tim and bernard who break up and it's nothing big, no one cheated or anything. it's just their lifestyles didn't work out well together. tim cannot give up vigilantism currently and bear cannot handle the level of danger tim puts himself in. and on the other hand, tim cannot handle the fact that bear chooses to run into danger as an emt bc he already worries about everything but now he has to worry if he'll find his boyfriend convulsing from fear gas in a random alley but also bear who felt the life drain out of darla cannot stand the thought of not helping people and runs headfirst into dangerous situation after dangerous situation hoping that every person he saves can somehow make up for the fact that he could not save darla.
(he very pointedly does not think about the fact that there was nothing he could do because if he thinks about that, he'll spiral until they have to lock him in arkham too)
and so they break up but they were tim & bernard in high school and when they started dating they balanced out the worst of each other and they became tim&bernard. and everyone who knows them, knows that they're better together but they cant be together, they refuse actually because they cannot lose another person to the violence of gotham and by the time they figure out that they cant work together as long as the other is an emt or vigilante, it's too late for both them. they've already left too many pieces of themselves in each other.
tim still knows what bear means when he says "tim" in that exasperated voice. tim still goes boneless when he hears bear say "baby" in that firm tone. bear can still read tim like a book. he still knows the right way to massage tim's neck so that tim can go to sleep. everyone at the first responders gala knows not to bother ceo drake-wayne and senior emt dowd when they're talking.
(and if they're standing a little too close to each other than what is normal, who are they to judge? everyone knows that dowd and drake-wayne have history)
and if everyone on the night shift has caught red robin with his head tucked into the crook of emt dowd's neck as emt dowd runs a soothing hand up and down the vigilante's back, well then, they just quietly back away.
(after all, dowd's one of like, five, emts that can get the bats to receive medical treatment so if turning a blind eye to whatever the fuck they have going on is what allows them to give back to their heroes, then the night shift will do it every time)
and of course, tim and bear are practical people. they loved (love) each other sure, but when your lives are fundamentally incompatible, well, you cant get too stuck on the what-ifs, that's for sure. and so they do find love with other people and yeah, maybe it's not what they expected love to be when they first fell in love with each other. it's not the bubbly, stomach-swoopy, cant stop grinning, feeling that permeated tim&bernard's early days or the i Know you/you Know me that was their middle or the quiet despair that was their end but it is contentment. and in a life with as many losses as theirs, contentment is something they hold dearly
and they're happy! truly! but sometimes, at galas when they're making each other snort champagne out their noses or in darkened alleyways when their clothes are both stained with blood or at rallies for stricter gun regulations in gotham where they both sit too close to each other, fingers enclosed around each other in a death grip, when the presenters inevitably bring up grieves
(worst school shooting in gotham in decades, there's blood on their hands and blood in their mouths and darla is dead in between both of them and there is a chasm so wide that they are screaming to get their voices across and she will always be dead and maybe this had always been the problem that she is dead and there is no coming back from that and that there is blood on their hands and blood in their mouth and blood on their han-)
but sometimes, most especially on opposite sides of the street, as life pulls them in different directions, just sometimes, they see each other and just for a second, nothing too long, the flap of a hummingbird's wings, the time it takes to blink, an electron's orbital, they look at each other and for the briefest moment, blue on brown, a barely noticeable stutter in their steps, the space between heartbeats, because this is all they will give themselves because they do not dwell on what-ifs or what-could-have-beens, or what-should-have-beens, or delusions of a softer world, their eyes meet and they think to themselves, god, in another life, i would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with him.
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✦ OC Questionnaire Tag 3 ✦
Thanks for the tag, @illarian-rambling!
Characters from Sun and Shadow: Freya, Crow, and Valyarus
Characters from the Arcane Rifts: Gene, Tazin, and Mislav
Featuring tAR's children at ages 15, 17, and 17! (Aka mid book 2.)
Questions:
- Do you have a tell when you're lying?
- What other media genre would you do the worst in?
- Are you confident in yourself? from @the-letterbox-archives
Do you have a tell when you're lying?
Freya: Um... not that I know of? I'm not really in the habit of lying? (*remembers that she does, in fact, lie a lot... but mostly through omission of the truth!*) Haha... yeah!
... ugh, okay, um. If I had to guess... (*shifts uncomfortably in place*) it would probably be that I struggle in what to say? Though I kinda do that anyway? Ugh, I don't really know.
(A/N: the easiest sign to tell that she's "lying" is that she avoids the subject completely. She'll change the subject or "get distracted". She also fidgets more, but that's something she does a lot anyways because she's awkward.)
