#tw: violence mention

[in-love-with-writing-whump]

Prompt

Whumpee, who has night terrors, has never had anyone to comfort them. When they meet Caretaker, a gruff and stoic person, they don't want them to think they're a burden, so they try to stay awake using caffeine and distractions.

After they get injured in some sort of altercation, they fall asleep out of physical exhaustion on Caretaker's couch. They wake up screaming, startling Caretaker.

Caretaker's soft side begins to shine through as Whumpee apologizes, much to Caretaker's confusion.

#tw: night terrors #tw: injury #tw: exhaustion #tw: drugs #tw: sleep deprivation #tw: fear #tw: abandonment issues #tw: trauma #tw: violence mention #stoic caretaker #stoic whumpee #parental caretaker #whumpee #whump prompt #caretaker

[astarionsbeloved]

Okay you don't understand.

This scene hit me SO HARD. I wasn't expecting it, I didn't know it was a thing, I Wasn't Prepared.

The ANGER, the DISGUST on Halsin and Astarion's faces. The sheer RAGE I can see building in Halsin. He wants to destroy Kressa, and honestly, I'd let him. The emotions Halsin and Astarion were going through while I had this conversation were visceral enough they kept distracting me.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #baldurs gate #liliana does a durge run #halsin #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 mods #modded bg3 #drow durge #bg3 drow #astarion's beloved blogs about bg3 #liliana speaks #tw: mention of abuse #tw: violence mention

[hannahssimblr]

“Jude,” minutes before the bell rings for the end of lunch, Evan calls me over to him as I pass him, lurking by his locker as he so often is. 

“Yeah?”

“You know Alison Littler, right?”

I saunter over to him, intrigued, and lean against the locker next to his, “Yeah? Why?”

“Do you know where she is?”

“No. Is there a reason I should know?”

“Are you not, like, fucking each other or something?”

I laugh awkwardly, because he doesn’t have to say it like that, and so loudly that at least three passers by heard him. “I dunno, I haven’t seen her since this morning, but we have maths together in an hour. Why?”

“She was supposed to meet me here, that's all, I’ve been waiting for the whole break for her.”

I find this amusing, “How do you know Alison Littler, Evan?”

“Oh, well, you know… everyone knows her.”

“Yeah but I didn’t realise you were on hanging out terms with her. Since when?”

“We’re not,” he says, “and if we were, so what? Would you be jealous?”

“No, I’m just a bit curious about what’s happening here.”

“Is Alison’s business your business?”

I grin, “No, but I’m nosy.”

He gives in reluctantly, “I have something for her. I said I’d give it to her, and she hasn’t turned up. That’s all.”

I shrug, “Okay well, I don’t know what happened, sorry. Can I pass on a message?”

He chews on his lip, “I’d text her again but maybe her phone is dead. If you see her later will you tell her you saw me? Let her know I’ll be here after school until about a quarter past four.”

“Yeah, sure,” I pull back to lightly punch his arm but it makes him flinch and then I feel like I should apologise for frightening him. He’s a bit skittish, and these typical, aggressive boy things I’ve become accustomed to doing likely won't to go over well. “Uh, sorry about-” I say, and my words are clipped short by the abrupt wail of the bell through the narrow hallway. I turn to head toward German class, “Um, so Alison, yeah, I’ll tell her. Quarter past four.”

“Thanks,” He says, and slings his bag over his shoulder as he walks the other way. 

Later, Alison is missing from maths, and now I am distracted by her absence. My eyes keep drifting toward her empty desk, where she is usually perched right in front me, hair draped over the back of her chair and wafting vanilla scented shampoo my way. From where she sits she is right within range for my flirtatious torment, for me to kick the legs of her chair while she tries to draw straight lines with her ruler or poke her with a pen when she’s trying to ask a question, but not today. She’s gone, and I have this strange, niggling feeling that something isn’t quite right. 

I smuggle my phone out of my pocket and text her under the desk. 

You go home sick today? 

“Jude, phone please,” The teacher says, because she’s the type that watches me all class long for even a hint of wrongdoing. She barely lets me away with anything, so usually I have to act out when her back is turned or when she’s gone to the toilet or something. She stands in front of me now and snaps her fingers at me like I’m some kind of unruly feral dog, so I hand my phone over without protest and let her store it in her drawer until we’ve completed our calculus lesson. 

I spend the rest of the class wondering if Alison has texted back. 

“Hey,” before the last class of the day I block Tara Neary’s access to her locker with my body and note the look of utter delight on her face. It is because I am giving her attention, and I’m not blind to the effect I seem to have on these girls. It’s because I’m tall, I think, but so often they shrink back timidly like Tara and gaze up at me through lashes, trembling nervously at their own imaginings of the things they want me to do to them. Her expression quickly turns to crushing disappointment the moment I start quizzing her about Alison. 

“She’s in some of your classes, right?”

“Um, yeah but I don’t know her that well or anything.”

“Really? I thought you hung out.”

“Sometimes,” Tara says reluctantly as she nudges me out of the way to swap the books in her bag with those in her locker, “But I don’t know where she is. She was in chemistry this morning, and she wasn’t in Irish this afternoon,” A shrug, “sorry, I don’t know anything else. She probably had her period and went home or something.” Tara glances at me with some measure of optimism, as though this revelation that Alison does in fact, get a period may have frightened and disgusted me enough to put me off her, but she can try that one with lesser boys. I’ve been so inundated by girls and women my whole life, platonically, familially and romantically that periods of all things do not shock me. There are far scarier things about women. 

“Okay, thanks, well, if you see her tell her I was asking for her.”

“I will.”

She won’t.

Evan is standing forlornly by his locker at the end of the day, and as I pass him I give him the nod. “No sign?” 

“No, I suppose she went home sick.”

“Yeah, I’d say so. See you tomorrow, Evan.”

“Yeah, see you.”

Out by the gates in the hazy light that girl I used to know is there again. She sees me and waves, and this time I cannot pretend that I haven’t seen her back, so I wave too, and there is nowhere to go but past her, so I approach her. 

“What are you doing here?” I say, and I had hoped that my words would come out sounding a bit less accusatory but it’s difficult. 

Leah smiles and wraps her arms around herself to shield from the cold. She’s wearing a coat, but it isn’t thick enough to protect her from this cold snap. “I’m just waiting for someone.”

“A sibling?”

“No.”

I peer at her, wishing I didn’t feel so guarded and suspicious, but my body reacts to her long before I do. Always. “Do you ever think it’s weird that you’re nineteen and you’re still hanging around your old secondary school?”

She scoffs, and I shrug, “Just wondering, like.” 

She fixes her face so that it is soft despite my offensive remarks, nostalgic, affectionate, even, the one she always makes when she looks at me and it annoys me. “Just an acquaintance is all, I said I’d be here at the gates.”

“Right.”

“How’s your friend Jen?”

“She’s doing fine.”

“Oh, that’s good. She was such a nice girl.”

“Yeah, she is,” I almost turn to go before I spin back to her “She’s actually doing really well. She’s sorting everything out and she’s happy.” I’m not sure where this sudden burst of childish venom came from, or whether it’s really true that Jen is sorting things out or if she’s expressly happy, but I say it anyway in defence so that I can prove that she hasn’t turned out the way that many people expected her to.

“Did you hear Pete was put in a psych unit?”

I falter, “Pete Lee?” 

She nods, “He went crazy, apparently, and his dad had to wrestle a knife out of his hand.” 

I remember Pete Lee. He was a quiet, but nice guy. A little weird, sure, but relatively harmless. He liked dance music and always wore these really bright, neon coloured runners. I used to talk to him about games we both played on the playstation and he taught me how to huff deodorant fumes until I felt like I was floating through time and space above the little dingy park where we used to hang out. We were thirteen. Now we are seventeen and Pete Lee is in a psychiatric facility, which makes him the second boy from that small group of peers to have a psychotic break. 

I want to say that Pete didn’t deserve this, that if we’d all been more careful back then with the things we used and the things we developed a taste for then all this wouldn’t have had to happen. But we were barely teenagers, we didn’t really know what we were getting into, someone else should have known better, like Leah, maybe. She was there. She should have warned us that solvent abuse turns to substance abuse so easily that you don’t really see it happening, but I know that it is too much to expect from her, so I don’t say this.

Or anything else aside from, “Oh, that’s really sad.” 

She sighs unhappily, “Yeah, that’s how it goes sometimes.”

“I suppose,” I reply, and begin walking away from her. 

“Will you tell Jen I was asking about her?” She calls after me, and I don’t turn around. 

“Yeah,” I say, though she probably already knows I'm lying.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2009 #the reveal #it's leah #but where is Alison? #this storyline is stressing me out #but necessary i guess #tw: mental health #tw: violence mention #tw: drugs #tw: solvent abuse

[cometomecosette]

"Les Misérables" musical character interpretations: Éponine

Next in my series of characterization comparisons: every audience's darling, Éponine.

These five interpretations of the character are the main five I've seen in various performances. But they can also be combined with each other to create still other portrayals. For example, in the bootleg video of the US tour performance from 2000, Sutton Foster's Éponine is "the Wolf Child," but her natural charm and humor adds an underlying layer of "the Gamine Next Door." Whereas Joanna Ampil's Éponine in the same year's London video – from what I've seen of it – is also a "Wolf Child," but with the underlying fragility of "the Waif." And when I recently saw the current US tour, I thought Christine Heessun Hwang's Éponine was a cross between "the Gamine Next Door" and "the No-Nonsense Street Kid."

The Gamine Next Door

            This is a simple, straightforward portrayal of the musical’s Éponine, who projects an air of easy likability. First and foremost, she’s a spunky, sassy, cheerful street urchin, much like an older female Gavroche. She might occasionally hint at the true sadness of her life (i.e. “Look what’s become of me”), but she always quickly hides it behind a bright, cheeky smile. And as her name implies, her interactions with Marius have an air of a tomboyish “girl next door,” with free and easy playfulness and warmth. She might sometimes add a hint of flirting, but she never crosses the line into bad manners. This isn’t to say that she can’t be gritty when necessary: her “Attack on Rue Plumet” can be very fierce and angry, although she’s more likely than some Éponines to mix relatable fear with her defiance. Nor does her lighthearted veneer mean she’s immune to suffering. When she’s alone, she gives heartbreaking voice to her starry-eyed yearning for Marius and her abject anguish that he doesn’t return her love. Of all possible Éponines, this one is the most idealized compared to the novel’s Éponine, which obviously won’t suit everyone’s taste. But in general, audiences are guaranteed to like her, pity her, and relate to her. Teenage girls, in particular, who are in the throes of their own first unrequited loves, will embrace her as one of their own. 

The Waif

            This Éponine is the most vulnerable of them all. She’s likely to be small, delicate, and “kittenish” in appearance. She’s more soft-spoken than other Éponines too, although still with a powerful singing voice for “On My Own,” and with a gentler, more girlish demeanor. Of course, she does affect a tough, sassy veneer, boasts about her street smarts, and stands up to her father and Patron-Minette with all the necessary fierceness. But that veneer is more fragile than glass. She constantly seeks Marius’s attention with a look of wistful yearning – even if he fails to see it, we can – and when they interact, her teasing is obviously a cover for the shyness and awkwardness she feels, knowing how out of her league he is. Nor is anger and aggression her first response to danger. In “Attack on Rue Plumet,” expect her to try to reason with the men at first, and to only turn defiant when they won’t listen. Above all else, the audience will remember the tenderness of her longing for Marius and her raw anguish that he’ll never be hers. Where other ‘Ponines express their pain without crying, this one’s rendition of  “On My Own” will more likely be drenched in tears. Throughout the show, the audience will want to hold her. shelter her, and comfort her, so in “A Little Fall of Rain,” however sad the circumstances, they’ll be glad that Marius finally does.

The Wolf Child

            This feisty tomboy is very much a street urchin, not a street waif, and very much the Thénardiers’ daughter. She’s a grubby yet self-assured, iron-willed survivor, just like her father, and she has more than a little of her mother’s brashness and temper. Among Patron-Minette or with Gavroche, she’s clearly “one of the guys,” and when the time comes to fight off her father and the gang at Rue Plumet, her anger and ferocity are positively feral. Expect Montparnasse to get a good kick or punch if he dares to bring his knife near her throat. Her teasing of Marius is bold, boisterous, and physical: expect to see her pushing and pulling him around in a very unladylike manner. This girl is determined to gain his attention, and apart from brief moments of despair, she clings stubbornly to the hope that he’ll fall in love with her someday. But in “On My Own,” she’s forced to admit that she’s been fooling herself. She faces this sad truth with heartache, as all Éponines do, but with anger too. Anger at Marius for his blindness and failure to appreciate her, at the world for being empty when he’s not with her, and at herself for being vulnerable in this way, when she’s usually strong enough for anything. Of course, her story ends in tenderness, with her final moments of bliss in Marius’s arms. But what the audience will remember most are her toughness and her fiery passion.

The Wild Urchin

            This girl comes as close to the novel’s Éponine as the musical allows. Physically she’ll probably be dirtier than other ‘Ponines, with bad posture and skittish movements that recall an abused dog or a stray cat. And more than any other musical ‘Ponine, she gives off an air of mental instability. Yet she combines it with a lively, free-spirited nature, and the result is a wild, whimsical, childlike quality that’s strangely endearing, even as it earns pity. She “frolics about,” swinging her legs as she sits, playing with her skirt, kicking stones in the road, or casually lying down and stretching out on the pavement. With Marius she’s even more forward and unladylike than the Wolf Child, freely invading his personal space, and sometimes trying to flirt in a way that recalls her father with the girls at his inn. This might make even Hugo’s Éponine blush, but it drives home the point that her social skills are lacking. She strives hungrily for Marius’s attention, but between her upbringing and her mental state, she doesn’t know how to begin to win his heart. She’s also more ashamed of how awkward and “odd” she is than she pretends to be, which we see when she’s alone, along with her wistful dreams and the pain of her hopeless love. She’s a “crazy homeless girl” whom in real life, we might try to avoid on the street, but we’re forced to understand her, empathize, and care for her anyway.

