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arliedraws · 7 months ago

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All this anti-Remus talk is making me like him even more 😂

I love that he’s a character who is so fixated on image and how he comes off. He’s such a cold person! Detached! Won’t form close bonds! Like…his loving parents fucked him up by keeping him away from all other children until Hogwarts. I love how this plays into his character again and again and again.

I put the rest under the cut because it gets a bit tangential, but whatever, I was feeling a bit heated.

I feel like Remus doesn’t actually know how to make friends—he has let everyone come to him. James and Sirius formed their little group, and Remus has always been in awe of what friends will do FOR him. What did Remus do for his friends? Maybe Remus learns how to accept love, but he is not very good at giving it back.

It’s so interesting to me that Remus doesn’t become Harry’s go-to even after they spent hours together. Harry allows Remus to see his most vulnerable side, and Remus doesn’t reciprocate even after the truth comes out. At the very least, he could write Harry. He could visit Harry in the summer.

But I actually LOVE this about Remus. I love that he’s written as a warm, inviting sort of person when he’s actually someone who is terrified of forming close bonds. No one is allowed to see the real Lupin, and once someone has seen a part of himself he doesn’t like, he immediately detaches himself and disappears. Remus wants to appear in control of himself because he is concerned more about his image than doing the right thing. At the end of PoA, I’m sure he’s upset that he nearly killed Harry and co, obviously, but more importantly, he’s embarrassed that he lost control. If he really cared about the safety of students, he would have revealed Sirius’s disguise to Dumbledore as soon as Sirius escaped Azkaban.

The point of his character is “what you see on the surface is not necessarily what lies below.” It’s one of the most salient themes of PoA.

Anyway, it’s uncomfortable! So many people want to make Remus a “model of marginalization” - who, depending on the fanon, falls on one end of the spectrum which is “ohhhh poor disabled guy :((( he can’t do anything because he’s a pathetic baby” or “look how hot and tall and rational and intelligent he is despite his poverty/disability!!!!”

It’s SO INFANTILIZING. I don’t think Remus is a bad guy or a good guy—I think that his particularly negative character traits are a result of prejudice towards his condition, his upbringing, and his internalized prejudice towards werewolves. So I am not saying he’s a complete asshole. Obviously. My point, though, is that he has friends who support him in school, particularly James, who break the law and risk torture prison (and bodily harm from a werewolf) to support him.* And Remus…he does not do much to reciprocate that sort of love. The very least he can do for James is to check in on Harry (he doesn’t even need to say hi—just literally see that he’s ok!). James risked his life for Remus, and Remus won’t risk Dumbledore’s disapproval to reciprocate.

He continually does the LEAST for Harry. Harry has to beg him to teach him the Patronus Charm. And when Harry is clearly craving his parents’ voices as they’re dying, Remus doesn’t even offer a nugget of “ohhhh, gosh, Harry, let’s give you some good stories about your dad, ok?”

This is a cold, broken man who has convinced himself that being alone is safe because you can never be rejected. This is Remus’s greatest fear. He’s the teacher that needs to be liked but he hides behind professionalism when it suits him. His “nice guy” traits are a fucking ACT. I want people to explore more about his negative traits! He blames his condition when people get too close, and when people manage to climb his walls to try to get close to him, he pushes them away.

Chronic illness does not make you a good person—it just makes life harder. Remus accepts love and support from his friends—and yes, they SHOULD give him love and support because this is what we owe each other, but Remus also owes his friends love and support. It’ll look different from how James, Sirius, and Peter can support him, but you don’t get to just take from your friends without giving back. Your friends are not there to be your mommy. Sometimes, you’ll go through periods where your friends are holding you up and you just need to accept that they don’t resent you for it, but if you’re willing to accept help, you’d better be willing to return it later. As someone who has a few people in their life who take and take and give little in return, I can tell you, it starts to feel like your only purpose is to carry them on your shoulders. And man, it’s fucking exhausting. Sometimes I need to be carried too.

I have no idea how Remus behaved at Hogwarts regarding his friends on a day to day basis because Harry never sees evidence of this, but we see him as an adult who is unwilling to support his friend’s orphaned kid in ANY meaningful way…unless Harry begs him. In the end, Remus is still an autonomous adult and Harry is a child in need. In this situation, at the bare minimum, Remus has the power to pick up a pen and write.

So why don’t we see this more in fic? You all know I’m a Sirius stan, but I am CONSTANTLY critiquing Sirius’s relationship with masculinity. Sirius is my favorite character, and I LOVE exploring the uncomfortable parts of him—he’s cold when he perceives that he has been emasculated, even belittling Harry when he’s insulted. He’ll put himself in danger to protect Harry when all Harry really wants is for Sirius to be there for him (which Sirius can’t do in OotP). These are the bits that make me queasy—and I love exploring them!

Why not explore the ugly parts of Remus? You say you want interesting, well-rounded characters with chronic illness/disabilities/neurodivergence? Then let them be interesting. Make them complicated and embrace the icky parts of them. If you want, explore how society has created a cold, sad, wet noodle Remus and then GIVE HIM A PATH TO GROWTH. Like… if you don’t like these parts, give him scenarios so he can grow and become a better person.

Anyway, stop fucking throwing around words like “ableism” when you hear something you don’t like about a character. You don’t know the real person behind their username. Most of us here have some sort of disability/neurodivergence/chronic illness, etc, so stop fucking assuming we’re Chad Abled-Bodied or Karen Neurotypical, ffs.

It’s fucking insulting and infantilizing that we can’t discuss complexity in characters who are marginalized in their society. By excusing all of their less than cute actions, you’re essentially saying, “This is not a full human being with a full range of emotion and flaws—they are a perfect little baby who doesn’t deserve reproach, who can do whatever he wants!”

But that’s just me, I guess.

—

* (Also, side note, Moony the werewolf could have very well killed any one of them. Additionally, the theory that Moony couldn’t hurt them in Animagus form was ONLY A THEORY. It might not have worked at ALL and they risked their lives to test it.)

#I went on a rant here #I’m not anti-Remus #in fact i love him #but he’s not a great guy #probably delete later when i’m less irritated #stop dehumanzing people with chronic illness/disabilities/neurodivergence #remus lupin critical

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sweetbillwriting · 4 months ago

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In The Dead of Night

NINE

Characters: AU Eric played by Bill Skarsgård from The Crow (2024)

Setting: This story is set in A WHOLE OTHER WORLD than the movie. Shelley isn't a part of this story. Eric will be different from the movie, especially because I haven't seen the movie.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

Notes: I have STILL not seen the movie because it hasn't premiered here yet!

“I just think about him a lot. I'm sorry, I don't have the right to do that; I haven't even met him; I just believe I would have really liked him…”

I sat opposite Lotti by her little table with Eric's photo albums in front of us. Sneakily, I had put back the photos I've stolen because I didn't need them anymore.

I shouldn't have been there; I was lying to her in the most awful way, but I also went behind Eric's back to find out things he didn't want to tell me. I had the answers right there, and my curiosity took over.

“You know, I think he would have liked you too. You have a curiosity he would have liked. You feel comfortable with yourself, but with optimism and creativity. He would have liked that,” Lotti said with a smile. She had a good day today and talked about Eric with a smile. I smiled back at her by her words, but the warmth in my chest was from the memory of hearing Eric say “I love you” to me. He had said it that morning on the phone. I would go to him later that night; he worked late that Saturday, so I didn't have a reason to go to him that early, but I had a key to his apartment, so I didn't need to wait for him.

“Can't you tell me more about him? Why do you think he started to take drugs?”

Lotti looked out through the window and smiled sadly. It felt like she had a need to talk about everything, and I was right; my simple question made her tell me stories I never thought I would hear.

×××

Lotti looked at the little boy in the playroom, through the plexiglas. He wore a striped long-sleeved shirt in green shades and red sweatpants. The clothes were a bit big and looked well-used, probably from other kids social services had rescued from dysfunctional homes. He was two years old but lacked the chubby cheeks other two-year-olds would have but also was disinterested in the toys surrounding him. A white rabbit stuffy lay just in front of him, but he didn't give it a look; he just looked around. A young social worker sat by his side and looked at him with wonder. He looked like a doll with his big green eyes, and he sat just as still with his small hands resting on his thighs.

“He can't stand up yet or crawl, so that's probably why he doesn't play,” said the social worker next to Lotti and her husband Eric. They nodded a little even if something else felt wrong.

“Why can't he do that? Does he have a disability?” Eric asked the social worker and looked at baby Eric again. He hadn't moved an inch.

“No, no. He's healthy. Just a little underweight and some rashes. Ehm… We believe he hasn't left the crib very often. Most of his time had probably been spent alone in the bed-”

“What? Has his mother left him in the crib?” Lotti looked between the social worker and the boy, upset.

"Yes, but that is nothing that will shape him. He's so young, so that's nothing you’ll need to worry about.”

The social worker said it with assurance, even if there wasn't any research on the subject in the 90s.

Lotti nodded but felt a lump in her throat.

"His mother is sentenced to six months in prison for drug trafficking, but we believe she needs help with the boy after that too. She must make changes to be able to get him back.”

Lotti was sure. She didn't need to know any more. She wouldn't leave that boy to his destiny. They had room for one more child in their home, and Eric, her husband, earned enough money as a seller in the technology field. It was a business growing every day, and his salary went up with it. He looked at Lotti with a calming smile. He knew his wife had already made a decision, and he felt the same. They could give the boy the security he never had. He looked at the papers, seeing the boy’s name, the surname they shared. It felt like a sign. He wasn't the religious type, but Eric was a family name, a name passed on with love and respect.

The social secretary opened the door to the room baby Eric was in, and the married couple saw him look towards it with a fast movement. They walked in slowly to him, afraid that their presence would scare him, but he sat the same way and looked at them with big eyes. Carefully, Eric lifted up the boy in his arms, and Lotti moved close to them. His eyes shifted from side to side, looking at them. He looked sad but with a calm curiosity.

“Hey Eric, hey sweetie…” said Lotti. He looked at her the same way, but his eyes gave away so many emotions. Lotti dragged a finger over her cheek, wiping away a tear. For her, it was impossible to think that the boy's mom didn't want to take care of him; he had an aura—a much stronger aura than other kids his age had. It was just something with him. Lotti looked at her husband, who had pulled the boy closer to his chest. Both could feel it in their bones, and they could see in the other's eyes they felt the same thing. This boy was theirs. This boy was theirs, and they would do everything in their power for him to only be theirs and save him from his mother and all the darkness.

×××

Little Eric stood on a chair by the sink next to Lotti. He was quite short for his four years but had a personality bigger than other boys his age, and so lovable Lotti could see how others envied her. He stood and washed the dishes with her and laughed while playing with the bubbles. He always wanted to be close to them, always wanting to help.

“You're so good at this, Eric!” Said Lotti with a laugh when he gave her a completely clean glass. Eric laughed again so she could see the deep dimple in his cheek. She kissed it hard and dragged her fingers through his messy hair. In just a few hours, he would go to his biological mother and then come back to them as a shell again. He never told them what happened at his mother's, and that was what made it harder for them to do something. There was no proof the bruises on his little body were from something else than rough playing, but Lotti knew her boy so well, his games well, and it wasn't bruises from the playground.

Lotti woke up from her thoughts when she heard her other son in the living room. He was playing video games and made sound effects for the game. Eric looked towards the living room, and when Lotti did it too, he waved with his little hand, showing that he wanted them to look at what Robin was doing. He always wanted skin-to-skin contact, so Lotti pulled him up on her hip and carried him out to the living room. Robin gave them a bit of an irritated look but wiped it away when his mom dragged her fingers through his hair.

“Are you winning?”

“Yes!” He screamed proudly, and Lotti giggled at him. She looked at Eric, who didn't seem to find the game amusing, and instead looked out from the living room's big window.

“It's sunny…” he said with a small voice. Lotti often got the feeling he didn't dare to use his full voice, and he almost whispered when he talked.

“Do you want to go out? Should we go out and draw a little?”

