you were done he followed suit, putting the light purple clay all over your face with only light guidance. You stayed like that while the masks dried. Your legs lazily tangled in his with his hands on your waist whispering sweet nothings with massive grins covering your faces. Hopping off the counter you pulled out your phone to snap a cute picture of the two of you and it was time to take off the masks.

“So all you have to do is start at the edge of your face and pull gently.” You demstraded, wincing slightly as it pulled on your skin.

“What do you mean pull? I thought you just washed these off with water?”

“Some kinds yes but you bought peel off ones.”

“I did?”

You reached down and placed the bottle into his hand. Examining it closely seeing you were right a look of horror crossed his face. You didn’t pay much mind to your boyfriend as you were pulling off your own mask. He had gotten most of it off his face with minimal mumbling of curse words but then he ran into a problem.

“Y/n…” his vice trailed off as he looked at you and you burst out laughing. Carter stood in front of you with his face mask clingy to his stubble making it look like he had bread and you couldn’t get enough of it.

“Y/n this isn’t funny help me!” He whined, causing you to laugh even harder.

“Okay, okay! Sit still muffin. This is gonna hurt a little bit.” a wicked grin covered your face as you worked.

You tried your best not to hurt him too bad and he honestly took it like a champ. When it was all over you peeled off your mask. You could hear the water begin to run in the other direction and you could also hear the sound of Carter’s clothes hitting the floor making your cheeks stain red. It wasn’t long before your clothes joined his pile on the floor and you were wrapped in the warm embrace of both your boyfriend and the water. You closed your eyes and relaxed into his touch and felt his chest rise and sink against your back. He placed a small kiss on your temple and pulled you in closer.

“I love you.”

“Love you more C.”

#carter hart #soft fic #carter hart imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #philidelphia flyers #flyers imagine #hockey

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years ago

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Day 21: Prinxiety (pt 2)

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 21: Combine two soulmate prompts. (This will make sense soon, I promise.)

It’s the sequel you’ve all been waiting for! This is the second part to day 16 (read that first!!!!!), and y’all finally get to see what happened to Virgil! Please heed the trigger warnings below.

TRIGGER/content WARNINGS!! Anxiety, food mention, crappy foster system/group homes, implied past abuse, religious guilt/negative view of religion, homophobia, conversion therapy/abuse, starvation, sneaking medication (antipsychotics/side effects), electrocution, seizure, ambulance. I’m sorry.

Word count: 3.8k

Unlike most kids in the foster system, Virgil didn’t know his birthday. He knew it was sometime in December, but that didn’t do much. Technically, birthdays weren’t really a huge thing anyways, not when the group home he rarely left was awfully underfunded, and a party came second to little things like working sinks and clothes without holes. Even still, all the other kids at least got a little cupcake and a half hearted birthday song on their special day, and his festivities were pushed onto Christmas. He didn’t get a weak excuse for a celebration, because the other kids ‘found it unfair’ that he got that and Christmas in the same month. To prevent an upheaval, the workers told him that he’d just have to be happy with what he got.

But it wasn’t fair, because some kids got Easter and a birthday, or Halloween and a birthday, or New Years and a birthday, and poor Virgil didn’t. The fact of the matter was, they plain didn’t like him. The other kids didn’t like that he got extra free time because of his anxiety, or was allowed to leave the table when they weren’t, and they especially didn’t like he was the youngest of the bunch. The youngest had the highest chance of getting adopted, it was just facts, so they had seemingly decided that if his stay here would be the shortest, it would be the most tortured.

It wasn’t the shortest stay, though. With his barrage of anxiety related issues and group-home-toughened demeanor, no foster home wanted to deal with him. He was snarky, ran away, regularly got in fights with the biological children of the parents, and was promptly labeled a problem child. Eventually, it was deemed easier for him to just stay in a group home until he outgrew the system, since he seemed set to escape every other place. Virgil tried to pretend it didn’t hurt as much as it did; it was his fault, after all. As he watched all his older tormentors grow out of a crooked system, he resigned himself to the same fate. After all, he was almost sixteen now, and he knew his chances were out. So he stayed stuck in his group home, lashing out at his caretakers and therapists, refusing to eat unless it was alone in his room (technically, three kids slept in there, but he so rarely left it, and they wanted to avoid him, it was unofficially deemed his room), and listening to music on his phone.

He’d been given the phone on his fifteenth birthday, a gift from one of his caretakers. It was the cheapest piece of crap he’d ever seen, glitched out every other minute and needed to be charged at least three times a day, but it was a phone nonetheless. Granted, he had no one to text. But he had access to a computer, a totally one hundred percent legal music downloading website, and a strong sense of determination, so he’d soon filled the phone’s entire measly storage with all the music he could cram on the thing.

