#mcr if you are listening please do it over the summer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sanderssideswriting · 3 years

Text

ship: prinxiety, background intrulogical

genre: fluff

warnings: swearing, like one sexual innuendo, very breif mention of murder (as a joke, this is fluff after all)

summary: Radio AU where Virgil runs the 11-1 am radio on his college and every night someone calls to complain about his music selections and request disney, and Virgil never plays disney.

Virgil sat in his swivel chair and put on the headphones “sup bitches I’m back and this time with like three monsters because finals are a bitch and sleep can suck my dick. The first song of the night is Lotta True Crime by Peneople Scott. Why? Because I say it is that’s why.” Virgil put the song on and worked on his final project as the songs played.

The phone rang and Virgil groaned and checked the number. This dick again. He picked up and put it on air since people seemed to love listening to him and disney guy argue.

“listen asshole if you want to listen to Disney so fucking badly then apply for a spot and stop calling me.”

there’s a laugh “how about you just play some disney then? if you do I’ll stop calling. Because your music taste sucks.”

Virgil rolls his eyes “bitch apply for an opening and have a disney hour. And let me listen to my music, because not everyone loves fucking disney.”

“Well many people do so why not play one song.”

Virgil snorts “first no, and second if I had to I’d make everyone regret it and play let it go.”

“Let it go is great!”

“bye bye Princey, stop calling”

Virgil hung up “and since Princey called you know what we’re playing? MCR because I know he hates it. So this one’s for you princey, up next after this ad because this place needs money. By the way if you’re not a broke bitch donate because this job is like kinda decent and I like making you all listen to the music I like. Blood by MCR is up next” Virgil played the ad and leaned back in his chair.

“Why do you take his calls if you know he’ll just be annoying?” Janus asks in class.

Virgil shrugs “since it started I get more listeners which is good for the station.”

“I think it’s funny, cause you two have cute pet names for each other, princey and emo nightmare” Remus says.

Virgil elbows him “they’re not pet names.”

“they are,” Janus says, moving so Virgil couldn’t elbow him.

Roman waits to dial the number, he had to admit he sort of enjoyed his and emo nightmare’s conversations, who refused to reveal his name or grade.

At first they’d been annoying and he’d genuinely complained about all the emo music and asking to play disney but it’d soon become a nightly ritual, that had very quickly ruined Roman’s sleep schedule.

He dialed the number “seriously, why all the emo music, emo nightmare?”

“you just answered your own question princey, why the obsession with disney songs princey? See? Sounds fucking stupid.”

Roman sighs dramatically “you wound me emo nightmare. But seriously what’ll it take to get you to play ONE disney song?”

“a hundred grand, that’s how much the station needs to keep running, do that and I’ll play ONE disney song.”

“four.”

“Three songs and a hundred and fifty grand, fifty grand per song. final offer. and I get to pick the songs.’

Roman nods “deal,”

“oh and, you have until the end of finals to get the money donated, and I’ll make the gofundme, not you.”

That’s like a month and a half away Roman thinks I’ll have enough time. “sure thing emo nightmare.”

Roman’s emo hung up. He smiles like an idiot.

“Why not ask him out? it’s clear you’re fond of him” Roman’s roommate Logan says from his side of the room.

“ask out a guy I don’t even know the name of? yeah sure” Roman snorts.

“what? Scared you’ll be rejected? I cannot believe I’m saying this, but Roman I am getting more dick then you have been ever since you started talking to your radio boy.” Logan says in an even tone.

Roman pretends to gag “you don’t need to tell me how much you and my brother have done it Logan, you two being together is enough for me to want to bleach my eyes.”

“you’re no better whenever you’re going out with someone, or even hooked up with a slightly above average guy.”

Remus barged in “Loooo I need help studying.”

Roman stood up “that’s my queue to leave.”

Remus watches Roman go “so what where you two talking about?”

“oh you know, he’s still calling the campus radio station to ask for disney songs” Logan says.

“Wait, Roman is Princey?” Remus asks, he starts laughing

“Yes? You didn’t know?”

Remus cackles “no! oh this is great! My best friend Virgil does the 11 to 1 radio, he’s Emo Nightmare and Roman is his Princey”

“We could set them up, Roam is so lovesick, I swear he’s head over heels for him and he hasn’t even met Virgil” Logan says.

Remus gasps “this is why I love you! Of course we’re going to set them up.”

Logan and Remus came up with a plan, they’d invite Roman and Virgil to a study session and then never showed up, leaving Virgil and Roman to wait.

Virgil puts on his headphones and starts loudly playing panic at the disco and reading over his shitty notes.

Someone taps him on the shoulder “hey can you turn the emo shit down, I’m trying to study and it’s really loud.”

Virgil turns it down a bit “that good?”

he nods “yeah, where you also ghosted for a study session?”

“Yeah I was, my best friend and his nerdy boyfriend where supposed to help me study, they probably forgot all about me.” Virgil says.

“Logan And Remus? Remus is my brother and Logan’s my roommate” Roman says.

“Yeah, well since we’re both here we could study together if you want” please say no please say no.

“Sounds good!” Roman says.

Fuck.

Virgil and Roman studied for awhile and Virgil very slowly started warming up to Roman. “ah shit I have to go, see you round I guess” Virgil says packing up his stuff, he wanted to have some alone time before his shift.

“ok Bye Virgil,” Roman says packing up, he had to go do his own thing, which would probably end up becoming a quick nap before his emo nightmare started his turn being the radio host.

Virgil sat in the chair “what up bitches, so far the goal has 10k, so no disney tonight, or ever because this is on a time crunch and 150k is a fuck ton of money for broke college students. And now onto Fuck you by Lily Allen. Why? Because she’s underrated and because I said so.” Virgil played the song.

Virgil got the call around 12:30 “you’re calling later then usual princey, and no, no disney tonight.”

“Oh I was just about to ask. And also I was asking how to find the gofundme.”

“It’s on the UCLA radio website, can’t miss it. Now let me do my fucking job” Virgil hung up and played MCR as was tradition.

What he didn’t know was Roman recorded the phone call and posted it everywhere he could anonymously and waited.

Virgil checked the go fund me in the morning “it has fifty k already?! What the fuck? Princey what did you do?”

Virgil waited for the nightly call “Hey what the fuck how is the goal at sixty k? How the fuck princey?”

He laughed “I asked the internet for help, I think most of it’s from tiktok, you’re going to have to play disney emo nightmare”

“fuck you princey and your stupid obsession with disney.”

“you have an obsession with my chemical romance and Brendon Urie”

“name three other artists I play on here then bitch.”

“Mother Mother, Lily Allen and as of late Derivakat” Roman says without hesitation.

Virgil was speechless for a second, then hung up. “fucking bitch, you guys know what time it is” he played Teenagers.

A week and a half passed and the funds had slowly been going up, and Virgil and Roman’s calls continued nightly as usual.

Virgil and Roman met up a few times to study for finals, sometimes with Remus and Logan, sometimes without.

the goal just barely missed the end of finals. Virgil smirked “No disney today, or ever because you people missed the goal byyyyy” Virgil checked the go fund me “three thousand dollars. I’d say better luck next time but there won’t be a next time.” he chuckled. The phone rang and Virgil picked up, knowing it was Princey.

“oooh too late princey no disney songs during my shift.”

“you might want to check the gofundme one last time my dear emo nightmare.”

Virgil refreshes the page “first of all, I’m not yours bitch second- what the fuck, how?” the goal had been met.

Roman laughs “play the disney emo. Play. The fucking. Disney.”

Virgil could tell he was gonna gloat so he hung up.

Virgil grumbles and gets the disney queued “ok fine the goal was met, so time for my suffering, I have queued Fixer Upper from Frozen because it’s a shitty song with a shitty message. Make a man out of you because I like Mulan and for everyone’s inconvenience I have How Far I’ll Go so have fun with that stuck in your head.”

Roman was a bit insulted when Emo nightmare hung up on him, so he called him back once the songs had ended “wasn’t so hard was it?”

“for you maybe, it was for me,” Virgil hung up and blocked the number.

Over the Summer both Virgil and Roman found themselves missing their talks. Roman so much so he applied for one of the newly opened spots for the next semester from 2-5 pm.

Virgil drove onto campus at 4, putting on campus radio and was met with disney. the song ended and the new host spoke “and I hope everyone liked that, up now is a short commercial break.”

Virgil nearly swerved off the road and pulled over and called the station.

Roman picked up. “Hey what the actual FUCK?” Virgil says as soon as he does.

Roman laughs “oh how the tables have turned Emo Nightmare”

“I hate you, I fucking hate you what the actual fuck princey”

he laughed more “You yourself said that working here is nice, and there was an opening, so I took it. You should be happy, I mean now I won’t brother you about playing disney.”

Virgil frowned “yeah yeah, whatever princey have fun with that.”

“oh I will emo nightmare, I absolutely will.” Roman hung up feeling happy in a way he hadn’t felt all summer.

Virgil unpacked his stuff in his new dorm, he was a little pissed but also excited. Maybe he and princey would finally meet face to face. Why am I excited about that? I hate him, at the least he annoyed me every day for months, but he did raise a bunch of money. Even if his disney obessed ass is super annoying.

Roman walked in at 6 “hey Virgil, I’m guessing you’re going to be my roommate?”

Virgil looked up from his laptop “I guess, don’t take my monsters from the fridge and we’ll be golden, or blast disney 24/7″

Roman chuckled “what do you have against disney?”

“Micky Mouse killed my parents in front of me after I said that Merida was my favorite princess.” Virgil said dryly.

Roman chuckled “that’s why I dedicated my life to the mouse.”

“That’s why I swore to get my revenge on the mouse.”

“I won’t blast disney 24/7 but you can’t blast your emo music.” Roman says

Virgil snorted “dude I have the worst anxiety I don’t even own a speaker. so you don’t blast your music, I won’t blast mine and we’ll be fine.”

“Deal,”

Roman called that night like always and Virgil was ready “aww Princey, did you miss me that much?”

“not really, but I’m still trying to get you to willingly play a disney song.”

Virgil rolled his eyes “you know what, it’s a new year, time for a new leaf, I’ll humor you princey and play a disney song.”

“wait really?”

Virgil queued up Mad At Disney “no.” he hung up and the song started.

Virgil and Roman went back to their usual routine of lowkey flirting with each other during Virgil’s shift, and sometimes during Roman’s.

They where getting along well as roomates but hadn’t figured out that they where each other’s Princey and emo nightmare.

Somehow he and Princey had gotten into an argument about if Cruella would be a good or bad movie. Roman had hope it would be, Virgil wasn’t so convinced.

“Princey, she is a completely evil character, she can’t be redeemable, she shouldn’t be. She wanted to make puppies into a coat, that’s fucked up. There’s no black and white she’s bad and that’s that.”

“Maybe if you gave the movie a chance!”

“fuck no! did you not hear what I just fucking said?”

“then how about we see it then we can see who’s right?”

“fine, I’m free at three this Satuday.” Virgil said, way too caught up in the moment.

“same, see you then emo nightmare, I’ll be by the doors waiting.”

“fine, but I’m going to be right.”

“then it’s a date!”

“I guess it is!” Virgil hung up.

he didn’t realize he’d said yes to going out on a date with a guy he didn’t even know until the next day.

The whole campus was freaking out about it since the station had blown up quite a bit because of Virgil and Roman’s nightly arguments.

Roman left early, he’d dressed up a bit, and had a disney shirt with a little crown logo on it, it wasn’t that obvious but he figured it’d be telling enough.

