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manifestingalignment · 2 years ago

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I’m back - with a Review of my Tarot Collection!✨

Hey Tumblr fellows! It’s been awhile! Last year was a pretty deep year of shadow work for me so I haven’t been around the blogging space in a little while. I also discovered the Fediverse which is where I spend most of my social media time now. It’s amazing!

This year is my 30th birthday and my hubby is gifting me a new tarot deck, so I thought it might be fun to do a review of the tarot and oracle decks I’ve collected over the past 8 years and share them with you! And perhaps you’ll discover some that you’ve never seen before to add to your own collections!

1. Age Of Aquarius Tarot by Yana LéVie

(Ordered on Etsy, will review once it arrives).

I love the aquatic feel of this deck so much. But what makes this deck really unique is it has 88 cards! It features the major and minor arcanas, and a THIRD arcana has been added to this deck called the Universal Arcana (hence, the additional cards). The guidebook also seems really beginner friendly but I'll review this deck properly once I actually have it in my possession.

2. The Starchild Tarot (Akashic Edition) by Danielle Noel

(Ordered from her website).

I purchased this one for it's art style, it was the second deck I ever owned. The images are absolutely stunning. Reading the symbolism in this deck isn't quite as intuitive as other decks and would likely be more difficult for beginners without the guidebook, but some are decent. It's truly a beautiful deck to own for those who love this art style and pastel tones. The guidebook is also fairly detailed and includes upright and reversal meanings, as well as some associations.

3. True Black Tarot by Arthur Wang

(Ordered from his website).

This deck is so polished, I've never touched cards softer than these ones, and such great quality! A lot of love went into the production of this deck, both in the card stock and the imagery. This is one of my more symbolic decks and I use this one primarily for shadow work. My only grievance with it is the way the cards are labelled. The Minor Arcana card labels are just Roman Numerals and it can be confusing to find some of the cards in the guidebook at times. Arthur Wang recently created another tarot deck I am looking to get in the future called Ephemera, which looks to be just as stunning as his True Black Tarot, except instead of a black theme they are white and gold. It's a brand new deck that just finished funding on Kickstarter and is due to be released this Spring.

4. Spirit De La Lune Oracle by Marissa Rankin and Rachael Tarantella

(Ordered from their website - 🚫 I DON’T recommend buying from them. 🚫 )

This is probably the most unique deck I own, as the cards are round, but also, it just has such a unique system and each moon phase and mandala are so beautifully detailed, both in the artwork and in the guidebook. It is a very well done deck, but I don't recommend buying from them directly unfortunately as I had a really negative experience with them in the past. I'd suggest getting this deck from a third party seller if possible if anyone wants it. I purchased a planner from them awhile after purchasing the deck because I loved the deck so much. It was very late arriving in the mail and my husband and I were in the process of moving residences. Had it arrived on time it wouldn't have been any issue, but it didn't arrive before we moved and so I reached out to the seller explaining the situation to see if anything could be done. They were really nice about it in the beginning and offered to send a replacement to our new address, but then after that message they gave me the silent treatment for weeks, they would read my messages asking for an update, but wouldn't respond. They just completely ghosted and never fulfilled the replacement as they had said they would. As a business owner myself, I felt this was handled really poorly, that if they weren't genuine about sending the replacement they shouldn't have said they would do that and then go unresponsive and not follow through. So as much as I still love and use this deck, I can't encourage others to buy it from them, because should it get lost in the mail or any other unfortunate circumstances arise, there will be no help from them and they will ghost.

5. The Constellation Tarot by Iryna/Artismymagic

(Ordered on Etsy).

This was my very first tarot deck and I absolutely love it, though, in hindsight it is really not a good deck for beginners at all. I am a very visual person and LOVE the artwork in this deck, but it is very difficult to read on an intuitive level unless you know what certain constellations mean as many are what make up the major arcana in this deck. The guidebook also is not a very detailed and not great quality. That might have changed since I purchased it years ago as she did make some updates since then. I still love this deck and use it occasionally, and have had a lovely experience with the creator Iryna. She made some updates to the packaging since I purchased it years ago and mailed me the new box to keep my cards in.

6. The Weaver Tarot (Journeyer Edition) by Threads Of Fate

(Ordered from their website).

This is such an aesthetically pleasing deck. The cards are beautiful holographic with foil and I think it is decent for it's symbolism. It comes with a reference card that is really helpful to show what different card symbols mean that they repeat throughout the deck. As much as I fell in love with the aesthetic of this deck, I never really ended up connecting with it. I didn't connect with the language within the guidebook and felt there were some inconsistencies with the symbolism. Just not a good frequency match I guess. Hoping to maybe one day trade it for a different tarot deck I want more. There’s no doubt this is a stunning deck though, and the quality is incredible!

7. Isis Oracle by Alana Fairchild

(Purchased on Amazon).

I will NEVER NOT recommend this deck! This deck is by far one of the most detailed decks I have ever owned and connect with on such a deep level. This is one of the decks I always turn to when I need loving guidance or spiritual "mom" advice. It isn't just about the artwork with this deck, but the guidebook is so incredibly detailed. The messages for each card are several pages and every card includes a ritual that connects with it and the message it brings to help you go inward with it. This is just such a special deck. This is one of those rare decks that you can just tell the creator of the deck made it from deeply spiritual place, that her spiritual process was incorporated throughout the entire process. I have never encountered that with any deck before, not like this. It feels like many of these messages were channeled. I just love this deck and can't recommend it enough.

8. Starlight Frequencies Oracle by Leah of ShopDarkMoonCrystals

(Ordered from Etsy shop).

I am so glad I got this when she first released this deck because this version of the deck is no longer in production. The creator of the deck released this version in the beginning but decided to go in a totally different direction with it, so the new version looks nothing like this one. But I really like this version better than the new one. The backgrounds have really soft color gradients with holographic accents on each of the cards. It is a very minimalistic deck, giving only minimal guidance in the guidebook, but it was intended this way as this deck was meant to be more for intuitive practice.

9. Forest Of Enchantment Tarot by Lunaea Weatherstone and Meraylah Allwood

(Ordered from Amazon)

This deck is one I had my eye on for awhile before purchasing. I fell in love with the artwork because it reminded me so much of the fairytale storybooks I used to read as a child. So much love and creativity went into this deck. The suits have a different name than traditional tarot decks, and the artwork is so detailed and has so much symbolism. You really gotta study the images in this deck as there are so many hidden details and symbols within the artwork. There are two decks in my collection that really speak to me and seem as though they really come to life, and it is this one and the Isis Oracle previously mentioned. These two decks are my main go-to decks, because they feel so kindred to me. Highly recommend the Forest of Enchantment Tarot!

10. Lucid Dreams Tarot by Britta/St.Soleil

(Purchased on Etsy, though, their Etsy shop was shut down. This deck can still be purchased from their website)

In my opinion, this is the best tarot deck for beginners out there! It has the upright and reversal meanings right on the cards, as well as the astrological symbols, zodiac and elemental keys. The guidebook is incredibly thorough as well and includes the meanings to everything on the cards, including a guide to numerology in the tarot! The artwork in this deck is heavily based on the Rider-Waite tarot, though, in my opinion the artwork in this deck is so much more appealing and just looks so elegant! I highly recommend this deck to any beginner. As for their Etsy shop being shut down, this was due to them being overwhelmed with orders a couple years ago during the holiday season. The decks were a few weeks delayed in being shipped out, which resulted in a whole bunch of people leaving negative reviews and requesting refunds in fear they wouldn't arrive in time for Christmas. People still got their decks but all the refund requests and negative reviews due to delays I think got them shut down. I still recommend purchasing from them because they are honest, they just got overwhelmed with more orders than they could handle I think for the season. The deck can be purchased from their website.

11. Archangel Oracle Cards by Doreen Virtue

(Purchased at a thrift store)

Under other circumstances I probably wouldn't have purchased this deck, but I found the Angel Card Reading Kit that still had the DVD for it inside, and it was such a cheap price I couldn't pass it up! Though it's not my particular taste, the artwork is pretty though and I have had some really amazing experiences with it. In 2020 I made a Vision Board and drew a card from this deck for the year, and the card I drew was the Writing card with Archangel Gabriel. This felt like such a divine message for me as I did go on to do a lot of meaningful writing that year and helped a lot of people through it. Ever since it has been my go-to deck for angelic messages and guidance and will remain a permanent part of my collection.

There is a bit of controversy with Doreen Virtue. A few years ago she switched he path to Christianity and discouraged the use of divination. A lot of people betrayed by her for this and got rid of decks they owned by her. Personally, her change in spirituality doesn't bother me. I understand why people feel this way about her work now, but the way I see it, everyone is on their own journey and as we grow on our path, we change. Just because she switched paths and no longer supports divination and her old work doesn't mean that what she made in the past no longer has value. I've come to love this deck, and her lifestyle change has nothing to do with me or the value this deck has brought to me on my journey. To each their own!

Thank you so much everyone for reading and I hope you guys have maybe discovered some new decks here that you've never seen before! If you have any questions, leave a comment and I'll do my best to answer!

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dashawfrostart · 9 months ago

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These Two Weeks In “Time & Again” #15: IT'S FINALLY DONE 😱 And The Logo, And The Font

I almost kinda can't believe this, but just a couple days ago, it finally happened:

I FINISHED CHAPTER 5 and shipped it to my editor-in-chef.

Wooooo-Whoooooooooo!!!!!! 🥳🥳🥳 I am so happy! It's really hard to emotionally understand that the work is finally done. That was quite an undertaking.

... Overdue by approximately 3 months. But that was just a silly time limit I set to myself before I even started working on it. Different life situations got in the way of me finishing it up faster, but, all in all, since I am fairly satisfied with the result, I don't think any complaints are justified. I am indeed happy. Now I am in the state of mental emptiness. Joking. Not really. I suppose, until my editor gets back to me with a handful of suggestions, I will simply keep drawing and I will try to finish up all the last preparations before I could justify the public release. Gotta make everything look nice and sparkly clean after all 😁

I also slowly, little by little, write materials for a bonus book that currently has a vague title "Time & Again: Collector's Edition". I believe I never revealed that plan just yet, but that's been something I've been working on on and off since the last year, I think. Or maybe even since 2022. Hopefully it's gonna be interesting to all the "Time & Again" obsessed fans in the future someday, because it will contain more WIPs and sketches. As for myself, it's just fun to use it as a sophisticated diary for how the work went.

Speaking of different editions... Earlier in this post I've mentioned my plan to release the updated versions of the previously released Chapters 1 to 4. So, the prospects of that updated release are also getting brighter and brighter; from ghostly, ephemeral concept it is actually gradually fleshing into something real, almost day by day now. And this is very good. And here's the grand reveal for you: this is what the refreshed logo for of the updated edition gonna look like:

In fact, Chapter 5 will already have this very logo, for it's gonna be the first Chapter to be ever released that came with "Notes & Commentary" section right away. And the presence/necessity of that very section is the main reason why I am updating everything in the first place.

So, when will "Time & Again: Clean Cut Edition" of the previous chapters be released?

- unfortunately, that I have yet to decide on. Cannot tell right now, but one thing that stands for certain is that it will be released only after Chapter 5 goes public. My current priority right now is the release of Chapter 5, proper and nice.

Since today's blog post already contains a fairly big and happy announcement, this might be enough of the news for now. What could possibly be as important as the fact that I finally finished up the supermassive amount of work, literally a new chapter in Lothar's story?! Probably not much!.. Well, almost.

For the last topic to cover today, I wanted to tell something else important and interesting that most people will probably not understand due to excess amount of specific terms 😅 But it matters a lot to me, so here goes.

Not long before all the work on Chapter 5 was 100% done, I finally got to look at the main font that I use in my graphic novel (Frosty's Comic Font), for it needed some perfection: I remembered that it was not displaying correctly in some cases, or rather, selected set of the symbols didn't look right, depending. ... I must admit, I am a huge fan of typefaces. I used to collect fonts for personal use back in the day, for I loved to experiment with different designs, and usually I needed them for my custom "one of a kind" greeting cards I used to make for my friends' birthdays. Good memories.

A few years back I started to learn how to make my own True Type fonts - and I bet you have already seen at least a couple of those fonts on my artworks, logos, signatures and, of course, in "Time & Again". Some of those fonts are still partially incomplete and/or unpolished and, thus, currently unused by me - until the moment in the future when I will finally have more time to fiddle with 'em, for working on fonts is not too difficult, but not particularly easy either. In this case, I mean "it's time consuming", for the process of actually drawing a font, designing letters and symbols to me is easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy. But vectorizing, perfecting the kerning in between certain pairs of letters, making sure that nothing is sticking out too much comparing to the rest... That is a bit tedious. In the end of the day however, it pays off tenfold, for you have a pretty, absolutely nice font that can be used virtually anywhere, in any software, for any purpose. I've never designed any monospace font yet... But aye, I'm being a little too nerdy again. Back on track, Frosty.

I never post my fonts anywhere to download, paid of free; I use my font solely by myself for now. And "Time & Again" was the reason why I urgently needed a new nice font with a fair touch of "me" in it... I wanted to make "Time & Again" my own as much as possible. So it was only obvious that I needed to design my own typeface for this crazy project. In 2021, I made the first relatively complete version of Frosty's Comic Font to use in "Time & Again" as the main font for the characters' speech. It contained all the basic English language glyphs and extra symbols for German language. Alas, not everything was smooth, and in Inkscape, when I used to copy-paste the lines of text on the speech bubbles, the formatting of little symbols such as apostrophe and quotation marks went down the drain, and was exchanged with the default system font (or whatever Inkscape uses when a glyph is missing). Unfortunately, that error stretched out in time (and space) up until a few days ago. I only was able to figure it out last week. By the time I managed to figure it out, the version of the font reached 1.3, and the last update also contained glyphs for Spanish language. It turned out, I did not include glyphs for all the possible variations of apostrophes and quotation marks. So I got that fixed. And now everything works like a charm. I am very proud 🙃 But the actual reason why I needed to return to designing fonts was different: I was tired of not being able to force italicize my font in Inkscape. While Krita allows for a default italic offset for a font that does not come with a premade italic version of itself, Inkscape does not do that. My manner of work is such, that I work with fonts on the pages of my graphic novel in Inkscape, for it's easier to me. But I like to sometimes accentuate certain words in the speech of the characters with italics, usually to make the readers pay extra attention to those particular words. I did not want to fiddle with workarounds (and in fact I know of no such things for my particular issue) in Inkscape, trying to combine multiple text boxes with different manual skew on the same line or whatnot, so I finally decided to make Frosty's Comic Font Italic. I generate all my fonts in FontForge. Here's what the window looks like:

I couldn't even imagine that generating an italic version out of a regular font could be done in just a couple of clicks in FontForge! 😱 So simple!

Once it was skewed, I tried to input an example text just to test it out and see what it looks like. When I'm test driving my fonts, I like to write something that uses extra symbols, such as something in German or in Spanish, because all those extra fancy letters make me happy. And once I was satisfied with it, I saved the final version (v1.4) and started using it! Here's the clear side by side comparison of what the regular version looked like versus the new italicized one:

I think it turned out rather nicely.

And now in Inkscape I can finally use different formatting of my own very font within one text box, as illustrated through a quotation from a song by U2 (these guys are my current obsession - just as in ol' good times when I was 11 🤣) on the screenshot below:

Magic!!!!!)))))

That's probably all for now.

... Okay, okay! You probably want more teasers/spoilers from the finished product, right? Here's a little funny snippet for you:

Because any urban landscape always requires fat rock pigeons staring at stuff. Some of them might even watch something while munching on popmeat popcorn.

That's all for today's great news! See you soon! 👋😎 There's more to come.

#TimeAndAgainbyDWF #This Week In Time And Again #Krita #Inkscape #typeface design #graphic novel

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laylaart · 2 years ago

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Week 3

Tuesday 7th February

Todays session began with an introduction to Semiotics and Character Design. We learned that semiotics was a 'tool for analysing how signs function symbolically in society.' . Signs can be made up of words, images, sounds, odours, flavours, acts or objects, and we are left to infer and interpret their meaning. While we were discussing signs and semiotics I couldn't help but consider the relevance to symbolism and consider the difference between symbolism and signs/ semiotics. Only that semiotics is the tool used to analyse signs and so could potentially apply also to symbolism. I think this came to mind particularly due to the fact that I've recently been introduced to so many aspects of performance that are so carefully considered and included, and whether or not they are especially symbolic/important.

We moved on through the presentation to look at semiotics in character design and costume. An example we were given was the Harry Potter character Dolores Umbridge and her intentionally increasingly hysterical. We discussed how the designer, 'Jany Temime' began with pale pink tones and gradually made the shades she wore darker and darker to mimic the growing hysterical nature of her character. These selective choices made behind the scene of performances are definitely something I'm growing more interested in during the performance lab, it's interesting to understand the finer details and decisions.

We continued to discuss costume and how it shapes and adds to the characters as well as 'supporting the narrative [to bring] characters to life'. We were introduced to a few examples in film where costume adds particular effect. My favourites that we were shown were probably a frame from Hidden Figures and La La Land. Each of these films I have seen and so can understand how the selective choices add to the story. In hidden figures we see a pop of colour in a room of plain, repetitive colours, which immediately draws your attention to that character. As well, we were shown parts from the musical La La Land. This was interesting to me because I remember specifically this film having especially outstanding colours in the costumes.

For the rest of the session we continued with our group work. Throughout the first few weeks of the performance lab we'd each been focussing on working with our objects experimentally and creating pieces of art that capture the common themes of each of our objects. Because we had also discussed types of performance art we had each mentioned that we liked poetry as a kind of performance art and so Meg bought in a few poetry anthologies for us to look through for inspiration. There was one in particular that we each liked as it was pieces of poetry alongside illustrations and relative artwork. This then sparked interest within the group to consider poetry reading as a potential point of performance for our final outcome. I began plotting ideas for poems and considered a method for making poetry that I had previously done which was creating poems from poems. This is done by 'blacking out' parts of the text and leaving certain words to eventually leave a new poem behind.

Friday 10th February

On Friday we continued with our collaborative creations. Within our groups we continued exploring our objects through experimental drawings. I did a quick observational pencil study of my object as well as completing a piece I had worked on which consisted of drawing around my teddy like a stencil repetitively and then colouring in overlapped spaces, this actually became a favourite of my pieces as it felt the most playful and had a nice repeat print look to it. We also drew/painted our objects with our objects, because I didn't want to use my teddy with ink I instead found a material with a similar texture and began painting using this fabric. This also created a nice and truly experimental piece.

In the afternoon of this session we prepared a small presentation of the work we had done so far, so that we could present our ideas to the group. We uploaded our research and mind maps from each of our object analysis, as well as the art work we had each completed in this week. We were also able to show our research into performance and our final conclusion to look further into poetry. It was a nice way to collect all our ideas and research in one place, and to talk through our ideas is something that I find always helps in solidifying the ideas we have so far come up with.

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laurelier · 3 years ago

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Harry's home remodel list: yellow checkered tiles for the kitchen, ivy plants for the bathroom...

Bc I am, as the saying goes, in a Joni hole.

And because I’m also big on titles? Like, in my own creative sensibility, which sounds just so unbearably pretentious, but whatever this is my space to be that way— I love titles. It’s like, you’ve made this thing, right, and then you’re condensing all that work you’ve done into a little phrase you could just, like. Hold in your hand. A symbol, the core of what you’ve made, or some meaningful comment on it. What an artist chooses to name a piece of art becomes the focal point upon which every theme and word and image in that work is brought to bear— I just, I love titles. And Harry’s House is such a good one— inviting us in to explore the concepts of home, housing, dwelling, what happens at home and what’s a house and— if what we’ve seen so far is any indication, what’s a body, too, what’s a self; but as others (including the Original Artist Herself, ~*love the title~~*) have noted, it’s also referential to Joni Mitchell, which hhhhh that gets me going too, references and intertexuality— of which, so far, it appears H has happily given us a not-insignificant dose, the Matrix lens being such a rich way to see the AIW video. In any case. The title. The title and the Joni track it refers to. Some thoughts on that are under the cut today, so happy H is back so I can be insufferable and long-winded again.

Some VISIONARY artwork by always wonderful personified joy @thestylinsons, imagining Harry’s House in the style of The Hissing of Summer Lawns, this is STILL SO GOOD BABE

As Harry's house was?

