#BOTH their ros are at the very end of the “what the fuck” scale this is going to be an excellent conversation for them to have

[sidesteppostinghours]

OHOHOHOHOHO. OHO. HO.

#just gonna #ship: the retiree committee #caine lynzal #BOTH their ros are at the very end of the “what the fuck” scale this is going to be an excellent conversation for them to have #archives readthrough

[apollo-gate]

Stolen ask: How would the ROs in relationship stage react if MC sent them a text saying "We need to talk", and then when the RO meets the MC the MC reveals that they want the RO to move in with them (or vice versa)?? (Love oblivious MC lol)

Wow, Anon you want to give some of them heart attacks.

Don't worry nothing wrong with borrowing an ask.

Alice hmm would be very surprised by this. Alice doesn't want to put her MC in danger but will discuss how to live together. (Alice will be screaming and jumping up and down on the inside. Happily.)

Helena would be so happy she might end up crying. "Mc, let's get someone to build a house or just renovate a penthouse."

Lisa would shift if not already and jump on top of you. You will discuss it for the rest of the day, with her in the MC's lap.

Becca would smirk "I got a place for us." She leaves to get the car. She sees you still standing there "Mc, are you coming. I've had this for three months."

Daniella would ask "are you sure MC?" after all it's not just her. But also her son. But she wants to do so badly after being alone for years.

Vanessa would at this point be confused "You are already at my place all the time." Her eyes widen "Oh do you mean like getting married. Jade can get us married like that."

Azalea's face twists "Well that's a conversation." You notice Azalea's scales start to darken on their chest. "Mc, you- I." Azalea's eyes are shining as they pull the veil off. "I want to, but we need to talk to the Empress."

Kent would be surprised to say the less. He doesn't talk for a while "Fuck it." He hugs you. "I had a place you might like, but I'm not sure. Just be honest."

Naamah would be beaming at this. Before they say a word they grab your hand. SNAP!! You are both in the cosmos. "So where should we stay at?"

Blaze would just stand speechless. Then smirks "Well I know an abandoned castle with a great view and a moat.

Zero tilts his head and takes out his teleporter. It opens he ushers you in. You see a house and several Robot attendants standing at attention. Zero signs that it's time he showed what his surprise was to you.

#anonymous #VanessaRO #ZeroRO #BlazeRO #NaamahRO #KentRO #AzaleaRO #DanielleRO #BeccaRO #LisaRO #HelenaRO #AliceRO

[shepherds-of-haven]

How involved would the ro’s be in the planning of their wedding to the mc? Who takes a backseat and lets the mc decide every aspect of the wedding and who wants a say?

Hmmm, good question!

Blade: I think he'd want to be involved in every major decision, but not necessarily in control. Like, he's fairly laidback when it comes to wedding stuff--he just wants to be married to MC--so the details don't matter as much to him. But if MC is picking a location, he'd like to be asked, or given a choice between their favorite two, or he'd like some input of his own beforehand so they can come to a decision together, although most of the time he'd defer to MC by the end anyway; but a unilateral takeover of all planning wouldn't work for him!

Trouble: I think he'd be a mix of laidback and excited; I think he'd be fine going along with pretty much anything MC wanted if they were really determined to do and decide everything themselves, but I think his true preference would either be doing it all together (picking out flowers or looking at venues together) or they would divide duties up equally and sort of surprise each other: like Trouble is in charge of the music, the food, and the bachelor party, MC is in charge of the venue and the ceremony, etc.!

Tallys: I think, if MC was more laidback and didn't much care about the details, Tallys would like to be the one calling the shots. At most, they would be doing everything together and actively being equal partners; she didn't think she cared much about weddings, but she's definitely not one to take a backseat for something like that, so she'd definitely want to be bringing her share of ideas and decisions to the table and wouldn't like it if the scales didn't feel balanced!

Shery: she's been planning her wedding since she was young, so she'd want to be heavily involved in the planning or would happily do absolutely everything, down to the last detail, if MC wanted her to. She'd want MC's input, of course, and it would definitely be more fun if they could do all that stuff together, but if MC was just like "eh, you do whatever you want" Shery would very happily take the reins without complaint. Or she'd happily compromise and decide everything equally, either one!

Riel: lol, control freak Riel is definitely not going to take a backseat during the planning of his own wedding... This is when his neurotic, demanding, perfectionist side really comes out, so MC had better buckle in! Because of his job, Riel is surprisingly civil and generally understanding when it comes to executing planning and stuff--he's not one of those bridezillas (husbandzillas?) who are throwing fits and screaming about how he ordered these streamers in CREAM, not OFF-WHITE--but he is pretty exacting. Like, he will make the workers do the streamers all over again until they're at exact, perfect angles. He just won't yell about it.

Chase: for the love of god, do not put him in charge of wedding stuff because that man is incapable of doing anything without intentionally introducing an element of chaos to the event. Like, releasing pigeons?? fuck no, they're going to shit everywhere!! (he didn't realize that pigeons are also different from doves) what about butterflies?? no, MC deserves better than some shitty bugs!! what about ancient younian silk worms that spray silk when they pop out like SILLY STRING--

Anyway, he's pretty chill and is happy to let MC call all the shots, but if he does get involved and given any free reign at all, madness is going to ensue at that wedding

Red: he'd definitely like a say in the planning and would definitely approach it as a 50/50 partners thing! He wouldn't like being relegated to the backseat, but he also wouldn't want to call all the shots on his own either! He'd regard the whole thing as a fun learning process that he'd want to do with MC together!

Ayla: eh, she doesn't really care, lol. If MC wants to take the helm, she'd very happily let them do so and just chill; but if MC wanted her to be equally involved, she'd muster her resolve and jump right in with them, even though she'd be somewhat confused (and overly frugal) the whole time. 200 deucalions just so the guests can have cushions on their seats?? let them sit on the wood, their asses are the cushions!!

Briony: she’d definitely be gung-ho and say she wanted to be the one in charge of planning and taking care of all the details, but she’d quickly find herself overwhelmed and broken down in tears! 😅Ideally, it would be a 50/50 split between her and MC, with both of them handling the decision-making and research together, but I could totally see her charging into it headfirst like “you don’t have to worry about a thing MC! I’ve got this! 😤💪” and then regretting her life choices shortly after...

Lavinet: she’s in charge. Sorry anyone who wanted to be the wedding planner, but you presumably knew what you were getting into when you married Lavinet... she’s in charge. she’ll give you like token tasks and decisions to feel like you’re equally contributed, but let’s be real. if it came down to a disagreement. who do you think would win in the end? she’s in the driver’s seat and she literally would not have it any other way...

#Shepherds of Haven #wedding #wedding planning #marriage #romance options #fluff

[thefossilwhale]

i filled out this super cool button character profile by @extraordinarymage for sabrina! thank you for making this, it was a lot of fun to fill out <3 the bulk of it is under a cut and oh boy is it long !!!

Short, Quick Reference

Name: Sabrina Wiseman

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Love Interest: Kent

Main personality trait: Confidence

Secondary personality trait: Morbidity

Relationship with Nick: Full of love, haunted by unaddressed guilt and frustration. But mostly full of love.

Nickname for Nick: Saint Nick (used sparingly)

Resentful or accepting?: Slightly resentful

Main strategy (interpersonal, insightful, innovative?): Insightful

Ethical or expedient?: Expedient

GENERAL

Name: Sabrina Larkspur Wiseman

Nickname(s): Sab, used by anyone; Sabby, only Nick and Sally; and, of course, Button for Nick.

Birthday: I think I made her an October Libra for the purpose of a template I did months ago, but I’m not sure! No concrete birthday yet, I’m always very slow to nail down details like this.

Age: 20

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Hair color + style: Blonde. A little past shoulder length, sometimes wavy. Usually a middle part. For Aeon, tied back in a bun.

Eye color: Blue, entirely because of the section of Frank O’Hara’s “Meditations in an Emergency” that goes, “My eyes are vague blue, like the sky...”

Height: 5′5

Piercings: Multiple in each ear, but a couple have started to close.

Tattoos: None yet! Sab likes the idea of a tattoo but is worried about finding the perfect design, whether she’d end up hating it, that the pain might be greater than she expects and she’ll look like a baby in front of her tattoo artist. I’d like to think she eventually consults Sally and/or Glitch to come up with an idea that she falls in love with, but I haven’t come up with what that would be!

Clothing style: Mostly solid colors, not a lot of patterns. Nothing super bright, but a fairly varied mix of pastels, neutrals, dark colors, black. Partial to denim skirts and sweater tops. Ankle boots. Likes a good turtleneck. She’s bolder when it comes to formal wear, and especially loves suits. Big fan of silk and satin.

Since she has a pretty accurate face claim, I’ll link some gifsets I’ve rb’d for appearance ref if you are so inclined.

STATS

I’m always adjusting minor things and swapping scenes around, but these are from my most recent Sab run! Most scores hover somewhere around these values.

Personality:

Confidence: 53%

Humor: 5%

Morbidity: 22%

Resentful: 57% | Accepting: 43%

Strategy:

Interpersonal: 12%

Insightful: 50%

Innovative: 10%

Ethical: 43% | Expedient: 57%

KEY DECISIONS:

What is Nick’s nickname and why?: Saint Nick, used very rarely. It’s a joking reference to the time she thought Santa was an evil Ment out to ruin Christmas, and a point about Nick overdoing it with the cheer. “Saint Nick” is usually code for “I know you mean well, but please mind your own business.” Otherwise, she just calls him Nick.

What is their favorite type of cookie (and its name and why?): Salted caramel chocolate chip! No special name.

What was their initial reaction to Sally hugging them, as kids?: She just froze. That could just be me projecting adult Sabrina onto her childhood self; I don’t imagine that she was as uncomfortable around strangers or quite as cautious back then. But that’s what I’ll stick with.

How did they ace the ASE test?: The in-game option she takes is “My entire life has revolved around strategic avoidance,” but the one about being just plain smart also sounds like her. If Sab has the chance to thoroughly (over)prepare for something, she will do it. Her mind blindness also has her constantly (over)analyzing situations. So, hard work and relentless anxiety!

Did they manage to win their first assignment? How?: Yes, by having Sally block the door. I’ve headcanoned some slight differences in how it plays out, which I wrote about in-depth here. To summarize, Sab thinks of blocking the door as a desperate last resort, not a clever loophole, and she pushes back against Rosy’s praise because she wishes she could have done it the “real” way. Rosy goes from being impressed to being annoyed that she’s willfully missing the point.

What was the primary emotion Button felt during the Aeon bombing (love, gratitude, etc?): Guilt. She feels very guilty about how much Nick has given up for her in general, but I think that in the moment, it’s on a smaller scale. The fact that Nick was on the phone with her when it happened, coming to her rescue like always, becomes emblematic of their whole relationship for her, and she really fixates on that.

Who drove them home from the hospital from and why?: Glitch. Sab responds to her initial text with “Are you sure?”, and is relieved when Glitch takes that as “Yes, please.” She doesn’t relish the idea of being around someone more connected to her family or Nick at that point.

How do they feel about Nick riding around in their mind?: Worried, at first. Just because it’s so unknown and absolutely insane. After seeing Doctor Amari, she’s excited! Sab is thrilled to be a Pollard Five and intends to take full advantage of it. I am not looking forward to seeing how she reacts when that’s taken away from her.

Why did Button agree to do the undercover mission?: To prove she still deserves to be an MIV. Sabrina feels stupid and reckless for putting herself, Nick, and Aeon in this position, but she knows she’s smart, and she hasn’t worked this hard for nothing. She wants to prove what she could do with a normal Pollard Score and make herself too valuable to give up even when she’s back to Zero.

Told Glitch about your mind blindness?: Depends on the playthrough. I’m constantly going back and forth on whether Sab meets Glitch for coffee or wanders the city with Nick in her second chapter 5 slot (after trying to track down Kent). If she does meet Glitch, though, she absolutely tells her; with how touchy Sab is about privacy, she couldn’t stomach not warning Glitch that Nick could hear everything they said.

Figured out K’s secret?: Nope. She finds enough of the clues to be given the “I knew it!” option in-game, but she didn��t actually put it together. Sab is too angry and embarrassed by learning that Kent is an AMO to find any reason to interrogate it. “The random guy I met before school just happens to be a jerk” is a perfectly sound explanation to her.

Found Noh’s clues?: Not at the metro station. Sometimes she sees the Vengeance brooms in chapter 5 (again, depending on the playthrough), but that’s it.

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP:

Love Interest: Kent

Why them?: Sab feels an immediate kinship with Kent after learning about the NPO program. It’s kind of funny how quickly he moves from the least sympathetic position in her eyes (Ment who got past me and read my mind without my knowledge) to the most sympathetic (non-powered child of a prominent family aiming a league above where he “belongs”). A lot of new respect for his competence. Her fate is sealed when she realizes that his kindness at the hospital wasn’t him trying to make up for some wrongdoing, but just him being very sweet. (She had scoffed over “You needed help.” But now she’s like, “Oh. He meant that?! Fuck.”)

As they spend more time together, Sab realizes how weirdly similar they are in other ways, too. And she starts to feel safe/secure around him in a way that she’s extremely not used to. Growing up surrounded by Ments, Sab has a lot of issues about being too much, too difficult, needing to “be worthy” of love. So someone like Kent who is not a Ment, who has no “obligation” to care about her, and whose judgement she trusts implicitly? Being around him and being loved by him mean a lot, and I think will go a long way towards helping her reflect on her other relationships!

What are their first impressions of each other?: Okay, there are like 3 first impressions with Kent. First: he’s tall and handsome and secretly adorable, and they have similar career goals, so she’s drafting a five-month plan to woo him and get his number. Second: he’s a lying, self-obsessed loser who owes her many explanations. Third: oh no, the first impression was true! And he’s been continually, selflessly kind to her in spite of her overt hostility. Scratch the five-month plan, because the crush was only fun when it was entirely superficial; now she really, really likes him and that just sucks.

We know that Button makes a good impression on K by stopping for their dogs, but apart from that... I mean, the “we confused each other” from chapter 7 is very apt. Sab has lots of shifting personas, and Kent sees pretty much every one within 24 hours. The prevailing impression before everything gets cleared up is probably just that she cares a lot? About everything? Her stopping for the dogs, how seriously she takes the first assignment, the way she seems so deeply affected by something he said or did that morning. It’s a rare side of her to meet first because she usually pretends to be above everything.

What feature does your Button find most attractive in their RO (ex. appearance, personality, etc.)?: Probably his composure. And his... steadfastness? The way he seems unruffled by anything, his soothing presence. She really admires that about him and finds the calm contagious.

What do they do to spend time together?: Going on drives together! Kent driving while Sab plays songs she thinks he’ll like, talking or not talking. Cuddling on the couch while reading their own separate books. Museum dates. Walking the dogs together.

Do they argue? How do they handle arguments and disagreements? How do they make up?: I imagine that the first month or so of their relationship would be difficult, just because they’re both bad at expressing themselves and not used to relying on other people. Kent kind of negates a lot of Sab’s impulses to get defensive or hostile, so instead of arguments, I think there are more likely to be awkward periods where she’s just stewing in something without addressing it. Most of their fights would be, like, one of them becoming really distant for a concerning number of days until the other tries to awkwardly check in on them.

What does their future look like?: Uhh some random lore: I think eventually they do get married, despite neither of them caring that much about it. Sabrina would be excited to have something to plan, and she knows it would make the people around her happy. They have a long engagement; there’s never really an “official” proposal, just an acknowledgement that yeah, they’ll get married one day, and then eventually they get rings. The engagement is almost Sab’s favorite part, honestly. She likes planning and showing off her ring and calling Kent her fiancé, a lot of fanfare on her part for a wedding that ends up being very modest and chill.

OTHER RELATIONSHIPS (Feel free to go in depth!)

Relationship with Nick: When I first started developing Sab, I thought that with as difficult/prickly as she can be, her relationship with Nick would be worse than it is. Never bad, but certainly strained, with more jealousy/resentment on her side. However, she rejected this. She is resentful, but never towards Nick—she internalizes the negative parts of their relationship so they manifest as guilt instead. And that’s the problem, not resentment. Sab thinks he’s overprotective, but that doesn’t make her angry; it just makes her sad. She wishes things were different and he didn’t feel so responsible for her, but she also doesn’t know how she could manage without him taking on so many of her burdens. So, guilt! So much love, but always looming guilt.

Having Nick in her head has helped. It’s added a new kind of guilt (“I’m a horrible person for being so giddy that people can’t hear my thoughts even though that requires my brother to be in a coma”), but getting inside Nick’s head for once and really feeling his love for her changes things. Makes her feel way more secure, I guess? It’s easier to see her brother as human person, a friend who loves her, rather than a perfect selfless paragon who sacrificed everything to raise her, which is an important shift.

There are also Things happening with self-presentation in the fact that they’re both models, and flirts, and pretend to be shallow. And the ways that they’ve responded to vastly different expectations. And selflessness versus selfishness. But I have no idea how to talk about that yet.

Relationship with Father: Strained and distant. Sabrina doesn’t necessarily blame him for leaving, but she hates how he’s handled it. She’s incredibly frustrated that John insists on keeping them in this miserable limbo of uncomfortable visits, even though moving away was (to her) a tacit acknowledgement that she and her parents are better off without each other. He’s trying to force a relationship that Sab thinks is ultimately harmful for everyone involved. For Nick’s sake, she’s willing to grin and bear the visits, but it never works because John can obviously tell it’s an act. He pushes her, she gets defensive, and so on to infinity.

Relationship with Mother: Like with John, Sab doesn’t resent Hope for the incident itself, or for leaving afterward. It was terrifying, and the idea of being around Hope makes her panic—but she thinks of that as just another irrational anxiety symptom, and she’s trying to work through it. What she does resent Hope for is letting it get to that point at all. Sab is incredibly bitter that Hope will suffer silently to the point of almost killing her (during the incident) and potentially herself (with the BRS), while Sab has no choice but to be completely open. Especially because they’re so similar in that way—she’s almost jealous. “Oh, so your silence is allowed to almost kill me and it’s ‘nobody’s fault’ but I can’t pretend to enjoy a single lunch with Dad without him calling me out for lying?”

And even though she doesn’t hold the incident itself against her, Sab is very hung up on “Why are you never quiet? Why are you always there?” She knows, on some level, that this was not a Personal Judgement against her. But because Hope keeps so much quiet, this is the only honest expression of her mother’s feelings that she can remember! It would take a lot for Sab to believe that Hope was really, genuinely interested in reconnecting with her, rather than just pretending to love her "enough” this time because to do otherwise would reflect poorly on Hope as a mother.

Relationship with Sally: Besties <3 Sally is the only member of the Wiseman inner circle that Sab doesn’t have complicated feelings about. They both have hidden morbid streaks that they bring out in each other, and can laugh about. They both have competitive streaks that work well together because they’re always on the same team. And their wants/needs from the relationship complement each other well, I think. Sally has always felt valued because she’s useful and not because she’s loved, while Sab has always felt smothered by love/care without feeling like she genuinely adds value to other people’s lives. So it means a lot to both of them that they’re able to help each other practically, while also genuinely loving and supporting each other outside of that.

Relationship with Gray: Full of trust and genuine care, but predicated on distance. Sab loves him a lot for being so careful not to cross any boundaries, physical or emotional, with her. She’s grateful that he’s there for Nick in a way that she doesn’t feel she can be. But "I like Gray because he doesn’t push me and is good to Nick” means that any hand he extend makes her defensive, because she’ll either view him as an emissary of Nick or start to panic because their normal routine is being disrupted (she doesn’t tell him about Hope in ch 3, for example).

They get along very well in a friend-of-a-friend sort of way, and bond over being cautious counterparts to Nick. Also, Sab never had a crush on Gray, but she is not immune to tall superhero and thinks it’s fun to fake flirt with him. (You know Isabela’s “You have pretty eyes” routine from DA2? Sab does that to Gray when conversations steer towards things she’d rather not talk about.)

Relationship with Glitch: I’m really excited about these two! They click from the start, and Sabrina feels immediately comfortable around Glitch, which makes her feel distinctly uncomfortable whenever she catches herself. Externally, they have pretty different personalities, but they’re both perceptive and... socially manipulative? aware of their self-presentation?... in ways that they both pick up on right away. So it’s a lot of conversational maneuvering and trying to figure out what the other’s game is, while also genuinely enjoying each other’s company.

Relationship with Kent/Kenna: I could go truly insane here. See the romance section above instead.

Relationship with Kim: Sab wants him to like her sooooo bad. He’s one of the only people to ever really get through to her, re: my headcanon conversation after the first assignment. Authority figures tend to treat her as special, whether that’s negatively because of her mind blindness or positively because she’s such an overachiever. She had no idea how to respond to that not being the case (and didn’t handle it well at first), but chapter 6 solidifies her respect for him.

It also turns Rosy’s opinion of Sab around; he was impressed by her in class but left his office thinking she was self-absorbed and naive. But the bombing is a reality check, and her response is very measured and practical in a way that surprises him.

Relationship with Lev: She doesn’t mind the comparisons to Nick or the “maybe one day they’ll fix you” comments as much as you might think. They aren’t her favorite, but she prefers that sort of thing to the inspirational platitudes belied by coddling that she got from her family growing up. Sab has fond memories of Lev and is grateful that he’s always been kind to her, but doesn’t have any particular feelings apart from that.