Eric nodded and dragged his hand over her neck. He was soon five years old but felt both younger and older at the same time.

They moved out to the back of the house, in the early spring sun. She could see Robin through the window and, at the same time, make the last few hours of Eric's time there the best she could. He sat in her lap, drawing whales and colorful birds. He was great at it and could disappear into it completely, but not today. She knew he knew what would happen soon. How they would put him in the car and drive him to the social service office, where his biological mom would get him. She knew he would cry in panic and how the social worker would need to pull him away from her neck. She knew Linda would look smug when she left with their son, not because he wanted her more, just that she was his mom, whatever they said. She didn't need Eric's love; she just wanted to win.

Lotti knew she would cry the rest of the day and think about what Eric did at his mom's place. She wondered in what state he would come home in. Eric hugged her hand hard in his and looked up at her with his big soulful eyes. They were shining with tears.

“I love you, mommy…”

It was a plea, a cry for help, but she couldn't do anything. She took a deep breath so she wouldn't start crying and hugged his little body against hers.

“I love you too, Eric. My baby, my son... I love you most in the entire world.”

×××

It was the third meeting they have had with Eric's school that year. Becoming a teenager was not easy for him, and it revealed sides in him they hadn't noticed before.

He had been such a calm child, and after he stopped seeing his mother, he also started to feel safe and comfortable in his own skin, but instead of those sides growing in him, other things took over.

While some teenagers became a bit moody, he got depressed and had a hard time getting up from bed in the mornings. When he finally was in school, he couldn't concentrate and did things you should absolutely not do in a classroom. Playing with a lighter and burning things up was his favorite, painting on the walls another. Even if all his teachers saw that he was a nice boy with serious problems, they kicked him out of the classroom, and Eric found himself chain smoking and listening to music that matched his mood. He was lonely. Extremely lonely, so when the wrong sort of people stretched a hand out to him, he was quick with taking it.

“We haven't seen Eric for a week now. If it continues like this, we're forced to call social service,” said the principal and leaned against his desk. Lotti looked at her husband and sighed deeply. It was always heartbreaking to hear about how Eric slowly destroyed his life. She knew it wasn't his fault. His biological mother had probably taken substances while pregnant; he had trauma since his childhood with her, and on top of that, he had such severe panic attacks that he had cried for death.

“Eric is a lovely young man and is really appreciated as a person-”

“So why don't you help him more? The only thing you do is throw him out of the classroom! Why should he go to school when no one wants him here?” Lotti said, upset. The principal gave her husband a look, like he thought he should calm his wife down, but Eric felt the same thing and looked at the principal with an angry look.

“We must think about the other students... You haven't thought about maybe taking Eric to a doctor? To get some help with his... problems?”

Lotti looked down at her hands and sighed deeply. She knew they probably needed to do that, but pulling him away to a doctor felt awful. He didn't need that on top of everything else.

×××

Robin always came home from school alone, even if they had told him to drive his brother home. They had given him a new metallic red Mercedes, and it’d been clear that he would give Eric a ride home. Robin always said Eric wanted to go home by himself, and their parents didn't know what to think. Eric liked being alone, but it was a long way home. Lotti looked at Robin disappear to his bedroom with two girls laughing while she sat down by the window. She worried the whole day for Eric and how the medications would affect him. He was such a sweet boy, and she didn't want to destroy that with all the pills he had been prescribed.

She smiled a little when she saw him come walking. He looked like a black raincloud in his black zip hoodie, black jeans, black hair, and black eyeliner around his eyes. He carried his khaki backpack on one shoulder, full of pins from different bands and motifs made to provoke. Still, the kids on the street jump around him. Eric smiled a little while they tried to impress him with their skateboards and MP3 players. Lotti got warm in her chest. It was just something really special with him, and everyone liked him.

“Hey mom!” He shouted when he came in through the door.

"Hey, honey,” answered Lotti and walked out to the hallway to meet him. He had pulled off his hoodie and surprised her with a yellow t-shirt, a sex pistol t-shirt, and he had put his converse neatly on the shoe rack.

He gave her a hug, like he always did when he came home and Lotti took his hand. They needed to talk but were interrupted by Robin's laugh. He came down with his two girlfriends, and Lotti let go of Eric's hand to not embarrass him in front of the older girls. They giggled when they saw him, and he got red in the cheeks and ears.

“Hey Eric,” said one of the girls, and the both of them giggled. Robin rolled his eyes.

“Don't forget to come home for dinner,” said Lotti to her oldest son while her younger son stood looking down on the floor.

“Yeah, yeah!” He answered and opened the door for the girls. Just before he closed it, both Lotti and Eric heard one of the girls say, excited:

“Your brother is so fucking cute!”

Lotti looked at her youngest son, who smiled embarrassed but tried to hide it from his mother. She smiled at him, amused. It was true; he was cute, and she knew he would be more than that one day. She wished she didn't need to have the talk she needed to have with him—let him bask in the girl’s words—but instead she needed to take him to the kitchen, where his medications stood in a row.

“So this is for your ADD, this is the antidepressants, these you can take if you have anxiety, these are for the OCD…” Lotti looked at a note while pointing at the medications in front of them. Eric looked at the medications and dragged his hand over a bruise on his neck he had told his parents was from his karate training. He saw something else than his mom did while looking at the pills.

“You can have them here in the kitchen, in a cabinet-”

Eric gave her a disliking look.

“Robin's friends are always here digging around; can't I just have it in my room?” He said and continued to drag his hand over the bruise. Lotti looked at her son. He was a trustworthy young man, and she trusted him with her life.

“Okay, but you must take them every day.”

Eric nodded, taking the medications in his hands, and walked up the stairs. He would take them every day, but also take more and more for every day.

×××

“That doctor… I can't understand why he felt it was a good idea to give a fourteen-year-old so many medications… But also…” Lotti sighed and looked down at the pictures of Eric. “I can't understand how I thought it was a good idea for him to take care of it all himself. I forgot he wasn't my own flesh and blood so many times…”

I sat in silence for a while, until Lotti sighed.

“But what happened then? I guess you noticed he had taken them all?”

Lotti nodded.

“Yes, and we didn't get him any more medications. He tried to tell us he wouldn't do it again, but we weren't that stupid this time. Then I kinda... Forgot about it all?” Lotti looked shameful. “You must understand, Eric was such a lovely young man with me and others around; I kind of forgot he actually didn't feel well, or maybe I didn't want to believe so? He was just sweet all the time, so we didn't notice he fixed his own drugs instead.”

“Like what?”

“First I think it was weed, then he started with ecstasy and amphetamine... I don't really know when he started to take opiates.”

It was all so sad. They had wanted to give him everything, but his background caught up with him. He had inherited the addiction gene and was also traumatized by abuse. He didn't have a chance. His anxiety had taken over his life, and he still was fighting so hard.

I looked at Lotti while she dried her tears with her floral napkin. I wanted to tell her that the person she loves the most was alive and quite happy, but I didn't dare. I didn't know how that would affect her, and I didn't want to create fights with either Robin or Eric. It was both their choice, and I wanted to give them both respect.

“Did he take drugs all the time after that?”

Lotti looked up at me again and made a loud exhalation. It probably took all her power to talk about Eric, but she continued anyway.

“No, he had a girlfriend that got him to stop, Felice, but when the relationship started to go south, he also felt a need for drugs. And then… With Simone, everything got so much worse.” I looked at Lotti with big eyes. I could feel a stir of anger in my stomach when I thought about Simone, but also jealousy, it was hard thinking about Eric with another woman.

“She broke his heart. Eric was a sensitive boy—so sensitive, and she didn't take his mental health problems seriously. She didn't understand where his addiction came from, so she broke up with him. The next I hear...” Lotti took a break and swallowed hard. “The next…” She swallowed hard again, but the tears had gathered in her eyes and would spill over even if she did everything in her power not to cry. I took her hand in mine, and she let herself cry silently.

“He had overdosed. Heroine. My boy… My little boy…” she cried. My heart beated hard in my chest, and my throat burned like I had swallowed a match. It was awful that she believed he was dead.

“When was this?” I asked carefully.

“Soon three years ago.”

I nodded slowly. It must have been around the same time she had been through her accident, so it was easy to fool her, but that was also what made it even worse. She had also lost her husband around the same time. Why did they do this to Lotti?

×××

The full moon looked at us while we made out. Big and round, it stared at us just like in my dreams, but this time we weren't alone. We sat outside on a cold autumn night after having danced at The Pulse. Four of his friends sat and looked at us while we made out on a teeter-totter on the playground. We had run around there like two kids while his friends passed around a joint.

I had his bomber jacket on top of my own coat while he just wore an oversized t-shirt with a big picture of Courtney Love in a thin neglige. Even if he had so few clothes on, I put my cold hands on his stomach to touch his skin and muscles.

“He's just skinny!” Shouted Jackie towards us, and both me and Eric looked at him amused. Eric dragged me closer to him so he could stuff his nose in my hair and breathe in, and I dragged my hands to his naked back.

“Should we go home?” He whispered, and I nodded. I wanted him to myself now.

“Do you know she stalked you?” Shouted Jackie just as loudly as he had done before. Eric looked at him with a smirk, like it was a bad joke. I, on the other hand, gave Jackie a worried look and swallowed hard.

“Yeah, she had seen you around and begged me for your address. It wasn't a coincidence you met her outside the store.”

Eric looked at me with a confused smirk. He didn't seem to believe Jackie, and neither would I, if it hadn’t been about me.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. We're going home now,” said Eric, who helped me off the teeter before he stood up himself. While doing that, his sleeve rode up, and I could see the aggressively purple bruise on his upper arm. I saw that Nick looked at it too, but I looked away when he looked at me.

“It's nice seeing you together. Seeing you with a girl. It suits you,” said Nick in a brotherly way, but there was a hint of worry there too. Eric lit up and pulled me close to him. He looked at me with big eyes.

“Yeah. It feels like a dream sometimes.” He didn't let me go with his eyes while his friends started to ‘oh and ah’ and whistle as a joke. Eric smirked at them but then lifted me up easily so I had my legs around his waist.

“Let's go home.”

×××

It was all so good between us, except when his anxiety crept on him in the night, like something heavy lay on his chest, and he couldn't get it away. I could see him touch his neck, like that was the solution. I dragged his hand away and let him lay against my chest and breathe deeply.

“Tell me. What do you think about?”

Eric laid quiet, like he expected the question to disappear if he just ignored it.

“Talk to me, please.”

“I don't know,” he said lowly. “Just shit. Old memories.”

“What kind of memories?” I wanted him to tell me about his childhood with his own words, but he was quiet again.

“It can help to talk about it.”

“I don't know what to say,” he said and shrugged his shoulders. “It's just bullshit things.”

He was just the same as he was when he was four years old. I wondered if he had told anyone what had actually happened to him as a child. I dragged my fingers through his hair until he suddenly talked with a whisper, like he didn't dare to say it out loud.

“It was my own fault... I should have said something, but... I guess I was ashamed."

“You don't need to be ashamed; it wasn't your fault.”

My comment could reveal I knew more than I should, but he didn't say anything about it; he just sighed deeply and laid a hand over his face.

“Eric? You were a child; it's okay to talk about it. You don't have any responsibility for this.”

He nodded a little but didn't remove his hand, so I moved him away from my chest and laid down so our faces were at the same height.

I waited for him to say something, and at last he did.

“I had the best parents... My foster parents. I love…” he swallowed hard and looked down at the sheets. “They were the best, but my biological mother... Eh fuck,” he sat up in bed and laid his hands over his face. I didn't move, hoping he would lay down when he was ready.

“She was just fucked up.” He shrugged his shoulders like that was all.

“Fucked up, how?” I asked and dragged my hand over his naked back. Eric put his hands on his head and dragged them back to his neck in an uncomfortable manner.

“Eh fuck Della, I don't want to talk about this.”

I nodded a little and pulled lightly on his forearm.

