#i thought it was a puka shell necklace that was so fucked up

[cocksley-and-catapult]

outfits 🤯

[artdcnaldson]

bsf!artrick saving you from creeps! going to a party or club with them and this one guy won't stop staring and following you. he starts getting closer and trying to talk to you, touching you.

if you're more of the conflict avoidant type, patrick would have to swoop in and save you. putting an arm around your waist and pulling you in close. asking, "what's wrong honey?" and he just slips into the role of your boyfriend so easily that the creep has no choice but to believe you're taken. maybe keeping up the charade for the rest of the night "just in case he's still watching"

i imagine running up to art, looking behind your shoulder warily because some asshole keeps following you. you're like "kiss me" art thinks he heard you wrong but he's blushing. you're like "hurry he's coming, i need you to trust me! just kiss me!". you're practically begging him and when he finally does kiss you, you can't stop. you're not even sure if the guy is still there, but now it just looks like you and art are making out in the corner of this party.

i hate white knight bullshit from a feminist perspective but sometimes i would really like to watch art/patrick punch a guy for touching me and then i can clean up and take care of their bruised knuckles and wipe at their bloody nose and chastely kiss their split lip...

MMMMMMMM yummy <3

Patrick is the type to take the first swing at a guy who’s been messing with you. He sees the asshole in a stupid fucking hollister polo and puka shell necklace reach under your skirt and grab your ass and he decks him without a second thought. Follows him down onto the sticky dance floor and punches him again and again, until Art has to pull him off. Patrick walks away with bloody and bruised knuckles that you ice back at your apartment. You call him stupid for punching that guy for you, because now he’s going to lose at least a few days of tennis while his hand recovers. But he’d do it again, if it lost him a week, a month, years of tennis. He tells himself he’s just being a good friend, because he doesn’t know if he can face the reality of loving you more than tennis. That’s never happened before.

And then there’s Art. Art Donaldson, who takes the first few punches after he yells at the douchebag who won’t leave you the fuck alone at the bar while you’re waiting for your drink. He starts off tame, just politely reminding the guy you aren’t interested, which escalates into a yelling match, and soon Art’s slumped against the bar with blood pouring from his nose, holding the impact zone on his cheek that’ll be a shiner by the morning. When the guy comes to get another blow in, you pull out your pepper spray and unleash chemical warfare on him, which gets you and Art a one way ticket out of the bar. Art finds it amusing that you ended up saving him from getting his ass kicked even worse, but he’s mortified that he couldn’t even win a fight for you. But then you’re sitting in his lap, holding ice to his cheek and combing bloody mats out of his pretty curls, your face so close to his that he could kiss you… and he doesn’t think it’s so bad.

[gretagerwigsmuse]

Girlie I'm not trying to pressurise you or demand anything but could you please provide an update to Rocketman 👉👈

hahaha nah it’s fine, in fact a little pressure might be good 😉 i have all the big scenes down, i just have to connect some parts and one in particular has me stuck :/

i’m glad you’re still excited about them though! i know with my posting schedule being so…prolonged it’s a risk people still won’t be as interested, so this made me really happy and excited! here’s a cute/silly little scene below!

—————

“What’re you ladies gossiping about?” Amelia breezed onto the patio and messed up Bradley’s hair before she plopped down on the sofa beside him. Naturally, he in turn had to elbow her in the side. Not hard, mind you, but hard enough for her to kick him back.

“We were actually just talking about the dance coming up Friday,” Maverick replied smoothly and Bradley stifled a snort. Since when had Maverick become such a good liar? Regardless, Amelia preened. “I was just about to tell Bradley about your date…”

“What?!” Bradley exclaimed.

Amelia pouted, clearly put off that it had been brought up in front of him. He liked Amelia, he was protective of her, fucking shoot him. “Mav likes him!”

Maverick slightly cowed under Bradley and Amelia’s stares. “He’s nice, they’re on the debate team together.”

“Debate team?!” Alright, now he was putting it on a little bit, but as someone who had also been on the debate team in high school, Bradley knew that those guys were also smart, which generally meant they were way more trouble than the typical jocks.

Clearly misconstruing his comment, Amelia frowned. “Sorry, I know you were rocking the middle part and puka shell necklace when you were on the debate team, but it’s cool now…”

“Puka shell necklace?” your voice chimed in from the doorway. “Pete never mentioned that when he was telling me of your high school heroics.”

Bradley’s cheeks colored. “Yeah, well, it was the late 90s and I thought Pacey Witter was cool.”

“The 1990s!” Amelia feigned hysterics and got a chuckle out of you and Maverick. “Next you’re going to be talking about where you were on 9/11 -”

“I was in kindergarten, we couldn’t go outside for recess,” you teased.

You sat yourself between him and Amelia on the sofa and Bradley threw his arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer. He knew you’d get cold soon, but didn’t want you to run inside to get a sweatshirt just yet - least it would be Maverick's.

Amelia groaned, but still turned her attention back on you. “You were definitely a Joey Potter, breaking hearts left and right. No debate captains for you.” She stuck her tongue out at Bradley for good measure.

“Ha, I wish. No, I was actually kind of lame in high school, very angsty.” Bradley knew why, but Mav and the Benjamins were still in the dark.

🤭👀

[mlobsters]

supernatural s8e22 clip show (w. andrew dabb)

bro, dude from the wendigo episode? *looks at episode title* oh right. little puka shell necklace and i recall a satphone?

from s1e2 wendigo HALEY He checks in every day by cell. He emails, photos, stupid little videos—we haven't heard anything in over three days now. SAM Well, maybe he can't get cell reception. HALEY He's got a satellite phone, too.

pat on the brain for that one, i remember the important stuff :p

so is someone gonna go through and knock off people the winchesters saved, via mind splats

why is dean grumpy with cas again? aghh. taking off with the tablet? hopefully they'll fight and fill me in :p

CASTIEL Dean. I'm sorry. DEAN For what? CASTIEL For everything. DEAN Everything? Like, uh... Like ignoring us? CASTIEL Yes. DEAN Or like bolting off with the Angel Tablet, then losing it 'cause you didn't trust me? You didn't trust me. CASTIEL Yes. DEAN Yeah. Nah, that's not gonna cut it. Not this time. So you can take your little apology and you cram it up your ass.

s7e21 reading is fundamental

you can stuff your sorries in a sack, mister

CASTIEL Dean, I thought I was doing the right thing. DEAN Yeah, you always do.

seriously, dude. they all fuck up while thinking they're doing the right thing, but he does it on such a grand scale. wipes out a ton of humans and angels being god for a hot minute, what even was the body count related to the leviathans getting out. whew. at least with ruby sam had the powers of heaven and hell conspiring to make it go down the way it did

SAM Dude, go easy on Cas, okay. He's one of the good guys. DEAN Dude, if anybody else – I mean anybody – pulled that kind of crap, I would stab them in their neck on principle. Why should I give him a free pass? SAM Because it's Cas.

this really makes me laugh because i've struggled with cas on this show a lot! they're always trying to convince me that he's all tight with dean but they never show it! haha anyway. nothing needs to make sense, he's paving the way to hell with good intentions and the fan fave

oh, the dungeon, lol i have also heard about this place

goober

they got abaddon from that? i thought it was pete from mad men

SAM Hey, those chains look exactly like the ones in our dungeon. CASTIEL In your what? DEAN Demon on a leash – cool.

lol. dean is being such a child. sam, tell the angel that i'm not talking to him

yeah he does

this scene with him coughing up blood again, just reminds me of how i was always vaguely confused as to how the trials made him sick because it seemed like a set of strange issues. it wasn't clear in what i read always if time in the bathroom was from stomach thing or coughing up blood thing. but i see now the food/nausea elements combined with the consumption. i mean. does he have heavenly tuberculosis?

DEAN Well, short story is, uh, Sammy there is gonna take whatever shredded your friend and every other black-eyed bitch out there, and he's gonna get rid of them for good. FATHER SIMON He is? In his condition? DEAN Father, over the past couple of months, I've seen him do crap that I didn't even think was possible. I mean, sure, he's miserable and he's hurting, but you know what? There's not a doubt in my mind that he's gonna cross that finish line – not one. So, will you help us?

oh, dean. well, i appreciate them letting us hear dean be so proud and faithful. journey from the "the only person who doesn't let me down is benny" moment

i often feel similarly. this attempt at shopping and him being clueless and awful is something

seeing cas interact with metatron kind of highlights to me how particular of a character they're having cas portray. it's not like all angels have this quite flat affect and clueless about humans thing.. and cas didn't always either (he was really bitingly snarky there for bits which doesn't really line up with whatever lack of abilities in pretending to be a person thing is happening now) but after all the brain scrubs who has room for personality retention, right?

it gives me derek from teen wolf vibes. he had a purpose in the early days, then he was a fan fave and part of a big ship and they kept him around and seems like they had no idea what to do with his character. it was weird. this is weird

so how does castiel not know metatron? i thought all the angels were siblings. and is megatron about to talk cas into another extremely bad idea?

METATRON Is that what she told you? I mean, Naomi's a player – don't get me wrong – just one of many. There are factions upon factions, all fighting, betraying each other. It's just a matter of time before they start ripping each other apart. It's all broken. CASTIEL I know, I'm the one who broke it. There was a time when I thought I could lead our people, but I was mistaken. I spilled so much blood. And I've tried to atone for my sins and I did penance. And I [sighs] betrayed my friends to protect our secrets, but I've just failed. And now – METATRON Look, I know. But now the angels – heaven – need someone to come to the rescue. They need us.

this is what i get for zoning out during heavenly politics scenes

FATHER THOMPSON The date is August 3, 1958. This is trial 19, hour 1. My subject is Peter Kent. Mr. Kent is the father of two young sons, and three weeks ago, he was possessed by a demon. I'm going to ask you a question now. When you crawled into Mr. Kent and ate his children, how did it feel? PETER KENT Orgasmic.

okay.

whole cas and metatron angel trials closing the gates of heaven okay i don't even know

looks real disgusted for sure

that's a good look on her

SAM How'd you get this number? Crowley Ah, first things first – what are you wearing? DEAN Oh, okay, hanging up now. Hang up. Crowley Fine. This isn't a social call.

leaving abaddon unattended, great idea guys.

wheezed at the size of the print

😂 ok

CROWLEY Oh, Moosie, isn't it obvious? I'm killing everyone you've ever saved – the damsels in distress, the innocent whippersnappers, the would-be vampire chow – all of them.

baby sam (and the cute hair) and a lady he kissed that didn't die, will she get by twice?

SAM That's new. SARAH Yeah, I... His name is Ian. He works search and rescue. Guess I have a type. Our daughter, Bess – she'll be one in a month. SAM That's, uh, great. I mean it. I'm really, uh... I'm really happy for you.

shame dean-o can't give you kids

SAM Me? Pretty much the same, I guess. SARAH No, you're not. You're not the same. Look, it's been years, and I can't even imagine the things you've been through. But I don't know. You just seem...more focused, confident, like... ...like you know what you want. You grew up, Sam. SARAH I do miss the old haircut, though.

very sweet

CROWLEY I thought of sending in a few of my bruisers, really letting them go to town. But then, well, trial one was kill a Hellhound. Trial two was rescue a soul from the pit. So, from here on, I'm gonna keep everything hell-related – demons, et cetera – away from you. Safe side and all that – plus, I just thought it seemed fitting. From what I understand, Sammy took that bird's breath away. What's the line? "Saving people, hunting things – the family business." Well, I think the people you save, they're how you justify your pathetic little lives. The alcoholism, the collateral damage, the pain you've caused – the one thing that allows you to sleep at night, the one thing is knowing that these folks are out there, still out there happy and healthy because of you, you great, big, bloody heroes!

the supernatural books allowing this to get more meta. liked how they did his speechifying intercut with them searching but kept that all soundless.

rip sarah, thought maybe having a 1 year old baby would save you

all right i think i know the general endpoint of this storyline but no idea how we get there from here. we'll see tomorrow. blaming dabb for not being able to shut up about this episode

[sapphicscholar]

Day 2: Favorite Minor Character

I know this in’t necessarily a popular answer, but Marcus! (I realize he could be thought of as a main character, but I think of Hacks as a dyad-driven show, leaving him in a murky middle ground)

We meet Marcus right when things with Deborah’s residency are going to shit and so much of the world he's built his life on is being pulled out from under him. He's been working for Deborah since he was 18, which I think gets glossed over a lot in some of the moments where it's easy to be annoyed at Marcus. 18 is so young! When he started, he was just this bright-eyed gay kid who drove his mom's car all the way to DC to see his campy, diva comedy idol perform, and I'd honestly love for us to catch more glimpses of that Marcus. 

