#This secret does not last through all of TSS but they give it a good go | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

greenninjagal-blog · 3 years

Text

Trouble

Hi yeah its me, and look I’m already back with a new fic for the new year :D cherish this moment I don’t think i will have have this turn around so quick again. For the TSS Fanworks Secret Santa Exchange because I was a pinch hitter :DD @nerdywriterhaven I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Patton has a thing about boardgames and Virgil has a thing about Logan. Together they figure it out.

Word Count: 7900

Quick Taglist: @alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Patton shows up at Virgil’s dorm room just slightly after six pm on a Tuesday with two thermoses of soup that are still warm to the touch, a halloween tupperware of chocolate chip cookies that had been passed between him and Virgil so many times that Patton really doesn’t remember whose it was originally, his laptop, phone, the chargers for both, and the board game Trouble.

Virgil, predictably, shuts the door in his face the second he sees the game box hidden under all the other things in his arms. Patton also thinks that Virgil tells him to go away, but it’s muddled by the door.

Instead he shuffles all the supplies to his left arm and knee, and knocks again on his door just below the leftover tape from the nametag that his RA keeps putting up and Virgil keeps ripping down because he doesn’t want anyone knowing where he sleeps. His knuckles hum with the rap, datatata dat dat! And he smiles even when there’s the sound of something being thrown at the door from that side.

Patton chooses not to hear it because he’s a good friend and an even more stubborn houseguest.

The door a little bit down the hall opens up with the usual fanfare of someone who is running late to a night class-- which of course is the charm of Roman Prince. He looks nice, as usual, and Patton even thinks that if he hadn’t been wearing two different colored shoes, no one would even know that he had probably just woken up from a nap. The music of his room blares out into the hall with a rap song Patton thinks is Hip With the Kids these days, but Patton himself can’t make out any of the actual words.

All the much better because he’s pretty sure it’s Remus’s music and Remus likes his songs like he likes just about everything else: dirty, scandalous, and offensive. Not that Patton is good friends with either of the Prince siblings, but he’s heard the rumors floating around about both. Roman smiles at him, with glittering white teeth and dimples and soft warm brown eyes that could have been made of melted chocolate.

“Oh! What a spectre!” Roman says, seeming to forget that he’s on the way to a class at the sight of Patton standing at Virgil’s door. “Tell me, angel, what brings a glorious sight such as you to our dorm buildings on this amazing day?”

Virgil’s door swings back open before Patton can answer and Virgil hisses from the darkness, the way he’s usually prone to do whenever Roman or Remus or their blatant disregard for the rules about music volume at two AM is brought up.

He looks not much better from the glimpse Patton got before the door was closed in his face earlier: he’s still pale to the point of looking sickly and dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, with his eye shadow smeared and his hair not brushed at all. There’s a red imprint on the side of his face that Patton thinks matches a crease in his blankets or pillows from where he probably tried to suffocate himself on and off all day between anxiously texting Patton all about “the absolute worst day of my entire life and no I’m not even exaggerating this time Pat”.

“Hi Virgil!” Patton says, as Virgil reaches forward and to take a thermos and the tupperware from his arms and glare unbidenedly at Roman. “I brought dinner!”

“I hate you,” Virgil says, and does not mean because he loves Patton’s Broccoli Cheddar Cheer Up Soup and he’s been in need of cheering up since Patton had seen his messages at noon on his way to his second class of the day.

Roman gasps like he’s offended on behalf of Patton who is not offended as much as endeared to his best friend of several years. “Virgil! How could you act so callus towards a beautiful muse such as this?”

“Get lost, Princey,” Virgil tells him firmly, grumpily, Virgil-ly. “He came here specifically to make a pun about my pain.”

“I do it with love,” Patton adds. “And I brought cookies to make up for it.”

Roman looks like he doesn’t know what to do with that information and Virgil doesn’t give him time to find out because he kinda hates Roman-- although Patton always tells him that “hate” is a strong word and Virgil always says he means it anyway. Patton supposes that if he, too, had hallmates that played music louder than life up to the early hours of the mornings during Finals Week, and then cranked it higher when he knocked on the door to ask them to stop, he might also strongly dislike them.

Virgil ushers Patton into the dark room and then kicks the door closed while Patton is waving goodbye at Roman.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light level: Virgil was certainly making use of those thick blackout curtains! It made the whole room look like it was three AM, rather than six PM! There are blobs of stuff all around the room, piles of clothes and blankets that Virgil prefers to have on the floor rather than put somewhere where he’s not going to trip over it in the middle of the night, but Patton supposes that’s just how Virgil’s always been.

“If someone breaks in, they’re gonna trip over this shit and I will be out of here long before they can get back up,” Virgil had said the first time Patton had suggested maybe, possibly cleaning something until they found the floor.

The desk where Virgil did his school work is empty and the textbooks and computer that normally covered it are all on the ground like a massacre from what Patton can make out. Virgil shuffles through the room and ends up turning on the purple lava lamp that Patton got him three years ago so that they could at least see each other and the faux-floor, and even then he doesn’t look happy at needing that much. The elevated bed had the blankets ripped up from it and turned into a nest with Virgil’s phone light peeking out from the depths like some underwater cave with a sea monster in it waiting for an unsuspecting diver.

“Remind me, how you got into this building?” Virgil says, tiredly as he pries open the cookie container. “It requires a key and last time I checked, you don’t have one of those, Pat.”

“As if a key would stop me from checking on you!” Patton replies. He plops himself on a pile of clothes and clears away another spot for Virgil to collapse next to him, so that Virgil can’t exactly escape. “Now, what is this about Logan again? You were being kinda vague and world-ending-y again. ”

Virgil lets out a moan around the cookie he shoved in his mouth and drops to the floor next to Patton, to munch angrily or just upsetly without actually offering an answer, because he’s Virgil and he’s allergic to talking about things that upset him. Patton sets down his other thermos, his laptop, and his own phone to make room for the game between them.

“Must we?” Virgil asks as Patton sets up the board with a practiced hand. Even in the near darkness of the room he knows exactly what he’s doing, and could probably figure it out with no light at all.

“Of course!” Patton says. “You sounded like you were in Trouble.”

“ Sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s rather Risk -y of you to be self deprecating while within hugging distance.”

Virgil doesn’t say anything for a moment, just swallows the bite of his cookie and stares at the colored pieces in front of him. The board game is well worn and well loved-- one of the first ones Patton had ever gotten and one of the first ones he ever convinced Virgil to play with him. Although “convinced” is a strong word for how Patton had just been staring at the board numbly with red rimmed eyes when his father had asked Virgil to come over and try to coax him into eating something, anything, please .

They’d lost three pieces of the red team and one of the yellow and two of the green, but that’s okay because Patton generally played blue and Virgil had custom ordered four purple pieces for just the two of them a few years ago.

Carefully, placatingly, Virgil reaches a hand forward and pops the dice bubble for his number. He gets a four.

Patton gets a five.

“How many times have we played this one, Pat?” Virgil asks, in a voice much softer than before. In the faded purple light and the shadows, it’s hard to see the number on the die, and harder to see exactly what Virgil is thinking about with his eyes hidden like that. His nails are bitten down to the quick, ruining the black nail polish he spent an hour applying last weekend over their shared Biology notes.

Patton shrugs as he reaches forward to take his turn and pops the bubble. Honestly he didn’t think he could calculate the answer if Virgil pressed: this was their go-to game, this was his go-to pun, this is what they did even when the world was falling apart at the seams. It was easier to focus on moving playing pieces a couple pegs than it was to focus on the sound of a heart monitor or raspy breathing or bony pale fingers that shook when they tried to hold anything.

It was easier to find a way to win when the instructions were so clear, and the rules were so fair, and the consequences of losing were just having to put the game back in the box.

Virgil doesn’t say anything more and Patton doesn’t force him to, although he desperately wants to. He wants to reach out and catch Virgil’s hands in his own, he wants to give him a squeeze, he wants to wipe away the tear tracks in his makeup and he wants to tell Virgil that whatever it is, Patton will be there for him.

He wants Virgil to look at a game for once and have fun.

But the only sound in the room is the popper when they roll the die back and forth.

Patton gets the six first. He moves his second leftmost piece to the start and hits it again for a three.

Virgil stares his blue piece on the board for a long moment, without blinking. His hands lie limply in his lap and the tub of cookies sits at his knee. The purple light makes his eyes glisten sweetly, wetly, sadly, with a resignation that Patton knows and wishes he doesn’t. The lump in his throat swells up.

“Virgil?”

Virgil blinks. And then blinks again.

“Why should I even bother at this point?” he asks. He runs a hand up to his hair and tugs at the locks.

“Virgil, this is the opening of the game,” Patton says. “You can’t give up alrea--”

“But it’s not like I’m going to win,” Virgil says and Patton sucks in a breath sharply.

Oh. It was one of those days.

Patton thinks that he should have been expecting this; it had been a decent amount of time since Virgil last had refused to finish a game, and Patton had almost thought that maybe they had kicked those thoughts for good! That through sheer willpower and perseverance and proof to the contrary, they might have managed to rework how Virgil approached a challenge. That at one point Virgil might laugh and smile even when he wasn’t in the lead--

And yet, Patton’s sitting with one piece three spaces ahead of Virgil and Virgil is ready to call it quits. The game had just started. Patton had only been sitting in the room for a total of five minutes. Virgil hadn’t talked for more than a couple sentences.

It’s one of those days, except that Patton doesn’t think that it’s ever been this bad before, because usually they at least made it to the one piece around the board in Trouble , through to one check in Chess , through to one hotel being built in Monopoly , or one train ticket completed in Ticket to Ride .

“This is a sign, isn’t it?” Virgil continues. “I’m just being stupid even considering it. Of course I am. I always am. Nevermind, I don’t want to do this today Pat. Thanks for the soup and the cookies and I’m sorry that I made you walk all the way--”

Patton reaches out and snags Virgil’s arm before he can get all the way off the ground. The board nudges to the side dislodging several pieces into the surrounding void, but Patton thinks that he can replace a hundred playing pieces.

He cannot replace his best friend.

Virgil’s skin is cold, even though the room was comfortably warm, and he’s soft to the touch-- which is never what Patton expects when he gets those lightning quick hugs, when Virgil rests his head on his shoulder during movie nights, when they go shopping and there are crowds that make Virgil want to run for the hills and only Patton’s hand in his keeps him grounded there. Virgil is soft despite the jagged persona he puts on to drive away other people, and he hasn’t gotten any sort of touch in a while because he shuts up the moment that Patton’s own warmth floods over him.

The room holds the silence for an eternity: Virgil frozen halfway up from the ground, and Patton latching on to him like he can pluck all the reasons Virgil is upset out of his mind through osmosis. The lava lamp makes him look unreal, makes the silence ring louder, makes the lump in Patton’s throat grow larger.

“Virgil,” Patton says, “please.”

Please tell me what I can do. Please allow me to help. Please let me in.

“It’s stupid,” Virgil says.

Patton wants to laugh, because nothing that ever hurts Virgil has ever been stupid. “I don’t think so, kiddo.”

Virgil bites his lip and inhales with all of his chest.

“You didn’t go to any classes today. You’ve been crying. You’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes.” Patton says. “Something happened. And it can’t possibly be stupid because nothing that affects you like this is can be anything less than something huge.”

Patton feels Virgil’s hand curl into a fist like he can hide his shaking when Patton is right there .

“Do you remember Logan Ackroyd,” Virgil says. “The senior a year older than us who I had Sociology with last year?”

The same Logan who took extra notes for when Virgil missed class and emailed them to him. The same Logan who offered Virgil a granola bar when he overheard that Virgil had missed lunch. The same Logan who helped Virgil break into the auditorium after school hours to search for his missing earbuds.

The same Logan who has eyes more knowledgeable than the entire galaxy, who wears a tie to class, who smells like coffee beans and pen ink and looks like he’d give really good, safe hugs.

The same Logan who Patton has never once met, but feels like he knows intimately thanks to Virgil’s starstruck rambles.

Logan must be something great and amazing. Patton has known that for a year now, from watching the months slip away and suddenly the ghost of Logan joins them on every outing, summoned by the blush over Virgil’s ears and the soft smile on his lips and the way that Virgil steadfastly won’t meet Patton’s eyes like it will prevent Patton from noticing the way that the senior is always on Virgil’s mind. Logan is kind. Logan is smart. Logan has a new book every day. Logan has a voice like the ocean waves.

Logan, Patton thinks, should have been more careful if he caused Virgil this much distress. Because there are things that Patton would do for Virgil that not even a cold blooded killer would consider doing.

“Yeah,” Patton says, with a smile soft and dumb and innocent. “You guys have Analytical Science together this year, right?”

Virgil lets go of his lip, and breathes out a breath that sounds like more relief than Patton is supposed to hear. “Yeah. Yeah. He, uh… yeah.” Virgil shifts back down, shifts so that he’s on his knees and Patton is right next to him, and they’re still touching and that warmth is stronger than the shadows made by the blobs in the lava lamp.

“Janus… Janus asked him out yesterday,” Virgil says, using his other hand to pluck at a thread in his jeans.

Oh. Patton doesn’t think cookies and soup were enough.

And golly, Patton doesn’t think Logan is as smart as Virgil is always saying he is either, because if he said yes in front of Virgil, he must have been the stupidest person on the planet.

Virgil is quiet, dismissible, a shadow in his own skin even on his best days. But he is not un-noticeable.

He carries an aura around himself that storms and thunders and promises danger to those that get too close. His laughter is a threat first and a comfort second. His smile is a knife blade that even Patton sometimes wonders if he might find in his back one day. Virgil was someone that you noticed and you stayed the fudge away from.

Unless you were Patton, who hadn’t been afraid of Death from the moment he watched his mother cough up blood over the cards to CandyLand, watched his mother turn into a real-life game of Operation, watched her breathing get ragged and her fingers struggle to hold playing cards between them.

Logan hadn’t been scared away by Virgil’s thunder, and somehow he had weathered the storm that Virgil put up to protect himself and lived securely in the eye of the hurricane. And somehow he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t cared, had taken advantage of Virgil’s softening heart just to shatter it.

“He didn’t…” Virgil says. “Janus… he didn’t really mean it. I don’t think. It might have been a joke because they’re friends but Logan told everyone that he would only consider dating someone who could… could…”

“Could what?”

Virgil’s eyes flick down to the Trouble game board, to the pieces lost in chaos of the floor, to the box they hadn’t needed except for transport. Patton feels his heart thud in his chest before he crawls up his throat and he tastes it in his mouth along with the remains of the raw cookie dough he licked off the spoon while cleaning up.

