#a masterpost now would be ... ludicrous

[mubthemoff]

hi !!! 📚 Your OC has to improvise a 10 minute lecture about a topic of their choosing. What do they chose? :D FOR ALL OF THEM ( please )

There's so many I cannot reasonably do everyoneifjdkshssmdhnd-

I'll choose like- three-

Encyclia - application of psychological warfare

Voltage - corruption of people in power over time is inevitable- proof cybernetic organisms are alive!

Prisma - history of Velocitron's racing culture

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green - Part 24

masterpost

“We should make H— Jason spend some time in here,” Danny said. He was good with the rest of the name now, but he still struggled with with Jason. He was trying. “He could use the reason to relax.”

“I do not believe that Todd is capable of relaxing,” Damian said with a little frown and Danny was pretty sure meant Damian was uncertain, but other people tended to think that it meant Damian was judging them.

“Sure he can. He makes a great pillow too,” Danny said. He leaned over and bumped his shoulders against Damian’s. “Totally bet if you just just sat down and leaned against him, he wouldn’t do anything.”

“Tch.”

“Okay, sure, half of that would be because he’d be too shocked, but really. He’s secretly a cuddler but, like, in a totally different way than Dick. Jason is more like Cass is.”

Damian’s brows were knitted together, but he gave a considering little nod at that.

Danny was glad that Damian went through the door to the hall first. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, exactly, but being out of the apartment now felt wrong and bad and… scary. Danny knew that had delayed them taking him to the Manor and was making some of them anxious, but Danny just couldn’t… it was hard to shake, even if everywhere they went had been safe.

“How were the kittens, Dandelion?” Jason asked. He was leaning against one wall and Lacey stood next to him, looking at something on her phone.

“Pointy,” Danny said with a little smile, “and very cute.”

“We are going to go see the dogs now instead,” Damian said.

“Okay,” Lacey said with a smile. “Your brother and I were talking about what might work for you. I think we have a few options, but I actually have someone in mind for you to meet first of the bunch. She might not work at all but… I have a hunch.”

“As ludicrous as it sounds, Ms. Lacey’s hunches do often play out,” Damian said. “Which dog are we going to see?”

“You haven’t met her yet. She just came here from another shelter because the last one didn’t have the space for her. Before that she was out in the suburbs where she had been adopted, but she kept trying to herd all the other animals and children. They got her from a shelter where she had been surrendered by her owners because they moved to a new apartment that wouldn’t let a dog like her in.”

Danny frown grew as Lacey talked. “Oh, wow… she’s been through a lot of homes, hasn’t she?”

“She has, and it’s really not her fault. She’s only a year and a half old, so she’s still a bit of a puppy and will need training, but she’s a real sweetheart and I think she just needs the right person to love her back.” Lacey paused in front of a door and opened it to some sort of waiting room. “Now, she is a large dog, so I’ll keep her on a harness when I bring him in and you let me know when you’re comfortable for her to come close, okay?”

“Okay,” Danny agreed. He knew he had told Damian not small, but he was suddenly a little concerned by how large was large.

Jason must have been able to tell, because he led Danny over to the small couch to sit down with him while Damian scooted the chair he chose closer to Danny’s open side.

Very, was the answer to how large was large a few minutes later when Lacey brought in a huge dog. The bright red harness barely visible through the mass of black fur that seemed to stand straight out from the dog in a massive mane.

“Okay, come on girl, down,” Lacey said, drawing out the words.

When the large, deep black eyes turned to her, she pointed purposefully at the ground. The dog huffed and settled on the floor looking like some avant guard throw pillow. She snuffed curiously at the group and shuffled forward a few inches on her belly before peering up at Lacey to see if she was noticed.

“Stay. Like I said, still a puppy,” Lacey said fondly.

“What breeds do we suspect she is?” Damian asked.

“She’s definitely a large part chow,” Lacey answered. “She has the black mouth and everything. We’re guessing black lab maybe as some of the rest or some other sporting dog. From those breeds, and her behavior so far, she’s going to be loyal and protective. She will need to be exercised as specially at this age she’ll have a lot of energy, but I know you have the yard to let her run. Fetch or retrieval games will be great stimulation for her and walks can probably be kept pretty short, but I know that Damian could help you train her. Do you want to come over here and let her smell your hand? Or we could just let her settle in and wander the room.”

“I’ll, um…” Danny trailed off as he moved to sit down on the ground at Jason’s feet. He leaned forward and offered his hand, stretching out as far as he could.

The mass of fluff crept forward a few inches, then a few more, and the last few to where she was close enough to sniff at Danny’s hand. The curly tail started to wag before the dog gave Danny’s hand a lick.

A small smile lit up Danny’s face. “Oh, you’re just a big fluffy sweetheart, aren’t you?”

“She really is. She gives me the biggest puppy dog eyes every time someone passes her and doesn’t give her attention. She really wants nothing more than to be with people or other pets and part of a family,” Lacey said.

Danny watched the dog snuff at Danny’s hand before he decided that it was probably okay to move forward a little more so that he could pet the dog. His fingers sank into the thick black fur and the curly tail started to wag.

“She’s kinda like a big teddy bear,” Danny said, completely missing the look that Damian and Jason exchanged behind his back at that statement.

“Chows are like that.,” Lacey agreed. “They get a bad rep because they can be really protective of their owners, so if she’s the dog you go with, you will need to work on socializing her. Taking her to the dog park or things like that would be a good step.”

“It will help that there is such a large amount of family and acquaintances coming and going from the manor,” Damian added. “But if she is the dog that will be yours, we can easily set up a plan for socialization.”

“I, um, I’ve never adopted a pet before. How do I know if she’s the right one?” Danny asked.

“Seeing if you get a long is a good start. With a big dog like her, I think you should walk him a little and play some. We can try some tricks too and see how she listens to you,” Lacey said. “We have a two week trial window where if you think she’s the right dog, she’ll go home with you and you can see how it all works out. If it doesn’t, she comes back here no issues.”

Danny took in a calming breath and let it out. “Okay, let’s see how it goes.”

The dog was a lot. There was no doubt about that what with her size, but she did seem very eager to listen. She apparently walked very well with Danny, even if that was almost sandwiched up against Danny’s side between him and the road. It reminded him of how Jason always walked, as if guarding Danny from the world.

There back at the shelter now. Danny buried his fingers in the dog’s thick fur, ruffling it idly.

“What do you guys think?” he asked his brothers.

“I think that she will be a loyal dog for you,” Damian said, “and that training her may also be beneficial for you.”

“That,” Jason said, “and that she likes you already just like you like her already. I think the only real question is what’s her name going to be?”

Danny looked down at the almost bottomless seeming brown eyes that were staring adoringly back up at him. “Ursa. Her name’s Ursa.”

-

Ursa took to the Manor immediately— or at least took next to being by Danny’s side in the manor. His bed seemed much smaller with her laying next to him, but he had a feeling it he woke up that night with a nightmare that it wouldn’t last long.

His fingers tightened in her mane as he took a breath and hit send on the text message to Babs.

Her name is Jasmine Fenton.

[kazumist]

EPISODE 16 ★ ALMOST

FAKE IT TILL WE MAKE IT — A SCARAMOUCHE SMAU

masterpost / prev ep / next ep / timestamps don't matter

everything that happened after that… exchange with scaramouche (or kunikuzushi? you did agree to start calling him by his first name now) was a bit of a blur. it was surprising that none of your friends caught you and him during that close proximity (which, mind you, ended as soon as it started).

yet how come now you’re alone with him again? this is ludicrous!

“how did we end up here again?”

“we both wanted to get out of the event; everyone is far too busy with their own business inside anyway,” he answers, leaning more onto the railings of the balcony before the both of you. who knew that an event’s venue would have a balcony? 

right. you both wanted to get out for a while. 

but does it really have to be this awkward?

“about earlier…” he starts.

“it was nothing; we were just dancing. don’t worry about it too much.” it was anything but nothing, but even you didn’t know what it was.

awkward silence once again. but this somewhat helped kunikuzushi to think about some things in his life.

lately, he has gotten along with you more than you knew. it’s pretty ironic, honestly; back then, you’d disagree on most things. but how come now you have your own inside jokes? no one except him knew why you’d laugh at the sight of clownfish or how you’d soften up every time you saw the korilakkuma plush on your bed (though he doesn’t really need to know that). hell, even simple notes would remind him of you.

before either of you could even realize it, you both had your own influences on each other.

how ironic of him to feel comfortable around his rival, indeed.

now that you think of it, you didn’t really thank him properly for that plushie, right? (if your small mumble of “thank you” didn’t count for him, that is.)

everyone dies at some point, so it wouldn’t hurt to just give him a quick peck on the cheek, right?

right? 

kunikuzushi was still busy zoning out on the railings, so he didn’t really see your face coming closer by the second (you had your eyes shut too, so neither of you could really see each other).

but what did catch his attention was the sound of the approaching footsteps, which indicated where you were. he turned his head, and speechless was an understatement for his reaction.

it all happens so fast; the girl he's supposedly (fake) dating is suddenly coming up for a kiss, and someone is most likely going to open the door any second now. if he hadn’t turned his head, then maybe your lips would just land on his cheek, just like you planned. but now it was aiming for his lips as well—kunikuzushi doesn’t believe in god, but this is one of the rare moments where he’d actually ask for help from him.

hearing the click of the door, both of you retracted your actions immediately and turned your heads the opposite way, acting as if nothing had happened just now.

“oh! there you two are. we’ve been looking everywhere for y—wait, was i interrupting something?” childe’s voice was heard.

“you weren’t interrupting anything. why were you looking for us?” you asked him back, turning around and facing him. “nothing much, really. we just wanted to know where the two of you were since you suddenly disappeared after the whole dance.”

“oh. i think i’ve gotten my fair share of fresh air tonight, so i’m heading back in. kuni?”

kuni? where did that came from? all three of you thought. you were wondering how you even said that in the first place and mentally cursing yourself for it. kunikuzushi himself wondered where you got such a nickname, and childe wondered since when did you get on a first name basis.

“i’ll stay a bit longer. you go on ahead.”

maybe this was the sick feeling you had all along.

extra notes.

oh uhm. haha heyyyyy i suck at writing narrations so this is kinda hard to understand or imagine but ngl i had that one ohshc scene in mind while writing this LOL also shitty reason as to why you wld kiss someone's cheek haha sorry couldnt think of anything else rlly (its implied to be a thank you for everything rlly but. yeah)

CRYING PROM ARC IS FINALLY OVER i can move on to the next part !!!! war is over and yes this is the end

will they finally kiss? who knows (i have the right to remain silent)

synopsis.

what happens when scaramouche, your rival since the first year of highschool, had some annoying admirers on his back? easy—he (fake) dates you to shoo them off. nothing can possibly go wrong with faking a relationship with the guy you hate, right?

spoiler: apparently, a lot can go wrong.

taglist (open): @niiheng @yinyinggie @ilyuu @veekoko @motherscrustytoenailclippings @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @akairaindrops @kichiyoshi @lxkeeeee @user11918163805279 @sketcheeee @yukiipc @kyouzki @quokkatss @ynverse @yuyumaru @danhenglovebot @sheep-from-rad @gekkow @aeongiies @scararaw @beriiov @thenightsflower @simpforsubmissivemen @sakurapeach @akxtagawaxryxn0sxke @naheana @supernova25 @mitsu-moshi @yelleloww @kiyomi-hoku @kazemiya @theblueblub @lazy-sanns @kazuuhhaaaa @sukunasrealgf @alatusorrow @ahnneyong @bubiblossom @d4y-dr3am3r @featuredtofu @dappledstars @surgeonsofazeroy @reinoodle @venusflwers @gracefulace200 @dearestranpo @ggymj @izukusshuu [1/2]

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Earth & Fire

Chapter X - Home

06/22/2024

Pairing: Hades (Hozier) x Anthea (OFC)

Word Count: 4,533

Warnings: blood (ichor), wounds, a little more angst, fluff

Summary: Even though they made it back to the Underworld, Aidon's life still hangs in the balance.

A/N: All things end (to quote the man himself), and so does this story. This is really and truly the last chapter and I hand it to you with equal parts joy and sorrow. It feels great to finally be able to complete this story, after more than a year and almost 54,000 words in total, it feels like a real milestone. And yet it hurts to let these two go. They hold my heart, and I cannot believe their story ends here. At least for the time being... So, enjoy, I hope, while I will go to church tonight and praise my personal Jesus.

Earth & Fire - Masterpost

Divider by @firefly-graphics

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

Once again, nothing but pitch black darkness surrounded her. Faintly, Anthea remembered a time when this would have at the very least alerted her, but after everything that had happened in the past weeks, it did not even cause her the slightest bit of unease anymore. Still, she could sense that something was off. Maybe it was the silence, the complete absence of any sound beside her own breathing and the dull thudding of her pulse. Or it was the cold, the worst kind one could imagine, the one that spoke louder than any words. It spoke of loneliness, of the vacancy in her bed, beside her nothing but empty space, like the void he had left in her heart. In the distance, she could make out a faint glimmer that slowly crept closer, a winding stream of golden liquid, then another, more and more rivulets trickling in from all sides, collecting and then rising around her, higher, higher, then higher still until her whole body was surrounded by it. Frantically she kicked her feet, desperately trying to keep her head above the surface, but the gold clung to her like lead, pulling her down with a might she would not be able to fight against much longer. Still all Anthea could feel was this eerie sense of calm—and hope. Not for survival. No. This was the end, she was sure of it. But it did not even matter. Not anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. And so she exhaled, letting go of the last bit of air that kept her alive, his name falling from her lips as her breath passed them. 

Aidon.

“Sh, my flower. You’re safe now.”

Rough fingers brushed along her temple and cheek, their touch so gentle she would have recognised it among a million different touches. 

“Father,” she whispered and there was a slight hitch in his voice as he answered, “Oh, thank the Fates.”

Suddenly her hand was gliding through the air, a prickling sensation against the back of it, and when she opened her eyes, she found it pressed against her father’s face, tears clouding the usually so vibrant blue of his own. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you,” he squeezed her hand, “I had heard rumours of a disastrous fight in Olympia. There was talk of Zeus himself being involved, his temple obliterated, burned to the ground, and I was fearing for the worst. I was already on my way here to check on you when Thanatos came to tell me what had happened.”

“Thanatos?” Why would he of all gods go looking for her father? Why did the God of Death know what had happened at Olympia? If not…No! No, it could not be. He was not…he could not…

“Aidon!” Anthea cried out, pushing the sheets aside and rising from her bed in the blink of an eye. Her father hastened to get up as well, sensing what was about to come as her head suddenly began to spin. Strong arms wrapped around her and kept her on her feet, and still she struggled to escape her father’s hold, determined to cross the room no matter how ludicrous of an endeavour it seemed to be. 

“Anthea, he’s fine,” Hephaestus tried to reason with her. But his words did not break through to her in her frenzied state. “Listen to me, Anthea. He’s fine. Aidon is fine.” Finally she realised what he was saying and stilled in his arms. Through a veil of tears she tried to make out if he was telling the truth and she was just about to believe his words when suddenly he hesitated. “Well, at least he will be.”

“What do you mean ‘he will be’? Is he fine or not?” Her fingers fisted the dark fabric of her father’s chiton, but he only sighed. “Tell me, father.”

“I’m afraid it is not that easy, my flower. He may be a god, but other than usual, his wounds refuse to close. Injuries brought about by another deity tend to do that. He has also lost a lot of ichor, but there is still hope. I heard they have already sent someone to fetch him a drink from the Phlegethon. It is said to heal even the nastiest injuries.”

Anthea eyes went wide. She knew about the Phlegethon, the mighty stream of fire that wound its way through the Underworld, leading directly into Tartarus. There it would heal the tortured souls, readying them to be tortured yet again. But its healing powers came at a cost. If Aidon drank from the Phlegethon, it would most likely heal him, but in doing so, it would also burn through his veins like a blazing firestorm, causing him even more pain than he had already endured because of her foolishness. If only—

“Father, I need to see him.”

“Anthea, they are doing everything they can for him already. There is really nothing—”

“But there is!” Hephaestus looked at her in confusion. Of course he did not understand. How could he? He had not been there, at Olympia. He had not seen the powers she had wielded. “I need you to trust me on this, father.”

It took him a moment, but then his eyes softened and he sighed in defeat.

“Go then. I take it you know where to find him.”

She nodded. “Will you still be here later?”

“Of course, my flower.”

Anthea had already slipped out of his grasp and turned towards the huge door that led onto the balcony when she halted and turned to face Hephaestus once again. 

A faint smile played on his lips and his eyes still spoke of the relief he must be feeling upon seeing her alive and unharmed. She knew that feeling all too well, and as for a brief moment the images of this mountain of a man, shackled and martyred, returned to her mind, she couldn’t help but run into his arms again. 

“I love you,” she whispered, as she felt the familiar warmth that had been her safe haven all her life.

“I love you too, my sweet child.” He pulled her a little closer, one hand cupping the back of her head. “Now go. Whatever you think it is you can do for Hades, do it. He nearly gave his life to keep the promise he made to me.”

Anthea pulled away as she felt her father’s arms loosen around her form and with another nod, she set off.

Soft rays of sunlight welcomed her outside, soaking her skin in an unexpected warmth, and it was only then that she realised she was trembling. Under any other circumstances, Anthea might have stopped and noticed how much the Underworld had changed since she had last been here, but right now there was no room for sunlight, or flowers, or meadows and forests in the far distance, right now, all that mattered was him and she could not get to the place where she expected to find him fast enough. 

As she had hoped, the windows to his bedchamber stood wide open, but the curtains had been drawn, the dark fabric dancing in the light breeze that played around her. With shaky hands she reached for them, pulling them aside just far enough to slip through and let them close behind her again. 

Her eyes needed a moment to adjust to the gloomy blue light that barely illuminated the room, but when they finally did, she immediately made out his unmoving form on the bed. She was astonished to find him alone. Had her father not said that they were doing everything they could for him? But who were they and where were they now? Did this mean there was nothing more they could do for him? Surely there must be something to help ease his anguish until whomever they had sent to fetch some water from the Phlegethon returned. 

Quickly she stepped closer. Anthea could not tell whether it was just the cold light that surrounded them or if he was indeed this pale. He had never been the tanned type, but now his skin had lost even the slightest touch of rose it had ever possessed. There was no colour left at all, not even in his usually shiny pink lips, that now lay dried and sallow amidst his dark beard. Hollowed cheeks made his prominent cheekbones look even sharper, the contrast doubled by the darkened skin around his sunken-in eyes. Somebody had removed his clothing and covered his body with nothing but a light sheet, and still his forehead was shimmering from the tiny beads of sweat that had formed there. If it was not for the almost imperceptible movement of his chest whenever he drew in a shallow breath, nothing would have hinted at the fact that he was still the King of the Dead and not one of them himself.

It was only when she sat down beside him and reached for his hand that she noticed the huge stain of golden liquid that had already formed above his stomach. The fabric was soaked in it, and as she slowly but steadily watched the spot grow bigger by the second, she could not help the tears from coming, however much she had sworn herself to stay strong for his sake. 

“Aidon, please, you need to hold on,” she whispered as she leaned down to kiss his cheek, her voice breaking under the weight of the words she did not bear to say. Don’t leave me.

At least he was still warm, she thought as her lips found his skin, immediately hating herself for a thought like that. As if she could exist in a cosmos where this was not the case anymore. Even the idea was enough to drain the last bit of strength from her body, and she felt even more hot tears welling up in her eyes as she buried her face deep in the crook of his neck, as close as possible to the source of the beloved scent that rose from his body. His hand firmly pressed to her chest, every now and then, she could not help a soft sob from escaping her throat. Apart from that, it was silent, almost eerily so, even his breaths and heartbeat too shallow to be heard above her own. 