That’s what he was doing on the night of December 18th, listening to his “Emo Playlist” on a pair of $4 Dollar Store earbuds, laying on his bed and finding shapes in his popcorn ceiling as the moon shone through the window. In the bunk beds across the room from him, his two other roommates were fast asleep, but he couldn’t follow suit. It was sadly normal for Virgil to have sleepless nights where no matter what, his anxious brain just wouldn’t shut off, and it just felt like one of those nights. His hands shook and his eyelids flinched every few seconds for no reason, so he turned the music just a little bit louder and tried to calm his breathing.

It was just past 1 am when his life changed forever.

He was on the fourth cycle of his playlist, eyes no more heavy than hours before and just as flinchy. It was just entering the “existential crisis” time of the night where he started questioning reality, and he was about to give in and start letting his mind drift to darker places, when a song distinctly not his began to play in the midst of a song switch.

How can you miss someone you’ve never met?

Because I need you now but I don’t know you yet,

But can you find me soon, because I’m in my head,

Yeah, I need you now but I don’t know you yet.

He froze, eyes suddenly wide open, and yanked the earbuds out of his ears. The song continued; not in his headphones, but in his head. It didn’t take an idiot to realize that it was his soulmate, responding, and as an afterthought, Virgil suddenly identified that today was probably his birthday. Both amazing revelations, but one was slightly more time sensitive.

Desperately scrolling through his playlists as the song stopped after the chorus, he tried to find a song that would be an adequate introduction to this new person. When his eyes landed on a song from his Adele phase (he didn’t talk about that time) that he hadn’t had the energy to delete yet, he simultaneously groaned and grinned. Subtly meme-y, heartfelt like the song his soulmate had played, a decent greeting. He tapped play.

Hello,

It’s me.

He hoped his soulmate had the same sense of humor of him and had actually given a laugh, since he was trying to stifle laughter behind his sleeve to avoid waking the sleeping kids. He paused after the first verse, since he didn’t really want to remember that phase of his life more than he had to, and waited for the other to play the next song. Hopefully they could work out some sort of rhythm, play songs back and forth. He for sure wouldn’t be able to sleep now.

(The next song his soulmate played was an almost atrocious obviously-musical-theatre song that almost made Virgil hit his head against the wall, so he retaliated with a favorite of his, the most ear assaulting screamo he could find on his playlist.)

The clock had just passed four in the morning when there was a small pause in the routine, before his soulmate played a children’s lullaby. It definitely wasn’t something you’d listen to in everyday life, so Virgil could only assume it was the other’s way of indicating that they had to sleep. As if I’m going to let you go that easily, Virgil smirked, opening YouTube and begging that the video he’d chosen would play without an ad.

It did, filling his crackling, cheap earbuds with the opening chorus of Baby Shark. Fight fire with fire, he decided, chuckling to himself as he turned off the song just before the ‘mommy shark’ verse. Silence filled his head and he mentally wished the other a good night, turning onto his stomach and screaming into his pillow, grinning madly.

Eight months later, their new way of life was deeply imbedded into him; getting woken up at asscrack o’clock in the morning by a worker who wanted to be there as much as he did, and either playing his morning playlist to get himself slightly more ready to face another monotonous day or waiting in silence until his soulmate woke up and played their own music. He’d begrudgingly started to even enjoy the showtunes. Everyone around the home had noticed his gradual shift in attitude, and he couldn’t help the natural smiles that pulled at his cheeks when a new song played out of nowhere. It got to the point where his therapist noticed his lifted mood, and the other kids stopped avoiding him and, unknown to Virgil, his social workers decided that he was ready to try another foster home.

That’s why, eight months later, there was a knock on his bedroom door and his main worker poked in her head, asking him to come downstairs. He’d been playing music for his soulmate, so he silently apologized and joined her at the dining room table, giving her a half hearted smile.

“Virgil, we’ve found a new home for you. A foster home that specializes in… harder to place cases. They’ve opened their doors to you, and we’re hoping to get you into a trial period there within the next week.”

At first, Virgil vehemently refused. No. He didn’t want to go back to foster homes, not after… everything he went to in the first few. The ones that hurt him, the ones that were more densely crowded than group homes, the ones that turned him into the angry shell he was before he had met a sign of a possibly happy future. He didn’t want to lose the progress he’d made.

