#mcd mentioned

[formulapookie]

💛💛

Under the cut to read on Tumblr, here to read on Ao3 ch1; ch2; ch3; ch4; ch5

Les fleurs du mal ch.6 rosquez, 1.9k words

He listens to Marc’s voice note before doing anything else, he needs to hear his voice, the thrill it has.

Only the voice coming through his speaker seems the furthest from Marc’s he ever heard.

It’s drained, dry, lifeless.

“Vale. It’s me. I - please Vale it hurts so much, I can’t breathe I need you to come here quick I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry for what I did, all of it, I’m sorry I didn’t want you to lose, I didn’t want to do anything against you. I never - I never went to him, I would never cheat on you, I only ever had you please believe me Vale. Vale I love you. I’m home and, and it hurts so much. Please, I need to see you. Please. I need to feel your hugs again. I’m cold Vale so cold”

He listens to it only once, and can't bring himself to hear the broken desperation coming from the boy’s tone more than that.

He tries to call back, but there’s no response. Twice, thrice, but no one is there to answer his shameless calls.

He remembers about the message from Lorenzo when he’s already in his car, the navigator leading him to Cervera, to Marc.

He wants this to be a surprise, something to cheer for.

When he picks up the phone at a red light and reads the text from his teammate it’s like the world stops spinning.

Lorenzo: I got a call from Alex Marquez. I don’t think the kid wanted me to tell you but I honestly don’t give a fuck.  You deserve to know how much of a scum you are. Marc is dead. His own mother found him this morning dead in his room, surrounded by stupid yellow petals. You killed him, Valentino.

Vale somehow has enough blood and oxygen in his brain to drive back home the short distance he drove and climb down from the car.

He gets back inside, his house a huge contrast with Marc’s neat and tidy one he remembers.

There’s a moment, one long interminable moment where he doesn’t believe what he read.

Because Marc can’t be dead.

It’s impossible.

Marc is - he’s terrified of death they talked about it - he has to be alive.

Then it strikes him, the terrible image it must have been, when his mother walked in his room and found him - God he can’t think of associating the words “Marc” and “dead”.

The petals, the lifeless corpse of the boy who brought such warmth in his life, laying cold in his room.

Marc sounded so lonely in the voice note he sent, he was asking for forgiveness, a forgiveness Vale had to be asking for, he was asking for him to be there with him, even after how he treated him, after what he said to him, calling Marc - no he can’t think about it, of what he did.

That night, in Sepang, when Marc had begged him for a reconciliation and he had used him.

Like he was nothing more than a momentary fling, a one night stand he could brush off as just that.

That had been their last prolonged interaction. He used that kid, for what? A fucking blowjob.

Marc had - he died thinking Vale despised him, thinking Vale viewed him as nothing more than a body.

And Vale wants to go back in time, stop himself from ever saying that shit to the press, even wants to go back and stop himself from thinking Marc came to his Ranch just to humiliate him.

He wants to save Marc.

But death can’t be reversed, there is nothing in this world or in another that can get Marc back to life, back to him.

And he’s angry, so angry with the world for taking the life of the little sun Marc was.

was 

it doesn’t sound right, to be talking about Marc with past tense, a kid cannot go through such a horrible thing.

But the fault is not the world’s. It’s his.  He believed others over Marc, and that killed him.

He thinks about what it must’ve been for Alex, to hold in his hands an unresponsive Marc, trying to wake him from an eternal sleep.

Tries to think about how he would’ve reacted, if he ever got there. What could he have said?

A blind rage directed towards himself eats him whole, and Vale, the everlasting control freak, loses himself completely.

He’s taking things and throwing them to the ground, against the walls, he doesn’t even know what hits what anymore.

There’s a cut on his palm, probably coming from the shattered bottle laying on the ground next to his feet, another smaller cut on his leg.

There’s plates and glasses and tons of papers scattered all over the floor, a horrible smell of iron and spilled wine in the air.

“I’m sorry Marc I’m sorry. I left you alone. I'm sorry, please forgive me. I was so wrong about you, I can’t even tell you how much I am sorry”

He’s sitting in the middle on his kitchen floor, surrounded by shattered pieces of his home and nothingness.

There is nothing in his heart right now beside infinite hollowness and pain.

“Marc please come back”

When Luca goes to pay him a visit, the day after, he finds the house in such a state he thinks Vale’s been robbed.

Everything is as messy as Vale made it when he got into his rage explosion, the sour smell hunting every surface of the house.

Luca looks for his brother, worried out of his mind.

He finds him sitting on the floor of his bedroom, asleep, a few empty bottles of whatever next to him and a disgusting smell of alcohol surrounding the man.

He must’ve gotten the news about Marc. It’s on every fucking News site right now.

Luca is not dumb, he knows Vale and Marc had something. Knows Vale must’ve done something bad.

He tries to wake him, it takes him almost an hour, and the miserable man looking back in his eyes once he manages his task is not his brother.

It’s a shell, an empty body with his brother’s face.

There’s no soul in his eyes, no life in his words.

The only thing Vale says before running to the bathroom and throwing up is “sorry”.

Sorry for what, not even Vale knows.

But he finds himself being sorry for many things now.

Luca tries to convince him to go to the hospital for that cut on his palm, it stopped bleeding but it’s obviously dirty and filled with little splinters of plates and glass.

He doesn’t listen because of course he doesn’t.

“I - I need to go” “Vale you can’t go anywhere like this” “I don’t care, I have to go” “Go where? Vale fuck sake you can’t even walk” “Need to go”

Luca tries to get an answer out of his brother, but he’s even less readable than usual.

He can’t stop him from getting into a Taxi and watching him go to the mysterious destination he didn’t have the courage to tell.

“Where to, Mr Rossi?” Because of fucking course the taxi driver knows him.

“The Airport” “Have you got the news?” “Wha-“ oh. The news. “Yes” “Poor kid, don’t get me wrong I’m a fan of yours but hell, 22 years old and dying from cancer it’s horrible”

So this is the officially given cause of death. Cancer.

It’s not far from the truth, not too much. Vale does feel like a cancer right now. He attacked Marc’s mind instead of his body, but his body took the hit.

The disease had grown because of his words and his actions, it had corrupted every cell of Marc’s body.

“Yeah it’s. It’s terrible” “Lung cancer they said” “Terrible”

He can’t say anything else, not to this stranger anyway.

When they arrive at the airport his private jet is waiting there for him. He pays the driver, and doesn't even know how much. As he climbs the jet the captain asks for the destination.

There’s five seconds where Vale thinks about not doing this, but the guilt drives him forward.

“Barcelona. I’m going to Barcelona”

It’s the closest city to Cervera that’s got an airport. And he needs to go there. He needs to be close to him.

Convincing Alex not to take a plane to Italy to go and kill Valentino might have been the hardest task Roser and Julia ever had to go through.

Of course they are angry at the man as well, they are furious, disgusted, but what could they do?

Seeing him, insulting him, that wouldn’t bring Marc back.

Nothing will.  Not praying, not hoping, not believing.

Revenge isn’t even something they could muster in their head.

Because whatever they may do, it wouldn’t change the fact Marc is not there anymore.

None of them will ever hear the sweet sound of his voice or his contagious laugh spreading in the house, his presence won’t be a normality ever again.

Alex accused himself of not paying enough attention, accused himself of not realizing what was happening and not talking to Marc about it.

And Roser has to remind him to be kind to himself, just like his brother would be, because not even Alex could’ve made Marc change idea on what he had to do.

“Marc I don’t like this you’re doing”

Marc wasn’t listening, was busy staring at his phone with a dumb smile on his face.

“Oi! Don’t ignore me!” he threw a pillow at his brother, hitting him. “Alex, stop, come on! I’m talking with Vale let me be” “That’s exactly what I need to talk to you about” “Ugh ok talk”

Alex had taken a deep breath, gathered all the words he built the past week to tell him what he thought.

“This thing you’ve got with him, it needs to stop. It’s not healthy like at all! You’re 20 and he’s what? 40? That’s basically illegal! And plus he’s never had a stable relationship, what makes you think he doesn’t want just to fuck?”

“Ok so first thing he’s not 40 he’s 34, and it’s healthy. And secondly what? You think someone can’t love me for me? That people only want me for my body? Wow Alex thanks I thought I could trust you”

“34,40 same shit, he’s too old for you Marc! And no obviously I don’t think that you’re only wanted for your body but he - I don’t trust him”

“I told you already Alex, once you’ll fall in love you’ll understand, me and Vale are in love, you just can’t see it cause you’re jealous”

“You know what? Fuck you I was trying to help”

“Well there’s no need to help, ok? We’re fine”

They bickered for half an hour, then they hadn’t talked for a whole day, both much too angry to keep on the conversation.

Right now, looking at the list of things to do for the funeral Alex wishes he had insisted more, that time.

That he had actually driven Marc away from Vale, even if he would’ve hated him, at least he’d be alive now.

He would be laughing alongside him, racing and waiting for Alex to reach him in MotoGP.

He wouldn’t be laying in a casket waiting to be buried, his skin wouldn’t be so pale, his heart would still be beating.

[stellewriites]

very much inspired by a post i’ll link at the bottom to avoid spoilers

i love putting john price in situations

simon had known price for over a decade, had served under him as his lieutenant for a good portion of it, so he was pretty confident in answering yes when asked if he thought he knew the captain well.

he could acknowledge he wasn’t as close as say laswell may have been, but he knew that price’s wife was not common knowledge around the base either.

he’d pieced it together over the years on missions; catching the odd comment shared over coms; the glint of a ring around his neck; the odd teased mention of her when they sat in the rec room after barely scraping through a tough spot, when price needed the company as well as the silence ghost offered before returning to the real world.

it was how simon knew the sergeants were staying when price let slip about her one day. because he doesn’t let anything slip, wouldn’t, especially about her.

“got anyone at home waiting for you, sir?” gaz asked as he sighed impatiently over the coms, hour three of silently waiting and watching had finally gotten to him.

“i do,” price said simply, not offering any further information. ghost could imagine the amusement tugging at his daft facial hair as price refused to continue without prompting and simon smiled under his mask when he heard johnny scoff next to him before chiming in.

“c’mon sir, give us a wee bit more’n that,” he weedled. “when’d ya meet? is she nice?”

john hummed, the sound low and crackly over the radio in their ears. “met when i moved.”

“oh, a real meet-cute type thing, eh?” gaz teased.

john ignored him. “wouldn’t say she’s nice, soap. she’s more than that. ‘nice’ is your aunt’s new wallpaper; you have permission to shoot me point blank if i start calling her nice.”

“what is she then?” ghost piped up. this was the chattiest john had ever been on the subject and he was going to take advantage.

john went silent for long enough that the three men thought that was it, the end to their sharing session and knowing more about their captain outside of work. simon chewed the inside of his cheek.

“she’s devoted,” john whispered finally before his voice firmed. “heads up, team, movement 2 o’clock. anyone got eyes on the target?”

—

it was months later when she was brought up again, the team thinking. nothing of it until price’s phone pinged in his pocket enough times to pique johnny’s interest as they prepped to leave.

“that the wife, sir?” he asked.

john huffed, didn’t bother checking his phone as he turned and shook his head. “she’s clingy, but she doesn’t bother me when i’m at work.”

“how’d you know?” gaz asked. “could be an emergency.”

“‘n’ how’d you get her to agree tae tha’?” soap followed up quickly, having had issues with his own flings petering out when he was distant and slow to reply.

“been with her long enough now it’s routine,” john said simply. he checked his weapons before heading for the exit. “helo in 5, be air ready.”

—

the mission had gone to shit, and they were stuck hidden in a building that looked like it was 10 seconds away from collapsing under a brisk wind when ghost finally felt his patience snap.

it was no one’s fault, but being stuck in another country with no back up and a target on their backs for an extra three weeks wasn’t ideal and johnny’s insistence on playing cards at every opportunity to keep his idle hands and mind busy combined with gaz’s tinny whistling had made for the perfect scenario to grate on simon’s patience quicker than anything else ever had.