Virgil put on a bit more eyeliner then usual and fishnets under his ripped jeans but that was about it, he chose to be petty and waited until about 3:20 to go to the doors where Roman wait waiting.

Virgil walked passed him at first. Roman saw him “emo nightmare?”

Virgil stopped “are you fucking kidding me?” he got a few glares from parents. “You’re princey? my fucking roommate?”

“I did not plan that, but yeah I am, and you’re my emo nightmare.”

Virgil rolled his eyes “still not yours princey, come on the movies about to start.”

They exited the movie and Virgil grinned “I fucking told you it’d be bad, I told you!”

“yeah yeah, you did it was bad. Want to get some coffee?”

“sure, I’ll pay,” Virgil said casually.

Roman grinned “I’ll win you over one day my emo nightmare.”

“stop begging me to play disney music and maybe you will.”

#roman sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #thomas sanders #sander sides #prinxiety #roman x virgil #roman sanders x virgil sanders

74 notes · View notes

katsumox · 3 years

Text

"and all the things that you never, ever told me"

hitoshi x reader angst, apocalypse au

a/n: i pulled this shit out of nowhere so thats why its,, like that.

cw: mentions of death, guns, nihilism? yeah. just a bad time all around.

word count: 0.9k

The way the world fell apart so quickly seemed way too easy to you. Or too quick. It came in waves, first in the fungal brain disease, or whatever it was, in animals, finally passing over to humanity. There was no “protecting yourself” from it. The only way to get rid of it was to kill it entirely, the person it inhibited as well. The world’s governments had no plans for this, so big cities, like Tokyo, where you are now, became war zones. Then the major world powers started to fight, forcing the thought of nuclear annihilation into your brain. When you found Shinso again, life became easier, although in the smallest ways.

Navigating the woods, or restocking canned food, domestic things, if you will. He was also a hell of a tracker, it leaves you wondering where he picked it up at times.

“Had a huge zombie phase when I was young,” he says when you ask, laughing bitterly at the irony of it all.

You said nothing to that, opting to nod sullenly. No words would have left your mouth anyway.

Killing, or rather “exterminating” the infested became easier as well. It only became easier because it had to, though. Armed with two Rugers and an M16, you got used to knocking off heads, ignoring the begging and pleading of the coherent ones, knowing they’d turn fully hostile in a matter of days. There wasn’t a point in trying to save something that was pretty much gone in the first place. Shinso was sure to remind you that when it came to coherents and children, you were partial to them; you felt bad, you felt as though, or hoped, rather they could be saved. That hope was always false.

Sitting in the truck, listening to the song of cicadas and grasshoppers, you stopped to look at the sky, watching the clouds, revelling in the peace before looking for Shinso.

“Got the radio up and running,” he grumbles, moving towards you to sit in the truck bed all the while turning it on to hear any national updates. You hum in acknowledgement and move aside so there’s space for him where you sit. There’s radio static, so much of it that the words are unintelligible.

An older man’s somber voice blasts through the speaker as Shinso cringes and moves to turn down the radio.

“People of the world,” the man sighs, voice tired and full of melancholy, “Nuclear bombs have been launched, heading to the major world powers as we speak. Nuclear annihilation is imminent. We advise you to stay calm and to take cover for your safety and the safety of your families.”

You both knew it was coming, yet it didn’t sting any less.

Breathing heavily, panicking, heaving almost, you recount all of the easy things. Remembering your name. Talking to Shinso. Reloading the Rugers and the M16. Naming the M16. Using it. Driving the truck with Shinso. Humming MCR songs with Shinso. Living, no, just existing with Shinso is, no, was easy, too easy to say your feelings were just platonic.

However, this situation wasn’t. Not in any sense of the word was this, in any way, easy.

“Well, time’s up,” you shakily sigh, shutting off the dinky radio, mulling over the weight of the words that were said. That the sun that sets tonight will be the last one you see. The static voice rings through your ears as the two of you sit in the bed of the sturdy truck. Words of ‘nuclear annihilation’ and advice to ‘take cover while you can’ repeat themselves over and over in your head as you stare blankly at the late summer sun. The last sun you will see. The last chance you have before it all goes to hell.

The boy takes in a shaky breath, sitting stoically as your arms wrap around him, slowly, tentatively. Like you're scared of him, yet you press on, arms finally deciding to cling to him, to give him some form of reassurance your words couldn’t. As you rub his shoulders to comfort him, he blanches.

“Y/N, what the fuck is happening,” he stutters, tears falling, voice cracking in the most painful way.

“Y/N, it’s not like we can do shit about it, right? So why am I fucking crying?” You watch his watery eyes swim in tears and confusion while he refuses to look directly at you.

“I, uh. I hugged you. It’s finally gonna be over. I’m so tired, Shin.” you rush out, slowly removing yourself from him, trying not to offend him anymore than you have.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Come back,” he says, cutting you off, taking in a shaky breath again, thinking about his words before he speaks.

“You can’t just,” he sniffs, blinking, “Don’t fucking leave. Please. Do what you were doing.”

You say nothing, not like you could; it hurt to talk, as dust and the lack of water for the past day and half was finally getting to you.

“Hitoshi,” you rasp, struggling to breathe as you grab at his face, wiping at his tears, frantically at this point.

“Hitoshi,” you try again, “I love y-” but you’re moments too late.

The blast is blinding and scorching hot. Violent even, being the product of human suffering and strife finally boiling over. But in it, there is understanding; there is peace.

taglist: @silkylious @koishiguro @katsumiiii @sobaluvr @smexy-goose @1-800-s1mping @mypimpademia @quincywrites @tododekukisses @blackweebtrash

#shinsou x y/n #shinsou x you #shinsou x reader #shinsou angst #bnha x black!reader #bnha x reader #bnha au #hitoshi x y/n #hitoshi x you #hitoshi x reader

50 notes · View notes

dylanhawth · 3 years

Text

[ LORENZO ZURZOLO, CISMAN, HE/HIM ] shh ! DYLAN HAWTHORNE, the TWENTY year old SECOND year ANTHROPOLOGY major from HARTFORD, CT is known as a TOURMALINE around here. HE was invited to join because HE PUBLISHED A COLLECTION OF SHORT STORIES ANONYMOUSLY THAT GARNERED A BIT OF FOLLOWING AND RECENTLY STEPPED FORWARD AS THE AUTHOR, and now, they’re here to stay. HE reminds me of THE NERVOUSNESS OF A FIRST KISS, LEAVING SECRET MESSAGES IN LIBRARY BOOKS, DRIVING AIMLESSLY WITH THE WINDOWS ROLLED DOWN ON A WARM SUMMER NIGHT WHILE THE RADIO HUMS A PLAYLIST CURATED FOR YOU BY YOUR BEST FRIEND.

[ big ass bio ] | [ connections ] | [ pinterest ] | [ playlist ]

ooc.

omfg hello. i can’t tell you how excited and happy i am to be here. i was too nervous to apply for the last three months but i decided to stop being a Coward and just try. im SO happy to be here, it’s the highlight of my week tbh lmao. anyway i am mar, she/her, 24, est. i live in nyc and all i do is visit the planetarium and cry. i’m so fucking bad at these so im just gonna LIST things and hope you get the vibe. i am a pisces sun, scorpio moon. i prob have a napoleon complex a little bit lmao. my favorite social media site is goodreads and i get rlly sad when my friends rate books i love poorly dfljskdfs. i can touch my tongue to my nose. i eat a lot of persimmons. i have a favorite rock at my local park that i visit a lot. idk dfskjls. i’m v friendly tho so pls hmu. i send a lot of memes, and love making meme edits for the chars so im rlly sorry in advance if you guys hate that.

01. basics.

NAME. dylan h. hawthorne. ALIASES. dyl, hawth. AGE. twenty. HOMETOWN. hartford, ct. GENDER. cismale. PRONOUNS. he/him.

02. appearance.

EYES. green. HAIR. brown. HEIGHT. 6”0 BUILD. lean. BIRTHMARKS / BURNS / SCARS. a birthmark the shape of australia on his left thigh. TATTOOS. n/a. PIERCINGS. n/a.

03. habits.

ALCOHOL ? socially. SMOKING ? socially. HABITS. fidgets in chairs. cracks knuckles and back often. nervous laughter. chewing on pencils. talking to his plants. dogearing books. staring off into space and applying chapstick for a prolonged period of time. getting overly competitive about boardgames. stress cleaning. carries a book in his bag always. night owl. incredibly impatient when the internet is slow. creature of habit when it comes to menus, orders the same shit over and over again. LIKES. feeding the ducks at the local pond. the smell of the earth after a rainstorm. the way music sounds coming from another room. kissing. watering his plants. inside jokes. making wishes in fountains. discussing a recently finished book with someone. making handmade cards for friends on their birthday. fireworks. coming of age films. packages wrapped in twine. jogs. the way friday nights feels when you’re with someone you love. the feeling you get leaving the movie theatre. DISLIKES. being late. having too many coins on him. coffee with no sugar. when people speak loudly in the library. doing laundry. handshakes with too much squeeze. receiving voicemails. untidiness. golf. charles dickens. lectures with no student input. hot weather. confrontation. being caught in a lie. losing his umbrella. people who cheat during games. rainboots. bad table manners. humidity.

04. personality.

MYERS-BRIGGS. infp. ENNEAGRAM. the helper. ZODIAC. pisces. TEMPERAMENT. melancholic. ALIGNMENT. neutral good. ARCHETYPE. the lover. POSITIVE. empathetic. sensitive. intelligent. charismatic. easygoing. gentle. loyal. passionate. romantic. humble. supportive. gregarious. playful. diligent. NEGATIVE. deceitful. gullible. finicky. naive. obsessive. perfectionistic. secretive. timid. possessive. weak-willed. indecisive. cynical. indulgent. summary: basically, dylan is a love starved, people pleasing nervous wreck. big ass nerd who wants to be everyones friend, wants to be liked SO BAD. very charming and charismatic, comes off as fairly confident and comfortable at first. is able to make everyone feel loved and like they’re the most important person in the world, however lacks a backbone. is both romeo and juliet, and just as dumb as both of them too.

05. hc’s.

dylan was a football player in high school, believe it or not. he was rather good at it too, which is sort of jarring considering his pacifistic nature. however, he DID land on someone incorrectly at some point during his senior year, and broke their wrist. he quickly abandoned the sport altogether because of how guilty he felt.

touched on this briefly but dylan really… loves indiana jones lmao. like, it’s quite ironic given his absolutely inability to be a badass, and lack of suaveness. however, he admires indy’s lust for adventure. he also was obsessed with the mummy as a kid. both of these were incredible sources in his very irrational decision to sudden anthropology. however, he does really love and admire anthropology. his favorite ethnography is the spirit catches you and you fall down, which makes him cry like a little bitch every time he even thinks about it.

he’s the second oldest, but he is also baby. he is SUCH a big momma’s boy. he misses his mom so much. he writes to her often, and of course calls her even more. despite being six-foot tall, he still goes home and rests his head on his mother's lap, falls asleep as she runs her fingers through his hair. he often tries to find native english plants and flowers to press, and mail back to his mother in the form of bookmarks. has nEVER STEPPED ON A CRACK IN HIS LIFE, BABY.

just leaves a shit ton of notes in books in the library. some are riddles, some are poetry, some are commentary on the book, some are doodles. just depends on how he’s feeling for that book. he doesn’t tell anyone he does it, but he’s waiting for someone to connect the dots with his handwriting and writing style.

speaking of plants, his room is basically a big greenhouse. he has so many plants, and takes serious care of them all. he has a little humidifier in his space for them, marks down when he waters what plants, and has a label maker to label them all with a name. they are all named after shakespeare characters.

dyl is a doodler, so much so that he contributes to the school paper as a cartoonist. his cartoons are usually just random thoughts he has, but sometimes they get political and he works marxism into them. (this man loves marx.)

