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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 9 months

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MORE Cute Spider Society Headcanons: Extracurriculars and Sports

Another list of headcanons I have about Spider Society and what it's like on campus. This time - Music, Sports, The Society Newspaper, and other fun things to do on campus

Heads-up: There's light mentions of Spidersonas below - including my own lovely Disco-Spider Diane. All creators tagged at the end

[This post has a lot of links in thise - ALL lead to other tumblr posts. Most of them explain callback jokes, additional headcanons, or the information about the Spider-person being named. All the Spider-people mentioned here are free-to-use headcanons, unless otherwise named. Those who are actual Spider-sonas that my Spider-sona knows - their first names maybe used, or their sona introduction will be linked. Basically if their normal name isn't given and/or theres no link, have at it]

LETS GO

The Spider Music Scene goes CRAZZZYY

Thought it was just Hobie?

Of course not! There's MetroSpider too

In fact there's a whole wide range of accompanying 'Spider-*music genre*'

There's Spider-Goth who plays gothic death metal, DiscoSpider who plays funky pop, Spider-Grunge into 90's garage grunge, RrrriotSpiderrr who plays Riot Girl Grunge

There's even SpiderSync

Which is NYSNC. But they're all Spider-people. Like Justin Timberlake as Spider-man. They roam as a group

That's because Metro isn't the only celebrity Spidey either -

There's SpiderB, which is just Beyonce but a Spider-person. Britney Spiders, which is Britney Spears but a Spider-person. Doja-Spider, Doja Cat. You get the gist.

Like imagine being in the Spider Society campus food court and turning around to see BEYONCE

And she's like 'yes.. It's me'

and it's literally just like the normal Beyonce with albums and everything excepts shes also Spiderwoman

And gay. And has a rapper wife named Jane-Z

Every year there's a collaborative album from all the musical Spiders

Called 'The Yearbook'

A lot of the songs are about the direct struggle or experience of being Spider-people

With some really good party songs thrown in for the Spider-raves

Hobie and Gwen's band Wicked Webs appears on the album, along with any Spider who plays an instrument.

If your spidersona can carry a tune, they're on it.

AND IT'S FIRE

You can buy the album at the Commissary.

The first week at campus EVERYbody is playing it. In the common rooms or the food court or training rooms -

They'll just play this album that's by Spider-people for Spider-people

If your spidersona starts singing ANY part of a 'Yearbook' song some without a doubt will respond with the next lyric. everybody knows the words

Spidey people really treat Hobie like a rockstar - and a lot of them go to his concerts

It's kinda a huge unspoken thing on campus that a LOT of people are willing to break rank and head to 136 without permission, just to see Hobie on Saturday nights.

Even people who don't hang with Hobie or don't necessarily know the real him

They still go cause his shows are THE PLACE to be.

Spider-people pour into his tiny venues in London, all out of uniform, and they mingle with the punks in the crowd while Hobie goes Miguel Mode on stage

It's a place where they can all drink (if over 18) and party (any age, Hobie gotchu ur safe with him) and enjoy themselves

And as a result, Hobie is a HIT with people from his universe

They know that Hobie's shows are always lit and full of cool people you'll never see anywhere else

The after-parties are CRAZY (party on all six walls), and it's really common for Spider-friends to link up and head to each others universes after the show - getting into their own shenanigans

There's MANY times Ansi, Asa, Hobie, and Diane have gotten themself into some shit while lit after one of Hobie's shows

And every Monday people are talking about what they get into after the show, the crazy stuff that popped off in the after-parties

MetroSpider, Pavi, Diane, Hobie, & Margo throw the BEST parties

Miguel knows about this, and he lets it slide - for the sake of morale (and not causing a riot if he banned it)

There's an international Spider community on campus

You thought Spiderman India and Spider-UK was it? NO

Spider-Canada and Hobie are other noticeable ones , but there's more!

There's the Peruvian 'IncaSpider' named Moche, a Paris born SpiderFrance, a SpanishSpider, SpiderItaly

A Mahayana Buddhist ThaiSpider, VietSpider, Spiderwoman Brazil. The list goes ON AND ON.

There's a large group of Indigenous Spider-people

Some Spider-people are even born in countries that don't exist in most universes or live in universes that live in countries that USE to exist

My favorite international Spider-person is the Australia Spider-person who is simply named Australian Spider

People constantly joke they're no dangerous than the average Australian Spider

And there's also a Spider Olympics!

And the events are DESIGNED for superhumans

Diving from buildings into swimming pools, Track meets where people are running at like 80mph, Web Gymnastics, Contact Sports

Ice Hockey gets REAL intense - and of course SpiderCanada is a team captain

As does Roller Derby. Wanna see superhumans fucking WRECKING each other? Go watch Spider-Derby, the players have derby names that play off their own Spider-names. So it's like a triple identity.

And once a year, they all throw down - and even if you aren't THE Spider of your nation, you can still participate if you want -

Like Hobie can enter for Britain but he'd rather die than do anything for that country

It's the one place you can compete and fully push your spider powers without danger - plus it's with your friends

They do give out medals. But it's mainly bragging rights.

Pavi earned his first gold medal in the diving portion for India only three months after his bite. Which is a record for The Society

However the Spider-person with the highest number of medals is Lego-Spider-man. I don't know how.

Sports are HUGGGEEEE on campus I cannot stress this enough

Everyone knows The Society LOVES baseball (shoutout @theevoh12)

But they also love football too (European - not American)

The Society also has TWO soccer teams that constantly play against each other

They play 4 wall soccer in which the field extends the length of a room, up the walls, and across the ceiling - leaving two walls for spectators. This is usually just called 4wFootball or 4WF

This is played with extended rules - and a modified ball that can stick and roll along walls

MANY people on Society backs one of the teams.

And before a game there WILL be arguments without a doubt

You DO NOT insult someones 4WF

You can get team jerseys in the Commissary

WebSlinger Patrick O'Hara is Captain on one team. No, the horse does not play

(I want a jersey with Patrick's 4wFootball number)

Imagine being a Spider Society Athlete and seeing other superhumans wearing your jersey and giving you thumbs up - WHOLESOME

Games can be played 'Plain' or 'Full'

A 'plain' game of 4wFootBall uses basic spider abilities such as speed, strength, and reaction time - however special abilities are not allowed

A 'full' game of 4wFootBall uses basic spider abilities as well special abilities and passive tactics. If Mile wants to go invisible in a 'full' game - that's permissible

Miguel's venom is NOT however. Can't be paralyzing other players. Abilities that effect the other players are off limits, so no electro powers

'Plain' games are played out-of-suits, in team uniform

'Full' games are played in-suits, with the team uniform over it

Betting on teams and players is against the rules

But also Lyla runs an underground betting system and fantasy 4wfootball league. Don't tell Miguel.

There's other activities with solo athletes, and like Hobie being a famous rockstar on campus - there are star athletes too

Tennis is a huge one. Volleyball too. With an extra long field.

The serves, spikes, and hits can be genuinely dangerous. They're managing swings and hits that can top out at like 110 mph (just above the world's fastest baseball pitch)

But because everyone are Spider-people, its fairly easy to follow in real-time

Star-Spiders are usually tennis players, gymnasts, weightlifters, and track stars, but there's a couple others too.

Pavi is a star gymnast, swimmer, AND A 4WFOOTBALL PLAYER - he goes REALLY hard at extracurriculars

(And he's surprisingly competitive. Like insanely competitive. Pavi will scream at the top of his lungs cause he scored a goal. He loses a game and as soon as they end the game he wants to practice cause he HAS to win next time)

The boy is a perfectionist.

One thing that's SO annoying is Venom Evaluation Checks

If you come in acting weird, too bold, or uncharacteristically agressive - You get sent to Spider-psyche so they can make sure you don't have venom.

Not my fault. Raimi-Peter (from the Raimi movies) pulled up to HQ one day in all black and started dancing all weird and saying cringy shit like 'Now dig on this'

And Jess was immediately like "Yeah, no. We're not digging on anything, sir."

There's a newspaper you can write for

Spider-Scrawl is the Editor-in-Chief of The Daily Web who is a GREAT boss by the way

And it's a MUCH better gig than working at The Bugle

So if your spidersona has worked for Jonah - submit a resume, you might get a call

Theres things like a Canon Event Advice Column, which Diane writes for

A news section that details the Craziest News across the multiverse

If your Doc Ock pulls some crazy shit and turns into a giant octopus - oh yeah thats going Front Page. Everyone on campus knows and you get to gloat about fighting a giant octopus

There's a Debate Section that updates with hot topics that only exist between Spider-people like:

'Is it okay to genetically replicate another Spider-persons organic webbing so you can recreate it for your mechanical webslingers?'

'Masks: Hair out or No? Spider-man India and DiscoSpider weigh in'

'Is the Go-Home machine ethical?'

'What's Miguel's favorite flavor of empanada?'

As you can imagine, these coversations across campus can get REALLY heated

There's a lot of entertainment

Yes, there's a movie theatre on campus. They play movies from across the Spider-verse, and they're a GREAT way to see versions of films you know - but different.

Watch GhostBusters except it's from WebSlinger's world and everyone is cowboys and they catch the ghosts with lassos

Other hits are shown on the big screen too

Barbie was a HUGE hit on campus. People coming in with pink outfits OVER their suits

And it's really cheap in terms of credits

So people like Gwen who started out living on campus, or who are apart of the Educational Study Program have nice things to do in their off-time

And, The Food Court is THE BEST

You think they only have empanadas - think AGAIN

Every culture, every time period. Even weird ass food that you wouldn't even want but is a staple in other universes.

They even have a FISH N CHIPS SHOP (Malala loves it there)

So Hobie can get his nasty ass beans on toast without leaving HQ

The Food Court is almost as big as the Training Wing, and there are so many places indoor and out to eat lunch

And it doesn't stop there -

There's a store (based on credits not money) and a general kitchen.

(As well as separate kitchens in each dorm wing)

You know how in SpyKids they have those meals that like GROW to full size in the microwave???

Guess what NUEVA YORK HAS THAT MY FRIEND

Missing McDonalds or a specific chain? - Just go to the Grocery in HQ and get a capsulized happy meal.

It grows to fill size in the expanders in the kitchen

Just pick the meal, put it in the expander, dip your ID card, and BOOM

Olive Garden with breadsticks on the side, Waffle House Waffles, McDonalds WITH international food options

Plus the grocery is fully automated by Lyla so you don't have to talk to people if you don't want to

But she will see all the nutter butters and pringles you pick up and she will judge you for it - it's between you and her but she's judging you

Miguel wants members to actually like the place he made

Because he finds no point in having unhappy, unsupported, unstable Spider-people out in the field -

He wants them at their happiest and healthiest so he tries his best

And he hardly partakes in any of this, but to him that's fine. It's not suppose to be for him.

He does enjoy seeing a full food court or walking by the training rooms and hear all the sessions going on

Hearing people talk about the new movie on campus

And sometimes you can even catch him humming a song from 'The Yearbook'

Imagine how smug Hobie was when he went 'bruv - are you tapping out my guitar notes rn?? you thinking about my song?'

Miguel can never live it down

Miguel DOES follow 4WFootball though -

He is actually one of the coaches for 4WFootball - he's a GREAT coach. Hardheaded ass fuck sometime but GOD he loves the Spider's on his team they're his favorites but he tries not to show it

And finally -

Yes there's a nursery and kindergarten on campus, specialized for Spider-kids regardless of if they have powers.

Peter doesn't let MayDay run free (all the time). MayDay attends the Itsy Bitsy Spider Daycare, and so will Jess's child

Sometimes while walking around HQ, you'll see little toddlers in single-file lines, holding lunch boxes as they follow Spider-Teacher on a field trip to another universe - to learn about the wonders of the multiverse

Their favorite trip is to WebSlinger's world, all the kids get to be cowboys and Patrick shows them ponies and lets them feed his horse Widow

There's a breakroom for people the multiple Spider-Teachers, Spider-Professors (Educational Program), Spider-Psyches, Spider-coaches, the list goes on and on

(Though Society Administration like Jess, Ben Reilly, and yes - Hobie (don't ask how hes just that good) have a separate breakroom from the educators and coaches and such )

And those breakrooms are funny as HELL It's like the Office back there.

This is really long :) Here's a photo of Hobie

Bye.

_________________________

ALSO ALSO ALSO : All the people, OCs, and other things I mentioned -

Ansi - by @spidey-bie Asa - by @suchholydebauchery Disco-Spider Diane - by ME @theevoh12's amazing baseball concept Spider-Scrawl by @whaliiwatching

Thanks for making HQ so rad!!

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falsebooles123 · 1 year

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Finding the First Gay Kiss - Diary of a Big Ole Gay - 3/6/23

Hey Whores, How you been can't remember the last time we talked. Totally not staring into the abyss of fear and shitting myself. Hiiiiii.

(yeah I'm just trying my best right now and or going insane)

so I'm trying my best to get some hours this month so that I can in fact pay my bills and its been stressful. But it turns out that when I'm stressed I watch a lot of movies so heres what's been going on.

Victim (1961) dir. Basil Dearden

A spirtual sucessor to Anders die als Andern this is 2 hours of a crime thriller that just so happens to be about gay people. This film is part of British New Wave which tends to be very focused on british margenilized groups and Dearden manages to be surprisingly sympathetic for the time period. Sure this film features tortured gays who don't even get to fuck a twink but this is a lot better representation then most of the queer rep during the period.

Its important to recognize the effects that censoreship had on the time period. I still have to do some research on british censorship because it is different from american censorship but suffice to say, gays weren't meant to be depicted in a wholesome way so the Tortured Gay Trope stems from that influence. Gays who wanted to stick there dick in some pussy and be "fixed" was the story people could tell with gay people so it was the story they told.

Lust for a Vampire (1971) dir. Jimmy Sangster

The second in the Karnstein Trilogy (yes I watched all three), this one is only slightly lesbian. We have nubile women walking around with there titties out, we have pretty vampire lady being a little interested in the ladies and then .... she fucks a dude.

Yeah they no homoed this lesbian vampire. This is the last in the series that has any lesbian undertones as Twins of Evil is a lot more like a classic folk horror then a lesbian vampire story. There all alright films but I was also very sad when I watched them.

The Vampire Lovers (1970) dir. Roy Ward Baker

Oh Carmilla!

This film is the most faithful to the Carmilla canon. Its a movie where Baker told the Censor board. But Hays Prude's!!!!!! this is based on a classic gothic story, the Lesbanism is like so important to the plot and she has to have her titties out to its like symbolism you know and one they like play with each others tits thats like super hot... I mean like double symbolism. We're respecting the source material.

Yeah this is a movie that centers lesbians for the male gaze and who doesn't like tittys but theres also some aspects that are just gross. Apparently the young coquette was told that her nude scenes would only be for the "Japanese Audience" and the Carmilla Actor encouraged her to go nude despite her misgivings. So its giving double predatory lesbian vibes.

I will say that this is very faithful to the plot despite the fan service and they make a point of making these vampires follow the original rules of the Le Fanu story.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958) dir. Richard Brooks

Fuck I forgot how hot the two leads were. Fun Fact: This film was in color because the director wanted to show off how pretty the actors eyes were which is absolutely a good reason.

This is another Tenessee Williams play which I feel like I have a relevant quote here somewhere.

Yeah, so as we know local asshole, Will Hays, was like wah wah theres to many coke orgies in my movies about white supremacy myths, think about the children just not the ones in the mines. (yes I understand that it was a multi-person thing and this stamp licker was just the figure head I too have read Hollywood Babylon now shush), so everyone got together to write a wet blanket code to censor shit and some of that shit was THE GAYS. Thats not to say that that inherenetly stopped queer films from happening, (through the gayest Code Film I have is Slyvia Scarlet after that we mostly have a lot of queer subtext and foreign films like Clud de Femmes or the Orphic Trilogy), but as we get into the 50s and 60s the main we began to see films be more about the stigma of gayness. Theres a few different films that act out the pansy scare, (Tea & Sympathy, The Childrens Hour), were people are accused of being little homos, and these types of sexual repression films were if were lucky its something like Victim (1961) or Detective (1968) were these homos are actually gay they just hate themselves, (remember that the Hays Code was like you can have shit they just have to be villanized or shown that its a tormented lifestyle: See the Queer-Coded Villian), and at worse its just implied that this is the reason this person was sad and killed themselves.

T-Billy plays actually work well on this front which is probably one of the reasons why so many got made during this time frame. The Hays Prudes were loosening the iron grip on queer depictions and T-Billy's Ouvre was already playing with like the specter of queer subtext so it was a match made in some prudes queer-erasasing heaven. I think that its also a testiment to the power of how gay Tenessee Williams is, that when you literally do a hachet job and try to rip out the queerness of his films. The queerness is just felt that more strongly. He was a master of somehow writting negative queer representation. Storys were the missing person in the room is on everyones mind.

wow honestly I have been popping off with my reviews lately.

So put it simply this movie has a lot of queer subtext but they also take out all of the parts of the original play that was actually super gay. Its still an amazing film but it misses points in the queer catergory due to censoreship.

A Taste of Honey (1961) dir. Tony Richardson

so lets talk about british new wave. basically it was a lot of arthouse nonsense adapting plays about disenfranchise poor brits. This film is about a bunch of british people "That just didn't exist". Namely people like single mothers, interraccial couples and a singuler gay.

I've been writing out full reviews for the last couple films and I'm just been very mentally drained lately. so if you want a bigger description check out my Letterboxd.

This films gay rep is absolutely shitty. This man doesn't even call himself gay his gal pal just insinuates it. he doesn't have a boyfriend hes literally just this artsy domestic sort and it is very lazy rep in terms of writing. Don't get me wrong as a film this disserves the accolades it has but it doesn't get points in the queer films category.

It might explain why I've had a hard time with these films as of late. The 1960s are kinda the low point of the queer movie watchlist as we arn't dealing with the sexy queer subtext, (rebecca is iconic we stan) and we arn't dealing with the bright aggresiveness of New Queer Wave so this decade is like the Queer Truama Porn of Early Queer Cinema (yeah thats what I'm calling it now)

Everything Else I Watched Recently

The Great Train Robbery (1903), The Broken Butterfly (1919), Thelma and Louise (1991), The Blood on Satan's Claw (1971), The Toll of the Sea (1922). Antonio da Silva short films.

Also been watching a lot of television lately

Junji Ito Maniac - Trash

Cunk on Earth - Iconic

28 Days Haunted - absolute trash and iconic.

I'm gonna try to finish watching the staircase at some point this week and I will try to keep up with my gay movie watching i've just kinda burned out on life right now.

