#brutal for logan and to make it seem like he had a choice...

[takkamek]

logical business decision as alex is more likely to score points but they're screwing over logan whose seat is already in danger and his confidence will be worse because of this. not to mention the tension this causes in the team, no matter how alex will perform, which--

they're also putting all this unnecessary pressure on alex to perform well enough to justify this move. what if he doesn't get a point, or bins it this weekend? then his confidence and reputation will take a hit as well.

so williams must be super confident that they're going to score points here, because i don't see why else they would risk this move

[splatashahowlett]

missing piece

logan (james) howlett x reader

the record player was playing One piece at a time, your favorite song, occasionally letting out a soft sound of scratching against the vinyl. the bar was crowded and everybody seemed to have a good time. the 70's may become your favorite decade. you've been alive for over a hundred years now but you liked everything about this era; the music, the clothes and the recklessness of it.

you were currently seated at the bar, drinking whatever the bartender had offered you. the guy had been hitting on you all evening, and you figured that free drinks couldn't hurt since your healing factor would keep you from getting drugged. you liked the attention anyway, your ex lover had disappeared on a random tuesday and never came back home. it had been four years since you had last seen him, you weren't mad at him anymore, but more at yourself for thinking a man could keep his promises. so some compliments were always welcomed.

you were watching people dance, the festive atmoshpere filling a void in your chest. whenever you felt alone you would go to a bar, or a pub just to feel something. in those places, time seemed to stop, you could be invisible. nobody cared about you or asked anything from you. sometimes you would dance with a random girl or guy and end up in their motel room just to sneak out the second they fell alseep. you were conscious that this lifestyle wasn't for everybody. in fact, you didn't enjoy it in the slightest. but you didn't have a choice. you didn't have any family anymore, and the only person that counted took off 4 years ago. you didn't work and your only hobby was drinking. you weren't living, but barely surviving. but with time you get used to it, right?

right as when you were about to get up to dance, someone sat next to you. too close for your liking. you turned your head and were met with a drunk looking guy, staring at you like you were some piece of meat. you gave him a look that meant "get the fuck out of here and leave me alone" but he didn't seem to want to comply.

"hello pretty girl, need some company?" he said, or at least that's what you understood. his breath hit your nose and you almost threw up; your heightened senses could really be a pain in the ass sometimes.

"go fuck yourself" you said, walking toward the back door. the guy following you.

"I think I'll need some help with that, my girl" he said, trying to catch up with you. you ignored him, or at least he thought so, and went through the back door, making sure he was still behind you. once you found yourself in a small alley, you grabbed him by the collar and pushed him brutally against the wall.

"I am not your girl" you threatened. the dickhead tried to answer but with your hands on his throat the task seemed more difficult than usual. you hated this petname, it reminded you of things you wanted to forget. you let go of him, letting him fall to the ground and kicked him in the stomach. that wasn't necessary but he deserved it.

you went back inside, planning on gathering your things and then finding a place to sleep. you folded your jacket on your arm and put your pack of cigarettes in your pocket. but as you turned toward the door, your heart stopped. a familiar face looking at you from the crowd. at first you thought you were hallucinating, the fucker was dead. you hoped he would be. it would hurt less. but when he started coming closer you scoffed.

you couldn't do it without a drink, so you sat back and asked for straight tequila. you missed this vanishing feeling the night procured you.

logan sat next to you and asked for a drink. you refused to look at him. you wanted to punch him in the face, alright maybe you were still a little mad at him. seeing him here, and so close to you made you mad. you wanted to kill and kiss him.

"I missed you" he said, looking afar. out of all the things he could have said you weren't expecting this. you scoffed and tightened your grip on your drink.

"shut your damn mouth" you gritted through your teeth, still holding onto your drink for dear life. you had imagined what it would be like to see him again and promised to yourself that you would tell him you moved on and leave him speechless. you never thought you still loved him so deeply. you hated how he made you feel, you hated feeling weak. but you loved everything else about him, and if feeling vulnerable was the price to pay to be with him then you wouldn't think twice about it.

"I didn't have a choice" he added, this made your blood boil. you knew he was telling the truth and you had already forgave him, you just needed to hear him say it. you didn't say anything, didn't ask about the reason of his departure. you kept your mouth shut, hoping he would take the hint and leave. no you didn't want him to leave, you wanted him to think that you wanted him to leave.

"I’m sorry” he muttered. this was your last straw, your glass broke between you fingers, shards of glass flying all over the counter and cutting into your hand. you jumped, startled at your own doing. logan reached for your hand immediately but you moved it away before he could even brush it.

"fuck you" was the last thing you said before running to the bathroom. your healing factor was already pushing the glass out of your flesh but it still hurt as hell.

“let me help you” you hadn’t even hear him coming in. you smiled, amused at the situation. you terribly wanted to give him your hand but your pride told you otherwise.

“why are you here?” you whispered, almost scared that if you spoke louder he would disappear.

“I told you, I miss you”.

“of course you do, that's why you came back so quickly” you said, washing the blood off your hand. “I just know you were bored to death without me" you joked, trying to ease the tension.

logan approached and slowly put his hands on your waist, your back facing him. he then delicately planted his chin on your shoulder. “I know you won’t believe me when I tell you I did this to protect you and that’s fair but I need you by my side, I need my girl” you swore you heard a sob in his voice. you looked up, staring at your reflection in the mirror, you could see logan’s head next to yours he was looking at you. this was the first time you’ve look into his eyes since he left. and they felt like home.

you turned around slowly, facing him. you hands claimed back their place on either side of his face. wiping his tears. seeing logan cry was rare, extremely rare. you felt your heart broke at the sight. he put his hands on yours and closed his eyes, enjoying how your touch felt like after so many years. nothing changed, not his love for you nor what he felt around you.

“let me take you home” he begged

“where?”

“doesn’t matter, home is whenever I’m with you”

you knew that your james was telling the truth, and you knew that you still loved each other.

"I need time, james" you answered, even if your mind was already made you had some self respect. you were about to say something else but logan beat you to it:

“I love you” he breathed.

you kissed him passionately, making up for all the lost kisses.

"I love you most"

you were still upset about what he did, but at the end of the day, you knew he did it for a good reason and that it hurt him maybe even more than it did you, and you certainly couldn’t imagine life without him.

you both cried into the kiss, silently promising to always be on each other's side.

"come on, let's get out of here"

[ascalonianlightbringer]

Last time in the core GW2 story/headcanon liveblog, Tybalt and Gwen decided to try a dungeon pitch in and help Rytlock contain the ghostly upheaval caused by Eir's venture into the Ascalonian catacombs. Tybalt advised Gwen that Rytlock would remember she's Logan's friend, and find it suspicious if she was her usual pleasant self, so Gwen should be a bit prickly.

Gwen embraced the role of Prickly Ascalonian with enthusiasm as they ventured through the catacombs with two more Charr and a grumpy Asura from the Priory. After skirting various dangers, the group had just found Eir.

At this point, Eir bursts out, "Rytlock, what are you doing here?"

Rytlock, reasonably enough, snaps back, "I came to stop you from inciting a full-scale ghost rampage. What are you doing here?"

Eir explains that she's looking for Magdaer, the magic sword of King Adelbern. Rytlock says he destroyed it to create the Foefire. Eir thinks it survived and can be found.

Rytlock shifts his weight. Now even more clearly on edge, he says, "You are following a foolish human legend."

Gwen doesn't know this one, but she lifts her chin defiantly anyway. The walls feel a bit like they might crumble down on them all at any moment, and she keeps an eye out for any stray ghosts—her tormented people, she remembers. Adelbern had been driven mad by the brutality and atrocities of the Charr invasion, but he'd still unilaterally decided the fate of all his people without consulting them in any way. She's not exactly on his side, either.

Royals, she thinks, but here, it's an echo of her usual disdain.

Eir glances between Rytlock and Gwen, and says, "You of all people should know the power of legends. You bear Magdaer's twin, Sohothin. It was Rurik's sword."

To Gwen, Rytlock seems plainly defensive. "What if I do? Adelbern's sword is no more, just like his nation."

"Oh, have you managed to take Ebonhawke yet?" Gwen says sweetly. "I hadn't heard."

Both Eir and Rytlock look at her with some impatience. Eir seems a little amused; Rytlock points Sohothin right at her. Gwen looks back, unimpressed; she doesn't think he'd be stupid enough to kill an Ascalonian hero of Kryta in the catacombs, without any cause but words.

"Maybe I should gut you instead of Logan," he growls.

Gwen just looks at him, her head tilted a little. Tybalt coughs.

"I, uh, don't think that'd be a good idea, tribune. She's an advocate of the crown of Kryta, so it'd be bad for the peace talks and all, and I'd lose my deals with the fruit sellers in Queensdale—"

Rytlock scoffs, but when Eir clears her throat, he lowers Sohothin and turns back to her.

"Then let us go to the top of the stairs and see for ourselves," she says calmly.

Or at least, it seems calmly. Eir has a quiet charisma and assurance that Gwen likes. But after they fight off a bunch of ghosts, Eir moves forward to lead with Gwen and looks down at her.

"You're Logan's friend, aren't you?"

Gwen sighs. "Yes." After a moment, she adds, "He hasn't said anything against you."

Eir lowers her voice. "Perhaps I was unwise to come here."

Gwen is essentially thinking "no shit" but she gives the canon response, "Only time well tell."

Sure enough, at the top of the stairs, they find the broken remains of a sword, complete with ghostly trails. It doesn't look completely irreparable, at least if it were an ordinary sword; Gwen has a good eye for that kind of weaponry (i.e. she took weaponsmithing). Before they can go far, though, a ghostly lieutenant appears to defend Adelbern and the sword.

Gwen nearly takes a step back as the lieutenant orders them to leave and stop disturbing Adelbern. He follows it up with "You leave me no choice. Attack! Protect the king!"

This is a harder fight than most, but Eir's help makes it easier, and the Priory Asura is able to heal himself from a nasty-looking injury.

"Better get that looked at when we're done," says Gwen.

Eir is focused on the sword, and turns excitedly to Rytlock. "The broken sword! It's the twin to your own!"

Rytlock points at a tall ghost coalescing across the chamber. "Worry more about the sword's master. Look there!"

"I sense Sohothin's presence," the new ghost says, solidifying into the figure of an older man—already old, presumably, when he died. His crown proclaims his identity. "Rurik, my son! You've returned!"

Rytlock steps forwards. "Your son is dead," he says flatly. "So is your kingdom. Leave us!"

The Asura pipes up, "There is some debate about the continuity of—"

Even Gwen, who is annoyed that the Charr conveniently overlook Ebonhawke in their pretenses to total victory after spending over 200 years trying to destroy it, is like ... shhh.

The joy in the ghost's face vanishes, and his features twist in rage.

"Foul creature! Your entire race will pay! Even now, my champions prepare to invade the surface. You will fall before the might of Master Ranger Nente, deadly Kasha Blackblood, and the lovers, Ralena and Vassar. We'll destroy you as you destroyed us!"

"We're not destroyed," Gwen says quietly, but Adelbern is too focused on Rytlock to listen, if he's even capable of it.

"You frighten no one with your meaningless threats," Rytlock growls to the king. "We've killed you before; we'll do it again!"

Gwen, despite having no love for kings, glowers at him. Adelbern just bursts into a mad cackle before disappearing.

"Now you've angered them," Eir says.

"They were already angry," says Rytlock, with a brief glance at Gwen. "Now we must find his champions and silence them."

He does explain (for a Rytlock value of "explain") that killing "the Sorcerer King's" champions will bring Adelbern out into the open for good.

"Who was Kasha Blackblood?" asks one of the stranger Charr. "Sounds creepy."

"This whole place is creepy," says the Asura.

Even Gwen can't disagree there.

"Necromancy is disgusting. Kasha Blackblood was one of Adelbern's grotesque practitioners of the art," announces Rytlock.

Gwen rolls her eyes. To her surprise, though, it's Tybalt who breaks in this time.

"Can't say I know much about Kasha," he says, undoubtedly lying, "but that's a bit—um—well, I've got a friend who dabbles in necromancy, more than dabbles, really. A good friend, actually, a sylvari—"

"Sylvari are different," says the other unknown Charr.

Gwen is just wondering if Tybalt's "friend" is another Order member, and is surprised he'd mention them, if so. But he's engaging enough to have friends outside it as well, she supposes.

"You have to stay focused on her, not her minions," Rytlock carries on, "or she'll siphon your life away."

Gwen would be all for it if it didn't mean her life. And Tybalt's. Maybe the Asura's.

He goes on to explain that "the lovers" are Vassar and Ralena Stormbringer, a mesmer and an elementalist who were strong together, and thus should be divided for victory. Gwen actually has heard some stories of them, mostly because she was always interested in tales of great mesmers of the past, but she hasn't heard much. Rytlock concludes with a dismissive description of Master Ranger Nente.

"Nente was a ranger, a specialist in cowardice. He hid behind his pets and slaughtered my ancestors with arrows."

"It's so hard when people defend themselves from your massacres," says Gwen.

"Gwen," mutters Tybalt. She's not sure if he means to pull back or if it's just for show.

Rytlock also explains a little about Magdaer and how it was forged in Orr and Adelbern broke it to create the Foefire. One of the Charr asks what that has to do with the sword Rytlock carries.

"Sohothin is twin to Adelbern's sword," says Rytlock. "His son Rurik wielded it once. It's mine now."

"How did you end up with Sohothin?" asks the Asura.

"That's none of your concern," Rytlock says shortly.

They all examine the remnants of Magdaer before deciding to take the westwards route. They have to fight numerous ghosts on the way there, then arrive to find Master Range Nente on a pillar in a good-sized room. He immediately addresses Rytlock.

"Your desire to destroy still unsatisfied, beast?" he shouts. "Burning Ascalon not enough for you?"

Rytlock doesn't really give an answer to that, but says, "As long as you stalk us, we'll fight you tooth and claw."

You're the ones who've stalked us, thinks Gwen.

"By Melandru's will, I will rend you from this world, Charr!" says Nente.

If only.

But Gwen glances at Tybalt to make sure he's well placed. He is, and though the battle is much harder than any previous ones, they're able to defeat Nente.

"With valor, we have won the day!" cries Eir.

"Not yet," Rytlock tells her. "We need to find the other champions."

Without waiting for Gwen to take the lead again, he heads back to the central chamber, which has passages north and east as well. Gwen follows, with a backwards glance at the ghostly remains of Nente.

Under her breath, she mouths, Go in peace.

They end up taking the east route out of the central chamber, then heading north into what looks like a cathedral. The atmosphere, as usual, is eerie, with candles flickering and green light encasing the upper level of the chamber.

A ghostly woman materializes, as expected.

"Why are you here?" she asks, sounding considerably more sane than the other ghosts. "This is the land of ghosts."

"Stand down, specter. We seek only to protect the living," replies Eir, civilly enough.

Rytlock turns on Eir. "Don't chat with her, Eir! Dispatch her!"

Kasha immediately attacks, calling on ghosts to defend her, casting wells, and summoning minions that regularly throw people back. At one point, Gwen is launched forcefully by one she's fighting with her swords, all the way back into a glowing green circle so cold that she nearly drops her main sword. She has to scramble up and launch herself away.

Once Kasha is defeated, she snarls, "I curse you to the Mists!" as she vanishes.

Even Rytlock seems thoughtful as he looks at the spot where she had been.

"She fought well," he says at last. "Her trials over this world are over."

Gwen looks at him in very genuine surprise. She says nothing, but mentally files away the remark for consideration.

They briefly confer about strategy for taking down two champions at once, since Ralena and Vassar are the last, and Rytlock says they're more powerful together. Gwen, to his surprise, volunteers to distract Vassar; she's the most suited to countering another mesmer. Tybalt immediately says he'll help her, joined by the Priory Asura. The others will keep Ralena as far from Vassar as possible and take her out.

It goes basically according to plan, though even with Gwen's magic pouring through her swords and pushing him back, Vassar is a challenge, using her own tricks against her and some she doesn't even know. But between Tybalt, the Asura, her own power, and perhaps the blessing of Lyssa on her, Gwen manages to keep herself standing and Vassar at bay while Rytlock and the other Charr fight off Ralena.

They're still fighting her when Vassar goes down. Gwen, the only melee fighter of her group, spares a moment to make sure they've got the situation under her control, then gives a slight bow to what remains of Vassar. As she does, a slight glitter catches her eye—a pair of rings, by their size, clearly meant for human hands. She's still got enough of bandit Gwen in her to use clones to conceal her hand scooping the rings up and slipping them into her pocket. They're hot to the touch, but she doesn't care; she's seen the Charr systematically destroying Ascalonian artifacts on the way through, and they're not going to get everything.

She murmurs a benediction for Vassar's spirit, then joins the last of the fight against Ralena, who quickly falls to all of them.

With a trace of smugness, Rytlock says, "With all this death, Adelbern's blood must be boiling by now. Perfect chance to deal with him."

"Does he have blood?" says the Asura.

They brace themselves as they return to the core chamber, where Magdaer is still sparking. Adelbern is there, madder than ever.

"What have you done?" he howls.

"Your champions are gone, ghost!" snaps Rytlock. "Just like your son and your kingdom!"

Lyssa's tears, thinks Gwen. She supposes that's what she gets for thinking slightly better of him for a moment; she hadn't really expected him to taunt a ghost his people had driven to madness about the death of his son. Least of all when he'd looted that son's sword.

"We still hold Ebonhawke," she says stubbornly. King or no king, he deserves to know that.

Adelbern, again, seems not even to hear or notice her.

"I will have my vengeance!" he screams. "Join me in death!"

They don't, of course, though he is the most difficult opponent of them all. After he vanishes, the catacombs fall completely silent, and for a moment, they just look at each other. It's hard to feel jubilant—maybe even for Rytlock.

Eir gestures at the broken sword.

"Magdaer is shattered," she says, "but I know a blacksmith who can mend these pieces."

Rytlock whirls around to face her, and now he seems more angered than he'd ever been by Gwen.

"Did you really think that if you got me a sword you'd earn forgiveness?" he demands.

Forgiveness? Gwen thinks. For what?

"For you?" says Eir, sounding puzzled. "The sword would be for Logan."

Gwen starts.

"What?" says Rytlock. "Why would you risk our lives, my life, for that coward?"

"He isn't a coward!" says Gwen hotly.

"I thought it would heal old wounds," says Eir, though her resigned tone makes it clear that she's realized the truth. "It would remind you—"

Even Gwen is a bit puzzled by this line of thinking. She could see the idea of the sword winning Logan over, though Gwen doubts even so fine a gift would succeed, but as for Rytlock—

"Remind me of what, betrayal?" he snarls. "Pah! You've become a sentimental old woman. We're finished here!"

With that, he stalks away, a little belatedly followed by everyone but Gwen and Tybalt.

"I understand why Logan would hate Rytlock," Gwen says at last. "But why does Rytlock hate Logan?"

Eir turns to look down at her, and sighs.

"Mistakes from a lifetime ago, best forgotten. Rytlock's right. I've gotten too sentimental. Too weak."