[ suicide implied tw, death mention tw ] he dresses like a victorian boy in love with his roommate who has recently died of scarlet fever and in his mourning, plans to disappear in the bog by the school by mysterious circumstances and become a ghost that haunts the college with his lover. like lots of gray and slacks and ties ands ties and sweaters, lol. also he has glasses that he never wears because he can never find them! catch him squinting in your classroom because he can’t see SHIT. too shy to ask you for your notes though, doesn’t wanna inconvenience you! but when he’s Out on the Town®, he fucking wears like, tacky patterned shirts that are expensive but ugly. someone please help him.

all about fun socks! he loves owning socks that have dumb little images on them. if you get him a pair of fun socks, he’d absolutely go nuts. his entire week: made.

he leaves his roommate limericks when he senses they are sad. tapes em to the bathroom mirror or leaves them in the fridge. also loves buying people presents. tiny ones. like haunted looking things from second hand stores, or your favorite chocolate. also is the sort of friend that has EVERYTHING in his bag, in case someone cuts themselves or has a headache. can be a bit of a mom himself. it’s the little things, y’know?

prob still in his emo phase. listens to way too mcr to not be lmao.

eco-friendly king, will not stand for you not recycling.

if you will allow him, he will attempt to have a secret handshake with you. he’s a child. is dying for someone to memorize the parent trap handshake and indulge him.

cannot sit still in a chair. fidgets an excessive amount, the bobbing of his knee and the squirming around. it just never ends.

bi. that’s the hc.

he’s a little bit in love with everyone he meets if you couldn’t tell, and it’s fucking disastrous.

he is based loosely off: patroclus ( the song of achilles ), ponyboy curtis ( the outsiders ), laurie laurence ( little women ), eduardo saverin ( the social network ), remus lupin ( hp ), oliver marks ( if we were villains. )

( @opalsmedia )

#opalsintro #intro #his background and things are in the big ass bio dfsklds but this is the gist of it lol

31 notes · View notes

xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx · 4 years

Text

Lunch Break - MCR + Reader

Request: ok but fam jam mcr highschool au

Word count: 845

A/N: I… don’t know what “fam jam” means, so you get this instead.

“If they tell me to ‘just swim’ one more time, I’ll-“

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll…”

“Yes?”

“Slam your guitar over their heads?”

Both you and Ray turned to Frank with raised eyebrows.

“That’s a tad bit violent, don’t you think,” you asked him, but Ray shook his head.

“I think, that might actually work,” he considered.

“You can’t- okay forget it. Frank, we’ve finally got to teach Ray how to swim properly,” you decided.

“Did he almost drown again,” Gerard asked, joining the conversation as you walked down the hallways of the high school towards the lunch room.

“He didn’t even get in,” Frank explained.

“You really are going to drown one day if you don’t let us teach you, dude,” Gerard frowned in concern.

“I know, I know,” Ray sighed, stopping at his locker, “I promise this summer you can teach me all you want, but if I drown in anyone’s pool, that’s on you.”

“We won’t let you drown,” Mikey promised, scaring all of you. He had the talent of appearing out of nowhere without warning.

“We wouldn’t let our lead guitarist drown,” you agreed, patting Ray’s back, who grinned.

“Yeah, let’s hope so,” he nodded.

“Cool, now that that’s been cleared, can we finally go for lunch? I’m starving,” Frank whined.

After Ray had put his heavy geography book into his locker, all of you turned and continued your way to the lunch room, where you picked up your food, and searched for a free table. You found one in a corner, and settled down, while the discussion, as so often these days, circled back to the upcoming band practice. It was hard to find a time where all five of you were free, and this weekend seemed like the perfect opportunity. And since your next show was coming up next month you all got eager to practice more again.

“Okay, okay, guys, but listen, I got news,” Gerard eventually interrupted the heated discussion between Frank and Ray, who were talking about how to play the chorus of one of the songs best. “You remember how we discussed going on tour this summer?”

Everyone nodded.

“Yeah, but we also discussed that we’d need a van or something,” you reminded him.

“Exactly! And I got news concerning that,” Gerard grinned, and Mikey nodded eagerly. The other three band members were curiously listening. “Okay, so, my – our – grandma Elena, she’s been to some of our shows, right? So she came over yesterday, and told Mikey and me, well she told us that she’s gotten us this old, fucked up van, and she’s giving it to the band as a gift, or like an investment, and she wants us to go on tour with it.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, everyone processing Gerard’s words. Only Gerard and Mikey were sitting there, grinning widely.

Frank was the first one to jump up.

“Fucking hell yes,” he cheered, hugging Ray, who also began cheering.

“Oh my god,” you could not quite believe what you had just heard, the words sounding too good to be true. And then Frank and Ray hugged you, and you hugged Mikey and Gerard. All of you were cheering and grinning like idiots, so much that the students at the neighboring tables started to send you weird looks, weirder than usual, but neither of you cared.

“We’re going on a fucking tour, guys,” you laughed breathlessly, and hugged Ray again, who was running his hands through his short cut hair unbelievingly.

“Oh wow,” Frank mumbled, and eventually all of you managed to calm back down.

“We’ve got so much planning to do,” Ray suddenly realized, “we need to ask venues to let us play, and we can try to contact people we know in other states and we-“

“We’ll do all of that,” Gerard agreed, “but not now, later. Now we celebrate.” He picked up the tetra pack of apple juice from his tablet, and lifted it into the air as if it was a glass of champagne. Then he waited for all of you to do the same. “To an amazing summer, to an awesome tour and to My Chemical Romance!”

“To My Chemical Romance!” The rest of the band laughed, and you knocked your juice tetra packs against each other, before taking a tiny sip, on which you almost choked from all the laughing.

After lunch you had just two more classes but neither of you was able to pay attention. Instead Ray started to make a list of cities he definitely wanted to visit along the tour, quietly explaining to everyone what was so special to him about each and every one of them. Frank had somehow started to write a new song somewhere in between his notes for philosophy, and Mikey and Gerard stuck their heads together whenever the teacher was not looking, to design a logo to paint on the van.

You just sat in the middle of it all, and grinned to yourself, knowing this summer would be without a doubt the best one so far.

Taglist (if you want to be added or taken off, please let me know):

General: @justawriterinprogress @robinruns @jayloverthe3rd @lookalivefrosty @butterfly-writes @rene-royale @angelevansfalls @starduststyx

MCR: @deadlovers

110 notes · View notes

vampiresuns · 4 years

Text

How Will It Matter After You’re Gone

For Anatole’s day 13 of @arcana-echoes: Aftermath.

Title: From Disenchanted - My Chemical Romance (Nana was an MCR teen, it’s only fair).

Quick guide: Here you can check on the Cassano-Radosevic family tree. Medea Pryce & Leonore Kaur are Anatole’s best friends, I owe them a post. Medea is a community organiser, and Leonore a therapist in training. Althea is his twin sister, and Navneet his eldest sibling (there’s seven Kaurs: Navneet, Sashi, Althea & Leonore, and Isha, Vaishnavi and Ashok). Navneet and Anatole end up together in one of his timelines.

Dear Vesuvia,

It is with the greatest regret that the Cassano of this City inform to the public that Aelius Anatole Radošević De Silva, Of The Cassano of Vesuvia, has passed away in the Lazaret on the date —.

Taking this time to mourn, while the Cassano and the Consul will remain in the city, striving to find a cure, we inform the city that Consul Valerius has taken the decision to close the doors of the Palazzo.

Due to sanitary measures, no funeral will be held.

Milenko & Amparo

Amparo sat in the middle of the stage of the closed theatre. She wanted to be alone, everyone’s energy threatening to drag her down and never bring her back again, down to a place where the sun does not rise. Not that it matters. The sun could rise a thousand times over, and she feels like she will never notice it again. Losing Anzano, her grandparent, was hard enough. Losing Anatole was unbearable.

Her Anatole deserved the brightest of requiems, and he will have silence, in a bitter city which will probably not mourn him. Not that she can hold it against them — but it still hurts, just like it hurt to feel him die. She always knows when people die.

“Vesuvia lost it’s last honest lover,” she tells no one.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting there, but she knows she must head back, and for the first time in forever, she dreads Death itself.

When she comes back, she finds Milenko sitting on Anatole’s piano, crying.

Valerian

Valerian Cassano spent three days siting in the winter garden of the Palazzo after his great grandson died. He knew the biggest loss would always be for his parents, he had gone through that long before they had to. Losing a child was something one never truly recovered of.

He remembers so clearly the first time he met that child: golden before his hair caught up with his personality, avid to learn, curious, ambitious, resolved, more intelligent than most people he’s met. He reminded him of Vitale, his father in law.

Sometimes, if you spoke to the dead, they would listen, so he tried his luck: “Elysian, my dearest friend, take care of him. Do what we could not.”

Cassiopeia

Cassiopeia Cassano considered herself a lot of things: dedicated, passionate, fair, reserved, thoughtful. Brave... bravery was something she was beginning to doubt in herself. Seeing your parent die of a disease as invasive as the plague could do that to a person — seeing someone like Anatole, with his vitality of a thousand suns, could cement it a little deeper in oneself.

Cassiopeia didn’t like endings, they were predictable and inevitable and, sometimes, unfair. At least Amparo was back, and she didn’t have to worry about wherever she was and if she would be safe.

A door opened and closed behind her. She turned to find Iris, her spouse.

“How is Lele?”

“She’s eating, at least.”

“And Lenko?”

“Lenko doesn’t want to see anyone.”

“How... how is...”

“Louisa and Vlad? Please don’t make me answer that.”

“And Va—”

“Don’t.”

Her eyes swelled with tears. Holding her own forehead, she began to cry. Iris sat with her, holding her free hand and kissing her knuckles.

“He rearranged the filing system for the Council by himself— he—” a hiccup, “he had so many plans—”

“I know.”

“He was drafting a social reform for—”

“I know.”

“I’m never going to see him walk around with his coffee, nor terrorise the Praetor. I’m never going to see him— I’m never—”

“I know, my love, I know.”

“He would’ve been a wonderful Consul, Iris.”

Iris’ voice trembled. “I know.” They held Cassiopeia closer. The only thing they could think about was how that could’ve been Amparo.

Mircea & Florentino

“Florence?” Mircea Radošević said, looking and sounding lifeless. “Do you want something to eat?”

“No.”

Mircea understood. He didn’t either.

Medea & Leonore

She’s cried too much to be properly angry, but no matter what she does, no matter how much she pets Leonore’s hair she keeps silently crying, snot threatening to make her unable to breathe alltogether. She’s tired, exhausted, and miserably, dreadfully alone. She feels alone in this world like she hasn’t in years. Leonore has his forehead on her forearm, and a hand on his third glass of spiced whiskey. The only reason why he stopped drinking was because he began crying again.

Medea used to think nothing was enough of a hit to fully break Leonore. He had that quality about him: feelings came, they went, and he sat with discomfort running rampant, only to build up after it was gone with a smile on his face.

Not any more.

