#but the fact is people have lost that bid in the past

[zooophagous]

"Copying a photo to near perfection in a painting is a valid and true display of skill and artistic merit"

And

"Not every photo you find online is yours to be used as a stock photo however you want"

Are two takes that can and do exist together lol.

[moondirti]

animalic (3)

← chapter two // series masterlist

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader rating: mature word count: 2.2k summary: he's got a plan that neither of you like warnings: enemies to lovers, predator/prey dynamics, biting, bondage, temporary paralysis, concussions, miguel is not nice, no use of y/n notes: this was supposed to be longer but the cut off at the original point was super awkward. this chapter is super exciting for all you fang lovers out there

You really can’t catch a break. 

The city bustles with a verve rivalling your own, a kaleidoscope of luminescence dancing upon the glass facades of its skyscrapers. Their spires pierce the ink-dark cloak of night, and if you weren’t so busy running for your life, you’d stop to admire the way their aviation obstruction lights mimic the stars back home. 

(Everything has a trade off, you suppose. You remember what it was like as light pollution gave away to reveal the cosmos above, the beauty of it lost upon your own grief.)

Now, it’s fear – clinging like a shadowy spectre to your heels. The pavement is unforgiving beneath you, each step sending a jolt of energy through your bones. Despite it, you can’t go any faster. Sidewalks crowd with the humdrum of everyday life – people filtering out from work and bodegas, dressed in a slightly odd fashion, their clothes a reminder of your unfamiliar landscape. Car horns blend into one another, providing an unsteady tempo to the race of your heart. 

It’s disorienting, all of it. Times like these, you wish you’d been given the opportunity to hone your abilities. Stamina, flexibility. Web shooters in particular would have proved handy in avoiding the bustle of the ground. 

Of course, he has that advantage on you too. 

You can’t see Miguel, but you sense his proximity. It prods you, nipping at your flesh in a constant assault, intensifying goosebumps and raising hairs. Your spider sense usually doesn’t last this long, solely serving as a warning for immediate danger. Yet that’s just what he is, immediate. Dangerous. Predatory eyes track your every move, sourced from all directions. He’s everywhere; atop buildings, within alleys. Neon signs morph into twisted apparitions; serrated talons, red skulls. 

How did he track you down so fast? 

The day pass? 

You wonder if he’d brought back-up – whether there are other spider-heroes here who trust in his noble cause. Your anxiety triples, and passerby’s begin to warp too. Their hurried footsteps now strike discordant notes, amplifying your isolation. You think you see some tense their wrists, or unbutton their coats, ready to reveal their tailored suits and ensure the capture you’ve managed to evade thus far. 

It’s luck. It’s only ever been luck, and that fact changes depending on who you ask. You’ve never outsmarted him, never disabled him. You just so happen to have the power of being a pain in his ass. 

Something itches at you, though. A nagging sense of foreboding. His presence in the past has spurred chagrin, annoyance, and – admittedly – arousal. But the genuine terror that lights your nerves now is new. Perhaps because you understand him, are far more familiar with his pride than most. The logical part of you can predict that he won’t let you off so easily, not after your stunt with the kiss. You won’t – can’t – get away this time, even if it damn well nearly kills him. 

Any hope you had of a bargain dissipates, rolling back from shore and into the depths of an elusive sea. You jerk the rubber band off your wrist, throwing it into some undisclosed corner.

In a then desperate bid to throw him off, your path loses cohesion. Like a leaf seized by a tempest, you turn based on split-second instinct, weaving through the labyrinth of New York’s grid. Your body sways in frenzy, bolstered by pure adrenaline, which works to dim everything else. Your ribs haven’t fully healed yet – they’d taken a pretty bad beating upon your last fight with Miguel – but you can barely feel the ache as you focus purely on the task at hand. 

Your determination surges, recklessness taking hold of your rationale. Veering abruptly, you just about collide with the racing line of cars that flow at a green light. In fact, you think you do. Your skin prickles, and a taxi runs straight through you, blearing a loud honk all the while. Some vehicles break off, drifting around your form at the last minute. In your peripheral, you can see the glowing red of your pursuers web, stretched across the gap between two apartment complexes. 

Chest tightening, your breathing loses depth at the sight, shallowing to leave room for the distress that torrents up your system. You clamber up on the hoods of parked cars, using a mast arm pole to propel yourself forward. It’s a fruitless effort. You know it’s too late – have known it since he walked into that convenience, prowling in search of one thing. 

(A lion only catches its prey a quarter of the time. But that twenty-five percent?)

Your ankle is the first victim to his hardwearing web, wrapped in the silk and pulled out from underneath you. The back of your head smacks into the concrete below, a high pitched ring reverberating through your skull upon impact. The collision sends a shock wave of pain throughout your being, and in that harrowing moment, everything stutters to a crawl. Spots speckle behind your clenched eyelids, metallic warmth flooding your mouth.

Well, fuck. 

To add insult to injury, your atoms rip apart and splice into one another, a consequence of your abandoned day pass. The glitch aggravates the headache that begins to pound at you. You’d allowed yourself to forget how bad it could be. 

The willpower that had just played a forefront in your mind steadily starts to trickle out, absorbed by your humiliation and the ground below. 

“You really gonna give up that easily?” 

Yes. 

You make a point to never lie to yourself. In truth, you won’t ever get enough of Miguel’s cadence. Deep and resonant – it smoulders with a charred ruggedness. Commanding attention, rumbling like distant thunder, an unmistakable authority woven into each word. Yet, even amidst the rough contours, there lingers a softness, a subtle grace that soothes the edges of his threats. 

(Sharp claws, sharp teeth, sharp cheekbones. Soft voice.)

More webs bind you, erupting from an unclear point to circle your legs, chest, and secure your arms behind your back. You’re diminished to little more than an aggravated caterpillar, ensnared in a spider’s web. And, just as his little game of bondage draws to a close, said spider stalks within view, splitting through the crowd that quickly forms around the commotion. 

With his mask on, he stands as completely impenetrable. You, on the other hand, try to reduce your quivering the best you can, afraid of relaying how truly pathetic you feel. 

“Maybe I’m biding my time.” You bite back, calling on a complete bluff. “I’m sure you know how good I am at that?” It’s a low blow. Even if you could control when and where to phase out, you wouldn’t get very far before he catches up to you again. 

But Miguel doesn’t waver in his closing in – not until he towers over you, looking down at your incapacitated state. Space buckles under the gravity of his existence; you, too, can feel yourself sinking, drawn in closer by the credence that bubbles off him in flares. You wish you had a cover – your pair of makeshift goggles, a face mask, anything that could elevate you to a degree relative to his. But you’re bare, figuratively naked, and you’ve never hated him more. 

He lingers, assessing you, weighing his options. The moment he turns to survey the mass of people who look on inquisitively, you wiggle upward into a sitting position, then throw your head forwards, aiming for his crotch. His wrist gets in the way, though, blocking your pitiful attack on his only defenceless area. Your forehead cracks against his dimensional travel watch, shattering its screen. 

“Tu puta madre!” Miguel hisses, snapping back to survey the gadget while you begin to slink away. He seems to have an eye on you, however, because you’re tugged back just as soon as you make the effort.

Like a naughty cat. You shift uncomfortably at the thought. 

“Are you gonna spend all night deciding what to do with me, then? I have plans, even if you don’t.” 

“Plans. I have plans alright.” The low timbre of his threat slices you where it hurts.

With a calculated flex of his shoulders, he crouches down, gathering the webs around your arms. They serve as leverage when he hauls you upward, exercising his muscles – of which you’d suspected had been padding up to this point – with one swift motion. The world upends on itself, nausea enveloping your senses with its oppressive weight. It allows space for little else; not the uncertainty, not the trepidation. You divert all your efforts on keeping your scarce lunch down, accepting the possibility of a concussion by product of his less-than-refined manhandling. 

The journey to wherever he takes you is not at all long enough for you to recover. Before you know it, he’s busting through the creaky door of an empty storelot, carelessly tossing you to the floor. Your vision doubles. 

Yeah. Definitely a concussion. 

Like you could afford one right now. 

“You’ll stay, and you’ll listen.” He points an accusatory finger. 

“Sure. Until I’ve had enough, that is.” 

“And where would you go, exactly?” 

“Nice try, O’hara. Like I’d tell you,” Snickering, you let your head roll to face the ceiling. The action sends you back to earlier, to the robbery you’ve been seeking to suppress. How careless you’d been, letting your fortune to date trick you into thinking that any collateral was safe too. You’d killed that woman. You. “Maybe I’ll fall right through the floor. That way, you’ll never have to worry about seeing me again.” 

The notion makes him pause mid-pace, hands on his hips, tilting his head to look at you with what you imagine is the most earnest glare. The air bobs, suspended in static tension, a crackling constant that only unravels once he seems to make up his mind. 

Marching forward, he drags you along with him to a nearby wall, upon which he then pushes you upward until you have to look down to meet his eyeline. Your bound legs kick forward, but the struggle hardly affects him. 

“I didn’t want to resort to this.” 

You assume he means treating you like a toddler does its shiny new toy, hurling you across this playpen of a city. “You really didn’t have to, then.” 

He stays quiet, fists clenching tighter around you. 

“I suppose we’re past the courtesy of letting the other recover from the last fight before starting a new one? My forearm is still fucked, thanks to you. Maybe if you’d given it some time, I would’ve proved more of a challenge today.” Your words, whilst never your most steadfast allies, betray you in lieu of this restlessness, tumbling forth with unruly incoherence.

Miguel's mask pulls back, the nanotech collapsing to just above his adams apple. Your mouth moves faster. 

“Okay, I get it. The fate of the multiverse and all that. I’ll listen, whatever you want, but at least try and make the lecture original.” 

His hand cups your jaw, tightening around your chin to firmly guide it upwards. Your throat stretches taut at the motion, its smooth expanse spread across the wall – an evening repast for a party of one. The imagery breaks down an all too sobering realisation into fragments small enough for you to register. His talons rest against your cheek, bordering perilously close to your waterline. 

Traces of that patchouli aftershave hit you. His skin looks especially bronzed in the dark, highlighted at the edges from the phosphorescence outside. His curls droop where they’re plastered to a sweat slicked hairline. 

You can’t help it. Your gaze flickers down to those plush lips.

