#it takes bravery to apologize and admit fault. I really am thankful he did

[ohmuqueen]

I’m so proud of him rn

[today-only-happens-once]

Thoughts on “Flirting with Social Anxiety”: Roman, Virgil, Bravery, and Self-Worth

I originally started by just keeping a running list of thoughts in my head as I watched the “Flirting with Social Anxiety” video for the second time through. But then it started getting long and involved, so I elected to just make a specific post for some of the reflections and analysis my thoughts started to follow down the rabbit hole.

Obligatory reminder that this is just my interpretation of the canon work. You may disagree or interpret things differently, and that’s totally valid. These are just some of my thoughts and where this video (deemed “essential viewing” for the canon story by Thomas) fits in the broader narrative with relation to character arcs (specifically Roman). 

Without further ado, here are some thoughts on the new Sanders Asides video. Apologies for the length. Turns out, I have a lot to say. 

I first found it interesting that the beginning of the video involves a series of scenarios in which Virgil and Roman repeatedly call out Thomas’s lying. First is the movie ticket (though Thomas rightfully defends that it’s not his fault), then the store alarm, and then several other examples--most of which we do not know the actual scenario involved. Given that Virgil has been at odds with Janus repeatedly and heatedly in the past, and the way things ended in “Putting Others First” between Roman and Janus (specifically Roman expressing concern that Thomas will not know where to draw the line between selfishness and taking care of yourself), it makes sense that they would be vigilant against Thomas lying. Perhaps it’s even directly a result of Janus becoming more accepted as a part of Thomas, though we don’t know that for sure. 

I think the first big hint we get regarding Roman’s lingering and worsening self-worth issues is a brief line during the food court scene. Roman is forcing Thomas up while Virgil is pulling him back down to sit. When Virgil snaps “Roman, you’re making a mistake!”, Roman immediately shoots back, “If I am, I’ll add it to the list!” and shoves Thomas forward. And honestly, it’s not an unfounded thing for Roman to say. 

He makes a mistake in the way he treats Virgil early on, he makes a mistake trying to convince Thomas to win back his ex during the Moving On arc, he makes a mistake with the lyrics in 12 Days, he makes a perceived mistake by causing Thomas to choose a cute boy over Joan’s play in Can Lying Be Good, he makes a perceived mistake wanting the callback, and then another mistake by forcing Thomas to attend the wedding instead... The list goes on. (Is it any wonder that he says “mistakes” when Thomas asks how he used to learn things in “Learning New Things About Ourselves”?) It might also be worth noting that nearly all of these mistakes are rooted in somethin Roman wants for Thomas. 

And it is the most recent mistakes (relating to the callback) that have the most narrative weight at the moment. Even though the plot surrounding the callback has moved on, the aftershocks of its ramifications still are impacting characters--perhaps Roman especially. And this video works specifically to make that apparent. Just take a look at the reactions and camera/POV choices during the mirror monologue. 

Thomas mentions a few times in the course of that monologue the idea that he isn’t sure what he wants anymore; the first being acknowledgement that the mall is the place you go when you’re not sure what you want, and again when Thomas says specifically that he doesn’t know what he wants. Both times Thomas speaks to that, the attention is on Roman. In fact, the second time where Thomas is speaking directly about himself and how he doesn’t know what he wants? Roman is looking at Thomas, which makes sense because Thomas is really speaking about Roman when he says that. Because all the times in recent canon that Roman has wanted something for Thomas, it has backfired and it has hurt parts of himself (i.e. other “Sides”, and sometimes Roman himself). 

Though it’s also worth noting, through the course of the mirror monologue, the moments the camera/POV focuses on Virgil. Thomas makes the comment that he doesn’t know anything, least of all himself (and the focus on Virgil in that moment brings to mind that the reveal that Virgil used to be one of the Others). He also says “I know that if I don’t act on these feelings right now, I’m going to regret it” and again, we see a focus on Virgil. Because in this video thus far, Virgil is the one that has been keeping Thomas from “acting on these feelings”. 

I’m not saying anything you all don’t already know. But this is sort of a “present the evidence before you state your case” kind of situation. Heh.

The vigilance and call-outs against lying that I mentioned earlier lends a certain credence to the confrontation that Roman and Virgil have with Thomas after he exits the bathroom. The fact that it is Virgil that initiates that confrontation I think is especially interesting. Furthermore, Virgil goes so far as to use the term “deceit” when he says “will deceit continue to be the answer to all of your problems?”. That term carries a very specific weight in this series. I don’t mean to suggest (necessarily) that Virgil is speaking directly about Janus. Time will tell when the script releases, but I don’t think Virgil means “Deceit”. But I also don’t think that it’s an accident that he uses that word (or that the team wrote the script having him use that word). Given that Virgil was absent in the last video, where Janus became a more accepted part of Thomas, this confrontation about Thomas’s pattern of behavior in this episode is a useful reminder for the character of Thomas and us as an audience that all Sides of Thomas need to be kept in check once in a while. 

But relatedly, Thomas’s conclusion that “he’s better off without me” is an interesting echo of his on-going canonical crisis about whether or not he’s a good person. In this confrontation scene, Roman and Virgil establish that starting a relationship with lies means that the relationship itself won’t be a good one. The blow that seems to cause (or rather, bring to the surface) on Thomas’s self-esteem is an interesting turn--precisely because Roman is no small part of that self-esteem and the issues it’s having. I think it’s a useful and telling glance into some of Roman’s psyche that, while he may be reluctant to admit it, is directly influencing Thomas. 

And that issue of self-worth that is first suggested by the aforementioned “he’s better off without me” gets echoed directly by Roman only a moment later. When he says “one more chance at happiness squandered”, the use of more suggests that he’s not just talking about talking to a cute boy at the mall. He’s talking about all the other chances at happiness that have been squandered--most recently, the callback. The fact that Roman follows it by saying “it’s probably for the best” is an indirect reflection of just a moment ago with Thomas’s “he’s better off without me”. They are, effectively, saying the same thing there. And it strengthens the notion that the comment from Thomas is really rooted in Roman’s self-worth issues.

Which is precisely why Virgil bein the one to shove Thomas forward to talk to the boy is such a big deal. Because Virgil--anxious, panicky (in this video) Virgil--essentially decides no. No, it’s not for the best. That chance of happiness matters, and is worth the perceived risk. What Roman wants matters. And Virgil backs that idea up with decisive, meaningful action more than just words. (I will never not be emotional about it). 

And also... it pays off. And that’s so important for Roman. Because when was the last time that what Roman wanted paid off? I listed his perceived mistakes earlier. None of those, as far as I think Roman would understand, have paid off for him. It’s been a long time since what Roman wanted paid off and was seen as good by others, y’know?

I think that’s why Roman describes Virgil’s shove as “bravery”. I think it’s more than just Roman saying “I know that was scary for you and thank you for doing it anyway” (though there’s an element to that). I think Roman was afraid. I think calling what Virgil did an act of “bravery” might also be Roman saying “you were braver than I, and I am grateful for that”. Because Roman could have been the one to shove Thomas forward. He didn’t. Virgil did. And for Roman, that’s maybe a sign that someone else still thinks that what he wants can be good and right and worth it. 

(Side tangent that it’s also an interesting reflection back to that first episode when Roman claimed “rejection” as something he fears, and again in Fitting In when he acknowledges that Virgil has “been a little too familiar with rejection nad has had his fill”. Just another layer added to the continuing thematic thread about bravery and fear and rejection). 

Right now, its impossible to know for sure exactly why this video was deemed as “essential viewing” for the broader narrative of Sanders Sides. Maybe Nico will be mentioned in videos going forward, or maybe not. But this video definitely seems to have significance for Roman’s character arc and his continuing development, particularly as it relates to his worsening self-esteem issues. I am beyond excited to see where exactly this leads us, and the broader narrative implications of this key moment for Roman (and Virgil too). 

[demonictales]

I have a oneshot idea with Run yu. How about: when Run yu was a child, he met this demon child, reader (maybe a dog or wolf demon) who is a wild child and a prankster, and they became good friends for a while, until the empress took him away from his home. When Run yu grew up, he meets reader again who is a demon lord/lady now. Reader is a charmer and like to cause trouble to the empress. Reader is a troublemaker but always been honest to Run yu even in his hardest time.

that’s such a cute idea, i love it! here we go. let me know if you liked it. 

TW: DROWNING

As a kid, you had it pretty easy. You were an illegitimate child of the demon king and could do whatever you wanted. So naturally you'd steal out of the demon realm and sneak around the heavenly realm and often could be found around Dongtin lake. You'd snuck around it it ever so often, not in your human form but in your small little wolf form. Where most would expect a black wolf with dark eyes, your fur was the brightes white someone had ever seen, it could rival the snow, your eyes were a dark purple, matching your little horns. A monster some would say, but your attitude would come of as adorable next to mischievious.

You met Runyu for the first time when you fell into the lake, of course you were running to fast chasing a stupid bird as you realized you landed in the lake barely able to keep your head over the surface when you felt someone pushing you up. That someone must've heard your desperate yelps. Admittingly, you were a terrible swimmer. Only then when you had ground underneath your feet and looked back into the water you spotted a face and turned back into your human form. A small grin spread on your face as you waved to the boy underneath the surface.

