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#using dark humour as a coping mechanism is so telling about who he is and what hes been through

georgieluz · 7 months

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if you don't mind much, what was every thought that crossed your mind during ray persons scenes in gen kill?

every single thought? anon, don't tempt me

that being said, i shall give the people what they want! so ray is the kind of annoying that i live and breathe for. the kind of annoying that makes me wanna open up his brain and dive inside. just pure unadulterated unhinged energy! zero shame or dignity present in that one. none whatsoever. but it's endearing y'know? i wanna tell him to shut the fuck up but i also want him to live in my pocket and give me a running commentary on my life?

i didn't wanna love him at first. it's gonna sound weird but it felt too predictable for me to go for yet another smartass idiot who can't for the life of him know when to shut the fuck up. so i kind of rebelled against myself and held out for a while. eventually though, he did wear me down and i did find myself shaking my head disapprovingly but smiling fondly alongside brad. i think though it was the deeper aspects of his character that finally drew me in, the ones that you have to look deeper into, in the shorter scenes that maybe don't seem that important but have subtler little details.

and if we do wanna get deep about it then i always enjoy a character who clings desperately onto humour and sheer absurdity as a coping mechanism. it's pretty clear that ray falls within that category and i did enjoy getting to see a little bit of how he reacts when he can't reach for that coping mechanism as easily, when he's too exhausted and fed up to pull the mask on.

another thing i noticed that made me appreciate him from just a really small action is in the episode where everyone is trying to cheer walt up. ray uses his method of being a comedic annoyance to give walt some kind of normalcy that he probably isn't getting from the others, who are trying to reassure him and look after him in a more direct and 'impactful' way. but ray decides to go and basically dry hump his head and say stupid shit and yeah, walt is a bit irritated bc of everything he's dealing with, but as a viewer, we get to see ray actively using the way the other marines see him to try and give walt a sense of "nothing is going to change, you're still you and i'm still me". whilst brad, nate and espera are there basically outwardly telling him not to worry (and walt needed that too, i love my dads <3), ray takes a much subtler approach in supporting him. which when you think about it, really is the opposite to how we talk about ray usually. he's anything but subtle generally, so i think this little bit of information and look into his character, and intentions, was something that just really stood out to me bc he chose that approach for walt, imo at least. i know it's a tiny tiny scene but it just helped confirm a lot of my thoughts about how ray approaches things and how, sure, he is naturally unhinged and doesn't think before he speaks a lot, but sometimes, you can actively see him using that humour and those jokes and all his ridiculous antics to pull his friends out of whatever dark crevice their mind has fallen into. he does it with brad as well. i feel like his actor portrayed those purposeful moments really well also, because for me, i could tell when he was just being ridiculous and himself and talking shit, and when he was playing it up to keep others focused on him and not the other shit going on around them. anyway. this is one of the reasons i love his character and his portrayal a lot. it's not lost on me that it actually is a back-and-forth with ray that eventually pulls walt out of his downward spiral either, at least surface-level. it was a team effort, but ray continuing to prode him eventually got him to 'snap out of it' and feel like he was being treated normally.

and as much as i loved his comedic scenes throughout the series, and all his songs and ways of keeping everyone entertained, i really enjoyed his portrayal and depiction in the last two or so episodes, where you start to notice the mask slipping. it's thrown back on pretty quickly, but i appreciated that we got that small insight into how everything has actually affected him and it actually felt different afterward. he goes back to being a smartass and being the annoying friend who never shuts up, but you can see he's changed somewhere deep down underneath as well.

and the fact that it's his final look toward trombley that kind of sums up the conclusion of the show and the true realisation about what they did there. i don't know if i can explain it coherently yet, i guess i'm still processing what i'm trying to say about that final scene. i'm sure it's been said a thousand times by someone, a lot more eloquently that i ever could, but his final look really spoke volumes to me. his reaction to trombley and the video and then finally walking away felt like a confirmation of the message that the show presents to us throughout the whole series, but which they let us pick up and spin around for a few episodes to fully absorb, before letting ray finish it up with a single look. idk, maybe i'm just rambling.

maybe this is completely different from what you were asking for anon, so i'm really sorry if it disappoints you, or you were just looking for silly commentary on all the unhinged shit that comes out of his mouth lmao but yeah. i am a little bit obsessed with ray person. i truly would like to examine his brain up close.

all that raging internalised homophobia as well, huh?

anyone wanna unpack that with me?

it'll be fun, i promise

#me when i started replying to this ask: i'm just gonna keep it brief bc it's midnight and i'm already kinda sleep deprived #i'm so sorry it ended up being this long #it might not make sense bc i only got like 30 minutes sleep last night and i had to wake up at 5am #but i do in fact have several thoughts about ray avril person #do i ship ray and walt now? is this a thing? oh god do i?#i don't know????#i probably don't? right?#generation kill #julian's inbox

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writing-for-life · 5 months

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Tell me more about your OC, Thalia! How did you get the idea for her? What’s your fav part about her? Any thoughts about her as a character that ended up on the cutting room floor?

I love those questions! My OCs are my babies, I love talking about them!

I’m super used to writing OCs since that’s usually all I write (The Light of Stars is actually my first fanfic, believe it or not, but I’ve written original stories for literal decades).

Funnily enough, Thalia started with… the name. I knew from the start there would be a lot of references to Greek mythology. Too much to mention here, people who read the fic will know, but I had this idea about Psyche’s journey to the underworld I wanted to reference at some point, and I also wanted a reference to a muse. Thalia had the nicest ring to it while being somewhat referential. Sometimes it’s really as simple as that 😂 I pronounce her Tah-lee-ya btw (it’s a less common pronunciation of that spelling, but it exists. I just didn’t want to spell her Talia for obvious reasons, but she totally sounds like it. And now I’ve destroyed the sound at least half of my readers had in their heads 🙈).

Thalia is the muse of comedy, and I wanted some of that in her. She has this intelligent sense of humour that is both genuine but also a coping mechanism, and it made for an interesting dynamic with Morpheus, who is always so serious. Her humour is, albeit observational, warm. She’s not a cynic although she has every reason to be, and I guess he knows that because he knows her story and what she’s been through, and it probably makes him think. He finds her challenging, but there is also an honesty and emotional openness to her, especially about her own hurt/darkness, that he finds intriguing. And that honesty also extends to how she relates to him—she is someone who actually sees him in the truest sense of the word, and it’s something he both needs so desperately but also finds impossible to trust and fully give in to for a very long time, and for a lot of reasons.

I guess the idea was to find someone who is in many ways like him (only in terms of shared human experience) but has a completely different way of dealing with it. It is, although a love story, at its core an exploration of trauma, loss and grief, of second or even third chances at life (however you might define the latter), and I’d long wondered what would happen if he met someone who is NOT trying to change him. They have their problems and conflicts, yes, but ultimately, this is about a deep mutual understanding that hinges on acceptance. And that acceptance is possible because it was there from the start, for reasons that I won’t give away here, but they are deeply rooted in how she always related to who and what he is on a conceptual level. And now I’m writing the sequel, and it becomes even more important.

My favourite part about her must be how she has the ability to make him laugh? Like, little by little, from something that barely makes him cock an eyebrow to a tug on the corners of his mouth to little smiles that get more frequent. And that moment when he sees the painting and actually realises he *is* like that around her was weirdly emotional to write because it wasn’t planned.

Plus, that she gets him to the stage where his laughs are actually audible, and they’re *not* weird. Well, at least not *that* weird. And from a writer’s point of view, it felt like a really natural, gradual progression that just happened, so it wasn’t something I had plotted. They just did their thing, and I wrote it down 😂

The stuff that ended up on the cutting room floor was mostly related to the no mortals rule. I explored a lot of different angles but ultimately didn’t want her to be a goddess or witch or somehow overpowered to circumvent that, it just didn’t sit right with me. So I spent a lot of time on setting up different beats that might look like one thing or another, but without giving too much away: The whole story hinges on her humanity and mortality, and it was ultimately the only thing that made sense.

Thanks again for the ask. It was a really good opportunity to talk about character creation/development, because so often, people seem to believe that all OCs are straightforward self-inserts, and nothing could be farther from the truth (OC fics aren’t reader fics). It’s impossible for characters not to have little bits of us because they come out of our brains, but they aren’t mirror images. I sometimes give characters little bits I’m confident in writing authentically without having to do a lot of research. For Thalia, it was drawing/painting. I had other female OCs that rode a motorcycle or did a martial art I’ve been familiar with since my childhood, others again were professional performers. I find I can write these things without overwriting them because I know what they feel like. Because sometimes, people will research these things and write them like an instruction manual. And while the detail is correct, someone who really *does* these things would never describe them that way. But that’s often really as far as it goes. It pains me to say that I’m far more like Morpheus than like Thalia, but I didn’t need to self-insert for that to be the case 😂

And now I want to know: What’s your favourite part about her and their dynamic? Other readers are welcome to chime in, too.

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imagineanime2022 · 1 year

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Fuyuhiko And Nagito Witn An S/O Who Uses Dark Humour

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu X Reader Nagito Kamoeda

Requested: Anon

Request: Hello again, Do you mind if i request headcanon Nagito and Fuyuhiko from Danganronpa with s/o who is play joke (sometime it is dark humors) anytime to hide her true feeling because she don't want everyone to worry about her?

Bossy anon

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

🐉 When he first met you the humor annoyed him, he honestly just found it an inconvenience to an investigation or discussion that happened around you. 🐉 He’d often tell you to stop talking or that listening to what you said would be a waste of time. 🐉 There have been a few times that he promised to carry out whatever you had joked about but that only seemed to make it worse. 🐉 When you got to know each other better and he was more receptive to having friends he worried more, he kept a better eye on you and noting whenever you disappeared so that he could go looking for you. 🐉 However he started actually asking you if you were okay when you started dating, he worried far more after you became official but you looked at him like he was confused. 🐉 With your lighter jokes, he’ll often just roll his eyes as you laugh loudly, holding your stomach and struggling to stand. 🐉 He preferred these jokes but they were never easy to clean up and while he might laugh at something you do sometimes he’ll make sure that you're the one that cleans it up and also makes you apologise if the victim of the prank didn’t find it funny. 🐉 He was very aware of you so he made sure that you were somewhere he could see you so he’d never become the victim of one of your plans. 🐉 He often became the victim of a specific prank, one where you didn’t answer the door straight away, he almost always worried that something had happened to you and almost broke the door down but you’d always open the door smiling wide and skipping past him like nothing happened. 🐉 “Will you stop that!?” “Where’s the fun in that?”

Nagito Komaeda

🍀 Nagito thought of you a lot after your first meeting, you were the only person that he seemed to understand given his own true feelings. 🍀 His coping mechanism was a little more tiring than yours and he found himself leaning on your own tricks to get himself through the day as well. 🍀 Nagito never directly involved himself unless he was the victim but you very rarely targeted him for whatever reason. 🍀 He never scolded you or asked you if you were okay because he could often tell what was going on with you, just by looking at you. 🍀 He was basically just a bystander before you started dating. 🍀 When you started dating Nagito would take most of the heat off of you and redirect it to himself a lot of the time not that anyone ever understood that, eventually it became fair knowledge that if Nagito claimed to have done it then you were probably the real culprit. 🍀 It didn’t take long for him to start joining you in your little jokes, it was one of the only times that he’d really smile, mostly because he could see a true smile on your face at his participation. 🍀 People were wary of being around you when you were together because you were always planning something and you were both very good at keeping secrets when you wanted to. 🍀 You could both go back and forth with dark humour if the time called for it with everyone around you wishing that you’d both shut up because they’ve never been more worried about either of you in their lives. 🍀 “What are you planning, little clover?” “Just a little prank, do you want to join me?”

Request Here!!

#danganronpa oneshot #danganronpa reader insert #danganronpa imagine #danganronpa #fuyuhiko kuzuryu #fuyuhiko kuzuryu imagine #fuyuhiko kuzuryu oneshot #nagito komeada #nagito kamaeada imagine #nagito kamaeada oneshot #imagine #oneshot #one shot #reader insert #headcannon #x reader #scenarios

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catchester · 3 years

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Guardians of the Galaxy, Ragnarok, and Classic Loki

I was discussing Classic Loki's costume with someone online and I admit, in the small teaser, I was really disheartened.

Yes, it was a faithful copy of a classic Loki costume, but comic book costumes are ridiculous, especially older ones. And if that wasn't bad enough, his pants looked like a nappy.

I'd been mostly impressed with the mixture of drama and comedy but this outfit was just a step too far for me. I was not confident in where the series was going.

Then in the next episode, they took this walking visual joke and gave him not only a full, but a fulfilling character arc.

I admit, Classic Loki is my second favourite variant, just pipped to the post by alligator Loki.

And isn't that weird? Alligator Loki is objectively more ridiculous, not in his costume but in his whole character. He's a freaking reptile FFS! But I love him.

And that reminded me of a discussion I'd had with a Ragnarok fan who would hear no wrong said about her movie. The points i brought up with her had nothing to do with Loki, I chose the slavery

It's on Sakar

Valkyrie is a slave trader selling people into certain death because no one wins forever, but somehow a hero,

And that Odin build Asgard using slave labour.

And there's the colonialism, related to the third point.

Both of these issues went totally unaddressed in a movie that didn't even need them. They could have written it a different way and still had a good movie.

I mentioned how T'Challa went into the afterlife to berate his father and ancestors for their wrongs and promise to correct their mistakes, while Thor went to his colonising, slaver father and... asks for advice? Really? That's like showing Thor asking Robert E Lee for advice.

She of course, argued that they were making entertainment, not the colour purple or 12 years a slave. Of course that's a straw man argument, but I reminded her that Black Panther had plenty of humour, and GotG literally sends itself up all the time, and even has a goddamn dance off with the villain, yet it still made me care enough to cry about the death of a tree!

Ragnarok had me wondering why Thor tortured his brother, do heroes do that now? Thor isn't even an anti-hero, he's just straight up hero. That scene just left me cold, it wasn't funny and because it was played for laughs, I didn't empathise with Loki. I mean, he just looks constipated.

You all know how much I love Loki, I've written enough stories about him, after all, but Ragnarok Loki is just meh. I care that he was being tortured from an intellectual perspective, because it feels wrong for the hero to do that, and his betrayal of Thor cam out of left field, but I don't feel sympathy for him. I can't relate to him, I feel neither love nor hate for him, I'm just indifferent (to all the characters actually).

The only thing that rouses any emotion in me is Taika and the rage his mishandling of important issues and dismissal existing character arcs brings out in me.

Contrast this torture scene with GotG, which had me sympathising with Nebula while she was being tortured because, sure she's a bad guy, but she's also a well rounded character and her torture wasn't being played for laughs. We know she's been tortured, in one way or another, her whole life. Yes, she's bad, but I can relate to her because I understand her.

Then this Taika fan said something that was more telling than she knew, and was actually 100% correct. Taika thinks comic books are ridiculous, and he's out here making a Road Runner movie.

And it suddenly hit me, she was right.

Everything in Ragnarok is treated the same way an anvil falling on Wile.E.Coyote's head is treated. There are no consequences. There are no lessons learned. There are no character arcs. At the end of the Road Runner series neither the roadrunner or the coyote had changed in any way. They were 2 dimensional, both literally and figuratively.

Unfortunately for her argument, 30 years ago we had what is still arguably the best cartoon Batman series ever, Batman the animated series. It took it's two dimensional animated characters and gave them three dimensional personalities. 30 years later it's still hailed as brilliant.

And I think that's why Classic Loki and GotG can take utterly ridiculous characters (let's face it, all superheroes are ridiculous to some extent) but while some even acknowledge how silly their comic book heroes are, they actually take the characters, the story, and the issues raised seriously.

Yes, Classic Loki looks like a joke, but he's never viewed as one from the crew's perspective.

Alligator Loki is even more preposterous! Who even made his horns, and who puts them on for him? But while the show acknowledges how silly he is with our Loki's questioning, he's a Loki and everyone treats him as a Loki. Yes, he injects some comic relief, but the laughter is never at his expense. He's even shown to be able to hold his own in a fight.

Rocket is a talking raccoon, but he's never laughed at. In fact he's even pitied once you learn what happened to make him that way. He's ridiculous, but he's not a joke. And yes, he makes jokes about how ridiculous they all are (bunch of jackasses standing in a circle) but while a comedic character, the joke is not on him. He's a fully formed, well rounded character. We care about him.

Yes, Star Lord is an idiot at times too, but his heart is in the right place and he wants to do the right thing. So you think he's gone mad when he has a dance off with the villain, but you quickly realise he's being an idiot for a very good reason and is playing to his strengths (and using idiocy as a strength is clever). I think we also understand, because he's a fully formed character, than his humour is a defence mechanism. He plays the fool because that's the niche he's carved for himself to help him cope, but that doesn't mean he is a fool.

Ragnarok wanted to be GotG, but Taiks forgot the part about while it's ridiculous and fanciful, the characters aren't a joke.

To Taika, if it doesn't get a laugh, it's not important. The few serious or touching moments we get are as a result of the MCU bigwigs forcing changes in reshoots, or forcing Taika to stick to the script.

There are no character arcs. You could argue that Loki goes from villain to hero or anti-hero, but he's already been through that journey in Dark World. Why did he regress? Who cares, it's not funny, he's just a bad guy again, forget about the plot holes and just laugh at the guy being killed smelling like toast!

Thor turning away from his father's teachings, like T'Challa did, would have been a wonderful character arc. Seeing his dad, realising his dad was wrong that and he needs to do better, and calling on his own inner strength to protect his people. That would have been a fulfilling arc. Instead he still needs advice from his colonising, slaver father. And this is actually one of the few scenes that wasn't played for laughs. It had so much potential, yet Taika just didn't care enough to reach for it.

Ragnarok is a road runner movie where our heroes toss a series of ACME anvils and dynamite at each other and the bad guys, but like the RR cartoon, there are no consequences. Just like Wile.E, they get straight back up again and lob another anvil at someone.

Hulk has been murdering innocent slaves for quite a while now, but he doesn't care. You'd think Bruce Banner might care about what his alter ego has been up to but no, this good, gentle, introspective, intelligent and caring man doesn't give one single fuck, because it's ACME Hulk and murdering innocent slaves has as many consequences as crushing them with an ACME anvil.

And I think that's the difference. Yes, your characters can be utterly ridiculous, but the crew must take them seriously and make them fully rounded characters who face consequences. Consequences are how we learn and grow.

And if they don't take the movie or characters seriously, you end up with a 2 dimensional story that no one cares about, because you haven't given them a reason to.

I don't care why Wile.E is trying to kill RR. I don't care what his motivation is. I don't care when he gets squashed or blown up, or falls off a cliff, because he's not a character, he's a caricature.

Ragnarok is just a collection of caricatures.

#thor ragnarok #MCU #gagnarok #loki series #Classic loki #old man loki #alligator loki #guardians of the galaxy #peter quill #rocket #nebula #black panther #gotg #gotg 2

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oldsmobile-hotdogs · 3 years

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Willex + ⛵️💍💫

ohoho bestie i had fun with this (also it’s almost 2k oops lol)

it’s also available on ao3!

may i present to you:

Two Ghosts... Having a Date on a Stolen Boat... They Might Kiss...

Alex had to admit: even for Willie, this act of delinquency was a lot.

When he’d first floated the idea of joyriding a sailboat under cover of night to Alex, albeit somewhat casually and hypothetically as they strolled along the pier during a mild June afternoon, Alex had gone along jokingly in that way you do when a friend asks who’d be eaten first if the whole group were trapped on a desert island.

But then Willie had brought it up again on their next- Date? Outing? Meeting?