Virgil’s words come back to him in whispers. But it’s not like I’m going to win. This is a sign, isn’t it? I’m just being stupid even considering it.

“Someone who could….” Patton says, “beat him in a boardgame?”

Virgil yanks the thread on his jeans sharply and nods without meeting Patton’s eyes. “I told you it was stupid.”

“Virgil,” Patton says. “This is great! We’ve been playing games together for years! You can beat--”

“That’s the thing!” Virgil says with his shoulders curling up to his ears and burying him in layers of excess fabric. “Pat, I can’t even beat you in a board game and I know all your strategies!”

“I don’t think that Trouble actually has any strategies. It’s really luck of the roll--”

Virgil peeks out of his hood enough to give Patton a miserable glare. “When was the last time I won against you, Pat? Be honest.”

Patton purses his lips. “I don’t think that’s fair, kiddo. I’ve been playing games since I was able to understand the rules--”

“You don’t even remember, do you.”

“It was Dominos and you won by twenty points.”

“Nice try, but you purposely miscounted and you actually won by two.” Virgil reaches out for another cookie and offers it to Patton without making any move to pull his other hand from Patton’s hold.

“You would have a lot more wins if you didn’t insist on not finishing games sometimes!” Patton says. “You never know the ending of a game until you play it out!”

“I could tell you that Logan was going to beat Janus in Chess the moment the opening moves were made,” Virgil counters. “He won in twelve moves and then the next game in six.”

Patton opens his mouth, but Virgil shoves the cookie in before he can actually say anything.

“And God Rest Remy’s soul because Logan obliterated him in Trivia Pursuit.” Virgil continues, “He turned Roman to mincemeat over Scrabble, and not only beat Remus in Poker, but won one hundred dollars off him too. I also watched him win in Othello against some kid he tutored in Calc, a game of Mancala with an art kid who was doing it for clout, and Stratego which he won before I finished reading the fuuuuuudging rules and made his opponent cry over it.”

Patton swallows down a bite of cookie that he didn’t not chew well enough because he feels it tear up his esophagus as it goes. Virgil politely ignores him dying for a second and offers him his own thermos of soup to help it down, before remembering that he’s supposed to be brooding and staring at Patton for too long makes him soft.

“Not to make a pun here, but no dice; I legitimately cannot beat Logan,” Virgil says. “He’s just… so good. At everything. What is the point in humiliating myself with this? Even if I find a game so obscure that he’s never heard of it and doesn’t have a strategy built for it, just going up to him and putting the board between us is like-- that’s telling him that I’ve had this massive stupid crush on him for ages and what if he doesn’t even like me? What if I win and then he has to date me because he said so but he actually hates me? What if--”

Patton coughs so hard he thinks he might have dislodged his own lung, which is fine!! Because at least it got Virgil to snap back to him and table his panicky spiral for later.

“Weren’t you,” Patton croaks, “Weren’t you already going to confess to him? You bought the chocolate kisses and you sent me pictures of them in your bag right before class last week.”

Patton can’t see Virgil’s ears because of his hood but he knows that they’re glowing red from the way that Virgil can’t meet his eyes again.

“I just….I did but then he….” Virgil nudges a pile of questionably clean band t-shirts with his socked foot. “He said he wasn’t interested because class was starting and I still don’t know if he meant an actual kiss or a Hershey kiss because he had to leave class early to pick up his kid brother from his middle school because he was sick with a fever and then I was too mortified to bring it back up-- See Pat, I can’t even come up with a creative way to tell Logan that I wanna listen to him ramble about jellyfish immortality and play with his hair or tell him that I wanna know what the flavor of his chapstick is-- which, by the way, I did say to him and he told me was cake batter and that I could find it at the corner drugstore because he thought I was looking for recommendations-- There is no way to subtly tell him that I want to date him.”

“Then maybe… don’t be subtle?” Patton suggests, and then points at the game between them. “Boardgame?”

Virgil scowls at the game like it had personally offended him. “But I can’t beat him. And if I lose and by some miracle he still wants to be seen with me, then he’d be breaking the very rules he set up and everyone else who lost is going to be pissed at both of us and I can’t do that to Logan.”

Patton bites back the then don’t lose that he wants to say. It seems so obvious to him. He doesn’t really see why Virgil doesn’t think he can win one single game. There isn’t even a rule that says Virgil can’t come back and play again-- which isn’t that the point of games? That you can play them for a little while, pack them up, and then come back to them later? That you sit down with friends-maybe-more and you play and have fun ?

Not for the first time, and not for the last time, Patton wonders why Virgil ever played games with him at all. He knows the first time was pity because he found Patton sitting on the floor of his bedroom with Trouble on the ground in front of him and staring at it numbly because he had cried all the tears out of himself already at the hospital, at the funeral, at the everything that had come after that he couldn’t remember. The first time it had been to get Patton to react because he had been so lost, but every time after that Virgil had made the conscious decision to pick up the pieces.

Even if sometimes he had put them back down halfway through and Patton hadn’t figured out how to convince him that the point isn’t to win as much as it is to have fun.

Virgil twists his wrist loosely in Patton’s grip so that he’s holding Patton back, his cold fingers somehow feeling comforting rather than startling. Patton has always loved that about him, although he’s never sure how that works. The coolness of his touch is familiar, but the vulnerability of Virgil reaching out is something newer, something special, something fragile and Virgil holds onto him like he’s expecting Patton to let go at any moment and Patton steadfastly refuses to let him drift off. Patton squeezes his wrist gently, lightly, softly.

I’m here. I’m not leaving. We’re in this together.

“I think that Logan can make decisions for himself,” Patton says with words so featherlight they barely move the air. “Remember the dominos? Any player can choose to lose, whether it be miscounting or it be refusing to finish the game in the end. But if you never even offer to play with him… Logan can’t make that choice, Virgil.”

Virgil holds his gaze for a moment, two, three, and there’s something in his eyes that shies away from the glow of the light, something slippery and weak and scared. Something that Patton is afraid to put a name to, lest it disappear from him forever.

Something that causes Virgil to squeeze his wrist back.

Together. Us. We’ve got this.

“So what game do you want to play with Logan?” Patton asks. “We can go look at my collection if you want? I loaned out Backgammon to a girl in my Shakespearean class, but other than that I have the usuals with me.”

Virgil takes a deep breath. “Can we…” He says. “Do it tomorrow? I don’t want…” He squeezes Patton’s wrist again and Patton can fill in the rest of the blanks with his own interpretations. He is, after all, fluent in Virgilese, as much as Virgil is fluent in Pattonish.

“Yeah, yeah,” Patton says and shifts through the piles of clothes that act as cushions so he’s right next to Virgil, pressing their shoulders together, leaning his head on Virgil’s collarbone, and reaching around him for another cookie. Virgil moves the tub between them and then pulls the Trouble game board in front of that.

He hesitates for another moment-- they’re missing two of Patton’s blue pieces to the floor, and one of Virgil’s purples to a pile of sweatshirts-- but the fact that Virgil drops forward and presses the bubble to roll the die makes Patton’s chest warm.

He gets a six, and then a four and that thing in his eyes seems to grow just a bit stronger.

That is, of course, when the rap music from next door starts up loud enough to shake the entire room and Patton wonders if Logan would still be up for playing a game with Virgil when he’s incarcerated for second degree murder.

Patton, at least, gets a hug out of it, when he tackles Virgil to the ground before he can get to the door, and he manages to coax Virgil back to their area, back to the floor, back to the game, and then later into the blanket-fort-and-movie-night that they watch with one earbud each and their foreheads pressed together late into the night.

***

Patton’s mother developed lung cancer when he was seven. He remembers it in vague flashes: the blood, the shakiness, her fall to the floor because they had never had any sign of it happening until it was too late to do much about it. He was told it was because his maternal grandparents both smoked a lot when she was growing up and she spent the weekends helping them around the house still.

The doctors said she had a year. She got eighteen months.

He barely remembers her face from his own memories anymore, all of them blurred and twisted by the passage of time that he almost got swept away in entirely. Her picture still hangs around the house, though, and he guesses he’s lucky in that regard. He liked how he could see her every time he passed by the stairs, even after his dad remarried and he had grown up and the telemarketers stopped calling the house to tell her that there was an interesting charge on the credit card she didn’t have anymore.

He still wakes up sometimes with his heart beating in his ears and his eyes blinded with tears and his lungs refusing to cooperate because of nightmares about forgetting her entirely, of seeing her stand up to call out to his dad, of seeing her cough out blood and then fall to the floor right in front of him as his dad is running down the stairs. He still wakes up and feels his heart aching where she might have once been if everything had gone just a little bit different. He still wakes up and wishes that he could go back to sleep because at least in his dreams she’s still there waiting with a deck of cards and a smile that says, “Alright, Buster, don’t think I’m going to go easy on you this time!”

Usually those types of days he labels as “Bad Ones”, and he finds it harder to crawl from under his blankets to do pretty much anything.

Virgil knows immediately when he sees Patton staring at his black laptop screen that it’s a Bad One.

Patton loves that he knows not to ask, hates that Virgil can read him so easily, wants to cry because it’s been so long and shouldn’t the edges of that pain have gone away by now? He wants to pull Virgil’s purple comforter back over them and drift back off into the blissful warmth while pretending that the idea of a game right now didn’t make his hands shake.

She hadn’t left Patton specifically a lot of things, but the things that she had left him had been boardgames. Things that she had collected over the years and kept on a shelf in the study for them to play after work and school: Candyland, Trouble, Snakes and Ladders. She had a whole shelf for him when he got to an age where he could understand more complex concepts: Ticket to Ride, Pandemic, Mysterium, Star Realms, Settlers of Catan.

After she was gone… Patton had stared at that shelf and wondered if she had ever thought that maybe she wouldn’t get a chance to play some of them with him.

He wonders how many of them he could have beat her at, how many of them she might let him win in, how many of them they would love to play together and how many of them they would both play through once and then wrinkle their noses at because it wasn’t what they thought it was going to be.

He wonders and maybe it’s a bit too much because he’s stomach is rolling nauseously and he thinks that if he has to look at a game he’ll actually throw up this time.

Virgil doesn’t say anything, even as he gets up and Patton remains buried under too many blankets and the alarm on his phone goes off again for his morning class. The darkness is safe and warm and Patton thinks he understands why Virgil likes it so much as he closes his eyes and tries not to think of a woman who is long gone and in the ground.

“Breakfast?” Virgil whispers at some point.

“Cookies,” Patton mumbles back.

Virgil had carted a hand through his curls and then the door to the room had opened closed and locked behind him. Patton thinks that was nice of him-- to lock the door like he was protecting anyone from coming in and stealing his valuables even though Patton was there. Or maybe since Patton was there? Patton presses his head into a pillow that smells vaguely like chocolate cherries and black licorice and other things that screamed Virgil, and thinks that Virgil might consider Patton a valuable that needs to be protected and kept safe.

Sometime later Patton wakes up with Virgil lying beside him, headphones on and typing on his computer with one hand while dragging fingers through Patton’s curls with the other. It’s impressive of him by itself, but not nearly as impressive as the fact that Virgil’s hood is down and the blackout curtains are parted enough to bring in a decent amount of light.

Virgil blinks at him and removes one earmuff. “I read that flowers need sunlight to grow,” he says in lieu of explaining the rays of light cascading into the room over the two of them.

Patton wants to laugh, and thinks he might if it were any other day and not this one. He settles for a somewhat bent smile and Virgil reaches to somewhere he can’t see and brings back a muffin from the Campus Cafe.

“Chocolate Chip,” he says. “Which is like a cookie, but better because it’s a muffin and I said so.”

Patton can’t really tell if the tears that prick in his eyes are from the lingering sadness or the softness of just a simple gesture from his best friend. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s neither.

It’s a muffin, not something he should be crying over, and he repeats it even as he takes a bite from the top and Virgil pretends like he doesn’t see Patton scrubbing his cheeks as he chews. It’s a muffin, but Virgil got it just for him and Virgil came right back here and sat with him so he wouldn’t wake up alone and sad and and and--

And if Patton liked anyone romantically like that(™) he thinks he would have fallen straight into love with Virgil.

“Did you miss class?” Patton whispers.

Virgil shrugs. “Nothing important. I sent an email to my teachers saying that I wasn’t feeling too good and didn’t want to risk accidentally spreading anything to anyone, which already helps because I didn’t go to class yesterday and I’ve already turned in all my work for the week for most of my classes. Besides, you were here and I didn’t want to just leave you all alone-- what if Roman started playing his Disney compilations at 160 decibels again?”

“You like Disney, though.”

“I also like my hearing and my best friend,” Virgil says like it’s nothing, like it’s obvious, like it shouldn’t be making Patton tear up again because Virgil is just so nice.

“I’m sorry,” Patton whispers.

Virgil moves his computer and jostles around on the bed until they’re lying side-by-side even though the bed was definitely not made for two persons. He presses his head to Patton’s, and he’s cool and soft and safe.

Together. We got this.

“Your mom?” He asks.

Patton nods, with a lump in his throat that makes all the words he wants to say crumble to ashes on his tongue. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Pat,” Virgil says.

“But… Logan…”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Virgil says. “And, full offense, but no boy is going to be more important to me than you regardless of how fuuuuuuunkily hot he is. Funkily, yeah, sure, that’s a word that I definitely was going to say right there.”

Patton feels the laugh build up in his chest, against all the odds in the world, and it tastes like chocolate when it rolls out of his mouth.

Virgil bumps his shoulder, and grins. “Look, I’m trying here. Cursing is in my nature!”

“Thank you,” Patton says. For everything.

“No prob, Bob,” Virgil says. I would do it all all over again and never change a thing.

“I’m not Bob! I’m Pat!”

Virgil’s laugh is like the sun breaking through the clouds after a rainstorm, like a rainbow cascading through the sky, like being caught after a fall. Patton gets the energy to smile back when he hears it and that alone nearly makes him want to cry again.

Patton twists the blanket under him between his fingers and takes a deep breath. “Did you…” He says before pausing to swallow back the taste of his own stomach acids he’s not sure is entirely imaginary. “Did you pick a game? For Logan?”

Virgil’s nose twitches, which means the answer is a sound no. “It’s not that important right now. You’re not feeling up to--”

“ Vir -gil,” Patton says and Virgil’s nose twitches again.

They share a look for another minute, two, three, before Virgil exhales and looks away.

“Fine, fine,” he says. “I didn’t pick out a game yet. I actually saw him in the Cafe earlier with Janus and he waved, though, which was awesome until I waved back and forgot to look where I was going and walked straight into a glass door. At this point it’s going to be a miracle if Logan doesn’t laugh in my face when I ask him to play anything with me.”

