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lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks · 3 years

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what happened the first time Wes tried to crack open the Danny is Phantom conspiracy did he like, confront Danny first or was it all behind his back like, maybe hoping ground zero would be lost among the gossip and that Danny wouldn't find out who spilled the beans once everyone knew

I mean it obviously wouldn't work because nobody believed him and the gossip didn't take off very far beyond a few people talking about Wes being kinda weird

I should absolutely write a fic about this.

I am absolutely going to write a fic about this.

I AM RIGHT NOW GOING TO WRITE A FIC ABOUT THIS.

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"Hey Fenton! Fenton!!" Dash came bounding over and threw a meaty arm around his shoulder.

"Jesus Dash! What?!" Danny buckled under the weight (pretended to anyway) as Dash gave him a surprisingly lighthearted punch on the arm.

"You haven't heard?! Wes has this total batshit insane theory, it's hilarious!"

Dash was in a genuine giggle-fit, Danny didn't think he'd ever seen him this merry, he was also starting to suspect he was going to leave this conversation being the butt of the joke somehow. Wait-

"Wes? Who the heck is Wes?" Danny asked, it wasn't like he knew everyone in school, like Dash seemed to.

"He's on the basketball team, you know, tall guy, red hair, threw a sick move at least month's game! You know, WES!"

"I didn't watch that game."

"Oh," said Dash, flatly, "Oh yeah, almost forgot you're a total nerd. Anyway, like I was saying!"

Dash grabbed Danny by the shoulders and nearly lifted him off the floor.

"Wes thinks," he could barely speak through his giggling, he even snorted a few times, "Wes thinks your secretly PHANTOM."

Dash dropped Danny back down as he doubled over laughing.

"Could you imagine?! You! You're not even DEAD!" Dash honest to god slapped his knee in mirth.

Danny went through an incredibly swift array of emotions in the span of about five seconds.

The first was fear, clear and bracing, then came confusion, how did he know? Had he seen something? Then there was hope, Dash didn't believe it, and if DASH didn't believe it, maybe nobody else believed it either. Then relief, he could roll with this, he could TOTALLY roll with this! Dash was right! It was absurd, it was ridiculous, it was hilarious, him being Phantom? What utter nonsense!

Sam and Tucker had been standing by his side at a Dash-safe distance, looking absolutely horrified. Sam looked ready to jump in and lay down a swift defence, but Danny gave a quick little low wave for her to stand down. He got this.

"Oh my god SERIOUSLY?" Danny busted out a slightly hysterical laugh, okay so he wasn't completely over the initial terrified anxiety.

"How could I- I mean what- WHY does he think I'M Phantom?! I mean how does that even work I don't-"

Dash clapped him on the shoulder, this was probably the most contact he'd ever had with him without being physically assaulted.

"I know right?! Like apparently he thinks you look alike? And he's all like 'But I've seen his eyes glow green' and 'they're never in the same roo-hoo-hoom." Dash wheezed and started hacking and coughing.

Danny carefully constructed a look of offence.

"Hey I mean, it's not THAT funny. Why couldn't I be Phantom! I know how to use a Fenton Thermos! Look I even HAVE one right-" he torn open his backpack and pulled one out, making sure to fumble it in a terrific display of fuck-uppery and drop it noisily on the cafeteria floor, he dropped to his knees trying to grab it but knocked it under a table.

A few girls standing nearby who'd been listening in started tittering, one of the guys sitting at the table snorted milk through his nose and Dash was just about on the floor in hysterics.

Even Sam and Tucker covered their mouths in an attempt to look like they were holding in laughter. Tucker muttered to Sam, just loud enough for people around to hear.

"I mean, he's our friend and we love him, but god that was painful to watch. He knows he's terrible at ghost hunting! He's got like, nothing but thumbs."

Danny climbed under the table, grabbed at the thermos and lifted it up as he crawled back out.

"See! See! I have a thermos! I could TOTALLY be Phantom!"

Sam walked over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's okay bud, I think you'd be a great Phantom." her voice was thick with her usual sarcasm, soaked in pity though it were.

Danny's ears burned in embarrassment, he might have been humiliating himself on purpose, but it was still humiliating, watching everyone laugh at him for being so weak and incompetent. He was grateful to his friends for pushing through their discomfort and keeping up the act, it was still painful, but it came with a wash of pure unadulterated relief.

Nobody believed this Wes guy, nobody thought it could be even remotely possible. People would talk about it for a little while, have a laugh, maybe there would be a few memes and in-jokes, but eventually it would drop off. People would forget all about it and it would be just another notch on the gossip mill belt.

Even if someone DID believe it, they could never admit it for fear of vicious ridicule, for once in his life peer pressure was his friend.

And then Wes walked in.

Once Danny saw him he realised that he did recognise Wes, he'd seen him hanging around Kwan a few times, and chatting with Star, he was also in Danny's english class. That was about as familiar as he got with the guy, they'd never spoken a word to each other.

Wes had a terrifying expression of seething fury ripping across his face. He was glaring at Dash.

"It's NOT. FUNNY."

Dash was completely unable to stand, it was honestly overkill, Danny almost thought he was hamming it up on purpose, but maybe not, his face was turning an alarming shade of red after all.

"Wes don-" Dash gasped. "Don't do this to me man, I can't brea-" Dash was gasping for air, trying desperately to hold down the giggles.

Danny could almost see steam rising as Wes seethed. Then suddenly that furious stare was shooting daggers straight at him. Danny shrank into himself, looking as small and helpless as he possibly could.

"Uh hey Wes, um, I've heard the news." he joked tacking on a nervous laugh for emphasis. "Uh, soooo," he tossed the thermos from hand to hand, nearly dropping it again. "Is this like, just a joke or do you really-?"

Dash continued to wheeze, Kwan was holding him up by the arm, muttering about getting some water to cool off.

Wes strode over until he and Danny were face to face, he was taller by a good couple inches, even more so with Danny making a conscious effort to appear small.

Wes jabbed a sharp finger into his collarbone.

"Don't think I'm fooled by this pathetic act you've got going on, I am ONTO you, Phantom." he spat.

Danny glanced sidelong at the table beside him, silently begging for assistance, they only watched in silence, strained faces trying not to laugh. A glance the other way to his friends, they simply shrugged.

"Um, okaaay," Danny started backing away slowly. "Uh look Wes I am honestly really flattered but, do we really look that alike?" Danny ran a hand through his hair and then pointed up at Wes. "I mean we BOTH kinda have Phantom's haircut."

Sam deadpanned from the sidelines, "Maybe they're BOTH Phantom."

"We should start marketing that haircut." Tucker muttered to himself, tapping something on his tablet. "We could make a fortune, are you any good at hairdressing?"

Sam shot him a look of disgust and did not dignify the question with a response.

"Don't play dumb you two," said Wes, flipping his focus, "You're definitely in on this!"

The entire cafeteria was awash with giggles by this point. Just about everyone had heard about Wes' theory, but were mostly convinced it was some kinda joke. Now? Now they knew Wes was straight up fucking delusional.

He glanced around as people laughed, at him. At HIM.

"It's not funny!" he yelled over the crowed, the tittering increased in volume. Someone across the room yelled-

"Hey if I get the haircut, can I be Phantom too?"

One of the goths stood up on her seat.

"I've GOT the haircut! Mom says it's MY TURN to be the Phantom!"

There was a fresh round of mirthful laughter, some kids wheezing as hard as Dash had been. Another few kids piped up above the cacophony, throwing jokes of their own.

"I've got a soup thermos so I'm Phantom now, sorry sweaty I don't make the rules."

"If I wear a Phantom shirt does that make me Phantom ALL the time or am I only Phantom when I'm wearing it?"

"I have an ass, Phantom has an ass. Conclusion: I am Phantom's ass."

"Tag yourself I'm the thermos."

"DO THE BUTTS MATCH?"

Wes had been trying to scream over the din, infuriated, desperate to find SOMEONE who would listen.

Danny gave him a pat on the back.

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, The Guys in White once hunted some guy down because he had white hair, if a government agency can fuck that up then-"

Wes slugged him.

It wasn't a particularly solid punch like Dash's hits, it was quick and precise, Was wasn't a brawny guy, but he was lean and fast and had good aim.

Danny whuffed out a heavy breath as Wes' fist collided with his sternum and he collapsed to the floor.

Everyone in the cafeteria lost their shit, a few people screamed and one table of football jocks all stood up chanting, "FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT."

Tucker ran over to him as Sam stepped up and without hesitation slammed a fist straight into Wes' nose.

The footballers lost their minds, one of the goths stood up on their table screaming "REPRESEEENT!!"

Wes backed up immediately, crying out from the sharp pain blossoming across his face, he'd never been hit before and couldn't pull his thoughts together quick enough to throw a punch back at her, so he was taken by surprise once again as Sam placed a solid roundhouse kick to his stomach.

He had certainly not been expecting that kind of brute strength from her, she had incapacitated him swiftly and effectively, barely having broken a sweat.

One of his teammates hollered over the crowd and came barrelling down on the goth, she dodged without batting an eye and darted nimbly out of the way, giving the guy a quick kick in the pants to throw him off balance as she rocketed for the cafeteria door.

As Wes took a deep breath through his mouth, his nose dripping blood, he realised that Danny and Tucker were gone. The fight had lasted only seconds but Sam had run distraction well enough for the boys to take off without anyone noticing, a glance around showed Tucker supporting Danny about to exit through the cafeteria doors.

The doors opened to an out of breath Mr Lancer on the other side.

"'The Light Fantastic!' WHAT is going on here?!"

Oh they were all so fucked.

#danny phantom #wes weston #I definitely wanna write a sequel in detention #danny phantom fanfiction #Lula's headcanons #Lula's fanfics

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wizkiddx · 3 years

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the worst case scenario

okay so this is possibly part 1 of a v v angsty dad!tom fic!!

WARNING: the section under the cut of this is v v v dark with mentions of death and some graphic descriptions of blood etc - please please don't read if any of these things may affect you <3

the part above the cut (the keep reading bit) is completely fluffy (a bit of childbirth but not graphic) so you could read only that first bit as a stand alone if anybody wanted to

dad!tomholland x reader

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“Stop laughing at me!!!” Y/n exclaimed in mock anger before bursting out laughing, knowing she did look pretty ridiculous.

“I can’t help it you just…. You look like an elephant!” Tom cackled from his reclined position lying on the couch, whilst his 8 month pregnant fiancé struggled to get up from her seated position on the floor - where she had spent the last half an hour wrapping presents for her nephews birthday.

“You know a supportive soon to be father would’ve helped me up!” Replying with a scowl that didn’t last long, Y/n finally standing up took the three steps to the couch before uncerimoniously collapsing into it.

Grinning with this absolute sparkle in his eye, Tom leant forward and slid up to Y/n to pull her into his side. His hand came to rest upon her massive bump - at this point it was almost a rule that if he were touching Y/n he also had to be touching the bump. Tom claimed it to be skin to skin contact and although Y/n were pretty sure that didn’t come into effect until after the baby was born, she wasn’t complaining either.

“It’s a shame your stuck with me then huh?” He murmured into the top of Y/n’s head, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head while tracing meaningless patterns on her shirt over the bump. Tom was beyond excited to become a Dad, family had always meant everything to him growing up (and now). There was nothing he wanted more , therefore, to call them a family of three - or more accurately four, not forgetting Tess of course.

“Oh how I regret ever taking up that extra shift at the club” She mused sarcastically, enjoying how he feigned offence in return.

The way the two had met was so incredibly cliche that it was almost painful, whenever anyone asked how they met she always winced internally. But it was their truth, Y/n had been a caddy at the golf course Tom frequented with his brothers. The nature of his ‘reputation’ meant the caddies always had to sign NDA’s to be paired with Tom’s group and the chosen few were those personally recommended by the golf course. She’d always stuck out to him, mainly because she seemed to be biting her tongue as they worked their way round the course. Caddies, also by job description, were not to speak unless spoken to; to be polite and courteous but not chatty. So, given how professioial she was, had taken some convincing for Tom to drag it out why she looked in physical pain whenever they played the 13th hole.

“Look somethings on your mind I can tell! If you hate me I can arrange another caddy I just -“ He followed her march to back from the hole toward the little buggy, ahead of his brothers and Dad who were making small talk from behind.

“FINE! Okay fine.” Reaching the end of her tether, Y/n snapped, whipping her body round to face him. “It’s your grip! On this hole especially you always play the driver with you pinky too far down the shaft, it’s why you always end up in the bunker on the 13th! It’s bloody infuriating because them I’m the one that has to clean the buggy you’ve trampled sand into!”

“Oh…. I-I … I wasn’t expecting that” Tom had spoken quietly, in an unfamiliar tone to Y/n. Over hours she’d spent on the course with them over the months, Y/n had gotten used to his storytelling voice when recounting an insane experience to his family that he’d had in the world of Hollywood; his grumpy voice when he played badly, which was often; and then his gloating voice - most definitely the worst and intolerable. This voice though, was different.

“I-I’m so sorry I have no right, I just-“ She’d out her foot in it …. badly. The young actor was one of the most clubs most prestigious and valued members; and she’d just insulted him. Clearly, she was also about to be in search of another job.

“No no I appreciate your tip… I didn’t even realise you play?” His gracious smile calmed her nerves a little, though Y/n still wrung her hands together as she replied.

“Well we aren’t supposed to talk about it but the club let us employees loose after hours… I practice quite a bit”

“Seeing as you think my game is so shitty, you fancy a round next time?”

Flash forward 3 and half years and a proposal, they were now taking their next massive leaps in the world together. Bringing a whole new life into it. It was bloody terrifying, they both openly admitted. But it was also exciting, new, incredible and… and made them even closer. Now they had to be in each others lives forever, no escaping.

“How many days left?” Craning her neck back on his shoulder so Y/n could meet his brown eyes, she knew the answer would be immediate.

“15 till the due date and the app said they’re the size of a rhubarb but I don’t really know what that means.” He knew more about the pregnancy and birth than she did. He had about a dozen different apps on his phone (including one pointlessly comparing the size of the baby to carrots/ watermelons/ onions), had read 4 different books (which for Tom was the equivalent to reading Newton’s book ‘philisphica Mathematica’.)

Ever since she’d told him about the pregnancy Tom had excelled every expectation Y/n had of him… massively. Without even having a conversation surrounding it, he had explicitly cancelled all major work commitments within 2 months of the due date and until around a year after. He had flown back and fourth across the world so he could pop in and check on you. He’d also set his whole family on becoming your minders when he was away - Y/n wouldn’t have been able to go a day avoiding a Holland (or Osterfield) if she had tried.

The pregnancy thus far hadn’t been the easiest though, hence why Y/n still appreciated to constant worrying texts and calls. During the first trimester the morning sickness had been literal hell; and then you’d had a little bit of a scare with pre-eclampsia during the second. It landed you a 3 day stay in hospital and a very very panicked Tom rushing back from New York on the first possible flight.

So now? Y/n wanted the baby out. She wanted family life as parents. (At which point hopefully Tom would stop comparing the size of your child to an assortment of different fruit and veg)

“You know, you really are going to be the best dad in the world Thomas Stanely Holland.”

“And you Y/f/n y/m/n y/l/n are already a pretty impressive mum.”

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It was 3 o’clock the next morning when Y/n awoke with a sudden groan instinctively rubbing her stomach in an attempt to get them easing up. Now too familiar with Braxton-Hicks contractions, the weird cramping that waxes and wanes but never letting her get any rest - Y/n knew she was in for a long night. With a muted sigh she carefully lifted Tom’s arm off her side, cautious not to disturb him. The poor boy had been up most nights with her, just because baby wasn’t letting her sleep, it didn’t mean Tom wasn’t deserving of rest either.

So making furtive movements at a snails pace, she attempted to tip toe out the room - yet as Tom had pointed out before, she looked almost like an elephant, so everything was relative. Surprisingly though, she was successful, escaping onto the soft cream carpet of their hallway before choosing to venture into the room opposite theirs. It had once been a spare room, though more correctly termed the ‘shit room’ because that’s where all the accumulated shit they got was thrown. Now however, Tom and his brothers had taken on the mammoth task of clearing it out and redecorating - creating the most beautiful nursery one could ever see. Complete with a rocking chair which Y/n made a beeline for, now allowing herself to audible groan at the tight sensation deep inside her.

Normally they would ease after a half an hour or so, yet this time, after what was surely more like an hour and a half they started to…. ramp up. What was a tight pressure sensation quickly became one more forceful volatile and full of pain. She put it off for about 3 or 4 cycles of these, pursing her lips and breathing deeply as she tried to convince herself they’d just simply fizzle away. This couldn’t be the real thing could it? It was too soon - as Tom had said she wasn’t due for another 15 days. It wasn’t happening… was it?

The answer was pretty comprehensively and cohesively given when Y/n tried to stand up, in the hope of walking the ache off, she felt an incredibly tight crunch as her insides seemed to wring themselves together. Oh … and a surge of water soaked her pyjama bottoms.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck FUCKKKK TOMMMM!! TOM-ah shit- MY WATERS!!! TOOOMMMM”The pain had amped up to a very very impressive levels, forcing Y/n to clutch her sides as she kept bending and straightening back up… as if that would help. Her lonesome agony didn’t last long though, a flustered Tom hurtled in the room - his hair sticking up all over the place and although his eyes were puffy from sleep he still had them glued open impressively wide.

“No its-its too- its too early!” In pure disbelief, Tom shook his head staring across at her face, contorted in pain.

“Yeh because-“ She gulped and exhaled in as much of a controlled manner she could through pursed lips; before answering his stupid statement. “Because I can just HOLD IT IN FOR ANOTHER 2 WEEKS SHALL I?” It took a while for Tom to process, looking down at the puddle of clear fluid on the floor and damp patch on her plaid bottoms while it was Y/n’s turn to look upon his it utter disbelief at his stupidity.

“Oh shit shitshitshitshitshitshit!!!!” His words grew with increased volume and place whilst he stayed frozen, his arms reaching out lightly toward Y/n without touching her though. “What do we do?!”

He of course had revised repeatedly and extensively what he was supposed to do when this happened - yet in the moment all knowledge and planning evaporated from his mind. Now wasn’t the time for taking the mick of her terrified fiancé though, Y/n was too blinded by pain as she leaned on the dresser.

“Get the-ah FUCKING hell - phone we need to time them and phone the … the-MIDWIFE.” It was hard to direct a frantic and terrified man when one feels as though her insides are collapsing in on themselves.

Tom gulped, nodding shakily, whilst trying to take deep breaths because although he was fucking terrified it wasn’t him that was giving birth. He had to step up now.

It took barely 10 minutes from the midwife picking up to a frantic Tom for her to assess that they needed to get into the hospital asap. During the pregnancy, all of Tom’s rich friends had recommended paying for a private hospital like the ‘Portland hospital’. The idea was it was a much more luxurious and private experience - of course coming with a heavy price tag. For Tom money was not an issue, so he’d suggested to Y/n and met the strongest rejection of all his life. The NHS was by far the only choice in Y/n’s mind - of course it busier, a lot less serene and not as private; but if god forbid something did happen, that was where all the experts and resources were. The idea of being able to pay for better access to healthcare actually repulsed Y/n and everything she stood for… so in short Tom was met with a very blunt refusal.

Once they arrived on the ward, all it took was one look at Y/n’s inflated belly and the way her body was squirming in the wheelchair Tom was pushing, whilst laden with the baby bags they’d had packed and prepared for weeks, for the pair to be rushed into a side room. After an intense 20 minutes of getting Y/n settled, getting her full medical history and inspection of her vagina the hmidwife’s head popped up from between her legs with a kind smile. She explained in a calming and gentle tone that Y/n was 5 cms dilated and had got to that point fast, yet now things looked to be slowing down a bit. With final words of advice of try to relax she left the pair to it.

They both looked at each other, a matching expression of confusion and relative terror blatantly clear in both their eyes. It had them both burst out laughing, if Y/n then scowled at the pain that shot through her side.

“This is really happening huh?” Tom murmured as he rounded the bed to gently run his hands through her sticky hair.

“I don’t know unless you really do want me to postpone their arrival for a short while?” Tom rolled his eyes and shook his head, although not really able to surpress the chuckle at his finances humour - even if it was at his expense.

“Glad to see you can still be as sarcastic as ever.” He laughed but before she could reply another wave of contractions hit making her instead just scream - grabbing his hand so tightly Tom was certain a bone or two were crushed in the process.

It was another hour or two of the same traumatic sight of watching the women he loved more than anything in the world be in such extreme pain. God knows how his appreciate for his mother grew in that moment - she had had four kids overall, two of them twins! Tom dared to think of the scenes in that room of twin brothers birth. Having to deal with both Sam and Harrys large heads…

Harrison had arrived in the meantime, he was to be the child’s godfather and Y/n was more than happy to have him there - even if it was more of a support to Tom than Y/n. Quite expectantly though, he was just as terrified and useless as Tom - so instead of having one idiot to deal with, the midwives now had double trouble of terrified men.

And yet after another 1 hour or so Y/n was being told to make one final push. Baring down on the gas and air tube, Y/n squeezed her eyes shut together whilst simultaneously contracting every muscle in her body with what little energy she had left. Hearing Tom and Harrisons words of encouragement; the midwifes orders and her own long and continuous scream, Y/n pushed with all she had. It was excruciating and torturous yet she kept going until the most beautiful sound was the only thing left reverberating round the room.

Her babies cry.

Tom looked at the scene in awe, feeling an almost out of body experience as the midwife unfolded from her position leant over the bed looking up to Tom.