The No-Nonsense Street Kid

            This ‘Ponine is less fierce than the Wolf Child, but she has a similar toughness, and though she’s quieter than other ‘Ponines, it’s not a gentle quietness like the Waif’s, but a hard quietness. Her usual demeanor is sullen yet stolid, unhappy yet resigned to her lot and ready to “tough out” anything. She stands up to her father and the gang with hard, calm defiance and mocking disdain, and though she can be sassy and playful like all Éponines, her humor is drier and more subdued than most. Her only genuine smiles are reserved for Marius. Yet she might be a mild tsundere toward him, as they say, teasing him in an “annoying little sister” style, but closing herself up and pulling away if he offers her too much friendship. She doesn’t expect him to fall in love with her; she knows it’s foolish to hope. But she can’t help but hope anyway. She wants to be resigned to living without him, but though she tries, she can’t conquer her anguish, yearning, and secret fragility. Even when dying, she’ll still be tough, walking away from Marius to try to take care of herself, only to collapse; only when Marius takes the initiative and holds her will she finally show him her inner tenderness. This is different from Hugo’s Éponine, as is her grounded personality compared to the free-spirited Wild Urchin that Hugo wrote. But this portrait of a “hard nut” slowly cracking is moving in a different way.

More comparisons to come!

#les mis #les miserables #musical #eponine #characterization #comparison #tw: violence mention #tw: death

[the-andromeda-effect]

20

TW - abuse mention, violence mention, injury mention, mental trauma, ptsd

Caliban had taken many women to his bed the first night he’d met them, and that was the only night they’d spent together.  Some he’d dated for a while before becoming sexual.  None of those had ever brought about the conflict that he currently felt with Adira as she returned to the bathroom to finish changing.  It was not that there was not the physical desire for her, or that he knew that it would be far more than one night with her, but rather that the physical was so far less important at the moment than making sure that she felt safe and secure mentally and emotionally.  The other could wait, and he would wait, because he knew how wounded she was in all ways. He did not want to add to that in any way; certainly not if there was a chance of losing the way she looked at him by rushing or pushing for anything.  Whenever her eyes and his met, there was something that he could not describe within them, something that awoke a part of him that hadn’t been touched before, and he was finding he liked it.  

When Adira was once more behind a closed door, she leaned against it, holding the PJ pants to her as her heart thudded within her chest.  She had no idea what had made her so bold as to walk over to Caliban like that and just assume he would welcome her touch upon his bare skin and her help in disrobing.  It hadn’t been until she had actually been in the act of doing it that her brain had kicked in.  By then it had been too late and the only thing she felt she could do was continue, and now she was thankful that she had.  Just his initial response of covering her forearms and hands with his own had almost made her knees give way in relief and also a warm and safe sensation that had flooded her whole body.  She craved him in a way that she had never craved Mircea, in a way that she couldn’t even put into words. It wasn't blind lust, it was something deeper. 

From the day that she had met Mircea, she had known that they would be married.  It was why her father had introduced them.  Also from that day, she had alway tried to garner his approval, to please him, to make him proud, to elicit praise.  He had at least pretended in the beginning to be somewhat fond of her and that her efforts were more than enough.  The lack of overt affection understandable due to theirs being an arranged marriage, but it was one he seemed to desire, something that still confused her with how things eventually went.  However, the longer their relationship went, the more it was obvious that she was not who he wanted and that her efforts would never achieve the results that she hoped for.  She had still tried, no matter how many times she failed to live up to standards he seemed to change on a whim.  Up until the day she had been kidnapped, she had relentlessly tried.

Caliban was completely different from Mircea in every conceivable way.  One could say that their marriage was no less arranged than hers with Mircea had been.  It was not built on love, but an agreement to provide for her and keep her safe.  The difference was that even in the beginning of her relationship with Mircea she had not felt as safe and secure with him, nor had she felt as accepted.  Then there was something about the way that she felt when she was held in Caliban’s arms, the way just his voice calmed any fear or anxiety in her, the look in his eyes when he looked at her, his gentle and soothing touch when she was upset or hurting - it was all so new to her;  at the same time, it was like what she had always been looking for in the past, but never found.  

It was in wondering how he had not found a wife previously, with everything he had already shown her of who he was, that Adira came upon the thought that made her stomach turn: what if there were other women he was in a relationship with when he had saved her?  Could she do that again?  Could her heart take other women also being in a relationship from someone other than Mircea?  If there were, could she even do a fake marriage?  Her breath caught and her heart burned at the thought.

By the time that Adira finally opened the door again, Caliban had started to worry if things were okay with her.  The room had been too quiet, and she had seemed to be in there too long.  He had to keep reminding himself not to rush her.  Patience was never one of his virtues, but he knew that if he wanted to unwrap the delicate gift that was the true nature of the woman he now called his wife, he was going to have to learn some.  There was something about her that made him confident that whatever new skills he might have to learn or test he might feel like he was enduring, in the end, it would be worth it.

“Is everything alright?” He finally asked as she silently crossed over to the bed and began to place her jeans in the bag that he had brought up for her.  She hadn’t looked at him when she came out of the bathroom, nor even when he spoke to her, and this concerned him.  Before she’d gone back in, they’d once again been affectionate with one another and she’d seemed to be relaxing.  Had she had another panic attack of sorts?  

Still not looking at him, Adira’s voice came out soft and stuttered, “I hadn’t thought to ask before if…” She paused, gathering the courage to say what had come to her mind as she realized how much she was attracted to Caliban. It was as if the question was stuck in her throat, refusing to come out.  There was a fear of hearing the answer once it did.

“If what, sweetheart?” Calban asked cautiously, as head cantered.  He had heard the hesitation and nerves in her voice.   He pushed off of the dresser he’d been leaning against to walk over to her.  There was definitely something wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what could have changed in just a few minutes.  

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, her head still bowed as if looking down into her bag.  “If you had…someone you were with..you know, when you..we...”  As she let her breath out, she steeled herself for the answer.  Her hands had balled to fists around the clothing she was holding, as if that would somehow protect her from the answer hurting her.  She had known many men who would be with multiple women simultaneously.  It wasn’t like she was naive to the way the world of rich and powerful men who looked like him operated.  Even those who were married often had more than one girlfriend on the side besides their wife. This was often the life wives of family heads led.

So that was the issue that had suddenly come to bother her.  The tension Caliban had been feeling waiting to hear what had upset her faded instantly.   He was glad her back was to him because he could not keep the devilish smirk off of his face.  Not that he was laughing at her, far from it; no, he was delighted that the beauty was concerned that she might have competition for his affection.  To him that meant that she too was starting to feel something for him in the same way he was for her.  Otherwise she wouldn’t care if he was in a relationship with someone else while being fake married to her.  Being fake married to Adira seemed to get better every time he turned around, and now he was going to have at least two weeks secluded with her in a mountain cabin.  Who knew what could happen then?

“And it would bother you if I did?”  The shaky inhale of breath after his question gave him his answer, just before his arms wrapped around her from behind.  She couldn't hide the slight tremble in her body from him, a tremble that he hoped his next words would quell.   Placing his chin on her shoulder, he let his warm breath fan across her neck with his next words, “my darling wife, if there had been, the moment I slipped that ring on your finger they no longer existed.”  He gently kissed the crook of her neck and continued, “there is now, and from now on always will be, only you, unless it is you who wants things otherwise between us.”  Caliban was never one to share a woman, nor did he expect a woman to share him.

As much as his words comforted her, she also felt like they were too good to be real. “Are you sure that you can be happy that way?” Adira was afraid to even hope, even if she prayed, to a god she had long since stopped believing in, that it was true.  She was under no illusion that Mircea had ever been faithful in their marriage, even from the beginning.  He’d always blamed her; of course it was her failure as a wife that led him to have to find others.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”  He kept his chin on her shoulder and laced his fingers with hers now that she’d covered his hands with her own.  Every time he thought he’d figured out how much damage that Mircea had done, something more was revealed.  There was no doubt the coming days and weeks would reveal more, and he would try his best never to repeat those wounds.  If he could, he would instead heal them.  

“Well,I…I don’t know.  I just know that no matter what I tried, I was never enough for Mi-” Suddenly Caliban’s hand was over her mouth, cutting her off as she felt herself fully pulled back against him.  Her eyes closed, her breathing stilled, and she waited for the pain.  Pain always came after the wrong things were said.  Hopefully Caliban would not be as brutal as Mircea had been.  She still ached from being dragged by Kondrat and the abuse in that basement.

banners by: @cafekitsune

#writeblr cafe #writeblrcafe #tw: abuse mention #tw: ptsd #tw: mental trauma #tw: violence mention #tw: injury mention #writeblr #authorblr #writers of tumblr #authors of tumblr #fiction #modern fiction #contemporary fiction #mob fiction #crime family #strangers to lovers #strangers to friends #found family #fake marriage #drama #action #original story #original fiction #original writing #original character #crime fiction #the andromeda effect #my ocs #my writing

[princesssarisa]

Reasons why the original "Little Shop of Horrors" ending flopped

I've been thinking of the various possible reasons why test audiences reacted badly to the original ending of the film version of Little Shop of Horrors. Off-Broadway audiences hadn't objected to the end of the stage version, where Audrey and Seymour are eaten and Audrey II wins in the end. So why exactly did the movie's test audiences find that ending so upsetting, forcing a new, happier ending to be shot?

Frank Oz has always cited two big differences between theatre and film as the main cause:

*Film has close-ups. They make the audience engage more closely with the characters' emotions than they do in live theatre, so we care more about Seymour and Audrey.

*At the end of a live theatre performance, the actors come out for a curtain call. That's an immediate reminder that they didn't really die. Whereas in a movie, while rationally we all know it's just a performance, it feels like they're really dead.

Here are some further arguments I've read in various places:

*Orin and Mr. Mushnik's deaths are rewritten in the film to tone down Seymour's guilt. Without the stage song "Now (It's Just the Gas)", Orin dies more quickly, without giving him much time to beg Seymour for help, and we don't hear Seymour cold-bloodedly debating whether to save him or not in his mind. Later, Mushnik holds Seymour at gunpoint and tries to blackmail him into giving him the plant in exchange for his keeping quiet about Orin's murder, while onstage he just threatens to have him arrested. In response, Seymour only backs Mushnik toward the plant (possibly even by accident – it's vague) instead of tricking him into looking inside its jaws, and then tries to warn him about it at the last moment, too late. These changes make a big difference in whether the audience thinks Seymour deserves comeuppance or not.

(There are alternate film takes, though, where Orin's begging for help is more drawn out, and where Seymour clearly backs Mushnik toward the plant on purpose and doesn't try to warn him about it. I read somewhere that those changes were made after the negative test screenings to make the new happy ending work better, but I don't know if that's been confirmed or not.)

*Rick Moranis has too much inherent likability as an actor. With or without the above rewrites, he gives off too much of a sweet, innocent vibe to let the audience stop rooting for Seymour.

*Showing Audrey's fantasy of married life with Seymour during "Somewhere That's Green" makes the audience sympathize more with her dreams. When she only sings about them, it's easier to laugh at how she romanticizes stereotypical '50s suburbia. But seeing her fantasy onscreen, even though it's still played for laughs, makes us root all the more for her to achieve it.

*The stage version of "Don't Feed the Plants" is less bleak because it ends at the very beginning of the plants' conquest, without leaving the shop or showing any massacres. It's just a warning: don't feed the plants, or else they'll destroy the world. Showing giant Audrey IIs already destroying the world leaves us feeling more hopeless.

*While the final "Don't Feed the Plants" sequence is visually spectacular, it drags on for too long.

*In 1986, people didn't expect a musical to end tragically. The rise in popularity of dark, tearjerking musicals in the mid-to-late '80s and '90s hadn't taken off yet in the US, so the ending was more of an unpleasant shock. (Personally, I'm not sure if I agree with this theory. The stage ending wasn't criticized in 1982, and plenty of musicals already existed with dark themes and with sad or bittersweet endings: The King and I, West Side Story, Fiddler on the Roof, Sweeney Todd, etc. Although I'm sure it was a shock for some people to see a campy musical comedy end tragically.)

I'd like to add some more suggestions of my own:

*Onstage, depending on the production, Audrey's death can be played more for dark laughs, more as a spoof of melodramatic movie death scenes. On film, the medium's comparative realism forces the sadness to be played straighter. This is enhanced by Seymour's attempted suicide afterwards, which doesn't happen onstage.

*The addition of "Mean Green Mother From Outer Space" makes Seymour's death much more brutal. Onstage, he's eaten fairly quickly, and he goes down fighting. But on film, we have to watch Audrey II playing a slow game of cat-and-mouse with him while singing a gloating song and destroying the shop, then wrapping him in its vines and slowly lifting him into its jaws, with closeups of his terrified face all the while.

*Onstage, during "Don't Feed the Plants," Seymour, Audrey, Mr. Mushnik, and Orin all reappear as flowers sprouting from Audrey II and sing to the audience. Thus, even before the curtain call, they're not portrayed as really "dead." And the fact that it makes no sense in-universe – maybe Mushnik and Seymour could have survived being swallowed, but Orin and Audrey were already dead when the plant ate their bodies – reminds us that this is only a show.

Basically, I think a perfect storm of factors combined to make audiences dislike the original, tragic film ending, even though there was no such objection to the stage ending.

@ariel-seagull-wings

#little shop of horrors #ending #audience reactions #stage vs. screen #tw: violence mention #tw: death

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

ch. 3: A Safe Place to Land - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x nurse!reader

Summary: 5k words. After an unexpected breakup with her long-term boyfriend, y/n had one goal: to keep her head down and finish her travel nursing contract as soon as possible. That was until Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw derailed her plan entirely. Just as y/n finished picking up the pieces of her broken heart, Rooster came along and showed y/n what it’s like to be loved again–if only she’ll let him in.