#first gay kiss #diary #Queer Cinema #Early queer Cinema #Homophobia

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fluoresensitivearchived · 3 years

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beloved by toni morrison (black horror, gothic horror, historical fiction)

what’s it about?: sethe, a runaway slave woman living in exile from her community, deals with grief, trauma and loss alongside her daughter, denver, and her mysterious house guest, beloved. that is all i can say without spoiling the whole thing!

why i love it; it’s about the grief, it’s about violence and blood as a form of love, it’s about paul d looking at sethe’s back and seeing the beauty in her horrible scars, and it’s about sethe accepting that she’s her own best thing

trigger warnings: rape, violence, slavery, anti-blackness

pride & prejudice by jane austen ( classics, romance )

what’s it about; a man of means must be in want of a wife ... mr. bingley is rich and mrs. bennet wants HER daughter to marry him, but like, so does everyone else, but mr. bingley has this annoying, stuck up friend, mr. darcy, and elizabeth bennet (lizzie, as everyone knows her) does NOT like him, but yes she does. also, there’s a lot of social prejudices, like someone with only two servants is poor and weird and uncouth, and someone with a manor is the best, EVEN if he’s been known to disgrace fair ladies 😳 and it’s all complex and interesting to read

why i recommend it; it’s thee original romantic comedy, and while i get annoyed when people water down these classic plots to ‘blah blah blah short thing’, that’s literally the best way to describe it. and yes, there are tender moments, yes, there are hand-clench moments, but there’s also a lot of interesting moments that go into the social politics of the time!

sir gawain & the green knight, as translated by Burton Raffel (classics, poetry, epic fiction)

what’s it about; so imagine you’re having a christmas party, and some weird guy says ‘hey! cut off my head!’ so you do it, and then he stands back up and goes, ‘cool! in a year’s time, i’ll return the favor’, and now you have to go on an epic quest that tests your honor and chivalry and religion. also this guy is green.

why i recommend it; a) because dev patel movie, and b) it’s such an incredible piece of fiction. i read the burton raffel version, but i’ve been eyeing the j.r.r. tolkien version ... you just have to choose which one’s right for you, or! read all the versions until you settle on a favorite!

watership down by richard adams

what’s it about; the rabbits have a complex society. but, more in depth, fiver (the runt of den) sees a human-made sign and has a vision of the rabbit warren being destroyed but ALSO a vision of this promised land...watership down ... there’s power struggles, there’s two (2) rabbit cults, and so many moments that made me want to lay face down in the grass

why i recommend it; fiver is cassandra, a doomed and cursed prophet, and hazel is the chosen one with too much weight on his shoulders...there are so many moments of shock and brutality that are balanced by goodness, by love and friendship and kinship ... the rabbits befriend a bird ... prince with a thousand enemies, when they catch you, they’ll kill you...but first they must catch you

housekeeping by marilyanne robinson (domestic fiction)

what’s it about; after their mother commits suicide, two sisters go to live in a mountain town with their grandmother. when their grandmother passes, their aunt (a drifter) comes to take care of them. it’s about the family relationships, it’s about sibling bonds, it’s questioning what does it mean to be a mother? what does it mean to be a social outcast?

why i recommend it; a young lesbian grows super attached to her lesbian drifter aunt...i don’t know what else you want me to say, it’s so incredibly touching

red dragon by thomas harris

what’s it about; retired fbi profiler will graham is pulled back into the dark world of criminal investigation, and must work with hannibal lecter to catch francis dolerhyde, “the tooth fairy”

why i recommend it; it’s nothing like that show, so like ... dash that out of your head. it’s superior to the show, it surpasses the show. if you want gay shit, you will get gay shit, but the real power of this story is like, the depravity. it’s about will breaking inside because he has to bring his wife and step-child into this world, it’s about will having the potential for great violence and doing nothing with it, it’s about hannibal lecter being a full-on bitch 24/7 and coaxing/teasing that cruelty out of people for FUNSIES, it’s amazing, it’s delicious.

trigger warnings: extreme violence, mentions of cannibalism

no more descriptions underneath the cut for now! i’ll come back to this post when I have the energy! or, you can ask me specifically about the books i’ve recommended.

foundryside by robert jackson bennett

the hare with amber eyes by edmund de waal

mexican gothic by silvia moreno garcia

nothing to see here by kevin wilson

the fifth season by n.k. jemisin

severance by ling ma

oil! by upton sinclair

annihilation by jeff vandermeer

the wizard of earthsea by ursula k. le guin

the final revival of opal & nev by dawnie walton

zami: a new spelling of my name by audre lorde

ponti by sharlene tao

such a fun age by kiley reid

#🌙#recs by yah yah #i wanted to give it a fuller post! also i wanted to edit the text more ... b/c i wanna give my reasons for loving this stuff #aND ALSO! lil summaries/twitter warnings #long post

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nochiquinn · 3 years

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campaign 3 episode 1: 🎶 make new friends but keep the old 🎶

[vibrates]

oh this music is INTENSE, I dig it

gilmore!! gilmore and husband!!

godwives!!

aw, the hanglider from the tal'dorei campaign guide

eeeeee

aw sam broke the streak

that sam/travis/marisha table makes me feel fear

the new layout means I can't put my notepad on the side of the yt screen like usual, how dare you make me redo my whole window layout

oh right he's tall

liam and laura are back together and that makes me happy

taliesin's bi flag skull shirt

campaign 3 reminder to not be part of the twitch chat

you know why california is separate

"put your package in here" travis

[v i b r a t e s]

matt: everyone but laura and marisha leave laura and marisha: [gay fear]

SOUTHERN ACCENT

lmao mala and I both said the same thing at the same time

marisha IS her own goth gf

I love them both

oh the full art is EXTREMELY final fantsy, I'm into it

I love laudna's ratbird, I hope it comes to life and is a familiar

ahhh, academia

getting southern milo thatch vibes and I'm into it

laudna

telepathy??? imogen telepathist????

kunthea is my head is just kikimora from the owl house

imogen not good at telepathy yet

cool I hate her

I love this gothic 30s movie star murder queen

matt: beech nut necklace me: is violently yanked into recettear

"I AM fun scary!" "laudna, you're scary scary"

HE DID IT

"people are thrown here to be forgotten"

HE/THEY

GENASI

the ART

BARBARIAN

wake up babe new gender dropped

chronic injury genasi barbarian!!

OH NO

OH NO IT'S CUTE

if any of you give him shit for a nonbinary non-human I'll eat your shoes

THEY'RE THE CLERIC

"they're very friendly" "I hate it"

oh no I identify with fcg

"it rhymes so I'm in!"

this is the coolest shit I've ever heard in my life

logging in to pick up your dailies

I just want to point out this is STILL extremely final fantasy, don't fuck it up travis and ashley

I love them

"I really wanna eat that...but ashton really likes money"

"copper's not really money"

I love them so gd much

and WHOMST

"travis changed his name to robbie!"

WAIT

HE IS

MY BOY

SKYSHIP

FEARNE

is liam still playing orym? I can't see his dice to check

is this why they didn't level up in exu, for campaign 3 reasons

he IS!!

DORIAN BACKSTORY

"I think they crash"

"that is indeed how walking works"

tummy flutters

f e a r n e

suddenly I realize why I would die for parker in leverage

dad council convenes

"you're really tall" "you're really small" that's just math

HEY WHAT

COLORS

the mood lighting is both very cool and much easier on my eyes

mala: evil be our guest

their archenemy for this campaign really is a table

this feel like the best initiative they've ever had??

also travis where r u

love matt's nails btw

I LOVE THEM

HE BROKE THE MINI

"that's a sign, you're gonna die today"

"the rug is more dextrous than I am??"

turn into a WHAT

beldam??

"what do all my things do?!" you had eight episodes sir

"I'm a sword expert not a table expert" dammit jim

aw, travis wasn't here to react to the rage

gravity? gravity barbarian???

"FUUUCK YOOOU"

someone did the knife meme, I heard them

TRAVIS

oh no it's armstrong

mala: what if he's a wizard setting this up so he can "save" people

"strong boy :D"

given that these are apparently dorian's stomping grounds, what's gonna happen that he leaves the party

"never gets old" "we'll see!"

SPIRITUAL TOMATO

HDYWTDT

"critical role endorses knife fucking!"

"shiny day to you!" "you too!" these two are going to be amazing together

"don't fuckin laugh" then don't do that

"the first three rows have ponchos"

"bless you small creature!!"

laudna's a pinterest upcycle witch

bertrand!

sam

S A M

I'm gonna laugh every time he pulls that thing out. idc how many episodes this is, every time

"it looks like something out of borderlands" I thought the same thing when fgc's art popped up so valid

I love this cripplepunk nonbinary bastard

HA I knew pickpocketing was going to be involved with these two meeting

oh do I get to watch the lovm intro every ep bc I'm down for that

I want the vex dress but there's not a chance in hell it fits over my shoulders AND hips

"definitely not....here"

does taliesin have a new snitch bc jesus

travis just giggling himself to death in the corner

WHOMST

samuel

in this moment I am matthew mercer

"did you say 'send help'?" yes

the whole table just quietly losing it while the scene goes on

oh no, with liam playing his exu character SAM is the sadboy

laudna

dancer??

laudna and fgc bond over being pinterest upcyclers

getting into What Measure Is A Non-Human right away huh

from where now

okay I know from exu that orym knows what a whitestone is

"I fell asleep" finally travis has an in-universe reason to zone out

fgc as ashton's assistance bot

I know it's a wookie life debt whatever thing but imagine

robbie got so excited he lost his hat

imogen feels so comfy to me

no talk me me anger

travis is me around 10 am every day

just realized there are stars out the fake window

"we've done pretty well with stupid so far" pour one out for dariax

will KEYLETH have a problem with a detour? do we know the same keyleth??

"anyway here's wonderwall"

kk slider when you put the song title in wrong

I love fearne

travis being excited about the axeflute

matt be nice he's a baby

hot cross buns

I need to know how to play this game

awww

"does your robot poop"

a bit of bullshittery

"maybe you should have your parents write you a letter" my new Extremely Unlikely Crack Theory is that laudna is a de rolo child

ashton doesn't know what straight is

fearne and ashton are going to leave with half the building

was that a young frankenstein joke

firelight!!

the monitor I'm watching on is very warm-toned and this is SUPER red now lmao

eshteross: shit-talks bertrand taliesin: 8D

youtube I am here because you don't freeze like twitch, stop hanging

"this campaign is about silver foxes only" "I'm here for it"

"furniture and old people, the fantasy everyone wants"

#critical role #spoilers #crititag #liveblog #reaction post

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just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot · 4 years

Text

Soulmate September - Day 10

Day 10 - You are born with a birthmark, similar to a tattoo, that is shared by your soulmate.

Pairing(s): Romantic Anaroceit, Romantic RemSleep, Ambiguous Poly Glasses Gays

TWs: Swearing, Remus being Remus, animal death metions briefly, implied sexual mention once I think?

–

Why was it so difficult to simply bring together two handsome, obnoxious soulmates?

How could grown men be this dense?!Virgil had been trying for MONTHS at this point to get these idiots to date, yet for some reason

Instead of wanting to date each other, they both seemed far more interested in someone else.

In him.

Why, why did this have to be his life? Tormented by such stupid, handsome men?

Okay, maybe he had a teeny crush on both of them but Virgil was getting ahead of himself.

Working at the local theatre was doing some real good for Virgil; being a techie meant he was mostly out of the spotlight - so no chance of any performance anxiety - and it meant he had to actually wake up and be a functional human being but was flexible enough that he could call in sick pretty easily if he needed a mental health day.

Thankfully, things had been going well until Virgil looked down from the catwalk to note that the two best actors in their troupe, Roman Prince and Janus D. Lyre, both bore each other’s soulmate markings. Both on the backs of their necks, all too easy to miss. Ever since, Virgil had been trying to subtly get them to realise they were soulmates. Of course, given the intimacy of the soulmate marks, it would be entirely outrageous for Virgil to simply tell them they were soulmates; social etiquette wasn’t his forte, but his anxiety really didn’t want the possible shunning he might receive if he broke that rule. Knowing that Janus and Roman were often together for rehearsals and were similarly self-obsessed, Virgil assumed getting them interested in each other would be a piece of cake.

And yet. Somehow. The man they were both interested in was Virgil himself.

Every time he tried to get the two talking, Virgil wound up being flirted with or found himself stuck between two arguing idiots. If anything, Virgil wondered if his interfering had made things worse. Now instead of kidding and being perfect and gorgeous together, they were absolutely straight up enemies. Janus did his best to interrupt - and one-up - Roman’s stellar attempts at flirting, and Roman often tried to out shine Janus by giving Virgil anything from his favourite chocolates to gothic black roses to new headphones.

Not that Virgil didn’t secretly love being the object of their mutual affection, if anything it gave him hope that perhaps whoever his soulmate was would dote on him just as much. But just like his non-existent soulmate mark, this just wasn’t meant to be. He still wasn’t sure why he didn’t have a soulmate mark like everyone else; even his ace and aro friends confirmed they had soulmates too, so why was he skipped over? Probably because no one would ever want to be his soulmate.Yeah. Probably.

Virgil was lost in that downward spiral when Remus leapt off of the set he was painting and landed just shy of crushing the poor emo.

“Wow you look like shit,”, the trash rat greeted, sitting and slinging an arm around Virgil before he could protest, “Are the girls fighting again?”

Virgil tried to stifle a snicker. It’s a stupid meme reference, Virgil, don’t laugh.

“Of course it fucking is, when is it not?“

Remus nodded, though he looked more bored than sympathetic, “Well, how about I offer you some advice, my good bitch?”

Virgil squinted at him in both annoyance and suspicion. “If it’s going to get me arrested, it’s a solid ‘fuck no’.”

“Relax, asshole, it’s totally legal and requires zero body bags and or falsified witness statements!”

Well. That’s about as good as they’re going to get. Virgil huffed, “Fine, give me the deets, Ratman.”

Remus snickered at the old nickname; A decade had passed but still the memory of the two of them graffitiing their high school gym with their tags on their last day still lived on.

“Alright, Stitch Bitch, here’s how you do it,”, Remus ignored Virgil’s eye roll and continued, “Ask them both on a date, same place and time. Talk about your interests, since you’re probably not gonna actually have that much in common, then you can just reject both of them! They’ll be driven into each other’s arms, or some shit. You know what they’re like, they’re dramatic as fuck. It’ll be perfect.”

Virgil wasn’t amused, “But what if they don’t? What if I just end up breaking both their hearts and they wind up all depressed and-?!”

“Then it solves your problem anyway, dipshit.”, he rolled his eyes, “Jeez, you’re worse than Roman with the dramatics! Think of the middle ground, you turn them both down, they go home sulking, but they’re big boys! They’ll get over it and get together some other day! Big deal!” Remus affectionately ruffled Virgil’s hair and didn’t stop until Virgil all but threw him off, “Alright, alright, fine! I’ll try, but if it all goes wrong, you’re helping me pack to move across the fucking globe.” “Ooh, alright! Or I can hide your body if it goes REALLY badly! I know how to make sure the police never find it, after all! Did you know you just need to bury it vertically and put a dead animal on top-”

Virgil tuned him out, already trying to narrow down locations for dates in his head. He’d need to pick somewhere both Roman and Janus would agree to go. He didn’t exactly doubt either of them would turn him down, but he needed to be sure they’d both attend. Perhaps the local restaurants would be a good place to start? It’d be easy to Mrs.Doubtfire that shit. Minus the clothing change, of course. Maybe the Golden Palace might be a good idea? It’s bougie enough for Roman, classy enough for Janus, and if Virgil got lucky enough, perhaps they’d both be the ones to pay for dinner.

“...And so I told Roman about it and then Roman tells me “Remus, you dunce, you got arrested because you were caught carrying a dangerous weapon in Starbucks” but I personally think that cop was just an asshole. I mean, it was just a baseball bat for fuck’s sake, so WHAT if it had a few nails in it-”

The techie noted that Remus was still babbling to himself so he clicked his fingers just shy or flicking him in the ear,

“When’s Roman free? I know Janus is pretty flexible-”

“I’ll bet.”, Remus snickered. “Dude. You have your soulmate, don’t be a dick.”

“Hey, that doesn’t mean I can’t mentally rank every guy here on how bendy I think they’d be in bed-”

“THAT ASIDE.”, Virgil interrupted, rubbing his temples like it would squeeze out the horrible mental image and several questions he never wanted answers to, “I’ve nailed down the where, I just need the when. Janus is free most days, but Roman’s pretty enigmatic about that shit. Do you know if he’s free tonight? Might as well get this shit over with.”

Remus mulled it over, “He should be. But you should probably just ask him first then Janus. Y’know, save yourself the trouble.”

Ah. That did make sense. Virgil tried not to let it show that he hadn’t thought of that and nodded, “Right… Okay. Just, if I fuck up talking to either of them, be ready.”

“With the car or a shovel?”

“Both.”

The trashrat snickered and let Virgil stand up, giving him an ‘affectionate’ jab in the back of his knee just to get a reaction out of the techie. Virgil wasn’t sure why Remus did that sometimes, he figured it was just another one of the demented twin’s eccentricities.

Inhaling deeply, Virgil sought out Roman, careful to avoid Janus’ line of sight as he tapped the flamboyant twin on the arm. Roman spun to face him, his expression lighting up in a way that made Virgil shamefully wish that he was his soulmate. That he was worthy of all his doting.

“Virge! What can I do for you, my dark and stormy knight?”

Stop being so fucking charming perhaps?

“Uh, it’s kind of an embarrassing request, so bear with me.”

“Of course! What’s up?”

Just ask him, ignore the butterflies, he’s not your soulmate.

“I was wondering, if you’d want to go on a date with me tonight-”

Roman positively swept the emo off his feet, his beaming smile could have burned itself into Virgil’s eyes.

“YES!! YES, I’D ADORE-”

“YEP! Okay, that’s great!”, he shushed him, trying to keep things as quiet as possible, “Listen, I know you’re excited but I’m really anxious about this-”

“Nothing new there.”, Roman chuckled affectionately as he put Virgil down.

“Oh shut up,”, Virgil smirked, pushing down the sunny feeling that chuckle brought out, “Look, I’ll text you the details so can you just keep this between us? I don’t want anyone gossiping. Not that I’m ashamed of you or anything I just-”

Roman carefully halted his word vomit with a gentle caress of Virgil’s cheek, “It’s alright, I understand. After all, with such an honour, I’d do good not to betray the trust of my charming prince.”

Virgil flusteredly averted his gaze, “Hmph. What happened to your ‘dark and stormy knight’?”

“Well, if things go well, I’d hope to promote him.”

The wink Roman shot Virgil should be illegal, that thing could have killed him. The techie just gave him an attempt at an ‘oh fuck off’ smirk that came out more as a ‘fuck I have a crush’ shy smile.