Although it's the only complete song of the album we have so far, I don’t quiiiiite think a really close lyrical comparison of As It Was to Harry’s House/Centerpiece is super fruitful atm. But. One idea I did have while I was making my struggle meal microwave baked potato a little while back was— so often we discuss the interplay and difference between Harry the person vs. Harry Styles™ the icon, and since those two entities have the same name, same title, if you will, we can’t really tell exactly how much of either one is being addressed when he says “Harry” in the second verse of AIW— which still makes my stomach flip every time I hear it—; “Harry” remains hazy, undefined. And, like, I think that’s really just an interesting ambiguous moment, mainly, but. “Harry” is also a character in the Joni song that shares a name with the album, and with H being such a huge Joni fan, I’m going to operate under the assumption that that reference is purposeful— which means that today I get to take my silly little magnifying glass and put Joni’s Harry right under it, bop, and add him to the list of possible Harrys in the Harry-soup of that haunting moment when he says his own name.

Harry’s House/Centerpiece itself is a nice lil bit of social commentary. The vibrant images in the first few lines show us pretty quick that we’re dealing with Joni scoffing at capitalistic excess and hollowness— one of the most common themes in her work. The song is placed near the end of one of her more experimental albums— !!! the implications!!— and it begins by following a “he” character, “Harry”, who is heading to a hotel where he’s about to do a bunch of business meetings and the like. It then follows the collapse of his marriage under the stifling requirements of gender roles— I'm not going to include the full lyrics here, but a few things I’m turning over in my brain are:

One: Adam Driver wall punch in marriage story meme

First, the fact that H chose a song about a type of gradual (heterosexual) marital discord and decline that is directly attributable to the suffocating nature of prescribed Western gender roles to associate with an album ostensibly about home and homemaking, self and selfmaking— and which, from what we can see, is likely going to be a somewhat intimate and vulnerable project. Like, holy shit. Specifically, to me, the lyrics—

A helicopter lands on the Pan Am roof Like a dragonfly on a tomb And business men in button downs Press into conference rooms

Battalions of paper-minded males Talking commodities and sales While at home their paper wives And their paper kids Paper the walls to keep their gut reactions hid

—feel particularly weighty, because— there's a way to hear AIW that's convincingly about family dynamics, wives and children, your daddy lives by himself, he just wants to know that you're well, a) of all (those lines kill me, bye) but b), man if all that about corporate grayness and battalions and dragonflies on tombs doesn’t call back to the first few frames of the mv. Harry's walking amongst a bunch of professional-looking people in muted colors, who are chatting and talking and drinking coffee—

—and he soon exits that space by beginning to walk backwards as he sings holding me back, gravity's holding me back— reversing things, doing them differently, going through a door and out of that that buttoned-up, barren environment, being pulled further into himself (?).

God I am so shitty at capturing frames on youtube my lazy ass should really just learn how to goddam gif

Then there's the "paper-minded males", what a phrase— the total flatness of them, minds only on paper, minds only existing on paper, nothing real to them, and if the paper is money, then that adds a whole other dimension, Have a Cigar anyone; if their minds are papered over, then they’re hiding from themselves. They’re not even men, either, they’re males, Males, like, all their individuality has been stripped from them and all that’s left is what is required to be a Male, their successful adherence to the requirements of Maleness is the only thing about them that matters, it’s so soulless. And their paper wives and children, playing the roles that are laid out on paper, a Male, his Wife, his Child, all of them fulfilling the rules set out in advance of the marriage contract but that can't work in reality; everyone cooperating, from childhood on, in the suppression of everything that makes them more than paper. Joni’s poetry is something the fuck else here. And as such, it’s such an exciting referential choice for H to have made— I can’t wait to put it next to the rest of the songs on his album and see what comes up.

Two: the “Centerpiece” medley

Harry’s House/Centerpiece is two songs in one, with Joni sampling a 1958 jazz standard song by Harry (lmao) Edison and Jon Hendricks, “Centerpiece”, right after the lines where Harry starts to daydream in the middle of a meeting about his wife’s body when she was young and attractive. The lyrics to that part, which is very different from the rest of the song and on which I think Joni sounds particularly beautiful, are:

The more I'm with you, pretty baby The more I feel my love increase I'm building all my dreams around you Our happiness will never cease 'Cause nothing's any good without you Baby, you're my centerpiece

We'll find a house and garden somewhere Along a country road a piece A little cottage on the outskirts Where we can really find release 'Cause nothing's any good without you Baby, you're my centerpiece

In Harry’s House/Centerpiece, the placement of this is brilliant because it calls up the naive ideas the couple, or at least the husband, had at the outset of their marriage about how the wife would be his “centerpiece”, and makes the lovey sentiment of the original song sound really sinister: Joni’s Harry is trying and has always tried to turn his wife into a decorative centerpiece to build his life around, not allowing her to be a changing, dynamic person or life partner. A beloved, treasured possession is still a flat and lifeless object. I wonder if, in any way, H is going to engage this idea of expectation and dream, of building your life upon an idea that in reality isn’t anything like what you were told it was, about the certain kind cruelty of trying to make other people fit into your dreams for them— whether someone’s doing that to you, you’re doing it to somebody else, or you’re the one doing it to yourself.

Centerpiece’s mention of a house works in both H and Joni, too— in the middle of Harry’s House (song), it sounds almost like a trap, a house and garden where the wife can stay and remain the same as she ever was for the husband to enjoy; in the context of H’s album, I wonder if the concept of a “house” will fall in step with the genuinely romantic tone of the original jazz standard, or whether he’ll take something more along the lines of Joni’s embattled, complicated notions of home and relationships, and further comment on and explore that. The dark lyrics and bright 80s beat of AIW might suggest the latter, but I guess I just gotta wait two months and see.

Three: Don’t leave Harry a vm he’ll put you in a random song

I also love that there’s an inclusion of talking voices in both songs, in AIW at the beginning and Harry’s House/Centerpiece right after the Centerpiece interlude; both are angry, but Harry’s is a little girl scolding him for not following the routine of saying good night to her (which, in the context of the song, I take as a deviation that like. Could be happening because the narrator isn’t doing so well, or is facing a lot of inner turmoil, maybe) and in Joni’s is the wife chastising the husband because her life is limited and she’s frustrated. Both are disempowered characters, in a way; a child is inherently dependent on others, and in addition to the wife being trapped and objectified in Harry’s House/Centerpiece, The Hissing of Summer Lawns (album’s title track) references a woman who’s locked in a house by a domineering husband also— which, when I consider the way we think about H and women, and how we often read H mentioning women or using women in visuals as referencing gender, well. There’s quite a bit there— maybe a more feminine, or even more childlike or girlish, self being held captive and compromised by a societally required masculine role, and the discomfort and inner turbulence that that engenders (badumtss)? Relationships readable as inner conflict, again (!!!!).

Four: I’ll tell you where you can shove that paper

Similarly, the last lines of Harry’s House/Centerpiece being “To tell him like she did today / Just what he could do with Harry's house / And Harry's take home pay” and the implication that Joni’s Harry is a financially successful senior exec or whatever, at whatever corporate BS he’s devoted his working life to, lead pretty well into Harry’s, like, atmospheric success as an artist— what’s projected onto you and expected of you at that level of visibility, the hollowing greedy Manly Man character that’s shoved onto successful men and against which Harry often directly pushes. To me, this combo feels almost like a self-admonishment: if the wife in Joni’s song is comparable in some way to an inner, more fluid and/or feminine side that the world has led H to keep cooped up doing menial tasks and homemaking, creating ~Harry’s House~, whatever that is— and that he is, as a person perceived as a Man, expected to silence, control— then I wonder if the heaviness and anger that Harry’s House/Centerpiece ends on might extend to H’s album. At the end of the song, the wife tells Harry to fuck off, and the implication is that she’s leaving him, but when I first heard the song what I really registered was the reminder that— she was always the one guiding Harry, telling him what the possibilities for their house, their home, their shared life, could be— and she’s sick of his shallow papered-over ways of seeing her and the world, she’s angry, when she leaves she's going to leave him directionless— and, well. Put next to H's upcoming album and what we know about it, that looks a bit. Difficult and transformative, to me. At the risk of sounding too much like my therapist, we often don’t nurture our inner selves near enough, what we really want, really need, and often that results in a lot of self-resentment and anger, difficulty, and disconnection from ourselves.

I just think this Harry’s House/Centerpiece reference can be seen as such a cool meditation on selfhood: like, the possible combination of self-reproach and self-liberation (here thinking of the Christine and the Queens mv for Doesn't Matter, thank you endlessly again @thestylinsons for showing me this gem). When I think of all the bitter sadness of the ending of Harry’s House/Centerpiece and compare it with the joy at the end of H’s mv and how he hugs the blue character, who I think is pretty convincingly a representation of H’s inner child or inner sentiments; and when I imagine that that blue self could be analogous in some ways to the wife, who releases herself at the end of Harry’s House/Centerpiece, abandons the construction of a restrictive husband’s house and possibly moves to create her own— I really like the direction that leads, the suggestion that Harry’s House (H album) might be an ambivalent space, both something H has designed for himself and, at times, a cage of sorts— a place where there's comfort, predictability, and homeliness, as well as the pain of brutal self-honesty and a need for constant change and growth.

Five: You know it’s not the same as it was!!!!

Because— both songs end up reflecting heavily on the idea of change: it’s not the same as it was, the decay of the couple’s marriage. They're reflective songs, both with characters reminiscing about the past and comparing it to the future: Harry’s House/Centerpiece is mostly told in present tense, then goes back in time for a moment, then ends when the wife starts to look ahead to a new life, or at least starts to take vocal issue with her current one. And in AIW, I take the middle verse, at least, to be, like, a hodgepodge of memories? It's internal but relational, H speaking to a “you” and to, I think, himself also; Harry’s House/Centerpiece is detached, observational, third person mostly, but both are so personal, and both treat themes of shifting selfhood and how that shifts relationships over time, how that shifts everything, how that’s difficult. Importantly, Harry’s House/Centerpiece does this through the wife character— and with the song having been released in 1975, by an artist who has always discussed and sung openly about women and their particular experiences under a patriarchal system— there’s a lot of energy of, like. Resisting regressive and limiting social norms in and around this song and much of Joni’s music, especially as regards gender roles— which is obviously a theme H has treated many, many times in the past, in really exciting ways.

There’s certainly more I could say about Harry’s House/Centerpiece, and we'll see if there's more when the album comes out, but I’m just. Oooooo I’m so excited for what Harry might do with this Joni source material, or at least for the cool interactions that we’ll be able to pull from the two when we’re finally let into the whole of Harry’s House. <3

#rambles #it is literally so early and i am already doing this. what happens when this thing comes out for real

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kkeidawrites · 4 years ago

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Castlevania spoilers!!!! If you don’t want to know how the show ends in season 4 please refrain from reading the rest of this post because I’m not holding back! Also I’m writing this as I watched so, this is my raw review!

Okay, so first off I want to say personally, I loved how season 4 brought heat to the finale of the show. Although I’m sad as hell that this is the last season for a great show.

Episode 1: Murder Wakes It Up- I thought that it was cool to see Trevor and Sypha fighting again after what happened in S3, obviously they are tired from the long four week journey of fighting night creatures, skeleton zombies, vampires from different countries, etc. but clearly the end game is that humans and vampires alike are working together to bring back Dracula. Like seriously, y’all might not know this but I hate, HATE when children become involved in stupid shit like human sacrifices like I can’t. Not the children. Please, not the babies. Sypha complaining she’s becoming like Trevor, and she’s so cute when she curses lol. Then when they arrive in Targoviste we have some new faces as potential enemies. I thought they were lame honestly lol I couldn’t take Barney-Larney whatever his dumbass was; he was mad annoying.

Then they shift over to Alucard…I have never seen a more broken beautiful drunk man in all my life. Like I had S3 flashbacks. He’s asked for help from a messenger who ended up dying on the way to the castle but his horse made sure he continued the journey and Alucard received the message for help in Danesti. Alucard fights with the horse, I thought that was funny. He was thoughtful enough to bury the rider, that was very sweet of him.

Also, shirtless Alucard will be engraved in my mind for life. Whew, chile that’s one fine man. He’s beginning to talk like Belmont and I can’t help how hilarious that is.

Episode 2: Having the World: Quite honestly this episode to me was meh. Hector talking with Lenore about how he needs this and that to create his hammer to continue forgemastering then Lenore talks with Carmilla and the white haired bat talks about how she is going to rule the world and what not, clearly losing her sanity.

Then it shifts over to Trevor and Sypha and they are fighting in a barn and new character Zamfir. Her character for me was also meh, but it’s nice to see more PoC in the show.

Episode 3: Walk Away: I liked this episode a lot. Issac altogether was nice enough to sit down and talk with a night creature and tell him/them that they were free of their original program, which was: eating humans, causing destruction, used as tools to forge masters. But man when he received that berry from Issac he realized that there is still some kind of humanity in them.

Issac is contacted by Varney to bring back Dracula but, Issac wants no business with that; he doing his own thing and seeing him being sassy again is so refreshing.

Morana and Striga scenes!!! I loved them, and then there was Striga’s day armor, man listen…I have never felt more closer to watching Berserk again than in that moment. They are hesitant to return back to Styria when Carmilla calls them, and it puts them in a bind to return home to continue through with Carmilla’s plans.

Sypha being annoyed by Zamfir was me the entire time. How you gone run a kingdom again with out a kingdom. Like girl, help the people instead of the royals, my god.

Episode 4: You Must Sacrifice: A cute little Trevor and Sypha scene. They decide to investigate Targoviste more before helping Zamfir. The scene shifts and Alucard is riding towards Danesti, donning a shield and a longer cape. Monsters are attacking the walls of the village, villagers are on the other side waiting to defend themselves. Some Castlevania popular screenshots appear here.

Then we meet Greta…Miss thang…that’s one beautiful woman okay. And she’s the chief of the village, cares for her people? Y’all I present. Her. And the fact that she is sassy too? I rock with her heavy as hell.

Saint Germain meets Alucard and I have a weird vibe coming from him. We see Saint Germain’s backstory or what little it will show us; he had a whole girlfriend, she a baddie too. Apparently she was like him? And she was the silhouette we saw in S3. Cool scene, inside the Infinite Corridor and I liked the library scene a lot too. Now he’s on a rampage trying to find access to the Infinite Corridor again to find his girl and he also wants to bring back Dracula? The fuck?

Refugees arrive at Danesti, and Saint Germain is acting very strange indeed. Like he’s desperate to go to the castle to help with the village “defenses”. Alucard agrees I guess? And he says another Belmont comment which I was happy to see again in the season.

Episode 5: Back in the World: Alucard leads Greta, Saint Germain and the villagers to his castle but, encounter a couple of night creatures on the way. Greta does Saint Germain y’all and I’m with her 100%. Alucard’s powers have definitely improved from last season. It was kind of interesting how Alucard willing told Greta what happened with him and you know who, kind of early in my opinion. Greta is bisexual?!!!! I love her 1000% now! I sense some chemistry between Greta and Alucard. I like that a lot.

Lenore really like annoys my soul, I do not like this mini bitch. I didn’t really care what Lenore and Hector talked about🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️sue me. Bruh Greta, beating that monster’s ass with just a hammer and a sword?! And Alucard impressed by it?! I’m here for it!! Some cute moments between Alucard and Greta got me gushing over here😝😝. Poor puppy😢😢. Alucard decides to “grow up” which I think is a nice step forward. Saint Germain is really making me mad.

They arrive at the castle and here goes Saint Germain acting like a fan boy, I mean who wouldn’t but you know…Greta killed me when she said the castle was ugly as hell lol. Another little cutesy scene between Alucard and Greta. Like I really like their chemistry y’all I’m sorry.

Trevor and Sypha demand that Zamfir take responsibility to help the people and I forgot what it was called but, before that they are attacked and Zamfir has something placed on her neck by a night creature.

Then Issac, he’s ready to fuck some shit up. And I’m here for it. Get em, bitch!

Episode 6: You Don’t Deserve My Blood: Carmilla’s castle is attacked by Issac’s night creatures. Lenore old punk ass running away does not surprise me in the slightest. Hector betrays Lenore and locks her in a cage. Hector has contact with Saint Germain like what? I don’t understand but, Issac comes in and it looks like Hector has given up, wanting to die honestly. Issac decides against killing him and Hector asks for his knife. This boy cuts his ring finger that the Lenore placed the ring, in front of her. That scene was meh, I thought he would get pissed at her for what she’s done to him in S3 but, I guess not.

Issac literally stole this episode, from his fight with the vampires and night creatures to Carmilla that shit was -chef’s kiss- magnifico! I loved the animation the fight scenes, yooo I was hyped the whole episode.

Morana and Striga make their decision to go their own way, living their own lives in the west so, bittersweet ending with them, I wanted to actually Striga fight the main trio but, whatever I guess.

Hector still has plans to bring back Dracula and asks Issac if he’s doing the same. Issac has other plans obviously, and tells Hector that they need to find their path in their lives. I feel Hector never knew where he was supposed to be placed in the world but Issacs words are very inspiring in my opinion. May have woke Hector’s dumbass up a bit.

Episode 7: The Great Work: Varney and the other guy, I really forgot his name found out about the catacombs and head there. Trevor and Sypha demand Zamfir take them underground, which to me I think it’s nothing there but her shit. Sypha gets mad at Zamfir and I’m with her, how you part of the royal guard when the people above need your help girl my god.

The cutest scene ever in this episode, was when the kids from Danesti wanting to play with Alucard and this boy jumps off the highest part of the castle just to show off. There should be more scenes of soft Alucard with children. Saint Germain is placing these weird stones it looks like in the castle walls. What is going on with him?

More Alucard and Greta moments please and thank you. The artwork in the castle is fucking phenomenal work. Saint Germain just gave the location to a vampire it looks like, from episode 4 maybe? He looks familiar.

There is a freaking army coming to the castle…lord Jesus. Like can they catch a break please? The kids just got settled.

Trevor and Sypha go to the catacombs and it’s just as bad as the people above grounds. New weapon acquired for Trevor, pretty dope. The king and Queen are dead and Zamfir is officially insane. She really thinks that the king and Queen will come back alive and protect their people like she’s done them. Sypha tries to talk to her, that puts her in a weird daze, Trevor is just being Trevor. Varney and his lackey, come to the catacombs looking to kill I really do not know that man’s name y’all so I apologize for not giving a damn about him lol.

The castle is about to be under siege, I’m not ready. Having a whole heart attack over here from nerves.

Episode 8: Death Magic: Varney and his partner attack the people in the catacombs, Varney is looking for a giant mirror? Why I don’t know. Poor Trevor and Sypha they are soooo tired, I feel so bad for them. Zamfir is actually not bad of a fighter, I like that. Sypha still the goat, no cap.

The castle is under attack, it’s actually nice to see how diverse the vampires are in this show, you can tell what countries their from and I think that’s dope as hell. And then every time a human dies their souls are transferred to Saint Germaine? So is this another S3 human sacrifice crap again? Omg…I’m so sick of that. Saint Germain uses the key he received from the woman in the Infinite Corridor and it creates the symbol of the corridor’s portal.

Here goes Alucard being a badass again, I never tire of him being one. Greta holding it down too is really cool, I don’t care what nobody say, she is that bitch. Her and that hammer, a force to be reckoned with.

Everyone is overwhelmed and have no choice but to evacuate to the castle, right before those doors closed Alucard nods to her to leave him out to fight and she looks at him like boy bye. Get yo ass in this castle. Greta pulling Alucard in just shows they are compatible for one another. Even the playful banter between them is cute.

The discovery of the stones in the walls leads Greta and Alucard to his childhood bedroom and they find Saint Germain where he reveals he’s opening the Infinite Corridor to bring back Dracula by using death magic. Petty Saint Germain, I do not like him bro.

They have to deal with him later though to fight off the night creatures that got into the castle. Greta still holding it down.

Trevor and the vampire guy is still fighting but, Trevor being so tired he’s slowing a bit, and honestly I don’t know how he’s still able to function at this point. Sypha shows off her powers like a G that she is and Zamfir is doing some great damage with the knives she’s got and that’s crazy how little knives can do to the body.

Did Sypha always have lightning powers? I don’t remember. If it’s new I love it! Trevor’s almost killed but a woman and child save him in time but, unfortunately Zamfir is stabbed in the stomach when the vampire moves to kill them both. I’m going to be honest I didn’t really care for Zamfir’s character she was just…there lol.