“tell us about her. ya wife,” simon asked, his gaze slipping across to john, watching him pick at his nails. his cuticles were red and raw from four days of agitated fidgeting since they’d ran out of cigars and cigarettes. every so often simon caught him pat his empty pocket before he’d remember and huff heavily through his nose like a bull.

john closed his eyes at the mention of his wife and sighed. he started his description without protest or hesitance. “shes soft spoken. christ, you’d hardly know she was there half the time, she’s so quiet. but she’s firm. stands her ground no matter what,” he chuckled. “don’t think i’ve ever won an argument against her.”

kyle laughed and ghost closed his own eyes, trying to picture what he thought the captain’s wife might look like. pretty certainly, but was she tall, plump, did she have an endearing gap between her front teeth, did she keep her hair short or long?

“she’s a bit of a homebody,” john admitted bashfully, unaware of simon’s drifting thoughts. “but i can’t say i mind it.”

“not wanting to leave the bedroom much when yer back?” johnny joked, hissing when ghost punched his thigh.

john just smiled placidly, eyes still closed. his eyebrows pulled down as he gushed, “god she’s gorgeous in red. wears it every time i come home.”

“lucky bastard,” gaz huffed.

“yeah.” john nodded and finally opened his eyes. “yeah, lucky.”

“you’ll be back with her soon, cap,” gaz reassured him when he saw price swallow thickly.

“thanks, gaz. now who’s taking first watch tonight? soap?”

—

john was quiet on the plane ride home, not unusually so, but ghost noticed the difference all the same.

he was pensive perhaps, worried what his wife would say when he finally got home a month later than scheduled, uncontactable the entire time. ghost could understand to a certain degree that john would have more important things on his mind than what his three subordinates were going to do as soon as they stepped foot on home soil, so he didn’t push when john ignored the few threads of conversation thrown his way by their younger sergeants. instead he nodded when john said a quick goodbye as they all parted ways in the airport.

simon could only assume john was the same all the way home in the cab that dropped him outside of his little three bed house.

he didn’t see however how john hesitated at the door to his home that evening. how he gripped the front door keys tightly in his fist, shook as he stared down at his feet instead of letting his eyes drift and catch on the windows, and felt as though he could crack a tooth from how hard he was clenching his teeth.

he finally opened the door when he thought the neighbours might begin to get worried and stepped inside, flicking on the lights as he went.

it wasn’t until he got to the kitchen that he found her.

stood bare foot, silent, eyes wide and pleading, blood seeping - always seeping. would it ever stop? would the blood ever end? - through her white pyjama top, his top that she’d borrowed for the night, and trickling down her bare legs.

her mouth opened and she visibly struggled for breath, but no sound escaped even as her tongue wagged on the floor of her mouth, lapping at the backs of her teeth as all words escaped her.

he swallowed back bile.

“hello, sweetheart,” he choked out. “sorry i’m late.”

the blood pooled at her feet, the panties she wore were seeped a dark purple from the viscus liquid dying the dark blue material and the shirt stuck to her front. john had remembered loving seeing her like this in a morning, had always thought she looked best in as little clothing as possible.

“i know you hate it when work keeps me busy, but it was unexpected. we were caught—“ a high screech, not dissimilar to that of a whistle that only a dog could hear, pierced through his ears and cut his words short. he curled in and covered his ears, but he knew it would do no good, he should’ve known better than to talk about work around her.

not after what had happened last time he got back late after overtime.

tears prickle at his eyes and the sound abruptly stopped. he’d never questioned why it seemed to be only him that could hear her protests, why his neighbours never mentioned a shrill cry every so often from his home. he had always said she was made for him and that had apparently translated literally into the afterlife.

he looked up at her again - it was best not to ignore her he found. it only made her angry.

“it won’t happen again,” he promised wetly. “i did my best to get back as soon as i could, i promise, sweetheart—“ he choked on his words, biting back a sob. she watched unblinkingly, silent except for the wet squelch of her feet on the laminate.

they both knew he wasn’t apologising for being late this time. he got like this sometimes, when her agonised face and mangled body was too much to bear after a long mission and the guilt bore down like a physical presence.

he couldn’t help but think if he’d gotten home even just an hour earlier he might’ve been able to save her, to have kept her company instead of leaving her on the floor alone and cold, maybe he could have caught the bastards that had hurt her while he was still travelling back from deployment after agreeing to hang back and finish his paperwork there and then instead of emailing it across.

he reached a shaking hand forward and blew out a ragged breath when his hand met nothing but frigid air. but when he brought his hand up to his face he could smell the copper tang of his dead wife’s blood on his skin. the stench unwashable, cloying, but if he concentrated hard enough it ever so faintly smelt like the vanilla perfume she used to wear.

“was telling the lads about you, love,” he forced an empty chuckle as he walked around her to the kettle and went through their usual routine. “think they might’ve fallen a little in love, not that i could blame them.”

he ran a hand over his face and gave himself a moment to let the tears fall as his palm hid his eyes. her silence was the worst part of it all, but he could see the glaring red of her in his peripheral when he dropped his hand to the counter.

it wasn’t pretending his wife was still alive if she was right there at his shoulder, was it?

“looks like i’ll need to grab you some more pg tips, sweetheart,” he said and poured the boiling water into two cups, sparing a glance over his shoulder at his wife. “we’re almost out.”

post link

[gomzdrawfr]

PriceGhostWeek

cw: omegaverse, tini bit suggestive, inspo

What's hidden under the scarf?

what's hidden under the collar?

[lyraofthestarsss]

If I had a nickel for every time Laurance Zvahl got stuck in an alternate dimension for an indefinite amount of time I would have two nickels which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice

[ithinkdogshouldvote2]

I think there’s a decent case to be made that MCD Laurance was a victim of some form of sexual assault by Michi and that informs a lot of his actions in season two, but I don’t know if I’m reaching or not.

[kurithedweeb]

I know we always talk about Garroth ending up looking exactly like his father, but what about Dante growing up to look eerily like Gene.

When he joins up with Phoenix Drop, he's still young. He's a little on the short side, still a bit too thin from life in the wild and imprisonment, and he's a little anxious and shaky around so many people after having grown unused to living in a village. The smiling faces of the citizens remind you of your old home, of clamoring crowds and standing frozen in the plaza as your brother . . .

Anyway, it's good here. It's easy to fit in. The guards joke around with you and make sure you're healthy. They don't know a thing about dual wielding, but you get plenty of sparring partners out of helping the local baker practice her magick, and you maybe make a friend too. You're not too sure how you feel about the Lord, but she's a kind soul and does her best to make sure you're comfortable here in town, and her kids are great. Babysitting the boys is easily your favorite duty. Yeah, it's good here. For the first time in a long while, you feel like you're doing good.

Then the war comes. The children and non-combatants are sent away. The jovial atmosphere of the guard tower has soured into solemn silence as you make your final preparations. In the morning, you step into the battlefield and you go to war for the first time in your life. You have a horrible feeling in your gut that it won’t be the last.

You, Sir Laurance and Sir Garroth make a good team. It makes you sick. The three of you cross the battlefield at a slow and inevitable pace, cutting down any soldier that dares stray too close, and together you cleave the enemy forces in half, scattering them. The killing comes easy to you. You had hoped that in this peaceful new village, with time, you would become unfamiliar to how easily you were once able to take a life, but right then you’re glad your body never forgot the motions of death. Glad for the blood that stains your hands—how can you be glad?

You can’t remember how long you fought for. Days, weeks? Surely not months, or so you think. Yours is a small force, and though Miss Lucinda is a good healer, she grows tired while the other army’s numbers are replenished time and again. You remember the bags under her eyes as she tipped a potion sip by sip into your mouth the time you were shot through the face.

You remember sneaking into the enemy camp in the dead of night, skirting around the edges of it to the back line where the archers rested. You quietly slit five of their throats before you were noticed, and managed to slash another across the belly before the arrow caught you in the side of the face, in one cheek and out the other. The wood of the shaft cracked when you bit down. It was everything you could do not to scream as you fled. Dale thought you were a fiend when you first stepped out of the shadows, face obscured in blood and cradling your jaw as you cupped a hand beneath your mouth in an effort to catch more blood before it left a trail. Laurance held you while Garroth split the arrowhead from the rest of it with a knife and pulled the shaft out the other side of your face, your jaw gripped tight in one hand to keep you from struggling. It took hours to pull the splinters from your cheeks and tongue before they sent you to wake the healer. The whole ordeal had been excruciating. You might have cried. You remember that a lot more clearly than most other times at war. After a while, it’s hard to tell which side spills more blood when so much is shed that red squishes out of the earth wherever you step.

Every day, you fought dawn to dusk. And then one day you won. By Nicole literally knocking some sense into her father, of all things! You find a quiet corner to throw up in and for a beautiful moment, you think life in this little town you’ve started thinking of as home will go back to being good. Until your Lord tells you to guard the village as she races past the gates, and she doesn’t come back. None who followed her do either.

For days, you stand waiting at the gates. You don’t eat, you don’t sleep. O’khasis is gone, Scaleswind has made a refuge of the plaza, and still there is no sign of your Lord or your brothers-in-arms. You won’t even leave to have your wounds seen to. Nicole has to drag a doctor to the gates to treat you, and the entire time you watch the forest hoping that any moment they will reappear. You only step away when someone brings you news that the ship that took the children away has returned. You should be the one to tell them.

Zoey knows something is wrong the moment she sees you. Levin and Malachi smile and ask where their mother is—they call you ‘uncle’ while they do. You get down on your knees before them, and you gather them close in your arms, and you cry as you tell them their mother has been missing since the day the war ended. You’re still holding them when the exhaustion catches up with you.

Zoey is with you when you wake. She tells you you’ve been out nearly two days. She fusses over you, and you know you’ve worried her because that’s what she does when she’s worried. You’re a mess anyway, so you let her fuss. You drink the broth she makes you, you change into the clothes she provides, you sit still while she cuts the unruly mats of your hair and shaves your face. You used to cut yourself shaving all the time, no one ever taught you how and you were only six or so when Gene was learning to; you don’t remember now how he showed you each step or the laugh in his voice at the face of disgust you made when you slapped a little hand into the lather on his face and left behind a tiny palmprint. Zoey doesn’t cut you once. When she’s done with you, she takes you by the arm and guides you back into civilization, where everyone who remained has decided already on search parties to go out looking for your missing friends.

You head each expedition. Dale brings himself out of retirement to watch over the town while you’re gone, and asks only that you also look for his son. Does he know you used to be a tracker, used to spend days in the woods trailing coyotes and runaways for enough coin to carry you through the cold months? You try for him, but the ground is soft still and every step anyone takes leaves a print, all overlapping and muddled. You keep an eye out as you circle the same stretches of woods for days, but you find nothing. Your group goes further and faster than any other, the first to find and dismantle bandit camps and dens of fiends, but no matter how far you go you find not a sign of anyone who has disappeared that day. It’s as though they vanished into thin air. Every time you return home, Dale looks at you with hopeful eyes, and every time you must take him aside and break his heart a little more. Eventually, he stops asking.

For a year, you search. The area has never been safer. You have never felt so alone as when people start to suggest that a funeral may be in order.

You feel like a monster for the rage in your voice when you denounce these people. You know they aren’t dead—you would have felt such a thing, you know, you would have felt pieces of yourself snapping like wire pulled too taut, you would have felt the sharp edges tangling inside you—it would have felt like it did when the brother you killed rose from the grave to slit your throat and cut your very existence from the memory of Boboros. You hear white noise rumbling in your ears when the first brave soul says Sir Dante, there’s been no sign for a year now, and your blood is boiling when you slap their comforting hand off your shoulder. You spit that you’re not giving up just because everyone else has taken no evidence of life to mean the surety of death, and with their pitying looks burning into your back to return to the woods. You scream into the trees until you can’t anymore. When it doesn’t help, you use your considerable tracking skills to hunt something, anything, until you feel human again.