No time to dwell on it, he had another stupidly handsome man to ask on a fake date.

Virgil checked with the stagehands and made his way over to the backstage dressing room area, finding Janus sat on one of the makeup tables while their dramaturg was busy going over some directions for their next rehearsal. Upon looking up and noticing him, Janus smirked - another expression that should be outright banned for it’s lethality - and politely requested the dramaturg ‘bother him another time’. They did exactly that, leaving Virgil and Janus alone to talk,

“Virgil,”, Janus purred with a voice like sweet honey, “what brings you here?”

Don’t think about that sexy voice, don’t think about that sexy voice, don’t-

“You, actually.” Play it cool, Virge. Be suave and charming. “I wanted to ask you out on a date.”

Janus’ eyes widened slightly in surprise. Virgil felt pretty proud to have finally stunned the silver-tongued gent, though he knew it’d only be a fleeting victory. If anyone would out-smooth even the most flirty person alive, it would be Janus.

With a snake-like fluidity, Janus slunk off of the table and made his way over to Virgil; whereas Roman was only an inch or two taller than him, Janus had a whole six inches at least. Virgil found it semi-intimidating, but that just made the taller man more attractive if he was being honest. Janus softly ran a hand through Virgil’s purple-dyed hair,

“That’s rather a bold request, Virgil. What brought this on, if I may ask? Not that I’m complaining..”

Virgil had to work extremely hard to resist the urge to nestle into the warmth of his palm. Not your soulmate! Stop it! “I uh, I figured I would take a risk for once. It’s alright if you don’t wanna-”

“No.”, Janus interjected, the hand in Virgil’s hair sliding under his chin to lock their eyes, “I’d very much like to go on a date with you. When and where?”

Virgil swallowed nervously, “The Golden Palace, tonight? I’ll um, I’ll book the table and text you the time-”

“Perfect.”, Janus smirked, gently releasing Virgil. He hadn’t realised how much he’d been subconsciously leaning into Janus’ touch until he almost felt himself sway. “I’ll be sure to wear my best suit for you. Really give you something to blush over.”

Shit.

Virgil had no rebuttal, he simply nodded and hastily headed back to his usual breakspot to work out just how he would survive tonight…

It turned out the answer was simple; he wouldn’t.

Thankfully Virgil had settled on an outfit that was just the right mix of fancy and casual; his black leather jacket hugged his shoulders which his dark purple button up sat under. He’d gone back and forward between his options for bottoms, but in the end, he preferred his black short pencil skirt and a pair of sheer black tights that matched his black ankle boots. It was a bold choice, but Virgil felt far more powerful in that combination. Like he could kick ass and get away with it.

Virgil needn’t have bothered, however, as the second he showed up at quarter to seven to meet Roman, any semblance of confidence in his ability to control the situation went right out the window. It should have been illegal to look that handsome. A white waistcoat and pants bearing gold trim, combined with a burgundy button up shirt with the sleeves rolled? How dare Roman look that beautiful-

Oh god, now he’s smiling at him from across the room. Too late to back out now.

Swallowing nervously, Virgil returned the smile and headed over to the table he’d booked; far enough from the door for Roman to miss Janus arriving, and out of the way enough so that they wouldn’t see each other too soon. If he wasn’t so nervous, Virgil would have pat himself on the back for the trouble he went to securing two tables over the phone, but the last thing he wanted to focus on was the person on the phone’s sassy remarks as he did so. Instead, he focused on Roman politely getting up to pull out his chair for him.

“You look stunning, Virge! Did you change up your eye shadow too?”

Virgil gave an anxious nod, “Yeah, I thought maybe I’d try the purple instead of solid black like usual. Do you like it?”

Roman’s grin could’ve smothered him in the night and he’d have thanked it for the priveledge, “I love it!”

While keeping an eye on the time, Virgil let himself roll into conversation with Roman; he was surprised by not only how smoothly the conversation went, but how much they had in common. Sure, there was a tiiiiny heated exchange as to which Disney movie reigned supreme, but their mutual love of Nightmare Before Christmas and the artistic pursuits made for some wonderful discussion. It was a shame Virgil had to remind himself of just why he was doing this.

He was supposed to be making his rejection of Roman easier, not more difficult.

Finally, as 8 O’clock rolled around, Janus walked in followed by a few other smartly dressed patrons. Of course, Janus very much stood out among them wearing a black dinner suit with an obsidian waist coat and golden coloured button up underneath. His usual bowler hat had been replaced for a much fancier one with a larger brim that held a marigold flower. The sight was so enticing, Virgil had to will himself to stop staring as he got up from the table,

“Excuse me, Roman, mind if I go use the bathroom?”

Roman gave a nod and Virgil made haste towards the restroom area; thankfully he’d planned ahead and knew he could use the corridor that went along behind the bar to emerge on the other side of the room without being detected. However, a new obstacle proved to be a challenge; Janus hadn’t taken his eyes off of the door since the moment he’d walked in and removed his suit jacket.

Damn. Virgil hadn’t anticipated that.

Luckily, one of the men who’d come in behind Janus - a man adorned in an off-black suit wearing a beanie, a pair of sunglasses, and a face mask - had just come out of the bathroom door behind him. Without the time to let his social anxiety kick in, Virgil stopped the man and asked quietly, “Hey, sorry to be a bother, but if you can distract the handsome guy at that table for a couple minutes,“, he began, gesturing to Janus, “I’ll give you ten bucks, how’s that sound?”.

The man seemed to stare for a moment behind the shades then silently gestured with his hands in a motion of “more”.

Of course.

“Okay, uh, fifteen?”

More again. This asshole..

“Ugh, fine, twenty! That's as much as I can spare!”

The man shrugged and nodded, gladly taking the money and, to his credit, doing exactly as was asked. Virgil watched him approach Janus, asking for the time if the way Janus took his attention and turned it to his watch was an indication. It bought Virgil enough time to ‘arrive’ just as the man gave a thank you nod to Janus.

“Sorry I’m a little late,”, Virgil apologised, taking his seat, “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting?”

“Not at all,”, Janus assured him, smirking delightedly in a way that made Virgil’s knees feel weak even in a sitting position, “You look beautiful, Virgil, if I’d known you’d look so good, I’d have picked out an even better suit.”

This fucking guy, oh my god. “Oh shut up, you look handsome as is.”, Virgil shot back, doing his best to remain calm even as Janus leant in close to strike up conversation.

“I’m telling you, babes, he’s either a cheater or he’s crazy.”

Remy aimed the stirrer he’d been using to push back his cuticles towards Virgil and Janus, then trained it on his stoic co worker, “Look, he’s got two gorgeous guys here and neither of them have noticed yet.”

The aforementioned co worker rolled his eyes, “Remy, you have once again utterly misread the situation for the sake of needless dramatics. It’s rather obvious what’s going on here if you take the time to pick up on subtle body language clues.”

“What’s this about clues, Logie Bear?”, questioned a rather eager waiter carrying a tray of glasses back behind the bar. “Are you playing Sherlock again?”

“Patton, please, refrain from the pet names during working hours, I’ve told you before-”

“While they’re perfectly suitable and welcome at home, we must remain professional at work.”, chimed in another bespectacled man who was manning the till, “It’s fine Logan, honey, let them off the hook this once, okay?”

Patton put down the tray and wrapped their arms around the man who’d just spoken, “Emile’s right! C’mon Logan, you can’t deny it, you like the name too-”

Logan cleared his throat to throw off the peachy blush that threatened to give away his adoration for his soulmates, ”As I was saying before, it’s obvious as to what this rather anxious individual is up to. His body language isn’t that of a cheater, Remy,”, the server flipped Logan the bird, “In fact, I’d hazard a guess that the poor lad is simply attempting to work out which man is his soulmate. I read a fascinating journal that talked all about this phenomenon where some soulmates are unable to see their soulmarks and thus rely on a technique comparable to sensing one’s aura-”

“Okay so like, you think he’s trying to get a read on these two to narrow it down?”, Remy interrupted before Logan could further explore his tangent, “Well then, it’s obvious which one he’s gonna pick.”

Remy gestured lazily over his shoulder at Roman, who was currently twirling his fork between his fingers, “It’s gonna be Tall, Dark and Dumbass over there, babes.”

Logan scoffed, “Falsehood. Clearly the gentleman he’s sat with currently is a much more appropriate option.”. The server nodded his head in their direction, “All factors point to the man in black not only being the more suitable option, but his body language is far more open and receptive to our subject.”

“Subject. Christ it’s like I’m back in science one.”, Remy groaned, but continued to argue, “Besides, you’re ignoring how he’s like, totes more comfortable with my boy in white, sweetie. Look at him, he can’t wait to get away from your boy in black.“

Sure enough, Virgil had gone to switch partners again, returning to Roman with a sweetly shy apologetic gesture.

Patton piped up, “What if they’re like us, Logie Bear? Y’know, more than one soulmate?”

Logan shook his head, “Ridiculous, it’d make no sense to have such a date if that were the case.”

Remy nodded in agreement for the first time, “Yeah, either way, you’re wrong on this one, Logan. Trust me, I know what a fellow morosexual looks like.”

Emile and Logan both sighed at that one while Patton tsk’d, “Remy, come on, thats your soulmate you’re talking about! You shouldn’t be mean!”

Remy quirked an eyebrow at Patton, “Babes, have you met Remus? I love the big sap but he’s a certified dumbass with a heaping dose of cryptid.”, he opened the drinks cooler and took out a lemonade bottle, not giving a shit that the three soulmates behind him were absolutely unamused. ”Anyway, if you’re so sure over who our ‘subject’ will end up with, how about we bet on it? Loser has to work two weeks of overtime and the winner gets thirty dollars or some shit. You in?”

Patton and Emile both declined, both more focused on their work and simply enjoying the dates being had, while Logan agreed wholeheartedly, “I do hope your next two weeks are free, Remy...”

He couldn’t take much more of this.

The longer Virgil kept going back and forth between the two of them - using his anxiety to buy himself time without too much suspicion - the more he was getting tangled up in feelings he knew he couldn’t indulge. Every second with Roman made him smile, even when trading verbal jabs. Every second with Janus made him feel more bold, able to flirt back every once and a while. But this wasn’t right. Janus, Roman, they were made for each other. Not for him.

He wouldn’t get to curl up next to Roman on a cold night, watching Disney movies, baking together, or following along to Bob Ross tutorials only for one of them inevitably would start painting on the other until they were both paint splattered, cackling messes.

He wouldn’t get to dance quietly in the living room with Janus while their favourite music plays, swaying softly to his favourite Jazz music, or lazily draping himself over Janus’ lap while they read their favourite books long into the night.

Virgil stared into the bathroom mirror; his ‘dates’ had been so sweet as to compliment him, but all he could focus on was how much of a mess he felt. He’s going to break their hearts beyond repair, all because he couldn’t just tell them they were soulmates. Social etiquette be damned, why had he let it go on like this?

Feeling his chest constricting, Virgil quickly grabbed his phone and texted Remus.

V: [help. Having a panic attack. Distract me]

He tried to remember his breathing exercises, chewing his free hand’s thumbnail anxiously until he got the text notification;

R: [Cool. Did u kno rabbits eat their babies when they’re stressed?]

…. Virgil heavily regretted asking Remus to distract him.

V: [Horrifying. Thank you.]

R: [Anytime, Stitch Bitch. Now what happened?]

V: [Dates backfired.]

R: [U caught feelings didnt u]

Virgil groaned and kept typing.

V: [fuck u]

R: [fuck me urself coward.]

Well at least that got a laugh out of him. Remus followed up that text before he could reply:

R: [Just go out there and tell them the truth]

V: [nope, no way, they’ll hate me]

R: [Bitch they’re both smitten w/ u it’ll hurt but they’ll live, they’re sat there worried about u]

V: [how the fuck do you know that?]

R: [Remy’s on shift tonight, he and Logan are taking bets on how things will pan out. They’ve been texting me non stop.]

That did explain a few things. Namely the one server with the sunglasses and sassy attitude who gave him and Roman extra desserts “for like, the cutest couple in this bitch”, and the other more stoic server who brought him and Janus a bottle of champagne “to celebrate a wonderful partnership”. When would his life stop feeling like a goddamn circus?

Virgil was pulled from his thoughts as his next text sent his blood running cold,

R: [u might wanna get back to em, they’ll be worried about u by now]

Dammit. Virgil had just left the bathroom to be met with a worried Roman, “Virgil, are you alright!? You were gone so long, I thought something had happened!”

Stomp down that affection you’re feeling, Virgil. It’s just gonna hurt more.

“I’m fine, its just my nerves-”

“Virgil?”

Both men turned to spy Janus entering the hallway with an expression of shock and disgust upon seeing the two of them. He promptly strode over and with surprising gentleness moved Virgil to his side,

“It’s bad enough I can’t avoid you at work, Prince, but I’ll not have you ruining our date night.”

As Janus went to lead Virgil away, Roman held onto Virgil’s hand, “Actually, Lies and Dolls, he’s with me tonight, so kindly take your delusions and leave.”

Oh my god, why did he trust Remus’ plan in the first place?! Janus smirked dangerously, “Or what, you dramatic hack?”

Roman took exception to that, and while Janus had the height advantage, Roman still knew how to be intimidating when needed, “I’ll make you leave!”

Before either of them could come to blows, Virgil got in between them. He might as well come clean,

“BOTH OF YOU STOP!”

Janus and Roman faced him, sporting stunned but ever attentive expressions. Ugh, this was gonna hurt.

“I can’t do this anymore! Yeah, I did ask you both here, and yeah! You’re both wonderful but you’re not meant to be with me! You’re meant to be with each other! Ugh, this was a mistake! I can’t-! I can’t be here, I’m sorry-!”

Virgil wrenched himself from between them, making a beeline through the tables and just getting out of the door before the two caught up to him. In the back of his mind, Virgil assumed the serving staff that followed behind were either desperate to see this unfold or just making sure this wasn’t going to be a dine ‘n’ dash scenario.

“Virge, come on, you’re not making any sense! I’m not meant to be with Janus,”, Roman assured him, rolling his left sleeve up the whole way and revealing Virgil’s soul mark, “I’m meant to be with you! You’re my soulmate, Virgil! Surely you knew-”

“That’s,”, Janus interrupted, “That’s not possible, because Virgil is my soulmate.”

Both Roman and Virgil turned to face him, watching Janus roll up his right sleeve to reveal Virgil’s soul mark in the exact same place as Roman’s had been.

To say Virgil was confused was an understatement, “W...Wait, no, that’s...”

Roman and Janus stared at each other’s soul mark then looked to Virgil, “You… really didn’t know that I- that we were your soulmates?”

Virgil shook his head, ”I don’t have your soulmarks though! It doesn’t make sense...”

He turned away, grasping his arms as he tried to make sense of all this. All his life, Virgil had looked in his mirror and wished - God, how he’d wished - to find just one mark. Something to prove that he was indeed someone’s soulmate. That the universe hadn’t forsaken him. And now he had two of the most wonderful men he’d ever met sporting his soul mark while he had nothing to reassure him this wasn’t some cosmic fluke?!

Janus and Roman stood in awkward silence, the latter giving the servers an apologetic look and pulling out his wallet to pay when the former noticed something about Virgil that had him squinting to get a look. “.... Virgil, do forgive me for this.”

Without hesitating, Janus whipped out his pocket knife - why he brought it on a date, Virgil had no idea - and cut a hole in the back of Virgil’s tights, careful to avoid his skin.

“What the FUCK, Janus!?”, came the obviously horrified reply, only for Janus to take a picture with his phone and hand it to Virgil, rendering him speechless.

Sure enough, there on the inside of his right knee joint was Janus’ soul mark.

“I just happened to spot the same shade of yellow showing through and, well….”

He didn’t need to finish, Virgil was stunned to silence. All this time, how could he have missed it!?

Well, it wasn’t in the easiest to see area, and come to think of it, his mirror was a little too high off the ground for that kind of angle, and with the marks being so small..…..

The revelation was met with a shocked gasp from Roman.

“... Virgil, may I-”

“I’ll just take them off, fucking hell!”

Both men turned away to let Virgil remove his shoes and tights in peace. When he gave them the all clear, Roman was ecstatic to note his own soul mark adorning the left knee joint. Virgil glanced towards his two soulmates, letting out a soft sigh of adoration at their delighted faces. He was feeling a whole rush of emotions, but right now? The last thing he wanted was to waste any more time.

“Gimme a second to pay these guys,”, Virgil gestured to the gaggle of servers set in various expressions of celebratory delight, “Then we can go back to my place and have a movie night.”

Roman and Janus offered sweet smiles to their soulmate; that sounded like the perfect end to a wild night.

---- Bonus (Because I got attached to this universe, fight me) ----

With the cafe clearing out aside a few stragglers, Remy sighed distantly, “Well, it’s a good thing we both won, babes, I didn’t wanna get stuck with all that overtime.”

Logan gave him a perplexed look, “Actually, we both lost, therefore we both should work overtime.”

Remy pulled down his shades to glare at Logan, “.... Are you fucking kidding me? Bitch, we WON, and we get to keep our money, babes. What part of that makes you think “nope, overtime sounds better”!?”

Logan was about to go into the technicalities when he chanced a glance back at his soulmates, watching as Patton excitedly gushed over the night’s events, stimming excitedly with their apron while Emile folded his own and put it away for the night, glad to listen to Patton’s bubbly rambling. Logan couldn’t deny, the idea of staying late while his soulmates were home without him wasn’t an appealing idea. Maybe this once he’d spare Remy a lecture.

“.... You know what, you’re right. Excuse me.”

With that, Logan went to join his soulmates while Remy stifled a fond smirk and went to go ask the last patron to leave. He wanted to just go home and collapse into Remus’ arms. Ugh, he just hoped this dude wasn’t going to make a fuss. He wasn’t sure what kind of guy combined a suit, a beanie, shades, AND a face mask, but Remy just hoped he wasn’t here to rob the place.

“Alright sweetie, you gotta go. We’re closing and I wanna get home to my loveable dumbass. Let’s go-”

The man gestured to his ear. Ah. Remy rolled his eyes and leant down to speak closer,

“I said-“

The man quickly pulled down his face mask and stole a peck from Remy, a grin spreading across his face that curled excitedly to match his moustache.

“You gotta get home to meeeee~.”

Remus took off the sunglasses and beanie, revelling in the surprise that painted itself over Remy’s face. He stood up, wrapping his arms around Remy’s waist as his soulmate tried to form a sentence, “How long have you just been sitting here?!”

“Ever since I figured it’d be funny to watch Virgil realise he was trying to set up his own soulmates-”

“You- Wait, Virgil!? That’s the guy you’re always telling me about?!”

“Yep!”, Remus grinned.