Then that scene with Sypha basically incinerating the rest of the monsters is fire!!! No pun intended lol. Varney finds the mirror and steps through it where Saint Germain is. Trevor and Sypha goes through the mirror as well but in a different location in the castle.

Episode 9: The Endings: This whole episode was literally the best of the best in any other seasons. The fight scenes, the banter, the main three…oh my God I loved it all. Noooooo, the dolls!!!!!! You bastards!!!! Trevor and Sypha’s entrance was perfect. Muah! Perfecto! The rock monsters really confused me on how they were killed but you know what who cares?

Alucard has wings?!!!!! What?!!!!!!!!! The general of the caravan have brought in the man woman thingy to Saint Germain. Death has appeared. His character design is dope af. Noooo not mom and dad!!! Nooo! Poor Alucard had to witness his parents literally in pain and of course Trevor ends it again, somehow Saint Germain redeemed himself almost?

The four vampires fighting the main trio had me running for my money. I liked the whole scene it was nice to see at least one or two vampires almost have the upper hand on the main trio.

That general vampire? His fight was wild, throwing his arm as it was about to explode and use it against Trevor was genius. And main trio…they don’t need to have a plan to fight they just work so well together that it works out in end.

Trevor vs. Death. Also was that the first time Trevor told Sypha he loved her? I can’t remember. Anyway, back to the final battle. The quality of the fight, the sheer power between both characters, and then he goes and sacrificed himself like Trevor are you deadass? You deadass died? Unacceptable. And then episode just ends.

Episode 10: It’s Been a Strange Ride: Lenore died so lame, and she was drunk as well when she died. I really won’t be missing her because she was just a character I very much disliked. Hector is finally free, little dumbass.

I wanna see what Issac is up to and Morana and Striga seems appropriate. But oh well, I hope they are happy wherever they are.

Tombstone for Trevor, it’s not real. He ain’t dead, I don’t believe that. Omg, Greta and Alucard are together?!!! Whoooooo!!! And the village kids are calling him father? Yasssssssssssss!!!!! I’m here for it. Alucard saying he’s not used to people is 100% me in public I don’t like being around a lot of people and it doesn’t help I have anxiety either. Sypha being pregnant was a given she looked a little thicker in the hips from episode one. She can’t leave…we need her. Really Castlevania creators? Y’all gone play with all our hearts? Thinking Trevor was dead and he gone pop up on a horse?

And look at this⤵️⤵️

He’s smiling, happy, soft, has a boo thang I’m….😭😭😭I’m so happy.

Y’all….all in all this was a great ending to the show…a great ending…

Oh wait…wait…wait wait wait, mom and dad are alive?!!! But how? You know what I don’t care their going to travel to England and their heart shaped embrace is everything. Oh no I’m crying again….

#castlevania #adrian tepes #Alucard #trevor belmont castlevania #castlevania spoilers #castlevania season 4 #issac castlevania #hector castlevania #sypha belnades

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ourplaceinthecosmosphff · 4 years ago

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Chapter 6. Meet Cute

‘You're the only person I've ever met who seems to have the faintest conception of what I mean when I say a thing.’

Virginia Woolf

Harry had a bottle of Champagne on one hand, which he’d grabbed from a waiter waiting in the hall. I had two fistfulls of my dress in mine, trying to keep up with his fast, slightly giddy pace, as we made our way towards emptier parts of the palace, passing by bored security officers on our way.

We continued playing as we did.

“Truth or dare?” I asked.

“Truth.”‌‌

“Have you ever killed anyone? Be honest.”‌ I asked, seriously, and he immediately started laughing. “Even by accident.”

“No! Have you?”

“Not yet. I’m saving my youth.‌‌ We’ll see what happens in the future.”

“If you knew you would never be caught, which crime would you commit?”

“Who’s to say I‌ would commit any crime?” He gave me a teasing look. “Fine. I‌ want to drive at a really ridiculously high speed.”

“Boring.”‌ He said, right before grabbing my hand and quickly pulling me into a hard right through big golden doors that led us into a beautiful, green drawing room. “Okay, protocol. Which really wild thing you wish you could do, but can’t because the press would never forgive you?”

“Hm.”‌ I thought on it for a while, distracted by the pretty painting near the window. “Wear a crop top.” I‌ confessed, to his amazement.

“Really?”

“You have no idea how hard it is to be a woman in this position.‌ Anything I‌ do is scrutinized a lot more than anything my brother does. So yes, there’s a lot of fashion options that are simply not open to me.”

He held open the door for me, “Okay, I’ll allow it. I would also like to see you in a crop top.”‌ He added, quickly, in a low tone. “Now, what’s the wildest thing you have done that the media doesn’t know about?”

This was trickier; I‌ looked around at the high ceilings and spotted the black, round glass fixtures at strategic positions.

“Go on, there ought to be something!”

“Oh, I‌ have an answer… I‌ just can’t answer here. Is there a room around with less, or hopefully none, cameras?”

His smile grew, as he started pacing a little more determinedly. “...I’m intrigued.”

“While we wait, truth or dare?”

He sighed. “I can’t focus now!”

“Tough. Choose.”

“Truth.”

“If you had to choose between going naked or having your thoughts appear in thought bubbles above your head for everyone to read, which would you choose?”

He grinned. “Hm, well, most people have already seen me naked, it was a pretty popular tabloid front page, not to brag, so... I suppose I would rather you didn't know the extent of what you do to my thoughts… yet.”

My first instinct was to blush, fast. He added that yet with such vigor, such promise, it was hard not to wonder, it was hard not to immediately ask what I did to his thoughts. Tell me everything, my heart begged; I want to know all the dirty details.

But something wasn’t right. The more I thought about it, the more his lighthearted, casual, overtly nonchalant tone seemed like a cover. The essence of what he was saying, after all, didn't feel like a laughing matter.

I remembered what he was talking about, albeit faintly. Something about a wild night in Vegas, an untrusted, unchecked female guest, and a nude picture snapped in secret and sold to the highest bidder.

“I'm sorry that happened to you.” I told him as he guided me into a room.

He looked at me, surprised, and shrugged. “...I should have known better.”

“Your security sure should have.”

He sighed; a small, resolute, forced smile hadn’t left his lips yet. I hadn’t thought I was able to dislike a smile on him, but I didn’t love that one.

“What can you do?”

“Still. I'm sorry.”

He nodded, looking at the carpet. I walked in, hearing the door close. Once inside, I realized this smaller than average palace room was mostly a deposit area with well organized boxes along some shelves.

I walked to the end of the room, so the lights streaming in from outside would help him see it, as I reached to the zipper on my side.

“So, what have you done?” He asked. When I looked back at him, his smile was a little more sincere. “I can’t wait to find out. I do have a few guesses-What, what are you doing?!”

I was unzipping my dress. I smiled at him and approached, sustaining his look as I‌ did. Then I turned to the side, holding the fabric to my chest, but allowing the back of my dress to fall open slightly.

“Oh.”‌ He let out, softly; almost in slow motion, automatically as it didn’t seem like he had even noticed this, his hand reached over to me.

He touched the back of his delicate, cold two fingers to the skin over my ribcage, under my right arm, where a tattoo of one tiny daisy, barely as thick as two of my fingers, laid just below my arm, a little under the direction of my breasts. I moved my bra so he could see it, green stem and white petals and all. I felt his fingers draw them out softly, agonizingly slowly, making it feel bigger than it was, making chills erupt over my entire body; something I hoped he wouldn’t be able to see.

“Any particular meaning?”‌ He wondered, whispery.

I shrugged, slightly. When I answered, it was in a tone that matched his, making the moment feel all the more fragile.

“Margueritte means daisy in French. They can symbolize innocence, purity, or new beginnings. I like the new beginnings meaning. There's also the Roman myth of Vertumnus, god of seasons and gardens, who fell for Belides, a nymph. He pursued her, who in order to escape his affections, turned herself into a daisy.”

He looked up at me, the corner of his lips curving up slightly, one brow reaching up.

“A metaphor?”

“Ha-ha.” I said, monotone, making him smile. "You know, daisies are actually two flowers combined into one. The inner part and the outer petal section, and because they blend together so well, some people also say they symbolize true love."

“I like that meaning more.”

I rolled my eyes, but my smile was sincere.

“They also mean the person who gifts them can keep a secret, so I appreciate the irony.”

“Nice.”

His touch was so delicate I was barely aware of it; it rested there for a few seconds before he seemed to shake out of a trance, and removed it quickly, coughing a timid laugh.

“Sorry.”

I shook my head, smiling. “I don’t mind.”

“I wish I could have one.” He told me, as I closed my dress again, with some difficulty.

He approached, offering me his hands with a questioning look; I nodded, and he closed my zipper smoothly, barely touching my skin again.

“How have they never seen it?”

“No crop tops, remember? And one-piece bathing suits.” I told him. “And a healthy disregard by the media for any monarchies other than yours.”

He laughed. “You don‘t know your luck.”

“Oh, I do.” I assured. “Anyway, that’s me. Wild, I know.”

“Yes, your tiny flower tattoo is very wild, Mary.”

We exchanged an amused smile.

“So, where to next?.”

He looked around, raising his hands to showcase the boxes. “What, are you not entertained?”

Laughing, we made our way out of the room and continued walking.

He walked us out of the room and through the majestic halls of Buckingham Palace we went, me always stopping by the beautiful artwork or vases to try and commit them to memory, and him always telling me I could google that later, he wanted to show me the spaces not everyone got to see, which was a pretty great pitch.

Eventually, I had to sit down in a red velvet sofa.

“You try walking through an entire palace in these shoes!” I told him when he rushed me again.

He replied by coming over, picking my shoes in one hand, and offering me the other. “I’ll carry them for you, let’s go.”

“Harry,” I started, laughing, taking his hand and reaching over for my shoes, “I’m not going to walk around Buckingham Palace barefoot!”

“Why? Everyone is across the palace in the state room.”

“Yes, but if we run into anyone, it’ll be a scandal! This is the type of thing people leak! I will bring shame to my country!”

“Dramatic.” He rolled his eyes. “But alright, how about this?” He kicked off his own dress shoes, carrying them in the same hand as mine. “Now we’re both bringing shame to our countries.”

And so we continued.

He pointed out the rooms where famous, important people had been hosted through the years, dared me to touch a fancy, expensive looking statue and when I got very close slowly, he said ‘boo!’ and I jumped three feet back. Eventually, he grandly opened the double doors that led into a wide, white room filled with gold fixtures in every crevice.

“Oh. Wow.”

The first thing I did was to walk right to the center of the room, spin around slowly trying to look at everything at once, and then carefully sit down and lay on the floor, one hand to my tiara to make sure it wouldn’t fall.

“Uhm. What are you doing? You can’t be that tired!”

“First of all, rude. You clearly have no idea how easily I get tired. And secondly,” I offered him my free hand, “come here.”

Smiling, he left our shoes on one corner of the room and approached, holding my hand with his and laying by my side carefully. “Now what?”

“Look.” I told him, looking up at the ceiling.

It was high, wide, and with white and gold in a beautiful round, geometric pattern. Even from a distance, it… gleamed.

“Oh... Huh.” He said, slowly. “I had never noticed that before. It’s… kind of nice, isn’t it?”

My only response was to smile. We allowed the silence to reign for a while, our breaths filling in the space it left out. Our hands were still clasped together lightly, but it didn’t feel weird. It felt… just right.

“Sometimes it’s really easy to forget how awful it is being royal, isn’t it?”

From the corner of my eyes, which I kept fixed above, I noticed him turn his head to watch me.

“Yes.” He replied. “It is.”

The ceiling was really just part one of the amazing things in this room; there was a marble statue of Sappho, a classic painting of Queen Alexandra, crystal chandeliers, and a 1775 french roll-top desk.

Harry was looking at me, expectantly, as I examined each little thing.

There were two mirrors on each of the side walls, another atop a fireplace, and three sets of mirror double doors.

“Why were our ancestors so obsessed with their own image? There’s a whole mirror hall at the Palace in Wolhounn, done as a replica to the one in Versailles.”

“They didn’t have TVs.” He replied, with a shrug. “Mirrors were like magic.”

He pushed open the double doors to the far end of the room and guided me through a few other magnific rooms until we were in what he called, ‘the center one’. He left our shoes in the floor, then pulled me to the center glass doors and pulled open the curtain covering it, only a tiny bit, to allow me to locate myself within the view. We were exactly in front of the mall, the front of the palace, right before the balcony where his family walked out regularly on formal occasions.

I was already impressed, but he wasn’t done. He crouched down and asked me to follow him, opening the door carefully and sneaking out on his knees. Realizing what he was doing, I followed, careful with my dress. If we stayed down, even the reporters waiting to see us leaving the palace after the dinner wouldn’t be able to spot us.

“This is usually covered when we come up here,” he told me, gesturing to the holes in the front of the balcony wall.

We sat down next to it, peaking over under the moonlight, at the view ahead. I could see the black and golden gate of Buckingham, the big fountain ahead, with Queen Victoria's monument in gold atop it. Far beyond, the mall's long, straight street, surrounded by the Hyde Park trees, and the lights of the city of London ahead.

“This is… just amazing.”

He smiled. “My mother taught me this trick.”

There are no fairytales about honest conversations. We never got Cinderella’s heartfelt conversation with the prince, explaining what she’d been through at the hands of her family; if the prince ever asked Snow White what did it feel like to die, we didn’t get to hear about it. Did Rapunzel ever get nightmares about being back in the tower? What was that therapy session like? I suppose, at the end of the day, there’s no right time to have a difficult conversation.

I don’t remember what made me decide it was now or never; was it the way the gleam of the moon and lights of the outside shone in Harry’s eyes, and only I could see it at that very moment, when the whole world had no idea we were there? All I remember in hindsight is taking in a deep breath as I watched him, and turning around to stare back at the closed glass doors, as I told him:

“We met when I was eight.”

He looked at me, confused.

“I’m sorry. I… I didn’t intend to make a thing out of it. It sort of just… happened. And now I feel bad. And I feel that if I don’t tell you now, it might be worse later. Because it’s not actually a fun story.”

His brows furrowed, betraying the worry as much as his gulp did. He nodded.

“Hm, Okay? So, you… You were eight?” He seemed to do the math in his head.

I‌ nodded. “You were twelve.”

He blinked, once. Looked back outside through the hole in the balcony wall, and then nodded as he turned around to sit next to me. “Oh.”

I held in a deep, bracing, breath for two seconds, and began, at last, to speak.

“My aunt Marilou was living in Britain at the time. Her husband is Irish-Scottish, they lived in London, so my father and I came to visit and we met them for a holiday in Scotland. It was meant to be a family trip, but my brother had the flu so my mother stayed home with him. Eventually, after we were in Scotland for a few days, he sat me down to talk.”

I ventured a look at Harry, who was still stoically looking ahead.

“My great-grandfather had passed away only a year before, and even though I was too young to fully grasp the gravity of the situation, I remembered how… somber the whole house was for the whole following month. Well, my father asked me to remember that, and then told me that a friend of his had passed away only that week. Her family was staying nearby, and he wanted to stop by to offer his condolences on our way back home. He wouldn’t normally bring me to something like this, but we were already on schedule to leave, and it just made sense. He told me to be quiet, and respectful, like when grandpa died, and dressed me in my most serious dress, a green one, and we rode into this beautiful, big stone house with ivy covering the walls.”

Harry fidgeted with his hands in his lap, and laid his head back.

“I remember now.”‌ He said. “In the garden… It was you?”

I‌ smiled, sadly. “I‌ walked over to you, and sat down beside you where you were sitting behind a stone wall nearby the fountain. You looked like… like you were hiding.”

“I‌ was.”‌ He confessed.

“I’d met her, just a couple of years before. I remember like it was yesterday. She was wearing this white flowy dress, with shoulder pads. She was just so pretty. She looked like one of my Barbies. I was completely blown away… It was a royal tour to Savoy that she did with your father, I must have been six. After she said hello to my parents, she… she lowered down and said hello to me, but I just looked down, I‌ was so shy... She brushed my hair with her hand, and said I‌ looked really pretty in my bow. My mom had tied this black ribbon around my head as a headband, and had made a bow in the top. Very nineties.”

He smiled, slightly. But it was enough to make me feel better. Slightly.

“I‌ managed to say thank you, and she asked if she could borrow it, so I‌ nodded, and she smiled. It made me feel… grown up, you know? Seen. She was just so nice… I spent the rest of the trip waiting for the right time to give her my bow, but ended up not seeing her anymore, so every time I looked at it, I thought of her. And when I‌ realized that was the friend my father was there about, in that beautiful stone house-”

“Balmoral.”‌

“Yes, Balmoral. I‌ felt heartbroken. So I found my black ribbon in my suitcase, before we got there, and kept carrying it around in my hands as my father had tea with your father and grandparents. He told me I could go see the garden if I wanted, so I did. That’s when‌‌ I found you.”

“You didn’t speak English.” He smiled.

“No, you didn’t speak French.” I returned, making his smile grow a little bigger. “But I think we got on alright.”

“I’m going to be honest,”‌ he started, “I just wanted you to leave me alone.”

“Oh, I’m sure! Now. Back then, I‌ was just happy to find another kid. You helped me sit up on the wall with you. And you asked who I was. I did understand a little bit of english, so I said I was Princess Margueritte, of course, but in French, so you just stared ahead and pretended to understand. And I said, in French, we were there about the nice Princess who’d died… and then you said your mother was dead... I understood that too.‌”

“How come I barely remember this?”‌ He wondered, more to himself than to me.

“It was a difficult time. Memories are… fragile.” He nodded.

He looked at me, eyes wide, brows still furrowed. “You gave me a ribbon.”

I‌ smiled. “‌I did. The one I had in my hand, the one your mother said I‌ looked pretty in, and asked if she could borrow.‌”

“You said it was hers.”

I‌ grimaced. “I’m sorry. I was eight. I meant, I‌ wanted to have given it to her, I didn’t mean to lie.”

“No, it’s okay. I‌ just…” He sighed, heavily, running a hand down his face. “I still have it. I‌ saved it. I‌ have it in my drawer. I‌… I don’t know how I‌ forgot about it until now, but I‌ always just kept it because it was… hers.”

“Sorry I basically lied about it.”

He smiled. “Let’s chalk it up to a mistranslation.”

I‌ nodded. “So, anyway. That’s how we met.‌ Soon after, my father’s aide came to get me and we left back home to Savoy. A few days later my parents attended the funeral.”

A few seconds went by, then a few minutes, as we breathed peacefully watching the reflection of the moon and stars on the glass of the double doors, with our backs to the street. I couldn’t know what he was thinking about, but I was thinking of the irony of all our privilege being almost relative to the unfairness that came with it. I wondered if that was what he was thinking of, and if this was weird enough for him to take his distance now.

Instead, I felt his hand reach for mine, which he held firmly, warmly, in his.

“Thank you.”

“For… for what?”

“I don’t know… For telling me.”

“…I should have just said that three days ago.‌ I’m sorry. It’s weird, isn’t it?”

He shook his head, and looked at me. “Thank you for giving me a piece of her, all those years ago, at the time when‌ I‌ needed it most. I‌ was…”‌ he shrugged, “devastated. And then I had that piece of fabric in my hand that was hers. Every day afterwards, I‌ held it in my hand, thinking of her. I still do, sometimes. And it was because of you.”

We sat there, holding hands, for a long while. Passing champagne back and forth, drinking straight from the bottle, trying to find a way back to ourselves.

“Truth or dare?” he asked, and I smiled.

“Truth.”

“Why did you and Christopher break up?”

He’d talked about something awfully personal, so I figured it was only fair I did the same.

“He… We weren’t... There just wasn’t a way to make it work.”

He looked at me with his piercing blue eyes for a long while, and I sighed, knowing deep down that wasn’t the truth.

“I’ve known him my whole life. He was my first crush, kiss… everything. We started dating officially just out of school, he also went to college in America, he’s a year older than me, so he was already there when I moved. We were only about one hour away from each other. But then he graduated and got a job in Chicago and we broke up because it was just too far away. We got back together a few months later, he got a job in New York, and we moved in together after I graduated while I did a one year internship there.”

“I didn’t realize you lived in America that long.”

“It was four years in University, Harvard offers a special degree where I could get a bachelor’s and master’s at the same time, so I graduated from Law School at the same time as undergrad.”