“He won’t laugh at you,” Patton says and Virgil slides his arms up and crosses them so he can bury his chin in them like he doesn’t believe Patton at all. “From what you’ve told me, Logan is really nice isn’t he? And the other day didn’t you say that he went on a rant about Pluto being a planet? I think that’s just as silly as you walking into a door.”

Virgil hums to show he’s listening, even if he isn’t taking the words to heart as much as letting them filter through his ears. Patton licks the last of the chocolate muffin from his fingertips and blinks away the urge to hide away from the rest of the world when he spies the box for Trouble on the ground next to Virgil’s desk trash can.

Virgil follows his gaze to the box and he purses his lips, although Patton isn’t sure if its from the fact that he’s remembering that neither of them won last night, or if he’s thinking about odds of beating Logan again or if he, too, is thinking about ghostly fingers trying so hard to move playing pieces that they can no longer touch.

Patton rolls over and stares at Virgil’s ceiling instead, counting his breaths until he feels like the static between his ears isn’t going to overwhelm him.

“What game do you want to play?” Patton asks.

“I won’t win.”

“I didn’t ask what game you wanted to win,” Patton points out. “What game do you want to play against Logan?”

Virgil is quiet, but he sighs so heavily that Patton can see his bangs flutter out of the corner of his eyes.

“This is going to sound stupid,” Virgil says, and again Patton remembers that nothing Virgil ever says has ever once been stupid. “But I don’t want to play against him at all.”

Patton frowns, rolling his head to the side to take in Virgil’s gaze that is already looking at him. His dark eyes are there and the something in them that Patton doesn’t want to put a name to is there again, shining just like the rays of light between Virgil’s blinds.

“I mean I want to play a game with Logan, just not against Logan. It’s stupid, okay? I was just thinking about the cooperative games back at your house that we used to play with your dad and step mom-- you know like the Unlock , Escape-room-in-a-box games? Or maybe Flashpoint? Or Forbidden Island? I was just thinking how shit I am at making my own decisions in Pandemic and Logan is really good at strategy so I bet that working together we’d be able to beat any game.”

Patton breathes deeply, sharply, and tries to ignore the piercing pain in his chest at the mention of the games. Virgil winces like he wants to take the words right back out of the air and hide them somewhere where neither of them have to face them at all.

“I don’t…” Virgil says, “I don’t want to play against him and lose. I’d rather play with him and win. Again: it’s stupid.”

Patton closes his eyes, and sees the shelf his mom left him full of boardgames she picked out long before he was past chewing on building blocks, of him at eleven years old finally getting the courage to drag a kitchen chair to the case and pick out a game while Virgil stood by to make sure he didn’t fall and to remind him that it was okay if he didn’t didn’t feel strong enough to try, of the two of them sitting at the kitchen table with the game directions between them that don’t really make any sense because it there’s no directions on how to attack each other when his dad comes home early and freezes at the sight

He might not remember his mother’s face outside of photographs he doesn’t remember being taken, but he remembers clearly the softness of his father’s expression when he dropped into the seat next to them and asked if they knew how to play this one yet.

“It’s a cooperative game,” his dad said, with a voice shaking and eyes wet. “That means we all work together to get to the goal at the end. Each player is going to have a different superpower-ability-thing that they can do that will make it easier for us to win as a team.”

So no, Patton doesn’t think that it’s stupid at all. It’s hard to do things by themselves, it’s scary, it’s difficult, it’s frustrating. That’s why when Virgil is texting him that the world is ending because of a boy, Patton will always show up at his dorm with soup and cookies and a game for them to play together instead of telling him that he’s being dramatic and silly. That’s why when Patton is missing a woman who hasn’t been in his life for twelve years now, Virgil will always stay with him to remind him that he’s going to get through it, instead of telling him to suck it up.

It’s much easier to win when they’re on the same side.

And Virgil has only ever had fun when playing games that he wins, hasn’t he?

“Why don’t you?” Patton asks suddenly.

Virgil must have nodded off because he jerks suddenly when Patton speaks up, “huh?”

“Why don’t you play a cooperative game?” Patton asks. “What did Logan say specifically about the whole dating thing?”

Virgil rubs an eye and squints at him tiredly. “I told you, he said he would only date someone who beats him at a game. I don’t--”

“Did he say beats him, or beats the game with him?”

“Neither?” Virgil says. “He literally said to Janus very loudly, “I will only consider someone a viable romantic partner if they can win in a game with me.””

“In a game with me,” Patton repeats. “ In a game with me. Not in a game against me!”

It takes Virgil a long, breathless moment to comprehend it, but it’s clear the moment it hits him. Virgil jerks so hard that he tumbles off the bed entirely and to the ground in a fumbling of long limbs, blankets, dubiously cleaned clothes, and his computer-headphones combo. Patton yelps and leans over to check on him but Virgil doesn’t even look like he noticed.

“Holy Shit,” He says, “holy shit, Pat.”

“Language.”

“ HOLY SHIT!” Virgil yells, and then he laughs and covers his mouth like he’s trying to bottle up the sound. “Patton! Patton! He didn’t say against!”

Virgil’s eyes sparkle, the light through the window makes his dark hair shine and just looking at him Patton thinks he’s never once seen him so happy before, so delighted, so excited.

So full of hope.

The next thing he knows is that he’s sitting up and Virgil is wrapped around him in a hug so tight, so soft, so cool and wonderful that those pesky tears come right back to his eyes. Virgil hugs like he’s unafraid of anything for just this endless moment, like he’s never been unsure of physical touch before, like he’s done it a million times before and Patton shouldn’t feel his breath catch in his lungs lest he shatter this dream with an exhale.

He’s standing at the eye of the storm that is Virgil, and he’s never felt so safe before in his life.

“Thank you,” Virgil whispers, “I, uh, I’m sorry for the sudden hug--”

And then, of course, Remus’s music comes back with a vengeance that rattles the ceiling tiles overhead and makes Virgil hiss and break the hug. Patton thinks that he could forgive it, if it weren’t for the unmistakable sound Disney’s Mulan soundtrack also ringing in the air, like it was trying to be heard over the rap music. Dust sprinkles from the tiles overhead.

“I’m going to kill them both,” Virgil vows, but Patton is quicker. He lunges forward before he even knows what he’s doing and coils around Virgil as tightly as he can, and just hugs him, his best friend, the guy who’s always been there for him, and who deserved all the happiness that he could get.

“Pat?” Virgil says.

“If Logan doesn’t treat you right I’m going to make sure no one finds his body,” Patton says.

And Virgil’s laughter makes it sound like he doesn’t quite believe Patton, but that’s okay. Virgil is still looking for reasons to play a game if not to win, and Patton is still trying to find a game that makes him smile, and together they’re going to figure out how to get Virgil to win with Logan.

But for now the hug is good, and the company is nice, and they have the game Trouble packed away ready for the next time they want to play.

#sanders sides #board gaming #platonic moxiety #Analogical #Logan is the hottest side confirmed #Because everyone wants to date him #(Except Pat)#Me the author: what the fuck is hurt comfort #tw: cancer #I just like board games okay #maybe a little too much #I kNew YoU WeRe TrOuBlE WhEn YoU wAlKeD IN #virgil is a disaster gay #Patton really awesome #Hugs? Hugs.

78 notes · View notes

reformedkingsmanagent · 5 years

Note

Hi, I really love your writing and was wondering if you could write a tss fic about Charlie where the reader finds him after his arm was blown off, and she saves his life? Thank you

A/N: I really hope this is acceptable! I rewrote a huge chunk of this multiple times. This feels better than what I had, but who knows.

The room was a kaleidoscope of colored lights, leftover from Valentine’s failed gala. With no one left alive to turn them off, they kept spinning, doing their best to disguise the violence. The room, littered with headless corpses, was currently being picked over, all evidence collected.

“Valentine is dead,” someone announced through the comms.

“Yeah, pretty sure everyone else is too.”

As you walked through the piles of headless corpses, you came across the only other body besides Valentine’s that still had a head so far.

“I’ve located his associate. She didn’t go out like the others, we might want to bring her in too.” You spotted the patchy green wound at her forearm and assumed it was from some sort of toxin, but from where, you had no clue. Who would have been the assailant? Surely not Valentine himself?

“Understood.”

The whole scene was bizarre, like something out of a pulp film with the amount of carnage all around. Keeping these boots after was out of the question. The amount of matter probably in the treads… You’d never get it all out, not mentally, anyway.

As you reached the top of the stairs on the far side of the room, you swore you saw movement in one of the booths.

“Hang on, I’m gonna check these alcoves up here,” you commented, keeping your voice low.

“One of the holding cells is empty, the rest are still here, and they’re angry, too. Seanan says they heard gunfire a little bit ago.”

“We just missed them.”

“What are you thinking? Rogue element? Some of Valentine’s people deciding to blow the chips? A guest?”

You allowed the conversation to continue without you as you slowly walked along the railing, watching for any signs of life.

You could see legs, long legs, sticking out of the booth, as if the person had tried to hide there but couldn’t quite fit. You wondered if you were simply mistaken, but you needed to be absolutely sure. As you got close enough to make out a shape, it moved again and you paused, reaching for the weapon at your hip.

A hand appeared on the edge of the table, clinging to it in a desperate attempt to pull the rest of him up, the face coming into view wearing an expression of great pain, and great effort. Any notion that this individual posed a threat was pushed aside as he nearly fell out of the booth.

“Whoa, whoa, hang on.” You moved forward quickly, managing to steady him. He was incredibly pale, and you wondered if he’d even last the trip outside. The source of all his problems was at his right side, the arm hanging uselessly from the shoulder down. There was some damage to the skin just behind his right ear, but he still had his head.

“We need to get you out of here,” you muttered, not expecting anything close to a response from him given his current state.

“My…” You wanted to tell him to stop talking, to save his energy, but if this was it, any information would be useful information. “…family…” He tried to reach out for the sea of bodies below and you realized with a chill what he meant. With his family among the many dead, he had to be important. You couldn’t leave this to someone else.

“I need Evac up here, now. We have a survivor who might be able to tell us what the hell happened in here. I’m going to stay with him.” You didn’t leave it up for debate. You’d do what you could to make sure he got the help he needed.

***

He was heavily sedated, wrapped up in plain sheets, his torn, bloodied clothes discarded. He was less pale, considering he’d been gifted a couple extra bags of O neg. They set to work as soon as you helped wheel him in. The whole way over to the compound, he kept quiet, alarmingly quiet. You checked his pulse multiple times. At least now he looked alive.

And handsome, too, now that someone had taken the time to wipe the blood and mess from his face, combed through his hair. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d charmed his way into Valentine’s inner circle, coasting into what he thought was safety on his looks alone. He was younger than most of the bodies recovered, though what he said still haunted you.

His family.

“My guys are working on the best new tech for him, so he can divulge all his little secrets,” Poppy smiled, sidling up beside you as you watched him sleep it all off.

“He mentioned his family, do you know if they were among the dead?”

Poppy joined you in studying his facial structure, the rise and fall of his chest.

“Not sure. They’re still working through it. He’s our only lead.” She turned to you, still keeping a hand on the railing of the hospital bed. “We have to find out who stopped Valentine, or those same individuals might destroy all my plans. The kind of ability they must possess to do what they did… I can’t leave that to chance.”

“What if he doesn’t know anything?”

“Maybe I’ll keep him around anyway. Someone in his position might be…grateful.”

You were surprised at how cold her words felt. As you watched him sleep, you started to realize how protective you’d become of him.

“You can go rest now, you’ve earned it,” Poppy suggested, turning to leave.

“Oh, I’m alright.”

She was going to question you, but someone quickly pulled her aside for another matter.

The steady hum of the monitors and machines all assembled to keep him going served as a pretty good white noise machine. You moved to the door and gently pushed it shut before pulling up a chair and taking a seat beside the bed.

***

“How are you liking it?” You asked, stepping into the open gym. The heat was so uncomfortable, you didn’t know how he could stand it. Still, there he stood, sweat dripping down his face, training on his own.

The metal arm at his side was held up, guarding against an invisible enemy. That was just one of a few gifts from Poppy. Questionable plan aside, no one could deny that her tech was leaps and bounds ahead of everyone else’s.

When Charlie found the pain in his throat mitigated, when he discovered he could speak far normally than he was hoping, you’d watched him do his best to hide his reaction. Since that moment, Charlie had made it his mission to get back to perfect health. You tried to stay back, he didn’t need you around anymore, but sometimes you just couldn’t help yourself.

But this, this was different. Maybe he wouldn’t care at all, but… you’d be lying if you weren’t interested in seeing his reaction.

“It’s…serviceable,” he breathed, plain grey shirt pulled up to wipe the sweat off his face. You quickly averted your eyes, wondering if this was intentional from him. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Good…” you trailed off, realizing he was walking over. You looked up to gauge his expression and wished you hadn’t. Heat filled your cheeks, seemingly getting worse the closer he got until he stopped right in front of you. You could smell the sweat on his skin, and it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. You forced yourself to look away, doing your best to keep your eyes off his sharp cheekbones and full lips—

“What’s that look for?”

Oh no. “What look?”

“You’re worried about something.” He took a step closer, eyes pouring over your face, looking for any little micro-expression that might give you away. He was incredibly good at reading people, and naturally that extended to you. You’d spent the most time with him out of everyone, after all.

“What does Poppy have you doing next?” he finally asked.

“She mentioned needing to build an outpost in Italy, a stockpile of sorts. With her staying here, I’m assuming she wants me to go.”

“You can’t leave,” he started to argue.

“You don’t need me here, look at you.”

It was true. He knew it too. He looked about as conflicted as you felt.

“You’ve really improved, Charlie. It’s actually kind of amazing how quickly you adapted.”

He smiled slightly then, taking another step closer.

“I’m not used to people saying such nice things to me.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, thinking back on prior conversations with Charlie about his life before that day in Valentine’s bunker.

“Don’t be. Things have turned out okay for me here, and it’s all down to you.” You felt him looking at you. “I owe you a lot.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” you assured him.

He didn’t contest that, but you could tell he wanted to.

“Do you remember when you found me?”

“I do,” you nodded, your heart rate picking up as he maintained eye contact. You were sick with nerves but you couldn’t look away.

“I was a coward.”

“Not a coward, just scared.”

“A coward,” he insisted. “But you didn’t abandon me. Every time I woke up, you were there, either just outside the door or sitting in the room, going over reports and spreadsheets.”

“It was my job, Charlie.”

No it wasn’t.

“Don’t give me that.” He rolled his eyes, though he maintained a slight smile.

