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canmom · 3 months ago

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booksbooksbooks - "yeah ok uh. you're worthless! how about that!"

I read Tell Me I'm Worthless by Alison Rumfitt! I have previously talked about Brainwyrms on here, her second novel; this is her first, and honestly they are such similar books (thematically, structurally, stylistically - it's possible even that they are in a shared continuity) that a second comment almost feels redundant - but then it turned out I had a lot to say when I got into it. Spoilers below, though I think most of the effect of this book is how it's told rather than what happens.

(Also: the recent bookcrit posts will sometime soon be making their way to canmom.art for easier reading - I've rather dragged my feet on that but Soon(TM).)

So this is a haunted house book that's about fascism. You know it's about fascism before the book even begins, since it says as much in the content warning. More specifically it's about British fascism, personified in an evil house called Albion at the edge of Brighton that corrupts all around it, drawing people in and bringing out the fascist mindset in them.

It would be reasonable to fear this might end up as a polemic loosely packaged as a novel - even if an absolutely on-point and warranted polemic. You can absolutely see how characters fit into the 'argument': a white trans woman who has not fully escaped her racist upbringing on the one hand, her Jewish-Pakistani girlfriend* who runs into the arms of the TERF movement on the other, their blonde cis third wheel who is the first to be fully corrupted by the House. A plot hinging on conflicting accusations of rape; the house itself being established through a series of eugenicist murders. And on top of that, in between parts you get some quotes from, variously: Félix Guattari's Everybody Wants to be a Fascist, Isabel Fall's Helicopter Story, Umberto Eco's Ur-Fascism, a Stewart Lee skit, and William Blake's A Little Boy Lost (primarily for the 'Albion' pull I think).

*actually a deep closeted trans guy, wouldn't ya know it

I think it would be easy to find this directness kind of annoying, but what makes it work for me is largely its style. Rumfitt has a hell of an ability to set a mood and environment, to convey the all-too-real bitterness and pain of its characters in circumstances I recognise. It is a story more than willing to veer into delirious fever-dream streams of consciousness or to spend a few pages quoting some fetishist imageboard rant at length. But more important is the genuine and raw anger of the author that seems to run through it: when the narration slips into addressing the reader, it feels like the intensity of feeling can't be contained in fictional devices anymore. The word 'sharp' is surely a cliché, but this is the kind of book to leave you looking up and going 'phew' between chapters. It works because it is able to make you feel the bleakness that its narrative demands.

(Possibly a relevant comparison at this point would be Sálo, but something to develop another time.)

At the same time, it's a book that is so blatantly About Stuff that it's almost impossible to read it simply as a novel. It has a certain degree of mystery structure (what happened in the House? what became of Hannah? who raped who?) and escalating waves of intensity to pull you along, it's got setups and payoffs and callbacks as the ideas raised early in the story bloom again in the final blast of words, but it's not really something you can simply take as a haunted-house story. Some of the biggest horror scenes would be kind of completely ridiculous without the metaphor-drenched context.

We can describe the main beats, all the same.

the bit where I summarise the plot

Alice and Ila are two survivors of an ill-fated expedition into an abandoned house. Alice (trans girl) is haunted by something which manifests in the form of a stain on the wall, and when she covers it by a picture of a racist singer from the 80s who she once admired, his phantom (it's presumably Morrissey, but they book doesn't ever name him). she gets by through shooting sissy hypnosis videos for clients who have her say all sorts of dubious racist shit. Ila (cis) has been welcomed as a token brown woman for the TERF movement, getting interviewed on the radio and invited to conferences. Both of them remember being raped and multilated by the other during the visit to the House - more on that anon. The third member of the party, Hannah, entered with them but never left the House.

Alice's closest thing to friends are a hetero couple of hard partiers; the guy Jon is into knifeplay and it's clearly not something his partner is all on board with. She tries to hook up with a girl but the Morrissey-haunting scares her away, providing some setup for the concepts of haunting this book will use. Ila, meanwhile, is almost raped by another TERF after recounting her story at a conference; the woman in question preemptively DARVOs her on social media so she won't tell. Some other cis(?) girl who Ila had deliriously called a tranny during sex (thanks House!) seconds it. Throughout all this, Ila has been frequently messaging Alice asking to talk again.

The narrative jumps around; we gradually learn more about the circumstances of their previous trip into the House (named Albion by its first two inhabitants), and its history: built by a gay guy in a period that would get you arrested and named Albion by his 15-year-old lover, then the site of a series of eugenicist murders (with explicit allusion to Bluebeard); in modern times, the random suicides it inflicts on the people in the buildings around it, etc. It's a real bad House

So, Hannah (cis, straight) had been feeling third-wheeled by the couple Alice and Ila. We get some flashbacks as Hannah: that time Alice and Ila had sex on the beach and Hannah totally heard it all, that time Hannah hooked up with a black guy and Alice and Ila were kind of assholes to him... When they enter the house together, Hannah becomes separated and drawn to the red room at the heart of the house. When Alice and Ila enter, Hannah is fully claimed by the House and physically transformed into a human swastika, and the narrative splits in two as both Alice and Ila enact brutal rapes on each other; in one version, Alice cuts 'ARBEIT MACHT FREI' into Ila's belly, in the other, Ila cuts a symbolic vagina into Alice's scalp. The two of them leave the House with these injuries, and the narrative pointedly refuses to tell us that one is the real course of events, or that something else happened.

Ila contacts Alice and convinces her to return to the House to put an end to it. They try to have sex and they're not feeling it; then they have nasty politicised sex, which gives the book its title:

“Call me it, please,” she says. “Call you what?” “You know. You know you want to, as well.” She hesitates for a moment. But Alice is right. She does want to. “You fucking tranny,” Ila moans. “God. Fuck. Please.” The pleasure is nearly unbearable for Alice. “Do it again. Tell me what you think of me, what you really think of me. Tell me I’m nothing. Tell me I’m worthless.” “You,” Ila grabs Alice’s hair, “are a fucking worthless tranny.”

Finally the two go into the House and we enter a kind of fever dream of an alternative fascist-ruled timeline in the green and pleasant lands where Mosley plays on the radio, Alice never transitions and marries Hannah and kills herself, Ila is deported to unknown quarters, and then in a parallel vision they both embrace while respectively self-disembowelling and bleaching -

then, finally we get a version where they escape alive and burn the House, only for its curse to continue to affect the next building to be built there, which gives rise to a bomber who bombs the Pride parade where Alice and Harry (formerly Ila) are walking together. But they hold each other in the ashes. t4t end.

You get all that?

I'm leaving out various dream sequences, flashbacks, and meditations on the state of things, like the factory or the, 'shitty transvestite pigs', which could honestly be said to be more important than the narrative itself.

fascism then

So for a book that is so much about fascism, what does it actually have to say on the subject? The facet of fascism examined here is mostly of the online-radicalisation or unspoken-sentiment type, the thing you tell yourself is a joke until you stop telling yourself that. The characters are carrying intrusive patterns of thought, taking different but similar forms for each. The House, or the ideology, feeds on their interpersonal resentments and drives them towards self-destructive cruelty.

In the narration that is (at least at times) their train of thought, they ask themselves why they stay in the House, or get drawn back. The closest thing to an answer comes, in Hannah's point of view, shortly before the dual rape scene:

Alice tried to kick open the door, but it wouldn’t move, however hard she kicked. It felt like there was nothing on the other side of the door – that it wasn’t a door at all, but the border to the world, and the inside of this room was the entire world. If you were to open the door you would find… what? The world outside is dark and unknowable. In the room you are safe. You are subject to violence, abuse, mistreatment, hurt, pain, all of the above, but you are safe from what is outside the room and that is what matters, inside the room is the pain you know, outside the room is the pain you do not know, it’s not a hard choice to make in the end, to sit here ‘neath the burning sun of her body, (...)

But more than that, fascism is some kind of permanent infestation. The House itself is at once England (as the name Albion suggests) and the persistent, seemingly eternal infestation of fascist ideology, which are pretty much one and the same - a country so racist that it will vote to kill its own immune system right before a global pandemic, a country so racist that the very ground stinks, a country so racist that your seemingly left-liberal parents have a map of the British Empire hanging on their wall (excerpted from the middle of a run-on-sentence too long to reproduce here).

So Alice and Ila confront their dalliance with fascism by returning to the House, and in a sense purge themselves through this catabasis; but fascism is not destroyed when the House is ruined, or burned down, or replaced with flats, and keeps growing back to consume more lives.

Mostly the thing the book seems to have to say about fascism is it's fucking everywhere and it's terrifying, a sentiment that is hard to disagree with. But it also has a fair bit to say in depicting its dynamics in the modern world.

What of this dual rape scene then? There is a scornful paragraph at one point about how the social-justice rules of engagement totally fail, mockingly describing how you could plug the two characters into an intersectionality calculator to determine who has narrative authority here, ending with this remark:

So, there’s just two girls leaving a house and maybe you don’t have to take a side, maybe you can empathise with them both and hope they get the therapy and help they need and can learn to forgive one another. No. You can’t do that. Are you a fucking idiot? Are you that fucking stupid that you genuinely think you can do that and that something like that is possible?

At the same time as presenting this situation of absolute ambiguity, the book doesn't seem shy about acknowledging there are straight up bad actors, whether Jon or the older TERF; recurring more than once is the idea of the moves a rapist might make to silence a victim or witness. All sorts of lines: "I'm too important to the movement, think of what would happen", or blatant lies, "it's the only way [the unconscious person] can get off".

All of this, frankly, accords with my experience of the world; these are all things that happen. If it revels a little in setting up these little ironies in its account of the TERF movement (elsewhere we see Ila making up stories to post on a forum that is obviously Mumsnet), it is also painfully cognisant of the ugly dynamics of accusations. Elsewhere this very website gets a shoutout! In an Alice POV chapter:

When I was about fifteen, I used the website Tumblr. It still exists, as far as I know. It was a strange place, and it’s hard to even describe how the culture of it felt when you were part of it: at times welcoming and at times unbearably tense. It was the first time I really read about what being trans was, and it was also where I was sent endless anonymous messages telling me to kill myself. People would often accuse others of things, baselessly, and those accusations would stick to them however much they tried to shake them away. One of my Tumblr mutuals was accused of being a paedophile and a Nazi. We hadn’t really talked much at all – she’d re-blogged my selfies a few times, and I hadn’t thought much about that until people started to accuse her. I began to wonder what her intentions had been when she shared a fifteen-year-old’s selfies. She denied these accusations, of course. Anyone would. She claimed that the people accusing her of being a paedophile and a Nazi were TERFS – and the problem was that some of them were. Or had, at least, started to share TERF rhetoric onto their blogs. Which made sense… they had just been exploited by an older trans woman, and suddenly these other older women were telling them, oh, come join us. There’s a pattern to this, and we don’t have to accept it as normal. I didn’t understand it at the time, I was just angry, angry and confused, but I get it now, with Ila spooning me. I understand why she is the way she is. I hope she understands why I am like I am, too. (...dialogue about the House happens...) I stopped using Tumblr shortly after that whole affair, and after having other people creep on me too – most notably a nineteen-year-old fat rights activist who seemed obsessed with my hair. I turned to 4chan and other forums in that vein, where, even if there were Nazis and paedophiles, at least they were generally honest about being those things, even as they remained anonymous. It felt better to know that I was talking to someone who liked to masturbate over little boys than to talk to someone and find that out about them later.

I was a bit older than the fictional Alice when I arrived on here, and I've never had the sense to leave lmao, but this accords well enough with my experience - notably, I strongly recall how a certain opposed accusation of rape/abuse (with knifeplay involved!) torpedoed the simplistic 'believe accusations' worldview I had held onto up to that point. The girls involved became a cause célèbre for two rival factions in the trans scene at the time, with who you believed largely depending on who your friends were, each rallying to defend theirs and cast the others as apologists. Ironically, both those groups would later fall apart.

Whatever parallels I might draw to touchy real life history, we can certainly see here some of the devices this book likes to use: a long personal illustrative anecdote of some messy shit, seguing into a moment of narration and a remark that connects it to the present, and helps sketch its characters as the extrusion of much-larger social forces. It is not easy to adequately capture complexity without getting completely lost in mush, and I think this book manages solidly. (I am tempted to draw certain parallels to works like Psycho Nymph Exile which address similar dynamics, but that would be way more than I want to get into right now).

It is strange reading this book, in many ways. I have only been in Bright a few times, but once was indeed for a Trans Pride, and I remember sitting on the beach described in the book (I went home before anyone started fucking). I may not have shown up to some anti-TERF demo, but I know well the 'tuneless chants' that Ila derides in her early POV chapter. So many trans books are American, and here is one that is furiously British, and that certainly strikes a chord.

With everything so caught up in magic and metaphor, what can we pull out of our own immersion in this book's wash of terrible images? Simply to love each other defiantly, in the spirit of the old songs? I recall talking with @thesiltverses on how horror and dystopian fiction undermines itself by presenting a relief at the end, and I am inclined to agree. There is no relief here, no 'this is what we need to do to counter the rise of fascism'; it is a story that ends only in a tragic moment of defiance, tinged with that little cynical detail, after a fascist bombs a Pride parade:

He goes to her, on his hands and knees, rubble and blood and bodies all around them. The police, the ambulance, the news crews. They are coming. Photographers are taking pictures of them, and they will put these pictures on the front pages of newspapers, and the picture will be with them forever, they won’t ever escape it, two trans people covered in blood and embracing amidst the carnage. The photographer who gets the image wins a prize for it. They don’t know that yet. They only know this: Harry crawls towards Alice with the last of his strength, his arms outstretched and reaching. The rain will come. When it does it will be bloody. The future will be red-tinted and unknowable, but they will be together. Come to me now, mouths Alice. Hold me.

I feel like this is the tone of a lot of recent tranny-adjacent fiction: we cannot stop them coming, but we will live furiously all the same: a story about the possibility of a pocket of change, that two people so thoroughly corrupted by the House could move past it. Is that all we can hope for? If we can win more, it's probably not for a horror novel to say so.

I know I know at least one person who has known Alison Rumfitt, the UK trans scene being what it is. I'm glad her book is resonating with people, if it is only those who show up at queer bookshops (shoutout to Category Is books where I got my physical copy). We are certainly experiencing a moment for grimdark fiction, and while that suits my tastes rather more than the 'cosy', I distrust any self-congratulation about being soooo transgressive and nasty compared to those pathetic wimpy steven universe gays. This, however, is something quite different: it's nasty because it's simply extremely pointed and the subject kind of demands it.

A couple of weeks ago I was discussing with some people at the film festival about how you'd do a film adaptation of this book. Having now read it, I'm scratching my head - it seems rather unfilmable, because so much of what it's saying is caught up in internal monologues and devices of narration that would hardly translate to the screen. But hey, you know what, if someone tries, I want to see.

#fiction #horror #alison rumfitt #novels #sff

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octuscle · 1 year ago

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hey support, I need some help. So I work as a waiter at a restaurant and we recently got bought out by one of these giant chains. They’re very big on this whole “Australian theme” and already started redecorating and stuff. They were at least nice enough to not fire the staff so we all still have jobs, but they keep saying that we need to get into the company’s mindset. And recently I’ve been noticing I’ve been calling my friends “mate” and my voice keeps cracking. Everyone else seems to be fine with it but I don’t like it ‘ere.

You're actually a waiter trained in top gastronomy. You don't know what bothers you more. The quaint and rustic new interior. Or your very casual dress code. You're no longer allowed to come freshly shaved. And your shirts must have at least the top two buttons undone. And the sleeves must be rolled up at least to the elbows. It looks really ridiculous with your thin arms. Anyway, you need the job. So put on a good face. And greet your next guests.

"Welcome ta the grill downundah. I'm christian 'n i'm yah waider fawr tonight. Can i get ya somethin' ta drink already?" You almost have to bite your tongue. Did you really just say that? Your guests look at each other and start to laugh. "Wonderful, so authentic!" says the woman to her companion.

The evening is hell. At the beginning, you try to speak sensibly. But especially with your colleagues, you speak in a language that sounds more like a dock worker than a waiter. In fact, the tips that evening are not bad at all. And the crocodile fillet served after work is actually quite tasty.

The next morning you have the breakfast shift. Getting up early has never been a problem for you. You do a few push-ups to get your circulation going, spread two slices of bread with Vegemite, drink your filter coffee, get on your bike and set off. You like the morning shift. The air is fresh. And you like setting up the tables on the terrace. At least it's physical work for once. Not that the 20,000 steps you take a day aren't strenuous enough. But carrying the tables also exercises your upper body. And as long as the store is still closed, you can do it bare-chested. You love making your pecs dance. And you like the smell of fresh male sweat. And most of your customers love that too.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look a bit like one of the Hemsworth brothers?" the hot guest flirts with you. He looks like a model himself. You smile your $5,000 smile and say "Hey, I'm Liam's hotder cousin, ya bastahrd! Too right, mate." He smiles back at you and asks what you're doing after work today.

You love this damn job here. Working in this restaurant won't make you homesick for Sidney. Just real honest Australian mates working here. You go through the fire together. No matter how awful your guests can be, you're always in a good mood. Because you know that at the end of a hard day's work, there's at least one good shag in the staff toilet.

And if things go really well, you and your mates play a bit of football in the park afterwards. None of that sissy American stuff. Australian football. Sport for real men. The kind that only exists down under.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #ai image

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brandogenius · 9 months ago

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neeed more phoebe and ya similar to spiraling fic i love their relationship so bad

(this has been in my drafts for a while + not proofred. was contemplating on posting it or not but have y’all phoebe & younger artist crumbs)

‼️RPF‼️

ONE SHOT - phoebe & younger artist - frustration

word count: 673

“i can sense tension” you stopped strumming your guitar, hands sweaty, fingers callused, frustration and anxiety settled deep in your chest. phoebe was stood at the opened door to the backstage room, staff and crew were flying past phoebe at a million miles per second, busy and in a hurry to get ready for the show tonight.

