#brian the fucking NOTES I have been taking about them specifically are so long winded and wild

[myattman]

klaus and ben for that duo bingo

good buddy I have been becoming more and more insane about them as my rewatch continues

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Core Drive - Clean: 1.04

A/N: Having conquered the tip of the iceberg, Zeke gets Logan to take a deeper dive beneath the surface, forcing him to face the things that he hadn’t even realize were stunting his progress. This one honestly took a lot out of me to write, but it’s nothing compared to the next- and last- two pieces in this first section. Yikes. Hang in there, folks. 

Warning: mention of suicide, drug use and addiction, alcohol, depression and language. 

Word Count: 7,000 

“Did you want to end things that night, Logan?” 

Ezekiel’s question cut through the static filling Logan’s ears, and drew his focus away from the wide leaves of the potted plant hanging behind the man’s desk. It’s called a nerve plant, Zeke had told him during one of their first one on one meetings. It had caught Logan’s eye then and had become a default focal point for him anytime he found himself occupying the purple armchair opposite his counselor. For him, it was easier to open up and answer difficult questions if half of his brain was busy following the weblike patterns branching off of the leaves’ sturdy midrib in thin wisps curling and reaching for the edges. It’s got some pretentious scientific name, Zeke had gone on, gesturing behind himself at the plant with the arm of his glasses pinched between thumb and forefinger. But I like “nerve plant”. You know, if I watered it with black water those veins would turn black. Interesting, isn’t it?  

Logan blinked, the intricate network of spidery white veins winding through the dark green foliage vanishing with the memory of Zeke’s explanation of the plant. He glanced down at his left forearm where his own web of veins used to be much more visible; purplish blue threads unraveling under the skin. He thought about them turning black like Zeke’s plant and it made him cringe. With a shake of his head he looked back up to answer the question. “No.” 

They’d been discussing the events that had sent Logan down his current path, specifically the night of his first overdose- the night of Juliet and William’s wedding. There were things that had proved easier to share in group meetings; the dynamics of his relationship with his father, the debaucherous things he’d gotten up to in the park, the fact that he’d first experimented with painkillers after the death of his mother had left a jagged hole in his heart that grew larger each day until the Vicodin he had leftover from having his wisdom teeth removed showed him a way to close it. Daddy issues. Promiscuity. Addiction via dentistry. All things that he had in common with many of the men and women he sat in group sessions with, and therefore safe and simple to share. But just as he suspected that he’d never know everything about Dawn or Brian or any of them- Not even Miguel- there were parts of his past and his recovery that belonged only to him, that he could share only when he sat where he was sitting now. Especially the parts that included you. He blinked again, the residual phantom wisps of the nerve plant’s veins disappearing behind his closed lids, your tear streaked face filling his memory instead. 

I’ve never been that scared, Logan. Never. 

Your voice filled his mind and reached down into his chest, just like it did when you spoke those words to him that night, and the corners of his eyes started to sting. I never meant to do that to you. I never meant for you to be hurt by this.

 “I never meant to…”

He hadn’t realized that words were coming out of his mouth, and he trailed off as he lifted his face to lock eyes with Zeke. With a sigh he continued. “No, I didn’t want to die that night, I just…” He returned his gaze to the plant with a shake of his head as everything he felt that night surged to the surface. Fuck. 

Across from Logan, Zeke uncrossed his long legs and leaned forward to brace his elbows on the desk. There was a near constant covering of handwritten notes, printed pages and drawings that littered Zeke’s workspace. At first Logan turned his nose up to see such clutter in an office- a space that was slated for productivity. In the beginning of his time here, he felt himself judging the man for his disorganized piles and non alphabetized book shelves bursting with more books than they were built to hold, but he quickly realized that he hadn’t a leg to stand on. My office at Delos is...was fucking pristine and it didn’t keep me in line. The pages beneath Zeke’s elbows rustled as he adjusted their position, removing his glasses and folding his arms. “Logan. You know I’m not gonna force you to talk about it. This isn’t some eat your peas or you can’t leave the table bullshit, you know that.” 

That got a strangled chuckle from Logan. “Good. I always fuckin’ hated peas.” 

Zeke blew air through his nostrils in a laugh and nodded. “Yeah, me too. My old man would always force me to eat every goddamn pea. Only made me hate them more.” 

“There a point coming soon here, Zeke?” I know there is, so let’s get to it. Logan shifted his weight, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head to the side. “I know I’m not here to talk about vegetables.” 

“Not unless vegetables were what tipped the scales that night, no.” Zeke was a professional at walking the thin line between sarcastic and asshole, directly down the narrow avenue to the capital T truth. “Look, Logan.” He pressed his hands together, lacing the fingers of his left with those of his right, pointers steepled and thumbs tucked into his palms. “You’ve been here four and a half months now. And you’re really doing great. I see it, and I know you see it too.” 

Logan had to agree. Aside from the fact that he was in the best shape of his life, he was starting to allow himself the time and space and mess it took to heal. He was learning that asking for help wasn’t a weakness, and that feeling things- even the painful things- was part of what it meant to be alive. He learned that burying those things in bullshit only allowed the hurt to fester and spread into every other part of him. It was a short term solution, the relief as fleeting and dangerous as any other poison that he pumped himself full of. “Thanks, Zeke. I-” 

Ezekiel pulled his palms apart and held one hand up, cutting Logan off. “You’re doing really great, but…” One eyebrow arched as he tilted his head, and Logan knew what was coming next. “But unless you get into the thick of it? The real thick of it?” He placed both hands back on his desktop, his piercing hazel-green eyes sharply focused on Logan’s. “You’re just spinnin’ your wheels. And I know that’s not you.” 

Zeke was right again. Logan had also learned that Ezekiel and Miguel knew him better than almost anyone else in the world. Better than anyone who worked for him, better than his father- even better than Jules. Ache sliced through his chest as he added his sister to the list of strangers in his life. It wasn’t always like that. We used to… we were close once. He knew that there had been more than a few things that had driven wedges into the cracks in his relationship with Juliet, but he also knew that none of them were nearly as detrimental to it as William had been. The familiar stinging in the corner of his eyes and the tight clenching in his chest that always came along with thoughts of the seemingly innocuous blonde haired, blue-eyed shit bag that had destroyed what was left of his happiness threatened to take hold. 

But just as quickly as the pain swept through his heart, your name floated through his mind and he closed his eyes. She knows me. He let that thought wash over him like a wave, quelling the smoldering embers that never seemed to cool completely. It had been almost five months since he’d seen or spoken to you. 136 days. He’d kept track of more than his progress since arriving in North Carolina’s Outer Banks, counting the days since the last time he’d felt your palm pressed to his chest or your lips brushing the skin behind his ear as you tried to keep him anchored in the moment with you. 

That’s it, that’s what she...why she was… she was my anchor. It wasn’t clear to him in the beginning, because he wasn’t looking for something so solid, so grounding and stable. He wasn’t looking for understanding or acceptance when he met you, but he’d found all of those things just the same. I just didn’t know it then… not like… not like I do now. Not even when he added a photo of you to his pocket before venturing into the park. He closed his eyes, letting out a breath. I just couldn’t see it then.

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..

  Logan ran the edge of his front teeth over his bottom lip as he stepped closer to where you sat, thumb and forefinger of his left hand slipping beneath the thin gold chain around your right ankle. Goddamn, she’s… He heard you suck in a breath as the rest of his digits bent to wrap around the base of your foot. Watching as the glow of the underwater lights shimmied over the skin of your submerged shins, he felt himself give into the trancelike pull you had on him whenever he touched you. His right palm emerged from the water to slide up your other leg, fingertips pressing lightly into the muscle of your calf before climbing over your knee. Can’t keep my hands off her. Your sigh turned into a hum as he gently squeezed your thigh. And she doesn’t want me to.

“What are you doing, Delos?” From your tone he could tell that you were smirking, and before he even looked back up at you, he could see the way you were looking at him. 

Logan groaned quietly when he glanced up to find the exact expression on your face that he’d imagined. Eyes lingering on your lips as you pressed them together before letting them slowly part again, he eased his right hand up to your hip, thumb dragging along the elastic of your bathing suit bottoms. “You sure you don’t wanna join me for a swim?” He tightened the grip he had on your ankle and curled his fingers into the crease where your thigh met your hip. 

Your lips fell open and one eyebrow arched high as you tilted your head. A breathy sigh slipped out and for a second you were speechless, completely at the mercy of his hands on your body. Fuck, she...when she… It was one of his favorite sounds, and knowing how to pull it from you was one of his favorite skills. He groaned again as you reached forward to sweep the damp hair from his face, and suddenly it was you who had the upper hand, mischief twinkling like stars in your eyes.  “Wasn’t planning on getting wet tonight Logan.”  

“That so?” You shook your head, biting your bottom lip. Goddamn. “And,” He moved the hand that was at your hip around to the small of your back. “What makes you think staying out of the pool means you’re not gonna get wet, hmm?” He still had your ankle wrapped in his left hand, and he used it to open your legs wider, stepping as far between them as he could as he pushed you closer to the edge of the pool. “You tellin’ me you came here tonight just to sit there’n-” He leaned in, brushing his nose along your throat before dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin there, your hand dropping from the back of his head to squeeze the top of his shoulder. “Tease me?” 

You shrugged. “You tellin’ me you had something else in mind?” 

Plenty. His answer came in the form of a tug on your ankle, the hand at your back sliding under you as he pulled you into the water and against his chest. Your surprised shout of his name only spurred him on more, and he knew that you actually weren’t surprised at all even as the splash soaked your hair. You laughed, eyes wide as you wound your legs around his waist and draped your arms around his neck, and he pushed away from the side of the pool and out into the middle. He adjusted his hold on you with one hand, bringing the other up to your face. Thumb trailing over your lips, he stared straight at them, speaking your name. “I was thinkin’ we start here and…” Without fully removing his thumb, he brought his lips to yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. He could feel the warmth of your sudden exhale and it caused his smile to grow devilish. “See what happens.” He didn’t wait then, resuming motion and crashing his lips to yours. 