“I needed to make sure your recovery was going smoothly.”

“And that’s the only reason?” He watched you, waiting for your answer. You knew anything other than a ‘yes’ would indicate guilt. If you looked away, he’d know.

You felt a heavy weight settling on your shoulders. You couldn’t confess something like this, not now, not like this, and certainly not to him. Not that there would ever be a ‘right time’ for it.

He looked away first.

“Because if there was a different reason, I was thinking we could… talk about it.”

“I don’t think that would be a good—”

“Why would you waste your time with me like that?” he asked. This started to feel a bit more like an interrogation.

“Why do you say it’s a waste?” you answered, sidestepping his ask.

“I had—have nothing to offer you. But you’re here anyway.”

You frowned up at him. “Charlie, you’ve got plenty to offer someone.”

“Someone like you?”

You looked away to your left, the direct attention getting to you. “That’s not what I’m saying,” you sighed.

“What if that’s what I’m saying?”

There’s no way, he wouldn’t really, for all you know he’s about to pull a ‘gotcha’ and leave you there, embarrassed and confused—

Seeing that he wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of you, he took matters into his own hands, leaning down to press his lips to yours. After a second of hesitation from you, you finally felt something in you slip out of the way as your mouth opened under his, your hands making fists in his thin grey shirt.

“You’re very easy to read, you know,” he whispered, nose rubbing against yours as he pulled you in closer, the metal fingers spread out across your lower back. “Poppy said something to me yesterday.”

You leaned back so you could see his face.

He looked peaceful.

“She asked me about my time with Kingsman. Why I didn’t last. So I told her.”

You remembered a similar conversation with him, shortly after his voice-box had been replaced. Your eyes moved down to it.

“And I realized in talking with her just how different things are now. I… You’ve helped me more than you know.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat at his confession, remembering how angry he used to be all the time. Full of resentment, misplaced vitriol, always going out of his way to bother everyone around him during his recovery. You blamed boredom, the tragic loss of his family, trying to give him the benefit of a doubt.

But it had never been directed at you.

“I care about you.” You felt his hands move to your cheeks, the metal on one side, his flesh on the other. “And I can tell you care about me too, it’s obvious.”

The teasing tone returned to his voice and you turned your head to try to hide the heat in your cheeks. It was easy enough for him to steer you back into place.

“You do, don’t you?”

You realized you’d never heard him vulnerable like this since the day you found him. Everything since had been stone-faced and quiet, not betraying whatever pain he might be dealing with.

“I thought you said I was easy to read?”

“Maybe I just want to be absolutely sure?”

Instead of giving him an answer, you pulled him back in, your lips finding his easily enough. You tried to translate the past few months of quiet pining for him into the kiss. When he didn’t let up, you figured you were successful.

********

Tagging those who requested it! @shydragonrider @alliedoolallie

#charlie hesketh #charlie hesketh x reader #writing #kingsman #hope you like this

27 notes · View notes

snicketstrange · 5 years

Text

The Great Hiatus Theory and Miss K Enigma

Part 5 is completely dedicated to explaining the Duchess of Winippeg's letter to Lemony, according to the Strange Interpretation of Jean Lucio from Brazil.

To understand this text, it is necessary to read my previous texts.

The letter is found in Chapter 2 of the UA. Right after the letter, there is a personal note from Lemony. In this personal note, Lemony states that there are two possibilities: Either the letter is not from the true R, or the letter is from the true R, and she is trying to pass him a secret message indicating that she is in danger. Before beginning to explain my interpretation, I would like to highlight the importance of Lemony's doubt. Even the letter bearing the calligraphy of R, Lemony believes that it is possible that this letter comes from an impostor. Why is there such a doubt? Because in the universe of ASOUE, calligraphy and signatures do not prove who the real author of the letters is. Trained people can imitate other people's handwriting and their signatures. This concept is important to my interpretation of The Beatrice Letters, and I will explain it in another text, of course.

Let's start with the beginning of the letter.

"My Dear Mr. Snicket,

Thank you, you are alive and relatively well! The night, when I arrived at the Orion Observatory to give my annual lecture to the Metrological Society, I saw someone breaking into a navy blue Jeep parked in the southwest corner of the parking lot, and my heart leaped: perhaps there was a chance you were still alive. I did not expect to find out until the man handed me his letter. "

Please note that R, or the imposter, claims to have seen someone breaking into a navy blue Jeep parked in the southwest corner of the parking lot, and just by noticing this, R or the imposter deduced that Lemony might be alive. This means that “R” spent some time having serious doubts whether Lemony was alive or dead. There are small untruths in describing the scene. These untruths are highlighted by Lemony in his personal notes. Lemony wrote:

"The Jeep outside the Orion Observatory was of course not navy blue but black, and parked in the northwest corner, not the southwest."

Another detail not denied by Lemony is that Lemony actually wrote a letter to R. On what kind of paper did this letter from Lemony to R written? The letter says:

"I can not, however, help you answer the question YOU WROTE ME ON THAT GUM WRAPPER."

Another important detail is where local R was when she saw the car. She says she was at Orion Observatory.

Why is this significant?

Because this entire scenario seems to perfectly describe the arrival of the manuscript of Book 4 (TMM) in the hands of Lemony's editor. Please read the letter to the editor printed at the end of the TWW book.

“To My Kind Editor,

I am writing to you from the Paltryville Town Hall, where I have convinced myself the most to allow me to enter the eye-shaped office of Dr. Orwell in order to further investigate what happened to the Baudelaire orphans while they were living in the area. Next Friday, a black jeep will be in the northwest corner of the parking lot of the Orion Observatory. Break into it. In the glove compartment, you should find my description of this frightening chapter in the Baudelaires' lives, entitled THE MISERABLE MILL, as well as some information on hypnosis, a surgical mask, and sixty-eight sticks of gum. I have also included the blueprint of the pincher machine, which I believe Mr. Helquist will find useful for his illustrations.

Remember, you are my last hope that the Baudelaire orphans can finally be told the general public.

With all due respect,

Lemony Snicket "

I seriously believe that “R” saw the arrival of the manuscript from book 4. I know there are many theories that try to explain that all these details are coincidences, and that there were other similar deliveries at the Orion Observatory. But I do not believe in these theories. From my point of view, the reference to GUM WRAPPER makes this delivery unique. In my theory, R saw the arrival of the original TMM book. And that is significant, because Lemony spent years without publishing any book, and so many believed that he really was dead, as published in Daily Punctilio. Note the 'R' wrote:

“You took a terrible chance in contacting me, but I am glad you did. I am so sorry that I was unable to prevent, or least delay, your CAPTURE at my masked ball that evening, and I have been worried sick ALL THESE YEARS THAT YOU WERE DEAD, despite rumors of your activities spreading through the network of loyal members. There are not many of us left, Mr. Snicket, but we are ready to help you in any way we can.

That masked ball was the LAST PUBLIC EVENT the members of the organization dared attend together… O Mr. Snicket, everything you kept in my home is gone. Your BULLFIGHTING COSTUME IS GONE… Everything in that guest room is gone, and all the things in the guest room next door. BEATRICE, OF COURSE, IS FAR PAST COMPLAINING ABOUT LOST POSSESSIONS – THE VERY REASON, I AM CERTAIN, THAT YOU HAVE DEDICATED YOUR LIFE RESEARCHING THE LIVES OF THOSE THREE POOR CHILDREN.”

Please watch out for these details. First, when this letter was written, Lemony had already begun his research on the Baudelaire siblings. "R" says: "THAT YOU HAVE DEDICATED YOUR LIFE RESEARCHING THE LIVES OF THOSE THREE POOR CHILDREN".Second, "R" says that Lemony spent years presumably dead. She says: "I have been worried sick ALL THESE YEARS THAT YOU WERE DEAD". As I explained in the last text, there were two moments in Lemony's life in which he was presumably dead. The first moment was soon after the cancellation of his marriage to Beatrice. The second moment was after the publication of some of the ASOUE books. This letter can not refer to the first moment when Lemony was presumably dead, for at that time Lemony had not begun researching "the lives of the three poor children" because the "three poor children" did not even exist.

Another important detail is to realize that Lemony was not publishing books during the time he was presumably dead. If he was publishing books during this time, anyone would realize that he was actually alive. It is good to remember that his books are aimed at the Great Public in his universe.

That's why I created the theory I call The Great Hiatus Theory. The theory states that there was a Great Publishing Hiatus in the universe of ASOUE that lasted many years. This hiatus occurred between books 3 and 4 of ASOUE. Note that this theory is independent of the fact that the actual author of the letter being considered to be R or an impostor. The evidence I have raised so far has not been questioned by Lemony in his personal notes. Lemony did not write something like "I believe this letter may come from an impostor because the sender of the letter states that I spent several years presumably dead and this is not true, I only spent a few months dead."Lemony also does not say something like "I believe this letter comes from an imposter because I have no idea which three poor children the sender of this letter is referring to." The Great Hiatus Theory works even if the real sender of the letter is someone else.

I'll pause to speak directly about the letter of "R". I will explain the consequences of the Great Hiatus theory. You will realize how the Great Hiatus Theory perfectly explains some apparent inconsistencies in the ASOUE text.

One of the apparent contradictions I have already explained in an earlier text. Prufrock Pre closed during the Great Hiatus. According to UA, in Chapter 9, an enemy of Lemony sought information about the reptiles from Uncle Monty's collection in the book TRR. This book was in the library of Prufrock Pre, at that time Prufrock Pre was open and running. However, in writing the TAA book, Lemony says Prufrock Pre was closed many years ago. This is perfectly explained by The Great Hiatus Theory. When Lemony returned to write the books of ASOUE from TMM after resurfacing from abroad, Prufrock Pre had already stopped working.

The Great Hiatus theory also helps to solve what I call "Miss K Enigma.

In Nero's letter to Carmelita Spats' parents, which is printed in Chapter 8 of the UA, Nero states that he hired Miss K to become a teacher. At that time Mr. Remora had retired. Mrs. Bass was still at her job, but she had to take time off in order to settle matters with the bank (probably rob the bank). Miss K took Prufrock several books of interest to VFD, including one of the ASOUE books. The enigma is: Who is Miss K? The first time I read it, I evidently thought it was Kit Snicket. But reading TPP I realized that this would be impossible. In the situation described in TPP, Mr. Remora still worked for Nero, for he calls him chief (TPP cap.6). Thus, Nero's letter was written after the events described in TPP. Kit died a few days later, nothing indicates that she was in Prufrock Pre between the events of TPP and TE. And as I have already explained, the ASOUE books seem to have been written a few years after the events described therein. With the help of The Great Hiatus Theory, the puzzle is solved as follows: Lemony wrote books 1, 2 and 3 and stopped publishing for a while. In the meantime, someone passing through Kit was in Prufrock Pre. (Or another volunteer, who also had the letter K as her initial). This person took one of the first three books from ASOUE to Prufrock Pre. I'd rather believe that this Miss K is actually Beatrice pretending to be Kit, because that also fits my theory of the secret letter in the TSS.

Lemony made a sentimental remark on Miss K.'s photo. He writes "Will I ever see her again?" Since this is not Kit, then I think it's Beatrice. (The fact that Miss K is wearing a completed skirt in the photo, and that her feet are not exposed in the photo, are elements of another theory of mine ... UA pictures are really fun to try to understand their meaning. For example, in Chapter 1 of the UA there is a photo of Lemony when he was baby that it hides the Lemony's left heel , exactly where I believe there was already a tattoo.) According to TAA Chapter 6, Prufrock Pre actually closed when Mrs. Bass was definitely arrested, some long after Miss K had visited the place. Lemony speaks of this event in the past because from his point of view in writing TAA, this event was really in the past. But in writing TRR, this event was still in the future from Lemony's point of view.

Update of Miss K Enigma theory:

The R Letter Interpretation is just beginning. I'll leave the rest to the next text.

#asoue spoilers #asoue chronology #asoue theories #asoue #olaf #count olaf #a serie of unfortunate events chronology #a serie of unfortunate events icons #a series of unfortunate quotes #a series of unfortunate events #the beatrice letters #beatrice is alive #beatrice snicket #beatrice baudelaire #lemony snicket #klaus baudaliare #sunny baudelaire #violet baudelaire #sugar bowl

10 notes · View notes

humanwithherpes-blog · 6 years

Text

Herpes Whoredom

January 6th, 2018.

Candidness is key.

I had sex in the university’s science lab. Actually, the place where they genetically engineer goats to excrete spider silk. Like, these little guys produce milk that has copious amounts of one of the strongest, most indestructible materials made by nature. So I guess you can say I’m intricately woven into the larger scientific community.

Back to the sex. I was having sex in the science lab. Exciting as it sounds, I actually realized I had left my tampon in after a couple of minutes. Extracting it wasn’t too difficult, but it left me extremely sore.

The following day, I continued feeling a burning itch down there, which was unsurprising, and I assumed I had gotten a UTI, or yeaster infection, or at the worst, maybe even TSS (which I actually know nothing about), but the pain got more intense as the weekend went on, and I noticed a couple of bumps in my genital region. I remember lying in the bathtub with Epsom salt, and my roommate came into the bathroom to pee. I even had her take a look, and she commented that it might just be bacterial vaginosis, something she had gotten a while back. “Yeah, that’s kinda what it looks like. Just go to urgent care and they’ll give you antibiotics. You should be fine. It’s probably because of the whole tampon sex thing.”

“Thank you, wise roommate! I indeed shall go to the doctor first thing in the morning.”

January 8th, 2018.

The nurse led me to the examination room, and I declined to sit in the chair; instead, I squatted on the floor because that was the only position in which I felt semi-comfortable. She took my pulse and got my weight and asked me the normal questions, and I told her about the Tampon Sex and how I had self-diagnosed with Bacterial Vaginosis.

She was honestly kind of bitchy. She was making this kind of sour expression on her face the whole time and rolled her eyes at me when I was telling her that I was in pain.

Maybe she was having a bad day, or just like, has RBF, but she rubbed me the wrong way, and when the male doctor had me put my feet in the stirrups so he could peer into my aching vagina, she stood in the corner, with the stupid pinched look on her stupid bitchy face, all I could think was Does this bitch have to be in here right now, and the doctor, right away, in a low voice, said, “Hmm, yeah, that looks like it’s herpes.”

He wouldn’t make eye contact with me, and that stupid nurse stared at me with her nose wrinkled up and did a little eyebrow lift before she left the room.

I wanted to punch her.

And then I was like, okay, so what now? And he was like, “’kay, here are some meds, good luck, and bye!”

The Next 10 Days

were the worst of my life.