In season one, when Marcus is the one saying no to the new act, I think it's all too easy to read him as the party pooper who doesn't *get* Deborah or respect the art of her comedy. Instead, he's out there reminding her that the old act works and saying, hey, you've still got commitments to QVC that you can't just blow off. And honestly? In a business empire? Someone's gotta do that. That Cheesecake Factory water bill won't pay itself! 

But he’s still that kid that gave up his entire adulthood to work for someone who he admired first and foremost as a comic. 

And he’s still the person/partner who's gone on every other "retreat" with Deborah--often enough that she knows his favorite souvenirs to bring home; often enough that he’s deeply hurt by her decision to abandon him in Vegas.

So to me, it's not that the Marcus we meet in season 1 doesn't care about Deborah as a complex person or a comic; it's that he's being actively shut out of those conversations about her changing wants. 

We see the way Ava draws Deborah out of her shell throughout the season (in large part through sheer determination and brash assholery), but we also kinda get that it's not exactly model employee behavior. (It's why they're so fun to ship because at no point does it really seem like Ava's gunning for employee of the year so much as she's gunning for a spot in the inner circle and the intimacy that comes with both fighting and confiding.) But as I’ve said before, I think Deborah's own wants and desires were, for a long time, not particularly self-evident, even to her, and as the performance of Deborah Vance(TM) grew more and more calcified, she became more and more unknowable to Marcus and the other people in her life. So he might not be giving her what she wants now, but he definitely thinks he’s ensuring she has what she needs. 

He’s definitely not perfect (thank god for it), but he cares deeply for Deborah (even loves her), and we’re finding him at the exact moment he’s confronting the possibility that everything he’s worked his entire adult life to build for Deborah might be the first thing she’ll choose to topple. It’s just such an interesting place of immanent-crisis to find someone! 

Anyway, my dreams for S2 are to see the return of the enthusiasm double-puka-shell-necklace-wearing baby gay Marcus brought to Deborah’s DC show as they take this new one on the road. After all, what kinds of memories will this second tour bring up for him and Deborah? What sorts of reconciliations and conversations might it prompt? (And, apparently, we’re also getting bulldog-harness-wearing Marcus trying to find himself out on the road, which, honestly, I’m fucking here for that, too.)

[sunflowergirl522]

You Need To Remember 3

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Your best friend Peter gets sucked into a different reality in front of you and you use your power to go after him. You find yourself in a new reality but you don’t remember how you got there.

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 1681

Masterlist Previous Part

When Peter had hit the back of Monica’s head to knock her out you gasp. What was going on?

“Peter! What are you doing?”

“What I should’ve done before hun.” And then you’re greeted with darkness. 

When you wake up you’re in some sort of attic with a headache in the back of your head where you were hit. Monica’s yelling for Wanda and banging on the window while Peter sits on the couch with a guitar. You’re laid on a recliner in a corner of the room and sit up and grimace at the heart beat in your head.

“Don’t waste your breath babe. No one can hear you from in here.” Monica turns around to look at Peter and glances at you when he calls her babe. You just shrug at her not knowing what was going on as Peter starts to play the guitar. Peter’s never touched a guitar in his life. How did he know now? He strums something dramatic and makes a face at Monica as she looks between the door and him. She tries to run and you know that that’s a bad idea before she even does it. It seems like she’s forgetting about his super speed. He beats her there, getting in her way, and flicks her back.

“Shit, Monica!” You rush to her side to help her into a sitting position and make sure she’s okay. You help her over to the recliner that you were just on while Peter goes to make a smoothie or something. “What is wrong with you? Why would you do that?”

“Can’t have the two of you messing everything up for the missus.”

“What is this stuff?” Monica asks in what seems to be disgust and you try to figure out what he was talking about. Who’s the missus?

“This is my man-cave.”

“Man-cave?” Your eyebrows scrunch together, not once has Peter ever used the term man-cave.

“A place to chillax, you know, while the missus is turning up trouble.”

“What the fuck?” You mutter to yourself as Peter walks over to the tv and Monica rifles through the papers on the stand next to her.

“You a fan of Steven Seagal?” When he doesn’t get a response he frowns and keeps doing whatever it is he’s doing.

“Agnes doesn’t live here.” You turn to Monica to see her staring down at a piece of paper and lean on the recliner to look over her shoulder. She’s holding a picture of what seems to be Peter with brown hair and a different name typed underneath it. “You do.” Her mouth is wide with shock as she looks up at the boy who fumbles with something. “You’re Ralph Bohner?” She sounds just so confused and you have to admit you are to but you can’t help but also find yourself amused.

“Boner.” Peter chuckles and you giggle a bit at it too. Monica shoots you a look and you shrug at her in response as you cover your mouth. It’s a ridiculous name and you’ve always been as immature as Peter.

“How is she controlling you?” Monica gets up as she asks.

“You wanna tussle again?” Peter gets into a fake fighting stance and bounces around. Monica catches him by surprise and flips him over her shoulder and pins him to the ground. “Meow. She’s feisty.” You ignore how much him flirting with Monica hurts you considering he’s probably under some control. As soon as Monica rips the ugly puka shell necklace from Peter’s neck his face morphs into a scared look. “Please, spare my life!”

“Nice to meet you Ralph.” Monica gets off of him then and you teleport to stand in front of the window behind his head. 

“Huh?” He goes to lean up on his elbows and you step closer to lean over his body. Sensing you, he looks up and relief floods through his features.

“Yeah nice to meet you.”

“Y/n!” He uses his speed to stand in front of you. “Are you okay? God I didn’t hurt you too bad did I?” His hand goes to the back of your head to feel for a bump.

“I’m alright Peter, don’t you dare start apologizing because I know you won’t stop. What happened anyway? One minute you’re about to help Wanda and the next you’re knocking us out.”

“I don’t know I guess when I was me for that short bit she was distracted but I was snapped back into her control when I got closer to the house.” He turns to point at Monica. “Good job with the necklace though, I didn’t even know.”

“I could see her energy.” Monica shrugs before tossing it over her shoulder. “We should go help Wanda.” 

“We’ll catch up.” Monica nods at you before running out the door. “What is this about?” You hold up the picture for Peter to see.

“When I ended up on the other side of the portal none of this shit was going on. It must’ve been just before it so I found a picture of some dude who looked enough like me to pass and made up an alias.”

“And you chose Ralph Bohner?” One of your eyebrows quirk up and a small smile forms on your lips.

“Alright so I saw it on a gravestone when I ran through the neighborhood to figure out where I was and thought it was funny.”

“It is pretty funny, I’ll give you that. It’s definitely a name I can see you picking. I’m really glad you’re alright Pete, I was so worried when you disappeared.”

“I was pretty worried too. I didn’t know if I was ever gonna see you again.” Peter steps closer to you and caresses the side of your face. The two of you stare at each other for a minute before you clear your throat.

“We should probably go.”

“Yeah.” Peter holds onto the back of your neck and the two of you make it to the town square just in time to see a funnel cake truck smash into a SWORD car. A robotic looking man comes out of the library and the twins run to him yelling dad. “That’s Vision, shame you never got to meet him.” You and Peter stay behind a building so that Agatha doesn’t see the two of you. The two of you watch as the two witches fly up and start to fight in the sky.

“Oh shit!” You both exclaim together as Agatha seems to drain Wanda completely of her power. Peter zips off and comes back with some popcorn offering the bucket out to you. You take a handful as you watch as Wanda takes all of her power back and transforms. 

“Damn, she looks good! It’s a good thing I’m so into you Pete because otherwise I’d be hitting on your not really sister.” 

“You’re into me?” You don’t even realize what you just said until his words feel your ears.

“Um, well yeah, have been for a while now.” You might as well let him know, maybe if he freaks out you can get Wanda to erase his memory or something.

“Good, I’m pretty into you too.” He just shoves another handful of popcorn in his mouth and keeps watching the moment in front of the two of you and it suddenly starts to turn to night as Wanda and her family walk away. When the both of you walk over to Monica it’s completely dark and the walls of the world are shrinking. 

“Is that popcorn?” Monica asks the two of you pointing at the bucket and you nod at her with a small smile. The wall of the world goes past the three of you causing it to be day again.

“It’s not often we get to watch the fights.” You shrug and Peter takes your hand in his own after zipping over to throw the bucket away. “We’re normally almost dying in them.”

Wanda walks into the town square again and all of the townspeople stop to stare at her as she walks up to the three of you. Monica's attention goes to her and she takes a few steps to meet up with Wanda.

“They’ll never know what you sacrificed for them.”

“It wouldn’t change how they see me. And you, you don’t, you don’t hate me?”

“Given the chance and given your power, I’d bring my mom back. I know I would.”

“I’m sorry. For all the pain I caused.” You look over at Peter to see concern on his face and you can tell that he just wants to wrap his arms around this Wanda and console her. He had lost his twin in your own reality and you know how hard this must be for him. You squeeze his hand to remind him you’re here and a small smile appears on his face.

“I know.”

“I don’t understand this power. But I will.” It’s then that Wanda’s attention goes to the two of you. Peter smiles at her and does a little wave and she walks up to the two of you. “So who are you, then?”

“Uh, I’m Peter, Peter Maximoff. Weird, I know right.” He does an awkward laugh and rubs the back of his neck with his free hand and you decide to come to his rescue.

“We’re from a different reality, if that helps at all. He was plucked out of ours and put here I think to get to you, we aren’t completely sure though.”

“Huh, nice to meet the two of you.” Sirens start to get close then and Wanda starts to walk away before turning to face you three. “Goodbye Monica, Peter.” She nods at Peter in acknowledgement.

“Bye, Wanda.” Monica says before Wanda flies away. “Good luck.” As cops start to swarm around you, you turn to Peter.

“Let's go home.” You do what you did to get here and use your strength to open a portal to your own reality and Peter pulls you through before it can snap shut.

Peter Taglist: @amourtentiaa​ @simpforquicksilver​ @parkersdarling @loveyou3000-mcu

[sunsetcurbed]

you showed me faith is not blind (miracles happen)

Pairing: Alex/Willie Words: 3,416  Rating: T  Warnings: none  Chapter: 1/11 read on AO3

Summary: “I don’t suppose you’ve heard of Frederick Alexander Louis Mercer?” his grandmother asks with a deep frown, crossing her ankle behind her other foot carefully. He frowns. Here’s that pub trivia he doesn’t know. “No, I can’t say I have.” “Frederick was Beasiga’s crown prince,” she tells him with a meaningful look, which he doesn’t understand. She leans forward. “And Frederick was your father.” Alex’s mind blanks. “That’s… okay,” he says, bobbing his head in a quick nod as he presses his lips together and bites the insides of them, trying to will some thoughts back into his mind. “I don’t think—I’m not sure you’re quite right on that. Because if you were, then—“ “Then you would be Alexander Charles Taylor Mercer, Prince of Beasiga.”

(*)

(or: the willex princess diaries au that no one asked for but I wrote anyways)

(1)

1 e and a 2 e and a—

"On the edge of great, on the edge of great, on the edge of great," Alex sings into the microphone, listening to the rest of his band around him and hearing the audience of their music class as he performs his midterm with his band. On one hand he's thankful that the four of them only have to perform once for all of their grades instead of four separate performances—less opportunities to mess up. However, on the other hand, he's bummed about it because it means they only get to play in front of their class once rather than four times. Performing music for a live audience is like nothing else—even if it's an audience as simple as a group of thirty high school students. The music their band makes is undeniable, so even while listening to performances is routine in this class, most of the students still end up getting into their music and dancing along.

Alex drums and sings along and watches Julie from behind as she belts out her high note at the beginning of the final chorus. He can't keep the grin off his face as he sees various students dancing in their seats to the song. He makes eye contact with a few and even sends one of them a wink, just as he hits his last cymbal before Julie and Luke go into their duet over the piano. He looks towards his two band mates and friends and smirks at them being just a little too close for a midterm performance, but—glancing at Mrs. Harrison—the teacher doesn't seem to mind, so. The two of them finish and all four of them stand and take a bow, and Alex lets the cheers and clapping wash over him.