Anthea almost jumped out of her skin as out of nowhere, somebody chose to clear their throat somewhere behind her back. Her head shooting up from its resting place, she only then realised the soft, flickering shadows dancing on the walls. Warm tones of red, orange and yellow scared away the blue sheen that had covered them until now with ease. She was quick to turn, wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks and eyes in a hurry. And even though her vision was still a bit blurry, her gaze found the kylix with the dancing flames immediately. It was enchanting to watch them sway and flicker, to listen to their whispered chant, calling her. They spoke of hope, and as her eyes gradually wandered up the intruders form, she was eager to find out who she had to thank for their kindness of bringing it here. Anthea did not want to, but there was nothing she could have done to prevent her mouth from falling open as she finally took in the face illuminated by the flames. Minthe’s face.

Unable to utter a single word, Anthea watched the distance between herself and the nymph shrink with every step she took towards the bed. She did not halt, her steps never once faltering until she stood right before her, not more than an arm’s length away. She did not even look at Anthea. Instead, Minthe’s eyes were glued to the flames, even as her arms moved away from her body and held out the precious remedy for Anthea to take it. 

“What…no!” Anthea stammered. “I need your help. I’ve never…I don’t know how—”

“You do.” Minthe still did not spare her a single look as she spoke, her hands patiently holding out the kylix for Anthea to take it while her voice was cold as ice. 

More time passed, mere seconds, but enough to make Minthe sigh in frustration before she finally shoved the kylix into Anthea’s hands. She had already turned to leave, when she stopped barely long enough to say what she wanted to say. 

“Thank you for bringing him back.”

Her words came quietly, not even a whisper, but they were heartfelt and Anthea would have liked to reply. She was not sure what she might have said to the other woman, but Minthe took that choice from her as she hurried her steps to leave the room.

“Thank you.”

Anthea’s words followed her, but they probably did not reach the naiad before her body had melted into the shadows. Her eyes were still fixed on the darkness, when beside her a strained groan rose from the bed. 

“Aidon.”

In a second she was by his side again, careful not to spill the flaming liquid as she sat down next to him. One hand reaching for him, she softly caressed his cheek. It was clear that he needed rest, but what he needed most now was to drink the water from the Phlegethon so he could heal, and for that she needed him to be awake. 

“My love,” she addressed him, louder now than her tear-choked voice had allowed before, and to her great relief she could feel him respond. He stirred, his eyes reluctantly fluttering open. It took him a moment to focus and realise where he was, but then the softest of smiles graced his lips when his eyes found her.

“Aidon, I need you to drink this.” Anthea held up the kylix slightly so he could see it without having to move his head. “Do you think you can do that for me?”

He knew. He knew what was about to come, his body refusing to endure even more pain as his lips pressed together upon the thought, but still he nodded. 

“I’ll try to help, but first you need to swallow as much as you can bare.”

Her free hand dove underneath his head carefully and lifted it from the pillow. Anthea was reluctant to bring the kylix to his lips, it would hurt so much, making him feel as if he was burning alive from the inside and she was not sure if she possessed the same powers as he did and would be able to ease his suffering. But there was no other way. It was either that or—

Aidon must have thought the same as he had mustered the last bit of strength that still remained to wrap his hand around her wrist and guide her. He was quick to chug down the entire content of the kylix at once, despite the revolt of his body that stiffened beside her, his grip on her wrist tightening as he tried to fight his impulse to shove it away. He groaned and grunted, teeth biting down on teeth so hard Anthea feared they might chatter, and his eyes—she could not bare the anguish they held, begging her to make it stop, somehow, anyhow.

And so she let go of the empty kylix, ignoring the clattering as it rolled off the bed and hit the floor. She had no idea how, but she managed to move her hand to his chest despite his almost painfully tight grip on her. Anthea felt his burning skin underneath the palm her hand, felt the frantic beating of his heart that hurried to pump the blazing liquid through his veins, the heaving breaths he drew in between the waves of pain that rolled through him. But she needed to push all of that aside, needed to focus now, and even though she had no idea what exactly it was that she had to do, she could sense the stirring of her power as it flickered back to life. In an instant, it rose and flooded her whole being.

Please, make it stop. Help him. Make it stop.

She chanted the words in her mind over and over again. If her powers would listen and obey, if there was anything they could do for him at all, she had no idea. But suddenly the grip on her wrist loosened and his body went limp. 

Oh Fates, no. No, no, no. He could not be…he must not be…

“Aidon!” Anthea’s voice was shrill, a sound so strange to her own ears that at first she thought it had come from someone else. But then she heard it again, and the sting in her throat that went along with it told her unmistakably that it was indeed her own body that had produced this horrid sound. 

With a soft thud, his head fell back into the pillow as she busied her hands with the sheet that covered his body. Both hands fisting the cool fabric, she tugged, freeing his torso to reveal the ugly wound his brother had inflicted. And it was only then that she dared to breathe again. 

The change was subtle, still in progress, but the ichor came slower now with every passing second and soon she could watch the edges of his wound growing smaller, until it had closed completely. 

With a sigh she had kept buried deep inside for much too long, relief began to take hold of her, pushing aside the fear and despair and grief that had already been looming in the shadows. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as her hand found his chest and rejoiced upon the gentle up and down, the steady drum that calmed her like no other, until the own beat of her heart fell into step with his. 

It was done. He would live.  

He would live.

She could feel him. Long before her mind had shed the cloak of slumber. His touch. She would recognise it anywhere. 

His hand moved tenderly, gentle fingers gliding along her arm, all the way down to her hand where they entwined with hers. And then his lips were there, pressing to the back of her hand, his whiskers prickling enticingly against her sensitive skin. 

And when her eyes opened, they found his immediately. His gaze was soft, with a pinch of melancholy, before it lit up. 

“I thought I had lost you.”

“You…you thought you had lost me?” Anthea’s confusion could not have been any greater. Had she missed anything in these past hours? Had it not been her who had watched her love being pierced by the Master bolt? Who had barely made it back to the Underworld with him? Who had made him drink that heinous elixir, thinking she had killed him with it? Had it in fact been the other way around? “Aidon, I thought I had lost you. And I almost did.”

“Ah, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. And you,” he kissed her hand once more before he set it down in front of her and let go, “you’re free now. You can finally go home.”

Home? Whatever was that supposed to mean? Did he not know that there was no home without him? Not anymore. And never again.

She wanted to tell him, scream the truth into his face if that was necessary to make him realise the utter foolishness of his words. But all she could muster was a frown before he went on.

“You know, when I first came here, to the Underworld, I felt like my life had ended. I moved like a shade among other shades, all the goodness vanished from my life in an instant, like the sun, exchanged for this never-fading, eternal darkness. By the time you came along I had almost tricked myself into believing that it wasn’t so bad, that I had finally started to feel comfortable in the gloom, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. I know you feel the same about this place, who wouldn’t? And I could never ask of you to stay here with me. To share this misery I call life.”

“Aidon—” She needed to stop this nonsense at once, but he did not let her, shushing her with nothing but the sorrow in his watery eyes.

“But before you go, just know that I would do it all again, just to be with you for this blink of time we were allowed together.”

“Aidon, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s all right.”

“No, I mean I’m sorry to tell you, but I think you must have lost more ichor than you probably realise.”

“Excuse me?” The sudden confusion in his voice amused her beyond reason. This sweet little fool—her sweet little fool. Did he really think she would abandon him?

“Are you even listening to yourself? Aidon, I almost lost you. There is no way I am going to leave you now, not ever.” Anthea sat up beside him, first wanting to get up and pull the curtains aside, but then she thought better of it and with a mere flick of her wrist, they flew aside, letting the almost blinding light of the sun flood the room. She almost squealed in delight upon the ease with which her powers had bent to her will, but she was not finished making her point. “Besides, look around. Whatever happened here while I was gone, this place is so beautiful now. Why would I want to leave?”

“While you were…?” Aidon rose from the pillow himself, unable to suppress a little hiss as he lifted his arm to shield his eyes with one hand against the blinding light. “Anthea, this change did not happen while you were gone. It happened when we…the night you and I…”

“Oh!”

She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks and Aidon must have seen it too, coaxing the sweetest of smiles from his lips upon her flustered state.

“Exactly.”

“Do you think it has anything to do with…” Her fingers pointed back and forth between him and herself. “You know.”

Aidon chuckled. “How could it not? Two deities unifying like that.”

“Two deities…” Anthea frowned, turning her face towards the sun. “It’s still so unreal. I don’t feel like… I mean, are we sure I am—”

Anthea heard him chuckle again, and then his hand was there, warm and soothing, cupping her cheek to make her turn and face him again.

“Of course you are. No offence, but do you really think a mere mortal could have singlehandedly defeated the All-father? There is ichor running through your veins, my love, fire and earth bend to your will, the Cosmos saw Zeus defeated by those very powers…”

“By your powers as well.”

He huffed. “Whatever did I do apart from catching a lightning bolt with my stomach?”

She knew he had meant it as a jest, but the mere thought made Anthea flinch, and he pulled her close. It was invigorating to feel him like this, to rest her head against his shoulder while her hands dove into his hair, to give herself over into the safety of his loving embrace. Something she had almost lost, and suddenly it was her who felt the need to pull him closer.

“If it hadn’t been for you, I would never have even realised I had these powers.”

“I’m sure you would have found out eventually. And even if you hadn’t, this doesn’t disprove my point that it was all you.”

It was still incomprehensible, even though she had been there and lived through it. Had felt the power, had seen what she was capable of. And yet…

“But how is this even possible?” she asked as she pulled away slightly, just far enough to look into his eyes.

“That I don’t know—yet.” Anthea felt the strong impulse to close her eyes when his fingers only slightly brushed her temple as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “But we can try to find out together if you like.”

Anthea’s eyes went wide. “If I…Does that mean I can stay with you?”

“Look around you, love. You shaped this place into what it is now as much as I did. There is no way I could refuse your wish to stay, could I?”

Her heart fluttered upon his words, making her head spin a little as they truly sunk in and filled her with a warmth only he could cause inside of her.

“No, indeed you couldn’t.”

She found herself leaning in already, her lips gravitating towards his, and so did he. But then she thought better of it and pulled away. It was almost impossible to hide the wicked grin that wanted to break loose upon his dumbfounded face. 

“Although I could never stay knowing that I am only allowed to do so simply because it would be impolite to send me away.”

He knew she was bluffing, the slight twitch of his lips told her as much. He must be fighting just as hard to hold back a smile, but he did.

“I will have to think of a better reason then.”

Aidon’s eyes immediately dropped down to her lips and how she managed to stay serious and refrain from kissing him right away, only the Fates knew.

“You will.”

He took his sweet time, pretending to think about it hard, but then his fingers wove into her hair and when he spoke again, he had already pulled her impossibly close, his lips almost touching hers as he whispered, “How about this?”

She had missed this. Had missed him, the way he held her, the way his lips moved with hers, never demanding, never hurried, but gentle, enjoying her to the fullest, the softness of her lips, her sweet taste, the movement of her tongue against his as they slowly explored each other until the urge to breathe forced them to be sensible again, just for a moment, and their lips parted in a gasp.

“So?” he managed to pipe up between two breaths and the honest insecurity in his question astounded her. How could he ever doubt that this had not been enough to convince her? And still, she did not mind tasting more of his honeyed bribery.

“Hm, I am not sure if I understood you correctly. Could you maybe—”

He did not even leave her the slightest chance to finish that sentence before he let himself sink onto the mattress again, coaxing a squeal from her lungs as he pulled her with him. He winced a little on impact, but he left her no time to worry about it. Instead his lips sealed hers to silence any protest that might have formed. 

It would all fade eventually—the pain, the fury, the memory of the anguish they both had endured—until the only thing that remained was them. The God of the Underworld and the Guardian of the Balance of the Cosmos, Goddess of Earth and Fire. 

***

taglist:

@lowkeysimpinloki

@appreciating-fanfics

@notmanagingmymischief

@rosecentury

@fightmespideyboy

[1010ninetynine]

a masterpost of what i consider gay subtext in Uramichi Onii San - the Manga

not the Anime quite yet. no offense Touko Machida but I simply do not want to deal with two interpretations of the work at this point in time.

Generally Kinda Romantic Subtext Between Certain Characters that I Think Can Be Interpreted Either Way

Uramichi and Usahara I cite this for the near telepathic communication. Say what you will - married couples are known for this shit - and while it's definitely not anywhere close to confirmed that these two characters have strong feelings for each other, imo this was pretty gay of them. But to put it one way - are you really friends if people don't mistake you for a gay couple at times? imo not really.

additionally, while it might be just beginning chapter art...tell me where our favorite bunny is looking? Is he being respectful?

(honestly i do think usahara is straight but yk...this mangaka likes his gay men pathetic methinks so there is a chance!)

2. Uramichi and Iketeru

back when iketeru was in hs and uramichi's age isn't given - but i think they're the same age? anyway the lyrics over this scene are just...gay as hell. And they're helping a child find their mom. That is married couple behavior.

(obviously could just be a joke/not intended. their relationship is literally a gag on not understanding each other because iketeru is too happy for uramichi)

3. Kumatani and Iketeru

there's also some somewhat strong subtext between kumatani and iketeru. Like first, kumatani was the first guy who got the weird shirt iketeru found.

and next, the constant protection of iketeru from alcohol is courtesy of kumatani our mvp

he even protects him from our favorite loser

while not as extreme as his protection of HACHITA THE BABY it is still noticeable that Iketeru is someone he cares about.

and both kumatani and iketeru hid their love life from the camera (as did the whole cast hehe). Kumatani literally says his love life isn't family friendly - which can mean a lot of things, including that he's homosexual. Iketeru says it's too beautiful to be shared - which can mean anything really, even that he's straight and had a normal love life that he ain't willing to share.

Imo this sequence of behaviors can be read one of two ways. First of all, you'd have to be blind to not see the obvious resemblance between Iketeru and Hachita, so the affection and thus acceptance of strange gifts due to their similarity is natural. But also...gay? Hmmmmmmmmmm

4. Uramichi and Kumatani

They kind of just hang out a lot, and Kumatani regularly reads more positivity in Uramichi than is probably there. Not really as showstoppingly romantic as the other three examples of subtext, but imo still quite a nice bit of fun in its own right. They're probably the ship easiest to imagine writing besides kumatani and iketeru and my personal favorite but before we get to that...

The Predatory Gay Man I Must Mention For The Completionist In Me

ok look. homophobic caricature he may be. but i said I would catalog all gay subtext in uramichi and imo on this website gay subtext include gay text (hxh moment) and capellini furitsuke is in fact. gay. and a horrible predatory man the likes of which rival your worst coworker. And probably beat him.

he torments the men around him and forces them to engage in behavior they're not interested in. i cite here usahara and saito's mistreatment but there might be more I missed.

like you can't describe capellini's behavior as anything but horrid and disgusting. i'll call uramichi onii san many things - particularly pro-lgbt in terms of rep isn't close. Still love it in general - and I'm pretty sure the author himself is gay given the ludicrous amount of male character thirst traps he draws - but i don't think he likes that about himself tbqh. But I don't really know him - just go on his twitter now and then.

Finally, the moment I've been waiting for but you all don't realize is coming maybe idk

Uramichi and Kikaku - a mostly one sided love story

This relationship isn't so much implied as it is easily ignorable yet true: it is obviously intended to be read as a love story of sorts, whether it be a gag about how lonely uramichi is and how he needs some emotional connection, or just plain 'he's gay'. This is literally the only guy who gets the door to Uramichi's heart regularly attempting to open treatment, let alone the fact that when Kikaku begs Uramichi to help him out with work he always agrees...maybe more so due to fear than genuine care but still.

there's probably more examples, but these are enough to prove my point imho

he also invites Kikaku to the first end of year party (there aren't any others at the time of writing, specifying in the case of a reader from the future)...or attempts to. Not to Saito Uebu or any other staff member - perhaps because he expects the ones he's closer to already be there, but still - specifically the guy who's only ever bothered him to help complete his work. It's what being horrifically lonely and dick brained does to you (i would know that best).

which leads to yet ANOTHER HEART DOOR SCENE THING

so uh yeah. uramichi's constant giving in to kikaku i think makes more sense if we consider the (slight) romantic inclination he ""might"" have for him.

BONUS: Uramichi and Utano had a moment that was pretty cute but not enough to qualify as subtext in my eyes because they kind of have no chemistry in canon so i still get to title this gay subtext but I also like them

[mimssides]

3. Competition

Logan Sowa does not take breaks or take care of himself. So Janus and Patton have no other chance but get him into a self-care competition with his biggest nemesis (?) Jewel.

Link to the story on AO3 | Masterpost | Taglist

"Logan!" Patton called at the edge of sounding almost annoyed.

The taller man didn't look up from his notes and continued to chew on his smart pen. Janus, who had agreed to study with his boyfriend and Logan, looked up from his book and glanced from Patton to Logan. Seeing Patton actually getting a little angry, was a far more intriguing prospect than any of the theory and he decided to keep watching.

"Logan stop and look at me," Patton demanded.

Casually Logan shifted a little on his chair but didn't lift his eyes from his work.

"Whatever should I stop? Studying? Bouncing my leg? Chewing my pen? For the latter two, I will apologize and leave to work at another table. For the first, I will not apologize but leave nevertheless if you intend on stopping me from my work."

To Janus' surprise, that was what let Patton overreact and his otherwise so gentle partner pulled Logan's tablet away from him. Finally, Logan looked up and-

Ah, now Janus had an idea what Patton's motivation for interrupting Logan would be. The bloodshot eyes and cracked lips of their friend spoke enough for themselves. He gave up on looking unaffected and sat back in his chair with his arms crossed. Logan glared at him but soon directed his attention back to Patton.

"You are being ludicrous. I am not done with reviewing my notes yet and I need to get my summary ready until tonight," Logan said coldly.

Shockingly, Patton rolled his eyes at that and asked: "Are you required to have that summary ready until tonight or is that a deadline you put on yourself?"

"Irrelevant. I'm ought to-"

"No, no, no. I know you and you're competing against someone in this and it's getting out of hand again."

"Incorrect! None of the other students in my class are as far in their review as I am, to my knowledge! I have no need to compete with any of them," Logan insisted and slammed his fist down on the table.

Janus looked at him wide-eyed. That was a rather strong reaction. Even when Logan was agitated, and that happened more often than the man let on, he had never gotten to the point of physically punching or destroying something. Patton on the other hand didn't even seem to be phased at all. He handed the tablet to Janus, stood up from the chair and sat down next to Logan.

Logan's breath was a little shallow but the upset in his eyes had lessened. Patton put his left hand on the table and tapped it rhythmically as he softly said: "This is an issue. You're not taking care of yourself just so you can compete with your own expectations."

He waited for Logan to talk back or otherwise disagrees. But he didn't. And so Patton laid his hand on Logan's back and continued to pat in the pattern he had before.

"Okay, I think before we can talk about this productively, you need to calm down. It's never good when you begin to start using your outdoor voice with me."

"I apologize. I shouldn't take out my bad mood on you. Especially, since I know that you hate shouting," Logan said meekly.

His eyes were fixed on the table and Patton shot Janus. While the conversation had been a tad too intimate for him to participate, Janus saw that his boyfriend now required his help.

As calm and collected as he always was, he leaned forward and pushed his hand over the table into Logan's field of vision. The physics student lifted his gaze to him and Janus settled for a neutral look. He knew that Logan could be difficult just out of spite and the need to not be pitied. So he would have to be a little sly about this.

"We both are aware that Patton gives better advice when it comes to emotions than both of us combined, correct?" Janus said.

There were some not-quite-ideal wrinkles around Logan's nose, which usually meant that he was going to argue but he ended up nodding at Janus' words.

So far so good, Janus decided and went on: "So, I would suggest taking a break; actually, we all should take a break. I at least am starting to see things double and I am almost sure that my dearest Pat is in dire need of some sugar. Which means it would be very convenient for all of us to just close our books for a moment and relax at the café nearby."

Now Janus was met with the defiance he had expected from the very beginning. Logan didn't want to leave his work. He didn't want to go to a café and "waste" his time. He didn't give into any of Patton's pleas or Janus' arguments. Even though he had just admitted his tiredness a few minutes prior, he was now vehemently against taking a break. Janus felt like he was dealing with an overgrown toddler at the moment and was rather relieved when his phone binged and let him know that Remus had just sent him a message.

Quickly he unlocked the screen and let his eyes fly over the text just to halt at once. With one single motion, he lifted his hand and halted Patton and Logan's argument and brought his phone to his ear as he had started a phone call.