This was the first week of the semester. I tried going to class one day, but I had to walk so slowly and gingerly that I got there 30 minutes late, and then I had to pee, and I ended up just crying in pain on the bathroom floor until a friend could come pick me up.

What started out as little bumps turned into fiery little sores and even open lesions that extended all the way into my cervix and around my urethra. Yeah, the acid in my piss burned the hell out of me every time I had to pee. Eventually, I figured out this routine where every time I would go, I would get on all fours in the bath tub and kind of splash water on myself when the pee would come out to relieve some of the pain faster, screaming in pain the whole time, and then I would rinse out the bathtub and just lie in there for like half an hour.

I didn’t want to drink fluids because I didn’t want to pee. I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t leave the house, I couldn’t sit down. Everything was painful.

And I was like, holy shit holy shit, no one is every going to want to have sex with me again. I’m a modern-day leper. I have this nasty little virus inhabiting my body and it will never go away. It’s invaded me. Like, it thinks that it can just use me as its home and hurt me and just basically fuck up my life.

Most of my friends were supportive. My mom sounded shocked and appalled, but she was really nice, and my best friends brought me over soup and candy and books almost every day. I did have one friend, however, when I disclosed to him about my STI, that looked me in the eye and told me, “I will never see you the same.”

I contacted the men I’d been with in the last six months, encouraging them to get tested. Many ran into the same problem: the clinics were unwilling or reluctant to test them since they had no symptoms. (Even though 85% of HSV-positive individuals DON’T HAVE SYMPTOMS.) And can herpes be spread asymptomatically? YES IT CAN. I got my herpes from a person with no symptoms.

Stuck at home, with nothing else to do, I did a lot of research. I have to give a shout-out to Ella Dawson, whose herpes blog provided a lifeboat to my mental and emotional health.

I dedicated my time to several online support groups, and I educated myself on everything there is to know about HSV2.

And then life went back to “normal”

The Valtrex eventually did its thing and the pain of the herpes went away, but I was left to deal with the negative social stigma that accompanies it as I dove back into the dating world.

There was this Tinder dude who was trying to have sexy talk with me, and this is how the conversation turned:

Okay dude, you don’t want herpes but A. who even said that we were going to have sex and B. don’t be an asshole.

And while we are talking about douchebags, here is another unrelated, non-herpes conversation I had with a tinder dude:

Jesus, like I DON’T WANT TO SEND YOU NUDES AND IF I DO I WILL BUT BE HAPPY WITH WHAT YOU GET.

Sidenote: I have met many lovely, kind, respectful gentlemen on tinder and bumble.

I started seeing this guy, we’ll call him Marty, for a couple of weeks, and he seemed to handle the herpes thing pretty well. In fact, it didn’t bother him at all. We were going to have sex, but I could tell he was uncomfortable. He started acting weird, and finally admitted that he was afraid of contracting HSV2 through my blood. If he couldn’t handle it, that’s fine, but I can’t handle being around someone who can’t handle it, so I told him goodbye.

Yes, I faced the cold sting of rejection, as certain men decided I wasn’t worth their time, which is fine, because ultimately, those type of people aren’t worth my time either. I’m honestly a very fit, sexy, funny, intelligent, kind, successful 25-year old woman and anyone that can’t see past my herpes can go bury their head deeper in the sand where it belongs.

I came to some realizations:

1. I can’t break the stigma if I stigmatize myself. As an HSV2-positive female, I have 3 choices: add to the shaming of herpes by putting myself down, hide from the shaming of herpes by keeping it a secret, or fight the shaming by telling people my story. In sex ed they show you gross, scary pictures of genital infections, but where was the part about those parts belonging to a human being whose identity is bigger than an STD? What about her likes and dislikes, her community of people she loves, and in return loves her? What about her career, what she does to pay her bills, her vices, her habits, her passions?

We aren’t just looking at an STD, we are looking at part of a multi-faceted individual.

I am an individual. I love coconut water and I hate Chili’s southwestern eggrolls. I like karaoke and game night, and I like sitting in the sun while I draw or read a book. I’m a waitress, a student, a transcriber, a musician, an artist, a lover, a sister, a friend.

I am HSV2-positive, but it does not change my value.

2. The bad reputation society has given herpes comes down to sex shaming.

Though it is a popular Christian belief that sex should be saved for the sanctity of marriage, or used only for reproductive purposes, it is not a consequence or punishment of “promiscuity.” Having herpes does not make one gross or undesirable. Any individual with one, none, or multiple partners, does not “deserve” to get an STD. Sex is a part of life, therefore, STD’s are a part of life, and it is nothing to snub or look down upon.

3. STD-screening and Sex Education needs some serious reform, folks.

You are not a “dirty, used shoe that has been worn by the entire football team” if you’ve had sex. That was the video I was shown in my sex-ed class, and it made me feel like shit about myself for a long time.

Maybe instead of pushing for abstinence, we can be realistic and talk about safety and condoms and create an UNDERSTANDING of sex, rather than FEAR.

If you don’t have symptoms, get tested. If they refuse, get tested somewhere else.

Don’t let your doctor be a dick-wad. I went to get a Valtrex refill the other week, and he told me, “If you got herpes at the beginning of the year, and you’re already sexually active again, maybe you should reconsider how much sex you’re having.”

Maybe you should reconsider your right to comment on my sex life, mister. I reported him. Don’t let them say shit like that. It’s not okay.

But you know what is okay? Having herpes!

I have herpes, and it’s actually pretty okay.

(me rn, typing this in the library)

7 notes · View notes

petri808 · 7 years

Text

Change of Ascendancy

Nalu Love Fest Bonus day 10/27/17 Piercing prompt

My final entry for this week. Thank you for reading my stories, it was a blast writing them! Please enjoy : ) To read this story or more of my works, find me on AO3 http://archiveofourown.org/users/Petri808/works

The 24-year-old blonde sets up her guest room, getting ready for her Saturday night client. This evening will be the man’s twelfth session, but who was counting? She plops down on a chair and looks at the clock, 8:20pm, he’ll be there at 9 she smiles to herself. After working in this industry for a couple of years now, this was the first time she’s looked forward to a particular client’s visits. Sure, there had been a handful of bad seeds, men who tried to push things past the rules set in the club but nothing she or the bouncers couldn’t handle. Most of the guests were just average patrons, if you will, looking for something different, a little more exciting than the typical partner was comfortable dishing out.

But she was no typical girl. Realizing in her teen years that while she didn’t always need to be in charge, the most satisfying bedroom games for her seemed to stem from controlling the situation, unfortunately, she also quickly learned that most guys prefer it the other way around. So, her sex life ended up being few and far between. That is until she came of age and learned about the world of the dominatrix, where she could get her kicks and even better, get paid to do it. Well, not that she’d call herself a true dominatrix, she didn’t just dish out pain like they are commonly known for, no she’d use either physical or mental tricks and tools to drive these men wild. Of course, the key to this endeavor was always maintaining self-control, and never getting personally attached.

But this guy tonight, he started out as one of her typical clientele, probably had a high demand, intense or stressful job that required a lot of concentration or control, and to unwind from such an environment, sought out the very opposite world of being dominated. And, three months ago, he had walked in for the first time, an obvious newcomer that she had to school in the do’s and don’ts of this avant-garde style. The first thing being their safe words or nicknames, hers was always “Star” and he had chosen “Dragon”, she later learned he had a small fascination with the mythical beasts, primarily the fire breathing types. If for any reason something was too uncomfortable they could simply call out the other person’s name and the action would cease.

She had no idea what he really looked like because she required them to wear head masks to conceal their identity, but what she could discern was that he had a sweet personality, a very nice body, not to mention a ‘package’ any girl might kill for and the most gorgeous green eyes she’d ever seen. He seemed close in age to her and always treated her with the utmost respect, never rude or demeaning, simply a very pleasant demeanor. She couldn’t help looking forward to his now standing Saturday appointments. In fact, lately she’s been skirting the rules of the club, absolutely no penetration but… while her job ordinarily doesn’t include any touching with their hands or other body parts, and mostly physical punishments with tools, with him she couldn’t seem to help herself…

Natsu walks up to her door as he usually does, knocking first before entering. She signals that it’s safe by buzzing him in from a second room where she waits. He follows the now well-known routine of putting on the mask she has laid out for him and stripping down to his boxers before knocking on the second room’s door to let her know he was ready. Lucy’s policy is the client can wear anything else they choose to bring with them, but the mask is mandatory; he just chooses to be in only his boxers since he’s too embarrassed to bring anything more, wild. As she enters the room, she sees a huge grin on the man’s face just light up. “Well hello…. Dragon…”

By the time he left his apartment that night, he was practically giddy over getting to see her. Saturday had become his secret pleasure and he spent most of the week simply rushing through it just to get there. He didn’t know what it was about this woman that had struck his soul, but she just seemed to know exactly what would drive him utterly mad with passion. So often he found himself dreaming that his once a week trysts could become a more permanent situation but alas, it was probably a fantasy held by many of her clients. Who wouldn’t fall in love with a woman who could not only pander to your deepest desires but looked the part of a fashion model and still underneath the exterior facade you could sense the sweetness in her spirit; a total oxymoron of a doe eyed, sweet smiling, tongue pierced; if that’s all she’s marked with, whip wielding goddess.

The sheer luck in finding her was thanks in part to a co-worker who recommended checking out the local Fairytail Club to help him unwind from their stressful job as firefighters. His friend regularly visited a blue-haired woman that catered to his odd fascination with water and ice, that maybe developed because it was the very opposite element of what they deal with daily. At first, he was hesitant, thinking that it was just an S&M club and he had no interest in being whipped and frankly assaulted; he dealt with enough pain from his day job. So, he was thrilled to learn this club was different from the typical ‘sex’ clubs in that they focused on pandering to whatever the client required; within reason of course. And this woman was adept at satisfying his desires without getting too rough.

For the last three weeks, the sessions have taken a turn for the better, at least in his mind they have. He knows that it might be hugging the line when it comes to not just the policies of the club, but even the original rules set forth by the woman of how much physical interaction was allowed. The thing is, she was the one initiating these ‘changes’ and hell if he was going to stop her. Last week he found out how soft her lips could be…

“Good evening Star…” his ear to ear grin giving away his excitement. ‘Holy Fuck!’ Up till now, the woman’s outfits were black leather strapped or strapless bustier or corsets, tight mini-skirts with black fishnet stockings or leggings, sometimes studded or chained or otherwise adorned, with knee high stiletto boots; but always, always black in color. Not tonight, no tonight she’s changed it up on him donning a scarlet red, strapless leather corset, a loose, black leather skirt that was so short, her firm little dairy-air peeked out from the bottom edge, and the end of her stunning stems, 5-inch high stiletto’s that really accentuated her calves.

Lucy sashays up to the young man tapping her riding crop on her thigh and smiling. His eyes following each swish of her hips with the hunger of a starving man, so much so, that he forgets himself and reaches out to grab them. Poking his chest, “Tsk, Tsk…” she wiggles her finger and raps the back of one of his hands with the tool. “You’re being naughty tonight and bad boys require punishment… Now get on the bed and cuff one of your hands to it!”

“Y-yes ma’am…” As soon as he turns to walk towards the bed, Lucy strikes his ass with the crop. “Tss…” he winces slightly from the sting but continues to climb onto the bed and cuff his left hand.

“Oh, stop your simpering, I barely hit you.” she scolds while pushing him down onto his back. After securing both ankles, she crawls over and straddles his hips, another new move on her part, while she leans forward to strap a collar and chain around his neck. His breathing almost stops for a second when her ample breasts push down against his chest. “But, I think I’ll be nice tonight and leave your right hand free… just in case.” She pulls on the end of his leash, “Now what shall our game be today…”

~~xx~~

The following Wednesday, Lucy readies herself in the mirror, last minute primping before her date arrives. They had met online through a blog about her favorite anime about a month ago and tonight was their forth date. It was a little uncanny how well they seemed to get along, it was almost as if they had been old friends that simply found each other again. This firefighter was such a gentleman with her but very serious and well she wouldn’t call it controlling, just cautious. She figured it had to do with his job, always having to be on alert and frankly she didn’t mind playing the damsel in distress sometimes.

She hears the knock on her door and opens it. “Hi Natsu.”

He holds out his hand to her, smiling. “Hey Lucy, you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” she adjusts the strap of her purse and takes the offer.

“You look great tonight, Luce.” He beams at the gorgeous blonde on his arm, still in awe that he managed to land such a babe.

She bushes mildly as his twinkling green eyes pulls her into its spell, “You look very handsome yourself Natsu.”

Dinner was a simple affair for the budding couple as they laugh and converse about their week, the anime that brought them together, or just anything that pops into their thoughts. Afterwards they decide to get some drinks at a quiet little lounge, settling nicely into one of the intimately tucked, corner booths. After a couple of hours and a few rounds of drinks in them, things are starting to grow steamier than either had expected. Normally, Lucy waited until a couple of months to go any further than a good night kiss but there was just something about this guy that made the blonde wanna throw out the rule book and alcohol was making that decision much, much easier…

It didn’t take long before her dominating side revealed itself as she climbed half on his lap and his hand was riding high on her thigh in a full blown make out session. As his digits travel further under her skirt she slaps his hand gently, “Behave Natsu, there’s plenty of time for that later…” Her soft yet firm instructions evoke a spark of covetousness only his Saturday master has been able to pull out of him in recent months and he shudders at the idea that he’s found another perfect girl…

“Yes, Princess…” he whispers back, cognizant of the fact they are in a public place.

She grins while trailing her lips along his jawline, “I like that. Will you be good for your Princess and do as she asks?”

“Uh-huh…”

Lucy giggles at the idea she’s found the perfect guy for her. “That’s good, and if you behave… this Princess will reward you…” And to accentuate that notion she runs her hand against the developing bulge of his pants. “Now,” she moves his hand back to her ass, “you may hold but nothing more until I tell you. Nod if you understand.” He does.

Doing a quick scan around the room to note there is no one nearby, the blonde untucks his shirt from his slacks and runs her hands under them, feeling around at the rock-hard muscles that flex beneath her gliding fingers, she traces lines and follows towards the cut of his pecs. Natsu’s eyes roll back as she leans in to capture his mouth with her own and moans quietly at the delicious flavors hitting his taste buds. When she pinches his hardening nipples that groan deepens. “Shh…” she scolds him and bites his lip.

“S-sorry, Princess.”

“Do you want me to stop? Is this too much for you out in the open like this?”

“No…” his voice breathy and full of lust. “I’ll try to be quiet.”

“Good…” nibbling his ear lobe, “Cause I find this very arousing. Do you like it when I’m more excited?”

