#oops turned out i have more repressed frustration that i thought!

[ziskandra]

11 and 22 if you're choosing violence? 😈

11. number of fandom-related words you've filtered Answer here! but tl;dr: about 30 or so 22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores Chantry history!! CHANTRY HISTORY!!! While the pre-Chantry era (e.g. the Magisters Sidereal, Andraste) frequently comes up both in-game and during fandom discussions, outside of the Exalted March on the Dales, I rarely encounter much talk around the early centuries of the Chantry as an establishment, and how it solidified its political power. I think this in turn leads to a lot of my major bugbears with Dragon Age fandom, such as: 1. reducing the conflict in thedas as purely a mage vs. templars issue: we now have clear evidence that there's much more happening! the qunari are advancing south! of course, the templars (and mages) were a HUGE part of southern thedas's defenses! while corypheus might have failed in his goals, the entire south is still in. shambles, which leaves them vulnerable to further incursions.

2. speaking of incursions. the qunari. i feel like people sometimes forget that the qunari wars were relatively recent (the llomerryn accords were only signed in 7:84 storm! ~150 years before current events!), and prior to that, they had amassed so much territory across tevinter, rivain, antiva and the free marches that the imperial chantry and the southern chantry had to team up (unprecedented!) to force them back. anyway we know the qunari are coming back and they are NOT fucking around. i just. haven't seen this discussed much lately? (although please, someone, anyone, if i am missing a conversation somewhere PLEASE let me know. i wish to devour it whole with my eyeballs). also the codices in the history of kirkwall series mention how instrumental the chantry's mages were in combating the sarebaas during the qunari wars, which is only more incentive for the Chantry to keep a tight hold on the mage population (of the ones who are useful enough to fight wars or otherwise contribute to the cause, that is...) 3. basically, i'm just fed up with how huge chunks of the fandom criticise the worldbuilding and writing, especially when it comes to the interplay of political power. of course, there are groups that are more complicit in various atrocities than others! but without examining the reasons behind these issues, it's not actually possible to develop viable long-term solutions to these problems. without a thorough understanding of why something came to be the way it was, the oppressed can so easily become oppressors bc. well. power corrupts!! and if one looks at dragon age through a lens of it being a story about geopolitical and the corrupting properties of power, it feels like to me it's very obvious what story the team is trying to tell? don't get me wrong, of course there are always critiques to be made of how bioware is telling that story. i can understand that there are times where the team fumbles the ball or addresses something clumsily, and i think there are a lot of valuable conversations to be have on these matters! but it often feels like people are more invested in discussing the game they wished dragon age was rather than the game that actually exists. so often posts that gain traction these days are like 'this is how i would totally revamp character x/event y', and while i think that can be a useful exercise too, it just feels overpowering at times? that like, there's this sense that everyone agrees that the same things are wrong and must be fixed, which is. frustrating. because again, we are all different people with different experiences! we connect with parts of the narrative, different parts of characters! we are all complicit in our personal biases!! and i feel like there would just be. a lot less defensiveness and hard feelings if people allowed each other more space for alternate perspectives on the games. my own takeaway is this: personally, i think that dragon age, at its core, is a cautionary tale against hubris, and more specifically, the hubris of any one individual or group thinking they know what's best for everyone. of how, as people, we're more powerful when we're able to put our minor differences aside to tackle the bigger problems. of how everyone is coming from their own experiences and backgrounds and how that impacts their behaviour in the present and future. of how some narratives can be more dominant than others. of how history is never 100% certain. and in light of this, and the state of dragon age fandom as a whole, i have chosen to view the fandom as an elaborate piece of community performance art (of which i am also a part). this in turn makes the whole endeavour less frustrating, and dare i say it... sometimes even fun.

[choose violence ask meme]

[mjanelupinblack]

starving creatures | chapter one 🖤

pairing: xu minghao x reader // jun x reader (mainly lol)

description: starving creatures have arrived at your homeland in forks. little do you know, they not only intend to drain the blood out of you... they'll also to break your heart in two.

genres: slowburn (please bare with me), fluff, angst, vampire!au

warnings: blood drinking, lot of blood related themes, repressed emotions, family issues, miscommunication, kinda toxic friendship with cheol? blood and smut will be mixed. emotionally and physically starved vampires oops. did i mentioned blood?

minors dni!!!

fic playlist 🖤

w/c: 3.2k

a/n: like i said, slowburn as f*ck. you'll have to wait to have fun with jun and hao but it'll be worth it if you bare with me. also i am having so much fun writing this omg ^_^ english isn't my first language and i don't have beta readers so kind feedback is welcome <3

CHAPTER 1

Joshua Hong had been the first for many things in his life: the firstborn, the first brother to complete his education, the first student among his classmates to perform a solo surgery, and one of the first doctors to try chloroform for his medical procedures, as anesthesia wasn't nearly as developed as it is now.

He was also the first one to be turned.

No other outcome could have been expected. People like him - young, enthusiastic, seemingly blessed by the gods - had to have some divine punishment waiting for them. Josh's penance would be to live forever with his luck... and to have it slowly fade into misfortune.

As a doctor, he never thought life could be eternal. He had witnessed all types of miracles at Paris Salpêtrière, but no soul had ever gotten to escape the sweet lullabies of death. At first, he felt terrible about it. Doctor Pierre had told him to get used to it, as God only gives special treatment to his friends. Little did he know, Pierre was a close friend of Him. He didn't notice it until he found himself digging a blade into his tutor's jugular vein.

No pulse could be found, but Pierre's breaths were still steady.

"Let's go, Josh! Everything's packed!" Vernon shouted as he got into the driver's seat.

"Do we really have to go through this again?" Jun complained, as if it would change anything. For the last time, he stared at the California house that had been their home for the past ten years.

He always got too attached.

"C'mon, man, you know it's better this way," Vernon replied.

From the passenger seat, Joshua looked at them. Minghao rubbed his brother's back and gently pushed him into the car despite his deep and frustrated sighs. This might be the worst part. But upon reflection, the worst part might also involve the one where locals started noticing their lack of aging, leading him to search for a new town.

"Jun, you can't be mad..." Vernon tried.

"Hum, yes, I can be mad," Jun countered. "And I can't believe you all think it's possible to move from California to this nowhere town."

"This 'nowhere town' is called Forks, alright? And it's your new home, so you better get used to it."

Nowhere Town. That's a good name, as it reflected all the peace Joshua had been praying for since Junhui and Minghao joined his and Vernon's odd nomadic, supernatural-like lifestyle.

"It's always cloudy there. You'll get to hang out more often with your friends."

"Sorry, what friends?" Jun asked sarcastically.

"You'll make friends eventually, Jun. Stop whining," Minghao said.

You didn't believe Forks was the best town in the world either. The landscape, always covered by mist and the ground sticky wet from the most recent storm, looked exactly as it did when you were born. You finished cleaning the house an hour before the awaited arrival. The large windows were all cleaned, not a single stain preventing passersby from catching a glimpse inside.

The house was empty for now, as it had been since the heartbreaking death of the previous inhabitants. You sat by the porch, trying to catch your breath and wondering what the new family looked like. Were they old? Were they nice? Certainly, they wouldn't want anyone to disturb them, otherwise, they would have chosen to live closer to the town center.

Surrounded by trees and animals, your aunt's house was known for attracting people who appreciated solitude.

That's the first thing you learned about Minghao.

There is a van approaching from a distance. The new renters arrived half an hour earlier than you planned. You stand up quickly, shaking the dirt off your pants when, for the first time, you see his face.

You won’t be able to forget that face.

"Y/N, right? We talked on the phone yesterday," one of the guys says. There are four of them now. By his introduction, you supposed you are talking to Mr. Chwe.

"Yes! It's so nice to meet you all, Mr. Chwe."

You shake his hand, surprised to find Mr. Chwe, a doctor, looks more like a student who just pulled an all-nighter.

He also has the temperature of an old man.

"Just Vernon, please," he said.

You had a speech planned, but right now you're having trouble remembering what you were going to say. There's a man behind Vernon who looks at you with tender and compassionate eyes. You assume he's Joshua, the one who responded to your emails.

"I'm so sorry my aunt couldn't make it today. As I told you, she's been sick. It would be difficult for her to climb all the way up here. I'll give you the tour, if you're comfortable with it."

Vernon shows his understanding. The same goes for Joshua, who breaks into a sincere smile and thanks you for being so attentive. It's almost as if they're acting like parents. And then, there are the kids...

"Actually, I'm tired. I'm sure we can figure out the house ourselves."

"I could really use some sleep."

"We've stayed in bigger houses anyway."

"Jun, Hao... Enough of that."

Jun and Hao; you're not sure which one takes your breath away more. With their silky, white, shoulder-length hair, they stand in the woods like fairies in a fairytale.

But you imagined fairies to be... more polite, perhaps.

"It's okay. It must have been a long ride for them. I'll leave you to rest." You tranquillize Mr. Chwe with a smile, but think, Morons, in your head.

Almost as if he heard what you said, Jun's face contorts in a gesture that appears both surprised and offended.

"Do you all see that little house right there?" you ask, pointing down into the distance past the trees. "That's where I live. Just call me if you need anything. We're the only neighbors you have around, besides the Boo Family. Oh, and I almost forgot. They asked me to leave you a present since they won't be able to come and say hello today. I left it inside."

"A present?" Minghao asks, his forehead furrowed and a fucked up temper. It's as if you'd just left a bomb or something in their kitchen.

You feel small under his gaze.

"Yes... it's just a beautiful mirror."

•••

Vernon was the second one to get turned.

He graduated from uni, having already killed a man. He tasted his blood, vomited to stop feeling sick, but then got the imperious need to drink from him again.

“Who the hell is this Boo Family?” Jun asks once they get to the house. The mirror is still covered in the living room. There’s no use in unwrapping it as they can’t use it anyways.

“Some old friends.” Vernon answers, face paler than usual.

He made a vow to never to steal a life again. No matter how hungry he was, no matter how weak he could get, he had a strong set of values he planned to spend the rest of his non-desired eternity with, even if people told him it wasn’t the natural thing to do.

“Explain yourself.”

“No explanation needed… Just go to your room, Jun.”

“Are you grounding me or something? I thought we were over with all this weird family shit.”

“I could be your grandfather, how is that weird to…”

“Boo Seungkwan is the man who brought Vernon into this life, okay?” Joshua explains.

Josh had been his mentor. Studying hard for his degree, Vernon was only seven years younger than him and had a mind full of dreams. One of them was to become a doctor as brilliant as Joshua, which, after a lot of sacrifice, he did. But he never thought his desire to be like Joshua would put him into a world so dark and twisted. When he said he wanted to be like Joshua, he never imagined… this.

“There’s your answer.” Vernon says.

He wouldn’t have endured sane this long without Joshua as a friend.

“Don’t worry, mate, we are leaving this place.”

The house is big. Of course, they lived in much larger houses than your auntie’s, as Jun said. But this house… There is wood covering the walls and enormous trees blocking the sunlight from the windows.

Vernon asks himself, is it always going to be like this?

Will Josh and he finally be able to take daytime shifts? Will they be able to walk around town without having to worry about deadly eruptions on their skins?

Sunglasses and long sleeves, then they are ready to go. The offer is tempting.

“There’s no need.”

“What do you mean?” Joshua asks in disbelief.

“I mean… We already paid the girl.”

“And she can keep the money. We’re leaving.”

Jun seems thrilled. What will their new location be? Bahamas? Maybe France? Oh, he loves pain au chocolat! Now it is gonna be great.

“I want to give it a try, Josh,” Vernon says, much to Jun’s disgrace. “Yejin is dead. And there’s no other reason for the Boo family to attack me again.”

“Yejin? Like your ex-friend Yejin?” Minghao asks.

“More like the maniac, out-of-her-mind-obsessed-with-Vernon, Yejin.” Joshua corrects.

“How did you know about her, Hao?”

“I might have stumbled upon your diaries once. But then we moved, and I don’t know where you hide them anymore. So I’m kinda stuck in the middle of the tale.

“Well, well, well… Looks like we know very little of each other to be part of the same family, Mr. Chew. Or should I call you Doctor?”

Jun disappears from the room, not caring for Joshua, who wants to say something to him. Even if he couldn’t move at this dazzling speed, he would’ve been able to escape the situation with equal grace.

That’s the way he is.