Gwen's eyes widen.

"A long time ago, I led us into a disaster," Eir goes on. "He blames me. They all do. The thing is, they might be right."

"I'm sure you did what you thought was right," says Tybalt.

Eir just shakes her head. "Come, we should leave. Ultimately, this mission was a failure."

"It's not a failure," says Gwen, with a glance over at where Adelbern had materialized. "We gave these people some peace and made Ashford safer."

Tybalt gives a decided nod. "She's right."

"Yes, but I was stupid to think a sword could slice through the wall between Logan and Rytlock," says Eir.

After a pause, Gwen says, "Should we follow Rytlock and see where he's going?"

"No," says Eir. "He still hates Logan—and now he hates me. I should have left well enough alone."

------

And that's the Ascalonian Catacombs dungeon headcanon! Quite a bit of it comes from the canon dialogue etc, of course, but I wanted to go over it for story purposes anyway.

[maxwell-grant]

One last one for the moment; top five superheroes who definitely AREN'T Pulp Heroes, but could be with a little tweaking?

Oof, that's a hard one. It's a hard one because, again, there ultimately isn't that much separation between the two to the point there's enough of a hard line in there to work with, but I guess the cat's out of the bag now that I've staked claims on there being differences between them.

Okay so, not counting superheroes who are deliberately modeled after actual pulp heroes, so no Tom Strong or Night Raven here. I'm sticking mainly with comic book superheroes (barring one oddball exception) since the medium separation is important), who I think could become pulp heroes with some tweaking.

5: Captain America

Sort of cheating because I already covered it here, but I definitely have to include Captain America in here, especially in the stories they actively go for a "pulp" vibe as well as the earliest ones.

Fun fact about Marvel: As Timely, they actually began life as pulp publishers. Not just pulp publishers, but specializing in some of the sleaziest, ghastliest magazines of the era, and you can bet this carried over to their superheroes. Where as DC's superheroes took inspiration from the big pulp heroes such as The Shadow and Doc Savage, Timely's superheroes seemed instead much more inspired by Weird Tales stories and Poverty Row horror films, and even in the 60s, Marvel never really abandoned their horror roots, the trick was just using them as a baseline to create superheroes. In DC, the world's first contact with superheroes begins with the world looking in wonder at a friendly strongman. In Marvel, it began with the world looking in panicked horror at a flaming monster rampaging through the streets desperately trying to not burn everything it touches. It should come to little surprise then that the majority of characters I'm including in this list are Marvel characters.

People think Captain America's first comics largely consisted of him fighting Nazis left and right, but they were actually much more often based around him encountering monsters and creatures of horror, like the above panel where it looks like Cap's staring down the beginning of Berserk's Eclipse (RIP Miura).

The early Captain America comics pretty much consisted of Kirby dipping his toe into the monster comics he'd make in the 50s which would later bleed into the 60s Marvel entourage. They even tried repackaging Captain America into a horror anthology in the 50s titled "Captain America's Weird Tales", just imagine how different the character would be today if that somehow stuck.

Imagine a world where Steve Rogers never became leader of The Avengers, never got to become the shining beacon of heroism of an entire universe, and instead, when he was unfrosted, he woke up to find a world running rampant with crawling nightmares and Nazi tyranny, and he has no idea what's become of his former sidekick. That definitely sounds like the start of a promising pulp adventure.

4: Namor

Another Timely creation. In Namor's case, he didn't so much encounter horrors from beyond imagination, as much as HE was the terrifying thing beyond us ready to rampage upon mankind, whose first on-screen act consists of the calculated slaughter of a ship full of innocents. The first true villain protagonist of comic books. Not just an anti-hero, a villain intent on wiping out the human race.

And not just a cardboard supervillain, but the beautiful prince of a race of ugly fish monsters, a momma's boy who's doing what he thinks is right by warring with surface dwellers. While Namor's become largely defined by his gargantuan arrogance, here, he's almost childlike, despite being much more brutal and villainous here, spurred on by the whims of his mother, who even acknowledges that Namor had no real reason to kill the divers but did so anyway, and now encourages him to genocide. His mom even tells him "Go now, to the land of white people!", and the very last panel of the story even states he's on a "crusade against white men".

The massacre of explorers at the hands of something beyond their understanding. A monster born of an interracial coupling. A race of fish monsters with bulging eyes, antagonistic towards humanity but are shown to have positive traits just the same. A dash of racism. There is no mistaking The Sub-Mariner's pulp horror influence.

A non-white superhuman warrior born from a Lovecraftian horror story, who gradually moves away from his villainous crusade into becoming more of an anti-hero, never truly putting aside his hatred for humanity, remaining a temperamental, unpredictable outcast, with a strong, palpable undercurrent of anger in his stories. I could very easily buy Namor as having crawled out of a Weird Tales story and I can't think of other superheroes whose origins are as steeped deeply in pulp horror.

3: Doctor Fate

Technically we already have a pulp hero version of Doctor Fate in Doc Fate, and I'll get to him separately, but even besides him, the earliest Doctor Fate stories in particular feel very much like he's a character steeped in the worlds of pulp and pulp horror who decided to put on a superhero costume and show up in comic.

He's got a similar set-up to The Shadow, from the pulp Shadow in the sense that he's a mysterious, eerie crimefighter who dwells as a presence more often than an active character and who kills criminals without remorse, always watching and waiting for the right time to strike as a a wrathful old-testament force of vengeance, and from the radio Shadow due to him using superpowers to fight crime while being accompanied by a smart, fierce love interest.

Originally, Fate was not a sorcerer, but instead a scientist who discovered a way to manipulate atomic structure, of his and other things, thus making it appear that he can do magic (although we never see his face, and he's implied to be thousands of years old, before they settled on the Nabu origin). And going back to Lovecraft, a lot of it appears in the earliest Fate stories. Fate was given powers not by a sorcerer, but an alien worshipped as a god. He barely encounters traditional monsters, but instead contends with hidden races, zombie slaves, abandoned alien monoliths, and half man and half fish creatures. Fate may have actually been the very first pastiche of Lovecraft in pop culture.

And of course we can't forget the gloriousness of Doc Fate pulling an Indiana Jones on us.

2: Wolverine

I don't even think you'd have to tweak Wolverine at all. You'd just have to get him out of the costume and Avengers/X-Men associations (although the X-Men have a substantial background in pulp sci-fi stories like Slan and Odd John, so they aren't really at odds here), maybe tone down his powers a bit and, that's it. Logan's already the kind of character who has such a varied sandbox history, whose powers can lead to so many different scenarios, that it's not a stretch at all to picture Wolverine in the usual pulp hero scenarios.

You can have half-naked Wolverine running around in the jungle with animals Tarzan-style, take him to Savage Land if you wanna throw dinosaurs in there. He's already Marvel's foremost "wandering samurai/cowboy" character which was one of the stock and trade types of the pulps. Western? Done. Samurai? Done. Wuxia? Just put him in China and add a couple extra fantasy elements. Wanna make a sword and sorcery story with him? He already comes with a bunch of knives and savagery and ability to survive grisly injuries. Horror? The MCU is crawling with them, or alternatively, tell a story from the perspective of someone who's being hunted down by Wolverine. Wanna tell a detective/noir/post-apocalypse story? Logan's right there.

Wanna have him crossover with pulp heroes? He's lived through the 1800s and 1900s and traveled all over the world, you could feasibly have him meet up with just about any of them. Logan may actually be the purest example of your question, because he's very much not a Pulp Hero, and yet, he definitely feels like a character who could have been one, at just about any point in the history of pulp magazines. He's perfect for it.

1: Wario

WAAA-okay, look, bear with me for a second here, I'm not just picking Wario because I love oddball choices and he's one of my favorite characters, I got some logic to this.

Okay so, the first question here: is Mario a superhero? While I'm usually adverse to calling characters prominent outside of comic books superheroes (hence why I'm definitely not interested in debating whether Harry Potter or Goku or Link or Frodo are superheroes), I do think it's a pretty shut case that, yes, Mario is a superhero. Superheroes don't just come in the form of skintight crimefighters, right from the start comic books have had varied types of superheroes appearing in comics and comic strips. For example, the "funny animal" superheroes are a type older than superhero comics, and they were arguably not only the most successful type of superhero of the 40s-50s era, but arguably defined trends dominating nonfunny animal superheroes, traits that predated or influenced Captain Marvel as well as Otto Binder's reshaping of Superman that defined much of superhero convention as we know it. It's part of why the question of "Is Sonic a superhero" has a very clear Yes as an answer.

So upon establishing that, yes, funny cartoon characters can be and are superheroes too, is Mario one? Well, I'd say yes. He's got an iconic uniform, he's got superpowers, he goes on fantastical adventures, he is both a nebulously general do-gooder as well as having a clear mission as protector of the Mushroom Kingdom. His adventures span multiple storytelling formats, he's got catchphrases, he even dresses up in Superman's colors and has a Super prefix iconically associated with him. Not a superhero the way we usually think of, but a superhero nonetheless.

And Wario? Well, putting aside Wario-Man who's more of a running gag than anything, Wario does just about everything Mario does. He's got all the traits that define Mario as a superhero short of a Super prefix and the selfless mission (which isn't exactly a rule). He goes around and gets into crazy adventures, he picks up items, beats bad guys, conquers the odds, and gets some kind of prize for it. He's got Mario's physical traits, and Mario's costume, and just about the same name short of a single letter. The caveat being, of course, that he's Wario, and so everything Mario is or does has to be exaggerated to gross extreme.

Mario is paunchy and strong, Wario's round and built like a powerlifter. Mario's got a friendly face and a fluffy mustache, Wario's got a massive horrible grin and jagged razors for a stache. Mario is a bit of an overeater, Wario can and will eat anything in front of him. Mario gets around with acrobatics and magic power-ups, Wario brute forces his way through everything and just rolls with whatever injuries he picks up along the way.

Mario gets fire powers by consuming magic flowers. Wario sets himself on fire and barrels around destroying everything in his path. Mario harnesses the elements or abilities of beings around him to clear obstacles and solve puzzles, Wario gets turned into a zombie, a vampire or a drunk to get the same things done. Mario befriends and rides dinosaurs who raised him from infancy, Wario piledrives dinosaurs and then uses their bodies to beat up more dinosaurs. Mario pals around with fellow heroes, princesses and friendly fantasy creatures, Wario pals around with aliens, witches, mad scientists, cab drivers, and lanky weirdos. Mario always ends his adventures joyfully leaping to the next one, Wario usually ends up either cackling in a pile of treasure or completely broke.

Mario races through plains to rescue princesses, Wario invades pyramids to hunt for treasure. Mario jumps through planets with baby stars guiding his path, Wario crashes into the Amazon jungle and fistfights the devil. You can see where I'm going with this.

If you were to take one of Nintendo's heroes to make them into pulp heroes, Wario, specifically the Wario Land Wario, may be the only one who really could do it, because in essence, he's the videogame equivalent of Professor Challenger. He's Bluto moonlighting as Indiana Jones, the weird brute adventurer for weird brute adventures where everything's off limits and you can trust our intrepid hero, who really shouldn't be a hero on all accounts, to deliver us a good time, give or take a couple deaths, scams, shams and oh-damns to complete said mad treasure hunts.

[rileychester]

I was thinking about how crappy RT choice to kill off Logan for the “good” of the show. And how he came about that and that he was like this is a good idea.

But remember this is the same guy who thought having Veronica, who was like 16/17 years old at the time go through a rape attack was a good idea too. I mean she needed tragic stuff to go through and it made her stronger right in his man’s writing brain.

Her first love ghosting her with no explanation, friend being brutally murdered, losing her social status, everyone in town coming for them, her father losing his job, and her mother who was having an affair, runs off to become a sad drunk. Being poor and having to work extra hard just to keep their heads above water. While she gets attacked and deals with constant crap on a daily basic just for being who she was.

Nope that wasn’t enough to make her an embittered strong woman hear me roar PI that he wanted her to be.

They had to make sure to throw in rape for good measure.

Cause apparently male writers seem to think that’s the height of torture women pain. That way they can both harm her, but have her break free of the restraints that were holding her back from being the impregnatable HBIC that she became.

FUCK YOU ROB THOMAS. 

[clearlynotjanus]

Loceit Appreciation Week: Day Two, Crook/Aftermath

READ ON AO3

Chapter Summary: As the aftermath of choosing to attend Lee & Mary-Lee's wedding over Thomas' big acting break approaches, Janus extends Logan an unprecedented olive branch that results in the pair inadvertently working together.

CW: Drinking mention, very brief religion mention, philosophy Word Count: 3703 Genre: Gen, Hurt/comfort Rating: Gen Ships: Slowburn Loceit, pre-established Dukeceit, pre-established Intrulogical, slowburn intruloceit

taglist: @sanderssidesangsttrash​ @catalinaacosta​ @whatishappeningrightnow​ @anxiousbean4404​ @vexelore​ @the-dead-and-the-decaying​ @serpentinesomebody​ @poptartsaysurloved​ @robertdownerjr​ @dangitsbrightinhere​ @iamuncomffy​ @sanderdarksides​ @evertriedsoywithyourpopcorn​ @dragonfander @virgilstarantula​ @a-rudethude @indubitably-emo @gay-artist-626​ @cosplayhanna​ @edupunkn00b​ @wouldntyou-liketoknow​ @awesomerandomgirl1 @rizzyluke @loceitweek2021

To support my writing, consider subscribing to my Patreon or checking out my Ko-fi.

April 13th was rapidly approaching and with each passing hour, Thomas sank deeper into denial. Indecision welled as he went back and forth on the subject matter; callback or wedding, callback or wedding, the opportunity of a lifetime or a petty social engagement -- ugh. There was nothing resolute about his choice, about Roman’s choice. It was impulsive, fueled by the short lived desire to be seen as a good person. The kicker was that, even though Thomas was beginning to see this much, it didn’t matter. He would continue burying the realization under mounds of repression while justifying his discontent every way he could manage, grasping at every straw and still coming up short. 

And Janus was supposed to help him, obviously. Repression may have been Patton’s speciality at times, but lying was his jurisdiction; even and especially when those lies were told to himself -- Thomas’ self. He was expected to disregard the resentment in his heart and perform his function. Well, if Thomas could make questionable decisions, then so could Janus, and he decided that they would all find it very difficult to cope when Thomas suddenly found himself incapable of lying on the wretched day. Maybe then Janus’ argument would be taken seriously -- but that was assuming Thomas would even notice.

Stewing in these thoughts, Janus shifted in his seat. Remus, used to his malcontented fidgeting, never spared a glance, however Logan seemed to finally have had enough.

“Are you alright, Janus?” Logan asked from his position, diagonal from the other. His tone was more annoyed and straightforward than concerned. He had genuinely been interested in the show Remus had put on but found it impossible to concentrate with Janus’ excessive sighing and movement.

“I suppose,” Janus lamented, resuming his contemplative silence. Perturbed, Logan adjusted his glasses and resigned himself to sitting back.

“Well, if there’s anything to be done,” Logan offered mindlessly, allowing his sentence to trail off as his focus resumed on the television.

“Well there is one thing,” Janus seized the opportunity after a brief pause, leaning forward with a hushed tone. Logan blinked at the sudden intensity of Janus’ charm.

“And that would be?” He responded dubiously, glancing almost nervously at Remus who seemed utterly absorbed by the show, sparing no attention to either of them. Similarly, Janus opened his mouth to begin speaking, but then inhaled as he registered the fact of Remus in the room still.

“Join me in the kitchen for a moment?” Janus stood fluidly, “I think we could use a drink,” he excused the thinly veiled shift before turning and exiting for the kitchen.

Confused, Logan sat up, only then realizing how much he had leaned towards Janus in the moment. The back of his neck itched with a familiar heat and he cleared his throat.

“I guess I’ll be--” Logan started to explain but Remus quickly waved a hand and shhhh’d him aggressively. With a small smile, Logan pressed a brief kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek, earning a soft sound of appreciation before standing and following after Janus.

Logan entered as Janus finished pouring a second glass of wine. Assuming the other already filled was for him, Logan accepted and rested a hip against the counter. He crossed an arm under his elbow and watched Janus cap the wine with expectation in his raised chin, but Janus didn’t start speaking until he brought the glass to his lips.

“Something’s coming, you do realize,” he said while meeting Logan’s eyes carefully, his voice low and smooth like a secret. Janus followed his sentence with a slow sip. Logan took the pause to formulate his answer.

“That depends entirely on what you mean by ‘something,’” Logan replied hesitantly, but with a loosely concealed air of knowing. 

The date of Lee and Mary-Lee’s wedding was of little importance to him, though the ramifications on Thomas’ stress levels were vexing. The two were connected, obviously, Logan wasn’t so ignorant as to pretend otherwise; however, he couldn’t empathize nor sympathize with Thomas’ decision -- or Roman’s decision, rather. If providing support for his friends was truly paramount, then why was Thomas stressed? He was unable to sleep soundly despite understanding Remus’ behavior now. Similarly unable to concentrate on work, thoughtlessly picking at his food, distracted by persistent and troubling thoughts of guilt, remorse, and failure.

“But yes,” Logan shook his head, conceding. “Something is coming and we’re all bound to talk in circles again.” He sighed and took a sip that quickly turned into a gulp from his glass.

“They never do listen to you,” Janus pointed out sympathetically and Logan frowned, looking away. “That isn’t your fault, of course,” he quickly soothed the burning truth but Logan remained silent for several long moments. Before he spoke again, he brought his glass up for another long drink.

“It is true though,” Logan admitted with a sigh. It was Janus’ turn to frown. They were all so ignorant to ignore Logic of all sides. How Logan had kept his patience for this long was beyond him. 

“I don’t know how to make them listen,” Logan whispered, stare unfocused across the room. “Sometimes they do but,” his shoulders deflated and he rolled his eyes back up to Janus’ face, his lips lined in resigned disappointment. “More frequently they take my lessons in the opposite direction and come up with some alternative and pointless meaning,” Exasperation leaked into his tone. Janus exhaled in the following silence.

“Well, my favor,” he started after a moment and Logan blinked up, suddenly remembering what this conversation was supposed to be about, “with that in mind, is less for me than it is for you.”

Logan’s brows creased as his eyes narrowed, not in suspicion but in confusion. He opened his mouth, intending to ask how that could possibly be, but his breath was quickly stolen by Janus’ delicate hand on his shoulder as he began to leave.

“When the time comes,” Janus whispered almost directly into Logan’s ear as he leaned in. Goosebumps raised along his arms and his stomach knotted in a way he was beginning to associate with Janus specifically. “Rely on me.”

- - - - -

Another debate spent as an observer, reduced to an annoying popup ad not even most of the audience bothered to pause for; too enthralled with the meaningless, cyclical conversation enduring above. At least Logan could console himself with the idea that some people were reading what he had to say. Thomas, at the very least, already knew everything he was saying. Logic wasn’t a feeling after all but something deeply embedded. A fact that only added fuel to the fire of frustration but that wasn’t something he was concentrating on currently.