“Oh, yeah…”

Reaching into his pants she takes ahold of his throbbing member. He bites down hard on his lip, gritting his teeth and tilting his head back as she strokes it with a gentle and steady rhythm. “Such a big boy Natsu…” purring like silk in his ear, her whispers only meant for his listening pleasure, “I can just imagine him spreading me wide,” she moans, “sliding in and out of my pussy dripping with our sweet nectars… so deep in my cave…” his cock trembles in her hand, “…hitting harder… and harder…” he squeezes her ass as those images flood his brain too… “and your hands… I want them groping every inch of my body. I wanna tremble in your arms from all the wonton decadence of your touch upon my skin…” feeling precum leaking over her fingers, she moans against his neck, “can you imagine it… the pressure building until you finally release all that pent-up essence…” Groaning, “Mmm…” she licks along the edge of his ear, “would you like that Natsu?”

“Oh, Fuck yes!” his breathing is ragged. “But please,” begging, “Princess… if you keep going, I’m gonna cum right here!”

Lucy stops stroking and removes her hand, “We wouldn’t want that yet. Shall we continue at my apartment?”

“Yes. Please Princess.”

“Very well.” Stroking his cheek, “You’ve been a good boy and I think you deserve your reward.”

They walk the few blocks back to her apartment. Along the way, Natsu is still in shock at what just happened. She turned him into putty in such a short period of time! “Lucy, c-could I ask you something?”

“Sure Natsu.”

“How did you do that? I mean, how did you figure out my triggers so quickly?”

She shrugs her shoulder, “Maybe because I observe and learn people’s personalities to help me in my writing.” Of course, she wasn’t gonna tell him the truth about her weekend job, the idea of a sex club worker might scare him away and with their relationship going so well there was no way she wanted to risk that.

“Hmm, well you’re definitely… really, really good at it.”

Squeezing his hand, “Thanks, I appreciate that. Not too many guys like, you know, letting the girl control things.”

Grinning, “I’d let you control me anytime…”

The second they reach the sanctity of her third-floor apartment, Lucy pins Natsu against the wall rubbing her thigh against his groin and caressing his cheek. “Be a good boy for me and wait on the couch…” she nibbles his ear, “I’m gonna change in the bedroom to something more comfortable…”

“Mmmm…” he groans, “Anything for you Princess.”

She taps his cheek and sashays out the room leaving the man to wonder what was gonna happen next. As he sits fidgeting on her couch he looks around the apartment noting that it looks like a typical female’s abode though more on the trendier side. Black leather sofa and love seat with an oval shaped glass coffee table and flat screen tv hooked to what seems to be a karaoke machine. The room was separated from an average sized kitchen by an island with three high backed bar chairs, and there appeared to be an adjacent dining area that had been converted into more of an office space. On a glass, L shaped desk was a pink laptop, printer and a couple of books sitting on it. Next to the desk was a bookshelf containing several volumes and what appeared to be reams of papers, maybe her manuscripts, he wonders.

A distinct sound of an opening door causes him to turn around in his seat. Standing in the dimly lit frame is what he can only describe as that woman you’ll see in the pinup mags but will never actually meet in person. He gulps at the sight of the black lace of her negligee, all the curves of her buxom figure easily seen through the sheer material, including the fact there was nothing beneath it. Perky nipples poke through the fabric taunting his mouth, he starts to drool, his eyes zero in on something shiny near her midsection and widen as it drifts lower at the smooth skin of her sex, devoid of any hair… ‘Damn’ She looks so virginal yet he knows, you can’t judge this book by its cover. But something else creeps in to his mind, this woman’s profile looks a lot like someone else he knows, it couldn’t be… In this city of over 100,000 residents, what was the likelihood or luck of running into her on the outside?

Dangling a pair of handcuffs, she beckons with her finger and he follows her commands like a love-sick puppy as she leads him deeper into the chamber and points at the bed. “Strip and get on big boy.” Once he removes all his clothing she takes them and piles it on a chair but grabbing his scarf to use in her games. Prompting him all the way to the head board, she cuffs his wrists and attaches it to a short tether and swivel ring he hadn’t noticed earlier in the headboard above his head.

Splayed out in all his glory, Lucy can’t help but fawn over the sight of such a picture-perfect male specimen, though somewhere in the back of her mind swears she’s seen this image before but she tucks the information away. Knowing that he’s a firefighter means he must stay in peak physical condition but still, this guy obviously pays attention to his appearance. Well-developed but not overly bulky anywhere, his toned and solid muscle structures are simply beautiful to look at. She licks her lips, “Mmmm, Natsu, I must say you are just too fucking good looking…” Climbing over the prone man, Lucy takes his own scarf and blindfolds him. “Can you see anything?”

“Uhhh.” His voice strains and shudders as she grazes her lips over his ear. “No, Princess.” She pulls the negligee off and settles over his hard cock, his moan communicating volumes from the skin to skin contact; and this is just the beginning of her torture. He bites down hard on his lip as he resists the urge to buck his hips, intuition tells him to stay still or this woman is gonna punish him for it.

Resuming her handiwork, Lucy leans over, purposely pushing her breasts against his chest while she teases his ears and neck with oral treatments. Soft velvety kisses intermingled with rougher, more firmly placed pressure; sucking or biting, with pulses of her wet muscle against his skin. She licks at a scar on his neck, the texture of her tongue over the sensitive skin elicits more trembling moans out of the man. “How’d you get this scar Natsu…” she breathes out the words between her kisses.

“Huh?” a little dazed from her spell. “I um, got it from a fight with my best friend…”

“Fighting with your best friend…” still teasing around his scar, “Such a naughty man you are… Over what?”

“Dumb reason… To see who was stronger…”

“Oh…” she moves her lip caresses to his chest, “So who won?”

When her caresses turn to bites on his nipples he loses his train of thought for a second. “Um… Fuck…” moaning, “…he did.”

She bites his nipple a little harder, “My big, strong fireman lost? That deserves punishment…”

“But it, I was only 10…” he groans from her nips that have moved to other areas of his chest.

“I see…” she purrs and scrapes her nails along his sides and scoots lower over his legs. “What about this one?” pulsing her tongue over a scar on his abdomen.

“Saving a woman when she was being mugged.”

“Aww, now that deserves a reward…”

“Rew… oh fuck!” he cries out as something wet glides over his throbbing cock. The little metal ball he senses running over his shaft is a new sensation he’s never experienced before. He doesn’t quite understand what to make of the licentious piece of jewelry until it catches on some loose folds and creates a new twist of resistance and friction. “Wow… that’s… different…” Sinking her mouth over the large appendage, Natsu moans and can barely control his bodies reaction of twisting under her control. He jerks at the cuffs holding him at bay, gritting his teeth with each palpitating stroke of her tongue. “Luce…” Bucking his hips when she swirls around the head and massages the shaft with her lips.

The blonde stops her efforts and digs her nails into his thigh hard, “Remember, you said you’d be a good boy for me…”

He winces from the pain, “S-sorry Princess…”

“Sorry isn’t good enough… You need to make it up to me.”

“H-how?” Already images of being punished or whipped or something along those lines pop in his mind. He feels her shifting on the bed, depressions in the mattress getting closer as if someone is crawling along its edge. “Lucy?” A deeper sinking on the left and right sides of his head. “What are you…” and then he smells it above him.

Kneeling over his face and using the headboard as grips, she balances her moist entrance right over his mouth, “Taste me…” she commands.

“Yes, ma’am…” Natsu dives in with every inch of his tongue into her opening, consuming her folds and massaging her labia with his lips. It’s frustrating not being able to see what he’d doing or use his hands but damn if her nectar wasn’t the sweetest fruit he’s ever tasted before! Lucy’s nails dig into the wood and toes curl as his fondling intensifies, lavishing her sex with the most amorous and sensual caresses any man has performed on her. She tries desperately to stay in the roll of the dominant position, but that resolve is crumbling, and moans leach out of her uncontrollably. Knowing the affect, he is having on her, he can’t help but grin as he goes in for the kill, sucking the bud of her rose.

Her legs tremble and knees buckle, “Damn it!” she cries out from the voracity and pressure he creates against her sex. Unable to support her weight, she crashes against his face and his tongue slips inside her once more, flicking and plunging against her frenulum, “No!” she wants to stop him, but her body refuses to move an inch as the throes of an orgasm hit, spilling her juices all over his face. Natsu continues his fornications, riding her wave for as long as she’ll allow, which surprising to him, was several minutes. He had been sure that at some point Lucy would pull away to stay in control but that never happened. The blonde finally flops over, still twitching from such an intense session, skin vibrating from the slightest touch. When his arm grazes her side the muscles in her abdomen contract and tense up. “Don’t touch me…” she utters.

“Sorry Princess.” Still licking up what he can around his mouth and lips. “Is that what you wanted? I hope it was pleasing to you.” She can hear the grin in his tone.

“It wasn’t exactly part of my plan… that you’d be so fucking good at that.” It was amazing, no doubt about it, but it also irritated her that she lost her way. Now the blonde must figure out how to take back control… or should she? Sure, it was her preference to have ascendancy in bed but maybe with him, and direction, as he was so willing to take from her, she could let him have some leeway…

Pulling the scarf from over his eyes, she sees the burning need staring back from them. “Is everything okay, Princess?”

She reaches up and unlocks the cuffs, freeing his wrists. “I’ve decided, your job isn’t over yet.” He looks at her cautiously. “I want you to fuck me Natsu. I want you to pleasure my body and make me quiver under your touch.” Lying on her back with a pillow under her arched waist. “Now get on top of me!”

‘Is she for real?’ The surprised young man hesitates before positioning himself over her length. “B-but I thought you’d be…”

“I am, now will you follow my instructions? Or shall I go back to punishing you in other ways?”

“No. I’ll do whatever you ask of me Princess.”

Lucy wraps her legs around his hips and squeezes, “Then get on with it big boy…” Natsu pushes in slow and steady through her magnificently tight canal, moaning all the way until he is seated as far he can go. She hums in delight at his girth already savoring the ride she’s about to be given.

He leans in, hovering over breasts, lips sweeping over her nipples, “May I?”

“You may…” she purrs

“Mmmm…” Natsu can’t help but whimper at finally being able to suckle the mountainous peaks this woman possesses. Droning vibrations against her soft pliant breasts keep her cooing, and the unhurried rocking of his hips timed perfectly soothe her aching core at least for now. His hands begin to wander, brushing along her sides, even playing with the Leo zodiac symbol dangling from her taunt belly; he’s relishing in the slight groans they bring forth from the blonde. With no idea how long, he’ll be allowed to play on his own terms, he simply focuses on giving her as much pleasure as he can because ultimately satisfying Lucy is what he yearns to do.

Bringing one of her legs up, he rests it over his shoulder to open her up even more. “You feel amazing Princess…” kissing a trail from her bosoms to her neck, sucking and caressing along the ridge of her collar bone, his teeth lightly scraping the bone making the blonde tremble. He nibbles at her bottom lip asking for and receiving entry into another warm and moist orifice. “Yummy…” he sighs in her mouth as his tongue dances with hers and she sucks on the textured appendage adding to the plethora of flavors for his buds tantalized amusement. Her tongue ring is another matter. Curious, he swirls his around the barbell noting the coolness of the metal even in the hot environment it lives in and jolts a bit when it clacks against his teeth the first time.

She chuckles at his explorations, as it is amusing but goads him into moving on by simply squeezing the inner muscles around his dick to break his attention. While lacing her fingers through his hair and dragging her nails across his scalp, she runs her tongue over his canines, then bites at his top lip, pulling it between her teeth and letting it grate over the sensitive inner lining before releasing it. Just that little move elicits a shudder from the man and provokes a response. She wants to push him to go harder but without saying so, instead using moves that will produce the same results.

Gripping her hip to hold it still, Natsu escalates his thrusts to a medium pace, sliding out along the entire length of the shaft then pushing back in until he can go no further, lifting just a tad at the end. Her rumbling coos of contentment echo through his brain, firing off instructions at him to just take off at a sprint, but he wants to relish in this heated exchange not end it quickly. The fire burning in his loins are already threatening his work enough. But then again, it’s all about what her desires are… “Ugh… Princess… May I… go harder?”

She pulls his face down and nibbles sharply on his bottom lip and rolls her hips into his next thrust; he got the response loud and clear; permission granted.

Sitting back on his haunches and using that amazing upper body strength possessed by many a firefighter, Natsu lifts her by her torso and places her directly in his lap, impaling her core. With his hands holding her rear securely. Lucy is taken aback at the ease of this effortless move, at how he lifted her up like she weighed nothing at all! Her eyes widen at the realization that she was about to lose any domination she once held over this man. Should she call an end to this before he can go any further or should she just give in?

Noticing the rattled expression in her face, “Did I take it too far Princess? Do you want me to stop?”

“N-no, I was just surprised at how strong you are.”

He can’t help the grin rising to the surface from her compliment. “We train to lift a 200lb man and still carry them down several flights of stairs; you are a pleasure to pick up compared to that. Shall I continue…”

“MmmHmm…” she rumbles, biting her lip in anticipation and gripping to his shoulders for dear life. Staring at the flexing musculature of his arms as he boosts her up, it is a powerful reminder of what’s to come as he spears her against his shaft repeating the motion over and over, slamming so deeply into her, she can feel the reverberations against her organs; she cries out with each jab to her core. Her eyes slam shut, and nails dig deep into his flesh, threatening to draw blood at any moment as her shrieks increase in pitch and duration. Never, has this blonde been ravaged in such a way to leave her utterly speechless, but not just wordless, no, aching. She’d always been the one dishing out the pain, not receiving it. Unable to bear the brunt any longer, Lucy cries out for mercy in the only way she’s conditioned to do it in. “Dragon!” But as soon as the word dies on her lips, panic sets in and her eyes glue shut.

In an instant, Natsu halts his actions and almost drops her. “Did you just say Dragon?!”

Cringing at what just came out of her mouth. ‘What if he thinks I was fantasizing about another guy?! Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that! Shit! Shit! Shit!’ She peeks with one eye, terrified that what she’ll see is anger, but to her surprise the look on the man’s, now pale face is shock. She opens both eyes. “Natsu, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that…”

“Star?”

Now it’s her turn to be stunned. Stammering, “Are you…. Oh my God…. You are my Saturday client! I-I, don’t know what to…” She scrambles off his lap and huddles against the headboard. “I’ll understand if you wanna leave now…”

“Lucy…”

Covering her face with her hands, the blonde is too embarrassed. She really liked this guy and it was breaking her heart at the thought of him possibly leaving. “I know it could be a little weird to date someone who works in that kind of field… I mean it’s just a side hobby for me but still…”

“Luce,” he crawls over to her and pulls her hands away from her face as tears stream down her cheeks, but her lids stay sealed. “Lucy… Please look at me…” Softening his tone as he wipes the moisture away.

