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starlitangels · 1 year ago

Text

To Steer By

Hiii... I was writer's blocked on this one for A While™. But I bring to you, the next chapter! And, uh... I'm sorry for the cliffhanger... 2.4k words

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7

—

Chapter 8 - Arrival in Aria

—

Moments after Estelle collapsed, her eyes were opening again. Avior was just grateful he caught her before she hit the ground. “Estelle?” He cupped her face. “Are you alright?”

She scrunched her eyebrows. “How long was I out?”

“Not long. Few moments.”

“Oh good. That didn’t feel like enough magic to warrant another all-day blackout,” she mumbled, regaining control of her muscles. “But… I do need to sit down.”

“Let’s get you back in the carriage and we’ll be on our way. We’re only going to travel a bit longer to find someplace to rest for the night anyway,” Avior said. He scooped her knees up and took her back to the carriage, where Vindemiator had convinced Caelum to go back to the driver’s bench of the darker carriage.

The inside of the white carriage had two benches, one facing the direction of travel, and one facing the other way. Avior laid Estelle on the former and took the latter for himself. He felt Vega get back in his position and heard the snap of reins encouraging the horses to go.

The carriage lurched and off they went.

Estelle didn’t bother to try to sit up. Just lounged across the bench, pinching the bridge of her nose. Avior watched over her intently.

“That was incredible,” he said.

She peeked one eye open and looked at him. “You lit a candle from a distance with the snap of your fingers. You’ve got power yourself.”

“Mm. Nothing like yours. I’m half-demon. My powers tend to be… fiery. Destructive and dangerous. I can do other things but it’s difficult. Yours… it was… that was… pure. Radiant, even.”

She snickered. “You should see my brother’s,” she said. “I’m nothing compared to him.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

She shuffled so she was on her side, facing him. “You met Morgan. My brother. He’s the Crown Prince. He’s the one who got the lion’s share of the magic. He’s the one who can see the future, not me. I can use the positioning of the stars, sun, and moon to make a few guesses and predictions, but Morgan is far more accurate.”

“But can he make that swarm of falling stars?”

She smiled. “He could make a bigger one. He actually is the one who taught me how.”

Avior hummed in thought. The carriage hit a dip in the road and bounced. Estelle winced but otherwise didn’t react.

He stuck his head out the window. “Vega? Are we stopping soon?”

“As soon as we find a defensible position to make camp,” Vega replied.

“Hm… well… hurry up.”

“Yes, sire.”

—

Vindemiator kicked his ankles up onto Scorpius’ lap. Who, for his part, didn’t bother to push them off. “See, the problem,” Vin said, “is Avi’s wife has white hair and I don’t know how to work with that.” He glanced over at where Avior had Estelle curled up on his lap. She was asleep and Avior was quietly speaking with Vega. “Like. All of us except Caelum have dark hair. I can make anything to work with dark hair. But I don’t know how to make anything for hair that pale. Like. With dark hair a red outfit pops and is sexy. But white hair? Which is the pop? What do I do with it?”

“Vin, you know you’re not actually the royal tailor right?” Scorpius asked. “Like. You know you outrank the royal tailor by a lot. Right?” He snickered. “Besides. The king will probably hire a female seamstress from Castle Town specifically for Estelle’s wardrobe when she needs anything.”

Vin scoffed. “Rude.”

“All I’m saying is she’s brought her entire wardrobe with her. She’s not going to need anything new for a while.”

Vindemiator stared at Scorpius, disbelief painted all over his face. “Are you implying she’s not going to have an entirely new gown made for her coronation? Which, by the way, is in two weeks?”

“No one in Aria will know that the gown she wears isn’t brand-new.”

“They’ll have a decent guess if it’s got Star Kingdom written all over it. She needs something that shows she’s our queen. Something that feels Arian.”

Scorpius rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he muttered.

Vindemiator pulled out his little book where he liked to sketch out design ideas. Caelum shuffled where he was asleep on his bedroll beside Vindemiator. Caelum’s hair had once been blond. But the transformation had turned his hair a soft, pale pink. Vindemiator could work with pink. It was the white he wasn’t solid on.

White just stood out so much. If he wanted to do a pop of color, the white would still outshine it. But a white gown—in Vin’s opinion—was too much of the same color. He needed something to complement the white. Her wedding gown had been even paler than sky blue. Which had been… nice. He supposed. He didn’t work with pastel shades for anyone other than his brother. Maybe he’d have to learn.

Across the small campsite, Estelle was asleep on Avior’s lap in the dimmest light of the campfire. Vindemiator narrowed his eyes at her and glanced down at his book.

He sketched the basic profile of a grand gown, and in the corner wrote, Dark Red? Black? Maybe one of those would work. She’d probably prefer a pastel, considering everything he’d seen of her wardrobe. But a deep, dark shade would be more Arian.

He brought his legs off Scorpius’ lap and bent his knees up as a firmer surface to draw on, adding details to the gown and material considerations. Satin and silk were nice but she needed something richer for a coronation. Velvet and taffeta were added to his list of notes. He didn’t care that he wasn’t the actual royal tailor. He liked the work and he liked the artistic expression.

Vindemiator kept designing long after everyone else had drifted off—barring Vega, who’d elected to keep first watch.

—

“Caelum?” Vindemiator asked his brother as the party finally crossed into the Arian castle keep’s walls. “Why don’t you show Avior’s new wife around the castle? Give her a grand tour?”

Caelum perked up. “Okay!”

Avior gave Vindemiator a confused look. Vin just shrugged.

Caelum scampered over to Estelle. “Can I show you around?” He bounced a little on his feet.

“Of course,” Estelle replied.

Caelum tried so hard to be proper. He offered her his elbow and tried to be dignified. But the second they reached one of the doors, he grabbed her wrist to point out something and went back to bouncing.

“Why Caelum?” Avior asked.

“He’ll show her all the best parts of the castle and make it easier for her to remember how to get around. And I wanted to talk to you,” Vindemiator replied.

What few members of the guard had been rebuilt were helping to unpack the supplies from the journey. Avior nodded away from the group and led Vin after him to somewhere more private. “What’s on your mind?”

Vin opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Your wife is going to need an attendant,” he said. “I… I was thinking that… my partner might be interested. I haven’t asked, but I know they were wanting to try something new. Their current job hasn’t been fulfilling for them. They need more interaction with people, not just being alone.”

Avior nodded. “Go ahead and ask them. If they’re interested we’ll get them started. See if it works for them.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Before Avior could move to leave, Vin stepped into his path. “There’s one more thing,” he said. Avior paused and gestured for him to go on. “We’ve, uh… we’ve been like this… for a month, Avi.”

“Was the attack a month ago already?” Avior muttered, sounding tired.

“Yeah. Uh… it’s been long enough that… that I… I don’t really feel like Vindemiator, anymore.”

Avior’s head tilted slightly to one side. “Alright…”

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot. Would… would it be okay if you all call me Gavin, instead?”

“Of course. If that’s what would make you the most comfortable.”

“I think it would. Caelum can still call me Vin, but, uh, I think I’d prefer it if the rest of you call me Gav if you’re going to shorten it.”

“That’s something we can do. Would you like to tell the others or do you want me to?”

“Normally I would. But you’re the king now. I think they’ll listen to you better.”

Avior couldn’t help but chuckle. “I think you put too much stock in their respect for me, but I’ll talk to them anyway and make sure they respect your decision. I’m sure they will, but I’ll talk to them.”

“Thank you, my king.” Gavin bowed slightly.

“My honor,” Avior replied.

They shook hands while Gavin rolled his eyes at the formality of it all and Avior smiled.

—

Estelle listened to Caelum raptly. He was excitable and young and sweet—but he also knew the castle and explained it and its layout simply. His rambles tended to wander aimlessly, but always snapped back to the subject of the castle when something of note was in their path. He also kept his directions simple.

“Oh, oh!” Caelum whispered, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “This door is one of the offshoots of the kitchen.” He gave her the youthful version of a sly smile—the smile of kids sharing secrets. “This one is the one where they make the cookies.”

Estelle twisted her head to face him properly and dropped her mouth open. “Is that right?” she asked conspiratorially.

Caelum nodded. “Don’t tell the baker I told you.”

“No, of course not.”

Down the corridor, she noticed when Caelum clammed up. It was the first time it had happened—it’d be hard not to notice. He slowed his pace and looked at where several planks of wood had been propped up over a hole in the stone wall out to the courtyard, trying to block the draft. He stared at the hole, brows tilting, lower lip sliding out, eyes watering. Estelle squeezed his hand where he’d been holding onto hers.

“Hey,” she asked softly. “What’s wrong?”

He whimpered slightly, shaking his head.

Estelle gathered him to her, resting his head on her chest and putting her chin on the back of his head. “It’s okay, little guy,” she said, rocking back and forth. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

He shook his head, horns nearly getting caught in her dress’ bodice. “That—that’s where the demon broke through the wall,” he managed to say. “The… the one that hurt Vin. The one that did this to us.” He grabbed his horns and pulled on them. Almost like he was trying to pull them off his head entirely. Estelle grabbed his hands and eased them away.

“Hey,” she entreated softly. “None of that. I know you must miss who you were. How you looked. But you’re okay. You’re alive, your brother’s alive. Neither of you were seriously hurt. And you’re different now but you’re still you. Having a little bit of demon blood in your veins doesn’t stop you from being the sweetest kid I’ve ever met.” She raked her fingers through his soft pink curls. “Don’t let something you had no control over get you down when you and your brother are stronger because of what happened to you.”

He sniffled and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. “I-I-I’ll try.”

“Trying is all you need, buddy.”

“Cae? What’s wrong?” a familiar voice demanded. Estelle turned to see Avior and Caelum’s brother picking up their pace at the end of the hallway. Jogging over.

Vin took Caelum from Estelle’s embrace and into his own. He glanced at the hole in the wall. Understanding dawned in his eyes. He glanced at Avior. “I’m gonna take him back to his room,” he said. Avior nodded.

Once the brothers were around the corner, Avior offered his elbow to his wife. “May I finish his tour?”

“Of course,” Estelle replied, taking his arm.

“Caelum is young. He’s had the hardest time… adjusting to all of the recent changes.”

“I guessed as much. At least he has his brother.” She sighed. “What’s his full first name again?”

“Growing up, the name he was given was Vindemiator. But he’s asked that we call him Gavin now.”

“Oh thank the stars. I have a good memory but I couldn’t get that name. Gavin I can remember easy.”

Avior smiled.

The tour of the castle continued for a bit, and Avior paused on the third floor. “Wh…” He licked his lips and sighed. “Where would you rather sleep?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you wish to join me in my chambers, or would you rather maintain your own?”

“Oh. I… I admit, I hadn’t really thought about it.” She reached up with her free hand and fidgeted with the ends of her hair. “Is whatever I decide now… permanent?”

“It doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it to be.” He pushed open a door and led her in. “These are my chambers. They were my father’s.” With his free hand, he gestured around. “As you can see, plenty big enough for the both of us to maintain our own space when we want.” He cleared his throat. “Unless you’d rather have several more tons of stone between you and I when you want space.”

“Um… how about…” On the one hand, she was well aware that she barely knew him. They’d been around each other constantly for a week, but was that enough? It would probably be kinder to both of them if they maintained their own space until they were comfortable enough with one another to share living quarters.

On the other hand… the thought of sharing space and seeing him at his most vulnerable, comfortable, and casual bore a deep appeal.

“Let’s try together at first,” she said. “If we feel like we need more space until we know each other better, I’ll be fine with that.”

Avior nodded. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

—

Tag list: @pinksparkl

#To Steer By #fic #Redacted ASMR #Redacted Audio #Starlit Fic #Redacted Avior #Redacted Starlight #Starlight OC #Redacted Caelum #Redacted Gavin #Redacted Scorpius #Redacted Vega

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bluejayblueskies · 3 years ago

Note

10 for the hug prompts with JonMartin? 🥺

touches prompt list

10 - hiding their face in the other’s neck

a no-fears au where jon and martin are in an established relationship! cw for nausea and a brief mention of vomiting (doesn't actually occur)

Jon doesn’t do roller coasters.

It is not, despite what Tim says when he thinks Jon isn’t listening, because he’s a, quote, ‘old man at heart’ and doesn’t know how to have fun. In theory, Jon is actually rather fond of roller coasters. He’d watched a documentary once about the design of them, and it had been rather fascinating.

It’s not because Jon doesn’t like roller coasters. It’s…

Well. It’s probably more accurate to say that roller coasters don’t like him. Specifically, his sense of equilibrium and his digestive system. Pills help somewhat, if he remembers to take them, but the fact of the matter is that he’s much more likely to leave the ride with a feeling of intense nausea than of exhilaration. He just… gets motion sick. No way around it. He always sits in the front seat of cars, ensures that he’s in a forward-facing train seat at all times, rarely travels by boat, and… avoids roller coasters.

The fact that he is currently standing in the queue for a particularly large and particularly frightening-looking roller coaster is not, therefore, due to his overwhelming love for them. It is instead entirely due to his overwhelming love for the man standing next to him, eyes bright and excited as he explains the history of this particular roller coaster. His hand is warm and soft in Jon’s, and their clasped hands swing absently back and forth as they slowly inch forward in the queue. His curls are a shock of auburn against the sky, and when he laughs and squeezes Jon’s hand, Jon forgets his anxiety entirely for a moment, lost in a wave of affection and fondness.

“—and because it’s the twenty-fifth anniversary of the ride,” Martin says with a wide grin, “it’ll be running backward today! Well, all season, I- I suppose, but we’re here today, so…”

Jon has never been on a roller coaster that’s traveled backward. It does… not sound appealing.

“That’s… very exciting,” Jon says with a smile, trying to make the words sound as genuine as possible. Because he is a coward. Or, perhaps, just very in love. Maybe both.

It’s just… Martin had been so excited when he’d dropped the amusement park tickets in front of Jon a few weeks ago. And in the four months or so that they’ve been dating, Jon has found it increasingly hard to say things that will cause that wide, unabashed smile on Martin’s face to dim even in the slightest. So Jon had discretely taken several motion sickness pills before they’d left that morning and had told himself that there were plenty of other things to do at an amusement park besides roller coasters and spinning rides and other things that make it their personal mission to tie Jon’s stomach into knots.

And then Martin had spent the entire train ride rambling about the various roller coasters and how he’d always wanted to go to an amusement park but he’d never been able to find the time or the money before and how he’s never been on a roller coaster but they look so fun, and Jon just… hadn’t been able to tell him.

It’ll be fine, he tells himself as they finally reach the front of the queue, the brightly colored cars sitting empty in front of them. It’ll be… completely, totally fine. Nothing to worry about.

They sit a few rows from the front. The click of the restraints makes Jon’s stomach squeeze with nerves, and he swallows around the lump in his throat. He doesn’t realize that he’s gripping the bar in front of him with white knuckles until Martin says gently, “Hey. Is… everything okay?”