Relationship with Clarence: Holds a grudge against him for causing a scene, making her late, and generally being a jerk. But she can’t fault him for being right, after what happened! Mostly she just wants to avoid him, but she’ll be thrilled to lord her success over him if/when she proves herself.

Relationship with Dean Branham: Like Rosy, another authority figure that Sab desperately wants to impress. But without the personal investment she has in Rosy’s validation, more “Oh, this person is in charge, so I should make her like me!” Despite Nick’s and Rosy’s reservations, Sabrina doesn’t really have a problem with being “strongarmed” or manipulated into cooperating; for now, she figures Branham was just doing her job and respects her tactics.

Relationship/attitude towards Ments in general: Mostly just uncomfortable and wary around them. Sab doesn’t want her mind read, and she figures that no Ment wants to be forced to read it either. So she has a pretty strict “no Ments” rule for close personal relationships (excluding Nick, Sally, and Gray, of course. But only Nick really counts because he’s the only one who can hear her thoughts whenever she’s nearby). Not out of hatred or resentment, just because she knows it will be easier for everyone in the long run.

Do they have any other important relationships, past or present? (Relatives, friends, etc.?): Not many, but yes! Sab dated around a lot in the 2 years before Aeon (more like year and a half, because she completely shut it down once she was more focused on preparing for the MIV program), but there are 2 relationships that were formative/important for her. A high school sweetheart, and someone Sab met through modeling. She doesn’t keep up with her high school ex, but the model is her best friend outside of Sally and Nick, and they still keep in touch! I’m still developing them/the relationships, and I’ll probably post more about them someday. They’re fun!

PERSONAL BIO

Describe their personality: Confusing and contradictory. She has two main modes that confuse people who meet both (e.g., Kent). She’s either cold, stuck-up, and sometimes hostile, OR she’s charming, frivolous, and sometimes flirty. Mode 1 is tense but stoic and inexpressive; mode 2 is seemingly relaxed but very posed and insincere. Mode 1 is for when she feels uncertain or has no agenda apart from “get to point B”; mode 2 is for when she’s more comfortable or trying to manipulate someone. Her actual personality is a bit closer to the second, but she doesn’t pretend not take things seriously or hide when she’s annoyed.

Strengths: Analytical, methodical, detail-oriented. Very driven and hardworking. May not always act like it, but does have social skills/charisma; a great liar, if you can’t read her mind. Unfailingly loyal and loving to her favorite people, so so so warm and affectionate and supportive if she really loves you. Very perceptive.

Weaknesses: Way too proud. Can be petty and vindictive. Self-absorbed (she doesn’t mean anything by it, but it’s hard for her to see past herself sometimes). Stubborn, hates being wrong. And... emotional isn’t the word, but strong negative emotions can really cloud her judgement. It ties into her being proud, petty, and stubborn; if she’s really upset about something, she can cling to that emotion instead of re-evaluating it or moving forward.

Phobias: From this ask about the phobias that are planned to show up in-game, there are a few that I could see fitting Sab, but I want to wait to see how they’re implemented before I fully commit. Which is very metagame-y, I know (and I am very metagame-y about IF), but “fear of X” is so broad that it really does depend on when/how it manifests in the text.

That being said, agoraphobia is almost a lock; crowds do make Sab very anxious if she can’t keep track of everyone within a certain distance, and if she can’t leave when she starts feeling antsy. Claustrophobia is a maybe. The choice that triggers it (in chapter 4, about hating MRI machines) suits Sab, but I’m not sure if she hates MRI machines because she hates tight spaces, or if it’s more related to her general anxiety about hospitals, medical tests, etc. Which she definitely has!

What activities/club did they do in school?: She avoided anything group-oriented as far as possible. She took piano (maybe violin?) lessons and did recitals, but wasn’t in orchestra. The one exception was maybe National Honor Society or some equivalent, which she would have joined for her resume’s sake. And I think she would have tutored!

Where do they escape to when they need space?: A little used library corner, where she can people watch without being seen/heard.

How do they feel about/cope with their mind blindness?: Sab hates it but tries not to dwell on it. She knows that it’s no one’s fault, and she mainly just tries to... minimize it? Drown out her thoughts, limit her contact with Ments. And, least healthily, very rigidly managing herself. Because there’s so much of her that exists outside of herself, without her control, she tries to either filter or completely suppress everything else. Part of why she got into modeling, she can perform and be perfect and have total control over the final product of her body in the photographs for whatever campaign. Some Day This Will Be Better. But definitely not where she is in current canon.

How has your Button changed since the Incident with Hope?: Developed many new anxieties and disorders and syndromes :) She also became way more self-conscious, as in literally conscious of and way more tightly monitoring herself, what she’s thinking, what she’s expressing, how she’s sitting, etc. Less emotive face, more rigid posture.

If they weren’t an Aeon student, what would they be doing?: Sab would have beaten herself up forever if she “proved everyone right” by avoiding Unity/Ments entirely, so she’d want to stay in the family business somehow. She probably would have ended up doing scientific research on mental agility. Maybe even working for Mirrortech or some other biotech company, which I imagine would have been an interesting conversation to have with the family.

RANDOM FACTS:

Zodiac sign: Like I said, I assigned her Libra months ago for the sake of a template. But I don’t know enough about astrology to commit. Libra or Leo, probably.

Hobbies: Music, reading poetry, “cooking” (i.e., sitting on the counter and not helping while Nick makes dinner)

Likes: Watching other people (Nick) play video games, dressing up, taking long showers/baths, dark chocolate with caramel, back hugs

Dislikes: Being patronized, hot weather, going to the doctor, driving, doing anything she is not good at

Type of bedsheets: Bamboo.

Drink of choice: Cucumber mint lemonade! For hot drinks, some kind of caramel coffee. For alcohol, she refuses to get drunk because she’s terrified of having even less control of her mental broadcast, but at home/around people she trusts she’ll have a glass or two of wine. Doesn’t know enough to be picky, but doesn’t like it too sweet.

Favorite food: Probably some pasta dish Nick makes with asparagus and tomatoes and a lot of garlic.

Favorite color: Like a light turquoise!

Favorite music: Music to her was another mind-shielding tactic before anything else, so she tends to like upbeat-ish electronic/pop stuff. Catchy and repetitive, and/or with lots of personality to drown out her own thoughts. On the other end of the spectrum, she does have a soft spot for crackly, lo-fi, old or old-sounding slow songs—something about fuzzy recordings simulating a weak telepathic signal.

Favorite season: Hmm, spring and autumn are both good. She likes either side of winter.

Anything else you’d like to share: My heart and a long, fulfilling marriage, with anyone who reads all this 💍

#wow this is so long. insanity luv lit ral insanity #this was super helpful for articulating certain things about sab's character so it's already done its job #pls do not feel pressured to read Thousands of words about sabrina my beloved. but if you read all or even some of this <333 a kiss for you #why am i embarrassed to overshare about my own ocs on my own blog. i live here #oc: sabrina wiseman #also this was very much a stream of consciousness deal but i tried to go back and make it comprehensible. good luck all ye who enter here

[notveryglittery]

misc royality #3

summary: patton and roman talk after “putting others first” words: 2k / ship: royality warnings: might come across as a little harsh towards deceit but that’s definitely the author′s bias versus how the characters feel. uh, outburst of emotions, hiding one’s feelings. lmk if there’s anything else. author’s note: BEFORE YOU READ, PLEASE UNDERSTAND THAT THIS IS UNFINISHED!! I DO NOT HAVE PLANS TO FINISH IT!! it stops at a point that can be considered a happy ending, in my opinion, or at the very least hopeful and heading towards resolution. i started writing this on may 11 and have since read too many posts about the episode/royality during or after the episode/etc to feel happy with where i was going here. it has not been beta’d. i hope you enjoy regardless <3

— — —

Okay, so that had gone… about as terribly as it could have.

To be fair! … To be fair, things had been alright for a bit. Patton had genuinely been trying not to force his opinions on anyone else, Thomas had been open to hearing from both of them, and Roman had done his best to reign in the insults. He thought he’d done a pretty good job, standing up for himself while making sure still to support Patton. It hadn’t been easy, sure, wanting to mention how attending the wedding had been a waste, and how they’d have been better off at the callback, and how he wished their court scenario had gone differently, but that… That was all water under the bridge. The bridge might have needed some work, admittedly, given that Roman could feel the heat licking at his heels, but that wasn’t something he could worry about right now.

Right now, all he could worry about was figuring out where he stood on this good versus evil scale. Heh… scale. Yeah, thinking about the reptilian rapscallion was not going to improve his mood. Roman sighed, pushing a hand through his hair, and kicking his boots off the moment he arrived in his room. They disappeared under the bed, which was going to be very annoying when he couldn’t find them tomorrow, but whatever, that was a problem for future Roman. The only problem current Roman had was trying to understand the line between right and wrong.

It was wrong to laugh at Deceit’s name, at… at Janus sharing something important and then throwing it right back in his face. It was right to be selfish, but only sometimes. It was wrong to put others before oneself, but only sometimes. It was right to lie to spare someone’s feelings…

Roman couldn’t remember that being a part of their discussion but like hell he could forget that he was no longer Thomas’ hero. He wasn’t even sure if it would have hurt less, had Thomas been honest about it.

Maybe Janus was wrong, a small traitorous part of him hoped. Maybe something got lost in translation.

Yeah, and maybe he hadn’t been tricked before. He had to keep his guard up now more than ever… Regardless of whether Patton and Thomas trusted Janus, Roman couldn’t… Not after he’d been fooled so many times already.

He’d just been considering disappearing into the Fantasy Realm for an arduous adventure, something to take his mind off of things until he could better process them, when there was a knock at the door.

“Ro, honey?”

Flinching at the simple sound of Patton’s voice was definitely something worth being concerned about, but he shoved it into the pile of things he’d deal with later. Instead, he fluffed his hair and straightened his sash and put on a smile. It stung a little bit, to do so, when all he wanted was to cry, but maybe this wouldn’t take long.

“Evening, buttercup~” Roman sang as he opened the door, “to what do I owe the pleasure?

If Patton seemed put off by his cheery attitude, he didn’t show it. “I wanted to check on you. I know I’m feeling pretty rough after all that. Are you doing okay?”

“First of all, lovebug, you’re always pretty, so jot that down.” Roman was quick to remind, “as for me, you needn’t add anymore stress to your plate by worrying over this silly old prince.”

The smile that twisted Patton’s lips at the compliment was quickly replaced with a pout. He put his hands on his hips and leaned in closer. “Now Roman, you aren’t just some silly old prince. You’re the most handsome prince in the world. I think you’re very sensible and wise.”

“Logan’s room is two doors down.”

Patton scowled. “Is that a self-deprecation in my house, mister?”

Roman pretended to check his fingernails, feigning disinterest. “Technically not your house so… no, not really.”

Patton pulled away. “Is there something you’d like to get off your chest?” His tone was sincere and Roman wanted to scream because he wasn’t sure he could believe it.

“I don’t know, maybe the suffocating weight of having to be perfect for you all? Or could it be the overwhelming guilt at constantly failing to succeed in the only thing I’m good for?” Roman ignored the way his breath hitched, curled his hands into fists to resist tugging at his hair. “It might just as well be the stifling reminder of how easy I am to manipulate! Gee, Patton, I wonder what I could possibly have to be upset about!”

“Oh.”

Roman reeled back, as if he’d been slapped. Immediately, he was sure that he’d overstepped, that he’d fucked up, and that Patton was going to reprimand him for being whiny and dramatic.

“Oh, okay. Okay, hold on.”

Before Roman could realize it was happening, Patton had stepped through the door. He was trailing his fingers through the air, using the power Roman had allowed him over the room to better suit… whatever it was he had planned.

“Forget I said anything,” Roman said, voice catching. He stayed put, gesturing back out to the hallway. “I’m sure you have much more important things to handle.”

The setting sun normally filled the room with a light that was sometimes glaring due to the wall of floor to ceiling windows, but Patton had lessened it by creating sweeping lace curtains. It seemed softer now, warm and gold, almost as if everything wasn’t actually sharp and broken.

“The only thing I care to handle right now,” Patton said, approaching him, “is you.”

He closed the door before taking Roman’s hands in his. Patton’s skin was soft against Roman’s callouses, from years and years of learning how to play instruments and how to sword fight and how to work himself to the point of pain and then to grit his teeth and keep going. He tried so damn hard, all the time. What even was the point?

“Can we have an open, honest talk, please? I want to understand what’s going on.”

Roman laughed, though there was no humor to it. He yanked his hands free. “Sure. Let’s start with that ‘we love you.’ Finding it real hard to believe there was any truth to it.”

Patton looked hurt and some tiny terrible, vindictive part of Roman thought good. He hated himself for it. He let his arms fall to his sides and brushed by Patton.

He took a seat at his desk, which usually doubled as his vanity, and tried not to look at himself in the mirror. Instead, he grabbed the nearest notebook and pen, and began writing. It didn’t matter what made it from his brain to the page, just that it did, and that he had something to do with his hands and his thoughts. It was quiet for a couple of minutes but Roman knew Patton hadn’t left, for the simple sensation that came with another side being in his room. After a little while longer, Patton moved, and Roman heard the shift of blankets. He was glad, at least, that he was being given some space.

“Feel free to stop me at any point, okay?”

Roman gave him a noncommittal shrug.

“I think I know where things got messy. I really have been blind to so much. Sweetpea, I had no idea how badly Janus had been misleading you. And for such a long time… I can’t change the past but I hope in the future, I can help to protect you from these sorts of things. You keep us safe from so much, Roman. You deserve to be kept safe, too.”

Roman’s vision blurred. With shaking hands, he wiped the tears away before they could fall. He waited until the trembling subsided before speaking. “That’s very kind, dearheart, but I don’t need protecting. I can take care of myself.”

“That doesn’t mean you should have to do it alone.”

“It’s the only way I know how,” Roman said with a hollow laugh.

He finally looked up from his notebook and into the mirror. His eyes were rimmed red and he could see Patton in the reflection, twisting his hands and frowning. The glass went black at Roman’s will and he shoved away from the desk. He turned and took in his room to see what else Patton had done with it. Along with the curtains, he’d added extra strings of fairy lights and piles of pillows on the bed. Now that he was paying attention, Roman noticed the wood floor had been swapped out for plush carpet. It was all exceedingly comfortable.

Lacking the energy to go through the whole process of undressing, Roman snapped his fingers and changed into clean pajamas. Patton smiled hesitantly and did the same. A box also appeared beside him.

“I want to show you a few things. Can we cuddle?”

Roman wasn’t sure how he’d react to being touched right now but there was only one way to find out. They situated themselves in bed, sitting up against the wall with pillows at their backs. Patton stacked the extras at their sides and under their arms; Roman brushed a hand through Patton’s hair as he placed the box on top of his legs. It was cardboard and had been colored all over, decorated with stickers and glitter. On the lid, Roman’s name was written in bubbly rounded letters, surrounded by stars and hearts.

“What’s this?”

Patton opened it and reached in, blindly taking something out. It was easily recognizable for the big font written across it. Christmas Carol. The I was dotted with a star and the O wore mouse ears. Each of the C’s hosted Santa hats and beards.

God, that looks ridiculous. What were you thinking? Roman thought. All the time he’d spent had been a waste once it had become clear how little the others cared. The blatant disregard for their parts and who all they belonged to; that wasn’t even covering how they’d torn him down for (admittedly, he understood now) Virgil’s single line.

“You worked so hard on this, remember?” Patton said, voice heavy with nostalgia. His expression was fond. “It was so much fun to sing.”

“Oh, definitely. Everyone changing the lyrics was my favorite part.” Roman snapped, taking the script and throwing it across the room. There was no noise indicating that it had landed and he assumed Patton had returned it to the box.

Undeterred, he reached in again and this time, it took Roman a moment to realize what it was. A copy of the cast list from the final high school play Thomas had been in. He’d scored the lead role. Roman had been ecstatic; he’d ridden that high for weeks afterwards. Memorizing the lines had been effortless and it’d been so easy to play their part. All of the late nights after rehearsal, 2am at Denny’s, syrupy sweet memories full of laughter and friendship. He took the paper delicately from Patton. Thomas had even gotten it laminated, so that nothing bad could ever happen to it.

“That was a really nice day,” Patton said quietly. “And every day after that. Going over the lines with you felt like such a big deal. I thought I was so clumsy but you still picked me.”

“You were so supportive.” Roman muttered, trying not to trip over the past tense.

The sound of sloshing liquid suddenly had Roman looking to Patton, confused. There was a snow globe in his hand, which he held out on his palm so they could see the scene inside. It was of Elsa and Anna, the former creating the snow flurry that would bring Olaf back to life.

“I promise you that I still am,” Patton told him, in a tone so genuine that Roman wondered how he could ever doubt it to begin with. “You create such beautiful, wonderful, amazing things. I’m proud of them all.”

He tilted the box so that Roman could see better into it. It should have been filled to the brim, with the number of trinkets inside, but it looked well organized. He couldn’t even begin to guess how many scripts, stories, and pieces of artwork Patton had collected.

“Is this a Mary Poppins bag?” He asked teasingly.

“Yes,” Patton responded seriously.

Roman watched as he stuck his hand in and passed all the visible clutter. His arm disappeared up to the elbow as he stuck his tongue out in concentration. Roman found it utterly adorable. When Patton apparently found what he was looking for, he gave a victorious cheer and yanked hard. Somehow, nothing else was jostled; it all sat safely, nestled together with the utmost care.

In Patton’s palm now was a sunset pink orb. It shimmered regardless of light or motion and despite not holding it himself, Roman felt warm from its presence alone.

“What’s that?” He spoke quietly without realizing it, as if any loud noise would shatter the moment.

“I have one of these for every Occasion. They aren’t always this pretty.” Patton’s smile went a little sad before he continued. “It’s important to remember, regardless. Sometimes, it’s just a few minutes. Other times, it’s a whole day.”

#sanders sides fan fiction #royality #royality fan fiction #roman sanders #patton sanders #putting others first #dani writes

[hydra-collector]

Suck Me Out

Ships: Intrulogical, some Intruloceit

Characters: Remus Sanders, Logan Sanders, Janus Sanders (minor character), Roman Sanders (minor character), Virgil Sanders (minor character), Patton Sanders (minor character)

TW: Self-harm, choking, autoerotic asphyxation (not really though), depression, self-deprecation, I don’t want to spoil but if any of those previous tags bother you even a little, I suggest you don’t read this (I’ll tag the spoiler, though), cursing

Words: 1,716

Summary: Remus wouldn't expect them to understand. He's intrusive thoughts, god of kinks. Of course they wouldn't see it. But once in a while he wished they would.

"I'm serious, Logan," Remus gestured to his tightly adorned garment, "necktie."

Logan rolled his eyes at his boyfriend. "When you're done with your kinks, join us for movie night. We finally get to watch a documentary."

Remus shrugged and pulled tighter the pretty blue tie that had previously been on Logan's neck. His face was purple from the cutoff of blood and his hand struggled to keep grip. He began to tilt backwards a little towards the wall before Logan took his arm and pried away the tie.

"Remus, stop. You're gonna fall."

"But it feels so good."

Logan only sighed in response and reclaimed the tie around his own neck, leading Remus to the living room. 

Roman was the first to speak out of the welcoming mumbles.

"Remus, save your arousal for night time. We're trying to watch a fun movie about space," though he seemed skeptical of the amount he could enjoy a documentary.

Patton scolded the two of them for mentioning such subjects, but swiftly put on the movie anyway. 

Virgil and Roman became surprisingly enamored in the science of black holes and their possible opposite, white holes. Logan excitedly paused it at multiple points to fawn over or elaborate on some of the research like a child. Remus, however, sat leaning against Logan, staring mindlessly at the television.

What if I was in a black hole? 

Remus tried to shake the thought off, but it was persistent. 

If black holes lead to white ones that spit you out into another universe, could my world here end? 

Maybe he'd be happy in this other universe. Something in his brain would change and the sadness would be gone. Or maybe it'd be traumatic. 

"...Remus!"

"Huh?"

"I paused the movie to see if you were alright. You did not seem to notice when I did."

"Yeah, I'm, I'm fine. Think I'll just…" mumbling off something about the bathroom. 

The minute he left he felt lonely. And stupid. Lonely and stupid. He shouldn't have let them see that. Now Logan's gonna be concerned because there's obviously something wrong. He stared intently at the mirror. 

Ugly. They hate me. 

What if he said that to them? He'd be guilt-tripping them and he'd be a terrible person. Even thinking it , he's a terrible person. Die.

His arms flashed to his neck, grabbing as tight as possible. His balance began failing… 

No, he can't do that. Then he worries them and they don't need that. How does he even know death is better than this?

Thomas doesn’t need him. Thomas doesn’t want him. His mental health would be better if he never even existed. Thomas doesn’t deserve what he does.

I want to fix that.

He can't help but cry. Muffled shrieks that must sound like moans from the living room. Sharp breaths that must sound like enjoyment slip out. Hits to his arms and legs that only add to the many bruises sound disgusting to them.

But none of it is. 

Sure, they have good reason to believe that Remus has some kinks, he is indeed mostly intrusive thoughts, which he’d admit is related to kinks, but he half-wished they wouldn't assume. He didn't really want them to know, but it killed him to be constantly alone about it. 