Fuck. Fuck. It’d felt so good to kiss them. 

Please let this just be a kiss. 

“O-Or go with the… the usual, y’know. I don’t–” 

Miguel lunges, sinking his fangs into the fleshy sinew of your neck.

Christ.

Your jaw hangs open, but no breaths filter in. Shock wedges itself at the site of his bite, implacable, steadfast as a barrier between logic and uninhibited emotion. Your reasoning plays no part in this, provides absolutely no valuable contribution to the series of reactions you undergo. 

It’s physical, first. The cold slither of paralytic venom distends through your nerves, neurotoxins striking their functions, rendering them useless beyond the point of sensation. Which, you’d say, is the cruellest part. Miguel’s poison doesn’t stop you from feeling anything; not the puncture, nor the burn. You can truly feel it, trekking its graceful path to all muscles in your body, taking hold of the tissue, suppressing their vitality. Your back arches, your body doing its very best to fight what it cannot prevent. It cracks up your bone, down your spine. Your toes unfurl, fingers loosening to hang lamely at your side. 

And, when you lose all executive authority over yourself, you’re pulled in to centre on his mouth again. His canines slowly retract, tongue taking their place. It’s warm – so fucking warm – and dextrous, covertly lathering the blood that beads down your nape. 

Your last proper breath is wasted on a whine; a loud, keening, absolutely wanton whine. After it, you can do nothing but hold your flat inhales to cycle in as much oxygen as possible – diaphragm weak, your resolve weaker.

Miguel draws away, letting you slump to the floor, heavy and just as useless as a sack of flour. He wipes the excess carmine from his chin, kneeling to regard your glassy eyed stare. 

“Fall through now, and you’re as good as dead.” 

(You might as well already be.)

chapter four →

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[diejager]

Omg wolf hybrid reader meeting another wolf hybrid

Cw: inaccurate wolf stuff, tell me if I missed any.

Nikto is an odd one. He was big and broad and powerful, everything enviable within his ranks with those cold eyes of his and stoic demeanour. To people, he was as scary as he was dangerous, volatile in his short and blunt sentences that comprised of two or three words to pass on his thoughts and unchanging pace; neither quick nor slow, as if he was watching, stalking and observing prey. It was a skill people sought for, despite how he held himself as unapproachable and distant to everyone —even his own superiors who respected him more than feared. 

But to you, he smelled familiar, something about the heady musk that clung to his skin reminded you of something you cherished and lost. It felt as familiar as it was a stranger, unknown yet known, like the nostalgic taste that lingered mysteriously on your tongue despite having forgotten where it first originated. You felt melancholic around him, sad and gloomy until your ears perked up when he glanced your way, a gleam lighting his cold, dead eyes when he met your curious ones. Something clicked, a connection of some sorts that kept forming and breaking whenever your job with KorTac ended and you’d have to bid him farewell from the shuttle besides Ghost.

Perhaps it was a bond, one formed from simple and nonverbal greetings: nods, blinks and frowns, one you had no concrete explanation as to why looking at him made your heart beat faster than it had with any other hybrid —but he wasn’t one, was he? He had no distinctive features that stuck out, or anything that would indicate that he was - in fact - a hybrid. Nikto had no ears that you could, he was covered head to toe in protective gear that only let his blue eyes shine. He had neither tail or claw to show, which left you confused and disoriented. He had the scent of one, the weird and odd character of one, but he didn’t have a single physical sign of being one. Not even a stump from a cut limb!

It started to bother you. Your small and distant interaction no longer enough to fill the growing need in your gut that itched your hindbrain, the one that called all your animalistic acts and feral growls. Your need to touch Nikto, to feel him up close and to know him only grew and grew until you were forced to do something less you made a faux pas that could cause the mission to fail. 

So, you acted, against the behest of your handlers and the others who knew Nikto to be jarringly cold and unapproachable, you walked to him with the confidence of a thousand suns, unafraid and determined. Ignoring all the warnings from König, from Mace, from Horangi, from Roze and other hybrids and non-hybrids who knew Nikto better than you did, you stopped before him, your nose filled with a thick and heady musk that kept grew stronger with every step you took. It was woody and cool, like the freezing tundras of Siberia with accents of fresh dirt and leaves.

It clicked, everything you’d gathered in the past months of meeting and seeing Nikto. Your tail could stop wagging, and your pupils seemed to dilate so wildly that your change of demeanour worried people around you, but you were unbothered by them, your attention solely on the man —no, the giant wolf before you. 

“Во́лкова,” his greeting was simple, low growl.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @craxy-person @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[cutielando]

hungary 2024.

okay, we need to talk about the Hungarian Grand Prix.

i've seen a lot of people all over the internet saying how Oscar didn't deserve the win and that he stole it away from Lando, that Lando shouldn't have let Oscar past, all kinds of theories.

first things first.

BE HAPPY FOR OSCAR.

it's really unfair towards him that everyone is overlooking his win, not celebrating him for the amazingly talented driver that he is, and are instead pitying Lando, talking about mistreatment from the team and so on (both of which are true and fair, but it seems like everybody is overlooking the fact that he won his first F1 race in his SECOND season).

I am a Lando fan, I was at the race as well, and I am just as sad that I didn't get to watch him win, but let's not forget how compliant Oscar has been ever since the start of the season when it comes to Lando's races.

he has sacrificed many of his races in order to help Lando defend his position and has not once complained about it. he has been nothing short of a stellar team player without complaints. i can imagine the way he must have been feeling, knowing the team was prioritizing Lando in races, which is not a great conclusion to come to.

Lando knows how much Oscar has helped him, and he knew that if he hadn't let him past, he would have lost his support and help down the road. he would have found himself fighting for results by himself, which is not something you want when you're close in the championship. he knew he needs Oscar, that's why he ended up obeying to team orders.

now we arrive to the real root of the problem and the real bad guy. McLaren.

i understand that they wanted Oscar to win, to give something back to make up for the situations he had been put in, but this was not the way to do it. had they wanted Oscar to win "fair and square" they should have pitted him first. he would have come out behind Lando, and then they would have pitted Lando and he would have come out behind Oscar, thus creating Oscar P1 and Lando P2 from the very beginning.

the audacity of Will to say those things to Lando over the radio, the audacity to straight up blackmail him into giving away a win to Oscar was so not the way to speak to someone who has been with the team for 6 years and committed at least 3-4 more years of his career to the team. it's not fair towards Lando because the situation was not his fault, it was the fault of their strategy team.

don't ever blackmail someone into doing your bidding when you've put them in the wrong spot ON PURPOSE and the entire situation is your fault.

the sole fault here lies with McLaren. Lando and Oscar have no fault in this. Lando should have never been given the opportunity to lead the race in the last stint when everyone was aiming for an Oscar win. the strategy failed, the blame lies with the team orders.

McLaren, I love you, I love your drivers, and I'm a papaya girl through and through. BUT GROW THE FUCK UP AND GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER.

We deserve better.

Lando deserves so much better.

Oscar deserves so much better.

With that being said, don't let this take away the joy of winning a race from Oscar just because you made a mistake.

He deserves the win, he should feel that indescribable joy of winning. He deserves to be happy.

He’s a winner, let’s celebrate him accordingly. 🧡

[freshlove-sturn]

house on the cape III

pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4

summary: when the triplets come back home from la, they reunite with their favorite summer tradition, staying in the house on the cape. amidst all of the familiar laughter, and reminiscing on old memories, y/n can’t ignore the feeling stirring in her heart. something that went deeper than friendship. as she grapples with the fact that her feelings for her lifelong best friend, matt, are more than what’s just at the surface, she must learn to navigate and balance the unspoken feelings, and the gut wrenching fear of risking it all.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

i stand there in shock for a moment. the fact that he had a moment that i held so deeply in my heart permanently tattooed on his body was something that i couldn’t even begin to fathom.

“no way? really?” i ask. i try playing it cool, but it’s no use, really. matt could read me like an open book, he’s always been able to. my poker face didn’t stand a chance whenever he was around.

“yeah.” he laughs awkwardly. “sorry if that’s weird or anything i just-“ he clears his throat. “you’re my best friend and i wanted to get something to honor you and-“

“you don’t have to explain yourself matt.” i cut him off to reassure him. “i love it. that’s really sweet.” i smile up at him.

he doesn’t say anything, just smiles sweetly back at me.

we don’t talk the rest of the walk home, we didn’t need to. the presence of one another spoke in volume that words couldn’t.

volumes that i don’t think i’ll ever be able to profess to him. i just let the universe speak for me, in hopes that maybe one day he will catch on, and if i’m lucky, maybe he feels the same.

surely it didn’t mean near as much as i wanted to. people get tattoos for their best friends all the time, i was reading too far into it. how was matt supposed to know the significance of that moment anyway?

once we get inside, we bid our second goodnight. i toss and turn all night. every time i check the clock, only 3 minutes had gone by since the last time i checked, praying for it to be daylight so i could have the others to distract my ever racing mind.

the deafening sound of my alarm wakes me out of the sleep it felt like i had just fallen into. i slap my hand around lazily on the nightstand feeling around for my phone to turn the alarm off, too tired to open my eyes.

once i click stop, i run the tiredness from my eyes and stretch, sitting up in bed. i heard foot steps walking past my door, down the hall. i knew it wasn’t any of the triplets, no way they were waking up this early. i knew it was nathan.

i slide out of bed, running my brush through my hair quickly, before walking out into the living room, nate was sitting in the recliner on his phone.

“morning” he murmurs, rubbing his eyes to shake the remnants of the sleep he clearly just woke up from by the way his hair was sticking all in opposite directions.

“morning.” i reply, sitting down on the couch closest to him.

“did you leave last night? i could’ve sworn i heard yours and matt’s voicing coming back inside last night.” nate asks. my mind was instantly flooded with the memories of last night. how matt and i’s faces were just mere inches from each other, the way matt didn’t skip a beat to dive below the surface to find my necklace after i lost it, and of course, the tattoo.

“yeah, we went to the beach. we couldn’t sleep.” i tell him.

nate raises his eyebrows at me. he knows my feelings for matt. i confessed then to him the day the triplets first moved to boston. ever since then, he has been a wingman of sorts. always listening to every interaction i had with matt that i had romanticized in my head, which was practically all of them, give or take.