Crow: Of course not! I don't lie anyway, so how would I find out? 😉🥰
(psst... Crow...) What? (You're supposed to basically be under truth serum for these Questionnaire posts...) Okay. And? 😘
(So you're telling me that you, a detective, have never told a lie once?)
...
(See the issue there?)
Nope! 😄
(A/N: WHELP! Uncooperative Crow understandably won't tell you, so I will. They're a very good liar, so it's hard to tell when they do. The best indicator is that they'll stumble slightly in their speech when almost saying something "they shouldn't" or they'll hesitate while trying to come up with a lie. The falters are always subtle though.)
Valyarus: (*snorts*) I would think not. Besides, I'm not in the habit of lying. There's too much magic that can force you into Truth-telling to be able to rely on it--no, best is operating in half-truths and implication.
The best method of deception is allowing the one you wish to deceive to come up with the answers for themself. For example... (*slowly smirks, quirking an eyebrow*) I never said I don't lie just now... did I?
(A/N: ahhh, our beloved douchebag faerie living up to his species's reputation. In other words: he's a fantastic "liar".)
Gene: I... don't know. I'd... like to think not. Maybe... maybe that I...
(*takes a slow, deep breath, collecting himself*)
... I probably act more confident when I lie. I... I'm not confident. And probably don't... stutter as much. Or hesitate...
So, speaking patterns? They--they change, I mean. My speaking patterns. When I lie.
Tazin: (*snarls*) I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about, you got me? I--I--
(*struggling to lie because of the whole "these questions are answered under basically-truth serum" thing*)
FINE! I don't fucking lie because I can't, okay? I avoid the subject! Or I just--I don't know, I just fucking lie??? How am I supposed to fucking know if I have a "tell"??? Don't you think I'd fucking fix it if I knew???
(A/N: he gets avoidant of the subject and/or highly aggressive to dissuade the asker from continuing at the moment... or generally asking again.)
Mislav: Um... this is a weird question?... I guess I don't really--(*remembers he lies literally all the time*)--lie...
(*lets out a slow, pained sigh, running his hands back through his hair in frustration*) I don't know? I just--try my best to bullshit it? Try to make people feel better, or avoid giving them the information they want? I don't know???
(A/N: best indication is that he answers too quickly. He usually practices/rehearses his lies before it comes time to actually tell them. Otherwise (if he didn't expect to have to lie/doesn't have one prepared), he freezes up, stutters, and smiles/jokes too much as he tries "appeasing" or distracting the questioner.)
What other media genre would you do the worst in?
(we're going to be implanting Forbidden Knowledge of our Real World genres and whatnot for them to be able to best answer this!)
Freya: The horror genre. (*shudders*) I cannot deal with scary stuff, okay? I think I would be the first to die. I'd scream, or cry, and break down--probably try hitting the monster or whatever over the head with a chair when it turns the corner and, well... that never goes well in those sorts of things, does it?
Crow: Fairy tales. I'd either be the "lesson"--"don't do this or look what happens to you! You'll become Crow!"--or I'd be whatever the horrifying monster or villain is. I mean... (*laughs awkwardly, looking away and rubbing their shoulder feathers*) when you're me... you get used to knowing you're what's wrong with the world.
(*beat. They realize what they've just said--*)
I mean, romance. I'd probably annoy my love interest to death. 😎
Valyarus: (*fake gags, then with disgust:*) Romance. My only "biological" child was through magic, and I would not step foot near anyone with that sort of intention. I don't understand how others do. Much less why my daughter is so interested in Freya. They just met!
(note: he's aroace and is equally disgusted with romance and sex. Also, yes, I know that's not how all aroace people are. I have plenty of other characters everywhere else in the spectrum. This is just where Valyarus is.)
Gene: Um... probably romance. I...'m not interested in it... not really. Be-besides with Mislav, I mean... and I... I don't even know why he likes me? 😅😓
... people think I'm creepy. They don't say it--not to my face--but I know they think it. And I... I struggle to talk with people a lot. I try to say one thing, but they think I mean another?... I don't understand why. It's hard. And I--... I don't think I'd do well in that kind of story.
Tazin: The kinda thing where I'd have to teach. I don't have that kind of fucking patience, are you fucking kidding me? I think I'd explode on them. Maybe even literally. (*He pauses, considering it... and grins darkly*)
Actually, wait--I take it back. I want to try.
