#I was at work and identified a date on some clothing that was in roman numerals and everyone was mystified I could read them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maybedefinitely404 · 4 years ago

Text

Day 22: Dukexiety

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 22: When you close your eyes, you can see what your soulmate sees.

Content warnings: Sleep deprivation/what could be considered insomnia, food mentions, energy drinks, parental abuse, drunk abuse, mentioned anxiety attack, physical altercation, dissociating, school security, maybe PTSD?

Word count: 3.5k

For as long as Remus could remember, he’d hated sleeping.

At some points it got so bad he couldn’t function. Falling asleep at the breakfast table before violently jolting awake, asking his mother or teacher to repeat things four or five times until it finally clicked that they were asking if he was okay, staring off into space for what felt like a couple minutes, only to learn that it was several hours later and he’d missed dinner. Roman had gotten used to his twin’s habit of losing sleep, and although it never ceased to worry him, it became more of a given thing that if Remus forgot to do his chores, it was (most of the time) an accident. He’d walk into their shared room and snap his fingers in his face a few times, ask if he wanted dinner until Remus finally understood, and then help him stumble downstairs.

It was also a given in their family that if Remus ever did fall asleep, whether in his own bed, or on the couch, or outside in the backyard, never wake him up. He so rarely got any rest whatsoever that the seldom times he was able to conk out, it wasn’t uncommon for him to be down for over twenty hours. In those cases, their parents would silently close all the curtains and shut off the lights if he was indoors, or cover him with their deck umbrella and lay a blanket on him if he was outside, and make it law to not disturb him. He’d miss school, it was fine, just let him sleep.

And it was all because of his soulmate.

Because it wasn’t so much the act of sleeping in itself that he hated. No, the times he actually got deeper than the REM phase, when he was actually out, it was amazing. Blissful and relaxing and made him so hyper aware when he finally woke up. Like the colors were no longer dim and words made sense the first time they were uttered. It was the actual act of falling asleep, when he had to close his eyes but was still fully conscious, that he hated.

He didn’t have a proper idea who his soulmate actually was. Every time he closed his eyes and their vision fused, when he saw everything his soulmate saw from their perspective, they never seemed to be around a mirror. That would have made life a whole lot easier, if he only knew what it was. Then at least he’d have a chance to save them.

It started when he was little, when their soulbond was just forming. Back then, it was still shaky and glitchy, sometimes showing what his soulmate was seeing, and sometimes just showing the blackness of his eyelid. He saw grassy fields of a park that he couldn’t identify, a dimly lit bedroom with toys scattered on the floor, the night sky from a window that wasn’t his. But then it morphed; playgrounds becoming littered liquor bottles on the floor of an unkempt living room, dark lego-covered carpet evolving from something once played upon to something his soulmate was thrown harshly onto, the view of the stars suddenly filled with the face of a screaming man. The man.

Remus had no idea who the man was, but he knew his face well. He knew every fury filled expression on his drunken face, the way his nose wrinkled in disgust, how his mouth twisted and contorted as he screamed. Their ears weren’t connected, so he couldn’t tell what the man was saying, but it was punctuated with flying fists and hands gripping collars, thrown beer bottles and pushes to the ground. It didn’t happen every time he closed his eyes, but it had happened enough for Remus to suddenly jerk awake the moment their vision was shared out of pure panic. It happened enough that if his mother reached up to adjust his hoodie strings, he’d flinch violently, or when Roman snuck up on him just a little too quietly, his hands would fly over his face to protect himself. He wouldn’t develop bruises, or take the undoubtedly cruel things the man said to heart, but he was still affected. If he tried to sleep, and the man appeared in his sight, he’d bury his face in his arms, eyes wide and staring at his pajama pants, knowing what was happening to his soulmate however far away they were and he was unable to do anything to help. At least he could open his eyes and be free of the horrors. It was only in the rare instances when he’d close his eyes and his soulmate was already asleep, revealing nothing but the black void behind his eyelids, that he could actually sleep.

When Roman awoke that morning, he blinked his bleary eyes and turned to the other bed in the room, sighing when Remus’ bloodshot eyes met his from where he was curled against the wall, blanket wrapped around his shoulders. The bags under his eyes had worsened more than they had before. If he was counting right, this was the third night in a row that Remus hadn’t slept at all. The last time he’d slept had been days ago, and only been for a couple hours before he awoke with a sob.

“Are you okay?”

In a move unlike Remus, he shook his head no. He rarely admitted that he wasn’t fine, but it was getting to that point of almost mania where his eyes glazed over every couple minutes, hands constantly shaking, unaware of anything around him.

“You probably shouldn’t go to school today.”

“It’s f’ne,” Remus mumbled, hitting his head into his arms, “T’st in Engl’sh. Gotta go.”

“It’s not like you to care about school.” Roman threw his blankets off, noticing the way Remus flinched at the sudden movement, and began to change out of his pajamas.

“S��nior year. Failing Engl’sh. Ac’demic probation.”

“Ah,” Roman hummed, gingerly placing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie in front of Remus. “Is English your first class?”

“Mmhm.”

“How about I drive you back home after your test?”

Remus had zoned out, staring blankly at the clothes in front of him, so Roman took that as a yes. As much as he hated letting Remus go to school when he was like this, he knew that if he didn’t drive him, Remus would find a way to go by himself and probably accidentally walk into the highway or something.

By the time Remus zoned back into the real world, Roman had left the room. Lethargically, he changed into the lazy outfit Roman had placed in front of him and pushed himself off the bed, debating if he had the energy to brush his teeth or not. Just as he was considering just pouring the toothpaste into his mouth and gurgling it, Roman walked into the bathroom with an open can of Monster.

“I have a stash in the basement so Mom doesn’t find them. Keep it down low and don’t take them, or I’ll cut you off.”

Remus didn’t even realize he’d grabbed the energy drink until he had half finished chugging the can, almost sighing at the immediate burst of adrenaline.

“Hell yeah.”

“Get ready and be downstairs in twenty minutes or I’m leaving without you.”

It was an empty threat, they both knew it, but Remus rolled his eyes anyways and set about to brushing his teeth, pulling out his phone to check the time. There was a barrage of missed messages and notifications that he hadn’t been able to care about after sleepless night number two, so he sent back explanations to the people who’d questioned his disappearance and gotten up to date on what he’d missed on social media.

He stumbled downstairs as Roman was opening the front door, offering him a bagel silently. Their parents were both at work already, so they locked the door and got into Roman’s car. Remus wasn’t allowed to get his license, not when there was a solid chance that he’d fall asleep behind the wheel.

“I’m driving you home after English, capiche?”

“I’d probably skip after the test either way.” His hands twitched against his bouncing legs, still unbearably exhausted but now with his heart beating at a rabbit’s pace.

“You are not walking.”

“Yes, mom.”

Roman let out a tired sigh, leaving the drive quiet except for the soft sounds of the radio hosts. When they pulled into the school lot, minutes before the bell, Remus was getting out of the car before it had stopped all the way.

“Meet me in the main office after first period, dipshit!” Roman yelled as Remus disappeared into the building, flipping him off and letting the doors close behind him just as Roman shouted something else. Whatever.

While caffeine was perhaps his most helpful crutch in this nightmare that was living, it had side effects. As soon as his test paper was down before him, his mind completely blanked of every word he’d ever heard in his entire life. Though, in all fairness, that also probably would have happened without the energy drink. He was so used to barely sleeping that it had become a norm to him, but it wasn’t a healthy way to live, so even if he’d learned how to function on twelve hours of sleep a week (on good weeks), his brain hadn’t quite caught on.

The instructions for the test wavered and throbbed before him as he blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to banish the blurriness from his sight. He could barely hold a pencil in his shaking hands, his thoughts somehow flying at the speed of light and equally as stuck and lethargic. Pretty much how he felt.

“Remus?”

His head flew up, his unruly bangs flopping into his eye. Since when did he need a haircut?

“I’ve been calling you for a few minutes now,” His teacher said quietly. Although they were trying to hide it, he could see his classmates glancing at him from the corners of their eyes, “Are you alright?”

As if perfectly on cue, he could feel his mind zoning out again, vision going blurry as his thoughts disappeared. Vaguely, he could feel a gentle hand on his arm slowly lifting him to his feet, a voice giving a foggy command to the class, and then he was led out of the room, the painfully bright hallway lights blinding him. It also brought him back to the present, ever so slightly, as he was taken down the hall to the main office. In the back of his mind, he was grateful for it, because this was where Roman would pick him up. Did this mean he was going home now? Was the test over?

“-last time he slept. He keeps zoning out. I think it would be best if he went home and retook the test another time.”

Hm? He blinked hard, until his eyeballs hurt, to try and get the gears in his brain to start working again. The teacher was talking to one of the secretaries, and they both kept looking to him in concern.

“Can I call someone to come pick you up, Remus?” The secretary asked, already flipping through her contacts book.

“His brother also goes here, and can probably take him home. Would be easiest,” The teacher cut in before the question had even fully settled in Remus’ mind, and he internally cheered. At least that was settled. And by the sounds of it, he could do his test another time, which was a huge weight off his shoulders. He didn’t have, nor desire, Roman’s perfect grades, but he at least wanted to graduate.

“I’ll get him excused from class. Thanks for bringing him by.”

Remus blinked again and realized the teacher had left, leaving him wavering in the middle of the office in front of a very worried secretary. She was saying something, her mouth was moving, but the words didn’t compute. However when she gestured to a dimly lit backroom, he got the message and stumbled in, nearly collapsing on the small cot in relief. The door was closed nearly all the way, leaving just a crack of light shining through.

As much as a nice break the darkness was, it just made his eyes want to close farther, and took twice as much effort to keep them open. Pulling at the skin in the corners of his eyes, he reluctantly sat up and focused his stares on the miscellaneous anatomy posters on the wall.

That was when his gaze fell to the hunched form in the corner, staring at him with dark glistening eyes, and he nearly fell off the cot.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” He yelped. The figure flinched back, curling more into the chair they were perched on.

“Sorry. She told you I was here when she brought you in. Didn’t you hear her?”

“In all honesty, no. I didn’t.” The two kept at their staring contest for longer than necessary, before Remus decided to break the silence, “So, what are you in for?”

For a good minute, he didn’t think he would get a response. The guy kept staring back at him, like he was trying to size him up, before he muttered, “Anxiety attack in class. Teacher forbade me from staying here.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Yeah, well…” He finally broke the eye contact, staring down the nails he was picking at. “What about you?”

“Haven’t slept in three days, I think. Maybe four? I was all zone-y during a test so the teacher said I had to go home.”

“Damn teachers and their sudden respect for mental health.”

Remus snorted, resting his head against the wall. “Why’d you have a panic attack?”

“None of your business. Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

“Soulmate stuff,” Remus answered easily, not put off by the other’s suddenly annoyed tone. It wasn’t common to be unable to sleep due to a soulmate issue, whether it was trauma or another issue entirely, but it wasn’t unheard of either.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it sucks. Still don’t wanna tell me why yo-?”

“No.”

“I accept your rejection and will now take my leave to cry in the bathroom stall.”

The other boy actually snickered, a reaction Remus had been wishing for but hadn’t dreamed to expect. He waved a hand dismissively. “I hope you have a good cry.”

“Aw, thanks,” Remus cooed, leaning forward on his hands. “I haven’t seen you around. What’s your name?”

“Virgil. Only moved here recently.”

“How recent is recent?”

“Couple months.”

“Ah. I’m Remus. School disgrace, nice to meet you.”

“Oh boy, befriending the wrong crowd already.”

“I would be offended if you weren’t correct,” Remus grinned, hitting his baggy eyes a couple times with his fists.

“Virgil?” The nurse poked her head through the door, squinting in the low light, “Your dad’s here.”

Virgil stiffened immediately, casting Remus a look he didn’t quite understand before getting to his feet, pulling his bag onto his shoulder. She smiled at him and opened the door wider, gesturing for him to exit.

That’s when Remus saw him.

Him.

It took him a moment to understand that yes, his eyes were open, and yes, this was the man from his shared vision with his soulmate. 100% him, the same dark eyes and half grimace, except now wearing a pristine three piece suit that very much didn’t match his memories of him. He was signing a sheet, presumably to ensure that he’d picked Virgil up, and didn’t notice as his son stood frozen in the doorway, watching him with fear filled eyes.

Remus jumped to his feet, stepping next to Virgil.

“That’s your dad?”

Virgil let out a choked hum, one that was probably meant to be an affirmation, before gripping the strap of his backpack. “Why?”

“I’m your soulmate,” He said with absolutely zero tact, and the way Virgil’s face paled was enough indication that he’d understood. He gently laid a hand on the shorter’s shoulder, a silent indication to ‘stay here’, and marched towards the man at the desk.

“Can I just say one thing?”

He looked up, surprised, and gave Remus a once over. His stomach twisted, being under the man’s gaze, the person who had made it impossible for him to sleep, now in front of him. Eye to eye, he appreciated, because in all the times he’d seen him second hand, he’d towered over him. Now they were the same height, and that brought a sick joy to him.

“I suppose?” The man asked, voice as calm and professional as his suit, looking to the secretary with an almost laugh.

“With all due respect,” Remus snarled, hand curling into a fist, “Fuck you.”

And then he hit him. Hard. All his pent up anger, years of watching his soulmate get beaten to a pulp, losing sleep until he was a zombie of himself, panic attacks of pure worry and fear, flew out in one punch, hitting him square in the nose and sending him stumbling back.

The secretary yelled something he didn’t hear over the blood pounding in his ears, and suddenly two arms were wrapped around his waist.

“Let me the fuck at him!” Remus screamed, fighting against the grip with everything he had. The man was on the ground, staring up at him with equal parts horror and pure rage, dabbing at his bleeding nose.

“Remus, breathe. Just calm down, you’re okay. Just breathe,” A shockingly calm voice whispered in his ear, and he immediately sagged against his brother, the restraining arms becoming supporting.

“That’s him,” He said weakly, pulling away so he could turn to Roman, “That’s him.”

Roman furrowed his brow for a moment, looking between his twin and the man on the floor, before his eyes widened. He knew all of Remus’ stories, being the one a young Remus would come to when the visions got so bad he’d break down, listening to his rants about the abusive guardian of his soulmate.

“Call the police,” He deadpanned, turning his glare to the secretary.

“I don’t think Remus-”

“Not for Remus, for him!”

A gasping breath caught everyone’s attention and the focus shifted to the boy still standing on the doorway, his expression one of absolute terror, staring at his father. Remus broke completely away from his brother to cross to him just as the office door slammed open, two security guards-- the secretary had probably called them at the first punch-- taking in the scene before them. He could vaguely hear Roman explaining the situation, glad that he didn’t have to justify anything because he would most likely just end up throwing hands again.

Virgil watched him approach, almost cowering in on himself, as Remus extended a hand.

“Let’s get out of here. You’re not going back with him.”

It took the shorter boy a second, a nervous glance between his earnest eyes and the outstretched hand, before he took it in his own. Remus let a relieved smile take over, interlocking their fingers and leading him past the scene. As he passed a still talking Roman, he swiped the car keys from his pocket with no one any wiser.

“He’ll notice eventually,” He stage-whispered as they exited the large double doors, making their way through the parking lot. “I can’t drive, but we might as well sit in the car until Roman’s done.”

Virgil was quiet, allowing himself to be led through the rows of parked cars before Remus stopped, unlocking the doors and sliding into the backseat, pulling his soulmate in after him. There was a blanket tucked under the front seat and he yanked it out, unfolding it as well he could in the cramped space.

The shorter boy was shaking violently, trying to hide his hands and now bleeding fingernails in his hoodie sleeves. Remus, for maybe the first time in his life, opened his arms for a hug, and was genuinely shocked by how fast Virgil lunged into his grip. He didn’t have many soft spots, but he could make one for his soulmate.

“You’re not going back to him. Over my dead body. We’ll figure everything out later, but for now-” He shuffled backwards, leaning his head on the window so Virgil was basically laying on top of him, “I don’t know about you, but I have about a million hours of sleep to catch up on, so I’m going to catch a cat nap before Roman’s done.”

“It’s been a long day.”

“And it’s not even noon,” Remus snickered, maneuvering the blanket so it covered them both.

He closed his eyes, and for a split second, all he saw was himself, from a lower angle. It was disorienting to say the least, but before he could comment, the world was engulfed in black as Virgil closed his eyes as well.

And for the first time in… who knows how long, Remus wasn’t afraid to sleep.

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #dukexiety #creativitwins #remus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides #sanderssides #sanderssidesfanfiction #ts soulmate au

319 notes · View notes

qqueenofhades · 3 years ago

Note

i noticed that you like to write a lot of heartrender husbands from fedyor’s side of things (which makes sense cause fedyor is fun!) but i have to ask in the modern au, what was ivan thinking the whole first two months 😂??

like was he carrying the joke the whole time? did his brain short circuit around fedyor?? was he worried about what fedyor was thinking or did he just think he was shy? Did he think the first date went well ☠️?

This was supposed to be lighthearted, but then there came Feels. So here is Ivan's backstory in Phantomverse. Content warning for mentions of an abusive relationship, familial homophobia, implied sexual manipulation, and dark themes. Nothing graphic, but duly noted.

Also on AO3.

Brighton Beach, 2015

It’s safe to say that Ivan Ivanovich Sakharov Kaminsky did not ever, not in a thousand years, not in a million, imagine himself ending up here. At one point, even Moscow would have been a stretch, and that was obviously still Russia. The fact that he would be walking down a sidewalk in Brooklyn, under the elevated tracks of the Q train that rattles and bangs overhead, on a cool spring morning to do his shopping at the Brighton Bazaar – in, should this somehow not be clear, America – and then returning to his apartment and his husband is, quite frankly, something out of an alternate-Ivan timeline. One from the Twilight Zone, or whatever they are calling that kind of thing these days. Sometimes when he thinks about it too much, he gets afraid that it is in fact a dream. That no matter how long it has gone on and how good it has been, it will suddenly and inevitably end. After all, he is Russian. Sunny optimism has never been accused of forming a notable facet of the national character, and Ivan himself would never be described as the hopeful type. But God, for this, he does.

He reaches the bazaar – a bustling blue-awninged international supermarket with three-quarters of its signs written in Cyrillic – and steps inside, grabbing a basket and pulling a scrap of paper from his pocket to double-check his list. He knows what he needs, but he likes the tidiness of writing it down, and he proceeds into the crammed aisles, passing customers speaking English, Russian, Ukrainian, Uzbek, Yiddish, and several other languages he can’t identify by ear. Brighton Bazaar stocks all the Russian products necessary to satisfy even a homesick expat like Ivan, and he enjoys being able to navigate the store with ease and read all the labels at first glance. He can get by in English, if he’s pressed, but it’s easier to leave it to Fedyor, who is fluent, and in here, he can conjure the illusion that he will walk out on the street and be back where he truly belongs. He likes Brighton Beach a great deal more than he ever expected to, but it’s no replacement for the real thing.

Ivan collects his purchases, along with a few special extras, and takes them to the counter. He is greeted in Russian by the checkout clerk, who knows him well for always turning up at the same time every Saturday morning with military precision. As Semyon Pavlovich Kuznetsov (who is called Syoma by his friends, but he has not clearly stated that Ivan can use the diminutive and therefore Ivan does not) scans his items, Ivan consents to exchange a few gruff words of small talk on the weather (nice) how the Mets did last night (badly) and the old guy who apparently died of a heart attack two days ago in the Russian bathhouse on Neck Road (making Ivan glad he did not choose said day to attend). It’s this weird Russian-American hybrid of things, since Semyon is the teenage grandson of a Red Army veteran who fought at Stalingrad, but he was born and raised in Brooklyn, loves American video games, and is fully fluent in American pop culture. It startles Ivan to realize that while this kid speaks Russian perfectly, he has probably never done so in Russia outside of a few visits back to the old country when his family can afford it. That is a very personal question to ask one’s grocery clerk, however, and he does not.

And then there’s that other thing, which he would definitely never be asked in Russia, especially not these days. Semyon hits the button to tally up Ivan’s bill, informs him that he owes $56.77, and then says cheerily, “How is Fedyor?”

Ivan concentrates on digging the exact amount out of his wallet in cash, since he never had a credit card when he lived in Russia and is still somewhat leery of them. “Fedyor is fine,” he says curtly, in the tone that makes it clear that he understands this question is an expected part of an American social interaction, but that is all the information he is willing to venture. “Here is the money.”

Semyon accepts it, counts it into the till, and rings the transaction through, handing Ivan his bags and his receipt. “Have a nice day, Mr. Kaminsky!”

“Thank you, Semyon Pavlovich.” Ivan accepts his purchases and leaves the store, taking a deep breath of the salty, sunny air and the wind whipping off the seafront. It’s still a little too early in the year for there to be many bathers on the beach, though there are always people strolling on the boardwalk. It’s only a few minutes to the apartment, which is just off Brighton Beach Avenue and overlooks the Atlantic Ocean. Ivan buzzes into the old brownstone, takes the stairs to the third floor, and as he unlocks his front door and lets himself in, wonders, yet again, at the sheer impossibility that his life has led him here.

Ivan is the third of five boys, but he was the one who was named after his father. It was not, of course, because they had some special hope for him to be the great inheritor of paternal pride, but a simple matter of logistics. His oldest brother, Roman, was named after their paternal grandfather. His second-oldest brother, Oleg, was named after their maternal grandfather. When Ivan arrived, only then was it proper to name him after Ivan Romanovich, Ivan Sakharov senior, since rushing too fast to glorify yourself as an individual, rather than your community and your ancestors, could be seen as running contrary to the collectivist ideals of the great Soviet Union. By the time his two younger brothers arrived, his parents were hard pressed for ideas; Yuri (for Gagarin) and Vladimir (originally for Lenin, though that has obviously acquired a different connotation those days) were clearly obtained by putting the names of national heroes into a hat and picking.

Five children was quite a lot for a Soviet-generation family, and Ivan doesn’t know anyone else his age with that number of siblings. After all, more children meant more time standing in line at Municipal Grocery Store #5 for food that has to be shared among more mouths, more worries about how to clothe and educate and accommodate them, more chances for one of them to go terminally astray and betray the family honor. Ivan wonders sometimes if his parents only really wanted Roman and Oleg, but decided to keep going as a matter of gaming the system, so much as it was able to be gamed.

By the early 1980s, the aging, decrepit, dying USSR, run by aging, decrepit, dying men, was in the grip of a demographic crisis so extreme that it was a contest between worrying about which one would end them faster: crazy President Reagan with his finger on the nuclear button, or the whole country just keeling over of old age. The idea of what a family even meant had been under constant challenge since the heady days of the Bolsheviks, who denounced marriage as a construct of bourgeoisie oppression and preached for free love and sexual liberation. Then it went hard back in the other direction during Stalin and the Great Patriotic War, holding up the traditional nuclear family as the highest ideal and offering rewards to mothers who had multiple children. Then it lurched away again. Abortion and contraception had been legal and freely available since the days of the revolution and most Soviet women made good use of them. Plus, of course, the obvious difficulties of maintaining a sizeable family when it was increasingly impossible to obtain even basic supplies and foodstuffs. It just made no sense.

Desperately trying to counter this slide toward self-inflicted obsolescence, the late-stage USSR came up with a number of incentives to boost the birth rate by any means necessary. They allowed mothers to refuse to list fathers on the birth certificate, to avoid social shame if he was married, foreign, a drunkard, or otherwise unsuitable, and beefed up programs to support single women with children. They also went back to the old-school plan of granting extra stipends, housing privileges, and state recognition to families that had more than two children, and Ivan himself was the third of his. It doesn’t take a genius to deduce that he was almost surely conceived for the tax benefits.

Not, that is, that it didn’t work. When Ivan was born in 1984, the family lived in a tiny apartment on the tenth floor of a building with no elevator (or rather it did have an elevator, but it was always broken), crowded in with three single young men who were at the very bottom of the list for being assigned housing. By the time his youngest brother, Vladimir, was born in 1987, they had been moved to a small house of their own on the outskirts of Krasnoyarsk, not far from the bus that his father took two hours a day out to the mine. The cynical old joke in the USSR was that the people pretended to work and the government pretended to pay them, though in Ivan Romanovich’s case, the work was backbreakingly real, even if the money wasn’t. He would come home exhausted and filthy after a sixteen-hour shift and yell at Galina Sakharova to feed him, bark at his sons, and then fall asleep in front of the television, only to get up the next morning and shuffle off again.

Ivan Ivanovich has spent a lot of time after he left home trying to understand what that kind of life would do to a man, mostly because he didn’t do it while he was there. Of course he didn’t. He was a child, and it was simply what he was used to, the only way the world could possibly be. On the night of December 26, 1991, as Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev signed the United Soviet Socialist Republics out of existence with a single stroke of the pen, Ivan remembers his father crying and swearing and throwing things at the wall, the heavy yellow-glass ashtray that always seemed unbreakable, perched on the kitchen table to collect the detritus of his constant cigarettes, smashed to bits just like their country, their sense of self, their security. It wasn’t as if life in the USSR was so wonderful. It was just the only thing they knew. Beyond that, there was nothing but the terror of the utterly unknown.