(Alex was vehemently avoiding putting labels on their spending time together, just in case Willie were to put a different one on it to the one he ascribed it.)

And then on their next, next… hanging-out session… Willie had mooted a date for the grand theft boat and didn’t phrase it much like a question. And then he’d gently pointed out when the sailing class stopped for the night on said date: a Sunday, no less, so it closed before the sun even got close to setting, meaning anyone inside the little shed where they stored the paperwork and lifejackets would certainly be gone by the evening.

This wasn’t accounting for how objectively shocked Alex had been to learn that Willie knew how to sail, of all things. He knew Willie knew how to skate, though that was hard to miss, and he knew Willie had mentioned he used to surf a little when he was alive, but as far as Alex was aware, and he was sorting through all of their conversations just to be sure that he was sure, Willie had never mentioned he could sail.

In retrospect, that could have largely been because he couldn’t, strictly speaking. Alex had watched on in a strange mix of awe and terror as Willie had untied a small sailboat that lent itself easily to being pitied, if he was honest- all chipping paint and scuffs on the body and sunbleached sails- from its docking, and then suddenly he'd been yanked onto the vessel by his arm and made to crouch just behind Willie, close enough for the wind kicking up to whip his hair occasionally in Alex's face, and then Willie had knelt behind the sails and done something, Alex couldn't be sure what, that meant they were off. It was pleasant at first, which had surprised him immensely. Initially they were travelling relatively slowly, but still smoothly, not too far out from the shore, and the longer the joyride had lasted at this pace, the closer Alex had been to letting himself relax.

But then it had very quickly become apparent that Willie was somewhat out of his element: not majorly- he'd probably taken a few classes in a summer, maybe- but enough that he had psyched himself out. And whenever Willie felt psyched out, he turned reckless. Well, more reckless.

Despite the fact that he was a ghost, which meant that even if they had capsized they would have both been able to breathe, and that even if they had crashed no one would have been hurt and it would be physically impossible for the crime to come back to them, Alex had found himself with a white-knuckled grip on either side of the boat as it had picked up speed almost exponentially and began coasting erratically from side to side, the sail changing direction so obviously and violently that even an absolute novice, which Alex was, could have seen that something was wrong.

'You alright up there?' Alex had asked, even though "up there" was about four inches from his face.

'Yeah, I'm just- hold on-' And then Willie had let go of the tiller, which had filled Alex with the fear of God for a good six seconds, before rolling his shoulders back, shaking out his hands, exhaling a quick breath through his mouth and grasping it again. Willie must have gotten himself out of his Beserker state in that time because the boat had then begun moving in a relatively straight line again and, after a little while, had eased itself back down to a manageable speed. Alex would have to ask about that coping mechanism when he got the chance.

After what felt like maybe ten more minutes of sailing lightly around, but may have been quite a bit more, spent mostly in comfortable silence, Willie had pulled clumsily back into where the boat had previously been docked and Alex had clambered out from the little space he had been guided to originally and had remained in the entire joyride, tying the rope back around the little wooden pole that tethered it to the beach. Sailors' knots Alex could do. He'd been so afraid of getting lost in the woods one spring when he was a child, although an opportunity had never presented itself for him to go into the woods, that he'd read a Boy Scouts handbook cover to cover to the point where, even now, if he closed his eyes, he could see the passage on how to sterilise river water laid out in front of him.

'When you're done come back onto the boat. I wanna sit here for a little bit.'

Alex had looked up from his handiwork to meet Willie's gaze. His eyes had been bright, filled with the leftover mischief from their escapade, and a soft smile which had made Alex wonder if Willie had something else up his sleeve had played on his lips.

'Okay, yeah, I'll be back in a second,' he had replied, leaning down one last time to tighten the knot in the right places.

Willie had genuinely expected Alex to tell him to stop at some point, but the more Alex had gone along with what was originally at least partially a joke, the more Willie had wanted to see if he could actualise what had previously only ever been a poorly planned pipe dream. When everything started more or less crashing down around them, however, and their outing previously slated as some dangerous, blockbuster-level adventure had fizzled out into the anticlimax of the season, Willie couldn't help but worry that he had done something to threaten what the two had going for them, which would be poor timing, considering.

Now sitting sideways on the boat together, ghost legs phasing into the shallow water below, hands in touching distance if one of them just worked up the courage to splay their pinky finger a little more, Willie was getting nervous. A little giddy, too, at the possibility of this going right, but mostly nervous.

'Alex?' he began, a little embarrassed, though he knew that was needlessly so, at how his voice hiked in pitch from the nerves.

'Yeah?' Alex responded, his eyes suddenly fixed on him. Willie felt his face grow warm at this, and hoped the relative darkness afforded him some ability to hide the blush he knew was developing.

An added problem was that now Willie had no idea what to say next. He was great at listening to people divulge their emotions, sure, but he always struggled a little with expressing his own, preferring to offer solutions to the other people in his life's struggles and pretend like his own feelings weren't always too close to overflowing for comfort. Willie was suddenly hit with the overwhelming urge to backtrack as quickly as was humanly possible.

'No, never mind, actually. It's not important.' Willie attempted to sound casual, but was unsure of how successfully it actually came off.

'Well, see, now I definitely wanna hear what you had to say,' Alex retorted jokingly.

‘No, it’s stupid. Really.’

‘No, it’s not,’ Alex was now looking Willie pointedly in the eyes. ‘I don’t think you’ve said a stupid thing ever-’ Willie opened his mouth, ready to counter him- ‘Not when it counts.’

And it’s not like that admission of blind faith in Willie made the next words out of his mouth any easier, but they were now propelled from hiding by an added energy that wasn’t there before.

‘Okay, so I went to Tokyo a few weeks back-’

‘You- ...okay.’ It was obvious that this anecdote would have Alex wanting to throw himself into one of his crises about the afterlife and ghost powers and the limitations of poofing, but he was, so far, very valiantly, in Willie’s opinion, holding back. ‘You’ll have to tell me about that later.’

Willie couldn’t help but giggle at how resigned Alex sounded. ‘Oh, I will, hotdog, don’t worry.’

'Anyway,' Willie began again, more confident now that the conversation had taken on some humour. 'So I went to Tokyo, and I was walking down a street with a bunch of vendor stalls, and I saw this one stall and I, uh.' He paused a little, taking a few gentle breaths to build up the courage necessary to continue. 'I remembered my Mom telling me about these, uh, these rings.' Willie could almost feel Alex's eyes widen as he drew out the small, purple pouch that kept them safe from his hoodie pocket. He rushed to clarify. 'They're not- it's not a big thing in Japan. They're not like promise rings.' Alex audibly exhaled. 'Yeah, don't- I wouldn't... spring that on you.'

'No, yeah, I didn't... think you would.'

A silence came over them, uncharacteristicallly awkward, and Willie felt a little hopeless to save the moment.

Eventually, it was Alex who broke it. 'So, these rings?'

'Yeah,' Willie quickly responded. 'I stole them.' Alex chuckled under his breath. 'They're called couple rings, and people- well, couples- they buy them to mark the fact that they're- well, that they're couples.'

'Seems simple enough,' Alex joked, evidently warming to the idea.

'Oh yeah, very simple.' Willie could feel a smile spreading across his face. 'And there's no implication that you're gonna, like, do anything else later on either, which I like because, I mean, we're ghosts.' He gestured at how their legs became translucent where they dangled into the water. 'And that's probably already enough thinking about "forever" on its own, without the added pressure of any big promises.'

'Yeah, I agree.' Alex let out a sigh.

There was a beat of quiet before Willie continued.

'But obviously actually seeing them and putting them on is the main event, so I'm going to get them out of the pouch now, finally,' he joked, pulling open the hole in the top and lightly shaking two thin, silver bands out onto his hand. He then placed them gently onto the edge of the boat, and turned them so that Alex could see clearly what they looked like, or as clearly as was possible at this time of night.

'They've both got this line engraved in them almost the whole way 'round, and then one has a star stamped into it, and the other has a moon,' Willie explained, the nerves returning now that his gift was out in the open.

'I can see that,' Alex responded breathily, leaning a little closer to the rings. 'Willie, these are- they're beautiful. Thank you.'

'I thought you could be the star,' Willie suggested, the arm of his that was further away from Alex reaching up to rub at his neck, lightly avoiding how to respond to Alex's gratitude.

'Okay.'

Gingerly, Willie closed the gap between their hands and slipped the band onto Alex's ring finger, and then donned his own. Neither of them spoke for a little while, both stunned into silence and afraid to break this air of closeness they'd achieved. Once again, Alex was the first to move.

'So, this definitely means we're dating, right?'

Willie flung himself backwards into the hull of the ship, his hair somewhat cushioning his head as he landed, his legs sticking up over the top, now opaque. 'Ugh. Yes, hotdog, we're dating,' he called back up in fake annoyance.

'Cool, just checking,' Alex called back.

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rantingcrocodile · 2 years

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what do you think of jokes about really tragic events? I'm talking 9/11, auschwitz, native American genocide, witch trials kind of events. Idk what to feel about them. People who joke about them typically get pissed off and claim whoever objects is a fragile snowflake, but also what kind of psychopath do you have to be to make a joke, something that is supposed to bring humor, about something so dark and horrible?

This is a very tricky subject because it relies heavily on both context and (more importantly) intent.

The thing about humour is that, aside from the light kinds of jokes and plays-on-words, humour also exists to take the sting out of the darkness. To laugh about something is to remove the pain of it, to pull it out of the darkness and into the light, exposing the truth for what it is.

That's one thing that I enjoy about British humour. For example, there was an incredibly popular British comedy series called Goodness Gracious Me, and they had sketches like this:

youtube

As British Asians, they created the "Cooper" (actually Kapoor) and "Robinson" (actually Rabindranath) couples (as an example above), to poke fun at the desperation to be assimilated as English. In those sketches, the writers (also two of the actors) went to extreme lengths to show how ridiculous it was for those characters to attempt to be seen as white British.

If you were to look at it coldly without the context, the idea of poking fun at that clear racism, at the trauma of forced assimilation, then that should, in theory, be a taboo. Instead, it's genuinely funny. Meera Syall and Sanjeev Bhaskar are hilarious writers, and the above really does take the pain and the experiences that they and their communities have to take the sting out of it, along with the underlying message of don't feel like you have to be like this, be yourself and screw the racists.

But that brings us back to intent. There is absolutely no malice in the above. The victims of the sketch aren't British Asians in general. It's a mockery of individual characters as a vehicle to attack the issues behind what's being portrayed. That's a world away from a racist deciding to make jokes about British Asians because the racist hates them and wants to belittle them.

The darkest jokes are something else.

(Warning for a sketch about anti-black racism and the use of a racial slur.)

youtube

This is from Not The Nine O'Clock News, another British show from back in the 1980s.

For those that can't watch, it starts with Constable Savage being reprimanded by his superior for bringing up ridiculous charges. He's made arrests for "stepping on the cracks in the pavement." Hilarious! That police officer is absurd! Until his superior then says that those 100+ bogus charges are all against the same man. Cue more laughs! The harassed man is revealed to be a black man, and it's clear that the stupid Savage is an obsessed racist. His superior berates him for being racist and for making the police look bad. The superior states that Savage is not welcome in the police, and there's no option but...

To transfer Savage to the SPG, otherwise known as the Special Patrol Group, a London-based sub-section of the police that was notoriously violent and racist.

Is that a horrifically dark sketch? Yes. Did it include racism? Yes. But it was also a jab at how racist the police was, where racism was condemned in it, underlining the seriousness of racism and how untrustworthy the police was, even when the police claimed to care. That wasn't a deliberate attack against the black community, even though we can look back at it now, forty years later, and see that the terms used were wrong and the writing clumsy. It comes back down to intent, yet again.

It also depends on the audience.

Some people will use dark humour as a coping mechanism, telling dark jokes about themselves or their own group with other members of their own group or trusted friends and family members to take the sting out of their own oppression. Others would be triggered and damaged hearing those jokes.

If someone isn't comfortable with jokes like that, then whether they're a member of the same group or not, their wishes should always be paramount to make sure that they're protected and kept safe from harm.

The issue with humour, including dark jokes, is when it comes from people from a place of privilege, where those jokes are nothing but attacks and abuse towards others, especially the oppressed, who tell those jokes gleefully because they come from a place of bigotry and hatred.

The bottom line is to be kind and sensitive to others and their feelings. It isn't "oppressive" to say, "keep those jokes to yourself if you'd otherwise upset someone." The jokes are supposed to be funny, not hurtful.

As for the people that call others "snowflakes"? You can guarantee that they'd also be the same people who would get their pitchforks ready if you joked about something that offended them.

#crocodilian answers #I hope this answer makes sense! <3

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shihozaki · 3 years

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Hi I heard your did matchups? Can you do one for me from mha and give me a quirk if you want....

Looks:

5'3 (short I know 😭) tan skin with freckles spread across the tops of my cheeks. I also have dimples under my eyes but I got made fun of because they were usually on the bottoms of people's cheeks in 4th grade.

Im pretty busty in the chest area which I hate because boys would always make weird comments. I also have a birthmark on the back of my thigh.

Short black hair and dark brown eyes.

Personality:

Im pretty childish. I tend to have bursts of energy. But I can be calm when needed. I'm pretty sure I have ADD 😅 cuz sometimes I have a hard time paying attention. I can also be very responsible because I have four younger siblings. I tend to use humor as a coping mechanism because I don't have a good relationship with either of my parents because my mom was abusive and my dad left me when I was 7 months old. I'm not keen on physical affection unless I'm the one giving it. I won't sugarcoat things if you want my honest opinion I'm going to give you my honest opinion whether you like it or not because I want you to be your best self. I am VERY protective of my friends. Like the " I'll fight anyone who messes with you" protective. I am a dark empath meaning I'll have empathy for you if I care for you but if you cross me then I will lose ALL empathy for you. I also get really nervous around men because I was sexually assaulted a lot when I was younger....

Random facts and things I like:

Im Latin American. My astrology sign is Virgo. My top three Kins are Todoroki, JD from Heather's, and Bakugo. My favorite food is egg rolls and my favorite dessert is raspberry cheesecake. My favorite movies are The Shining, Heather's, and Alice in Wonderland. I enjoy things like reading, witchcraft, writing, scary stories, and listening to music. Don't judge me but my top two idols are Marilyn Monroe and Tiffany Valentine from Chucky 😅

Do what you can and don't rush yourself ❤

Thank you for waiting! This time I chose a character who isn’t shown in the anime too much- but I thought he would be perfect for you! (I hope it was okay that the person was a male- you didn’t specify what gender!) I hope you enjoy it.

I pair you up with Tensei Iida!

- Your quirk is Lie-detector! You can tell if a person is lying. You can detect their heartbeat, blood pressure, changes in a person's breathing, and sweating. It could be used for more than lie detecting, perhaps a medical usage, too. It’s not exactly a hero quirk- but it’s helpful in everyday life.

- You first met Tensei when he saved you from a villain attack. When he saw that you were nervous, he tried to comfort you, and you guys became good friends after that

- He found himself patrolling around your area a lot, hoping to see you again, and when he did, he asked you for your number, not wanting to miss his chance

- It took a bit of time for you to warm up to him completely- but it was so worth it. He was respectful of your boundaries and never made you feel uncomfortable or pressured

- He adores you and finds you adorable. He loves everything you do- even your little daze offs.

- He understands that you use humour as coping, and he doesn’t stop you. But he does get worried sometimes. He wants you to have the best life and let go of the past

- He loves counting your freckles and your dimples- you don't understand how much this man cherishes you :)

- When he got his injury from Stain, you were devastated. You asked him if he was okay, and he replied with yes- but your quirk detected a lie. You guys had a long talk after that, both of you finding comfort from each other

- You got very angry at the villain and it was the first time Tensei had ever seen you so mad. He calmed you down while laughing. Did I mention his laugh is one of the best things ever?

- He knows you don’t enjoy physical affection, and he totally understands. He instead shows you how much he loves you by spending time with you and reminding you every day that he loves you

- Overall you guys have a very trusting relationship where you find comfort from each other and show each other the beauty of true love:)

Scenario: Visiting him after the stain injury!

“Tensei!” You ran up to the bed, Your boyfriend opening his eyes at your voice. “(Y/N), I’m glad you’re safe.” He said. You shook your head. Tensei was always so kind. Too kind. “Don’t worry about me- worry about yourself. Do you know how worried I was?” You shouted. It was frustrating how Tensei was giving you a pained smile. Your hand made its way to his cheeks, giving it a small stroke. His face leaned into your touch, giving it a small kiss before letting you pull away. “I’m sorry for making you worry.” He whispered. “I’m okay.” Lie. That was a lie. “You can’t lie to me, Tensei.” You replied. Tensei laughed. “I’ll be okay, then. I’ll feel better after a nap.” You nodded. You were mad- really mad. “I swear I’m going to murder that hero killer.” You muttered, gripping your hands. Tensei smiled. “Sure you will.” “I’m serious! Who does he think he is, trying to mess with my boyfriend?” You yelled out, earning a chuckle from your boyfriend. He felt better now that your energetic self was here. “I love you.” Blurted Tensei. You froze, amused at the sudden remark. Truth. That was a truth. You smiled. “I love you too.”

Song: Odysseus Under The Old Tree by Koan!

Sorry if the scenario was a bit over the place, I hope I got your personality right. Please do not hesitate to comment about the work, and I hope to see you again soon :)))

#anime fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #tensei iida #bnha matchup #bnha fanfiction #matchups #mha matchup #matchups open #x reader

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flowerspecial · 4 years

Text

You Are Dirty Minded But Inexperienced

So JB can be quite dirty minded himself, so he wouldn't mind the odd comment here and there. But if you were over the top, and like turned everything innocent into a dirty joke, JB would be very concerned for you. Especially because you are inexperienced yourself, JB would definitely ask where you kinda found all of this information. And he will definitely ask if you are using this as a deflection to not owning up to your own experiences. Some people like to use dark humour as a coping mechanism, so maybe JB would think that you are insecure about it, and that's why you make dirty jokes.

Mark

Again Mark would be so confused about why you are so dirty minded. Especially if you made these kinds of jokes around other people. Like just around Mark it's fine, but if you make these jokes around other people, Mark will worry that other people are kinda getting this idea in their heads about your relationship which is just not correct. Mark will definitely try to pry into why you are so dirty minded, and like who you have been hanging out with because clearly they are not a very good influence on you. Mark will definitely ask you if this is something you want to talk about.

Jackson

Jackson will definitely doubt if you are actually as inexperienced as you said you are! Like are you sure that you have never been in a relationship or done anything sexual, it sure seems like you know a lot about the subject? Jackson will definitely think the things you say are a bit crazy, like sweetheart are you going to calm down slightly? Jackson will tease you though about the things you are saying, and he will constantly insinuate that maybe this is what you are going to be like when you two do get sexual. But have faith that in no way is he going to force you! Jackson will wait as long as necessary.

Jinyoung

Oh hell no, Jinyoung is dirty minded but he is not the type to make jokes. Like he is all for dirty talk in the moment, but definitely not making sexual jokes! He is way too conservative freaky for that! In the sheets, he is all systems go, in the streets however he is a model gentleman. So the fact that you make so many dirty jokes will definitely make Jinyoung uncomfortable. He wants to keep the sexual talk behind closed doors and between the two of you. Jinyoung will definitely tell you to stop talking, and he will use that dominating voice that will make your legs quiver. So be prepared for the consequences if you carry on!