Leonore sobbed pitifully, choking on his own cries.

After he finally managed to calm down, he looked at her: “How the fuck will I tell Navneet? How am I telling Althea.”

She began crying again. “I don’t know, Leo — I don’t have the slightest fucking idea.”

“Fucking— How the fuck am I going to wake up tomorrow if he’s, if he—”

“I don’t know, Leo... I really don’t know.”

Antupillán

Antu searched the entire city for Anatole, only not to find him anywhere.

He had gone where Antu couldn’t follow, so he did the only thing he could think of: he went back to Anatole’s room, made himself a lair in his wardrobe, and feel asleep.

If you paid enough attention, you could hear him weeping.

Vlad & Louisa

Aelius Anatole, his son, had come into the world at dawn to seal the lesson that Louisa had brought into his life: that if he knows what love is, it is because they exist. He had nicknamed him Lily because he had always been little, shorter than the other kids, yet somehow stood taller, brighter. He figures all parents think the same of their children.

His son came into the world at dawn. Vlad will never know at what time he left it. He will never know if he was scared. He will never know if the fever kept him lucid. He will never have a body to hold, just like he used to before, when Anatole still asked to be tucked in, demanding to be given a hand to tug on while he fell asleep.

He will have no stories to tell him, he will have no more hallway dances to see him dance, no more dreams, no more smiles.

Death has taken so much from him, all he feels is rage. For the first time in years, he wishes he had died too, but he has a wife, and he can’t leave her alone.

Louisa De Silva never expected to have any children, nor she expected her only son to be taken away from her. She thinks, no, she knows she will feel hollow for the rest of her life, that nothing ever will be the same: happiness will be a ghost of what it used to be. Food will taste blander than before. Joy will be watered, and laugh will take a long vacation never to return.

That Anatole is now with her sister is no consolation at all. She’s always loved Paris, but right now, she’s envious of her. Wherever it is that they are, if there is such a place, her sister will get to hold her son while she didn’t have a chance to even see him die. She holds the arm of the chair she’s sitting in until her knuckles go white. She feels like fainting.

Incompetent and despotic rulers have taken so many things from her: her family home, her parents when they sent her away, and now, while a different tyrant, the offence is the same, worse even, because they too have taken her son.

Louisa De Silva, mother of Aelius Anatole, is a doctor: she doesn’t need to be told all of this was preventable, but it was her son the one who paid the price.

Valerius

“Uncle! Uncle! Look at what I learnt today in my fencing lessons!” Anatole was 8 then.

“Uncle? Was that your boyfriend?” Anatole, aged 9, hanged from a tree branch to ask him that question.

“Uncle!” He had screamed of joy at 11, running to him in the Palazzo after Valerius moved permanently to Vesuvia.

Dearest Uncle, he had written at 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20.

“Valeriy,” he had called him not two weeks ago, still so sure they would endure this. They are Radošević’s, they are Cassanos, the are Vesuvians but also Balkovian: that meant whatever life threw their way, they survived it.

Or they were.

Valerius feels a knot on his throat: he doesn’t have Anatole’s resolve, his progressive ideas, he doesn’t have his hope, and whatever amount of those he had himself, they died with him. They died with him, giving his life away for a city which would never appreciate him, which would never value him like he did. They did not deserve the soil of Anatole’s shoes and now he’s dead. The boy had given them summer without them asking, a summer which was snatched away from him: Anatole had slipped from his grip like sun-rays between his fingers.

The world should stop without him. That it didn’t was an act of cruelty Valerius would never forgive, even if resentment poisoned him. No amount to lying to himself will change the fact his Aelius died, that he failed his brother in protecting him, that he will have no successor, no one to pass the Consulship to, and that no one will ever be worthy.

A year later, he will watch the Count burn in his bed, and he will smile: Good, he will think, If Anatole did not get to live, then neither should you.

#arcana eotp #the arcana #echoes of the past: anatole #one day i'll catch up but this came to me and i had to hurt my feelings with it #my writing #milenko #amparo cassano #valerian cassano #mircea radosevic #florentino cassano #vlad and louisa #beautiful powerful and stubborn as a ram #leonore #medea #cassiopeia cassano #iris ravella-cassano

20 notes · View notes

callmeblake · 4 years

Photo

Posted to Frank’s blog on the My Chemical Romance website November 22nd, 2010 the day Danger Days: The True Lives Of the Fabulous Killjoys was released.

Transcription below the cut:

HAPPY DANGER DAY!

Submitted by Frank on November 22, 2010 - 11:59pm

HELLo Friends, Happy Danger Day!

I cant believe it's finally here. It's hard for me to express in words alone how excited we are that this record is finally being unleashed upon the world. All of our hard work, blood, sweat, and fears released into the atmosphere for your collective amusement. It was an arduous journey to say the least and yes, there were some casualties... at times it seemed the record itself would not get out alive. But as long and difficult as the process became, it was always twice as much fun and definitely worth our while.

Over the past few months we have been asked on many different occasions to describe what kind of album we were making. The descriptions changed over time, as did the record. At first our instinct was to write a love letter to rock and roll, an entity that inspired us and gave us the opportunity to express our true selves. We later found out the best way to love rock and roll was to set out to destroy it, and the record then became a missile pointed directly at the genre. Today when I listen back to what was captured on those uncommonly cold summer evenings in California, I hear a band growing up, evolving, fighting back, and having the time of their lives doing so. Danger Days is the soundtrack to raging against the death of the creative spark.

We are a generation told not to try too hard. The world is going to shit, so why break a sweat? We are reminded daily not to trust our gut or follow our hearts, your dreams are unattainable and unrealistic... the band almost fell victim to this "just good enough" mentality and would have never been able to forgive ourselves. You, the fans, deserved better and us as artists deserved better.

Fear is the eternal enemy. If they can keep you scared, they can keep you controlled. We too came face to face with this saboteur, and found the strength to break through and carry on. We are here as a reminder that the world is not better off without you...these are dangerous days we live in and you, the artists, are our last defense.

Art is the Weapon.

Your Imagination is the Ammunition. Stay Dirty, and Stay Dangerous. Create and Destroy as you see fit. Embrace your Originality. The Aftermath is Secondary. You can and should do Anything.

In conclusion friends, if you take anything away from this record, please let it be the strength to be passionate.

Love what you do and who you truly are. Be willing to die for it. If you are true to yourself, you can never go wrong. And remember when life gives you lemons, MCR says start a fucking band.

xofrank

#frank iero #frank's blog #november 2010 #2010 #this is my birthday post #happy danger day

20 notes · View notes

ispyspookymansion · 3 years

Note

28-42

28. five songs to describe you?

runs in the family (amanda palmer), body terror song (ajj), young and doomed (fiatfv), early sunsets over monroeville (mcr), saint bernard (lincoln)

29. best way to bond with you?

pspsps let me tell u about my current interest please listen to me talk excitedly about my current interest

30. places that you find sacred?

the cottage i go to every summer, the backyard at my grandparents old house, any playground at night

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

my red and black tripp pants, red tank top, black mesh shirt, thick chained choker, and my huge platform boots

32. top five favorite vines?

so no head?, you better watch out you better watch out you b, i want to see my little boy (here he comes), aw fuck i cant believe youve done this, lets tell each other secrets i’ll go first i HATE you

33. most used phrase in your phone?

what does “phrase in your phone” mean…..i say literally all the time now maybe that

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

animal crackers in my soup monkeys and rabbits loop the loop aka the shirley temple box set

35. average time you fall asleep?

1 or 2 am

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

i came into the internet around the time of doge memes in the vein of much ____ wow so ____, thats what comes to mind rn

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

suitcase bc i can pack better that way

38. lemonade or tea?

tea !!

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

lemon cake <3

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

probably the racism controversy but more lightheartedly the bats in the library

41. last person you texted?

kaia of jortsbian fame !

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

i love when my pants have big pockets like go girl give us everything

send weird asks!

#thank u abby mwahhhhhh #asks #liatwatiaatweb #ask memes #long post

1 note · View note

i-will-physically-fight-you · 4 years

Text

Gibbous Chapter 8

Chapter Title: One Swallow Does not Make a Summer

Summary: It’s fine. Everything is fine. (It really isn’t)

Pairings: platonic lamp, platonic sleepxiety lets finally be honest with ourselves

Chapter Word-Count: 6024

Warnings: unresolved grief, past minor character death, panic attack, crying, panic/anxiety, emotional abuse/gaslighting, dissociation

Previous | Present | Next

AO3 Link

Hi, apparently I don’t know how to write 2k chapters anymore, guys I’m sorry. Special thanks to @theeternalspace for her continued support for this AU in terms of brainstorming/cheering me on and to @stillebesat who beta’d this chapter, helping point out plot inconsistencies & grammar stuff.

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

“Hey Virgil, it’s time to get up.”

Virgil grumbled, shifting in his bed, “Don’t wanna.”

A chuckle, “Are you sure? Your dad is making his world-famous pancakes. Better get up before he eats them all himself.”

“Pancakes?” Virgil asked, looking up at last at his mother. Her dark hair was pulled into a loose side ponytail rather than her typical bun. Little curly wisps escaped the ponytail, kindly framing her face. She wore a yellow sweater with a goofy sloth face on it, something that was definitely his father’s.

“I knew that would get your attention, my little poet.” She grinned, affectionately booping his nose.

“Moooom,” Virgil groaned, because he was nearly thirteen and entering preteen angst. He was too old for boops and cutesy nicknames. His parents didn’t quite seem to get the memo just yet.

Mom kept smiling at him, wide and bright. Like she knew something he didn’t.

“What?” Virgil demanded, tilting his head sideways in confusion.

“Oh nothing,” She said, hands gently cusping the sides of his face, “I’m just thinking of how old you’re getting and how proud I am of you.”

“For what?” Virgil asked, confused by her words. He knew his parents loved him. They often proclaimed that with words and hugs. He could take being loved. But being proud of him? That was a completely new territory. He hadn’t done anything to earn this sentiment. He wasn’t the Grade A Student or the Star Athlete. He was just Virgil. An anxious preteen who liked listening to MCR. He didn’t get why his mom would be proud of that.

“Because you never give up, regardless of what life throws at you.” Mom said softly before pressing a kiss to his forehead, “I love you, Virgil.”

“Love you too,” Virgil mumbled, cheeks burning as he threw his arms around Mom for a quick hug. Never gave up? He wasn’t sure if that aptly described him. He felt like a colossal coward, one who always ran from his problems rather than face them. Maybe he’d managed to trick his parents into thinking otherwise. A pang of guilt hit him from that thought. Like a dodgeball during recess. Still, he couldn’t deny the warm, grateful feeling that crept inside of him.

Virgil withdrew from the hug and leapt out of his bed. When he reached the doorway, he paused to turn back at his mother, “C’mon! We have to go downstairs before Dad eats all the pancakes, remember?”

“Oh yes,” His mother said, following behind him, “how could I ever forget that?”

As they descended down the stairs, Virgil could hear pancake batter sizzling and his father’s attempts at singing.

“Just a small town giiiiirl, living in a lonely wooooorld!”

Virgil loved his dad, just as much as his mom. He loved how enthusiastic the man could be. His dad put his whole heart into everything he did. Even if he wasn’t great at them. It was an admirable quality to be sure. It still didn’t mean Virgil didn’t wince a tiny bit from his dad’s screechy singing.

“Please make it stop,” Virgil whispered underneath his breath.