But Bev looked so hopeful, so pleadingly at him, that he gave in after three days of denying. He said goodbye to the kids he’d unfortunately grown attached to, threw his few belongings into a black garbage bag, and got into his worker’s car for the first time in years. Just rebuckling that seatbelt caused a shudder to run up his spine.

------1 month later------

“Virgil, what are you doing? Do you have earbuds in? We’ve made it abundantly clear that you are not to have technology at the table.”

Virgil fought every urge in his body to roll his eyes, flicking his hair behind his ears to show they were empty. It had gotten long and shaggy, just reaching his jaw in the back. “No earbuds. My soulmate’s listening to music, and it’s catchy.” Frankly, he was surprised he hadn’t been caught bopping along to silence before by the stiflers.

They were nice enough, a woman and a man and their two biological children, but they were too religious for Virgil’s liking. He’d never had qualms with religion before, but he had grown tired of spending Saturdays and Sundays (his only days off from their homeschool regime) in a church, surrounded by older people singing repetitive songs and being yelled at by a guy on the pulpit. Faking being sick only worked so many times before they refused to listen to his excuses. They also insisted he go to a specialized youth group on Tuesdays, but that was easy enough to escape. He just waved by and booked it to the closest 7/11 when they left, making sure he was back at the church by the time it was over and made up some bullshit about the gathering. Jameson, the attendant at the gas station, was becoming the closest friend he’d ever had.

“Your soulmate?” One of the children asked around a bite of toast, spitting a decent amount onto Virgil’s sleeve.

“Like daddy and I, Mariam.” The woman explained briefly, not bothering to chastise her about speaking with her mouth full.

“Yeah.” Unlike most of the kids at his old group home, he wasn’t warming up to theirs. They were too spoiled, too bratty. One had even bit him in his first week here and he was still bitter about it.

“When did you connect with yours, Virgil?” The question wasn’t asked kindly, more for the sake of being polite, and he assumed if he didn’t answer in an equally polite tone, they’d probably make him paint a fence or something.

He knew they cared about his bond about as much as he did about theirs. Which was approximately none. The mom took her children’s empty plates and placed them in the sink, Virgil quickly following suit. No use losing more computer time because he didn’t clean his plate.

“Last December. I didn’t even know it was my birthday, and they started playing music out of nowhere. It was pretty cool.” He finished rinsing off his plate and was confused at the sudden stillness in the room.

“‘They’?” The mom asked, giving her husband what she must have believed to be a subtle glance.

“Uhm… yeah?” Virgil said slowly, “I’m bisexual. So I’m not sure if my partner’s a guy or a girl or… something in between. So… they?”

He stared with rising anxiety as the two parents had a silent interaction over the kitchen island, before the dad stood up. “Kids, plates in the sink and then go get ready for church. Virgil, you too.”

There was minimal whining as the younger ones did as they were asked, racing each other up the stairs. Virgil followed, slower, listening to hushed beginnings of a conversation, unable to fight the feeling that he’d just royally fucked up.

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

“Virgil, may we speak with you for a moment?”

He froze, slowly turning from where he’d been half way up the stairs. They’d just wrapped up lessons for the day (Virgil never thought he’d miss an actual school building before, but alas) and the kids had been excused, leaving just him and the parents behind. It had been almost a week since the incident, and a part of him had been hoping they’d just drop it. There wasn’t much they could do, anyways; if their religion conflicted so badly with his sexuality, the worst they would do is send him back to the home anyways. In all honesty, he kind of hoped they would. He was sick of being here, and it was better for his record if he didn’t run.

Not that it mattered much anymore. He was almost aged out of the system anyways.

He took a cautious seat back at the dining room table, which they had just cleared from classes. The mom sat back in her chair, eyeing him carefully, as the dad began to speak.

“We spoke with our pastor the other day, and we think it would be best if we put you in therapy.”

“I don’t…” He’d stopped regular therapy at the group home almost a month before coming here, and he couldn’t imagine why he’d need to go back. He definitely wasn’t happy here, but he didn’t figure a grumpy mood was enough to warrant counseling. “I don’t understand.”

“After… what you told us? About your… urges-”

“Urges.” He couldn’t help his own disgusted tone. Of course they were homophobic.

“Yes. Our pastor suggested we try conversion therapy.”

Virgil scoffed, but he couldn’t ignore the way his heart started pounding, “Right. As if you could ever get my social workers to approve that. Ward of the state, remember?” He tapped his chest a couple times.

“Fortunately, we already talked to your social worker, Virgil. We had it approved just this morning.” The man finally stopped, as if waiting for a response.