You crawl back home the day before the funeral with your cape stained with blood; they held it back so you could attend. You polish your armor and swords until they shine, and the warped reflection of your own face makes you feel sick the way waging war did. You stand at attention the entire ceremony without moving a muscle. When Dale reads the names of the deceased at the end, offering their souls into the embrace of the Matron, you salute, and the clatter of your armor silences the crowd.

Everyone who fought in the war salutes with you. So do your Lord’s sons. You’re too tired to cry. You hold your salute long after everyone else has left.

The remaining forces of Scaleswind return home. One by one, family by family, the streets of your home empty. Without your Lord, without your guard, the citizens trickle out the front gates and never turn back. Some apologize to you as they say their goodbyes, and some of them you actually believe. You close the gate behind each of them until all that remains is you, Zoey, and your Lord’s sons. Then Zoey tells you she’s taking the boys to the Yggdrasil Forest. She holds you tight for too long and kisses your brow when you show them to the gate for the last time.

You can’t believe you ever thought you knew what loneliness was before this.

For five years, you are completely and utterly alone. You search and you patrol and you do your best to maintain the village. You don’t believe in Irene, but every day before dawn you stand before her statue and look down down down over the cliff’s edge and pray that this won’t be the rest of your life. That you haven’t deluded yourself into believing a fantasy, that you haven’t made such an incredible fool of yourself that people can’t bear to be around you, that you haven’t been forgotten. For five years, you pray that someone, somewhere, remembers that you exist. You look down down down over the cliff’s edge and have the terrible thought that you don’t know what you’d do if you were forgotten again.

The gate is falling apart. You don’t know how to repair the damage the weather’s done to it, you tried to patch the cracks but it never holds. With each year, you’ve been pushed further and further outtowards the coast. The only places you have the energy to maintain anymore are the guard tower and your Lord’s home. You blockaded the gates when the mechanism broke, you check it on occasion to be sure no bandits get in, and one day you hear voices from the other side. Familiar voices. You scramble up the wall and look over the other side at a boy you don’t recognize looking back up at you. He says, Is that Uncle Dante? and you climb down as fast as you can to embrace Malachi.

He’s nearly the age you were when you first met his mother. He’s grown tall, and strong enough to carry his brother on his back. Levin is fevered when you first see him, flush and hurting even as he dozes, and Malachi tells you he can’t walk from how bad he hurts. You remember how Zoey fretted over him when he was young, how sometimes he’d scream for seemingly no reason, and once you show them to their mother’s home Malachi refuses to leave his bedside.

You sit with them and ask where Zoey is. Malachi tells you of her obsession, and the relief that you are not alone in the belief that those who disappeared are alive feels like a hint of betrayal. You’re relieved that she’s driving herself into a downward spiral because of what? Because it makes you feel like you were reasonable to fight not to let their souls be put to rest?

You wait for her at the gates deep into the night and take her to her boys when she bursts from the woods, frantic that she’d lost them, and safe if your Lord’s home she holds you so tight your ribs hurt from the force of her grip. After so long, you’re not alone anymore.

You wake before dawn and strap your swords to your back. For the first time in a long time, you feel safe enough to go without your armor. You hike up the steep cliff to the Irene statue. You kneel before her to offer your thanks. You look into the pool at her feet and fear grips you by the throat.

Your brother’s face looks back at you.

You wear your swords the way he did. Your hair falls like his, dark in the shadow of Irene. Your face is gaunt and pale from old habits, eating only enough to sustain yourself so rations will stretch long enough for you to find more—do you remember how they starved Gene before they killed him? How they weakened him so he wouldn’t have the energy to fight? How pale and gaunt he was, dirt streaking over the side of his face, blood and grime drying in his hair, shaking and sweaty with how hard he fought back? Do you remember the scar that twisted around his throat when he returned from the dead to get his vengeance? Your collar is open over the scar he left twisting across your own, and it matches his own so very well. In the shadows of your eyes, you see his own staring back.

You think of the war. You think of how easy the killing was. You think of how easily Gene cut through the guards, the Lord, the memories of Boboros. The rage in his voice when he denounced you as his brother, the twist of his smile when he told you he would leave you to rot, Dante. No one will ever remember you. You can see that twist in the corners of your own smile, pushed into shape by the deep scars on your cheeks. You and your brother are the same.

You’re shaking too much to stand. You never go without your armor again.

[iridiss]

it’s that time again folks. minecraft block people character analysis time. This time I wanna take an in-depth look at Garmau, Laurmau, and Garrance’s character dynamics, and I MEAN in-depth. I am breaking the canon source material down within an inch of its life. I am going to go until I either discover the character limit for a tumblr post, or reach the end of all Aphverse content, or reach the image limit of a single tumblr post. Whichever stops me first. Which is to say, this is a very long post, so if you want to read a Great Gatsby’s worth of information and analysis and gushing about Garrance, Garmau, and Laurmau, this is the place for you!

To get the party started, something I find to be immediately of notice is that the first thing Garroth ever says to Aphmau is a complaint about how he believes no one will ever listen to the guard (to him) anymore, not after Lord Malik’s “horrible” rulership.

This already paints a picture of a corrupt (or at the very least inept) leader that Garroth followed the word of. And by following Malik’s word, the people’s distrust or disdain for their previous Lord now extends to Garroth by proxy. There’s a sort of running theme with Garroth that I presumed, and it’s that Garroth feels a disconnect from the townspeople. They don’t trust him, he fears their disapproval, he’s a little bit of an outcast, regarded with some level of disdain. In Diaries: Rebirth, it’s instead stated that the guard are being suspected for the murder of Lord Malik and his family, because they don’t have the bodies to prove it wasn’t them, which is a WHOLE DIFFERENT LEVEL of “not trusting the guard”!! But Donna reiterates this idea in Rebirth, stating how the villagers have lost faith in Garroth.

This brings to mind the idea that Aphmau was likely one of the first few that really did listen to Garroth. If he already felt like an outsider in his own town, then it makes sense he would be drawn to a…literal outsider who’s new in town. There could easily be an aspect to Garroth and Aphmau’s relationship that extrapolates upon Aphmau’s attentive and persistent friendliness and kindness making Garroth feel heard and seen in a way he doesn’t often get.

His first overall impression with Aphmau is on the note of feeling surprised and grateful for all the work she’s done for the town. He thanks her, and offers minor aid/makes requests/encourages her to continue. He appears to only grow more and more flattered by her generosity as she continues, and one notable moment between the two of them I found to be utterly adorable was when Aphmau built him the first guard tower in episode 48:

It’s likely that this is how Garroth first started falling in love with her, through her acts of selfless generosity. The lines that stick out to me here are: “This is too much, you didn’t have to do this for me,” and “No one has ever done anything this nice for me.” Giving the impression that Garroth not only hasn’t received very much kindness in his life, but also feels insecure about being showered in presents from Aphmau, further pointing to this idea that he feels like he doesn’t deserve it. She keeps giving him what effectively feels like the world to him by repairing his withering village, and he doesn’t feel like he personally deserves any of the gifts she gives him, he’s taken aback and flustered by it and it absolutely means something significant to him that she’s helping his case as much as she is.

Plus, the state of the village likely contributes a lot to Garroth being frowned upon by the other villagers, so she, entirely unintentionally, ends up doing a lot to save his skin and make his life better in her casual, day-to-day improvements on the town. Even more so when Garroth becomes her personal guard and right-hand-man. If his name was soiled by working for Lord Malik, I can only imagine his reputation would be healed by working for Lord Aphmau. Which is to say, she makes his life better overall, without even realizing it.

After that, Garroth gets mortally wounded, and Aphmau travels all the way to Bright Port and faces the Alpha of the Southern Werewolf Tribe (and goes to hell!) to save his life. And soon after his recovery, Aphmau finds Levin, and brings him to Garroth.

He automatically volunteers to help Aphmau raise him the second he hears she’s going to raise this child herself, not even sparing a second to ask if he could but just. Without any hesitation or argument, he immediately steps up as Levin’s new foster dad. This blows me away, personally! Not very many people on this earth would just, without any hesitation or question, automatically volunteer themselves as some random kid’s new father figure just so that they didn’t have to watch their friend suffer through the trial of being a single mom. He recognizes that Aphmau is going to struggle to be a single mom, so he immediately takes away as much of that burden as he can by signing himself up as a co-parent. Now it’s Garroth’s turn to help Aphmau <3

To me, the intimacy of this commitment cannot be understated, even though the canon source material doesn’t recognize it as an intimate thing at all, or even as that big of a deal! They are now co-parents!! Well before they’re ever lovers, most likely well before Aphmau even develops any sort of attraction to or deep, personal bond with Garroth, they have become co-parents. They are now a family, because Garroth refuses to let her go through this alone. That shit!! Should mean!! A lot!!! To her!!! I think!!!!!! And should at the very least be the first, most pivotal moment between the two of them solidifying their bond as companions before anything else!!

I’m also beginning to notice a pattern between these two, a sense of “You’re not gonna be alone anymore. I’m here.” That now goes both ways. Previously, Aphmau had unintentionally been making Garroth feel less alone, and now, Garroth is making sure Aphmau doesn’t go through it alone.

Another adorable addition!!!

“In fact, he welcomed it like a proud father, he did!” I’m going to cry. Garroth helped organize a baby shower celebrating Levin’s arrival!! He was so happy to accept Levin as his new son, he threw a party about it!! “Look at my son!! I’m so proud of him already!!! I love him!! Look at him!! Everyone from Bright Port to Scaleswind will celebrate my new son!!!” Papa Garroth is so cute sometimes, he makes me so happy <3

From this point on, I would consider them companions. Garroth might have developed a small crush on her by this point, and there’s a chance that Aphmau has as well, but there’s also the chance that her feelings for him are still entirely platonic and such a thing has never even occurred to her before. They’re not really close at all, but they’re parenting together now. They’re a family before anything else.

I could be wrong about this but I think this is also around the time when Aphmau starts to receive a lot of pressure from people on the outside to Pick A Man And Get Married. A sizable chunk of the garmau/laurmau/etc. shipping content seems to consist of this, sadly. Where everyone else but Aphmau continues to press her over and over again about when she’s gonna shack up with Garroth or which man she should choose, and if I were in her shoes, I’d get pissed with anyone who asked me this. It’d get real old after the second time ‘round of someone else, completely unrelated to my love life, trying to pressure me to hook up with someone when I didn’t want to or didn’t feel ready to. Fortunately, Aphmau has a LOT more patience than me when it comes to dealing with this shit.

Dale asks Aphmau if she plans on hooking up with Garroth. Aphmau says no, she has too much on her plate right now to think about romance. There’s probably something to be said about how her rejection reason is “I’m too busy right now to worry about that” and not “no, ew, WTF, im not attracted to him, why would i ever hook up with Garroth.” Which, in the subtext, would imply that she very well could have some sort of attraction for Garroth or desire to get with him romantically, but since she’s the Lord of a village and dealing with all kinds of shit, she has decided to sweep all of that shit under the rug and just. Not worry about it, and ignore it for as long as she can before it starts to become a problem. Aphmau likes to do this a lot. If there is any romantic attraction in her brain, throughout most of the series she does a very, very good job at refusing to look at it. (which is very reasonable considering how fucked up everything around her is!! girl’s got a lot on her mind!! she doesn’t have time to start worrying about emotional shit, not when lives are at stake and she has a whole ass village to run and wars to fight !!!)

When the townspeople ask her if she wants to hook up with Garroth, her reaction is not “wait, what? why would I hook up with Garroth lmao. no, I’m not interested in him,” her response is “I don’t want to think about that right now.” And that is a noteworthily different thing than saying “ew no.” There is a world of difference between those two replies. And that is fascinating to me.

This is still a strong contrast to Mystreet Aphmau however, especially in comparison to how Mystreet starts with an Aphmau who crushes HARD and LOUD and is an open book with her feelings, it is NOT hard to tell when that freshman has a crush. MCD Aphmau is, from what I can personally tell, such a master of repressing her own emotions that she can easily be mistaken for having zero attraction for anyone at all throughout the entirety of season 1. For her, you kinda have to dig for “tells” that she’s attracted to Garroth or Laurance, up until the beginning of s2. While Garroth and Laurance wear their hearts on their sleeve, Aphmau buries it deep where she doesn’t have to look at it, doesn’t have to worry about it, doesn’t have to make any rash, life-changing decisions, doesn’t have to face the vulnerability of it, and can instead put her energy towards much more important shit, like saving lives and recovering towns and stopping wars.