Alone.

Forever alone.

Logan, Patton, Roman, and Virgil. They’re the “light sides.” Of course he’s happy Janus got accepted, but… he doesn’t get that. He probably never will.

Fuck it. 

He tiptoed his way to his bedroom, ceiling adorned with a hook in preparation. On a day easier than this, he’d drilled it for today. Under his bed sat a box holding the rope, paper, and pen he’d carefully hidden. He thanked his previous self.

Tying the noose, his ears kept open for visitors wondering where he was. Before he hung himself at last, he wrote.

I’m sorry. 

Patton, Virgil, I love you. Janus, I love you. My brother, I love you. And Logan. I love you. Thank you for caring. 

But it wasn’t a kink.

He questioned if he should refer to Roman as his brother, and decided at last to do it. He didn’t want to alienate him as he died. He’d never get to tell him again.

I’m glad this is the end. I wasn’t needed.

He kicked the chair from under him.

Thomas will be happier without me.

As the rope constricted, relief and fear washed over him.

They all will.

“Remus!”

--

His throat hurt.

“Remus?”

He then noticed he could see a face. A beautiful face.

Logan?

“L-”

As soon as he tried to speak, his throat stopped him. Logan took his cheek in comfort.

“It’s okay, Remus. We found you. You’re going to be okay.”

He looked around to find he was sitting on his soft bed, pillows piled behind his head. The rope, and the hook were both gone. A drill, that had presumably been used to remove the hook, sat on the far dresser.

“We found your note.” It was Roman this time.

“I’m so sorry we ever thought it was a kink. We should have talked to you.” Logan’s eyes were gazing prettily at Remus’s.

“-”

He was reminded he couldn’t speak, so pointed to the paper on which his note was, and made a writing motion. Logan soon obliged to his wishes, though getting a different paper. Remus began to write. Again.

You had good reason to think it was.

He smiled a bit, and would have laughed, when Roman and Logan read this. They didn’t seem as amused as he was, and only looked worried. He flailed his arms to get the paper back.

Y’all don’t understand my sense of humor.

Where’s everyone else?

Logan beckoned to the door and Janus, Virgil, and Patton came in. Seeing Janus’s scales, his beautiful face… he never did get to ask him out.

Janus.

Logan brought him over while Remus wrote his message.

Probably not the best time, but I’d like to take this opportunity to tell you that both me and Logan have a crush on you.

“What?”

His human side grew red. Someone, who you like, who’s just attempted suicide telling you they want to date you is a very odd feeling.

“Remus, what did you-” Logan attempted to look at his message to Janus, and immediately shut up when he saw it.

Can I talk to Virgil now?

Virgil had been snickering in his corner, seemingly able to read the paper. He stopped as soon as he was called, putting on a more serious face.

Sorry Janus pushed you down the stairs.

“Wh- you’re not going to say some sad thing about me leaving the dark sides and you getting depressed? Just apologizing for Janus?”

I’m not going to blame it on you. It was Janus who pushed you down the stairs. And my idea.

“I’d call you an asshole but you’ve just attempted suicide and this is your daily personality.”

Remus made peace signs before requesting to talk to Patton, who unsurprisingly apologized over and over for treating Remus like a piece of shit. He did need to apologize, but Remus knew he was making an effort. Even if it wasn’t going very well.

Hey Ro-Ro, my bro-bro.

Roman also apologized. 

I mean we were literally split for you to be the “good” brother and me to be the “bad” one. If anything that made it the worst.

Roman had nothing to do but give him a hug.

Logan,

could I have a kiss?

Logan smiled and kissed Remus lightly on the cheek. He was pretty sure it wasn’t a good idea to kiss someone on the lips if they’d been frothing at the mouth. 

That was tiny!

He would have gone to cuddle and kiss Remus more if no one else had been there. For now, Remus hugged everyone individually until they dispersed. 

Thankfully, Logan was put on watch duty, to make sure Remus really was feeling better, as he seemed, and wouldn’t try anything.

Logan pressed kisses to Remus’s forehead, cheeks, and nose. His warmth bled onto Remus, who desperately needed it. Logan’s eyes were beautiful. His arms wrapped around him. He felt safe. Remus snuggled into the affection, nearly happy he’d attempted suicide and been found. But-

He picked up the pen and paper again, reluctant to let go.

Logan, what if I did that because I wanted attention?

“Hey, Remus, no. You did it because everyone’s been against you. It’s made you feel like you don’t matter. But you do. We need you. Even if you did because of attention, it was because you needed attention. It’s okay if you wanted attention. If you were willing to go to… those lengths just to get attention, you needed it.”

Logan

thank y-

Remus’s eyes filled with bittersweet tears before he managed to finish writing, and he clutched Logan tight. He let go again to tell him more.

I felt so horrible. I still feel so horrible. I’m sorry I acted so happy when I wasn’t. I know you care but I shouldn’t be here. All I do is hurt Thomas. Now I’ll hurt him even more because I failed. He’s going to feel like shit. I’d pull out my own organs and put them in my horrible person pile if I could. It would have been okay if I’d succeeded. I’m so sorry if you would’ve missed me, but I can’t keep hurting Thomas. If I would’ve died he would have been fine, but I failed so-

Remus sobbed into Logan’s arms again, laying as close as possible, feeling his warmth, his body as much as possible. His boyfriend rubbed his hand over his back, arms, through his hair. He was starting to cry a little as well. He felt so horrible that he hadn’t helped how Remus felt.

“Remus, if a part of Thomas died, he’d have a piece of himself missing. It may not seem like Thomas wants or needs you, but you’re a part of him nonetheless.”

What do I do?

“Remus,” Logan turned his boyfriend’s face gently to look him in the eyes, “all you need to do is stay alive.”

What if I can’t?

“I'll be with you. As long as you need. You stay alive as long as you can.”

#sanders sides #sanders side fic #remus sanders #logan sanders #intrulogical #intruloceit #ts remus #ts logan #deceit sanders #janus sanders #ts deceit #ts janus #roman sanders #ts roman #virgil sanders #ts virgil #patton sanders #ts patton #HERES THE TRIGGER WARNING: #tw suicide #sucide attempt #tw suicide attempt #tw self harm #tw kink #think thats it #grays fics

[awesamkiller]

My dear, Goodnight.

(Alt. Title: Beyond the Mist.)

Triggers: Major Character Death, small amounts of blood, venom, snakes.

Summary: Roman is never letting the others visit the imagination again. He might never return himself.

Very loosely based off of the story of Orpheus and Eurydice

Song! 

@im-a-creepy-cookie​, told you this one was awful.

@turbovickii​ I also want to make you Feel Feelings because you make me feel them with your animatics.

Notes to remember before reading: Black Mamba’s have black mouths. They are one of the most deadly snakes on the planet.

It had been so fun.

It had been so fucking fun.

Why did it have to take this harsh a nosedive?

Roman knew inviting people into the imagination had risks, like getting beaten up by one of the rowdy townspeople in his false kingdom, but not this. Not THIS.

Janus came under the impression his boyfriend would never let him get hurt. That he would be safe in this magical play-place of realistic fantasy. This adults playground of role-play and hot sun. And he held that belief to the end, that it was fun, a place to play, even when his own experience turned so sour.

Roman had taken him to walk in the woods, misty and towering as the trees were, it looked stunningly mysterious. Roman watched as Janus approached it with a look of awe that soon melted to reveal excitement. He grabbed Romans hand and sprinted down every path, persona peeling back showing a freedom and excitement that barely snuck out when working with the others. He admired the different colours of the gravel path, the slight differences in every last tree of thousands, as if Roman had carved every one. In reality, he sort of loaded things in chunks like a sandbox game, randomised as a bag of skittles. 

Roman watched as Janus saw the mist-smothered lake and sprinted towards it. Watched as he took his shoes off and dance in the shallows, held him around the waist, tall boots withstanding the low water as Janus skipped stones on the surface, watching them cut through the mist and vanish. He observed his boyfriend turning around and going on a search for his boots in the tall grass.

He saw his boyfriends face contort confusion, then in pain. He registered the look in seconds and sprinted forward to see what was trapped under Janus’s foot. A snake. it took him mere seconds to cut its head off with a small dagger after a few minutes of hacking and help Janus sit down, grabbing the head carefully and prying its mouth open, only to be met with black.

No.

No.

“Janus.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” Romans throat went dry as he spoke those words, laced them with grim meaning, and saw how his boyfriend reacted. Saw Janus look at the unassuming wound, at his boyfriend, at his own hands. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you-” Roman chanted as he moved over,

“Roman, you’re scaring me-” Janus choked out, tearing up from the fear and suspense, “Roman, what bit me? Roman?” Slightly trembling hands cupped the princes cheeks as Roman pulled Janus into his lap and tried to tighten his sash around Janus’s leg above the wound, trying to slow the spread. He settled Janus into his chest carefully. “Black mamba.” He spoke softly, pressing a kiss to the half-snakes temple.

“No.” Janus whispered. “No- No- Roman-” He babbled quickly and wrapped his arms around the other, feeling Roman squeeze him tightly, “It’s okay, Janny, it’s okay. I’m so sorry. I’m here. We’re too deep in the woods, I’m so sorry, I love you.” He cooed softly. Janus took some silence to compute. He started to cough, and felt his leg burn with a searing pain. He clung to his boyfriend tighter before he felt something off about his sight. He didn’t know if it was the blurring, or his tears, but it terrified him. He ripped backwards, still on Romans legs, and grabbed the princes face in a sudden panic, starting to sob, “Let me look at you, let me see you while I can-” He choked out. It deteriorated and he got closer, closer, and closer until they were pressing foreheads and it still wasn’t clear. “Oh, Ro-” He sobbed softly, his words starting to merge slightly, as his arms began to twitch around the others ribs. “It’s not c-clear-” He howled in a quiet voice, “I can see your eyes-” His throat caught, “I can see the blue- prettyblue-” His words began to melt into each other further, slurring and smudging as he grabbed at the others face, digging his nails in. His arms twitched more, and his legs started. 

Roman began to cry. He tried to hold it, he really did, but he soon had his boyfriend tight in his arms and he cried into the scales on the mans neck, feeling his lovers muscles lose all their autonomy, holding him close. 

“Lay ‘s down...”

“What?”

“Lay-” Janus tried to swallow and re-wet his throat, but it didn’t work. “-us down.” He rasped slowly, trying not to slur. Roman did it quickly, holding him close as they made a bed in the grass and flowers. Janus forced his un-co-operative hand to lay on Romans cheek as they both sniffled and sighed.

“Ironic.” Janus spoke simply. He is half snake after all, and that sent them both into pitiful chuckles. It lasted a moment before he felt a very heavy pain in his chest, spreading into his arms and jaw. He felt himself drench in sweat as he moved the cheek-cupping hand to grip his boyfriends arm tightly, feeling the man pull him close. “I love you- I love y’ I loveyou Iloveyou IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou-” Janus gasped out raspily, Roman clinging him close and quickly, whispering soft, “I love you”s back. 

“You were good to me, Ro...”

Janus gripped his boyfriend tightly before his hands went lax, and Romans eyes widened. Tight-pulled as they were, it was easy to feel his boyfriends erratic heart, and after a while, no heart at all. Roman sat there, deer-in-the-headlights clinging onto a corpse for moments. Then minutes. Then half an hour. He sat there as Janus went cold underneath his fingertips. He was emotionally numb until nightfall.

Until nightfall,

When he screamed to the mist and whoever may be in it, that he refused to come back here again.

#roceit #roceit angst #major character death #roman sanders #janus sanders #death tw #snake tw #venom tw

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 28

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @alievans007​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​

After lunch they pay a visit to Port Douglas beach. The town is popular among tourists and the area is packed; every inch crammed with families in swimsuits and pop up shelters, young adults playing football and frisbee, children building sandcastles and running in and out of the water. There’s no rush to get home. Kyle and Ovi have the boys under control and there are still a lot of hours left in the day. It’s been a long one already; the panic attack in the middle of the road, the disastrous ending to what had started as a relatively positive and pleasant visit with Tyler’s father.

Neither of them speak about it; Millie is young and impressionable and over the moon about having a grandfather in her life and neither want to ruin that for her. She’s done nothing but talk about her time there; the kisses and the cuddles and the silver dollar and getting a chipmunk to eat out of her hand. And it made them both smile as they listened to her; that joyful rambling and those musical giggles and the exuberance over her upcoming birthday party. Neither have the heart ro rain on her parade; not wanting to break her heart with the cold hard fact that her grandfather probably won’t even show up that day. It’s who he is. Who he’s always been. And while she’d be initially crushed, having all of her friends at the house -and the appearance of her new puppy- would help her recover quickly, telling her too soon would cause her to dwell. Which would only work her up into an emotional frenzy that would be almost impossible to control.

While she plays in the surf -princess dress and all- they lounge in the sand; spreading out a tattered and well loved blanket that Tyler had brought along from the truck. It’s seen a lot of years; the same one they’d sit on when they’d take Millie to the beach when she was Addie’s age. Or on trips to the park or out for picnics or on camping trips when they’d live in Colorado. And had been around since before then; the edges frayed, holes patched together with messy stitching, the colors faded. Sometimes she wonders just what that blanket has seen; the history and the memories that those fibres hold. If it had ever been taken on excursions like this with his first family. If his ex wife had sat on the very spot where she sits now nursing their baby, if Austin had ever laid on it when he was Addie’s age or if he had ever been wrapped around his wet and shivering body when there’d been no towel to be had.

She knows it sounds stupid; even thinking about things like that and allowing them to get under her skin. And in the past six and half years the only part of his previous life  she’d ever thought about or they’d ever really discussed was Austin’s illness and eventual death. Even after Sarah had shown up at the hospital following Dhaka, she’d never sat back and thought of the fact he’d been someone else’s husband first. So caught up in spending every waking moment at his bedside and then finding out she was pregnant that everything seemed irrelevant. And normally it doesn’t bother her; the thought of him being with someone else. Hell, he’s been with lots of women by his own admission and she’d never thought twice about it or even cared what or who’d been done prior to her. Aside from Nik.  His past is just that. In the same way hers is.  But when your father in law –sick or not- constantly refers to you by the ex-wife's name despite the fact it’s been sixteen years and the two of you look nothing alike, it tends to weigh you down.

She tries to put it out of her mind, concentrating on the baby pressed to her chest as she feeds, and Millie twenty yards away already making friends.

“I don’t know how she does it,” she comments. “Everywhere we go it’s like this.”

Tyler lies on his stomach beside her, a cheek resting on the forearm he’d been using as a pillow. And he raises his head and glances over his shoulder to where his daughter is sitting in the wet sand, playing and animatedly conversing with other kids.  

“Give it a few minutes,” he says. “She’ll punch one of them in the face and that’ll be the end of it.”

Esme frowns.

“She’s like you,” he says with a yawn, and rests his back down on his arm, face turned towards her.

“I don’t punch people in the face five minutes after I meet them.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean she’s social. She makes friends easily. People are drawn to her. It’s the same way with you.”

“I was paid to be that way.”

“You can’t fake shit like that. People either like you or they don’t. It was just a plus that it made it easier to sweet talk and manipulate them afterwards.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or...”

“I mean it worked on me didn’t it,” he chides.

“You’re such an ass sometimes,” she complains, but there’s a smile on her face as she leans down to place a chaste on his lips.

“You think you’d be used to that after almost seven years.”

“I obviously am. I’m still here, aren’t I.”

“Yeah...”  he grins and reaches out to lay a hand on her thigh. “You are. For some goddamn reason you’re still around. And I’m still putting up with it.”

“You’d be miserable if I suddenly wasn’t around anymore. Well, more miserable than you already are,” she teases, and then gives a small yelp and directs a kick in his direction when he pinches the inside of her thigh.  

Rolling over onto his back, he groans at the stiffness in his shoulders and neck as he props himself up on his elbows, knee audibly cracking when he stretches out his legs.

“Baby, every day your body is making more and more noise.” she comments, and while it’s meant to be playful, he can hear the concern that tinges the words.

“You think the noises are bad, you should feel what it’s like to be in this body.”

He’s been pushing himself too hard in the gym; extending hour and a half work out to nearly three. More work than he’d put into getting into the shape he’s in now. He’s already thirty pounds heavier than he’d been in Dhaka; shoulders and chest wider, arms bigger, calves and thighs more powerful.  He’s the most confident he’s been in years; physically he knows he’s up to any challenge that he could face IF he has to go get back into the game. The skills never leave you; they’ll come back quicker and sharper than ever once he trains Ovi.  His worry is his mental state; if his brain will be able to handle the strain and the pace and the things he’ll have to resort to in order to stay alive.

“She’s more like you than you realize,” Tyler says, as he watches Millie with her new friends; smiling at the sound of her laugh and the sight of her smile.

“Oh please,” Esme laughs. “Where do you see this? Because she is all you. Head to toe. You even have the same ears and the same feet. Never mind the facial expressions and the attitude.”

“There’s a lot of you in here. I see it more every day. How easy she trusts people and makes new friends. And never mind how fucking smart she is. She’s scary almost. That she’s THAT smart.”

“She’s the perfect mix of both of us, I guess. Everything that’s amazing in you and everything that’s amazing in me. Although I think we both know where she got all her bad stuff from.”

He stares at her pointedly.

“As if Tyler. She totally got her asshole side from you. You can’t convince me otherwise. Where do you think she got her temper and her mouth from?”

“And luckily for her, she got the looks from me too.”

“You’re such a fucker,” Esme laughs, and flicks her thumb and forefinger against his earlobe. “Are you calling me ugly?”

“Never. Look how beautiful Addie is and she looks just like you.”

She smirks. “That was an extremely good save on your part.”

“You know you’re the most beautiful woman in the world to me, baby. There’s no one that can come close to you and you know that.”

She does. It’s one of the things he’s always been good at ; making her feel like she’s the most incredible woman on the face of the earth. Always finding ways to let her know how beautiful she is in his eyes. It could be in his eyes when he simply looks at her; whether she’s dressed up with makeup on or it’s five thirty in the morning and her hair is a half assed ponytail and yesterday’s eyeliner is smudges and she already has baby puke on her pajamas. Or the little compliments he tosses if when she’s least expecting it, or how he kisses and touches her when their love making is slow and tender and he spends his time worshipping every inch of her body.  There’s never a time where she hasn’t felt unattractive in his eyes. Even when she’s constantly bringing attention to all her faults and blemishes.

“And I would be miserable,” he says. “If you weren’t around anymore.”

He hates thinking about it; what it would be like if -for some unknown and horrible reason- he found himself as a single father to give kids. And it’s been weighing heavier on his mind since Michael McMann had revealed all of the sick and twisted things he would have done to her before killing her. It has only added insult to injury; for years he’s been carrying around the secret of the real details behind Gaspar’s five million dollar offer and what Asif had had in store for her. Some of things are just better left unsaid, and it’s a burden he’s willing to carry for the rest of his life.

“You’re that used to me, are you?” She chides, attempting to inject a little humour into a suddenly tense situation. She knows how his brain works; the wheels that start turning when he begins to dwell on the ‘what if’s’.  And she hates the way his smile disappears and his features harden and eyes darken.  “You’ve gotten that spoiled? Having someone do your laundry, clean up after you, put out whenever you want.”

That manages to get a grin out of him, and he rolls over onto his side, pressing a kiss to her thigh before resting on his elbow, side of head in his palm.

“That’s your bad shoulder,” she points out.

“It’s fine. Hardly bothering me today.”

“And by hardly bothering you, you mean on a pain scale of one to ten, you’re at a twelve instead of...I don’t know...a hundred.”

“You worry too much.”

“Oh I’m sorry. I’m sorry I care about you and want you to be okay. I’m sorry that I’d you to live past fifty. That I’d like us to grow old and gray together and constantly drive one another instead until I take my last breath.”

“A bad shouldn’t isn’t going to kill me.”

“You said yourself it’s getting worse.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s going to put me in an early grave. So stop…” he reaches across his body with his free hand and rubs her knee, kissing her thigh once more. “I’m fine. I’ll get it looked at as soon as this shit with Ovi is done. I promise.”

“You’re so goddamn stubborn,” she huffs.

“So you tell me. Every single day. For the past almost seven years. I’m fine...honest…” his hand rests on her legal fingers brushing against the smooth, sensitive skin at the back of her knee. “If there was something really wrong, I’d tell you.”

“You would?”

His eyes fix on hers.

“Don’t give me that look,” Esme scolds. “Don’t use those eyes against me. You know they’re my weakness.”

“I thought your weakness was my back and shoulders.”

“The eyes are what get me the most. And the easiest. How do you think you managed to seduce me as easily as you did?”

He gives a sly grin. “I thought it had something to do with the hand I had around your throat.”

“You’re dirty.”

“You like it.”

She just grins.

“You don’t have to admit it. You’ve made it pretty obvious. I mean, we don’t have five kids for nothing.”

“We could have made them all through boring old vanilla sex,” she points.

“Only we know we didn’t, so…” her rolls onto his stomach once more, attempting to relieve some of the discomfort in his joints. And he drapes an arm over her thighs, side of his head once again resting on a forearm.

And he closes his eyes; the calmest he’s been all day with the sun beating down on his tired and aching body, relaxed by the sound of the ocean and the feel of her skin against his.

***

“Are we going to talk about it?” Esme inquires.

“About what?” Tyler mumbles sleepily.