Virgil’s eyes grew wide as he looked frantically between the two of them, the woman quickly avoiding eye contact. That wasn’t normal.

“There’s no way in hell that you-”

“Profanity, Virgil!” The man barked and Virgil shrank back in his chair, impulsively ducking to avoid a fist that didn’t come. They hadn’t hit him so far, but old habits die hard. “We’ve already signed you up. Your first session is tomorrow. First thing’s first-” He stood up, reaching a hand out to a still-shaking Virgil, “Hand over your phone.”

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

His hair was short now. Shorter than he could ever remember it being. He missed his bangs, he missed the tiny boosts of confidence it gave him when the rest of his appearance disgusted him. Now there was nothing for his hands to run through. There was no style to it, just an electric razor in the hands of his silent foster mother. He should have fought it, he really should have, but he was shaking far too much to try to move.

He didn’t like hands so near his throat.

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

Surely, his social worker didn’t approve of this. The only explanation Virgil could possibly rationalize was they’d lied about the purpose of the therapy, or the method, or something. But any type of change in a foster kid's life had to go through about a million different levels to get approved, so how the hell were they getting away with this?

It wasn’t too bad. A lot of it was using religious guilt, something Virgil did not have much of, saying he was immoral and inhumane. The rest of it was just his new therapist trying to dig into his supposed ‘trauma’ that made him ‘this way’, as if there was something that caused it. They talked a lot about his old foster homes, and his therapist seemed positive something there had to be the root to everything. It made his blood boil.

It didn’t help that they still hadn’t given his phone back, and they confined him to his room when he wasn’t doing school work at the kitchen table. He could hear the way his soulmate was losing morale, the longer he didn’t respond. The songs were darker, and were few and far between. They still refused to play songs on what he’d called ‘his days’.

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

His ‘therapy’ had ended hours ago, and yet he couldn’t stop twitching. Every time he closed his eyes in a vain attempt to sleep, it was like the electrodes were attached to him again. The images they’d shown him flashed before his eyes, of men kissing, holding hands, and were quickly followed by the sharp sting of electric shocks. He couldn’t close his eyes without flinching violently, no music to calm his nerves.

Virgil didn’t sleep that night.

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

He held to the music like an anchor, soaking in every rare song his soulmate played like a sponge. It was his only relief from the hunger pangs in his stomach, reminding him that he hadn’t been allowed to eat at all in the day leading up to another therapy session. Apparently they wanted to put him on some kind of medication, try to increase the intensity of his sessions. It was getting to the point where Virgil was tempted to pretend it was working just to make them stop.

He missed his soulmate.

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

No. He’d said no to the drugs. They wanted to put him on anti-psychotics, claiming he was severely mentally ill, and he’d downright refused. There was no way in hell he was going on anti-psychotics. Finally, after days of their demanding being met with stubbornness, they’d given in.

That had been a month ago. Maybe. Time had gotten kind of funny, like in that limbo between Christmas and New Years, or in the depths of summer break. It had been a while, for sure. They still fed him so rarely a growling stomach was more common than a full one, claiming it was part of his new therapy. He couldn’t help wonder why he was gaining weight, though. He’d been underweight for a majority of his life, thanks to a constantly overworking metabolism and genetics, along with the nasty food they served at group homes that he gladly avoided, but he was starting to fill out slightly. His ribs were barely showing.

That would be a symptom of being on antipsychotics, he knew from previous research. But he wasn’t on them, so why…?

He took another sip of his apple juice his foster mom had brought him, trying to focus on his homework. Had apple juice always tasted that bitter?

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

They’d gone too far this time, Virgil knew that much. Curse his stubbornness, his inability to just lie and go along with it. He could have just claimed the conversion therapy was working, ‘oh golly, I’m healed!’, and go on with his life, finally talk to his fucking social worker, but no. He wasn’t capable of that.

They’d shown him more pictures, shocking him more frequently, refusing to stop the session even as tears streamed down his face. It just hurt so bad. Then he remembered a shout (maybe his own?), blinding pain, and the next thing he knew, he was in his foster dad’s car. He said he’d had a seizure, but he was okay now, so they were heading home. A cup of water was forced down his throat and he was laid down in bed, commanded to rest. He was so confused, but also so tired, so he let his eyes drift shut.

Just before he lost consciousness for the second time that day, he heard a soft melody drift through his mind as his soulmate played another song. It had been so long since the last time he’d heard them play music… despite his exhaustion, he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

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

The days had been a bit of a blur since his seizure. It was probably because his brain had done the human equivalent to ‘Have you tried turning it off and back on again?’, but even that was hazy in his mind. All he wanted to do was sleep, to rest, to not have to do the school work that they were still shoving down his throat. From where he was laying motionless in his bed, he watched the slowly setting sun dip below the horizon.