At any rate, the world didn’t end. The oligarchs moved in and began snapping up Russia’s newly privatized economy. Ivan Ivanovich, of course, had no goddamn clue about this either, aside from overhearing his father curse about it some more. He trudged through secondary school and left at eighteen, without even trying to proceed onto university. Those weren’t for someone like him, he knew that. Instead he got a job at the ever-troubled Krasnoyarsk Aluminum Plant, and went straight to work on the factory floor.

It was around this time that the one disruption in his otherwise humdrum life, the one thing that stopped him from just settling into the same miserable existence as his father and going on like that forever, became too impossible to ignore. And that was the fact that no matter how much Ivan tried to squash it down, push it aside, or otherwise pretend it didn’t exist, he could no longer deny the fact that he was attracted to men, and only to men. He bought some of the cheap porn magazines from the tabak, tried to flip through them and get something out of the girls in heavy eyeliner and bleached-blonde hair, spilling out of their scanty lingerie, and just… didn’t. He wasn’t even interested enough to try a conversation with a real flesh-and-blood woman (not that Ivan had ever gotten through a conversation with another human being, especially a woman, without disaster) and see if it was different in the flesh. Nothing about the experience, even imagining it, appealed to him at all. But men…

He knew it wasn’t right, just because – well, you knew that sort of thing, you didn’t have to ask about it, you didn’t let on. But nonetheless, something, somehow, must have given him away, because one evening after the end of his shift, one of his coworkers cornered him in the back. His name was Konstantin and he was a few years older, big and bluff and constantly smelling like machine oil. He stood there, folded his arms, and said, “I will give you five hundred rubles if you suck my dick, Ivan Ivanovich.”

Ivan didn’t know how to answer. He had never spoken to Konstantin about anything aside from the job. He didn’t like him, he wasn’t attracted to him, and he didn’t want his filthy fucking rubles. He wanted to go home and take a shower.

And yet. He wanted to know. So when he went home, it was with five hundred rubles in his pocket, and a strange, indefinable feeling of something both excitement and shame. He looked it up later and found that it was barely seven American dollars, barely enough to buy a sandwich in this place he now lives. Then after that it became – not a relationship, not exactly. But he had done it once and Konstantin knew that he was at least theoretically willing, and there was no getting away from it now. Soon enough it became something of a regular thing, and then Konstantin wanted to try other stuff and not always pay, and if Ivan ever protested, Konstantin would threaten to get him fired from the factory or tell his family what they were doing. Ivan knew that he couldn’t let this happen, and besides, this was a relationship, or so he would tell himself. It was rough and it wasn’t very enjoyable and he didn’t like the way it made him feel, but it was probably the best he was going to get, here in this place, so he had no choice but to put up with it.

Until one night when his older brother came to pick him up from work, which he didn’t usually do. Something about it set off Ivan’s alarm bells, but he got into Roman’s battered old Zhiguli anyway. They didn’t head back toward the house. Instead they headed for the country, the narrow, crumbling road that led into the vast forests of Krasnoyarsk Krai. The city was often voted one of the most beautiful in Siberia, surviving even its long periods of grim industrialization with something of its soul intact. It wasn’t as cold as Yakutsk or Oymyakon, the places where it stayed at sixty below zero all winter long and boiling water froze when you tossed it out the window. Winters only got down to a few degrees below, and in Russia, that was par for the course. Ivan loved his hometown, and he was used to the outdoors. He was a sportsman, a natural athlete. He played hockey, bandy, football, rugby, and basketball (surprisingly popular in Russia). He swam and boxed. He was tall and tough and muscled and most people never bothered him. But when the car coasted to a halt in the middle of nowhere and Roman turned off the headlights, he was still terrified.

His brother said, “I hear you’re doing things, Vanya.”

Ivan didn’t answer.

“I hear you’re doing things with men.” Roman reached over and grabbed him violently by the shoulders, pinning him against the seat. “Disgusting things. I will not have one of those in the family, do you hear me? Do you hear me? If I find out that you have done it ever again, even once, I will make sure that you pay the price. Are you listening? Say that you understand.”

“Yes,” Ivan said. “I understand.”

What he really understood was that he was going to leave, when he had barely been out of Krasnoyarsk Krai in his life. Going as far as Novosibirsk for a shopping trip was unusual, and once, in school, he went to Georgia, which was the first time he had left the country (though of course, it used to be the country). But he knew that he could not stay here anymore, and in a moment of welcome serendipity, that was also when his conscription notice arrived. At the time, every Russian man over the age of eighteen had to serve two obligatory years in the armed forces (though it has since been lowered to one, of which Ivan does not necessarily approve), and his number had come up. So he quit his job, did not say goodbye to Konstantin or tell him where he was going, packed his few boxes of things, and moved four thousand kilometers and four time zones west to Moscow.

Ivan arrived in the capital trying not to present himself as a wet-behind-the-ears country boy, to act like he knew what he was doing, to show he was much tougher and meaner than any of these spoiled, pampered little children whining about how hard it was when they trudged into headquarters and presented their army notices. In that, he had a genuine advantage; he had worked hard for his whole life, he had already been through whatever could possibly endured with a father and four brothers, and he found the strict routines, harsh discipline, and predictable tasks of the army comforting. Everyone was scared of him, he didn’t need to try (though he did), and that was also gratifying. He worked hard and pleased his commanders, who tried to entice him to stay on as a full-time professional serviceman. There were many opportunities for a man of his talents, and more money than Ivan had ever dreamed of. As for his personal life, as long as he was scrupulously discreet and kept turning in good results, they would not trouble to enquire too closely. That was already better than from what he had expected with Konstantin. Once again, he thought it would be the best he got.

That was where, therefore, he met Aleksander Ilyich Morozov.

Morozov was his opposite in many ways – rich, well-spoken, well-educated, the son of a legendary KGB commander and the inheritor of comfort and privilege even in the lean last days of the USSR. He was about Ivan’s own age, but he had a self-possession and a gravitas that made him seem older. He had started training for a career in the Russian security services practically from childhood, and he had pegged Ivan as a particularly promising recruit. “You should come with me,” he said. “We would find an excellent career for you.”

Ivan was never sure how to respond when Morozov started talking like this. He admired the man and was admittedly attracted to him – not just the dark, elegant handsomeness, but the manifest air of being a person who mattered, who made the rest of the world sit up and take notice and play by his rules – and while he knew that Morozov was ruthless, he wasn’t bothered by that and was willing to do the same when it was called for. Ivan didn’t see the world as some nice candy fairy place where good deeds were always rewarded and violence was always wrong, not least since he knew full well that it didn’t work like that. He didn’t have time for these idiots who thought they would get out there and hold hands and change the world with the power of sunshine and kisses or whatever it was. He didn’t.

Then there was one night when Morozov was at Ivan’s apartment, and they had been drinking and making big plans for ruling the world behind the scenes, and Ivan forgot himself entirely and leaned over the table and kissed him. He tried to pull back almost at once, but Morozov didn’t resist. In fact, he leaned in and put a hand behind Ivan’s head and kept him there, and in that moment, Ivan knew that while this might not be personally objectionable for Sasha (his sexuality was undiscussed but evidently fluid), that wasn’t the reason he was going along with it. It was because he knew instinctively that it was a perfect way to control Ivan, to harness his attraction and his weakness and his willingness to go along with whatever Sasha wanted, and in that, despite all the big plans they had put together and the way Ivan had dreamed of his life changing, it was just Konstantin all over again, and Ivan was straight back at the factory on his knees, small and cornered and powerless. It was visceral and it was wrong and it wasn’t the best he would ever do and he wasn’t, he wasn’t taking that.

They pulled back and Sasha made an enquiring noise, like he wanted to know if Ivan was interested in sealing the deal, and instead Ivan ordered him to leave right now, get out. That was the end of their friendship; they never spoke to each other again, and when his third year in the army ran out, which he had already taken voluntarily, he left. He got a job at some Moscow industrial plant and it was there, through the friend of a friend, he met Nadia Zhabina. And it turned out that she was queer (the first time he had ever heard the word spoken in a good way, something he wanted to be, something he didn’t mind accepting, rather than as an attack), and it turned out after that that she had a friend she wanted him to meet, only it clearly meant that she thought they should go out. Like. On a date.

Ivan flatly shut her down. He did not date, he did not want to date, he did not think he would be good at dating, he did not want to meet some pansy city boy from Nizhny Novgorod who he would immediately dislike, and he was not going to do it, the end. Only Nadia really seemed disappointed, and maybe it was not the worst thing to try a little. This would backfire terribly, he would get over it, and move on with his life.

In Ivan’s opinion, the first date with Fedyor Mikhailovich Kaminsky was, at least on his own behalf, a modest success. He was unavoidably late, thanks to the bus running behind schedule, but he introduced himself, his hobbies, and made it clear what sort of person he was and what he was interested in. He even sent a polite follow-up text with an invitation to meet again. There. No questions, no confusion, everything very straightforward and clear. Nothing to complain about. That was how you did a date, yes?

It turned out, however, that Fedyor Mikhailovich was either very reticent, or perhaps confused, or maybe he did not even know that they had been on a date and Nadia had not clearly explained to him. Burned by his experiences at home, knowing how easily word could get out to the wrong people, Ivan did not want to bring up the subject explicitly, but he had to admit to a considerable confusion. Maybe Fedyor actually liked to just mince around Moscow city parks together, like something out of a Tolstoy novel, or to sit on his couch and watch bad American action movies together. (Later, Ivan learned that Die Hard is actually something of a cult classic, but it’s still slightly lost on him.) That wasn’t bad, because Ivan – to his great bafflement and wariness – liked spending time with him. Fedyor wasn’t like him at all, but they clicked nonetheless. He was the exact kind of idealistic activist that Ivan had long disdained, but it was different with him. When Fedya talked, he liked to listen, to dream about a world that really did work that way. It didn’t, but it felt closer.

Besides that, he was cute. He was well-put together. He was charming and vivacious and could talk to people that they met, while Ivan stood scowling with his hands in his pockets and wondered how long this was going to take. He really desperately wanted to kiss Fedya (and for that matter, do other things to him), and he found himself thinking about it a lot. But what if it was like with Sasha again, and it was either Ivan opportunistically taking it for himself, or Fedya selfishly trying to keep him there, to use him for his own purposes? Maybe Fedya was the idiot. He had to know they were together, right? Or were they together? Ivan suddenly wasn’t sure. Damn it! Why didn’t Fedyor subscribe to the school of just being clear about things? Ivan himself had nothing to do with the problem.

But then there came that night, and Fedya cooking dinner and stumbling through trying to ask him if they were maybe something, and in that moment, Ivan found it all so hilarious that the only thing he could do was sit there and let the whole thing play out. Then it turned out, of course, that they were together, and that Fedyor kissed him just as deliciously as Ivan had imagined, and maybe Nadia Zhabina was not so wrong after all.

Maybe she was not wrong in the least.

Ivan takes his supermarket bags to the sunny kitchen of the mostly-remodeled apartment and sets them down. Fedya has picked out all the colors and wallpapers and furniture and paint, and Ivan has done most of the work, since he is gainfully employed as a handyman and repair-person and he doesn’t want to pay some American to half-ass a job that he can do better. The apartment is really quite lovely now. The living room has been done in a pale, springy green, the white plaster moldings washed and repaired, all the junk of the previous owner finally cleared out except for one or two collectibles that they decided to keep. There’s a bookshelf and a desk filled with Fedya’s work things, a couch and a television and a coffee table and new curtains. The bedroom is big and airy, with a ceiling fan and new carpets. Framed pictures and art pieces hang on the wall. It looks like a place where real people live.

Ivan makes breakfast, cooking and stirring and brewing the coffee, and puts it all on a tray. It’s Saturday, so of course Fedya is still asleep, and Ivan pads through the apartment to the closed bedroom door, balancing the tray on his hip long enough to open it and cast a strip of light inside. It takes a moment, but Fedyor rolls over, groggy and tousled and very, very cute with his bed-headed dark hair and squinting eyes. “Vanya? What smells so good?”

“Happy birthday, my love.” Ivan sets the tray on the bedside table and leans down to kiss him, as Fedyor makes a happy humming sound and throws his arms around Ivan’s neck, cuddling against him like a barnacle. “I have made you breakfast.”

(His younger self was wrong, and he has never been so glad of it.)

(This was the best, this is the best, this was waiting for him, this kind of happiness could happen for him, and he is grateful beyond all words that he fought for it and believed it until it did.)

#ivan x fedyor #heartrender husbands #fivan #ivan kaminsky #a phantom in enchanting light #pel asks #anonymous #ask #fivan ff

34 notes · View notes

sleepless-in-starbucks · 4 years ago

Text

Pointless Pining (makes for the best love stories)

Ao3

Summary: Sure, Roman could tell aur squishes that au was in love with them. There was even a fairly good chance they’d return the sentiment! But there was also a chance (however small) that they would say no, and well... Roman didn’t want to take that risk. Content: Mutual pining, oblivious pining so oblivious it’s ridiculous (but true!), swearing, referencing making out, running away from family events to avoid said family, confessions, kissing (not on the lips); everyone’s non-binary except andy who’s male (cis or trans, reader’s choice), aro!roman, implied aro!logan + aro!remy Pairings: QPR rolosleep, romo anxton (ts shorts anxiety [Andy] x Patton) Notes: For easy reference, Roman’s pronoun set is au/aur/aurs/aurself (based off of the periodic table element name for gold, not the term for alternate universes), Logan’s is ja/java/jav/javs/javaself (based off the coding language, not coffee), and Patton’s is dai/dais/daiself Also! this fic is dedicated to my wonderful qpps, @lo-gayn and @bitchy-sleep ! i adore them with all my heart, even if I wasn’t very helpful with the getting-together part of our relationship. this one’s for you, loves <3

Roman had an amazing, spectacular, flawless plan.

“This is a horrible idea, dude.”

Some people just refused to understand aur brilliance.

“You know, this is why I don’t talk to you.” Roman said matter-of-factly, ignoring Andy rolling his eyes as au compared two dresses in aur mirror. “Now just tell me which red goes better with my eyes.”

“How would I know? Unlike some people, I don’t spend all day looking into them.” Andy huffed, reclined out on Roman’s bed. “I don’t even know why you’re asking me for help with your clearly doomed plan.”

“I’m asking you because it’s you or Patton, and dai’ll just ignore my dress question and focus on the reason for the dress instead, and you know what dai will say then.”

“To get over yourself and stop ending up in fanfic-esque situations with your squishes because you’re a hopeless pining mess who refuses to open your eyes to the reality that they want to be your partners as much as you want to be theirs?”

Roman turned from the mirror, frowning at Andy. “Well dai wouldn’t say it so rudely.”

Andy just shrugged. “It’s the truth. The sooner you accept it, the sooner I can stop dealing with this bullshit.”

A gasp of faux offense sounded in the doorway, and Roman groaned at the same time Andy perked up, pushing himself into a better sitting position.

“Language!” Patton scolded, though dais words had no heat to them as dai smiled and joined Andy on the bed. Well, joined Andy on his lap, a move that the punk didn’t argue, even as his cheeks turned a rather vibrant shade of red.

“Sorry, Pat.” Andy mumbled as Patton innocently wrapped dais arms around the back of his neck and leaned against his chest. Roman rolled aur eyes. Andy could act as intimidating and tough as he wanted, but as soon as Patton was within eyesight, he melted.

“It’s no problem, an-dorable.” Patton said. Andy just blushed harder and Roman sniggered, amused. That was the wrong thing to do, however, as it drew Patton’s attention onto aur and aur dresses. “Oh, those are some nice outfits, Ro. What’s the special occasion?”

“None! Nothing!” Roman said hastily, quickly moving over to aur closet and tossing the two options back in haphazardly. Two weeks au had kept this a secret, and au refused to be found out now. “Just… showing off some of my wardrobe to Andy.”

Roman didn’t need to be facing Patton to know dai didn’t believe that, and au could practically hear the frown in dais tone as dai responded, “Are you sure? Those are some of your favorite dresses, you don’t normally take them out without a reason.”

“And I had a reason! Showing them off to Andy!” Roman defended, looking at Andy slightly desperately. “Right, Andy?”

Instead of providing Roman with the save au needed, however, Andy glanced at Patton before shaking his head. “Au’s got a date.”

Patton’s eyes lit up at the actual answer, distracted enough by it to not notice the rather violent motion Roman made at Andy. Andy seemed unconcerned and unthreatened, only smirking rather self-satisfiedly at the gesture.

“You finally asked them out?” Patton said excitedly, continuing on before Roman could continue, “This is great, Roro! You should definitely go with the scarlet dress, then- it’s just perfect for a first date-”

“It’s not a date!” Roman interrupted, stopping Patton’s words immediately.

Dai blinked twice, looking confused. “But Andy said it was.”

“Sometimes Andy lies.” Roman muttered.

“Not this time.” Andy spoke up, ignoring Roman’s glare. “I don’t care what you want to call it, dude, but it’s very clearly a date.”

“Those were some pretty nice dresses you were considering Roman.” Patton added. “Not really what you’d wear out casually.”

Roman sighed and glanced back at the dresses au had crammed back into aur closet. “Then maybe I’m just being too dramatic in my choice in attire.” Au mumbled to aurself, trying not to feel too disheartened. Au did like wearing those dresses, and any excuse to do so was one au’d always jump at. It’s not like au wanted Logan and Remy to see aur wearing one of them. Not in particular, anyways. That would be silly and blackmail material, and despite aur sibling’s sweet exterior dai was more than willing to work with blackmail.

Shaking aur head to focus back on the issue at hand, Roman once more faced Andy and Patton. “One of Logan’s relatives is having a birthday dinner, and Logan invited me and Remy to come and stop java from being forced to only interact with jav family for two hours. It’s not a date, just friends helping friends.”

“Ja literally invited both of you to dinner at a fancy restaurant for the express purpose of spending the night talking and dining with you two.” Andy said, repeating the same thing he had said only a few minutes ago, albeit then with more swearing. “It’s a date.”

“I have to agree with Andy here, Ro.” Patton said, once more smiling excitedly.

“You always agree with Andy.”

Patton waved dais hand dismissively. “You were clearly picking out date clothes to go out to dinner with your squishes. It’s a date.”

Roman sighed, moving over to aur desk. Au almost slumped into the chair before deciding the queer choice was to hop on top of the desk and sit there. “Just because it meets the criteria of a date doesn’t make it one.”

“If it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck-”

“-then maybe you’re just shit at identifying waterfowl.” Roman cut Andy off, ignoring Patton’s reprimand of ‘language!’. “Besides, dates are for people in love with each other. One-sided pining doesn’t count.”

At that statement, Roman was met with twin stares of disbelief.

“Really, Roman, I thought you would’ve gotten over this by now.” Patton said after a moment, tone lightly scolding.

“My pining…?”

“Your belief that it’s one-sided.” Patton corrected. “It’s very obvious, I’m not sure how you’re still missing it.”

“Just because you guys think it’s obvious-”

“Logan has literally told you ja’d be open to being in a QPR with you.” Andy cut aur off, disbelief now mixing with frustration. “How much more obvious do you need?”

Roman looked away, focusing on a wall. “It was late when ja said that, I’m sure ja didn’t mean it.”

Andy scoffed. “It was four in the afternoon.”

“That’s… kinda late.” Roman said, well aware aur tone wasn’t quite as confident as it needed to convince Patton and Andy to drop the matter. “And that’s just Logan, nothing about Remy.”

“He is literally always flirting with you.”

“Remy flirts with everyone.”

Patton shook dais head. “Remy only really flirts with two people, Ro, and she’s made out with one of them plenty of times.”

“Logan and Remy’s snogging is purely platonic.” Roman dismissed, wrinkling aur nose even as au said ‘snogging.’ Au wasn’t a fan of the word, but au preferred it to some of the other more creative terms au could’ve gone for.

Au left out the part where au was fairly certain it wasn’t purely platonic. There was only so long you could try and live in someone’s lap before one emotion or the other got wrapped into the mix, in Roman’s opinion.

“You’re really just going to ignore all of the evidence they like you back.” Andy said slowly, as if hoping that Roman would correct him.

But all Roman did was smile at him and cheerfully say, “Yep!”

Andy tossed his hands up into the air, flopping backwards on the bed, Patton giggling as dai fell over with him. “I give up. You’re impossible and refuse to listen to any and all logic.

“I listen to Logan!” Roman defended in amusement. “Ja’s the only one I know with a fully functioning braincell, after all.”

“And yet, you refuse to listen to Logan when ja says ja wants to be your partner.”

“Technically, ja just said ja’d be alright with the idea of it, not that ja wanted things to be that way.” Roman corrected, slipping off aur desk and moving towards aur dresser. “There’s a difference.”

“You know, you don’t have to have Logan confess to you first.” Patton pointed out, snuggling dais head against Andy’s shoulder. “Sometimes you just have to read the signs and make your move!”

Roman chuckled. “Patton, you asked Andy out within a day of knowing him. Your advice hardly applies here.”

Patton pouted. “I think it applies here!”

“You’re just refusing to read the signs, Roman.” Andy added, wrapping a hand around Patton’s back and kissing dais forehead. “It worked out pretty fucking well for Patton, after all.”

Roman didn’t respond immediately, waiting for Patton’s ‘language!’ exclamation, only to find it not coming, Patton much more distracted by curling against Andy’s chest. Roman smiled a bit at that. “Well, I am Jared, 19.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself, that’s what you are.” Andy replied. Roman bit back a ‘when do I not’ and focused on shifting through the clothes in aur dresser. Only a moment passed before Andy asked, “What’re you doing?”

“Picking my outfit for tonight.” Roman answered, pulling out a pair of aur black jeans, one of the pairs that hadn’t faded to grey yet. Au dropped it on top of aur dresser and moved on to finding a shirt.

Shuffling on the bed indicated to Roman that Andy and Patton must have sat up, likely to try and see what clothing pieces au was choosing. They didn’t say anything, however, until Roman pulled out two shirts and turned back towards them, displaying aur choices. “Which one do you think goes better with my eyes?”

Patton frowned. “From fancy dresses to jeans and t-shirts? That’s a pretty steep de-escalation, Ro.”

Roman shrugged. “Well, if you guys thought the fancy dresses were for a special date, I don’t want Logan and Remy to feel I’ve made any false assumptions as to our relationship and the purpose of tonight’s outing.” Au said, smirking at the look of shock and annoyance on Patton’s and Andy’s faces, respectively. “So. Which one goes better with my eyes?”

“You’re a moron.” Andy told aur before nodding his head at the shirt in Roman’s left hand. “That one.”

“Thank you!” Roman responded, turning back towards aur dresser and dropping the one Andy had indicated back into the drawer, putting the white tank top covered in sparkly golden dots of varying sizes with the jeans.

Andy groaned. “You know this is a date, no matter how hard you try to sabotage it, right?”

“Nope!” Roman replied, scooping up aur choice in outfit and snagging aur red hoodie off the floor before heading towards the hallway. “I’m going to get changed. If you two are still here when I get back, I’m going to raid Patton’s stash of hidden cookies and give them to Logan’s family.”

Patton squinted at aur. “You don’t know where my stash of cookies is. They’re hidden.”

Roman chuckled as au stepped out of the room, heading towards the bathroom. “If you say so, Pat.” Au called over aur shoulder, confident in aur belief that Andy and Patton would be gone before au had even changed aur shirt.

After all, there was only so much needling Roman could take, especially when it was in relation to aur squishes. Aur squishes who didn’t like aur back, Patton and Andy’s opinions aside and ignored. Roman might be aro, but au was still the expert on love, and au knew in-love people when au saw them. Logan and Remy loved Roman as a friend, and that was it.

And if Roman was wrong, well… it wasn’t like au was ever going to confess anyways.

Roman arrived at the Sanders household ten minutes early, having walked from aur house with the intent to hitch a ride with the family to the dinner. The driveway had a couple more cars in it than usual, and the out-of-state license plates some of them had confirmed Roman’s suspicions they were Logan’s visiting relatives’ vehicles.

Au didn’t bother with the door, cutting across the yard to the side of the house and slipping down and through the low-set basement window that had been left open for this exact purpose. Though the window was more commonly used as a way to escape the house, Roman and Remy often helping to pull Logan out so that they could go star-gazing when they all should’ve been sleeping, it served the purpose of avoiding strangers and prying questions equally well.

Roman landed well, rocking on aur feet slightly to keep aur balance as au glanced around, looking for aur friends. The basement was a small affair, with one side taken up with Logan’s bed, dresser and desk, and the other with a bathroom and an old washing machine that no longer washed clothes but did occasionally hold the elements of Logan’s various experiments. That made it easy to spot Logan, who was sitting on jav bed and reading, so absorbed in jav book that ja didn’t notice Roman’s entrance.

This gave Roman the perfect opportunity to be gay without java noticing.

Because Logan, of course, had already changed for the dinner; jav regular nerdy t-shirt and jeans had been replaced with a simple, knee-length dark blue dress, the top half layered with white lace that outlined constellations across Logan’s chest. Jav hair was held in a loose ponytail by a silver ribbon, and matching star clips held back jav bangs. Ja looked gorgeous, and in that moment Roman wanted nothing more than to kiss jav forehead.

But then Logan looked up from jav book and the moment was over.

Ja spotted Roman quickly, offering aur a smile as ja slipped jav bookmark into place and put jav book to the side. “Hello, Roman!”

Roman smiled back, trying to push aur thoughts away. “Heya, specs. How you doing?”