Then Patton finally asked for his input directly. Logan already knew that Patton wouldn’t like what he had to say, but it was what Thomas needed to hear; the reality that’s been lying underneath every decision they’ve ever made. It was something Patton actively avoided thinking about. The fact was that his view and use of empathy was far more akin to pity, a feeling that only thinly veiled the nihilistic complex Morality had gotten entangled with in Thomas’ youth. “God,” “fate,” and “nothingness;” were all just terms for relinquishing control of one’s life. A habit that was clearly getting Thomas into situations that weighed on him heavily.

Logan began with reciting the source material: pity runs counter to the instincts that preserve and enhance the value of life. Friedrich Nietzche’s The Anti-Christ. A fantastic read about Nietzsche's claim that Christianity is a poisoner of western culture with its inherent apathy central to westernization. That wasn’t the first sentence nor was it the opening statement of the section he was referring to, but it was a perfectly adequate summary. However Logan didn’t even finish half of his following sentence explaining Nietzche’s philosophy before a yellow and black button appeared on his textbox. Skip all -- click. No hesitation. 

No second thought.

Well, Logan did say that he was making his facts optional this time. 

Something hard suddenly wrapped around his throat and the next thing Logan knew, he was being violently torn away from the scene.

Upright on his feet, he landed in a familiar place. Blinking around the shadowy corners of the Dark Side living room, Logan cleared his throat and adjusted his tie with tense hands. How unnecessarily brutal, he thought.

“Oh hey, Lolo!” Remus greeted from the couch, suddenly realizing his forced entrance. “De -- I mean Jan just left!” A pause. “Wait,” he said slowly like he suspected them of something, but when he continued, he sounded humored again. “Did he send you to babysit me while he went and fucked with the Light Sides?”

Logan sighed, shoulders deflating. “It seems that way,” He conceded, piecing different puzzle pieces together but still getting the same result as Remus. “What are you doing, then,” Logan asked in a rather flat and tired tone as he sat down next to his boyfriend, who proceeded to gush about the diagram he had been sketching for a new building in his Duchy.

Logan guessed Janus had sent him here, in proximity and obligation to Remus, rather than stewing by himself in his room in case he found himself disagreeing with how this had been handled. Which he did, but only with the execution, and not enough to stop Janus at this point. Rely on me, Janus had said a few days ago now and at the time Logan had clammed up from the situation. Janus’ lips pressed against his ear, a hand on his shoulder, wine coursing through his blood; his mind had raced with possibilities and it wasn’t until now that Logan realized what a brilliant set up it had been. 

Hopefully Janus got through to the others easier than him. Historically that hadn’t been the case yet but there was a severe lack of data to infer from. Logan had many chances to convince the others of various rationale at this point. Janus had only the opportunity twice. It was only fair that Logan would rely on him then, and try not to be bitter about it. They had been getting nowhere when he was involved and the only Side Logan could blame was Patton.

Minutes ticked by before Logan detected an opening for further input. Janus struggled with his metaphor, faltered and Logic appeared. Not that any of you care, he began speaking only really to Patton and Roman, but I am unharmed. Janus reacted negatively, perhaps assuming Logan was upset with him for the intrusion -- And I don’t want to talk about it. He wasn’t upset. At least not with Janus.

His explanation ensued and in a rare occurrence, everyone listened. Whether that was due to Janus having gotten their attention focused on the issue at hand or Logan finally having a convincing argument, in the moment he wasn’t sure. However nothing really spoke to the fact that Janus was an emotionally inclined Side more than the way he reacted to Logan putting a legitimate name to his stance; Effective Altruism. His expression was full of clear fascination at being taught something, intrigue to know more, attentive listening; it was Janus’ debut discussion on the stage all over again. The first time Logan had been so explicitly asked for frequent contributions in what had felt like forever. Logan easily fell back into the comforting feeling of being heard -- before sinking out and preventing himself from witnessing anymore absurd contradictions.

After leaving of his own volition to his room, Logan fell back on his bed with a sigh and removed his glasses. Everything was very difficult, he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose; and it would always be difficult as long as Patton continued to be so frustratingly obtuse. Well, at least Janus got it, but seeing that he had an easier time getting through to the others felt bitter. It really did boil down to some … fallacy of Logic, didn’t it.

Logan lost track of time in the mire of his thoughts, at some point having opened his eyes to stare blindly at the ceiling. Everything had calmed down in the living room it seemed. Thomas was now preoccupied with his friends and the Sides were released to continue with their day. Only Logan wasn’t sure what it was he should be doing. A familiar question floated through his mind like an astringently sweet memory; was he even necessary?

“Well don’t you look comfy.”

“Janus,” Logan sat up and rushed to shove his glasses on.

“Oh sorry,” Janus whispered, gesturing with a limp wrist. “Was I interrupting? Were you experiencing an emotion? Should I leave?” Janus teased with drama in his soft voice. Logan cleared his throat.

“Considering you’re already here, no,” He stood and adjusted his tie. “Why are you here? I thought everything was taken care of.”

“It is,” Janus reassured smugly but then slowly crossed the room towards Logan, his eyes and fingertips indulgently dragging along the books lining the wall. “Are you saying I can’t visit?” He paused in front of Logan with pouting lips and a hurt expression. Standing a few inches too close, he reached a gloved hand to smooth the back of Logan’s mussed bed hair. “Check up on you?”

“I didn’t say that.” Heat overtook his face as he quickly looked away, dislodging the hand in his hair with the movement. “You can. I just wasn’t expecting you.” Janus frowned.

“I don’t know why,” he replied, quietly astounded. Didn’t they have an agreement? Why wouldn’t he come to...debrief or whatever after all that? Janus’ lips pursed in a wounded expression as he watched Logan take steps away, looking everywhere but up at him. “That’s beside the point however.” He huffed a soft sigh and tilted his head, attempting to meet Logan’s eyes. “You’re very angry, aren’t you?” He guessed. For once Logan wasn’t denying any of his emotions which was both progress and rather troublesome. The misguided assumption prompted Logan to finally acknowledge his gaze again at least. Janus thought his face was rather unreadable.

“No,” Logan shook his head, giving his own heavy sigh. “Frustrated,” he admitted like Janus was pulling his teeth.

Janus hummed with understanding, raising his chin with a nod. “Well I apologize,” He offered seriously, lifting half of his mouth in a genuine expression. “Perhaps I should’ve been a tad more explicit beforehand,” Janus shrugged shallowly, willing to admit his fault. “It did work however, so I thank you for relying on me. As ... difficult as that may have been.” Janus finished, all too aware of how manipulated Logan might feel; how artificial the moments of closeness they had together lately must suddenly seem -- and while Janus wouldn’t put that sort of thing past himself, it wasn’t true in this case.

“No,” Logan shook his head, blinking at Janus’ seriousness. “I’m not frustrated with you,” he explained slowly, diverted from his frustration for a moment in the misunderstanding.

“You’re not?” Confusion mixed with intrigue on Janus’ face. “Well, what are you frustrated with then?”

Logan rapped knuckles against his desk in thought, looking away from Janus again and down at the action. It was with pride that he regarded himself as Thomas’ language center. Words came easily to him, most of the time. Struggling to phrase things wasn’t an obstacle he faced frequently. However, more often than not, Janus made this part of his job difficult. At the same time, it wasn’t something he’d blame Janus for. It wasn’t Janus’ fault Logan thought he was captivating, distracting. Beautiful.

Logan’s knuckles went still on the desk. “As usual, I find myself frustrated with emotions.” Janus’ brow twitched; was it not just frustration he was feeling? Was there something more he couldn’t articulate? “More specifically,” Logan continued and rolled his eyes back up at Janus, “I’m frustrated with Patton, which is nothing new.”

“Ahh,” Janus breathed, the sound turning into a gentle chuckle. If he had been worried, the concern began to melt away. “Yes,” he nodded slowly, “I can easily imagine that.” Janus thought on their own interaction before his arrival here, in Logan’s room. It was ... very awkward. Patton seemed unwilling to discuss the matter further, or perhaps Janus had just been trying to beat a dead horse. “He’s very naive and difficult to communicate with.” Janus scrunched his nose. 

Historically, he had an easy enough time understanding Patton. He was soft, liked to see the best in people even when he had very clear evidence not to. Patton was emotional and stubborn. There wasn’t anything too complicated about him that Janus didn’t get. It was when he attempted to employ the reverse of Patton understanding him where tragedy struck. For someone who boasted about empathy, Morality had an awful time seeing where Janus came from.

“Yes, precisely. He’s so stubborn,” Logan agreed enthusiastically. As he continued, he began to gesture wildly, speaking with his hands as much as his words to convey his growing level of frustration. “It’s incredible that you’re able to get through to him so effectively when I have been trying to do the same for years now. I mean, stubborn is a kind word for him at this point and he continues to prove that at every moral junction we come to. No, not even just moral junctions; daily undertakings and productivity suffer constantly because of his unreliability! It’s just,” Logan sputtered a humorless laugh, his hands falling hard against his thighs. “Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.”

Janus paused after Logan’s rant came to an end, cocking his head thoughtfully. In the silence Logan caught his breath with a heavy sigh.

“Sorry, I … didn’t mean to blow up on you like that,” Logan apologized, dismissively shaking his head as embarrassment knotted his stomach.

“Oh no, it’s quite alright. Actually I appreciate it,” Janus quickly snuffed out Logan’s self consciousness. The words felt genuine enough and Logan took a deep breath in an attempt to quell the rising self resentment that predictably followed his emotional expression. “I was just contemplating your words, is all,” Janus continued reassuringly, and the sentiment took Logan by surprise. Why had he assumed Janus’ silence meant dismissal of his admission? “I suppose it simply comes down to a matter of communication methods,” Janus glanced to the side in a reflective pause. “You’re a teacher,” He continued after a moment, a gentle smile on his lips as he met Logan’s eyes again. “But Patton doesn’t take very well to being told things.” Logan snorted a knowing and arid laugh, but then thought on how Janus had communicated with Patton in the past.

“You also tell him things,” Logan’s brows furrowed. “He just seems to readily listen to you.”

“Ah, there’s a difference though,” Janus wagged a flimsy finger. “I don’t tell him anything he doesn’t already know at that point in the conversation. Patton’s like … a horse that desperately needs to drink, but refuses to, even when you bring the water to him directly. In such a case, you need to lead the horse to the water. But how do you get him there? Well, in Patton’s case, asking him questions that in turn make him question his own motives tends to work.”

“Ah, the Socratic method,” Logan interrupted as Janus paused.

“Exactly,” He nodded before continuing, “But more importantly, I hear his justifications. I try to see where he’s coming from so I can...clear a path, so to say, from his point A to wherever my point is.” Logan hummed thoughtfully and marveled at the amount of consideration Janus put into his communication with Patton. 

It was admirable and Logan found himself agreeing, once again, with the many flattering adjectives Remus has used for his partner in the past. Graceful, patient, and ridiculously smart. His current explanation made a lot of sense, and Logan felt a bit stupid. He chuckled dryly and looked down, adjusting his glasses. Janus cocked his head, expression perplexed with raised brows.

“Did I say something funny?”

“No,” Logan sighed, “The opposite. You made a great point and I was wondering how I had never thought of that myself.” He admitted with an impressive amount of vulnerability. While the compliment felt nice, mostly Janus was now smiling with pride in Logan’s new found understanding and the handful of walls he had dropped in the process.

“Sometimes,” Janus sighed with a smile, approaching Logan as he had earlier; with steps that placed him just a little too close. “You just need some perspective.” He reached up with both hands and flattened Logan’s collar affectionately, the unexpected gesture making him inhale briskly. “I mean, we all do,” Janus continued, resting his fingers gently against Logan’s collar bones. “Not just you, of course.” 

“Of course,” Logan repeated in a whisper that was more breath than words. Having Janus this close, he suddenly felt whatever intelligible response he may have had evaporate on his tongue as a heat quickly consumed his neck all the way to his cheeks. 

Janus’ smile twitched wider as he lingered, mischievous amusement sparkling in his eyes. Logan was so easy to rile up; even with a foot between them right now, Janus could feel the attraction rolling off him like heat off concrete in the summer. If he continued to stand here, what would Logan do?

“How are you feeling now?” Janus asked after a silent moment. Under his hands, he could feel Logan’s heart rate pick up.

“Fine,” Logan answered automatically, the word cracking indecently. He cleared his throat which marginally brought his senses back. “Fine,” He repeated, shaking his head with a small smile. Janus thought the expression seemed a little forced. 

“Good,” Janus nodded shallowly and paused for another beat before turning away, leaving the air around Logan significantly easier to breathe. “Well, if you need anything else,” Janus’ voice trailed off as he twisted the doorknob with one hand and raised another to delicately wave his fingers goodbye.

When his door clicked shut, Logan fell heavily back on his bed again with a groan that ended in a sigh.

Chapter One || Chapter Three

[unsafepin]

Succession And The Humanity Of The Rich

The metaphor we use for a sight we’re unable to look away from yet we feel we shouldn’t continue looking is a car crash. It is fitting - the sight is brutal, unfit for sensitive and unfamiliar eyes. But I feel like this comparison doesn’t really resonate with Succesion’s brand of borderline unwatchable, yet completely addictive appeal. No, the metaphor I’m going to use, in line with the show’s crude sense of humor, is your dog shitting on your carpet. This would, I suppose, be a scolding critique in anyone else’s book, but Succession is actually a solid five out of five for me, so you’ll just have to roll with my punches here. First, let’s jog our memory on the basic plot summary for those absent-minded and unfamiliar.

Succession’s core is Logan Roy, an ultra-wealthy media magnate/patriarch, whose poor health and age are clearly signaling the time to retire. As the title suggests, he has to pick a successor, the most likely choices being his three children - Kendall, Roman and Siobhan. There’s also Connor Roy, Logan’s firstborn, but for the non-initiated he’s just doing his own thing and isn’t interested in the empire, let’s call it that. Drama ensues. All of them, including various side characters (notable ones for this essay being cousin-turned-pawn Greg Hirsch, pawn-turned-husband Tom Wambsgans, and run-of-the-mill-but-actually-gets-really-weird general counsel Gerri Kellman) are fucking weird. Which is really the main drive of the show - positively Shakespearian power intrigue and the absolutely unhinged personalities of the characters. Got that? Great. Because actually this essay is about capitalism. Yay.

I really don’t watch anything even in the remote genre of Succession, I haven’t seen House of Cards, not Mad Men, I’ve barely watched a few out of context episodes of Breaking Bad. Power struggles and topics of business and politics are really not what I look for in TV. What drove me to watch it is seeing notably quotable scenes giffed on Tumblr (I know, shut up) and the utter disconnect between those off-beat dialogue lines and the seemingly cold-hearted business machination premise. So I watched it. In a few sittings, really, as most of us consume TV these days. And it was painful: watching the screen get filled up scene by scene by all the luxuries only the top 1% can afford makes me consider getting a copy of The Anarchist Cookbook each damn time, I mostly don’t understand what’s going on in the business-focused plots (you can clearly see I’m a humanities person), the comic relief goes from mildly off-beat to disgusting and/or so secondhand-cringe-inducing you can’t even look at the screen straight, and all of the characters are morally detestable people, making you unable to root for basically anyone. All of this to explain, I still haven’t reconciled the fact that all the singular aspects of this show must make me hate and disavow it, but the whole of it made me passionately recommend it to every person I speak to.

I hate looking at Succession. It’s like looking straight at the sun. Each new house, apartment, helicopter, car, yacht are simply set dressings to the arguments the painfully entitled characters have within them. The most gut-punch of a scene for me is when Greg, our supposed everyman character, who in the first few episodes lost his minimum-wage job and had twenty dollars on his name, reacts to a three-story yacht he’s invited to with a simple “Uh-huh” by the end of second season. This is, I believe, partially what lends itself to the Shakespearian atmosphere of the show - The Danish court is but a setting, the real attraction is Hamlet’s inner battle. The wealth is just the premise, an underlying, rarely addressed theme, the characters are the plot. Just say “Uh-huh” and move on. The concept of money seems to almost dissipate the longer you watch it, this comforting lull only being broken by these little (no doubt, intentional) scenes, and you almost feel like being shaken awake from a dream you didn’t know was a nightmare. Everytime a character discards a glass of 200$ champagne, waves a promise of provision under a poor child’s nose only to snatch it away, tosses a brand new phone overboard, you have to actively remind yourself: this is not normal. Succession seduces you into adopting the worldview of its characters, even if for a second, and it almost makes you feel violated. I’ve only felt an emotion parallel to this, akin to heat and cold reading as the same kind of perception to your neurons, by being exposed to extreme poverty in media. Because what it often boils down to is that both of these situations - ultra-wealth and poverty - are elaborate theater props in TV. Except these aren’t cardboard and fog machines, they exist, and all you’re left with is a feeling that you should be doing more.

The language in the show works in a similar way. It’s juggling quite specific business jargon and people unable to communicate by anything except awkwardly strung sentences, sarcasm and swearing. This and the purposefully unpolished way Succession is shot does a great job of making you feel like an outsider looking into a life that is absolutely not your own. You’re forced to learn the language of the characters and oftentimes you’re left on ice, unable to piece together what characters mean, not least because they often don’t understand themselves, at least emotionally. Everyone is always trying to be a step ahead, communicate less by talking more, like students chasing a good grade on a presentation they did no preparation on. This leaves the viewer, once again, an uncomfortable distance away from the world that fictional media usually strives to engage them as closely as it can with. You’re watching pieces move by themselves on an incredibly pricey chess board and each of them makes a pleading case for you to take them, only them, seriously and you’re always stuck halfway between entertaining the notion and scoffing at the request. Each of the characters is both unforgivably slimy and alluringly broken in their own unique way, exemplified by Kendall, who is both a literal criminal who only got away due to his status and the only person making meaningful attempts to upset a rotten system. It’s a show about a corporation and it’s a show about a family. And you cannot divorce the two. You feel kind of good watching the Roys get ahead, hoping it would bring them together as a unit, and you feel as delighted by the notion of seeing their empire burn and all of them in jail.

And the worst thing is, it’s not just this TV show raising these questions of universal dignity versus unjustifiable wealth, isn’t it? I felt good reading about Melinda Gates’ divorce, not even due to schadenfreude but simply because no one should stay in a relationship that’s bad for them. But even the thought that I’m awarding this multi-billionaire some kind of notion of past disenfranchisement makes me feel like the devil’s advocate. The rich today are so rich they by all accounts cannot be people, no one person should be able to yield this much power and wealth. It’s a Lovecraftian horror - staring into the abyss that’s staring back, trying to comprehend something you cannot apply any meaningful scale to. It feels ridiculous to even assume they have some kind of experiences we can share, even less accepting this idea.