“ooooh, you and matt went to the beach alone in the middle of the night.” he teases, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

i roll my eyes and throw a pillow at him, to which he deflects and throws it back at me. “can i tell you something?”

i had to tell him about the tattoo thing. i couldn’t keep this information to myself. nate was always the one i confided in when i couldn’t confide in matt.

“hit me.” he leans back in the chair, folding his hands behind his head.

“so y’know matt’s shell tattoo?” nate nods.

“well, last night he told me that it’s actually the shell from this necklace.” i grab the shell that laid around my neck, nate staring intently.

“you didn’t know that?” he furrows his brows.

“you did?!” my voice involuntarily raises an octave from our quiet speaking. was this common knowledge to everyone but me? why didn’t matt tell me until now?

but i don’t have much room to talk, i harbored my own share of secrets.

just before nathan can explain himself, i hear a bedroom door open and shut, footsteps padding down the hallway, shutting both of us up.

“morning.” chris appears from around the corner, his hair messy, stretching his arms over his head while speaking through a yawn.

“good morning.” nate and i repeat in unison. nick follows lazily, plopping down on the couch.

about a half hour later, nate, nick, chris, and myself are still the only ones up, matt was sound asleep.

“what do yall wanna do today?” nick asks opening the fridge, grabbing milk for his cereal.

chris and nate start throwing out ideas, i stand up and start heading off towards the bedrooms. “i’m gonna go wake matt up.” i tell them, disguising as it as if i wanted to make sure he was apart of making the plans. while that may be part of it, majority of my motive was for my own benefit.

the door was already cracked, i open it the rest of the way slowly, and once again leaving it cracked behind me. i quietly make my way to the side of the bed. shaking his shoulder gently.

“matt, wake up. we’re talking about what we’re gonna do today” my voice soft. he stirs in his sleep a bit, but ultimately ignores me. i repeat his name again, this time earning the fluttering open of his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth when he grabs my arm, pulling me down into the bed.

“matt!” i pretend to protest. positive i’m not at all masking the fact that would lay her forever with him.

“five more minutes.” he chuckles, throwing part of the blanket over me after wrapping his arms tightly around me.

cuddling wasn’t exactly unfamiliar territory with us. our mothers telling us growing up that we were attached at the hip, following it up with how even that was an understatement.

he closes his eyes, but that doesn’t tear my attention away from his beautiful features. all of them complimenting each other perfectly in such harmony.

“matt.” i whisper, i knew i had to get him up and moving, after telling the others that those were my intentions.

his eyes open again, staring back down into mine. my stomach feels like it’s doing backflips, and my heart beating as if i had just finished running a marathon. something about the way he was looking at me, all the while his hands rest on the small of my back holding me firmly to his hip, had me swooning. if i didn’t know any better i swear i had heart eyes, with hearts swirling around my head like in the cartoons.

one of his arms releases its grip, his hand coming up to my face, brushing the hair that had fallen into my eyes out of the way. the pads of his fingers gently caressing my skin. his hand lingers for a moment on the side of my face. our faces seemed ever closer than they were the night in the ocean, i could almost feel the flutter of his eyelashes when he blinks. the booming of chris yelling for him to wake up interrupts.

“we should probably go out there, he’s been ready to go all morning.” i say softly.

“i can’t stand that kid sometimes.” matt groans.

i roll off the bed, pulling the covers off of matt. “i know you can’t.” i tell him as he slowly gets out of the bed.

we make our way into the living room, nate of course immediately shoots me a cheeky grin, i give him warning look, and he puts his hands up in defense.

if the truth didn’t come out through me, it would surely come out by nate’s not so discreet teasing.

thankfully, everyone else stays oblivious to this interaction.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

we winded up deciding on grabbing a bite to eat at a small cafe. i sit sandwiched between nate and matt. nate and chris were discussing what they were gonna order while nick vlogged, piping into conversation every once in a while. matt’s hand brushes against my thigh, sending a jolt of electricity throughout my entire body. he lets it rest there for a moment before the camera pans to him. he was always cautious about the way he interacted with me in videos, anything to prevent hate from jealous fans.

part of me understood and appreciated that, but another part of me wishes he wouldn’t hold back.

but i could never tell matt that.

our food arrives shortly after we order, everyone scarfs it down within a few minutes, eager to set off on our next adventure, hiking.

the check comes and i pull out my wallet to cover my share of the bill, before i can even get any money out, matt grabs my wrist.

“absolutely not.” he tells me, placing enough money on the table to cover mine and his meal.

“matt stop it, you never let me pay.” i protest.

“i think you should know by now that you’re never paying for anything in my presence.” he tells me. i roll my eyes, shaking my head. a gentle smile plastered across my face.

he leans down, his voice just low enough to where only the two of us could hear it. “pretty girls never pay.”

i look up at him, but he had already struck up a conversation with nick, completely disregarding the comment he had just made that is the reason my cheeks are flushed with a bright pink color.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the 5 of us trot down the dirt path through the woods, down to a lake that was in the clearing.

we were at an incline, so our steps were quick and not entirely balanced. of course given this fact, i’d be the one to stub my toe on a tree root and lose my footing, stumbling forward.

a pair of arms grab my waist, steadying my body.

“careful.” matt says.

again, our touch lingers just a second too long. a second too long to just be “friendly”.

seconds that probably all in all meant nothing, but nonetheless were part of the foundation i had anchored my hopes on.

once we get down to the lake, after matt channels his inner bird expert, as well as 12 year old boy screaming penis so loud it probably woke up a small village across the ocean, matt and i break off from the rest of the group. something we were no strangers to doing. we walk side by side, careful not to stray too far from the rest, but just far enough to have our own privacy.

we walked so close our hands touched with each step. neither of us bothered to alter the situation.

matt slows down to a stop. his blue eyes catching mine. the sun was just beginning to set, rays of light beaming between the openings of tree branches.

“this is like, my favorite place to be ever.” he says, looking out over the water. “and even more so because i’m with you.” his eyes meet mine again. i smile up at him, praying the hotness of my cheeks is strictly internal, and not making it painfully obvious to the boy in front of me that im in love with him.

i don’t say anything, i didn’t need to. his voice cuts through the comfortable silence again.

“i know that probably sounds cheesy but it’s true. it’s like, i don’t know how to explain it really. just whenever im around you it’s like nothing else matters. i forget all about anything that’s been weighing down on me and stressing me out. you’re like a breath of fresh air. if that makes any sense.”

every word he said was so close yet so far from the words i yearn to hear him speak.

i’d give anything just to hear it just once. even if it was a lie.

it’s just 3 words.

we had said it to each other countless times. but the meaning behind it was never was i longed for. i see the way he looks at me. the things he says, the way our accidental touches linger, and sometimes, much like right now, i think that maybe, just maybe he feels the same way.

but what if i’m wrong?

taglist: @ribread03 @billy9669 @lovesturni0l0s @p4lxouterbanks @blablablabla2525 @bbernard-03 @sturniololvrrr @hayhjelmstad15

[ichorai]

hell, yeah ; roman roy ; part six.

pairing ; roman roy x f!reader

synopsis ; pain was an old friend for the both of you.

words ; 13.8k

themes ; angst, fluff, drama, slowburn, childhood friends to lovers

warnings / includes ; depictions of mental and physical abuse, major character death, heavy angsty shit, sexual jokes and general foul language, business talk, roman is so in love, connor gets a bit of spotlight for this chapter </3

a/n ; sorry i'm taking so so so long w this series! uni keeps getting in the way of my writing HAHA but i hope you guys enjoy :)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Bidding wars had never really been fun for you. It was always emails upon emails, calls after calls, Logan yelling, Gerri scrambling, negotiations, bargains, deals—it was all too much.

But this… even you had to admit, this was fun. 

Maybe because it was the first time you were working against Logan and not for him. And being around the Roy siblings reminded you of your childhood—a time where the four of you got along for the most part, even with the bloody noses and scraped knees and the yankings of hair.

Buying Pierce had been something you were starkly against while you were working in Waystar, but with this new thing that the Roy siblings were crafting, you had complete faith that Shiv, Kendall—hell, even Roman, would keep the news station’s values in check.

And, though you weren’t entirely proud of it, there was a thrill, a rush of adrenaline, when the four of you raised your bidding price to a healthy ten billion as a closing offer, knowing there was no way Logan could ever consider outbidding that.

Nan Pierce accepted with little pushback, much to Logan’s fury.

Your godfather yelled at the four of you through the phone later that day, but there was no fear sitting within your stomach, like there usually was when he got angry. No, you were laughing. Kendall and Shiv and Roman—they were stifling their own smiles down at the screen, too.

That night, you stood on your balcony, a lit cigarette loosely balanced between your fingers. You weren’t at all a smoker—in fact, you hadn’t had one ever since you joined Waystar. It was an unprofessional look, in a sense. Not something you wanted to be associated with. 

The goddaughter that smelled of cheap cigarettes. Wasn’t that an unattractive thought?

But you didn’t have to worry about that anymore, did you? Honestly, you weren’t quite sure yourself. You’d just assumed you were no longer part of the company, but knowing Logan…

He always had something up his sleeve. Maybe he’d wait until the siblings lowered their guards to snipe you in the back of the head. Or lure you back with meaty bait. 

You took a short drag, faint grey wisps falling past your lips as you breathed out. 

“You smoking now? Doing a little smokey smokes?” came Roman’s voice from behind you, making you turn your head with a slight grin. “Since when?”

“First one since I was a little baby teenager, I think,” you replied. Roman leaned onto the balcony railing beside you, shoulder pressing flush against yours. “They taste disgusting. Here—”

You took a drag—a longer one, this time—leaned forward until your lips were just a whisker away from his, and blew the smoke into him. He inhaled deep before jerking forward to kiss you, nose nudging yours in his fervor.

“Yeah. Fucking disgusting,” he mumbled against your lips, as if wanting to propel you into something more than just kisses. 

Your eyes lit up with amusement, but you pulled away, leaving a lingering kiss on the side of Roman’s nose. The cigarette wasn’t at all used up, but you put it out on a small ashtray you had taken with you. 

“I just wanted to try,” you said. “Was wondering if I’d like it after all this time, now that I have the freedom to.”

There was a curious glint to Roman’s molten eyes. “And do you?”