“the vision.. isn’t visioning- this stupid guitar” you grumbled, roughly setting the guitar down onto the ground by your feet. your notes app was opened on your phone, disregarded to the side of the couch. phoebe walked over, sitting down beside you. “im sure it is-“

“it’s really not.” you cut phoebe off with a heavy sigh as uou ran a hand through your hair in frustration. it wasn’t working and it had you stressed- nothing was working. everything was wrong. lyrics written in the notes app but no cords or pattern seemed to fit the vibe. you gave up

“the struggles of being a musician. we’ve all been there.” phoebe chuckled to herself. picking up the acoustic guitar and propping it into her lap. she busied herself by messing around with chords she heard you play.

“how can you just..pick up from me and create a good melody? why doesn’t it work for me?” you huffed in defeat, slouching back on the couch, eyes scanning phoebe, analysing what she’s doing.

“practice makes perfect. it’s a cheesy saying but it’s true. every musician gets frustrated or burnt out like you are right now. but, that’s what makes a good musician. progression” she stopped strumming, turning to face you with a serious look on her face.

“you can’t force things to happen. it’ll happen naturally. i usually look at stuff for inspiration. go on writing trips, listen to other music. if i find a song that has a good melody, i’ll write down the chord progressions and take inspiration from them” she turned back to the guitar and started to tune it.

“yeah- i get that. sometimes i just feel like.. i’m not a good musician. nothing works right, lyrics are shitty. i look at other songs by i don’t know- muna and i think woah- how can they do that but i’m here like-“

“i’m stopping you right there, kid” phoebe talked over you, sensing where this is going. “i’m not having a repeat of last month. we do not compare ourselves to other musicians and singers. each to their own uniqueness and individuality” she placed the guitar down, turning to face you directly, sitting criss crossed on the couch.

“yeah but-“

“respectfully dude, shut up. you’re an amazing and super talented singer and musician. you put yourself down too much and i don’t like that. that’s not a healthy mindset to have. comparing yourself to other people isn’t good either.”

you looked down at your hands, picking at the nail polish.

“everyone has their own flaws, i do, you do- julien and lucy do too. you let yourself spiral from overthinking about something small to getting yourself worked up and then put yourself in a bad mood which is not good. you can’t be doing this kid, it’s not good for your mental health”

“i don’t really need a lecture from you” you sighed, looking up and staring at the ceiling.

“i’m not gonna lecture you. im only stating the obvious. you’re young, you have so much ahead of you, so much to live for and see. you don’t need to put yourself down. you don’t understand how cool and talented you are. when i first met you i was like ‘damn, that kid’s cool as heck’ and im right!”

you couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head a bit. phoebe grinned.

“see? i made you laugh” she patted your thigh and stood up. “don’t spiral into negative thoughts alright? if you find yourself doing it, just come talk to me. don’t bottle shit up until you get frustrated and take your anger out on the poor guitar, alright kid?”

“yeah- i guess so”

“good”

#pom writes #young artist au #phoebe bridgers au #phoebe bridgers angst #phoebe bridgers blurb #phoebe bridgers headcanons #phoebe bridgers fluff #phoebe bridgers one shot #phoebe bridgers fanfic #phoebe bridgers x reader #boygenius x reader #boygenius fanfic #boygenius au #boygenius one shot #boygenius blurb #boygenius headcanons #boygenius angst #boygenius fluff

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asagi-red-wolf · 2 years ago

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Headcanon: Stolas + Social Cues

Before I start, this is meant to be more of a HEADCANON than a THEORY- please don’t come into my inbox or onto this post to debunk it, I sincerely do not care, there are 100% completely valid reads on Stolas and concepts like willfull ignorance and even pushing his own agenda out of entitlement- I won’t argue with those reads, so please don’t argue with mine, it’s just my personal opinion as an autistic person with trouble reading social cues myself

The TL;DR is: I think most of Stolas’s Issues with how he interacts with people (primarily Blitz and Octavia, as those are his two most frequent, positive- atleast from Stolas’s side- interactions) is more to do with an inability to understand social cues than anything else

Part 1: Childhood Neglect

Children have to be around, ya' know, people, from a young age to develop social skills- and a big part of those social skills is the ability to read people, but we know for a fact that for the first ten years of his life, Stolas had never interacted with other children and had very scarce interaction with other adults, I don't think that changed until he was in his teens and was forced to be around Stella, but even if I'm wrong, those first ten years kinda sealed his fate anyway because most primary social skills (like reading people) are learned before the age of five- or atleast the primary functions are, nuance obviously comes later, so by the age of ten, Stolas was completely incapable of learning this skill without actively being taught, and we know he sure as hell didn't have that, so he's kinda just.... cooked....

Making matters much, much worse- what interactions he did have in childhood were all either cold, cruel, or both.. with one notable exception we’ll get to later

The butler seemed to be very “professional”...

...Yeah I’m not exactly getting a huge range of emotions from this fella to be honest....

Then you have Paimon, who seems to be mostly in a jovial state when he visits Stolas..... but that peppy mood is punctuated by cruelty, IE: “cease your bitch crying”, that wasn’t really said in anger- he didn’t seem frustrated or pissed off, just mildly annoyed but mostly still in a good mood, this would be a good example of mixed messages: Actions that contradict words or vice versa, for any child it might be hard to understand the idea of someone speaking to them calmly and within a relatively good mood but saying something mean and hurtfull, but to a child who doesn’t have the necessary skills to understand social cues, this becomes it’s own strange normal

Next is Stella, who I personally feel probably didn’t meet Stolas until they were teenagers, but it doesn’t really matter because either way, I don’t think it would have changed much- she’s cold, cruel, and vile from the beginning, Stolas is a very sensitive person with a very gentle disposition, no matter if he met her when he was ten or when he was sixteen, I think it’d be a shock to his system either way, and having to come to terms with the fact that this is the type of person who he’s going to have to have a marriage with had to have taken a big emotional toll, and it’s setting the stage VERY early in conditioning him into a victimized mindset- there is zero opportunity for him to get away from this abusive situation, all he can do is learn how to minimize the pain that comes out of it, and that in and of it’s self leads to having a very..... difficult time learning how to read people, on the good side of things, yes, you learn quickly how to avoid setting off your abuser (...unless ofcourse the abuser is emotionally sporadic) and can learn quickly how to tell when things are about to go from generally calm to “head for cover”.... but it also creates a skewed perception- ESPECIALLY for people who lack relationship experience- for reading people in future relationships, making one either overly cautious.... or attracted to red flags- wich is very clearly Stolas’s case (don’t think I didn’t notice the text that invited Blitz to “be mean to him” in what was VERY clearly an attempt at mediating a sour situation, this is not kink, this is absolutely and 100% a victimized person trying a Fawn Response to get out of more severe consequences- in alot of cases, people in abusive situations would rather suffer a shorter instance of having anger taken out on them (IE: being slapped in the face, screamed at, or berated) than to have their abuser (or anyone in their life for that matter) stay mad at them for an extended period of time (and to be VERY clear, before anyone comes for me, I’m not saying that Blitz is abusing Stolas by any stretch of the imagination, although I will touch on the language used again later, but Stolas’s ONLY mindset in a romantic relationship was specifically curated to be a victimized one, it is the ONLY guidepost he has, and he WILL, by nature, fall into the patterns he developed with Stella with anyone else he has a relationship with until that trauma is dealt with properly and he learns how to have other kinds of interactions with people and how to have a healthy relationship)

And that brings us to the only other childhood interaction that we know of- Blitz: ...And Blitz is confusing even for people who do have social experience, not as much when he was a kid, but still to some small degree, because Blitz, by nature, is rude, crass, and insulting, that can make it really hard to tell if he genuinely likes you or not- take Moxxie for instance, who we know he considers to be part of his family, who he VERY clearly has fondness and affection for (besides all the threeway comments, “Truth Seekers” makes this clear enough).... but he also is often at the butt of Blitz’s jokes, comments, and insults, for no apparent reason at that (we don’t see him treating Millie that way, although, that doesn’t mean that he’s never sharp or rude with her, he just seems to reserve the most of it for Moxxie) I think even people who have a good understanding of social cues would find him hard to figure out, so you take Stolas- who at this point has never had a truly positive interaction with literally anyone to our knowledge- suddenly being treated with atleast some kind of affection and comradary, and he’s just going to assume that ok, yes, this must be how people interact with eachother- he’s never been taught or shown any differently, his father actually has a very similar way of treating him to how Blitz does- he seems to be in a fine mood, isn’t shouting or displaying anger, but he’s casually insulting Stolas and belittling him, so when Stolas’s first ever freind says things like “Your books are boring”, and then proceeds to offer to play a game with him, Stolas’s veiws on this are probably going to skew alot less towards “That was rude” and alot more towards “Oh, this is just how people treat eachother” or at the very least “This is just how people treat me”- and this seems like such small potatoes but the sheer lack of any other interactions Stolas has with people makes every single word important to him and how he develops social skills- and when he’s already leaning into a victimized mindset, this is only going to help it along it’s path

Part 2: The Love Bomb

So Stolas, we can probably deduce, doesn’t have alot of luck with meeting people in adulthood who are, you know, decent to him, if the fact that he’s sidelined at his own party gives any indication, I feel like it’s VERY safe to assume- if not just stating an explicit fact- that Stolas hasn’t had any new positive interactions since that initial playdate with Blitz

So imagine if you will, this scenario:

Blitz is the first person to show Stolas not just any form of freindship, but any form of positive attention at all (excluding Via but we’ll get there), then after over a decade of this still being true, he sneaks into Stolas’s house and within ten minutes of seeing Stolas again, indicates VERY clearly that he wants to sleep with Stolas- who I guarantee, despite living in the Lust ring, does not have any grasp on the concept that wanting to sleep with someone does not automatically mean you have feelings for them, as having feelings for someone- or atleast liking them- seems to be a vital part of Stolas’s own attraction to people and ability to want to sleep with them (we know he doesn’t want to sleep with Stella, per the fact that she proudly admits to essentially assaulting him, and I’m not convinced that his lack of interest in her is entirely due to his sexuality- I personally headcanon that he’s gay, but that isn’t explicitly stated to be true anywhere, and he could easily be bi, pan, or even on the ace spectrum- wich I would not be remotely surprised about, by the way, as a demi person myself- and even if he IS gay, that doesn’t mean he’s automatically incapable of sleeping with a woman or having some enthusiasm to do so- ask a small crowd of gay men and I’ll bet anything that atleast one or two have had genuinely positive sexual interactions with women, especially if they were closeted for an extended period of time)- then after several rounds of sex and Blitz sleeping over, their next interaction is Stolas offering a monthly arrangement and Blitz, albeit with a lukewarm response that can be rightfully chalked up to him trying to avoid being murdered- agrees to it- wouldn’t your perception, until this point, be largely that Blitz still has some level of affinity for Stolas? If this is the only perspective we saw, it makes loads of sense

But this is where things start getting murky

After Blitz’s initial, brisk, agreement, interactions from Blitz’s end are LARGELY mixed in messaging- he’s sharp, cold, and often cruel with the way he speaks to Stolas, but he continues to come over and keep their arrangement anyway, at times initiating himself

or saying that he doesn’t mind when their monthly arrangement comes early

The show makes it VERY fucking clear that besides being extremely kinky (and having kinks that usually seem to line up with eachother quite well) they’re also switches-

(Credit)

Meaning that Blitz doesn’t just do all the giving, he also allows Stolas to top- this is clearly not just about Blitz getting to tie up a royal and feel empowered for once, and it clearly is involving more attention than just a quick bang for the book and running (and for context, the first screencap in this set is meant to indicate that Stolas topping is something Blitz is familiar enough with as a concept that he has to tell Stolas “no” in the beginning of their trip, I don’t think he’d be that cautious if Stolas had exclusively bottomed until this point)

At the same time Blitz also has many times (like the above in Loo Loo Land) when he makes it clear that he doesn’t want to engage in anything sexual, and Stolas has always respected that to atleast a physical degree (even if he often dirty talks and comes onto Blitz when Blitz clearly wishes he wouldn’t, he atleast knows not to do anything handsy when Blitz says “no”, wich is a low bar to step over but still)

But the problem is that Blitz’s attitude and how he responds to Stolas- outside of very clear “yes”es and very clear “no”s- is nearly always hostile, it’s only when Blitz is in a particularly good mood that he seems to be more mild in how he treats Stolas- and that’s often after sex, from what we’ve seen, or after Stolas has done something for Blitz (IE: saving him and I.M.P. in Truth Seekers), Blitz has “resting bitch attitude” to the extreme, his default state is a harsh disposition, and he’s also no stranger to making unwanted sexual advances himself (IE: rather constantly with the M&Ms) and/or being harsh with someone only to then turn around and give enthusiastic consent to sleep with them (IE: Chazz), it wouldn’t surprise me at all if he’s sent several of these mixed messages Stolas’s way on top of the ones we know he’s sending

It’s right back to the beginning of Stolas’s social life with Paimon: His demeanor says one thing but his words say another, when someone is being an asshole but doing it with a smile, are they actually being an asshole or are they just teasing? Some people can’t tell as easily- if at all

Making things worse, until Ozzie’s, there is never a moment when things clearly go on the ice with Blitz, Stolas’s progression of events goes from Blitz being openly affectionate straight into him being cold and hostile, there’s no break in between where Stolas would be able to stop and question if something went wrong, the transition is pretty seamless, because I highly doubt that he knew from the beginning Blitz’s initial seduction of him was disingenuous, Stolas was far too caught off guard for his enthusiasm to be planned- if we want to talk “Stolas Sings” lyrics, I would be willing to bet that that he didn’t start recognizing the “comfortable lie” until after he set up the deal with the book- wich may even be what he’s referring to in the first place, we assume that it’s about Blitz’s affection, but maybe it’s because he knows that he deceived Blitz into trying to force Blitz to spend time with him

The point of this section is simple: Blitz is an emotionally complicated person, and someone who has very little relationship experience isn’t going to have an easy time figuring those emotions out

Part 3: Octavia

For a quick break from the Stolitz Shit Show however, this section is pretty simple- Stolas can’t read Octavia either

The conversation about Loo Loo Land comes up alot, and although I do agree that some of his insistence on Loo Loo Land- despite her CLEAR disinterest in it- comes from the very classic parental problem of wanting to relive something from your child’s early years that made them happy- that now, ofcourse, they find too childish to enjoy- I also feel like he genuinely didn’t know exactly how disinterested in Loo Loo Land she was, I think in some ways he’s sort of written off her general demeanor as “She’s being a teenager”- that, or has internalized it

In many ways, Octavia is both the outlier to the pattern of people around him, and also falling exactly in step with the pattern as well

On the one hand she was the only person to ever show him consistent, enthusiastic, unconditional love and affection, this makes her the outlier to all of his other relationships, he may or may not chalk this up to a father/daughter bond, though I tend to believe he does given the emphasis he tries to place on being a doting dad, but it doesn’t really matter why- she just is

Or.... was.....

Because as of recent, I would assume since puberty hit- although we technically don’t know this for a fact- Octavia has slipped into the same disinterest of having Stolas around as everyone else around him- atleast on the surface

Like Paimon, Stella, and later Blitz, she tends to be cold to him, at times hurtfull (even though she very obviously doesn’t mean to be; IE: the band she’s listening to being called “Fuck You Dad” and making a point of telling him that), and rarely shows him any truly positive interactions (with Star Seekers being one of those noted exceptions) Stolas could group this in with the mentality that this is just how everyone treats him, but given how long he had Octavia’s very enthusiastic and unconditional joy at being around him, I tend to believe that he’s just chalking it up to her being a teenager- and, fair, that IS actually alot to do with it, so I’m willing to bet that he tends to see her.... less than thrilled attitude through a sort of lens that keeps that in mind, like rose colored glasses almost, keeping himself aware that she’s a teenager and is going to be grumpier than she used to be, but she has no reason not to still love him ....right?

The problem with that, obviously, is that it waters down everything she says and does, it allows him to- intentionally or unintentionally- read her cold response as more of a lukewarm response, essentially turning a “no” more into a “maybe”- wich obviously leads to quite alot of misunderstandings and Stolas trying to push things that he shouldn’t be pushing under the beleif that she still enjoys them, but just is in Grumpy Teenager Mode and isn’t going to express that enjoyment as openly as she used to

This doesn’t so much fit in with his usual trouble reading people as it is it’s own thing, but I think they fit together to create a more cohesive understanding of why exactly he has such a hard time understanding what seem to us to be very clear emotional indicators

Part 4: Conclusion

The thing is, we know Stolas is incredibly smart, so this isn’t just empty-headedness, and it isn’t always something that works in his benefit- IE: when he’s initially kidnapped by Striker and doesn’t seem to realize he’s really in any danger until Striker actually verbally indicates that he is-

(granted it was probably the evil laugh but still)

The fact that he didn’t process that he was really in any danger until this moment could come from him just depending on Blitz to save him until now.... but that doesn’t really work, as at his “Oh shit” moment, he still believes Blitz is on his way to save him- it took Striker CLEARLY indicating that he was confident in his ability to kill Stolas to convince Stolas that he may have a point, despite the fact that he’s been tied up with angelic rope and should have gleamed that much sooner

From my own experience as an autistic person, reading people is a nightmare, and I WAS socialized well and taught very good social skills from a mother who’s naturally very good at socializing, but I still can’t tell half the time when someone is joking with me, even if it’s clear to other people, still ask people- completely out of the blue to them- if they’re angry with me because I can’t tell the difference between someone being quiet and someone being mad, still have to outright ask half the time if someone is being sarcastic or literal, and even as of my early 20s, was so sure that (what I see NOW to be) a very clearly scripted interveiw with an actor was serious that I made a cringey Tumblr post begging people to let him sleep because I thought he was being woken up by his castmates every five minutes

I think this is one of those things neurotypical people often take for granted, but for austies and other neurodivergent people (or people like Stolas who suffered severe emotional neglect and abuse and didn’t exactly develop the way he should have) reading basic social cues can sometimes be like trying to put together a Rubiks Cube, and when you compound that issue with people who- for one reason or another, be it teenage angst or a snarky disposition or parental neglect- aren’t all that clear with their signals to begin with, you just end up with someone who’s pretty fucking confused all the time about their emotional place with the people around them

Again, there are other totally valid reads on this situation out there, this is just my own personal headcanon but then I headcanon both Blitz and Stolas as being autistic anyway because honestly have you met them?

