#i will start crying in the middle of class over a ship

[literallymikewheeler]

no no, you dont get it....

i need to IMPLANT this ship into my veins and have it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[kinky-pen]

Do you have any headcanons of the hosts, both SFW and NSFW?

(2/2) ...Actually, when I mean “NSFW” Headcanons for the hosts, don’t include Honey, obviously. Have a couple of random thoughts on all the hosts. Not too much for the SFW, as I recently answered something similar, but a couple of NSFW headcanons for each of them below the cut.

SFW Headcanons

Tamaki

Finally realised he was pansexual in his final year of university, which really should've come sooner. Had a whole, elaborate coming out party, during which Kyoya just yelled inarticulately and stormed off. That's when Tamaki found out his best friend had been in love with him since middle school. (Depending on what you ship - I ship everything - that would be when Tamaki and Kyoya got together)

Haruhi

Finally gets fancy tuna in university. It wasn't the hosts who bought it for her, however, but a classmate who was incredibly thankful for the tutoring Haruhi gave them. Yes, the hosts were all incredibly upset (showing it in their own ways), and it was just a massive headache for Haruhi in general. They did admit it was stupid of them after about a week, though, and apologised.

Kyoya

Started med school in an effort to catch up to his brothers. The subsequent mental breakdown was not worth it, and he dropped out. Took the rest of the year as a gap year and then took the usual business and finance degrees when he got back from his travels. (The new septum piercing was discarded not long after he got back, however, after too many comments from the twins and Akito.

Kaoru

His fashion design degree nearly killed him. He was living on ramen (because it was convenient) and energy drinks for so long, just working on his projects day and night. The other ex-hosts had to host an intervention and make him sleep. He woke up after being dead to the world for nearly 20 hours, and everyone (except med student Kyoya) thinking he'd slipped into a coma.

Hikaru

Conversely to his brother, Hikaru spent a lot of time in university going to parties, especially those held by the chem majors (iykyk). Had a lot of fun, made a lot of friends, and dragged Kaoru with him by his hair more often than he probably should've. It was good stress relief for the both of them, though.

Mori

Very popular at university, in both senses of the word. While Mori's not the type for too many trysts and one night stands, it didn't mean he didn't have a lot of offers. Had a couple of girlfriends, and a few boyfriends, during this time.

Hani

Buckled down during university, in terms of studying, but still retained quite a few of his childish traits. Usa-chan did frequently accompany him to lectures, and was a bit of a hit with the rest of the class. In fact, Usa-chan became the class mascot not too long into first term.

NSFW Headcanons

Tamaki

Versatile. Can go from a good boy whining but taking it like a champ one minute, only to switch up and use that charisma and princely desire to pull one over on his partner (consensually, ofc) the next moment.

It may have been a joke in the beach episode, but this boy is indeed into bondage! Restraints, blindfolds, harnesses. He doesn't mind if he's tying up his partner, or if he's the one being tied up!

When subbing, he loves puppy play. He's just a good boy who needs you to tell him he's a good boy, petting him and rubbing his tummy while giving him treats for being so perfect and precious (whether in a feedist scenario or not). Kinky, stop projecting ffs

Haruhi

A switch, but does prefer topping. You've got to be the right kind of top/dom to get her to step down, basically. I feel like Haruhi's love language is mainly acts of service, with a smattering of words of affirmation, combine beautifully to make a service top who knows what she's doing.

When in full dom mode, she loves total control of her sub. They do as she says, or she'll keep them "in suspense" until they cry. Could certainly be an excellent brat tamer for the right sub, but it depends if she can be bothered to have that much attitude aimed at her. I mainly see the brat tamer dynamic working for HikaHaru, rather than any other ships, though.

Wants to hear her partner come undone, but is happy to use a gag on them if they whimper loud enough for her to hear. Actually kind of enjoys the challenge of trying to make them so loud that the gag doesn't do much of anything.

Kyoya

Kyoya is a sub, a bottom (because they are not mutually exclusive) and a pillow prince, I'll take no criticism at this time, thank you. He just melts in so many kink scenarios where he's told what to do, from being pampered to being tortured. He'll try topping for the right person, if they really wanted him to, but it's much more likely that you'll have a surprisingly needy brat on your hands.

Blindfold him and tell him he's pretty. Worship him with your voice and hands, and make him feel like he's the most precious thing in the world. He'll start crying, I promise, and then you'll get to see cute tearstains on that lovely blindfold. (He loves the feeling of support while being so incredibly vulnerable, it's not something he's had much of before)

He's either so silent when he cums that some partners would barely notice (and proceed to just overstimulate him to the point of multiple orgasms - but he loves that), or the loudest goddamn sub ever. The quietest whimper, or the loudest fucking screaming and begging to cum, absolutely no in-between.

Kaoru

Surprisingly, prefers topping. His act with Hikaru had him as a power bottom (thank you ohshc manga for spelling that out plain as day). I highly doubt he'd want a sub dynamic with someone he actually wants a relationship with (whether romantic or purely sexual), as it'd just make him think of hosting with his brother (ew!)

Though, this boy is still a Hitachiin. Loves humiliation. Will be using your kinks against his partner in order to embarrass them (again, consensually). Think comments like "wow, can't you keep it together? We're practically in public", while doing everything he can to push his partner's buttons.

Kaoru will lick his partner dry when they're done, cleaning them up with nothing but his tongue. As long as he has time on his hands, at least. It's a talented tongue, and half the time it just starts another round off again. How bad, what a shame /s.

Hikaru

Says he's a top, but actually is a bratty power bottom (how the turn tables). He wants to be fucked hard, and if it's not to his liking then he will let his partner know. Teasing, jeering, everything. Loves making whoever he's with pissed off while their fucking him. It just makes it rougher, even more passionate, and he just wants his brains fucked out of his pretty little head.

Bullying kink. Some slight bimbo/stupification leanings, honestly. Wants someone to talk down to him like he's just too stupid to function. They'll get something sharp and snarled in response, but his eyes and erection are begging them to keep pushing. Call him every name under the sun, shove him around, step on his crotch. He'll fight it, duh, but it gets to the point where he's just too turned on and needy to continue, and then he can be fucked to his partner's content.

Wants multiple orgasms (most of the time), and what he wants, he gets. If his partner doesn't get him off enough times before stopping, he will just touch himself until he gets another one or two in. If his dom can't stop him first, that is.

Mori

Service top, gentle dom. If his partner wants him to be any degree of mean, there's going to be a lot of trial and error, as well as a lot of talking about it before hand. It's going to take a while to build up to Mori using his massive strength and such on his partner (but it'll be worth it when he gets there, trust me)

No restraints but his hands and weight. Well, maybe on request, but he wants to pin his partner down himself, using those big hands to pin their wrists, pressing his weight down on them so he can feel every buck and shudder. Why should he let some metal and scraps of fabric do what he takes pleasure in?

His voice goes so deep when he's on the edge of an orgasm, encouraging his partner to just keep going, so good, feels so nice. Deep and breathy, all at once. A quiet guy, but so pretty to hear. He also likes his partner being loud about their own pleasure, does like to try and make them beg a little. He just wants to know they're having a great time.

[pinkpastels113]

Wenclair question.

What would be your ideal scenario for their first kiss?

Do you think Bianca could be a bestie friend of Wednesday?

Do you have a reason that you can't ship Eugene and Enid?

gosh it's been a while since i've watched the series (i plan on rewatching it soon, def before the second season releases, along with starting on the novel which is just collecting dust on my nightstand rn haha) so the exact details of everything are a bit blurry rn but!! hmm let's see let's see...

there are a few scenarios that would make sense for me and make me go absolutely ballistic for their first kiss- in a moment of jealousy where wednesday wants to show enid/someone else that enid is hers and too attractive/good for anyone else, in a moment of relief where enid is so ECSTATIC that wednesday is alive or okay that she doesn't think about what she's doing and just lays a mack on wednesday's lips, after a romantic gesture from wednessday's part bc she takes after her father and is a deep romantic at heart, OR in a moment of reassurance where enid is crying after a breakup or something where she feels like shit and unloveable and weird and wednesday is like "you're being foolish, i think you are perfectly odd" and enid is like "huh" and looks up and wednesday is kissing her

hmmm i think besides enid, wednesday is more of a loner but bianca can be a close friend! that wednesday can talk to and banter sarcastic comments with when enid is not available! when they get over their initial tension with each other lmao

just bc i think wednesday and enid has more chemistry and bc enid hasn't really had any outstanding interactions with eugene? if memory serves me. also i don't think she reflected eugene's feelings back and kinda see him as more of a friend. imo eugene's crush on her is kind of a puppy love, like that one time you had a crush on a popular girl in school bc she was pretty and has a lot of friends and unlike everyone else she is nice to you/everyone and you kinda get attached after one passing interaction in the halls or in a class or something? if that makes sense. bc i know i had one of those crushes in middle/high school

[rzyraffek]

Imagine slasher going on his classing killng spree but he see kid treated badly/kid being sad. Its pure platonic

Slasher trying to comfort kid

'Trying' but hes are very akward. There is dailogue and its colored: slashers the kid . The ghostface one is funny while yautja is more cute! she/her pronouns Requests open

Ghostface

He was in silly goofy ah mood, so he went on killing spree (again)

It was some funny party with a lot of drunk teens and loud music

Kids older sibling probably did a party and she got scared of loud music and went crying in her room

After killing some people ghosty need a breather and just went into random room to clean his knife or something (idk i never been on killing spree)

And he just goes into this room and sees some kid crying their eyes off. "Uhhh what is kid doing here? I thoght im irresponsible but-" he got cut of by kid crying/venting how the people downstairs where mean and making fun of her :(

"Zamn kid thats though.. anyways idc cya" in fact he doest not care, police will be there in like 10min he doesnt have time to some child venting in general pls."are you going to kill me mr ghosty :( " "ayo you calm yourself down, aint no way in hell im killinng a kid"

He wont kill her ofcofc (reason? No reason t all :) )

After all killing spree stuff police still didnt come (either nooone called it or its American police so they are riding from difrent state or something) he will go check up on her, yknow if shes still crying :(

"Uhhh yep shes still crying ehhh do you want tea or something?" *nods* "god zamn Im a babysit now apearently"

Ghosty will probably smoke or something (babysitting kid is stressful) "my sister says that guests cant smoke inside :( " "yo sister dead(it is a joke he did not say that maybe he did say that )"

He wont let her go downstairs? Theres litteral crime scene over there?? Yall ever wached any movie?? This trauma would be start of her revange arc or something

Yaujta

???why is there human puppy randomly alone in middle of nowhere???

"Uhhh em child? Where are your human perents" ":( they said I should wait here" "uhhh *looks around* wh when did they leave you???" " it was morning when we went here" "uhhh its afternoon"

He cant just leave her here come one

But his place on earth is temorary he cant Just take her to ship

He will try to find her perents but it doesnt work he will take her TOTALY temporary to his ship and give her some food

Even if hr would find her perents, he woundnt be very pleased of what he sees, they clearly dont want her and they indeed try to abandon her

Turns out he accidently got attached and adopted her

Will melt if she will call him "alien/space dad" its so cute!

(I used x reader tags just to reach bigger audience, nothng sus happening here)

[half-dead-ham]

I've waited this long

Day two of Shipweek is Soulmates! And so I offer the masses a humble Roy Harper/Danny Fenton ship, so rare they don't even have a ship name yet! Upon the offer of one, I may be tempted to make more of this ship, they are a match made in hell imo. ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

here's: [Ao3]

Despite how much Danny’s parents invest in the scientific method, they were never one’s to believe in things like ‘fate’ or ‘destiny’. They stood by their ideals that ghosts were real but soulmates were things people imagined so much a market grew for it, despite forty per-cent of the population having one.

 So of course the first thing Danny’s parents did when Danny showed off the white ring he got on his left middle finger was tell him to take it off.

 He told them he couldn’t, of course. Danny didn’t know what soulmates even were, he was only four. When he asked them why, they thought he was playing a prank. They tried to take it off his finger by force, but of course it wouldn't budge. They ran tests and did experiments and theorized and hypothesized and hummed and hawed until they were pulling their hair out.

 And still the ring would not leave little Danny Fenton’s finger.

 They finally settled on Danny having some sort of allergic reaction with the metal and surrounding samples of ectoplasm bonding the ring to his finger temporarily and told him to test it every once in a while to see if it came off.

 And then they forgot about it.

 Jazz found Danny later, curled up and crying on his bed after the whole ordeal. She comforted him, told him what the ring actually was, and said that if he ever did find his soulmate that he shouldn’t bring it up to his parents. He silently agreed, then drifted to sleep in her arms.

~~~~~

    Stupid idiot. Stupid Danny. Why did you follow Rory into a city you didn’t have the map for?

 Danny kicked a crumpled can along the sidewalk, watching it skitter along the pavement as he tried to remember which street he had turned from. He honestly didn’t even want to be here, in a city so far from Amity and his parents, it wasn’t his idea to sign him up for the end-of-school field trip; it was Jazz’s. Danny would rather be back in Amity Park, playing DOOMED with Tucker while they figure out what classes they were most likely to have together in high school.

 Instead he was lost in a city he’d never been to, thanks to his free time buddy, Rory, leading him around after stealing his phone and stranding him without the map they were given. Jackass.

 Another kick to the can sent Danny’s current stress relief straight into a storm drain. Danny froze, staring at the spot it had disappeared, before letting out a sound that was half growl, half groan. Stomping back on his original path, Danny sneered at his sneakers. He was going to murder Rory over this, there were enough tools in their stupid basement for Danny to beat that stupid smirk off that ass and- “Oof!”

 Danny staggered back a step, clutching his nose as he blinked up at what- who- he had bumped into.

 Concerned jade eyes met his lake blue as a boy slightly taller than him rushed to grab his shoulders and stabilize him. He froze, deer-in-the-headlights style as the stranger swept his eyes over the rest of Danny to make sure nothing was damaged.

 “You okay?” The other asked, jolting Danny out of his daze.

 “Uh, yeah, of course!” Danny squeaked out, feeling a small embarrassed flush warm his face.

 The stranger looked down slightly, to Danny’s confusion. He quickly realized he still has his hand over his face like an idiot.

 “Ope- yeah totally okay!” Danny quickly tore his hand away from his face in further embarrassment, really hoping he was right in not feeling any signs to the start of a nosebleed. Just to make sure, he checked his palm, giving a small sigh of relief at not seeing any red, just some light pink on his finger… Wait-

 He spun his hand around, making sure to check if his ring really had turned pink.

 “Holy shit,” the guy in front of him whispered, and looking up Danny could see him inspecting his own pink ring. Maybe he should thank Rory instead of murdering him, the guy led him to his soulmate after all.

 The guy- his soulmate oh god he needed to tell Jazz- looked up to him, stunned and a little awestruck. Danny, for lack of anything else to do, stuck his hand out with a goofy grin as he introduced himself.

 “Hey, my name’s Danny; Danny Fenton. Looks like you’re my soulmate.”

 ∆•∆•∆•∆

 So as it turned out, the guy -Roy was his name- was a Star city native. After they made their introductions Danny asked if Roy knew the way back to his hotel. Roy gave him the most confused look he’d seen on him (yet) and told him that he’d almost made it to a completely different part of the city, and “why the fuck are you in the south side to begin with?” And, well Danny sheepishly explained his situation as they started walking the right way back.

 While Roy didn’t say much to his explanation, the brilliant vermillion Danny’s ring turned probably meant that he and his soulmate had the same thoughts about Rory at the moment.

 It was nearing supper time by the time Danny and Roy made it back to the hotel, and Roy was unfortunately witness to the rant Danny’s teacher went on about “Staying with his buddy” and “not following strangers in a large city”. As soon as Roy held their rings up she redacted her last statement with a click of her jaw. Roy then proceeded to explain to Ms. Montal about how Danny’s “buddy” left him stranded in a different part of the city without his phone, and how if Roy hadn’t found him that she might’ve had to resort to calling the police and explain how unsafe it was to have kids running around the city unsupervised.

 Yeah, Danny was definitely glad Roy was with him at that moment. The nice shade of red that tinted Ms. Montal’s face -either in embarrassment over being so thoroughly called out by someone the same age as her students, or seething rage- had Danny moving a hand over his mouth to muffle his suppressed laughter. He didn’t know if it was any help, if the glare that could melt steel he got from his teacher was any indication.

 After they got to watch the lovely conversation Rory had with their teacher for leaving Danny behind, he asked if Roy wanted to come up to his room to talk some more after they had supper. Roy refused, saying he had somewhere to get to and the dinner was already pushing his time into the ‘late’ category. He asked if there was any good time for them to meet up the next day, but again their schedules didn’t line up. Roy asked about the day after, but they couldn't meet then, as tomorrow was their last day in the city.

 Danny stared at his shoes, at a loss for what to do. He really wanted to spend more time with his soulmate now that they’ve met, especially when Roy had so many stories about his mentor/foster father and his screw ups.

 “Well, you have a phone right?” Roy asked. When he nodded Roy’s face split into a grin. “Then you can just give me your number!”

 They ended up trading both phone numbers and emails, just in case. Apparently Roy had just as much of a chance to break or lose his phone as Danny did.

 With one last wave, Roy walked back the way they had come, the light of the dying sun setting his red hair ablaze. With how far apart they lived, Danny wondered if they would ever get to see each other again face-to-face.

 He hoped they would.