“About what happened today. On the way to your dad’s.”

“It was a panic attack,” he states matter-of-factly.

“I know that.”

“I’ve had them before. You’ve been with me for most of them.”

“And I know that too.”

“I thought we got past it. It was only a few minutes and…”

“Forty five.”

His eyes flicker open. “What?”

“It was forty five minutes.”

Tyler frowns. Had it really been that long? Time hadn’t seemed to drag that slow. He would have swore it was ten minutes, tops. Not closer to sixty.  “Are you sure?”

“I timed it. From the time you got out of the truck and when you got back in. It was forty five minutes.”

“That has to be some kind of record,” he dryly remarks.

“This isn’t a joke, Tyler. They’re getting worse. They’re getting more intense and they’re lasting longer and…”

“I’m taking the meds if that’s what you’re going to ask next. I haven’t skipped any days.”

“Maybe you need to be on different meds,” Esme suggests, as she peeks under the edge of the receiving blanket that protects Addie from the sun. She’s fallen asleep mid feed and her mother runs a finger tip along the bottom of both feet to tickle her awake. And the baby gives a small start and then returns to eating. “Stronger meds.”

“I don’t want to be on any meds.”

“Well that’s not an option, is it. What is going on with you, Tyler? Ever since this whole Ovi thing. You’ve just been...I don’t know...off.”

“Do we have to talk about this now? Here? Can’t we wait until we get home?”

“There’s people at our house.”

“There’s people here too,” he points out.

“Strangers. Who aren’t even listening.”

“I already told you. The shit with Ovi’s brought a lot up to the surface. Things I haven’t thought about since we left Colorado. About the job.”

“And the fact you miss it.”

“Are we going to fight? If we’re going to fight, let’s just stop now, yeah? Because I do not want to fight with you. Especially about this.”

“I don’t want to fight with you either. But that hurt. Hearing that. Hearing you say you miss it and you’d rather be out there than home with your family.”

“First of all…” he pushes himself up onto his elbows. “...that is not what I said. I did not say I’d rather be doing the job than be with you and the kids. I’d never fucking say that. I said I miss it sometimes. Not that I want to go back to it. That’s the last fucking thing I want.”

“How can you miss it and not want to go back? That makes no sense.”

“It’s not the actual job I miss. It’s the pace of things. Constantly moving from one thing to the next. No time to think too much and dwell on shit. Now I have too much time to think and it’s doing my fucking head in and I feel like I’m going insane. I went from that to this…” he nods in Addie’s direction. “...and it’s two entirely different things and I’m having a harder time dealing with it than I thought I would.”

“Do you regret it? Going from that to this?”

“Of course I don’t. All that matters to me is you and the kids. You know that. But sometimes I miss the way things were. Not the beating the shit out of people, not the blood, not the killing, not the crazy shit. Just the pace. That’s it.”

“The escape of it.”

“Yeah. I don’t know. I guess. I can’t explain it. I just know how it feels. Do I want to go back to it? Fuck no. I have way too much to lose.”

“Would you go back if there was no me?”

“Esme, I never would have stopped doing it. And if there was no you, I’d be dead. So that question doesn’t even make sense. If there was no you, I would have died in Dhaka. That’s not a maybe. That’s a sure thing.”

“And if I was to say that I’d be okay with it if…”

“But you wouldn’t be,” Tyler doesn’t give her the chance to finish. “So why even ask that?”

“Because if it’s the only thing that’s going to keep you happy and sane…”

“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying. I am happy. With you and the kids. I’m happy with my life. I’m just having a hard time letting go of who I was before.  Just because I miss it sometimes doesn’t mean I want to go back. The job was an escape, like you said. From my shitty fucking life. If I hadn’t had the job, I would have killed myself a long time ago. But now I have you and I have my kids and that’s all I want. I just need time; to let this go. And I need you to stop taking it personally. This isn’t about you and I, this isn’t about the kids. It’s all about me.”

She nods slowly, considering his words. And neither speak for several minutes; her eyes fixated on Millie and her new friends as they laugh and splash in the water, his eyes intently watching her.  Chewing nervously on her bottom lip and fidgeting with a loose thread on the edge of the receiving blanket; eyes hidden behind the sunglasses she’d stolen off him earlier.

“If going back is what you need to do, then…” she shrugs. “...you need to do it, I guess.”

“I already said I’m not going back. I don’t want to go back. Why…?”

“If the job is what’s going to keep you sane, you need to do it. Because I don’t want you staying home and then finding out six months later or a year later or two years later than you were unhappy the entire time. Because that will turn into a lot of regret and a lot of animosity and I don’t want that. Because that will destroy us. A lot quicker than the job will.”

“Fuck me…” he groans, and rakes a hand through his hair. “Are you even listening to me? I don’t want to go back. You’re assuming I do because I said I missed it. I gave it up. To be with you. To be with my kids. I walked away. For you. For us. And now you’re telling me it's okay I go back and abandon my family like all the times I did before. That makes no fucking sense.”

“I just want you to be happy,” she explains. “And if that’s what makes you happy.”

“For fuck sakes,” Tyler snarls. “That’s not what makes me happy. You make me happy. Our kids make me happy. Not the job. Fuck the job. All I said was that sometimes I miss it. The pace. The not having time to sit and overthink shit and dwell on everything. That’s all I said.”

“I don’t know what more to do,” she confesses, sounding dangerously close to tears. “I don’t know how else to help you. And it just seems easier if I just give up and you back. Because I’d rather you do that and things go back to somewhat normal than see you going through what you’re going through now. Mauve that was our ‘normal’.  The job. You being gone so much and me just dealing with it.”

“None of that is normal,” Tyler argues. “That’s a fucked up version of normal.”

“But it worked.”

“Until it didn’t. Until things really started to go to shit in New Zealand. Or are we just going to pretend that never happened?”

She sighs heavily.

“It was my decision to leave. I gave it up. Willingly. Because I couldn’t do it anymore. Because I was sick all the bullshit that came with it. I was tired of leaving you and the kids and constantly worrying about whether I was going to make it home or not. And I know you don’t want to think about that every time I walk out the door; whether or not I’m coming back.”

“That’s the last thing I want. But…”

“How can there be a ‘but’? How is this making any sense to you? The job would only make things worse.”

“I could learn to deal with,” Esme insists. “And I did deal with it.”

“Until you couldn’t anymore and you kicked my ass out. Or did you forget about that? Six months, remember? We were apart six months and I was a fucking mess. All I did was work and drink and fuck things up with you and my kids. I’m not going through that again. And you shouldn’t want to either.”

“It wouldn’t get that bad this time. We wouldn’t let it. There were other things going on then, too. Not just the job. You went back to drinking and the meds, and it all mixed together and it was a complete and utter shit show. But this time…”

“It’s a stupid fucking idea and you know it and I can’t believe you’d even bring it up. Like what the fuck, Esme?”

“So what do we do? Because I am all out of ideas, Tyler. I don’t know what more I can do to help you deal with whatever you’re dealing with. I get you miss it. I do. And I knew it would be hard for you  to walk away; it was a huge change in your life. But there’s many things going on and you’re keeping them inside and I don’t know how to get through to you.”

“So you just want to give up? Just say ‘fuck it, go back to the job and get yourself killed’? Because that’s what it sounds like. That you’re giving up. On me. On us.”

“I am not giving up,” she argues. “If the job is the one thing that can actually keep everything together…”

“Esme…” he sighs heavily, then closes his eyes briefly, hand splayed across his forehead; thumb rubbing at one temple, fingers working at the other. “...it’s what nearly destroyed us before. What makes you think this time would be any different?”

“Because this time I’m telling you I’m okay with it. If you feel it’s what you need to do, I’m fine with it. I’m giving you my permission. It’s not like you’re just going ahead and making the decision on your own like last time.”

“No. You’re making the decision for me. You’re deciding it’s the only way to fix things and I’m telling you it’s not the answer.”

“So what is?”

“I don’t fucking know,” he snaps, voice louder and much harsher than he’d intended it to be. And he sits up turning his body to face the water, their shoulders pressed together. “The job is not the answer,” he insists. “I don’t know what is, but it’s not that. I won’t survive if I go back. I already know that. Not with everything else that’s going on.”

An eyebrow lifts. “Everything else? What…?”

“There’s something I need to tell you. And I should have told you soon as it started. But we just had Addie and you were going through your own shit and I didn’t want to add to it and make things worse for you.”

“Oh God,” she grumbles. “How bad is it?”

“It’s pretty bad.”

“Are you having an affair?”

“What?” He gives an incredulous laugh. “No. Fuck no. That is the last thing I’d ever do. I’m not a cheater. You know that.”

“So it’s worse than that?”

“Yeah...I guess...in its own way.”

“Tyler, what have you done?”

“It’s pretty fucked up and you’re going to be pissed or disgusted or both. I don’t know.”

“Tyler…”

“I started about a week ago. When Ovi brought all this job shit up. I didn’t think much of it at first. Because I’ve had weak moments before. You know that. That there’s times I’ve felt like I was slipping.”

“With alcohol.”

He nods. “That day we went out for lunch. That place he picked was a sports bar.”

“Please tell me you didn’t…”

“Drink? No. I didn’t. But I could smell it. I could even taste it. So I just got away from it the best I could and I never thought about it again the entire time I was there.”

“Okay, so you had a weak moment. That’s not unusual. Even the doctor said…”

“I thought that’s all it was. I’ve had them before. Where I thought I wanted to drink; something to just take the edge off. But then it started getting worse and worse and started thinking about it all the time. Especially when the nightmares started. And suddenly I couldn’t control it. The need for it. Especially after last night.”

“Tyler…” she inhales deeply and exhales slowly, attempting to keep her composure.  “...what did you do?”

“Nothing. I wanted to, but I didn’t. But I was so close, Esme. I was so fucking close. To actually leaving the house and finding a way to get it. And not just the booze. The meds too. The Oxy. I was so fucking close,” his voice falters; a mixture of shame and defeat. It’s the first time he’s actually let the addiction beat him. For months he’s been battling it. Confidently. And although there’d been times he felt as if he were slipping, he’d always been able to shake it. Now he feels as if he’s drowning; addiction pulling him down and refusing to let him go unless he surrenders.  

And that’s the last thing he wants.

“Even the Oxy?”

He can hear it in her voice; the emotion that weighs down every word. And he closes his eyes in a vain attempt to hold back the flood of tears that threaten to escape. “Yeah…” he admits. “...even those.”

“Why? Why all of a sudden? Why…?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought of them before. It’s always been just the booze. And then nightmares about Austin and Millie started and then last night about my mum and my dad when I was just a kid and the pain…” he shakes his head. “...I’m in so much fucking pain. All the time. And I don’t know if it’s physical or mental or what the fuck it is. I just know I need something...anything...to just take it away.”

She places Addie in the middle of the blanket and moves closer to him; on her knees as she wraps an arm around his shoulders and then places her free hand on the side of his head, drawing it down towards her.

“Don’t..” he objects. “...people are fucking staring.”

“So? Fucking let them. Who cares?” Her fingers are in his hair; tips massaging his scalp. And he circles her waist with both arms and rests his forehead against her shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to. I just couldn’t. Not when you’ve already got so much else going on. Not when you’ve got your own issues and your own shit to deal with. I didn’t want to make things worse.”

“It would have made it worse...so much worse...had you gone ahead and started back up again. That would have been the worst possible thing that could have happened. You should have told me.”

“I thought I could just deal with it on my own. I’ve done it before.”

“But you shouldn’t have to deal with it alone. And you don’t have to. Jesus Christ, Tyler. You have to stop doing this.  Keeping everything inside of you. This doesn’t just affect you. You’re an addict. You’ll always be an addict. You’re always going to have to fight. You can’t just go back on that shit and then come off it and over and over again.  It doesn’t work like that.”

“I know. I know it doesn’t.”

“You need to tell someone. The therapist. The doctor. Someone.”

“I’m telling you.”

“Someone can actually help you. I can only do so much. I can help you and talk you down and get you away from it, but eventually that’s not going to work anymore. You need help. Professional help.”  

“So they can send me back to rehab? Weeks away from my family?”

“You haven’t actually relapsed. They wouldn’t send you there unless you did. But they can stop you from needing to go back. That’s what you want, right? You don’t actually want to be that way again, do you?”

“Of course I don’t. But that’s all I know. That’s how I coped. The meds and the booze. I don’t know anything else.”

“And that’s what they’ll help you with. Finding ways to cope. You’re not the first person that’s come to them with this, trust me.”

“I feel like a huge fucking failure. Like I’m just one big fuck up after another.”

“First of all, you’re not a failure. People relapse. It happens. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last. And second, you’re not a fuck up. You’re strong and you’re brave and…”

“Stop...just stop...stop saying that shit…”

You’re strong and you’re brave,” she adamantly continues. “And you’ve been through so much in the past seven years alone. Things that would have easily killed a weaker person. You’ve been through hell and back and you still don’t give up. So you stop. You stop shit talking yourself all the time. You are not a failure and you’re not weak and you’re definitely not a quitter.”

“I swear to God if you tell me not to let anyone dull my sparkle…”

She laughs at that. “Well, your beard does still have glitter in it.  I meant to tell you earlier and I never got around to it and you’ve been walking around looking a little sparkly today.”

“What the fuck…” he pulls away, running a palm over his beard and then frowning at the glitter that sparkles against his skin. “...are you fucking kidding me?”

“I told you that shit gets everywhere. And it takes forever to get it out. I mean, it’s not a bad color on you at least.”

“I’m going to have to shave the whole thing off.”

“Like hell you are. It will come out. Eventually.”

He frowns. “How long is eventually?”

“Two or three…”

“Days?”

“Weeks? Months? I don’t know.”

“Jesus Christ..”

“It’s not that bad,” Esme assures him. “Honest. It’s only a little bit here and there. And someone will only notice it if they get really close to your face. Or when the sun hits it just right.”

“It’s coming off,” he decides. “As soon as we get home.”

“Does it help if I tell you it looks cute?”

“That makes it fucking worse!”

“Don’t shave your beard off. Not all the way. Trim it if you have to. But don’t get rid of it entirely. I’ll cry. Ugly cry. And you don’t when I ugly cry, so…”

“I hate when you ugly cry.”

“Exactly. And I’ll ugly cry times ten if you shave your beard right off. And I’ll ever have sex with you again. Ever. You’ll have tons of calluses on your palms in one month alone.”

“I already have calluses,” he reminds her.

“You’ll have more. A lot more. Tons. Because I will cut you off and I will not give in and I know you won’t go and get it somewhere else so...yeah...callouses.”

“First you were upset about the hair. Now it’s the beard.”

“I caved in with the hair. And I still miss that hair. But I’m not giving in when it comes to this. I don’t care if you trim it. Just don’t get rid of it. It’s how I know you. How I’ve always known you. It’s like a security blanket for me. So don’t…” she pecks his lips. “...please?”

“You are so fucking lucky I love you.”

“I am,” she agrees. “And we’re going to get through this. Everything that you’re going through. We’ve gotten through a lot worse. IF we can survive that first year after Dhaka, I’m pretty sure we get through anything.”

“I still have to do this shit for Ovi. And if he fucks up…”

“Anything,” she insists, and kisses him again. Longer this time; holding his face in her hands. “You’re not in this alone, Thyler. You need to remember that.”

“I know.”

“And Millie’s on her way over here…”  she removes the sunglasses from her face and slips them over his eyes, preventing their daughter from seeing him close to tears.

She knows daddy cries; that a lot of daddies cry. And that it doesn’t make them weak or ‘girly’. But she’s fiercely protective of him and when he shows emotion, she can’t hold back her own water works.

“You are soaked, little miss.” Esme frowns. “I hope daddy remembered to pack that change of clothes I asked him to put in the car before we left.”

“I’ve got my shit together,” Tyler confirms. “Do you have to…” he begins, then groans when Millie not only tackles him onto his back, but plops down heavily on his lower stomach. “...jump on me.”

“Now daddy’s all wet,” Esme sighs. “And I know he doesn’t have a change of clothes.”

“It’s not that,” he speaks through gritted teeth. “Do you know where she just landed? And how hard she landed on it?”

“I think your voice just went up five  octaves,” his wife teases. “Are you okay?”

“No. No I’m not. Remember that frozen bag of peas?  I think I’m going to need another one when we get home.”

“Listen buddy, I’ve pushed five kids out my you know where, I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m suddenly feeling really bad about kicking Saju in the nuts in Dhaka. Millie, you know how you said you didn’t want another brother?”

“Yep,” she responds.

“I’m pretty certain you just made sure that’s not even remotely possible anymore.”

“Mommy will have to kiss it better later,” Esme says, tousling his hair and then tending to buckling Addie into her carrier.

“You’re damn right you will. It’s your daughter that did this.”

“Oh so now she’s just my daughter. That’s not how it works. We went fifty-fifty on her. You put in ten minutes of work, I put in nine months.”

“Ten minutes my ass. It’s never been only ten minutes. Especially during those five days.”

“Are you going to be okay? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

Tyler flips her the middle finger. “You should give it mouth to mouth.”

“You’re a pig.”

“You’re the one who offered to kiss it better. Millie…” he grabs her by the hips and moves her off of him. “...you used to be my favorite. Why you do me like this?”

“Ice cream would make you feel better,” she concludes.

“What am I going to do? Put it down my pants?”

“Stop it,” Esme scolds. “Little ears! And you, Amelia, are right. Ice cream would make daddy feel better. And so would buying ice cream. For us.”

“Millie’s walking home, just so you know,” Tyler grumbles, as he struggles to his feet; hobbled more by the pain in his knee than the damage his daughter had inflicted.

“No I’m not!” she argues, and then shrieks when he grabs her by the hips and holds her over his head, settling her on his shoulder. “I’m not walking.”

“You can jog beside the truck. I’ll drive slow.”

“I don’t think so daddy,” she wraps her legs around his neck and rests her chin on top of his head. “Mommy would never let you make me jog.”

“Mommy can jog with you.”

“Like hell she can,” Esme scoffs. “Only time I’m running or jogging is if zombies are chasing me.”

“Zombies aren’t real,” Millie informs her.

“I don’t know,” Tyler says. “Have you ever seen your mother at five thirty in the morning? Ow! Shit!” He grimaces when his wife grabs a hold of the top of his left hip and pinches as hard as she can. “That actually hurt.”

“I could take you,” she informs him.

“Yeah? Let’s go right now. Me and you. One on one,” he playfully challenges, and grabbing a hold of her ponytail, gives it a firm tug.

“You shit!” she retorts, and retaliates by kicking him in the ass.

“You’re so lucky you didn’t go for the front like the savage I know you are,” Tyler grins, then snags her by the wrist and pulls her tight into his side. Hand settling on her hip, lips finding her temple. And her own hand briefly rests on the small of his back, then slips its way into the pocket of his jeans.

For that moment, everything seems right in the world. And he feels optimistic. About fighting his demons.

About the future.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character #extraction

[willowkeyes-creates]

A Brothers Smile

This is what happens when I get an idea, write, and have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. Hopefully it’s somewhat decent. Brotherly Creativitwins hurt/comfort.

Warnings: Blood, broken bones, tinnitus mention, Remus mentions drawing dorks, angst, hurt/comfort, open ended but I like to think that it ends up okay

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

Remus ran as fast as his body allowed. His legs ached as he willed them to keep him moving through the Imagination. His chest burned as his eyes stung with unshed tears. His torso still hurt from the sudden pains he had gotten but those pains have been forgotten now.

He should have been there. Thomas had loads of intrusive thoughts during and after the wedding; it would have been easy to join the conversation. But no, he wanted to give Roman a break. He may argue with him, tell him that he's evil and disgusting and bad... But there are no other Sides that understand Remus like Roman does. They don't understand what it's like to be half of a whole.

They don't understand what it's like to be able to feel your brother dying with whatever magic links them together.

Remus passes the foul-smelling swamp, the burnt meadows, the forest with trees so thick you'd get lost within an instant. He follows the array of colours in the sky that all head in one direction; the dragons from both sides of the Imagination wanting to help their creators as much as they can. He doesn’t remember calling them, but he won’t send them away. They’re the last things that he and Roman had made together. 

Dark blue scales with wings that shine and glow like the sky on a light-pollutant free night. They fly above and watch the Duke; more curious of him than of their destination.

Stormy purple dragons that are as fast as lightning zip across the sky; scaring away any animals or creatures that may interfere. They don’t get close to their creators, being the timid creatures they are. Remus always feels their piercing eyes on him though.

The bright yellow dragons are his beacon. They show the way; hanging lower than the others in case the Duke has need of them. He won't and they know this, but they do so anyway. These ones have always been their stubborn yet loyal protectors.

Ahead sit a crowd of smaller, baby blue dragons with fur barely visible on the ligaments of their wings. They light up the area with their very presence; creating a path for the tired Duke that feels warm and comforting. Or, it tries to be. The blood seeping into the rocky path seems to absorb whatever comfort the creations could bring.

His brother lays in the middle of the path; bloodied and broken. His arm is at an angle that anyone would grimace at; even Remus. His face is covered in that one red that he knows that the Prince isn't overly fond of. It's already beginning to dry. Claw marks sit across his chest, staining his perfectly white attire while his sash lays missing from sight. 

His katana lays in pieces beside him. Broken and bloodied; just like it's owner.