No, but it’s certainly too late to change my mind now, Jon does not say.

“Yes,” Jon says, loosening his grip with considerable effort. It’s fine. “Just… b-been a while since I was on one of these.”

Technically not a lie.

“Oh!” Martin gives him a soft smile that makes his heart stutter in his chest. “Well, it’ll be a… new experience for both of us then, I suppose.”

The car jerks into motion, and Jon’s hands tighten instinctively on the bar again. It’s a… disconcerting effect, to be moving backward rather than forward, and one that Jon is decidedly not fond of. They exit the staging area and begin to climb up the first of the many, many hills Jon had eyed warily from their place in the queue. Jon looks straight ahead and does not look down and tries to breathe through his nose.

A warm hand covers his, and Jon looks over to see Martin watching him, that same soft smile on his lips. Martin squeezes gently, and Jon relaxes, just a fraction.

Then, the car tips over the peak of the hill and begins to accelerate, and Jon’s world blurs into a mess of colors and sensations.

The only part of the ride that Jon enjoys is the fact that it’s over quickly. By the time the car rolls to a halt—after a terrifying sequence of loops and drops and harsh curves and tight spirals—Jon feels as if his insides have been scooped out, stuffed in a washing machine, tumble dried, and then pushed back into him at all the wrong angles. Martin’s hand is still gripping his, somehow, and it remains there as they exit the car and make their way down the ramp and into the main thoroughfare. Jon’s legs feel boneless, like they’re made of jelly, and he is deeply afraid that if he opens his mouth, he is going to empty the contents of his stomach onto the pavement below.

Gentle hands are on Jon’s shoulders then, and Jon finds himself guided onto a metal bench just a few meters away from the exit ramp. Jon tries to protest that he’s fine—they have limited time here and he doesn’t need to take a break—but his stomach rolls and he pinches his lips shut before he manages to form a single word. When a hand settles on his upper back and presses down gently, he finally gives in to the urge to bend over and tuck his head between his knees in an effort to alleviate some of the lingering vertigo.

“Breathe, Jon,” Martin says, and Jon does. He takes a few deep breaths, and when a particularly powerful wave of nausea overtakes him, he can’t help the groan that escapes him. “I know,” Martin says softly, moving his hand in soothing circles on Jon’s back. “Just keep breathing, Jon. We can get some water in a bit, just… for now, let’s sit.”

Jon is too nauseous to be properly embarrassed by the coddling. That situation changes quickly as the minutes pass and Jon’s stomach begins to settle. After what must be nearly ten minutes, the nausea has faded entirely, but Jon keeps his head between his knees so he doesn’t have to look at Martin’s face.

“Feeling any better?” Martin prompts, and Jon lets out a slow breath. He nods once, and—with the help of Martin’s hand on his arm—straightens slowly, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the ground as he does so.

“Sorry,” he says, so quietly he isn’t sure Martin can hear him over the din of the crowd.

“You don’t have to apologize for- for feeling sick,” Martin says. He rubs a thumb against Jon’s arm and says, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I- I didn’t think… it would be this bad?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jon sees Martin give him a look that very clearly expresses his skepticism.

Jon sighs and puts his head in his hands again. “I just… didn’t want to disappoint you, I suppose.”

Martin is, of course, sharper than Jon gives him credit for sometimes. “Because I said I’d never had the chance to go on a roller coaster before?”

Jon nods miserably. “I-in my defense, I thought you would start with something significantly less… gravity-defying.”

“Jon,” Martin says, kindly and patiently yet with a chastising edge to it. “You could have waited by the exit.”

“I—I didn’t…” Jon feels the tips of his ears grow warm. “I didn’t want to leave you.”

“Oh,” Martin says, his voice pitched a touch higher than normal. “That’s… um, r-really sweet, actually.”

Jon is glad that Martin can’t see his face because he’s sure whatever expression would have crossed it just then would have been utterly sappy and mortifying.

“B-but I—I don’t want you to make yourself sick on my account,” Martin hastens to say. “There are loads of other things to do here. W-we don’t have to ride the roller coasters.”

Jon uncovers his face and looks at Martin. “But you want to ride the roller coasters.”

Martin worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he says, “I… also want to spend time with you, Jon. D-doing things we both want to do, not… not just me.”

Jon stares at Martin and thinks, not for the first time, that he loves him. But it’s still too early to say it, probably, and he’s certainly not going to do so sitting on a sticky metal bench surrounded by children and tired-eyed parents. So all he says, in the end, is, “If… if you’re sure.”

Martin takes Jon’s hand in his and squeezes gently. “I am.” Then, he gives Jon a wide, soft smile that has Jon’s stomach twisting all over again. “So. What do you do at amusement parks, then?”

Jon flushes. But Martin doesn’t laugh at him when he mumbles that he’s actually quite fond of carousels. Instead, he takes Jon’s hand and walks with him across the park—staying away from the more crowded sections, stopping to buy some horrendously overpriced bottles of water on their way—until they’re standing in front of the carousel, painted in lovely pastel blues and yellows.

Jon, for a moment, feels self-conscious and more than a bit childish. But then Martin squeezes his hand and says, without a hint of teasing, “So, what animal do you prefer?” and the tension in Jon’s shoulders melts away in an instant.

Jon learns that Martin likes the classic horses, manes painted gold and plastic saddles a bright cherry red. (And Martin is entirely unsurprised to find that Jon chooses the cat, every time.) He learns, as they continue to explore the amusement park, that Martin likes caramel apples but hates how they get stuck in his teeth. (He purchases one anyway, rolled in peanuts and little rainbow sprinkles, that gives Jon a toothache just looking at it.) He learns that Martin does not appreciate his explanation that the monsters on the haunted house ride are ‘just dummies’ and ‘obviously fake’ and ‘really, Martin, that’s not even the correct number of bones in a human skeleton.’ (Though he secretly treasures the way that Martin clings to his side in the car and hides his face in Jon’s neck, his curls tickling the sensitive skin just underneath Jon’s chin.)

And Martin, apparently, learns that Jon is strangely good at midway games.

“You know those things are totally rigged, right?” Martin says, staring at Jon in disbelief as he tries and fails to adjust his grip on the frankly enormous plush teddy bear the midway worker had begrudgingly surrendered to him. And the medium-sized plush cat he’d won earlier. And the dozen or so little plushies and trinkets and accessories he’d acquired along the way. “You’re not supposed to be able to win.”

“Yes, well.” Jon gives up on trying to find a comfortable way to carry his prizes and extends the massive teddy toward Martin. “I suppose I’m just… lucky.”

He is certainly not going to admit that he spent a good three days researching what to do on a carnival date, came to the conclusion that it would be romantic to win an enormous stuffed animal for Martin, and committed himself to memorizing which games were easiest to win and what strategies he should employ in order to have the best chance at success. That would be… well. A bit much, he thinks. Best to just… not mention it.

Martin carries the teddy all the way back to his flat, his cheeks flushing a lovely pink whenever an occasional curious glance is thrown in their direction. It’s only once they get there and Martin tries to pass the plushie back to Jon with a sheepish, “Suppose I better give this back now,” that Jon realizes he had… indeed not been very clear about his intentions.

“It’s… for you, actually,” Jon says, ignoring the way his cheeks are growing steadily warmer. Then, Jon takes a breath and pushes the rest of the plushies rather unceremoniously into Martin’s arms, save for the cat which he’s… grown rather attached to in their short acquaintanceship. “Th-they all are. Er. F-for you.”

“O-oh.” Martin looks down at the collection of brightly colored things in his arms, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. “I—I… really?”

Jon hugs the cat tightly to his chest, feeling something like embarrassment curl in his stomach. “I-if you don’t want them, I—I can—”

“No!” Martin says quickly, curling his arms protectively around the plushies. “I—I do. W-want them.” He looks down at the teddy sitting by his feet, then up at Jon with a warm, shy smile on his face. “Th-thanks, Jon.”

I love him, I love him, I love him.

Jon nods, pinches his lips together, and tries to keep his affection contained. He doesn’t want to come on too strong, after all. That’s… something he’s not meant to do, he thinks.

Then, when they’re both lying in bed and Martin’s chest is pressed against Jon’s back, his arm curled around Jon’s middle and his nose buried in Jon’s hair, Martin murmurs, “I love you,” and Jon’s breath catches in his throat.

“I… I love you too,” he whispers. And it’s such an easy thing to say that Jon wonders why he’d ever worried at all.

Martin makes a sleepy, contented noise, burrowing closer and wrapping Jon more tightly in his arms. And because he can—he can, he can, Martin said it first, so he can—Jon says again, so quietly he isn’t sure Martin can hear it: “I love you.”

The words are sweet on his tongue, like candy floss and funnel cakes and caramel apples.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #my writing #my fic #i know nothing about british amusement parks so if this is painfully american... forgive me #hawkfurze

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years ago

Text

Perfectly Fine

Prompt: Hi! I would love to read something from you featuring asexual Remus! - anon

it is project onto fictional characters hour my dudes

Read on Ao3

Warnings: discussions of the reality of being a sex-repulsed ace in a very allo world, nothing explicit

Pairings: none you heathens

Word Count: 1358

It takes them longer to figure it out than it should have and honestly, that’s on them.

But Remus is Remus, and that's perfectly fine.

It takes them longer to figure it out than it should have and honestly, that’s on them.

So it’s no secret that Remus’s particular sense of humor is equally as derived from what he finds funny and what makes the others the most uncomfortable. Logan did an analysis of it once and the results were 49%-51%. Which one is which varies but the quantities are incredibly consistent.

The trick is figuring out that the balance applies to Remus too.

And sure, the idea of Remus being uncomfortable is…difficult to remember sometimes, given that, you know, he’s Remus, but it’s there! It’s worth remembering! He’s a Side too! But considering his metric for ‘uncomfortable’ is wildly different from everyone else’s, it’s easy for them to overlook it. Maybe he gets some excitement out of grossing himself out too, maybe there’s a sick thrill in seeing just how close he can get himself to vomiting, honestly, who knows. Remus is Remus and that’s perfectly fine.

So here’s the big one that, again, took them way too long to figure out.

Remus is asexual. Not just asexual, sex-repulsed asexual.

Let’s reiterate: Remus is Remus and that’s perfectly fine.

It just…took them by surprise, is all.

“Wait,” Logan says, adjusting his glasses, “you’re asexual?”

“Those are the words I used,” Remus says, his head hanging off the couch.

“I—I heard you, I am…simply surprised,” Logan settles on, closing his notebook and setting it aside. “I would not have guessed that Thomas’s Sides would have different sexualities or romantic orientations.”

“What does it matter, Pocket Protector?”

“It doesn’t, it’s interesting to me.”

“Does that mean that all of us could potentially have different sexualities?” Patton’s head pokes above the counter as he digs for the good muffin tray—not the one Janus swiped three hours ago, of course not—in the cabinets. “Or no?”

Logan shrugs. “I imagine it would be possible, though I find it likely that at least some of us share Thomas’s.”

“My ears are burning,” Roman announces, plopping onto the couch next to his brother, “what incredibly gay thing are we talking about now?”

“Yeesh, Princey,” Virgil mutters, recovering from flinching horribly into the chair, “don’t do that, you scared the hell outta me.”

“Sorry, Virgil.” Roman taps Remus’s leg, hanging up over the back of the couch next to his head. “Why’re you upside-down?”

“Why’re you right-side up?”

“Remus…prompted a discussion on sexualities,” Logan says carefully, sparing a glance at Remus, “and we were debating the question of if we, as Thomas’s Sides, all have different sexualities.”

Remus kicks Roman in the head. “Told them I’m ace.”

“Oh, that makes more sense.”

“Really, and here I thought Remus beginning a complex introspective conversation was the height of character accuracy.”

“Payback,” Virgil sniggers as Roman startles horribly as Janus appears from behind the couch. “All jokes aside, I’m with L, I, uh, didn’t expect Remus to be ace.”

“Why not?”

Janus scoffs. “Couldn’t be the number of sex jokes you make on a daily basis, not at all.”

Remus shrugs.

“I think it’s just surprising considering how comfortable you are making the jokes, kiddo.”

“The fuck makes you think I’m comfortable with them?”

“Lang—what?” Patton’s head pops up again.

“A wild Patton appears!”

“Has Thomas…ever been interested in Pokémon?”

“What do you mean, comfortable?” Patton tilts his head, focused entirely on Remus and not the others making Pokémon jokes. “Are—are you not comfortable?”

“Remus isn’t exactly known for his ‘comfortable’ sense of humor, Padre,” Roman says, leaning back on the couch to make eye contact around Remus’s legs.

“But—but that—hold on.” Patton stands up—“ah! More Wild Patton!”—and puts his hands on the counter. “Remus, why would you make jokes that make you uncomfortable?”

Remus eyes him from upside-down. “Why does anyone do anything?”

“Sheer, absolute boredom, yeah, yeah, we get it,” Virgil sighs, “but it’s a good question, Remus.”

Remus just shrugs, only for it to dislodge him from his precarious position and slide toward the floor. Roman watches him collapse into a graceless heap and rolls his eyes, lying down on the couch.

“Hey! You stole my spot!”

“You’re the one who moved. Hey—!” Roman squawks in surprise as Remus throws himself on top of him. “You’re squishing me!”

“Too bad for you.”

“Remus,” Janus says softly, “are you…does sex make you uncomfortable?”

“Like maggots are crawling through my bones!”

The living room is quiet for a moment, enough to make Remus push himself up and stare around at them.

“What?”

“Sex isn’t something shameful, Remus,” Patton says patiently—and wow, isn’t that a surprise— “I promise.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “I know that, it just makes me want to rip all of my skin off and start over.”

“Why?”

“It’s bad enough I have to live in this meat sack,” he grouses, flopping back down and eliciting a soft ‘oof’ from Roman, “don’t need to be consciously reminded of it.”

“...‘meat sack?’”

“Oh, sorry, Lolo, ‘flexible container of mostly water.’”

“That’s not—well, yes, I suppose that is more accurate,” Logan says as he adjusts his tie, “but why would you choose to refer to your body as a meat sack?”

Remus shrugs. “’S not like I’d choose to be in this fucking thing. Evolution fucked up when it made us this way, at least we aren’t fucking horses. Oh, hey—“

“No,” Roman interrupts, “no jokes about that.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Remus?”

“What do you want, Snake-Face?”

“Are you…uncomfortable with your body?”

“Every day! It’s awful! I wish I didn’t have one!” At Janus’s muffled noise of heartbreak, Remus cranes his neck to look up at him. “Oh, relax, I’m fine, discomfort is part of my existence.”

“But it shouldn’t have to be.”

Remus huffs a sigh when he realizes that everyone else is looking at him with a similar amount of concern. Well, except Roman, but Roman gets it so that makes sense.

“I may or may not be being slightly dramatic, I am fine.”

“Can confirm,” Roman hums lazily, “comes with the Creativity gig.”

