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floralguccistyles · 5 years ago

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four: empty child

I had mixed feelings about it being February first.

Of course I was excited, because I got paid on the first and fifteenth of each month so I was ready to have money again. My refrigerator was getting horrifyingly low and I had run out of tampons. I also liked the first of each month because it meant no matter how shitty January was (and it had been decently shitty), February was a new month.

It was also Harry Styles’ birthday.

Surprisingly, I had already known this before his stardom. Even though he and his group of my tormentors had hardly been on my radar after secondary school had ended, I remembered them always making a big to-do of each others’ birthdays. Oliver and Emma’s birthdays were late August, right around when the school year would start. Emma’s boyfriend had a birthday in March. Nathan’s birthday was November thirteenth.

And Harry Styles’ was February first.

Contrary to popular belief, my world did not revolve around Harry Styles. I simply woke up on the morning of the first, checked my bank account and did a little happy dance when I realized I would be able to afford groceries, and then scrolled on Twitter. I didn’t even correlate the day to his birthday until I saw the hashtag trending.

I hadn’t given Harry much thought since two weeks ago, when the bouquet of flowers had arrived on my doorstep. I didn’t want to know how he got my address (probably Bailey) and I didn’t want to think about the fact that he was the first guy to have ever gotten me flowers. I didn’t want Harry to be the first boy to have given me flowers. My first experience felt tainted now. I always dreamed that I would press the first flower someone gave to me in the thickest book I could find. With the bouquet from Harry, I didn’t bother. It made me sad that my plan had been spoiled. They had gone in the trash after a week, when they had started to wilt; even though I couldn’t bring myself to press a flower form Harry’s bouquet, it didn’t mean I was going to throw away perfectly good flowers until they were dying.

Upon realizing it was his birthday, I stopped doing my happy dance and frowned down at my Twitter feed before shutting out of the app. It was highly unlikely I’d be interacting with Harry any time soon (if ever) so I didn’t feel that I had to see his face plastered on all my social media accounts.

I dressed in some warmer clothes for my biweekly trek to the supermarket. Zach was out of town for the week with some uni friends, so Jeremiah was letting me borrow his car to run my errands. I appreciated the fact that I didn’t have to Uber to the market. There was a Spiceways about eight minutes from my flat, so I drove through the streets of Merton until I pulled up to the store, hopping out of Jeremiah’s car with a little bit of difficulty because it was so high up.

Unlike some, I didn’t mind grocery shopping. Maybe it was because when I was younger and wanted to get junk food all the time, my mum wouldn’t let me. With the freedom to choose whatever I damn well pleased, grocery shopping wasn’t the horror that most people made it out to be.

I was debating between Jaffa Cakes and Aero bars when my phone rang.

“Hello?” I asked without really looking at the caller ID.

“Hey Petra,” Bailey’s happy voice said from the other side of the line.

Bailey had been diligent about checking in on me since the Peter incident. I appreciated her worry. She’d been texting me a little and asking how my days had been and stuff about the podcast that she easily could have asked Veronica. I liked that she was keeping an eye on me.

“Hey,” I responded. “Quick question. Jaffa Cakes or Aero bars?”

“Aero all the way.”

“Got it.” I threw the box of Aero bars in my cart. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to invite you to a party tonight. Veronica and I are going and she suggested that we invite you. Jeremiah, too.” I heard rustling on the other side of the line and wondered what she was making.

Bailey made things for Etsy in her free time, when she wasn’t busy being a badass biochemist. I had actually gotten a knitted scarf from her a couple years ago and still had it. She was known for making little things like hair accessories or blankets, but sometimes she dabbled in clothes. Which was why she and Veronica’s flat was covered in fabrics. It was like walking into a craft store.

“A party? For what?” Decided to screw my health, I threw in the box of jaffa cakes in the cart as well. I wouldn’t eat them all in one sitting, I reasoned with myself. One a day couldn’t be too terrible for my health.

“Some birthday party Jeff invited me to. It’s in Hampstead, so they’ll have the good alcohol. Veronica’s never met Jeff so she wanted us to go.”

Jeff Azoff had helped Harry with his first record. Bailey was friends with Jeff Azoff. Harry’s birthday, coincidentally, happened to be today. “Is it Harry Styles’ birthday party?”

“I didn’t actually ask Jeff, but if it’s his birthday today, then probably.”

I sighed. “Probably not a good idea for Harry Styles and I to be in the same vicinity. Last time I nearly bit his head off. Rightfully so, but…” I trailed off, shaking my head at the memory. And with the memory also came visions of my pretty pink tulips and white baby’s breath. “Thanks for the invite, though.”

“I know you and Harry have got a rocky relationship, but I imagine this party’s going to be huge. Chances are you won’t even see him there. I just want you to be able to get out and have some fun. If you want to leave, I’ll be the first one to pay for an Uber for you.”

I debated it for a moment. It would be nice to get out of the house. I had been holed up between my flat and Outset, working on AC and simultaneously feeling like a fool about my awful date with Peter. I was usually very observant of someone’s character and it had thrown me off that I had gotten Peter so wrong. And Bailey was right. If the party was in Hampstead, Bailey was correct in assuming there would be good alcohol. No one in Hampstead would dare buy the cheap stuff. It would also be nice to hang out with Jeremiah and Veronica outside of AC.

“I don’t know, Bails. Can I get a couple hours to think about it?”

“Sure, no problem. It starts at seven. I’ll text you later and if you need a ride, Veronica and I can come grab you.”

I appreciated that she wasn’t pushing me to go, like my parents would have been. They would have demanded I show up and try to get to know the “new Harry.” We hung up the call after I promised to text her once I made a decision, and I stared at my shopping cart for a little while longer before I decided that he wasn’t going to consume my thoughts. I had once let him do that, when I was younger and more insecure. It wasn’t going to happen again.

I was usually done shopping in about thirty minutes because I didn’t dawdle around as I filled my basket with shitty food. Something this time, however, had me standing in the middle of the Mexican food isle, my brain still focused on Peter’s words. Though it had been racist of him to say it the way he did, I think it also bothered me because of how wrong he was. I didn’t know what foods from my culture were good because my parents had tried to conform to the English foods.

My grandmother on my father’s side had come to visit us only once when she had gotten a bonus from her job in Santa Clara. She had scoured the isles of every market in town, trying to find acceptable ingredients for the meal she promised my father. That night, I had arroz con pollo, empanadas, flan, and a cake with dulce de leche poured on top. It had been the best meal of my entire life.

No one in my family had made anything like that since.

I was holding a box of Spanish rice in my hand, trying to decide if I could make myself arroz con pollo like my grandmother did, when a little girl accidentally bumped into me. She looked to be about five years old, with a cute little gap tooth that I spotted when she smiled hesitantly at me.

“Lo siento,” she said softly, hugging onto her mother’s leg. Her mother shot me an apologetic glance.

“It’s okay,” I managed, smiling at the little girl. “I like your bow.” I pointed to the glittery silver bow in her hair. It took up half of her head.

She glanced at her mother, her eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. Her mother stammered over a couple of words as she responded to me. “We...speak...no English,” she said, her voice heavily accented.

I felt the shame flow through me. Shame that I hadn’t ever forced my parents to teach me Spanish. Shame that I couldn’t communicate with this little girl and her mother. Shame that I had gotten so lost in England that I hadn’t picked up Spanish myself.

“No se mucho español,” I said as a way of explaining, hoping the apologetic expression on my face was enough to convey to her that I was truly sorry I couldn’t compliment her little girl’s bow.

The mother just smiled at me and nodded politely before she and the little girl started off in the opposite direction of the isle. The little girl turned around and gave me a big wave, her little gap-toothed grin flashing before she faced in front of her once more. Their lives, just like that, unaffected by someone they ran into that couldn’t speak Spanish.

Meanwhile, I was frozen.

I felt like crying, as stupid as it sounded. But it wasn’t the first time someone had asked me something in Spanish and I hadn’t been able to respond. And even though I knew I shouldn’t, I always felt like a bad person. Like I should be more in-tune with my heritage. Like I wasn’t allowed to call myself Cuban because really, I hadn’t even ever been to Cuba.

I put the box of rice back on the shelf, and stupidly, it felt like I was putting half of my soul back.

Maybe it would be a good idea to go to Harry’s party. Bailey was probably right about a ton of people being there. He was internationally known. There would have to be at least two hundred people at one of his parties, probably more. If I stayed with Jeremiah and Veronica, he wouldn’t even notice me. And after the emotional turmoil of the supermarket, I was ready for a drink or two. Or three. And even if he did notice me, that didn’t mean I couldn’t ignore him. Just because it was his birthday didn’t mean I had to be nice to him.

He could tell you that you need to get your head out of your ass and be a real person instead of living in fantasy books.

But hopefully, I reasoned, I would be too drunk to care if he did do that.

Which is the only reason why I texted Bailey an hour later, when my groceries were in my fridge and I was in the comfort of my own home.

I’ll be there tonight. But can I bring Melody?

“Okay, but can I throat punch him?”

“You know, I’m gonna assume no.”

“Bummer.”

Melody and I were standing outside of the house in Hampstead. I didn’t know who it belonged to. When I had asked Bailey in the car she had shrugged her shoulders. At least that meant it wasn’t Jeff’s, since I would assume Bailey would know if it was his house.

Bailey, Jeremiah, and Veronica had already made their way inside. Melody and I, however, were still outside staring at the front of the house. It was obnoxiously grandiose. I couldn’t imagine having that much space and having to actually decorate it. We had stumbled out of the car and I found myself unable to go any further.

“We can leave whenever you want,” Melody reminded me. It was the fourth time she had mentioned this fact.

“I’m twenty-four. What does it say that I’m still terrified of someone I went to secondary school with?”

“That you’re a normal human being who doesn’t like to be made fun of and that he’s a dick?” Melody offered helpfully. I snorted.

“Reckon we should go in,” I said after a couple of moments. She nodded, patting my shoulder affectionately before we both trekked up the front porch. The door was open because the estate was surrounded by what I assumed were military-grade security cameras and a huge opaque fence. The only people who were getting inside the fence either had the gate code or were rock climbers.

As soon as we stepped inside, my body rattled with the bass of the song playing. I didn’t recognize it, but I probably didn’t listen to the same music Harry Styles did, so I wasn’t surprised. Melody had the extraordinary ability of finding alcohol wherever it was hidden, so it was only about ten seconds before she tugged me in the direction of the kitchen, where there was a wide array of drinks lining the kitchen counter. A kitchen counter, I might add, that was the size of a swimming pool. Melody grabbed a beer and handed it to me. I didn’t hesitate to take a swig.

I didn’t spot my other companions, which was good and bad news. Bad news because I wanted to spend time with them, good news because if finding them was hard, then certainly finding the birthday boy was going to be impossible. “I want to take a look around this house,” Melody mentioned to me after she had grabbed herself a drink.

Fine with getting away from the crowd, I let her pull me into the left hallway. There were only two doors, and one of them was open. It was a bathroom, but it wasn’t a normal bathroom. It was probably the size of my bedroom and front room combined. There was a giant clawfoot tub and shower across from a marble countertop with black sink basins. Melody’s jaw dropped open as we stepped inside.

“Fuck this is nice,” she commented, twirling around to take in the bathroom in its entirety. “Can you imagine owning a tub like that? I’d never leave.”

I agreed. I was a sucker for a good clawfoot tub. This one looked like it could easily fit four people. “I could live in that tub.”

“Wonder what this room is,” she said, casually walking out of the bathroom and opening up the other door. I was about to scold her for being rude, but most of the party guests were outside in the yard and barely took notice of us.

This looked like a guest room of some kind. The walls were painted a dark navy blue and the room was accented with dark walnut and white colored woods, making the contrast sharp. The bed was king sized, decorated with other little navy pillowcases and navy sheets. There was a black and white blanket at the end of the bed that looked like it would be scratchy. I figured it was just there for decoration. There weren’t many pictures on the walls, but there was one of a giant black and white elephant next to a telly that was plastered to the wall.

“Holy shit. I could just stay in here and no one would know.” Then, in an action that absolutely horrified me, she jumped onto the bed, wiggling around in the sheets. “Oh Christ, you’ve got to get a load of this bed, Petra.”

“No,” I hissed out, crossing my arms over my chest. “Melody, this isn’t our house.”

“I guarantee whoever lives here doesn’t give a right fuck.”

“You aren’t wrong, I suppose.”

The new voice had me jumping in my skin. Melody didn’t even both to sit up, just waving away whoever the voice was, but I turned to see whose bedroom we were snooping in. The face that greeted me wasn’t one I expected to see. Obviously, she didn’t expect to see me either, since her amused expression dropped from her face and she glanced at me with wide eyes.

“Petra? Petra Gallego?” Gemma Styles asked with a slowly-forming smile on her face. “Holy shit.” And then her arms were around me, pulling me into a friendly hug.

Unlike Harry, I had never had a problem with Gemma. Knowing that she was one of the kindest people I’d ever met, I knew it wasn’t likely she knew how her brother treated me. She always said hi to me when she saw me around Holmes Chapel and even offered to curl my hair for prom for year ten. I didn’t end up going until year eleven because of Harry and his friends, but I appreciated the offer. Since she was a little older than me, we never really kept in touch, but I kept up with her sometimes.

“Oh good,” Melody mentioned from the bed. “You know the person who sleeps in this room. Meaning I can sleep here.”

Gemma pulled away from me. “Isn’t it magnificent? I’m glad he splurged on that mattress. Means I don’t sleep like shit when I come visit.”

“Wait, what? Is this… is this Harry’s house?” I asked. Gemma had already floated over to her bed and flopped down next to Melody like the two of them were best friends.

“You didn’t know that? But you’re here.”

“I knew it was his party, I didn’t know it was his house.” And now I felt like an idiot. I was standing inside Harry Styles’ home. “Fuck, I’ve got to go.”

“Why?” Gemma asked, sitting up. “I’m not mad you’re in here.”

“No, I mean I have to leave the house.” I didn’t want to be in Harry’s house. I didn’t know why it made a difference whose house it was, but I knew it did. My skin was crawling. I had knowingly walked into the lion’s den. “Melody, we’ve got to leave.”

“Alright, but you’re going to have to peel me up.”

Gemma stood up easily enough and frowned at me. “Is Harry being a dick to you again? I’ll punch him in the nose, I swear.” At the expression on my face, her frown deepened. “He’s changed, Petra. I promise. If I thought for a second Harry was still acting like a shitty teenage boy, I’d drive you home myself. I’d just hate for you to feel like you have to leave.”

I appreciated her loyalty to her brother, I really did. But I didn’t want to be in here and I didn’t want to be around Gemma anymore, not when she would so blindly advocate for him. I was happy she’d punched him in the nose when she found out how he treated me when we were kids, but that didn’t mean she was going to support me telling her brother to go fuck himself. She loved him too much. I saw the way they were when we were younger, like they were two sides of the same coin.

“She’s right, you know.”

“Oh Jesus fuck, of course you’re here,” Melody mentioned, still lying on the bed in Harry Styles’ guest room. Unlike Gemma, this voice wasn’t a surprise.

Harry gave me a hesitant smile. “I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want, but you should stay and enjoy the party. I’ll make myself scarce.”

“You shouldn’t have to in your own house,” I said regrettably, clenching my teeth so I wouldn’t add a “fucker” to my sentiments. “If I had known it was your place, I wouldn’t have come.”

He looked defeated, but also like he knew he deserved my harsh words. I felt a spike of pleasure at his sad expression. I knew it was vindictive and mean, but I didn’t care.

“Yeah, cause you’re a raging twat.”

I snickered at Melody’s deadpan tone and the surprised look on Harry’s face when he realized the other person in the room wasn’t someone he knew. Melody pulled herself up from the bed and lazily stood, giving Harry a once over and looking entirely unimpressed.

“You must be Melody.”

“Damn straight I’m Melody,” she huffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “And you’re an arsehole.”

Gemma raised a brow but didn’t say much else.

“I know,” Harry replied, and I was surprised by his admittance. Then, without thinking about it, he stepped aside and gestured out into the hall. “You want a tour of the rest of the house? I’ve got a Super Caeser in my room.”

Melody’s mouth dropped open. “Holy shit. Those are the beds that fit four people right?” At Harry’s nod, she grinned. “Lead the way, twat.”

It was my mouth’s turn to drop open. “Melody,” I hissed underneath my breath. Where was the solidarity? Where was the earlier promise that she’d leave with me if I decided I wanted to go home?

“I know, I know,” she whispered to me as Harry left the room and started down the hallway. “But I’ve never seen a Super Caeser mattress before and I really want to.” She cast a glance at Gemma, who was still standing in the room. “You like her right? Stay with her. I’ll be right back.” And then she was out the door, leaving me glaring at her.

“I’ve caught Alien Crossing a couple of times,” Gemma said as a way to make conversation. I noticed that we were moving out of the guest room. Now that I knew Gemma was the one using it, I felt worse for snooping. “It’s fucking brilliant, Petra. Good for you making something so unique and fun.”

“Oh. Thanks.” I didn’t know what else to say. I wasn’t used to members of the Styles family praising me for what I did.

We were walking aimlessly in the same direction Harry and Melody had left in. I slowed my steps, but I felt rude if I didn’t follow Gemma and let our conversation randomly end. “The episode with Harry seemed to go well. When he called me and told me he was going to be on, I nearly had an aneurysm. I was sure you wouldn’t want him within five feet of you.”

“I didn’t. I asked him to be on because the guest we had lined up had a family emergency.”

Gemma suddenly stopped in her tracks. We were in the hallway to the right side of the front door now, where I could see three more doors that probably contained bathrooms and bedrooms bigger than my entire flat. “I never tried to get in touch to apologize, Petra.”