"Roman. Roman, please." He knows that he hasn't sounded this destroyed in years. Not since Roman left him. And yet, he holds the one who left him close as his green magic crackles around the both of them. It sounds like tinnitus; a constant ringing in one’s ears that never seems to go away. He tries listening to Roman’s breathing instead, but the wheezing and periodic gasping only makes his eye shadow smudge across his cheeks.

It feels like hours after having found his brother had the green turned into a gentle pink. Magic that Remus hasn’t seen in a millennia. It feels as old as time itself to him, and perhaps it is. His time did begin when pink had split into green and red.

"G-Good... You... You're alive... You're not allowed to die on me..."

"Tired..." The Duke sniffs and wipes his thumb across his brother's cheek, getting rid of those pesky tears that ruin his face. He's supposed to be the pretty one; he'll help him out with that this one time. He'll draw a dork or two on his face later to make up for it. He’ll get yelled at, maybe even chased across the Mindscape if he’s lucky. It’d be a miracle if he also got to hear his laugh mix with Roman’s once more.

"I-I know. It's okay to be tired."

"... 'M sorry..."

"Me too, bro. I'm here now. It's okay."

His heart doesn't stop hurting when those bright green eyes seem to smile at him; it only begins to undo it's tight coils when he hears that delicious snap of a bone being put back into place. The scream that came with it... wasn't as nice. 

"Shhh... I've got you... Get some sleep, Ro."

"I... 'm s-scared..."

He should destroy everything. Roman was supposed to be brave and daring and dashing and whatever other cheesy things that Thomas likes; not beaten and bloody and crying into his brother’s chest from all of this pain. Mental. Physical. Both. Maybe even other types. Who knows- Who fucking cares!? Everything should burn and bleed for doing this to his brother. To his blood. His other half.

"I'm not going anywhere. You c-can't get rid of me that easily, Ro..!" His words aren't as sharp and annoying as usual, but that's fine. The smile that his brother gets as the baby blue dragons curl around them and a flurry of the comforting colours dances overhead is worth it. That's all he wants. That's all he's ever wanted.

"... I’m… I’m glad..."

He just wants his brother to smile.

#i don't know what this is but I hope it's decent #creativitwins #brotherly creativitwins #roman sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides #post-SvS redux #tw blood #tw broken bones #remus mentioning drawing dorks #roman angst #roman whump #uuuh idk what to tag #willowkeyes writes

[lucyintheskywithtemplars]

AC: Ragnarok--no, that’s a Thor movie--Valhalla!

Okay! So. I was in a teleconference today (because the one thing that hasn’t shut down during this pandemic is Construction, Especially of Hospitals) when Ubisoft did their Thing. So I missed it. But now: time to watch the trailer.

(I did get to passively, distractedly watch the art thing yesterday they did on twitter, but all I got from it was pretty landscapes and silhouette of a Big Guy, so aside from the Ubisoft AC Special (TM), and VIKINGS, I don’t know what I’m about to see. Huzzah!)

Disclaimer: I tried to keep my language clean, but that failed at some point

Bullet points, go!

1. So.... that’s looking to be a fairly burly guy. Or at least very well armoured.

2. If there is no option to play as a lady this time I will S C R E A M and then promptly wage internet war (no I won’t). Kass spoiled me, you can’t take that away from me, Ubisoft!

3. A priestess woman... is she our female playable character?

4. It’s taken me until now to figure out that the voice over narration is an actual character speaking and not just... a random voice over narrator.

5. LOL the narration is all about how they kill indiscriminately and of course Ubisoft pairs that with a “oh look at this woman and her child(ren?), let’s allow them to run away from the fighting and violence and not kill them” and I mean. This is AC of course they’re going to make their protag / protag’s people look good, so I’m not surprised, and knowing that this is a character narration means it’s propaganda to some degree (Templaaaaars!). I’m just. You’re really going out of your way to show where the lines are drawn, but in the most subtle manner you can manage, eh?

6. I gotta say: that switch from actual battle to play fighting and training with the fam? That’s a nice transition. Almost as good as the ones for the Origins Theatrical Trailer (all caps, because that? Is the shit. Still my favourite. Leonard Cohen! Bayek! Aya/Amunet! Egypt! Cleo and Caesar and did I say Bayek! And SENU, MY LOVE <3 <3 <3 <3 <3).

7. I didn’t bother to look up what year (decade) this is set in exactly, but I’m going to assume it’s pre-Christianization of the Scandiwegian countries/lands, so that means A) this is probably not going to have a happy ending, and B) my immediate reaction of KING JOHN! WHERE IS ROBIN HOOD? Is way off base

8. Guy in the background is reminding me of what’s his face from ACII. Damn it. I remember Savonarola, but not him. The Gonfallioniere (sp?). I’m recording all of my thoughts trying to remember this fool’s name because it’s bugging me so much I SHOULD KNOW IT. Um. What’s his face. The Betrayer. That guy. Getting those same vibes from Mister Background For The King. (An eminence grise?)

9. AAAAAAND... BATTLE! This is feeling like that one mission in AC3, where they tricked us into thinking we could do the same thing in actual play as Connor did in the trailer. THAT’S WHAT I’M FEELING, I am Worried. Not super stealthy to be front and centre in a giant free for all!

10. (I say like the entire premise of this game isn’t VIKINGS. What do I know)

11. WHAT IS THAT FLORENTINE LAWYER GUY’S NAME?????

12. So the... leader? Chief? Head honcho? The dude gets taken out and the guy-who-is-I-guess-our-boy just lobs that... axe? Very nice.

13. A hooded person! So maybe we actually ARE being stealthy? Is that our boy/girl?

14. No, my bad, that was just fucking god. (KASS? IS THAT YOU?)

15. “Odin is with us!” Well, that was definitely our standard bird of prey that just took off (I’m including Corvids in this--I just 100% typo’ed that as “Covid”, I’ve Pavlov’d my fingers apparently). So random hooded person who is Not Odin what is wrong with you is... maybe probably our boy/girl? Nice. And dude who is speaking is not?

(15.2. I have to admit, I’m on my second watch, and I’m still having trouble keeping track of who is who between each scene. Is the guy who meets the priestess and gets blood markings the same one we see talking? Is it the leader who gets shanked in the battle? Is it someone else entirely? I don’t know! I’m just going to assume that we’re focusing on the guy who speaks during the battle because of Reasons From Further Points.)

16. No, seriously, what is that fool’s name from Florence? Damnit.

17. Dude-on-a-horse! ...I’m assuming you’re the guy from the scene with the King. And now you’re on a horse! With a... giant of a man beside you. (Ser Gregor Clegane, is that you?)

18. Holy shit it might be, I want a normal person to stand beside both Mister Mountain and our boy, how big are you guys????? Height, muscle, mass, weight, armour, all of the above? The scales for these people look. So weird.

19. Mario Kart 64 had the battle rounds for two or more players? And when you selected it there was that (Luigi?) voice clip that said, “Battol!” Yeah, I definitely heard that when our boy faced off with Mister Mountain.

20. NOT LOOKING TOO HOT THERE, P.O.V. CHARACTER, MAYBE YOU NEED A LITTLE HELP FROM YOUR HOODED FRIEND?

21. HA! HELP GRANTED AND--

22. YOU ARE FUCKING KIDDING ME. Now I need to go back and rewatch and see if I can pick up on that bracer from earlier scenes. (And over the back of the hand? Definitely a follow through Origins then.)

23. THE SHIT. IS THIS.

24. !!!!!!!! ALBERTO UMBERTI! YOU FUCKER I FORGOT YOUR NAME!!!! Anyway.

25. But yeah, I was really hoping for some kind of surprise stealth kill like the arrow storms from Brotherhood, but... this works? I guess? I DON’T KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS.

26. I lied--I know exactly how I feel about this. Very... RPG-ish, more God of War than AC. I’m probably going to enjoy it anyway because I do enjoy God of War, but since this is supposed to fit in the timeline between Origins and ACI (Altair! It’s been too long, I’ve missed you, your arrogant prick), I was kind of hoping for something that leaned more towards the stealth of Altair (except for when I’m playing the game) and less the knock-em-down, drag-em-out brawling of Odyssey.

On the other hand, our boy (and hopefully lady!) goes a-viking, so. I don’t know why I thought it might be anything different?

27. I didn’t comment on the music but! This sounds familiar! It has a very Woodkid-vibe to it, but without being Woodkid (I think?????). And lots of sound effects, of course, so I’m going to have to look this up to get a proper feel for it. It just sort of... faded into the background except in one or two spots, and I know that’s what you want for good sound mixing, but this is a trailer, not a feature length film, I want to hear the song. I’m assuming it was chosen for a reason, I’d like to be able to tell what that reason is.

(27.2 They actually used a song from Jonsi for the Black Flag trailer, and since Sigur Ros is from Iceland this might have been the better time to use it... oh! Wait I can just go look up if they have a track similar to this. Exciting!) (I apologize for the lack of proper spelling there, I’m fighting with my keyboard to make it type English characters properly, let alone ones that my computer considers “special” characters :\ )

Thoughts: Okay, well, one trailer and me otherwise ignoring all the rumours for AC means I have nothing solid to really form an opinion about. Aside from A+++++ animation quality, Ubisoft, you never fail in that department. (Game quality and glitches, on the other hand... I still remember Arno’s L’Oreal commercial, Ubisoft,)

I’m excited to see northern Europe and the British Isles in game form! It might be the only form of travelling I get to do in the next few months. ...even though this is supposed to be out just before New Years?

I said just above that I had Thoughts on how the story would be bridged between Origins and ACI, and I still do, but I’m intrigued to see where and how Ubisoft is going to take this and play with it. I also need to check and see if they’ve confirmed a timeline/decade/year that this takes place in, so I can go pour over all the history from that time period. ...and maaaaaaybe we’ll get to go see Constantinople when it was Constantinople and before it became Istanbul during Ezio’s lifetime (ish)?

AC: Revelations: fighting with Jannisaries. AC: Valhalla (DLC?): fighting as a Varangian Guard (the sort-of precursor to the Jannisaries)

A girl can dream, right?

#meco livefails ACV #HA #I DON'T NEED TO COME UP WITH A ANOTHER WAY TO WRITE THE ACRONYM! #SUCCESS! #ACO and ACOdy kept messing me up lbr #anyway #I might post my Thoughts about bridging ACO to ACV later #and yes #it really did bother me that much that I couldn't remember Umberti's name #I'm still not 100% sure that's right #but I can't actually be assed to look it up #assassin's creed #assassin's creed valhalla

[davidmann95]

Best comics of 2018?

A handful of disqualifications up front: since they’re just beginning, I’m not counting Electric Warriors, Martian Manhunter, The Green Lantern (though Evil Star explaining his name in #2 might be my favorite moment in comics this year), Ironheart, DIE, Shazam!, Killmonger, The Batman Who Laughs, or Miles Morales: Spider-Man, all of which almost certainly would have ended up somewhere in here with some more time. Additionally, I switched to a new online pull list system in March, so I don’t have a list of what I got before then - if I’m forgetting about something great that came out early this year, there’s a good chance that would be why.

Honorary Mentions: While there were plenty of comics I was happy to keep up with, a number stood out as exemplary examples of straight-take relatively traditional capeshit: Scott Snyder, James Tynion IV and companies’ Justice League, Steve Orlando’s Justice League of America (which would probably go among the best of the best if the art was a bit more consistent or the lineup more to my personal tastes), Brian Bendis and Nick Derington’s Batman work in the Walmart 100-Page Giants, Donny Cates’ Thanos and Doctor Strange work (the latter might not have quite made it, but that last issue with Irving and Zdarsky was gangbusters), Steve Orlando’s brief Wonder Woman run with Laura Braga, ACO, and Raul Allen, Tim Seeley’s Green Lanterns, Nnedi Okorafor and Leonardo Romero’s Shuri, Robert Vendetti and Bryan Hitch’s Hawkman, Saladin Ahmed, Javier Rodriguez, Rod Reis, Dario Brizuela, and Joe Quinones’s Exiles, Captain America by both the Mark Waid/Chris Samnee team and the current Ta-Nehisi Coates/Lenil Francis Yu lineup, Dan Slott and Valerio Schiti’s Tony Stark: Iron Man when it’s committed solely to being a superhero comic and not Dan Slott trying to be Contemporary, Brian Bendis, Patrick Gleason, Yanick Paquette, and Ryan Sook’s Action Comics, and Kelly Thompson and Stefano Caselli’s West Coast Avengers. 

On the slightly different side of things, Steve Orlando and Giovanni Timpano showed how you do an intercompany crossover right with The Shadow/Batman, Max Bemis’s Moon Knight while not living up to all it could have been - and likely to age poorly - had moments of truly bizarre grace, Saga was Saga even if I’ve lost the plot, Ahmed and Christian Ward’s Black Bolt concluded as well as we all might have hoped, Warren Ellis and Jon Davis-Hunt’s The Wild Storm continued to build up steam in its own fascinating style, Doomsday Clock remains utterly captivating in spite of itself, and Tom Peyer and Jamal Igle’s The Wrong Earth is making the most of a deceptively tough premise. On the one-off end, Chip Zdarsky and Declan Shalvey’s Marvel Two-In-One Annual is an essentially perfect off-kilter Doom/Richards story, Action Comics #1000 had no chance of living up to all it needed to be but was largely a great set of Superman stories regardless, and while the remainder of the miniseries has thus far been fine, Tim Seeley and Carlos Villa’s first issue of Shatterstar was a strange, special delight.

My Favorite Comics of 2018

Rock Candy Mountain: Technically Jackson - the rail-rider who can beat Any One Man in a fistfight - reached the end of his journey for hobo heaven this year, and flat-out, every Kyle Starks comic is a perfect one. This is a book where the first issue has a dude beating ass with a beautiful savagery that leaves an awestruck onlooker declaring “He’s got punch diarrhea and their faces are the toilet bowl”, and by the end it built up to one of the most moving climaxes of the year. It’s a comic about fallen men finding redemption in friendship and in dreams, and also there’s a cage fighter who calls himself Hundred Cats because it would be really hard to fight a hundred cats.

Dark Knights: Metal: This is the final, perfected form of traditional Event Comic Bullshit. Everything good about Snyder, Capullo, Glapion, and Plascencia’s Batman post-Court Of Owls is retooled and reenergized to fit the scale of a Crisis event, everything that I would have considered to be a weakness regarding their partnership either burned away or placed in a context where it becomes a strength. This is the Morrison approach to the DCU rightfully ascendant and presented in a form even more fit for mass consumption, and manages to live up to being the first classic-style, large-scale DC event comic in almost a decade - Marvel may blow its own load every six months until it’s simply got nothing to offer anymore, but DC waited until they really and truly had something, and that something was bloodsoaked magic.

Peter Parker: The Spectacular Spider-Man (by Chip Zdarsky and assorted artists): I actually wavered a bit on whether this belonged in the best of the best as a whole; most of the issues this year were definitely very good (regarding Zdarsky’s run specifically, I haven’t checked out the Spider-Geddon tie-in stuff), but more on the honorary mention end of the scale. Ultimately however, the Amazing Fantasy arc and #310 are Spider-Man comics I’m going to be coming back to for years to come - the latter is going to end up in every ‘Best Spider-Man Stories Ever’ softcover from now until the end of time - and they tipped the scales.

Batman: Very much in the same boat as Spidey above; a lot of this year didn’t do it for me in the same way as this run has in the past, but The Best Man is the best thing anyone’s done with Joker since Morrison, the ‘wedding issue’ itself worked really well for me, Cold Days made a premise that’s often stymied creators work as well as people have always wanted it to, and the Dick team-up issue was a perfect little summation of a relationship, nevermind how much this year succeeded in getting me hyped up for things to come.

The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl: This is one of those comics where it’s so consistently good in such a specific, quiet way that people stop talking about it, but for real, this has never not in the top five or six things Marvel is publishing at any given time for as long as it’s been around. Erica Henderson leaving right before hitting the Kraven story that had been building literally since its first issue 3 years earlier could have been disastrous, but North and new artist Derek Charm manage to hit their own rhythm and continue delivering one of the funniest, cleverest, most sincere superbooks on the stands every month.

Mister Miracle: Yeah, it really was that good.

The Immortal Hulk: So is this, and if I have to name a single best comic of the year, this has probably gotta be it. Al Ewing’s been Marvel’s best creator for a long, long time, and putting him and Joe Bennett (who holy moley, I don’t think anyone would have guessed had this in him) on a tentpole character Ewing’s got genuine reverence for worked out even better than a fanboy like me might have expected. It’s sublime horror, it’s perfect Marvel comics continuity bullshit, and if the superhero is at heart a morality fable, this is very much a soul-searing apex of the genre as it speaks of how we can all go wrong.

Eternity Girl: …or maybe this is the best? It’s probably gotta be this, Hulk, or Miracle. Mister Miracle’s where the comparison really becomes clear, as they’re both books way out on the fringes of the DCU dealing with a character grappling with depression amidst the mundanity of their cyclical existence. However, as perfectly constructed and rawly human as Mister Miracle is, this hits a lot more of my own buttons and expresses its own brand of more surreal emotional authenticity, and rather than the expected and beautiful next step of a pair of already-acclaimed creators with an established partnership, this was a shock coming out party for Visaggio and Liew, who do things stylistically just as odd to see in a DC Comic as anything King and Gerads came up with. It seemed to sail under the radar for readers but also seems to be racking up awards, and I hope this’ll attain the reputation it deserves in years to come.

Ice Cream Man: Likely the respectable fourth place to the three above, while I can’t quite sing its praises in quite the same way when it’s playing so hard-to-get that I can’t quite put a pin in what it’s ultimately about, oh my GOD this is as good as gut-punch horror gets. Not simply grody shock-value stuff, but pit-of-your-stomach-everything-in-the-world-hates-you-and-you-were-wrong-to-ever-believe-in-love shit that’ll rattle your bones and fuck you up good. Not usually a horror guy myself, but this is an essentially perfect comic.

The Man Of Steel: Screw all y’all, this kicked ass and after how hard the Rebirth books blew it - Jon and the new status quo were both excellent, Tomasi had good bits here and there alongside some quality fill-in teams, but those books were still aaaaaaaaaaassssss - this is exactly the fresh start Superman’s needed for years. Granted the Fabok interstitials had some wonky pacing, but this was on-point and insightful for Superman as a character, exciting as hell, and has thus far led to nothing but more good comics as far as I’m concerned.

Milk Wars: Did the various tie-ins live up to the bookends? Nah, though the Shade/Wonder Woman story was pretty good. But those bookends? Friends, those books were AAA+ sup-per-he-ro-bull-SHIT, and while I was initially let down because it seemed as though it would have Superman in a major role and then didn’t, this is even more of an apotheosis of the Morrison approach to the genre than Metal. ACO is ACO, Eaglesham slaughtered it, and Orlando and Way should be as joined at the hip as cowriters as Abbnett and Lanning used to be. This is a gold standard for strange, edgy, colorful, wondrous, fucked-up superhero comics, and there should be a million more like it every day.

Justice League (by Christopher Priest and assorted artists, primarily Pete Woods): On the exact opposite end of the scale, while I don’t think I can say I enjoyed this book as much as the current Snyder-helmed gonzo cosmic adventures, I absolutely feel this was the better of the two. More importantly, this run is the successful version of what just about every other Justice League comic of the past 15 years has been trying and failing to be as the post-Authority, post-Ultimates, post-Civil War take on the concept. It’s as smart and atmospheric and bold as a book like Justice League ever CAN be, building its exploration of the conceptual stress points of the team around one and two-part adventures and clever character dynamics, illustrating an interesting new take on how to handle the main team book with the power players: taking their ability to handle physical threats as a relative given, a structural conceit acting as a delivery mechanism for the politics and people in play. It hardly breaks new ground in terms of redefining the superhero concept, but it’s as far as they’ve gone with the marquis characters without ending in disaster, and it’s an approach I’d love to see more often applied to this scale.

Superman: Walmart 100 Page Giant (by Tom King and Andy Kubert): Of all the places for King to do a regular Superman comic, huh? Still, we’d already seen what he’d done in that Batman two-parter and Action #1000, so I’m more than willing to take what we can get (even if most are going to have to wait for this to come out in trade). There have been four installments so far: the first is the sort of stage-setting that’s common to this type of long-form arc but with a distinctly different atmosphere than how this is typically done with the character, evoking a sort of Miller-tinged Golden Age flavor connecting Superman back down to Earth before throwing him into the stars. The third is a great Fuck Yeah Superman Doin’ Superman Shit throwdown that gives Kubert a chance to shine. The fourth and most recent is haunting, inspired, moving, and tight as a drum. And the second begins as the worst-case scenario of Tom King doing a Superman comic, and ends as likely my favorite Superman story of the last 5 years. If it continues in its current direction, Superman: Up In The Sky is almost certainly going to be a perennial people are going to rank among the best Superman stories of all time for decades to come, and everything I’d want out of this team tackling my favorite character.

Detective Comics (by James Tynion IV and assorted artists): I’m honestly surprised at myself for putting this here, but I just have to hand it to this run - which had to go quite a ways to win me over, between its opening gambit with Batwoman’s status quo and centering the whole thing around my least-favorite Robin (even if it won me over to him over time) - as basically being the platonic form of Dang Good Superhero Comics. Not boundary-pushing, not the sort of thing you’ll remember in 20 years, but just really fun, exciting, good-looking, slick, character-driven adventures building on themselves into the logical culmination of 21st century popular Batman stories. This is Batman 101, but in a good way, and I honestly think that on reflection it’s gonna hold together better as a Batman run than its immediate predecessor in Snyder/Capullo.