~~~~~

  Star City

 August 28th 2006,

15:07 PDT

 While getting a ride back from Oliver's house Roy felt something. He didn’t know what that something was exactly, but it felt like someone just hit him with a live wire and dunked him in a bath of hydrogen peroxide.

 It hurt.

 It hurt like someone haddunked him in acid, slammed him into an electric fence then gave him a million paper cuts and bathed him in lemon juice. It hurt so much he screamed and blacked out.

 Apparently it hurt so much for Oliver to pull the car over, because the next time he could see clearly he was leaning up against the side of the car on the pavement. Olliver was in front of him, worry clear on his face. He blinked as his mentor fretted over him, thoughts not really deeper than ‘god that hurt like a bitch���. 

 A light wind brushed his cheek and the cold stuck in tracks down to his chin. Absently, he brought his hand to his face, feeling the damp trails that led to his chin. Was he crying? He groaned, twitching with aftershocks and trying to think about anything other than the feeling of full body pins and needles he had.

 “Roy,” his mentor called, voice shaken. Why was the Green Arrow so shaken over what just happened?

 Roy looked to his mentor, only to find that Oliver was looking at the hand he had raised to his cheek. Dread settling in his stomach, Roy shakily lifted his hand up.

 The band around his middle finger was charcoal black.

 It felt like someone had just squeezed all the air out of his lungs. It couldn’t- no. Danny was fine.  They had just talked yesterday, he couldn’t be dead! There was no way Danny could have died, it was impossible.

 Roy was shaking now, for a completely different reason than the pain he just felt. He jerkily grabbed the ring between two fingers, desperately trying to- to- to do something! Either to rub the dirt (it was just dirt it had to be Danny couldn’t be dead) or keep the piece of jewelry from crumbling off his finger. It still felt solid, despite its colour being the exact color soul rings turn when a person’s soulmate dies. 

 Desperately he looked to Oliver. He was the adult here, he should know what to do, right? 

 But the stare Roy got back from his mentor was one full of grief and sadness, not the look he got when he was able to help, just loss. Roy’s lungs weren’t drawing in breath. His hand went from his ring to his phone, ripping it out of his pants pocket and dialling the one number he needed to pick up right now. Please Danny please pick up.

 The Dial tone rang once, twice, thrice. The whole time Roy repeated please pick up please pick up please pick up in his head, eyes never leaving the black band on his finger.

 “Roy?” Danny’s voice rasped through the receiver and Roy’s lungs finally caught breath.

 “Holy fuck Danny, are you okay? What happened‽” Roy nearly screamed into the phone, to Oliver's clear shock as he looked between the still black band and the cellphone in Roy’s hand.

 “Nothing,” Danny groaned, clearly still in pain. “I just got a small shock from one of my parents' inventions.”

 “Bullshit,” Roy shot back. “If you call what you got a ‘small shock’ then where the fuck did the police TAZER shoot me from?”

 Another groan from the other end of the line, along with the sounds of hushed voices that he couldn’t make out. Rustling fabric and soft footsteps was all that he listened to for what he thought was too long until Danny spoke up again.

 “Look, I don’t really know what to tell you right now, Roy… I just feel like I got hit by a train and everything’s still kinda…” Danny trails off for a moment, making Roy worry that he passed out or something, but a sigh fills the call with static and then Danny’s back. “I just really need a bit to not feel like shit now, Roy. You think I can call you back tomorrow? We can talk more then.”

 Was- wh- is Danny really just brushing all that pain off? Like it was nothing?? Like ‘oh, of course Danny, all you need is a little sleep and you’ll be good to go tomorrow!’ Fuck no, thats not how this works!

 Another grunt of pain makes its way through the line, and Roy sighs. ‘Danny is alive,’ he reminds himself, ‘and he’ll still be alive then he wakes up tomorrow’. Even while thinking it the words sound like a lie. The band around his finger is still black. Logically Danny shouldn’t be talking with him at all, he shouldn’t have been able to pick up the call. A small voice in the back of his brain whispers to him, ‘Someone got to him, someone who wanted to use him to get to Green Arrow. That isn’t Danny on the phone, it's a fake’. It's a part he’s afraid to prove right.

 “Sure, Danny. Just- just tell me one thing right now, okay?” He’s practically begging his soulmate -who he thinks is his soulmate- as his voice grows dry. A grunt was all he got in reply.

 “What color is my ring right now?”

~~~~~

 Star City general hospital

 November 12th 2007,

15:07 PDT

 Danny is dead, for real this time.

 Roy doesn’t know when it happened, he’d been taken by Luthor and his goons for the last three months and the whole experience was a bit of a blur, but sometime during that Danny's ring finally crumbled off his finger.

 He sat in the hospital bed, refusing to acknowledge the tears coming from his eyes as he stared at his bare finger. ‘I should’ve been there for him, I should have made sure he was okay.’ His thoughts spiraled as he wished, begged, for the ring to magically reappear on his finger. He prayed to every higher power he could think of to bring Danny back. Just one more day with his stupid texts, his long rants about the stars, his anything. He’d give the world to hear his soulmate's voice again.

 A knock on the hospital room door had him scrambling to wipe his face of tears and clear his voice as quietly as he could.

 “Come in,” he tried not to croak. He could tell it was Ollie as soon as he opened the door, but still he didn’t turn his head.

 “Roy…” His mentor didn’t know what to say either, he almost wanted to scoff. Of course the old man didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know the first thing about having a soulmate. In the end it was something he had to deal with himself.

 They stayed there, silence choking them like a snake coiling around its prey. Roy really didn’t want his old man to see how bad he was taking it, and his old man couldn’t console him for the gaping emptiness he was feeling. So they just did nothing, frozen like a picture in time.

 Finally, a sigh escaped the man behind Roy. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find you sooner,” he murmured out. He sounded so broken. And still Roy didn’t turn to face him, he just struggled and failed to keep a sob from escaping him.

 That day Roy told himself to keep the memories he had of Danny close to him, and to never speak about him to anyone again.

~~~~~

Star City

January  19th 2011,

21:25 PDT

 ‘Everything… Was a lie. Everything I knew about myself isn’t real. I was just a pawn, a chess piece for someone else's game.’

 Vandal Savage, that asshole.

Roy (was he even really Roy if he was just a replacement?) was in… not his room. It was Roy’s room in Ollie’s place. It was dark, he didn’t bother to turn the light on when he came in and was just watching the lights of the city from out his window.

 What… What should he do now? He can’t just go on living somebody else's life now that he knows it isn’t his own. That would be wrong, and fucked up even for him.

 But Guardian, he had said that the light didn’t have the real Roy. If the light didn’t actually have him, then where was he? He refused to believe the real Roy was actually dead, those fuckers wouldn’t kill him off after cloning him. It was too easy, to just dispose of a chess piece that still has use? No, they wouldn’t do that…

 Right?

 He stood up and walked to the window, tracing the lights of cars criss-crossing along the roads like lines of ants.

 No. No, he refused to believe the real Roy was dead. He couldn’t be, he would eat his bow before he believed the real Roy wasn’t still out there.

 And Roy was, he would find him.

~~~~~

Washington D. C.

March 8th 2011,

21:07 EDT

Today's search with Jim was a bust, a complete waste of time. Even with the new tech provided by the league, the Wayne Ecogram unit told them the exact same thing as what we already found the last dozen times we went down there. Nothing. Not a scrap or clue or anything.

 He layed in bed on his stomach as he groused over the day. He could still feel that Roy was alive somewhere, like an itch just under his skin. It was telling him to keep searching, look, find him but people were starting to lose faith.

 He was just so tired. He hadn’t moved in hours since he got back, just thinking over what little they knew of what happened. He turned his head so he could see out of the window. The lights still shone from the city outside, people going on with their nights- with their lives- while he was stuck watching as time marched forward mockingly. His neck protested the movement, muscles sore from overwork and the strain of being still for hours making itself known as he finally moved to haul himself into a sitting position.

 On a brighter note, Jim had his lab work come back. They were in the same boat now, both being cloned from the same guy. Though somehow he still felt like they weren’t on the same page.

 Jim already had his own identity, his own self built personality. He wasn’t meant to be a copy of someone, a replacement. No, Jim wasn’t aware of the feeling of getting the rug ripped out from under your feet because you find out (in the worst way possible) that the life you’d been living, the fucking name you used, wasn’t your own. He was blissfully unaware of how that sucker punch to the gut felt, and so it left him alone even with someone like him to understand.

 And he was just. So. Tired.

 But he couldn’t rest.

~~~~~

Star City

November 9th 2011,

17:22 PST

 Ten months.

 It has been ten months since this search had started for the real Roy, and not even the Bats have found anything. The League has resorted to tailing Luthor on rotation for any clues, but they’ve started asking why they were still trying.

 ‘Roy’ had pulled Robin away to Star City with him, so they could go through the original Roy's things. He honestly hadn’t bothered to touch most of the older things in Roy’s room, he was too focused on the mission at the time to care for whatever little civilian interaction he had kept for convenience. It had taken some convincing, but Robin at least saw how hard he was working.

 “Dude, when was the last time you checked your inbox?” The Boy Wonder asked as he scrolled through old emails and spam on a laptop he had found buried under a clothes pile.

 “A while,” he drawled sarcastically as he searched an old box of trick arrowheads. Honestly why did he even have these in here?

 Robin continued to scroll as he quickly lost interest with the box, shoving it off his lap in frustration and moved to pick through the bottom of Roy’s closet. Quiet settled for a while, with only the occasional sounds of ‘Roy’s grunting and the clicking of the laptops trackpad keys.

 “Hey Roy…” He turned to look at the Boy Wonder as he read something from the laptop, eyebrows scrunched together behind his pointless sunglasses. “Since when did you have a soulmate?”

 The question struck him like an arrow to the heart, making him straighten where he sat. He had almost forgotten by now that he- Roy- had had a soulmate before he went missing. A wave of sadness washed over him as he realised Roy would never be able to see Danny again.

 “I don’t,” he replied softly, unsure of how to feel over those memories. “Danny died sometime while I was kidnapped by Luthor, I didn’t know about it until I was in the hospital.”

 “Who told you that?” Robin asked cautiously, eyes going back and forth from the screen to his face.

 “I…” He… couldn’t remember. He could’ve sworn it was Ollie, but he couldn’t remember having the conversation- with anyone. Just the immense feeling of loss afterwards. But it was something so important to him- to Roy- why couldn’t he remember? “Why?” He asked instead, “what did you find on there?”

 Robin just shuffled up the bed some, making space for him to sit down beside him. At first he didn’t understand what he was looking at, just a short message from Danny; nothing too personal, just saying something about him being worried over him and asking to get in touch when he could. It read like one of their old conversations they would have before Luthor got him, so why was Robin showing him this?

 “Look at the date it was sent,” Robin instructed, pointing to the little bar showing when the email was sent. His eyes grew to saucer size when he realized why it was of interest.

 “September eighth, 2009?” He mumbled out dazedly. The email was sent over two years after  he died? That didn’t make any sense, why would someone use Danny’s old email just to send him something like this?

 “Who told you your soulmate was dead, Roy?” Robin asked again, and he realized that he didn’t have an answer. No one had told him that Danny was dead, he just remembered it.

 “N-no one… I just remember that he died while…” The realization hit harder than Superman, knocking the air from his lungs and leaving the Boy Wonder to finish his thought for him.

 “You just remember that he had died while you were with CADMUS. You never thought to check your sources because you thought you just lost him, but maybe you should look into that now.”