“Apologize?” I blinked in surprise. “Apologize for what?”

“For Harry being a prick,” she said softly, shrugging her shoulders and crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I know he’s not my responsibility, but… I just really wish he hadn’t been so nasty to you. It was really out of character for him. I’d like to say with confidence that he was just doing it to go along with his friends, but I don’t know. I’ve felt guilty about it ever since he told me.”

“Gemma, you’re right. He’s not your responsibility. He knew what he was doing and he chose to do it anyway. I’m not mad at you.”

“But you’re mad at him. And it sucks because he totally deserves it.”

He did. He deserved my anger, my wrath, my disdain. He deserved for me to tell him to stay the fuck out of my life and never contact me again. I should have told him that. But there was something about seeing Gemma’s defeated expression that had me keeping my comments to myself.

So instead, I shrugged. “It is what it is, Gemma.”

And that, unfortunately, was the truth. It was too late for her apologies, and she wasn’t the one that was supposed to be giving them. Melody suddenly appeared as Gemma and I stood in the hallway, looking nothing short of enchanted. She all but floated to my side, a wistful expression on her face.

“I want one,” she said after a few moments. I snorted. Harry emerged from the room looking like he wanted to laugh and frown at the same time. It was a weird dichotomy. “But the fog of a Super Caesar mattress has cleared from my head, so I will happily leave with you if you’d like to leave.”

Though I had no patience for Harry, I did have patience for Gemma. And one look at her guilty face, though she had nothing to be guilty for, had me hesitating. “I’ll...stay for a bit,” I said quietly. Melody looked surprised, but nodded her head. Harry looked like someone had just told him the best news ever. It looked entirely too happy and fake to be an expression on the face of Harry Styles, but I wasn’t focused much on him. I was focused on his sister, who gave me a hopeful smile before she glared at her brother.

“Great! Melody and I will go get you another beer. Harry can give you a tour of the house.”

I didn’t have time to open my mouth and argue before Gemma was grabbing Melody’s arm in a vice like grip and pulling her in the direction of the kitchen. That left Harry and I alone, standing in his hallway. I crossed my arms over my chest. He put his hands in his pockets.

It was all very, very awkward.

“I’m not gonna say happy birthday,” I suddenly burst out. I think I surprised him because he jumped a little.

“That’s okay,” he agreed softly. Another few moments of awkward silence. “Well, do you want the tour? It’s okay if you don’t.”

I didn’t really care much about Harry Styles’ house, but I had a feeling if I went to go find Gemma and Melody, Gemma would just find a way to bring me back to right where I was standing. “Whatever. Just start walking.”

He did as I said, turning on his heels and opening up the first door. It was another guest room, but it didn’t look like anyone stayed in it much. There was a desk and a computer in there as well, so I figured he used it for an office. “This is one of the guest rooms,” he said hesitantly, like he wasn‘t entirely sure I wouldn’t just turn around and leave him in the middle of speaking. “Gemma doesn’t like staying in here because she thinks the government is watching her from the webcam of the computer.”

I raised a brow. “Doesn’t she have an iPhone?”

He grinned. “Yep.”

I wanted to ask him to stop smiling because when he smiled I wanted to punch him, but I figured that would be weird, even for me. So instead, I hummed out a response before I turned and walked towards the door directly across from the office. It was another bathroom, this one without a claw-foot tub. I automatically liked it less because of that fact. But it was decorated nicely, in soft nudes and tans. Overall, it was very impersonal.

“Your place is a two story,” I mentioned offhandedly just as he was about to open the door to his room.

He furrowed his brows. “Yeah. Why?”

“Why’re you on the first floor then?”

He smiled. “I specifically renovated it a couple years ago so it’s a big open space up there. I’ve got a telly and some instruments. I record ideas for songs there.”

I didn’t know if he expected me to be impressed, but I just nodded my head, going along with what he was saying. He pushed open the door to his room walked in, gesturing to the giant mattress that even I could admit was impressive. There were guitars lining the walls. It would have looked tacky if I had tried to do the same thing in my flat, but it fit this room somehow. There was a giant flat screen against the wall closest to the door, on a stand that was filled to the brim with DVD cases. I didn’t think anyone even watched DVDs anymore.

Harry walked around the room, pointing out the master bath and the record player he had in the furthest corner, along with stacks and rows of vinyls. His voice trailed off when he turned and realized I hadn’t followed him into the room. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

I wasn’t. Because he looked so comfortable in his room, his safe space that he obviously put love and time into. “This room,” I said, pausing to try and find the right words, “you look comfortable in it.”

“Yeah. It’s my safe space.”

I nodded. “That’s what Alien Crossing is to me.”

“I know.”

“No.” I shook my head, closing my eyes to try and fight back the headache growing. “No, you don’t know. Because I’ve never told you. I never told you because when I was fifteen, you told me I had to get my head out of my ass and live in the real world, instead of my little fantasy world.” He at least had the decency to look ashamed. “But you know what, I don’t even care about that. You sent me flowers because Bailey told you what Peter did. But Harry… what your friends said to me was much, much worse. And you didn’t do shit to stop it.”

“I know. I’m so sorry, Petra.”

“I don’t want a fucking apology!” I screamed, suddenly infuriated. I didn’t want to hear him say that he was sorry. It was too late. “I don’t care if that makes me stubborn or selfish or stuck in the past. I hated myself, hated the things I loved, because you and your friends made me feel like shit. Made me feel like less than a person. And then I put myself on the line, asking you to be on my podcast, and it was just a huge mistake because I’m tired of feeling less than. You make me feel less than, Harry. I can’t accept your apology, Harry. Not right now. Not when I still have to see a fucking therapist because Nathan told me to go back to where I came from even though I was born in fucking Cheshire like the rest of you.”

It was silent. If I breathed in the wrong way, he would hear it. But I was just so tired. I sighed and slumped against his door, leaning my body on it as though it would support me for the rest of my life. He stood on the other side of the room, feeling both like he was an ocean away and much, much too close.

“I won’t try and apologize again, because I know that’s not what you want to hear. I know I was awful, Petra. I feel like shit about it. And I’m not saying that to make you feel bad for me or make it all about myself, but because I want you to know that the asshole from Holmes Chapel doesn’t exist anymore. I know it’s going to be hard to get him out of your head, but he’s gone.”

“It doesn’t change what he did,” I replied, pinching the bridge of my nose.

The two of us stood there for who knew how long. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours. He was letting me process and I appreciated that. Deep, deep in my mind, I knew my anger at him was overwhelming. He’d apologized three times now, each one sounding more and more sincere than the last. It didn’t mean I was ready to forgive him by any means, but I could at least acknowledge that he was trying.

“Did Gemma really punch you in the nose when she found out?” I asked after a few moments.

He nodded. “Had to cover it up with a shit ton of makeup because that was around the time we were touring with Big Time Rush.”

I let out a snort, shaking my head at the image of Harry sitting in a makeup chair while they smeared concealer over his nose. Then, I sighed. “Christ, Harry. I’m twenty-four and I don’t have the time or energy to be holding onto this feeling. But you’ve got to keep in mind that it’s going to take a while. I might never forgive you fully.”

“I completely understand.”

Pushing myself up from the door because I figured that was the end of the conversation, I steadied myself and went to walk out to the kitchen. I figured it had been an appropriate enough amount of time spent with Harry; confident that Gemma wouldn’t send me back, I started on my way.

I don’t know what made me turn around to catch the expression on his face, to check and see if it was just a facade that fell away when I turned my back, but I did.

He looked genuinely remorseful. I hated it. Because I knew that if I stuck around long enough, I would start to fall for it and I wasn’t ready to do that quite yet. Which was why I was going to grab another beer for the road and order myself an Uber. Everyone would understand. Melody might even go with me, if Gemma wasn’t still holding her captive.

“I liked the flowers.” My voice was almost silent, but of course he heard it.

“Yeah?”

I didn’t answer him, just left him standing in his room in search of Melody and more alcohol.

“It’s one hundred percent considered literature. I agree with you.”

I was nodding my head at my own words as I smiled at Daisy Callahan. She was sitting across from me, also decked out in her pajamas which made me love her even more. Currently, we were discussing whether or not fanfiction should be considered literature, though it wasn’t much of an argument since we both agreed it did.

“I mean, look at how many fanfictions have been turned into huge adaptions. There’s Fifty Shades, which was originally Twilight fanfiction—”

Jeremiah cut Daisy off from his place in the soundbooth. “Are we really going to consider Fifty Shades a piece of literature though?”

“Actually,” Daisy started, turning to Jeremiah and giving him a smirk, “I wrote my thesis on a work that was considered fanfiction. Jean Rhys wrote her novel Wide Sargasso Sea in response to Jane Eyre, but from the perspective of Bertha, Rochester’s crazy first wife. I wrote about the racial difference between Rhys and Brontë and how that inspired the book. Got a nice master’s degree out of it.” Daisy shrugged happily when Jeremiah conceded, raising his hands as if to say fine, you win.

It was nice to be getting back into the swing of things. Harry’s party a few days ago had shaken me up. I hadn’t been expecting to run into one of the Styles siblings, let alone both of them. In all honesty, leaving when I had was probably the best decision I’d ever made in my life. If I had stayed, I would have downed every last beer bottle I could find and then did something regrettable, like actually forgive Harry Styles for all the shit he had put me through. Though I told Harry I was tired of being angry at him, it didn’t mean all that hatred just went away.

“There’s also the huge After phenomenon,” Daisy supplied as another example. I wanted to groan. Think of the devil and the devil shall appear. “Petra, do you still keep in touch with Harry? Do you know how he feels about the whole fanfiction thing?”

I blinked. “I, er, I’m not sure. I don’t really ask him about it.” I didn’t really talk to him at all, so it wasn’t surprising. “He doesn’t really seem like the type to mind it, I guess.”

“That’s exactly my point! Most celebrities feel flattered that audiences love them so much that they want to sit down and create a whole world for them...”

Daisy was off on her tangent again, and I knew I could sit back and relax. She’d been on the show before, which was why she was so confident and comfortable sitting in her pajamas. I also knew she talked a lot. Which was perfectly fine with me because my mind was still on how stupid I had been at the party. I shouldn’t have even stepped through the doors, and I should have left the second I found out it was his place.

Harry hadn’t tried to contact me since the party. Since it was only the week before, I hadn’t expected him to. But I was happy he seemed to be taking my words seriously. It would take time for me to stand being around him. Someone who had gotten in contact with me, however, was Gemma. She’d found me on Instagram and followed me. We’d been chatting back and forth about random and trivial things, never really bringing up her brother or the damage he’d done to me. Instead, she asked how work was going and if Veronica and Bailey were going to get engaged soon.

Daisy and I finished up our conversation and Jeremiah cut the sound. We both stood, our joints popping and creaking from sitting down in one position for so long. “That was fun, Petra.”

“Always nice having you back, Daisy.”

Jeremiah and Veronica were chatting in the booth, yet to open up the door. Which was why Daisy leaned over to me and whispered, “Hey, can I ask you a question?” Without waiting for me to respond, she continued. “Is Jeremiah seeing anyone?”

I blinked at her, surprised by what she was asking me. In the years I’d known Jeremiah, he’d only had one serious girlfriend. They lasted six months, but Jeremiah was gutted when she broke up with him. He had been telling me that he thought she was the one he was going to marry. That had been nearly two years ago. “Not that I know of. Why, you thinking about going for it?”

Daisy was a pretty girl. She had short hair cut to her shoulders, in a dark brown that nearly looked black. Right now she was wearing pajamas, but I’d seen her enough to know she was about my size, despite the fact that she towered over me by at least six inches. She’d always been kind to me. Given my track record with people, this was a big factor. “I dunno. We always have nice chats when I’m here. And he always walks me to my car. He’s sweet.” We both looked back at the booth, where Jeremiah was sitting. He was clicking away at something on the computer, looking like he was arguing with Veronica. “And damn, Petra, he’s fit as hell.”

A laugh escaped my throat, unbidden, and Daisy giggled along with me. I’d never considered Jeremiah fit, but I supposed subjectively, he was. I had always just known him as my friend Jeremiah, so there was never any attraction between us. “I think if you want to, you should go for it.” It would be nice to see Jeremiah get out of his shell a bit.

“Yeah?” When I nodded, she let out a breath. “Oh good. I thought there might have been something going on between you two.”

Wrinkling my nose in distaste, I shook my head. “He’s like an annoying older brother.”

Daisy laughed. “Well, I think I’m gonna ask for his number then. Maybe when he walks me out.”

Veronica left with a smile and a promise to see me later. Jeremiah, true to Daisy’s word, offered to walk her out to her car before Zach got here to pick him up. Which left me alone in Outset, sitting in the sound booth and getting a pad and paper. I would start listening to see if it all sounded good and jot down anything if I heard it.

My phone lit up with an Instagram message notification. I assumed it was Gemma, continuing on our conversation about Veronica and Bailey, so I picked it up absentmindedly and slid my finger across the notification to open it. When I looked down, however, I realized it was from a completely different Styles sibling.

I wanted to follow you on Instagram, but I figured I’d better ask you first.

I was trying really hard not to be mad at him, because I hadn’t lied when I said I was exhausted of it. But it was shit like this, him thinking that things were okay between us just because of one drunken lapse in judgement on my part by letting me know I liked the flowers, that made me mad.

Do whatever you want, Harry. I don’t care.

But I did care. I didn’t want him seeing my personal life. There were pictures of me at Comic-Con, pictures of me holding up a new book with the biggest grin on my face, and a video of me dancing around in an alien costume for my twenty-third birthday. Giving him access to that, to see me at my most vulnerable, was a mistake. When I glanced back down to my phone, I saw that he had read my message.

I waited for the notification that he followed me, but it never came.

#1dff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles ou #ac

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thanks--for--listening · 4 years ago

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resurrection

ok i know i still have other fics to write but i got mad at those so here’s a little warrior nun fic instead. consider this my formal request for a better wig for lilith in season 2. (also on ao3.)

Lilith had never cared much about her hair. For as long as she could remember, it held no importance to her or the people around her. When she joined the OCS, when she began to cover it, she’d felt no sense of loss, no internal conflict. She’d hardly paid it any attention — what did she care whether others could see it or not? Hair didn’t matter, appearances didn’t matter. Not as much as strength, intelligence, coordination. Not as much as duty. Not as much as a legacy.

Now she couldn’t stop staring at the mirror. Her reflection looked back at her, but all she saw was a stranger. She didn’t know this girl, with her grey hair and her coward’s eyes. She didn’t know this body, with a mind of its own and a history it refused to share. The person she used to see had died in that warehouse, and it’s replacement was second-rate. Undeserving of taking her place. Damaged beyond repair.

“Hey, Cruella DeVil, you done admiring yourself yet? Or do the rest of us have to find another bathroom in this godforsaken place?” Mary’s voice broke her train of thought, and Lilith watched in the mirror as she walked up behind her. Something inside her twisted at the sight, at how every part of her appearance remained familiar. Despite everything that had happened, everything she’d lost, Mary hadn’t let it change her. She’d been strong enough to hold onto consistency.

“Don’t say that,” she heard Camila say, before seeing her head pop into the reflection behind her other shoulder. The hotel rooms they’d managed to hide in after the battle didn’t leave much room for privacy, it would seem. That, or her roommates simply didn’t comprehend the concept, or care enough to respect it. “I think it looks beautiful.”

“Oh, it’s definitely badass. There’s no doubt about that. I’m just saying, put on a fur coat, adjust the colors a little...”

“Her hair is prettier than that silly cartoon’s. And you know, I think grey is in right now.” She ran her fingers through it, and it took everything Lilith had not to flinch at the touch. “Lots of people would spend hours in a salon to try and get that color.”

“Yeah, you’re a real trendsetter now,” Mary laughed, and Lilith wanted to laugh with them, wanted to give a snarky response, wanted to do anything the old her would have, but she couldn’t. That woman was dead. And no miracle or Halo could ever bring her back.

She saw rather than felt Mary’s hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” she said, her voice soft and serious in an instant. “What’s wrong?”

Lilith didn’t know why she was asking until she shifted her gaze, saw the tears slowly making their way down her own cheeks. She couldn’t find it in herself to care enough to wipe them away. “I don’t know who that is,” she whispered.

“You don’t know who who is?” Camila asked hesitantly. “Do you...see someone?”

Lilith shook her head. Words had never been her preferred method of self expression, but she searched for an explanation nonetheless. “I look in the mirror and I see myself, but it’s not me. Not really.”

“It doesn’t matter what your hair looks like. You are the same Lilith you have always been.”

“You and I both know that’s not true, Mary,” she whispered. “Something happened to me. Something’s...wrong. And I don’t know what it is. How to fix it. Whether it can even be fixed.”

No one spoke for a moment. Between running away and desperately searching for a place to regroup, they hadn’t found the time to discuss her recent resurrection, or any of the complications that came with it. Part of her wondered if she’d even still be here if they had. There were only so many times she could apologize to Ava for trying to kill her, and if she couldn’t trust herself, how could she possibly expect the others to do the same?

“Maybe,” Camila said, “it’s not supposed to be fixed.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you were supposed to be dead, but you’re not. Nobody’s ever come back the way you have. That has to be a good thing.”

“What part of this could possibly be considered good?” She snapped. “I don’t remember what happened to me. I keep losing moments, losing control. And when I do, I hurt people.”

“That’s not what it looked like to me when we were fighting Adriel.”

“That’s because you weren’t at the tomb. I attacked Ava. Fought against us. I almost ruined everything.”

Mary’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Did you?”