That’s why I said Succession is like watching your dog shit on the carpet. It lacks the grandiosity, the terror, the way pain grounds us all on the same level that a car crash has. Your dog doing its’ business where it shouldn’t is mundane. It’s gross, but it happens like, what, every other week? That often you’re faced to look at a thing which ideally you wouldn’t like seeing in your home, which shouldn’t happen at all, maybe. Wow, I’m getting my metaphors mixed up. Your actual dog should actually have healthy bathroom breaks. Okay, I’m done talking about that now. What I’m saying is, it’s uncomfortable being faced with the reality you were never supposed to see. The rich are as wasteful, as weird, as dramatic and horrible as you imagine, but they’re also human in that gross kind of way. They’re even based on real people - the Murdoch clan, the lovely owners of Fox News and The Sun. You’re not supposed to look in the eyes of the people you’re going to guillotine. And Succession isn’t here to pose any kind of solution to this existential dread and I can’t solve the mess of Lovecraftian magnitude that is current economic distribution either. So maybe all we can do is look on in our gleefully morbid disbelief and try to affect economics and politics locally as much as we can, hoping the ripples will reach the Roys of our world.

So if you haven’t already, you should watch Succession. It’s good TV. It’s not escapism, by any means, if anything it’s both a magnifying glass and a distorted mirror of today’s issues. These essays are a bummer lately. So if Succession’s not for you, watch some local and independent news and Squid Game or whatever, I’m on the first episode. Surely there isn’t any social commentary there.

[bestofblackwidow]

The "Let me go - it's okay," she told him the last time we saw the Black Widow, it was - to say the least - emotional. "Let me go - it's okay," she said to Hawkeye, plunging to her death on the arid planet Sleeping in Avengers: Endgame for the ultimate sacrifice to save the world. While the deaths in the Marvel Cinematic Universe go on - sorry, Iron Man - there was probably no more heart-stopping moment, since the former SHIELD spy who became Avenger gave her life to recover the Soul Stone.

Still, it left the MCU in a bind. For years, a Black Widow film had been mooted, right back to 2004 at Lions Gate Entertainment before the rights reverted to Marvel. When Scarlett Johansson first appeared as Natasha Romanoff - the former KGB assassin with a very particular set of skills - in 2010's Iron Man 2, it didn't take long before questions were asked about a solo outing. Marvel Studios conductor Kevin Feige even held discussions with Johansson, who was then only 25. But there was a caveat, he said. "The Avengers comes first."

While others - Thor, Captain America, Black Panther and even Ant-Man - had their moments in the spotlight, the Black Widow was forced to wait. And wait. And wait. Not that Johansson thought that her character demanded the same treatment; if she was going to be in front of a Marvel movie, there had to be a reason. "Is there anything exciting to do creatively, as an actor?" she says. “Will we be able to do something extraordinary and strong? And something that stands on its own? "It's what makes the independent Black Widow an intriguing prospect: an inauguration of Phase 4 of the MCU promises to step back in time before her dramatic death to answer the provocative questions that still hover over her Crucially, the script transports audiences back to the events right after Captain America: Civil War, after that huge internal confrontation of the Avengers.

Without relatives or an organization that employs her, the Black Widow is alone, says Johansson. "It gave us the opportunity to really show her when she's kind of out of her game, you know? Because of that, anything was possible." The actress was there "from the start" at the script meetings, as they began to figure out how to delve into Romanoff's origins. "You are trying to map all of this ... which is extremely stressful," she laughs, "because there are no guidelines."

Fortunately, Johansson was not alone. In another inspired choice for the MCU canon, Feige recruited Australian director Cate Shortland, best known for discreet dramas like Somersault and Lore. While she was surprised, Shortland was encouraged by the creative freedom that Marvel was offering. “They allowed me to be myself and encouraged me to make a movie that I was passionate about,” she says. "We were allowed to have a lot of nuances and make a character-oriented film."

After several Skype sessions with Johansson, who also receives producer credit, Shortland worked with a Russian researcher to embody Romanoff's dark story: "the red in my ledger", as she told Loki in 2012 in Os Avengers. As she sings in the trailer, "We have to go back to where it all started" - the promising teaser clips of Romanoff as a young man (played by Ever Anderson, daughter of Paul WS Anderson and Milla Jovovich) in a childhood that seems far from idyllic. That's what makes Black Widow a family reunion of the kind that only Marvel would have the courage to conjure. Joining Romanoff is Yelena Belova, a sister-sister and fellow murderer who trained alongside her in the so-called Red Room, the punitive Soviet facility that produced 'Black Widow' spies.

"Their stories intersect," promises Shortland. "They clash." Played by Lady Macbeth's British star Florence Pugh, Belova is more than a physical match for Romanoff. Still, emotionally is where it really matters. "What Yelena does is kind of point to Natasha's pain," says Pugh. “She is part of Natasha's story. And I think that's why we have an opportunity to look at Natasha's story, because Yelena has been knocking on the door and says, 'Hey, let's deal with this pain. ”As Johansson comments, Belova is not just a carbon copy of his own character.

"She is completely alone. She is strong and different. She is so different (from) Natasha." Beside them are Melina Vostokoff (Rachel Weisz) and Alexei Shostakov (David Harbor), two father figures whose own stories intertwine with Natasha and Yelena. "This is the coolest thing with this whole group of people. They all had parts of their past that they regretted," says Pugh. “They’re older. They’ve had more life experience. They know more about the system, about this world they’re all living in.” Harbor, the Emmy Stranger Things nominated star, managed to put an indelible mark on the muscular Shostakov, better known as the Red Guardian super soldier, the Russian equivalent of Captain America. "There is a gangster quality to him," the actor smiles. "And he's covered in tattoos. He's got a beard and those gold teeth. He's crazy." But after years of making bad decisions, he's also full of remorse.

"He's in a bad situation," adds Harbor. "And he needs redemption." Weisz's character, Melina, is another who experienced the rigors of the Red Room, a place that put her in contact with Natasha and Yelena. Marking his first dive at the MCU, Weisz acknowledges that the film addresses the idea of ​​discovering his favorite family. "It's definitely about finding out where you belong and where you came from, and what your background story was, and who you really are, and what matters to you - your ideology, I think." Along the way, Feige made reference to The Kids Are All Right - the 2010 Lisa Cholodenko film about a same-sex couple raising two teenagers. "Which is so weird," laughs Johansson. "You would never expect that from a Marvel movie." no it was the only strange nod to the film. Harbor speaks of Shostakov in terms of Philip Seymour Hoffman's drama teacher in the dramatic black comedy The Savages.

Or even expressing "the pathos of a small town, independent, family-run, weird movie... like Little Miss Sunshine". More understandable cinema references include "things like Logan and Aliens and The Fugitive," says Shortland. "We saw movies like that." Certainly, it's easy to see comparisons between Sigourney Weaver's determined Ripley, from James Cameron's masterpiece Aliens, and Johansson's Romanoff, an Avenger who has no superpowers. "We saw it as a force," says Shortland, "because she always has to dig really deep to get out of shit situations." According to the director, everyone in the production invested in deepening Romanoff - even Scottish composer Lorne Balfe (Pennyworth, His Dark Materials), who replaced Alexandre Desplat's original choice. Balfe looked at the character's origins, says Shortland. “He said, 'I want to put it on the ground, because it has been dug up in the movies in the past. I want to give her that flesh and blood. 'And he created this soundtrack that is really Russian."

However, perhaps the real blow here is to recruit Shortland, the first female director to face the Black Widow (and only the second, following Captain Marvel co-director Anna Boden, to enter the MCU). "This film would not be what it is without Cate Shortland," says Pugh. "I think having her eye, and having her mind with this script, has taken her to a whole different realm." Johansson agrees. "" You can feel it was made from a female perspective ... cooked there. "Although Ray Winstone's casting as Supervisor of the Red Room Dreykov (whose daughter contributed to the abundance of red in Romanoff's book, according to Loki) add more to the psychological battleground that the Black Widow will explore, it also deals with victimization, a very pertinent topic in the current climate. The Red Room itself is where trainees are brutally sterilized. "You will see that these women are hard working and strong, and they are murderers - and yet they still need to discuss how they were abused," says Pugh. "It is an incredibly powerful piece."

Judging by the 2020 Oscars, where Pugh and Johansson had their own private relationship session on the red carpet, the two actors got along very well. "She has a really beautiful career ahead of her ... she's a very special person," says Johansson, excited when Pugh's name is mentioned. More specifically, Pugh may well have more Marvel to chew on, if it is rumored that her character will take on the 'Black Widow' mantle for new adventures. By learning Parkour, kickboxing and knife fighting for role, Pugh can safely cut things physically, though she's reluctant to claim that the Black Widow is just a setup for future outings. "Even though it is obviously where everyone wants to go and want to think - think about what comes next - this film never really seemed to be what he was trying to underline." According to Johansson, however, test the audience who saw the film thinks otherwise. "Her character and her performance are so dear." Now, after more than a year of pandemic-related delays to July 2021), it will not be just a few lucky spectators who will be able to see. Black Widow will even be the first Marvel movie to debut simultaneously on the Disney+ streaming site (with a 'main hit' fee), an understandable move considering the uncertainty that still exists around the world. And in fact, after the success of the Marvel TV shows WandaVision and The Falcon And The Winter Soldier, it doesn't seem like such a strange home. Johansson believes that fans will respond to Black Widow, with this flashback of an earlier part of her life, bringing more poignancy to the Endgame's outcome. "Our goal was for them to be satisfied with this story; that maybe they could have some solution, I think, with the death of this character, in a way. It seemed like people wanted this." Shortland agrees. "We felt that we should honor his death," she says. And the Black Widow will surely honor him.

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 13

Day 13 - Everyone is born with a super power, but when soulmates are together their powers are nullified by each other.

Pairing(s): Romantic Intrulogical, Romantic Moceit, Romantic Prinxiety (background), Familial Anxceit

TWs: swearing, one mention of puking [nothing detailed], innuendo, Remus being Remus

--

Logic reigned at night in Newmind City.

Okay, that may not be entirely correct; the quicker the time sluggishly dragged itself towards 6 am, the faster the brain cell count dwindled. Stupider and stupider decisions were made edging the lines of the illegal and bordering on the disastrous. 

No, the Logic that owned the night came in the form of the superhero; Logic. 

The hero had to admit, it wasn’t the most extravagant name out there, he’d heard many more creative and intimidating names; the Sandman, Sweet Psyche, the Tempest Tongue, all of them household names by now, whether hero or villain. Logic wasn’t exactly a name that struck hearts much outside of NewMind City, but within the alleyways and dive bars, criminals lived in fear of his watchful patrols.

Harnessing the power of Order and Stability made Logic a formidable opponent. The effect on his physical balance allowed him to fight on any surface - even hundreds of feet off of the ground - with almost zero chance of falling. The way he could manipulate any situation into the perfect rube goldberg machine to aid his crusade was terrifying given the right situations. Only one villain dared provoke Logic at every turn; Deceit.

The Lord of the Lies. A Self-Proclaimed Subterfuge Specialist. 

Deceit seemed to live for one thing and one thing only; to destroy the city from the inside out. Logic would have admired the serpentine slanderer if not for his methods. Forcing politicians to spout the truth? Urging government officials to spill their true agendas against their will? Logic admired that kind of drive, but at the same time, this was a man who used lies as weapons. Deceit used them to hurt others whenever he so desired. 

Stalking across the edge of the Talyn Street apartment block, the hero could hear a commotion in the distance; by the sounds of it, at least three men were involved and by the sound of it, things had gotten ugly in a hurry. Logic took off along the edges of the nearest buildings and-

Wait. Something didn’t feel right.

The closer he got to the commotion, the less balanced he felt on his own two feet. Had he somehow exhausted himself? Impossible. He’d faced rather a quiet night until now. His thoughts were distracted long enough that he nearly slid right off of the edge of the building overlooking the alleyway in question. The scene that unfolded set Logic’s blood to a boil. 

Four men, not three. One held back by the largest thug in the group while the other two took turns brutalising the man, though he didn’t let out a single sound. Logic had to be careful; he couldn’t tell if his powers were acting up for sure, but just in case, he used the fire escape to stick to the shadows, to better observe the situation.

Despite the beating he was taking, the man being held back didn’t seem too worried. Logic found out exactly why when the man waited for the next brutal gut punch and used it to flip the larger man holding him onto his attacker. It was impressive to say the least. The final attacker still standing went to pull out a blade, evident by the flash of silver light that caught Logic’s eye, but thankfully, their victim was armed as well. 

The way the man twirled the butterfly knife in his hand so effortlessly was hypnotic, borderline erotic if Logic were to be so bold. Focus. You have a job to do. He leapt down from the fire escape with only a few inches between him and the attacker’s back. Before the assailant could do anything, Logic drove his elbow into the man’s temple, knocking him unconscious. Checking that he hadn't actually killed him, Logic took his pulse with relief before looking up towards the victim, 

“Are you unharmed-”

“That was so sexy.”, the man murmured.

“..... Come again?”

“Gimme a second.”

It took Logic that second and more to realise the innuendo. He annoyedly rolled his eyes and made sure his hair was neatly pushed back once again out of the way of his mask.

“Would you mind informing me of the situation, um..?”

“Remus.”, the man grinned. 

Logic wasn’t sure whether the grin reminded him more of a gassy shark or a seasick crocodile, but either way, he began to wonder if Remus wasn’t entirely innocent in this situation…

“Remus.”, Logan repeated, “Actually, I’ll need to ask you to assist me in escorting these charming gentlemen to the station-”

“That won’t be necessary. You’re too tired to move.”

The silky, venomous voice pierced through Logic before he could react. Dammit, he hadn’t anticipated these thugs would be working for Deceit. His movements were sluggish and just as he watched Remus hit the ground, Logic too felt the rough kiss of gravel before he was out like a light…

--

When Logic awoke, he felt rather like the Fresh Prince of Bel Air; everything was flipped, turned upside down.

Startled, he noted the boiling oil below him - typical of the villain’s over the top style - and the power suppressing cuffs keeping his hands secured behind his back. On the floor just to the left of him, he could make out the goons from earlier sat playing cards while Remus was tied to a chair a couple of feet away. Logic was thankful to see Remus had no new injuries though he was still out cold. The man may be a wretch but the hero really didn’t want to see harm come to him.

“Ah, you’re finally awake, my dear nemesis.”

Deceit’s voice trickled from the speakers in the room, sickly smooth and deadly, like honey laced with poison. Logic knew not to listen to it consciously, he’d made that mistake once before and it’d nearly cost him his life. He instead focused on struggling to get out of the situation he was in, but with his hands cuffed using suppressor cuffs, he was fighting an uphill battle. 

“Now, now, don’t exhaust yourself. I’ve been waiting for this day for a while now, I don’t want you too tired for the grand finale.”

The smugness dripping from every word even passively began to give Logic a headache. His attempts to escape were becoming more and more fruitless; the chain that held his legs in place also stopped him having his skin boiled right off the bone so being too unruly with them was out of the question. All he could do was hope that Remus would wake up and have some kind of ability that might help the both of them. 

Come to think of it, why had his powers suddenly stopped working as he’d approached? Perhaps one of Deceit’s thugs had been in possession of something made to counteract his abilities? No, that didn’t seem likely. Knowing the smug villain, Logic knew there was no way Deceit would let his cronies take charge of something that powerful and impressive. He was wrenched from his thoughts as Deceit’s message continued,

“I hope you’re prepared to-”

He stopped. There was a sound akin to rustling and clattering before Deceit’s voice came once more. From the muffled volume and the conversation, Logic guessed the idiot had forgotten to turn off the microphone.

“Pat, dearest?”

Another voice, probably the aforementioned Pat, spoke sweetly in response, 

“What, honey?“

“Where’s my villainous cape?”, came Deceit’s inquiry. Logic had to bite his tongue to refrain from laughing. Might as well enjoy the show while he thought of an escape plan.

“What???”, came Pat’s reply, a little closer now going by the acoustics.

“Where. Is. My. Villainous. Cape?!”

“Oh, I put it away!”

Logic was thoroughly enjoying the drama going down over the speakers, and so were Deceit’s henchmen who Logic spotted had stopped their rousing game of blackjack to instead get comfy and enjoy the show.

“Where did you put it?!”

“Why do you need to know, Jan!?”

Huh. This wasn’t how Logic figured he’d find out his arch nemesis’ name, but he wasn’t about to complain. What did strike urgency back into him was the progression of their conversation.

“Oh for the love of-! My plan to erase my nemesis is in danger!”

“Our EVENING is in danger!”, there was a soft sigh, “Look, Jan, we’ve had this reservation planned for months now! I’m gonna assume your nemesis is a little tied up at the moment,” , Logan rolled his eyes at such an awful pun, “So why don’t we just go enjoy our anniversary dinner and you can deal with him when you get back, alright?”

Horrifyingly, Deceit huffed a sigh, “I suppose it would be interesting to keep him suspended for a while, let the terror sink in. Good thinking, my love.” The sound of a light kiss and a chuckle could’ve made Logic lose his lunch. Or perhaps it was the idea of being held upside down for so long..

 “Alright, Pat, if we hurry, parking shouldn’t be too awful...”

The intercom went quiet and now Logic could truly let the situation sink in; he’d have to remain suspended over boiling oil, watched by Deceit’s cronies, unable to save himself or-

Remus!

He’d almost forgotten about the odd gentleman. He turned to see him-

Oh, are you kidding me.

Remus was still out cold. How. How in the HELL could one man be asleep for so long?!

Logic didn’t like the idea, but he had little choice. Inhaling, he began to yell, “WAKE UP-” when something hard impacted his cheek. The blow sent his glasses hurtling onto the ground - thankfully missing the boiling oil at least - and breaking apart on impact. Dammit. 

“Keep your mouth shut, Zero!”, one of the thugs chided, earning snickers from the other two and inciting them to join in on the jeering and insult hurling. Logic was just thankful that whatever had been thrown - he suspected a mug by the feel of it - must have been the single dispensable item at hand considering nothing else was thrown other than attempts at insults. The hero had no idea what was worse; the idea of dying from heart failure with the blood rushing to his head, or dying of sheer embarrassment knowing it’d happen while having to listen to these ignoramuses try to genuinely roast him.

Logic could already feel unconsciousness taking hold of him when the first thug began screaming. It took the last of his strength to turn towards the cacophonous cries of terror, but his vision was so blurred without his glasses, all Logic could see before he passed out were a pair of glowing green eyes and a whirlwind of obsidian tendrils.

--

When Logic awoke, the first thing he noticed was the cold breeze settling into his skin through his suit. Opening his eyes, the hero still couldn’t see clearly, but as he squinted, he began to make out stars and clouds. Shit, how long was he out?

“Wakey wakey, princess! You had me thinking you’d gone and died on me there!”, came Remus’ already unmistakable voice. Logic sat up, still reeling as he saw Remus approach him, getting clearer the closer he came until he was knelt down beside the hero.

“Here,”, Remus placed Logan’s broken glasses in his hand, “Sorry I couldn’t fix ‘em, it’s not exactly my expertise.”

Logic had so many questions already; how had they survived?! What had Remus done back at Deceit’s lair before he’d passed out?! Why did he still find it hard to use his powers even now he was free of the cuffs?! The hero frowned as his powers refused to work on his glasses. Remus - seemingly uncaring about Logic’s lack of a response - watched him attempt to work before he caught himself.