 He could only nod in agreement as he reread the email over and over again.

~~~~~

Amity Park, Il

December 12th 2011,

11:27 CST

‘Roy’ knocked on the door of the townhouse that could hold the answers he needed to find the real Roy. He looked up, tilting his head at the chrome UFO stationed precariously on the roof of the building. Something told him that the Drs. Fenton did not have a permit for that thing, but from what he could remember of his -Roy’s- conversations with Danny, there wasn’t a government that could really stop the Fentons from doing what they wanted. Still, someone had to have tried, right?

 Robin was probably looking into it from where they parked up the road, along with whatever permits they needed to keep that thing that had just pulled out of the driveway from being impounded and torn for scrap.

 His head snapped back to the door as it opened, revealing- oh god.

 Danny was definitely taller than he remembered, paler too. His original’s soulmate now stood a head taller than he did, which when he was over six foot was saying something, with lean arms running up into a baggy t-shirt, no doubt hiding more lean muscle underneath. Maybe he did track or swim in high school? He was still Danny though, the same guy Roy met all those years ago when he was still trying to make Ollie take him on as an apprentice after his parents died. The same kid he helped get back to his school group and the kid he almost punched someone over.

 God, he missed Danny.

 Eyes a much brighter blue than he remembered widened so much it looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets, he almost wanted to laugh before they narrowed, zeroing in on where he knew he had his hands. Danny looked from his hand to his face -which he kept carefully neutral- before sighing, leaning himself against the frame of the door with a silent curse.

 “Please tell me Vlad didn’t make you,” he asked, looking even more tired than when he opened the door.

 “Whose Vlad?” He responded, twisting his face in confusion. Danny gave him a long, hard look. Neither of them blinked, and he was starting to get worried as to whether or not Danny would actually talk to him.

 Finally, with a sigh Danny turned to walk inside, leaving the door open for him to walk in. “No one,” he grumbled before he trudged into the living room. “Let's chat, clone boy.”

 ∆•∆•∆•∆

 When Danny had asked if anyone knew they were meeting, he hadn’t expected for him to ask to go get Robin from the car for the conversation. “My parents will be out for a while, they got a signal from the other side of town. Might as well take this chance,” he said to brush off the Boy Wonder’s concerns of them having their chat in the living room.

 “So,” Danny started as he clapped his hands together. “Since you haven’t attacked me yet, we can start with your names.”

 “You can call me Rob,” Robin said from the seat next to him.

 “Roy,” he reluctantly gave, to which Danny shook his head looking disappointed.

 “Nope, try again. I asked for your name, not the name of the guy you were cloned from.” Robin stiffened at the mention of the real Roy, having not yet been told about Danny’s earlier comment.

 “How do you know that?” The Boy Wonder questioned, falling into his mentor's way of interrogating.

 Danny just snorted, “You think I don’t know my own soulmate when I see him? This guy isn’t him; I know ‘cause you can’t clone a soul ring.” He held up his left hand, showing the grey band on his middle finger. A jolt of relief surged through him, the ring wasn’t black, Roy was alive!

 “And how are you so sure of that?” Robin prodded, keeping the conversation on track for the two of them so he could have his validation in peace.

 “Wouldn’t you like to know, waterboy,” Danny quoted at Robin before turning back to him. “So, do you have a name yet or do we need to think of one?”

 The question was asked with a tone so soft he thought Danny thought he might break at the suggestion. It was kind, just as kind as he remembered Danny to be. He glanced at Robin before looking at his own hands, uncertain.

 “I… I don’t- I haven’t thought of one yet,” he stuttered, feeling suddenly far too vulnerable. He didn’t want to look up at his originals’ soulmate's face, scared of what he’d see. Funny how he could face world ending threats and yet this civilian from some small ass town in the midwest was the thing that scared him more.

 He heard Danny shift from in front of him as he spoke, “Alright.” The word was spoken so gently he had to look up, just to see if he meant it like that. Pools of ice froze the breath in his lungs as he stared at an expression so full of melancholy. Fuck, why is Danny looking at him like that? Why is he looking at him like he’s seen what he’d done -what he is- and understands?

 Danny is just a civilian, isn’t he?

 Their stare broke as Danny looked to Robin. “So, if you aren’t here ‘cause of Amity’s problems or Vlad, what are you here for?”

 Robin was about to answer, but he cut him off. “We need your help.”

 Those icy-blues turned back to him with a tilt of his head. “Help? What help can I give you?”

 He swallowed, mouth dry, “We need to know anything you know about Roy- the real Roy. It might be a stretch but we’re running out of options.”

 “And why do you think I know anything about where he is when nobody’s told me anything about what you’ve been doing for the last five years?” Danny’s eyes glanced between the two heroes before him. “I mean, I know he’s not dead. I’ve checked more than a few times to make sure. And since I’m pretty sure he’s in the living world I can’t help you magically find him.”

 “Living world?” Robin asked before either of them had the chance to decipher what that could mean.

 Danny looked between the two across from him, face twisted in utter confusion. “You mean after all this time, even when I have two of the Justice league Juniors here-” he lifted his hand to stop whatever denials Robin was going to try to start. “-Yes I know you work with the Justice League, I’d be stupid not to know who works with the ignorant Super Friends when they’ve been ignoring every call for help we’ve sent. You also work in such a similar occupation to the town hero to have been cloned, but that's not the point. The point is, you came to Amity Park, the most haunted place on earth- to Fentonworks- and you haven’t done your research?”

 Silence filled the room as the two heroes looked at each other. What do they even say to that? Apparently Robin knew, as he looked back to Danny, sitting his elbows on his knees and steepling his fingers over his mouth.

 “How about we all start from the beginning?”

 ∆•∆•∆•∆

 So.

 Ghosts are apparently real. That was not something he expected to have confirmed today. Robin looked to be in a similar state of shock, though the bat-poker face kept his expression level for anyone not used to their microexpressions. Danny had a similar look of contemplation, though much less surprised.

 “So let me get this straight. You-” Danny pointed to him, “-were created five years ago by an evil extension of the American government with funding by an evil-er billionaire. You took Roy’s place so you could make it to the big leagues so that this evil billionaire and his evil friends could gain control of said big leagues. Because Roy had a soul ring and you don’t, they gave you the implanted memory of me dying so you wouldn’t think to check in on me and accidentally throw off your mission. You succeeded in getting control of the Justice League, found out you were actually a clone, then promised to find your original. Now you’re here because you're running out of ways to find him. Did I get all that right?”

 The two heroes nodded dumbly, before Robin piped up. “And let's see if I get what you’re telling us.”

 Danny nodded as Robin took a breath. “So. Ghosts are real. Your town has been dealing with ghosts for the last six years without help from the Justice League because you stopped trying to call for help after year three. Your town hero has fought world destroying beings and gods and no one ever noticed. Five years ago was the last time you heard from Roy, but you know he’s alive because A. You’ve tried looking for him in the literal realm of the dead, and B. Your soul ring hasn't gone black and crumbled yet. Did I miss anything?”

 “You forgot the part where the whole town basically has a bone to pick with the league now ‘cause they never even answered our calls, and the secret government facility trying to capture and experiment on anything with even an ounce of ectoplasm in their systems with a base right outside the town limits.”

 Robin took in another breath and held it. “Right, that too,” he squeaked out.

 Looking back to Danny, he tried to examine him more than he could at the door. Eyebags so deep you could sleep in them, musculature suited for dodging and running, rather than brute strength, faint scarring crisscrossing both arms reaching as far as his collarbones.

 “You fight them,” he realized.

 Danny shrugged, “When I have to, yeah. You won’t find many people in Amity that don’t have these kinds of scars. Even the kids have a few good scrapes here and there.” He looked down then, eyes following the paths his scars made with an expression of someone who’d seen too much for his age. The same kind of look he knew greeted the Team whenever one of them looked in the mirror.

 Heavy silence engulfed the living room as the two heroes tried to come up with something to say to this civilian, to console or apologize or to rectify years of neglect- something. But there was no excuse for this. For what the whole town -for what Danny- had to go through, no words were enough to make that right.

 It wasn’t his place to apologize anyway.

 Instead he stood up, Robin following quickly after. “Well, this was enlightening in more ways than one, but since you can’t tell us where Roy is we have to go find answers somewhere else.” He remarked with no heat, he couldn’t even find it in him to sass.

 He was so hopeful that this would give them something, anything more than just to prove that the real Roy was alive. They found that out, at least, but no clue as to where Luthor might have hidden him. This was their last real lead, even if it was a longshot.

 A noise from behind them had him turning to see Danny following them. “Now where do you think you’re going?” Danny asked them.

 “Back? We need to track down more leads or nothing will be done,” he replied.

 “We also need to report the situation in your town. This was a major oversight, and it needs to be rectified,” Robin added on.

 “Not without me you’re not,” Danny said as he crossed his arms.

 He gave Robin a look of confusion as Danny continued. “I’ve waited this long to hear something about my soulmate and you think I’ll stay put when you tell me he needs help? Fat chance of that.”

 “It’s too dangerous for a civilian,” Robin tried to argue. “If we do find him he’ll be surrounded by highly trained guards. It would devastate Roy if he came back and you weren’t there.”

 “That’s why I’m going,” Danny argued back. “And who said anything about me being a civilian?”

 Before either of them could ask a bright light sprung from Danny's waist, splitting in two and crossing his body. Where the light passed Danny changed, from a t-shirt and jeans to padded cloth and armor. Green eyes stared at them under ethereal snow white hair, accented by a sharp smile.

 “Meet the town hero,” Danny quipped in a voice of static and screams.

~~~~~

Tibet

February 14th 2013,

02:01 BT

 “Your source better not be wrong, Phantom,” Will hissed at the half-ghost as he crouched behind the outer wall of a League of Assassins base.

 “Trust me Will, Dani knows better than to joke about something this serious,” Danny whispered back, scoping the place out from the inside just to make sure. Dani knew how serious this was, sure, but Danny said he still needed to see it with his own eyes.

 It had been a little over two years since Danny had joined Will on his search for his template. Another two years of searching for someone the rest of the League thought was dead, even if the evidence to the contrary wrapped around Danny’s finger. Even Dick and Jim, the two who had held out the longest, had turned their backs on the search. Now it was just him and Danny, and Danny’s clone whenever she decided to give them a lead with a call.

 “One more door,” Danny murmured through the comms. “This door is even more heavily guarded than the others, think this is the one Dani was talking about.”

 It was quiet for a few seconds as Danny bypassed the guards and the door, and the silence stretched longer than Will thought acceptable. “Phantom?” He asked through the line.

 A rough breath enhanced the light static that never seemed to go away with Phantom on comm. It was shaky, and Danny didn’t need to breathe in his ghost form. “Did you find something?” Will asked urgently.

 “It's him,” Danny croaked, before putting a little more force in his words. “It’s him, Will. We found him.”

 Will has wanted to hear those words for the last three years. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry, he wanted to scream and dance and hug someone. They found him. After three long years they found him.

 Now they just had to get him out of there.

 “Pull back, Phantom,” he ordered. “We’ll have a better time of extracting him if we get rid of the obstacles in the way first.”