The memory of being restrained, held back, held together, echoed in her mind. “You know I did,” she said softly, shame creeping into her voice without her permission. “You were there.”

Mary shook her head. “No, I mean, we thought you were attacking us. But that’s because we thought Ava needed to get into the tomb. You were the only one who knew going in there was a bad idea. That it would put us all in danger.”

She tried to think back. She remembered fighting, but it was all blurry. Like she was watching herself from above. Like she wasn’t the one in control. The feeling hadn’t gone away until she’d felt Mary’s arms wrapped around her, her words an anchor bringing her back to the surface.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know why I did it. I don’t know how I knew. It was as if someone else was using my body — I was just along for the ride.”

“Was it like a voice in your head?”

“No. It was more like...a feeling. Like I was acting on instinct. Only, I don’t know whose instincts.”

“Well,” Mary said, “I don’t know about you, but the next time you get that feeling, I say we let it play out.”

“Yeah,” Camila said. “Everything we thought we knew was wrong. Maybe wherever you went is trying to help us. Maybe it sent you back because it knew we’d need you.”

“Need me? You can’t even trust me. I can’t even trust me.”

“Hey,” Mary grabbed her shoulders, turned her until they were face to face. “There is nothing you could do to make me not trust you. You are the most honorable person I know— I’d follow you anywhere.”

“I tried to pull the Halo out of Ava. And that was before the Tarask.”

“A brief lapse in judgement doesn’t erase what I know to be true. And that is that you will always try and do the right thing, even if it kills you. So if something hitched a ride with you on the way back from wherever that Tarask took you, maybe we oughta give it a chance.”

“You could be the key,” Camila said, and she couldn’t see her but she could hear the smile in her voice. “You could be what saves us all.”

“I just—“ she turned, stared at her reflection, waited for something to change. “I don’t see it.”

Camila gasped. “I know what you need!” She exclaimed, before turning around and running out the door.

Mary sighed. “I love that girl to death, but I’m one squeal away from sending her to Ava and Beatrice’s room.”

Her words almost dragged a smile onto her face, but the feeling didn’t last. “Mary,” she said quietly, “I know you want to believe that whatever happened to me is good.”

“We don’t know that it isn’t.”

Lilith just nodded. “If it isn’t, though, if...if I ever go too far, if I get too lost, I need you to promise me—“

“No, Lilith, I—“

“Promise me you’ll save them. Promise me you’ll stop me. No matter what it takes.”

Mary shook her head. “Find someone else to fulfil your death wish. I won’t do it.”

“I can’t ask anyone else. Camila’s too gentle to hurt a friend. Beatrice wouldn’t be able to live with herself afterwards. And Ava’s too important to have the others turn on her for doing what I told her. It has to be you, Mary.”

“What, and you think I’d be totally fine with killing you?”

“No, but--”

“How heartless do you think I am?”

The words hit her like a knife to the gut, the look she gave her twisting it until the pain was almost unbearable. Lilith forced herself to talk through it. “I’m not asking because I think you’re heartless. You’re the strongest person I know. I trust you more than I trust myself. I don’t want to ask you, but I also don’t want to hurt you. That’s why I need you to promise me you won’t let me.”

Mary hesitated. “There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”

Lilith nodded, forced herself to keep eye contact, to pretend like she still had the courage she used to. “The others believe in divine intervention; you and I both know whatever happened to me is more likely the other way around.”

“We don’t know anything yet, Lilith.”

“Please, Mary,” she begged, and she knew the tears had come back but again she let them be. “If I hurt you, if I hurt any of them, I—“

“Hey,” Mary pulled her closer and she let her, rested her head on her shoulder. With anyone else she would have run, would have had to fight through the discomfort, but Mary had a way of making her feel safe in a way no one else did. “I trust you, 100 percent. And I promise I’ll make sure you don’t hurt anyone if you ever lose control. But I’m not killing you, Lilith.”

“Mary—“

“I won’t need to. I’ve always been the better fighter, anyway. Possessed or not, I’m coming out on top.”

She scoffed. Leave it to Mary to turn her heartfelt moment of vulnerability into a contest, although she had to work to fight back the smile that threatened to make an appearance in spite of the tears. “Maybe I should have asked Beatrice — at least she’d have a chance at beating me. If she got lucky.”

“Oh, it’s like that, huh? You take a trip to the other side and forget about the ass kicking I gave you on the pier?”

“One fight doesn’t outweigh years of victories.”

“Yeah, if that’s what you need to tell yourself to sleep at night, go ahead.” Mary laughed, and Lilith wondered what she’d done to get so lucky, to have someone like her stick around after everything she’d done. She wasn’t sure she could ever do enough to deserve her.

“Got it!” They turned to find Camila running back into the room, scissors raised above her head.

“Oh, absolutely not.”

“It’s Girl Code 101, Mary! When something bad happens, you cut your hair.”

“That’s for getting rejected by your crush, not getting stabbed by a—“

“It’ll still work! Trust me, all the magazines say that when you need to make a fresh start, you have to change your appearance. And since the Tarask did the dye job for us…” she opened and closed the scissors a few times, and Lilith wondered if maybe she should be nervous.

“Yeah, no. I’m getting Beatrice.”

“Get Ava, too!” She called after Mary as she walked out the door. “She’ll agree with me!”

The door shut behind her. Lilith felt her absence like a weight, heavy and hard and impossible to ignore. She’d known Mary the longest, had grown to find every part of her familiar, but Camila was still a bit of an unknown. The only significant time they’d spent alone together had been at the lab; now, Camila crept up next to her, put the scissors down and reached for her hair with no hesitation. Lilith didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away, even when her mind begged her to run. Something kept her in place, something stronger than logic and habit. She couldn’t put a name to the feeling.

“I won’t do it if you don’t want me to,” Camila said as she collected all the stray strands of grey, “but I think maybe your problem is that you’re trying to look for the past in your reflection. You can try all you want, but the mirror can’t show you that. So maybe,” she folded her hair up so it looked like it hung just above her shoulders, “it’ll be easier to let go if you get to control what the present looks like instead.”

Lilith couldn’t look away. She knew it wasn’t real, not yet, but there was something about it that felt...better. She caught Camila’s eyes in the mirror. “How did you get so wise?”

Camila winked. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

They looked at each other, and Lilith thought maybe she’d underestimated her, had seen a smile and a shiny surface and failed to look deeper. She decided she wouldn’t make that mistake a second time.

“Okay,” she sighed. “Do it.”

She closed her eyes, felt Camila drop her hair down her back. She thought about everything that led her here. The life she’d had, the future she’d envisioned for herself. It felt so far away, so irrelevant in comparison to everything that had happened since she’d given her life for Ava’s. The Lilith who’d dreamed about that future didn’t exist anymore, but maybe that was okay. Maybe the one that replaced her would be better suited for the war that was sure to come. Maybe this, whatever it was, was her destiny after all.

She heard the cuts, heard the footsteps and gasps of the others right after. She kept her eyes shut for another second, tried to savor how light she suddenly felt, as if Camila had rid her of more than a few inches of hair. When she finally looked, she saw someone brand new. Someone free.

“It’s beautiful,” Beatrice said, and she watched the way Camila beamed at them through the mirror.

“I told you it would work!”

“What do you think, L?” Mary asked, and she didn’t look at the mirror, but stared straight at her. Lilith turned and stared right back, tried to communicate a million things she’d never have the words for.

“It’s nice.”

“It’ll be nicer once I clean up the edges,” Camila told her, and as they all began talking over one another, each making the case for why they should be the one to finish the transformation, Lilith let her eyes drift back toward the mirror. She watched the way they bickered, their words completely void of malice, their spirits somehow lifted despite the horrors they’d all seen. They let themselves find happiness in the quiet moments — maybe she could, too. She stopped trying to fight the smile, and found that letting it be felt more natural than stoicism ever had.

#warrior nun #i do be loving comments tho so if u wanna tell me what u think.....pls do #also im too indecisive about whether i ship anyone other than beatrice/ava or whether i just want them to be like sisters #which is why this is vague lol u could probably read a ship if u want idk #im just a sucker for some good found family #sister lilith #shotgun mary #sister camila #also new wig for lilith pls we need it #its so bad its just so so bad #but i love the idea of the grey hair #TFLAO3

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razberryyum · 5 years ago

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The Untamed and The Living Dead movie Thoughts

SPOILERS AHEAD!

If you haven’t watched the movie, it’s best not to proceed cuz you will be spoiled.

OR, if you have already watched the movie and love it completely, AND you stan Yu Bin and will not put up with any criticism about his performance, it’s also best not to proceed cuz you’ll most likely be annoyed/upset with me. Let’s just agree to disagree right now and move on with our separate happy lives.

Overall Rating for The Living Dead: 3 Lil Apples out of 10

Yeah, I know that’s pretty harsh…I waffled between 3, 4 and 5, but I had to settle on a 3 in the end because I don’t think I’ll ever rewatch this movie and there were just so many problems I had with it, that I realized I can’t say I liked the movie much at all.

Before I go on, let me first address the big white elephant in the room: no, WangXian does NOT cameo in The Living Dead nor are they even mentioned in any capacity that would assure us they are still together and happy in the movie’s timeline. At one point Wen Ning does mention them in the same sentence, but only in relationship to himself (that they saved him) and the past. For those of us desperate for confirmation of WangXian happily ever afterness in the world of CQL (“us” meaning me only most likely), we get no assurance whatsover. This is especially disappointing since the movie apparently take place years later after the events of The Untamed so it’s really sad that we have no idea if they are together. Of course in the world of the novel, we know they are absolutely together, happily married, everydaying everyday, but it would’ve been nice if we were given some tiny morsel of comfort for WangXian of The Untamed.

Not only does Lan Zhan not make an appearance, he’s only mentioned by Wen Ning once, as I indicated above. As for Wei Ying, he’s mentioned a few times and he kiiiiinda makes a cameo…but honestly, I wish they didn’t even attempt that cameo cuz it was so bad. It’s basically the backview of some extra dressed as Wei Ying and dubbed over by someone else that’s not Lu Zhixing-laoshi. Or if it is, the dub was so bad that it didn’t even sound like him anymore.

That’s actually one of my main problems with the movie: the dubbing or sound mixing just sucked. Every time there was dialogue it sounded very obviously that it was on a different track. I didn’t even feel like the characters were saying the words because their voices sounded detached from them. Whereas in The Untamed, I sometimes would completely forget that with the exception of Nie Huaisang, everyone’s line reads were performed by voice actor because the voices were blended so well within the scenes. I don’t know the technical terms of all this dubbing stuff so hopefully I’m making some sense.

Another big problem was the CGI. Holy crap was it bad. It was so bad at no point was I able to immerse myself into the action scenes…I didn’t feel anyone was in danger because they were being attacked by a bunch of obvious and bad CGI. One of the worse scenes that they showed THREE times was when the sister (Xiao Qing) being burned up in CGI flames. First of all her acting was horrendous (why was she covering her ears while she’s being burned alive??) and then the fake fire just made me groan out loud. I didn’t even want to look it was so embarrassingly bad.

I’m trying to figure out when they shot this movie…in order for them to be able to release the movie so soon after the show, the filming had to overlap with The Untamed’s filming, right? So I guess budget was still tight, probably even tighter than the main show, since CQL probably didn’t start actually seeing the money it made from ads, etc until towards the end. Either way, it feels like they didn’t put much money into this movie, especially not the effects. And if I’m going to be honest, I think they probably just had their second…nay…probably third unit direct it. Or at least, they had their third unit decide on some of the casting cuz some of the performances were…OOF. One thing I really appreciated about The Untamed is that even with most of the background actors, there was hardly a glaringly bad performance. I’ve said before the worse really was the actor who played Wen Ruohan, which is a shame cuz he’s more than an extra, but overall all the performances by the supporting characters ranged from decent to strong with hardly a weak link. Here, in this movie, I would say most of the performances from the new cast members were very mediocre. In fact, the only truly consistently good performances from beginning to end was Zheng Fanxing (Sizhui) and that cute little girl in the beginning:

I was kind of sad when she got killed off cuz she was adorable and definitely a MUCH better actor that the dude who played her older brother…at no point was I remotely convinced he was scared so on the other hand I was happy he died. But I thought she was going to burn to death or something because it didn’t seem like a good idea to have her hide in a wooden cupboard with a lite stove…that was so stupid and weird. Btw, what the hell was with that cat screeching sound effect?? Sounded like someone was throwing a cat, but like WHY?

As for the three new players introduced for this movie—Gao Han as Xiao Yi, Wang Yifei as Xiao Qing and He Longlong as Zhou Zishu—I’ve never seen their work before, and nothing about their performances in this movie makes me interested in what they will do in the future. To be fair, Gao Han tried…you can totally tell he was trying REALLY hard in some of his scenes, but for the most part, he either overacted or strangely enough, underacted. He was just really inconsistent. I know Zhou Zishu was supposed to be a red herring so the fact that he started out looking sketchy AF was supposed to be a ruse since our narrator was entirely untrustworthy, but even in the context of that false narration, he was really bad. As for the sister played by Wang Yifei…just look at her performance as she’s being burned up again.

By the way, I’m gonna say this now: if Wei Ying and Lan Zhan don’t even get to share a fucking real hug between them throughout the entirety of The Untamed, then I don’t think some generally unimportant-in-the-greater-scheme-of-things couple should be allowed to freaking KISS in anything related to the world of CQL.

I understand it’s all about the censorship, etc etc, but if any hetero couple deserved to share an onscreen kiss, it would’ve been Shijie and Jin Zixuan, and since even they were deprived of that, then these two nobodies should not have been granted this privilege. Seriously, fuck whoever decided to stick that moment in the movie. That’s just fucking unfair and really annoyed me. There better not be any more of that kind of nonsense in the Nie brothers‘ movie.

The last I’ll say about performances is that sadly, I felt as if there was something off about Yu Bin’s. I totally understand that this is a different Wen Ning than the one we saw in the show—he’s older, more mature, since God knows how many years have passed already—so I don’t mind that he’s more serious. But at the same time, he was just so uneven that I couldn’t get behind his performance at all. He was always one key off, if that makes any sense, so it almost felt like someone else was playing Wen Ning entirely, someone who is completely unfamiliar with that character. And his work in the…whatever fuck that place was…Yin Metal purgatory?? (and for those who are familiar with Guardian, that place was giving me bad flashbacks to Dixing)…was kind of cringey overall.

I wanted to love seeing Wen Ning be a badass wise uncle, so I actually feel really sad that I couldn’t enjoy his performance in general. However, what I absolutely did enjoy was seeing uncle and nephew bonding and working together…

…just wish those moments weren’t marred by all that bad CGI.

Wen Ning’s new look gave me pause though: not that I didn’t appreciate the whole metal look, but I kind of couldn’t figure out why Wen Ning added the chains back to his ensemble when he got rid of them back in The Untamed already.

I mean, if the black veins on his neck don’t attract attention, walking around wearing heavy, clangy chains sure would probably alarm people as well, I think.

Last thing on Wen Ning: again, not that I didn’t appreciate his newfound ability to hulk out, but yikes, that whole effect was ruined by yet again bad CGI AND a really goofy score. Sounded like something they “borrowed” from Naruto.

Except for that one piece of music, I did like the score for the rest of the movie, especially in the opening credits since it definitely evoked a sense of creepiness. The images in the credits were good too. I can easily imagine that being the OP creds to a horror anthology.

As for the story, I was fine with it. I liked that they related the family to Nightless City because apparently they are the ones who helped make Nightless City nightless? Here I thought it was the surrounding lava but I guess there were lanterns lighting the place up that I just somehow missed completely. I liked the plot twist with Xiao Yi and his “sister”…although I did guess there was some incesty thing going on in the beginning…just didn’t think I would be right and wrong at the same time. I thought they would relate their relationship back to Wen Ning and Wen Qing somehow, considering the sisters shared the same name…this was before the “incest” part was confirmed of course…but they never really did so having Wen Qing share the same name as Xiao Qing felt like an oddity in the end. It’s also odd how they used the same phonetically sounding last name of “Xiao” since of course I immediately thought of Xiao Zhan (different characters). Like, couldn’t they come up with completely different names? Overall, the plot wasn’t bad, as mysteries go, at first I couldn’t figure out why the Yin Metal all of a sudden had all these new powers and why the metal wielder, Zhou Zishu, would become a ghost puppet himself, but with the plot twist, all of that was explained so I was fine with it. The last shot of “Xiao Yi” in the Yin Metal purgatory made me guffaw; yeah, that didn’t look suggestive AT ALL.

The Living Dead actually makes me look forward even more to the next movie, The Fatal Journey. I’m hoping that since it’s potentially about the Nie brother’s past and Jin Guangyao, that perhaps there will be less need for CGI as it will focus more on just dialogue and story-telling. Not to mention, again, apologies to Yu Bin fans, but those three actors are generally stronger performers, so with them at the helm, I’m expecting/hoping for greater things.

Since I’ve been mostly negative, I wanted to leave on at least one positive note: Sizhui is still an adorable puppy. His dads, wherever they are, whatever they’re doing during the movie, must be so proud of him.

#The Untamed #陈情令 #CQL #The Living Dead movie #Wen Ning #Lan Sizhui #Mo Dao Zu Shi #魔道祖师 #WangXian

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twilightofthe · 5 years ago

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Padme?

Thanks!!! Ask from this ask meme!

How I feel about this character

Pads is a doll! She’s not on my top five characters list only because I really, REALLY love, my top five, but Padmé is def one of my faves in the franchise. She’s brilliant and assertive and brave and a little bit of a disaster who’s also good at being competent, and I love it. We actually get to see her be feminine and do soft, feminine things without being shamed for it by the narrative, which I ALSO love. I want her whole wardrobe and I’ve got the biggest aesthetic squish on her, she’s so pretty. She’s definitely got flaws, but she’s always just a joy to have on screen!