You responded immediately, kissing him hard as you gripped a fistful of his hair, twisting the strands around your knuckles. The hand he had on your cheek slid down to your throat, and he felt your moan vibrate against his palm. Jesus, I… Your thighs tightened around his body as you locked your ankles behind him, the water rippling as you rolled your hips into his. Fuck, she’s… this is… Your free hand pressed to the center of his chest, the tip of your middle finger tracing the dip of his clavicle, and he couldn’t hold back a groan. No one makes me feel like this. 

In the three and a half months since he’d met you, Logan hadn’t stopped seeing other people. He’d even taken someone to a gallery opening earlier that same night. Being seen out with a different date all over town was what everyone expected of Logan Delos, L.A.s most famous bachelor, and it was what he’d come to expect of himself, so he’d chosen a reliable date for the evening. But he’s not here with me right now, he’s not… He hadn’t stopped seeing other people, but he had stopped sleeping with them, stopped inviting them back to the pool or the guest house. Because they don’t… none of them are… He pulled away then, looking into your eyes as you stared back. What is it about her that I… 

“Hey.” You dropped your legs from his waist but kept your body flush to his. Logan kept both hands on you, keeping you close. 

He grinned, dipping his chin down to catch your lips in another quick kiss. You gasped against his lips as he answered. “Hey.” 

“So,” You reached behind yourself to untie the neck strap of your halter top, the dark material falling forward to expose your chest. Fuck me. He watched as you moved to the second strap, completely removing your bathing suit top and handing it to him. “What else did you have in mind?” 

Logan had shown you exactly what else crossed his mind then, tossing your top aside and reaching under the water to remove your bottoms while never breaking eye contact. Within seconds of asking your question he’d given you his answer, covering your mouth with his to devour the sighs that his fingers coaxed out of you. 

The two of you had stayed in the pool even after you’d collapsed into his shoulder, neither of you wanting to give up the way that the warm water felt as it lapped against your skin. The conversation had drifted through several topics before landing on his upcoming business trip. He mentioned that he would be taking some investors to the park for their first time. Wish I was takin’ her though...showin’ her around instead of…

“Does it ever scare you?” You straddled his waist, your arms draped over his shoulders as the two of you floated together. The bright silver light of the nearly full moon was muted behind a filmy cluster of clouds, but it reflected off of the cool water, shining on your wet skin and illuminating your eyes. 

Logan tilted his head to the side, regripping your thigh and adjusting the arm that he had wrapped around your back to hold you more securely. “Does what scare me?” 

You brought one hand up from his shoulder to the back of his head, water dripping from your fingertips as they threaded through his thick hair. He closed his eyes for half a second as your nails scratched lightly over his scalp, a breath escaping his slack smile as he blinked them back open again. Goddamn that’s fucking... “The park. How real it all is I mean.” What? He frowned and drew his eyebrows together questioningly, prompting you to continue. “That’s…” You sighed. “I mean, I know that’s the point, right? That it feels like you’re really…” you twirled your fingers absently in the hair at the base of his neck, your eyes focused somewhere in the sprawling darkness over his shoulder, teeth biting into your plump bottom lip. “That you’re really doing whatever it is you’re…” 

Logan leaned back so that he could intercept your eye-line, taking his hand from your back to gently turn your face towards his own. “With the Hosts you mean?” He shook his head, his wet touch trailing down your throat to dip back under the water and find a home on your body. “They’re just dolls, they can’t hurt anyone so there’s nothin’ to be-” 

“No, that’s not,” you let one hand slide down to the center of his chest, dropping your eyes down to follow your fingers as they spread out over his skin. “That’s not what I meant, Logan.” You brought your eyes back up and when you did he thought he saw a splash of concern coloring their depths. He squeezed your thigh, grip biting into your flesh with light pressure. “I mean… is it really good for it to feel that real? Does it scare you to think that it might be too realistic? That someone could get lost in it?”

Logan thought back to his first trip to the park; the way that the completely immersive experience blew his mind even knowing everything that he did about the Hosts and the synthetic world that they populated. He could still taste the adrenaline on his tongue, potent and pure like a shot of undiluted absinthe, put there by the click of a pistol hammer locking into place, the barrel aimed point blank at his chest. It felt like the bullet was swimming a slow backstroke through the hot, dusty desert air, and Logan felt his pupils double in size, felt himself tense up and brace for the impact. He swallowed that shot of adrenaline, and it set his teeth buzzing, sped up the tempo of his heartbeat. He knew it wasn’t real, but everything in his body was telling him that he was about to die. In that moment he froze, unable to even flinch as the smirking outlaw delivered some scripted line and pulled the trigger. A loud pop and a small cloud of gunpowder smoke registered with him just milliseconds before a blunt blow to his breastbone made him stumble backwards. 

“It’s designed to make you think,” he squeezed the bottoms of your thighs, “make you feel like it’s all... real. But it only works if everyone accepts that it isn’t. It’s,” he licked his lips and squinted his eyes. “Sure, it’s probably not good for everyone. But when the stakes feel… when they seem like they really matter? That’s when people find out who they really are.” 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

He didn’t tell you then that he safeguarded himself every time he set foot in the park by smuggling in a photo of someone close to him, someone that he could focus on to remind himself of what was actually real. Usually, it was a photo of his sister, the person that Logan felt closest to for most of his life. He didn’t tell you that he planned to bring a second picture on his next trip- one you’d sent him just a week prior, smiling at him from in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. 

It was the same photo he continued to take with him on every subsequent trip. It was the photo that he needed out in the desert, the realization that it was still in the pocket of his coat causing hysterical, tearless sobs to rip from his chest. It was the photo that he kept on his bedside table now. She was my… 

Hey, asshole, she’s not what we’re here to talk about, is she? 

Logan blinked, looking past Zeke’s potted plants to the slender figure leaning against the window sill, jacket unbuttoned, cut crystal tumbler of amber liquid in hand. Shit. 

He asked if you wanted to kill yourself that night. The figure pushed away from the window, gesturing with his glass, thumb and three fingers wrapped around it as he pointed at Logan. You know, the night of Juliet’s wedding? The night she fished you outta your damn pool ‘cause you- he took his pointed finger and jabbed it into the crook of his opposite elbow, droplets of dark brown liquor splashing onto his sleeve. And I’m lookin’ forward to this answer, cause I- 

“I didn’t want to fucking die, I just… I wanted to forget how I… how everything felt. I wanted to erase it but I couldn’t. I-” Logan didn’t realize he’d gotten to his feet, didn’t realize that the abrupt action cleared the room of his personal phantom, but he was left speaking only to Ezekiel, and speaking only what he knew to be true. Shaking his head, he pushed his hair back and paced around to stand behind the chair he’d been occupying during the session. “That night was… it was one of the worst nights of my life, Zeke.” He gripped the backrest and leaned forward. “My own sister’s fucking wedding night. Do you know, can you… do you know how that made me feel? That the entire time I was there, I wished I was anywhere fucking else, because my skin was crawling at the idea of that...that piece of shit crawling into my family, but I fucked up my chances at getting Jules to listen to me so… Fuck, Zeke, I… it felt how it did after my mom died, like I was alone, like no one would...and I wanted to feel anything other than the… the fucking pain.” 

He spat the last word with disdain as his voice wavered. Ezekiel sat quietly, eyes trained on Logan as he went on. “So I found what I needed and I fuckin… I got high, and I got drunk, and I would have died that night, whether it was what I wanted or not. I know that. I know that she…” Fuck. He swallowed a hard lump so he wouldn’t choke when he spoke your name, wanting it to come out clear. “I know she saved my life that night.” 

He shuddered as the most vivid moments from that night flashed in his memory- stumbling into a car with you, stripping off his jacket and shoving it over your shoulders as he cycled from deep chills to fiery sweats. He’d forgotten that his pocket held the empty vial, the nearly empty pill bottle. Somehow, you’d gotten him home, into his place, and he recalled tears- yours and his own. He refused to stay inside, that he remembered, too. I wanted to hear the ocean, I think. You had gone inside to get him a glass of water and… an aspirin, maybe?...apparently happy enough that you’d gotten him to lay down on one of the lounge chairs to leave him out of your sight. Dizzy...and slow...everything was slower than it should have been. He recalled the way his heart beat grew lazier. Then he heard a crash from inside, the sound of glass shattering ringing in his ear to jolt him from the nearly hypnotic state he was falling into. You, there you were, in the doorway, but when he tried to get to you his legs gave out and he fell. Your panicked shout of his name, and then the bright lights of the hospital. 

There was more, of course, more that he’d been told because there were giant gaps in his memory. A fight with Jim, William’s smug face as his arm wrapped around Juliet’s shoulder to pull her away from the scene her brother and father were causing, Juliet’s disappointed glance as you talked Logan into leaving. He was told, because he didn’t remember, that when he had stood from the lounge chair and fallen, he’d hit his head on the concrete and plunged into the pool, unconscious and bleeding. If you hadn’t been there, he would have drowned and the poison swimming through his bloodstream wouldn’t have mattered. 

But the rest of the night was burned into his brain, the details coming to him in cascades. Logan sat back down in the chair he’d paced around, head falling into his hands. “Logan?” Zeke was trying to prompt him to continue, but he didn’t need it, the rest playing out in high definition- you, sitting in a chair beside his bed, the same terrified look on your face that he first saw when you’d flown to the medical facility at the Mesa to be there for him after he’d been extracted from the desert. Jesus, she fuckin’...she...    

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..

“I…” your breath hitched as your eyes fell closed, and you brought your free hand up to swipe away the tears you could no longer hold back. When you blinked them open again, Logan saw everything he never wanted to put there- fear and hurt, uncertainty, and a sadness that didn’t belong where he was used to seeing such warmth. “I felt something in the pocket so I pulled it out and-” You closed your eyes and sucked in a breath, opening them as you released the air through your nose. “As soon as I realized what it was...and then that it was empty?” You shook your head and winced. “I didn’t think, Logan, I just… I knew I had to get to you. Fast, and…” 

That’s when I heard the glass break… She must have dropped it when... He tried to force his focus and recall the rest of the details so you wouldn’t have to go through it again. 