She shakes her head, “I don’t wanna watch when you walk away.”

“But…I’m not going anywhere.”

Opening her eyes in disbelief, “You’re not?”

He cradles her face in his hands, “Why would you think I’d leave just because of that?”

“Because, what I do is not normal.”

His smile softens, “Well then it’s a good thing I had a crush on both you and Star, huh?” Lifting her chin, “How lucky for me they turned out to be the same girl.”

Tears trickle down once more but this time from happiness and a sparkle returns to her eyes. She’d heard so many stories from co-workers how often relationships ended the moment they found out where they worked and while clients developing crushes was nothing new, here was a guy who liked both the fantasy persona ‘Star’ and the real Lucy. “Really?” her eyes search his expressions for any possibility his words were not truly genuine, “I-I could quit that place, it’s not like I need the money.”

“I’ll be honest, I’d prefer not to think about my girlfriend servicing other guys, even though I know the rules you follow;” exhale, “but if it makes you happy, Luce, I wouldn’t make you quit.”

The sincere admission and consternation of his tone pull at her heartstrings. He really was turning into everything she had ever hoped to find some day. She sits up straight and puts her arms around his neck, “But if I have you now, I won’t need to get my fix from anywhere else.”

Grinning when he sees that spark he fell in love with returning, “Well, when you put it like that…” pulling Lucy gently down on her side, he leads her into a new make out session.

“Natsu?”

“Yeah…” murmuring between the kisses.

“Could we go, slower for the rest of the night?”

He stops and smiles down at her, “Whatever your heart desires, my Princess…”

#bonus day #piercing prompt #nalu fanfiction #nalu #lemon

93 notes · View notes

sirivsblvckiii-blog · 6 years

Photo

OUT OF CHARACTER:

– Name: Dani

– Pronouns: She/Her

– Age: 25

– Timezone/Country: EST in the USA

– Triggers: Self-Harm, Suicide, Suicide Ideation, Eating Disorders, Panic Attacks, Domestic Abuse, images of spiders

– Activity Level: Through the holidays it’ll probably be like a 5/10, tbh. I’m working a lot and I’ll have family coming into town at the end of the month for a couple weeks. But once it hits like the middle of January, I’ll probably be a solid 7 or 8/10

– Anything Else?: I LIVE for AU’s. Any and all AU’s. They give me life, and I’ve been wanting to join a really great AU Harry Potter RP. I love building worlds and characters, and I love throwing characters into new situations and seeing how they react. I really love getting into a character’s head and pushing them to their limits, into really dark places. The concept of the First War and the plethora of secrets and mistrust among friends, the never knowing who you can trust, how that changes people and relationships amidst the already paranoia-driven atmosphere of war; nothing gives me more muse than the First War.

DESIRED CHARACTER:

– Desired Character: Sirius Orion Black III

– Why This Character?: OKAY SO, this is going to be long-winded, and I apologize for that! Sirius Black has been one of my favorite literary characters since I was in 3rd grade and first read Prisoner of Azkaban. There was just always something about him, and I don’t even know how to put into words how much I love Sirius Black. I remember the moment I fell in love with him, though, was when I was reading PoA and this man who had just spent the last twelve years wrongly imprisoned for an horrific crime he didn’t commit, and who had just spent the last year on the run with his godson thinking him responsible for betraying James and Lily, offers for Harry to leave the Dursley’s and move in with him. Even after everything he had been through, he was still willing to immediately take in Harry and take his place as his rightful guardian. It breaks my heart that they were never able to be a proper family, but that’s discourse for another time! Sirius was really the first character I ever really roleplayed, and he’s been living and growing in my head for like seven years now, as silly as that sounds. His personality has developed a lot since the early days. I think it’s easy to get sucked into fanon interpretation early on, especially with characters that have a really strong fandom presence. But I’m really proud of the character he’s become, and I think he strays from a lot of typical fanon stereotypes. One of the biggest stereotypes - and one that really bothers - is that Sirius is some kind of Don Juan-Lothario-playboy-heartbreaker-type. “With another shock of excitement, Harry saw Sirius give James the thumbs-up….a girl sitting behind him was eyeing him hopefully, though he didn’t seem to have noticed.” Sirius’ main concern has always been, and will always be, his friends. He cares far more for his Marauders and their pranks than he does for ladies and sleeping around. He’s a flirt, yes, but only because he’s charming and needs to grace everyone with that charm. It’s harmless flirting, and it’s not his fault if anyone takes it as anything other than that. I also love dabbling in the Black side of Sirius. While Sirius is a very good person, I think a lot of that is due to him being sorted in Gryffindor and befriending James Potter. Without his influence, I think Sirius would be a very different person. Not all of that is inherent, but Sirius definitely has a cruel, cunning streak in him (i.e. that time he almost killed Snape). A lot of it is in his nature, and some remains from his upbringing; our early years and development have a huge impact on the people we become. So, I think it’s interesting, especially in the state of the world as it currently is, to play with just what parts of Sirius’ personality become more dominant. Especially in regards to the war’s influence and the harsher actions that are sometimes required, I think it’s a really great opportunity to combine together his ruthless, cunning cruelty and the person the Marauders helped him become to create something totally new.

My Sirius muse is always active and talkative and ready for action, and I love being able to put him out there and develop him further and still learn new things about him even after all this time (reference, yuss!). I’ve always just felt a real connection with him. Maybe it’s because I see parts of myself in him, or maybe it’s because it’s just always been really natural and easy for me to get into his head and way of thinking. He’s always been more than just a character to me.

Ships/Anti-ships: I am complete trash for Sirius/Remus tbh, but Sirius/Chemistry is the most important thing ever. The only thing is that he isn’t always into serious relationships unless he’s good friends with the person first. In my headcanon, he’s never had a real, serious relationship (although every relationship is most certainly a Sirius one, badum-tss!), but he doesn’t feel wanting, necessarily. Relationships aren’t exactly a priority right now when there are bigger things to worry about. // Sirius/No Chemistry, Sirius/Snape

Headcanons: (tw: mania, depression, alcohol, slurs, mentions of dysphoria, mentions of abuse)

&——–Little Lion Man He is named for the Dog Star, the most brilliant star in the sky, visible from anywhere on Earth - an actuality he embraces and carries with him from the moment he is able to understand its meaning. Ancient namings signify he is scorching, sparkling, bringing destruction and rebirth. He is important, and his name informs everyone of such. But he is the point of Canis Major, a hunting dog, ever looking towards his master, Orion. Later, he would think it ironic that he was intended to obediently follow the hunter across the sky. When he was young, though, he did follow his father, his master, with wide eyes and a thirst to learn, to emulate. He did, after all, carry his father’s name as one of his own. He thought it only right that he be his hunter. He learned quickly enough to leave Orion Black be. His name embraces the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black - a reality he despises when he is older. He is taught to believe that to be a Black, to be a Pureblood is to be royalty. He believes it. He spends the majority of his childhood being trained to be the perfect Pureblood heir, to be the perfect Black. He attends many Pureblood-only balls and events, and is taught the proper way to mingle with other Purebloods. He learns manners and etiquette, and he is expected to be a proper child. There are never many other children at the balls, but he is reminded that it is improper to run about and make a fool of oneself like ordinary children; he is, after all, anything but ordinary. How could he be? His name attests to his brilliance. &——–My Manic & I Sirius is living with undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder. It won’t ever be diagnosed or named in-game since they’re living in the 70s (it’s still fairly misunderstood now), but it definitely affects him. I feel like his upswings are pretty intense, and it usually results in him wanting to be out all the time and doing things, and he feels infallible and invincible, and he’s a lot more likely to be reckless (even more so than what is typical for him) and make snap decisions. He definitely has a tendency towards dangerous ideas that he thinks are absolutely brilliant (see: the Prank with Snape). On the other end of it, though, Sirius’ lows are very low, and he self-medicates with alcohol when he’s suffering from the worst of his depression (see: pretty much all of Order of the Phoenix). But I don’t think that Sirius recognizes the depression as such. It’s a lot easier for him to acknowledge when he’s feeling great and on top of the world as opposed to when he’s feeling like shit and struggles with getting out of bed in the morning. He’s a lot more likely to hide that side of himself, too, and play it off with a smirk and light-hearted joke at someone else’s expense. He became an expert at hiding his emotions at a young age, after all.

&——–I Want to Break Free If someone were to ask Sirius his gender and sexuality, though, he would quirk a brow and scoff and let out a bark of laughter because, obviously, he has a cock and he’s not a queer, what sort of daft question is that? But his closest friends know that he enjoys the company of both men and women, although lately he’s sought out men more often than not. Sirius doesn’t remember the exact moment when he realized that he was attracted to men. Maybe it was sometime in his third year, when he had accompanied James to watch the Quidditch team practice. Maybe he had caught himself staring at one of the seventh years - a boy with shaggy brown hair and a strong jaw - as he flew around the Pitch. Maybe he had felt the distinct swoop in his stomach as he had watched, and maybe he had imagined what it would be like to kiss the older boy. But Sirius only really remembers being too afraid to say anything to James, Remus, and Peter, being afraid that it would change everything and they would think him a freak, a faggot they didn’t want to be friends with, anymore. James found out, though, and nothing changed between them, and soon after so did Remus and Peter. It became much easier after that to accept that part of himself. He doesn’t hide that amongst his friends or the Order; although the muggle world is less accepting of his sexuality, he doesn’t pay much attention to anyone who gives him shit. He flips them the bird and continues on his way. What he would never admit to, however, is the many times he has passed frilly shop windows and imagined being able to wear whatever clothes he wants that he sees, or wished he could be as comfortable in his own skin as David Bowie, or Freddie Mercury. Sirius doesn’t always feel exactly right in the body he has, and he doesn’t understand it even a little bit. After all, it’s hard enough to deal with the war; he doesn’t want to even begin to focus on the whole gender bit. The other thing he would never, ever admit to is the feelings he has harbored for Remus since they were realized in roughly fifth year. He remembers it was an ordinary moment; Remus had been working on an essay and nibbling on the end of his quill, and Sirius had been watching him, entirely too distracted, and it had just…hit him. But, of course, he wasn’t deserving of Remus. He would never be deserving of Remus. Sirius wrestled with the feelings for a good year or so, but he has long since accepted them without hope for it ever changing. In modern terminology, he would identify as a gender-fluid demiromantic pansexual, but that’s too fancy and way ahead of his time, so all he knows is that he’s queer - just another way in which he would have disappointed his family. &——–The best thing that has ever happened: “I know that you will make us proud, Sirius.”

No one ever expected Sirius to be a Gryffindor; he certainly hadn’t when he had stepped up to the stool to be sorted his first year at Hogwarts. His entire family had come from Slytherin. He even knew that, somewhere in his lineage, he was related to Salazar Slytherin himself. But as Sirius’ attention had drifted to the far table of green and silver, he had felt a tug in his stomach that he hadn’t really understood. ….“GRYFFINDOR!” He ignored the shouts and jests coming from the Slytherin table to rightfully take his place amongst the lions of Hogwarts. He was joined, thankfully, by James and the redhead he had met with the greasy boy (he was grateful - and always would be - that the greasy one ended up in Slytherin). It wasn’t before he was whisked away to his dorm and he got to know his fellow dormmates: one sickly-looking boy named Remus and a short, ordinary boy named Peter. Sirius thought he could do without Remus and Peter. Who needed them when he had James, his best friend? But Remus and Peter did prove themselves when they turned the greasy boy’s hair a bright shade of pink for a week. That, Sirius decided, was enough to earn his respect. The four of them quickly became inseparable, and Sirius decided that being a Lion was worth the consequent Howlers he received, even if meant returning from the Christmas hols with bruises hidden beneath scratchy sweaters. &——–And the worst: “Blood traitor! Filth! Scum!“ He tried not to cry out as his mother punished him one final time for being an insolent disgrace; he wouldn’t give her the pleasure. He was worse for the wear, however, when she finished with him and sent him off to think about his disobedience. Again. Sirius sat, on the edge of his bed, trembling; it was out of his control. He thought, but it didn’t take long for him to realize what he must do. He needed to leave. He hastily threw what belongings he could into his school trunk, gathering up anything he deemed important. He was able to perform a simple expansion and levitation charm - he decided he could deal with the Ministry later - and led his trunk out of his room. But he knew he needed to stop at his brother’s room before he left. Sirius loved his brother and he has always loved his brother, but Regulus was not like him. He was weak-minded and bent to the wishes of their parents. Sirius always wanted to keep Regulus safe from them, from Mother, but he went to school and was sorted into Gryffindor and it changed. He became the disgrace, and it had been up to Regulus to be the perfect son. Sirius never wanted that for him, and he didn’t want that for him now. So he tried to bring Regulus with him. He wanted to ask, wanted him to leave and escape the hell they had grown up in. But Regulus didn’t leave with him. He wasn’t like Sirius. He was an idiot, and he didn’t leave. So Sirius goes. But not before he watched as his mother blasted his name from the family tree. (Sirius will always regret not making Regulus leave with him.)

Please Provide At Least One:

✓ Humor ——- “Did you like question ten, Moony?”

He is barking laughter and poorly timed jokes, puns upon puns - seriously. A grin as wide as the day is long, carefree and easy. Light in the black of war; white sheep in the Black family. His good humor has covered him and carried him through all that he’s seen. It’s as much a shield for himself as it is those with whom he surrounds himself. ✓ Loyal ——- “Died rather than betray your friends, as we would have done for you!”

He is fierce, heart full for those he holds dear. Not many are kept that close, but there is no hesitation when asked to give his life. Warmth and comfort, in the crook of his smile and the corners of his eyes. Brilliance and steadfast companionship: a dog is man’s best friend. ✓/✕ Strong | Judgemental ——- “Besides, the world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters. We’ve all got both light and dark inside us.”

He is a tree rooted to the earth, tall and proud. Unmoving and firm against the hailing storm. Beliefs, unwavering, unwilling to hear. Opposition is wrong, and he knows it as well as he knows the stories written in the night sky. He is strong-willed and stubborn; a brick wall would be more receptive. He thinks himself open-minded, but it is only another belief. ✕ Impulsive ——- “What is life without a little risk?”

He is snap decisions made in the heat of the moment. Turbulent and emotional, judgement shifts as easily as debris caught in the tide. Words, biting, leaving scars as easily as laughter erases them from his mind. Passing thoughts in an endless stream of chaos - why waste time paying mind to outcomes when you can just act? ✕ Rebellious ——- “There are things worth dying for!”