“Look, I just don’t like that it’s—it’s—“ Remus’s gaze lands on Patton— “look, Cookie Monster over there is allergic to cats, right?”

Logan frowns, glancing back and forth between them. “Yes, what does—“

“He’s not gonna die from it and he can still be around them, he’s just hyperaware of when there are cats and he can’t spend a lot of time around them without being really uncomfortable, right?”

Logan blinks in surprise. “Yes, I understand what you’re saying. Very clever analogy.”

“I am Creativity, you nitwit.”

He rolls his eyes fondly. “Of course.”

“So,” Virgil says cautiously, waving a hand at him, “you’re…good?”

“Yep. Goody-goody gumdrops, that’s me.”

“As long as you never say that again, fine.”

Roman gives him a hug. “I’m proud of you, Re, coming out is hard. Especially when you have to give people a vocabulary lesson when you do it.”

“Thanks, Ro-Bro.” Remus’s grin widens. “Does that mean I get to pick the movie for tonight?”

“What? No! It’s my pick! Hey! Hey!” Roman squeals as Remus starts to poke his belly. “Don’t! Dohohon’t!”

“Let me pick!”

“No!”

“Boys,” Janus sighs, reaching out and using his six arms to separate the twins, “that’s enough. Roman, what movie are we watching?”

“Pacific Rim.”

“Hey, wait, that’s what I was gonna pick!”

“See? There you go.”

Logan perks up immediately. “Does this mean we finally get to watch a movie with no romantic subplot?”

“And batshit physics.”

“We can overlook the batshit physics.”

“Whoa, L, what happened to you?”

“I…may have a greater appreciation for the cinematic depictions of the machinery.”

Patton just rolls his eyes and gets back to searching for the muffin pan. No movie night is complete without fresh baked goods. Ah, there it is, although he could’ve sworn he looked there a few moments ago…

Anyway, they end the conversation in the same place it started.

Remus is Remus, and that’s perfectly fine.

General Taglist:@frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734 @triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo @cerulean-watermelon @puffed-up-bees @meltheromanstan

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #ace #asexual #asexuality #sex-repulsed asexual

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presidentbungus · 3 years ago

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I’ve been working on this big halloween fic literally since I joined the fandom and I basically just didn’t write anything that was actually usable for 2 years but now. now I am making progress. I feel strong

anyway I think a total of like 7 people know what it’s about and vaguely because I refuse to sit down and write a whole big post about it. but I desperately want to share some so here’s a part im proud of as a little sneak peek:) you will not understand what’s going on and I think that’s funny. do not attempt to comprehend. enjoy

It takes Demo a second to connect the dots but something hits the brick right by his leg and he registers a gunshot—a sniper rifle.

Oh, god. For a second his mind scatters as he desperately looks for cover, leaps behind a row of crates and rests for a moment—god dammit, living target dummies and now there’s somebody else after them—and then another gunshot doesn’t come, and when he steels the courage to raise his head he looks across the field and sees a familiar gloved hand stretched out a window and waving across the other end of the field.

That bloody bastard. Demo’d be lying to say he isn’t relieved to see him alive, but—but still. Solly comes stumblin’ up after him, like he was just sitting still on the other end the whole damn time, and he must see Sniper cause he starts waving like a madman, and then he belts a nice clean “hello Sniper” across the horizon and Demo has to tackle him to the ground to stop him saying more.

“No,” he says, and he feels a little bad so he gets off Soldier and says: “I’m sorry. They can’t know where we are. We gotta be quiet.”

“… Understood.”

Quiet. That gives him an idea.

A few months ago Engie made everybody learn a bit of sign language, to make Pyro feel better about it and cause it’d be good to know anyway—lots of things are good to know anyway when it comes to Engie. Demo shakes Solly off him and gives Sniper a wave to catch his attention and signs: You okay?

It takes him a second of squinting to realize that he is not going to have an earthly idea what Sniper’s signing back to him, so he tacks on One gunshot is yes.

He does it two more times before a bullet lands in the sand in front of him, and he might make out a distant thumbs up, and it occurs to him there’s something else there—a little red dot with a black dot on top of it. Pyro. There’s another one, at least.

Another shot hits right by his foot, and he jumps back and looks at Soldier—whose hands are moving through sentences he could not dream of comprehending. Another shot, then two in a row, then one.

Demo grips his shoulder, stopping him for a moment. “What are you saying?”

“Good news,” Soldier says back, hands a blur. “They said we can go to them. They are safe, for the time being. And…” Another two shots. “They think your costume’s stupid.”

“What?”

“Pyro says it’s entirely historically inaccurate and the quality is garbage, anyway. I’m sorry to say this Tavish but I think they’re in the right here—“

“Where’d you learn to sign like that?”

Here Soldier kind of pulls his lip up, nostrils flaring like it’s the most obvious question he’s ever been asked. “Engie taught us,” he says, flatly. “Were you drunk?”

… Maybe at this point it’s best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Okay,” Tavish says, defeated. “Do they know what’s going on?”

Two shots. “No.” One shot. “They—Sniper’s leg is cardboard. Sitting ducks.” Tavish stares forlornly at the wall as it’s riddled with holes. “Pyro says your eyepatch historically would not have had a sequined skull and bones on it and they’re not even sure where you got that idea. And the hat’s even worse. It’s more of a—“

“It’s not meant to be accurate it’s meant to sparkle—and they’re yes or bloody no questions, where the hell are you getting this?”

“Well I’m asking a lot of questions.” This earns a punch to the side. “And we share a lot of opinions. And—“

Soldier keeps talking, but Tavish listens past it—something in the distance, small but unmistakeable. A “meem”. “Aw, cripe,” Tavish says—punching Solly in the stomach to shut him up. “Took too goddamn long.”

And of course it’s their bloody luck that the stupid cutouts can climb ladders—or something along those lines, cause Soldier turns around and punches the head right off a cardboard Medic and Tavish feels a little sick. A few feet away from him one gets a bullet right through the head and he watches it fall over—almost dead, for a second, until it just comes right back up like nothing happened. Tavish puts Solly in a headlock to stop him running away and getting more but it only buys him a little time—there’s only one ladder down from this section of the roof and it’s completely swarmed, and he crawls up to the edge and just sees soil.

Five seconds he goes oh, guess this is it, and to be honest he never thought he’d go out this way but Soldier wriggles out of his grip and Tavish catches something on his back—and as he ogles it it occurs to him Solly was just practicing rocket jumping before this happened, and—of course.

He grips Solly by the arm, desperate to maintain grip—watches the sleeve of his crappy job-issued uniform start tearing, and he gives one good bloody spin and keeps holding on don’t let go don’t let go don’t let go—and the momentum sends Solly careening over the edge, really bizarrely calm despite the circumstances (being: currently falling to death), and for a terrifying moment they spin through the air and Tavish can’t find the bloody pull and this time, this one, it’s over. They’re dead. They’re gonna hit the ground and respawn’s not gonna be up and they’ll be remembered as the two bloody idiots who decided it was a good idea to let themselves be cornered on a roof in the middle of an apocalypse—and Solly flips midair and hugs him tight, stomach-to-stomach instead of back-to-back, and something connects, and everything goes red. And even though every thought in his head flies out right here time slows down enough to find the cold little piece of plastic on the back and pull, and they draw their faces away from each other as the chute expands, and Tavish feels like he’s lost something.

They’re only caught in the air for just half a second before they land painfully in a pile of cloth and flesh—and for a second, ears ringing, it’s like he’s dead. Trapped under six thousand kilos struggling to breathe, too warm, bloody all over and so dark, but he feels hands grappling at his chest, pulling and pulling, and Soldier sits up on top of him and something cracks and the sun shines too warm on his face.

“I’m sorry for landing on you Tavish,” Solly says—Demo would reply if he were able to take a full breath. “Quick thinking, private. You deserve a medal.”

“Did we—“ his hands find Solly’s chest, feeling along the tear on his sleeve, trying to find the breath and the words for whatever he’s going to say. It’s there and it isn’t. Cigar smoke, maple, something sweet he’s not able to place. “Solly, I—did we just—“

“Did we what?” Jane’s expression reads the same oblivion as always, or at least that’s what Tavish hopes he sees. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s… nothing. We should get going. Thank you, Jane.”

As Soldier helps him up something feels profoundly wrong—like there was something else he was supposed to do here.

Instead, he just says: “Let’s go find Sniper, huh?” and Jane whoops, and Demo decides he will just try not thinking from now on.

#boots n bombs #tf2 soldier #tf2 demoman #tf2 sniper #tf2 pyro #bungus snippets #tf2 #slaps demoman this bad boy can fit so much ANGUISH AND DENIAL

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sttngfashion · 4 years ago

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5.26 and 6.1 - Time’s Arrow

Oh my god. Y’all. It’s a new Fashion It So post. In the year of our Picard 2020. Yes.

For literal years, Charlie and I have been like UGH WE NEED TO DO TIME’S ARROW PARTS 1 AND 2 BUT IT’S JUST SUCH A MONSTER.

Well, I’m doing a complete rewatch of the series with my partner and we just got to these two, so IT IS TIME.

We open in a cave in San Francisco, where Data and Picard are checking something out:

Rent for the cave is $6,000 per month

Showing them around is this guy in a Science Outfit:

He’s ready to go night biking

We’ve seen this look before in both Silicon Avatar and Devil’s Due, and it’s functional, yet cute. Basically a windbreaker in jumpsuit form.

They find a couple of items in the cave, including a pocket watch from 1889 and also:

I left my head in San Francisco

IT’S DATA’S HEAD!!! And it’s been there for FIVE HUNDRED YEARS. What could have caused this? And why is Data’s head so absolutely terrifying?

Is that fondant

This head is, in a word, haunting. The 2020 of heads.

Data and Geordi chat in Ten-Forward about what the presence of Data’s head in the cave means. Data says it means he’s mortal; that someday he will die, and that’s comforting. Spoiler alert: that’s not what it means. But it’s a nice conversation.

Also, Guinan is here!!!

Merlot My God!!

Or maybe: Burgundy-lightful!! Or perhaps: De-Crimson-alize Sex Work!! Okay that last one was a stretch but I really think I missed my calling as a nail polish shade namer.

Anyway, she’s here in her classic look of a pizza-sized hat and a flowing gown/coat/top/robe. The collar here is a little too close to a mock turtleneck for my liking and honestly - this is a little staid for our friend Guinan. I want a TEXTURE or a SWEEP or some WIDE RIBBING or some PLEATS. Don’t worry, though...she will get plenty more later.

Then there’s some plot which frankly we DO NOT HAVE TIME to get into but let’s just say: the away team goes to a planet, there’s a temporal disturbance, and Data ends up here:

Huge mood

Where are we? Or should I say WHEN are we??

Well that old-timey font is a good clue...also the horse

Are we in the Old West land of an off-brand Disneyworld? Are we going to ride something called Large Lightning Mesa Train Tracks? What colorful characters will we meet here?

Winner of 1893’s Mustache Medal

This type of ‘stache is called a Fu Manchu, after the character Dr. Fu Manchu. It’s not...a great look? But it is memorable, which is sometimes enough. He’s also wearing a simple black cap, probably made of silk. He’s keeping it cazh.

So where are we?

SAN FRANCISCO, OPEN YOUR GOLDEN GATE / YOU’LL LET NOBODY WAIT / OUTSIDE YOUR DOOR

Yes, it’s San Francisco. And it’s *eyes popping out of head like a cartoon wolf seeing a busty babe* 1893!!!! That temporal disturbance was...disturbing.

So who else do we have hanging out?

Please check out our Vaudeville act, Knit Cap ‘n’ Bowly

These dudes understand those famous Bay Area MICROCLIMATES, amirite? We’ve got a Henley. We’ve got a buttondown. We’ve got a vest. We’ve got a coat. No matter which way the thermometer decides to go, THEY ARE READY. Also loving the pop of forest green on Knit Cap’s knit cap.

We also have a 49er:

No, it’s not Steve Young. I googled “famous 49ers” to complete this joke so if there is a more famous 49er please let me know

It’s a literal 49er. Since it’s 1893, this guy’s been hanging around in town for a while, and he’s also familiar with the layering techniques one must master if one is to conquer the Bay Area’s climate. He also has a kicky Colonel Sanders-type tie. He asks Data for money and gives him a few panhandling tips. He’s chill. We like him. But don’t get too attached if you know what I mean!!!!

Data decides he needs somewhere to stay, so he finds a hotel:

Brian.

Why is this so funny to me. Brian. Why would you name your hotel Brian. Brian!!!! I know it’s a last name but like...Brian. HOTEL BRIAN.

This bellhop’s name is not Brian:

Where’s your hat, bro

He’s giving us a classic bellhop look, complete with too many buttons. He gives Data the very important information that there’s a poker game happening in the back of the hotel, which means: Data is about to be RICH rich.

The poker game includes a few good looks:

Louie Anderson IS Wolverine IN a Lands’ End barn coat

Two plaids? Sir...I salute you

Colonel Sanders Goes to Carnaval

Data, of course, wipes the floor with them so hard that he wins their clothes:

Didn’t get that barn coat tho

Yes, that’s the actual vest and the actual hat of those guys from the previous scene. Oh, I love it. I love Data in a vest over his uniform and I love Data with a feather in his cap. Let’s call it macaroni.

Meanwhile, out on the street, the plot is happening:

Beige: inescapable

This is our first taste of the decadent 1890’s sleeves that appear in this episode, and these aren’t even the best sleeves!! These are an amuse-bouche of sleeves. An armuse-bouche, if you will.

Anyway, these two are aliens disguised as humans who are here to steal the 49er’s life energy.

Pew pew pew

I told you not to get attached!!!

Back on the Enterprise, Guinan is doing mixology:

She would never call it something as stupid as mixology though

She tells Picard that he needs to go check out the temporal disturbance, too, even though captains don’t normally go on away missions, and then she gives him this look:

It’s that serious

When Guinan looks at you like this, you do what she says.

Now this outfit is much better than the earlier one. We have some pleated sleeves, which I didn’t even think was a thing you could DO. We have some sort of functional(?) strap(??) across the front. We even have matching fingerless gloves which always make a look A LOOK. And if Picard wasn’t sure whether he needed to go on this away mission, she then gives him THIS look:

Okay now it’s REALLY serious

Back in 1893, Data is making something:

It’s actually just a really complicated and large music box that plays “I Left My Head in San Francisco”

He’s gotten his hands on some more period-appropriate clothing, including a bow tie and a vest. Since he’s not wearing arm garters and his sleeves appear to be the correct length for his arms, we can conclude that the shirt was custom-made, not ready-made, because Data is now a baller due to his poker earnings.

Then, Data sees this in the paper:

I know her!! From work!!!!

Yes, it’s Guinan. In 1893. In a hat!!!!