This is how I interpret her reactions and responses, at least. She seems much more romantically reserved than Mystreet Aphmau ever is, if im being honest

…then of course there’s this classic moment lmao

Garroth prepares Aphmau a chest of supplies she’ll need for her journey to meet Levin’s mother, and inside is a wedding ring. Aphmau is confused to find a wedding ring in the chest, and says “uhhhh…I don’t need that” and sets it aside. Meanwhile, Garroth stands less than a foot away.

My man, you have got to be less subtle than that.

Not that I think she would have accepted the offer if it were bolder, I believe she would still reject him all the same at this point in time, but this also shows how Garroth prefers to handle matters of confessing his feelings for someone. He doesn’t get on one knee and beg for her to marry him in front of everyone in Phoenix Drop, or make any sort of grand love confession—no, he doesn’t even specify that he was the one who prepared the chest!! He tries to be incredibly subtle about his feelings for her, trying backwards silent ways to maybe, quietly, suggest that he likes her. He’s shy about it!! He struggles to make grand gestures of proclaimed affection!! He’s quiet with his feelings and doesn’t talk about them!!

Later on, this will contrast Laurance, who handles his feelings in the POLAR OPPOSITE way, loudly and proudly and utterly obnoxiously even to a highly detrimental point, and it’s interesting to see the differences in Aphmau’s beginning opinions of Garroth vs her first impression of Laurance. She’s civil and friendly and giving towards Garroth, they don’t talk about their intimate feelings (because they’re both chronically bad at it lmao) but they become a family and she trusts him with that, she trusts him with her child and with her life, and goes the limit to save his own life and make sure he’s okay. And meanwhile, her first impression of Laurance is much closer to hating his guts lmao. It’s interesting to think about how Laurance’s bold demeanor clashes with Aphmau’s more reserved demeanor at first, before that boldness ends up becoming something she needs, something that fills a void in her life that she depends on and trusts to always be upfront and honest with her (we’ll get more into that later). And meanwhile, Aphmau and Garroth both matching with kinda-similar demeanors leads to them becoming friends much faster than Laurmau does, buuut it also means it takes them 100+ episodes to actually confront how they feel about each other lmao.

I also want to point out: At this point, Garroth is not just asking Aphmau to maybe consider dating him. He’s going straight to marriage. Which means Garroth—the man infamously known from running away from a previous engagement, might I add—is willing to become her goddamn husband right goddamn now.

This could probably be attributed again to the fact that they’re co-parents together. Something about assuming it’d be “easier to raise a child together and be levin’s mom and dad for realsies” if they were married. But Aphmau’s also just about to travel to meet Matilda, so Garroth knows that there’s a full possibility that Levin may not be their kid to raise anymore when she gets back. If they got married now, before she left, then they may not be parents anymore, but they could still be a couple/a family together. Maybe this was even some sort of last-ditch effort to salvage that and make sure their new arrangement stays, so he doesn’t have to let go of this wonderful thing with Levin’s absence. My man’s got fatherhood and family and marriage on the mind—and meanwhile, Aphmau doesn’t even want to start THINKING about the possibility of romance. When it comes to handling a possible intimate relationship, they’re both really bad at talking about their feelings, but in terms of what they’re willing to face—these two are on opposite ends of the book. He’s willing to become her goddamn husband, but Aphmau doesn’t even wanna think about romance—no matter what she may truly feel.

It is at this point when Laurance enters the scene.

Lmao, MCD!Aphmau has a WILDLY different reaction to Laurance’s advances than Rebirth!Aphmau. Rebirth!Aphmau blushes bright red and feels flustered and confused by his flirting, and meanwhile MCD!Aphmau says he is “creeping her out” and tells him to get the fuck away from her and says “uhhh no thanks!!” To all of his advances. She is NOT a fan of his pick-up lines and finds his advances unnerving, unwelcome, and often frustrating. I like to imagine this is to contrast gentlemanly Garroth, who would never EVER treat a lady so inappropriately. But Aphmau is frustrated with Laurance’s advances for a long while throughout S1, and it’s only as she starts to get to know Laurance intimately as a person and as a friend first that her reaction to his flirting gradually changes from irritation to laughter, teasing him back and playing along with their banter. He ends up flirting with her mostly just to make her laugh, because he knows she’ll crack up smiling whenever he does, and he likes to see her smile. Buuut that’s only when they become closer friends first, right now they’re practically strangers, and Aphmau hates his inappropriate behavior.

(disclaimer to all the fellas in the audience: please don’t ever actually do this in real life. if a girl very clearly says no to all of your advances, back the fuck off and stop. im taking a gentle hand with this because Laurance is a little more complicated of a character whom I adore very much and I want to analyze him and his relationship with Aphmau with an open-minded, gracious hand in order to give their later relationship and true bond in canon a fair and accurate, loving chance. but in real life? its much simpler. this would be considered sexual harassment. please don’t ever do this lmao)

The first ever Garroth/Laurance/Aphmau interaction is when Aphmau gets arrested. I love the contrast here between how Laurance and Garroth talk about each other. “He seems like a nice guy!” VS “How inappropriate. I’ll make sure to have a few words with him…” Garroth’s first impression of Laurance is disdain for his behavior (and for flirting with his crush), and Laurance’s first impression of Garroth is “I like this guy! He’s nice :)” lmao. The feeling is not mutual, Laurance.

Then we have the face reveal scene. Here, Garroth’s deepest shame is put on display. Very intimately, Aphmau is the only one he trusts enough to see him like this, to let her in and see his worst sins.

He feels like he’s failed the village, and has likely failed his people in general, for a myriad of reasons. 1. He feels responsible for Zenix’s betrayal and corruption, because Zenix was his apprentice, he feels like his upbringing is his responsibility, and if Zenix turns bad, it’s therefore his fault for not teaching him to know better. For not noticing that Zenix was even corrupt or a Shadow Knight in the first place. Garroth feels like the attack on the town is his fault, because of this. 2. He left his kingdom behind in their time of need, because he couldn’t face marrying a woman he didn’t love, so he’s already pretty predisposed to feel guilty and ashamed of himself and convinced that he’s a failure. This is why revealing his face to Aphmau brings back the worst of his shame when paired with Zenix’s betrayal. To him, showing her his princely appearance and his true identity (the thing he tries his damndest to keep hidden from other villagers, his skeleton in the closet) is the equivalent of showing her a raw and infected wound. He is deeply insecure, but Aphmau doesn’t see him as a failure. She doesn’t see him for his faults at all and sympathizes with him, insisting that he doesn’t deserve to hurt like this. He disagrees.

Maybe he’s too far deep in his own shame for pretty words to drag him out, maybe he knows that Aphmau doesn’t understand that he’s a Prince yet. She doesn’t understand the full extent of his crimes, so she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. It’s a nice sentiment, but he’s certain that once she learns the full truth about him, she’ll turn her back on him and see that the cruel voice inside his head is right.

Little does he know how truly forgiving Aphmau is, especially with him. She worries for him.

I wonder if there’s an angle to be played that Garroth’s personal shame and self-loathing might effect his ability to open up and be confident and bold on his own—and how that would effect his view of Laurance, as well. Because here’s the thing, Garroth doesn’t know it yet, but Laurance is just as full of guilt and shame as he is. Laurance blames himself for the death of his father figure, Lord, and previous mentor, in the same way Garroth blames himself for Zenix’s attack. Laurance feels like he’s failed as a guard, and it’s easy to think that he would carry that feeling with him going forward. But Laurance handles his shame differently. He handles it by hiding behind a mask.

This clip is fascinating to me because it’s the first time Laurance truly, fully, deeply opens up to Aphmau on a vulnerable level. And in doing so, he lets her peek behind the mask for just a moment, to reveal that this flirtatious Casanova exterior he has is nothing but that—an exterior. An act. It’s something he’s making up to hide the fact that in truth, he’s awkward and doesn’t know what to do or how else to respond to all the one-sided advances he’s getting. He doesn’t flirt with the girls of Meteli because he actually likes them, he does it because… he doesn’t know what else to do. He goes along with the game as a sort of front, and without it, he actually really struggled to talk to girls and connect with others. He never actually forms a more intimate bond with any of these girls, and later on he even reveals that he’d never even kissed a girl before Aphmau. This man is a single virgin who hasn’t even kissed anyone before, he doesn’t actually sleep around or date anyone, the player act is all for show.

And I believe Laurance uses this front to cover up other emotions or parts of himself as well, more than just his true awkward nature and disinterest in any of these women. Laurance strikes me as the kind of guy who uses humor to cope with the pain, or to hide how insecure/scared/depressed/upset he actually feels. Maybe if all of Meteli thinks of him as the confident, sexy, Casanova flirt who picks up chicks all the time, they won’t see him for the failure he truly is: the guard who couldn’t even save his father’s life.

Garroth hides behind a literal mask. Laurance hides behind a figurative one.

But Laurance is so good at pretending to be confident and bold and brave that it’s likely Garroth feels jealous of him. In episode 15 of S2, Garroth says: “…Or maybe, I’m just having flashforwards to things I should have done. I feel like I should have taken the time to know you more as a person, rather than just protecting you as my Lord. In a way, I’m a little jealous of Laurance. He was able to befriend you, and make you laugh. . . . I wish I had the chance to create fond memories like that with you. I wasn’t sure how to approach you, so I just acted as your Guard.” Which is true! Before Laurance showed up, 98% of Garroth and Aphmau’s interactions were purely formal.

It’s funny, despite Aphmau not actually wanting any of Laurance’s romantic advances, Garroth wishes he could be more like Laurance. I can guarantee you if Garroth tried to flirt with Aphmau as obnoxiously as Laurance did, he would still get rejected. Because Aphmau doesn’t really work that way, you need to become her friend first, form an actual bond, before she’d even allow herself to start thinking about romancing you. She’s not one for smooth, confident, hot guys who pick up chicks, she’s got a goddamn job to do (even if Garroth flirted with her, it wouldn’t change the workload she has to focus on instead)

By episode 39, Garroth‘s opinion of Laurance seems to be improving. From nothing but irritated disdain, to “he’s a good man, he’s in my good graces and I’m on friendly terms with him now, but I still don’t like how inappropriately he treats you.” Laurance’s friendliness is beginning to be reciprocated! :D There’s also a blooming impression that Laurance and Garroth are beginning to speak with each other off-screen, especially with Laurance talking about them sharing a previous confrontation over Aphmau off-screen (and Laurance flippantly disregarding Garroth’s request to stop harassing her lol)

And then… Laurance gets trapped in the Nether. He sacrifices himself to save Aphmau (and castor)‘s life, but sadly gets left behind to face Shad all by himself. It’s an incredibly noble thing for him to do, and frankly, it’s a way we can look at Laurance’s actions, and not his words, to see more clearly what kind of person he truly is at heart, and it’s someone selfless and caring and honorable enough to give his life to save an old friend that consistently pisses him off, and a woman he barely even really knew. It’s an act that solidifies an impression on Aphmau, and from this point onwards, she doesn’t seem to treat him like an annoyance anymore, but as a friend that she worries for and wants to take care of.

Garroth’s reaction is more…complicated, however. When Aphmau first arrives on PD shores to tell him the news, Garroth’s reflexive reaction is this:

Garroth doesn’t hate Laurance for “stealing his thunder” and saving Aphmau’s life, it actually hugely improves his opinion of the man. He’s deeply grateful for him and his sacrifice, and values his honor and knighthood quite a lot. He’s determined to save him and bring him back (even though he may pose a “threat” as a “romantic rival”).

