#Heavy Is The Head

[sealsapocalypticmusic]

https://sealapocalyptic.bandcamp.com/album/heavy-is-the-head-2

New album, now available for purchase on bandcamp.

[sam-loves-seb]

heavy is the head (that wears the crown) -- part iii

Mickey eyes him cautiously. “What would you want to do?” he asks, grabbing Ian’s mask. “Hm?” Ian turns around so Mickey can tie it for him. Now it’s Mickey’s turn to leave kisses up his neck, stretching up on his tip toes to nip at his jaw. “If we could do anything in the world, right now, before I leave,” he whispers against his skin. “What would you want to do?” Ian takes Mickey’s hands in his own and pulls him close. “I’d want to dance.”

[ read the rest on ao3 | start from the beginning ]

[karalija]

My latest piece is of Miguel O’Hara from Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse.

So my teenager is really into him (and dat ass) so I mentioned to her that we should collaborate on a piece of artwork since she is an artist as well. I’m going to do the line work and she’s going to color it. It’s going to be a fun project and I can impart my finite wisdom upon her lol. But before I do any big piece, I always study the characters facial features and this is the first study of Miguel that I have done. The looser coloring with different textures that the movie employs was so much fun to do since I’m usually pretty precise about my stroke marks.... It was very free-ing 🥰💙❤️🖤🕷🕸

[prncewilhelm]

Wilhelm’s never felt like this before, this buzz, this churning of nerves, and he watches wordlessly as Simon strings together the flowers into a small crown. Once he’s done, he holds it out towards Wilhelm.

“It’s for you,” he says, and he leans up on his knees and places it delicately on Wilhelm’s head.

“For me?”  

“Yeah! You’re the prince!” He says with glee, his eyes glistening in the sunlight. Wilhelm can’t look away, “You always need a crown.”

the incredibly talented _party_prince_ on twitter created this wonderful piece of art for my fic heavy is the head – i can’t believe it! 

[shakespearenews]

One of the most goosebump-inducing moments in the entire show came when Stormzy, flanked by his choir, sang “Crown” from his second studio album Heavy Is the Head.

If that wasn’t enough, while he rapped, two giant crates appeared on stage, as well as Sophie Okonedo, who was dressed in its contents: hand-painted Vivienne Westwood couture, inspired by the late designer’s autumn/winter 1997 collection, which referenced Tudor portraits and, specifically, Elizabeth I.

Then, Okonedo performed the soliloquy from Henry IV Part II which ends with the line, “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown,” and was crowned herself. The sequence formed a powerful collision of past and present, with the actor and musician paying tribute to another fellow Londoner, Shakespeare, despite being separated by four centuries.

[rhosinthorn]

Assuming AO3 recovers by tomorrow, look for a new chapter of Heavy is the Head!

In the meantime I'll just be refreshing the page. And refreshing the page. Instead of editing. Or anything else I ought to be doing.

[celebswearingghost]

Michael Ebenezer Kwadjo Omari Owuo Jr

[coleskingdom]

I was working on a Jay White thing now Evil Adam Cole is back and my brain only wants to focus on these two pictures. Look at his disgust , his pity, and smug smile .

[thingsasbarcodes]

Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. 2x02 - Heavy is the Head

[dopamine-and-dark-thoughts]

Sometimes

You gotta realize

When You're asking

Or even begging

Too much

Of Others

Because unfortunately

Others

Are not as aware

Of Capacity

As You

[sillylittleflower]

The boy made of sunlight

[lingeringscars]

I'm really just thinking about how nat was an outcast and was also the only one still standing against the wilderness until she needed the cop out re javi. Nat was not the chosen leader but was anointed by lottie, and now she has this sense of pride and accomplishment and is fitting in and is seen.

While shauna has also always felt invisible and on the outside because she was only in the circle because of jackie. And jackie never saw her just wanted her to be what jackie wanted. But she started to find herself in the wilderness and fit in and she belongs. She has value. She has a skill. And she's the only one doing it. The one carrying this heavy load. So of course she thinks it should be her and she should be chosen but she ISNT.

[sam-loves-seb]

heavy is the head (that wears the crown) -- part ii

Ian furrows his brow. “He’s not dangerous,” he says slowly. “Not to me.” “Yeah? And what about to everyone else?” Lip stares him down. “For fuck’s sake, Ian, he’s Terry Milkovich’s son.” “Yeah, and we’re Frank Gallagher’s,” Ian snaps back. “You should know better than anyone that people aren’t always just who their fathers are.”

read the full chapter on ao3

[ part i | ko-fi | etc ]

[babushkakoi]

Heavy Is The Head That Chose To Wear The Crown ~ We all saw Gojo's power but never really saw him for himself.

[prncewilhelm]

heavy is the head

At 8 years old, Wilhelm and Simon are inseparable. When Simon abruptly stops showing up to play, Wilhelm just wants his best friend back. 