“Nah. Like I said—they taste disgusting.”

“Some people like disgusting,” he off-handedly said, and you shot him a pointed look.

A breezy laugh, lost to the wind. “Yeah. I might know someone.”

“You’re a goody two-shoes, you know that?” he commented snidely, but his eyes were far too soft for his words to strike harsh. “But it’s good. We need someone like that. The company, I mean.”

“I know,” you whispered back. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”

“Yeah,” Roman said, his hand lacing with yours. He began tugging you back inside. “Me too.”

Connor wanted the four of you to come to his wedding rehearsal at a fancy restaurant downtown—he texted you multiple different addresses, each text telling you to disregard the last one. Then, he called you (called Shiv first, but she was on the phone, passive-aggressively bickering with Tom), and told you exactly where he was. Apparently Willa wasn’t very happy with the venues they’d booked. He sounded sad—it was always easy to tell when he was sad.

And so the four of you set off for him, though not without Roman’s constant complaints. Spending some quality time with their eldest brother was the last thing the Roy siblings wanted to do—they had far more pressing matters at hand. 

Sandi and Stewy, for one. They wanted to veto the acquisition for more dollars squeezed from Matsson’s hand. Roman was starkly against the idea, not wanting to blow more bullets into his father. Shiv and Kendall were far more willing to listen, though Kendall eventually backed down. It was appealing, you had to admit, especially because you hated Matsson’s guts, but you wanted to put business aside for the moment. Spend some time with Connor—after all, he was going to get married soon. If that ever ended up happening, that is.

Once inside the restaurant’s halls, you caught sight of Willa hurrying down the wide staircase by the entrance, looking a bit frazzled. 

“Oh, hi!” she said, slightly breathless. “So you’re here now, huh?”

“Hi, Willa,” you greeted, embracing her with a loose hug before stepping back. “Are you… going somewhere?”

“You standing up my big bro?” Roman quipped from right behind you. He was joking, but Willa only frowned. “Are you okay? Did something happen?” 

There was a nervous laugh from both parties.

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, yeah, I’m just—I’m having a little drink. Away.” 

Both you and Roman spared each other confused glances.

“Is the dinner rehearsal thing over? He still up there?” Roman asked.

The blonde fiddled with her phone, nearly dropping it. “Oh, uh, the rehearsal isn’t—it’s not done, no.”

“You’re leaving your own wedding rehearsal?” you gently questioned.

She smiled, though it came off only sad and tired. “I think they can manage. I’m not vital from here.”

Roman squinted at her. “Yeah, well… I mean, normally the bride is generally considered—correct me if I’m wrong—I think the bride is pretty vital in a wedding. Don’t you think?” 

“Well! Yeah, but… I should go, though. Have a think about it all. I’m in a bit of a fuzz.” She laughed again, though it looked like she wanted to cry. 

Nodding, you said, “Take care of yourself, Willa. Let us know if you need anything.”

She pursed her lips, eyes soft with appreciation. The two of you had never been quite close, but there was a mutual understanding between you. To be the pedestals of Roy men, the unnamed crutch, the woman on the arm. 

With that, she hurried away. 

“Fairy tale wedding, huh?” Shiv said, eyebrows raised. “Should we even go up? Seems like the rehearsal is over.”

“She said it wasn’t,” you replied, shrugging. “We should go see Con.”

Roman crossed his arms. “Yeah, Shiv, we really should. Why? You got something better to do than see your own brother before his wedding?”

“No, it’s just—we’ve got quite a lot to discuss, that’s all.”

It was Kendall’s turn to query, “What? Sandi and Stewy? They’re baiting us. Just let it go, Shiv.”

“I think they could really help us! We overpromised on Pierce!” she hotly defended.

“It’s a mind game,” Roman agreed with Kendall. “Just—fuck ‘em, okay?”

The redhead looked at you, but you shook your head. “Let’s just go see Connor, okay? We can hash it out after making sure he hasn’t got a gun barrel in his mouth.”

“Sure. Fine,” Shiv said, though it didn’t seem all that fine to her, judging from her pinched expression.

The four of you traipsed up the stairs, spotting Connor instantly—alone, surrounded by near-untouched platters of expensive food.

“Found him,” Roman sarcastically commented, pointing a finger at his oldest brother, who cracked a fond smile.

“Finally,” Connor said. “Took you guys long enough.”

Roman gave him an embrace from the side, saying, “Hey, bro. Hugsy.”

To the other side, Kendall patted his shoulder, another hand thumping on his chest. Shiv only barely leaned down to hug him, telling him, “Dad screwed us.”

“Yeah,” the eldest said. “I heard. But look at you guys—the Rebel Alliance.”

You were last to give Connor a hug, squeezing him tight, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “How’s the rehearsal been?”

A non-committal noise slipped past his lips. “Been good. It’s been okay.”

Roman made a strange, wincing sound, sucking air through his teeth. “Sure. Yeah, I believe you.”

Keen to change the subject, Connor surveyed his siblings—and you—with narrowed eyes. “So this is how it is, huh? Battle royale. Me and Dad on one side, you guys on the other?”

Strange, you hadn’t quite recalled Connor being so in with his father’s business plans. And… the fact that Logan hadn’t shown up to the wedding rehearsal at all.

“You okay, man?” Roman queried, genuine concern slipping over his features. He was always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. “We bumped into Willa on the way in. She seemed all…” He drew up his hands to his face and shook his fingers about.

Pointedly, Connor dropped his gaze down to the table. Untouched food left and right.  “Yeah. It’s alright. I think it’s fine.”

“You sure, Con?” you asked, slipping into the seat beside him, Roman on your other side. 

“Yeah, well, I guess she just—she stood up to do her speech, and then she froze. Said that she couldn’t do it.” There was a laugh, dry and unpleasant and somber. “Then she went to the bathroom for forty minutes with her so-called friends.”

Roman wrinkled his nose and squinted his eyes at nothing in particular. “Oh, no, no, that’s—that’s totally fine. Don’t you worry about that. Just toss her another ten grand—or a snowmobile. Teeth-whitening vouchers.”

Unhappy with the meaning behind his brother’s words, Connor pushed himself away from the table, heading off to speak to Willa’s mom. 

Tossing a glare in Roman’s direction, you sighed out, “Was that really necessary?”

“What? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Slumping into the chair across from you, Kendall huffed out, “This is so fucking weird.”

“Do we regroup at my place?” Shiv asked, still standing, impatient to leave even though they’d just gotten there.

Tilting his head, Roman incredulously said, “Shiv. Come on. He’s… he’s looking a little rough. Don’t you think?”

“Well, sure. I’m sorry that Dad fucked us and I’m sorry that we’re late. But we do need to decide fast.” 

“The Sandi and Stewy deal?” you queried.

Shiv let out a frustrated exhale. “Yeah.”

“Well, I think we’re already decided, no?” Kendall said, lifting a shoulder in half a shrug. Roman nodded in agreement.

“Are we, though? They made some pretty compelling arguments.” Shiv tapped her foot against the hardwood floors impatiently.

Glancing over at Connor, who was trying his best to console Willa’s mother, you bobbed your head, hesitant. “It could potentially ruin Matsson. The deal. I’d like to see it.”

Groaning a little too loudly, Roman said, “Sandy’s just a greedy little bitch. She’s got her hand up the ass of the carcass of her dad, and Stewy’s just coming along for the ride. Can we not do this right now? It’s a fucking—it’s a packet of horseshit.”

Trying her best to stay calm, Shiv perched herself on the edge of the seat next to Kendall. “Okay. And what if I want to talk it through? This would help us.”

Kendall arched a brow. “I think we should just rise above it.”

“Yeah, okay, but maybe Dad is not on it like he used to be—and maybe he’s underplayed his hand, and the board are all just hand-fucking-picked Japanese plastic cats just waving it through,” Shiv argued.

“It doesn’t hurt to try,” you added, trying your best to sway Roman by nudging him gently. He merely rolled his eyes and prodded you back, but said nothing more.

It was then that Connor came hurrying back, carding a hand through his hair. He tiredly sank back down into his seat. “No luck. Still incommunicado. I just really hope she’s okay.”

“I’m sure she is,” you told him, rubbing a hand over his shoulder. “She just needs space, is all.”

“Yeah.” As if he’d flipped a switch, Connor straightened and plastered on a smile. “So, what do you guys say? A little bit of karaoke?”

All three siblings grimaced. 

“Or would it be possible,” Roman began, scratching at his jaw, “to do anything other than that, in the entire universe?”

“I think karaoke sounds nice,” you offered. Honestly, you weren’t too keen on doing karaoke when your mind was abuzz with a million other things at the moment, but it was Connor, and he seemed so down about Willa at his own wedding rehearsal, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to say no to him. It was like kicking at an already-wounded puppy.

Connor grinned. “Nice! One in the bag. Come on, you guys. Don’t leave us hanging.”

Shiv looked near ready to bash her head against the table. Kendall was glancing down at his phone—texting someone.

Roman rolled his eyes and groaned again, even louder than before. “Ugh. Fine! We can drink, though, right? I’m not listening to you sing sober.”

Clearing her throat, Shiv said, “Well, I just, we kind of have—other engagements right now—”

“Oh, sure. Everybody’s busy,” Connor crooned. Though, if you looked close enough, you’d see the unmistakable hurt in his eyes. Why didn’t his baby sister want to spend time with him?

“Come on,” Kendall said with an urgent hand slanting over Shiv’s shoulder, phone gone for now. “Let’s give him a drink.”

Clapping his hands, Connor stood up again. “Great! But—not any of your stupid places. Somewhere fun and real and—away from all the fancy dance. A real bar with, uh, with chicks, and guys who work with their hands in grease—sweat dripping down their backs and blood all over their hair.”

“I don’t like these guys. They sound like a medical experiment gone wrong,” Roman piped up, slinging an arm over your shoulder.

“Sounds hot,” you said with a genuine laugh. “Let’s go.”

The bar itself was atmospherically ambient, the lights warm and unharsh, the chatter light and friendly, the television playing a football match at a soft volume. You smiled—it’d been a while since you stepped foot into an actual bar full of people who weren’t aristocratic assholes.

Normal people doing normal things. What was that like?

Roman, on the other hand, looked particularly uncomfortable, shoulders stiff and expression taut. He was only here for his big brother, but his saint-like kindness only wore so thin.