“Nerd.” He teased, making me laugh.

“He got an offer in Savoy, and I had to come back because, well… I’m me. But my job is in Tallmound, which is a big city about two hours away from the capital. It’s sort of the business center of Savoy. And Chris’ job was in the capital. So we went from living together to doing sort of long distance again.”

“That isn’t that far, though, right?”

“No, and I wasn’t worried. But… with our long hours, it was just… hard. Still, he was my only serious relationship for the past… eight years. My family has known him forever, they love him. And the press has known of us for that long, too. I guess they assumed as soon as we were back home, with our degrees, there was nothing stopping us from getting married. And eventually, they started… asking.”

I heard him let out a long sigh, which more than anything he could have said, let me know he understood.

“Suddenly, there was this… understanding that we were supposed to be planning on getting engaged soon. And Chris, I think, started to realize what marrying me would really mean.”

“Would he be expected to work?”

I sighed. “Yes, I think. As a spare, I’ve been allowed to have a private career so far, and I’ve been able to plan for a future career, as well. There are limitations, of course. I can’t work criminal cases, for example. So I think he would have been able to do his own thing, too, with limitations, maybe, which I told him. But, eventually, I think we would both be expected to help my family full time. And, honestly, I don’t mind. I like working, I like the royal work, and I think I’ve found a good balance, I think with some talking we could find something that worked for us. But… Well, he never gave me the chance. I guess, maybe, he didn’t think it was worth the hassle.”

There was a silent pause as my words hung in the air.

Then, he sighed. “What an idiot.”

I held down a smile for as long as I could, but then I looked at him, and we started laughing. And then we laughed so hard it was a little too loud, so we thought it was safer to crawl back inside.

I adjusted my dress; Harry put the empty bottle on a center table as I walked around the room once more, noticing the gleaming details in the matching Chinese vases by the doors, pretending I didn’t know he was watching me from afar.

“Do you-” I started, “Do you ever think of just… walking away? From all of this, I mean?”

I didn’t know why I asked, but I think maybe I wanted to know if his answer would match mine.

“Every day since my mother died.” He shrugged. “It’s sad, isn’t it? We were born into some of the most beautiful places on Earth, and all we want to do is leave.”

I smiled, not daring to look at him. Those were the words inside of me I had never dared utter.

“Wait.” He said. “So, when you got here, three days ago, and you were sexily mad at me-”

“Sexily?” I asked, in a shocked chuckle.

“Were you mad because I didn’t remember meeting you when we were kids?”

My smile froze on my lips; “Not… exactly.”

“Okay?”

Sighing, I adjusted my posture, and looked back at the vase, which was almost as tall as I was.

“So… when I was about eighteen,”

“Ten years after we met.”

“Yes, I had recently graduated from boarding school and finished my military training-”

“Your what?!”

I rolled my eyes, impatient. “Six months military training is mandatory for all the men in Savoy, and optional for the women. As members of the royal family, we are encouraged to opt in to promote our country’s military.”

“Oh. So, you… you have a uniform and stuff?”

I tried to emulate his best dirty grin, which I had grown to memorize, “Why? Are you into women in uniforms?”

He smile, wide. “I’m into you in a uniform.”

I laughed loudly. “God…”

“You asked!”

“Okay, so, moving on… I was about to move to America for University, but a friend from boarding school who is British was having a big party for her 18th birthday, so I took the train to go to her party and see my friends before moving across the Atlantic…” I turned to look at him, trying to ignore the red still in his cheeks, “Do you know a Clara Clearmont?” He seemed confused. “Big house in West Brompton-”

“As in Timothy Clearmont?”

“Yes, that’s her brother.”

“Oh! Yes, I know Tim. Well, we have friends in common.”

“Do you remember being invited to his sister’s birthday party?”

His eyes became unfocused, and then he squinted. “Yes, he would usually invite everyone, their house is huge… It was a cool, wild part- Oh.” He looked down. “Oh, I’m not going to come out well in this story, am I?”

I smiled, ignoring his question. “So, I was having a grand old time, hanging out with my friends, trying to avoid these really loud, drunk British boys who’d just arrived-”

“Oh, God…” He murmured.

“I went to the bathroom, and right before I opened the door to leave, I overheard some people just outside, talking about the birthday girl… Apparently now she was 18, Clara was, and I quote, fair game.”

“Okay-” He tried to interrupt, but I wasn’t done.

“One of the boys talking mentioned her friends from boarding school were hot too, and one of them, can you believe it, is a princess as well!”

He sighed, longingly, avoiding my eyes.

“And then a voice, now familiar to me, responded, in a slur, oh I saw that one, she has a weird face!”

“Marie…” He started, now using the exactly right pronunciation to my name.

“I opened the door, because I wasn’t about to just stand there and listen to how wrong my face was, but before I could even get past them, the same voice pointed to one of my closest friends and said, and I quote, that one I could just bury myself into all night.”

He used both his hands to cover his eyes, and brushed them up to grab two fistfulls of his hair, eyes still closed. I gave him his time.

In truth, it was hard even for me to conciliate the boy I’d heard say such ridiculous things in a drunk haze years before with the smiley, flirty guy I’d spent the last three days being increasingly charmed by. Sure, he was a flirt, but 29 year-old Harry did not come off as rude, or drunk. Especially not after tonight.

He let out a long breath. “I am so sorry.” I smiled. “Really, I am. I… I was in such a- no, no… no excuses. I’m, I’m just really sorry.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

“In my defense,” he started, and I tried to prepare for whatever came next, “I was an arse at that age.”

I laughed. “Yes, I know.”

“No, really, I was just… a dick.”

“Yes, I believe you.” I nodded still, teasingly.

“I was… I was just all over the place, I… I had no idea what I was doing… And I promise you, I soon realized just how much of a dick I was and started… trying to be better. I still am, actually. But… god, I’m sorry, Mary.”

“...I know.”

I wasn’t sure how, or if I was right at all. But I did believe him. No one was perfect at twenty-two. Particularly people who went through what he did at such a young age. Royalty screws most of us up, some more than others, and he had it particularly bad.

“Honestly, now that I say it aloud, it does feel… stupid to have held it against you all these years when I didn’t even know you.”

“I don’t know, I think you were right to.”

“Well, I guess. But still, people change. I have. I believe you have, too.”

He smiled, and let out another long breath. “God, Jane Austen would be disgusted at us.”

We laughed. “Yes, resolving the main conflict in three days with a simple, honest conversation? She’d be out of business.”

He smiled.

“Truth or dare?” I asked.

“Truth.”‌

I‌ turned to look at him, hands clasped behind my back. “Do you find a girl to flirt with on every state dinner you attend?”

He laughed, blushing. “No, actually. In fact, this is my first state dinner.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I must say, 10/10. Would definitely recommend state dinners to a friend. The company is particularly interesting.”

“Wow, how momentous. I‌ didn’t know I was witnessing history tonight. Did you also think there would be dancing like in a Disney movie ball? It’s what my sister thinks.”

He smiled, offering me his hand. “Why not? Let’s do it.”

I‌ twirled in my dress towards him, making him laugh, and took his hand with a grandiose gesture.

“This way I can tell her that there was actually dancing this time!”

“Exactly.” He nodded, pulling me close, passing an arm around my waist faster than I could understand. I wasn’t sure if I was dizzy because of the champagne, the smell of citrus on him I could smell again, or the way his blue eyes felt so invasive from up close.

“What shall we dance to?”‌ I asked, in a whisper.

He reached into his pocket, clicked away in his phone, and then returned it to his pocket. We waited as the song started, and he put a delicate, questioning hand on my waist. I was just starting to appreciate his citrus smell when a strong, beat, following a male voice started on a song that was definitely a lot more upbeat than he had intended. I knew this because his eyes widened and he hurriedly found the phone to change the song, but I‌ was already dancing to the beat, still holding on to his hand as I did, laughing at the shock in his face.

“I‌ clicked on a random playlist.” He justified. “It was supposed to be romantic songs…”

“Well, it is!”‌ I‌ returned, “It’s just a happy, romantic song!‌ Come on,‌ Harry”

The song went on to the chorus, now even dancier, ‘Now my feet don't stop movin', and my eyes won't stop lookin', and my mind won't stop racin' with the thought of you’.

He finally surrendered, and started dancing with me, moving his hips in a way no British person should be allowed to. And when the singer said, ‘If you could come one step closer, and just hold me a bit longer’, he pulled me closer in a quick, smooth motion, and passed an arm around my waist so we could dance up close; we swayed to the rhythm, twirling around to the sound of this song that was unknown to us, and the swish of my dress as we moved, ignited by champagne and starlight, and the utterly energetic feeling of being alone with each other in the very symbol of what we both wanted to escape from one way or another: a palace.

I wasn’t sure how it happened, but we were soon breathing the same air, our feet moving fast, his arm around me tight, and his breath along with mine; I joined my arms around his neck, and he laid his forehead in mine, with his eyes closed. His hand caressed my back, my hips, slowly hovering over where he knew my tattoo was as he reached higher to caress my shoulder and follow along my arm, feeling my skin with his palm as we danced; as the room felt warmer, smaller, brighter and darker all at once, as only us existed, no past, no overwhelming future, no lines of succession.

Just Harry and Mary.

And then we heard a noise at the door, and I almost tripped on my own feet stepping back from him too quickly.

“I’m sorry, so sorry, ma’am.” Joyce, my security officer, apologized as she popped her heard in. “Your party is ready to leave, only waiting on you, ma’am.”

“Yes, thank you, I’ll… I’ll be right with you!” I said, a little hoarse.

I cleared my throat when she closed the door, taking in a deep, calming breath. I was glad to see Harry was a little awkward himself. He picked up my shoes, and returned them to me with a sad smile, so I sat down in a velvet green sofa in the corner, and put them on as he did the same with his.

He held the door open for me, and we made our silent way back the same way we had come, with Joyce following a few steps behind. I wasn’t sure I was imagining it, but maybe we were walking a little closer than strictly necessary in such a wide hall, with our hands brushing against each other often, and my lower lip almost swollen at how much I was biting it to keep from smiling.

Once we were back at the gallery where guests were congregating, we tried to act normal, and not many people seemed to have noticed we were gone. But it was hard pretending I couldn’t see the almost too casual smiles on my brother’s face, matching the one in his brother’s and sister-on-law’s.

Auguste came to tell us it was time to make our formal goodbyes, so I gave Catherine a light, quick hug, wishing her the best and thanking her for the lovely three days, which she shakily returned.

“I hope we’ll be seeing you again soon.” William said, with a cheeky smile it was hard not to mimic.

Finally, I curtsied once more to the Queen, thanked her for her hospitality, and stepped back so my father and her could walk out together, as they talked.

Before I could step out of the room, however, I felt a delicate hand hold on to my elbow.

“Truth or dare?” Harry asked, in a whisper.

I looked back at my father, far enough not to hear, but walking slowly enough that I had some time.

“Dare.” I picked, looking at him with, well, hope.

He smiled. “I dare you to go on a date with me.”

I grinned at the floor, brushing one strand of my hair behind my ear.

“Next weekend. I’ll take the train to Savoy. I have a friend who’s got a place there, so I think I can make it without being seen. I can pick you up at… seven, or whenever you leave work.”

“Yes.” I said, nodding.

I think it was the ‘whenever you leave work’ that did it. The willingness to make it work, whatever it took. That’s what made me say yes.

“Okay.” He nodded, offering me his hand.

When I took it, I felt a folded piece of paper, which made my smile grow bigger as I assumed it must have been his phone number.

He raised my hand to his lips, laying a delicate kiss on my knuckles, as his eyes never left mine.

“Your Royal Highness.” He said, bowing his head.

I curtsied, “Sir.”

Then I bit down my smile, quickly hid the piece of paper in my handbag, and followed my grinning brother out of the palace; the future gleamed with possibility.

--- ---- ---

[A/N: Thank you SO MUCH for reading!!! I’d love to know your thoughts! What do you think? What can I improve? What would you like to see?? Drop a message! Thanks <3]

#phff #prince harry fanfic #prince harry fanfiction #princeharryfanfiction #princeharryfanfic #prince harry #brf #chapters #Modern Royalty AU #modern royalty fanfic #modern royalty fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #NEXT WEEK #a glimpse into Maries life in savoy #and she and harry develop an interesting texting relationship

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starring-movies · 5 years ago

Text

Killing Eve: Episode Analysis

*SPOILERS*

Season 1, Episode 4 - Sorry Baby

We start the episode at Bill’s funeral where Frank is speaking in behalf of Bill’s colleagues. Frank’s speech about Bill is particularly comfortable as Frank gets everything wrong about him, Frank says;

Bill’s colleagues “really really liked him” - there’s absolutely no sentiment in this and only says Bill’s colleagues really likes him, he doesn’t even include himself in that statement. He’s just saying the most generic things you could possibly say in a eulogy about someone you didn’t know at all.

Bill was “a very loud man” - not appropriate to say at a funeral at all really, he’s insulting him more than anything.

Bill was “a man who had time for everybody” - Eve say this isn’t correct, “no he didn’t”.

Bill “was truly a traditional man” - from Bill’s conversation with Eve about kinks, falling in love with many men and marrying his wife because he “really wanted a baby”, we know Bill was definitely not traditional

He continues to talk about Bill’s leadership and how he’d be lucky to “get a chocolate finger by lunch” because Bill “liked his biscuit Wednesdays” - again not appropriate and more of an insult than anything.

Not only does he get everything wrong but it was evident in S1E1, when Frank wasn’t invited to Bill’s birthday karaoke and Bill wanted to call Frank a “dick swab”, that they were not friends at all.

When we see Villanelle back in her apartment, she’s decorated with a big cake and balloons for Konstantin’s ‘birthday’. She did this big display to try to distract Konstantin from the fact that she had been “naughty” and gone against what he had ordered, and she did a similar thing in S1E1 when she asked him if he’d had a haircut.

The cake and balloons is also exactly what Anna said in S1E7, that Villanelle did for her after killing her husband, Max, she said “there were balloons everywhere and a huge cake and she was jumping around”. We can see that there is another parallel between these two moments; that Villanelle is pleased to have gotten rid of the person (Bill) who was standing in the way of her getting close to Eve, just as she got rid of Anna’s husband who was standing in the way of her getting closer to Anna.

We also get another example of Villanelle not just putting on a mask when shes in disguise, but her completely inhabiting whoever she’s disguising herself as. When they go into Villanelle’s bathroom to talk, Konstantin asks her “who are you?”, she says that she’s “Konstantin” but when he rips off her beard, she replies that she’s “Villanelle”. Konstantin knows he can’t speak to Villanelle properly until she’s fully out of character, which also serves to show Konstantin and Villanelle’s bond - he doesn’t just get angry with her, but instead he knows what she’s doing and goes along with the rules of her ‘game’

During Eve and Niko’s argument after Bill’s funeral about Eve being in danger at work, there’s a poster behind Niko in one of the shots. The poster seemed to be not only an odd choice of artwork for Eve and Niko’s to have in their house, but also that the poster is only in frame in one shot of Niko - right after Eve berates him saying, “I know you care. We all know you care. Sometimes I think it’s all you have”.

The artwork depicts a man inside a black bird/crow’s beak, trying to hold the bird’s beak open. This imagery seems fitting for this moment as Niko is like the man and Eve is like the bird, with Niko desperately trying to keep their life and marriage together and to not to get swallowed, but Eve ultimately ends up ‘consuming’ their marriage and crushing Niko along the way. The moment in the poster imagery though, is Niko not yet being ‘swallowed up’, as he gets by Season 3, but him still desperately trying to make their normal life work, cope with Eve’s behaviour and keep her safe.

After searching for the poster, I found that it’s a poster by the Polish artist Andrzej Pagowski for the 1985 Martin Scorsese film, ‘After Hours’. I’ve never seen the film myself but after googling it I found that the main character’s goal is just to return home despite a number of events happening through the night (just as Niko is just trying to fight for his life with Eve, despite Villanelle and all the danger she brings). The film also has a heavy theme of emasculation, which is also fitting as Eve essentially just emasculated Niko for showing his emotions of care and concern for her; where stereotypically men aren’t supposed to be vulnerable and show emotions, Eve has just insulted him for having and showing them.

When Eve goes to the butchers to meet with Carolyn, to tell Carolyn the evidence that Frank is the mole, there is a close up of a sheep statue that’s sitting outside the doorway of the shop. It’s this conversation that Eve has with Carolyn, that leads to Frank’s capture and questioning in the safe house. In this way, as soon as Eve and Carolyn have had their conversation, Frank has now become a ‘lamb for slaughter’. Eve says to Carolyn in S1E5 that Villanelle “took my phone it has the interview with Frank on it. And she’ll have the location of the safe house”. If Eve had never recorded the conversation they had with Frank at the safe house he may not have been killed as there was no proof that Frank told them anything about The Twelve and Villanelle also might not have been able to find the location of the safe house from Eve’s phone.

The sheep could also be symbolism referencing Frank being a ‘wolf in sheep’s clothing’. Since Frank is the mole, he is a wolf in sheep’s clothing as he’s been collecting information from MI5 amongst those who trust him and giving that information to The Twelve.

The symbolism could also be that Eve is the ‘lamb for slaughter’, as she’s getting deeper and deeper into her investigation and this breakthrough with Frank is what leads Eve, and subsequently Villanelle, to finding out that an organisation called The Twelve even exists.

The sausages in the butchers counter also foreshadows Frank’s death and castration, as well as when we find about Anna’s husband’s death and castration later on.

Villanelle is now working with Diego and Nadia after she was told in S1E3 that she isn’t allowed to work alone anymore and she arrives “a bit late” because she stopped to “deliver a package”, which was delivering Eve’s suitcase to Eve’s house. She asks Diego is he checked the sights on the gun, he cockily replies that he used it to shoot a politician so it works, but Villanelle was right he should have checked the sights because when she tries to shoot Frank she misses.

When Nadia chose Villanelle by shooting Diego in their three way stand off, it’s not really surprising that Nadia chose Villanelle over Diego. Diego wasn’t just incredibly annoying and condescending; but we saw that Nadia still liked Villanelle as when Villanelle grabbed Nadia’s wrists before they went into ‘Frank’s house’, Nadia touched her wrist where Villanelle had just held them and looked over to Villanelle walking towards the house.

We can also see how much more Villanelle considers Eve to be “special” than both Anna and Nadia, both people who Villanelle had been in ‘relationships’ with. Unlike Anna and Nadia, Eve isn’t nearly as easily manipulated. Anna must have been fairly easy to persuade into a relationship (considering all the letters that were sent between her and Villanelle), despite her having a husband and Villanelle almost certainly being underage at the time (and even if Villanelle wasn’t underage the relationship was certainly inappropriate as Anna was Villanelle’s teacher and much older than her). Nadia also only needed a little bit of persuasion for her to kill Diego and choose Villanelle, despite the fact that Villanelle betrayed Nadia by taking her place as the person who The Twelve was going to break out from prison. Whereas Eve doesn’t fall for any of Villanelle’s manipulation but sees straight through it, like in S1E5 when Villanelle says she’s trapped and doesn’t want to kill anymore, Eve says what Villanelle is saying is “bullshit”. Eve stabbing Villanelle in S1E8 shocked Villanelle, but Villanelle later tells Gabriel in S2E1 she did “to show how much she cared”, as if admiring what Eve did and considering it an act of love that no one else has done for her.

After Villanelle has convinced Nadia to trust her and then runs her over with the van, the camera shots visually show us Villanelle’s skill as a manipulator and ability to turn the tables on a situation. When Villanelle first meets Diego and spots Nadia in the wing-mirror of the van, it is Nadia in the front seat looking behind her to Villanelle - Nadia is in the position of power and has Diego’s protection, so Villanelle is outnumbered if she were to try and kill them. Then when Villanelle is running Nadia over with the van, we now get a shot of Villanelle from the wing-mirror - now Villanelle is in the position of power, she has turned Nadia against Diego and tricked Nadia into trusting her.

You can read my previous Killing Eve posts here:-

First Introduction to Villanelle

First Introduction to Eve

S1, E1 - Nice Face

S1, E2 - I’ll Deal With Him Later

S1, E3 - Don’t I Know You?

S1, E5 - I Have a Thing about Bathrooms

S1, E6 - Take Me To The Hole!

S1, E7 - I Don’t Want to Be Free

S1, E8 - God, I’m Tired

S2, E1 - Do You Know How to Dispose of a Body?