Your father only knew you for causing trouble whereever you went and today was no different, just had just shown someone your true form. The little wolf demon that you were turned into the bastard princess/prince of the demon realm right in front of someone from the heavenly realm. Of course whereever you followed, trouble was near.

The second time you met him, you were in your human form, black robes with white and pruple ornaments were drabbed over your tiny figure, looking much more presentable than last time. You sat on the shore and threw some stones into the lake, hoping that the boy you saw would show up again. After all, you still owed him a thank you for day that he had saved you from drowning. As a wolf it was in your nature to support people who had done something good for you, even now in your younger years. It was the loyalty of a wolf that made you friends in the end. Quickly, your thoughts ended when you saw a movement in the water and became curious. It was him. The little fish that had saved you, but he didn't seem happy.

"Please don't throw stones into the lake. You could hurt someone." His voice was calm but soft as he spoke, but you just stared at him. " I'm sorry. " You admitted a bit meekly, you never apologize, at least only when you were forced to. " But actually it's not my fault. You didn't tell me your name last time. How else was I supposed to find you. ----- " The said apology was still worth nothing. " I am Y/N. I'm from the demon realm. " Before he could ask, you already gave him the answer. " Do you want to play with me? --- "

That day was the day you both became friends for eternity so it seeemed. Nearly everyday for the next 200 years you would sneak into the heavenly real to meet Runyu. You'd play hide and seek around the lake, you taught him how to play fetch and how you could jump as high as you wanted without much effort and he eventually taught you how to swim. Even though you had 200 years together, one day when you came to the heavenly realm, you noticed something was off. There was a strange woman at the lake talking to your friend as you did hide behind some shilf bushes and she took Runyu with her. The next few days you always patiently waited for Runyu to appear but he never did, so you eventually went your own way as a lone wolf again, roaming the heavenly realm quietly and without a friend by your side.

Another 5000 years should have passed for you to meet Runyu again. This time you had to snuck into the heavenly realm again for spying purposes, forced by King Gucheng to do so. He saw no big purpose for you so in case something would be off, you could lose your head. He wouldn't mind. You on the other hand enjoyed drama, chaos and mischief. Not that you enjoyed the bad side of it. You'd never get blood on your hands, but the demon realm knew of your bravery and slight concerning love for daredevil actions, so of course you offered and they'd send you willingly. Of course it couldn't go unnoticed that someone had snuck into the heavenly realm on the empress birthday.

Of course you glamoured yourself, a small broquet doing the trick. Your hair long and openly falling over your back in a black waterfall, your attire s colors were swapped, the fabric purple with black and white ornaments as you seated yourself with the lower class deitys, spotting a very familiar face in the crowd. It was Yanyou.

You had met him several years ago after you roamed the mortal realm. Both of you enjoyed the same things and became friends, you were surprised to see him here and luckily he had not noticed you yet. However, you noticed another glamour spell in the room, right next to him. It wasn't particularly strong but not easy to decipher as well. Natrually you saw a chance for mischief, causing distraction could buy you some time and less eyes on you. Only when everything went quiet your eyes darted to the entrance where the Heavenly Emperor and the Heavenly Empress entered, your purple colored eyes landed on someone beside the emperor. He looked oddly familiar but you could not place a name to his face. He walked so lightly and gracefully as no one you had ever seen before. Quietly from your seat you watched him curiously.

The feast went on smoothly, yet you got bored quite easily as you finally decided to let action break loose. You let a small mouse ran loose and enjoyed the chaos that emerged from your spot, a mischievous smile hard to suppress. The scene unfolded itself, the person who had a galmour spell over her was indeed a young woman of the flower realm. Impressive you thought, but the fact that the empress seemed bothered and angry after hearing these things was enough for you to move on, sneaking out of the banquet walking quietly around the palace and ending up in the night immortals wing.

Runyu had left the banquet after Jinmi was exposed and quietly took care of whatever happened, he ordered Yanyou to take her out of heavenly real and back to the flower real for now. As he had excused himself, he wandered off to where he was needed, to let the night fall in on his way, however, he was delayed as she saw you sneaking around his quarters.

" How may I help you? --- " The night immortal spoke up as he eyes you, his voice smooth and calming, no sense of threat detected. You spun arround, caught in the act of breaking in as a smirk formed on your lips. " I believe I got lost wandering around. --- " You lied, simple as that. Runyu chuckled, knowing you did so but seemingly you did not care. It reminded him of a childhood friend of his.

Not quite sure what it was, you decided to reveal yourself. What could possibly go wrong. If anything, you were fast and could flee within the blink of an eye. Revealing yourself by letting your glamour vanish, your robes were back to their usual black color, decorated with white and purple ornaments, a black iron pin with purple stones keeping your hair up. Your identity now revealed to him, the ever so known smirk never leaving your face.

It dawned on him as to who you where and yet there you stood, still not recognizing him. You had quite matured over the years and grown quite well, yet your character seemed to be still the same. Runyu enjoyed the fact you hadn't changed much. "Y/N -- How long has it been? --- " The night immortal asked you, clearly remembering the childhood friend who was always by his side.

Puzzled as you seemed, you were confused that he knew your name. " Do we know each other? " You spoke frankly, wondering why he asked you of your well being when you were caught red handed in the act of breaking into this royals chamber. He chuckled stepping closer to you as he bowed. " I believe we had spent many years together at the Dongting lake before I was brought to the heavenly palace."

It took you a moment to pin one and one together but eventually your features gave you away, eyes big as you did not dare believe it. "Runyu..?!" It came more out as a question, but the more you thought about it, the more you looked at him, it was him. He was your childhood best friend. A very honest smile formed on your features. He returned the soft smile, nodding. " I can't believe it. Out of every place I snuck in I met you at the heavenly palace.. ----- It has been so long. " The words left your mouth, remembering the days you spent alone without him by your side.

"I have waited for you so many days at the lake for you to come back, but you never came. ----- I was so lonely. " Even though you were grown up, you were still whining, pulling on his sleeve. " You could have at least tell me good bye. It was the empress that took you away from me, wasn't she. " You huffed angrily as you crossed your arms. " She deserved that chaos at her banquett today. That's for taking my only great companion away from me leaving me to wander alone all these years. " Oh, how great it was to be with your friend again. " So it was you that stirred up the chaos at the hall earlier today. " Runyu concluded, not really surprised at your words, even now.

Taking a few steps back you grinned, scratching the back of your neck. " Maybe..---- "

"But I had my reasons. " You continued. " Did I get you in trouble though? If you did, I'm willing to take the punishment. After all I'm your loyal everlasting friend. " Words that you once told him when you were a child, that you'd be friends forever and that your loyalty would never go away until the day you died and you did it today as well, a grown up woman who would now occasionally meet up with him at the dongting lake, the flower real or easily would snuck into heavenly real again at night to meet him.

Finally you had your friend back and would no longer have to wander the world alone.

[lumiolivier]

The Good Old Days Chapter Nineteen: A Dangerous Criminal

A/N: I really need to start scheduling these posts. When I go out of town, I probably will, but here nor there. SO! I know this is up a little late than normal, but I've had a little one to keep up with this morning and I slept a little late, so here. Take this chapter as an apology. Love you! x

This was fucking ridiculous. Why the hell would cops show up on our door? I already called the Old Man, so it wasn’t because of work. All I knew was that some kind of kidnapping was a thing. But on a more positive note, this mess taught me something. And like the Old Man said. There’s no such thing as a mistake if it’s learned from. Then, it’s a lesson. And this lesson was the fact that I had a real ride or die at my side. Vanessa didn’t have to come with me. I would’ve taken her home. In hindsight, I should have. Just to keep her out of the crossfire. Yet, I gave her the option. And she chose me. It felt good to be chosen.

When we got back home, I made sure to keep Vanessa close. I love my brothers, but they’re hounds. And my girlfriend’s cute as fuck. I didn’t see them. We can fix that, “Tony! César! Estoy en casa! Dónde están?”

“Están aqui,” César came out of the bedroom with Tony following closely behind him, “Now, what the fuck did you do?”

“What the fuck, César?” I got defensive, “Nothing! Why did I become the fucking suspect of a sudden?”

“Because,” César growled, “When those cops were here, I was watching them to make sure they weren’t planting anything. That’s why.”

“About that, César…” Tony chimed in.

“Not now, Tony,” César snapped, “I’m too fucking pissed to deal with your bullshit.”

“And what exactly did I do that brought cops here?” I regained his focus, “Not to mention, warrant you chewing me a new asshole here?!”

“I’m glad you asked, Frankie,” César sat down, “They asked both Tony and me when the last time we had any contact with Vanessa Scarlotti was.”

“Me?” Vanessa wondered, “The other day. Why would they want to know that?”

“Their prime suspect is considered a dangerous criminal from around here,” César started to calm down, “I didn’t say she was dating my little brother. I didn’t even say I knew her. Apparently, you were kidnapped, Vanessa.”

“And I’m a dangerous criminal?” I scoffed, “I mean, I know I do some sketchy shit for the Old Man from time to time, but I wouldn’t exactly say I’m dangerous. Not for her anyway.”

“I feel pretty safe with you,” Vanessa cuddled into me, “I hate to say it, Frankie. Especially since last night was so wonderful. But this feels like my mother’s handiwork.”

“Does she have any pull with local porkchops?” César got up and walked to the window, opening up a new pack of cigarettes.

“A few,” she winced, “But again. She doesn’t need the pull. She has the family name.”