"Why do you need to know the whereabouts of my self-care box?" Janus asked with all the suspicion in the world.

Remus huffed at the other end which was not an indicator of any shenanigans happening right now. Not a good sign.

"We're dealing with a tired overachiever and I think she needs aaaaall the aloe vera you could possibly smear on her face."

Janus blinked.

"You wouldn't speak of Jewel?" he asked to make sure.

"Just that one, yeah." - "He's overexaggerating!" - "No, he isn't!"

With a sigh, Janus pinched the bridge of his nose. Why on earth could he not have some laid-back friends? People who do understand how to not overwork themselves?

"I will have to put it in a new location after this but go to my part of the closet, behind my work pants - yes, I need different pants for my job, stop calling me that - yes, there's the box. I will kill you if you touch my jasmine bathing oil. The rest is fair game."

Remus said something but he could barely hear him over the protests coming from Jewel in the background. She was almost as annoying as Logan was in his protests and that said something, in Janus' opinion.

"Yours sounds almost as bad as our self-care patient," Janus joked dryly.

"There is no way I'm as bad as her," Logan piped up from his earlier silence.

"Logan be nice," Patton chided. "Also, you don't even know what she has been doing. Aand I have to admit that I have a hard time imagining that she's being more difficult than you are right now."

Logan stared at Patton as if he had grown a second head.

"I have to agree with him, Sowa," Janus said rather done after he had hung up on Remus. "You're acting like an overgrown toddler and while dear Jewel can be quite a diva, I can't see her throw a tantrum like you do right now."

Logan sputtered and promptly turned his tablet off. Confused the couple watched him as he threw his things into his bag and stood up with a determined look.

"What exactly are we witnessing right now?" Janus asked when Logan didn't walk right out to study somewhere else.

"Isn't it obvious?" Logan asked as if it was obvious. "I will prove to you that I am far better at relaxing than Choi. Where was that café you were talking about yesterday?"

Nonchalantly he turned away and looked out of the window into the direction of the café Patton had mentioned a few days prior.

Patton's first instinct was to question if Logan felt alright but Janus soon stopped him. With just one look he managed to convey that they could use this as an opportunity. Idly he packed his things up and had Patton show them the way to the café. Amused he listened to Logan ranting about how he was much more relaxed than Jewel and exchanged humoured looks with Patton as the physics major pulled his bike along.

It was about twenty minutes in the café when Logan's complaints slowly faded out and he started curiously looking through the decore and noted that some of the design choices were somewhat peculiar. Patton laughed and told him that was why he liked it and not a minute later Logan grinned and rolled his eyes at Patton's passionate defence of the odd-looking ceramic frogs which were sitting on each table.

It took two overpriced muffins, which Janus paid for, and a cup of really sugary black tea, which Patton paid for, for Logan's shoulders to relax completely and his eyes to droop slightly as he leaned back into the comfortable armchair. Patton had been chattering away a few moments ago but had fallen silent too. He was now sipping contently on his hot cocoa and Janus looked at Logan who was people-watching.

It was extraordinary how peaceful he could look, Janus mused. Logan was always on the run, always planning, moving, thinking about what was to come next, and he barely noticed anymore how restless he truly was. How he always seemed to be tired and yet never heard him talk about having a bad night's sleep or that he needed to get to bed earlier. Patton too never talked about his sleeping pattern and Janus was starting to the suspicious of it.

Right now he had leaned his elbows on the table and had put his head on his hands, as a new customer came through the door and walked to the counter. Tired, yet sharp eyes followed them and Janus could almost see how a picture was forming in Logan's head. How he was making up a background for this girl looking at the menu above the cashier, quickly looking back down and laughing slightly as she was asked what she wanted to order.

Maybe he looked almost too peaceful Janus decided. But that he could change easily enough.

"She wouldn't be your type, would she, Sowa?"

Logan turned his head around harshly. Something in his neck made a very unhealthy-sounding cracking sound and Patton winced just as he heard it. Logan though didn't seem to care. Wide-eyed he stared at Janus, the frown deepening the wrinkles between his eyes.

"Why would she be my type?" Logan asked defensively.

Janus chuckled and said simply: "Well, while I don't see the appeal in the other gender, I can admit that a woman with humour and charm and the little je-ne-sais-quoi can be quite intriguing."

Logan's head sank between his shoulders and Janus watched how he began to pick apart the empty sugar package for his tea.

"I would appreciate it if you wouldn't make fun of me for my apparent ... intrigue. It is not a topic I feel comfortable talking about," Logan said quietly.

Janus exchanged a look with Patton. His boyfriend seemed rather surprised at the relevation. One reason more for Janus to poke a little deeper and he teased Logan: "Oh, I don't intend to make fun of you, Sowa. I was simply joking. There wasn't any actual indication that you were fancying her, except for the intense look. Though I didn't think you were into brunettes."

"Jewel is a redhea-" The words of surprise died in Logan's mouth as he saw the confusion on Janus' and Patton's faces.

It took ten full seconds before Logan pressed his forehead against the table and buried his head beneath his arms. Janus began snickering and Patton hit him on the arm before he got up and walked around the table to coo and shoo at Logan. He tried to tell him that it was all okay when he mumbled upset against the wood.

"What was that, Lo?"

"I said," Logan grumbled through his arms, "that I should have known your stupid boyfriend was talking about the girl at the counter and not Jewel who's having a blast with Virgil and Remus and is decidedly happy that I'm not there."

One more death glare from Patton and Janus seized his snickering. Patton sat down on the chair next to Logan and pulled one of his arms away from his head. Gently he squeezed his hand and waited for him to meet his gaze.

"Oh, Lo," he said sadly, "you don't know that. You don't know that she's happy you're not there. While you two are not on the best terms, she always respected your boundaries and tried to honour your wishes."

"I don't know what that's supposed to change?"

Patton's sigh sounded so incredibly tired that Janus straightened up in his chair and Logan gulped.

"Did you ever consider that she keeps her distance because she thinks you want her to stay away from you? I know what it looks like when you try to be cordial but are a bit awkward and standoffish instead-"

"Hey"

"-but she doesn't. She's only become friends with us in the past few months and it's hard to get a read on five different people, especially of someone who intentionally makes it hard for people to get to know him."

Logan didn't say anything for a long time. Patton let him. Eventually, he told Janus to go to the front and get them all another round of hot cocoa. It was then, that he coaxed Logan to sit up and look at him. It wasn't often that Patton got to see Logan like that. That he got to see his vulnerable pout and his quivering lips. It was almost rarer that he would lean against Patton and let him side-hug him as he did now.

"And what about 25?"

It was soft and not accusing, the way Patton asked. Logan still sighed guiltily.

"I don't know, Pat," he admitted. "I'm certain that at this point I am in love with him. As much as you can be in love with some man you met online at least."

"So, why Jewel now?"

Logan posed and looked down at his lap.

"She's here... She's talented... She's way smarter than people give her credit for. Maybe it's not love yet but - She's here. She keeps looking at me when I don't know what to do and suddenly I get an idea. I don't know if it's to spite her or because of her and I want to find out, Pat. I want to apologize but nothing I think of is good enough. I had a terrible day when I made her cry but that doesn't excuse my words and she just didn't let me say anything then and refuses to listen now. I lost my window to do right and now I'm stuck being her enemy number one and I - I hate it, Patton."

Patton just made a soft noise of understanding as Logan slumped together. Logan didn't share his feelings with others usually, often because he wasn't quite sure what he was feeling in the first place. But it didn't get easier when Logan knew what he felt. With some feelings, it got much harder to share them once he knew what it was. And guilt decidedly was one of them.

Janus returned with three cocoas and sat them down in front of Patton and Logan. He tried to be unintrusive but Logan still sat up straight and embarrassed looked to the edge of the table. Janus shot a helpless look to Patton who just shook his head. It wasn't Janus' fault and there was nothing they could do.

"No sinde remarks Anderà?"

"About what?" Janus said sharply.

He saw how Logan was about to retort but instead cut him off and replied: "About your human condition? I have stated before that I can be a bitch but I draw a line at being cruel, Sowa. I'm sorry that you don't think your affection will be returned, but I'm not going to treat you like a porcelain doll."

Janus paused and inhaled deeply. Reluctant he softened his tone to add: "I don't know how to deal with your situation with Jewel. She's much harder to see through than I initially thought. What to do next is beyond me and yet I would probably advise you to talk to her. Otherwise, you'll never know what you're working with.

Logan didn't verbally respond. He only nodded and took another moment to stare out of the window of the café. The couple tried to wordlessly exchange what they were supposed to do now but ended up with nothing. They just kept quiet as Logan picked up his cup of cocoa and sipped on it with a thoughtful expression on his face.

And no, it wasn't that Logan didn't care for Patton and Janus' inputs. It wasn't that he didn't believe their observations and advice. It was something else that made Logan stop. While it was partially guilt and his shame over how he had treated her, it was also the fact that he had grown so very fond of 25 over the past few months. Patton might have heard him speak about him, might have seen his smitten look when he met him for the first time, but there was no way that Patton could ever understand how it felt to have 25 so close to him.

The way he understood and saw him was amazing. He had shared with him that he had already started with his thesis, and how much he loved and adored his chosen work even though it was driving him crazy half of the time. He understood that while his working ethic seemed borderline destructive that it also was his best way to cope with his insomnia.

Was he a bad friend for never having told Patton about it? Should he have shared this with him ages ago? It wasn't like Patton would scold him for it.

The thoughts twirled and twiddled around in his head for another second before his phone binged in his pocket. Lazily he pulled it out of his pocket and opened the message he had gotten.

His smile came immediately. Patton asked what it was and Logan took another second before he was ready to share the image he had just been sent by Virgil. Patton cooed almost instantly and even Janus looked a little amused when he saw the picture of Jewel's head on Remus' lap, face obscured by a beauty mask but clearly asleep.

Logan took his phone back. Despite himself he smiled warmly at the picture once more and typed in his reply to Virgil: "I suppose she wins this round. I wish her the best dreams and congratulate her for besting me in relaxing."

[wowbright]

Fic: Reid or Romney

Klaine Spring Fling: ballot

Words: ~1700 words

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Emma introduces some new terminology to the missionaries.

This is part of my Mormon!Klaine universe. It takes place directly after Flash Fire, which I posted yesterday. I am planning to post a follow-up scene to this tomorrow or whenever I get done writing it.

My Mormon!Klaine Masterpost. (More recent posts are in bold.)

––––

Emma and Karl knew how to present a meal. There were entrée platters and salad plates and bread plates of coordinating Rosenthal china, an abundance of specialized flatware, and two wineglasses at each setting—one for water and one for soda. The white tablecloth was starched, and the Belgian lace on its edges matched that on their napkins.

The food was just as pleasant, a mix of German and contemporary dishes with the perfect balance of salt and savory.

Emma cheerfully told the missionaries about her work as a school psychologist, which more like a district-level administrative position than like being a school counselor in the United States. She said she worked one-on-one with students sometimes, but mostly she focused on educating teachers so they could better support their students. She was working on a series of pamphlets that used humor to address issues students commonly faced. “Not that much humor,” she said, “because the administration isn’t ready for that. But just enough to get kids wanting to read.”

Karl, for his part, was more congenial than when Kurt had met him at his dental office. He was more handsome, too, with frequent smiles and civilian clothes that fit more snugly than scrubs. He told stories about his year of military conscription, which sounded similar to missionary service in many ways: strict hours, uncomfortable beds, constantly pushing yourself (including through tedium), and bit of a fraternity aura about things—though with a tad more freedom. Conscripts had more time off, and were free to visit and make phone calls home or go party in the city. Under German law, they couldn't be sent to battle or even out of the country. It wasn't a terrible life.

“I made a lot of friends there,” Karl said. “Maybe because I was the base’s most reliable designated driver! But they didn’t get that my choice not to drink was for real. When your conscription ends, it's traditional to spend the entire weekend getting drunk and asking random girls to kiss you when, and they thought, surely, I would drink for that. I didn’t, and at first, they decided I was a pill. But then, when they realized I had to ask for all those kisses without the benefit of inebriation, they decided I was the cool one!”

Emma slapped Karl’s wrist affectionately. “I'm sure the missionaries don't need to hear about your conquests!”

“Oh, they weren’t conquests. It was a chore. The whole thing was a terrible chore. And then I got mono a few weeks later, so.” Karl shrugged and popped an olive into his mouth. “Besides, I would argue that the end of missionary service isn't that much different. Don’t your missionary presidents tell you to go home, date as many people as you can, and marry the first one who seems like a good fit?”

Elder Anderson nodded. Kurt slapped his knee under the table. Missionaries should never nod their heads to things that sounded ludicrous, even if they were true.

“It seems to me that's far more scandalous,” Karl said. “Jumping from mission to marital bed in no time flat.” He turned to Emma. “Have the sisters broached to the law of chastity lesson with you yet?”

“They've mentioned it.”

“And what have they mentioned?”

Schwester Wilde cleared her throat. “We don't have to talk about that right now. We're still eating dinner.”

“Oh,” said Emma. “I don't mind. It's not like Karl and I have anything to hide from each other in that area.”

That's what Kurt had been afraid of. Moving in together before you got married was dangerous territory. Emma had mentioned it having something to do with her rental term ending before the wedding, but Karl was raised in the church. He should have known better.

“So,” Emma said. “The law of chastity. It's like with the Catholics, right? No sex outside of marriage?”

“Exactly,” said Schwester Rose. She took a sip of her drink. Kurt thought he noticed her coloring go slightly pink.

“Well,” Emma said, “That's not really a problem for me. As long as we're not required to have it when we’re married.”

The sisters looked at Emma like she’d just said something in Chinese. So did Elder Anderson. Kurt, who tried not to let anything an investigator said surprise him, was pretty sure he looked the same way.

Meanwhile, Karl was looking down at his plate, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

“What?” Emma said. “There are requirements? Do you have some weird sex ceremonies like the Moonies?”

Wait, thought Kurt. The Moonies have weird sex ceremonies?

Schwester Wilde quickly regained her composure. “No. No requirements. It's between husband and wife. I mean, I suppose we would say that the married couple should carefully consider whether they are called to create a home for children, and one shouldn't withhold from their spouse in anger or bitterness, but … no requirements.”

“Oh, I see,” Emma said. “I don't withhold out of bitterness or anger, I'm just not very interested in that sort of thing. I’m asexual. Or maybe graysexual. I’m not completely sure. But, well, I'm not aromantic, obviously, or I wouldn't be in love with Karl! I guess we’ll try it eventually, if we both feel it’s right.”

Once again, the missionaries found it impossible to disguise their shock.    

Karl set his hand on Emma’s. “Dear, I know I told you that Mormons are prudish about sex. But they're also prudish about not having sex.”

“What?” said Kurt. “We're not scandalized.”

“I hope not,” Emma said sympathetically. “I spent so many years being ashamed of sex and my lack of interest in it until I met Karl and he helped me start figuring it out. It's really nothing to be scandalized by. All the feelings are natural, whether you’re a person who's interested in sex or not. Whatever degree you feel—it’s just the way you are. You know, I think I have a pamphlet about it I can give you to look at. Or maybe you can only give pamphlets and not receive them? There seem to be a lot of rules around being a missionary.”

“We’d be happy to take any pamphlets you want to give us,” Elder Anderson said.

Kurt kicked his companion’s foot under the table. Elder Anderson knew very well they shouldn’t be taking pamphlets of any kind, especially ones about sex, or about not having sex, or— well, whatever Emma’s pamphlets were about. His politeness sometimes overruled his common sense.

The topic shifted to other things. Karl was a news junkie, it seemed, and he apprised the missionaries of the top headlines they had missed thanks to their sequestration from media. The European Parliament election was coming up, which led to Karl explaining the entire EU governmental system to the American elders. It was a good distraction from the law of chastity.

“How do elections work for you, elders, when you are in Germany?” Emma asked. “In Germany, we have absentee ballots for people who are traveling abroad. Do you have the same thing in America?”

“Oh,” Elder Anderson said, as if someone had just pinched his toe. “Yes, I think so. But we don’t vote while we’re on a mission.”

Emma set down her fork. “I’m sorry?”

“Well,” interrupted Kurt, because he was worried that Elder Anderson might be one of those missionaries who thought it was literally against the rules to vote while on a mission, “in America, you can get an absentee ballot if you're not in your district when you vote, but since we're on a mission, and we don’t have time to keep up with all the news from home, a lot of missionaries choose not to vote,” Kurt said. “Unless, of course, voting is required by law in their country of origin. We always comply with laws. But voting is optional in the United States.”

Emma frowned. “That's too bad. I think it's the duty of a citizen to participate in government. Religion shouldn't dissuade people from doing so.”

“Oh,” Kurt said. “The church doesn't dissuade us at all. It's a personal choice, really.” He wasn't sure he was being entirely truthful. When he'd asked his bishop back home if he knew where Kurt should have his ballots sent when he was in Germany, his bishop had asked him to reconsider. I didn't vote on my mission, and I think that was part of why my mission went so well. It was a presidential election year, just like it will be for you, and some of my fellow missionaries kept trying to sneak looks at newspapers to find out what the candidates were up to. It was very disruptive.

Kurt had thought that was weird reason. Kurt wouldn’t need to look at newspapers. A Mormon was running for president. He already knew who he should vote for.

But Kurt followed his leader’s counsel because that’s what you were supposed to do. He only found out, while a greenie to Elder Brody, that plenty of missionaries voted while on their mission. “What? Your bishop told you not to vote? That’s ridiculous! That’s disenfrachisement.” And then, pausing to look out the window. “Eh, maybe it’s for the best. You would’ve voted for Romney anyway, like all the other tools in this mission.”

“What’s wrong with Romney?”

“His politics,” Elder Brody said. “If you want a Mormon for president, get Harry Reid on the ballot.”

Elder Brody might have been right. Maybe it was for the best. Truth told, Kurt already liked Obama better than Mitt Romney, anyway. He’d just wanted to vote for Romney because he thought it would make him more righteous.

After dinner came dessert, and after dessert, it was time for Emma’s official discussion. Kurt and Elder Anderson weren’t sticking around for that, though; they had another discussion scheduled for the evening.

Before they left, Emma looked for the sex/not-sex pamphlet in her office, but couldn’t find it. “It must be at work. I can get a copy for the sisters to give to you, Elder Anderson. Or bring a copy to church, maybe?”

“That would be—” Elder Anderson started.

“No,” Kurt interrupted. “Thank you, but we're fine.”

[risukadarlin]

[ikemen vampire] leonardo da vinci - track six

6; an unfair goodnight

masterpost

                                                                    ✿

[00:09] Oh, you’re awake?

Hm? Yeah. I was awake the whole time.

I couldn’t stop looking at you.

Before I knew it, it was too late to sleep.

[00:29] The cigarette smoke isn’t blowing in your face, is it?

That’s good.

What was I thinking, you ask?

I was thinking about when I first met you.

I thought you were cute from the moment I laid eyes on you.

But, to be honest, I never thought we’d end up as lovers.

I’m an immortal vampire and you’re a human, right?

Our existences are as different as night and day…

I tried to draw a line between us and the possibility of love.

I thought it’d be selfish to add something else to your already ludicrous life.

It’s almost evil for someone who lives forever to steal the time of someone whose life is limited.

So I tried my best not to fall in love with you.

[01:46] Isn’t it strange?

You’d already taken up a room in my heart before I could do anything to stop it.

That’s true, even now.

You know, little miss.

I can’t imagine spending my future with anyone but you.

Life without you would be so boring and dull and lonely.

So…

Keep getting mixed up in my life.

I want you to be there, next to me, for the rest of my life.

Oi, oi.

Why are you crying?

You’re good at making me buy my cigarettes.

Right then.

Here, I’ll hug you, so calm down.

Hey…

I love you…

Even more than you think.

What?

I needed to say that, you know.

Yes, yes.

You’re always like this.

Cry as much as you want.

We have loads of time until morning.

I won't let you go until then.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 20, part three(!)

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

This episode has so much crucially important stuff in it I had to write 3 posts about it! Part one is here, part two is here. 