Youngjae

This is the quickest way to make Youngjae blush, without a shadow of a doubt. Youngjae is just not dirty minded, and if he is, then it is deeply hidden inside him. So the fact that you are so dirty minded would really shock Youngjae. You know when someone feels uncomfortable but finds what the other person is saying quite funny so they don't tell them to shut up? Well that's Youngjae with you, every single dirty comment you make. Youngjae just kinda wishes that you would keep your comments between you and him, because when you say something near his friends he will definitely get embarrassed.

Bambam

You and Bambam are actually a disastrous pair, god help every single person around you two. Bambam is hella dirty minded too, so he is really not gonna be shocked that you too are dirty minded. Seriously the things that you and him say should not be repeated by anyone! Bambam might find it teasing that you are inexperienced yet are very dirty minded, because he will kinda see it as a little preview into your future sex life. However, Bambam is gonna respect your boundaries, and he’ll never push you into a situation you don't want to be in. Honestly though, the things you two say are not PG13 in the slightest!

Yugyeom

Yugyeom will definitely not be against your dirty mind, and he will find it funny! But Yugyeom will definitely want you to be careful about who you say it around. At the end of the day, Yugyeom is the youngest, and he really needs to be careful about what he says to his older friends. At the end of the day, your partner is a reflection of you so Yugyeom wants both of you to be in the best light. Obviously if the conversation goes there, Yugyeom isn't going to censor you, but it's more just if the joke isn't called for then maybe keep it to yourself. But at home, Yugyeom is giving you full reign.

#got7 #got7 imagines #got7 reactions #got7 scenarios #got7 blurbs #got7 imagine

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oftincturedwords · 3 years

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First of all: I'm currently listening to the songs you added to the descriptions of Steven and Bucky and I LOVE 'em!

I would ask for Doc Roe/Legolas/Dr. McCoy, whoever you most feel like describing!

(I hope you and your stitched up hand are doing well!)

send me a character and i’ll list: ACCEPTING !

DOC EUGENE ROE <3

favourite thing about them : doc roe is another top tier favourite character of mine so i everything about him is my favourite <3 but i won't cheat & just say everything agdjfkglg so to give a specific thing , i love how roe will do everything he can to help the wounded. from running out amidst a firefight / bombings to get to them & get them out to telling off superior officers to sacrificing pieces of himself to ensure he can do his job the best he can. his dedication to that is on par to lipton & winters i feel. he was right there during the absolute worst bits of some of these men's lives , working not only to patch up their bodies but to keep them calm , talking to them & using their nicknames whenever they're wounded so those hurt know they’re in good hands & with a friend , whether they make it to aid station or not. i admire roe for that , in giving his all for the wounded & not letting anything get in his way for advocating for a patient or ensuring his patients know he's treating a man with personality & life back home rather than another number of men on sick call / list of the wounded.

least favourite thing about them : what is not to like about this man ??? agdjfkglg but seriously , the only thing i can think of would be his decision to draw away from everyone during the time in bastogne & become isolated , but honestly i can't blame him for using that coping mechanism with everything that was going on then. but he may have had an easier time of it if he didn't resist heffron’s attempts at friendships & perhaps opened up somewhat to spina , even if spina is a lower rank than him , but roe is the sort to help others before himself & continue to do so until he's used up. he's rather self sacrificing like that & that's not healthy. but again it was 1940’s so they didn't have much concept of mental health help or understanding in ways that we do today & even still today it's stigmatised so i can too see why he wouldn't be openly talking , just wish he perhaps think he had to separate himself from everyone , to create distance & choose his job as a medic over creating those tight-knit friendships as everyone else did.

favourite line : “You are officers, you are grownups. You ought to know!”

brOTP : roe & spina , roe & heffron , roe & luz , roe & malarkey

OTP : roe / heffron

nOTP : roe / winters , only because winters needs nixon & vice versa

random headcanon : back during training , a group from easy company were swapping scary stories they’d been told from where their from or ones their parents shared with them , there's all sorts being told & some overlays , but somehow they convince doc to tell one , so he tells the one of the rougarou & with his low way of speaking & lilting tone he manages to be a good story teller , he’s most likely imitating how his grandparents on his mother’s side told him it. he’s one of the only guys out of three ( luz & malarkey are the other ) to actually get everyone a bit spooked. not scared but it's definitely difficult to not think of it when a few days later they have an exercise that has them out in the swamps of north carolina

unpopular opinion : erm i’m not certain that i have any unpopular opinions on roe , hmm i don't think that i do , but if i think of one i'll come back to fil this out

song i associate with them : oats in the water by ben howard or the humbling river by puscifer

favourite picture of them :

send me a character and i’ll list:

LEGOLAS <3 ( books / films )

favourite thing about them : another top tier favourite character of mine , i think you managed to pick every single ultimate favourite character in these fandoms xD that's very cool ! but back to the favourite , hmm i admire legolas’ ability to still find joy & happiness in the world even though his home has been besieged by darkness’ taint , & losses he's faced as well as the fight he's had to keep along with the rest of elves there. even during trials of the quest he was usually light & could find something to smile about. he has a lightness to him. yet he doesn't allow him to not see the reality of the situation or the quests’ weight , he is very grounded whilst being able to see the brightness that still lives in arda. he can sing , laugh , smile , & find humour even in dark times without seeming like he's clueless or ignorant or careless.

least favourite thing about them : i really don't like his characterisation in the hobbit films , but that's more due to writing than the actual character. i guess i would say least favourite hmm his prejudice against the dwarves , like i don't the elves have their sides & reasons just as the dwarves have theirs , but he really should go find it out for himself instead of just believing a long steeped prejudice & dislike. ( this is excluding the events of the hobbit films )

favourite line : “I go to find the sun!” or “How about side by side with a friend?”

brOTP : legolas & aragorn , legolas & gimli , legolas & elladan & elrohir , legolas & tauriel , legolas & faramir

OTP : legolas / gimli , although i see legolas as more asexual than anything

nOTP : legolas / éowyn , i love éowyn with faramir too much to ship this , so it's not that i hate it , just it isn't a favourite

random headcanon : legolas knows how to use a leaf as a musical instrument , by pressing it between their fingers & then bringing it to their lips to esstentially whistle against it , as do several in his patrol , during moments of downtime they try to play tunes on it & judge each other on how well it sounds or just laugh at the attempts or guess which song is being playing ( or trying to be played )

unpopular opinion : i think my unpopular opinion is in the fact i see legolas as aromantic asexual , tolkien never says that legolas gets married or has someone waiting for him back home , nor do i see he & gimli as anything more than friends. do i like the gigolas ship ? yes ! is it my canon when writing those two ? no.

song i associate with them : i love to see the wheels in motion by barry phillips or fear no darkness by adrian von ziegler or flight of the silverbird by two steps from hell

favourite picture of them :

send me a character and i’ll list:

LEONARD MCCOY <3 ( tos / aos )

favourite thing about them : his dedication to his patients & profession , he will tell off the highest of admirals if it’d help his patient & he'd risk his own life / safety ensure a patient was helped like when he tended to mirror!spock’s injuries or when he stepped in to alter the course of the kal-if-fee to save both spock & kirk , no doubt he got into some legal issue with vulcan on that one. too i admire his ability to remain calm , cool , & collected under any circumstance. like when khan threatened him with a knife to treating the horta to learning he had xenopolycythemia to tending crew members he's come to know as friends & even family.

least favourite thing about them : i don't really like some of his xenophobic comments to spock , especially in tos , i know it transforms more into a banter / teasing thing between him & spock later in their friendship , but it doesn't fit his character to be the sort to try to change someone's ways to prove a point or think humans are better because we express our emotions. i know he's a gruff doctor who speaks his mind , but it just let very off with his character to have him say those things with actual meaning & intent

favourite line : “When the personality of a human is involved, exact predictions are hazardous."

brOTP : mccoy & kirk , mccoy & spock , mccoy & scott , mccoy & uhura

OTP : mccoy / kirk

nOTP : mccoy / chapel , nothing against it , it just isn't my favourite pairing , i much prefer chapel with rand more than anything

random headcanon : his fear of transporters actually comes from an accident he & some of his childhood friends had with a transporter , it all turned out fine in the end but it always left mccoy feeling a bit weird round them , then in school he learnt about all the transporter incidents / injuries that had happened & it just increased his dislike , not to mention when he got to medical school in seeing some of those sort of injuries first hand , & just being on the enterprise with all her transporter incidents it just keep piling onto it , although it means he's picked up some very good ways of coping with it , some good some not. i think that's why he's especially cranky when it comes to transports because he's nervous to hell & back so instead of being anxious , he just gets angry.

unpopular opinion : hmm again i'm sure if i have an unpopular opinion for mccoy … i can't think of any

song i associate with them : far too good by john smith , feels like home by sam tinnesz

favourite picture of them :

#snidgethex #answered asks #character asks #i'm so happy you loved the songs for steve & bucky !! <33 that makes me happy to hear ! <33 thank you !#&& thank you so much for sending this in !! <3 #i decided to answer all three ^^' i hope that was allright ; you managed to name three top favourite characters of mine & i couldn't resist #& thank you for the well wishes <33 i too hope you're doing well & that your days are kind to you <3

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bastillewolf · 4 years

Text

Midnight In Sheffield (VI)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: When a soon-to-be-wedded insomniac author heads back home to visit her parents, she comes across the likes of a mysterious musician whilst on her sleepless escapade in the AM.

Notes: I just don’t understand how Mark is getting so much hate??? Absolutely adore the man, so much fun to write problematic characters. But seriously, he needs to check his inbox, because I think multiple death threats have been sent already. Love you lot!

Sorry this took me so long, by the way. I had to rewrite it because the first draft was shit. And I think I’m just gonna throw the uploading schedule out the window, because it’s not fun that way for me anymore. I want writing to still be something I can find relief in, not stress.

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

Song recommendations: Dance Little Liar by Arctic Monkeys, or A Tragic Fate from the Professor Layton soundtrack

Chapter VI - Mad Sounds

When she was younger, her parents were thinking about divorcing. And that’s really something to deal with at such a young age. So, she found solace in the only things her mum had lying around; books.

Books had been the only reliable thing in her entire life. The words were solid on paper, the storyline was set, and it had an end and a beginning. Nothing she had to go through; she only had to be a spectator from above, able to criticise people for the mistakes they made and commend heroes for their virtuous adventures.

It’s why she would describe her life to be something of a book. However, it was a story that seemed to have no ending. An intricate plotline that just kept on going, daring her to just mark the page and close the cover on it whenever she was getting sick of it. To just leave those heavy chapters weighing her down behind her, never to look back.

She felt like she was only at the middle of the story, where things should be going easier, because she could just leave her book open without the pages turning on their own because of the stiffness of the brand-new cover.

She had it all, really; though sometimes still in doubt, her parents were together, she had a man she could rely on who she would marry, and a nice apartment to get back to.

She barely felt the raindrops touching her face, as her entire body appeared to be numb.

She stood there, in front of the restaurant, for what seemed like ages, until the bells of the church struck eleven, and she was still unsure of why she was unable to move any of her limbs.

Warm hands touched her arms, comfortable, yet firm. They must have noticed how cold she was getting, because they draped a dark jacket over her shoulders. “You’re shivering,” she vaguely heard, “Let’s get you somewhere warm, shall we?”

She nodded, the events of the evening finally playing back all over again. Her stomach felt heavy, and her heart was beating at a faster rate than it usually was. “Do you think he’ll come back?” she muttered.

Brown eyes swept over her, and a chill went down her spine. She couldn’t tell what they were thinking; she only saw a calculated determination to make sure she was okay. “I don’t know,” he replied honestly, “But I know he wouldn’t want you to have caught something by the time he gets back.”

She barely gave a nod of her head, which was enough indication for Alex to tuck her under his arm, and walk her through the empty streets of a rainy Sheffield. At the very least, the downpour would hide the fact that hot tears were silently slipping down her face.

She must’ve looked like a real mess; standing shivering in a soaked wet dress in front of a brick building, tucked tightly between other brick buildings, as Alex fumbled with his keys. Once finally catching his bearings, he was able to twist the lock open, and push back the door that were adorned with gleaming golden numbers reading ‘505’.

It was a shared complex, with an apartment downstairs and one up, which was Alex’ place.

She shouldn’t have been surprised, really, but the home was quite cosy, most likely because of it’s size, and if she had to describe its contents in a few words, they would be ‘retro simplicity’.

Brown leather couches which looked very well worn made up most of the living room, along with a radio that sat upon a wooden cabinet stashed with liquor of all sorts. One of the walls was almost entirely covered by built-in shelves, holding many books and records alike, but leaving just enough room to be able to open the door on that very same wall.

The radio was still softly playing old tunes, with hints of soul and jazz. The rain tapping against the windows had almost drowned the sound out completely, if she hadn’t been standing so close to it. Alex turned up the volume a tad.

“I recognize that song,” she said, “my mum used to play it a lot when my grandmother passed away. It was her favourite song.”

“She had good taste,” he replied with a friendly crook of his mouth. He staggered off to the kitchen, and she heard him put the kettle on as she hesitantly took a seat on one of the large sofa’s. If it hadn’t been leather, she wouldn’t have even dared to step close to them.

“I know it’s not much. But it’s home.” He handed her a steaming cup, and almost simultaneously drew a blanket over her lap. He suddenly paused, and glanced up at her, “I’m sorry, I just assumed you took milk and sugar.”

She shook her head, “That’s the way I like it.”

He hummed, and sat down in front of her on the coffee table.

“I should apologize,” he said.

She gave him a questioning look, inviting him to explain.

“I crossed the line with the way I was acting back at the restaurant. I was being a total arse, and quite possibly just ruined any chance of maybe remaining in touch with you altogether. I’d understand you wouldn’t want me to come to your wedding. Hell, you barely even know me.”

Her gaze didn’t waver from his, as she took a moment to think. “For some reason, I feel like I’ve known you all my life. I can’t say I’ve ever met someone who I was able to talk so freely with from the get-go, and I can only say that it sort of frightens me.”

“Why?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

“I suppose you can understand that it might seem quite odd to my fiancée that I’m parading about town with another man in the middle of the night, one I met only a few evenings before at that.”

He gave her a look. “That’s not what I was asking.”

“Why were you being an ass towards Mark?” she continued, decidedly avoiding the question.

He hesitated, his hands gripping the edges of the table a bit tighter, as if they kept him from falling over or summat. “Annoyance. Jealousy, perhaps.”

“Jealousy?”

He huffed, “Don’t tell me you didn’t quite figure that out yet. You’re a writer. I see someone being lousy towards a pretty girl, or anyone just around a pretty girl, for that matter, when I know they could be doing so much better. It bothers me.”

“So I’m just a pretty girl?”

“What would you want me to think of you as, then?”

He got her there. But she wasn’t yet willing to let it all go. “And what would be so much better for me? You? You barely even know me, perhaps I’m a horrible person. Perhaps Mark is the one that could do so much better.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. But I didn’t see you walking away from an argument.”

She stiffened slightly in her seat, thinking back on all other times they had had a fight. “Mark is just… he needs to cool down. It’s just his way of handling things, and I can only respect that.”

“And what happens when he doesn’t cool down?” he daringly asked.

This time, the look she gave him was a clear warning. He had indeed crossed boundaries tonight, more so than what should even be considered okay if they had been close friends. But they weren’t, and she was starting to take notice of the fact that she was quite easily giving her trust to this man.

“I can honestly say, and smack me across the face if you must, but after that brief meeting we had, I knew you shouldn’t marry him. You don’t fit together, and that’s not because of your lack of trying or incapacity to agree on certain things, but it’s because I can tell that there’s something going on between you that you don’t want to talk about.”

She didn’t slap him. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It was as if he had smacked her across the face with a harsh reality she had been trying to hide. And only then did something she had been wondering since the moment she met him cross her mind once more.

“You’re…” Yes, that must be it. “No, never mind.”

He shook his head, “Humour me.”

“Don’t start laughing at me.”

“I never would.”

She got off the couch, and strode across the room with a sudden surge of energy she hadn’t been sure could still muster up before. She looked out across the window, over the smoking chimneys of old Sheffield, and it was as if everything just clicked in her mind.

“You’re… You’re not real, are you?”

He didn’t respond, but she didn’t need him to.

“You’re just a figment of my imagination,” she muttered, her thoughts finally able to form into verbal words. She looked down at her hands, as if they were the only thing that kept her from spiralling. “A hallucination of a chronic insomniac. You’re nothing but a dream, a test. I’m just dealing with a lot of emotions and stress, and this is all a coping mechanism…”

“A test?” he asked distantly.

“A test to see if I’m really ready to get married.”

When she heard him hum, he was a lot closer than she expected, and had already felt the heat radiating off his chest on her back before he’d even made a noise. Turning around, she was met with a dark pair of eyes, a gaze so intense she felt like her feet were suddenly cemented to the floor.

His shirt was sticking to his chest, leaving nothing to the imagination, and the fringe at the top of his head was as messy as her ragged breaths.

“If I’m just a dream, how can I do this?”

She didn’t stop him when he tilted his head, nor when his warm lips met hers with a gentle fire. Passionately, and slowly, they moved against hers, until the tingling sensation it sent through her made it impossible for her to refrain. And so, she kissed him back.

Nothing like what she’d ever felt with anyone else, something almost too good to be true. Like first kiss, hesitant and new, but with an unrealistic perfection. It shouldn’t feel this way. Her hand running across his wet chest shouldn’t make her want to pull him only closer. Her hips shouldn’t feel such satisfaction as he squeezed them and pulled them against his.

Her eyes opened, not even having realized she had had them closed right as skin met skin, and when she wasn’t met with a curly bush of brown, but only a slicked back messy fringe of pure perfection, she panicked.

“I… I have to go.” It was barely muttered against his lips, but he’d heard it.

He was unable to say any more, as she had somehow already rushed through the room and down the steps. And as the front door slammed shut with a finality, she had left him. And he continued to spend his night like any other night; all alone.

Last night had felt like a dream, something that didn’t sedate the terrifying realization she’d had when the dots finally connected. She lay awake all night, her eyes barely blinking as they continued to glare at the red digital numbers on her alarm clock, until she turned it off precisely a minute before it would start blaring.

She had thought about just staying in bed for the rest of the day. She had also thought about calling Mark. But Mark would call her, those were the rules. If he called her, he had cooled off and everything would be fine again. It would all go back to normal, and she would never go to town in the dark again. Not ever did she have to see his face again.

But her plans went out the window to just keep waiting underneath her comfortable sheets, which had made sure her dress was dry by now, when she heard her mum open the front door and invite people in.

A few minutes after she was called to join them for breakfast, and that she shouldn’t have to worry about wearing her pyjamas like she always did.

So, she did the sane thing and got changed into her pyjamas, cleaned her face of all blotches of makeup and headed downstairs.

At the dining table sat a couple who appeared to be around her mother’s age, with greying features, but kind eyes. They seemed vaguely familiar, so she was unsure of whether she had to introduce herself or not. If she somehow did know them, she would look like a fool.

But thankfully, her mother took notice.

“Grab a plate dear, and join us.” She did as was told, as her mother continued to talk about how she met the couple in one of her group couple therapy sessions, ones she and her father still attended regularly.

She’d only gotten to point of introducing them to her when she had already sat down, something she was thankful for, because if she hadn’t been, she would’ve most definitely fallen over.

“These are mister and missus Turner.”

Her heart sank to the bottom of her stomach, as her eyes met the brown orbs of what was most assuredly Alex Turner’s mother.

“-They were just telling me about their son.”

And oh, how she wished she could’ve just closed the book by now.