His mom shook her head, looking more amused than anything else. He supposed it had something to do with how they first met doing a duet at a karaoke bar. He heard the story a gazillion times by now, but it never got old. Especially with his father adding new details every iteration. His mom would hover nearby, correcting him in an exasperated but loving way.

“Hello Dearest.” Mom said, startling Virgil out of his thoughts. He looked up to see they were already in the kitchen. Huh. He must’ve gotten lost in his thoughts or something.

Dad gasped, putting a hand to his chest in a playful offended way, “Love, is that my sweater?!”

Virgil’s mom easily towered him by a few good inches. Some people made fun of Virgil’s parents because of that. They said it was weird for the woman to be the taller one in a relationship. Virgil never understood that arbitrary reasoning. Not when his father looked up at his mother like she was his whole universe. His whole sun, moon, stars and everything.

“Is it? I found it lodged in my drawer. Almost like someone hastily stuffed it in there without paying attention to which dresser they placed it in.”

His dad spluttered at a loss for words and Virgil snorted. He couldn’t help it. Not when his dad was a walking, breathing cartoon character. Anyone could read him like a book from his facial expressions alone. He kept spluttering, his eyebrows nearly flying off his face and eyes as wide as saucers. One unsubtle wink directed towards Virgil told him that it was mostly an act on his part.

“Well, uh, may I offer you in some….pam-cakes?” His dad asked, redirecting the topic from his haphazard attempt at house cleaning.

Pamcakes. A pun on his mother’s name—Pamela. Oh my god, he said that every time. His mom always rolled her eyes at it, lips pressed together to keep from smiling. She was supposed to be the stoic foiling his comedic. Yet it fooled nobody at all. It was why his dad did it every time, knowing she secretly loved it.

Mom rolled her eyes as always before leaning down to accept a kiss from him, “You may.”

“Really? Right in front of my pancakes?” Virgil said, pretending to gag. As a growing preteen, it wasn’t cool to have your parents be all mushy in front of you. Even if he still thought of them as the coolest Mom and Dad ever. They chuckled, breaking off the kiss.

“Virgil, someday you will find someone you love very much and then you’ll understand why I am obligated to kiss your mother every time I see her.” His father grinned, flipping the last set of pancakes on the griddle.

“No I won’t, because kissing is gross.” Virgil said, childishly sticking his tongue out because technically he was still a child.

“Afraid of catching cooties?” Mom teased.

“I know those aren’t real, Mom.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain of that,” His father said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “The Cootius Amor is a very real disease. I was under the affliction of it, suffering heart palpitations and an upset stomach. You know what saved me?”

“What?” Virgil asked, despite being suspicious that he knew the answer.

“Your mother!” He fake-swooned, taking the pancakes off the griddle and bringing them to the kitchen table. Mom snorted, trying to maintain a calm composure and failing.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I think you mean ridiculously in love with you.” Dad said, grinning widely when he managed to get an actual laugh from her this time. Then they kissed again, causing Virgil to groan yet again from the syrupy sweetness of it all. But he wouldn’t have any other way. This moment was perfect, a moment he could relive a million times. He knew this, because he had done so.

In this perfect idyllic moment a startling realization hit Virgil. Something he always inevitably realized. Something that he should’ve realized from the start. Something he wished wasn’t true. Because this moment, this shadow of the past, this wasn’t real. He hadn’t been twelve years old for awhile now. A decade almost. The same amount of time since he’d last seen his parents alive and in the flesh.

This was all just a dream.

God, every time he had this realization it hurt so much. Sometimes he was able to forget his parents were dead. He’d gotten very good over the years at distracting himself. The truth felt far-off in the distance, almost unreal. He envisioned them as simply being elsewhere. Too busy for him to call or visit. As much as that illusion hurt, it was better than simply accepting reality.

Other times, he was forced to be very cognizant of their deaths. The hole in his heart became an expanding void. One that threatened to engulf him whole. Those times he just wanted to lay in his room and just cry. Where all he wanted was their comforting embrace, their words of assurance. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t allowed that. It’d been almost ten years—you’d think by now he would be past the grief.

But accepting their deaths almost felt like a betrayal. Almost as if he believed they were still alive hard enough, then it’d come true. They would come find him and be a family again. If he accepted their deaths, they’d be lost to him forever. He knew it was stupid and didn’t make sense. It still didn’t stop him from trying.

As uncertain as Virgil lived his life, he’d always known without a doubt they loved him. When he made mistakes or failed, they didn’t berate him. Rather, they came alongside him to help him understand and grow past them. So of course fate snatched away the most important people in his short lifespan. He missed them so much.

This was what made dreams like this difficult. Because for a brief moment, everything was back to normal again. They were always so vivid too. He fell for it every single time. It was cruel to gain them back in this temporary sort-of way. As cruel reality crashed into him every time upon waking up. It made him simultaneously want to sleep forever and not at all.

“Virgil, are you with us, bud?”

A hand touched his shoulder, shaking it gently. Virgil didn’t feel it.

“Little poet, your dad and I had a talk regarding your birthday—”

“—tell you something—”

“Virgil, please listen—"

Virgil’s lungs seized up. His breaths came out short and shuddery like a car engine struggling to start. Tears stung his eyes as a harsh sob escaped him. Mom? Dad? He couldn’t hear their voices anymore. Nor was he sitting at the kitchen table, bright light streaming into the window. He laid on a soft surface, his surroundings dark and murky. He was awake.

Awake and with the wound of his dead parents ripped open again. He bit back another sob, sweeping the grief underneath a metaphorical rug. Just like his dad and his cleaning tactics. Maybe Virgil did take more after Dad than he thought he did.

He forced himself to breathe, taking in one shaky breath in at a time. He’d managed to get it mostly under control when an alarm blared. A loud, discordant sound of chaos in the midst of stoic silence. Virgil screamed in fright, hitting his head on something as he jolted forwards. Work—he had work today, didn’t he? Cathy was going to be upset if he was late again—wait no. That wasn’t right. He didn’t work there anymore.

The alarm wasn’t right either. It sounded different than the one on his phone. He glanced around the room, aptly thinking, “Well, this isn’t my room.”

It was dark to discern much, but the one key factor was the window. It had a thick shade better at blocking out sunlight than Virgil’s blanket-duct-taped-to-the-window solution. The bed was nicer, the bedsheet soft and not as threadbare worn as Virgil’s. Where was he?

He couldn’t remember. It was nothing but fuzzy tv static sizzling inside of his brain. Like someone changed channels and he didn’t have the remote to change it back. Oh god, please don’t tell him he drank too much and went home with a complete stranger. He couldn’t handle even the thought of it.

Something shifted above him, causing him to realize this was a bunk bed. It creaked as a blanket dropped to the floor. Or rather, a blanket containing a bundle of something.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Blanket Bundle muttered, slapping a blanket-covered appendage over the Alarm’s OFF button. Virgil inhaled sharply, causing Blanket Bundle’s attention to snap towards him. Fizzy, curly hair spilled out of the blanket, framing a very recognizable face; Remy. He stood there, black shades absent. Virgil had seen him without them before, of course, but it was weird.

He couldn’t shake the image of Remy with red eyes. Even though Remy currently stared at him with hazel eyes, an unidentifiable emotion within them. His eyebrows slightly raised, his lips curved downwards. Remy almost looked…worried. But then he cleared his throat and with it his expression changed at once.

“Hey Virge,” Remy greeted, casual and cool as usual, “How are you doing? Did you get good beauty sleep?”

Virgil hated that first question. It was too big and ambiguous. Way too much currently for his brain to grasp. Not to mention nobody truly cared about the answer to the question. It was just a thing people were required to ask others. As to the second question, well. He definitely didn’t get good beauty sleep. So he decided to answer neither of them.

“I’m hungry.” Virgil croaked, surprised by the hoarseness of his voice.

“Breakfast yes,” Remy nodded sagely, “The most important meal of the day. Follow me this way, my good homo sapien.”

“Homo sapien?”

“I’m practicing vocab terms for biology,” Remy rolled his eyes, “Like gurl, do not get me started on my biology professor. She’s part of the rhetoric that refuses to see vampires, homo sanguis, as anything but diseased homines. Like, I can’t even!”

He paused, as if waiting for a response. Virgil offered nothing but a blank stare in return. Something was wrong. He didn’t know what. He still couldn’t remember how he ended up at Remy’s dorm room.

There was also Remy’s behavior to consider. The vampire was a flurry of activity as always. Never one to remain still if he could help it. He moved about the room, putting his sunglasses on as he ranted. Yet something rubbed Virgil the wrong way about it. Virgil couldn’t tell if he was reading into things but it was too fluid and smooth. Perfect to a degree that was unlike Remy’s usual chaotic brand of energy.

“Anyways,” Remy said, rolling his eyes, “I may be a ‘diseased human frothing at the mouth for blood’ but even I have learned some basic skills like cooking to blend in.”

“I don’t even know how to cook.” Virgil blurted out.

“Yeah well neither did Betsy back in the fifties but did that stop her from criticizing my prized quiche? Oh no!”

Virgil followed Remy into the small dingy dorm kitchen, still baffled as hell. As much as that confusion ramped up his anxiety, a small part of him wanted it to stay that way. It warned him he might not like the truth. In the same way he tried ignoring the reality of his parents’ death.

“So!” Remy said, rummaging through the cupboards, “What are you hungry for? Pancakes or omelets?”

“Omelet please.” Virgil muttered, barely withholding a shudder. He didn’t think he could stomach pancakes after that dream with his parents. He sat on a stool, his legs tucked close to his chest.

Remy, thankfully, didn’t comment on it.

“Good choice, my roommate would probably murder me if I took from his pancake mix. Even though he definitely drank the last of the OJ and left the jug in there, biiiiitch. Good thing he’s not here because I’d give a piece of my mind. He’s not getting away with that easily, no mad’m!”

He casted a look towards Virgil as if saying “Roommates am I right?” and Virgil forced a laugh. It was a pastime of theirs to complain about their roommates. Alongside with discussing their favorite bands, of course.

Remy cracked eggs against the frying pan, his mouth still going a mile a minute. He flipped from one topic to the next, never settling on one for long. There was a high pitch to his voice, an almost nervous energy to it. Like he was putting on a performance for Virgil. Something for him to take comfort and solace in. It grated on Virgil’s nerves. Virgil wanted to call him out on it. He wanted to demand Remy to cut it out. He wanted to know what was going on.

Yet, fear held him back. It clamped down on his throat, like a bear trap and refused to let go. It told him it was better to say nothing than to possibly risk inciting Remy’s ire. Even if Remy had never been angry with Virgil before, did he really want this to be the first time?

So he sat there, too foggy-brained and half-asleep to say something. Or at least, that was what he told himself. A small part of him appreciated the mindless chatter Remy provided. It was a distraction from the daunting feeling he was forgetting something important.

He went to pull out his phone. Just to check the time—maybe scroll through tumblr real quick. Nothing big. He slipped his hand into his pocket, coming into contact with something jagged. Not smooth.

The tv static in his mind dissipated. Crystal clear HD images flooded his mind. The text from Patton. Jerad jeering. The chase around the apartment. Jerad gripping his wrist, squeezing it tightly like a boa constrictor. Dangling over the street far below. So close to plunging to his death. His phone falling, falling, falling to the ground. Into a tiny million pieces. Virgil fleeing, panic pulsing through his veins. Remy? Remy was there. He comforted him. But none of that made any sense. Just like a dream. It had to be a dream. No, a nightmare.

….He had to wake up.

Wake up, wake up, wAKE UP!