We cut to the literary reception, which is honestly not as well-attended as I thought it would be, considering it got a GIANT photo of Guinan on page THREE of the paper, but okay. And who should we spy there but:

You’ll love my secret blend of 11 herbs and spices

No, it’s not Colonel Sanders. (Sorry, I really have Colonel Sanders on the brain because of that Lifetime movie.) It’s Samuel Clements, AKA Mark Twain. I had an English teacher in high school who explained the origin of his pseudonym (it indicates a mark of two fathoms, aka twelve feet, on a steamboat) and for some reason she shouted MAAAARK TWAAAAAIN when she told us that story so now her delivery of that line is in my head until I die I guess.

Anyway, it’s Mark Twain.

He’s wearing his iconic white linen suit with a black bow tie, and he’s also wearing a lot of prosthetics, because the actor playing him (Jerry Hardin, AKA Deep Throat from The X-Files AKA Melora Hardin AKA Jan Levinson-Gould’s dad) (was that too many AKAs) (you get it, right?) didn’t look enough like Mark Twain, I guess? In conclusion: what if eyebrow wigs were a thing?

Twain is having a chit chat with “Madame Guinan,” who is wearing what can only be called a sumptuous gown:

It’s 11:30 and the gown is sumptin’ sumptin’

There are so many ELEMENTS to this look! First of all: the color. Royal purple. Fit for a queen. Appropriate.

Then: those sleeves! These sleeves are known as “leg of mutton sleeves” because they KIND OF look like a leg of mutton. Have you ever seen a leg of mutton? I haven’t. I’ve only seen these sleeves. Plus they have a stripe?? No, I don’t know why, but I LOVE IT.

The cuffs and the cravat bring this from “dress” to “lewk.” Top it all off with this hat and you have a true 1893 mood.

What bird is that feather even from

We get a few good extra looks in this scene as well:

Pink Lady is NOT wearing a corset

Look, sometimes you don’t have enough period-appropriate undergarments for all the background people and that’s fine. But I WILL notice.

Is that Loretta Lynn

I am loving all of this! That purple dress is fantastic, those stripes? I die. Military man has some fun flair on his shoulder, and there is a dude in a beautiful turban back there. Plus, another Black lady in addition to Guinan and That One Ensign Who Is On The Bridge Sometimes.

Data rolls in to the literary event in a different suit with a CRAVAT:

Craving a cravat

Data is like “we serve together on the same starship in the 24th century” and Guinan is like “huh” but then she’s like “okay” which...I’m not sure if I would believe that? But let’s just say it’s fine.

Over in the 24th century, the literal entire bridge crew is checking out the temporal disturbance and I DON’T LIKE THIS AT ALL:

Blue Man Group...on ACID

These beings are like ghosts but also like Dr. Manhattan but also like pure energy.

Then everyone goes through the temporal disturbance AND THE SEASON ENDS.

Fortunately for you, this post will continue...right now.

Okay, so we’re back in San Francisco in 1893. You can tell by the horses:

Also the fruit carts

Samuel Clemens is strolling around with a reporter, telling him that he has a great story for him that involves time travelers and, like, protecting the nation.

Here’s the thing about this episode’s version of Mark Twain: he’s kind of a dick. Was the real Mark Twain kind of a dick? I just feel like Mark Twain should be JAZZED about meeting time travelers and not acting like a fuckin’ time cop* and trying to put the Enterprise crew on blast.

Anyway I love his double-breasted vest.

See my vest

The reporter’s hat is technically period-accurate, but that style is SO associated with the 1930s-1950s that I would have gone with something else. He looks cute though.

Meanwhile, Data is wearing a three-piece suit:

My positronic olfactory synapses are interpreting something as...a fart

I hate brown, but this is fine.

Additionally, the beige baddies from before are back and this time, they’ve got a SNAKE CANE:

Love the snake cane, hate how they suck the life out of people

But we are not here for them, we are here to see our faves in period clothing. Our first look is at Riker, who is dressed as an actual cop, not a time cop like Mark Twain:

The past just had...so many buttons

I guess if you’re a time-traveling white man there are worse disguises than a cop. But WHERE DID HE GET THIS UNIFORM? I choose to believe that he found a cop with a similar large handsome body to his own and beat the shit out of him and stole his clothes. Now we can all enjoy imagining a cop being beat up.

The badge that Riker is wearing is a great historical detail; the SFPD started wearing them in 1886 and are reportedly the first law enforcement agency to have worn the seven-pointed star, which is now a common shape among sheriff’s departments across the United States.

But let’s move on to a better look: Dr. Beverly Crusher:

Curlz MT

Okay, now I have more questions. Beverly obviously wouldn’t beat someone up for their clothes, so where did SHE get HER outfit? And who did her hair? Did she do her OWN hair? Where did she get a curling iron? Does she know how to use a curling iron? Was it one of those ones that’s actually made of iron that you have to heat up in a fireplace?

We will get answers to zero (0) of these questions.

We actually get a much better look at her dress later, so let’s focus on that cloak!!! I love it and I also love her hat. Okay, I guess I had less to say about those than I thought.

Bev and Will, along with the rest of the officers, have somehow procured a room/apartment in some lady’s lodging house. It’s cute!

They gave it 5 stars on AirBnB

This also raises questions. How did they get this room? How many bedrooms does it have? Are they sharing one large bed? If so, who has to sleep crossways at the foot of the bed and why is it Geordi? We will get zero answers to these questions as well, so let’s move on to arguably the hottest costume in this two-parter:

I’ll be in Holodeck 4

Whewwwwwww. He’s giving us a rolled sleeve. He’s giving us a casual tweed vest. The pants? They’re perfect. And he KNOWS how that slouch is working. It’s working VERY well. But the Irish landlady? She’s having NONE OF IT.

Absolutely NO nonsense

She needs the rent, but Picard charms her and she leaves. So I guess that’s how they got the room. Her look is knitwear-forward:

Eileen Fisher does sound like an Irish name

She’s got a shawl AND a cardigan! The cozy factor is OFF THE CHARTS. She also has a brooch, because a touch of fancy is always welcome. I will say that her hair is a little more fashion-forward than I’d expect for a woman of her age and station. This is straight up 1890s hair, and she would probably still be rocking an 1860s look, which isn’t as sweepy and would likely involve more braids. Still, she looks lovely.

Geordi is also here looking dapper:

Make the collar as high as you can. I want to be sliced open by my own collar

You CAN go wrong with a three-piece suit, but it’s difficult to. He can’t wear his visor, so he has some kicky shades which we’ll get a better look at in a sec.

Back at the Hotel Brian (lol), the bellboy (who we learn in this scene is Jack London, inspired to be a writer by Mark Twain [citation needed]) lets Mark Twain into Data’s room and allows him to look around unsupervised. This is very bad hotel management.

Great Scott

Then Data and Guinan show back up, and Mark Twain hides in an armoire.

One short day in the emerald brocade

I think one reason I love Guinan’s looks so much, both in the 24th and the 19th century, is that our color palette is very similar. We’re both winters. Bold jewel tones are the vibe. This one is in a beautiful deep green fabric with what looks like a velvet flocking pattern on it. The collar is also velvet, and I love that sleeve with a flounce on top like there wasn’t already enough fucking fabric on the sleeve so they just added a random piece to be like “yes, bitch. I’m a sleeve.”

Naturally, the hat is also jaunty af:

San Francisco’s hottest milliner is: Madame Guinan

This hat has everything: feathers, netting, a brim, an angle that makes you think it’s going to fall off but it doesn’t. We stan.

Meanwhile, Picard is setting up a sensor in a hospital while wearing a hat:

I’m bowled over

We haven’t even asked where Picard got these clothes, but I would like to point out that he’s dressed as a lower-class guy, while Riker is a cop, and Geordi looks like a gentleman. Was there even a discussion they all had about how they would disguise themselves? Was Picard like “I just really want to wear a beat-up bowler hat” and since he’s the captain, they extrapolated from there? This episode is NOT CONCERNED about any of this. They all have clothes, end of story.

Bev even has TWO outfits!!

Hello nurse!!!!

I love this look. She still has her unlikely hairstyle happening, which means her nurse’s cap is sitting atop her voluminous hairstyle. (Not very practical, but realistic!) She’s sporting a simple striped dress and a button-on apron. (Look closely and you can see the two buttons holding the apron to the dress.) The fabric underneath might be cotton seersucker, but it’s likely a lightweight cotton or linen twill. You can see how closely her look matches these nurses from a similar time period:

Hello nurses!!!!

Deanna is also in this scene and this episode, but you wouldn’t know it from what she’s given to do. HUGE SHOCKER: TROI NOT GIVEN ENOUGH TO DO IN AN EPISODE. 🙃

She still looks beautiful:

Why aren’t capelets more popular

We never get a really GREAT look at her whole outfit, but I can tell you that it has a capelet, it’s in the red family, and the hat has a lot of business going on. For those reasons: approved. It has a flounce in the back too:

More fabric = more wealth

Sometimes I think about just how much fabric it took to make these old-timey dresses and I’m like...how did anyone get anything done?? It takes me like 4 weeks to finish a pair of leggings and those have like 5 seams and I own a serger. These historical bitches were sewing whole ass dresses in no time at all.

Okay, so Bev is in this hospital and here come some more energy-stealing aliens, disguised as healthcare professionals this time:

I cannot take a medical professional wearing a LIGHT BROWN TOP HAT seriously, sorry

Bev AND this energy-stealing alien have BOTH managed to get their hands on the SAME nurse’s uniform?? I guess in the case of the alien, she is a shape-shifter, so she got her clothes from...that. And her hair.

I hate this light brown top hat. If you’re going to wear a top hat, don’t DISRESPECT IT by making it BROWN, but if you’re going to make it brown, make it a good brown, like chocolate. Stupid energy-stealing aliens.

There’s a skirmish, the energy-stealing aliens disappear, and the real cops show up:

MOUSTACHE

Of course, the cops showing up is bad, because when has a cop showing up ever made a bad situation better? Never. Defund the police, but don’t defund handlebar mustaches. Those can stay.

Fortunately, Data has gotten a ping on that machine he was building before and shows up on a motherfucking HORSE:

Brent just wanted to show off

He’s back in his brown striped suit and red tie. Okay.

Everyone returns to the boarding house to suss out the situation, and we get a look at what Riker is rocking underneath his cop jacket:

Suspend me daddy

You can see very clearly here how the collar is not actually attached to the shirt. This was a thing people in the olden days did so they could wear their shirt for multiple days in a row and just switch out the collar and cuffs so they looked clean. As someone who is wearing the same sweatshirt for the third day in a row, I support this method. (If you’re interested on more info about collars, here is a very enjoyable article about them.)

We are also blessed with a better look at Deanna’s sleeves and bodice:

Black lace cuffs? Decadent!!!

You can also see Geordi’s shades, which suit him really nicely. One thing I’ve been enjoying on this rewatch is just how well LeVar Burton can act without having his eyes visible. He’s great. Let’s just all think about how great LeVar Burton is for a second

And also Bev’s dress:

I legitimately want this dress

I don’t think those buttons are functional. Can you imagine how annoying THAT would be? But I am absolutely in love with this dress. Two paisleys, Beverly???? A goddess. I’m also dying for that brooch with the chain. A+ look all around, great work.

Finally, FINALLY, Guinan meets the rest of the crew:

When you meet someone you won’t actually know for 500 years

She is wearing a hat that looks like a toilet paper cozy. Did your grandma have one of these? They’re so stupid and I love them so much.

Picard and Guinan meet for what is the first time for her, but not the first time for him, and honestly it is...sensual?????

If I got a m’lady from P. Stew I wouldn’t even mind

Patrick and Whoopi truly do some nice work in this ep. But we are here to yell about clothes, so: LOOK AT THIS DRESS ON AN EXTRA:

Gimme dat dress

I just want that dress to wear around my house. I legitimately bought an 18th century costume dress to do just that, so don’t think I won’t literally do this.

OKAY, WE ARE ALMOST TO THE END.

The crew, plus Guinan, go back to the cave where this all started:

Cave Club, the only club that meets in a cave

We get a nice look at the bodice of Guinan’s dress here and guess what: MORE BUTTONS. Buttons on the lapels, and also buttons on the front panel with the pointy top. I wonder if she has multiple front panels for that dress in different colors, like a Swatch watch.

Unbeknownst to them, Mark Twain followed them!! Then there’s a scuffle with the energy-stealing aliens during which a few things happen:

Data’s head flies off

Mark Twain gets sucked into the temporal disturbance

Guinan gets hurt

Picard stays behind to make sure Guinan is okay

So we end up with Mark Twain on the Enterprise, where he sees Worf, and he’s like:

Buh-WHAT

Worf is also confused:

This is...extremely perplexing

We have a few more looks back on the Enterprise, including Regular Guinan:

ShoulderSpreads™: The Bed Spread for Your Shoulders

I love love LOVE this outfit. The color is perfect, the shoulderspreads are perfect, the front draping is perfect. It looks like a velvet housedress from the 1960s except FANCY which is kind of my ideal aesthetic. And it’s red (my fave).

We get a quick glimpse at the barber uniform:

Bitch let me pass, idc if you wrote Huck Finn

This barber does. not. give. a. fuck!!!!

Geordi reattaches Data’s head, the one they already had, which means this whole thing was a ding dang closed loop. The reattachment also kind of diminishes the whole conversation they had earlier about how Data’s head in the cave meant that Data could die someday, because...he didn’t. He still might, but his head is back and he’s fine now.

Meanwhile, Picard is still back in 1893 and they have to go get him, but only one person can come back through the temporal disturbance, so Mark Twain is like “duh I’ll go get him.”

And finally Guinan and Picard can talk about how their friendship spans 500 years!!!!

Hey girl

Hey

YOU’RE WELCOME

*abolish the police

#SEASON 5 #SEASON 6 #TNG #TNG FASHION #STAR TREK #STAR TREK FASHION

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365days365movies · 4 years ago

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March 21, 2021: Orlando (1992)

Tilda Swinton...confuses me.

Like, in a good way. Because Tilda may be the most versatile actor working today. I mean, look at the goddamn filmography, and you’ll see what I’ve mean. I’ve seen Tilda Swinton in a lot, surprisingly, and I don’t think anything I’ve seen was bad. For example, I am an ARDENT defender in the portrayal of the Ancient One in the MCU.

I understand the controversy here, but I actually think this is excellent casting. Especially considering...being comic book-accurate would NOT have been a good idea with this role, if we’re trying to AVOID controversy. But Tilda Swinton FUCKING KILLED IT in this role, and I will always be happy for this choice.

Let’s see, there’s Jadis in the Narnia films, as shown at the top, there’s Snowpiercer, as Mason (an amazing character, and an acting job that Swinton disappears into), Moonrise Kingdom as Social Services, The Grand Budapest Hotel as Madame D., and Gabriel in Constantine. Which is a good segue to the next talking point...