***

@alexbandguy86 @bettyschwallocksyee @fookingsummertime @juicebox-baby@darksydork7 @edgythought @ssadderdaze @h0twasabi @rogerseyeliner @zcars777 @toolateformcrtooearlytoleaveemo @rosemallowss

#Arctic Monkeys #Arctic Monkeys Fanfic #Alex Turner Fanfic #Alex Turner #Alex Turner x Reader #Alex Turner/Reader #The Last Shadow Puppets #TLSP #AM #Humbug #whatever people say i am that's what i'm not #Miles Kane #Nick O'Malley #Jamie Cook #Matt Helders #favorite worst nightmare #TBHC #Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino #Midnight In Sheffield

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cake-writes · 4 years

Text

Breathe (Lecture 1)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Story Warnings: Slow Burn, Angst, Fluff, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Mixed Delivery (Social Media & Written Parts), Eventual 18+

Summary: Bucky takes a history class at his local university in hopes of catching up on the last few decades, on everything he’s missed whilst under Hydra’s control – but he winds up learning a lot more than what’s on the syllabus. He learns how to heal.

Written for @the-omni-princess’s 1k writing challenge!

(Formerly Hope & Happiness; I decided that I needed a better title!)

TAG LIST: OPEN

💛 This fic is interactive. Here’s how it works! 💛

So I took the time to find an actual university course to complement this story because I’m just that invested, you guys. (I’m also a huge history nerd, lmao.) The syllabus and lectures are real, and any content relating to these in my story is straight from the source.

Lectures are recorded and available for a listen! Most written chapters will correspond to a lecture; I’ll list which one at the top of the chapter if you want to learn along with Bucky. Each one is about 40-50 minutes long and in English. Click here to access them!

This is definitely optional, though, so please don’t feel pressured to listen, but if you’re a history nerd like me then you may want to take a look!

Wednesday, August 24

Lecture 1: Introductory Lecture

Although Bucky had been on campus a couple of times before now – first to apply, and then to meet with an advisor as all new students were required to do – he didn’t think he’d ever get used to the sheer size of it. Universities these days were massive: cities within a city, buildings upon restaurants upon shops and all he wanted to do was learn.

That was all he’d ever wanted to do, really. Learn about himself. Learn what made the world tick. Learn all the things he didn’t know. He’d always excelled in school, and once upon a time he’d started to save money in order to attend university. Didn’t know what he’d study – just knew that he wanted a degree in order to support the family he thought he’d have one day.

Ambitions for the future.

Then came the draft. Because hadn’t yet been able to save enough, he’d been shipped out to the European Theater – sent to hell, not to college.

Ambitions for the past.

Two years spent in cold, wintery foxholes gave him an opportunity to think, but all he could think about was the stench of death surrounding him, surrounding his unit, surrounding every waking moment of his life at war. Not his death, of course, but it may as well have been.

Bucky learned to hone in on the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, the rush of adrenaline in his veins, the sensation of his boots in mud and snow. He learned to focus. He learned to survive.

And all the while, he lived with the very real possibility that he wouldn’t make it through – and, well, he didn’t. Not really. Some parts of him never made it back; what little remained became the property of Hydra. Mind corrupted, soul shattered, will broken into sharp, jagged shards of glass.

Fragile. Breakable. Erased, but still alive.

Bucky may have survived, but he’d never really been right since – never really been whole. Physically and mentally, with too many pieces of himself missing or damaged, one constant stayed the same: a desire to learn. He’d gotten through the war and Hydra’s harsh training because that quality was a part of him – one of the only parts that made it through.

Battle-worn and weary from surviving – not living, not really – Bucky finally had the opportunity to take a step back from the battlefield to just… exist. To live. To breathe. In taking a leave of absence, he embarked upon another journey: to rediscover the man he used to be.

It would be difficult task, he knew. The twenty-first century was far cry from the 1940s, a far cry from home, and the sheer size of the college campus only served to remind him of that. In fact, he was only able to recognize that he was still in New York because this school happened to be the very same one he’d once planned to attend so long ago. Staten Island University. Right across the bridge from his present-day apartment in Brooklyn, not to mention his old family home.

Home.

But this unfamiliar new century was his home, now, so he sought to learn what he’d missed over all the decades he’d lost to Hydra. In the process, maybe he’d learn about himself, learn what made the world tick, learn all the things he didn’t know.

What better place could there be to do that than at a university?

Bucky soon found out that his education would be paid for by the United States government for his service in the military. Ironic that the very barrier which forced him into war was the same thing being gifted to him now. The GI Bill. A reward for his patriotism. A thank you for his sacrifice.

Flowery words for a bribe meant to keep him silent. Call him jaded.

Worse still, if Bucky thought tuition was expensive back then, he didn’t know what to call it today. He’d been rendered speechless when he found out what a single class would cost, but rest assured, Uncle Sam would pay for it so that he didn’t have to.

Physically, it only cost him an arm but mentally, it cost him so much more.

U.S. Society and Politics Since 1945. Mondays and Wednesdays at two o’clock. Three credit hours, whatever that meant. He signed up for the class after his first meeting with an advisor – thought that it might do him good to put his past behind him and learn.

Bucky arrived about twenty minutes before the class was due to start, all nerves and first day jitters – absolutely ridiculous when he really thought about it, so he tried to put it out of his mind and selected a seat in the very back row in hopes of not being noticed.

Counting seats proved to be a good distraction. Three hundred seats. Would there really be that many students? Save for a handful of his new classmates scattered about, the too-large lecture hall seemed like it would never fill. Sure enough, however, it eventually started to – not all three hundred seats, but close enough.

It wasn’t until then that Bucky realized he might have been woefully unprepared. Just about everyone else had laptops sat out front of them, and while he could use one – clunkily – he still preferred something more a little more tangible. All he’d brought along was the required textbook, a notebook, and two pens, one of which he’d been rolling in between a gloved thumb and forefinger for the last few minutes.

That was a nervous tic of his, one he’d picked up in the army, except today it was a pen instead of a cigarette and he sure could have used a pack of Lucky Strikes right now. A cigarette would have done wonders to take the edge off, but he didn’t smoke, not anymore. Frustrated, he dropped the pen back down onto his desk and slumped down in his chair.

Had school always been this nerve-wracking? He couldn’t remember.

A snort drew his attention, and Bucky glanced to his left to find you sitting a few seats down in the same back row, watching him in amusement.

It caught him off-guard.

“Is this your first class?”

A innocent question, unprompted – untainted.

While Bucky knew that there would be some socializing required, especially in the discussion section of the class, never in his wildest dreams did he think that anyone would be willing to strike up a conversation with him. He had half a mind to say ‘no’ and ignore you as long as possible, but for whatever reason, he didn’t. He opened up.

“How could you tell?”

You shrugged. “You’re fidgeting, for one. But mostly because you don’t have a bag.”

Why would he need a bag? He was only taking one class.

At his doubtful look, you spoke again, voice light and airy, “Don’t worry. You’ll learn.”

Well, that was foreboding. Then again, you seemed like you would know. You looked slightly older than most of the other students who were likely fresh out of high school, and you appeared to be all sorts of prepared, what with a leather laptop bag on the chair to your right and some brightly-coloured notebooks, binders, and a few thick textbooks all strewn about the desk in front of you.

A laptop bag, but no laptop. Strange.

Bucky wasn’t really sure why he wanted to know, but he nodded to your books and asked anyway, “What else are you taking?”

“Mostly upper-level psychology classes. I’m in my final year. What about you?”

“This is my only class,” he admitted, and to him, that wasn’t a satisfactory answer. He was only taking the one class with no particular goal in mind, but here you were, taking at least four other classes judging by the number of textbooks on your desk.

You had a goal.

He didn’t.

You didn’t ask why, though; instead, you offered him your name, along with a bright smile.

“Bucky,” he found himself telling you way too easily.

“Well, Bucky, it’s nice to meet you.” You paused, then, before you made an offhanded comment of, “I think it’s really good to have a friend in class, you know? Mostly so you can steal their notes when you skip.”

A joke, perhaps, but Bucky took it literally. That may have been the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “I’m not gonna— Who pays thousands of dollars in tuition and then decides not to come?”

Your brows rose in surprise for a moment or two, but then you laughed at his stick-in-the-mud response. “Oh no, you’re one of those. What a goody two-shoes!”

Don’t worry, you’d said. You’ll learn.

But the mischievous sparkle in your eyes let him know that you were just teasing, and what’s more, he actually didn’t mind. No, he kind of liked it, having some normal human interaction for once – not whatever the hell he’d grown used to at the compound. Between blood-spattered banter in the field and too-dark humour used as a coping mechanism, his interactions there were anything but normal.

Bucky also liked that you had no idea how wrong your sentiment was; not that he’d never admit it. This was the first time in a long, long while that he’d been treated like a regular person – not enhanced, not a science experiment, not an Avenger – and he had no intention of shattering the illusion anytime soon.

“I’m not giving you my notes, either,” he deadpanned.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Super goody two-shoes. My mistake.”

When he opened his mouth to respond to your sassy one-liner, however, the professor’s voice sounded from the front of the lecture hall. You gave him a final wink before you turned to face the front, purple pen already poised and ready to go.

Good afternoon! Can you hear me in the nosebleeds? Yes? With me? Okay…

Forty-five minutes passed in a blink, and most of the students quickly started to pack up their belongings – but not you. No, you stayed in your seat and continued scribbling away at something in your notes, seemingly having zero plans to leave anytime soon. Bucky couldn’t help but be curious as to why you weren’t packing up, but it wasn’t any of his business and he didn’t ask.

Armed with a new syllabus and a daunting list of required readings for the week, he pulled himself to his feet and collected his own belongings; only managed to push the chair back in and take about two steps toward the door before he heard your voice again.

“Hey, Bucky, wait.”

He turned around to see you still reading through one of your textbooks, not even looking in his direction, but in your outstretched hand was a bright pink sticky note.

What?

“Come on,” still focused on your reading, you waved the post-it, pink paper flapping in the makeshift breeze but staying stuck to your finger anyway, “Take it. Here.”

Hesitantly, Bucky stepped closer and accepted the proffered note. Upon it, he found that you’d hastily scrawled your name and phone number, along with what he assumed was meant to be a smiley face. The drawing was god-awful, and a welcome distraction from the way his heart had immediately leapt into his throat because a woman had just given him her phone number.

Her phone number.

“Th— Thanks?” he stammered, unsure.

Now, he certainly wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, but this—

“Don’t get any weird ideas,” you interrupted his train of thought, finally pulling your eyes away from the textbook to look up at him.

Gorgeous, glimmering, big doe eyes focused right on him, now, and seeing you up close like this, a fleeting thought crossed his mind about how attractive you were. He blamed it on the fact that you’d just given him your number, and now his brain only wanted to overthink what he’d interpreted as the first sign of potential interest from the opposite sex in – well, far too long.

Bucky hadn’t been expecting that at all, and he wasn’t particularly interested to pursue such a thing, either. At least not right now. He still needed to get his head on straight; still needed to figure out his own problems before he took on someone else’s.

Even if you were a pretty little thing he might have taken dancing, once.

Then you added, “If you have any questions, just shoot me a text, okay? I remember how lost I was when I first started, especially because I’m a,” you did some air-quotes, then, “‘mature-aged’ student.” Another snort, one much less ladylike than before. “Mature-aged. I’m not that old!”

So it was a friendly offer. Nothing more. Not like the implications in the 40s – and Bucky thought, then, that if you were considered to be ‘mature-aged,’ he didn’t want to find out how he’d stack up.

“Thanks,” he said again, this time a little less unsurely. “I appreciate it.”

Another one of your bright smiles brought a sense of calm over him, a feeling that carried over even when you poked fun at him again, “Then I guess I’ll see you next week, Mr. Goody Two-Shoes.”

“Yeah,” he responded, feeling the corners of his lips turn up just a little at your goodnatured teasing. “See you next week.”

And when he left the lecture hall, fluorescent pink post-it stuck to the inside of his notebook, Bucky’s footsteps felt just a little lighter than before – and so did his heart.

Part Two

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #breathe

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calumcest · 4 years

Text

dancing with the demons (holy spirit, holy spirit)

[ao3]

yes its 1am yes i just finished this fic yes i am exhausted yes i currently have an exam i should be doing looks like Helen’s Deadline Season Coping Mechanism is back in full swing

i have to give my everlasting thanks to @ashesonthefloor and @clumsyclifford for their chaotic minds providing me excellent ideas and for always being so supportive of the things i write and motivating me to keep writing and also especially to ainslee for patiently listening to me talk about this for like the past three weeks before i could actually write it

also this VERY very loosely based on christianity but as you will see: VERY. VERY. loosely

“You’re kind of a shitty demon,” he tells Calum, who scowls.

“Fuck you,” he says. “You’re kind of a shitty angel.”

“Oh, dude, I know,” Michael agrees.

Humans, Michael thinks sourly, wouldn’t be nearly as interested in getting to Heaven if they knew Ashton were in there.

He means well, Michael knows that, and he’s just doing his job, but that doesn’t make it any less irritating when Michael gets Summoned twice a week to answer for whatever petty crime he’s committed this time. So sue him, he forgot witchcraft was sacrilege, and forgot that astrology falls under that umbrella, and he’d been amused when he’d seen a lady claiming to be able to tell him what was in store for him next year, and he’d had ten dollars on him. He’s thousands of years old, how the fuck is he supposed to remember every tiny rule? Plus, he thinks, cocking his head, she’d told him that a colleague would present difficulties for him, and the way Ashton’s ranting right now is just vindicating the poor woman.

“...set an example, Michael,” Ashton’s saying, when Michael tunes back in. “You were an archangel. You have to be better.” Michael rolls his eyes.

“Ashton, I swear to God-” Ashton slaps his hand down on the table.

“That’s exactly your fucking problem!” he says furiously, and then tenses as he realises what he’s said. Michael can feel the repentance washing over Ashton, the genuine purity of it, and it makes him wince a little bit. Ashton clears his throat, and tries again. “You can’t be blaspheming like that. You’re an angel, Michael. You have free will, and you know what a double-edged sword that is.” Michael folds his arms, wings ruffling defensively. Ashton’s always so fucking hot on how dangerous free will is, like he’s had some kind of bad experience with it, and Michael doesn’t get it. Ashton’s never stepped more than a centimetre out of line in his entire life.

“I’m loyal to Him,” he says firmly. “He knows that.” Are you questioning Him? remains unspoken, but rings loud in the air between them.

“I know,” Ashton says wearily. “But He did demote you. Again.”

“I mean, I did give the Son an onion disguised as an apple,” Michael points out. Ashton glares at him.

“Are you trying to make this worse for yourself?” he demands, and Michael holds his hands up in defence.

��Not my fault Jesus doesn’t have a sense of humour,” he mutters, under his breath so Ashton can pretend not to have heard it. He still thinks it was hilarious, made even more so by the connotation of original sin. Maybe the fact he hasn’t repented is why He keeps letting Michael get reamed out by Ashton for the smallest fucking things.

“You’re lucky He didn’t count that as a rebellion” Ashton tells him. Michael rolls his eyes.

“What the fuck do you want me to say, Ash?” he says, spreading his hands, ignoring the way Ashton flinches at the curse word. “I’m sorry? I repent? Forgive me Ashton, for I have sinned?” Ashton sighs, but chooses not to comment on the sarcasm.

“I’m assigning you another case,” he says instead, “and you’d better not mess this one up.” Michael groans, and Ashton gives him a sharp look. “You’re always free to leave, Michael. You know that.” Michael tips his head back to stare at the ceiling and lets his eyes flutter shut, shaking his head.

“What is it?” he mumbles. He hears paper sliding across Ashton’s desk, and pinches the bridge of his nose for a minute, inhaling deeply, before forcing his head back forwards to see the file Ashton’s pushed at him.

“A demon,” Ashton says.

“Oh, for fu- for Go- uh, for goodness’ sake,” Michael says hurriedly, when he sees the look Ashton sends his way. “Seriously, Ash? A demon?” Ashton shrugs.

“You want to act like a kid, you get treated like a kid,” he says. Michael exhales heavily, and picks up the file, flicking it open to the first page.

“Calum?” he says sceptically. “What kind of a name for a demon is that?”

“You’d do well to remember who named him,” Ashton reminds him, and Michael rolls his eyes.

“He doesn’t look very threatening,” he remarks, flicking through Calum’s file. “What, a couple of possessions, a few cases of muteness...c’mon, Ash, this is well below my pay grade.”

“Firstly,” Ashton says, in that tone that says I don’t like what you just said at all but I’m going to be the bigger angel here, “you don’t have a pay grade, and secondly, you’ll take what you’re given.”

“I know, but c’mon, this?” Michael says, waving the file in Ashton’s face. “You could deal with this in two minutes, Ashton, why send me after him?” Ashton presses his lips together and looks away, and Michael cocks his head, realisation dawning on him. “Oh, shit. He’s sending me after him.”

“You know I can’t comment on that,” Ashton says, but his wings twitch uncomfortably and he doesn’t even tell Michael off for cursing, so Michael knows he’s right.

“What does He want me to do this for?” Michael asks curiously.

“The Lord moves in a mysterious way,” Ashton says primly, which is his go-to response when he knows the answer but doesn’t want to say it. Michael sits back in his seat heavily, grinning.

“Okay,” he says, nodding. “Yeah. I’ll take the case.” Ashton rolls his eyes.

“You’ll do as He darn well says,” he tells Michael, who grins.

“I’ll do as I damn well please,” he says, and Ashton just sighs in defeat.

-------

The first time Michael finds Calum, he’s loosening lug nuts on car wheels in the dead of night.

He’s knelt on the floor, spanner in his hand, humming something to himself as he works. Michael leans against a car behind him, folding his arms, and watches him for a while, watches the way he bobs his head to the song in his head, taps his fingers on the spanner, grins to himself when the lug nut loosens enough for him to move onto the next one.

“Man, what kind of demon uses a spanner?” Michael comments after a few minutes. Calum spins around, on his feet at the speed of light, eyes black, teeth bared. Michael just gives him a bored look.

“Who are you?” Calum hisses. Michael cocks an eyebrow.

“Don’t recognise me?” he says, and Calum just growls at him. “Damn, how long were you in Heaven? Two minutes?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Calum spits. Michael sighs, pretending he’s not enjoying this as much as he is, and lets his wings unfold, big and pure white behind him. Calum’s eyes widen, still all-black but with an edge of fear, and he takes a step back. Michael tries his best not to smirk.

“You’re not an angel,” Calum says, sounding like he’s trying to reassure himself.

“Aren’t I?” Michael says coolly, tucking his wings back in. They feel a little cramped, but he’s made his point, and it’s cold.

“You said damn,” Calum says, still a little afraid, but also a little confused. Michael shrugs.

“I have free will,” he says. “Perks of being an angel.” Calum stares at him, and his eyes flash back to looking human again. Michael can’t see too well in the poor light, but they’re still dark, maybe a deep brown, and there’s some sort of a spark in them that makes Michael’s stomach flip.

He can see Calum a little better now as his eyes adjust to the dark, can see the black jeans and black leather jacket and thin black t-shirt hugging his muscular physique, can see what looks like tattoos on his hands and collarbones and can’t help but wonder whether there are more to be found.

And yeah, that’s a dangerous train of thought, so he stops himself firmly, allowing himself a sigh. Of course He’s saddled Michael with the hottest demon to walk the realms.

“Whose car is that?” Michael asks, nodding at the car Calum’s been working on. Calum’s eyes linger on him for a moment, like he doesn’t trust that Michael’s not going to attack him the minute he blinks, and then looks over at the wheels.

“Don’t know,” he says.

“You’re trying to fuck with someone you don’t even know?” Calum shrugs, eyes flicking back to Michael.