Remy wrapped his arms around Remus’ neck, unsure if he wanted to strangle him or hold him closer, “...Did you know he-”

“Had two soulmates? Yep~!”

Remus chuckled and kissed Remy’s cheek, “Virge and I used to have gym together. He kept saying he couldn’t find his soulmarks, I’m surprised he never got my hints...”

Sighing annoyedly at his soulmate, Remy pulled him in for a proper kiss before he could go on more of a tangent. Once they broke apart, Remy poked Remus’ chest,

“You made me lose thirty bucks, y’know.”

Remus grinned harder and pulled out twenty dollars “Well then, I better take this generous donation from my best friend and treat you to a milkshake on the way home then...”

-----

It’s finally doooone!!

This was a long one for sure, but sue me, I got super into this one!!

I’ll be playing catch up for a while so get ready for Day 11, I ended up with a last minute change and it’s gonna be a tear jerker. @tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses @fandomsofrandom

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caranfindel · 3 years

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Fic: The whirlwind is in the thorn tree

wincest | about 3000 words | R for language and adult themes | characters: sam winchester, dean winchester

synopsis: My first and probably last stab at Wincest. No actual sex, just post-coital angst.

Flowers in the Attic is a cheesy gothic novel featuring four children who are locked in an attic by their scheming mother who hopes to hide their existence; the oldest son and daughter eventually begin an incestuous relationship.

The title is from "The Man Comes Around" by Johnny Cash, which I never heard until recently but am now obsessed with.

. . .

Part 1: Dean

It doesn't start with romance or lust. It doesn't start with that little flash of bare skin visible above his jeans when he raises his arms (it makes you crazy and you don't know why; you see him shirtless all the time but for some reason that little strip of skin that isn't meant to be showing just brings you to your knees). It doesn't start with you staring at that perfectly sculpted spot at the base of his throat and finally setting your mouth to it and marking him up the way you've dreamt about for years (you've bruised him when you were sparring, and you've battered him in anger, but you've never left a mark for the purpose of saying hands off, he's mine and oh, what you would do just for the chance). It doesn't start with you too drunk to keep holding it all in and Sam too drunk to say no (you would never, you would never).

It starts with terror. Pure balls-to-the-wall terror that you're about to lose him. A horribly fucked-up hunt where you almost die, but more importantly, you almost watch Sam die, and you stumble into your motel room, both still out of breath, still not quite sure what happened out there, and you're checking him for injuries and every breath is a silent mantra, I almost lost you, I almost lost you, and nothing is enough, you want to crawl under his skin, you want to open him up and cradle his heart in your hands to make sure it's still beating, you're holding him tighter and tighter and he's clutching you just as tight, looking into your soul with those big wet eyes and saying “Dean, Dean," like your name itself is a prayer, a request. A plea. Whatever he is pleading for, you will give it to him. And it turns out the only thing he wants is all of you.

Which is convenient. Because the only thing you want is all of him.

. . .

But then comes After, and you have to face what you've done.

When you wake up (his arm is still flung over you, it's so wrong, it's so wrong), you quietly crawl out of bed and hurry into the shower. There is no water hot enough to scrub you clean, no soap strong enough to wash away your sins (watch out for your brother, it's your most important job). When you give up and turn off the water, you realize you didn't bring any clothes to change into, and you sure as hell weren't wearing any when you fled into the bathroom. There's nothing you can do but wrap a towel around your waist and hope he's still asleep.

He's not. He's sitting up in the bed you shared. His hair is a tousled mess, a silky brown cloud, and your fingers twitch with the craving to be tangled in it again. He doesn't look disgusted, or repulsed. He looks… hopeful. Like he hasn't caught on yet that you are a monster.

(He will be the death of you.)

(He is your reason for living.)

You sit on the other bed and try not to stare at that hickey that you finally managed to put at the base of his throat. (There are other marks. Don't look at them either.)

He speaks first. "Look, I know this is some crazy Flowers in the Attic kind of shit—"

"Oh, this is so much worse than Flowers in the Attic."

"Why?" His brow furrows. "Because it's gay?"

Which stops you in your tracks, because of course that's not the problem. But also because you haven't even thought of this as gay. It's not that you're interested in guys. You're not thinking about random guys when you jack off in the shower, or when you can't fall asleep, or when your life sucks and your heart hurts and you need an escape. It's not guys. It's not anyone else. You've chased a lot of tail over the years, trying to convince yourself otherwise, but it's just Sam. Only, always and forever, Sam.

But now he's looking at you like you're some kind of monster, like being a homophobe is somehow worse than being a sick bastard who wants to fuck his little brother. So you quickly say "No, dammit, you know that's not it."

"Then what? Why is it worse?"

And it's not fair that Sam is both your victim and the priest who will hear your confession; it's not fair that you're going to have to say the thing that will make him hate you, make him walk away from you again, but, well. Life stopped being fair when you were four years old. He would have figured it out anyway. He's too damn smart not to eventually realize whose fault it all is.

"It's worse because I raised you, Sam. I did this to you. I made you want this."

"What?" Sam's voice goes up an octave, incredulous. "You're saying you groomed me?"

"Not on purpose! But yeah, subconsciously, I must have done something! I must have screwed you up somehow. Otherwise, you wouldn't… there's no way you would have…"

"Slept with my brother? So there's no way I would have wanted to have sex with my brother unless someone snuck into my brain and planted the idea there? Someone must have made me want it? Is that what happened?"

Oh, Jesus, Sam just needs to stop talking, because he's making it worse. Yes, obviously you planted that idea in his sweet, trusting little head. Who knows when or where or how, but obviously you did that. Obviously you took him, the brother you were supposed to watch out for, you took his innocent love for you and twisted it into something awful and self-serving.

But he's not looking at you like he just realized what a monster you are, like he finally saw the darkness you've managed to hide all this time. He's smiling.

"You're an idiot," he says. "But okay, let's say you're right. Let's say the only reason I would want to have sex with my brother is because someone raised me wrong. Someone screwed with my head when I was little and made me want this. Then who did it to you?"

No, wait. That's not. You stare at him, mute.

"If you raised me to want this," he continues, "who did it to you? Dad? Is that what was going on, all those times you guys went off on a hunt and left me at a hotel? Dad spent the whole time convincing you that at some point you were going to have to throw me on the bed and have your way with me?"

"Dammit, Sam, that's not funny."

"I'm not trying to be funny, Dean. I'm just trying to show you how ridiculous it is to blame yourself. No one made you want it, and no one made me want it. It's just a product of our fucked-up lives. There are no victims here."

Is that possible? You want (so much, so much) to believe it. But even if he's not your victim, he still has to see how wrong it is. You've ripped your heart wide open and he's staring right at its dark, festering core. Surely he sees that.

"It may be a victimless kind of fucked up," you say cautiously, afraid to break whatever spell has been cast. "But it's still pretty fucked up."

"I'm not saying it's normal," he says. "You and me, this is definitely not normal. But we left normal behind a long time ago. We were never gonna have that. And this is something we do get to have."

Oh, okay. Sam can't have normal, so he's settling for Dean Winchester, the world's shittiest consolation prize. Well, that's the only part of this that makes sense. And you're not too proud to accept that role. You look at the carpet (you can't look at him) and nod. He will leave you again someday, when he does find normal, but for now? This is enough. This is still more than you ever thought you'd have. More than you deserve.

Sam throws back the covers. He is still very, very naked. Bruised from the hunt, and bruised from what happened after the hunt. (And so goddamn beautiful. He doesn't even know.) He gets out of bed and sits next to you. Not touching, but close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. When you do finally force yourself to look at him, he smiles at you again, that fond smile that stabs you right through the heart. You would give anything to have him sitting next to you, smiling that smile at you, for the rest of your life.

"You know," he says, "all those years I spent chasing normal, it was because I didn't think I could have what I really wanted. This, Dean. You and me. This is what I want. I wouldn't trade it for normal. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

If that's true. Oh God, if that's true.

"So," he continues, "maybe we just appreciate it. Maybe we hold onto it. I mean. Only if you want to."

Only if you want to. Like there's anything you want more. Sam is offering you all you've ever wanted, and all you have to do is reach out and take it.

You've lost the ability to speak, but whatever words you came up with would surely fuck it all up anyway. You take his hand and entwine his fingers in your own. He squeezes. You squeeze back. It's just one more in an endless history of wordless conversations, but it's the most important one you've ever had. You both sit there quietly for a minute, and you are very aware that you are wrapped in a towel and he is naked and you're holding hands and… it's not weird. It's okay. It's better than okay.

"You know," he says, "the most disturbing thing about all of this is that you just admitted you read Flowers in the Attic."

You have to clear your throat before you can answer. "It was a book? I saw the movie on TV once, when I couldn't sleep."

It's a lie. He knows it's a lie. He was there with you, that awful winter in Nebraska, when Dad dumped you at that weird old house for a couple of weeks and the only thing to do was pick through the pile of ragged paperbacks some teenage girl left behind. He knows you read it. He doesn't know you got to the incest scene and tossed the book away, no, no, I would never do that to him. I would never. He doesn't know you picked it up again, later, hoping it had a happy ending.

He knows you're a liar. He knows you're twisted and wrong. He loves you anyway. And maybe you don't deserve it, but you'll take it anyway, and hold onto it for as long as you can.

Part 2: Sam

Something about almost losing Dean puts everything into perspective. And yes, you almost died too, but it's hard to see your own death as comparable. Dean's near-death is what matters, the thing that paints everything in stark black and white.

There's no time to talk, no time to wonder, no time to check each other for injuries and try to figure out how you escaped this time. He shoves you into the Impala and speeds away from the scene, and you stare at his (beautiful) profile and think I can't do this any more, I can't die and not tell you how I feel, I can't let you die without knowing what you mean to me, I can't do it, I won't.

But it's not the first time you've told yourself that, or the second or third. And you know you'll fail, in the end, as you always have. Except. Except that when you finally make it into the room you're both still a little panicky, still having a hard time catching your breath, hearts pounding, and he says are you hurt, are you hurt as he paws at you, and then holds you tight and won't let go (you don't want him to, oh God you don't want him to) and you grab him, hold him just as tight and this is it, this is the moment, use your words, dammit, but all you can do is keep repeating his name like an idiot and you finally just kiss him and it turns out neither of you needs words after all.

. . .

Dean's hasty exit wakes you, and your heart leaps panicky into your throat for a minute. You fucked it up, he's running; all those years you held your feelings in check and now you've fucked it up and he's running. But he simply rushes into the bathroom and turns on the shower. He showers for a long time, which gives you time to think about what to say. Because you know he's going to be freaked out. You know he's going to say this is wrong, this is bad, we can't do this again. But there is no going back now; you can only go forward. You salted and burned just brothers last night. The only option now is brothers plus whatever this is. You'll have to make your way through whatever objections he has.

When he finally comes back into the room, every speck of his normal bravado is gone. He looks frightened and guilty (and beautiful, so damn beautiful, with the morning sun peeping through the flimsy curtains highlighting him in gold, picking out each eyelash as if God himself were directing it) and your heart melts like it always does. You are so fucked.

He clutches the towel wrapped around his hips tightly, and you're pretty sure the only reason he hasn't already put three layers of clothing between you and him is because in his hurry to get into the the shower he didn't take time to grab his armor. So, yeah. He's freaked out. It's okay. You'll talk him down (there is no choice, there is no other option) and it will be okay.

But it turns out you are not at all prepared for what his real objection is. Not at all.

You could tell him the truth. Yes, you made me want you. Just by being you. By being beautiful and brave and smart and funny and strong and exasperating. You made me love you in a way you are not supposed to love a brother, just by being you.

Or another truth is this. You think you were grooming me? When I was thirteen? When I was a gangly, clumsy, morose little barely-a-teenager? Because that's when it started, Dean. It wasn't anything you did. You weren't grooming me, you were busy chasing anything in a skirt. I had just turned thirteen years old and all I wanted was you.

But there is another very important truth, which is that you're both kind of irreparably fucked up. And this is possibly a silver lining to that. The fact that you're fucked up the same way, together.

"I'm not saying it's normal," you tell him. “You and me, this is definitely not normal. But we left normal behind a long time ago. We were never gonna have that. And this is something we do get to have." He has to see that, right? He has to understand that you two cannot measure yourselves by other peoples' yardsticks.

His reaction is to withdraw a little bit. Does he not believe you? Can he not tell, even now, that you love him so much it burns? You have no choice. There is no going back. You get out of bed and sit next to him. "You know, all those years I spent chasing normal, it was because I didn't think I could have what I really wanted. This, Dean. You and me. This is what I want. I wouldn't trade it for normal. I wouldn't trade it for anything. So, maybe we just appreciate it. Maybe we hold onto it. I mean. Only if you want to."

You gave him an out. You pray he doesn't take it. He doesn't. Thank God (or no, probably not God), he doesn't. You sit next to him, naked as the day you were born, and he doesn't flinch, doesn't lean away, doesn't say no, Sam, this is weird, this is bad, this is wrong. He just looks up at you like he's dumbfounded, but in a good way. And then he takes your hand. He's clasped your hand thousands of times, shepherding you across busy streets as a child, hauling you out of freshly dug graves as an adult. But this is the first time he's actually held your hand, and it feels like something greater; like a vow.

You need to change the subject pretty quickly, before you make a goddamn fool of yourself.

"You know, the most disturbing thing about all of this is that you just admitted you read Flowers in the Attic."

Dean's voice is hoarse. "It was a book? I saw the movie on TV once, when I couldn't sleep."

It's a lie. You know it's a lie. You made sure he saw you reading it, and you watched him pick it up after you were done. You had a thousand imaginary conversations where he said what did you think about that book and you said siblings locked in an attic for years, all they had was each other, it makes sense that their relationship would transform into something else, it wasn't hurting anybody, and after all, incest is only taboo because of the risk of birth defects, and many civilizations actually encouraged marriage between siblings, it's not really a big deal, and he said exactly, especially in a situation like that where they're literally in their own little world, and I've been thinking, and then and then and then.

None of that happened. What happened was he turned 18 and then 19 and then 20 and grew more and more maddeningly insane and reckless and beautiful and you realized that either he was going to die, or he was going to keep breathing but remain forever out of your reach, and either way you couldn't live like this any more.

But now he's sitting on the bed next to you, almost as naked as you are, holding your hand.

"You want to get some breakfast?" he says.

"I would love some breakfast. Let me shower first."

He gently swats you on the back of the head. "Go on then, Princess. Wash your pretty pretty hair."

The knot of fear that's been squirming in your stomach since you woke up quietly unclenches. And for the first time in a very long time, you think everything might be okay after all.

#my fic #spn #wincest #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam/dean #i don't even know who i am any more

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mrallnight57-blog · 3 years

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The Crystal of Mordokia

Chapter 6

Gothic Mirror stood on the second floor, above the stage watching the Punk Rockers, and other members of the Gothic Lights prepare for tonight's event. Suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Gothic Mirror didn't like being touched, especially by those he felt were inferior. He slowly turned to the man touching his shoulder, and gave him a stare that showed he greatly disapproved of the man's actions.

The man tapping his shoulder was one of the Punk Rockers. Gothic Mirror noticed that the name on his jacket said Spin Doctor. When Gothic Mirror began staring at him. The man immediately put his hands up to try and show, he was not there to cause him any trouble.

"Hey... uh Gothic Mirror was it? I'm not here to start any trouble... I.. I'm just here to ask a couple of questions."

Gothic Mirror just stared at Spin Doctor in silence. Spin Doctor looked away, and began scratching his head. It was at this point Gothic Mirror realized he needed to say something, or the complete moron was just going to keep standing there, and not say anything. So Gothic Mirror broke his silence. "What? What do you feel you need to ask me?"

"Oh... uh... thanks." Spin Doctor smiled. He was happy he finally got permission to speak. "So The Disciples aren't going to be playing there music until midnight tonight. What are your plans until then?"

Gothic Mirror seemed confused by the question. "What do you mean?"

Spin Doctor began to elaborate. "Well, you don't have any food, also I imagine there probably not going to be any music until the band plays. So I was wondering what you had planned."

Gothic Mirror stood there puzzled for a moment. "Well I rarely plan events like this."

Spin Doctor scratched his head again. "Wait. You're a leader of a new religion, and you don't plan events for your followers."

Gothic Mirror began to get offended. "I'm a very busy man, and I depend on others to get the message out!"

Spin Doctor backed away. "Dude! I'm trying to help you out here. Look, before I joined the Punk Rockers, I was a dj. Let me get the boys to go out and get some food, and I'll go back to our hide out, and get my music."

Suddenly Gothic Mirror noticed Mr. Tucker and some teenagers enter the room below. Gothic Mirror then turned back to Spin Doctor. "Okay. Do what you think is best. I have business to tend to."

"Cool." Spin Doctor smiled. "What kind of music you want. Rock, heavy metal, alternative. I also got some rap and hip hop."

Gothic Mirror reached out with both hands, and grabbed Spin Doctor by his jacket. "Heavy metal and alternative is fine, but heaven help you if you play any rap or hip hop in this building! If you do, I will have you pissing your pants, and hiding under your bed for the rest of your life!"

Spin Doctor was shaking. He swallowed hard. "O..okay, well, I will not grab those cds then."

Gothic Mirror let him go. "Good. Now begone with you." Gothic Mirror began walking towards the stairs, so he could greet Mr. Tucker.

"Oh yeah! One more thing." Spin Doctor had called out to Gothic Mirror.

Gothic Mirror was getting agitated. He turned to Spin Doctor and yelled. "What!?!"

At that moment Gothic Mirror could hear Mr. Tucker telling his guest. "Don't be afraid. Our leader is actually a very kind man."

Gothic Mirror felt a rush of embarrassment come over him. Normally he could keep his cool, but the stress of the event, and the inoance of being bothered, got the best of him.

Spin Doctor took a deep breath, and very quickly said, " I just wanted you to know that Rolo was preparing The Disciples dressing room. So that when they got here, they would be comfortable."

Gothic Mirror was trying to calm down. "Excellent. Tell Rolo thank you for putting me in contact with them." Gothic Mirror then turned, and made his way down the stairs.

Once Gothic Mirror got down stairs, he began making his way to Mr.Tucker and his students. Once Mr. Tucker spotted him. Mr. Tucker began walking towards him to greet him. "Master it is so great to see you. It's been quite sometime since last we saw each other.

Gothic Mirror rolled his eyes, they had actually saw each other that morning, during the break at the government lab. In fact the break in had caused Tucker to be late for work.

Gothic Mirror gave a faint laugh. He was pretending to be happy to see Tucker, but truth be told, he could care less about him, or anyone else for that matter. People were just tools to him, and the moment they lost their usefulness, he throw them out, or dispose of them.