Don't Start None, Won't Be None

Lan Wangji has never had a real fight with Wei Wuxian before--remember, in their rooftop fight Wei Wuxian never even drew his sword. And since this is going to be a verbal fight, Lan Wangji is going to lose, badly. He's an elegant and articulate speaker, but he's not quick with words, and he speaks directly and sincerely. Weaponized speech is not his area at all, so he's pretty much bringing a knife to a gunfight. A guqin to a flute fight. Whatever. He tries to turn it into a physical confrontation, twice, but Jiang Cheng holds him back.

This throwdown is 100% about religion and orthodoxy; something that is fundamental to both of these young men's lives. Lan Wangji has made it his mission to be as orthodox as possible, doing shit like volunteering to be beaten for drinking when he didn't choose to drink. He's constantly overwhelmed by emotion, and the Lan rules are a source of regulation and safety for him. His emotions around Wei Wuxian are among the most overwhelming he's got, possibly only second to his feelings about his mom.

Right now his feelings are extra overwhelming. 

It's complicated because his relationship with Wei Wuxian literally started off with him punishing Wei Wuxian for heterodoxy. All that time they spent together in the library? Was because Wei Wuxian talked--JUST talked--about using resentful energy for cultivation. Which is precisely the ability he's just shown them, along with a style of killing enemies that's borderline evil and definitely, DEFINITELY unsportsmanlike.

So this is not, Lan Wangji is lovingly worried about Wei Wuxian and Wei Wuxian is pushing him away to avoid an uncomfortable conversation. This is Lan Wangji freaking out because his entire system of belief is being challenged and he's in love with the person who's challenging it.  

Wei Wuxian has shown up to the party wearing an International Mr. Leather tee shirt with a enamel pin stuck to it that says "I get my kicks on route 666" and Lan Wangji just. cannot. deal.  

Never Start a Fight But Always Finish One

Wei Wuxian has a couple of options here. One is to accept, kindly, that he and his friend can't be friends any more because of religion. In this option, in order to preserve his friend's comfortable sense of being right, he would have to tacitly accept that he himself is bad in some way, and allow his friend to keep having his value system, while walking away from him.  

The other choice is to hit so hard that he makes his friend feel really, really bad, and potentially rocks him off of his comfortable foundation. In the short term, the friendship breaks, but if it forces him to actually question his value system, it might lay the groundwork for a new, more accepting friendship.  Anyone who is queer with an anti-queer-religious best friend is probably familiar with this dilemma.

Wei Wuxian chooses the second option, and goes all in from the first moment, calling Lan Wangji "Lan Er Gongzi" and then upgrading to "Hanguang Jun" and even bowing. If it's possible to bow sarcastically, that's what Wei Wuxian is doing. Then he meets his eyes and sticks his chin out, essentially saying "how do you like them apples?"

(more after the cut!)

Lan Wangji's feelings are probably hurt, but he's too busy being mad to show it, and he goes straight to grilling Wei Wuxian, asking him about the killing, the talismans, and giving up the sword, all while Jiang Cheng stands by and wonders what the fuck is happening. 

Lan Wangji is making a fundamental error here, which is he's speaking as if he's an authority instead of as a peer. Wei Wuxian has only ever accepted one authority in his entire life, and that was Jiang Fengmian. Jiang Cheng is the one who, for a change, is approaching as a worried friend, while Lan Wangji approaches as if he has the right to call Wei Wuxian to account.  

Wei Wuxian won't answer his questions and is getting in his face, provoking him in a very quiet and controlled way, and Lan Wangji responds by just being really aggressive. It's interesting to see Wei Wuxian completely mastering his emotions while Lan Wangji is completely....not.  Wei Wuxian pushes harder, saying he's being rude, saying he's being a bad friend.  Which doesn't make any difference to Lan Wanji, who keeps pressing for an answer while Jiang Cheng wonders what the fuck is happening.

Come to Gusu

Wei Wuxian says he already explained, that it's complicated, it will take time to explain, so then Lan Wangji makes the utterly dumbassed demand that Wei Wuxian return to Gusu with him to explain it. What, exactly, is his plan? Bring Wei Wuxian to Gusu and have Lan Xichen (at the very least) and probably also Lan Qiren help him to convince Wei Wuxian that resentful cultivation is bad? How is that likely to work out? Let's have our own flashback, to that classroom interaction that led to the punishment in the library.

Lan Qiren: How will you make sure the resentful energy will only listen to you and not harm others? [Note: he's not wrong, Wei Wuxian] Wei Wuxian: I haven't figured that out yet ["details," as OP's dad used to say] Lan Qiren: If you did, the cultivation world would not allow your existence [i.e. we, the Lan Clan of Gusu, will kill your ass]

Lan Wangji probably doesn't think he's threatening Wei Wuxian with death by inviting him to Gusu, but he kinda is, if Lan Qiren was serious back then.  Lan Wangji is so upset and fearful that he's not really thinking clearly at this point. He loves Wei Wuxian and he's certain that cultivating with resentful energy will destroy him. [Note: he's not wrong, Wei Wuxian]  But Wei Wuxian is beyond fear. He's already been destroyed once.

Wei Wuxian rips on Gusu and then says, in a super-provocative way, that he prefers Yunmeng, which prompts Lan Wangji to say "don't joke around" as angrily as possible. 

This part of the interaction always confuses me because...shouldn't he prefer Yunmeng? He's actually from there and lives there and belongs there and stuff? He's just saying "I think I'll go with my brother" yet WWX and LWJ both act like he said he'd rather go to Demon City.

Lan Wangji takes a big step forward and Jiang Cheng blocks him while Wei Wuxian continues to act unperturbed and puzzled while holding his demon flute out in between them. 

Finally, FINALLY, Wei Wuxian calls him Lan Zhan, and asks him a serious question: What do you really want. Lan Wangji calms down for a second--although he keeps leaning into Jiang Cheng's sword block--and gets to the point, which is that the unorthodox path is dangerous, and harmful to his temperament.  

Kill one turtle together and you think you're the boss of me

So, these dudes are talking about 2 different levels of unacceptable cultivation, in this episode and the next few. Netflix translates these as "wicked tricks" and "crafty tricks," which both sound absolutely ludicrous in English, so I'm going to use my own preferred terms, going forward.  

I think what they are calling "Wicked Tricks," which includes spirit snatching and feeding people to the murder turtle on purpose in order to harvest their resentment could be translated as Heresy--adhering to a forbidden belief or practice; standing in opposition to Orthodoxy.  

Edit: After rewatching Episode 35, in which Nie Huaisang explains why their whole blade thing doesn’t count as “wicked tricks,” I’ve changed my mind about what to call this. NHS says that “wicked tricks” specifically involve the use of humans & human spirits (killing, sacrificing, etc.). Which means Necromancy is probably the better term for this particular type of cultivation, although it is still (also) Heresy. 

"Crafty Tricks," which is using resentful energy to raise and control already-dead people (ghosts and zombies) as well as just generally using resentment for basic stuff like beating Jin Zixuan's ass, could be translated as Heterodoxy--deviating from the accepted belief or practice, but not to the point of complete opposition.

Wei Wuxian laughs while Lan Wangji tries to be convincing, but since Lan Wangji is just repeating what he's been taught, he's not making much headway. Instead of saying "there's no exception throughout history" he could have, instead, gone with his own actual observations, such as "you are acting like a sadistic prick" or "you seem amazingly miserable" or "you aren't hugging your brother, what the fuck is that about?" But no.

Wei Wuxian responds to the charge of heresy by saying nuh-uh, and explains his methods, sort of, while going back to calling him Lan Er Gongzi. Lan Er Gongzi responds by actually literally yelling at him, and saying he's not allowed to decide for himself about what he's doing, as if the words "allowed to" have ever meant a goddamn thing to Wei Wuxian.

Temperament

At this point Wei Wuxian is done. He goes and gets right up in Lan Wangji's face and sticks a metaphorical knife right in his heart, smiling as he does it. "How do others know my temperament?" he asks; "and why should it be their concern?" i.e. you are not in my heart. 

This makes Lan Wangji so mad he calls Wei Wuxian "Wei Wuxian" for possibly the only time in the show, and he also flashes a whole bunch of angry teeth. (Gifset here). In a callback to the JFM-YZY fight back in Lotus Pier before the war, Wei Wuxian just calmly says "Lan Wangji" back at him, and then tells him to go fuck himself.

Jiang Cheng still doesn't understand what the fuck is happening, but this is a sentiment he understands, so he also tells Lan Wangji to go fuck himself, reminding him that Wei Wuxian is Jiang clan property and it's not the Lans' place to discipline him. Adding "and I'm not going to discipline him any way, look how good he is at killing people!"

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji continue to stare into each others' eyes from a distance so close that it really should lead to making out, but they are both much too angry for that. 

Wei Wuxian is as cold as we ever see him, smiling as he silently confirms: I do not belong to you. Lan Wangji glares back, his anger maybe finally giving way, a little bit, to being hurt.

Finish Him!

Wen Chao picks this moment to wake up and crawl over to the trio, begging Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng to save his life, since he presumably knows it's pointless to beg Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian turns around and gives him the EXACT SAME dead-eyed smile he just gave Lan Wangji, and kicks him.

Then he tells Lan Wangji to please leave so he and his brother can finish torturing this dude to death, and caps it with an official Jiang Clan eye roll.  

Lan Wangji, poor bb, just throws in the towel, and turns and leaves, the anger finally starting to leave his face and be replaced with something else...chagrin, maybe? Or maybe just softer anger, for the moment. 

After he's out of sight Wei Wuxian turns and looks after him sadly, all of the cruelty and hardness gone from his expression, while Wen Chao says "forgive me,"  possibly voicing what Wei Wuxian is thinking.

Lan Wangji walks out the front gate, troubled, and hears Wen Chao scream. He stops and replays the most pointed part of the fight in his head - the part where Wei Wuxian asked him, "who do you think you are?" Lan Wangji went into the fight believing he was completely right and was entitled to judge Wei Wuxian, but he's come out of it with his certainty shaken. 

Family Time

The Yunmeng brothers go to the ancestral shrine in Lotus Pier even though the whole "reclaiming Lotus Pier" scene doesn't happen until Episode 24. So apparently they just kind of sneak into the the shrine, and then sneak back out. Or, you know, continuity error.  Anyway Wei Wuxian is nothing if not adept at sneaking around death-related places.

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng bow and offer incense. It's nice that the Wens didn't fuck up everybody's name plaques when they were in control of the place...or the tassels, candles, etc. 

Wei Wuxian quietly tells Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian that he did what they asked--taking care of Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli--and they can rest now. Nosy parker Jiang Cheng wants to know what he's saying, but Wei Wuxian just changes the subject. 

They talk about going to Qinghe for the final combat of the Sunshot Campaign. Wei Wuxian says that's why he returned, which...dude, you can't even pretend you came back to be with your loved ones? Ouch. Jiang Cheng doesn't really react to that, but he's happy when Wei Wuxian says he wants to see Jiang Yanli. Wei Wuxian wants to know if she's ok and if she's mad at him, and Jiang Cheng says wait and see, because direct answers are not the Jiang Clan way.

Jiang Yanli is helping tend to the wounded, and we see her telling a particularly fussy wounded dude to suck it up and stop complaining. 

When Wei Wuxian shows up she totally stops paying attention to the wounded dude so that she can smile at Wei Wuxian. 

He looks back at her tearfully, briefly managing to smile but then just trying to hold it together. He has been to hell and back, and doing his very best to hide it, but when he sees the person who loves him most--the person who will NOT spend 20 minutes yelling at him as soon as they see him--he starts to crack open.

[edupunkn00b]

Revisions, Ch. 8: Mind Control

Prev - Mutual Pining - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Tags: Human AU, Pining, Mutual Pining, Characters Writing Fanfiction, Slow Burn, Hanakahi Disease, Timeskip, Crossover, Fake Dating, Secret Royalty, They Were Roommates, Mind Control, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change - WC: 1352

“Good night, Lo.” Janus’ eyes were a unfocused as he laid his head against Remus’ shoulder. He looked so comfortable with Remus’ arm wrapped protectively around his waist, steadying him against his little tipsy wobble. “See you in the morning?”

Logan’s heart split in two. He didn’t want them to go. He didn’t want this magical night to be over. He wanted to go back down to Remus’ truck with the men he loved and stay there, tucked safely between them forever.

“Absolutely,” Logan said. He didn't want to turn around and try to sleep alone in his room. He wanted to snuggle next to them, and feel their arms wrapped around them. He wanted to listen to them breathe as they slept and he wanted to wake up in the morning and have their faces be the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes.

He wanted the impossible.

“Good night,” Logan murmured and quietly shut his door, then turned and leaned hard against it, fighting his ludicrous impulse to rip it open and throw himself into their arms. To hell with the consequences, to hell with the rejection. Even if they pushed him away, he would have been wrapped in their arms for just that one tiny moment.

A moment of bliss had to be worth more than an entire night alone in his room.

But instead he waited, heels braced against the floor, until he heard their bedroom door open and close, then he counted to one hundred. Logan walked to his closet, and carefully hung up his tie, suit jacket, and pants, then climbed into bed. He laid like that for a moment before sighing and rolling his eyes. He got back up to brush his teeth and wash his face, then pulled on a hoodie and joggers and crawled back under the covers. He pulled the comforter up high around his head, leaving just a tiny space for air. Squeezing his eyes shut, he curled around a pillow, hugging it close to his chest as he counted Fibonacci numbers, waiting until he finally drifted off to sleep.

~~~~~

Logan woke up two hours later, coughing, head throbbing. He staggered to his desk, searching for something, anything to drink. He found a half-empty cup of cold tea from earlier that afternoon and gulped it down.

It didn’t help.

The tissue box on his desk was empty, so Logan stumbled, still coughing, into the en suite. He turned on the shower to cover the noise, then opened the cabinet under the sink to hunt for more tissues. He found a box, then doubled over coughing, finally sinking down to his knees as he pried off the top, pulling out tissues to catch the petals he expelled.

After a long while, Logan’s coughing gradually eased and he laid down on the cold bathroom tiles to catch his breath. He stared at a smattering of green and yellow petals that had escaped his tissues. The petals were significantly larger now and edged in blood. He hugged his knees against his chest, his head resting on the bathmat.

At some point, he must have dozed off because he woke with a start, the shower still running. Logan pulled himself to his feet and turned off the water, long since grown icy cold, then swept up the tissues and petals with the tiny dustpan he kept under the sink.

The glowing numbers on his alarm clock flashed over to 4:00. Logan’s chest and stomach ached, his throat scraped raw. He gathered the collection of empty cups that had accumulated on his desk and crept downstairs to make more of his numbing tea. He still had two more days before he could take another dose of the Doctor’s serum.

Logan would have to find a way to manage without it until then.

~~~~~

He drank the first cup of tea downstairs in the kitchen, hesitant to try the stairs without the numbing effects of the tea leaves. He prepared a second cup, then returned to his room. It was now 4:18 and the sun would be up in a few hours. Logan settled in at his desk to write.

Two hours later, he’d finally finished proof-reading his latest chapter and published it. He then moved on to the next in the story.

“Doctor, I need you to remove my emotion chip.” Data’s voice was calm, controlled, and perfectly enunciated. And it was completely contradicted by the artificial tears pouring down his face as he sat down across from Beverly Crusher in her Sick Bay office. “Data?” Dr. Crusher’s voice rose at the end, her personal concern barely masked by her professional tone. She leapt to her feet, pulling a medical scanner from her lab coat and running the wand over Data’s head and body. “I don’t understand. Is your emotion chip malfunctioning? Your affect is—” “I have activated an emergency override on my emotion chip. It should have prevented any expressions of emotional activity.” Data blinked erratically at Dr. Crusher, tears still dripping from his eyes. The rest of his facial expressions and body movements appeared perfectly relaxed, content even. Dr. Crusher sat on the edge of her desk, facing him. She put away the scanner. “Data, why would you do that?” she asked quietly. Stiffening his already perfectly straight spine, Data tilted his head fractionally. “I was experiencing severe emotional distress over unavoidable circumstances. It was impacting my ability to process information, make rational decisions, and interact with… certain crew members.” He looked up at Dr. Crusher. “How else was I to address my malfunction?”

Logan sat at his desk, one elbow propped next to his laptop, his fingers tugging at his hair. Indeed, Data. Indeed.

Perhaps that actually was the answer. If Hanahaki’s is caused by an emotion, the real solution… is to not have them. Just for a little while. Just long enough to let the disease resolve itself, or at least until he could take another dose of the serum. If he could reduce the emotions driving his Hanahaki’s, then perhaps he could even stretch out the medication beyond the eight day interval he’d currently set himself on.

He sat back in his chair, twirling his pen between his fingers. His eyes fell on the photograph he’d pinned to his bulletin board last year. Logan had taken the picture at Remus’ birthday party. All of the housemates had gathered together to sing around the ‘secondary’ birthday cake—the elaborate chocolate mocha swirl confection Patton had decorated to near Cake Boss-standards. After Remus had blown out the candles, Janus and Logan had presented him with a tiny experimental cake made especially for him.

Remus had read somewhere online that there were bakers trying recipes incorporating inorganic ingredients like clay. Remus had insisted that review were positive and he wanted to try it, but Patton had steadfastedly refused to have clay anywhere near his fancy bakeware.

"No, Kiddos, no… I'm sorry, but you can't bake a literal mud pie in my Le Creuset!" Patton had crossed his arms, his dimpled cheek belying his stern frown. "They were my grandmother's!"

So instead, Janus and Logan had found a small set of mixing bowls and cakepans at a thrift store and, after many Wikipedia and TikTok rabbit holes, finally found a recipe that looked, if not appetizing, at least non-toxic. They’d prepared the cake, carefully decorated it, and set it down at Remus’ place setting.

He’d eaten the entire 3” double layer cake, insisting it had been delectable. Months later, Roman had accidentally let slip to Logan that Remus had actually been up sick all night in his room for their “overnight twins” celebration, but had been so touched by Janus and Logan’s efforts that he hadn’t wanted them to know.

Logan looked down in confusion as his hands suddenly grew cold. He saw his hands were wet and had become chilled by the moisture evaporating on his skin.

It took Logan several moments to realize he was crying.

Perhaps controlling his thoughts and emotions was going to be more difficult than he’d anticipated.

taglist: @mavenmush @melaniidarling @braingoburr @lunatatic @demon9980 @crossiantgay @psychedelicships @justmeandmygayships @ts-creator-boost @bluerosesbleedred @tsfanficarchive @tsshipmonth2020

[laequiem]

Cheek to Cheek in Hell - Chapter 2

/ After killing Valerian, Jude decides that Cardan must die, too. Canon-divergent story in which Jude leaves Elfhame with Cardan. Title from Dead Girl Walking (reprise) from Heathers: the Musical

Fandom: The Folk of the Air

Pairing: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar

Rating: explicit

Word count: 1,944

I was surprised by how quickly I accepted Death when faced with the bite of her blade at my throat. Not Death—Jude, the creature who has been haunting me for years. She has killed someone and, faced with her imminent death sentence, has decided that I should die too. Quite understandable. More logical than what I did, which was to beg her to kiss me.

fanfiction masterlist • read it on ao3

Chapter 1 • next chapter • Cheek to Cheek masterpost

Chapter 2. Blow this town

Cardan POV

I have never given death much thought. As an immortal, death is quite an abstract concept—and though being royalty should theoretically make me a target of assassination attempts, who would bother? Not for High King Eldred's youngest. I have been dismissed by courtiers often enough to know that I would never be considered a threat to the throne. So I was surprised by how quickly I accepted Death when faced with the bite of her blade at my throat.

Not Death—Jude, the creature who has been haunting me for years. She has killed someone and, faced with her imminent death sentence, has decided that I should die too.

Quite understandable.

More logical than what I did, which was to beg her to kiss me. And when she spat on me and my blood rushed to my cock, I would have done anything to convince her to let me have a taste of more.

I have no regard for self-preservation.

Now, we lay side to side and I clench my hands to keep from touching her more. My lust-clouded brain, like it does when I feel low, imagines all sorts of scenarios where we leave the Court together.

“Let’s leave,” I blurt out.