"Very impressive," Mrs. Harrison compliments. "Who composed the song?"

"Julie and I wrote the lyrics, all four of us worked on the melody and harmonies, and each of us worked on our individual instrument to compose our piece," Luke answers readily.

"It was very well done," she nods at each of them in turn. "I'm sure you'll be very pleased with your grade. You all may take your seats."

Alex follows behind Reggie to their group of four seats in the back of the music class room, nodding at a few of his class mates as he goes when they offer him praise. When they get back to their seats Mrs. Harrison calls for the classes attention and then next performance goes, and then Flynn goes next, and then music is over for the day.

"We nailed that," Luke bursts as soon as the bell rings to end class.

"Luke, what was that riff at the end of the bridge?" Reggie asks with wide eyes. "It was killer."

"You think so?" Luke asks, bouncing on the balls of his toes. "I didn't mean to improv but it came to me and it sounded so good in my head so I just—"

"Luke," Julie smiles softly, placing a hand on his upper arm, "don't worry. It was incredible. You were right to add it in."

Luke looks between the other three band members and bites his lip. "Yeah?"

Alex laughs. "Yeah, buddy."

"Awesome," he grins, swinging his backpack up onto his shoulder and hopping towards the door. "And now—that's three midterms down and only two to go."

Alex groans. "I only have one left."

Reggie frowns. "Why are you more upset about that then Luke is about two?"

Alex sends a look at Reggie. "It's public speaking."

"Oh no," Julie murmurs from next to him, reaching up to rub a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You'll be okay. Just imagine you're sitting behind your drums."

"Yeah, that's never worked."

"Imagine you're on stage with us," Luke says from Julie's other side, tossing his arm around Julie's shoulder and leaning in her space so far that he's nearly in Alex's space as well.

"That's also never worked."

They reach the cafeteria then and their conversation falls away as they make their way through the lunch line. Alex grabs only an orange, because if he's going to be giving a speech in the next two hours, he doesn't want to give his stomach much ammunition.

They make their way to the back table of the cafeteria where Flynn, Willie, and two of Willie's skateboarder friends, Greg and Shawn, are waiting for them. Alex can count the amount of words he's said to Greg and Shawn over the past two years on both his hands, but they shared Willie nicely, so that was enough for him.

See, Alex had met Willie in elementary school at recess—it had to be at recess because Willie was a grade above him. Alex remembers Willie doing cool tricks on all the playground equipment—flipping off the benches, pin wheeling on the bars, jumping off the parallel bars—exciting things like that. He'd always had Alex's attention. And then in fourth grade Alex jumped off the swing really far (he'd never admit it was on accident). Obviously this started a jumping contest off the swings and the only one who bested him had been Willie, who came over and introduced himself after the recess aides stopped the competition. At the time, Alex didn't know what he was feeling when Willie smiled at him. He'd been told crushes were for girls, so he didn't realize that his crush was on a boy. Over time he'd learn though, and over time it'd develop.

It wouldn't progress much further though until Willie was in tenth grade and Alex was in ninth, both of them at high school. It was Alex's second week at high school and he lost rock, paper, scissors to Luke and had to go up to the concession stand at the beach to get everyone their hot dogs. On his way back to the group, however, Willie skated right into him. After lengthy apologies, Willie took him back to the concession stand and bought him new hot dogs in apology, plus an extra one, and joined them. That day would cement Alex's helpless crush on Willie which—

Has not gone away now that they're half way through fall term in Alex's junior year of high school.

Ask him how he's doing.

"Hey, hot dog!"

(He's doing great.)

"Hey, puka," Alex rolls his eyes back, eying the puka shell necklace around Willie's throat. Willie grins wide at him, bouncing his eyebrows up and down. Alex moves to take his seat next to Willie.

Willie takes a bite of his sandwich and looks at the group. "How'd your music midterm go?"

"So well they left me there," Flynn huffs from where she's picking her lunch out of her lunch box. "I had to put my trumpet away and by the time I was done they were gone!"

"You know what Luke is like after a performance," Julie apologizes to her friend. "I couldn't keep him still if I tried."

"It's for that reason and only that reason that you're forgiven," Flynn says.

"Our midterm was amazing though," Luke jumps in as soon as Flynn finishes speaking. He looks up to the ceiling and shakes his head. "Man, I wish you were in the music program so you could have seen it—but we'll play it for a gig soon, so I guess you didn't miss too much—"

"We did kill it though," Reggie leans forward, around Alex, to see Willie. "So you can be sad about missing that."

"Consider me sad, then," Willie says. "Flynn, how did you do?"

Flynn answers, and the rest of the table is quiet, giving Alex a moment to let his mind wander. Next period is his public speaking class, and his final midterm. His biology midterm had been yesterday, so after public speaking he's technically free to go—well…

Not actually. He's got an obligation after school today, but. He's not exactly sure how he feels about it.

He doesn't need to think about that now, though, because the rest of lunch passes with various conversations ranging from the start of new songs ("where's my notebook—write that down, write that down!"), cats versus dogs ("you can train cats too, you just don't have enough patience"), and the dance team ("there were kazoos and immediately I knew I was in the wrong"). It's a good distraction from his impending doom of public speaking, but when the bell rings to dismiss them from lunch to class, he realizes that it was just that: a distraction.

He feels his hands clam up, his breathing pick up, and his pulse skyrocket. He can't even force himself to get up from his seat.

"Hey," Julie's voice says from across the table. "We'll be here for you after your speech, yeah? I have a free period after next period since we already took our history midterm so I'll meet you here, okay?"

Willie's hand falls on his shoulder and Alex is already tense so it doesn't even matter that he gets even tenser. "Hey, man," he says "I read through your speech like, ten times. It's ace, you've got this. Don't even bother looking at the audience, just read right off the paper, okay? You don't even need public speaking skills, you're gonna be a fucking rock star."

"C'mon," Reggie says, standing behind him. "I'll walk you to class."

Alex looks at each face surrounding him, and each of them are encouraging, each of them believe in him. He closes his eyes then and swings his legs over the bench and stands up. "Yeah, let's go."

"Good luck!" he hears a group chorus behind him, but he doesn't look back to acknowledge them, doesn't think he can because if he looks back then he'll see their faces and he'll want to hold on to them and so he focuses on the feeling of Reggie's arm brushing against his and keeps walking forward. It doesn't even take them two minutes to get to class, and then Reggie is shaking Alex's shoulder and wishing him luck. Alex doesn't look at Reggie's face for the exact same reason he didn't look back at his group of friends. He doesn't think he'd actually go into class if he'd looked at Reggie.

So he doesn't look at Reggie, and instead walks into the classroom where Mr. Kullins is waiting. Alex takes his seat—second row next to the window—and waits while the rest of the class files in. He pulls his speech out of his backpack and stares at it. He mumbles to himself, reciting his speech as students fill their seats.

"You never write a theme for a movie thinking 'this will live forever.'" John Williams, famous composer, said this. He and countless other composers create the accompaniment to films we know and love. Consciously, we hardly pick up on these melodies, but subconsciously, they influence how we consume the media. A good score can cause a tear, while a great score can make you weep. A good score can make you pause while a great score can make you hold your breath. A—

The bell to start class rings and Alex clenches his fist tightly around the edge of his desk, fighting down the wave of nausea that rises up in his throat. Mr. Kullins is speaking in the background, welcoming everyone to class, explaining that they'll be finishing up the last of the midterms today. It's in alphabetical order by last name, and Alex isn't sure if he's glad to have been granted the grace of going on the last day, or if he wishes he had just gotten it over with on the first day.

McConnell, Rebecca goes first and Alex's nausea rises. Then Stenson, Ryan goes, and the nausea is in every part of Alex's body now, from his head to his toes. Then Mr. Kullins calls Taylor, Alex, and Alex really, genuinely thinks he's going to be sick.

Don't even bother looking at the audience, just read right off the paper, okay?

Right—like Willie had said, he could pretend he was just reading it to himself, right? Just read it straight off the paper. Alex stands from his desk and walks to the front of the room, going to stand behind the podium that's set up for their speeches. He sets his speech down on the stand and doesn't lift his head, not once.

"Everyone, give Mr. Taylor your full attention," Mr. Kullins says from where he sits behind his desk, and Alex wants to scream at him. No! Let them—let them go on their phones! Let them talk to each other! Don't make them pay attention to me!

He starts by taking in a deep, quivering breath. "'You never write a theme for a movie thinking 'this will live forever.''" Alex pauses here, swallowing. He can hear people in the audience shuffling. Someone shifts in their chair and he glances up to see who it was. Shit. All of their eyes are on him. Quickly, he looks back down at his paper. The words are blurrier than they were when he started, and there's a pressure in his head that wasn't there at lunch, but he presses on. "John Williams, famous composer, said this. He… and countless other composers… create the accompaniment to films we know and love… Consciously," he glances up again against his better judgment and feels his face flush hot when he connects eyes with one of the students. "Uh. Consciously, we hardly pick up on these melodies, but subconsciously—" Alex cuts off when a large black dot dances in front of the words he's reading. His throat is burning all the way down to his gut. Without thinking, he leans both his arms on to the podium and hides his face between them.

In, 2, 3, 4.

There's murmurings from around him, but he can't lift his head.

Hold, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.

There's a louder murmuring from closer to him this time, but he can't, he can't.

Out, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.

There's a hand on his back.

His head shoots up, and the room spins.

"Mr. Taylor?" Mr. Kullins asks with a cautious voice, and oh, does he have a lot to be cautious about right now.

"Gotta sit," Alex says quickly, moving to the back wall as quickly as he could to slide down it and put his head between his knees to continue his breathing exercise. He might have felt embarrassed, but the alternatives were passing out or throwing up—he'd know, it's happened multiple times before.

He hears footsteps all around him and the shuffling of desks as he assumes students are trying to move to get a better look at him, but he keeps focused on his counts, and lets Mr. Kullins tell them that the next student is going to go. Someone gets up from their desk and shuffles their papers around before settling it on the podium. Alex briefly wonders what happens to his paper.

The rest of class passes with Alex curled up in the back of the class room, listening to his final three class mates give their speeches, and then they're done. There's extra time left before the bell rings, so that means extra time for everyone to stare at him, so he picks his head up, confident that he's not going to pass out or throw up anymore, and looks at Mr. Kullins. His teacher looks back at him and wheels over in his chair to Alex and frowns at him.

"Are you okay?"

"Now I am. I was about to pass out," Alex explains, far beyond feeling embarrassed about it.

"Does… that happen often?"

"With public speaking?" Alex asks. "Yes."

Mr. Kullins frowns. "We'll speak with Principal Lessa, see if we can't get something figured out. You're not the first one. Do you think you'd be able to do your speech for just me?"

"No, yeah, that would be fine, I just… not… crowds."

"Aren't you in a band?"

Alex nods, just as the bell rings. He carries on, anyways. "Yeah. But that's—different. First, I'm not alone when I'm with my band. Second, I'm good at drums. I'm not good at speeches."

His teacher sighs. "Alright. Your midterm grade will be delayed but we'll speak with Principal Lessa next week."

"Thank you, really."

He nods. "Your speech is on the edge of my desk. Don't forget it when you leave. Are you okay to leave?"

"Yeah," Alex nods, pushing himself to his feet. He's a little unsteady at first, but his balance comes back quickly and he's able to make his way to Mr. Kullins desk and grab his speech. He goes to gather his backpack then, stuffing his speech inside of it, and waves goodbye to his teacher, who waves back.

When he leaves the classroom, he makes his way to the cafeteria like he promised Julie he would. She's waiting for him at their usual table, waving and beaming. He offers a small smile back as he sets his bag down.

"You got through it!" she yells. "It's over!"

Alex laughs humorlessly and slips on to the bench. "No, it's not."

The smile drops off of Julie's face. "What?"

"I nearly passed out, so we're talking to Lessa and I'll be giving my speech to just Kullins. Which, is better, I guess, but now I still have to worry about it until next week."

"Oh, Alex," Julie sighs. "I'm sorry. I wish the band could just… be there with you."

"That'd be nice," he says, putting his elbows on the table. "But I still suck at speaking anyways, so I'm not sure how much that would help."