He is 2 am, leather, and a mess of discarded liquor bottles scattered about the floor. Blood-kissed knuckles and knuckle-kissed jaw. Smirks and sighs toppling from carved lips. Caught in a tempest, winds whipping his hair about his face, unable to see, blindly stumbling along, deafening roars threaten to consume him - one foot in front of the other. Raw magic crackling in the air, electricity against your skin; a beautiful sight when it implodes. Mock Blog & inspiration can be found here

Aesthetics: [x] [x] [x]

Playlist: -Some Nights (Intro) - fun. - Rebel, Rebel - David Bowie - Little Lion Man - Mumford & Sons - Killer Queen - Queen - Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time - Panic! At The Disco - Bad Kids - Black Lips - The World Is Black - Good Charlotte - Sinister Kid - The Black Keys - Green Light - Lorde - Young And Menace - Fall Out Boy - My Shot - The Roots, Busta Rhymes - Death And All His Friends - Coldplay - This Is Gospel - Panic! At The Disco

CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE :

Patronus: It’s commonplace that a Patronus will match a witch or wizard’s Animagus form, if they happen to be such, and Sirius is no exception. His Patronus takes the form of a dog, matching that of his Animagus counterpart: a bear-like German Shepherd. German Shepherds are known for being intelligent, loyal, and fiercely over-protective. Any close friend of his would attest to the fact that Sirius exemplifies those qualities. He is a bright wizard, and he would do anything for those he cares about. Wand: As badly as Sirius sometimes wishes his wand was made from Dogwood (think of the irony! the puns! the beauty of the universe!), he was chosen by a Cypress wood wand with a Dragon Heartstring core, 15 inches, rigid. “Cypress wands are associated with nobility. The great medieval wandmaker, Geraint Ollivander, wrote that he was always honoured to match a cypress wand, for he knew he was meeting a witch or wizard who would die a heroic death. Fortunately, in these less blood-thirsty times, the possessors of cypress wands are rarely called upon to lay down their lives, though doubtless many of them would do so if required. Wands of cypress find their soul mates among the brave, the bold and the self-sacrificing: those who are unafraid to confront the shadows in their own and others’ natures.” Sirius won’t think about the wandlore behind cypress wands and their masters dying a heroic death until the fleeting, infinite moment in which he begins to fall in the Department of Mysteries. He will think it ironic, then, that his death is hardly heroic at all; that, naturally, James and Lily had far more heroic deaths than him. (He will also think about finally, finally reuniting with them again, and he will think of how sorry he is for leaving Remus and Harry behind, but James, here I come.) “As a rule, dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. Dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. While they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner. The dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental.” It is of interest to note that dragon wands tend to be easily swayed towards the Dark Arts. Sirius thinks it should be noted, and then he will tell it to fuck right off, thank you very much. He knows that, had things gone just a little differently, he wouldn’t have had any difficulty using Dark Magic; in fact, he’d have been rather adept at it. Sirius laughs at the notion - and would like to tell the Dark Lord that he can fuck right off, too. Sirius is a very quick learner. He is intelligent and, when he puts his mind to a task, he is able to stay determined and focused. Magic runs strong in his veins, so it’s only natural he be paired with a wand that is able to keep up with him and his raw power. That being said, however, Sirius’ magic is - too often - unpredictable. It has been since he was a child, and he still experiences outbursts of unintentional magic when his emotions get the better of him; the dragon wand nurtures his accidental magic, at times.

#&&.application #&&.biography

1 note · View note

reformedkingsmanagent · 5 years

Text

(YES THIS IS A SUPER LONG POST. I’M SORRY FOR THAT BUT I HAD TO EXPEL EVERYTHING. I PROMISE IT’S A GOOD READ. EVEN IF IT’S JUST TO FIND FAULT IN. I’LL TAKE IT.) (also pretty please send me your thoughts or add to this even if it’s not in support of the bionic boy. I’d really love to hear it all)

Because it’s been a really really really really really long time since I’ve posted any proper discourse on Charlie as a character and I was admittedly inspired by the brilliant round of discussion concerning Vaughn’s grave misuse of Whiskey as a character (which you can find here, please read, these people are grand and most importantly: RIGHT), here’s some rushed thoughts in no particular order.

I’ll admit, when I watched TSS, it ended and I was gung-ho in Eggsy’s corner. I think we all were. There wasn’t any natural opposition worth arguing over, really. The villains were really, really wrong, and Eggsy was purely correct in what he was fighting for.

I didn’t give Charlie a second glance. (Can you believe that? Ha, me either.) They wrote him too one-note. Sure, he was pretty handsome, but not someone I’d think about for more than a second as his rudeness towards the golden boy, Eggsy turned me off, big time.

So imagine my great surprise when I go see TGC in theaters and I’m left stunned in my seat while I panic about my friend sitting beside me immediately judging me the moment I open my mouth and utter the words “I didn’t like Eggsy so much this time.”

Except what I really meant to say was “holy shit, Charlie got an upgrade.”

Because let’s be real, he did! Not just in appearance, though that was a bonus, but you can tell Ed really tried to give Charlie more dimension, even with what little he was given to work with.

In TSS he was a bratty posh rich boy with no real stake in the fight who gave up at the perfect spot to advance the plot (though I have tons of thoughts about how that all could be read differently).

TGC let him grow. There’s a year we don’t know about, but obviously he’s been through a LOT. We see him waking up in Valentine’s bunker, MISSING AN ARM and HOBBLING OVER MANY MANY MANY DEAD BODIES INCLUDING THOSE OF HIS FAMILY. That’s not something I’d probably ever get over, let alone survive.

(Can you imagine his family seeing him get zapped, possibly going over to console him and wake him up, only for their heads to go ‘pop’? Because I sure can.)

We still know nothing about how he got fixed up with all his new gadgets besides that Poppy’s guys made them, we don’t even know how he came into contact with Poppy or how long he was alone, injured, before he got help.

We do know Poppy was aware of what Valentine did, and probably what caused his demise (Kingsman), so did she stop by to investigate? Was she somehow already there and immune from the head-popping incident? Did she come across a gravely injured Charlie and take him in? Or did they cross paths some other way, possibly after he recovered?

If she found him and took him in right away, it wasn’t because of his connections. He couldn’t SPEAK. He couldn’t tell her all the insider information he had access to, he didn’t even know her plans.

So there had to be a level of care there on Poppy’s part. And sure, through seeing how she was looking after him, Charlie came to care for her too, probably using her as a surrogate mother figure after stumbling over his own mother’s headless body in the bunker.

The kid’s gone through some trauma. We have to give him that.

For holding a knife to Eggsy’s neck and otherwise being a non-issue, his whole family got killed. Yeah, them being there was probably a decent justification for what happened to them, but...is it though?

How do we know the circumstances that put Charlie there? His mother there? His brothers there? (Don’t fight me, he has to have brothers with how he acts) His father we can assume made some sort of deal with Valentine. It’s obvious Charlie’s dad’s got connections, what with securing Charlie as Arthur’s candidate in the first place, and we can assume they’re both a bit shady after it’s uncovered that Arthur’s a traitor, but I’m sure Charlie didn’t know the details. At least, not all of them.

His story would’ve ended there if not for Eggsy (ACCIDENTALLY) saving his life, which Eggsy was less than pleased about.

YOU DISAGREE AND BICKER WITH SOMEONE AND THAT’S JUSTIFICATION FOR KILLING THEM?

I’m sorry, does anyone else think that’s a bit...weird? No? Just me? I’m sure this won’t be palatable for most people, but these are things I think about during subsequent re-watches of these films, from an incredibly biased perspective.

So let’s make that clear in case my blog’s existence didn’t already give it away.

YES I AM BIASED. SO FUCKING BIASED. I LOVE THIS BOY AND THINK HE DESERVED BETTER.

Alright. Sorry. Back to it.

So great: Charlie survived, and spent a year recovering (possibly all of it spent with Poppy). He got his voice back via a strange device, and he got a brand new shiny arm to match.

Once fully in Poppy’s retinue, he was finally utilized for a plan she’d been working on for a long time. Those antidote production facilities don’t pop up overnight. The stockpiles of it don’t appear in a few days. Enough for almost the whole population, all across the world? This took planning. I’d even argue this was well underway before Charlie got on board. Him having inside information about Kingsman only helped Poppy feel like it was finally the right time to go ahead with it all.

And it’s not as if he was immediately spilling the beans. Eggsy was established, comfortable even, before Charlie showed back up again. Meaning he kept some of the information to himself until he really trusted Poppy, or, they planned this confrontation for months. Making sure Charlie was ready.

And this is very important:

Making sure Charlie wouldn’t go after Eggsy in blind anger for what happened to his family. Making sure he was focused singularly on their goal of getting the information out of that taxi.

You have to notice some things about the cab fight.

First, Charlie was after the console in the back. Had Eggsy unlocked the cab and left, that would’ve been the end of the encounter. Of course, Eggsy wouldn’t just give up trade secrets like that (which I totally agree with), so instead he forces Charlie into the cab to attempt to get rid of him.

Second, Charlie was not trying to kill Eggsy. He just wasn’t. Flashy fight scene aside, the only moments where anyone was in real danger were:

Eggsy shooting at Charlie (Did he just magically understand that the arm would protect him? No)

Eggsy about to get sandwiched between the two cars (was Charlie driving? No)

And Eggsy swiping at Charlie with the poisoned blade in his shoe, the very same weapon he used to kill Gazelle.

We can assume Charlie wasn’t intending to kill the cab driver. Honestly. He was just saving himself. But yeah, sure, I’ll give you that one.

Charlie’s thrown from the cab, his metal arm left behind, but he’s still breathing. Regardless, he succeeded. In gaining information. Information Poppy wanted.

Did Charlie know what Poppy planned to use the information for? Most definitely. So yeah, while I can sit here all day and tell you he didn’t personally push the button, I’ll give you that too. I can imagine Poppy doing it in a protective, motherly way. The way she watches the progress with Charlie. She announces to him that it’s been dealt with. And then gives him a gift.

Yeah, I know. Arm-Ageddon.

He gets this mere days before the final confrontation. This weighs into how ineffective he seems. He’s not had any time to train with it. He’s had the lesser version of the arm for much longer, but it’s lighter, smaller, less obvious, and less useful in a fight besides for self-defense.

What time has he had to train with the new arm? To get used to the heft of it? Pretty much none, when you think about it. He’s been travelling around for Poppy, for Clara, and most of this movie takes place across a few days. I’d say he’s doing his best adapting.

His whole fighting style has changed. He relies upon it HEAVILY and chooses to anchor himself as opposed to staying flexible and on the move. He’s a heavy hitter now, kind of tank-y, but we don’t get to see much variety. Because there’s not time to explore its many new functions.

In between all this we get a glimpse of how Charlie’s changed. We know nothing about the extent or actual status of Charlie’s relationship with Clara. First, she’s his ex. Then she’s his girlfriend. I get it, it’s “complicated,” we just don’t know. Was she with him before V-Day? Did he bring her on with Poppy? Or did he meet her through TGC?

Who knows.

The bigger takeaway is that despite whatever is going on, they are mostly apart and he definitely warned her about the spiked drugs. Does she listen? No. But what does he do? He personally sees to it that she gets the antidote. She gets cured.

And I’ll put money on Poppy not having a clue.

Why? Because it’s risky at this stage. Also, an antidote was taken by Eggsy as a result, and Charlie didn’t know what became of it. But he had to report it to Poppy just the same. Destroying that stockpile wasn’t his call to make. But was he ordered to get rid of it? Most definitely.

So yeah, sure he’s angry with Clara for hooking up with his mortal enemy and leading him there, but he’s more angry with Eggsy. He doesn’t yell at Clara, though she definitely knows she’s messed up, instead he focuses his anger on Eggsy. He knows if they get away with the antidote he risks his position at Poppy’s table. And that’s the last thing he wants to do.

Because Poppy = mom, and that’s exactly what Charlie needs.

We also get to see how polite Charlie is.

He’s nice to Poppy. He tries to get her to perk up and gives her bits of motivation when she’s down. He indulges her silly hobbies like bowling and going to Elton concerts for two.

He thanks the guy for opening the door at the antidote stockpile because even though he’s absolutely pissed off, he knows it’s not to be directed at him.

He’s trying, okay?

Alright, I know this is stupidly long at this point and I feel like cutting it down so it’s something people will actually read but. I just can’t do that.

Still, I’ll try to wrap this up.

Charlie doesn’t give up Poppy’s information. Whether he knows about the password or not is irrelevant. He struggles against Eggsy, but ultimately he accepts his fate. You can see it in his face.

He laughs. He laughs because he knows it’s unavoidable. He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t throw a fit. He accepts it.

Quite different from him being tied to those train tracks, don’t you think?

If that’s not growth, then I don’t know what is.

And let’s point one other thing out.

Poppy’s plan would’ve worked and there would’ve been FAR LESS CASUALTIES if not for the dick president refusing to sign. So while a bit misguided, we can say that not all those lives lost are on Poppy’s hands either. Not that she’s a saint, she grinds up people and feeds them to her employees, but she’s not 100% culpable.

I do absolutely think quite a few people would’ve died simply based on the logistics of getting those documents from point A to point B, it would’ve been drastically reduced. We can’t know for sure.

Holding the population hostage? Super shitty.

Not signing the documents because you’re a holier-than-thou dick? Also super shitty. Just saying.

And if you REALLY want to put this in a grey area, what about Tequila? Not gonna open that can of worms, but the idea that Eggsy and co. are 100% pure isn’t fair. So can we allow a tiny percentage of acceptance of Charlie? Because in the grand scheme of things he’s really no villain. An obstacle? Sure. But a villain? No. Does he have reason to be now if they somehow bring him back for a future film (PLEASE)? YEP.

Charlie’s not a hero. Not even close. Does he have reason to be angry though? Hell yes. Does he do a relatively good job at controlling himself? Yep. Did he deserve an apology, or even a chance at possible redemption? Absolutely.

He reacted to hearing Merlin over the walkie talkie, so there’s some part of him that doesn’t totally hate Kingsman…

Give the boy a shot. Please.

#charlie hesketh #KINGSMAN #STUPIDLY LONG WASTE OF A POST BUT #I was inspired #everybody deserved better this time around #I can't even think about what they did to roxy without burning anger #healthy discourse is good for the community #I think #I love you guys please don't be mad at me for this #if you think I'm wrong that's valid and fair #I'd love to hear more opposing opinions

26 notes · View notes