S2, E2 - Nice and Neat

S2, E3 - The Hungry Caterpillar

S2, E4 - Desperate Times

S2, E5 - Smell Ya Later

S2, E6 - I Hope You Like Missionary!

S2, E7 - Wide Awake

S2, E8 - You’re Mine

S3, E1 - Slowly Slowly Catchy Monkey

S3, E2 - Management Sucks

S3, E3 - Meetings Have Biscuits

S3, E4 - Still Got It

S3, E5 - Are You From Pinner? [Part 1]

S3, E5 - Are You From Pinner? [Part 2]

S3, E6 - End of Game

S3, E7 - Beautiful Monster

S3, E8 - Are You Leading or Am I? [Part 1]

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writtenbyvenus · 4 years ago

Text

What We Do In The Shadows

( Warning, this is in RP format, but has been edited and proof read for grammar/flow. A change between writers with both characters is symbolized by italics. )

Chapter 2: Entering The Wolf’s Den

Werewolves and vampires: two species that are mortal enemies. But in a small town in Upstate New York, they seemed to find a way to co-exist by staying out of each other's way and minding one's business. However, the dynamics of the local pack of werewolves and coven of vampires would change when a certain pair got too close for comfort. Alfred is an over seventy-year old werewolf posing as local law enforcement, while Ivan is a centuries old vampire working at a blood bank. Both try to get through the struggles of being immortal creatures, who find themselves in a cultural and family struggle when they fall for each other. Between an anti-vampire pack leader, suspicious in-laws, and a death that could nearly tear two families apart, the pair questions if a relationship is a reality, or if they have too much baggage they carry.

Alfred could tell he offended his baby bat. From his body language to ‘Don’t wait up’, his vampire was not pleased with being forced alone and having to wait. It seemed that the vampire had a lot of pride, they were prideful creatures after all. Being told by the wolf ‘Hang by yourself then’ must have hurt his ego, as he reached out to hang out with Ivan in the first place. Smelling the man’s disdain, once he got back into his room, he hoped that Ivan would knock on his door again. But when he didn’t he did pout. Perhaps he was too harsh on his crush. Rethinking his actions, he did wish Ivan would have knocked on his door. He would welcome the man in and enjoyed some light cuddling while he watched dragons breath fire on people. However, it seemed to be that the man was too offended by the idea. Watching the show, he got bored as he wished Ivan was next to him. Thinking for a moment, he came up with an idea to tempt Ivan into his apartment. Standing up, he didn’t bother to pause the show as he went into his room. Grabbing his pencil and sketch pad, he decided to let Ivan see his secret hobby: drawing. His love of anime and cartoons inspired him to take up drawing as a hobby. But he was very embarrassed about it, and would rarely show people his artwork. Even if it was great and matched up well with popular artists on social media, his own anxiety made it a hidden talent. He’d let very few people see his drawings, for him it was about the fun of it. He didn’t need validation for it, it was his hobby. He’d color, sketch, and draw, just for himself. Sitting back on the sofa, he decided to use a more cutesy-anime style. Drawing him and Ivan, he gave Ivan little bunny ears, and wolf ears on himself. Nicknames like ‘bunny’ and ‘ kitten’ were ones he saved for people he found cute.

It was ironic since it was the prey of wolves. He did want to eat up a cute bunny or kitten, but more in a playful manner. Ivan’s foreign accent made him think of a hot blonde he’d see at a ski resort. With the cutesy image of him and the bunny, he made sure to draw him smirking and showing off his canine teeth. Ivan didn’t look scared in the art, only giving the cocky smirk he usually gave Ivan. It was only their heads and torsos, and on the top, he wrote ‘After your sister’s leave, wanna get something to eat?’. It was Alfred’s peace offering. Getting up, he walked to Ivan’s apartment door. Instead of knocking, he simply slipped the art under his door. Ivan would come across it once he was around the area. He didn’t want to disturb the blood-sucking bunny current if he truly had plans. Going back to his room, he continued on his Game of Thrones binge, praying that the vampire would come by later. In terms of a ‘meal’, it could be anything the man wanted. They could go hunting together, Ivan finding some unsuspecting human, and Alfred a lonely deer. Or, more orthodox, actually somewhere to snack. Or just stay in his house and cook something homemade. Whatever the man had a thirst for, blood or food.

Over in his own apartment, Ivan put a sponge to his red-stained mugs, putting his strength into getting the crusted blood left to the bottom. When he turned his heel to load his dishwasher something white caught his eye. He set his dishes in the rack before scanning the floor before his door. Stepping away from the sink, he approached the mysterious note and turned his head to look down upon it. Recognizing the resemblance of his face, his cheeks flushed with red. He bent down and snatched up the paper into his hands. His heart nearly lurched from his chest and onto the freshly spotless floor. He'd have to deal with the recycled blood burning his face for a few more minutes before getting over the gesture. The strange conversation and insight earlier blended oddly with the feeling he had now. Mostly charmed, but slightly uneasy. He found it bold, not unwelcomed, but surprising from Alfred. His finger traced over the leaded indentations as he took a seat at his breakfast nook. It was beyond flattering, a style he hasn't seen before, but charming. He thought of it slightly egotistical to be set next to the man who drew it, but grateful for it. It made it easier on his eyes. Bunny ears. That was a new one for him. Bat wings were a popular addition for scriptures and etchings. He wasn't used to seeing some draw him in a kindly way. Most depictions of him resonated with evil tellings and horrifying accounts of his figure hunched over a decaying body. Town folk never were pleased when he would make an appearance in their streets. It's why moving was a must for him, he needed supplies like everyone else. Curiosity struck him as he wondered how much moving Alfred must have been up to. Being ageless caused too much suspicion. 'My, Avgustin, you don't look a day over twenty-five' were the last words he heard before leaving his old home behind. Sometimes he wishes to grow old.

The little question scribbled down beside the art was one he had to consider thoroughly. One that made his heart stop. He rattled his fingers across the surface of the table and reread the words. 'your sisters' it didn't make any sense to him, he swore up and down that he didn't whisper a word of his relations. Sighing and sliding the paper away from him, he sat quietly to calm his nerves and lay his head down on the table. He did plan on inviting his sisters over and that included sharing his haul of blood, but now all he wanted to do was head next door and talk to Alfred. The warmth clung to him like it usually did, an unbearable heat holding to his face. It would only embarrass him further to give in so easily. He pressed his face into the cool wood and closed his eyes for a moment before leaving it behind. Nothing would give him closure, he wanted to be next to Alfred and that would be the only way to get the werewolf out of his thoughts. Groaning, he began finishing up the rest of his dishes. After flicking on his dishwasher, he took the art and walked it back to his room. He was trying to wait out the lingering warmth to his face and most of it faded, but not all of it would give him that peace. Before he finally left his apartment, he messaged his sibling group that he wouldn't be home. There wasn't much his poor sisters could do if something were to go wrong, but he just didn't want them asking him to death about where he went. Hesitantly, he knocked on Alfred's door and waited. His heart didn't stop racing, he didn't find himself nervous around werewolves very often, but Alfred had that effect on him.

It was good for Alfred’s ego that he wasn’t there to witness Ivan’s reaction to the note. Seeing blushing, flattered Ivan would cause the wolf to grin, and show off his canines in the glory of knowing he charmed the vampire. It would be in Ivan’s best interest to let Alfred enjoy it if he enjoyed the ‘bunny’ persona, as Alfred would happily go with it. A cute nickname for a cute boy, not to mention, Alfred understood the niceness of not being referred to something scary. Alfred was like Ivan in that way, no one knew better than him what it was like to be personified into a godless beast, with nothing charming and cute about it. Being compared to something as harmless and pretty as a bunny was probably emotionally soothing, which was part of the reason Alfred did it. A bunny is adorable, warm, and cozy, the last thing that goes to someone’s head is fear over the animal. Ivan could be Alfred’s harmless, sweet bunny if he wanted too. Even if Alfred drew himself to be a wolf, he was still a childlike puppy in many ways, even with the slight bloodlust that he had. Minus that, he was a silly, carefree man. But the transformation did take some part of his personality and make it more intense. Alfred was lost in his marathon when he could smell Ivan walking down the hallway.

Sniffing the air, a smile popped out when he could smell the nervousness on him. Has the note made him nervous? He wasn’t sure if it was ’I’m nervous about how excited I am to see him...’ or ’I’m just scared of him’ anxiety, he couldn’t smell that. Only that the man was dealing with some emotions due to the note. He wondered if the part about his sister’s had made Ivan worried. In all honesty, it was just a bold guess on who was coming over. Alfred was aware that Ivan had siblings or at least relatives, he could smell other vampires around, and two females had a similar scent to him. He concluded that someone was either related to him, and a female. Sister’s were the most logical answer, but cousins, aunts, and other distant relatives were all possible. Alfred’s lucky guess had helped his case. Standing up, he walked to the door, offering Ivan a gentle smile as he raised a brow. “Did your plans cancel? That sucks. But, you’re welcome to come in, babe. I got a spot on the sofa for you.” He stepped back to let Ivan inside his house, the first time he’s ever done that. Inviting a vampire into your home? The biggest no-no in the world, but here was Alfred not caring, per usual. He was going to bring up how they’d dined tonight, either traditional or unorthodox, but he’d give Ivan a moment to settle in before speaking of murder and hunting. He was a gentleman after all! Sitting down on the couch, he leaned back and patted the seat next to him.

Being a man who admired his dignity more than his enjoyment, Ivan had already become irritated with his own decision. He was visiting a friend, he didn't understand why he had to make it stand out so much for himself. There wasn't any loss to giving in to spend time with someone you enjoy, but he couldn't help but consider how overly friendly the drawing was. Trying not to overthink it, he mimicked the grooves he felt and pressed them into the palm of his hand. He adored the small act, but it was overshadowed by the fact that Alfred was a suitable match against him. The fact that he actually found himself pining after the chummy little wolfman was alarming at times. He was risking many aspects of his life by even accepting the invitation to come over. If he ever got closer to Alfred, it wouldn't be logical. With the outgoing personality Alfred shined out constantly, he was sure that he couldn't be a lone wolf. There were others. He smelt them when he walked down the street or by chance in the meat section of the corner store. Werewolves, vampires, they all hid in plain sight, but it wasn't right for him to assume that all of their kind knew each other. Much like dogs though, he knew that werewolves must greet each other. Alfred had to have at least, he guaranteed himself that. It confused him to be welcomed in with that case, it scared him almost. He didn't understand why Alfred trusted him so much when he knew what he was. Unfortunately, a vampire's sense of smell isn't as powerful as a dog's thus he wasn't able to detect other bodies in the apartment. His nose was just used to Alfred passing by and in his baskets of clothes.

He wrote off the name babe quickly, trying to blame it on habit. "My plans didn't cancel. You were just acting particularly lonely so I thought I would give in and offer you some company." Teasing, he calmed down significantly at the sight of Alfred smiling patiently. Elated by the idea of finally setting foot into Alfred's humble abode with the help of some keywords, he beamed and eased his head through the doorway. He's never seen beyond the door so it was a new experience for him. It wasn't much different than his habitat, the layout was a given, but he didn't catch any deers hanging from the ceiling so it was a bonus. Ivan liked to keep his living area tidy along with his kitchen, but once someone hits his room, that's when everything starts falling apart. Never does he bother to make his bed or take out his clothes from the basket to hang them up. His nightstand, though barely a foot wide, somehow holds a lamp, three different alarm clocks, and always a few dirty dishes. A part of him wanted to head through Alfred's apartment and check out his bedroom. "When were you going to tell me that you knew how to draw?" He paced over to the sofa and took a seat away from Alfred, a cushion between the two of them so he had some space.

Alfred was pleased to have Ivan enter his house. The bunny entering the wolves den, almost. Stretching out his legs, he rested one of his arms on the headrest, eyes lingering to his shows. Ivan's excuse was cute, he didn’t even cover up with a lie about them canceling. He canceled on them for him. What about that, it added to Alfred’s ego. His eyes were careful not to linger too long, but every few moments, they’d turn to Ivan’s body as he found a quick way to verbally eat him up. “Well, thanks for giving the company. And I don’t really like talking about it since I get shy... It’s kind of a personal thing. I just draw things for myself, and no one else.” It truly was a personal hobby, but he would draw more for Ivan again if it made the man come around often. It worked the first time, so why not again? He wouldn’t mind after all. He smirked when someone was murdered on the screen. Alfred’s house proved to be on average with a clean to messy ratio. He wasn’t the cleanest guy, but he wasn’t the stereotypical dirty, living off of paper plates type of dude either. He knew how to mop, take out the trash, and vacuum, but sometimes would get lazy with dishes and let it pile up.

His habit of being sexually open also gave him a reason to keep his apartment good looking. Showing a cute boy or girl a disgusting, dirty apartment would be embarrassing. His room was surprisingly not that bad, his only problem with being lazy and letting clean clothes stay in a pile and not putting them away. He’d also never make his bed, but he’d always throw away garbage in fear of getting ants in his room. He was proud of a fox fur blanket that he had, he’d love to show Ivan. It was during a couple of days in wolf form, he hunted down several silver foxes. They are known for being used heavily in the fur trade, and lucky enough, he was able to find some living in the wild nearby. It took a few days of stalking, but he was able to hunt down enough for the blanket. Another older werewolf knew how to skin fur and make coats and blankets, and helped him with the process. It was special to him, proving his strength and hunting skills. It was also soft and luxurious; usually, he had to lie to people and say it was a gift or passed down in his family. There wasn’t much pride in saying someone gave it to him. But with Ivan, he could open up and tell how he got something worth thousands of dollars in his hands; he worked for it. The warm fur was perfect during cold winter nights in upstate New York. “I’m so lucky to have a nice friend like you. I owe you a warm meal after this...” He teased, patting Ivan’s leg before putting it back in his own lap, eyeing the TV.

"You being shy? That's a first. With the way you draw, I thought you would boast about it." Ivan was trying to compliment his host, something small, but not enough to curse himself with. In both ways, Alfred's ego was something he had to handle with caution. Cheer on the man too much and he'll be putting up with cocky smirks up until the time he had to leave. Say something a little too cruel and the bubbly wolf will turn into a babbling mess. Simply acknowledging that fact to Alfred would tear him up one way or another, Ivan knew it and planned to keep things nice and light. "You somehow captured your narcissism on a single piece of paper, it's really impressive." He made sure to sound disingenuous, eyes taking note of Alfred's position. As time went on, the show became less interesting to him. Any shock value or plot development was drowned out by the way the werewolf's face lit up. The small dust of color that humans held in their cheeks was pumping across Alfred's face. He could feel the warmth radiating off the other body. If he buried his face into Alfred's shoulder, he could get a little taste. He didn't plan on chomping down hard, just a small nip. All he needed was a drop of blood to satisfy his burning curiosity. Alfred was too smart, the vampire knew that he'd be shoved away if he even kissed his neck.

There was pride in tackling down a difficult opponent, he understood that. He had grown immune to feeling too miserable about killing some creature or human off. Animals weren't inherently evil, but humans could be. He's witnessed hundreds and hundreds of years of solid proof of how villainous a single human can be. It gave him some peace to think that he was killing off someone who deserved it, but the consequences of his actions stabbed into his thoughts when a moment was too quiet. They were all just people like him and his sisters, but he couldn't help the survival of the fittest. It was inevitable that he would kill again, he knew that his blood bank job wouldn't last forever. Eventually, he'd have to relocate again, find new prey and discover more immortals. Alfred, for now, was a dash in his timeline, but he hoped to extend it. He wanted to stay a little longer and enjoy his time with the werewolf. The thought of dining outweighed heavily on his mind, but one he was certain that what he was nearly drooling over wasn't what Alfred was implying. He could lurch over and sink his fangs into the nape of his dear friend's neck and sample the blood. "I'm lucky to have a good friend like you too... and, as friends, I'm sure you don't mind me asking how old are you- how old you really are." Returning the physical contact, he reached over and pinched at Alfred's cheek. It slightly broke his heart to be called a friend, but it was what they were and he'd rather be on Alfred's good side than be against him.

“I’m glad you like my art.” He commented, rolling his eyes as he slightly blushed from the words. He was embarrassed by the skill but loved it still. He had plans of doodling Ivan later if he had the time. Perhaps even slipping it under his door again. But it was the best of Ivan’s interest to not kiss or go near Alfred’s neck. While he did adore the vampire; he wasn’t born yesterday. Far from it, and it would win a physical push or any other action that showed dominance. The wolf inside him was an Alpha, no doubt. There would be no neck biting, kisses, or smooches unless Ivan wanted a bite back in his neck. But Alfred did accept the pinch, finding it cute that the man was finally getting to the point. After all the time they’ve been neighbors, now he wants to know some real information? He’d play, as long as Ivan played back. “My age? Well, I like to tell people I’m twenty-three. Most people buy it. I was really born in 1941 though, so I guess I look young for my age! Ha! What about you?” He turned, his eyes smiling along with his lips. Raising a brow, he looked at Ivan up and down, checking out the man. He picked up details from his encounters with Ivan and compared to it how other vampires acted. “What are you? Four? Five? Six hundred? Oh wait- Are you post or pre Catherine The Great?” He teased, knowing basic Russian history. His adulthood was during the height of the Cold War, so he knew a lot about Russia.

He was about to make a joke about if Ivan was post or pre ‘Commie-Russia’, but he didn’t want the man huffing and puffing out of his house. Ivan appeared to be the type that might be highly offended by a stereotypical ‘commie’ joke, so he wasn’t going to play his cards. He had the bunny in his den, no need to ruin it. Taking a chance, he decided to lay his head on Ivan’s outer leg. Adjusting his body, he laid on his sides as his eyes stayed on the screen, but his head was resting on top of Ivan’s thigh. He wanted a way to feel Ivan without touching her per se. His messy, blond hair was screaming to be touched, Alfred’s cheek pressing against his leg. He tried to act relaxed as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Man, sometimes I feel old but I bet you feel ancient when anyone speaks to you, huh?” He joked, appearing not to be startled by the conversation. He wondered, was Ivan’s skin soft? Could he blush? Was his fat soft? If he squeezed him, would it feel like a stone? Or skin? He never got close enough to a vampire to touch them intimately, the only times he’s had his physical contact with vampires was in wolf form, killing them in his bite. Not a great comparison to what he wanted to do to Ivan.

Ivan was thrilled to receive a blush, it always warmed his ever slow and cold heart. It made the involuntary expression even more rewarding when regarding that Alfred was a perilous creature just as he was. He felt a bit guilty for not having anything ready to give back when he came over. Drawing wasn't much of a passion for him, he was more into crafts. He could knit something for Alfred, but he wasn't sure if that would be too bold. With how high strung he wound himself up to be, he figured that the werewolf didn't fall far from the feeling around him. Anything made to comfort was suspicious as if to butter the other up. He had to be careful not to cross any lines and set alarms off in Alfred's head. Even if he wanted to drag the relationship further along and at least get to hug on Alfred without being awkward or stepping over bounds, he knew he had to be slow. It was a precaution for himself and Alfred. Hearing the werewolf's real age was a good step, not too big but not too small of a step. "Ah, so you're... in your seventies? My, I guess you really have aged well. Twenty-three does fit you more than an old man who's lived through a world war." It was better to congratulate Alfred than to compare himself to him. To be given a seemingly honest answer was a bit of a surprise to him in the first place. There were a dozen more questions he wanted to ask about the American. He's never found a werewolf civil enough to sit down and talk to; he wanted to know everything about the culture and the process. He wasn't clear on whether or not Alfred was joking or not, grimacing either way. "Do I really come off as that young? Young enough to be post Catherine the Great... That's nice to know." The home he knew wasn't quite developed enough to secure the capital and allow a ruler. "I was there before they even had tsars."

He held his tongue when Alfred cozied up onto his leg, a faint smile to his lips as his hand twitched. "I prefer the term antique... even if being born in 1174 does make me more of a relic." Propping his head upon the armrest, he inched his fingers along his thigh towards Alfred's head. He could abuse the trust, grab the werewolf, and snap his mouth around his waiting neck, but he had better control over his intrusive ideas. "How do people become... werewolves? Is it by a bite from a werewolf or maybe something more ritualistic? I assume they don't consent to it, right?" Asking along, he slowly combed his fingers through Alfred's hair. Later on, he'd have to scrub himself down to get rid of the scent before his family meets him pinching their nose. "Or should I not ask that? It might be too personal." His smile calmed as he teased the other by scratching at the area behind his ear. "I'm sure you don't mind though."