“I’m alright.” Logan answered. “My relatives still remember the elephant toothpaste incident from last year, so they’re wary of coming down here and bothering me.”

Roman chuckled at the memory of said incident. Despite requesting that ja be allowed to spend jav birthday as ja wanted, Logan’s parents had called jav relatives down for the day and planned a party around them being there. So Logan threw some water, soap, yeast, and hydrogen peroxide into a box and set the concoction up to make a mess of the stairs leading to jav room as soon as someone opened the door.

Ja had escaped out the window after that, where Roman and Remy had been waiting for java to join them. The three of them had spent the day wandering the town, avoiding Logan’s searching family and doing whatever caught their attention. They had ended the day with the greasiest food from the cheapest fast-food joint they could find, eating it on top of the long-closed arcade and admiring the view of their town at dusk.

Logan had been grounded for two weeks afterwards, but ja always held that it was worth it for what had been the best birthday of jav life.

Roman was pulled out of aur recollections by the sound of a door opening. Looking up, however, Roman realized it wasn’t the door to the basement, but instead the bathroom door.

A second later and Remy emerged, dressed almost opposingly to Logan’s style and yet still looking just as stunning. Like Roman, he was wearing jeans, but hers were torn up and well-worn. He was also wearing a black crop top, a fishnet shirt doing a poor job of covering up the rest of her upper body, not that Remy seemed to care. His jacket was slung over her back, his sunglasses were resting in her messy brown-and-pink hair, and his easy confidence in her look were only adding to the rising blush Roman was trying to fight off.

“Finally decided to join us, babes?” Remy teased, seemingly oblivious to Roman’s gay panic.

Roman cleared aur throat and tried to be oblivious to it too. “Excuse you, I’m ten minutes early.”

“Yeah, but I’ve already been here for hours.” Remy complained, dropping down next to Logan on the bed dramatically. “And I’ve only had one cutie to gaze at the entire time! Not that ja isn’t certainly a very gorgeous cutie-”

“Remy’s been helping me ensure no one tries to bother me before I’m stuck at a table with them.” Logan explained, cutting Remy off and ignoring his pout. “She’s been here since my first relative showed up around one.”

“Over four hours of just you two chilling down here?” Roman confirmed, smirking as au did so. “Wonder how you spent that time.”

Logan frowned at Roman in disappointment. “I mostly spent it reading and ignoring the annoyance.”

“Mostly?” Roman repeated, smirk growing at the light blush that entered Logan’s cheeks.

“Well I couldn’t exactly be reading for every single second of those hours-”

“What Lolo means is that I’m not as annoying as ja pretends I am.” Remy cut in, throwing an arm over Logan’s shoulders and leaning against java. “And that I have very nice lips.”

Logan’s blush turned a deeper red as ja swatted at Remy, pushing her off of java. “You are as annoying as I say you are, and you’re a bitch.”

“But you still kissed meeeeee.”

“I will shove you.”

“Ah, come on, you know you love me-”

Roman didn’t bother trying to stifle aur laugh as Logan made good on jav claim.

Remy, for his part, didn’t seem put out, only looking up at Logan from her new position on the floor, slowly shaking his head as she said, “Cold, Lo, cold.”

“I do run a temperature lower than the average human, though I do not see how that could be relevant here.”

Remy pushed himself up, climbing back onto the bed and immediately slotting herself against Logan’s side, resting his head on jav shoulder and wrapping her arms around jav waist. “Because if you don’t have me warming you up, you could freeze! So you really can’t keep shoving me off of you.”

“That’s illogical.” Logan pointed out with a roll of jav eyes, but ja made no move to get Remy off of java.

Roman tried to find the best, least awkward way to stand, considering au was near the middle of the room and the only other people in it were cuddling. A small part of aur considered joining them on the bed, maybe even leaning against Logan aurself and joining the cuddles, but the possibility of it being weird or disruptive to the nice little thing Logan and Remy already had was too high to risk, so au remained rocking on aur heels, glancing at aur watch and wondering how close they were to go time.

The door at the top of the stairs opening and Logan’s mother yelling down about how they were about to leave and Logan needed to get upstairs answered Roman’s question for aur.

“Remy, please let go of me.”

Remy made an unhappy humming noise and didn’t move.

Logan sighed. “I can’t get up if you don’t let go of me.”

“Then don’t get up.” Remy murmured back, clearly content to skip out on the dinner and spend the evening with just Logan instead. It was a sentiment Roman seconded, if only in aur mind.

“I don’t want to be grounded again.” Logan replied.

Remy sighed, sounding greatly annoyed, but he finally did as Logan asked, letting java go and standing up. “Can I at least hold your hand?”

Logan stood up after her, only taking a second to think before ja nodded and offered Remy one of jav hands. Remy smiled brightly, taking the proffered hand and nearly pulling Logan towards the door.

He was stopped by Logan’s refusal to move too far, turning back towards Roman instead and holding out jav other hand.

“Coming?” Logan said simply, and after a moment that stretched longer than it probably should have, Roman nodded, hesitantly taking Logan’s hand. Logan’s fingers wrapped tightly around aur own, the gesture warm and sweet, even if Roman only had a moment to appreciate it before Remy was once more tugging on Logan, now dragging both java and Roman along with her up the stairs.

Roman allowed aurself to be pulled along, using that time to try and decide if au should ignore the warmth blooming in aur chest or savor it.

Dinner went just about exactly how Roman had expected it to go. Logan’s relatives tried to talk to java, aur and Remy deflected their questions away, the relatives asked them questions instead, Logan helped deflect those, jav relatives moved back to trying to question java, the cycle went on until they were halfway through dessert. Roman was just thankful most of the relatives allowed themselves to be deterred from their interrogation-style inquiries.

There were some positives as well. The three of them had secured one of the table’s corners, Logan seated between Remy and Roman to further block javaself off from jav family. In that arrangement, it was easy for them to duck over and talk to each other, keeping their conversation separate from the rest of the table’s.

And that was how they had spent most of the dinner, talking amongst themselves, trying to muffle their laughs as Logan made particularly scathing remarks about jav more despised relatives and they discussed where they’d all prefer to be. When their food arrived, they traded bites of their meals with each other, using the opportunity to mock each other’s taste with grins on their faces. That particular activity got some of Logan’s relatives looking at them funny, but Roman just shrugged it off as none of them knowing what having genuine fun with one’s friends looked like.

It was at the end of dinner, when Logan’s family was waiting on the bill and discussing what to do with the rest of the evening, when Logan excused javaself to go to the bathroom. Ja patted Roman’s and Remy’s shoulders as ja stood, clearly wanting to make sure they didn’t forget the plan.

Roman knew au certainly hadn’t, and a glance at Remy’s smirk proved she hadn’t either.

A couple of minutes after Logan’s departure from the table, Roman feigned interest in aur phone, acting as though au had gotten a text. Au then stood up, thanking the collective Sanders for inviting aur to dinner and explaining that aur ride was there and it was time for aur to head home. Au brushed off their confusion at thinking they were the ones taking aur home easily, and slipped away from the table before they could figure out something was amiss.

Au smiled when au found Logan in the lobby, looking only slightly worried over the idea that one of jav relatives might catch java trying to get out of any more family interaction time. Ja smiled when ja saw Roman, however. “Took you long enough.”

“I believe it was you who said if I left too soon after you they’d be suspicious.” Roman replied, matching jav smile. “Why, miss me?”

“Always.” Logan said almost immediately, and Roman fought off a blush at the single word. Au and Logan were close friends, and had been like that for a while. Cheesy lines like that were relatively common between the two of them; it didn’t mean anything else.

Roman cleared aur throat. “Do you want to step outside? Remy might take a bit, depending on whether or not he decides to make a scene, and I don’t want to be too close if that happens, do you?”

Logan chuckled. “Certainly not.” Ja replied, moving towards the double doors of the restaurant and holding one of them open for Roman.

Stepping outside, Roman took in a deep breath of the cool evening air, preferring it to the overwhelming smell of various foods that had wafted throughout the entire restaurant. Logan came to stand beside aur only a second later, and Roman directed them both to the side of the restaurant, where they could wait discreetly for Remy to join them.

“So,” Roman started, not wanting to spend the entire time waiting in silence, “scale of one to ten, how has your evening been so far?”

Logan considered the question for a moment before responding, “An eight, I’d say.”

Roman’s eyes widened a bit. “That’s pretty high, all things considered.”

Logan shrugged. “Being around my relatives is always an atrocious affair, but having you and Remy around helped a lot. It was much more manageable with you two.” Logan glanced at Roman for a moment, expression unreadable, before focusing jav gaze back out on the parking lot in front of them. “I always enjoy being around you.”

“We’re around each other a lot.” Roman pointed out quietly. Au wasn’t sure what point au was trying to prove, but au wasn’t quite sure what point Logan was going for either.

“I suppose so.” Logan murmured, though it sounded more like a filler phrase than anything else. Silence stretched between them after that, and Roman didn’t feel like au should break it.

It was eventually broken for aur by Remy sprinting out of the restaurant, spinning on his heel as she got outside, stopping when he saw Logan and Roman.

“Hey, darlings! We gotta go!” She called out, grabbing their attention as he gestured for them to come join her. “Unless you want this whole plan to go down the drain, anyways!”

“I knew he should’ve snuck out before me.” Logan said, shaking jav head even as ja smiled and started to run after Remy, Roman right behind java.

Remy didn’t start moving again until Logan and Roman were close, close enough that he could grab their hands. As soon as she had them, he took off again, weaving between the cars fast enough to hopefully throw off anyone who might be at the restaurant entrance now, trying to spot them.

Soon enough they were out of the restaurant’s parking lot and on the sidewalk, racing down it as fast as they could. Remy still held their hands, her grip tight and warm, while he constantly checked around them, looking for something or another. Suddenly, she skidded to a stop in front of an alleyway.

“You guys want to see something awesome?” Remy asked, glancing between the two of them as he asked.

Roman fought off the urge to respond ‘I already do’ as au looked at Remy, flushed from the running but grinning as well, looking a wild sort of beautiful. “I’d love to.”

“I certainly don’t have a better way to spend my time.” Logan said.

Remy’s grin only grew. “Great.” She said, right before starting to run again, pulling them into the alleyway. They allowed themselves to be led as he ducked between different alleys and slipped between spaces Roman felt they weren’t meant to slip through, only letting go of Remy’s hands when she released them, coming to a stop in a small, unusual clearing.

The spot Remy had finally stopped on was a ledge of cracked and jagged concrete, the broken concrete spreading out in a circle to fill the small area they were in, most of the space around them walled off by buildings built right next to each other and rusty chain link fences. Crumbling dirt sloped down against the concrete, making a small crater within the border of damaged rock.

In the center of it all was a pond. It wasn’t very large, the crater itself only being three or four yards wide across, but it was well-sized. The surface of the water was pretty with the sunset colours playing across it, but it was clear enough for the group to see down into it. The dirt in the pool was awkwardly packed, leaving it deep in some spots and shallow in others, but amongst the layers Roman could just make out little creatures swimming about.

“I stumbled into this place a couple of days ago when I was bored and wandering.” Remy explained while Roman and Logan leaned closer to the pond, both interested in the animals moving within it. “I think there was some construction mishap that made the crater, and they were too lazy to do anything to fix it, so they left it as was. Over time, it collected rainwater, and-”

“Are these tadpoles?” Logan interrupted, looking up from the pond to meet Remy’s eyes instead.

A broad smile broke across Remy’s face. “Far as I can tell, yep. Saw a few fully grown lads hopping around yesterday, too, though I don’t know if we’ll see them today.”

Logan smiled at that, jav grin somehow bigger than Remy’s as ja quickly turned back towards the pond, leaning even closer to look down at the tadpoles. “Wonderful.” Ja said, under jav breath, looking completely absorbed by the animals.

Roman forced aurself to stop admiring Logan and go back to watching the tadpoles before au was caught, but in aur opinion, the former view was much more incredible than the latter- and the tadpoles were pretty incredible.

“Tonight just gets better and better, huh?” Roman said, the comment technically directed towards both Logan and Remy, but given that Remy seemed to have become distracted with one of the fences, only Logan really heard it.

“Indeed.” Logan agreed, glancing away from the pond to look at Roman. Ja was still smiling brightly, jav entire face lit up and expression excited and happy. Roman couldn’t help but smile back, though aurs was softer, a product of Logan’s excitement, not aur own.

“You look lovely.” Roman said, out of the blue, not entirely sure why au had spoken. It was true, yes, but Roman tried to mostly internalize those thoughts. “Your, uh, your dress, I mean. It’s very lovely- you wear it very… lovelily.”

Logan laughed softly, a beautiful sound that Roman was absolutely in love with (almost as much as au was in love with Logan). “Thank you.” Ja finally said, with a small smile that seemed even more meaningful than the grin ja had been wearing a moment ago. “You wear your outfit very nicely as well.”

If Roman hadn’t been blushing earlier, au certainly was now. “Thanks.” Au mumbled, glancing back out at the pond to avoid Logan’s gaze. Au had the distinct feeling that if au looked too long au might say things they would both inevitably regret.

“My entire family thinks we’re together, you know.” Logan commented idely, ignoring the way Roman jerked at jav words. “Or me and Remy are together. Or you and Remy are together and I’m just third-wheeling. They’re too uptight to accept polyamory’s existence or it being valid, but if I did I think they’d assume we’re all together.”

Roman forced a laugh. “Amatonormativity’s wild.”

“It is.” Logan said, but it was offhanded. “Though I admit, all their conversing on the subject around, and sometimes to, me has… confused me a bit.”

“Holy shit, Lo, don’t tell me you think you’re allo.”

“Wha- no, no Roman, I’m still aromantic.”

“Oh.” Roman said lamely before frowning. Au was looking at Logan now, but jav expression was once more unreadable to aur. “Then what’s up?”

Logan laughed nervously, taking jav turn as the one awkwardly watching the pond instead of the other. “Do you recall, a few months ago, when I told you I would be amicable to the idea of us entering into a queerplatonic relationship?”

“Would I forget?”

“You have the figurative memory of a goldfish so, yes, you would.”

Roman chuckled. “Alright, you got me there. But, yes, Lo, I remember.” Au answered directly, hoping au just imagined the shake in aur voice.

“When I told you that, it was because I felt I was- so to speak- in possession of equal platonic and queerplatonic feelings towards you. I did not mind being your friend, nor would I have minded being your partner, because both made me perfectly happy.”

Roman hummed when Logan paused, trying to show au was paying attention without risking something as embarrassing as a voice break.

“Now, I feel as though I still hold equal platonic and queerplatonic feelings towards you. But I’m… uncertain as to which I should be having. I have always been content with considering us to simply be friends, but the words of my family have forced me to take a closer look at what our relationship is, and I feel as if I must reconsider that view.”

“I’m… not sure I completely follow, Lo.” Roman said hesitantly, trying to crush the unsteady flutter of hope in aur chest. Logan was talking about confusion, not making a confession.

Logan took a deep breath before ja turned from the pond to look directly at Roman. “I believe if our relationship continues as it has, sooner rather than later, I will no longer fully feel content to be your friend alone, and instead wish to also be your… your partner.” Jav gaze dropped down to the ground between the two of them. “That is, if that has not happened already.”

Oh. So it was a confession.

Roman didn’t say anything, feeling speechless and breathless all at once. Logan took the unmoving stare and lack of response poorly. “I apologize if you do not feel the same, I truly do not completely expect you too, I do not want to hurt our friendship with my assumptions-”

“No! Logan, no, I-” Roman paused to take a breath, trying not to focus on Logan’s wide-eyes from aur sudden yell. “Oh, gosh, you’re going to hate me.”

“I find that doubtful.” Logan replied evenly, now tilting jav head on its side in curious bewilderment. “Why do you think I would hate you?”

Roman ran a hand through aur hair, looking away from Logan as au did but turning back towards java when au spoke. “Your feelings are completely requited.”

Logan’s eyes widened again, this time in surprise. “You mean-”

“-And they have been for several months.” Roman added, interrupting Logan.

“Since I told you I would be alright being in a QPR with you?”

“Since, uh, since a couple of weeks before that.”

“Oh. Oh!” Logan said, moving from processing to what Roman could only describe as delight. Ja was smiling again, almost giddily, pressing one hand over jav mouth to try and stifle jav laughter.

“Well, now, that’s just rude.” Roman teased lightly, feeling rather giddy aurself. They had both just admitted they wanted to be the other’s partner, after all, so surely that meant-

“I assure you, I’m not laughing at you, just-” Logan laughed again despite jav words, and when ja leaned forward Roman realized ja had scooted closer to aur, jav forehead landing against Roman’s shoulder as ja laughed in a way that suggested less humor and more joy. Roman’s heart soared. “You’re very cute, Roman.”

Roman grinned like that was the best thing au had ever heard even as aur cheeks flushed crimson. “You’re cuter, angel.”

“Ah, petnames.” Logan said, tone warm and content and happy. “Love, dear, darling…”

“Your love, your dear, your darling.” Roman corrected softly, feeling bold. It immediately paid off as Logan tried to press jav face further into Roman’s shoulder, trying to hide the blush Roman knew was covering jav face. “My cutie.”

“Your cutie.” Logan echoed, sounding lovestruck even in just those two words.

Roman pressed a kiss to the top of Logan’s head, smiling growing as Logan giggled. “My cutie, my angel, my beloved, my Logan.”

Logan only giggled more, and Roman beamed, entranced by the sound and more than willing to listen to it for the rest of aur life. “My Roman.” Logan managed to say between jav giggles, oblivious to the bright red flush that had taken over Roman’s face. Au pressed aur head against the top of Logan’s, not necessarily to hide aur blush so much as to be even closer to Logan.

“Please tell me this is what it looks like, because babes, if I have to go one more day watching your sorry asses pine over each other like you’re the only people in the world I’m going to lose it.”

At the sound of Remy’s voice, Roman turned aur head to face her, refusing to remove aur head from on top of Logan’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rem, we’re just two bros pressed up against each other like bros do.”

“Ha ha.” Remy dropped down beside the two of them, flicking some rust off of his nails. “I still can’t believe it took you two five months, a frog pond, and me looking away to finally admit you’re queer as hell for each other.”

“The best things take time.” Logan murmured. “Though, I admit, I would have liked to have been doing this five months ago.”

“Well, maybe if you had admitted you wanted to be my partner earlier, we could’ve gotten here sooner.”

Logan lifted jav face from Roman’s shoulder to level a sweet but disappointed expression at aur. “That is exactly what I did.”

“Yeah, but you said you could go either way.” Roman pointed out, tone light and joking. “You should’ve known that wouldn’t be enough confirmation for me.”

Logan let out a small laugh, shaking jav head, but the look in jav eyes was only fond. “You’re an idiot, love.”

Roman just grinned. “Only because you keep hogging our shared braincell.”

“You can’t be trusted with it.” Logan replied, returning jav head to Roman’s shoulder, seemingly content to leave it there for as long as ja could. “But that is alright, my dear. I will keep it safe for you.”

“Thank you, my angel.” Roman responded, trying and failing to ignore how hot aur cheeks were. There was a simplicity and ease in calling Logan aurs that only confirmed to Roman that this- that them- was always meant to be, but that didn’t make aur immune to blushing about it.

“You two are cute.” Remy commented idly, leaning forward to rest her chin on Logan’s shoulder. Logan didn’t react, clearly used to the motion. “Does this make me a house-wrecker, now?”

“I don’t think you can wreck a house that has only just existed with past actions.” Logan stated thoughtfully.

Roman grinned over Logan’s head at Remy, the solid thrum of adrenaline from one successful squish-turned-partner making aur bold. “Can’t wreck a house you’re a part of, either.”

Though Roman knew Remy would never admit it, his cheeks dusted pink at Roman’s suggestion. “Funny, sugar, very funny.”

“I would not necessarily assume that Roman’s suggestion is meant to be humorous.” Logan said, which Roman could tell made Remy only blush more. “I cannot speak for aur, but I will say that I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to being in a partnership with you as well, Remy.”

“Three is my favorite number.” Roman added, wrapping an arm around Logan’s back to grab one of Remy’s hands.

“You two are going to get me confused.” Remy complained, though she squeezed Roman’s hand, using the grip as an excuse to wrap his arm around Logan’s back as well. “I hope you’re ready to deal with the consequences of that.”

“I’d be more than happy to.” Roman assured her, not bothering to stave off a giddy smile at the thought of having two wonderful partners.

“Indeed.” Logan added, shuffling a bit and forcing Remy to lean closer against java. Remy laughed at the action, but didn’t say anything, only leaning forward to kiss Logan’s cheek before settling down against jav side.

“Well, now, that’s just rude.” Roman teased, getting Remy’s attention. “Don’t I get a kiss too?”

Remy grinned. “Anything for you, hun.” He responded, careful to not crush Logan as she leaned over java and kissed Roman’s cheek. He laughed when Roman’s flush immediately renewed itself, even darker this time. “You knew that was coming.”

“That doesn’t make me prepared!” Roman replied, trying to sound indignant and knowing au was failing horribly. It didn’t help when au impulse shifted over so that au could kiss Remy’s forehead before she could get fully out of range, making it Remy’s turn to blush.

“Oh, that was mean.” Remy mumbled, but given the colour of his face and the slightly strangled way she spoke, Roman got the feeling he didn’t actually mind it much at all.

“Mhmm.” Roman hummed disbelievingly before moving to kiss Logan’s forehead as well, giddy with the knowledge that this was just a thing au could do now.

Logan reacted to Roman’s kiss faster than Roman had expected, leaning up to kiss the tip of aur nose before au could pull away, smiling at Roman. Roman smiled back without a thought. A glance up revealed Remy was smiling softly at the two of them as well, becoming even softer when she caught Roman’s gaze and smiled directly at aur.

Roman reveled in the moment, feeling as though au had never been warmer despite the chill the evening brought with it. With both aur squishes- with both aur partners- held close, Roman felt as if nothing could ever top this moment.

Now all au had to do was make sure Andy and Patton never found out about it.

79 notes · View notes

the-ethereal-serpent · 4 years ago

Text

Types Of Hauntings

☽⦁──────── ⦁⧊⦁ ────────⦁☾

☽⦁──────── ⦁⧊⦁ ────────⦁☾

Residual Haunting Activity

Residual haunting activity can occur when something traumatic/stressful occurs, such as a murder. Negative energy is literally blasted into the atmosphere, causing the atmosphere to imprint or record the events. Like a recording tape, it will play the events over and over again. The entities involved in this residual haunting activity are unaware of their surroundings. This is not an intelligent haunting, there is no interaction between you and the entity.

Residual haunting activity can also be caused by positive energy blasted into the atmosphere. Many times you have heard ghost stories, where people can hear the sounds of a party. They hear music, singing, dancing, laughter and when they enter the room where they hear the party, there is no one there. Residual haunting activity can be the specters of living beings.

☽⦁──────── ⦁⧊⦁ ────────⦁☾

Poltergeist Activity

Poltergeist is from a German word meaning noisy spirits. Reports of poltergeists date back to Ancient Roman times. The activity that takes place will start off with knocks and bangs, furniture starting to move around by itself. Then the activity will become more intense, manifesting itself through voices and even the appearance of full apparitions. Furniture may slide across the room and beds may shake. Many shows are based on this type of haunting because it tends to be the most terrifying and rarest type of haunting that occurs.

Most of the time, in the case of a poltergeist, the haunting circles around a female in her teen years. Some of these cases seem to be caused by the female unknowingly controlling the energy around herself. Some cases happen around people that are stable and in the right mind space. This haunting is hard to classify due to certain situations. No two are ever really the same. Most of the time you will find that one person in the house seems to be more affected by the haunting than anyone else.

It may seem that most of the activity doesn’t happen unless that certain person is present. Usually , the activity appears to stop when that person leaves the home. The majority of the time poltergeists are experienced by several people, but again they seem to center around one certain person. This person may be highly stressed as of late or maybe this person has gone through some type of extreme emotional situation. If this is the case, see that the individual involved gets some medical care, and soon afterwards the poltergeist will subside.

When it is not the teenager that is manifesting activity there are usually several spirits in the area. The spirits appear to pool their energy together in order to become strong enough to move larger objects and make more noises. In order to remedy the situation, you need to find the root of their anger so that they can pass over and leave you in peace. On most poltergeist cases they will disappear with out any warning, just as they appeared.

Certain times it may stop within a few days, other times it may take years. you may never know the reason that it happened. Most people are just happy to see it go and that’s enough for them. By understanding why it was there in the first place helps you to understand how to keep it from ever coming back again. Knowledge is the key in protecting yourself.

☽⦁──────── ⦁⧊⦁ ────────⦁☾

Demonic Activity

Demons are entities that never had a mortal human form. Origins: Extraterrestrial. Why? If you believe that God and his angels are from the ‘heavens’, that would make them extraterrestrial. If Satan and 1/3 of the angels rebelled against God’s Kingdom, then Satan and 1/3 of the angels that became demons are also extraterrestrial. That is why they never had mortal human form. Einstein said that E = MC2. Energy can be converted into matter and matter into energy. Demons are pure energy entities. They are described in three different ways.

1. As angelic, a being of beauty that will manipulate the person to commit something that is sinful or out of the ordinary.

2. Horrific, evil looking. Some people claim, they have seen demons that are incredibly hideous to look at. I believe demons do this for a scare effect, they know what we fear and this is not their true appearance.