#stolas #helluva boss #stolitz #ish #headcanon #is there a helluva positive tag?

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citizensofeggtonarchived · 2 years ago

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Twee felt the stone hit the back of her head which normally would set her into a fit, though aware of just what Buddha was she was less keen to fight them. "Ya know, I only have one of those so maybe be a bit careful with it." The fennec may have thrown it, though she knew the God was paying attention and was sure he'd catch it which he did. "It's just a recall stone. You put a bit of magic and it opens up a portal. Figured if you used your powers it should be enough seeing as I ain't no where as strong as you." That was her thought anyway.

"Fine, then go do whatever it is you do. Not like I have anything to offer you." Twee doubt the Buddha would even want anything as he seemed casual about most things, though her mindset wasn't the best right now. Didn't help the fennec had a different view of Gods from stories of her world. "Actually, think you can point me to a place I can do some training. Usually puts me in a better mood."

{{ L }} "Hmm?" Grasping the stone between his index and middle finger. Buddha looked it over before flicking it back at the other with his thumb bonking the other on the head.

"I don't know what to say do with that nonsense, never seem it before."

Smite? Buddha couldn't help but chuckle at that. He wasn't like the other Gods that thought so highly of themselves... well, more or less. Buddha was pretty self-centered to an outside perceptive, but he was simple him. The embodiment of enlightenment. "I can tell. Unfortunately, I'm not the best person to ask to send you home."

#coffeehousemuses #citizensofeggton #twee darling #luckiest brawler #rp #ic #crossover #Poppy #Record of Ragnarok

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leonasbunny · 2 years ago

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Hello! I just found your account and it is sooo cute!! Could I please request Leona’s reaction to a chubby lamb girl! s/o who Jack and Ruggie both seem to have a little puppy crush on but she’s just too sweet and dumb to notice? ❤️ Tysm!!

- 🐑

Lamb anon omfjwjdjwej ILYSM LEMME KISS U 👉👉👉❤️❤️

Two eyes lingered on you, then another pair of eyes set on your smaller figure too. Jack and Ruggie carefully watched as Leona had his arm wrapped around your waist, sitting near the calm waters in the Savanaclaw dorm.

Jack was more of an responsible man to ever announce the fact he had a thing for you, dear. How could he resist though? He was captivated by you, ever since the incident of Leona’s overblot and Azul’s enslavement to the whole campus;

That being set aside, whilst he’s more of a man who sets his heart on morals, he could never actually express his love for you properly due to the fact you are Leona’s property.

Ruggie, on the other hand, has no shame. He considers that what belongs to others must be shared with the rest. Given his hyena-like mindset, Hyenas share food with each other without discrimination. And since you are the only female here, and the only prey in the wild surrounded by carnivorous men who would gladly take you for their own; but could never disobey Leona; Ruggie will make the most of what he has with you and would never complain.

Leona’s tail tightened on your thighs, squishing the soft flesh as a sign of his protectiveness and love for you; but Jack and Ruggie couldn’t help but wonder what would it be like to be filled in Leona’s position! To have you cradled against them for protection; to have your beautiful scent fill their senses.. My, look what you’ve caused my precious lamb.

These boys can’t help but adorably wag their tails in the thought of you hugging them; with your small arms around their figure.

Whenever Leona isn’t around, Leona surprisingly entrusts Jack with the task of looking after you. And knowing the precious wolf, he could never disobey Leona. But he has the chance to spend time with you!? My, the universe can be cruel to him sometimes.

His hand twitches at the thought as you hold his arm to drag him to your classes. He’s a huge blushing mess and his words are fumbled around! He utterly loves you to the core,, but the poor boy can’t express it, he’s resisting too much.

Ruggie on the other hand, whenever he’d get a chance to be with you, he’d pet your precious little lamb ears and lean in close to you,, his scent is something that of rough yet sweet. It’s sharp and very much suited to fit him.

He loves hugging you, but whenever you willingly hug him, he swears he doesn’t wanna let you go.

Instead, he’ll just pull you in by the waist and whisper seductive things in your ear that your innocent mind can’t grasp. But If you do somehow understand him, you’re gonna be so flustered!! You can’t help but to cover your mouth and turn to the side in defeat,, gosh why is he doing this?? (⁄ฅ⁄⁄ฅ⁄⁄)♡

Leona isn’t necessarily an idiot, he’s smart and quite frankly, very intelligent. Don’t let his laziness and relaxed demeanour fool you! That being said, he’s quick to catch on to Ruggie and Jack’s soft puppy crush on your little lamb self. The lion will become extremely possessive though!

The moment he catches wind of your arms held gently while Ruggie is pulling you closer towards him, Leona barked at the calm hyena who turned around and snickered softly; teasing the Lion.

“Shishishi~ Jealous Leona-san? Come take her if ya wanna. We hyenas share all our prey~”

“Ghrr.. Quit yer teasin’ Ruggie. You know what happens when I’m in a bad mood, idiot.”

“Sheesh, alriiight. I’m just playin’ Leona~ ”

Meanwhile, you: (⸝⸝𖦹́ᯅ𖦹̀⸝⸝)???

He will drag you to his room and push you against the wall, sun gleaming in your eyes as he starts biting you and marking you everywhere.

His little herbivore needs to be taught a lesson on who she belongs to, right little lamb?

He will touch your sensitive ears and whisper harsh, but romantic words which make you perked up with fear and slight excitement, though you cannot understand why.. Maybe you aren’t as innocent as you thought, hm?~

Maybe with time, the three of them will begin to accept that you can be shared (possibly), between them all. Really, you don’t have a say in this, cutie~

Just sit back and enjoy the ride.

Usauthor ❤️💅 ~ (~￣³￣)~

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland savanaclaw #twst wonderland #leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland jack #twisted wonderland ruggie #twst headcanons

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theringers · 3 years ago

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disrespect - lando norris x max fewtrell x reader

summary: you move to a new city and are eager for a fun night out, but your date’s drunk friend just has to ruin it

a/n: hi besties, this has been a wip for a while but ofc it’s still unedited sorry /: hope you enjoy also don’t be mad at me bc i made lando an asshole sorry xoxo enjoy the fic, as always feedback is alwayssss appreciated:)

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, threesome, drinking, dirty talk, asshole lando, i’m in love with max fewtrell so this fic is about him here is your warning

You swiped through Tinder on your phone, hoping that you might come across someone worth spending your time with. You had just moved into your new apartment in a brand new city and it was nerve-wracking, to say the least. Upping your entire life and moving it across the country alone is one hell of a feat and you were proud of yourself. But now that there were no more boxes to unpack, you were left to deal with your loneliness in a half furnished apartment.

It had only been a few weeks since you moved away but you were craving some fun human interaction. Each person that showed up on your screen was either a hit or miss. They had to be a catfish, you thought to yourself. Or you were definitely out of their leagues. The TV was playing in the background and you were mindlessly swiping, but a profile stopped you dead in your tracks. Max, 22. His smile beamed at you through the phone and he looked like great company. Someone you could laugh with for a night and have a good time.

You swiped right on him, matching immediately. You grinned a stupid grin that you would only do when you were alone. He looked like a super fun-loving guy according to his profile. You contemplated whether to make the first move or just leave him to it.

You set your phone down on the couch and decided to get up and do a little cleaning around the house, but conveniently leave on your phone ringer, just in case. It was a single dish you didn't even finish cleaning before you heard the ding. You rushed over to your phone, excited to see a message from Max. "Hi Beautiful" it read. Okay, you said to yourself and nodded. He was pulling out the moves already. Of course, he was though, this was Tinder. What else was he here for?

You responded and got the conversation moving, asking the typical get-to-know-you questions. He seemed like a nice guy and you were desperate for a connection with another human person. You had spent way too much time on FaceTime the past few weeks.

Luckily, he was in a good mood and the two of you made plans to meet at a local pub in just a few hours. Nothing stressful, just a casual drink between new pals.

You threw on your favorite yellow sundress and waited until it was close to leaving. No one could blame you if you showed up at the pub early for a little pregame drink.

Impossibly, the pub looked familiar to you. You had never been to this town before you moved. You took a seat at the bar and ordered a gin and tonic, sipping on the strong drink while you waited.

"You must be y/n," a voice said, taking you out of your gin-induced focus. He looked even better in person. His hair was messy but it looked like he spent a decent amount of time on it. Your favorite look. He flashed his award-winning smile at you and you almost melted.

"Hi, Max?" He nodded and sat down on the barstool next to you.

"Sorry I didn't pick a nicer place. This is one of my favorites."

You laughed at him. "You could have told me this was the nicest place in town and I would have believed you."

He pointed out the door. "I live right across the street there, so this place was convenient. It slowly became one of my favorites after a while."

He had the same mindset as you. You didn't need to be in the nicest restaurant with the most expensive food and drinks by any means. It was always more fun to go to a casual pub for a drink or two and see where the night takes you.

The bartender approached him. "What can I get ya?"

He looked at your almost empty drink. "I'll have whatever she's having and make it two."

You quietly thanked him and began the dreaded awkward first-date conversation. He cleared his throat and turned toward you. "I really love that dress, by the way, you look amazing in it."

You blushed at his words and smiled. "Thanks, it's one of my favorites."

"I can tell a lot about a person by what color they wear."

"Oh, really? And what does my yellow dress say about that?"

"That you're a friendly person. You like to talk to others and you want people to think you are a nice person."

You leaned into him and rested your head in your hand. "Tell me more."

He shook his head, regretting speaking up. "No, no, it's dumb."

"Not dumb at all, I'm actually very intrigued."

He took a deep breath. "Yellow is associated with freedom, independence, and optimism. Which I feel like you have all three." He half declared, half asked. He barely knew you, but apparently, your yellow dress told him more than enough.

"I respect it," you pursed your lips in an impressed half-smile.

The bartender dropped two more drinks off and you continued chatting. You learned about his interests and his family. He learned about your career and friends. At a certain point, the two of you just went back and forth sharing funny stories. You were three or four drinks in when you decided it would be a good idea to get some food in your systems, just in case.

As the bartender walked away, your gaze diverted to a rambunctious group walking into the bar. They were loud and laughing, one even stumbling his way in.

"I kinda wish that was me right now," you joked.

His eyebrows shot up. "Should we do shots?"

"We should do shots." You two were getting along swimmingly. He flagged the bartender over and ordered two shots of whiskey. "No, no, no. Maxy boy, if you're going to do shots with me, we're doing shots of vodka."

He groaned in frustration. “That’s nasty.”

“Okay, either vodka or tequila then.”

“I’d take tequila over vodka any day.”

The bartender was still waiting for your order, tapping his fingers on the bar. You spoke. “Two shots of tequila please.”

He was quick about bringing the shots, but you weren't quick about taking them. The clear liquid sat on the bar while you collected your thoughts and prepared yourself for the shot. You felt a hand slam down on the bar next to Max and looked over.

"Lando?" He asked. He must know him.

The boy stumbled a bit but used the bar as stability. "I want one of those," he slurred and pointed at the shot glasses.

Max laughed. "What are you doing here, mate?"

"We started drinking really, really early today."

"All day?" Max giggled, unable to keep in his emotions. This was hilarious.

"All day!" He shouted.

"Hey, buddy," he said, putting his hand on his shoulder. "Let's keep it down, okay? You don't want to get kicked out, do you?"

He cocked his head to the side and peered around Max. "Oh hey," he said and you smiled back. "Who's this hot piece of ass you got with you?"

"Lando!" Max stood up and your jaw dropped. "I think we should take you home." He grabbed Lando's arm and pulled him away, the sudden movement making him nauseous. He put his hand over his mouth and rushed to the bathroom.

Max sat back down. "I apologize for his behavior. That was so rude of him."

"It's okay, we all have those drunk friends who don't know when to shut up." It was amusing to you.

"I'm going to walk him across the street to my place and put him to bed. Don't move, I'm having a great time. I promise I'll be right back. And if I'm not, just come knocking on my door."

You nodded. "Got it. Can we at least take this shot first?"

"That's my kind of girl," he said. He picked up the glass, tapping it to the table, then to your glass, then to the table again, before tossing the shot back.

It burned, bad, but with him, you almost wanted to do another one. You saw Lando stumble out of the bathroom and tipped your head to Max. You hoped he wouldn't be too long because you were really enjoying your time with him.

You looked around the bar, taking notice of the groups of people you seem to have ignored before. Lando's rowdy friends were still here and you prayed they would leave you alone. There were a few older couples on the outskirts of the bar and a few groups of younger girls, looking like they were heading out on the town for a wild night. This was definitely just their first stop.

You could get behind spending your weekends and your work nights here. You didn't live too far from this place either, so whether this date ended well or not, you were sure to run into Max again. And probably Lando too.

Max walked back into the pub in record time. He sounded out of breath and his chest was rising and falling quickly. "I'm really sorry about him again."

You shook your head from side to side. "Don't even worry about it. I've said worse while drunk."

"Haven't we all." He rolled his eyes and flagged down the bartender for another drink.

You weren't sure how long you actually spent in the pub, but you watched it get crowded for prime time and then die down for closing. You were sipping on what you deemed your last drink and you definitely didn't need it.

Max signed the check and tossed back the last sip of his drink. "Do you want to come back to my place? We can watch a movie or something and then I can walk you home."

It sounded like exactly what you needed right now. You scooted off the barstool and grabbed your purse. Max took your hand in his and lead you to his place.

He fumbled in his pocket for his keys and you watched him intently. You were finding it difficult to keep yourself from drooling over him. You leaned back on the wall and waited. "Ah, got it," he said, looking up at you. He didn't even go directly for the door next to you, but instead eyed your body up and down. "You know, my friend can be a huge asshole, but he wasn't necessarily wrong."

You raised your eyebrows and cocked your head to the side.

"I think you are so unbelievably beautiful and still can't believe you sat down and had drinks with me all night." He took a step closer to you.

You looked up into his eyes and smiled. You pushed up onto your tippy toes and planted a kiss on his lips. He wasn't expecting it, but he reacted quickly, gripping your face with one hand and your hip with the other. You engaged in a few soft pecks before his tongue slipped in and guided yours. You could feel the prominent beat of his heart when you rested your hand on his chest. You smiled into the kiss and he let out a breathy laugh. "Let's get inside," he whispered against your lips.

When he opened the door, he stopped, forgetting that he had let his drunk friend crash on his couch. He groaned quietly and put his head in his hands. "Let's just go to my room, I'm sorry."

You laughed. You were down for anything but you loved to see him get so worked up over this. He led you down the hallway into his bedroom at the end.

He frantically tried to pick up a few loose clothing items on the floor when you walked in but you didn't care. It was something about all the gin and tonics you drank that just made you not care about clothes strewn everywhere. "Make yourself comfortable." He pointed to his bed, and lucky for you the bed was made. He unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing and tossed it in his laundry. You tried not to ogle too much over him, but his body was firm and toned. He quickly slid on a t-shirt and continued picking up.

You laid down on your stomach, facing the TV with your head resting on your hands. "What should we watch?" You asked.

He sat down behind you on the bed, his upper body leaning against the headboard. "Whatever you want. Anything you're in the mood for?"

"I don't do scary movies," you said.

He debated internally and moved his head around. "I can see that. How about something funny? You can never go wrong with a comedy."

"I'm all for it."

There was an abundance of comedy movies available to watch and luckily enough you've seen almost none of them. He put on a movie he got a recommendation for, but you couldn't focus on what was in front of you. You could only think about what - or who - was behind you. He rested his hand on the back of your thigh, not moving it, but more of a comforting gesture. You felt yourself twitch and crossed your fingers that it was just a mental thing.

You giggled and laughed at the movie with Max, his hand slowly moving up the back of your leg each time his body shook from laughter.

He reached the end of your dress, slowly letting his fingers wander under it. "Is this okay?" He asked. You turned back to him and smiled, hoping he got the memo.

His soft fingers traced circles on the skin of your upper thigh, inching dangerously close to your core. He gripped your ass lightly and you moaned in response, trying to keep it to yourself but he definitely heard.

He hovered over your center and applied pressure causing your legs to heat up. It was a natural instinct for your body to heat up whenever someone like Max touched you. He pushed your panties to the side and played with your pussy, teasing you with his fingers and making you a moaning mess.

He slid one finger in, and then another right after driving you insane. Your head was spinning in the best way.

"Hey Max, I, uh-" Lando burst into the room, clearly still drunk. Max stopped the movements of his fingers but didn't remove his hand.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize you had a guest." You covered your face in embarrassment. "My apologies." Lando's eyes tried to look anywhere else besides Max's bed.

You could feel Max's finger slowly start to move again and you didn't know what to do. Lando was looking right at you and your face wasn't exactly concealing what was going on.

He looked at Max with a confused look on his face and then noticed his arm moving. "You're inside of her aren't you?"