“Okay, of course. Come now, baby, let's sleep…”

He laid down on my chest again, and I hugged his head in my arms. I was disappointed he didn't want to tell me, and at the same time, I worried so much about him. It wasn't healthy to carry around such things in his chest without processing them. I also felt the bad conscience grow in my tummy. I knew so much about him but pretended to know nothing so he would tell me more.

Eric fell asleep after having listened to my heart for a couple minutes; he didn't seem to notice it beating harder with anxiety. I was his girlfriend, but the only thing I did was lie. I wanted to be honest; I wanted our relationship to be true, but for that to happen, I needed to tell him I had stalked him, I had fooled his mom and brother, and I had lied to him. He would never forgive me for that.

I pressed my cheek against the top of his head and breathed in his minty shampoo. I tried to calm myself with deep breaths, but my tears slipped down in his black hair and disappeared. I wished it could be as easy for my lies to disappear.

×××

I could see that all of my girlfriends looked at Eric with big eyes, even my sister, Desiree.

We were out dancing at a club, celebrating Halloween, and getting tipsy on tequila shots. Eric was one of the few guys in the club that had some sort of Halloween costume. He had let me do his makeup, and we matched each other, with black tears streaming down our cheeks, and he also had my black lipstick on. He did what he wanted and didn't even think about how people would react.

“I think you need a glass of water!” He said to me over the music and laughed at my disoriented look. “I’ll get one for you!”

Eric stood up and walked away to the bar. He towered over most people, and it made it easy for me to see where he went. I looked at my friends who also looked after him. He wore a dark gray tank top in a loose model that showed off his arms and muscular chest. He paired it with bleached jeans that sat baggy on his long legs.

“He's hot as fuck!” Nessa said to me loudly over the music even if her boyfriend sat next to her. I giggled and laid my head against the couch. I was a bit too drunk, but I had the luxury to know I had a boyfriend who would be able to carry me home.

“He is, but... He looks like a player! Are you sure he is a good guy?” asked Desiree and looked at me seriously.

“He's not a player! I promise. Don't you notice how shy he is?”

Eric had said hello to everyone but kept mostly quiet while we talked. He just nodded a little with a smile when he agreed with something.

“Are you sure he's shy? It can just be a way to win you over,” said Nessa's boyfriend and took a sip of his beer. I gave him an irritated, pointed look.

“You think he has played shy for three months? He's shy! Even if he looks like a bad boy!” I said with a drunken giggle. Desiree shook her head amused and also giggled. We fell quiet when Eric came back, carrying a glass of water for me and a beer for himself. In my toxication, I crawled into his lap with a giggle and kissed his face several times. I was so proud to have such a hot, sweet boyfriend. I could see jealous eyes on us. Eric smirked at me but then pressed his lips against mine.

“What's your training routine?” Paulina's boyfriend asked suddenly. I had seen him looking at Eric a lot, but I hadn't put so much thought into what it meant, but now I knew. I looked at Eric, who played with my short leather skirt with an uncomfortable expression. He was probably not so comfortable answering that because he trained a bit too much. It was sometimes many hours a day.

“No, you don't really know, right? You just work out when you want to,” I said so he wouldn't need to answer the question. He looked at me with big eyes, then smiled.

“Yeah, it's not scheduled, so I don't know,” said he with a shoulder shrug.

×××

We became even more intoxicated, except Eric, who drank as much as the other guys but was completely unfazed. We were outside of the club, ready to go to the next destination, but we needed to wait on Nessa, who puked in an alley with Desiree as help. Paulina and Amanda looked between me and Eric, leaning against the building further away, closer to the alley.

“He's super hot... Isn't that hard? I don't mean this in a bad way, but... He's a really hot guy, while you're more... Cute?” said Amanda.

I scoffed and looked at Eric, who had pulled up his tank top to show his abs for the men around him. It was silly behavior and probably nothing they would have done if they weren't drunk.

“You mean I'm not hot enough for him?”

“I don't mean it like that! Just that you maybe don't match?”

I shook my head in disbelief but also wondered how she would continue the conversation, but instead both of my friends just looked at him when he laughed showing off his abs. I was so proud of him. So, so proud of that amazing human, but now I felt worried and jealous. Because of Demi's reaction to him, I had started to believe I was the only one seeing his beauty, but I was so wrong; even the guys stood and gawked at his body. I had been naive, and now I got worried some other girl was around the corner, prepared to steal my man.

I left Paulina and Amanda without saying anything and walked up to my tall boyfriend. He was the tallest in the group. He was the fittest in the group. The hottest of them too. I wasn't the hottest of my friends; I wasn't even the tallest.

“I'm tired,” I whined and pushed my face against his chest, acting like I was more drunk than I was. Eric looked down at me with a silly smile and put my hair behind my ear with soft fingers.

“Do you want to go home?” He asked and lifted my chin so he could look me in the eyes. I pouted and nodded like a sour five-year-old. He played with my pouting underlip with his thumb in a teasing way and made the same face himself.

“Then we go home, yeah?”

I nodded but lifted my arms, and he lifted me up like it was obvious what I wanted. I could see my girlfriends look at me with some sort of envy. Maybe they just wanted their boyfriends to be more like Eric, or they wanted him. I didn't care, the only thing I knew was that I would never let him go. He was mine.

×××

How we ended up on the floor I couldn't remember. I could only remember what I saw right then and there. Eric had my naked leg in a tight grip, slung over his shoulder, while snapping his hips fast. His girthy cock pushed into me fast and hard and I could hear myself moaning in a pathetic way; sometimes I even mixed in his name, something I've never done with any guy before. When I looked up at him, I could see his dark gaze and open mouth. I could see a sweaty chest and abs and a v-line carved with the sharpest knife. He kissed my calf while slapping his hips against mine. He let me often lay down because I couldn't match his strength and stamina, but he didn't complain; it felt more like he fucked me even harder because he wanted to tease me.

“Can I come inside of you?” He said it between his pants, and I just nodded. He had learned he didn't need to do much to get me to come when he had transformed me into a pile of just lifeless body parts, he just pressed down with two fingers over my clit, like it was a button, and rubbed it a few times, then I came together with him.

×××

I really needed to start to work out again. Even if I hadn't really done any heavy lifting, I had pain in my thighs the next morning. I was happy my parents had been nice and had taken Odin for a night; in exchange, they could meet my boyfriend. I looked at my boyfriend snoring loudly with an open mouth. He always snored loudly when he had been drinking alcohol. Sometimes he even woke me up. I was nervous about bringing him to my parents. I knew he would be the best boy but I didn't know if my parents would be as well behaved. I don’t even think they had seen someone with as many tattoos as Eric. They would probably be uncomfortable but I hoped they at least would be nice.

I laid my nose against his neck even if he was snoring and slung a leg over his hip. I just wanted to be close, and I hoped the sight of my pussy so close to his cock would make him perk up when he was awake. I smirked to myself, lost in filthy thoughts, so I didn't even hear the entrance door open.

If I knew, I would have jumped up and closed the door to the bedroom. If I knew that Robin had taken his own key to surprise me early in the morning, I would have suggested Eric should take a run in my neighborhood. The last thing I would do was lay naked with his brother, who started to get hard in his sleep.

I thought I heard the sound of keys but waved it away as nothing. Instead, I dug down my nose even further down in Eric's neck and let my pussy push against his hardened cock. I knew it was okay I did that; he just likes being woken up with sex.

“What the fuck?” I heard Robin say behind me in such a confused voice that I didn't even recognize his voice. I turned to the door and met his blue eyes that looked at us upset. First I couldn't move, even if he could see so much of our naked bodies, and when I started to realize what was actually happening, I moved away from Eric and covered us both up with covers.

“Oh my god, oh my god... Robin, it wasn't meant…” I whined and put my hands over my face in shame.

“You're fucking with him??” Said Robin, upset and waved with his arms, so he accidentally waved down a vase standing on my vanity table. It was crushed into hundreds of small pieces, but it also crushed Eric's sleep, and he looked up, confused. He sat up, exposing his whole naked torso, and it made Robin look away, like he thought the view was disgusting. Eric looked at Robin in silence than at me in confusion.

“What, what, what is this?” He stuttered. His big green eyes were full of worry but also hurt. He already knew I had done something stupid that would break his trust in just as many pieces as the vase.

#bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard #fan fiction #writing #story #bill skarsgård writing #bill skarsgård fanfiction #fiction #the crow #eric

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kenny-the-ken · 2 years ago

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Imagine being high school sweethearts with kenny and quickly trying to have sex without getting caught because he’s so horny lmao like hes begging for some head round the back of the school lol

Don't Be Shy

I love love LOVE this request!!! Part 2 of YOU + ME and My Brother's Best Friend will hopefully be up by later tonight or tomorrow!! Please keep the requests coming guys, writing these are keeping me sane at the moment, the terrible twos are no joke 😭💀 AGED UP CHARACTERS!!

"Baby, please? Not even a quickie?" Kenny whined at you, as you continued to walk down the school corridor, shaking your head.

"No way, Ken. After school, yes of course, but in school where we could get caught? Nuh-uh!" You replied and he frowned, pouting his lips at you and trying his best to give you puppy dog eyes.

"But watching you in Physical Education babe, god and the fact you swore that skort too, it's so short and your boobs and ass looked incredible! Please?" And he was back once again on his tangent of begging and pleading with you, and he was starting to wear you down, and he knew it.

"Okay, what about, we don't have to have sex, but maybe even a quick blowie out the back where no one is during class times?" Kenny asked and you paused for a moment, seriously considering it.

"I'll think about it." Was all you said, before giving him a quick kiss on the lips and making your way to class.

He had a free period while you were in art, and having most of your work done, you decided to toy with your overly horny boyfriend.

Y/n: Hey Ken, can I ask you a question?

Kenny 🧡: Yeah baby, what's up?

Y/n: So I bought some new lingerie a few days back and I only got round to trying it on yesterday evening, I took a few pics for you, I just wanted your opinion on them.

Attachment: 5 images

Kenny opened them and his jaw dropped to his feet, you were so good at taking lude shots of yourself, and you knew this would drive him crazy, his cock was rock solid, and that's exactly what you wanted.

Kenny 🧡: I think I want you to wait for me in the disabled access toilet on the first floor.

And you smirked scanning his message before putting up your hand and asking to be dismissed to use the bathroom.

Unbeknownst to you, when you got there the door was locked, and you tried the handle a few times, before the person on the inside unlocked it, opened it enough for you to be pulled in by their hand and the door was locked again as Kenny pinned you to it.

"You think you're funny, hmm? Sending me those pictures of you looking like you were just waiting for me to come in and tear them off you and remind you who this pussy belongs to." He said, his hand going straight up your school skirt and right to your wet panties.

You let out a small moan at the contact and Kenny slowly pushed you to the floor on your knees, unbuckling his belt and pulling his jeans and boxers down, his large cock springing free and sitting against his stomach.

"Suck." Was all he said, grabbing your hair that was tied in a high pony and moving your face closer to his dick. You grabbed it with your hand, your tongue licking the bead of precum off the tip before hollowing your cheeks and taking him as best you could into your mouth.

Fuck this was just what Kenny needed, he'd been longing for you, your mouth, your pussy, anything as long as it was you. And his moans were deep and breathy, as you bobbed your head, staring up at him with a gaze of innocence.

"So pretty, Princess. Looking so innocent with your lips wrapped around my cock." Kenny moaned out, his hips bucking forward causing you to choke slightly, and he smirked.

"What's wrong, can't take it baby?" He teased before setting a quick pace with his hips bucking forward, you could feel his cock hitting the back of your throat, saliva and precum running down your chin, your hands on Kenny's thighs as you swallowed around him, earning a strangled moan from him.

"Fuck, your throat feels so good, what a little slut you really are." Kenny groaned once more, gasping as your hands cupped his balls, massaging them gently, your cheeks hollowing around him, sucking as best as you could, your eyes watering.

"Gonna make you look like a mess, slut." He moaned out, his hips quickening and his thrusts starting to become sloppy.