“Do you want to cut the cord Dad?” Releasing a breathy laugh, tears collecting in his eyes he looked down at Y/n. She looked a mess - hair flying all over the place; sweaty sheen and a ruined look on her face; panting hard as she caught her breath. But to Tom? Never had he seen her look more beautiful, especially when she managed a small smile, nodding encouragingly at him. So he moved round to the end of the bed as the nurse motioned, while Harrison squeezed Y/n’s shoulder with the proudest look on his face.

It was the first time Tom had ever seen his child. And really, seeing a wrinkly little pink thing covered in all sorts of gunge - it shouldn’t be such a magical moment. But here he was, a single tear escaping over his lower lashes at the sight of them wriggling about. The midwife gave him a second, before gently handing him the medical scissors and directing him as to what to do. Once done, the lady announced the room it was a beautiful baby girl.

The next hour or so was a bit of a blur, the whole situation felt extremely surreal to everyone - but perhaps most to Y/n. Although the baby was premature the doctors had checked and were confident was perfectly healthy, so after both Y/n and Tom having their turn holding her (Tom finally got his real skin to skin time) they brought in a little incubator where she could rest while Y/n was recovering. Due to her prematurity, as a safety net, the doctors did want to keep the baby girl in overnight for observation, which meant the whole party would be staying too.

Y/n loved nothing more than watching Tom and Haz with their baby. The way they delicately cradled her in their strong arms and the way their eyes softened so inexplicably. Y/n swore that had she not just pushed a watermelon sized human out her vagina, the way Tom looked while holding their daughter would make her pregnant all over again.

“I still can’t believe you two created a real life human.” Harrison mused while standing with the baby girl in his arms, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he watched her sleep soundly.

“To be fair it was mainly Y/n” Tom laughed as he squeezed Y/n’s hand (wincing internally as it hurt his already injured hand - Y/n had an almost death grip)

“Oh no credit where credits due… he was involved for a whole 3 minutes or so.” Harrison snorted and Tom scowled at her, yet her cheeky if exhausted grin instantly erased any annoyance.

“Don’t make sexual jokes in front of our child!” He retorted, Harrison still laughing at his friend. Haz loved Y/n too - she made Tom a better version of himself. And now, she’d made him a dad.

**triggering part starts here

After all the excitement of the early morning it was more than fair to say Y/n was shattered, Tom not doing much better. So after a little bit, Tom joined Y/n on the bed and they instantly fell asleep to the light beeping of their babies heart monitor. Harrison stayed in the arm chair in the corner of the room, wheeling the little incubator right in front of him to just stare at the little girl. He had been texting Tom’s family too, giving them details of when they’d be allowed to come and meet the little one, who had just woken up to all Tom’s frantic texts from the night before.

Eventually though he was ped ousnapt of his happy daze, looking over to the bed and seeing Tom groan as he shifted on the mattress that was technically only spacious enough for one.

“You good mate?” Harrison spoke in a low voice, keen not to disturb either the baby of Y/n - she had earned a bit of peace. Tom just mumbled in response, rubbing his eyes as he sat up before letting out a deeper groan.

“-hat the fuck” Tom lifted up the blanket covering them both as Harrison looked on inquisitively. But then Tom leapt off the bed, started violently shouting Y/n as he shook her in a look of desperation. It was violent and harsh, Harrison was horrified as he immediately stood up in an action to pull Tom off her.

“Tom what are you-“

“Get help Haz.” Tom turned around to look at Haz, only at which point could the blonde haired boy make out why Tom looked so insane. Because his trousers, and the bedsheets that were now not hidden by the blankets, was covered in a red sticky substance. Jaw dropping, Haz slalomed round the incubator to stand at the foot of the bed.

It honestly looked like a horror scene. Y/n’s lower half was completely saturated in a bright red liquid that slowly was creeping further and further through the sheets. Her face looked pale, Haz cursing himself for not noticing earlier and her breathing… it looked so slow it was barely noticeable. The silence was only endured for a few moments, before Tom turned back to violently shaking the dead weight below him yelling her name repeatedly and frantically.

As soon as the alarm was raised more and more staff piled into the room, each one carrying a new level of importance and seniority - instantly taking control of the room and shouting orders. Tom had long since been pulled away from the bed by a nurse, who was trying to speak to him and calm him down, but was completely ignored as he focused on the scene over their shoulder.

“Looking like a primary PP bleed but she’s lost at least 3 pints already…. Somone bleep the aenestists and lets get moving to the OR please!.. We’ll need bloods crossmatch 5 units….”

Tom heard to the controlled sense of urgency in the lead doctors voice and he felt as though his heart was being torn straight from his chest. Harrison took over from the nurse, half restraining - half hugging him as the nurse ushered them completely out the room. Shouting over Tom’s desperate pleas to let the doctors do their thing. He fought hard against Harrison but ultimately his hold was enough to keep him back, the two watching from he corridor as Y/n’s bed was wheeled rapidly out the room - what seemed like at least 12 staff members bustling after it.

Harrison knew it was hopeless to try and talk to Tom, as he paced up and down the ‘relatives room’ the two had been confined to. They didn’t have a clue what was going on, no-one seemed to want to tell them - making the worst case option appear the most likeliest in Harrison’s head. A nurse had said the baby, as yet unnamed, had been taken down the neonatal unit so that it was one thing less for them to worry about ; but refused to say anything about Y/n, saying a doctor would come and explain soon.

It must’ve been 20 mins, even if to the two men it felt like a lifetime, when a round and short, greying man with big black rimmed rectangular glasses entered the room. Tom was too in his own head to even notice, pacing up and down the room while constantly running a hand through his hair as he tried to keep his breath in regular time - even if his brain was on overdrive. It took Harrison calling his name twice to make him snap out of it, looking up with desperate pleading eyes to notice the stout man, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“Are you Mrs y/L/n’s husband?”

“Fiance”

“I’m Dr Webber the consultant gynaecologist, shall we take a seat sir?” Tom stayed rigid, standing opposite him in an offensive manner.

“She’s dead isn’t she?” At Tom’s cold words, Haz’s breath halted in his chest. It had been what they’d both been thinking, of course, it was natural when you see someone with more blood out their body than inside it. The doctor seemed a little shocked at his frankness, pressing his lips together as he let out a sigh.

“No sir she’s not but she is very very unwell. Please, let’s sit down so we can talk about it because I understand it’s a lot to take in.” It took a couple of movements of Tom stood frozen staring but Dr Webber held firm, waiting until Tom took a seat next to Haz before he moved - drawing a chair from across the room so he could face both men.

“First off I’m sorry you were removed from the room and put in here for so long but these situations are incredibly hard and to get Y/n the best care we needed the whole room.”

“Doctor I just… I just need to know what’s going on.” He couldn’t deal with the state of unknowing, Tom was going insane, he didn’t care for the small talk.

“Sorry right, so what we think happened was your fiancé developed a condition called ‘placental accreta’. In simple terms, a bit of the placenta is stuck in the uterus and causes bleeding.”

“That much bleeding?” Haz couldn’t help himself from butting in, he knew this wasn’t really his place, that he was just being there for Tom. But at the same time that was his godchilds mum, it mattered.

“Honestly? Usually not, Y/n had very severe bleed… So she has been taken in for surgery, where the very talented surgeons are trying patch up the affected blood vessels. I’m afraid at this point that’s all I can really say.”

“So… she’s going to be okay?” It was desperate plea for something that, even if Tom wouldn’t admit, he didn’t really believe - it seemed as if none of the three in the room did.

“It’s not that easy I’m afraid. Assuming the surgeons can stabilise the bleeding and fix it…. with blood loss like she has suffered we… we don’t know what the effects of that will be. We tried to prevent as much damage to her brain and body as possible with transfusing blood into her and it was good that she was in hospital so could get treatment almost immediately…. But I’m afraid it’s simply too early to say. The first hurdle is going to be getting her out of surgery safely, only then can we deal with whatever happens next.”

Tom had so many emotions flashing through his head. He knew the doctor was trying to go slow to make the information a little more digestible but it was all so bloody incomprehensible. So when the greying man asked both men if they had any questions, neither took up his offer. Surely they both would after hours of processing and analysing but for right now? They were stunned into silence.

“Okay sir, now I hope you don’t mind me saying this but it really is important for you to hear. You are now a father, as Y/n is a mother. This situation is never easy but as a first time dad I need you to be aware that now your fiancé can’t be your only priority. We are all here to support you but please, just remember that.”

Harrison was so glad the doctor had said that, it was so completely true - yet Haz knew he didn’t have enough power to have said it to Tom. The whole thing was impossible and at the centre was an innocent, beautiful but totally dependant baby.

“What happens now then?” Haz had to ask on behalf of his friend, who was now completely overwhelmed. Dr Webber sighed, leaning back and rubbing his knees before answering.

“If the surgery is successful it’ll be at a best estimate two hours before we will have news for you , then she will be taken into intensive care where everything else would be assessed and further investigations would happen. You can both stay here or go get food, maybe go down and see the baby in the neonatal ICU? I personally promise that as soon as any of us get any news you will be the first to know.”

He was met with the sort of silence that makes you shiver. Sighing heavily, the doctor rubbed his knees, apparently preparing to leave. “This possibly one of the worst case scenarios that could’ve happened but Y/n is in the best hands and we will do everything for her. If you do think of anything you want clarification on, grab one of the nurses and they’ll come and find me.”

And then he left.

The room was deathly silent. Harrison couldn’t dare to look over at Tom - he knew what he would see and honestly seeing Tom like that would only make it worse. God knows how long they sat in those plastic lined, lightly padded hospital chairs. Both in silence. Just thinking… or more like worrying… or more like dreading. It was Tom who actually broke the silence first, his voice barely audible but still the meaning was crisp and clear.

“I can’t do it Haz” For the first time since the doctor was with them, Harrison looked at Tom, catching him directly in the eye. That hurt… Tom’s eyes looked so, so… hopeless. He knew what his broken friend was saying, but honestly Haz didn’t want to hear it so he did not respond. That didn’t stop Tom though, he continued. “I can’t do it. … I-I can’t be a dad without her… I just can’t.”

What the hell was Harrison supposed to say? There wasn’t really a guidebook to this situation. He was clueless. So, cautiously Harrison just leaned over, wrapping his arms round Tom as he all but collapsed into his friends chest. Tom was sobbing harshly as Harrison looked up at the ageing ceiling tiles, trying to surpress his own emotions because now clearly wasn’t about him.

“You can Tom… you have to.” His friend didn’t respond, well apart from harsh sobs that racked his frame. And so Harrison just let Tom cry, folded awkwardly and uncomfortably over the arm rest of the chairs, occasionally yelling into his chest at the unjustness of the situation.

It wasn’t fair. But it had still happened. And there was still a baby girl by herself downstairs.

//////

is this okay or too much? I won't write another part if generally people think its a bit too dark!!!!

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #tom holland x y/n #Tom Holland angst #angsty

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barnibumblr · 3 years

Text

No Secrets Among Sisters

Pairing: Ina x Lillian

Summary: Following the incident in the bookstore, Ina confides in her sister about the nature of her relationship with Bea.

Warnings: Just fluff!

Word count: 2607

Tagging: @ikingsley @kaitlynliaofanxx @kwaj115 @sheepmomther-personal @swimmingshoebakerydreamer

***

Ina knocks at the door, muttering to herself nervously “breathe Kingsley, just breathe”. Almost immediately a familiar voice rings out from inside, “coming!”.

The door swings open and Lillian stands on the step, smiling from ear to ear at the sight of her older sister. “Ina! Come in already, I was starting to forget what you looked like”, she teased. “Sorry Lil, I have been rather... Preoccupied”. She scolded herself internally as she stepped inside, ‘preoccupied?! Is that really all you could come up with?’.

The truth was that Ina had been avoiding her sister since the night at the Speakeasy and subsequently, finding out Bea was her student. The evasion wasn’t ignored. “So where’ve you been for the last three weeks? I thought you may have eloped for some illicit affair?” her sister joked, waving her hands dramatically as she headed for the kitchen. For a split second Ina froze, her mouth hanging wide open, she only hoped that Lillian’s choice of scenario was coincidental. ‘WITCHCRAFT’ she thought, ‘it’s the only plausible explanation’. Thankfully Ina had managed to compose herself when Lillian turned her attention back to her, “well?” she laughed.

Ina was no good at keeping secrets, the pair were close enough that Lillian would see straight through her and she was certainly no liar. There was a moment’s pause as Ina contemplated how to respond, she was almost consumed by the awkward silence when the youngest of the Kingsley women bound in to the room, “Auntie Inaaaaa”. Charlotte came running through, jumping straight in to Ina’s arms. “Oh how i’ve I missed these hugs” Ina exclaimed, whilst Charlotte all but squeezed the life out of her.

“Let’s get a good look at you” Ina said as she pulled back from Charlotte, turning her full circle and back to face her. Charlotte giggled as she went round, rolling her eyes as she lands back in front of her aunt. “Yes, you’ve definitely grown some” Ina concluded, eyes crinkling at the corners with the first heartfelt smile she had offered since arriving.

“Auntie Ina, will you come see my Lego? I’ve just finished building the Millennium Falcon!”. Charlotte was hopping on the spot in excitement, she really did take after her aunt when it came to her love of Star Wars. “I do really need to speak to Mummy a little first…” Ina started as she spared a glance at Lillian (who by now had stopped busying herself to listen), her attention was brought back to Charlotte when her shoulders visibly and quite dramatically deflated. “I have a mini Chewie?” Charlotte added, in a bid to sweeten the deal. Ina hummed, that’s when the young girl realised she needed to play her final card. ‘Is she giving me puppy dog eyes’ Ina thought to herself, internally appraising the mini genius, ‘oh god she is! Smooth move kid’. “You make an interesting offer little Kingsley” she finally answered.

Ina didn’t make a habit of saying no to her niece, she often felt the need to compensate for their lack of family, it really was just the three of them. That didn’t stop her milking it for what it was worth though, Ina convinced herself she was helping keep that super brain on it’s toes. “Do you think you could go get it ready and wait for me?” she finally caved, offering her pinky in promise. Charlotte smugly accepted before skipping back out the room.

Lillian moved to the table, “I’m guessing by your tone that I should probably sit down for this?” she asked. Ina couldn’t quite meet her sister’s eyes as she pulled out a chair “yes, that’s probably best”. Lillian shook her head, laughing silently “I knew something was off the moment you came in. You may have a PHD Ina Kingsley, but you are a terrible liar”. Ina finally looked up, “I am under no false illusion when it comes to my skills in lying” she replied, hands up in surrender. “However I really did think I had mastered the art of deflection!” She challenged, her expression mocking offence. “Not with me you haven’t” Lillian replied, pressing her lips firmly together as she slowly shakes her head.

“I’ve met someone” Ina finally admitted, turning serious.

“Ina! That’s great news, we should be celebrating? Why aren’t you happy?” Lillian questioned, eyebrows knitted tightly together. “Oh, make no mistake Lil, I am” Ina was quick to dispel that notion, sitting forward in her seat. Her eyes dropped back down, fixed on her hands, she twiddled her fingers nervously as she considered her next words.

Lillian focused on her older sister intently, giving her the space to continue. There were only two occasions she recalled seeing Ina this anxious, the first was when she came out to their parents, the second was when she helped Lillian tell them about the pregnancy. Neither conversation ended well.

The minute that passed had felt like forever and finally Ina continued, “I’m just not particularly sure you are going to approve of my decisions”. Lillian frowned at her accusingly, “I swear to god Ina, if you are sleeping with a married woman, I will disown you. You know how I feel about that. How you of all people should feel about that”. There it was, the conclusion Ina knew her sister would be jumping to, ‘two feet as always!’ she thought, huffing at the idea. “No Lil. I’m not, and will never be, the other woman” Ina spat, as if the words themselves were poisonous.”What then? Ina you couldn’t even play hooky at school, what could possibly be so bad?”.

Her wild imagination didn’t stop there, Ina would have almost found it comical if the situation wasn’t so dire. The older woman knew she should probably just come out with it, but it was so interesting to see where Lillian’s mind went. ‘Wow… I am a terrible person, this is not the time for subject analysis!’ Ina admonished herself, but it really was a force of habit.

“Is she serving time? Drugs? OH MY GOD… Please tell me it’s not a he?!” Lillian pushed, whispering the last part. That was it, Ina couldn’t stop the snort that escaped her. “Lillian stop!” Ina’s eyes were wide at the absurdities being thrown her way, although at this point she wondered if they were better than the truth. “For the record, absolutely not – on the males species I mean. Some things simply cannot be undone” she affirmed, a flicker of a smirk fading as quickly as it arrived.

Ina closed her eyes as if bracing herself “I need you to let me finish though. If I don’t tell you now I’m not certain I ever will” she pleaded, opening her eyes. She exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself and regain some resemblance of her usual composure. “She’s my…” Ina paused, summoning whatever courage she could from within. “She’s my student”.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Ina searched her sister’s eyes for a moment, eyes she knew well, eyes that mirrored her own. When Lillian eventually spoke, her voice was soft. “Oh Ina” she sighed.

The room was quiet, bar the ticking of the clock. Ina shifted uncomfortably in her seat, not really sure whether she should speak next or just leave whilst Lilian cradled her head in her hands. “Please say something” Ina breathed, “anything?”.

Lillian moved to prop her face on one hand before replying, “I don’t quite know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. This isn’t like you Ina?” she reflected, the disbelief evident on her features. “I know” Ina mumbled as she went back to toying with her thumbs. Another agonising pause left Ina rubbing her hand over her face, it was only then that Lillian noticed how tired she looked. In fact, this was a look normally reserved for a stressed Ina, the same Ina who wouldn’t have slept in three nights just to meet a deadline.

“Please don’t think for one minute, that I’m not already punishing myself for allowing it to get this far” Ina said as she met her sister’s gaze. “I know it’s inappropriate. Trust me when I say, I’ve tried to distance myself from her”.

“Clearly not enough!” Lillian immediately retorted. Ina winced. As much as it stung, she also knew it was true.

As difficult as she found the conversation, Lillian wasn’t about to let Ina off lightly. “Have you had sex with her?”. The question hung in the air.

“Yes” Ina simply replied, earning a groan from Lillian, who was now massaging her temples. “That was before discovering she was my student though” Ina quickly added, “not that it makes much difference at this point”. It was clear she had been berating herself enough, so Lillian eased off. “How?” Came her next question, much softer than before.

Ina leaned back her in her chair, relaxing only a little by the change of tone. “I was having a drink at that little speakeasy, when this young woman approached the bar. We only spoke briefly at first, whilst she was being served, but she was different. She had this air about her, she was just… Completely captivating!”. Lillian watched her sister smile fondly at the memory.

“Dare I say, I was devastated when she returned to her table. I was on my third old fashioned and feeling rather courageous, so I sent over a drink”. Lillian raised her eyebrows in surprise, it was’t like Ina to be so bold.

As much as Lillian tried to hide it, she was now fully invested in how the story would progress (she always was the soppier of the two). “Sooo? Did she come back?” she asked. Ina’s grin grew wide with triumph, “she did”.

“We must have spoken for a good couple of hours, it all felt so effortless. I knew I wanted to kiss her, but I wasn’t sure how I should go about it. I mean, I would consider myself a bit out of practice!” She chuckled, acknowledging her love life, or lack of. “Despite my earlier confidence, I just didn’t have the nerve. Thankfully that was something she wasn’t short of though, she seemed to pick her moment perfectly”. Ina started to rub the scar below her lip absentmindedly, as she recalled how they had shared their first kiss. The small gesture didn’t go unnoticed, nor did the light in her eyes as she went on. “One thing led to another and before I knew it, I was semi naked in one of the private lounges!” Ina finished in a rush. “I’ll spare you the details” she added, as a blush crept across her cheeks.

“So you really had no idea she was from Belvoire?” Lillian queried, her initial disapproval subsiding slightly. Ina shook her head, “I didn’t even know her name. I gave her my number but If I’m honest I wasn’t sure I would ever see her again. I was pleasantly surprised when she text me the next morning, and rewarded me with said name”. Lillian gave her sister an expectant look, “Bea” Ina breathed, answering the silent question.

Lillian could see the impact the young woman had already made on Ina, pushing her to almost feel sorry for her.

“Imagine my horror when I walked in to my first lecture the very next day, and Bea’s sitting three rows in”.

Ina explained that she had tried to stay away, but couldn’t ignore the connection they had. She joked how Bea might as well be living in her mind, rent free, only it wasn’t really a joke. Ina told Lillian how she had vowed to herself to keep things professional, however that was proving increasingly difficult.

Taking her older sister’s hands, Lillian prepared herself to approach the elephant in the room, the one they had both been dancing around for some time. “Ina, I’ve spent the last two years watching you bury your head in your career, helping you undo the damage she did”. Lillian paused as Ina interjected “you mean she who shall not be named?”. “Yes, Voldemort” Lillian replied, knowing Ina would appreciate her easing the conversation with some humour.

“You’ve barely been able to consider the possibility of love again, because of the pain she put you through. And the one time you do, it threatens to jeopardise the very thing that saved you”. Ina bit her lip as she gave Lillian’s words some real thought.

Lillian carried on “I know how much love you have to give and how desperately you want to give it. You have to ask yourself at what cost though Ina?” Before continuing, she stopped for a second to allow the message to sink in. “I want nothing more than for you to open your heart again, but you can’t be the only one making sacrifices. Especially not of this size, and not based on one night of passion”.

Although Lillian’s voice was one of warning, her eyes showed nothing but care. Ina pulled her hands away to wipe the tears that had to started to escape the corners of her eyes.

“I know you’re right Lillian. I have worked so hard for my career, I daren’t think about what I would do if I were to lose it”. Satisfied that she had highlighted the enormity of the risk (and that it had been understood), Lillian softened once again.

“You deserve the greatest love story of them all Ina. Do you really believe you are ready?”. Ina sighed softly as she thought about the prospect of some kind of ‘future’ with Bea. “I think she’s good for me Lil. In one breath she makes me nervous, but in the next she knows exactly what to say to put me at ease. She may be the cause of my turmoil but it’s like she is also the only resolution”.