Max let out a single chuckle. "I think you know the answer to that." You let your head fall, unable to contain your facial expressions from the sensation. Their words were sending tingles up and down your entire body. "My question for you is," he tipped his head to Lando, "are you enjoying it?"

His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Uh," he cleared his throat, "yeah."

"Then sit." Max pointed to a chair in the corner of his room. He didn't have to hide his motions anymore so the pace sped up and the volume of your moans increased. Lando shifted uncomfortably while watching, but the tent in his pants said he was definitely enjoying the view.

Max moved closer to you on the bed and planted a kiss on the top of your head. "Do you want me to fuck you while he watches?"

"Please," you said breathlessly, unable to contain the feeling inside of you that was about to explode.

He tossed your body around and manhandled you like you weighed nothing. You were on your hands and knees now, facing Lando and looking at him right in the eyes. You still had your dress on, so he didn't get to see too much of you. That was saved for Max, but he got to watch you get fucked by his best friend and that was better than anything he could ask for.

"Fuck, y/n." You felt your walls clench around Max entering you from behind, and you sucked in a breath waiting for him to start moving. You squeezed your eyes shut, not ready to face Lando. When you opened them, he was palming himself through his pants.

The grunts and groans of two men now filled the room and you couldn't believe what was happening.

Max felt so good ramming you from behind, his hands gripping your ass and guiding you, but you couldn't help but stay focused on Lando. His eyes met yours and he watched you intently as he touched himself.

He pulled his cock out of his pants and began stroking it, letting his head fall back and staring up at the ceiling.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. His hand went up and down his shaft fast and rough like he was desperate for some relief.

"You want to fuck her, mate?" Max asked from behind you.

"God, yes. So bad." His words sounded like moans.

Max laughed. "Too bad."

Lando's eyes shot open. "Too bad?"

He laughed again. "You disrespected her earlier. Now you get to watch from the sidelines while I make her cum." You couldn't see his face but he definitely had a smug grin plastered across it. Lando rolled his eyes and continued touching himself.

Max's thrusts started to get sloppy and his breathing was unstable, alerting you that he was about to finish. You reached your hand between your legs and played with your clit, hoping to be able to finish with him.

You began seeing stars and let the top half of your body fall onto the bed from exhaustion. You couldn't hold yourself up anymore. Your legs got hot and slightly numb, and you let out one last loud moan before collapsing on the bed.

Max walked into his bathroom for a towel and cleaned you up. He laughed when he tossed the towel across the room to Lando. "Alright mate, time for bed."

Lando shook his head as he pulled his pants up and headed for the door. "Great to meet you, y/n."

taglist: @honeybadger03 @teenwaywardasgardian @ggaslyp1 @f1oneshots @enchantestuff @ohpuckyeah @e16leclerc @landowishes @pg10ln4 @yugyeomcutie

#lando norris smut #max fewtrell x reader #max fewtrell smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 blurb #f1 fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris blurb #lando norris x reader #lando norris oneshot #f1 oneshot #max fewtrell oneshot #max fewtrell imagine

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pockou · 4 years ago

Text

skin ⤻ chpt. one

— pairings: jean kirschtein x fem bodied nb!reader

— warnings: none for now

— summary: after reuniting with your childhood bestfriend, jean and a long heated night together you establish a friends with benefits relationship. what could go wrong?

— modern au

— wc: 2.6k

— a/n: sorry nothing really happened, this is really just me setting things up !

⤺ skin masterlist

After a long and stressful day with work, you finally arrived home. The first thing that crossed your mind was letting your mother know you’d be skipping out on brunch with her and some old friends the next afternoon so you could catch up on some much needed sleep. You removed your shoes and wiped the small bit of sweat which was accumulating on your forehead, outside felt like a heatwave being it was nearing the peak of summer, work has been pretty busy lately with all the moms coming in and demanding for you to restock the pool noodles — which obviously you had no control over just being a mere cashier. You never knew how stressful it could be just standing behind a counter all day, which you didn’t take into account is the long and blistering walk home. Maybe a summer job wasn’t the best choice?

“Oh hey Mom!” Your mom was just passing by with a laundry basket in hand, probably heading to clean clothes for tomorrow.

“Hi Y/N, how was work?”

“Long.” You filled a cup of cold apple juice up before turning back over to her, “By the way, I can’t go with you and dad to brunch tomorrow. I’m pooped and need some extra sleep.”

“Y/N, you can’t skip out, I understand you’re tired but an old friend who you’ll probably be happy to see is going to be there, and i’ll make sure you don’t miss him, he’s rarely in town anymore.”

“He?” You tried to think of all the guys who’ve came into your life which your parents took a liking to, there were a few but not any you really would want to see.

“Yes, he. Now get showered you smell like clorax and sweat!”

“Jeez Mom way to put it lightly!” You both laughed together, these moments definitely made you glad you decided to move back for the summer and stay off of campus. You picked up your phone after it buzzed and saw an incoming follow request from “Jean Kirschtein” the name rang a bell but ultimately you chose to ignore it and decline. You decided to fix the obvious awful scent which was coming from you and headed to shower.

You looked at the array of bath soaps, body scrubs and shampoos you and your mom shared, you picked up the ‘vanilla mint’ scent which always brought comfort to you for some odd reason, it just has for as long as you could remember. After massaging your head with shampoo and conditioner you shaved your legs until you were satisfied with the outcome and jumped out of the shower. Noticing the time after you went to pause your music you realized just how long you took, it was already past seven pm and your dad should be home, hopefully with dinner. Before leaving, you moisturized your legs and added an acne serum to your face, gently patting it into your cheeks and forehead. You just threw on some boxer-like shorts and one of your dads old band tees and peeked into the kitchen.

“Hey darling.”

“Hey Dad, did you pick up dinner?” You leaned over the counter giggling at your mothers antics, being she was behind your father mocking him.

“Yes I did, burritos good? There’s this new joint by the office.”

“Sick, thanks dad! I’ll set the table, love you.” You pecked his cheek before grabbing plates and cups for the three of you, you hadn’t remembered the last time you ate, it probably was around eleven when you had your lunch breaks. Which you believed to be a bit too early for lunch. You smiled widely at both of your parents as they sat down at the table.

“What do you guys want to drink? I’ll go get somethin’ for us all.”

“I’ll just have a water pumpkin.” You took your dads cup and gave him a thumbs up then looked to your mother.

“I still have my protein shake i’ll be fine!”

“Mkay!” You took yours and your dads cups and filled them about halfway with water, adding a bit of lemon and ice to yours, “Dad do ya want ice?”

“Sure, thank you. Now hurry up your foods getting cold!” You shuffled back over to the table handing your dad his iced water and flashing him a shiny smile.

“Thanks again!” After that you dug into your dinner and the whole meal was filled with your dad telling you and your mom about people calling in asking for help with computers and you telling them about annoying people you had to deal with and, of course your mom complaining about Amy from her yoga class.

By the time you all died down and your mom mentioned you should all get some sleep so you’d all be in good moods for brunch in the morning, inevitably you gave up in trying to skip out due to your moms persistence to join them. You walked into your room to be greeted by the warmth and comfort it always gave off to you, you grabbed your phone and plopped onto your bed ready to finally wind down and relax after such a long day. Your eyes got heavy and you felts drowsy before you gave in and fell into a deep sleep. You dreamed of the same boy you had been for a while, he was cute, really cute and he always brought comfort to you. This dream always took place in a pre-k classroom, playing will blocks and legos and the smell of popcorn and juice in the air. He always came up with a smile on his face which was missing one of his front teeth already, some spaghetti sauce around his mouth and asking if you wanted to play tag. But everytime before you said yes, you always woke up and you were no longer in a carefree mindset like a child and that boy was never there all that was there was a loud ‘beep beep beep’ sound ringing in your ears which never failed to wake you up right at ten thirty am.

This time your mom was also in your room, rummaging throughout your dresser drawers. She was humming the same song she used to sing you to sleep with which always made you smile. You whined as you sat up stretching.

“Morning honey, can you wear this today?” She had just a white tee and a jean shorts pretty simple and nice to wear in the summer.

“Sure that’s fine, how much time do I have?”

“Around an hour or so, make sure you hurry please I don’t wanna be late.”

“Mkay, by the way when do I getta know who this wonderboy is?”

“When you see him you’ll know, trust me. Now get ready!”

She walked out of your room to let you get dressed, after putting on the outfit she chose you just found some random sandals to wear and fixed your hair a bit, you still had some time to spare so you just chilled on the couch playing a random cooking game. Your mom came out to show herself off and she did her cheesy little jazz hands.

“You look beautiful Momma.”

“Thank you, Y/N, you look great aswell.” You both looked in the kitchen to see your dad eating something, “We are literally going to brunch why in the world are you eating?” She obviously wasn’t mad but she shook her hand at your dad which made you both chuckle. They both had been together since they were in highschool and seemed to have an unbreakable bond. That was something you’ve always wanted with another person, just to be able to find comfort in another so easily, and trust them no matter what. And just the very way they looked at eachother and the loving gaze they shared, it was everything, they were soulmates and all you wanted was to find something like that. Your special person.

“Well, we should get going, the car drive is a bit long id say.” You lifted yourself up from the couch and followed them, still looking down at your game. You plopped into the car once again, and just gazed out the window.

“Where are we goin’ again?”

“Just a pancake house, nothing too special y’know?”

“Mkay, thanks Mom.” You looked back down at your phone to see that ‘Jean’ guy requesting you again, you found it kinda weird but you decided to look at his account. He was attractive. No he was fucking hot, he had a shiny ash blonde mullet, which some of it was a darker shade, somewhat brown. His hair had a slight wave at the ends adding just a bit of volume to it. You scrolled a little bit more to find out he had a chihuahua and a shitzu. He was also doing good in school and — you double tapped. You mentally cursed at yourself, you just liked a post from not too long ago but still he’d now know you’re looking at his account. Out of guilt you let him follow you, you had to now atleast. You just turned off your phone and flipped it over, ignoring what just happened.

“You alright? You look sick.” You looked up to your mom who was looking at you from the front seat, “If its about ‘wonderboy’ don’t be too scared you two used to be so close, you’ll click instantly!”

“Mkay Mom, and I’m fine.” You acted as if you totally didn’t just stalk a hot guy on Instagram, gawk over him then like one of his posts from a few weeks back. You were totally fine, what else could happen. You were incredibly tempted to go look at his page again, his arms always seemed to fill his sleeves from what you saw and, he had a stubble which was just a shade darker than his hair. He dressed incredibly well and looked like he smelled like fancy cologne. You checked your phone and it already had been thirty minutes.

“Mom when’ll we get there?”

“It’s just done the road, relax honey.” You sighed in relief, your stomach had been churning the past few minutes and you needed out of that humid car. Once you parked and looked at the time, it was half past eleven, the exact time of your reservation.

“Alright, we’re at a patio table so you two walk their i’ll go talk with the bouncer to see if the others are here.” Your dad patted your head before walking off to check in, you followed behind your mom. With your hands in your pocket you guys turned the corner and a certain someone caught your eye, the guy from instagram, Jean was it? He was sitting in the patio, her hair was thrown into a ponytail and a chocolate brown like some of Jeans hair, she was cute and obviously his mother.

“Oh my goodness, Kirschtein is that you?!” Your eyes widened, these were the people you were joining for brunch. “Jean! You’ve grown so much, you look very handsome now.”

“Thank you ma’am, Y/N is that you?” He smiled widely before stepping closer to you and embracing you in a bear hug, you let out a small defeated laugh before hugging him back, “How’ve you been? How long has it been?”

“Since preschool.” Your gazes went to his mom who stole you from Jean and hugged you even tighter. You felt the life being squeezed out of your ribs, even though you barely remembered these hugs. And the scent you’ve always loved, both Jean and his mom smelled like vanilla and mint, it was pretty ironic. You all took a seat waiting for your dad to come back before you ordered anything. Jean was seated across from you, his legs were a bit on your end of the table but you just ignored it, everything seemed so awkward yet comfortable all at the same time. Jeans presence was just comforting and made you feel warm and whenever he talked to you and kept eye contact? That made you wanna scream, you two hadn’t seen eachother for years but instantly clicked.

Once your Dad came back, he had five menus in hand and gave them all out. You all talked amongst yourselves about what you’ll get to eat, and what you’ll be getting to drink, ultimately you settled on a coffee, so did your Dad. While Jeans mom and your Mom giggled about some drink they used to always share before ordering two of them, Jean got a decaf. It seemed plain but you weren’t one to talk. You had been engulfed in whatever it was you were doing on your phone until Jean kicked you lightly and gestured to his own phone. You clicked on instagram and saw he had messaged you there.

“Hey, so are we gonna talk abt you stalking me orr?”

“No, we’re not Jean, please just forget abt it.”

After that your drinks had finally came, now you all had to order you got just some pancakes, nothing special. Jean got an omelette while his and your Mom shared french toast and your Dad got waffles. The conversation over brunch went well, Jean shared about what he was studying in during the last school year, as did you. Your familys just caught up with what had been going on, Jean had adopted two dogs over the past year — which you already knew, he was doing good in school and his studies. You just sat there kind of awkwardly being just an hour or two before you were stalking him and thinking about how hot he was, you were snapped back into reality when his Mom asked you something.

“Have you been with anybody recently?”

“Mom! You can’t just ask her that, we haven’t seen her in years..” Jean whipped his head to the side looking at his Mom.

“No Jean it’s fine, but I haven’t.”

“Oh really? You’re so pretty? I find that hard to believe!” You smiled at her, she was obviously trying to be nice. You all continued eating, Jean paying close attention to his phone.

“Well Jean, have you seen anyone recently?”

“Mom!! Seriously?” You were confused about what your moms were trying to pull off, asking random questions back to back on the same subject.

“Y/N it’s fine. And No Mrs. L/N, I actually haven’t.” Jean stretched backwards, his arm muscles slightly flexing while he did so.

“Hmmm, interesting.. Well, finish up everyone.” You had already finished eating so all you had to do was wait for everyone else to finish. You played that same dumb cooking game for what felt like an eternity your Mom finally tapped your shoulder to get your attention.

“We should be heading out, by the way you two are invited for dinner tomorrow, feel free to come by anytime!” You got up with your mom, waving a goodbye to Jean and his mother. Now you had to endure a car ride most likely of your mother blabbing on about how you should get with Jean, that was something you didn’t wanna think or talk about.

You napped in the car for most of the ride until your phone started to buzz in your pocket, which woke you up from your dazed state. You checked the notification to see Jean had sent you a message.

“Y’know you got pretty hot right?”

“What? Jean thats random.”

“Fuck I mean that in the most respectful way possible.”

“Mkay.” You rolled your eyes, although you could say the same about him you were fond of his boldness but that was definitely a worry for another day. All you were worried about was what you’ll be doing now with him coming over again. Were you going to make a move in the same way he did or ignore his antics completely? And that was the last thought you had before falling asleep again.

#jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein #jean kirstein #jean kirsten x reader #aot x reader #aot #snk x reader #snk #skin. ➷

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puddinqcup · 4 years ago

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the great mammon

mammon x gn! reader

warnings: depression, bathing together but nothing happens, angst, swearing, fluff, just mammon being soft for his human :,(

a/n: first post but i thought of this while working and wasn’t in the best mindset and felt as if mammon would be good for this. sorry if it’s ass lmao

it’s been about a week since you’ve been feeling like this. feeling as if you’re a bother to the brothers and how they probably would’ve been so much better without you here. you haven’t eaten or taken a shower, you’ve been in bed all day wanting to do nothing but the blankets and bed to swallow you whole.

whenever the brothers bring you food you text beel to eat it since you “ate at school” beel looks at the text confused, ‘how did they eat in school if they haven’t left their room at all?’ he doesn’t want to push you so he sends you a smile and takes the food. all the brothers believe you’re just homesick and need your space. they all leave you alone except one, mammon.

mammon checks in on you everyday before and after school. you cry everyday over it because you feel as if you’re just bothering him and that he’s doing this out of pity since lucifer assigned him to watch over you. he comes back from school and walks straight to your room, asking you about your day, if you had water and if you’ve gotten up to use the bathroom and you just shake your head no. mammon gives you a small smile and puts his hand out, you look at him with confusion “what are you doing mammon?”

“we’re going to go shower! i know ya haven’t been in the mood but don’t worry! the great mammon will do everything for ya.” you try not to cry telling him it’s okay, that he doesn’t have to do this. he picks you up and hugs you while bringing you to the bathroom telling you that he wants to do this because you’re his human. he places you on the toilet while setting up the bath and getting your clothes and towels. he checks the water and then turns back around to see you, he ask if you can lift your arms up so he can help take off your shirt. he began taking off your clothes and places them in the dirty laundry bin, he picks you up again and softly places you down to the water.

you look up at mammon, “if you want you can join me.” he ask if you were comfortable with it and you nodded your head yes. he begins taking his clothes off and goes to the other side of the bath sitting across from you. he adds bubbles to the bath and starts washing your hair while talking about his day. he starts washing your body and lets you wash the parts you’re not comfortable with him touching. he does little things to make you chuckle or give a small smile, he would make a bubble beard or show little magic tricks with the water.

after the water got cold mammon comes out to wrap a towel around the two of you. he dries you up first and puts on your pajamas before putting on his and even stole some skincare products from asmo to use with you. he brushes your teeth and you two walk to the bed together he changes the bed sheets, since those haven’t been washed in a while either, and you two lay down just enjoying the silence and being together.