“She wouldn’t go this far, though,” I took her hand, “Right?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“So,” César lit his cigarette, “You didn’t do anything?”

“No,” I assured him, “Aside from what I do for the Old Man, I stay out of trouble.”

“Ok,” César let it go, his hand on my shoulder, “Good. I got worried for a sec, Frankie.”

“You know me better than that,” I threw an arm around my girl, “I’m just kidnapping one girl these days.”

“I’m with him willingly,” Vanessa swore, “If this ever goes to court, consent goes a long way.”

“So,” I figured, “If this does go to court, I’d be in the clear?”

“Frankie,” she kissed my cheek, “You got the best damn almost legal council in the city. Let them put my ass on the stand. Let them try to use dirty tricks on me. Take everything I say out of context. I fucking dare them. I know those same tricks. I got this.”

If she’s not careful, I might want to keep her around, “That is the hottest fucking thing you have ever said.”

“I wouldn’t get too excited if I were you,” Vanessa settled me, “If this is my mother at work, which it’s starting to feel that way, she’d make sure I never got on the stand. She’d spin it to where I’m too traumatized after everything I’ve been through to think clearly. Therefore, everything I’d say would automatically be ruled invalid. But I’d be sure to push for a psych evaluation, so it’s not totally her word against mine.”

“Ok, I lied, “I held onto her, never wanting to let her go, “That was the hottest thing you’ve ever said.”

“I’m serious, Frankie,” she gave me a little smack to the shoulder, “I’m trying to keep your ass out of jail, if it gets that far. You’re too pretty for prison. You know…Since I’m in love with a dangerous criminal.”

“I kidnapped the oldest daughter of the Scarlotti family from their party last night,” I gave her a little kiss, “And I’d be glad to do it again and again and again. I get what I want.”

“You didn’t kidnap me,” Vanessa laid her head on my shoulder, “You liberated me, Frankie. You did what any loving boyfriend would and got me the fuck out of there. I can’t ever fault you for that.”

“Not that this isn’t a touching moment,” César stepped in, effectively killing that touching moment, “But what are we going to do? I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not deal with…”

Knock, knock.

Out of sheer survival instinct, my brothers and I ducked in front of the couch, making sure we weren’t visible from the door. If someone’s knocking, they don’t come back without a warrant. It was at that moment where I truly realized how different my world and Vanessa’s world were. She got up from the couch and checked the peephole. I’d put that girl’s bravery against any US Marine any day of the week, “You’re safe, boys. No cops.”

Maybe she did get it. A little anyway. I watched her fiddle with the lock and let the Old Man in, “Hiya, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Old Man,” Vanessa fell into his arms with the biggest smile on her face. I loved seeing those two together as much as Vanessa with Mama. He adored her. I knew he’d never try anything with her. Or worse, get her involved with anything. Unless I needed emergency council. Then, she’d gladly step in.

“You know,” he thought, “I was here to see your man and maybe his brothers just to make sure they were all doing ok, but I wasn’t expecting to meet you at the door.”

“Here I am,” she shrugged, “Where else would you find me?”

“I’m finding you all over the place,” the Old Man took a spot at the kitchen table, “What kind of shit have you gotten yourself into, Frankie?”

“See?” César jumped down my throat, “I knew I wasn’t going to be the only one to think you fucked up!”

“Thanks, Old Man,” I rolled my eyes, “Now, you got him started.”

“Sorry, kid,” the Old Man chuckled to himself, “But you are definitely in some deep shit here. This is just me, but if I were you, I’d be laying low today. No calling any attention to yourself.”

“That sounds like a hell of an idea,” I agreed. I already had plans to stay around home today anyway.

“You know what?” Vanessa got up from my lap, “I think I’ll just go home and make nice. Maybe I can make this all just blow over.”

“Vanessa,” I tried to hold her back, “No. You don’t need to deal with that.”

“Frankie,” she gave me one last kiss, “I’d much rather sneak out to see you here than a conjugal visit in jail. I can take care of this, too. It’s alright. Besides, I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Promise?” I didn’t want to let her go. I knew what kind of fire she’d be walking into and I didn’t like the feeling it put in my stomach.

“I promise,” Vanessa curled into my shoulder, “Where should we meet? And when?”

“How about…” I thought it over, “You and me. Downtown Diner. Back corner booth?”

“They have the best fucking coconut cream pie,” she swooned, “Yes, please.”

“Alright then,” I kissed her cheek, “It’s a date. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yes, you will,” Vanessa swore, getting a better kiss out of me. And far be it for me to say no.

“I love you, Vanessa…”

“I love you more,” she got up from my lap and walked out the door. I’m going to miss her. But I’ll see her tonight. At least I sure as fuck hope so. I don’t want this little patch of bullshit to ruin us. Although…Now that I think about it…Dammit, Veronica might be onto something.

“You know, Frankie,” the Old Man hid a little smile on his face, “You need to keep that one around.”

“That’s the plan for the foreseeable future,” I admitted, “If we ever break up, I’m definitely keeping her number. She’s going to make a hell of a lawyer one day.”

“You think so?”

“Oh fuck yeah,” I nodded, “She already had the fucking court case figured out if charges ever get pressed. I love this girl, Old Man. She’s something special.”

“You do need to lay low for the day, Frankie,” César warned me, “Like…I might not let you leave this apartment kind of lay low.”

“It’s not going to be that bad,” the Old Man vouched for me. And God bless him. There’s no way in hell I’m going to be ok being held captive by my oldest brother. I love César. I really do. But Jesus Christ…Being stuck in this apartment with him all day until I get to go run for the Old Man and he goes to the restaurant sounds like my own personal hell. And I don’t need that in my life, “Because I know you’d be going stir crazy here, kid, why don’t you come work in the Narrows for the day?”

“Because I don’t do that enough at night?” I giggled.

“That’s not what I meant,” he clarified, “I’m saying you come bartend in the Narrows.”

“Really?” It’s not that I couldn’t do it. It’s that…Really? I thought I started working for the Old Man in order to get away from shit like that.

“What?” he jabbed, “You too good for honest work anymore? You figured getting in close with one of the biggest bosses in the city was your ticket to the good life?”

“It has been, Old Man,” I pointed out, “It’s not like I’ve been struggling too hard lately. Mama doesn’t even know I’ve paid the rent for the next six months in full already.”

“Excuse me?” César gasped.

“Yeah, Frankie!” Tony squeaked, “When were you going to tell us this?”

“Where the fuck has our money been going?”

“Relax,” I settled them, “There’s been a jar in the ceiling tiles for the last couple months. That’s where your money’s been going. I was thinking it’d go to the Spain trip.”

“It has been a while since we’ve been home,” César admitted, “That’d be nice.”

“Old Man,” I asked, “Would you be cool with letting me go for a couple weeks while we go visit la familia?”

“I’m appalled that you thought you had to ask,” the Old Man scoffed, “Of course, I would. That’s fine. Now, it’s settled. You’re coming with me and you’re bartending in the Narrows for the day. That way, if someone wants to get curious and finds out where Francisco Mendoza works, it’s honest. It’s not like you’re on any official paperwork for the other side of things. It’ll be alright. Now, I’ll ask you again. Are you too good to bartend in the Narrows, Frankie?”

“No,” I shook my head.

“Good answer,” the Old Man got up from the table, “It’s alright, César. I can keep an eye on him for the day and make sure he stays out of trouble. And if he gets into trouble, it’ll be all on me.”

“Alright,” César let me go. He knew the Old Man wasn’t going to let me get in too deep of trouble. He knew where I’d be. I wouldn’t be surprised if both César and Tony come in either before work or on their break. My brother threw an arm around me and hugged me tight, “Be. Fucking. Careful.”

“Eggshells,” I promised him, “Got it.”

And just like that, I went from letting Vanessa go back home to the bar in the Narrows where the Old Man’s office was tucked away. As I liked to call it, my favorite front. If anything needed to be taken care of, it went through here. It wasn’t too far away from the warehouse either. I think there might be an alley between them. Still, this bar was starting to feel like a second home to me. I mean, I was in here every single night. With the exceptions of Sundays. The Old Man was a stickler for tradition and I got Sundays off. It’s weird to think I’ll be working honest in here…

“You do know how to mix a drink,” the Old Man hoped, “Right, kid?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “Don’t worry about it. I got this handled.”

“Good,” he nudged me forward, “Then, get behind the bar and get to work.”

“Got it, boss,” I gladly jumped behind the bar. When I still worked at the restaurant, our usual bartender would call in for a hangnail and I’d be the one taking her shift. Those were the few nights at the restaurant that were actually fun. No amount of money would ever make me want to go back there, but I could get used to this. If the Old Man ever wanted to make this a little more permanent. But that would mean bartending full time on top of the running I did for him. I’m sure I’d be able to manage.

If we’re being honest, this isn’t all that bad. It’s peaceful in its own special way. People that came in here weren’t too terribly loud or demanding. It was nice. I liked it here. It’s pretty alright. I could get used to this. Although, I couldn’t help but worry. I hope Vanessa’s doing ok. I’m sure she’s getting chewed out by her mother like I did with César when we got back earlier. Still…I couldn’t wait to see her tonight. Downtown Diner was a damn good diner. Food was cheap, but fuck, it was so good. I’m impressed her blue blood doesn’t burn when she walks in. Then again, Vanessa isn’t just any blue blood.