Gabriel is pointedly androgynous, and honestly, Tilda Swinton kind of is as well. You may have noticed that I haven’t used any pronouns in referencing to Tilda Swinton, entirely out of respect. Gonna be a little hard to keep up with, so I’ll be using she/her from here on out, only because those are the pronouns that Swinton’s most recently promoted for herself. She’s also referred to herself as queer of some variety, as well as being famously gender non-conforming.

Which is fitting, given that a lot of that public image began with today’s movie, one of her first big roles. I’ll be revisiting Swinton in the independent movie scene in a couple of months, but this may be a good introduction. Instead of spoiling anything off the bat, I’m gonna jump right in. And so, I present: Orlando. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

We begin with a young man named, well, Orlando (Tilda Swinton), a young man with a feminine appearance and a good upbringing. His name means power land and property, but all he really wants is company. He writes and rests by a tree in the day, but falls asleep by mistake. When he wakes up, he runs back to where he’s meant to be, with a tribute to Queen Elizabeth I (Quentin Crisp) playing in the background. And that’s a REAL song, by the way, actually sung in the 1600s for Elizabeth! Very neat.

A title screen flashes, reading “1600: Death”, and we see where Orlando is meant to be. He speaks poetry for the Queen and her court, but is interrupted by the aged queen, who asks whether or not his poem is appropriate for her presence, as the poem is about youth, and Queen Elizabeth is not that. Orlando’s father (John Bott), who is serving as host to Elizabeth, intervenes on his behalf. However, it doesn’t seem to matter to the Queen, as she invites Orlando back to England to serve as her “favourite”. He accepts, and soon lives alongside the Queen. She quickly promises Orlando much land and property, for him and his heirs, but on one condition: that he does not fade, wither, or grow old.

The same wish cannot be applied to Elizabeth herself, nor to his father, as both grow old and die soon afterwards. Fast forward 10 years, and it’s a cold winter in England. Visiting Orlando’s vast estate is a woman from Russia, named Sasha (Charlotte Valandrey), and Orlando quickly falls for her. This is to the dismay of Euphrosne (Anna Healy), his fiancée? I’m not sure, to be honest, but they’re definitely involved, and she’s definitely upset.

However, this is also a scandal for everybody else as well, not just because Orlando’s already engaged, but also because Sasha is Russian, during a particularly poor economic period for the country. Euphrosne angrily throws his ring back at him, and Orlando speaks directly to the audience, telling us that a man must follow his heart. The two go to his private cottage, and they start to make out, when Orlando suddenly comes down with intense melancholy.

Because this is such great happiness that he feels, but this happiness too will one day end. Which is, like, the most emo-shit I’ve ever heard, but I’m kinda here for it. And yet, that happiness does indeed end, when Sasha is forced to return to Russia, despite Orlando’s pleading for her to stay. He asks her to meet him at London Bridge, so that they may elope together.

Later, Orlando happens upon a performance of Othello, noting to us that it’s a terrific play. This is as the death of Othello is being played out, so that’s probably foreshadowing, right? Anyway, Orlando leads two horses through the thick fog, waiting for Sasha to arrive and come away with him. But as a storm sets in, there is no sign of Sasha. And Orlando stands there in the rain. Said rain, though, soon becomes ice, underneath his feet, floating away down the river, along with his hopes of a happy future with Sasha. The treachery of women, according to Orlando.

Over the next week, Orlando languishes in his bed, asleep for the entire time. Increasingly more servants are brought up to try and rouse him, only for him to remain asleep, no matter what they do. But then, he wakes up, noting that he can only conjure three words to describe women, none of them worth explaining.

Forty years later, and the title screen cries “Poetry”! And Orlando looks exactly the same. Guess he really took that whole “don’t grow old” thing from Elizabeth to heart, huh? He speaks to a poet, Nick Greene (Heathcote Williams), and gushes about his poetry, which is a pursuit that he loves greatly. But Nick is...well, Nick is kind of a dick, to be honest. Orlando wants only to share his love and his poetry with him, but Nick’s only in it for the money. Not a true artist, and he mocks Orlando’s poetry, which he reads only after Orlando offers him money. And then, he writes a poem mocking Orlando further, which angers Orlando...but doesn’t stop the money flowing to Nick.

Orlando moves onto his next pursuit, in 1700, in the next section: Politics. Now over 100 years old, Orlando becomes an ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, and travels to Constantinople. There, he receives a somewhat rough and awkward greeting, which Orlando is not helping with. They share some Turkish coffee, Orlando has trouble drinking that Turkish coffee, they drink a LOT of Turkish coffee, and they toast to multiple things, including the “beauty of women, and the joys of love.” Orlando pauses at this, and reveals that he is still suffering quite a bit of heartbreak. His Turkish friend, the Khan (Lothaire Bluteau), bonds with him about this.

After 10 years, Orlando has fully retreated into life as a Turkish man. This is interrupted by a British emissary, sent to bring him news of a new appointment and power from the Queen. However, something goes wrong when the Khan arrives and takes Orlando hostage. The city is under attack, and the Khan asks Orlando if he will help against their enemies. Orlando agrees, and gives them arms, and heads to help himself at the walls. There, he witnesses a man dying, and it shakes him greatly. And just like before, he sleeps it off for seven days. And then...she wakes up.

YUP. WHAT.

Yeah, um, Orlando is now a woman. Like she says: “Same person, just a different sex.” Which is a very interesting premise, not gonna lie. Looks like Orlando now has to live life as a woman, which is going to be...difficult in 1700s Turkey. Or England. Or anywhere. Or any time.

Still, Orlando approaches this new life with aplomb, and without really any needed caution. Parading in some awesome dresses, she greets fellow nobility as the lady Orlando. However, the emissary from earlier, Archduke Harry (John Wood), begins to recognize her as similar to the lord Orlando.

In speaking with a group of poets, however, Orlando learns EXACTLY what men think of women in this society, and it’s not even a little bit good. She leaves, enraged and embarrassed. Harry also speaks with her, assuming that she was a woman all along. However, Orlando’s in EVEN MORE shit, as she’s quickly served with papers that are an attempt to take away all of her property and titles, because Lord Orlando is legally dead, and Lady Orlando is a woman, which one of them says is basically the same thing. FUCKIN’ YIKES, BRUV.

Ah, but Harry tries to help by proposing to her ON THE FUCKIN’ SPOT. He believed that Orlando was perfect as both genders, and is happy to do it. However, Orlando understandably refuses, and after Harry tells her that she will die as a spinster, alone and dispossessed, she runs into a nearby hedge maze. And while in the hedge maze, time passes, and her outfit changes to match the period accordingly.

Forward 140 years now! The year is 1850, and a new chapter begins: Sex.

And as she runs from the maze, she runs into who else...but Shelmerdine (Billy Zane), a man who...Shelmerdine? SHELMERDINE? What fuckin’ witch cursed his entirely family line to have THAT name? That’s the kind of family that was named AFTER a bridge, not the other way around! WHAT KINDA NAME IS FUCKIN’ SHELMERDINE?

Well, I’ve looked it up now, and it is apparently a real name. So, if any Shelmerdines are reading this...I mean, I’m sorry, but also, FUCKIN’ SHELMERDINE? OK, back to Shelmerdine. He’s twisted his ankle falling off his horse, and Orlando is now taking care of him. She reveals, in the process, that she’s about to lose everything. The reasons for that aren’t quite said, but Shelmerdine offers a place at his side, back to the great free land of America.

After having a conversation about the roles of men and women in the world (which is interesting given the context of the film in general), the two fulfill the chapter’s imperative. And we never see the act, but we do get some interesting angles and hand-holding. But the next morning, this post-coital reverie is interrupted by the lawyers from the Queen. The lawsuits have been settled, and Orlando has been legally declared a woman, meaning that unless she has a son, all of her possessions will be lost.

Shelmerdine (I swear, every time I say that name, a fairy gets chlamydia) leaves as well, with the southwest wind. As he heads back to America to fight for freedom, Orlando stands in the rain, facing an uncertain future, and broken fully by the politics of the time period.

And then...the sound of planes overhead. Looks like a new time period once again, heading into the periods of World Wars, and Orlando is now...heavily pregnant. OH. FUCK. Welcome to the next chapter: Birth.

We jump past the period of World War II, and to the 1990s! Orlando is presenting a book to a publisher, and he believes that the book will sell. With her young daughter in tow, she finally goes back to her old mansion, now finally able to go back after losing it 100 years prior. The narration from the beginning repeats, recontextualized for Orlando’s new life. She is over 400 years old, and finally, FINALLY...she is happy.

youtube

And that’s Orlando! I think I loved it. Real talk, this was a fascinating movie, and I’m into it. I’m very much into it. I’m sure there’s more to be gleaned from this film, but I’m glad I watched it regardless. More in the Review, though! See you there!

#orlando #orlando 1992 #sally potter #tilda swinton #billy zane #lothaire bluteau #john wood #virginia woolf #orlando film #fantasy march #user365 #365 movie challenge #365days365movies #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #mygifs #my gifs

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mercuryonparklane · 4 years ago

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Since Taylor released “You All Over Me” last night and also posted the “Love Story” remix lyric video that includes a group picture with Emily in it, I am reposting this from my other blog (because at the time I posted it my other blog was too new to show up in the tags). I’m not necessarily saying that YAOM is about Emily...

Anyway, here is a post about “Breathe” and how it is the only Grammy nominated song of Taylor’s that she has performed just once:

Prior to Lover Taylor had 9 Grammy nominated songs (that appeared on her own records): “You Belong With Me”. “White Horse”, “Breathe”, “Mean”, “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together”, “Begin Again”, “Shake It Off”, “Blank Space”, and “Bad Blood”.

According to Taylor herself, despite multiple requests from fans over the years, she has only sung “Breathe” live one time. She performed it for the first and, so far, only time on August 18, 2018 during her reputation Stadium Tour show in Miami.

I decided to compare this to how many times she has sung her other Grammy nominated songs (I chose not to include anything from Lover or folklore because she obviously hasn’t had the opportunity to perform those songs as she normally would):

(Disclaimer: the data related to the number of times Taylor has played each song comes from setlist.fm, so it may not be 100% accurate, but it is close enough to demonstrate the purpose of this post)

“Breathe”

Date of release (as a single): October 23, 2008

# of times Taylor has performed this song live in total: 1

“White Horse”:

Date of release (as a single): December 9, 2008

# of times Taylor has performed this song live in total: 137

“You Belong With Me”

Date of release (as a single): April 26, 2009

# of times Taylor has performed this song live in total: 381

“Mean”

Date of release (as a single): March 13, 2011

# of times Taylor has performed this song live in total: 196

“We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together”

Date of release (as a single): August 13, 2012

# of times Taylor has performed this song live in total: 272 (that # includes 1 time she performed the song as a mashup with “Bad Blood” and 53 times as a mashup with “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things”)

“Begin Again”

Date of release (as a single): October 1, 2012

# of times Taylor has performed this song live in total: 75

“Shake It Off”

Date of release (as a single): August 18, 2014

# of times Taylor has performed this song live in total: 189

“Blank Space”

Date of release (as a single): November 10, 2014

# of times Taylor has performed this song live in total: 166

“Bad Blood”

Date of release (as a single): May 17, 2015

# of times Taylor has performed this song live in total: 141 (that # includes the 53 times she performed the song as a mashup with “Should’ve Said No”)

As you can see, there is a pretty glaring disparity between the number of times she performed the other 8 songs live compared to the 1 time she performed “Breathe” live.

The song was released as a promotional single in the lead up to the release of Fearless, but wasn’t really a main single. It never had a music video, which means that it was probably never meant to be pushed for the charts. Although, it did spend one week on the Billboard Hot 100 chart, peaking at #87 on the week ending November 29, 2008, following the release of Fearless.

The song was co-written with Colbie Caillat, who also features on the track. Colbie was fairly popular at the time, in particular her debut single “Bubbly” had been very successful the previous year. So, you might think Taylor’s team/label would have wanted to push this song a bit more, but for some reason they didn’t.

The song seemed to be received well by critics too. There were obviously plenty of people who thought the song was good enough to earn a Grammy nomination. Although, it did end up losing to Colbie’s other, more commercially successful collaboration (“Lucky” with Jason Mraz).

So, it has been established that the song was released as a promotional single, it was nominated for a Grammy, and it was a collaboration with a popular (at the time) artist. These three factors combined might make someone wonder why she didn’t perform this song live until almost 10 years after its release. Just to reiterate, Taylor performed “Begin Again”, the song she performed second least out of this list, 75 times compared to the 1 and only time she performed “Breathe” in 2018.

This brings me back to the point that all of these other songs have a music video and were pushed as singles, whereas “Breathe” was only a promotional single and never had a music video.

Perhaps it would be fairer compare “Breathe” with the other promotional single Taylor released in the lead up to Fearless (I am excluding “Change” because it does have a music video and was used during the 2008 Olympics):

“You’re Not Sorry”

Date of release (as a single): October 28, 2008

# of times Taylor has performed this song live in total: 124

Yes, that’s right. Taylor has performed “You’re Not Sorry”, a song that got about the same amount of promotion as “Breathe”, well over 100 times.

Fearless was Taylor’s sophomore album and it was her first tour as a headliner. She had two albums worth of songs, plus a handful of others, to choose from. “Breathe” did not make the setlist. The only other song from Fearless that was not a part of the main setlist for that tour was “The Best Day”, a song that she performed live 6 times between 2009 and 2018, including twice during the Fearless Tour.

So, “Breathe”, again, was:

co-written by and features an artist who was popular at the time

released as a promotional single

nominated for a Grammy

never performed live before August 18, 2018

Which begs the question, why did she wait so long to perform the song live?

It has pretty much been established that the song is about Taylor’s original fiddle player, Emily. Taylor has never named names on this one, but most Swifties, even non-Gaylors, think the song is about her. Colbie Caillat basically confirmed this longtime fan theory in an April 2020 interview, where she says that Taylor “was writing about something she was going through with a band member at the time, and she was pouring her heart out about it”.

Taylor did say in the “making of” video for “Breathe” that the song is about a friend:

“It was total therapy because I came in and I was like, ‘Look, you know, one of my best friends, you know, I’m gonna have to not see anymore and is not gonna be part of what I do and it��s, like, the hardest thing to go through.’ It’s, like, crazy listening to the song cause you’d think it would be about a relationship, but it’s really about, like, losing a friend and, like, having a fallout and just the loss…”

She also adds:

“It’s never specific as to why. That’s my favorite thing about it. It doesn’t talk about why or whose fault it was cause sometimes the hardest time and way to say goodbye is when it’s nobody’s fault. It just has to stop.”

But, again, I’m pretty sure that Taylor herself has never said that it was about Emily. The official story is that Emily left the band to attend law school, but there is a rumor that she was actually fired. More specifically, the rumor is that she was fired when the true nature of their relationship was discovered.

This is all old news to Gaylors, of course. I said in my first post for this blog that I would not go too far into this theory due to the fact that Emily was 21 when she was hired and Taylor was only 16 at that time. I do think it is possible that Taylor had strong feelings towards Emily and maybe those feelings were unrequited or maybe they were reciprocated. Either way, perhaps someone found out somehow and the fallout was Emily getting fired.