Kendall ordered drinks for the lot of you—whiskey on the rocks for himself, a sealed soda for Shiv since she didn’t trust anything from the bar’s “tainted” nozzles, a fancy beer for Connor, a vodka tonic for Roman, and a strawberry margarita for you. He snorted when you asked for it, rolling his eyes to the side. 

“You and your strawberries,” Kendall said, before heading off to call the bartender. You weren’t quite sure if his expression was fond or derisive. Perhaps both.

You sat beside Connor, peering over his shoulder, where he was staring at the screen with heavily knitted brows.

“Is that—is that Willa?” you asked, eyes widening upon seeing him zoomed onto a map with a tiny blue dot. “Are you tracking her?”

“Jesus, Con,” said Roman, laughing his high-pitched laugh. “That’s low, even for you.”

“What? I have her location shared,” the older brother said, earning quizzical looks from the three of you. “It’s a factory setting.”

Shiv made a noise of amusement. “It’s not.”

“Well…” Connor’s eyes darted back down to his screen, zooming in impossibly closer. “I’m reassured she’s definitely not on her way to Cuba.”

From his other side, Kendall appeared, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Well, her phone isn’t.”

Connor decided to ignore the comment. “She stopped moving, so… I guess she found a spot she likes.”

“Sure!” crooned Roman. “On another man’s dick.”

The rest of you sighed, and you shook your head. 

“On a much bigger, nicer, harder, younger dick, is all I’m saying,” Roman reassured his eldest brother, patting his shoulders.

“Can we not?” Connor softly said, though he was smiling down at Rome. Even though his words hurt, just the fact that he was there for him cheered him up just a little bit. “Okay? I’m feeling—I’m having certain anxieties, alright? I want to have a good time!”

Once Roman muttered a quick apology, you bumped him off to the side so you can press up next to Connor again, staring down at the blue dot, still unmoving. “I’m sure she just needs a breather. It’s a big deal, y’know. Marriage.”

“I know,” said Con, sucking in a deep breath. There was a profound sort of loneliness to his eyes. “I just thought—I thought it was enough. All of it. It was enough for her.”

“It will be,” you said, nudging him. “Eventually. Just give her time.”

The drinks came then, and you hummed contentedly after taking your first sip. “Fuck. Why don’t they ever have shit like this at the fancy events we go to?”

“Because it’s diabetes in a cup,” Roman replied, but he plucked the glass from your fingers to snag a sip for himself. “It’s literal sugar water. Barely any alcohol in here.”

“Well, I’m not looking to get wasted,” you said, before snatching it back, shooting him a half-hearted glare. “You drank so much!”

“Nuh-uh, there was barely anything in there to begin with!”

“Roman, it was filled to the brim two seconds ago, what are you talking about?”

Before the two of you could divulge into a round of childish bickering, Connor abruptly straightened in his seat. “Her dot is at an aquarium supply retailer. That doesn’t make sense—is that a drug thing?”

Kendall cleared his throat. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You sure?”

Roman snickered. “It is. It’s a drug thing.”

“Maybe she’s getting a pet fish,” you unhelpfully supplied. “A little pre-wedding gift for the two of you?”

Frowning, Connor said, “Now she’s at a dry cleaner’s.”

“Probably getting her panties cleaned from the new dick’s cum,” quipped Roman. The absurdity of the statement made you laugh unexpectedly, but you quickly quietened when Connor stared at the two of you in horror. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, as if he were a parent scolding a naughty toddler. 

“I’m not saying it’s your cum! Your cum, I’m sure, is very washable.” Roman droned on to an incredulous Connor some more, but your attention was drawn to Kendall, whose phone began to ring, and he quietly excused himself from the bar to take the call, face twisted into unmistakeable dread. You briefly wondered who he looked so anxious to talk to, but the thought was quick to banish from your mind entirely when Connor prodded Roman in the shoulder and said your name.

“Okay, that’s enough from you. Y/N, can you tell him to stop? Tell him to stop.”

“Stop it, Roman. Don’t talk about your brother’s cum, you weirdo.”

Rubbing his palms together, Roman shrugged the matter away entirely. “I’m starving. Anything to eat in this shit shack, or what?”

By the time Kendall came back, the rest of you were crowded into a small booth with a dingy little light hanging a little too low over the table. There was a platter of cheesy nachos in the center, which Shiv eyed with distaste. Roman was still looking over the menus, sarcastically wondering aloud from which creature they’d clipped the wings off of.

“Who were you talking to, Ken?” you asked. “It wasn’t Frank again, was it?” 

Kendall’s eyes darted from your face down to the floor. “Uh… no. No, it was—it was Stewy.” 

Something about his demeanor screamed that he wasn’t telling the entire truth, but you kept quiet, watching him with just barely narrowed eyes. 

“Oh, great. What the fuck does he want now?” Roman hissed, peering over the crinkled lamination of the menu he was holding. 

Kendall leaned forward slightly, regarding Shiv with a pointed stare. “Actually, guys, can I… can I show you something? On the comparables. It’s actually pretty fucking intriguing.” 

Your eyebrows rose a fraction. Just a few moments ago, Kendall wasn’t at all interested in Sandi and Stewy’s pitching. What changed his mind?

Nodding in satisfaction, Shiv added, “Yeah, see? It makes you think. Maybe Dad isn’t on it like he used to be. You know, he’s being pushed around by Matsson—hell, even by Kerry. Giving shows to his girlfriend? That’s just—it’s an embarrassment!”

Loudly, Connor exclaimed, “Fuck, she’s in the East River now! She’s in the—oh. Wait, no, she’s just on the bridge.” You popped a nacho in your mouth and glanced over at Connor, who was squinting down at his phone.

“Looks like she’s going on a little trip,” you hummed. “She’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, okay, not to be dicks, Con, but is it okay if we do a little breakout chat, just the four of us? We won’t be long, like—two minutes max,” Shiv said, expression serious and unyielding.

Rolling his eyes, Roman gestured to his oldest brother. “Hey, just—fuck it. Why don’t we fold Con in?” 

“Well, he’s not on the board, so—”

“Yeah, but he has a share. If the deal falls, he loses his payout.”

An incredulous frown pulled at his lips. “Excuse me?” Connor said.

“Oh, okay, so Shiv wants to get us mixed up in some drug deal that will fuck the vote tomorrow,” Roman told him, pursing his lips in an exaggerated fashion.

Holding her hands out, Shiv shook her head. “Uh, no. All we’re aiming for is a small delay. We all want the deal to go through.”

“Right,” you said with an amused snort. “Sure.”

“I, uh… I think I agree,” said Kendall.

Roman’s eyes widened. “Oh, what the fuck? Seriously?”

 “It’s just—looking at the numbers… it’s compelling.”

With a grand scoff, Roman shook his head. “It’s compelling? Wow. You’d find a bag of peanuts more compelling, Kendall.”

You placed a hand over Roman’s jolting knee. “Rome, why don’t we just hear them out?” His eyes met yours, hesitant and conflicted. “And think—wouldn’t it be fun? Fucking Matsson in the ass?”

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that, you freak,” he scoffed, crossing his arms.

“So you guys are just gonna force Dad to grovel?” Connor asked, mouth parted in surprise. “Oh, man. How long will a renegotiation take?”

Shiv’s lips twisted downwards, though it was more of a smile than a frown. “It’s a play. More money is more money, and that’s all there is to it.”

It was then that Roman’s phone, facing upwards on the chipped table, vibrated thrice. The screen lit up with a text notification. 

Dad.

All the siblings had seen it, and Shiv rushed to angle the phone towards her. Roman slapped her hand away, yanking his phone towards his chest. Hiding it.

“What the fuck?” Shiv asked, wary. “The fuck is Dad messaging you for?”

Roman stood frozen, reminiscent of a deer in headlights. “Uh, I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him? Stupid question, Shivvy.”

Kendall stared at his younger brother blankly. “You’re not gonna read it?”

There was a brief pause. “Yeah, I’ll—I’ll read the damn thing. Sure.” A swipe of his phone, a kink to his brows. “It’s just a check-in.”

“Oh, yeah?” Shiv said, skeptical. “A check-in? Oh, yeah. Classic Dad. He just loves to check in on us, see how we’re doing.” 

Backing down, Roman fessed up, “Okay, fine, I sent him a text on his birthday. Just saying, you know, happy birthday, sorry we missed it—”

“I’m sorry, wait a minute!” Shiv exclaimed. “You texted him first?”

Roman frowned. “It was his birthday, yeah.”

“We said no contact until he apologizes!” she angrily pointed out.

“Okay, so then never?” Roman shot back, scowling.

With a tilt of your head, you said, “It was just a simple happy birthday, right? That’s harmless. Right, Roman?” You pressed your foot over his, enough so he could feel the pressure, but not enough to hurt him.

“Yeah. That was it.”

“Nuh-uh. I want to see your phone,” said the red-head. 

A flicker of panic flashed across Roman’s eyes. “Oh, really? Show me yours, then! World’s biggest WhatsApp group of people sharing pictures of your snatch. No, thank you. Fuck off, fuck you.”

“Roman, come on,” Kendall said. “We have to trust each other.”

Memories of Kendall forcefully taking Roman’s phone from you in Hungary briefly crossed your mind. You pursed your lips. He’d been hiding things from you then, who was to say he wasn’t hiding things from you now?

Relenting, Roman tossed his phone onto the table, almost hitting the platter of nachos. He was growing angrier by the second, frustrated by his siblings' shoes pressing against his spine. “Fine, take a good look. I don’t give a shit. It’s just dick pics, anyway. He’s got a real taste for ‘em now.”

You leaned over to read along with Shiv and Kendall. It looked fine to you—since it was just a simple birthday wish, but they seemed much more harsh in their critique.

“This is more than one text, Roman.” There was a crease between Shiv’s brows.

“Okay. What is it? Two, three?”

Kendall rubbed the faint stubble over his jaw. “It’s a bit warm.”

“Warm? Why, what did I say?”

“Take care.”

Scoffing, Roman’s eyes rolled up to the dingy, low-hanging light. “What was I supposed to say? Happy birthday, hope you fall down a flight of stairs, shithead!”

“I feel a little bit weird about this betrayal, if I’m being honest,” Shiv said in a steely tone. 