He was happy to feel Ivan’s fingers play with his neck and hair. Ivan not rejecting his touches, but accepting them was all he wanted. Yawning, he closed his eyes as he let his body relax around the man. He was even getting used to the smell, the overly sweetness not bothering him much anymore. “Wow... You are antique... I feel young compared to you, and I can remember Vietnam, Korea, the Middle East, and the Cold War.” Fighting for freedom and America was close to his heart. “My father fought in world war 2, and I entered Vietnam.” Coming back from service due to some injuries was how it happened; one day, camping with his comrades celebrating a return from service, they were attacked by a wolf. Alfred was the only one who survived, getting a deep cut on his chest. He put a silver bullet in the chest of the wolf, making it pay for taking his friend’s lives, but in the end, it’s curse never stopped. “You get bit or scratch. I got scratched, really hard. Most people die when they get bit or scratched, but I survived. I killed the wolf who attacked me and my friends. One silver bullet. That’s all it took...” Alfred whispered, his leg twitching when his ear was scratched. “How did you become a vampire...? It’s your turn to tell....” He asked, wanting to know every detail. “Did it hurt?” He asked, wondering if the transformation caused pain. It did for Alfred, becoming human to a werewolf the first time. The pain he wished he could forget. He turned his head up, looking up at Ivan with big eyes. Curious eyes that wanted the truth, not games. He pushed his body up, so more of his back and head was laying across Ivan’s lap, not just his thigh. Like a true puppy, he wanted to take all the attention and show his dominance. Laying on Ivan, and getting a pet was truly dog-like at this point. But the man could be more of a puppy than a wolf, he just had to be in the right mood. A great, calm, playful mood.

There was no heat coming off Ivan’s body, the only source of warmth was Alfred. He couldn’t feel any heat over his clothes, he guessed if it put his hands on bare skin, Ivan would be chilly. He wondered if vampires feel hard or still have a softness to them. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m just curious. Vampires, are you guys stone? Or is your fat soft? Do you guys blush?” He asked, attempting to seem innocent. Blinking a few times, his innocent expression turned into a cocky grin. “If I grabbed your ass, would you move in my hand and turn red? Or? Would it be like grabbing a rock?” He asked, knowing he’d get an eye roll from Ivan, but he didn’t care. He needed to know the answers to his weird questions. His brain wondered a lot of things about Ivan and vampires overall. While he assumed that Ivan wouldn’t let him touch him with a ten-foot pole, he still is curious if the occasional thought is accurate.

"I guess you really earned your dog tags that day." Ivan offered lightly, laughing quietly at the puppy-like mannerisms of a grown man visible unwinding over his lap. Turning into a werewolf sounded just as much of a travesty as being a vampire to him. He didn't have to imagine what waking up in a new body was like, but he didn't think that he could ever really fully understand what Alfred went through either. How he earned his status as a vampire was a shorter story, but he'd spare Alfred the details. There wasn't much special about the day when he first laid eyes on the tall lanky figure barrelling toward him, but the pain was still distinct and stabbing. If he hadn't been at death's doorstep that day, he would have put up a better fight, but being at his age back then was a time for letting the earth take you. His body was preserved in the age he died and awakened. His eldest sister landed at twenty-nine and his youngest encased himself with health by being eternally twenty. They could age at will, but never make themselves younger. In that aspect, he considers himself lucky, but being a vampire wasn't his fondest thing. The moment was still fresh on his mind, how vulnerable he was, and how he let the same fate happen to his sisters. It was embarrassing to retell his inevitable cowardice. Since then, he's become more agile and stronger, but that was mostly due to his transformation. "There's a serum that comes out only from certain fangs, but you can feel it course all over your body when they stab into your neck... It hurts about as much as someone sticking two needles into you- you don't like those, do you? That's fine." He continued to tease Alfred over the blunt lie, refusing to call him out on it. It was hard for him to give that up. "I couldn't turn you into a vampire though, I'd only end up sucking your blood because I don't have the stuff to inject you with."

The science behind being a vampire wasn't widely available, but he tried to pass on the information he learned over the years as best he could. "The original vampires are the only ones who carry the serum to turn others into vampires... I'm not sure how they came about- no one does, but them." He separated and wiggled his fingers through more sections of Alfred's hair as he explained, grinning at the way his leg jerked like a dog. It was precious to his heart. "Every millennium or so, they show their face from their tomb and bite a few more unsuspecting victims. That's what I and my sisters have gathered from different vampires at least." The facts were hazy and never written down in fear of discovery. His thoughts trailed off as he enjoyed the heat coming off Alfred when he stretched across his lap. The inquiry seemed wholesome enough at first and he didn't mind answering it until Alfred had to make it dirty. "Oh, I don't know. If I slapped you in the face, would it be soft? Would you be blushing?" He snapped sarcastically, squishing Alfred's cheeks together in turn. "We're not gargoyles! Our skin is just the same as human flesh... So, yes... I guess if you were to grab my ass, it would turn red and move, but I'm not about to give you an example." Patting his face before returning to play with his hair, Ivan furrowed his brows. He grew up in a different time, getting those sorts of comments wasn't something he was used to. "Why are you curious about that sort of thing anyway? What makes you think I'll answer any questions after that?" Frustrated, he went back to scratching behind Alfred's ear to calm himself and the warmth sprouting over him. "Make it up to me by telling me how the moon affects you.

Alfred was shocked to learn the truth about vampires. He was told that all vampires had venom that had the potential to kill. Finding out that only a few did make him relieved, vampires aren’t as dangerous as he was told before. Seeing that even other vampires were unsure how they got the venom explained why his own kind was misinformed. Not to mention, vampires never made it clear about that little fact, nor would Alfred see why they would. Most vampires would rather seem scary and dangerous, having a poison inside them looming over someone’s head. “So? If you bite someone, you don’t have any venom? You’d inject nothing? That’s crazy, everyone thinks all vampires have something in their teeth.” This didn’t mean vampires were harmless, he knew that the creatures had superhuman strength and skill just like him. If a vampire wanted a werewolf dead, it was completely possible. Alfred was biased, and always thought he had the upper hand against vampires. In his personal, werewolf opinion, they were faster and stronger than vampires. But it came to pride than anything else, Alfred would never let his kind down. Even if he thought being a werewolf was more of a curse at times, he would show honor and stand up for himself and his other pack members. They weren’t human anymore, but they were still living beings. “Werewolves, we are different I guess. In wolf form, I think our saliva and body fluids when entering someone else’s skin, can turn them. I think of it as an illness... You get exposed, you’re one of us. With bites, it’s easy to see why it gets into someone’s bloodstream. I’m less sure about scratches though, how it turns us into werewolves. I’m gonna guess there’s just something in our claws that carries the virus.”

Alfred was no scientist, and there wasn’t exactly anyone out there experimenting and explaining the biology of werewolves. He couldn’t hold back his laugh when Ivan pinched his cheeks and got annoyed with his question. He deserved all the cheek squishes! “I just wanted to make sure my wet dreams were scientifically actual, that’s all.” He teased, closing his eyes when Ivan scratched the back of his ear. “Mm....” He lightly groaned, his leg twitching slightly. “Ugh. I hate full moons, man. It doesn’t make us mindless or crazy; we just are forced into wolf form as long as the moon is out. So usually, we have to stay outside. It isn’t too bad in the summer and spring, but when it’s cold out it's kind of annoying to have to find shelter. Nowadays, I go over to my friend Allen’s house during full moons. He has basically a farm and tons of areas that we can just... chill and wait out the full moon. It’s why I left the city, it’s one thing to find somewhere to hide during the countryside, another thing we’re everyone’s running around.” Alfred viewed it as more of an inconvenience if anything. Having to plan his life around one night was annoying! Making sure he had no work, no one visiting, no one expecting him, and if anyone needed to contact him, he was M.I.A for about twelve hours. Alfred got over being horrified about his werewolf status, so more just bothered. “It’s just irritating to have to plan around full moons. But it’s just one day of the month a least....” He took a deep breath, deciding to ask Ivan a question. “Vampires, do you guys like....? Do you guys have a preference when it comes to blood? Like, do certain races taste different? Or is there a difference between boys and girls?”

"I may not be able to turn you, but I can still drain every ounce of blood out of you and leave you as a husk." He didn't like being underestimated. While he found Alfred semi charming, it was made clear to him that the werewolf was still a threat. It was only right for him to assure that he was the same, someone who shouldn't be tampered with. He didn't plan on devouring the sweet neighbor, but he's considered it. The man might just be naive enough to feel safe around a vampire. He didn't even feel comfortable around a vampire he barely knew. It came down to territory between him and a member of his kind. If there were too many vampires in the area, then suspicion rises. Too many bodies are dropping and someone isn't getting enough to drink. He's never personally killed a vampire, but he fought a great few years ago. Times have changed, most vampires have mellowed out and found alternatives to slaughtering a cognitive being. While Ivan has cooked up some solutions to give him the nutrients he needs in a blood-soaked diet, he finds the rich frothy taste of real blood to be too tantalizing. It's been a few months since he's actually stalked and killed someone; he's proud of himself for it. If his tracks are uncovered at the blood bank, he may have to come back to that lifestyle. Living life as a murderer was less glamorous than living life as a hunter. Hearing Alfred say that he could only turn people when in wolf form was a relief. He thought that at least he wasn't stumbling around accidentally making people immortal. "So you can only turn people into werewolves when you're a wolf?... I've never heard about the claws part, that's new to me." It wasn't known to him whether or not he would become a werewolf too if he was bitten, but it was most definitely a concern to him now. A werepire? A vampwolf? Whatever it was, it was conjured up disturbingly in his head. He'd keep his distance from now on if that was the case.

Rolling his eyes at the wet dreams comment, he stopped rubbing his hands through Alfred's hair. "Are all werewolves this dense and vulgar? Or is it just you?" He'd roll the big puppy off his lap if he wasn't going to end up on the floor. Angering a werewolf was something he found surprisingly easy so he kept calm and tried not to seem too upset with Alfred. He liked the company; he didn't want to lose it. "Only during full moons? So you're essentially powerless up until then." Werewolves weren't too strong if they couldn't change at will. He felt significantly less threatened by Alfred's habit of showing his teeth. It was more of a parlor trick to him now, a small way to tease him. He thought of himself as lucky to have his powers with him all the time. It meant that he could tease and frighten Alfred all he wanted until the full moon popped out. He smiled to himself, gently rubbing a thumb to the American's open neck. "We do have preferences actually. The flavor really only varies with the blood type. My least favorite type is B-negative... it's a little bitter. Ah, but my favorite blood type of all has to be O-positive... thankfully, the most common." Shutting his eyes, he leaned back onto the headrest. It was always funny to him when someone walked into the clinic asking for a blood test to be done on them when he could just tell them then and there what they were. To remain undetected, he had to take a blood sample and let the customer wait out the process. He's seen a handful of mythical beasts walk through the blood bank doors while undercover, but those were the only creatures he couldn't seem to smell around. "Usually I can sniff out someone's blood type as they stand- but I can't detect your type on you. Your... werewolf musk has been blocking me." Furrowing his brows with sorrow, he twirled a piece of Alfred's hair between his fingers. "It's made me nothing but curious to find out yours- mere curiosity, trust me. I don't bite."

Alfred wasn’t scared of the warning of getting his blood drained, as Ivan didn’t scare him. The vampire could puff out his chest and appear more frightening than he is, but Alfred stayed unfazed. He was too prideful to let a vampire put any terror into him. He scoffed when Ivan said that he was only powerful during a full moon. “Ha! Who said that I can only turn during a full moon? I said I’m forced to turn during the full moon, I can turn anytime I want the rest of the month. I could turn right now. It rips my clothes off, so I would rather not give an example.” Ivan shouldn’t feel any more relief in it, Alfred had his power all year round. “Don’t think I could turn you, though. I think our... virus is immune to you guys. Vampires aren’t alive, so it just... dies on you. We just end up killing you with our strength and fighting powers.” He explained, never hearing of a vampire and werewolf crossbred. He didn’t think it was possible, but who knew. He kept his eyes closed, enjoying getting his hair played with. A smirk crept up his face when he was accused of being vulgar. “I’m just a vulgar guy, that’s all. I say what I think.” That was true as well, Alfred didn’t have much of a filter, especially around other immortals. He was a man who laughed and cried easily, who displayed all the emotions he had in his heart. It was just who he was, and he didn’t want to change anytime soon. He offered a cute act of nuzzling his cheek on Ivan’s thigh, wanting his attention again. Getting his hair played with was a major comfort. His body would relax, and calm down when someone’s fingers ran through his dirty blond locks. There was something about Ivan that offered him comfort, even if he was a vampire. His disgustingly sweet scent wasn’t bothering him anymore, and his soft voice was more soothing by the moment.

He smirks again when he hears about the blood type. “Oh? Then you’d love me. I’m O-positive.” He confessed, not scared since he knew Ivan wouldn’t bite him. If Ivan was going to drain him of his blood, he would have done it by now. Ivan didn’t need to cuddle up with him on his sofa to do it. “I’m glad my werewolf musk blocks it. Protects us from being victims of hungry, thirsty vampires like you. I’m not shocked at all that you work at a blood bank. I’m just surprised that you haven't noticed that you are stealing all the blood. How do you steal it anyway? Don’t they have protocols and stuff for this?” He questioned, always wondering how Ivan did it. He was either extremely talented, or the office was just stupid and lazy with their security. Who knew a man could get away with stealing countless pints of blood, but it was better than him going into town and murdering men in cold blood. “I’ll be honest... if you need some victims, I got a list of every sex offender, pedophile, and creep in town. Some people escape justice. So if you are hungry.... just tell me. I’ll get you a meal.” He had a sneaky grin, loving the idea of Ivan doing his dirty work. Instead of hunting these sickos in wolf form, his blood-sucking bunny could find a use for them.

It shut Ivan's small victory down when he heard about the ability. The possibility of seeing wolves walk around during the day skyrocketed and he wasn't sure where his emotions landed on the issue. Everything about having the upper hand over someone was comforting to him, but he felt as if it wasn't that overwhelming. Alfred was harmless and most of his worries about werewolves came from prejudice. The only rivalry between the two creatures was one he welcomed. He had fun flirting with and teasing Alfred, but he didn't want to risk being too attached. If something were to come up that jeopardized his facade, then he'd have to book it out of New York with his sisters not far behind. Knowing Alfred's own immortality, he was sure the situation would be the same for him. He'd end up miserable if he grew even fonder of the man only to disappear the next day. Anyone else, he didn't care to shatter their heart, but the cute playful furball was just too hopeless. "You talk like a child telling me about how strong their favorite superhero is when you describe your own species." He humored, rolling his eyes at the nonchalant bragging. There wasn't much that annoyed him about Alfred, the man was pleasant to be around, but he had his own honor to attend to. Being a blood seeker wasn't glamorous by all means, but he had to defend what was a part of him. The relief felt from immunity still didn't suffice against the show off's insistence. Every step of the conversation was an act for him to prove that he could stand up against a werewolf; the worn-out joke tired him. He wanted to feel comfortable around Alfred, but nothing felt genuine as if he was waiting for something specific to come out. It reminded him of a patient puppy. Most stereotypes held about the bouncing, yapping few. Like dogs, they roll onto their back and practically beg to be pet, loved on at the very least.

Giving in before the manchild started whining, he scrubbed his fingers along Alfred's scalp and through his strands. His eyes lit up at the confession, a big grin attached to his face. "Oh really? It's the most common blood type... but the most special to me. The rarity of it is only measured by my own longing for it." He wormed the corners of his mouth slowly down to mask his eagerness to jump on Alfred and dine out. "It's a very sweet taste- you should let me lap up any cuts you have in the future. I'll come over in a heartbeat and suck your wounds dry." The talk of blood left him parched, he distracted himself by fluffing up Alfred's hair. He wasn't entirely sure how his blood stash was known by the mutt, but he wasn't about to question it. His trust was growing high enough that he didn't care. "Most people don't know a pint from a pint and a half... it's a little dangerous for the donors, but I do sneak out an extra snack for myself when I think someone's gullible- so, I'm technically not stealing from the blood bank because they still get their pint of blood... I just drain another pint for myself. " He assured, hoping Alfred wouldn't rat him out. It would slip his mind often that the man was a cop. The only reason staff picked up on his master plan was the high rate of lightheaded donors coming out of his section. Now and then, they sent someone to check the equipment he was using, but nothing came of it. He's slowed on the packs he takes home to cool down the heat trailing behind his tail. "I might take you up on that offer someday, but my hands haven't been this clean of blood in a while... Unless you're in dire need of my assistance then I can help mark off some names for you- at a price, of course." Leaning down, he placed a chaste kiss to Alfred's forehead and gently brushed back the hair in his way. "Come over to the blood bank and I'll give you a donut if you behave... then maybe we can go track down some pedophiles and rip them apart together."

Alfred didn’t have too many plans for leaving the town soon. He only had lived there for a few years, and he knew he could get away with his non-aging status for a while. People usually only would start to talk about how young he looked. Alfred would just lie and credit on genetics. ’My parents look super young too. ‘Our whole family doesn’t age.’ he’d lie, and it worked. He looked young and was young to everyone else, so no one questioned his age. He guessed he could last until he was in his mid-thirties before people thought it was just downright weird that he hadn't aged. It was why he attempted to stay out of the spotlight. Keep to himself a few groups of friends. It was hard, he was an extrovert. He is a popular personality, everyone would know who he was and wanted to be around him. But that changed when his mortality did, and unless he wanted to become a scientific experiment for the government, he had to keep a low profile. But he always came out at night, hitting clubs and finding relief in intimacy. If he couldn’t be surrounded by dozens of friends, he’d surround himself with pretty girls and boys, even if it was just one night. A sucker for love, it was even more troubling knowing he couldn’t get into a relationship with anyone. That was the hardest about this life, knowing he’ll always be alone. Almost everyone in his pack was male and straight. How come there were only a few queer werewolves? He was aware that he should branch out to new immortals, but it was difficult since his pack was so tight. There was a sense of betrayal being around other werewolf packs, it was frowned down. Your pack was your family, case closed. You suffered with them.

[ Here is the link to my Ao3, thank you if you read it <3 ]

#rusame #amerus #aph russia #aph america #fanfic #I've just decided to keep it in its OG format #but i still edit for flow #yeee everyone have a good night

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cottonwoolsocks · 5 years ago

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Nobody Knows You Now (When You're Dying In LA)

AO3 | Masterlist

title from ‘Dying in LA’ by Panic! At The Disco

Summary: He had to prove he was worth their time. He had to prove he was worth something. He had to pay for the love that they gave, atone for their adoration, because if he stopped providing, they would stop giving, and he would be left alone and worthless and unnecessary and he wouldn’t, couldn't, can’t have that.

He had to prove he was worthy.

Word Count: 1644 Genre: angst, canonverse Characters: Roman, others mentioned Relationships: none

Warnings: slight/ambiguous u!Patton and other Sides (excepting Roman)

If I need to tag anything else, let me know!

———

An actor’s most cherished talent is their ability to reinvent themselves, donning any number of masks to hide their true face and instead portray that of another.

Roman was…exceptionally practiced at this particular skill.

From the moment he had first laid foot in the home of the Light Sides, he had been built up, celebrated; honoured as brave, courageous, noble. He stood tall and mighty, aware of his importance, aware of how much they loved him and how utterly indispensable he was—not only to Thomas, but to the other Sides, as well. He was strong, valuable, fearless, and enjoyed living up to these expectations, always meeting or exceeding them and never slowing down, because why should he? He was bold. He was powerful. He was unbreakable.

He was the Good Creativity. He was important. He had work to do, and challenges to face.

Innovation poured from his pen in great torrents, song after video after sketch, building Thomas up, building the others up, encouraging them all to meet and exceed their potential, to always take the extra step, make the extra leap forward to greatness and significance.

Roman became a symbol for more than just Creativity.

Courage. Success. Confidence. All things he now represented, titles to nurture and crowns to bear proudly. He was not ashamed of his achievements. And he was excited, ever so excited for each new day, each new challenge to face, each new obstacle to overcome.

He was the Good Creativity. He was a standard that had to be upheld.

See, the trouble with such an unwavering incline in achievements and innovation is that eventually it must slow down. Humans are, after all, not like machines or characters in a play, and need to take time to breathe, rest, reset. Creativity is not a limitless tap—but it does recharge, with time.