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Anakin is the big one, Sabé and her I really really love after Queen’s Shadow and have been meaning to write a oneshot for them at some point, I’ve been having a LOT of fun writing her and Satine, Obi Wan maybe? That’s complicated, I definitely like them as an OT3 with Anakin, It’s like. The thing for me with just Obidala is that I love them and their dynamic together, the way their personalities blend is fantastic, and they’re sure as hell nice to look at. The thing is, I waver back and forth on whether I can see it romantically because it always feels like there’s the ghost of Anakin in there between them, and the only way to get rid of it is in the depressing post-Vader fic, which I love, but sometimes just feels too sad for me. Obes and Pads are the only two who I haven’t quite figured out yet whether I want them to end up romantic or platonic at the end of Mutuals

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Also her and Sabé, but I LOVE the Padmé/Bail friendship a big whole lot, Ahsoka definitely has a lovely dynamic with her that’s always great, and Obi Wan again (rationale explained above)

My unpopular opinion about this character

Uhh, well, I’ve ranted before so I’ll spare y’all, but I really don’t like her TCW-created wardrobe, it’s bad xD

I don’t think she should have married Anakin just like that, that was definitely too fast for the both of them, they should have eased their way into things

Anakin was obviously the one in the wrong during the Clovis arc, but I don’t think Padmé behaved all that well in that arc either (then again I’ve watched it exactly once so I might be forgetting things)

She can be kinda overbearing sometimes?

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

That she got to live in the Republic and raise her children with her not-Dark husband and have a happily ever after ;_;

Ok but actually I would kill for any material that backs up what ROTS says about Obi Wan and Padmé, that these two have a friendship at least. We can see in ROTS that Obi Wan visits her on occasion, they talk comfortably with each other and on first name terms, he never left her side when she gave birth and comforted her as she died-- and like yeah ik he’s an angel who would do that for anyone, but this was noticeably personal. They are at least good friends who care about each other. And yet, AOTC hardly gives us anything and TCW gives us less? Like the few episodes that have Obi Wan and Padmé together in them it’s usually-- again, see where I struggle with their dynamic? --Anakin-centric or they’re with Bail or that one time they work together to clear Satine’s name. I don’t think they’ve had a real conversation of their own? But yeah, I wanna see Padmé and Obi Wan being friends

This is a fic I plan to write in the future actually, but I love the idea that Padmé goes to Corellia at some point during TCW and runs into baby street rat Han who tries to pickpocket her

Dancing with Anakin or teaching Ahsoka to dance. It would have been cute.

Padmé grabbing someone’s lightsaber in a fight (Maybe one of Ahsoka’s, tho Anakin’s would be great and Obi Wan’s would be fucking hilarious) and knowing how to use it because Anakin absolutely taught her the basics and it would be pretty and badass and then she’d have to figure out how to explain it away.

Pads and Ventress interaction!!! Idk, that just seems like it would be fun to me

Ik this probably won’t happen, but it would be angstily delicious if during the Order 66 period in the end of TCW S7, Ahsoka and Padmé end up on a brief comm call with both worried and asking about Anakin

That she wore a suit. I’m a simple soul. She’d look fuckin’ fantastic in one, and that is that.

#thank you for asking!!!#ask #asks #queen of my heart #Padme Amidala #nerdgatehobbit

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thewnchstrs · 5 years ago

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Riptide: Chapter 6

Pairing: JensenXdaughter!reader, DanneelXdaughter!reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Disclaimers: mentions of overdose

S E R I E S M A S T E R L I S T

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“Help! I need help!” I screamed, clutching Y/N as I burst through the emergency room doors, heads shooting up from all directions to look at me.

Almost instantly, two nurses rolled out a stretcher. I gently laid her on it, running to keep time with the nurses as they whisked her away. I watched closely as the first nurse checked Y/N’s pulse but gave no indication as to how slow it was. The nurse next to me began, shooting rapid fire questions at me as we ran.

What happened? What did she take? Do you know how much? How old is she? Do you know how much she weighs? Is she allergic to any kinds of medication?

They were all the questions I could hardly process, answering them only half listening to the nurse, my eyes focused solely on Y/N. Her ashen white face looking even paler against the white sheet on the stretcher. As I gripped her hand, all I knew to do was pray to any god that was out there to pull her through this.

At the end of a long hallway, a doctor stood outside of a pair of double doors, ushering in the two nurses but stepping in front of me as I tried to run in, too.

“You can’t be here, sir-“ she began but I continued to try to push past him.

“That’s my daughter!” I shouted back, watching hastily as they scrambled to save Y/N.

The doctor put a hand out in front of me, “And I’m going to go in there to help her, but I can’t do that if I’m out here trying to keep you out of the room, you understand me?” She said sternly.

I looked from the nurse and up to Y/N before slowly retreating, the doctor nodding once before running back into the room.

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By the time I made it back to the waiting room, Miles was there too. He jumped up out of his chair at the sight of me, “Is she alright?”

“They’re treating her now.” I said, lightly clapping his shoulder as I sat down in the chair next to his, unable to sit still as I already began to think about how long it would be until I would be able to see Y/N.

I watched Miles from the corner of my eye, thinking about all the times he’d been right at Y/N’s side when she was really in the thick of things. The one friend who hadn’t abandoned her.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Miles,” I said, thinking about Y/N in that car. Miles looked at me, “I wish you hadn’t seen her like that.”

Miles swallowed roughly as he looked down at his hands, “She means the world to me. If seeing her like that meant it saved her life because we got there in time, I would do it over again in a heartbeat.”

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We’d been sitting in the waiting room for close to an hour when Danneel, followed by Jared, burst through the doors, immediately spotting me from the other side of the room.

“How’s she doing?” Danneel asked as I pulled her in. I could feel her pounding heart against my chest. The question only made me grip Danneel tighter.

“No word yet.”

Danneel pulled away slightly, looking up at me, fear coating her face. It broke my heart to see her like this. I never thought we’d be here, at the same hospital Y/N was born at, hoping that it wouldn’t be the place where we’d lose her, too.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” I reassured, trying my hardest to believe my own words, “she’s a fighter. She’ll get through this...we’ll get through this.”

Jared clapped me on the shoulder before pulling me into a tight hug, “She’ll pull through, J.”

I nodded, trying my best to smile at him as we all sat together. Me, Danneel, Jared and Miles patiently waiting to see our girl again.

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Two excruciatingly long hours later was when Y/N’s doctor came into the waiting room, holding a clipboard on her arm. She didn’t even have to call us out before Danneel and I nearly ran to her, clutching each other as we did. We had to be prepared for anything.

“How is she?” I immediately asked, terror gripping at my insides.

The doctor smiled softly, “She’ll be okay.”

The words were enough to reduce Danneel and I to tears. A weight the size of the world feeling like it was suddenly lifted off of our shoulders.

“Your little girl’s a fighter,” she said, running a soothing had down Danneel’s arm, “would you like to see her?”

“Yes, yes of course,” I nodded as we followed the doctor who began to tell us what to expect.

“She’s resting right now. We had to give her antibiotics to flush the drug out of her system.”

None of that mattered at this point. Y/N was okay. She was going to live through this, that was all that either of us cared about.

“Right in here,” the doctor smiled, pulling the curtain back for us, “let me know if you need anything.”

Y/N laid in her hospital bed, sound asleep as if everything that’d happened before was just a dream. She looked so peaceful.

Danneel and I pulled up a chair next to either side of her bed, grabbing onto her warm hands. Just the feeling of them making me want to cry again. Danneel smiled, wiping a tear away as she pushed a strand of Y/N’s hair behind her ear. “My sweet, sweet girl.”

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*Y/N’s POV*

A soft voice was what pulled me from my sleep, lurching me out of the dark depths into a bursting, sunlit room.

I squinted, desperately trying to pry my eyes open when the soft voice came again. It was enough for me to come all the way back to reality.

“Hi, baby,” mom smiled, caressing my cheek, “everything’s okay now. You’re at the hospital.”

For an instant, I watched them, confused. I took in my surroundings, the IV in my arm, the hospital bed, the scratchy blankets, the beeping of the heart monitor behind me when suddenly, it seemed to hit me all at once.

I rested my head against the pillows, tears brimming my eyes at the thought of what I’d done, staring up at the ceiling, “I’m so sorry.”

“None of that matters right now, Y/N,” dad jumped in, holding my face so I would look into his eyes, “you’re alive. That’s all we care about, okay?”

“I was stupid,” I went on, tears coating the neckline of my hospital gown as I wept. Shame and embarrassment flooding me, “I should never have gone with him.”

“It’s in the past now, baby.” Mom said, her voice low and calm as she talked me down, “all you can do now is change where you go from here.”

I sniffed, squeezing each of their hands, “I’ll never do it again.” I said, shaking my head. “I promise.”

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“Look at you, stunner!” Miles smiled as came into the room, followed by Jared who were both smiling from ear to ear as Miles hugged me, holding on a little tighter than usual. When he pulled back he sat on the edge of the bed, “how’re you feeling?”

I shrugged slightly, smiling beside myself, “Getting better.”

“Hey, kiddo.” Jared smiled, hugging me too. “The kids wanted me to bring you this.” Jared pulled out a small teddy bear complete with a small bow tie around his neck.

I smiled softly, “Thank you.”

“You know,” mom began as she slowly inched her way toward the door, “I think your dad, uncle Jared and I are going to go get something to eat.” she said, giving dad the eye, telling him to follow her out of the room so Miles and I could be alone.

Dad sighed, eyeing Miles and I, “No funny business.”

Mom quickly shook her head before pulling him out the door, clicking it behind them.

“I’m sorry about them-” I began before Miles quickly cut me off.

“Don’t apologize,” he laughed, “your mom was able to do what I haven’t been able to for the seventeen years I’ve known you.”

I laughed, looking down at my hands when suddenly Miles grabbed hold of one, our fingers intertwining perfectly, like two puzzle pieces finally clicking together. My eyes flicked up to his, those dark brown eyes I was always unsure why I got lost in.

We sat in silence for a while, just watching each other as if it was the first time we’d ever met. I’d seen him countless times in my entire life, I wasn’t sure why this time was so different.

“Can...can I tell you something?” Miles asked as he gripped my hand a little tighter. I slowly nodded, watching as he tossed the words around in his head, “For the longest time, I knew there was something special about you. No matter how many girls I talked to or how many I went on dates with. There was always something in my gut that told me to always go back to who it all started with.” I swallowed roughly, my heart pounding as I listened, “I guess, what I’m trying to say, god- I don’t know-”

“Me too,” I said suddenly, knowing exactly how he felt, even if there were no words to describe it, “it’s always been you.”

Without thinking, and really, without much care, I leaned into him my lips pressed against his as we eased into it. Miles held my cheek as I held the back of his neck, It felt so natural, like we’d been together for decades.

As I pulled away, we could only smile at each other. There were no words to describe the bursting joy I felt inside.

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FOREVER TAG LIST

RIPTIDE TAG LIST

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niqhtlord01 · 5 years ago

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This one we weren’t honestly expecting folks; but when you’ve got a three story killer robot cloud monster, a girl who doesn’t believe in magic and yet can summon giant ethereal beings to fight for her with her sword, and an asshole AI that think’s it’s a real boy you tend to just go with the flow. On the outside our latest contestant comes off as a bare bones coward hiding behind countless ranks of loyal soldiers that would die for him, but on the inside he’s a badass motherfucker that he basically set off a nuke in the city he was in just so he could take out an entire enemy army that was invading. So please point your guns down and your hands together for General Doyle!!!! Doyle: *Walks in flanked by two guards* Felix: I’m going to enjoy this after what you put us through. Doyle: Are you mad?! You helped continue a civil war to wipe all of my people out! Felix: *Draws knife* Yeah, but you cost me a kick ass sword. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Nora: *Smashes through wall with hammer* Doyle: Young lady, we do have doors you know. Nora: I know, I just made one. Doyle: *Pulls out sticky detonator* Hmmm, she’s not wrong there. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Nemesis: *Nano-tech cloud forms Nemesis* Doyle: What on earth is that!?!?? Nemesis: Let-let-let-le-le-let the good times roll. Doyle: *Pulls out sticky detonator* They most certainly will not thank you! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Doyle: *Walks in flanked by two guards* Locus: We meet again general. Doyle: I would offer to pay you not to kill me, but I don’t think that’s an option. Locus: *Activates camo* Correct. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Doyle: *Walks in flanked by two guards* Pyrrha: I hear you were a great hero to your people. Doyle: Hardly. I died saving them from my own mistakes. Pyrrha: *Transforms rifle to spear* Giving your life for another is what heroes do. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Doyle: *Walks in flanked by two guards* Able: *In Gilbert and Sullivan tone* I heard you were quite the failure as a noble general, it is a shame your soldiers had to die oh so miserable. You had the sword to save your race but handed it over in such disgrace, I’d ask about your helmet but now I know why you hide your face. Doyle: *Looks at soldier behind him who started clapping along* Doyle: I honestly don’t know if I should be offended or not but I just can’t turn away. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Doyle: *Walks in flanked by two guards* Kaikaina: Is it true you nuked a city you were standing in just to kill the guys trying to kill you? Doyle: Well when you say it it sounds rather crazy, but all together I suppose that does sum it up nicely. Kaikaina: *Draws dual smgs* That’s hot. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Salem: *Grimm part to let her through* Doyle: My, what ......interesting pets you have. Salem: I would say the same of yours. Doyle: *Turns around at guards who are looking at him* Doyle: *Shrugs* ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Valentina: *Takes off camouflage cloak* Doyle: I say Locus, I never knew you were a woman under all that body armor. Valentina: I believe you have me confused with someone else. Doyle: *Draws sticky detonator* My apologies, I seem do say that with everyone who has camouflage. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Doyle: *Walks in flanked by two guards* Church: I still can not believe they put you in charge of an army. Doyle: While I can’t believe your team survived with you as their leader. Church: *Draws sniper rifle* Hey, we kicked your ass didn’t we? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Doyle: *Walks in flanked by two guards* Ozpin: I was hoping we could discuss this civilly. Doyle: Then you are gravely mistaken sir. Doyle: Though we both may be leaders of our people, only one of us used our soldiers as pawns; and that is something that I can not forgive. Ozpin: *Extends cane* They died for the greater good. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Julian: *Hologram appears* Doyle: Are you anything like the other AI’s? Julian: I’m not an AI. Doyle: *Draws sticky detonator* Ah, so you are then. Marvelous. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Doyle: *Walks in flanked by two guards* Dr. Grey: General. Doyle: Doctor. It’s..good to see you again. Dr. Grey: *Hugs Doyle* Likewise sir. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ironwood: *Walks in loading pistol* Doyle: *Nods* General. Ironwood: *Nods* General. Doyle: *Draws sticky detonator* Well then, shall we?

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my-proof-is-you · 5 years ago

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I Hate You, I Love You - Ch. 23

Summary: It had been over a year since you had hunted with the Winchester brothers. You had felt you couldn’t hide your feelings anymore, so you left. While you were gone, life had been anything but good. When you meet up with the brothers again, you can’t resist staying with them. But your feelings for Dean are far from gone, and you’re afraid the pattern will remain the same. Can you hide what happened to you last year from the boys, or will the past come back to haunt you?

WARNINGS: Rape/Non-Con, mentions of graphic violence, torture

**I do not own the gifs or pics

Masterlist

You

Before you even opened your eyes, you could feel the intense headache you had. Your mouth was dry and you felt nauseous. When you did open your eyes, you immediately panicked.

“What the hell?” You yelled, your voice gravelly. You tried to move but found your arms were shackled to the bed.

You looked to your right and saw him, sitting quietly in a chair and watching you.

“Dean, you better fucking let me go! I told you I didn’t want this!” You were so angry, you could actually hardly believe it. Sure, you were mad at him for giving up finding you, but you had never felt this kind of anger in your life.

“Y/N, this is for your own good. You don’t know what you’re saying,” Dean responded calmly.

You struggled for another moment before giving up. You weren’t getting out, and you knew it.

“Crowley’s gonna find me, you know. And he’s powerful. There’s no way he’s going to just let you get away with this.”

Dean said nothing, but took his phone out of his pocket and pushed a few buttons. After a few moments, a voicemail began to play.

“Hello, Squirrel. Obviously I’ve noticed that you’ve taken my toy. It’s a shame, really. It took such precise work to break her in little by little with that spell. Ah, well. It’s not worth the trouble to get her back. She’s not worth the trouble. So, no need to bother retaliating. Let’s just go back to our separate existences in which we avoid each other until we need something, eh? I reckon you’ll have your hands full with her for now anyway. Ciao.”

You sat flabbergasted at Crowley’s message. Not worth the trouble? You were sure that he had loved you. And what was the nonsense about a spell? Your love was real.

Tears slid silently down your face, and you turned it away from Dean. He stood up and walked to the door before stopping to look at you.

“I’m sorry you’re hurting. Just know, in a few days this will all be over.”

You tried to ignore him, but secretly you hoped it was true. You couldn’t stand the feeling of your heart being broken in two.

Dean

A few days had passed, and you no longer hated Dean. You didn’t particularly like him, either, but it was a sign that things were getting better.

The worst part was that coming off this spell was like going through withdrawal. You constantly had the shakes, you threw up anything you tired to eat or drink, had awful headaches, and you were miserable.

It broke Dean’s heart to see you like this. He often would sit behind you (despite your weak protests) and just hold you while the shakes overtook your body.