“God, Logan, I was sc-“ your voice broke, splintering into a ragged breath and you shook your head swallowing hard. Without unlacing your fingers from his, you brought your linked hands up to wipe at your exhausted, puffy pinkish eyes, dampening his skin with your stray tears. “I was terrified. I thought... I thought I was too late. I thought that you were-“ you took a breath and he saw your chest shake as you let it back out. I know. I know what you thought. At first he didn’t think you were going to finish your sentence, but then your eyes locked on to his and you continued. “I thought you were d-“ you took another brief pause while you shuffled through your vocabulary, looking for a word that presented less of a choking hazard. “Gone, Logan. I’ve never…” You dissolved into tears again, head going back and forth as though you could banish the emotions. When you spoke again your voice was barely a whisper, but the pain in it echoed in his heart. “I’ve never been that scared, Logan. Never.” 

Though you’d returned your hand and his to the bed, he felt more of your tears falling fat and wet on his knuckles, rolling over and between his fingers. “Hey.” His throat was raw and dry, the single word burning on its way out. But I have to… she needs to hear this. He rubbed his thumb lightly against the underside of your wrist and as he did, everything you’d been holding together came undone. “Hey,” he said again, this time adding your name. “I know… I know. But you weren’t, okay? You weren’t too late and I’m-“ He glanced at his free hand, the back of it stuck with needles for IVs, a pulse oximeter clamped over one finger, wires and tubes attaching to machines and bags. The nurse had warned him that moving too much would cause the needle to shift under the skin of his bony hand. Fuck it, I don’t care if it hurts. He lifted it and brought that hand up to wipe beneath your eyes so he could keep the other one wrapped in yours. The sharp prick and uncomfortable tug of the tubing attached to the needle vanished as he felt your breath hit his fingertips. He said your name again, fighting to keep his tone as even as possible. “Hey, come here.” I need to… need her to… He rallied against the thick, heavy feeling in his limbs and slid over making room in the small bed. 

“What are you… are you sure, Logan? I-“ your forehead creased with worry as he moved but he nodded and squeezed the hand he still held, and it was all you needed. You stood and carefully climbed into the bed with him, both of you turned on your hips and faces only inches apart. 

Logan rested the side of his nose against yours as you closed your eyes, his palm laying to the side of your head. A small whine left your throat and he felt a fresh stream of tears starting up. He wanted to tell you that it was alright; that you weren’t too late, that everything was okay and that he would be fine. But it’s not. She never should have had to… He felt his eyes sting as his tears ran to mix with yours, and in lieu of the words he wanted to say, he pressed his lips over your wet cheeks, whispering your name and stroking your hair until you fell asleep. 

Once he felt your chest stop shuddering and the strained, painful, torn sound of each exhale had faded into a more rhythmic pattern, Logan looked down at your hand over his heart. She deserves better than this. But even as he had the thought he could hear you telling him that he did too. You had been his lifeline in the weeks since his last trip, and while he knew that you deserved more of him than the broken down version that came back from the desert, he knew that no one deserved the torture he’d been dealt, the lies that had been spun, the damage that had taken a sledgehammer to the things he worked so hard for so long to keep in check. And he knew that you understood. He knew that you seemed to be the only one that did. Could she…

His door opened then, a nurse entering the room to change the bag of fluids attached to his I.V. and he quickly changed his thoughts, shutting them down before they had a chance to cause any more trouble. No. 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

But he knew now that you did. You loved him. There was no other conceivable reason for you to have been there for as much as you had been if you didn’t love him, unconditionally and without expectation. “She… Jesus, Zeke, she loved me and I was too blind to see it, I...I made myself too blind to see it, I…” Fuck. “I missed it and now…” Logan looked back up at the man sitting on the opposite side of the cluttered desk, the long green tendrils of his plant collection hanging behind him like a thin curtain as late afternoon sunlight filtered in. Say something, tell me how to-

“You don’t talk about her much, Logan. Almost five months in, and this is maybe the,” Ezekiel shrugged, scrunching his nose to make his glasses ride up. “Third?” He looked up to the ceiling then back down at Logan nodding. “Yeah, this is only the third time I’ve heard you talk about her. See,” he leaned on the points of his elbows, palms bladed and directed at Logan. “I’ve heard you talk about your father. And I’ve heard you talk about your sister and her husband.” Logan felt his top lip curl and he knew Zeke picked up on it. “You do a real good job, Logan, at talkin about the people who hurt you. And I think that’s part of why you’ve been able to come so far, I really do.” Alright, but what do they have to do with- “But talkin about the people that mean something to you? That seems harder for you. His eyes narrowed and he folded his arms on top of his desk. “I don’t think you missed it, Logan. I think you knew that she...and if you ever gave her just a fraction of what I see when you do talk about her, there’s no way she missed it either.” 

Logan’s breath came out in a strangled sigh as he nodded. It was still uncomfortable for him to have to rehash all of the things he’d kept buried for so long, uncomfortable to have someone so able to read and anticipate and guide him through it, but Zeke was right about this just as he was right about most things. “That’s why I didn’t...I wasn’t trying to kill myself, Zeke. I knew I wasn’t alone. I knew I had her even if I wasn’t… even if I didn’t…” he shook his head slowly. “I didn’t let myself think that I deserved her. I didn’t let myself have her, not like she… not like I should have, because I was fucking scared of what would happen when I...when I lost her.” Shit, that’s...I never fucking said that before but it’s… 

“It's easier for you to believe what everyone else says about you than it is for you to believe that you can prove them wrong.” What? Logan gripped the arms of the chair he sat in, sweaty palms slipping over the smooth wood. “At least, that’s what I think.” Ezekiel tilted his head and sat back. “What do you think about that?” 

Initially Logan wanted to argue, to deny the unflattering truth that Ezekiel had uncovered. But he’s right I… Surprising himself, a hollow laugh slipped from his lips, his shaking hand swiping downward over his bearded chin. “No that’s...that’s right. I… when its a fight I know I can win, I’m fucking relentless. I fight like hell on business deals and shit that ultimately means fuckall. But when it’s something I can lose I just…” He trailed off, thoughts drifting to the point in time when he decided that Juliet had become a losing battle. 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

Logan stood staring at his sister, heart dropping as he watched his words of warning about William, about their father,  fall flat on Juliet’s face. Again. 

She scoffed, looking away. “Don’t be ridiculous, Logan.” Raising her left hand, she laid her palm to her forehead and scrubbed it harshly backwards over the crown of her head, fingers curling to grip a fistful of hair. Her head shook from side to side, and the cold, white light of the moon struck the many facets of the emerald cut diamond that she wore. He winced as the light bounced off of her ring and into his eyes, burning her engagement to William and everything that it stood for into them. “Dad wouldn’t…” Dad wouldn’t. There’s nothing that man wouldn’t do, Juliet. She dropped her hand from her head, letting it slap against the alabaster railing, the band of her ring clinking when it hit the stone. She shook her head again and turned to face him, leaning back against the banister. “He’s my father, Logan. I know you two have had your problems, but-” What?

“Had our problems?! Jules, come on you know it-” 

She cut him right back off, stepping away from the banister and towards him. “Don’t call me Jules, Logan. We're not kids anymore.” The anger and frustration that he’d been hiding behind proved thinner than he thought, her words splintering it like cheap plywood, the hurt he’d tried to tuck away seeping through the cracks. He swallowed and took a staggering step backwards.  No. No we’re not. 

Juliet sighed and closed her eyes, looking at least half sorry for the biting tone she’d just used. She opened them and when she did he saw sheer exhaustion in them- exhaustion from dealing with him, with the way that things had been going since he’d last been to the park and the relentless way that he kept poking and pulling at her relationship. Not how anyone should look the week before their wedding. “Look. I know that you think Dad is some,” she blinked slowly, twirling her hand- her right this time, no twelve carat rock to catch the icy light. “Some monster. But he’s...he lo-” 

Tears had started forming in Logan’s eyes but he hadn’t noticed them until they’d fallen on his curled top lip. ”He doesn’t love anything but his company! He doesn’t love me, he didn’t love mom,” she opened her mouth but he didn’t let her get a word out. “And if you think he loves you, after giving you his blessing to marry him, you’re-” 

“What do you mean, he doesn’t love you?” Her voice had quieted, and where she’d been frustrated and frantic before, he watched his sister deflate, the exhaustion spilling from her eyes to wash over her entire face. “Of course he-” 

“He told me to get the fuck out of his house, Juliet. Did you know that? When I… after,” he narrowed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. Just say it. “The first time? After mom?” He saw pain flash through his sister’s eyes and he knew it was just as multifaceted as the rock on her hand. She hadn’t been home when their mother silently slipped away, and while Logan had to carry the weight of telling Juliet, she had to  carry the guilt of not being there in those final moments. And then when she did get home, she had hardly any time to grieve before she’d found her brother slumped over and barely breathing in the pool house. I know it hurts, Jul. But you have to listen. Please. “I tried to ask him for help. And you know what he said?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. He knew she didn’t know because he knew he never told her. “He said he wouldn’t waste his time on a junkie like me.” He shook his head. “That’s not love. That’s not a father thats-”  

The door slid open  behind them and Logan stiffened, his back straightening. Fuck. He looked  to Juliet, begging her with his eyes to tell the other man to go back inside, to give them more time. To fuck off. But he saw it in her face- saw the moment that she decided that it wasn’t worth the fight, that choosing William and Jim here meant choosing the easiest path through rough terrain. It was the moment he gave up that fight, too. 

“Everything okay out here?” Syrupy sweet like condensed milk, the voice that tormented him in the desert hit Logan’s ear and all the fight in him drained out. He chanced one last look at Juliet only to see her staring at her feet as William’s hand curled around her bicep, tugging her to his side. Logan heard the man press a smacking kiss to his sister’s temple and he winced, remembering how maniacally infatuated he had become with a Host in the park, how easily he’d tossed his sister aside then only to use her as a prop now. “Logan, I didn’t know you were here.” He snapped his head up then, eyes locking with the icy blue pair staring back at him. “To what do we owe the-”

“I was just fuckin leaving, Billy.” His eyes moved from William’s to Juliet’s, the slightest bit of satisfaction from the man’s distaste of the nickname not eclipsing the fact that his sister was still choosing the ground instead of him. Ouch, Jules...damn. “You  two have a good fuckin night.” 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..          