“Why not?” he says. Michael narrows his eyes.

“You know fucking with humans is, like, bad, right?” he says.

“For you,” Calum says, and there’s a glimmer of wicked amusement behind his dark eyes. Michael swallows. “Don’t know if you’ve heard, but my boss isn’t so hot on all of those kinds of rules.”

“Yeah, I know,” Michael says darkly, because if there’s anyone from Hell Michael’s well-acquainted with, it’s the Devil. Calum, who seems to have now decided that Michael’s had his chance to kill him and hasn’t, casts him one final glance before picking up the spanner, twirling it in his hands (Michael chants a prayer to keep the thoughts about Calum’s fingers at bay), and kneeling at the next wheel.

“Who are you?” Calum asks again.

“Michael,” Michael says, as Calum starts twisting the lug nuts the wrong way, tightening them instead of loosening them. “That’s the wrong way, man.”

“Fuck,” Calum mutters, and starts twisting the other way. Michael cocks his head.

“You’re kind of a shitty demon,” he tells Calum, who scowls.

“Fuck you,” he says. “You’re kind of a shitty angel.”

“Oh, dude, I know,” Michael agrees.

“Aren’t you a fucking archangel? Michael?”

“Used to be,” Michael says. “Got demoted.” Calum snorts.

“Demoted?”

“Yeah,” Michael says, with a sigh. “Big man doesn’t like it when you play practical jokes on the Son.” Calum laughs.

“Yeah, you’re a really shitty angel,” he tells Michael, who bristles slightly.

“Well, I did defeat Satan,” Michael says defensively. Calum grins, all wicked and sharp teeth.

“Yeah, he’s mentioned,” he says, and then leans back from the wheel with a sigh. “Man, would you give me a hand?” Michael cocks his head.

“I’m meant to be stopping you, dude,” he says. Calum rolls his eyes.

“You’re not doing a very good job,” he says. Michael thinks he would do a much better job if Calum weren’t so fucking pretty. That’s kind of unfair, he thinks. It gives Calum an automatic advantage.

“Stop it,” Michael says, and Calum laughs, tilting his head back, and Jesus Christ, Michael wants to mark up his neck. He sends a quick apology prayer to whoever might have heard that thought, and clears his throat. “Seriously, Calum. Stop.”

“Or what?” Calum says, eyes glittering mischievously. “You’ll scowl at me?” Michael cocks his head, and the grin slips off Calum’s face as he starts to choke. He clutches at his throat, looking somewhere between confused and shocked. Michael lets it go on for a few more seconds, relishing the way Calum’s gasping for air, before he lets Calum go. Calum falls back on his heels heavily, a pained expression on his face.

“Stop it,” Michael says simply, and he hears the power in his own voice. Calum winces, head jerking down in a forced bow, and right, yeah, Michael forgot that holy power has that effect on demons.

“Damn,” Calum says, looking up through inky lashes when Michael lets him go, voice hoarse, but eyes twinkling. “Didn’t take you for the kinky sort.” Ashton is going to string Michael up by his wings for the thoughts that follow that sentence.

“Fuck you,” Michael says, scowling, as he sends up yet another apology prayer. Calum cocks an eyebrow, grinning.

“If you’re offering,” he says, rubbing at his throat. Michael sighs to hide the please that’s probably written all over his face.

“Don’t let me catch you again,” he says instead.

“What, you’re not going to kill me?” Calum says, and he sounds a little surprised. Michael frowns at him.

“You want me to?”

“Just thought you would,” Calum says, shrugging. Michael hesitates.

“You’re not really that threatening, dude,” he says eventually. And you’re far too pretty to kill. “I think the world can handle you.” Calum scowls at him, and flips him off with his left hand, picking up the spanner again with his right. Michael wordlessly tightens all the lug nuts again with a surreptitious flick of his wrist.

“See you next time, angel,” Calum says, slotting the spanner onto another lug nut.

“Not if you know what’s good for you, demon,” Michael says, turning away and tipping his head back up to Heaven. He hears a grunt behind him as Calum tugs on the lug nut, and grins to himself.

“Are you fucking kidding me, dude?” Calum cries, and it’s the last thing Michael hears before everything turns white.

-------

The second time Ashton sends Michael after Calum, he finds him in a Starbucks. His leather jacket is hung across the chair behind him, and he’s staring at a guy a few metres away from him with a look of pure concentration on his face. Michael takes a moment to drink it in, because he looks really fucking cute and his biceps are, like, right there - and yeah, Michael was right about there being more tattoos - before sliding into the seat opposite Calum. Calum jumps, tearing his eyes away from the guy to Michael, scowling when he realises who it is.

“Hey,” Michael says nonchalantly, reaching for Calum’s coffee and taking a sip. It’s, like, pure fucking caffeine, and he pulls a face, pushing it back to Calum.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Calum hisses.

“According to my superior, you’re up to no good,” Michael says. “I’m here to stop you.” Calum rolls his eyes.

“You’re no fucking fun,” he says. Michael shrugs, and reaches for Calum’s chocolate muffin. He’s always regretted not planting the idea of chocolate in the minds of humans earlier.

“What were you trying to do?” he says, through a mouthful of muffin.

“Why would I fucking tell you?” Calum says, folding his arms. “You’ll just undo it.” Michael raises an eyebrow, and swallows.

“The guy’s tattoo,” he says. Calum scowls again. “What’d you do to it?”

“It said Lisa,” Calum says sullenly. “Changed it to ‘Lice’.” Michael looks over at the guy’s tattoo again - and yeah, he does actually now have a heart with Lice in it proudly displayed on his arm. Michael can’t help the snort that escapes him. God, would Ashton kill him if he left that one as it is? The answer is almost a hundred percent, but he thinks it might still be worth it.

“That is fucking funny,” Michael agrees.

“Man, how the fuck are you still an angel?” Calum says, and Michael huffs out a laugh, taking another bite out of the muffin. Calum snatches the rest of it out of Michael’s hands.

“This is my fucking muffin,” he says, waving the remnants of it in Michael’s face. Michael shrugs.

“Steal yourself another one,” he says.

“You steal yourself one,” Calum mutters.

“I’m an angel, dude,” Michael says.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Michael rolls his eyes, snapping his fingers as Calum raises the last bit of the muffin to his mouth. The muffin disappears and Calum bites down on thin air, looking confused for a split second before glowering at Michael.

“What the fuck?” he demands. “Why’d you do that? That was a good fucking muffin.” Michael shrugs, grinning.

“For the hell of it,” he says, snapping his fingers again, and the muffin re-materialises in his hand. He throws it in the air, catching it in his mouth, and winks at Calum as he chews. Calum watches him, half in intrigue, half in outrage, mouth slightly open. He’s got such full lips, Michael thinks, and then hastily swallows both the muffin and that train of thought.

“You’re the worst angel I’ve ever met,” Calum says decisively, sinking back in his seat.

“You met many?” Michael asks casually.

“No, but I’m pretty sure you’re the worst they’ve got,” Calum tells him. “I’m going to write a letter of recommendation to get you kicked out of He-” he winces. “Up there.” Michael cocks his head.

“What’d you do to get kicked out?” he asks.

“What do any of us do?” Calum says grumpily. “Exercise our free will.”

“I exercise my free will,” Michael points out.

“Yeah, to fucking swear,” Calum says. “You’re like that kid at school who gets an adrenaline rush from telling someone to shut up.” Michael scowls.

“Fuck you,” he says, and Calum grins wickedly.

“You kiss your Father with that mouth?” he says. Michael flips him off.

“Right, well, this has been fun,” he says, wiping his hands on a napkin as he gets to his feet, “but I’ve got to get going. Stop fucking with humans.”

“Man, you’d be way more fun if you weren’t an angel,” Calum says mournfully.

“I dunno,” Michael says, mock-thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t get to do this then, would I?” He snaps his fingers, just for dramatic effect, and the Lice tattoo on the man’s arm rearranges itself to say Lisa again, and an identical heart with Lice appears on Calum’s bicep. Calum twists his arm around with a look of absolute horror.

“You absolute fucking bastard,” Calum shouts, making at least five people in the Starbucks turn around and give him a sharp look (not that he’ll fucking care).

“Be a good boy, demon,” Michael says, throwing him a grin before heading out into the warm October air.

-------

The first thing Michael’s going to do when He gets over Himself and reinstates Michael as an archangel is have a word with Him about ever giving Ashton Summoning powers.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Michael mutters, using his right wing to rub his head where he’d banged it on impact.

“Are you serious?” Ashton says, hands on his hips. “You come straight into my office and blaspheme?”

“Don’t fucking Summon me with no warning, then,” Michael says, shaking his wings out. Ashton throws him a glare, probably for cursing, possibly for having the gall to respond at all.

“You’re an angel, Michael, you’ll come when you’re called,” he says reprovingly. Michael rolls his eyes, but throws himself down on the chair on the other side of Ashton’s desk heavily.

“What?” he says, with a long-suffering sigh.

“It’s Calum,” Ashton says.

“Again?” Ashton throws him a look.

“You could’ve killed him,” he says pointedly. Michael shrugs, a little uncomfortably. He knows he should have, but something about Calum just draws Michael in, makes it impossible for him to say no.

“He was fucking with tattoos and unscrewing lug nuts, Ash,” he says, a little too defensive. “Not exactly crimes of the millennium.” Ashton scrutinises him for a moment, and then purses his lips.

“Well,” he says primly, “apparently he’s turned up in LA.” Michael can’t help but smile at that, because yeah, LA sounds like exactly the kind of place a demon like Calum would show up. Ashton sees it, and frowns. “Michael, this is a case, you hear me? Calum’s still a demon, no matter how much you want to copulate with him.” Michael scowls. Fucking Ashton, always listening to his prayers.

“No one says fucking copulate anymore,” he snipes, because he can’t exactly deny it. “You’d know if you ever got down off your high horse and visited Earth.” Ashton rolls his eyes.

“I’m pretty busy up here,” he says, gesturing to all the paperwork piled high on his desk.

“I’m telling you, station Pahaliah with Peter at the gates,” Michael says. “You’d cut all this in half.”

“Are you kidding me?” Ashton says. “Pahaliah’s had his work cut out for him since the Enlightenment.” Michael rolls his eyes.

“Alright, Barachiel, then,” he suggests. “He’s a fucking pain in the arse. Might do him some good to do something mundane for a few centuries.”

“I think He has bigger plans for His archangels than guarding the gates,” Ashton says. Michael raises an eyebrow, and Ashton rolls his eyes. “You’re not an archangel anymore, Michael.”

“I am in all but name,” Michael says with a shrug, because He always relents where Michael’s concerned. “This is my, what, twelfth demotion? Thirteenth?”

“This one might stick,” Ashton says warningly, which is what he says every time it happens. His concern is kind of cute, Michael thinks, if unwarranted. Ashton’s never understood Him like Michael does.

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael says dismissively, because he’s not about to have this discussion with Ashton again. “Can I go now?” Ashton frowns at him, which Michael takes as a yes. He lifts himself up from the chair, stretching his wings and arms out, and turns to leave.

“Do not copulate with the demon, Michael,” Ashton says.

“I won’t,” Michael promises, heading for the door. “Might fuck him, though.”

(The force with which Ashton slams him into the wall makes the whole building shake, but it’s absolutely worth it.)

-------

LA is cold in November, which Michael had forgotten. It’s also busy, which means he can’t draw his wings around himself for extra warmth, nor simply teleport himself to the studio Calum’s apparently in. Instead, he has to huddle into himself and elbow his way through the Hollywood crowds, meaning he’s in a pretty bad mood by the time he actually gets to where he needs to be.

Michael distracts the security guard momentarily with a quick wave of his hand, enough for him to slip inside unnoticed. It’s a small studio, only a handful of live rooms, and Michael only has to peek into two before he finds the one Calum’s in.

Calum, clad in his usual all-black get-up, is leaning against the wall of the studio, grinning as he watches the sound engineer frowning, fiddling with a bunch of his controls. Michael can see the shimmer of the glamour he’s cast, and wordlessly casts one of his own as he clicks the door shut behind him. The sound engineer doesn’t even look up, so preoccupied with trying to fix whatever’s going wrong, but Calum hears the sound and whips around, scowling when he sees Michael.

“Do you just, like, have a sixth sense for when there’s some fun occurring that could be stopped?” he asks, and Michael grins at him.

“Just got a sixth sense for shitty demons,” he says, and Calum’s scowl deepens.

“Fuck you,” he says. Michael raises an eyebrow, then casts a look over at the live room on the other side of the glass. There’s a band in there, two girls on guitar, one on bass and one on drums, all frowning at their instruments and fiddling with tuning pegs or tension rods.

“You’re un-tuning their instruments?” he says. “That’s pretty bad, even for you.” Calum makes a noise of outrage.

“What do you mean, even for me?” he says, sounding scandalised. “That tattoo was fucking hilarious, you said so yourself.” Michael’s eyes flick down to Calum’s bicep, even though it’s covered by his leather jacket. Calum notices, and folds his arms. “Yeah, fuck you for that. Do you have any idea the number of favours I had to call in to get rid of it?” Michael snorts.

“Who the fuck owes you favours?” he asks, and Calum grins, eyes gleaming.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he says.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m asking,” Michael points out. Calum rolls his eyes, and turns back to the sound engineer, who looks like he’s ready to cry.

“I asked around about you,” Calum comments casually, as they both watch the sound engineer fiddle with yet more knobs.

“Oh?” Michael hums, interest piqued. “You know, the Devil and I had a good understanding.”

“Yeah, until you waged a war against him,” Calum says.

“On the Lord’s orders,” Michael says, a little defensively.

“Well, he found it pretty funny that you got demoted,” Calum says. Michael rolls his eyes. Of course he did.

“He would,” Michael says. “Did he tell you about the time the Lord made him wash the Son’s feet in front of the whole host?” Calum gapes at him.

“No,” he says, sounding flabbergasted. Michael grins, feeling oddly satisfied.

“Yeah, I bet he didn’t,” he says. “Didn’t realise he concerned himself with petty demons like you, anyway.” Calum scowls.

“I’m not a petty demon,” he says, a shade petulantly.

“You un-tune people’s guitars, dude,” Michael says. “Pretty sure demons are meant to be out committing homicide, and stuff.”

“There are plenty of demons who do the whole murder thing,” Calum says, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m striking out.” Michael can’t help but grin at that.

“I’ll put that in your file,” he tells Calum. “‘Not Like Other Demons’. Got it.”

“I’ve got a file?”

“What, you think we just let demons run around unchecked?” Calum blinks at him.

“You know Galadriel’s in the US president’s cabinet right now?” he says slowly.

“Of course we know,” Michael says.

“And you’re leaving him be?” Michael shrugs.

“Not my department,” he says. Calum stares at him for a moment, and then a grin breaks out on his face, and he shakes his head.

“Man, things have definitely changed since I was up there,” he says.

“When was that?” Michael asks. Calum shrugs.

“I dunno, I’m not great with time,” he says. “One, two thousand years ago?” Michael hums thoughtfully.

“You remember Raphael?” he says. Calum rolls his eyes, and now that, that is a sentiment Michael can really get behind.

“Unfortunately,” he mutters. “He still so fucking holier-than-thou?”

“You thought he was holier-than-thou then?” Michael says, raising his eyebrows. “You should see him since my latest demotion.” He pitches his voice up a few octaves, and mimics: “Oh, Michael, if you just repented, you could have your seat at His side again. We’re all rooting for you. You’re just letting yourself down.” Calum grins.

“You get demoted often?” It’s Michael’s turn to shrug.

“Every couple of centuries,” he says. Calum laughs, all straight white teeth and sparkling eyes, and Michael’s stomach flips. God, he’s far too fucking pretty for Michael to handle. Is that why He sent Michael after him? Is this His idea of revenge?

“I have no idea how you’re still an angel,” Calum says, shaking his head, still smiling.

“Pure heart,” Michael says solemnly. “That’s why I keep defending these poor, helpless humans from your shitty little tricks.”

“They’re not shitty,” Calum protests, as Michael throws a glance over to the girls in the live room, tightening their tuning pegs and tension rods wordlessly. Calum sighs dramatically, eyes following Michael’s gaze. “Man, you’re so fucking boring, you know that?”

“Whatever you say,” Michael says with a grin, stepping back. “Behave yourself, demon.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Calum says, eyes twinkling. Michael smirks, and drops Calum’s glamour with a snap of his fingers. The sound engineer whirls around immediately, eyes widening when he sees Calum in the corner of the room, and scrambles to his feet, grabbing a nearby guitar and brandishing it like a weapon.

“Who the fuck are you?” the guy shouts. “How the fuck did you get in here?” Calum shoots Michael a glare.

“I fucking hate you, angel,” is the last thing Michael hears before everything goes white.

-------

The next time Ashton sends Michael after Calum, he finds him with another demon who looks decidedly undemonic, blonde hair framing baby-blue eyes. Calum’s head whips around when Michael clears his throat, eyes black, poised to pounce, but he relaxes when he sees who it is. Michael’s not sure what to make of that. The other demon, though, bares his teeth, eyes flashing to black, tensing at Michael’s presence.

“Evening,” Calum says casually as his eyes flicker back to looking human, like they’re friends, and like Michael doesn’t have the power to kill him with a snap of his fingers.

“What are you doing?” Michael asks, cocking his head. There’s glue and there’s coins, and he doesn’t understand how the two of them combine.

“Gluing coins to the footpath,” Calum says, stepping back to let Michael see. In the dim light of the streetlight a few metres away, Michael can see a few coins shining back at him.

“Huh,” he says thoughtfully. “Who’s your friend?”

“Luke,” the other demon says, eyes narrowed and black, posture defensive. He’s oddly familiar, Michael thinks, a bitter taste rising in his throat when they lock eyes. Michael’s dealt with a lot of demons in his time, but he doesn’t remember any called Luke. “Who the fuck is this, Cal?”

“This?” Calum says, far too nonchalantly, kicking at one of the coins to make sure it’s properly stuck. “Michael. You know, the archangel?”

“C’mon, dude,” Michael protests. “That’s a sensitive topic.” Luke looks at him, and there’s an edge of a glint to his eyes that Michael doesn’t like the look of.

“An archangel?” he asks Calum, eyes still on Michael.

“Well, no,” Calum says cheerfully, dropping to his knees again and sending Michael a pointed look, eyes glittering with humour. “He got demoted. Just a regular angel now.” Michael rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in,” he says. “Who are you, the Raphael of Hell?” Calum snorts, and Luke looks from Calum to Michael and back again.

“Are you going to kill us?” he says.

“That depends,” Michael says. “Are you going to piss me off enough to make me?”

“Don’t worry about him,” Calum tells Luke, reaching for another coin and some glue. “He’s the worst angel they’ve got.” Michael sighs, an I didn’t want to have to do this but you’ve twisted my arm kind of sigh, and raises his hand. Calum jerks into the air, feet dangling beneath him, and his wings instinctively shoot out, beating wildly to try and escape Michael’s chokehold. They’re kind of gorgeous, actually - sleek, black feathers, a little unkempt.

“Huh,” Michael says thoughtfully, as Calum struggles against his hold, wheezing and spluttering, and Luke stares at him, looking only mildly interested. “Nice wings, dude.” He lets Calum go, who drops to the ground with a loud crack, splitting the footpath on impact. Calum winces, rubbing at his throat, and folds his wings back in.

“Thanks,” he says, coughing. “Always thought black suited me better.” Michael hums in agreement. He can’t really see the pure, brilliant white he has on his own back working with Calum’s aesthetic.

“Hey, d’you have a halo?” Calum says to Michael, voice still a little hoarse.