There was a knock at the door downstairs. Virgil flinched from the noise, triggering a series of twitches down his spine and into his limbs. People were talking downstairs. He could distinctly hear the voice of his foster parents, but the others were unfamiliar. They were getting louder, near shouting, and there were pounding footsteps echoing up the stairs and down his hallway.

He couldn’t even find the energy to be scared as his door was thrown open and a man’s voice shouted, “He’s in here!”. A flurry of people stormed into the room, the ones in the lead dressed in blue.

Clambering, people shifting to make space, a woman holding his hand. She was asking him questions as they loaded him into a stretcher and he tried his best to answer, but he was just so tired. His name was said multiple times, as well as the names of his foster parents, but it was hazy, so hazy…

“We were just trying to help, I didn’t want this to happen, I don’t-”

“Quiet, woman!”

She raised her voice but it was growing farther away. Virgil realized with a start that he was looking at the sky, bumping along on the gravel path, the bright lights of an ambulance flashing across his vision.

The husband shouted again, trying to silence his wife. That was the last thing Virgil heard as the doors slammed shut, and he finally allowed his eyes to close.

Part 3 HERE

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#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #abuse tw #conversion therapy tw #ts soulmate au #sanders sides fanfiction #sanderssides #sanderssidesfanfiction #sanderssidesau #sanders sides au #sanders sides

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nyoomgoboom · 4 years ago

Text

not to intrude...

on the note of that last stream... the way everyone reacted? i might have written a lil thing at 3 am... (threw in techno too)

The path had never seemed so grim. It never truly belonged to anyone else, not since he walked across and made it his. Weathered from use, the boards leaned and creaked, as if welcoming their oldest friend home. He would never make it home.

The flowers crawled upward in the sky, stretching and spreading in the downpour. Not a day old, they couldn’t know the history. Perhaps it was a blessing, a closure in a new beginning. At least he would get to have that.

Ranboo looked on. There weren’t the right words. The rain poured in small rivers off the edges of his umbrella, pattering against the wood uncomfortably. Was it his own fault? Was this even real? How much did he truly remember? How much would he forget? Nothing seemed to make sense anymore, did it? Not in a long time. But so long as Ranboo had been here, so had he. It couldn’t be that he was... gone. How long would it be until his name would be unrecognizable? How long until Ranboo was? A single, steady exhale blew past his lips. This place, Ranboo thought, was too much. The prison was ever present in all their lives, dominating the skyline beyond the hotel. It was watching them, waiting for them, waiting for Ranboo. Curling in his tail, Ranboo took one last look at the home in the earth. It would make a good resting place. He would be lucky to have that. Stoic, Ranboo turned. The path murmured under his feet, and the thread between him and the prison stretched taut behind him.

Jack couldn’t win, could he? There was nothing in revenge, nothing in death. He was gone now, and Jack felt no joy. Only a strange sort of respect. He hadn’t died a hero, he had never wanted to be. He was a kid, Jack realized, seeing the burrow in the ground all over again. He was a kid who had nothing but the clothes on his back, the discs in his hand, and a sort of purpose Jack never had. He took everything from Jack, and yet never had anything much at all. Perhaps that was worth something. Jack took a step back, feeling the presence of the hotel looming behind him. But what was Jack without him?

It had been a long time since Quackity had spoken to Tommy. The whirlwind he lived, Schlatt to Karl and Sapnap, war games and politics from Manburg to El Rapids to Kinoko, all of it seemed so... fresh. Because he was what started this whole mess, wasn’t he? Drug heists like delinquent children, scamming and cheating like there was no law. And there wasn’t. Times were simpler then. And suddenly there was divide, and work to be done and justice to be served and love to be had and revenge to be enacted... and yet, their battles were ultimately the same. Would Quackity have suffered the same fate? There was guilt. There was regret. But mostly, the painful churn in his stomach that it could have been anyone, but it was just him, just the little boy who wanted to scam and play and laugh. It could have been anyone. Quackity’s eyes burned, proof the wet on his face wasn’t just the rain. He stalked away, too jerky in his movements, too much determination in his step. He raised his chin to the clouds. There was hell yet to pay.