“Kidnapped daughter of the Scarlotti family was returned safely this afternoon,” the fuzzy TV above me barked, immediately catching my attention. Excuse me? I’m pretty sure she wasn’t kidnapped. We just went over this. She was never kidnapped. You’re only getting one side of the story, Channel 2. Sure enough, Vanessa’s lovely mother was plastered on the news, not Vanessa. Just like Vanessa said, she’s going to spin this where Vanessa’s too traumatized to talk about what the scoundrel did to her.

Victoria’s words burned my ass to no end. She didn’t know me. The only thing she knew was that I had no pedigree. That I wasn’t hand picked by her. That I was just some mutt from Williamsburg after Vanessa for her money. She’s milking this for sympathy and it made me fucking sick. I couldn’t do this. If I kept going, I knew I was going to end up taking out some unbridled rage on a customer and I made a promise to César I wouldn’t call any attention to myself. Pretty sure a bar fight would not be in my best interest. So, what did I do? The next best thing.

“Old Man,” I walked into his office like I owned the place and shut the door behind me, “We got a problem. And a really big one.”

“I know,” the Old Man empathized, “I saw. Trust me, Frankie. Vanessa’s a good girl and I fucking love her to pieces.”

“You’re telling me,” I grumbled. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for that girl. If it meant throwing myself into fire for the sake of keeping her warm, damn right, I would.

“But believe me when I say Victoria Scarlotti is a mess,” he swore, “She is beyond a mess. I love you, kid. You don’t want to tangle with that.”

“If it means getting Vanessa out of that tangle,” I stood my ground, “I’d do it a thousand times over. Old Man, I love her daughter. I love two of her daughters! Because I can’t leave Veronica out of this either. You saw what I did for her. I’d fucking kill someone for Veronica. Just imagine what I’d be prepared to do for Vanessa.”

“I’m telling you, Frankie,” the Old Man warned me, “It will not be pretty.”

“But she is,” I argued, holding back a little smile, “I see this is what I have to look forward to. She’s going to have to learn to make nice with me.”

“What do you mean?” he wondered, “Victoria’s not a tiger that changes her stripes so easily. Why do you think she’s going to make nice with you?”

“I don’t care if we don’t have her approval,” I could finally start to relax again, “I haven’t really told anyone this. Hell, I haven’t even said it out loud to myself. But…”

The Old Man knew where I was taking this, but he had to coax it out of me, “But…? Something you’d care to share with the rest of us, Frankie?”

I couldn’t keep this shit to myself anymore. I wanted to scream it from the roof of the Empire State Building if I had to. Someone’s bound to find out eventually, “I think I want to marry Vanessa…”

[kawaiijellymonster]

So I’ve got a note in my notes app called “Fanfic lines that should be in a hall of fame” and it’s gotten pretty long so I figure I’ll toss it on here so yall can enjoy it, most of them are: mha, zukka, miraculous ladybug, harry potter, and I think one is from a comment on a hannibal amv, But here you go:

Stain sold papers because he just had an aura about him that drew people in, like people who slow down to look at car crashes.

“The Rumor Come Out: Does Todoroki Shoto is Gay?”

Izuku spent the next week going to his normal martial arts classes, studying, and drinking gallons of coffee. Not healthy but he could deal with it. His body was never meant to be permanent.

So no one was watching when Mei placed her forehead against his, breath fanning across his face as she spoke. "Wake up Loki… the world needs you."

“No probs ‘lil listener!” Hizashi said, striking a dramatic pose. “I’ll be your DJ all through the night, bringin’ you such rockin’ hits as safety, security and sweet dreams!”

“This is stupid! Screw the waiting and screw these stupid butterflies. They're not paying rent, the little shits--”

Experimenting with unstable genetic mutant abominations is more of an art than a science, really."

Several looks pass across both their faces. “No flying for a month,” Sirius declares. That sucks, actually. But he’s also a hundred percent certain he can get them to cave on that in two weeks tops. “Okay. Is that for the breaking into the Ministry, destroying the Department of Mysteries, making a bargain with Voldemort, or bringing all my friends with me?” “It’s for recklessly endangering your own life again,” Remus says, “and while the punishment very much doesn’t fit the crime, we’re a bit at a loss for what else to do.” “It wasn’t reckless!” he protests. “We had a plan and everything, and we even brought an adult! An adult Order member! Also what else were we supposed to do, let Snape die?” Sirius takes a deep breath, but Remus steps on his foot before he can put it in his mouth. “Which is why you’re only getting flying privileges taken away and not thrown in a cell in Azkaban for our sanity and your safety.” As if any cell could hold him. “I accept your terms.”

“Who’s Theophania?” Sirius asks. Harry hesitates. Perhaps bringing her up was his smartest decision, strategically speaking. “If I tell you you’re not allowed to throw me in Azkaban. Or ground me.” “This isn’t a negotiation,” Sirius repeats. If Blaise has taught him anything, it’s that everything is a negotiation. “She’s a friend.” “And?” Sirius repeats. Remus suddenly grabs onto Sirius’s shoulder, “Wait. Petrifying - during your second year - is Theophania - she’s not the basilisk.” “No, they killed it,” Sirius says automatically. Harry remains silent. “Harry!” He rubs his nose. “It turns out I’m not that good at killing things. Unkilling things, however? My specialty.”

“It’s okay,” Nanaia says, “you don’t know. What do you do when you don’t know something?” “Try something you do know and hope it doesn’t make everything worse?” For some reason, Horace looks sad at that answer, and Dumbledore shifts from one foot to the other. “No,” she says, “you ask for help.” Oh.

“It’ll piss off your son,” he answers bluntly. “Fuck that kid,” Riddle Sr. says

“You played me!” “Like a cheap kazoo”

Batman sighed, before speaking in a voice that was so unlike his usual growl that most of the other League members almost fell out of their chairs. Diana and Clark seemed to be used to it. “Damian,” he started. His voice was still deep, but a regular-deep, instead of I-just-swallowed-six-buckets-of-gravel deep.

“She loved James too,” she assures, and the confidence she says that with allows him to breathe, like someone has let go of his lungs. “It is possible to love more than one person at the same time. She loved your father with the type of love that’s – that was like a shooting star, burning and bright and touching everyone around them. Her love for Severus was different, and in the end it wasn’t the type of love either of them could handle.”

You’re better at it now then many people are after leaving a full apprenticeship, and you’ve only had a year of lessons a couple of times a week instead of years of intensive study. Do you know why that is?” “Luck?” he offers weakly. For some reason, he doesn’t like the direction this is going in. “No,” she says. “To be good at healing, the way you are, the way I am, you need a certain combination of things. Intelligence, power, control, but more than that. Stubbornness, a tricky balance of flexibility and inflexibility, and a constant, brutal assessment over your own skills. And something else.” “A propensity towards poor life choices?” he suggests. Poppy shakes her head, not taking the bait. “No. You have to care. You have to care about everyone, even people you dislike, and you have to care so much that if feels like it’s killing you, you have to care and that care has to hurt, until the only thing that hurts worse than caring is not caring. To be good at this, you have to let it hurt you.”

“You two shouldn’t have bothered dressing formally for Albus, he’s a bitch.” Harry doesn’t have any idea what’s going on, but he’s loving it.  

“It was on the syllabus,” Zuko whispered conspiratorially to his mother. Sokka gasped. “You know I don’t read those!” “This is your own fault then.” “I like to be surprised. The procrastination keeps me humble.”

sometimes you remind me of the stars youre gorgeous and happy and can always brighten me on the darkest days and even when youre dampened you can guide me home

“imagine you are the only person who loves to play chess more than anything but nobody else in the world has ever heard about chess. and then you see a person holding a chessboard. it’s like your whole world was reborn”

"I wanted to be a stripper in middle school," Izuku said. Yup, that's a good cover.

What you’re asking for isn’t fair or right. You can’t ask a person for more than they’re willing to give

In Mei’s words, “You have about five minutes of ‘fuck that one thing in particular.’ Make them count.”

“Mei, let me introduce your new best friend. This is Momo. She has a Quirk that lets her make anything as long as she knows its composition inside and out. All you have to do is buy her dinner,“ Izuku said,

The cameras were looped. The bots were hacked. It was a good day to be a villain.

“None. The alarm never left the building.” “Really? Why is that?” “Mei finished first and decided to do you a favor. However, you've got the fire alarm just starting to go off and that's on a different circuit. Take a fast way down.” “Understood,” Hitoshi drawled. A moment later he was looking back at the crew. “Ladies and Frenchman. We take the express.”

Quinn is talking like that actually answers his question when it really, really doesn’t. “If you don’t start making sense, I’ll cry.”

“You’re one of my best students,” ze says. “You should understand the importance of timing. Speaking of, you’re late for your next class.”

Fuck, he totally is. “Thank you for that very confusing answer. I’ll think of you while crying myself to sleep.”

He’d wondered if that was what bravery was, to be quiet even when you were hurting so much you wanted to scream.

maybe bravery was also running screaming at the thing that nearly killed you, to keep it from killing someone else.

“Apologies are not difficult. Good apologies revolve around three basic points. One, I acknowledge what I did was wrong. Two, I regret that you were harmed. Three, this is how I plan to make sure it does not happen again. That’s all. Apologies are easy.” Then she’d glanced at them all again, evaluating. “And if you become very, very good at your job... they will be the absolute hardest thing you ever do.”