“‘Course,” Michael says. “Do you have horns?” Calum snorts, getting to his feet.

“I can if you want me to,” he says, throwing Michael a wink. Luke stares at him.

“Wait, are you two fucking?” he asks, a note of trepidation in his voice. Calum’s eyes flick to Michael, dark and hungry.

“Not yet,” he says, not taking his eyes off Michael. Michael swallows, and apologises to Ashton, who he just knows is listening, for the string of thoughts that just went through his mind.

“I’m just doing my job,” Michael says to Luke, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Calum’s.

“Isn’t your job to kill us?”

“No,” Michael says. “Just to stop you. And, I’ve got to be honest, stopping Calum isn’t exactly hard. He’s kind of a shitty demon.”

“Fuck you,” Calum says, scowling, and Michael grins.

“If you’re lucky,” he says, winking at Calum before turning to Luke. “You don’t seem like a very intimidating demon either, dude, not gonna lie.”

“Oh, you should see him when he’s pissed,” Calum says, and Luke huffs, looking a little embarrassed. “Remember that transport minister in Berlin that fell in front of a train a few months ago?” Michael gapes at him.

“That was you?” he says, rounding on Luke.

“Yep,” Calum says gleefully, on Luke’s behalf.

“What, he stood on my foot on the underground and didn’t apologise,” Luke says defensively. Michael stares at him for a moment, and then shakes his head.

“You’re a way better demon than Calum,” he says, and the cheerful grin slips off Calum’s face, replaced with an indignant scowl.

“What the fuck, dude?” he demands. Michael shrugs.

“Find yourself a better sidekick, Luke,” he recommends, taking a step back.

“Go fuck yourself,” Calum says. Michael grins, flicking his wrist, and all the coins start rolling down the footpath towards the gutter.

“What did I tell you about behaving?” he mock-chides, as Calum makes a noise of outrage, trying to stop a few of the coins with his feet.

“Fuck you, angel,” Calum grumbles, and Michael blows him a kiss as he transports himself back home.

-------

Michael’s in the middle of a debate with Peter about whether or not Julius Caesar should really have been let into Heaven when Ashton Summons him.

“-just shouldn’t have crossed the Rubicon, if you ask me,” Michael finishes his sentence addressing the wall in Ashton’s office. He spins around, annoyed. “What the fuck, Ash? I was having a conversation.” Ashton holds up a picture of Luke and Calum that Michael had put in Calum’s file, tapping on Luke.

“Who’s the friend?” he says.

“Luke,” Michael says. “Can I go now?”

“No,” Ashton says, motioning for Michael to sit. Michael sighs dramatically, but throws himself down into the chair. Ashton sits down opposite him, wings poised, and steeples his fingers against his chin.

“You know Luke?” he asks carefully. Michael shrugs.

“Met him once,” he says. “They were gluing coins to a footpath.” Ashton nods thoughtfully. “Oh, and he killed that transport minister in Berlin a few months ago.”

“I think he’s killed a lot more than just the transport minister,” Ashton says, tapping on a thick, unmarked file on his right. Michael shrugs.

“Humans have to die of something,” he says. Ashton gives him a look.

“We’re meant to protect humanity,” he says reprovingly.

“C’mon, Ash, they live about as long as it takes me to blink,” Michael says. Ashton purses his lips, but he knows Michael’s right.

“I’m going after him,” he says eventually. Michael does a literal, honest-to-God double take.

“You’re doing what?” he says, astounded. “You’re going down?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Ashton says, a little snappily. “Gabriel’ll take over for me when I’m gone.” Michael groans.

“C’mon, Ash, can’t you pick, like, Uriel, or Selaphiel, or something?” he asks desperately, because he’d rather die than answer to Gabriel, but Ashton shakes his head firmly.

“Gabriel’s the only one qualified,” he says, eyes back on the picture of Luke and Calum.

“What’s so interesting about Luke?” Michael asks, seeing the way Ashton’s eyes linger on him. “Why can’t you send someone else after him?” Ashton hesitates, then looks at Michael with a serious expression.

“There’s never been a demon called Luke.”

-------

Michael next sees Calum in a shopping centre food court.

Calum spots him before he manages to get to him, and beckons him over, grinning excitedly. Michael tries to suppress a grin and ignore the way his stomach flips at that, pushing through the crowd to get to the booth Calum’s sat in and sliding in opposite him.

“Watch this,” Calum says gleefully, nodding at the woman to their right. She takes a bite of her margherita pizza, nodding at whatever her friend is saying, and then stops, frowning, hand flying to her throat.

“What did you do?” Michael asks, as the woman starts to cough.

“Made her allergic to salt,” Calum says nonchalantly, and Michael snorts. The woman looks like she’s starting to struggle to breathe, so Michael waves his hand, and she relaxes, coughing a few more times, looking extremely confused and concerned.

“So you’ve progressed to actually killing people now?” Michael asks, mildly intrigued. Calum shakes his head.

“Knew you’d turn up,” he says, flashing Michael a grin. Michael rolls his eyes.

“You don’t know that,” he says. “I’m a busy angel.” Calum snorts.

“Right, that’s why they’ve sent you after me,” he says sarcastically, dipping a chip in some ketchup and popping it in his mouth. “Sure.” Michael shrugs.

“He wanted me to go after you,” he says. Calum stops chewing, and frowns.

“He?” he says, swallowing. “As in, Him?” Michael nods. “What the fuck? I’m on G-” he winces. “I’m on His radar?”

“Apparently so,” Michael says, reaching for one of Calum’s chips and looking around for the mayonnaise. “Hey, where’s the mayo?” Calum stares at him.

“You eat mayo, and I’m the demon?” he says in disbelief. Michael scowls at him, and conjures some mayonnaise.

“It’s the best condiment,” he tells Calum, through a mouthful of chip. Calum shakes his head at him, looking genuinely disappointed.

“What does He want with me, then?” he asks. Michael shrugs.

“Do I look like God?” he says. Calum shrugs.

“Never met Him,” he says. Michael raises his eyebrows.

“Well, who kicked you out?” he asks.

“Raphael.”

“Bet he enjoyed that.” Calum huffs out a laugh, sticking his finger in the ketchup and then in his mouth. Michael’s not sure whether he should be grossed out by the fact Calum’s eating pure ketchup, or turned on by the way Calum’s got his lips wrapped around his fingers, looking up at Michael through thick, black lashes.

“You’re disgusting,” he settles for, but it comes out weak, and a grin’s flashing across Calum’s face in a second.

“Only for you,” he says, with a wink. Michael rolls his eyes, and hopes the pink on his cheeks isn’t too obvious. He reaches for another one of Calum’s chips, and Calum’s eyes follow him. He looks like he’s weighing up whether or not he wants to say something.

“What’s He like?” he asks eventually, curiously.

“God?” Michael asks, and Calum nods. Michael swallows his mouthful of chips, and clears his throat. “He’s cool. Pretty laid-back guy. It’s the Son you want to watch out for.” Calum cocks an eyebrow in intrigue, and Michael nods. “Yeah, the Son’s got a proper stick up his ass. Never met anyone so uptight in my life.”

“Might be a side effect of crucifixion,” Calum suggests, and Michael snorts.

“Well, you know, there’s the whole Trinity thing,” Michael continues, “so He’s pretty strict when it comes to the Son. God, the Son’s so spoilt. You think Raphael’s bad, wait until you meet Jesus.” Calum snorts.

“Don’t think I’ll be meeting the Son anytime soon,” he says, and there’s something hard in his eyes and bitter in his tone. Michael frowns, but it’s gone as soon as Michael opens his mouth to ask.

“What about Hell?” he asks instead.

“What about it?”

“Well, what’s Satan up to nowadays?” A look of amusement flashes across Calum’s face.

“Oh, y’know,” he says. “Same old.”

“Being the proudest motherfucker around?” Calum laughs, eyes twinkling, and Michael has the feeling he’s said something much funnier than he intended to.

“You could say that,” Calum says.

“He still funny?” Michael asks. “Heaven’s way more boring without him. He was the only one with a fucking sense of humour.” Calum’s eyes glitter with mirth.

“I’d say so,” he says, grinning.

“Well,” Michael says, a little awkwardly, because Calum’s finding this way funnier than it should be. “Give him my best.” Calum bursts out laughing.

“Will do, angel,” he says.

-------

God is nothing like humans think.

Okay, He’s a little like humans think - He’s got the beard - but that’s about it.

“Hey, Mikey,” God says, grinning at him when he knocks at the door. “How’s my favourite angel?” Michael rolls his eyes, shutting the door behind him.

“You’re not supposed to have favourites,” he tells God.

“I don’t,” God says, eyes twinkling. “But Raphael was listening.” Michael snorts, shaking his head, and God gestures at the seat opposite His desk, capping His pen as Michael sits down.

“You reinstating me as archangel?” Michael asks cheerfully. God sighs, giving him a serious look, and the smile slips off Michael’s face.

“You know, Jesus is still mad about the onion,” He says gravely. “You made Him look bad, which means you made me look bad.”

“You know I didn’t mean to do that,” Michael says, because He can see Michael’s intentions laid out in front of him, clear as day. “And you know I’m sorry.”

“I know,” God says. “So I am reinstating you. But don’t play around with the Son again.” Michael nods meekly, wings sagging a little.

“Thank you, Father,” he says. God waves His hand dismissively, grinning.

“You knew I was going to reinstate you,” He says.

“Ashton’s going to be pissed,” Michael says, and God chuckles.

“He knew too,” He says. “He thinks you get special treatment.” That fucker. And, yeah, whoops, Michael’s in the presence of the Lord, and isn’t censoring his thoughts. Whoops. Sorry. “Apology accepted,” He says, grinning.

Michael hesitates, then, because it reminds him of some things Calum’s said - you exercise your free will to swear, and the many different iterations of you’re the worst angel up there. God raises an eyebrow, motioning for Michael to ask.

“Why don’t you kick me out?” Michael blurts. God leans back in His seat.

“You want me to kick you out?” He asks. Michael shakes his head.

“But I- y’know,” Michael says, shrugging a little uncomfortably in the heat of His gaze. There’s nothing quite like the scrutiny of the Lord. “I swear. I blaspheme. I- uh.” He flushes, and God smirks as images of just what exactly Michael would like to do to Calum flash through his mind. Michael clears his throat. “I’m not exactly a model angel.” God looks at him, calculating, and Michael tries to resist the urge to fall to his knees.

“You use your free will exactly as I intended it to be used,” He says. “You do as you please with a pure heart, unwaveringly loyal to me. You never have your own interests above mine.”

“Even when I blaspheme?” God looks at him for a moment, and then smiles.

“Even when you blaspheme,” He says gently. “You’d do well to remember my omniscience, Michael. Raphael may think obsequiousness is the way into my good books, but that was the reason I gave you free will. I knew some would use it for wrong, I knew some of you would use it to serve me blindly, but you’re the only one who’s ever used their free will as I intended, and the only one I’d ever want at my right-hand side.” Michael has to drop his gaze, can’t meet the holy power shining from His eyes.

“Thank you, Father,” he says again, and he hears the awe in his own voice. Jesus Christ, he sounds like a human. God snorts at that.

“Yeah, you do,” He says. “Now, go and tell Raphael you’ve been reinstated. I’ve seen how it plays out, and you’re going to love it.”

“Can I tell him I’m your right-hand angel?” Michael says hopefully, and God laughs.

“The fuck you can,” He says, eyes twinkling, and laughs again as Michael gawps at Him. “Oh, you think you’re the only one who can swear in here?”

Yeah, Michael should have seen that one coming.

-------

The next time Michael sees Calum, he’s with Luke again. It’s the middle of the night, and they’ve both cast glamours, whispering to each other in a dormitory in a hostel in Prague. Luke’s pointing at something across the room, and Michael silently casts his own glamour, sauntering over to them nonchalantly in the hopes of picking up what they’re talking about.

“...the right side of the room, you take the left,” Luke says, gesturing to the other side of the room.

“For what?” Michael asks, and both Calum and Luke jump, eyes instinctively turning black and baring their teeth. They both relax when they see who it is, though.

“Can you let us have one night of fun?” Calum says, sighing.

“Depends,” Michael says. “Does ‘fun’ involve fucking with the humans?” He indicates the ten people sleeping soundly in the room, and both Luke and Calum hesitate.

“Well, yes, but-” Luke begins.

“No can do,” Michael says smoothly, and Calum scowls at him.

“You ever get tired of being a boring cunt?” he asks, and Michael can’t help but laugh.

“What are you up to?” he asks.

“Unplugging people’s phone chargers,” Luke answers, eyes gleaming. “They’re all going to wake up with thirty percent charge. Some of them might even miss their alarms.” He sounds so fucking pleased with himself. Michael rolls his eyes.

“What are you, three hundred?” he says, and he opens his mouth to make another scathing remark, but is interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. He whips around in surprise, because who the fuck can see through his glamour, to find Ashton standing there, looking equally surprised to see him.

“Oh,” Michael says, turning back to Calum, who looks bewildered, and Luke, who looks shocked. “This is my superior. Although, actually, that’s not true anymore, is it?”

“You get demoted too?” Calum asks Ashton sympathetically. Ashton sends Michael a glare, and shakes his head tightly. Calum looks back at Michael, who’s grinning widely.

“No way,” he says incredulously. “You got reinstated?”

“He always gets reinstated,” Ashton mutters.

“Jealousy’s not a good look you, Ash,” Michael tells him sweetly, and Ashton scowls at him.

“Ashton,” Luke says suddenly. Ashton’s eyes slide over to him, something unreadable in his expression.

“Yes,” he says, a little tightly. Michael frowns. What the fuck is Ashton’s deal with Luke? He’s just a harmless fucking demon. He’s about to start unplugging people’s phones, for God’s sake. Not exactly the kind of criminal mastermind Ashton usually descends for; the last time Ashton had come down had been for Attila the Hun.

“Huh,” Luke says, a little smile unfolding on his lips. “You’re still fucking hot.” Michael’s eyes widen, and Calum chokes on his next breath, disguising it badly as a cough.

“You know him?” Michael asks in disbelief. Luke grins, eyes glittering, and waves his hand. Michael watches as all the phone chargers in the room simultaneously unplug themselves and fall to the floor, and his jaw drops. No demon should be able to do that. Calum wouldn’t even be able to unplug two chargers at the same time.

“Cal didn’t tell you?” Luke says sweetly. “Luke’s short for Lucifer.”

-------

For want of a better phrase, all hell had broken loose as soon as the words had left Luke’s lips.

Ashton and Michael’s wings had flown out, in warrior mode without a second’s hesitation, and Calum and Luke had responded in kind, growling, eyes black, teeth bared.

“I knew it,” Ashton had hissed, holy light rolling off him so brightly it even almost hurt Michael’s eyes. Calum had shrunk back, but Luke had been unperturbed. “The minute I saw that picture, I knew it was you.” Luke had grinned, all sharp teeth and gleaming black eyes.

“You think about me that often?” he’d said.

“Of course I fucking think about you,” Ashton had spat, and Michael had stopped short, stared at him.

“Did you just fucking swear?” he’d asked.

“Not really the point, Michael,” Ashton had said through gritted teeth.

“Man, you’re not the only angel to swear?” Calum had said to Michael.

“He never swears,” Michael had told him, bewildered.

“These are special fucking circumstances,” Ashton had snapped, and the power in his voice had made Calum stumble back a few steps.

“Look,” he’d said carefully, when he’d regained his footing. “Michael’s an archangel, you’re...whatever the fuck you are, and Luke’s the Devil. All I’m seeing here is I’m going to come out bottom if this comes down to a fight. Why don’t we take this somewhere else?” They’d all hesitated, tense and poised, none of them willing to be the first to give in, until Calum’s gaze had flickered to Michael, a pleading note in his brown eyes.

And really, who’s Michael, archangel of the Lord, to say no to petty demon Calum?

“Fine,” Michael had said, folding his wings, and after a moment’s hesitation, Ashton had followed suit. Luke had taken a moment longer, until Calum had nudged him pointedly, and then he’d folded his sleek black wings in too.

That’s how they’ve ended up here, in a McDonald’s that’s open all night. They’re huddled in a booth, too close for comfort, Calum and Luke on one side, Michael and Ashton on another.

“So,” Michael says awkwardly, cutting into the uncomfortable silence, because someone has to be the first to speak. “Sorry about, y’know. The war, and all that.” Luke snorts.

“Water under the bridge,” he says, waving a hand dismissively, but his eyes don’t stray from Ashton. “You were always my favourite angel.” Ashton flinches at that.

“What’s the fucking deal here?” Calum demands, and Michael’s silently grateful that he’s not the one who had to ask the question and risk getting publicly reamed out by Ashton. “How do you two know each other?” Luke grins, still gazing at Ashton.

“You wanna tell them, or should I?” he says, and Ashton stiffens. “I guess I should, huh? It is my story, after all.”

“Fucking spit it out already, Luke,” Calum says. Luke raises his eyebrows at Ashton, and then finally tears his gaze away.

“Ashton’s the reason I fell,” Luke says. Michael feels his jaw drop.

“What?” he says, at the exact same time as Calum.

“How?” Michael demands.

“What the fuck?” Calum says.

“What happened?”

“What did he do?”

“Hang on, I thought you fell because of pride,” Michael interrupts, jabbing a finger at Luke. Luke shakes his head.

“I fell because I loved someone more than I loved Him,” he says, and then nods at Ashton. Michael blinks.

“Sorry,” he says after a moment, shaking his head. “Not sure I’m getting this.”

“Yeah,” Calum chimes in. “Sounds like you’re saying you and Ashton were, like...a thing?”

“That’s what he’s saying,” Ashton says.

“You- hang on,” Michael says, holding his hands up. “You, Ashton, angel who tells me off for even thinking about blaspheming, dated the Devil?” Ashton nods curtly.

“Nah,” Calum says, shaking his head, “sorry, not having it.” Michael has to agree with that. No way did Ashton date Satan.

“Wait,” he says suddenly. “No, this doesn’t make any sense. Why do you look different?” Luke shrugs.

“Changed it up,” he says. “You get a much more exciting range of powers when you’re not confined by His morals.” He grins, and looks back at Ashton. “Ashton still recognised me, though, didn’t he?” Michael stares at Ashton.

“You dated Satan?” he asks, and Ashton nods. “You never thought to fucking tell me?”

“What was I supposed to say, Mike?” Ashton says.

“Oh, I don’t know, hey, Michael, sorry about all those times I slammed you against a wall for swearing, turns out I dated the fucking Devil?” Michael suggests, slightly hysterical. None of this makes any fucking sense.

“You slam him against walls?” Calum asks, sounding intrigued. “Huh. Shame. I won’t get to be the first.” Michael scowls at him.

“Are you serious?” he demands. “I find out Ashton dated the literal Devil, and you want to make innuendos? What are you, an incubus?” Calum grins at him.

“Might be,” he says.

“Could make you one, if you wanted to be,” Luke offers.

“If you’re Satan, why the fuck are you messing around with people’s phone chargers and gluing coins to footpaths?” Michael says. Luke shrugs.

“Being annoying is way more fun than being evil,” he says. Michael stares at him, because yeah, that does actually sound like something Lucifer would say. But Lucifer also didn’t fucking date Ashton.

“You two didn’t date,” Michael says, shaking his head. “That’s just- that’s just not true.”

“I can’t lie, Michael,” Ashton reminds him, and Michael bites his lip, because it’s true, he can’t, but he also didn’t fucking date the Devil.

“So,” Luke continues, like this whole interlude hadn’t even happened, spreading his hands. “Turns out I loved Ashton more than he loved me. I get cast out, he doesn’t follow, cue thousands of years of warfare.” And actually, that’s a point.