“Welcome to Forks, then.”

•••

“So… the new renters are a piece of shit.” your friend Cheol says. It's nice to catch up after a whole summer apart, not seeing or hearing anything from him.

Your ankles ache from the cold wind that bites as you walk the last stretch to school.

“That’s not what I said,” you explain. “The doctors were very nice to me. But the young ones… This guy Jun was in a terrible mood and treated everyone like shit. The other brother was…”

Threatening? But gut-wrenchingly beautiful? Eyes so deep like sinking ships after crashing with an iceberg?

“…a bit serious, I don’t know. When the doctors asked me if there was a highschool nearby, I thought I'd get to make some friends.”

“Are you saying I’m not enough of a friend?”

Okay, that was a low blow and you need to respond to it.

“The whole summer you went missing. So yes, at some point your friendship felt short for me.”

Many years of friendship taught you that you can open up with Cheol whenever you feel sad or lonely. You arrive at school and identify some of the friends he spent the whole summer with. A sight escapes your mouth. You love the guys, but you kinda wish your alone time with Cheol would have lasted longer.

And he notices.

“We can hang out later. Just you and me,” he promises, grabbing both of your hands. “We can sneak and spy on this jackasses’ house. Then you’ll watch them nose-picking and realize they’re not that big of a deal.”

“Voyeurism? That 's the date?”

Cheol pinches your nose in between his fingers and smiles playfully. Same old smile. Same old gesture that makes you feel safe. Even after a whole summer of not knowing what the hell is going on in his head.

“I know you. Don’t act like you don’t like to get into other people’s lives.”

Touché. You admit there’s a certain rush of adrenaline growing in your veins whenever you think about getting into your new renters’ intimacy. There's a certain power that comes with knowing about other people's secrets. Even when you don’t plan to use any of those against them.

“I’ll think about it.”

“I take it as a yes.”

“Take it as a maybe I'd rather go grab some coffee and not do such creepy things!”

You hit your friend in the arm playfully. When they see you coming, the gang welcomes you with a hug and some cheering. Hoshi tells you about how your best friend drank his blood’s weight in beer and none of the parties were near as entertaining as when you are there to join them.

You don’t believe him. You know he’s only saying this to make you feel better. But you have nothing against white lies when they serve their purpose.

“Maybe invite me next time?” you say, knowing that you are asking for the impossible.

Soonyoung looks at Dino, who answers without saying a word. Cheol pulls you closer to him. Silent and almost surrounding you with his arms.

“I really don’t think you’d like it,” Soonyoung says. “Plus you’ve been busy training, from what I heard.”

Of course. Training. You are not sure what Soonyoung must have heard about it, or who he must have heard it from. But this summer, you have been leaving your house at five in the morning everyday with the intention of running your sacred five miles before seven a.m—or whatever number of miles you could do before starting to feel like you’re about to pass out. It has been awesome; wind whipping your skin and not a single thought crossing your head. Just a pleasant sensation of hurt that would leave your legs shaking and your mind blank.

After that, you’d return home just in time to give your auntie her meds.

And then you’d like to run away again.

“Are you getting into a competition or something?” Dino asks.

“Nah. I was just doing it to clear my mind. But who knows… I’m fast.”

“Maybe I could help your train then”

Around the corners, or maybe even a couple of blocks away, there’s a soul with the extramundane ability of hearing your thoughts and sayings with just the gaze of your silhouette.

“Hum… who the hell are you?” Seungcheol asks him.

He wasn't there just minutes ago. You must have been too lost in your own thoughts as the sight of your neighbor makes your heart skip a beat.

Maybe he wants you to introduce him?

“Guys, this is Jun. My auntie rented the house to his family, so he and his brother are new here.”

“Great way to introduce yourself, mate. You’re an asshole, from what I heard?”

You step over your friend’s foot, hoping to subtly silent him. Damn, Seungcheol has a big mouth.

“Actually, I’m here to apologize,” Jun says, much to your surprise. And then he looks at you like no one else is there. “My manners weren’t the best. We had a long trip from California so I’m sure you’ll understand.”

“California? You’re a ghost, man.”

Ignoring Soonyoung’s comment, your neighbor continues trying to apologize.

“I just wanted to let you know that whatever neighborly thing you need, you can count on my family and me.”

Just by the way they’re silent, analyzing every bit of him but actually finding nothing, you can tell that the guys already hate Jun without even knowing him.

And for that, you feel relieved.

“Thank you, Jun. I really appreciate it.”

“My pleasure.”

•••

You live in a place so different than Mr. Chwe and Mr Hong’s new house. It only has a few rooms; none of them fancy and only spacious enough for you to sleep and change in there. The little wooden cabin remains hidden in between the trees, all of them prominent enough to prevent your house from being in plain sight. Rain has to make an effort to fall in between thick leaves. And if it wasn’t because of the oscillating movement of your auntie’s chair, Joshua would´t have found it.

He has always been a good neighbor. It’s a signature part of the made up story he tells about himself every time his life changes. So there he is, standing on the porch of your house with a basket of freshly baked cookies in hand. He expects to find you there and maybe ask you a couple of questions about the Boo family and your relationship with them.

“You didn’t have to” you say, receiving the basket in your hands with guilt wrinkling your eyebrows. “Really. I feel terrible. I don’t have anything to give you in return.”

“You’ve given more than enough. This is just a thank you. To you and your aunt.”

Some persistent raindrops have started to pierce through the trees.

“Come in, I insist” you say, opening the door fully even though it’s kinda messy inside. You haven’t found the time to clean up and embarrassment shows in the crimson red of your plumpy cheeks. “You won’t make it to the lodge before the rain. And I was about to make some coffee to warm up anyways.”

Joshua knows perfectly that he will be able to reach the lodge even before the next drop of rain. Despite that, he decides to enter your house and take a seat at your table, waiting for the cloudburst to stop, like any normal person. In front of him, there’s a cup of coffee. He asked for it without sugar or milk because he wouldn’t be able to enjoy those flavors if you put them in there anyways. Of course, the story he tells is different. It’s easier to explain he’s grown accustomed to preparing his coffee bitter in the rush of his night guards.

“So, California…”

Your friend Hoshi’s observation over Jun had been rude but sharp. California’s sun had rejected Joshua’s family in an inexplicable way.

“Yes, we stayed there for a short time,” he answers. For him, that is not a lie. Ten years really is a short time. “We have a condition. It makes us sensitive to the sun. So long term wasn’t an option.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry for that...”

“It's okay. We just have to be careful. Forks seems like the perfect place for that.”

“Trust me. Forks can give you a lot of trouble but sunny days won’t be one.”

Joshua takes a sip of his coffee. It doesn’t taste like anything, but it’s reassuring to see you enjoy the cookies he baked but can’t taste.

“A lot of trouble?” He asks, eyes full of curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”

Coming from California and —from what Vernon told you— previously New York, you imagine your neighbor has no idea of the consequences of living in a place like Forks.

“Well, a small town can be a vast hell if you don’t keep things to yourself,” you explain. “Forks is amazing. But there’s only a few habitants and they all get bored easily, so rumors fly.”

Joshua’s well aware of how deadly rumors can be. Especially when truth revolves around them.

“Do you have secrets to entertain us with, Mr. Hong?” you mock him, feeling a little more comfortable around your neighbor who’s not only a kind person but also a great baker.

His eyes get all wrinkly when he smiles.

“I’m afraid we’re gonna bore you all,” he answers “And please don’t call me Mr. Hong.”

“Fair enough.” You say, while cleaning leftover cookies from the corner of your mouth.

“What about you, do you have secrets?”

You laugh at the question. Maybe it’s because you know the answer damn well.

“Of course. We all do.”

masterlist | next chapter

[cabinofimagines]

Here

GenderNeutral!Reader x Percy

Summary: Percy survived Tartarus but his dreams make it feel as if he’s still there. The reader has taken it upon themselves to act as an anchor or sorts, keeping Percy grounded until the PTSD lessens.

A/N: Yknow it took me a few hours to write this bc I was so damn distracted. Anyway here’s this and I’m sorry but towards the ending I uhhhh lost sight of the plot. Oops? -Day

___________

It’d been more than a week since his last nightmare; a new record. At first, he refused to sleep in fear that he would have to relive the experience over again in his dreams. Of course, he couldn’t stay awake forever and after 4 days of fighting exhaustion, he was back.

 He could taste the acid air with every staggering breath he took, the wave of sadness from the river Cocytus held on tightly, digging up feelings and memories he had repressed. He stood on the shattered glass on the shore, his shoulders heaving as panic settled in. He glanced around to find his support in all of this but saw nothing more than the angry red clouds and the neverending grey landscape.

“Annabeth?” He cried out, his voice cracking, “Annabeth!?”

His head whipped around, trying to catch a glimpse of her blonde hair fluttering somewhere nearby, but nothing. He heard screams echo in the distance but wasn’t sure who or what was crying out, but he was sure that his yelling had just alerted them. 

Tears of frustration pricked at his eyes, he was alone down here. 

“Percy!”

The shouts grew closer and closer, his feet moving towards the sound. If it was a trap then he’d deal with it, but for now, he just didn’t wanna be alone.

“Percy, Percy wake up!” He heard in his ear faintly, his body trembling as if he was being shaken. He clutched his head in pain, the shouting louder than ever now, “Percy!”

His eyes snapped open into darkness, sweat beading on his forehead, and the sheets twisted around his body from where he tossed and turned. His chest heaved rapidly and his heart pounded against his chest like it was attempting to break free from his body.

He felt cold hands slide across his shoulders and to his face, forcing him to look at whoever woke him from his nightmare. It took him a moment to take them in, for his eyes to stop darting around the room and finally settle on those comforting (e/c) eyes. He should’ve known they’d swing by, even if it was just a check-in, Y/n always made a point to stop by a few times each night since he’s gotten back. 

Percy had never actually thanked them for everything they’d done for him. From making sure he was eating to keeping him occupied so his thoughts didn’t wander, they’d been the best from the day the Argo II landed in camp. 

He let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, tears filling his eyes in relief that it was only a dream. He watched as you wiped a stray tear from his cheek, your other hand pushing his messy, sweaty locks from his forehead. You looked sad, almost as if it physically hurt you to see Percy so afraid of his own memories. 

Percy watched as your eyes twinkled in the dim moonlight from the windows. They were mesmerizing, like two pools of (e/c) with various shades freckled through them like stars,  distracting him into a calm without much effort.

His head slumped into the crook of your neck, arms winding around your middle as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded. It wasn’t uncommon for this to happen anymore, but each time still broke you just as much as the first.

He sniffled and drew you closer, forcing you to fall onto the bed with him. Your position stayed the same, though it was a little more awkward as you sat on his lap with your left leg bent at an uncomfortable angle. You said nothing and held him close, smoothing his hair down and humming a song quietly.

“Are you really humming All-Star right now?” He chuckled lowly, pulling back to give you a small smile. 

You smiled shyly, “Maybe?” 

As if he sensed your leg falling asleep in this position, he twisted around so that you lay side by side, noses brushing against one another. He struggled to detangle the sheets from around his legs, but eventually, he managed to tug them over the two of you. You lay in silence, letting him trace his fingers along your body, trying your hardest not to giggle when his touches became ticklish.

He paused and closed his eyes briefly, “I’m sorry” It was so quiet you nearly missed it, “I’m so so sorry, and if I could stop it, believe me, I would.”

Your heart ached, why he would ever apologize for something he has no control over? You pulled yourself against him, cradling him in your arms.

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault in the least bit,” your voice held a gentle authority which made him hide his face once again, “I’ll be here as long as you want me to be.”

“I’ll always want you here.”

Nothing else was said and after a few more lingering touches, you two were out like a light. Percy woke up a few times during the night, but this time you were right there holding him tight.

[ravenhilarious]

My thoughts on the “Roman was Janus in ‘Moving On’” theory

I really like the theory that roman was briefly possessed by janus in Moving On, but now I have found something that furthers that (forgive me if others have pointed this out already)

(little warning: there’s some angst)

this was the moment that lying was first brought up, which could mean that janus was somehow summoned in this exact moment

and right after, roman started talking about “bluffing”

“keep your lips locked” 

wait who is it that can “lock” the others’ lips? oh right!