The best sign yet happened one night fairly late. Dean had been sitting with you and holding your hair back while you threw up into a bucket. You were exhausted, and it was all Dean could do to not carry you to his bed and keep you there with him.

“Dean,” you croaked out after a bout of vomiting.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Why are you doing all this for me? I’ve treated you like shit,” you said, wiping your mouth.

Dean smiled and let out a sigh, tucking a piece of stray hair behind your ear. “Because, Y/N, I love you. I didn’t get to tell you before Crowley took you, and I should have. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

Your eyes had the first sign of light in them that Dean had seen for days, and you smiled softly. “Seems like being loved by you is pretty great,” you said.

Dean felt his heart warm, and it was difficult for him to not lean over and kiss you. He knew you weren’t ready for that yet, though.

“Get some sleep, darlin’,” Dean said, standing up from the bed. He began to walk towards the hall and to his own room when you called for him.

“Dean,” you said. He stopped and turned to face you. “Can you stay with me tonight?” You looked shy as you asked it, and it made Dean chuckle.

“Of course.”

He got in bed next to you. He wasn’t sure how long it would be until your next bout of shaking or vomiting, but he was perfectly content to hold you for as long as he could.

Forevers:

@malfoysqueen14

@divadinag

@lynne1993

@awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce

@infj-slytherclaw

@onethirstyunicorn

@sammykb1994

Deanies:

@tftumblin

@deans-baby-momma

@akshi8278

@weepingwillowphoenix

@playingdeep17

This fic:

@heyyy-hey-babyyy

@mere-mortifer

@my-soul-is-the-moon

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #SPN #spn fanfic #spnfandom #SPNFamily #spn imagine #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester/reader #Sam Winchester #castiel #crowley #fanfic #fluff #angst

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forever-the-stars · 6 years ago

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Raven Deserves Better

I don’t expect too many people to read this, but this is getting ridiculous.

First of all, never have I ever imagined a world in which there would exist an anti raven reyes tag, but there is. And so with that being said, could I inquire as to why some people are being utter rebels and NOT USING IT? Raven Reyes has done nothing worthy of all this— except, of course, calling people out on all their bullshit.

But then again, I do agree with some points made— maybe the writers are running dry when it comes to Raven. Or maybe they’ve got a (non torturesome) storyline all prepped up for her. But whatever. She and spacekru are the best thing in this whole show (with Clarke being the worst of course.) I couldn’t stand her in season 1 and nearly quit the whole show overall. Even my whole family got tired of the show and why? ‘Cause of Clarke! I’ve read Raven being self-righteous and all, but have you SEEN Clarke? DO PEOPLE JUST IGNORE ALL CLARKE DOES? THIS BITCH ACTS LIKE SHE’S A FREAKING GOD! AND APPARENTLY MUST BELIEVE IT SINCE SHE’S THE ONE WITH HER HEAD UP HER ASS, NOT RRRRAAAAVVVVEEENNNN!

And when I say Raven deserves better, I’m saying the writers better come up with a fantastic storyline for her and some viewers (MOST APPARENTLY) need to realize just how amazing she is. I was proud of my girl when she started telling people off, which is no surprise— she’s done so before— and which is one of the reasons I ship braven. I still do even though the fact braven hardly interacts and bellarke is everywhere. And I mean EVERYWHERE. I’ve blocked the bellarke tag, but there are some posts that just want to creep into my page.

Braven could have been amazing. Two friends that trust and sacrifice everything for each other. They’ve both lost people in their lives. They believe in each other, especially Bellamy when it comes to Raven, and he doesn’t hesitate to let everyone know. And come on, Bellamy and Raven literally have known each other for years! More than Clarke and Bellamy. Raven has never lied to Bellamy before, except for that time when she wanted him to reunite with his sister— which is such a crime, right? Clarke, however, lied to Bellamy when it came to his sister. . . someone that was incredibly important to him. She’s manipulative and she doesn’t even seem to notice. She always thinks she’s in the right and I just hate that she does something and immediately regrets it afterwards, saying that she wished she could take it back, but she just can’t.

Boo-hoo, princess.

And when Raven said that she hasn’t done anything bad to survive, everyone went after her head.

There’s a difference between Clarke and Raven, I’m telling you.

Raven’s straightforward and she doesn’t do things half-assed. My girl doesn’t regret what she’s done ‘cause she knows it was all for the best. . . for the people she cares about. She’s not about to regret it. Besides, she’s got some of the cleaner hands on this show. Clarke’s all about genocides, man. And for all I know, Raven isn’t hypocritical. She just tells things like it is, especially when she told Clarke, “You say you’re sorry and then you do it again!” (or something along those lines). That just shows how flighty Clarke is. Raven isn’t flighty. Maybe that’s why so many people are hating on her now. One more reason to find Raven the goddess of this show and Clarke. . . well, she’s always down in the dumps and should be in a dump.

Anyway, Braven would have been amazing together. But before that romantic relationship, I would have loved for Bellamy and Raven actually co-leading. We were robbed, my dudes, robbed. Raven deserved better. And she actually fell in love with a guy she hardly knew, pouring her heart out to him, which I didn’t find all that believable. Season 5 wasn’t the best for Raven. All she got was pain. Not fair. And then she lost the dude. I’m starting to ship Raven x motorcycle now. It’s probably one of the things she actually wants right now.

But then again, I ship Raven with everyone. And by everyone I just mean spacekru. They have the healthiest relationship in the whole damn show. But Braven seems like a faraway dream, especially with Becho, but I’m not complaining about Becho. My boy Bellamy found someone amazing, smart, stealthy, basically a badass. Now that’s a guy that knows what he deserves, not an entitled princess that isn’t reliable in the slightest. She might be laughing with you now, but hey, watch out. . . she might betray you to save her ass. But don’t worry, she’ll be back and begging for forgiveness again.

Which is why Bellarke is terrible. Forgiveness is given ALL THE DAMN TIME! How is that good? That just means that she’s wronged OVER AND OVER AGAIN. And she still has the audacity to keep asking for it. I don’t know about you, but sorry eventually gets old and loses its value. I’ve known people that told me sorry nearly all the time ‘cause they’ve wronged me (I’m not about to rant on that ‘cause, you know, I don’t want to remember them anymore) and I just got fed up and cut them outta my life. Sorry DOES lose its value when you say it all the time. Sorry is supposed to have you reflect on your choices and not have you make the same mistakes. Which Clarke does. I still don’t get how she’s a favorite. Or how Bellarke is so amazing. There’s nothing amazing to it. It’s all toxic and NOT because of Bellamy.

But again Raven deserves better than a fandom that refuses to pull their own heads outta their asses.

Raven x happiness needs to come true sometime.

Although I’d also love for it to happen while she’s with Murphy as well, but he seems to still be in love with Emori, so that might just not happen. Which is a shame. Murven’s got amazing chemistry and one of the best, if not THE best, developments in The 100. They’ve gone from shooting— and trying to shoot, in Raven’s case— to wonderful snarky banter. They literally protect each other. They come from freaking similar backgrounds. Who else can relate to each other just as well? They’re a family and they don’t sell each other out. And they can joke around with each other. There needs to be more humor, more playing, with spacekru, I need it. It’s like them regaining the childhood they literally missed out on. I love seeing them smile and laugh. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Raven’s got this really adorable smile when she looks at Murphy or when they’re just talking OR JUST PLAYING OR CONTINUING THEIR BANTER. IT’S REALLY BEAUTIFUL.

And a difference with Murphy and Clarke, something that just downright pissed me off, is that Murphy actually feels bad when he does something that hurts others, especially his family (which Clarke doesn’t belong in). He has actually said sorry and MEANT it. Murphy hasn’t had as many chances as Clarke has, despite popular belief. Murphy actually is a better person than Clarke, but she still thinks she’s on morally higher ground when compared to Murphy for some damn reason.

So, in conclusion, Raven Reyes deserves the world. She deserves her happiness, whether it be her finding it in herself or slowing finding it in herself with the help of someone else, she just deserves it. And something else she deserves. . . people to realize how amazing she is. She’s saved everyone more times than Clarke has. This girl just pushes levers, orders people to do what she tells them to. Raven or Bellamy or Raven and Bellamy should be the leaders rather than Clarke. Bellamy’s not even a leader. He’s more like a follower now. And I don’t like it one bit. He doesn’t need Clarke at all. I don’t see how he needs her.

#pro raven reyes #stop disrespecting her!#anti clarke griffin #pro spacekru #raven reyes #learn how tags work people!#first post and i think i got the hang of this already #braven #murven #anti bellarke #spacekru

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alrightsnaps · 5 years ago

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Your dislike for Clarke is inspiring. I haven't watched the show since season 3 I think, but I stopped liking her in season 1, so yah. Raven deserved lead.

Raven had the potential to become the sci-fi female lead.

An impoverished girl that grew up with an alcoholic, neglectful mother and managed to grow into a strong yet kindhearted woman? A downright genius latina mechanic that inspires admiration and respect and saves the day time after time? A disabled woman with chronic pain that simply does not know the meaning of the word give up, because she's a survivor that will always fight for her life no matter what?

She'd be fucking iconic!

Raven is simply too good to be true, and these idiotic writers reduce her to a side character they only remember when someone has to save everyone's asses, torture porn (which is absolutely disgusting) or shoving her with the next insignificant dude that joins the show as a love interest.

But it's not just that Clarke doesn't hold a candle next to Raven of course– though she sure as hell does not. I could handle a character I dislike, we all have one or two of those in every show. It's her sidelining every other character, constantly putting everyone (including Raven and Bellamy that are my favourites) in danger and betraying her people, constantly whining about how she never asked for power yet repeatedly stepping forward as a self-proclaimed leader (and fucking everything up once again) and never ever facing any consequences for her actions.

If you can believe it, I started watching the show more than biased in favour of Clarke. In favour of Bellarke. In favour of Clexa. (you know how hyped up all these are on social media!). As far as I knew when I decided to give the show a shot, it was a surprisingly good teen drama (that many compared to got.... I'm still laughing about that bit) with a badass bisexual lead character. What's not to like?

Needless to say that's....not how I found Clarke. Or the show. By season 3, her arrogance, insufferable entitlement and hypocrisy is so in-your-face I could hardly stand her. (Season 6 is downright comical in that sense, with the writers coming up with a melodramatic martyresque Clarke centred plot to make her come out as the victim, when in last season's finale she sent Raven to get tortured and Bellamy to die in a fighting pit. The lengths to which they'll go to avoid her actually facing the consequences of her actions never cease to amaze me.)

I guess it has to do in big part with how cw shows are in general– no in depth characters that merely serve as puppets to move an action filled plot forward, and zero logical consequence. The 100 feels like watching a Walmart version of the mess that were seasons 7+8 of GoT on a loop. A constant tell-not-show narattive– we'll tell you who's the good guy and who’s the villain, even though our labels don't make much sense as far as the characters’ actions and motivations are concerned.

For example, D&D decide that Dany is the bad guy and start hinting it since season 7, even though her actual actions up to 8x04 directly contradict it. So she's made out to look like an arrogant bitch for not giving some random guy free pass to her resources or agreeing to help him fight some fairytale ice zombies the moment she sees him, her killing enemies in battle after they brutally wipe out her allies is interpreted as some Mad Queen foreshadowing, her not giving North an independence they have no armies to fight for or the skills to negotiate for, is proof that she'll become a tyrant and so on.

And of course the double standards– Dany is mad and too eager to use violence for not mourning her lifelong abuser, killing rapists and crucifying slave masters after they did the same to literal kids, but Sansa and Arya are kweens for smiling after feeding her rapist to his dogs and massacring a room full of people and baking actual human beings into pies respectively. Daenerys shows the signs of a tyrant for executing the men that betrayed their liege lord and butchered their entire House after actually giving them a choice, but Robb barely an imperfect leader for doing the same to Rickard Karstark, without giving him much of a say in the matter either. (The list could go on forever.)

In the same way in the 100 (or in reverse I guess?) Clarke is supposed to be some heroic leader, even though she lets one of her own get executed for a war crime without even demanding (or at least trying to negotiate) that the same price is paid by the opposing side when it comes to their war criminals (especially since this was a war started by the grounders against a group of defenceless teenage refugees in the first place) all to achieve a fragile alliance (btw I'll never forgive the 100 for making me care for Finn McPlainface, whose scenes I could barely watch without falling asleep, but good god, was his death poorly handled. Are these writers ignorant in politics or plain stupid?). After they are betrayed by their ‘allies’ she abandons her people at a crucial time and then.....jumps into bed with the woman that forced her to kill her boyfriend, left them all to die and had her kidnapped (thanks for the quality sapphic rep cw– I hate it). She falls madly in love with her in the span of five days, immediately reclaiming her role as a leader without even asking the actual people she's supposed to lead (and that's just the first three seasons!).

But a hero and a leader she is.

Then there's, once again, the horrifically obvious double standards. How is it possible to blatantly judge your characters based on different standards even within the same season? Clarke can blow up 250+ of her own people to save her ass and nobody even learns about it, much less have her pay the price for her choice. She can literally get into bed with the enemy while insisting on playing leader without asking anyone, and there are no reprecussions whatsoever. But Bellamy’s s03 massacre of an army of people that had repeatedly chased, tortured, killed, threatened and attempted to massacre them repeatedly (and were once again doing that at the time of Bellamy’s actions), will be brought up again and again and again in future seasons because it makes him a Dark Character Beyond Redemption, which the audience isn't allowed to forget.

Or Pike– a refugee that witnessed countless of his own people persecuted and violently murdered by the locals from the moment he stepped foot on the ground is straight up portrayed as shady for distrusting them (never mind Sky people were once again threatened with a massacre at the time). He was literally paralleled to Trump by this hellish fandom (while mass murderer Lexa is supposed to be some Flower Power Badass Queen I guess) and shoved a shitty trope of the xenophobic entitled colonizer, straight up ignoring the show's context (how anyone could make the Skaikru/colonizers and grounders/Native Americans parallels with no shame is beyond me, but apparently some people have difficulty differentiating between colonizers and refugees, as if the two are even remotely close). I'm not excusing anything he did afterwards of course–he clearly went off the rails. My problem is the show portraying him straight up as the Bad Guy for holding actual democratic elections, while the privileged non elected elite that led them to the Mount Weather mess were supposed to be the Good ones. Much like Dany was the Tyranical Dragon Queen from the moment she set foot in Winterfell, because Sansa had prophetic abilities and could predict the clusterfuck of 8x05 I guess!

At the end of the day, I was a fool to trust any recommendations and take a cw show seriously.. if it weren't for Bellamy and Raven I'd be out of this mess loooooooong ago! I'll hardly last this season really, not when every episode is dedicated to praising Princess Clarke Griffin, Bellamy having turned into her hypnotised lapdog with no personality of his own, and her stans constantly attacking Raven for not kissing her ass and *daring* to hold her responsible for her actions.

#this is a looooooooong answer #but this show frustratea me and I needed to unwind! sorry #♥️#clarke griffin

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whatwashernameagain · 6 years ago

Text

Keep him safe - Chapter 24

You can read the previous Chapters here: Ch 1, Ch 5, Ch 10, Ch 15, Ch 20, Previous Chapter, Ao3 Link, Lo’s, Pat’s and Virgil’s aesthetics, Fantasy AU You are Magical, I’m dying to be with you

Pairings: Logan/Patton, Roman/Virgil

Words: 11.695

Warnings: mentioned violence, abusive relationship, emotional abuse, panic attack, references to prostitution

Summary: Detective Logan Sanders and his best friend and dorky partner Roman Prince have made a dear friend in the lovely pattisier Patton. Logan however feels a lot more than friendship for the sweet man, even though he knows he cannot possibly have him. Their routine is broken abruptly when Logan finds bruises on Patton’s fair skin and slender wrists he could hardly have received from his costumary clumsiness. Meanwhile his partner Roman has his own demon to fight, which comes in the form of a little delinquent who seemed to have been pulled into a street gang quite against his will. Roman is determined to help the strange young man. It would be so much easier though if he just stopped hissing at him!

Notes: This chapter follows the one-shot ‘mine to protect’ which you can find here. Also, this chapter is gay. Very gay. Lot’s of caring and talking. A cameo of one of my favorite humans and Patton makes a friend that gives him a helpful perspective. And I added pictures as an example.

Chapter 24

Waking up this morning with the aftereffects of crying until you had no tears left was not fun. The slight residue of a tension headache, as well as a really parched throat greeted Virgil. Groaning, he rolled over, only to realize that the sun was up high. Shooting up with a curse, he dislodged Cat, who howled in shock and rolled right off the bed with a dull thud. Darn, that raccoon had grown round quickly.

Blindly pawing at the blankets Logan had heaped on top of him, Virgil came across a piece of paper. Scanning it with sleepy eyes, he couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. Fucking mother-hen of a detective!

Logan and Patton had apparently ganged up on him by giving him the day off, turning off his alarm and abandoning him to Roman’s idea of a relaxing day. Running his hands through his tangled locks, the young man wished he could just – not be here, or at least hide under the covers all day and wallow in his guilt. The sudden stab of pain under his ribcage, the flash of helplessness, of misery and terror, helped him understand just why Logan had chosen to torture him with Roman’s attention. If he stayed in here and marinated in the memory of Remy standing before him, taking charge to protect him, almost dying under his friend’s hands, the fear he’s felt, the realization that his life, the violence he’d grown used to, that had seeped under his skin along with the constant coldness, would follow him everywhere – it would eat him up and send him right into a proper panic attack and that would not be pretty for anyone. With a sigh that made his chest flare with discomfort as if his ribs were newly broken, he got up to see what the moron had in store for him. He was sure to hate it.