“When it’s something I can lose… I don’t even fight.” The words felt heavy and hard as he spoke them, a  buzzing in his brain that wasn’t there when he’d first sat down in Zeke’s office. Shit. “I give up...I...I gave up on, on myself.” I didn’t want to lose everything- my place at Delos, Juliet… your name swirled through his mind then, right up there with the other things that he cared enough about to be wounded by. So I just...quit. That’s...fuck that’s not… “That’s not who I am.” 

The revelation came quietly as he looked down at his forearm. That’s not...that doesn’t define you. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt your fingertips brush over the bruising on the inside of his elbow. That’s not who you are, Logan. When he’d finally told you everything about his ongoing struggle with addiction, all you’d done was try to make him see that he was worth the fight. That he, Logan Delos, was worth saving. 

I didn’t see it then. But I… I see it now. 

“Well then you better start fighting again, Logan.” Ezekiel called him back to the present, the man calmly removing his glasses to clean the lenses. “You better start fighting for what you know you deserve, because if you do? If you fight the way I know you can, the way that she knows you can...the way you know you can?” He inspected his glasses before perching them back on his nose. “If you fight and you keep fighting? There’s no way you can lose, Logan. No damn way.”

.

.

.

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @malionnes @suchatinyinfinity @gollyderek @thesumofmychoices @belladonnarey @ymariejp @obscurilicious @songtoyou @traeumerinwitzhelden @drinix @jigsawlover10 @getlostinyourparadise @nananananananananananabatman @vetseras​ @qhostboyyy @pheedraws​ @alraedesigns​ @valkblue​ @dearmarii​ 

[disabled-queen-hc-blog]

one of queen trying increasingly bad pickup lines on another member (preferably joger) to make them crack a smile after someone has upset them/ theyve had a bad day

Roger sighed as he rubbed his face a little too hard, trying to steady his racing heart. He wanted to be a rock star so badly, ever since he was little but this was too much. He hadn’t been able to eat since yesterday. He can’t afford new drum sticks. The gig they had scheduled last week cancelled their act out of the blue. This was all going to shit.

“Fucking hell,” he mumbled to himself, hunching over in his chair. His stomach rumbled.

“Hey Roger?” a quiet voice said, cutting into his wallowing. Roger looked up to see John, the relatively new bassist crouched before him.

“Hmm?” he hummed, wanting to go back to his self deprecating thoughts.

John smiled before saying, “I’m lost. Can you give me directions to your heart?”

Roger spluttered, going red. “W-What?”

John flashed a devious smirk and shrugged. “It usually makes people laugh,” he said before standing up and walking away.

With the panic fading from him, Roger indeed laughed. John had a really weird sense of humor and all of them were still getting used to it. Really weird. But Roger couldn’t stop laughing.

♚

Roger took off his sunglasses, setting them on the table besides the mountain of papers he was attempting to make into a song. He had this idea in his head, this feeling that tugged at his heart strings, but it was seeming impossible to actually get it down on paper. With every lyric and note he wrote, it lost that grandiosity he had in his head.

He groaned, scratching out another line, nearly tearing the paper as he did so. Not like it mattered! There was only garbage on it. No need to preserve rubbish.

He ran his fingers through his hair as the door opened, John coming in with two cups of tea in hand and his always genuine smile.

“You’ve been pretty quiet. Thought I’d fetch you some tea. Could only find early grey. That alright with you?” he said, placing the tea in front of Roger. Roger nodded, not caring for whatever it was. He could take just about anything right now to see if that loosened up the gunk in his brain. 

John sat opposite of him, blowing on the piping cup, glancing at Roger who was ready to pull his hair out.

“Uh, Rog?” he asked, a shyness to his tone.

“Yeah?”

“Well..Aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?“

Rogert snorted, slamming his hand down onto the table. “Goddamit, Deacy! I thought you were going to give me advice! Get out of here!” Roger yelled while chuckling, pointing to the door.

John snickered as he got up, waving an apologetic hand.

“But, I never got to ask you how your trip down from heaven was!”

John ran out the door before Roger could fling his sunglasses at him.

♚

Roger was sitting in his stool, thinking about everything besides how bloody long Brian’s guitar solo was. Maybe if he squinted hard enough, he could count how many people in the crowd were wearing yellow.

One..two..

“Hey!”

Roger came back from his day dreams, shooting a grin to John who had joined him on the drum riser, probably also bored out of his mind after what was Brian’s 5th solo.

“You know what?” John practically had to scream over the crowd and amps.

“What?” Roger yelled back, wiping some sweat from his forehead.

“You don’t need keys to drive me crazy.”

Roger threw his head back, letting out a gigantic laugh that nobody but John could hear. John just smiled, his eye crinkles showing as he hopped down the steps and kept on dancing, like nothing had happened.

Roger was so winded, he almost missed his cue to start playing again. Cheeky thing that John was. Always making him laugh right when he needed one. Good guy...Good guy...

♚

“Tell me why you needed me specifically to go on this road trip with you?” John asked as he cranked Roger’s car window down, sighing contentedly when the cool air hit his face.

Roger tried to hide his smile as he drove, stealing quick looks at a blissed out John in the passenger seat. John could never say no to a nice long car ride, even if he pretended to be all chuffed about it. He was as crazy for cars as Roger was.

“Oh! Simple really. I wanted to ask you something. Was your mother a thief?” Roger said, face as serious and stoic as his voice.

John’s face scrunched up at the question, shaking his head incredulously. “What? You know my mum, mate. What kind of question is that?”

“Oh. I was just asking ‘Cus someone stole the stars from the sky and put them in your eyes,” Roger said, his grin too wide to contain.

John went pink, fumbling with the bottom of his shirt. “O-Oh..!” was all he could manage to say.

Roger giggled before continuing. “Is it hot in here or is it just you?”

“It’s just you...”

“Did the sun come out or did you just smile at me?”

“It’s noon...”

 Roger was laughing all the while, but his chuckling falter, his grip on the steering wheel growing tight.

“Is it just me or have you been flirting with me all these years?” he asked, his stomach suddenly beginning to flip.

John, for once, didn’t have an immediate answer. His mouth hung open, face flushing deeply.

The two were quiet for a minute, not uncomfortable but certainly not comforting either. Maybe Roger had read too much into the gag. Maybe he was better off driving the car off the side of a-

John cleared his throat, looking at Roger as he spoke.

“There's side view, rear view and you know what else?" he asked, a hint of a tremble in his voice.

“What else?” Roger asked, eager to see where this was going.

“I loview.”

Roger’s face got extremely warm, having to focus very hard on driving in that moment since his brain had set fireworks off. Oh thank god.

“D-Do you?” he found himself asking, uncharacteristically blunt and shaky, not his usual suave self.

John stayed silent, but had his answer ready at hand. A deliriously soft kiss to Roger’s cheek.

Roger had planned to take John to the beach for a beautiful first date, but at this rate he would crash the car from the heart palpitations and the occasional brain going blank he was experiencing. 

He pulled over, almost breathless as he said, “You want to go to a diner? Just off this highway?”

John nodded in the affirmative.

“Also,” Roger said before pressing his lips to John’s, John’s cheeks cupped in his calloused hands. John leaned into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut.

This was not in the plans at all, but goddamn.

Roger pulled away, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Your lips don’t look so lonely anymore.”

John snorted, slapping Roger’s knee.

This wasn’t in the plans, but by god was it a good start.

[celestialvinyl]

good company. (roger taylor x reader).

pairing: roger taylor x reader

word count: 2.7k 

A/N: okay, look -- i know that MTV didn’t start broadcasting until ‘81, but we’re going to pretend that a familiar channel existed in the 70′s. it’s mainly because of this iconic interview. just go with it. you’ll enjoy it, i hope! 

warnings: swearing (a healthy dollop), historical pop culture references i’m not even sure are entirely right, and lots of different ways of saying how beautiful roger is.

You were pretty sure you were going to throw up.

“What the hell do you mean ‘you can’t do the interview’?” you hissed to the colleague opposite of you. Angela, who was looking greener than a toad stared at you, her most apologetic look she could muster spread over her face. Although, it wasn’t much. Her energy was all but gone as she pathetically sat at her desk. While the bullpin around the two of you continued with it’s routine commotion, you just stared at Angela as though she had practically ended the world. 

She struggled to get anything out without doubling over, and you were surprised your boss hand’t come out yet to scream at her to go home. Nevertheless, she sat herself up and took a deep breath. “I’ve got to get home and get over this. I can’t puke all over Roger Taylor’s shoes, (Y/N).”

“Well, that’s obvious.” You shot back. Your anxiety was getting the best of you; your brain already knew what Angela was going to ask of you. It was busy trying to think of ways out of her favor. But, you still made the mistake to ask, “So, what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to have someone else go on.” Angie got out. She followed with a big breath, and a hand to her chest as though it would hold back something from coming up her throat. “But Benny can’t do it — neither can David. They’re swamped with the Glen Campbell thing. You just finished Carly Simon’s—”

As though you knew where this was going, you put on your fighting gloves. “I had weeks to prep for Carly! You’re giving me—” In a mad rush, you looked down to the watch — the one your last boyfriend gave you as a “useful” gift since you were always late. “— You’re giving me four hours, Angie.”

She took a deep breath, and you weren’t quite sure if that was from the nausea she was experiencing, or the hard time you were giving her. Either way, it sent a wave of guilt washing over you that somehow dispelled the anxiety beginning to overtake you from the prospect of actually doing this interview. You’d barely listened to the new album, let alone checked up on them in order to feel prepared.

A Day at the Races had been out for less than a month, and with the holidays coming up soon — listening to it had been on the bottom of your priority list. They were good — and it wasn’t an album that you were going to forget about. But damn —the Carly Simon piece had taken every last inch of your effort for the last two months. (And you were really just looking forward to gliding through the rest of the week until holiday break). But this? Roger Taylor was going to have your ass, and not in the way you would particularly want it. Maybe that was why you hated yourself as the simple “I’ll do it” crawled up your throat and off your lips.