Roman found this incredibly frustrating.

Success, he argued, was not something you could simply wait to acquire. Success required a devoted, steadfast stream of accomplishments, effort, determination—because the moment you let up, the second you break character, those around you will dig their heels into your shoulders in order to elevate themselves. Success is a matter of how far and how fast you are willing to climb, and what you are willing to do to reach it.

Dreams unfold upon the ashes of dreams.

Roman’s work was never done. Script after script. Song after song. He churned out creations, works to display, musings to share with the world. Always improved. Each better than the last. Always refining, never slowing, because if he hesitated for even a second then those in his dust would catch up to him and he would be left behind, not good enough, never good enough.

He had to prove he was better.

What the others thought of his brother was no secret. His brother was Dark, his brother was evil, his brother was not wanted. They had no use or desire for him.

And what made Roman any different?

Your goodness, Patton would say. You create nice things. Remus creates horrible things.

But where, Roman couldn’t help but wonder, was the line? What separated ‘good’ from ‘evil’, ‘light’ from ‘dark’? Surely it was but a matter of preference, of opinion, of what the individual had learned throughout their life to be accepted or admonished?

That was, ultimately, the reason the Split had occurred in the first place.

Creativity had been torn into two entities, Roman and Remus, Remus and Roman, ‘good’ and ‘evil’.

And evil was not wanted. That much was clear, had been made clear from the very moment Roman had first grappled his way into existence. Evil lost friends. Evil lost acceptance. Evil meant nobody would listen to you, because you only caused hurt, pain, fear. ‘Evil’ was every villain of every show he had ever seen, always the losing side, never the happy ending.

And Roman was not evil. He made sure of that, tried so hard to make sure of that.

After all, could someone truly evil create such beautiful things, such exquisite artwork? And Roman was a prince! Princes were not evil, practically by default—this, of course, the reasoning behind why he had selected this moniker for himself in the first place, and fought so hard to make sure it wasn’t forgotten.

But he was running out of steam.

The quality of his creations was starting to diminish: not as popular, not as pretty, not as original. But he persevered. He had to keep going, because if he stopped, if they didn’t have a use for him anymore, if they saw through the cracks in his mask despite how he tried so hard to conceal them, then they would throw him away like they had done his brother. Like they had done Remus.

Roman did not want to be alone.

He had to prove he was worth their time. He had to prove he was worth something. He had to pay for the love that they gave, atone for their adoration, because if he stopped providing, they would stop giving, and he would be left alone and worthless and unnecessary and he wouldn’t, couldn't, can’t have that.

He had to prove he was worthy.

Minutes turned to hours turned to days spent locked behind his door, heaps of discarded scripts tossed offhandedly into empty space, neatly at first, then merely cast in the general direction of the trash as he clawed urgently for the next idea, the next project, the next success, because this would be the one, this one would prove it to them, this would show he was worth keeping around, indisputably, that he wasn’t evil, that he wasn’t his brother.

The papers piled up, Roman’s notebook overflowing with discarded ideas, and yet Thomas’s remained blank.

Once, Patton found him, head in his hands past four in the morning, torn up pages obscuring his desk and floor and half-full coffee mugs littering worksurfaces. He had been led gently to bed, and the next day Roman did not miss the sympathetic glances the others thought he couldn’t see. He didn’t miss the demeaningly cautious tone to Patton’s voice, Virgil’s uncharacteristic lack of teasing insults, the way Logan didn’t correct him, even when he purposefully misused the word ‘inchoate’ just to get a rise from him.

He had failed them. He was supposed to be strong. He was supposed to be confident, proud, indomitable. Most of all, he was supposed to be creative.

That was his symbol, his mark, his purpose. It had to be upheld. He could not allow it to slip between his fingers, fall and shatter, scatter into a million tiny, irredeemable pieces, each too small to be of any consequence or concern.

He couldn’t allow them to see him stumble, because in a moment he would be gone, cast out, forgotten. Not worthy, not ‘good’, not enough.

He had to be stronger, he had to be unyielding, he had to act the part—and act he would. Acting was one of the few talents he actually possessed, one of the few uses he had, and he would damn well make the most of it.

An emotional mask, to an actor, is elementary. Change your face, portray another, hide your true thoughts and emotions and instead channel those of someone else, someone without the meagre concerns of your own life.

Roman donned his mask—someone proud, someone self-assured, someone powerful and determined and Good.

He would not let the mask break. He would patch the cracks before they showed, with wit and charm, magnificence and splendour. Because if they couldn’t see him beneath the extravagance, if they were unable to peer too hard into the shining brilliance lest they damage their eyes, they’d never even know the cracks were there.

He would be brave. He would be proud. Most of all, he would be ‘Good’.

He was not like his brother. He was not horrible. He was worthy, he was wanted, he was loved, and cherished, and appreciated. He was. Of course he was.

He had to make it. He had to be good enough. Because if he wasn’t, if he couldn’t do the only thing he’d ever been good at, what use was he to them? What worth did he have?

Without his mask, what else was left?

The mask had become so rudimentary, so ingrained in his flesh that he wasn’t sure he even existed beyond it any more. He had been acting the part for so long, he wasn’t sure he could stop. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

‘Roman’ had become nothing more than a character he portrayed, his greatest and most elaborate creation. And he had been playing this ‘Roman’ for so long, this bold and brave and extravagant prince, he wasn’t sure he remembered who he had been before.

Had he been anyone before?

Or was this all he was? A shell? A vessel through which a character was to be portrayed?

Maybe he was never supposed to change, to question. Maybe he was supposed to just keep creating, keep acting, continue playing the part of this bold, brave prince.

That was his function, after all. His purpose. And as long as he existed in some shape or form, he must continue to uphold it, no matter how much he may wish otherwise.

As long as he kept creating, as long as he paid for his place, upheld his standard, he couldn’t be forgotten. Couldn’t be overlooked.

These challenges strengthened him, fleshed out his character for a bigger and better and bolder performance. This pain led to amelioration. And if he kept pushing away the negative feelings, no matter how insistently they tried to tear him down, he would be able to soldier forward.

He is an actor, after all. And the show must go on.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #ts roman #sanders sides fanfic #thomas sanders #sanders sides roman #fanfic #rian writes #tw u!patton #not purposefully written that way but it could be read so.#angst #taglists to follow! in a reblog #lmk if you wanna be added!#i reeeally like this one #good follow up to logan's fic 'numb' that i posted forever ago jdgshfgh #they vibe similarly #there are some pretty rad lines in this fic if i do say so myself #feels good to finish writing something after so long!

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makeste · 5 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 246: Plot Whiplash

Previously on BnHA: Hawks handed Endeavor a copy of Re-Destro’s NYT bestseller and was all “ಠ_ಠ READ THIS!!” He then flew off back to the PLF and was all “hey guys just got back from handing out free copies of Destro’s book to everyone in a 1000-mile radius, which absolutely nobody asked me to do, well anyways you can thank me later” and they were all “SWEET.” Back at the Endeavor HQ, Bakugou got all fired up to BUST SOME HEADS but Endeavor’s sidekicks were all “WAIT FOR THE PLOT YOUNG MAN.” Meanwhile in his office, Endeavor discovered a secret code in the book Hawks gave him, which basically read “HEY WHAT’S UP THE LEAGUE HAS TAKEN OVER THE MLA AND HAS AN ARMY OF 100,000 PEOPLE” and Endeavor was like “!!!!” And then we cut to the League and Toga was all “IN FOUR MONTHS TOMURA IS BLOWING THIS SHIT TO KINGDOM COME” and then the chapter just ended. Sometimes it be like that.

Today on BnHA: Tomura sits down with Ujiko who monologues a bit about Quirk Singularity and then starts some sort of quirk-upgrading process which will apparently take four months to fully set in. And also he’s like “oh btw let me tell you about One for All” so THAT’S A THING NOW, GREAT. We then cut back and forth between Endeavor and Hawks, who both somehow come to the weird conclusion that THE INTERNS ARE OUR ONLY HOPE NOW using logic that is hard to explain on account of THERE ACTUALLY ISN’T ANY LOGIC BEHIND IT, SHHH. But anyway, so Endeavor figures out the rest of Hawks’s message and he knows that Hawks is trying to figure out what the League is up to, and something something that’s why the internships are so important. Like, I get that the Terrible Trio are future legends in the making, but these guys are seriously like “well okay let’s just go ahead and rest all our hopes on them” out of the blue, and Hawks has this big monologue about how “THINGS WON’T GO ACCORDING TO YOUR PLAN, VILLAINS” and okay then!! And then the last two pages are basically just DID SOMEBODY ORDER SOME HYPE with more shit going on than I can possibly sum up so I won’t even try lol. But damn.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity afterward, and added a few ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.)

okay guys, I’m feeling kinda under the weather today, but I know this chapter’s gonna be good so lesssssss gooooooo. bring me back to life Horikoshi

(ETA: lol well there sure was a lot happening in this chapter, that’s for sure. my head hurts.)

oooooh it’s a sexy Jump cover celebrating season 4!

I really need the anime team to step up and give Ochako and Tsuyu some more screentime in the Basement Arc since the manga did not do them justice. there’s only like a 20% chance of that happening, which is depressing, but it’s 2019 and the winds are slowly changing, albeit at a geriatric pace. so I’ll allow myself to have some hope. you never know

YEAH SON LOOK AT THIS COLOR SPREAD Y’ALL THIS IS RAD

hello I love everything about this. the colors, the focus on our best girls, Deku’s bizarre-yet-awesome assorted sci-fi accessories (Deku do those headphones let you communicate with space or what), and of course, the five million TVs in the background which for some reason all appear to be from the 70s. all of this to remind us to TUNE IN TOMORROW FOR THE LONG-AWAITED SEASON 4 DEBUT. I will definitely tune in! the first episode is just gonna be the usual half filler/half clip show, but honestly season 3 was so good that I could sit through a whole hour of nothing but highlights and still be thoroughly entertained

anyway let’s move on because there are GAMES AFOOT, and we’re hopefully about to learn which direction this arc will be headed in!

OH SHIT OH FUCK

yep, that’s him. Shigaraki “destruction incarnate” Tomura. I see we’re getting our weekly dose of “just a reminder that WE ARE SCREWED” even earlier than usual this chapter, huh

so does anyone else get a chill up their spine every time Ujiko makes an appearance, or is that just me? like, god. he may honestly be even creepier than AFO. he’s just completely soulless, this guy. he’s got like this Mengele vibe to him (though that may be kinda dicey to compare horrific real-life atrocities to fictional ones in a shounen manga, but I’m just trying to explain why I find him so disturbing) and it really freaks me the hell out, ngl. anyways so him wearing a surgical mask and standing in front of this weird examination chair is pretty much the last thing I need right now. go away Ujiko

so Tomura is all “I want it cuz you promised, so pay up jackass”, and like. fair, though

I really like this new art style Horikoshi’s been using for him since his Awakening. kinda curious how it’s going to translate to the anime, or even to a color spread. but at the very least in black and white it looks siiiiick

smh look at this little punk trying to downplay how insanely freaking overpowered his quirk currently is

okay first of all, “President Baldy” is only alive because you left him alive. and he also had to chop off his own legs to stay that way. like, what kind of argument is this, Tomura? “this power is far from invincible, all my enemies have to do is amputate their own limbs and then they’ll have me right where they want me.” you know what, just go on and destroy the world right now kid. you’re getting greedy now and it could be your undoing

that is a nice parallel between him and Deku there, though. now I’m craving some Symbolic Artwork of them standing back to back each holding out their scarred right arms. maybe with their respective mentors in the background. here at BnHA we prefer our parallels nice and dramatic

sdskfjlaskdj

son of a bitch. I really wish he wouldn’t say that with such utter certainty. “the next conflict will be our last.” cue me flipping through the BnHA table of contents and trying to determine just how far along we actually are here, because this is veering dangerously close to Final Battle signaling, and like, ALREADY?? TOMURA ARE YOU JUST BEING THEATRICAL OR ARE YOU FOR REAL OMG. motherfucking DARK LORD’S LIPS curling into the WICKEDEST FUCKING CRESCENT I’VE EVER SEEN, fuck me

(ETA: it occurs to me on readthrough #2 that “the next conflict will be our last” could be interpreted to mean him and All Might specifically. like, the last conflict between the two of them. and that might very well be true, and would not surprise me at all. shit.)

fjsgk now Ujiko’s talking about research. and quirks!! glkjlkl

fully expecting the camera to cut to some NOUMUS any second now oh my god. also trying not to think about how crazy ominous that fucking chair looks. and how many people this maniac has probably strapped down to it and done god knows what to them. hey Horikoshi you know what, I’ve had just about enough of this dark shit, can we please cut back to my kids now I’m feeling too unsettled. goddammit

anyhow of course we are NOT cutting away, and Ujiko is continuing to talk about quirk evolution, and now segueing into a speech about that quirk singularity thing. -- which he apparently named?? wow

is he actually going to do something to Tomura? holy shit?? this whole time that they’ve been talking about this “power” I’ve just been assuming it was something external, like some other handy dandy villain resource that AFO’s just been sitting on or something. this is not where I expected things to go. didn’t he just get an upgrade??

anyway so here’s a brief summary I just wrote up of The Past Six Months of BnHA:

Deku: [gets a new quirk]

everyone: bruh. Horikoshi really out here giving Deku AFO Powers while Tomura just sits around starving to death on a couch. what the heck

Horikoshi: [powers up Tomura to the point where he can destroy anything just by it being in contact with something that Tomura happens to be touching] [has Tomura use this power to level an entire city]

everyone: -- oh. okay, you know what, never mind --

Horikoshi: [gives Tomura an army of 100,000 people] [also gives him command of 11 extremely lethal and nigh-unstoppable killing machines, just one of which was almost enough to take out the number one hero, LITERALLY THE STRONGEST GUY THE GOOD GUYS CURRENTLY HAVE IN RESERVE]

everyone: okay we’re sorry we get it you can sto --

Horikoshi: APOCALYPSE IN FOUR MONTHS!!!

everyone: WE GET IT WE’RE SORRY PLEASE

Horikoshi: [GIVES TOMURA ANOTHER POWER-UP]

everyone: [curled up in fetal position sobbing]

starting to think the mangaka might be the actual final villain here. hmm

anyway. so I guess we have four months until Tomura ascends to Actual Godhood and proceeds to rain hellfire down upon the world. what are you all gonna do with your four months. I personally have a lot of stuff to binge, but knowing me I’ll probably just waste all my time reading fanfic while youtube videos play in the background which I’m not paying any attention to. what am I doing with my life

oh were we not done hyping him up? there’s more??

(ETA: I got so caught up in the OFA comment I didn’t pay attention to Tomura becoming a beautiful decayed butterfly in this exquisitely creepy panel here. but damn.)

-- HOLD THE FUCK UP. does Tomura know about One for All??? because I was under the impression that AFO hadn’t told him? this would change a lot if he knew this entire time, holy shit?!

aaaaaaaaand exactly one panel later Horikoshi is all “no he didn’t know calm the fuck down” lol

okay then. so he didn’t know, and he’s only just finding out now. well tbh that’s still worthy of a smiling crying emoji face though :’) this is fineeee

shit here we go oh shit

-- WAIT, SO WE’RE JUST CUTTING AWAY FROM THEM? NOW YOU CUT AWAY? YOU GET WITHIN INCHES OF CONFIRMING THE FUCKING ALL FOR ONE FOR ALL THEORY AND THEN IT’S JUST “ANYWAYS HERE’S ENDEAVOR” YOU KNOW WHAT, HORIKOSHI, I --

just. come on dude. AFOFA 2019! let’s make it happen! dammit

sigh, so looks like it’s back to the admittedly-still-epic “Hawks passes down secret information about the villains to Endeavor” plot. I guess we’re not exactly hurting for good plots all around. I may complain but honestly we are spoiled

so Hawks is saying that he actually doesn’t know the specifics of the villains’ plans yet. well shit

apparently his feathers can only pick up sounds from short range, and the villains keep escorting him away whenever they get to talking about the good stuff. well at least that explains that potential plot hole from last week. Hawks’s feathers may have a short range, but Horikoshi’s plot hole caulking gun can fill in leaky plot holes from fucking miles away. amazing

ffffffff

don’t mind me I’m just sitting here fretting about Hawks continuing to be in mortal danger and risking his life to gather information in a race against time against the end of the world. Horikoshi out here piling up stakes like a freaking vampire hunter

but in the meantime, everyone please stop what you’re doing for a moment to look at this absolute unit of a bellhop slash security guard

apologies Lord Vader he was just trying to get to the dining hall. my bad. as you were

and holy shit I hope you enjoyed that light comedic break because two seconds later Re-Destro has dropped in to fixate Hawks with one of those Lightly Menacing Smiles he’s so infamous for. so that’s just fucking great!

HAWKS WATCH OUT FOR YOUR FINGERS

omg. imagine, a showdown between the two stealth murder MVPs of the series, Yotsubashi “Sleeper Hold” Rikiya (yes I did have to look up his real name just now) and Takami “Tag Em And Bag Em” Keigo. true, RD may no longer have legs, but he didn’t need them to choke out our little mouse buddy now did he? anyways speaking of which I just remembered that I fucking hate Re-Destro and I honestly hope Hawks does kill him. it’d be pretty easy to fit him into a bag too. he’s basically just a torso and arms now

oh sure Horikoshi go ahead and spring this on me after all of that ranting why don’t you

by the way does Re-Destro have Robot Legs now, or

looool he does

I will say this for Horikoshi, he knows my weaknesses. more robot limbs please. either badass or memeable ones, either is fine

meanwhile I skipped over this panel of Hawks and Twice being buddies in order to get to the legs, and shame on me for that. let’s go back

Twice is a genuinely good guy and I hope Hawks can tell. I wonder how fake this smile is. I feel like it’d be easy to relax around Twice regardless of how tense you are about your secret spy mission which could go south at any time. anyways this is wholesome

and now we’re cutting back to Endeavor who is taking his sweet time reacting to this whole thing. Endeavor can you fucking chill with the poker face already geez

okay wait, what

are you serious?! I fucking can’t with this lady. “now make sure to throw these children directly into the line of fire! it’s good for them and builds character!” I’m sorry, I thought this was the Hero Public Safety Commission, not the Putting Juveniles Directly Into Harm’s Way Commission?? at least change the acronym to something more appropriate then. Heinous Pathetic Soulless Cowards. just a suggestion. jesus

anyway so for a moment I got confused as to whether this was implying that she’d told Endeavor about Hawks’s undercover mission. but it seems like he’s still unaware. shouldn’t be too long before he puts the pieces together though at this rate

lol in the very next panel, even

meanwhile you’re just sitting on your ass reading a book! FUCKING DO SOMETHING ALREADY, ENDEAVOR

so he’s thinking that the “preparation” part of Hawks’s message is referring to the interns. let me back up a sec and write down the entire message as he’s read it thus far

“four months from now / rising to action / until then / will send / signals / in case / of failure / preparation / numbers”

...read like that, it really does sound like Hawks is advocating to get as many soldiers ready as possible. even if that includes actual children. including Endeavor’s own son. shit. I mean, I get that they don’t have much of a choice, but that’s still so fucked up. sure, we as omniscient readers know that Deku is their one and only hope, but they don’t know that. as far as they know these are just a bunch of teenagers with less than a year’s worth of experience that they’re propping up on the front lines. and the plan is then... what? hope they don’t die too quickly?? fuck

Hawks is out here having an argument with me in his thoughts. you wanna play it like that, Hawks? fine

I don’t know what kind of “but” you can tag on to the end of that paragraph that could possibly win me over, dude, but go for it I guess

and we’re finally cutting back to the kids in question now! with Burnin’ casually trying to crush Kacchan’s hopes and dreams

okay but I love how both Deku and Shouto are like “easy there buddy, we got you” and trying to keep Kacchan from having a fucking aneurysm sob. JUST TRY AND HOIST HIM ONTO SOME DUMB SIDEKICKS, LADY. YOU’VE MADE A POWERFUL ENEMY HERE TODAY

oh shit

oh my god. are we going to get our first actual interaction between the three of them that doesn’t consist of them grumbling annoyed introductions at each other and then running off to fight an old fortune teller omggggg

I love how Deku and Bakugou look weirdly intimidated by him lol. Bakugou where did all that “YOU’RE KIND OF A JERK” confidence go all of a sudden