“You can’t be serious, man!” Virgil screeched. His voice was higher than usual and his hands were itching to curl into claws. His old fight or flight instinct told him to kick Roman in the shins and run. Preferably screaming at the top of his lungs. Unfortunately, Rosa had come along too and she was sure to just catch him and throw him over her shoulder. He absolutely believed she could.

Talking of Rosa Diaz… Virgil turned wide, disbelieving eyes on her. “Why are you here? This doesn’t sound like a place you’d be found dead in.”

The Latina gave him an unimpressed look, raising a single eyebrow. “There’s nothing wrong with getting pampered. We deserve it.” She answered, voice monotone and unembarrassed. “Also, this place is magical.”

It sure looked like it. And gay. It looked really gay. Virgil wasn’t gay enough for this place. He tried to make a run for it.

“No.” Rosa said simply, grabbing him by the arm.

Virgil had faced down men twice his size armed with knives and worse, had climbed into stranger’s cars when he’d hardly been an adult and had gotten on his knees in dirty alleys out of necessity. He’d grown hard and lean and tough as leather and hissed in the face of adversity, but Roman had to coax him across the threshold of Hairstory Studio like a terrified kitten. The whole place was huge and bright and covered in black and white Polaroid pictures to create a comfortable retro look and it looked expensive. A dirty street rat like him did not belong in here! Roman, with his tall build, his confident posture, his perfect skin and dazzling smile was right at home here. Virgil was a creature of the shadows and was not supposed to put a toe of his scruffy trainers into this place. They’d sneer at him and scoff at his clothes, his hunched shoulders, his – everything.

“It’s alright, Virgil.” Roman crooned at him. His green eyes were very warm, as were his hands as they enveloped his thin, pale ones. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I know this is not the kind of place you usually frequent-”

“Because I don’t belong here!” Virgil hissed frantically. The detective’s eyes saddened.

“I can see that you feel – unsure about this idea, but I promise I shall be there for you every step of the way to aid and support you. I only want to show you a different part of this city, and perhaps help you find a different side of yourself. Not that you need it! To me, you are utterly perfect in every way, but I wish you’d be able to enjoy yourself a little more.”

Fuck him. Fuck him and his earnest desire to help. Fuck his big, gentle hands and his caring expression and hopeful eyes.

“Roman, this is nice and everything, I guess. But I don’t- I have no business being here, I can’t begin to pay for that sort of shit and I don’t want you paying for me!” He added hastily. He hated accepting charity. The fact that Logan wouldn’t budge on the rent money Virgil tried to pay him already made him itchy. He claimed it would be illogical, since he didn’t pay any rent either and he wanted Virgil to save the money for himself. It would be the ‘fiscally responsible thing to do’. Fuck him too.

Fucking Roman fucking Prince was very good at persuading him with his puppy dog eyes though, pretending to want this for himself and to want Virgil there for his enjoyment and looking so fucking sad when he tried to bolt… fuck him.

Somehow he ended up entering this ridiculously clean studio to have a – a spa day. Ugh. The worst thing was that he saw the necessity. Kind of. Roman’s hair had been growing much like an untrimmed garden those last few months and it had become longer than he’d ever worn it before, falling into his eyes constantly and almost brushing his broad shoulders. It needed to go. Similarly, Virgil’s hair, which had never been as well kept and tended to as Roman’s, had grown long and annoying. He kept blowing it out of his face and getting tangles into it. Tangles which bothered Logan so much that he kept running his fingers through the locks to fix them with obsessive neatness. The nerd. The worst was the color though. The raven roots had grown in several centimeters and the purple had grown pale from washing. Even Virgil had to admit that it needed a trim, though he would have just bought a package of dye in the supermarket and some scissors. This was a place he wouldn’t have entered in a million years. Especially if he’d known he’d get assaulted by a long-haired, very gay man.

“Oh my god, Roman is that you, hun? You’re like, the most gorgeous thing I’ve seen today and YOU BROUGHT ROSA OH.M.G I’m so happy you’re like, in my humble shop to be a badass fabulous goddess, c’mere, I wanna smooch you!” The brunette cried, hugging and kissing them both as soon as they’d rounded the corner. He was perhaps the gayest man Virgil had ever seen, with his brunette hair that was straight as silk and the heels he was basically floating in. Aaaaand he’s spotted Virgil.

“Gasp, who is this lovely little angel? I can’t even tell you how much I’m in love with you right now!” Before the young man could attempt to get away, the other was all over him, messing up his hair and tilting his face up. He froze, wide eyed.

“Nooo, Look at you adorable doll, like a little baby-guinea pig with anxiety. He’s so scared!” He even mimicked a nibbling rodent. Rude! Then he smiled at Virgil.

Ugh, it was the sweetest, most genuine look. Like he really, actually liked the young man right away. Virgil glared.

The man squealed.

Hopping up and down, he giggled about Virgil’s adorableness before pulling him in fearlessly to give him the – admittedly – most unwelcome and yet sweetest hug ever.

“Come into Jonathan’s arms, honey!” He chirped. Virgil felt loved. Reluctantly.

“Told you, he’s magical.” Rosa muttered contently.

A screech right next to his ear made the young man flinch and itch for a knife. Too high! These gays were too loud, too high! The young man yearned for the protection of his hoodie. Unfortunately it was currently weighted down by… oh. He’d gotten so used to carrying the fat and ill mannered raccoon around in his hoodie, looking like a voluminous fur filling, that he’d completely forgotten it was there. In a very tidy, very expensive saloon. He’d known he shouldn’t be here, they’d get Roman kicked out of his favorite place and he couldn’t live with the shame of ruining this for him. He already felt the uncomfortable heat rise under the thick fabric.

Jonathan wasn’t deterred though. What was is about fabulously gay men and that trash panda?

“Oh my god THAT’S a raccoon!!! This is like the greatest day ever I’m gonna swoon, catch me, Roman! Oh my god can I hold hercanIholdher AHHHHH SHE LICKED MY HAND OH MY GOD THIS IS LIKE THE GREATEST THING THAT’S LIKE EVER HAPPENEDEVER!!!”

Cat was the talk of the town. She got pulled from his hoodie, handed around, brushed and kissed and bathed in the shiny sink while the others were herded to the comfortable chairs to get their hair cut. Instead of hissing and biting, the contrary beast slubbered around the bubbles and purred loudly while delighted hairdressers massaged her. Jonathan was lost for about twenty minutes, cutting fur into shapes, drying said fur in stylish ways and then posing for selfies with the diva-beast.

“Yeees, work that camera, bitch! Oh yes, you’re a heart-breaker, gimme stripes, gimme claws, gimme sharp teeth and pitch black eye-shadow – yes, yes, yes!” He chanted, making kissy faces at the glossy, poofed up animal. By the time he finally found time to attack Virgil’s messy locks, the former gang member had grown lightheaded with laughter. His face was hurting and he felt giddy and completely unlike his usual self. Jonathan seemed determined to carry his bright and cheerful feelings over into his looks as he pulled and brushed his hair enthusiastically, keeping up a stream of chatter.

“Shut up, I’m obsessed with you, your hair is gorgeous! You’re gorgeous, stop stealing my heart!” Soon, Virgil was helplessly laughing at the outrageous compliments, spurring the other on even more, judging by the happy glow in his eyes.

“Oh you’re so small and feisty, like a bitey little raccoon - striped and, like, giving me I’m sharp toothed-I’m gorgeous and I know it-Imma scratch you-back off vibes - complete and utter perfection!”

And admittedly, he even did a great job. His hair was softer than he’d ever felt it before, bright and unapologetically purple. Short in the back with just the right length to fall over his eyes and let him hide when he needed it. Virgil couldn’t stop running his fingers through the downy softness. It complimented his pale complexion and made his skin look elegant instead of unhealthy and pasty. Amazingly, as he settled onto a comfy sofa to wait for Roman, he felt just a tiny bit… beautiful. This gay hairdresser really was magic. As he finally got Cat back however, he found they’d dyed a shiny golden spot into the fur at the tip of her tail and they were going to have words about that! Once Cat stopped vibrating in his lap. She wasn’t even hiding under his hoodie.

The last of his tension from being touched by strangers melted from his shoulders as he petted Cat’s fur (soft instead of shaggy and perpetually stick from stolen baking) and observed Roman in his natural element. He obviously loved being taken care of and made pretty. The flirting of those two was outrageous.

“Roman, baby, honey, those shoulders! You’re like, a real, actual prince and I wanna marry you, take me now, I’m yours you big, strong officer of the law. Such a hero! Look at you, busy saving the world, stealing hearts, like.a.boss. Like fricking Christ Hemsworth with all of that gorgeous hair Oh my god!”

“Dearest Jonathan, your professions humble and delight me beyond words. Especially since you grow fairer every day, I would die for you my lovely damsel! I’d defeat a dragon and pick the stars to be allowed to gaze upon your flamboyantly perfect hair and your make-up – simply radiant! What is your lip-gloss called?! I must have it!”

Jonathan blushed, giggling adorably. They were sickeningly cute.

While they flirted, the long-haired man made his magic happen. Pulling the too long locks this way and that contemplatively, he suddenly pulled out a razor. The cold dread that flooded Virgil was quite the surprise. He couldn’t shave off all of that gorgeous hair though! The caramel mane, shiny and thick and perfect, featured in all of Virgil’s most secret and more than a little terrifying thoughts. Rosa laughed at him as she felt him tense.

The young barista started biting his nails miserably as Roman obediently tilted his head forward and the hair started tumbling to the ground. As it turned out, not all of it though. The chatty hairdresser pulled off a stylish undercut of downy, soft hair that left a mop of large, shiny curls on top of Roman’s head that fell into his face just right and could be combed to the side to look like his head was full of pretty curls.

“And when you go like, chasing the bad guys and fight like batman you just go – wooop! And pull it all up to make this sexy, super cute bun and make all the guys and gals and everyone else fall for you.like.a.model! Gorgeous. Get out of here, you’re perfect!” Jonathan explained, halting his grooming briefly to snap his fingers sassily. Cat snapped her jaws to mimic the motions. Oh dear.

And fuck, he was right. It was a sexy bun. The hairdo brought out his perfect cheekbones and highlighted the shape of his face and was just a little bit punk and wild and Virgil found it insolently, impossibly hot. Roman’s bright grin and shining eyes made him look more handsome than he had any right to and the way he squealed with his friend… Virgil felt warmth pool deep inside him, deeper than the heat Roman’s beauty awoke in him. This wasn’t fair! Just as he’d thought he’d gotten used to Roman’s impossible brand of attractiveness, he went all punk-hipster on him and made him loose all control over his thoughts. The worst was that he’d challenged him to come to this place he’d thought he’d be thrown out with insults on his heels and he’d actually had fun. He’d been accepted even with his scruffy clothes and washed out dye and the fat, mean raccoon queen. He’d learned something new and experienced something wonderful and it was all due to Roman. He helped him out of his shell and pulled him kicking and screaming into the light with him, where things were warm and glittery and beautiful. Roman shared this beauty he radiated to selflessly, so joyfully and kindly. He gave him a place in a world Virgil had believed he’d lost the right to more and more with every ugly, disgusting and painful deed he’d done.

As the detective twirled in front of them, happy and confident and demanding praise and attention, slowly, a realization settled in. The detectives were here because they wanted to be. Victor was locked away, they didn’t need to protect him any longer. It was over. He was free to start a new life. A life where Roman grabbed his hand and complimented his dazzling hair and Cat’s delightful golden fur and where he got pulled along to get his bitten nails and Cat’s claws manicured and where he only had to fight the care and love to keep up appearances of his threatening persona because he wanted to instead of the need to survive. A life in the sun.

*************

Logan was starting to understand Virgil’s dislike for hospitals as he made his way through the brightly lit corridors. The smell of antiseptic spray was more prominent than even he could comfortably handle and the neon lights above droned on in an irritating, low hum. He already missed the warm sunlight.

Bringing his little delinquent here was definitely out of the question. Considering how protective Remy had been of the young man, Logan assumed he would not have taken kindly to a visit either. No, it was best to let the therapist rest and allow Roman to look after their young one until Remy was ready to see him in a less stressful atmosphere. There was no reason for Logan not to finally pay his old friend the visit that had been long overdue though. He only wished he weren’t this nervous about it. Of course, there was no logical reason to be anxious, since it could hardly go as baldy as his attempt the day before where he’d found his friend bleeding on the floor. He would simple extend his best wishes, deliver his present as was dictated by social rules and engage in the expected length of small-talk for approximately 15 minutes.

Oh Tesla, what was he supposed to talk about for such a long time?! Considering the relativity of the perception of time in uncomfortable situations, a quarter of an hour could metaphorically feel like a lifetime and it had been so long since they’d last talked. Logan had no idea whether he still knew his friend well enough to have anything to talk about, he wasn’t even the same gender as last time and what if he didn’t like his gift? He couldn’t insult him after he got shot while taking care of his Virgil! He hadn’t felt this awkward since the first few weeks of working with Roman. Would it be cowardly to hope the other was asleep when he arrived?

Unfortunately, Remy had no intention of depriving Logan of the joy of finally spending time with him and giving him all the attention he had definitely not missed, no ma’am!

“Logan! Get the f- in here! You, like, never visit me in here, I don’t even know why I try!” He howled before the detective had even finished knocking.

“You have only been here for a total of 26 hours.” Logan informed him stiffly as he slipped through the door.

“Um, Ye-es! And how many of those has my adoring sidekick spent, like, weeping at my bedside – not that I care or whatever!” Remy complained, crossing his wobbly arms with a lot of flair and uncrossing them just as quickly with a hiss of pain. Finding himself unable to strike a pose or even take a sassy sip of his non-existent cup, he felt a very justified pout coming up. Where had the girls put his shades, he was so naked! Spotting only the bright blue plastic ones with the bunny ears attached to the side that Rena had brought him, he gave up with a sigh of acute misery. Nothing would ever cheer him up again, his life was over!

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose at being confronted by a display that was so – Rebecca. She – he, was all drama once again and the detective shuddered with horror at the thought of him spending time with Roman. Did he really need another friend who insisted to call him their sidekick?

Spotting the dark shades Remy had been looking for half buried under the very soft blanket displaying a large-eared, blue cartoon creature that someone had draped over him, Logan fished them out of the pile of fabric. Upon finding the object of his desire dangling from the other man’s fingers, Remy lit up brightly. He made sure to school his features into his usual mask of disinterest quickly, but Logan had seen and verdammt, yes, he needed another friend like him. Why did his illogical emotions insist on attaching themselves to those strange, dramatic individuals?

Perhaps because they made his heart warm whenever their face transformed with happiness every time he did something to show his affection. Remy was certainly growing enthusiastic, since he’d spotted the little package Logan had been half hiding behind his back, nervous of its reception. Was he assuming too much about their history by giving something that referred to an incident that had happened so far in the past? He was not getting out of this one though.

“Hand it over, missy! I deserve PRESENTS!” The therapist wailed as if he’s been abandoned without food or hope in a dark hole in the earth, conveniently ignoring the dozens of pictures drawn with brightly colored crayons hung around his room and a stuffed pink bear adorned with tiny sunglasses still tucked under his arm.

Sighing, Logan revealed the clear plastic box, holding it out for grabbing hands (and patiently waiting as they missed on the first try, his friend clearly was still medicated).

The therapist stilled in concentration, pushing down his shades to squint at the small print on the label – honestly, why would he not simply use glasses, he’d refused them even in the gifted-camp. Logan felt his palms sweat in nervous irritation.

A giggle escaped the other man that was too high for his figure, but oddly fitting nevertheless. The detective released the breath he’d been holding.

“This is, like, the worst gift!” Remy crooned, waving the package in lieu of a cup.

Feeling his lips curl helplessly, Logan remembered their first genuine conversation with more than a little fondness. His lip had been bleeding all over his tidy polo-shirt. He’d been quietly listening to Rebecca rave about the stupidity of boys, pulling her hair and telling her to play with dolls and giving her flowers. The boys of the camp appeared to have felt motivated by her dismissive attitude towards them and had made it a game to win her over with bad flirting, unwanted attention and the very same vegetation that was now lying crumbled in the mud before them. Their pink petals had rained down onto the ground since she’d used them to beat off her annoying harassers.

Logan had felt sorry for her quickly, considering how uncomfortable the young girl had felt upon being followed around and pulled and prodded. A very – unfortunate incident following the flowers had spurred the young nerd to step in. Certainly, he’d done very little but get punched in the face, but upon being confronted with resistance and a witness, the other boys had fled.

Rebecca had hardly needed his protection, Logan had been certain of it. He’d never seen someone stand up to others so bravely and made sure to tell her so. She was strong in his eyes, and the shaking of her hand as she handed him a tissue for his lip didn’t diminish that.

They’d sat in the grass together until the bleeding stopped, just talking to each other. As Rebecca had torn apart the leftover stems of the poor red campions that had been unfortunate enough to grow close to boys nearing the peak of puberty and stupidity, she’d groused angrily that flowers were the worst gift ever. What was she supposed to do with plants she couldn’t eat anyways? ‘Flowers are no f-ing use to me unless they’re edible. Frigging useless vegetables! All straight and arrogant and fake. Boys are stupid.’

Now, he gleefully pried open the box of edible flowers, pulling out blue pansies, yellow and orange sage flowers and purple violets.

“The worst!” His eyes were bright with unshed tears though. They settled into a comfortable atmosphere afterwards, trading memories and sharing flowers to munch on despite the doctor’s exasperated warning.

Unfortunately, the therapist did not intend to let his long lost friend off the hook that easily. He leaned back in the mountains of pillows that had been stacked behind him, looking like the cat that got the cream and making Logan’s hackles rise.