“Virgil!”

Someone shouted something. His name? He couldn’t tell for sure over the raging storm of panic consuming him. Just like it did last night. No that wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. If he repeated that to himself, it’d come true. As true as his parents weren’t dead. Just simply…not around.

Burning. The smell of burnt food invaded his nostrils. He tasted something salty. Tears? He felt a wetness on his face. A hand rested upon his own, fingers thrumming against his knuckles. Singing. A voice low and strained. As if overcome by some sort of emotion.

“We’ll carry on, we’ll carry on, and though you’re dead and gone believe me—”

“Your memory will carry on.” Virgil croaked, causing the voice to stop.

He didn’t wake up. He still sat on the kitchen stool. Only now Remy sat beside him. His expression indiscernible due to his sunglasses. The broken pieces of his phone still dug into his hip. Virgil always found reality more frightening than nightmares could ever be. At least you could escape nightmares. You couldn’t do that with reality. At least not as easily. Virgil swallowed.

“Remy?”

“Yeah?”

“I think the eggs are burning.”

“Well fuck the eggs,” Remy scowled, expression softening as he squeezed Virgil’s hand, “Right now the only thing I care about is making sure you’re okay.”

The intensity of Remy’s words spooked Virgil a bit.

“Well, maybe you should turn the burner off? Just in case it starts a fire?” Virgil suggested weakly.

Remy stared at him for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly and rose to do just that. He leaned against the counter, facing Virgil once more. His lips twitched downwards but he otherwise maintained a blank exterior.

“Virgil, are you gucci?”

“I’m fine.” Virgil said before he could even think.

“Are you sure of that, hun?” Remy said, raising an eyebrow, “because I found outside my dorm last night and you didn’t know who I was at first. And then—just now…”

“Wait, you found me outside your dorm?” Virgil gaped.

He didn’t pick a particular destination when he started running. He just ran and ran, the world one big blurry ball of nothingness. Did he subconsciously run to Remy, hoping to receive comfort? What did that say about him? For being so needy and dependent on Remy? No wonder he seemed so upset!

“Virge, did someone hurt you?” Remy asked.

Virgil jolted, completely unprepared for this question. It seemed to come out of nowhere, not at all connected to the conversation at hand. Remy’s eyes drifted away from his face, looking at something in Virgil’s general vicinity. He followed Remy’s gaze to a purple splotchy bruise on his wrist, its tendrils spreading out like a spiderweb. No, a hand. Jerad’s hand. Squeezing like a claw machine and he the hapless stuffed animal trapped in its grip. Virgil’s breath hitched.

“Nobody, I—I just hit my hand against a doorknob, that’s all.”

Remy’s frown deepened. He stepped towards Virgil, who barely repressed a flinch. He looked away, unable to maintain eye contact. Not with the unusual ferocity that emanated from Remy.

“Vee, I’m serious,” Remy whispered, crouching beside him, “I don’t care who it is. If it’s that idiot pup again or even Boss Man. Tell me their name and I’ll beat them up for you.”

Virgil’s breath hitched. Remy was a vampire--one that happened to be centuries old. He’d known this, of course, for some time now. But during that moment, the full weight of it Virgil. Even if Remy didn’t drink human blood now, he had to at one point. Right? Or at the very least, you don’t live that long without committing some violence acts. Did he really know the real Remy?

Paranoia aside, he couldn’t fight other what-ifs attacking him. What if Jerad hurt Remy? What if Jerad found out about Remy’s a vampire? What if Virgil caused the death of his first true friend in a decade?

“N—no one. It’s no one, Rem, I swear,” Virgil said, fear coiling around him like a python, “It’s just sometimes, I get panic attacks. L—like they suck and stuff, but there’s nothing I can really do about it.”

He snuck a gaze up at the vampire, heart hammering away at his chest. Remy’s eyes peered above his sunglasses, narrowed. Remy didn’t believe him. He didn’t need verbal confirmation, he just knew it. Virgil gripped the side of the breakfast bar, searching. Looking for something, anything to help him escape this conversation. A clock. One of those digital ones that contained both the date and time. Tuesday, 9:51AM.

“Okay I won’t—”

“I have to go.” Virgil interrupted, shooting up from the stool. So abruptly that the stool fell onto the floor with a crash. “I—I’m going to be late. I’m supposed to be at work by now—oh my god Logan’s gonna kill me.”

“Wait!” Remy stepped in front of him, “I think you should play hooky.”

“What?” Virgil said, one decimal away from screeching.

“Call out of work,” Remy suggested, “Logan will understand. He’s not that bitch Cathy. And if he doesn’t, I’ll make him.”

For a second he saw the flash of someone else in Remy’s place. A huge, hulking silhouette. A shudder ran through Virgil’s spine. He moved away from Remy, shaking his head.

“No, no, it’s fine—I’ll be fine. I have to go. I just—” Virgil took off, unable to finish that sentence without a sob escaping.

He ran out of the dorm, out of the university campus and to the city beyond. He ran, running from his problems like always.

“Virgil!”

He shrieked, halting to a complete stop. Remy was there, almost as if he just appeared. Out of thin air, no less. Because with Virgil’s head start, he shouldn’t have been able to get to his side so easily.

“What, Remy?” Virgil snapped, hands forming fists at his sides. He couldn’t do this, not now.

Remy didn’t recoil. His sunglasses fully covered his eyes, masking his expression again. Instead he offered something black and soft towards Virgil. A black jacket, one Virgil never saw him wear before.

“It’s always pretty chilly in the library, you know.” Remy shrugged, looking away.

Virgil saw through Remy’s words. He was offering him a way to hide the bruise from visible view. Something that hadn’t crossed Virgil’s mind, really.

“Thanks.” Virgil swallowed, taking the jacket. He slipped it on and left without saying anything else.

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

When he slammed Logan’s office door open, he expected to be faced with lots of angry lecturing for his tardiness. He did not expect concern and understanding from Logan. Like, at all. Somehow that scared him more than the alternative. Why was Logan being so lenient with him?

Sure, today was a fluke. He was usually great at being there on time. A tiny bit of him was relieved about it after everything. The rest of him held its breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. While it didn’t exactly drop just yet…well. The black jacket Remy gave him hadn’t completely worked.

“Virgil, who gave you that bruise?” Logan asked, staring into the depths of his very soul.

He’d freaked out at that question. Just like Remy, but worse. He spoke sharply to a werewolf who growled at him just seconds prior. Logan had been upset to see that bruise—just like Remy. Most people appreciated others showing an interest in their wellbeing. Not Virgil. It terrified him for reasons he didn’t quite understand himself.

The rest of work resumed as usual. Virgil drowned himself in the mundanity. The only thing that existed in the entire world was the library. His whole purpose? Working the front desk. Helping patrons the best he could. Sorting and putting books away. Telling a rowdy studying group to quiet down. Before he knew it, he was clocking out for the day.

That was when everything threatened to fall apart. He didn’t have anywhere to spend the night. He couldn’t crash at Remy’s again. Because if he asked Remy, then the vampire would really know something was up. When it wasn’t, not really. Just a spat between roommates. Sure, it ended in a broken phone, but it could’ve been worse. Like falling to one’s death—

Virgil took a deep breath as he walked the front entrance of the library. His movements stiff and mechanical. As if someone else was manipulating him to walk like strings to a puppet. He could do this. He just had to take things one step at a time. Literally.

Step one, leave the library. Simple, easy. He could do that. Once outside, he’d figure out the rest. Step two? Find somewhere to stay the night. Less easy.

The library’s automatic doors slid open and the last bright, brilliant rays of the sunset greeted him. A swarm of blackness attacked him next. He jerked backwards, hands automatically reaching to grapple with the thing that caused it. He stared down, eyes stinging, at a very familiar black plaid hoodie.

“You actually caught it! I thought you’d fumble it like a dumbass.”

Virgil stopped breathing; Jerad. He stood there, hands haughtily crossed against his chest. Had he been waiting outside for Virgil? And if so, for how long? Virgil couldn’t take him on in a fight. He had to flee—run back into the library. He didn’t move. He remained rooted to the spot, muscles locked in place as Jerad advanced. To pummel him, or worse yet—kill him.

All color left his face as Jerad raised his arms and…hugged him? Or at least Jerad’s version of a hug. A tight, vindictive squeeze that Virgil had grown used to over the years. It still did nothing to diminish the fear swelling inside of him.

“Aww man, you should see your face! You look like you thought I was gonna punk ya!” Jerad crowed as he released Virgil.

“I—you—the phone.” Virgil stammered, unable to form complete sentences. Jerad didn’t get angry. He just laughed, slapping Virgil’s back in what was a friendly gesture. Virgil winced despite it.

“Oh that! Shit man, you know I don’t really mean anything when I lose my temper. I just can’t control it, ya know?”

Virgil silently nodded, unable to trust his voice in the moment.

“Besides, that thing was old and already falling apart! You know what you need? The latest greatest current smartphone out there! My treat!”

“Wha—” Virgil barely squeaked out before Jerad dragged him off to a cell-phone store. Jerad rambled about stuff on the way there. Virgil couldn’t hear him over the roaring of his heartbeat in his ears. He clung to his hoodie in one arm as if it was a stuffed animal. He couldn’t think. His mind was a myriad of white noise. This couldn't be real, right? He had to have fainted or something. Please let it be so.

“—huh, Virgil? What do you think of this one?” Jerad said, nudging him.

Virgil blinked, spooked to be faced with a display of smartphones. Somehow, they were already at the store. He bit his lip, eyes widening at the price tag.

“I—it’s—I don’t know,” He glanced over to a cheaper phone at the other end of the display, “I like that one.”

“C’mon Virgo! This one comes with a protective screen cover! That other one doesn’t,” Jerad scoffed, leaning in closer, “Do you really want another shitty phone that’ll break like your last one?”

Those words sparked a rage inside Virgil. A fire burned in the pit of his stomach as words materialized at the tip of his tongue. It was Jerad who threw the phone from a five-story balcony. Jerad who always mocked Virgil and acted like throwing money at the problem solved a situation when it didn’t. Not really. Jerad who insulted his friends. Virgil wanted to scream at the top of his throat obscenities at him.

“N-no.” Someone said out loud, shaky and uncertain.

Virgil jumped a bit at the sound, glancing to see who it was. It sounded familiar. He looked to see Jerad staring right at him, smirking. His stomach churned as a wave of realization crashed into him. Oh, oh. That had been him, he’d been the one to say that. But why? That had been the exact opposite of what he meant to say!

He didn’t have much time to process it before Jerad clasped him on the shoulder, chuckling.

“That’s what I thought! Lemme just—”

A loud obnoxious 80s rock song interrupted him. Jerad fished his phone out of his pocket, groaning upon seeing the caller id.

“Ugh, it’s my mom again. You’re lucky your parents are dead, Virgin, because they are so fucking annoying.” Jerad rolled his eyes, declining the call as he strode off to find a store associate.

Virgil stood there, withholding a flinch. Because he knew if his parents were still alive, they wouldn’t be proud of their son. They’d be absolutely repulsed by his cowardice.

He watched as Jerad chatted up the store associate, his back facing Virgil. If he couldn’t stand up to Jerad—this was it. This was his chance to flee. To run off while Jerad was distracted. Maybe he could run to Remy again. They could get an apartment together, away from both their annoying roommates. They’d laugh together and watch awful movies for the sake of ridiculing them.