A 16, Wilhelm is sent to Hillerska to find himself and instead finds Simon – but Simon wants nothing to do with him. 

a slow burn childhood best friends to strangers to somewhat enemies to lovers au 

chapter nine: i think i’ve been having revelations word count: 16.4k (97.1k overall - click here to start from the beginning)  summary: the metallic taste of blood fills his mouth and it’s only then does he realise he’s broken the skin with his teeth, the delicate skin of his lower lip shredded. the open wound stings.

so that’s his answer 

[the-lonewriter]

The night like skylights

@sophierequests, this is for you <3

Later, Sergei thinks of it in fractures, like shattered glass. As if in a muddled flashback, he’d held Vasily in his arms, skin to skin in a warm embrace, a closeness unlike anything else in this world. It fades into the scene of his funeral, standing rigid as a statue while holding back the tears pouring into his eyes, cascading down his cheeks like a flash flood – sweeping away everything in its destructive path.

Later, Sergei thinks of it in fractures, like shattered glass. As if in a muddled flashback, he’d held Vasily in his arms, skin to skin in a warm embrace, a closeness unlike anything else in this world. It fades into the scene of his funeral, standing rigid as a statue while holding back the tears pouring into his eyes, cascading down his cheeks like a flash flood – sweeping away everything in its destructive path.

Goodbye my love. I will see you soon. On the other side. In the next life. Wherever you want us to meet.

This is how this story ends. In misery, heartbreak and grief. 

Are you sure you want to hear about it? 

In spite of the violent conclusion, it was a lifetime of love. Desire. Wanting and needing and getting. Planning a life together, far away from it all. Floating away from the crushing pressure that rested on their shoulders.

Tears of joy. Smiles. Vasily’s love was like sugar, candid and beautifully addictive.

So buckle up for the ride that's life. For the country that’s Ravka. Unforgiving and taking and never giving anything back. An adventure. A lesson in loving and being loved and never giving up despite every odds.

When all was said and done, Sergei had always keyed in to the things that mattered.

Vasily Alexandrovich Lantsov.

His best mistake. 

-

Caryeva was not yet stifling with heat at this time of the year but Sergei could feel the warm air dragging on his tee shirt as he got out of his car. He shouldn't have come here. After Vasily's death things had blurred together. The estate was his now.

He'd rather have his fiancé in his arms than this fucking pompous mansion, he thought, over and over. It made no sense to dwell on loss, and yet Sergei found himself mulling over it at every opportunity. If he had known four years ago that falling for the elder Lantsov prince would lead up to this tragedy, would he have done it anyway? Would he have indulged in all the sweet kisses? In the touches and secret meetings? Would he have said yes when Vasily had asked for his hand in matrimony?

He took a tentative step forward; the gravel cracking underneath the soles of his sneakers. He'd been here once – before he'd known of his dead lover's grand plan to make this house their own. A horse farm. Far away from the dramas of Os Alta. The calm after the storm. 

His legs carried him to the stables on their own. Muscle memory. It was flesh and blood now after half a decade of loving a horseman. There were nickers greeting him, twenty-four curious ears of Vasily's finest race horses turning their heads towards him with their muzzles stretched out from their stalls.

He only had eyes for one.

"Dag?"

He whispered. The stallion lifted his fine head immediately. For a moment, they just stared at each other, blues lost in brown, so much pain lingering in both their souls. Vasily had told him he had saved Dagrenner from abuse when he'd just been a colt. The horse had always been fierce but he'd discovered his love for racing, his gentle nature. 

His hand worked mechanically as he pulled the bolt back to unlock the stall, treading on a mix of soft straw, hay and sawdust.

Only the best for my babies, Vasily's voice echoed in his ears.

Dagrenner scrutinized him as he stretched out his palm, canting his head before ever so carefully sniffing his hand with his velvety nostrils. The tears in his eyes stung the longer he thought about what that gesture meant. He was looking for traces of Vasily’s scent on him. His cologne – still on the bathroom sink at the Grand Palace. Neither he nor Nikolai had had the heart to clean out his room yet.

"I brought you something, Dag."

The horse licked at his fingers as if he understood and Sergei had to suppress a sob. Everything here reminded him of Vasily. He shouldn't have come here.

The urge to come to a closure had been stronger.

If he ever could.

-

"Why do you love me?"

Sergei stares at him as if he’s just questioned him about a particularly difficult aspect of rocket science and alternative fuels. He swallows, his throat parched, dry as a rose well past its prime.

“Because.”

Vasily's laughter, thick and sweet as honey. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend he just ascended to heaven.

“Because?”

His fingers card through the prince's blonde locks, soft and still slightly wet from the shower. The king size bed in his room in the Grand Palace is big enough for both of them and yet Sergei hovers over his boyfriend, straddling him.

“Because you are you. And I wouldn’t want anything else but that.”

Vasily seems to ponder it for a moment but his thoughts are quickly discarded as his guard begins tracing kisses down his neck and he just…

Starts falling into unimaginable bliss.

You are my prince. My king. My forever.

-

Maybe if he could go back to the night he first met Vasily, he wouldn’t have gotten into his Mercedes. Maybe if he hadn’t driven like an idiot, if he had actually paid attention to the road, Marie would still be here. Maybe the tides would have turned and Vasily would be here, too. 