…Up until Ungrth comes back with the news of Laurance’s transformation into a Shadow Knight. Now here’s where shit gets dicey. As a Shadow Knight, it would be in Laurence’s nature to kill Aphmau, and he forever will be drawn to killing her. This makes him incredibly dangerous, and a massive risk to Aphmau’s life from this point forward. Understandably, this makes Garroth feel a bit… nervous. Apparently so nervous that he decides to pull this:

This feels a bit cold, to me. It makes sense logically speaking, but like. I’m pretty sure the continuity of the series forgot this rule for a reason lmao, because forcing Laurance to kill himself the second he leaves the Nether would be one HELL of a derailment of the main plot. There’s a potential timeline out there where the narrative didn’t forget about this rule and Garroth could’ve tried to hold him to this, and he tries to pressure him into it, and Laurance gets caught in a binding dilemma as a guard, but also as a person!! That’d be dark as shit!! And very fucked up!! Especially considering the horrific trauma he’s been through and the mental state he’s in once he’s freed!! There’s a world out there where Garroth makes his mental health sooooooo sosososo much worse than it was and Aphmau has to step in and tell him to knock it the fuck off. Would it be in character for him to do that? I dunno! That’s why I’m here! Did Garroth abandon his own rules on purpose? Was it intentional that Garroth never ended up holding Laurance to the rule he created? Is there a world where Garroth gets it in his craw that he needs to protect Aphmau above all else, even at the cost of Laurance’s life, and he hand-writes and integrates a new and damning rule into Knighthood itself to eliminate him as a threat—but then he actually reunites with Laurance, and he sees him for the traumatized, earnest, tender, broken man that he is, and silently decides to never bring it up again? To potentially betray his own honor as a guard by forgetting the very rule he created, because he can’t bring himself to face the cruel reality of actually forcing Laurance to do it now that he’s seeing him face-to-face? Did Laurance’s return soften his heart?

…or was that just a continuity error in an amateurly crafted minecraft roleplay series made in a youtuber’s bedroom lmao.

…Probably just the latter. Either way, I can’t help but just…take note of the vehement 180 he did? When it’s just Laurance by himself, he’s desperate to save him, but when he’s dealing with a Shadow Knight who’s very likely to kill Aphmau, it’s Aphmau’s life over all. She is his Lord after all…but also, the love of his life. Of course he would pick saving her life over making sure Laurance gets out of the Nether alive. He barely even knew the man by this point. He had only just barely started to feel positively about him on a basic level, so of course he would choose to kill Laurance and single-handedly sabotage any chance of bringing him back in one piece, if it meant he could save Aphmau’s life instead.

…now, of course, the narrative kinda forgets this rule and it doesn’t really come up ever again, especially after Laurance’s return, but I still want to point this out as a view into a sort of…darker side of Garroth. For a man with supposedly such a big heart, he does seem to be able to drastically shut it off at a moments notice, if he’s been horrendously slighted in some way or another. Even if it comes at the expense of others lives. It’s cold as fuck of a choice, but it’s also very understandable that he wouldn’t want to welcome a sort of…murderous monster into his home and put the life of his Lord at such huge risk, possibly even his family and Phoenix Drop itself could have been endangered as well. Thats the mother of his child he’s protecting here, and all he knows is that Laurance is pretty guaranteed to try to kill her the second he comes back. They just barely tangoed with the damages of Zenix’s own attack on the village, he does not want to contend with that a second time.

I can’t help but imagine how Garroth and Aphmau might’ve argued and fought over what to do about Laurance.

Aphmau desperately wants to save Laurance and bring him back, despite the risk upon her own health and safety. Garroth, however, stops her, and holds her back. He’s terrified of Laurance hurting her now. Even if he is their friend, he’s not willing to sacrifice her to bring him back. They still care for each other, despite this conflict of interests. Aphmau’s care for Laurance pulls her to him, despite the danger, Garroth’s care for her holds her back, and Aphmau’s care for Garroth brings her to listen to him and continue to do nothing.

I don’t feel like Garroth is doing this to “keep Aphmau all to himself.” I think his love for her is most certainly influencing him to be more protective than usual, but I think the theory that he’s actively sabotaging Laurance’s return out of “jealous rivalry” was proven wrong by his reflex response at the start. Like, if Laurance had gotten stuck in the Wyvern dimension instead, Garroth would 1000% single-handedly fish him out and bring him back to stay at their side. Before Ungrth confirmed that he was being transformed into a bloodthirsty monster, he was desperate to rescue him. But now, he had to choose between Laurance’s life, or Aphmau’s, in bringing him back. He’s closer with Aphmau, he loves her dearly, he’s raising a child with her, a son who needs his mother, Phoenix Drop had just been attacked by another Shadow Knight already, an attack he feels horribly responsible for. So if he feels guilty for leading Phoenix Drop into ruin under Zenix, then he absolutely is going to try his damndest to prevent that from happening again. He will do everything in his power to amend his sins by keeping the village, and his Lord, perfectly safe.

And I think he’s probably even sad that Laurance is gone! “Laurance was a good man and a worthy guard, it’s a shame the order lost him. Ulrich and Luna of Meteli told me so many notable deeds Laurance has done for his people…” He wasn’t intimately close with the man at this point, but there’s a clear solemn respect that he holds for him now that he’s gone. He wishes that it hadn’t come to this, he wishes that Laurance was okay and that this never had to happen. He believes he’s honoring Laurance’s wishes by choosing to keep Aphmau safe, saying if it were him in Laurance’s shoes, he would have wanted him to do the same. This tells me he fully believes that if Garroth had gotten trapped in the Nether instead, and Laurance was left on the other side, he would fully expect Laurance to treat him the same way, to leave him abandoned in the Nether, to suffer the torture and trauma and pain alone.

…I don’t fully think Laurance would do the same, however. I feel like he would have been at least a handful more open to the idea of rescuing Garroth, especially since Laurance felt much more positively about Garroth as a friend than Garroth felt about Laurance.

Garroth and Aphmau make up when Zane arrives. He starts trying to force Garroth to reveal his identity as the Prince of O’khasis. Aphmau doesn’t know that he’s a Prince, however, she only knows that he feels uncomfortable with showing his face for reasons he refuses to talk about. When the High Priest of O’khasis himself demands she order him to take off his helmet, she defends Garroth’s boundaries and refuses.

And even when her hands are tied and he forces her to order him to do it anyway, she finds a loophole to make sure his boundaries stay protected.

This means A LOT to Garroth. Considering how vehemently Zane, his brother, is currently trying to break his boundaries (and the fact that he was forced into a marriage he didn't consent to), its likely that Garroth's family frequently refuse to give a shit about his boundaries or his consent or his opinion about what he does and does not do with his personhood, life, body, and appearance. So to have Aphmau, someone in charge who very much has the power to force him to do what he doesn't want to do, then turn around and respect him as a human being and care for his consent on a level no one's ever done for him before? It means a fuckin lot!!

they truly are the “he asked for no pickles!” couple of all time…… aphmau protecting Garroth as he protects her…… protective aphmau…… aphmau defending Garroth when he’s the one in need of a knight……

This means so much to him, that he decides to...go out in public for some reason?? Anyway?? Despite all that fuss?? And shows up at the reception to ask Aphmau to dance with him. Any strain over Laurance is mended, as they enjoy their night together and share a special moment.

They're starting to really drop their formal, professional behavior from earlier. They really are beginning to draw close to each other now, allowing themselves to joke around more often. Aphmau starts teasing him more, and he lightens up a lot. Aphmau’s own reactions have started to shift from neutral, professional, unbothered, breezing through the scenes without much of a reaction at all on the video cam, to now smiling and laughing along. She grows fond at the sight of him. A playful heart that’s often so buried under the professionalism of their jobs and the stress of their lives bleeds out in the brief moments where they can take a break from it all, in the moments of casual comfort they bring each other.

(also Garroth nearly asking if they could get married…… he tries a second time……)

I do want to note that Aphmau 100% supports Garroth’s decision to leave his throne behind. She doesn’t want Garroth to go back and fulfill his duties, she wants him to stay right here with her and leave the rest of the world behind. She needs him here with her, with their son, with the town that relies on him, as her guard, as her dear companion. This contrasts Laurance’s own opinion, who believes going back and returning to his old throne and marrying Nicole is not only the more honorable thing to do, but would likely get them out of this mess if he did.

He finds Garroth’s refusal to take the throne cowardly, and seems to resent him for it, at least on some minor level. If Garroth just tended to his responsibilities and stopped running away, he could single-handedly take over the threat of O’khasis as a whole and make the world a better place, and they wouldn’t need to suffer through any more violence and war and loss at the hands of Zane Ro’meave or the King. But it means more than that to Garroth. He’s terrified of taking any position of leadership. Partially because he’s just naturally better at being a follower than a leader, but mainly because he refuses to become his father. In episode 68 of S1, he admits that he used to look up to his father a lot, he wanted to grow up to be exactly like him. But then he turned cruel and corrupt with time, and Garroth’s feelings changed. If his father is abusive, it’s likely that he had some sort of realization of the truth about how horrible his father truly was. I do feel like it is NOT a coincidence that Garroth looks almost exactly like Garte and is named after him. It’s pretty much like if he named him, “Garte Jr.” It would make sense if Garroth’s chosen destiny was meant to revolve around continuing Garte’s legacy, taking his place when he’s gone, becoming the perfect King as his father wanted him to become, act and behave. Which is to say, a cruel and corrupt one. It’s easy to think that Garroth, as kind and soft and shy and good as he is, didn’t want anything to do with fulfilling that legacy. He had been running away from his father long before the marriage arrangement. When he was in his youth, he says he joined the Guard Academy specifically so he could get away from his father, saying “one day [he] had enough.” He runs away from the throne not because he’s a coward who doesn’t feel like being responsible—he’s incredibly responsible, when it comes to being a Head Guard—he runs away because he’s running away from his father.

It’s likely he’s running away from abuse. Or at least some sort of toxic, unhealthy, or potentially even abusive family dynamic, given how many examples we see of the Ro’meave being dysfunctional and cruel and uncaring, with Zane’s behavior, with Garte’s behavior, with Zianna feeling the need to cheat and confide in another man due to how bad her husband got, with Garroth running away from his family as far as he can get and literally going under cover just to avoid them. These are not the signs of a happy, functional family unit. These are the signs of trauma.

What doesn’t occur to Laurance is the extent of what he’s asking Garroth to do, by returning to his family and their legacy. To step up and become King. Laurance, the stubborn man who grew up with caring Hayden as a father, with a perfect loving sister, and however Joh was like as a dad, he only sees the potential Garroth has to become the wonderful, good Lord that fixes everything and undoes all the damage and brings peace to the world. He doesn’t see the darker truth that it means to Garroth, the scars that motivate him to hide himself so vehemently, all the time.

I wonder if Garroth would be more confident in himself if he grew up in a healthier family unit. Maybe that’s why Mystreet!Garroth behaves so differently (and was able to confess his love to Aphmau MUCH sooner). He carries this strong sense of guilt, of shame, of feeling like he’s always inadequate and always a failure who doesn’t deserve love or nice things and doesn’t quite know how to love yet. Insecurity that strong usually comes from somewhere, and I believe it came from Garroth’s upbringing/childhood/family/mainly his father. Especially since that level of shame and guilt isn’t anywhere NEAR as present in Mystreet!Garroth. There’s a point to be made about how he always hides his feelings, buries himself deep, and always assumes that it’s his fault when something goes wrong. Especially if part of his guilt stems from…not taking the throne. From refusing to become what his father, his family, wanted him to be, all because he couldn’t take it.

I feel like all of this does occur to Aphmau. And that’s one of the main reasons why she’s so empathetic with him, why she immediately takes his side and refuses to turn him over to Zane and insists that he stay here, with her, and run far away from that arranged marriage and his father. She’s protecting him. Here, he’s safe. Here, she can continue to love him and keep him close. She recognizes his family for the corrupt and fucked up unit that it is and refuses to let him subject himself to that suffering any more. She knows he doesn’t want to go back, doesn’t want to marry Nicole, and she stands by his boundaries and defends them, even with an entire army, even with her life and the lives of her people, if it means keeping him out of Zane’s grasp.