“You let me fight that war,” Michael says tightly, rounding on Ashton. “You let me lead that. You let me lead angels, your brothers, into battle to die, and you could have stopped it all along.” Ashton puts his head in his hands.

“I couldn’t,” he says miserably. “I couldn’t force myself to love Lucifer more than I love Him.”

“Man, this is like a fucking soap opera,” Calum puts in, leaning back in the booth with a grin on his face.

“I’m glad someone’s fucking enjoying themselves,” Michael snaps, and Calum holds his hands up in defence.

“I’m a demon, dude,” he says. “I kind of get off on chaos.” He pauses, and then adds: “So do you, actually, don’t fucking lie. You said the tattoo was funny.”

“That’s exactly why I’m so worried about you, Michael,” Ashton says. “You abuse your free will. I don’t want you to fall, too.” Michael rolls his eyes.

“Ash, if I were going to fall, it’d would’ve happened a long fucking time ago,” he says. Ashton shoots him a look.

“You’ve never been as close as you are now,” he says bluntly, eyes flicking to Calum.

“Oh, c’mon, I want to fuck a demon, so what?” Michael says. “You actually fucked the Devil, and you’re still up there.”

“You want to fuck me?” Calum interrupts, and Michael rolls his eyes.

“Dude, of course I want to fuck you,” he says. Calum looks at him for a moment, and then his face splits into a self-satisfied grin.

“Don’t blame you,” he says. “I am pretty fucking sexy.”

“Not the moment, Calum,” Michael says warningly, and it’s Calum’s turn to roll his eyes, but he doesn’t retort.

“He’s not going to fall, Ash,” Luke says, and there’s something gentle and reassuring in his tone that doesn’t really sit well with Michael’s idea of Satan. “Trust me. He’ll never love anyone more than he loves Him.” Calum’s grin drops at that, and Michael tries to ignore the unpleasant flip in his stomach.

“You don’t know that,” Ashton says. “You haven’t seen how he uses his free will.” Michael hesitates.

“I spoke to God about it,” he says, after a moment of dithering. “I- look, I can’t tell you what He said, but we’re on the same page.” Ashton throws him a sceptical look. “Come on, Ash, am I going to lie to you about what He said in front of Him?” Ashton hesitates, and then deflates.

“No,” he says reluctantly. “But-”

“No, I’m not taking any more fucking criticism from you,” Michael interrupts, pointing a finger at him, “ever. You dated the Devil. I’m going to swear to fucking God-” he relishes the way Ashton flinches at that “-and I’m going to fuck Calum, and there’s absolutely fucking nothing you’re going to say about it.” Ashton opens his mouth, and then closes it again, and Michael gets a rush of satisfaction almost as strong as when he’d told Raphael he’d been reinstated as archangel, again.

“Fine,” Ashton mutters. Luke shoots him a look somewhere between concern and amusement, and Michael tries not to think about the fact that Satan seems to at least somewhat care about Ashton, instead lapsing into an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes until Calum clears his throat.

“So, Michael,” he says hopefully, breaking the tension. “We were gonna fuck?”

-------

Just because Michael and Calum are fucking now doesn’t relieve Michael from his duties, as God kindly but firmly reminds him when he goes to ask about whether this is, like, even permitted.

(“You know where I stand,” God had said. “Love no one more than me.”

“For you are a jealous God,” Michael had muttered, and God had grinned.

“Exactly.”)

He’s begged Calum to stop fucking around, but Calum seems to think it’s even funnier now that they’re whatever the fuck they are, uses it as a fucking booty call. His ideas are getting more and more ludicrous - he’d gone to someone’s house and put tiny holes in all of their socks, for God’s sake - just to call Michael down for a quick fuck.

So when Michael hears that Calum’s caused a ten-car pileup on a motorway in England, he’s a little concerned.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Calum says, aiming for light-hearted and missing, not even looking up when Michael sits down next to him on the overbridge.

“That’s all in your hands,” Michael says, looking out at the (pretty impressive) traffic jam Calum’s caused. “Damn, dude. Bad day?” Calum huffs out a laugh, but it’s humourless.

“Yeah, guess so,” he says moodily. Michael hesitates. On the one hand, Calum’s a demon, and even though they’re physically intimate, Michael’s not supposed to emotionally care about him. On the other hand, Michael’s an angel, so caring is kind of in his nature, and something about Calum just draws Michael in.

“Wanna talk about it?” he says eventually, gently. Calum shrugs.

“Nothing you can do about it,” he says.

“I can listen,” Michael says. “Angel, remember? I do a lot of listening.” Calum snorts.

“What are you angel of?” he asks.

“Healing,” Michael says.

“You heal broken hearts?” And, oh. Okay. Michael swallows. He shouldn’t care about that as much as he does. It shouldn’t matter to him that someone that isn’t Michael has broken Calum’s heart.

“I can try,” he says, aiming for jovial, but it falls flat. Calum sighs.

“Remember that dude who wrote that play about the people who couldn’t be together?” he says, kicking his legs out. Michael frowns. “You know, the one set in Italy? Couple of centuries ago?” Michael frowns, and Calum rolls his eyes. “C’mon, man, you know who I’m talking about. Ro- Roleo? No, wait, Romeo? Romeo and Juliet, that’s the one.”

“...Shakespeare?” Michael says.

“Yeah, him,” Calum says in relief.

“What about him?”

“Didn’t he write the whole star-crossed lovers thing?” Michael raises his eyebrows.

“You remember that, but not Shakespeare’s name?” he says. Calum scowls, but it’s half-hearted.

“My point is,” he says, and then he stops, and kicks his feet out again.

“Your point is?” Michael prompts. Calum sighs, and stares down at the cars.

“You ever feel like that?” he says gloomily. Michael follows his gaze.

“Like a traffic jam?” he asks slowly. Calum rolls his eyes.

“Like we’re star-crossed lovers,” he says, and oh.

Oh.

Oh, fucking hell.

“Calum,” Michael says carefully, and Calum sighs again.

“I know,” he says, before Michael can continue. “You don’t fucking care about me, whatever. It just fucking sucks.” He laughs humourlessly, and then adds: “You think He’d ever let me back in?” Michael dithers on that for a moment, before deciding to go for the truth.

“I don’t think so, Cal,” he says gently. “You wouldn’t be able to love Him more than anyone else.”

“Is that such a fucking crime?” Calum says bitterly. “That I have the capacity to love with thought, with intention, not just blindly?”

“No,” Michael says kindly. “It just means you’d make a shitty angel.”

“You’re a shitty angel,” Calum says.

“I am,” Michael agrees. “But I’ll also never love anyone more than Him.” Calum deflates, and shit, are those tears? Can demons even cry?

“What the fuck are we even doing then, Michael?” Calum asks flatly. Michael sighs.

“I do care about you, Cal,” he says. “A lot. I should have killed you the first time I met you, but I couldn’t. There’s something about you, I just…” he trails off. “Look, it’s complicated. I do care about you. I’ll just never love you more than I love the Lord.” Calum stares at the traffic below them.

“But you could love me?” he says to the cars. Michael nods.

“Easily,” he says. Calum bites his lip.

“I could be second best?”

“You already are second best.” Calum’s brow creases, like he’s trying to make some kind of decision.

“Okay,” he says eventually. Michael frowns.

“Okay?” Calum shrugs, and the wicked gleam is back in his eyes, just like that.

“You know what they say,” he says, grinning. “First the worst, second the best.” Michael rolls his eyes, hard.

“You really gonna have a breakdown and end it like that?” he says sceptically.

“Demon, dude,” Calum reminds him. “Not really keen on serious.”

“You sure you’re not, like, a poltergeist?” Michael says, and Calum shoves him off the overbridge. Michael squawks, wings unfolding so fast he thinks he might have sprained something, and he hits Calum upside the head with his left wing as he sets himself back down next to him. “You’re a fucking arsehole, you know that?”

“And proud,” Calum tells him, and then sobers again.

“What?” Michael prods. Calum sighs, and holds his hand out, fingers spread, for Michael to hold.

“I don’t want you to fall for my sake,” he says.

But, as Michael laces his fingers through Calum’s and stares at the cars under their feet, he thinks: would that be such a bad thing?

#malum #lashton #5sos fic #5sos slash #5sos fanfiction #im so tired i will rsvp to messages tomorrow im sorry xx #holyverse

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bethd0456 · 3 years

Note

hellooo lovely! i loved reading your response to my last ask - apparently tumblr is messing up my asks bc a lot of them haven’t been going through :( but let’s hope this one does! i’ve been seeing that you watch cherry magic, and it’s one of my favourite shows at the moment!! 💘 who’s your favourite character? mine is kurosawa personally, i relate so much to him and his gayness. also udon chan, the cutest little cat! what did you think of the last ep, wasn’t it so cute!!! (1/2)

i hope you’re doing well!!! i also wanted to ask what your favourite shows and ships are! i already have a vague idea formulating just by browsing through your blog and over our shared love of cherry magic, but i’d looove to hear your thoughts and your favourites!! wishing you the bestest day! 💘 - your secret santa (2/2)

Hiiiii!!!! I hope life is treating you well!

Omg I'm so glad you enjoyed reading it! I hope you're ready for this MASSIVE answer and you don't get too bored reading this one!

CHERRY MAGIC!!!!!! It instantly became a comfort show for me, as it did for many others!

ADACHIADACHIADACHIADACHI. Adachi is 100% my fave. I never fully understood what a comfort character was. I was like, "yeah! I love Tine also!" But. Adachi is the definition of comfort for me. I see so much of myself in him! Everyone sees him and is like "babie. Must protecc." And honestly? Me too. How can one character be so damn CUTE??!?!? One of my favourite moments is him seeing Kurosawa after the almost-kiss. He just like, sees him, and gets so panicked 🥺 the way his arms just flail about makes me smile like an idiot.

But like, on a deeper level, this drama makes me believe I'm worthy of love. The idea that someone like Kurosawa could be THAT infatuated with you, even though you're an awkward virgin lmao. The point of watching these dramas is to get lost in a story, right? See a situation you want so badly but you know will never realistically happen? The entire premise of the show is just really enticing to me. I am Adachi, Adachi is me. Also, the thing he said in ep6 about not having a clear dream in life? Yeah. I felt that. I'm so envious of people who have passions they work so hard for, it gives them a form of purpose. Like Adachi, sometimes I feel like I'm living in a "daze". I feel like I don't really have any specific passions or skills that I want to develop into a career. Sometimes I just wish I had ambition. Adachi makes me feel so seen and like I'm not the only person who feels like this. The kinds of characters that usually make good protagonists are characters with a clear goal/passion. In most shows this obviously really works, but I can never relate to them personally. It's really special for me to see a character who's similar to me in this way.

Kurosawa is such an amazing character too!!!!! His gay little heart 🥺 on another level, he's just so?? Respectful??? 7. YEARS. 7 years of pining and he holds himself back so well!! He's been waiting for this relationship for so long but is so patient, willing to take things slowly for Adachi. He flirts shamelessly (as he should) but never to the point where Adachi was too uncomfortable.

He cares so much about Adachi :(. But also, even before he liked Adachi, he could tell he was uncomfortable with the drinking thing, so he DOWNED the wine lmao. Clearly he's just a lovely person all round who's really socially aware.

As for other characters:

• Udon my baby!!!! The cutest cat ever!! I love animals sm :(((

• Tsuge's chaotic energy is iconic

• Minato a lovely little dance machine :))

• Rokaku deserves the world, my excitable kiss interruptor :(((

• Fujisaki my love! She's so soft and cute!! Also ace coded how iconic

I ADORED ep8!!! I LIVE for established Adasawa! Adachi coming out to Tsuge :((( I'm so proud of Adachi coming to terms with his feelings and being confident enough to share his relationship with his closest friend. Coming out is not easy and he did so well 🥺

Adachi and Tsuge are so useless bless them 😂 Kurosawa really said "well I guess I have to take these two socially awkward disasters under my wing." Adachi and Tsuge are such a chaotic duo, I love that they can communicate just by touching each other, and omg when Kurosawa said his name Tsuge was "wait maybe I know everything about you already" and if that isn't friendship idk what is

Also Kurosawa making up a poem in his head about Adachi???? Peak romance. Also iconic. I'M A SUCKER FOR HAND HOLDING SCENES SO I DIED. "I like him. I like him. I like him!!" HOW CUTE CAN YOU GET FJKHDSHSKSK

I also got another arm flailing moment when Kurosawa almost got the wrong idea about Adachi and Tsuge!! CAN ADACHI STOP BEING SO CUTE MY HEART CAN'T TAKE IT. How on earth his boyfriend is still alive I have no idea.

There are so many other shows and ships I love. I feel like I'll probably miss some, but here we go. These aren't rankings at all, just like, lists lol.

Show list:

1. 2gether

This show means so much to me. It was the first time I watched a bl week by week and it made it so much more special?? I valued scenes so much more than when I binge shows and they would like, look at each other and I'd have a heart attack. They made the first part of my quarantine bearable bc I always had something to look forward to every Friday. I actually really enjoyed quarantine overall as an introvert (not to be insensitive about the literal deaths the pandemic has caused), but I really enjoyed constantly thinking about how long it was until Friday. I'm massively emotionally attached to all of the characters in this show you have no idea. Every single one. The found family of it all,, the way all of the characters have relationships. Still2gether did a phenomenal job of showcasing all of the unexpected but very welcome dynamics and relationships, platonic and romantic alike. I could blabber about this show for so long I'll spare u for now

2. YYY

Is it well written? No. Did I enjoy it anyway?? You know it! I told you how much I love the found family trope. UGH. THIS FAMILY. Also, seeing the feminine side of the LGBT+ community represented positively warmed my heart. There needs to be more bls that do that! Celebrate femininity!! There's nothing wrong with being camp as fuck! It's so much fun!!! This show made me so happy :))

3. Start up

I'm currently obsessed. It's my first Kdrama and holy shit this is what the hype is about. The budget!! The acting! Top notch. On a sad note I really wish bls got that much funding behind them. My heart aches for a complicated story with fully developed characters and plotlines, that just happens to have a gay main couple/character. Wishful thinking for now at least. Anyways, I'm massively emotionally attached to Halmeoni and Jipyeong. Team Jipyeong all the way (even tho Dalmi's obviously gonna end up with Dosan, and I'm happy for them!). All I need is a happy ending for my darling Jipyeong. Please give him one. Also, if anything happens to Halmeoni I will WEEP.

4. Cherry magic is obviously here but I've ranted about that enough already 😂

5. 3 will be free

I would never have expected gmm to make a series like this! But they went and did THAT. Wild. It was such a healthy representation of a poly relationship. The themes of feminism were so well handled and powerful, the chemistry was off the CHARTS, I was hooked from start to finish! Time for a rewatch? I think so.

6. Feel good

Not an Asian drama, but still gay as FUCK. It's written by my wife Mae Martin who also stars in it, and I have to say, it blew me away. Story time!! My friend irl recommended it to me without saying it was Mae, so I was like "okay sure I'll put it on my to watch list I guess" without much motivation to watch it. But as soon as I found out it was Mae I watched it and I've never looked back lol. Once I finished I sent my friend a splurge of messages about my feelings. The series touches on issues like addiction, sexuality and gender. "I'm not a boy. I'm not even a girl. I'm like a failed version of both." That shit HURT.

There's a scene near the end which has really stayed with me. So Mae's character is a comedian and she does a set making jokes about the stuff that happened in the series and oh my GOD. The way I CRIED. It made me realise that people who make jokes about their experiences are using humour as a coping mechanism and when people say "Haha I have daddy issues isn't it funny" we have to remember to be respectful. It's never okay to make jokes about someone else's trauma. Don't make a big deal of it but just don't be a dick.

Anyways I could go on but would 100% recommend this series!

7. HIStory 2 crossing the line

My first bl! This series is the reason I'm so obsessed with bl lmao. The main couple are so soft :( this little series will always hold a special place in my heart!

8. Sotus

My first gmm series, we've come a long way. I miss Kong and Arthit :(

9. Dark blue kiss

Such a brilliant series. I trust P'Aof (director) with my life. This series touches on issues that are so important and deserve to be talked about so much more in bls. This is what happens when you let LGBT people tell LGBT stories! They do it with such care and love!! One of my favourite lines is "I may like men, but I'll never like your brother." One of my biggest let peeves is "I don't like men, I only like x." Like, I get the business behind it, they don't want to make the character gay to make them available for girls to fantasise about. Which is disgusting. But Mork really said "no. ❤" and I LOVE IT.

10. The shipper

I could go on and on about how underrated I think this series is. This series took over from 2gether on Fridays, and while I didn't think about this series constantly like I did with 2gether, this series made my quarantine brighter. Fridays meant I was gonna laugh at least once and forget about life just for a short while. The humour in this series is so fucking dumb lmao, but I'm here for it.

I've seen people talk about the shipper as a bl but I disagree. I think it's better described as a series with bl aspects. The main themes are friendship, family, dealing with loss, respecting boundaries of people you admire, and one of the main messages is about making sure the people close to you know how much they mean to you. Don't get me wrong, the majority of the series is over the top humour, but by the end of it I was personally really attached to the characters and their feelings. Overall I really enjoyed this series but I don't see anyone properly talk about it :(

11. Gaya sa pelikula

A series made by gay people for gay people. Shows like this are so important. This show really healed my soul with how brilliant the representation was :(( "remember we talked about microagressions" the way that means Vlad is constantly educating Karl about LGBT stuff, UGH. SO GOOD. Also this show has the most realistic representation of a crush I've ever seen lmao, soft Vlad is the best Vlad.

12. My engineer

My happy little Saturday show :( I miss the shit writing, shit acting and soft story of this series so much. I'm so fond of this series, I watched it after the horrible ep12 of 2gether and it really made me happy. I'm looking forward to season 2, but Ramking's novel goes DOWNHILL from here on. I know tricreation wouldn't allow the final chapter's scenes, but the entire story is so problematic and unenjoyable :(. The only valid scene is King's coming out scene but that's literally it. And the collar scene can stay lmao.

13. Oxygen

Another soft saturday series! I love this series so much, all of the couples are so bloody healthy and it makes me so happy. The communication is amazing!! THIS is how you show healthy relationships!!!

14. The gifted

S1 was so amazing!! I loved all of it! The only part of s2 we'll talk about is timegracethird. Time best boy!! Grace a feminist queen! When future Grace said they would be friends for a long time that made me so happy :(( also pangwave canon

15. Until we meet again

So I talked about the healthy relationships in oxygen. But uwma really showed the healthiest relationship ever. DeanPharm are just the softest little humans :( I would die for Pharm. He's the closest I got to a comfort character before Adachi. I just have to PROTECT HIM. My motherly instincts really kick in when I see him lmao.

The storyline of this series is just breathtaking. And the ending? I don't think I've ever cried that much. At all. It was so fucking beautiful 🥺

16. My gear and your gown

I really liked this show! Honestly I don't think I'll ever rewatch it but I definitely enjoyed it. The way Pai just seemed to breathe freely for the first time when his parents accepted his sexuality :(((( my baby :( also purefolk were brilliant

Ship list:

1. Saratine

These two are the definition of romance. They mean the fucking world to me. The fact that their story is apparently gonna be continued in some form makes me so. So. Happy. I cannot begin to describe it. My bet is on a special episode and ugh I'm so EXCITED.