(I want to tag in and say traditional horror/thriller. I think the degree to which he'd freak out or curse out the monster would be comical and/or break the immersion, haha.)
Mislav: I would not be able to participate in a talk show or be in the news. A talk show? (*scoff*) Regardless of the subject, it wouldn't take long for me to be driven mad by their endless talking and pretending they know everything. The news? Even worse. I think I'd snap their mic in half. And only because I'd be struggling not to snap other things. <.<
(read: necks, limbs, etc.)
Are you confident in yourself?
Freya: Ha... no, not really. I act like I am, but... y'know, it's just that--an act.
Crow: What's not to be confident about? I'm the greatest, I've never made a mistake in my life, and every decision I make is the best one I possibly can! 😘
Valyarus: (*poised on a grand chair; sipping tea elegantly with one hand while the other hangs over the side of the armrest. A nail file magically hangs in the air and is filing his nails while he sips tea*)
Hm? What did you say? Oh. (*chuckles*) Of course I'm confident in myself. My abilities, my character, my decisions--everything. 😉💅
Gene: Depends what you mean by "myself"...
(*goes quiet, looks away, and debates*) ... I... I try my best to make the right decisions. The best ones... that I possibly can. I--as hard as it is to not question them, it's--it's not good to worry about past decisions. I do my best, and that's--that's all I can do. So... (*takes a deep breath, collecting his thoughts*)
I'm not confident, but I try to be.
Tazin: (*snarls*) Of course I'm confident. I've gotten this far, haven't I? (*and slowly starting to smirk instead--*) I mean, look at me. (*leans back and gestures at himself with both hands*) I used to live on the streets with Gene. Now I have a girlfriend. People used to be terrified at my name--and they still would be if I didn't have to stop with the whole "Svarog" thing. (*oops, snarls again and leans in close; threateningly*)
Look, I don't care what anyone else says, but Gene wasn't the only reason we were successful! He wouldn't have gotten anywhere without my strength, got it!?!?
(Is actually less confident than he thinks he is--overcompensates for that by having convinced himself that he's the greatest. Hm... wonder if that fits the diagnosis criteria for anything?)
Mislav: Ha... not at all. (*swallows and looks down at his hands, fighting back tears*) I... one of these days, this curse is going to take over me. Will I even know when it does? Or will it be slow enough that I never even recognize that I've changed? I... (*looks back up at asker*) I worry, one of these days, I'll only know it when I've done something I can't come back from...
Your questions:
- Same as the ones I answered!
Tagging (with no pressure) @yourpenpaldee @honeybewrites @fantasy-things-and-such @wyked-ao3 @the-golden-comet
@paeliae-occasionally @ath3alin @mysticstarlightduck @the-letterbox-archives + open tags!
Divider from @cafekitsune
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how did u choose your username?
oh, this is a fun one!! i think i considered being swordtold at first, for that very ancient myth vibe of the sword being this narrative tool for adventure and structure and physical time, the parable being passed down through the centuries until it meddles into modern day rhetoric and ideology – a kind of fantastical tool, a spark of magic, of possibility.
i like the arc of the story of a place being physical / having it be held by time and hand alike, wearing with the years and having it become something different to each holder, each reader, each experience fantastical and individual.
having that kind of physicality to it; swordheld is the action of taking up and holding the sword yourself, choosing your own narrative, leading your own story. self-identity has always been something i struggle with (a novel concept i know, i know), so it felt right for this blog, since most of my older blogs before this one have been just me silently reblogging and never really posting anything myself, and i wanted this to be the change to that.
i've always had trouble wranging my social anxiety, esp. on the internet, and previously thought that keeping my words to myself helped keep the timeline cleaner, in a way, no messy thoughts for others to sort through, especially ones i believed no one would want to read anyway? but it never felt right, keeping myself apart from it all, esp. not in the way i so avidly enjoyed reading others' posts and additions, keeping their words close to my heart.
i wanted it to reflect that this was a space i was holding for myself? and i'm a little slow on the uptake sometimes, but this - this i think i got right. i love being here, on this blog, and the joy that it brings me. everyone else enjoying it too has been a wild ride that i never expected, and still surprises me, one that brings a little extra thrill to my heart whenever i think about it.
i had other urls that i liked, but i didn't want this blog to be tied directly to any of my fandom/story interests, since i wanted it to really just be a sort of archive of artistic inspiration and resource, like a little library or museum. i use them now as lil sideblogs of more niche interests now, which is rather lovely.
it hasn't always felt like it fit perfectly, the way that i'd like, but for some reason i can't think of really wanting to change it anytime soon. it feels mythic yet modern in a way that feels like puzzle pieces finally slotting into their place, something my own and inspirational to me, like a lantern i'm holding to make my way by. my own kind of light, if that makes sense – a star i know by name.