…But also… if he stays with her, and never accepts his arraigned marriage… it means he’s still up for grabs. He stays single… he stays with Aphmau. So if she wants to date him, if she wants to marry him sometime in the future, then she can. I do believe there is a romantic aspect to her refusal to accept the arraigned marriage. It doesn’t feel to me like she’s rejecting it purely only on principle, there’s surely some sort of intent behind making sure Garroth stays single lmao. (especially since this is the aphverse we’re talking about……)

No matter what he does or what horrendous faults he commits, she still clings on tight to him. She refuses to let him go.

Speaking of Laurance, guess who returns from the Nether!!! And Garroth has a turnaround!

I don’t know what happened to “Laurance needs to kill himself the second he touches overworld soil” but I’m happy to see it has immediately vanished from Garroth’s mind. He cares for Laurance, though “I’ll be watching just in case he turns” shows he still has that sense of caution when handling SK!Laurance. He wants to take care of him and make sure he’s okay, and he pities what he’s been through. Saving Aphmau’s life did a lot to improve his trust + opinion of the man.

Laurance hugely confides in Aphmau once he’s returned. But before I get to that, I want to unpack this confession.

Laurance refuses to pressure Aphmau into a relationship. Neither of them are ready for one, and he’s certainly not at a place mentally or physically where he could handle being someone’s boyfriend. He tells her this not to get anything out of it, but because he knows he lives on a timer, and he doesn’t know when it’s gonna run out. He doesn’t know if or when he’s going to hurt her and lose control, so he wants her to know that he loves her. As some sort of parting words before the storm begins, but also likely as reassurance for like…”hey, if I turn and try to kill you later, just know that’s not actually me and I don’t want to hurt you!” He’s also pretty chill about her rejecting him.

That rejection.

See, this is where my job gets hard. As the POV YouTuber roleplaying in a minecraft server, it’s harder to see into Aphmau’s head than it is to see into the NPCs. She’s sort of a…vessel, at times, and other characters often try to decide what Aphmau thinks or feels. There’s a lot of people in the cast claiming that Aphmau has romantic feelings for Laurance and Garroth, but that’s their opinion, and if you remove all the outside pressure and actually look at what subtle, minute actions and reactions Aphmau has, it is very different from what everyone else keeps presuming about her. It’s fascinating how everyone else in the cast just kind of…assumes Aphmau’s feelings for her and tells her how she feels, all the time, while Aphmau herself is a lot more reserved and subtle and harder to read. Laurance states a factual detail here though, she supposedly clenched her grip on his hand when he confessed.

…in real life, this kind of physical reflex would mean jack shit. My hands would be fuckin’ tensing up too if someone I wasn’t attracted to suddenly dropped a love confession on my ass. My hands would tense up if the love of my life confessed to me. My hands would tense up if they said they didn’t care about me. My hands would tense up if the love of my life said there’s a goddamn ice cream truck around the corner and we should go get that sweet sweet creamy sugar substance right tf now. I don’t care. This means nothing. If we’re gonna talk noticing physical details that imply someone is experiencing attraction, Garroth would surely mention something about Aphmau blushing bright red, or Aphmau’s own dialogue options would specify that she starts to blush, as they end up often doing later on. This is bullshit.

So I’m inclined to believe that Laurance is full of shit. But as a writer, I also know what it’s like to use characters dropping facts like this as some sort of way to directly communicate to the audience that they’re dropping an important truth bomb and that another character is lying. So I don’t know for sure. Personally, if we’re going off of Aphmau’s reactions and development up to this point, I’m inclined to believe that she’s telling the truth when she says she’s not interested in him romantically (as per usual) and Laurance is just being the same little shit he always is. But MCD!Aphmau also seems to be the type to lie about her feelings and push them away if she was pushed against some sort of wall and pressured to choose in the moment. So take it as you will, I guess.

Nonetheless, she appreciates the honesty. This hasn’t ruined whatever fondness she feels for Laurance. But additionally, she appreciates the honesty, coming from Casanova Laurance. The man who puts up a mask and fakes being a flirt. If she knows that all the previous times Laurance flirted with her was him blowing smoke and pretending to be something he’s not, then she knows that this confession was as real and true as they come. This is Laurance finally dropping that mask completely and being nothing but his full, vulnerable, genuine self for her, and there’s this potent fondness shared between the two of them for it. That raw intimacy, he shows her what he’s really like underneath, and she says, “I appreciate the honesty.” She appreciates the true Laurance. She cares, deeply, for the real Laurance, and is happy to meet him. “Please do this again,” she communicates to him, “I don’t want my rejection to dissuade you from thinking I still care about you, because I do. You mean so much to me already, and I want to see more of the real you. I appreciate you, I’m happy you’re back. Stay by my side.”

They’re so soft I’m gonna die. I’m gonna SCREAM—

Aphmau immediately turns around and starts teasing Garroth. Lmao look at this loser you guys.

…do you think this means she knows he has feelings for her. do you think this means she has feelings for him. Either way, I love to see her fluster Garroth by being bold and ballsy with her taunting. When she’s comfortable with someone, MCD!Aphmau really can be a flirt at times. ((btw this definitely absolutely counts as a flirt. like this is the kind of shit I would pull on my own crush. girlie you are not fooling anyone))

These two are fucking hilarious. Aphmau like “…what if we ‘pretended’ we were dating……… what if you called me your girlfriend and gave me kisses and called me honeybear in public ……… what if we hooked up but it was all for the joke hahahaha…… purely only for business!!! because all that matters to me is making sure my job of saving the town and my people and my loved ones is fulfilled!!! and that includes saving your life rn hahaha!!! do you think it would save your life if you kissed me” girl. girl come on. at this point you are actively looking for an excuse to allow yourself this. I just love so much that she’s the one who suggested it and came up with the idea in the first place (why were u thinking of pretending to be his girlfriend honey… that’s suspish…), and Garroth immediately turns very visibly flustered and refuses, insisting he could never force her to do such a thing for his sake. Of course Garroth Ro’meave would never ever ever ever come up with the idea of forcing someone else into a romantic relationship they didn’t want to be in, that’s so on brand for you. Of course it would never occur to you to envision a hypothetical scenario where you possibly had an excuse to be romancey with your crush. Loser. Nerd. Doofus. Dork. Dweeb. I want to squeeze his tiny body in my hands and make him squeak repeatedly

The idea that Aphmau searches for an excuse to allow herself a love life the moment it becomes relevant to her “job” because she feels like work is all she’s allowed to focus on… girl……… you have got to allow yourself to live a little I stg

Behold, the beginning of Laurance and Aphmau’s playful back-and-forth teasing banter!!! One of the best and funniest parts of their dynamic. Once Aphmau forms a genuine bond with Laurance giving his life for her and revealing his true self to her from that point onwards (because he’s too fuckin traumatized and depressed to keep up the mask as much as he did before, and Aphmau means way too much to him now to not be sincere and vulnerable with her), she switches how she responds to his flirting and his dialogue, and starts teasing him back. They become much more light-hearted, and in the same way Laurance loves to make Aphmau laugh, it’s heartwarming to see her return the same sentiment for him, making him crack a smile while he’s at his worst. She brightens his day, every way she can. She’s so proud of him. She’s seen how he’s changing, and she’s so, so proud. She sees him smile again, and it makes her so happy to see. She’s so proud of him every moment he smiles and laughs and looks towards something better. She takes his hand!! She holds his hand and happily offers to guide him through!! She convinces him to get back on his feet and go to a party!! AUUGHHH !!!!!! He means so much to her now. Maybe she’s trying to do everything she can to repay the favor of the immeasurable gift he gave her, maybe she’s incredibly grateful for his sacrifice and wants him, the real Laurance, to know that he’s safe here, with her, and he always will be. She was desperate to get him back, and now that she has him, she’s going to do everything in her power to make sure he feels appreciated and happy and safe and cared for. She’s not just tolerating a weird stranger anymore—thats her new best friend.

They’re so goddamn adorable. They turned into something so wholesome. I love them you guys.

Also, remember that I said I would go until I hit either the character limit or the image limit? I’ve hit the image limit now. We’re making this analysis journey a multi-parter. I’ll link the next part here at the bottom of the post (and likely at the top as well) once it’s uploaded! I could and I can and I will gush about these losers all day and night long. See you in part two!

[gumbootillustrations]

they totally boned after this lmao

uhh context for the bit abt the booze at the start. @shadowqnights n i were yarning n came to the conclusion that garroth is a 24 pack of lion red guy whereas laurance is suuuper into his craft beer n cider. they fight abt it All The Fucking Time.

[garroth-is-done]

Thinking about shadow knights again:

I love the concept that sks aren’t even vaguely human looking in their true form. And I don’t mean this in a “they are animals/creatures” way or in a “they’re just Minecraft nether mobs” way, but in a “they look like analogue horror monsters and actually behave like them too” way.

Ya know, the stretched out limbs, smiles too wide to be natural, claw-like fingers, horrific death rattle breathing sounds; the absolute works of analogue horror. Even in human form the look kinda off too; their eyes are open a bit too wide, their teeth just a bit too sharp.

Behavior wise, if you piss them off bad enough they start to work like the alternates from the mandala catalog. They take the form of someone the person who made them angry loves and they hunt them down in their own home. They leave gory messes behind, not even bothering to try and cover up what they did. You know someone was killed by an sk by the fact that they’re nothing more than a blood splatter on the floor, crushed bones and a bit of gray matter all that is left of them.

Idk, just shadow knights being absolutely terrifying horror monsters instead of just a bunch of knights in red and black armor like some 12 year olds edge deviantart oc

[dreamdripdistance]

im genuinely obsessed with sasaras verse in the division rap battle final ver. like bro is so sick and tired of this shit its great

[mcdbutichangedit]

Wasn't Brian being the spy basically completely glossed over or am I remembering wrong? Is he EVER brought up again? Is it ever clear WHY he was the spy?

I vaguely remember someone saying something about him being an actual different person after going to guard school, like, they straight up replaced real Brian (aka Ryan) with bargain bin Brian (this is how Ive decided to interpret the name changes lol) and I can't remember if that was actual canon or just a theory

[formulapookie]

💛💛

Under the cut to read on Tumblr, here to read on Ao3 ch1; ch2; ch3; ch4; ch5; ch6

Les fleurs du mal ch7 rosquez, 3,2k words

The flight is not worth any kind of notice, the air inside the plane feels heavy, as if someone just put tons and tons more worth of weight on Vale’s shoulder just to keep him anchored to the floor and not let him fly away.

The hostess passes by a few times, asking if he wants anything, Vale barely acknowledges her presence, shaking his head and saying he’s ok.

It’s still half an hour to Barcelona. From there it’s less than an hour drive to Cervera.

God he’s really doing this. He’s- what the fuck is he even doing?

They won’t let him near the body, or the fucking funeral for that matter, let alone close to his grave.

But he needs to see him.

Even if it won’t be sunny, happy Marc he’ll look at, but this strange version of him.

Still in his selfishness Vale wants. He thinks he’s owed that. To see Marc. To look at what he did, because he thinks it’s a suitable way to pay for his actions.

He wants to be the one in the front row saying his last goodbye, wants to be the one carrying the casket, it should be him.

Not Lorenzo, not Dovi, not Pedrosa, not Alex.

If he could, if he only could, he would carry him into the church and from there to the graveyard all alone.

He’d cry. Beg for Marc to come back probably. But at least he’d be close.

Unbeating heart next to warm skin.

Vale doesn’t cry often, before this the last time he cried was for Marco.

God how much had he cried for him.

Uccio and his parents tried to get him out of his room for days, he refused to eat, or drink for that matter. He thought about staying locked in there until the same fate that got Sic got him too, so that they could still ride together in the clouds, like he said Marco to be doing.

Only Luca had managed to get him out, shake him from the dark and rotten place he caved himself a shelter in, and bring him back out, but it was a long and difficult task.

Marco, he. He never fully agreed to the version for which he died before. The one saying that the moment he fell and slid on the track without his helmet he was already dead.

No.

He barely agreed to the one publicly accepted, which is that Marco was there, 50/50 with a chance of never recovering and he just sped up the process.