It took a moment to slot the disc into the jukebox; his hands were so shaky, betraying the blank expression on his face. He cradled the other disc to his chest. Safekeeping. He would hold on to the disc for now, until he was back. He was coming back. It’s what he would’ve wanted. The music began to drift, scattered by the rain. It seemed to phase in and out of Tubbo’s awareness as he sat, staring out over the cliff side. The water soaked through his pants as he curled into himself on the bench, the sound of rustling leaves overhead. If he thought hard enough, he was right there beside him, as if they had won another battle, like they always did. They always would. They were always meant to. Tubbo didn’t notice when the music ended. He didn’t notice the new flowers as they lined the entrance of the house as each visitor came, lined up like soldiers in bloom. He didn’t notice the creak of the path, not the light of the sun as it peeked over the horizon, not the unusual quiet in the lands as they woke. He’d be back. And if Tubbo thought hard enough, he was already there with him. It was hard to tell, sometimes.

It was torture, the prison. Watching, just watching the inmate. Watching the blood dry, on the floor, on his knuckles, on Sam’s own hands. Why hadn’t he listened? He refused Bad’s offer to go home, Frost’s offer to take a shift off. He was the warden, and this was his prison, and he was responsible for it, and dammit there was blood on the walls and tears on his face and the inmate, sitting there, indifferent. The monster. Sam seemed to be choking on nothing, choking all the same. Why hadn’t he listened? How could he listen to the screams, trapping him in a cage with a beast... for his own safety? How stupid could Sam have been? He collapsed again, driving his palms into his eyes until he saw red and the familiar flash of twisted limbs and a cold, slack face. Gasping, he opened his eyes again. The monster smiled back at him. It was torture, this prison.

Technoblade took the news quietly. Paper burned in the fireplace, crackling as Phil poked at it, unable to do much more but ease the indomitable shock. Ranboo, for his size, took the smallest space in the room he had ever. It was hard not to, the weight of the news in the room larger than any mob, than any explosion could have caused. Techno took Steve out quietly, the two of them walking, etching a path in the snow until Techno didn’t recognize where he was. It was quiet here. Too quiet. It was quiet everywhere. Not even the voices that plagued his head had much to say, but... the kid’s voice was missing. Of course, it had been gone for a while, but now the hollow of the air seemed so profound, so profoundly wrong. There was no sound of opening chests, no rummaging raccoon, no creaking floorboards or incessant snacking. It was the most oppressive quiet Technoblade had ever felt in his life. It might have been hours until Ranboo found him, collapsed beside Steve, face buried in the fur and throat scratchy and hoarse from filling the silence. It was hard to get used to the quiet again.

This symphony, half-written and ripped; it was never meant to finish. The last notes hung on a beg for mercy and a shaky, bloodied breath. What symphony can you have when your orchestra is shattered?

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volfoss · 3 years ago

Note

Gimme your headcanons for Abba Giorno and Mista 🤲

hi em "prosciutto lover" sandworms this is gonna be long so im putting a lil read more

abbacchio:

did not go through a goth phase in high school but did in like cop school idk

literally only listens to classical or slower music but he will not admit that (evanescance included)

transmasc and gay

wears a wig to hide his awkward hair length but its an anime cosplay wig for sephiroth from FF7

loves getting his head rubbed but if u touch his head w/o permission he will murder u

has to wear smudge proof lipstick for reasons

did not get top surgery and doesnt have chest dysphoria

he painted the back of his phone black w nail polish

would paint his nails but it chips off too quickly

his shirt has shoulderpads in it bc he likes them

his hat/headband is to hide his roots that arent dyed

his natural hair color is a dark brown/black

does not care that he is 6 ft 2 he is the little spoon

loves action and mystery/suspense movies

giorno:

this kid does not understand his gender one bit but uses he, they, and fae pronouns; demiromantic ace

this kid would have a zoo in his room if allowed to

custom made his outfit

would love to work in a library or something if his goal wasnt being a gang⭐star

really likes anytime where the gang is just kinda quiet and relaxing

has a lot of weird hobbies that he doesnt really disclose w anyone

takes a really long time to open up to anyone but after the events of VA, he opens up to people, starting with Bruno, then Trish, and ending w Abbacchio

has a gameboy color and will occasionally play it w narancia at lunch

has a really warm quilt in their room

doesnt like to be alone and will sometimes just will come hang out w someone or make a living creature out of something to have company

wears jeans sometimes

did dye his hair blonde and he and Abba have little hair dyeing days

doesnt really care about what was going on w dio because he has his new little family now

will get a fresh vase of flowers for the kitchen table when he goes for walks really early

prefers old books over new ones bc the smell is comforting to him

lights candles in his room (prob likes the faint floral scents)

reads a mix of biographies and whodunnits

treasures this little yellow rabbit plush that Trish won for him at a group outing to the carnival