Thomas seems rather tense this moment, doesn’t he? Yes I know that the room and the whole situation affected him, but it still seems rather weird to snap at a comment about his hips of all things, which makes me theorize that he gets upset at the dark sides’ presence even if he doesn’t know they’re there – as in the fact that Janus was there made him snap (unbeknownst to Thomas self)

Maybe Patton suspected Roman to be Deceit as well, so he made sure to let him know that he didn’t approve of lying, and, in addition, of Janus himself, if that was the case.

Okay this line itself is obvious foreshadowing, and that line did plant theories about “the lying side” back in the day (which turned out to be correct). But if Roman really is Janus right now, even if Thomas doesn’t know, he just said directly to his face: “I don’t like you as a side.” 

ouch

If Roman was, in fact, Janus, then it’s no wonder that he starts snapping right now! 

Cue a long rant about “this is what you really want Thomas and we both know it”, and if you listen closely, his tone is very similar to the way Janus sounded both in his “piñata” speech and when he impersonated Logan in POF (don’t remember the exact moments, but there were some lines of his that were said in a not-very-logan way). 

And then this:

First of all, look at that face! And he is pointing at Thomas similarly to how Janus does sometimes when he wants to make a point or something.

Now, let’s analyze this!

Let’s see, a long rant about what Thomas really want, and about Thomas trying to deny his wants in order to seem like a better person? Morally, he knows that the right thing to do is to move on, to leave his ex boyfriend alone. But his selfish desire real wish is to call him and to try and get him back.

He looks so smug right here. He thinks that Thomas has just admitted that he is not perfectly selfless and that he was lying to himself. Similar to Janus’ reaction when Thomas admitted to want to go to the callback, right?

(cue Thomas explaining why he doesn’t really want that)

He looks confused here, a little angry.

It took me so long to capture this exact moment, but he’s rolling his eyes here. Why would Roman roll his eyes at such a serious topic?

Here, too, he looks a little... off. And the fact that he needs to clarify his role? Does that sound like Janus “I’m Morality I Gotta Know My Stuff” Sanders? Janus “I The Brilliant Logan” Sanders? 

He literally says “I’m The Dreamy Fantasy Guy”! “Uh, guys, remember who I am supposed to impersonate, I mean, remember who I definitely am?”

(cue Thomas explaining more how he doesn’t want him back yada yada)

Here, Roman is slowly snapping out. Why here? I don’t have an answer to that. Maybe Janus realized he was about to lose, and so he left.

Here, Roman both looks and sounds very similar to when he in Can Lying Be Good said that “I feel so used!” thing, and his moments of frustration in both SvS and POF. Yeah, maybe it’s just his “mental breakdown” face, but he seems to mostly use it when Janus is present/is toying with him.

(cue Roman apologizing since he’s now himself again)

Okay, maybe this was just Patton being nice, but like I said before, maybe he knew about Janus’ influence, and he was trying to say to Roman something like “I know you were possessed and that’s not your fault” without revealing Janus’ existence to Thomas?

(skip a little)

He’s now trying to reassure that he would not let his dreams stop Thomas from being Thomas Cinnamon Roll Sanders.

now look how that turned out later on oop

He is trying to prove that although Janus would’ve wanted to jump at the first chance to fulfill Thomas’ wants, Roman wouldn’t.

Now, here’s where it gets interesting, as this also seems like something That Janus would want.

And Patton agrees.

But this post is already long and my parents want me to leave my cave to spend some time with them, so that’s for another day.

Although I want to show you this:

Patton talks a bit about repressing negative feelings, and then Thomas talks about mental health. Hmm?

You mean like selfish desires and intrusive thoughts are normal and shouldn’t be repressed? HMMMMMM?

I love this episode a lot.

You guys can feel free to add on if you want!

[primatechnosynthpop]

Ok so the idea is in my mind now thanks to what my classmates were posting about on the myinfo discussion boards earlier, and I know that nobody here cares about this, but I need to gather my thoughts here. So here's an outline for what I think would happen in a Da Vinci Code/ Black Echo crossover

It starts with Langdon being involved in a high-profile documentary about the grail and the priory that's being filmed in Hollywood. Then a bunch of people involved in the documentary start being murdered, and Bosch is assigned to the case

They meet at the crime scene for one of the murders; Langdon is shaken up because the people working on the documentary with him were people he'd worked with before and gotten along with, and he's trying not to show how shaken he is and play himself off as cool, but Bosch sees right through him and recognizes his distraught emotional state. He's sympathetic, but he does have a job to do here... it's time to ask this guy some questions

HB: Professor Langdon, right? I'm officer Bosch. I have a few questions for you.

RL: Bosch... that's an interesting name

HB: Like the painter, yes. You wouldn't be the first to point it out, believe me.

RL: I've done many lectures on the religious symbolism in that man's paintings. Tell me, officer, how familiar with his work are you?

HB: Not very. Now, Mr. Langdon--

RL: You can call me Robert if you want.

HB: ...Mr. Langdon, what kind of relationship did you have with the victim?

...You get the picture; they don't get along very well at first. Bosch thinks Langdon is too self-obsessed and show-offy, while Langdon thinks Bosch is too grim and doesn't approve of his smoking habit

But since Bosch is a devoted and hardworking detective, he puts aside his mild annoyance with Langdon and does his best to solve the case. Problem is, Langdon clearly knows something about the case that he's refusing to tell anyone. *sonic voice* That's no good!

Bosch confronts Langdon about this in private, very angry... maybe cue a wall slam except that Bosch is shorter than Langdon so it does maybe look just a little bit silly. But more importantly a little bit homoerotic in an angry and repressed kinda way

After a bit of arguing and a very thorough check of the room they're in to make sure nobody is watching or listening in, Langdon confides to Bosch about the Grail and his experiences with it

Bosch is skeptical, but he's no stranger to tangled webs of dark secrets, so his reaction to all this is less "wow!!" and more "shit. Really? Fuck. Okay... huh. I need a drink." So Langdon pours him a drink, they agree to team up to collaborate on solving the case, and this is bonding moment #1 in which their barriers start to crack just a little bit

But of course Bosch, a decent guy at heart who cares about people's lives, isn't gonna let some random symbologist get too wrapped up in what's clearly a dangerous case. So after he and Langdon figure out together where the killer might be hiding out, Bosch goes to the location alone--armed and ready, but alone nonetheless

It goes bad!

Meanwhile, Langdon figures out by talking to some of the other cops where Bosch has taken off to. He gets there just in time to see the cloud of dust as the killer gets away, leaving a badly injured Bosch lying on the ground. Probably in some dark alleyway or dingy apartment or something idk. Very dark and very dramatic

Shifting in and out of consciousness in the backseat as Langdon drives him to a hospital, Bosch starts having a PTSD flashback nightmare. There's nothing Langdon can really do to help him out there, and he feels bad about it

Flash forward a couple days. We get bonding moment #2 as Langdon scolds a recovering Bosch for being so reckless

RL: I mean, you could have been killed!

HB: That's part of my job. Always has been.

RL: But still--

HB: I'm not like you, remember? You may have gotten involved in some dangerous situations before, but at the end of the day, you're still a civilian. It's my job to protect you.

RL: How would you dying help us get to the bottom of this case? If you want to help me, then stay alive and work with me.

HB: Fine. So, did you just come here to yell at me?

RL: Actually, that's not the only reason. I figured something out about the case... something that I think can help us

(This probably wouldn't be the exact dialogue but you get the gist)

Also Langdon sees Bosch's tattoo and if he asks about it then Bosch definitely does not answer. But when he gets home Langdon researches rat imagery and symbolism and eventually figures out, if not the connection to the war, at least that this dude has probably been through some tough times

They also each individually make the realization that Bosch having a rat tattoo + Langdon having a mickey mouse wristwatch is kind of an interesting coincidence... but when Langdon brings it up Bosch gets kinda snappy with him because, believe me, it's really not even remotely close to the same thing

So they get back to work on the case, but as soon as Bosch is back on his feet he retreats back into his shell, which disheartens Langdon somewhat for reasons that he can't pinpoint. (Hint: it's that Langdon was beginning to recognize the soft heart buried beneath Bosch's rough exterior, and guess that he must have had a pretty rough life, and on some subconscious level he was beginning to drift toward the "I can fix him!" mentality)

Still, they've got a job to do. They spend a few days, maybe a week tracking down the killer, during which we get a couple more small bonding moments during which Bosch demonstrates his kind and caring side, and Langdon starts spending maybe a little longer than necessary staring at him when he's not looking. Bosch wonders when he stopped finding Langdon's tendency for sharing information annoying and started to like the sound of his voice. But neither of them are at a stage where they're gonna be like "so basically I have ptsd and claustrophobia because of my traumatic backstory" or anything

At some point, though (maybe when he's slightly drunk) Bosch makes a gruff remark in passing about having been betrayed before, and Langdon replies that he's been betrayed too, by a close friend. They kind of raise their eyebrows at each other, an unspoken realization that they're connected by more bonds than expected, and they clink their glasses together

So the killer's hideout involves crawling through a small enclosed space and they both know this in advance and the plan they come up with is "one of us goes in while the other waits outside and stands guard" (the way the killer's lair is set up would make this a good plan. I'm not gonna come up with all the details right now, because if I could do that, then I'd become a mystery novelist) but they haven't laid out who'll be going in the small enclosed space and they're both secretly counting on the other doing it

Then they get there and it's like. Hmm. Oops! Neither of them want to go in because they both have the same psychological issues

An argument ensues, but they're less trying to convince each other to go in the small enclosed space and more frustrated at the other for keeping secrets. Eventually Langdon agrees to be the one to go in because by now he's pieced together that Bosch is a vet and that his trauma is therefore probably a lot "worse" (not that those things are really quantifiable)

Bosch is super grateful but also feels terrible, like it's his fault for being too weak, and promises Langdon to make it up for him later--"So be sure to stay alive for me, okay, Robert?"

RL: Wait, did you just call me by my first name? I think that's the first time I've heard you say it.

HB: Hey, what can I say? You've grown on me.

RL: Heh. You... you've grown on me, too, Harry.

HB: Robert..... good luck in there.

They sort of smile and nod at each other, solemn and melancholy (and repressed). And then Langdon goes in and does the thing but of course it's some kind of a trap and he gets stuck in the small enclosed space and Bosch hears him getting attacked in there and hey, Bosch can't magically overcome his severe war trauma but in that moment his brain just kinda turns off and he's able to power through it long enough to go in and get Langdon out safely

They're both very shaken from all this but now they've got the killer out in the open so it's time for the final showdown. Working together, they elaborately lure the killer into confessing to the murders of the people working on the Grail documentary... those people knew too much, they couldn't be allowed to keep living. Naturally, Bosch is wearing a wire that's picking all this up and recording it

But then the killer finishes with "and you, the symbologist who knows the true location of the Grail... you can't be allowed to live either!" and before either of them can react he shoots Langdon! This makes Bosch extremely angry and he immediately shoots the killer like five consecutive times in the chest

Turns out Langdon's alive, the bullet just missed his heart or lungs or whatever, and he's lying on the ground in shock from getting shot staring up at Bosch and is like "...you killed him...?"

HB: Oh, right, I almost forgot... you've never killed someone before, have you?

RL: No, although I've been acquainted with more murders than I would like...

HB: Well, here's one more murderer you're acquainted with, then. Come on, let's go

Hospital time redux ft. congratulating each other on solving the case and a whole lot going unsaid between them. They both agree that they ended up making a decent team in the end...

In a quiet moment when he thinks Langdon is asleep, Bosch starts reminiscing out loud about his childhood, his time in the war, all the blood he's seen spilled and spilled himself both as a veteran and a detective. Of course Langdon was actually awake to hear all that, and after a long moment of silence he starts talking quietly about falling down a well as a child, as well as some of the scarier moments in his past adventures and how those have messed him up a little

RL: Of course, what I've been through is nothing compared to you... I mean, you, you're amazing. I can't believe I ever judged you for having a cold exterior.

HB: I wouldn't call myself amazing. More like, a poor bastard doing his best to keep his head afloat.

RL: No, no, that's... that's why you're amazing. The fact that you are where you are now.

HB: What, in a hospital at the bedside of a symbology professor who's lucky to be alive after solving an elaborate murder case?

RL: Hey, it's not my first rodeo.

HB: Mine neither. (Heh...) maybe we should start a club.