They’d be the best of friends until Remy grew sick of him. Until Virgil became annoying and obsolete to discard like an old flip-phone. Remy was immortal, just like Patton and Logan. It was really all a matter of time before they confirmed his suspicions. They’d get tired of him. It happened. It always happened to everyone in Virgil’s life. Why wouldn’t it happen to them? They’ll eventually grow tired of him and he’ll become their next meal. He’d be an idiot to think any other way.

Virgil turned to look back down at the phone display. He swallowed, unable to dislodge the lump in his throat. His vision spun a bit, his stomach nauseous. He couldn’t move a muscle, just like a statue. Perhaps he could try becoming one. All they did was remain motionless all day and let pigeons poop on them. He’d be better at that than being a human being.

“Virgil!” A hand took hold of his shoulder, forcibly turning his body around to face a new direction. Virgil glanced briefly down to see he was still flesh-and-blood. Not a ivory stone statue, free of all his troubles and misery.

“Virgil, this is Jeff,” Jerad said, gesturing to the store associate, “He’s gonna help with getting your new swanking, danking phone!” Jerad fist-pumped the air, letting out a whoop.

Virgil locked eyes with the poor slightly frazzled store associate named Jeff and did a small nod of recognition. As if to say, “I’m sorry to be the cause of your agony.”

He knew what it was like to deal with customers like Jerad. He hated knowing it was his fault they were in the phone store in the first place. Virgil sharply exhaled, eyes blinking rapidly to stop the tears from forming. If he couldn’t keep himself from crying then he was truly pathetic.

His awareness grew blurry, almost foggy. His body moved out of its own accord, nodding along to the conversation and following after Jerad. Normally this type of thing would’ve freaked him out. Given all the panic already present in his body, it might’ve killed him on the spot. Instead he couldn’t bring himself to feel the twinges of anxiety. Or frustration, anger, disgust. Nothing. A numbness took hold of him, wrapping around him in a cold embrace.

Jerad purchased the new phone, true to his word. He fiddled with it on the walk back to the apartment, ogling over its features. Virgil’s legs faithfully kept walking, each step closer to the apartment. His heart beat right on time, his breaths slow and even.

“Let’s take the stairs, get some exercise in today.” Jerad suggested and Virgil’s head jerked in agreement. They took the stairs, five flights and all. Virgil wheezed at the end of it. The pain of getting insufficient oxygen made him feel alive again for the briefest of moments. It ended sharply with Jerad laughing as he patted Virgil’s back.

“I see someone skipped leg day!”

A feeble imitation of a laugh croaked from Virgil’s lips. Jerad shoved his key into their apartment door and unlocked it. Virgil followed him in. Jerad stopped abruptly in the middle of the living room, causing Virgil to almost run into him. He turned around, the new phone clasped in one hand.

“Hey man,” Jerad began, offering the phone toward Virgil, “we cool?”

Virgil spat in his face.

Or at least that sounded better than what actually happened.

“Yeah, thanks.” Virgil said. He took the phone from Jerad and headed off to his room.

He sat on his crappy bed, swaddled in his raggedy purple blanket. He looked at the phone, at its glossy smooth screen. It was fine. Everything was fine. Virgil had just overreacted, that was all.

Jerad was not that bad of a guy. He was a jerk, yes. He liked to jerk Virgil at times, get inside his head. He was the jerk that threw Virgil’s phone down a five-story balcony. But he was a jerk who made up by purchasing a brand new one. The phone currently in Virgil’s hand.

His old phone couldn’t compare with this one. Not with its cracked screen and bad battery. This new phone had the latest technological achievements and best camera lens. He wouldn’t have this if it wasn’t for Jerad.

It didn’t stop him from wanting his old phone back. He’d felt so proud to own it after scraping and saving for it. It was dumb but he’d named it Taran and treated it almost like a friend, no more than that. A lifeline that got him through life no matter what punches it threw at him.

It was okay. He knew eventually it’d break on him. It didn’t matter how it broke in the end. Really, it didn’t. He just needed to move on and stop mourning an inanimate object. Maybe he could name this new phone Taran II in remembrance or something. It was fine.

Virgil kept staring down at the phone, into his reflection in the phone-screen. He looked past greasy hair and dark eyebags into dull, defeated eyes.

He threw the phone onto the ground, unable to bear the sight any longer. He curled up in his bed, head firmly pressed against his pillow, and cried.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #remy sanders #logan sanders #kat writes #did i recycle a previous scene from the previous chapter into this one?#yes #shh

84 notes · View notes

ominous-friday · 4 years

Photo

Tagged by @deacons-wig ! Here’s the link to do yours if you want to!

I tried to do as they did and pick formative faves I still listen to. Boy was it hard to narrow that down to only 7 albums. I could probably do this two more times w just that in mind, but anywho...

Queens of the Stone Age - Self Titled

Interpol - Antics

Cake - Fashion Nugget (aka my soundtrack for the summer of 2011)

Fiona Apple - The Idler Wheel Is Wiser Than the Driver of the Screw and Whipping Cords Will Serve You More Than Ropes Will Ever Do

Chelsea Wolfe - Ἀποκάλυψις (Apokalypsis)

Neutral Milk Hotel - In The Aeroplane Over the Sea (I know I’m basic)

Garbage - Bleed Like Me

Fiona is probably the earliest of these. She has a way of making you feel like you’re sitting in a room with your own heart, and like Gaga said recently there’s no border between her and her music and it shows. QotSA is still one of my favorite bands.

I’ve seen Chelsea live and I would again in a heartbeat, in better company and in darker clothes. (Imagine the gothiest crowd you can with two hipster ass normies in the middle, that was us. You may laugh.)

Some very strong runners up:

Gorillaz - Demon Days

My Chemical Romance - I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love (or literally any of their albums tbh it was too hard to pick so I didn’t)

Leonard Cohen - The Essential Leonard Cohen (compilation album so I wasn’t sure it “counts”)

Rammstein - Sehnsucht (skipped for similar reasons to MCR)

I’m bad at tagging so anyone that wants to please do! I want to see 👀

#tune tag #you have great taste btw bun

3 notes · View notes

notwhoiwanttobeyet · 3 years

Text

tumblr journal [1]

NOTE: hi pLeasE don’t read this. this is just a way of coping with my mental illnesses. this is completely unedited, highly personal and i stRonGLy advise you look away. i hope you’re having a good day! happy holidays :)

also don’t mind the spotify links along the way; just some songs i almost or did cry to while writing this

tw: suicidal thoughts, anxiety attacks, (breast) cancer

hey tumblr,

it’s been a while since i’ve really vented. a lot of us use tumblr as a copying mechanism (me included) and i think it’s important i evaluate my current situation and break things down.

https://open.spotify.com/track/1WVunZLZM2zLTm5rAvKZkF?si=a94u_JAsRX2VCWOD6z4l-Q

exam season is over; i’m on summer break. and that’s great. no more school. no more exams and assignments and testing and all that FUCKING BULLSHIT THAT THE SYSTEM PUTS US THROUGH. i’m sorry, i’m trying to stay calm but it’s so fuckiNg hard. i’m literally going to cry i- so yeah, as we know, towards the end of the year school fucked me over and i really, reaLLY, REALLY wanted to die. so when school finished i was like “oh i must be all good now, right?” but i wasn’t. i was left feeling so numb, to be completely honest (and cliche).

then i got sick which was soooo fucked. apparently a lot of people who went to our small friend kris kringle gathering got sick which sucks but because i spent so much of this year in isolation, i forgot what it felt like to be sick and oh bOY it fucking sucked. i over exaggerated because i’m sensitive and wanted to die. i was sick for like a week and my parents quarantined me because my mum is recovering from a breast cancer surgery and couldn’t afford to get sick so i was like locked in my room- on my own- which yeah, i do anyway but this felt sooo different. this felt like, completely fuckEd because my parents were wearing masks around the house and would leave food in my doorway, etc. i felt like a complete MONSTER to the people i love. i also obviously couldn’t hug them or anything, leaving me touch starved and ugh- it just wasn’t a great experience.

also my mum is recovering fine and stuff but it’s an emotional fucking time for everyone and i’m so stupid i haven’t told anyone about my mum being sick and all. like people don’t ask why i’m acting up because i’m ALWAYS acting up. i’m always sensitive and angry and having mood swings. that’s just me, being mentally ill. so no one asks why i’m worried. my mum has/had BREAST CANCER- brooo. she’s had one surgery which went well and will most likely have to have chemo and/or radiation in the coming year. we get the results back after christmas. so that’s a thing.

i have a secure group of friends which i’ve always wanted, but it doesn’t feel right. it never feels right. like today the three of us went shopping and THEY WENT CRAZY- i was so stressed and had literally like 6 different mental breakdowns in the 2 hours we were out. they were bumping into people, running around, trying on every item of clothing ironically in every store. that shit stresses me out. and there’s nothing wrong with that- they’re good people and they’re not doing anything wrong really - it’s just normal teenage stuff. but i’m note normal, i’m super anxious and everyone was looking at us and it made me sooo uncomfortable. like- i could elaborate more but thinking about it hurts. i felt like i was their mum or something, shepherding them around and making sure they didn’t break anything else. they- UGH// they broke a perfume bottle and rudely ran away from a teacher i have a good reputation with. like i said, they’re just normal teenagers but it fucks me up. it’s not them, it’s me. on the bright side i saw this same lesbian couple i saw the other day again :) i never see wlw or mlm couples in public really so it makes me soo happy when i see them :) i also saw this girl in an unnus annus hoodie and i was gonna say something but i’m too *anxious* so i just stared at her until she looked at me weirdly and i ran out of the store. oH and there was a girl in an mcr shirt ahh-- she was really pretty but i was too busy running it was a whole thing like my mum was coming to pick me up and i had 10 minutes so i ran up from one end of the mall to the other and then upstairs to this store to but this fucking wonderwomen shirt and then i had to run all the way back and i’m not the most athletic to say the least and i wanted to CRY but yeah. what did i learn today? people aren’t for me. friends aren’t for me. and again i know i’m built to be alone.

https://open.spotify.com/track/7wTqEW5nrMhvyEhEyTnOMd?si=ata2BwOPQji3twov9wTZWg

i’m really thirsty. ew not like tha- i fucking hate society

cinnamon rolls not gender rolls. wait my friend got that on a poster let me see if i can find it,,,

yeah here it is ^^^^

also: my hair. i’m so happy having it the length it is but mAn i just- i just- i hate myself lol. like i don’t know what else to say. i think i’m ugly and every time i look in the mirror i want to cry, and it’s going to be like that forever so i need to just except that. i am ugly, i hate myself. like- bro come on. it’s been like this forever and it’s going to continue to be like this forever so i need to stop fucking crying over it.

https://open.spotify.com/track/05JtBVWRtSzqLoj7jj30kn?si=30W4pt7dT8G3cbzaUMqldw

oh my god this song i’m about to cry. this is what i want. why can’t i just be- not me!!!

these past few days i’ve literally been playing minecraft bed wars all day. like all day. and it was okay but now my eyes hurt and my head hurts and my hands hurt and i hate myself and everything hurts.

also- music doesn’t feel right. it’s been like this for a while now, it’s getting better though. before i couldn’t listen to any music at all - now i’ve been listening to kid krow on repeat : )

god bless you, conan. my number one song currently is *cough* E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY LIFE (which they are btw) which is- fucking terrifying and funny at the same time. i genuinely like CORPSE though- i’ve watched every among us stream and i love his songs- in the past i would have considered myself a simp (?) maybe (?) but i had a nightmare about it and i can’t awifjisenf simp no more. i still appreciate him, i just- had an awakening.