after a lot of time, really finds that fae can get along w any ppl in the group although shit w abba is still strained

i think mista helps him kinda relax a bit and they become really good friends after the events of VA finally calm down a bit

he definitely sees bruno as his dad

mista:

transmasc and bi

kinda went over this before but i think he has a big dog w three legs and he cares about her sm

his room is like kinda clean messy? like i dont think hed make his bed but its not covered in filth

has a whole closet of weird shoes that are all plenty roomy for either guns or bullets to go into at any time

diyed his pants (manga only) w a stapler and plenty of prayers bc his jeans had become too short (we do not ask where he got the red material)

watches only romcoms

wears his hat bc his hair is at the awkward stage between shaved and semi normal length but also bc carrying around his bullets is most convenient like this

leaves a lot of blankets around the house bc he gets warm under them quickly

likes playing board games but is a sore loser

can and will injure himself in the stupidest ways (canon)

gets a bit too distracted to drive or get his license

has a lot of stuff on his walls, like posters or even photos w the group

refuses to wear full length shirts literally ever

#asks #sorry this is a big fucking jumbled mess <3 #everyone lives in my head so ignore any dead bitches <3 #also this is me romanticizing the mafia and making them have a calm life ok #also also giorno is my son and fave jojo so i have a lot for him #and em only u know the dlc for the mista hcs that i will never share; taking this to my grave <3

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inchestothefloor · 4 years ago

Text

some taywhora hcs for no reason at all

the accuracy of these is debatable but we move😎

- tayce always makes a big mess of her room when she’s getting ready

- a’whora goes round after her cleaning it all up bc she’s the only one familiar enough with all of tayce’s stuff to know where it all goes

- they’re both terrible chefs, but it usually falls upon tayce to make anything that requires a bit more skill than opening a tin

- she ropes a’whora in to be her sous chef every time bc ‘even you can follow instructions’

- except she really can’t and they always end up scrapping the whole thing anyway

- a’whora tends to have the best taste in tv shows, and tayce will watch almost any genre

- so a’whora is always the one picking their next binge watch

- except for when tayce wants to watch a horror film, bc a’whora isn’t a fan at all

- however she does enjoy slashers, which ironically are the only ones tayce flat out refuses to watch

- a’whora has a fucking cast iron stomach, literally nothing gory or gross really phases her at all

- she’s the one who catches the spiders and ignores tayce telling her to let them go instead of killing them

- a’whora hates it when tayce goes to do the weekly shop alone

- bc tayce never pays attention to what they actually need, so she comes back with little moons and the newest flavour of gin but they haven’t actually had a loaf of bread in a week

- a’whora tries to write a list, but she always accidentally throws it away before she has the chance to give it to tayce

- tayce gets up at the crack of dawn every day and still manages to look fresh as a daisy

- a’whora can sleep for england, and cancels any plans before 11am

- tayce spends all the money on plants

- every time a’whora comes home there’s a new plant somewhere in the house

- ‘don’t look at me! she looked like she needed a nice stable loving home, and who was i to deny her?’

- a’whora rolls her eyes and tries to be annoyed, but tayce could burn the house down and she’d still be swooning

- tayce has the most unreal music taste ever

- it’s a really broad range of stuff and she has the perfect playlist for every situation ever

- a’whora listens exclusively to teen pop and demands little mix and/or the saturdays on every playlist tayce makes

- tayce protests but secretly she knows that shit slaps

- tayce is also the most motivated person ever

- she’s always got all her work done before a’whora has even thought about looking at hers

- a’whora always gets it done, but prefers to pull an all nighter the day before it’s due

- tayce stays up with her for moral support and is more than happy to furnish her with percy pigs at quarter to three on a wednesday night

- but if tayce is struggling with her work, she needs a’whora’s original recipe pot noodle sandwiches to get her through it bc she has a habit of giving up too quickly

- tayce has a major floating rock mentality and it baffles a’whora every time

- a’whora knows tayce’s phone password purely bc tayce forgets it too often

- a’whora guards her own password with her life for no particular reason - she has no reservations about leaving tayce with her unlocked phone

- a’whora is always stealing tayce’s expensive hair oils and she thinks she doesn’t notice (she does)

- half of the face masks tayce does are a’whora’s, partly as revenge but partly because for all the money tayce spends on her hair, a’whora spends double that on her skincare, so it’s always really good shit

- a’whora is a coffee person; tayce drinks herbal tea

- ‘london is going to your head, you hound’

- talking ab up north/wales a lot bc it really is like a different world to london