At the end they say goodbye to each other and they like shake hands or something but they're still repressed so they just go their separate ways and don't see each other again

But MAYBE a few months or years down the line Bosch eventually leaves the police force (either because he wisens up and realizes that acab, or because he acts up too much and gets fired) and can no longer afford to live in LA so he moves to a different part of the country and by pure coincidence it ends up being where Langdon lives. And he finds out when he sees an ad for one of Langdon's lectures, and he attends and Langdon spots him in the crowd and he sort of visibly stiffens and then softens. You can figure out where things go from there

(I actually don't know where exactly things would go from there but maybe, someday, eventually they kiss?)

[thelazyhermits]

The fifteenth drabble covers prompt #17 - a hug where one muse stops the other from collapsing. This ended up becoming longer than I planned. Oops lol I hope y’all enjoy it! ^-^

Today is not your day. 

Once again, you encounter a villain attack while off campus. This time, instead of a shopping trip, you’re out with the Big Three because you were all planning on visiting Hadou’s favorite tea shop together.

Naturally, those plans go awry when your group stumbles upon a bank robbery in progress. Once they realize what’s going on, the third years all take action. 

The only upside of this situation is the fact that Togata actually chose to wear his hero costume underneath his regular clothes today. After hearing about how often your trips off campus go wrong, the blond decided he should be prepared just in case. As a result, none of the citizens will have to worry about seeing a naked Lemillion today. 

While the Big Three goes after the villains, you do your best to help the citizens evacuate. After a few minutes of this, your Quirk activates, showing you a worrisome vision.

In it, you see a tall, muscular woman with short orange hair around your age, possibly a few years older, attacking you, claiming her time for vengeance has come. At first, you’re confused, but then, some of your repressed memories resurface from the depths of your mind, providing some much needed clarity. 

She was an underground fighter who started her career as a child like you. Her stage name was Drain because her Quirk allowed her to drain the energy of anyone she touched with her hands. 

Drain was actually the top child fighter before you came along. Naturally, that changed after you defeated her. 

Apparently, Drain has held a grudge against you ever since you beat her since she was never able to regain her popularity after that match. She especially hated that you won when she was the more skilled fighter--which she was.

The only reason you were able to defeat her is because your Quirk allowed you to predict her movements and because you had way more stamina than her. No matter how much energy she drained from you, you kept fighting until she was too worn out to continue which, now that you think about, was pretty ironic. 

You were lucky that her Quirk only allows her to drain energy and not reuse it for herself. Otherwise, that fight would’ve ended a whole lot differently. 

Before your vision ends, Drain explains that she’s been watching you for some time now, waiting for the right moment to strike. She knew she wouldn’t be able to accomplish her goal as long as you had heroes protecting you, so she waited for the moment when you finally went somewhere alone. 

As soon as your Quirk deactivates, you take off into a sprint, knowing you have a limited amount of time before the events of your vision happen. In your vision, Drain was willing to attack anyone who got in her way, so you need to find an area free of civilians. 

After all, the last thing you want it for someone to get caught in the crossfire. As you’re running, you quickly pull out your gloves and put them on in preparation for the fight that’s to come.

A few minutes later, just as you run into a nearby, empty parking lot, you hear a familiar voice which makes you come to an abrupt halt. “Not so fast, Prophet! I won’t allow this perfect opportunity to go to waste! I will have my revenge!”

Immediately, you turn toward the owner of the familiar voice and see Drain running toward you. A scowl appears on your face as you activate your Quirk. “Get over it already! That was over ten years ago! I didn’t even want to be in that fight!”

An onslaught of punches and kicks are aimed at you as soon as she’s within reach. Thankfully, you’re able to dodge and block all of them thanks to your Quirk. 

Unfortunately, you’re unable to do anything about the effects of her Quirk. Every time her hands make contact with your skin, you feel some of your energy get drained. 

That’s one of the reasons why you put on the gloves, hoping the material would protect you from her Quirk since she needs skin-on-skin contact for it to work. Unfortunately, despite your best efforts to avoid it, she still manages to make contact with your skin, and to your dismay, you discover that her Quirk has gotten stronger since she was a kid, allowing her to drain even more energy each time her hands make contact with you.

She cackles, “I’m much stronger than I was before! I trained for all those years so I’d be ready for our rematch!”

A large smirk appears on her face. “You thought you could escape by running away from the underworld, but you were wrong. I was determined to get my revenge even if it meant having to hunt you down.”

You sigh as you move to wipe the sweat off your forehead. “A revenge obsessed stalker. Great. My luck can’t get much better than this.”

Now, you’re really regretting the fact that you went out today without restocking your supplies. If you had your sleeping gas bombs, this fight would’ve already been finished by now.

Although, to be honest, you prefer the idea of taking Drain out with your own strength rather than resorting to using sleeping gas. This just feels like a fight you need to resolve with just your fists. 

An annoyed scowl appears on your face immediately after you think that. Oh great. Now, you’re starting to sound like Rappa. You always knew he was a horrible influence.

Drain lunges forward with a yell, and with that, the fight resumes. Minutes fly by as the two of you exchange blow after blow, with your vitality steadily decreasing as time progresses. 

It gets progressively harder to dodge her attacks, resulting in you taking hits you’d normally be able to avoid, and you know your punches are getting weaker with each passing second. 

However, you refuse to back down. No matter how much of your energy she drains, you won’t stop fighting until you emerge as the victor. You will not let her win. 

Noticing this, Drain scowls, “You’re like a damn cockroach! Just surrender already, Prophet! It’s clear who the superior fighter is between us!”

At that moment, your Quirk reveals that the moment you’ve been waiting for has finally come. Because of her mounting frustration, the orange haired woman starts to get careless, resulting in you finally finding an opening which you’ve been looking for since the fight started. 

When she aims another punch at you, putting more force behind it than she should, you parry it which causes her to lose her balance. Before she can regain her footing, you rear your fist back and aim a punch for your opponent’s face, hitting her with enough force to knock her flat on her back. 

Once again, you find yourself mentally thanking Hastume for your gloves. If it weren’t for them, there’s no way you would’ve had enough power behind your punches to cause any damage because you’re so exhausted now. It took everything you had just to swing your fist at her for that last punch. 

Chest heaving from exertion, you deactivate your Quirk and immediately wince when your head begins to throb and the sunlight reaches your now sensitive eyes. You can’t say you’re too surprised about the pain of your headache considering how long you’ve been using your Quirk. You’re just glad you didn’t use it long enough to invoke a seizure.

Squinting, you direct your gaze toward Drain who appears to be unconscious thanks to the combination of your punch and her head hitting the hard concrete. Good. You’re completely spent thanks to her Quirk. If she was still able to fight, you would’ve been in trouble since you’re just barely able to stand right now.

Of course, as soon as you think that, your knees buckle, causing you to plummet toward the ground. As you brace yourself for the fall, you hear familiar voices calling out your name.

“Y/N-sensei!”

“Cryptid-sensei!”

Seconds later, a pair of arms catches you, preventing you from hitting the ground. When you look to see who the arms belong to, you see Togata frowning worriedly. “Sensei, are you alright? You look exhausted!”

Hadou quickly appears at your other side and brings her face close to yours. “What happened, Cryptid-sensei? Did you get in a fight? Was it with that lady over there? Who is she? Do you know her?”

As she peppers you with questions, all you can do is watch the blue haired girl with amused eyes. While this is happening, Amajiki comes to stand beside Togata, who’s still holding you in his arms.

The shorter boy dons a concerned frown when he sees your worn out appearance. “We should find an ambulance and get you checked out. Can you walk?”

You shake your head. “My opponent’s Quirk allows her to drain the energy of whoever she touches, so I’m totally spent. I’m too exhausted to do anything, including walking. You don’t need to get me an ambulance, though. What I really need is a nap.”

Togata grins, “In that case, how about you climb onto my back? I’ll carry you back to school, and we can just have Recovery Girl examine you.”

The corners of your lips curve upwards. “Sounds good to me. I take it the villains from the bank robbery have already been arrested?”

While Amajiki and Hadou help brace you, Togata crouches down in front of you, so you can climb onto his back. As this is happening, he replies, “Yep! We’ll pass the police on the way out and tell them about the lady you fought too. Was she a friend of the robbers?”

A groan passes your lips when you think of Drain. “I wish. She’s actually my revenge obsessed stalker.”

While Amajiki stares at you with wide eyes, Hadou tilts her head. “Was she stalking you for revenge? What did she want revenge for?”

You close your eyes as you rest your forehead against Togata’s back. “I beat her in a fight a while back, and she’s been wanting revenge ever since. Apparently, she’s been looking for me for awhile.”

Since you’ve never explained your past to Hadou, she’s the only one who doesn’t understand the hidden meaning behind your words. Amajiki and Togata, however, quickly realize what kind of situation you were in when you first met Drain. The blond tightens his grip on you in response to your words while a deep frown appears on his best friend’s face.

Thankfully, Hadou doesn’t get the chance to probe further about Drain since that’s when Tsukauchi and a few other officers arrive on the scene. Fortunately for you, Togata and Hadou quickly explain the situation to the police, so you don’t have to. 

For a brief moment, Tsukauchi meets your gaze, and when you see the hidden question in his eyes, you slowly nod your head, realizing he wants to know if Drain is somehow connected to your past. After you do that, he asks the other officers to apprehend the orange haired woman. 

No doubt he’ll have more questions for you later, but since he can tell how exhausted you are, the police detective allows the three of you to return to school. He even kindly offers a police car to give you all a ride home. 

After helping you into the back seat of the car, Togata chooses to sit up front with the police officer who’s driving and begins cheerfully chatting with him. Meanwhile, Hadou and Amajiki join you in the backseat and sit on either side of you.

While you do your best to remain awake, the exhaustion weighing heavily on you is just too strong to resist. After a few minutes of futile struggling, your eyes fall shut, and you finally give in to sleep’s enticing pull.

The last thing that registers in your tired mind is Amajiki making a startled sound after your head falls onto his shoulder. After that, sleep claims you, and you enter a deep, peaceful slumber.

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Operation Count Chocula

A/N: Idek what this is... you can thank @somefeministtheatrepls for this, based on this post. I changed it up a little! Gets a little cracky and I have no regrets

~2.5k words

Rated T for one (1) mildly dirty joke

Read on AO3

XXX

If someone had asked Blaine his senior year of high school whether he was going to be an active member of Greek life during college, he would have laughed in surprise and told them a solid no. His first year in college proved that his stance wasn’t as firm as he’d initially thought. 

Quinn had been the one to recruit him into Nu Beta Kappa. She was in his Reading in Short Story and Drama class, and after working on their final project together, she convinced him to rush NBK. She had pointed out that Greek life wasn’t all about parties and hazing, and that NBK focused on serving the community and striving for social equality. 

Currently, he was in his Junior year of college and in the chip aisle of the local Walmart, standing next to his Big Sister, the aforementioned Quinn Fabray. 

“I hate shopping for the house,” she lamented. “There are better things I could be doing with my life at three AM on a Friday night.”

“Isn’t it technically Saturday, then?” Blaine pointed out. 

“Aren’t Vice Presidents supposed to support their Presidents?”

He mocked a salute at her. “Nothing but respect for my President, madam Fabray.”

Blaine suddenly whipped his head around when he heard Santana, their Sergeant at Arms, cry out from the next aisle down. “You can have this box of Count Chocula when it falls from my cold, dead, hands, Gromit!”

He and Quinn exchanged concerned looks before sprinting down to find Santana. When they found her, Puck and Brittany, two more Nu Beta Kappa sisters, had shown up in support and were standing behind her. Santana had a death grip on the family size box of cereal, but so did the unusually tall boy standing across from her. 

Blaine recognized him as Finn Hudson, the treasurer for Omicron Sigma, Nu Beta Kappa’s “masculine” counterpart. They had the same values as NBK, but NBK had been started by female students who were not allowed to rush OS in the 1940s. In the end, both organizations eventually became co-Ed (all members of OS were “brothers” regardless of gender, and likewise, all members of NBK were “sisters”). However, they never did quite seem to overcome that bad blood between them.

There were four more members of OS standing behind Finn. A blond haired guy with a large mouth, a dark skinned girl with curly hair and a stylish beret, a short girl with bangs, and...