Warnings: so much is going on, buckle up y’all. descriptions of injury, medical situations, references to a shitty ex, fluffy domestic tingz, references to ~s*xual activities~ (but no actual smut), alcohol mention, violence/assault mention, guys being dudes, & cursing

a/n: hi hi hi!! once again–thank you guys so much for the feedback & support! i love hearing what you have to say & i’m so glad you’re enjoying this series with me 🥰 i took total creative liberty w developing coyote’s character in this chapter ngl. this man did not get enough screen time so i may or may not have modeled his personality after his wonderful actor, greg tarzan davis (beloved). sorry not sorry. enjoy y’all!

series master list | master list

The front desk staff at the base emergency room became pretty familiar with a certain lieutenant over the next few weeks. Rooster made a habit of dropping by the ER after trainings a couple times a week when he knew y/n was on shift. On the third time he came in in less than two weeks, the triage receptionist rolled her eyes.

“Let me guess, Bradshaw for nurse y/n?”

“Yes ma’am,” the pilot grinned widely.

y/n was almost always busy and had her hands full with patients, but she always made time for Bradley.

“What is it this time, Rooster?” y/n asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“I got a paper cut while passing out training schedules to the new students,” he groaned. His puppy dog face was pathetic and y/n was so glad he was never in a position where he’d have to lie for this job. He was a terrible liar.

y/n rolled her eyes and playfully swatted his arm with her clipboard. The butterflies awoke again at the thought that Rooster went out of his way just to see her. She was careful not to be too unprofessional at work, but she couldn’t help but walk the line with Rooster.

y/n was certain Bradley started stubbing his toes on purpose in the hanger so he’d have an excuse to come in. After the second time she refused to make sure his big toe was okay, she banned him from visiting for inconsequential injuries. That didn’t mean he stopped visiting altogether though.

On Rooster’s days off or the rare occasion he had a longer lunch break, he met y/n during her break. His favorite part about visiting her at the ER was the stolen kisses they shared behind the cover of vending machines.

The random visits weren’t one-sided. y/n suddenly took an interest in exploring the unrestricted zones on base and was ‘surprised’ when she bumped into her favorite aviator. There were downsides to venturing outside of the hospital while on base though. After the third time y/n got a glimpse of her ex from afar, she told Rooster she’d rather hang out at either of their houses rather than walk around base together. She didn’t tell him exactly why, but the aviator wasn’t blind. Bradley saw the way she tensed when a specific aircraft carrier team was in the vicinity and it bothered him that y/n’s ex still managed to get under her skin.

On the other hand, Rooster couldn’t complain too much. The trade-off meant that he and y/n spent far more time together off base, where they could both let loose. In the comfort of each other's homes, they didn’t have to stifle laughter or sneak kisses–which might’ve been Rooster’s favorite part of the arrangement. 

For the first time in a long time, Rooster looked forward to going home. He was so used to sitting in silence by himself, nursing a beer while a baseball game droned on in the background. Now, his nights were often filled with dumb jokes, dancing in the kitchen, and having y/n sleep over at his house.

Rooster even passed on going out with the squadron to The Hard Deck a few times with the promise of spending his nights with y/n.

“Rooster, if you’re going to ditch us for a girl, you could at least introduce her to us,” Fanboy complained after Rooster declined a second invitation to The Hard Deck in less than two weeks.

“Maybe I will,” Rooster smiled, clapping his friend on the back before leaving the base.

It was totally an accident. Coyote was talking to an aviator from a different squadron between the F/A 18Fs that were parked just off the taxiway. He didn’t realize the particular jet he was closest to had been flown very recently, so when he casually rested his arm on one of the rear engines he was unpleasantly surprised by the burning sensation searing his arm.

That’s how Coyote found himself in the emergency room with a spunky nurse tending to his wound. He winced as she assisted him in running his arm under cool water. After gently patting his wound dry, she cleaned her own hands again. The nurse reviewed Coyote’s chart and led him back to the exam table to bandage his arm.

“You fighter pilots are so clumsy,” y/n chastised as she pulled out burn ointment and bandage supplies. She mostly said it for her own amusement, but Coyote gladly took it as bait and ran with it.

“Oh yeah? Who else do you know that can burn themselves on a jet engine?” Coyote teased, puffing out his chest. y/n snorted and focused her attention back on the aviator’s wound.

“I’m afraid that’s confidential patient information, Lieutenant Machado.” Between the painkillers Coyote took on his way to the hospital and y/n’s gentle touch, the ointment spread over his wound didn’t hurt nearly as much as he thought it would.

“Lieutenant Machado?” Coyote tsked at y/n’s use of his official title. “Miss me with that formal shit, homegirl. Call me Coyote,” he grinned, waving his eyebrows with a mischievous glint in his eyes. This time around, y/n was able to piece together by herself that Coyote was her patient’s call sign. With a raised eyebrow she met the pilot’s eyes once she finished securing his bandage.

“Homegirl, huh?” The interaction was rather amusing to y/n, especially since Coyote wasn’t trying to make a move on her like all her other patients did. All of their lewd comments fell on deaf ears, especially after y/n met Bradley.

“Yes ma’am,” Coyote said with a friendly smile. y/n rolled her eyes playfully but returned the smile with one of her own before reciting aftercare instructions. When she left Coyote at the discharge desk, she had a moment to breathe in between patients. She checked her phone and saw a text from Bradley.

5:01 p.m.   How does dinner and a movie at my place tonight sound? I’ll cook :) - Rooster 🐓

5:33 p.m.   That sounds great! I’ll make sure the fire department is on stand-by - y/n

5:34 p.m.   Haha, very funny. - Rooster 🐓

y/n smiled to herself and pocketed her phone as she made her way towards her next patient’s room. The prospect of spending the evening with Rooster after a 12-hour shift was enough to power her through the final 2 hours.

After a brief stop home to shower and change out of her scrubs, y/n showed up at Rooster’s door with a six-pack of their favorite beer. When Bradley opened the door, y/n was greeted with a sheepish smile and a burning smell wafting out from the kitchen. y/n gave him a pointed look before she handed over the beer and stood on her tiptoes to give him a peck on the lips.

While Rooster placed the beers in the fridge, y/n glanced around the kitchen. She noted the smoky aroma and recently dismantled fire alarm, but most of all, the charred remnants of something in a casserole dish sitting on the stove caught her attention. Rooster quietly watched y/n take in the surroundings and scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“‘Good with my hands’, my ass,” y/n teased, giving the aviator the side-eye. Bradley’s nerves were suddenly gone and a mischievous grin spread across his face as he moved to stand right in front of y/n.

“Baby, you know first hand that I’m very good with my hands,” Rooster’s grin spread wider across his face while he looked down at y/n, towering over her. y/n concealed a heavy swallow–Rooster’s comment reminded her of some fun memories they made the other night.

“Hush, Bradley,” y/n said and swatted his chest. The pink tinge on y/n’s cheeks was enough of a victory for Bradley.

The pair flitted around the kitchen and worked on resolving their dinner, or lack thereof, issue. Rooster opened the window and turned on the ceiling fan before working on repairing the fire alarm. The tall bastard hardly needed a step stool to reach it. y/n took it upon herself to call in a Chinese take-out order.

“Get me some shrimp lo mein, please. And some spring rolls. And some General Tso’s chicken,” Rooster requested, focused intently on the tiny screws holding up the fire alarm.

“Are we feeding the Navy or just you, Brad?” y/n teased. Rooster rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at y/n. 

An old ‘80s album played in the background and a candle that y/n was 90% sure was left by the last tenant burned as the pair debated which movie they should watch. Their discussion about whether or not Shrek 2 was an appropriate date night film was tabled when the doorbell rang. Rooster beat y/n to the door and handed the deliveryman cash before y/n could pull out her wallet. Chivalrous asshole.

They settled on watching Ferris Bueller's Day Off after eating. Halfway into the movie, y/n fell asleep with her head on Rooster’s shoulder. He didn’t mind at all, of course; after y/n worked two 12-hour days in a row, Rooster was surprised she agreed to come over in the first place. By the end of the movie, y/n was completely cuddled against Bradley’s side, with her legs tucked against his and her arm draped over his abdomen.

Rooster smiled softly and gently traced invisible patterns on y/n’s exposed skin. Though they’d kissed and held hands countless times, physical intimacy was hard for y/n. She was still guarded in some ways after her breakup–hesitance to cuddle was unfortunately one of those ways. The pair had only cuddled a few times in their six weeks of seeing each other, all of which occurred after hooking up.

Bradley sat on the couch with y/n against him long after the movie ended, simply content to have her by his side. With y/n in his arms, his house felt like a home. Being in the Navy meant that Rooster always had something to die for. Now? He had something to live for. That realization scared the shit out of him.

Rooster cursed the hands on the analog clock as the time ticked closer to midnight. The gentle rise and fall of y/n’s chest brought him a peace he hadn’t felt in years. Freezing time to stay on the couch with y/n by his side sounded like a pretty good idea to Bradley at that moment.

But, the lieutenant had an early morning training session ahead of him. From past experience after nights out partying, Rooster knew that if he wasn’t asleep sooner rather than later, his 6:00 a.m. alarm would be especially brutal. With a resigned sigh, Rooster moved to wake y/n up. Softly rubbing her shoulder didn’t seem to be doing the trick, so he resorted to planting gentle kisses on her forehead instead. Once y/n’s eyes fluttered open and she let out a groan in protest, Rooster knew she was awake enough.

“Honey, I gotta get you home. We both have work in the morning,” Rooster whispered with a bittersweet smile as he watched y/n stretch her arms and rub the sleep from her eyes.

“Roos…” y/n whined and flopped her head back against the couch. Despite having washboard abs and rock-hard muscles, Bradley made a damn good pillow. Hearing y/n near moan her new nickname for him did things to Rooster. His willpower was weakening by the minute. 

y/n stood from the couch with a huff and gathered her things. She slung her purse over one shoulder and held one of Rooster’s hoodies that she claimed after a midnight tryst in Rooster’s bronco. She was halfway to the front door before she noticed Rooster was behind her.

“Why are you following me, hot shot? You have training tomorrow morning,” y/n yawned around her words and gently punched his bicep for emphasis. Rooster took her fist and kissed the back of it, before entwining their fingers together.

“I’m driving you home,” he said, as if it was obvious. y/n’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She drove herself to Rooster’s house, she didn’t see any reason that she wouldn’t be able to drive herself home. Bradley playfully rolled his eyes as he watched the metaphorical cogs spinning behind y/n’s tired eyes. She was stubborn as hell, but that was one of the things he liked about her.

“You can hardly keep your eyes open and are yawning every 10 seconds. I’m not letting you drive like that,” the pilot said firmly, though his tone was tender. y/n would’ve typically taken that as a challenge, but before she could argue back Rooster cut her off.

“Or, you could just spend the night here,” he suggested, waving his eyebrows with a grin. 

“Ha, nice try, Bradshaw,” y/n snorted but accepted the ride. He was right about her being on the verge of falling asleep standing up, but she wasn’t going to admit defeat that easily.

Rooster followed y/n out to the driveway and opened the passenger door for her. “What a gentleman,” she cooed and accepted his steadying hand as she climbed up into the vehicle. y/n nearly fell asleep again in the short ride to her house. Bradley pulled y/n from her sleepy haze by gently rubbing his thumb along her inner thigh–his hand had been resting there during the entire drive and his resolve was growing impossibly thin.

“What time do you want me to pick you up in the morning?” Rooster asked and cleared his throat. Sleep was starting to pull at his tired eyelids too. y/n shot him a quizzical look and muttered a soft “huh?” in between yawns.

“For work tomorrow morning. I’m leaving you stranded without a car, so the least I can do is give you a ride to the hospital,” Rooster spoke lowly and squeezed y/n’s hand. Maybe it was her tired brain fog or the way y/n got caught up in Bradley’s moonlight-illuminated features that caused her to pause and simply stare at the man before her. The ridiculously handsome, intelligent, funny, but most of all kind and considerate man before her.

y/n leaned forward wordlessly and delivered a tender kiss on Bradley’s lips. Unlike the passionate kisses they shared during their trips to the beach or in secrecy at work, this kiss was sweet and slow and perfect.

“I’ll see you at 6:40, lieutenant,” y/n whispered against Rooster’s lips once she pulled away. y/n left him with a final peck and a soft “goodnight, Roos,” before sliding out of the car. Bradley sat in the driveway for a few minutes until he was sure y/n made it inside okay before heading back towards his own house. Sleep came easy that night for both of them, especially with the promise of seeing each other again in the morning.

Sure enough, Rooster showed up at y/n’s front door at 6:40 a.m. the following morning with two hot coffees in hand.

The Hard Deck was just as lively as y/n remembered it being when she and Rooster entered with their hands intertwined. Oldies music pumped out from the vintage jukebox, making the bar feel like a walk-in time capsule. y/n might’ve actually believed she was right back in the ‘80s if it weren’t for the significant portion of female sailors and pilots in the bar.

Penny smiled from across the bar to Rooster and y/n. She was busy tending to the patrons–especially since Pete “Maverick” Mitchell had her attention–but always made a point to greet Rooster, and now y/n too. His visits to The Hard Deck had become less frequent over the past two months and Penny saw that he had a pretty good reason why.

y/n and Rooster waded through the crowded bar towards a pool table in the back corner. It was hidden behind the countless energetic bodies packed into the bar, but Rooster was sure he could find it if he were blindfolded with how many times he’s hung around it over the years. When people got too close to y/n for Rooster’s comfort, he let go of her hand and wrapped an arm around her waist instead, pulling her closer to his body. She could hold her own, he knew that, but he still felt protective.

Bradley was nervous about bringing y/n to meet his friends. He liked hanging out with them, but they weren’t always conscious of boundaries and were relentlessly nosy. To top it all off, he and y/n still hadn’t put any kind of label on their relationship yet. He was sure their lack of title would draw up its own line of questioning from the aviators.

“We can go if you want,” Rooster spoke against y/n’s ear to be heard over the rowdy crowd. He warned her on the drive over that his friends might be a little overbearing, but she laughed and brushed it off.