“It’s wrong I know, but I can’t help wanting to explore this with her?” Ina said, running her hand through her hair.

“Okay enough of this” Lillian slammed her hands on the table, way harder than intended. “Here’s my advice Ina. You need to keeping working and keep it professional, as professional as possible. That doesn’t mean you can’t get to know her though. If this girl really is interested in you, she will put in the work, thus giving you the chance to work out how you really feel. Then and only then, can you decide where your moral compass wants to settle and if you are willing to put your job at stake”.

Ina nodded slowly, mulling it over, however Lillian wasn’t done. “In the meantime, why don’t you speak to Sam? She’s had her fair share of work place scandals after the whole Dalton/Russo saga, she might be able to offer you some sound advice”.

“That’s actually a really good idea” Ina replied, “she won’t judge me either”.

“Exactly, it’s always worth getting a second opinion from someone who isn’t blinded by sex appeal” Lilian teased as she got up and made her way round the table. “Wait a minute, isn’t that exactly what happened…” Ina was cut off by Lillian pulling her to her feet and giving her a tight embrace. “It’s going to be okay Ina. Thank you for being open with me”.

Breaking the hug and holding Ina at arms length, Lillian laughed at her sisters pout. “Now pull yourself together, get upstairs and see my daughter. I can’t deal with two mopey Kingsleys”, she added with a wink.

“Thank you Lil” Ina said earnestly as she straightened herself up, “I don’t know what I would do without you”.

***

#ina kingsley #ina x mc #professor kingsley #lillian kingsley #queen b #choices queen b #choices qb #playchoices #first fanfic #fanfiction #myfanfiction #fluff

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chaseatinydream · 3 years

Text

pirate king (14) || atz

Sweat drips from your forehead as you swing the wooden practice cutlass on deck in the same repeated actions Jongho and Yunho have drilled into you.

Left parry, right jab. Overhead swing, side slash. Dodge. Repeat.

Practicing is numb, mindless work. Honestly, you really hate it sometimes, but right now you’re ever so grateful for it. You take the time to organise your mind, your thoughts.

What do you do now?

Jongho, Seonghwa and San now know of your identity as a woman, and what you have learnt ever since your awakening. San is going to tell Yeosang about what the fortune teller had told you yesterday, and you may finally get some answers.

But something lingers on the edges of your conscience.

The sea witch.

The one who Seonghwa warned bargains with the mythical, the bridge between the supernatural and the mortal. And from the looks on San and Seonghwa’s faces, she didn’t sound like a person you’d want to meet.

Underhand swipe, stab.

“I am unworthy of looking upon her face, the one who you have made a deal with, the sea witch!”

Sidestep, lunge.

A deal.

You hunch over on your knees, panting as you take a break for a moment. The sky is still a dark indigo, the stars splattered across the deep purple canvas fading ever so slowly in preparation for the sun to take over their role.

“-a being of immense power that lives on an island that only people in great desperation can find-”

What had you been so desperate for as to turn to the supernatural? What could possibly be worth making a deal with the sea witch?

What had you gained?

You grip your sword tight once more, hate for all the hardships and agony your past self has put you through welling up inside of you.

You had woken up with absolutely nothing. You were completely alone.

Jab, slash.

What exactly had you given up?

Duck, stab.

Why did the fortune teller ask who had made you?

Wetness falls down your cheeks, but you don’t know whether it’s sweat or tears. Something about the word terrifies you. Why made? Why not ‘gave birth’? The way the fortune teller had spoken of you as if you are a piece of craft, not a human…

Why did she call the sea witch your mistress?

You toss the sword to the ground, panting from the exertion and the wild thoughts running through your head.

Did you sacrifice your memories?

“Hey, stowaway!”

You jump at the cheerful greeting, desperately wiping tears from your eyes that you hadn’t known were there.

“Yunho-hyung.” You internally curse the way your voice sounds like you’ve just swallowed a bucket of tar as the tall battlemaster makes his way across to you, his footsteps echoing abnormally loudly on the empty deck.

His hands are tucked into his pockets and his cheeks are apple red from the cold night air. Still, his grin is just as bright as it always is, and he stops next to you.

“Why are you up so early, stowaway?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You mumble back, shivering slightly. The sweat on your skin has started to evaporate, leaving a chill on your arms and neck. Yunho studies the cutlass on the ground, your puffy, bloodshot eyes and the downcast look on your face.

You open your mouth to explain, to come up with some stupid excuse, but Yunho merely smiles.

“Have you been in the crow’s nest before?”

“What?” You’re caught by surprise by this question, not something you’d have expected to leave his mouth. The lookout merely continues smiling at you, waiting for an answer patiently. “Well, no.”

“That’s good.” Yunho grins at you charmingly. When you frown at him, a little confused, he explains. “That means I’m gonna be the first one to bring you up there.”

Gesturing for you to leave your sword where it is, he takes you by the wrist, long fingers encircling yours completely, leading you to the foremast. Yunho then places your hands against the coarse, thick ropes of the rigging, gently closing your fingers around them.

“Are you scared of heights?”

“Not really.” You reply honestly, but you are a little worried that you might fall like the clumsy fool that you are. You crane your head back, looking upwards.

The crow’s nest is pretty high up.

“Are you afraid of heights, Yunho-hyung?” You ask. The lookout laughs, clearly amused at your silly question and motions for you to climb.

“I am a lookout, you know. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to catch you if you fall.”

You stare at him nervously, placing a foot on the rigging. “But I had three pastries yesterday. And another chicken drumlet. And some of that pie Seonghwa-hyung baked before I left. And-”

Yunho waves your protests off cheerfully. “No worries, just trust me!”

Just trust me.

Turning back to the rigging, you suck in a breath and begin to climb. You’ve never worked around the rigging and masts like you’ve seen Yunho and Wooyoung do so often, instead staying closer to the deck like San and Seonghwa. The two are in the rigging so often, spending more time among the ropes than on deck, laughing and chatting away.

For a moment, you feel like you’re intruding on their space.

The climb upwards is a little tricky as the rope twists and flexes beneath you, but you’re determined to make it all the way to the top by yourself. Straining with the effort, you finally drag yourself feebly over the lip of the crow’s nest and flop into it, sweat dripping from you every orifice.

“That was a good first try!” Yunho cheers as his mop of brown hair appears at the railing merely seconds after you’ve crawled in. You stare at him in disbelief from below.

“I thought you said you were going to catch me if I fell!”

Yunho cocks his head at you curiously as he perches on the railing precariously, an inch or so from a bad fall back to the main deck. “I was! I only started climbing after you reached the top.”

Your jaw smashes into the ground.

Yunho gives you an easy grin, patting your head in encouragement. Really, what is with all your crew members liking to pat you on the head? You’re about to ask him why when he looks away from you, admiring the horizon with a smile.

“So, why the long face?”

At his question, you jerk a little in shock. He seems to be a lot more observational than you have given him credit for.

“I am the lookout, after all.”

You gulp.

“And yes, you said that out loud.”

“Sorry!” You squeak, but Yunho doesn’t take any offence at your words. Instead, he merely grins at you with a cheeky, boyish smile.

“How about you tell me why you had such a long face as apology, then?”

You puff out your cheeks. You feel like Yunho has just tricked you into coming up here to make you spill the beans about all of your deepest, darkest secrets, but of course you can’t tell him that you’re worried about what the fortune teller has told you. As much as you trust the members of the ship, you don’t know how they’d react if you blurted to all of them that you could hear the sea monster’s voice and that you were starting to get afraid of what the fortune teller had woven as your future.

So you try to keep things as vague as possible.

“Nothing much.” You attempt to play it off light, fiddling with the crystal at the end of your necklace as you close your eyes and lean back against the mast, trying to appear as calm as possible. “I was just thinking about my memories, you know. If I had a mother.” A dry laugh leaves your mouth as you think about the possibility of the sea witch being your mother. “Maybe I could have had parents waiting for me wherever my home is. Siblings, even.”

Yunho is silent for a while. Then he suddenly speaks up.

“Do you know what these are?” He points to the two silver rings braided into his hair. They’ve always just been there, from the very first day you’d met him down at the harbor of Raguza, so you’ve simply assumed that it is some kind of habit of his. Honestly, you haven’t given it much thought, so you shake your head.

“These are rings of victory.” Yunho says, his voice suddenly soft as he fingers the silver bands. You stare at them a little more closely. “I got one for my first victory... And the second one for my hundredth.”

There’s something delicate in the air, invisible but completely tangible. You don’t dare to raise your voice over a whisper.

“What victories?”

“Victories in the arena.” Yunho says the word ‘arena’ with so much bitterness, sadness, anguish that for a moment, you can almost feel his raw emotions washing over you like a tidal wave. “Before I joined the crew of the Treasure… I was a gladiator.”

You’re stunned into silence for a moment.

Yunho has always been so happy, so cheerful, so happy-go-lucky, a literal ray of sunshine. You can’t believe that he could have endured such torment and pain in the past.

“I see.” Is all that leaves your mouth, but there’s so much more you want to say.

“I had a brother. His name was Gunho.” Yunho looks lost in the past, fixated on a dream, far, far away. “He was nicer, kinder, gentler. Always the better one of the two of us.”

You want to argue with that, but he continues before you can say anything.

“We were both sold into slavery by our parents. All we had was each other. I remember the first time he stepped into the arena, he was so scared to the point he kept shaking in his boots. I volunteered to go in his place. That’s how I got this.”

You watch with bated breath as Yunho pulls the collar of his shirt down to reveal a long, ugly scar at his shoulder, dangerously close to where his jugular is, as San has taught you. If the blade had been a couple of inches to the left, Yunho wouldn’t be here with you right now.

And that scares you, for some reason you don’t want think about.

You don’t know what to say. Why is Yunho sharing with you all this, something so close to his heart?

“I did everything I could to keep him safe. It was silly, now that I think about it. He was always a better fighter than me.” Yunho muses to himself in silent mirth, shaking his head as he shrugs the shirt back over his shoulder. “But I was the older brother. I was supposed to take care of him.”

You don’t like where the sound of this is going.

“But he’s gone now.” Yunho’s smile is brittle, as if it might break if you so much as touch it. His voice is nothing above a wavering whisper. “Dead and gone. And I wasn’t even by his side when it happened.”

“Why?” You find yourself asking, even before you can run it by your mind. “What happened?”

Yunho closes his eyes for a moment, clearly fighting to keep his emotions at bay as they play out across his face. Then he speaks, his throat tight.

“A patron admired me for my skill and bought my freedom, but not my brother’s.” Yunho’s words are soft, but clear as water and you hang on to every word. “I joined the Treasure to earn enough to buy my brother’s freedom… but by the time I returned to my hometown, Gunho was dead.”

His voice cracks ever so slightly even though the smile never leaves his face.

“Did you know? My brother died from the same illness as Jongho’s mother did.” Yunho adds on quietly, lost in thought. A heavy, crushing feeling sinks like a stone in your chest and you feel something prick at the corner of your eyes. You blink the feeling away in surprise.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, and you feel Yunho’s pain as if it’s your own. If you ever had family, like he had, and you’d lost them… The feeling is familiar to you, as if you’ve felt it before.

But something is different.

No… you didn’t lose him…

You left him behind.

Something bubbles in the back of your mind and your eyes fly wide with horror, you jerk upright to stare at Yunho. You try desperately to chase the thought, but when you shut your eyes, all you see is the same thing you always do.

White beach, the waves washing over your legs as you sit in the sand. Rain touching your face, storms at your feet.

Then nothing.

“Anyway, what I intended for you to hear is that there’s always a dawn, even to the darkest nights.” Yunho says quietly, his words gentle. “Even though I thought I’d lost it all when I found out about my brother’s death, I realised I gained a new family. You might have lost your memories, but at least you have us with you. You’re our family. You are someone to us.”

You are someone to us.

His hand closes around yours. You turn to look at him, eyes wet with emotion. He doesn’t face you, instead pointing at the horizon.

“Look.”

The sun is beginning to rise.

The pair of you sit in comfortable silence as the sun slowly emerges from behind the sea. The darkness of the sky flees as the rosy light chases it away, streaks of pink and orange painting the sky.

You don’t know how long you sit there till someone calls for you from below.

“Yunho-ah! Stowaway!” To your surprise, it’s Yeosang, but there’s something off about him. From up on the crow’s nest, you can see him fidgeting nervously hopping from foot to foot as he looks up at the two of you. He looks like he’s literally brimming with happiness.

“What is it, Yeosang-ah?” Yunho shouts back, your hand falling from his.

There’s a massive grin on the navigator’s face, even as he tries to fight it back.

“Captain wants to see us!”

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greenygreenland · 3 years

Text

Shy: Bad Batch x Reader

Summary:

Initiallly, you are worried about meeting the Bad Batch but eventually come to some mutual understanding of what it feels like to be the odd one out.

-i never finished this until now lol

-i wrote this as soon as s7 ended what

-now it's nov and i'm quaking

The Bad Batch: an abnormal bunch, rowdy group of weirdos, the black sheeps of the GAR, a bad batch, dysfunctional, et cetera, et cetera. You heard so many rumours and comments floating around about that group while other times, nothing at all. They were science experiments made by the Kaminoans and absolutely nothing like their brothers, both in looks and personality.

They had been trained separately from their brothers, and from what you knew, were practically a family on their own.

"So, this is the 'Bad Batch'?" you whispered to Cody. His lips were pressed into a thin line while his brows knitted together. Either he was in deep thought, or uncomfortable (you sensed it to be the latter) with how close you two stood. He had told you a few stories of his own adventures with the group, and although they didn't seem all too bad, you weren't so sure about these boys. "Remind me why I'm here Cody." you whispered. He raised a brow and said, "You were assigned to aid Clone Force 99 in their upcoming mission. You are expected to complete the mission and were given a full seven rotations to do so. A quick summary is that you were tasked to infiltrate and destroy a Seperatist base and return--safely on General Kenobi's request."

"Only because they didn't know where else to deploy me." you grumbled. Turning to Cody, you dramatically sighed. Only being Knighted as of yesterday left you in an odd position. Where were you to go now that you didn't follow your ex-master, Obi-wan, like a lost puppy? Where were you to go now that you were fully independent from him? Cody patted your shoulder, a gesture solely reserved for you. "They aren't too bad Com--General."

"That's not the point Cody. If they're as good as I've heard, I'll only be extra luggage." Cody frowned. "That's not true." He tone was firm and you sensed he meant it. "You're as capable, maybe even more, than them. I have no doubt that you will be completely immaculate on this mission." He paused thoughtfully, giving the open docking bay a good survey. "You're strong General," he added. "Don't ever forget that."

You smiled at him in appreciation. "Thanks Cody, for being here for me as always." He returned the smile. "We're...we're friends, yes?"

"Without a doubt." You fixed your gaze on the approaching men and folded your arms over your chest. They were, as expected, as odd bunch. One was super macho while another was as thin as a stick, another looked like a total nerd while the last of the four looked...pretty normal compared to his brothers. You shifted from foot to foot. As they stared you down, you couldn't help but feel the slightest bit intimidated.

"I'm worried." you whispered, eyeing the clone who wore a red headband-bandana-thing stepped forward. He nodded your way, eyes sharp and calculating. "Don't be." he said. You instinctively turned to Cody with a silent look for help. "Hunter has enhanced senses." he explained.

You suddenly felt very, very dumb. "Why didn't I know that?" you whispered. Cody had the strong urge to roll his eyes. "Because you weren't listening when I briefed you this morning. You were caught up in finishing something assigned to you last week." You blinked, a sigh escaping your lips. "Right. Right. Thanks Cody." You turned to the Bad Batch, whom were sending each other amused glances. You sensed a shared bewilderment among them relating to your dynamic with Cody, but none had the guts to speak about it.

At least not yet.

Offering a small wave, you said, "Hello there. I...assume you already know me--or at least have heard my name."

"You're General (Y/n) Skywalker." the nerd said. "Younger sister of General Anakin Skywalker by three years, recently knighted--yesterday--and known to be fierce in battle, which earned you the name--"

"Oh shut it Tech."

You cast a glance at the one who had spoken: Mr. Macho. He gave Tech a punch on the arm, but not enough to hurt him. "I see he has done an...extensive amount of research." you commented. Cody nodded in agreement and Tech merely smiled in response. "Besides my extensive amount of knowledge, allow me to introduce you to Clone Force 99, or as you may have heard, the Bad Batch. I'm Tech. That over there is Wrecker." He pointed to Mr. Macho. "That's Crosshair." He pointed to the stick-man. "And that's Hunter, otherwise known as our self-proclaimed leader." The boys chuckled at this, leaving you slightly less intimidated by their demanding presence. Cody patted your shoulder and you turned to him uncertainly. He subtly smiled at you reassuringly. "I'll leave you to it. Take care of the General."

"Not to worry Commander," Hunter said, "she's in good hands." You sensed a mix of dount and amusement roll off Cody's shoulders, but he kept his mouth shut as usual. He sent you a nod in farewell before walking off into the hanger. You watched him disappear in the sea of sweaty men and droids. Boy were you going to miss him. A frown etched its way onto your lips as you awkwardly turned to the Bad Batch. "So, about the mission?"

---

The trip through hyperspace started off as quiet, save for the occasional joke thrown by Wrecker. Although large and macho, he was a real sweetheart, much like your late friend Waxer. Wrecker knew you were nervous around them, so he unconsciously took it upon himself to break the ice--which didn't exactly work as he anticipated.

Crosshair had been sending you subtle glances of judgment every now and then. When you caught him staring, Hunter spoke in his place. "We don't usually work with clones outside our squad, especially Jedi for that matter." he smoothly offered. "Don't take it personal if we're not...used to having you around." You nodded in understanding from where you sat. That was reasonable, especially since they were build and trained differently from their brothers. They all seemed so close-knit, so it would make sense for you to be an outsider. You didn't know what to say, so you kept as quiet as a mouse.

It was really uncomfortable though. Why did it have to be so awkward? Why were you so awkward? Why couldn't you just hold a conversation?

"I've heard stories of General Skywalker." Tech chirped. "Your personality contrasts from his." You shrugged, forcing a smile to break the ice. "That's what I'm known for. My friend Ahsoka used to say I was born with all the brain cells." There was a pang in your heart and again, silence in the ship. You tried to tell yourself to push back all the dark thoughts and quickly building stress, but it was hard to when it was so damn quiet. You suddenly wished you hadn't been knighted, and that you were still a padawan stuck by Obi-wan's side with the comfort of Cody. You didn't think you were ready yet. It was too early.

Hunter eyed you carefully and it suddenly occured to you that maybe he could hear how loud your heart rammed against your ribs. Cody said he had enhanced senses, and that was a good thing for him, but you couldn't say the same for yourself. "I don't mean to be rude, but you look worried." Hunter began. "I don't mean any offence General--"

"No, no." You softly smiled to ease the suffocating atmosphere. "I'm out of my comfort zone is all. That and..." You didn't know how to say that you were shy and a bit scared to talk to new people. A Jedi was supposed to be calm, collected, and ready for the unexpected during these tough tines. You were a General now, not some little padawan afraid of her own shadow.

"You're shy." Tech realised. You folded your hands together on your lap with a small shrug. It was hard for you to admit it out loud, but you agreed anyway. "Maybe a little." Crosshair gave you a stare you couldn't decipher. It was everchanging with his emotions, first intrigued, then surprised, then...what was it? You weren't sure. He was harder to read than most people you've met.

"It's okay if you're shy." Tech said. You liked how amiable he was. "I used to be shy too, but then I realised there wasn't much point in it when I wanted to share all the things I've learned." You drank in every word he said, appreciating how wise they were. Kaminoans always said clones were only tools bred gor war, but you always disagreed. They were human and had feelings. Some were gentle like Tech, others standoffish like Hunter or Wolffe, and a wonderful few your best friends.

"Is there a reason why you're shy too?" Tech inquired. Hunter looked like he wanted to step in and tell Tech he had crossed the line by asking a Jedi a personal question. You took note of that and waved it off. Yes, being a Jedi meant you had authority, but did it mean people should be afraid of their own curisoity? No. They had a right to ask, even if it was personal.

"My brother's rambunctious, loud, and incredibly reckless at times. He's emotional, sometimes a bit rude, and not the ideal Jedi people would think of when they hear 'the Chosen One'. I'm quiet. I prefer books over a good 'negotiation'." You 'pffted' and met the eyes if your new companions. "By that, I mean running head-first into battle while swinging your lightsaber." The boys nodded in understanding and you continued.

"Sorry if I sound so...direct, especially since I've only met you all today, but I feel like I'm too different. Like...like I'm the odd one out." You thought back to how Anakin won your freedom all those years ago through that stupid pod race. He was a natural at everything, and you had to say, luck favoured him over you. You didn't know how to repair ships, spin around in space to avoid enemies, or do all the things your brother succeeded in. All you had was a title for being deadly in battle, which in itself was a curse.

You were a Jedi, a 'keeper of peace' who was supposed to be good at meditating. You weren't a soldier like Cody or all the other clones, in fact, you were nothing compared to your brother. He was known to be a great Jedi Knight while you considered yourself lucky for being Knighted so early. Leaders or Generals weren't supposed to be shy like you. They asserted dominance, or rather, took charge and led from the front, not the back.

"I'm not as good as my brother at anything. I'm not good with people, I'm not a leader. I only have one title because I'm 'good in battle', or whatever... Farfiek, how did I even become a Jedi Knight anyway? Ni'm an di'kut." You kicked at air, completely oblivious to the surprised faces of your companions. "Hah!" exclaimed Gregor. "So she knows Mandalorian!" Tech blinked, scratching at his temple absentmindedly. "And apparently a bit Huttese."