I immediately regret it.

“What?”

Of course, she will not make this easy for me—or ignore my stupid proposition, for that matter.

“Leave Elfhame,” I specify. “Unless you do really want to kill me, in which case I will kneel and let you slit my throat.”

I hear her shift and know she is looking at me. I keep my eyes on the ceiling, however.

“They will track me down.”

The thought of my father wasting resources to send soldiers after a mortal girl is ludicrous, I tell her as much. “I doubt it—you’re mortal, you will die soon enough.”

With a grunt, Jude sits up. “You never stop being a jerk, do you?”

Confused, I narrow my eyes. Jude gets up and starts pacing, naked from the waist down. I allow myself to take her in, from her tangled hair to her toes. For the first time, I notice the blood on her clothing, and my heart twists. Is it hers?

Finally, she stops pacing.

“Fine,” she says. “You can leave with me.”

I snort. She is acting as if I was asking for permission. Nevertheless, I get up with a stretch. I cast a quick look around for my robe, in vain—it must be tangled somewhere in the sheets. No matter, the servants won’t care.

“It is decided, then,” I say as I walk towards the door. “I will get supplies from the kitchens. You should bathe, the bathing room is on your left.”

Jude rolls her eyes, ire practically oozing from her every pore. She crosses her arms.

“I did not hear you complaining about my smell earlier,” she snaps.

“Oh, sweet Jude,” I grin at her before pointedly looking at her stomach where traces of me linger, “it has nothing to do with how you smell.”

The reminder of what we’ve done, mixed with the wretched possession I feel seeing my seed dry on her, has my cock stirring again. I leave my rooms before she can notice.

As expected, none of the servants so much as look my way. Balekin is out, so I do not need to sneak around.

It is no great heist to slide into the servants quarter and locate a backpack. Balekin keeps servants’ belongings stashed in a closet, cluttered and forgotten. A pile of clothes and bags, whatever they had on them when they foolishly bargained their short lives away.

I grab the largest bag and empty its contents. Digging through other bags, I manage to find a phone, a plastic bottle and wallets. I sift through the wallets to find whatever money lay inside—not much. I stash my findings in the bag and shoulder it. I close all the doors behind me, though I doubt my brother keeps track of anything in this room. After all, he does not keep track of the servants themselves. They disappear often, without him being the wiser. Perhaps he doesn’t care. Do I want him to care when I disappear?

On the way back to my rooms, I stop by the kitchen. I grab as much dried meat as I can and a loaf of bread. The blank-eyed kitchen staff barely looks at me.

When I come back to my rooms, Jude is drying her hair with a towel, another one tied around her breasts. The towel is too small for her and it splits to show a tantalizing expanse of light brown skin and scars.

I see her lips move, yet I hear nothing but the rushing of my blood in my ears.

I cannot think past how easy it would be to pull on the knot of that towel and feast my eyes—

I shake my head, willing my tail to stop swinging.

“I got some supplies. Food,” I specify when she lifts a brow. “A phone. Some money.”

“Wow,” she says, raising both her brows now. “You have thought this through”

I have. I am unsure which part surprises her more—that I have thought of leaving, or that I know of phones.

I suppose she would not understand my desire to run away, she who has everything.

“We will need a change of clothes,” I say, trying to talk my way out of thinking about her naked body, “and Nevermore. I should have some around.”

My vanity is where I keep my powders: the cosmetic ones as well as the fun ones. I grab a kohl liner, then open the first drawer. It is full of jars of powders and herbs, completely without labels. The nevermore is easy to find, however: it’s still in the plastic bag the human I bought it from sold it in. I shove the baggy in the backpack.

“These clothes are fine,” she says coldly.

When I turn around, she is dressed in the clothes she came to kill me in.

“If you want to wash them off your back, sure,” I swing the doors to my dresser open. “We can stop at your house to grab some, you know.”

“I can’t go back,” her voice is low, but I hear her clearly, “they might have found the body.”

I frown. They? Is she talking about her family? How would they find it so fast?

“Where did you hide it?” I ask, pushing aside the more extravagant clothes to get to the boring pieces.

“I didn’t,” she simply responds. “It’s under my bed.”

My mind is reeling, completely ignoring the fact that she did not bother hiding the body. The corpse is under her bed? Did she kill this person in her room? Why was her victim in her room?

Was she… were they…

Wasn’t she seeing Locke?

Did Jude kill Locke?

Did she catch him with Taryn?

Did he try something on her which gave her no choice but to killed him?

My blood boils and I am unsure if it is the possibility of my friend’s murder, or the fact that he might have tried to bed her.

I shouldn’t care about her reasons. I should call the guards and have her arrested.

I don’t.

I breathe deeply, trying to calm the storm brewing in me.

“You can borrow some of my clothes,” I say as I grab a simple white linen shirt for myself and my favorite pair of plain black leather pants.

She snorts. “I thought the point was to hide, not put a target on my back.”

I roll my eyes, though she cannot see my face. I find a long black skirt and a red shirt similar to the one I picked for myself. With a slight pinch in my chest, I bunch the clothes up to put them in the bag, wrinkles be damned. I then pick out an outfit to wear today, a pale blue coat, dark blue silk pants and an off-white shirt.

We have clothes, some food, a phone and as much money as we could possibly get here.

I have daydreamed of running away often. Most of the time, I fantasized of disappearing to a lower court and spend the rest of my days drinking. Other times, at my lowest, I dreamed of this. Running away to the Mortal World with the only person who has ever thought of me enough to hate me.

All of these, however, were fantasies. A way to cope. I have no idea what to expect.

“We can catch the next boat,” I tell her as I shoulder the bag. “Hopefully it hasn’t left yet.”

Jude snorts again, more scornful than the last. “We would have to bribe the whole crew if we take the boat. A prince eloping with a mortal is valuable gossip.”

Eloping. That’s not what this is, of course, but the thought stops my heart for a second.

I ignore it.

“Fine,” I snap back. “Grab that bottle and follow me.”

She glares at me, but she does. I nod towards the window, indicating our way out.

“Don’t boss me around,” she barks as she hops onto the patio.

I can’t remember a time in my life where I fought anything as hard as she fights me.

I will definitely regret this.

I sneak out after her, flinging myself down from the railing onto the earthen ground. I take the bottle from her and take a swing before leading Jude in the direction of the forest.

“Of course, you can’t spend an hour sober,” she says, voice dripping with contempt.

“It’s not for me,” I snarl.

Jude tramples behind me so noisily that she must be stepping on every branch on purpose.

“Sure.”

When we get to the clearing, Mother’s giant moth is there.

“My dear Jude,” I say, gesturing to the moth, “our way out. Cup your hands.”

Surprisingly, she does as she is told. I pour the wine in her cupped hands. The moth’s feathery antennae twitch and it starts walking towards her, all six legs working in tandem.

Its long proboscis extends, prodding the earth and trees until it finds Jude’s hands and starts slurping. Her gasp is one of wonder and I look away from her smiling face.

While the moth is distracted, I hop on its back. When it finishes drinking, Jude walks to its side and I hold a hand out to help her up. She frowns at it, grabs hold of the moth’s fuzz then hops in front of me.

Immediately, I get a whiff of her smell. Her hair, loosely flowing down her back, smells like pine and citrus—my soap. When I offered her to use my bathing room, I did not think this far ahead. Now, with every breath, I am assaulted by images of her hands lathering her curves in soap, of her hands gliding between her muscular thighs to the place I had only imagined until today.

I don’t know what to do with my hands. I probably should hang on to the moth, but what other opportunity will I get? Furthermore, I would not want her to fall.

I wrap my hands around her waist.

“Do you know where you want to go?” I ask her.

Jude kicks the side of the moths and it spreads its wings in a scatter of shedding scales and dust. With a great beat of its wings, we’re off. Two pairs of wings working together to carry us across the ocean, to freedom.

“To the only place where you will look normal,” she says, “New York City.”

-----

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[eliemo]

Blameless

Summary: Logan knew it was only a matter of time until Thomas found out, but he had no intention of pushing Virgil out of his comfort zone. Unfortunately, things are a bit different right now. 

Masterpost

Notes: I plan on writing the “incident” mentioned throughout this fic sometime soon. It’s killing me to plan out

Logan had known it was only a matter of time until Thomas found out. 

He’d been the one to suggest telling him right away, just days after Virgil’s past had come to light. After all, it couldn’t do any harm to have him on the same page when it came to redirecting a harmful mindset.  

But he’d quickly dropped it upon seeing how distressed the idea made Virgil. Logan wasn’t quite sure what he was so afraid of, (Rejection? Dismissal? Annoyance?) but he had no plans to push the anxious side out of his comfort zone. 

Unfortunately, things were a bit different right now. 

It had been almost a week since the...incident had occurred, and while things were steadily improving, they were still hardly back to normal. 

Virgil was still horribly jumpy, wide eyed and trembling far more than usual, apologizing relentlessly for even the smallest things like he was terrified they were all still upset with him. 

Not that anyone had been upset with him to begin with. Just...stressed and worried, was all. They’d all triggered some kind of panicked response from Virgil before, but last week had been a whole different story. 

But that was in the past. It wouldn’t happen again. 

That being said, Virgil still needed time. And Thomas wanted to film today. 

Logan had done what he could to get the date rescheduled, but logically, there was no reason not to film today. Not without a viable excuse, and he knew better than to push the idea of telling Thomas the truth. Virgil would open up when he was ready. 

So now they were all in Thomas’s living room as usual, sharing wary glances as they talked through their host’s latest problem, hoping he wouldn’t notice Virgil was just a bit quieter than usual. 

Virgil’s hands were still wrapped in bandages- and Logan made a mental note to check how those were healing when they were done here- but he was able to keep them hidden beneath his sleeves. 

The issue today was fairly standard- Thomas panicking over a reaction from one of his friends, frantically scrambling as he tried to figure out how to respond and move forward. 

It was the kind of discussion that would usually have them all bickering, shouting over each other with no real malice, probably getting frustrated and carried away in the process until they inevitably came to some kind of conclusion. 

Today, they were careful to keep the volume low, cautious not to lose their temper, Patton and Roman sending less than subtle glances Virgil’s way every few minutes. 

Really, with how obvious they were being, Logan would be more worried if Thomas didn’t pick up on something being off. At the very least, he was bound to be feeling a little extra anxious recently. 

But he hadn’t said anything, Virgil left to his quiet fidgeting from his usual place on the stairs, so perhaps they could--

“Virge? What do you think, buddy?” 

Then again, perhaps not. Thomas was speaking softly, and Logan knew he was only trying to gently encourage Virgil to voice his thoughts, but the anxious side still jumped at the sudden attention, eyes widening slightly. 

“I...s-sorry, what?” 

“I was just wondering what you thought,” Thomas said. “About what Patton was saying.”

Logan saw Patton wince at the question, at the way Virgil was beginning to look helplessly cornered, Thomas still watching with oblivious confusion. 

He should have tried harder to get them to reschedule. Today was a bad day. 

“I- um, I don’t know,” Virgil said. “Sorry, I-I was just, I was…”  

“Zoning out a bit?” Thomas offered, his smile easy and gentle. He’d meant it lightly, Logan knew, but Virgil actually flinched at the implication. 

“N-no I was listening,” he said quickly. “Or, I- I was trying to, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to space out.” 

“What? No it’s...It’s fine, Virgil. Honestly, we were all just rambling at this point, right guys?”  He turned, just in time to see the worried glances Patton and Roman were failing to hide. 

“Right!” Patton exclaimed, too quick and too cheery, and Logan resisted the urge to groan at how utterly horrible the two were at nonchalance. “Everything’s ok! You’re doing great, kiddo!” 

Virgil sunk even further into his hoodie, fiddling with the strings, looking like he would rather be anywhere else in the world, the attention clearly overwhelming. 

Thomas noticed, frown deepening, and he quietly cleared his throat before turning to the creative side. “Roman? Can you stop the recording for a sec?” 

Roman hesitated, looking to Patton and Logan as Virgil began noticeably trembling. But he did as he was told, moving to shut the camera off as Patton hurried to Virgil’s side, talking too softly for the others to hear. 

“Alright, what’s going on you guys?” Thomas asked, missing the way Virgil flinched again. “Logan tried to change the schedule earlier, which we all know is unheard of, and all of you are acting...really weird.” 

Logan opened his mouth to answer, everyone else stubbornly silent, but Virgil beat him to it, his voice heartbreakingly small. 

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, we can...we can keep f-filming, Thomas.” 

Immediately, Thomas’s expression softened. “Hey, buddy it’s ok. I’m not upset, I just wanna know what’s going on. Obviously something’s been happening for a while.” 

Virgil stared resolutely down at his lap where Patton had intertwined their hands, and Roman was shifting restlessly by the camera, clearly waiting for someone else to take the lead. 

Logan sighed, realizing that despite his own lingering stress, he was still the most composed person in the room. As was usually the case. 

“Thomas,” he said, hands automatically fidgeting with his tie when the others turned their attention to him. “There was a...situation a few days ago. It’s been sorted out since then, but today might not be an ideal time to film.” 

“A situation?” Thomas echoed. “Is...is that why I had a panic attack earlier this week?” 

Virgil’s head snapped up at that, kept only from scrambling to his feet by Patton’s tight hold. “You felt that? I- I’m so sorry I thought I...y-you said you felt fine and I thought--” 

“No, no, Virge it’s ok.” Thomas was moving towards the stairs, crouching to Virgil’s level, careful to keep a couple feet of space between them. “It wasn’t that bad. Your panic attacks don’t usually get to me, but this one felt...different.” 

Virgil shrugged, but offered a reluctant nod. “Yeah it was...more intense than usual, I guess. Sorry.” 

“What did we talk about, kiddo?” Patton squeezed Virgil’s hand, smiling sadly. “You don’t have to apologize. It wasn’t your fault.” 

Virgil didn’t answer, still refusing to meet anyone’s gaze, shoulders hunched under the weight of their stares. 

Thomas inched closer, ankles brushing the stairwell, finally breaking the silence. “Virge, can you...tell me what happened?” 

Logan was actually surprised by how quickly Virgil shook his head, looking like Thomas had just suggested something ludicrous, like talking to a cute guy in public. He’d known Virgil was adamantly against telling Thomas any of this, but he hadn’t realized just how hesitant he was. 

“I-I can’t,” he stammered, looking to Patton for help. “I can’t say, I’m sorry, I just...I can’t tell you.” 

“Perhaps it is time we told Thomas,” Logan suggested. “He’s bound to find out eventually, Virgil. And I can assure you, there is nothing to worry about.” 

“But of course, you don’t have to!” Roman added, looking almost just as nervous as Virgil. “It’s entirely up to you!” 

“I’m not gonna pressure you into anything,” Thomas said. “But you know you can tell me anything, right? I’ll do what I can to help.” 

Thomas’s living room was silent for a long moment, the only noise being Patton’s overly exaggerated breathing to keep Virgil from hyperventilating. They all waited, patient and silent, careful not to do anything to make the anxious side feel rushed. 

Logan blinked, surprised when Virgil’s eyes were suddenly locked onto his. 

“Can…” he paused, chewing on his lip. “Can you tell him? Please?” 

Logan gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile and nodded. “Of course. Would you prefer to be in the room or wait somewhere else?” 

Virgil hesitated, free hand tugging at his hoodie, glancing up at Thomas as if to make sure he wasn’t upset with the change in plans. 

“Do you want to wait in the other room, kiddo?” Patton asked. “I can come with you if you want.” 

Virgil nodded, the relief in his eyes painfully obvious, but Logan didn’t miss the tremble that stayed in his hands, the wary, anxiety riddled glances he kept sending Thomas’s way as Patton led him up the stairs. 

“I’ll come get you in a few moments,” Roman called, moving to sit on the edge of the couch, wringing his hands in his lap. “Teach?” 

Logan cleared his throat, adjusting his tie again as he turned back to Thomas, suddenly painfully unsure how he was supposed to continue. 

“Right...Yes. Well,” he started. “A few weeks ago we became aware that, ah...actually Thomas, would you like to sit down?” 

He was stalling and they all knew it- he wasn’t exactly trying to be subtle. But Thomas went along with it anyway, sitting opposite of Roman while Logan awkwardly remained in his usual spot, careful not to fidget. 

“You are, of course, aware of the other sides.” 

“Yeah,” Thomas said. “The dark sides, right?” 

“You have, being a complex and emotional person, many facets of your personality,” Logan explained, ignoring the question. “Some are not as...developed, or as fundamental as the four of us. Most you will likely never interact with. I doubt they even have the ability to manifest.” 

“Okay?” Thomas looked to Roman for some kind of clue, concern clearly morphing to confusion. “What does this have to do with Virgil?” 

Roman clasped his hands in his lap, switching between staring intently down at the floor and looking at Logan- who was frantically trying to figure out the best way to put the delicate situation. 

“Soon after we had accepted Virgil as one of us,” Logan said. “It...came to our attention that he was not...treated well, in a sense, by a majority of the other sides.” 

Roman scoffed. “That’s one way of putting it.” 

“We had all noticed right away, of course, that he was uneasy around us, and always a bit on edge. We all thought he was merely nervous about being rejected again and assumed it would pass.” 

Logan was resolutely not looking at Roman. He would not lose himself, would not fall apart in front of Thomas. He was simply restating facts. That was all. 

“I found him in my room about two weeks into our attempts to get to know him. He was borrowing some reading material and he...well, he believed I intended to strike him as punishment, since he was used to that being standard.” 

Logan risked a glance up, allowing himself to be relieved at Thomas’s expression. He was horrified, as was expected, but there was compassion and understanding flickering in beneath that. 

He wasn’t sure what he had been so afraid of. Perhaps Virgil had been rubbing off on him a bit. 

“But he’s...he’s alright now, isn’t he?” Thomas asked. “I mean, he knows he’s safe with you guys. Right?” 

“It’s a...work in progress,” Roman admitted, and Logan quickly jumped in to elaborate at Thomas’s growing distress. 

“And he is making a great deal of progress. We’re all very proud of how far he’s come in such a short period of time. But it is not something that fixes itself right away.” 

Thomas nodded, scrubbing a hand over his face, and Logan shared a worried look with Roman, both sides at a loss of what else to say or do. 

“How long?” Thomas asked suddenly. “Do you know...how long it went on for?” 

Logan shook his head. “Not exactly. We’ve all...helped Virgil talk through his experiences in chunks whenever he is comfortable. But from what I’ve gathered, it would have been several years at the very least.” 

That, clearly, was not what Thomas had wanted to hear, distress only doubling as he dropped his head into his hands, Roman frantically attempting to provide comfort. 

“Thomas--” 

“Years?” Thomas pushed himself off the couch, Roman hurrying to follow. “It went on for years and I just-- fuck I just let it happen?” 

“You did not let anything happen, Thomas.” 

“He’s my anxiety, Logan!” Thomas shot back, and Logan couldn’t help but be thankful that Joan wasn’t over to hear this particular rant. “It happened in my head and I didn’t even--” 

“Thomas.” Roman’s hand on their host’s shoulder shut down his rambling, the Prince's voice uncharacteristically grim. “There was no way for you to have known. None of us knew- hell Virgil didn’t even know it wasn’t normal!” 

They’d all gone down a spiral of self blame, obsessing uselessly over what could have been since they’d found out what Virgil had gone through. 

If they had just been kinder to him, welcomed him sooner, tried harder to get him to open up from the beginning, then maybe they could have stopped it, saved him from the treatment sooner…

But there was no use in those thoughts. All they did was upset Virgil, who refused to allow anyone to feel guilt over him, half the time convinced he was still just a minor inconvenience. 

“Placing blame is not of importance,” Logan said. “What’s important is Virgil’s safety, and learning how we can undo what has been done. He’s been...conditioned to have a very unhealthy mindset.” 

Thomas took a shaky breath, still much more pale than Logan would like but noticeably more collected than before. 

“You guys found out about this a while ago,” he said after a moment. “What about this last week? You said something else happened?” 

And just like that the tension in the room skyrocketed once again, Roman meeting Logan’s stare with wide, questioning eyes. 

It was like they hadn’t talked about it. They’d had several long discussions, both with and without Virgil, doing all they could to ensure nothing like that ever happened again. 