 “On it,” Danny responded. Will readied his trick arrows.

~~~~~

 Danny was reading when Roy woke up. He came to slowly, looking around the room first -checking for possible exit strategies- before his eyes fell on Danny. Danny could see a spark of recognition flash by before his face twisted in confusion. He glanced at his ring, then Danny, then did a double take at his lack of right arm. Panic rose in his face, so Danny put his hand over Roy’s, dragging his soulmate’s attention from his amputated limb back to Danny.

 “I know you want to freak out, but how ‘bout we explain a few things first, okay?” He suggested softly, to which Roy shakily agreed.

 With his other hand Danny snatched up his phone, sending a text to Will that Roy was awake. He ran into the room not five minutes later, followed by Oliver Queen, Roy’s mentor and -to Danny’s not so recent knowledge- Green Arrow. Ollie looked almost like he wanted to cry. Will just looked relieved, Danny could sympathize.

 He’s waited too long for this reunion.

 “Great, the whole gang’s here,” Roy quipped, drawing Danny’s attention back to him. “Now can someone tell me why Danny’s here, why there’s another me, and where the hell my arm went‽”

 Will and Ollie glanced at each other in uncertainty, unsure of where to start and how to let him know gently that he’s been asleep for six years. Danny scoffed, rolling his eyes as he gave Roy’s hand a pat and stood up to be next to the other two heroes.

 “Cowards,” he hissed at them before turning to face Roy, who was looking more than a little lost. “Well Roy, It's nice to finally see you again, now buckle up ‘cause this is one hell of a story.”

 ∆•∆•∆•∆

 Danny watched as the other two left the room, before turning back to Roy. For all intents and purposes he looked like a confused teenager that had just been told he was replaced for six years, but the ring on Danny’s finger was blazing with something hotter than confusion and loss.

 “I said I wanted some time alone, Danny,” Roy ground out. His acting was so clear Danny let a chuckle escape his throat as he sat back in his chair.

 “No luck Roy, I’m not leaving you this time.” A glare was shot his way from the boy on the bed, he brushed it off easily with a smile. “I’ve waited this long to be with you again, you really think I’ll leave you alone so you can ghost me?”

 Roy sneered, dropping the act entirely in favour of a glare so strong it would make Vlad quiver in his boots. “You can’t keep me here, not when Luthor needs a beating.”

 “Keep you here?” Danny chuckled, “who said anything about keeping you here? I want to go with you. If I can’t stop you from leaving I can at least make sure you don’t get yourself in another mess you can't get yourself out of.”

 Roy cocked his head, dropping the glare in favour of a confused look. “Danny, not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment, but you really think you can keep up?”

 Danny looked his soulmate over before he gave a sharp grin, exposing his fangs as he flashed his eyes to green. “If I could keep up with you but older for three years, I can keep up with you for as long as I want.”

 Only the book Danny was reading greeted Will and Ollie when they made their way back to the recovery room.

[lavenderlegends]

Okay but "you can hear it in the silence" is DEREK "you are in love" HALE (I guess sterek lol)

you are in love

stiles/derek word count: 4.5k ships mentioned: boyd/erica, lydia/allison, kira/malia characters: stiles, derek, isaac, boyd, erica, lydia, kira, jackson, scott cw: drinking, weed, implied physical abuse, Stiles thinks he's in love with Erica lol

ao3

♞♚♞♚

"I don't really understand," Stiles complains, stretching his legs out across Erica's.

There's a beat. Derek's heart aches.

"What's there to understand?" Erica asks, putting her hands on Stiles' legs. She tugs them in closer to her. "I'm going to marry him one day."

"But first off, you don't talk to each other," Stiles says, shaking his head. "And secondly, Boyd doesn't talk. To anyone."

"He talks to me," Erica says, smugly. "Isn't that right, Derek?"

"Hm?" Derek says, as if he's absentmindedly paying attention and not studying the way Stiles' lips move. "Yeah. He does."

"Okay, well, whatever. I've seen him hanging around Lydia's ex, Jackson." Stiles frowns. "And you know Jackson is bad news."

"He's really not," Lydia mutters, not looking up from her phone.

Derek shifts on the grass. He wants to tune out of this pointless conversation. Everyone here knows that if Erica wants to marry Boyd, she'll probably do just that and marry the guy. But Stiles loves to imagine that Erica’s secretly in love with him and has been since high school. He finally got over Lydia only to get hung up on Erica.

Stiles just loves love, even if he pretends to hate it.

Derek knows this, and often wonders why Stiles can’t see what’s sitting right in front of him. Derek. The guy who has been in love with Stiles since they were about twelve years old. The guy who has never wavered in their friendship, even when Stiles makes it nearly impossible sometimes. The guy who showed up when Stiles’ mom was dying, and the guy who showed up when Danny turned him down for a ‘virginity pact’ and left Stiles crying in the locker room.

But no. Stiles doesn’t see Derek in that way, and that’s fine. It has to be fine. Derek would rather Stiles be in his life than out of it.

“C’mon, the guy cheated on you!” Stiles argues with Lydia now.

“He was going through a sexuality crisis! In high school!” Lydia counters. “If anything, Erica, you should be glad that Boyd has a friend like Jackson. He went from hating his queerness to running the college queer centre. He wouldn’t keep awful company.”

“That’s a great point, Lyds,” Erica says, beaming. She turns back to Stiles. “You’re just worried that Boyd won’t understand that I’m trans, and that he’ll break my heart like every other cis boy out there.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Erica. You’re, like, obsessing over this guy. And he doesn’t even talk!”

“He does too!” Erica gently shoves Stiles’ legs off her. “And if you don’t want to be a supportive friend, then the least you can do is shut up.”

Erica gives Lydia a look and silently, the two of them start packing their things.

“Wait, what just happened?” Stiles asks.

“You were an asshole,” Lydia tells him, her tone dry. Erica stands up and walks away without a word. Lydia pauses to add, “I know you’re all hung up on Erica right now, but maybe don’t bash the guy she likes. It’s not a good look.”

Then Lydia trails after Erica.

Stiles scoffs and looks at Derek. “Can you believe that?”

Derek shrugs. He’d rather not get caught in the middle. Besides, Boyd does talk. Derek’s sure Stiles rarely gives him a chance to, though. He picks at some of the grass, ripping it from the ground, and immediately feeling guilty about it.

“I don’t get women,” Stiles mutters. “What does she see in him?”

What do you see in Erica that you don’t see in me? Derek wants to ask but bites his tongue. Instead, he opts to quietly say, “Why don’t I walk you to your next class?”

Stiles studies Derek’s face, and he can’t help but wonder what Stiles is looking for. Instead of asking, Derek gets up from the courtyard grass and grabs his backpack. He holds out a hand to help Stiles up, and tries to ignore the way his body buzzes at the contact.

"You know, I'm starting to question whether I'm even meant for love," Stiles mutters. "Like maybe I'm just destined to be single for the rest of my life."

Derek snorts, because that's ridiculous.

"What?" Stiles asks, as they head towards the school doors. "I mean, Lydia has refused to look my way once. Not even a tiny little glance or a peek. She was all obsessed with Jackson, and then fell for Allison. And like, sure, they're a great couple, but... I'm always going to wonder what if?"

Derek doesn't respond, but simply holds the door open for him and trails beside him.

"And Erica... she was single all throughout high school, always complaining that no one was ever going to love her -"

"-sounds familiar," Derek teases.

Stiles doesn't hear him though. He keeps going. "And here I am, ready and willing to make our friendship more, and she's suddenly hung up on some guy who doesn't say a word."

Derek's lips part and shut. It's impossible to get him to hear anyone else when Stiles gets on a roll like this.

"And Boyd! Do you think he has any idea what a treasure Erica is? I bet not. I bet he doesn't even see her. And I do." Stiles pauses to glance at Derek. "You think Erica and I would be a good couple, right?"

Derek freezes.

"Yo, Stilinski! I heard you been talkin' shit about me!"

Thank god for Jackson, Derek thinks, as they both spin around to see him coming up the hall.

"I ran into Lydia and Erica. They're both furious with you," Jackson says, coming to a stop in front of them. He claps a hand on Stiles' shoulder. "I'd be pissed at you, but I think their wrath alone will be enough."

"Ha-ha," Stiles says, sarcastically. Then his face pales a little. "Oh shit, are they really mad?"

"Furious, dude," Jackson says. "I just said that."

"Fuck." Stiles hesitates before saying, "Okay. I'll apologize after class. I just..."

"Just what?" Jackson asks, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. "Just talked shit about the guy that Erica's in love with?"

"Well, not exactly--"

"Just forgot your boundaries because you think you're destined to have met your soul mate in high school like your parents did?" Jackson continues. "You do realize that it doesn't always happen like that, right? And you don't have to jump from friend to friend saying you're in love like the boy who cried wolf."

"Well--"

"Food for thought," Jackson says, before gently shoving Stiles' shoulder. "I gotta get to class. But you better apologize before my party on Friday! I don't want any drama!"

"Su--sure," Stiles stammers, as if he doesn't know how to respond for once.

"Always nice to talk, Hale," Jackson says before jogging back the way he came.

"What is going on?" Stiles whines. "It's like no one wants me to be in love with Erica."

Derek glances at Stiles, and then has to look away. He could say, Maybe that's my fault. Maybe it's because everyone knows I'm desperately in love with you. Maybe it's because I've been waiting for you for so long now. But he says nothing.

Instead, he pretends to get a call and tells Stiles he'll catch up with him later.

Instead, he walks down the hall and fights the urge to look back.

Instead, he puts the phone back into his pocket without even an attempt at a fake phone call.

Some days, being in love with your best friend is too much. Even for Derek, who has years of practice at it.

♞♚♞♚

"Oh my god, you came to a party!" Kira says, giggling and clearly already drunk. She throws her arms around Derek's shoulders. "I don't think I've ever seen you at one before!"

Derek laughs, feeling more relaxed tonight than he has all week. He's going to see Stiles again, and maybe lose his tongue, but at least he's calmed down from his mini freakout on Monday. "Hey, Kira. I've been known to party occasionally."

Kira laughs. "Okay, sure. Oh my god! There's someone I've been dying for you to meet!"

Derek lets her take his hand and drag him into the crowd at Jackson's apartment. They make their way out to the balcony where a handsome, but slightly scrawny, guy stands smoking a joint.

"Isaac! This is Derek. I've told Isaac all about you, Derek. You two have a lot in common. And -"

"Kira!" a girl's voice comes from within the apartment.

"And that's my cue. Have fun!" Kira giggles as she runs back into the apartment. Derek hears her shout "Maila!" before the door shuts behind her.

Isaac sighs. "This isn't what you think it is."

"It feels like we've just been set-up," Derek murmurs, walking over to take the joint from Isaac's fingers.

"Yeah, but not in the way you think." Isaac takes a deep breath before he says, "She said you have a big house."

Derek blinks, because that's not what he was expecting. "I... do. It was left to me after my parents passed away."

Isaac winces. "Sorry to hear that, man."

"Do you need a place to crash?" Derek asks, taking another puff of the joint before handing it back to Isaac.

"Something like that," Isaac mutters. He closes his eyes and takes a long drag of the joint. Then he says, "Listen, I like Kira. I trust Kira. And Kira trusts you. So. I'm just going to say I'm in a really bad spot right now, and could use another friend."

Isaac takes a deep breath and offers Derek the joint again. Just then, his sleeve moves down, and Derek sees all he needs to know.

"Yeah, man. Any friend of Kira's is a friend of mine. Get my number from her, and we'll work it out."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Derek says, nodding. "My sisters sort of live with me, but neither of them are around much. Cora's in school on the east coast, and Laura works in New York City. So, the place is kind of lonely, anyway."

"Cool. Thanks."

They stand on the balcony in silence for a few minutes, passing the joint back and forth, and then decide to go inside.

Derek's mind is spinning with what just happened, and perhaps that's why, he doesn't see Stiles coming.

Stiles throws his arms around Derek's neck from behind and swings around to face him. "Derek! I need you, right now."

He doesn't hesitate. He puts his hands on Stiles' waist and is ready to whisk him out of this party when Stiles laughs and stumbles backwards.

"Oh, that's good."

Confused, Derek asks, "What do you need me for?"

"I wanna make Erica see what she's missing!" Stiles says, swaying his hips. He frowns when Derek doesn't budge. "Dance with me, handsome."

Derek feels rusty. Like someone who hasn't danced before. He swallows hard. "I thought you apologized to her?"

"I did! A bunch of times!" Stiles says. "But I guess she's on a mission tonight to prove to me that she's really in love with Boyd. So, I wanna make her jealous."

"And I'm the way to do that?" Derek asks, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.

"Duh." Stiles shifts closer to Derek. "Is this okay?"

His mouth is dry. He manages a quiet "yes."

Derek tries to swallow again, but a lump has grown in his throat. It feels impossible, to be this close to Stiles, so suddenly after all this wanting.

Stiles tosses his head back and laughs.

He feels like he's drunk in love, Derek realizes. He sways off-beat to the music with Stiles, and he doesn't care. Being able to touch him... be this close... almost kiss him... it's almost too much.

The world pauses for a moment, and Derek blurts, "You are my best friend."

Stiles grins. "You're mine, too!"

There's a beat of silence between them. And Stiles' eyes grow wide. Does he know? Did he read it on Derek's face?

Derek frowns, untangling himself from Stiles and breaking the spell they were just under. "Sorry, I... I have to go."

"Wait, what?" Stiles asks with a panicked expression. "No, you can't just... leave."

Derek swallows and it feels like a hole just opened up beneath his feet and he's falling.

"Sorry, I got... too stoned."

Stiles' lips part.

"I'll text you," Derek finds himself promising.

He squeezes Stiles' wrist, unaware he was even holding it until now, and then he makes his way through the crowd.

"Hey, Hale!" Jackson's voice comes through. But Derek doesn't know what to do now. So, he rushes out the front door and doesn't look back. For once.

♞♚♞♚

"You gonna tell me what Friday night was about?" Lydia asks, settling in beside Derek at the picnic table in the school courtyard. Derek looks up.

"No-thing," he stumbles. "Just got too stoned."

"One minute, I see you all in love with Stilinski, and the next, you're leaving him on the dance floor." Lydia frowns and lowers her voice. "Derek, are you okay?"

He shrugs, because what is there to say? The only text he received from Stiles was a wtf and the only other message he got over the weekend was from Isaac, who has officially moved into the first spare room.

"Derek," Lydia says, her voice sharp. "Talk to me."

"I don't know, okay? He wanted to make Erica jealous or some shit, and I was too stoned to... I don't know. Deal."

Lydia considers this and then nods. "Idiot."

"Me?"

"No, not you. Stiles. He's being an idiot," Lydia says. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay." Lydia shifts on the bench and then says, "I heard what you did for Isaac. He's in one of my classes. A quiet little thing. I'm glad."

"Yeah." Derek leans forward and whispers, "I think... he was..."

"Yeah, me too." Lydia nods. "I've had my suspicions for a few months now. But he's safe now."

Derek leans back and lets out a breath. "Yeah. Yeah, he is."

Isaac had thanked him a thousand times as they moved his stuff in. It was mostly in garbage bags, so Derek's pretty sure he didn't plan on moving quite so quickly. The poor kid was shaking when Derek came to pick him and his stuff up. It's an image he'll remember for a lifetime.

"You're a great guy, Derek. I love Stilinski, I do, but the guy is a bonehead. You could do so much better," Lydia tells him, and Derek sighs. He guesses they're back to that conversation.

Derek looks up at Lydia and quietly asks, "Is that how you feel about Allison?"

Her lips part and close before she shakes her head. "Alright, point made."

"Hey," a familiar voice comes.

They turn to see Kira. She wears a bright smile, but a pair of sunglasses.

"You can't still be hungover from Jackson's party," Lydia says in lieu of a greeting.

"I ammmm," Kira whines, sitting down beside Derek. She groans dramatically before she says, "I just wanted to thank you, Derek. You're a good man. A better man than most."

He doesn't know what to say to that, so he smiles and wraps an arm around her shoulders. He squeezes her close.

"Hey! Hands off my man," another voice comes.

Derek really should've picked a less popular spot to eat lunch.

His heart pounds.

Stiles plops down beside Lydia with a wide grin. "Haven't you heard? Derek's taken."

"By who?" Lydia asks, dryly.

"By me." Stiles winks at Derek as if he should play along.

"What!" Kira says, sitting upright. "How drunk was I at Jackson's party? Since when?"

"Since Derek swept me off my feet," Stiles says, grinning.

"Oh my god! I'm so excited for you both!" Kira exclaims, and before Derek can stop her, she says, "He's been in love with you since, what, like ninth grade or something?"

Stiles blinks and looks at Derek. "Wait, what?"

"She's kidding," Derek says, but his voice is tense, and he's not sure a single person at this table believes him. Derek takes his arm back from Kira's shoulders and picks up his sandwich.

"No, no," Kira says, clearly not getting it. "When I met Derek, he was at Erica's house, high as a kite, and talking about you. Told everyone he was in love and--ow!"

Derek looks at Lydia, who has clearly kicked Kira under the table. Lydia snorts. "You can't believe everything Derek says while high, Kira. He also once pretended that he was a knight in shining armour and was going to save us all from a dragon."