Blaine made a sharp intake of breath because standing next to the girl with beret was the most gorgeous guy he’d ever seen. He was wearing a grey hoodie with Property of ΟΣ printed in athletic font in the front, on top of checkered pajama pants. His hair, though disheveled from an obvious lack of sleep, was still light and had bounce to it. His eyes crystal blue eyes were half lidded, and seemed sunken in with drowsiness. 

Blaine thought he looked fantastic.

“This cereal is for my girlfriend!” Finn exclaimed, tugging the box closer to his chest. 

“Yeah, well this cereal is for my girlfriend!” Santana snapped back, tugging it closer to her chest in return.

Finn furrowed his eyebrows, unsure of what to do next. He turned his head back to nameless hot guy, still clutching the box. “Wait, Kurt, do I have to give it to her because of like, gay rights?”

The boy—Kurt, apparently—pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. “You don’t have to, but you should so we can go the fuck home.”

“No,” Finn grunted. “This is a matter of pride now. I clearly had the box first. I’m not going to let Nu Beta Kappa just take anything they want. Again.”

Uh oh. Last semester, Omicron Sigma and Nu Beta Kappa had both been planning an end of the banquet for members and tried to get the same venue for the day after finals ended. Santana had been president at the time and finessed her way onto the Cherry Tea Tree room’s schedule. Clearly, certain members of Omicron Sigma took it personally.

“Well, all we wanted was equal rights some seventy odd years ago, so I think things even out!” Santana said.

“Lord Tubbington owes a lot of money and he needs the Count Chocula to cope,” Brittany said in a panic.

From across the aisle, Blaine saw Kurt’s cheeks redden at the spectacle and wondered if the heat rising to his own face was now visible. He loved his friends, but god, were they extra as hell. He and Kurt exchanged glances that were equal parts amusement and horror. 

“I’ll arm wrestle you for it,” Santana challenged. 

Finn burst out into uproarious laughter. “You’re like, half my height. I think I can take you.”

“Then come on,” she sniped. “Put your Count Chocula where your mouth is!”

Kurt’s jaw dropped and he looked over to Blaine, gesturing to Finn as if to say Can you believe them?

Blaine nodded along and raised his eyebrows as if to say, I know, right? He was glad to see his gesture gain a smile from Kurt. He would have stayed the rest of the time staring at Kurt if Santana and Finn’s match hadn’t been so distracting.

When Blaine looked back towards them, they had their elbows on the empty cereal shelf, hands fastened in a deadlock against the others.

Finn pressed his arm down against Santana’s. 

Three of the four of Finn’s fraternity brothers cheered him on behind him. Likewise, Quinn, Puck, and Brittany all egged Santana on. Their collective shouts of growing excitement was a stark contrast to the silence in the rest of the store. Blaine was honestly surprised a manager hadn’t come to usher them out yet. But, he supposed, it was a college town. There are weirder things that happen in a grocery store at three AM.

It seemed like Santana was about to lose, but she must have tapped into strength that came from repressed rage and in a quick surge, pinned Finn’s arm against the metal. 

He looked at her, aghast by the outcome of the match. 

“Oh thank god, can we go home now?” Kurt asked. 

“Absolutely not!” Rachel screeched. 

Kurt groaned and threw his head back in frustration before letting it fall against the cart. He lifted his head up and mouthed to Blaine, They’re insane.

Blaine let out a chuckle and pointed to his friends, who were now exchanging obnoxiously celebratory high-fives with their champion. I know, he mouthed back. Them, too.

The short brunette stepped forward and hiked up the long sleeve of her blouse. “Let’s go, Satan.”

“Rachel, there is no way you can take her,” Kurt mumbled. 

“Just watch me.”

“You’re on, hobbit,” Santana growled.

If the first match had been short, this one had gone by at lightning speed. Blaine actually flinched when Rachel’s arm slammed against the metal. 

“No fair!” She cried. “I just... wasn’t ready, that’s all!”

Blaine stifled a laugh and rolled his eyes, making sure that Kurt could see him. Kurt returned the smile and shook his head. “Come on, guys.” Kurt said. “She won fair and square.”

Rachel pouted and crossed her arms before turning away and heading off into the other direction. 

“You know what,” the girl with the beret said. “We’ll see you next week.”

“We look forward to it, Mercedes!” Quinn huffed. Blaine gave her a condescending glance before rolling his eyes and leading the way to the front of the store.

Try as he might, Blaine couldn’t get the goofy smile off his face every time he imagined the interaction he just had with Kurt. Yes, it hadn’t seemed like much, and they hadn’t even spoken a verbal word to each other, and yet Blaine still found himself wondering if he should try and find the Omicron Sigma group before they left to try and get Kurt’s number.

“Hey Blaine,” Puck said, snapping him back to reality. “The water bottles are right there,” he said, pointing to a nearby stack.

“Huh?”

“The water bottles,” Puck repeated, stone faced as if Blaine should know exactly what he meant. “To quench your thirst for porcelain back there.”

He scoffed. “Shut up,” he grumbled, feeling his face warm. Blaine eventually decided against going to find Kurt right now, knowing he’d never hear the end of it from his friends. 

If it was meant to be, they’d cross paths again.

XXX

Noah Puckerman invited you and six others to join the secret messenger chat: Operation Count Chocula

Santana: What the hell is this, Puck?

Rachel: Who put me in a group chat with the devil herself?

Quinn: I’m with them on this one. Explain yourself, Noah.

Finn: Why am I in a group chat filled with NBKs!?!?

Puck: Listen here cumslut, we don’t want to mingle with you just as much as you don’t want to mingle with us. But it’s time we set aside our differences for a greater purpose. 

Mercedes: What the hell is he talking about?

Puck: True love.

Quinn: Oh dear god what the fuck

Sam: Is this about how Kurt and Blaine are clearly in love?

Brittany: Yeah, I picked up on that, too.

Puck: Yes! They left without each other’s numbers.

Finn: And why should we help you?

Puck: You wouldn’t be helping *me* you’d be helping them.

Puck: Besides, if we don’t do this, then we’ll probably have to endure like weeks of them stalking each other on Facebook, running into each other on campus and being too shy to make a move and then one of them will get a boyfriend because they think the other isn’t interested and it’ll all go to shit just TRUST ME

Quinn: That was a very… thorough… explanation.

Satan: WHO CHANGED MY NICKNAME TO THIS?

Benz: Finn, change her name back.

Benz: Wait a hot damn second. 

RyanSeacrestFan101: Lay off, I got that tattoo when I was 18!

Bottle Blond: MY HAIR IS NATURAL

Disaster Hair: Hey, my mohawk is iconic!

Yentl: First off, I am honored to share a name that Barbra once used on the stage. Secondly, whoever’s doing this, KNOCK IT OFF

Finn: I changed Santana’s name… I’ll change it back

Santana: Oh, my bad. I changed Mercedes’s name because I thought she changed mine.

Mercedes: Oops… I changed Quinn’s. 

Quinn: Alright, I changed Sam’s. 

Sam: I got pucks…

Puck: And I plead the fifth.

Puck: Can we get back to business please?

Rachel: Sure… what did you have in mind?

XXX

One Week Later

Quinn: This the dumbest plan ever

Liked by everyone in the group

Sam: So dumb, it just might work

Liked by everyone in the group

XXX

Kurt was one aisle over when he heard his brother call out an all too familiar phrase.

“Oh no! It’s the last box of Count Chocula, and someone has grabbed it!”

He rolled his eyes and trudged to the next aisle down. His mood instantly became brighter when he saw the NBK sisters from last week, Blaine in their midsts. He smiled and waved, a gesture that Blaine happily returned.

“So…” Kurt started when nobody had said anything after a few moments. “Finn, are you going to arm wrestle her for it, or are you going to finally swallow your pride?”

“Well, uh, you and Blaine have to fight for it.” He sputtered out quickly.

“What!?” Blaine cries out from the other side of the aisle. “Why?”

“Because I can’t,” Santana said quickly. Blaine looked at her with confusion. It wasn’t like her to turn down a competition. She noticed his suspicion and added, “I uh, pulled my arm muscle.”

“Doing what?” Blaine asked.

She shrugged. “Brittany.”

“I shouldn’t have asked.”

“So in my place,” she continued, shoving Blaine forward. “I choose, our valiant Vice President, who is just always so willing to help a sister out.”

“Yeah!” Finn started awkwardly. “And-and I can’t do it because I have a… paper cut?”

“A paper cut?” Kurt asked, his suspicion rising. He folded his arms across his chest. “You got a paper cut?”

“It was cardstock.” Finn explained. “Besides, you’re my brother, I need you to have my back on this.”

Kurt gaped at him. “I cannot believe you pulled the brother card in something as stupid as this.”

Finn beamed and pushed Kurt towards Blaine. “You’ll thank me for this one day.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Kurt walked up and met Blaine. “They’re insane…” his judgemental expression softened into one of fondness. “I missed you, by the way.”

“I missed you, too.” Blaine returned his smile. “But right now, I’m representing NBK and I’ve kinda been chosen to smack you down like the hand of god.”

“Oh, really?” Kurt raised his eyebrows, and gave Blaine a crooked grin. “You’ll regret that. I was going to suggest we just fake a tie, but it’ll be a lot more fun just winning.”

“Do you really think you can take me?” Blaine asked cheekily, placing his arm on the metal shelf. 

“I’m stronger than I look,” Kurt teased back, clasping Blaine’s hand in his. “After all, I did have you pinned down in the back seat of my car for the better part of an hour.”

Blaine sputtered at the memory and he lost his concentration, causing Kurt to gain the lead in the match. He smiled slyly. This was going to be an easy match.

“That’s cheating!” Blaine cried.

“No,” Kurt said. “That’s using my assets.”

“I don’t need to be reminded of your assets they’re very memorable.”

“When can I see you again?” Kurt asked, relaxing his grip just a bit and feeling Blaine reciprocate.

“Is this not our second date?” Blaine teased. “Breadstix was nice, but three AM at a Walmart is just so much classier.”

“You should see my bedroom at three AM.”

“What?” Blaine lost his concentration and in his moment of distraction, Kurt pressed his arm all the way down to the metal.

“Pinned ya.” Kurt grinned, leaning in closer to Blaine.

Kurt’s eyes were magnets, drawing Blaine in closer and closer. “You, Kurt Hummel, can pin me anytime you want,” he giggled.

Puck cupped his hands together around his mouth like a megaphone. “Now kiss!” It wasn’t long before their friends resembled a small picket line, demanding that Kurt and Blaine lock lips by chanting Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! in a steady beat.

“Should we tell them about our date on Thursday?” Blaine asked. “And that it went really, really well?”

Kurt quirked an eyebrow. “And take all the fun out of it? Yeah, right.”

Blaine’s face split with a wide grin before Kurt fisted Blaine’s shirt and pulled them together, the two rival Greek organizations cheering them on in the background.

[sandersidess]

Family

I may have favoritism oops.

tw: mention of abuse/implied neglect, resentment, happy ending though

-

Shouto sat on Thomas’ roof, staring at the sun setting. The colors had changed just a few minutes earlier, now staring a purple and pink sky. He could hear the laughter and banters, could feel the happiness radiating from there, wanted to leave and never come, wanted to just cry alone. He wasn’t even paying attention to his setting, he didn’t hear someone sitting next to him.

“Why the tears?”

Shouto snaps and looks to his left, letting out a breath as he stopped himself from his quirk. It was just the goth looking American. Virgil was his name. He remembers but Virgil said and touched his cheek, sighing as he felt it wet. Tears.

“No reason.”

“Bullshit.”

Shouto glares at him, but Virgil says nothing else and lays down, scrolling through his phone.

“Talk when ready,” Virgil gives a lazy thumb up and goes back to scrolling.

Shouto and Virgil stayed silent longer, Shouto clenching his hands into fists. Memories he had tried hard to repress were flooding in suddenly, pain he had long forgotten, the feeling of weakness and helplessness.

“I hate my old man.”

Virgil looks at him and raises an eyebrow. He remembers hearing Patton vaguely mention it and nothing else. He sits up on his elbows and nods at Shouto.

“Go on.”

“He’s the reason I can’t connect with others. He’s the reason my mother is locked up in a hospital. He’s the reason I don’t know my siblings and I lost one of them,” He grits his teeth, tears threatening to come out, “The only thing I can thank him for is for making me and not having to worry about money. Other than that, he’s nothing but a sperm donor and a bastard father! I could give a shit that’s he’s the number one hero, because the people don’t know who he truly is! I shouldn’t even have to thank him for anything!”