Angie barely heard the statement, just from the softness that it came out as. Her shoulders slumped in a sense of relief — or maybe fatigue — signaling that you better go and start working on this fucking interview. Even with the folder that Angie handed over before you left, there was still so much to do.

You managed to lock yourself into your office with the album blasting.

As coworkers walked by, they found your physically anxious body hunched over your desk as you spent close to three hours surveying Angie’s notes and questions, while the album blasted from your speakers in the other corner. A room that was normally your safe haven had become a sort of hell in such a short amount of time.

It had been months since you last crammed for an interview so much; last time — it was Mike Love. He had been gracious enough to deal with you as you steered your questions towards him specifically, although you suspected it wasn’t difficult for the man to speak of himself. Even easier, it seemed, was it to keep the conversation off of Brian Wilson. And while your boss wasn’t the happiest with the results — it was the best anyone could do. (Nobody had heard from the Wilson brother in question in so long that there was a running bet in the office as to if the news would come that he had passed.)

But the problem with Roger Taylor was that he wasn’t the front man to begin with. Sure, he had a song on the album in question — and he was the pretty boy — but the sheer magnetism that Freddie Mercury held with a death grip wasn’t there when you peered at a photo of Roger. And that was alright, but it left you at an odd position. Angie’s papers noted the lack of previous interviews with just Roger, and instead of that relaxing you with the prospect of originality — you began to panic more with the knowledge that there wasn’t much info to go off of. Nevertheless, you pressed on.

As though you had another option.

Hair and makeup breezed by, and while curlers set your hair — you paced in your office and continued to read over the new notes you had scribbled. There were a few good questions you could pride yourself on coming up with in such a short time. There were a few pissers. Fucking hell, you just hoped that this would go smoothly enough. Because if it didn’t…well, your Christmas might not go as swimmingly as you wanted it to. Your job would be fine, but the anxiety of upsetting your boss was too much to deal with. This job was nice — something that didn’t seem like a good idea to strike out at.

A gentle knock on the door revealed an office assistant giving you pained glance. As your eyebrows scrunched up in a questioning return, your eyes trailed over to the small  entourage exiting the elevator and making their way inside. “Shit.”

As you scrambled to remove your curlers and check yourself over in the mirror, the creeping apprehension you thought you had settled started to bubble up once more. The logical side of your brain reminded you that this wouldn’t sack your career. An interview with a drummer, from a band that had about the same name recognition as Doris Day’s son, could get you a lot of views — if you aced it. But if you didn’t? It might not be a problem. The key word was “might”. And that let you take a breath as the last curler came out, and you smoothed yourself out one last time.

And then you were out. The mess inside your office could be dealt with later, once this whole thing was over with.

The blonde, pretty boy entering the office space looked so different from everyone else’s bland attire. If nothing else gave away the lack of resemblance to the rest of the place, his clothes would do the job. With a steel pink blazer draped over his shoulders, Roger Taylor seemed to fit more to be on a runway than the office space of a music cable syndicate. His sunglasses had yet to come off. Just barely hanging on at the edge of his nose, you were thinking to yourself that you could probably blow them off with just a little wind.

When he shook your hand, you noticed how strong of a grip he had. “Mr. Taylor,” you greeted. And god damn, wow — the the sight of the veins in his hands somehow caused your pulse to quicken in the slightest. You weren’t quite sure why, because it was such an odd remark to yourself.

“Roger.”

“Roger,” you corrected yourself with a small smile, before pulling your hand away and letting it roam one of your pockets for your lucky pen. You needed to focus on something else or you were pretty sure any air of professionalism you held would be thrown out the window when he could hear your heartbeat. “It’s good to have you here.”

He grinned at you, and you could see his eyes from just over the rims of the sunglasses.  And oh, shit — they were absolutely gorgeous. Relax, [Y/N], you chided yourself. With one last deep breath to calm your nerves, you flashed him your best TV smile and held out a hand as to point to the studio doors. “Would you follow me? We can go over the brief while we do mic checks and everything for the night.”

He didn’t argue with you. About halfway down the hallway — he piped up. “‘m sorry, but wasn’t Angie supposed to do this?”

You cocked your head over your shoulder, giving him a quick response while people bustled around your new group. “She had to leave early today — emergency. I took over.” There, short and simple. He didn’t need to know about how you nearly pulled your hair out on several different occasions. The drama of telling yourself that this was too short of a deadline wasn’t something he needed to worry himself with.

Someone held the door open for you and Roger (with his little entourage that consisted of a couple of men that you probably thought were part of his management.) The set was bustling with other workers, and as you got to the table — you turned back to him. “Alright,” you launched off. “I’ll keep this simple: It’s live, but we’re actually going to send it over to another sound stage after ours for a little while. It should be easy.” He probably didn’t need this whole explanation, but what could it hurt? “I left my questions open, so you can plug the album well. If there’s anything personal you want to add — that sells well. Got it?”

Roger looked at you with a little grin and nodded. “Got it. Should be easy.” He copied.

As the hook to “Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy” played overhead, you finally let out the breath you’d been holding since Angela gave you the job this afternoon. The whole thing was over; it had gone off without a hitch. Roger had done pretty well, and that calm candor had to have leant to the fact that he was here promoting the album, as opposed to the other members. You’d have to ask Angela about the others later.

Your papers, discarded on the table in front of you were practically pointless now. And Roger seized on that fact. He smiled as he took your papers from the spot they laid in front of you. You tried to reach for them and yank them back, but if your boss saw — that would look more unprofessional then whatever he was reading on the—

“Did Brian May write “Tie Your Mother Down” about anyone is specifics?” As soon as those words came out of his mouth, your cheeks tinted into the most crimson shade you’d ever known. Roger’s howl of a laugh echoed through the studio, and while everyone else kept to their own business — it sure didn’t feel that way. You were sure the spotlight guy up in the rafters had it pointed on you instead of whatever act was prepping on the small stage to your right. Somehow, he had managed to find the jokes — those stupid questions you wrote when you were on the wire and you thought you were going to explode.

He wasn’t supposed to find those.

And yet he continued listening them off, holding back laughter with very little success. “After your recent problems with EMI, do you really think you can dance a Millionare’s Waltz? Would you consider yourself a good old fashioned lover boy? Mr. Taylor, do you know you take my breath away?”

The last one, written in a final and brief moment before the interview started was meant to give you one last chuckle before the cameras started rolling. It wasn’t supposed to cause you the humiliation that it did now, and yet somehow — you honestly considered just melting into your chair and pretending that you never existed. “They’re jokes,” you tried. “Don’t you ever get the jitters before a big show?”

He finally met your eyes, with a gleam of his amusement obvious. You looked horribly upset but tried to hold yourself together like the professional you were. Those shitty jokes and questions might not give that air off, but you tried to convince yourself that you were. Despite this, you were pretty sure you didn’t look more pitiful and ashamed than your pup when you were a kid and they got into the trash bin.

“I don’t write jokes that are easily accessible to the ones they’re written about, no.” He countered, finally setting down the sheet and giving you the access to take them back. “But those would have been more fun to hear on air.”

You could only imagine. “And how would you have answered?”

He sensed the challenge growing in your eyes, but more so in your tone. And something in him stirred, like a sense of enjoyment he hadn’t felt at one of these things before. Sure, some of the other girls were willing to be obvious in their admiration (and what was he supposed to do as the rockstar he was?) Yet, no one was quite like you. And Roger liked the difference. So, he played along. “Well,” he started. “I would say that the bullshit Brian says about writing that song in college isn’t as true as he wishes it was. And we’re doing pretty good for ourself now. And uhm,” he paused — trying to remember the others. Why was he forgetting something that had made him laugh so hard a few seconds ago?

You breathed a sigh of relief that he was having trouble remembering the others. The first two were practically harmless — a little interesting when getting into the more personal aspects of the band. The others were practically spelling out in big letters how much your heart raced when you were around him now — throwing your experience as a “true journalist” out the window. And just as he seemed to remember, one of the tech assistants finally came to the rescue and asked for your mic.

You gave him the biggest smile, and found your reason to pause this whole thing. Getting unhooked took a second, but as soon as the newbie was off with your mic pack in hand, you thanked the heavens for the fact Roger Taylor had found himself someone else to chat to. In your small opportunity, you rifled through the papers you quickly collected and found the cursed sheet of paper. Without much grandeur or pomp, you crumpled the horrid thing and tossed it in the bin. With that out of the way, you found your interviewee once more.

He grinned when he saw you, and you smiled back. “Thanks for the opportunity, Roger.” Despite the amount of stress he and this interview had put you in, it was a great opportunity and a slight tilt from your regular. While Angela took most of rock albums and bands, you were most often times given more folksy albums to review and work on pieces for. Queen was quite the opposite.

“Ah, I should be the one thanking you.” He shot back, and you grinned. But God, your heart fluttered because his smile was something else. And then you had to remind yourself that this was just a single interview. “Thanks for the laughs. Any chance I could get that paper to show to the band?”

Oh, no. You chuckled despite the sinking feeling of anxiety taking you over. “I wish I could. I just tossed all my papers in the bin.” As you were about to say something else, you could hear your boss calling your name and quickly gave him the ‘i’ve got to go’ smile. Rushing off, Roger started to look around the set for any bins he might see.

A young man was emptying one out by where you had been previously, and Roger figured this was probably a good shot. As he rushed over, he found your scribbled handwriting over one of the sheets on the top of the bin. Still in the young guy’s arms, Roger only took a second to fish it out and head off. This would make a good story for the others.

[crimsonbluemoon]

MiniCat: Secret Santa

Alright, another one checked off my list! Please enjoy! <3

MiniCat: I got you for secret santa so I got you this really expensive but sentimental gift that you’ve always wanted, hoping you’ll never find out it’s from me - and that I’ve been in love with you 1234567 years

“I know it was you.” Tyler made sure his glare was aimed at Evan, wanting the man to feel bad for what he’d done. But his troll of a friend was ruthless in his ways, so it wasn’t surprising that he merely glanced up to the taller man and blinked in ‘innocence’.