“Even though we’re a bunch of migraine-inducing hellions who are smart enough to know when something is a bad idea and stupid enough to still do it?”

“You’re like the nice china that Al only brings out for Christmas. Except Bruce just realised that I stole it, and chipped it. Maybe it’s time I give it back before I shatter all the pieces.”

she won’t co-parent my perfectly reasonable and well-behaved children.” Clark snorts. “Damian’s trying to stab Tim, right now.”

"Oh, my knight in shining armour. What would I do without you?" the teen droned, placing a dramatic hand on her head. 

"I think you mean 'knight in shining leather', M'Lady. And without me, you would be left alone in this kingdom of lies.”

"It's a kingdom, alright. It'll topple sooner or later." "That's the spirit!" Adrien laughed.

Here’s something that a harbinger of tragedy would never find the courage to admit: there are moments in between the bitter self-hatred and the visceral, tangible consequences of your sins in which you almost think you’re worthy of forgiveness; of second chances; of a life beyond your greatest regrets. It’s a unique brand of pain,

“Go directly to horny jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.”

“You can’t wait around for him to be sorry,” Izuku says. He’s quiet now. This isn’t something that’s meant to be shouted. “Maybe he’ll never be sorry. Maybe he doesn’t know he did anything wrong, or he doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter.” Cautiously he takes a step forward. “You can’t depend on the people who hurt you to be the ones to make it better, or it’s never going to get better. They’ll only disappoint you, or hurt you even worse, and then they’ll be gone and you’ll be waiting forever.”

Midoriya may be strong as hell, but that just means looking out for him has to be a team effort.

How would his new adoring fans react if they knew he raised a villain? He's no All-Might. His pillar's made of toothpicks, and it's not gonna take much to crack it.”

Tensei approaches Rei, “Okay, this plan is childish, unprofessional, and a discourtesy to this school's reputation. That being said, when do we nail the little twat?

Hinata is dead. Deceased. Passed away, laid to rest with a headstone that reads Here Lies Hinata Shouyou, Killed By A Wink And A Blown Kiss.

It’s dangerous to be a bad father when you have life insurance

[nofearofwaves]

O’er Golden Halls

A lokaneweek fic

Prompts: First, Fake Dating, Marriage of Convenience, Family

FF.net link

Ao3 link

Arms flailing like jellyfish tentacles, Jane wiggled out of her cocktail dress and pulled on her pajamas. Her feet sang with aching pain, marks from her sandal straps etched in red lines across her ankles. When she collapsed on the bed, it heaved around her like a ship at sea. Maybe that was just her punch-drunk head.

The bachelorette party had been fun. Darcy didn't need to twist her arm to get Jane to admit that. Even though she would have preferred something quieter, like a board game extravaganza, she had to admit that Darcy's idea of sampling every brand of Norwegian vodka in the liquor store—along with some questionable mixers—had led to a lot of fun at the karaoke bar later.

She certainly would never forget the sight of Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, brandishing her pumps in one hand and a microphone in the other, crooning You're So Vain while Natasha streamed it directly to Tony's cellphone.

Good times.

Despite it all though, Jane knew she would be happy when the wedding was over. Of course she was excited to marry Loki, but the bustle and fuss around the affair had been exhausting. Never one to imagine her hypothetical wedding in any detail—who wanted to think about dresses or party favors when the stars beckoned?—Jane had found the sheer number of details waiting her personal approval to be a constant stream of mild to moderate irritants.

Eventually, she left most of the planning to Darcy, who not only knew her personality and interests, but had much more definite ideas of how a wedding should be than Jane did.

See above: bachelorette party.

But Loki had had some strong preferences too. He insisted upon the ceremony being held on Friday, and the venue had been his exclusive choice. Though surprised that he'd want a destination wedding, Jane couldn't fault it; there was a rugged magnificence to the cliffs overlooking the fjord, and a clear purity in the air that made her feel as though each breath was the first one she'd ever taken.

Also, being so far from civilization meant the stargazing was fantastic.

Not that she could take advantage of it now. Clouds had bloomed thick in the sky every day they'd been there, and Jane suspected she would be looking at the view through the plastic windows of an event tent. Rain was in the forecast, because of course it was.

Groaning, she shook her head. The weather, like her wedding, like her headache, was out of her control. Everything was doubled and fuzzy; Jane closed her eyes and wished for only one thing:

That she wouldn't have a hangover tomorrow.

She dreamed. Fantastic visions floated across the hazy dark field of her sleeping mind, gone before she could grasp them. Explosions of color exploded from the black—a nebula, maybe?—but she passed through in a blink.

Then she was standing in a field, tall with sweet-smelling grass. Loamy dirt was a soft carpet beneath her bare feet. Summer was heavy in the air, the atmosphere itself verdant and blooming. She tilted her head back and enjoyed a touch of hot sunlight and a breath of gentle wind on her face.

A hall rose before her, dazzling in the sunlight. Its vaulted beams were thick as cathedral pillars, carved in intricate patterns from single, colossal trees. Its doors could have welcomed a stampede of giants, who would have marveled to see the intricate whorls of wrought iron that decorated them. But the roof was the hall's crowning glory, thatched magnificently with beaten shields of soft, yielding gold. Each shield had its own crest; Jane could see animals, ciphers, writing, plants, even what looked like mathematical equations. No two were the same.

She shook her head. Something about this place struck a spark in her memory, but she couldn't think what that meant.

Her feet moved of their own volition, winding her down a footpath towards the hall.

The great doors opened as she approached, a bare sliver providing enough room for Jane to sneak through. As she did, a raucous chorus of joyous voices spilled out into the air. Moving into the smokey hall was like jumping into the middle of a carnival.

Long tables, so long they faded beyond Jane's sight, seated thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of...well, some were people, but others...

Jane knew half a dozen alien species; the number here exceeded that by a factor of ten. None of them took special note of her as she inched up an aisle between tables, darting a glance at a face here and there. She didn't know why she was being timid. This was just a dream. A hell of a dream, but just—

"Welcome, Jane Foster. Daughter of Michael and Helen Foster. Astrophysicist. Savior of my sons."

She gaped, shaking her head as though to clear the sight of Lady Frigga from her eyes. The vision didn't fade. "Your majesty," she gasped, dipping her head, "I—what—you're," too many questions. "Where are we?"

"Ah, yes," the queen smiled, good humor beaming from her face, "I forgot. Welcome to Valhalla."

"Val—" she ran out of breath. "Am I dead?"

"By no means," Frigga held out her hand and drew her down the hall. "No, I hope and believe you have many years of life left before you. You must forgive me; when I heard news of your engagement to my son, I knew I had to speak with you. Even in death, I am a sorcerer of no mean ability. I have brought your soul here; your body remains on Midgard."

"Oh," she managed, faintly. Suddenly Frigga's arm under hers was a necessary support. Again, questions crowded her, but she couldn't decide which one should have priority. So she let Frigga continue.

"I admit, I was very surprised to hear of your connection with Loki. I can remember no women who, once beloved of Thor, spared a thought for him."

"Oh," she swallowed. "Um. I realize how it must seem, your Majesty, but Thor and I broke up—ended our relationship—as good friends. Loki and I had more in common, and the more we worked together, the more we realized it," when Frigga only smiled in reply, Jane went on, "I really want you to know that I love Loki for who he is, not because he's a prince or anything like that. I didn't like Thor for that either, but I know how it looks and I don't want you to think that I'm some kind of—"

"You needn't defend yourself to me, Jane. Your loving Loki is enough of a recommendation to be, even had I not known and liked you before. I did not bring you here to dispute your marriage. I only wanted to talk of Loki a little. He is so hard to know."

Jane couldn't argue that.

They continued down the hall in silence, any possibility of conversation drowned by loud voices on either side. Understanding now that this was Valhalla, Jane knew that everyone there must have arrived by virtue of a glorious death in battle. Many seemed to be recounting these deaths, telling ever-taller tales of desperate last stands, innocents saved, or cataclysms averted. Not the way she'd like to spend eternity, but she couldn't help but be glad, wholly glad, that there was some recompense for bravery after death.

If knowledge of the Norse gods hadn't yet shaken Earth's foundations, this definitely would.

Frigga took her into a quiet alcove, hung with tapestries of Asgard and the surrounding stars. There was nothing else there but a cask of mead, golden goblets, a rough wooden table, and a few three-legged stools. Did anyone sleep in the afterlife?

Frigga poured them both a drink and motioned Jane to a seat.

"Tell me," her eyes sparkled with warm interest, "how did it happen?"

Her tongue loosened by the strong mead, Jane launched into a description of her and Loki's staggering courtship. In retrospect, the story was tangled as a skein of yarn, with as many knots and twists as smooth, unbroken string. Jane mostly talked about their firsts: first date, first kiss, first declaration of love. Each one had its own...colorful history.

More than once Frigga laughed aloud at her descriptions of their missteps on the road to happiness. More than once, her eyes shone with tears.

"Thank you for this, Jane," she said, as Jane finished, "Hearing this has made me very happy. I would apologize for some of my son's mistrust and misdeeds, but..." her lips drew together, troubled by painful memories. "I know Loki has changed—you never knew him when he was a child—but I suppose he was always this way. Growing up under the great shadow of Odin, and the lesser one of Thor, Loki found little sunlight for himself. I favored him, as he had talents I understood, but I was only his mother."