“i’m sorry” you tell him, he looks at you with a confused look “what are ya sorry for?” he ask. “you had to look after me and do all this for me, i took your time this whole week because i’ve been doing nothing but being a selfish piece of shit” you start bringing yourself down and telling him how he could’ve been doing anything else but he stops you from continuing. “i wanted to do this, you’re my human. i care about ya, can’t have ya getting sick on me. i will do this for a thousand years if i have to. anything to see ya better again.” after those words you start crying softly, hugging him and thanking him for everything he has done for you.

you two fall asleep holding each other, a small smile on both of your faces. maybe tomorrow will be a better day for you, all thanks to the great mammon.

a/n: tbh this is mostly for me?? i just want to write soft scenarios of the boys and if ppl do see this i hope it helps them out because remember, your faves love you. you are loved and you are amazing. if you want you can even request too but hope whoever reads this enjoyed it!! <3

#obey me #shall we date #obey me fluff #obey me x reader #obey me x you #obey me x mc #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #the great mammon #mammon drabble #mammon #mammon x mc #mammon x you #otome game #mammon fanfic #mammon fluff #obey me writing #obey me oc

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goodolreliable-crows · 4 years ago

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Nightmares and confessions

Bumswiftery cuz this ship needs more content.

Smoking cw

Skittery stood in the bathroom area of the lodge, debating whether pumping water to wash his face would be too loud and wake the other boys. It was late, although he didn’t know the exact time. He had been trying to save up for a pocket watch but never could scrap together the funds. Judging by the soft sounds of the boys deep in slumber in the next room over and the crescent moon in the sky, he determined it was around midnight.

He had woken up clammy from a nightmare and didn’t feel like trying to fall asleep again. He had seen some of the other boys have nightmares- Blink mostly, who frequently woke up screaming at any hours of the night before Mush had to rush over and comfort him. He never had dreams like that, which he was thankful for. He couldn’t imagine what that boy had been through to continue to be tortured by his own mind like that.

The nightmares he had were just vague unsettling things that continuously crept over his mind the rest of the day, or at least until he snatched a cigar from someone. They were usually about improbable, sometimes childish things he felt guilty for letting bother him- monsters, his little brother getting hurt, or his family finding out something about him that he didn’t want anyone knowing.

Not that he had any secrets that bothered him like that. That’s what he told himself.

He decided it wasn’t worth it to get water, instead leaning his elbows on the trough and setting his head against his forearms. The cool breeze from the early spring rainstorm drifting in from the drafty windows felt nice against the clammy, bare skin of his back.

He just wanted to sleep. He was so tired every day no matter what he did.

After a few silent moments, listening to the rain, he felt the warmth of fingertips creep suddenly onto his shoulder. He jumped up, turning around and instinctively taking a defensive position with his fists balled. It was dark, but the curly mop of brown hair, hazel-green eyes, and toned muscles, visible even through his undershirt, told him who it was. Swifty was always doing that, sneaking up behind people and startling them whether he meant it or not. He was too nimble, too light on his feet.

“Jeez, what’d ya do that for?” Skittery whispered furiously, his face growing hot as he wished he had pulled on a shirt when he was leaving his bunk.

“Sorry, wanted to make sure you’s ok,” Swifty whispered back, his cheeks slightly red.

Of course it had to be Swifty, Skittery thought to himself. Swifty had to be the one to wake up, when he was one of the two causing all these problems in the first place.

Skittery didn’t blame the two boys for the feelings he got. It wasn’t their fault that he got lost in his head whenever Bumlets flipped his hair out of his face, or that he got a funny feeling in his stomach when Swifty adjusted his clothes. And it certainly wasn’t their fault for that sour, jealous mood that he couldn’t seem to shake after he walked into the lodge early one day, finding Bumlets being pushed up against the wall by Swifty, kissing his neck with his hands at his waist.

That wasn’t his business. He just wanted a lover- he was jealous for the relationship they had, that was all. He wasn’t going to let his silly envy get in the way of his friendship, or let it bother whatever they had going on.

“Can’t sleep?”

“No.”

Skittery watched as Swifty sat down on the weathered floorboards, much to his dismay, his dangling suspenders clattering on the hardwood. He wasn’t in the mindset to stay up with someone. He glanced back to his empty bunk, briefly pondering if he could return to it without seeming rude. He decided against it, reluctantly joining the boy on the floor and crossing his legs.

“You sick or something? You felt hot,” He asked softly. Swifty knew how hard it was to get Skittery into a conversation when he didn’t initiate it. It was somewhat of a skill, trying to carefully word his sentences to draw him in. Unfortunately, he was still groggy himself, meaning he wasn’t as slick with his tongue as he could be.

“No, just had a nightmare,” the tall boy mumbled back.

“You wanna tell me about it?” Swifty patiently asked.

“Already forgetting it.”

Swifty nodded, resigning himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to get much of a conversation out of him. After a beat of silence, he dug around in the pockets of his shorts and procured a cigarette, offering it to him. Skittery’s gaze flicked from it back to the other boy's eyes, before taking it from him and setting it in the corner of his mouth.

After successfully striking a match and lighting the cigarette, tendrils of smoke curling into the air, he leaned back on his elbows and looked Swifty up and down.

“What about you, huh? What are you doin’ up so early?”

“Just couldn’t sleep. Have a lot going on in my head,” he answered, somewhat relieved that the cigarette seemed to do the trick to get Skittery out of his shell, at least a little bit.

He hesitated for a moment, as if deciding whether he gave a fulfilling answer, before holding out the lit cigarette, embers glowing bright in the otherwise dark room. Swifty eyed him curiously, his bright eyes picking out details of the other boy's body best as he could in the darkness.

“When I get nightmares I cozy up to Bumlets, ya know. You ain’t got someone like that? A gal or a fella or nothin’?” Swifty asked, after passing the cigarette back.

Skitterys expression stiffened as he tried to ignore the knot forming in his stomach.

“No, I ain't got a gal like that. And I ain’t like you either.”

“Like me?” The curly haired boy replied, his eyebrows raising.

“Ya know with the,” Skittery’s eyes darted to the floor, unable to meet his eyes. “With the fellas.”

Swifty pulled his legs against his chest, narrowing his eyes. “Well jeez, that ain’t what I was askin’.”

“It ain’t your business.”

Swifty sighed, knowing he had ruined what little softness he had pried out of him. “Don’t see how. You’s a looker, Skits.”

Skittery felt his face flush, accompanied by a strange fluttering in his chest. He hated it. These feelings were stupid, impractical, and most importantly, could never be replicated. Swifty had Bumlets. They were happy together, and Skittery would just have to suck it up and bear through the agony that came with seeing them cuddling at night, or exchange kisses on the cheek in the morning, or playfully ruffle each other’s hair before buying papers.

It had never occurred to him how much these things bothered him until he had Swifty all to himself, with nothing else but a shared cigarette and that wretched insomnia.

“I’m going to try to sleep,” Skittery mumbled suddenly, Standing up and heading back towards the threshold between the bathroom and the bunks. In one motion, Swifty grabbed his wrist, pulled him back, and pinned his waist to the counter, gazing up at his face through the thick darkness.

“What the hell’s up with you lately, John?” He whispered furiously, tightening his grip below his ribs. Skittery stood like a statue, his mouth gaping open as he prayed his weak knees would hold him. Their chests were almost touching, and he could feel the steady rise and fall of his stomach against his own in the brief eternity before he could cough out an answer.

“Nothin’”, he said, his voice coming out small. His heart drummed as he watched a lock of Swifty's hair uncurl itself from his bangs and fall neatly onto his forehead. His eyes glistened in the shadows, filled with suspicion and curiosity.

“Nothings goin’ on with me, why’d you think that?”

“I dunno, maybe how you can’t seem to stand being around me during the day?”

Skittery took a breath, his arms glued to his sides. “It’s just me bein’ dumb, alright? Don’t worry about it.”

“Worry about it?! Skits you...” he slowly released his grip, his hands trailing down from his waist to his hips. “You ain’t...”

“I ain’t what,” Skittery breathed, barely audible over his heartbeat.

And in a split second, Swifty closed the gap between their mouths, his eyes fluttering shut as Skittery’s hands found their way onto the back of his neck. It was a tender, slow kiss, filled with questions and curiosity. Every thought or strange feeling left over from his nightmare had vanished. He wasn't sure if the rain was still falling- he couldn't hear a thing. Skittery discovered the other boy's lips were surprisingly silky, and he pulled away, chest heaving, with a fruity taste on his tongue.

“Why the hell did ya do that?” Skittery said quietly, his fingers biting into the shorter boy’s shoulders.

He shrugged in response, apparently more agitated from his response than alarmed from kissing his friend.

“I don’t get you, Victor,” he said uneasily as he saw Swifty’s face drifting up towards his again.

“Stop.” He pushed him away by his shoulders, struggling to put space in between them. “We can’t do this, Vic, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Do I really gotta walk you through why it’s ok to kiss a fella?”He answered in a bemused tone.

“It ain’t that, Swifty!” he said furiously, forgetting to lower his voice. “You think I don’t wanna do that every time I see ya?! You think I've been putting myself through this shit for nothin’? I ain’t meant for romance. And whatever feelings that gave me ain’t exactly exclusive to you either. I couldn’t make no one happy like they want me to. Nothin’ like that will ever work out for me.” He shoved him away, walking a few paces towards the windows. “And how could ya do somethin’ like this to a sweet fella like Bumlets?!” he added, his voice quiet again.

Swifty was strangely composed, standing straight up with his hands in his pant pockets. It was strange to see his friend like this. Skittery always spent most of his time contemplating everything, analyzing conversations and movements to make sure he was completely understanding what was going on. He never let a thing go misinterpreted. He was better with being told things straight out- it surprised Swifty that a kiss, which to Skittery might’ve meant anything, for once got his point across efficiently.

“That’s what you’s worked up about? That I kissed you while I still got Bumlets?” He asked, collected despite the fact his heart was still racing. “Me and him have been talkin’, Skits. He likes you too.”

The other boy froze, the words sending a peculiar feeling down his spine. “What do ya mean by that?��

“I mean he likes ya, I like ya, and we like each other.” He slowly approached him, as if to not startle him away. “I’m sayin’ if you wanna be in on whatever we got going on,” he trailed off, tenderly slipping his arms around his waist again.

“Ya mean it, Victor? You two…” he mumbled tentatively, his own hands creeping onto his midsection.

And before he knew it they were kissing again, searing and passionate. It was something that happened on instinct, a thing Skittery didn’t let control him very often. It was as relieving as it was terrifying.

Skittery pulled away abruptly, responding to Swifty's confused expression by holding a finger to his lips. He peered over him through the darkness at all the boys seemingly still asleep in the next room over. They were too visible for his liking, especially since he knew many of them pretended to be asleep to pry into others' business.

He grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him into one of the bathroom stalls, where they whispered little confessions in between long kisses, all the way till light started shining in from under the door and the clamor of waking boys told them they were moments from being discovered.

__________

The next day was gray, with rain that sprinkled heavily on and off. Normally, this would send Skittery into a worse mood than usual, causing him to barely get any papers sold, rather spending his day under shop awnings with the stack over his head. However he barely noticed the rain, and although his mouth was in a tight line and his eyebrows furrowed, there was a pink tinge to his cheeks that he couldn’t get rid of.

He remembered saying a lot to Swifty the night before, mostly embarrassing, sappy things that he carried on his shoulders with an air of shame. He remembered something about being in love, something about his heart melting when he sees Bumlets, something about him not being able to believe that the two handsomest guys in the lodge liked him. Recalling it made him cringe. He couldn’t believe he would let his guard down like that now that he was out of the moment.

He knew he had to talk to Bumlets soon and work out his feelings for him as he did with Swifty, but he could barely stand to be in the same room with either of them. He left early, turning away after hearing one of them call his name. He was aware he was just avoiding something that would have to be dealt with eventually. He was no good with feelings, or change for that matter.

Luckily the opportunity presented itself sooner than he preferred, when he settled on a bench under a damp umbrella in the park. It was a particularly heavy batch of rain, making him shiver no matter how tight he pulled his coat around him. He suddenly felt himself sandwiched by warmth, one of the boys on each side of him.

“Hey Skits,” he heard Bumlets say, although his gaze stayed fixed on the patch of ground in front of him. “Heard you was bein’ sweet with my fella last night,” he said in an amused tone, hitting his shoulder with his own.

Skittery felt paralyzed, staying silent as both boys looked at him expectantly. He felt a raindrop snake down his neck and down his collar.

“Why don’t ya tell Bumlets some of those things you told me last night,” Swifty added once it was clear that he wasn’t going to respond.

“Won’t you two leave me alone till later,” he finally answered, snapping his head up and looking at the boy on the right. He immediately regretted it. Bumlets’ damp bangs were drooping onto his forehead, his brown eyes illuminated curiously by the raindrops coming down. His shirt was half unbuttoned, revealing his collarbone dotted with freckles.

“We ain’t gonna leave you alone, Skits, not with weather as romantic as this!” He motioned wildly with his hand, collecting a few raindrops in his palm before drying it off on Skittery’s knee. “But we also ain’t gonna pressure you or nothin, right Bumlets?” Swifty added.

Skittery let both boys set their arms around him, although his shoulders were stiff and his face was hot. The three sat there, listening to each other breathing for hours with their arms tangled. The tall boy in the middle indulged himself just a little bit more by the minute, letting himself grow comfortable between them. He knew that's what he wanted. He knew that that’s what he had been dreaming about subconsciously for a lot longer than he cared to admit. It would take time for him to adjust, as it always did for him with new experiences and changes of his life.

But he was trying to get better at change. Maybe that’s why he let Swifty kiss his cheek, after checking that the rain had driven everyone out of the park. Maybe that’s why he let Bumlets take his waist and kiss him softly, when the moment felt right. And that’s why they walked back to the lodge, shivering, with their arms still hooked around each other, the tallest boy feeling on top of the world.

#this took me three weeks to write for some reason #im so used to writing tiny drabbles #newsies #newsies 1992 #newsies fanfiction #newsies fanfic #92sies fanfic #bumlets #swifty the rake #swifty the rake newsies #skittery #skittery newsies #bumlets x swifty x skittery #bumswiftery #bumskifty?#please i need more content for them #92sies #NEWSIES WRITING

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hammeredalcoholic · 5 years ago

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holy f I was waiting like 😩😩😩, how are you doing bby?, i’m just wanting to read some fluff and comfort with jotaro, any part, but idk, maybe his s/o stressed about job, everyone knows all the pressure that my guy has to deal with, but, he trying to be positive about it? that thought kills me 😔👌, luv ya!

yes!!!! thank you so much for the love btw!!! I’m doing alright-- just moved home from my dorm and in a writing mood. Also watching game theory for the first time in months. it’s nice. :)))

rated: sfw

God this fucking final was going to be the death of you. It was taking up all of your time-- hours upon hours of just writing and re-writing a simple paragraph. Who the hell said that a paper had to be this difficult? Oh yeah, your professor.

You were running on Dunkin Donuts coffee and 16 ounce Red Bulls. You swear you haven’t slept in over 16 hours, and the bags under your eyes were far from Gucci. This paper was frustrating beyond belief.

Leaning back away from your laptop, you sipped your large iced coffee, and groaned. You needed a break from this-- but if you did take just 5 minutes to look at your phone, your mindset would be thrown off completely.

That’s when your fiancee walked into the room. Jotaro Kujo-- the stoic, large man who you’d fallen hard for in high school. His appearance had changed slightly since those days, ditching his gakuran for a sleek black turtleneck.

You appreciated the minor change, to say the least.

Jotaro had a worried look on his face, his eyes darting over to your cluttered set-up. Papers scattered everywhere, pages of notes upon notes scribbled all over, and several cans of energy drinks littered every free space.

“I think you’re working too hard.”

You sighed at his words. Wasn’t that obvious? This essay was due in a couple days, and you had barely made any progress on it. It was beyond stressful, and you were definitely working yourself to the bone.

“Well, JoJo, I kinda have to. This paper could make or break my GPA.”

He shook his head at your response, his eyes narrowing at you.

“You need a break.”

What? Was he insane? You could not take a break right now-- there was too much work that needed to be done, the outline needed to be rewritten, your notes need to be polished up--

Strong arms wrapped around your midsection, lifting you up like you weighed a feather. You were then turned around and pressed against Jotaro’s chest, his hands moving down to support you by your bottom.

“Jotaro-- I can’t-- I have to--!”

He ignored your pleas, pressing a firm kiss to your lips to shut you up. You kissed him back, all of the worries you had started to melt down your back. Once he pulled back, you sighed.

Jotaro made his way to the couch in the living space of your apartment, sitting down and keeping you in his lap. You leaned into his chest as best as you could, listening to his calming heartbeat. His hand came up to rub your back, soothing your worries even further.

His other hand grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. He pulled up Netflix in the blink of an eye.

“What do you want to watch?”

“The Office.”

“I should have guessed.” He chuckled.

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drcrushers · 4 years ago

Text

name: in the midst of winter status: unfinished hades/persephone, angst/hurt/comfort i wrote this a while ago, and i don’t have immediate plans to finish it but thought y’all might like to read it! featuring hades in his favorite two moods: ‘i love my wife’ & ‘i will kill everyone in this room and then myself’.

Hadestown was a symphony, a loud and endless orchestra of assembly lines and pickaxes. It had lessened - slightly - and there were now voices that joined in, singing songs he couldn't recognize. The poet's doing. They were remembering, not just mindlessly working and toiling away. Trying, Hades had promised. So he was. And organizing the city into something more functional and less tyrannical had been the first step of it. The wall would come next, and so on. Dismantling everything pain-stakingly brick by single brick. Things would be better. Could be better. He just had to keep the constant mindset that his wife would come home. No more doubt - granted, his not-so-new union leader kept reminding him, as needed.

He'd hoped to have a decent amount of progress done on it to show Persephone when she returned; two less than harsh winters had gone by and the world was easing back into rhythm one season at a time.

He exchanged letters with his wife while she was up top, and they were learning how to work again. They'd started sharing a bed again, those soft touches and warm looks from their early years returning now that they were both trying. The world tried with them. Things were better. The symphony had changed.