"Getting close, baby, gonna come in your mouth and you're gonna swallow everything I give you, understand?" Kenny asked, earned a hum from yourself in response as his grip tightened on your hair, moving your head quicker to meet his rough thrusts.

"F-Fuck, y/n!" Kenny moaned out, his vision going white as he came in your mouth, his back arching slightly, your head still bobbing up and down his over sensitive cock, milking every drop of cum from him, and swallowing, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you smirked up at him.

His hand cupped your face, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. "You have no idea the things I'm gonna do to you when we get back to my house." His voice was deep, and he offered you his hand to help you up, pulling you into a warm embrace.

"Thank you, baby. I love you." Kenny whispered into your ear, placing a kiss on your forehead before slapping you on the ass.

"Now get that pretty ass of yours back to class before we get in trouble." He said, and you laughed, a smile on your face, kissing your boyfriend before unlocking the door, sneaking out one after the other as Kenny walked you to your class, leaving you off with a kiss.

"I'll meet you at lunchtime." He said with a wink, before heading back to his free period.

Your teacher inquired as to why you had been gone for so long as you made up an excuse, saying you felt like you were going to be sick, but you and Kenny both knew that was was the furthest thing from the truth.

#kenny mccormick #kenny mccormick smut #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny south park #kyle south park #stan south park #stan marsh #eric cartman #south park #kyle brovlofski #south park x reader #kenny x reader #sp x reader #x reader #south park fandom #fanfic

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anistarrose · 9 months ago

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A while ago I saw a post that started out wishing Lilith's aroace identity got addressed onscreen, and I was like "yeah I totally agree, a voice acted stream reveal is many steps above 'some writer tweeting it after the show ends' but it would've still been far more exuberant and impactful to see it in the show." But then OP continued by saying there's nothing in Lilith's arc that reflects aromantic experiences, and look, I'm biased as the Lilith icon person, but like. Your experiences are not universal.

And... that's okay! My experiences aren't universal either. But as an aroace, I do have to say: Lilith does reflects one type of aroace experience, and that's the chronically ill aroace experience in particular.

It's the way that she's an adult who needs care from others, but first moves back in with her sister, and then moves back in with her parents, instead of moving in with or seeking out a romantic partner.

It's the way she grapples with independence and individualism, struggling to unravel "what she wants" from "what she needs in terms of support" and from "what society revolving around the Emperor's Coven has tricked her into conflating with self-worth".

It's the way she looks at her reflection and asks: "Am I broken?"

Not all aroaces are disabled and chronically ill. Not all aroaces have (or want) intense platonic friendships or close sibling relationships, and not are able to heal from trauma by living with their family. These are all arguments for more variety in aroace representation, to say nothing of a-spec representation as a whole — that just doesn't mean aroace characters with these traits don't represent anyone.

And this is also a chance to touch on a distinction that I feel isn't drawn often enough when talking about queer subtext of any form: I don't think Lilith, if you're only looking at the show itself, is a strongly or undeniably aroace-coded character. But she's absolutely a character whose arc is enhanced upon learning that she's aroace.

So don't get me wrong: I would like more than this. Lilith is like a baby step in terms of a-spec representation in animation — a meaningful step, but a small one. But for a series where each season except the first was heavily impacted (read: compressed) by the cancellation, and the unaffected first season was also the only one Lilith spent as an extremely polarizing villain, you can see how the crew could've gone in with extremely conscientious intentions and wound up having to make a tough call, right?

I don't even necessarily think they made the right call, I'm just willing to give them the benefit of the doubt that they tried. It feels like they put more than just some performative 30 seconds of thought into imagining how a disabled aroace with serious self-worth issues would interact with the world and improve herself — or, at least realized after some experience writing Lilith that being aroace fit her, and let that inform much of her Season 2 arc.

Like, maybe I'm personally extra desperate for disabled a-specs in media, but honestly? Lilith is a well-written one in all aspects but the lack of an onscreen "I've never felt attraction to someone" — and you don't have to agree with me, but I'll die on the hill that that all counts for something.

No hate to OP — if you know what post I'm vagueing about, be chill and normal about it, please. It's fine for some people not to feel represented, and put their thoughts out there — but it also seems that I, as a person who feels very represented, should put out some of my own thoughts for balance.

#the owl house #lilith clawthorne #toh meta

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wild-magic-oops · 2 months ago

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I think the Minrathous vs Treviso choice is a very good choice where you don't have an obvious winner but it rather forces you to choose what kind of decision-maker your Rook is. The fact that one character locks their romance but another doesn't sadly ruins that to a huge degree but that's not the point here.

Both choices have good arguments to back them up, but people who chose Treviso AND then shout with their whole chest that the choice was super obvious either didn't pay attention, or didn't consider things thoroughly.

Let's look at the arguments:

"Minrathous has a magical laser beam!" yeah and someone needs to operate that. The country has a serious cult problem that has infiltrated all levels of society. What makes you think they wouldn't have already disabled the most obvious defence before the dragon even appeared?? Nothing, that's correct. So magic laser beam is useless actually.

"Minrathous is the most powerful city in Thedas, it should be able to defend itself" No, it's the capital of (one of) the most powerful country in Thedas. Tevinter's defenses would be concentrated in conflict zones like the borders, not in their capital where they're not expecting an attack to come out of the blue. Treviso meanwhile has already been occupied, escape channels and logistics have been established bc of that occupation. People there should be a little more prepared for a disaster and evacuation than Minrathous bc the pandemic should've taught you all that: "having the means" =/= "doing it right" or even "being prepared". Having less means but being prepared would get you better results than having more means and being absolutely not prepared for shit.

"Treviso doesn't have an army" Neither does Minrathous most likely bc again - the actual active army would be in the conflight zones, not in the capital. Minrathous has a bunch of corrupt templars as police who would be useless against a dragon in the first place. And mages, some powerful ones yes, many of which probably Venatori, so that's actually counter-productive. And the others would be saving their own asses instead of helping. The few that would choose to fight would be scattered and disorganized, so not much help either. Minrathous's defenses don't mean shit, it turns out. And they definitely don't mean anything for Docktown.

And most importantly - what Neve tells the player. The dragon attack has the potential to lead to a coup which will be tremendously horrible for the whole of Thedas and significantly hinder the fight against the gods (at worst). The Venatori cult which is the gods' puppets getting unrestricted control over (one of) the most powerful country in Thedas would be catastrophic and the consequences and victims would be far greater than that of a dragon attacking a single city, which Treviso is. So the point of the choice is not which city seems more capable, bc both are ultimately not prepared.

The choice imo is about whether your Rook makes a more emotional decision (of sort) with the best of intentions of saving the city which seems to need it more bc they're already fucked up by an occupation and don't have defenses (Treviso, a good choice) OR Rook prioritizes considering the bigger picture and choosing to prevent what could be the worst case scenario while also recognizing that nobody is prepared for an attack like that no matter what, and that both cities would be fucked and many will die (Minrathous, a good choice)

Bioware finally gave us a good tough choice which also helps players shape their Rook's personality as a leader better and some of you all are out there shouting with your whole chests that you don't like to consider choices at all. Maybe they're right to baby-fy things after all...

#dragon age the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #datv #datv spoilers #dragon age #da fandom just... we are so back (unfortunatelly)#minrathous #treviso #“don't post hot takes” promise successfully failed #da meta #ig #I wrote all that for maybe 2 people to read instead of getting work done #goooo me lmao #my posts

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lesbicosmos-writes · 1 month ago

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i have 7 wips yet i wrote an entirely new fic woah what a surprise

anyway, my first arcane fic!!

pairing: jayce & viktor (can be read as platonic or romantic but there are hints at viktor having feelings)

rating: G

summary: Viktor was so used to people either just ignoring him or treating him like he constantly needed help. They never asked if he needed it, and it always felt condescending, as if just because his leg didn’t work properly, he couldn’t navigate life on his own – despite the fact he had literally fought his way out of the undercity and into the academy alone. But then there was Jayce, who on top of being a brilliant mind and a sweet person, treated his disability with genuine care, and asked if he needed help, and knew he was more than capable of so many things but just needed a little extra hand sometimes. Viktor loved him.

notes: since it's my first thing for the fandom, pls lmk if anything seems ooc i always wanna try and get these as in character as possible 😭

on ao3!!

oh but you're good to me, baby

No one had ever loved Viktor like Jayce Talis did.

From the day they met, there had always been a strange sort of spark between them, a companionship and an understanding despite the differences in both of their lives. Obviously, it wasn’t always understanding – sometimes Jayce would make unintentionally ignorant comments about the Undercity and its people that Viktor would have to educate him on, and quite often Viktor would intentionally insult Pilties and Jayce would…mostly agree with him, actually. He wouldn’t outwardly deny most of them even if he didn’t share the same view, anyway; he knew Viktor absolutely had a right to hate them for the conditions he had to grow up in.

Over six years, they’d become such close partners that it was rare that one would be seen without the other – except on the occasion Jayce had to give a speech to the council, or attend one of their fancy galas. Jayce was Piltover’s golden boy, and while both he and Viktor were angry that Viktor rarely got any credit for his work on Hextech, Viktor didn’t exactly want the level of attention Jayce seemed to be constantly getting. He wanted to be remembered for his work, not praised like some sort of god. He could tell Jayce felt the same – he didn’t particularly enjoy being the centre of attention, but he could cope with it better than Viktor. He always was the more outwardly social of the two.

With the way Jayce was constantly celebrated and showered with attention, it was nice to have days like the one they were currently having – both in their lab, working on their current Hextech project, doing what both of them loved most and feeling like they were still just barely graduated students of the academy sneaking around doing experiments Professor Heimerdinger wouldn’t approve of.

Viktor looked up from his desk, and just sat watching Jayce for a few minutes. He was on the opposite side of the lab, standing in front of the chalkboard which was so full of notes that no one except for the two of them would ever be able to decipher what they were referring to. Jayce had one arm folded, the other with his chin in his hand in concentration, mumbling to himself as he tried to figure out an equation.

In his staring, he found himself thinking back to their early days as partners, only a few months after they managed to prove Hextech could actually work. They’d been given permission by the council to continue their studies and experiments, and were given a proper laboratory in the academy in which they could conduct them.

The day they moved into the lab had been stressful; moving books and papers and equipment that had previously been in Jayce’s old workshop – which the Kirammans had kindly been keeping safe for him. The constant moving had put a lot of physical strain on Viktor’s leg, and he all but collapsed into one of the lab benches when they finally made the last journey of boxes.

He’d worn a compression brace on his right leg for as long as he could remember. He rarely bothered to take it off unless he was showering, or it needed to be cleaned. Since it was under his trousers, he didn’t have to bother taking it off before bed every night. And it was usually comfortable enough.

It did tend to become irritating when he’d been on his feet for a while, though. It became sweaty and overwhelming and by that point, he’d rather take the pain.

He leaned down to lift up the leg of his trousers to take the brace off, but immediately winced as he leaned forwards, pain now spiking in his lower back. He had the cane, which definitely helped, but even with it, he often still got pretty severe back pain due to his uneven walking. He couldn’t escape. He hated that it was something he was used to.

“Do you want a hand with that?” Jayce asked, putting down the scissors he was using to cut open one of the boxes and walking over to him.

“No, no, I can manage,” Viktor replied, a little too harshly.

He was too used to people thinking he was broken and couldn’t do simple things.

“I know you can, V,” Jayce said, not offended or surprised by his tone in the slightest, “but it’s hurting your back.”

“It’s not,” Viktor insisted.

“I could hear you wincing from over there. I can help if you want.”

Viktor gave in, leaning back on the bench and giving his back a little relief.

“Thank you,” Viktor sighed.

Jayce knelt on the ground next to him, lifting his trouser leg up and gently pulling the brace down his leg. Viktor didn’t think they’d ever been so physically close before, but he couldn’t say he minded it.

“You didn’t have to do all of that heavy lifting, you know? I could’ve done it,” Jayce said.

“I would have felt useless if I was just sitting around here all day.”

“You aren’t useless,” Jayce reassured.