But Logan didn’t think they’d ever really...recounted out loud exactly what had happened. They all knew. They didn’t need to relive the details. 

Which was illogical, of course. It happened, it was terrifying at the time- the glass, the blood, the way the mindscape had been too quiet- 

But it was over now. It was a mistake, an oversight, and it wouldn’t happen again. And Thomas had the right to know. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Thomas said, and Logan was surprised by the sheer force of the relief that hit like a tidal wave. “It’s ok. I trust you guys to take care of him.” 

“We will,” Roman agreed. “Always.” 

Logan nodded and Thomas took a breath, running his hands through his hair before glancing at the empty stairwell. 

“Roman, do you think you could go get him? I wanna talk to him if he’s up for it.” 

The creative side nodded, glancing at Logan for some kind of unspoken approval before hurrying up the stairs, disappearing the way Patton and Virgil had left, leaving Logan and Thomas alone in the suddenly much too quiet living room. 

The logical side adjusted his tie once more, eyes trained on the floor. “Virgil has been worrying over your reaction for weeks,” he said. “Please attempt to keep your emotions in check.” 

He couldn’t help but think back to that first day, when Patton had lost himself in his emotions, and Virgil had been convinced that anger was directed towards him. 

Luckily, Thomas seemed to pick up on the uneasiness because he just nodded again, glanced once more at the staircase, and moved back to his spot on the couch. 

“Did...did Deceit hide this from me too?” 

“Not that I’m aware of,” Logan said, and unfortunately that was the truth. He didn’t know. “But from what I’ve gathered, I don’t believe he ever laid a hand on Virgil.” 

That, of course, didn’t mean he hadn’t known about the abuse. No one had really gotten the nerve to ask the dark side about the affair.

But there wasn’t a need to fill Thomas’s head with any more doubts.

It wasn’t long before there were footsteps from the stairs, Virgil reluctantly following Patton into the living room, Roman lingering a few paces behind. 

Thomas waited until they were all off the staircase before scooting over, patting the spot next to him. “Hey, Virge. You want to come sit?” 

Virgil shrugged, shoulders hunched and hands buried in his pockets, but he made his way over to the couch, sitting as far away from Thomas as possible. 

He didn’t look like he was panicking, Logan noted with some sense of relief, just miserable and wary, like he was expecting the worst. 

“Did Logan tell you?” Virgil asked, pressed up against the back of the couch with his knees pulled up to his chest. 

“Yeah, he did.” Thomas moved closer, still careful not to crowd the anxious side. “Buddy...do you think I’m gonna be mad at you?” 

Virgil shrugged. “No. I...I don’t know. Maybe.” 

“I don’t think Thomas has ever been angry with you, kiddo,” Patton pointed out from his spot by the window. “And I really doubt he’s gonna start now.” 

“Of course I’m not angry with you, Virge. Why would you think that?” 

A beat of heavy silence, and for a second it looked like Virgil would refuse to respond at all. But there were no tell tale signs of a panic attack, even as he took a small, trembling breath. “Because you should be.” 

It was mumbled, barely audible, and Logan frowned as Thomas looked like he’d just been slapped. “I- what?” 

“You should be,” Virgil snapped, finally looking up to face the others. “All of you should be! You should...you should be furious with me and you’re not and it’s been months and I don’t get it!” 

His breaths were steady, albeit labored, eyes wide as he met each of their stares, voice only slightly wobbly, and Logan briefly wondered how long he’d thought about saying this. 

Roman took a careful step forward, still hesitating by the stairs. “Virgil...why do you think we’re going to be mad?” 

It was a question they’d all asked him before, when he got that panicked look in his eyes when he thought he’d done something wrong. But this...Logan knew this was something different. This wasn’t panic. 

He didn’t like it any better. 

“I don’t,” Virgil argued. “I know you won’t be and that’s the problem.” 

No one knew what to say, exchanging helpless glances as Virgil took a steadying breath, finally focusing on Thomas. 

“I just...let them do that to me,” he said. “They said I had to be- be h-hurt and I just believed them like an idiot. It probably just hurt you and I didn’t even realize!” 

“Virgil, there was no way you could have known. You thought what was happening was normal.” 

“How is that any better, Logan? I thought I deserved it just because they told me I did. I never tried to fight back! It just...to me it just made sense. I deserved it. I...I still think I do sometimes.” 

“Virge--” 

“But you’re all so nice to me. I just...I-I love you all so much and I don’t know how...I just keep messing up and panicking over stuff I let happen to me and making your lives harder and it’s...what if I don’t get better? After what happened last week how long are you gonna…” 

He paused with a shaky breath, clearly resolutely determined not to cry. “What if I don’t stop doing this to you? I-I keep...doing this and- and I try to listen to you but sometimes I...I get it. I get why they did it. I mean, if I’m just such a fuck up that that’s the only way to control me, then why don’t you guys just do the same thing and beat the shit out of me so--”

“Virgil!” 

Logan hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but he could see Virgil getting more and more worked up, and the last time he’d brought up any of them getting fed up enough to resort to violence Patton had burst into tears, which would do nothing to help the situation.  

Luckily, the flash of fear in Virgil’s eyes as he fell silent only lasted a second, recognition taking over as his shoulders dropped. 

“Sorry,” Virgil muttered. “Sorry I didn’t mean to say all that, I know you guys...I know you won’t do that. I just worry...I don’t know.” 

Thomas was scooting closer again, watching Virgil with an expression Logan couldn’t quite read. Sadness, definitely. But it was also fond, something protective and kind. 

Logan thought Thomas was the only person kind enough to look at their anxiety like that. 

Good. Virgil deserved that kindness. 

“Virgil,” Thomas said, arms now open and inviting, his smile warm and genuine. “Come here?” 

Virgil didn’t hesitate. His face crumpled and the facade he was trying so desperately to put on faded as he fell forward into Thomas’s embrace, holding him tight. 

Logan smiled, sinking out along with Roman and Patton. They would need to talk about what had happened- all of them, but it could wait. 

Virgil needed some time with Thomas, and Logan had no doubt he would be taken care of. 

To Virgil’s own, silent amazement, he managed not to dissolve into tears the second he realized Thomas not only wasn’t upset with him, but offering physical comfort. 

The others had sunk out sometime into the hug, leaving the two of them alone on the couch, and he did his best to breathe through the lingering panic at the memories of what he’d just said. 

Thomas didn’t let go, but didn’t try to pressure a conversation either, seeming to know Virgil needed some time to find his voice again. 

Instead he just leaned back slightly, enough so both of them were resting comfortably against the back of the couch, and turned the tv on to some mindless show, the background noise helping to ground them both. 

His arms were still wrapped around Virgil, comforting and safe, and the anxious side’s breath hitched as Thomas began carding fingers through his hair, unable to stop himself from leaning into the touch. 

Thomas shouldn’t be taking care of him like this. Not when Virgil had done nothing but hurt him. 

He pushed those thoughts away, closed his eyes, and willed his mind to focus. 

It was impossible to tell how much time passed, everything fuzzy and far away, but Thomas never pushed, waiting until Virgil was ready to talk on his own. 

“I’m so stupid.” 

The fingers in his hair stopped, just for a second, before starting up again, even more gentle than before. 

“You’re not,” Thomas said. “You’re not, Virge. You were being hurt and manipulated. It wasn’t your fault.” 

He’d heard this all a thousand times before. It wasn’t his fault, it was manipulation, his reactions were normal, he shouldn’t blame himself. 

It helped to hear, sure, but only in the short run. It all came creeping back eventually, taunting, jeering voices mercilessly screaming in his head. 

“I know,” he said against Thomas’s shoulder. “But I believed them. I know what they did wasn’t my fault but I never questioned it. I hated the way it made me feel and I still never tried to get it to stop.” 

“You thought you didn’t have a choice.”

“Nobody else would be stupid enough to believe that,” Virgil muttered. “You wouldn’t, the others wouldn’t, I just always thought...I thought I was helping but I always just make it worse.” 

For a second, Thomas didn’t answer, the low volume of the television the only sound in the living room. For a terrifying second, Virgil thought Thomas was going to agree. 

“You make us better, Virgil,” he said, the same words Princey had spoken in his room. “Not worse. Never worse. Don’t forget that.”

Thomas pulled back slightly, just enough to meet Virgil’s eyes, carefully moving a hand under his chin when the anxious side averted his gaze. 

“You aren’t stupid, buddy. And you did not deserve that. Any of it. You couldn’t have known- we all treated you like a villain, and you thought you had to be the bad guy.” 

Virgil shrugged, taking a shuddering breath. “I thought...I was just trying to protect you.” 

“And you do,” Thomas said. “You always have. Nobody blames you for believing what they told you. Especially not when you were scared.” 

Thomas finally allowed Virgil to look away, the side staring down at his lap, forcibly reminding himself not to pick at the bandages under his sleeves. 

“I hated it,” he mumbled, face burning. “I wanted it to stop so bad so I don’t know why...why I can’t accept that it’s over.” 

“You’ll get there,” Thomas promised, more certain than Virgil had ever heard him. “You’ll realize someday you didn’t deserve it. We’ll show you that you deserve to be loved, Virge.” 

Thomas pulled him close again, the hug tight and desperate on both ends, and for just a moment Virgil thought that with an embrace like this, a family so open and understanding, he would never be afraid again. 

[sanders-sides-fic]

There is no nice deathworlders! (Right?) [Chapter 8]

AU Masterpost: here

Logan had always had a rather… personal interest in deathworlders. So whenever he stumbled upon any information on them, be it a book, a rumor he could write down into one of his notebooks or anything else, he would pursue that knowledge. Sometimes, he would admit, he had been actively seeking out information on the other species, too.

But all of his sources had been questionable at best, downright absurd at worst. So many information was contradictory, and most of the information was gathered from Virgil Feline and Janus Serpent back when that famous incident had happened. So it may have come from an original source, first hand experience and knowledge and all that, but that didn’t make it reliable. Everything but, actually. Logan was rather sure that both deathworlders had had plans to escape from the very beginning, so he assumed that a lot of the information they cave their captors had been false. Maybe he was interpreting too much into it, but he just had an intuitive hunch about that.

It had always been vexing, of cause. He blamed it on his photynêsc genes but not knowing something and not having any option to learn either was incredibly irritating to him. Always had been, and always would be. But the way he viewed it, it had always been alright to just gather whatever information he could as long as he reminded himself regularly that he couldn’t blindly trust the words he went over and over again in the late of night when his friends were asleep.

Right now a lack of knowledge proved to be fatal, though.

Roman would tell him to “get lost”. Run and don’t look back, so that at least one of them would be safe. Roman would look at him and tell him that, should he die or get hurt in his attempt to help him, he would never forgive Logan for that. Or himself. But Roman would also throw his own advice out of the figurative window were the roles reversed here.

Remus wouldn’t tell him anything. Remus would just go in there and take the deathworlder on without any plan or second thought. Remus would impulsively charge, fight to his dying breath to safe his family, find creative ways to destruction while doing so and endanger everyone of them, himself included. Remus would probably end up killed by the deathworlder. It was a good thing it was in fact not Remus who was out here, Logan thought to himself.

Patton would advice him to talk it out. Maybe that was how the sylemn had ended up in that situation right now. Logan wouldn’t put it past his friend to have actually tried so. Talk to a deathworlder, really! Who, other than Patton, would actually entertain that ludicrous idea for any longer than it took for the thought to pass through the head? Logan, obviously.

Logan himself would prefer having a plan based on all the information he could get. A well thought-through plan that left little to no ways for error, tailor made for the situation at hand based on the acquirable information. But since all the information he had was unreliable, that wasn’t an option right here and now.

Would the deathworlder really sleep once the night fell? Would Logan actually have the advantage with his sensitive eyes, or had deathworlders as good a night vision as others claimed? Did their sense of smell really disappear when they fell asleep? Were they really close to deaf when asleep, or would the slightest noise scare him out of his slumber? Was light actually able to wake a deathworlder up? If so, was Logan’s skin bright enough? If the deathworlder would wake up, would he actually do so noiseless? Would a seventh sense tell the deathworlder when someone came too close to him? Were they irresponsive to touch until awake again? And how long did a deathworlder sleep for even?

So many questions and no way to answer them. Every detail could be crucial to his plan, and his obliviousness caused his plan to hang on by a threat. He lacked vital information and because of that the lives of his friends, his family were hanging on by a threat as well - and that might as well be the worst feeling Logan had ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

But even with all the uncertainty and questionable information, it was better than knowing nothing at all, he supposed. He had to make sure to view all of the things he’d read as hypothesis, he reminded himself again. Because, what other choice did he have, really? Go and leave his friends here? Loose his only family because he had gotten stuck inside an impossibly rediculous dilemma and his logic-oriented brain wasn’t sure how to save anything without the data he lacked?

For the first time in his entire life, Logan was actually glad that he’d been the result of a cross-species experiment. Right here and now, complex feelings weren’t quite as bad as they could have been. They were actually helping him with their illogical strive. Complex feelings might just be their saving. And what a strange, weird, paradox thought that was. Almost ironically so. Or maybe not, Logan wasn’t too well-versed in this area. It certainly was not his expertise.

Suddenly a loud thud sounded from inside the cave, startling Logan so much he actually flinched, embarrassingly enough. What was that? Carefully, he decided to look into the cave. He sent a quick prayer to the heavens to let it be something other than his family getting hurt, and to make it so that the deathworlder wouldn’t see his glow. Now, Logan didn’t believe in any gods or the like, the quick prayer just a habit he’d taken over from Roman. But as he managed to see into the cave, noticing the heightened temperature of the deathworlder, who was laying on the ground with his back towards him, opposite of where Patton and Roman where huddled close… well, he might have believed his prayers had done some good for just a second, maybe two. Maybe. 

He realized well enough that, if he wanted to move now was the time. So he took a deep breath and went in. He was glad his home planet had quite the dark sun to it, because that meant he was at least able to see properly right now. The clammy air of the cave was a bliss against his dry skin and lunges, too, but he couldn’t focus on things like that right now. No way. He had to do this, and he had to do this properly, meaning with all of his focus.

The glow appeared to be rather obvious to his friends, he supposed. At least it gained the immediate attention of his creath. A low, painfully hopeful hum greeted him before Roman spoke up: “Logan? Is that you?”

“Indeed.”, he whispered back, unable to keep his own delight at seeing his friends and interacting with them out of his voice. He found that he didn’t particularly mind it this time.

Patton’s chirp turned his attention to the smallest member of their little crew. And, to Logan’s upmost surprise, the sylemn bounced over to him, unshackled, and rubbed against him with another content chirp.

“Yes, I am happy to see you as well. But I believe we should postpone this to a… less dangerous location?” Logan’s question made Patton halt and Roman let out a whine he barely heard in the silent night air. What was happening? He looked from Patton to Roman and back in confusion, knowing that the glowing marks on his skin would enable his friends to perceive the silent question.

It was Patton who answered, voice low and sad: “Roman fell on the first night here. He cracked his skin bad, so he isn’t very quick or agile right now. And the deathworlder bound him to the ground. They get really angry if I even touch the bindings...”

“Which is why I told you to go on without me!”, Roman chimed in, obviously annoyed. “I don’t want you bringing yourself in danger because I’m holding you back. Just… Get to safety first and then I’ll think of a way to get out of here. But I need you two to be safe first!”

Logan was quiet while Patton chirped his protests. Then he sighed. “So, just to make sure I understand correctly: Roman is dangerously injured and can not move fast enough to escape the deathworlder, who gets aggressive as soon as the bindings are touched. Therefore Roman suggests me and Patton leave and let him find his way back as soon as he can, basing that promise on the hope that he will be able to do so before the deathworlder in question kills him. Did I miss anything?”

Roman waved his hand denyingly and Patton whistled disapprovingly once more. Logan sighed again. “I see. In that case I have to say, Roman, you are an absolute idiot. If you think, even for a second, that abandoning you to safe ourselves was even an option, you are a complete and utter idiot. Now tell me, how grave are these injuries you speak of?”

Roman visibly startled, but in the end he answered in a low voice: “Pretty bad. I was unconscious when they found me, and I haven’t been able to talk to Remus since. But I do feel him, so there’s that at least. He’s still here, just… not awake.”

“He’s been pretty out of it every now and again,” Patton added with a worried look on his face. “Sometimes it takes him a few moments to realize what is happening at all. I think we’d be able to move slowly for short distances at best.”

Short distances at best, huh? That was rather concerning. Maybe they would make it out of the cave and be able to hide in the other one Logan had occupied before? If the deathworlder thought they were gone, maybe he would go away to search for them for a while, and they could keep moving. It was possible, but risky. And Logan didn’t even want to think about what could happen if they failed…

His eyes caught on the blankets next to his friends. When Patton saw that, he chirped happily. What was there to be happy about in this situation? “They’ve been taking care of us. They helped me with my broken leg and it’s all better now. I think they helped Roman survive too. They give us food, and blankets and…”

“Patton thinks the deathworlder may be nice.” Roman didn’t sound impressed with his friend as he interrupted him to provide an explanation to the shocked Logan. Logan had to say, he himself wasn’t exactly impressed with Patton either in that moment.

“How did you come to that conclusion?!” He couldn’t even hide his shock when he asked the question. Patton, though, seemed to be pretty annoyed with the two of them.

“Look, I know that you don’t think I can be a good judge of character, but I haven’t felt even a bit of malicious intent from them at all! And, sure, they don’t really talk, but still! Also, when I meet they made sure to take a position that showed they didn’t want to harm me and they helped us and they told me that they would take me to Roman. They didn’t do anything to earn the way you’re treating them!”

“They tied us both inside a dark cave and they won’t even let me touch these vines. I can’t even stand up, Patton. I can barely move at all.” Roman made a compelling argument in Logan’s eyes, but Patton seemed to think otherwise.

“Maybe they’re scared! They got rid of my bindings when they were sure that I wouldn’t attack them.”

Following Patton’s statement, there was just silence. Then, just to make sure he hadn’t misheard his friend, Logan asked: “Scared? The deathworlder?”

Before Patton could say anything else, though, there was a soft rustling sound behind them. Logan turned around quickly, trying to see what had caused it. Was the human about to wake up? He held his breath for a few moments, but couldn’t hear anything else. “I think you should get out of here for now. They usually go outside to get food every now and again, so let’s talk when we’re alone,” Roman, who seemed to have heard the same thing, proposed cautiously.

Patton nodded. “Well, whether you two believe me or not, we know for sure that they didn’t harm us at all. So I’ll stay with Roman. But I don’t think you have to hide! We could try talking to them…”

Talking to them? So he had been right, Patton really did think that was a good idea. Of course he did. Logan didn’t know whether he felt fondly exasperated or just plainly tiered of it.

What they didn’t know was that Virgil had been awake the entire time. He’d just flinched when the tree of them had come to the right conclusion. It wasn’t like he couldn’t understand Roman’s point at all, but he still didn’t like that he wouldn’t even so much as consider that Patton was right. Because he was! And this Logan… Logan didn’t seem much better, but at least a little easier to talk to. Well, if he could talk to them, that was. That would make things a lot easier, wouldn’t it?

He wanted to sigh, but kept it in as he watched Logan agree to their idea, albeit hesitantly. And apparently that cave opposite from this was where Logan was staying. Good to know. That was actually really helpful knowledge. Or not. He couldn’t use it, but it was still good to know where Logan was in case of an emergency. What emergency that could be and how to convince Logan to come and help, well, that was something to think about another day. Or not, hopefully.

Virgil waited, in the almost dark of the night. The moon was bright on this planet, he noticed once more. He’d thought that before, but… Well, the stars other than the sun sure were bigger and brighter, and that sure made moons brighter as well.

Since the sun was such a small star, he thought, would he even be able to see it from this corner of the universe? Space was too big. He didn’t want to go back, but he also didn’t like the empty void out here. Maybe he would just search for a planet without civilization, one that was bearable and he could live on in peace. Somewhere to settle, to call home. He could use the ship as a house, like those people that had renovated campers into houses. Wouldn’t that be something? Virgil used to think that something like that was unsafe. To be honest, it had been a horrible nightmare scenario to him at one point. Funny, how your standards could change with just a sprinkle of abduction.