Maybe if he could return to all those moments, maybe then he could tell himself what the hell he was supposed to do now.

He had lost the love of his life twice in the span of six years. For the past five he’d actually thought he’d found peace with the crown prince. The offer for the guard post had been too lucrative to turn down and he’d needed the money after his parents had kicked him out. They still blamed him for Marie’s death. The poor girl. Wherever she was now. Maybe even talking to Vasily about how stupid he was. Sharing stories. Sharing memories. Fleeting kisses. Gentle touches. 

Dagrenner hadn't stirred once since Sergei had wrapped his arms around his muscular neck a while ago, breathing in the distinctive smell of Vasily's shampoo - someone must have washed his fur with it. Had he left a bottle here before he died?

Another breath. So slow. Dragging. How unfair it all was, to be still here after everything. Alone once more. All he had left of his love was his horse. His beloved, kindled horse. 

Vasily must have known something horrible was about to happen to him, otherwise he wouldn't be standing here after reading his goodbye letter with a bank account fuller than it had ever been and an entire stable and house at his disposal. They’d never talked about the possibility of his death until he’d been in the ICU, deathly sick, barely clinging to life fighting the deadly sepsis cursing through his veins after having his lungs torn to pieces by an assassin’s bullet.

They’d talked about it then, or as much as Vasily had been able to and Sergei had cried. Day and night. Those weeks had been the worst of his life and the only thing that kept him going had been the small flicker of a chance his lover had had. All lost. Lost to a traffic jam and a missed dose of a drug.

A future sacrificed to an internal bleeding. 27. He’d been 27. Now he’d be 28. 

An odd thought.

-

Sergei takes the keys. A black horse dangles from the chain. He doesn't look back once. This journey is over. He can’t stay here, not when everything reminds him of Vasily and he had kissed his forehead during his funeral on live television. His fiancé. Once and for all. Nikolai has offered him a commission somewhere outside the city, a quiet desk job. He declined.

This is over. It all ends here. With Vasily’s life.

-

He’d promised to take care of Dagrenner after Vasily had asked him to during a delirious episode in the hospital, with his fever so high they’d thought he’d break a record. They’d both been crying and Sergei would have agreed to anything in that very moment because Vasily has never been more vulnerable around him. It had seemed like he had dropped the mask of the arrogant crown prince for all and everything that remained was a scared boy, afraid to die at that very moment.

“Vasya would have wanted you to have it.”

Sergei fastened the emerald ring to his halter. It glinted in the lowlights of the sun. Somewhere he could hear the faint whinny of another horse.

He was home. He was lost. 

-

Ketterdam is something else, Sergei thinks as he glances down at the glittering nightlights of the city in sheer wonder. A trip to Kerch has been his dream since he’s been but a little boy and nothing else had his boyfriend gifted him. Luxury and bottle after bottle of wine later, so much he would have never been able to afford, they shared the privacy of standing on top of one of the highest buildings hand in hand; bathing in the  magic of the moment.

This is life. Just the two of them. Free from destiny. 

"Do you want to marry me?"

Sergei gasps, taking a step back in shock as Vasily kneels in front of him, a tiny box in hands with a ring inside. An Emerald. The gemstone of the royal family. Tears break his vision. 

"Yes. Yes, I want to marry you, Vasya."

-

Dagrenner had never been calmer under the saddle, walking through the blooming fields of poppy surrounding them. The vast landscape of Novyi Zem was a sight to behold but Sergei couldn't find it in him to focus on it. His thoughts were a mess of scrambled ideas, heartache, longing. Loving was a burden and a blessing all the same, he’d learned. 

After all those years, he still found himself astray in the Ravka. He had left the country months ago, finally making good on the promise to travel the world and he somehow ended up at the other end of it. It was an escape. Fleeing from whatever there was to run from. It was lonely but not. Free but not.  Nothing was ever enough to conquer the unyielding emptiness inside of him.

The sun was rising slowly, ascending from the carved curves of hills in the distance. A surreal view and yet he couldn’t help but feel mesmerized by the blur of purple and orange. A mess of colors, a vision of the future. Bright but hazy. Dark as the night sky with streaks of sunlight breaking through.

"In the next life, we'll do it all together."

He stroked the stallion’s silky black mane, longer now than Vasily would have ever let it grow but times changed. Seasons passed. He’s been dead for almost half a year now. His voice grew all soft, placid, quiet, recalling the funeral. His last kiss. His promise. In the next life. Not now. Ever?

Sergei’s gaze traced over the blossoms. Cherry red. Blood like. A sea of scarlet so far he was sure it could almost fit the valley of his tears he’d shed since it happened. 

Hope is dangerous.

He’d hoped and begged and prayed and now that it was all over, what had it been for?

They’d done everything the doctors said, had tried every drug and miracle treatment and it hadn’t even mattered in the end. But it was okay. It got to be okay. He knew. He knew because- 

Someday he would be with him. Forever. Nothing could part them again. 

"You, me and Vasily."

Many thanks to @camilleisback and @udovaintomyheart for beta reading this angst fest <3