It is also not improbable that Emily decided that she didn’t really like being on the road or the business side of being a professional musician and wanted to pursue a different career. If that was the case, then I do wonder why Taylor felt the need to repeatedly sing “I’m sorry” at the end of “Breathe”.

The only thing that would make sense, other than a potential firing that Taylor somehow felt responsible for, is that they had a fight when Emily broke the news to Taylor that she was going to leave the band. Hence, Taylor feeling the need to apologize so profusely.

Even if that is the case (here is where I project a bit/draw from my own experience), it still seems, to me, like Taylor felt a deep connection to Emily that might have blurred the line between platonic and romantic feelings. Maybe Emily is the first woman that she had those feelings for (ignoring “Angelina” and “Me And Britney” for this point) and so when she left it hit her really hard. Thus, she couldn’t bear to sing about it, even by the time the Fearless Tour started almost a year and half later.

That is all speculation, of course. Still, I can’t help but wonder why she would let almost an entire decade go by before she decided to sing a literal Grammy nominated song on stage for the first time. Especially considering the fact that she has performed all of her other Grammy nominated songs well over 100 times, aside from “Begin Again” (which she has still performed 74 times more than “Breathe”).

#taymily #gaylor #gaylor swift

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avengerscompound · 4 years ago

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It’s You and Me - Chapter 6

It’s You and Me: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count: 1588

Rating: E

Warnings: Nothing much this chapter

Synopsis: You and Clint Barton go way back. Since you joined the circus as a child, he took it upon himself to keep you away from the people who really wanted to hurt you. For years the two of you danced a line between dark and light.

When he chooses light the two of you go your separate ways.

Fifteen years later he tracks you down. Those feelings the two of you shared never went away, but now he is not only an Avengers but a single father. Can the two of you make it work after all this time when your lives have gone in such different directions?

A series told in flashbacks and current day.

Chapter 6: Then

Clint swung the sword in a lazy arc from left to right and back again as he watched you stretch. The springboard was set up between the two of you, and Clint hadn’t quite worked out how they’d hide that in the arena to make this look like you could get as much air as you needed without assistance. That was if the two of you could get it to work at all.

You’d come a long way since you first came to him for help. In the year and a bit since it happened you and he had started performing together. To begin with, Clint had just started training you to use the sword and the bow. While you learned he had incorporated you into his act doing simple things that didn’t require you to have any actual skills. Shooting an apple off your head. Putting you on a rotating wheel and firing arrows around your body.

Jacques kept complaining that it wasn’t enough. He tried to argue that anyone could stand there while Clint shot at them. Thankfully it was enough for the Ringmaster, and so Jacques couldn��t touch you. Maynard Tiboldt was the head of the circus, and what he said was law. Clint had known that it wouldn’t be long until Jacques got in the Tiboldt’s ear and he’d come for you again, and if not that, that Tiboldt himself would think up some criminal activity he needed you to do. So Clint honed his act as you got better. New tricks were added and he trained you in more things. When he started training you in acrobatics, he knew he was on to something. You took to it even faster than you took to the sword. You were a natural and Clint ended up roping in the other acrobats to help train you.

The act gradually grew as your skills became more honed. Little routines were added that had you backflipping out of the way of his arrows even though he was aiming not to hit you, and having you do handstands while he shot through your spread legs. As you got better the routine became more complex. Most recently Clint had you doing flips over the arrows he shot at targets as they traveled through the air. You’d even gotten to the point you could fire an arrow with your feet while you did a handstand. You weren’t particularly accurate but it served as a good starter for Clint to copy and spit your arrow in two.

He knew - the way he knew it about himself too - that you needed to keep getting better or it wouldn’t be enough anymore and they’d drag you right down into the pits with them. So he kept planning out more things you could do together. You were good with the horses, so he thought about incorporating them somehow. He thought about trick arrows and how the two of you could use them together. Anything that would keep drawing in a crowd and make the circus money so neither of you had to make it elsewhere.

“You ready?” He asked.

“Yeah. Are you?” You answered.

He nodded and thrust the sword forward as if he was going to stab you. You jumped rotating straight up through the air and landed with both feet, on the flat of the blade. Clint’s shoulder strained and the blade wobbled. You managed to stay standing on it for less than a second, but Clint couldn’t hold the blade steady and you slipped. You managed to get some leverage off the blade as you fell and turned mid-air, landing in a crouched position on the ground.

“Shit,” Clint cursed, rolling his shoulder. “Sorry. It’s the weight when you land. It’s hard to keep steady.”

“I could just immediately backflip off again,” you suggested. “Make it look like I kicked you in the face.”

Clint laughed. “I mean, sure we can start with that. But I think the crowd would appreciate it more if they get a moment to applaud it.”

“Yeah, but if I wrench your shoulder you’re not going to be good for anything, are you?” You said.

Clint looked down at the blade. “Reinforcing the blade helped with its stability. I wonder if we could rig something for me.”

“I dunno, Clint,” you said. “You’re better with those gadgets than I am. But wouldn’t that make shooting an arrow harder?”

“We can do an overdramatic jacket removal,” he suggested.

“Anything to get your shirt off,” you teased. “You trying to scare the customers away?”

“Why you little shit,” Clint gasped playfully and lunged at you, you ran but he got his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into a headlock and ran his knuckle back and forth on the top of the head.

“Clint!” You squealed, trying to struggle out of his hold. “Stop it!”

He stopped rubbing your head but kept you held under his arm. “I dunno if I should. You’re a big bunch of trouble.”

“I’m gonna kick your ass!” You shouted as you struggled.

“Yeah, yeah. How are you gonna do that when you’re trapped under there?” He teased.

The sound of someone clearing their throat cut through the clearing and Clint turned you to face Eden who was standing at the side of the tent. “What are you doing, Clinton?” She asked.

Clint rubbed the top of your head again. “Someone seems to think I am some kind of hussy that likes to use his body to get attention.”

“And you’re not?” Eden teased.

“Not you too!” She said, and dragged you after his girlfriend, as she backed up against the tent.

“Clinton Francis Barton, you had better not!” She shouted.

He wrapped his arm around Eden’s shoulders but instead of putting her in a headlock, he dipped her back and kissed her passionately, which only made you struggled under his arm more.

“Stop it! I don’t wanna be pinned here while you make out!” You yelped.

Eden pulled back laughing and Clint looked down at you with a smirk, before letting you go. You backed off of him scowling. “You suck.”

“Oh come on now,” Eden said. “You could have broken out of that, surely. Clint? Aren’t you teaching her how to fight?”

“Well I could have punched him in the nuts, but who knows where those have been,” you teased.

“Why you little…” he said and lunged at you. You ran away laughing as Eden caught his wrist.

“Let her go,” she said. “You spend entirely too much time around her anyway.”

“She’s in my act,” Clint said. “We have to rehearse. I was thinking of adding horses… I saw this thing where people did this act, riding them standing up. Jumping on and off. I reckon I could do that and maybe we could do the handstand arrow while riding next to each other. I bet that would…”

Eden stopped him by pressing her lips against his and pushing him up against one of the tent poles. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her even closer, trying to push out the thoughts of potential acts as her fingers tangled into his hair and ran along his scalp.

“I think you spend entirely too much time with her,” Eden said. “I thought I was your girl.”

“You are, baby,” Clint assured her. “She’s just a kid. I only have eyes for you.”

“She’s not so much a kid anymore,” Eden said. “She’ll be turning seventeen soon.”

“Pfft,” Clint scoffed. “She’s a kid. You don’t trust me?”

Eden raised her eyebrow at him. “Do you always trust me?”

Clint furrowed his brow. The truth was he wasn’t sure if he did always trust her. Which had nothing to do with Eden at all, and everything to do with him. It was hard to equate trust and love together when all the people who showed him any kind of affection always hurt him so much. Even his brother who had spent his life protecting Clint was just as likely to hit him as he was to save him. So despite the fact that Eden hadn’t done anything to make him not trust her, anytime he saw her even next to another guy he felt possessive.

“See,” she said. “Maybe we just need a little extra reassurance.”

Clint nodded and pressed his forehead against hers. “You don’t have to worry about me and her. It’s just our act and I gotta keep it fresh so Jacques doesn’t make us take part in his schemes.”

The shadow of a frown fell on Eden’s face so briefly that Clint wasn’t sure if it was really there at all. “Do you worry about me like that?”

“Of course I do, babe,” Clint said. “You and me, we’re gonna keep our noses clean.”

“What if they tell me what I’m doing isn’t enough?” Eden asked.

Clint cradled her jaw and looked into her eyes. “Who said that? Did Jacques - “ he pulled away and squared off his shoulders. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

Eden grabbed Clint’s arm. “No one did anything. It was a; ‘What if…?’ I’m fine.”

“You’ll tell me… if he does? You’ll tell me?” Clint asked.

“I’ll tell you, Clint. It’s fine,” she assured him. “Hey. How about you and I find somewhere quiet, so we can… you know?”

Clint smirked, the worries about trust and Jacques quickly pushed away. He took Eden’s hand and the two of them went to find somewhere private together.

// NEXT

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #it's you and me

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azuresins · 4 years ago

Note

Don't take this the wrong way, but as much as I love your theories... I think it's a reach when it comes to the celtic/irish connection. I can't see it. Is there anything else you have to back up why you think why the manga will address it or make it a plot point??

I wish all of my asks were this nice, it’s okay lmfao. Sorry, this took me a while to get to. I know it seems like I’m reading in-between the lines. But believe me when I say, when I make an analysis, or a ‘hot take’ or a prediction of any sort it’s because I dissect everything... and I notice what’s missing. I know this isn’t a popular belief, but you can make accurate predictions and analysis based on what’s missing from context...every bit as much as what’s been written. To answer this, it’s mostly because? it’s that a huge part of England’s history, to the time period Kuroshitsuji is written. And I think it would be really not-smart of Yana, to not include that enormous 500 pound gorilla in the room of England’s history. To most historians when you bring up ‘indentured servants’ and ‘England’ in the same sentence, they think of various peoples who were 1.) Sent to work in America or 2.) the celtic and irish, and the way they were mistreated by England and used as second-class citizens and human work horses. (*Just as a side note. Please don’t confuse indentured servants with slaves it’s highly offensive!) The entire story from Sebastian and his Master, to the Reapers and God, to the Queen and all the people beneath her. Soma and Angi; Wolfram and Seig, To the Fags and the Prefects, the Circus orphans and Baron Kelvin, the chinese drug lords and the kids they exploit; it’s all, all, all about indentured servitude and it’s various good, bad, and ugly complexities. Mostly, ugly if we’re being honest with ourselves. ... The reason why Sebastian, who is a demon, stands out in such stark contrast to everyone else, is because he’s the only character actively seeking to become a servant, to someone. Everyone else is a victim of circumstance, or ends up a servant. So. ...Just ponder that for a while! It lives in my head rent free like a feral beast. Anyway yeah that’s pretty much it. It would be really dumb of her not to include an entire group / huge chunk of people who were victims of it and make it a part of her story. The Finnian Cycle is foreshadowed for a god damn reason.

#fenian name theory #... I don't know how else to tag I'm sorry #theory #asks #Anonymous #Finnian name theory

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the-sympathetic-villain · 4 years ago

Text

You Belong With Me - Chapter 28

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: Much to his surprise, after being released from prison for a crime he didn’t commit, Logan has been appointed as a the prince’s new advisor.

Word Count: 6540

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Effects of poisoning, Overstimulation, Mentions of abandonment

“He’s home, L.” Virgil mumbled into his shoulder.

“What?” Logan glanced down at Virgil and swallowed anxiously, watching his friend struggle to walk down the narrow path. He gripped Virgil tighter, unsettled by how gaunt Virgil had become on the short walk from the castle.

“He's—” Virgil inhaled with a pained hiss and his legs gave out. Logan stumbled, barely keeping both of them standing as Virgil’s weight dropped out beneath him.

“Vee!” Logan breathed out urgently as he came to a stop. He wrapped his free arm around Virgil's chest to keep him upright. “Are you okay?”

“Hey—don't worry, L. I'm okay.” Virgil smiled faintly up at him as he regained his footing. “Just hurts.”

Logan’s chest ached with guilt as Virgil slurred his words with exhaustion. “I'm sorry, Vee. I should have—”

“Don’t you dare apologize to me, L.” Virgil growled as pointed down to the path. “Patton’s house. He's there.”

“Sure thing, Vee.” Logan whispered slowly, taking a long breath. Emotion swelled in his chest. Despite his current condition, Virgil still insisted on keeping an eye out him and that kindness was truly beyond his comprehension. He shook his head, trying to refocus. “Why’s he home anyway? Shouldn’t he be working in the greenhouses today?”

Virgil hobbled along in silence for a moment before he letting out a loud sigh. “He's upset with me, L. We fought last night and he decided not to go into work today.”

“What? Why?” Logan stopped in his tracks, his mouth hanging open.

“That's why I was late this morning. Gods, what a shit morning to be distracted,” Virgil let out a breath as his face fell. “but I can't sleep for shit when he's mad at me.”

Logan frowned, hanging his head as they started to move forward once more. He stared down at Virgil's sad eyes as he hobbled down the path. He'd never seen Virgil looking so despondent. Virgil was always so composed and it broke Logan's heart to see his friend in pain. “Why's he upset with you, Vee?”

“I—” Virgil groaned, clutching his stomach in pain. “He's—he's right to be mad. I fu—I messed up, L. I've been keeping secrets that weren't mine to keep.”

Logan squeezed him tighter, as they reached the stairs to Patton’s house. “I'm certain that Patton will forgive you no matter what happened, Vee. He doesn’t seem to be the type to hold grudges.”

“It's—it’s not Patton that needs to—” Virgil mumbled, wheezing as he tool each step. They paused at the top of the stairs as Virgil caught his breath. “I'm sorry, L. Not now. We'll talk about this in a minute.”

“Of course, Vee.” Logan put a hand on Virgil’s chest, steadying him from both sides as his friend swayed, eyes closed as he nearly lost consciousness. “Whatever you need. I'm going to make sure you’re okay.”

“I know, L.” Virgil looked up at him with a tired grin. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Logan nodded seriously, watching Virgil fade in his arms as he clung to him side. He held his friend tightly, supporting him as he reached up to pound on Patton’ door. He took a long breath, holding his hand to Virgil’s chest as he listened to Patton moving on the other side of the door.

Finally, the door popped open and Patton’s head popped out. His face scrunched in confusion “Lo—”

“Hey, Pat."

Patton's eyes widened as he caught sight of Virgil hanging off of Logan's are

Virgil eyes fluttered closed as he leaned into Logan, but he continued speaking calmly. "I know you’re mad at me and all, but I could really use some help with—"

“Virgil!” Patton didn't hesitate to rush toward him, sweeping Virgil’s arm over his shoulder as he helped Logan lift him. “What happened to you?”