“Betrayal?” Roman parroted, almost offensively. “The betrayal of happy birthday, Dad. Take care!” 

“You know what?” Kendall chimed in. “I’m feeling a bit betrayed, too.”

Upset, Roman just about slammed his phone back down on the tabletop. “Wow. Great. Fucking family guilt-trip fest.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” you said, pinching the space between your brows. “It’s not illegal to say happy birthday, guys. Relax, okay?”

Connor nodded. “It’s hard. It’s been hard on everybody.”

The five of you sat in silence for a bit longer. Has it been hard? Or did it just feel like it because all of you had been so accustomed to getting everything handed over on a silver platter? 

Finally, Shiv swallowed heavily and said, “You know that he advised Tom on the divorce? Gave him a Dad trick—went and spoke to every pit bull in Manhattan and tied them up. I got Mommed.”

You frowned. So much had happened in the past few months, you’d sort of even forgotten Shiv and Tom were heading for divorce. “Tom did that? Jeez… I’m sorry, Shiv.”

Roman blew out a breath, mildly relieved that the heat was taken off of him for a moment. “I mean, there’s probably one more horrible motherfucker lawyer around somewhere, but, uhm… that sucks. I’m sorry.”

Shiv refused to meet either of your gazes. She didn’t want to be reduced to… Tom’s ex-wife. A shadow of her mother. 

“Guys, I just feel like we need to stick together,” Kendall said, firm. We should push back, and we should all be on board. We squeeze them.”

Equally level, Roman placed his hands on the table. “Okay, but, we want to do Pierce, right? We want an out?”

“Yes. But just with a bit more money,” Kendall agreed. 

“Yeah, that’s the thing—I don’t think Matsson will go up in price,” Roman argued. “He won’t! I know this, because I’ve spoken to him. I really think he might walk.”

 Good, you wanted to say, but you bit down on your tongue.

Both Shiv and Kendall began poking fun at him for not calling Matsson’s bluff.

Exasperated, Roman rubbed his knuckles along his hairline. “Okay, it just sounded like he meant it.” He didn’t look happy with the prospect of blocking the deal. He wanted to be a traitor to his Dad without being a traitor. To have his cake and eat it, too.

Shiv and Roman fell into another argument about whether or not Roman cared over conflict—that he was scared of his own Dad and wanted to back down like a coward.

Quelling his riled-up siblings, Kendall motioned for them to quiet down. “Honestly, though, guys. I think going with Sandi and Stewy is the best thing for us to do. As a team.”

Shiv nodded in agreement. “It’s a play. Buys us a couple weeks and more money.”

“He’ll get it,” Kendall said, trying to sway Rome. “It’s what Dad would do in his prime.”

And was that the goal? To try and imitate the beast to scare him off? A moth with false eyes to ward away predators?

Roman squinted at nothing in particular. Then, he angled his face to look at you. You hadn’t at all realized that your features were immobilized in uncertainty. 

“What?” Roman asked, knee knocking against yours.

“Your Dad’s going to hate us if we pull this.”

Roman laughed, high and nervous. The idea made him nauseous. “Seems like he already does.”

“No, he… he loves you. All of you. But this is… he’ll hate that he loves you, sure, that’s always been the case. But this time… he’ll hate you if you’re the reason he can’t win.”

Something sick twisted within Roman’s gut. He seemed to go all pale and wide-eyed. 

“It’s just a play, though,” Shiv said. 

“Just a play,” Roman echoed, sounding unsure. “It isn’t real?”

Kendall nodded. Shiv, too.

“Fine. Yeah, fuck it. I’m in.” Roman caved, and the two smiled at him. You squeezed his knee. 

With a sharp exhale, Connor huffed, “God damn it. God fucking damn it! You ruined it. You ruined it all.”

Roman apologized, but it seemed to fall upon deaf ears. Kendall tried to calm him down by asking his brother what he wanted to do. After all… it was supposed to be his big night before the big day.

“I wanted to get married tomorrow,” he said, cross. “I wanted to spend tonight with my family and tomorrow with Dad. I wanted to get my fucking money out. But you guys fucked it!”

Feeling mildly guilty, your other hand came up to rub Connor’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, really. You’re an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire. What can we do to make you feel better, Con?”

Several moments passed by in silence as Connor thought about it. What did he want? A giant bowl of ice cream so large you couldn’t see around it? A perfectly-tailored suit from the most expensive store he could find? A vintage bottle of whiskey and a nice book to sit with? They all sounded appealing to him.

“I would…” he finally started, “I’d like to sing one fucking song at karaoke because I’ve seen it in the movies, and nobody ever wants to go.”

Roman just about banged his head on the table. You flicked at his ear, before turning back to Connor. “Karaoke. Yeah, we can do that, Con.”

The room was illuminated with hazy shades of purples and blues, the lights hidden behind indents in the wall. It looked modern and sleek—an upscale to what was typically seen in the movies. Connor didn’t hesitate to make a beeline for the karaoke machine, fiddling with buttons and remotes and smiling to himself when he managed to get it up and working without asking for help. Shiv and Kendall wandered around cautiously. Roman was quick to toss himself onto the long, spacious couch, hanging off of the seats as if he were melting. You curled up beside him with a pleased hum, nose brushing over his lower cheek, scratchy with barely-there stubble.

There was a bit more dilly-dallying—Connor was concerned about Willa’s blue dot disappearing completely. The siblings were quick to brush him off, reassure him, tell him he wasn’t going to ever do better than Willa. The usual.

You sipped on a glass of champagne that Kendall handed you. There was more chatter—amicable and light and teasing. You poked fun at Kendall’s lame hat whilst Shiv plainly told Roman that his shoes were a size too large for his feet. That his feet were small and dainty and he would fall over if they were any smaller. More drinks, more giggling, more stories. You learned that fresh-faced college Kendall once puked on Stewy’s bed and cried at the foot of it after drinking too much. You told the siblings that you once slept with Angelina from accounting during your first year at the company, to which they responded with shocked snorts. There was a point where Roman grabbed your face and kissed you and kissed you until the rest of the siblings began faux-gagging, and Connor complained that it was like watching his siblings make out. Goddaughter-and-son incest, he’d said. 

It was fun, maybe. The closest to fun you could have with Roy siblings.

And it was gone in a second, like a candle snuffed in a hurricane. 

Logan was coming. Connor invited him because he loved him and he loved all of you and—

It hurt. Simple as that. It hurt to see the people he loved so… so torn.

The smiles melted away, and the laughter buzzed down. It was tense again. Family turned business once more. Connor finally put on a song to sing while he waited for his father to come, but your ears rang with white noise, so you didn’t quite register which song he was brokenly following along.

You were scared, you realized. Scared to face the man with the knife in his back. Roman worked his jaw and he complained some more. Not that you really heard what he said.

At some point, his phone began to ring, vibrating in his pants, pressed up against your leg. You raised a brow and scooched back so he could take it out to check. 

Logan. Dad. Of course. Roman’s hands shook, but only a little bit. Enough for you to see. Shiv grabbed it and hung up for him, not liking how long he hesitated. You stared at the black screen for a bit longer, your own fingers twitching.

Connor continued to sing. He finished three songs—maybe four—until the door creaked open. No knocks.

Colin came in first, then your godfather, then Kerry. He nodded, almost polite, with a casual greeting hanging in the air. It was eternally strange, the way Logan smiled at you. Warm, maybe. You didn’t know.

“Shit,” Roman said, almost amused, mostly… unprepared.

Chancing a glance to Shiv and Kendall, you noticed their stiff upper lips, their frozen postures. 

“Can we go somewhere else?” Logan asked, glancing around the large room. “These lights, er…”

Shiv shook her head in exasperation. A roll of her eyes. “We’re not going anywhere.”

There was little resistance to Logan. “Fine,” he easily acquiesced. With that, he took a seat in a velvet black chair, across all the siblings and you. Kerry jerked to sit next to him, which made Shiv recoil with a sneer.

“We won’t be needing you, Kerry. Thanks.”

Roman nodded. “Yeah, this here is a family fuck-fuck.”

There were a few glances around, Logan and Kerry looked at each other but neither moved. 

“Let’s get this figured out, and I can let you get back to your fun,” said Logan, ignoring them.

“Might be a wasted trip,” Kendall sardonically replied, tongue sharp. “Wanna give us a blast of New York, New York and fuck off?”

“I wanted to say something,” their father said.

Shiv retorted something else, and Kendall snickered under his breath. The buzzing in your ears grew louder.

“I guess I just wanted you there, a bit,” Logan said. “At my party.”

It was a play. Was it? Yes, of course. But if it wasn’t… 

But it was.

“Holy shit,” Kendall crooned. “Did Dad just say a feeling?”

“Well, you know. I thought maybe it would be nice,” said Logan. 

With exaggerated motions of his hands, Kendall exclaimed, “Oh, fuck! Now it’s all coming out! Oh, my God, Mr. Melodrama here! It’s like a fucking telenovela!”

Connor gestured between Kendall and his dad. “Come on, guys. He’s trying.”

Logan smiled, calm. “Y/N, dear,” he began. Your eyes snapped up to meet his and your spine seemed to grow rigid. “I had a lovely chat with your father. He was… surprised that you’re no longer holding Waystar together. Wouldn’t it be a shame, considering all the money he’s invested into the company? You’re setting millions on fire.”

The siblings all looked at you, curious. You swallowed, finding your throat painfully dry, despite all the champagne you’d been sipping prior to Logan’s arrival.

“If they expected me to stay at Waystar my entire life, they were always bound to be disappointed,” you responded, careful. “I won’t be tied down.”

A twitch of the old man’s mouth. Down or up or perhaps it hadn’t moved at all. “A shame. You worked so hard to compose acquisition branch details on Pierce just under a year ago. So much paperwork.” He shook his head. “And all of you—you knew I wanted Pierce ever since then. When I lost out, it wasn’t a good feeling.”

Fed up, Shiv finally leaned forward and hissed out, “I’m sorry, can we just cut the shit? It’s obvious why you’re here, Dad!”

Unsuspectingly, Kerry chimed, “Your father wanted to address the personal stuff and not just launch into business.”

Shiv’s jaw clicked. “Well, see, this isn’t personal, Dad. This is a business decision. This is about the money.”