#taywhora

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mouseonvenus-main · 4 years ago

Text

Minecraft AU or whatever

(Sorry long post ahead) Nobody can stop me from combining my two biggest interests so here’s headcanons for if all the Nekoma boys played minecraft

Inuoka is obsessed with bees, collects every flower he sees and brings them back to the hive that's always by his house. Legitimately super good at building, his base is always the biggest and the grandest. His storage is always a mess though, he just puts all his chests in a shed and makes new ones when he needs them, there's no system. Gets really sad whenever he kills an Enderman, has a small garden filled with nothing but grass blocks that they've dropped

Lev prefers Creative Mode and refuses to play Survival without cheats and Keep Inventory. He has a sign outside his house that says "It's not a dirt house, it's a dirt home." Tames every horse he sees even if he doesn't have a saddle, is very invested in creating the most efficient cow crusher. He listens to all the music discs religiously, Cat and Blocks are tied for his favorite. Found diamonds once and got so excited that he accidentally jumped into a lava pit almost immediately after. Absolutely terrified of silverfish and is unironically trying to learn the enchantment table language

Teshiro owns the most cats anyone's ever seen in one place, but he just keeps breeding them. Only just started playing recently but is insanely good at parkour. Watches mcyts and drops everything to go mining when he finds a good cave. Doesn't fear anything, shoots at Ghasts from really far away just for fun

Shibayama is a true Minecraft vet, has probably played for longer than everybody except maybe Kenma. His skin is a character that he made in like 2011 and refuses to change it. He knows every song and all their names, not just the music discs but the songs that play in the background. He turns the volume way up when Sweden or Wet Hands comes on and is always inevitably scared half to death by the cave ambience noises. Really good at PVP but freezes up when he has to fight a creeper

Kuroo is not "good" at the game by any means, he played it all the time with Kenma when he was introduced to it but somehow hasn’t picked up any of the skills. He likes to watch other people play it and has never beaten it without somebody else (probably Kenma) doing most of the work. He has a crazy amount of dogs for someone who runs away from Skeletons. But the nerd is a part of the endangered population of potion masters, he knows like every recipe and has the "A Furious Cocktail" achievement (even though he's terrified specifically of the Elder Guardian)

Kai has only beaten the game by himself once and he sat through the entire "end credits." Dedicates himself to increasingly impressive farm/garden designs but doesn't bother with huge houses. Chronically addicted to campfires and lanterns, the people he plays with have to hide their torches. He's also really good at redstone and his contraptions confuse and amaze me. He is always willing to share his supplies (unless he doesn’t have enough for himself, then he’ll challenge the person to fair duel for them) and he always partners up with/spares people doing the crouching thing in PVP. Really likes Iron Golems and builds one for any village he finds that doesn’t have one

Yaku makes his career in failed speedruns and surprisingly good build designs. The huge amount of achievements he has is suspect at best (Kuroo is half convinced he paid Kenma to get half of them for him). He is the unofficial defender of Drowneds, Strays and Husks and has a deep respect for Baby Zombies. He blows up his friends' houses for fun (Lev is his main target) but will start a war if anybody else does it to them. Cried when the Moobloom didn’t win the 2020 Mob Vote

Kenma doesn't even need an explanation, we all know that he's been playing since Java Edition and definitely has more merch than he knows what to do with (I like to think he has at least three creeper onesies). He would be one of the best speedrunners out there if he didn't despise the Nether. He has his own Manhunts and his rages are the worst for this game, he's probably broken a few controllers because he fell in lava. Once beat the Ender Dragon with a diamond hoe

Yamamoto wouldn't even be playing the game if it weren't for his mcyt phase in like 2014 (he would have been crazy for PopularMMOs, prove me wrong), probably used to pretend that he didn't so that he could look "cool." Participates in the said Manhunts for the sole purpose of beating Kenma (and he probably has at least once). Went insane when the Nether Update came out, has since been trying to live there permanently. Jumps off buildings and down ravines even though he can't do the water bucket trick and is convinced that he can shoot an Enderman if he tries hard enough

Fukunaga is an unprofessional chicken farmer. Has the skills to beat Kenma in a 1v1 but prefers to spend his time collecting every dye in the game for his sheep army. Shockingly good with a bow and arrow but doesn't understand how to use crossbows. Doesn't scare very easily but he likes to go in places where people can't see him and shoots them once before leaving. He's not very good at building but he's dedicated to The Craft so he watches tutorials to make his farms look nice. Could kill the Ender Dragon at a moment's notice but he refuses to out of respect

Thank you for your time

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