“Brad, I’ll be fine,” y/n reassured him for the second time that night. When the pool table and the pilots around it finally came into view, y/n smiled at the sight of a familiar lieutenant.

“Homegirl!” Coyote shouted, drawing the attention of those around him. y/n waved in greeting, amused by Coyote’s especially enthusiastic nature after he had a couple drinks.

“You two know each other?” Rooster asked, confused. y/n’s lips were sealed when she looked up at Rooster. The pair was pretty good at reading each other’s faces–sneaking around the hospital and base hallways made sure of that–so he had a feeling that y/n wasn’t at liberty to tell Rooster exactly how she knew Coyote. His feeling was proved right when Javy loudly told everyone how y/n treated his burn wound in the ER last week.

While Payback, Hangman, and Fanboy busted Coyote’s chops for the umpteenth time for burning himself on a jet engine, y/n gladly accepted the bar stool Phoenix offered to her. The nurse knew some of the group’s call signs from the stories Rooster shared, but she couldn’t attach names to faces yet. Phoenix, however, was a pretty easy guess considering she was the only other woman sitting with the group of Navy men. Brave girl.

When the boys were finished making fun of Coyote, Rooster introduced y/n to the group. He started with Phoenix and Bob, moved onto Fanboy, Payback, and Coyote, then reluctantly finished with Hangman.

“So, Rooter has a hen?” Hangman said with a cocky smile. The man oozed confidence, which was pretty typical of the Navy men y/n met while working at the base hospital. His smirk was mischievous, maybe even flirty, but y/n saw right through him and read him like a book. Rooster smirked to himself as he watched y/n politely smile. She was totally psychoanalyzing the bastard.

The night went smoothly, especially after y/n and Rooster both had a beer or two in them to loosen up. The laughs were loud and their smiles were wide as the aviators shared stories from their various deployments and missions–the details that weren’t classified, anyway. Eventually, the conversation devolved into a pissing contest about who could do the trickiest in-air maneuvers, who completed the most precarious missions, and who was the best aviator. y/n was biased, of course, so she sat back and watched with a smile as the pilots debated animatedly.

When there was a lull in the conversation, Bob spoke up, much to everyone’s surprise. Bob told y/n in between conversations earlier that his sister was a nurse and they briefly discussed their common ground before they were pulled in opposite directions.

“I bet y/n probably has more hand-to-hand combat experience than all of us combined,” Bob joked in response to the recent discussion about which pilot was a better fighter. y/n let out a chuckle before clinking her beer bottle against Bob’s with a knowing glint in her eye.

“What does he mean by that, homegirl?” Coyote was the first to speak up once the group of aviators focused their attention on y/n. They were a little lost, not quite sure what to make of Bob’s comment. y/n sighed and took a swig of beer, managing to keep a soft smile on her face through her next words. 

“I’ve been working in hospitals for about eight years now, so I’ve had my fair share of aggressive patients,” y/n answered simply with a shrug. She subconsciously pulled a piece of hair from behind her ear to cover a scar she’d received from a particularly violent patient. Bradley watched y/n intently through the whole exchange and his heart ached when he noticed the small faded scar. 

Rooster’s jaw clenched when he thought about anyone putting their hands on y/n, especially the patients she cared for. Despite the simmering rage brewing inside him, the aviator’s touch was gentle as he rubbed soothing circles on y/n’s hip where his hand had been resting. When Rooster looked at her again, seemingly lost in his thoughts, y/n squeezed his hand under the table and sent him a reassuring smile.

The group of aviators knew their jobs were dangerous–the understanding that each time they took off into the air might be their last served as motivation to push harder and take risks. The possibility of life-threatening injuries and death were simply an occupational hazard. The decorated pilots were so immersed in their own line of work that they often forgot about what work looked like for people on the ground, much less civilians. y/n sitting in front of them casually mentioning she’d been assaulted on more than one occasion while at work was almost humbling for them.

After a brief moment of silence, Fanboy realized the group of aviators hadn’t really shut up about themselves the entire night, so he asked y/n more about her work. The nurse absolutely lit up at the opportunity to talk about her job. Sure, she had some not-so-pleasant experiences while on the clock, but the good outweighed the bad by far. y/n went on animatedly about how she got into nursing, the different units she worked in over the years, and how she decided the ER was where she belonged. y/n didn’t have quite the travel stories that the naval aviators did, but she did have an impressive travel nursing resume–13 cities in the span of 4 years, to be exact.

y/n also treated them to some of her grossest case stories. The grimaces and groans from the macho pilots made her laugh and only spurred her on further. When she was certain her face might crack in two from smiling and laughing at their disgusted reactions, Hangman changed the subject. The blonde aviator hoped to spare himself from another horrifying open fracture or maggot-infested wound story. He did get a kick out of the baby-mama-drama stories though.

“I think y/n deserves a call sign,” Hangman grinned. He was slightly buzzed at this point, but fully cognizant of his words. y/n barely finished her half-assed protest about it not being necessary before Phoenix piped up with a name idea.

“How about ‘Patches’, since she’s always fixing you bozos up,” Phoenix said, shooting pointed looks to Rooster and Coyote in particular. The two of them grinned while the group mulled over the nickname. Nothing better came up, so Patches it was.

“Doesn’t Patches sound like a cat’s name?” y/n wrinkled her nose as she pondered the name. She wasn’t strongly opposed to it, per se, but it was definitely… unique.

“Maybe, but you’re stuck with it now, babe,” Rooster said, pressing a kiss to y/n’s forehead.

Conversation flowed easily within the squadron. It was more like a chaotic overlapping of two or more discussions at a time, but y/n appreciated it nonetheless. She had moved around quite a bit in the past several years, so it was tough to make friends, much less keep up with a large group. Rooster relished how y/n relaxed into his side and leaned her head against his shoulder. PDA was tough for her given her rocky romantic history and guardedness, so his heart swelled at the small gesture.

Unfortunately, the peace only lasted for so long. A few of the aviators clocked a burning stare being sent their way from across the bar.

“Why is Captain Richards staring at us?” Payback asked with all the discreteness a tipsy Navy man could muster. Most of the squadron didn’t know who the higher ranking officer was personally, but there were murmurs around the base of the decorated Captain and how he ran a tight ship—literally. After all, the only thing that spreads faster than STDs in the barracks was rumors.

A few of the aviators did know Ethan Richards from their abundant time spent on aircraft carriers, much to y/n’s chagrin. She glanced over her shoulder and visibly stiffened when her eyes locked with her ex’s. The bastard had the audacity to smirk at y/n. Something about Ethan’s nonchalance and cockiness lit a fire under y/n’s ass. She was tired of covering for him. She owed him nothing.

“-because he’s an ass.”

“-because he’s my ex.” Rooster and y/n answered at the same time. Bradley sounded agitated, but it didn’t spread to his face. For a terrible liar, he had a decent poker face. y/n on the other hand answered with a flat tone but smirked at Rooster’s remark.

Payback and Phoenix both choked on their beers and the rest of the group dropped their jaws in shock. Hangman was impressed, judging by the smirk that spread across his face. He took a break from toying with the toothpick between his lips to mutter “Damn, Patches.”

Rooster’s hardened face and y/n’s annoyed look wordlessly let the squadron know that it was in their best interest not to ask any questions. y/n thought she’d be bothered or upset when she saw Ethan for the first time in almost a month, but she felt oddly grounded. She suspected her confidence was sourced from the brooding aviator next to her. Rooster put on a tough guy act—hell, it was second nature to him now after all his time in the navy—but y/n was slowly learning how he ticked. Over time, she figured out that he was just an extremely guarded and protective teddy bear. Her teddy bear.

Rooster and y/n took a break from drinking at the table top and moved towards the squadron’s long abandoned game of pool. y/n told Bradley she didn’t know how to play when he handed her a cue stick; whether or not that was true was beside the point when Rooster moved behind her and started ‘teaching’ her. y/n couldn’t remember whose benefit her white lie was for once Bradley’s chest was pressed against her back and they leaned over the pool table, but she couldn’t have cared less. He helped her line up a perfect shot and sure enough, she hit a three-in-one.

Goosebumps erupted on y/n’s neck when Bradley whispered pointers and tips into her ear throughout the game, his breath hot on her neck. y/n shivered and looked up to see Rooster grinning. The bastard knew exactly the effect he had on y/n. Later on in the game, it became very apparent that y/n bluffed about her lack of pool skills. The game was fair, but y/n was mopping the floor with Rooster, especially after he showed her his tricks.

An excruciating hour of pining, not-so-innocent touching, and innuendos passed while Bradley sobered up to drive y/n home. His fellow aviators left the bar one by one during the pool game, each one making sure to say goodbye to y/n before they left. Hangman even managed to pull y/n into a side hug, not that she minded. The wink and devious grin Jake sent Rooster’s way earned him a subtle jab to the ribs from y/n. Oops.

After three games, Rooster and y/n had worn themselves out and were ready to leave. When y/n looked back towards the spot she’d seen Ethan before, he was nowhere to be found—just how she liked him. By the end of the night, y/n beat Bradley 2 to 1 in their unofficial pool tournament. Rooster tried to tease y/n by saying he let her win, but she wasn’t having it.

“Take that back, Bradshaw!” y/n lightly shoved Rooster’s arm, her jaw dropped in offense.

“Okay, okay, damn! You won fair and square, Patches.”

y/n paused to think as they walked towards Rooster’s bronco in the parking lot.

“Patches totally sounds like a cat name,” y/n decided with a pout. Rooster led them towards the parked car with y/n’s hand in his own.

“I think it’s perfect for you. Since you’re cuddly. But also sometimes a bit of an assho-“

“Rooster!” y/n exclaimed, on the verge of delivering another swat to his arm.

“I’m kidding, baby. I like the call sign, but I like you even more,” Bradley stopped them in the middle of the parking lot to wrap his arms around y/n’s waist and press a kiss to her lips. y/n hummed contentedly and gave up the argument.

“We can’t tell anyone about this conversation. It’ll fuck up my scary ER nurse reputation,” y/n stated, sticking out her pinky for Rooster to wrap his own around.

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

a/n: it's my AU and i'll do what i want to (to the tune of Lesley Gore's "It's My Party"

lmk what y'all think!! xx

#rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun: maverick #bradley bradshaw #nurse!reader #rooster x y/n #bradley bradshaw x y/n #a safe place to land #tw: alcohol mention #tw: description of injury #tw: medical situation #tw: violence mention #tw: assault mention

[deathmimedream]

::: Rest and Recovery:::

@alastors-radioshow

While Cici wreaked havoc above in the ministry, Terzo slept below in Hell.

Granted,he’d just been through quite the ordeal.

Being drugged, tortured, murdered, beheaded, and returning to life as a Demon tended to do that.

He drifted in and out of sleep and consciousness the first full day, vaguely remembering that at one point, Alastor was curled beside him, still fully clothed, monocule clasped in one hand.

Terzo hadn’t hardly registered why his beloved would be in such a state, his mind still hazy with exhaustion. He gave a raspy hum, tucked his head under the demon’s chin, and slid his arms about the stag.

Drifting right off again.

He didn’t wake again until at least a half day later, still healing, still tired, but more aware of things.

He pushed himself up slightly, body sore, arms shaking in pain as he lifted himself up, almost panicking over his new surroundings.

Not the gray fog of screaming and grabbing, clawed hands that was purgatory, but also not the purple and black of his own bedroom.

This room, was red and black.

The bed was double the size of his, a bit softer, warmer, and he was only wearing one of Alastor’s shirts.

The entire room bore the stag’s scent, making his panic subside.

This was Alastor’s room, so it meant that he was safe.

He rubbed at his eyes, and blinked, noticing the changes, one by one.

Firstly, His hands were also black, fading to grey then his own, tanned skin tone as the color moved up his arms, fingertips now a claw-tipped bright gold.

He stared at them, and the cross shaped wounds along each arm, mostly healed.

He gave a tiny, strained, choked gasp as he began to remember. But rather than reach to the scars at his throat, his hand sought out Alastor instead.

If this was Alastor’s room, surely he wouldn’t be far away from him, si?

#alastors-radioshow #::: Let Your Colors Bleed And Blend With Mine:: #tw: violence mention #tw: drug mention #tw: death mention

[graceful-starker]

Peter's Boyfriend ch. 4

Chapter Four - Moving Forward

Summary: The gang is back from Thanksgiving Break, and they have stories.

Warnings: Drug use, alcohol use, panic attacks, nose bleeds, mentions of past violence. (If I missed anything please let me know! I think I covered it all).

Word count/rating: 9.3k, rated M.

Notes: Massive shoutout to Kimsberly on ao3 who left a great comment on this fic and gave me so much inspiration to continue.