Logan bobbed his head. “Look, you’re smart to ask about the money. You are. But Matsson—he won’t go there. You haven’t been around this, but I’ve got done a good deal and you’ll get enough to do whatever you want. I do ATN, you do Pierce. It’ll be a fresh start for all of us. It’ll make things better, and it starts there. All you have to do is… vote yes and support the deal.”

There was an uneasy shift next to you—Roman looked torn.

“You can separate the personal from the business,” Kerry offered. “Reset your dynamic as a family.”

Shiv snorted. “Oh, super! It’s gonna be just like how it used to—summer vacay and road trip musicals!” 

Hesitant, Roman supplied, “It just… it may be more complicated than that, dad.”

“I guess you’re still in the honeymoon phase,” Shiv told Kerry, cold and sarcastic. “Getting your own show on TV… amazing.”

The dark-haired woman glanced around, seeming to shrink further into her seat.

“No?” Roman asked, his attention piqued. Anything to latch onto to make everything feel less—tortuous. “You’re not going to be on TV now?”

Shiv laughed. “Has he fucked you on that?” 

Kendall nodded. “That’ll happen. The fucking. But congrats on losing your betrayal cherry—”

“Enough!” Logan said. It wasn’t loud, but heavy with finality. Your pulse skipped a beat, scratching down your ribcage almost painfully. Logan looked tired. “I though you’d be interested in an apology, but that’s enough.”

Incredulous, Shiv held a hand out. “Wait, what? An apology? We missed that, I think.”

Logan fixed an intense stare over all his children. “Look, I don’t do apologies. But if it means so much to you, then… sorry.”

In all your years of living, you’re not sure you’ve ever heard Logan apologize before. Was it genuine? Was it real? There was a long, terse silence. Roman stared at his father with his mouth slightly agape. You wrapped your arms around your stomach and stared at the door. Connor was looking down at his shoes. Kendall aimlessly observed Logan, finding that the apology he’d yearned for so many years of his life seemed to fall incredibly flat.

Shiv just about glared at her father in a challenging fashion, lips pursing tight. “There is nothing you could say to me now that I would ever believe.”

“This deal push could be worth a hundred mil to us, Dad,” said Kendall. “How many sorrys do we get for that?”

Kerry was starting to say something, but Roman butted in, looking incredibly troubled. “What are you actually sorry for, Dad? Are we actually doing this? Because I think, you know… seriously, what fucked all of this was when… it all happened with Mom in Italy.”

Logan averted his gaze to the carpeted ground. “Yeah, okay. I’ve had certain thoughts about that. With the best of intentions, I got the structure of the holding company, and the ownership structure of the family trust. There is a lack of clarity, and maybe you got a—”

“Amazing,” Shiv deadpanned, cutting her father off. “You sure you’re not having a seizure?”

For the first time in a very long time, Connor raised his voice at his baby sister. “He’s trying, Shiv! You said you were interested in an apology!”

Shiv glared at her father again. In a less harsh tone, she asked, “Anything else, Dad?”

There was a long pause. You wondered if Logan was haggling for words. 

“Come on, Dad,” Kendall goaded. “What are you sorry for?”

It felt like bullying, almost. In a severely twisted way. 

Kendall continued on, “Are you sorry for fucking ignoring Connor his whole life?”

“Bit strong,” protested Connor.

“Hitting Rome when he was a kid?” Kendall pointed at Roman, who shrugged.

“Oh, no—I mean, everyone hit me. I’m fucking annoying.” 

You frowned at Roman’s words, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

“Having Connor’s mom locked up?” Kendall continued on. 

Something twisted in the eldest Roy sibling’s expression. “Can we not do a whole show trial here?”

Finally, Shiv hissed out, “Okay, what about advising Tom on my divorce? Yeah? I mean, that took effort. That was above and beyond.”

“Tom asked me for advice,” said Logan. It didn’t go past everyone’s notice how he ignored all the rest of the hurtled accusations. “I recommended someone he could speak to. You weren’t around. If you’d been around, I would’ve offered you the same advice. But I can’t help you if you don’t see me.”

Shiv was hurt. It was clear as day, even if she refused to show it. She built up a wall, a front, brick by brick, and spun her hurt feelings into a low-flamed fury.

“Bottom line is, if we ask for more money, Matsson walks. I know that.”

“No!” Shiv asserted. There was something firmer in her tone this time. Angrier. “You don’t know that! You don’t know him! You don’t fucking know everything! Just because you say it doesn’t make it true! Everyone just fucking agrees with you and believes you so it becomes true—and then you can turn around and say oh! You see? I was right! But that’s just—that’s not how it is. You’re a human fucking gaslight!”

The silence that stretched across the room was thin. You were afraid to breathe, and so you bit down on your tongue.

Logan nodded and nodded. The brothers were quiet.

And so you felt compelled to say something. Sick with nerves, but compelled nonetheless. “Matsson has been fucking the company since the very start of negotiations. It’s only fair if you… bite him back.”

Logan watched you. There was something in his eyes that seemed to soften, but it was near imperceptible. Maybe you were simply seeing what you wanted to see. “I can’t take that risk,” he finally said. “Look, I just wanted to get us all together. What you kids don’t realize… this is a good deal. The world likes it. It makes sense. But deals have a habit of disappearing because pricks like Matsson get pissed off or snubbed. This… this is fucking real.”

You turned your head away and stared at the door once more. You wanted to leave. Crawl into bed and stop thinking about it all. Beside you, Roman was biting down on his thumb. A nervous habit.

“Okay, I think I can speak for everyone when I say this… go ask him for more money, Dad.” Shiv narrowed her eyes at her father.

“Why?” Logan asked. Are you not satisfied with what you already have? was the unsaid, lingering question hanging in the air.

Kendall tilted his head up. “Just good business sense. Gotta make our own pile. Right, Dad?” 

“Yeah, I just have to listen to my gut. I just gotta go with what my gut says,” Shiv piled on.

“Oh, come on. Jesus.” Logan pulled at his face, tired. In a span of five, maybe ten minutes… he seemed to age a decade. Finally, finally, the nice mask slipped. He leaned back in the velvet seat and spat out, “You’re such fucking dopes.”

Roman’s nose twitched and he shifted so he could lean further into you. You let him.

“You are not serious figures,” Logan went on. “I love you… but you are not serious people.”

His eyes were glassy for a second, but you weren’t exactly sure, because he stood up and hurriedly strode out of the karaoke room the very next second. No goodbyes. Kerry followed close behind him.

The hazy purple lights were beginning to make you nauseous. 

Everybody sat in silence for a little while longer. Let the conversation marinate. Shiv poured herself a drink and smiled into the rim, expression victorious.

“How was it for you guys?” she asked the group. “Fucking Dad, that is.”

“Amazing. Just over too soon. I could’ve kept going,” Kendall admitted.

Roman abruptly stood up, scratching the back of his head uncomfortably. He made a noise of disgust.

“Rome, we’re kidding, man,” Kendall said.

He began to pace around, like a caged animal. “No, I know. It’s fine. It’s cool.”

Connor also stood up, shrugging on his jacket. “Well… I’m going home. ‘M tired.” 

“G’night, Con,” you said. He reached over the couch to give you a one-armed hug from behind. “She’ll come home. Willa.”

“It’s fine,” Connor said. 

Kendall arched a brow. “Really?”

“Yeah.” There was a nod and a tap of his shoe. “The good thing about having a family that doesn’t love you is that you learn to live without it.”

Shiv’s face crumpled. “What? Con, that’s not—”

With a shake of his head, Connor scoffed. “You’re all chasing after Dad saying, “Oh, please, love me, love me, I need love, I need attention!””

“I think that’s the opposite of what just happened,” Shiv argued. 

“You’re needy love sponges,” Connor pressed. “And I’m a plant that grows on rocks and lives off insects that die inside of me.”

Shiv laughed, Roman huffed, and Kendall stayed silent. 

“If Willa doesn’t come back, that’s fine. ‘Cause I don’t need love. It’s like a superpower,” he said. “And if she comes back and doesn’t love me, that’s okay too. I don’t need it. Thanks for the party.” With that, he stepped out of the karaoke room.

You jolted out of your seat, ignoring Roman’s questions as to where you were going. You rushed out the door after Connor, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste.

“Connor!” you called out. The older man halted in the middle of the dimly lit hallway.

“What? I’m not looking for pity, Y/N—”

You shuffled forward the last few steps and put your hand on his elbow. “Con, I just… I wanted to say—” You shook your head and wrapped your arms around him. “You’re my brother. I know you are. And… even if you don’t need love or whatever you were on about in there… I’ll still love you anyway. Okay? I don’t need you to need my love. You’ll have it.”

There was a momentary pause before Connor jerkily moved to pat your back and hug you back. Loose, but solid.

“You’re just a kid. A kid with my kid brother,” he said once he pulled away, rubbing his palms up and down your forearms. His eyes seemed to be watery and tired, but he laughed right from his belly. “I love you, too, kid.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course.”

The two of you grinned at each other. 

“G’night, Con.” He let you go when you stepped back. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah…”  Connor nodded. “Big day.”

He walked off, and you watched him go. When you heard the door open, you turned to see Roman peeking his head out.

“Hey, Rome,” you greeted. “I love you, you know that?”

His eyes roamed over your face, and he smiled back. It was lopsided and slight. “Mmkay. Yeah, me too, fuckface. You feeling okay?” 

“Yeah. Should get home.” You craned your neck to lean forward, affectionately pecking his cheek. “You coming with?”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Eyes to the ground, then to the walls. Not on you. 

“Not… not yet. I’ll come in a bit. Just need to grab something from my place first.”

His place was barren. Everything in his place, you had in yours. You probably had more of his clothes in your closet than his own. You regarded him with a curious look, but decided not to press further.

“Okay, Rome. You have the key. Just don’t jostle me awake when you climb into bed.”

He guffawed. “I’ll sleep on the floor then, your royal majesty.” 

“Thank you.”

“I was joking. Just so you know. You prick.”

“I know. I wouldn’t want you to sleep on the floor, anyway. A waste of body heat.”

He kissed you then, surging forward to chase after your lips. You hummed in pleasant surprise, but kissed him back with just as much vigor. His lips were a darker shade of pink when he pulled away.

