“Extended” duel scene.
Mercutio had fun till the last moment.
Is the Haven smth like a sect or...?
If by ‘sect’ you mean they were once part of a larger religion that broke off, I don’t really think so. I specifically did not want to cause offense to any religion. However, some aspects were inspired by The Family International (aka The Children of God), others from Scientology, and others from fiction and fanfiction.
I definitely think they broke off from Christianity as a whole at some point in the recent past, but it is disconnected enough to not be considered remotely similar. Their worship is more scientific and technological, and they do not use any common sources of doctrine, such as the Bible.
Hope this helped! Feel free to ask more clarifying questions if it didn’t. Thanks for the ask!
Bereczki Zoltán as Mercutio.
I just saw the captions and I knew that I had to reblog this.
what the hell is going on in this gifset because I kind of want it.
Welcome to what is ‘Romeo es Julia’, the Hungarian adaptation of Romeo et Juliette that takes place in a dystopian future and contains an epileptic Tybalt, fire, a very very very bisexual Mercutio, fire, leather, chain mail, fire, a fucking terrifying double suicide that Romeo and Juliet manage to pull off that is hella crazy, fire, blood, and fire.
DID I MENTION FIRE BECAUSE HUNGARIAN THEATRE ALWAYS HAS SOME SHIT ON FIRE I SWEAR.
Never not reblog when this appears on your dash
why is logan such a bitch about patton's disability in slower than words? /pos
Thanks for the ask! Ngl the wording made me laugh a bit.
Logan, like Remus, Patton, and Virgil, is very traumatized from his experiences in the Haven. However, unlike the other three, Logan is making no effort to deal with his trauma healthily.
For the years that Logan spent in the Haven, he knew that in order to have no special attention, you had to be average or below. He knew that Patton was a bright kid, so if Patton ever learned how to lip-read/speak, the members of the cult would want to exploit that. He didn’t want Patton working in a position like his own. By refusing to teach him how to understand the others, he saved him from much of the brainwashing.
Logan is scared, and can’t accept the fact that the outside world is different. He’s certain that Patton will be taken away from him, brainwashed into hating him or even forgetting him.
What Logan is doing, while pitiable, is wrong and manipulative. He is beginning to understand that, and will be getting help shortly. It’s important to recognize that he is human and trying his best, from his own skewed worldview. I promise he gets better and comes to feel very bad and sorry for what he did.
I’m happy to answer any other questions about the fic!
People make fun of Romeo and Juliet for falling in love so fast but honestly I think Verona in the universe of the play is a place where things are expected to happen at like x2.5 speed. Like Juliet’s parents are like “Oh, you’re crying, Juliet? Not for Tybalt, surely? Why are you still sad about your favourite cousin getting brutally stabbed in the street? That was yesterday, get over it already.”
Portable hobbit hole from the future
ITS THE EARTH POD WE GOT THE FULL SET
WE UNLOCKED THE WHOLE GODDAMN SET
long ago, the four pods lived together in harmony …
six more days…
four more days….
two more days
today’s the daaaay!!!!!
Patton in a duck onesie for my soul please 👀
Thank you so much for requesting this I love this a lot <3
(click for better quality)
reblogs >>> likes
let me know if you want to be added to any taglists (:
cw: light physical violence, spiraling thoughts
They always say that time stops. The world freezes. Nothing so much as breathes when you meet their eyes. The world is dreamlike, and the two of you are the only things in it. The only life, pulled together by instantaneous love.
That wasn’t what happened when Patton saw Virgil.
Instead, time seemed to skip a beat, then move even faster than before.
Several seconds were lost, and Patton stared around as the room changed. Remus’s parents were hugging the other person who entered with Virgil, who he guessed was Remus’s brother Roman. Remus was standing now, closer to the mantel on the other side of the room, and suddenly Remus’s dad wasn’t even in the room, he was outside with Roman, and Virgil was leaving too. Patton exchanged a look with Remus—he clearly recognized Virgil. He looked scared, and kept biting his lips. Patton felt fear rise, and almost stood up himself—it felt strange, to be the only thing that hadn’t moved. Like he was in the eye of a storm. It was times like these that Patton wished he could hear.
Roman was back and Remus seemed to cower away, turning his face. That didn’t hide him. Roman’s eyes landed on Patton for a moment, who waved awkwardly. A crease of confusion appeared between his eyes, barely affecting his cheery smile, then he saw Remus and his face lost all color and the smile slid from his lips.
Roman stepped forward slowly, as if time had stopped for him—and maybe it had. Patton felt afraid to breathe, afraid to disturb the almost shimmering quality of this meeting. Roman approached his brother, and Patton could certainly see the resemblance. Sure, Roman’s hair was shorter and styled, and he was clean-shaven, but the two were almost exactly the same height. Their hair color was within a shade of difference, and Roman had that same dimple that Remus did. Even their body types appeared to be modeled off each other. If Patton hadn’t known better, he would have guessed they were twins.