"I know that my childhood wasn't anything like his," Jane replied, choosing her words with care, "but I understand being ignored and humiliated by the world. In a way, our shared sense of injustice brought us together. Maybe that seems petty, but...discovering that sense in another person was cathartic, in a way."

"I understand. A lifetime of slights is no easy thing to overcome," she sighed, "I only wished I had seen those slights for what they were: poisoned arrows in his heart. If I had, I might have," she shook her head, "but such thoughts do no good, now."

"Loki knew that you loved him," Jane reached out a hand to where Frigga's knotted together. "He loved—loves—loved you too. I'm sorry," she eyed her empty goblet, "I don't know...you're still alive, aren't you? I don't really know what tense to use."

Frigga smiled. "Is not love always present, even if the object of it is gone?"

Jane swallowed. Dream, vision-quest, whatever, this was way too much wisdom to process when she was getting progressively more drunk. The only solution she saw was to have more mead, and pray Frigga didn't want an answer.

But the queen's head raised, distracted. "At last," she stood, "I was wondering when he would get to bed. He was always such a night owl."

"Who?"

"Your groom," she smiled. "I will go fetch him. Please," from thin air, she plucked a wooden tray of salt bread, smoked fish, and sliced cheese and laid it on the table, "help yourself."

Jane picked off a sliver of cheese and almost groaned aloud at its creamy texture and sharp flavor. Everything in Valhalla felt, if anything, more true to its own nature than things on Earth. How could that be possible in an afterlife? Shouldn't any afterlife, by definition, be less real than real life?

Her more elevated mind wanted a debate, with rational answers. Her monkey brain thought food good and stuck with that. By the time Frigga returned, she'd eaten half a loaf of bread, two smoked herrings, and a small wheel of cheese.

Loki looked as stunned as she had, finding himself face-to-face with Frigga. Jane smiled at the childlike vulnerability and openness in his face. Wrinkles were gone from his forehead, tension from his jaw. It was as though long years of bitterness had melted away, allowing room for hope—hope for love, for redemption, for family—to revive in his heart. His fingers were interlaced with Frigga's, and though he nodded to Jane, he sat next to his mother rather than her.

She didn't resent it. How could she? He looked so peaceful.

"Your bride has been telling me of your relationship," Frigga said, pouring Loki some mead. "I cannot tell you how pleased I am that the two of you found each other."

"Yes," for the first time, Loki really looked at Jane. The smile he gave her was heartbreaking in its artless simplicity. "I never thought it possible to love someone in this way."

Her throat seized up. Jane knew his difficulties with emotional honesty, but it shook her to her core to hear so openly sentiments she only rarely heard from him.

Frigga nodded, radiating joy and contentment like the goddess she was. "There are gifts I would like to give you. If I may?"

They both nodded.

"A tradition among our people, Jane, is to braid the hair of a bride. May I do that with you?"

"Of course," she nodded, hoping that her hair hadn't knotted too badly from any drunken tossing and turning. Frigga moved to her side and drew Jane's hair between clever, nimble fingers. As she wove, she talked with Loki. Gave advice. Shared sorrows. Lanced painful sores from the past.

Jane kept silent. She knew Frigga was speaking so personally to Loki in her presence for her benefit, but it was still a conversation that deserved a veil of privacy. She listened, heart aching, as Loki—almost in a trance—confessed his insecurities, his jealousies, his faults.

Frigga would not allow him to descend into self-recrimination. As only a mother could, she helped shift blame's burden where it belonged to be. Yet she also agreed when Loki touched on truth.

Nor was the conversation solely about fault or blame. Jane laughed aloud as they recalled old jokes, well-worn stories, family history that didn't rest on pain or secrets. In a half-hour, in a year, in however long they lingered in that dreamlike hall, Jane learned more about Loki—his past, his hopes, his ambitions—than she'd learned in their five years together.

At last, Frigga placed the last pin in her hair.

"Beautiful," she said, surveying Jane up and down.

"Yes," Loki agreed, wide-eyed.

Jane blushed. "Can I see it?"

"Best wait until tomorrow," Frigga said, adjusting a curl where it lay over her forehead. "It is not finished yet."

She stood, turning to the wall. From an alcove Jane hadn't noticed—maybe it hadn't even been there—she drew a crown woven of golden straw, jeweled with fragrant violet flowers.

"My own bridal crown was lost with Asgard," she said, "so I cannot give it to you. This one is a poor substitute, but I hope you will accept it."

Jane couldn't speak, her throat so tight it felt like a fist constricting it. Tears stung her eyes and burned her nose. She didn't answer. She stood and threw her arms around Frigga, hugging her as she had longed to hug her own mother, the night before her wedding. Silent sobs shook her; Frigga stood firm.

She whispered. "Be well, Jane Foster."

Jane woke, jerking upright in bed, sheets slithering to the floor. Loki snoozed beside her, expression lax and calm with sleep. The bedroom was so familiar and mundane that, for a wild moment, Jane really believed she'd dreamed it all. Then she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror next to the bed.

A crown suited her well.

Lost in her reflection, she didn't hear Loki wake until he touched her wrist.

"Mother sent another gift," he said, nodding towards the window.

Puzzled, she followed his gaze.

Golden sunlight, heavy with pollen and summer heat, poured across the floor. It promised to be a beautiful day.

[sammrps]

“If you’re going to break my heart, you don’t get to lean on me anymore. You don’t get to talk to me anymore, and you sure as hell don’t get to expect me to feel sorry for you.”

“If you’re going to break my heart, you don’t get to lean on me anymore. You don’t get to talk to me anymore, and you sure as hell don’t get to expect me to feel sorry for you” 

It was perhaps the harshest Cadence’s voice had ever gotten with Dana, which made it hurt all the more. While Dana was aware that whatever it was they were doing wasn’t fair to anyone –– Nikko included, she couldn’t bring herself to actually solidify both their feelings or their relationship. She liked that Cadence was always the first one to ask her if she was okay, to tell her about her day, to binge watch her favorite show even if it was just trashy television, or help her make vegan cookies for her classroom. Cadence was more than her best friend, she was her rock and in the end, Dana knew deep down that she cared about her more than she was willing to admit. 

Dana had been in the kitchen washing dishes when Cadence had her outburst. It was a final straw of sorts, at least that’s what Dana had suspected since earlier this morning Nikko had proposed with a shiny silver band during brunch. Dana loved Nikko, more than she could really put into words because he had been the lifeboat in the most torrential part of her life and at one point she saw everything in their future –– marriage, children, a big house with a white picket fence. But ever since she and Cadence began to have their little moments, a kiss here, a makeout session there, the cuddling, and the long deep talk, that had changed. While Dana still wanted all of those things, she had slowly begun to realize she wanted that with Cadence, not Nikko. 

After the heartbreaking rejection, she had given to Nikko they had come back to the apartment and did some talking, which led to arguing. It ultimately ended with Nikko slamming a door and leaving and with Dana compulsively cleaning everything in the house so that she wouldn’t have to deal with the actual issues at hand. Of course, that had been shortened by Cadence who had come in to confront her. Truthfully, after talking with Nikko, Dana felt liberated, she felt like she could finally give in to her real feelings instead of being scared of them. Instead, she was greeted by an angry Cadence who no doubt probably heard of the proposal but had suspected Dana said yes instead of no. 

Stopping her movements, Dana stared down at the sink of half clean dishes before swiping at her eyes and gathering enough bravery to turn around and face Cadence. Looking at her now, Dana wanted to apologize for everything she had put her through –– the mind games, the flirting, the falling for her, everything. But that wasn’t what she did. Dana had always been the type of person to prioritize other people’s feelings over her own but after all the emotional distress from turning down Nikko’s proposal and having to now deal with Cadence thinking she’d really just go and marry her brother despite everything they had going on between them, Dana was done. “Screw you, Cadence” She managed to get through without a single sob, although they were bound to come later when she was alone again. Wiping her hands on her skirt, Dana pushed past Cadence before turning around to give her another look, “I didn’t say yes, but thanks for not feeling sorry for me” She added, the last bit had an overwhelming tone of sarcasm that Dana got when she was particularly upset.

“If you’re going to break my heart, you don’t get to lean on me anymore. You don’t get to talk to me anymore, and you sure as hell don’t get to expect me to feel sorry for you.”

Sam had expected the sharp words from Santana, and after everything they’d been through the last year it wasn’t as if he blamed her for it. Whatever words she decided to throw his way were well deserved and all he could do was take it. After all, he could only apologize so many times and he it was clear his unrelenting ability to try to win her back had come up short. She had made her relationship with Mike public and flaunted it in his face. He took it as the ultimate sign to let things be, especially if this meant she could be happy again. At this point, he was willing to accept he could no longer do it himself and as much as he loved Santana, he loved her enough to know when to throw in the towel. 

“You’re the one who signed the papers” Sam said quietly with a defeated shrug. He wasn’t trying to guilt her into not signing them or convincing her to take it back, and while he understood that their breakup was entirely his fault, he wasn’t going to stand there and pretend that her heart was the only one that was broken. When she signed those papers, it was hard to take that as anything but defeat. She had made it real and he had to accept it whether he liked it or not.