The fact is he believed and still secretly believes to this day that he killed him. Ran him over, snapped his neck, and killed his best friend. Because maybe he would’ve survived, maybe he could’ve gotten better, maybe they’d have raced again.

For what concerns Marc there aren't even alternatives or sets of opinions about what happened, or whose fault it is, or if it could’ve ended in a different way.

He killed him.

And even if he did it unintentionally he feels like he did it on purpose. Revenge, what a sick fucking felling.

It makes you think and act in ways you didn’t think were yours.

He feels his skin itching, cutting into his muscle and he wants to tear it off, but doesn’t move in the slightest, he wants this to hurt.

Pain is a way to punish himself, though not slightly comparable to the one Marc felt, but it keeps him there, tied to reality and unable to escape the fact he hurt so many people just by being an asshole.

He thinks about the night after Sepang. It’s not a good idea.

He gets up and runs to throw up in the toilet, the alcohol and the few bites of food he’s digested are now out of his system, and he cannot think about eating anything right now.

The image of Marc standing before him, pleading and begging for a chance to be them again.

He remembers the almost-tears in the boy’s eyes, those same eyes looking at his souls trying to get a hold of it.

The image of them two makes its way in Vale’s mind.

If someone had walked in, he would’ve seen a 20 something kid getting his heart shattered, trying to pick the pieces up from the ground as Vale kicked them around, smirking with that sick fun he proved that night.

How could he treat the person who loved him the most like that? Leave him to the wolves as if it had always been like this.

Then a memory from Valencia comes up.

The one moment who revealed to him what Marc was going through.

“You like helping him uh? You sucked his dick too? Did you go to him and let him fuck you as a thank you for letting him win? Did he fuck you well Marc? I bet you enjoyed his dick so much given how you ran to me immediately after to suck me off”

“Stop it Vale please”

“Ah stop what? I’m having fun here aren’t you? Does he know how you like to be treated like the whore you are?”

Then Marc had thrown up. Those petals, horribly yellow and blue.

“I’m sorry”

But sorry doesn’t fix anything, doesn’t fix the hole in his heart shaped like a shot wound.

Sorry doesn’t bring Marc magically back and places him onto his plane, sorry doesn’t give him the chance to tell Marc he loved him still.

Sorry doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t even make him feel better. The only thing that could brighten his day is Marc’s smile.

Or a kiss from him, a hug, holding hands. An action that told Vale “I’m here, I’m here with you”

The only noise is the signal that tells him to fasten his seatbelt because they’re landing. No laugh, no “Vale you want me to hold your hand? I know you’re scared of flying”, no little yelp Marc did when they started taking off.

Vale never liked flying. Not private, not commercial. He doesn’t like lots of factors, height, pressure, danger, noise.

He hates taking off and landing most of all.

And when he’s alone he always grips the seat so fucking tight he had to replace armrests more than once. The jet company had told him he should be sure if he wants to have something so fancy he’s so scared of.

He hadn’t cared.

“Vale? Are you ok? You look a bit - a bit pale. Have you eaten? Do you want me to take you something from the bag?”

Vale shook his head, put on a reassuring smile and sat in his seat, Marc beside him smiling so much Vale though it had to hurt.

“Are you excited? For our holiday?”

Vale had gone overboard that time, something he never did for his past girlfriends, not for anyone but Marc. Marc. A shooting star that came into his life to stay.

He planned a 12 day holiday in the Philippines, just the two of them, in this apartment far from the rest of the world, where they could be just themselves without the fear of being discovered.

“I already told you amore no? Really excited, we’re gonna be in this very beautiful house surrounded by nature and near the sea for twelve days, and most importantly I get to have you all to myself for twelve days. I have already planned a few things I’d like to do once there, you know?”

Marc had blushed, looked away.

Of course he “planned” a few things as well, they were completely alone for more than a week, having sex is the most expected thing there.

And he really wants to spend at least two days straight without getting out of bed. Vale’s tension hadn’t worn down during their small chat, Marc could see how he kept on looking outside the window, and how the armrest of the seat Vale was on looked like a wild cat attacked it.

“Vale, are you nervous?” “Uh? No no I’m ok don’t worry baby” “You look strange” “No no I just am really excited about going there with you”

Marc had watched him again, until a particularly sharp noise came from the plane’s engine.

At that, Vale had shut his eyes and his mouth morphed into a thin closed line, even with his eyes closed Marc could feel the fear.

“Vale, are you scared of flying?” “No” “Amor I won’t judge you, but are you?” Vale opened his eyes, the plane was ready to take off. “Yes. I don’t like it” “Ok then uhm I can maybe hold your hand? To make you feel more secure?”

Vale also doesn’t like to ask for help, or make it obvious he needs it, but the way Marc was looking at him moved something in his chest, it made him vulnerable, but in a pleasant way. A sweet kind of it.

“Ok. Yeah yeah ok you can just-“ “Yeah I solemnly swear I will never tell Valentino Rossi wanted me to hold his hand because he’s scared of flying”

They had laughed, and Marc had brought him a kind of warmth and comfort he hadn’t felt in any other moment of his life.

Right now he’s alone. There’s an enormous emptiness beside him. An obvious lack of warmth and doe eyes looking at him with love.

Those eyes, God. How many times has he looked at them, how many times has he seen them open at the first lights of the morning in creamy white sheets they shared, how many times has he fell in love with them.

The memories are almost enough to distract him from the impending touch with the ground.

Maybe the plane will break, or crash. Save the others and leave him a carcass twisted below tons of metal sheets, unrecognizable at the sight.

Maybe this would be the right way to pay back Marc. Maybe just this could be enough. Dying of a horribly painful death, like Marc did. Alone. Cold.

The plane lands, and there’s no explosion or collision. Valentino is alive, and painfully so.

He never understood people who said they wanted to die until now. Because there’s something about thinking that it can all be over, that he can get away with it without having to face the others.

Lorenzo, Dani, Dovi.

They will be at the funeral. They will be on track. And they will know it was him.

The hostess comes up to him, tells him they’re securely landed and he can climb off the plane.

He gets up, a hoodie and a pair of du glasses on. Phone in pocket and some cash in the other.

He doesn’t need anything more, he reserved a car during the flight, it’s already there waiting for him.

He gets off the plane and in the car as fast as humanly possible, fingers tapping uncomfortably on the steering wheel, a tightening sensation in his throat.

He’s crying once again, at this point he’s surprised there’s even tears left inside him.

He stays there for ten whole minutes, then convinces himself he has to do this. He has to go.

He starts the car and gets out the airport, he doesn’t need a navigator, he knows the route by heart, him and Marc made it lots of times.

Once he’s twenty minutes away from destination he feels worse and worse about what he’s doing.

How will he even hide himself? Cervera is not a big town, and he’s not sure Marc’s family chose to have an open doors funeral.

He’s going there blindly, in the vague hope he’ll get to cast a glance at his body.

The graveyard won’t be as much of a problem, he can confuse himself with people who will want to say their goodbye. He’s sure he’ll find a way to sneak in, stay far from the family as he too mourns with them.

The town is packed, as he expected, tons of people gathered there to give their last farewell to Marc.

There’s flags,  cardboard signs, sheets, all in his honor. In the honor of the rider he was. They are mourning the icon, the sportsman he was. Not the man, the wonderful person he actually was.

And it hurts.

To them it’s an idol that died, an inspiration. To him and his family it’s a person, a brother, a son, a friend, a lover.

The square before the Church is barely noticeable, a sea of orange and red combing it whole.

Then he sees it, the side entrance Dovizioso in suing to get in. He can do it. He can get in somehow.

He squishes himself through the myriads of people waiting for Marc to come out, waiting for the men dressed in deep black to carry him out in a coffin.

But Vake knows they’ll never come out from the front door, no they’ll come out the side one, take another car with the corpse and go to the graveyard.

And he’ll find a way to follow.

He doesn’t manage to surpass the barriers tho, he has to just wait, wait until the function is over and he can follow them to the place where his love will be buried forever.

Once he notices the funeral procession, he’s the fastest he’s ever been, running back to his car and quietly following the one with Marc in it.

It feels shady, and it is, but that’s all he can do.

He parks fairly far from the spot where he knows they’ll place Marc, climbs down the car and makes the rest of the way by foot, quietly in the December freezing cold.

He’s lucky, he knows he is, he could’ve arrived too early, or too late, or be recognised and probably publicly executed.

The graveyard is gray, gloomy and unsettling. He can see Alex from this distance, and a priest reciting something.

He wants to be there.

He’s hidden behind a tree, a bit closer now, he can hear the sobs coming from the people there and the incomprehensible words said by the priest.

Alex is holding their mother, their father is just a few centimeters to the left, heavy eyes filled with tears.

Other family members gathered around the coffin crying as well.

Their colleagues stand a bit further, crying as quietly as they can, Dani especially seems broken, hiding his face in Lorenzo’s chest, while he strokes his back gently, Dovi has marks on his knuckles, red and blotchy.

He must’ve punched something at the news.

Once the person Vale supposes to be Marc’s grandmother moves out of the way he can see him.

Soft, pale and pure skin. Frozen, unable to move. Restrained in this position for eternity, It’s a sickening view, it’s unnatural for Marc to be like that.

He wants to come out of his hiding spot, under the soft and cold light of the December sun.

Walk to the coffin, say goodbye, say sorry, cry, beg for him to come back, then accept the truth.

He can’t think of leaving a flower, not with the way Marc died.

And now that he pays more attention he can see little flowers growing out of his mouth.

He’s heard of people whose ribcage got broken by roots and flowers growing out of it, and he’s glad Marc’s situation is not like that.

The unmistakably bright yellow being the only thing of his still attached to Marc.

He makes a small mistake, a little movement and Roser turns around.

He got caught.

Roser just saw him at Marc’s funeral and now he truly is doomed.

Vale begins walking away, wants to run between the graves and go back to his car. Once he’s almost out he feels a hand on his back. He stops and turns around, ready to face a blood thirsty Alex.

But he just sees Roser, eyes red and glassy.

And he feels even worse for it, feels like a fucking cancer once again. There’s hatred in her eyes, rightfully so, and anger, and so much pain. “Take the glasses off”

He doesn’t expect that, but it’s not a punch in the guts, so he takes them off. Icy blue eyes matching with the surrounding atmosphere, eyes Roser notices to be filled with so much more than she thought.

“Why are you here?”

Her English is tentative, broken, but it can transmit all her emotions well enough. Vale can’t answer, he wants to burn a hole into the ground and fucking disappear inside it.

Words are dying inside his throat, he just looks up at Marc’s mother to feel something close to that hate he has for himself.

And there is a lot of it. But there’s also - compassion?

Or at least something that is not just pure pain and anger.

“Rossi. My son loved you” “I know” “You not” “I did. I do now too. I came here to see him I - I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry”

The last part he speaks Catalan, which shocks Roser.

Valentino Rossi, the rider, the legend, the man who hurt her son so much is now crying in front of her, knees against the icy-cold soil of a graveyard, speaking her language, saying he’s sorry.

She would want to be strong enough to just leave him there. But this man is crying like a kid lost in the woods looking for someone to help him.

There’s anger in her heart, obviously, lots of it. There’s hate. But she will never not have compassion in her heart too.

The tears, the eyes, the words, they all seem genuine to her.

“estimaves el meu fill?” (did you love my son?)

“sì. no tant com es mereixia” (yes. not as much as he deserved)

“però ara ets aquí” (but you’re here now)

“ja és massa tard. ell és mort”  (now it’s too late. he’s dead)

“ell mai va deixar de pensar que hauries tornat per ell” (he never stopped thinking you would’ve come back for him)

“ho sento” (I’m sorry)

And vale just stays there, crying, but without a sound, Roser standing in front of him. And he wants her to do something, maybe call for Marc’s father, or for Alex, or the other riders.

Instead he receives pity. And a hand on his shoulder.

“Go away before they see you, if you want to speak to my boy you should go to Church, ask for forgiveness, ask for him to be well”

And then she leaves. The mother of the boy he killed leaves. Lets him go, as if he didn’t commit the most atrocious and horrible act towards Marc.