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I think the break up idea would make a good ao3 content
Always love your work btw ~
Thena's head tipped to the side as she laughed, her hands clasped around her cup of decaf latte. Just like she always had. God, she really looked the same, and sounded the same, and felt the same.
Gil stared, blatantly enchanted by the woman across from him. He had moved swiftly from not wanting her to know how pathetically he had spent the last year and a half to telling her about his one miserable attempt at a relationship. "Yeah, I didn't even realise what made her storm out like that until the guys told me."
Thena gave him a chastising look over the rim of her cup. "Gilgamesh."
"I know, I know, it's bad," he admitted while also smiling into his own cup of coffee. He shouldn't make light of having called the last girl he was with the wrong name. But he couldn't help but be glad it was good for something (making Thena laugh).
"If it were me, I would have done the same," Thena offered in his poor ex's defense.
Not that he would have really called her his girlfriend, all things considered. Maybe if that was the only name for it, but he had made it clear at the time that he wasn't looking for anything that serious. Not after Thena.
"I don't blame her," he shrugged, still too preoccupied with the woman in front of him. It was as if he were in a dream and she might vanish at any moment.
"Did you ever apologise to her?"
"'Course," he huffed. He leaned forward on the table, sitting his cheek against his fist. "I have some decency, y'know."
"I know." The quick and familiar rhythm of their conversation stumbled. It had done so a few times, now. For the most part, they felt like themselves three years ago. Things flowed easily between them. But this was the third time now that Thena had said something a bit more pronounced, or more softly, or wistfully.
He looked at her, although as soon as he did her eyes darted down to stare into her mug again. He could feel them circling something. He faked taking another sip; his mug was smaller than hers and he was already done, but he didn't want another cup, and he didn't want to leave, either.
Thena put her mug down, freeing one of her hands to tuck some hair behind her ear. She was still feeling a little restless. "And how has work been?"
It was a very mundane question after the last. But that was okay, she could ask him all the boring shit she wanted. "Restaurant's good--I finally found some good guys for the kitchen so I can take off earlier or take a day off here and there."
Thena merely nodded, appearing to be out of commentary. Her eyes darted down to her mug.
"You out?" he asked directly. It wasn't the most charming way to ask, but he was curious. She nodded, her lips pinching sheepishly. He smiled, "want more?"
She hook her head.
"Yeah, I guess I'm all coffee-d out," he sighed, standing from the little stool. The tall, metal stools always did feel somewhat uncomfortable the longer spent on their square forms. Thena showed no signs of butt fatigue as she also stood. He held his hand out, "bus or uber?"
She tilted her head, but took his offered hand, "taxi."
He grinned; she was still like an old lady with technology. She knew what an uber was but she had probably never ordered one in her life. His hand closed around hers, "there's a spot where they all park that's just around the corner. Probably quicker than calling one."
Thena followed him silently, but he was fine with her silence. It was another thing that felt terribly, painfully familiar to him as he walked out with her hand in hand.
"What about the museum?" he asked in a bit of a rush, reminding himself to ask about her work and her interests.
She smiled as they took slow, tiny steps in the snow. "Quite the same, I believe. Kingo is attempting to convince upper management that he should be in charge of the social media accounts."
"He'd probably do pretty well at that, actually," Gil muttered mostly to himself. He had always liked her friend from work, Kingo. Well, once he had learned that he wasn't interested in Thena, of course.
He snuck his eyes over to her. He caught her doing the same before she rushed them away again, her other hand reaching for her scarf.
There was even less street noise than before they had gone into the little cafe, most of the city asleep and avoiding the snow. Those who were out were probably a few blocks away in the pubs, like his friends whom he had abandoned. He looked over his shoulder.
"Ah, shit."
Thena blinked, still following him silently but now as he dragged her to the corner and around it. "Gil?"
"The guys," he grumbled as he pulled her around the corner of the building, just out of the streetlight enough that they might not recognise him with his back turned. "I, uh, kinda left them in the bar back there."
"Gilgamesh," she chided him again, but she was obviously amused by it.
In fact, he could hear them as they got closer. Were they always so loud and obnoxious? Maybe he just noticed it less when he was getting drunk, too. But he had to admit, that was appealing to him less and less these days. He had chalked it up to getting older.