Home, to Virgil, used to be an intruder-free room with locked door and easy enough way to climb out and back in through the window. Then he was taken from that home, and home changed to a cave near the market with an unlikely new friend. Home became an alien space ship, fancy and new and scary but theirs. Warm smiles, jokes about the “danger” of normal fruits and small arguments about what missions to take on. That’d been the best home he’d ever experienced. And now, after shit went down? Now he was just tired. Tired and lonely and he just wanted to have a home at all, hopefully one that wouldn’t be taken from him again.

But for now he had a crew to worry about, a relationship to somehow mend. So he watched the too bright moon until Patton and Roman fell asleep. Then, just a few minutes later, a voice greeted him. Two words, spoken way too happily and too loud for this situation, but they somehow managed to loosen the tight rope his thoughts had knotted around his lounges. “I’m back~" Remus had sung in the silence of the cave.

Well, it was something at least. So he sat up with a smile and nodded at Remus in greeting.

Whew! Look who crawled out of a hole and finished the last few paragraphs of this chapter. I’m sorry this one took so long. But, well, it’s finally done. I hope you enjoyed it!

Also, if you want to, I’d love your input on what to focus on for the next chapter: Logan and the crew, or Remus and Virge? Both will happen soon, but what’d you like to read first?

Well, then. Hope to see you next chapter.

And now, 🖤The taglist 💜: @the-ultimate-a @bunny222 @elvis-has-been-dug @what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me @gattonero17 @selenechris @thefivecalls @arsenicdragon @coralduckdeputypanda @alias290

[stonefreeak]

Wheee! We continue to make progress, don’t you think?

Obi-Wan stares blankly at the list in front of him, the list which details every single arrested Senator so far. The list is almost ludicrously long and the charges showing such horrid depths of corruption that Obi-Wan feels faint. He wonders how it will spread. Will the Senators already being prosecuted try to cut deals by giving up information on others?

He puts the list down and gets to his feet, he needs to move, he cannot bear to sit still any longer right now. As he moves through the office space, he lets his fingers trail over the plants covering most of the free space in the room. It's a small, artificial jungle, but one that almost seems to glow in the Force anyway. He heads over to the Haa'ndunian Hydrangea and stares at the bright blue flowers.

Perhaps if he stares hard enough, the solutions to all his problems can be found on its petals.

Many planets have returned to the Republic from the Separatists. The Republic is finally taking steps to root out the corruption that has been rotting its foundation.

He should be hopeful that now, finally, peace talks with the Separatists can open. That the worlds who have tried to leave the Republic—the planets Palpatine and the Senate refused to let free—will find that their grievances are being met. He should be hopeful that this horrific civil war can finally reach a conclusion, and a peaceful one at that.

He should be hopeful that no more lives will be lost. No more clones created and thrown onto the front lines by the Republic to face droids and lose their lives before they could even begin to live them.

He should be.

But he is not.

Yan Dooku is still the head of the Separatists, he still holds the ultimate authority in their Senate... He's still their equivalent to Obi-Wan's current position. And Yan Dooku will never allow a peaceful resolution to stand. He is a Lord of the Sith, and one who has more to lose than most should this war end in any way but in his favour. He'll no doubt do everything he can to block any and all attempts at brokering a lasting peace.

Dooku is also far from likely to give up any information on his master. On the other Sith Lord, the one who's been having the Senate dance as their puppet for only Force knows how long. And that Sith Lord is even less likely to allow a peaceful resolution than Dooku.

Obi-Wan remembers his first meeting with his Master's former Master well. He's considered it and reflected over it more than a few times over the years that have passed since.

Dooku had already been a Sith Lord at the time, and yet he had spoken of Qui-Gon with such affection, with nostalgia. Enough so that Obi-Wan had felt it in the Force, despite not knowing the man well at all.

Clearly Dooku has not thrown away everything he had been before he chose the way of the Sith. Perhaps... Perhaps there could be some way to bring him back?

He almost laughs at himself for the thought. There's no way to bring someone back from the Dark side. They can only do that themselves, it is not a choice anyone else can make for them. Depa's Fall and return proves that well enough.

Perhaps... Perhaps if Dooku could be taken back to the Temple, perhaps he could find peace and his way back from the Dark.

It is a nice thought, if nothing else.

If they could manage to capture Dooku, not only would it keep him from interfering and stopping any potential peace talks with the Separatists, but it would help give them an incentive to try for peace talks in the first place. Not to mention that perhaps the Jedi could convince Dooku to give up information on his master.

All things considered, capturing Dooku has always been an important goal for the war effort, but it may have become more important than ever now.

As Obi-Wan continues to stare at the flowers, still lost in thought, he lets out a small laugh.

Yan Dooku, Darth Tyrannus, may just be the single most important piece on the entire board. Capturing him may just help bring an end to everything, help return peace to the galaxy in a way it wouldn't have just a year ago.

Before the return negotiations, the investigation, before actual strides were made in combating the corruption in the Senate, capturing Dooku would certainly have had an effect, but no doubt would the other Sith Lord be able to simply step in and take the reigns. As it is now, however, there's incentive for peace. There's a precedent for reasonable and compassionate peace talks and negotiations.

If they capture Dooku now...

Mind made up, Obi-Wan turns away from the Haa'ndunian Hydrangea and looks across his office at all the plants and flowers in the room. He'll need to discuss it with the Council, but setting together a task force specifically for capturing Dooku seems like their next and most important step.

Not that it will be easy, not hardly.

Dooku is formidable, and he has Ventress at his side.

Not to mention, finding him and finding him somewhere he can be captured in the first place is going to be a task of immeasurable proportions.

He's almost relieved that it cannot be given to him.

—

(Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan Kenobi masterpost)

[pixelatedrose]

Soulbound Part Seven

First | Previous | Part 7 | Next

Ao3 link

Masterpost

Word Count: 2,788

Pairings: Prinxiety, Logicality, background Remile

Warnings: Uncensored swearing, nightmares, mention of implied self harm (skip from “It had been another nightmare” to the end of the paragraph.), slight self deprecation, if I missed anything at all please please tell me, and if there’s anything you’d like me to tag, don’t hesitate to ask!

Summary:

Roman Prince and Logan Rose are soulmates. They’re platonic soulmates though. They both have the same Soul mark to prove it. But they both have one other soul mark, binding them to one other person. And when they find Patton Miles, it just so happens that they’re both his soulmate. Logan being his Soulbound Soulmate, and Roman being a platonic soulmate. But something feels missing. And it feels filled, shockingly so, when they meet a certain someone a year and a half after they found each other.

Chapter 7

  Logan Rose woke up with a bit of a start. He glanced around his room wildly, everything appearing fuzzy without his glasses. He calmed himself down before pulling the cord on his bedside lamp and examining his arm.

  It was bare and pale as always, save for his tattoo that depicted Patton's name.

  Despite everything, Logan let out a shaky breath. He knew it was illogical. And that only bothered him more.

  It's just a dream, Logan. Nothing is wrong. Logan picked up a book on the ground in spite of himself and began reading. However he found- as he always did- that he was unable to read much further than a few pages.

  "It's just a dream...It was nothing but amalgamated memories and images…It wasn't...It can't have been…" Logan took another deep breath to steady himself.

  And once again resorted to the only method that ever seemed to work.

  He flipped open a small journal and began writing down his dream with as much detail as possible.

  It had been another nightmare. He had been sobbing on the floor of a foreign room before dragging himself over to an all too familiar box under the bed where he fished out a pencil sharpener blade and had-

  Logan paused for a moment in his writing. He always hated writing about his nightmares. It was necessary for him to fall back asleep, but it was so hard sometimes.

  Every once in a while Logan Rose had acutely vivid dreams about ordinarily mundane things that didn't seem to make sense. 

  Seeing people he'd never seen before at a birthday party he'd never attended. 

  A dark room that slowly got edgier as time wore on filled with a multitude of different events. Most of them less than savory and quite traumatic. 

  A kid, taller than Logan, pushing him to the ground and pulling him back up by his hair only to have someone else spit in his face.

  These dreams made no sense to Logan. Dreams were supposed to be concoctions of memories, images, ideas, and emotions. Logan's brain should not be able to create such a vivid image of a house he'd never seen before. And yet Logan would have remembered if he'd ever seen the odd house with the strange yellow door that his mind so often brought up.

  Logan finished writing down his nightmare in his dream journal and set it down once again, rubbing his tired eyes. He glanced over at one of his many bookcases, sighing at the vast amount of dream journals he had filled up over the years.

  He had started cataloging his dreams back in fourth grade when his mother had suggested that writing about his dreams would help him remember them and even sleep better. So now Logan had nearly 6 years worth of journals filled to the brim with dream after dream after dream. Even if he could never remember what he had dreamed that night, he always wrote down that he was unable to recall any details.

  Logan lay himself back down to sleep as he quietly pondered his vivid dreams and what they could possibly mean, if anything at all.

  That's absolutely ludicrous. Dreams don't mean anything. They're just dreams. As he drifted off once again, Logan found himself with a ghost of doubt cast across his mind.

  Just dreams…

  Logan Rose fell asleep, his mind conjuring up recipes that called for memories, images, sounds, ideas, and emotions.

~~•~~

  Roman woke up to his alarm which he lazily slapped, sending it snoozing. Five minutes later it started yelling again, and this time Roman reluctantly rolled himself out of bed. Quite literally in fact. He had found it always helped him wake up.

  He hit the floor dramatically and lay down on the floor for a few minutes staring at his ceiling.

  Roman suddenly was struck by a brilliant idea and he sat up straight and got ready for the day as quick as possible.

  "Heya Ro-Bro! Sleep like a corpse?" Remus asked as Roman came down the stairs.

  "Why would you phrase it like that? Like actually why??"

  "Because it's interesting and you're boring so i have to be interesting for the both of us!!"

  Roman watched his twin brother sprinkle poptart crumbs into the omelet he was cooking and grimaced. "Well you sure do a good job of that one…"

  "Hey, Ro, have you seen the dandelions?"

  Roman paused for a brief moment. "Why the fuck are you eating dandelions?"

  "You absolute shitheaded moron it's for Brigit."

  Roman flushed. "Oh." He had been thinking of Virgil again and his head was still mushy from sleep. "In the fridge…"

  Remus turned and pulled out a small bag of dandelions before hopping over to a glass tank which contained a small tortoise. "Roman's an idiot, isn't he Brigit? Isn't he?" Remus cooed at his tortoise, dropping three of the four flowers in along with a small pile of lettuce before looking at the fourth flower and asking out loud. "Hey, dandelions are edible, right??"

  And before Roman had time to violently judge his brother, Remus shoved the entire fucking flower in his mouth like the absolute heathen he was.

  "Hey, not too bad." Roman's trash-man of a brother said, walking over to his slowly burning food.

  "I swear to god I don't know how we're related…" Roman muttered, returning his mind to a much more savory person.

~~•~~

  Roman got to school and met up with his friends. He debated skipping a few steps in his plan and looking for him right then, but decided against it. He didn't want to come off seeming like a creep.

  So he waited until his third period rolled around and felt his eyes light up as they fell to the emo boy scrunched up in the back corner of the classroom. Something was definitely brighter about Virgil today. Maybe it was the new hoodie he was wearing or the fresh makeup on his face, or perhaps it was the way he looked rested or the fact that he was nodding along to his music and silently mouthing the words, but Roman was unreasonably happy to see Virgil in a good mood.

  “Good morning, Hot Topic! You’re looking splendid today!” Roman bubbled, winking at the mass of emo that sat at the table.

  Virgil snorted and looked up at him. “Aw, you think I’m hot!”

  “On the contrary! I was talking to my reflection!”

  “Ah, that makes more sense. I put too much faith in you to think you’d ever stop being self-absorbed!”

  “Hey! You’ve only known me for what, two days?”

  Virgil shifted in his seat, having taken out his earbuds already. “I tend to be a pretty good judge of character.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yep.”

  Roman took his chance to strike. “Well I bet you wouldn’t be able to judge my friend’s characters off of one glance!” Roman smiled at Virgil, missing the way the other’s shoulders relaxed when he spoke. “Want to join me with my friends at lunch?”

  Roman patiently awaited the inevitable decline. It was part of his plan. He would laugh it off and be charming as ever and continue to pester him until he-

  “Sure.” Virgil said casually, a hint of a smile on his face. 

  What.

  “You seem like a cool guy, I guess. Should I meet you by the cafeteria?”

  Roman’s head was a jumbled mess and where he had been planning on being charming, he had fallen end over end down the stairs of grace and was drowning in his own pool of poor planning.

  “Uh, uhm, n-no I’ll just meet you outside your class!” Roman had just barely been able to save the end of that sentence. He had not expected the emo boy to accept his offer so quickly. He thought the boy was shy and reserved, didn’t like talking to people. Curiosity to know what made the emo boy trust him overtook Roman. “Would it be terribly rude of me to ask why you’d want to come and eat with a bunch of people you hardly know?”

  Virgil shrugged. “I dunno. I just kinda…” He turned and pulled up his hood. “Feel like I can trust you. I also don’t really have anyone else, so I mean I don’t have many options.” he lowered his voice to the point where Roman wouldn’t have been able to hear the emo. “And if I at least look like I have friends maybe people will leave me alone this time around…”

  It worked and Roman hadn’t heard his breathless whisper. “Oh! Well I’m touched! In fact I think-”

  Ding!! Ding!! Ding!!

  Damn that bell.

  Class began and Roman didn’t get the chance to mention that he and Patton shared a class. A minor detail, but he was irrationally disappointed that he couldn’t keep talking to his newfound...Friend.

  Roman thought. Friend? Am I not jumping the gun by considering us friends this early on? What would Virgil think? Would he be okay with it? Would he be disgusted? Roman’s mind filled with the image of Roman calling the boy his friend and Virgil smiling widely, happy to be his friend. Roman let himself smile too.

  The period ended and Roman said his farewells to Virgil. Roman pulled out his phone between classes and brought up the group chat.

  Hey I’m bringing a friend of mine to come and sit with us at lunch kk

  It was just a few moments before his phone buzzed quietly in his hands.

  Pat-man: OOOooooOOOooOOoo~~!!

  Pat-man: A *friend* you say? *nudge nudge wink wink*

  Each of his texts were signed with a series of emojis, ranging from hearts to faces.

  Roman typed out a text, leaning against the wall outside his classroom.

  Yes Padre, a FRIEND

  Nothing more than that! I swear you rwad into things way to much

  His Phone buzzed again and Roman looked at the new text.

  Pocket-protector: First off, you misspelled 'Read' and second, you used the wrong 'Too'. Third, if you're speaking of the boy you have gone on about for the past two days, then-

  The bell rang and Roman silently thanked it for saving him the time to read Logan's perfectly composed letter of a text filled with perfect grammar.

  The hours ebbed by anguishingly slow, it seemed the more he wanted to see the pale boy the more the weights the universe attached to time's ankles.

  Finally- finally- the hour struck three minutes till the bell and Roman silently excused himself knowing that the abandoned hall pass in his pocket that would free him of suspicion.

  He got to Virgil’s classroom just in time for the bell to ring and for Roman to quickly lean himself up against the lockers casually.

  Virgil walked out and seemed almost surprised to see Roman standing there before a ghost of a smile adorned his pale face.

  “Honestly, you don’t have to skip out of class early just to wait for me.” Virgil said as he walked up to the taller boy.

  “I know, but it wouldn’t be very chivalrous of me to leave my new friend wandering through the halls with no guide!” Roman smiled and the pair started walking towards the cafeteria.

  “And so that would make you my knight in shining armor?” Virgil teased.

  “No, I like to think of myself as more of a prince.”

  Virgil snorted back his laughter. “But I thought they gave princes education! They’re doing a miserable job rearing you.”

  “Ha, ha. Very funny, Jerky Mcjerk-face.”

  “Ouch! Is that the best comeback you have for me, Princey?” Before, Virgil had called Roman by the theatrical nickname in a friendly manner, now his tone was mocking him, a soundless giggle twinkling in his blue eyes.

  Roman hrumphed and crossed his arms. “Sometimes I’m not entirely on point with my words! I’m human! Even someone as flawless as me can make mistakes!”

  Virgil barked out a short laugh. “Ha!! Flawless! I should bring you up on charges for false advertising!”

  “Then maybe I should do the same with you, Surly-Temple! You’re not as shy as you seem, are you?”

  “Who ever said I was shy? I just don’t like people.”

  “Oh…” Roman internally cursed at his lack of words. He had jumped to conclusions. It was a simple mistake, but it reminded Roman of another thing he should try and fix. He shook it off easily. “Well in that case I’m sure you’ll have no problem introducing yourself to my friends!” He led Virgil through the thick of the now bustling and ever so loud cafeteria to a table in the back near one of the backdoors leading outside. It was a small circular table, like all the others in the room, perfect for a friend group to claim and have no one else intrude.

  Patton and Logan were already sitting down and chatting about what sounded like the emotional and psychological repercussions of being torn from your dimension and being thrown into another. A very fascinating topic to say the least.

  “Hey, Padre! Pocket protector!” Roman announced as they neared the table. Roman noticed out of the corner of his eye Virgil throwing up his hood. “I must introduce to you all, a one Virgil Sanders!” Roman theatrically bowed and gestured toward the purple haired boy next to him.

  Patton stood up immediately and flounced over to the boy. “Hi!! My name’s Patton, but you can just call me Dad!!” He said with a wink as he held out his hand for Virgil to shake. Virgil seemed to relax as he took the sorter boy’s hand in his.

  “Virgil. It’s nice to meet you, Patton.” He smiled lightly.

  Logan had stood as well, letting Virgil come to him. “Logan Rose. A pleasure.” He said politely, extending his own hand. Vigil accepted it and the group started to settle in.

  “You know, Virgil, I think I have the same second period as you!” Patton slipped in as they started taking their seats.

  Virgil seemed to think for a brief second. “Oh, I guess so. I guess nice to re-meet you, then.” He slowly took off his hood and faced Patton who was seated across from him. “Sorry I didn’t recognize you, I tend to not pay attention to stuff like that.”

  “It’s fine! I think it’s great we have a class together! It means less boring moments in the day!”

  Logan was staring at Virgil and he started speaking. “You know, You look familiar to me as well...Do we not share a fifth class together? Ap English in Mr. Evan’s class, if I am correct?”

  Virgil blinked. “Uh...Yeah...So I guess I have a class with each of you then...What are the odds?” Virgil gave a small laugh.

  “Infinitesimal.” Logan replied before biting into his sandwich.

  “Oh speaking of which, do you remember what was taught yesterday? I was trying to do my homework and sort of forgot what he’d said…”

  “I remember absolutely nothing but I do remember he was wearing a pink shirt with a green belt and was disgusted, I mean I may not be one for fashion, but even I know that was a horrific choice.”

  The table erupted into several different kinds of laughter. A loud booming one from Patton, a softer but clear one provided by Roman, and a light chuckle emitted by Virgil.

  Lunch wore on and It seemed like Virgil really connected with everyone.

  He was in a brighter mood for the rest of the day as he walked off with Logan, discussing fan theories about doctor who and Sherlock, and then happier still when he met up with Roman in the theater and got to have his older brother teach him for what seemed like the first actual time.

  And as Virgil bid his farewells, Roman called out to him.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Virge!!” He yelled across the courtyard, waving happily at his new friend.

  “Cya!!” Virgil called back, feeling happy and warm inside.

  Virgil had never even had friends before, and for some reason, having only just met them a few hours ago, felt like these friends were ones that were going to last. He felt so right when he was with them. It felt so right when he would hear Logan talking about one subject or another, or when Patton made a dad joke or pun, or when Roman did something charmingly stupid or funny. It felt right being with them.

  And for someone who’s never felt right in their life, Virgil felt as though it was all too much to actually be real.

  But for once, He didn't worry about that.

Author’s note:

Oh wow! Would you look at that! I’m way early!! I legit thought I wasn’t going to get this done in time because I stopped writing for like two days cause one: I wanted to write a special valentines day mini fic (Link here!) and then two: I was away from my computer and had very tiny motivation. Anyway I hope you guys appreciate my earliness, and note that this probably won’t happen too often. Stay fresh and minty my lovelies!!