Gothic Mirror looked over at the students. "I see you brought some fine re...cruits." Gothic Mirror trailed off for a second, because one of the students took him by surprise.

Gothic Mirror stared at Franklin. He was a little confused by why someone like him would be here. "An African American?"

Franklin's eyes widen. It was at this point he noticed Gothic Mirror staring a hole through him, and all he could think was. Oh shit! This guy is racist. After a few seconds of awkward silence. Franklin decided to say something. "Um... you can just say black."

Gothic Mirror gave an awkward laugh, he realized he was freaking the boy out. He also didn't want the boy to think he was racist. Truth be told Gothic Mirror wasn't racist at all, because he hated everyone equally.

Gothic Mirror smiled at Franklin. "I do want to say, and I mean no disrespect, and I want you to know all is welcome here. I was just taken off guard, because..." Gothic Mirror paused trying to think of a polite way to say what he wanted to say.

Franklin finally intervened. "I think you're trying to say, you never met a black person interested in the a cult.

"Exactly!" Gothic Mirror smiled.

"It's cool man." Franklin said with a smile. "You see, my boy Matt and I have been friends since kindergarten, and when he started getting into it. I sort of got into it too. I actually hear that shit all the time, my parents hate that I'm into it. They were hoping I would get into basketball, or football instead. So I'm use to people being shocked, that this is what I'm into."

Gothic Mirror turned to Matt. "Ah so you're the one who has brought this group together. You must be a very wise young man."

Suddenly Gothic Mirror heard one of the young ladies clear her throat. "Actually I'm the one who brought us together."

Gothic Mirror stared at the young woman, and under his breath muttered. "Of course it was a woman who brought them together." Gothic Mirror hated young people. Even though he himself was only twenty nine. He felt that he was more wise and mature than people three times his age. Most young people were rude and felt intitled. Which was the biggest reason why he didn't want to deal with them, but he needed them to spread his message.

He also currently wasn't very fond of woman and girls. This was for an entirely different reason, which he didn't want to think about it at this moment.

Gothic Mirror turned to the young woman who spoke. "And you are?"

"Samantha!" The girl extended her hand.

Gothic Mirror stared at her hand for a second before reaching out and gently grabbing the tips of her fingers, giving it one shake and letting it go."

Samantha looked at her hand to make sure nothing nasty was on. Normally guys couldn't wait to touch her hand, or some part of her body, but for some reason, this guy seemed to want nothing to do with her. For a second she thought. Maybe this guy is gay.

Mr. Tucker approached Gothic Mirror and put his arm around him. Gothic Mirror stared coldly at Mr.Tucker as to tell him, that he did not want him to touch him. Mr. Tucker seem to ignore the que, and began whispering in his ear. While pointing at the tallest member of the group. Which happen to be Tim.

"Look at this young man over here. He be perfect for... Mr. Tucker paused. Then nodded towards Tim. "The plan."

Gothic Mirror smiled. "Ahh, yes this lad would be perfect."

This got both Tim and Katey's attention. Mr. Tucker turned to them and said, "Tim tell our wonderful leader about your time playing football."

Tim was taken a back by the inquiry, and didn't understand why his time in football mattered. "Well, I was middle line backer last year, and I did it, was because my parents forced me. I actually hate football."

Gothic Mirror removed Mr. Tucker's arm from around his shoulder, and stepped towards Tim. "Yes. I agree. Football is a barbaric sport, but seeing that you are a powerful young man. We could definitely use someone like you."

Katey was beginning feel uncomfortable, while Samantha fully confirmed to herself, that, yup the man was gay. Katey didn't like how these older men were talking about, and looking at her Timmy. In fact Mr. Tucker just freaked her out in general, and his so called Master, seemed like a scum bag. Katey just couldn't stay silent for any longer. "Hey! Aren't you guys suppose to be showing us a Demon!?!"

Gothic Mirror and Mr. Tucker looked at each other and laughed. Gothic Mirror then turned back to Katey. "The Demon is not set to appear until after the concert."

Katey folded her arms. "You know. I'm starting to think you guys are full of shit!"

Gothic Mirror smiled, then began walking towards Katey. Katey's friends began urging her to calm down. Tim even said, "Babe, be quite. You are going to fuck things up." But before anyone else could say anything. Gothic Mirror was in front of Katey.

Gothic Mirror smiled, and placed a finger on Katey's temple. She tried to back away, but for some reason she couldn't move. It was like her body completely froze.

Gothic Mirror leaned in close to Katey and whispered. "You want to see a Demon. I'm going to show you a Demon.

#horror #supernatural #super hero #my writing

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thecsquirrel · 4 years

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The last time I was effusive and hopeful about a show that was centered around a bad ass woman warrior, interesting mythology, blood, guts, and maintext Queerness, Syfy ripped my heart out of my chest and canceled the show; therefore, I’m going to try to temper my glee and even my praise for Netflix’s Warrior Nun.

Side note: We need to really talk about Netflix’s promos and advertising. The algorithm is the only reason why I found this show, much like October Faction (another canceled show. Ugh.)

Light spoilers ahead...

The Great and Good:

A fun take on the age old good and evil demon fighting story.

Love the setting and the use of Catholicism which lends the show a great mix of Gothicism and of course Women With Swords!

Shotgun Mary and Sister Beatrice. Period. For me (and judging by responses plenty of others) they are the heart of the show. There are moments when their characters feel tropey, but Toya Turner’s honesty and Kristina Young’s subtlety keep the characters from being throw away.

The action. Everybody got in on it at some point and I was not disappointed. Beatrice’s hallway fight, Mary and Sister Lilith in all time zones. LOL. The final fight. Seriously, they were all well done and well executed.

The Meh

Ava, Ava, Ava. The annoying obnoxious lead played cheekily and so pitch-perfect that I want hollered with happiness when Mary booted her off that cliff. LOL But seriously, Ava’s character is actually a good thing. Another post I saw reminded me that Ava’s turn as the seemingly unworthy hero who is imbued with super powers but is also a complete selfish assshat until they learn to grow- is one we don’t often get for female characters. Normally, it is the cis-male white heterosexual that gets to be a jerk while becoming the hero and we accept it, but here it’s a young woman and my word, do I want to punch her. In fact, the scene where Beatrice calls her out is nicely done and more importantly it was resolved maturely.

About those twists and reveals

Most of the twists I enjoyed, even the ones I suspected. I will say that after sitting with it for a day, I, too, agree that the final reveal did not need to happen. It was unnecessary. Obviously, it changes the dynamic so it will be interesting

My Big Gripe

Holy Disappearing Lesbians! Now, listen, as a pretty much lapsed Catholic I KNOW there are issues (to put lightly) with homosexuality but it is 20 damn 20 in the worst year of forever and I think we have moved past the point of subtext-only Lesbians/Gay/Queer people.

I am here for not having to throw a ticker-tape parade with rainbows and unicorns every time a Queer person comes across the screen, but let’s also be EXPLICIT and CLEAR.

GIVE ME MY DAMN SHANNON/MARY FLASHBACK YOU COWARDS!!!

And I get it, they are nuns and it’s the church, but come the bleep on. If one more person said “your friend” to Mary, I was going to punch through the screen. (It was like my mother introducing my gf after I came out and she was clearly still struggling but she was also really trying. Whew! Trigger.)

Anyway, fix that shit for next season. And yes, Ava and Beatrice for a nice slow burn win.

Closing Thoughts

Ultimately, this turned out to be a lot better than I thought it was going to be. I’m not really happy about that cliffhanger they left us with, so maybe they know they are getting renewed. If not, that’s just irresponsible. There is clearly a wealth of material here and plenty of mysteries to figure out and demons to fight, so perhaps it will get another shot. I won’t hold my breath because again, SyFy and Vagrant Queen. (Yes, somewhere is another rant about shows with Black/POC leads and how they are not promoted -on Netflix at least- and how they are not given a chance to grow, but I will save that for after Warrior Nun gets renewed.)

Happy Binging!

#warrior nun #warrior nun netflix #shotgun mary #sister beatrice #ava #sister lilith #maryxshannon #how can a show so obviously queer not be queer #will it get renewed #rants and rambles #long post

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glitterytidalwavedragon · 3 years

Text

Putting it Out There (A Biracial Child)

I’ve always wanted to address this, I just never knew where or how to. But, as I write, I see the influences come into play more and more (More so when I am writing my B.B fanfic and the Tourist), so I thought, now is a good time as any and this is the only account and platform I feel safe (maybe because I don’t have 200+ friends or followers here who know me outside of social media). I also feel as if this prospective of life isn’t given much attention or heard.

I, as some may know cause I had commented as such, am a biracial child. My father is a Caribbean Hispanic male and my mother of German and Italian descent.

This does not mean I have the best of both worlds. In fact, most of the times I feel alienated.

Born in the early 90′s, the song “Livin’ La Vida Loca” by Ricky Martin was every where. My mother would tell me that song was about me, now I was 5-6ish. I thought she referred to me liking cats, and trying to go out to perform a crap version of ‘Singing in the Rain’ along with the love for magic.

No, it wasn’t so innocent. It was straight up because of my skin tone. I looked like the girl the song was describing. I had no idea. Nor did I realize a silent war was raging in my family.

Growing up was...hard to say the least. It is even harder when you have racism on both sides pointing fingers at each other. On my mother’s side, my aunt and uncle wouldn’t allow me to visit unless it was a holiday to which there was pressure from the family. Out of spite, they would invite my much older siblings father over to cause a fight (The man did not celebrate christmas). Meanwhile my other aunt would tell me over and over again I was Italian. In the end, during these events I would end up alone and not know why.

Now lets turn to the other side of the family, my father’s. My first words had been Spanish. Yet, I lived with English speaking relatives... guess who stopped speaking Spanish for a long while. When visiting my family on his side, none of of my relatives would address me, only if they had to because my father was not around. These people knew how to speak English, very well even though they had moved from their native island. They just refused to speak to me. This sucked cause where it was 3 people on my mother’s side, it was 16 aunt’s and uncles on my fathers not counting the dozens of cousins I had. So, as the other family events, I ended up alone not knowing why.

The answer was rather simple but much to complicated for my child self. Both sides of my family was and still is completely racist. My white mother was near exiled for being with a man many would consider black (he considers himself Spanish and oddly doesn’t get the fascination on why his skin matters or makes me worry about him when he is stopped by cops...). I was the ‘mixed’ baby, a simple of her family’s shame.

My father’s side could not care what color my mother was, only that she was not Spanish. For those who don’t know, Spanish can be an array of color, its cool. But, she was no Spanish, did not speak Spanish and therefore my father was exiled by everyone but his own mother for many years (which is why we ended up in family events, my mama wanted to see her youngest grandchild by her baby boy). This meant being put at the back table, being openly mocked, and never told of big family events like babies or weddings.

This only lead to more fighting at home and in the end even my own siblings, alienated me. It was a pretty lonely experience.

This carried on to school and friendships. Elementary was not fun, but I felt the effects more in Jr. and High school. In elementary I was grouped with the other Spanish kids, because starting in late summer I had my Spanish tan on and therefore, I was not white to other white kids. But I did not speak Spanish. At one point I spoke gibberish to just to be able to hang with the Spanish kids at recess. It worked and I still don’t know how.

In Jr. ahhhh... at one point my family was making good money, which originally, it once took the income of five adults to keep us afloat, now it just took 2. My father and my grandpa (who I will talk about later). We moved to a ‘nicer’ neighborhood. In the early 2000′s that mean, a white neighborhood. Boy, did I stick out.

Now you might think “But you grew up in NYC, said you were from Brooklyn” well, here is a fun fact. Nothing is more segregated than NYC schools. The north did not do busing like the south did, so white schools stayed mostly white while schools in low income areas stayed mostly black or other minority races. I was a very tan child going into a white neighbor hood to a white school. Lets top it off that I played video games and Yu-Gi-Oh, HA!

I received hell. I had legit parents sneer at me, and girls asking me if I had sex because I was Spanish. A 12 year old, got hit on by 15 year olds because they thought my race made me easy. I was 12, all I wanted was to collect cards and play Pokemon on my stupid advance, I had no time for boys unless they were anime. But... someone (more than likely their parents) had set these ideas in their head on how Spanish people, more so girls, acted.

Then I realized, I really liked all things Gothic. A Spanish Goth.... it pains me to think about it. Everything from poser, to faker, and ‘trying to act white’ was laid on me. I could not wait for Jr. High to end. And when it did, a whole 180 happen.

I was no longer Spanish. I did not know why, just everyone referred to me as ‘the ONLY white girl’ in the school and that is not a joke. My school, was dubbed the worse in all of Brooklyn and shut down, which I believe it was dubbed that because of the 1% white population... I was the 1 after my second year when the other white kid (who was a boy people asked was my boyfriend) graduated. Now, in high school it wasn’t the kids who gave me hell. It was the teachers.

In fact, high school led me to meet others who were also feeling alienated. One of which I am very close to, a black man who is Jewish (adopted by a white couple) and gay. He did not where he belonged either. In the mid-00′s to be a black gay man living near the ghetto was dangerous. I can’t count how many times he had to hide who he was so he wouldn’t get shot. Nor could I count how many times my other friend coped with being a biracial black man who loved anime and being goth so much he was bullied for it when we weren’t together (who I ended up dating throughout high school).

Suddenly being labelled white get me an acceptance I was not expecting. I ended up being popular against my best efforts and people who I did not know knew me. At 15 I did not get what had changed, because no one had told me yet. No, I figured it out at 16, when I was placed in senior English because of my grades. My English teacher told me, I was white, in the worse why I could ever imagine.

My English teacher, a beautiful black woman who celebrated her African roots, gave an assignment one day. I was one out of five in a class of thirty who did it, because I did it in her class the day before. I played sports, so did half the other kids, I did not have time after school. This did not sit well with her, she was mad, which was an understatement. So, she turned to the class and said

“This is why our people end up in Jail or having babies to early. Because like black people don’t take education seriously.” Then called be out by name and continued “is why she will end up being successful, because white people know the importance of an education.”

First off, she was very racist towards EVERYONE, second I at 16, who was always called Spanish in school was now labelled white in front of everyone by an adult. I was both confused and terrified as my boyfriend who knew my family cared JACK SHIT about education looked ready to kill her. Luckily, he just walked out of class and waited for me as I was too studded to move.

I later asked him if he thought I was white, he admitted he did until he saw my father and called me biracial. For the first time in 16 years, I had been called biracial. Went home, did not tell anyone what happened, asked my mother if I was biracial and she said yes. To shorten this up, this was what life felt like,

At home, I had no race. Neither side welcomed me.

In school, I was told I was Spanish and had to fake my way in the Spanish group.

Jr High, I am now trying to distance myself from everyone as being Spanish makes me a target.

High School, I thought being Spanish would be a good thing. Now everyone is telling me I am white.

I had not idea who or what I was.

All I ever wanted was to be me. I wanted to understand why my family never got close to me, and I wanted friends who were friends because I was me.

It was like I was being ripped to pieces. I could be what others wanted or be no one at all. I had no idea what to do. If people at the new school found out I was Spanish, would I become a target again? I was allowed to freely play games, watch anime, and be my gothic self if I were white. But that also meant I could not hang out with my friends who lived in the Ghetto, shouldn’t like rap, R&B, and reggaetón or use the slang I grew up always using.

To be a Spanish person trying to be white

A white person trying to be black/another minority of color.

I had watched as the former got my friend (boyfriend at the time) kicked out of classrooms as he was compared to those involved in columbine shooting from teachers since he was different. Also the hell he received from other boys for cosplaying and playing anime based card games. At one point it was so rough he thought about dropping out and I begged him to stay along with his mother. I was so afraid of going through that again.

So I kept my mouth shut.

I took on the military standard of ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”. My father never came to the school because he worked so much so no one knew. Everyday, I just took what my English teacher said to be without any force back. When Obama was voted in, she told me I had no right to celebrate, that my people had JFK and that Obama was for all the minorities to celebrate. I fell into a dark hole of hating myself. My home life was awful and now school I had to pretend to be something I wasn’t comfortable with. I started ditching classes, got into more fights than I would care to admit, did some really shady stuff and began hurting myself.

The only joy I got was when I busted my ass grades wise and got out of school six months early. I did not have to go to school anymore and I could lock myself away to be no one but myself. It was lonely but I found company in books and my art. Through art I was allowed to be me and no one could take that away.

When I returned for Graduation I June, did I get the final laugh on that English bitch. My mother and father showed up, she asked if my father was a cab driver helping my mother as she had gone blind. I told her, rather happily, that was my father. She went from joy to sheer disgusts faster than you can blink. For years she kept talking about who ‘mix babies’ never got any where as their fathers were never around. Yet, despite me hardly showing up, I gradated top of my class, never had a baby nor was I ‘loose’ (In fact I feared sex as a teenager), and my mixed couple parents as she lovingly called it, were together.

She walked away from me and never said a word since.

But now school was over, college was starting. I still hadn’t figured out who I was. Was I white/Italian or Spanish. In college I learnt no one was going to tell me who I was anymore, nor did they care. At home, it was still a battle of the races. Finally, one of my cousins spoke up and declared I wasn’t Spanish as I knew nothing of the language. At home, my aunt and uncle decided I was Spanish and called me a ‘Spick’ as a joke. I did not take it as one and therefore I was called ‘uptight’.

My siblings also informed me, if I wanted free college to put down Spanish on everything unless it was the census. Then I should be white. Sometimes I still run into people who think I am one over the other. I had people come up to be speaking Spanish to be highly offended when I tell them I don’t speak the Language well. (I tried learning but it is hard when motivation is not there).

In recent years, I had someone at work tell me how they met a Spanish person, shockingly where my father works, and then described in detail my father and then tell me they thought he was illegal since he looked the type. All because they thought I was white... proud to say that person got fired for being racist.I did also inform them that was my father to their response was “you’re one of them”.

It never ends.

No, the reason why I haven’t been driven insane is because of my late grandpa. My grandpa was a man I adopted to be my grandfather. My biological grandfathers on both sides died long before I was born and the man I adopted was close to the family and acted like a father to my parents. He was a good man and the reason I had a childhood.

He once went through the same, Italian/Jewish, you wouldn’t think there would be a problem but when he was growing up that equaled Catholic/Jewish, to which he too was either pinned in the middle or rejected by both sides, this is the 1930′s-1940s. He gave me the best piece of advance ever.

To be myself.

That if I were myself, then it did not matter. The moment I stopped being who I am, that passing or faking would never tell me who my real friends were. That if he, could love me for who I was, a weird girl who liked boy things and drawing strange looking characters, then anyone else could. Being a stranger to myself would never bring happiness. So, after years of not listening to that, I finally decided to listen to my Grandpa.