“What are you talking about?” Evan’s elongated emphasis on the word proved he knew what he was doing, but Tyler didn’t have enough evidence to disprove it. The laughter and music of the Christmas party going on around them was creating a warm atmosphere in the group, and Tyler knew that Brock would have his head if he ruined it with an argument. Still, he grunted, showing his displeasure without crushing the present neatly wrapped in his hand.

“Stupid owl.” Evan grinned at the insult, moving to sit in the chair next to his friend. Evan took a sip of his drink while scanning the room, as if checking for someone specific while he spoke.

“I was just helping you save money; you knew you were going to get Mini a present either way. People in love do that.” If Tyler had any say, Evan was going to end up drowned in the eggnog by the end of the party. “So what did you get him?”

“None of your business,” Tyler snapped back, knowing how immature he sounded when holding the present closer to him. But the sneaky friend didn’t get to know everything, especially when he was the one who set up the secret santa. His eyes drifted through the party, finding the man whose present sat in his lap. Mini was laughing at Panda, who was currently shoving his face full of as many mini sandwiches he could. The light of the Christmas lights made the bleached hair of his friend twinkle with different colors, but the enjoyment in his eyes showed the optimistic nature of the man. Without meaning to, Mini attracted people, a large group of their friends around him teasing or saying something to make the reactive man answer. Brian was always the worst, and Tyler scowled at the causal arm their friend had around Mini’s shoulders.

“How much did you spend? I know it was more than the thirty dollar limit.”

“I wanna punch you.”

“He’s gonna yell at you for spending too much.” Delirious’s yell of ‘present time’ had both men pushing up from their seats, walking toward the larger room in order to start the game.

“Not if he doesn’t know it’s me, dumbass.” The response made him smirk, though it weakened at Evan’s blink of confusion.

“Obviously he’s gonna know it’s you; you have to tell him after his opens it.”

“Wait, what?” Tyler’s stomach curled in on itself when Evan nodded, showing his anger when he snapped out his set question. “I thought your Santa was supposed to be a fucking secret!?”

“It’s done both ways, but Brock always makes us tell who gave what after Smii7y bought a sex toy for Brian. Weren’t you here last year for this?”

“I went to my parent’s last year for the week,” Tyler hissed out, the conversation cut short when Ryan popped up in front of them.   

“Why hello, secret Santas. Brock put me on elf duty, so let me see your gifts.” Before Tyler could speak, the gift was pulled from his hand, and he had to bite his lip from protesting when watching Ryan carry it to the tree. It looked innocent, propped up with the other gifts, but Tyler knew it was the symbol of his entire life falling apart. And to add insult to misery, Tyler’s present was given last. Everyone else was a mess of laughs and enjoyment, with friends and couples switching gifts. And just as Evan had said, each person had to fess up to their gifts, which made his stomach drop. As more people gave away their presents, Tyler’s world was getting smaller, and he knew his cheeks were starting to turn red when only his gift was left under the tree.

“It’s finally me!” Mini said with excitement, hands clapping together as he waited for Ryan to bring over the gift.

“Yeah, just like Mario Kart, always last.” Nogla’s comment had the rest of the group laughing, though Tyler barely could get noise to slip out. His hands were balled up into fists in his lap, shoulders tight and spine solid from tension. His eyes followed the gift, teeth clenched tight when Mini let it drop into his lap.

“Who knew Tyler could wrap so nicely?” Mini teased, their eyes meeting for a moment across the room. The joking glance lost its edge in favor of confusion from the Brit, and silently Tyler wondered if the preparation for the oncoming embarrassment was easy to read on his face. Slowly, Mini broke the connection, looking down to slowly unwrap his gift. The paper and bow were tossed to the side for a box, nothing fancy or eye-catching in the least. Tyler’s breath stopped when his friend popped open the top, glasses unable to hide the pure shock that flooded Mini’s gaze when he stared at the present.

“Well, what did you get?” Marcel’s question made Tyler flinch, trying to remain silent and strong. He knew what was in the box; the hand-painted official Yoshi figurine had been a bitch to find, and getting connections to have Shigefumi Hino sign it had cost Tyler a pretty penny. Both of those could have been passed over as a strong friendship between the two and their shared love of Yoshi. But it was the clumsy writing on the note under the figurine, with the words ‘You’re always first place in my heart. I love you, Craig’ that was impossible to explain away. Mini’s eye’s hadn’t left the inside of the box since opening it, falling quieter than Tyler had ever heard his friend before. The nausea that was filling his stomach made it hard to stay in the room, and he tried to think of an excuse to leave the party. He’d deal with Mini and the fallout later, when he wasn’t so bitter and angry and heartbroken-

“Tyler!” He only had a moment to look up before he was being tackled back onto the rug they were sitting on, the wind knocked out of him from the impact. The arms that wrapped around him were tight, lips hot against his neck when several excited kisses were pressed to his skin. He didn’t have time to think about the sudden shift, Mini popping back up over him to show his rosy cheeks and bright smile. “How did you get him to sign it? How did you-I love it, Tyler. I love-I love you, too!”

“What the fuck?” Scotty’s exclamation was blocked out by the kiss that Mini pressed to his lips, Tyler’s eyes widening from the sign of affection. But he didn’t take long to get himself together and kiss the man above him back, arms coming up to pull Mini closer to him. The returned feelings were felt through the kiss, no question for Tyler if Mini actually felt the same. The connection was real, just like the cracked lips pressing deeper against his own, and the warmth of the body over his.

And maybe he didn’t need to drown the stupid owl after all.

[britpop-bowie]

Introducing: my writing

So this is only the first part of the first chapter but I thought I'd test it on an audience to see how well it's received and if there's any major changes I should make. As of yet John's character hasn't been introduced but will be later, and I don't have a summary either, but I do have 1700 trial words so let's see!

Dedicated in part, if not entirely, to @freddieseyeliner

A foolish lovers game - Queen

Brian May was sat, arms up on the back of the sofa and impossibly long legs slung up on the coffee table; an impossible air of both calm and incredible energy. His hair was huge and wild and completely contrasted the tidy nature of the flat he was lounging in. “Bri you lazy fucker!” came a rousing yell from the first door on the right as a shaggy head of blond hair and half finished eyeliner was thrust around the frame; “we’ve got an hour and you’re not even ready yet!” Roger stared with his best bitch face as Brian rolled his eyes at his ever so slightly overdressed man in the doorway. “Rog, it’s just a new roommate arriving. Don’t be so overdramatic,” Roger stuck out his tongue and ducked back into the room, presumably to finish his makeup or try on a third outfit to impress their much needed new roommate. “What is he called again?” He yelled from the depths of his horrendously messy bedroom towards Brian who sighed and sifted through the pile of bills, scrap paper and empty forms to find the letter from their perspective friend.

“I think it’s uh… Eddie or uh, Freddie? Yeah, Freddie.” He read out from the piece of paper than had been annoyingly scrunched up, presumably by Roger. “Did he say anything else? I need to know what look to go for,” He shouted back rather than taking what Brian thought to be the more sensible option of having an actual human conversation not shouted through walls. “No! Why don’t you just ask him himself when he gets here?” Roger reappeared for a split second in a flurry of hair and wearing a questionably patterned blazer “don’t be a dick Bri.”

“No, no I’m not being a dick, you’re just getting too stressed out and dressed up for one human being,”

“It’s just the pleasure of getting to spend time with someone who isn’t you.”

Brian made a mental note to remember that next time Roger attempted to rope him into listening to some new song that was no doubt going to be mildly inappropriate. “Ha ha” he muttered, deadpan, before picking himself up and making his way to the kitchen to brew some tea, realising that now he too was in fact quite nervous to meet this newcomer they had decided to let live in their house without ever meeting the man first. Well, as he had said to roger, at least they knew his name and they could double check he wasn’t a murderer later, if, of course, he didn’t do the murdering before they’d had the chance. Brian was sure it could all be fine, he mostly echoed rogers belief that if they saw too much of each other they might just go absolutely crazy and so in the end it was probably best to have someone calmer to sit down and talk to rather than clean up after. The kitchen walls had some sort of awful brown paisley wallpaper that was now noticeably damp from the steam caused by the kettle, the kind of problem you would ask the landlord to fix if you weren’t late for the very first rent payment.

Whilst he waited for the kettle to boil he let his mind drift away to wonder what the new guy would be like, he knew he couldn't be worse than loving with Roger. Although he wouldn't mind at all if he wasn't, Brian secretly longed for him to be reserved and polite, the kind of person who would join in with Roger's antics but only to help Brian not be dragged into them alone. He was going to help tidy the flat, spend a maximum of an hour on hair and makeup (but no less than 15 minutes or he might just be ashamed to leave the house with him) and use a coaster for his drinks on hardwood surfaces. So maybe Brian had planned the perfect picture of a roommate in his head, that didn't mean he would be at all disappointed if he wasn't exactly the way he wanted him to be.

The whistle of the boiling water jolted him out of his train of thought; he moved from his fairly comfortable one-knee-up lounging position against the counter and poured himself a perfectly sized cup of tea, not like the weak rubbish Roger makes him, taking extra care to be spiteful and not make a second cup.

Brian added the wallpaper to his mental list of things to be done (now scraping the floor) and grabbed his mug of tea managing to only slightly scald his hands. He had just enough time to reread the course specification and allocate ten minutes to existential panic or song writing, the perfect hour to wind down before-

there was a loud and rhythmic knock causing Roger to screech and Brian to spill half a cup of scalding tea all down his white trousers at his own dismay.

Early. Of course he had to be early, he couldn't be late or on time or five minutes either way but no, he just had to be early. This Freddie guy had better be worth a trip into the city and £5 he really didn't have on him to spend on new trousers. And so approaching was the whirlwind of a man, Freddie Mercury!