"Alex, that speech you wrote is amazing," Julie says. "You're good at words, which is what speaking is. What you're concerned about is how people perceive you. When you have us with you, you think that people are looking at you similar to how they look at us just by association and you're okay with that because you love us. But when you're alone you think that people are looking at you similar to how you look at you, at that's nitpicking every little thing and criticizing every fault."

Alex blinks, stares at her. He feels his mouth open, ready to defend himself, but he's not sure what he'd actually say, so he forces it shut again. Julie sits, staring at him, unwavering. He leans forward on his elbows and brings his hands together, twining his fingers. "I… okay."

Julie rolls her eyes and huffs a small laugh. "Come on, Alex, you know I'm right."

"Do I?" Alex asks, voice pitching up an octave. Because, really. Does he? He's pretty sure it's more due to what he told Mr. Kullins—he's good at drums, he sucks at speeches. Even if he is good at words like Julie said, speeches are an entirely different brand of words. They're spoken word. And that… that is the kind of word that Alex does not do. See, if his assignment were an informative written paper on the impact of film and television scores, yeah, Alex would ace that. But it's not. And not because he thinks his class is looking at him the same way he looks at himself, Julie, but because he sucks at speeches. He says 'uh' too much, he pauses in weird places, his flow is weird, his thoughts wander, and he could go on. There's no room for any of that in papers—well, yes there is, but they can be edited out, is the point.

Julie reaches a hand across the table and covers Alex's fingers with it. She shakes it and offers a soft smile. "You should. You would kill speech class, Alex. You just have to get out of your head."

"Yeah, the person with anxiety has to get out of their head," Alex says, flipping his hand over so he can grab hold of hers. He shakes her hand so her arm wiggles. "Never heard of that quick fix before."

"Hey, I never called it a quick fix! Just said it needed to happen."

Alex smiles at her and pulls his hands back. "I'll keep that in mind." Julie lets him drop the subject after that and they turn their attention to their home work, settling into silence. 

[fearfilledvirgil]

Ivity and Anx: part eighteen

Summary: Virgil and Roman hate each other to the core of their beings, but both become friends with a new stranger via the Sarrahas Project. Virgil takes to Creativity as well as Roman does to Anxiety, but they don’t know the true identity of the ones they’re slowing falling for.

Warnings: swearing, graphic panic attack, talk of parental abuse, talk of attempt at murder, body image issues, implied eating disorder, nighmares, 

Word count: 10,614

Pairing: Slowburn Prinxiety

A/N: this is literally a behemoth but i didn’t feel like splitting it up like we did with seventeen. you are welcome. this is very very long and very very emotionally taxing. taglist under the cut. warning: exteme panic attack in this section

masterlist

taglist: @rileyfirstname @verymuchanidiot @definentlynotjustanotherlemon @silversmith-91 @kanejandkruge @sander-fander-sides @lovecrazyjennybear @the-incedible-sulk @hexdream18243 @crows-with-hats @monikastec @definenormalifyoucan @i-am-absolute-fandom-trash @applecannibal @cats-with-blogs @bubblycricket @witchcraft--and--wizardry @bunnyartie @quietlypondering @elusivefalsehoods @hghrules @royallyanxious @quietwords-loudthoughts @squishynonbinarytwink @sortablue @illogical-anxieties @savingshae @a-fander-named-skittles @thelowlysatsuma @ughthatsprettygay @im-so-infinitesimal @certifiedtrashxx @karmels-stuff @sanders-sides-trash-blog @musicqueen1239 @the-average-loner @nicological1 @oh-star-how-the-mighty-fall @surleytemple​ @nervous-collection @asapmykeyy-blog @super-magical-wizard @arandompasserby @serenitythepanther @ijustrealizedhowdumbmynamewas

Roman shut the door as he kicked off his shoes after walking out to Patton’s car with him to make sure he got in alright. As he did so, he couldn’t help but smile up at Virgil, who still stood waiting in the kitchen. Pride was bubbling in his chest. His best friend and Virgil got along better than he could’ve hoped. His mind was about to call Virgil his ‘good friend’, but something didn’t sit right with that. Virgil was more than that, but Roman didn’t really know what was more about him.

Virgil put down his still charging phone, sighed, and followed Roman to the living room before flopping on the couch. “That was exhausting.”

“What was?” Roman asked, sitting next to the lanky boy.

“The whole day. I think even without getting Extreme Dad Mode, as you call it, it would’ve been tiring. He’s just this huge ball of energy that doesn’t stop.” Despite saying how exhausted he was, there was a fond smile tugging on Virgil’s lips.

“He’s an amazing friend. And I’m really glad you two got along.” Roman splayed himself out on the couch, grabbing the remote to turn on the TV.

“Honestly, Princey? I’m glad we did too.” A yawn left Virgil’s mouth, which made Roman avert his gaze from the dark TV to his company.

“Tired?” He asked to make Virgil look over at him instead of down at the floor.

“I guess so.” Virgil turned his head and promptly died on the inside. Roman’s legs were spread in a mansplanting position, arms draping over the back of the couch, and his neck was exposed from being turned toward Virgil. He looked absolutely amazing handsome, and Virgil cursed himself for blushing. Roman’s chest, arms, neck, and crotch were just too much for Virgil’s heart to handle.

“Why don’t we get you to bed? It’s been a long day for the both of us.” Roman noticed the small blush on Virgil’s face, but didn’t shift his position. The brush of color on Virgil was actually very adorable.

“Yeah. Sounds good.” Virgil stood up rather quickly. He didn’t know what he was thinking. Roman was Roman. Even though he isn't as straight as Virgil once thought, he still was way out of Virgil’s league. Not to mention the fact that their friendship is still very uncertain. Feelings would get in the way of that.

Roman got up and put down the TV controller. He couldn’t help but think that Virgil was just checking him out, and it honestly made him feel a weird bubbling emotion in his gut. Virgil looked quite exquisite when he was blushing, yes, and even more so when Roman was the cause. Princey shook his head, trying to clear those thoughts. After they stopped to grab their phones in the kitchen, Roman lead Virgil back into his older brother’s old room. “I put your clothes in the closet. And the PJs you borrowed yesterday are in there too.”

“Thanks.” Virgil looked around for a moment, remembering this as the room he was supposed to sleep in the night prior. He gave a small grin to Roman, one meant to just be a quick twitch upwards of the lips. Instead, it turned into a genuinely fond smile. It was still small, but it made Roman return one of his own. Not wanting to overstay his bounds in his guest’s room, he walked out, closing the door behind him to give Virgil some privacy.

Virgil sighed, moving toward the unmade bed to sit for a few minutes. I fucking hate that I’m a charity case here. He started to think as he surveyed the grey and pink room. At least it’s somewhere I feel safe. Virgil took a deep breath, scrunching some of the soft pink coloured comforter. In an attempt to prevent his mind from spiraling farther, he pushed himself off the grey framed bed toward the closet. When he opened the grey sliding door, he groaned.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me…” Virgil quickly changed into the PJs waiting for him nonetheless, wincing slightly when the shirt went over his bandaged wound. Once that was done, he found his way to outside of Roman’s bedroom. He knocked, companying that with a small, “Ivity?”

“One second!” A moment later Roman opened the door, clad in a large faded salmon t-shirt and the same bottoms as the night before. “What’s up, Jack Scarrington?”

“Where did all the clothes in there come from?” Virgil crossed his arms in an attempt to seem more threatening.

“The thrift store.” Roman wasn’t even fazed by the threatening stance of Virgil. He probably should have been, but that’s beside the point.

“No shit. I knew that much,” Virgil gave him a half glare, but he wasn’t able to give a full one. Roman just looked a bit too adorable with his tired eyes and oversized shirt. “I looked at a few of them there. How did they get here?”

“I picked them up. You needed more than three shirts and two pants.” Roman scratched the back of his head, which made Virgil internally curse himself again. Roman needed to stop.

“I’m not a charity case, Princey.” Virgil hardened his glare, fueled by the insufferable fact that a tired Roman was a cute Roman.

“I know you’re not. If you want you can teach me how to make breakfast tomorrow to return the favor.” Roman cracked a small smile, which in turn cracked a small piece off of Virgil’s glare.

“Hardly the same thing.”

“Virgil, I wanted to make sure you had enough clothes for a little bit. And it was Patton’s suggestion. He was worried about it too.”

Virgil just shook his head and removed his gaze from Roman. “Just… don’t make a habit out of it. I’m not staying here for you to pay for everything.”

“I know that. If it bugs you that much we can work something out later. Right now I think both of us would like to head to bed.” Roman let loose a yawn mid-sentence that he couldn’t suppress for added effect.

“Alright,” Virgil shifted his weight before looking back at Roman. “Talk to you in the morning, Prince.”

“Sleep well, Sanders.” Roman used Virgil’s last name as well before closing the door to his bedroom.

Virgil walked back into the room he was sleeping in, but decided to look in the dresser drawers out of curiosity and the fact that he wasn’t that tired yet. There wasn’t a lot of items of interest: an iPhone charger, an old baseball card, a puka shell necklace that had broken, and three differing sized but identical green and brown bracelets. However, there was one thing that caught his attention. An older pair of grey headphones, ones that appeared to be noise cancelling.

Hoping that Roman’s brother wouldn’t mind, Virgil grabbed the headphones–and the charger–and sat on the bed again. He plugged both of them into his phone, a sigh of relief leaving his mouth when the charger worked. Then, Virgil put on a Fall Out Boy song to test how well the headphones worked. He was pleasantly surprised to know that they sounded like they were brand new. He quickly pulled up YouTube and Roman’s new song. He wanted to listen to it properly. He definitely didn’t just want to listen to Roman’s voice. Obviously not.

Getting comfortable under the covers, Virgil pressed play on the video. As he listened to the song and the pure emotion that was poured into it, his eyes fluttered shut. For some reason, after the first play through, Virgil decided to play it on a loop. After about the fourth time through, he started to drift into a peaceful sleep with a smile on his face.

Virgil woke up from the sun shining in his face, Psychic still softly playing through the headphones that had long since shifted off his head. Groaning, he rolled over and grabbed his phone to check the time. It was fairly early, just before eight in the morning. This caused Virgil to groan again and throw his arm over his eyes.

Why so fucking early? Virgil lamented to himself. No person in their right mind is up this fucking early. Unfortunately nothing Virgil tried would allow himself to fall back asleep. After about half an hour of trying he threw the covers off in frustration.

He stumbled out of the bedroom and was greeted by the smell of coffee. Roman, who had noticeably wet hair, was grabbing a mug out of the cabinet when Virgil walked in. “Good morning, gothlight!” Virgil vaguely groaned in answer. “Not a morning person I take it. Perhaps a cup of coffee will help,” Roman was answered in a groan again, but this one sounded like conformation. “I’ll pour you one too.”

Virgil flopped in a chair as Roman poured two cups of coffee. He brought them over to the table before returning to the kitchen to pull out some vanilla creamer, milk and sugar since he wasn’t sure how Virgil prefered to drink his coffee. Roman set all three items down on the table before settling into a seat himself.

Roman poured some of the vanilla creamer in his coffee as Virgil drank his black. The duo stayed silent while they enjoyed their morning drinks. Virgil stood and poured himself another cup followed by a third shortly after.

The third cup seemed to wake Virgil up enough to speak. “‘Morning, Ivity.”

“He does speak.” Roman teased with a grin on his face.

Virgil just flipped him off. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Not sure.”

“Well think about it. I’m going to go change out of these baggy pants.”

“Alright.”

Roman watched Virgil leave. He stood and looked in the fridge and pantry for what would be easy. He decided on making waffles from a box mix, as it was convenient and easy. When Virgil returned with slightly better smelling breath, Roman held up the box.

“I was thinking we could do waffles.”

“Ya know we could do them from scratch right?”

“I’m aware, but I want this to be something I can do if I need to.”

“Alright. Let me see that.”

He took the box from the older boy and read what they needed. Virgil tasked Roman with getting the waffle iron out as well as a bowl and hand mixer. While Roman was gathering those items, Virgil grabbed three eggs and the oil out. Step by step Virgil walked Roman through how to make the batter and pour them into the waffle iron.

The first one came out a little burnt. “It’s okay, Creativity. Now you know not as long.”