You sensed the positive shift in the atmosphere and turned to meet their gazes. Hunter tried for a smile, but it was almost impossible to see. "With all due respect, I don't think you're as useless as you think, General. Can you speak Mando'a?"

"Elek Ni liser."

"Huttese?"

"Tagwa."

"What about...Jawa?"

"Ibana."

Hunter and the boys exchanged glances of approval with each other. Tech smiled brightly. "That's amazing General! In total, you speak four languages including Basic while the average person speaks either one or two at most. How did you learn all those languages?" You shrugged. "I read a lot in my spare time and practiced on Cody. He speaks a good amount of Huttese now because I practiced that with him the most."

Tech looked like he would cry from joy. You assumed he was simply that impressed by your 'skills' that it brought tears to his eyes, but you couldn't be sure. "Tech's a real nerd." Crosshair suddenly said. "He probably thinks you're a goddess right about now." You chuckled a little as Hunter pulled out a holoprojector. "It's good to see everyone's warmed up a bit." he admitted. "Who's up for reviewing the mission plans?"

You glanced at the faces of your companions. The atmosphere had changed again, and it made you feel all warm inside. Perhaps Cody was right. You were going to do fine on this mission.

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars x reader #star wars the clone wars x reader #clone troopers #bad batch

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queenk00k · 4 years

Text

but what if we were pure gold all along? jj maybank (chapter 4)

Summary: After the assumed death of their best friend, the Pogues are falling apart at the seams. With Pope and Kiara getting closer and JJ left with nowhere to go, he finds himself left to his own devices. Feeling lost and rejected, his luck seems to turn when he meets Scarlett - a Kook who doesn’t treat him like shit and has an affinity for partying. JJ gets sucked into her world as she promises to help him forget.

How much longer can he keep running from his demons? And what happens when he starts sharing a bed with one?

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, child abuse, angst, sexual content, drug use, underage drinking.

Author’s note: Hi all, this is my multi-chapter fic I’ve been working on. My oneshots & Rafe series have taken off so I thought it was time to share this one too. Let me know what you think!

Word count: 2K

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

the one where JJ makes his choice pretty clear

After two weeks of spending almost every waking minute with his new friend, JJ is starting to wonder if he’ll be able to keep up with her for much longer. Scarlett’s appetite for debauchery and disaster was insatiable and despite JJ’s best efforts to slow her down (“why don’t we just get lunch?” “why the fuck would we do that?”), she seemed intent on showing JJ a good time, Kook style.

After the initial night at Scarlett’s family mansion, where JJ climbed in her bedroom window like some sort of roughed up Edward Cullen and they drank their way through her mother’s gin collection, it had become a habit of JJ’s to seek Scarlett out at any opportunity. Not only was she the only person who seemed to want to spend time with him, something JJ was still reconciling, but God was she fun. Scarlett took quickly to riding on the back of JJ’s dirt bike, sharing a joint and even had a go at shooting JJ’s gun (a short lived adventure, since a firing mishap caused JJ to leap to the side of the yard to avoid losing a pinky toe). Scarlett was easy to spend time with, a breath of fresh air and a reprieve from the drama and darkness JJ had been experiencing when he last saw the Pogues.

Who, by the way, have still neglected to get in contact with him.

JJ has been holding onto false hope. He’s swinging between complete disbelief and hurt that his friends haven’t spoken to him in two weeks, and almost blinding rage that he apparently means so little to them. He doesn’t often have that much time to dwell on it though, since every time he’s remotely upset or quiet as a result of his former-but-the-jury’s-still-out-on-that friends, Scarlett is there to pick him right up and distract him in all the ways she knows how.

They spend most of their nights drinking on the beach or at Scarlett’s house, where her parents are never really around, since JJ swore up and down that he was never going to a Kook party with Scarlett. She had tried to convince him to no avail and gave up pretty quickly when JJ pointed out Rafe Cameron would most likely be in attendance, since he wasn’t even trying to lay low after literally murdering someone, and JJ was not going to be held liable for any injuries he may cause. So they settled for each other’s company – sharing joints that JJ taught Scarlett how to roll, stacking beer bottles, going on late night motorbike rides and in one instance, seeing how easily they could blow something up. It didn’t take much convincing for JJ to change his phone background, the cracked screen now giving way to a photo of him and Scarlett messing about on his bike.

Simply put, JJ is trying his best to forget about the whole “one of my best friends is missing and presumed dead and the others don’t even want to talk to me” situation.

Scarlett is a nice distraction.

It helps that she’s gorgeous.

JJ isn’t stupid, he knows he’s spending time with someone absolutely beautiful and at times he struggles to understand why she would want to slum it with him. He’s not immune to how soft her thigh is when it brushes against his, or how her smile always reaches her eyes where the skin around them creases as she laughs, or how cute she looks with her dark hair tied up. JJ figures she must think something of him too – he notices how her hands linger longer on his waist when he brings his bike to a halt, how she’s affectionately started calling him Jay, and he certainly hasn’t forgotten how Scarlett kissed him on the cheek as he left her house last night.

JJ is as shocked as anyone would be that he’s started hanging out with a Kook, let alone calling her his friend and admitting to himself that he finds her hot. He’d be stupid not to, he is a sixteen-year-old guy after all, and she’s a stunning rich girl with a pert ass and deep brown eyes. He’s only human.

A knock on the front door of the Chateau brings JJ out of his reverie and he swings his legs around to hop off the couch where he’s been lying for the last three hours. After another late night at Scarlett’s the evening before, JJ somehow made his way home to crash on the couch to get some sleep before Scarlett was due to come over.

JJ runs his hand through his messy blonde hair and pads over to the door, yawning widely as he pulls it open. Scarlett is standing on the porch steps, dressed in her usual sundress and holding two six packs.

She lifts both arms up in excitement as she says “Jay! Long time no see!”

JJ shakes his head and smiles softly to himself, stepping aside to let Scarlett walk in the front door. She twirls dramatically as she crosses the threshold and makes a direct beeline for the fridge, bottles clanking as she shoves them onto the shelf.

JJ follows her and leans against the kitchen doorframe, accepting a bottle of beer and popping the cap off with his sharp incisor.

“Welcome back, Scarlett. It’s only been, what, ten hours since we last saw each other?”

Scarlett rolls her eyes. “What, you got something better to do?”

JJ laughs hoarsely as he replies, “you know the answer to that.”

Scarlett bumps her hip into his as she squeezes through to doorway and winks at him. “I need to sit down,” she says. “I’m beat.”

JJ adjust the front of his shorts and grimaces. It appears he needed to relax too.

He makes his way to the living room with a half full beer bottle, the condensation coating his fingers and making the neck of the bottle slippery. JJ notices Scarlett has already downed one drink and is making some good headway on her second, before he decides to tilt the bottle down and away from her lips.

Scarlett glares at him and purses said lips, and JJ fights the urge to stare at them, forcing his eyes to remain locked on hers.

“What did you do that for?” She asks, looking grumpy.

JJ thinks she looks cute.

He shrugs. “Maybe you could slow down. It’s 3pm,” he replies.

“Hair of the dog,” Scarlett says as she completely defies JJ’s suggestion and finishes her second bottle, letting out a small burp as she does.

“Oops,” she giggles.

JJ sighs but he’s not mad, not really, and he lets Scarlett know by patting her on the knee, resting his hand there for slightly longer than necessary.

“Drink up wuss,” Scarlett says, winking at him and JJ would be stupid not to do what she says, so he downs his beer too and cracks open another one.

Scarlett is scrolling through her Spotify and trying to get it Bluetooth connected to the old speakers next to the couch (JJ has told her before that it won’t work but she’s stubborn, alright, and insists on trying), and JJ is sat in quiet contemplation on the couch when a sharp knock on the door reverberates through the room.

Scarlett’s head snaps up, her top bun bobbing as she turns towards JJ, eyes wide.

“Who’s that?” She asks. They weren’t expecting any guests.

“Shit,” says JJ, standing up and placing his beer on the floor. “It’s probably my Dad. Fuck.”

“Your dad? What is he doing here?”

JJ shakes his head and presses a finger to his lips. “Stay here, do not come out under any circumstances, you understand? I’ll talk to him for a bit and then hopefully he’ll fuck off, but if anything happens, just go out the back door okay?”

Scarlett narrows her eyes in confusion. “And just leave you here? No way.”

Another series of sharp knocks, this time more urgent.

“Scarlett, I don’t have time to argue. Just tell me you’ll get out of here, okay?”

Scarlett looks like she has the time to argue but nods anyway. “Okay.”

JJ steels himself and sets his jaw as he cautiously walks down the hallway and opens the front door.

It’s Kiara and Pope.

JJ blinks slowly. “What are you doing here?” He says abruptly, skipping the pleasantries.

Kiara looks at him, bemused. “No ‘hey Kie, nice to see you?’”

JJ scoffs. “No offence, Kiara, but I’m not too sure you deserve that right now.”

Kiara opens her mouth to respond, ever the hot-headed one, when Pope has the right idea to butt in.

“We missed you man; can we talk?” He says, fiddling with his cap.

JJ steps out onto the porch, leaving the door slightly ajar. “Yeah, we can talk. Where the fuck have you been?”

“It’s complicated-”

“-I couldn’t see you-”

“-it’s been really hard for us-”

JJ has to laugh at that one, and he turns to Kiara, eyes ablaze with fury. “It’s been really hard for you? Are you fucking kidding me? YOU LEFT ME! ALONE!”

Kiara steps back from JJ, as if she’s scared, and Pope brings his hand to the small of her back to comfort her.

“Come on man, there’s no need-”

“Where were you, Kiara? Why didn’t you talk to me?”

Kiara’s dark eyes fill with tears and her chin starts to wobble. “JJ, you know my parents, they had me on lockdown-”

JJ can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You could see Pope.”

“He’s my boyfriend JJ, and you’ve always known what my parents think-”

Pope has the good grace to stay quiet and let them at it.

“So what the fuck am I then? Huh?”

JJ wouldn’t have noticed Scarlett sneaking up behind him if it weren’t for the sudden hardened look in Kiara’s eyes.

JJ spins around, jaw clenched, as Scarlett asks, “What’s going on here?”

Kiara’s mouth drops open. “A Kook, JJ? Seriously? You’re fucking a Kook?”

JJ’s mouth opens and closes as he struggles to reply. “I-we’re not, we’re friends-we aren’t-”

“This is unbelievable,” Kiara spits. “I thought better of you JJ.”

Scarlett stares Kiara down, folding her arms across her chest.

“She was here for me, Kiara! You weren’t! You were NOWHERE TO BE FOUND! Some fucking friend you are!” JJ shouts.

Kiara looks like she wants to stay more but she decides against it as she simply mutters “unbelievable,” and throws her hands up, walking away.

JJ’s chest heaves and heart pounds with adrenaline as Pope looks at him apologetically.

“Man, I’m sorry, I have to go too, she’s my girlfriend-”

JJ cuts him off. “Whatever man; just leave. You’re good at that anyways.”

Pope looks hurt but simply nods at JJ and turns to run after Kiara as she stalks down the driveway, long cardigan flowing behind her.

Scarlett sighs and places her hand delicately on JJ’s shoulder, and it takes everything in him not to lean into her touch.

“Drink?” She says.

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awomanofscience · 3 years

Text

HEADCANON: On Carina and "filthy pirates"

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

TL;DR:

Carina has a Canonically disparaging view of pirates that I believe is influenced by her upbringing within the fold of "polite" society, the fact she's not a perfect character, and her treatment at the hands of Jack and crew. Their shared adventure and her familial connection (via. Barbossa) somewhat challenges this perception. More, positive encounters with pirates and a better understanding of their motivations would do this better. Eventually, I think she'd find certain elements of the pirate's life appealing (freedom from social constraints, fighting back, etc.).

*Longer explanation under the cut*

Throughout Dead Men Tell No Tales and her spin-off novelisation, it's pretty obvious that Carina has a disparaging view of pirates. There's evidence of this everywhere:

Calling Jack a "filthy pirate" during their near-execution

Expressing no moral opposition to his execution, unlike her own ("Kill the filthy pirate. I'll wait.")

Repeating the insult "filthy pirate" several times throughout the film

Refusing to believe one of Jack's crew could have an educated parent ("You're telling me your mother was academically inclined?")

Taking offence to Barbossa suggesting her father was a thief, particularly because he's a pirate ("The memory of my father will not be defiled by the tongue of a pirate!")

Regularly using "pirate" as an insult/judgement of character

Her perception of pirates doesn't really change until towards the end of the film, when she learns that one of the most infamous pirates of her time - Barbossa - was her father all along.

As an otherwise unusually progressive personality, why does she automatically take this view?

Carina is a product of her upbringing in "polite" society

For all the hardships she's endured throughout her life, financial/social hardship isn't really one of them.

Unlike pretty much every orphaned child in her time, Carina is neither condemned to the streets nor to a workhouse. Instead, she's sent to a "children's home" run by a rich and charitable benefactor in the countryside. This is highly unusual for her setting, given that the first real orphanage in the UK - The Foundlings Hospital - was opened in 1741. The orphanage movement didn't really take off until the mid 19th century, and although a few places did exist beforehand, most parentless kids were simply... abandoned. Some went to monasteries, others to work (and likely die) in workhouses. Some ended up on the streets. But very few were admitted into care.

In this care, Carina was also fortunate to get some semblance of an education. She's literate, well-spoken, has a higher-than-average understanding of the world around her, and is even tutored to near-fluency in Italian. The objective of this education is to turn Carina into a young lady worthy of polite society, and who can take up a working position in an upper-class household.

And this is what happens. Her first job is as a maid to the extremely wealthy Lady Devonshire, but she doesn't stay in this position for long. After bonding over their love for astronomy, she's taken in as a Lady Devonshire's ward. This is emphasised to be an elevated position that earns her a room in the estate, relief from her duties as a maid, and even curtseys from the other staff. She's in this role for four years before she leaves for St. Martin, directly before the events of the film.

The point of this context is to show that whilst canon!Carina has absolutely suffered hardship and discrimination (I am by NO means saying that 18th c. orphanages were good places to live), she still had a relatively privileged and sheltered life, compared to others like her, before DMTNT. She was brought up by and lived in "polite" society as a member of it in her own right, and so naturally reflects some of the attitudes that she doesn't yet know to challenge.

Before DMTNT, her perceptions aren't challenged

Carina doesn't live in a period where privileged society understood the links between social/financial desperation and piracy. Until you either lived or saw it for yourself, what evidence did you have to know to challenge the narrative? Carina grew up far removed from anywhere where she could see or experience it first-hand, and had nothing but stories and what she was taught to go by. And let's also be honest - real-life piracy could reap violent and unjustified consequences for innocent people. Without ever meeting a pirate for herself, or having a sympathetic example to relate to, how can see them as anything but the bogeyman?

Carina isn't a perfect person. She's highly flawed, and only truly understands how social barriers have impacted her and influenced her choices. Part of her journey throughout DMTNT is learning how they impact others, too.

Her first impressions of pirates don't exactly challenge them either (tw: sexism, objectification)

Carina's first encounters with pirates include being tricked and thrown off a building, bound and held captive, continuously condescended for being a woman, sexually objectified, and countless other pretty shit things that don't really do much to challenge what she thinks she knows.

Jack's crew treat her pretty awfully and belittle her throughout most of the film, and Jack's has his moments too (undressing scene on the boat, anyone?). I actually take issue with this narratively as a lot of this treatment makes no sense given the events of the previous films. But it's "canon", and it's pretty reasonable for Carina to feel negatively towards the only pirates she's met under those circumstances.

She isn't shown any respect from a pirate until Barbossa gives her the wheel of the Black Pearl, and even then we get that stupid line from Mullroy/Murtogg: "Sir, you wouldn't allow a woman to steer your ship...?"

Honestly? Throughout most of the film, Carina doesn't get to meet a "good" pirate who she can empathise with. By the end, she has both a shared experience and familial connection to begin the process of challenging her perceptions, but little else to take it further.

Do I think her views would continue post DMTNT?

No, I don't. Finding out Barbossa was her father was the first "big" step towards canon!Carina empathising more with at least one pirate. But even then, I headcanon that she would have a really hard time coming to terms with it, and the objectively awful things he's done, once the initial emotion wore off.

What Carina needs is to meet not awful examples of pirates that don't interact with her exclusively with put-downs, discrimination, and objectification, and learn more about what motivates them/the hardships they're often trying to escape. I think later conversations with both Will and Elizabeth would go a long way towards this in Canon, and am hoping to explore this with other characters here too.

I actually think Carina would eventually find some elements of piracy attractive. The idea of living a comparatively "free" life outside of society's constraints, and getting to "fight back" against the authorities that have persecuted her for so long.

BUT, I don't believe she'd ever really be on board with violence and acting against the innocent. Not outside my more "Dark Carina" verse anyway.

Does she take this view towards everything she's taught by society?

Absolutely not. I am not saying at all that Carina accepts all truths as taught by society as being absolute truths, including ones that don't relate to her. She is not discriminatory, or judgemental, and society was (and is) in many, many ways. But it's easier for her to accept "all pirates bad" as truth when there's significant evidence to support it right in front of her.

Summary? It's hard to challenge what you're taught as an absolute until you know how to. Carina does this well in some areas, but not in others - and that includes piracy. DMTNT gave her nothing to challenge her perceptions, so I'm going to do it here instead ;)

#✧ — headcanons #✧ — long post #{ I don't know if I explained this very well }#{ I just think that as much as Carina challenges social expectations she knows are bogus she doesn't know to challenge this one }#{ especially after having bad personal experiences }#{ she knows there's no way a person can be born lesser than another (i.e. being a woman) }#{ but she doesn't yet understand why someone would choose piracy when she associates it with violence and cruelty }

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things-we-used-tc-share · 3 years

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The Town That Never Was

[Image Description: a long road with decaying plants on either side, with text overlayed that reads ‘the town that never was’ in white. A white icon of a clock is placed underneath the text /end ID]

I’m re-releasing the first four chapters as I’ve edited them!

Ships: DLAMP/CALMD, Remile.

Warnings: Cheating is mentioned at some point during this fic in the past, some slight horror themes but in a comedic sort of way, kidnapping is mentioned but again this is like a comedy-horror so there’s not a lot of suspense.

Plot: In Hell, a town of roughly 1,000 people, nothing that is supposed to happen ever happens and everything that physically should happen, does. Logan, a scientist, goes there in hopes of studying the world’s most unfortunate, and miraculous, town. But no one who ever enters ever finds the will to leave again.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Chapter Four: Heartbreak Hotel

Roman, Patton and Virgil wandered into Remy and Emile's home and business with questions on their tongue. Logan is sat in the reception using the impossibly fast wi-fi that doesn't seem to extend to his room quite as well, and Emile has just finished getting ready for his actual job (being a therapist to about four people who always seem to be confused about where they are) so he was stood in the foyer chatting to his husband.

“Did you know that there’s another hotel, it’s just opened across the road?” Patton enquires. Remy frowns, symbolising that no, he did not know and this most certainly will not do. He doesn’t go as far as to express this because the door opens again and Deceit wanders in, coffee in hand, and then asks the exact same question.

“No I didn’t,” the half-man, half-cat-man utters with an expression that can only be described as grouchy on his face. “How did it even get there?” He stands and walks to the door, taking the coffee off of Deceit on his way past, the DJ frowns at his now empty hand like a small animal with no sense of object permanence.

There is indeed a hotel there, and the huddle of strange men stare up at this even stranger occurrence with some sense of unease. Mainly because Remy is rather hotheaded and the thought of him having competition is unnerving, but also because it is strange for there to be an entire hotel that wasn’t there before.

Logan, who is somehow acclimatising, sighs and grabs his not-pen from his pocket to scribble something in a notebook and then pocket both of these objects in favour of wandering up to the door. “We should say hello,” The scientist decides for them all despite the fact that at least four of them have other places to be today.

“We should!” Patton agrees emphatically, with an air of confidence that everyone else (except Logan) is lacking at nine in the morning (Especially Deceit, who has just had his whole coffee stolen off of him).

And that, of course, is why they wandered through the large oak doors of 1950′s-style hotel, and once again, into some form of emotional trauma. And for the second time in a row it’s because Logan doesn’t quite know what to do with the unending amount of lust for knowledge that he has, except to use it to get everyone else in danger.

The inside has cream walls with wallpaper that looks too pristine, the carpets are a deep royal red and there are chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The doors slam shut behind them, making them all jump as they stare into the large and empty foyer. “It’s pretty,” Logan remarks quietly, Remy slurps on the coffee with a narrowed glare directed to the scientist. Logan doesn’t notice.

Emile wanders up to the front desk and taps on the little brass bell, it gives a very timid ring and they wait in silence but, after five minutes, nobody comes. Deceit winces at the sudden migraine he’s experiencing and stares around the hotel. “We should get out of here,” he whispers “...this place...it isn’t good,” he shivers as though witnessing something he shouldn’t, the way one witnesses a car crash or anything as equally catastrophic.

But as they all turn around the entrance they had walked through is now just a wall. “Not good at all,” Dee adds to his earlier sentence with an exasperated sigh of ‘really? again? We’re in another perilous situation?’ You know, the sort of sigh a mother gives her child when they’ve dirtied clothes that have just been washed.

“Sorry,” Logan offers, but in all honesty he doesn’t seem very sorry at all, or afraid for that matter. “I suppose we should explore the hotel?”

“Absolutely not,” Deceit and Virgil say, at the same time that Roman, Patton and Emile reply with “Yes!” Remy slurps on his coffee with no opinion other than the fact he is sleep deprived and needs to finish his (stolen) coffee before he formulates any form of response that requires critical thought. He is however feeling a little better about the fact this hotel isn’t really a hotel, rather a potential death trap, because it means he has no competition.