3. Black mist, black fog, black shadow, black smoke. Most demonic hauntings, the occupants claim to be followed by black mist or black fog.

They are usually very easy to identify as long as they are not hiding. When it is a demonic haunting you typically notice a revolting stench similar to rotted flesh or sulfuric acid. They often let loose a growl that sounds like it is coming from everywhere at once. They like to make contact by pushing, shoving, hitting and even scratching. The whole air in the affected area will feel thick like fog and the temperature will drastically change, typically becoming warmer.

These creatures are very strong, unlike human spirits, and they don’t mind showing it. There have been cases where people have been thrown through the air and even attacked. Apparently, their main goal is to break down a person’s free will in order to makeway for possession. This can take days, months or years, but time is of no concern to them. They have a hatred for mankind that dates back to the days of God and Lucifer.

They have lived for millennia and will be here long after we are gone. So, you must understand that though you may be able to get these creatures to leave a dwelling with religious provocation, you will never destroy them. They could go to the next place down the road if they choose, most likely they won’t because distance is not an issue for these creatures. They could go from Maine to California on a thought.

Demons are capable of changing form right in front of you from a human form to an inhuman form. They are neither male nor female, but can change to meet their needs. People mostly see demons as black masses standing in doorways or near rooms. Sometimes they are called shadow devils.

☽⦁──────── ⦁⧊⦁ ────────⦁☾

Intelligent/Interactive Activity

Back to Einstein’s theory. As matter beings, we are all energy beings on the quantum level. We are made up of atoms and neutrons. As matter/energy beings we have intelligence. While we live, we have an energy aura that surrounds our living bodies. This aura is created by the millions of electrical currents that are created through our bodies. Our brains creates brain waves, a form of pure energy that is transmitting our thoughts, what we see, what we feel, etc.

When our mortal form dies, the aura that constantly surrounds our bodies, leaves our bodies. We lose 6 ounces on the instance of death. What is this 6 ounces? Perhaps it is energy leaving our body. Our soul. This energy, the aura, or you may even call it your soul, is carrying the information of what we used to be.

If it can do this, then why couldn’t it also carry our intelligence? If it can carry our former intelligence of our previous life, then it should be able to interact with us intelligently. When we see this aura, we call it a ghost. If this ghost is able to interact with us, is aware of us, can touch us, can communicate with us, then this is an intelligent/interactive haunting.

Some reasons the ghost may be tied to the site or people :

Died as a result of a traumatic event, murder, car accident, etc.

Due to unfinished business.

The spirit may have died suddenly and not realized he/she died.

The living loved ones are so emotionally distraught they can’t let go.

The spirit is emotionally connected to their loved ones.

They cannot rest due to an injustice done to them.

Fear of the other side or judgment

☽⦁──────── ⦁⧊⦁ ────────⦁☾

Shadow People or Shadow Creatures

This is a type of haunting activity that has no real explanation. They are different from ghosts. They are usually shapeless dark masses. Mostly seen with your peripheral vision. They are known to do things that are different from ghosts. They can move between walls, they have no human features, they wear no clothes (except for the hat man/hooded figure shadow creatures). People who encounter them, have a feeling of dread.

Clairvoyants that encounter Shadow People, say they do not feel they are human and consider them non-human. Shadow People have no discernible mouth, noses or facial expressions. Some are seen as child sized dark humanoids. Some people say they seem to be made up of dark smoke or dark steam. At times when they move, they appear to be moving on an invisible track from one place to another, such as a toy train on a small scale railroad track. They have been seen to hop or what appears to be a strange dance. They are known to stare at the floor.

Two common types of Shadow People are the ‘hat man’, that looks like he or she is wearing a 1930s fedora hat and the ‘hooded figure’, which looks like the shadow person has a hood over their head. The hood and hat stand out as clothing, but otherwise, they are not wearing any clothing at all. There are also reports of shadow animals, such as a shadow in the form of a cat, with no discernible mouth, nose or eyes.

☽⦁──────── ⦁⧊⦁ ────────⦁☾

Portal Hauntings

Portals aren’t really a new concept, as we’ve seen them in a lot of sci-fi flicks. But in the real world portal hauntings are considered controversial as there is little known and the idea is mostly theory or speculation. Portals are thought to be doorways to another world or dimension in which entities travel through.

It’s speculated that portals are not limited to one location, region or limited to sacred ground. Typically places that experience a wide array of different types of anomalous activity such as glowing balls of light, odd creatures, strange shapes, or unexplained mists or fog, are suspected to have a portal in which these energies are traveling back and forth.

☽⦁──────── ⦁⧊⦁ ────────⦁☾

Note From Lluna

When it comes to the demon section, I know there are quite a few Pagans that work with Lucifer and demons and believe they are not evil. I don't know much beyond that, but I just want to add that this article is from the writers perspective and other perspectives must be considered as well.

Also, you need to remember that not all spirits are evil or negative. Many are neutral or positive and can assist you in your craft and even protect you from other harmful entities.

☽⦁──────── ⦁⧊⦁ ────────⦁☾

Article Source : https://hauntedoc.com/types-of-hauntings/]

55 notes · View notes

watusichris · 4 years ago

Text

My Brilliant Career in Chicago Pro Wrestling: A True Story

Damn, I could have sworn I’d posted this 2015 Night Flight story, which remains the funniest thing I’ve ever written. Every word is true. ********** In the early 1970s, before Vince McMahon’s World Wrestling Federation (today World Wrestling Entertainment) turned professional wrestling into a pay-per-view cash cow, pro grappling was a wide-open game run by maverick regional promoters and catering to lunatic fans. I got to experience this incredible world intimately: For two years, I served as “publicist” for the promoter in one of the biggest wrasslin’ towns in the country, Chicago.

I was fresh out of college back in 1972, and returned to my old room in my mother’s apartment in Evanston bearing a seemingly worthless bachelor’s degree in English and no immediate prospects for gainful employment. Fortunately, my father believed in nepotism.

After a long career as a TV executive that had garnered him two Peabody Awards, my dad was then the general manager of WSNS, a Chicago UHF station that broadcast on Channel 44. It was a low-rent operation that my old man helped legitimize by securing telecasts of White Sox games. (He loathed Sox announcer Harry Caray, who would get hammered out of his skull while working in the booth, and rightly thought major league screwball-turned-color man Jimmy Piersall was out of his mind.)

Though such questionable WSNS programming as a daily late-night weathercast delivered by a buxom negligee-clad blonde stretched out on a heart-shaped bed was a thing of the past, colorful holdovers from the old schedule remained. And thus my dad called me one day to say he could get me some part-time work doing PR for Bob Luce, the local pro wrestling promoter, who mounted the weekly show All Star Championship Wrestling on the station.

Naturally, I was hired on the spot at my first meeting with Luce, who was something of a legend in Chicago sports circles at the time. Chicago Sun-Times columnist Bob Greene captured had him perfectly in a famous column in which every sentence ended with an exclamation point.

Stocky, florid of complexion, and as loud as his off-the-rack sport coats, the outsized Luce was the dictionary definition of the word “character.” You’d sit down with him in a restaurant, and the other diners would duck and cover. Constantly agitated and gesticulating wildly, his stentorian conversation was a manic torrent of hype and madness, punctuated by explosive laughter than sounded like a machine gun going off next to your ear.

Fittingly, before joining the wrestling biz, Luce had edited a tabloid, the National Tattler. Like the National Enquirer of that frontier era, the rag made its bones with totally fictitious “news” stories featuring lots of cleavage and outré bloodletting. At one lunch, to the very evident embarrassment of the neighboring clientele, Luce regaled me with the tale of one inspired Tattler cover story, which I will recount Greene-style. Imagine it at full volume: “I got this idea, see, for a story about a sex orgy! [He pronounced “orgy” with a hard “g,” as in “Porgy” of Porgy and Bess.] But it had to be a different kind of orgy! So I got my wife Sharon to take her clothes off and covered her with peanut butter! And we took some pictures, and the lights were HOT, and the peanut butter melted all over her! They were great pictures! We called it – ha ha HA! – ‘PEANUT BUTTER ORGY!’”

Luce had graduated to promoting pro wrestling events in Chicago and other Midwestern markets, in partnership with the American Wrestling Association’s star attractions, Verne Gagne and Dick the Bruiser, of whom more in a moment. (His sweet, funny, but definitely tough wife knew the business: She had wrestled under the name Sharon Lass.)

As the noisy host of All Star Championship Wrestling, Luce would interview the stars of his upcoming promotions, show footage of recent contests, and pump the next matches. Thrusting a finger at the camera in one of his windups, he would shriek, “BE THERE!!!” Ever the sales impresario, he also served as the show’s principal pitchman, appearing in tandem with some of his hulking charges -- and occasionally with special guest hucksters like former heavyweight champ Leon Spinks -- to spiel for a long line of sketchy local advertisers. They are among the greatest and most hilarious commercials ever made.

As Luce’s publicity rep, commanding a monthly paycheck of $200, I was charged with lightweight duty: writing and mailing press releases promoting the bi-weekly Friday night matches at the Chicago International Amphitheatre, assisting the WSNS camera crew at the gigs (sometimes by protecting their extra film magazines from flying bodies at ringside), and calling in the results of the matches to the local papers. (The last task proved to be the most onerous. I’d ring up the local sports desks late on the nights of the matches and harangue some half-drunk, bored assistant editor whose interest in the “sport” could not have been more infinitesimal. When I finally managed to get the Sun-Times to print the results of one match, I felt as if I’d qualified for a Publicists Guild award.) I also performed certain functions for Luce when he was out of town or too busy to handle them. One weekday afternoon I accompanied Superstar Billy Graham, later a big WWF name and a sort of proto-Hulk Hogan, to Wrigley Field, where he was interviewed by nonplussed announcer Jack Brickhouse between innings of a Chicago Cubs radio broadcast.

Every other week for nearly two years, I’d take the El down to the Amphitheatre, located on Halsted Street on the far South Side, adjacent to the old Chicago Stock Yards. (I held onto the job even after I secured a similarly nepotistic but full-time position – writing about cheap component stereo systems for Zenith Radio Corporation.) The antique, immense Amphitheatre had hosted big political conventions, auto shows, circuses, rodeos, and concerts by Elvis Presley, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, and Led Zeppelin, but Luce’s dates at the venue, as you will see, attracted a distinctly different class of customer.

The pre-match staging area, where I’d meet Luce and the crew, was the Sirloin Room of the adjacent Stock Yard Inn, not far from the site of the old South Side cattle slaughterhouses. This is where Luce’s employees and pals would also convene before the night’s entertainment began to swill a couple of cocktails and shoot the breeze. It was a cast worthy of a Damon Runyon story.

Luce employed a bodyguard, a towering ex-Chicago cop named Duke, who had reputedly shot six men before being relieved of duty by the PD. He stood about six-four and dressed exactly like John Shaft. He emanated an aura of extreme menace. Once, when I asked him what he would do if someone actually started any serious trouble, Duke wordlessly pulled back the lapel of his full-length leather coat to reveal a shoulder holster bulging with a .44 Magnum.

The promotion’s bagman, charged with collecting the night’s cash receipts, was a diminutive cat everyone called Bill the Barber. I never knew his last name, but he did in fact run a South Side barbershop. He’d invariably show up dressed in a sport coat that looked like a TV test pattern and a skinny-brim fedora, with watery eyes that sometimes flicked nervously above his pencil-thin mustache. He kept a .38 strapped to his belt.

Many nights, a mysterious character referred to only as “Carmie La Papa” would put in an appearance. This elderly Italian gentleman was always treated with great deference and ate on Luce’s tab. I never found out exactly what he did. But he looked a lot like the mobster played by Pasquale Cajano in Martin Scorsese’s Casino, and I thought it wise not to inquire about his line of work.

There were also bona fide wrestling groupies, well-stacked, slightly haggard old-school broads who draped themselves on the bar, sipping pink ladies. One night, Luce leaned over to me in the Sirloin Room and said, in a whisper that could be heard 20 feet away, “After the matches, these girls and the guys go to a motel up in Prospect Heights, and they have orgies.” (Again, pronounced with a hard “g.”) The most popular of these was reportedly Gloria, a tall, pneumatic redhead of uncertain but rapidly advancing age; Luce confided, “She will do anything.”

The matches themselves were something to behold. I’d usually watch them in the company of WSNS’s young, jaded camera crew, from the dilapidated press box high above the ring in the center of the Amphitheatre. The crowd – thousands of poorly dressed, myopic, malodorous, and steeply inebriated men – was a product of what may be called the pre-ironic era of pro wrestling. There was no such thing as a suspension of disbelief among these spectators. Disbelief did not exist. Though the matches were as closely stage-managed as a production of Richard III, these rubes accepted every feigned punch and bogus drop kick as the McCoy.

Pro wrestling is the eternal contest between virtue and evil, and the wrestlers were identified in equal number as good guys and heels. Most of the good guys on the undercard – there were usually half a dozen matches, with one main event – were young “scientific” wrestlers whose Greco-Roman moves were no match for the brazenly illegal play of the dirty heels, who almost invariably won their bouts with tactics that would not pass muster with an elementary school playground monitor, let alone a legitimate referee. About the only one of these “babyfaces” (or, alternatively, “chumps”) who was vouchsafed an occasional victory was Greg Gagne, son of the promotion’s star attraction and part owner.

By the early ‘70s, Verne Gagne had been wrestling professionally for more than two decades; drafted by the Chicago Bears and then rebelling against team owner George Halas’ prohibition of a sideline on the mat, he had chosen the ring over the gridiron. He was 46 years old when I started working for Luce; he was still in decent shape, and, unlike almost all of his opponents, he still had all of his teeth.

I only managed to spend time with him once. For some reason now lost in the dense fog of time, Luce dispatched me to meet Gagne at the elegant Pump Room of the Drake Hotel near Lake Michigan. There, as cabaret star Dorothy Donegan serenaded us on the piano, the 16-time world heavyweight wrestling champion of the world got me brain-dead drunk, and then poured me into a cab home. He was an excellent guy.

Many of the other good guys on Luce’s undercards were reliable patsies for the baddies. Pepper Gomez, one of the domestic game’s few Mexican stars, was a venerable attraction who was allowed the rare triumph; billed as “the Man with the Cast-Iron Stomach,” he once allowed a Volkswagen Bug to be driven over his gut on Luce’s TV show, where he was a frequent guest.

One of my favorites was Yukon Moose Cholak. Then a veteran of 20 years on the mat, Moose owned a bar not far from the Amphitheatre, but he still worked regularly for his close pal Luce in the AWA. Huge, pot-bellied, and benign, he boasted a ripe Sout’ Side accent rivaled only by Dennis Farina’s. He was hardly an exceptional combatant: He moved around the ring with the fleetness of a dazed sloth. He was a regular on Luce’s show, and often appeared with the host in his TV spots.

The only time I appeared as a guest on All Star Championship Wrestling, Moose was the victim of the on-camera carnage that was a requisite feature of the show. At the time, conflict of interest be damned, I was writing a column about wrestling for a short-lived local sports paper called Fans, and was brought in to lend something like legitimacy to the proceedings. Luce offered me a chair on his threadbare set to push a forthcoming match between Cholak, who appeared on camera next to me, and Handsome Jimmy Valiant, a new heel on the rise in the market.

I figured something ugly was going to happen, but I went about extolling the virtues of Moose’s nearly non-existent mat skills in the front of the camera. Suddenly, Valiant crept up from behind the black scrim behind us and whacked Cholak over the head with a metal folding chair. To this day, I believe my expression of outraged surprise was worthy of a local Emmy, but a nomination eluded me.

I was actually very fond of Valiant, whom I interviewed with his “brother” and tag team partner Luscious John Valiant for Fans. Jimmy was a peroxided, strutting egomaniac in the grand Gorgeous George manner, and he had some classic patter: “I’m da wimmen’s pet and da men’s regret! I got da body wimmen love and men fear! And you, you’re as useful as a screen door in a submarine, daddy!” A rock ‘n’ roll fan, he went on to a very successful solo career, appropriately enough in Memphis, the capital of all things Elvis.

After Gagne the elder, the AWA’s biggest attraction was the tag team of Dick the Bruiser and the Crusher. Bruiser had gotten his competitive start as a linebacker for the Green Bay Packers, but had been a top wrestling draw since 1955. Somewhere along the way, he had been converted from heel to hero, and the Chicago fans adored him. Among the merch sold at the Amphitheatre were Dick the Bruiser Fan Club buttons; measuring six inches in diameter, they could either be pinned on one’s chest or, with the aid of a built-in cardboard stand, be displayed as a plaque. I kept mine on my desk at my straight job to freak out my co-workers.

Early in my gig with Luce, I was taken to meet Bruiser in the locker room. He sat on a table smoking a huge cigar. When I was introduced to him, he exclaimed, “Hey, you’re Ed Morris’ kid? You got more hair than your old man!” My father, who was in fact almost completely bald, had been known to associate with winners of the Nobel and Pulitzer Prizes. I was a little surprised that he ran in Bruiser’s circle.

The Crusher’s career in the squared circle dated back to the late ‘40s. I was even more impressed by him than I was by the Bruiser, for he had been the inspiration of the Novas’ wrasslin’-themed single “The Crusher,” a huge 1965 radio hit in Chicago for the Minnesota garage band the Novas (and later eloquently covered by the Cramps). Bruiser and Crusher were a unique combo: They were “good guys,” but they earned their keep by being badder than the “bad guys” they gutter-stomped.

The villains in that era of pro wrestling were often the object of atavistic xenophobia and hatred. Long before the U.S.’s conflicts in the Middle East, the Sheik (né Ed Farhat in Lansing, Michigan), who took the ring wearing a burnoose, was among the most reviled of heels. Some of the older fans were World War II vets, and they lustily booed Baron von Raschke, who climbed through the ropes with a monocle in one eye, draped in a Nazi flag. He was actually a U.S. Army vet born Jim Raschke in Omaha, Nebraska. His fake German accent was utterly feeble.

The AWA’s all-purpose villain, who would go on to bigger things as one of McMahon’s first WWF stars, was “Pretty Boy” Bobby Heenan, dubbed “the Weasel” by the Bruiser. Heenan was featured in his own matches, but he was most reliably entertaining as a manager, of the most duplicitous and cowardly variety, in another villain’s corner. You didn’t need a script to know what was going to happen: Just as it looked like the good guy was going to triumph, Heenan would leap into the ring and smash the apparent victor’s head into a turnbuckle or hit him over the skull with a water bucket.

Heenan featured in the most outrageous story I heard during my brilliant career in wrestling. One night I was sitting with the film crew when Al Lerner, the mustachioed, shaggy-haired, bespectacled WSNS sports reporter, entered the press box with a portable tape machine on his shoulder and a stunned look on his face. “I’ve interviewed people in front of burning buildings,” Al said. “I’ve interviewed people as they were jumping out of airplanes. But I’ve never interviewed anyone while they were getting a blowjob.”

It seems that while Al was in the locker room recording some audio bites from Heenan, a voluptuous girl standing nearby walked over to the wrestler, kneeled down in front of him, pulled down his trunks, and began giving him the kind of pre-match service Mickey Rourke probably dreamed of but never received. As she went about her business, Heenan continued to spout invective to Al as if nothing extraordinary was transpiring. With that moment alone, Bobby Heenan earned his place in the Professional Wrestling Hall of Fame.

I visited Heenan in the locker room on a somewhat less eventful evening, but that night I learned the secret of many pros’ mat success. As I was talking to him, I noticed that his forehead was crosshatched with tiny scars, some of them new and still livid. I later mentioned this to one of the crew, and was told that these wounds – referred to as “juicing” -- were actually self-inflicted, so that the wrestlers could easily draw blood during critical moments of violence in their matches.

As Heenan said in a later interview, “If you want the green, you gotta bring the red.” Gore was a staple of pro wrestling, and there was nothing like sitting in an arena filled with 10,000 or 15,000 crazed spectators and hearing a drunken chant go up as a good guy pummeled a heel to the mat: “WE WANT BLOOD! WE WANT BLOOD! WE WANT BLOOD!”

My last hurrah in pro wrestling was one of Luce’s rare alfresco promotions, a multi-bout 1974 card at old Comiskey Park, the White Sox’s stadium, which climaxed with a 16-man battle royal. I don’t remember who triumphed in the main event, but I do remember that someone on the crew brought a bat and some softballs along, and we ended the evening shagging fly balls under the lights where Nellie Fox and Luis Aparicio once played.

The outlaw era of regional pro wrestling is a dim memory for most. The racket would get wilder after I left it: In an interview with Nashville wrestling figure Jimmy Cornette, Heenan said that a fan at a 1975 Amphitheatre match pulled out a pistol and began firing at him, but the shooter only managed to wound four people in the rows in front of him.

McMahon’s WWF brought the regional promoters’ day to a close, pillaging most of the big names in the game in the process. Today, the WWE has been displaced in popularity by the even gaudier UFC contests. Most of the stars I met – including Bruiser, Crusher, and Cholak – are dead now. Heenan, a throat cancer survivor, has been in poor health for more than a decade. Verne Gagne died this April; in 2009, suffering from dementia, he accidentally killed a 97-year-old fellow resident in a Minnesota assisted living facility. Even the old stomping grounds are gone: The Chicago Amphitheatre was razed in 1999.

Bob Luce passed away in 2007, but his wild-ass legacy may live on via an unlikely champion. There are many analogs between pro wrestling and rock ‘n’ roll, and this April, mat mega-fan Billy Corgan of Smashing Pumpkins announced on Twitter that he had bought Luce’s memorabilia and an archive of 9,000 vintage wrestling photos. Maybe he and former Hüsker Dü front man Bob Mould, a fellow wrasslin’ aficionado who once worked for McMahon as a writer, can make something of it. That would rock.

6 notes · View notes

5-falsehoods-phonated · 5 years ago

Text

This story takes place during the Sanders Asides Are There Healthy Distractions Episodes, suggested by @heavy-metal-papillon . The idea comes from Logan voicing Deciets line when he pops up to grab his hat from Logan, so in this story Deciet and Logan switched places in the episode.

Switching Sides

Summary: Logan wants some time to himself and Janus wants to enjoy a movie with the other sides in peace. They support and respect eachothers wants and needs, agreeing to switch places for movie night. In doing so, they both gained a bit more than they bargained for.

Warnings: none, but if you see any just say something!

Ships: platonic Lociet, past platonic Anciet

WC: 2, 305

Janus adjusted the his tie one final time, giving himself a once over in the mirror. His hair was combed back smartly, hat tucked away safely in his room for the time being. He had gotten the type right this time, and the white embroidered brain logo stood out against the plain black polo. The stiff dark Jean's were a little uncomfortable but the dress shoes fit nicely so he couldn't complain too much. This had to be perfect, even if it was a somewhat casual setting, he couldn't afford to-

"You know you could've just asked."

Yelping, he whirled around to face the real logical side currently sizing him up with a less than impressed expression. "We aren't discussing anything important today, why are you replacing me again?"

Janus sputtered. "I wasn't!"

Logan's eyebrow raised even more. "So my choice of clothing is just that comfortable, right down to the glasses?"

"...yes."

"Janus."

The deceitful side snapped his head up to glare at the other. "Not so loud! You dont know if one of the others would hear!"

Logan cleared his throat. "No one is left in the mind scape currently except us. Even Remus is currently hiding behind the couch. I assure you no one will overhear us, though of course I will call you Deciet if that would make you more comfortable."

Narrowing his eyes, Janus took a careful step back. "Why aren't you angry at me?"

Logan shrugged. "Why are you disguising yourself to simply watch a movie?"

"Because I-well in case...just in case something comes up that....hes using this to distract himself and that's sort of like lying to yourself so it stands to reason i would want to be there." Satisfied with jus excuse he glared at the other, daring him to argue.

But Logan simply nodded. "I've been meaning to get more work done anyway and would rather do that than watch Roman rig the vote multiple times only to complain about the plot of the movie he picked out. Straighten the tie and be careful."

"Just...just like that? You don't even care?"

"I require time to....gather my thoughts, after the more recent dilemmas Thomas seems insistant on making harder than they should be. Peace and quiet would be nice right now and if you're willing to take my place then I wont argue." Nodding more to himself, Logan reached out to hand him a thermos. "Caffiene helps stave off the inevitable headache. I highly recommend it."

Dumbfounded, Janjs could only clutch the thermos go his chest as he watched the logical trait walk back to his room and quietly shut the door behind him. Something he couldn't quite identify tugged in his chest but he brushed it off quickly and sunk down to the apartment below.

Patton was the first to notice him as he settled down stiffly on the couch, waving excitedly and almost spilling what looked like cocoa all over the floor in the process. Nodding he looked up as Roman began to speak.

"Finally! Now that we have our resident nerd here we can vote." Janus watched curiously as little slips of paper were passed around, narrowing his eyes at the clump that Roman hid in his sleeve but decided not to say anything. He looked over as Thomas cleared his throat, taking the paper offered to him with an excited smile which he quickly dropped in favor of Logans usual impassive expression. He didnt expect to win the vote, but maybe since it was movie night they'd watch all the suggested films to make it fair. He didnt really know how this was supposed to work, Remus and....well, nobody ever watched movies together in the part of the mind he resided in.