“If you don’t want me to talk to you or text you or send you movie reviews then I won’t. I get it, I messed up and I can’t fix it but it’s hard, Santana. It’s like trying to keep going without your best friend and I’m trying to get used to it, I really am” Sam shrugged, he never seemed to have the right words and at this point attempting to not compare things to movies or comic books was a little difficult for him but he was managing. “But it’s okay, everything’s gonna be okay” he said, almost as if to convince himself. While Sam had always maintained a positive outlook on everything, this was one thing he had to force himself to actually be optimistic about and it showed. 

[aint-ashes]

Let’s talk about Eugene: Chapter 2

I’m back! If you were in agony waiting for this chapter, I apologize for taking so long. I hope this is worth the wait. Fair warning: it’s p long. Here goes nothing:

At the start of season 6, Eugene has cleared the air both with himself and with Abraham, having apologized for lying to him and thanking him for his help. Eugene’s character definitely has an air of new beginnings: season 6 is a clean slate. It’s also one of the most exciting development arcs that Eugene undergoes.

But before we delve into that, there’s an important question that needs to be addressed: what has Eugene lost?

In the last post, I broke down the moments that exposed Eugene’s lie to himself: that he is a coward. After saving (or making decisions with the intent to save) the entire run team from Alexandria, we saw Eugene undergo a critical change. We saw him leave the coward behind and become the survivor that was in him all along.

We know a bit of what he’s gained from seeing himself clearer, but he was telling this lie to himself for a reason. So, what did the coward act do for him?

For one, living in fear has kept him on his toes. It’s kept him painstakingly alert to his surroundings. It’s kept him alive. Although we don’t see Eugene until post-outbreak, I can only assume that he survived by hiding, running, and/or relying on more capable people. What I know is that he did not survive by fighting. Cowardice was his handgun, his crossbow, his sword.

Our own nature is one of the hardest things to change about ourselves. We often warn others about it: I’m grumpy in the mornings, I’m awful at keeping secrets, I’m bad at expressing my emotions, it’s just who I am. That explanation—or excuse—allows us to accept these imperfections in ourselves, and leaves it up to others to behave accordingly: don’t talk to her in the mornings, don’t trust him with secrets, don’t expect her to be sympathetic, that’s just who they are. If others don’t behave accordingly, well, however you behave toward them is their fault. You warned them. That’s how we tend to cope with these faults.

And this is exactly what the Coward did for Eugene. Considering himself a coward entitled him to act in cowardly ways. Ways that he wouldn’t naturally be okay with. It also made it easier to not be disappointed in himself when he resorted to such acts—he could always tell himself that’s just who he is.

But, there are times when we see a crack in this façade. Take 4x15, for example, when Eugene leads Rosita to the other side of the tunnel to save Glenn and Tara. When Rosita calls him a liar for leading her astray, Eugene says: “Nope. I never said otherwise.”

When she insists that their priority is getting Eugene to safety, he says: “after I save the world, I still have to live with myself.”

Not only do I appreciate the beautiful irony of this entire exchange, filled to the brim with both lies and truths, but I also recognize how much it tells us about Eugene—that no matter how he tries to defend himself, even he isn’t sold on this act being justified, neither the scientist act (the lie he told others), nor the coward act (the lie he told himself).

He knows that there are consequences to his lies, and that they directly affect others’ lives. And he knows that’s not okay, which is why he tries to minimize that impact. But he still allows a total of nine people to die in the vain belief that he could save lives if they were willing to risk theirs.

When Eugene admits to his lie in 5x5 (“Self Help”), it was at the culmination of these deaths and the close call of nearly killing five more of his friends in the church bus. It was in the heat of a moment that all his guilt, everything that he was carrying on his shoulders, finally burst forth. After a long internal struggle with the justification of this lie, Eugene could no longer accept that that’s just who he is.

Aside from the joke within the episode, I think the title “Self Help” says a lot about what’s going on with Eugene in that episode. The coward-and-scientist double-act was a form of self-help at the expense of others, obviously, but coming clean and facing himself for the first time was also self-help. By taking that first step toward giving up the coward, he took the first step toward becoming who he really is. Who he didn’t think he could be.

Up until “Spend”, Eugene valued in himself what he thought others would value in him—his knowledge. His ability to make things. He honed in on these skills in order to survive, just as we would cater our résumé to a specific job posting. But we see again and again that knowledge is not what Eugene admires in other people—it’s loyalty, it’s bravery, it’s sacrifice. And once he casts the coward aside, he is able to focus on these qualities in himself.

But I digress. Long story short: the Coward kept him alive. The Survivor allowed him to live with himself. Keep that in mind, because we’ll come back to this in season 7.

I want to talk about season 6 Eugene! I’m going to cover 6x1 to 6x7 in this chapter. It might be a bumpy ride, so please fasten your seatbelts and hold on to your mullets. It’ll be fun, I promise!

In 6x1, Eugene’s most important moment is seeing Tara awake and well. He rushes to her bedside, speechless, smiling. He’s not about to brag that he saved her, but he is seeing a direct consequence of his actions. He stepped up, he faced his fears, and this moment of walking through the door and seeing her awake (“holy shit,” he says) makes every second that he was afraid worth it.

Being brave paid off. He did it, and it mattered. Tara’s alive, Tara’s awake, Tara’s okay. And the fact that he was able to save her the same way that she’d saved him so many times must feel so, so good. We can see it plain and clear on his face.

And Eugene’s probably not thinking about it then, but the fact remains that those nine people died on the journey to keep him alive—and saving someone as good, loyal, and brave as Tara is the beginning of his post-apocalyptic life being worth something after that. He’s beginning to pay that debt back. He’s beginning to come into his own. Tara being alive is the sign he needed that he’s now on the right path. What a huge moment.

Aside from gracefully enduring a bit of humility (Denise’s comeback about whether or not he’s a doctor), 6x2 “JSS” is a pretty big episode for Eugene. He’s on screen for probably two minutes in total, but the lengths that his character travels in those two minutes is kind of amazing.

The Wolves begin their ambush on Alexandria while Eugene is in the infirmary with Tara and Denise. When the truck crashes and the Wolves invade, it isn’t long before Aaron. Eric, and Rosita rush Holly inside. She is horribly wounded. They drop Holly off on the operating table, and everyone able-bodied rushes outside to fight the Wolves. Even Tara, who isn’t able-bodied, wants to help. Eugene, who is, does not. When Denise tells Tara to stay and guard the infirmary, she does, reluctantly. Eugene insists:

“I also believe my services would be best rendered right very here.”

Okay. At this point, Eugene would be useless in a combat situation with other living people. His services are best equipped to the infirmary. But for the most part, this was a decision made in fear. You can see it in his face. I’m not convinced that if he had been anywhere else—in his own house, for example—that he would risk his life to get to the infirmary where he could best be of help to others.

Eugene will help because he can, but the offer isn’t selfless—he’s making a case to the others: I should stay inside. I should stay safe. Don’t make me risk my life with you. And, once again, his knowledge allows him to do that.

So he’s not ‘knight-in-shining-armor’ brave. Yet. Still, though the decision was fear-based, I don’t see it as cowardly, per say. Eugene doesn’t lock himself away. He doesn’t hide. He was allowed the grace of staying inside, and that’s as safe as he can get, so even with the threat imminent, he immerses himself in helping Denise to help Holly. And that’s it’s own kind of bravery. Remember, he’s in the transition between what he called stages one and two. He’s becoming a survivor. He’s not quite there yet.

Thank goodness that he was in the right place at the right time. Being in the infirmary allowed Eugene to be afraid, but still do something with the amount of courage he could muster up.

I’m afraid that if he had been hiding away alone somewhere, unable to do anything other than keep himself safe, it might set him back a few paces. Not only would he be more afraid, but possibly guilty. He might consider his bravery at the warehouse a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon. In his self-criticism, he might slip back into his defensive mindset: just as I thought, I am a coward.

But he didn’t. The stars were aligned to move him forward.

While helping Denise during the attack, Eugene has a really important moment of self-awareness.

In her fear of being unable to save Holly, Denise falters and hesitates. She argues with Tara in an attempt to justify inaction by saying that she isn’t a surgeon, regardless of the fact that she had planned to be one. Tara won’t have it. She says:

“You’re afraid? I don’t care! Help her! Try! Help her!”

Still, Denise hesitates. That is, until Eugene steps up and says, on the verge of tears:

“You don’t want to be a coward. I know.”

There is so much packed into these two sentences: If you don’t step up now, you’ll regret it. You’ll hate yourself. I know, because I did.

I mean, honestly, Eugene has probably done the math at this point. He probably knows Holly’s chances of survival down to the hundredth of a percent. He probably knows it’s hopeless. But sometimes miracles happen. Sometimes people are safely reunited in walker-filled tunnels. Sometimes a small group of people can single-handedly take down a cannibal empire, gagged and bound.

Sometimes the coward steps up and saves lives. Sometimes a coward turns out to be a brave man, against all odds. And there’s a life on the line, so every hundredth of a percent chance that Holly can be saved is worth it.

Tara is brave, and she’s not the one holding Holly’s life in her hands. She’s right to tell Denise to try, but at this flustered moment, she’s being pretty aggressive. Because there’s a life on the line, she has no room or time to be understanding of Denise’s reservations.  

But Eugene understands. When he faces Denise, his voice is soft, calm albeit shaky, and filled to the brim with empathy.