As Brian opened the door with a painful slowness, he seemed to fill it almost instantly amidst the odd apology for the obscene amount of luggage he held. His hair was long and silky to go with the fashion, his clothes were too; bright and sparkly and all the right curves in all the right places. But of course the most noticeable thing about his bizarrely foreign face was his teeth. Brian felt awful for looking as Freddie hurried to remove his smile and cover up his overbite, nodding to an ever more amused Brian. It was plain to see that he was beautiful and a one of a kind mix of energy and reservedness. He was exciting and he was certainly making an impression.

“Bloody Hell Bri, I thought we had ages left why didn't you tell me he was here!” Roger reappeared for the last time with a slightly more even eyeliner and a sudden look of awe on his face. “Well- uh… I'm Roger and you're… not what I was expecting,” he let out a soft chuckle as he too made the mistake of keeping his eyes on Freddie's teeth for longer than was polite and longer than Freddie was keen on. He shrugged it off by turning to his bags, lifting two of the four over his shoulders and proclaiming “which one's mine then dear?”

Freddie Mercury had never felt so far from home, he was sure the boys were nice, they had promise, but they weren't his- not yet at least. Every few minutes of throwing his clothes into a pile in the wardrobe he had to pick out a particularly glam item and look in the mirror just to remind himself that no matter how far away from everything he knew, he was Freddie Fucking Mercury and he was here to be big. He looked in the mirror and somehow (with the addition of a swig from his handy travel gin) he could see a talented musician, an artist and a man who was going to be amazing and happy and bright… if only he waited just a few weeks to find that in this room rather than the one next to Kash's.

When his two gym bags, one suitcase and one shoulder purse for men were empty and the contents happily strewn across the floor he made the journey out into the living room. There was Brian, who he noticed was largely taller than the other (who he assumed must be Roger) and had much more of a sensible air to him; although ,of course, an air of sensibility really didn't mean anything about a man's character.

Brian appeared to be making a cup of tea, so naturally he asked for one before throwing himself down on the sofa and allowing his robe to fall of his shoulders and reveal his scandalous silk shirt to flash over his chest like the rich showing off their posh tablecloth. “Of course mate. Roger might get one too if he gets off his arse!” He called the second part into the midst of the flat hoping that Roger would finally take it upon himself to leave the room properly and massively impose himself as usual. Thankfully the promise of tea and new company redirected the man's entire body out of the door, leaving it wide open behind him.

Now that this was Freddie's first proper impression of Roger he had to say firstly that he was impressed and secondly that he would be borrowing that blazer the moment Dog's back was turned. The pink suspenders too if he wasn't careful; if he kept on dressing like this he would have to start calling him Rainbow, it was a darned sight less boring than 'Roger’ anyhow. “Tea please Bri!” He quipped, grabbing the mug just as Brian finished pouring and leaving a shocked and disappointed stare at his back. Putting his leg up against the doorframe he said “I'm Roger.”

“Yes ,darling, you said, I hope you're usually more talented at conversation,” Freddie fired back, leaving just enough joyful enthusiasm so as to not alienate he flatmates with the first sentence.

Brian squeezed past a stunned Roger and placed himself on the other side of the frame: “I like him.” Roger grimaced and gave Brian a grin and then a gentle but malicious shove; Freddie watched from the sidelines, smiling with only a hint of regret at his clear face.

“So then Freddie, what makes you tick?” Roger posed as he flicked through the book Brian had just thrown onto the table. “Me? Oh everything and anything, find me the right tune and I'll hum along,” Roger seemed fairly contented with that answer, awarding it a small nod. But before he could respond Brian had leant out of his sofa corner and turned to Freddie, “but really, what sort of things do you like? I haven't even asked what course you're doing?”

“Oh well if you must know its graphic art or something of the sort,” he laughed lightly gesturing away in an attempt to avoid any intense conversation he was sure he wasn't prepared for. “Don't ask me all the questions, tell me something about you?”

[kokichi-and-co-imagine-blog]

If the V3 cast were to play Monster Prom, who would each character go for?

This is like, my third time trying to write this? I don’t know why it’s taken so many tries; it probably just has to do with getting cut off in the middle of the thought I was on. This may go a little more in depth then you thought it would, but that’s just because I want this to be as thorough as possible.

If you’re interested in Monster Prom, I recommend either buying it or just watching a playthrough of the game before reading this. There are going to be spoilers for certain routes along with secret endings that you can get, so… there. Now that I’ve been super transparent about what this entails, let’s get started.

V3 Dating Some Monsters!

Since this is a MULTIPLAYER DATING SIM, here are the groups of people I think would probably play against each other:GAME 1 -Angie, Himiko, Tenko, TsumugiGAME 2 -Kirumi, Kokichi, Kiibo, KaitoGAME 3 -Shuichi, Kaede, Rantaro, RyomaGAME 4 -Korekiyo, Maki, Miu, Gonta

We’ll talk about each game from top to bottom, ok?

Himiko would be player one after everyone insisted that she gets it (”Nyehhh, what a pain, I have to choose first?”). After picking Brian (Green) because he looked super tired, she waited for everyone else. Angie ended up being player two, and went as Vicky (Blue) because of how cute and happy she looked. Tenko chose Amira (Red) afterward because she seemed like she wouldn’t take crap from anybody along with the fact that she was the only girl left to choose from. Tsumugi was left with Oz (Yellow), but she didn’t mind it much; she thought his simplistic design was perfect for her personality.

Himiko didn’t really go for anyone in particular on her playthrough, although she got the most events with Polly. She did seem to like Valerie (The shopkeeper) but didn’t know that she was romanceable. At the end of the game, Himiko ended up going to prom by herself, and had a good time.

Angie went for Miranda because of how devoted she seemed to be to her kingdom! It was very impressive, and she didn’t bat an eye when she ended up getting the throne ending! Nothing like releasing a kraken to sneak a fish man into the school. (Tenko was a little concerned by Angie’s decisions through this route though, and kept an eye on her for awhile.)

Tsumugi was the only person in the group to try and romance a male, and even then, it was because she already heard of a certain secret ending with Liam- “Liam The Weeb.” She was super excited that they put a character in a game that you could see develop a love for something she has, and also had a good laugh when she muttered to herself about him requiring yaoi hands. After successfully getting it at the end, she already had been thinking of fanfiction ideas for a continuation of this route.

Tenko tried to get with Vera! Unfortunately, she wasn’t the best at reading the situations, and her stats weren’t high enough, not to mention everyone else kept getting a table with her at lunch! How was she supposed to be stepped on with affection by the powerful snake lady?!? When she was turned down at prom, she felt her heart break a little bit, but attacked Himiko with a hug saying that she would be fine as long as the little mage was there.

Before anyone could decide who would be player one, Kokichi took a chance to be Oz, but named him Ligma because Kiibo would inevitably ask the question of, “Why would you name yourself Ligma?” and he was absolutely ready to laugh at his response to the epidemic of ligma. Kirumi went next, choosing Amira because she “seems like a capable young lady.” Kiibo got Brian before Kaito could object to playing a girl, but the astronaut soon got his second wind by saying that girl power would trump the guys. He held his hand out to Kirumi for a high five, which she hesitantly accepted. 

“Ohhhh, I’ve heard how hard it is to get Vera! Don’t worry Kaito, there’s no way you cou-”

“I’M GONNA FUCK A SNAKE WOMAN AND NONE OF YOU CAN STOP ME.”

This is probably the most chaotic of the games due to Kokichi being able to egg on Kaito with no problem. Kokichi also decided to go for Vera, making it that much harder for Kaito. Kaito almost never got the lunch events with Vera, while Kokichi had his own agenda.

“You’re buying a used tampon? I know you’re messed up, but GOD, that’s a whole other level.”

Little did Kaito know that Kokichi had started the cult ritual secret ending, and was planning to finish it. After fumbling around with her and failing to live up to Vera’s expectations, Kaito got turned down at prom, and was pissed when Kokichi got the secret ending! Why hadn’t he been paying attention to what the midget of the group was doing?! He wasn’t sure, but Kokichi was having a good time cackling and “reassuring” Kaito that he was too dumb and not logical enough to have gotten her route anyways.

Kirumi liked how Liam carried himself, and was more than happy to try romancing him. She seemed to have relaxed while playing this game despite the constant bickering of the grapes in the room. With no failed events, Kirumi went to prom with Liam, and appreciated how secretly funny he was under his hipster demeanor.

Kiibo was being crushed constantly by Kokichi and Kaito after making the grave mistake of sitting between them. He did his best not to let that get to him, but he was distracted for the majority of the game because of him. Before he could choose the last question of the personality quiz at the beginning, his hand was knocked and he accidentally got started on Damien’s route. He spent the majority of the time asking Kirumi questions about if it was normal to be that angry and destructive. He was especially concerned about how Damien had dead bodies in his home! However, he successfully took the demon to prom.

(After his failure, Kaito spent hours playing the game and trying to get all the endings possible. He ended up getting stuck on romancing Valerie.)

From the very beginning of this game, Shuichi and Kaede promised each other that they wouldn’t get in each other’s way, and would help each other should special events requiring the extra boosts in affection come up. Rantaro was happy to do his own thing along with Ryoma. This was probably the calmest group of people to play the game.

Rantaro chose Oz before others could, just changing the name to his own so that no one would get confused. Shuichi chose Amira, but Kaede asked if she could change the name for him without him looking. When he eventually turned back, he was named “Sweetchi

Rantaro decided he liked how excitable Polly was, and how every event with her was like an adventure. He liked being a part of her party scientist shenanigans, and watching her tell a sugar daddy to marry a llama. Which he did. He got the secret Party Science ending with her, and was super calm. Originally though, before dating Polly, he really hoped that Aaravi The Slayer was romanceable.

Kaede accidentally started the Blobert route, which made everyone’s day (”you can date… a blob with a hat?” “You’re just jealous of his hat, aren’t you?”). Getting to give everyone ridiculously specific greeting cards, including a corpse. Regardless, she was super happy to hear how much everyone loves Blobert, and decided that he would always be her favorite. (Shuichi was taking some mental notes through this playhthrough.)