But as Hades sat in his office pouring over ledgers, something about the symphony beyond the shutters was off. He couldn’t place how or why, but something set his teeth on edge and wormed beneath his skin like an itch unscratched.

A shrill whistle in the distance.

The train was running too fast.

Since the building of the thing it had run a steady pace along the tracks, ferrying souls from one life into the next. There was never any true rush; the dead weren't going anywhere, after all. The great machine chugged and hissed and belched clouds of steam, but it had always run it's average pace and the world had continued to spin as it always did. Even when things had been out of rhythm the train had been a constant - even if Hades had the tendencies to commandeer it to his use far too early at the end of the summer.

The whistle called again, the earth shook, and the train was still going too fast. A great concern that prompted Hades to leave his office and set out for the platform to see it's arrival, eager to see just what the hell was so damned important that the machine was straining under the speed at which it hurtled toward the underworld. Not that they had ever had an issue of derailment, it seemed pointless to strain the machine; if the engine broke, it meant repairs which meant labor, time, and money. He was going to have a few words with Charon when he stepped off the thing.

The transport pulled to a halt at the platform with a great hiss of steam and smoke and noise. Hades frowned, brows drawing together in the middle of his forehead. There was only one car attached to the train, which did not bode well. The only time Charon hauled one train was when Persephone went up top or came down below, and it was the middle of (an albeit very long) summer. Something wasn't right. Something heavy and sick settled into the pit of his belly like a great stone. Voices echoed in over the din of the underworld, three of them, singing harmonies he couldn't quite hear. Gritting his teeth, he shoved them out of his mind. Damned Fates.

The heavy rock in his stomach settled further when he saw who had stepped off the train onto the platform.

"Hermes.”

It wasn’t so much as the man himself as it was his appearance. In all the time Hades had known his nephew, Hermes had nary a hair out of place. He put great care into his appearance for numerous reasons (most of which Hades never cared to know). Usually all slick and silver and sporting his usual, leisurely smile. The Hermes standing before him now, however, was anything but. He was missing his suit jacket, which was alarming at best - but he could see stains at the cuffs that were a deep, purplish-red and a rather terrifyingly large spot of gold at his breast. His hands were clenched at his sides, white-knuckled and the usual rosy pallor to Hermes’ face was completely gone.

“I’ll explain on the train.” Hermes said quietly, his voice lacking it’s usual melody and tone. He felt his chest tighten, and he knew without a second of a doubt that whatever had brought Hermes barreling into his realm had to do with Persephone. He knew.

He only hoped that the golden ichor staining Hermes’ shirt did not belong to his wife.

There was work to be done, contracts to be signed, ledgers to check - but Hades put every notion of them out of his mind and climbed onto the train. Hermes followed and he was barely in the door before the great engine lurched and was off again, cranking up to full speed before either of them could find proper footing. A rock had settled deep in his gut, heavy and weighted and almost painful.

“I knew you’d have a fit if I sent a note.” Now that he could see him closer, Hades could see the dark circles under his eyes, the set to his brow and muscle jumping in his jaw. He looked frazzled, to say the least, which did not settle the uneasy storm brewing in Hades’ gut.

“Our girl - “ Hermes pressed his lips tightly together, moving toward the bar cart that had once been Persephone’s favorite. “Ain’t good; wouldn’t have come here otherwise.”

“Tell me what happened.” Hades could feel his voice rather than hear it; his blood already seemed to pound in his ears, roaring louder than the engine in the train. His chest tightened again, watching with a furrowed brow as Hermes poured himself a drink and gestured to the bottle, trying to offer him one as well. He jerked his head. “Tell me what happened to my wife.”

“You gotta promise to keep a level head -”

“I’m going to level your head off your shoulders in a damned minute.” Hades warned lowly, his voice more gravel than anything. His chest rumbled when he spoke, a dangerous sign of impending anger and rage and anything else he could drag up from the depths. While Hades knew his marriage was strained still, Persephone was his world. Without hesitation he’d throw the whole lot of his underworld into the pits of Tartarus if it meant keeping her. He was not an overly emotional man - until it came to her. Yes, he was a disaster at showing affection as of late. Yes, they hadn’t exactly been eye to eye. Things were tense, struggling, but that melody - it had returned at the hands of a poet with a voice of the gods themselves.

A promise to try again would mean nothing if Persephone was lost to him.

Dead gods did not frequent the underworld.

If she was dead, truly, he would feel it. Wouldn’t it? They’d been married far too long, he’d grown accustomed to her presence, her essence in his life. If it suddenly disappeared - even from the world above - he knows he’d feel it. Right?

Damn, he felt sick and Hermes hadn’t even said anything - which was alarming enough.

“She’s in rough shape. She put up one hell of a fight; sure you can guess this blood ain’t exactly mine. The idiots thought she’d come with ‘em willingly and they were more than wrong. She ain’t been conscious long enough to get a full story, but we’ve got the ones responsible. She tried to make me promise not to come and get ya, uncle.”

“Someone attacked her?”

“Not at first, but it turned into that. Tried to kidnap her. Or see if she’d go off with ‘em. Two mortal men, morons that they are. She resisted, o’ course. They made to steal her and drugged her drink to do it. Tried to carry her off and tie her up - reckon they didn’t do much of a job doin’ it cause our girl wasn’t havin’ it. Knives drawn to try and force her to do - well, what mortal men usually do, and that only pissed her off more. She was out of it, but - well, I expect it wasn’t too pretty, given how those two turned out lookin’.” Hermes drained his glass, and poured another. Hades was fighting the sickening slime that felt as if it’d settled in his gut. Persephone, attacked. By mortals. Assaulted. Worse.

And he hadn’t been there to protect her. Keep her safe, as he’d promised the first day they met in the garden. He’s broken a lot of those promises and paid the price for it - but keeping her safe had been one of the last few he’d kept. Now it was shattered. By two mortals.

He didn’t want to comment on Hermes’ remark about her not wanting him to find out. To be there. His heart did an uncomfortable flip in his chest. Why wouldn’t she want him there? Persephone was his life. Everything, wrapped in the beauty of the sun and stars themselves. Why would he not come to her side if she was injured? Not to mention unleash the fires of Tartarus itself in punishment to the two responsible for it? Anger slithered through the guilt and boiled beneath his skin hotly. No one disrespected his Queen. Even if they’d been on uneven ground, he and Persephone were trying again. That had been the promise. Had she reconsidered by not wanting him at her side? Would she turn him away? Gods - the more he dwelled on it, the more the anger and guilt fought for control. Hermes had gone silent to sip at his drink and study Hades, the gaze he could feel on him even after he turned away from his nephew.

Couldn’t the damn train go any faster?

He felt the shift between realms, the invisible barrier that separated the underworld from the mortal realm. It made the hair on his arm stand on end, rippling up to the nape of his neck. Uncomfortably. He didn’t like being in the mortal realm for work or for other purposes - he’d made that clear in his time one way or the other. Most of all to his wife, which was a thought that didn’t sit well with him either. He couldn’t be assed to go up and visit her, even when she asked. Too much work, he’d cited. Can’t get away.

Wasn’t much of a realm if it couldn’t run itself for a day without him, she’d replied. Even if they’d been trying again after the saga of the poet and the songbird, it didn’t mean things were perfect. He wanted to build a better home for her to come back to in the winter. To surprise her - which is why he’d been so set on working. It was harder to disassemble a city and a wall than it was to build it. But what use was the damn place if Persephone couldn’t come home at all? Attacked. His wife had been attacked.

In all their years together, he’d never had such a feeling. Persephone had never been in danger during their marriage. How could a god be in danger with their power, their wisdom?

Hades had faced the idea of losing his wife through divorce, but at least she’d be alive. Well. Perhaps happy, unshackled from him. He’d never faced the idea of her death. It was impossible. She couldn’t die. She was the goddess of life, vibrant and beautiful and thriving in any environment.

Except, she could die. Anything living could. Wither like a flower under the worst frosts.

He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. Hermes didn’t speak, leaving him to his terrible, twisting thoughts edged on by the harmonizing voices in his ear. With the sickness in his gut came a great and awful anger, rolling like some of his brother’s tsunamis through his boiling blood. Heat rose to his skin, fingers curling into his palms against his face and digging in until he couldn’t feel the sting of his own nails anymore. The white-hot rage burned brighter than any sun ever thought of. The fires of Tartarus itself resided in his chest, and would not be quelled.

Death would be too good for the mortals who had dared to touch his wife. Persephone was his by law and by right and by every-other-fucking-rule in the universe. Not some tiger to be taught and tamed. No, they would face fates worse than death by the time he got his hands on them.

The voices in his ear only seemed to encourage the sudden fury and ire.

They had hurt his wife. By the time he finished with the mortals, they would only wish Hades had hurt them in return. No one could or would take Persephone from him not now and not again --

And Hades stopped, thoughts stuttering for a moment.

Persephone did not belong to him. She was fierce all her own, not a bird to be caged. He had learned that - albeit begrudgingly. Capable of defending herself and any under her wing. And it was true, she was not a trophy to be displayed or a tiger to be caught and tamed, most especially by him. That, in essence, had been his downfall. Thinking Persephone belonged to him and belonged to the realm.

She chose to love him. To give up her life, at first. Would she be happy if Demeter had simply let go? Let her be happy as a permanent resident of the underworld, the dread queen for eternity? Hades wanted her to be - more than anything. Persephone brought life to the underworld in a natural way he could not. And when he tried, it looked artificial and wrong and unnatural; her voice sings out loudest above the trio of old women, harsh and critical of the world he thought he’d build for her. Coax her down from her home in the sky to roost below. Make her happy.

That’s all he wanted in the end. Persephone, happy. With him. That he would be enough for her.

How stupid he’d been in thinking that bullshit. He was enough, she’d told him so. Promised it. And he’d doubted her. Not trusted her.

Hades thought he might grovel at her feet when he saw her next, but it only dragged his mind back to the present situation at hand. The guilt returned, the fury swallowing him whole. The inside of the train was cast in a dark, shaded red through his vision.

“Uncle, you’re gonna burn a hole in that seat and cuss me when you realise it.” Hermes’ voice drew him into some fraction of reality. Hades looked down; he’d grabbed a hold of the bench cushion beneath him and the fabric was smoking vaguely beneath his palms. He released his hold with a low growl, standing swiftly in favor of pacing the aisle down the middle of the train car. Contemplating how he could so easily rip the mortal realm apart just because he could, in retribution for the sins of two morons. Raze the land and strip it all back until the earth was raw and cracked and bleeding rivers of magma.

Sometimes, Hades wondered if he was so different from his father after all.

Of course he wouldn’t destroy Gaia, Hades was better than that. So he liked to think. Fire and brimstone and all that be damned. He would if Persephone asked him to, though. He knew he’d do just about anything she asked. Try to. Assuming what she wanted had been the mistake, too. What if he’d done something so foolish? If he were his father, it wouldn’t take a second thought to level everything and rebuild it to his liking because he thought Persephone would like it.

The train finally began to slow and Hades felt the knot in his gut tighten again. He had wanted to see her sooner rather than later, but not like this. Anything but like this.

It was strange, the platform being devoid of life.

The weather was strange; a dense fog had settled near the ground, but he could tell by the way it crunched beneath his feet that a snap frost had settled in, crisping the grass and flora in a way he was only used to seeing done when Demeter threw her usual seasonal tantrum. The sky itself was overcast, dark and stormy as if it might open up and pour on them at any moment. And yet, beneath it all, the world was still steadfastly green and alive. The oxymoron wasn’t lost on him as he made quick work of the path between the platform and where he knew Demeter’s place to be - for his wife would be there, without a doubt. Hermes said nothing of his quick steps, just followed half a step behind with those lips pressed into a thin line.

Trees were in bloom, but not for long; flowers almost frozen in time among the frost and fog. The world was in a deep unbalance and it made his pace quicken.

Surely if Persephone had - if she had died, he’d know. Surely.

As Demeter’s house came into view through the hazy air, he could only imagine the state of the garden behind the place. He didn’t want to consider it, or the implications. Would Persephone have to stay up top longer to recover? To make sure the mortals didn’t starve? Would she demand it? Hades wasn’t sure he’d be able to give it to her - frankly he wasn’t keen on letting her out of his sight as soon as he set his sights on her again. To know she was certainly safe at all times; she would understand.

(Except, deep down, he knew she absolutely wouldn’t).

The porch steps didn’t even have time to creak beneath his weight as he took them two at a time. Ignoring the rust color smear of blood on the railing. The door opened before he could touch it and for the first time in a while, Hades was met with the face of his sister.

Time had changed Demeter much as it had him. She hadn’t gone full white just yet, but she’d soon be a beautiful, silvery gray. The eyes of their mother, her lips set into a thin line, and wrinkles in her brow that weren’t just an expression, but set permanently there from repeated motion. She was a head shorter than him, close to his wife’s height. He recalled her looking slightly more put together at their last face-to-face interaction compared to the dressing robe she had belted at her waist now, feet bare beneath.

“You can’t -”

“You tell me I can’t be here and we’ll have a problem.” He rumbled, cutting across her before she could finish. A mistake, the way her eyes darkened.

“You can’t see her yet you damned fool. Let me get a word in edge-wise next time and you can save that glare for someone who deserves it.” Demeter replied sharply, but stepped aside to grant him and Hermes entrance. She didn’t look pleased to do it, frankly, and Hades couldn’t blame her - though he couldn’t tell if the expression on her face was due to his appearance, or the attack on her daughter. Both, perhaps. Hades didn’t care one way or the other. His intentions were clear, and he made for the stairs the second his eyes briefly adjusted to the dim light of the interior.

“What the hell did I just say?” Demeter hissed, grabbing his sleeve sharply to stop him. “She’s in enough pain without you addin’ to it right now. She’s restin’, and doesn’t need your stubborn fool of a self bargin’ in.”

“That’s my wife.”

“And that’s my daughter. Don’t pull the relative card, ‘cause I guarantee I can match you tit for tat, brother.” Demeter said, voice sharp. An edge to it he hadn’t heard or noticed before. There was a darkness under her eyes that told him she hadn’t rested in some time. “Bad enough you been sendin’ her up here winter after winter late and her nearly in tears. I don’t know what the hell y’all are doin’ down there to hurt her --.”

“I promised to wait for her.” Hades rumbled, cutting his sister off - again, a mistake, but she didn’t immediately try and rebute. “And I did. And I will. But like hell I’m standin’ down here while she’s up there hurt. I’m gonna see her, and then I’m gonna come down here and we’re gonna talk about the ones responsible.” The last was said far more darkly - a promise, not a threat. Hades shot a look to Hermes, who had stood by silently. “And if you’re that worried ‘bout our marriage, I’m sure the old gossip here can fill ya in if he ain’t already ‘bout what’s changed. Not that it’s your business anyway.”

Demeter made a noise that wasn’t quite a word, but had lessened her grip enough on Hades’ sleeve for him to jerk free.

“I’m the one who told Hermes to come get you and you’re makin’ me regret it real bad, Hades.” Demeter gathered herself enough to speak again, voice low. Not unlike Persephone’s when she was furious with him. That did give him pause, however - to know Demeter had sent for him. Not exactly something she was known for.

“I appreciate the thought.” He ground out. He’d deal with her likely wrath later, but it wasn’t something high on his priority list even if she’d done the decent thing and made Hermes come for him. For now, Hades had one goal in mind and that was seeing his wife, ensuring she was safe and would recover. He’d been facing his sister’s wrath for centuries, and it would be no different to him now. “If she’s asleep, I won’t wake her. I just need to see her.”

I need to see she’s alive and safe with my own two eyes.

Demeter didn’t stop him this time when Hades ascended the stairs. They creaked beneath his steps too, not unlike the porch ones. The entire house was worn and old and well lived in, a far cry opposite of his home below. Before Persephone, the place had been desolate and cold and just to his tastes. After their marriage she’d attempted to breathe life into the place, make it more lived in - but it was difficult to keep houseplants alive and remember to dust when Hades had so much work on his shoulders. Realms did not run themselves. Eventually she’d stopped trying, around the time the drinking had started. He’d eventually had to hire on a few shades as household staff just to keep the place tidy so he didn’t have to hear Persephone loudly complaining when she returned home.

He shoved those thoughts from his mind.

Past. In the past. All of it had to stay in the past. They were moving forward. Winter promises to be made true in the spring. Hardest thing he’d ever fucking done, waiting for that six month mark to get there and he was still up top early anyway. That, and trying to figure out how to rip everything he’d built in the past decades. Hadestown couldn’t run the way it was, that much had been made clear. But he’d also learned a lesson - as much as he wanted to surprise his wife with something as big as factories or mines being closed down, he knew it would be far wiser to wait for her return. To build the realm into something together, a place to be something than everlasting hell for any and all.

Future thoughts. For a future when Persephone would return home, perfectly alive and well.

The door to her room was cracked, first on the left. He remembered which one because there was a great tree outside her window she used to climb down in the middle of the night to sneak away and meet him for a midnight tryst those first summers apart. For a moment, Hades felt nervous. Anxious. Afraid. For no real reason, in truth, except that he feared what might be on the other side.

He shoved that down too, and carefully slipped into the room.

Things had not changed in Persephone’s room. So he thought; he’d never actually been inside. Like the rest of the house it was well lived in, with a worn, wooden wardrobe instead of a closet where the drawers were a bit crooked and likely didn’t open easy anymore. A mirror hung above another dresser was littered with scrap of makeup, some small bits of jewelry that he only vaguely recognized, and several small plants that were so lush they were nearly spilling out of their pots. He could imagine the sun streaming in through the windows but with the strange haze outside that day, beyond the glass was simply gray. The paint on the window ledges was peeling a bit, the white chips similar but not quite the same as the wall color. Eclectic, but cozy.