Roman was turned away from him, so if he said anything, Patton didn’t know. What Patton did know was that Remus said something, accompanied with a slight quirk of his mouth, then crumpled against the wall as Roman’s fist hit his face.
Patton did jump up now, and Remus’s dad ran to check on Remus while his mom held Roman back. Then Patton turned to the door and saw Virgil again, clearly saying something, eyes scrunched up as he ran his fingers along his forearm.
Virgil. He looked just like himself, but different. His hair was shorter—normal length for him, probably, just dipping into his eyes. His eyes were far more clear than Patton had ever seen them, and he was surprised to see just how sparkly they really were—almost as if rays of sun were peeking through the cloudy grey. His jeans were torn and splattered with paint, but it was probably on purpose. He was wearing a hoodie, plain black, not near as nice as the purple-patched one Patton was wearing. His cheeks were full, there was a ring on his hand, his shoes were nice.
For everything that made Virgil unrecognizable, there was something that was unmistakably him. The shadows under his eyes matched the black of his jacket. His fingers tapped lithely on his forearm, as if spelling. His stance was slouched, and the curve of his lip caught between his teeth spoke volumes about how anxious he was. He ran one hand through his hair, causing it to stick straight up and causing Patton to experience a wave of intense homesickness. This was his Virgil.
Patton was across the room in three strides that felt like only half of one, time skipping again until he found himself in front of Virgil, tripping over a bump in the carpet, quite literally falling into his arms. Virgil tensed. Patton waited.
Wasn’t this when everything was supposed to become perfect? The moment where it all washed away, and nothing mattered except him? A shield against the outer world, safe forever in his arms.
But Patton still felt hurt. He still felt angry at his father. He still felt lost. He still felt like something inside was broken, or missing, or taken. Being with Virgil was supposed to fix everything, but nothing felt like it had changed.
Tears built up in Patton’s eyes as he let Virgil push him away. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Why wasn’t it okay yet? Why did he still feel wrong?
He loved Virgil so much. Maybe he could be not-okay. Maybe he could be not-better, with Virgil.
That sounded … all right. That sounded lovely, even.
Softly, Patton took Virgil’s arm, not letting him jerk away when he tried. Virgil, he traced, trying not to let the tears spill onto his cheeks. Virgil, Virgil, Virgil. It’s me. It’s me. It’s Patton.
“Roman Hyrum Allred! Do not punch your brother—do not punch anyone!”
“Nah, it’s … it’s, uh, okay. Dad.” Remus prodded his nose gingerly. It stung, but didn’t seem to be broken. “I told him he could.”
Roman shook his hand out, pulling away from their mom. “Hey,” he said casually. “Where’ve you been?”
Remus let his dad help him up. “Around,” he answered, just as casually. He didn’t really feel like baring his soul at the moment.
“Remus, are you all right?” his dad asked quietly, checking out his face with concern. It must’ve looked pretty bad. Still, Remus waved him off.
“Yeah. Just glad he remembered the three R’s.”
from him, Roman smiled sheepishly. “I kept my promise.” He
laughed slightly, then let the smile fade. “Why are you
This was sort of what Remus had been afraid of. He didn’t exactly feel welcome, but to have it spelled out like that sucked. His family had grown up without him. Roman looked so old, No longer the little middle-school kid in the front row of the choir concert. He just couldn’t wrap his head around it—he’d accepted long ago that he’d lost them, probably forever. Now, though, it really hit home. Remus hadn’t just lost them. He’d lost an entire life, one that he wasn’t sure he could ever get back.
Even now, surrounded by his family, he felt like a stranger. The house was the same house, these were the same people, but he no longer belonged to them. It felt fake. Nothing like how he’d imagined a reunion to be.
Remus wondered if he could pass off the tears as a result of the burning in his nose.
“I, uh,” Remus cleared his throat. “I got lost. And trapped.” He held Roman’s gaze. There was nothing familiar in those eyes. “I tell ya, all I’ve wanted for years was to come back.”
“So why didn’t you?” Roman asked. He didn’t waver, didn’t even blink, his expression more solemn than Remus had ever seen on a thirteen year old–because he wasn’t thirteen. He was a whole adult.
“It’s not that simple—” Remus started, but Roman cut him off.
“Yes it is.” His tone brokered no argument, and Remus watched the openness in his eyes shutter closed. “It is that simple. All you have to do is tell me where you were and why you couldn’t come back. That’s all I need. Then I’ll forgive you.”
Remus balked. He wasn’t here for forgiveness—except he was, sort of. He wanted to make up for leaving them, he wanted to tell them everything that had kept him from returning home, but the words stuck in his throat. How could he sit them down and calmly explain that he got caught up in a cult that brainwashed him to the point of rewriting and erasing old memories? How could he tell them that he only barely escaped with his life, then struggled to even remember their names?
can’t,” he muttered. Roman turned away.