Quickly jotting down his selection he waited rather impatiently for the rest to finish, gripping the paper tightly as a hat was passed around.

Wait.

He could only stare as the collection hat got to him. How had they gotten his hat? When did they even get it?....How often did they sneak into his room without him knowing? He wanted so badly to yell, take his hat and sink out, but that wasnt who he was right now.

"Hey L, you good?"

His head snapped up so fast he felt his neck creak. Virgil had never....not for a long time....that tone of voice wasn't for him. Virgil stayed with the "light sides" now, he only showed concern for them. Swallowing around the lump in his throat he reluctantly handed the hat back to Thomas to give back to Roman.

"I'm adequate thank you."

His hand shook slightly as he raised the thermos of coffee to his lips, but if Virgil noticed he didn't say anything.

Swinging his attention back to the current conversation he caught Pattons response to whatever had been said. "...voted for Frozen Roman but I'm still rooting for-"

"Oh my gosh! One hundred percent of the votes went to Frozen!"

He scowled as Patton cheered. "No, fu - falsehood, I did not vote for Frozen!"

"You didn't get a vote because you didnt wear a onesie!"

Taking a preemptive swig of coffee, he mumbled out, "I don't wear those anymore, they're too childish."

"No onesie, no vote, like our founding fathers believed!"

Janus snorted quietly, covering it up with an exasperated sigh as he settled more into couch. While the movie was being set up he glared again at the stolen hat on the floor, bringing out his phone discreetly.

Dee: I know I don't have much right to ask you this, but might I request a favor?

Logan: I assure you it's fine. What do you need?

Surprised at the quick response he continued to type, glancing up every now and again to be sure no one noticed his silence.

Dee: Roman stole my hat somehow, I was wondering if it would be possible cor you to get it back? I know you don't like shifting but I'm not sure how discreet it would be for me to try and get it as you.

Logan: It isn't that I don't like it, I'm just not equipped to be good at it. It does not make logical sense to disguise oneself, therefore I am at a disadvantage when it comes to such things. However, I can replicate your scales if I may have permission to 'raid your wardrobe' so to speak. Only with your permission of course.

Dee: Thank you and it's fine. Just dont go snooping around. You may not like what you find.

Logan: I will not. I have no reason to do anything other than procur clothing and so that is all I will do.

Sighing in relief, Janus settled back somewhat comfortably to watch the movie, letting the other sides' idle chatter wash over him.

----

"Fear will be your enemy."

Janus snuck a glance at Virgil at this line, glancing back away quickly at the look of panic that flashed across the anxious sides face. He wondered if Virgil would ever open up about his true nature....though perhaps until things truly calmed down it was for the best he remained determined to be closed off.

----

He nearly jumped out of his skin as Remus popped up suddenly behind him, clapping his hands at the prospect of Anna and Elsa's parents dying at sea, seemingly completely naked and comfortable enough to showcase go the entire living room. Janus shot him a warning look as Remus peered at him curiously, thanking God that for once Remus seemed content to keep his mouth shut.

----

"Wait, Hans is tricking Anna making her believe hes in love with her, but shes not around...why make that face?" He had watched the movie before of course but now that he had people to discuss it with that weren't making sexual innuendos every other sentence he felt much more comfortable speaking out.

"Yeah your right...."

Janus promptly turned out the rest of Roman's sentence, discreetly entering the date into his phone that Roman had admitted he was right in something, even if he didnt know who he was speaking to.

----

"Do you think this place has a lavatory?"

"Ice toilet!" Patton giggled.

"Or a bed?" Roman countered.

"Ice bed!"

"This place sounds awful." His nature made his blood run colder than normal anyway and the thought of sleeping on a freezing cold bed on top of a mountain surrounded by walls of ice made him very much wish he had in fact worn his onesie.

----

Janus chugged another mouthful of coffee in irritation. "You meddled with the vote to ensure we would watch this and yet you're the one constantly making fun of it."

"Look, this is how I show my love!"

Janus rolled his eyes and settled back into the couch wondering if Roman showed his love this way with the others just as much as he did with his beloved disney films.

----

Janus watched as Virgil voiced his thoughts on the matter that had made them all plan this movie night in the first place. A familiar kind of second hand hurt tugged in his chest while the others' thoughts spiraled further and further, unconsciously blanketing the room with an ever more suffocating blanket of anxiety. He watched as Roman grimaced from across the room, Patton fidgeting in place and gripping his mug ever harder and Thomas dragging fingers through messy hair as Virgil only continued talking faster and faster, becoming more and more worked up as the literal word vomit consumed any rational thoughts left in the room.

"Thomas, Virgil?" He waited calmly as Thomas peeked out from his hands and Virgils panicked face snapped towards him. Pushing down the old familiarity he continued on. "Please do me a favor and name me five things that you can see."

"Staircase." Thomas sighed.

"Impending doom." Virgil quickly countered.

"Olaf."

"A future without friends."

"Lamp!"

"Blinds."

"Pants."

"Now four things you can feel."

"Pants."

"A bad feeling."

"The couch."

"Wall."

"Hair."

"Three you can hear." He smiled in relief as Virgil began to participate more, visibly calming as his mind was brought back to the present.

"Olaf."

"The fan."

"The ice machine for some reason."

Thomas really needed to fix his appliances. "Two things can smell."

"Clean shirt."

"The deodorant Thomas put on because....he was gonna go out tonight."

"And one thing you can taste."

"A sour taste in my mouth probably leftover from those reheated tai noodle leftovers."

Both variably more calm, Janus tried gently explaining the technique he had used, though he knew they both already knew it seemed like a good idea to remind them that they were allowed to use the technique whenever they needed it.

"Thank you, Logan." Thomas breathed out as he leaned forward tiredly.

Janus smiled, going to take another swig of his dwindling coffee when he caught site of a figure dressed in black and yellow on the stairs, nobody having noticed his presence yet.

Allowing himself a smirk behind the thermos, he responded. "No problem. Just your cool teacher being his cool self."

He smiled slightly wider as he heard a quiet scoff from the figure, just loud enough that he could hear it. He hoped Logan didn't think he was making fun of him, this was a rare day where he hadn't lied once around the others.

----

Logan settled quietly on the stairs til the end of the movie, seeming content to join them quietly until Roman brought Janus' hat back out.

After they had discussed the movie's ending, with Virgils anxious thoughts still persisting, he realized they needed to do something else that more actively distracted them all from the situation. As Roman brought out his hat to vote on another activity Logan stepped in quickly, Virgil hissing at him much to Janus' amusement while Logan snatched his hat back without a glance in his direction.

"I was looking for this! Don't touch my shit!" Janus bit his lip hard to keep from busting out laughing at the reality of Logan swearing at Roman for him, a warm feeling enveloping him as the others continued with whatever conversgion they had moved on to. His focus came back as the ending of some kind of Frozen fix it fanfiction was being discussed, making it very hard not to feel smug as his suggested was acted upon and Thomas definitely seemed happier than he had previously. Not being needed for whatever ridiculous story was sure go come out he sunk back down into the mind scape, startling slightly when he appeared right next to Logan who was currently fixing a spare tie as he left Janus' room.

"Ah, you're back. I left your hat on the bedside where I assume it was taken in the first place. I'm the future know that with a little concentration we are able to keep certain sides out of our rooms. I would suggest you utilize this to prevent future thievery."

Janus shook off his disguise and held out the stolen tie. "Thank you...for letting me, well you didn't have to allow me to ho in your stead. I....appreciate the trust."

"Keep it." Logan gestured to the tie before turning away. "Just in case."

Janjs watched in confusion as Logan returned to his room to lock himself away again, finally sighing and turning to his own. Smiling a little he laid the tie carefully in a drawer before plunking his hat back on his head, shoulders sagging in relief at the familiarity.

It was nice to pretend to be someone else and talk with fake friends. But maybe, in allowing himself vulnerability, he had found himself another real one.

This work is also available on AO3!

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fic #lociet #logan sanders #deciet sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #ao3

46 notes · View notes

anxiouslyfred · 4 years ago

Text

Love After Exile - Games Night

Authors Note: I’ve reached the penultimate part or at least that’s what I think this will be. Really I just thought Virgil needed a little more time and I wanted to enjoy writing this for a bit longer so we got a more chilled out chapter.

Summary: Virgil loved Remus and Deceit long before they fell out. Now he’s dating Logan after beginning to recognise similar feelings. Deceit continues bonding with Virgil a bit more and Logan worries over when the offer will be repeated.

Formatting: There’s a shifting POV, anytime you see Bold starts of a paragraph then there’s been a perspective shift.

Pairings: Analogical from the start, eventual Analoceitmus

Warnings for this part: none that I can think of

/\/\/\/\/\ Part One /\ Part Two /\/\ Part Three /\/\Part Four /\/\ Part Five /\/\ Part Six /\/\ Part Seven /\/\/\/\

They had sat sewing and mending clothes together. There had been afternoons where they would just watch films together. They had cooked at least one meal together each day this week.

Now Deceit was running out of ways to spend time with Virgil.

He knew it would take time and that talking was really the best way to build the trust up once more but when Virgil still looked cautious when recognising him outside his room it felt a little hopeless. He still wasn't sure if the compliments he wanted to say would help or harm the rebuilding of their friendship.

"I want to move the webs and change the curtains in my room. Can you help please?" Virgil had asked it as Dee was leaving the living room but as there were no other sides around it could only be directed at him.

He found hope was in the quiet request as he paused. "Of course I'll help." Deceit nodded waving up the stairs. "Do you have new curtains ready?"

"Remus gave me some yesterday. Why haven't you joined us when we're playing board games?" Virgil seemed hesitant to ask, hunching further in to his hoodie even as he stood.

Dee had been told about the games nights, under the impression that Remus had crashed one where Logan and Virgil had been playing chess and slowly found games for more people would be included. There had been no invitations beyond Remus occasionally saying that he should join them.

"I didn't want to intrude." he offered as an explanation, already turning away to hide the flush he felt at the invite actually being real. "I'll come to the next one if you truly wish for me to join."

There was no response to that beyond the feeling of being watched as they climbed the stairs. That was fine, before mistakes broke their friendship it had been a regular sensation for Dee.

Virgil was shocked at the idea Deceit had thought something Remus had been welcomed into wouldn't also include him, especially after the time they'd spent hanging out one on one. Even if he wasn't ready to trust the pair fully he wanted to let them have the chance to build it again.

"Why wouldn't you have been invited? The only reason we played the games night in Logan's room was because neither Roman or Patton enjoy the games we prefer." he asked, realising that probably Remus hadn't understood it was a game night anyone could join.

"You never talk about game nights being date nights at all." Only Deceit could get those levels of sarcasm in his words and Virgil wanted to smile at hearing it used over something as frivolous as a game night.

Still he shook his head, "Wouldn't you when nobody else was joining them? Neither of us have called them that since Remus joined us. Why not come join us?"

"I'll think about it but for now what are we changing or should we swap the curtains first then swap the decorations to match?" Accepting the change of subject was easy. Virgil could tell there'd be 4 people at game night whether an actual agreement was given or not.

Logan was sure that sooner rather than later Deceit and Remus would repeat their offer to date himself and Virgil. The only thing to contradict his reasoning was the amount of time and attention they had taken since the original offer.

"Dee is coming to our game night tomorrow." Virgil stated with a certainty that none of the light sides could have when talking about Deceit. Logan could only hope that as they got to know him better he'd be able to have that certainty as well.

Instead he just nodded, mentally preparing to have 2 more boyfriends by the end of the game night. Struggling to identify emotions was somewhat of a hindrance to romance and he knew that while Virgil understood it could take time, Remus and Deceit appeared too emotive to thrive without their exuberance being returned.

"So should we attempt some team games where we can pair up?" he suggested hoping that working as a team with either of the others might help him understand them a little better and give them the chance to know him better.

Virgil snickered. "I was thinking we start with monopoly so you can hear the rants the premise of that game runs off and then choose games all together." he suggested instead making Logan pause and think.

Of course Deceit would have some strong views about a game that was essentially capitalism: the role play.

Deceit could already hear Virgil snickering with Remus as he entered the room for games night to see a familiar board game already set up to play minus the players pieces.

"I thought we were meant to have a relaxing evening of playing games not a celebration of capitalisms control?" He asked, hoping not to get frustrated enough to upset anyone as quickly as monopoly usually did.

"Well I have been attempting to convince these two to play the original version of the game which was actually meant to demonstrate how building a community together is better than the mere money hoarding simulation that commercialism made monopoly into but they say that we must follow the rules in the box." Logan's sigh had Dee smiling for a moment. Perhaps he would not be alone in criticising the game tonight.

An hour after the game night had begun and Anxiety was torn between laughter at the ongoing argument over the merits and flaws over monopoly or backing away to find somewhere quieter given how loud Logan and Deceit had both become.

He hadn't quite realised when suggesting the game that while Logic and Deceit were both critical of the game their reasons were contrary to each other a lot of the time.

A glance to the forth member of the game showed Remus rapidly losing interest in playing all four pieces by himself as he'd taken over when the argument bored him.

"Hey Ree, want to team up to defeat these guys in battleship?" Virgil asked, promptly getting quiet as everyone somehow heard him over their own voices. At least it saved him using tempest tongue for the evening.

"We've not finished playing monopoly yet." Logan protested, amusing Virgil as he turned back to the board only to blink in confusion at it.

Remus was also smirking at the action. "It's the hats turn if you're going to start playing with me again."

"When exactly did you decide we didn't need to take our owns turns?" Dee sighed, too used to Remus to be shocked.

"I suggested it 15 minutes ago when your debate showed no signs of slowing. Now battleship. Remus and me against you two and if you correct grammar you miss a turn." Virgil cut in again, already standing to fetch the game. "Some teamwork between Logic and Deceit could help us all if you can manage it." the dig was a little underhanded but if it got the outcome Virgil wanted he was willing to use it. That outcome was more over some quiet while they played the next game more than the game they played.

Remus just cackled a little, "You know I'm always up to play with you any way you like, Batty-V."

"I'm sure Logan will have the best tactics for how we play and we'll defeat you." Dee's statement had Virgil biting his lip watching Logan's expression flip between flattered and wanting to correct the presumption. They'd already learnt that Remus would avoid a lot of tactics just by following his momentary impulses, and with Anxiety helping they could be a fierce opponent in games like battleship.

"Let's just get set up." The agreement seemed to be all Logan could think of to respond, taking their battle station from Virgil when he held it out.

Battleship did help Logan understand Deceit better but by the end of the evening he was blinking through the door in confusion.

"Okay what didn't happen how you expected it to?" Turning around Virgil was watching him with some concern in his expression.

He shook his head for a moment, figuring out the right phrase to use. "I was certain that they'd repeat their request to date us given how much time has passed, spent getting closer to us and reconciling with you."

"Is there a factor you failed to consider?" Virgil asked instead of offering any suggestions of his own.

It was enough to get Logan listing the Variables that impact human responses. "Well Deceit has only spent considerable time with yourself so there's a chance he wants to know me better as well before repeating the offer." It was the first one to come to mind but more were appearing as he spoke. There was only really the need to voice one concern, considering some of them had the possibility of increasing Virgil's anxiety.

"I'm happy to have a bit longer to see how they interact with us without a relationship but if you would prefer to date them now we can bring it up ourselves?" Logan could see the apprehension in Virgil's face at the idea.

It reminded him over just why the other sides would take their time to repeat any wish to date Virgil.

"Then we'll wait until you are ready to bring it up with Dee and Remus. Your comfort and happiness is my priority here, Virgil." he agreed, soothing the concerns he could imagine going through his boyfriends head in that moment.

Tags: @cheshiren @book-of-charlie

/\/\/\ Part Nine /\/\/\/\

#Analogical #dukeceit #analoceitmus #virgil sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders #Janus Sanders

13 notes · View notes

tiny-anxious-mess · 5 years ago

Text

Dress to Impress

Summary: It’s date night for Logan and Roman. Logan searches for something to wear and instead finds a dress, some self-doubt, and a whole lot of love. (Human AU)

Pairings: Logan/Roman, Logince

Warnings: A few swears, kissing (though its nothing heated or anything), and some self-doubt and insecurity from Logan

Notes: second story!! thank you for all of the lovely comments on my first story, every single one makes my day! this fic was inspired by all the lovely fanart ive seen of all the different sides in dresses and i felt like writing something romantic so who better to pair logan with than the prince himself? haha hope yall enjoy this!

***

It wasn’t that Logan was nervous, he was just... hesitant.

It was date night and a date might entail looking good. Roman would say that Logan always looked good, but you couldn’t fault Logan for putting in an effort.

But tonight was different.

There was a meteor shower tonight and Logan wasn’t about to miss a second of it. Roman had tried to surprise him by scheduling their monthly date night on that night, but Logan was already one step ahead. He had a picnic basket and everything.

The night wasn’t the problem; he wasn’t hesitating because of the night or the date or the anything.

It was internal. He knew that; he had enough self-awareness for that, no matter his struggle with other such emotions.

He wanted to be comfortable for the night. They would be there long and it was supposed to be a warm night. And so he looked through his wardrobe and looked and looked and looked and—

Here was his problem.

Right in front of his was a dress.

It didn’t come as a surprise to him to find it; he had bought it himself ages ago, though he never had the right chance to wear it. But tonight presented to perfect opportunity to wear it.

And therein lied the catch.

It wasn’t that he was insecure or that he didn’t have the confidence to wear the dress out, it was just that... well, he had never worn something like it out with Roman.

Playing around with his clothing was nothing new—college had been an exciting time to mess around with it all. But as he grew a few years older, it was something that fell to the side. He dressed practically and appropriately depending on the situation. He rarely, for lack of a better term, dressed up just because he wanted to.

But now there was the dress and the date and Logan didn’t know what to do.

It’d be easy just to slip it on and go out. It was nothing fancy, just a short-sleeved sundress. It was practical, he told himself as he picked it up. It’s going to be warm out and this is nice and light and—it’s practical.

He didn’t understand why he was so hesitant. He wasn’t afraid of what other people said, he wasn’t afraid of himself. He just...

Roman had never seen him in a dress.

Hell, Roman had never seen him in anything other than pants and a shirt, what he normally wore. He had never seen the photos of Logan and Virgil, an old college friend, in drag for that one night after finals. He had never seen the makeup Logan kept in a bag in his bottom desk drawer. He had never seen Logan as anything other than Logan.

Not that he wouldn’t be Logan in the dress; of course he’d still be Logan. He’d just be Logan in a dress and that... that made him hesitate.

He won’t hate you for this, Logan reminded himself. There’s no reason to think that he would so don’t think about it. He loves you now and so he’ll love you tonight, dress or not. It’s illogical to think of the negative outcomes. You can’t predict the future; or at least, none of his past behavior is relevant; he’s given no indicators that he might react negatively to you in a dress.

Logan sighed heavily, squeezing the dress in his hands. He placed it down and reached for his phone, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

He pulled up Virgil’s contact.

Me: Virgil, sorry if I am interrupting something, but once you get the chance, remind what is the breathing technique you use to calm yourself down. I am... in need of some assistance.

Virgil: Nah you’re not interrupting anything b. I use the 4-7-8 breathing thing but it could be different for you. nothing is exactly guaranteed to work for any single person

Me: Thank you.

Virgil: Is everything alright? you’re usually the one helping me with breathing

Me: I am fine, just... I’m second-guessing myself and it is unnecessary. I simply need to ground myself for a moment.

Virgil: what are you nervous about?

Me: I’m not nervous, just hesitant.

Virgil: sure Jan, talk to me

Me: Mm. I just. Roman and I are going to the open field down the street for the meteor shower. I was looking for what to wear, seeing as it's supposed to be warm tonight, and came across a dress I bought a few months ago. I think it’s practically that I wear it but I. I’m being ridiculous and am second-guessing myself.

Virgil: Oh okay well relax roman is gonna drop dead when he sees you in the dress, its the blue one yeah?

Me: Yes. And I am perfectly relaxed. I am cool. I am chilled.

Virgil: why must you torture me this way?

Me: I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.

Virgil: how the hell can you sound smug through text?? anyway roman will adore the dress and you and if he doesn't, ill fight him

Me: Violence is not necessary but the intent behind the action is much appreciated, Virgil. Thank you.

Virgil: no problem man, text me if you need anything or a hitman!!

Me: You’ve been hanging out with Remus, haven’t you?

Virgil: only when I'm willing to risk my sanity!!!!!!

Logan sighed again, putting down his phone. It was pointless to torture himself any further.

He stood up, grabbing the dress once again and moving towards the bathroom.

Time to get dressed.

***

Logan and Roman arrived separately. Roman had to drive home from work and then to the field. Logan was already there, ten minutes early, with the picnic basket, blanket, telescope, books, and journal for the night.

He sat on the blanket, tugging on the hem of the dress. It would be fine, he told himself. He had nothing to worry about other than getting mauled by a bear.

He rolled his eyes at himself. God, now I sound like Virgil.

He shook his head, forcing himself to shake off his doubts. It would be fine, it was just him and Roman and the stars. He didn’t need to think about anything else.

And yet when he saw Roman’s car pull up next to his a few yards away, his heartbeat quickened.

Logan breathed in—one, two, three, four—held it—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven—and then out—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

He stood, smoothing down his dress, and began towards Roman.

The man in question got out of his car, a bouquet of flowers in hand. Logan was able to identify roses, primroses, and red camellias. It was a rather beautiful arrangement; Logan could tell Roman had done it himself. He always insisted on carrying out his romantic gestures on his own.

Roman beamed when he saw Logan but it wasn’t until he used the flashlight on his phone that he reacted.

He paused then fully stopped. His mouth gaped, lips apart in an “o” formation. The flowers previously held closer up to his chest fell with his hand, now held loosely by his side.

Logan bit the inside of his cheek and reached up to readjust his glasses. He cleared his throat, saying, “Hi.”

God, “Hi”? Really, that’s all I can think of?

“H-Hi,” Roman stuttered. Even in the darkness, Logan could see the color in his cheeks, at the bridge of his nose.

“Ready?” Logan asked, wishing to fill the silence.

Roman blinked multiple times, eyes flickering over Logan before he swallowed and nodded. “I-I, um, yeah--yes! Yes, I’m ready!” he exclaimed, cheeks flushing fully this time. Then he paused and thrusted out the flowers. “Here! They’re for you! Of course, they’re for you; I didn’t exactly plan on doing anything else tonight and even if I was, I certainly wouldn’t be getting them flowers. Unless it was someone like my mom or mama, or--”

Logan walked forward, took the flowers, and kissed him.

Roman followed with no hesitation. He reached up to cup Logan’s face, lips quirking up ever so slightly when Logan turned his face into Roman’s palm.

They parted, lingering. “You look amazing,” Roman murmured against Logan’s lips. “Completely left me speechless.”

Logan snorted, smiling. “You had plenty of words, they were just jumbled,” he said quietly.

“That’s what you do to me,” Roman said. “Leave me all scrambled. It’s rude to deprive a poet of his words.”

“I never deprived you of anything.” They had begun to sway back and forth, rocking in each other's arms, still just barely parted.

“Oh please,” Roman scoffed, lips quirking again. He pulled back just enough to meet Logan’s eyes, gaze hooded and warm. “I could have a whole soliloquy written and memorized, and suddenly I see you and my thoughts fall to the side, my mouth goes dry, and all I can see is you. You, only you; you standing, sitting, humming, speaking, studying, laughing, smiling. You, just you; it’s enough to make me speechless. Enough to make me stop and stare. You’ve bewitched me and yet you are the cure.”

Logan was no good with emotions, even less so with translating them well into the words. Roman made it seem so easy. But Logan didn’t need to match Roman’s talent beat for beat.

Logan pressed a quick peck to Roman’s lips before resting his forehead against Roman’s. “I love you,” he whispered because he didn’t say those words a lot--perhaps not often enough--but he meant them every time he said it.

“I love you too.” The words sounded sweet from Roman, ringing orange and pink like a sunset in Logan’s mind.

Logan’s hand met and grasped Roman’s. “Shall we?” he asked, leaning back towards the field.

Roman smiled--and he says I make him speechless, Logan thought--and squeezed his hand, bringing it up to his lips, sealing the night with one final kiss.

“Let’s.”

#logan sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides #logince #sanders sides fic #toph writes #virgil sanders

140 notes · View notes

ironwoman18 · 5 years ago

Text

The Worst Third Date Ever part 26

Chapter 26: To Rome with love

After Spencer and Max cut the cake, his mother had to go so Will offered to take her and the nurse back.

Spencer kissed his mother's cheek and hugged her "I will see you when we arrive from our honeymoon" he promised.

"Ok sweetheart. Enjoy" she patted his cheek then turned to Max "I'm so happy my boy met a woman like you. Take care of him" she nodded and hugged her now mother-in-law.

"Thanks for coming and I will keep him out of troubles" she smirked at her and Diana laughed softly and hugged Max.

"Good night" then she left waving her hand.

Spencer held Max's hand and turned to talk with Hotch.

"So what are you doing beside be a father?"

"Well I'm working as a lawyer. But only for legal consulting and some fathers wanted me to be coach again of the football team again"

"You did a great job when you were Jack's coach" said Spencer.

Hotch laughed "it was when Jack was little. Right now his league is more competitive and it will be harder to deal with the pressure"

"Oh come on you can handle the pressure" commented Spencer when he felt a hand on his arm and when he turned he saw Henry with Sammy and Jack "hey kids what's up?"