“I know. I was fine, though. I’m very used to feeling like this at the end of the day, Jayce. It’s kind of what comes with chronic pain.”

“If you’re sure. Obviously I know you know your limits better than I do.”

“I am. Believe me, moving helps sometimes.”

“Okay. I’m always here if you need a hand though, yeah? You just gotta ask.”

“Thank you.”

Viktor was so used to people just ignoring him; and if they did acknowledge him they usually seemed intent on helping, though they didn’t ask if he needed it. He’d been approached by strangers while out in public who put their arm around him to try and stabilise him when his limp was more pronounced, and he was leaning on his cane more than usual. He knew at heart they were just trying to help, but it always felt condescending, as if just because his leg didn’t work properly, he couldn’t navigate life on his own – despite the fact he had literally fought his way out of the undercity and into the academy alone. To have someone like Jayce who genuinely cared, who wanted to help, who asked if he needed it and only gave it if he did, made his heart warm. He was very glad the man wasn’t exiled from Piltover those few months ago.

“Do you have to do this every night?” Jayce asked, handing the elasticated fabric back to Viktor.

“I don’t take it off to sleep often. It’s not the most uncomfortable thing in the world, it’s just…getting itchy right now.”

“I didn’t even realise you were meant to keep it on for so long.”

“I only really need it on when I’m putting pressure on it, it’s not like it’s on there to help it heal or anything. I wish it could do that. But, it’s effort to take it off so I usually just don’t, unless it’s really necessary, like washing.”

“Well if you ever want me to do this again, just say, yeah? Your room’s right next to mine, it really won’t be a big deal. I’ll always help you. Only if you want it, of course.”

That was the other part of the deal they struck with the council – while Jayce’s place at the Academy had not been reinstated, he had been given a room there next door to Viktor’s in order to be closer to their lab rather than several blocks away.

After that day, it became almost a routine. Viktor still didn’t take the brace off all the time, but he did so more often, and Jayce would help him if it was getting uncomfortable. At first it started as something that only really happened if the pain in Viktor’s back was bad, but then it became a sort of ritual and Jayce was always the one who did it – even when the pain started getting somehow worse a year or so later and he had to switch from the compression brace to a structured metal one that he had to wear over his trousers and take off every night. It was more complex to operate than what was previously an extravagant sock, but Jayce did it anyway. And it was never out of obligation, or because he thought Viktor couldn’t, or because he got some strange selfish sense of charity from doing so, but because Jayce genuinely cared and wanted to.

It also never felt like a big thing; it was never the topic of conversation during their nightly routine, it just became what they did every night. They would talk about other things, whether recounting the findings of the day in terms of their experiments or gossiping about other students at the academy they had met on occasion, or recalling childhood memories. Viktor showed him the toy boat he’d built when he was a child and kept in a drawer ever since, and Jayce was enamoured by the mechanics of it. Viktor could also tell he was intrigued by the engineering of the brace itself, albeit fairly simple in comparison to the technology they were working on – ever the scientist, was Jayce Talis.

After Jayce had finished figuring out his equation on the chalkboard – and loudly cheered when he finally worked it out, since he’d been trying for a few days now – the two of them decided to turn in for the night. It was getting late, and Jayce had to go and update Councillor Medarda and Professor Heimerdinger about their current progress early the next day.

So, they headed out of the lab, saying goodnight to Sky – a girl Viktor had known when he was a child who had become their assistant a few years prior – before heading towards Viktor’s room.

As usual, Jayce sat on the chair at the foot of the bed while Viktor sat on the edge, and Jayce leaned down to undo the buckles on the back of Viktor’s leg and slide the brace off his foot. It was always so strangely intimate, but neither of them had ever really brought it up. They’d become such close friends over the last six years, it was almost as though they’d known each other all their lives, so nothing was weird or too much for either of them. By now, he wouldn’t have it any other way. There was no Hextech without both him and Jayce. There was no Viktor without Jayce, anymore.

He'd been so supportive over the last few years, since Viktor’s mobility started to decline even further. He’d been there when Viktor needed him physically, to hold on to while they walked through the street, but more than that, he’d been there to give Viktor a distraction. They’d achieved their best progress in their science when they were intently focused to stop Viktor from spiralling about everything his condition meant he couldn’t do. Jayce was always there to remind him what he could – that his mind, even when not paired with his partner’s, was utterly brilliant.

“I’ll probably head back to the lab pretty early tomorrow,” Viktor said as Jayce stood the brace up against the bedside table, next to his crutch. “So good luck with the Professor and Councillor Medarda.”

“Thanks. I’m sure it’ll all go great, though. We’re making good development with it.”

“Well that’s definitely good, Mr. Man of Progress,” Viktor teased.

“Shut up. ‘Night, V.”

“Goodnight, Jayce.”

With that, Jayce left the room and closed the door behind him.

Viktor stayed still for a while, just listening. He heard Jayce’s footsteps moving away from his bedroom door, but he was definitely heading back towards the lab, not towards his own room. His guess was confirmed when he heard mumbling. One voice was definitely Jayce, the other Sky. Then, he heard Sky’s lighter footsteps pass his door in the opposite direction.

Jayce had been heading back to the lab late at night often lately, and Viktor knew he was working on something in secret, but every time Viktor had brought it up, Jayce denied it, claiming he was only going back to tidy up before going to bed himself.

Viktor had a bad enough sleep schedule himself to know that most of the time when Jayce’s footsteps finally retreated back down the corridor, far too much time had passed for him to have just been tidying up.

He supposed he would find out eventually. He had enough trust in Jayce that the reason for him keeping it secret wasn’t malicious, or because he was doing anything against their goal with Hextech. So, he tried to clear his mind, changed into his pyjamas and attempted to sleep.

A month or so later, Viktor was sitting at his desk in the lab, his magnifying goggles on as he analysed a hex crystal that was suspended on a small platform. They had successfully stabilised some, but there were strange behaviours in some of them, as if they had more Arcane energy than others. Before they could put the crystals to use in inventions for the public, they had to ensure they had a way of stabilising all of them. Perhaps it was something in the runic patterns-

Viktor’s thoughts were interrupted when the lab door burst open and Jayce came in, beaming. Victor spun around in his chair to face him.

“Are you alright, Jayce? Did something happen down in the forge?”

“No, I just have a surprise for you,” Jayce replied.

“Really? What is it?”

“You’ll see later.”

He refused to say anything else about it, so Viktor got back to work immediately after relaying his current findings to his partner.

It turned out that later meant when they were heading to bed.

“I’ll meet you in your room!” Jayce shouted across the lab before disappearing out into the corridor, dashing towards the forge.

Viktor chuckled, filing away his report with the rest of them, and then headed over to Sky’s desk. She seemed to be poorly masking a giggle.

“Goodnight, Sky,” he said.

“’Night, Viktor. Hope you enjoy whatever it is Jayce has for you,” she smiled.

Viktor nodded and left the lab. It was clear that Sky suspected there was something more going on between him and Jayce, and if Viktor was honest, he didn’t blame her for her assumption. They certainly did act like an old married couple sometimes. And they constantly called each other partners in tones of voices that could easily be implying something more than lab partners. And then there was the whole Jayce going to Viktor’s room every night thing, and wow, did everyone around them think they were together? Funnily enough, Viktor didn’t really think he minded what they thought. Technically they were wrong, but it wasn’t like Viktor himself hadn’t entertained the possibility several times over the years. He simply assumed Jayce wasn’t into men. Which was fine.

Viktor sat himself down on the edge of his bed, awkwardly waiting for Jayce to return. In the meantime, he reached behind himself to unclasp his back brace and remove it, placing it beside his bed. He hated that he had to practically hold himself together with metal and plastic, all because his leg didn’t form correctly in the womb. What would he be doing if he didn’t have his condition? If he had full physical freedom?

He barely entertained the thought. It didn’t matter because it would never happen, unless Hextech managed to create a miracle. But what was the point in imagining anyway, when he had all he ever really wanted in life right in front of him. He was a scientist, using his mind and his inventions to make a difference in people’s lives, even if the effects weren’t totally evident yet in the people he wanted to help the most. And he had a partner he could never even have created in a dream – a man who shared his passions for science and invention and magic and supporting those who needed it.

He hated what he didn’t have, but was more than pleased with what he’d done with what he did.

At that moment, Jayce entered his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

“So, I may have been working on something,” he said, before turning to face Viktor and holding something out to him.

Viktor’s eyes widened as he realised what was in Jayce’s hands – a new leg brace.

“Jayce, what is this?”

“The project I’ve been working on! Sorry I didn’t tell you about it, I wanted it to be a surprise. The brace you’ve got now has got all those confusing buckles and shit, and you’ve told me enough times how uncomfortable it can get. I don’t know how you’re meant to deal with all that on your own when you’re already struggling, but I think I figured it out!”

Jayce reached out, flipping the brace over in Viktor’s hands, revealing something in the centre of it – a bright blue glowing vaguely spherical shape.

“A hexcrystal?”

“Yeah, I know we said we were gonna properly brainstorm ideas for them soon, but I hope you don’t mind I did this one. All you have to do to take it off is take the crystal out! It unclasps itself.”

Jayce demonstrated, plucking the crystal from its mini cage within the structure of the brace, and it instantly opened.

“Wanna try it out? It might need a few tweaks, obviously I’m not the best person to try it out.”

“Of course.”

Jayce smiles, kneeling down beside Viktor to unclasp and take off the old brace, replacing it with the new Hextech-imbued one.

“How’s that?” Jayce asked.

Viktor grabbed his crutch from beside his bed and stood up, pacing around the room a few times. He looked over at Jayce, who was staring expectantly in the same way he always did when they tested out something they both really hoped would work.

“So?”

“I think it’s better than the old one! It’s helping my leg but also, I can barely feel that it’s there,” Viktor noted, looking down at his leg to admire the craftsmanship.

“That’s another one of the features! The brace itself sooths the skin where it sits, so it shouldn’t get as uncomfortable for long-term wear,” Jayce explained.

Viktor looked up at him, a grin growing on his face.

“You, Jayce Talis, are a genius.”

He moved the few steps across the room it took to reach Jayce, and pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you,” he said, practically into Jayce’s shoulder due to their height difference.

“No problem,” Jayce replied, seeming relieved that Viktor liked it. Then he inhaled a little in a panic. “But I don’t want you to think I did this because I don’t wanna help you anymore, it’s not a burden or anything, I just know you don’t particularly like asking for help and it would just make life easier for you and-”

Viktor pulled away from the hug, regaining his balance with his crutch.

“Jayce. I know. Even just the fact you’ve done this for me told me that.”

Jayce smiled. The two of them headed back over to the bed, and Viktor reached down to test the release mechanism. It worked immediately, practically falling off his leg. He laughed a little at the ease of it all, lifting the brace up to really take a look at the details. There was a little cog engraved into the side of it �� not unlike the one that had been the first thing touched by Hextech when they first got it working.

“Sentimental bastard,” Viktor chuckled.

“I thought it was fitting,” Jayce replied.

“Seriously though, Jayce, do you know how good this will be for people in the undercity? If we could adapt it, for different injuries and conditions, this could be huge!”

“Well, I have started some concepts for a spinal brace version, it shouldn’t be too difficult,” Jayce said.

“You are brilliant.”

“I guess now we just have to concentrate on fully stabilising every crystal that gets made, this is one of the only ones we’ve perfected so far.”

“We’ll get there. I think we’re getting close with that one.”

Their entire goal with Hextech had always been to improve lives, and if there was one thing Jayce Talis had proven he could do, it was just that. Not only was the entire city progressing because of Hextech’s work, Viktor was a living example of Jayce’s talent specifically – he certainly felt more fulfilled than he ever had before meeting Jayce, despite his declining health. He had someone who cared for him, he had a purpose, he was loved. And it made him feel so alive.