“How long have you been holding onto this?”

“Since before my training,” Shouto wipes away his tears, “I could hear how he treated my older brother. I only know of his name.”

“Todoro-“

“Shouto,” He says softly and looks down at his lap, “that’s my name.”

“Shouto,” Virgil starts off and is now sitting next to him, “Like you said yourself, he’s nothing but a sperm donor. He’s nothing but a monster who abused you and your family. I wish I could find the correct words to comfort you, but I hope you letting out your frustration to me helped,” He places a hand on his shoulder, feeling him tense and then removed it, “One more thing: It is up to you what you want to do with your future. You’ve probably heard it before, but just because he’s your father you don’t have to recognize him as such.”

“That would be disrespectful and shameful,” He whispers and stares off to the distance, “It may be different for you Americans, but family is a big issue for us. We’re supposed to united, connected.”

“Do you feel so with yours?”

“Only my mom and siblings,” A small smile tugged on his lips as he thought of them, “I feel more connected with them.”

“Then that’s your family. Also, family doesn’t have to be blood related,” Virgil ruffles his hair, earning him a groan and made him laugh, “I learned that from Patton. He may be a lot sometimes, but at the end he learns and respects us. Why do you think I call him pops at times?”

“He sure is better than my father,” Shouto chuckles and looks at Virgil. They both weren’t known for their physical affection, mostly Shouto, both touched starved and not knowing how to react when touched. However, Shouto hugged Virgil which made him Yelp then relax. Virgil patted his back and chuckles.

“Do you feel better?” Virgil asks quietly.

“I do. I feel better,” Shouto nods and gives a small smile, “Thank you.”

“These feelings will return, hell, I sometimes get them and look at the family I have. We started off on a bad foot, but we’ve gotten better. But the feelings usually never go away,” Virgil hums as he hears the others laughter, “But you have your own family separated from your sperm donor. Also, I think you created one with the other troublemakers.”

“Todoroki?! Where are you?!”

“And with Mr. I need sleep and hate my kids but I will kill anyone who hurts them,” Virgil laughs as he sees the teacher outside frantically.

“Aizawa-Sensei sure is something else,” Shouto chuckles and feels lighter, wiping away the last of his tears.

They both sat in more silence, hearing sniffling. They both tense and turn around, seeing Izuku taking pictures while also crying. He notices them looking and runs off. Virgil rolls his eyes and helps Shouto off the roof, going back inside where they were playing games.

Shouto scanned the room and saw smiles, heard laughter, felt excitement, joy and free, smelled the fresh food and treats made. He was dragged away by Izuku, towards where they were playing Monopoly. He looks down and huffs, a small smile on his lips.

Yeah. This was his family.

[tayzamxlfoy]

Fuckboy ~ Sirius Black x Hufflepuff reader

Hey guysss!!! So fuckboy huh :)) I actually really love this, I might make it into a sort of series thingy PLEASE let me know if you like it!!!! (Of course I used a Damon gif ;) love him)

Requested by @hufflepuff-chan :)) enjoy

Sirius Black was a fuckboy. Girls and even boys fawned over him at every angle, tripping over their toes excitedly trying to watch him as far as possible as he strutted down the castle corridors. It was like a literal movie, a chick-flick, with a group of girls chittering like excitable birds around every corner, whenever they caught sight of him. You sighed as you watched them and laughed to yourself mockingly, you thought one of them would faint in a minute.

And despite all of the endless obsession and love for this wavy dark haired handsome boy, you decided that Sirius Black was not worth your time. You seemed to be the only one in the castle that thought so. Your friends constantly gossiped about him, much to your disgust, as you sat there eating your feast and rolling your eyes. It was common knowledge, even of the professors, that he could get any girl he wanted. Except what all the girls in the castle were so frustrated by was that he just wouldn’t pick one.

“Maybe he has a girlfriend,” one of your best friends said biting into a chicken sandwich thoughtfully; they hadn’t stopped talking about him all day, it was sickening. “I’m pretty sure we would know y/f/n if he had a girlfriend, he would be snogging her round every corridor,” your other friend rolled her eyes and although her words seemed confident enough, her face was stricken with worry. You laughed and they both turned to you shocked, “guys, who cares?? Come on you don’t want him,” you shook your head and looked at their incredulous expressions. “Y/n, there is no one better than him.”

Being in Hufflepuff, you were thankful you didn’t have to deal with him any more than you had to. If he was strutting around your common room too you thought you’d go insane. The girls of the year didn’t understand why you hated him so much. Their incredulous open mouths whenever you said anything bad about him were hilarious as if you’d said something against royalty. Sirius played with girls, you knew he was a fuckboy, he fucked them around made them feel loved and special and gorgeous until he saw another one and dropped them in the dark. It frustrated the crap out of you. That he thought he could do what he wanted, and people would let him treat them like crap. He was gorgeous, you knew that, you weren’t an idiot, insanely gorgeous, but you weren’t going to let that infatuate you like it did all of the other people in the school and let him tread all over you, you’d had enough of that.

And this is what frustrated him. He could have any girl he wanted, he knew that, everyone did. Except for you. You were the only one who showed no interest towards him, didn’t fall head over heels at his feet and fawn over him running giggling when he looked your way. And it frustrated him to no end, he had no idea why you weren’t like the other girls, why you didn’t like him. He made it his mission to find out.

The further you got through your hogwarts life the more free periods you would have to study, it was great to finally relax for a while with all the OWL stress that pushed down on you for weeks on end, you spent most of this time either in the Hufflepuff common room or the great hall; today being the latter; so you could get some peace. It was morning, the enchanted ceiling above reflecting the pastel blue of the morning sky above.

Your peace was interrupted soon enough, the dark wavy hair fluttered in the corner of your eye as he threw himself on to the bench next to you; his familiar and annoying smirk adorning his broad cheeks. You rolled your eyes and sighed which seemed to encourage him, his grin widened and he put his arm lazily across the table and rested his jaw on his fist as he grinned at you.

You turned to him unamused and looked upon his lazy figure. All of his clothes were black, ripped dark jeans with his slightly browned skin through the rips, his Metallica top had rips through too, covered slightly by his black and worn leather jacket that he always wore; much to the teachers’ distress. Although this boy was probably the bane of your life, you found begrudgingly that your heart fluttered a little as you looked at him. For fucks sake y/n get a grip.

“Morning sunshine,” he drawled; his familiar smirk sounded in his voice as he gazed at you adoringly with his puppy eyes.

You shook your head and smiled a little, looking back to your DADA books infront if you, you laughed: “what do you want Sirius?”

“Oh nothing other than to bask in your stunning, warm light.”

God he was such a drama queen.

If you rolled your eyes any harder you would have probably gone blind.

“Oh save the chat up lines, why don’t you go bask in the sunlight of some other girl, or boy! Take your pick,” you laughed and held your hands out motioning to all the students studying in the hall around you.

“You jealous?” He raised his dark eyebrow suggestively; his ego was plastered across his features causing you to scoff.

“No, I’m not jealous, I’m studying,” to be honest you were completely naive to think he would graciously leave you then. Sirius slid closer to you and plonked his chin on his fist admiringly: “well why don’t you stop studying.”

“Because I want to pass my OWLs thankyou.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled a little smaller, less encouraged, (still gorgeous to your dismay), but still watching you with dark eyes filled with amusement and curiosity. If he wasn’t such a fuckboy you would probably have been amazing friends. You laughed to yourself, whatever.

Shaking your head as you looked down to the words in your book you felt a small smile twitch the corners of your lips in response to his comment; despite you trying your hardest to stop it. Merlin you hated this boy.

The hall around you was softly quiet for a minute, sounds of browned pages turning and whispers of chatter on the slight breeze were peaceful. It was broken again by the wizard boy sitting next to you, quieter and sweeter, but still there.

“I don’t want any of them,” Sirius put his head down a little, suddenly shy, his black waves falling slightly over his face. He raised his dark eyes to yours eventually and smiled, “I want you.”

You scoffed, ignoring the insistent flutter of your heart at his words, “no Sirius, you don’t.”

“I do...”

“No you don’t!! Your voice echoed throughout the hall, turning irritated heads towards you. Oops.

He smiled, amused, and raised his eyebrows skeptically. He watched you like you were some sort of comedy sitcom. Frustration tickled your veins. Eyeing him astounded you breathed and started out of the hall.

The boy’s eyes widened as he realised you were actually going to leave and got up followed you quickly. You thought you would explode in bottled frustration.

As you got to the entrance hall you felt his fingers around your arm and you swung round and glared at their owner.

“Sirius, please just piss off!!”

“What the hell have I done?!”

“Just fucking existed,” Helga Hufflepuff and your mother would not have been proud of you, “all you do is flirt with every person in the planet and watch them fall lovingly and pathetically at your feet; then you watched them cry and break as you move on to someone else! It’s fucking sick!”

His expression changed to one of shock at your sudden outburst, then turned blank. “That’s not true.”

“Which part?!” You shouted incredulously. Your heightened voice echoed of the walls and to be honest you could care less if everyone heard. Heart fluttering angrily and adrenaline trickling through your body made you worse.

“I haven’t met every person on the planet.”

The frustrated groan you made next was probably never emitted by any human before. You laughed humourlessly. You didn’t know why you bothered.

“I don’t know why I bothered. I knew I would get through to you!”

“You bothered because you...like me??” He smirked his annoying smirk.

“See look, you just don’t get it do you?!” Anger shook your voice as it got louder, “you, Sirius Black, are a fuckboy. You fuck around with every bloody person in the school. Merlin, bloody Dumbledore might have a tiny crush on you. And you and them let themselves fall head over heels for you without a thought. It’s disgusting!!”

He eyed you with his dark eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion, “I can’t help if they like me.”

“Yes you can!! You can turn some of them down if you aren’t interested, instead of playing with them and tying their hearts in knots and toying with them like puppets!” You felt your throat scratch and your eyes prickle as you began to grow upset. Right then you didn’t care. Why should you repress it??

Shaking your head you sighed heavily and picked up your books you’d dropped in anguish, “so please,” your voice became quieter and calmer now, “just leave me alone.”

You looked once into his dark beautiful eyes and then started up the staircase.

Sirius’ face stayed shocked, his dark eyelashes wide and his mouth slightly opened I’m surprised at your huge outburst and all the insults. You watched him as he swallowed slowly and moved towards you; caution turned to a little concern prickling his features as you flopped down onto the step.

“They’re not your toys, okay??” Murmuring the words you looked down to the steps below you as tears blurred your eyes and rested your head against the wooden banister poles tiredly. He sat beside you.

The boy seemed to watch you with concern and curiosity, quiet and calm. You thought he would have shouted at you or walked off arrogantly. Instead he lifted his hand up towards your face and gently tucked your hair behind your ear away from your face. Your eyes reached his as he gave a cute little smile.

“You didn’t fall at my feet.” It was almost a whisper as he curiously watched you respond.

“What??” You breathed.

“Well,” he looked much less arrogant, less confident, kind and just curious as he looked up at you, this was a different boy to the one you knew, “I’ve flirted with you enough and you haven’t fallen at my feet.”

Your heart fluttered gently, “I’m not like them,” tears were blinked away as you looked up at the portraits stretching curiously to listen to your conversation spring back innocently as if they weren’t interested, you laughed to yourself, so nosy.

“Why?”

Your eyes met his curious ones again as you lifted them, he looked so beautiful in every way, how was that possible?

“I’m just not.” You could think of no other answer, eyes not flicking away from each others for a second he grinned.

“I’m glad you aren’t.”

“What??”

“Like them.”

“Why??”

“Because you’re you,” only then did his eyes flick down shyly and make your heart flutter again, this time you let it. A smile touched your lips.

You sat in comfortable silence for a while until you gazed up to him again “Why are you showing me you??”

“Huh??” Beautiful face in confusion.

“Why are you showing me the real you, that you don’t show the others??” You smiled at him as he flicked his hair away from his face and rested back on his elbows on the steps, looking up to the moving staircases above.

“Only my best friends know me really,” the marauders, you smiled to yourself, “I don’t like showing others, you deserve it,” he shrugged and gave you a crooked grin that make you chuckle.

“Why’s that then?”

“I trust you,” he raised an eyebrow at you as if testing your worth of his trust and you laughed, “okay then.”