I know who I am, I know the history of my families. They might not like that I am not what they want me to be, but they don’t have to live with me. I have to live with who I am. My friends are my friends because they know who I am, not who they think I should be.

So for all my biracial brothers, sisters and them’s, be yourself. Don’t try to force yourself into a mold, it isn’t worth it. None of it is worth it.

Look yourself in the mirror and say your name. Say it loud and let everyone know they can not define who you are, and so what if they say you don’t belong, guess what? You do if you want. You belong because YOU say so, because that blood runs in your veins as well as theirs. So you get to make that choice!

Make that choice of being you! Define yourself to YOUR standards.

Don’t let anyone take that away. I know I won’t.

So here I see myself! A strange fox who changes coats with the seasons, that loves anime and video games, who plays Yu-Gi-Oh and listens to opera and Metal while can twerk and get low to Daddy Yankee! Who eats sushi and makes a mean chicken cutlet but can also make the best empanda with beans and rice with the rest of them!

And no one can take that from me.

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spaceskam · 4 years

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He didn't know any better.

That's what Michael was going to say if anyone asked him and he was sticking to it.

He tiptoed about the body on the floor, careful not to give in to the desire to lay down beside him and kiss him until he woke up so they could have a replay of the night before. He couldn't remember a time he'd been so fucking desperate to get his hands on someone that they couldn't make it past the kitchen floor, but there was always a first for something. However, he had a final in twenty minutes and he didn't actually remember the guy's name, so nicities felt benign.

Still, considering that was the best fuck of his life, he took a few second to dig for a pen and paper in the apartment's tiny kitchenette. He settled for a napkin and a sharpie, using his leg as a counter so he didn't stain the actual one.

I had fun with you, let's do it again. Call me.

It wasn't until he was speeding to school that he realized he didn't actually give him his number. He gave himself a second to loudly yell at himself over it and didn't care if the old lady on the next car over was starting at him. Leave it him to him to fuck something so good up.

"Do I even have to ask?" Isobel sighed as he rushed into class with five minutes to spare. He looked at her with wide, innocent eyes. "You're in the same outfit as yesterday, don't look at me like that. You decided your midterm was a pitstop on your walk of shame?"

"Shut up," he said, sitting as close to her as he could without Dr. Glower throwing a fit. Still, she leaned over and pressed her thumb into a sore spot on his neck.

"You didn't even try to cover that up," she mused. He looked at her with wide eyes before pulling out his phone and staring at his reflection. Sure enough, he had a massive fucking hickey. It was only made worse when Isobel plucked at his t-shirt to peer down his back. "Did you have sex with a fucking cat? You're covered in scratches."

For the first time in a long time, Michael's cheeks flushed and his skin got hot all over. Oh, embarrassment, a punishment from God himself for premarital sex. Or was it the gay sex thing? Was it both?

"You're usually better about not getting all that on you," Isobel said skeptically.

"I didn't know any better," Michael said. Isobel snorted.

"I think whoever you slept with didn't know any better," she said. Probably accurately. As good and confident as the guy was, Michael could tell it was the first time he was really putting some things into action. But Michael wasn't about to say that. "So, who was she?"

Michael gave her a look and she looked at him with far too much delight.

"He?" she corrected, "How'd you even get at an angle for a guy to–you know what? Nevermind, don't wanna know. I do wanna know who you let cover you in fucking marks."

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't actually remember ever asking his name."

Isobel stared at him like he'd grown an extra head.

"You let a stranger do that? How hot was he? Where'd you meet him?"

"Yes, very, Fantasia."

Before Isobel could grill him anymore, Dr. Glower walked in and Michael had never been more thankful.

"Will you leave me alone?"

"No!"

Michael groaned, but he didn't move out of her grasp. She was busy covering up the bruise on his neck with makeup that was absolutely not his shade but he'd rather a weird pale splotch than all the judgemental looks.

"You never go to gay bars by yourself," she said, "You never go anywhere by yourself."

"Yeah, well, I was stressing about the final and I needed to relax, so I went out. It was late and I didn't want to mess with your studying," he said.

All day he'd been not-so-subtly trying to find the guy from the night before. He knew they both went to UNM because that was the one thing they had talked about. Michael had seen him, bought him a drink, asked about school, his major, and if he wanted to dance. The rest of the night was a blur of tan skin and intoxicating kisses and unrivaled desire. Names just... didn't seem important in the moment.

"You think you're gonna see him again?" Isobel asked. Michael sighed.

"I have no idea. I don't know his name and I told him to call me without giving him my number, so he probably thinks I'm too dumb to talk to again."

"Uh, yeah, about that," Isobel laughed, "Any guy who decked you out in little trophies was into you much more than a one night stand."

The idea alone had him smiling.

"Michael Guerin!"

Michael turned to see Liz Ortecho making a fucking beeline for him. He grinned and opened his arms, letting her bodyslam into him before lifting her off the ground.

"I missed you!" she all but screamed into his ear. He laughed and squeezed her until she gave a little squeak. He let her down onto her feet.

"I can't believe you're back already."

"I was ready to come home," she said, still smiling. Liz had gotten a fancy semester abroad in Madrid because, well, she was great at what she did. "Did you know they spoke a completely different kind of Spanish? Like, I knew, but I didn't know, you know?"

"Yeah," Michael laughed, "Man, I really fucking missed you."

"I know!" she gushed, going in for another hug. He welcomed it happily. She was the first friend he'd made in college and they had spent many nights that started as a study session but became long, in depth talks about their life and goals and now she was one of his favorite people in the universe. "Listen, we're having a little welcome-home-slash-fuck-finals party on Friday at my friend Alex's. Come?"

"You know it."

"Awesome, I'll send you the address," she said, reaching up to give him a kiss on the cheek. He couldn't stop smiling. "You owe me lunch."

"I know," he agreed, giving a small salute as she walked away.

They never said goodbyes, they both agreed that felt too final.

For a genius, Michael was a fucking moron.

He was frozen in his car, staring up at the apartment that he'd been directed to go to for Liz's party. It just so happened to be the same apartment that he'd left Monday morning unceremoniously. He probably should've known that from the address, but he didn't even think about it. He should've. Maybe then he would've been prepared.

"He's in there," Michael said, "And I look like garbage."

"You do not look like garbage," Isobel said, very obviously tired of his shit considering they'd parked ten minutes ago and he still wasn't moving.

"I do! He's gonna look like a fucking gothic wet dream and I look like a trash can who hasn't washed his hair in a week!"

"Because you haven't washed your hair in a week."

"Oh my god, just cut it off, maybe he won't notice."

"Michael, will you calm down?" Isobel scoffed, "Look, come here."

He reluctantly looked to her, prepared for her to have scissors to cut off the mass of grease he'd let compile itself since that night because he was too wrapped up in finals go care. Except she didn't have scissors. She instead had baby powder.

"Just stay still, you gross bitch," she told him, sitting up on her knees and pouring the powder into his hair. She spent a good five minutes making it look like she hadn't just poured baby powder into his hair, just also making sure it didn't look like a grease trap. "Now, just wash your hair when you get home."

"Do you think he'll notice if I sneak in and wash my hair in the bathroom?"

"If you do that, I will disown you."

"Okay."

Eventually, they managed to head into the apartment. Michael was struggling to pretend that he wasn't terrified. He remembered being a lot more chill when he met this guy–Alex, his name was Alex–at Fantasia. Granted, he'd been a little high and a little eager, but still.

This felt like a ticking time bomb. He didn't know when he was going to run into him, he just knew it was going to happen, and that was terrifying. He wanted to see him again. He did. He just didn't want to ruin that night in his head.

That's why, when he finally made eye contact with those black-lined eyes, Michael ducked into the bathroom.

He looked around in a panic, trying to calm down as best he could so he wouldn't embarrass himself. How did he talk to him normally when all he could see was how he looked completely strung out on the kitchen floor? How did he make small talk when he knew they couldn't even make it to the bedroom? How did he flirt when he hadn't washed his hair all week?

He would blame that last thought when he ended up with his head in the sink as Alex knocked on the door.

"Hey," Alex called, "Uh, you've been in there for awhile. You alright?"

Michael tried to think fast. His head was half covered in suds from the shampoo he'd taken from Alex's shower and he was trying really hard not to get any water on Alexs makeup and half his shirt was already wet and he didn't know where a towel was.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I'm fine!" Michael called back and cursed to himself. This was a bad idea. How was he supposed to explain his wet hair? What the fuck? Why did he do this?

"Are you sure?"

"I'm, uh..."

"You're not doing drugs, are you?"

"No!"

"Because I'd really rather not find drugs in the bathroom later," Alex went on.

Which is what prompted Michael to say, "Come in!" You know, like a dumbass.

"Uh, okay?" Alex said before the door opened. Michael stood up straight, hair soaking wet (but soap free) and face red. This was just the week of embarrassment. "Um. I'm not sure what to say."

Alex's face was slowly turning red as he fought laughter which Michael appreciated. Still, with a red face, he looked fucking gorgeous. He was dressed in all black and his makeup was done all pristine and and his hair was long and pulled back into a low bun with strands hanging down around his face. Michael didn't remember his hair looking like that. It looked good. And he looked like a wet dog.

"Do you have a towel?" Michael asked lamely. Alex slipped a small laugh, but reeled it in as he nodded.

"Uh, yeah," he said, reaching below the sink to grab one. Which Michael probably should've guessed. "You know, if you needed to take a shower, you could've asked."

Michael closed his eyes momentarily, but thankfully the towel was as to save him from painful eye contact.

"I could come up with a lie, but literally I'm already an embarrassment, so," Michael sighed, drying his hair as best he could. The towel hung in front of his eyes for no reason other than preventing him from wanting to shove his head into the wall. "I didn't realize you were the one throwing the party and I kinda didn't look my best and I didn't want to see you when I looked fucking busted, so..."

"So you washed your hair in my sink?"

"Yeah," Michael sighed, "I'm sorry."

"You're fine," Alex said. They were silent for a moment until Michael dried his hair as good as it was going to get. He was prepared for the mass of frizz it would become in the next few hours. "So..."

"So."

They both let out soft laughs and shook their heads. How did people have conversations again?

"Listen, Sunday night was... I don't usually do that," Alex started. Michael got real serious re fast. "I've slept with a guy, like, once before and it was a high school boyfriend and it went really bad and I never spoke to him again. So... That was really out of character for me and I apologize if I embarrassed myself enough to make you feel the need to sneak away."

Michael's eyes widened. "No! No, the only one of us who should be embarrassed is me. I had a final that morning and I didn't wanna wake you, so I just... I left a note."

"Without your number or name."

"I'm stupid," Michael sighed. Alex gave a sweet smile that was enough to recharge him. "I don't usually do that either," Michael said, but quickly decided to back track, "Well, I've had one night stands and stuff, but I usually don't run out like that. I promise I'm more respectful than that. And also I would like that to not be a one night stand. Hence the attempt to not look like a sewer rat when I realized I would see you again."

Alex snorted, "You look great."

"Me? No, you look like a fucking model and that willl forever be my excuse when asked why I lost all my cool," Michael insisted, "I swear, I never lose my cool."

"I know, you were pretty suave that night," Alex noted. Michael licked his lips and smiled.

"Listen, I know we met in kind of an unconventional way, but you are literally the hottest guy I've ever met. I never let anyone give me a hickey, but I gladly let you fucking wreck me and I would gladly do it again," Michael said. Alex gulped visibly, suddenly looking innocent all over again. Why was that so hot?

"I had no idea what I was doing, I'm sorry I left a hickey."

"I ready think you knew what you were doing," Michael laughed. Alex flushed a deeper shade of red and shrugged half-heartedly.

"I was going off your cues."

"Yeah, well, I wanna do that again. But, like, properly," Michael insisted, "Can I give you my number? For real this time?"

Alex smiled a bit wider and nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that."

They eventually made it out of the bathroom and Michael pretty immediately went to Isobel to let her know he probably would be staying a little later than everyone else. He wanted to get to know Alex a bit better. You know, beyond his kitchen floor. Maybe his bedroom would be a good setting.

Isobel sighed and ignored his wet hair which was honestly the biggest blessing of the night.

"Leave it to you to get laid looking like that."

#Malex #malex fic #Alex Manes #Michael Guerin #Roswell new Mexico #my fic

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docholligay · 4 years

Note

You need to keep us up to date on what eps of Bly Manor you've watched so I can scream at you without fear of spoilers. Because I need to scream at someone other than my husband about the shit that's happening in this show.

I finished! Me and Jetty watched the last few episodes on Saturday. I want to rewatch it before I make any “real” calls on themes or what I think it’s really trying to say or anything like that, but if anyone’s interested, here are my basic spoilery things below the cut

Loves:

I thought the gothic horror tone with the series on the whole was excellent. I have no doubt there are and will be complaints about it not being “scary” but I think it hit what I think of as horror really well, and that feel of the early horror novels, that creeping feeling of something being horribly wrong.

I quite liked the “happy” ending. I think it was really bittersweet and well set up, and I had only minor quibbles with the execution. BUt all in all, I think the way that Dani wins by deciding to lose is quite compelling for me, and I’m a big fan of victories that are had in this way. I find them to be really reflective of life. It addresses a frustration I had with Hill House, where I found the end to be very very neat and tacked on based on what the entire fucking miniseries was saying about Hill House and about the things that drag us down. I found this even more egregious after seeing Doctor Sleep, a story he changed to NOT end with the resolution of childhood trauma despite the entire story being written to signal it was GOING to. ANYWAY THAT’S A WHOLE OTHER RANT. But yes, I found the winning and losing of Bly Manor to be very satisfying.

Episode 5 is a fucking masterwork. I was never fully convinced of time itself being frightening by the Bent Neck LAdy, but Hannah’s episode did it for me, the way she skipped through time, knowing she was doing it, knowing that on some level, it’s ALL HER. Absolute perfection, and I had even realized Hannah was dead before the episode, but if a story is good, the twist is unnecessary.

Jamie!!!! Jamie. I am gay, and there is Jamie. FINALLY, a lesbian for the rest of us.

The scene with the Lady of the Lake walking behind Dani as she talks to the children was incredible. Actually, the casting for the kids was incredible, in general. I thought they did a marvelous job.

Plus and minus:

The whole thing with Edmund was really fascinating and well done in bits but, I felt, resolved rather quickly. I think the reveal maybe should have come sooner so we could see more working through it.

Cons:

Episode 8 was entirely unnecessary. I know you are married to Katie Seigel, Mike Flanagan, but that does not mean you are contractually obligated to give her at least an hour of “shitty person who gets to be rebellious in a way that fits social mores so she can be likeable” in every The Haunting series. Viola’s story could be told over the course of the series in bits and parts, and went on far, far too long. This is especially egregious given the shortened season. If this season had been 12-13 episodes and had been able to breathe a little more, i wouldn’t have had such an issue with it, but given what we have to work with I found myself ENDLESSLY irritated.

We sort of dropped the whole thing with Peter at a certain point. I mean, he was still there, and we didn’t like him, and he was bad, but I don’t think the show ever satisfyingly did anything with him as villain or victim. The thing with him and Rebecca just sort of...kited away. I think this would be another thing that could have been easily solved with time and a dedicated writing team.

Which brings me to my overall complaint, I think. This season felt disjointed because it was written and directed by too many people. Flanagan fully wrote 4 episodes of Hill House and consulted on all of them. HE directed every single one of them. Bly Manor had ONE episode that he wrote and ONE he directed (both were the pilot). That’s it. So it feels like it lacks a single thesis statement, because it does. There are GREAT ideas in Bly, but because we have too many hands in the pot, it lacks focus. And that’s the most frustrating part.

That’s what I can think of first watch off the top of my head without a direct question!!

#madegeeky

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switcher666 · 3 years

Text

First post: ⚠️ 1st warning ⚠️ triggering content “committing not alive” “sharp things” “addiction to things” “harmful” “Sad”

— — — — —

⚠️ 2nd warning! ⚠️

This is going to be emotional to certain people and this is my story. I’ve dealt with a lot so im going to say a lot. Remember on “UnFiltered Depression” there is no filter and your are allowed to speak your truth and admit your wrongs.

Names:

Going through school i was considered the “weird kid”, “Gothic Fag”, “That one asshole”, “The Barcode kid”, “Actual scar face”, “pin cushion”, “Scary dude”, “Austin scissor wrist”, and many.many.many more.

School:

In High school it was not easy for me. I had to keep my head down and never talk because, when i talked i got in fights I win at most of my fights but, not when I’m in my vehicle driving away and a student drives in front of me and 4 people from the car drags me out of my own car. I was gay for a year of my high school life because i was trying to find who i am and right about when i had a boyfriend for a week they break up with me because of rumors which are true. And the rumor was self harm and restoring who i was with pain, suffering, punching things, smoking cigarettes in the parking lot, telling the teachers to quote from quite “Fuck of and burn in hell where you belong.” 😬 not my proudest moment in life but, hey at least i didn’t have to go to weight class haha. I have much more and way more about my high school life but i want to keep this short and i might drop more of my stories if you are interested. And this story is based off my life in high school i graduated in 2021 and this is just a soft story compared to what i have.

Friends:

I had very little friends in my life and high school put together. And when i had my 2 best friends they were just like me all fucked up and broken like me. But I had a friend named shawn im not dropping initials or his last name but, when he was still alive he always told me to “Stay safe,live, and stop the cutting shit.” He was suffering from self harm too just like me but i was worse. I told him EVERY single day of my life “how are you feeling?” “Are you okay?” “Do you want me to help you?”. He vaped just like i did and he always wanted a aegis hero mini kit for salt “nic” and 2 weeks before we

Were about to turn into seniors i got him one from STL (St.Louis mo) and i was excited to give it to him! Then things took a change. He started to show up more limp than usual. Slouched over, eye lids dropping,straight faced, and always wore a gigantic black hoodie even when it was 90 (F) degrees outside (32 C). I know what happened. He “quit” he told me straight faced and not looking me in the eye. I cant tell the rest because im getting emotional just writing this.

He committed suicide,gashes on his wrists/arms,neck,face, and Shoulders. I never got to give it to him the vape is still in my possession and i use it still but im quitting now i only use it every 6 hrs but i stare at it and currently keeping it as a way to remember him by. I miss him everyday.I promised him 2 days before he committed suicide that i would never fight unless i have to

(I have controlled anger issues and adhd etc. and i was in boxing so i can hold my own and i would never cut or use self harm again.) i kept my promises and never broke them. Well i whooped some ass here and there but that’s because people try to gang up on me and i had a crack headish person in stl try to get in my personal space and tried to hit me with a broken plunger with spit and maaaybe shit on it 😬 trust me i 1000% had to. I often look up at the sky and pretend he’s waving at me from the clouds and i wave back like a mad man. Rest in peace my brother continue to party and drink whiskey with the angels and watch over us all.