In the midst of it all beneath a patterned quilt on the bed, lay his wife.

As Demeter had said, she was sleeping. Fitfully, given the small furrow to her brow. Her hair was plastered across the pillow and he could see soft flecks of gold within the ringlets - ichor, transferred from whatever wounds hiding beneath that quilt. Her face had lost some color to it, which made the purplish bruise at her temple stand out even more. Her hands were on top of the quilt and he could see the bandages that covered a good portion of her hands, wrists, and arms - knife wounds, if he had to guess without peeling back the bandages. Her lip was busted too, angry and red. The more Hades took in of her, the more fury that built into his gut like a bonfire roaring to reach the sky.

He rested a hand against the bedpost, gripping it tightly to keep himself grounded. There was something entirely unsettling about seeing her like this, to know he had failed in protecting her. Sure she’d been hurt before - small things, nothing serious except the times they’d lost their children before they’d been more than a flicker of life. Even then she had not looked nearly so . . . so . . - Hades felt his chest tighten fiercely. Painfully. Not quite in a panic, but not quite relief.

Gods.

Mindful of his steps, Hades carefully moved to the side of the bed. Persephone didn’t stir. Not that he wanted her to - she needed rest. But he couldn’t help himself to reach out and brush the back of his fingers across her cheek, desperate to feel her warmth for himself. She looked too much like a corpse without the color to her face and the rise and fall of her chest hidden by the quilt. His heart leapt into his throat when her head turned a fraction, her lids twitching before he was graced with the sight of those dark honeyed eyes. Galaxies resides in those eyes, endless and infinite and beautiful. He’d told her as much before, but not often enough.

“You’re early.” She whispers as her eyes seemed to adjust to take in his appearance. There was a strange cloud to her voice, a slight haze to her expression that reminded him of the fog outside. Then he remembered what Hermes had said - her drink had been drugged. “I missed ya.” He murmured lowly. She blinked slowly a few times and shifted slightly; he didn’t miss the way she grimaced when she tried to grab the blanket with her wrapped hands. Hades silently moved to help her, adjusting her cover in what he hoped was the way she wanted. All his words seemed to have died in his throat, heavy and sticky and unsaid.

“You didn’t have to come.” She broke the quiet silence again. “I told ‘em -.”

“I know you told ‘em, and I’m here anyway.” Hades shuffled for a moment, uncertain. Like a damned fool. He’d come all this way and he felt like a nuisance more than anything. She hadn’t wanted to see him. Hadn’t wanted him to know. Hadn’t -

“I’m glad you did.”

Hades swallowed thickly, and nodded once - business like. Then he thought better of it and sat down on the very edge of the bed. Not quite crowding her space, but close enough he could reach out and gentle cradle one of her bandaged hands in his own. He was careful, mindful that it felt like he was holding a piece of glass. Persephone never was a fragile soul, but something about the bandages made him hesitant. Worried he’d hurt her. He’d done enough of that, as of late.

“I didn’t want you to worry.” Persephone continued, cheek pressed against her pillow to look at him. Her fingers twitched in his own, and he brought them to rest in his lap. “Knew I’d find out sooner or later. Would rather be here. Make sure you’re okay.” Hades replied, brushing his thumb gentle over the roughened edges of the bandages at her hand. As a goddess it wouldn’t take long for her to heal, but seeing the injuries - well, it set his teeth on edge. Even if her wounds would only sustain a few hours, it was enough to remind him how very easily he could lose her. Something that did not sit well with him, not at all. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Wasn’t asleep.” She supplied with a sigh heavier than most. “Just tired.”

“Then you oughta be restin’.”

“Suppose you’ve come to take me home to do that.”

Hades, who had been studying her hand in his lap with quiet contentment, lifted his head to meet her gaze. It was a bit clearer now, not crowded by a haze of sleep and whatever drug. His lips pressed into a thin line. He could easily say yes, and scoop her up to carry her back down below without another word. Who could stop him? Demeter, Hermes? Persephone? None of them. He’d feel better having her down below to keep an eye on, to ensure there wouldn’t be lingering effects or a second attempt by some other moron mortals who stepped out of line - shades couldn’t hurt Persephone the way their mortal counterparts could.

“No.” He said simply. “I made my promise. I’ll keep it. I just . . . I needed to see ya, after Hermes told me. I wanted . . . wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Her brows furrowed for a moment as if she didn’t understand.

“You came to visit?”

“Reckon so.” He murmured. “Should’ve done it sooner. Didn’t know if you wanted me to or not though. Wish I had - could’ve been here to protect you.”

“Don’t you start that self-blamin’ bull, Hades.” Persephone warned in a tone stronger than what he thought her currently capable of. “Ain’t your fault.”

“I promised -”

“And you kept your promise.” She huffed. “You can’t expect me not to get scraped up. I defended myself. You ain’t gotta hover over me and protect me at any given second.”

“No, but I want to. You’re . . . you’re my wife. I’m meant to keep you safe. Happy. Reckon I’ve fucked that up enough that I wanted to keep what promises I could.”

Persephone’s lips twitched.

“You really ain’t gonna take me back now?”

“I promised to wait. I will. Long . . . long as you come home when you do.”

Persephone’s expression softened.

“Don’t I always?” He felt her fingers tighten briefly in his own, a small flex that meant the world. He gently lifted her bandaged fingers to his lips to press several small kisses to them, lips lingering against her skin.

“I thought I’d lost you.” He whispered into the silence that had settled again, adjusting into a more comfortable position on the edge of the bed. Persephone shifted too, offering more room that he dare not yet take. Some part of him still assumed she’d come to any sort of sense and kick him out - but that wasn’t what they were doing. They were trying. Supposed to be.

“Can’t get rid of me that easy, husband.” Persephone gave the slightest flicker of a smile that made the rock in his chest melt. Seeing that smile meant she was okay, in his mind. She’d be just fine. Of course if he lingered for a while to make sure of it - well, that was neither here nor there.

“Good.”

“Now you gonna get in this bed with me?”

Hades blinked. Persephone shuffled around, wincing, but continued until she had left a decent amount of space open on the bed (which, was impressive given the size of the bed). She looked expectant, and it took Hades a moment to understand her intent.

“I - d’you really want that?”

“Do it before I change my mind. I’ve had a bad damn day.”

Hades hesitated, but didn’t disobey. Shifting awkwardly, he moved to lay in the space she had offered. It was a tighter squeeze, but Persephone didn’t seem bothered. Instead, she rolled onto her side and pressed herself against his chest before he could even adjust. It had been some time since they’d shared a bed, much less been close as this. Yet, it seemed there had been no time at all that had passed in that time. Hades allowed himself the freedom of wrapping an arm gingerly around his wife - and she did not protest.

“I missed you.” She murmured, voice muffled against his chest. “You’re still on my shitlist, but I’ve missed you.”

Hades chuckled faintly, and pressed a kiss to her hair.

“Wouldn’t expect anythin’ less, lover.”

“Stay, then? I know you’re gonna go and have your meltdown at the two idiots but - stay for a while, here?”

#hadestown #unfinished fic #hades #persephone

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luna-is-a-main-now · 5 years ago

Text

Your Words and Feelings, Chapter One

When his alarm went off, Virgil flinched in surprise as his eyes snapped quickly to the time displayed at the top corner of his phone. Had he really stayed up all night again? Apparently, yes, he had, and he was sure to get called out about it later. With a heavy, exhausted sigh, he made the alarm shut up and reluctantly rolled out of bed to start getting ready for the day. After doing his regular morning routine, he grabbed some food and finally looked down at his hand to check for the writing he knew would be there.

In red ink and fancy handwriting in the middle of the back of Virgil's hand was a small line of text reading: Good morning, my loves, I hope you all have a lovely day!

Below it, Virgil watched as sky blue ink in a curly, bubbly font quickly appeared in response, showing a drawing of a smiley face with a text bubble that cheerily proclaimed "You too! Thank you, Red!"

Virgil grinned as he pulled out his purple pen and scrawled back a small, quick note above the red. "Thanks Princey, right back at ya." With a sigh, he grabbed his stuff and set off for school, not even bothering to see if the owner of the occasional dark blue ink would reply. He rarely did, but Virgil got the impression that he appreciated seeing the notes from his soulmates nonetheless. At least, Virgil hoped he wasn't bothering him or the others with his little notes.

Entering his first class, Virgil sighed heavily as he dropped his bag heavily to the floor by his desk, then proceeded to drop himself heavily into his chair, both resulting in loud thumps. One more small thump sounded as Virgil laid down heavily over his desk, hiding his head in his arms and appreciating the soft warmth his hoodie’s sleeves provided.

He ignored the teacher as class started, figuring that because it was the Friday before a three day weekend, they wouldn’t expect them to do anything too important anyway. Not that he really cared right now even if it were important. He honestly would not have budged the whole time he had been in class if it hadn't been for the hesitant taps he felt on his arm. He snapped his gaze up with a glare, expecting it to be the teacher, but his eyes immediately softened when he saw that it was just the kid who sat next to him, looking hesitant as he fiddled with and adjusted his glasses numerous times.

“Hey… do you by any chance have a pen I can borrow? I must have dropped mine on the way to school.” Virgil sighed softly, but he looked so hopeful and desperate that Virgil couldn’t bring himself to say no. So he handed over the first pen he found, only realizing too late that it was his purple pen, the one he only used when communicating with his soulmates. The person who Virgil had given the pen to thanked him profusely and quickly started taking the notes before Virgil could do anything about his mistake though, and now he felt far too anxious to ask for it back before he was done using it, despite the pen belonging to him. He just hoped he would get it back, but for now, Virgil just put his head down again. He was too tired to deal with things at the moment.

The sound of the bell dismissing first period startled Virgil out of his half asleep state, causing him to slam his knee into the metal leg of his desk suddenly, and do so with enough force that it made Virgil’s stomach hurt. He hissed in pain at the same time the person next to him did, as they both reached for their knee. Surprise and dim recognition lit up in Virgil’s eyes as he rubbed at his knee, but the boy next to him hadn’t even realized what had happened, and was too preoccupied checking over his own knee to notice Virgil.

“Show me your hands,” Virgil requested, his voice still a bit gruff from exhaustion and pain. The person in question looked up at Virgil and nervously picked at the cardigan draped over his shoulders. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached his hands out to Virgil while looking at him curiously and very confused. Grabbing the one he knew it would be, should Virgil be right, he bit his lip and looked at it closely. Not that he needed to look to close before catching the fancy red script followed by sky blue and purple ink, and a small dark blue check mark. Checking his own hand, Virgil realized he must have missed it while he was asleep, but he had the dark blue check mark on his hand as well. Giving the boy in front of him a tired smile, Virgil held his hand out as well, watching as his new-found soulmate’s face went from puzzled to elated in seconds when he realized.

“Oh this is wonderful! I’m Patton!” He enthusiastically introduced himself as he seemed to literally vibrate with happy energy. Before Virgil knew it, Patton had flung his arms around Virgil’s neck and pulled him in for a hug. “I’m the sky blue ink! I’m assuming you’re purple?” He giggled softly as he stepped back to hand Virgil his purple pen back. Virgil could only nod numbly, being too tired to really keep up with Patton’s quick speech and excitable energy.

“Uh, I’m Virgil.” Virgil smiled at the slightly shorter boy, then pulled his phone out from his jacket pocket. Unlocking it, he quickly navigated to the phone keypad and handed it to Patton. “Give me your number? That way we can talk over the weekend?” Virgil offered awkwardly. He needn’t have been worried though. Patton beamed brightly at his suggestion and eagerly grabbed the phone from Virgil’s hands. Virgil had never seen someone type so quickly in his life.

“Ooh! I have C lunch! What do you have? If you’re up for it, we can meet up and talk then!” Patton bounced up and down excitedly. He beamed at Virgil as he handed him his phone back.

“I have C lunch too, and yeah I’m down for meeting up and talking then. I need to get going now though or I’ll be late for my next class… but I’ll see you later?” He smiled softly at Patton, and he nodded vigorously, before quickly grabbing his stuff and basically skipping out of the room with a cheery goodbye.

Virgil blinked, half believing he had imagined it all through his sleep deprived state, but glancing down at his phone, Patton’s contact was still there. Virgil smiled when he noticed he had added a sky blue heart emoji after his name. Virgil decided to keep it that way forever, and he really hoped that soon, he’d have two other names in his phone set up in similar style.

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

Roman felt completely and utterly drained and fully exhausted, right down to his very soul. One or more of his soulmates must have pulled yet another all-nighter, and he had a pretty good idea of who it was. It was becoming much too common a habit these days, and Roman was getting sick of it, even though he knew that if it was the person he thought, he couldn’t control it any more than Roman could.

However, on the same token, normally Roman was a morning person. Before, people had even said that he practically glowed in the morning; they would always say that Roman was so bright and full of energy and that it made them happy to see someone so excited about every day, no matter how weird that mindset was as a freshman in college. Roman didn’t care that it was weird, he loved being full of energy and starting the day off in a positive mood. After all, the whole world’s a stage, as the saying goes, and Roman needed energy to perform his very best on that stage.

However, with the extreme lack of sleep running in the background of his brain all the time, all he got now was concerned comment after concerned comment. Roman was touched that his peers and teachers cared about his well being and that they actually checked in when his normally chipper mood was drastically different, but he swore he was going to scream if one more person asked him if he was alright when he was so clearly not. Despite Roman’s strict sleeping schedule and him getting more than the typically recommended eight hours, he still felt exhausted straight down his very bones. It was annoying. It also didn’t help that his knee hurt, also a result of one of his soulmates.

Sometimes the shared feelings bond between soulmates was such a hassle. Sure, he enjoyed feeling when his soulmates were excited and happy about things, as it made him feel all warm inside, happy that they were happy. However, he hated when he could feel when they were sad, depressed, hurt, angry, in pain, tired, etc and had no way to be there for them and help. All he could do now was write messages to them in red ink, and not even the messages that truly mattered such as his name, his number, or his location in order to meet them faster, due to whatever strange magic governed the soul bond between soulmates.

Grudgingly, Roman pulled out his fancy red pen, the pen he used only to write to his soulmates, because they were special and deserved a special pen. Wiping away their standard morning greetings with the help of a one-use rubbing alcohol pad, Roman began to write in his fancy, flowing script. He couldn't help but notice that it was actually much sloppier than it normally was. He couldn’t really bring himself to care all that much either though. He blamed his exhaustion and frustration for both.

Okay, which one of you pulled another all nighter? This is three in a row and it’s getting a bit ridiculous. Also, who hurt themselves? My knee has been aching all morning! You all must be more careful; injuries especially when exhausted have more effect, you know.

The scrawling purple text was slow to appear. It was as if the writer was hesitant. Roman felt bad that he had been so demanding; he never wanted his loves to be hesitant around him.

Sorry Princey. Those were both me. Insomnia is hitting me hard this week; I’ll try harder to sleep tonight. As for the knee… I got startled and rammed it into the metal leg of my desk. Not the best start to my morning, honestly.

Roman winced in sympathy. That all sounded horribly unpleasant. Roman wished he knew the owner of the purple ink. He wondered if he could help with the sleep issue in any way. He understood that insomnia couldn’t be controlled, but he wondered if maybe he could be able to help at least by singing or cuddling him till he was lulled to sleep. He wished to meet his soulmates soon; he was a hopeless romantic and thrived off of giving and receiving affection, love, and care with those he loved dearly. Despite never meeting his soulmates, Roman already knew he loved them to the very bottom of his heart. He only wished he could show them just how much in person.

Then, strangely, a small note began to appear on Roman’s wrist. However, this note wasn’t in purple, sky blue, or dark blue, the only colors his soulmates used. It was in a thick, dark black ink, like that of a sharpie marker.

Note to self: replace lost pen. Also, cookies? Or brownies?

The last part gave away who had written that easily enough and Roman chuckled. It was sky blue, or as they had nicknamed him, Padre. He was always making lists and reminders on his skin, and a lot of them pertained to sweets most of the time. Roman couldn’t wait to try the baked goods his soulmate must be quite good at making by now.

Okay, don’t worry about it Stormcloud. Roman wrote to purple, smiling as he used their occasional nickname for him. Take it easy today though, alright? Maybe ice that knee when you can. Also, Padre, did you really lose your pen?

Roman couldn’t help but smirk as he wrote back, addressing sky blue. He really did hope purple got some rest soon though, his insomnia was getting much worse lately and it was concerning. However, he was thoroughly amused at sky blue’s forgetfulness. He found it endlessly endearing and adorable, even though he had never seen it in person. This time, when Padre wrote back, it was in standard black ink pen, which Roman figured he must have just found in order to abandon the sharpie.

Yeah, I must have dropped it on the way to school or something! No biggie though; at least it was something easy to replace, even though I did love that pen in particular!

Roman smiled at that, too. He loved everything about his soulmates, even the one who used dark blue ink and didn’t interact as much as the other two. He had explained before that he didn’t really like writing on his skin directly, but that he didn’t mind seeing his soulmates converse. In fact, he had admitted it was enjoyable to see them talk, even if he wasn’t a part of it all that often.

Oh! Princey, Padre and I met this morning in class. Maybe now that one of us has met the other, that means we’ll all see each other soon? I hope so, at least. What about you?

The purple ink’s words made Roman’s heart stop for a second. Stormcloud and Padre had met? Oh, Roman was jealous, 100%, but he was also beyond excited.

Oh, I do hope so too! I can’t wait until I meet you all! Then I can spoil you all properly with plenty of love and affection!