“Let’s just stick together,” Deceit speaks firmly, feeling uneasy because of one thing and one thing alone; he cannot see a thing here. Like all of its past and present and future had been wiped from its walls and its carcass, bleached of any sort of moments that have or would have happened, is hollow of time. His sight doesn’t work, which means someone or something had planned for him to be here.

They all head up the large wooden stairs, which creak under their weight as though protesting their company. On the first floor there is a long corridor, the walls are the same cream and the carpet the same red, and it goes on for miles, much further than it had appeared from the outside. “Trans-dimensional engineering?” Logan offers into the sudden hush that falls, every breath too loud. Emile looks at him with the exact expression a child gives their teacher when they don’t know the answer. “The inside is kept in a dimension other than the one we were in, the outside is just a shell, a mirage if you like, when you stepped through the doors you stepped into this dimension but...also the one you were in at the same time,” This did not ease Emile’s confusion. “Like Roman’s bag,” he added, and Emile nods in understanding.

“Do you think there’s anyone in the rooms?” Patton asks, stepping forward down the corridor, straying foolishly from the others.

“Possibly,” they glance at Logan once he had spoken, and then at Patton who had now started to wander down the hall. He pauses for a moment and stands very, very still, before turning sharply to stare at one of the rooms. “Wait, Patton I wouldn’t...” But it’s too late, his hand is around the golden doorknob and he’s pushing it open with a fierce determination like he can hear or see something that they cannot hear or see. “Patton!”

They race towards him and stare into the room. There’s someone else staring back.

Patton stumbles backwards with his eyes wide, his nails scratching against the wood to get away from the stranger, whose teeth are too sharp and his eyes too dark and that grin...Logan shudders as Roman and Virgil pull Patton back away from the malicious figure. The baker is shaking, his hands trembling to find some familiarity, they land on Roman and hold him close whilst he shakes. It doesn’t take them long to realise he’s crying. “How...How can he be here, how can he...?” He repeats this, stammering against his lover’s chest.

Roman lets him cry, rubbing his back and uttering for words of consolation as Virgil waits patiently, worried, by his side.

“It wasn’t real right, it’s not him?” Patton whispers as he manages to prise away, taking shaky breaths to calm himself down. They all look at Logan who shakes his head.

“It’s...it’s unlikely,” he confirms, clearing his throat. “It seems unlikely that whoever he may be has crossed dimensions to sit in a room you may not have opened to simply smile menacingly at you,” he feels a chill run through him, he doesn’t want to know how many times the sweet baker had seen that grin in reality. Or what it meant.

Patton seems to ease at his words and gives Logan a small smile. “You have a big brain so you’re probably right, yeah?” Logan knows that logically he can promise nothing, but Patton’s bright eyes are looking at him like he’s a lighthouse in a storm, so he nods mutely in response. Patton’s arms wrap around him and for just a moment Logan feels as though there is a weight against his chest but...not in an unpleasant way, no, it’s the sort of weight you get when a cat sits on you. Warm, homely. Like you’ve been chosen.

“We probably each have rooms then, right?” Virgil asks tersely. A cold silence descends and they exchange quiet and scared looks. Logan pauses before he answers, but honestly he just isn’t sure. If his previous hypothesis is correct and the hotel is forcing them to relive traumatic memories then it stands to reason it would not just attack Patton.

“It’s possible, yes.” They all stand very still.

“No offence,” Virgil starts “...But if I’m going to have to relive the worst moment of my very long life, then I’d rather you not be there to see it.” They look between each other, not wanting Virgil to walk off alone but also not wanting to put him in an even more uncomfortable position.

“I understand,” Patton says gently, and he does to some extent. “I think that if the hotel is playing a game, an emotional game, then once it’s had its fun it will probably let us go, right? That’s what people do when they want to get people to feel bad but there’s only so much fun to be had...” Logan’s heart feels like it’s suffocating itself in his chest. “So we find our rooms, and then it might let us go.”

Remy, who is finally looking less of a zombie, glances at his husband and then at the cup of coffee in his hand “I’d rather not have an audience, either,” his words are so uncharacteristically solemn and so is his tone “...except Emile of course, Emile’s always invited to my trauma party.” His husband smiles and squeezes his hand before looking ahead “I don’t know why but I feel like my room is on the third floor so, I’m going up a few more flights, we’ll meet back in the foyer when we’re all done, right?”

They all agree, and soon, they find themselves splitting; Virgil wanders off alone, whilst Remy and Emile head back to the steps to take a few more flights up into the tall, everlasting staircase. Roman looks at Deceit and then at Patton “Virgil’s right, I don’t...I don’t want you to see Pat,” It hurts to see someone you love in pain. Patton smiles and nods. Logan offers him his arm with a raised eyebrow and the baker takes it “I’ll see you later okay?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Logan and Dee have their own type of smiles; Logan’s is soft and happy that the two know their own boundaries enough, that Patton knows how to control his fears, that they love each other so greatly. Deceit’s is sad, it’s scared and it’s lonely as he thinks of the hundred reasons that he could never deserve that, he hasn’t forgiven himself and he will not forgive himself.

But then he and Roman are alone, sharing an awkward glance as they stare at an empty hallway and each other and a thousand memories that cannot be seen left buried in the bones of this hotel. There’s this lingering feeling of everything they could’ve said, should’ve said and then, everything that they did say and everything they wish they hadn’t.

When you find out someone cheated on you, there is no amicable way for how you are feeling, no friendly forgiveness for the heartache they caused, no wonder in the feeling of being betrayed. But Roman is getting too old now to hang onto the past of a teenager who got his heart broken.

He shakes away this thought and clears his throat “after you,” Roman offers an amicable smile, his long hair tucked behind his pierced ear as they start down the too-long hallway. He doesn’t want to admit that he knows what’s going to be on the other side of Dee’s door, and wishes the walk to be longer as dread settles in his stomach.

When they finally get there, after several long turns, Dee stands very still. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and over his arms as if a sudden breeze had hit him. He stares at the golden door with slightly cracked paint and knows he is about to address something he’d been dodging for years. His hand wraps around the reflective door handle. He turns it, and pushes it open.

Roman had known, but he still felt sick when he sees his own face staring back at him as the snake-like man holds the door open with shaking hands. “I’m sorry,” Dee whispers, his voice cracking and fragile “I’m so sorry.” There’s a low pause before Roman can’t quite handle staring at himself; him, but not quite, a little younger and more naive and so angry.

“Sorry doesn’t take it back,” the fake Roman huffs, the memory of Roman, a shadow or silhouette of time left in the skin of Dee’s mind, his dark eyes afire with something so potent and terrible.

“I know, I don’t want it too,” Deceit whispers, flinching slightly as if fearing a slap, before Roman, the real Roman, grabs him by the shirt collar and tugs him back into the hallway.

“Then what do you want?” He whispers.

Static fills their ears in a silence so tense and so fragile at the same time. Dee’s eyes are prickling with tears. He shakes his head and steps away “It’s not fair to say and it’s not fair to ask,” the taller finally speaks but his voice has gone cold with his own unending self-hatred.

“Don’t treat me like a child, for fuck’s sake Dee,” Roman is frustrated and tired and...scared. His heart hurts under the weight of love that he cannot shake because he always had loved Dee and no matter how much pain stands where that man once stood...there would always be love. Roman can’t rewrite his own emotions, he falls in love with the first pretty man that smiles at him and falls hard, like a rock sinking into waves that are too rough to find solid ground. “Just tell me, for once, the truth.”

“I love you.”

A beat, a pause, a soft exhale that speaks so many different languages. “I know,” what a response to receive. They’re both setting themselves up for pain, they know this, but they’re adults that get to decide when they make bad decisions. “I love you too.”

“You shouldn’t.” And Roman laughs, he laughs with disbelief and an awkwardness of a man who doesn’t know what to say, he laugh and laughs until he is crying. Then his laughs turn sour because he got the truth and he hates it, he hated walking into that room, a room that does not lie about heartbreak and knowing that Dee’s biggest heartbreak is the pain that he caused Roman. That he lives and thinks about that every single day. For years. Why doesn’t that feel like an achievement when he was the one that was hurt?

“Why the fuck didn’t you just not do it?” His choked off words come out angry and hard and bitter and they taste like the sound of hailstone smashing windows open. “Would it have been so hard? To just not do it? To not cheat on me? Why do I deserve your heartache when you already gave me all of mine?” He curses loudly and kicks at a wall, frustrated, in tears. His words taste like saline and a cold beach in winter. “Fuck you,” Roman’s anger is nothing beautiful. He feels dizzy. He feels...cold and hot at the same time. “Fuck you, Dee.”

And Deceit can only leans shakily against the wall as he shakes his head with no idea what he’s supposed to say or do or if there even is something that he can say or do. Can you really fix something you shattered long ago? Find the fragments lost by time and glue them back together? “I’m sorry, I know...” He whispers , swallowing and choking on his own words as he tries to keep himself from breaking “What I did was bad, I don’t expect you back, I don’t expect...anything from you, Roman,”

There is an irony of feeling small against someone you are a head taller than, as Dee leans against the wall and Roman stands in front of him in a vicious cocktail of emotions. The anger flickers, it falters, and Roman sighs in defeat, resting against his ex-boyfriend because he’s suddenly too shaky to stand alone.

“I know you don’t,” his head still rests against Deceit’s collarbone the way it used to “I know you don’t, and I hate that you don’t,” he leans back “because I loved you and you loved me and it would be so, so much easier if that wasn’t the case, if you were a horrible person who treated me like shit but you weren’t, otherwise you were so wonderful it felt like a dream.” He wipes his eyes. “You did one thing that really hurt me, years ago and now I’m still so angry with you because you didn’t show me you loved me, you taught me that love is just a heartache waiting to happen.”

Deceit is stunned into a quiet silence as the walls seems to close in around him “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to be you,” he whispered “...but you’re the only person I’ve ever loved so who else would it be? What were you expecting?” And Roman doesn’t know, he has no semblance of an idea of what he was expecting, then and now.

“You took so much more than I was trying to give you,” Roman whispers, voice soft in his own sadness. “So much more,” he wiped his eyes “I don’t understand why I’m angry with myself when I did nothing wrong.”

“You’re not angry,” Deceit manages out as best as he can because Roman’s head is resting on his chest like a wonderful, suffocating weight and he doesn’t remember how to breathe with someone he’d loved so much so close to him. How do you breathe when there are flowers made of heartache growing between the bones of your ribs? How do you look them in the eyes and lie?

How did he look Roman in the eyes and lie. They used to be something greater than this hurricane, this destruction this…terrible idea. What a terrible idea love turned out to be, who willingly subjects themselves to the possibility of the tears and the cold feeling in his own veins?

“I tried,” Deceit’s voice is catching every notch in his throat. “I tried so hard to move on, to find someone else but how could I? How do I fall in love again knowing I can ruin it just like that?” Roman leans back to look up at the man he’d known, vulnerable and insecure; he supposes that never changed and Dee is just as good of a liar as his name would suggest. “I see everything Roman, everything that should happen, everything that has ever happened I see that every day, I know how a relationship is going to end before it even begins, how…how do I just fall in love when I know that?”

“You always knew?” Roman asked, his eyes looking up at his past lover with a new kind of sadness “Every time I told you I loved you and you knew how it would end?”

“I can’t turn it off,” He gestures to his eyes. “I just hoped it was a could happen instead of a will happen, not everything is so fixed, sometimes I see multiple futures or none at all,” his back is pressed against the wall like he’s afraid of the way Roman’s hand sits on his forearm too familiarly. “This place is switching it off, I can’t see anything but what’s in front of me.” ‘And never before have I wished to see something other than what is here and now, nothing else.’

“Good,” Roman muttered. “It’s not healthy for you.” Dee snorts, lifting a hand to wipe his own teary eyes “I’m serious,” but he’s smiling too, the way they used; when life was life and neither a dream nor a horrendous nightmare. “When you see me now what do you see? With that eye of yours?”

“Well, different things, different futures.”

“Are any of them happy?”

Gods, isn’t that the million dollar question? But then Dee knows this is it, this is the converging point where all those futures choose their course and he has no way to see how he gets to them; what a fucked-up irony that the one time he wants his sight is the one time he cannot have it? He blinks, his lips part and they quirk just a little as he takes in those god-awful puppy eyes he’d fallen headfirst into. “Yes.”

Roman’s smile could light up a million rooms, Deceit thinks, and a million stars could bow to its brilliance. He smiles for the first time like maybe he isn’t so angry, as though the past they’d had didn’t matter so much anymore. It does, he hasn’t forgiven Deceit even if maybe he will one day, but he does at least know that change is a passage of time and not much else.

The leaves grow in spring and fall in autumn, people make mistakes and change. And Roman knows that it hurts more to keep denying half of his heart than it ever did to be cheated on; for the most part it wasn’t even the act that had upset him, it was what it meant to him, that he wasn’t trustworthy enough to be effectively communicated with. It was also not as though he never did anything wrong, at the time they’d both been young and dumb and fiercely determined to fuck each other over and maybe, maybe Roman had pushed once too many.

Maybe they’re both different people now.

Not teenagers, or anywhere close, adults and trying their best. Maybe it’s time to move on, try life again. Roman wants to try him again, not because he misses him but because missing someone is different from craving who they are right down to their soul.

Roman shakes his head and steps back, but not today, he needs time to think properly . “Then one day I hope I get to see it, now let’s find my room.”

Remy is seven different types of jumpy right now, the first is caffeine-induced, the second is genuine fear and the third is the creak of floorboards as he tries to walk quietly through this too-old and too-big hotel. “Whatever it is,” Emile mutters to him, squeezing his hand “It’s okay,” And when his husband says those words, jumpy becomes just a word, because nothing can calm him quite like his partner’s caring eyes and smile.

He stops halfway down a corridor that seems to go on for miles, standing very still as he feels a tug at his body, like a magnet to metal. Remy turns with a deep breath and stares at the door, before he opens it with one quick movement. He stands very still as he looks onto the other side, blinking slowly as his eyes turn glassy. “Of course,” He mutters, a humourless laughs bubbling past the threshold. “What else would it have been?”

Emile stares over his shoulder with wide eyes and a tight throat before he can’t handle what he’s witnessing any longer and turns away. Remy walks back into the hallway, closing the door and staring at his feet. He breathes shallowly before nodding, coming to terms with something that had happened so long ago but still hurts, loss always hurts, it has no expiry date even ten years later. But he at least knows how to handle this sadness; it’s one he’s tackled before. He wraps his arms around his husband and buries his face in his neck, inhaling and exhaling with calculated breaths. “I’m sorry Rem.”

“It’s...okay,” Remy replies, in a way that says he is and he isn’t, okay. Okay is just a word people use when they don’t know what else to say, really, okay is a filled silence because there are no other words to add, a static TV screen that people have forgotten to turn off. “It was a long time ago,” He pulls back and rubs his eyes, a bittersweet smile stitched to his lips. “I’ve gotten used to it now,”

Not “I’m over it,” or “I’m fine,” those would both be lies. Losing a family member you loved is a hard ordeal no matter the age you were. When Remy was 7 he’d lost his brother to a static idea of happiness found on the backs of prescription bottles, and been the one to find the cold when nobody else was paying attention to an absent person with much more absent eyes. He’s gotten used to the sadness, the memories, the flashbacks and the unending feeling of dread of finding your brother unmoving on the floor. But not even time can heal such an early trauma.

Perhaps this is why he cannot sleep at night.

“We should find yours,” Remy finally breaks the quiet as he gets out of his own head. “Come on,” Emile doesn’t look scared, he doesn’t even flinch because he knows that nothing is going to be quite so scary with Remy, and also his heartbreaks have never really been that bad.

Well, most of them anyway.

The two wander down the hallway and Emile feels like he knows where he’s going as though he’s walking to work instead of a slightly spooky hotel.

When he gets there he knows what’s waiting on the other side, he’s not had his heart broken many times before; at least not bad enough that it had left an impression. But heartbreak never really hurt Emile enough because he’s had Remy by his side.

You’re a whole lot braver, a whole lot stronger, when you are not alone.

He pushes his shoulders back and raises his chin defiantly as he wraps his hand around the doorknob and then opens the door with a purpose. He was right of course about what it was, who it was. Two elderly people, a woman and a man with firm expressions and opinions that he didn’t care for; Emile is many things, but afraid of homophobia is not one of them. He listens to their violent words and then snorts a little “I’ve dealt with people like this my entire life mister hotel,” he snorts, rolling his eyes “It’s been a long time since I’ve cried over that sort of heartbreak,”

The door closes as he steps back out into the hallway, barely an image of discomfort on his face, whilst Remy smiles proudly at the bravery he’d fallen in love with so long ago.

The two of them had ran off together that night. In the middle of the night they’d taken to the road with nothing but their clothes, their bank’s worth of money and a beaten up car. Remy had been out of Hell for a few months, people never really make the year out of this place. It's how he'd met Emile, and he'd fallen so in love that he wasn't really sure how to breathe at the time. When he met Emile he understood love, and not soon after he understood hate too.

So they’d found themselves here, for Remy, a second time, somewhere where misfit is just an ordinary citizen, and sure you might get hit by an inter dimensional hotel every now and then, but no one will bat their eyelids if you’re gay. Sometimes this town choses you before you chose it.

Remy squeezes Emile’s hand and his lover smiles back, not at all scared, not at all bothered; he hadn’t been that night either. Emile rarely swears but the entire neighbourhood heard the “Fuck you!” he shouted angrily at his parents, a spitfire in pastel hair dye and a soft woollen sweater. As Emile had always known, you really are braver when you know you’re not alone; and for most of his life he hasn’t been.

Logan and Patton had been walking for quite a while now, staring up at the walls as they look between each other “I have no idea where I’m supposed to be,” Logan admits softly. “None of these are particularly calling out to me,” he sighs, scratching the back of his head in confusion. Perhaps he is an outlier, a mistake. Perhaps he isn’t supposed to be here.

“I’m sure you’ll find it.” They keep walking, but every hallway seems to just lead to the stairs and Logan doesn’t really feel like he should be going up or down the way Remy had. “Or maybe we’re not supposed to be here?” Patton voices finally as he stares down the stairs. After a moment he sighs and starts walking back down, it leads to the reception “I guess we just sit in the waiting room,”

“But I didn’t find my room?” Logan mutters with a confused expression “I thought that was the point?”

“Well, maybe you’ve just not had your heartbroken.” The scientist considers this carefully before a look of realisation crosses his expression. He hadn’t. He hadn’t even had the time to get his heartbroken. He’d never fallen in love, never loved anyone enough and lived in textbooks and chemicals the way a bird makes their nest.

Logan had never had his heart broken. What a horrid thing to realise, that you’ve never loved enough to have someone break your heart.

Virgil is anxious. This is nothing new of course, anxious is his part-time job, his favourite hobby and the first and last thing he does every day. But this is the sort of anxious that had his stomach twisting. He doesn’t know why there’s a dread in the pit of his stomach, as in he doesn’t know what specifically about this is making him anxious. He’s a demon and demons, categorically speaking, do not get heartbroken.

He doesn’t know what’s going to be on the other side of his door as he walks with a weighted step and aching bones and the knowledge that he is about to confront something that he himself does not know, how large or how terrifying or how non-competitively sad it is going to be. Sad is just a word, he tells himself, it doesn’t have to mean something.

Demon he may be, invulnerable he is not; he’s lived in this skin suit for many years now, among Humans, among…Patton and Roman and people who have taught him no emotion is just a word. He had known this before and forgotten, so Patton taught him all of his sad and all of his happy, and Roman all of his love and anguish. He is enough Human now, to be more than just anger and fear again, as he hadn’t been for decades before.

Human is not a category in their world; it is a feeling, an innate sense of right and wrong and love and hate. Human is a knowledge and a heartbreak.

The dark-eyed Demon stares at the end of a hallway at a door that is cracked and blackened as though it had been torched to the ground but the wood had refused to succumb to the flames. Virgil knows this is his door by the invisible rope dragging him towards it and the broken pounding of his heart in his chest. He steps towards it. There is silence and silence and silence.

Virgil opens the door with a shaky hand, pushing it open a little and staring into the beyond. Into the feeling of a cold hand on his back and nails dragging on his skin and the look of someone he tried most days not to remember. He swallows a little “I’m sorry,” He whispers “I’m sorry I didn’t come back.” Unable to hold back the guilt he’d been carrying for a fair few Human decades now.

A boy stares up at him, bright blue eyes wide and a small smile on his face. “Verge!” He giggles, a small hand reaching up to rest on his hand, ignorant to Virgil’s broken expression. The demon swallows and squats to hold his hand out, the little boy wraps his arms around him.

“How did you recognise me kiddo?” Virgil sniffles a little, “I don’t look the same.” The child laughs and places his hand on Virgil’s chest over where his heart is. Of course, he’d always know. “One day I’ll find you,” he wipes his eyes “But you’re not you, you’re an image, not real.” He lets go and steps back, shaking his head “You wouldn’t even be a child anymore,” The boy’s smile falls and his eyes tint a little black. “No, you’re not him,” He steps back through the door at the boy whose teeth are a little too sharp and if you look too closely you can see the way the air crackles around him.

“One day I’ll find you kiddo, but today isn’t that day.” And with that he slides through the door and lets it fall shut behind him. The hallway has changed and he can see the stairs through his tears. He staggers towards them, running into Emile and Remy as he does, practically tripping down the stairs to get to the warm feeling of love. Anything but that, anything but him.

Patton’s arms find their way around him as he takes deep breaths and remembers where his heart is, where his head is.

Now just to wait for Roman and Deceit.