Tag list

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[sebthesnipe]

The Dreamer by Whatwashernameagain An Analysis? Chapter 3 Part 2

All portions:

Chapter 1: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Chapter 2: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Chapter 3: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

The Dreamer

by @whatwashernameagain

Reminder: Spoilers under cut!

As Always if you have not done so please read @whatwashernameagain ‘s The Dreamer Chapter 3 before you continue. This analysis is pretty much a giant spoiler if you haven’t.

Also, you can find additional links to The Dreamer analysis on AO3 (and other works by me) here on my masterpost.

Warnings: homophobia, internalized homophobia, republican brainwashing, manipulation, mentioned pedophilia, violence, threatened sexual abuse, injuries, being pressured into sex, nakedness

Gonna just jump back in…

“Being kind as usual, no one chastised Roman for not capturing the Utilitarianist while he was recovering” (Whatwashernameagain).

Though Eva has never specifically said that Roman’s team is out to get him the dramatic irony is certainly implied. She has a way with directing the storyline through these paces to inform the reader that there is nothing ‘kind’ about Roman’s team. Whatever reason they have for not commenting on Roman’s failure to capture the Utilitarianist it is unlikely that it is out of the goodness of their hearts.

“Virgil was anxiously pacing around the bed as he came to, guilty and confused about why he’d been unable to track his friend. The poor thing, he was way too paranoid. Roman did his best to calm him” (Whatwashernameagain).

We see a bit into Virgil’s personality here. It is actually quite interesting if we pay close attention. Here Virgil is showing his anxious side. His guilt and confusion are moving him from his flat characterization (a character that is used to reveal information to push the story along) to a more rounded character. His guilt and confusion provide more insight into his emotional state, making him more developed.

Something, I find just as interesting is that the word ‘paranoid’ is used to describe him. While we as readers know that this is very fitting for the Virgil that is the personification of Anxiety. However, as a handler it is a bit… extreme. Here is a man meant to guide Roman through danger after danger. A typical person would need someone calm and collected in those intense situations. However, Virgil is not a calm and collected individual. Then again, Roman is not a typical individual. Perhaps, this opposition between the two personalities is intentional. I wouldn’t put it past Eva to think quite thoroughly through choosing Virgil as Roman’s handler, just as he was very thorough at choosing Remy as Logan’s. Roman’s… impulsivity *cough*adorable stupidity*cough* is the perfect balance for Virgil’s extreme paranoia and vice versa. For someone wanting to run into every burning building, someone jumping at every shadow can help remind him of his own mortality.

Speaking of more rounded characters, our boi Roman is making some progress himself.

“Despite not being in trouble for getting captured, the rescue had gotten to the media and was fueling the theories about the Dreamer and the Utilitarianist - to a worrying degree. It bothered Roman, since it was clearly ludicrous that he would fall for someone so irritating and immoral, but at least now that Virgil kept him updated, he wasn’t so ashamed anymore” (Whatwashernameagain).

I won’t go into our poor poor Roman’s denial again, but I don’t think it needs to be pointed out here anyways. We all see it. Though, I suppose the constant reminder is some strong foreshadowing. Though we can see Roman’s conscious opinion of Logan. He continues to call him irritating and immoral and perhaps Roman truly believes he is, though more likely subconsciously Roman find him heroic and misguided. The good news is that despite the unwanted publicity Roman is far more secure that he was prior thanks to Virgil.

Teal Swan (An American Spiritual Teacher) once said “We do not fear the unknown. We fear what we think we know about the unknown.” In Roman’s case, he was presented with a collection of hardcore BDSM fan art of himself and The Utilitarianist. The pictures themselves did not scare him, pictures themselves are not scary. However, it is what he thought he knew of the people who created them that scared him. It wasn’t until Virgil educated him that this changed. Roman’s knowledge of this ‘unknown’ grew and what he thought he knew shifted. Suddenly, these images weren’t so scary anymore. (That and he thinks he’s straight which is amusing AF).

Lillian Russell also once said “We all have a fear of the unknown. What one does with that fear will make all the difference in the world.” Roman may have allowed his fear to overpower him for a moment but he chose to stand against it and thus overcame it (with Virgil’s help of course). I realize that this is a bit off topic, but it is something that I feel needs to be said, especially now. The world around us is falling apart are there is no one hero to save us. Some people believe that this is the natural world fighting back against us, others believe it is a religious occurrence. I can’t say one way or another, but I do know that the fear is the same no matter the reasons behind this virus that is taking so many lives.

I can’t say for other countries or even other states, but the reaction to this pandemic that I have seen is heartbreaking. My family and I don’t go out, not because of fear of contracting the virus, but because of people’s reaction to the fear they feel. Fear is a strong motivator that causes conflicts among thousands of people every day. It is a virus in and of itself, breeding and spreading wherever it goes. The world is terrified, and it is our job to react appropriately to these fears, as individuals. You can’t control your neighbor’s reaction to their fear, but you can control your own and sometimes that is enough. Sometimes that enough to calm those around you. Perhaps you can be the beacon of hope that they need to find their own stability. Perhaps you can be the difference in their world.

Okay… Rant over… Back to the wonderful writing!

“Yes, the implication of being in a homosexual relationship and performing sodomy with his nemesis, something he’d been taught was impure and went against god’s wishes, still made heat rise into his cheeks, but he couldn’t help softening towards the mostly harmless fanculture” (Whatwashernameagain).

Okay, lets pay really close attention to the wording here because it is very important! Eva knows what she’s doing, the sly dog! Roman POV points out that the homosexual relationship that is painted between he and Logan is ‘something he’d been taught was impure and went against god’s wishes’. Hold up! Rewind! ‘Something he’d been taught’. No where in this section does Roman’s POV ever claim that Roman, himself, believes that it is wrong. He points out that he is taught that it is wrong, but once again we see the same impressionable boy I’ve mentioned throughout the previous chapters. A child’s thoughts is not their own, but their parents.

Since the last time I mentioned this, I have actually looked further into research behind this view (having children of my own, I find it even more compelling). A study from Cambridge University, published in 2013 points out that “Children are more likely to adopt their family's political views when politics is important to their parents, and the children of politically engaged parents tend to become politically engaged adults” (Dinas, Elias). Is this starting to sound familiar? Well, hold onto your trousers (if you’re wearing any) because it gets better. “When these transmission dynamics are considered together, an important hypothesis follows: the children who are most likely to initially acquire the political views of their parents are also most likely to later abandon them as a result of their own engagement with the political world” (Dinas, Elias). So, Roman is most likely getting his political views from his father through he’s more likely to lose those views as he gets older. Perhaps, we are seeing this now? He has never claimed to have the same beliefs, though he has pointed out that he has been thought them. So, the question is, when? When, if ever, will Roman discard these beliefs?

Well, other research shows that “Young people from politicised homes may be more likely to acquire an initial partisan orientation from their parents, but they are also more likely to abandon that preference as they enter adulthood and experience politics for themselves” (2013). So, most children who have adopted their parent’s belief like Roman has tend to shed those beliefs as they experience the real world and grow into adults. Here is where things change for RoRo. Firstly, he's never really experienced the world without his father or the team his father has provided to look after him. So, no real-world experience. Secondly, from what we have gathered Roman is still fairly young. Most likely, he’s in his mid-twenties, Logan being around thirty. So, Roman has also only been an adult for a few years now. That combined with the fact that he is just now breaking away from his father’s influence long enough to experience the world around him makes his realization that he does not have the same belief system that he once shared with his father inevitable. My only concern is that the possibility of Roman having an identity crisis due to his discovery of an isolated belief system. The poor boy is going to have a hard-enough time when he realizes he is gay… but to have his beliefs stripped away and rebuilt after defining himself by them so completely is going to be harder than anything he has ever faced.

I have barely managed to get through two paragraphs… Oof… We’re going to have to skim a bit if I’m going to get through this chapter in just four parts. We see Roman’s view points on LGBTQ+ community and his purity that we love so much! Then we see Karen’s (-.- You’re so F*ing static Karen!) view point of it. She suggests that they pray for them and their ‘wrong’ doings. Which would send me on a rant about ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ and the human constructions that they are… and morality… and we’re just going to skip all that ^.^.

I’m going to brush past a lot of the dialog here but there are somethings that I want to touch on. Firstly, Eva uses verbal irony so beautifully that it hurts. Karen mentions that the LGBTQ+ community’s allegiance shows ‘the damage [the community’s] lifestyle had done to [the community’s] morals’ and asks Roman if he wants to ‘help people see a more healthy way to live’ (Whatwashernameagain). What Karen is really implying is that all of these people are sinful and need to be punished for the atrocities of their life choices. Karen’s pleasant tone and careful wording helps conceal the real meaning of her words which makes the verbal irony here quite beautifully written. Though what do we expect from Eva?

Before Roman can give his full reply, she cuts him off like the bitch she is…

I might be projecting a bit… I apologize…

Though, I also want to point out that during the interaction between Karen and Roman she never refers to him as anything but ‘dear’. Now, this is probably a me thing, but I can’t help myself. So, if you’ve read all of my analysis, you’d know that I have a background in Law Enforcement. Why is this important? Well, one of the first lessons you learn as a woman in Law Enforcement is that you don’t ever, EVER, allow someone to get away with calling you anything but Officer, Ma’am, or by your last name. Now, it might not seem that important to most people, but how can you expect someone to respect you if they continuously call you ‘girl’, ‘baby’, ‘sweetheart’, or ‘dear’. These are pet names. There is no respect to be had when someone is calling you by a pet name… at least not in a professional sense (romantic relationships are a different story. My husband can call me baby anytime he wants, and I still know that he respects me). Granted, there are some people that do this unconsciously. I’ve seen it mostly in older men who call every woman younger than them ‘sugar’ or ‘darlin’.

Still, there is a problem presented here. I’ve mentioned a number of times throughout this analysis of our thoughts effect on the outside world (specifically water and thus ourselves). A person can mean no disrespect by calling someone in an authoritative position ‘dear’ and yet by doing so, they effect their own thoughts, even subconsciously, resulting in a disrespect they may not even be aware of.

Karen provides us with a prime example of this. She calls Roman ‘dear’ because she has no respect for him. In her eyes, Roman is nothing but a tool to be used for her own gain. He holds no respect from her. He is merely a child to be manipulated however she sees fits. Hence, while she is maneuvering the hero to where she wants him, she refers to him as ‘dear’.

The next issue is that Roman is putty in her hands. The next paragraph is a reminder of Roman’s gullible nature. We see him easing into Karen’s manipulations and blaming himself once more. We see the same self-deprecation that has become a Roman original. It reminds us that Roman’s insecurities are yet another tool that his team uses against him. I believe I have mention something similar to this before, but in the words of Napoleon Hill “The only limitation is that which one sets up in one’s own mine.” In other words, Roman is limiting himself with his self-insulting nature. Once he allows himself to let go of that he will be a force to reckon with, someone even Karen’s bitch-ass can’t handle.

However, we see another indication that Roman’s views no longer match up with his team’s. Though it is obvious once again that his tendencies to put himself down really hinder him from being the hero that he has always dreamed of being.  

“The fact that he wasn’t all that bothered by the shipping was probably making it worse. He was forgetting that his personal opinion wasn’t what mattered here” (Whatwashernameagain).

We also see him try to reaffirm his thoughts of Logan. He has to remind himself that his current thoughts of Logan are not what they are supposed to be. Logan is the Utilitarianist and the Utilitarianist is still his archenemy. Roman, still in denial, is trying to recenter himself for the task at hand. Of course, this also brings up the sense of paranoia that Karen is helping sew inside him. This conflict of course is more than just what it seems.

Roman’s dilemma of right and wrong is also a battle of his sexuality. It is a battler of his views. It is a battle of who he is. Is Roman the man that found comfort in another man’s arms? Or is Roman the man who subjected himself to torture to be what he thought the world needed? Is he larger than life or at the end of a day is he as vulnerable to his emotions as the rest of us are?

We also see more of that dramatic irony as Karen plants the notion that the Utilitarianist did not help individuals. While, for the most part this is true, there is more to this. We know that as the Utilitarianist Logan pays no attention to the individual. In that aspect Karen is correct. However, Logan has shown on more than one occasion, his appreciation for Roman’s work and his appreciation for Roman himself. This would imply that Karen is correct; The Utilitarianist does not help individuals just as the Dreamer would never seek the help of a villain. However, Logan would help an individual, just as Roman would seek comfort from another. These men are more than their uniform despite what Karen would have them believe.

Eva moves into foreshadowing with a simple sentence, a perfectly places three word sentence that hits us all where it hurts:

“Roman’s heart sank” (Whatwashernameagain).

Whatever is about to come is gonna hurt…

Karen claims they have found a way to fix the entire situation caused by the rescue… Still calling my bae ‘dear’ -.- Most of us know where this is going and…

Susan…

By the way, I love these horribly generic cis white names that Eva keeps coming up with. It’s hilarious. As for Susan’s description…

“Flipping open the file, Roman found that the solution was called Susan. She was a white woman with blonde hair and cornflower-blue eyes. Upper middle class. Conservative” (Whatwashernameagain).

I have so many issues with this… First off, leave it to these assholes to chiose a nazi’s wet dream for our boi. (No offense Eva, I love you and I think it was a perfect choice <3) So, to start off, they chose a woman that conform’s to America’s unrealistic standards of beauty. I’m sure she where’s far too much make up and could have any man in the world. This, of course, is in no way a shot at woman that look like this. Every person is beautiful, and I will not body shame someone no matter how they look. However, it is obvious that Eva created Susan to conform to these standards and thus needs to be addressed. The fact that Susan is Middle class is also a deliberate choice in the sense that if they chose a woman that was any higher Roman would be seen as greedy and shallow and if he were to be seen with someone of the lower class, he would lose funding. As for Conservative… Well… I don’t think I need to say anything here.

I’m going to move on before I get too annoyed with this. As we move forward, Karen notes that Roman looks spooked. This is call indirect characterization, which is when another character tells us something about a character. In this case Eva is using Karen to reinforce that Roman is uncomfortable with the opposite sex or romantic relations in general. Though as a reader we already are aware of the ship this fic is based around, so we know that the later probably isn’t true. Karen also refers to Susan as ‘A little friend’ which is very demeaning and implies that Karen sees Susan the same way she sees Roman, as a tool. It is obvious that Karen believes Roman can be persuaded by sex though his uncomfortable nature certainly speaks otherwise.

This also highlights a bit of the Right wing’s thoughts on women in general and how they should be treated though I feel as if I should refrain from pushing my own opinions on their beliefs into this analysis. However, in extremists’ case (both men and women) have repeated claimed that women have a specific ‘role’ in society, and it is not equal to their male counter parts. Now, the fact that I disagree may label me as a feminist, but I prefer the label of equalist as you will note when we get into the heartier bits of this chapter.

I once again want to remind everyone of the warning attached to this chapter. They are there for a reason, please pay attention to them.

“Roman stared at her, trying to find words for the sudden fear he felt. Laughter about his shocked expression filled the room, then quieted and finally tapered off into awkward silence.

“I… I need to think about it.” Roman had finally stuttered. Karen’s smile had grown forced” (Whatwashernameagain).

Here we see Roman faced with fear that is not surprising in an individual that has not realized he is homosexual. In fact, it is a very real and horrible feeling. I mentioned in my last post the fact that mental anguish can feel worse than physical and here we see a man being mentally tortured.

In a previous chapter I also discussed Roman’s inability to watch porn. Imagine, if you will, a man who has not accepted himself for who he is and can not allow himself the thought of two men together. Therefore, gay porn does not exist to him. Instead the only porn he knows of is male+female. The thought of sex with a female makes him uncomfortable and/or squeamish. He does not need to realize that he is gay to know this and instead probably thinks there is something wrong with himself. So, perhaps it is not the Roman is different from every other (sexually driven (because I realize there are different sexualities that do not have the same urges)) American’s out there, he is not alone, it is just that he doesn’t understand his own preferences. Our poor baby has never been taught how to cope in a heterosexual driven world and thus buries his true self from everyone including himself. This would make the forced relationship between himself and Susan all the more painful, no doubt.

As if to prove my point, Eva describes the room’s laughter at Roman’s hesitance. No doubt they know he is gay even if he doesn’t and finds his torture amusing. Though, our poor naïve RoRo probably doesn’t see it that way.

““Think about it? But of course, dear. We just want you to have a coffee together, go on a walk. If she’s not the right one for you, we can surely find another lady friend for you. Is it the hair color? The figure? We are very flexible for your preferences. Within a reasonable limit, of course.” She soothed him, patting his hand again” (Whatwashernameagain).

Karen of course, senses these things and tries to reassure Roman. She reminds him that their relationship doesn’t have to be sexual, in her subtle way. She also adds that if he doesn’t like Susan, they can find someone else more suited to his needs. However, she pointedly adds that it has to be ‘another lady friend’, which of course would imply that she is aware the Roman might be gay as well, and that it is unacceptable.

We also see Karen discussing women as if they can be ordered off a menu. I’ll take a five four Hispanic woman, hold the curves! Bitch please! You’re an over glorified pimp at this point! No one should be characterized in this manner, men, women, or non-binary! It is an outrage and the fact that it is so upsetting while still so subtle is another nod to how amazingly skilled the author is. Eva astounds us once again by creating a realistic subtle lifelike villain. Brava, Brava!

Roman sees Karen’s intended words as well, which is a development for the naïve man. He sees exactly what his limitations are:

“A reasonable limit meaning white, Christian, conservative, born American, cis, heterosexual female, his mind supplied. Suddenly, he felt terrible. His stomach hurt” (Whatwashernameagain).

By choosing a woman of these standards, Roman would be checking off all the boxes for his far Right winged team. If he misses any of these boxes it could send the wrong message. If she’s anything but heterosexual, then he supports LGBTQ+ communities. If she’s of any other culture, then he supports the minorities. If she is not conservative, then neither is he.

This is a big moment for the hero. He is finally grasping the idea of just how trapped he is there. He may be one of the strongest people in the world but the chains around him are heavier than those of a man in prison.

Still, fear is a powerful motivator and when faced with too much our instincts kick in. Roman faces his fight or flight instincts and fighting is not an option. So, he gives in. He agrees to Susan because what else can he do?

Still, ignoring the comment about men being men, that Eva know doubt added to hammer that last nail in Karen’s well-deserved coffin, we see more of Roman’s inner turmoil with his sexuality. “He tried not to think about the disastrous attempts at dating women, of the many nights he’d prayed to god to make him stop having those terrible thoughts, about his fear of going to hell for his dreams. He’d thought he’d escaped the pressure of going out with women when he’d dedicated his life to fighting for justice.

He buried himself under his blanket and tried not to think of her. This nice, normal girl, and about how wrong he felt imagining touching her” (Whatwashernameagain).

This gives me pause. Up until now it has been Roman’s unaware of his sexuality and at first seems much of the same; and yet, we see him mention dreams. What sort of dreams could Roman be having? Wet dreams of a certain vigilante? Probably nothing so lude, but a girl could dream. Regardless, it is possible that Roman is aware that he is homosexual and is simple repressing the knowledge for his own safety. Because, in a world as hostile as the one he is experiencing… Coming out can be as dangerous as stepping into the middle of a gang war…

     “Children with Politically Engaged Parents Are More Likely to Deviate from Their Parents' Political Views in Adulthood.” EUROPP, 17 May 2013, blogs.lse.ac.uk/europpblog/2013/05/17/children-with-politically-engaged-parents-are-more-likely-to-deviate-from-their-parents-political-views-in-adulthood/#Author.

Dinas, Elias. “Why Does the Apple Fall Far from the Tree? How Early Political Socialization Prompts Parent-Child Dissimilarity.” British Journal of Political Science, vol. 44, no. 4, 2014, pp. 827–852., doi:10.1017/S0007123413000033.

Whatwashernameagain. “The Dreamer - Chapter 1.” Hello Guys Gals And Non Binary Friends, 8 Sept. 2019, https://whatwashernameagain.tumblr.com/post/187581477262/the-dreamer-chapter-1.