⚠️ 3rd trigger warning ⚠️

My harm.:

Im getting this out of the way now. Yes I DID self harm but I currently am not because, the one i love with all my physical soul and passion is with me so there’s no more reasons to feel pain anymore. And i swore an oath to my partner. Also my friends who are no longer with us currently that’d i’d NEVER cut or use self harm as a “Comfort” ever again. Im going to list the things I did so you can understand how emotionally damaged i was. And you can use this as a way of looking at yourself and feeling better that your not doing these things. And I’m doing this so we can ALL open up and admit our wrongs and find a way to fix this. Not as a community but as a family. You are not alone anymore, I welcome you to your new family where you wont be judged or insulted.

⚠️ Please do NOT read these if you have a weak stomach or triggered easily ⚠️

-Cut

(face,neck,chest/stomach,shoulders, and hands,wrists)

-starved

(even when i was only 140lbs in high school)

-Punching

(punchingmyself in the face till my teeth were almost crooked and bleeding and my face looked satisfactory to me)

-Headbutting

(bricks,wood,trees, marble counter tops,cabinets. Anything that was around me.)

-Suicide

( once with a gun with no ammo and a rope that i found in my garage and has been worn to hell so it snapped)

-driving

(I left my hand off the wheel and closed my eyes for 10 seconds after i got done counting to 10 i opened my eyes and placed my hands on the wheel and repeated “I guess it wasent my time to go.”)

-Burning

( i held lighters to my skin after 15 seconds of being on them i put the flame out and place it on the most sensitive parts of my body and watched me scream and squirm with anxiety and thrill)

-Free running

(Free running is a hobby i used to do and still do whenever i get time, but back then i would “accidentally” fall off of large platforms and fail “trying” to do a back flip or a hand spring off of something)

END:

Thats it for now. Sorry for making it shortish/long posts. I still have many many many more stories unfortunately. So stick around and get help with what you or a love one needs. Remember! WE are a family and you are apart of it now. You are not alone anymore.

We love you being here and hope we get to see you another day.

MORE INFO:

Go to my snapchat:

I do face to face therapy talks on Snapchat

Monday4:00pm-9:30pm

Wednesday 5:00pm-7:30pm

Saturday 4:00pm-9:30pm

ALSO! My native tongue is only english but i do know a decent amount of Japanese. And im not promising you i know it Fluently but i know enough to help you. 😁

#UnfilteredDepression #sad #depression #acceptance #worth #family #hotline #stories #harm #safe #not safe #alone #not alone

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maddie-the-princess · 4 years

Text

If You Love Me, Let Me Go Part 6

Fandom: Sanders Sides

AU: High School

Pairing(s): LAMP

Summary: Virgil and his family are new to the neighborhood. He starts a new school where he learns to love himself, and maybe, love his new friends.

Warnings: Cursing

Thank you to @kuroyurishion for helping me with this chapter. Please enjoy the story.

Chapter Six: Introducing the Gossip Gays

Virgil’s POV

And just like that, I received three new numbers on my phone. That brings the current number of contacts on my phone to five. Sighing to myself, I walked home after school in a comfortable silence. No one was home, as per usual, so I went upstairs to my room and began my homework. Slipping my headphones on, I played a playlist, appropriately named ‘Emo Playlist’ and worked.

Hours later, while I was grumbling over Math homework, the playlist stopped. There was a new text from Remy.

-Group Chat: The Dark Sides-

Mr. Sandman: I’m borreedd

Double Dee: You’re always bored.

Trash Goblin: Put Redbull in your coffee!

I laughed out loud at Remus’ comment. Thinking quickly, I texted a reply.

Me: What’s up Remy?

Mr. Sandman: Babe! So glad you can join us!

Double Dee: Hey there shortstack.

Trash Goblin: Heya shortie!

Mr. Sandman: Remember what I said earlier at lunch? About the new store opening up?

Mr. Sandman: It’s opening on Saturday. We can go then.

Double Dee: Wonderful idea. My parents already said yes.

Trash Goblin: My parents don’t give a shit, but I told them anyway!

Mr. Sandman: Sweet. Hbu babe?

I bit my lip. Would my parents even say yes? I texted back.

Me: Let me ask them.

Mr. Sandman: Let us know babe.

Trash Goblin: Even if they say no, we’ll break you out of your house!

Double Dee: That’s illegal, Re.

Trash Goblin: Boo, you’re no fun.

I smiled at their texts. I felt happier. I’ve never been invited out by anyone before, even if it was just to go to the mall. I placed my phone down and resumed by playlist, looking again at the math worksheet in front of me.

Hours later, I hear the front door opening just as I was finishing up my homework. I peaked out of my room and heard the grumbling of my parents. I go down to greet them.

“Virge, honey? We’re home!” my mom calls out. She smiles at me. My dad follows her, holding a pizza box.

“Hey sport.” he says, placing the pizza box on the table. “Our co-workers treated us to pizza today, so we brought home some for you. Hope you like onions on yours though.”

I didn’t like onions on my pizza, but I nod nonetheless. Taking a deep breath, I decided to ask them. It’s like a bandaid. You just have to rip it off.

“Hey mom, dad?” I asked hesitantly, hoping my voice wouldn't waver. They give me a hum in response. Hurry, before I lose my confidence. “Can I go to the mall with my friends on Saturday?!” I ask quickly. The two of them stopped in their tracks.

“You have friends?!” my mom exclaims. “And they’re inviting you out?” I flinch. I know she didn’t mean for that to sound harsh, but still. Even my dad was giving her a questioning glance.

“What your mother means,” my dad interjects, “is that we’re surprised you’re making friends this quickly. But sure, sport. We have work on Saturday, but it seems ok with us.” He turns around and grabs a slice of pizza from the box and presents it to me. “Now, wanna have a slice?”

After the pizza dinner, I went back upstairs to get ready for bed. I texted my friends before I slept.

Me: Raincheck on breaking me out of my house, Re. They said yes.

Trash Goblin: Aww man! My services are still available to you if you ever need it!

Double Dee: Remus, no.

Trash Goblin: Remus yes!

Mr. Sandman: Enough you two. Thanks for letting us know babe. My dad will pick us all up at about noon, so give me your address.

I sent my address to them.

Mr. Sandman: Thanks babe. See you tomorrow at school!

Double Dee: Good night shortstuff.

Trash Goblin: Do let the bedbugs bite tonight shortie!

Me: Thanks guys. Good night.

With that, I plugged my phone in and got comfortable underneath the comforter. Today was Wednesday, and I found myself waiting excitingly for Saturday to come.

***

The rest of the week went by quickly. I was getting accustomed to class, and to Patton, Logan, and Roman in them. Before I knew it, it was Saturday. I was pacing nervously in the living room. My mom left for work already, but my dad was still getting ready while giving me a talk.

“If you’re ever in trouble, don’t hesitate to call me or your mother. Or find mall security.”

“Ok dad.”

“Don’t wander from the group. Use the buddy system if you have to.”

“Got it dad.”

“I’ll let you borrow my card if you want to buy something.”

“Thanks dad.”

I continued to pace around, looking down at my outfit, making sure it was ok. I wore my signature black ripped jeans and my black Doc Martin boots, with Fall Out Boy T-shirt and a purple flannel wrapped around my waist. I wore my usual black eyeshadow but decided to paint my nails a dark purple this time. My black backpack contained my sketchbook, phone, wallet, and other necessities.

There was a honk outside the house. I raced towards the door, and found a large silver car with Remy in the front seat. The window rolled down, and he smiled cheekily at me. “Hey Mr. Sullivan!” Remy called out as I went towards his car. My dad smiled and waved me a goodbye as he also left the house for work. “I’ll have your son home at a reasonable time!” Remy said as I got into his car. Dee and Remus were already there with Remus sitting by the window. I greeted them happily. I was excited for this little excursion.

“Looking good shortie!” Remus cackled. I sent him a kind hearted glare and Dee sighed in exasperation.

“Let’s get this show on the road babes!” Remy cheered and we drove off. Along the way, Dee pointed out different places around town that we could visit at a later time, like a coffee shop, ice cream parlor, and other restaurants, and some small businesses run by families. Ten minutes later, we arrived at the mall. It was huge, maybe with about 2-3 floors! Remy grinned at my stunned expression. “Haven’t seen a mall this size, huh Vee?” he teased.

We entered, and Remy dragged us to the store that just opened. Turns out it was a piercing store, and there were people already lined up for it. Remy whistled.

“Damn, there’s already a bunch of people here.” he exclaims. A woman holding fliers spotted us and grinned, walking towards us earnestly. She had long neon pink hair and was heavily inked.

“Hey!” she greeted, handing each one of us a flier advertising the new store. “This is Tears for Pierce, a piercing store that also doubles as a tattoo parlor. This flier I gave you tells you guys a bit about what kinds of things we do here.”

I looked over it. There were a lot of selections, including belly button piercings or ear piercings, and some selections for tattoos. The prices are beside the selections. The girl continues, “If you want to have a tattoo or body piercing done, you have to be at least eighteen or older. But that excludes ear piercings.” She points to the top of the flier. “My name is Amelia Stone, and there’s my contact info if you have any further questions.” She walked away to hand out more fliers.

The four of us were in stunned silence. “None of us are eighteen yet.” Dee noted seriously, looking straight at Remus, who was pouting like a child. Remy whistled and pocketed the flier.

“We have a couple more years.” he said, and the four of us went on our merry way. Dee, Remy, and Remus showed me the best places to go and hang, pointing out their favorite stores and restaurants. Remy obviously liked Starbucks, but also liked tea stores. Dee prefered Aeropostale or Hollister. Remus’ favorite store was hands down Spencers. When they asked me, I answered Hot Topic with no hesitation.

“Of course the emo loves Hot Topic.” Remus said fondly. He slung his arm around my neck, draping it over my shoulders. “We’re gonna head over to some shops, but first, let’s have lunch.” And we had lunch at the Food Court, with Remus stealing put fries and having a mini food fight. Then, Remus hauled us over to the various stores scattered throughout the mall.

Around we went, in and out of stores, checking out what they had. Remy went and bought a couple new leather jackets and comfy sweaters, while Dee bought a new pair of pants and a couple new shirts. Remus dragged me to Hot Topic, and the two of us had a fun time picking out different band t-shirts and jewelry. I bought some chokers and more band T-shirts, because you can never have too many band T-shirts. Remus bounded over to Spencers, where we found him in the very back.

We continued like this, trying to find styles that we liked. After hours of walking around, trying to find what I liked, Remy and I walked into a store while Remus and Dee took a small break. Remy hummed as he looked through racks of pants, picking and choosing what looked good for either him or me. I wandered off and looked at flannel shirts.

Then, something caught my eye. It was a gothic black and purple plaid skirt, with black ribbons in the front. I picked it up, and internally cheered when I found out it was my size. I admired it for a bit. It looked pretty, and I really liked how it looked. It kinda… suited me?

“You want it?” I heard a voice ask. I whirled around in surprise. Remy was looking at what I have with an amused smirk. I blushed in embarrassment.

‘Oh god, what if he thinks I’m a freak.’ I thought miserably. And before the second week of school, here I believed a friendship had been ruined, ‘He’s gonna gossip about me to the entire school. He’s gonna bully me and everyone’s gonna think that I’m a weirdo and-’ My thoughts were stopped when I felt Remy gently place his hands on my shoulder.

“Vee,” he said soothingly, “breathe for me. I know what you’re thinking.” He took the skirt from my hands and observed it. “Frankly, I don’t give a shit if you wear a skirt. If you’re comfortable in it, then go on and wear it. But if you want my opinion, I think you’d rock this skirt.” he declared.

I perked up. “Seriously?!” I exclaimed. Remy nodded. I nearly cried happy tears.

“You lack confidence, Vee.” Remy said, turning away with the skirt in hand. I followed after him. “You're shy and anxious. As your friends, Dee, Ree, and I want you to be comfortable with yourself. He went to the counter and paid for it before I could protest. He stuffed the skirt in my bag. “Don’t worry about it babe.” Remy said when I asked why he paid for it. “Think of it as a welcome gift.”

When we walked out of the store, Dee and Remus looked proud.

*** Before we left the mall, we stopped at Starbucks. The barista took one look at Remy and immediately started making a cup of coffee. I looked at him amused. “Kinda famous in this place.” Remy muttered fondly. “What do the rest of you want?”

Minutes later, the four of us were sitting at a high table, chatting idly.

“So shortstuff,” Dee starts off, “I’ve seen you getting a little close to some boys in our class. Care to share with the class what’s been going on there?”

I choked on my drink. “What?” I coughed.

Dee rolls his eyes. “I know a lot of things shortstuff.” he says teasingly. “That day when you had a misunderstanding? I did some observing.”

Remy raised an eyebrow. “Spill the tea, Dee.” he demanded lightly. “Seems I’ve been missing something.”

I signaled for Dee to stop talking with a light glare. He didn’t. “It seems to me that shortstuff over here is pining over three boys.” he drawled. “Patton Hart, Logan Owens, and Roman King.”

Three things happened simultaneously. One, I put my head down and tried to hide from the world. Two, Remy outright laughed at me. Three, Remus actually spat out his drink all over the table. Dee grimaced and went to clean up the mess with Remus’ help.

“Holy shit.” Remus cackled. I shot my head up and glared at him. “I fucking knew it! Roro’s gonna be so jealous. I didn’t even tell him that you were coming with us today!”

I stared at him. “You’re brothers.” I stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Remus nodded. “I’m the older twin, by like a minute, and obviously the hotter one.”

“Yeah, sure.” I teased. Remus gasped, offended.

“I totally am!” he declared. “Double Dee, you think I’m the hotter twin right?” Dee didn’t even grace him an answer, so Remus pressed again, leaning against him with a pout on his face. “Double Dee?” he whined. He leaned further into Dee’s space, his face close to Dee’s. Remy and I were looking on with suppressed giggles. Looking closely, you could see a faint blush on Dee’s cheeks.

“Yes, Remus.” Dee answered with a sigh. “You’re the hotter twin.” At this, Remus cheered happily and turned to me with a victorious look on his face. Remy snickered under his breath, and muttered “whipped”. Dee turned to him with a teasing grin.

“And what about you, Remy? Keep in touch with a certain cartoon loving person?

Remy spluttered. Damn, nobody is safe from Dee today. I tilted my head in confusion.

Dee explained. “Remy hung out with an upperclassman last year, and became really close. He’s in his first year of college right now studying to be a therapist.”

I gaped at my friend. “An older guy, huh? In college no less.” I teased. I couldn’t help it. The three of us laughed as Remy groaned into his hands.

“You’re all terrible people. I hate you all.” Remy grumbled. That sent the three of us into another fit of laughter.

Remy’s dad brought me home near 10:00 in the evening. “We’ll see you at school Monday Vee!” Remy called out. “And you better wear some of the new things we got you!” With that, the car drove off after making sure I was safe inside my house.

Putting all of the new clothes away in my dressers, the skirt remained folded and placed gently deep inside my closet, I did my nighttime routine. I lay in bed, thinking about today. I had fun with Dee, Remus, and Remy. They’re really nice, really accepting, and just generally an awesome group of people. I really liked them. Smiling to myself, I turned underneath the covers, glad that I found a group of friends that like me, and I like them in return.

Anyone wanna be in my taglist? Let me know!

Taglist:

@sure-i-exist

@theoretically--speaking

@sups-stuff

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #polysanders #ts lamp

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gonewiddershins · 4 years

Text

i have time to kill and a brain that needs to be distracted from the looming void of the pointlessness of life so here is an ENTIRE ask meme (part 1)

What book are you currently reading?

A bunch of them, as always. I’ve been dragging myself chapter by chapter through little women for like a couple of months now (i really like the prose, i’m less than convinced by about half of the subject matter and I know Louisa May Alcott likely had the same opinion), There’s a bullet journal guide that I’m forever putting on hold because sigh there are reasons why I need a bullet journal. I’m re-reading The Scum VIllain’s Self Saving System, mostly because the donghua was excellent and gave me cravings. I’m about a third of the way through a halloween anthology and i wasn’t into the latest story so its been like that for a while. I’ve read a couple of chapters and pages each of The Queen of the Tearling and Evensong’s heir respectively and I haven’t gotten back to them but I also don’t want to drop them because they are fine so far. I;m halfway through mexican gothic and I like it but it’s a bit slow-moving so I’m getting twitchy. I’m also about halfway through this segregated magic system urban fantasy thing which would be really good if 90% of the dialogue wasn’t exposition and I have some critique notes for the author about that.

What book did you recently finish?

Another danmei webnovel. And another transmigration novel. This one was both. There was some interesting worldbuilidng and character stuff in the beginning and then it dropped most of the plotlines and devolved into sex scenes I now know how Shen Yuan felt when he was reading proud Immortal Demon Way because SO MANY dropped plot points guys so many.

What’s a book that’s been on your to-read list for a long time?

Rhythm of War? Hopefully I don’t approach this with excitement that fizzles out before I actually start on it like with Oathbringer. I don’t think that’s gonna be the case but I cannot predict the vagaries of my mood reading.

What’s the next book you’re hoping to read?

Eh. Probably RoW again. I do want to read Dawnshard before I read RoW but I’m not entirely sure if that’s going to be possible. RoW takes priority as of now.

Is there a book you own, but aren’t planning on reading?

*gestures vaguely at shelf full of classic novels I am probably never actually going to finish* People keep getting me these things because I “like reading more than anything else” and reading clearly means reading classics.

What was your favourite series as a kid? Would you still read it now?

Animorphs! And yes. I periodically re-read random books from the series for kicks. Not all of it holds up well but enough does to make it a fairly enjoyable experience.

What’s your favourite series now?

I don’t actually do favourites anymore because I’m indecisive and there are way too many metrics to calculate and sometimes I like different books for very different reasons.

Fantasy or sci-fi?

I like both, but I generally prefer fantasy. That said I’m more interested in the applications of weird magic/tech and social consequences than I am in anything else; which means I adore sci-fi like say- The Vorkosigan Saga and Imperial Radch while disliking more standardized/hero-focused fantasy like The Faithful and the Fallen (I STILL DON’T KNOW HOW PEOPLE LIKE IT). It’s a spectrum.

I think someone once mentioned on this very site that they liked fantasy which took a scientific approach to magic and sci-fi which took a magical approach to science and you know what I kinda feel that statement.

What’s a book you want to buy?

Fence: Disarmed. There are disaster gays everywhere.

Have you ever judged a book by its cover?

I've definitely decided to read a book purely because of the cover. Sometimes it works out and sometimes it doesn’t. Same with book titles.

Have you ever bought a book because of who the author was?

I have a small list of auto-buy authors I scream about all the time so Yes. Is Horror not generally my genre but is T. Kingfisher writing some weird horror shit? I’ll take it thank you very much.