Roman tried again. It took him four more tries before one came out correctly. He was so excited when it did he bounced up and down like Patton. Virgil couldn’t help but chuckle, a blush almost overtaking his cheeks as well as his ears. After he was sure Roman wouldn’t burn anything, he got to work on cutting up some fruit to have with it.

Once breakfast was complete, the two ate in silence. Roman–once again–didn’t finish his plate, but it was a few more bites than the day before. Virgil counted it as a victory. During clean up, the two decided to just have a calm relaxing day watching Disney movies after the excitement of the day prior. Some time later, Virgil felt his phone vibrate with Logan’s specific rhythm during a playful debate with Roman over which character in Moana was the best.  

Virgil removed his gaze from Roman to look down at his phone. The smile he wore dropped from his face in an instant, all the color draining away as well. It was after five in the evening. Fuck fuck shit. Fuck! Virgil’s mind started as his eyes widened. I’m going to get killed. I have to go back. But he might kill me if I go back. Fuck. Virgil didn’t check the text. All he could think about was fear, paralyzing fear. His body was going into overdrive, panic spreading from his heart to every inch of his body

“Virgil? Virgil, are you okay?” Roman asked with his words dripping with concern. He didn’t understand why Virgil suddenly looked so pale, or why he was now shaking.

Virgil shook his head, mind and mouth not cooperating, despite the name repeat slicing through his muddling thoughts. He scrambled to move from where he was sitting on the couch, standing quickly and pocketing his phone. He was looking frantically from side to side, as if wondering where something was. It was painfully clear that whatever was causing the dark boy to panic was worse than his hospital fear.

“Hey, hey. Stop for a second. Please?” Roman stood almost as quickly as Virgil did, worry clear on his face. Virgil stopped in his frantic movements, but his body still shook violently. It looked as though he was holding back sobs. “Talk to me. I want to try and help you.”

“I gotta go- I gotta go home,” The only emotion in Virgil’s voice were clear fear. Panic. The dark eyes as big as saucers threatened to drop a few tears. “I’ve been gone for, for too long.”

“Virgil, why don’t we breathe together? Then you can explain what is going on.” Roman took two half steps toward the shaking boy in an attempt to get closer.

“No, no time. I gotta- gotta, I gotta- go,” Virgil breathed half of a shaky breath before forcing it out in his next breathy words, “He’s gonna be, he’s gonna... upset.”

“You came here with a cut from a knife from your house, Virgil. There is no way in hell I’m going to let you go back there. I don’t know what else he might do and I’m not going to lose you. You mean too much to me to let that happen.” Roman took another step forward, trying his best not to agitate the panicking boy more than he already was.

Tears fell down Virgil’s cheek, which made the boy break out of his staring daze for Roman. He didn’t know if they were from fear at what his father might do, or from joy at hearing Roman say he meant a lot to him. Without much of a choice, Virgil’s unsteady legs gave out from underneath him, throwing him into Roman’s arms. Roman stiffened at the contact, but tried to hold Virgil up anyways.

He’s going to know you’ve eaten too much. You should have gone back to purging after you’ve eaten. Roman, you fucking idiot! All the hard work he put into helping you he’ll see has gone to waste. You’re not thin. Nothing but a flabby excuse of a boy. No muscles or abs, and he’s going to feel all of your rolls because of that. Those cookies that Patton made? And all the food Virgil cooked? It didn’t help any of this.

After several moments of those thoughts as Virgil shook in his arms, Roman realized something. Virgil was panicking to the extreme, and probably didn’t even have a fleeting thought about his body type. Right now, Virgil was probably worried for himself. Roman lowered Virgil to the ground, sitting himself and the panicking one down. Roman’s back was against the couch while Virgil was collapsed on his lap.

“I’m not going to let you get hurt, Virgil. Not as long as there’s anything I can do about it.” Roman tried to reassure, but Virgil kept shaking his head violently.

A particularly violent sob pushed itself out of Virgil’s mouth. At this point, the boy was in pieces. He was sobbing, shaking, crying, with fear amplifying all his senses into flight mode. He had so much adrenaline in his heart that he felt as though he were dying. Thoughts bounced around his head so quickly that he couldn’t latch onto one for long enough to expand it. Instead, several half-formed thoughts started to stutter out of Virgil’s mouth with little to no explanation.

“P-punish….punishment will be worse. Need-ne-need to go- to go home. Thr-three, three days gone and, and, an-an-and he’ll.. he’ll…” Roman opened his mouth to say something of comfort, but Virgil continued to stutter things out.

“I-I got, I got so, so scared. I moved but, but, but would’ve got- gotten hurt worse.. just a deep cut on arm.” Virgil placed his hand on Roman’s chest, jabbing at it harder than he thought he was. His mind was swarmed with panic, his eyes with tears, that he didn’t realize just what he was doing.

Roman resorted to letting Virgil spew his words. He keep his own breathing in the rhythm that Virgil taught him, just in case the younger was watching his breath as he pounded his finger into his chest. There also was the reason that Roman himself had started to freak out, but Virgil took more precedence.

“A-aim-aiming for my f-fu-fuck-ucking chest, Prin-Princey,” Virgil sobbed again. He stopped the movement of his hand and grabbed Roman’s shirt instead before burying his face in it as if he were hiding. “He was, he was try-trying to k-kill-kill me. I turned a-an-and put my arms, my arms up and that’s, that’s the fucking only reason it was my arm and not my heart. I pushed, I pushed h-im and ra-ran, ran.. He’s going to be so fucking pissed that I pushed him.” Virgil pushed the words out, choking on some and stuttering, while others he talked too fast on. He was still shaking, so much, as the fear he felt pushed him to tell Roman everything.

Roman almost stopped breathing at the shock that he felt rush through his body upon processing the information. He was also even more scared for his friend than he was before. No one should have to be attacked like that, even more so in their own home. The fact that Virgil was more worried about his father being upset for being pushed than for his own life spoke volumes to the kind of abuse Virgil went through.

“Fuck him,” Roman said coldly, causing Virgil to look at him in surprise. Roman was surprised at how calm he sounded considering he was terrified for his friend. “I’m definitely not letting you go back there now. You’ll be safe here. He tried to kill you Virgil; he’s.. he’s worse than toxic, worse than abusive….” Roman caused himself to stop his rant short when he noticed that the younger boy was still shaking. Violently might he add.

Virgil didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how he could push more words out of his mouth, but he needed to. For Roman. He needed to let Roman know that he couldn’t just say ‘screw my dad!’ like some preteen runaway who comes back home for dinner. The next attempt at his talking came out in a weak mumble, which peaked Roman’s concern again.

“Hey…” He said softer as he gently pulled Virgil more onto his lap. “Breathe with me, Virge. We’re both going to calm down okay? Now, in for four. You’re doing great. Hold for seven. And now out for eight.”

Virgil struggled to follow the breathing for the first few times. His heartbeat was still rampant, and the frequent sobs kept him from breathing properly. Roman kept encouraging him and counting out the breaths despite this. Even with that, it took several minutes before Virgil could take in a full breath instead of only half of one. Roman was patient though, rubbing the other’s back and breathing with him. He cooed and shushed him frequently, sometimes saying small “I’m here”s and “You’re safe”s. At one point, Roman began singing a soft song in Spanish that seemed to help calm Virgil down some more. Roman was still full of fear for his friend, but he was able to rein it back in during the breathing exercise and the attempts at comfort.

“I will never let him hurt you again, Virgil.” Roman said with full volume after the worst of the shaking had passed. “I swear to you as a Prince. He’ll have to go through me first. You’re safe here, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I don’t want him to hurt you, Princey.” Virgil’s voice was incredibly small, but at the very least he wasn’t stuttering anymore. “That’s why I have to go back. Not for me. Never for me. He’ll come… He’ll come after you and hurt you. I can’t let him hurt you…. You mean too much to me. He’ll hurt you to get back at me, and I’d never forgive myself for that.”

“He won’t hurt me. And he won’t hurt you either.”

“You don’t know that, damn it!” Virgil yelled, pushing himself slightly off Roman. The shaking was coming back and his voice was getting deeper as the panic became worse.

Roman didn’t flinch when the other raised his voice but he was confused as to why his voice lowered over an octave. “Yes I do. Because you’re not going back there for him to find out who to go after. He just… pulled a knife on you. I highly doubt he cares enough to find out who your friends are. He won’t know where to start looking for you.”

“He’ll find out! He always figures things out. He’s going to come here and hurt you if I don’t go home.” Virgil’s breath was becoming scattered again. It was clear it was getting harder and harder to get breaths in.

“Virgil, keep breathing. I know you’re scared, but I’m here for you. So is Patton and Logan. Both are just a call away, and I know both would want to keep you safe no matter what.” Roman pulled the younger back onto his chest. Virgil did so with no resistance.

“He almost hurt Logan,” Virgil mumbled into Roman’s chest. “He… he didn’t because I... I let him do whatever he wanted to me without leaving to get help. He was going to hurt Logan. He found out, and he was going to hurt him. I have to.. I have to save you too. You don’t deserve it, you don’t. You don’t.”

“And you’re saying you do? Because you don’t, Virgil,” Roman ever so slightly tightened his grip on the boy in his arms. “And you never will.”

Several moments of silence passed, the only sound in the living room being their breathing and the occasional vibration of a phone. Roman continued to hold Virgil in his arms until his breathing started to even. It was a blessing, but also a curse. That meant that Virgil would soon not want to be cuddling with him, which was a sad thought.

“Virgil?” The boy in question lifted his head to look at Roman with a hum of confirmation. “Did it trigger you when you had to use the kitchen knife to cut the… whatever you cut up?”

The silence he received was almost confirmation enough. “I mean, at the beginning…” Virgil trailed off again, his words slow and sloppy on his tongue. His eyes were starting to droop, as if he was beginning to have a hard time with keeping them open.

“Virgil, do I have permission to carry you to bed?” The elder asked concerned for the now tired boy in his arms. He was met with a low hum which he interpreted as a ‘yes.’

Roman very gently picked the young emo in his arms. He couldn’t help but notice how easy that was. It was clear that Virgil was even more skinny than he looked, which only made Roman worry more. On the walk from the living room to his older brother’s old bedroom, Virgil snuggled close to Roman before falling asleep. Gently Roman sat on the bed and laid Virgil down, covering him up with the comforter, hoping the weight from it would act as a little bit of security.

After about fifteen minutes of Virgil’s even breathing and occasional snore, Roman carefully removed himself from the bed, careful not to wake the sleeping boy. He quietly padded out of the room, closing the door most of the way before walking back into the living room. Roman picked up his phone, determination clear in his mind. Logan had to know about what happened to Virgil, and Roman needed to know if his life had been threatened before.

Once he opened his phone he realized he didn’t have Logan’s number. Knowing how important it was to get a hold of him, Roman sent a quick text to Patton.

Prince Roman: Hey Pat. Could I have Logan’s number? It’s important that I talk to him.

Pappy Padre Patton: Sure thing kiddo!

Roman was putting the number in his contacts when another text came in.

Pappy Padre Patton: Is everything ok? Is it about my dark strange son?

Prince Roman: No. Everything is not ok. I’ll explain it to you after I talk to Logan. Or maybe Logan can explain it. I’m not entirely sure if I can say it more than once.

Pappy Padre Patton: If you want me to come over I will!

Prince Roman: Let me make the call first. I’ll let you know. Thanks Pat.

Pappy Padre Patton: Of course!

Roman smiled at Patton’s text for a moment before going back into his contacts. His finger pushed the call button next to Logan’s number. Then he waited. When Roman got Logan’s voicemail he hung up frustrated. “I swear Calculator Watch if you don’t answer I will kick your ass.” He dialed it again.

This time the older boy answered on the final ring. “Hello?”

“Oh thank God. Logan. It’s Roman.”

“Salutations Roman. I apologize for not answering you the first time. I did not have your number.”

“It’s okay, but I’m really glad you answered.”

Logan noticed the slight urgency in Roman’s voice. “Is Virgil alright?”

“He’s safe here. But that’s what I want to talk to you about. I know you spoke to him the night he came here. What did he tell you?”

Roman could hear Logan walking. “Give me one moment,” Logan hurried down the hall to his room and walked in, closing the door and locking it. “My apologies again. I was in the common room and would rather not have everyone else hear.”

“Understandable.”