“Ah, wait. Lemme back up.”

The hero was confused as Remus backed away a good couple of feet from him on what Logic now recognised as the rooftop of the Crofter’s Hotel. He was about to ask for an explanation when he realised his powers were slowly coming back, reslotting the glass into the frames and straightening out the bridge and legs of the glasses. Order maintained once more, Logic donned the glasses, thankful for his vision stabilising. 

“Thank you, Remus.”, Logic went to stand up, but he still felt lightheaded. Thankfully, Remus saved him from toppling over, catching him at the waist and helping him carefully sit back down.

“Careful, Specs. I don’t want my soulmate hurting himself-”

“Apologies, your what?!“

Logic was stunned to say the least; Remus had just thrown that out there like it was any old fact.

“Soulmate. Y’know, your cosmic companion, your destiny dictated darling, your fatemate!”, Remus listed excitedly, “You know all about it right? When you meet-”

“- your superpower is nullified around that person, yes, I am aware.”

Logic wasn’t sure what to think; he’d never paid much thought to his soulmate, in truth, he preferred to think of his work as his soulmate. Not that he didn’t like the idea of meeting the man the universe decided was his perfect match. Nor did Logic mind that the man was rather handsome in the mysterious cryptid kind of way. Logic gestured for Remus to sit with him and extended his hand to Remus for shaking, 

“Logan Berrie.”, Logan offered, trying to settle back into his civilian mindset.

“Pie.”, Remus responded, low-fiving Logan’s hand.

“Pardon?”

“....We’re not playing a word association game?”

“.... I was providing you with my name, Remus.”

Remus grinned, “Wait, that’s your name?! That’s-”

“Ridiculous, I am well aware.”, Logan scowled, “I did go to school after all-” 

“I was gonna say that’s awesome but whatever!”

Logan did poorly to hide his surprise as Remus laid back like he could fall asleep, “So Logan, how’d you fall in with ol’ Snake Face himself?”

Logan rolled his eyes, still propped up on his hands, “The same way all heroes are presented with their arch nemesis; he and I crossed paths and unfortunately, while we share some values, we have vastly differing opinions on how society’s problems should be fixed.”. He glanced over at Remus, fidgeting idly with the corner of the beat up long coat his soulmate wore. 

“What was your transgression?”

Remus squinted at Logan for a second, “I’m cis.”

“... No. Transgression. What was it you did that made my nemesis target you? I noticed you addressed him by a rather flattering nickname earlier, so I assume you know of him personally.” 

“Oooh.”, Remus grinned, snickering at just the memory of it, “I may or may not have pissed off his little brother.”

Well, that had Logan’s attention immediately. The hero lay on his side next to Remus, propping his head up on his hand, ready for the juicy details. He may have thought himself above gossip, but that didn’t mean Logan didn’t enjoy a good old tea party.

“How so?”

With a grin Logan was sure should’ve split his soulmate’s face in half, Remus proudly elaborated, “Well he and my twin brother were dating, and they had a bunch of friends and family all gathered for some bullshit, and my brother wants me to say something - a terrible decision, really - and I’m there kinda caught for what to say. So I’m having to think on the fly.”

“So, what did you do?”, Logan inquired, clearly getting sucked into the plot unfolding.

“I just said the first thing that popped into my head!”

Logan rolled his eyes once more, but there was a fondness to it this time. “Which was?”

Remus proudly cleared his throat, bringing a hand up to clasp an imaginary microphone, reciting perfectly from memory,

“To the seventeen people in this room that all wished they’d taken my brother’s virginity first, just remember this is the guy who got blackout drunk, cried because he couldn’t afford chicken nuggets, and scared a birthday party of kids when he puked up behind Chuck E Cheese’s back in college!”

The snort of laughter Logan let out was disgustingly ugly. He clapped his free hand over his mouth despite his giggling soulmate’s attempt to swat the hand away. Logan finally gathered himself,

“That’s amazing, oh my goodness.”

Remus excitedly beamed, “Ten tittied Christ, thank you!”

What a visual.

He continued to rant, “I knew it was funny! But nooooo! It was all “that's not an appropriate story, Remus”, or “How could you say that right now?!”! They were the ones who wanted me to ad lib a last minute speech! So what if I said it in front of hundreds of people at their wedding-?!”

Logan couldn’t help it, the bellowing laughter that tore out of him was too much to contain. When was the last time he’d laughed so heartily? Logan wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure when Remus joined in with his laughter, but by the time they were done, Logan had laid down next to his soulmate to stare up at the stars. Then a thought hit him,

“Wait, you said your brother and Deceit’s brother are married, correct? Making you and Deceit brother-in-laws? ”

Remus nodded, “Yep.”

“And you’re not on his side, but are-?”

“Nah,”, Remus predicted with a head shake, “Ditz-ney Prince and TT are both heroes, so there won’t be much of a problem with us being a thing. If that’s what you were worried about.”

Logan nodded, though his frown continued into his query, “Ditz-ney Prince and TT are… interesting hero names...”

Remus rolled his eyes as if it was obvious, “Nah, those are nicknames. My brother’s The Prince over in Sanders Town a couple miles out from here, and you probably know the Tempest Tongue-”

“I’m sorry, your brother is married to THE Tempest Tongue?!”, Logan interrupted, though he shot Remus an apologetic look for his outburst. His soulmate chuckled, “Sounds like someone’s a bit of a fanboy.”

“No, no,”, Logan assured him, frowning despite his obvious embarrassment, “Nothing so childish, I merely admire his work-”

“You think he’s hot-”

“I said no such thing-”

“You didn’t deny it either.”

Remus had him there. Logan punched him in the arm playfully and, as if to prove a point, shuffled closer until he was almost laying on Remus. There was a question on Logan’s mind still, and he finally verbalised it as his gaze fell back onto his soulmate,

“Might I ask, how did we escape? I hate to admit it, but I was passed out for the entirety of your rescue.”

“No shit, who do you think had to carry you?”  Remus teased, “I just used my power, wanna see? It’s super fucked up-!”

“No. I mean, I would like to at some point, but I would rather we stay like this. For a little while.”

It felt like his cheeks were on fire, and the sweet smile Remus shot his way had Logan’s heart racing. 

“Sure thing, Specs!”, he slid his hand along Logan’s arm and softly let it card through his dark hair, “And how about after we’re done here we go mess with Snake Face? ”

Logan grinned back at him; why shouldn’t they have a little fun after all?

“What did you have in mind?...”

-----

This was fun! 

I haven’t written many hero fics before so I hope this is okay!

A big thanks to my friends in the discord for helping with this one when I had a writers block moment.

@tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account   @cateye-glasses   @fandomsofrandom

[the-sympathetic-villain]

L’Appel Du Vide - Chapter 1

AO3 | Next | Masterpost

Description: Logan has been captured by a government agency who researches human with supernatural powers. Able to manipulate the world with his mind and tell what others are thinking, Logan finds himself in one of the most high security government prisons in the country that's run by a sinister Dr. Emile Picani. After several long months of deprivation and torture at the hands of Dr Picani, a devilish-looking man with scales on his face will break into the prison looking for Logan's less than friendly bunkmate, but will he be too late? Prompt by @LoganIsACoolTeacher on AO3

Endgame pairings: Lociet, Intruality, Prinxiety

Word Count: 2401

Chapter warnings: Injuries, Captivity, Blood, Talking about a person as if they were an object, Swearing, Attempted strangling, Emotional manipulation, Drugged person, Blackmail, Solitary confinement, Knocked out by blunt object, Violence in self-defence, brief mention of a gun, Threats of starving someone for their cooperation, restraints, crying, Unsympathetic!Emile Picani 

---

    Tears burned at the corner of Logan’s eyes as he stumbled forward and hit the hard ground. The taste of iron filled his mouth as he sucked in a breath and spit the blood out of his mouth.

    Everything hurt.

    The cuts that covered his arms and legs were a burning reminder of the thick underbrush he’d crawled through in his attempt at escaping this nightmare fate. He turned his head to suck in a breath as the pain in his cracked ribs pulled a few choice swears from his lips.

    “Didn’t the doc say not to leave that thing alone?”

    “It ain’t alone. The skiddish one's there to keep it fed.”

    “Didn’t think that one was even still alive.”

    “Probably won't be for much longer if this thing’s half as dangerous as the doc said.” The man's voice paused as Logan turned his head and blinked up at the shadows over him. “Now, let’s go. The way this thing looks at me gives me the creeps.”

    Logan’s head dropped to the ground as his vision swam. His stomach clenched as flashes of the previous night played over again in his head. He curled his knees to his chest, groaning with a pitiful despair as his new reality started to settle in.

    It’s over.

    Everything’s over.

    Logan curled his hands up over his ears as a wet sob was pulled from his throat. The unnerving silence weighed heavily on his chest as he lifted his head to examine his injuries.

    Kill him first.

    The foreign thought jarred him upright, sending adrenaline flooding through his veins as he searched the room. He blinked furiously as he adjusted to burning bright, red warning lights. His glasses had been lost in the struggle that had landed him here and his blurred vision made his heart pound as he tried to locate the source of the voice in the seemingly empty room.

    Shit, shit, shi—

    “Whose there?” Logan called out as the voice continued. The silence was deafening as he scrambled to his feet, shaking as he took in the sterile, metallic walls of the room. A reflective, window of glass spread across the far wall, glinting eerily in the red light illuminating the room. Logan stilled, glancing warily at the two twin cots across the room obscuring his vision.

    “Come out, you cow—”

    A solid force struck Logan’s side, stopping his words in his tracks and sending him stumbling forward onto his chest. His attacker landed on his back straddling across him and pinning him to the ground. He barely had a moment to react before a thick piece of fabric was wrapped around his throat and pulled taut.

    Just hold still—

    The strange man's thoughts trailed off in Logan’s mind as his attention shifted to his own survival. His hands reached to his throat as he flailed, struggling for breath against the makeshift garrote closing around his throat.

    Panic flooded over him as he fought against his attacker’s iron grip. His eyes strained and bulged as he turned blue, just in time by for his true survival instinct to kick in. The air wavered for a moment as Logan felt his energy shift around them. The subtle change continued until the barrier finally gave way. In an instant, his attacker was blown back into the metal wall with a bone-shattering force.

    Logan’s breath caught in his throat as the world went silent. He lifted his head cautiously, pulling the thick strip of fabric from his neck. After a moment,  the shock subsided enough for him to rise to his feet and turn toward the sound of his assailant’s rapid breathing.

    The impact of the blowback from Logan’s psychic shockwave seemed to knock the breath from the man's lungs and his own pain seemed to hold his attention for the moment.

    The man’s unkempt, dark hair covering his eyes contrasted his stark white dress. Logan could see the man was abnormally thin underneath the hospital-like attire, yet it was apparent the muscles in his arms were well-defined, accounting for the strength and precise coordination of his attack.

    “Are you—”

    “—don't come—closer—”

    The man's voice rasped as his head lifted to reveal striking purple eyes. Logan froze in place at the man's glare, staring as the man seemed to flicker in and out of reality before his very eyes. He was disappearing, nearly invisible except where the red light hit him.

    He's like me. He has powers.

    The realization shook him to the core, nearly making him miss the sound of the heavy door opening behind him amidst the pounding of his own heart in his chest.

    “Now, boys. I would hope you knew to behave better than this.”

     Logan head spun on his shoulders at the chilling voice behind him. In the entrance stood a soft-looking young man blocking the exit. His brown sweater vest and fluffy, sandy blonde hair contrasted starkly with the sinister smile on his lips as he stepped into the room.

    An uneasy silence filled the air as a small, glassy-eyed man stumbled into the room behind him, shoved forward by the two guards blocking the door. The stranger's hands were bound In front of him and wore a similar hospital-like attire to his assailant.

    “Pat—”

    Logan startled as the man behind him jumped to his feet with a shout, stepping toward the pale man with glassy eyes swaying uneasily beside the guard.

    “Now, Virgil.” A dangerous glimmer flashed across the soft man's eyes, stopping all movement in the room. His smile widened in a sinister sweetness that turned Logan’s stomach. “I know you don’t think I'm about to reward you for attacking our new guest.”

    “What did you do to him?”

    The desperation in Virgil’s shrill pitch sent Logan shrinking back as the man lunged forward at the guard nearest the glassy-eyed man. Logan looked away, narrowly catching the beginning of the brutality of the guard. He heard a shuffle of movement that ended quickly as a sharp crack pulled a sickening shriek from the man with the dark hair.

    Logan lifted his head to see the man crumple to the ground, his arm hanging loose in its socket. He felt himself gag as the man moaned in pain, limp as the guard yanked him to his feet and spun him to face the man in the sweater vest.

   “I think you've earned yourself a few days in isolation for acting out, Virgil.”

    The piercing purple color of the man’s eyes seemed to dull as fear flashed in the man's eyes and his voice became unsteady. “Please, no—Doc, I'll behave—”

    “I can't have you attacking the others, Virgil.” The man's voice dripped with a venomous sweetness that sent chills down Logan’s spine. “I hate that you force my hand,, but my rules are for your own good.”

    “Please—” Virgil stuttered on his words as he pleaded with the doctor. “—don’t hurt him.”

    “You wound me, Virgil.”

    Logan watched as a sick smile spread across the doctor's voice as his hand reached around the dazed man's shoulder, pulling him closer. The simple touch elicited a visceral reaction from the man called Virgil as the doctor pulled his friend closer.

    “A mild sedative hardly constitutes harm to your friend. It merely makes him more compliant.”

    “You bast—”

    “Language, Virgil.” The doctor’s voice held a finality cut through the man's swears, leaving him shaking. “I assure you do not want to make this any worse for yourself.”

    The man deflated as his bravado melted away and his eyes fixated on the distant gaze of his friend. His gaze dropped submissively and he fell to his knees as the guard’s grip on him loosened.

    “That’s better.”

    A smirk tugged at the lips of the doctor as he tipped his head to the guard in a subtle nod. A fresh wave of horror filled Logan’s   chest as the guard pulled a pistol from its holster and brought it down on Virgil’s temple. He let out a whimper as the man's body went limp between the two men and quickly swept up over the guard's shoulder.

    The subtle sound seemed to draw the attention of the doctor.   His gaze turned from the guard toward Logan as if noticing him for the first time. The intensity of his stare left Logan’s knees weak as he started to edge back against the wall.

    “Oh, hello there.” The malice in the doctor’s voice disappeared as he addressed Logan. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced. What's your name?”

    “L-Logan—” Logan whispered, feeling shell-shocked by the doctor’s sudden change in demeanor.

    “Speak up now. I want to hear your lovely voice.”

     “Logan, s-sir.” Logan swallowed nervously, hating the way his voice cracked as the man smiled at him.

    “Sir's awful formal. We’re all friends here. Aren’t we?” The disbelief must have showed in Logan’s eyes, because the man’s sweetness seemed to turn to regret as Logan stared back at him. “I’m sorry you had to see all that, Logan. Virgil can be a bit headstrong at times and it is my job to ensure protocol is followed to ensure the safety of our subject. Assuming you can follow the rules better than your new bunkmate, we'll get along just fine. I assure you.”

    The doctor stepped forward and extended a hand to him, smiling as Logan cautiously accepted the unexpected gesture.

    “The name is Doctor Emile Picani, head of the government’s department of Preternatural Research and Otherworldly Universal Defense, or PROUD as others have come to know us." The doctor continued as he held his hands together across his chest. “As you are almost certainly aware, your stay here is permanent. Your friends and family will be notified but you will not be allowed to contact them.”

    Logan’s heart sunk in his chest. “You can’t—You can’t just keep me here forever.”

    “For your own sanity, I suggest that you accept that I can and will do whatever I need to ensure this program continues to run smoothly.” Doctor Picani hummed nonchalantly.  “You have been deemed a threat to natural society. Your body is a weapon that could be used to inflict immeasurable damage to the general population, and as such, any rights you claimed as a citizen of our great country have been stripped from you as a matter of national security.”

    Logan felt a lump in his throat aa his knees grew weak. He knew the rumors of PROUD but he'd always assumed there was a degree of exaggeration to the stories. The government couldn’t just treat people any way they liked.

    “On the bright side, you now have the opportunity to be on the front line of scientific advancement." Dr. Picani continued with and exaggerated excitement. “The data we gather from you and our other subjects has the potential to change society as we know it today.”

    Logan swallowed, crossing his arms across his chest as he took as step back. “What kind of data are you collecting?”

    “Nothing for you to be concerned about just yet.” Dr. Picani chuckled to himself and the empty sound echoed on the metallic walls around them. “However, I would like to make you aware of our introductory protocol before I leave to attend my other projects.”

     Logan managed a stiff nod, unnerved by the man's avoidance of his question but too afraid to press further.

    “You will be given three days of total isolation. No meals will be granted until authorized by myself personally.”

    “What?” Logan’s voice cracked as he looked blankly up at the unsympathetic smile on the doctor’s face. “Why—Why would you—I haven’t done anything.”

    “This is standard procedure, Logan. To condition a proper response time to my requests, I find it helps when our guests have proper motivation to participate in our studies.” Picani shrugged as his eerie grin widened. “Don't worry though, you'll have water. I don’t need you hitting the cactus juice this early on in your stay.”

    Logan’s heart dropped at the doctor’s nonchalant attitude. He'd feared the worst, but the flicker of sadism in the eyes of the man in front of him left him weak. “Y-you can’t—”

    “Perhaps, another day of fasting is necessary to convince you of your position here.” The man's voice dropped with a hint of irritation at Logan’s resistance. “The research we do here is essential to the health and well-being of humankind. I will not tolerate my subjects acting out of line.”

    “I—I won’t—”

    “Let me clarify for you—”

    The man snapped his fingers and his guard lunged at Logan.  He flinched, not quick enough to dodge the harsh grip as he was suddenly forced back onto the twin bed. A pained gasp escaped him as a heavy metal cuff clamped down on his wrist and it was yanked up and attached to the metal frame.

    “—the sooner you give up the illusion that you have a choice, the easier your time here will be.”

    “Wait—” Panic flooded over Logan as he rattled the metal on his wrist. Don't—Don't do this—”

    “A very wise fire lord once said that certain people are born lucky and others are lucky to be born.” Dr. Picani stepped forward, smiling as Logan froze like a deer in the headlights. “There are others yet though that I believe are simply lucky to have survived as long as they have.”

    “Please—I'll do anything.” Logan wheezed as his breathing became unsteady. “Don’t leave me alone—Don’t leave me—"

    “Consider this a warning, Logan .” The doctor whispered. A hint of a smile spread across his face as Logan lifted his head timidly to him. Dark shadows pooled under his eyes, made eerie by the glowing red light of the room and the manic glimmer in his dark eyes. “If you choose to fight me, the next few days are just a taste of the misery I can cause you.”

    Logan’s pleas tapered off to silent begging as his heart pounded in his chest. He felt the doctor slip away as tears blurred his vision.  The loud sound of the metal door drowned out the sound of his sobs as he pulled helplessly at his restraints, feeling the weight of the isolation already unraveling the already precarious state of his mind.