You Are Deadpool: This is the smartest, funniest, most inventive big two comic of the year and even if you’re so tired of Deadpool that your skull bones are threatening to suddenly contract and spear your brain in an attempt at saving your weary soul from the prospect of seeing any more of him, you should get this.

Superman (by Brian Bendis and Ivan Reis): I noted Action Comics among the honorable mentions, as while it’s a dang good comic that I enjoy a great deal - and Ryan Sook may well have established himself as my ideal modern Superman artist - it’s very much the best possible version of *exactly* what you’d expect from Brian Bendis doing Superman. This, on the other hand, feels like Bendis stretching himself to do something truly different in a way he hasn’t in years, and the results are stunning. I won’t pretend Rogol Zaar has amounted to much of anything as of yet, but Bendis has acclimated to the realm of Cosmic Superman Punch-Ups in a way no one could have reasonably seen coming; he’s managed to sidestep his usual issues by anchoring each issue in a crazy setpiece and a single perfect Superman character moment, and Reis is doing work here than can unquestionably stand alongside his Sinestro Corps War heyday. Whether it’s #1 having Superman fight an astro-goilla in the middle of a questioning on his responsibilities to humanity, #4 going full Shonen in the best possible way with probably my favorite fight scene of the year, or #6′s storybook mythmaking building to the best, cruelest needle in the balloon possible, or the consistent delightful fucking with Adam Strange, every issue here has something I didn’t know I badly wanted to see, and damn if that isn’t exactly what I want in my Superman stuff.

Assorted one-offs: Along with the major arcs and runs, we’ve got stuff like the Thanos Annual and DC Nuclear Winter Special, as good as anthologies of this kind get. T-shirt Superman got one last ride under Morrison in the Sideways Annual, fighting his way out from under the wreckage of a weird DiDio book to get exactly the sendoff he deserved. The Injustice 2 Annual, of all things, was a perfect piece of bittersweet character work. Invincible #144 satisfyingly closed out The Best Superhero Comic In The Universe by essentially also doing Invincible #145-500 or so, putting this often tumultuous title to bed with the dignity it had earned. And finally, Slott and Marcos Martin’s The Amazing Spider-Man #801 was a perfect minor mediation not even on the title character so much as the basic moral appeal of the genre as a whole.

#Comics #DC Comics #Marvel #Image #Opinion

[do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them]

On the Other Side / Ch2: Light

Last / Masterpost / Next

Summary: For the past thirteen years, a secretive organization has been raising two groups of superpowered children. Half of them, since their very first memories, have been told they’ll grow up to be brave and strong superheroes; the rest were taught a much harsher view of the world, and groomed to become villains. Neither group knows of the other’s existence. But when a certain trio of heroes-to-be meets two future villains who really just want to be left alone, they all realize how much they haven’t been told.

Warnings: non-graphic violence, bullying, child abuse, sympathetic/good Deceit (Devon) is a main character

A/N: currently still on schedule despite classes starting, will be able to put ch3 up next week!

Read on AO3

Light.

The boys woke to a painfully bright light and the feeling of hitting the floor from their previous sitting-up position.  Ow.  They got up as fast as they could manage, blinking quickly and swaying from both residual sleep and their general lack of strength at the moment, struggling not to reach out to each other for support.  What they saw when they regained their vision a few seconds later was… not exactly what they expected.

The three standing in front of them weren’t adults, but rather not much older than Devon- although they were older, Virgil noticed, his internal danger-meter ticking up another notch- and they looked almost as surprised as Virgil and Devon felt.  A quick glance around told Virgil they weren’t anywhere he recognized, and- what the fuck??- rather than an open door, they seemed to have fallen out of the Room through a hole in the wall.  He wasn’t sure what any of this meant, but somehow he doubted it was good.

Devon, meanwhile, kept his attention on the trio in front of him.  Three boys- one bobbing up and down in midair with his legs crossed, one with a serious look of concentration currently focused on returning the wall to its normal state, and one in a weird outfit who seemed to be in charge, and also seemed to be glowing a little.  So they all had their powers handled.  Great.  They were so going to die.

They all stared at each other for a few seconds, and then several things happened at once.

The boy who’d been fixing the wall finished and turned around at the same moment as the maybe-leader took a step towards them, eyes narrowed suspiciously at them and hands glowing brighter than before, looking like he was about to say something.  Devon started to speak, too, in hopes of defusing the situation before it could get any worse.  The floaty one just looked concerned, and Virgil, well… Virgil sort of panicked.  Before the one who’d stepped up could do anything, Virgil darted forward and kicked him in the shins as hard as he could so that he collapsed, then grabbed Devon’s wrist and bolted.  The vague sounds of cursing behind them told him he’d better be fast.

A few minutes ago…

Patton led his friends down a hallway, floating on air as usual- well, as usual if he was happy, which was most of the time.  They were on a super important mission to help someone, because Patton could tell somebody around here needed some serious cheering up, and Roman and Logan were with him all the way!

“Patton, are you certain your abilities aren’t just acting up because a movie made you sad again?”

Well… most of the way.

“For once I have to agree with you,” Logan chimed in unhelpfully.  “There’s nothing over here; we aren’t even supposed to be over here, especially this late at night, so I don’t see how--”

“There!”

Patton pointed triumphantly to a blank wall at the end of the hallway.

“...Patton, that is a wall.”

“On the other side of the wall, silly,” Patton huffed.  “I’m serious right now, there’s someone there and they’re really upset!”

“I am fairly certain that the only thing on the other side of this wall is some grass.  And even if there’s someone outside, how do you propose that we get there?  It’s much too late to go out, and there’s a fence anyway, we couldn’t get to this side of the building from there.”  Logan seemed to think he’d left no further room for discussion until Roman turned and laid his hands on his shoulders with a serious expression.

“Did you actually forget that we have superpowers, you hopeless nerd?”

Logan’s eyes widened and he backed away, holding his hands up.  “Oh no.  No no no, you are not dragging me into this- do you even realize how difficult--”

“Logan, pleeease?”

No one was immune to Patton’s oft-overlooked second superpower, his puppy-eyes face.

“Fine,” Logan groaned.  “But if we get in trouble it’s your fault.”

He faced the wall and focused, thinking of the bonds that held its microscopic components in place and then thinking, hey, what if those were arranged a little differently?  In the blink of an eye, a chunk of the wall was now a pile of rubble a little bit off to the side.

To Logan’s surprise, the hole he’d made didn’t lead outside like it should have, but into a small empty closet.  A draft of cold air spilled out immediately- along with two small boys, who must have been asleep, but startled awake once the wall they’d been leaning against disappeared and they fell into the hallway.  Logan blinked in surprise, hearing Patton’s soft gasp of “Oh!” and Roman’s muttered “What the…?!”  He couldn’t focus on that problem yet, though, because he still needed to return all the bits of the wall before he got in trouble for taking it apart, and putting things back the way he found them was a lot less simple than turning them into deconstructed messes.  He didn’t want it to end up all lumpy because he let himself get distracted.

The boys stood up quickly, if a little dazed, and the trio got a better look at them while they seemed to be struggling to get their bearings.  They were both fairly small, dressed in mostly black and littered with bruises.  The taller one had one weird eye and scales on the left side of his face, probably something to do with his powers, and appeared to share Roman’s fondness for wearing silly costumes at all times for no good reason.  The other was tiny, only coming up to his friend’s shoulder, though it might have been exaggerated by the way he scrunched in on himself.  He was openly glaring at all three of them, with the hood of his oversized jacket pulled down almost far enough to hide his eyes and his hands balled into fists inside the too-long sleeves that covered them.

Roman, sizing them up, was immediately a bit suspicious.  He knew all about villains- they were evil, they hurt innocent people for no reason, and he, as a superhero, was going to fight them when he grew up- and these two fit the typical description perfectly.  He stepped towards them to ask who they were, readying his light manipulation powers in case they tried to hurt his friends.  Before he could say anything, the tiny kid lashed out without warning or clear cause, kicked Roman’s legs out from under him and ran away, dragging his friend along with him while Roman bit out a string of words he wasn’t supposed to know.

“Roman, are you okay?!”  Patton, feet on the ground for once, offered a hand to help him up.

“I knew it, I knew they were going to try something,” Roman exclaimed, angry but still quiet to avoid getting caught in an off-limits area.  He didn’t want another lecture on why rules were for his own safety and he should really consider following them sometimes; he got enough of those from Logan.

Patton caught his arm before he could do anything.  “Ro, I think- I think they were just scared, I think they didn’t know what was going on and we startled them and- oh, we have to go after them and fix this, I only made it worse!”

Logan nodded.  He was shifting back and forth, increasingly uncomfortable with the whole situation.  “And we need to get them back where we found them before--”

“No!”

Logan and Roman both stared at Patton, who had his jaw set in a determined pout and a little wisp of smoke coming from his bangs.

“We can’t, you don’t understand- if you had felt it, you guys- they were so upset I could feel it from our room and, and they were so scared of us, and- who goes to sleep in a closet, anyway, I don’t think they wanted to be there at all and we are not gonna make them go back!”

Roman was still trying to process things, so Logan spoke up again, carefully.  “What… do you suggest we do with them, then?”

“Well, we can… they can stay with us!  …Just until tomorrow, and then we can figure out what else to do?  Please?”

Logan gave up.  “I guess I don’t have any better ideas…”

They both looked at Roman, who was still conflicted.

“…Fine, but I’ll be watching them and they better not hurt you guys.”

“Yay!  Thanks, guys!”  Patton squeezed them both in a hug.  “Now- let’s go find them, I think they went this way!”

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #virgil sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #sympathetic deceit #my post #my writing #on the other side

[roseonhissleeve]

Have A Little Faith: Chapter Ten

“Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.” 

- J.K. Rowling

I woke up hours later with a gasp.

I’d slept like a rock—my mind had shut down and allowed me to get the rest that I needed, but as soon as I woke up my entire body was sore and I could tell that I had been tensed the entire time I slept. I could still FEEL the tension in my arms and thighs, and it was so bad that it hurt. I rolled over to glance at my phone screen and check the time.

11:34 PM.

I also noticed that I’d received a text from Harry.

I hope you’re doing okay. Thinking of you. I’m still here if you need me.

My heart sank as I read the message. I felt bad that he was completely in the dark, but this was my burden to bear.

I decided that I was going to go out for a run to loosen up my body, and as soon as I did I began moving on autopilot. I had never been a huge runner, but I needed something to do other than sit in bed and think about all my fucked up experiences, and running was the most mindless thing I could do. I was disassociating. I didn’t even notice when I changed into a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt, nor when I slipped on my running shoes and walked out of the door.

The night air was cool and there was a slight breeze that touched my cheek, the refreshing chill causing me to relax a bit for the first time in hours.

I ran aimlessly and without direction, uncaring of the fact that I was most likely going to get lost and not have a single clue as to how to get home. The pain in my body paired with adrenaline was exactly the distraction I’d been looking for all day, and if I had to get lost as a coping mechanism, I’d get lost.

I spent about twenty minutes of alternating between running and a slow jog before stopping to look up at the landscape in front of me.

Mount Vesuvius.

I was about to continue running, until something in my body told me to stay.

What’s something you want to do that you’ve never done?

I wanted to be content. I wanted to feel powerful. I wanted to kick Elijah’s ass.

I wanted to climb this fucking mountain.

I dug through my pockets and pulled out my phone, scrolling quickly through my contacts before pressing the “call” button.

“Rosie?” I heard Harry’s voice on the line, hopeful and worried all at once.

“I’m climbing a volcano tonight. Are you coming?”

***

Harry was there in half an hour. I watched as he got out of the car that he’d rented earlier that week, his face confused and worried as he lurched towards me.

“Are you okay, love?” He asked. I nodded my head and adjusted my ponytail as I flashed him a small smile, which was a lot easier to do currently than it was hours before. The endorphins from my run were kicking in.

“Never better. I’m sorry…” I started saying, but I really didn’t know how to finish. I still was a mess and I knew it. I then realized that I should probably be worried about Harry and what he’d think of me—we’d recently met and I was already falling apart in front of his eyes. This definitely wasn’t what he signed up for when he met me. “Listen, if you don’t wanna do this…”

“Are you kidding?” He interrupted, his features breaking out into a lopsided grin as he glanced up the mountain we were about to climb. “I wouldn’t miss it, Ro. I bet I can beat you to the top, even.”

I laughed shakily, and even though it wasn’t quite like my laughter normally, it was something.

Even riddled with worry, I was grateful to have Harry there.

We set out towards the top of the mountain side by side, and he didn’t try to force me to talk even though I could only assume he had tons of questions. The nighttime breeze sent chills up and down my sweaty limbs, and the smell or dirt filled the air as we made our way up the mountain. Harry walked right beside me even though he could probably go at a much faster pace, and every so often (every thirty seconds, really) he would look over to check on me and make sure I was okay.

The beginning wasn’t too bad. The dirt pathway up the mountain made it difficult sometimes to get a good step, but the cool breeze that now begun to tickle my cheek was refreshing, and there was something reassuring to how Harry put so much thought into making sure I was okay. I put one foot in front of the other, slowly travelling up the steep pathway, and I began to breathe deeply.

That’s where the pain kicked in.

I felt it in my shins first, a sharp twang in the back of my leg that struck every time I took a step, like the chord of a guitar being plucked and broken. It then spread like fire to my

thighs and the pit of my chest, making it harder to breathe steady. I began to struggle, and Harry could tell.

“You okay, love? Do you wanna take a break?” he asked, and I shook my head in response.

“I’m okay. It’ll hurt more if I stop,” I reasoned, growing slightly out of breath but still managing to offer him a slight smile. If he was feeling any sort of pain he wasn’t showing it at all.

“Alright, let me know if you need to. Don’t push yourself too hard, Ro,” he requested, and I simply replied with another nod as I took another step.

For the next five minutes I kept going, my pace steady but slow, and the pain grew exponentially. Even though it was only five minutes it felt like half an hour. The pain crept up my thighs, my entire legs sore with every inch I moved, and I had to bite my lower lip in order to keep from whimpering from the pain as I continued to scale up the winding path. I began to feel nauseous, and I knew it was quite possible that I could throw up at any second. I was beginning to regret asking Harry to come with me.

“How are you doing?” I asked almost breathlessly, glancing over at Harry. He was keeping up fine, but I could tell that his movements were slower and there were beads of sweat forming on his forehead and shoulders. Still, he looked at me and gave me a grin.

“Working through the pain,” he reassured, reaching to press the back of his hand to my clammy cheek for a moment before allowing it to drop. “Don’t you worry about me, beautiful.”

“Worry? I’ve gotta make sure you’re keeping up,” I teased halfheartedly, and he exhaled a soft snicker due to my words. We both knew that he could probably get there in twice the speed if it wasn’t for me, but he was polite enough not to say it.

We walked for what seemed like forever (but probably was only another five minutes).

And then the damn endorphins kicked in.

It was about fucking time.

It felt like flying. That’s the closest thing that I can compare it to; I took one step after the other, and with every step I felt myself getting stronger. I looked over the railings and out to the landscape that grew smaller and smaller; the twinkling houselights and the ocean became a portrait of all the pain that I’d experienced…a collage of all the tears I’d shed.

Harry must’ve noticed that I was picking up my pace because he began to speed up as well, and I could hear his breathing become more labored. We kept going for I don’t know how long – it could have been hours for all I knew, but all I was thinking about was that I

needed to get to the top. With every step that’s all I could think about, and eventually I felt nothing in my body—it was all in my mind, and I felt my heart pounding louder than it ever had before. This mountain killed thousands of people just by doing what it was designed to do. I was going to make it to the fucking top.

And then I turned the corner, and I saw it.

I saw the crater.

We’d made it.

***

I stood still for a long time.

“Ro? Rosie, are you okay?” His voice sounded faint, as if he was a world away, even though he was standing right behind me. Tears prickled in my eyes as I stared at the large crater in front of me—I’d climbed all that way and all of my problems were still very much alive. I didn’t know what I was expecting at the end of this workout, but it wasn’t this emptiness.

“I’m fine…” I replied, even though I knew that I was anything but and I knew that Harry would be able to tell. He circled around to stand right in front of me, and I could sense he was about to prod some more. “Harry…I’m fine, look I’m really s—”

I was interrupted by his arms wrapping around my frame, pulling me flush against his chest.

I stayed frozen for a moment, taking in the feeling of Harry’s embrace. I could feel the muscles in his arm press around my torso firmly, as well as the feeling of the sculpted curves of his chest against my front. Harry wasn’t usually so forward about his physical advances, because he knew I needed him not to be. But somehow in that moment this is just what I needed.

I eventually allowed myself to melt into his touch, slipping my own arms around his torso and hiding my face against his shoulder. It didn’t solve everything, and I could still feel the stress in my muscles, but the feeling of being tucked inside of Harry’s hug made me feel a little bit safer and maybe that’s really what I was looking for.

Harry allowed me to cry softly into his shoulder, staining his white t-shirt with my tears. He didn’t say a single word, he simply rubbed my back every once in a while and occasionally hummed a soft song in my ear. He let me be. He let me do whatever I needed to do to compose myself.

So there we stood, in the cool Italian night on the top of a volcano that had been dormant for centuries.

We stood as I fell apart, and somehow the physical bind that he kept me in allowed me to put my own pieces together again.

And as I erupted, maybe a gentler piece of me would be able to emerge from the ashes.

***

“What’s something you’re scared of?”

We’d been sitting by the railing at the edge of the mountain for half an hour, talking about nothing and everything all at once. He hadn’t mentioned my breakdown yet, which I appreciated because I didn’t think that I could handle being triggered like that again just yet. I sat with my head resting against his shoulder and he lay his hand on my knee, occasionally brushing the skin with the pad of his thumb.

“I’m scared of losing myself,” he answered quickly, which meant that he’d obviously thought about it before. I tilted my head up a little bit to look at his features, curious as to what he meant.

“It’s hard sometimes, when you’re surrounded by millions of people who claim to know who you are and what you want. When you’ve got girls throwing themselves at you left and right, or when there are grown adults tossing money at you trying to get you to work with them over the other. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, and I know it…it all just makes me feel like I’ve got a price tag on me sometimes…also, clowns. Clowns give me the creeps.”

I chortled softly when he finished speaking, thinking about his words for a long moment. I constantly forgot that he was Harry Styles, that everyone knew him, so when he spoke of things like this it brought perspective to my mind that I’d never considered before. It was one of the things I liked most about him.

“What about you, Rosie?” He asked. He sat up a little straighter which caused me to lift my head up off of his shoulder altogether, and I looked straight at him as I anticipated his question. “What’re you scared of?”

I pursed my lips lightly as I thought about his words, and I knew what he was getting at and what he wanted to know. What I didn’t know was if I was ready to tell him.

“I’m scared of my past,” I offered, looking out into the valley that was illuminated by the houses down below the mountaintop. “I’m scared that it’ll come back.”

“Are you running from something, love?” He wondered, looking at my features. I exhaled a soft sigh and looked back out at the landscape below us, wishing that I could freeze this moment and live in it, never having to move forward and face it all.

“I think that might be what brought me here,” I answered, hugging my knees up to my chest and tucking my chin in between them. I waited for a long moment for Harry to say something, but instead I felt his hand on my back. He ran his palm along the length of my muscles softly which caused me to shut my eyes, and he continued by tickling my skin with the pads of his fingers lightly, tracing patterns and drawings onto me as if I was a blank canvas. My eyes remained shut and I exhaled a soft sigh.

“Maybe you’re here because it’s exactly where you’re supposed to be,” he whispered.

I thought about that for a minute, and for some reason the possibility of it brought a smile to my lips. I settled back against Harry’s shoulder and he pressed a kiss against the top of my head, and we stayed there for a long time, neither one of us willing to climb down just yet.

***

Harry walked me back to my hotel. I tried to tell him that I would be fine, but he insisted on seeing me safely to my door. In all the days that we’d been travelling together he never asked to come in past my front door, even though most guys would. But I knew since the very first day that Harry Styles was not like most men.

He walked with me up to my room on the second floor and when we reached my door we stopped. I turned to look at him, nibbling on my lower lip nervously before speaking.

“I’m really sorry about today…”

“Hey, you’ve nothin’ to be—”

“No, listen, I want to say this,” I interrupted, looking into his eyes firmly. I think that I caught him a bit by surprise, but he simply nodded his head and waited for me to begin speaking again. I swallowed the lump in my throat and tucked my hands into my pockets before continuing.

“This…you have been amazing. You really have. You’re kind, and hilarious, and you make me laugh and smile and you’re just…God, you say these THINGS sometimes that take words out of my mouth and just make me wonder how someone like you can exist…What I’m trying to say is, you’re amazing, and you need to be with someone else who’s amazing, someone who isn’t running away.”

I immediately felt like an idiot for even speaking. Harry and I weren’t even DATING, I didn’t know what the hell we were doing but I knew that he couldn’t want anything to do with me after the shit I pulled today.

“I think it’d just be easier to stop now. It’s been amazing but now we can go our separate ways and you can find what you’re searching for and I can…I can try to get myself together,” I choked out, clenching my hands into fists. I didn’t realize how hard this would be.