“I have a long list of heartbreaks so I’m curious to know which is the worst,” Roman hums to himself, fingertips trailing across the papered walls as his legs move of their own accord, seemingly knowing where they’re going. He certainly doesn’t know in his mind, so at least the rest of him is controlling some sort of brain cell.

“You’re horrendously chipper,” Deceit grumbles a little, but the smile on Roman’s face can’t keep him grumpy. Because he knows now, and Dee knows too, that things are changing and are not going to stay the same. Roman knows he was angry for a reason, but whether that reason is slowly crumbling is another answer.

The thing is, Roman is aware he doesn’t have to forgive Deceit, the issue is that he knows the Dee doesn’t want to be forgiven. It’s been years and he’s still rolling in his mistake and to Roman that just doesn’t seem healthy, for either of them to be gripping on a hatred that isn’t real. He doesn’t hate Dee for cheating on him years ago, and the more time he spends in his presence the more he realises he probably didn’t hate him at all. Angry, sad, and many other things, but he loves him too much to hate him. There’s no hate in love, the two are not compatible and Roman has always found that a strange thing people say; that you love someone but hate them too.

Dee fucked up. He holds himself accountable for that, and Roman holds him accountable.

But there’s a time to move on and live. And now is that time. Maybe it’s Logan and his pretty hair and pretty cheeks and lovely eyes and the fact they both want to take whatever he’ll give, maybe it’s because he knows that Patton is worried about them both. Maybe it’s simply because his anger comes from the fact every time he looks at Deceit he feels that thundering of his heart that most people get from new crushes.

Yes, he decides, it’s time to move on. Not right now at this instance, but in the near future. There’s a life to be lived without all these negative emotions.

But that thought process dissolves as he finds himself standing very still, eyes trained on the wooden hotel door. He lets out a deep sigh, cheeks puffing out as he does so. They both stand very still and Dee looks down at his feet as though he dreads knowing what’s on the other side. But as the door opens and he can’t bear to not know, he looks up and is pleasantly surprised.

He’s not the person on the other side.

He does know who it is however.

Roman blinks slowly before muttering a quiet “Oh, I see,” he hums a little, before nodding. “That does make sense,” but he isn’t crying, he isn’t angry, he just stares unblinking, before clearing his throat and moving out into the hallway. The door closes behind him and the two stand in silence as Roman stares blankly at the carpet. There’s not an ounce of energy there at all, for a moment he barely looks like himself, devoid of everything that makes Roman….Roman.

“Remus?” Roman clears his throat lightly as Deceit asks the question with uncertainty. “Roman what happened to him isn’t your fault,” he knows this logically, of course he does, but Roman can never quite live without blaming himself for something. Another unhealthy habit he can’t seem to shake. “I’m sorry.”

“No it’s…it’s fine,” It’s not, Dee knows this now. He just never quite realised how Roman’s twin brother’s…possession had affected him.

Possession in the literal sense. Remus, Roman’s twin brother, had been possessed by a Demon at a young age. And now, as an adult it’s as though there’s little left of the brother there had been anymore. No matter how hard the man tried to learn, to understand, even Virgil had tried to help, nothing seemed to be able to shift the Demon from it’s vessel. He’s not even a terrible demon, a little odd and overtly sexual but otherwise not planning the apocalypse, he just really likes the flesh suit he’d adopted and grown in like a normal person would a house.

The two stare at each other a moment, before Roman sighs “I need a hug,” he mutters and Dee hesitantly opens his arms. The two still fit together like a warm glove in winter, Roman can feel Dee’s heart thudding lightly between his ribs and finds the sound as comforting as he once did. It’s nice, it’s…pleasant. When Roman finally eases away he looks down at his feet with an uncharacteristically shy expression “I did miss you, you know.” Then he shakes his head and starts to walk away. “Come on, let’s get back to the others.”

Everyone is in various states of upset, Emile is perhaps the only one who looks unbothered and Roman feels like someone that bubbly is either lying, stronger than they look, or simply has never had too bad a heartbreak. Remy is quiet, his eyes open like he’s forcing them to look at something, not wanting to close them; Roman decides he doesn’t want to know what he’s seen. Logan looks upset, he’s pacing and muttering under his breath, eyebrows furrowed. Patton still looks a little pale, but he’s busy tending to Virgil who is crying. Immediately Roman stands a little straighter and makes his way over to his lover, holding him close and pressing kisses to the top of his dark hair.

There’s a soft clunk noise, and when they look up the doors have returned.

The group all scramble to get outside, standing on the gravel pavement with one last glare at the hotel, before they cross the road towards Remy and Emile’s hotel. “I don’t know how to explain to my clients I got trapped in another dimension,” the psychiatrist snorts, squeezing Remy’s hand.

“Me neither,” Patton sighs, glancing at his watch, “...it’s nearly sun down Dee you need to get to the…Dee?” They all pause and look around, but Dee is on the other side of the road still stood in front of the hotel, his eyes glowing and unblinking like he's frantically searching for something. Roman pauses and then sighs.

“You guys go ahead,” he speaks gently, offering his partners a small smile. “You’ve had a long day, I’ll make sure he’s okay, make sure Virgil is okay,” they glance hesitantly between them before Virgil makes a noise of agreement despite his current state, he understands they’ve probably talked about a lot that needs a resolution.

“See you later Roman,” Emile offers with his kind smile. “Good luck,” and then they all trail away. Roman crosses back over the road carefully to stand in front of Dee. He rests a hand on the man’s arm and feels him jump, his eyes focusing once more as the glow subsides. He sighs with relief once he realises it’s just Roman, with his dark eyes much softer than he is used to seeing them.

“Sorry,” the serpent-man’s eyes look sad, he, in general, looks so very sad. Like he knows something he isn’t supposed to know.

“It’s okay,” Roman pauses, eyes searching as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear. “What are you looking for?” Deceit’s cheeks flush and the smaller man smiles like he knows the answer, eyes avoiding each other before they finally meet again. “Fuck it,” He whispers under his breath.

“What?”

Deceit doesn’t get much further as Roman’s lips press to his own, sweetly and carefully and shyly. He can’t feel his own heart because it’s beating too fast, and his body feels like fireworks are shooting in his veins. They both pause as the world slows around them, the glow of streetlights illuminating their bodies in the carefully setting sun. Then they both break, they part and Roman sighs. “I forgot how much I missed that,” he muttered “We’ll talk, eventually, go do your radio show, I’ve got a Demon to look after.”

Deceit grins and nods, wondering how in all the futures he’d seen he hadn’t see that coming.

#ts sides #ts fic

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crossdressingdeath · 4 years

Note

Tired of people arguing that JC only being able to communicate his emotions through anger is a direct result of abuse which is made to mean that it's an absolute that he has no power on and that everyone should work around. As someone who used to be a rage monster, I can say with certitude that there is no inevitable consequences here as much as there is no direct being abused to being an abuser or treat people badly pipeline. While he was clearly raised in an abusive family and our behavior1/7

is shaped by things that happened to us, our own choices, inclinations and ethics play a big, if not a bigger role, in determining our reactions to those events because being a victim of abuse or any other heinous act doesn't get to determine who you are as a person (only in a legal sense, maybe), but our subsequent actions in reaction to that do. Did JC learn acting out in anger by imitating YZY? Probably. But can we really argue that he was totally blind, being a victim of this himself,2/7

about how her actions hurt those around her and wrecked her family? Should we feel bad for judging a person shaped by abuse or are we judging someone who was hurt in a cruel way and then chose to do the exact same thing to others, knowing how much it hurts? Even in the story itself between JYL, WWX and JC, only JC acts out in this way because it's actually a sign of the special position he had in the family. Have JYL or WWX ever been free to get angry at how anyone treat them or storm off or3/7

scream "people are not paying enough attention to me/love me enough" when they felt like it, and they certainly must often felt like it between JYL just being ignored an dismissed most of the time (how does she feel about her lack of skills and beauty being perpetually mocked even by her own fiancé?) and WWX, the orphan who was caught in everyone's crossfire, without an official position, and YZY hating him? But JC had people to follow him and console him when he storms off, people to try4/7

and understand what he really means by his actions and rude words (a courtesy JC never extends for a single second to WWX post-Sunshot frex) with JYL and WWX being stuck doing all the emotional labor in their relationship with him. He was only free to learn to use anger as his main communication tool because he was in the privileged position to be able to express himself freely in the first place while JYL and WWX had to learn to smile and shut up and endure. He remains blissfully ignorant5/7

of the fact while not willfully blind to it, expecting people around him to always put his emotions in the first place over theirs as his due. And even outside of relative roles in the abusive family--because if JYL switched places with JC, she might have turned into a slightly different person, but she would never in million years act like JC does--it's also a moral decision that abuse victims and anyone else really who have had bad things happen to them have to make, and a decision that is6/7

going to shape the very core of their personalities, which is who is going to feel the effects of this hurt, everyone around me or only myself? Do others deserve to be hurt because I'm hurting? Have I a right to hurt only people who are the direct cause or vaguely related people who are easier to hurt? With characters like JGY or XY and so many others, and WWX and JC here through a familial lens, it's even a central theme in the story.7/7

Was JC abused? Yes. Did that have an impact on his personality? Also yes. Should we feel bad for what happened to him? Absolutely. But does that justify how he treats the people around him? Not a chance!

You’re right, he does know how much cruel words hurt people. He even knows how it hurts his siblings; he’s right there watching when YZY lays into them half the time! He should be well aware that harsh words spoken angrily don’t make anyone feel loved. And yet he turns around and lashes out at WWX and JL and everyone else who gets near just like how YZY lashed out at him.

And you make an excellent point; JC did have the “privilege” of being able to respond to his treatment with anger, to storm around and throw tantrums over not being the centre of attention, to demand everyone comfort him, pay attention to him, put him first, in a way his siblings never could. Can you even imagine how YZY would react if WWX demanded praise for his actions? If JYL wanted to be the centre of attention? They had to just sit there and take it without a word. JC might get yelled at and put down (and I’m not suggesting that was okay!), but JYL got as bad as he did for failing miserably at a task just for peeling some lotus seeds for her brother. WWX got whipped for offences that got JC a slap on the wrist. I’m not saying JC didn’t suffer, but I do think he refuses to consider how lucky he was to be the sect heir, to be free of the worst of YZY’s temper. The worst he had to deal with was a lecture and being put down; YZY frequently whipped his brother and reminded him of how lucky he was that his parents’ best friend wasn’t okay with leaving him to starve. JYL’s position as a bargaining chip for YZY to give to her friend to bind them together was made explicitly clear to her her entire childhood. JC wasn’t treated well, but he never had to worry that he would be whipped or sold off in marriage. In their family, he was lucky. But he only sees that he suffered, and he turns that on everyone around him, including the siblings that had it even worse than he did.

It is interesting that there are so many examples of characters using their suffering as an excuse to make anyone with even the vaguest relation to the cause of it suffer in return. XY, JGY... they’re always the bad guys. They’re not in the right. We’re not supposed to think they’re in the right. And then on the other side we’ve got WWX, our hero, whose philosophy boils down to “live and let live” even against the same people who hurt him. JC in this regard acts far more like the villains than the heroes. Funny how that turns out.

#mdzs #cql #grapehate #hymns-to-the-night #asks

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ootori-sibs · 3 years

Text

Kyoya's second shot

Chapter seven: Big brother to the rescue!

It's unlikely that two days are just perfect as each other, you cannot simply have the best day of your life, then have the same day tomorrow. And unfortunately common occurrence is for one day to be wonderful, simply the best, then the next day to be empty and hollow- even if nothing bad happens; the lack of the joy makes a normal day seem even worse. That was how Sunday went for Kyoya; he couldn't even talk to Tamaki over text, as he was spending the day with Haruhi.

He had woken up in Tamaki's bed, alone. Tamaki had already left to go and spend time with Haruhi, having left a note and some of Kyoya's favourite foods for breakfast. Kyoya had barely picked at it, not feeling all too hungry, but he didn't want to upset Tamaki, so he finished the food before leaving. The ride home was silent, Kyoya simply read through Arai's report of the day spent with Haruhi. Apparently they'd spent the day reading and sitting in the local park, nothing really romantic in the slightest- Kyoya had to wonder if Arai had even tried.

The moment he'd gotten home, he stumbled upstairs, completely ignoring his brother who was visiting for the day, he made a b-line for his bedroom, crawling under the covers and just hiding. He had lain like this for the entire summer holiday, so what was one day more? He wasn't being selfish, he was just tired, a whole day outside had taken a lot out of him. He barely glanced up to read the shadow council group chat, oh… they were calling him slurs again. Maybe he should just sleep.

But Eclair reminded him that he'd scheduled a meeting with the council today, so he took about an hour to compose himself enough to at least sit up, the many blankets still wrapped around his head and body- if they wanted to judge him he couldn't care less, he felt as if he could cry without the soft pressure from his blankets. His maids had brought him lunch, along with a note from his brother, asking if he wanted to talk or hang out… Kyoya sighed at that, Yuuichi was always trying to bond with him, it was strange; why would he want to spend time with Kyoya when he could spend that time working? If Kyoya had a job he'd do absolutely nothing else, how dare his brother spend so much time doing nothing at all yet still be the favourite.

Kyoya had turned his laptop on, setting up the meeting before inviting all his council, they did have work to do after all. "Good afternoon everyone."

Eclair was simply sat on a chaise lounge, drinking wine and smoking, clearly just showing off that she could do that kind of thing. Nekozawa was sat in a dark room, lit only by candles, he was missing both his wig and cloak, and sat there with his regal features- if he wasn't such a creepy guy, maybe Kyoya would be attracted to him. Akira was hunched over his desk, looking incredibly stressed to be in this call, good. Seika was laying on her bed, legs in the air like she was in an American movie about teens, it was uncanny. Chika was sitting in a quiet corner of a garden, there were a couple of baby ducks in the background, just chirping about. Arai, ever the lovely commoner, was simply in his kitchen, making his lunch as they spoke.

Kyoya sighed, adjusting his glasses, "first thing I have to address; Arai, how did yesterday go?"

The commoner boy barely glanced at him, busy making food, "well it was alright I suppose, I sent a message about it didn't I?"

"You did, but I'd like you to make a formal report for the rest of the council."

"Alright then," Arai nods, chopping some tomatoes, "we went to the park and read books together, I bought her a milkshake with ice-cream. She complained about school, I let her-" he clearly pause, putting the knife down for a moment, "she complained about you at one point actually."

Kyoya froze, Haruhi was complaining about him? What did he do? Did she know? If she was complaining to Arai, imagine what she could be saying to Tamaki at that very moment… Kyoya's hands were already shaking as he wrapped his blankets around himself even more, "what did she say?"

"Oh she just said some stuff about how you've been really pushy and snappy lately, also like- totally going through someone but kind of being a dick about it." Like all commoners, Arai spoke bluntly, but there was something in his tone, in the way he paused when he saw Kyoya's expression, his gaze softening… "hey, those aren't her exact words, just a bit of paraphrasing. Don't worry about it, she doesn't suspect a thing, also I mean; she's not wrong, you're clearly going through someone, and you're clearly lashing out- forgive me for getting too personal." He had smiled, before turning to continue making his lunch.

Kyoya didn't know how to respond to that, how dare that commoner see straight through him- but he wasn't cruel about it… like anyone else in existence would be, Kyoya felt himself bristle nonetheless, his pride forbidding him from accepting any care. "Oh look, the basket case is about to start crying and we've barely started the meeting." Ayanokoji had made a cruel comment, one that people laughed at, Arai was ignoring the meeting now, clearly he was only going to speak when asked to. Kyoya's fists clenched, he felt like he was about to put a hole through his laptop… he'd done that before, he remembered his father's reaction, he'd been grounded for two weeks after that. He hated to imagine what would happen the second time. So he took a deep breath, glaring down the camera.

"I'm sorry, Ayanokoji, why don't you tell us any new ideas you've had?" His tone was clear; she'd already been reprimanded for the graffiti, so any inappropriate idea would be criticised heavily- especially by a shadow king in a foul mood. Her eyes had gone wide, and she lay flat, glancing about a little nervously.

"Oh, well…" it was clear she hadn't thought of a single thing, "well I was thinking… oh! Maybe I could drug her coffee? Or ruin her work for classes? Or spread a nasty rumour..?" Kyoya thought about these options, letting the other council members speak first however, as he already knew his opinion.

Chika was the first to speak, "you're gonna poison the crossdresser??" His words got the attention of the other people in the call who weren't paying attention, such as Arai and Eclair; one of whom seemed a lot less onboard than the other.

Kyoya shook his head, "we will not be drugging her, as easy as it would be for me to get my hands on a harmless dose of something, we are better than that- we are smarter than that. Your other two ideas however, are fine. However; only ruin her schoolwork once, as we don't want to get her expelled."

"I thought we were trying to ruin her life?" Akira spoke up, why was he even still allowed to speak? Kyoya respected the commoner more than he could ever respect this newsboy.

So he rolls his eyes, adjusting how he's sat, "don't be foolish, we're just trying to drive her away from Tamaki, I harbour no real ill will towards the commoner- she is simply in the way. Now," he looks down at where Akira was on the screen, before his eyes filter back up to the webcam, staring straight into the lense, "I suggest you bite your tongue, Komatsuzawa, you're on thin ice here as it is." It seemed to work, the boy glanced away from the screen, biting his thumb and going silent.

Seika laughed, "god, what a baby. Sucking his thumb cause he got told off, how absolutely pathetic." Her words clearly annoyed Akira, but he was notably silent and the call was quiet for a second until Tonnerre spoke up.

"Ootori isn't much better," she addressed Seika, ignoring the other folks in the call as she lifted a glass of red to her lips, "he's all bundled in blankets like a baby, you can see his lunch behind him; there's even milk." She doesn't laugh, she doesn't even smile, but there's an airy huff that tells Kyoya she finds herself quite amusing, Seika's chuckling doesn't make it feel any better.

But she's not the only one laughing, Chika, the little brat, seems to find this oh so funny. "He's more of a baby then some of the people in my class! No wonder my brother hangs out with him!" Such childish laughter, and yet Kyoya feels more obliged to defend Honey with that insult then to defend himself… though he knew how it felt to be a younger brother, he found himself unable to sympathise with Chika at all in this regard.

He just stayed silent, not wanting to speak and incriminate himself for anything, he knew he could move his blankets but he felt if he did so he might just cry. So he stayed completely still, staring at the screen. Luckily the sound of cruel laughter was silenced by Nekozawa speaking up, "Ootori-san may have some clear issues, but it's not as if he embarrassed himself to the degree you did Ayanokoji-chan," he was smiling at her, expression and words completely harmless, though of course dear Seika took great offence, gasping at the very idea of her being worse than Kyoya.

The meeting delved into insults and jokes, slurs being thrown around as if it were middleschool again… Kyoya just sat there, hands shaking, as he watched Arai's screen. Arai wasn't partaking in the jokes of the rest of the council, he had finished making his lunch and had just sat down to eat it, watching the show with concern. Kyoya watched him take out his phone, typing something slowly, then… oh, Kyoya's own phone had pinged. He picked it up from his bedside table, reading the text.

Peasant: hey, are you doing ok?

you can talk to me if you want

I'm always willing to listen if you need it

even if we aren't friends

Kyoya had saved them all on his phone with the same nicknames they had in the group chat, with Nekozawa as an exception obviously. So he instantly realised that the text he'd just saw Arai type was this one he was reading now… or four texts he supposed, one after the other. He was caught off guard by them, the idea of someone he's barely spoken to, caring about him, seeking him out to make sure he's alright, offering to be a willing ear, using a gentle tone with him… it was all entirely new to Kyoya- and he didn't trust it one bit.

Kyoya Ootori: Don't take me for a fool, there is no viable reason for me to trust you.

He watched Arai receive the text, and noticed how he sighed lightly- Kyoya was right! Arai had been planning to dig into Kyoya's secrets! And pry at his weaknesses! Kyoya had won, he had been so smart to not open up to the common boy! He had to congratulate himself on that at least, he had one talent, if nothing else. He sighed slightly at that, realising his conclusion meant that no one on the council was even genuinely nice. So he sat there, eyes just focusing on whoever was speaking at the time, whoever was calling him a slur at any given moment… oh, his door had opened.

He glanced over to the entrance to his room, noticing Yuuichi standing there, looking entirely concerned. His brother glanced at his laptop, his frown deepening, "who just called you that?" Uh oh.

Everyone in the meeting had heard it, and most knew Yuuichi by his voice, and knew to be afraid- even the few that didn't, had enough sense to stay silent. Yuuichi walked over, taking the laptop from Kyoya's bed, looking at the screen. Kyoya silently watched in horror as his brother slowly looked at the members of his council, recognising them one by one- he looked extremely surprised to see… Eclair, Kyoya had to assume. Then Yuuichi's eyes landed on Arai, and he spoke his first words since entering the room, "what the… is that a commoner?" Kyoya nodded when Yuuichi glanced at him, staying completely silent as he processed this fact.

"What kind of strange gathering is happening here?" Yuuichi didn't seem to understand what was going on in the slightest, Kyoya was glad of that. But as Yuuichi sat down on the bed next to Kyoya, the laptop on his lap, the council began to speak.

Eclair spoke first, with a polite but clearly forced chuckle, "bonjour monsieur Ootori, I don't believe we've spoken properly yet?"

"Please," Yuuichi's smile was also faked, "call me Yuuichi."

She nodded, "Yuuichi, I don't believe you need to worry about this little meeting, your baby brother is awfully good at arranging things isn't he?" God, she was hiding her insults in complements now, as if Kyoya couldn't hate this woman anymore then she already did.

Yuuichi's face lit up at that, pulling Kyoya close to him, "oh you're right! He is so good at planning and organising, you should've seen the rigorous routines he used to map out when he was younger, he had a schedule for playtime!" He laughed, not realising how humiliating this would be for Kyoya, "he'll always be my sweet little baby brother, even if he's grown up a lot since then."