If I do find an author I like I generally go through their entire backlist because while quality may vary between earlier and later books (*coughSANDERSONcough*) there are repetitive motifs/tropes I really enjoy which i think the author also enjoys.

Have you ever read a celebrity memoir? If so, whose was it?

Nah. I’ve probably tried to read a couple marketed as funny but I didn’t find them very funny so I gave up. I do have Know My Name by Chanel Miller on my to-do list but I don’t think that qualifies as a celebrity memoir. Oh, and I suppose I’ll get around to reading Trevor Noah’s memoir eventually. Or Bassem Youssef’s.

Are you a fan of autobiographies?

I think that probably depends on the autobiography in question. I remember reading the first part of Gandhi’s autobiography and thinking “wow you are hella judgemental, dude” before I got anywhere hear the Independence movement stuff. I remember starting Booker T Washington’s Up From Slavery with every expectation of giving up halfway through and then powering through it in like a day because it was that good. So. //shrugs

Fiction or non-fiction?

Fiction for long-form stuff and non-fiction for short form stuff. I struggle with short stories, but I can breeze through essays and articles. On the other hand, give me a non fiction book and I’ll brood over it for seven years like I’m trying to hatch a basilisk.

Favourite fiction genre?

I usually say fantasy but a more accurate term would be speculative fiction because I like “how does X change affect society” stories a LOT.

Favourite non-fiction genre?

History (caveat: no biographies, please- just more anthropology-like history) and science. And I do mean science, not technology.

Historical fiction: yea or nay?

generally yea but it really depends on the author and the subject matter. I’m not all that invested in monarchy-based historical fiction (monarchy based fantasy fiction i’ll take), for example. And I really like survivalist fiction so historical survival is a big win in my book.

Do you read the book or watch the movie first?

Ha. Watch a movie? What do you take me for a philistine? (I will however, quite possibly watch a animated series before reading the book it’s a thing.)

Paperback or hardcover?

Paperback. I’m hell on hardcovers. The state of my copy of Goblet of Fire would make anyone with an ounce of sympathy for books weep.

Do you read e-books?

Almost exclusively, at this point.

How many bookshelves do you have?

Physically, not that many. Just two? Everything is crammed in two layers deep though.

How do you organize your books?

Author (Firstname, Lastname) > Series > Series Position. Nonfiction is sorted either by Topic (I HAVE NOT ORGANIZED THIS SUBSECTON WELL ENOUGH IT PREYS ON ME CONSTANTLY), author names I recognize, or books in a series.

Do you prefer borrowing books from friends, borrowing books from a library, or buying them? How willing are you to lend your books to other people?

I guess buying them if I really like the books? I’m a compulsive re-reader. I don’t really like borrowing books from people because I get stressed about forgetting to give them back. I do like lending books to people though. If I have a backup copy in ebook format, anyway.

I don’t really have any libraries I can borrow non-Classics fiction from alas.

In what condition do you keep your books?

“it’s Okay I guess” to Poor. A couple are in “WHAT MANNER OF HIDEOUS BEAST RAVAGED YOU” territory. I need to cover books or I inevitably start wearing down on the corners it’s like i exude an aura of non-lethal but constantly-eroding destruction that affects everything I come into contact with I thank my electronics from the bottom of my heart for their service.

What’s the biggest book you’ve ever read, and how many pages did it have?

I’m reasonably sure it’s this webnovel called Rebirth of the Malicious Empress of Military Lineage because DEAR GOD IT TOOK ME WEEKS even when i was near-constantly reading I think it was even longer than Tian Guan Ci Fu/Heaven’s Official Blessing but idk how long bc webnovel and the pagecount (for the whole novel) is not listed on Goodreads.

#ask meme

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hermannsthumb · 5 years

Note

for the summer prompts if you want you could do family reunion. it could be a fun and interesting dynamic

YES i think id like to make this into a longer fic itd be so fun, so thats why it cuts off where it is and has the long setup hehehe

13: Family Reunion

from summer prompt memes here

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

"I should probably warn you,” Newt says over breakfast, after a few minutes of poking his fork into his room service pancakes (which have been steadily growing soggier) and twirling his orange juice straw between his index finger and thumb.

Hermann sets down his own fork with a small sigh of relief, and Newt has a feeling it’s not just because the unusual (for them) silence was leaving him on edge. “Oh, good,” he says. “I was about to say the same thing. You first.”

"It’s just,” Newt continues, “well, my family’s...they’re kind of a lot.” It’s important to him they go over this now, before Hermann’s inevitable Geiszler Culture Shock during the actual reunion this coming Tuesday. Give him plenty of time to prepare himself.

“I’d be strange if they weren’t,” Hermann says. “I’ve met your father, you know.”

“I know,” Newt says. “They’re just...loud. And nosy. They’re going to ask a million questions about you, and us, and our--” He gestures between them. “--Thing.”

“Our thing,” Hermann repeats.

“Yeah,” Newt says. “Our--” He mimes something obscene. “You get me?”

There is a brief moment of uncomfortable silence. Newt would have liked to say relationship, because he was under the impression that’s what they have, and he doesn’t think it’s too much of a leap--they share a bed, after all, and occasionally get up to shenanigans in it--but they’ve never labeled it officially and he’s worried about unintentionally making Hermann uncomfortable. “I understand,” Hermann says. “My family is the opposite.”

This is the reason they’re all the way over here in some quaint little German bed and breakfast, after all, instead of going through paperwork or cleaning up old specimen tanks in their Hong Kong lab like they probably should be: Geiszler and Gottlieb family reunions, both scheduled, coincidentally, a week and a decent (but manageable) drive apart from each other. They made a two week long vacation out of it, with the first week--this past week--spent doing dumb touristy things and eating non-rationed food. They have the time to do fun shit like this these days, after all; no more impending doom, no more weight of the world on their shoulders, no more overworking themselves until they collapse into an insensible heap on the lab couch only to be discovered by the graveyard shift janitor at three in the morning. Besides. If Newt and Hermann intend to keep getting up to shenanigans in shared bed, they’ve got to Meet the Families eventually. This way is just tackling it all at once.

“No shit,” Newt says sarcastically. “I’ve met your father too.”

While their recent outing with Newt’s dad had been nice and fun and causal--he bought them dinner--their only run-in with Hermann’s, accidentally, at a banquet during the war had been anything but. Newt recalled a lot of shouting (on his own end), louder shouting (on Hermann’s father’s end), and mortified silence (on Hermann’s end). And that was before Newt and Hermann even started getting up to shenanigans together. “You certainly have,” Hermann says. “Er. Please don’t be too offended, but I don’t imagine most of them will be very polite to you. They’ll have heard about the incident in Anchorage with Father by now. And most of them--well. Most of them don’t approve of me.”

Newt’s face splits into a grin. “They don’t approve of you?”

The tips of Hermann’s ears go red. “Of my career,” he says, “my, er, lifestyle, the career of the man I’ve chosen to share it with...” This, considering what little Newt knows about the extended Gottlieb family, makes sense: Hermann continuing to work on the jaeger program even after his father publicly turned his back on it must’ve been a real shock, and Newt was, after all, Hermann’s research partner throughout it all. Hermann being gay is just the metaphorical cherry atop that. What he says next throws Newt for a loop anyway. “I was also a bit rebellious in my youth. I don’t imagine they’ll have forgotten that.”

This time, Newt full-on snorts in disbelief. “Rebellious?” he echoes. “Holy shit, what’d you do? Get straight A’s instead of A-pluses?”

Hermann’s blush spreads down to his neck. “Er. Something along those lines,” he says. “At any rate. I suppose I’m what you may deem the black sheep of the family.”

“No fucking way,” Newt says delightedly. “Man. I can’t fucking wait for this.”

They check out of the bed and breakfast the next morning and start the two hour ride to Hermann’s childhood home, where they’ll be spending the next few days. They could’ve spent the entire time in Hermann’s old bedroom if they wanted and bypassed paying for a hotel entirely, but Hermann was deeply opposed to it--his siblings would not be arriving until today either, and the thought of being alone in a house with his parents clearly made him uncomfortable. Newt didn’t even bother suggesting it as an option.

“I can’t believe you grew up on a farm,” Newt says when they finally begin to pull down Hermann’s long gravel driveway. Because it is totally a farm--huge property and rolling fields and all--and Hermann has, conveniently, neglected to tell Newt this.

“It’s not a farm,” Hermann says. “Er. It’s--farmland. There’s a difference.”

They drive past a cow.

“It’s totally a farm, dude,” Newt says, waving hello at the cow. It doesn’t acknowledge him. “Did you have chickens, too? Pigs?”

“I had a cat,” Hermann concedes, and then Newt forgets all about pestering Hermann about the cow because the farmhouse finally comes into view behind the tall trees, and wow. It’s big--at least enough for each of the Gottlieb kids to have their own bedroom, Newt’s sure--with a wrap-around porch and a spacious yard. After craning his neck around, Newt spots more cows meandering through a fenced-off meadow nearby, and more excitingly, a large pond a brief walk away. There are ducks on it.

“A farm,” Newt repeats. “You grew up on a farm. Wow.” He thinks he can be forgiven for being a little incredulous about it all: the little Hermann’s shared about his childhood made it seem like he lived out his days chained up in some sort of drafty gothic castle before he eventually fled in the dead of night for uni. This beats the first six years of existence Newt spent in a shitty Berlin apartment by a mile.

Hermann parks their rented car in an empty bit of grass further away from the patch of gravel where another half-dozen-odd cars are and switches off the engine. Then he stares at the windshield for a very long time.

“I haven’t been here since I was a teenager,” he finally says. His knuckles are white around the steering wheel. “Even before that--it was mostly only summers. I went off to a boarding school when I was quite young.”

“Summers must’ve been...nice here,” Newt says cautiously. He’s worried he might strike a nerve without meaning to; it’s very easy to do that with Hermann, after all, especially when it comes to talking about his childhood. Newt used to do it all the time without meaning to. And sometimes, when he was pissed at Hermann, he used to mean to do it. He doesn’t feel very good about that these days.

“I would take my telescope out to the field,” Hermann says, “or up to my brother’s treehouse, on days when I could manage the ladder.”

His eyes dart down to the keyless ignition, and his index finger twitches, as if he’d like nothing more than to press it; Newt reaches over and places his hand on Hermann’s arm in a way he hopes is soothing. “Hermann,” he says. “We can leave now if you want. We don’t have to go in.”

Hermann worries at his lower lip for a moment, then his whole body seems to sag. His hands drop into his lap. “No,” he says. He works his jaw. “We’re going in.”

Newt nods.

They go inside. Newt can tell, instantly, which of the people milling about are related to Hermann by blood as opposed to marriage: they have Hermann’s fine cheekbones, his funny stick-out ears, his dark hair, and some--only a handful--have eyes almost the same warm brown as his, though without the little crinkles at the corners and Hermann’s delicate, fanning eyelashes. Unless Newt’s just biased in Hermann’s favor. A few of them nod tersely in Hermann’s direction; one older-looking woman outright avoids eye contact and speeds up a little down the hall.

Newt shuts the door behind them and gives the foyer a brief once-over. High ceiling. Neutral-colored wallpaper dotted with small roses. Neutral-colored carpet. A single vase of flowers on a pristine wooden side table. “It’s nice in here,” Newt lies.

“Hm,” Hermann says with obvious distaste. Then a strange look flits across his face. “Bastien,” he says over Newt’s shoulder, slightly louder. “Hello.”

Newt turns. Walking stiffly towards them down the hallway is a guy who looks unsettlingly like a taller, less pointy, and far more stylish Hermann. He stops a good foot away from them and nods just as stiffly. “Hermann,” he says, and Newt half expects them to exchange a firm, professional handshake. He knows Hermann’s not big on hugs, and he must’ve gotten that from somewhere, but come on. “I’m surprised you came. It’s good to see you.” His eyes sweep over Newt once. “Are you Dr. Geiszler?”

“You can just, uh, call me Newt,” Newt says. His mouth feels weirdly dry. He didn’t expect to get this fucking nervous.

“I’ve seen your photograph online,” Bastien says. His accent is thick, thicker than Newt ever remembers Hermann’s being on the rare occasions his learned pretentious English one slips and gives way to his natural one. It makes sense. He never left the country like Hermann did. “Hermann has mentioned you once or twice in emails.”

“He has?” Newt says, because that’s news to him, but Bastien’s already turned his attention back to Hermann.

“Father is in the backyard,” he says in a low voice. “If you were wondering.”

Hermann’s visible distaste returns. “Ah. Thank you. I’ll be sure to avoid it then.” He allows himself a tiny fraction of a smile. “It is nice to see you.”

"Bastien is only two years younger than me,” Hermann explains once he and his brother have nodded at each other once more and Bastien’s retreated back down the hallway. “I was always closest to him, out of my siblings.”

“I can tell,” Newt says, and, probably lucky for him, Hermann doesn’t pick up on the sarcasm.

Hermann takes him on a brief tour of the lower level of the house. It’s weird; for all the charm the outside has--from the vines creeping up the sides, the ancient shutters, the sagging porch, the beautiful hills--the inside is pretty, well, bland. There’s a pristine dining room. A pristine kitchen. A pristine living room, with couches more out of fashion than Hermann’s sweatervest and a fucking gorgeous piano that looks practically untouched. (Newt whistles when he sees it; “I took lessons once,” Hermann says, “I wasn’t very good.”)

The main point of Newt’s interest, though, the thing that really makes him stop dead in his tracks, is the single family photo resting atop the fireplace mantle. All six Gottliebs are lined up in a row: Hermann’s father, a woman Newt takes to be Hermann’s mother (she has his eyelashes and his wide mouth), a teenage, and much shorter, Bastien, two twenty-somethings that must be Hermann’s older brother and sister (all three with Hermann’s ears), and--

“Holy shit, Hermann,” Newt says, snatching up the picture frame for a closer look. “Is this you?”

It is, which Newt is sure of even before Hermann flushes beautifully and turns his eyes to the ceiling--there’s no mistaking that scowl or cane. The Hermann in the photograph is leaning against a wall, a good foot away from the rest of his siblings, and can’t be any older than eighteen. He’s got an undercut twice as severe as his current one. A cigarette dangling from between two fingers. And--Newt realizes with a jolt of something that might be called elation, or it might be called horror--an earring in one ear. “Ah,” Hermann says. “I did say I was--”

“This is the best day of my life,” Newt says. “I want a copy. I want three copies. I want to carry one around in my wallet. I can’t believe you had an earring!”

“He did it himself,” a woman lurking near the doorway with a drink in hand and Hermann’s cheekbones says. “With a sewing needle, wasn’t it?”

“A safety pin,” Hermann says miserably. “Hello, Karla.”

“Hermann,” Karla says. They exchange stiff nods. (This family is fucking weird, Newt thinks. Maybe Hermann really is an alien. It would explain a lot.) “Who’s your friend?”

Hermann touches Newt’s arm. “This is my...” He trails off, and Newt starts to wonder if he should jump in with a lab partner when Hermann finally coughs and says, “My Newton.”

Newt gives Karla a nervous little wave. The once-over she’s giving him behind her wire-frame glasses is twice as severe and scrutinizing as the one Bastien gave him earlier--far more Hermann-esque. Specifically, Hermann when Newt’s fucked something up and is doing a very bad job of hiding it. “Your Newton,” she says. “The biologist?” Newt and Hermann both nod. She looks satisfied. And a little disapproving. “You didn’t say he was coming. You may have to make up the guest room bed for--”

“There’s no need,” Hermann says, and a small blush blooms on his cheeks. “Newton and I will be sharing my bed.”

“Sharing?” Karla echoes. She narrows her eyes at Newt again. “Hm. You are his type.”

“Karla,” Hermann hisses. He looks mortified.

“Hermann was always bringing home boys like you,” she says to Newt. “Dyed hair, piercings, tattoos--”

“Karla.”

“All because he knew our mother and father hated it, of course,” she says. “That’s also why he--” She tugs on her earlobe, the same earlobe Hermann has pierced in the photo, and takes a sip of her drink. “He was always so difficult. And now, a,” she says the next word like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth, “biologist.”

Newt feels, vaguely, like he’s entered in a parallel universe, where Hermann Gottlieb is apparently some sort of bad boy rebel without a cause and not, in fact, Newt’s stuffy, uptight, stick-up-his ass lab partner who one time yelled at Newt for being too cheerful at work. “Difficult?” he says faintly.

“She’s exaggerating,” Hermann jumps in quickly. He tugs frantically on the sleeve of Newt’s leather jacket. “Newton, we should--”

“He used to stay out until three in the morning,” Karla interrupts, with something akin to glee on her face, “and come roaring in on the back of some boy’s motorcycle--”

“Holy shit,” Newt says.

“Newton,” Hermann says. “Upstairs, please.”

Newt places the photograph back on the mantle and scurries after Hermann as he clacks, furiously, from the room and past his sister (who merely nods at both of them again). Hermann doesn’t stop his furious clacking until they make it all the way up the creaky staircase, down the upstairs hallway, and through a door that he shoves open unceremoniously.

This is where Newt stops. He’s not sure what he expected Hermann’s childhood bedroom to look like, but he wasn’t expecting this. It’s undoubtedly Hermann’s though. The bedspread is dark blue, patterned with little white spaceships and orange comets, but looks recently washed, at least. There’s a model of the solar system hanging in the corner, clearly homemade. A heavy layer of dust on a desk in front of a window, where several advanced mathematics texts are stacked up. More spaceships on the faded wallpaper. A few perfectly straight and even posters, one of the phases of the moon from 2006 tacked to the back of the door. A messy bookcase.

Newt was expecting--more neutral colors, maybe. An ancient-looking abacus. Victorian schoolhouse chalkboard slates. He smiles. “This is your old room?”

Hermann eases himself down onto the edge of the bed. “Yes,” he says, and pats the bedspread. “I imagine we’ll fit here together tonight without a problem.”

“Yeah,” Newt says, and sits down next to him. He has a million things he wants to say: your family is fucking weird, what’s so bad about being a biologist, you weren’t lying about being a black sheep, huh, but what comes out, along with a wide grin, is “So. I’m your type?”

“Oh, don’t start,” Hermann says. “Karla was only teasing. She always teases.”

“You used to ride around on motorcycles,” Newt says, “with boys. Plural.”

Hermann darts his tongue out, nervously, over his bottom lip. “With one boy in particular,” he concedes. “Ah. A friend from school.” His blush returns. “He had a tattoo of a sparrow on his shoulder. He was my first kiss.”

Inspired, Newt leans in and kisses Hermann’s cheek. “Dude. That’s adorable.”

Hermann hides his face in his hands. “He had freckles,” he says.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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