“Ro…” He began, his brows furrowed tightly and his hands at his sides. There was a long pause and for a minute I thought he wasn’t going to say anything, but right when I was about to open my mouth to speak again his voice began to fill the air.

“You talk as if you’re broken. As if you were something in pieces on the ground that needs to be put back together. But the woman I’ve spent this week with…she’s whole, and amazing, and loving and she’s everything but broken,” he mused, taking a step towards me. My lower lip trembled slightly as I listened to him speak, and my heart was doing something it’d never done before but I had no intention of stopping it.

“If you don’t want to spend time with me anymore, if you really just don’t wanna see me, I’ll leave,” he stated, and there was a hardness in his gaze as he spoke. “But if you’re trying to push me away again because you’re scared of what’s gonna happen, I…Rosie, I’m not going anywhere.”

He said it simply, as if it was as easy as breathing, as if it was just a logical step for him to take. And it amazed me that after slamming the door on him earlier that day, after making him climb up a mountain, after falling apart in his arms when he definitely wasn’t asking for it, he still wanted to be around me.

It amazed me that someone so whole and so sure of who they were wanted to be beside me even after seeing how much of a mess I could be.

“Ro…” He said quietly, and he took another step towards me so that his face was about five inches away from mine. He lifted his hand to cup my cheek in his large palm, and I felt his lips press against my forehead for several seconds. It wasn’t until after he’d pulled away that I heard his voice again. “What’dya say?”

I looked straight ahead at the crease of his neck, my mind racing with endless thoughts and doubts, and it didn’t help that I was surrounded by Harry. Harry’s smell, his voice, his touch, his skin. I slid my hands out of my pockets to take his hands in mine and wind my fingers through his tightly, as if he could ground me. Except it only made me feel fuzzier, because Harry held my hands as if I were a butterfly, because he stroked my skin with his thumbs with such care that the delicacy of it alone could break me.

I released his hands only to run my fingertips up the length of his arm, occasionally stopping as I really focused in on a tattoo, paying special attention to the rose. It made me smile and I traced it with my index finger, declaring it my favorite for obvious reasons, and I knew he was thinking the same because I could sense him chuckling inaudibly as he watched me perform my actions. There were goosebumps on his skin where my fingers had touched, and it made my lips twitch with a hint of a smile.

Eventually I lifted my gaze to look at his features which were still hovering dangerously close to mine, and my hands made their way up his biceps and across the broadness of his shoulders to rest on either side of his face.

My gaze was attached to his lips—they were pink and perfect. The second he realized what I was looking at I heard his breathing become slightly more labored as his heartrate picked up, and I was glad that it wasn’t just me…I had to hold back a gasp when the tip of his tongue slid out from between his lips as he glided it across his lower brim.

I retaliated by lifting my own finger and running the pad of my thumb across his lip where his tongue had moistened it already, and I felt him suck in a breath of air as I did so. He stood perfectly still, his hands on my hips as he allowed me to become acquainted with bits of him. I used my own tongue to lick my lips softly in a subconscious effort to moisten them, before I croaked out.

“H-Harry…”

“Mm?” He responded, unable to form proper words.

“Can…Can I kiss you?” The question spilled from my lips clumsily and not at all seductively, and I was surprised that I was able to get them out to begin with.

There was a pause before he lifted his head in a slow nod, and it wasn’t until then that I looked up into his eyes and realized that he had been watching my lips as well. I exhaled inaudibly, standing up on my toes a little bit in order to close the distance between mine and Harry’s lips. I counted a total of two seconds before I brushed my lips against his softly.

Oh...

My lips trembled against his for a second, only stopping when I felt his hands squeeze my hips gently. After that I melted against him, the crease of his lower lip pressed in between mine. It was soft, and it was sweet, and his lips reminded me of a strawberry taste and it caused the butterflies in my stomach to flutter and my heartbeat to speed up to a degree I’d never before experienced.

So that’s how it’s supposed to feel…

It lasted about ten seconds before he pulled away, and the second he did I felt my heart drop.

I was about to open my eyes, but I was caught off guard by the feeling of his lips once again—this time they collided against mine, pressing firmly against my mouth and it ignited something inside of me that I had no recollection of feeling ever before.

Not only that, but his hands came to life, his arms slipping around my waist and picking me up off of the ground so that I didn’t have to stand on my toes anymore, bringing me up so that I was level with his features. My arms slid around his neck so that I could support myself against him. I swear, I could probably kiss Harry forever and never grow tired of it. His lips danced against mine with tenderness and care and desire and it made my head swim with thoughts of Harry and only Harry.

Eventually he pulled away, and I could sense the reluctance in the action. He set me down on the ground and I unconsciously whined a little bit, which caused a raspy laugh to escape from his throat, something I’d never heard before. He reassured me by pressing several soft pecks against my lips, as if he couldn’t get enough of them either.

When he finally pulled away properly he cupped my features in his hands, his piercing green eyes watching every inch of my blissed-out expression. There was a content smile on my lips and I couldn’t help but giggle softly at his moistened lips as well as the slight red tint in his cheeks.

It made me want to kiss him all over again, but I knew that if we started we might not ever stop.

“I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow?” I croaked out softly, and the smile that he gifted me was enough to take my breath away if he hadn’t already.

He leaned in to press another soft kiss against my forehead this time, reluctantly releasing me from his hold as he prepared himself to leave for the night.

“I’ll be here, love.”

#have a little faith #half #chapter ten #ashes #harry styles #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles story #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles x ofc #harry styles oneshot #harry styles reading

[claraxbarton]

Lark

For Cocktail Fridays!

It’s a 2x5, a follow-up to the 1x2x5 Nightsong that I wrote a while back.

Under the cut!

Prompt: “How ‘bout a drink to celebrate?”

“It’s 8am.”

A/N: Follow-up of sorts to Nightsong

A/N2: Thanks always to Ro for editing my things and supporting me in all the ways

Pairings: 1x2x5, 2x5

Warnings: language, sexy times, day drinking

Lark

The scenic designer was an asshole.

A brilliant asshole, but an asshole all the same.

After a miserably-long technical rehearsal on Sunday night, which Wufei finally, firmly ended at midnight with the release of actors because they were union and there were rules, the production team had met to discuss the plan for the rest of the week.

The show, which went into first previews on Thursday night, was the most complicated, expensive clusterfuck Wufei had ever been part of.

In some ways, he deeply regretted taking the job. It was his first Off-Broadway show - and while that was a big step up from the Off-Off Broadway shows he had stage managed during graduate school - he actually started to wonder, three rehearsals in, if he had bitten off more than he could chew with this project. It was his biggest show, and his first show after completing his MFA program.

Of course, it had been Duo who recommended him for the gig. Duo, who was the lighting designer for the show, whose faith in Wufei’s competence was at once encouraging and unnerving.

And complicated.

Wufei had to wonder how much of Duo’s confidence had to do with actually trusting in Wufei’s ability to do the project, and how much was tied into his relationship with Wufei.  

They had been together for nearly six months, Wufei tentatively easing into the complex relationship Duo and Heero had with each other, and while he didn’t regret even a moment of his time with the two men, Wufei did wonder if Duo was really being objective about things.

Especially after the meeting on Sunday night.

The scenic designer insisted on having almost the entire day on Monday to re-paint and re-dress key elements of the set.

And no, he couldn’t share the stage with electrics.

Electrics, meaning Duo.

Duo, who had nearly twenty focus notes and a slew of lighting cues to rewrite because the scenery…

The scenery was a monster.

It was gorgeous, there was no denying that, but it wasn’t at all like the initial plans. Over the five-week rehearsal process, it had changed, turning into a bewildering and frightening forest of twisted steel and a sheer canopy of leaves.

It was a far cry from the realistic trees that had been sketched out months ago and passed off to Duo.

And Duo, who had tried his best to guess what things would look like after the scenic designer refused to build a new model or even offer up detailed, scaled drawings of the new design, hadn’t guessed quite right.

During the Sunday night meeting, the rest of the team sat and watched Duo and the scenic designer argue over who should get stage time when, and after a pointed look from the director, Wufei had sighed and stepped in.

And screwed over his boyfriend. Or whatever Duo was. It felt like more than that.

Of course, after the look of betrayal Duo gave him when Wufei declared that the scenic designer would have the stage from 10am until 5pm, the call time for the evening rehearsal, Wufei had to wonder if he would still be anything to the other man.

“Fine,” Duo had muttered, and scrubbed at his face. “I’ll come in at six and get to work.”

Duo’s assistant had sputtered in indignation. Six, after all, was only five hours away.

Duo had rolled his eyes and told the assistant to stay home and sleep. Had said he would do the work by himself.

And then he had packed up and left after the meeting, not waiting for Wufei, not trying to cajole Wufei into staying with him that night.

Wufei had tried to shove down his pain at that, and had instead commuted out to his own apartment on Long Island.

He set his alarm for noon and curled into his comforter and tried to sleep.

Thirty minutes later, however, he groaned and reset his alarm for five.

Duo had focus notes, which meant Duo was going to be on a ladder. Alone. With barely any sleep. If anything happened to him, Wufei was going to feel pissed and guilty about it.

It felt like only ten minutes later when the alarm went off, and Wufei almost fell out of bed as he lunged for his phone to end it.

Unfortunately, the commute into the city did not feel like ten minutes.

His train was running late, and it was 6:30 by the time Wufei arrived at the theatre.

And, of course, he walked in to see Duo balanced precariously on a ladder, cursing at a lighting instrument.

He waited until Duo was done before announcing his presence.

“Need a hand?”

Duo looked at him with a mixture of anger, relief and guilt.

“You should be sleeping,” Duo muttered, and started to move the ladder into a new position.

Wufei rolled his eyes, dropped his bag, and picked up the page of notes Duo had dropped on the front of the stage.

He scanned over them, looking for something that he could do without fucking it up.

“I’ll get you these new gel cuts,” he said.

Silence from Duo, and he looked up to see the other man scowling at him.

“What?”

Duo shrugged one shoulder, and Wufei had learned enough about him over the last few months to know that it was a defensive move. Something Duo did when he knew he was in the wrong.

“You should be sleeping,” Duo said again. “Your commute-”

“It’s fine. I’m used to it.” But it still stung.

Duo swallowed hard, and nodded.

“Thanks for the help.”

“I’m happy to help,” Wufei said sincerely, and Duo nodded again, looking even guiltier.

An hour later, the focus notes were done, and Duo was down at the lighting console to start reprogramming cues.

Wufei acted as a stage walker - moving around the scenery and showing Duo where actors stood in certain scenes so that he could perfect the cues.

He was fairly certain he fell asleep standing up, several times, and he had no idea how much time had passed when Duo let out a triumphant sound.

Wufei blinked into the darkness and saw Duo’s arms raised over his head.

“Fucking done,” Duo groaned. “For now. Until that asshole redesigns the show again.”

Wufei snorted in both amusement and commiseration.

“I need more coffee. You?”

Wufei shrugged, and jumped down from the stage to follow Duo out of the theatre and into the breakroom.

He leaned against the counter and watched while Duo poured himself a new cup of coffee and dumped in an entirely horrifying amount of sugar.

Duo opened the fridge to grab milk and paused.

“What?” Wufei asked.

Duo reached in and pulled out a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels. There was an index card taped to it that said ‘Drink Me.’

Duo arched an eyebrow at Wufei.

“It’s for a show in the other space. They need empty bottles, and the props person doesn’t drink, so she’s been leaving liquor in the fridge to be emptied,” Wufei explained.

It had been happening for weeks now, and more than once Wufei had had to shepard half-drunk actors out of the theatre after rehearsals.

“Well. How ‘bout we celebrate?”

Wufei arched an eyebrow at him, and then glanced at the clock on the wall.

“It’s 8am.”

Duo smirked.

“Exactly. And I’m done with notes - thanks to you. We should celebrate.”

Wufei gave him a look, but Duo was completely unperturbed.

With a sigh, Wufei reached past Duo and opened up the cabinet that contained an assortment of cups, plates and bowls.

He pulled out two cups and put them on the counter.

Duo grinned, and poured far too much of the amber liquid into the two cups. He put the nearly-empty bottle back in the fridge and raised one of the glasses.

Wufei grimaced and picked up the other.

He wasn’t a heavy drinker, and he didn’t even want to think about what the liquor was going to do to his empty stomach.

“Toast?” Duo asked.

“To early morning work calls?” Wufei hazarded.

Duo snorted, but gamely took a sip of his drink.

Wufei followed suit, and coughed at the burning sensation.

“To assholes who have boyfriends who are too good to them?” Duo held up his cup again.

Wufei looked at him, and saw that Duo looked apologetic, shoulders raised slightly and head ducked down.

Wufei raised his glass and drank.

“To assholes who are going to absolutely make it up to their boyfriends,” he said after Duo drank.

“Hmm.” Duo tossed back the rest of his drink, and Wufei did the same. “What did you have in mind?”

Neither of them had to be back until that evening, and while Wufei would probably come back earlier, just to see if the theatre was still standing and clean up his paperwork, he could think of all sorts of ways for Duo to apologize to him. All involving sleep and food.

Before he could suggest any of them, however, Duo smirked and sank to his knees in front of Wufei.

It was a sight that Wufei didn’t think he would ever get used to.

Duo, gorgeous and confident and so sexy that one smirk from him had Wufei’s pulse racing, kneeling at Wufei’s feet and looking up at him through his thick lashes, was beyond any fantasy Wufei had ever had.

Duo reached for Wufei’s hips, pulling him closer and smoothing his hands over the waistband of Wufei’s khakis.

“Duo?”

“Nothing like getting drunk and then fucking at 8am, is there?” Duo asked as he started to unzip Wufei’s pants.

“No,” Wufei breathed, thinking of all of the reasons why this was a Very Bad Idea. Reasons that evaporated as soon as Duo leaned forward and pressed his open mouth against the cotton of Wufei’s briefs, warm and wet against his stirring cock.

“Step one as my apology for being an ass?” Duo suggested as he tugged down the briefs and exposed Wufei to the cool air.

Wufei shivered, and then shuddered as Duo licked him. Duo took the soft flesh into his mouth, leisurely coaxing Wufei to full erection.

Once Wufei was hard, Duo pulled back and smirked up at him.

“It’s too bad Heero’s in Denver. If he was at home, I’d skype him so he could watch us.”

The idea had merit, but Wufei also knew that if they woke up Heero at five am just to watch them fuck, the other man would not be pleased.

“You’re such an exhibitionist,” Wufei muttered.

Duo grinned at him, and then rose to his feet and pressed a firm kiss against Wufei’s mouth, teasing his lips open until their tongues tangled together and they were both breathless.

“Be right back. I’m going to go steal a condom from the sound guy’s supplies and some aloe from the first-aid kit.”

Wufei rolled his eyes, but Duo was out of the room before he could say anything.

The wireless microphones that they used for the actors in the show were wrapped in condoms to prevent sweat damaging the sensitive units. The condoms were unlubricated, and Wufei had been working in theatres long enough to listen to the complaints of sound engineers who found their condom supplies mysteriously diminished after the location was discovered.

Duo reappeared, brandishing his stolen goods with a smirk.

Wufei rolled his eyes and took both from him.

“Where do you want me?” Duo asked, tugging off his shirt and shoving down his jeans and boxers without finesse.

Wufei didn’t care, though. The sight of Duo’s naked body needed no fancy reveal.

He loved the lean, narrow planes of Duo’s torso, the jut of his hips and the way his thighs flexed, the dark curls that framed his cock. The tattoos scattered across Duo’s body, each with their own story, whispered to Wufei in the dark over the preceding months.

“Wufei?”

Duo was grinning at him, amused at Wufei’s obvious appreciation for him.

Duo ran a hand down his torso and wrapped it around his cock, stroking himself until his face and chest were flushed and his lips were parted.

“Bend over the table,” Wufei instructed, gesturing to the small cafe table in the breakroom.

The table that he usually sat at every night as he typed up reports.

It would be good to have an entirely different kind of memory associated with it.

Duo grinned and positioned himself, his toes just barely touching the ground, and Wufei took a moment to appreciate the vision before moving behind Duo.

He stroked a hand down Duo’s spine, and Duo shivered and moaned, arching into the touch.

Wufei put the condom and aloe down on the table beside Duo’s hip, and used both hands to squeeze Duo’s ass.

They had worked together on two shows since first meeting, since Duo had first propositioned Wufei. And while there had been more than a few late nights spent at the theatres kissing and groping each other - even one memorable night of Duo sucking him off in the booth - this was the first time they had ever had sex in a theatre.

Wufei felt just enough anxiety over someone walking in and catching them that it gave his arousal an edge.

He prepared Duo quickly, using the aloe to work his body open, to tease Duo into gasping and cursing and writhing under him, and when Wufei finally slid into Duo’s body, the unlubricated condom needing every last bit of the aloe to make the motion smooth, Wufei knew he wasn’t going to last long.

His tension and arousal were heightened by the whiskey, and he could tell that Duo was in an equal state.

It wasn’t going to last long, but that didn’t mean Wufei didn’t want it to feel good, for him and for Duo.

“You’re so tight,” he panted, trying to find a pace that would work for both of them.

“That’s because I’ve been sleeping alone for the past two weeks,” Duo grunted. He shifted back against Wufei, changing up the rhythm just enough.

“Whose fault is that?” he growled.

“Sorry,” Duo panted, “I’m an ass.”

“Hm,” Wufei agreed. He squeezed Duo’s cheeks, hard enough that Duo hissed. “You are.”

“I know,” Duo moaned. “I know.”

The force of Wufei’s thrusts rocked the table, and Duo with it.

Wufei bent down and pressed a kiss to the nape of Duo’s neck, breathing in the scent of him.

“It’s okay,” he told Duo. “You’re going to make it up to me, remember?”

And then he started fucking Duo hard enough that neither of them had breath for conversation.

The small room was filled with the sound of their flesh meeting, of Duo’s broken pleas for more, and Wufei’s groans as he repeatedly sank into the hot, tight sheath of Duo’s body.

Duo came first, and his body drew Wufei deeper, clenching around him and spurring his own climax.

Wufei was left feeling both overwhelmed with sensation and amazingly empty.

He pressed his face against Duo’s back, and tried to catch his breath.

Predictably, Duo caught his breath first.

“Now that is a celebration.”