Kira laughs. "Did he really?"

"I plead the fifth," Derek mutters.

"So you weren't madly in love with me?" Stiles asks, looking at Derek curiously.

Derek picks up his phone. "Shit, I'm going to be late for class."

That he doesn't have.

"I gotta go."

Anywhere but here.

"Derek, wait--" Stiles starts, but it's too late. Derek scoops up his stuff, shoves it in his backpack, and jogs towards the parking lot.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

♞♚♞♚

"Is it okay if I have a friend over?" Isaac asks when Derek gets home. He hesitates before adding, "I think you even know him. Vernon Boyd. We just have a project to work on and I can't really concentrate in the library and--"

"Isaac," Derek says gently. "Of course you can have someone over. This is your home too."

"Oh. Um. Alright, cool. Thanks." Isaac starts to walk towards the kitchen when he pauses and asks, "Are you alright, man?"

Derek laughs. He doesn't mean to, but the sound bursts out of him anyway. He shakes his head. "I'll be fine."

Isaac frowns, but lets it go for now which is exactly what Derek needs. He crashes on the couch, flipping through Disney Plus aimlessly looking for an easy-watching kids' show to watch.

He's almost half way through his fifth episode when someone knocks at the door. Isaac darts down the hall, pausing in the living room archway to say, "That'll be Boyd."

"Okay," Derek says, absentmindedly.

A few minutes later, Isaac comes into the living room with Boyd and says, "We're going to go in the kitchen, if that's okay. Don't want to--"

"Nah," Derek says, shaking his head. "Study in here. It's more comfortable. I was going to go take a nap anyway."

"Oh! If you're sure." Isaac hesitates before asking, "Are you sure you're okay?"

Derek looks at them, with Boyd quietly watching him, and shrugs. "It's dumb."

"I highly doubt that," Boyd says, almost startling Derek with how smooth his voice is. "Isaac told me something was up. Hope that's okay."

"Um. Yeah. It's fine. It's really nothing."

But when Isaac and Boyd settle into the chairs, Derek finds himself talking. A lot. He explains the whole situation starting from ninth grade to this afternoon.

"And I don't really get it," Derek continues, almost out of breath. "Like, why is he using me like this?"

"Sounds like he doesn't get it," Boyd counters.

"Have you told him anything?" Isaac asks.

Derek shakes his head. "No, but I'm sure Kira and Lydia told him after I left today. He hasn't even texted or called or... I don't know. Done anything."

"Sucks," Isaac says.

"Definitely sucks," Boyd agrees.

Derek rubs his face. "What do I do now?"

"Let him go?" Isaac suggests.

"I can't. That's the annoying part," Derek admits. "There's just... so much history. And he's really a great guy. He's just been all obsessed with this idea that he's in love, and I don't think he even really believes it."

"Why do you say that?" Boyd asks, shifting on his chair to lean in. He studies Derek with his intense brown eyes, filled with concern, and Derek melts. No wonder why Erica's mad for him.

"I think he chooses people who are emotionally unavailable so he won't get hurt. Because if he chooses someone real, well, he'd actually be risking something." Derek sighs.

Boyd smiles. "I appreciate you sharing all of this with me, especially because we don't know each other well."

"Ditto," Isaac says. "And my advice? Maybe just... talk to him?"

"Tell him how you really feel. And that's why you can't pretend to see him to make Erica jealous." Boyd pauses before asking, "How do you know Erica wouldn't be jealous, though?"

"She's in love with yo--" Derek catches himself but it's a beat too late.

Boyd blinks, and then a bright grin crosses his face. "Sorry, gentlemen, but I think there's somewhere I need to be."

Isaac laughs. "By all means, man, go get your girl."

Boyd pauses to add to Derek, "Talk to him. He has no idea what's going on in your head. Good luck."

Derek watches in bewilderment as Boyd leaves. He turns to Isaac and asks, "Is that dude for real? He finds out Erica's slightly interested in him and he just... goes to talk to her?"

Isaac laughs. "Yeah. Boyd's been madly in love with her ever since they first met. Said she was a goddess. Claimed she was an angel without her wings."

"And... and he's just going to go tell her?"

"Yeah. He just wanted to be sure that she felt the same for him," Isaac says, before adding, "Why? Hoping Stiles is doing the same?"

Derek exhales. "If only."

♞♚♞♚

Feeling a little more hopeful than before, Derek knocks on Stiles' dorm room door. He doesn't know what he's going to say. But he knows he has to say something. He's been running from this for far too long.

He holds coffee in his hand, realizing that it may be a mistake to give Stiles coffee at midnight, but it's too late now.

Stiles' roommate, Scott, opens the door. "Oh! Derek. Hi."

"Hi, is Stiles here?" Derek asks.

"I don't know what happened between you two," Scott says, carefully. "But ever since Monday, he's been moping around. I'm not even sure he wants to talk to you."

"Yes, he does!" Stiles calls out from somewhere in the dorm room.

Scott frowns, narrowing his eyes on Derek. "If you hurt him, I hurt you. Got it?"

"Got it," Derek says, although he's pretty sure he could win in a fight against Scott. But he's not about to say that.

Scott opens the door for Stiles to slip through.

"Hey," Stiles says.

"Hey. Wanna go for a walk?"

"Sure. Let me grab a sweater."

Stiles slips back into the dorm and Scott gestures that he's watching Derek. He almost wants to tell Scott that he's got this all wrong. It's going to be his heart to break tonight.

A few minutes later, Stiles comes back in a red hoodie. He happily takes a coffee and says, "Let's go."

Derek doesn't know what to say, not even when they get into the elevator, so he stays quiet.

Stiles asks, "Did you hear that Erica and Boyd are officially dating?"

"Oh?" Derek says, as if he didn't already know this. "That's great for them. How... um. How are you?"

"Surprisingly... fine," Stiles says, but his voice sounds stiff.

"That's good."

Their shoulders brush when they both move to exit the elevator. Derek steps back to let Stiles go first.

They don't say anything until they're walking along the path by the pond.

"So, you're in love with me, huh?" Stiles asks.

Derek swallows, unsure what to say. He knew this would come up. Knew that he'd have to admit it tonight. But saying the words seems a lot harder.

"I wish I had known!" Stiles says, when Derek doesn't answer. "Here I am, mooning over these people, begging to be in love like my friends, and here you were. The whole time. But you didn't say anything. Why?"

"Because you weren't mooning over me," Derek mumbles. Suddenly, he's lost his nerve. "I don't know. Why didn't you ever tell Erica you were in love with her?"

"Because I wasn't!" Stiles says.

They both stop walking to stare at each other.

"You weren't?"

"No. I wasn't. I... I see that now." Stiles rubs his hands together. "In fact, I don't think I've ever been in love before. But..."

"But?"

"I don't know," Stiles admits. "I think I'd like to be."

Derek considers this, and then quietly says, "Stiles, would you like to go on a date with me?"

His eyes light up. "Really? Even if I'm not in love with you too?"

Derek smiles. "I've had a long time to be in love with you. Are you sure you're ready for something real?"

Stiles beams. "I am."

Derek holds his hand out and Stiles slips his fingers in between Derek's fingers.

It might not be the love story Derek expected, and it might burn hot and fizzle out, but he's relieved to have finally let his fears go and try.

♞♚♞♚

Three months later...

"Derek! Can you please tell Stiles he can't strip down naked every time he comes over without seeing if I'm home first?" Isaac calls down the hall.

Derek laughs. "Sure thing, Isaac. But you might not want to come into the kitchen."

"Aw, c'mon, man!" Isaac calls back. "In the kitchen? Really?"

"We're making breakfast," Stiles calls out. "But give me a second to put on more than the apron."

Stiles turns to Derek and motions for him to hand over Derek's blue sweater and a pair of sweatpants.

"Isaac is going to kill me if we keep doing this," Derek says.

"Yeah, well, he's going to have to get used to it. I'm not going anywhere."

"No?" Derek murmurs, leaning forward for a kiss. Their lips touch briefly before they hear a groan from the hallway.

"Did you two burn the toast again?"

Stiles and Derek both turn to see the toaster has popped up with black toast. "Crap! Derek, it was your turn to watch the toast."

"It's hardly my fault that you decided to get naked and distract me," Derek says, moving towards the toaster to deal with the burnt toast. He starts to pull it out, wincing at the heat, and glances over his shoulder to see Stiles is fully clothed again. He pouts.

"It's okay," Stiles says, coming up behind him and whispering in his ear. "I love you too, Derek."

It might not be the moment he imagined, but it's theirs, and it's perfect, and that's all that matters.

"Guys, is it safe to come into the kitchen yet?"

Derek laughs.

♞♚♞♚

[summ6rbummer]

patrick hocksetter x female bully victim

ASKFJSKDJHSLA BLESS YOU FOR GIVING ME SOMETHING TO WRITE ILY (PSA) if you like any of my work, pls pls pls request something!! i love writing these!

okay i got this in the bag. im not gonna use a lot of descriptive terms for the girl in this because i didnt get a lot of input WHICH is not a problem but i dont wanna make this unfit for the requester (or anyone frls) anywayss basically the reader in this is has been targeted for quite a few years, starting in elementary with bowers and hocksetter, then in middle school with huggins and criss. i also wasnt sure if this was supposed to be a ship or romantic or not butt im making it a little bit. but not a lot. im gonna js start writing now i hope you enjoy!! also this might be a little long.

little one

patrick hocksetter x female! bully victim

(first person)

tw! stalking - lowkey sexual harassment - mentions of suicide-

first day of 5th grade, stepper elementary school derry Maine. my mom had picked an outfit for my first day, a pair of overalls and a little striped short sleeve with my boots and some ponytails. thinking back, that was an adorable outfit. yet the way i remember feeling when they ruined it was not.

i had that class with dumb and dumber themselves, patrick hocksetter and henry bowers. i didn't know much about them at the time, considering that 5th grade was the first year i had a class with either of them. id heard rumors about henry and some boys he was friends with being huge bullies and to steer clear of them, so when i walked into that classroom on the first day and saw them sitting in the back corner, warning signs flashed in my peripherals.

id always been an anxious kid, hell my parents bothered me about it every chance they could get. anyways, i was already having stomach quivers about starting school, and now i was in the same class as them. of course, as i was trying to lay low, the teacher decided to put me at the table in front of them. i could just feel the terrible intent radiating off of the boys behind me, through the icebreaker games, through math, reading, science, and even recess. recess was where i met my best friend, Emma. she was in the other fifth grade class, with the other two boys, reggie and victor? i think that was his name. she told me all about the things people say about the group.

especially patrick. they say he killed his younger brother with a pillow when he was five. im still shocked to this day about that. but i remember going back to class after that and feeling oddly cold sitting down in front of that boy. throughout the rest of class, i was slowly preparing myself to ask the teacher to move my seat. so when the dismissal bell rang, i waited for the rest of the students to leave, including patrick and henry, to go to the teacher and tug on her sleeve to ask her to move my seat.

the next day, she sat me across the room, next to a boy named jonathan. i was feeling much better about that class, until about halfway through lunch. i was sitting with Emma and Jonathan, chatting about our highscores in dig dug. out of nowhere, it got extremely quiet in the lunchroom. i stopped talking and carefully looked around, before realizing everyone was looking at our table. my blood ran cold as i realized Emma was staring at something directly behind me, dead eyes and mouth agape.

slowly i turned around, only to be met eye to eye by patrick hocksetter. he had a sca smile on holding a balloon filled with something and a thumbtack. before i could even ask what he wanted, he stabbed the balloon directly above my head, letting bright blue liquid splash over my hair, and down my face and clothes. he erupted into laughter, followed by the rest of the boys, followed by scattered giggles across the lunchroom. i coughed in shock, blinking, before the burning sensation set into my eyes. i started crying, and my throat was closing at the smell and my coughing. through my blue blurred eyes, i stumbled up, shoved through the four boys and the rest of the laughing lunchroom and ran out to the bathroom. before i could even make it there, a hand grabbed the back of my shirt.

henry had pulled me out of the bathroom doorway, and now i was surrounded by the boys.

'hopefully that'll teach your stupid fucking girl brain not to snitch to the teacher about us." i heard a voice sneer at me. i rubbed my eyes and watched through blurry vision as they turned and started walking back to the lunchroom. "but we aren't done with you SNITCH" i heard henry yell as i carefully stumbled into the bathroom.

and they decided they weren't done with me. not for the rest of the year, not for the year of 6th grade, or 7th grade, or 8th, or oven freshman year. and each year they got more and more creative. it evolved from shoving me on the playground, to snipping off pieces of my hair when i wasn't paying attention, then when i hit puberty, showing off my bled-through gym shorts, catcalling me in the hallways, and snapping my bra straps. leaving threatening notes in my locker, as well as dead flies, yknow, the usual.

eventually, i got used to the humiliation, but i was extremely surprised that it all came from me just asking to move my seat in fifth grade.

now its sophomore year, and its gotten worse yet better. im only really targeted by patrick and henry, the other two are really just in for the ride. belch, as they call him, is actually kinda nice to me. we have social studies together. i let him borrow a pencil one time and give him homework answers and in return, he kinda started being nice to me. patrick on the other hand was treating me exactly the same. stalking me through the hallways, following me home, leaving me threatening notes, boring his eyes into the back of my head in class, carving his initials into my windowsill....

but it seems like hes become more obsessed than hateful. one time i found a list of my backpack contents inside my pocket. and half the time i dont even know how he finds out some things. its kinda scary. whos fucking kidding its terrifying. and im so fucking tired of it.

he terrorizes me. i sprint home everyday so he cant catch up to me. sometimes they all take belchs car and i hear the engine rapidly approaching me. all these things build up over the days and weeks, and it makes me feel like im genuinely going insane. i have panic attacks on my way to school, i flinch at people trying to hug me, i just live under the freakishly tall shadow of patrick hocksetter. i wonder how he can be so messed up when we're only fifteen.

anyways, back to present day, biology class. which i coincidentally have with both bowers and patrick. lucky me. i sat two desks up and diagonal from both of them, each on either side. it was the second to last month of school, and we were finishing our human anatomy unit.

i was zoned out, listening to the droning, buzzing sound of our teacher's voice. at the feeling of a crumpled ball of paper hitting my shoe, i came back down to earth, glancing over my shoulder at patrick, who had a grin on his face. i slowly reached down and picked up the crumpled note, opening it and reading it.

'you n me behind the school, 3;30. if youre late, pray you're fast enough to get home before i do. which you wont be. thanks little one.'

i let out a shaky sigh when i finished reading the note. then crumpled it back up and shoved a half assed thumbs up under my arm at him so i didnt have to turn around and look at his face.

my hands got clammy as people started to pack up their backpacks, and i felt myself getting a headache as the bell rang and students filed out of the school. patrick and henry sauntered past me, and patrick let his fingers slideeee across the surface of my desk.. like a warning. jesus.

i took a deep breath, preparing myself for what i had in mind about putting a stop to this shit. i held my pen in my hand, in case i needed to use it as a shank.

as i rounded the corner to the back of the school, i saw patrick leaning against a tree, twirling a stick in his fingers. i cleared my throat and anxiously kept walking towards him. he watched me walk halfway towards him, then he pushed himself off the tree and walked to stand uncomfortably close to me.

'what do you want patrick.. '

he scoffed and started walking around me. 'what do i want? well theres a lot of things i want from you.. if youre offering-' he chuckled near my ear, and i could feel him twirling a piece of my hair in his fingers.

i think that was the moment he drove me crazy. i elbowed him in the ribs and spun around, backing away. i could tell i was gonna cry, either out of anger or fear, but there were tears pooling in my eyes.

'im fucking done. what do WANT from me?? I have done NOTHING to deserve this, and yet you still humiliate me, and terrorize me every day. is this really about fifth grade?? because i feel like thats been repaid for a good four years. what do you get from this? do you get off on making my life miserable like some weird perv?? GOD hocksetter im done! im fucking finished! ill have to kill myself before you'll let me live!' i cried, pacing and screaming at him.

i stopped to catch my breath. he looked shocked for a slight second, and then his face went back its natural smirk. he paced towards me, grabbing my face with his hand, squishing my face.

'you sweet little thing. it is repaid. its been repaid for a while. you just intrigue me so much.. i couldn't possibly stop humiliating you.. you're too infatuating.' he stared at every detail of my face, almost mapping it, before he shoved my face away from his hand. he went right back to circling me again.

'yknow.. it was never really about scaring you. i mean of course i enjoyed that part, you're absolutely hilarious to terrorize.'

i almost laughed in disbelief. ive been going through this all for his shits and giggles. what the fuck is wrong with him.