---

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed the whump. Poor Logan’s having a hell of a day but on the bright side, the next chapter should be out in a matter of minutes so keep an eye out! Also, please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist as well!

General Taglist:

@justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck @shadowyplaidpurseegg

[creativia10]

Janus in Wickhills Part 1

(Title not certain)

Janus wakes up on a forest floor, having no idea how he got there. He soon learns that apparently he seems to resemble some sort of dead evil faery king, snake scales and all, and he has no idea why. So he finds himself getting wary and suspicious looks from people he doesn’t even know, including the ones who offered to help him. Not to mention, dealing with the confusing nature of the green skinned fae who Janus can’t help but be intrigued by. However, he may come to learn that he is more connected to everything than he was aware.

Warnings : Threats of violence

Notes: So, I decided to go ahead and start posting this story. This is a fanfic au of @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors 's Love and Other Fairytales series. I did not know before that I needed to add in the ‘read more’ link. Since this is a bigger story, I want to do better with that this time. I will probably put specific warnings at the front of each part.

Ok, so here is some setup for the story: This is an au of Laoft where Remus came back several years earlier, and Linda isn’t in the picture yet. With this in mind, setting takes place some time after Logan has become the Seelie court rep.

I do not know yet how long this fic will be, since I am still writing it, or when I will update. So far, I have five chapters written.

Let me know if you have questions about anything, or if I forgot anything.

Chapter 1

Janus stirred, first aware of a dark green surfacing through the little light against his closed eyelids. He slowly blinked his eyes open, not quite aware of everything yet. As his eyes opened he noticed some light coming in through the leaves of the top of the forest. Top of the forest? Wait.

As Janus brought himself to sit up he felt leaves shift below him. He leaned back, thankful there was a tree behind him.

Something…wasn’t right, here. He shouldn’t be waking up on the floor of a forest. He was feeling a great wrongness here. He tried to think back to how he got there, but that only gave him fuzzy images and a dizzying headache. That could not be good. He put his hand against the tree as he stood up. He felt groggy.

How long had he been asleep? That was also concerning.

As he righted himself he looked around. He was definitely in the middle of a forest. How strange. It seemed dark in there though.

He seemed to be in period clothes with a cape, that didn’t feel off at least. He carefully started stepping around, wondering how he should go about this, considering he didn’t know which way was out. Something told him it would probably be a bad idea to call out either, he didn’t know what lurked in these woods. As he started to walk around he tried to find a space between trees that could remotely resemble a path. They didn’t seem consistent though.

He hadn’t gotten far before he heard someone clicking.

“Oh you’ve done it.”

Janus whirled around to face the figure, human-like with an inhuman quality. Fae, his mind supplied him with somehow. Not sure how he knew that.

“Ohh you’ve done it now,” the figure said as they stepped towards Janus. Janus couldn’t help but step away. The fae laughed and then shook their head.

“I don’t know where you got off going around with the dead Serpent King’s face. It’s not going to end well either way.”

Janus narrowed his eyes. What were they talking about? The fae rolled their eyes.

“Oh please, no point in keeping up an act. It’s a pretty stupid thing to do.”

The fae flicked out into their hand a light colored blade.

“We don’t take kindly to mockeries of betraying usurpers around here. You wear his face, you get the same fate.”

Janus gasped and quickly dove away from the blade aimed right towards him. He breathed fast as he quickly tried to get away, not wanting them out of his sight but also wanting to get out of there.

“Help!” He shouted then bit his tongue. That felt like a stupid thing to do. He didn’t know the intentions of any of the creatures around there. An angry snarl came from the fae who attacked him.

“Don’t act so pathetic when you dare to wear that traitor’s face!”

They launched for Janus again. Janus stumbled back, falling backwards when another figure swiftly stood in front of the other fae. Said fae stopped when he did, frowning, but standing down.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“Your highness, I didn’t t-“

“This is still close enough to the revel for me to intervene. What is the issue?”

The fae scowled.

“That bastard made a mockery of the executed king by traipsing around with his face! I was only doing us all a favor by putting a stop to it.”

The royal stiffened and looked around to look at Janus. Janus stood up and eyed him cautiously, poised to take off if he had to, not that Janus knew where exactly he could go.

The royal’s face was unreadable.

“I am here now, so I am not allowing personal justice by killing on sight. I will see to it that this matter is addressed.”

“But-“

“Why do you wear my brother’s face?” The Royal asked Janus this time. Janus just looked at him.

“I am afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He lies!” The other fae cried.

“I do not understand your accusation, seeing as we can only consider a fae capable of such a transformation, and in that case, he would be incapable of lying.”

Fae? Him? Janus felt like whether or not he was fae, should be something he should know about himself. So why did he feel so unsure about that?

The royal gave the fae attacker beside him a sharp look.

“You are no longer helpful to this situation. Go on to the revel now.”

The other fae did not seem happy about this but went off without a complaint. The royal looked at Janus again.

“Explain,” He said.

“Explain what?”

“Explain how you look nearly identical to my dead brother.”

“How the hell should I know that? You’re acting like you’ve never seen someone who looks similar to someone else before.”

“Well his snake scales are pretty iconic to him.”

His what?

Janus took notice of an off feeling, as some things were coming back to him slower. He reached his hand to touch the left side of his face and gasped when he felt not smooth skin but the raised circles of reptilian scales. Well, that mas definitely a magical characteristic. The royal was watching him.

“I, along with many others, also saw him brutally murdered in front of our own eyes, so him seeming alive should not make any sense at all.”

Janus eyes widened at that. What the hell?

This was a lot. He clenched his teeth as he felt the start of what could turn into hyperventilating. That was the last thing he needed right there. To go into a vulnerable state in front of a stranger who clearly viewed him suspiciously.

“Perhaps we should start with what you are doing here?”

Janus sucked in a breath.

“I-I don’t know.” Janus looked at him then broke eye contact. “I don’t know how I got here. I just woke up on the forest floor. I know how that sounds-“

“Not as farfetched as you would think.”

Janus looked up at him in bewilderment. The royal’s lips twitched up briefly.

“Do you know who I am?”

Janus shook his head.

“Should I?”

The royal seemed to withhold a laugh again.

“Some call me the lord of the forest.”

Janus slowly nodded at that. Somehow, that seemed to work, considering how the attacking fae earlier had acted around him.

“I am also known as the spider prince. What is the last thing you remember?” the lord of the forest asked.

“Before waking up?”

He nodded.

Janus pursed his lips as he thought. It was a bit fuzzy. He went up to a tree. There was a conversation with someone whose face he couldn’t recall. Something happened. It wasn’t good. He remembered his consciousness fading.

He hissed and winced. It was clearly not a good memory. The prince frowned.

Janus said, “Not much.”

The prince hmmed. Then he turned around.

“Come with me,” he said.

Janus just stood for a moment.

“I may know of some people who can help,” the prince said. He started to walk away.

“You may want to readjust your hat, though,” he said as he nodded to Janus’ snake side and then began to walk again. Janus turned his hat and pulled it down some, not quite covering the side of his face completely, and found himself following. It wasn’t like he had many other choices anyways.

There were whispers around them. Here comes the prince.

Strange. Who follows him?

Who tries to cover part of his face?

Poor coverage indeed.

Wait is that-?

How can it be?

We saw him dead.

Who wears the dead serpent’s face?

Janus drew himself up and sped up his pace some, feeling extremely uncomfortable. They walked into a very big clearing, filled with people dancing about. There was an overall feyness to it. Many stared at them as they went past. This whole thing seemed to scream danger to Janus. He followed the prince wondering what he was thinking. He didn’t know what the prince thought of Janus at all. They made their way to an area along the edge of the clearing in the back, clearly set aside from everything else. There were three others who looked close in age to the prince. Janus noticed a fey knight off to the side as well. She made her way over to them as the two walked forward. The prince gestured.

“Can you explain this?” He asked her. The fey knight looked at Janus in shock, then her hand made its way to the sword at her side. Janus gasped and stepped back. The prince held up a hand before her.

“I already spoke with him, he claims not to know how he got here. If he is fae, as I suspect, then he can’t be lying.”

The knight frowned but she eased up some.

“That doesn’t make him innocent though.” The other three who had been waiting for the prince stood near them. Varying levels of expressions on their faces.

The knight gave him a hard look.

“What is your name?”

Janus opened his mouth, then paused. You weren’t supposed to give your name to the fae, which she clearly was, along with the prince.

“…you may call me Jay,” He almost wished he had thought of a cleverer nickname, not one that was too close to his actual name. She hmmed, still on guard.

“He never gave anyone his real name anyways,” one of the others standing by them spoke up, who was also dressed like a knight. Although he had an iron dagger on his sheath. The prince nodded.

“I also asked him if he knew who I was and he said no,” The prince said. That caused many confused looks around them. The prince looked to another in their group. Another fae. This one, who also appeared fae, yet strangely wore glasses, tilted his head and looked at Janus in consideration.

“Hmm, well he does seem to be fae.”

“I think the snake scales were pretty telling of that. I also don’t know of any witches who can do that.”

“He did act surprised when I mentioned the scales though, as though he didn’t conjure a glamor for himself.”

“I cannot think of why someone would play at this anyways though. After all, we cannot lie and to our knowledge no one else has transformative abilities like the fae do,” Specs said.

“Aren’t there other faeries who look alike though?” The last one, with curly hair and similar glasses, asked.

The glasses clad fae shook his head.

“Not like this at least.”

“My brother was made to be gentry, as we were made to be ruling heirs of this forest. He and I were the only ones who came into being the way we did. There would be no one like us.”

The one dressed as a knight gestured at Janus.

“Well then how would you explain this!?”

The glasses faery pursed his lips.

“I am afraid I am not sure.”

This was all just really weird. He would have left ages ago if he had any idea on where to go.

“Hey everyone! What’s going on?” A voice called out loudly from behind him, getting closer. “What are you all staring at?”

The people in front of him seemed to grow very concerned as the voice approached.

The glasses fae spoke, “R-Duke…”

Janus found he couldn’t help but turn to face the other. This was a green man. He literally had mint green skin. He hung a spiked mace over his shoulder. The green man, Duke as specs called him, just stared at him, face varying in extreme expressions. Janus wasn’t sure what to make of this. He was starting to get used to the bizarre reactions to him which was incredibly infuriating. There was something about the man before him though. Something familiar that was almost on the tip of his tongue. He seemed handsome too, even with the green skin, and somewhat ridiculous mustache. The man seemed to settle on something.

“What..the hell!?”

( Continues in Janus in Wickhills Part 2)

[zalrb]

hi! same anon from before, hahah. first of all thank u so much for answering - i'm a big steve mcqueen fan too and i was wondering if you were ever interested in reviewing your favourite mcqueen movies? a few words for each kinda thing. i love your movie reviews because way more often than not, i find myself agreeing with you and you seem to find the exact right words. of course, it's merely a request you don't *have* to take seriously.i hope u have a great day!

OK so here is my list, starting from favourite to least favourite. The only feature film of his that I haven’t seen is Hunger.

What I will say are general Steve McQueen characteristics that I like about all of the movies is the fact that his films require patience and attention. If I’m tired or not really in the mood to devote my focus but I want to watch something, I’m not putting on a Steve McQueen film. I want to be fully present. His work demands that. I appreciate that.

I have also come to respect that there are what you would consider holes in his movies. Like we don’t really know anything about Brandon’s backstory in Shame, we know his sister says that they come from a bad place but we don’t know what that place is and the movie doesn’t find it necessary to divulge that information. Widows has a lot of loose ends that a typical heist movie may at least attempt to sort out but I don’t think McQueen really concerns himself with those details, he concerns himself with the emotional present and he concerns himself with the present to such an intimate and almost unbearable degree that it can make you flinch and cringe as a viewer because it’s uncomfortable to kind of stew in emotional truth like that, it’s uncomfortable to stew in the present that way.

There is an artistry and a poetry to his movies, it reminds me of paintings and I can say without irony or without being corny or without being pretentious, that these movies really do examine the human condition, do deep dives into emotion or deep dives into emotions that a particular event or issue would bring about.

1. Lovers Rock

I love this movie for so many different reasons. It means so much to me as a woman of Jamaican descent to see an ode to Caribbean party culture in the diaspora

and even though it’s in London and even though it was in the 80s, there is so much overlap in Canada, it was basically like a spiritual experience watching this movie and on twitter, there was so much outpour of gratitude and feeling seen by Caribbean Canadians, it was like a whole moment, so this movie makes me super emotional.

Like this scene, where they yell “Jah!” “Rastafari!” it got me in my chest and I had never experienced feeling so seen in film before because it’s specifically Caribbean, in this case Jamaican, and what I usually see is African American or movies from the Continent and this was diasporic and it was Caribbean

But what I also love about it is that even though it takes place over one night, it’s a love story between two young dark-skinned Black people and it’s handled with the kind of grace and beauty and weight that I like in my love stories, like it’s not Atonement, it’s not POTC, but it’s this culturally specific courting and coming together and it’s super sweet and just very nice

2. Alex Wheatle

There is this scene in this movie that is excruciating to me in its simplicity and it’s one of McQueen’s techniques or choices. So this installation in Small Axe is about Alex Wheatle who is an author and in the beginning we see his life in an orphanage and how he’s abused and ridiculed and how as a child he would be thrown in a room for hours just lying on his side

Then we get to him as an adult and we see the way the police harass Black youth and they take Alex throw him in the back of their van and he’s bloodied and beaten and he’s just lying on his side for hours. And I cried because that callback to his childhood was so brutal to me even though we don’t see excessive violence onscreen, it was just him lying on his side like when he was a kid and how systems upon systems are failing him and failing Black children, Black people and I didn’t need that spelled out for me, I just needed to see him lying on his side for minutes. And that’s kind of the power of McQueen’s directing/storytelling to me?

Another reason I really like Alex Wheatle - and the Small Axe anthology as a whole - is showcasing Black history in other countries

and it’s a great story about identity and figuring out your history, your roots, where you come from and how it informs you

3. 12 Years A Slave

I didn’t know if I was going to watch 12 Years A Slave or not, I kind of make it a point not to watch movies about enslavement now and I haven’t seen a movie about enslavement since (I did watch the show Underground though). What I love about this movie is how it examines the human condition, how it examines resilience, how it examines the soul, really, through many of the characters but particularly Solomon. It’s that unflinching portrayal of emotion and the present that really stuck out to me. And also again some of McQueen’s choices, like when they’re on the slave ship, for a lot of it we don’t see inside, we see the rudders

but that inspired such dread in me? We see the trees a lot.

We see the setting. We see the environment and that just adds a whole other layer, Lupita Nyong’o spoke about that when filming, about just thinking about the trees and what they witnessed. But I watched it, I didn’t cry until the third act then I wouldn’t stop crying then I pulled myself together and a week later, my roommate was playing it in her room and I could hear it and I was trying to write for workshop and it was just the score that I could hear and I got so emotional I had to ask her to put her earphones in so I could work.

4. Education

This installment of Small Axe was again an educational one for me (pun intended) because I know the ways in which the education system in my country and in my province and in my city fail Black children and I know enough about how that happens in the States, I didn’t know so much about how it happened in England and this was very illuminating for me without it taking on the tone of a docu. There is this scene that is just so uncomfortable to watch because it’s long and it’s boring and it’s irritating and that’s exactly what you’re supposed to feel because you’re supposed to feel exactly what the characters would feel in those moments:

Education also has a scene where we hear an entire song, but it’s deliberately not fun, when the teacher torments all the kids with his acoustic version of “House of the Rising Sun.” Why that song? That happened with me!

Oh my god. The teacher brought in his guitar, and he started to strum. We’re this captive audience. That was it. But it’s interesting, about that sequence. Because it’s funny, and then it gets irritating, and then you get bored. You have to go through boredom to get to the other side of it, and then you get to something else. And then there’s another understanding of it. So it had to play out that way, in real time.

and you know by the end, the movie explores how to engage children, how to encourage children, how to advocate for children and the different ways you can educate children so it’s an optimistic movie and I appreciated that

5. Widows

My second best experience at TIFF (Toronto International Film Festival) was watching Widows. TIFF screenings tend to be very quiet. But there’s a scene in Widows where after the protagonists (four women) do the work and get the money, Daniel Kaluuya watches them, holds them at gunpoint and takes the money, then leaves in his car. Then you’re with him in this car and he’s feeling good about himself and he’s laughing and he’s listening to this speech his brother makes then you see another car gain on him, run into him and it’s the protagonists and they take their money back and the entire theatre cheered and clapped and it was awesome. And that is the type of “girl power” scenes I like that aren’t “girl power” scenes? Where it’s just this man thought he could take what he wanted from these women and leave and they were like ummmmmmm?

I would say Widows is McQueen’s most commercial movie and it still doesn’t read very commercial and unfortunately Liam Neeson is in it but again I like the choices he made, I like that when Colin Farrell’s character is going on this racist rant in his car, we see the exterior of the car with his dialogue as a voiceover.

I like how controlled and tight the direction is and how throughout the movie I was on the edge of my seat in a different way, I was just tense until it was all over. It was also interesting watching his direction with Gillian Flynn’s screenplay interact with each other.

I had issues with this movie, mainly one moment which is when Alice, who is white, slaps Veronica (Viola Davis) -- Veronica slaps Alice first but Alice is a character who has been abused and who has been controlled by the men in her life, by her mother and she’s finding independence and so she exerts that by slapping Veronica back and I just thought there were other ways to show that.

6. Red, White and Blue

Another installment of Small Axe. My first husband stars in it and won a GG for it

and has this gem in it

It’s a good representation of what it looks like trying to right a system from the inside, since this is about Leroy Logan who became a police officer and ended up policing the neighbourhood he grew up in and how he was trying to be a positive change in the environment and in the police force and the racism he experienced as an officer

7. Mangrove

The first installment of Small Axe. To be quite honest I wanted to like Mangrove more than I did. It’s Steve McQueen so it’s a good movie, although the accents had some Trini people I know be like mmmmmmmmmmmmno, and again it’s also an educational movie because you learn about the Mangrove restaurant which was a Caribbean restaurant and hub for the community and for artists and authors and the police saw it as a threat so they constantly harassed the costumers and did raids and did everything in their power to shut it down.

And there are some great lines in this movie, I was most compelled when it became a courtroom drama, because that was some masterful directing

8. Shame

Shame was definitely uncomfortable for me to watch haha and it’s interesting because there were reviews that were like the title doesn’t match what we see because are we really expected to believe that the protagonist feels shame when we see him in New York having anonymous sex with [conventionally] attractive strangers and he has awkward moments with his sister and I was just like ............ if there’s anything McQueen is able to do is show how mechanical and compulsive Brandon’s sexual conquests are and his inability to actually connect because once he does he becomes impotent and pushes Marrianne away, his life is sterile and unfulfilling

so, I don’t know, some of the reviews had me like, what movie were you watching?