Tara’s the one who brought Eugene to his feet when the church bus broke down. Now, he sees someone like him in need of the same help. This is Eugene’s own “I know it sucks and it’s scary, but it’s time to be brave.” And it’s his words that put Denise into action. His understanding. His bravery to admit that he was wrong, and to save someone from making the same mistake.

Several aspects of this episode propel Eugene toward the moment in which we see him next (6x7, “Heads Up”): Witnessing the death of Holly. Seeing the bodies in the streets when all is over and done with. Encouraging Denise to be brave. Being unable to help outside, or to defend himself if it had come to that. And this self-realization that he doesn’t want to be a coward, and that he has control over that.

With all of this weighing on his shoulders, Eugene attends weapons training with Rosita. He wants to learn to fight. He wants to be able to defend himself. He wants to be able to defend others. So he makes the decision. He takes his transition from stage one to two into his own hands.

He’s still hesitant and unsure of himself, however, and Rosita (as usual) is having none of it. When she asks him what he’s afraid of, Eugene says: “that would be dying.” She answers:

“Dying is simple, it all just stops. You’re dead. The people around you dying, that’s the hard part. Okay? ‘Cause you keep living knowing that they’re gone and you’re still here. What you should be scared of is living knowing that you didn’t do everything you could to keep them here.”

This is really Eugene’s first taste of the negative consequences of being a survivor. All he’s ever wanted is to stay alive, but I don’t think the price of that has ever really occurred to him. He’s felt guilty about those nine lives that were lost in the attempt to keep him safe, but he considered that a loss on their part—not on his.

But more and more, Eugene is considering these people his family. He is putting their well being on an equal level with, if not above his own. This is his first introduction to what Beth essentially said to Daryl: “When you care about someone, hurt is kind of part of the package.”

He doesn’t have to cope with that hurt, yet, but Eugene will carry that with him all the way to and through season 7.

In the next chapter, I’m gonna talk about Eugene’s tough welcome to stage two in episodes 6x8 (“Start to Finish”) through 6x16 (“Last Day on Earth”). 

I don’t have final exams to worry about anymore, so hopefully there won’t be as much of a time lapse between chapters. Please come back for more! I love talking about Eugene, but I love it even more when others love it too. xxx

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

[benperorsolo]

Guide to Admitting you Love Her/Letters ofc

thanks, doll

let’s tackle the big one first (probably do Guide in a separate post):

Letters from an Apologist:

What inspired you to write the fic this way?

I started thinking about the basic scenario for Letters literally the second I stepped out of the theater after watching TFA. I started writing it on Christmas Eve 2015, so a little under a week after that. (What I’m saying is that Letters is my receipts that I’ve been a Ben Solo redemption ho since it was possible for me to be one.) I started the fic because I’d been fantasizing about Ben and Leia repairing their relationship after the war, and imagining various scenes between them. The formative one that actually got me to start writing was just a single image of Ben and Leia walking together in the forests of D’Qar, and I worked backwards from there to imagine how I could take Ben from Point A as he was in TFA to Point B, my forest vision, in a realistic way.

What scene did you first put down?

Like you, I write in order, so the first scene I wrote is the first scene in the fic— the one where Kylo is in his quarters on the Finalizer, and Han’s ghost is mercilessly haunting him a la Macbeth and Banquo.

What’s your favorite line of narration?

Probably from Chapter 16, after Ben makes the choice to be Ben again and the name is used for the first time in reference to him in the narration:

Ben —and this name is not painless either, but it is a different sort of pain, and Ben thinks the question might always have been not how to be free of it but how to choose the kind he could best live with, the kind he could not live without— freezes, breathing hard. 

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

Any between Ben and Leia is usually up there, but this exchange from Chapter 11:

“What should I say?” Kylo says. He wants to push her hands away, and ruin something. Someone’s belongings, someone’s life. “That if I’d never been born, you might have been happy?”

It’s as though he’s slapped her.

“You are my happiness,” she says, and her voice is choked. Her fingers splay against his collarbones; so near his heart. Not quite touching. Never quite there. “You’re my boy.”

A suffocating sound rumbles deep in his throat.

“I killed your husband,“ he tries to shout. His voice cracks into a whisper, a hiss. “I cannot be your happiness.”

Her face grows pale. “You did,” she says softly. “You took away the only man I’d ever loved. You did.”

He can feel her pulse points through her fingertips, slow in its sorrow, deep in its grief. It was always Leia who stayed behind. Leia, who did not run, who did not cower, but left the wellspring of her heartache in her innermost secret place, where she could visit its still waters and choose when to be consumed.

Such a quiet sufferer, she. Such a gift.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you for that,” she says quietly. It washes over Kylo like a balm. “I am…trying.”

“Don’t,” Kylo says. He swallows. “Don’t forgive me.”

Leia smiles weakly, cups his cheek in her free hand. He hasn’t been touched so often since he was a small boy. “My pup,” she says. “That isn’t how this galaxy works.”

What part was hardest to write?

Writing Ben’s POV in general. I don’t mean to say he’s a difficult character to write, per se, because I love writing Ben-POV, but in a fic of this nature there’s the issue that Ben is so deeply clung to his delusions that it’s difficult trying to get some point across in my writing if Ben himself would not admit to it. This was harder when Ben was still written as Kylo, because at least with Ben-as-Ben there’s a certain level of clearheadedness about his own motivations that comes with stripping away the entire artifice that the Kylo Ren persona is. But at the same time, whereas Ben-as-Kylo overestimates his righteousness, Ben-as-Ben underestimates it, and is just constantly beating himself up over everything, even things that weren’t his fault.

What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

It’s the longest fic (or any piece of writing) I’ve ever written, for one. 

Where did the title come from?

It’s a pun on the dual meaning of the word ‘apologist’. The first definition is of one who defends a faith, a cause, or an institution, especially when it is under attack or criticism. This first definition applies to Kylo as he is in the first part of the story, when he is still under the thrall of the First Order and the Dark Side and so acts as his own apologist for his evil deeds in the face of his family’s desperate attempts to sway him from his cause.

The second definition of ‘apologist’ is, of course, someone who apologizes. This is Ben in the second half of the story, after he’s renounced his cause and must begin the painstaking path of reconciliation with those he’s wronged, as well as his family and, ultimately, himself.

So, he goes from being an apologist to an apologist. 

Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

Not explicitly, but I’ve based large amounts of Ben’s mentality on my friends who have suffered from mental illness and abuse, as well as Ben’s family’s attempts at reaching him on my own interactions with those friends.

Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

Nope. It’s like the kitchen sink fic for all my general redemption headcanons.

Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?

No pairings. The reason why I went with no pairings is due to my absolute hatred of redemption arcs which have romantic love as their impetus. Rephrasing slightly– I think it’s too easy to write redemption arcs wrong when they involve romantic love. The impetus of a true redemption must always be the person in need of redemption themselves. Other people can and indeed should help them, but at the end of the day it must be an internal decision. Romantic love makes it too easy for x character to ‘reform’ just because they like the warm fuzzy feeling y character gives them, or, even worse, solely because character y told them to, making character y their sole reason for goodness. It’s really gross, and I hate it, and if you’re going to look at stories which did romantic redemptive love right (say Pride and Prejudice and Beauty and the Beast) the love ultimately displayed is not romantic love but agape love– selfless love in which they expect nothing in return. And that makes all the difference.

What do you like best about this fic?

I’m really pleased with the overwhelming positive response I’ve gotten to this fic. It’s the first multichapter fic I’ve ever written. I’ve gotten so many incredible comments from readers who identify with Ben and his struggles with guilt, mental illness, and family dysfunction– and I’ve in general been glad to have represented these things in such a way that those who have struggled with those issues have been able to use my fic as some small form of solace and catharsis. And then of course there are the general readers who are pleased with my handling of Ben and an attempts at a realistic redemption arc. Since that was what I set out to do, that’s the greatest compliment. 

What do you like least about this fic?

As with all of my writing, I know I get a little (a lot) purple prosey sometimes. I semiregularly go through published chapters on ao3 and try to weed out whatever bullshit I thought was a good idea when the chapter was first published. There’s also the fact that Letters is more or less an unplanned fic, so I feel like some chapters are more extraneous than others and could have been cut– yet there’s just enough character development in them that I feel unable to just take them out altogether. This is the part I regret about fanfiction being largely a post-as-you-write process instead of being able to finish it and edit it as a whole.

What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

As of now, my apologist playlist on Spotify has 78 songs. I plan to actually put the playlist up on playmoss after Letters is done. Anything by Radical Face, The Oh Hellos, Mumford & Sons, or Bastille tends to get me in the mood. Regretful banjos, yo.

When actually writing, I love listening to the soundtrack of The Village (yes, that M Knight Shyamalan movie). The Gravel Road and the appropriately titled Will You Help Me? are some of the best from that soundtrack. Anything with aggressive violin and sorrowful piano is so Ben to me.

Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

There is no such thing as having gone too far. Becoming a person again is hard, but other people want to help you. Let them. There is courage in kindness. There is bravery in compassion.

What did you learn from writing this fic?

A lot. As I jokingly said to a friend today, I love Star Wars because it basically allows me to grapple with Christianity IN SPAAACE. I’m endlessly fascinated by the concepts of sin, grace, and redemption, and the practical implications of believing in them. They’re the cornerstone of the Christian faith, after all. I’ve read a lot of books that handle these themes due to my desire to wrestle with them in Letters: Mere Christianity, A Grief Observed, Silence, The Power of Myth, etc etc.