'it really started wayyyy before fifth grade. it was probably around third grade that i noticed you. i think it was when you were in the school concert... i realized how much you stuck out from all the other kids you were singing with.. and i just became infatuated. i think youre real. like me.'

what the fuck is he talking about?? real? of course im real.. what is going on?

he was walking towards me again, and i stumbled a few steps back until my back hit the hot brick wall and i felt suffocated when i realized.

im afraid of you.

'i dont want to be afraid of you anymore. please. patrick please stop doing this to me.' i pleaded, willing the tears back.

he leaned in closer, if possible, pressing me against the wall. i felt him inhale against my scalp, and for a minute, i felt the wind stop blowing and the birds stop chirping, and i could only feel my heartbeat in my ears and could only smell the sweat and bodyspray that came off of him.

then he backed up, pulled his hands off my shoulders, and stepped away. "go. im not done, but you're done being terrorized."

i shuddered. praying he wasn't lying. i slowly turned my back and started walking away, when i heard him call after me.

'hey. just so you know, youre mine. so youre safe for now. but youre still mine. some things are staying the same. go home.'

i turned around again and started walking home, going over what had just happened. on repeat again and again. what did he mean? im real? of course im real..

what the fuck just happened.

ok so i think that was good.. and im done now so thank you sunshine!

-junie

[vincess-princess]

in darkness shall you be reborn

Chapter 13.

Word count: 3073 Warnings: a bit of violence, i guess? A/N: hi hello it's me just a month after the previous chapter. my classes started and every day im running to work and then to uni across the entire city like a headless chicken so i don't really have much energy for anything else. but i'm gonna try hard to keep posting semi-regularly at least!

Vince’s guess proved true when he climbed the stairs to the hatch and peered outside. The pirates gathered in the middle of the deck in a circle, and within it there was movement and frequent, irregular clunking, each eliciting cheering or booing from the pirates. Occasionally he could hear Nikki shout. Vince hesitated a bit, pretty convinced it would be unwise to show up after Nikki so explicitly disapproved of it, but his bitterness over the recent humiliation prevailed and he climbed onto the deck and walked behind pirates’ backs until he distinguished Mick’s.

“Vince? Whatcha doing here?” Mick asked, startled when Vince patted his shoulder.

“Wanted to see what’s going on. I’m always missing all the fun.”

“Well, you have. Happy now?” Mick wanted to add something, but his voice drowned in Nikki’s yelling.

“Tom, are you trying to show us a minuet here? What’s all this leg-kicking? Feet firmly on the floor, shoulder-width apart, knees bent, or you’ll get knocked down immediately! Bobby, push him! See, you almost fell! You gotta be steady as a mountain or you’ll get trampled. Get in the stance now. Lower! Bend your goddamn knees! Alright, that will do. Bobby, push him again. See? Didn’t sway a bit. Now keep that in mind as you go for another round. Three, two, one, go!”

The clunking resumed.

“Oh yes. Finally it’s not me he’s yelling at. But – fencing lessons on a pirate ship, really? And you all are fine with him bossing you around like that?”

“Well,” Mick sighed, “you too admitted that the motherfucker is damn good. And you can’t let your skill go rusty, not in our walk of life. Besides, it’s a good way for the guys to blow off steam.”

“Can’t wait to see you in action.” The respect the crew and even the captain held for the cook was obvious, and Vince was dying to know what caused it. Mick didn’t look much of a fighter, but pirates were the kind of people who only respected brutal force, so there must have been something Vince couldn’t see – not yet, at least.

“You won’t,” Mick ruthlessly thwarted his hopes. “Twenty years ago, maybe. Now my bones won’t let me.”

“You don’t take part in raids then?”

“Close combat is not the only way to take down an enemy, y’know.” Mick patted his holster. No other explanation was needed.

They watched Tom lose to Bobby again when the wooden sword of the latter smashed into his wrist with a crack – hopefully the crack of wood – making him cry out and drop his weapon. His opponent was two heads taller, his arm as thick as Tom’s leg. Tom wasn’t capable of taking his opponent down by force no matter how hard he tried.

“The right stance here won’t help, not with their size difference,” Vince told Mick. “His endurance is also lacking. The longer the fight, the smaller his chance to win. The guy’s only hope is speed. He needs to focus on that.”

Mick gave him a long, hard look.

“You really think you know better than Nikki? He took you down in a couple minutes.”

“I know my theory.” Vince shrugged. “He, on the other hand, seems to be an intuitive type. He honed his own skill to perfection, sure, but he’s got gaps in his overall knowledge of the craft. For example, how it can be readjusted for different body types.”

“Well, your ‘knowledge of the craft’ didn’t help you much,” Mick said sharply. Then, seeing Vince’s hurt expression, softened somewhat. “You better keep it to yourself. Nikki’s not gonna like it if you go around undermining his superiority like that.”

“No one would listen to me anyway,” Vince huffed. “He made sure of that.”

“I wouldn’t be so convinced,” Mick smiled mysteriously.

“What do you mean?”

But the old pirate refused to elaborate no matter how hard Vince tried, and soon Vince gave up and switched his attention to the new pair of fighters in the ring. Slash and Duff were inseparable even during the training, Vince thought, as he watched them get into positions.

This fight was quite a bit fairer, as Slash’s almost snake-like agility compensated somewhat for Duff’s height and weight advantage. It could only do so much, though: multiple times he got too close to Duff to land a blow powerful enough to knock down, and imminently had to retreat when facing a counterattack.

“Are there, like, rules for the fight?” Vince whispered to Mick. “Or just freestyle?”

“Only one: the fight goes on until one is downed or disarmed.”

“No prohibited moves, nothing?”

Mick looked at him like he was an idiot. “The only exception is the eyes. Everything else is fine, as long as they don’t get too excited. Limit them now, they will never show their full potential in a real fight.”

“And if someone gets seriously injured?”

“With a wooden stick? Don’t be ridiculous. Anyone who’d let that happen doesn’t belong on the Shout. And Izzy’s here eating our food for a reason.”

Vince involuntarily searched the crowd for the skinny, black-clad surgeon. To his surprise, next to him he spotted a familiar ginger head.

“So almost everything is off limits then.”

“I’ve been trying to say that the whole time.”

“Then why doesn’t Slash go for Duff’s crotch? He’s gotten close enough several times by now. Duff’s completely open, he won’t have the time to parry or dodge. It’s so obvious - but Slash doesn’t seem to notice.”

Mick looked at him with amusement.

“Damn, you’re vicious. Maybe he just doesn’t want to be a dick, you ever thought of that?”

“Alright, not the crotch,” Vince backed down, belatedly realizing that he too wouldn’t want to do it to a friend. “The knee’s open as well, and you can topple anyone with a well-placed strike there- Oh. That must have hurt.”

Duff’s sword collided with Slash’s shoulder with a loud crash, kicking the weapon out of his hand and almost knocking him to the ground. Slash staggered back, grasping at the hurt shoulder with his left hand and cursing like… well, like a sailor.

“Sorry, mate!” Duff raised his hands in an apologetic gesture, but Slash spat on the deck in disdain, turned his back on Duff and walked away proudly, plopping down onto a bench just a few feet away from Vince and Mick. Duff frowned, but didn’t follow him; instead he handed over his sword to the next combatant and disappeared in the opposite part of the crowd.

“Slash, you gotta learn to lose!” Vince heard Nikki’s voice. “And also work on your grip!”

Pirates in the circle laughed. When Slash showed them the middle finger, they laughed louder. Vince swallowed a lump of yearning in his throat; it slid down his chest and stomach, coating his insides in cold slime. This laughter was so different from what he was always getting. Not jeering and mocking, but light-hearted and good-natured, the one you would hear from your friends when you trip over. But they weren’t his friends and would never be.

Vince hastily kicked the unwanted emotion into the back of his mind and forcefully smoothened the frown on his face before turning to Mick and speaking to him as cheerfully as he could.

“Wow. Did I just see the inseparable couple separate?”

“That’s not for long,” Mick waved his hand. “Slash only gets pissed at Duff when he loses, which is almost always. But he comes around quickly. Wait and see, they’ll be thick as thieves in an hour again.”

“Well, no wonder he loses all the time. His grip is fine, perfecting it further won’t yield much use. His problems stem from trying to use a strategy not fit for his capabilities. He’s pushing forward like he’s got all 200 pounds in him, and of course it doesn’t work. He should make use of his agility instead.”

Mick sighed.

“Do you just turn a deaf ear to me every time I open my mouth? You won’t like it if Nikki learns you’ve been shit-talking him. That includes talking to me. You never know who might be listening nearby.”

Vince couldn’t help but look around suspiciously, a chill creeping down his spine. There were several pirates nearby, but all of them were captivated by the fight. Were – or just pretended to be?

Then he looked back at Mick and grew even more uneasy.

“You wouldn’t…?” he trailed off, recalling everything he told Mick over those days on the Shout. Were Nikki to learn some of that, Vince would be fucked.

Not a muscle moved on Mick’s face, but his features as though sharpened, lines on his face deepened, and the chilling-blue gaze turned outright freezing.

“I’m not a snitch, princess. I know how to keep my mouth shut. That’s why I lasted so long here.” He looked away, crossing his arms on his chest. “You know, if Nikki had learned about your midnight stroll, you wouldn’t be sleepin’ in the galley no more.”

“Oh. Right.” Vince’s guts twisted into a knot. Did he just turn away the only friendly face on this ship? “Sorry, man. I never thought you’d do something like that.”

“Thinking is not a sin. Running your mouth before you think is.” Mick’s voice was still cold, sending Vince further down the anxiety spiral.

“How many more ways of saying ‘shut up’ can you invent?” Vince scrambled to come up with a joke to test the waters. To his relief, corners of Mick’s mouth curved into a smile.

“Definitely not enough for you to actually do it.”

“Well, who else is going to provide you with unwelcome yet high-quality commentary then?” Vince smiled, feeling the knot in his stomach loosen. This felt damn close.

Mick let out an exaggerated sigh. “If only you did your goddamn job with the same zeal… Y’know, if you’ve got so much energy to spare, maybe I should increase your workload?”

“I don’t like the direction this conversation is taking.”

“The only way to stop a conversation is to-“

“Fine, fine!” Vince groaned. “I’m shutting up.”

They watched a few more pairs of fighters. The majority of them were surprisingly decent, somehow turning the absolute lack of technique into their advantage. Those that didn’t manage to do so probably didn’t last long in this profession. Some, like Axl, functioned entirely on uncontained rage, which worked up to an opponent intrepid enough not to piss his breeches at the sight of an armed to the teeth pirate charging at him with insane eyes and a naked blade. Judging by how long Axl managed to last on the pirate ship, though, this tactics must have been working pretty well.

The ring emptied, and a strange silence descended on the ship for a moment before the pirates erupted in exulted cries. Vince couldn’t understand what caused it until a few seconds later, when he saw Nikki and Tommy walk into the ring, wielding real, steel rapiers.

“No way,” Vince could only mumble, watching them get into positions. “They’ll kill each other.”

“Relax, princess.” Mick looked at him condescendingly. “They do it all the time. Haven’t had any accidents.”

“Yet.” Not that Vince would mind Nikki getting impaled or, God bless, even killed, but it was much more likely to happen to Tommy, and, as backhanded and humiliating his protection was, it was still protection. Mick could only help Vince when on his territory; behind the closed doors of Nikki’s cabin Tommy was the only one capable of bringing Nikki to his senses.

“They know what they’re doing. You’ll see.”

The two pirates drew their rapiers.

Last time Vince only saw Nikki and Tommy in action together was at a periphery of his vision that was already clouded with rage, and then Nikki got him too fast to really understand anything except that he was damn good. Now Vince could see them properly, and that sure was a sight.

They started off slowly, even languidly, rapiers pointing to the ground, steps soft. Tommy attacked first – leaped forward, rapier flashing in the sun. Nikki ducked, his hair flying; a loud clank, and Tommy jumped back just as effortlessly, grinning from ear to ear.

Almost immediately – another strike, a whoosh in the air, another rapid retreat. Tommy pranced around Nikki like a young thoroughbred, showering him in quick, untargeted stabs, never too long in one place for Nikki to land a counterattack yet neither gathering enough momentum to penetrate Nikki’s defense. Not that it was even possible: not once had Nikki opened up enough for Tommy to land a hit, firmly standing his ground, parrying with short, precise movements, never move more than a step away from his original position. If Tommy wanted to exhaust him through endless attacks, he only achieved the opposite. His style would have worked on someone with worse reflexes or less steady stance; Nikki had neither of those things, so Tommy’s strikes, flashy as they were, grew shallower and more predictable as he depleted his energy. He wasn’t really to blame for this, though: so far Vince couldn’t spot any fault in Nikki’s move set, detect a single miscalculated movement. There really was not much to be done in this case.

Tommy must have grown tired and lost his focus, but Vince spotted the moment Nikki shifted his weight forward to counterattack earlier than the first mate. Chary and discreet – unexperienced fighters would even think lazy - in his movements before, now he charged forward with such force the lines of his silhouette blurred for a split second. Vince flinched, as if it was his stomach the cold steel was going to pierce. There was no way Tommy could parry that.

And Tommy didn’t. He swirled in place, turning his body sideways – rather awkwardly, but it worked. Nikki’s rapier stabbed the air mere inches away from his skin and withdrew just as rapidly when he returned back into his initial position, restoring the defense sacrificed for a daring move.

The pirates cheered and clapped. Vince looked at Mick round-eyed.

“This isn’t a performance. It’s real.”

“Of course, it’s real. This ain’t a circus.”

“He almost got him.”

“The key word here is ‘almost’.”

“A fraction of a second later, and we’d be wiping Tommy’s guts off the deck now.”

Mick pursed his lips in exasperation. “You don’t have to watch if you’re so faint-hearted. Nobody invited you in the first place.”

“It’s not about me,” Vince bristled. “It’s about your captain and first mate fighting to death and you all just watching.”

“Since when you’re so worried about them?” Mick narrowed his eyes. “Do you want me to think all your shaking and sniveling and midnight walking is just a show then? Because you go on like this, I might just start thinking that.”

Vince froze, mouth half-open. Yeah, he’d rather Mick spat him in the face than say something like that. And he thought hearing the faking accusations from Tommy was hurtful. Turned out it was a splinter next to Mick’s backstab.

“You think I’m faking?” he asked, his voice two tones higher than he wanted it to be. “You think I’m secretly enjoying it?”

Mick rolled his eyes. “No. I don’t think anyone would enjoy that. But to me, you do get too dramatic about it. A whore gets the same treatment as you every night, but you don’t see them lining up to throw themselves off the docks. And their pay usually only covers food and lodging, which you get for free here, so no benefits in that either.”

“You’re saying I’m overreacting.”

“I’m saying that you don’t realize how much worse it could have gotten for you if Nikki hadn’t decided to keep you here. You think they’d waste your pretty ass away at a plantation, like the rest of your crew? Ha. There are things that even whores won’t do, and that’s where slaves come in. And from what I’ve seen on you, Nikki’s actually pretty mild in that regard.”

“You call that mild-“ Vince began indignantly when a loud thump interrupted him, drawing his and Mick’s attention back to the fight.

Nikki, who up to this moment kept tight defense with only a few quick attacks here and there, went into assault. If Vince hadn’t seen him in that state before, the sudden change in demeanor from what seemed as careful and unwieldy, sluggish even, would have come as a very unpleasant surprise. It would also most likely be the last surprise of his life. Nikki’s blade moved so fast it was more akin to a silvery gust of wind; his whole body was like a string, receptive to so much as blinking of the opponent, almost predicting it. A chill creeped down Vince’s spine: he didn’t even realise during their incredibly short clash how damn deadly the pirate captain was. It even seemed as if he was purposefully holding back during their fight.

Tommy held up to his second-in-command status pretty well, though. It was clear how much his movement coordination lacked compared to Nikki, but his reaction and distance perception were incredibly well-developed for a self-taught former child beggar. His technique, or rather the mastery with which he employed the lack thereof, would first induce a heart attack in Vince’s swordsmanship teacher, who then, after being brought back to his senses, would offer to teach the ingenious savage free of charge. It wasn’t a surprise Tommy stood out among the rest of the pirates, and it was pretty clear Nikki chose him as his first mate not just because he and Nikki were a thing.

But the continuous attacks of the first half of the fight exhausted Tommy, and now Nikki made sure he didn’t have a single moment to catch his breath. Vince could see Tommy’s movements grow jerky and spasmic, his reaction time getting longer. His imminent defeat was a matter of a couple of minutes.