[sanderssidesgiftxchange]

happy new year @i-seemtoregretnothing​ !

summary: I created a 1920's mafia(ish) AU, featuring a full illustration for Logicality and AU design references for the rest of the sides! (There are also alternate forms for the refs because foreshadowing and plot hints)

rating: T

warnings: Implied violence, implied blood, potentially disturbing imagery (the alternate forms), guns, knives 

notes: I wanted to try and get a suitable villain aesthetic, to go with your wish of a villain couple AU, but as I was working on it, I realised that I had given it a sort of gangster-mafia heads vibe. I was like "Neat! too bad its not a 1920s AU"  and I went on, before realizing that... wait. It could be. I was the one making this. So, one thing led to another and I was looking up historical references and designing each of the characters. And then I thought up a plot, soooo I had to make the alternate forms to hint at it. And now I have an entire AU on my hands, and a sandbox I'm thrilled to mess around in!! (As a bonus, it now ticks off the forbidden love wish too what with the time period-)" Aaaand I've mentioned that I wanted to include more info about the AU under the cut, so here this mess is!! It contains setting, character info, and their roles in the story-

FIRST OFF- TW for brief alcohol, murder, and gang-related violence mentions!! This is based on the 1920s setting of gangs and speakeasies, after all!! Stay safe!!

With that said...

Let's start off with the main duo, shall we? 

Logan and Patton are both at the head of the business

Said business being a sweet little almost-niche cafe, in the midst of [Insert American city here]

Patton's friendly attitude and welcoming demeanour help very much in giving the cafe a wonderful reputation, small as it is

There's always music playing, whether it's from the record player behind the cashier or a live performer friend who sings at the cafe

All in all, its a nice and cosy place, and pretty popular during the day

But at night~

Well, the 1920s are well known for the prohibition that led to the rise of underground speakeasies and the ensuing gangs, and this story isn't very different

Logan is the reputation holder here, a calculating and intimidating businessman that helps the place thrive

The underground space beneath the Cafe is a splendid speakeasy, with all the charms and stops pulled to make it as glamorous as possible

Here, we meet two of our other characters, Roman and Virgil, who both work at the speakeasy

Roman is a performer, who yes, can play instruments but prefers to sing his heart out with songs of his own composition (Because c'mon. Jazz singer Roman)

And Virgil is the grumpy bartender, who's always watching for a sign that things are going south (He's also a guard, but none of the patrons know that)

Things go on as usual, but the field is competitive. The law means nothing when you're all technically criminals, and attacks are a common threat

Patton doesn't like needless violence. He refuses to 'eliminate' the competition and puts all his efforts into being better than said competition instead

It works for the most part, but it doesn't stop the other gangs from attacking them

This is where things get messy because while Patton refuses to go after people, he will. not. hesitate. to defend his own

Virgil seems to have too experience with dealing with these fights, but he refuses to disclose why. It makes him a good guard, that's for sure

Logan prefers a distant approach. (Most competing businesses find themselves mysteriously bankrupt and notable members are murdered, but nobody has any idea how or why)

Now, I hear you wondering. Where do Remus and Deceit fit in this? Well, it's simple. They work for a different group, this one definitely more of a gang.

Deceit is an informant and spy, his job is to gather valuable information and negotiate deals and the like.

Deceit is, obviously not his real name, but nobody really knows his real name anyways

Remus is a hitman, and not a shy one at that. He's brutal, and scarily clever

Remus and Roman used to share an apartment, but they got into a huge fight one day about their respective career choices and split up.

They haven't seen each other in a while, but they still get updates on how the other is doing by discreet means

They both care very deeply for each other, it's just buried underneath... a lot of issues

Remus and Deceit though, are incredibly close friends, despite the difference in personalities

Deceit is probably the main reason Remus hasn't gotten himself killed yet

They both know Virgil, and vice versa, but nobody else knows why just yet

Remus rooms in Deceit's place these days (It's definitely better than getting repeatedly evicted on his own)

And yeah! That's the basic overview of each character, and it's long enough as it is, so I'll wrap it up here. There's definitely plot, and I've got it hashed out already, but rn I'm exhausted writing this much down as it is ^-^;;The Alternate versions of the character refs should give you a few hints though!! They're meant to be symbolic, so have fun guessing!!

[wastelandcrown]

logan lark’s adventures in trying to appease his parents

CHAPTER 5: helpless

Summary: Logan Lark is a fairly average high school student. By all means, he should be impressing his parents on all grounds. Except...he doesn’t exactly have a social life. So after his parents give him puppy dog eyes, he decides to join the local theatre's youth production. Good grief...His life is about to get weird isn’t it?

Warnings: Potential ooc behavior, Roman is a teenager who makes bad choices, Remus being Remus, Emojis (If I miss something please tell me!)

Notes: This fic is based off an idea from @under-the-blue-moonlight. If you wanna be tagged in chapters, please ask!! Here’s the fluff before the storm!! Next chapter two chapters are Heavy.

Pairings: Intrulogical, Eventual Rociet, One-Sided Logicality, Platonic DRLAMP

Word Count: 3296

Tagslist: @under-the-blue-moonlight @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @im-actually-ok @hauntedturkeycalzonedreamer @croftersjam15 @rainbowsixth @snaketho 

His newfound appreciation for Patton didn’t change the fact that the idea of losing his first kiss to a stage performance sent shivers down his spine. 

It’s not like he didn’t like Patton! That wasn’t it at all! Patton has been sailing in the high numbers ever since they had hung out at his home, Virgil had even made a group chat for the three of them where they talked regularly. It’s just that Patton was Patton. And Patton was certainly not his type. They had tried to practice helpless, but Janus kept telling them they were missing something. Remus said Logan sounded like a “sexless moron”, and though Patton disagreed and blushed furiously, Logan knew he was right. He had never had a boyfriend, let alone a crush on a boy. He knew he was gay because he found certain boys attractive, but he had never liked a guy like that. Yet. 

He figured it would happen at some point, but until that point...he would have to be clueless. He ended up spending a lot of time with Remus as rehearsal continued. Though Patton wasn’t fond of him, he was Roman Repellent ninety percent of the time. Pretending that was all he wanted from Remus was easy. The other option was acknowledging how much he genuinely liked Remus. The whole time he’d known him, he’d told himself to steer clear of him. He’d never managed to do it, but he still told himself to. Something about Remus was interesting. He was a sort of enigmatic person who you could never figure out beyond the persona they portrayed. Logan was nothing if not inquisitive. 

Sitting in the tech booth with Virgil and Remus, watching the Schuyler Sisters vocal practice, he couldn’t really be mad when Remus’ legs fell into his lap. They were in such close proximity, and Remus always seemed to have a need to touch people. Remus is talking about something mindless, and Logan is listening intently.

“If they have the gun, why wouldn’t they just shoot him?” Logan asks.

“That’s what I said! It’s like they don’t care about efficiency! You don’t have to torture every character!” 

“Honestly, I cannot believe they would disregard the gun like that. Why introduce it in the first place?” 

Virgil looks at Logan inquisitively, “Logan, do you even watch that show?” 

“No,” Logan muttered, “Remus just tells me about it a lot.”

“I have no idea how you’re able to follow his train of thought, I have a hard time listening to him about regular stuff, let alone his favourite things.” Virgil says, and Logan knows he doesn’t mean it in a bad or mean way. Anxiety can make a person have a hard time listening, Logan just thinks it’s easy to listen to Remus. 

He’s called back to the stage, so he can practice Helpless with Patton again. Remus moves his legs and pulls Logan up to his feet. They are standing nearly chest to chest for a few seconds, and Logan notices each time they’re this close how tall Remus is. He’s a little over a head taller than he is, and it's jarring to him. Remus pulls him down the tech booth stairs by the hand, practically dragging him like a rag doll. Virgil should feel lucky that Logan didn’t catch his snicker at Logan’s expense. Once Remus is beside his brother in the audience, they begin. 

Patton’s performance is adorable, as usual. For Remus’ tastes it’s a little fluffy, but that’s the song for you. Much too full of innocence, he was about ready to beg for his chance to sing as Maria. He knew he had to wait his turn. Watching Logan’s performance was downright painful. His romantic face was a simple, deadpan thing, and he had flirted with enough boys to know you should never look that bland. Bland of emotion, not bland in general. No, absolutely not. Remus was well aware that Logan was hot, just in the way that cool anime boys are hot. All cold and domineering, but secretly an absolute angel. Remus planned on changing that angelic nature, but he had to give it time. Logan’s rap was abysmal in terms of emotion, and by the time it was over even Patton was cringing a little. 

Roman nudged Remus, smirking as he whispered, “I think he’s hopeless.”

“I think he could use a good teacher,” Remus smiled at Roman’s wide eyed reaction.

“You can’t possibly mean you can you?”

“Oh, I absolutely mean me.” 

Bounding up the stage stairs, Remus forced himself between Logan and Patton who were discussing the performance. Grabbing Logan by the hands excitedly, Remus beamed at him. Logan knew he had a very stupid plan just from the way he smiled. 

“Logie-bear, let me be your personal coach on how to not be an absolutely sexless moron!” 

The entire theatre went quiet.

“Remus, shouldn’t I be the one to help Logan?” Patton asked softly, his smile was nervous and Logan didn’t know why, “I am playing Eliza, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, well, you aren’t exactly dripping in hoes, are you Patton?”

“Wha-That’s not very nice! No, I am not dripping in….h-o-es, but that doesn’t mean you should help him!”

“I wouldn’t mind the help,” Logan chimes in, “I really didn’t want to have to ask Janus or Roman. Remus seems like the best option. He can give me pointers.” 

Patton could argue that Janus and Roman were much better at romance than Remus could ever be, but if Logan really thought Remus was the best option he couldn’t say no. 

When they met up at lunch, the room they had found was empty aside from the three of them. This would prove to be a bit of a mistake. When Logan made a mistake and it was called out by Remus with a quip or a joke about his romance abilities, Patton seemed to get a little huffy. Logan enjoyed his encouragement from Patton, but the comments from Remus always made him force away a smile. He was brutally honest, and Logan liked that. He wanted to be told when he looked like a complete doofus. Patton seemed to not agree, and interjected a lot on Logan’s behalf. After the first few runs, Remus seemed to be getting agitated. All it took was one more comment from Patton before Remus dragged him out by the wrist and shut the door behind them. Logan couldn’t help but wonder why. 

“Will you stop that?” Remus hissed at Patton, they were around the corner but he was trying to be quiet in case Logan was eavesdropping.

“Stop what? Trying to support Logan? You’re just being mean to him!” Patton whispered back, obviously thinking the same.

Rolling his eyes, Remus let out a big huff of amusement, “You’re really dumb, aren’t you Padre? Look at him! He might be hot, but his whole face is like a dead fish when he’s trying to be romantic!” 

“Wait, what?”

“What?” 

Patton blinked slowly, staring at Remus like he had two heads.

“Patton, if I’ve suddenly grown a dick out of my forehead that’s stood at full mast and oozing baby goo, I’d love to hear about it.”

That made Patton recoil, but he raised his voice above an angry whisper to say, “You think he’s hot?”

“I mean...duh? You’re telling me you haven’t noticed?” 

“No! No-I’ve-I’ve noticed! I just-” Patton stops, and Remus is confused now.

With a nervous laugh, Patton mutters, “It’s fine, it’s not like you’re actually trying to...Maria him. Heh.” 

“Oh no, I am. I’ve been flirting with him this whole time, I think he’s just fucking dense.”

With that Remus watches Patton go pale, and force himself back into their practice room. Remus doesn’t follow. He’s pushed enough. If Patton decides to tell Logan though, Remus may have to kill him. He trudges over to the boys dressing room and throws the door open dramatically.

“What’s wrong?” Roman asks with a smirk, “Love confession gone wrong?”

“Pft. More like a bitchy third wheel.” 

Remus lays on the ground, gently bumping his head into Roman’s knee and keeping it there. Roman moves a hand to pat his brother's head, but ends up carding a hand through his hair. 

“Do you wanna pout about it or plan some thematically appropriate revenge?”

Remus lights up, craning his head up to stare at his brother, “I thought you hated Logan!”

“Oh, I do. That’s why I think he should date you.”

They both laugh, and then they get to work. 

After flashing puppy dog eyes to Janus, they manage to convince him to help set up their exclusive after hours group practice. Somehow they rope in Remy, Emile, Logan, and Virgil. They know Emile, Logan, and Virgil will bring Patton. They also know that this is the perfect time for both their agendas. If Roman perpetuates drama, maybe Logan will get stressed and leave. If Remus gets to act out seducing, and-or marrying, Logan, then maybe he’ll have a chance at getting his number. He’ll have to try and get Logan to practice romance with him, because if he waits until he’s Maria he may have lost Logan to the unthinkable. Patton.

The teenagers all meet at a public park picnic table at around six. Patton, Virgil, Remy, and Emile sit on a blanket Patton brought from his car. Roman, Janus, Remus, and Logan sit at the picnic table, though none of them are sitting correctly. Roman takes the lead, standing on the table and addressing the group. 

“My stupid brother and I have brought you all here today for an extra special practice session! We, the leads, have much work to do!” 

Remus nods excitedly in agreement, “I personally think our first order of business should be to help Nerdy McSpecks to not look like getting it on is his worst fear!”

Most people laugh at this, and Logan even smirks a little.

“I’m more than willing to work on that first! It sounds like fun!” Patton chimes in, getting a nod of agreement from Virgil who is splayed out on the grass with his hood pulled over his face. 

“So that Logan can be most equipped, everyone who wants to can try and be Eliza!” Remus calls out loudly, and Remy chokes back laughter.

“That’s totally not just for Remus.” Janus mutters, but Logan catches it.

He’s confused now. If Remus wanted to help him practice he should have just asked? He’s certain that a guy like Remus would ask, but he disappeared at lunch. Logan wonders whether he was embarrassed to ask, but that couldn’t be it. Remus was never embarrassed. Had Patton said something to him in the hall? No, no, he wouldn’t have! Logan is zapped into his own mind, not realizing everyone is looking at him for a response until Patton speaks up.

“Well, he doesn’t have to practice with Remus is he doesn’t want to,” 

He shakes his head, “That’s not it. I was only wondering why Remus hadn’t asked before. It’s out of character for him.”

Remus cackles like a witch and grips his stomach like that was the funniest thing he’s ever heard, “Worried about me, Logie-bear?”

“Should I be? If so, then yes.” 

The whole group was silent until Remus laughed again, giving Logan a playful kick. 

“Get on with your marriage to Patton, loverboy!” 

The practice with Patton went about as well as it did in the theatre. Virgil had a clear view now, and was trying desperately not to break into a fit of laughter at Logan’s expense. It really was funny, the lack of emotion in his face seemed like it was purposeful rather than a genuine lack of knowledge. When they were finished, Remus popped up, taking Patton’s place in front of Logan. 

“First step to flirtation!” Remus begins loudly, most of the group deciding to tune them out while he instructed, “Lose your self-respect!”

“...Absolutely not.”

“Logan, boobear, you need to lose something to get the emotional stick out of your ass!” 

Logan didn’t respond, looking away from Remus. That...that one did hurt. Even if he knew he wasn’t the most emotional person, it wasn’t exactly nice to hear. 

Of course, Remus noticed, “Hey-Uh-I didn’t mean it like that! Maybe...Maybe…” 

A light bulb goes off in his head and he grabs Logan’s hands, he beams as he drags Logan further out into the grass. 

“Remus, what are you-” 

He doesn’t get to finish, Remus places a hand on Logan’s hip and holds the other tightly. 

There’s nothing he can do but follow his lead, getting another very close look at Remus as he places his hand tentatively on Remus’ shoulder. Today his makeup is purple, and his eyes look a lot less wild. His shirt has the name of a band Logan’s never heard of on the front, and his leather jacket is covered in patches and spikes. There’s no mistaking the distinct scent of Roman’s rose perfume, surely he was doused in it after practice to make up for taking a bite out of his deodorant instead of putting it on. Usually it smells awful and makes Logan want to gag, but something about a scent so sweet on a person so wild almost makes Logan lose his grip. Dancing with him is mindless, he’s being led like they’ve danced together a thousand times. When Remus raises his arm and spins Logan out, his demeanor breaks. He smiles softly, not because of the dancing, but because Remus is looking at him with the widest grin he’s ever seen. His teeth are so sharp, and on his face it looks so right. 

He feels breathless when Remus spins him back in.

“You look happy,” He chimes into his ear, “Could it be that I’m already a talented seductress?”

Logan presses his head back into Remus’ chest and really laughs for the first time in a long time. 

“Eliza,” Logan starts slowly, moving back to dancing position, “I don’t have a dollar to my name.”

Remus is confused for a moment, then has to fight back his blush.

“An acre of land, a troupe to command, a dollop of fame,” Logan has no idea the group is staring at the pair. 

He’s wrapped up in dancing, a sweet smile on his face, “All I have’s my honor, a tolerance for pain, a couple of college credits and-”

“Your top notch brain,” Remus spins Logan again, and boops his nose before he returns a hand to his hip. 

He can’t help but laugh again, “Insane, your family brings out a different side of me, Peggy confides in me. Angelica tried to take a bite of me-”

Remus feigns an offended gasp at this which makes Logan laugh a third time, “No stress, my love for you is never in doubt,”

Now Remus can’t stop the blush on his cheeks, with the combination of the lyrics and Logan’s laughter there’s no way he wouldn’t. 

“We’ll get a little place in Harlem and we’ll figure it out,” 

The dancing has led them into a more secluded area now, and though the others are peering through trees to try and see the pair but they can only see their legs. 

“I’ve been living without a family since I was a child,” They stop dancing and stand and sway together. 

Logan and Remus stand chest to chest, “My father left, my mother died, I grew up buck wild.”

“That’s more of a me thing-”

Logan rolls his eyes and plays him off, “But I’ll never forget my mother’s face, that was real.”

He raises a hand and cups Remus’ cheek like he does in practice with Patton, and Remus nuzzles into his palm. Patton does that too, but somehow this feels more...intimate. It must be the privacy.

“As long as I’m alive, Eliza, I swear to god, you’ll never feel so…” 

Remus clears his throat then moves his head out of Logan’s hand, but doesn’t step away.

“If you’re that good with me, why not in practice?”

Logan is compelled to tell the truth, “Don’t laugh.”

“Mmm, No promises.” He’s clearly teasing, Logan knows him well enough to know he means he won’t.

“I have to kiss Patton at the end of the song. I think it freaks me out. I-I’ve never-” 

Remus smirks, he squeezes Logan’s hip a little, “You know you have to kiss me too, right?” 

“Somehow, that freaks me out less.” He admits, because he’s on a particularly honest streak. He doesn’t know why the idea of kissing Remus doesn’t perturb him. He watched him bite his own deodorant stick today. Bite, chew, and swallow. 

“You know that’s weird as shit, right? Patton looks like the definition of a good kid, and is basically the sweetest person ever. You’d rather lock lips with the resident fucktard?”

“I don’t think of you like that.”

Remus has to take a step back and cover his face with the sleeve of his jacket. 