“He told me that he stood up to his father. He also told me that it happened really fast, or really slow. Which to me is a sign that his fight or flight was working at maximum capacity to keep him safe. And he told me that he turned and the blade went deeper in his arm.”

“That’s all he told you?”

“Yes? Why do you ask?”

“Because that’s not all that happened.”

Roman heard Logan sit on his bed by the springs squeaking slightly. “What do you mean?”

Roman took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. “Everything he told you happened, but he didn’t tell you why he turned.” He bit his lip, not sure how to continue.

“Roman?” Logan asked after a moment.

Okay Roman. You just gotta spit it out. Rip it off like a band aid. “He turned to avoid the knife going into his chest.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. It was broken by a soft, “Holy fuck.”

“Understatement of the year there buddy.”

“How did you find out about this, Roman?”

“He told me in the middle of a panic attack. It’s was the worst one I’ve seen him have. Like he had a pretty bad one over the hospital thing but this was far worse. He told me that his father was trying to kill him. And that he had to go back today because he was gone too long. He also told me that his father tried to go after you for helping Virgil but he didn’t because Virgil let him do whatever he wanted to him instead. So he’s terrified of what his father will do to me. He can’t go back to that hell hole. I won’t let him.”

Roman took a deep breath. He didn’t expect to ramble quite as much but it was all things that needed to be said. Now he just had to wait to hear what Logan had to say. It took a few minutes, however, before the eldest spoke again.

“That son of a bitch needs to be in jail.”

“I know. But I don’t know if just me and Virgil will be quite enough. Logan, he needs you here too. You’re good at the logical talking. You could probably talk Virgil into going to the police better than Patton or I could. I know you just got to college and everything but this is really important.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but college can wait. Where’s Virgil now?”

“Sound asleep. He’s even snoring a little. I think the attack really wore him out.”

“They have a tendency to do that. I’ll get things together on my end here. I should be in town by tomorrow evening.”

“Thank you Logan. I need... to know something, though.”

“Alright?”

“Do you know if his father’s ever tried to hurt him like that before?”

Logan pondered for a moment, searching his mind for memories. “The worst I recall were a few deep cuts and a broken rib. But he’s never said anything of an actual attempt on his life.”

“Do… you think you could make a list of everything you recall Virgil coming to you with?”

“I have already compiled a list. With the dates and what I did to help fix them.”

Roman couldn’t help but chuckle. “Why does that not surprise me, Lo-CD?”

“I wouldn’t tease me over something so critical.”

“Touche. Honestly I’m just really glad that you kept notes. They will help give a timeline of how long others have known about the abuse as well as the messages between me and him.”

“I would write all of that down as well. When you two first starting speaking over messages, and any texts or calls you made to one another, that is.”

“That’ll take a long time, but I’ll get started. I’ll make notes of any important messages as well.” Roman found himself searching through old notebooks to find an empty one in his room shortly after he finished his sentence.

“The time spent will be well worth it, Roman.”

“I know it will be,” Roman walked back out into the living room with the notebook and pen in hand. “Would you do me one more thing?”

“I will do what I can.”

“Could you let Patton know what’s going on? I had to get your number from him but I don’t know if I can say it again. And Virgil trusts him. They had an amazing heart to heart yesterday.”

Logan hated going behind his honorary brother’s back, but knew Patton would worry himself sick if he didn’t get told. “I will. Let me gather the information I need here and I will give him a call.”

“Thank you, Logan. I honestly owe you one.”

“You’re keeping Virgil safe in my absence. We’re pretty even.”

“See you tomorrow, nerd.”

“Until then, prep.”

Roman chuckled at the nickname and hung up. He quickly got to work on finding dates and times of any phone calls they made as well as when they first started speaking. Unbeknownst to Roman, Logan was putting together all of the paperwork into a folder as well.

Logan opened his computer and began looking up flights. After he had searched for a while, calming himself down, he figured it would be a good time to call Patton. However, it took him a few moments with his finger hovering over the call button before he pressed it. His guilt for speaking about Virgil’s trauma was weighing heavily on him, but it was something Patton would find out eventually. It would be better if it was from someone close. Plus Patton would be extremely upset if he didn’t find out until the trial that was bound to happen.

Logan only had to wait a moment before the younger picked up. “Hey Lo!”

“Salutations Patton. How are you?”

“I’m alright! A little worried though. Roman text me asking for your number.”

“I am aware. He called me. We just got off the phone approximately fifteen minutes ago.”

“Oh. I’m glad you two got to talk.”

“As am I. And that’s part of the reason I called you.”

“It is?” Patton sat up from laying on his bed. He knew that whatever Logan was going to say was important.

“Yes. I am flying back tomorrow. I’m looking for a flight now.”

“It’s something that bad?” Concern was clear in the younger’s voice.

“It’s that bad I’m afraid. Are you sitting?”

“Yeah?”

“Good. What I’m about to tell you is a lot. I know you have questions, but if you could refrain from asking any until I am finished it would be much appreciated.”

“I’ll try.”

“That is all I can ask of you,” Logan took a deep breath and stopped looking for flights. He pressed his fingers against his nose again, like he did whenever he was stressed. A migraine was forming, but he didn’t have time to go and take something right now. “Virgil had a very extreme anxiety attack a short while ago. He told Roman that his father tried to… to kill him,” He heard the distressed noise on the other end of the line. “He’s safe. Which is something good. He’s safe, and Roman isn’t going to let him return to that place,” Logan said that more for himself than for Patton, but he knew it benefited the other as well. “Virgil is very lucky that his fight or flight allowed him to process what was happening. I am going to speak with him in the morning about speaking to police.

“The… the years of abuse were bad enough, but the attempt on his life is too far. I can’t humor Virgil and let him stay silent anymore. His father needs to be behind bars where- where he cannot hurt Virgil again. I’ve already collected all the data I have, and Roman is doing the same. Making notes and copies of anything important. We will use this as evidence against his father.”

Patton was squeezing his pillow tightly to his chest. “He’s gone through so much. I assumed so when I saw some of his scars and… And with what you told me but I didn’t know just how bad it was. He… Virgil needs to be protected.”

“And he will. I truly believe that he will be safe with Roman. Just the protectiveness I heard in Roman’s voice is evidence enough of that, and I know you will help protect him as well. We all will.” The pain behind his eyes was getting to be too much. Logan stood on wobbly legs to retrieve his medicine from his personal bathroom.

“Darn right I will! I know I’m not.. I’m not quite as much help as you and Roman are, but I’m still going to help in any way I can.”

Logan couldn’t help but smile at the boy who held his heart. “I believe you can help quite a bit Patton. You seem to have an affinity for calming those around you down. That will prove to be extremely useful for not only Virgil, but myself and Roman as well. Do not discredit you’re ability.”

Patton smiled wide at what the handsome boy told him. “You really think so?”

“I do. It’s going to be critical during the trial that will most likely happen. I’m aware Roman can have a slight temper and you need to help keep that in check.”

“I’ll do everything I can.”

“I have complete faith in you.”

Patton could hear the smile in the other man’s voice. “Let me know if you need me to pick you up from the airport.”

“I will. If not I will still call and let you know when I have landed.”

“Sounds good! Maybe we can all meet up when you get in town somewhere. Grab a lunch now that we all know each other better.”

“That sounds nice. I will leave planning that in your capable hands.”

Patton smiled at the older boy, even though he couldn’t see. “Is there anything you need me to do tonight?”

Logan thought for a moment. “I do not believe I can think of anything. Perhaps going to check on Roman would be beneficial. He sounded extremely stressed.”

“Will do! I’m glad you’re coming back home. I just wish it was for happier reasons, though.”

“As do I, Patton. I will speak with you tomorrow.”

“Talk to you tomorrow, Lo!”

Neither boy wanted to hang up. They both enjoyed each other’s company too much, and it had been a little while since they spoke over the phone. Patton held his phone close like it was a lifeline. His whole body seemed to curve in on itself as he clutched the object tighter. He wasn’t entirely sure why it was so hard to hang it up. He would be able to speak to Logan tomorrow.

“Patton?” Logan’s voice cut through the father figure’s thoughts.

“Yeah, Lo?”

“As much I enjoy speaking with you, staying on the line will not allow you to help Roman.”

“You didn’t hang up either.”

There was a moment of silence. “Point well made. I’m going to hang up so you may go help your friend in his time of need. Good night, sweet Patton.”

Patton’s heart soared at the last sentence. “Goodnight, Lolo. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Indeed you will.”

It was still a few moments before Logan finally hung up. As soon as he did, Patton pulled up Roman’s text conversation. He sent a message before getting up from the bed to grab his shoes.

Pappy Padre Patton: I just got off the phone with Lo. I’ll be over soon.

Prince Roman: You don’t have to Pat.

Pappy Padre Patton: I want to! I wanna be there for you and our little emo. But right now I think you need me there.

Roman couldn’t help but smile at this best friend. He loved how Patton would always be there for him. He sent one more text.

Prince Roman: Drive safe. And text me when you get here. I don’t want the doorbell to wake up Virgil.

Pappy Padre Patton: Will do!

Roman breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t have to be alone after hearing such horrific things. Despite his inner demons taunting him for his weight, Roman went and grabbed himself a couple cookies and a glass of milk. Once he collected both, he sat on the couch and gently nibbled on the cookies while he waited for Patton to arrive. He needed them to help his stress level at the moment.

About 20 minutes later Roman’s phone lit up. He looked down and read the text.

Pappy Padre Patton: Just pulled up.

Again, he was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Gently moving the cookie plate over on the couch, Roman stood and went to unlock the door. As soon as he did he was enveloped in a hug by the younger boy. Roman gladly returned the hug. After a moment both let go and moved further inside of the house.

“How’s Virgil doing?” Patton asked as he slid his shoes off.

“He’s still sound asleep. Logan said his worse attacks leave him pretty tired.”

“Our poor kiddo. How are you doing? That had to be a hard thing to hear.”

“Honestly?” Roman asked as the two sat on the couch. “I’m feeling a lot. Anger. Worry. Protectiveness. No one should have to go through that. Especially by someone they call family.”

Patton nodded in agreement as he held Roman’s hand, rubbing gentle circles on the back of it. “Family is defined by bonds, not blood. But I’m here to help in anyway I can. I already told Logan and he told me that I’d be really good at helping keep everyone calm. Well more calm. I don’t think any of us can really be calm with this.”

“He’s right. You’ve always known how to help bring my emotions in. You helped Virgil yesterday. And I’m sure you’ve helped Logan too,” Roman smiled fondly at Patton. “I think you’re going to play a bigger part than you think.”

Patton leaned in and hugged Roman again. “I hope I can help. I know you and Lo are going to do more of the evidence side but if I can help at all with that I’d like to.”

Roman hugged his friend back. “Actually, if you want you can write down important dates and what happened when I find them. I started after I talked to Logan but I think with the two of us working it’d go faster.”

“Sure.”

Roman grabbed the notebook he was using and passed it over to Patton. The two got to work writing down any important information the two could think of. A couple hours passed before Patton’s stomach growled. Roman chuckled at it.

“Why don’t we take a break and get something to eat? I think we still have some pasta left over. Or we can get something else.” Roman suggested. He was willing to eat, which told him that he was stress eating, but he didn’t care.

“Pasta’s fine with me. That is, if there’s enough to leave Virgil some for whenever he wakes up.”

“Let’s go look.”

The two boys stand and go to the kitchen on slightly wobbly legs caused from sitting too long. Patton looked in the fridge and pulled out the leftovers, doing his signature ‘Leftovers Dance’ as he dished up two plates worth. Roman giggled along with his friends antics, giving a small gingle for the younger to prepare the plates to. As Patton put the rest in the fridge, Roman put Patton’s plate in the microwave first. Afterward, he leaning against the counter to wait for the ding It was nice to go back to some normalcy between the two. Since Virgil had stopped talking to him, Roman seemed lost in thought and more distant. Now that they’re talking again, that had completely gone away. Roman teased him in fun and it wasn’t random just to act normal. Any comebacks were naturally flowing.

The two continued on for a while longer like that. They were at peace with each other, but each holding the same paralyzing fear in the back of their minds. It bore down onto their shoulders, signifying its presence as they wrote down dates and times and screenshotted several conversations. It was hard, but it needed to be done to help that paralyzing fear drift away into nothingness.