Vince’s estimate was very close: one hundred and fifty-two seconds later (he counted) Tommy miscalculated a step and ended up closer to Nikki than he intended. The punishment for the mistake was fast and merciless. The rapier rattled against the wood of the deck as Tommy collided with it with a loud crash and a pained groan. Nikki stepped up, lined the tip of his rapier with Tommy’s twitching Adam’s apple.

“You lose,” he said, smiling.

[charmixpower]

bloom/valtor, aisha/stella and riven/brandon for the ask game?

Once again I'm not a huge fan of hero/VILLAN ships

I'm not going to talk as long for this one. If just writing that much about Blicy kicked up my hyper empathy to make me start crying I don't wanna know what this is gonna do

Anyways he attempted to genocide her entire planet and thats like my biggest dislike of this ship. That an Valtor would absolutely be manipulating and gaslighting Bloom for the rest of her life

From what I've seen of Winx fics Bloom/Valtor tend to be dark fics (duh, he's pure evil and is only not trying to kill her like everyone else because she's currently useful, and she's already more naive than the average person because she was not born in the magical dimension) and I don't like dark fic! It makes me extremely uncomfortable

I react to fiction a LOT differently due to my over active empathy, I empathize with fictional characters a lot more than a normal person. So you can see why someone with "can't stop imagining themselves in others shoes" disorder would NOT like ships that literally can't not have a huge power imbalance that one party intends to take advantage of to control the other

This ship is why I'm probably gonna overhaul Valtor completely, it's just better for my mental health like this

This ship is so moon themed

Can I just say this is the ultimate ocean couple??? Fairy of liquids and the fairy of sun and moon. Ocean and the moon pushing and pulling the tides!! So cute!!

Tbh they are very cute but I think they're reactions to being famous and raised surrounded by other people with high expectations would cause problems. Stella, obviously, loves the attention, and tries her best to reach the expectations even if she struggles. Aisha jumped out the window and ran away as soon as she cool to avoid more manners classes

These differentiating opinions on being princesses would cause problems. That in they really don't share anything in common?? Like even if you look at Tecna and Flora, they share a love of science in common, but Aisha and Stella really have no middle ground

I don't think it would be impossible for a relationship to start, but it's pull isn't as strong as my other Winx/Winx ships

Btw Stella is number one friend and first to help and Aisha is number one hyper independent much to her determent, and Stella being the first one she accepts help from and then they kiss is rlly cute

BRIVEN

BRIVEN IS IMPORTANT AND EVERYTHING TO ME

1) RIVEN HATES SKY AND RESPECTS BRANDON EVEN WHEN THERE IDENTITIES ARE SWITCHED

2) BRANDON IS ONE OF THE FEW PEOPLE WHO SEEM TO UNDERSTAND HOW THIS DUMBASS THINKS

3) BRANDON DOES FLIRT WITH PEOPLE FOR FUN

4) RIVEN CANT PROCESS A SINGLE EMOTION AND WOULD BE VERY FUNNY TO FLIRT WITH

5) BRANDON HAS A NATURAL RESISTANCE TO RIVEN BULLSHIT

6) RIVEN WOULD BE BEST EQUIPPED TO DEAL WITH AND EMPATHIZE WITH BRANDON'S WHOLE CHILD SOLDIER THING

7) SKY AND TIMMY DON'T LIKE RIVEN SO WHO DO YOU THINK KEEPS INVITING RIVEN TO THINGS??? BRANDON

8) WHATS MORE ROMANTIC THAN KISSING THE FIRST PERSON YOU'VE BEGUN TO TRUST IN A LONG TIME???

20000000/20000000 SHIP, PERFECT, NO NOTES

[monkeythefander]

So I posted some Yandere Roman AU art yesterday and ended up coming up with a story/fic idea for the AU. I don’t know if I’ll fully write out a fic. I’m not sure if I’m skilled enough to write out all the typical Yandere violence and stuff. But I thought I’d post the outline/storyline I have so far to see what people think of the idea so far. I also want to try and post more writing besides Headcannons, so that’s another reason for me posting this.

Yandere Roman AU

Content warnings: mentioned fighting/violence, briefly mentioned intrusive thoughts (not in detail), online stalking, obsession (typical Yandere stuff)

Ship mention: Logince

Click below the cute to keep reading

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- Roman had a good childhood. He grew up with his twin brother Remus and two loving parents. Roman also was very social and had a group of friends. He did get jealous a bit easily when his friends hung out without him or started talking to other people over him, but he was able to push those feelings aside quickly.

- Towards the end of middle school, Roman developed him first crush. It was a guy named Luke. Luke was a new friend of Remus’. Luke would come over to the twins house often to hang out with Remus, and Roman couldn’t help but notice how cute Luke was. Remus noticed how Roman looked at Luke and soon started inviting his twin to hang out with him and Luke.

- Roman learned so many cool things about Luke. His favorite color, his hobbies, what classes his took (he also went to their middle school), and Roman became more interested in him. Luke was funny, sweet, and they had some things in common. Roman wanted to spend as much time with Luke and possible and started hanging out with him with Remus around. Luke seemed to enjoy Roman’s company too, so everything seemed perfect.

- This friendship continued in their freshman year of high school (they went to the same school again). As Roman’s feelings continued, staying very strong, the desire to confess grew. But one day at dismissal, Luke approached Roman and Remus holding a girl’s hand. Luke introduced her as Emily, and said she was his girlfriend. Roman was suddenly overcome with overwhelming anger and jealousy. He had never felt so mad before and wanted to punch something (mostly Emily). Remus seemed to sense Roman’s jealousy and said they had to go home now, so conflict was avoided.

- Once away from Luke and Emily, Roman started crying and Remus comforted him. They went home and quickly did homework before watching a happy movie and eating ice cream.

- The next day at school, Roman saw Emily and Luke talking by her locker. The anger and jealousy were back full force, and before Remus could guide Roman away Roman walked over towards the couple and started to hit her. Emily was shocked and tried to fight Roman off and Luke tried to pull Roman away from her, but Roman just shoved Luke away, causing him to hit the lockers and slump against them in pain. Roman kept attacking Emily, not really thinking or seeing clearly, blinded by his rage. Most of the other students in the hallway were staring in shock, and some were even recording. Remus wanted to stop his twin, but after how to shoved Luke away knew it was dangerous, so Remus ran to get a teacher.

- The next thing Roman knew, he was sitting in a chair in the principal’s office, his twin sitting next to him as they waited for their parents to show up. When their parents arrived, the principal informed them of what Roman did and said he would be expelled. The twins’ parents were horrified and disappointed, and didn’t speak a word to Roman on the car ride home. They just asked Remus about his day.

- At home, Roman was finally lectured by his parents. They told him violence is wrong, and when he said he was just very angry and jealous, his parents said that wasn’t an excuse and sent him to his room. He was grounded and had his phone taken away for a month. His parents decided to homeschool him for the rest of his high school career and sent him to an anger management class.

- Remus never brought home a friend again after that day, and Roman could tell his brother was a bit nervous to be around him. Considering Remus deals with some violence related intrusive thoughts, Roman was a bit surprised that Remus wasn’t being more understanding. The twins friendship became fractured that day.

- Once high school graduation came, Remus left for college and didn’t look back. He didn’t talk to Roman over the phone or texts. Roman was left alone with his parents. Roman’s parents didn’t want to send him to college, and just told him to get a job. So Roman got a job as a barista. He enjoyed getting some social interaction, since his family didn’t really talk to him that much after the incident. He thought maybe he could eventually save up enough money to move out into a cheap apartment.

- One morning while working, a cute man walked into the shop and Roman felt his heart skip a beat. The man wore a black polo shirt with blue tie, with some black pants and shoes. His hair was styled nicely and he wore a pair of black glasses over his piercing gray eyes. The man ordered a coffee and blueberry muffin and said to put “Logan” as the name for the order. Roman wanted to try and make conversation but had to focus on taking other people’s orders, and Logan seemed busy checking something on his phone, so didn’t say anything. Logan soon got his order and left, leaving Roman longing to see him again.

- Once home, all Roman could think about was Logan. He hadn’t thought this much about someone since Luke, but his interest in Logan seemed even stronger. Maybe because it’s been so long since he’s desired affection. Roman doesn’t know. But he ends up typing the name Logan into the Instagram search bar to try and find an account that looks like it might be him. After a lot of scrolling he sees a profile picture that looks like Logan. The account @ is loganberryreads. From the looks of the account, Logan is a book YouTuber. His posts vary from photos of books he buys to clips from full YouTube video book reviews. Roman ends up staying up late into the night watching his videos and becoming more entranced by this man.

- The next day at work, Logan appeared at the same time and ordered the same thing. Roman got to be the one to prepare the order this time, so Roman’s heart fluttered as Logan’s hand brushed his as he grabbed his order and thanked Roman before leaving.

————————————-

End Notes: As said above, this is just an outline/story idea at the moment. I don’t know if I’ll try and make this a full fic or not. But this is what I have so far, so I hope you enjoyed reading.

-Monkey💜

[fragileizywriting]

"the reason why you're so let down by your own art is because you have expectations for it," my ceramics teacher told me, senior year of highschool, where i was trying to make something and i was getting frustrated because i didn't have the skills to build it. with that, she'd essentially made me stop crying on the spot— i was sobbing, because i wasn't sure about anything in my future, and we were nearing the end of the year and i couldn't even make one stupid ceramic piece.

at the time, contextually, life was getting hard.

i was practicing 5 hours a day for solo-ensemble; 2 hours during school and 3 hours after, while trying to pass my graduate-required classes, unmedicated with terrible ADHD. i was exhausted. i'd lost a friend group because they didn't like that i was putting music before them, because i wouldn't see them in the mornings because i was busy in the practice rooms with the pianist working on beethoven, of all things, showing up nearly an hour before school opened for classes because i was so unsatisfied...

and idk. the weight just kind of got to me. i won't lie, being 17-18 was hard. it's too much. and i was just having such a bad time, trying to make something in the one class that actually felt like fun, as opposed to singing that had taken over quite literally my whole life. (it dominated. i couldn't do anything. prospects of going professional; of going to a school specifically for music, because i've done it my whole life, played so many instruments and sang for so long, i even had a dream for three months of becoming an opera singer, because there was a local school that practically everyone who was in this section of my hs got shipped off to after they graduated.) so when i couldn't make a simple rectangular prism out of clay, i just started sobbing. full on tears. i couldn't even breathe.

i think i was having a panic attack.

i remember my ceramics teacher so well, how she was one of those old women who drank green and blue smoothies for breakfast and had expressive, abstract acrylic earrings. her art room was a mess, and it was always made worse by just how she lost everything all the time. you couldn't tell if it was grey hair or clay. she had the smallest, narrowest glasses you've ever seen, full of clay on them, too. all she wore was denim overalls, or flightsuits, and it looked nice on her. i think they fit her really well, and hid that she was skinnier than a normal spine.

she just sat me down—- i don't know how she saw me over the stack of massive sketchbooks on her table, the ones that she was grading them for her 2d drawing class—- and told me that.

"the reason why you're so let down by your own art is because you have expectations for it."

god, i was so embarrassed, crying in the middle of class. it was horrible. humiliating. i couldn't stop myself from crying from embarrassment.

i remember asking her, "isn't that the point?" because this was for a grade, i needed points, i needed all As in my classes because that was the only way in to get to the college that i wanted.

"you're being graded on intention, not the actual box. and you're having too much expectation of yourself to make a perfect box and it's hurting you. it doesn't need to be a perfect box. who are you making?"

she was so smart. she'd clocked immediately that i wasn't just making a random box, but rather a way-too-specific design. i told her that i was creating a character of mine.

"he doesn't need to be perfect. i hope he isn't perfect." she kept repeating that over and over again while i broke down in tears again. with one look at my sketchbook, she went: "oh. you don't even need to make a box. if the box isn't working, try making a hotpocket shape. show me that you're having fun. don't spend so much time trying to fix it."

i still have the ceramic i made. i've been digging through my drawers today looking for a notepad when i found him and i got shotblasted back into the past. it's not bad. it's a little broken, because there was always a girl who loved making things to break in the kiln, so some pieces are missing. my box can't even stand on it's own, either, because it tips forward from the weight (and causes it to break more).

i'm glad i made him, anyway. he's really important to me.

[insertsickusername13]

I will not shut up about Michael and Jake being best friends like practically brothers okay I know it's not canon but I do not care in my head it's real OKAY like I imagine them being friends before the whole squip fiasco in a very casual way - during Jake's study hall Michael has a math class he hates and always skips and they smoke weed out on the bleachers together for an hour. They almost never talk but there's a mutual understanding there, a silent companionship.

Then after the play and everything there's a brief moment before Jake finds out the details - why Rich set the fire, the squip, how he was being used by two of his friends - where Michael can prepare him for the damage he's about to experience. Michael lost his best friend to this terrible thing and Jake's about to realize he did too, but Michael has a couple days to enforce this "it's going to be okay, you're worth more than him, there are people here to support you" mindset before it all goes down. He can save him from the worst of the hurt.

Then after that, when Jake manages to rebuild his relationship with Rich and starts to fall in love all over, and is absolutely terrified because all he had was his image - perfect, lovable, straight - and no one could take that from him, but now he's in love? With a boy? He can't do this. And Michael spent the whole musical being inferior to Jake in the eyes of Jeremy, but suddenly Jake is showing up at Michael's house in tears in the middle of the night begging for guidance and help and Michael realizes no, he's not inferior to Jake. There's no comparison between him and Jake - they're just friends. It's not 'Jake the golden boy' and 'Michael the loser' it's just 'Jake and Michael' and whatever imaginary social hierarchy existed between them doesn't matter because Michael will do anything to protect Jake because, as he's slowly realizing, no one else will.

And as an extension to that, because I am not fucking DONE, Jake genuinely admires Michael. Like where Jeremy slowly began to resent Michael's nerdy interests, Jake is so used to shallow conversations and sex that when he goes over to Michael's house and instead of just getting drunk and fucking he gets to hear about some nerdy video game, he's relieved and feels safe. And Jake, as privileged as he is, doesn't even understand the concept of bullying or the social hierarchy, so even when people whisper, he stands by Michael's side. Like where Jeremy was willing to give up Michael for popularity, Jake is willing to learn to give up popularity for Michael. He learns not to care what people think when he walks down the hallway holding hands with Rich. Michael teaches him. And to be valued in such a way - to be admired rather than put down - is foreign to Michael even in his relationship with Jeremy. Like yeah, Michael was happy. He was free and confident in himself. He was okay being nothing. But Jake suddenly makes him aware that he was never nothing, that he didn't need to be okay with being a loser because, in Jake's eyes, he wasn't. He was just Michael. And Jake sees that - he sees Michael growing more confident in himself, more willing to set boundaries and stand up for himself rather than just be berated. And he's so happy to see Michael happy, so happy to have found this weird version of family after his was taken from him.

Their friendship comes out of nowhere, and everyone's confused when they suddenly appear as best friends. Why did Jake ask for Michael when Chloe found him crying on the floor? Why is Jake the first to offer to go with Michael to weird conventions and concerts? When did they have time to form such a deep friendship? But they're both so happy, and they learn so much from each other, that everyone decides to leave it alone and just let them be.

I ship Rich and Jake so hard romantically, hence me writing so much fanfiction about them, but I swear if someone asked me to I could write an entire novel about Jake and Michael learning to love each other and themselves okay

[jesuis-melodrama]

TV Show Proposals

Just in case a TV show executive is scrolling through Tumblr searching for their next big hit, here are some proposals from a humble yet rabid media consumer.

More Than Meets the Eye

What do you know about Transformers? That this 1980s cartoon TV series started off as a ploy to sell toys, but impacted their audience so much children were walking out of movie theatres crying when Hasbro literally executed their first line of products in order to introduce the second?