I have two prequel fics coming out in the next few days, one to delve into the messiness that is the Nat/Bruce/Clint situation, and one that goes into the Sam/Bucky/Steve situation.

~~~

Peter bounces excitedly on the balls of his feet, checking his phone yet again to make sure Wade said he would be here. He’s been back on campus literally only ten minutes-only just long enough to drop his stuff off in his dorm room before he booked it here.

The door opens, and Beck is sneering at him. “Oh. You.”

Peter doesn’t let it get to him; he’s just excited to see his boyfriend again. “Beck,” he greets softly. “How was your break?”

“Don’t talk to me,” Beck says rudely, and Peter’s eye twitches. “Wilson!” Beck stands aside and lets Peter in, and Peter just skirts past him shyly. He doesn’t get why this dude dispises him, but whatever. 

Wade thumps down the stairs loudly, and the smile on his face is so bright and beautiful that Peter almost swoons. “Peter!” He greets, before tackling Peter in a bear hug.

Peter giggles happily, wrapping his arms around Wade’s neck and letting himself be twirled. Wade always makes him feel so special; like he’s priceless. Like Wade is the one who can’t believe they’re together. “I missed you,” he giggles, smiling up at Wade once he’s put back down.

Wade connects their lips excitedly, and pulls Peter into his body. Beck makes a gagging noise behind them, so Wade pulls back and flips him off. “Go be lonely somewhere else, you’re pissing me off.”

Beck scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he thankful leaves towards the kitchen area.

Peter laughs and looks back to Wade, a giant smile fixed on his face. “Let’s go to your room,” he suggests, moving his hand down Wade’s arm to intertwine their fingers. 

Wade grins and nods, starting to lead the way. “I didn’t know if you had eaten yet, so I ordered some pizza for us to munch on.”

Peter giggles, following just half a step behind Wade. “I had breakfast but it was an early one, the drive here is annoying as hell,” he jokes. They go into the room, and Wade shuts and locks it behind them.

“It’s on my desk if you’re hungry. I already had a slice-sorry,” he says cheekily, ducking his head.

Peter only smiles, grabbing himself a slice and sitting on Wade’s desk chair. “How was your break?”

“It was okay,” Wade says, sitting on his bed and stretching his arms over his head. “I stayed here, looked after the house and all that. Most people go home during breaks, so it was kinda lonely.” He gives Peter puppy dog eyes.

Peter grins after swallowing a bite. “Poor baby. Why didn’t you go home?”

“Don’t like my parents all that much,” he says, shrugging. “What about you, how was your break?”

“It was good,” Peter says, putting his slice down and dusting his hands off. “I uh…I came out to May,” he ducks his head, feeling a blush start to slowly form. “I told her about us. She says she likes you already,” he looks up at Wade from under his lashes, biting his lip.

Wade is smiling, his eyes warm. “What lies did you tell her about me to make her like me?”

Peter laughs, looking up fully and smiling back. “Just that you make me happy and you…” he blushes, but he laughs breathily and continues. “You make me feel likle you…”

Wade stands up, slotting himself between Peter’s legs and smiling down at him. “Like I love you?” he whispers. 

Peter’s eyes widen, and his breath catches. “You love me?”

Wade nods, one hand sliding under Peter’s chin to gently convince him not to look away. “I love you, Peter Parker.”

Peter stares at him for a second, eyes wide and jaw slack with awe. Peter. Wade loves Peter. He actually loves Peter, actually wants this relationship. He makes Peter feel so unbelievably happy all the time, just by being himself-and he loves Peter. Peter surges up, making Wade stumble just a bit but niether of them care. Peter connects their lips in a fierce kiss, one hand tangling in the back of Wade’s short hair and the other cupping the back of his neck.

Wade makes a surprised noise, but his hands go to Peter’s hips and he gives as good as he gets back into the kiss. He pulls Peter with him back to the bed, letting himself fall back so he’s sitting on the edge and Peter is standing between his legs. “Peter,” he mumbles into the kiss, not pulling away enough to really get the name out. 

Peter hums softly, smiling into the kiss. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispers, letting his hands cup Wade’s neck gently. 

Wade pulls back, breath hitching and eyes dark. “Really? You’re sure that you’re ready? We don’t have to go all the way, you know I like what we-”

Peter laughs breathlessly, kissing Wade again softly. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life,” he says, only pulling back enough to actually see Wade’s eyes. 

Wade swallows thickly, surging up to connect their lips one more time before starting to kiss down Peter’s neck. Peter tilts his head to the side, climbing into Wade’s lap and humming softly. Wade puts his hands on Peters hips, helping him balance, and then pulls away to smile at Peter. “You’ll let me know if you want me to stop, right?”

Peter nods, even though he’s almost entirely sure he isn’t going to want Wade to stop. “Promise,” he whispers, before connecting their lips together again.

Wade picks Pete rup by the back of his thighs and turns them around, resting Peter gently on the bed on his back, the pillows under his head. Peter blushes and smiles up at him, running his hands along Wade’s body. Wade starts to get undressed, and Peter half watches him and half attempts to get himself naked. 

He’s done this part before. They’ve fooled around some; blowjobs and handjobs and even a very fun night where Wade fucked his thighs. But he’s never done this part with anyone at all. He wants to do it with Wade so bad, though.

Wade smiles and crawls over Peter, running his hands over Peter’s body before ducking down and connecting their lips. “Beautiful,” Wade whispers.

Peter blushes and runs his own hands along Wade’s body. “Wade,” he whispers, gasping when Wade’s hand wraps around him. 

“You’re absolutely sure?” Wade asks again, kissing Peter’s nose.

Peter grins, moving his hands up Wade’s sides and nodding. “Yes. I want this-I want you so bad.” He spreads his legs apart, moving them so his knees bracket Wade’s hips. “Say it again,” he says, brushing his lips against Wade’s again.

“I love you,” Wade says easily, slotting their hips together and kissing Peter passionately.  

~

Peter feels like he’s on cloud nine. His first time with Wade was about as close to perfect as he coud have hoped for, it was every bit as romantic and good as he imagined it would be. 

He walks into his bio lecture and doesn’t even care about anything else; he doesn’t care that Tony is going to ignore him and sit on the other side of the room. He doesn’t even care what Tony said about him, or thinks about him. He doesn’t care that all his friends think it’s Peter’s fault Tony is being an asshole. Nothing matters except for the way his legs are still kinda wobbly and he’s just the perfect amount of sore to make him feel warm and floaty. 

Peter is so lost in thought about how much he doesn’t care about Tony anymore that he almost doesn’t notice Tony coming to sit next to him until he’s taking the desk. 

Peter straightens up, holding his pencil just a bit tighter. He looks at Tony from the corner of his eye, his leg starting to bounce anxiously. 

“Did you have a good break, Pete?” Tony asks suddenly, and it’s said so casually. So normally. As if Tony never said anything wrong, as if he doesn’t even remember ever fighting with Peter. 

Peter turns to look at him, blinking slowly. “What?”

Tony shifts, rubbing his thumb over his pencil nervously. “I asked how your break was. You went to see your aunt, right?”

Peter stares at him, long enough that Tony starts to squirm. He rubs a finger under his nose, before scratching at his beard. “You’re just going to pretend you didn’t say all of that to me?” he finally asks. 

Tony squirms, clears his throat, and adjusts his notes on the desk. “I’m sorry I…” he turns to look at Peter, chewing on his lip. “I don’t think that way about you, Peter. I think you’re…” he looks away again, over his shoulder. “I miss you, Peter,” he whispers. 

Peter frowns, looking back to his own desk and sighing. “You made me feel like shit, Tony. Like nothing. You-”

“Alright, everyone, quiet down. I’m sure you have lots to catch up on with each other from the break, but you can save it for after my lecture. Now, before the break, we left off on…”

Peter sighs softly and picks up his pencil, getting ready to take notes. He notices Tony shifting restlessly next to him, and towards the end of class he gets up and leaves. He doesn’t take his notes, so Peter assumes he’s just going to the bathroom or something. He comes back just before the end of class, seemingly more settled. 

“Alright, that’s about time. Don’t forget your assignment is due before next class period, not 11:59 like it usually is. Have a good day guys!” the professor ends, starting to pack up her stuff. 

Peter starts to pack his own stuff up, but as he’s standing Tony stands in front of his desk. “Peter?” he asks, looking down at his feet. 

“What, Tony?” he asks, sighing heavily. He just wants to go and meet Wade in the student union, so they can grab some food and hang out.

“I really am sorry. I was a dick, a massive one, and you didn’t deserve any of it. You didn’t deserve the way I ignored you, you didn’t deserve any of the things I said to you, and you didn’t deserve the way I treated you right before break. I’m sorry, Peter. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to keep-” he curses softly and brings a hand to his nose.

Peter’s eyebrows furrow in concern. “Shit, is your nose bleeding? Do you need a tissue?”

Tony sighs, tilting his head back and shaking his head. “I don’t want to keep being an asshole, and I don’t want to keep-keep…I want to be your friend again, Peter. I miss you, and I’m sorry I was so awful to you.”

Peter pulls a tissue out of his back pack and hands it to Tony, who sighs and takes it reluctantly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you apologize before,” he mumbles.

Tony laughs, folding the tissue and keeping it to his nose. He’s gotten blood all over his face and hand, and he looks so pitiful that it makes Peter’s heart hurt. “I don’t usually care enough about what people think to do it,” he answers honestly. 

Peter gives him a sad smile. “You’ll have to work really hard to make it up to me, Tones,” he says, but uses his old nickname to show he’s mostly forgiven. 

Tony smiles, eyes lighting up with hope. “I will, if you let me. I’ll be the best friend ever, I swear. I’ll-I’ll do whatever it takes to make you trust me again.”

Peter blushes a bit, but cocks his head to the side. “Come on, we need to get you cleaned up. You got blood all over yourself. And what did you do to your eye? You're a whole mess.”

Tony laughs, a bit awkward, and starts to walk towards the bathroom. “I wasn’t paying attention and walked into a doorway. But if anyone asks, say it was something cool. Say I won a fight or something.”

Peter giggles, turning on the sinks and grabbing some paper towels. “Sure, you got into a fight with some rando back home. You should see the other guy.”

Tony grins, wiping his face down and sniffing, inspecting his nose. “Yeah, the other guy.” He turns and smiles at Peter, throwing the towel away. “Fuck that guy.”

“Got what was comin’ to ‘him,” Peter agrees, adjusting the strap on his back pack. “You hungry? I’m meeting up with Wade for lunch, if you wanna come.”

“Nah, I’m not hungry,” Tony says, looking away. “I should probably get some homework done, I barely did anything over the break.”

Peter rolls his eyes fondly. “No one did anything over the break, it was break.”

Tony huffs and looks back up at Peter. “I don’t wanna intrude, it sounds like a date.”

“Nah,” Peter says, bumping shoulders with Tony and starting to lead the way. “It’s just meeting up, he’s taking me to dinner tomorrow night after his practice. I bet a couple of his brothers will be there, at least Matt. Come on!”

Tony hums, following at Peter’s side. “Alright then, if you’re absolutely sure he won’t get pissed that I’m there.”

“He’s chill,” Peter says, smiling at just the thought of Wade. “You would know that if you had talked to him by now.”

Tony winces, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Pete,” he mumbles. 

Peter knocks their shoulders again, giving Tony a smile. “Come on, he’s already waiting.” They start walking, Tony talking about their bio assignment due before next class. They’re halfway there when Peter stops walking. Tony almost keeps going, has to turn around and give Peter a confused look. “Can I tell you something? It’s-it’s about Wade. But I want to tell someone, and you’re my best friend, and-”

Tony smiles at him, nodding encouragingly. “You can tell me anything, Pete.”

Peter smiles, takes a deep breath. “Wade told me that he loves me, yesterday,” he says, and he can’t even stop the fluttery giggles that escape from him. Even just thinking about Wade saying it makes him feel so warm and fuzzy. 

“That’s-” Tony’s eyes widen, and he forces a smile. Peter knows it’s forced, but if Tony really wants to be his friend again, he’s going to have to be willing to listen to this stuff. “That’s great, Pete. That’s exciting!”

“Yeah,” Peter says dreamily, starting to walk again and letting Tony fall into step beside him. “I can’t believe it. Someone loves me, Tony. My boyfriend loves me.”

“I can believe it,” Tony mumbles, and Peter chooses not to look at him. “You’re the best person I know. I’m surprised more people aren’t tripping over themselves to try for a chance with you.”

Peter blushes a bit, ducking his head. “I don’t know about all that, Tones.”

“Nah,” Tony says, and his voice is lighter now, more humorous. “Prettiest boy on campus, and you just so happen to also be the nicest and you’re super smart. And now you’re dating a football player, so you’re taken–line around the block, kid.”

Peter blushes and giggles, shooting Tony a giant smile. “Shut up,” he says, pushing Tony just enough to make him stumble a step. 

“No, seriously. There’s nothing about you to not love.” Tony shoulder checks him gently, and his eyes are half sad. 

“We slept together,” Peter blurts out, having to look away from Tony’s expression. 

“You-you lost you-” Tony’s eyes are wide. 

“Yeah,” Peter says, smiling at the memory of the way he felt. “It was like I always wanted it to be. He was-he was great.”

Tony is grinning again, and he shoves Peter playfully. “Look at you! They grow up so fast.”

Peter blushes and laughs, shoving him back. “Shut up,” he says, turning them to the sidewalk leading to where they’re meeting Wade. 

Tony snickers and opens the door, letting Peter walk through first. “Hey, now nobody can make fun of you anymore. You aren’t even the most innocent person in the group now!”

Peter blinks and looks to Tony, leading them to the area Wade said he would meet him at. “Who are you thinking of?”

“Wanda and Vis,” Tony says, furrowing his brows. “Obviously.”

Peter smirks and shakes his head. “You’re delusional if you think they aren’t fucking.”

Tony gasps, putting a hand over his heart. “Nah, nah. No way. They’re babies.”

“Tones, they went to high school together. I’ll bet five bucks they lost their v-cards under the bleachers at some football game junior year.” Peter spots Wade and smiles widely, waving at him. “Yeah, see? He brought Matt. Come on, you’ll love them both.”