He gets up from the ground, dirt and grass staining his jeans, the cold has made its way inside his bones, under his skin, pointy, stingy. He puts the glasses back on, tears don’t stop falling when he does, the sensation of being observed doesn’t fade.

The ride back is monotone, gray, and silent. The radio doesn’t work, and if it did Vale would turn it off anyway.

He gets to a lay-by and stops, he can’t hold it anymore, he gets out the car and vomits, it's almost just bile, maybe some alcohol still, no food. The image of Marc laying like that is too much.

It accompanies him until he reaches the airport again, leaving the car where he found it, it accompanies him while he climbs on the plane and when it takes off.

It fucking follows him to the bedroom door once he's home.

[notnelle]

- if you must die, sweetheart, die knowing your life was my life's best part.

[serickswrites]

Lonely Place of Longing XVII

Master list link here (includes chapter links, summary, and character bios)

A/N: Alright friends, we have reached the end of yet another longer series. I really, really adored these characters. Like so much. So much to the point that I have completely plotted out (and started writing) the prequel as well as begun to plan a sequel! So there is a lot more Dylan, Halle, and Owen in the future!

And I hurt my own feelings with this series. So yeah, you can be mad at me. Just know that I am already suffering lol

Warnings: blood, wounds, unconsciousness, cpr, mcd, cruelty, grief, dissection mention, captivity, heartbreak

“No. NO. NO. Dylan! PLEASE! GOD NO!” Halle screamed as Dylan’s stuttering breath went out in a quiet exhale. She waited for him to take another wheezing breath. But none came. “Come on, love, come on. Breathe! You have to stay with me.” Halle slid her legs out from underneath Dylan’s body, knelt next to him, and quickly began compressions. “You can’t leave me! You can’t! I need you!”

Each word was punctuated by her pumping his chest. Her vision blurred as she sobbed. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be it. Dylan hadn’t meant any of it. He loved her. He saved her. He was dying. He couldn’t be dying.

But as Halle pumped harder and harder, longer and longer, Dylan didn’t take a breath. Didn’t gasp for air and open his eyes. He lay beneath her hands, body moving as she pumped, eyes closed, features slack. He was still except for Halle’s movement.

Something inside Halle’s chest broke. She couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t happening. She had failed him. She had failed him in so many ways. But he hadn’t failed her. She was safe. She was alive. “Please,” she sobbed as she stopped pumping his chest. “Please, come back.”

But no matter how much she begged, no matter how much she sobbed, Dylan did not come back. And so she sat, for who knew how long, with him, coated in his blood, knowing that this was all her fault. He was dead because of her. Because he loved her. Dylan was dead because of Halle.

Things became blurry after a while. People moved around her. But she didn’t care. She didn’t care that she had made a scene, had exposed her secret, trying to save Dylan. She didn’t care that the others knew how much she loved him. She didn’t care about anything because Dylan was gone.

Somehow, Halle found herself back at Tectus. She had refused to leave his side. Had refused to leave him behind. Though she realized that Thomas, that the Authority, wouldn’t have wanted his body in the wrong hands. Dylan wasn’t free, even in death, of Scutus.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to their empty room. Dried blood flaked from her finger onto the floor. He was never coming back. And she couldn’t even keep him safe after. Though she had tried.

“Do not let the body out of your sight.” Thomas had ordered Aubrey and Lysander to take Dylan’s body away. “The other weapon is a total loss. Totally completely destroyed. It will take us weeks to gather all the pieces. We need to preserve this body. Do not let it out of your sight. Do not let anything happen to it. This is our last chance to understand why this weapon is different. I will not let it ruin all that we have worked for.” Thomas glared at the stretcher. “It may have ended up wasting what it was given, wasting its life. I won’t let it be a waste now. Take it to the research lab. See what they need.”

“NO!” Halle had thrown herself at the stretcher Aubrey and Lysander carried. Someone had thrown the blanket over his face, but hadn’t bothered to be sure he was fully on the stretcher as one arm hung limply, swinging with the movement. “PLEASE!” She screamed as she took his cold hand in hers.

“Return to your quarters until either myself or Samuel summon you,” Thomas said. “We will be discussing your release of duty that Dylan bargained for. Remain in your quarters until you are summoned.”

Halle refused to move. Dylan had given so much for her. What did he give away so she could be free? What did it cost him? He would never be free, so why free her? She didn’t care. She couldn’t let them take Dylan away. She had to protect him. Had to save him of one last thing. She couldn’t let him go. She stared at the blanket, knowing what lay beneath. This wasn’t happening.

Aubrey shifted, trying to move the stretcher away from her. All Aubrey succeeded in doing was pulling the blanket off.

Dylan looked like he was sleeping, his features slack and peaceful. But as Halle fought more and more to stay, to keep his hand in her grip, more and more of the blanket slipped off until Dylan’s body was completely exposed once more. Until she could see the wounds that caused him to bleed out. Until she could see the wounds that he got trying to save her.

Dylan was dead.

Dylan was dead because of her.

Halle dropped to her knees as she began to sob once more. “I’m sorry. Please. Please, love. Please.”

“Take her to her quarters and see that she doesn’t leave,” Thomas ordered. Helena and Andrea stepped forward, ready escort Halle back to her quarters.

“NO!” She screamed as they hooked their arms underneath her arm pits. She fought with everything she had to keep from being separated from Dylan. She was never going to see him again.

“The weapon is dead. It’s useless now. Forget about it.” Helena hissed as she pulled harder on Halle.

“No! NO!” Halle wouldn’t let them talk about Dylan like that. They were all alive because of Dylan.

“You’re making a scene,” Andrea whispered in her ear. “Don’t make this any worse. You’re going to be court martialled if you don’t let go. Do you want his death to be in vain?”

She couldn’t breathe. Her chest felt full of lead. This was real. This was happening. Dylan was dead. Dylan was dead and it was her fault. This was because of her.

“They’re going to dissect the body. Do you want to see what they do to broken weapons in R & D?”

Halle felt nauseous. She was dizzy. She couldn’t see that. Couldn’t let them do that to Dylan. But as she watched Thomas glare at her, she realized she had no power. She dropped Dylan’s hand with a sob. She let Helena and Andrea escort her back. She could barely walk. Could barely breathe. Dylan was dead. Dylan was gone. Dylan died because of her. She didn’t want to be awake for any of it any longer. She flung herself onto the bed as she began to sob once more. Paper crinkled beneath her fingers.

Sweetheart. The outer flap of the envelope read. Dylan had such neat, distinctive writing, there was no mistaking it. Halle didn’t hesitate and ripped the paper from the envelope.

Sweetheart, I’m sorry I had to lie to you. I’m sorry I had to push you away. I thought it would keep you safe. I realize I was wrong now. I wish I had known it sooner. I wish I could have said all of this sooner. I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you.

Tears tracked down Halle’s cheeks. He had known. He had known that this was a suicide mission. And still he came for her. He had walked into the fire knowing he wouldn’t make it out, but that she would.

I was born over a century ago in a small country in the sea that no longer exists. I was poor. I was happy. I had a loving family. I had a life I loved. My world was small, but it was all that I knew. All that we knew. Owen and I were inseparable. Even when the war came we were always together. And when they burned our home to the ground, when the invaders had decimated and destroyed all that we knew, we still had each other.

We were taken back to the invaders’ home, Patricanus. The world was strange. So different from our own. Everything was cold, sterile. We lived in a land of greenery, of land and sea. And this was a dry, stale land. It’s since flourished into a greener place, or at least from what I’ve seen. But one hundred years ago, Patricanus was a desert waste land. And so the powers that be deemed it necessary to invade other places to learn how they cultivated the land. How they kept the land bearing life. And our home was the most fertile of all. I don’t know what they stole from us, but they stole us away, so perhaps that was part of it. I don’t know, it’s not something I ever learned the truth about.

I have never felt pain like I felt being imbued. Words don’t describe the process. My world had been destroyed and Scutus destroyed my body. Scutus destroyed Owen’s mind. There was nothing I could do. I was trapped. I was a prisoner. And I had to do as they ordered or they would destroy the one thing I had left. And so I sold my soul so that he could live. So that the one last thing of my home would remain. I sold the last part of my humanity so the inhuman bastard would live.

I regret that. I should have refused. I should have let them destroy him early. But I was young. I was naive. I thought I could change him back. Could bring him back. But all I brought was pain. I am a wretched, piteous creature, but he was even more so. Life was misery. Time passed so slowly

Until I met you. You breathed life into me after a century of no air. I felt myself coming back to life with you, Halle. You are the best part of my life. The greatest thing to happen to me. And so I wouldn’t take back one miserable moment of my wretched existence because I wouldn’t have met you.

Halle, I’m sorry I’m not here to tell you all of these things. I’m sorry I’m not here to watch you learn the truth, to give you the choice for the next part. We aren’t the only weapons, but you know that. But what you don’t know is that the Authority is the source of all weapons. They sell them to the highest bidder, keep them enslaved, keep them deep in the dark. I bargained for your freedom. You’re free, sweetheart. I only ask that you take the others with you. While I’ll never be able to take you to the sea, you can take them. Be free, Halle, and free the others.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Halle read and reread the letter a hundred times over. Patricanus was the aggressor. The Authority had destroyed a country. Had decimated a people. Had stolen them away and enslaved them. Dylan knew all of that. Knew that and didn’t tell her. Having this knowledge was dangerous. There was more than one reason they kept Dylan locked up and isolated. He was dangerous to the Authority, to Scutus, to the foundations of Patricanus. He knew too much. And he could have destroyed them all.

As Halle gathered what few belongings Dylan had left behind, she made a vow. She was leaving Tectus and so were all the other weapons. She was going to destroy Scutus and the Authority. She was going to ensure the world knew what evil lurked within. And she was going to free them all. For herself. For those that had been lost. But most of all because it was all that Dylan had wanted.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t free you. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I love you. I love you. I love you,” Halle whispered to the empty room. She was getting out of here. She was going to destroy the Authority, expose their secrets and skeletons. And she was getting all the weapons to freedom. Nothing was going to stand in her way.

Tags: @beomsstudio @mousepaw @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @eyehartart @corbytheking

@seysposts @cosmic-butterflys @wormjerky @godnessofmagic

@daddyslittlestgirlll

@thatlittlefirestarter @defire @jthecalmone @shook-skull @sagencrafts

@theforeverdyingperson @bilightningwhumper @cryptid-potato @fox-fox234 @deepfriedpan

@4-err0r-4 @half-duck @bigmiki @amberconnverse636 @penguin4473-blog

@abbyreader23 @lateuplight @firelan @octafi @paingoes

@xo7-parad0x @whumpandcomfort @kazekunai @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe @soul-of-a-local-bard

@dragonkales @kitarajy-kari @carosbee @celestialsoyeon @knightinbatteredarmor

@kay-kayxb177 @alwaysjaywalking @decayanddie @demetercabingreen-thumb @never-enough-novels

@whump-a-bear-workshop @sizzlingtigerwerewolf @urmum-11 @bleepblooppop @rattypop

@lexiebiss-blog @whumplump @geozone430 @jumpywhumpywriter @hufflepuffwritingstuff2

@anightmarishwhump @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pepeniascat

[lyraofthestarsss]

Imagine being Garroth Ro’Meave, head guard with romantic feelings for the new Lord of your village that have been slowly developing overtime, and said Lord rejects the promise ring symbolizing your love that you hid in the chest full of supplies for her journey

Now imagine being Garroth Ro’Meave being summoned to the Neapolitan Villages because your lord is in jail for being accused of a murder she didn’t commit. You go there to clear her name and when you get there you meet this orange haired twink who calls her “my love~” who she’s never mentioned before and is also there to clear her name

[xerith-42]

I just realized the reason I don't write angst around my actual favorite Shadow Knight is because he doesn't angst

According to my writing Vincent is guilty of murder, assault, vandalism, armed robbery, and cannibalism, but bro is just chill about all that.

Like yeah he did that shit what about it?

...

Can't really write compelling angst when that's his additude