Chika let out a snort at that, causing Yuuichi to frown again, "why is there a toddler in this call?" It was incredibly rewarding to watch Chika splutter and explain that he's a middle schooler, as if Yuuichi wasn't fully aware exactly who he was. But the boy's laughter had reminded Yuuichi of what he'd heard, "so, which one of you did I hear call my brother a slur?" There was complete silence on the other end of the line.

Kyoya looked up at Yuuichi, frowning, he gently pinched his brother's arm, not wanting to draw attention to himself but also really wanting Yuuichi to stop it. Yuuichi glanced at him the moment he felt the pinch, smiling softly, he let Kyoya take the laptop from him, though frowned at that. "Alright everyone," Kyoya made sure to keep his voice level, smiling politely to the council, "I apologize for the interruption and I'm afraid we'll have to cut our meeting a little short, please ruminate on what we've discussed today and I hope to speak with you again soon, that will be all," and without letting anyone else get a word in edgeways, he ended the call, slamming his laptop shut and headbutting his brother in the chest fairly hard, just resting their for a moment.

"Kyoya…" Yuuichi had uttered softly, placing a gentle hand on Kyoya's head, playing with his hair, "why did you do that? You know I'd have stood up for you."

"Humiliate me is what you did." Kyoya's words were spat out, quite aggressively, but Kyoya only got so aggressive when he was close to tears, and Yuuichi knew this, and Kyoya knew that he knew, "you always fucking show me up, I don't need you to come to my rescue…"

These words must hurt his brother deeply, Kyoya knew that, but frankly, he didn't care, not right now at least. He had his own feelings, ones that were hurt a hell of a lot more than his silly little words could ever harm his brother, tears filled his eyes, already dangerously close to spilling over. Yuuichi didn't respond, at least not verbally- he gently picked Kyoya up, still swaddled in all those blankets, and he cradled him on his knee, just like he did when Kyoya was a baby…

Kyoya hated to admit it, but this did genuinely make him feel better- he felt so, so stupid for it, but being held by his older brother like that was actually so comforting, and Kyoya wasn't exactly sure why. Yuuichi gently shushed him, even though Kyoya hadn't made any noise, and just began to rock him gently. It wasn't as effective as when Kyoya was tiny, but it was still oddly comforting… like laying on a pool floaty and taking a nap.

After a while, Yuuichi gently put Kyoya down, frowning slightly, "can you tell me why you were talking with those people? I know you've been more social in highschool, but you actively hate some of those people."

Kyoya had sighed, really not wanting to have to admit to anything, so he attempted to lie his way through it. "Well I… it's a mutually beneficial alliance, personal opinions aren't a part of the equation. You of all people should know not to involve emotions in business."

"Kyoya, you're seventeen, you don't have any business to attend to," Yuuichi sighed, before reaching out and ruffling Kyoya's hair, "you should be paying attention to your feelings, you're at the age where you need to be fighting for your happiness." He smiled a little, that friendly, overly soft smile, that Kyoya knew meant he was about to get nosey, "I heard you had a day out yesterday, did you have fun?"

Now, Kyoya usually hated it when his siblings tried to pry into his private life, but Yuuichi was giving him a chance to talk about the wonderful day he'd had yesterday, and Kyoya couldn't help but to smile. "Well myself and Tamaki went to a little commoner-ran store to order custom food platter, because Tamaki wanted to do a theme based on commoner foods, and then-"

"Do you enjoy regular food then?"

"Huh?" Kyoya paused, looking up at Yuuichi in confusion, "what do you mean? We aren't talking about regular food, we're talking about commoner food?"

His brother had laughed at him, and Kyoya didn't quite understand why, "come on Kyoya, you're smarter than that- think about it for like, two seconds." But Kyoya still didn't understand, why would regular food be- oh.

"Oh. Oh dear, it seems I spend too much time around the others." He glances down in shame, having just embarrassed himself in front of his brother like that, he was just glad it was Yuuichi and not Akito- Akito would have just laughed.

Yuuichi, however, only chuckled a little, pulling Kyoya in and ruffling his hair even further, "Nothing wrong with having friends, even if you do pick up strange habits from them. Either way, do you like regular food then?"

Kyoya just hesitantly nodded, remembering yesterday's lunch, and that one time Haruhi bought him a burger. He wasn't sure why Yuuichi had asked him that, what use could that information be to him? His brother had smiled at him, clearly liking that reacting, then he glanced down at the untouched tray of food.

"How about we go grab some fast food for dinner? You don't seem too keen on lunch so we'll go early, how about five?" Kyoya was caught off guard by this- Yuuichi actively wanted to spend time with him? He hadn't just written the note to be nice? He was silent, just staring up at Yuuichi in silence. "What'd you say, Kyo? Wanna hang out with your big bro?"

Kyoya just quietly nodded, not smiling or even speaking, he was just- he didn't even know why Yuuichi wanted to hang out with him, didn't his brother have more important things to do? It seemed that Yuuichi had noticed his confusion, putting a gentle hand on Kyoya's shoulder.

"Kyoya, you're my baby brother and you're clearly going through something right now… Fiyumi told me there are fresh scars, please understand that I care about you, people care about you."

Oh. He'd been told about the scars, of course he had, why else would he be here? Kyoya had genuinely felt hope, that- for just a second, he thought his big brother actually wanted to hang out with him… he felt even worse then he had before. He hated being pitied, more than anything. But he couldn't tell Yuuichi how he felt, he knew his brother would never admit the pity. So he just smiled, nodding, making sure to appear to be the innocent child he knew his brother saw him as. Yuuichi seemed satisfied by this, smiling back and ruffling Kyoya's hair one last time before leaving the room, leaving Kyoya in an uncomfortable silence.

His phone was buzzing, he didn't need to check it to know it was the council, likely mocking him further. He just grabbed his blankets, wrapping them around himself again and flopping down on the bed, face in his pillow for a moment before he sighed and rested the side of his head on the pillow, looking over across the room and out the window. Kyoya hated the silence, he used silence to study, he used silence to cry, he only sat in silence when he was in pain- so he hated it. So he reached over to his phone, planning to just put some quiet music on- but he saw the notification sitting on his lockscreen, and he froze.

Woman: Yes of course, and he needs to hide behind his family all the time, he's barely a person without his name.

They were still talking about him, it hurt more that they were right; he did hide behind his surname too much, but it was all he had. He thought about how Fiyumi had helped him yesterday, how, even today, Yuuichi had come to his defence even without being asked, and had proceeded to promise to spend time with him… even Akito had been calling and texting him lately. It all felt so wrong, it was like he was a toddler again, he felt so babies, so protected. Eclair was right, he didn't exist without them right behind him- he certainly wouldn't be alive… if Fiyumi hadn't helped him with all those scars, even finding him after the first time it happened… he assumed he'd have gotten much worse, much sooner.

When he spent time with his siblings, it often made the bad thought disappear- so was that all he was without them? Was that who Kyoya was? Just an unstable bundle of bad thoughts? His fingers found his scars again, and he slowly traced over them, not daring to look… he was going to spend time with Yuuichi soon, he couldn't do that… but he wanted to, oh he was so tempted. He opened up the group chat, he could hurt himself in easier, less evident ways.

Child: He's a fucking wierdo, all those idiots my brother hangs out with are.

Woman#2: It's like, the only reason anyone even listens to, or pretends to care about him is because of who his father is.

Woman: Oh you don't know the half of it, he literally shows off his father's police force at any chance he gets.

He thinks being powerful is a personality trait.

Woman#2: I don't even know why they let him stay in the club, he doesn't even do any actual hosting.

Sorcerer: It's because Souh-san can't do maths.

Child: Lmao the guy he loves is using him, fucking ironic

Peasant: i think its sad…

Woman: Sad? It's fucking pathetic is what it is.

Kyoya promptly closed the group chat, feeling tears biting his eyes. He really, truly, desperately wanted to text Tamaki- to just ask if that was true. He knew it wasn't, he knew it, made no sense for it to be true… but that didn't stop it from hurting. His phone buzzed again, and Kyoya reacted with rage, tossing the thing across his bedroom, and curling up into a ball. Sure, he hated himself, and reason didn't really come into the equation at this point- but logic was Kyoya's best… and only quality, so he had to reason that bothering Tamaki, or anyone for that matter, would only serve to make himself look stupid, or crazy, or something to that degree.

He was still sitting in silence, and he didn't really want to get up in order to grab his phone. He wished he had one of those smart home things like the twins had, but his father considered them spyware- even if the house was already covered in cameras and microphones. Kyoya just lay there, maybe it wouldn't be silent if he was crying, but he couldn't cry… at least not like normal people. He was always silent in his sadness, tears running down his cheeks, he hated crying… it just reminded him how he wasn't normal, how he was broken- unemotional. He used to be proud of his silence when he was younger, he wasn't loud nor a bother like other children, he didn't scream or throw tantrums, he just sat quietly, getting on with his studies.

He had trained himself to be silent, thinking he'd be loved more, if he was quieter, more productive. Now that was all he was worth, it seemed he'd dug his own grave… he wasn't sure if he wanted to lay in it- death sounded wonderful, but he was terrified of leaving the people he cares about. He just lay there, he lay there… he stayed there for hours, just quietly crying- but then he got too tired to cry, and he felt quite thirsty, but he didn't want to move, so he lay there uncomfortably, staring into the middle distance.

#kyoya ootori #ouran high school host club #umehito nekozawa #eclair tonnerre #Seika Ayanokoji #Akira Komatsuzawa #arai #ohshc arai #kyoyassecondshot #Second

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

This bloody door

a lil blurb of complete fluff - readerxharryholland

“THIS. BLOODY. DOOR.” You shouted at no one in particular, really hoping the door would get the message of how much of a bitch it was being, not letting the key that was crafted just for it to work, instead of relying on a shove from your left shoulder. Which of course it wouldn’t get the message - because it was a door. A plank of wood.

That didn’t matter though. After the possibly the worst day you had ever experienced everyone was in for it tonight, the shoe that had given you such bad blisters that now you were absolutely ruining them by wearing them as slippers; the door; and let's not forget the lift that wouldn’t whisk you away quick enough to hide your tears after… after the presentation from hell. The lanky selfish prick, that most people called James but you simply called the fuckwit of a boss, had literally shredded apart your project in 10 minutes - that had been months of work. He was a dick, the lift was a dick and the door to your shared flat also had many similar characteristics.

“You know it won’t like you if you shout at it” Y/f/n, your best friend and flatmate spoke calmly as she rounded the corner into the hallway - looking at you sympathetically. You weren’t one to blow your top often, she knew today must truly have not gone your way. Replying with a cold hard stare at her, it took a moment before Y/f/n offered any solution. “You wanna rant?”

“Well for one we need a new shitting door because I just almost dislocated my shoulder getting in.” You started sarkily, earning an amused scoff from Y/f/n which didn’t really help your mood. “But chronologically? Well some randomer poured half their coffee down my blouse on the tube this morning which you know was annoying because of my presentation. Then got to work,Fuckwit made a comment about me not scrubbing up well because of the coffee stain- even though he looks like a horse chewed up some hay and then just spat it on the top of his greasy head- and THEN he shat all over my fucking presentation simply because he’s an ignorant arsehole who doesn’t care about the environment EVEN THOUGH sustainability is now a big selling point and I know for a fact we’d be getting double the amount of profit if he launched my range!” Hands were flying all over the place as you raged, Y/f/n just standing opposite with a sympathetic nod.

You had this agreement with Y/f/n - sometimes people just needed to let it all out, no filter, no judgement and no crappy advice. So sometimes, if either of you needed it, the other would just stay quiet and instead just really really listen. It was one of the many reasons you completely loved your best mate.

“And you know I was sobbing and almost ran out the conference room because you know, it was absolutely mortifying. And when I felt like that there was only one person I wanted to talk to, no offence to you but, I wanted to call Harry. And I pulled out my phone to, you know to ask for a bit of sympathy from my boyfriend but instead, I was cruelly reminded of the fact he left me on read almost two days ago. And I’m not a possessive girlfriend who wants to know where he is all the time or whatever, even though I think most people probably would because you know his job means girls literally fall at his feet, but no it's not me. Still though…2 DAYS? I mean he was the one who asked me to be his girlfriend, and I get he’s busy directing on the other side of the world but all I need is a single text saying sorry I’m a bit busy at the moment.”

“Y/n” That wasn’t allowed during a rant, you weren’t allowed to interrupt the other. So naturally, you just completely ignored Y/f/n chiming in.

“And like it's even worse because you know he’s been away for ages and I kind of had a realisation a couple of days ago. Before you say anything I know I don’t know what love is right? I know that but-but I think I maybe possibly might actually love him. And that terrifies me but its the truth. I really do think I could quite possibly be in love with him. So-so now” Your voice broke a little at the point, the rage and anger dissipating into sadness - and there was no other word for it. Just this heavy thing that felt like it was weighing you down.

“Y/n I really-“

“So now I have a boyfriend who I love but is ignoring me, have probably lost my job” The voice breaking now was you gulping down an almost sob, again completely ignoring your best mate “and the door is still a dick” Y/f/n laughed a little at that, however, was too busy staring intently at you to take any real appreciation for your comedy in a time of almost-break down.

“…you’ve got nothing to say?” After what felt like minutes of silence, you prompted Y/f/n to speak - it took her opening and closing her mouth but she got there in the end.

“Sorry just a shock um… I think… I think maybe you should go sit on the sofa.”

“God fucking Einstein aren’t you? How could I forget the sofa fixes a broken heart, unemployment and a door?” You didn’t mean to be so sarcastic and cruel, and Y/f/n knew that too - she wasn’t going to take offence after how angry you are at the world.

“Y/n just shut your mouth and go into the living room” You rolled your eyes but followed her orders, marching angrily into your small and simple living room. Sure it wasn’t a luxury, but renting a two bed in London wasn’t exactly the most affordable thing - both of you had still managed to inject a nice cozy vibe into it though, with fairy lights and throw cushions and blankets.

However this evening it had a certain new piece of decor that definitely wasn’t there when you left this morning. Sitting bolt upright with a shit eating grin was a sight that was almost impossible. A curly haired, skinny but oh so safe looking man perched on the couch. Your curly haired, skinny but safe boy. It was almost impossible but at the same time, somehow, very very real.

“Hi” He uttered awkwardly, almost looking scared of your blank, confused expression. You just didn’t get it you didn’t understand and stood their frozen, hands held out slightly as if you were waiting for someone to pass you a plate or something. After a couple of seconds, Y/f/n got bored of the nothing - gently shoving you from behind, meaning you had no choice but to lurch forward, run and then almost jump on Harry, his back pushed into the back of the sofa with your momentum.

Everything just felt so much more right as you listened to his deep chuckle reverberate around his chest. From your position straddling him and arms clinging round his neck as though you were some sort of a koala, Harry finally had all of you in his grasp after months apart. That’s why he’d arranged this whole thing with Y/f/n to surprise you by coming home earlier than what he had told you- it was also why he had been leaving all your messages unanswered, he’d been on flights back and also thought it would be an even better surprise if you hadn’t spoken in a while. Now though, he just felt extremely guilty as your chest started shaking in a way he’d never seen before.

“Hey it’s okay.... just take a minute yeh?”

Because of course he had heard you shouting from the doorway, the flat was only small. He knew you’d had an incredibly shit day, also knowing that sometimes you need a cry just to let it all out. And so he let you, gently rubbing up and down your back while you sniffled into his chest. With a small nod to Harry, Y/f/n made herself scarce - more than reassured Harry had the situation under control.

It must’ve been a couple of minutes, of you just quietly crying into his chest whilst his heartbeat calmed you down. Eventually, though, you leant back but still with your arms round his neck, just enough so you could meet his eyes. “Hey” Harry whispered, as he moved one arm from around your waist to gently wipe away a singular tear drop on your cheek.

“You’re so bloody annoying” You laughed, a sort of wet and congested laugh but still with oh so soft eyes for the boy in front of.

“That's seriously how your gonna greet me? I flew halfway across the world to see you!” He quipped back, gently squeezing you hip as he spoke.

“Yeah well, you didn’t reply to me!” It was a jokey statement with a faked pout - because not to be cocky but having him infant of you like this you knew. Harry wouldn’t have flown home for someone he didn’t care about, his pupils wouldn’t be so incredibly wide and your heartbeats wouldn’t have exactly synced up - which you had noticed as you were lent against his chest.

“I was just trying to surprise you! But yeh was a bit of a dick move.”

“As long as you know it” He laughed at that and you took the opportunity to try and clamber off him somewhat - yet Harry just clamped you down with his hands again, not letting you move from your position straddled over him.

“So have I made the worlds shittest day a little less shit then?” He taunted making you roll your eyes but instead of sassing him back you just leant down and feathered your lips on his momentarily. He whined when you pulled away since your lips had barely ghosted over his; your hands now cupping his sharp jaw and cheeks. Both of you just took a moment to look at each other, for the first time in too long, trying to commit every aspect and little perfect imperfection to memory.

“So” you whispered, biting your lip, with the knowledge Harry had heard everything you’d shouted at Y/f/n when you came in and knowing Harry well enough to know he would definitely bring it up - to no doubt mock you.

“So… you think you could ‘maybe possibly might be in love with me’ is that right?” There it was, Harry was never one for beating round the bush. Moreover, that just proved you knew him like the back of your hand - it made you chuckle almost silently, shaking you had with amusement. “Well I was wondering what could make you a bit more certain of that and… and I’ve already asked Tom and all his year of carpentry experience to fix ‘that bloody door’”

“And why would you want me to be more certain?” You only asked because you knew. You knew him and you could read everything he was feeling like a book. And you liked to tease him

“Perhaps because I maybe possibly most definitely am in love with you?… what do you say huh?”

“Fix my door first., then we can talk.”

#Harry Holland #harry holland x reader #Harry holland x y/n #harry holland fluff #tom holland #tomholland

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songsofloretto · 3 years

Text

Kieran gave me this earlier. I like writing for Kieran. He's a nasty bastard trying to turn his life around which makes him multi-faceted but as a character giving direction he's easy to 'feel'. Kieran never does third person perspective. His stories are always first person and written like a commentary.

Kieran, Nicky, Rory and Matthew

Sainsbury's, May 2021

"Uncle Kieran can I have these water pistols?"

It's been 30 years since I last took a child grocery shopping. It was bad enough in the 1980s with the kids wanting the sweets at the end of the checkout and all that. Fast forward to the 21st century and the problem has absolutely mushroomed, along with the size of supermarkets in general. Before I went to prison supermarkets only sold food. These days they sell everything from sun-dried tomatoes to fecking funeral plans. Nothing is sacred from these corporate giants. There are whole sections devoted to toys so there's no avoiding the inevitable pleas from children presented with their every wildest dream every time you call in for a pint of milk. Our Matthew's grandson is no different. The little lad is only four years old and to him this toy section is like every Christmas morning he's ever dreamed of all rolled in to one.

"Eh?" I say.

Rory lifts a box of four water pistols from the shelf and almost topples over under the weight of them. I grab it quick and steady him before he smacks his head off the corner of a shelf.

"Woah," I say to him, "steady on, our kid."

"I want these water pistols," Rory says emphatically, "there's four altogether. You, me, Uncle Nicky and Grandad can all play with them in the garden."

I look at the box. The pistols are nothing special. I've seen more power in a carrot. But the kid is right. It's a boiling hot day and perhaps an hour in the garden shooting each other up is exactly what this fecked up family needs to bond.

And who can say no to little Rory, who hasn't seen his daddy in over a year. Deaglan has been stuck in New York over this bloody pandemic, unable to get home to his son, missing out on all the drama we have going on here. The kid, innocently caught in the middle of it all, deserves a little joy in his life. I take a pistol out of the box and work my finger over the trigger, pretending to shoot, while Rory laughs and crouches down low.

"Aye you can have them," I tell him, and ruffle his hair with my fingers.

Right on cue the ever uptight Nicky slides up to us, almost falling over himself in his desperation to spoil any fun. He's swaggering about in his police uniform with a stick up his arse as usual. No tie or epaulettes but you can still tell he's an off-duty police officer. The cunt.

"I don't think so," he says rather efficiently as he plucks the box and the pistols out of my hands.

"What the f...Nicky!" I say, and pull the box back from him, "what's wrong with you?"

"I don't think it's appropriate for children to play with guns," Nicky says matter-of-factly.

"Aww!" Rory whines, "please, Uncle Nicky!"

His face creases and I can't bear to see him look sad. I know from experience that arguing with Nicky isn't easy. He's a jumped-up, self-important and arrogant little prick. In fact he's just like me when I was his age. It amuses me somewhat. I know that he'll get wound up like a clock if I challenge his decision - and I'm really trying to make friends with him, honest - but I've got to try and change his mind, for the little lad's sake.

"Well they're only water pistols," I say with a little shrug, "not gonna do much damage with them, eh, Nick auld fella?"

Nicky pulls a straight-laced expression and looks down his nose at me like a seasoned bloodhound would look at a yapping pup. He thinks I'm scum, I realise as we face each other off. He'll always look down on me like this, because in his bright, British eyes I'll always represent the dirty side of Ireland. I feel the vein on my temple flicker. I have to take a deep breath to keep my cool.

"It's not about any potential risk of damage," Nicky breaks the tension between us with a belittling little sniff, "it's about the psychology. Teaching children that guns are good fun and can't hurt anyone is a slippery slip. Before we know it he'll be twelve years old and shooting up his gym class."

"Fuck off Nicky, this is England, not America," I try to laugh off his point but he just keeps staring.

"And I don't think you, of all people, Kieran O'Driscoll, are in any position at all to be encouraging my nephew to take an interest in firearms," Nicky looks down his nose at me again.