Tony is seemingly in a disturbed trance at Peter’s news about Wanda and Vis, but follows Peter anyway. “No way…” he whispers. 

Peter rolls his eyes and gives Wade’s cheek a kiss before sitting across from him. “Hey Matt, Wade! This is Tony, he’s my friend.”

Wade side eyes Tony, likely wondering what’s changed since the last time Peter cried about his best friend ignoring him. But he smiles and nods to them both. “Hey, baby. Nice to meet you, Tony. You feeling alright, Peter?”

Peter blushes a bit, but he nods and smiles. “Yeah, I’m good. Great.”

Matt smirks, cocking his head to the side. Peter is always just a little freaked out by him; it’s like he knows things. Like he sees things everyone else can’t even though he’s blind. “Nice to meet you, Tony. Is Tony in your biology lecture, Peter?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, stealing a fry from Wade’s tray. “We just came from there.”

“Well, you guys should go get in line. I think we’re about to get flooded with students.” Matt turns his face towards the door.

Peter bolts up, grabbing Tony by the arm. “Come on.”

“What?” Tony asks, looking confused. “There’s no one here.”

“Matt is never wrong,” Wade supplies, munching on a fry and grinning. “Oh look, here they come,” hen nods to the window facing out, and it’s like a whole building of classes let out at once.

“Damn,” Tony says, laughing. “Come on!”

Peter laughs and leads him towards a line at a burger place, grinning. It feels almost normal, and he couldn’t be happier. 

~

Peter sighs and leans against the wall outside of Bucky and Steve’s apartment. “Well I wouldn’t sound so sad if you just came with me,” he mumbles into the phone, knowing he’s pouting but he can’t seem to help it.

“We’re initiating this semester’s new freshman,” Wade says for what’s probably the tenth time, and Peter can practically feel the impatience rolling off of him through the phone. “I can’t miss this.”

“I know,” Peter whines, crossing his free arm over his torso. “Still.”

Wade chuckles softly, and Peter hears someone start the music in the background. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promises lightly. “I’ll blow your mind when you get back tonight.”

Peter feels himself shiver, and a grin grows on his face. “Promises,” Peter says, voice lilting with laughter.

“Yeah, I promise,” Wade says, a grin evident in his voice. “And I’ll keep you in bed all weekend too, you’ll have jelly for legs by Monday.”

Peter feels his face heat up, and he giggles softly. “Stop it,” he whispers, as if anyone could hear them. 

“You won’t be saying that again all weekend,” Wade promises, and Peter can almost see him wiggling his eyebrows at Peter. 

Peter laughs and pushes himself off the wall, sighing heavily. “I’ll hold you too that, babe. I’ll see you later tonight,” he says.

Wade hums and laughs softly. “See you later, sweetheart,” Wade says, before hanging up. 

Peter sighs and pockets his phone, taking a few deep breaths before opening the door. “Hey guys!” he calls, and follows the sounds of greeting to the living room. 

Bucky and Steve have their apartment set up differently than Thor or Tony, who have lots of couches and loveseats scattered around. They have exactly one couch in the middle of the room, which can seat four people if you squeeze. When they all meet at this apartment, they drag the chairs from their kitchen table in, as well as their desk chairs, and everyone has to make do with those or find a comfy spot on the floor. 

Peter’s finds it cozier. It reminds him of May's apartment. 

When he walks in, it seems like they decided to forgo the furniture, as the couch is pushed back slightly and there are no chairs. Instead, there’s a ton of blankets laid out on the floor and a few pillows scattered around. The coffee table stays in the middle of the room, and there are three cases of beers and two bowls of chips resting on it. “Well this is fun,” Peter says, smiling.

Steve looks up from his spot leaning against the couch, smiling at Peter reluctantly. They haven’t spoken since Steve told him about Tony, other than Steve texting him apologies. “Pizza is on its way too. Bucky thought this might be more fun, since we’re catching up and all.” He pulls a can of beer out and offers it to Peter. 

Peter hums and looks around the room. Bucky is on Steve’s right, talking to Sam on his other side. Rhodey is sitting on the curve of the circle next to Sam, on his phone, and there’s an empty space on his other side. Natasha is sitting on Steve’s left, half in Clint’s lap, who is next to her. Thor is on the other curve, talking to Bruce who’s next to him. Wanda and Vis aren’t here yet, and neither is Tony. He takes the beer and opens it, thanking Steve.

Not really wanting to talk to Rhodey or Bruce right now, he sits in the middle of the circle, surrounded by empty spaces, and smiles at Sam and Bucky. “Do you guys have your anth midterms back yet?” he asks across the coffee table, just to say something.

Bucky groans dramatically, leaning into Sam who’s put an arm around Bucky’s shoulder. “Why would you even bring that up?” he pouts.

Peter laughs, grabbing a chip and nibbling on it. “I’ve gotten all of my midterm grades back except for my intro to philosophy class. But I’m convinced he’s just high all the time and probably forgot he’s a professor anyway.”

Sam snorts at that, shaking his head fondly. “You have that class with Vis, right?”

Peter nods while taking another bite. “Yup. I don’t wanna ask him about it though, because he’ll start telling me about his answers and stuff. I’m only taking it for the humanities credit!”

Bucky grins at him. “You mean you don’t want to debate for hours who the better philosopher was between Aristotle and Plato?” 

Peter makes a face that gets the both of them laughing, and he scoots a bit closer to Rhodey so he’s more facing firmly in between the couple. “Half the time when Vis talks, I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about. Like I think he’s speaking English, but I’m just nodding along and hoping he doesn’t ask me what I think.”

“No one will make you feel more stupid than a philosopher,” Sam agrees lighthartedly. He takes a sip of his own beer. 

The door opens and Wanda walks in, pulling Vis with her by the hand. “Hello everyone!” she greets, and then smiles as she takes in the circle. “Oh, lovely!”

Bucky waves at them. “Hey Wanda, Vis. How’s it going?”

Vis chooses to sit next to Bruce, so Wanda sits next to him and leans into his side. “I’m good, but all my professors decided to assign a million assignments first week back from break.”

Bruce laughs, turning to face the couple. “Dr. Stephens actually gave us a whole packet he wants us to get done this weekend. Six pages full of stupid physics equations, just shoot me now.”

Wanda grins and looks over Vis to talk to him. “We should set up a time to work on it together,” she suggests. “When do you work?”

“You mean, so you can ask me questions and copy my answers,” he teases her, shaking his head fondly. “I work all day on Saturday, but I get off at 4:00 on Sunday.”

“Can I come over to your apartment around 5:00, then?” she asks with a cheeky smirk, not denying his accusation. She grabs a couple beers, passing one to Vis before taking a sip of her own. 

“Yeah, sounds good,” he grumbles, but laughs and leans back again. Peter can’t help but smile; his friends are all so…interesting. 

The door opens once more and Peter turns his attention to the last newcomer, smiling softly as Tony walks in. “Hey everyone!” Tony calls, walking in and smiling. He shuts the door behind him. “Caught the delivery guy on the way up, so I bring weed and pizza.”

The group whoops as a whole, and Tony sets the pizza boxes down in the middle of the coffee table, on top of the beers. Then he sits in between Peter and Rhodey, rummaging through his pockets before pulling out a blunt and lighter. “You wanna go first, Pete?” Tony asks, offering it to him. 

Peter doesn’t really smoke, and he thought Tony would know that by now. He’s eaten a special brownie once, but his trip was…not fun, to say the least. “Uh…”

“That’s your attempt to make up?” Rhodey hisses, soft enough it might have meant to not be overheard. “Give me that,” he says louder, shoving the blunt between his lips and shooting Tony a look. “Where’d you get the shiner anyway?” Peter thinks they must still be fighting themselves, if Tony hasn’t seen Rhodey all week. 

Tony blinks and looks from Peter to Rhodey, making an annoyed noise. “Got in a fight over break,” he says simply, and seems to start a silent conversation with Rhodey. 

“A fight?” Natasha asks, drawing attention away from them. “That doesn’t sound like a relaxing break. Who’d you get in a fight with, anyway?”

Thor snorts, grabbing a slice of pizza with one hand and keeping the other in his lap. “I’ll bet ten dollars I had the worst break.”

“Nah,” Bruce says, staring jealously at the still unlit blunt in Rhodey’s mouth. “I spent my whole break getting yelled at by my mother and working. You wanna know what I had for Thanksgiving dinner? A turkey sub from that place on 6th.”

Rhodey finally lights the blunt when Tony looks away, taking a long drag before passing it straight to Bucky who smirks at Sam before starting his own hit. “Don’t look at me, I had a great break. Food was great, my family is great.”

“My parents forgot I was coming home,” Vis pipes up, grabbing two slices of pizza and handing one to Wanda. “They apparently booked a trip to Hawaii. I spent the whole week alone, and I had stale chips for Thanksgiving dinner.” 

Bruce shoves Vis’s shoulder lightly, sticking his tongue out at him. “Fine, you beat mine.”

Bucky passes the blunt to Steve, and Steve takes a much longer hit than he normally does. He wheezes just a bit on the exhale, but passes it on to Nat without a coughing fit. “I almost wish my parents forgot about me. I spent the whole week lying through my teeth about my entire life.”

Bucky frowns, turning a bit to look at Steve. “What’re you lying to Sarah for?”

Steve groans, shooting him a playful glare. “What am I not lying to her about? My major, my religion, my relationship status…”

“Dude,” Bucky says, eyes wide. “You haven’t even told her you’re not seeing Peggy anymore? That was two years ago!”

Steve ducks his head. “She makes Ma happy,” he mumbles.

Clint is already passing the blunt onto Thor by the time Peter breaks the silence after that. “I had a good time to May. I came out to her,” Peter pipes up.

Tony beams and pats Peter on the shoulder. “Hey, congratulations!” he says. Peter smiles back at him, feeling more relaxed. He grabs himself a piece of pizza while the group choruses their own congratulations. 

“Where is pretty boy?” Nat asks, stealing the slice from Clint’s hand and taking a bite, much to his visible annoyance. 

“His frat is doing initiations or something, I don’t even know.” Peter rolls his eyes, but his smile is still in place. “Seems a bit late in the semester in my opinion, but whatever.”

Bruce finally gets his hands on the blunt and takes his time with it before passing it on to Vis. Wanda steals it and takes a smaller hit before giving it to back Vis, blowing the smoke out and humming. “I had a great time, I got to see my brother. We don’t do thanksgiving, though, so no dinner. I think Vis is still winning. Sorry, Steve.”

Vis hands Peter the blunt and grins, kissing her hair softly. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” he whispers into her hair. 

Peter stares at the blunt for a second, contemplating. “What about you, Bucky? Got any war stories?”

“Nah. Well-” he grins, turning to Sam. “I did have my life threatened. Thrice.”

Sam scoffs, finishing his bite of pizza and rolling his eyes. “Sure, but they bought you ice cream right after, so I don’t think you qualify for worst break.”

Bucky chuckles softly and leans in to connect their lips chastly, bumping their shoulders. “What about you, nothing to complain about?”

Sam smirks, eyes alight with joy. “Nope,” he says, popping the P. “Don’t get an ego about it, though.”

Steve shifts away from Bucky just a bit, playing with a loose thread coming out of his sweater. He looks so sad and pathetic, Peter thinks. 

Peter puts the blunt between his lips, gaining a gasp from a few people and making Steve look up to see what caused it. His eyes go wide, and Peter hopes he sees this as the peace offering it is. He takes a deep breath and immediately starts hacking up a lung, his face going bright red. 

“Amateur,” Bruce teases, grinning at Peter. “You’re fine, breathe through it.”

Tony takes the blunt from Peter and passes it to Rhodey, looking at him with concern and patting Peter’s back. “Jesus, Pete, right in the deep end, huh? You ever heard of baby steps?”

Peter flips him off, but leans into his touch so he knows he isn’t really mad. “My lungs are on fire,” Peter croaks. 

Natasha laughs, shaking her head fondly. “Virgin lungs,” she tsks. 

Peter takes a deep breath, coughing once more and clearing his throat. It still feels like it’s in his lungs, and he wants to get it out so bad. “Jesus. I don’t think I ever need to do that again.”

The rest of them start laughing, even Tony who still looks a little worried. 

“What about you two?” Rhodey asks, passing the blunt back to Bucky. “You haven’t told your horror stories yet, are you really gonna let Vis win?”

“Well Tony hasn’t gone yet, he just mentioned the fight,” Clint says. “And he’s our only hope, because me and Nat had a great time. I love Yelana, she’s such a little-”

“Angel,” Nat finishes, stealing the slice from his hand again. “But we did have a good time, so you better have had a terrible time, Tones.”

“Thanks,” Tony says drily, rolling his eyes. “I mean other than existing under the suffocation of daddy dearest, not really. I’d rather they had forgotten about me and fly to Italy or some shit, does that mean I win?”

 Vis hums. “I dunno, I would have rather spent the holidays with my family, even if they don’t particularly like me.”

“Tony wins,” Rhodey says, shaking his head. “I’ve met his parents. He wins.”

Peter frowns, looking at Tony with sad eyes. Tony squirms and stands up suddenly, clearing his throat. “Where’s your bathroom, Barnes?”

“Down the hall,” Bucky says, pointing over his shoulder. 

Tony nods his thanks and heads that way, and somehow the blunt is back in Peter’s hand. “How’s it my turn again already?” 

“You spacing out there, Petey?” Wanda teases, grinning at him. 

Peter sticks his tongue out at her. “I’ve been high before. Once. It sucked.”

“Is it sucking this time?” Steve asks, smiling softly. 

Peter smiles back, and is happy that their little fight can just be behind them now. “Not yet, anyway. What do I do with this?”

Rhodey takes it from him. “Tony hasn’t had a hit yet, but normally you’d just put it out and leave it somewhere.”

“Well,” Tony says, sitting back down and sniffing. He grabs the blunt, holding it between his fingers. “Thor, you made the bet. Do you owe me ten dollars?”

Thor smirks, one arm hanging over Bruce’s shoulder. He shows off his other hand, covered in a bandage. “I’ll give you each one guess as to what happened.”

“You burned yourself taking out the turkey!” Nat pipes up, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Nope,” Thor smirks. “We don’t celebrate Thanksgiving.”

“You burned yourself cooking something else?” Clint asks.

“Nope!”

“You sprained your wrist jacking off,” Tony guesses, putting out the blunt. When did he take a hit? Peter doesn’t remember.

“Stark,” Thor says, scandalized. 

“You tripped down the stairs,” Bruce guesses.

“Nuh-uh.”