"Uncle Spence" said Henry "Jake, David, Chloe and Lily don't believe you can do magic" he continued "so we want you to go and show them" Spencer smiled as the other two kids nodded.

"Ok, do you have the card?" He asked Sammy. The redheaded kid nodded.

"Yes and they are new, I haven't open them" Max bit her lip holding a laugh as her nephew talked excited.

"Excellent. Let's go" he looked at his wife and former chief then left to the rest of the kids.

JJ and Matt joined Hotch and Max.

"That's the cutest thing ever" said Max looking as Spencer interacted with the kids.

"He always is like that with the kids" commented JJ "I remember been here with Hotch watching as he did some magic tricks to Henry and Jack"

"Or his physic magic" added Hotch.

They laughed at Chloe's face when he pulled a card out of her ear "I'm sure tonight she will ask me to check her ears for more cards" that made everyone laughed more.

"Hey... I think you should go change to leave for your first night as a married couple" said JJ wagging her eyebrows.

Max smirked and the other two men cleared their throat "oh come on Matt, its not like you haven't do it five times to make those cuties" the Asian man laughed "I'm watching Spencer playing with kids and I enjoy it. So we can wait a little more"

JJ smiled watching as Spencer doing more magic tricks to the kids and they laughed and have a good time.

When he ran out of tricks he left them still wondering how he did them. Spencer walked to Max and the parents of his young audience.

"Congratulations baby, you did an excellent show" she kissed him cheek then held his hand "but we have to go. My family booked a hotel for us with a limousine included"

"That's amazing" he laughed and she nodded and the couple left to change their clothes.

Meanwhile Derek walked to Luke and tapped on his shoulder, when turned Derek said "so you are dating my baby girl, right?"

"Hmm we just had a few dates" said Luke looking at Derek a little nervous and confused.

"Look she is like my little sister, threat her like the princess she is. Am I clear?" Luke nodded.

"Of course, we had a hard started but we ended up understanding each other and when she wasn't my coworker anymore, I asked her to go on a date"

"Great. I like how she is around you. I saw her dancing and having fun and she seemed relax and comfortable. I'm glad she found a nice guy to date"

"Thank you Derek. I know you and her were really close and I will do my best to keep her happy"

"Great man now go with her because I can see she is dying to know what I'm saying to you" Derek winked at her and Luke laughed walking to her.

After that the newlyweds walks out the house. Max was wearing some black pants and a purple shirt and Spencer a white shirt and dark blue pants.

"Well family and friends. Thank you for coming. This was an amazing evening and I just hope we can share more happy memories with all of you" said Max and everyone clapped "we love you all"

All the people clapped again then Max and Spencer left the Rossi house with their suitcases and found the limousine her family rented. The man opened the door for them and put the cases in the trunk then closed their door.

Inside there was an bucket with ice and a bottle of champagne, next to it were two cups and a note.

She held the note while he opened the bottle.

"Dear Max and Spencer Reid" she smiles at that "first of all, Congratulations! You deserve each other and I couldn't be more proud of calling Spencer my son." she looked at him and he smiled "to celebrate this big night. Michelle, Eloise and me decided to book you a room in a good hotel here in DC. The hotel has a full day with all the food and drinks include and a gift for the newlywed couples. Hope you enjoy it. Loves. The Brenner Family"

"That's so sweet of them" Spencer handed her a cup of champagne and kissed her forehead "I think that will be pretty cool" he looked at her.

"Yeah... and we did the same to Michelle when she got married. Because my parents decided to give us something nice with their savings on our wedding day" she hugged him "they did it with Michelle and start saving for me but I didn't want to get married" she looked up at him "I didn't like the compromise and marry is the biggest of all" she laughed.

"And why did you accept my proposal?" He asked looking at her curious.

"Because I realized I wanted that compromise with you. You're decent, kind and a gentleman and of course very handsome. So I thought... I'm truly in love and I want him to be mine" he smiled and kissed her with passion and love.

"I love you and I never was good to express my feelings but with you its easy" he smiled "so I guess we are perfect for each other"

"I'm agree" she laughed and clinked her cup against his and they drink some more.

When they got to the hotel the driver opened the door again and the couple walked out, then he handed their cases and they walked in the hotel lobby. They talked to the receptionist.

The reservation was made with Spencer Reid's name. The man put around their wrist a bracelet that identified them as part of the full day plan.

"And we know tonight was your wedding so we left some presents in the suite also tonight your dinner will be on us in our fancy restaurant. Congratulations and enjoy" she smiled at the couple, they smiled and thanked her then left to their room.

Spencer and Max walked to the elevator holding hands and looking around the hotel. It was a nice one and it looked expensive.

"I guess your negatives to get married had made your family budget growth a lot" teased him and she punched him softly.

"Mean..." she smirked as they got into the elevator. Their room is on the 10th floor so theirs a long way up "but I guess you are right" she leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Rossi gave us two tickets to go to Rome for our honeymoon"

"Really?" He nodded "that's a great gift. I love Roman architecture oh and the Vatican... I'm drooling right now just thinking about it" he laughed.

"We will need to find some tours because I heard that you can spend hours in the lines"

"Ok we can book some tours around the city and we need to make a reservation for the hotel. Damn... Rossi should tell us yesterday"

"Yeah I am agree but don't worry. I think it's not too crowded these days so if we do the reservation tomorrow. I think we will find a good hotel"

"I hope so" she said as the elevator arrived to their floor. They searched for their room and when they found it. He used the key and walked in.

The room was beautiful with a huge bed. They had a beautiful view of the city. There was a jacuzzi and a big bathtub.

She got into the bathroom after checking out the bedroom. Their presents were flowers, fruit, a little box with chocolate and a bottle of champagne in the mini fridge.

She got out of the bathroom using a sexy black satin lingerie sleepwear lace babydoll nightwear features deep v neck, lace patchwork at neckline, side and hemline, with adjustable shoulder straps, and special floral lace halter neck.

Spencer looked at her in shock and his jaw dropped as she walked to him. She laughed softly watching her husband's face "it was Penelope's present" she sat on his lap "I will thanked her when we have that double date she wants" they kissed passionate and they made love that night.

That night was different from their other times together, maybe the married experience made it more epic or was just a silly thought but something felt different.

They fell asleep in each other's arms until the next day.

They decided to spend the morning at the pool. She even convinced him to swim with her in the pool.

They went up to take a shower and they decided to call for room service, he ordered as she checked some hotels on her phone.

"So did you find something good Mrs. Reed?" Asked him laying next to her.

She smirked and turned to him "yes I did Dr. Reed" she moved to lay her head on his chest "this hotel looks nice and it's not too expensive. Besides we just need a place to sleep cause we will be out almost all day"

"Yeah but yet try to find one with good conditions" she laughed.

"Ok this one is" she checked the information and read it our loud.

"Yes I approve it" she nodded and booked it for a week. Then they checked the tours.

She liked one to the Coliseum and other historic places. She also wanted to check the museums and of course the Sistine Chapel. He suggested some other attractions they could check.

She booked some nice tours "oh Spencie..." she looked at him and he rolled his eyes playfully "we must go to the Fontana di Trevi and toss a coin in then make a wish"

"I know the story. Not like I believe but I'll do it for you" she smiled at him and kisses his cheek.

"I love your scepticism" she hugged him tight "do you want to see anything else around the city?" He shakes his head "ok we have some nice tours booked and also we need to try the proper Italian food" he nodded and then their food arrived.

They ate and then they laid in bed hugging and slept some after food.

At night they change to go to the restaurant of the hotels they ate and they dance. There were other couples in the restaurant enjoying everything.

They headed back to their room and after another heated moment on bed they felt asleep until the next day and after breakfast they left in a taxi.

He got his suitcase with some clothes for a week and left space for some extra things. Then he drove to her apartment and got her clothes. They headed to the airport and check in to their flight which will leave at 6pm.

OOooOOooOO

That's all for now. I will look for some nice places to visit. Of course the emblematic places of Rome. I will check the distance to other cities so they can visit more places. Hope you liked it.

Comments what you thought. I had been trying to keep a good writing pace but these two last chapters took some more effort.

#spencer reid #criminal mind #maxine brenner #maxcer #fanfiction

3 notes · View notes

theresneverenoughfandoms · 6 years ago

Text

Sanders Unsolved - ch. 1

Okay I admit it, I’m trash, but the second I saw the ‘Ghost Hunting’ prompt on @sanderssidesspook ‘s Spooky Month prompt list, I KNEW I had to go with my favourite Sanders Sides AU ever, Logan and Virgil x Buzzfeed Unsolved

Also, as a fun twist, I’m combining two of the prompts and adding ‘Ghost!Sides’ to the mix! So without further ado, Sanders Unsolved!

Word Count: 5,566

Pairings: Romantic Analogical, Romantic Royality

Warnings: talk of major homophobia, talk of murder, swearing, one use of a dated and offensive term for homosexuals, general spookiness

---

“This week on Sanders Unsolved we’re investigating the remains of the mysterious Lovell manor near what is now Riverside, California as part of our ongoing investigation into the question, are ghosts real?” Virgil recited in his signature rich tones as Logan shook his head beside him, exasperated. However, it was quite difficult to remain straight-faced as he heard the subtle excitement in his husband’s voice. Logan and Virgil began bantering easily as the latter told the story that had led them to visit the supposedly haunted locale.

The manor was built in the early 1800′s and belonged to a wealthy aristocrat named Roman Lovell. Lovell lived his life apparently doing all he could to be as adored as possible, from writing and starring in local theatre productions to donating to practically every existing charity and orphanage in western America at the time. All this philanthropy, however, had disastrous consequences for Lovell. Eyes were on the man at almost all times and people began to notice a strange pattern emerging. Lovell had many servants to maintain his estate including a jovial young man named Patton Woodward, a gardener. Despite his duties assumedly being mainly outdoors, Woodward regularly entered the house and did not leave until hours later. Eventually, a curious reporter trespassed onto Lovell’s grounds and supposedly caught a glimpse of Lovell and Woodward waltzing together through an uncovered window. An article written by that reporter was in a prominent place in the next day’s paper and the rumour quickly spread. Roman Lovell was a sodomite. Tragically, soon after the article was published, both Lovell and Woodward’s bodies were found broken and bloodied in Lovell’s home. Their murderer was never identified.

“The devastating events that took place in this mansion have had many believers wondering if perhaps the disgruntled spirits of Roman Lovell and Patton Woodward remain, desperate for revenge. Tonight, we aim to find out.”

After the two finished filming the exposition, Logan went and turned off the camera, preparing to move farther into the house. As he disassembled the tripod, he glanced around their current location. They had set up in the main foyer of the old mansion. Two grand staircases mirrored each other on either side of the room and a massive chandelier, dusty and neglected, hung above their heads. Roman Lovell had certainly had a flair for the dramatic.

“Where are we searching first?” Virgil looked up from checking the ghost-hunting equipment and thought for a moment.

“We’ll start with the less haunted areas of the house and work our way up so I’m thinking we go kitchen and dining hall, library, and the master bedroom first. Then we can check out the gardens and the ballroom, which are the most active parts of the estate.”

“Yes, because any part of a building that has been abandoned for over 100 years can be called ‘active’.” Logan quipped, earning him a withering glare from Virgil. The two laughed as they picked up the equipment and made their way to the dining hall.

---

“It is now...” Virgil checked his digital watch, which shone a dim light onto his face in the darkness, “1:27 AM and we are heading outside to visit the gardens. The gardens are supposedly one of the most spiritually active locations on the grounds. Multiple visitors and paranormal investigators have reported seeing the figure of an adult man wandering the rows of plants. He has been described as wearing clothing appropriate for the serving class in the mid-1800s. Could this be the lost spirit of Patton Woodward?”

Logan held the camera steadily as Virgil ‘hyped up’ the audience. (He truly didn’t understand the terms his husband used sometimes). The biting cold wind rushed through the duo’s hair as they exited the house and walked towards where the gardens once flourished. Something crunched under Virgil’s shoe as they arrived and he glanced down to see delicate frost coating the grass.

“Logan?”

“Yes?”

“Are you seeing the frost on the ground?” Logan raised an eyebrow but his eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise when he too saw the frost.

“Well...it is a rather chilly night.” He reasoned, placing a steady hand on Virgil’s arm to try and reassure him.

“In June?”

“It happens.”

“In California?” Virgil cried, exasperated. Before Logan could attempt to rationalize the situation further, another gust of wind slammed into them and the two men stumbled. Logan’s hand fell from Virgil’s arm and he closed his eyes to protect them from the sudden force. When he opened his eyes again, their surroundings seemed much darker somehow. Thankfully, he was able to make out Virgil’s shadowy silhouette about 10 feet in front of him.

“Virgil, are you alright?” An unsettling feeling gnawed at his gut when he received no response.

“Virgil?” He called again, stepping closer to his husband. Reaching out slowly, his fingers gently brushed the figure’s shoulder. He had expected to feel the familiar texture of Virgil’s well-worn hoodie and was chilled to his core when he realized that whoever this was, it was not Virgil.

The stranger before him slowly turned around and paralyzing, irrational fear gripped Logan’s chest when he saw his eyes, which were glowing an ethereal sky blue.

---

Shit shit shit shit shit shit. Virgil was practically vibrating with fear as he glanced around his new location. No longer was he outside in the gardens. A vaulted ceiling stretched into the darkness above him and muted moonlight shone through the towering windows set into the right wall. No doubt about it, he had somehow been magically fucking transported into the ballroom. The most haunted part of the entire house.

And Logan was nowhere to be seen.

Swivelling his head around, Virgil attempted to locate the door. Panic coursed through his veins when he realized it was on the other side of the ballroom.

“What are the chances that I walk across the room and nothing awful happens to me?” He muttered, checking to see if the Go-Pro attached to his chest was still filming. If he was gonna die, he was gonna do it catching some ghosts on tape damn it.

“I must say, the chances are remarkably slim.” A voice echoed through the cavernous space. Virgil tensed as a thick, red-tinged fog rolled into the room and began taking the shape of...something...in the center of the floor. The candles mounted on the walls flared to life and the fog suddenly fell away, revealing what appeared to be a man wearing a luxurious red dressing gown.

A scream became stuck in Virgil’s throat and he stumbled backwards when the figure’s eyes snapped open, both of them glowing a terrifying blood red.

---

“Please, don’t be afraid. It was not my intention to startle you.” The blue-eyed man held up his hands as if to prove to Logan that he was unarmed. Slowly, Logan nodded, his mind racing. Finding Virgil was his top priority, but first, he had to deal with whoever was now standing with him.

“It’s quite all right, no harm done.” The stranger grinned, evidently pleased with the response.

“My name is Patton Woodward, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Logan blinked, momentarily stunned, before near-hysterical laughter spilled from his lips. Immediately, he attempted to stifle the sound with his hand but to no avail. Between laughs, he began frantically apologizing.

“I’m sorry. This is incredibly rude of me. I don’t mean to be disrespectful. It’s just...you must be kidding? Patton Woodward has been dead for over 150 years.” The man smiled tightly and a glint of annoyance quite literally flashed in his blue eyes.

“You’re right, I have been dead for over 150 years. And I must say, it is quite rude to comment on an individual’s deceased state when they are standing directly in front of you.” Logan took a few steadying breaths and fear swirled in his gut. As inconceivable as the situation seemed, he could not disregard what he was seeing simply because he didn’t want to believe it. A man appears out of nowhere, has legitimately glowing eyes and possibly a quick temper? Ghost or not, Logan had to be cautious.

“My sincerest apologies. I really didn’t mean to offend you. I am just having trouble believing what I’m hearing. You must understand, I don’t-” His brow furrowed momentarily. “I didn’t believe in any of...this until this exact moment. I am, however, willing to admit to my mistakes. I hope you are able to forgive my disrespect?” Please oh please let this...ghost be benevolent. A moment of tense silence passed between the two before Patton’s smile softened.

“I suppose that is understandable. I too would be distressed if I had met a talking human spirit while I was alive. I accept your apology.” A breath Logan didn’t know he had been holding rushed out of his lungs.

“Thank you...may I call you Patton or would you prefer Mr. Woodward?” Patton laughed good-naturedly at the living man’s nervousness.

“You may call me Patton. May I ask what your name is?”

“My name is Logan Sanders. You can call me Logan if you’d like.”

“Wonderful! Well then Logan, as I said, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Logan nodded in acknowledgement. Now that the situation had been effectively defused, he decided to dig a little further to try and determine what had happened to Virgil. “Patton, would you happen to know where the man accompanying me went?” A tendril of fear tightened in his chest when Patton glanced away guiltily.

“I...he...I don’t know where he could have gone.” Well clearly that was a lie, the...ghost had practically flinched while saying it. But pressing him would likely lead nowhere good. Logan had to change tactics.

“Well, that’s understandable. The property is so large, how could anyone be expected to guess where one person could possibly be? There are simply too many options. It is honestly very impressive that anyone is able to navigate the house at all. Oh, but what am I saying? Of course, you must be able to.” He chuckled.

“On the contrary, I spend most of my time outdoors. However, Rom-Mr. Lovell can traverse almost the entire house with his eyes covered. Which he has indeed attempted to do before.” Patton muttered the last part softly, a glint of nostalgia appearing in his eyes.

“You seem to be quite fond of this Mr. Lovell.” Logan commented lightly, determined to learn as much as possible about this man before he decided on a course of action. Unfortunately, this had evidently been the incorrect thing to say as Patton’s gentle expression tightened immediately and the easy smile he had been wearing dropped from his face.

“He is a remarkable man, and it was an honour to work for him.” He said stiffly. Logan raised an eyebrow at the change in tone.

“Forgive me for asking but, does that mean that it’s no longer an honour?” Patton tilted his chin upwards slightly and narrowed his eyes.

“I no longer work for Mr. Lovell.” He said coldly. “And forgive me for saying this, but the nature of my relationship with him now is not your business.”

��Of course, my apologies. I only mentioned it because I-”

Before Logan could finish, a sudden flash of brilliant light coming from the house caught their attention. A steady red glow began to emanate from a collection of large windows along one wall on the first floor.

“What room is that coming from?” Logan glanced at Patton and was shocked to see that the man’s face had paled considerably.

“The ballroom.”

“Patton. Where is the man who was with me?” He asked frantically, icy terror coiling in his stomach.

“...The ballroom. Roman wanted to...speak with him.” Regret and guilt were laced through Patton’s voice as his eyes fixed on the house. Immediately, Logan began sprinting towards the nearest door, leaving all of their equipment - including the camera he had been holding - behind, strewn across the grass in the gardens. Virgil was in there, and something was very, very wrong.

---

“Why have you invaded my home?” The red-eyed man asked, tilting his chin upwards and glaring down his nose at Virgil, who was about 3 seconds away from losing his entire goddamn mind. A few seconds passed while his fight-or-flight instincts went haywire, trying to think of a way out of the situation. On one hand, he had no clue if he would even be able to touch the man so fighting would be risky. On the other, this spirit had somehow teleported him into the ballroom and was seemingly still strong enough to fully materialize so running seemed futile.

“Fuck.” Virgil hissed to himself, realizing that he would probably have to try and talk the ghost down if he had any chance of leaving alive. The ghost raised an eyebrow, his lips twisting into an irritated sneer.

“Am I truly addressing someone so faint-hearted that he cannot even bring himself to answer my questions? Speak, you impudent coward!” The man snapped. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Virgil spoke.

“Are you...Roman Lovell?” He was surprised at how steady his voice was, considering how badly he just wanted to curl up in a ball and hide.

“You really must be thick. Of course I am Roman Lovell, who else would be in this location?” Roman scoffed.

“Patton Woodward, for one. But I assumed tha-” Virgil cut himself off when Roman’s eyes flashed and the candles illuminating the room flared brighter.

“You have no right to speak his name. You trespass onto my property, disturb my home, seek Patton and I out, and for what? To learn the truth? To find out if we were as shameful as history paints us? I have met your kind before. Amateur investigators that traipse about and pretend to know us. You pretend to understand what we went through in the hopes that we will show ourselves to you and pour our hearts out just so you can go forth into the world and share what you’ve learned.” As Roman raved, he began floating above the ground and his form flickered with dangerous-looking red energy. Virgil stepped backwards, tears of pure terror forming in the corners of his eyes. Blinking them away, he attempted to explain himself.

“We don’t want to ruin your good name, we only want to try and let people know that you were treated super unfairly and open their eyes to the truth of the situation. You deserve better than what you got.”

“It is not your story to tell!” Roman roared, his voice thundering throughout the room. A blinding pulse of light flooded the room as the spirit lost his composure. Spots of light coated Virgil’s vision for a few moments before he was able to see again and he noticed with horror that the entire ballroom was filled with a bright blood-red glow. Whipping his head around frantically, the man tried to see where Roman had gone. Unfortunately, the spirit seemed to have abandoned the physical form he had been utilizing. He had not, however, left entirely.

“I will not allow history to repeat itself. Patton and I lost our lives because our story was told without our knowledge or permission. I vowed to never let anyone harm Patton ever again.”

Virgil decided to refrain from asking how they could possibly be hurt anymore if they were already dead.

“Hundreds of people have visited this place before, why did you decide to only appear to us? Why appear at all? Please, I just want to understand.” The living man asked aloud, unsure of where to direct his question. Clearly, Mr. Lovell had a penchant for monologuing and Virgil hoped that if he managed to distract the spirit, he could begin making his way towards the door. From there he could try to leave the room and hopefully, find Logan.

“I was observing you and your companion while you trespassed on my property. After so many years, I have learned a few things about the development of the world since I perished. Somehow, a type of instantaneous widespread communication has been created, as well as cameras that capture moving images. I saw that you have a few of those cameras and you continuously speak to them. Obviously, you intend to document anything you discover within these walls and share it. No longer would it only reach a small number of individuals. You have the ability to expose Patton and I again, and I will not stand for that.” While Roman explained himself, Virgil began inching closer and closer to the exit, not daring to make any sudden moves. “I knew that if I allowed you two to leave, your documentation would prompt more visitors. More spies, prying into things that they have no right knowing.”

“If you know there are two of us, why is my companion not here as well?” It was risky, bringing Roman’s attention back to him, but he had to know what happened to Logan.

“Patton is speaking to him right now, just as I am speaking to you. Don’t worry, you two will see each other again very soon.”

Virgil didn’t particularly appreciate the sinister tone in Lovell’s voice as he said that.

Silence filled the room, but the red glow didn’t fade. They had reached a stalemate. Virgil had no doubt that if he tried anything, Lovell would not hesitate to do...whatever he was planning to do to him. But he also had this strange feeling telling him that despite all of the spirit’s bluffing, he didn’t want to hurt anybody. Not really. He was just…

“Afraid.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re afraid. You were caught off guard all those years ago and something terrible happened. You lost someone you loved. You couldn’t protect him. And now you’re afraid that if you drop your guard for even a moment, he will get hurt again.” A moment of shocked silence followed that gem of a character analysis before Roman responded quietly.

“How dare you assume that you know me. How dare you assume that you know anything about how I feel.” Virgil suddenly felt an intense pressure around his neck and began silently choking. His body was lifted off the ground until he was suspended 6 feet in the air and he flailed frantically, quickly losing air. “How dare you assume to understand anything about what I have gone through!” Roman hissed from somewhere by Virgil’s ear. Just as the ghost hunter felt the last bit of air leave his lungs, the pressure was gone and he began plummeting towards the wooden floor.

---

Logan practically flew through the hallways, desperately trying to locate the ballroom and his husband. He heard a voice come from behind him as he ran.

“Logan, please, stop for one moment. Let me lead you to the ballroom!” Patton cried as he followed the panicked man. Rage bloomed in Logan’s chest at Patton’s pleas.

“You knew! You knew that your damned boyfriend had Virgil and you lied to me about it!”

“And that was a mistake! I never should have kept the truth from you, I was...afraid. I didn’t want you to become angry! Which I realize now did not work out as well as I had originally planned! Allow me to atone for the mistakes I made. I will show you where Roman has your companion.” Patton pleaded, and Logan slowed his running. Logically, the chances of him finding the way to the ballroom in a timely manner on his own were very slim. Letting Patton lead him there, even if he didn’t quite trust the spirit, would be much faster.

“Fine. Show me.” Patton caught up to him and with a timid smile, began leading the charge. The two hurried along the silent hallways, an intensity burning behind both their eyes as they got closer to their partners.

“Here, this is it.” Before Patton had even finished his sentence, Logan was shoving the doors open. A panicked cry burst out of him when he saw Virgil hovering in midair. His face was turning a dangerous shade of purple and as Logan stepped into the room, he began to fall. A booming thud echoed through the room as Virgil hit the ground.

“Virgil!” He screamed, rushing towards his husband’s shaking form.

“Roman, what are you doing?” Patton’s alarmed voice seemed far away as he pulled Virgil into his arms and cradled him close to his chest.

“Virgil, are you alright? Can you speak? I’m so sorry I tried to get here as fast as I could but I didn’t know where you were and I didn’t know where to go and oh god Virgil I’m sorry I’m sorry I should have-” He was cut off by Virgil pressing his fingers to his lips and smiling gently up at his babbling husband.

“I’m okay. Mostly. Actually, I think this proves that ghosts are definitely real so I guess I’m pretty great.” Logan laughed quietly, brushing strands of Virgil’s purple-stained bangs away from his stunning dark brown eyes.