Roman sighed happily as he began daydreaming about meeting his soulmates again for the thousandth time. He wanted to know all about them. He loved them with all his heart; they were all bound to be wonderful people and Roman had always felt so incredibly lucky that he seemed to have three wonderfully unique soulmates that he was destined to be with one day. It made his romantic heart melt and ache all at once everytime he thought about it. Checking his hand and the ink that had travelled up and down his arm as space ran out, he realized that Stormcloud had only responded with a checkmark, due to there being no open spaces left to respond. Roman quickly added his check mark, and so did dark blue and Padre. On cue, the ink started to disappear as one or more of them began wiping away the writing, save for Padre’s sharpie note.

The four of them had come up with that system long ago; if multiple parties were conversing and space ran out, they would all have to indicate whether or not it could be erased. Without 100% agreement, the writing would stay in order to prevent each other from getting rid of important things or things they hadn’t read yet. Dark blue, or Teach, as they often called them, had proposed that plan, and Roman had to admit that it worked perfectly for all of them.

After everything was wiped off, Roman smiled fondly at his arm, still stained with the colors of his soulmates. Occasionally, even wiping the ink off so soon after it was applied still left ghost marks of the words and colors behind. Roman loved that it occasionally looked like his arm was a faded tie-dye project. It was colorful and beautiful and served as a pleasant reminder of how lucky he was. Roman adored it.

Eventually, and with a small sigh of exhaustion, Roman decided to head off of his college campus, and toward a local coffee shop that had opened close by recently. He didn’t have any more classes today anyway, and a friend had told him that the coffee there tasted simply amazing, and that even other people who claimed to not be coffee people liked their stuff. Personally, Roman had never been overly fond of coffee, but he did appreciate the effects it had, especially in times such as these when he felt he might pass out at any second. He felt more and more tired as time passed, and he could only guess at how awful purple must be feeling since the exhaustion originated from him. However, Roman couldn’t help him yet, so he had to settle for trying to chase away the exhaustion that crept into his own system from the soul bond.

As he pushed open the door to the small little cafe, a small bell chimed pleasantly to announce his arrival. An employee greeted him politely with some sort of standard welcome, and Roman politely smiled and nodded at her in acknowledgement. He quickly walked up to the order counter and looked over the menu.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” The cashier asked cheerfully, smiling at him brightly. Roman smiled back at her tiredly.

“Ah, what do you suggest? I’m normally not much of a coffee guy, but a friend insisted I try coffee from here and that it would change my mind.” Roman chuckled softly. “It’s my first time here so I honestly don’t know what most of this,” he gestured slightly at the menu off to the side, “is. What’s good, is basically what I’m asking.” Roman laughed slightly, the notes laced thick with nerves and exhaustion. The cashier only smiled back at him again.

“Oh this happens all the time now! So many non-coffee drinkers have been coming in lately on advice from a friend; it’s kinda crazy actually!” She chuckled and threw her hands out in an ‘I dunno’ gesture. “People new to coffee typically like sweeter drinks as opposed to more bitter, so a frappuccino might be a good place for you to start! I personally say you can’t go wrong starting off with a standard vanilla or mocha frappuccino, depending on your tastes.” She offered helpfully, pointing to the mentioned items on the menu so Roman could look at the printed pictures of them more closely.

“Ooh, I do indeed like sweet things! Let’s go for the mocha thingy you said.” Roman chuckled as he forgot what it was called already. “Thank you for the help by the way.”

“Frappuccino, but most just call it a frappe or a frap.” She explained with a smile. “You’re welcome, and what size would you like?”

“Ah, probably a large if I’m to make it through the day. I’m exhausted; my soulmate pulled an all nighter.” Roman explained with a little laugh.

“Oh I know the feeling.” She chuckled. “That will be $2.34, would you like anything else?”

“That’s all, thank you. You’ve been a wonderful help.” Roman pulled his wallet out and gave her a five. “Keep the change as a tip, okay? I hope you have an absolutely wonderful day and night ahead!” Roman smiled at her brightly. She grinned at him brightly and nodded, waving at him as he walked to the end of the counter where they put out completed orders.

It didn't take very long for his drink to be called, and an employee handed the drink directly to Roman. Thanking him, Roman grabbed a straw and took a test sip of his drink. He hummed, pleasantly surprised at the taste. It was sweet, but not overpoweringly so, and the drink was smooth and perfectly blended, and the soft scent of coffee mixed with the whipped cream and chocolate drizzle on the top just made the drink seem all the more better to him.

On a whim, Roman checked his hand again, delighted to see more writing. This time it was in dark blue ink, meaning their seldom seen soulmate was reaching out. Roman couldn’t be happier about it.

Purple, please try to get sleep tonight. Your immune system must be severely compromised from the lack of sleep you are already experiencing. Sky, please also eat some healthy foods; not just baked goods, okay?

Roman smiled. This was how Teach showed his love, despite them all having heard the same advice over and over again. It seemed as though he valued how much his soulmates practiced self care and healthy choices, which Roman found touching.

Yeah, I got it Teach. Sleep is important, I know. Thank you for the reminder though.

Oh, I suppose I could pick up stuff to make food other than baked goods. However, I wanna show Stormcloud my famous chocolate chip cookies now that we’ve met! And I’ll do the same for all of you when it’s our turn to meet!

Roman practically squealed in delight as he pulled out his red pen to reply to that. However, he ended up bumping right into someone, and spilled both of their coffee’s. Roman winced, embarrassed at his careless mistake, but also managed to pull the person out of the way in time so that nothing spilled on him personally. He still felt bad about the lost coffee and the huge mess he had created in the middle of the cafe.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” Roman cried. “I should have been paying more attention, are you alright?” He asked, as the other male adjusted his glasses with a disgruntled expression. Roman’s eyes caught on a flash of dark blue, light blue, and purple ink on his hand before it was hidden again, but he couldn’t help but notice the dark blue pens in his shirt pocket. Roman wanted it to be true, but he swallowed down his excitement for now.

“I am alright. Unfortunate to lose my coffee before I can assume any of its benefits, but no matter. Are you alright? I admit it was also partially my fault.” He frowned slightly, as if he didn’t quite like how that had been presented, but was almost too tired to care. Roman noted that he didn’t have dark circles under his own eyes, so the extreme exhaustion he was displaying was a result of the soul bond, not his own sleep schedule. That only gave Roman more hope, and he couldn’t help but smile at the man in front of him, who he was sure was his soulmate.

“Oh yes, I’m okay. And, please, no, that was my fault. I was too busy conversing with my soulmates.” Roman smirked as he held his hand up and out towards the other male, making it as easy to see as possible, and prompting him to look at his hand closely. “I’ll assume you were possibly doing the same?” He asked as he saw the other’s expression go from neutral to surprised, and he smiled softly, an expression that had Roman’s heart doing flips in his chest.

“Well it seems you are correct. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Logan. You may have already guessed but I’m dark blue.” He gestured at the pens in his pocket with a smile, and Roman easily returned it.

“I’m Red, or Princey, or whatever other nickname I’ve been given by now,” Roman chuckled softly, and held his hand out towards Logan for a handshake. “My name is Roman, though. It’s a pleasure to meet you too, my dear soulmate.” Roman smiled at him even wider when Logan shook his hand.

“Here,” Logan commented as he took out his pen and started writing on a napkin, handing it to Roman once he had finished. “It’s my number. So we don’t lose contact when we leave.” He smiled at Roman in an almost shy manner.

“Thank you, and that’s smart! For now though, why don’t you grab a table? I’ll clean up this mess and order us some new coffee so we can talk? That is, if you’re free of course.” Roman offered hopefully as he accepted the napkin with Logan’s number on it, putting it safely in his pocket. Logan bit his lip and seemed to think on that for a bit before slowly nodding.

“Yes, I can stay for a bit. I have a class at three, and it is only one thirty, so I can stay until about two? I know thirty minutes isn’t long, I apologize.” Logan explained slowly. Roman only smiled at him brightly.

“No need to apologize! This was honestly a very sudden meeting, so of course you may have other plans! Or well, a class, but same difference. We can plan something better for next time now that we’ll be in contact over text?” Roman offered as he started off to grab a stack of napkins, and also requested a mop or something from an employee.

“Yes, for sure.” Logan smiled at him gently. “I shall look forward to getting to know you better, Roman.” He stated, then waved as he went off to find a table for the two of them. Roman quickly got to trying to soak up the spilt coffee on the floor with the napkins, and was very grateful when someone brought out a mop for him, making the process go much faster. Once he had cleaned up the mess he accidentally made he went back up to the order counter.

“That was quite the situation.” The barista snickered at him good-naturedly. Roman couldn’t help but chuckle back as he scratched the back of his neck nervously. He had made quite the spectacle of himself, admittedly.

“Yeah, not the most elegant or graceful way to meet a soulmate, I admit, but at least I met him.” Roman smiled softly. “I couldn’t be more excited about it, quite honestly. I can’t wait to learn more about him.” Roman said in an almost dreamy tone of voice, allowing his inner hopeless romantic to shine through. He had been waiting for the day he would meet one or all of his soulmates for years, and finally it was here and Roman already thought Logan perfect.

“I’m so happy for you! You should thank the friend that told you to come here. After all, had you not, this never would have happened.” She commented with a gentle smile. “Anyways, I’m assuming you’re trying to replace the drinks? So another mocha frap for you and an iced coffee for him?” She questioned, getting back to business. Roman grinned at her.

“Yep! And yes, I will be sure to thank my friend, for sure.” Roman smiled brightly.

“3.84 is your total, will that be all?” She questioned politely as she finished tapping in the order on her computer. Roman nodded, and handed her another five.

“I know I already said it, but I hope you have a wonderful day and night!” Roman called as he headed down to the pick-up counter. He only had to wait for a few minutes again before being handed both of his drinks, straws already in them. He thanked the employee who handed him the drinks, and quickly made his way over to Logan with an excited grin plastered onto his face.

Sitting down and sliding Logan his drink, Roman couldn’t help the grin that crept back up onto his face, and continued to grow. He couldn’t help it; he was just so happy. Logan tilted his head at Roman inquisitively and Roman practically melted off the chair at the gesture. He was ecstatic that Logan was his soulmate, and that he had finally met him.

“I’m so happy we finally got to meet. I’ve been wanting to meet any of my soulmates for so long and now you’re here, actually in front of me and it’s amazing and kind of surreal.” Roman sighed happily. “I just couldn’t be happier about this right now.” Roman finally said in response to Logan’s earlier questioning glance.

“Oh, well, yes.” Logan smiled and adjusted his glasses. “I, too, have been wanting to see who my soulmates are for quite a while. Though, I am worried about Sky Blue and Purple’s unhealthy habits.” Logan commented with a small frown, and tapped his coffee pointedly.

“Oh, yeah, I feel that one.” Roman raised his coffee towards Logan slightly. “Especially as college students. The lack of sleep of just working on my own projects is bad enough, but then purple never sleeps and it’s a nightmare getting through the day. I mean, I don’t blame him and I’m not upset, just concerned and very tired. Though, I can’t imagine what actually having insomnia must feel like.” Roman shrugged and took a long sip off his drink as Logan considered his words carefully.

“That’s fair. I just hope that when we meet him, perhaps we can help a little? One can hope, at least.” Logan sighed tiredly, and also took a long sip off his coffee. “I agree with you though. Especially about being a college student. Classes are much harder to perform well in when I feel I’m about to pass out from exhaustion half the time, despite keeping a fairly good sleep schedule myself.”

“You said it.” Roman chuckled. “And yes, I do hope that when we meet them, we’ll be able to help in some way. Even if it’s a small way.” Roman sighed softly and frowned in thought, staring down at his hand but without really looking. How long would he have to wait before they were all together? Of course, he was beyond excited he had met Logan, but he wanted to have all of his loves in one space and give them all as much affection as he possibly could.

“Oh, look at the time!” Logan exclaimed, checking his phone. “It’s already 2:05, I have to go. Uh, text me later, okay?” He asked hurriedly, and hardly waited for Roman’s quick, enthusiastic nod before he was rushing out the door. Roman shook his head with a small smile.

He didn’t get to talk with Logan long, but Roman knew he was already completely in love.

He couldn’t wait to fall in love with his other soulmates too.

#ts #ts roman #ts virgil #ts logan #ts patton #lamp/calm #polysanders #soulmate AU #soulmates #ink on skin #you feel what your soulmate feels #fluff #like so much fluff #fic #chapter 1 #YW&F

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despairforme · 3 years ago

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" i hope i'm not intruding. i just wanted to bring over these fresh fruits and vegetables i mentioned over our call! " carrying the heavy crate into his kitchen with ease, melody grins, excited to teach him how to make more dishes and put that cookbook to more use! and also to give nnoitra some of the fruits and vegetables she'd grown herself so that he could have some to snack on when he felt like it! " if you're busy or don't feel up to cooking now, i can come back another time! " the little fae knows they've been spending more time together recently, hoping to make up for all that lost time, but she can take a hint when someone just doesn't feel up to anything. " i really do hate to impose. "

Summer was coming to an end, but insisted on going out with a bang. The temperatures were holding steady, as they had for two months now, and Nnoitra had overheard several people moan about how it was a shame that the summer holidays was over. The nice weather didn’t fool him. He knew that soon it would be September, which would end as quickly as ice cubes melting in a glass of room temperature soda. Then it would be October, and it would be Autumn. Still, could be worse. These past few weeks Nnoitra had finally been lifted up and out of his depressive state. Summer always had that effect on him, but this year it had taken longer than usual. He was thankful to have a better mindset and more energy. It was strange to think that a couple of weeks ago, he had been so low he had stopped checking twice before crossing the road. It seemed like a lot of time had passed, and he couldn’t even bring forth those downcast feelings if he tried to. Not that he tried very hard.

It was a nice afternoon, and Nnoitra was home alone. Grimmjow had to work early today, because a shipment of beer arrived at the bar, and someone had to be there to help out. Nnoitra had offered to lend a hand ( literally, since Grimmjow only had one ), but as always he was hesitant to indicate that he suspected his boyfriend would have difficulties performing his job. He never liked treating him as if he was handicapped. Both out of respect and--- Guilt. In any case - he was home, alone. He would’ve gone out, but Melody had called him not too long ago, and the conversation had ended with her saying she’d come over and bring some fruits and vegetables. As if Nnoitra would ever turn down the offer for food. From their talk, Nnoitra had understood that she had grown the fruits and vegetables herself. It made him envious to think that she had a garden large enough for something like that. Space to grow so much food that she could give some away. If he had had a garden, he doubted he would’ve been growing food. He wouldn’t know where to start with that. The thought of having his own lawn though, and maybe a tree.. That was very appealing to him. Then he could lay in the grass as much as he wanted and breathe in that lovely scent. He sighed with a look around the flat. He was standing in the kitchen, from where he had a good view over to the living room, and the large windows that occupied the whole of the outer wall. Yeah, their apartment was nice and all, and he was certainly attached to it, considering all the memories. But maybe, just maybe he’d want to move at some point. He said ‘ he ‘, because he was selfish. He hadn’t talked to Grimmjow about it at all.

A knock on the door, and he went to open. He knew it was Melody, since he had been expecting her. Normally when someone knocked on the door he’d feel uneasy. Rather pathetic, to be nervous, even in his own home. The door was opened, and yeah - it was Melody. She stood there, bright as ever, her small frame more or less hidden by a large crate she was carrying. It looked heavy. Nnoitra was more interested in seeing what kind of fruit and vegetables it contained, instead of offering to help her carry it. He automatically stepped to the side, letting her into the apartment. The two of them walked into the kitchen, and she put the crate down. Nnoitra inspected it eagerly, already picking helping himself to an apple. He took a bite. It was sweet, but a little sour too. Grimmjow might enjoy that, he thought.

❝ ‘Daz ‘a lot’a food. ❞ He commented with his mouth full, briefly taking his eye off the crate to look at her. As usual, she had that kind radiance about her. Her features soft and caring, even in his presence. Melody was unconditionally kind to him, and he wondered if she knew how much he appreciated it. Probably not.

She repeated the offer she had made over the phone, that they should cook together. Even now she was being considerate. Nnoitra wondered if the ‘ if you don’t feel up to cooking now ‘ was a reference to how he had been feeling up until recently. While he hadn’t said anything about being depressed as fuck, she had clearly picked up on his shitty mood. He thought he looked better now, but that might just be his imagination, brought on by the fact that he was feeling better. He shook his head. ❝ Nah, nah, yer all good. Let’s do this shit. ❞ He opened one of the overhead cupboards, almost too high up for her to reach, and pulled out the cookbook she had given him. The front page had a stain of tomato sauce. He rubbed at it with his finger, but without success. The finger was brought to his mouth. Mh. Tasty. The book was placed down on the counter.

❝ What are we cookin’? Some vegetarian? ❞ He gestured to the crate, a hint of a grin showing itself on his thin lips. A loud meow interrupted whatever it was Melody was going to reply, and Tulip, Grimmjow’s white Persian cat jumped up on the counter, smelling the book in a hopeful manner. ❝ Oi! ❞ Nnoitra poked her to get her to jump down again. ❝ Ya stay away, yeah? If I spill somethin’ on yer white fur I’m fuckin’ dead. ❞ Nnoitra was not concerned about Melody noticing that there were two cats living in his apartment ( which, for all that she knew, he lived in alone ). Him and Grimmjow had a similar shoe size ( Grimmjow’s feet were rather large, while Nnoitra’s very small ), so the extra two sets of shoes at the door could be assumed to be his. If she asked about the cats, he would simply say that he was looking after them for a friend. Which wouldn’t be... A complete lie.

#flcwerborne #[ thank you so much for the ask frankie!! ]#[ i love their interactions as you know t-t ]#[ they're such good friends ]#[ time for melody to meet the cats too!! ]#[ this was the first thing i wrote for WEEKS so it was super nice to get back into writing ]#despair for me. ╱ in character.#talking shit. ╱ answers.#burn the city. ╱ main verse.

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