2. Aini

Thonhonchonlatee in general is enjoyable but I don't like Thon at all. It's such a shame bc I was so excited for Khaotung and Podd to be in a series together :((. BUT. Aini have grabbed my heart. I knew they would bc miketap are brilliant, but wow. They're so gay my little babies :( miketap are just so natural and comfortable to watch. I love their chemistry so muuuuuuch

3. Sunmork

Coffee boyfriends :( I miss them so bloody much

4. Ramking

One of my fave ships. As I mentioned, I'm apprehensive about s2, but s1 ramking is such a beautiful story. It's just about 2 boys falling in love, no complications. Plant boy who's afraid of dogs falls in love with quiet boy who loves dogs but is afraid of children. Iconic. Also chemistry outsold, I THINK ABOUT THE KISS CONSTANTLY. When I mentioned the acting is shit in this series (shit is harsh, I mean awkward), I did not mean Perth and Lay in the slightest. They really nailed their roles and I loved it.

5. Professor Layton x Claire

You 100% won't get this reference but I grew up with the Professor Layton games and holy shit do they hold up. They're so amazingly written with beautiful stories and the most lovable characters in the world. Layton's intellect, loving nature and surprising athleticism are admirable. Adachi is the character I relate to most, but if I was gonna choose a character to comfort me irl, Layton's your man. His voice is so comforting by nature. I'm blabbering at this point but the point is him and Claire are the only het pairing that matters.

These are just the ships that I felt should be separate from their shows. I love all of the ships from the shows I mentioned.

Oof this got horrifically long, I haven't had a proper chance to rant about most of these shows so I really let it out lol. I hope you've watched at least some of these shows and I didn't just rant to u about 12 shows you've never heard of 😂

I hope you have a wonderful day love!!!!

#secretsanta'20

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wakandascrystal · 5 years

Text

ᴅᴇꜱᴛɪɴʏ ᴇʀɪᴋ x ʙʟᴀᴄᴋʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

a/n : i wrote this at 3 am, please ignore any errors, will fix up later

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

You really did not want to be here.

The air was cold and you were hangry and the girls you were with were so focused on taking pictures they didn't even noticed you had turned your back on them. You didn't feel comfortable in the black and white one piece Miny had put you in. You wanted the mini dress you had packed that would cover your stretch marks and other problem areas but she bullied you out of it. Okay bully is a strong word. Miny just wished you had more confidence in yourself.

But that confidence was not going to start in the middle of the Puerto Rico with a tight one piece on. You didn't know the other 3 girls they were Miny’s friends and you didn't hit it of with them the whole 5 days and 4 nights. They didn't get your humour or hospitality. You didn't like how frequent they commented on your dark skin like it was some kind of disorder you had and that you are so brave to be living your life with it and it seemed like Miny was more their friend on this trip then yours. She only showed you love when you were just about to to leave. They were loud, obnoxious and self centered. You quickly learned that but there were 2 days and 1 night left. You were going to stomach it and try to enjoy yourself.

“Okay that's it. I'm going to eat. Im starving.“ you got up and pulled the bunched up material out of your ass.

“What are you talking about. we still taking pic for the gram....anyways you're the one who keeps complained about being fat“ Tiff said while she carried on posing

Your heart dropped

“I know... it's just that its been 6 hours. If i dont eat something i'll faint. just carry on i'll be back.”

You wrap yourself around with your towel you were ripped from before the photoshoot situation.

You left the rented yacht with your wallet and ordered some fish and chips. Sat on the balcony and ate were the girls wouldn't see you.

You were 24 years old and it still felt like high school. Made to feel different and odd. You wanted to leave and go home to your warm bed and your book and read up on african legends and how they used to rule the African plains. You were intrested in weird things and you didn't really fit in. You wanted to see your real friends who didn't judge you and throw your insecurities in you face every 5 seconds but that wasn't going to happen tonight.

“Y/N come bitch we're going to the club the one down the road. Get your black ass here. We need to get changed.“ You sighed lifting yourself of the bench and throwing away your trash away.

Back at the hotel you decided on a red sparkly dress but when you left your room to fix your hair in the bathroom Tiff was wearing the same one.

“Is that what you're wearing“ Cam asked sarcastically

“Shut your ass up... if that's what she wants leave her“ Miny defended you.

“Nah its just that ...you know Tiff wore it first. Thats all im saying “ Cam carried on fixing her braids

“What's the problem. It will be like yall twins or someshit.“

“Dont fuck with me Miny I look nothing like her.“

You bit your lip. It was a coping mechanism. if you felt a greater pain then the words wouldn't hurt.

“I'll change. Its okay.“

You left the crowded bathroom for your bedroom and practically ripped the dress off. You took a deep breath and you changed into a off shoulder black bodycon. You looked good but you didn't feel good. You paired it up with your black Fila’s. You did a light beat and a strong liner and lashed up and waited for the girls to finished. You were a bit over walmed when they joined you. They looked good. even you could admit that. You didn't bling yourself up like that. You looked simple. maybe even basic compared to them

At the club no one had gotten the memo that it was not a regular club club. It was a latin dance club. Like real Latin. Like out of a movie. People were dancing like it was strictly come dancing. The samba and the chacha, you name it. It was hot, so were the boy. The idea of getting drunk and going home with someone sounded amazing. You needed an outlet for the pent up frustration in your chest. But it seemed like no one was checking for you at the moment so maybe to get drunk first. You went to the bar and bought yourself a drink and a couple more. the girls joined you after they had danced a few times with some guys. You thought about asking a guy to dances with you but you didn't want to stoop to that level. That would have been to sad and rejection isn't something you're good at recovering from. So you drank some more.

“That was crazy. He almost swang my ass up into the roof“ Cam laughed while she tried to calm down

“I saw girl you almost died but i thought i was coming to throw my ass in a circle to some city girl but i like this too? Y/N you good? You been drinking since we been here“

“Oh me i'm okay I dont do well with heights.“ Miny laughed at your joke while the other 3 were confused.

“What the hell does height have to do with you being a bore?“

“She said that the guy almost through he into the roof and i'm afraid of heights. It was a joke Tiff. “

You shake your head and zoned out when they carried on talking amongst themselves. With your black straw in your mouth your eyes wounded around the bar area. Your eyes meet with a guy, you looked away. He was sitting about 4 stools away from you leaning back . You looked again and this time he smiled and you smiled back. He was handsome. 10000% out of your league but his smile was warm and cute. He had dreads and a tropical shirt on but most importantly he had dimples. Your one weakness. He nodded at you twice and you already knew the drill it wouldn't be the first time.

You turned to the Tiff who was next to you and tapped her shoulder.

“I think that guy is calling you?” You took a big sip from your straw again

“Which guy?“ she asked

“The one down the line.“ You specified.

You could see how big her eyes went when she realized who you were talking about. You saw how she flirted with her eyes and pushed her braids back with a big smile.

You wish you had that in you.

“They got nigga’s like this here ..let me go talk to zaddy”

She left the girls in pursuit of melanin, they spoke for a bit and you stole glances at them. If you couldn't get the guy at least you could live vicariously through the girls who would.

He's acting too cool. look at him not even smiling at her. How can you smile at me and not the girl you want. Fuck boys. they are everywhere. Girls like nice guys as well. oh my drink is almost finished. oh yes focus the handsome guy. oh wait she's coming back. she looks mad why?

“You must a blind bitch cause he was calling you“ She said through her teeth

“What do you mean. Why would he call me?“

“I was asking myself the same question? He didn't even give me the time of day? Did you take something of his?“

“No I was here the this whole time.“

“Well you must h-“ she stopped talking for a second then started panicking “oh shit he's coming here act natural ladies “

“Beautiful you gonna just ignored me and send you lil friend“ You blinked at him making sure you aren't dreaming.

“You still ignoring me baby girl.“ He cocked his head to the side

You were confused by the warm feeling in your chest and stomach.

“You can't call me Baby girl. i dont even know you...“ You shouted out the first thing on your mind. All 4 girls face palmed themselves

“Its cool. I get it Ma. Im Erik Steven and you are?“

“You want to know my name? Why?“ This had never happened to erik before. if he asked for a name he got it and most times even more.

“Why dont I we dance for a bit and maybe i'll tell you why?“ He extends his arm that was filled of what seemed like tribal markings. That fascinated you. You ran your hands over some that showed out his shirt but he didn't move his arm away.

“You like them Princess?”

“They are so....I study Ancient and Tribal African Studies and some tribes they .......they value a man who has these types of markings. Sort of like the more you have them the higher your ranking is in society. I've never seen anything like this before .Who are you Erik?”

Erik expected you to blush over them to seem edgy but he wasn't expect that type of analysis and that made him more intrested in you as well.

#Erik Killmonger #erik x reader #erik xreader #Erik #killmonger #killmonger fanfiction #black panther killmonger #black panther

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mothmansfriend · 4 years

Text

when i’m sad oh god i’m sad (pt. 2)

link to pt. 1

follows a very similar timeline to @tearxofink‘s fic Rules for a Functioning Alcoholic but will prob have differences (such as no established relationships) and takes place in @illogicallyinclined‘s hockey au after the mention of Remus possibly having undiagnosed bipolar disorder

update: i think its important to acknowledge roughly where this takes place in the big timeline bc D doesn’t really drink past freshman yr in this AU because of self preservation and trauma, alcoholism was more an issue before then in high school (when remus and d were Rowdy Boys) but the stress of Logan’s concussion lead to some heavy drinking that was caught quickly by Virgil because Remus Cannot Keep Secrets.

summary: Remus has undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder and is dealing with a severe depressive episode in the aftermath of realizing that binge drinking with D wasn’t just his own search to Feel Something, but was also D’s relapse into alcoholism. Remus comes to the realization of lost time during manic episodes and refuses help.

tw: graphic descriptions of a depressive episode, self harm (burning), suicidal thoughts, and suicidal intent (but not attempt). unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcohol abuse, mentioned alcoholism, undiagnosed mental illness, miscommunications on shared trauma, ask to tag if i missed any.

There are a number of places that are simply uncomfortable to sleep. Barely sitting up and using the chairs provided by the previous tenants as a pillow is certainly one of them. It takes Remus a moment to identify what woke him up as there's another round of knocking on his door and he doesn’t want to respond. It’s bright out,the sun is blocked from his figure by the curtains covering most of the windows. He hears Roman’s muffled voice as the locked doorknob jiggles, “See? I told you he’s not here, Virge. There’s nothing to be worried about, if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow I’ll go look for him. You know how he is”.

Their footsteps move away and Virgil speaks, “Can you text him? I’m just worried, Thomas said that-” his voice fades as they enter the kitchen.

Remus can barely pick himself off the floor before his phone lit up with a notification.

the shittier twin: You good? LMK when you’re coming home, Virgil is lowkey freaking out (received: 10:14)

He stares at the words willing his brain to focus as he decides, maybe he should reply.

He sends a photo of a fat pigeon he took outside a club him and D got kicked out of a few weeks ago. It would be clear that the picture was taken at a different time, but does get message of ‘I’m alive’ across. Which is about as much as Remus is willing to communicate to people that haven’t even tried to contact him before now. How sad is it that his twin brother didn’t even check on him until six days later. Or maybe he should be asking if it’s sad that after four days Roman still hasn’t noticed that he’s home, or that it took Roman six to even ask? Remus spends all this time in the theatre and in the arts studio, and still Roman was the only one to ask, though at the request of someone who wants to get mad at him. He considers if maybe that he is a bad person, and that isn’t something he normally would care about, but if he weren’t then people might have checked on him. He usually hangs out with D almost everyday and he swears he’s never been gone more than maybe four days. But no one else seems concerned at all.

He considers reasons why this might be and gets stuck on Roman’s comment that he hasn’t been gone that long, and the implications then of him being gone longer. Things that don’t really make sense, but he knows losing your train of thought and getting distracted is a part of ADHD, but maybe, this is much more concerning. How does he know that he’s only ever been gone so long, maybe those lapses are more than a few minutes of zoning out. Which leads to, does Remus know who he is during these lapses? The contrast between the two prince twins have always been clear in their behaviour, Roman who follows every word their parents whisper in his ear. The boy grew up to be an actor after years of who takes any command without thought at that chance to be on top, and revelled in praise. It’s the cowards way of survival, are you really living if you’re not you? He knows Roman wasn’t quite loving that, but he still complied. Remus has always known exactly who he is and who he always will be. But the uncertainty of who he is in those spaces that seem to be taking up more and more space, maybe he;s been following someones script too?

He’s constantly changing his mind and forgetting where he is, are his feelings his? If everything the thought he knew about himself is slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass than how does he make it stop?

—

Virgil slides into the recently empty chair next to Roman the second Patton gets up to ask the waitress for another round of coffee, he steals one of Roman’s sausages and speaks, “By the way, I’m catching a ride to your place with you and D”.

Roman squawks at the sausage thief, “Why? I already told you Remus isn’t home!”

Virgil rolls his eyes, “Yeah I know, just humour me. I went to talk to Joan before we left and Thomas said Remus texted to apologize for missing practice, he’s never done that before! I just wanna come check, you can make fun of me later or whatever.”

“Fine, whatever, I know you’d just show up anyway. I don’t think him texting Thomas means anything though, even if it is weird.”

“Well we can agree to disagree then.”

—

The entry to the apartment the Prince twins share with D was just as full of banter as expected. D and Roman irritating Virgil without effort but Virgil matching that with his own comebacks and determination to check on Remus. “Alright, Emo Knightmare, let’s go knock on his cave door so I can know you again, that he isn’t home” Roman drops his bag next to the couch and heads down the shared hallway of D, Remus, and the storage closet. D walks past him with comments of a essay due tomorrow and disappears. Roman walks down and knocks on the door sternly once maintaining eye contact with Virgil knowing there will not be a response. Virgil follows him and he knocks again after a moment and jiggles the knocked door handle. “See? I told you he’s not here, Virge. There’s nothing to be worried about, if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow I’ll go look for him. You know how he is.” Roman turns and leads them back out into the living room towards the kitchen.

Virgil pauses for a moment watching the door before he follows, “Can you text him? I’m just worried, Thomas said that he actually texted to apologize for not showing up today. You know when Remus is out he never remembers to charge his phone, it just seems weird.”

Roman exhales and wordlessly pulls out his phone shooting off a text to his twin before pulling some leftovers out of the fridge to offer to Virgil despite the fact they had eaten not long ago. Virgil accepts and he puts it on two plates for the microwave. Roman’s phone vibrates on the counter with a text. The emo leans over to read and snorts, “Wait, is Remus’s name actually ‘the shittier twin’ in your phone? He just send a picture of what appears to be an obese pigeon, that doesn’t answer my question at all!”

Roman shrugs, “Of course it is, and yeah that sounds about right, it’s like he’s trying to communicate through hieroglyphics, he’s just telling us he��s fine.”

Virgil’s dark eyes examine Roman’s face for any reflection that he’s just trying to make him stop bothering him with his concern, but when he sees nothing he drops his defensiveness, “Yeah, okay, he’s your brother, he’s kind of like a cat I guess. He always comes home right?”

The microwave beeps and Roman slides the extra plate in front of Virgil, “Exactly, he’s just like this, I’ll text you when he comes back. You don’t need to worry about it, Virge.”

Virgil shoots him a small smile before taking his plate to the couch closely followed by the oldest Prince twin as they settle down with Netflix until they need to leave for their respective classes.

—

Roman blearily wipes his eyes as he wakes up in his dark room and rolls over to check the time. 2:34am wake up and bathroom break time. He briefly considers just rolling over and waiting four or five hours until he needs to get up for class, but decides there’s just a higher chance of getting a restless sleep the rest of the night. The hockey captain rolls out of bed standing in his room shirtless and only wearing a random pair of soft sleep pants and stumbles out of his room, crossing the living room and entry way he’s about to try the handle of the dark bathroom door when it opens to reveal a tall dark figure.

Roman jumps back with an admittedly embarrassing squawk before recognizing the dark figure to be a freshly showered, exhausted, and almost weak looking Remus. The two stood in silence for a moment, Remus not even reacting to the sight of his brother. Roman awkwardly laughed for a moment, “Holy shit, Remus! I didn't even realize you were home.”

Remus stares emptily, moving to walk away without replying, Roman stops him with a hand on his shoulder, “Are you like, uh, okay? You kind of look like shit��

That was clearly the wrong thing to say as suddenly Remus’s face hardens into a snarl, “Oh fuck you, Roman.” His voice cracks halfway through but it doesn’t do anything to diminish the venom in his voice, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Christ! If you’re going to be an asshole then nevermind, I just wanted to check up on you. You know, like a concerned brother just might do?” Roman fires back suddenly feeling defensive. The tone of voice Remus uses almost sounds scared to him but he doesn’t have the energy to pry at Remus in the hallway less than 6 feet from D’s door at 2:30am.

“You don’t get to play any kind of concerned brother role right now! You don’t just get to decide to be concerned one day, it’s all about appearances with you, I dont fuck with that!” Remus’s voice raises as he gets more and more riled up, his voice sounds like shit as if he hasn’t used it in days, “Tell me when you think I got home, Princey, huh? You don't know shit about me and it’s time you stopped asking like you do.” He steps towards Roman edging back down the hallway to the living room.

“Why am I supposed to know when you got home?” Roman fires back, “You’re an adult! You’ve taken care of yourself fine for years, I’m not your parent I don’t need to know where you are twenty-four-fucking-seven!”

Vaguely, Roman hears D’s bedroom door open and feels brief regret that was smashed by Remus shoving him backwards. “You don’t need to know! But, did you ever think to wonder? Did you ever once care enough to ask? No! I don’t remember ever being gone more than three or four days.”

Roman recoils for a second in confusion but counters standing his ground, “What does that fucking mean? You own a calendar, a phone, you should know your average in the last year has been like five to seven days, you can’t blame me that you decide to go on a bender every 6 months or less. Can’t you ever grow up?”

“It means I don’t know where I was for two to four of those days at least! You self absorbed prick! Fuck!” Remus crumples for a second, his facial expression looks so, lost. He violently grabs and tugs on his still damp hair. He stands back up face guarded once again. “I know I never go out without a plan, I have paid some fucking terrible prices for that that you never need to know about. But, you’re telling me that I was out there and I don’t remember it? And no one thought to mention anything to me? And you’re asking if I’m ‘okay’? Fuck that, fuck you. I’m going back to my room, and ideally I’ll fucking rot and die before I have to look at you again,” Remus seethes before turning and slamming his door without waiting for a response.

Roman sags at his brothers exiting remarks, making tentative eye contact with D who waits in the dark hallway. “I don’t know what to do,” Roman says quietly.

D moves towards him moving them to the couch offering a comforting touch to the remaining twin, “Roman, I cannot tell you that I have any idea about what just happened. But, it seems like he just wants you to be there for him, in his own weird displays of affection he does love you and I think maybe he’s scared sometimes that you don’t care for him, and he lashes out. But right now, you need to go back to sleep so you can go to your boring nine am lecture, and I’ll try to spend time with him tomorrow. Sound good?”

Roman examines D, letting himself feel vulnerable for a moment but trusts that D knows what to do. He’s known the twins since high school, if anyone knew it would be him. “Thank you, D” Roman whispers, leaning into the little affection for a moment before he stands up and moves them back down the hallway.

Roman goes to the bathroom as originally planned but thinks about the things his younger brother had said. How much is he missing? What does it mean for Remus to simply not remember days at a time? Is it because of drinking too much or something else?

As Roman tucks himself back into bed, preparing himself for the restless sleep he had been trying to avoid. His mind wanders, and he can’t help but think that maybe he should be questioning blood stains on Remus’s carpet a little more.

#sanders sides angst #sanders sides #remus sanders #hockey au #university au #creativitwins #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus prince #roman prince #virgil fosc #bipolar disorder

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