“Logan,” Remus starts in the quietest voice he can manage, “You know you don’t have to kiss either of us, right?”

Logan makes an agreeable noise and nods, so Remus takes his arm back off his face. 

“If it’s somehow less weird for me to be your first kiss, then you know I’d kiss you right?”

Whipping his head around and looking slightly shocked, Logan whispers, “Right here?”

“Take me for a coward, Logie-bear?” He teases, stepping back into Logan’s personal space.

Logan smiles wide, something he’s going to have to grow accustomed to Remus drawing out of him, “Only on occasion.” 

Which is somehow the perfect answer for Remus, who laughs beautifully and takes Logan’s chin in his hand. The kiss is short but more delicate than anything Logan had ever witnessed Remus do.

Moments after, Janus yells at them to stop making out, and Remus throws himself through the trees to yell at him. 

Logan has to take a moment and take in the fading tingle on his lips, it’s magnetic. 

“Logan?” Patton had come looking for him, “You okay?”

“Yes, very. Remus was very helpful.”

Patton smiles at him, “I saw that laughing you did! You looked so happy!”

“I…” Logan is stunned from words, but Patton picks up the slack. 

“It’s okay, I get it! Virgil gets embarrassed about laughing like that too!” 

He follows Patton back to the group, and they move on. Logan’s mind won’t stop racing, and he can’t stop thinking about Remus. Patton and Remus are critiquing Janus’ performance of Wait For It while Logan sits with Virgil in the grass. 

“Do you want his number?”

“Whose?”

“Remus’ number. Do you want it?”

“Why would I-”

“You looked like you wanted it.”

In the end, he gets Remus’ number. He texts him later that night after he finds himself unable to sleep and unsure why.

‘I apologize for the late hour, but this is Logan. I couldn’t sleep, and Virgil gave me your number this evening, so you can see as to why I am texting you now. I wanted to thank you for all your help today. I had fun, which surprises me. I do not say that often.’

Barely a minute later, he gets a response.

‘😍😍😘😘OH MY GOD LOGIE-BEAR YOU ASKED FOR MY NUMBER!? YOU SHOULD HAVE JUST ASKED ME!! 😍😍😘😘🤬🤬🤬Anyyyyyywayyyyyy If you can’t sleep maybe I can entertain you ;)))😳😳😳😳’

‘I would enjoy that. Isn’t there a new episode of that show you like out tonight?’

‘THERE IS!! I can’t believe you remembered 💕💖💕💖💕💖SO I’ll give you my IN DETAIL thoughts on this weeks 🤬🤬HUGE fucking disappointment!🤬🤬’

Logan didn’t end up sleeping until the early hours of the morning. 

[98prilla]

Turned

Next

Previous

AO3

...

The silence was tense and awkward as Patton sat beside Virgil at the kitchen table, across from Remy, who’s posture was carefully loose and carefree. He occasionally caught a flicker of Remy’s eyes looking at him from over his dark glasses, and Virgil was still squeezing his hand. He could feel the nervous, angry energy radiating from Virgil, and the longer the silence the more tense it got, until he couldn’t take it anymore.

 “So… you know Virgil, huh?” He asked. Wrong thing to say. Virgil tensed, and Remy frowned, before it slid into a smirk.

 “Oh babes, that’s funny. So you haven’t told them about us, hmm?”

 “Shut up.” Virgil muttered warningly, only causing Remy’s smirk to grow, something hard in his eyes.

 “So what do they know, Virg? Have you told them that you’re An-“

 “SHUT UP, REMY!” Virgil yelled, slamming his hands on the table and jumping out of his chair so fast it toppled over, eyes burning.

 “Guess that answers that question. Imma take it as ‘no’?” Remy asked, sickly sweet, leaning back so his chair was balanced on the two back legs, feet on the table as he raised a brow, sipping his drink.

 “That isn’t who I am, anymore. It isn’t who I ever wanted to be. It’s what Janus made of me.” Virgil growled, and Remy scoffed.

 “Please. How long has it been, since you used any magic? Seven, eight years now?”

 “So?”

 “So, how do you think I found you, when you’ve been ever so careful not to leave a trace? You made a pact, you made a bond, and no matter how far you run or how well you hide, there’s no out. You’re bound to me, and to him, no matter how much you wanna pretend otherwise.” Remy replied.

 Patton gasped as Remy waved his hand, revealing a faint, glowing violet thread that reached from around Virgil’s right wrist to Remy’s, another thread extending from his left wrist and out through the walls. Remy had another thread leading away as well, both of them golden, though Virgil’s glowed much fainter, much thinner, than Remy’s. Patton looked down at himself, surprised to find a nearly clear string attached to his own wrist, though it hung limply, clearly not active. Virgil snapped and the glowing threads vanished, leaving him glowering down at Remy.

“Then go find him! Clearly you and your magical prowess should have no trouble finding the snake in the grass. Just be careful where you step and you’ll be fine!” Remy hissed out a breath, getting to his feet as well, anger flashing across his face for the first time.

 “Were you not listening, or are you just that much of a stupid bitch? He got taken. He’s probably in their nest right now, meaning It’d be suicide for me to go in alone after him, not to mention if they’ve thralled or turned him by now! So unless you want Janus to become like It-“ Remy gestured to Patton, who flinched back, and Virgil growled, lightning flashing in his eyes and crackling across his palms.

 “One more word, Remy, I dare you to say one single more word-“ Startling blue flared to life in Remy’s eyes as he set aside his drink, stepping forwards. Virgil stood firm, refusing to move, refusing to let Remy get between himself and Patton.

 “What happened to you, Virg? You used to be strong. Now you won’t even let me do our job.”

 “He’s not a job, he’s a person. Not everything that’s different is a monster, Remy. If you haven’t figured that out yet you need to grow the fuck up, and step the fuck back. You’re in my house, Sleep.” Remy’s eyes flickered under his glasses, about to say something else, stopped by the sound of the door opening.

 “We’re baaaack! Miss us, heart attack tonight and sweet fang?” Virgil stepped back, letting out a small, relieved sigh. He needed the others, he couldn’t do this right now, he couldn’t handle Remy, right now.

 “Roman, surely that was a little ‘much’, perhaps they were still sleeping.”

 “Then they have been woken by my dulcet tones.” Virgil huffed, rolling his eyes.

 “In the kitchen. With a little situation.” Instantly, Roman sprinted into the room, managing to smooth over his obvious panic when he saw everyone ok, doing a slight double take at the stranger at the table.

 “What is this situation?” Logan asked, much calmer, stepping out from behind Roman, though his eagle sharp gaze never strayed from Remy, seemingly burning into his soul.

 “He’s the situation.”

 “He seems to not be causing any immediate harm.” Virgil scowled at Logan’s words.

 “That’s the problem. You don’t see him coming, then he explodes when your back is turned.”

 “Me? Oh, that’s a laugh and a half.” Virgil flinched, taking a step back. He could remember a dozen times he’d heard that phrase, a dozen times it was said in jest, in frustration, in sarcasm. “You’re the one who turned your back on us. You’re the one who left us to deal with the fallout. You’re the one who wasn’t there so Jan got taken!”

 “THAT WASN’T MY FAULT! You always go poking your nose places it doesn’t belong, you always leap before you look, you never consider the consequences of your actions, you and him both always think you know best, when you don’t know anything at all!” Virgil shouted back, fists clenched at his sides.

 “That’s why you are the third member, to keep us from getting into this mess!”

 “Don’t put this on me! You never listened when I was there! You never bothered to actually care about me! Janus just cared about my power, and you just cared about his approval, and neither one of you cared if what you were doing was right!” Remy let out a harsh laugh, throwing his glasses aside as he rubbed his face.

 “Oh, you are unbelievable! He took you in, he saved you, he taught you everything you know, and you think he didn’t care? You think I didn’t care? You think it didn’t hurt, watching you walk away from everything we’d built? Why do you think we never filled your spot? Because Janus was still waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and come home!”

 “I am home. So you can either accept that and stop berating me and my choices and my family, or you can leave.” Remy snatched his glasses, nearly crushing them in his fist, a wicked smile on his face, that had Virgil’s stomach sinking and a chill running up his spine.

 “Fine. When you change your mind, you know where to find me. You can change your name all you want, Virgil, but that doesn’t change who you are. You know as well as I do, that you’ll always be part of this coven. You’ll always be Anxiety.” Remy vanished in a puff of smoke, and Virgil stared dumbly where he’d just been standing for a few long moments, before he pressed a hand over his mouth, breath speeding in and out, heart rate racing.

…

Anxiety. The name echoed in his ears, something he’d tried to forget, someone he’d tried so hard to pretend he’d never been, someone who had been terrible and awful and cruel, someone who would have killed Patton on the spot had they met, regardless of his cheery smile or bubbly personality, regardless of the fact that he was an ethical vampire, regardless of the fact that he had people at home who loved him.

 Anxiety wouldn’t have hesitated. Anxiety had done it before, after all, dozens of times. Vampires, werewolves, wraiths, anything non-human was fair game, no matter how well integrated into human society they were, they had still been a threat, a ticking time bomb waiting to blow, and needed to be disarmed before they could do damage.

 Anxiety had been saved from the streets when he was a child by Deceit. Adopted into his home, raised with Sleep as an older brother, quickly becoming part of their Coven. He’d excelled at magic, a quick, fast learner. Sleep, his ability to control dreams, to get into people’s minds as they slept and poke around, to hypnotize and trance beings into submission, finding weaknesses and information. Deceit, with his ability to twist lies into truth, to trap people under his siren spell of words, until you would do whatever he said, even if it meant slitting your own throat. Anxiety, his power to move unseen through the shadows, to slip between them and use them, to make his enemies’ fears come to life before their eyes.

 Anxiety had been molded, raised, used, by Deceit. He knew this now, he recognized the brainwashing, all the small lies that Deceit had instilled into him, he’d spent years trying to parse out the truth, trying to get that voice out of his head, until only his own was left, he’d spent so much time trying so hard to trust the others, because Deceit was always there, whispering that he was better off alone, whispering that he wasn’t worth their time, whispering how could anyone love you? If only they knew what you’d done, they would never have let you in.

 Anxiety had worked so hard to stop being Anxiety, and to just be Virgil. And now, now it was all crumbling down. Because their coven had a reputation. No one had known their identities, no one still did, outside of the three of them, but everyone knew and feared the trio of monster slayers, whispered about them in the night, afraid their words would summon the coven to their door, everyone knew the stories, the speed and brutality with which they dispatched their kills, the count higher every day.

 He’d heard the rumors start, after he left, that someone had finally gotten the upper hand, finally slain the shadow Anxiety, and he let them think it. He didn’t care, it was true, in a way, Anxiety was dead, but not at a monster’s hands. He’d been killed by himself, the moment he’d stepped out that door and ran, not looking back. The moment he’d sworn not to use his magic ever again, so they couldn’t trace him, so they couldn’t call on him, so they couldn’t summon him and use him.

 It had worked. The bond was still there, would always be there, but Remy hadn’t been able to summon him. Hadn’t been able to call on their bond to force him to help, it was weak, though his use of magic this morning had no doubt given it a little bit of life, not enough to matter. He wouldn’t feed that bond, he wouldn’t give it any strength, he wouldn’t let it get there. He couldn’t.

 But they wouldn’t want him anymore. Not now that knew what he was, the monster, he was, not when Pat was a vampire, and they would expect him to snap any moment like a spring coiled too tight, not when there was so much innocent blood on his hands, not when he could be used to find them, to follow them, not if Remy was insistent and kept coming around, not if Remy found Janus-

 His stomach flopped at the very idea of seeing him again, of being face to face with him, of his honey sweet words infecting his mind, and he nearly retched at the thought of Janus spinning those lies against the others, driving them all insane. He couldn’t watch that happen, he couldn’t withstand that voice, he would crumble, instantly crumble, and all of the work he’d done wouldn’t mean a thing, because the second those shining gold eyes met his he’d be lost.

 And if he couldn’t stand against Janus, then Patton-

 So what, if Janus was taken? Maybe he was getting a taste of his own medicine. Maybe Remy was better off without him, with time, his mind would clear and he’d see how they did more harm than good, maybe everything would be fine.  That’s what Anxiety would have done, after all, stood back and watched. Even if Janus was only thralled, that was still a threat to the group’s security, the vampire could use that bond against them, so there would be no coming back even if they rescued him, unless they killed whatever vampire had used him. Which they would, of course, solving that problem.

 He was considering this. Gods, he was actually considering this, why was he actually considering this, why did he even give a shit, after everything, why did he still care?

 “virgil?” Patton’s voice, small and hesitant, reached through the fog of panic clouding his mind, though he flinched away from Patton’s touch. His heart was pounding out of his chest, and he couldn’t look up, couldn’t see their faces, would stave off the rejection and fear and horror as long as he could. He could feel the sob building in his throat, and he needed to leave, he needed to go, he needed to be anywhere else when he fell apart, because they shouldn’t be obligated to comfort him, when they were just going to kick him out later anyway. He could hear ringing in his ears, could feel something wet on his face, but it was distant and wrong and he needed out, he was backed into a corner and he needed out.

 So he did what he always did best. He ran.

 He shoved past the others, sprinting down the hall, slamming the door shut and locking it, before scrambling back, eyes darting wildly for somewhere to hide, because this was too open and his mind was screaming ‘danger, not safe,’ when his gaze locked on the closet. He pulled open the sliding door, shoving it closed behind him as he sunk to the ground in the deepest, darkest corner, finally letting a muffled sob tear from his lungs as he curled into himself.

[briannajones]

[SAMANTHA LOGAN, F, SHE/HER] who’s that? oh it’s {BRIANNA “BRI” JONES}. i hear they’re {SIXTEEN} and a {JUNIOR} at {WMHS}, and are part of {ATHLETIC DEPARTMENT TA, VOLLEYBALL}. they’re known to be {AGREEABLE, RESILIENT} and {UNSURE, DISSATISFIED}. some people say they remind them of {A CLIPBOARD IN HAND, WALKING ON CRUTCHES, JOYFUL FAMILY DINNERS, UNANSWERED PRAYERS, AND IMMEASURABLE FRUSTRATION }. only one way to find out! [syd]

basics

Full Name: Brianna Dee Jones Nicknames: Bri, Broanna, BJ Birthday: May 4th Age: 16 Place of Birth: Lima, Ohio Sexuality: Heterosexual Education: High School Junior Activities: Volleyball (formerly), Athletic Department TA

astrology

Sun: Taurus Moon: Aries Rising: Pisces

likes/dislikes

Likes: summer days, cute hydroflasks, cacti, baking, family game night. Dislikes: crutches, the nickname “bj”, physical therapy, cold colors.

tl;dr bio

Bri Jones was set to be Volleyball Captain her senior year of high school, but tearing her ACL early on in her junior year season has left that goal far out of sight. While she’s still in recovery, she’s ready to make a full comeback for her senior year. In the mean time, her Uncle Sam has set her up as a “Teacher’s Assistant” for the Athletic Department to give her something to do in the mean time. With this newfound role in Mckinley’s walls and her agreeable disposition, Bri has found herself stuck as “one of the boys.” Beyond wanting to be fully healed, she also wouldn’t mind being seen as a girl.

bio

On a bright and sunny saturday in May, a very pregnant Mercedes Evans wheeled down the halls of Lima Memorial Hospital, husband and son in tow, to go meet the newest edition of the Jones-Evans clan, little Brianna Dee. Despite being older than Mercedes, Devon put his career before his family, and allowed himself to become an established Pastor before him and his wife, Angela, chose to have children. Once that choice was made, it was like within the blink of an eye, Devon and Angela’s only daughter was born at three pm on the dot. Brianna was a perfect child from birth. Like most babies, she cried when she met the cool sting of the world, but once she was placed in her mother’s arms, Bri hardly fussed. She just laid there and slept like an angel. Oddly enough, this type of passive behavior would stick with her from there on out.

Growing up, Bri was always close with her cousins and their family. Weekly family dinners were tradition and she loved getting to go to school with Cam and Jaz. She loved playing with them, going to their house, and spending time with the Evans’ as a whole. Whether it be the loving advice she got from her Aunt Mercedes to stand up for herself, or from her Uncle Sam on how to throw a football better, it was like she had all sorts of adults and friends around to teach her about the world she was living in.

Devon might have been a Pastor, but the older Bri got, the less faith she found. Sure, she grew up going to mass every Sunday, and being heavily involved within the church, but it isn’t something she wholeheartedly is passionate about like her father. Similarly, she doesn’t hate her Father’s profession. She still helps out at the Church and tries to keep the Jones name clean. Even with these reservations, Bri loves and admires her Father too much to raise her questions and cause issues. Instead, she plays her part happily as preacher’s daughter. Just like Bri always went to services with her father, Bri had always been an athlete. At a time, she wanted to be a singer like her Aunt, but with little to no musical talent, she fell in love with sports. And eventually Volleyball.

Reaching high school, Bri found quick success in Volleyball and was fast to make her sport her whole life. Despite being an underclassmen, she was one of the better girls on the team, and there were even talks of her getting to a point where she could be Captain Senior year. She bonded with the girls on the team and with middling popularity, athletic ability, and a noncontroversial tongue, she was usually safe from some of the brutal slushying that went on behind Mckinley’s walls. Bri has never tried to make a lot of friends, but with her sense of self relying on what others anticipate her being, she’ll often serve as a yes man to whoever she’s speaking with. While some might find this to be a problem, Bri figures, what else is adolescence first if not self discovery?

For the first half of her athletic career, she maintained the routine of play volleyball, get good grades, train, go to church with Dad, and repeat. That was until at the beginning of the 2040 Volleyball season, Bri wound up tearing her ACL. This meant she’d be out for a minimum of three months, which meant no volleyball for the year. Bri was devastated. Humiliated. Frustrated. She felt helpless and downtrodden for the first chunk of her injury. Her Father’s solution was naturally to assure this was part of God’s plan, and she just had to pray for a swift and full recovery. But no matter what Bri did, it seemed she couldn’t pray hard enough. This only worsened her defeated mood. When she returned to school, luckily, her Uncle Sam had a plan to help her turn the beat around.

With ties in the athletic department, he set his niece up as “Teacher’s Assistant to the Athletic Department.” which really has just been proven to be a fancy way to say glorified sports team manager. Oddly enough, Bri doesn’t mind the responsibility. In fact, it gives her a sense of purpose. Turns out sitting on the bench for the latter half of football season wound her up with a whole team of guys to supplement the friends who hadn’t even checked in on her after her injury wasn’t half bad! Now she manages multiple sports teams, and is just happy to be involved. While it’s a touch lost on her how she wound up accepted into the jock-guy circle, she rather enjoys it, BJ and Broanna name calling and all. Some have suggested it’s due to her affinity to just agree with and validate whatever, but that couldn’t possibly be the only reason.

 Regardless, Bri is happy to have found this new sense of community while she works on recovering and preparing for the next season of volleyball. Though lately, she’s begun to wonder, is it entirely worth it to be looked at as one of the boys?