#noticed viktor doesn't wear the leg brace til act 2 and thought hmm jayce Builds Things #had to write this as soon as the thought entered my brain #arcane #jayvik #jayce talis #viktor arcane

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thequietkid-moonie · 3 months ago

Text

Giving up but not loving them

[ YANDERE HEADCANONS ] [ Harpae, Hananoi, Kaguya ]

[ Pocket Mirror GoldenerTraum ] [ A condition called love ] [ Kaguya-sama Love is war ]

⚠️ Yandere, I don't support nor try to romanticize this toxic behaivor, is just for entretaiment

⚠️ This may contain a little bit of spoilers

I didn't manage to think on more characters to write with this prompt but I swear I will write this prompt again with other characters!!

I love this prompt, angst and sad, just the way I like them 🫶🏼

Harpae

Harpae is incredibly caring and doting towards her darling, for Harpae her darling is irreplaceable and unique, there is nothing in this world that can compare to you and she treats you like such. She is incredibly gentle but at the same time is incredibly possesive and controlling, Harpae see herself as the knight in shining armor of her darling, you have nothing to worry when she is around

Despite her disability she is incredibly good at taking care of you, she is loyal and devoted to her darling so she expects the same, Harpae tries really hard to show his darling how good she is at taking care of you and how you don't need anyone else aside from her, she is perfectly capable of taking care of both of you

Normally Harpae is gentle and loving, but it goes to the point where she just treats her darling like an indefense baby, wich can end up being unbearable, it would be understandable is you get tired and try to go or do things by yourself, but for Harpae thats something unaceptable, she can handle everything by herself her precious darling doesn't have to worry about anything! and, honeslty, if you insist Harpae will grow more and more angry, she pass from being passive agressive to directly get violent if you insist

Also, Harpae is incredibly controlling over her darling so she always has an idea of where you are or even is at your side, she is incredibly controlling but also dependent of her darling, once Harpae falls in love with you she just can't imagine a life where you aren't around, thats why everytime you even considere going somewhere she doesn't allow you, meeting someone else or even directly going away she snaps against her darling, desperately forcing you to stay with her

Harpae became incredibly dependant of her darling, thats why she really tries to make her darling at least like her, she will be incredibly heartbroken if you don't, she doesn't want to heard bad comments about her like the other people did, she would not be able to handle it, thats why when she found out that you dont actually love her and just do what she ask in hope to get some peace Harpae is absolutely heartbroken

It take her a long time before finally noticing because she has being too focused on keeping you safe to notice, but after a while of you just doing what she told you Harpae will start noticing the little things, like the sadness, discomfort or even the fake happiness in your voice, being completely in silent when doing what she ask you to is also something that will let her know that you aren't happy, keeping the chatting at the minimum despite her efforts to make you talk

Harpae is mostly in denial, she doesn't want to admit that you don't like her, because when she finally does accept it she has a complete break down, thinking that you probably just hate her so much that you doesn't even look at her most of the time, not being able to see you makes her think that you probably have a expresion of disgust everytime you two are together, she can't just not imagine the repulsion and even hate you may look at her with everytime she brush your hair

Harpae is going to be a mess for a long time, crying her heart out and scream in desesperation, begging for you to dont hate her and dont leave her, she doesn't want to lose you but she doesn't want you to hate her neither, she will even ask you what to do to make you like her, she can change! she will try and change for you! she will be better but please just dont leave her all alone

Saki Hananoi

Love for Hananoi is something really complicated, he doesn't know how to love without giving his all, without giving up all that he has and all that he is, going as far to even to change who he is just in hopes to be more apealing to his darling

When Hananoi falls in love he does really hard, his darling become his complete world, he lives for his darling, everything he does is for his darling and in hopes to make you love him, he wants so bad to make you fall in love in return that he just will become what you need and what you want in hopes that you will accept him

Hananoi tries too hard to be of your liking that his bad habits just grow more and more, even more when you seem to be uncomfortable or even dont like him. He is already incredibly clingy and needy, but if you show any negative feelings against him Hananoi feels like breaking down, feeling paniced and at the edge, which lead him to try harder and harder to be of your liking

Hananoi also end up insolating and trying to monopolize you as much as he can, even if you don't seem too comfortable is his desesperation what lead him to try to be more possesive over you, at the end it wasn't too difficult to notice how hard Hananoi is trying, even when he acts like is nothing and tries to hide from you how desperate and hurt he is at the end it just become being quite obvious if you pay enough attention

Even when Hananoi will never dare to be violent towards you he still bring you a lot of troubles, he never leave you alone and is obvious how bad he is getting the more you refuse to love him or even look at him, so at the end it would be understandable if you decide to just go with him and play his game, either for not wanting more troubles or even just for pitying him

Honestly, at first Hananoi was ecstatic by it, thinking that you were finally loving him, that he have finally become enough for you and you finally will leave him love you, but he can't lie to himself forever, soon or later he notices that, in fact, is not that you have finally fall in love but just accept him, no matter how much times he profeces his love and what he does its just for you its doesn't make you happy, you just tolerate him and give minimun responses, sometimes even just give him a fake smile in hope that he will stop being pushy and calm down

After finding out that you have only given up and give in his obsesion he is completely heartbroken, all he have done is for you, what he wants is for you to be happy with him and love him, but it seems that he have just brought you misfortune, he have done nothing but force you to be with him, and he doesn't want things to be like this

Hananoi is desperate for your love and attention but seeing you uncomfortable or even faking it for his sake is not the way he wants things to be, so now he is stuck between wanting to force himself to leave you free because he doesn't want to be the cause of your sadness and hoping now that you had accepted him one day you would just fall in love with him properly, that somehow one day you would be happy, wich end up leading him to be even more possesive and desperate

Kaguya Shinomiya

Falling in love for Kaguya is a tricky situation, for being of such prestigious family she has to relate to people who are at her level, as well, Kaguya is quite prideful so she has in high esteem her darling but at the same time thinks that her darling must do more to win the honor of being with her, but at the end all of that are just excuses to cover up the fact that she is the one who have fell in love

Kaguya is incredibly controlling over her darling in an indirect way, Kaguya is possessive due her own inoccent insecurities so she tries to control everything around her and her darling, making the most elaborate plans to make sure you never leave her side, forcing you to stay at her side while pretending that are just coincidences without importance

Kaguya is more than willing to use all her influences and even use Hayasaka to control every single thing around to make sure you don't leave her side, and yet she doesn't want to control you, she may try to win your heart and make you be at her feet with tricks and manipulation but deep down she doesn't want that, she does it almost for instinct but she firmly believes that with all her efforts she will manage to make you love her and be with her willingly, even if she doesn't dare to say it out loud thats what she truly wants

Kaguya is convinced that you are perfect for her and that she can easily make you hers, one way or another you will fall in love with her, so if you don't show interesant on her or even doesn't seem to comfortable around her Kaguya will get desesperante and even paniced but she repeats herself over and over again that you probably are just too shy and awkward, even intimidated by her! wich is not bad!

It has to be Hayasaka who notices that you aren't really happy at her side, but no matter how much she tries to explain the situation Kaguya is just in denial, she doesn't want to hear it! and, honestly, this only lead her to be more possesive and desperate, she tries even harder to make you stay at her side, even if that means insolating you from others, to make sure no one in the school wants to be with you

Its the moment when you give up the moment Kaguya will finally have to accept the reality, she can see it on your eyes, is the same feeling she has for being trapped in her family, that resignation, that feeling that your life is not yours, and she hates it. The realization happens slowly but it happens really painfully, she slowly has to face the reality of what she have done to you, how she had force you to be with her even when you aren't even comfortable with her, how she have taken away your own freedom, and she hates it, she hates that she have done this to the person she loves but now she doesn't know how to fix it, you probably hate her by now

Kaguya is too scare to let you free because she probably would just lose you forever, so she tries to fix what she have done slowly, trying to be more sincere and make you truly happy at her side, trying to make you love her in a more sincere and affectionate way, willing to open up to you enough for you to see how sorry she truly is and, hopefuly, you can understand that the only thing she wants is for you to be happy together

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charleslee-valentine · 6 months ago

Text

Menace

For the Texas Chainsaw Massacre Disability Pride Month Event: Day 1- Alternate Communication

Word Count: ~5,200

Warnings: Period typical understanding of trans identities, period typical attitudes, and out of date language. Domestic child abuse. Unintentional ableism/infantilization of a disabled character. Later intentional ableism. Hurt minimal comfort. Mean-spirited. Drayton Sawyer is not nice.

_____________

Bubba’s at that age where he’s got a lot of questions.

A real teenager now, already thirteen and in that phase that the twins had before him, where there’s no excuses or lies to trick them into being quiet and obedient would work anymore. Now he’s got all the questions.

That’s not to say it’s the same kind of curiosity. His older brothers were sneaky, conniving things that could be tricky with the questions they asked, could get answers to things they wasn’t exactly s’posed to know. Somethin’ they were quite proud of.

But Bubba’s questions were more often about the deep thoughts of life. Things like how stars are made and where rainbows come from. Apparently the Bibles in every nightstand weren’t good enough answer for him. Fair enough since nobody read ‘em after Great Grandma’s days.

Bubba, with all his overflowing need for answers, come to the twins with a little notepad. It ain’t easy for him to write, but it’s even harder to speak, so Bubba has a system. He makes little letters and short words along with his noises to build a story his brothers can eventually understand.

Today though, his question is big, and they aren’t getting what he needs. Which means they doesn’t know how to answer it. Which means Bubba gets so upset he’s about to start cryin’.

They take note of the shiny tears formin’ in his big ol’ eyes, and Bobby is the one to promise, “W-We’ll fix it! We’ll fix it, lil’ B-Bubba!”

Nubbins leaves to the kitchen and returns with a cup of juice, the kind with a lid he used to drink from when he was younger but the twins still think he likes, “Here! I-Is ‘at w-what’cha wanted?”

Bubba gives a roll of his (unfortunately misty) eyes and pushes it away with a huff. He’s not a baby that cries for juice, he’s having a crisis and wishes his brothers would just get it.

“Aw, Bubby w-what the hell y-you on?!” Bobby complains sharply, which just kind of makes Bubba lose control and cry.

Both twins feel bad for causing those tears to finally fall, though they won’t say it, deciding to go and find the powers of the house to fix their mess up.

“L-Let’s go ask big b-brother-“ Nubbins announces, looking to Bubba to see if that’s okay, so Bubba gives a tiny nod.

Each takes one of his hands, guiding him as they run down the stairs calling, “Drayton! Drayton!”

They caught him off guard with his second or maybe third coffee of the day, bitter liquid spilling down the rim of the mug and splattering on the counter. Earns them a raised voice, “Christ on a goddamn- Who lit a flame under your asses? I taught you better’n runnin’ ‘round here like hellions!”

“Bubba’s got- B-Bubba’s got a question a-and we c’ain’t figures it o-out!” Nubbins explains for the trio of them, long arms raised out and above Bubba’s head to protect the littlest one from a possible punishment over the spilled coffee.

They’re lucky that their older brother can be a little bit nicer to Bubba, talking to him like a human at times, “That right? C’mere, Bubba.”

Like he’s in trouble, or still five years old and barely walking, Bubba waddles forward to Drayton with his head down and his hands clasped and twiddling behind his back.

Drayton scoffs at his demeanor as though he ain’t given his brothers every reason under the sun to be afraid, “Ain’t in trouble. Wha’s’a matter?”

Because he’s gotten so tall, Bubba hunches his shoulders down to be at a height around the same as Drayton. Quietly, though not quite a whisper on account of not really being able to, Bubba babbles away, his tone and his inflection to the sounds he makes in place of any distinct words.

Drayton never did need the written out sentences that the twins did, understanding his cooing as though he were speaking perfectly clear English.

“Uh-huh..” Eyebrows drawn tight together, a deep frown across his aging face, Drayton asks for the truth, “Boy you ain’t pullin’ on my chain?”

Bubba shakes his head, “Nuh-uh!” Makes a little cross over his heart to swear it's true and everything.

Suddenly his exasperated face turns grim. Mist of sad behind his eyes.