“Of course,” Roman said tiredly. “Like always. Virgil, would you—?” he fell silent. Roman’s arms fell to his sides as he stared at something. Remus leaned to the side, trying to see what it was.
Remus had seen Virgil when he’d walked in, but had completely ignored him. It was absurd for him to be here—what were the odds that Virgil would be kidnapped by a cult Remus was in, and also know Roman, halfway across the country? Remus would have written it off as a hallucination if Patton hadn’t also seen him. So instead, he decided to focus on more tangible things, like his college-age brother and his unfamiliar eyes.
Now Virgil had fallen to his knees, his mouth an ‘o’, choking on tears. In his arms was Patton, also bawling his eyes out. They were holding onto each other so tightly Remus could see Virgil’s knuckles turning white, bunched up in Pat’s hoodie. Honestly? Remus wasn’t surprised. Other than, of course, the ongoing shock that Virgil was even here.
This was the weirdest day ever, and coming from a man who had lived in a cult for about a decade? That was saying something.
Roman crouched beside the two, laying his hand on Patton’s back. “You must be Patton,” he said kindly. “It’s so good to meet you.”
Okay, now Remus was crying. When had his brother graduated from the shrimpy little eighth grader who was constantly picking fights to a smiling young man who would comfort people he hardly knew? Not for the first time (and certainly not for the last), Remus wished he’d never left.
Virgil laughed wetly, briefly letting go of Patton to lightly smack Roman’s arm. “He can’t hear, moron,” he croaked.
Remus left before he could see any more, stumbling a bit in the doorway of the kitchen. This wasn’t really his moment. This wasn’t his moment, or home, or life. This all felt so … weird. So … out of place.
Roman seemed happy, at least. Better than he’d been before he left. Remus couldn’t believe he’d remembered, and kept that promise all those years.
“You gotta stop fighting everyone.”
“You’re not my dad!”
The kid turned away, tension in every line of his body. Remus rolled his eyes. “So?” he said, shutting his bedroom door. “Stop acting out. It’s embarrassing.”
Roman laughed bitterly. “For who? You?”
Roman turned back. Tears were dripping from the corners of his eyes. “Well, maybe I don’t want to be good at school! That’s all you all want from me, isn’t it? You don’t actually care about me!”
If Remus knew anything, that was teenage angst. Roman was barely thirteen, why did he have so much already?
“I never said you had to be good at school,” Remus replied, gesturing to the bed. Roman didn’t sit down. “I just said you need to stop fighting. School blows. I don’t care if you get good grades or whatever. But it’s even worse without friends, and y’aren’t gonna have any of those if you don’t stop throwing hands and start shaking hands.”
“But I want to hit things!” To prove his point, the kid stomped hard enough that the bed shook.
“Okay, how about this?” Remus took a step closer, spreading his arms wide. “You’re mad? Hit me. You can take it out on me because I’m your brother. You can lose friends. You can’t lose me. We’re stuck together.”
Roman bit his lip and looked away. Remus waited patiently. After clearly thinking it over for a few moments, Roman turned back. His eyes were squinted, but trusting.
“‘Course I do.”
“But what if there’s someone else who really needs to be punched?”
Remus burst out laughing. “Like who?”
Roman shrugged, his foot tracing a circle on the floor. “I dunno. Some people just need it, y’know?”
Remus considered it, still chuckling. Some people did need it. “All right, people who deserve it. Maybe… .” he paused, then it came to him. “Three groups of people, okay?”
Roman nodded, grinning.
“The three R’s,” Remus said, counting them off on his fingers. “Racists, rapists, and Remus. That’s who you can punch, and that’s it. Promise?”
Then Roman’s fist collided with his stomach and Remus ducked away, laughing.
Well, Roman had kept his promise. Remus hadn’t kept his own.
“Son? Do you need anything?”
Remus stared out the kitchen window, trying to avoid looking at the all-new tiling, or his mother, or back at the living room. “N-no,” he said, voice cracking. “I’m good. Thanks, Mom.”
Virgil’s brain wouldn’t shut up. It kept accusing Patton of being a hallucination, or telling him he was back in the room, or insisting that this was just a dream.
Virgil ignored it. Even if this wasn’t real, it was everything he wanted.
It was night now, but his mind hadn’t stopped racing. Just this morning he’d been running to English to turn in a paper before the professor’s office closed, and now he was in bed with the love of—with Patton wrapped around him. Virgil had no clue what time it was. He didn’t want to move to tap his phone and jostle Patton. Still, it was probably late enough that everyone else was asleep.
Patton wasn’t. He was laying very still, his head pressed against Virgil’s chest, but he was definitely not asleep. His breathing was too loud, and his body too stiff.