“You’re ridiculous.” He said, cupping Virgil’s face with his hand.

“But you love me.”

“I do. God, I love you so much.” Logan leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Virgil’s forehead, continuing to hold him close to his heart.

A flash of red light brought the two back to the situation at hand and rage filled Logan as he looked up and saw another man standing before them, presumably Roman Lovell.

“You! How fucking dare you! My husband almost died because of you, you piece of shit!” Normally, Logan prided himself on being able to express his emotions without expletives, but at that moment he was so livid he could not care less.

“Husband?” Patton asked incredulously, walking up to stand beside Roman.

“Yes! Husband! These days, that’s a thing I can have. Of course, I almost didn’t have one anymore thanks to-”

“Logan,” Virgil interrupted his partner’s tirade. “Calm down. I’m okay, you don’t need to throw hands with a ghost.”

“I...I believe we may need to have a talk.” Roman admitted, glancing sheepishly at Patton who looked as if he was torn between being furious at Roman and relieved that nobody was seriously injured.

“Yes. I believe we do.” Logan spat, helping Virgil to his feet after checking him once again for injuries, which the man insisted he didn’t have. As the two pairs stood to face each other, Logan dimly noted that they must make quite a spectacle, two men decked out in ghost-hunting equipment and two Victorian-era ghosts. It was almost comically ironic. However, it was hard to find anything particularly amusing when he was staring down the man that nearly suffocated his husband. That man, Lovell, cleared his throat and straightened his spine, attempting to regain some of the composure practically bred into him.

“Yes, well, I feel as if I would be remiss to not begin with an apology. I lost my temper and acted rashly. There is no excuse for my actions and I am deeply sorry for treating you as if you alone were the cause of my personal troubles. That was indescribably unfair of me to do. All I can request of you is that neither of you condemn Patton for what I have done. He participated because I begged it of him, not because he desired to harm either of you.” Roman pressed his hand against his chest, sincerity practically radiating off him. “You were...right. About everything you accused me of. I was afraid of someone hurting Patton. Afraid of truly losing him this time. What you said was the truth and I simply refused to admit it. I am sorry for endangering you.”

“Uh...don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have tried to get all in your business. We both messed up and I forgive you. But maybe next time, try and avoid the whole strangulation thing huh?” Virgil commented with a faint teasing smirk tugging at his lips. Roman nodded gratefully.

“I forgive you as well. And...I shall certainly try.” He chuckled. His face quickly sobered, however.

“I acted out because I was afraid of losing the one I love. But I...I nearly caused that same thing to happen to you.” He admitted sorrowfully, turning to face Logan. “Everything that I feared, I almost made a reality for you. For that, I am eternally sorry. I cannot imagine what I would do without Patton, just as I assume you could not imagine what you would do without…” The ghost trailed off, suddenly aware that he did not know the two living men’s names. Patton giggled, breaking the tension in the room a bit more. The teasing smirk grew on Virgil’s face as Roman floundered.

“Virgil.” He supplied.

“Without Virgil.” Roman finished emphatically, gesturing grandly at the aforementioned man. Logan remained in stony silence for a moment, allowing a feeling of apprehension to settle between him and Roman. Patton glanced nervously between them, his eyes meeting Virgil’s momentarily as he too awaited Logan’s response. Finally, he spoke.

“I suppose...you seem sincere. I will think about forgiving you.” He said coldly. Virgil elbowed him in the side. “I forgive you.” Logan corrected himself. The temperature in the room noticeably rose as Roman and Patton both grinned dazzlingly.

“Again, Logan, I am truly so-” Patton began before Logan held up a hand.

“Please, no more apologizing. I believe it would be best if we just moved on. No hard feelings.” Patton nodded, tension draining from his shoulders.

“This is super sweet and all, but I think we might need to figure out what happens next,” Virgil spoke up hesitantly. “There may be ‘no hard feelings’ but the fact is, we’re talking to ghosts right now. This has never...happened...before at any of the locations we’ve been so like...what do we do? Do we help you guys move on? How do we even do that? What are we gonna tell the fans? We can’t show this footage, the house would be swarmed! But if we don’t release anything they might think something is up and then what would we do?” The thoughts spilled from his lips as his overactive mind began picturing everything that could potentially go wrong. Surely they couldn’t just leave Roman and Patton without trying to help them somehow but he had no idea of where to start. Did they need to find whatever physical object was tethering them to this world and destroy it? Did they need to murder someone’s descendant to help them enact revenge? He really didn’t want to murder anyone. His spiralling train of thought was interrupted when Logan placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Slow down Virgil, one thing at a time. In regards to the fans, we’ll simply cut out the parts of the footage in which we mention the gardens and the ballroom and film the outro as if we found nothing of interest here.” Logan nodded towards Patton and Roman. “Unless of course, you two would prefer that we share nothing at all of our time here. We obviously don’t want to upset you.” He added. Roman glanced at Patton, who looked thoughtful for a moment before turning to face his lover.

“I will not make a decision for the both of us but I believe we should allow them to share what they captured. Not all of it, not the parts with you and I, but as Virgil said, if they release nothing at all surely that would raise some suspicion if there are people expecting the results of their investigation.” Fear flashed on Roman’s face before his expression settled into one of reluctant understanding, the corners of his lips tilted downwards ever so slightly.

“I trust your judgement, my love. If you trust them...so do I.” Patton smiled gratefully at the shorter man and raised the aristocrat’s hand to his lips to place a gentle kiss on the back of his knuckles. As Roman’s face flushed with colour, Logan glanced at Virgil out of the corner of his eye. He almost laughed when he saw the glint of resignation behind his husband’s eyes. He knew that the sight of the overly-affectionate couple was reminding him of their friends Remy and Emile, who were both very shameless when it came to PDA. Clearly, the two of them and the ghosts were kindred spirits. Internally groaning at the unintentional pun, he brought his attention back to the present.

“Well then it seems like the video will not be an issue. There is one of your concerns resolved Virgil.” He commented precisely, catching the distracted couple’s attention and causing Virgil to snicker. “Now, the other problem you brought up may not be so easily dealt with but I am confident we will figure something out. Firstly, do you two actually desire our assistance in moving on to the next life?” Shock and confusion painted Patton and Roman’s faces as they blinked for a long few moments.

“I...I suppose...yes? Yes, we do.” Patton said hesitantly, looking to Roman for input. Hope glimmered behind his eyes.

“Yes! Of course!” The actor cried excitedly, grasping Patton’s hands in his own. “We could finally leave this place, Patton! We could forget about these dark and miserable halls and be somewhere better!” Bright smiles grew on the pair’s faces as the prospect sunk in.

“Uh, great! Cool. So like, how do we actually go about helping you? Do you know why you guys are stuck here?” Virgil piped up, slightly calmer than before.

“I can’t say that we do. Even in the beginning when we were not quite aware of our spiritual state, we felt no desire to do anything in particular that could set us free or anything of the sort.” Roman muttered thoughtfully. Silence fell between the four men as each of them looked to each other for an idea.

“As loathe as I am to suggest this, perhaps this particular puzzle would be best approached at another time.” Virgil’s eyes widened as Logan continued. “It is past 2 AM and neither Virgil’s nor I’s reasoning skills are functioning at their highest right now. I suggest that the two of us go home and do any damage control necessary before we release this video. That will also provide us with an opportunity to conduct some research that may help us determine how best to move forward. We could be back one week from now with anything we have found.”

“You can’t be suggesting that we just leave them here!” Virgil exclaimed.

“Well, I-” Patton began.

“Only for a week, while we try to figure out what to do.”

“Why can’t we do that here? We have our phones to do the research.”

“Honestly I agree wi-” Patton tried again.

“We are in an abandoned manor with no electricity Virgil. Our phones will last no longer than a day.”

“So you think we should just abandon these two.”

“We’re not abandoning them. It’s only for a week.”

“Virgil!” Patton shouted, causing everyone to jump. “I think Logan is right. We have been here for many years already. We will not be upset with you for leaving us for one week longer in order to help us move on for eternity.” He reassured the worried man with a kind smile. Virgil sighed deeply.

“Fine.” He huffed. “We need to find all our stuff though. It’s too damn expensive to leave behind.” He grumbled before turning and leaving the room. The remaining three men glanced at each other and quickly followed after him.

---

After all the equipment had been gathered and packed away in the bags Logan and Virgil carried, all four men stood in the grand entrance hall, where the ghost hunters’ unbelievable night had begun.

“We will be back in 6 or 7 days, depending on flight availability.” Logan reiterated.

“Thank you so much you two. You cannot understand how much this means to us.” Patton beamed, practically giddy with joy. A smile tugged at the corner of Logan’s lips and he nodded.

“We shall eagerly await your return. Be safe and do try to avoid any other angry spirits. That is now my role to fulfill.” Roman joked, causing Virgil to laugh.

“We’ll do our best.” With that, the two ghost hunters waved goodbye and exited the manor, which loomed over them menacingly in the darkness. They walked quietly towards their vehicle, the silence sitting heavy between them.

“What the fuck happened tonight?” Virgil suddenly muttered.

“...What the fuck indeed. Clearly, I was incorrect about the existence of ghosts, which was somewhat shocking. I believe tomorrow when this all catches up to me, I may be a bit more concerned.” Logan mused.

“We are going to help them, right?” Logan was silent for a long time as he glanced back at the darkened manor. Virgil followed his gaze to the front windows where the faintest traces of red and blue light could be seen. Looking closer, they saw two small figures waltzing around the entrance hall. They could practically sense their joyous smiles from where they stood. Finally, Logan spoke.

“We are certainly going to try.”

---

OH MY GOD. This is officially the longest fic I’ve ever written (and there’s more to come) I had so much fun with this and I got way too into researching the mid-1800s in order to write it lol. And now, taglists

General (just ask to be added or removed!)

@virgil-my-diamond

@ajdraws0430

Romantic Royality

@a-blog-just-for-sanders @ace-v-p-d @all-these-trees-stealing-mah-o2 @allthemetalsoftherainbow @angeliclogan @angered-turtle @anonymouseandkeyboard @aph-roma @artistictaurean @asalwayss @ashbash-the-trashcash @AskolotlQuestions @asterias-confused-writings @baileystarsketches @candiukas @captain-loki-xavier @cashmeredragon @catsandrandomness @cinderlunarcyborg @cinquefoilelove @clueingforblogs @confinesofpersonalknowledge @cripplingchips @deadinsidebutliving @deathbyvenusftw @dementeddracon @depressed-alone @do-rey-me @emovirgil @evilmuffin @faacethefacts @faithhopefelony @fandergecko @funsizedgremlin @grey-lysander @hamster-corn @hanramz-the-fander @heythereprincey @runyou-cleverboy-andremember @inkwasalwaysherere @ive-given-up-on-it @jade-dragon226-fan @johnnyboylaurens @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @justmyshitandmoreshit @k9cat @katatles-the-fish @katesattic @kentato-kenart @kurna-kovite @l-i-t-vocabcards @lana–22 @lo-brokeit @logan-exe @logically-sided @magicmapleleaf @maximum-fander @mercythemermaid @micha-like-you-find-in-rocks @migraine-marathon @milomeepit @minamishipsit @minshinxx @mollycassmith @multi-fandom-trash-x9000 @muontsy2 @musicphanpie-b @musicsavedmefromdeath @nightly-illustrator @notveryglittery @nymphaedoratonks @nyxwordsmith @ocotopushugs @on-lock-like-attica @ono-its-ryane @pandagirl0730 @pansexual-cat @pansexual-cat @patchworkofstars @paxtonlovestea @pearls-of-patton @pieces-of-annedrew @pinkeasteregg @planetsanders @potterlover394 @poundland-twoface @proudhufflepuff @prplzorua @purplepatton @purpleshipper @radioactivebread @reba-andthesides @redundant-statements-for-400 @robanilla @romanssippycup @rose-gold-roman @rptheturk @sanders-fam-ily @sanders-sides-things @sanders-trash-4ever @sanderssides-deathangel @saphirestrike @savingshae @shygirl4991 @silversunshine2012 @siriuswhiskers @smokeyrutilequartz @spacenerrrd @starlightlogan @starry-eyed-haiku-dreamer @storytellerofuntoldlegends @strangerthings-and-phan @strangerthings-and-phan @superintrovertfangirl @thats-so-crash @the-feels-are-coming @the-incedible-sulk @the-optimism-of-the-ostriches @the-prince-and-the-emo @theanxietyofbeinganxious @thecrimsoncodex @thegreyacefromspace @thepusheenqueen @theshipqueenarrives @thesilentbluesparrow @thestoryofme13 @theworldismysupernova @theworldismysupernova @thisisshien @thomas-must-get-to-sleep @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @too-precious-to-process @too-random-for-me @toujours-fidele @trashfireiplier @trashypansexual @treblesanders @tree4life25 @unknownsandersfan @urtrashhq @violetmcl @virgil-has-a-houseplant @voices-and-stardust @vulnerablevirgil @XxxxWitlee @yourhappypappypatton @l-i-t-vocabcards @houseplxnthoodie @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2

Romantic Analogical

@a-blog-just-for-sanders @ace-v-p-d @acechirou @acrobaticcatfeline @ahoardofsides @aikogumi @alextheodd @aliferous-ly @all-these-trees-stealing-mah-o2 @allaboutme7 @allierox15 @allthemetalsoftherainbow @an-anxious-gay-mess @angeliclogan @angered-turtle @anonymouseandkeyboard @anxie-teaa @anxious-darkwolf @anxiousoddish @anyay666 @aph-roma @areyousirius-noheisdead @artistictaurean @asalwayss @ashbash-the-trashcash @AskolotlQuestions @asterias-confused-writings @blaikleethepanagender @blazeimagines101 @bluebellie01 @candiukas @captain-loki-xavier @catsandrandomness @cinderlunarcyborg @cinquefoilelove @clueingforblogs @confinesofpersonalknowledge @confinesofpersonalknowledge @countessmissyshort @crankywhenprovoked @datonerougecookeh @deadinsidebutliving @deathbyvenusftw @deep-ocean-blues @dementeddracon @depressed-alone @devastate-my-space @digitally-analog @do-rey-me @dreamerhowelll @dudlebuggs @emokittenlikesgore @emovirgil @erlenmeyertrashofsandersides @evilmuffin @faacethefacts @faithhopefelony @fanatic564 @fandergecko @ffsas-side-account @fricksonsticks @funsizedgremlin @galacticallynonbinary @grey-lysander @hamster-corn @hanramz-the-fander @happypappypatton @heythereprincey @hghrules @hissesssss @hoodie-bros @hottopicvirge @icbatocomeupwithausername @runyou-cleverboy-andremember @inkyroo @irwinscupoftea @ispeakhalflies @ive-given-up-on-it @jade-dragon226-fan @johnnyboylaurens @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @justmyshitandmoreshit @k9cat @katatles-the-fish @katesattic @kentato-kenart @kickthenavi @koalaaquabear @kurna-kovite @l-i-t-vocabcards @lacandra @lana–22 @lo-brokeit @logically-alone @logically-asexual @logically-sided @louisthewarlock @lynisnotamused @madelynna @magicmapleleaf @makemeaplant @maximum-fander @memesanddreamsinc @mercythemermaid @micha-like-you-find-in-rocks @migraine-marathon @milomeepit @minamishipsit @mollycassmith @multi-fandom-trash-x9000 @muontsy2 @musicphanpie-b @musicsavedmefromdeath @neko-ereri @nightlovechild @nightmarejasmine @nuttytheorizer @nymphaedoratonks @nyxwordsmith @on-lock-like-attica @osnapitzbc @out-of-existence @pal-im-not-clever @pandagirl0730 @pansexual-cat @pansexual-cat @Paxtonlovestea @pearls-of-patton @pieces-of-annedrew @pinkeasteregg @planetsanders @potterlover394 @poundland-twoface @prplzorua @purplesatankittycat @radioactivebread @rainbow-beaniegirl @raisin-oatmeal-cookie @reba-andthesides @redundant-statements-for-400 @robanilla @roman-is-a-gay @romanssippycup @rose-gold-roman @royallyanxious @rptheturk @ruuworld @sanders-fam-ily @sanders-sides-things @sanders-trash-4ever @sandersfanderscandoers @sanderssides-deathangel @saphirestrike @sarcastic-anxious @save-dirk @savingshae @sehtah @septifanderplier @shesavampirequeen @shygirl4991 @sides-of-a-sunset @silentwhistlingwind @silversunshine2012 @siriuswhiskers @smokeyrutilequartz @space-d0ubt @spacenerrrd @starlightlogan @starry-eyed-haiku-dreamer @storytellerofuntoldlegends @strangerthings-and-phan @strangerthings-and-phan @superintrovertfangirl @thats-so-crash @the-feels-are-coming @the-incedible-sulk @the-optimism-of-the-ostriches @the-prince-and-the-emo @theanxietyofbeinganxious @thecrimsoncodex @thenerdycube @thepusheenqueen @thesilentbluesparrow @thestoryofme13 @theworldismysupernova @thisisshien @thomas-must-get-to-sleep @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @too-random-for-me @toujours-fidele @trashfireiplier @trashypansexual @tree4life25 @trivia-goddess @unknownsandersfan @urtrashhq @vampyrsarah @violetmcl @virgil-is-verge @virgils-anxiety @vivimarius @voices-and-stardust @vulnerablevirgil @walking-encyclopedia @watch-me-introvert @XxxxWitlee @yourhappypappypatton @l-i-t-vocabcards @enderperson43 @heck-im-lost @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2

#sanders sides spooky month #analogical #royality #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #murder tw #homophobia tw

477 notes · View notes

kitreadsbirdmen · 6 years ago

Text

An Encounter with Duality

An Analysis of Birdmen Flight 048′s chapter cover

As the current arc kicks into high gear, the flock gathering new allies left and right in their search for the 7 Wings, the reintroduction of a former ‘foe’ brings things to a satisfying start. Fiona has had a remarkably rocky start with our main cast so when Takayama sweeps her away into the front of their mission as a pivotal ally, we are left with only one panel– a context-less chapter cover following her cliffhanger addition to the cast– to make sense of the moment and further define her role in the narrative. What’s more, this scene is depicted in such a manner, utilizing allusions to two notable works from Western Artistic Canon, that it comments on the nature of the most elusive and important character yet: Takayama Sou. By modeling the scene of Fiona’s encounter with Takayama after Marianne Stoke’s 1900 painting Death and the Maiden, while simultaneously presenting a portrait depiction of Bernini’s Ecstasy of Saint Teresa in the background, Tanabe illustrates a conflicting duality of good and evil resulting ultimately in ambiguity. By first drawing visual comparisons between this cover and the named alluded works, the respective analysis will inform the deeper implications of this scene and the characters involved.

A Demonic Invader:

Death and the Maiden depicts a young woman’s late night encounter with a winged being clothes in black and raising a hand to her alarm. This motif of pairing a symbol of purity and life, such as a young woman, with such an apparent opposites as the embodiment of death was common in Renaissance paintings, exercising the fragile relationship of these two dichotomies. We see this painting invoked in the above cover, Takayama approaching Fiona in her bed, as death so does to the girl. Fiona’s pose emulates Stoke’s Maiden, holding the blanket up to her chest with an expression of alarm. Even her elaborate fashion sense permits her to wear a dated night gown that resembles the Maiden. The almost contrived presence of feathers from Fiona’s down pillows invoke the feathered nature of Stoke’s death– a detail that Tanabe’s Seraphim can’t achieve by nature of their powers. Takayama’s looming pose paints him as Stoke’s death angel easily, while also hearkening back to the ominous associations the public granted him early on in chapter 6:

Malignantly painted, Takayama becomes this force of nature, feared by men and notably, this young girl.

The context of the encounter is paradoxically more positive than presented. Takayama seeks out Fiona to complete their ensemble and prepare for the grand mission of gathering the 7 Wings. Whereas it can be assumed that Stoke’s painting illustrates the injustice of a young girl’s brush with death, Tanabe’s cover works as a positive force in the narrative, moving the plot along in an agreeable direction and liberating the girl from Eden in hindsight. Yet the overwhelming tone of an uninvited presence, consuming Fiona’s space, covering her in the ominous black of his wings, and eliciting her apparent surprise, tells the audience at first glance that this is a potentially sinister moment. It aligns with the constant ambiguity of Takayama’s actions to date, questioning his intentions and his motives to the point of frustration.

There is a foundational sense of duality in Stoke’s painting that isn’t properly translated to the cover, but felt in the deeper analysis. While acting as an inevitable force of nature, Death hold out its hand in gentle reassurance. This is something that Takayama does not mimic, but by virtue of his heroic actions and pacifying moments prior to now, we are reminded of his capacity for genuine good that belies the ambiguity of his actions.

A Divine Guest:

While a noticeable feature in the background of the scene, the identity of the portrait is one of importance. Best visualized in the volume release of the chapter cover, the audience glimpses a small section of a greater work:

(picture courtesy of @hiurasouji )

From the distinctive sunbeam’s the portrait was identified as a cropped version of Bernini’s famous statue, Ecstasy of Saint Teresa. Observe:

This statue, completed in 1652 and resting in the Roman Catholic church Santa Maria della Vittoria, depicts a scene from an autobiographical text, penned by the female subject of the work, a nun named Teresa of Avila. The episode denotes her religious euphoria during an encounter with an angel

I saw in his hand a long spear of gold, and at the iron’s point there seemed to be a little fire. He appeared to me to be thrusting it at times into my heart, and to pierce my very entrails; when he drew it out, he seemed to draw them out also, and to leave me all on fire with a great love of God. The pain was so great, that it made me moan; and yet so surpassing was the sweetness of this excessive pain, that I could not wish to be rid of it. The soul is satisfied now with nothing less than God. The pain is not bodily, but spiritual; though the body has its share in it. It is a caressing of love so sweet which now takes place between the soul and God, that I pray God of His goodness to make him experience it who may think that I am lying.

Chapter XXIX; Part 17, Teresa’s Autobiography

The notable parallel here revolves around yet another winged being visiting a woman. The differences put Takayama in comparison to not an ominous force of nature but a divine being of great power and purpose. Unlike the Stoke’s painting, this encounter is at face value a strikingly good and joyful thing. It serves to thus paint Fiona as overwhelmed with the otherworldly power and mission of her visitor. An appropriate reaction to Takayama’s unfathomable presence that she earlier remarks. Though it can be said that Fiona’s parallels to the painting are diminished in the nature of the cover’s framing. By cutting off the portrait to only show the arm of the visiting angel, space and composition restraints aside, the metaphor is weakened. Takayama’s connections to divine forces are as abundant as his more sinister comparisons.

This final page to chapter 29 invokes the same style of religious lighting as the Bernini statue while placing Takayama in a messiah role to the public. Ominous features notwithstanding, what is a remarkably ‘good’ visit from an angel proves with an inlaid duality that it is just as thematically gray as the Stoke’s painting furthering Takyama’s ambiguous alignment.

While an autobiographical excerpt, the symbolic nature of the nun’s divine encounter that Bernini depicts implies an undeniable sinister nature to the event. Teresa’s episode makes note of the angel’s spear, which appeared to be “thrusting at times into [her] heart” and blanketing her in “excessive pain” that paradoxically turns to the titular ecstasy of the encounter. It is no accident that the spear in the portrait is what is most clearly seen in within the cover, highlighting this contradictory sense of pleasure and pain, violence and good will, with the actions of our Takayama.

An Overwhelming Moment:

There is an argument to be said that Takayama is clearly acting on the agency of some unknown power. The allusions to those forces have the potential to work beyond simple catalysts for tonal reception. In regards to the actual plot elements at hand this cover serves to give us insight into Fiona’s emotions. The ambiguity between the two allusions paints a sense of uncertainty with Takayama and the present mission. It also serves as a potential reasoning for her clear attachment to him. Before this moment, Takayama interacts with her two seprate times, both in negative and hostile contexts. The first time is after Eishi Awakens and he performs a Force Link.

This is an act that is clearly distressing to Fiona, leaving her crying, begging her innocence to him, all with the lost agency of her wings forcibly sprouting. She leaves this scene with a sense of understanding of Takayama, noting the unfathomable nature of his mind and the newness of the emotions he felt through Eishi. Later on he again engages her in a similarly hostile manner:

(dont mind me just doing the work of god dear fiona)

This hijack that he does is the definition of invasive. These two moments then get topped off by the bedroom raid making the audience question her emotional state. It is apparent during this chapter and the next that Fiona doesn’t bond well with the other Seraphim but instead clings to this serial offender of her agency.

and then later she only permits Takayama to touch her shoulder:

(minor post 049 spoiler)

And this seemingly contradictory behavior I feel is justified in the context of the cover of flight 048. By connecting her to the subjects of these two works, her complex relationship with this force is explained. Teresa’s experience with the angel is overwhelming, while also serving to affirm her faith. The Maiden’s encounter with Death is a commentary on the inevitable nature between the two. The fear and reverence are two parts of the same the same coin and the duality of Fiona’s encounters paint her relationship with Takayama with the broad strokes of religious worship or natural comprehension.

In the end we are left with the great mystery of Takayama, a character that exceeds the labels of good and evil while acting in the stark presence of the protagonists. The use of Bernini and Stokes work in one depicted scene proved to emphasize this and ally Takayama with further connections to greater powers. And within the more present understanding of the story the cover enlightens the audience with a backdrop for this confusing relationship so quickly formed between Fiona and Takayama.