“Soooo, princess. You thought she was an effing cat?”

Feeling a flush spread over his cheeks, Logan cursed his pale complexion. He cleared his throat, adjusting his tie for good measure.

“Considering the less then ideal circumstances as well as the poor visibility inside the narrow confines of the container we discovered...”

Remy started cackling with nothing less than malicious glee.

The detective growled at him, annoyed at being interrupted in his defense of his very reasonable assumption.

“You’re a riot, gurl! You’re lucky you found that sassy lady. She’s, like, the best!”

“I believe the raccoon to be male, actually.”

Remy raised an eyebrow over his shades before trying to catch a flower with his mouth. It landed in his hair. “Trust me, darling. She a queen. She’s basically my spirit animal or soulmate or whatever. We’re made to kick butt together!”

“Certainly.” Logan agreed, deciding such unreasonable assumptions were best handled the same way he dealt with Roman’s poetry about Virgil’s hair. Remy was not fooled as easily though. Pinning him with an attentive look, he went for the kill.

“How is my darkling patient doing?”

Logan stilled, feeling his throat close up with worry. He’d spent most of the past night holding Virgil and reassuring him until he’d cried himself out and calmed down enough to sleep curled around the raccoon. Despite having seen to his care as much as he was capable, he’d still released him to spend the day with Roman with the utmost reluctance. The poor thing had been through so much and blamed himself for all of it. Though with the capture of Victor, the worst threats were behind them, the relief was slow to come.

“Roman has taken him on a spa day in an, I fear, rather misguided attempt to provide a distraction from the previous events. Your conversation yesterday appears to have eased some of his worries.” Quietly, he added, “Your support has been a great help to aid his recovery. I am – grateful, beyond any capacity I can express.”

In an uncharacteristic bout of seriousness, Remy gave his friend a little half smile. “Doll, I am the greatest therapist of all time.” After settling down more comfortably and frowning at the cup on his bedside-table (water, ugh), he nudged the detective’s thigh with the plushy that had previously been buried under his right elbow.

“Talking to me is, like, magic, didn’t you know, darling? Maybe you should try it! You’re too worked up right now, I can’t operate with you like that!” He complained, gesticulating towards Logan’s straight back, his too still posture. Though his fear of interacting with Remy had subsided, his worry hadn’t. He should be with his little troublemaker right now, make sure he and his partner didn’t fight and prevent his foolish friend from getting hurt. And he definitely felt like he should be there for Patton. He was a civilian, soft and sensitive, he should have never witnessed a shooting. He should...

Fingers obnoxiously snapping in his face brought him back to the present. Remy looked pissed. “Do not ignore me!”

“Apologies.”

“There should be! Apologies!” Remy huffed, hugging Remy-bear under his chin with a pout. “Seriously though, do spill! Entertain me!”

The invitation was tempting. Fear had been eating away at him for months now and he sometimes felt like the weigh of his family’s hopes and expectations threatened to drag him under. Still, he couldn’t. Remy had been shot and really didn’t need any additional baggage, no matter how curious and eager he looked. Conversation had always come easy to them, Logan remembered. Being the same age and just as intelligent as Logan, though less prone to showing it, Rebecca had been an excellent companion. Remy however, was currently recovering-

“Do not patronize me, you hooligan!” Remy howled, seeing his reluctance. “You, babe, have the regrettable tendency to take everything onto your own less scrawny than they used to be shoulders and have no one your age to talk to. Roman is f-ing cute, I give you that, but you won’t burden him, he’s your pet. Virgil is, like, your baby, you sap. And Patton is the center of your problems, you poor fool. So, spill!”

Well, he’d never been able to deny any of his friends, even if they insulted him quite rudely. He was certainly no sap! Unsurprisingly, it took a father of a pair of wiggling girls to understand the constant fear Logan felt for his beloved family. Like they’d been so many years ago, Remy’s dark eyes were warm and patient, inviting a stiff and insecure kid to sit and share his thoughts. As he exposed his innermost fears and problems and listened to his friend’s own in return, he knew he’d do anything for this sassy mess of a person. Nothing had changed between them. Even after all those years, talking to Remy felt like belonging.

**********

There were twelve of them. Their stems were tough and unyielding, securely carrying the leathery blossoms wrapped around each other, colored a deep, unapologetic red. They were bred to perfection, each and every one of them looking exactly the same, meant to last as if they were made from wax or shiny fabric.

He’d placed the roses on the counter next to the till, arranging them evenly. Many a customer had already commented on them, calling him lucky to have received such a romantic gesture or commenting on how beautiful they were, on how good they smelled.

Patton didn’t feel lucky and he was ashamed to say that - well, he didn’t like them.

He thought they looked dead, as if they weren’t flowers at all. So tidy and stiff and even. Nothing was out of place, no flower dared to grow with anything but symmetric perfection. Even the smell felt somehow fake, like too strong perfume.

A single wildflower or lilac stem or messy blooming weed from a field like a bunch of foamy white cow’s parsley, even a dusty little daffodil with its bright yellow petals appealed to him so much more. He liked how they smelled, how they felt under his fingertips – so alive and soft and delicate, how they rained petals and bright yellow sticky pollen everywhere. Such fearlessly messy little plants, imperfect, unruly and real and living. These flowers were so... they were given with love he guessed, but they lacked personality. Emotion. They didn’t fit into his cafe and they didn’t fit him.

Logan had gotten that.

Patton’s heart somersaulted as he remembered the day Logan had shown up in his colorful space, flushed and awkward, nervous because of little old Patton. He’d barely been able to look at him, speaking too much, too quickly. He’d been anxious about his reaction. He’d wanted him to like his gift. The flowers he’d brought him for no reason other than to help him and make him feel good. Not to apologize or to fix anything. Just because he’d wanted to give Patton pleasure. The butterflies in his stomach made a giddy feeling rise in him. They were excited at the memory of Logan’s tall presence before him, his gentle, large hands cradling wrinkling, brown paper, his voice sounding deep and just a little bit unsteady. Because of him.

His mind cast him back to the silky softness of the petals, the awed, rising feeling of mattering to someone. Logan was listening to him. He cared for what he had to say. It was a heady feeling. To be listened to instead of silenced for his lack of competence or a lack of interest. It was even more than that, though. Without needing to be told, Logan had understood what Patton needed, what he wanted even. He’d thought about what he’d enjoy. The flowers he’d picked had been selected with his taste, his needs in mind. There was so much tenderness in the gesture.

Unseeing, Patton walked past the stiff vegetation Trevor had an unknown delivery-man sent here. His mind was cast back to the way the colorful, mismatching flowers had spread their sweet scent in his cafe for a whole week, warming him inside. To the way Logan’s eyes had brightened when he’d seen him, adorned with flowers, like he was something precious. Sometimes, Patton felt like he’d gotten something wrong. Like a heterosexual man who just cared about a friend would not treat him with so much – appreciation. Logan’s touch lingered on him so often, brushing his back, his hip, catching hold of his arm or cradling his hand, his eyes followed him around whenever he worked, his attention rested on him. Yes, he was a caring, protective man and gave his all to affection to Roman and the kiddo, but the way he treated Patton felt so much more…

He sighed, his chest tight with longing.

It just felt like more. Like it meant something to Logan. Like it meant as much to him as it was starting to mean for Patton. The thought both frightened and amazed him. It made him hopeful, yet also scared, guilty, insecure and distracted. He wished- he wished he had someone to talk to. His whole life seemed to be turning on its axis, turning him round and round and leaving him dizzy with possibility and terror.

By a stroke of luck, he’d been saved from his growing fear and uncertainty by the arrival of his new acquaintance Emile and his utterly delightful little twins. They’d been at the hospital for a few hours, doting on Remy and spoiling him, before the lively attention had worn the injured man out and they’d left him to sleep. Since the kids were far from tired themselves, Emile had thought of Patton and chosen to have a look at his famous cafe. And it was wonderful!

The children were so precious, showing them around and feeding them with his most colorful creations helped take Patton’s mind of the difficult evening that had followed the long wait at the hospital. He piled his favorite cookies covered in white frosting and colorful sprinkles high on their plates, delighting the girls, and to Patton’s great happiness, their father as well. Adding his most adorable sugar cookie mittens adorned with pink and white royal icing, Patton decided that at least for today, the little family should have all of the sweet treats they deserved. A few additional pretty cake-pop surely wouldn’t hurt….

The fact that Emile seemed as enthusiastic about the cheerful baking as the little ones simply warmed Patton’s heart. He’d gotten so many complaints from mothers who disliked him offering the things that made him happy to the children that he’d grown a little cautious, but the blonde young man was currently devouring his cake-pops with the same enthusiasm the girls displayed. He’d even managed to get his whole face sticky with sugar and frosting. With great dedication, Rena picked up the crumbs tumbling into his lap and onto his shirt and fed them to her sister sitting on the other side of him. They were so pure, looking at them made the sensitive patissier tear up with yearning. Their relationship was exactly what he had always wanted. Emile and Remy had looked so happy with each other, so trusting and relaxed, and Emile was just the kind of father he had always dreamed of being. And he was so kind to Patton! The ladies from the knitting club had immediately included him in their group upon spotting him. Before he’d been drawn into a conversation about the pleasure of flowery embroidery, he’d told the baker how much his daughters admired his work. Before Patton knew it, he’d been allowed to have the girls all to himself and bake with them. Nothing could quite calm his mind than the enthusiasm and unassuming affection of children!

Redmond, who was not shy to complain noisily, had thankfully been supported by the little street musician with the pink hair he’d picked up in front of his shop. She’d been so tiny and adorable and so quiet and her hair was so pink and he’d liked her singing that he’d asked if she wanted to help out. Additionally, she’d brought her adorable bulldog. Patton loved those! Their faces were so squishy and they always looked so lost and wrinkly and drooled everywhere. Poor Redmond had started raving about health violations and hygiene immediately, grabbing a mop and a lot of disinfectant. Must be the medical training. The patissier failed to see the problem though. The baking was protected by the class of the counter and there were no pets in the shop at all today, since Virgil had been snatched up by Roman to have a spa day and thus hadn’t brought them in. He’d been getting disappointed complaints as day!

After about an hour of baking with the help of clumsy little hands, he realized that his kitchen had never been that messy. There was flour and sprinkles everywhere, crunching under his feet and on his sleeve and even getting in his hair. Patton loved it! The girls were so easily affectionate with their curious hands touching everything- the flour, the dough, his sweater and face, wanting to be picked up and held on his hip while they decorated the pastries and low-sugar, whole wheat cookies he baked with them. If he’d teach them something, at least he should make an effort to make it look like his baking wasn’t handing out diabetes like free candy.

His heart was feeling less heavy as he helped balance the tray of baked goods outside to ‘show Papa what we made, he’ll love it, da-ing!’ Polysyllabic words sure were difficult to say around growing teeth. Thankfully, the stress of the last day that had still put some well concealed tension in the blonde man’s shoulders had eased with good conversation and the sound of laughing children. He smiled at Patton gratefully, sincerely thanking him for his efforts and asking him to take a break to chat and get to know each other. Since the ladies were ready to be on their way, saying goodbye and patting his cheeks (and other places in Mrs Van der Beeks case) and the kids had found the toys in the corner, Patton agreed. As it turned out, Emile was, much like his children, exactly what the baker had needed. His face was open and friendly, his voice cheerful and kind. He was so easy to talk to, and Patton was in desperate need for someone to confide in. When he asked about the roses, it was just too hard to shallow his feelings like he usually did. Shamefully, he caved.

“Trevor gave them- sent them to me because of a – a little row we had yesterday. That’s really sweet of him, isn’t it? He didn’t have to do that.”

“Hm, I guess so. Investing effort into a relationship is what makes it a strong fusion after all. What makes you say he didn’t have to do it?” Emile asked, casually curling a leg up under him, putting his socked foot close to Patton’s thigh, offering contact but not pushing. A cheerful underwater scene was depicted on them. His tone was light, curious. Patton fumbled with his tea bag, wrapping the string around the chipped handle.

“Because… our fight was my fault?” He mumbled, hunching his shoulders. He shouldn’t be pushing his issues on this nice man!

Emile smiled encouragingly though, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. “Oh? Now that doesn’t sound like just a little row anymore. And I don’t think a fight can be the fault of only one person, any imbalance usually comes from both parties, don’t you think? Trevor seems to agree, or he wouldn’t have sent you those fancy flowers.”

“Huh, you’re right.” Patton mumbled, looking at the crimson petals only for a moment.

“You don’t sound so convinced. Why do you think he gave you the flowers?”

“I… I’m not sure.” Patton sighed, running a hand over his face. “To – to apologize, I think.”

“You think? Is there anything he needs to apologize for?” Emile inquired, watching Patton attentively. His eyes were soft and kind. Something about this man felt so welcoming, like he genuinely wanted to listen and soothe. Still.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about this.” Drawing back, Patton made to get up. He’d never felt this urge to just spill everything. To lay everything bare. It was something he’d trained himself out of wanting, for the protection of his relationship.

“Now wait, that is a load of barnacles!”

Grabbing his soft sleeve and raining sprinkles on the couch, Emile pulled the baker back down so their shoulders were touching.

“You shouldn’t feel bad for talking about your feelings to someone who just wants to be there for you! Communication is healthy and important and you are not only helping yourself with it, but your partner as well. Discussing your issues is a way of working on a relationship, which is what your boyfriend is doing in his own way with the flowers. Making yourself feel better by getting support is not bad or selfish. Trust me, I won’t tell. I promise.”

Patton deflated. He knew he was wrong to push his issues on this nice man, but he was just so confused and conflicted. And perhaps he was right. He was overwhelmed by the situation and felt like he was about to make a grave mistake if he couldn’t get his act together. Perhaps he really needed help.

“You really won’t tell?” He asked. His voice sounded small. Trevor had always told him to speak up if he didn’t want him to ignore Patton, he wasn’t a child, but he couldn’t help it. Emile didn’t seem to mind though. His smile was as warm as sunshine.

“Of course I won’t! This is between you and me and it will be fantastic! Let’s have some storytime to fix the issues with your fusion!”

“Our – fusion? Like in Steven Universe?” Patton asked softly. The moment the words had left his lips, he felt a mortified flush climb his cheeks. He liked to watch cartoons about loving and tolerant characters when he was safe and unheard in the kitchen, to cheer himself up by seeing their affectionate relationships. Surely Emile would scoff at him. The other man’s face broke out in the biggest grin though.

“Oh my diamond, exactly! I love that show with all my heart! Enthusiastic Emile – activate!”

Geeking about cartoons was the best, aside from the girls trying to dye his hair with flour. Before he knew it, they were talking about more then fictional relationships.

“It’s so understandable that he was mad at me after I got home so late again, and I even forgot to call him again, he must have been so worried. This sort of thing keeps happening so often lately and it’s all my fault, I’m so distracted by other things and- ugh, I don’t know. I am such a mess and he was so mad and he screamed at me – and he was right to! And I should feel lucky, because the fight didn’t get out of hand like I thought it would – I expected it to but he kept his promise and I should be grateful, but I – I wasn’t.”

Emile listened attentively, making a mental note about the way the patissier had expected worse than being yelled at and was apparently surprised by the fact that it had not come despite a promise.

“Now your feelings surely had a good reason and they should be valued and listened to. What did you feel instead?”

His mug of tea had gone cold, but Emile was very much warmed by a fire for the hunched young man before him. He wished someone would give him a hug like Remy always gave him when he came home. He was much more of an affectionate limpet than his husband, but got indulged anyway. Sometimes he’d just jump into his arms when he entered their place and let the other carry him around until the kids made them topple onto the couch. Patton meanwhile did not seem to know what to do with the sort of feelings he seemed unused to.

“I, ohgosh... I got angry at him.” He whispered, half in fear and half in surprise at himself. The unfamiliar feeling had just welled up in him so suddenly, he’d been so tired and so relieved, but still shaking with adrenalin at what had almost happened to him, it had just burst out of him. For a moment, he’d just seen Trevor so clearly, and he’d looked so… ugly. So selfish. The memory still made his heart race, even here in his safe space.

“Didn’t you think of how much I’d worry?! Didn’t you ever think! Your forgetfulness hurts me!” Trevor had hollered, his pale face growing blotchy and red. He’d been leaning over Patton, getting closed, cornering him, his eyes wild. The smaller man’s pulse had hammered in his ears, his hands had been shaking. For the first time, he’d felt more than icy fear though. The stress of the day, the images of the loving couple still fresh in his mind, the selflessness he’d witnessed, it forced him to see the contrast to this situations, to the ridiculousness of his petty tantrum, in shocking clarity. Suddenly, his frustration felt like no wall could hold it at bay, no fear or insecurity, no terror of the consequences. Everything just broke out of him.

“Hurt you – I almost got shot today!! Remy almost died, why must you make this about yourself?!

He’d felt like liquid fire was consuming him. He couldn’t believe it. After so much tragedy, he was here listening to this! And yet he knew the moment the words had left his lips what he’d gotten himself into. He’d never spoken to Trevor, to any man this way before. He’d lose control over this provocation. He always did, despite his promises. He’d promised never to grab him too hard after the first time, and a year later he’d shoved him into a wall hard enough to rattle his bones because he’d unintentionally flirted with another student. He’d promised never again to shake him hard enough to make his head crash into the cupboard after Patton had forgotten to look at his phone and missed nine of his calls and eight months later he’d backhanded him across the face, making chis cheek swell and grow purple. He’s promised to never slap him again and barely half a year later he punched Patton so hard his mouth had filled with blood and his head had felt like it would split in half because he’d made a naive joke that had insulted him. He’d promised to never do it again and just a couple of months later he’d kicked him in the abdomen so cruelly, he’d blacked out for a few seconds. Patton had forgotten to lock their front door. He’d sworn to never hurt him again and the very same month, the baker had broken a plate and Trevor had dragged him to the bedroom for the first time and pulled his belt from its loops, mad with rage because of his believe that Patton intentionally failed to respect their home, burning the sound of cracking leather into his mind and his skin.