The first thing Roman had done was call Virgil’s therapist to gloat or something. Virgil had begged him not too, but a Roman with a purpose was unstoppable. So now Virgil had no therapist because Roman got caught up in the moment and fired her.
Throughout all that, Virgil never let go of Patton. He knew his way around the Allred household better than Patton did, but let him guide anyway. They even held hands during dinner, making it awkward to use silverware, but Virgil wouldn’t have it any other way.
It hit him again just how impossible this was. That Patton was here.
Remus had told a very long story about it, but one that was definitely censored. He hadn’t talked much at all about his own time in the cult, which Virgil was very curious about. He hadn’t recognized him until he mentioned rescuing Virgil.
Remus had put all the pieces together, in a way. He was the connection, the one who knew everybody in the story. It felt crazy—the same man who dragged him from the cult was the same man who was friends with Patton’s dad and was the same man who was his roommate’s long lost brother. No, it didn’t just feel crazy. It was absolutely insane.
Patton shifted, drawing his leg down from where it was draped over Virgil’s. Then he snuffled, reached out, and clicked on a light. He lay half on top of Virgil, so that they were chest to chest, his legs on the other side of the bed, his hands resting on Virgil’s head and face.
Virgil lay still as Patton traced a hand over his face. The room was silent and Virgil didn’t dare break it. His eyelashes fluttered as Patton smoothed down his brows with both thumbs in gentle, rubbing motions. He’d already done this to Patton several times today, so he figured it was only fair that he let Patton do what he needed to.
Virgil’s heart seemed to shake in his chest. He still felt not-quite-right. Maybe he didn’t believe this was real, or the despair of losing Patton was still too fresh to have him back already. Somehow, though, he knew that Patton would be able to fill the cracks. The parts of him that felt not-Virgil could be Patton. Without even conscious thought, Virgil’s hands moved in the signs he’d practiced over and over and over.
“I love you.”
He heard a sharp intake of breath. Patton’s hands left from where they were combing his hair out of his eyes. Virgil didn’t feel worried. Well, for a second he did. For a brief second, his stomach dropped and the world ended. Then Patton spoke.
“I love you.”
Virgil froze. That—that was—Patton—?
It sounded just like him. It sounded like his quiet, wheezing laugh, that got higher in pitch instead of louder. It sounded exactly the way his hands felt, rubbing up and down his back during a night-long hug. It sounded like how his smile felt under Virgil’s fingers, the way one side was higher than the other and his lips were slightly cracked in the middle. It sounded like Patton.
Slowly, almost as if scared, Patton’s hands returned to his face, cupping his cheeks tenderly.
Virgil did the same, one hand buried in his hair, the thumb of his other hand pressed into Patton’s cheek while his fingers curled near his ear.
As if unsure, Patton came carefully closer, Virgil’s hand putting light pressure on his head to tilt it down.
The room was quiet, nothing but their steady breathing breaking the silence. The darkness that was all that Virgil could see somehow no longer felt oppressive, more … unexplored. Full of everything, all the disappointments and happiness and anxiety and hurt and new and love.
Cracked in the middle, Patton’s lips pressed gently against his, barely moving at all. His hands tensed, but remained gentle on Virgil’s cheeks. Virgil reciprocated softly, letting Patton lead. The tip of Patton’s nose brushed against his, feather light. Slowly, and with a very soft kissing noise, Patton pulled away, drawing Virgil’s chin up with him.
Virgil’s hand on Patton’s cheek traveled down to his mouth, tracing that smile that was higher on one side.
Then he pulled him back down.
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tybalt’s fists are rated R for Romeo
I have been sitting on this since November of 2016
I gotta b honest I wasn’t expecting to get three rounds out of this
Since the balcony lyrics say “the fathers hate each other” in the present tense there is actually nothing to say that Lord M isn’t just like on a business trip and gonna come back 5 minutes after Coupables just in time for his kid’s funeral like the meme of the guy with the pizzas
we all read or saw one of these plays as teenagers and haven’t shut up about it since
Me: oh I have so many things to worry about
Also me: Tybalt is a Capulet in my head but is he really a Capulet by name? His father is/was Lady Capulet’s brother. And her maiden name is not Capulet, that’s her husband’s name. Oh my god.
Cops will shoot innocent Black kids point blank but Trump’s coup fucks are AT THE DOOR OF THE CAPITOL RIGHT NOW.
They’re inside the Capitol lol that’s great. If you protest at City Hall here you can’t get past the LAPD on the front steps, they will take you the fuck down, never mind if you’re Black just being a person in general but I guess if you’re one of these fascist cunts you can just storm the place and waltz right in while putting the entire Capitol on lockdown.
this is what’s happening.
I’m keeping on CNN and Twitter and this is INSANE.
they’re also literally shooting their guns inside the chamber. what the fuck