“You scraped it climbing a tree,” Rhodey says unenthusiastically.

“Not even close.”

“You slammed it in a car door,” Sam offers. 

“You slammed it in a regular door,” Bucky counters without waiting his turn.

“No and no.”

“You were the person Tony got that black eye from?” Steve offers, grinning.

“Rude,” Tony mumbles, rubbing his nose and grabbing a beer.

“No,” Thor laughs. “Closer, though.”

“You got in a fight with your brother,” Vis guesses.

“Closer,” Thor says, leaning foreword.

“Loki stabbed you because you annoyed him,” Wanda guesses, shrugging her shoulders.

“Closest!” Thor says, pointing at her. “I got stabbed by my secret sister I never knew about, because she killed a family while drunk driving and it broke up my father and her mother’s marriage.”

The room goes dead silent, and then Peter starts to giggle inappropriately. His giggles bring out everyone else’s slow laughter, until even Thor is holding his belly as he laughs about it. “Holy shit, Thor,” Peter says thorugh his giggles. “You win.”

“A secret sister?” Wanda asks, shaking her head. “Damn.”

“Wait, how old is your dad?” Nat asks, leaning her head on Clint’s shoulder and squinting at Thor. “If your dad started a whole new family after she was old enough to drive drunk?”

“Ancient,” Thor says, grinning. “He’s a lot older than my mom, like 12 years or something, and she was 35 when I was born. Loki was a miracle baby, she was 43.” 

“Can we play messiest family?” Clint asks, eyes sharp with mischief. “I think this could be fun.”

“Thor’s already won, though,” Bucky challenges. “What’s messier than a secret sister from your father’s secret first marriage?”

“Your parents were just teenagers, that’s a lot less messy. Messy, but less messy,” Natasha says, grinning at him. Bruce is staring at them, a sad look in his eyes. 

“My parents,” Peter starts, and then laughs as he realizes what he was about to say. Changes his mind, and instead says, “Are dead.”

Wanda starts to giggle hysterically, making Peter laugh as well. “Peter,” Wanda says, still giggling. “Most people don’t get that joke.”

“What joke?!” Bruce asks incredulously. But he’s looking at Peter now, so it worked out. “He just said a sad fact.”

Peter and Wanda both burst out laughing again, and the rest of the group slowly starts joining in, if only to diffuse the awkwardness. 

“You guys are fucking weird,” Steve says, shaking his head fondly. 

“Shit,” Tony whispers, making Peter turn to look at him. He quickly grabs a napkin and puts it to his nose. 

“Nose bleed?” Rhodey asks, and he has an expression on his face that Peter can’t really read. 

“It’s fine,” Tony mumbles, tilting his head back. 

“I had a nose bleed just the other day,” Thor says, looking at his beer in thought. “My mother said it was something to do with dry weather, but I thought that was one of those things moms make up.”

Clint snorts, pulling Nat more firmly into his lap. “Like an old wise tale?”

Sam barks a laugh. “Uh uh. What did you say?”

Clint frowns, narrowing his eyes. “What? An old wise tale.”

Sam snickers, and Bucky shakes his head fondly. “Wives’, Clint. An old wives’ tale.”

Clint’s jaw drops. “Shut up!” He says. “No, that doesn’t make any sense! It’s wise, as in wisdom.”

“No,” Steve says, a grin on his face. “No, an old wives’ tale means gossip, urban legend, superstitious. That type of thing.”

“‘S sexist,” Wanda mumbles. 

“Nuh uh, I don’t believe you,” Clint says, taking his phone out and jostling Nat. He looks it up, and gasps loudly. “No fucking way.” 

Everyone dissolves into a fit of giggles, and Peter feels mostly floaty, but a small part of him is too busy thinking about how this is the second nose bleed Tony has had in a week, that Peter knows of. He looks to Rhodey, who’s also looking suspiciously at Tony. When Rhodey looks up and sees Peter staring, he looks away and starts drinking more beer. 

Tony stands up, wiping his nose and sniffing once to test if it’s really over. “I’m gonna throw this away and wash my hands, anyone need anything while I’m up?”

Giggly ‘no’s are all he gets in response, so he leaves. Peter watches him go, forgetting why he was concerned but still feeling concerned. 

~

Peter sighs happily, putting his drink on the table before climbing onto his boyfriend. “I missed you,” he mumbles softly. 

Wade laughs, wrapping his arms around Peter’s waist. “You saw me like just a few hours ago,” he says playfully.

“Yeah, but I still missed you,” he pouts, kissing at Wade’s neck.

“Did you get high?” Wade asks, amusement in his voice. 

“Maybe,” Peter says, kissing up Wade’s neck and nibbling at his earlobe. “I had a little hit.”

Wade chuckles softly, moving one hand to rub up and down Peter’s back. “You said you don’t really do that,” Wade half asks. 

“Not really,” Peter agrees easily. “Listen, I seem to remember you promising to turn my legs into jelly.” He licks at the shell of Wade’s ear, earning a shiver. 

“Why did you decide to smoke?” Wade asks instead of responding, nuzzling Peter’s hair.

Peter pouts, kissing back down Wade’s neck. “We were just having fun. Everyone had dramatic ass stories from break and I just wanted to chill.”

“Yeah?” Wade asks, moving his free hand to rest on Peter’s hip. “What happened?”

Peter huffs in annoyance, starting to rock his hips into Wade’s. “Well, Thor got stabbed.”

Wade gasps, stilling Peter’s hips. “What?!”

“Yeah, he discovered he has a secret sister who killed a whole family or something and she stabbed his hand for some reason. He’s fine.” Peter whimpers softly, still trying to move his hips. “Wade, please!”

Wade laughs softly, kissing Peter’s hair. “That’s crazy, Pete. What else happened?”

Peter grunts, resting his head against Wade’s shoulder. “Well Bruce was all sad because Natasha and Clint are back together, and they went to her family’s house over break.”

“Why would that make Bruce sad?” Wade prompts.

Peter pulls back, scrunching his nose to showcase his displeasure. Wade only grins fondly, pushing some hair behind Peter’s ear. “Because he’s in love with Nat. They always fuck when she and Clint are off again, but it’s a secret so really I shouldn’t tell you.”

Wade’s eyes widen. “Damn.”

“Yeah, but that’s nothing,” Peter says, a smile starting to grow on his face. He doesn’t usually gossip, but it’s fun, apparently. “Steve’s in love with Bucky, but Bucky started to date Sam. And Sam took Bucky home over the break to meet his family!”

Wade blinks rapidly, shifting under Peter. “Steve is the one who slept with your best friend, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but we made up. Me and Steve, and me and Tony. Tony apologized during class so we’re good now. But I think he might be getting sick or something, because he got a nose bleed.”

“A nose bleed?” Wade asks, grabbing Peter’s water and handing it to him. He doesn’t comment on the incoherency of that last story. 

Peter hums his thanks and takes a sip, and then nods. “Yeah, d’ya think that’s something to worry about? I don’t think I’ve ever had a nose bleed.”

“I get them sometimes, if the weather is bad,” he says, shrugging. “Your friends are…a bunch, aren’t they?”

Peter nods proudly, starting to giggle. He drinks more water and then hands it back to Wade. “It’s never boring, that’s for sure.”

Wade hums, moving his hands up Peter’s sides. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah!” Peter says, smiling happily. He leans in and hovers his lips just above Wade’s. “You should fuck me.”

Wade laughs breathily, connecting their lips softly before pulling back just a bit. “You’re high,” he mumbles. He puts Peter’s water back down. 

“Yeah, and?” Peter asks, connecting their lips again. Wade allows it for a little bit, before pulling back again. Peter whines in annoyance. “Waaaade. At least lemme suck your dick.”

He earns a gasp out of his boyfriend, but only that. “I’ll fuck you extra tomorrow,” Wade bargains, nosing under Peter’s jaw and kissing there softly. 

Peter gasps and tilts his head back, cupping the back of Wade’s neck to keep him there. “What does that even mean?” he asks breathlessly, biting his lip.

Wade chuckles and kisses his neck more, ignoring the question. He turns the lamp off and moves the both of them on their sides, kissing Peter’s neck the whole time. 

“Feels good,” Peter gasps, holding onto Wade. 

“Yeah?” Wade whispers, moving his lips up to Peter’s jaw.

“Yeah,” Peter says, his eyes drooping as he starts to feel sleepier. “Don’t stop,” he mumbles.

“Won’t,” Wade says, his lips moving along his jaw. It feels good, and Peter is so happy and floaty, and he doesn’t even notice the way he slowly drifts off to sleep.

~

Tony scratches at his face, eyes twitching almost violently. He did way too much, he used twice as mich as he usually does. But he woke up with a headache and a crippling urge to use, and it’s Saturday so he has no where to be and no plans to keep, so he thought it was a good idea at the time.

Tony feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest. He’s fucking stupid. He shouldn’t have done this. There’s so many things he shouldn’t have done. He shouldn’t have slept with Steve. He shouldn’t have hurt Peter with his words. He shouldn’t have ignored Peter. He shouldn’t have let Peter date Wade, he should have told Peter how he felt. And now he’s gone and fallen in love with Wade, they love each other, and Tony is stupid. 

He’s fucked up, he’s fucked everything up. He’s done irreparable damage to all of his relationships, all of his friends hate him, he’s going to die alone. 

He’s going to die, right now. His heart is going to give out, and he’s going to die in his apartment, all alone. How long will it take for anyone to even notice he’s dead? Is there anyone left who would care? Has he driven everyone who cares about him away?

He’s dying. He’s actively dying. He’s dying, and-

“Tony!” Rhodey yells, and when and how did he even get here? Rhodey looks angry-no. No, he looks scared. “Tony, please! Please, just breathe. You can’t hold your breath, man, you have to breathe.”

Tony gasps in a desperate breath, and immediately starts hyperventilating. He feels tears streaming down his face, and he can’t tell if it’s snot or blood that’s pouring out of his nose but he can’t breathe either way. “R-R…R-”

“Breathe,” Rhodey says, grabbing Tony’s hand and holding it to his chest. “Breathe, Tony. Like me. In…Out. Come on, Tones, you can do it. It’s a panic attack, you’ve had one before. It’s just a panic attack. Breathe with me. In…”

Tony is shaking. He’s shaking, and he doesn’t think that he can actually breathe like Rhodey wants him to. But he’s here, at least. He looks like he would care if Tony died right now. So he isn’t completely alone, at least. 

“You’re doing great, Tones. You’re breathing, see? You’re breathing. Keep doing it. In…out…With me, just like that. Good job. Keep breathing,” Rhodey says, using his free hand to cup the back of Tony’s neck. 

Tony sobs brokenly, his hands shakily coming up to hold onto Rhodey’s shirt. “Rhodey,” he croaks. He’s still shaking, still can’t breathe right. 

“I’m here,” Rhodey says, squeezing the back of Tony’s neck in a way that sends calm through him. “I’m right here. Keep breathing.”

Tony takes in the deepest breath yet, letting it out shakily, and then does it again. He does it five more times before Rhodey finally gives him a shaky smile, nodding once. “Rhodey…”

“We’re talking about it,” Rhodey says, an edge to his voice. “But we’re getting you cleaned up first, and you’re going to drink some water, and we’re waiting until you’re breathing evens out.”

Tony nods slowly, unable to keep eye contact. He lets Rhodey clean his face up with some tissues first and then washes his face with water, careful not to let it splash all over his front. Then Rhodey hands him a water bottle and Tony takes slow sips from it until it’s half gone.

“Better?” Rhodey asks, once they’re sitting on one of Tony’s couches. 

Tony nods, running his thumb along the lid of the bottle. “I’m sorry, Rhodey,” he whispers softly, looking up with tears in his eyes. He doesn’t want to let them fall anymore, though. “I’m sorry. Not just for-for this. For today.”

Rhodey lets out a shaky breath, and puts a hand on Tony’s knee. “You’re a fucking asshole, Tony,” he starts, shaking his head. “But you’re my asshole. You’ve been my best friend forever, and short of trying to kill me personally, there’s nothing you could do to change that, okay? I’ll always be here. I’ll always forgive you.”

Tony feels one tear push over the edge, and the mix of guilt and pure, unadulterated love courses through him. No one has ever loved him like this, other than Rhodey. Not his parents; that’s a fucking joke. He would say Ana and Jarvis, but they were paid to be there, and they wouldn’t have been if they weren’t getting paid. Rhodey is the only one who loves him this way, unconditionally and without incentive. “Rhodey-” he starts, chokes.

Rhodey smiles and shakes his head, squeezing Tony’s knee. “I know. And the way you feel right now, the words you can’t say out loud? That’s why. That’s why I stay. I know, Tony.”

Tony puts his own hand over Rhodey’s, holding it shakily. He wants to be able to say it anyway, but he doesn’t have words to express the way he feels. Maybe one day he will. For now, he’s just going to trust that Rhodey is telling the truth and he knows what Tony feels. “I don’t deserve you,” he says instead.

Rhodey sighs dramatically, tilting his chin up-but his smile is still there. “I know,” he says. At Tony’s laugh, he turns back to Tony and nods. “Okay. Now we talk about it.”

“I…how long were you there, before I noticed you?” Tony asks. 

“A few minutes. Enough to hear something about Peter, fucking everything up, and how you’re going to die,” Rhodey supplies. 

Tony winces and then sighs, looking to his lap. “I slept with Steve,” he starts, and can’t fight his smile when Rhodey chokes. “I know, bad decision. Probably gonna do it again.”

“Do-do not-Tony!” Rhodey chokes, half incredulous and half highly amused. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Steve Rogers?! Perhaps the only living person left on this entire planet more emotionally constipated than you?”

Tony barks a laugh, looking up at Rhodey with a shaky smile. His high is already starting to wear off, and he hates it. “I dunno, honeybear, I think Bruce might be up there. And Clint.”

“Nuh uh, they’re stupid,” Rhodey says, shaking his head. “They know how they feel, and they can talk about it. They just keep staying in the situation anyway. You can’t even talk about your feelings, or even label them most of the time.”

“Shut up,” Tony grumbles, wiping his cheek from the wetness. “Whatever. It was a mistake, I shouldn’t have done it. He came to my apartment all upset because he saw Barnes kissing Wil-Sam, and I was upset because Peter is always kissing Wade, and…I dunno.”

Rhodey sighs, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest. “Jesus Christ, Tones.”

Tony shrugs, sniffling and rubbing under his nose. “And then he went and blabbed about it to Peter, of all fucking people-” Rhodey whips his head around to look at Tony, eyes wide. “Yeah, I know. What the fuck was he thinking? Whatever, doesn’t matter. He told Peter, and so Peter came to my apartment like a week later or something, right before we all left for break. And he started saying all this stuff about how I hate him, and he just wants me to tell him what he did wrong so he could apologize, and I…I…”

Rhodey narrows his eyes. “What did you say?”

Tony pulls at his fingers nervously. “Okay, I admit to being the most emotionally constipated person on earth.”