You lay back next to him on the steps, you realised just how high the ceiling really was and how cool it looked to watch the stairs move as they wished.

“How do I know you wouldn’t play around with me??” It was a whisper and a true question. You found yourself slowly loving this boy you’d hated for so long, his real self revealed to you through all of the bravado and shit that he shows everyone else. Your head turned to meet his as you lay on the steps.

“You’ll have to trust me on that one,” with that he winked and made you grin and breathe a laugh as you both turned your heads to watch the stairs again. This new sincere and kind, funny Sirius Black was just your perfect boy and you felt every bone in your body wanting him. You shook your head and laughed to yourself. For goodness sake.

“I won’t.”

He ensured you. Turning to watch him as he continued to look up at the sky you smiled slightly. Somehow, you knew he wouldn’t, felt you could trust him with you. Merlin how did that happen.

His eyes turned to you and burned into your own instensly, showing you just how much he meant it. He brought his hand to your face slowly and brushed away a stray tear off your cheek with his chapped thumb, butterflies fluttered gently in your stomach as he smiled sweetly to you, as if he heard them fly.

“Hmm.”

He watched you turn back to the ceiling, smile still on your cheeks. His eyes glistened slightly in his own smile as he sighed silently in relief as he watched you, thank Merlin.

“If I ever give the slightest hint that I’m going to I officially give you permission to poison my pumpkin juice.”

Your laugh echoed off the golden walls as you grinned at his comment, “I can’t wait.”

“You will never have to.” He almost sung it as you mocked disappointment.

“Ah crap, oh well.”

He laughed a melodic chuckle as you both realised that yknow what, you two weren’t so bad together after all. You felt a big grin rise across your cheeks. Who would have thought.

You also smiled wider as you pictured the face of every girl in the school dying of shock as you walked in to dinner with Sirius Black’s leather covered arm around your shoulders lazily. McGonagall reluctantly handing over a galleon to Dumbledores smug hand as he watched us walk in.

[heauxkyu]

97 sprace, please. ☺️

Thanks for asking! I promised myself I would make this one shorter than my first sprace prompt, but I have no self control oops. I was also gonna try a modern au but I love my period-typical newsies and no one can stop me from writing historically inaccurate gay shit ((Also their accents are written atrociously I’m so sorry)) Hope you like it :)

97. “You’re so cute when you pout like that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Guess what?”

An excited voice shouted right into Spot’s ear just as he was about to doze off, his feet propped up on a rotting wooden crate and his back leaning against a slanted metal rod, one of the hundreds upon hundreds providing support to the Brooklyn bridge.

Surrounded by mucky water, abandoned fishing nets, empty cargo bins, and scattered broken bottles, Spot’s throne was far less than impressive. However, it was still his place, his perch, the location where any newsie could most likely find him on a laid-back afternoon. Although, most of the Brooklyn newsies knew better than to interrupt the King when he was relaxing after selling, meaning the abrasive voice that woke Spot out of his peaceful daydream didn’t belong to one of his boys.

Tipping his hat away from his eyes, he glared up at Racetrack Higgins, rolling his eyes as he watched the Manhattan newsie bounce on the balls of his feet, holding his hands behind his back, waiting for Spot to respond to his initial question.

“The hell do you want?” Spot grumbled, settling back against his pole and crossing his arms over his chest, doing his best to appear unalarmed. Truth be told, Race had been the last person he expected to see. While Race had made an annoying habit of visiting Spot whenever he had the chance, it was usually at night after he was done selling for the day, when he knew Spot was alone and could let his guard down. Race would either challenge him to a quick game of cards or he would simply ramble on about the events of the day, seemingly happy about simply being able to talk with the other boy when he wasn’t so worried about his status. However, it was still early in the afternoon, and there was no way Race was done selling his papers; Spot knew he took breaks between to bet on the races constantly occurring at Sheepshead, meaning it took him twice as long to sell his papes on a busy day.

“You have to guess!” Race responded, the same excited shrill still accompanying his voice. Spot scowled.

“What if I don’t care?” He yawned, moving his hand up to tip his hat back over his eyes. “Go away.”

Race, completely used to Spot’s sarcasm and nonchalance, simply reached forward and tipped Spot’s hat back up so he could look at him again. Grinning, he still held one hand behind his back and tried again.

“Spot, c’mon! You’ll never guess what just happened to me!”

“Well, clearly you wasn’t just taught how to leave a guy alone.” Spot growled, sitting up and adjusting his hat on his head once more. “That’d be a damn miracle.” He attempted to crane his neck to see what Race was hiding, but Race turned further away, still maintaining his stupid, cocky grin.

“Christ,” the younger boy mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “How am I supposed to know what happened? Did ya find another dead frog?”

Race giggled as he thought back to the time he had indeed found a dead frog and thought it would be hilarious to put it in Spot’s discarded hat as they played cards one night. When Spot had put his hat back on and felt the frog carcass tumble down the back of his shirt, he had let out the highest pitch scream that Race had ever heard. To this day, he denies that the noise ever happened, but Race still wheezes with laughter every time the event is brought up.  

“No, but you’s got a nasty attitude that makes me wish I had a dead frog to fling at ya.” Race said, side stepping Spot again as the other boy tried to peer behind his back another time.

“Damnit, Race. I know you ain’t even finished sellin’ your papes. Either get outta here or tell me what you got.” Spot snapped, losing patience by the second. He tolerated Race and his antics to a point, but now that his nap had been interrupted, he was like a small toddler, ready to break at any second.

Race pursed his lips, bouncing on his feet again, waiting a little longer just to watch Spot suffer before he blurted out “I WON!”

Spot barely had time to raise an eyebrow at the boy in front of him before a small pouch was hitting him in the face. He jumped back slightly before looking down at the bag that had now fallen in his lap. “You… won?” He asked, clearly lost.

“At Sheepshead, you moron!” Race cried, picking up the bag from Spot’s lap and waving it in his face. Spot could hear the money rolling around inside, and the words finally started clicking in his mind. Race, to his knowledge, had never won a single bet he placed at Sheepshead, for he was always the victim of bad tips and, frankly, shitty luck.

“No way.” Spot gasped, his eyes widening. “You’re kiddin’.”

“Look at it, Spot!” Race cried again, opening the bag and digging in to pull out the coins. “I’m rich!” He shoved the money in Spot’s face, near hysterical laughter coming from his mouth. “I’s just over at Sheepshead doin’ my sellin’, right? And the next race is happenin’ real soon and I just hadta go see it, but I got no idea who to bet on. So then,” He paused to take a giant breath before continuing, “So then, these two guys is passin’ me by and they whisperin’ real low about the horse they’s bettin’ on. I followed behind ‘em and they said Ol’ Sweets was the winner. She ain’t ever won before but I bet on her anyway. And she won today and I won! I won! Four whole dollars!”

He was practically dancing in front of Spot, clenching his fist around the money and spinning around like a fool. Spot sat stunned in front of him. For any newsie, four dollars was a lot of money to have sitting in their pockets, and Race was the last person he expected to win something like that. If he was being honest, he felt rather proud, barely able to keep a smile off of his face as Race celebrated in front of him. However, he was slightly confused as to why Race stopped in the middle of his day to tell him of all people.

“Why are you tellin’ me this?” He asked, reaching out to grab Race’s arms to steady him. Race’s smile faltered only slightly as he put the money back in the tiny bag and shrugged.

“Why not? I was excited. You’s my only friend over here.”

Spot tried to ignore the the way his heartbeat picked up at that statement.

“And,” Race continued, his smile returning, “I felt like I owed ya a bit. For, you know, always lettin’ me on your turf.”

Spot perked up at this. “Owed me?” He repeated dumbly, sitting back down on his crate, one knee up with his elbow resting on it. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Race said, digging back into the bag to pull out half of his winnings. “Here.” He held out his hand, the money shining in the sun, and looked at Spot pointedly. “Take it.”

Spot, for once in his life, was completely lost for words, staring at the hand in front of him. He made no move to accept the money. Instead, he looked up at Race and said “You bein’ serious right now?”

Race nodded earnestly, moving his hand closer to Spot. “Yeah. I figured since, you know, I come over here all the time. And you always talk to me… And you’s my friend.”

Spot had to try extremely hard to pretend that Race’s words weren’t making him feel a load of feelings that he had tried to repress a long time ago. Gulping, he took a shaky breath and stood up, reaching forward to close Race’s fingers around the money. “I can’t take this.” He said softly, keeping his hand closed around Race’s fist, just to take advantage of the contact.

Race blinked. “What?”

“I’m not takin’ your money.” Spot repeated, finally pushing Race’s fist away. “You won it.”

“Yeah, so?” Race sounded offended, his smile now gone, replaced with a look of confusion. “I won it, it’s my money, and I wanna give it to you.”

“No.” Spot said again, firmer this time. “You don’t need’ta give me anything. Lettin’ you in here is just good for business between me n’ Manhattan. You don’t— You don’t owe me.”

Admittedly, the amount Race was attempting to give him wasn’t huge, and Spot would likely blow through it in a heartbeat buying candy for some of his younger boys that could use something to cheer them up. However, it was the gesture that meant the most. Race spent half of his time over at Sheepshead trying to win and when he finally did, he brought it over to Spot. His friend.

Spot scoffed in his head. Race’s friend. Maybe he didn’t want to be Race’s friend. Maybe he wanted something he couldn’t have.

Race seemed lost for words as he looked down at the money in his hands. He snorted and shook his head, eventually dropping the coins back into the pouch and pocketing it. “Well, this was a big ol’ waste of time.” He mumbled, his crestfallen face making Spot’s heart wrench. An awkward silence passed between the two boys, and Spot was seriously considering taking the money that Race had worked so hard for, just to see him smile, but his pride overpowered his common sense.

“Um,” Race finally broke the silence with his disappointed tone, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking pointedly away from Spot. “I’ll uh, I guess I’ll see ya around.”

He paused for a moment, glancing back at Spot, evidently waiting for him to say something profound and amazing, preferably along the lines of “Don’t go, Race!” or “I’d love to take the money and buy you dinner, Race!” but he knew that would never come. When Spot said nothing and instead turned his eyes down in embarrassment, Race turned on his heel and trudged off, his bag of unsold papes swinging pathetically behind him.

…

The next day, Race seriously considered avoiding Brooklyn all together, his mind unable to focus on anything but the rejection he faced the day before. Frustration built up inside of him as he got ready to start the day. It’s not like he asked Spot to marry him or anything, so why did it feel like Spot had taken his feelings like, stuffed them in a tiny box, and crushed the box?

After successfully avoiding any questioning from Davey, who had become this annoying older brother-weird uncle-figure to most of the Manhattan newsies, Race decided he didn’t want to be stared at suspiciously for his fowl mood all day and began the trek across the bridge. If he ran into Spot, he would just ignore him. He could do that. He had SOME self control after all.

‘If Spot talks to me, just ignore him. If Spot talks to me, just ignore him’ Race repeated over and over again in his head as he got closer and closer to the end of the bridge, his mood mirroring the dark clouds already beginning to cover the clouds.

‘If Spot talks to me, just ignore him.’

‘If Spot talks to me, just ignore him.

‘If Spot talks to me, just ignore him.

‘If Spot talks to me, just—‘

“Race!”

“Huh? Oh, hi, Spot.”

Shit.

Race bit his lip and scolded himself for breaking the only rule he had come up with on the way over just because he was distracted. Spot was standing right in front of him, slightly off balance, chest heaving, and hat missing, clearly having run over to Race as soon as he had seen him on the bridge. Race felt a pang of satisfaction as he noticed Spot flushed and struggling to catch his breath. It was very unlike him to run after anyone, meaning Race, if anything, was at least slightly important to the younger boy.

“Race, I” Spot panted, straightening up and running a hand through his hair, “I didn’t think you were, uh, gonna come… here… um, today.” He stuttered like a nervous child, suddenly remembering that he had made no plan of what he was going to say to Race once he saw him.

Race raised an eyebrow at him, deciding it was probably best to break his ‘don’t speak to Spot’ rule. “And?” He asked, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

Spot opened his mouth, but no words came out. Race rolled his eyes and pushed past him, planning to lose him in the crowd of people going about their days and get to his selling point as soon as possible.

“Race, wait!” Spot called after him, jogging slightly to keep the other boy in his sight.

“No.” Race called back. “I’m gonna go win more money and NOT give it to you.”