But looking at Thena, that wasn't it. It wasn't that he just didn't like going out with the guys anymore, it was just that he would rather just be at home, enjoying a quiet night instead. He wanted to be horizontal on the couch, the tv playing whatever. He wanted to have his back against the back of the couch, and what he really wanted was a smaller, lighter frame to be lying in front of him, his arm draped over her because it made him feel big and strong and protective. And she would doze off because she found what he liked on tv uninteresting. But they would lie around together like that for hours.
"Gil?"
He shuffled them closer to the wall as the voices got closer and closer. Even if they did manage to overlook his huge frame, even from the back, they would most certainly recognise Thena. It was impossible not to.
Thena let him guide her closer to him as he raised his arm up against the snowy building's facade. To a passerby, he would probably just look like he was leaning, maybe they would think he was putting the moves on someone, if they could see her past him at all.
He all but held his breath as his drunk asshole friends yapped their way down the sidewalk and past them completely. He knew those idiots wouldn't notice him. He was surprised they had even gathered that he left. He looked down at Thena, tucked against his chest, "sorry-"
She tilted her head up, catching his lips with her own. But it wasn't that accidental. She was definitely kissing him. His hand moved to her cheek completely on its own, like damn sense memory or something. But it made her kiss him again, so maybe it wasn't that bad.
They pulled apart slowly. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted it as if he had been starving the past two years of his life and was finally given some good fucking food again.
Thena's cheeks took on a shade of rouge that stood out against the snow and her general pallor. She slid back half a step. "S-Sorry, I-I shouldn't--it's-"
He caught her hands again before she could slither away in embarrassment. Her eyes avoided his again but he was happy to stare at her blatantly, reciprocated or not. "Don't be sorry."
He pulled her in again, kissing her more properly. It really was like sense memory, but it was better than any memory he had been mulling over for the past however long. Their lips fit together naturally, Thena melted into him like she was the better atop a thick stack of fluffy pancakes. His arm wrapped around her, holding the smallness of her waist, even in her heavy white coat.
They parted again. He moaned quietly and she let out more of a gentle purr. Her hand had slipped up the front of his coat and halfway inside his lapel, although she snapped it back to herself. He blinked, feeling more dazed after that kiss than any number of shots the guys would have told him to get. "See?"
Thena's eyes drifted down again, still blushing, much to his delight. "I didn't plan this with this in mind."
No, she wouldn't have planned to kiss him outside, under the cover of shadow, snow falling on their heads. But that was okay. He dusted some snow out of her hair again. "I know."
She stepped back from him more properly, in a physical declaration that no more kissing would be taking place. She gripped the ends of her scarf. "I should get home."
"Okay," he smiled, although he had to admit that his first instinct was to ask her to stay. He just wanted another hour, just five more minutes. Just one more kiss before she left again.
She took his hand again, letting him lead her to her ride home. Her hand flinched in his before giving it a quiet squeeze. "Next week is a long weekend."
His eyes sparked. She wouldn't bring it up just to make conversation. But he was curious if she would ask him for herself or if she would end up making him ask her out. To be honest, he was okay if that was what she wanted. He had plenty of experience in it. "Oh, yeah."
Her hand was still holding onto her scarf for dear life. But she braved on, "the museum will be closed on the monday. If I recall, so will the restaurant."
She still knew the restaurant hours. His heart leapt in his chest, "yeah."
Finally without any cover left, she managed to squeak out, "if you like, we could-"
"Love to," he blurted out, even stepping on the end of her question. Maybe it was overeager. Maybe it was even more pathetic than admitting he hadn't even come close to moving on from her. But he didn't care.
Her eyes darted up to his one last time before shyness took over and she looked away again. "Hm."
That was her way of sealing the deal, and the nostalgia of her quiet 'hm's and 'indeed's warmed the tips of his fingers. "It's a date."
The glow of the taxi numbers came into view. He had to let her go again. But Thena gave him one last - beautiful - smile. "Then I'll see you monday."
She left his side to cross the street, one of them having already started up their engine at the sight of her. He watched her, from being the only person in sight to getting in. She gave him one last wave before her carriage took off for her side of town.
Neither had asked if their numbers were the same. Maybe that meant that she hadn't wanted to change hers either. He wondered what the background of her phone was now (it had also been of their trip to Australia, once upon a time).
He also tried not to obsess over the kiss. It didn't mean this was anything more serious. They were just two old friends catching up, he told himself. Although his fingers were tingling, eager to hold her like that again.
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