YESSSSSSS

GODDAMMIT, I’M STILL SO MAD AT YOU GUYS FOR BEING ALL “LET’S JUST MAKE THE CHILDREN DO IT,” BUT DAMMIT THEY KICK ASS THOUGH SO I CAN KINDA SEE YOUR POINT

NOW HAWKS IS METAING ABOUT THEM AHHHHHHH

DAMN STRAIGHT THEY WOULD HAVE. BRING ON TOMURA AND ALL OF HIS STUPID POWER-UPS. WOW I’M WEIRDLY HYPED UP ALL OF A SUDDEN WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME

AND FUCKING LOOK AT THIS TWO-PAGE SPREAD AHHHHHHHHHHH

MOTHERFUCKER [WHIPS OUT PEN AND NOTEBOOK] TIME TO ANALYZE THIS BITCH

so Ochako and Tsuyu did indeed go back to intern with Ryuukyuu again! makes sense, she is a top ten hero after all. who’s that with them, though? almost looks like Yanagi from the hair and the mask, but the costume looks different? hmm

I CAN’T BELIEVE IIDA WENT BACK TO INTERN WITH FUCKING MANUAL AGAIN. THIS GUY IS THE BRAN CEREAL OF HEROES. though I fucking love him though so yeah it’s fine

JIROU AND SHOUJI TEAMING UP WITH GANG FUCKING ORCA AW YISS BOYS THIS IS THE GOOD SHIT LET’S GOOOO

KOUDA AND MANGA TEAMING UP WITH WASH OMG. MANGA IS THE ONLY ONE ON THAT TEAM WHO ACTUALLY FUCKING SPEAKS. IS WASH’S SIDEKICK SOME SORT OF BROOM PERSON OMG

A WHOLE FUCKING ACRE OF KIDS HAVE ALL GANGED UP ON THIS CAVEMAN-LOOKING FELLA I DON’T EVEN RECOGNIZE. WHO ARE YOU. DID YOU CROSS OVER FROM THE FANTASY AU

KIRI BACK WITH FG AND BROUGHT TETSUTETSU ALONG FOR THE RIDE HELLS YEAHHHH

KAMINARI AND SERO WITH KAMUI WOODS AND EDGESHOT I’M HYPERVENTILATING AHHH. AND SHIOZAKI TOO!! I’LL JUST PRETEND I DON’T SEE MINETA THERE IN THE CORNER. MIGHT BE TIME TO DUST OFF THE OLD “CANCELLED” STAMP AGAIN BUT WE’LL SEE HOW THINGS GO

WHO ARE MOMO AND TOKAGE AND MINA AND AOYAMA (WHICH BTW IS THE GREATEST HERO TEAMUP OF ALL TIME HOLY SHIT) TEAMING UP WITH!? TELL US. AND PONY AND MONOMA. GODDAMMIT HORIKOSHI

whew! anyway. they’re all still screwed, but by golly that was nice to have that little invigorating breather of life and hope

LOL OH SHIT THERE’S ANOTHER ONE

okay, SOMEONE TELL ME RIGHT THE FUCK NOW WHAT ALL MIGHT IS LOOKING AT OR I’M GONNA LOSE IT. holy shit. he was researching the past users of OFA, wasn’t he? WHAT DID YOU FIND OH GOD. he’s not just upset, he looks one step shy of fucking crying?? did he learn about what happened to Nana’s son and his family, maybe? shit shit shit

so Yanagi is interning with Kendou then? so who was that with Hadou and Ryuukyuu and the rest. one of Ryuukyuu’s sidekicks?

IS THAT FUYUMI (SPOILERS FUCKING YEAH IT IS) AND WHY DOES IT LOOK LIKE SHE’S FUCKING PRAYING OMG. it looks like she’s kneeling at a family altar?? like saying a prayer for someone who is PRESUMED DEAD, maybe?? LIKE MAYBE A LONG LOST TWIN BROTHER OH SHIT OUT OF NOWHERE THE HYPE DON’T STOP!!

AND WHY DOES NAO HAVE HIS HAT OFF AND CLUTCHED TO HIS CHEST LIKE HE’S TELLING SOMEONE BAD NEWS. GOD WHAT THE HELL EVEN ARE ALL OF THESE PLOT THINGS HAPPENING ALL OF A SUDDEN. LIKE I DON’T KNOW WHERE TO LOOK NEXT

KUROGIRI AHHHHHHHH

WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING TO ERI’S HORN!? DOES ANYONE ELSE SEE THIS?? AIZAWA??? HELLO!?!?

AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST, TEAM OT3. TIME TO FUCKING SUIT UP. APPARENTLY. WELL ALL RIGHT THEN. [JACKET ZIP] [GUN COCKING SOUND EFFECT] LET’S GO PUNCH ‘EM IN THE MOUTH

y’all. this chapter was like plot whiplash. this went in so many different directions and hinted at so many different things that I’m at a complete fucking loss as to what to process first. but I guess the interns are gonna save us all, somehow. lol okay then

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha 246 #shigaraki tomura #hawks #endeavor #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #horikoshi: [makes tomura sexy]#everyone: okay that part is fine I guess #horikoshi: [tells tomura about one for all]#me: :') :') :') :') :') :') :') :') :') welp

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scaryscarecrows · 5 years ago

Text

Bat-recs

Y’know, for fun! Add your favorites; we were all new to this hell at some point, maybe this could be useful for someone.

Batman: Gothic

This was actually the second one I bought; it came across my table when I volunteered at a used library books organization. Two bucks. Immortal murderer? Haunted underwater monastery? Generally freaky? Sign me up! NOT RECOMMENDED FOR THE WEE BABES, we got child murder, mentions of sexual assaults, and a literal head in the trash can. Poor Bruce. This story put him through the absolute wringer and I want to hug him.

The Cult

Also freaky! Bane says he broke Batman. Bane broke Batman a few years LATER; Blackfire...jeeze, man. (So far, two for two on the whole ‘immortal evil religious figure’. Hm.) Psychological horror out to HERE, and there’s a couple of pages that just WORK so WELL, when Robin!Jason finally finds poor Bruce. Also not for children, here there be a lotta bodies. And rats. And Bruce being...uh...well, we don’t need to talk about that now.

Scarecrow Year One

MY FIRST AND FAVORITE. (Ahh, evil religious individual! But not immortal this time.) Jonathan Crane’s backstory-one of them-with bonus Batdad content. Sean Murphy's sketchy artwork works really, really well for, well, Scarecrow, and Baby Crane is a little cutie. Protect him at all costs. Eh, if you or your kid’s a frightened type, the swarms of attacking crows might be a bit much, but there’s no corpse-stacks or child murder this time.

Li’l Gotham

Tired of everything hurting? Say no more. Tooth-rotting fluff is HERE. Batfamily getting along. Damian loves his mom and she loves him back and I am HAPPY ABOUT IT. This is what you’d think DC is like all the time, based on fic. Worth having for when they inevitably ruin something else. The same team has since done Once Upon a Crime, which is also precious.

White Knight

Did I see ‘Sean Murphy’ and smash the preorder? Yeah. Do I decree that this Ivy design is the best Ivy? Yeah. Elseworlds/Black Label, so he’s free to deconstruct Batman...and Batman’s proclivity for destroying Gotham in the pursuit of one asshole. (I feel a little called out, given my driving in Arkham Knight.) Has a sequel, and I’m waiting for the TP, but I’m sure I’ll love it just the same. Harley’s looking good here, guys; she is taking no shit AND she’s not being treated as a bimbo. She has brains and she’s not afraid to use them! Eh, mild nudity and violence, but barring Jason Todd’s standard woes, I’d rate it about the same as SYO in terms of ‘will this traumatize my kid?’

Under the Red Hood

1) No kids. There’s a bag o’ severed heads lovingly detailed like, five pages in. Red Hood ain’t Batman, a fact that he would like to make very clear.

2) THE SASS. THE SAAAAAAASS. EVERYBODY IS A SNARKY BASTARD AND I LOVE IT ALL. Well, almost all. I will grant that the animated film fixed my one big grievance with the ending. :) Seriously, though, ‘oh, my goodness gracious! I’ve been bamboozled!’ is golden and I’m WAITING for that line to make it to screen. Don’t be cowards, DC.

Haunted Knight

Everyone’s gonna rec The Long Halloween, as well they ought, but Haunted Knight-same team-is also great. Scarecrow’s design is...I’m torn between loving it and wanting to yeet it into the sun, but it works for him. This is a short story collection featuring Mad Hatter, Scarecrow, and and a Bat-ified Christmas Carol.

Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth

OKAY. This is sort of like The Long Halloween in that it’s frequently considered ‘required reading’, but I do legitimately enjoy it; it’s very, very, creepy. THIS is where the Arkham Asylum game takes a lot of its inspiration; the Rogues do not go to Batman. He goes to them. This also establishes Arkham’s history. I will say that you should pick up a newer edition with the annotated script included (most of them have it now) because there’s a LOT of symbolism in the art that you might miss, and knowing it really adds to the experience. I’d totally teach this in a psych class, though. Or an English class. It’s great. Bonus for everybody having their own style of dialogue: Joker does not have speech bubbles, for instance, Bruce is black and white. Really gives you an idea of how they talk. It’s also nice that most of the Gallery gets some page time, even if they don’t talk; Scarecrow, for instance, has no dialogue, but he doesn’t need it. His presence is enough. Hard R-rating for scary images and implied childhood sexual abuse.

The Animated Series

Yup. Start here. START. HERE. Every major rogue (and several obscure ones) gets an episode in the limelight, Bruce is at his absolute best-that perfect combo of ‘gettin’ real tired of your shit, Villain of the Week’ and the compassion that’s gone missing lately-Harley looks great (and, y’know, LIKE A HARLEQUIN), and although it is kid-friendly, it doesn’t treat the viewer like a kid, so you can enjoy it as an adult. (You’re a lying liar who lies if Baby Doll’s episodes didn’t make you teary-eyed. It’s okay. There’s no shame to be had.) Bonus: Dick Grayson is a little ray of sunshine compared to Batman, but that’s not all he is and the writers remembered that. :) And, well...

Iconic.

The Arkham Series

These are almost the animated series for a more mature audience (complete with a lot of the same voice casting!); murder is now allowed to be confirmed. If you’re intimidated by the comics, this is also a good place to start. Again, all the major rogues and a few lesser-knowns get some time to shine, the characterization is working (Bruce is not here for Joker’s shit, but he can still take a minute to calm down a panicking guard), and yeah, I love the designs.

Look at my baby. THAT is legitimately frightening. 10/10, would run from again. Bonus: not only do we get Alfred, we get three whole Robins AND Oracle. That said, while the games give you PLENTY of options to go ‘I’m Batman’, Bruce takes almost none of them, so you have to do it. You gotta. It’s the law.

EDITED TO INCLUDE

Gotham County Line

Batman deals with the psychological guilt of not being able to save everyone, and there are...zombies. Sort of. Amazingly, Scarecrow is nowhere to be seen, yet Bruce does admit, straight-up, ‘I’m afraid’. Me too, Bruce. Me, too.

10/10 for creep factor here. I went into this unaware it was possible to be scared of Alfred. It is. It is possible. I am a changed woman now. Nothing really...comes of it...but I swear, I turned the page, and this was waiting for me:

Mommy...

Also unsettling; the hanged man in general. A+ unsettling artwork, I’m sure that guy will haunt me. Added bonus: Zombie Robin Jason popping in to save Bruce’s bacon, because he is a good boy, and Zombie Waynes being proud parents. I did not expect the Feels Crowbar...but it was a nice surprise.

#bat-recs #these are my personal favorites #the ones I'd definitely grab if my house was on fire or something #batman

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avengerscompound · 5 years ago

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Ronin

Ronin: A Hawkeye Fanfic

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

Rating: E

Square: @clintbartonbingo - Missing Scene

Word Count: 1954

Warnings: smut (M|F, one-night stand, vaginal sex, oral sex)

Synopsis: A strange keeps coming into your shop without an appointment to work on his Ronin tattoo.

Ronin

“He’s back again.”

Joey didn’t even need to say who he was talking about. You knew right away. He'd been in a couple of times. Never gave a name. Never booked a further appointment. Yet he somehow managed to show up blind each time when you didn't have anyone booked in.

He was getting a sleeve done. A skeletal samurai that turned into a snake at his elbow that then wrapped itself around his forearm. It was in black and green and highly detailed. You were only about a halfway done, if you were thinking optimistically about it.

The situation was odd but you strangely never felt worried with him. He was quiet but non-threatening. Always polite when he spoke and friendly enough. You didn't mind the drop-ins. He’d ask if you were free but clarify that he understood if you weren't. It was fine. Besides he had gorgeous arms. It was fun working on them.

“Alright. I'll get him.” You said.

“You sure? I gotta head out. You gonna be okay alone with the guy?”

You shrugged. “He seems harmless. Just lost people. And really, who hasn't?”

“True that,” Joey said. “I'll send him back and lock up. Be careful though.”

You pulled the design from your file. “Always am, Joey.”

The guy appeared in the doorway barely a moment later. “You're sure this is okay?”

You gestured for him to sit. “Yeah. I mean if you'd book a time, it’d be better. But business is a little quieter since… Well, you know.”

He nodded. “Sorry. I just travel a lot these days. Never know when I'll be here.”

You felt he was playing with half-truths. Maybe that was some of the reason, but it wasn't the whole reason. It didn't matter though. He could tell you straight up blatant lies if he wanted, as long as he sat still and paid at the end of the session. Which he always did so there was no reason to question him.

He took off his coat and sat down in the chair. You set up next to him and began to prep his arm, shaving it and washing it down. He smiled and chuckled softly. You’d never seen him crack a smile once since you first met him.

“Did I tickle you?” You asked as you dipped the needles in the green ink.

“Yes, No. Just thinking about how nice the prep feels and then its pain.”

“Metaphor for life.” You said with a small shrug.

You began to do the shading on his lower bicep. The muscles in his arm all tensed at once, the vein that ran down his forearm becoming more prominent. He had gorgeous arms. You wondered what he did that gave him that particular set of muscles. They weren’t the bodybuilding kind of muscles, just swollen and worked so that each one is large but none are really meant for anything. He was muscular in the way that people who used their arms were. The mohawk he sported said it he wasn’t military. Tradesperson maybe? He had been sporting bruises and cuts each visit, so maybe he was an MMA fighter?

Slowly he relaxed as you worked, as usual not really talking. The first time he had come in he’d asked if it was okay not to talk, so you hadn’t pushed it since. It was fine with you. It was much easier to focus when you weren’t making idle chit-chat.

“Did you lose anyone?” He asked.

The question had pulled you out of a daydream you’d started having about what he could do with those arms and you startled a little. It took a moment for the question to sink in. When you realized what he was asking you frowned and focused a little harder on the art. “Yeah. Of course. Who didn’t?”

“Right.” He said, frowning and tensing a little. You chewed on the inside of your cheek. You weren’t a therapist, you were an artist. It wasn’t your place to try and unpick whatever it was that was going through his head, but he’d never really said boo to you outside of the original tattoo design process. Now he seemed to want to get something off his chest.

“Who did you lose?” You asked.

“Everyone.” He said.

“You lost everyone?”

He gave a curt nod. “My parents died when I was a kid. I had a guy take me on a mentor, he’s gone. My wife. My kids. Even the woman who I’d taken under my own wing. I lost everyone.”

The way he spoke was that of a man who was trying to show no emotion. Someone just wanted to be numb from the pain but couldn’t quite manage it. “They said it was random. Doesn’t always feel like it.” You said. “So you’re alone?”

He nodded and looked down at the artwork on his arm, not saying anything. You went back to focusing on the tattoo, working methodically down his arm.

“What I don’t get is how can it have taken all those innocent people. Kids even. Yet there are still fucking monsters in the world. You know?” He said.

“Yeah. I know. Also, all those people who got taken out because they were in planes whose pilots turned to dust. Or the people in fallout zones from power plants that overloaded because suddenly half the staff was gone. Half of us turned to dust and then a whole bunch died right with them.” You said.

He scowled and clenched his fists for a moment. The rest of the time was spent in silence. It was interesting. Since half the world was turned to dust, a lot of the people who came in got tattoos commemorating people they’d lost. Portraits of their wives. The names of their kids inside hearts or teddy bears. Symbolic things that meant something special just between them and their loved one. You felt this samurai was like that too, but there was something darker. He had no tattoos at all coming in. Now he was getting this clear sign he was a different person than who he had been.

You supposed you got that. Who was the same after what had happened? People kept saying you had to move on. But how could anyone really do that?

You finished up after about four hours. It was late, well past when you normally went home for the day. “What do you think?” You asked as you washed it off.

He looked it over and nodded. “Looks great. Thank you.”

“What you wanted?”

He took a deep breath and let it out. “Yeah.” He said. “Just how I pictured it.”

You covered the new parts with Vaseline and covered it in plastic.

The guy followed you to the register to pay. “Guess I won’t see you again.”

You smiled. “Guess not. Unless you want some more art done.”

“Well, thank you for that. I needed … something.”

You reached over and touched his arm. It was familiar and you wouldn’t normally cross that line, but you had been touching him for four hours now. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

There was a moment where something seemed to pass through you. You didn’t know what it was exactly, or what made you do it, but you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. It was like you could tell he needed it. That he needed some affection, even if it was brief.

He turned his head and leaned into you, like he was going to kiss you, but stopped and hovered there. You could see the cogs turning as he began to overthink what was happening. You took the initiative and brought your lips to his.

He reacted quickly, pushing you up against the wall and kissing you hungrily. Desperately even. Trying to grab this brief piece of human intimacy while he could. This safe piece of connection that meant nothing, but he needed with every piece of him.

You ran your hands along his jaw and down his neck as he ground into you against the lockers. His tongue danced with yours, circling it and running along your lips as you kissed. You scrambled to open his belt. The frantic, desperate nature of his movements affected you. It made you want this just that little bit more. As you opened his belt he broke the kiss and pulled your shirt off. He ran his hands up your sides and cupped your breasts, then yanked your bra down so your breasts spilled out. He squeezed your tits together end leaned down and began to suck and bite at your nipples. You moaned and wrapped a leg around him, drawing him closer to you, rolling your hips against him.

You pushed his pants down enough to free his cock and you wrapped your hands around it. He groaned and pushed into your hand. “Fuck,” He groaned. “Fuck, I want you.”

“Then give it to me.” You growled.

You unfastened your jeans and he pushed them down and barely gave you a moment to step out of them before he lifted you and slammed you against the wall again. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he ground his dick against you. You moaned loudly, your cunt wet and ready to take him.

His cock slid up and down your folds a few times before he thrust inside of you. You moaned throwing your head back and dug your fingers into the corded muscles of his back. He started to thrust, each one accompanied by the roll of his hips as he kept you pinned to the wall. He kissed you passionately, making you light-headed as he fucked you hard. The shelves rocked above you adding to the sounds of your moans and grunts.

Your whole body began to tremble against him as you felt your orgasm approaching. You moaned and threw your head back. He slipped his hand between your legs and rubbed your clit hard and with a loud moan you came.

Clint groaned and bit down into your shoulder as he continued to fuck you through it. You pulled off his cock and pushed him back. “Let me.” You said.

He submitted to you quickly, letting you guide him back to the tattoo chair. You pushed him down into it and crouched between his legs. You licked up the length of his cock and dropped your head down, taking his full length down your throat. He groaned and arched his back, his stomach muscles pulling tight as he gripped at the arms of the chair. “Fuck.” He groaned. “That’s it.”

You started bobbing your head up and down, sucking and hollowing your tongue. He moaned loudly as his cock began to twitch and leak precum. “Fuck. Gonna come.”

You picked up your pace and teased his balls, letting him know it was okay to let go. He mewled and with a sudden jerk of his hips, he came in hot, salty ropes, filling your mouth.

You swallowed it all down and licked your lips. He lay back panting as you got up and pulled your pants back on. When he finally seemed to come down from his orgasm high he tucked himself away and got up. “I - Thanks. I don’t know why that just happened. But… it’s been a while.”

You came over and rubbed his shoulder. “I enjoyed it too.”

He looked at you and the ghost of a smile passed over his features. “I guess I’ll be seeing you.”

“Yeah.” You said walking him out. You knew that probably wasn’t true, but you did hope that whatever it was he was looking for he found it.

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