He knew the response was childish at best, but his feelings were hurt and he knew Spot probably didn’t care, but he was still going to make it known.

Spot finally caught up to Race after spitting a few vulgar words at a man who simply wouldn’t move, and caught him by the wrist. Race huffed and turned around, wrenching it out of the other boy’s grip.

“Leave me alone.”

“No,” Spot said, looking around at the people surrounding them on the streets in frustration. He definitely didn’t want an audience for this. Glancing around quickly, he spotted a store with no customers milling around the front, meaning the back would be even more desolate. Picking up Race’s wrist again, he yanked him over to behind the weathered brick building and pushed him up against the wall.

Race fought against him, albeit half-heartedly, letting himself be pressed against the wall, but refusing to wipe the scowl from his face. “Go away, Spot.” He spat, knowing he was taking a great risk denying Spot what he wanted, especially as Spot could have him beat to the ground in a matter of seconds.

“Just hold still for a second!” Spot snapped, pinning Race’s shoulders in place. “I’m tryin’ to apologize!”  

“Oh, wow!” Race cried, sarcasm evident in his tone. “Spot Conlon wants to apologize to me? How lucky am I?”

Spot glared at him. “I wasn’t tryin’ to hurt your feelings.”

The statement was surprisingly honest and was enough to have Race’s mouth snap shut. He stared at Spot with a blank expression on his face, allowing the other to continue hesitantly.

“You just… offered me the money that you worked for and I ain’t no bum who needs your charity.” Spot continued, making sure to still maintain an ounce of his dignity within the apology. “Plus, you earned it. It’s yours. I wasn’t tryin’ to make you feel… I dunno, bad, or whatever.”

Race chewed on his tongue for a moment, taking in the very Spot-like apology. The younger boy’s hands were still gripping his shoulders, and he was much closer than Race was used to, but he was not going to let himself be distracted.

“You was a jerk.” He declared, his hands gripping the strap of his bag full of papes. “I wasn’t tryin’ to give you charity. I was tryin’…” He paused. What had he been trying to do? Win Spot’s affection? He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and thought for a second before finishing with “I was tryin’ to make us even. You let me sell in Brooklyn at no price.”

“The reward is that I gets Manhattan on my side if we’s ever got a problem. It’s a business negotiation.” Spot responded coolly, still not moving any farther from Race. “You’s gettin’ all soft on me.”

“I ain’t gettin’ soft!” Race argued, frowning deeply. Spot only laughed. Race continued frowning as the other boy threw his head back. “It ain’t that funny.

“You IS gettin’ soft, Higgins, don’t deny it. Comin’ over here to give ol’ Spotty a gift yesterday and all.” Spot teased, finally dropping his hands from Race’s shoulders. His apology was turning into the perfect opportunity to poke fun at the other boy. 

“Shut up!” Race whined. “I was tryin’ to be a good person, somethin’ you wouldn’t understand.”

Spot only laughed more, finally stopping to look at Race in a way that made his cheeks flush. The affection in Spot’s face was unmissable, and Race wasn’t prepared for the way his heartbeat seemed to amplify in his ears and his hands began to sweat. In order to save himself some embarrassment, he huffed and turned his head to the side, staring pointedly down toward the other end of the street. He expected the altercation to be done at that, but then Spot spoke again.

“You’re so cute when you pout like that.”

Race was pretty sure he was having a heart attack. His head whipped around and he stared at Spot incredulously. “Excuse me?”

Spot didn’t falter. “When you do that pout thing. It’s cute.”

Race thought his knees might give out. “I ain’t cute.”

“You are.” Spot argued. Race felt like his skin was on fire and he fought with all of his might to keep a smile from appearing on his face. He wondered how many times he could get Spot to admit that he thought he was cute before he passed out.

“I ain’t cute and you’s being a jerk.” He retorted, pushing himself off the wall only to be pushed back by Spot, who was now hovering over him.

“Says the one who tried to give me money.”

“I was tryin’ to make us even!” Race cried, attempting to ignore the way Spot’s hands were gripping his hips and his breath was hitting Race’s cheek. “I thought it was a nice thing to do.”

“It was nice, but…” Spot whispered, pressing Race further into the wall, if possible. The other boy raised his eyebrows, his heart beating so loud he thought Spot might just be able to hear it. He almost didn’t want Spot to finish his sentence, for fear that he might vomit and ruin the strange, yet amazing moment the two were sharing. However, Spot finished it anyway by saying “You could’ve paid me in a different way.”

Race felt as if he had been slapped in the face, his whole body heating up at Spot’s words and his heart basically throwing itself out of his ribcage and climbing up into his throat. He wanted to cry and scream at the same time; he was unable to believe that Spot was actually here, pinning him against a wall, suggesting that they do things Race had only ever dreamt about.

“You want me to pay you?” He repeated Spot’s words carefully, a mischievous grin appearing on his face. “But… how?”

He knew exactly how, but he wanted to hear Spot say it. He wanted the satisfaction of knowing that Spot thought about him in the way that Race did. He wanted to know that Spot spent countless hours analyzing their every interaction, that he daydreamed about Race, that he dealt with endless days of inner turmoil over having feelings for someone he thought he could never have.

Spot grinned back at him, his hands squeezing Race’s hips, pressing his own body ever closer so that they were aligned from chest to toe. He waited a painstakingly long time to answer Race, watching how the blush rose on his cheek’s, how his dark eyes sparkled, even when it was cloudy, and how he kept wetting his lips with his tongue and oh god his lips.

“Kiss me.”

Race wasted no time at all. He shot forward and closed the gap between them, melting into Spot’s touch as soon as he felt the warmth of his mouth. Spot responded eagerly, moving a hand from Race’s waist to behind his neck, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. Race’s hands moved from the strap of his bag to the front of Spot’s shirt, grabbing fistfuls of fabric to pull him closer and to steady himself so that he didn’t collapse onto the ground and dissolve into a puddle of emotion. They kissed each other as if they had something to prove, Spot biting at Race’s lower lip before running his tongue along it, making the boy pinned to the wall moan softly. Race’s hands were everywhere from Spot’s shirt, to his hair, to his back, desperate to show the other boy how much he wanted this.

When they finally broke apart, they took each other in, Race laughing at the spit visible on Spot’s chin. “Gross.” He giggled, making Spot roll his eyes and wipe his mouth with his sleeve. A very romantic gesture, in Race’s opinion.

“Shut up.” Spot mumbled, the hand still placed behind Race’s neck running up to card through his hair, knocking his hat off. “You should stay in Brooklyn.”

Race laughed. “Forever?”

“I meant tonight.” Spot answered seriously, pressing another quick kiss to Race’s lips. “Just for the night. Then we’ll be even”

Race smiled at him.

“I think I can make that work.”

~~~~~~~~~~

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[comingouttoteach]

Week 20

Whoosh another one down. It’s been a tough one. My stress levels were high over half term. The 90-odd assignments got marked, the lessons got planned 48 hours in advance, the Year 12 SOW has taken flight, and EPS began to shape up. I only had one whole day off (a hangover; my first real one in at least two years) but I did get to frolic in the Welsh hills. 

My week started with the dreaded (I know this shouldn’t be an adjective I use for students but it’s taking its toll now) Year 7s on Monday period 1. I introduced them to Shakespeare and A Midsummer Night’s Dream, gauged prior knowledge, played them the first part of the animated tales version and then we drew a character/plot diagram on the board together and they copied it. I didn’t give any praise or RTL warnings (oops). On the riotousness scale (RS) (where 10 is the Stonewall riots of 1969) it was about a 7. The next lesson was about the same, except for the part where I showed them the whole 25 minute film and paused at points for them to do a gap fill. They’re instantly absorbed when there is a film to watch or a story to listen to, even the ones with ADHD. The last lesson of the week, where I gave them assessment feedback, a plot recap quiz and we read Egeus’ speech, was an 8/9. I was hungry, exhausted and fed up. I stopped the lesson halfway through and got them all to leave the room and line up outside in silence. I (thought I) gave them a right telling off, however the cover teacher that was observing me said I could try shouting at them (maybe I can’t shout?). I reiterated expectations, referenced their parents’ evening (which was the night before!) and expressed my disappointment. I told them that anyone disrupting the lesson henceforth would get an RTL warning/sent to RTL. I did give out quite a few warnings and some of them should have gone to RTL but there is still some resistance to it inside me. The cover teacher also held them back (it was just before lunch) for five minutes. Her tone was severe and deadly serious; it worked wonders. I think if I get the right tone I won’t have to shout. This coming week there are going to be changes. I much prefer this topic and I want them to enjoy it too. I want to get them acting, I want to get them doing some set design and, most of all, I want to impart my passion for close analysis. An impossible feat? Well firstly, I have no option; that’s what they’ll be doing for their assignment. Secondly, I believe it a satisfying activity, once you get the hang of it. They’ve had some experience of writing P(oint) E(vidence) A(nalysis) R(eader) paragraphs. Watch this space. My behaviour reward system that I’m rolling out this week looks like this:

Every student’s name is listed down the left-hand side. The weeks and dates for each lesson are across the top. This is how it will work:

- It will be printed out on A3 and stuck with blu-tack at the front of the room every lesson.  - Each lesson every student starts out with 5 positive behaviour points. They can get more by behaving well, trying hard and being kind, but the baseline is five. - If someone shouts out, disrupts others, talks over peers or me or generally misbehaves then they instantly lose the five points. - If they do any of the above a second time they get a warning. - If they do any of the above a third time then they will go straight to RTL. - 5 isn’t the limit; students can gain more points during each lesson. - At the end of the term I will reward the top 5 scores with... (TBC, maybe an Easter egg). - If the total for the whole class is over 200 then they get to watch the film in the last lessons of term. 

If I had presented this to myself last September I would have thought it cruel but what is crueler is the fact that there are many in the class who behave exceptionally well and try really hard but are forced to endure the disruptiveness of their peers every lesson. I am doing this for the ones that stare at me with repressed frustration, wishing they could just get on with the lesson. 

Moving on, transactional writing with Year 10 has been my most positive start to term. We’ve done formal and informal letters. This involved getting the most disruptive boy in the class to write a formal complaint letter to a head teacher about the questionable behaviour of their students as they leave school (the irony). We also analysed a formal letter written by a Year 9 student at the school who was prominent in organising the Bristol school strike for climate change. It was a letter she’d written to the head. They really engaged with it and I think I did a good job of remaining apolitical despite my absolute admiration of the girl (who is in my Year 9 class). These lessons have mostly been positive, with just a few useful suggestions form the teacher, such as:

- constant reminders that what they produce in their book will be their revision guide next year.  - giving them longer tasks to work on and less teacher talk/direction. - ensuring homework is challenging enough. 

Next week I’m getting them to write one more letter then we’re on to reviews. 

Year 9 are also onto non-fiction, with a focus on news articles. I nearly turned over the whole of the first lesson into a debate as to whether religious documents (Bible, Quran) are fiction or non-fiction, but resisted. I also gave them their essay feedback. A different class teacher (whose assessments I marked) had advised blind marking, however, this did not work so well for this Year 9 set. There were a few shocks, good and bad; one girl was nearly crying (bad kind). Most people’s grades were ran in line with grades they’d already received. I thought I’d done a good job but there is no way I will blind mark a class again unless I know them back to front, side to side and up and down (The teary girl’s essay will be marked again by the class teacher...). 

I fear I am not getting the most out of this class and feel the pressure, quite intensely, of their ‘top set’ status. They are all lovely, which makes behaviour actually all the more harder to manage; I’m too nice to them. Although it is not really being nice if it means they aren’t learning as much as they could be, is it? I am going to plan a lesson, from start to finish, with the class teacher, in order to get some practical help. 

I only saw my Year 8s once this week. I introduced the topic for the term: nature poetry (which apparently is boring). We spent a whole lesson understanding what all the different poetic terms are. It was a 5 on the RS. They are all fully in control of themselves and their actions (unlike the Year 7s) but they have a tendency to go off task at the slightest opportunity. Their lack of enthusiasm for the topic is also a concern. How can I make nature poetry cool? Maybe I will do my old ‘recite a poem’ trick again. 

I am still finding being in the school quite challenging. I’m very aware that I need to somehow step up my game. However, I feel as though I’m already taking five steps at once and every day is a tower block. I need more time in the day and more confidence. That would do the trick.