He’d promised things would be different, but they wouldn’t be. He’d beat and break him again and yet Patton couldn’t bring himself to regret his words.

However, upon being confronted with aggression rather than submissiveness, rather than fear, Trevor stopped in his tracks, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Instead of ducking his head, Patton braced himself.

Trevor didn’t raise a hand.

For the first time, Patton saw him backpedal.

“I’m not making this- how could you say something so- so cruel?! You almost got killed today, I’m only worried about you! About what could happen to you! I was never thinking about myself, like them! Those people keep endangering and hurting you and I am terrified that next time, you’ll be the one in the hospital! Do you think they ever thought of that?!”

In between the indignation, anger and outrage, he’d looked – afraid. It was an expression that weighted Patton down more than any shackles made of metal ever could.

“Why did you get angry?” Emile asked, pulling Patton out of his thoughts. He was grateful for it. The unexpected turn of events had left him more shaken than any beating he could have been put through. Just as he’d believed he’d finally understood Trevor, he changed. This moment, more than anything, he’d expected him to loose his temper and break his promise he’d tried so hard to believe in. But he hadn’t. He’d finally, finally changed his ways and Patton should be filled with happiness, with hope. This was what he’d been hoping for for years. Instead he couldn’t seem to find that endless well of forgiveness that had never failed him before. Neither could he stop thinking about the things he’d learned from the people Trevor claimed had hurt him carelessly. The protection and unending patience the detectives had offered to sweet, brave Virgil. The undemanding affection they treated each other with. The loving, domestic relationship of Remy and Emile. The way Logan spoke to him, touched him, looked at him, listened to him. It was like he couldn’t look at Trevor the same way again. Like he saw him through the filter of his new-found experiences, and it wasn’t pretty. Suddenly, it wasn’t the man who always knew best, who knew the way when Patton failed once again or who tried to fix Patton despite the trouble it caused him. In the face of his shifting world-view, putting his jumbled thoughts into words was hard, especially considering poor Emile had been through so much!

“Well. You know what happened yesterday. I should be comforting you! It was so horrible, I’m so so sorry you had to go through that!” Patton lamented, turning wide, sorrowful eyes on him. Emile melted. This baker was like a real life Steven Universe!

“Oh no, I’m fine, Patton. It’s all good! I got all of the cuddling and talking I needed and you were already there for my husband! Let’s not get off track here, I wanna know why you got mad, and don’t apologize for your feelings! They are valid and this is a place without judgment.” He promised, placing his now cold cup down and cupping the other man’s flour dusted hands in his. The baker bowed his head, blinking back tears and hiding under his light-brown curls.

“Okay, if you… So, I was pretty tired when I got home, so much had happened and he just got into my face and started complaining about how he’d waited and how I’d made him worry and how I never thought of him since I started spending time with Logan and the others, and I just suddenly felt so… so furious.” He sounded like he barely believed the words himself.

“I know I was wrong and he was right to be frustrated with me!” Patton hastened to assure the other out of habit and duty. And he did now all that. Trevor had been treated terribly by him the last few weeks. He’d failed him time and again and especially after his confession he should be trying harder. He should be working on his relationship like Trevor. There was so much he should do – but didn’t really want to. Retelling his evening made tears of frustration burn in his eyes and guilt burn in his stomach. Emile was understanding though.

“It’s okay, and I can absolutely see why you reacted that way. It’s a perfectly natural response and you were right to point out how you felt.” He hastened to reassure him. As a councilor, he’d come across his his fair share of difficult people, but this one sure sounded like a lot of work! The poor patissier before him looked like his whole life was falling apart before his eyes and he had no idea how to handle it. It made his heart ache uncomfortably. He itched to hold his girls. To be held by Remy while they curled up in his lap. He’d noisily complain about his day, entertaining all of them with stories about the trash panda queen until they were laughing again.

“You two have been fused for a pretty long time, haven’t you?” He mumbled, brushing his thumb over the back of soft hands.

“Um -yes? We got together while I was training to be a patissier, just after I finished high-school. It feels like after a while, he was everything I had, everything I could rely on. And I always wanted to be everything for him. I wanted to make him happy more than anything.”

“That’s… very selfless of you.” Ouch. Seeing Patton this way, shoulders hunched, expression twisted with pain and uncertainty, felt like a punch in the gut. Still, it couldn’t be helped.

“And… do you think it’s a stable fusion?”

Patton froze, pulled his hands back. His guards were up so suddenly, it gave Emile whiplash to see his expression close off so suddenly. The councilor was not surprised. A likely abusive relationship like this one usually found ways to preserve itself, through threats, manipulation or the feeling of helplessness and obligation.

“What do you mean? Of course it is!” The baker answered lightly. He intertwined his fingers in his lap, smiled at Emile like all was well. As if they were talking about the weather. There was a storm of emotion behind his eyes. How often had he felt he’d need to draw back from someone trying to help him?

Smiling kindly and tentatively reaching out for his hands, Emile tried to reestablish contact, tried to bridge the distance and barriers Patton had taught himself to erect at any sign of danger. He wasn’t shaken of as the cramped digits were gently unwound and held.

“Well, do you feel like it’s a fusion like Sapphire’s and Ruby’s? Where your strengths and weaknesses complement each other, where you each contribute to the happiness of the other and both do everything for their partner and you can’t bear to be apart because you both create something better than the sum of your parts when you’re together? Like Garnet?”

“I can’t break up with Trevor.”

The words were spoken with a tone that was so final and hopeless, it made a leaden weight drop into the blonde man’s stomach. Patton’s eyes looked so – defeated. Ouch again.

He stilled, analyzing the statement. He dearly wished for his pen and paper. ‘I can’t’. Oh my diamond, that was less than ideal.

“I could never ask you to, Patton. I’m just here to talk and be there for you, alright?” He promised, knowing he’d have to give the other space or he’d try to escape a threat to his fusion as he’d been conditioned to.

They waited for a long, tense moment. Neither seemed to know what Patton would do next. He should leave, thank his new friend for the chat and get back to work. He should smile and bake and go home and preserve his relationship like his mother had taught him. It was the most important thing in his life. ‘We have to keep everything together, be strong and forgive him and protect the family. It’s the right thing to do. What else are we supposed to do? We cannot be alone and we must not leave him alone.’

Yes. Trevor was his to take care of. You didn’t just leave your partner. You couldn’t. Trevor couldn’t be without him.

He drew a deep, fortifying breath, steeling himself to send this man back to his perfect life, to go back to his own.

His gaze fell onto the flowers.

They smeared a spot of blood-red onto the soft pastel of his cafe, out of place and painful after having seen so much blood the day before. And suddenly Patton knew why Trevor had sent them. It wasn’t because he’d wanted to apologize. He did feel sorry for hitting him, for losing his temper every single time, Patton knew that. He saw how he beat himself up over his loss of control. But he hadn’t sent them because he’d felt sorry for being demanding, selfish and manipulative the night before. He hadn’t. He’d sent them to appease and keep Patton.

Without warning, the slight baker felt cheap and hurt and used. Trevor didn’t regret using him, blaming him, demanding more and more and more from him. He hadn’t sent the flowers out of love.

Emile waited, keeping his hands open and welcoming where they loosely held onto his new friend’s. An invitation.

“We’re not like Garnet.”

Mortified tears unexpectedly fell onto their joined hands. A quiver shook the young man as pain drove into his chest like a sharp, unforgiving shard of crystal. His relationship was falling apart before his eyes, his whole life with it. He was nothing alone! He’d never been alone! This was all that mattered! Everything he’d worked for – for years – it turned to dust before his eyes, bitter, wasted, it hurt. Oh gosh, it hurt so much. The realization that he was trapped in a building that was falling apart, spiked with cutting glass that was hurting him wherever he turned, that was nothing like what he’d tried so hard to make it seem made him fall into a pit of despair. Oh no, no he couldn’t handle this, he was falling apart-

Emile grabbed him quickly and pulled him in. Though he was just as tall as Patton and nowhere near strong and big enough to envelope him like Logan did, he held on like his life depended on it. Like Patton’s pain felt like his own. A sob broke free, muffled by a pale pastel cardigan. The young baker held on, trying hard not to fall with the pieces of his life that were dropping away beneath his feet. He felt so hopeless. Everything broke apart and he was bound to the rubble, tied to the ruins, crushed under the pieces of what he loved. The weight of his failed goals pressed onto his chest, constricting his ribs and his heart. He couldn’t breathe. The terrifying lack of oxygen brought his world into sharp, cruel focus. The tension in their flat, the anger in Trevor’s eyes, the anguish and guilt after a fight that had left Patton’s skin torn and his bones cracked. This was what he had fought and bled for? Everything tasted bitter, everything hurt.

Wait, not everything.

He tasted sugar.

Surprised, he blinked his eyes open, his vision blurry with tears.

Between him and the kind father holding him, a blonde little girl had squeezed her tiny body and was currently trying to feed him cookies with a determination that couldn’t even be stopped by her embarrassed father.

“No Papa, let me! Cookies make happy!” She groused, shoving the sweets into Patton’s face insistently, making him sticky all over.

“And braids!” Rena chirped behind him. There were little hands pulling his dusty hair a little too roughly.

“Ahhh yes, I know, babies, but this is a grownup thing, okay?” Emile stammered, frantically trying to save the man in his arms from both a panic attack and an all out love assault.

The sound that escaped Patton was a sad mixture of a laugh and a sob, breathless and half crazy. He wrapped the little girl into his embrace, getting frosting into his hair, and held on. She harrumpfed and tried to hold the cookie out of reach, getting it snatched up by her helpful sister. Sticking it into her mouth for safekeeping, she tried to climb the back of the couch for better access for braiding. Emile tried to hold onto both his crying friend and prevent his little angel from braining herself on the back of the couch at the same time. Darn it, he should be used to this kind of balancing act by now!

A helpful customer showed up and grabbed a hold of the squirming little worm, balancing her at the risk of unraveling her own headscarf. Oh Rena, please stop flailing so much!

A slobbering bulldog, barely held back by a pink haired girl, showed up next to join their sad cuddle pile, getting drool all over his precious trousers and – ahhh barnacles! It tried to climbs onto the couch with them! Emile was not buying a dog, ever! As more concerned people gathered, loyal customers, all of them, Patton seemed to come back more to himself. Though Emile felt quite overwhelmed and had rather shielded the poor thing from so much attention, Patton seemed to find something other than shame in his public breakdown.

Yes, he felt stupid and weak for falling apart so pathetically, but Logan and Roman had taught him that accepting comfort was no shameful thing. And he was starting so see that he had comfort. He had a life outside of his broken down relationship. He’d even built it himself. He was home.

The teen who always came in with his skater buddies awkwardly put down a glass of water before him he’d gotten from Redmond and his favorite soccer mom was looking at him with nothing but compassion, wringing her hands in agitation. The stock brokers who came all the way from their job to get his pear and frangipane pastries were worriedly standing around their table, clearly not knowing what to do but still wanting to help. And Emile and his kids had all but wrapped themselves around him. And then there were all of his friends who loved him, even when they weren’t there. He wasn’t alone. It wasn’t so bad. It would be okay. He knew where to find the strength he needed to take h- to take to the flat he shared with Trevor.

Wiping his eyes and gratefully taking the tissue the overweight owner of the nearby jewish bookshop handed him, he gave the crowd around him a brave smile.

Calming down had taken a little while, but eventually they’d managed to send the worried crowd back on their way and even the children back to their corner with their new friend Fatma. They’d insisted on braiding his hair a little more though. Carefully, Emile was now unbraiding the tangled locks, letting Patton lean against his side as he did. There were still issues he wanted to address.

“So, what happens now?” The young father asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Patton sniffled quietly. His breathing was still a little uneven, broken by occasional hiccups after crying so hard. He’d pulled his legs up, hugging them to his chest, making himself very small. The question made him tense fearfully. As if driven by a guilt he’d been carrying around with himself for a long time, his response spilled from his lips in a terrified rush.

“I’m sorry – please don’t be mad at me, I know you must be frustrated, and you expect me to – but - but I - I cannot just leave him. You don’t understand! I – he’s trying, and I have to try as well. You don’t just leave your partner! He kept his promise to me and I have to keep my promise to him!”

‘To never leave him.’

“Hush now, it’s okay.” Emile soothed, drawing Patton close. Curled up like that, he felt as tiny as his baby-girls. “I said I wouldn’t ask you to and I won’t. I’m not judging anything you do and I’ll be here not matter what. We all will be, don’t you think?”

Yes. Virgil had shown him that he accepted his situation, that he’d still be his friend. Even Logan, who he knew hated his relationship with a passion and anger only he possessed, had not pushed him again.

“Your relationship reminds me a little of Malachite in some aspects.” Emile added carefully. “You at least don’t seem very happy with it and you’re both trying really hard to hold it together for different reasons, even though it’s wearing you down. You feel responsible for him, don’t you?”

“I am.”

He sounded very final. Getting the message, Emile steered clear of the topic.

“Okay. So you won’t let your fusion come to an end for your own sake. That’s okay, it’s your choice. I wonder what it is like for him though.” He asked softly, trying to make Patton see a position beyond his self imposed sacrifice. “Do you think he’s happier in the fusion than before?”

The simple question got the patissier thinking. Of course he must be happier, people belonged in relationships, and Patton was doing everything for him. He’d pick the stars from the sky for him, he’d even let him step over his back if he wanted to get them for himself. They were together, so things were as they should be, as Trevor had promised they’d be as they’d become a couple. Patton hadn’t expected things to be to different from how they were now, he was used to the tension, the effort, the pain from growing up with his parents and had never been with another. And Trevor had expected… he’d expected them to be happy. To do everything together and fulfill their dreams, to create the successful business he’d always dreamed of as a young man, fresh faced and charming. He’d been so sure it would work and his belief and enthusiasm had drawn Patton in. Yes, he’d had some problems with his confidence, bouts of depression and insecurity, but he’d always tried to pick himself back up, to improve and work on himself.

And then he’d stopped.

The longer they’d been together, the more he’d started to let his anger take over, to push things onto Patton, to blame him for his moods and failures and cease trying to find fault in himself. He’d let his partner feel the weight of his problems, his moods, stopped holding back. And now… Patton didn’t recognize him as the brave, hopeful young man he’d once been. And he realized...

Their relationship had broken him.

Patton froze.

Everything seemed to come to a standstill as the understanding sunk in that them being together hadn’t been a good thing. It had hurt both of them. Trevor had grown secure in his right to act however he wanted. It had taken down his inhibitions, his need to work on his mental problems. He’d stopped seeing himself as the reason for them, since there had always been an easier target around that had never fought back and had submissively taken the pain and punishment, that had invited the anger.

All of his suffering had been for nothing. He’d made it worse.

There were no tears left to cry. Emile’s voice was far away as he got lost in the numbness that was his mind. The lights around him dimmed, the sounds blurred together. It was all too much.

As he came to, finally, the shadows cast by the sun had grown taller, and he found himself lying on the sofa in his office. Emily and Rena were nestled like a knot of limbs in the crook behind his knees, fast asleep. Steven Universe was playing on Emil’s phone. His new friend was sitting before him, looking worried. He’d just shut down.

Patton allowed himself a few minutes to adjust and allow his thoughts to run their course. It was a slow process. His whole body was filled with a tiredness that went beyond physical exhaustion. It was too much to process, all he wanted to do was be somewhere safe where he could simply hide from the weight of his realizations, from the fact that he had to come to terms with the monumental damage he had inflicted, from the understanding that he needed to choose consequences. For a moment, he closed his eyes and let his mind take him where nothing bad could touch him. He was on a soft couch, nested between pillows and cushioned by loving bodies and furry animals. The sound of pages turning next to him reassured him of his safety, of being watched over. How he wished everything about Trevor could just vanish. Then he could be there. Be with them. With him.

Pressure squeezed his throat shut, making his swallow hard. Fleeing was not something he could do. No, he had to move on. He was the strong one and would find a solution. He always did. He tried to gather the things he’d learned, tried to see the good in it as he did in everything. They had problems, but they now understood what they were. Perhaps that could actually give them a chance to do what they were both already trying to do.

Yes. With a burst of strength born from desperation, Patton vowed to try and fix things for them! He saw the problem now, he realized finally that they were both unhappy together! He wasn’t alone and it didn’t have to be them against each other, they both wanted their relationship to work, it was the only thing Patton knew what to want, perhaps they could try to make it work together! He needed to talk to Trevor, he was ready to try, he knew it! The fact that he had not hit him despite the multiple threats to their partnership had proven it to Patton, there was a chance! They’d go to couple’s therapy together and try one last time! Yes, they could fix it, like his mother had always wanted to with their father. He had a chance to do what she’d always wished for, and he’d do it for her.

****************************************************************

Kudos to all of you who spotted Jonathan from Queer Eye. You treated yourself to a wholesome show full of love and acceptance.

So, this has been a long time in the making, but Patton is getting there. We’re in the hot zone now, I promise!

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! I always want to know how you feel about the chapters and love talking to you <3

Sources of pictures: Wildflowers, Roman’s hair, cake pops, cookies, mittens

Next Chapter

#Logicality #Prinxiety #Remile #Detective AU #Keep him safe

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