A buzz of Patton’s phone alerted him that it was almost his curfew. Patton thought he would have had more time. He thought that he was able to see Virgil when he woke up, but he was wrong.

“I gotta go.” Patton mumbled, not looking up from his phone. He knew that Roman was staring at him, that much was clear. What he didn't know by fixing his gaze down on his phone, though, was that Roman held the most understanding eyes.

“Probably for the best? Not that I don’t love your company,” Roman tripped over his words for a second before regaining his train of thought. “Virgil is tricky, and if he knows you know about what happened, he’ll see that as a third person he has to protect. He might not go to the police if… if he has you to protect too.”

“But I can take care of myself pretty well! Years of foster care has-” Patton looked up to try to defend himself, but Roman carried on.

“And I’m not saying that you can’t! He thinks he has to protect me of all people. I have a bodyguard on speed dial, and I’m also not… bad in the physical department,” Roman didn’t mean to bring up his body, but it happened. Even if he wasn’t at his goal weight with his dream muscle mass, he was still a force to be reckoned with. “It’s all in his head. To him, he’s the only thing standing in the way of his dad hurting us. If he… if he steps aside, he thinks we’re done for.”

“That must tell a lot of how it is to live with Mr. Sanders,” Patton paused, swallowing in an attempt to curb the tears that wanted to well in his eyes. “What that man must do to him…”

“Which is why we are doing all this.” Roman gestured to the papers strewn about his kitchen table.

“For him.” The ginger smiled softly and slightly crooked.

“For him.” Roman echoed, pushing his chair out with a small squeak as he stood. Patton did the same, and the two took one step each to meet for a hug.

Patton hugs were the definition of comfort. That fact stood high and mighty whether the person receiving the hug was shorter or taller than him. Patton would wrap his hands around someone underneath their armpits and hold them with just the right amount of pressure. He would grip onto the cloth of the person’s shirt or jacket and smooth that in between his fingers as long as the hug lasted as a secondary soothing tactic. The thing that made Patton’s hugs so iconic, though, was that he would nuzzle into whoever he was hugging and sway slightly on his feet. He was usually on his tiptoes, but he made it work. Another thing that made Patton’s hugs so comfortable was the fact that he was heavier set, and that he had a warm body temperature. He was always warm, so that made hugs impart his body heat onto whoever he was hugging.

Roman hugs were the definition of safe. Since he had a tall stature, most of the people that he hugged were shorter than him. This information was vital, considering a few facts. When Roman would hug someone, he would put his strong arms around their shoulders, and always around their shoulders. One, or both, of his hands cupped the actual shoulder of the person, gripping slightly as if to say ‘I’m here; will protect you.’ It was either that, or one of his hands would be flat in between someone’s shoulder blades with his thumb rubbing over the fabric. The other hand would be on the back of the person’s neck. This was what Roman was doing for Patton at the moment, along with playing with some of Patton’s longer hairs near his neck. The last thing that Roman did in a hug was place his chin or his cheek on top of the person’s head. It was the final piece of the puzzle that made the embrace say ‘It’s okay, I’ve got you.’

Both of the friends enjoyed each other’s hugs immensely. Part of the reason that they hugged the way that they did was because they both modeled their usual hugging form after what the other liked. Their hugs grew together, just like their lives. Their hugging style also reflected their personalities in a way, which was mostly a coincidence. Roman and Patton went together. Their personalities matched each other beautifully. But most importantly to them, they fit perfectly in each other’s arms.

Roman just hoped that he could do that for Virgil.

Patton prayed that he could do that for Logan one day.

Both of the boys pulled away rather reluctantly. It was a joke among their friends that the two couldn’t keep their hands off each other, which was a cruel twisting on what was actually going on. Patton needed reassurance of Roman’s presence, which he delivered through touch. Roman needed the consistency of Patton, which he delivered through touch. They both helped with the other’s issues in different ways, but the touch was the most recognizable by others.

“Drive safely, okay?” Roman asked of Patton. The younger boy was still at the ends of his fingertips, as Roman had yet to remove his calloused hands from the other’s shoulders. “I love you, Pat.”

“I love you too, my friend.” The words flew from his mouth, sweet like honey but quick like a waterfall. They were usual, and they were lovely.

At that, Roman pulled Patton in for one more hug. This one was very short, almost comically so compared to the other longer one. Patton then proceeded to smile up at his taller friend. Roman returned the grin despite the fearful and sad emotions that the longer hug held.

Of course, after the course of the day, that long hug wasn’t just so the two could hold each other. It was a comforting tactic, and a way to show that the other was safe. It was holding their best friend in their arms for a while as the world crashed down around them. It was clutching onto the only consistency in their lives as fear of what to come rushed through them. It was desperate, it was fear, and it was them.

Patton left without another word. He helped Roman sort some of the papers, though, but neither boy spoke. Neither wanted to break the fragility of the air around them. After they stopped talking, the seriousness of the situation weighed down on them. It plunged into their hearts again as they sorted the papers. Roman didn’t have the emotional strength to go through talking about what has happened for the fourth time that day. Patton didn’t have the knowledge or confidence to bring up a piece of the puzzle. They would let the silence roam until Patton left and Virgil woke.

What the two didn’t know was as Patton was stepping over the threshold of the home, Virgil was stirring in his sleep. Stirring may not have been the most accurate term to describe it though. It was more along the lines of tossing, trashing, and fighting. Fighting, or fearing. Inside his slumber, memories were forcefully brought before his eyes.

The glint off of the knife. A cackle ringing in his ears. Menacing, creeping forward, with a spark of something in his eyes. Was it joy? Was it reward? Was it happiness? Virgil didn’t know. All he knew was that there was a knife coming toward his chest and plunging into it around his ribs again, and again, and again, and again, and suddenly he could breathe. His throat was closing, no, there was a strong hand on his throat. Pressing down, down, tighter on his neck to stop breathing. The knife, strong, sharp, and ready to hurt, being raised up, up, up again before it came down onto Virgil right on top of his heart–

A scream ripped itself out of Virgil’s throat, his body jolting awake and upright. Virgil frantically scanned the room, momentarily lost again. He was breathing heavily, but not quickly like during an attack. Virgil swallowed, hands gripping the grey sheets as he came back to the present. He was sweating as well. The dream had been too real, too vibrant for his liking. He felt as though he were in a movie and the main character just woke up in a cold sweat from a prophetic dream. Like in the Order of the Phoenix when Harry dreamt of Nagini killing Mr. Weasley.

But this wasn’t a prophetic dream. It was a nightmare constructed by events of the near past to torment Virgil’s mind.

He hadn’t been fully aware that he had screamed until Roman came bursting in through the door. He was breathing heavily, now more than the calming down Virgil. The one sitting in the bed knew how to handle nightmares. For the most part.

“Are you okay?” Roman frantically asked, still huffing, as he walked to the bed. He must have ran up the stairs.

“I’m fine. Just a nightmare, but did you carry me up the stairs?” Virgil was already rolling off the panic of the dream, so he skipped that part of his current thought process.

“What?” Roman was highly confused, and still highly concerned. He gently sat himself down on the bed.

“You just ran up the stairs. This bedroom is upstairs. I have no memory of walking up the stairs.” Virgil seemed to Roman oddly calm for someone who just woke up screaming. He personally had to take several hours, many hugs, and warm drinks to calm himself from nightmares where he woke up in a rush, or screaming.

“I carried you up here, yeah. You crashed after your panic attack. Virgil, you’re surprisingly light and I do strength training.” Roman gave Virgil a cautious look, like he was a stray cat that could run away at any moment.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Virgil tried to say, only for his voice to break in the middle of the sentence. No, he didn’t need to break down again. He was fine.

“Sorry, probably because of the events of the past three days.” It was the older’s turn to be more nonchalant.

“Fair... point.” Virgil took a deep breath, steadying out the last of his heavy breathing. Suddenly, the covers over his legs and most of his body became way too warm. He kicked them off the best he could without accidently kicking Roman. He was still sitting on the foot of the bed.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want to talk about it?” Roman asked after Virgil kicked off the comforter rather roughly.

“It was just a nightmare. Happens a lot.” Virgil settled on as he pulled on his knees to his chest. After a curious look from Roman, he elaborated, “I have them just about every night. ‘M lucky I didn’t have one last night.”

Roman sucked in a breath, “How do you... Get through them?”

“‘N’ayez pas peur de vos rêves, car il n’y a plus grand maux de dépenser plus orienté vers les temps.’ An old saying in our family.” Virgil calmed his breathing down fairly quickly, certainly much quicker than whenever he had a panic attack. His nightmares didn’t invoke panic attacks, but only because of that key information his mom told him.

“Lo siento mi amor, but I don’t speak whatever you just spoke.” Roman chuckled slightly, putting in a dash of his own language for ‘I’m sorry, my darling.’

“French. I’m fluent, n’ my mom was too. It means ‘Do not be afraid of your dreams, for there are bigger evils to spend more time facing,’” he paused, looking down before looking back up. “And Spanish. Really?”

“What! Mi Madre is Latina. She spoke Spanish to my older brother and I so that we could be bilingual like her.” Roman explained very casually.

Virgil was about to respond to Roman’s confession, but Roman’s phone rang before he could do so. Roman screwed his eyebrows together, confusion rushing through him. He shared a look with Virgil who had a very similar expression on his face.

Silently, Roman dug his phone out of his pocket. He took a moment to look at the caller ID, a flash of recognition flashing in his eyes. Virgil didn’t understand it, nor did he know if he wanted to. Something inside him told him to leave the room and give Roman peace with his phone call, but he didn’t. He stayed put, which was out of the ordinary for him. Virgil always left when someone was having a phone call. That or they left the room themself.

“Hello? This is Roman Prince.” Roman spoke into the phone that was now up against his ear.

“Princey, you are needed at the studio immediately. Don’t ignore my calls again.” The sharp voice of his manager rang through his ears.

“I’m sorry. I must have had my phone on silent.” Roman apologized as he maneuvered his body into a more comfortable and closed off sitting position.

“Don’t let it happen again. And bring your guitar.” Roman looked up at Virgil at that, hoping that the other heard that too. Roman never was asked to bring his old Gibson.

“Okay? I’ll be there in twenty. Is it-” Roman made a groan sound of sorts as he was cut off by the line going dead. He was going to ask if he could bring Virgil, but his manager was always straight to the point. She never allowed time for extra things or nonsensical sentences. It was interesting to say the least.

“What was that?” Virgil asked after several moments of silence between the two. Roman gave a tilt of his head, complete with another confused look.

“I think,” Roman began, holding out the ‘i’ in ‘think’ in a singsong type tone. “My manager just called me into the studio.”

Virgil gave a dry chuckle, facial expression stone again. “You’re kidding right?”

“Not at all,” Roman began to get up from the bed as he shrugged his shoulders. “This happens more frequently than you’d think.”

“But, Princey-” Virgil tried to start, getting out of the bed as well.

“Hey, this way you can see my studio! It was fun seeing Patton see it for the first time. Gold.” Roman interrupted, not really knowing he was doing so. He was caught in his head again as he left the room to go get ready.

“Princey!” Virgil groaned, mostly to himself at this point. He quickly followed Roman in the hallway, upon which he saw him still determinedly walking away.

“I wonder if your reaction will be like Patton’s. Only time will tell I guess. Either way I think it’ll be interesting.”

“Damn it, Roman, will you fucking stop a minute?!” Virgil yelled.

Roman stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at Virgil, slight confusion on his face. “That is the first time you have said my name. All week.”

“Yeah. Well. I needed to get your attention. And calling you “Princey” wasn’t cutting it.” For some reason, Virgil’s cheeks heated up.

“Why did you wait so long?” Couriousty was clear in Roman’s tone.

Virgil looked at his feet, pondering the question for a minute. “I-I was scared I guess. Of what it meant. Names mean a lot and to use it meant something. I was scared of what that meant.”

Even though what Virgil said didn’t make the most sense, Roman understood what he was trying to say. Saying his name meant that Virgil was now a major part in Roman’s life. Where Patton started to use nicknames once he was close with the person as a sign of the relationship, Virgil was the opposite. He used nicknames so if he lost a person it wouldn’t hurt as bad.

“I get it, Virgil. But as much as it’ll pain you to know I’m not going anywhere.” There was a slight playful smile on Roman’s lips.