-o-

#cocktail friday #2x5 #nightsong #lark #gundam wing #1x2x5 #theatre sex

[punkscowardschampions]

Ali & Tommy

Ali: Now on the coach Ali: How's Ro been? Ali: Tried to give her as much space as poss Tommy: I'll give it a minute before I let ma know, yeah? Give you some space too like Tommy: Proper shut down. Standard Tommy: She ain't said a word to none of us Ali: Cheers Ali: Been a fucking event, don't think even Ma can top the drama but not dying to find out Ali: I thought as much 😟 Ali: I don't think there's much to be done but be there when she's ready though, right? Ali: idk, plenty of friends cried on these shoulders but never Ro over this, its new ground Tommy: You're alright Tommy: I reckoned as much when she flew home Tommy: Like I've been in with tea but I'm blatantly juggling cups and nothing else Tommy: She ain't about my efforts Tommy: Offered to dance battle him and she didn't even laugh Ali: Tah for being tea boy though, more necessary and appreciated than it might seem when she's catatonic Ali: to be fair, that isn't funny, babe 😜 Tommy: Giving it a go Tommy: x 2 like Tommy: oi I'm well funny Ali: 💚 Ali: hmm Ali: i hope that's not your aim w this theatre school lark Ali: standup you ain't Tommy: Laugh it up or you ain't getting your welcome home cupcakes honey Tommy: 🌟 baker I am Ali: tears of a clown baby bro Ali: 'cos bet mary berry herself didn't whip up anything for your arrival only days previous Ali: that's da Ali: mum is OBVS paul Ali: the accent, the blue steel, the unnecessary harsh judgment Tommy: 😂 Tommy: The cupboards were bare before yours truly showed up to help with the big shop Tommy: Working my ballet body without rest here Ali: wanna have a fab summer not a flab one darling Ali: only thinking of all the money they ain't had to put into your training #datscholarshiptho Tommy: Put your claws away if you ain't aiming them at a diff blonde lad Tommy: That'll be why I'm shameless fave not cause none of yous are about Ali: seriously don't Ali: he better square up when we're in that car park Ali: if the teachers don't get him first...you won't believe the fucking scandal blatantly occurring rn Ali: obvs 😘 'til Bea and Fraze become the big ballers they wanna be and start paying it back Ali: all 'bout that dolla Tommy: if you heard that lad, gotta post up 🥊 Tommy: someone better smack that cunt Tommy: Spill it sister, how is he on worse behavior? Nearly a proper skill at this point Ali: I plan to Ali: just followed Carly into the fucking cupboard bog, like Ali: in what world are you not getting caught Ali: we're in a fucking tin can Tommy: ERRR Tommy: Your Carly? Tommy: she can do better Ali: I been telling her Ali: best believe Ali: can't drag her out like time out bitch Ali: he's a disease s2g Ali: every fucking girl I know Tommy: 💔 not about that for her Tommy: Every girl except you? 🤔 suspect Ali: nah Ali: don't need to tell you he treats her like shit, duh Ali: ☕ Tommy: let me at her inbox tbh Tommy: not having this Tommy: she's a cutie Ali: do it Ali: meddlin' gay who smugly knows best defs a better stereotype than jealous ex Ali: 😣 no tah Tommy: Valid Tommy: Your eyes ain't gone green though, have they? Tommy: If this is a triangle, or love square tell me now bitch Ali: Bitch Ali: how dare you do me down like that Ali: Nah, I just want her to be happy Ali: and ain't happening with that cunt Tommy: Don't you reckon she knows that Tommy: She was happy with you but that went how it went maybe she's not looking for it to be like that again Ali: Oh, so I just let her fuck her life up Ali: polite smiles from the sideline like SOOOOO happy for you babes, what a man! Ali: Pfffft 😒 Ali: be a better gay Tommy: Nah but putting yourself out there for the real shit is such a THING Tommy: I get it Ali: So dramatic the lot of you Ali: not gotta get a pug and a mortgage Ali: if you ain't going out there tryna be happy every day every way Ali: what's the point Ali: a madness Tommy: Maybe she's all out of trying after putting up with your high maintenance arse for so long ☕ Tommy: 😂 Tommy: Nobody's bringing their best for that basic fuckboy Ali: 🖕 piss off hair product Tommy: Like you take any less time putting together your 'effortless' lewks you faux hippie Tommy: Don't be coming for my crowning glory Ali: Bleurgh Ali: forgot how much of a bitch you were Ali: when you going back again? 😘 Tommy: We've all seen you #bringitforberlin Tommy: Not that I'm jealous nah Tommy: But how was it? Drama aside Ali: 👼 Don't push me down the stairs, watching my back now like 👀 Ali: It overshadowed everything lowkey but yeah Ali: still ace Tommy: You'll bring it back around when you flatten Drew Ali: 🍑👏 him Tommy: 👑 Tommy: what are we gonna do about Ro and Carly though? 🤔 Must focus Ali: soz, my booty has that affect Ali: but seriously Ali: I am fresh out of ideas... Ali: maybe he's like Samson and we need to give him a buzzcut Ali: break the spell Tommy: or shove a bowl on his head and ✂ Ali: ain't far off Ali: ☕ it ain't that cute a cut Ali: its just shiny and blonde, snap out of it ladies! Tommy: Honestly Tommy: Meena got all the looks and that's the tea Ali: Oooooooooh! 😉 Ali: No argument tho even if you're 😍 Tommy: SHUT YOUR MOUTH WHEN YOU TALK TO ME ALISON Tommy: She's just better than him very HIGHKEY Tommy: Take it up with our man JC Ali: 😂 Ali: Bless Ali: so sweet Ali: and finally Ali: a matrimony we can all get behind Tommy: excuse me he made me and her both queens Tommy: too fabulous for your hetero baiting of the audience Ali: sure jan Ali: can't fake that chemistry Ali: told you, you're a shit actor Tommy: Take a step back Marsha if you don't want me coming for your weave Tommy: You reckoned on your ex a few back? Marlene would blatantly kill Drew no questions Ali: 💅💄 jealousy's a disease, get well soon bitch 😷 Ali: now you gay baiting! Tommy: 😂 Ali: Let karma sort him out Ali: Ro's well out of it Ali: Carly, I hope, knows what she's doing, even if I don't fuck with it Ali: he ain't gonna 💔 Tommy: Yeah Tommy: Still, drink and debrief when you get home? Tommy: I wanna hear how the teachers throw down Ali: fosho Ali: dog or you SO 100% G.A.Y. now you refuse to go anywhere that ain't flying at least 2 rainbow flags at all times? 😉 Tommy: 🌈 or bust Tommy: not gonna be Ro's scene but if you wanna bring Carly that cunt isn't gonna set foot in such hallowed ground Ali: A different concept for scared straight but I'm with it Ali: I'll ask her Ali: got a party dress I didn't get to debut, gotta save something for the home crowd, like Tommy: I'd watch THAT show Ali: wouldn't we all Ali: so much teen mum to catch up on, you best not have watched it without me! Tommy: Not trying to get struck down ta Tommy: That fury's all for Drew Ali: unless you've deleted all the recording like ur burning after reading, you're alright kid Tommy: Honey I know what's holy Ali: thank God someone does Ali: Drew getting kicked straight to hell and off this bus if he don't chill Tommy: They still going? Tommy: Ugh Ali: Nah Ali: Laoise and her crew dobbed, which fair enough literally no one needs it, doubt they got started before the teachs' were yanking them out Ali: if they had handcuffs Drew would be chained to his seat rn no lie Ali: citizen's arrests and full-scale riot behaviour going down rn from everyone slating Carly Tommy: omhg Tommy: I hope someone's streaming Tommy: Gonna send my girl 💚🍀 Ali: no doubt Ali: reckon we might have to make an emergency stop Ali: couldn't even make the trip home Ali: really lads REALLY Tommy: And I thought my school was full of drama queens and kings Tommy: Christ alive Ali: honestly Ali: got nothing on the common people Ali: i'm so over it Ali: gonna knock myself over the head in a minute so i don't have to deal Tommy: I'd suggest a sing song but don't reckon that'll cut it Tommy: Call me a bad gay again but Tommy: Never hear you over the war cries like Ali: 😂 if there was ever a moment for kumbaya Tommy: If they'd let you keep your 🎸 you'd be thriving Tommy: Yeah I heard about that casual confiscation Tommy: Weapon in more ways than one though, lads Ali: THANK YOU Ali: how we gon' play for peace now Ali: gonna have to get real happy clappy Tommy: 👏stop👏 slutshaming👏 carly👏 Tommy: End with a mexican wave that knocks that cunt out Tommy: She alright? Tommy: I just saw a flash of Ro, safe to say she ain't Ali: I mean, as much as they're all just using this as an excuse to do that Ali: lowkey have a point on this one Ali: why here and why now Ali: its disrespectful Tommy: Talk to her Tommy: Someone's clearly keeping Ro in the loop somehow, is that likely to be her? Ali: Idk Ali: I don't think its her style Ali: she isn't doing it to be malicious to Ro but yeah, idk why she is Tommy: Is she proper 💘 on Drew Tommy: 'Cause lord Ali: How could anyone be Tommy: I have literally no clue Tommy: But Ro's not 💔 about her German accent or whatever Tommy: It's all about him so there's gotta be something we're missing Ali: Oh, that ain't about him Ali: about a lot of things but him being a vessel for her intimacy issues and insecurities is just one of 'em Tommy: So he could've been anyone? Score - 1 for Romeo Ali: Any dickhead who's not gonna make it real on his end and ruin the fairytale, yeah Ali: dime a dozen Tommy: ☕ Ali: safe to say he's fucked the narrative still tho Ali: although, has he? 'cos secretly feeds into the 'i'm wrong and strange' deal we all know is there Tommy: Savage Tommy: But accurate Ali: I know Ali: Die before I said it to her face, like but Ali: makes me worried if she needs to prove that theory right again he could make a reappearance Ali: everyone loves a bit of self-destruction Ali: can't judge but I am Tommy: Samsies Tommy: Fuck's sake Tommy: This family Ali: Rocky the only one with a healthy functioning relationship tbh Tommy: The realest Tommy: Even ma's met her match in ro rn though Tommy: She's lowkey freaking me out and I'm used to you weirdos Ali: Explain Ali: I've seen her at her freakiest, remember, so are we talking worse? Tommy: True maybe I'm just out of practice Tommy: Ghost like vibes catching me off guard Ali: We'll have to keep an eye on the food Ali: she doesn't eat much, and never in front of any of us now Ali: but I can tell when she's had something Ali: make sure we're not hungerstrike vibes again Tommy: I reckon she'll be alright-ish when you get home Tommy: Much as she ever is, you know Tommy: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Tommy: She's not gonna want to go to hospital or any of that shit Ali: Yeah, you're right Ali: I'm being dramatic, it's catching Tommy: 👑 Tommy: Bea will be if she sees her Tommy: Jesus take the wheel and spare me that Ali: 😬 Ali: can hear the 'I told you so' from here Ali: we're all thinking it but shh Tommy: Inside voices like we do at least Ali: Never know Ali: might be the motivation she needs Ali: Bea disappointment Tommy: Oh snap Ali: You know it works Ali: on Fraze too 😂 Tommy: 😂 Tommy: Yeah

[theowlsarenotwhattheyremembers]

Episode 1: Dragonstone

Right guys I know you’ll have already watched this but look I only just started this blog and I can’t miss the first episode off also you will benefit from my insights regardless. 

!!!! I have been in a state of extreme agitation all year and I can’t actually cope with the fact that it’s here. I am not emotionally prepared and do not know what I just saw. 

Scene 1: Did everyone else not realise that was Arya and think we were in a flashback? I am so overwhelmed I am just right there in the moment I have no idea what’s about to happen. Then all those ratface (rats are intelligent moral creatures but you know what I mean) Freys start coughing up their own lower organs!! When did Arya learn about poisons? Was her training montage long enough to justify this?? I guess it was! And I know the Freys have deathsentence hospitality karma but baking your sons in a pie and feeding it to you and then dressing up in your corpse and poisoning your entire family - is that an eye for an eye according to whichever god is keeping score in this case? I guess possibly! 

This recap blog is going to have an eye for History and Fable (matters which I know only very modest amounts about but there is google) and the sparknotes on Titus Andronicus on which the pie move is based indicates that it may lead to an ambivalent conclusion:

[After a succession of grisly heinous acts of reciprocal violence, Titus] tricks [Tamora, Queen of the Goths], captures her sons, kills them, and makes pie out of them. He feeds this pie to their mother in the final scene, after which he kills both Tamora and Lavinia, his own daughter. A rash of killings ensue; the only people left alive are Marcus [Titus’ brother], Lucius [Titus’ son], Young Lucius [his son], and Aaron [Tamora’s lover]. Lucius has the unrepentant Aaron buried alive, and Tamora's corpse thrown to the beasts. He becomes the new emperor of Rome.

This does not end well for the pie baker, though I suppose his kin are the ones who ultimately triumph. My male friends will often assume that I, a woman, feel empowered and liberated by the character of Arya, the traumatised magical child murderer. Not so, friends. My favourite liberated Game of Thrones #strongfemalecharacter is the lost unlamented Ros, sex worker from the north invented for TV for the purposes of the early sexposition-heavy plot who voyages down south with the Starks and whose illustrious sex spy career is wastefully cut short by Cunt Joffrey. Ros was working-class woman who fled the north before winter even came, whose talents were picked up by the farsighted Varys and who would have made an incredible Kings Landing player had it not been for the misogyny of Joffrey and the script writers and the twat fans who think the TV has to be like the crappy books which I have not read. Rest in Power Ros, this blog is dedicated to you. 

Anyway I haven’t really recapped anything yet and this blog is already overlong  so let’s get back to it. 

Scene 2: The army of the north are coming!! This is too terrifying, it’s hot outside but I am wrapped in a blanket. There are multiple ice zombie giants as we all knew there would be. Let’s remember that like one living giant almost successfully broke through the gate at Castle Black during the wildling battle ages ago; multiple zombie giants are going to make fucking matchsticks of it no magic required, though they probably also have loads of that, those dragons need to get here pronto. Also why haven’t they iceblocked up the gate like Jon said they should ages ago??

Scene 2.5 (s2 was a vision I guess) Commander Dolorous Edd opens the gate to Meera and Bran, and asks if they are wildlings. Why does it matter? Wildlings can all come in anyway, that’s very much the policy now. Also if anything Bran saying “you were at Hardhome” etc only makes him seem more like a wildling, and a scary one? Anyway, no-one cares / everyone is too spooked to stay outside for long and so thank god poor Meera in particular can have a massive eat and a sleep by the fire. She and her magic and fighting skills have been wasted on being a less effective Hodor / wheelchair substitute, I eagerly anticipate her being given a chance to shine now our kids are back to what passes for civilisation. 

Scene 3: Jon and Sansa are still holding court with the whole Northern gentry from last season. At least all those guys look warm in that nice hall toasting their feet on Winterfell’s famous underfloor heating! That awful bloke from the Vale *googles it* Yohn Royce makes an extremely unreasonable and tactics-free suggestion to demolish some of the last strongholds between them and the wall because of “justice” or whatever. Sansa points out that the castles themselves didn’t commit crimes (top-notch statecraft) but suggests they be given to loyal families to punish treason and reward loyalty. Jon makes a generous decision to let the young Karstarks and Umbers stay in their homes despite their twatty dads, making the good and frankly biblical point that the sons shouldn’t be punished for their fathers’ sins. Sansa is unhappy about this and she is probably a better king than Jon, or rather, I think they are both good kings but need to team up and respect each other, which she is really keen to do but unfortunately is also a woman so this makes things harder for everyone because they have to unlearn misogyny first.

Then she tells Littlefinger who barges in to their important conversation what would make her so happy was if he shut up and fucked off, and not to bother trying to get the last word, she’ll just assume it was clever. Which is a King’s Landing style burn! Please Jon, show that this queen is not wasted on the north. Also please Littlefinger, fuck off and die. 

Scene 4:  I collapsed a couple of bits into one there but I am aware that this is too long already because of my Titus Andronicus and Roslove detour, for which I am unrepentant, tune back in next post for more of the same. ANYWAY, here she is, best villain in GoT. She may be evil, but who wouldn’t be in her position? Cersei marches over a map of Westeros telling Jaime she is already 5 moves ahead of him and has an Armada on the way headed by a man who is desperate to impress her. Everyone thinks Jaime is going to kill her, but might she not kill Jaime? She absolutely has no further fucks to give whatsoever and just wants power and revenge and to die a fabulous drunk old evil empress with ten husbands each more devoted and militarily useful than the last. I hope she dies much sooner than that! I also think she will because she can’t be the one to win the game of thrones. Can she?? Could the alcoholic childless widow of the usurper king really win in the end? She could have more children if she could be bothered probably, if she was in a mood to consider dynastic matters. In this scene, she is not, and is just savouring the prospect of ruling the world asap and as bloodily as you like. 

Scene 5: And here he fucking is! They really did cut down every tree on the Iron Islands! How did they throw this fleet together so quickly! It does not look like they cut corners! Those boats are fucking terrifying!

Is this even scene 5? Cersei and Jaime are immediately there, standing on the balcony, watching Euron’s terrifying Armada approach. Everything is happening extremely fast. This is not like the midseasons when everyone was walking painfully slowly around the Riverlands. Why do they have to get it all over as quickly as possible? Have they run out of money? I am no less overwhelmed than ever.

Scene 6: Thesp Goth Euron woos Cersei by saying she’s the most beautiful woman in the world and promising to give her a priceless gift to get to her woman’s heart. This is very tacky but it kind of confirms her power as actual queen and is a highpoint so far since the nadir of the Walk of Shame. Do you think the wildfire explosion of all the King’s Landing gentry and the Sparrows was the highpoint? Maybe that was the violence highpoint, and this is the statecraft highpoint. Also Euron’s “gift” is going to be more violence, and he also offers up his “two good hands,” at which Jaime, on behalf of us all, recoils. 

Cersei seems likely to graciously accept the first gift before declining the second. Has her Sparrows experience taught her not to unleash forces against her enemies which she then cannot control and which then turn on her? Probably not!

I hate that sleazy prat Euron and can’t believe that Fantasizr drafted him into my Game of Game of Thrones league. Any points I get for him are a badge of shame (I got 15 for this scene). 

Scene 7: Sam stars in music video soup poop library montage! Sam during this is confirmed as the fat nerd with a goatee and slicked back hair avatar of the show’s condescending idea of what a GoT fan looks like, corroborating the theory that Sam is actually the narrator / the Perspective from which the story is seen. Sam nicks some useful books after Jim Broadbent tells him he believes but doesn’t care that the White Walkers and the Long Night are coming. There is science going on in the Citadel, medical science involving weighing organs. This science needs to be more applied. Incidentally everyone, Game of Thrones is not medieval, it is Early Modern:

What Martin actually gives us is a fantasy version of what the historian Alfred Crosby called the Post-Columbian exchange: the globalizing epoch of the 16th and 17th centuries. A world where merchants trade exotic drugs and spices between continents, where professional standing armies can number in the tens or hundreds of thousands, where scholars study the stars via telescopes, and proto-corporations like the Iron Bank of Braavos and the Spicers of Qarth control global trade. It’s also a world of slavery on a gigantic scale, and huge wars that disrupt daily life to an unprecedented degree.

[…] even the medieval aesthetics of the show owes a debt to the 16th and 17th centuries. As any scholar of the The Fairie Queene will tell you, Renaissance literature is replete with tales of chivalry, jousting, dragon-slaying, and magic. Writers from Spencer to Cervantes displayed and abiding fascination with these medieval tropes precisely because they were witnessing their demise. And our modern conception of the Middle Ages, which emerged out of the Victorians’ fascination with Neo-Gothic and Pre-Raphaelite aesthetics, was actually based upon these early modern retellings of medieval life.

So why, outside of dorky pedantry, does any of this matter? Because fantasy worlds are never just fantasy. They appeal to us because they refract our own histories and speak to contemporary interests. George R.R. Martin’s fantasy has grown to enormous popularity in part because of its modernity, not its “medieviality.”

Scene 8: Back at Winterfell, we get to see Tormund’s brilliant face he puts on when he looks at Brienne:

To me this is adorable rather than creepy because though Tormund is a sex pest, it feels like this comes from a place of respect and genuine adoration. Also Brienne could dispatch him devastatingly before he knew what was happening and he absolutely knows it. 

Actually this scene is where Sansa delivers her burn to Littlefinger, but onwards!

Scene 9: The unforgivable casting and all-round existence of Ed Sheeran aside, this scene was bad because of the insufferably one-dimensional laid-on-thick Simple Honest Country Blokeness of the Lannister soldiers. Arya is obviously considering whether or not to kill them, do you think? But they are so Nice she reconsiders. 

The fact that she is still more than capable of affection, forming relationships, caring about people and so on, as also witnessed by that actor mother figure she befriended last season, indicates that despite ongoing trauma (actor murdered horribly in front of her, like all her friends) she is not the cold psycho she sometimes pretends she is. She is not Cersei (yet anyway). This is the point of this scene. Also to confirm that she is working through her list and Cersei is next. 

Scene 10: More redemption of traumatised killer characters! The Hound is riding with the Brotherhood Without Banners in a frozen bucolic twilight. What an adorable combo! Lines like “Why are you always in such a foul mood?” “Experience” and “There is no Divine Justice, you dumb cunt. If there was, you’d be dead” indicate that the BwB bring out the best in my bff @lasophus’ favourite character. They stop at the place where The Hound robbed those innocent country folk a few seasons back, as we were reminded of in the excitingly scored Previously sequence at the beginning. They have subsequently died of starvation-related causes as he and Arya predicted they would at the time. The Hound is now sorry and sees a vision in the flames of the Army of the Dead and buries the bodies of his victims and says some adorable words over them. The Hound’s redemption story is much more moving and interesting and spiritual than Jaime’s (a plotline I name “Choozy the Floozy” because of its Manichean orbit around his two love interests Evil Cersei and Good Brienne). But meanwhile the dramatic irony is killing us viewers at home! That poor little girl and her dad are going to rise as wights!! 

Scene 11: Sam fails to impress by finding out in the stolen restricted classified high-importance books that he was sent to the Citadel to read something that Stannis already told everyone but they ignored because he was too boring to listen to (what a merciful death that was at the hands of Can She Do No Wrong Brienne): Dragonstone needs to become an opencast Dragonglass mine asap. Which is a pity as Dragonstone is such an arresting work in the ‘dragon-brutalist’ style popular at the time of Aegon the Conquerer (which we will be admiring in the next scene but one). Sam fires off a raven to Jon which I hope will not be intercepted by some library rules-stickler maesters. 

Also it’s nice to see Gilly and Little Sam looking so well-dressed and -fed in this scene. Gilly, a sexual abuse survivor subaltern from a wintry hellhole with an evil father and who would otherwise have become an ice zombie by now, is far, far south, in a land where you can still get away with dressing lightly, inside a city which according to awoiaf “is surrounded by massive, thick, high stone walls.” Also their flat looks really nice.

Well done Gilly.

Scene 12: Jorah! Things have not gone well for you! Jorah is an obsessively lovelorn prisoner in a well-regulated, proto-humane leper colony. I guess actually that going to the seat of all worldly learning was a good move, but your terrible disease is going to need more than trolley gruel and a clean cell to be cured. Thankfully Our Sam is wearing gloves when Jorah does his unnecessarily dramatic Ghoul Grab. 

Scene 13: Our queen is coming home and everyone has put on eyeliner for the occasion! The general drift of the season’s wardrobe has been towards a kind of moody, shoulderpads-and-eyemakeup, subdued-charcoal-tones vibe. Everyone is looking great. Especially Cersei actually when she was receiving (at safe distance) Euron, and now Daenerys is looking wonderful too, with fine dragony detailing on her the tips of her shoulderpads. Actually Sansa had this look too, “Goth Military Queen” is clearly going to be massive this season. 

Daenerys has a moving moment with the Westerosi sand when she comes ashore. We have been waiting 6 seasons for this. Oh my god. 

I hope all the dragonglass mining won’t damage these amazing rock formations too much! 

This scene is mainly going to be recapped in screenshots.

A gorgeous example of Early Modern Dragon Brutalism.

Art throne

Fucking YES!

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