“This’n… Big brother c’ain’t fix this’n, you hear. I’m no good for that.. I’m- Ain’t a very good influence..”

The twins exchange a glance, mutually understanding absolutely nothing of what’s going on, before Nubbins nudges Bobby so he’ll speak up. He chirps, “Drayton? Drayton w-w-watcha talkin’?”

Drayton’s shoulders snap backwards like he’s been shoved over by some specter, startled clear out of his self-reflection and onto the defensive, “Boys your.. your Bubba needs a little help.”

“Tha’s y-yer job though!” Bobby argues, angry that they thought he'd be nice enough to help when they couldn’t figure out how.

“Shut your mouth!” Hand flying out like it’s nothin’, Drayton dishes out a backhand that hits Bobby first and scratches slightly on Nubbins’ jaw too. He gives an order with a grimace, hating to be undermined but never rising to his duties, “You boys take Bubba ‘n show ‘im upstairs to your Gran’parents’ room.”

Timidly, but the curious, argumentative spirit never quite extinguished in him, Nubbins asks, “Why? W-Wha’s up there?”

“I’ll show you when I get to that for God’s sakes!.. Need a damn smoke firs’..” Draytons voice trails off as he storms for the front door, slamming it shut and, from the sound of it, pacing around the porch.

Unfazed, the twins start dragging their little brother around again, “C’mon l-lil’ Bubba!”

Frustrated at being babied in his teen years, Bubba whines all the way up the steps. already a head taller than the shortest of his three older brothers, he can’t grasp why they want to see him as some tiny, fragile baby. Maybe then they’d understand his growing pains, if they could just see him as a regular 13 year old.

“M-Mean ol’ man, huh Bubba?” Bobby bumps him with his shoulder playfully, big cheeseburger smile on, like it’s funny he got hit and Bubba didn’t get any answers.

A whole slurry of sad and frustrated and scared mixes together and just turns Bubba’s stomach. The best he can muster is a shrug.

They take reluctance as a sign of worry, with Nubbins informing him in a harsh whisper, “Y-You’s allowed to say it. Ain’t n-nobody like Cook.”

“E-Even Cook don’ like Cook!” Bobby adds, breaking into a cackle that makes Nubbins laugh along.

That confuses Bubba, making a noise he hopes they can understand so they explain better, “Duh?”

Sort of better. Bobby starts up his rambling, “He’ just pissed ‘cause.. ‘cause I-I bet he had that d-dumb ol’ face his wh-whole life.”

Now that’s confusing. Everyone in the family always had just the one, except for Bubba, ever since he started wearing masks just a couple years ago.

Nubbins starts to steer his twin into understandable territory, “Heh heh, yeh, B-Bubs gets a newww face when- when he’s feelin’ like a stuck-up bitch hog!”

“But all the old man does, i-is make that ol’ sucker face!” Bobby howls.

Of course both twins immediately imitate Drayton’s grumpy face with exaggerated pouts and scrunched features. A rumbly laugh squeaks out of Bubba, though he feels guilty for finding their insults funny. It dies off pretty fast and then he stares at the ground instead, hoping they’re done with their teasing.

It doesn’t help that they’re wrong. Bubba isn’t upset about anything to do with the face and neither was Drayton. The masks have already been serving their purpose, with their makeup and shiny hair. That’s just what scares him. Thinking maybe Drayton got mad about that he likes to wear lady faces sometimes, and the questions starting up now surrounding if that’s allowed.

Because that ain’t the reason, what the twins said ‘bout changin’ every time he gets bored and stuffy and irritated. Bubba thinks that, some of the time anyway, he really is a lady, underneath the face and all.

Miming for the twins to understand that is futile, but he tries anyhow, flashing his hands and pointing to his mask and shaking his head in a pattern.

The twins are not subtle about their confusion. Staring blankly, Bobby asks his twin, “You gots any idea w-what he’s sayin’?”

Nubbins shakes his head no, taking a random guess based on earlier, “Bubba- B-Bubba is you askin’ why.. why the Cook’s so mean?”

“Oh yeah! I-I bet that’s it!” Bobby bounces on his heels, like he’s excited to be wrong.

Poor Bubba makes an ‘X’ with crossed arms, but they just ignore it, their minds made up already about his intention.

Starting with Nubbins, they tell the story they’ve been told when they’ve asked why Drayton was treating them badly, “Well uh..uh.. m-me an’ Bobby, we was born jus’ when Drayton was ‘boutta m-move real far a..away.”

“He-He found some.. some dumb job was gonna s-steal him from the fam’ly. And we th-thinks he had a.. a secret l-lady friend!”

“‘T-‘Til us lil’ cripples was born. Th-That’s his words eh-zactly.”

Bubba’d heard all that before by himself, but it sounded more interesting when the twins told it rather than big brother. At least they weren’t holding it over his head. If he could manage reasonably communicatin’ with them, he’d like to know more, so he makes a motion with his hands pulling towards himself.

Nubbins understands Bubba wants more knowledge, but doesn’t know what to tell him, deciding to reminisce, “I-I-I’s gonna pull out them-them photo picture albums! W-We’ll find somethin’ good in them! Drayton’s book ain’t th-that big, w-we could pull it down for answers!”

Frantic, this attempt at bonding not at all what he wanted, Bubba tries to whine and make a ‘stop’ motion with his hands on account of they aren’t allowed. Getting in trouble is the last thing he wants right now.

But Bobby scolds him, while helping his twin to drag down the giant dusty photo book, “Oh hush, b-big brother ain’t gonna be f-finished with them cigs ‘til- ‘til he’s stinkin’ worse’n G-Gramma used to.”

“Shush it! B-Bubs don’ remembers her neither!” Nubbins gives a thwack to Bobby’s head not unlike the one they received from Drayton earlier for that slip up. Without asking first if Bubba even cared, which he didn’t all that much.

The twins sit on the dusty old bed, each with a cover of the book in their laps over crossed legs. Bobby flips the first few pages, past the really, really old photos of people they never even heard of. Once yellows and orangey browns fades to black and white, they find what they're looking for an’ point for Bubba to see, “Lookie, h-here she is!”

It’s Grandma in her dressey clothes, wrapped in layers and layers of lace and pretty colors they can’t quite see under the colorless photo. She died wearin’ that same Pearl necklace and the curlers that would’ve made her up-did ringlets if she ever gots to take ‘em out. Her gappy, black toothed smile shows a different side, where she’s not so fancy, but they loved her all the same and she loved them. According to how her eyes crinkle and her cheeks look rosy, whole figure outlined by the faintest blur from the shake of her laughter, she loves the little baby in her arms too.

That’s the trouble though. A baby girl, according to the bows on her tiny clothes. Nubbins’ face gets all offended, “W-Wha’s she doin’ in Drayton’s pictures book with some lil’ l-lady baby?” He flips to double-check the name on the front, and sure ‘nough it says ‘Drayton’ right there, in clear as day handwriting. ‘Sides, far as they know, ain’t been a little girl Sawyer born in sixty some years.

“Lemme see that!” Bobby snatches the book away so he can bring it up to his face and narrow his fuzzy eyes at it, focusin’ real hard ‘til he concludes, “Well th-that outta b-be Mama.”

Now Nubbins knows that ain’t right and rolls his eyes, “No, you-you dummy, Gramma was only our age w-when Mommy was born. Ain’t no ol-old lady already.”

“That ain’t old.” Bobby concludes without looking again at Gramma’s obvious wrinkles in the picture.

“It ain’t y-y-young neither!”

“Sh-Shuddup!”

Nubbins being taller is able to snatch the book and clamber to his knees, holding it high up above Bobby’s head. With his other hand, he blocks his scratching and swatting to defend the book, when he turns his head and notices their little brother watching.

“Bubba, y-you wanna sees it?”

Bubba nods oh so excitedly, making hands like grabby little claws. Nubbins giggles and hands it to him, probably hoping to dump it off anyhow so he can fight Bobby with his full attention.

Only a little disturbed by all the commotion and rattling of the bed they’re using as a fighting ring, Bubba slowly flips through, watching the stranger baby girl in Grandma’s arms grow up into a toddler, and then a little kid, no older than seven or eight years old.

And suddenly, the little girl chops all her hair off, and starts swimmin’ in baggy old clothes, and smiles bright ‘n wide, showin’ off two little bucked teeth. That is Drayton.

Bubba gasps and squeals and bounces to get the twins’ attention.

“What? W-What’s a’ matter Bubba?” Bobby checks up, showing actual real concern underneath the big red slap mark on his face.

Nubbins looks, double-takes to process the shocked expression on Bubba’s face, and then gets angry at his twin, blaming him and all the arguing for Bubba’s emotion, “Y-You scared ‘im!”

“Nuh-uh! Uh-uh!” Bubba insists, waving his hands.

They stop to get their answers and see Bubba’s fished out the little picture from under the sticky plastic, holding it out. Flipped to the back, there’s some blue pen, sort of sideways and scratchy writing but easy enough to read.

The twins know it as Mama’s handwriting, a little script that says: ‘Little Es is officially a big boy. Asks we call him - Drayton. 1925’

“Woah.” They deadpan at the same time, sharing another playful nudge over their jinx.

Nubbins is the first to deviate from their identical surprise, with a question, “W-What’s this business big brother was a b-baby girl for? Is a-all babies girls?”

“No way, stupid. J-Just the ones that the Mama and the Daddy gets- gets confused.” Bobby snorts at him, always acting like he’s so much smarter.

Since he wants to be, Nubbins asks him sarcastically, though it is true really doesn’t know on his own, “What’s ‘at mean?”

“They m-mixed it up a-and c-couldn’t tell which was it.” Bobby says it like it’s obvious.

Now it’s Nubbins’ turn to get all haughty, ‘cause he thought of somethin’ smart that says what Bobby’s actin’ like is true, ain’t. “What, y-you thinks babies change they-they’s own diapers? Nope.”

Fed up with them, Bubba covers his ears and squeaks as loud as possible, “Eeee!”

No more words, they both snap to attention looking at him. Bubba calmly starts to mimic with his hands, pointing to the baby girl picture, slicing through the air, and pointing again to Drayton’s first boy picture. He’s trying to show them the progression, that this was a gradual change.

“Uh… Dr-Drayton splitted in half?” Bobby guesses.

Nubbins claps his hands once as he realizes, “No! Bubby says Drayton jus’ a-a replacement! Th-They switched ‘im out!”

Yet again, Bubba is sighing at their wildness and shaking his head over their out of place assumptions.

But he feels bad about it immediately, once Drayton appears. Liked he cursed his brothers to a punishment for mostly innocent teasing by being frustrated at them.

Drayton reeks of cigarette smoke so badly they could prob’ly all suffocate in this dusty old room. He scans and finds the book out of place, immediately turning sour about the face, “What the hell you boys got into, huh?”

Bobby takes their incorrect theory and runs with it, “W-What’s it your business, you ain’t e-even our real big b-brother! Y-You just a replacement!”

“Yeh!!” Nubbins backs him up, nodding furiously.

“Give me that..” Drayton snatches his photo back, cradling it between his hands like they were playin’ with another wounded little baby bird or somethin’, “I oughta whoop you boys. I-I oughta beat you both senseless!!”

His red-faced rage scares them, but they deflect instead of admitting that, Nubbins pointing to their younger brother with accusation, “H-Hey! Bubba looked too!”

“Have you forgotten Bubba was who you two ingrates was s’posed t’ be helping!?” Drayton seems to just shrug off the attempt, turning it into more furious ammunition.

Brown-ish eyes get all wide, Nubbins frantic to insist, “Uh… no! We jus’... uh..”

“W-We don’ understand ‘im!” Bobby finishes for him.

So much for pretendin’ like they got it all handled, they gotta go cryin’ to big brother to fix it like they aren’t grown themselves now too, “We-We’s tried it! But like you s-said, we ain’t v-ver’ smart!”

“B-Big brother, we's jus’ stupid!!” They lament, lanky, scarred up arms finding their place around each other as they both start wailing.