“Got hit with a minor dose of poison—” Virgil grunted, limp in their hands as they pulled him through the door.

“What kind of poison?” Patton pressed, carefully glancing down his friend's fading expression.

Virgil chewed his lips nervously, fighting to think through the haze in his mind with a sigh. “I don't know.”

“So, you don't actually know if the dose was minor—” Patton chided. Logan couldn’t help but notice the edge in Patton’s usually chipper voice.

“Well, I'm not dead. Am I?” Virgil muttered as they lowered him into the chair.

“Don't joke about that, Virgil!” Patton scolded him harshly and Logan could see Virgil flinch at his tone.

“Patton,” Logan whispered. “Perhaps now is not the time to increase Virgil’s stress more than is necessary.”

Patton paused, looking down at Virgil. His head was bowed to his chest as he forced deep breaths and his muscles were tensed as the unknown substance flowed through his body.

“You’re right,” Patton smiled sadly, kneeling down beside Virgil and brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Sorry, kiddo. I just don't like seeing you in pain and not being able to help. Poison’s aren't my specialty and if we don't even know what kind it is—"

“Wait—” Logan interrupted as realization hit him. His friends stared at him in confusion as he started fishing through his pockets and carefully pulled out the small dart Remus had dropped earlier. “—Yes. We do.”

Virgil's eyes focused for a moment as he stared at the dart with suspicion. “Where'd you get that, L?”

Logan looked up at his friends. They stared at him with wide eyes and he dropped his gaze nervously, closing his hand around the dart. His eyes shifted back and forth between his friends as he considered what he was clearly intended to do. “Remus dropped this at my feet before he left us in the corridor. You were unconscious, Vee, but he—he said he wanted to see if I was more than a one trick pony, which is a stupid phrase. Horses are clearly trained with more than one purpose in mind—

"Oh, kiddo." Patton reached out to him to reassure him as he began to ramble anxiously.

"—but perhaps, it is an accurate comparison because I'm entirely useless in this endeavor and—"

“Stop, Lo. It's going to be okay.” Patton hushed him as he stepped toward him. Logan could feel a slight tremor in his lip as Patton gently touched his arms. “We're going to figure this out.”

“Pat, he wants me to do the same thing I did for Roman,” Logan clenched his hands and gritted his teeth bitterly. “but I can't do it. I don't know how I did it the first—”

“Hey, Lo.” Patton held a hand out gently, watching Logan's hand carefully as he slipped a leather glove off the desk next to Logan. He smiled gently at Logan as he pulled on the glove and held his hand out.

Logan looked down at his white knuckles clenched tightly around the dart. He shivered, gently loosening his grip on the dangerous weapon. His muscles went limp with a new wave of panic as Patton took the dart from him. “I don’t know, Pat. I just don't know."

“Good job, kiddo.” Patton whispered as he examined the dart. “ Now, Lo. Slow down. What don't you know?”

“I don't know how to fix this, Pat,” Logan whispered as he caught a look at the beads of sweat forming on Virgil’s forehead as he shivered violently in the chair behind Patton’s shoulder. Logan dropped his gaze, ashamed of his own incompetence. “With Rom—" Logan's breath stopped as Roman's name passed his tongue and he had to stop and take a breath before continuing. "—W-with Roman, I knew as soon as I had the dart in my hand. There were complex procedures with precise measurements I needed to be sure the antidote was safe—" Logan glanced at the dart in Patton's hand bitterly. "—I don't know anything about this one, Pat.”

“We're going to figure this out, Lo.” Patton put a hand on Logan's forearm. “You, me, Virgil and Roman are going to—”

“Not Roman.” Logan interrupted abruptly, sucking in a breath as he crossed his arms across his chest.

“What?” Patton paused, looking up at Logan. There was a long pause when Logan didn’t respond and Patton tensed, glancing back at Virgil. “What happened to Roman?”

Virgil groaned, leaning forward in his chair. He propped his elbows on his knees holding his head in his hands. “They've got princey, Pat. The fae that took Logan kidnapped him this morning.”

“What?!” Patton straightened. “ What happened, Virgil?! Why didn't you—”

“Patton, please—” Virgil whispered breathlessly. “Please—I can't handle you being mad at me right now. The king is looking for Roman. I promise I made sure someone was out for him before anything else—”

“Oh, sweetie. No.” Patton spoke after a moment and kneeled next to Virgil, reaching a hand to his cheek. “I'm not mad at you. I know things got a little rough last night, but I’m not angry. We're always in this together, Virge.”

“I did what I could, Pat.” Virgil wheezed between shallow breathes. “I did—"

“Hey now. I know you did everything you could. You always do so good taking care of us and I'm so proud of you, kiddo.” Patton hushed him with a subtle smile. “Let’s get you fixed up. Okay?”

Virgil hesitated before giving Patton a quick nod. Logan couldn’t help noticing the sunken look in his eyes as he finally took a breath. “I didn't mean to snap at you, Pat.”

"You were hurt and I was making it worse. You had every right to tell me to stop, Virge.” Patton whispered with a smile, slipping a glove on his other hand as he looked down at Virgil. “Now, let's get this figured out so you're not hurting anymore. Okay?”

“'Kay.” Virgil looked up at Patton and Logan could see guilt in Virgil’s eyes as Virgil choked in a strained breath. “Thank you.”

“You've saved me so many times, Virge. It's about time I return the favor.” Patton smiled as he twisted the base of the dart. The mechanism gave a small click as the dart's chamber opened. He wafted the dart near his nose and a smile spread across his face. “and maybe this is going to be easier than we thought.”

"What?” Virgil looked up at Patton and for the first time Logan caught his gaze. He shivered, staring absently at Virgil’s dilated eyes. The world fell away as guilt settled into his stomach, seeing the poison's process continuing to take hold of his friend.

“Logan?”

Logan blinked, coming out of a daze. He looked up to see Patton staring at him. Straightening up, he traced Patton’s arm down to where he held the dart out to him. He looked up back up at Patton, confused.

“Smell, but don't inhale.” Patton instructed sternly. “Tell me what you think.”

Logan eyes the dart suspiciously before leaning into Patton’s hand, letting the scent waft into his nose.

Wait that's—

The thought was abruptly interrupted as the overwhelmingly acrid taste hit the back of his throat. His face scrunched uncomfortably and he stuck out his tongue as he desperately tried to force the taste of his mouth.

“I told you not to inhale, Lo—” Patton chided softly, pulling the dart back.

“That's hemlock,” Logan choked out between breaths. “but there's something wrong with it.”

Patton stared at him for a moment before wafting the serum past his nose again. “What do you mean? Hemlock smells awful but I don’t think there’s anything unusual about this sample.”

Logan stared at the dart for a moment. He flicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, considering his words. “I am intimately familiar with hemlock, Patton. It's the most common poison in the meadows north of the castle. At the apothecary where I worked, I treated cases at least weekly where farmers brought in sheep that had accidentally consumed—”

“I'm not a sheep."

Logan abruptly looked down as Virgil’s pained voice interrupted his rambling and a wave of guilt washed over him. Logan crossed his arms and dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry, Vee. I know you’re not, but I'm certain this is wrong. We could—we could hurt you if we make the wrong decision.”

Patton stood up, moving closer to Logan with a curious look in his eyes. “How sure are you, Lo?”

Logan hung his head, clenching his hands around his elbows as he felt his breath speed up anxiously. “As sure as I was with Roman. Don't ask me how. I don't know, but I'm sure and I just need you to trust—”

“Hey, kiddo.” Logan jumped as Patton's hand brushed his arm. “Why don't you take a seat?”

“I can't—”

“Sure, you can—”

“Virgil—”

“—is going to be fine.” Patton smiled patiently. “I know what we're dealing with and how we can figure this out.”

“What?” Logan’s head shot up to him.

“Sit down, kiddo.” Patton gently nudged him backward toward the bed. “We need to talk.”

“Patton, if you know how to help Virgil, we should be helping him—” Logan resisted, trembling as he looked at Virgil.

“I am, but I need your help, Lo. To do that, I need you to sit down and listen to me.” Patton smiled warmly at him as Logan finally relented and dropped down to the bed. “Now, I'm going to tell you something that's going to be hard to hear—”

“Pat, is this really the time for this?” Virgil moaned, clutching his chest.

“No.” Patton muttered bitterly. "The time for this was days ago when you figured this out, Virge."

Confused, Logan looked up at Patton’s serious expression before turning back to look at Virgil as he deflated in the chair behind Patton.

“Pat, you said you weren't mad—” Virgil whispered.

“I'm not, Virgil. I'm really not. I know you didn't know what to do,” Patton sighed impatiently. "but this can't wait any longer. We need Logan's help and the only way he can help is if he knows what’s going on.”

There was a long pause before Virgil nodded. “Alright, Pat, but I need to be the one to tell him. I want to make this right.”

“What's going on?” Logan started to shake as Virgil stood up, groaning as he moved towards them. He sucked in a sharp breath, on the verge of a panic attack as Patton caught Virgil's shoulder, helping Virgil towards him. “What did I do—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, kiddo,” Patton smiled at him softly. “and none of this changes anything. No matter what you've heard from any of us. We love you and you always have a place here. You’re family, Logan. Forever. Okay?”

“Okay.” Logan responded numbly. He stared at his friends and shivered, tightening his arms around his chest as Virgil stumbled his way over.

A million worst-case scenarios pushed for attention in his mind as Virgil dropped down next to him with a grunt. Logan lifted his head and he could see his friend's muscles were tense from the poison, yet still, as Virgil looked up from the ground, Logan could see his intense focus overshadow the pain as he looked apologetically up at Virgil. “Lo, you got to know I didn’t keep this from you on purpose. I need you to know I trust you completely, but I wasn’t sure until just a few days ago. I—I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure, L.”

“Say anything to me about what?” Logan glanced nervously up over at Patton as he dropped down on his other side. He jumped as Patton put his hand on his back, not realizing how on edge he was. Patton smiled at him gently and Logan forced himself to relax as Patton rubbed circles into his back.

“L?” Virgil waited until Logan turned back to him. “That first night after we met and I stayed with you at your place. You had a nightmare and I rushed in to calm you down. Do you remember?”

Logan bit his lip, eyes flitting over to Patton as a touch of embarrassment burned on his cheeks. “Yes, I remember.”

“It was storming that night.” Virgil continued, watching Logan's reaction closely. “Like a full-blown storm with lightning and everything?”

Logan nodded nervously as his friends leaned closer.

Virgil looked up at him seriously. “At the time, I passed it off as a reflection of the lightning, but, um—that night your eyes glowed, L. They glowed bright blue.”

“What?” Logan opened his mouth to protest but his throat was suddenly dry and he couldn't seem to force the words out.

“—and then again, after Remus got into your dream. It was storming and I thought I was catching the light in your eye when the lightning flashed and you needed help so I didn't focus on it at the time—”

Logan tensed as Patton's hand stopped moving on his back. He slowly looked down at the ground, clenching his hands together as Virgil continued.

“I didn’t know for sure until a few days ago when Remus dropped you back in Roman's room after they'd taken you. I stayed with you while princey and Patton ran for medical supplies.” Virgil paused, watching Logan’s expression fall. “When that amulet lit up and you got hurt, your eyes glowed. The sky was clear and there was no lightning for me to blame it on this time, L.”

Virgil's implication settled uncomfortably in his stomach and his head fell to his chest, avoiding his friends' gaze as he felt his hands start to shake. “That's not possible."

"Listen, L." Virgil flashed him a faint smile, wheezing as he rested a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “After you lit up Roman’s chambers in blue lightning, I think it's pretty undeniable.”

“Blue lightning?” Patton stared at Virgil in shock until Virgil smiled and nodded up at him. Patton beamed, gently wrapping his arms around Logan’s waist as he stared numbly into space. “Oh, kiddo. I don’t know how you don’t know, but you're an elemental fae—a storm fae.”

“I'm not—” Logan shivered, suddenly cold from shock. “That can't be— How can you trust me?”

Virgil gently reached a arm around Logan's shoulder. "Not all fae are untrustworthy, L. Some of my underground contacts are fae and I'd trust them with my life. Just like I trust you, L."

Logan's shock was interrupted as Patton’s arms tightened around him. “Lo, this doesn’t change anything. You’re still the same person.”

“But Roman—” Logan felt his breath catch in his throat as his muscles seized. "Roman said—"

“Roman was blowing smoke because that bastard hurt you, L. Nothing more.” Virgil’s arm wrapped around his shoulder. “What he said doesn't mean anything. None of us are going to think any different of you, including him.”

Logan stared at him for a moment before nodding and taking a breath, easing in his friends' arms. Leaning back into their warmth, he blinked. “How could I not know—"

“I don’t know, kiddo, and we'll help you figure it out later.” Patton squeezed him tightly before sitting up. “but for now, we have to—”

“I know, Pat—” Logan nodded, trying to shake the feeling of shock as he turned his head to Virgil. “What do I have to do to help him?”

“The Master Botanist I apprenticed under taught me so much of what I know and she knew more than I think I ever will,” Patton smiled fondly at the memories. “But most relevant, she taught me about the fae. The fair folk are natural herbalists. It's in their blood. In fact, It's nearly impossible to poison a fae because they have an innate sense for the properties of flora.”

“Get to the point, Pat.” Virgil growled, leaning into Logan. “Now's not the time for the long version.”

Patton held up the dart and smiled at Logan as he sealed poison in its compartment. “I think his dart is useless. It's a decoy.”

“What?” Logan put an arm around Virgil to steady him.

"This is normal hemlock. I'm sure of it, L," He held up the dart. "I think it smells wrong to you, because you're focused on healing Virgil and Virgil was poisoned with something else. This dart was meant to challenge you by throwing you off the trail."

"Patton—" Logan's hands were shaking as Virgil leaned tiredly into his shoulder.

“I don't think poisoning Virgil was an attack of opportunity,” Patton paused. “I think that other fae wanted Remus to poison Virgil, so that you would be forced to use your power to save him.”

“That has to be the poison. If that's not it, it could be anything.” Logan breathed. "We'll never figure it out."

“No, it doesn’t,” Patton stepped forward. “because you can figure it out without the original poison. He wants you to use your abilities to figure it out on your own, Lo.”

"Dee—" Logan shook his head, turning to look down as Virgil swayed, eyes fluttering closed on his shoulder. "You bastard—"

“You need to use your abilities.” Patton pressed him to focus. "I know this is a lot to take in all at once, but you can do it, kiddo. You can save him."

Reaching up to his chest to steady him, Logan turned sad eyes up to Patton. “I have no control, Patton.

“You have to try, Lo. Those are the stakes.” Patton bit his lip, gesturing to Virgil. “You have to figure it out or we lose our friend.”

Logan stared helplessly up at Patton for a moment before nodding. “Okay, Pat. You’re the expert."