“But don’t you think it’ll ruin your image for me to be seen at the studio with you?”

“I don’t know if it will or not. Honestly I don’t care. I’m tired of not being able to be the real me. I’m forced to write songs a certain way and that’s not who I am. Not completely. So let them see me be with someone who doesn’t fit the ‘Princey’ stereotype.”

Virgil was dumbfounded. He never thought that Roman would be willing to give up his reputation. What’s even more surprising is Roman’s willing to give it up for him. “I-I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Say… say you’ll come to the studio with me.”

“Alright.” Virgil said after a moment of deliberation.

“Great. Meet you back in the living room in ten? I need to change and get my stuff together.”

“Okay…”

Roman turned back around and walked to his room. Virgil returned to his room to change out of his sweat stained clothes. Even though he would stick out like a sore thumb, there was no reason for him to do it and reek of sweat at the same time. Once he was in a clean outfit, he stopped in the bathroom to steal some deodorant before walking down to the living room.

Roman walked down a couple minutes later, carrying a guitar case and a beat up old notebook. “Ready, Panic! At the Everywhere?”

“You already used that one.” Virgil fired back as he rolled his eye. The two walked out of the house and towards Roman’s car without further words, ready for a long and interesting night.

Roman pulled his car into the driveway, returning from recording Psychic in the studio, not really caring that it was his Ma’s spot to park. Virgil was leaning his head back against the seat in a feeble attempt to sleep, but looked up when he noticed they had stopped moving. A quick look at the stereo’s clock told him it was almost four in the morning. He rubbed his eyes and unbuckled his seatbelt, Roman following suit.

The two dragged themselves from the car and up to the front door. It took Roman a couple of tries and a yawn to get the key in to unlock the door. He let Virgil in first before walking to the couch and throwing himself on it, not bothering to take his shoes off at the door. Virgil sat next to him and yawned.

“Why did that take so fucking long?” Virgil asked sleepily, rubbing at his face.

“Welcome to the life of a performer.” Roman answered as Virgil leaned into him.

He lazily, and quite unconsciously, wrapped his arms around the lanky boy. Virgil felt secure in his arms, but it felt different than the security he felt with Logan or Patton. It was almost if there was something more to the embrace. However, Virgil’s mind was so clouded with sleep he couldn’t put his finger on what was different.

Virgil relaxed into Roman even further, soon drifting off to sleep. Roman smiled and shifted carefully as to not wake up the sleeping one so the two could lay down flat. This meant that Virgil had to be slightly on top of Roman, but he didn’t mind. The astoundingly minimal weight was relaxing and grounding. After the rollercoaster of a day, it was just what Roman needed.

Within minutes with Virgil sound asleep in his arms, Roman fell into the deep world of dreams as well. The two were still sleeping soundly when three hours later the front door unlocked. Andrea, Roman’s Ma, walked through the threshold and held open the door for her wife Cinthia. Once Roman’s Madre was inside, Andrea locked the door behind her. When she turned around, she noticed Cinthia standing at the entrance to the living room and starring. When she moved forward herself, she saw the duo cuddled together on the couch sleeping. A happy smile spread across Cinthia’s lips, while a concerned gaze settled on Andrea’s. Roman hadn’t told them anything about anyone coming over, and this person certainly was not Patton.

Cinthia calmed Andrea with a light touch of her shoulder. Silently, Roman’s Madre pecked a kiss on her wife’s lips before taking one of the bags she carried in her hand again. Andrea took the second before she was pulled away by her wife. Both tiptoed up the stairs as quietly as they could as to not wake the two boys asleep in their living room.

next part

hello im back and im very tired but there probably isnt a beta reader in this world who i appricache more than @lovecrazyjennybear? like,,, she became my co-writer. what could be better than that? i love her. i love sleep. im really tired. its 1am. i wanna sleep. but yeah jen is amazing and did amazing stuff for this chapter. the entire logan and roman conversation was basically all her. yeah. shes awesome

[firedominant]

The signs as things my Gemini best friend has said to me

⚠️ WARNING : VERY STEREOTYPICAL ⚠️ 

Usually i hate posts that are as stereotypical as this but i just thought it would be fun to make this post because my best friend is funny af! 

He's a Gemini sun, Taurus moon & Leo rising 

Aries: Just because i have more muscle than the skinny rat he attacks me, like sure be that way i'll fuck you up 

Taurus: Oh my life Malin you do not just touch a man's bread 

Gemini: Remember when you used to be good at 8 ball pool?? Because i don't 

Cancer: You look like a walking corpse do you feel okay 

Leo: No but i'm just so goddamn hot that whoever i have kids with doesn't matter as long as they look more like me 

Virgo: I speak french better than you speak english, don't even try to correct my grammar 

Libra: Did you know it was my birthday yesterday? 

Scorpio: What sort of person ignores you?? The only person allowed to ignore you is me 

Sagittarius: Somebody give me a puka shell necklace because i’m about to go full douche.

Capricorn: Fuck i made a mistake on my digestion essay, let me go punish myself for eternity 

Aquarius: If an alien came from Mars to Earth would it experience jetlag 

Pisces: Do you think insects swallow smaller insects in flight??

[itsmekatiecassidy]

[text] No puka shell necklace, I wasn't that much of a poser, Kate. That was all Nick when I came back to California. I get it. In a way at least. Life has a way of reminding you of shit, especially when you're alone and conveniently vulnerable. I thought it was a fantastic reason. Yeah, I wouldn't expect you to be as resilient as me.

Text: I had one so fuck you--how about that. I knew I liked Nick for a reason. Is he from California? That could be why we’ve bonded so much. That’s kinda fucking deep, Armand. You’re not wrong, though. It’s like your brain knows when you want to go to bed and is like “Oh hey, what’s that? You wanna think of this bullshit right now instead of sleep? Cool.” Well, you thought wrong--good thing I’m here to tell you. Don’t fucking start with me Armie Hammer. I’ll fuck you up.

[sunflowergirl522]

That’s Peter Part 3

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You’ve been able to hop realities your whole life, running away to your favorite one with your favorite people when the blip happens. You come back to visit Jimmy to find out everyone came back and then get some bad news. When you go to find your boyfriend Peter you find out that he’s been snatched into a different reality.

Warnings: Language, grief

Word Count: 1331

Masterlist Previous Part

When you opened your eyes again and Wanda let everyone go back to what they were doing, Peter was gone. You had walked around the neighborhood as children and their families shuffled home trying to see if you could spot him in the crowd. You don’t even see him when you spot Wanda escorting her boys home or when you follow them hoping to be led to where Peter’s been staying. When you come up empty handed you decide to find somewhere to spend the night. Luckily there was an empty house up the block from Wanda’s.

In the morning you take another lap around the block before spying into the windows of Wanda’s house to see if Peter went home. All you see though are things seemingly glitching out which was weird but you brush it off as a problem for after you find Peter. That’s when an idea hits you that maybe he’ll be on the tv again at the SWORD headquarters. You teleport there just to find yourself still in the hex and in a circus? Wanda must have extended the barrier when she used her magic last night. You’ve gotta find Darcy.

You run through the circus trying to avoid any of the clowns to prevent anyone talking to you. You hear someone yelling at people you assume are running away and run immediately to the source. You make it in time to see Darcy and Vision run into a funnel cake truck.

“Darcy!” Vision seems to shut the door before either of them would be able to hear you. “Damn it, gotta be fast.” You crack your fingers and roll your neck before teleporting into the van just as they drive away. You cheer a bit once you’re inside causing the two of them to jump. But you can’t help it, teleporting into a moving vehicle is tough, you have to time it all perfectly and it’s just too much work. So getting inside before they moved was something worth cheering over in your book.

“Jesus Christ Y/n! What are you doing here? I thought you were trying to get Peter.”

“Who is this?”

“Oh, hi I’m Y/n.” You hold out your hand for him to shake.

“I’m-”

“Vision, I know, I’m a big fan of you and your wife.” You beam at him before turning to Darcy. “I was looking for Peter but he disappeared last night. I haven’t been able to find him since, thought I’d have luck locating him with some help from the show. But now I see what Wanda’s magic act was for last night.”

“Well, you’re just in time to help me answer all of Visions questions. Take it away man.”

“Are my children safe?”

“That I don’t know.”

“Oh, I just came from your house, they seemed fine.”

“Good, what about that imposter Pietro?”

“Y/n you wanna take this one?”

“Pietro is my boyfriend Peter. Long story short he technically is Pietro just from a different reality. He has the same powers and he had a twin but well, it was reversed there. She was the twin that died.”

“Okay. Who was I before Westview and what are the Avengers?” You let Darcy explain that to him and sit in silence picking at your nails, a nervous habit you’ve picked up. If Peter were here he’d grab you hands to stop you and place kisses to each finger tip while telling you to be nicer to yourself. But what if you couldn’t find Peter now? Where could he have gone? “So, Wanda killed me?” Vision's voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“It’s not that simple, you asked her to do it.”

“Why would I have done that?”

“To save the universe, well half of it.”

“Did it work?”

“It did until the bad guy rewound time and killed you himself. There’s a few extra steps but to sum it up-”

“I came back and died again.”

“And she had to watch.” It’s quiet for a bit while Vision takes in the new information and you start to feel overwhelmed with the topic of death that seems to wrap around you. Your mind gets brought back to your dad and how he’s gone and suddenly it feels like the atmosphere in the truck is trying to suffocate you. 

“I gotta go.” You force out before teleporting back to Wanda’s street. Immediately you’re greeted with Wanda holding Monica up in the sky with her magic. Monica’s trying to tell Wanda that Pietro wasn’t them and you sigh. Of course everywhere you go there’s talk of him but you can’t find him. What else were you expecting this is just like when the two of you first met. You gasp as Monica has a superhero landing. Why didn’t she tell you that she had powers too?

“I lost the person closest to me too. The worst thing I can think of has already happened to me and I can’t change it. I can’t undo it. I can’t control this pain anymore. And I don’t think I want to, because it’s my truth.” Monica's words hit you like a truck and you start to tear up. You need to find Peter soon otherwise you might just lose your mind. All you want is to confide in him and have him tell you that it’s all gonna be okay. When one of Wanda’s neighbors takes her away you run up to Monica.

“Monica! What’re you doing here? Is Jimmy okay?”

“I had to tell Wanda about what Hayward has planned for Vision. Jimmy’s fine, he's with my guys. Did you get brought in with Darcy?”

“No I came in on my own, I was just with Darcy though. She’s fine, she’s with Vision right now coming here.”

“We’ve gotta get Wanda to listen to reason.”

“Yeah, okay let’s go.” The two of you follow behind the two women to the neighbors house. 

“Let’s split up and find a way in.” You nod at Monica and go one way around the house while she goes the other way. You don’t have any luck though and as you’re rounding a corner you spot Peter next to Monica.

“Snoopers gonna snoop.” Monica jumps and turns to look at him and before he can do anything with the hand he raised you show up in front of him and grab his wrist. His eyes go wide at you popping out of a portal in front of him and he seems to freeze in shock.

“Peter, what the hell are you wearing? It’s awful. And what is that, a puka shell necklace?” You reach out to touch it but he grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Don’t touch that sweetheart.” 

“Alright.” You shrug and rip your hand from his strong grip and bring it to your side. This is definitely not your Peter. “Just wondering though,” behind your back you create a small portal and stick your hand through it appearing beside Peter’s head, “what happens if I do this?” You rip the necklace off of his neck and bring your hand back to your body ready to defend yourself if need be.

“God what’s been going on?” Peter looks around him confused until he notices you in front of him for what seems to be the first time even though the two of you were just interacting. “Y/n? What are you doing here baby? It’s dangerous.”

“Yeah well, I’m saving your ass apparently. Must’ve been under some sort of mind control.”You dangle the necklace in front of him before tossing it to the side.

“How’d you know?” Monica steps up to be next to you rather than behind you.

“Peter would never wear a fucking puka shell necklace or hold my wrist that tight anywhere other than in bed.” You shrug at her and turn back to Peter. “Seriously though, what are you wearing? You look like a stoner frat guy babe.”

That’s Peter taglist: @ellaenchanted91​

Peter Taglist: @amourtentiaa​ @simpforquicksilver​ @quickparkers​ @loveyou3000-mcu​ @elaineygrace​