sexuality crises also suck a whole bunch. there was a 1-2 day phase a few weeks ago where i was low key PRAYING to be a lesbian lmfao. like it sounds stupid but i was crying over that shit. background info: no i’m not one of those straight girls, i’m a bisexual female who’s almost a full on raging homosexual except i am attracted to men. and i wish i wasn’t, believe me when i say that. but i have realised i am bi so it’s okay. i thought i was a lesbian and awilfjnawr labels but no, i am slightly attracted to men sometimes. but to answer your question if i am lucky enough my future wife and i will be married and living in a cottage.

ugh. life. bru h i’m actually a train wreck- i had an anxiety attack crying trying to find my childhood tinkerbelle and friends dolls the other night. and then to make matters worse, i found them in a box with a whole bunch of other dolls in the same box including StRawBerrY ShoRtCaKe doLLs and i smelt my stawberry shortcake doll hesitantly while crying and she still smelled like her strawberry scent and i was DEAD.

https://open.spotify.com/track/1F6IbA7di42uPc3cff8PXV?si=COKcG_UbQh-GhKYJ5vtIgg

ugh. so this has been my update so far. oh wait-

christmas. holy shit how is it christmas. i want dEatH like. reasons why i’m sad for christmas: it doesn’t feel like christmas so i feel like i’m not going to enjoy it, i’ve had no motivation to clean my room so the contents of my wardrobe is all over my floor because i was mid resorting the drawers when i got sick, i’ve wanted to ask for doc martens and my chemicals romance + other artists’ merch all year but i have SEVERE ANXIETY so of course i didn’t and now my parents have gone and bought me a new phone or something which of course i’m grateful for but my iphone 6s works just fine. it’s a waste of money which we need at the moment but because i’m too anxious i didn’t ask for anything this year so my parents have just chosen to spoil me and- aW SHIT! i can’t=

anyway so that’s my bullcrap life. i mean my bullshit rant. am i glad i did this? yes. do i feel any better? kinDa? i don’t know okay. what am i going to do now? i don’t know. probably lie on the floor and drown in self pity in hopes of melting into the abyss. i might read my book which i’ve yet to finish. maybe reading can be my knew things, seeing as i have zero hobbies. i read like once in a blue moon.

this is it for now, good luck, future me.

sincerely,

jordan ♡

https://open.spotify.com/track/7B3z0ySL9Rr0XvZEAjWZzM?si=HyWPKutjRTuPumafim7_Vw

1 note · View note

v-t-holmes · 4 years

Text

1D songs rated by how much I want to hear MCR cover them

wmyb - I’m actually lowkey wondering how that would sound tbh, 7/10

gotta be you - if gerard doesn’t have the vocal range for the chorus, I would rather have him not strain himself, 2/10, but if he does, 6/10, I’m intrigued

one thing - I wouldn’t mind a cover of this one, 4/10

more than this - ooh yes, but there’s a 90% chance i’d cry, 7/10

uan - the way this song is, an mcr cover would probably sound lit, 9/10

i wish - and make me cry and drown myself in tears? 3/10

tell me a lie - change screwed up to fucked up and it’s a deal, 6/10

taken - the only reason i don’t start feeling Sad while listening to this song bc I’m so used to it, if mcr covered it i would be Ugly Sobbing, 5/10

i want - okay that would sound lit, 7/10

everything about you - okay this song is kinda boring ngl, mcr could spice things up, 9/10

same mistakes - this one already gives me existential crisis without thinking about an mcr cover, 7/10

save you tonight - I’m indifferent, it would probably sound lit tho 5/10

stole my heart - dunno if it would work as well while being sung by a guy literally the same age as my mom as it does while being sung by a (in the recording) group of boys aged between 17 and 20 - 1/10

stand up - SO PUT YOUR HANDS UP COZ IT’S A STAND UP, basically it’s an armed robbery, 5/10

moments - the subtle hinting at the fact everyone in this song dies,, fun fact that would just instantly kill me, 100000000/10, I would Cry but it would be worth it

another world - I rather would not be taken to ‘another world’ ‘every day’ ‘in every way’ by mcr, thank you very much 0/10

na na na - the cover would be worth it just for the title confusion, so yes, yes please, 10/10

i should have kissed you - the regret in the original’s is not Expressed At All, 7/10, fuck me up mcr

lwwy - i mean it would probably sound good, but lets be real, mcr doesn’t exactly fit the vibe of this song, 4/10, just because it lowkey has danger days vibes (i listened to it three times in a row before, I know what vibes danger days has)

kiss you - i’m torn between the fact that this is targeted at teen girls and sang by barely not underage anymore boys, and the fact the cover would probably sound lit 5/10

little things - it’s,,, too soft for mcr,,, 0/10

c’mon c’mon - eh, I’m indifferent to that one, 5/10

last first kiss - this one gives me an existential crisis and makes me Sad already, 8/10

heart attack - just for the ow! part, and also for the 1D just doesn’t do emotions right in this one, 7/10

rock me - in summer ‘09, they were literal babies, I’m fairly certain 16 year old harry styles did NOT fuck, mcr did shit other than going to school in 2009, and they probably fucked and this song is just one big innuendo, 7/10

change my mind - ah another song that would probably make me cry, 6/10

i would - idk, a song about high school drama? 1/10

over again - stabbing me would be more merciful than an mcr cover, 10/10

back for you - this one hits differently when you hear 1D promising they’ll come back for the fandom, And with the reunion rumours going around, it wouldn’t sound right if mcr did a cover, 2/10

they don’t know about us - unlike the original, it would make me cry, because it remind me of my gf, 3/10, covers of songs that remind me of my gf that would make me cry are illegal

summer love - the 1D version didn’t kill me, but the mcr version definitely would, 5/10

she’s not afraid - I’m actually kinda curious about what the cover would sound like, 8/10

loved you first - another one I kinda want to hear mcr’s cover of, 7/10

nobody compares - this one is either boring or it’s getting late, either way, mcr would spice it up, 7/10

still the one - it’s a bop already, 5/10

truly madly deeply - soft and tender and,,, can mcr do soft and tender? I mean, probably, but their songs that sound soft and tender end up in people in the song dying, 2/10

magic -THERE’S A 99.99999% CHANCE THE MCR COVER WOULD BE LIT, 219833/10

irresistible - mcr’s cover would make me cry and i’d thank them 8/10

bse - despite the title, not the best song ever out there (home is the best), and mcr could definitely improve it, 8/10

soml - the chorus starts, but with more SCREAMING, 8/10, sometimes you just want a soft song to have more yelling

diana - could be good, but really, I’m indifferent to it, 5/10

midnight memories - the fact 1D says 'same old shhh' instead of 'same old shit' is so unsatisfying, mcr would fix that, 10/10

you & i - yeah, just make me cry or whatever, 6/10, I’m already feeling like a trainwreck

don’t forget where you belong - that would be nice but it would also make me cry, 7/10

strong - the intro keeps reminding me one of the mcr songs and idk which one, probably famous last words, and it’s bothering me, 5/10

happily - I have no objections to this one, 9/10

right now - it would probably make me cry too much to handle, 2/10

little black dress - I’m kinda curious about this one honestly, it’s already a lot more rock than some other songs and I wouldn’t mind a cover, 6/10

through the dark - idk why, but I would definitely pay for an mcr version of this song, 10/10

something great - this one already gives me Feelings, I don’t think I could handle the mcr cover, 1/10

little white lies - it’s an okay song but really, I don’t need an mcr cover of it, 0/10

better than words - mcr wouldn’t censor fuck, 5/10

why don’t we go there - i’m actually running out of ideas of how to express what I want to say about this song, but basically, it would sound good but I don’t think it’s on the priority list, 2/10

does he know - i learnt that gerard is the same age as my mom so I legally can’t listen to him sing about sex while addressing the listener like that, 0/10

alive - it would be a headbanger, 10/10

half a heart - and make me cry even more than I cry while listening to the original? 2/10

steal my girl - not really something I’d want or need covered by mcr -10/10

ready to run - this song made me make this post, a clear 10/10

where do broken hearts go - I mean I’d probably cry, but I’d love to hear a cover, 7/10

18 - it makes me feel similar as songs from bullets or three cheers do, but on the other hand, this song already makes me sad and is crying so much I fill the ocean with my tears worth it? 5/10, probably

girl almighty - it would probably sound fun, I wouldn’t mind there being a cover, 5/10

fool’s gold - do you want me to cry? because that’s how to make me cry, no but also please/10

night changes - an existential crisis sounds nice in these trying times (not), 3/10

no control - it would be okay, I guess, 3/10

fireproof - why not, 5/10

spaces - another one presumably about the break up, it just wouldn’t Hit the same if mcr covered it, 2/10

stockholm syndrome - oh, please, that sounds like it would make a lit cover, 8/10

clouds - why tf not, I’d love to hear what mcr would do with it, 9/10, fuck me up

change your ticket - I can’t think about this song without thinking about that one tik tok where 1D members pop up in the girl’s room when their parts start, imagine that with mcr, I would scream (in a not good way), 0/10

illusion - I wouldn’t mind a cover, but really I don’t know what I’d do with it, 1/10

once in a lifetime - this song already makes me cry, I wouldn’t be able to handle an mcr cover, 3/10

act my age - heheh why not, it would make a fun cover, 8/10

hey angel - I wouldn’t mind a cover, so why not, 6/10 (would I cry? you can’t prove anything)

drag me down - I can see it being a good cover now that I think of it, 8/10

perfect - kinda curious how that would sound, 8/10

infinity - only if mcr is willing to pay for and play at my funeral, 8/10

end of the day - I wouldn’t mind an mcr cover if this one, but mostly I’m just indifferent, 5/10

if i could fly - the intro is too similar to cancer, and the original already makes me Cry, i would straight up get dehydrated and die from mcrying, but also, please 9/10

long way down - more mcrying, a whole party, 7/10

never enough - the cover would be probably pretty good, 6/10

olivia - it’s already a fun song to listen to, I wonder what the cower would sound like, 7/10

what a feeling - it has the potential to make me cry, 7/10, also it hits different in these times

love you goodbye - wanna see if they can be as tender as 1D is with this song,, 6/10

i want to write you a song - i don’t dare sending my gf mcr songs with the caption ‘that made me think of you’ in fear of the song having undertones of murder, collective death, nuclear winter or other dying stuff I haven’t noticed yet, this song is too soft, sorry mcr -10/10

history - it would most likely sound good, but it has a sentimental value that mcr just wouldn’t be able to capture, 1/10

temporary fix - HECK YES, THAT SOUNDS LIKE A SONG THAT WOULD SOUND GREAT AS AN MCR COVER, 475475837/10

walking in the wind - I wouldn’t mind a cover, 5/10

wolves - it would be worth it just for the confusion between this song and house of wolves in search results, 10/10, bc i enjoy chaos

am - the original is soft and there’s really barely any instrumental background for most of the song other than acoustic guitar, so I’m wondering what mcr would do with it, 6/10

home - how much do I have to pay to hear mcr cover that one? 1000/10, it’s my fav 1D song

#well this took way longer than i expected #i got hit by the Big Sad the day after ii said i was gonna do it and then more bleh stuff happened #and i was only able to listen to 51 mcr songs that didn't make me sad #mcr #1D #my chemical romance #one direction #so april was a disaster for me #but now I'm back on my bullshit

5 notes · View notes