“Just focus, Lo. They wouldn't give you something they didn't think you could handle. He wants you to succeed.” Patton trembled as he put a hand on Logan’s back. “He doesn’t benefit from seeing you fail.”

Logan nodded nublyly, focusing his energy on Virgil. He reached a hand down to Virgil's face, lifting his head. “Vee? Are you awake?”

Virgil mumbled inaudibly into Logan’s hand, not opening his eyes.

“I need you to talk to me, Vee.” Logan spoke slowly and clearly, trying to break through to his quickly fading friend. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Tired…” Virgil muttered.

“Good, Virgil." Logan swallowed nervously. "What else?”

“Hurts—hurts real bad.” Virgil exhaled slowly. “Hard to breathe, L.”

“Open your eyes, Vee.” Logan guided Virgil’s face up to look at him, but Virgil merely moaned. The lids of his eyelids flittered and remained closed. “Stay with me. I need you to fight it and keep your eyes open.”

Virgil grunted, prying his eyes open. His fist clenched onto Logan’s shirt from the effort.

“You’re doing exceedingly well.” Logan paused, staring into his dilated eyes. “I'm going to fix this, Virgil. You’re going to be fine.”

“I know, L.” Virgil’s words slurred as he faltered, nearly drifting asleep before looking up at Logan. “I know you won't let anything happen to me.”

“I won't.” Logan whispered, watching as Virgil limply leaned back into his shoulder. Virgil’s breathing started to slow as exhaustion settled in as he settled his whole weight into Logan’s shoulder. “I won't let any—”

A soft snore from below him sent a sudden chill through his body—

He can't sleep.

“Virgil!” Logan straightened up suddenly as the thought echoed loudly in his mind. He reached up to Virgil’s shoulders, lifting him so that he could look into Virgil’s eyes. “Virgil, you have to stay awake."

Virgil moaned quietly, but his eyes cracked open.

Logan's grip tightened on his shoulders as he whispered frantically. “Vee, you have to stay awake. You can't sleep.”

"Kiddo,” Patton slid onto the bed next to Logan. He gaze fell nervously on Virgil’s face, but he kept his voice calm, whispering to Logan. “Do you know something?”

Logan glanced behind him, feeling himself shake as Virgil swayed. “We can’t let him sleep, Pat.”

“You’re sure?”

Logan glanced back at him and nodded before reaching up to support Virgil’s face as his head drooped. "As sure as I was with Roman."

“That's good, Lo.” Logan could hear pride in Patton’s voice as he put a hand on Logan’s back. “Stay focused on that feeling. What else can you tell?”

Logan sucked in a breath. Virgil’s mouth hung open as he leaned into Logan’s hand, murmuring quietly. “Patton, I can't—”

“You can, Lo.” Patton started firmly, but Logan could here a tremor in his voice as he looked at Virgil. “He needs you. You have to do this.”

Logan nodded.

He needs me.

He took a deep breath, turning to Virgil and his eyes dropped down. Slowly, Logan reached down and took Virgil’s wrist in his hand, pressing two fingers against the vein until he could feel Virgil's pulse against his fingertipes. He closed his eyes, feeling the blood move in Virgil’s veins.

I have to help him.

The air around him shifted as he took in a breath, catching a bitter scent on the air. He swallowed, disgust evident on his face as he tried to place the smell.

“Patton, it has a bad smell.” Logan whispered, trying to remain focused. “It's not hemlock.”

“Good job, kiddo Keep going.” Patton scurried off the bed toward his bookshelves. He pulled a volume off the shelf, flipping through the pages. “Can you be more specific?”

Logan stuck his tongue out, tasting the air. “It's bad. Like rot—or waste.”

“What else, Lo?

The hairs on his arms stood on end as Logan leaned into Virgil. The sound of Virgil’s pulse echoed in his ears and he could feel the poison moving through Virgil’s body.

Focus.

The air in the room shifted and he feel his awareness expand. Vibrations course through the air and Logan could feel the world around him. He could hear the quiet chittering of a rabbit chewing on the grass outside. Dozens of scents wafted around him as the Patton's collection of herbs drifted toward him. Logan open his eyes and blinked. The world swirled with colors as scents danced through the air. Colors were brighter and more vibrant as his vision blurred before his eye. There were more colors, more than he could name.

He nearly closed his eyes when a soft, yellow glow caught his eye. The glow radiated from Virgil’s skin as he stared. Curiously, Logan lifted his hand up, absently moving his hand through the yellow haze. Images floated through his head and he could see the image a small, flower in his mind. The blossom was pale green and shaped like a candlelight flame. Dark green leaves sprouted from the sides and the light-colored petals swept upward to form a protective hood around the small purple stem. Shivers slowly crept down his spine as he recognized the plant.

Adder's root.

Adder's root was certainly deadly. A single dose was overwhelmingly powerful and Logan knew even a minuscule amount could put any adult in the infirmary for days, if it didn’t kill them outright within a matter of hours. He knew he should be panic, but something was off. Logan passed his hand through the faint, yellow haze once more and a sudden realization washed over him.

The poison is diluted.

His muscles went limp with relief and he suddenly felt exhausted. He looked up at Virgil as he whispered softly. “It's not a lethal dose.”

Patton's head spun around to him as he latched onto the desk. “What?”

Logan sighed with relief and wrapped his arms around Virgil. “It's not lethal. He's going to be okay.”

A soft groan resonated against Logan’s chest and he could feel Virgil chuckle into his shoulder. “That’s great and all, L, but I still feel like crap.”

“I know, Vee. I know.” Logan breathed with relief as he released Virgil. “I think I can fix that, too. Patton?”

Logan looked to him for help but Patton had already swooped in on Virgil’s other side and wrapped his arms tightly around Virgil’s torso.

“Pat, I’m having enough trouble breathing without you squeezing me to death.” Virgil wheezed with a smile.

Patton’s grip lightened but he buried his head in Virgil’s shoulder. “I'm so sorry, kiddo.”

Virgil paused, looking down at Patton. “For what, Pat?”

“For being a jerk.”

“Pat—”

“Virgil, you were hurting and I was awful to you just now.” Patton sucked in a breath. “What if something happened to you?”

Virgil straightened. His head cleared for a brief moment and he smiled at Patton latched onto his chest. “Pat, you’re acting like you didn’t know Logan was going to take care of me.”

Patton opened his eyes smiling at Logan as he held onto Virgil. “I knew Lo could do it, but still, knowing I'd been so mean and I wouldn't do anything help you.”

“Pat, it's okay. You were right to be upset—"

“No, I wasn’t. Logan had a right to know, but I shouldn’t have blamed you for being cautious. I should have trusted you planned to tell Logan when you were sure—”

“Pat,” Virgil wheezed with a frown. “Of course, I was going to tell him—"

“I know now, Virgil, and I should have trusted you. You've never given me any reason to doubt—” Patton sucked in a breath. “If Logan hadn't been here to save you, I could have lost—”

“Pat, relax.” Virgil smirked, pulling Patton closer. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“No, you're not.” Patton smiled and took a deep breath. “Now, let’s get you feeling better, Virgil. Logan, what do you need?”

“Just keep him awake.” Logan could hear the hum of the air around him as his senses flared with a new influx of information. “It's be best for Virgil to remain awake until the effects of the poison start to wane.”

Logan rose quickly off the bed, glancing back at Patton. “I believe I can craft an antidote suitable enough to alleviate your symptoms until the substance leaves your system. Patton, may I use your supplies?”

“Of course, Lo. Do you need help finding—”

“No, Pat.” Logan hummed, blinking as colors shifted before his eyes. Standing next to shelves full of herbs suddenly seemed overwhelming. “I—um, I can see them.”

Patton looked up from Virgil. “See what, Lo?”

“The herbs, Pat.” Logan stumbled as a mix of scents hit the back of his throat. He gagged as acrid, bitter smells mixed with other sickeningly sweet scents in sent a wave of nausea straight to his stomach. “The—um, I can see a colored haze of each herb's scent.”

Patton started to stand. “Lo, are you okay—”

“I'm fine.” Logan interrupted, waving him away. He looked back at Patton briefly as he swallowed down his discomfort. “This happened last time as well. You just have quite a collection and its overwhelming.”

“You—” Patton paused, letting Virgil lean into his shoulder as Logan pulled various packages and jars from the shelves. “You started seeing scents as colors in the air and you didn't think that was strange?”

“More than that, Pat. Everything shifts. My senses are heightened and I can see and feel things I can't usually.” Logan paused, pressing the palm of his hands against his closed eyes as they ached with photosensitivity. I moment later, he forced them open again so he could work, irritated as he struggled with the seal on the package of herbs in his hand. “In retrospect, the pattern is obvious, but at the time I blamed stress. I thought the panic had induced some sort of synesthesia episode. That night I was not in a good place. I was scare out of my mind—”

“Lo, you don't have to get into it.” Patton ran his fingers through Virgil’s hair, watching Logan grind at the ingredients.

“I know. Pat.” Logan felt the air hum around him. Closing his eyes, he could feel the vibrations of the world around him, radiating out past the walls of Patton’s hut. A uncomfortable sensation crept across his body as overstimulation seemed to pull at the last shreds of his composure. “That—that’s not what's bothering me. I can rationalize my beliefs that night but—but how could I have been so entirely oblivious the rest of my life? It doesn't make any sense.”

“I mean, if your parents never told you, how would you ever—”

“I didn’t have parents, Pat. My grandparents raised me.” Logan resumed insistently pushing the pestle against the mortar as he ground the herbs. “Although, given the circumstances, it's likely they were not honest about my relationship to them.”

“Stop, L.”

Logan paused, staring down at his herbs as Virgil’s voice echoed in his ears.

“Don't do this to yourself.” Virgil muttered breathlessly. “Don't go down that road.”

“How can I not, Vee?” Logan's shoulders slumped as he resumed his work. Using the flat side of a blade, he began to crush the stems to draw out the small amount of liquid he need. The subtle rhythm slowly eased the tension in his shoulders until he finally sighed. “Everything I've ever known is a lie. No one cared enough to ensure I knew what I was. Even if the people who raised me didn’t know or didn’t care, clearly the people who were supposed to care, my parents, couldn't have been bothered to explain before they dropped like a sack of—”

“Lo, stop. This can’t help you.” Patton spoke sternly.

"Help me?" Logan muttered bitterly. “What would help me would be to know that someone in my damn life actually wanted me around.”

“We want you around, kiddo.” Patton said softly. “Me and Virgil and Roman. We all—”

“Not Roman.” Logan interrupted, keeping his head down as he turned to walk towards them. “You can't presume to know how he will feel when he learns what I am.”

“I can, L.” Virgil’s hoarse voice broke the silence and Logan couldn’t help glancing up at him lying tiredly in Patton’s shoulder. “I know princey better than I know myself and you've got nothing to worry about, L. I'd stake my life on the fact the you being fae changes nothing in his eyes.”

Logan paused, looking up at his friends as he sat down next to Virgil. “Thank you, Virgil. I appreciate your reassurances. I just—I know how selfish this may sound, but I wish I could hear it from him.”

“It’s not selfish, Lo.” Patton smiled at Logan, supporting Virgil as Logan turned to face them. “It’s human—” Patton blushed as Logan raised an eyebrow at him. “Oops, I just mean its normal for you to want to know what he thinks, but you don't have to worry, Lo. We all love you.”

Logan paused. His lip curled into a faint smile as he lifted his head to look at his friends. He shivered as the air around him warmed as the quite hum of his friends' love filled the air. “Thank you, Patton.” He glanced down at Virgil. “Are you ready, Vee?”

“Have at me, L.” Virgil smirked at him.

“The taste will probably be quite unpleasant.” Logan smiled at him, slowly mixing the solution in his hand.

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought you hadn't made this before.”

“I haven’t,” Logan smiled, slowly stirring the solution. “but I can smell it.”

“Great. Well, bring it on.” Virgil growled, pushing up off Patton. “Nothing's going to disgust me more than seeing that rat bastard's face today anyway.”

“Fair enough.” Logan smirked holding a spoonful out to Virgil. “One spoonful now and then another in about an hour."

Virgil grimaced. “Do I have to stay awake for that long?”

"You seem to be fairly awake at the moment, Vee." Logan tilted his head, looking him over.

"The exhaustion comes in waves." Virgil muttered in irritation, running his hand through his hair as he swayed gently.

Logan nodded sympathetically. “After the second dose, you can sleep but it would be best if you could stay awake until then."

Virgil rubbed his temples in irritation. “I don’t know if I'll be able to do that on my own.”

“We’ll help, Vee.” Logan reassured him.

Virgil gritted his teeth and nodded, allowing Logan to lift the spoon to his lips. He swallowed it in one gulp, immediately gagging as he taste swept over his tongue. A retching sound escaped Virgil as he curled over on his stomach. Still tense, he glanced up at Logan. “Start talking, L. If you don’t distract me, I’m going to throw this crap up.”

Logan froze, suddenly feeling the pressure to keep the conversation moving. “I, um—I don’t know what to—”

“Figure it out, L.” Virgil groaned, closing his eyes. "I need a distraction."

Logan bit his lip, feeling his mind go blank as Virgil put him on the spot. A moment passed before a thought crossed his mind. Something to keep Virgil focused. “Actually, there is something I've wanted to ask you, if you’re willing to discuss the topic.”

“Shoot, L.”

Logan shifted on the bed, watching his friend. “When I first told Roman about Remus, we needed to keep him silent. You called in a favor with Roman.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed in on him. “Yeah, I did. He owed me.”

“You don’t have to disclose this information if you don't want to, but I am curious.” Logan swallowed, watching Virgil. “Why did Roman owe you a favor?”

“Years ago, he asked something of me and he didn't have time to explain why he needed me to do it. I could have been arrested, but I did it for him.” Virgil smirked as he swayed, tilting back into Patton’s arms. “The deal was I'd do that for him, but he'd owe me a favor. Anytime and for any reason, I could call it in and he'd have to do whatever I asked of him without asking why."

Logan blinked. “What did he ask you to do?”

A smile twitched at the corner of his lips as an unreadable look crept into his eyes. The sight unnerved him, sending chills down his spine. “He asked me to kidnap a kid, L.”

“What?” Logan froze, staring down at Virgil’s unsettling expression. “Why would you—”

“Virgil, that's not really what happened.” Patton whispered and Logan let his gaze drift up to Patton's serious expression.

Virgil shrugged, sliding back so he could lean against the wall. “If I’d been caught, that’s what I would have been charged with.”

“Roman would never have let you take the fall for his decision.”

Logan looked up curiously as Patton’s voice trembled.

“At that point, it was our decision.” Virgil said offhandedly. “We both would have been punished.”

“It wasn’t a kidnapping, Virgil.” Patton’s voice was filled with thinly veiled emotions and Logan could see his hands shake as he addressed Virgil. “Not when I went with you willingly.”

General Taglist:

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#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #ts logan #ts virgil #ts patton #You Belong With Me #villain writes

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