Now Bubba really feels bad. The twin’s last birthday was number 18, meaning in the eyes of the law they was liable on they own now, full grown enough to move out and do somethin’ besides just play all day. Funny thing though, is the government not knowin’ they been workin’ all their lives, ‘round the farm or helpin’ Drayton with his business.

Just don’t seem like it sometimes, when they’re both burstin’ into tears, all torn up over bein’ bad at their assigned role as Bubba’s big brothers. The way they baby him don’t sting quite so much now, knowin’ they was just tryin’ all they knew to get it right. Shouldn’t really be up to them, or Drayton for that matter, it should be their mama.

Bubba saw her picture in his book, her giant brown eyes, carved into her slender face by puffy rims. Her smile was sort of the same way, chipped away from a bony, pale sort of glow about her. Unlike Gramma, Mama didn’t doll herself up in dark red lipsticks and spidery eye lashes. Mama wore every freckle and mole and the burn scar on her cheek with pride.

Looking into that face, peppered with all kinds of realness, Bubba can’t imagine her leaving jus’ ‘cause of his face. Drayton told him that all along, that his face had these awful gaps and dents and pinches that warped it around, along the lines of where he now had ropey pink scars and droopy eyes.

Mama was pretty, so pretty he’s a little jealous, but her eyes just got this look a lot like love and acceptance that makes Bubba want to believe somethin’ different happened back then. It’s nicer to think Mama would’ve helped his ways of communicatin’, than it is to admit she walked out, whatever the reason.

“Now.. Now, that’s enough of that! Quiet!” Drayton is hollering at the twins to stop their cryin’, drawing Bubba up out of the photo book and into the current problem. Or rather, problems, counting being caught with the picture books, yelling at Drayton, all their bickering, and Bubba struggling to communicate on top of all that.

For their part, the twins do quiet down to just sniffles, watching as Drayton points in their faces and turns,

“I’ll be back to you two after ‘ while.”

For now he’s dealin’ with Bubba, who’s got dread pumpin’ in his veins like a rainstorm against the windows.

Drayton wets his lips and forces a chuckle like he does when he’s talking to a victim. Bubba thinks his brother must be half scared of somethin’, as he motions to the photo book, “What’s ‘at you got there?”

It’s got to be a trap. A trick question. Bubba slams it shut and snatches it close, wrapping his arms around it. A teeny part of him hopes he can hide that it’s Drayton’s particular book, until he remembers that he’d already seen the particular snapshot in history they was all lookin’ at.

“Ah, c’mon now. Show me.” Drayton coos, a tone reserved almost exclusively for folks tied to the dinner table, or the way he talks to the food in the truck when he thinks the boys are too busy to listen.

There’s danger in that. Bubba eases up slowly, presenting the book on the page he’d been fixated to. Drayton takes it full out of his hands and flips through with skill and ease, clearly looked through this photo book many times while nobody else was s’pose to see.

What he lands on is another photo of himself, a little older this time, proudly in line with Grandpa, officially recognized as a man of this house. Someone in their history’d doctored it to have a small cut out photo of little Drayton next to it. With his hair in girly piggy tails and a skirt lengthwise down to his shins.

“See here, this’n’s the one I wanted t’ show ya.”

Bubba thinks he’s starting to understand that they were supposed to look in the photo books. Drayton would’ve hit them already instead of later on, if he could truly bring himself to be angry about their spying. Big brother must ought’ been too shy to show off the pictures, preferring them to find it without him in the room. Maybe in case they said somethin’ mean.

“You was sayin’ ‘bout all that, boy-girl business. One to the other, huh? There ya have it. Know a fella myself done that.” He starts, bridging together all the small pieces in Bubba’s head to build the bond he’d hoped.

Earlier, what Bubba told Drayton that the twins couldn’t understand, he was tellin’ about his questions, his crisis, his out of body feelins.

Bobby gets impatient with Drayton takin’ it all so slow though, “Y-You did, you ch-changed-“

“Damn it, I know that! Tryin’a make friendly!“ Drayton whips his head ‘round to yell, taking a slow, deep breath on the way back to brace himself for the serious side of this, “Lookie, Bubba. You know.. heh.. big brother ain’t as naive as I look. Let you do all that business with your makeup ‘n them suits of your departed auntie’s, ‘cause I seen the inklin’ of this all along.”

Like a confused critter, a puppy at the door wonderin’ who’s on the other side, Bubba tilts his head sideways, “Guh?”

“Well now I watched you grow, didn’t I? Noticed you wasn’t like your brothers.” Drayton laughs like there’s a joke, but it’s still too tense to be real. His cold tone and accompanying lisp drop in, “But Bubba, you gots to be real serious ‘bout this if you’s gonna switch it up. Now I.. you know I can’t just start sayin’ I got’a little sister and everybody gonna be okay with it.”

Now Drayton won’t look him in the eyes, in the pretty woman face he’s wearin’ to feel the way his brother is describing, instead fixing his eyes downwards to his hands, “They’ll see through ya. God knows it. Best to stick ‘round the house much as you can if’n you go on with it. Can’t run ‘round the slaughterhouse or the station so free. ‘Til the idea of boy Bubba dies off anyhow.”

It still feels like too much. Like all kinds of commitment and work that’s still going to leave the problem exposed. What Drayton’s talking is doin’ a heart surgery on a brain-dead bitch hog. Ain’t gonna fix a damn thing.

Bubba shakes his head defiantly. The room around him is silent, Drayton’s face falling so bad you’d swear somebody done slapped him right ‘cross it.

Nubbins must noticed, cause he taps Drayton on his arm, whisper-informing him, “Cook, I-I thinks he’s sayin’ he don’ want that.”

“That right, huh? You wanna stay a boy?” Drayton tries to clarify.

But Bubba shakes his head at that too, and crosses his arms now.

“So you is wantin’ to be a girl?”

Another shake. Drayton’s skipping over the right answer, and Bubba hopes he’ll understand that if he could just deny his questions enough. It feels strange, that his usual go-to for understandin’ is now so closed off, caught up in his own experience so much he can’t see Bubba’s how it is.

The twins ain’t perfect about the way they talk with Bubba but they do try, or at least they’s goin’ to now, ‘cause Bobby excitedly declares. “I know this! I-I-I know this! I think Bubba w-wanna be both!”

A little surprised honestly, Bubba feels a big burst of happy energy from his heart out into his limbs. He wiggles his arms and claps his hands together, faster than he would if he were talkin’ this way.

Drayton is stuck up on Bobby bein’ right, not takin’ it a good way like Bubba, “That ain’t the way it works, fool.”

Bubba ain’t sure if he’s talkin’ the boy-girl stuff, or the ‘Drayton isn’t always right and the twins know their shit sometimes’ stuff.

“S-Sure it is! If that’s what B-Bubba wants!” Nubbins sounds too confident, and they all realize he’s just rubbing salt in the wounds as much as he is extending an olive branch past the old man to Bubba.

“Yeh! O-Old man don’ make the rules!” Bobby agrees, and they’re across the other side of the bed, but Bubba feels like they’re huggin’ him, wrapped around with happy feelings and pleasant warmth.

“I ain’t old yet. And damn it I didn’t say a contrary word!” Drayton insists, taking the high road. No fists go flying, or belts for that matter, just a sort of vulnerability uncovered that would usually have that violent shield over top when his usefulness slipped, “Bubba, help your big brother understand.”

“Uh…” Bubba don’t know how. It’s been put plainly already. He just kinda freezes with his wrists bent up soothingly.

“U-Use the p-pictures, Bubs!” Bobby encourages him, since that’s how he got his point across to them before. Poorly scrawled words didn’t ever really cut it and neither did his gestures, so pictures would have to do.

Only, he doesn’t really get how to do that with limited photos of Drayton’s upbringing that got nothin’ to do with this current issue at all. That must show in his eyes, the panic and the just stuck feeling that’s catching up to him.

Nubbins suggests, “Make.. m-make new ones!”

To show it’s possible, Bobby fetches another yellow-paged notepad, while Nubbins produces a pencil from behind his ear, there ‘cause he was copying the pen Drayton usually keeps there on his own person.

Bubba babbles his version of a thank you, simple phrases like that still known to the family more than this complex stuff, and begins doodling. It takes two entire pages to show it all in his pictures, things like Bubba changing outfits, wearing his boy self and then his girl self, a calendar and the rotating sun showing it’s a day to day sort of thing. At first, Bubba had wanted to know if that was normal, his questions being about how to handle it.

Their reactions were answer enough though, and now it’s just like he’s answerin’ his own questions. Makes him feel kinda smart, drawing out answers and showing all the feelings her never managed to speak on. Really and truly communicating.

Drayton looks it all over when he’s finished and sort of half, fake-smiles.

“Sometimes a she, sometimes a he. Long as yer dressed accordin’ly, think I can work with ‘at. Knew a few fellas down… well you don’ want ‘t know all ‘at. Heh. Older you kids get, less I think I’m knowin’ how ‘t talk to ya.”

Shaking his head at himself in something like shame, Drayton gets up to leave. He’s frustrated at having failed at understanding, but just as much about having passed on his afflictions in the way of the human sex to poor Bubba somehow.

Hands shaking, he goes to the door to leave, before stopping. His heavy, quivery breaths fill the room more than any of the noise they’d been making today, “Bubba. Don’t go tellin’ this to the outside, you hear? These drawins, they stay in the home. To the outside you’re mute again.”

“That ain’t f-fair! I-If we can understands his art, e-everyone oughta, a-and he’ll be jus’ like normal!” Bobby stands and argues, his twin nodding furiously behind him.

Bubba though, he doesn’t like all the yelling and covers his eyes to hide from it.

“Hell what makes you boys think you know a damned thing about normal? Huh? What makes ya think I don’t?” Drayton had stomped forward, probably grabbed the boy according to the way Bobby yelped. Bubba curls up tighter and hopes that slap he just heard doesn’t hurt as bad as it sounded.

“Thats right ain’t nothin’ normal ‘round here, ‘n I ‘llow that much, but you find yourself testin’ my damn limits!!”

The door slams again and something falls over, a bone animal Bubba is pretty sure but not positive until he’s ready to uncover his eyes. In the quiet, the twins check up on each other first before coming back to gently inform Bubba.

“Psst. Bubba. H-He gone.” It’s Nubbins that says that.

Slowly Bubba comes out of hiding, obvious to all that a couple tears slipped past and wet his mask just so. Staying hushed, Bobby gently takes the drawing pad he was using and puts it in the big pocket on the inside of his sleeveless jacket.

“Iss alright. Lookie. Here look. I-I’s gon’ keep this.. this lil’ pad in my pocket, a-an when you wants to speak you tell one ‘f us. Th-That way, you ain’t the one c-carryin’ it so y-youu won’ get in trouble!”

“Tha’s sm-smart.” Nubbins testifies, grinning some. Seeing his toothy smile makes Bubba feel better, catching his breaths and steadying back out to no more panic. He gives a nod in agreement.

Bobby got a little ego about him from that claim, “I know it! W-We both is!”

Instead of the argument Bubba was expecting, the twins clap their hands together and clasp them there, connecting and silently saying that they handled this good. Cheeriness comes back into them and they’re laughing like hyenas before Bubba’s had time to process.

He still feels a little sad on his own. Ain’t easy bein’ told he’s a freak of nature needs to hide from the public, no matter how many times or for which reason it happens.

At least the notepad wasn’t burned up or somethin’, and he’s still ‘llowed to use it at home. Looking at all the photo albums, home to the first inkling of this understanding, he gets the idea to make a new one, that will hold his communication drawings as the pictures. That’ll be his next craft, and surely Nubbins will be able to help him with the sewing and gluing ‘til he gets real good on his own. Brings a crooked smile to his face as well.

#tcmfanevent #tcmdisabilityweek #tcm fanfic #my writing #my fic #the texas chainsaw massacre #bubba sawyer #nubbins sawyer #chop top sawyer #bobby sawyer #drayton sawyer #heed the warnings at the top this is a very bittersweet one. more of a character study than anything

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