All in all we ask ourselves:

why u so fukin confusing takayama?

This was written on 7/5/17 when the chapter was released in the Japan. After so much waiting, it was finally translated and I can post this. This mainly reflects my perspective at the time and is in now way influenced by spoilers.

#birdmen #birdmen analysis #flight 048 cover analysis #birdmen meta #forgive this for egregious mistakes

49 notes · View notes

chrysaliseuro2019 · 5 years ago

Text

FROM RAGS TO RICHES

Our usual peaceful breakfast wasn’t to be this morning. The owner of the absolutely perfectly tasteful Pension/BnB we stayed in had in her wisdom chosen to set one long table instead of several small ones. In keeping with the rest of the little establishment the setting and indeed breakfast was exquisite. That is until Daniela came to join us.

Chris asked her if she spoke English and from that moment she never stopped proving she could. We found out she is building two houses in Ostuni (with pools) and invited us to come and look at them (we declined), has a son who is hoping to work at Four Seasons in Sydney next year and that she wants to go to Brisbane and experience the personal concierge who can take you to all the best Brisbane has to offer. We didn’t like to disabuse her fantasy by saying that one day would probably cover it.

Meanwhile the other more reserved guests arrived at the table. They all suggested we go to Matera saying it was amazing but didn’t specify why. One of them even said she cried when she saw it. We thought this must be some speccy city to evoke such a reaction. Daniela chipped in with an accommodation suggestion which when we checked on booking.com came in at €435 per night, about a week’s accommodation budget for us. We parted with Daniela wanting to exchange telephone numbers so we only hope Brisbane can enhance its tourist appeal to keep her there.

Matera bound which was an easy drive although a bit of it was retracing our steps from yesterday. Past all the little truilli and lucky enough to be stopped by a flock of around 200 sheep crossing the road. Escorting them were 2 dogs who looked more like golden retrievers (possibly Maremma breed)than our kelpies or border collies and a farmer. When they’d safely crossed bells jingling, the farmer closed the gate and returned to his home while the dogs joined the flock blending in perfectly, gamboling up the hill with their charges. Presumably the flock settled to graze and the dogs settled to oversee them.

Found a big carpark not too far out of town after the more formal one was full. Worked out is was a no charge car park, slapped on plenty of sunscreen to deal with the blazing sun and walked 10 minutes into town. The drive and walk into town to date had been less than inspiring so what were the girl’s tears about?

Found a large square with the usual imposing municipal office buildings, the do-not-ignore-me church and a statue based on one of Salvador Dali’s figures -a long and skinny legged elephant with a structure on its back. Still looking for the tear jerking moment and there it was. Looking from street level to below laid out is a vast city built into caves known Sassi. A total network of rambling ‘homes’ built into limestone rocks ad hoc in structure and layout. It was huge and what we could see was only half of it, divided by a cathedral built at the top (as cathedrals inevitably are) with the rest hidden down the incline behind the cathedral. The rest of the new city had been built at a higher level around it. It truly was jaw dropping.

There were tours to the water cisterns but didn’t fancy that. Other than that you could just roam the higgeldy piggeldy streets looking at this city. We soon learnt its sad history. The Sassi was over 2000 years old and was inhabited as slums by 15,000 people as recently as 1952. The dwellings had no sanitation, electricity or natural light. Families of any number of children who survived diseases such as cholera and malaria shared a one room dwelling with livestock of maybe a donkey, pigs and/or chooks. The toilet was in the corner and no flush technology there. The men and boys travelled with the donkey to work the land some several kilometres away, and the women plied skill they had at home in order to make ends meet. It was overwhelmingly grim. A reconstructed house was set up as a museum to get a feel for it. But compared to the photos in the foyer the museum model, although unbelievably basic, was a sanitised version of what the reality must have been. Now we understood the tears.

Finally the Italian prime minister in 1950 called the slums ‘a national disgrace’ and action was taken. The families were moved out of the slums into new accommodation in the new bit of town. However many of the residents struggled to adapt having never seen water from a tap, electric lights etc. Also where to keep the livestock? And some felt very disconnected from what once was a community of solidarity. The adjustment must have been daunting. The young lady at the museum said her grandfather lived there and once removed never went back. And who could blame him. Another man now aged 83, so presumably an ex-resident, also had painstakingly constructed a large model of the city. It took him 3 years.

But the wheels of change came into play as they have in Melbourne’s inner suburbs and it is now a highly desirable place to stay. In 1986 it was decided to allow people to move back. But not the old inhabitants. Instead a tourist opportunity opened up. In 2017 it was claimed more than 25% of the Sassi had been converted to Airbnb accommodation. We passed plenty of these Airbnbs and suspect that Daniela’s€435 per night was one of them.

A quick lunch that turned out to be a way to use the restaurants stale bread, possibly salvaged from the days when the Sassi was still a slum, by soaking it in oil, throwing 2 slices of tomato and 2 baby tomatoes cut into 16ths, a few chunks of onion and some celery leaves and calling it a local speciality. Special it was not. Topped up with some excellent sour cherry pastries along our walk.

The walk around the Sassi while sobering to think how conditions once were, was also lovely, if hot. Down the deep valley was a river and the walk was punctuated with statues inspired by Dali’s artworks. We highly recommend making this a stop in any Puglia itinerary.

Paid a quick visit to the museum which had a room open with some 15th Century artefacts to tempt visitors to buy a ticket for the rest of the museum. This sounds like a blasé traveller, but having seen antiquities from many centuries BC we weren’t tempted to venture in. Instead back to our Fiat to head a little further towards Rome. Once again a pleasant drive as the flatter plains of Puglia slowly transformed into rolling hills as we drove towards Benevento in the Campania region. I chose this town out of the blue as there seemed to be a lot of little hamlets and this was a reasonable sized town so would have accommodation choices. Did a quick Google images scan and pictures looked ok and hotel on booking.com looked ok but held off booking to firstly do a quick reccy of town and if alright then check out the hotel.

On approach Benevento looked a dud. Lots of 50’s and 60’s ugly apartments and no apparent charm. Started to doubt my judgement so another quick google of the most beautiful towns in Campania showed Benevento came in second to Naples which was reassuring. Found the hotel after a miss on first attempt and landed a huge room with view over local river for a much better deal than booking.com. Also got some dinner recommendations which are also helpful.

Quick spruce and time to explore. Five minutes walk to the Centro historico which consisted of a wide Roman road with little dark side streets running off it and breaking out into plazas from time to time. Once again there were many grand buildings, bell towers, churches and gladly shops selling clothes not tourist tatt. It turned out we had chosen well.

Tried the first dinner recommendation way down one of those dark side streets but the atmospheric main room was full so they steered us to the fully lit ante room with one couple looking very lonely. Think they would’ve liked the company of other diners so they didn’t feel like they were in Siberia but we weren’t charitable enough to join them.

So off to second choice which had seating outside in a little courtyard which is what we hoped for. As we arrived 2 women were drifting in too and they beat us to the table by a short half head. Damn that was the last table so now struggling to find somewhere. Up the main drag but that’s never our choice as usually very touristy and average food. Finally saw a few bods sitting down another dark narrow laneway and went exploring this time with success. Last table of only 3 outside was ours. It felt very local down this not quite grimy but certainly not sanitised alleyway. As usual beer, red and white wine readily available, while vodka, tonic, rosé and sprite (for shandy purposes) were not. Opposites was a little bar so I went looking for a sprite to buy but did one better by getting a V&T and bringing it back to the table. A different version of BYO.

Pizza for Chris and spaghetti arrabiata (angry sauce) for me and it sure made by tongue angry with one big lump of chilli heavily disguised amongst the sugo.

Identified a couple of historic sites to explore tomorrow morning and headed for home. Meanwhile the Main Street had become more crowded with families, oldies like us and a number of young people especially young men in small groups wandering along chatting and enjoying the balmy air.

3 notes · View notes

handsupinthebalorclub · 6 years ago

Text

Anagapesis (chapter 4)

pairing: the shield x reader

word count: 3,606

summary: Anagapesis (n.) no longer feeling any affection for something or someone you once loved. After three years, you’re officially the manager of the Shield once again. But, things aren’t quite the same as they used to be.

warnings: cursing, mentions of betrayal, trust issues, consumption of alcohol

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four / chapter five

“Dean, if you don’t take your feet off of the desk…”

Dean’s eyebrows arched upwards at the unfinished threat and a smirk slid onto his face. He leaned further into the hotel office chair and clamped his hands together behind his head in a very relaxed fashion.

“What? What are you going to do?”

You completely ignored him and turned towards Roman.

“When are you guys leaving? The clock strikes midnight in less than forty minutes, y’know.”

“As soon as Seth gets out of the bathroom.”

You’re not exactly sure how the guys can go out to the bar after the hectic episode of RAW you had all just witnessed, which included Roman almost going face first into a piece of metal when Miz took off a turnbuckle. But it was New Years Eve, after all. Like last time, they had offered for you to come, but you kindly declined.

You were actually looking forward to having the hotel room to yourself and bringing in the new year with a long bubble bath and maybe even a face mask. Plus, if you were lucky, you’d be in bed and sleeping by the time Seth had returned. It felt extremely awkward that you’d be rooming with him for the next week, but you didn’t want to break the rotation rule.

As if on cue, Seth exited the bathroom in a white button down and jeans. He scanned the room and patted his pockets, likely making sure he had everything, before speaking.

“You guys ready?”

Dean grunted a response and stood up from his seat. Roman nodded and turned to you, his mouth swinging open to say something.

“Ro,” you said, giving him a kind smile. You already knew what he was about to say. “I’m fine, really. You guys have fun.”

“Alright, call us if you need anything.” Roman gave you a small hug before he made his way to the door. Dean followed in suit with Seth being the last one to exit.

“Don’t get locked out!” Seth warned and shut the door, leaving you with your thoughts.

* * *

Your eyelids fluttered numerous times before you concluded that the person standing in front of you was actually there.

“Hey, y/n.” Lana’s thick russian accent was apparent as she greeted you. You quickly rushed forward and gave her a tight hug, which she returned.

Lana became a very close friend of yours while you worked on the Smackdown brand and helped keep you sane whilst you were with Dolph. She knew first hand how hard it was to work with him and, to be honest, you still found it surprising that they had dated at one point.

Once you pulled away from the hug, your happiness quickly turned into suspicion.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in Tampa for Smackdown tomorrow? How did you even find my room?”

She chuckled and lifted her palms in front of her.

“Whoa, calm down. One question at a time, yeah? By the way, can I come in?”

You took a step back and allowed her to step into the hotel room before you closed the door behind her.

“Okay, spill. What’s going on?” You sat down onto your bed and patted the space next to you for her to join.

“We’re filming Total Divas tonight at a local club, a big party scene to bring in the new year. And I want you to come! As for the room, I have my ways.” She sat down with a large smile on her face. It took you a minute to process what she was actually asking.

“Lana, I really appreciate you coming all the way here to get me, but I’m really not in the mood to go out tonight.”

Her hazel eyes rested upon the side table and a prominent frown was on her face.

“I was really looking forward to having you there, since most of the other girls and I don’t necessarily get along, but if you’re too busy...” She pushed up from the bed and began to walk towards the door in a slow paced fashion.

A sigh escaped your lips as you rolled your eyes at her actions. It was obvious she was trying to guilt you into going to the club, something that she’d done many times before. And, like all of those other times, you caved.

“Alright, alright. Fine. I’ll go.” You threw your hands up in frustration, but smiled when a giggle escaped the blonde’s lips.

“Yay! Do you still have the gold dress I bought you for your birthday last year?”

You nodded and walked over to the small closet that Seth allowed you to take over for the time being. It actually shocked you that even after all of these years, he still preferred to just live out of his luggage than taking the time to hang up his clothes.

You pulled out the knee length sparkly dress. It was barely worn, only being used for one or two carpet events. When she bought it, Lana knew it wasn’t exactly your style, but it brought her peace that you had one statement piece for situations like this.

“And the matching heels?”

“I left those at home, but I have a pair of white flats I can wear.”

“That’ll do. Quickly, go get changed. We have twenty minutes until the ball drops. Don’t bother about makeup; I’ll do it for you in the car.”

You nodded and slipped into the bathroom to follow her orders.

* * *

A thumping beat pulsated throughout the club as Lana led you to the VIP section where various other Divas sat, cameras linked to their every movement. You had appeared on Total Divas a few times before, whenever they did something at a company event, but because your work focused primarily on the male side of the rosters, you weren’t particularly close with any of the women. Of course you had spoken to all of them numerous times and liked to consider many of the girls on this season’s cast as acquaintances, but the only one you were really close to was Lana.

“Lana!” Naomi was the first to approach the two of you as she pulled Lana into a hug. When they pulled away from each other, Naomi’s eyes landed on you. A smile stretched across her face and she gave you a quick hug, which you returned. “Y/n! It’s nice to see you! How’s RAW treating you?”

“Good, actually. It’s weird being back there after being on the blue side for so long - and well, other reasons - but it’s going good so far.”

Lana got your attention by resting her hand on your arm.

“I’m going to go get a drink from the bar, do you want anything?”

You knew you were going to regret saying this in the very near future, but you shrugged.

“Surprise me.”

A smirk crossed her lips as she nodded and rushed into the crowd towards the bar, leaving you with Naomi.

“Come sit with everyone,” She smiled kindly and gestured to where the other cast members were. Brie Bella, Nikki Bella, Natalya, Maryse, Alexa Bliss, Carmella, and Nia Jax all sat on the circular white couch chatting. Naomi guided you over to the other females and took a seat next to Nia.

“Hey, guys. Lana invited me. I hope that’s alright,” you greeted the seven females. You made sure to make eye contact with the friendlier of the bunch, which was basically anyone other than Maryse. The two of you often butted heads in the past because of the rift between the Shield and her husband, and you doubted any of that would change any time soon. But, admittedly, a part of you wanted to question where she had been for the last couple of weeks.

“Of course it is!” Brie was the first once to speak up and pointed towards the open seat next to Naomi. “Go ahead, sit down.”

You complied and sat down upon the white leather seat, the others falling back into their previous conversations fairly quickly. Eventually, you joined into Nia and Alexa’s discussion about clothes.

“I love your dress, y/n,” Nia complimented.

“Yeah,” added Alexa. “I actually didn’t recognize you at first because I’ve only ever seen you in black, but the gold looks absolutely stunning on you.”

You bashfully looked down at the shiny fabric and ran your hand across your lap, smoothing down any of the wrinkles that may have formed when you sat down.

“Thank you. Lana actually bought it for me as a gift.” You looked upwards and locked onto the image of Lana weaving through people as she headed in your direction. “Speaking of Lana…”

Once she reached the group, she placed down the two drinks she was holding and greeted the other girls. A few, such as the Bella Twins and Alexa, gave her hugs whilst Natty and Maryse just gave quick hellos. When she sat down next to you on the couch, you pointed towards the drinks she had put down earlier.

“Are one of those mine? Or are you just double fisting glasses tonight?”

“Oh, I wish,” she replied as she leaned over and took one of the cocktails. “This one is yours.”

You took the glass and studied the drink. The color started off as orange but it slowly faded into more of pinkish-red color and the rim was lined with a pink substance. You had a feeling that Lana was trying to distract you from the presumably high alcohol content with the prettiness of the drink, but it was kind of working.

“What is this?” you questioned as Lana sipped upon her drink, which had a very vibrant pink hue. But even you could identify that it was a Cosmopolitan.

“The house special. They call it a Sunset Lullaby.”

“What’s in it?”

“That’s all I’m telling you, doll. But I promise it’s nothing bad and won’t mess you up too much.”

You sighed but brought the Sunset Lullaby to your lips to take a sip. It had some fruity undertones and you actually thought the taste was better than the beautiful appearance.

After a few minutes of talking to Naomi and Lana, a unfamiliar voice overtook the speakers of the club, putting the music on pause.

“Excuse me, everyone.”

Up on stage, where the DJ previous stood, was a man wearing a navy blue suit with his hair slicked back. He was probably either the owner or someone who worked at the club.

“I’d like to take a minute to just say thank you for choosing the Penthouse to bring in the new year. And if you’d like to join me, we’ll now begin counting down the seconds until 2018!”

A chorus of cheers went throughout the club as the man glanced down at his watch in order to get the timing correct.

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6,”

By this time, the Total Divas group had joined along with grins on their faces.

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1!”

The club erupted into an array of different sounds. Music overtook the speakers once again as people clapped, jumped, and celebrated the year to come.

“Should we make a toast?” Nikki practically yelled over the noise. Everyone around you nodded and stood, raising their glasses upwards in a circle. You weren’t going to join at first, in respect for them having their big start of the year moment for their show, but the girls insisted.

Once you stood, Nikki went on with the toast.

“Over the course of the past year, I’ve gotten the opportunity to watch all of the strong women here thrive. 2017 was filled with happiness, sadness, and everything in between. I know that we all have professional and personal growth coming our way this year, and I can’t wait to see what happens next. To 2018!”

“To 2018!” Everyone echoed before clinking their drinks together.

* * *

“One more song?” Lana smiled, despite that fact that she had asked that question four other times that night.

“Lana, my legs are going to fall off. I need to sit down,” you said, laughing.

“Aw, c’mon!”

“What are we, chopped liver?” Nia commented as she pointed to herself and Naomi.

“Let the poor girl sit,” Naomi added. Lana dramatically sighed but used her head to gesture towards where the others sat. You mumbled a ‘thank you’ to the two females and left before Lana changed her mind.

Back at the white couch, Nikki, Maryse, Alexa, Brie, and Natalya idly chatted. You took a seat next to Alexa and took a sip of your Sunset Lullaby, which you were very close to finishing. At this point, you weren’t exactly drunk, but the alcohol was beginning to show its presence in the form of a low buzz in the back of your mind.

“Y/n, can I ask you a question?” the current Smackdown Women’s Champion, Natalya, asked. It wasn’t often that Natty spoke directly to you, so you quickly nodded.

“Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“What exactly happened to you? I mean, I know you’re on RAW now. But I was so used to seeing you backstage at Smackdown, and then you just suddenly disappeared.”

Without thinking, your eyes dashed over to the camera that lingered a few feet away. You couldn’t exactly be a hundred percent honest and say that you had been forced to rejoin the Shield against your will. If word got out, there would no doubt be a strongly worded email from Stephanie the moment the episode aired. Plus, you had kept up the façade of the Shield having a strong reunion so far, might as well keep it going.

“Well, I found out that Dean, Seth, and Roman had gotten rid of any bad blood right after it happened. It kind of took me awhile to come to my senses and realize that one, they all can’t plan as a unit for shit, and two, I truly missed their company. So, I scheduled a meeting with the McMahons and did a business proposal to see if they’d let me manage the Shield again. And, well, here I am.” You made mental notes as you compiled the story, just in case you needed to reference it later.

Natty nodded and another conversation picked up very quickly after that.

A few more minutes later, Carmella came over to the group with a large smile and a tray full of alcohol.

“Shots?” She offered the plate to you all. Everyone but Maryse accepted her offer.

“Might as well,” You said as you picked up the clear liquid.

* * *

“This is your room, right?” Nia asked as she pointed to the number plate on the wall. You narrowed your eyes at the number before giving a big nod.

“Who are you rooming with?” Alexa followed it up with another question as she knocked lightly on the door.

“Seth? Seth. I think it’s Seth.” You answered.

Just then, the door swung open to reveal shirtless Seth with a pair of grey sweatpants.

“Nia? Alexa? What are you guys doing here?” He asked with furrowed brows. Nia pointed towards your slumped figure that was leaned against the wall.

“We wanted to walk y/n here. Lana invited her out with us and she kind of got drunk.”

“I am not drunk!” You retaliated, but your comment was quickly dismissed.

“Oh, that’s where she was? I just assumed she was hanging out with Balor.”

“Really? Finn? Huh,” Alexa said thoughtfully.

“Apparently they’re friends or something. Well, thank you for delivering her, girls.”

“You sure you’re good?” Nia looked at Seth with a concerned look, but the male only nodded.

“Yeah, I got her. Thanks. Have a nice night.” He walked over to where you were leaning, guided you into the room, and sat you down onto your bed.

Seth didn’t really mind watching over you while you were drunk, he had done it a few times before. You weren’t really a loud or boisterous drunk, just spacey and sometimes childish. Like now, you were just slumped over and analysing your clothes. A sudden thought crossed Seth’s mind, which made him hold out his hand to you.

“Give me your phone.”

You looked at him with confusion written across your face.

“Why?” “Because you drunk text.”

There was a moment of silence as you glared at Seth with narrowed eyes, but you eventually gave in and handed him your phone.

Seth traversed the room and placed the cell phone into his bag for safe keeping. The sound of you mumbling made him turn back around and a sound of worry escaped his lips as he noticed you attempting to walk away from the bed. However, you just ignored him and tried to stop your swaying.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like, Rollins? I’m walking.”

Seth’s face deadpanned.

“You won’t even say my name while drunk, huh? And I meant where you’re walking to.”

“The closet. I want pajamas. I can’t sleep in this.” You gestured to the golden dress, but lost your balance while doing so. Seth caught you by the arm and help you steady yourself.

“Alright, alright. How about you sit back down and I’ll grab you something to sleep in?” He didn’t step away until you had sat back down onto the bed. He walked over to the closet and started sorting through your clothes. After a few minutes, he returned to your side with a pajama set you had bought not too long ago.

“Is this good?” He questioned while handing the outfit to you.

You gave it a once over and nodded.

“Alright, I’m going to go wait in the bathroom. If you feel like you’re going to fall, try to fall onto the bed. If you need anything, just call out.”

Seth sent you one more glance before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door.

You stood up and wiggled yourself out of the dress. You lost your balance once or twice, but heeded Seth’s advice and used the bed to catch yourself.

* * *

Roughly an hour ago, you had crawled into bed with the intent of falling asleep but ended up twisting and rolling across the mattress. Boredom, along with the steady buzzing that coursed through your head, was enough to change your mind about sleeping.

“Seth?” You propelled yourself upwards from your lying position and looked over to where he sat.

“Yes?” He looked up from his phone and met your gaze.

“I’m bored. Let’s play a game.”

He let out a small sigh but positioned himself so he was looking at you. The childish side of your drunkness was starting to show and he knew from experience there was no way to go against it.

“What kind of game?”

You pondered for a second and mimicked his sitting position, the two of you finally staring face to face.

“21 questions?”

Seth’s eyebrows lifted upwards as he questioned your choice, but he nodded anyway.

“Alright, you first.”

The first few rounds revolved around questions about recent topics. You asked what book Seth had recently finished, knowing that he often read novels in his spare time. Seth asked how you became friends Finn Balor. You asked him if he was still doing Crossfit tournaments, which lead him to ask for a status update regarding your family.

You shifted your sitting position and drew your legs upwards so you could rest your head onto your knees.

“Favorite color?”

Confusion overtook Seth’s features as his famous, boisterous laugh filled the room.

“Stop playing and get on with your questio-” Seth’s words stopped abruptly when he noticed the naivety that lingered in your (eye color) eyes. “You’re serious? You’ve known me for how long now?” He scoffed.

You turned your head sideways.

“I don’t know you.”

“Okay, there’s no way you’re that drunk-”

You quickly cut him off.

“No, no. I mean yes, I know you. But not like I used to. I know the old you.” Seth recoiled at your words, the memory of Dean saying something similar haunting him, but you were too busy fiddling with the bed sheets to notice. “The Seth that was basically the heart of the Shield. The Seth that would pop his head over the airplane seat and thrust an earbud into my ear, so excited for me to hear the latest song he was addicted to. The Seth that I had freaking sleep overs with during our short, but amazing, days off.”

You paused and looked up at him.

“I don’t know the new Seth. The Seth that broke up the Shield. ‘Kingslayer’ Seth. The Seth that was apparently so arrogant during his Money in the Bank and World Heavyweight reigns.” There was another short pause. “But this Seth,” A small smile tugged at the ends of your lips as you pointed towards him. “Also apologized to Dean on live television and was willing to take a chair shot to prove it. He also managed to gain back the trust of both Dean and Roman. I don’t know this Seth. But I think I want to. If people can change this drastically, I think favorite colors can too.”

Seth just sat there. Staring at you with a slightly open mouth and frozen thoughts. He was so taken aback from your words. Was this really how you felt? Were you willing to give him a second chance?

“Seeeeeth?” You blinked and waved your arms around. “Oh Seeeeeeth!”

“Sorry,” He shook his head and forced a smile. “Favorite color, right? It’s still black.”

@scuzmunkie / @alyj12 / @letshaveadepressingtime / @theroyalbrownbarbie / @shieldgallover / @nikora3010 / @zombiewerewolfqueen / @insaneship / @sausagefest1996 / @kingslaxerpark / @houndsofjxstice / @viperslunatic / @kenyadakblalock / @twisted1ginger / @captainfoxy22 / @calwitch / @staystrongyoureawarriorfighter / @shamaness1171

If you would like to be added or removed to the taglist, please send me a message!

#wwe x reader #the shield x reader #seth rollins x reader #dean ambrose x reader #roman reigns x reader #seth rollins imagine #dean ambrose imagine #anagapesis

246 notes · View notes