I've been trying hard to handle his snooty arrogance for weeks. I really have. But something inside me snaps.

"Why?" I ask, squaring up to him, "because I was in the IRA? Is that it?"

I don't know what I'm doing. I'm 79 years old. Nicky is 45. I haven't got a chance against him in a fight, especially not with all his police training, but it's my pride that pushes me on. I have to stand up for myself, be a man about it. Teach this little arsehole a lesson.

"Yes," Nicky nods his head, "because you dealt firearms for terrorist organisation. And I don't want you playing with any sort of gun, imitation or otherwise, in front of my brother's son."

Deaglan is Nicky's own twin brother. They've never met. They were seperated at birth. Deaglan stayed in Ireland with Matthew, Nicky went to England with Kate. And now he fancies himself as the big Englishman, the creme de la creme of Britishness, superior above each and all other nationalities. And he spent his whole life loathing the Irish for putting his mother in a wheelchair. She was was a British soldier, victim of an IRA bomb, Newry police station, 1975. Sad story.

It was a terrible shock to poor Nicholas Jamie Hawley when he discovered that his father was not, as his mother always told him, a dead British soldier who died for his country in a halo of bullets. His father Matthew is in fact a proud Ulsterman who is very much alive and even did time for murder. Nicky's brain must have exploded inside his skull when it tried to digest this information. When he realised that half of him bled for Ireland it nearly knocked him sick.

But he had to get used to the idea because this pandemic threw us all together under the same roof, forcing us to learn to love and live with each other. And so here we are, factions of a long-estranged family trying to find common ground, and about to start fighting over water pistols in Sainsbury's.

"You'll never forgive me for being ex-IRA, will you?" I ask him.

"Never," Nicky lifts his chin, "once a terrorist, always a terrorist in my book."

"I did my time, Nicholas," I tell him, "27 years in a hell-hole of a prison. Oh Lord I suffered. And I'm deeply sorry for my transgressions as a younger man."

"Sorry will never be enough," Nicky whispers, "what your sort did to my mother..."

I close my eyes. I don't like think of it. And all over some water pistols to make the little lad happy!

The Voice of Reason enters stage left. Here is Matthew O'Driscoll, everyone's favourite peace-keeping fence-sitter. He spent an age parking the car and has only just joined us. He's as Irish as I am but everyone loves him, even Nicky, because...well because he's Matthew. Need I say more?

Matthew is astute. He studies the body language between me and his long-lost son and folds his arms, awaiting explanation.

"What's going on?" he asks.

"The wee bairn wanted a few water pistols to play with," I said, "and PC Gobshite over here has got an issue with it."

Matthew looks at Nicky who blushes a little as if he suddenly feels rather foolish.

"I didn't think it was ok," he says. His mouth is suddenly dry and he swallows, "to promote guns to a child. I'm in Loco Parentis for Rory. Deaglan has trusted me to look after him. I don't want to fuck it up and send the kid back to his dad thinking guns are ok. Because they're not. What would Deaglan think of me?"

He gives Matthew a slow look. Matthew nods his head. He is trying to understand Nicky's perspective. The man is nervous about all this family stuff. He's still reeling from the shock of discovering he has a family he never knew, that the family is Irish, that there is a man out there in the world who shares his face. Appearance and reputation is key right now. Nicky has never been a parent and suddenly, thanks to the pandemic, he's stepping in to care for his twin brother's son. He wants to do a good job. Of course he does.

It's interesting that Nicky never gives Matthew any stick about being Irish. Let's not forget that Matthew did prison time too. In 1994 he shot his own best mate in the head to stop the IRA from kidnapping and torturing him. We've never spoken about the fact it was me who ordered Brophy's kidnapping in the first place. If I'd have got my hands on Donnachadh Brophy all those years I'd have cut his balls off, fried them in Crisp N Dry oil, added little salt and pepper to taste and made the cunt eat them. But not now. I've mellowed out now. I'm not like that any more. I wouldn't hurt a hair on Brophy's head if he were alive today. And I don't deal in guns. Except water pistols because...well they're water pistols for feck's sake.

"You mean you've taken offence to Kieran handling a gun because he's Irish, is it that it?" Matthew asks.

"Not because he's Irish, per se," Nicky says, "but because of...it's because he has previous."

Matthew nods. The simple action brings calm to the situation. Nicky is feeling heard. He relaxes a little.

"I know you still suffer the fear of the IRA," Matthew says to him softly, "I know as a kid they haunted your dreams. You grew up thinking you had to protect your Mammy from them. But it's all in the past, Nicky. Wether we like it or not we're all together now and there are things we have to forgive each other for if we're going to survive this virus. And survive as a family. Because that's all any of us ever longed for, isn't it? It's time to let go, son."

Matthew takes the pistol from Nicky's grip. The police officer tightens but then releases his hold, surrendering control to the father he never knew he had, and letting go of the toy gun. It's very poignant, metaphorical moment. Makes the man in me uncomfortable so I try to inject some humour to make it bearable.

"Fecking hell," I scoff, "who do you think you are Matty eh? A walking example of the Good Friday Agreement?"

Matthew doesn't take his eyes from Nicky's face. A silent agreement is passing between them.

"Shut up, Ki," Matthew says without looking at me, "it's all right, Nicky. We're going to take these pistols home, fill them up with water and have a big old laugh together. Three generations shooting cold water at each other. And it will be safe, it will be ok. Because it's what families do together all the time."

"Ok," Nicky starts scratching at his arms in that way he has when needs to self-soothe with a wash, "we'll have a water fight. Together. But I'll need to get a shower first."

"If it makes you feel better," Matthew nodded.

He understands Nicky's need to be clean better than I do. I've never known a man so obsessed with washing his skin, changing his clothes, marinating in aftershave because unfamiliar smells upset him. As soon as you walk into the house we all share his first question is 'have you washed your hands?' He won't let you touch anything until you wash your own hands at the kitchen sink. Which by the way is a Belfast model. That little detail is lost on Nicky. It brings me a private sort of amusement.

Nicky's scratching intensifies. We'll have to hurry up with the shopping now because he has it in his head that he needs a wash and a preen. If he doesn't get to a shower soon he'll start getting all upset with himself. There's no time to argue now.

Matthew hands the pistol to the four-year-old whose innocence is responsible for bringing us all together. And then we all walk on, four abreast, to find the pint of milk we all came in looking for in the first place.

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jakeperalta · 3 years

Note

Hi. I’m interacting non-anonymously in what I hope is a show of good faith, and I hope you’ll treat me the same. This is gonna be long, forgive me.

The majority of current kaylors is young queer people. They’re minors. I take issue with the previous message suggesting that they just need to realize not everything has to be gay to be enjoyed because?? No. It’s not on them. That’s not the point. The point is that these young people have been manipulated into believing a conspiratorial narrative because they are vulnerable - manipulated by these horrible older straight women who are taking advantage of them. I’ve read at least three different stories from minors who, when they realized there’s no way kaylor is real, broke down in some capacity. Blaming fifteen year olds who feel so desperately alone and thus fall for a conspiracy is simply not helpful. It actually makes it worse, because all you’re doing (general you) is isolating them from other people and other points of view, which just means this kaylor community is even more essential for them. Let’s call out the people taking advantage of them!! (These are also people who have outed minors to their families.)

Secondly, I think it’s important to recognize that thinking Taylor Swift is gay is *not* the same thing as harassing her, being invasive, not respecting her privacy, etc. there are people who are absolutely fine with doing that, and that’s fucked up, I’m not arguing that. This is where I hope you’ll treat me kindly and not mock me: I don’t think Taylor Swift is straight. I’m a gaylor. But I think she’s gay in the same way that I think Walt Whitman is gay - there is queer coding in their lyrics and poetry respectively. Believe it or not, it’s not actually creepy to say “hey.... dude.... this sounds really gay.” It’s not invasive to point out literary themes. And no, it’s actually not a sad way to spend my time. Like, it’s my time first of all, and second of all if analyzing lyrics and imagery brings me delight, that’s pretty great. I can do that, and I do do that, without harassing anyone. It’s not the same.

Thirdly, talking about “hey, Taylor used rainbow motifs constantly in the lover era.... gay question mark????” is also not the same as invading her privacy, because it is something she publicly did. It wasn’t some kind of plane tracking shit or harassing the Alwyns, it was a whole ass music video that she purposefully put out. And looking at that, talking about that kind of symbolism, is also not hurting anyone. Conspiracy blogs believe Taylor is lurking, secretly watching kaylors, sending them anons encouraging them, but... Taylor doesn’t. She has a life. So my (and my friends’, who are equally logical) measly blog is not something she cares about. It doesn’t harm her for people to question her sexuality - like, basically every celebrity in her generation at this point has capitalized on queer fans seeing themselves in them. She doesn’t care what we say on our own. It doesn’t actively hurt her for me to make a gifset of lyrics I think are gay lmao. And I want to say that none of us like... bother taylor or anyone else irl. obviously!!

Finally (and I really do apologize for the length of this), the fact that there are people who believe that karlie has a fake baby and her real baby is in hiding, that karlie has faked her conversion, that joe alwyn isn’t the love of taylor’s life, that karlie and taylor are married, and my absolute favorite, that karlie kloss is a double agent spying on the kushners for the FBI.... it’s funny, you know? It’s humorous. Except it also isn’t, because it’s absolutely disgusting. It’s creepy, it’s horrific, it represents the worst in our culture. My argument is not that this isn’t despicable, because it fucking is. But I believe that there is nuance here.

I used to hate all gaylors. I made fun of them. And it wasn’t thinking Taylor’s gay that made me change my attitude. It was realizing that conspiracy theories only survive when there is a power imbalance. Someone holds the power, and they should be toppled. They should be shattered like marbled statues. But not everyone holds the power.

this is all very polite so honestly no offence but I'm just not invested enough in any of this to to into depth so I'll just sum up my thoughts:

I know a lot tinhatters are minors and I've only ever spoken about the concept, I don't call out individuals

I've never said that saying she's gay is the same as harassing her but I think both are weird just on different levels

we can explore her lyrics from a literary analysis standpoint without turning into theories on her private life

#glorious-sunrise #answered

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perspective-series · 4 years

Text

Kingdom Perspective (6)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Fear, panic, kidnapping, keeping/treating people like pets, threats, and unwanted touching/grabbing

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

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Logan also made a hasty retreat, heading in the opposite direction. He waited until they were once again alone, shutting the bedroom door behind him. He lifted the human up so that he could see Pat’s little trembling form in his palms.

“Patton, are you alright?” Logan’s eyebrows furrowed with worry, heading over to the bed.

“I-I…” Patton shook his head. “I’m sorry! I’m really sorry! I-I won’t do it again! P-Please...don’t…” A few tears escaped Patton’s eyes.

“Patton, it’s...fine.” Logan shook his head. “I’m not upset with you, you’re not going to be punished.”

Patton sniffed, looking up at Logan with some hesitance. “You...You aren’t? B-But your father said…” Patton trailed off, still shaking.

“I know.” Logan sat down, sinking into the soft mattress. “But tonight is just another instance proving my father knows nothing about humans. It would be wrong to punish you. Your track record speaks for itself.”

A wave of relief washed over Patton and he laughed a little as a few more tears escaped him. He wiped them away. “Th-Thank you, Logan.”

Logan rubbed his thumb gently along Patton’s cheek, also helping to wipe away his tears. “I am...confused, however.” Logan admitted, pulling his hand away with a frown.

“O-Oh, right, um…” Patton should have expected he would have to explain himself. “I uh, I...couldn’t handle seeing the other human so scared like that. I wasn’t even really thinking...but I guess I figured if I caused a distraction the king would...forget about them?” Patton shrugged and looked down, ashamed.

“...I see.” Logan said, finally understanding. “Patton, that was very valiant of you, but in the future you simply must refrain from self-sacrificing yourself like that. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Patton swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “R-Right. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” Logan hugged the human to his chest, giving a slow sigh of relief that the evening was over. “I just don’t know what I’d do with myself if I lost you.”

Patton just nodded, doing his best to hug back. He wasn’t sure what he would do in this world without Logan either.

***

Roman closed the door of his room behind him with a sigh before looking down at Virgil in his hands. “I am so sorry about all that. I didn’t know my father would be that bad. Are...Are you alright?”

“I...I’m alright.” Virgil nodded, still shaken by the events of the evening.

“Good...That’s good.” Roman walked over to his desk, and let Virgil off his hand. He took a seat and just let out a large sigh as he placed his head in his hands. “Well...things could have been worse?” He sent Virgil a hesitant smile.

Virgil nodded again, his mind always ready to supply worst-case scenarios. Of course, tonight had still been pretty bad.

“Can you…do me a favor?” Virgil asked, his arms subconsciously wrapping around himself.

Roman frowned. “What?”

“Can you make sure that...other human isn’t punished?” Virgil realized he still didn’t know the other guy’s name. If it had been spoken at dinner, Virgil certainly didn’t catch it.

Roman smiled softly. It was cute how Virgil was worried about Logan’s human. “Well, I can certainly try. Though...it didn’t seem like Logan was all that angry with him.” Roman hummed, thinking back to it. He had to wonder why Patton had suddenly done that. “I can still go double-check though, if you want?”

“Please.” Virgil affirmed, looking a bit downtrodden. “I don’t want anyone punished because of me.”

Roman frowned, a little confused at that. Wait, had Patton done that for Virgil? It...made sense he supposed but he still wondered why the other human had done that. He shook the question away for now and nodded at Virgil. He paused. “...Do you...want to come with me?”

“Uh, probably not a good idea.” Virgil pointed out, wincing. “Y’know, in case Logan’s still irritated or something.” Frankly Virgil didn’t want to see anymore Giants for a lifetime. This included Roman, but unfortunately he seemed to be stuck with him.

Roman nodded. “Alright.” He scooped Virgil up and quickly put him in the cage, locking it. “I’ll be back soon.” He left his room and headed back to Logan’s. He realized briefly that this was probably the most he had ever gone to Logan’s room in a single day. Perhaps even in a week. Weird to think about.

He didn’t knock on the door, though he actually had a reason for not knocking as he wanted to catch Logan off guard just in case he was punishing Patton. So, he barged in. “Logan?”

Logan jumped slightly, Patton still held close to his chest. “What did I say about knocking?” Logan reminded him, although he was quite relieved to see it was Roman and not father.

“I came to make sure you weren’t punishing Patton!” Roman exclaimed and Patton’s eyes went wide. Wait, why did Roman care if he was punished or not?

“No I’m not punishing Patton.” Logan paused, confused by Roman’s choice of words. “I take it father didn’t send you, then?”

“No, my human sent me to check. He said he didn’t want anyone punished because of him.” Roman said, looking down at Patton.

Patton smiled, the other human cared about him? That was nice. Now he’s kind of glad he did that whole thing, despite it not having worked.

Logan smirked. “Ah, so you’ve been demoted to human messenger boy; it suits you.” Logan teased.

Roman gasped in offence. “I have not. I also thought that Patton shouldn’t have been punished. So I was just making sure you weren’t doing such a thing.”

“I have no plans to punish Patton.” Logan repeated sincerely. “Although I appreciate that you were concerned. It bodes well for your new companion. Father believes fear is a powerful motivator, and it is, but personally I believe positive reinforcement and rewards are much more successful long-term when it comes to humans.”

Roman nodded. “Right...I’ll, uh, remember that.” Roman let out a deep breath and turned around to leave. “Alright, well, I’ll leave you be then.” He started towards the door.

“Wait!” Patton suddenly shouted, placing a hand over his mouth as Roman turned around and blinked in shock. Well, it seems like Patton wasn’t thinking about a lot of things today.

“...yes, Patton?” Logan held Patton out further, raising an eyebrow in confusion at Patton’s second consecutive outburst. “You have our attention.”

“I, um, sorry, I just…” Patton bit his lip nervously. “Can I...meet the other human?”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? Like a...playdate or something?” Roman asked. He thought for a moment before grinning. “I mean, I’m down.” He turned to Logan.

“What, right now?” Logan looked between the two of them, unsure. “It might be a bit overwhelming after the evening’s activities.”

“Oh, I agree.” Roman said, crossing his arms. “But we could do it tomorrow? Maybe do it during lunch or something?” He turned to Patton with a smile. “How does that sound?”

Patton nodded, perfectly okay with it. “Y-Yeah!”

“Yes, I could rearrange my studies for that…” Logan began to plan it out in his mind. He certainly wanted to grant Patton the opportunity, considering Patton was almost never this excited. “Alright, the two of you are welcome to join Patton and me for lunch tomorrow.”

“Yay!” Patton cheered in excitement. Roman smiled at how absolutely adorable that was.

“Great! Guess I’ll see you guys tomorrow then!” Roman turned to leave and was halfway out the door before twirling back around and waving at Patton. “Bye Patton.”

Patton smiled and waved bye back and then Roman was gone.

“You’d think getting a human of his own would lower his fascination with you.” Logan mused, taking note of the fact that Roman had said goodbye to Patton and yet not to himself.

Patton just giggled. Excited to meet the other human tomorrow.

***

Roman made it back to his room, going to sit at his desk. He smiled down at Virgil. “Alright, good news! Logan’s human is perfectly fine!”

“Good.” Virgil breathed a sigh of relief. He would’ve felt terrible if the other human had suffered.

“Also...we have a playdate scheduled for tomorrow!” Roman announced with a grin.

Virgil frowned. “A what now?”

“Logan’s human wants to meet you, so we’re going to have lunch with them tomorrow!” Roman clapped his hands together. “It’ll be great!”

“Oh.” Virgil was quite intrigued to meet the other human. He wasn’t so excited to see Logan again, but at dinner he hadn’t seemed so bad (other than prancing his human across the table), and if Virgil wanted to meet Logan’s human it made sense Logan would have to be there as well.

...okay, Virgil really needed to stop calling this guy ‘the human.’

“Hey what’s his name, anyways?” Virgil asked finally.

“Oh! His name is Patton!” Roman answered. “A cute name for a cute human!”

The way Roman announced that made Virgil pause. “Is that like, his actual name, or is that just what you guys call him?”

Roman frowned in thought. “Uh, I am pretty sure that is his actual name. Logan’s not creative enough to come up with a name like that.” Roman chuckled.

Virgil just shrugged, realizing he wouldn’t know for sure until he met the guy tomorrow. Patton...it was a cute name. Virgil wondered how long he’d been stuck here, and if he ever tried to escape before.

And what consequences awaited him when he did.

Roman let out a loud yawn, rubbing at his eyes. “I think it’s about time we head to bed. It’s certainly been a long day.” Roman stood up and stretched, grabbing Virgil’s cage and carrying it over to his nightstand. He then went to go change real quick.

When he came back out, he glanced in Virgil’s cage and realized...maybe the guy would want a blanket. Whoops.

He started searching for one, before finding a small enough cloth that would work for now. He could get one made special later. He went over and opened the cage. “Here you go Virgil. I, uh, figured you would want this.” He placed the cloth inside.

“Wow, your generosity knows no bounds.” Virgil rolled his eyes, glancing over the elegance and extravagance of everything else in the room. “Y’know while you’re at it I never did get my clothes back. You gonna uphold your end of the deal or what?”

Roman blinked before his eyes went wide. “Oh! Um, yes, they actually should have been back by now. Hold on.” Roman went straight to the lower dresser drawer and smiled when he saw Virgil’s clothes, clean and folded. He picked them up when he also noticed the five hoodies he had asked for. He picked those up too, looking them over. He had almost forgotten he had even asked for them.

They were definitely from the human world. That much Roman could tell. They also came in a few different colors. Though they were all dark and prominently featured black. He grinned. He was sure Virgil would love these! He took the hoodies with him as he headed back over to Virgil. He handed Virgil’s his regular clothes back, hiding the hoodies in his other hand. “There you go. All clean!”

Virgil inspected his clothes for any damage, smiling a bit when he saw none. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem.” Roman said. “And I also have a surprise for you!”

“...what kind of surprise?” Virgil asked cautiously, holding his clothes in a protected bundle.

Roman chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’m certain you’ll like this surprise.” He opened his hand to reveal the five hoodies. “Ta da! And they should all be your size too, since they got the size from your original hoodie.” Roman grinned and held his hand closer to Virgil so he could look and grab the hoodies.

Virgil took a cautious step back, setting his own clothes down before approaching. He grabbed them up, inspecting the various patterns. They did indeed look like they would fit. Of course, one look at them and Virgil knew these were stolen from the human world, too. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Soooo...why do I have these?” Virgil raised an eyebrow.

Roman grin fell slightly. He had been expecting a better reaction. “Well, uh, you know. You can never have too many hoodies...am I right?” He chuckled sheepishly. He wasn’t actually sure if that was a thing, considering he had just learned what a hoodie was earlier that day.

“I mean, I guess.” Virgil shrugged. Frankly the gift made him a bit uneasy. Sure these were soft enough, but they didn’t have the same personality as his hoodie, and if these were meant to be a replacement there was gonna be a problem. Not to mention Roman would probably make a whole deal of it if Virgil didn’t wear the hoodies, and it’d be kind of difficult to wear his hoodie at the same time as one of these like he’d done with the other clothes Roman gave him to wear.

Roman deflated and sighed, looking away for a moment before putting on a smile when he looked back at Virgil to close and lock his cage door. “Well...good night then.” He blew the candles out and got into bed, turning so his back was to Virgil.

Virgil rolled his eyes, not about to console Roman just because he was pouting. He looked down at the hoodies, realizing there was another way they could be useful. He gathered them up, folding them to form a pillow for his head. Then Virgil changed into his regular clothes, pulled his blanket around himself and eventually fell asleep.

#gt #Giant/tiny #thomas sanders #sanders sides #infinitesimal!sides #au #giants #human!virgil #human!patton #giant!roman #giant!logan #platonic #kingdom perspective #part 6

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