“What did you do, Tones?” Rhodey asks, sounding tired and wary.

Tony scratches the back of his neck. “Well, what I meant to say was that I’m no good for him, that my life is hell and he shouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole. That I want to love him and be in a relationship with him, that I’m not only interested in fucking him.”

“But you didn’t say that,” Rhodey guesses. 

“No. I…” Tony groans and puts his head in his hands. “It’s so much worse now that I’ve had time to think about it!”

“Tony…”

“I said I’m not allowed to date him because I’m expected to marry a rich heiress and have a bunch of pretty babies to carry on my family name,” Tony says quickly, letting out a shuddery breath at the end.

“Tony,” Rhodey says, scandalized. 

“He said, ‘What a relief to find out that you don’t hate me, you just think I’m a worthless nobody!’” Tony leans back on the couch, rubbing a hand down his face. “And I didn’t know how to tell him that he’s the…that he…fuck,” Tony shakes his head, still not able to find the right words. “It’s the wrong way ‘round. I’m the worthless one, he’s the one that’s too good. Way too fucking good for me.”

“Tony,” Rhodey starts, changes his mind. He rubs a hand down his own face, before shaking his head. “I’m not going to sugar coat it, Tones. You fucked that one up. You’re lucky he forgave you.”

“I know,” Tony mumbles, rubbing under his nose before pulling his knees to his chest.

They let the silence sit for a while, but then Rhodey sighs. “Are we going to talk about your newest problem?”

Tony winces, resting his chin on his knees. “Dad hit me,” he says softly, and hears Rhodey shift to face him. “Told me I that if I was going to disappoint him by doing drugs, I could at least choose one that makes me productive so I’ll be a little less worthless for an hour at a time.”

Rhodey’s hand clenches into a fist on his thigh, and his jaw works. “If I could get away with it-”

“He’s right, though,” Tony says, digging his fingers into his legs to help him not cry. “It makes me a lot more productive. More sociable. I’ve managed to not massively piss anyone off for a whole week, that’s a new record.” His voice fails him at the end, turning the joke more sad than he wanted it to be. “All my assignments are done and turned in, I’m sure my professors suspect something,” that jokes lands better, pulling a pity laughs from Rhodey. “I feel better, when I’m on it. Usually. Happier.”

“It’s not really happiness,” Rhodey argues softly. He puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “And it’s dangerous.”

“I know,” Tony mumbles sadly. “But I don’t want to stop yet. I need…I need to know I won’t drown, when I stop. I need to know I’ll be okay after. I can’t…I don’t want to feel that low again, when I was on break. Right after he hit me, and I thought Peter hated me and you hated me and everyone else was going to hate me soon.” He looks to Rhodey, his heart pounding for a new reason. “I don’t wanna feel that way again. I felt like…like there wasn’t a reason to keep going.”

Rhodey’s hand tightens on Tony’s shoulder, and his breathing starts to quicken. “Tony-”

“I’m not-” Tony shakes his head, taking a deep breath. “I’m not going to- do that. I just…I don’t want to feel like it, even if I won’t do anything about it.”

“You need to talk to someone,” Rhodey whispers softly. 

Tony smiles sadly, pushing his shoulder more into Rhodey’s hand. “That’s what you’re for, sourpatch. Free therapy.”

“Tony,” Rhodey warns, a lecture on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m Howard Stark’s kid, I don’t get to go to therapy. I buck up and bury my feelings. It’s the Stark way,” he says sadly, shrugging. “I’ll figure it out, eventually. I’ll be fine.”

Rhodey rubs at his face, shaking his head. Then he sighs, squeezing Tony’s shoulder once more. “Okay. Okay, Tones. But you have to call me if you’re feeling like this again, okay? I don’t care what time it is, and I don’t care how sure you are that you aren’t going to do anything. You call me.”

Tony feels that surge of warmth again, and nods his agreement. “Promise.”

Rhodey lets him go, leaning back in the chair and staring into the distance. After what feels like the most comfortable silence they’ve shared in a long time, and scoffs “Steve Rogers?”

“Shut up,” Tony laughs, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s stupid and annoying, but he’s also hot as fuck.”

Rhodey shoots him an unimpressed look. “You fuck hot people all the time, you couldn’t find a different one?”

Tony sighs and leans back, letting his head fall to the back of the couch. “I’m gonna do it again, too. I just know it.”

Rhodey scoffs again, scratching at his cheek. “You are hands down, by far, the most self destructive person I’ve ever met.”

Tony smiles sadly, but then it disappears and he turns to Rhodey with genuine anxiety. Enough to make Rhodey tense. “But you’ll always be here to pick up the pieces,” he whispers, somehow able to keep it from sounding like a question. 

Rhodey sighs, but he nods. “Always, Tones.”

#starker #my writing #fanfic #my college au #spideypool #tw: blood #tw: violence mention #tw: drug use #tw: panic attack #tw: alcohol #tw: unhealthy relationship #tw: unhealthy coping mechanisms

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

Why are you made the game is good lol The only places saying it's "bad" are because they are on copium as a trans person, which are the minority as always. Cope harder thanks

Can't believe I have to fucking repeat myself.

(Also, hey, fun fact, Kyle Rittenhouse, might have heard of him murdered two people and wounded a third, he also has a game on Steam right now, about murdering journalists and Antifa, currently under the Overwhelmingly Positive reviews, because guess fucking what.

It's a fucking two way street. You think none of those reviews were influenced from the other side either?).

#tw: violence mention #anti hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy

[belovedcorvid]

❣︎ | Rage |

The bird is capable of the same whip-crack rage as his brother if someone pushes him on a few very specific triggers - primarily those related to body boundaries and chasing people to harm / threaten them, especially children. He just tends to have a really rigid sense of guilt and self-control, where his brother has none.

My portrayal of C.ora has absolutely hurt someone significantly and disproportionately for touching him when he did not want to be touched.

Being chased / pursued / caught is something he has had nightmares about since he was small for obvious reasons, and continues to have indefinitely with variable frequency.

Comforting him after these isn't always possible for someone else to do. Time alone and strong sensory pressure help - something controlled to feel something on purpose, cold exposure like an ice bath or time out in the snow without winter gear come to mind.

L.aw running through the hospital while the doctors scream about catching him spooks him every time

There has been an instance where L.aw has had to scream at him and hit him across the back / shoulders with something to get him to stop hurting someone - probably a doctor or another encounter with someone that treated Law particularly poorly.

He usually talks less after things like this, and getting him to talk directly about anything like this afterwards is like pulling teeth.

#tw: violence mention #ask to tag #❣ | since always :: headcanons | #❣ | caught :: fears | #big ' I'm not a violent dog I don't know why I bite ' energy

[xtinyslip]

MARK COULD FEEL THE SELF DESTRUCTIVE RAGE BURNING UNDER HIS SKIN. sure, above everyone he blamed himself for what was happening to his partner. he was the one who had kept him waiting for too long but the person who was next in line? was this sorry fuck. "you're going to answer me honestly or i'm going to shoot out your kneecaps! maybe i'll do it anyway. who knows?" seeing peter like that, knowing how fucking petrified he was and knowing that the chances were that he was going to die alone in that room. well, it would be enough to push anyone over the edge but consider mark hoffman pushed over the ledge. "did you know that pederson was killing him from the inside out? or were you really that much of a fucking idiot that you didn't see the signs? YOU KNEW HE WASN'T OKAY AND YOU LIED TO ME!" answering for him? well, he was suffocating in his grief, his hurt, his anger -- in everything. @lcvenderhcze

#mark ; convo #mark ; parker #tw: mental health #tw: gun mention #tw: violence mention #tw: murder mention #like... he's in a really bad place so i apologise for just everything that happens in this thread :/ :L

[xstarkillerx]

PLEASE talk to me about Starkiller so i have something to look forward to in my inbox for when I’m done this semesterrrrrrr. Idk send asks or something

Like, I’m sorry I’ve been thinking about him so much lately, and I literally don’t have time to proofread this, but I weirdly I find it so hard to write smut for him because realistically he’d have an extremely complicated sense of sexuality. But I’m soooooo fascinated by him. Like, until the age on 19, everything in his life was tied to violence; fatherhood, physicality, mentorship, education, life’s purpose. what does that do to a person who only just discovered a life outside of the sith.

 It’s a very complex thing, trying to recover from the dark side, right. On one hand, passion is a key characteristic of sith ideology, something that he would have been encouraged to draw power from, and on the other hand, he had to stifle so much of who he was when he was under Vader that all he knows is restraint restraint restraint, hold your tongue, bow close to the floor in his presence, keep yourself strong, keep yourself secret. So, when you put your body in his hands, sometimes he doesn’t know what to do with himself. How much is too much, what pain is good pain?

Sometimes all he thinks about is that version of himself, the sith apprentice who was taught that bodies mean nothing, that those weaker than himself deserve to be destroyed. Sometimes he thinks about destroying you.  The touch of your skin alone makes him hard and fucking desperate, it takes more consciousness of his influence over the force than he’d ever admit to stop visions of you, wrecked and fucked out on the floor of the Rogue Shadow, from leaking into your brain. He isn’t always successful, there are ghosts of bruises on your hips from the thought of drilling into you, getting you dumb on his cock. He wants to hear you cry, choke his wretched name, the name given to him by his master caught up in your throat while he fucks you like you mean nothing. Sometimes it gets worse though, his hands on your waist conjures up images of breaking ribs with his bare hands, kissing your neck puts flashes of bloody, bitten jugulars and torn flesh in his teeth. The heat of your body as he runs his fingertips between your thighs is like the gentle warmth after a blast of force lighting. His muscle memory taunts him.

He is terrified of the day you tell him to let go. When the gentle kisses and making love isn’t enough for you and you tell him to stop holding back. What then? How much of himself can he give over to you before hurts you?

#starkiller smut #starkiller nsft #the force uneashed #the force unleashed 2 #galen marek smut #galen marek nsft #donnie does 👑 #tw: violence mention

[fcdcdmcmories]

closed starter for @xtinyslip ( cecilia )!

he didn't know who he was more scared of . either her or kramer , but .. in diego's mind , the alternatives were both legit terrifying . kramer had strapped a pair of bombs to his arms and told him to figure it out and the way that he hadn't died ... well , he had no clue as to how he had managed to get out of there with his head still attached to his shoulders . regardless , it didn't mean that cecilia was any less terrifying , because .. well , she was . scary as shit . a scary as shit boss that he was not face to face with .. wasn't that just peachy ? "huh ... hi , boss ," if there had been a way to dig a hole to bury himself in , he would have done it without blinking . " good to see you ! you're looking .. huh , well? alive-ish? do you need a ride somewhere? hopefully not to ... you know , murder anyone ?" well, he had been the one to out her and all the others to kramer . could anyone blame him for being scared shitless that she was going to kill him for that? MAYBE . SHIT .

#(i didn't do anything. i told you everything that you wanted to know. || diego cortez). #tw: death mention #tw: mental health #tw: violence mention #tw: bomb mention

[lcvenderhcze]

HIS DAUGHTER HAD MADE A MESS OUT OF THINGS. was it to be expected? yes, leaving her in charge had been a very, very big mistake and right now, finn was well aware of that. leave other people to do your work and you're going to end up having to go back and doing it yourself - it was something that he should have known a long time ago, that was for sure. and the stupid little clinic that he heard that she had set up? it was as ridiculous as being caught in the path of a serial killer as dangerous as john kramer and in two words.. well, it was failure after failure and perhaps, it was time for him to step in. "i don't know which one is more ridiculous," would she be surprised to see him? well, whatever she had - it had come from him and so, everything in here was his to begin with. "getting caught and made a fool of by a second rated serial killer or letting that stupid little con-artist boyfriend of yours threaten you. DID I NOT TEACH YOU BETTER, CECILIA? we do the threatening. not the other way around. and when someone becomes a liability? we remove them out of the way. we don't allow them to push us around." it wasn't as if they had seen one another in a long time or anything. family reunions could wait. they had something to do here. "or perhaps - the most ridiculous thing of all is whatever little set up you've got going for yourself in here? what made you believe you had the right to abandon our work and to follow up with.. whatever charity this is? FRANKLY, IT SEEMS AS IF I GOT HERE JUST IN TIME, to stop my daughter from becoming a complete failure. now, sit down. we have work to do and a lot to talk about." @xtinyslip

#finn ; talks. #finn ; cecilia p. #hehehee #tw: death mention #tw: violence mention #tw: scam

[demongemz]

The rage ate him daily whenever he thought of his old friend he sneered at the very thought of referring to that murder as a friend. He’d trusted Harry and just because the brat didn’t get his way he took everything from him, destroying whatever goodness that was left in his heart when he buried Gwen, he’d tried to return to normal and be the neighborhood spider man but his punches started getting hard to hold back on, the villains always seemed to break out and hurt more and more people to the point where if he snapped their bones they stayed down longer. He’d stopped being the hope of the city and instead became its nightmare but he couldn’t find it in him to care anymore. This place he’d tracked Harry down, had been time-consuming but it wasn’t as if he had anything left to live for now, he’d heard some rumors in terms of people not remembering things and wondered how he’d take the other down, he didn’t deserve to live not after he killed Gwen so easily. “Hey Stranger” he schooled his feature placing on a smile once the other turned around. “Long time no see…I have to admit you never seemed like the London type to me…” @desastreorcalamite

#c: desastreorcalamite || Harry Osborn #Peter || Threads #tw: murder mention #mental health tw #tw: violence mention