Shuichi ended up going to prom with Miranda as a ghost. It was an accident that he even got on her route, and he still wanted to at least have a successful run. He went to the shop and saw the ghost costume, he was too interested to not buy it. Going through all the cutscenes, he thought Liam getting frustrated was a little cute (Though he wouldn’t dare admit that to anyone) and was happy when he managed to go to prom as a spooky little guy!

Ryoma saw the gentleness in Scott’s heart, and was taken by it. he wanted Scott to be the happiest boy in the world and stay unaware of the hardships that come with life. He ended up successfully going to prom with the werewolf, and was surprised at how fun it was to play a game with other people at the same time. He could probably get used to this.

“I don’t care what fuckin’ player I am, titless- just lease me the fire girl because she’s SMOKIN’ like yours truly!”

“... I think I’m already regretting playing this game with you.”

After Miu made a big deal out of it, she ended up with Amira. Maki chose Vicky, changing the name to her own. Korekiyo chose Brian, but named him Shiso Asobi. once again, no one knew what was with the ridiculous name. Gonta was left with Oz, but he had no problem with that! He did, however, have problems with changing his name. His hands were a bit too big for the keyboard.

“REVERSE ROMANIAN WILKINSON? I don’t know what she’s on, but I fuckin’ LOVE her!”Miu was all over Polly and how ridiculous she could be, including her Reverse Romanian Wilkinson ending. She wasn’t sure what the penguin mask was for along with the guacamole and bag of beads, but just imagining what it was getting her hot all over. She successfully pulled it off, and then proceeded to bother Kiibo about trying it with her.

Maki was attracted to the way Scott acted like a certain astronaut she knew, so she just couldn’t ignore him. getting the correct choices on his route was super easy for her, and she smiled just enough to get Miu on her case for a little bit. At the end of the game, she wondered if she’s been wanting a man who’s essentially like a puppy.

Gonta didn’t want to romance anyone! He just wanted to have the best time he could making people happy. Unfortunately for him, his actions brought him to the orgy ending. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he was asking everyone around him why they weren’t wearing clothes. Miu was yelling angrily because she hadn’t been informed that such a route even existed, and Maki just sighed out of frustration. Korekiyo wasn’t surprised given the rest of the games content, but he found humor in Gonta being the one to get such an ending.

Korekiyo wasn’t originally going after anyone. He just wanted to experience what it was like to play a game about dating people with, well... other people. However, when he basically summoned a powerful monster from the totem of zgord, he changed his playing style to fit accordingly. With a high enough charm stat and being able to take a tentacle monster to the prom, everyone was slightly disturbed, besides Miu. She just wished that she could be a part of that action.

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E7 (Feb 27, 2018)

There were a few more (vague) references to the first campaign in this episode than usual, so I’ve tried to keep them non-specific/spoiler-free for folks who are still catching up.

Tonight’s guests are Marisha Ray and Liam O’Brien!

Announcements: Marisha’s feeling better but now Matt’s sick (general consensus is that he’ll be feeling well enough to DM on Thursday); Vox Machina: Origins number 5 will be released on March 7; Laura and Travis will be at Emerald City Comic Con, where you can pick up a physical copy of Vox Machina: Origins number 1 at the Dark Horse booth; ECCC Critter meetups will be on Thursday March 1st at 7PM for a live watch of the show and then March 3rd from 7PM to midnight, both at the Raygun Lounge; the C2E7 podcast is available this Thursday; shout-out to the awesome mods in the community; tomorrow at 11AM Pacific, Brian will be hosting a stream with Sideshow Collectibles, unveiling a statue (tragically not of Sam’s body).

@critrolestats​ for this episode:

Beau has rolled the most natural 20s this campaign. Her total is 13: one in episode one, and then two in each subsequent session.

Khary’s opening roll was the first time a guest player’s first roll was a natural one; Kit Buss was the only guest to start out with a natural 20.

There have already been 18 references to Judas Priest’s “Breaking the Law” in the campaign. 13 of them happened in this last episode.

Khary mentioned to Liam ages ago that he was about to start DMing for his daughter, which is when they started trying to get schedules to match up for his guest appearance.

Liam’s having fun getting specific with spell components rather than going for the “Apple remote” approach of using a focus to cast spells. The descriptions will mainly focus on more novel spells (he won’t still be describing Chromatic Orb in detail at level 20).

The Geek and Sundry Facebook/Instagram has the video of Khary destroying the cursed die. The pieces were stolen from Dani’s desk over the weekend. The plot thickens.

Marisha talks about how it can be fun to set yourself up for failure a bit, like with the ball bearings. Everyone decides on the next T-shirt: “Critical Role: Embrace the Failure”.

Liam has a bucket list of spells for Caleb, some of which he doesn’t want to mention yet because they’re story-related, but he does really want to get his hands on Mordenkainen’s Magnificent Mansion.

Marisha felt a little warm and fuzzy inside knowing that Beau nearly had her own practically-goldfish moment. She was less concerned about the fall damage than what was potentially at the bottom of the pit.

Gif of the Week: ♪It’s DnD Beyoooooond!♪

The reason Caleb and Nott are together is because “they’re two pieces of garbage floating around in the world like plastic bags”. They were in a little podunk town jail; it wasn’t a major thing, but it was where they met. They both have no place to go. Caleb has “things that he sticks to, but his moral code is dicey. Survival is good, getting by is good, breathing.” Everyone’s still figuring out the relationships, but Liam has been surprised at how much Caleb cares about Nott’s safety.

Both agree that the short rest was worth it.

Beau is surprised by her own fighting ability. She’s always had some natural skill as a reckless fighter and basic training from the Cobalt Soul monks, and Marisha’s been describing her attacks that way: wild haymakers, etc.. “No one’s going to start as fucking Bruce Lee.” But now she can take those solid natural instincts and build upon them, trying to show a progression. Even Marisha was surprised when she succeeded in catching the arrow out of the air.

Liam gets asked who smelled worse: Caleb or Vax in the armor. Pre-year break, Vax smelled “weirder”.

Beau has theories about Caleb’s shut-down last episode. “Beau has Percy Syndrome: she thinks she’s the smartest person in the room right now.” “Caleb is not dying to know much about any of you fuckers.” Combination of not knowing them too well yet and wanting to keep his head down.

Fanart of the Week: Shakäste and Nott!

Another winner: Vox Machina: An Exandrian Musical! Everyone’s been listening to it on repeat. Marisha: “Matt and I cried so much.”

Beau didn’t see the rescue of Nott as risking her life to save her. “She has teenage arrogance, ‘I’m going to live forever!’” She’s driven by cockiness at this point. She knew she could close the gap, so she thought she was the one who could do it.

Had any of them thought about killing the baby manticore? Beau threw out the idea of selling the baby manticore, but she was mainly concentrating on getting in and out and not dying. Caleb thought that if they could kill everything in the room without dying themselves, they should do that.

Brian asks about the grey-morality tone of the new campaign. Marisha talks about the balance you have to strike, “almost a metagame element”, of wanting to be a team. Liam points out that character flaws introduce an element of unpredictability. Marisha notes that the same character qualities can often shift from "good” to “bad” and back, depending on the situation. Marisha: “Tonally, Vox Machina acted emotionally a lot more so far. We don’t have that yet, that connection.” Liam: “It feels like we all want to mess with the system a little more and come at it with a sideways approach, just to see what happens.” Marisha describes how they set the tone with Vox Machina earlier, and how that gives them a little leeway in the new campaign. Brian zeroes in on the notion of “the human heart in conflict with itself” being a great source of drama and excitement for a viewer. “As you guys get closer in the game, those stakes get higher.”

The Nott-Caleb relationship was a last-second decision that “has complicated the fuck out of what I’ve got going on,” but Liam’s delighted to have that complication, because that kind of thing is the heart of the game for them as actors. He points out how episode 85′s massive emotional impact was the perfect example of that kind of messiness.

What Beau doesn’t like about Molly is the same stuff that Beau doesn’t especially like about herself. Marisha suspects it’s the sort of thing that can develop into mutual respect in the long run.

Liam gets asked about Caleb’s moment at the end of the episode. Marisha: “Answer! Answer! You never answer shit!” Liam brings up how Taliesin’s talked about how Matt will take the bare-bones story they provide him and flesh it out in a surprising way. Marisha: “No one’s backstories or secrets are safe from Matt Mercer at this moment.”

Talks Machina After Dark:

Fave tracks from Vox Machina: An Exandrian Musical: “Burn”, “Animus”, “Dear Kaylie”, “It’s Quiet in Town”, “The Room Where it Happens”.

Sometimes Matt and Marisha will go over specific events in the battle where a single moment was clutch. Nott going in when she did saved Fjord from a full round of attacks at advantage. Beau saved Nott by jumping in even with the attack of opportunity, because with her 1 HP, the next full round of attacks would’ve killed her. Jester didn’t have the speed to get to Nott, so Beau saved her by getting her closer to Jester, but then Jester went down... and Fjord succeeded on his wisdom saving throw, which let him save her so she could save Nott. No matter how messy things seem in the moment, laying them out like that show how it can all work out.

Note-taking in D&D! Liam, on trying to decipher scribbles post-game: “Either slow down when you write or don’t bother.” Without the pressure of the cameras, Marisha would do things differently. In the last campaign, she had one book for specific enemies she could refer back to, but fell off on keeping it up around the time they were mainly just fighting specific dragons rather than dungeon-crawl stuff. She currently takes notes chronologically, with specific symbols/annotations to indicate names of cities, NPCs, plot points, etc. Liam: “What are all the dickbutts for?” Marisha: “That’s Laura. She keeps stealing my notebook. ...no, that’s not true.” Marisha brings up some advice she got: keep your notes concise and make them look interesting; she also does doodles now that can draw her attention while flipping through and looking for something in particular.

Theories on Shakäste? Liam: “I think he’s the wind.” Marisha: “I think he’s what we might be in 20 years if we all live.”

“What were your immediate thoughts after Nott stabbed the manticore baby?” Marisha: “The fuck?! (...) Just because it was necessary doesn’t mean it was any less brutal.” Liam: “Caleb has seen Nott do wild, unpredictable things that have a high rate of success. She is a Golden Snitch. It just kind of works out.”