The beginning of Transformers were conceived in the same faith multiple other 1980s cartoon were made – as product advertisement to sell children toys. My Little Pony, Carebears, He-Man, G.I. Joe – they appealed to the violent and action-oriented or cutesy and fashion-oriented subnature of young children, so they could in turn badger their parent to splurge money on figures of their favourite character and any future accessories at the local toy mart.

The fan reception to the Transformers film (1986) allowed studio executives to realise Transformers had something more to it than advertising potential. And fastforward thirty years later when Micheal Bay took the reins to produce the multimillion live-action series, firmly cemented Transformers in its place in American pop-culture.

Although Transformers was always political – the entire Autobot vs Deception concept was based off the Cold War tension at the time of writing the original series – over the years this mostly negligible baseline has been heightened, especially in IDW comic's publishing. From apartheid society, right to self-autonomy, and state-mandated divide of class based on function, certain part of Transformers lore has become 'realistic' enough to be uncomfortable. Even when the characters are giant mecha-alien robots, there is an undeniable human element beneath all the armour.

I am not proposing a TV show of all of IDW's comics, just the More Than Meets the Eye and Lost Light series.

I acknowledge, foremost, that there are already serious issues with only animating this singular storyline alone. IDW, after all, has a near two-decade long history, and animating a stand-alone chapter that happens in the middle of the series is not going to help any new fans or consumers. Additionally, many beloved Transformers legacy characters are not going to appear in the narrative at all, bringing up the question of More Than Meets the Eye's marketability. Inspiring-Prime Rodimus will be leading a 200-bot ship of famously C and D-list characters (many who has since reached fandom fame for the roles they played in MTMTE and Lost Light); and when Bumblebee, Starscream, and Shockwave does come into play, finally, their position in the plot will be extraordinarily confusing unless the reader already knows the comics backstory.

Either way, I think that if some studio executive want to take a risk, they should do so anyway. More Than Meets the Eye was the first Transformers comic I actually read, when I knew absolutely nothing about the IDW lore and was only basing all my knowledge on the Bayverse films, and even though I didn't know who most of the characters are, it took barely five issues to get attached. I found myself intrigued by the witty writing, clever characters, gorgeous art, and the ever-desirable camaraderie that formed between this unlikely found-family group of bots.

More Than Meets The Eye was honestly magical to read, I genuinely believe my life and life philosophy had become better after consuming those 54 issues.

Other issues in producing a More Than Meets the Eye TV show relates to the lack of human characters, as human characters has become a prime template for the human audience to project themselves upon, and More Than Meets the Eye is also notoriously un-child-friendly. From characters such as Overlord to Tarn, or Megatron himself. Torture, murder, concentration camps, cannibalism – the comics illustrate the worst of what a galaxy-wide war between a hard-scrabbling general and a genocidal warlord could produce, and it does not shy away from the details.

More Than Meets the Eye is also a story of redemption. Multiple characters throughout the series – literal war criminals, self-deprecating, suicidal, cruel in the way that those who have given up are cruel – learn to give a damn, to realise how to live for a better tomorrow.

And the two defining titans of the entire franchise meet some of the best writing that has ever been given to them. They don't appear until the second half of the story or they don't appear much at all, but don't let their scarcity convince you of the quality of their characterisation. The writers of More Than Meets The Eye love every character, those who were destined to fade into obscurity and those who were never meant to be in the limelight, and it shows. IDW's Megatron isn't a true villain in the way that Optimus Prime couldn't live up to his untouchable hero image, but this does not mean that Megatron hasn't willingly and gleefully committed evil and Optimus hasn't done the best and the most righteous a leader in his position in the middle of a robot holocaust could've.

Making a More Than Meets The Eye TV show is risky. One hundred percent. It's in the middle of a series that a reader need background knowledge for, it has no human characters, its robot characters aren't exactly winning any popularity contests, and it cannot be marketed towards a general audience.

But More Than Meets the Eye has won two Comics Alliance award for good reason, and it has certainly convinced this Transformers-curious reader with no prior knowledge to become a lifelong fan of the entire franchise.

And I am not the one who sees the potential in a TV series. To any executive who has somehow read till the end of this post, check out these fantastic animations by passionate fans and artists:

魏威安's animated summary of the entire IDW comic history, just to give you an idea of the scope you're dealing with here.

Spooky Unicornus's heartwarming Christmas-themed short, with some fantastic lighting and movement.

The Alexicon's mock trailer.

This disconcerting comics-accurate short by OMUSUNDA featuring some brilliant voice-acting by a Scottish Skids –

– and a compilation of Ultra Magnus featuring his Animated voice from the same artist.

The Arcane-fication of Overwatch

I am not a gamer. I don't own any console systems, my iMac is pretty but cannot run computer games, and my favourite game is actually this mobile app called Bullet Echo, which I will proudly announce I am quite good at. Shout out to my main hero, Mirage.

But I have watched literally every single one of Overwatch's animated cinematic shots. And I am fascinated. The storytelling, the animation, the characters and their designs. I love all their accents, the little nods to their culture, and overall, the camaraderie between Overwatch members, although their interactions are brief.

I'm getting the slowly coagulating imagery of a truly fascination techno-dystopian world, a classic tale of a future gone wrong and heroes that rose up to the challenge.

I have heard and read some criticism about Overwatch's lore, that it's simplistic and is weak, lacking in any kind of depth. If this is true, I will claim ignorance to the fact that I have not played a single game. As an animation-enthuasist, I have simply watched the cinematic shorts over and over again, and is enchanted by the short bursts of story I've seen there.

I've never played League of Legends either, and I can bet most of those who watched Arcane never did as well. But Arcane was enjoyable for both hardcore gamers and first-time fans anyway. It had something for the general unfamiliar audience while throwing out some service to those that followed the franchise for a long time. And the trick to maintaining this balance is simple: good writing, writers that care.

So – Arcane-ficiation of Overwatch. Am I going to play Overwatch one day? Unlikely. But would I sit down and watch a TV series about it? Definitely. Comments on Overwatch's cinematic shorts always snarkly points out that the movies are better than the game and the producers should realise where to throw in their funds. I won't cast my own judgement upon these opinions as I, once again, have not played a single game. But I hope some Blizzard executives are warming up to the idea. After all, video game-based TV series has been gaining traction over the past few years. Just look at Arcane, or The Witcher, or The Last of Us. Dungeons and Dragons even managed a big feature blockbuster, with a pretty star-studded cast.

A brief list of my favourite Overwatch shorts, judged by not ranked on story, animation, and voice-acting.

Percy Jackson

An animated Percy Jackson series.

I know there's a live-action series of Percy Jackson coming out next year, and so far, it seems pretty hopeful. The actors are age accurate, the set design looks amazing, and Rick Riordian himself approves of the series.

Thing is, I grew up reading Percy Jackson and was violently passionate about the series once, back when the live-action movies were the ire of the fandom and the fanart, especially those of Viria's, were so popular they were considered canon. Canon enough that the official Percy Jackson wiki page actually eventually hired Viria to make their official character art.

There was even this petition to make an animated series with Viria's art that I remember signing a couple years ago.

Nowadays, artists likes velinxi has also become fandom staples in defining the stylised appearances of the characters, especially regarding the likeness of the Big Three.

This is one TV show that I'm not too invested about – as animated series with Overwatch and More Than Meets the Eye could be considered inevitable to the franchise at this point while Percy Jackson is significantly more popular and enjoy more medias, blockbusters alongside comics books, a musical, and the upcoming DisneyPlus+ TV series.

Just saying, fans manifested Viris's art being canon enough that the prophecy has been fulfilled. And if 50 000 fans signed a petition to make Viria's art an animated TV show – who knows?

Hamiltion

This is the long shot, I know. Hamilton is probably the most successful musical of this generation, and for good reason. I personally has never seen so much passion, clever lyricism, historical significance, and art stuffed within two hours.

My knowledge of musicals is that usually maybe about 40-70% of the show is sung while the rest is acted. Not for Hamilton, the actors truly push their physicality and vocal cords to the limit by turning it up to 200 percent for the entire performance. Renée Elise Goldsberry sang and rapped and delivered a masterful rendition of emotion during Satisfied (one of my favourite songs, ever) alone. No other musical has come close to Hamilton's set design and sophisication in my humble opinion, and I bet it will be a very long time before another musical that is released will come close.

Here, I am not only proposing the possibility of a TV show, but also a movie. There are many loose-ends in Hamilton that Lin-Manuel Miranda mentioned could not be covered in the play due to time constraints, such as the question as to what happened to Peggy.

A TV show could give the producers plenty of time to expand on fan-favourite moments, such as the Winter Ball or the battlefield scenes along with typing up loose ends. More time could also introduce more songs, and embellish the visual design further with on-site landscape, although the question of whether or not this will elevate the musical's appeal is debatable as Hamilton's single room, rotating dais set has become synonymous with the show and an archetypal of ingenious on-stage set design. Again, like with Percy Jackson, not too fussed about the possibility of Hamilton making it onto the big screen. But just throwing the idea there.

[dragonofeternal]

2 tag memes

I got tagged in two different memes this week! Yaaay~

Current things tag meme!

Tagged by @ghoul-misadventures

3 ships: Millionsummers, Vashwood, LeoJoker

Last song: "radio protector" by 65daysofstatic

Currently reading: The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle

Currently watching: I don't really watch a lot of TV, but I have been on and off binging through the "how it's actually made" parody dub-overs by huggbees on youtube. I also want to check out Flanagan's "Fall of the House of Usher" but starting shows is hard for me XDD

Last movie: uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh assuming that hours long youtube documentaries don't count, then I think the last thing I watched might have been the fucking FF7 Advent Children Director's Cut that we rewatched over the summer. (I feel like I've watched something since then but I can't. Remember. What it would have been. So. Yeah.)

Currently consuming: After binging through it in like 2 days, I am now more slowly replaying through Paranormasight

Currently craving: hot chocolate bc it's really cold and rainy here =A=

15 people 15 questions tag meme

tagged by @rosemirmir!

1. are you named after anyone? My first name is the name of my cut-throat great- (or was it great-great?) grandmother who earned the family fortune, and my middle name came from my mom's college roommate.

2. when was the last time you cried? Uhhhh... Like... a couple therapy sessions ago? I have a really good therapist, so we're working on a lot of shit, but unfortunately that means I cry somewhat frequently ><

3. do you have kids? Nope! Not really my scene, but more power to those who do.

4. what sports do you play/have you played? I did basketball on and off in elementary school, and my high school tried to get me to join the basketball team there too, but uhhh I wanted to do theatre more and I only had time to do one or the other. Not a "sport" but I'm gonna be taking an aerial silks class soon!

5. do you use sarcasm? Never. (yes)

6. what’s the first thing you notice about people? I don't. (I dunno? Height? I'll be honest and say I'm not the most observant about other people lol)

7. what’s your eye color? Blue~

8. scary movies or happy endings? That's a weird dichotomy to present XDDD I guess happy endings if we're talking movies, because I prefer horror in games, writing, comics, and audio mediums slightly more than movies.

9. any talents? Writing and acting spring to mind as two that are both "I've always been fairly talented in this" and "I have worked a lot to hone this skill."

10. where were you born? DC~

11. what are your hobbies Numerous. Uhhh, I write, I draw, I play video and tabletop games, I take walks, I enjoy watching anime and getting way too serious about it.....

12. do you have any pets? We have four cats at home! Two are technically "mine" and Killians, and two are technically Pat's, but yeah. They're good kitties

13. how tall are you? 5'9"

14. favorite subject in school? History! (Though I also honestly very much enjoyed Math bc it was one of the easiest to keep on top of homework and shit in lol)

15. dream job Honestly I'm really, really happy with my current job. It's not anything I necessarily would have expected being like HOMGORZ DREAM JOBBBBB but it's like? Really fulfilling and enjoyable? So uh. Admin for an LGBTQ Health Equity Center XDDD.

tagging @rosemirmir @ghoul-misadventures @arahith @onlines @clockworkspider @setsuntamew @ehyde @jacenbren @orcelito @xx-bluesummers-xx and whoever else feels inspired to do either of these in the most "seriously no pressure guys just do it if you feel like it" way XDD

[spursdontplaybasketball]

Talk Hockey to Me

tagged by @giirlinterrupted 🤍💙

Tell me about:

1. The thing that got you hooked on hockey

I grew up in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, about an hour south of Hershey, PA. My dad grew up going to watch the Hershey Bears play minor league hockey in the American Hockey League, and he continued the tradition with me (and my sister sometimes.) At first, I only really liked to go to the games for an opportunity to spend time with my dad, which was rare sometimes, but in middle school I somehow ended up being really good at floor hockey when we played it in gym class. One day I managed to score a hat trick, even though I was terrible at every other sport. (I also had a crush on one of the players on my school's hockey team at that point.) So I just kinda thought hockey was fun at that point and started enjoying the actual games more. Then I picked a favorite player from the Bears independently for the first time, and it was Mike Green. I didn't know much about him, just thought he was cool. He turned out to be really good, and when he got called up to the NHL to play for the Capitals, I started watching the Caps games on TV. (I was also lucky that we got the sports channel from Washington DC, despite not being all that close to there.)

2. Your first ever fandom friend

I'm not too established in the hockey fandom on here. I have a personal blog that I rarely use anymore that I used to post occasional Caps stuff on and follow a few Capitals people, but that's on a different account that I rarely use. I know hockey has become a lot more popular on footieblr over the years. I remember a few years back when it was more unusual for these fandoms to overlap that I sent a message or two to people who were in both fandoms that I thought it was cool that they liked both sports like I do. Basically my only hockey friend on here is @giirlinterrupted (and I'm so grateful that she doesn't put Sidney Crosby on my dash like so many other footieblr hockey fans seem to do.) IRL I have been surrounded by hockey fans most of my life though, because it's pretty big in my state in general, so the main time I felt a little more alone on that was the 2 1/2 years I was living in San Francisco. Unfortunately I am currently surrounded by Penguins fans :( as I am living in Pittsburgh. My IRL best friend is also into hockey, but she is a Sabres fan since she is from Buffalo and now lives in Rochester, NY.

3. The jersey you would most like to own

I wish I had an old Mike Green or Jay Beagle Caps jersey. Mike Green is now retired, and Jay Beagle, I don't even know.

4. YOUR player (you only get ONE so choose wisely)

I still have an unhealthy attachment to Jay Beagle even though he's been off the Caps for years. None of the current players can live up to that.

5. A pairing that deserves more fic

Don't really read fic much, but Ovi/Backstrom (I'm so out of the loop that I don't even know if they have a ship name) are adorable together, and idk how popular they are, at least outside of Caps fans.

6. Your favourite on-ice moment

6/7/18. What else? I still cry when I think about it sometimes, and I can barely listen to "I Will Wait" by Mumford and Sons without crying due to that "Worth the Wait" video the Caps put out on social media after the Cup win.

link someone else's art/fic/etc that you love & think everyone should check out

He's here on Tumblr (@mxgicdave) but I could only find my favorite pic of his on Twitter:

link something you made & are proud of & want people to see

Got nothing. I tried to write a few things about hockey in the past, but not since I was like 13. I was writing a story about a minor league hockey player whose playing got impacted by past trauma. Didn't get very far, then I was also trying to write a murder mystery featuring the Capitals, and I got even less far with that.

no pressure tagging:

I have no one to tag! :(