“See you at home, Roman.” After a final pat on his cheek, it was your turn to walk off. 

Roman wrung his hands nervously. There’d been a text to his phone while you were out talking to Connor—from his Dad. He glanced back at the door, where Shiv and Kendall were still speaking to each other inside. He rolled his shoulders and began to slowly walk out of the building, careful not to bump into you.

He was going to go pay his father a visit.

The top spot at ATN. Was it a tempting offer in it of itself or was it just tempting because his father was goading him to lick off the silver platter?

When he told you, and of course he told you, you just about blew up—in the most professional, stick-in-ass way possible—warning him not to take the offer with a strained voice and wide eyes. Not even consider it. ATN wasn’t where he wanted to be. His father was offering him a cyanide pill, obscured by a layer of fucking strawberries and cream.

The next morning, he numbly got dressed for Connor’s wedding. Got into the car after you, pinching your thigh once he clambered in next to you. His father called him on the way there, much to your dismay, telling him to come with him to meet Matsson, despite Connor’s wedding being literal hours away.

Roman turned him down. But he didn’t turn Logan away when he told Roman to fire Gerri since, apparently, he was beginning to lose faith in her. 

You were pretending not to listen to their conversation, but he knew you were. He could tell by the way your jaw seemed to twitch at the prospect of cutting Gerri loose. 

“Shit,” he breathed out once Logan hung up on him. “That’s fucking… bullshit.”

You drew your eyes away from the window, regarding him with narrowed eyes. “Don’t do it, Rome.”

Everything felt crowded and tense all of a sudden. Roman squared his shoulders defensively. There was a stinging quip on the tip of his tongue, but nothing seemed to come out other than a rather passive, “Mmh.” 

The rest of the drive to the wedding venue was silent. But your hand came to lace with his, and that made him feel just a bit better. 

Once there, about half a dozen cameras swarmed the two of you coming out of the car, taking several candid shots, much to your irritation. It was only expected, what with Connor being in the run for president and the whole wedding being a PR move, anyway. But you gave them a smile nonetheless, made a show of kissing Roman’s cheek and walked off to greet other work acquaintances and wedding guests. From the corner of your eye, you could see Roman trying to talk to Gerri with a rather terse look on his face. You tried not to pay him any mind. He was digging his own grave.

Half an hour later, the wedding planner announced for family and friends to start boarding the boat. The few businesswomen you were chatting to kissed you on the cheek and told you they’d see you soon. You waved them goodbye and made your way onto the boat. Kissed and hugged and congratulated Willa. She looked beautiful in her wedding dress, even if she didn’t appear all too happy wearing it. After a short conversation, you moved on into the boat.

It was lavishly decorated, screaming luxury and American patriotism. There was a concerning amount of blue and red strewn everywhere. They weren’t being very subtle, were they?

You made your way onto the second floor, greeted by Kendall in a pair of sunglasses.

“Hey, loser,” he said, nudging you in the side. “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” you replied, giving him a quick once over. “You look shitty. Hiding your terrible eyebags behind those shades, are you? Not doing a very good job, by the way.”

He seemed unfazed by your jab. “You excited for the wedding?”

“Neither Connor nor Willa seem too hot about it,” you told him with a mild grimace. On your way to the boat, you heard Connor yelling at his wedding planner about the cake being inadequate.

Kendall shrugged and pulled a nonchalant expression. “It’ll blow over. They’ll be fine.”

“I know. It just feels so… fake. All of it.” You jerked your head toward a frilly blue, red, and white banner. 

“Yeah, well, yours won’t be,” he said, scrutinizing you behind those ridiculous shades of his. “With Rome, I mean.”

“Wow! Yeah, well, we aren’t quite there yet, I think.” You laughed and rolled your eyes to the ceiling. “Besides, I can’t guarantee that you’re even invited to this hypothetical wedding. Who knows? I can never tell with you guys. You’re always five minutes away from ruining each other’s lives or being best friends.”

“I’ll crash your wedding if I’m not invited. It’s my baby brother, dude. I have to be there,” he said. You couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not. 

“Good to know,” came your lighthearted retort. “I’ll be sure to save a slice of cake for you.”

With that, you bumped your fist into his bicep and walked off. Then, you spotted Roman out on deck, phone in his hand. You stepped out just in time to hear him bark out, “Don’t listen to this if you don’t want to—but I’m not… I’m not, uh, totally okay with… are you kinda just being shitty with me, Dad? ‘Cause… your son is getting married, and you can’t fucking just keep expecting me to bend over for you and being cunty, so I’m just asking. Yeah—that’s the question, actually. Are you a cunt? Okay. Give me a buzz.”

There were a few seconds of silence after he hung up. You approached him from behind and slung both your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder. 

“Hey, fuckface,” he said. He sounded tired. Distressed.

“Hey,” you quietly said in reply. “I’m proud of you.”

“For calling Dad a cunt?”

“Yeah.” You huffed out a laugh. “I really am proud of you.”

Roman leaned back against you and hummed. “I just got on this boat and I already want to fucking leave.”

“That’ll break Connor’s heart.” 

“I know. I’m his favorite brother.”

“I think Shiv is his favorite brother, actually.”

The two of you laughed, and he didn’t bother arguing back. 

“Come on. I think Kendall and Shiv are looking for you,” you said, tugging him inside.

The two of you greeted the three other Roy siblings, where Connor was giving a rundown of his plan for Logan. 

“Okay, so the idea is that Dad will pop by, be dockside, and you guys will just be up here. I think that’s cleanest,” Connor told all of you.

Shiv pursed her lips and tilted her head. “Oh… okay. You really think he’s going to pop by?”

“I spoke with Kerry,” Connor said with a smile, crossing his fingers. “He’s hoping.”

With a nod of thanks, he gave you and Roman both a quick hug, before rushing back downstairs to be with his wife-to-be. 

“Well, someone’s gotta tell him,” said Shiv. “We should tell him.”

“We should,” Kendall agreed. Both you and Roman nodded. 

“Well, Shiv, you are his favorite,” you offered. 

The woman’s face regarded you as if you’d just stabbed her in the back. “No, come on—really?”

“He likes you,” Kendall insisted.

“Fine,” she sighed with slitted eyes. “I’ll be the wedding Grinch. Fuck you.”

The three of you watched her go with muted snickers. 

Then, Roman’s phone began to buzz. He fished it out of his pocket and let out an annoyed groan upon seeing Tom’s caller ID. 

“Oh my—ugh,” Roman hastily pressed on the green answer button, “Hello? Fucky-sucky brigade, how can I help you? Yeah?” 

You leaned onto the fancy leather couches next to Kendall, who was staring out the window, watching the gentle waves roil over the surface of the harbor. “Hey, Ken?”

“Mmh?”

“I’d invite you, you know.” 

Kendall’s eyes left the waters to look at you. “What?”

“To my wedding. Before I said I couldn’t guarantee you a spot—but I’d want you there.”

Something akin to gratitude flashed across his face. Before he could say anything, Roman’s panicked voice echoed over, and the both of you snapped your heads towards him.

“What?” he said into the phone. “Tom, what are you—?”

“What?” Kendall asked, immediately on his feet. “What’s happening?”

You followed suit, the two of you hovering over Roman’s sides. 

His palms grew white over the phone. “It’s—uh, Tom. Apparently Dad’s sick. Uh, what do you mean he’s sick? Sick, like—Tom? What’s going on? Are you still there?” 

“Where is he now?” you asked, brows furrowed. Roman could only shake his head, equally clueless, pulling the phone away so he could put it on speaker.

“Is he okay?” Kendall immediately asked. “Who’s with him?”

There was a lot of rustling and rummaging. It felt as if your heart had crawled its way into your throat. 

“It—it seems bad. Very, very bad. I’m so sorry to call you like this,” Tom’s voice crackled through.

“What?” you croaked. “What is it, though? Like, a fever?”

“Can you put him on the phone?” Roman asked. His voice shook and his brows were pulled tightly together. 

Again, Kendall asked the same questions, “Who’s there? Tom, what’s going on? What happened?”

“Ah—” You could practically see Tom scratching at his head. “He was short of breath and he went into the bathroom. And, well, uh, someone heard something and we were concerned, and they went in there.”

Kendall used his hands to gesticulate to nobody in particular. “They broke in?”

“They broke in, yeah. They had the key and they got in, but he’s not responsive.”

“Not responsive?” you parroted, eyes widening. This was far worse than just… sick. “Like—is he conscious?”

The brothers started to blurt out a multitude of questions, concerns exponentially heightened. 

“Is he talking? Can he talk?” Kendall asked.

“Is he breathing?” Roman’s shoulders were hunched over, as if he was trying to shrink in on himself. 

There was a brief pause. Uncomfortable and festered with fear. 

“They’re doing chest compressions,” Tom’s voice pierced through.

Your lungs seemed to contract in panic at his words. The room felt all the smaller. 

“Oh!” Roman exclaimed in a mixture of both shock and anguish. “Fuck.”

Kendall only pressed on with his queries. “Has his heart stopped?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you guys have the machine on board? The heart thing?” Roman asked.

“The defibrillator,” you said, clutching both your anxious, wringing hands to your chest. 

How had the day turned on its head so quickly?

“Is Siobhan there?” Tom’s voice was patchy and unclear. It was hard to hear over Kendall’s barrage of frustration.

“No, she’s not,” said Roman.

“Karl said that maybe he’s breathing,” Tom claimed.

Leaning forward, you hissed out, “Karl isn’t a medical professional, Tom. Who’s trained in there?”

“The, uh, the people. The attendant. I’ll put you on speaker—here’s, uh, Karl, here—”

The older man’s voice buzzed through, “That captain has been informed. The cabin staff are receiving medical advice from their service.”

Both Kendall and Roman barked questions over each other. Faintly, you heard an additional third voice in the back of the call.

“Is that Frank?” you asked. 

Tom cleared his throat. “Yeah, so—Frank thinks you guys should speak to him.  And I can—I can hold the phone near him if you’d like.”

Roman bit down on his tongue, angry. “Why does Frank think that, Tom?”

“I guess if it’s a last chance, you know. I think it’s the last chance.”

A shudder and a glare from Roman to the phone. “What the fuck do you mean, Tom?”

“You think he’s gonna die?” you whispered, eyes stinging as you stared down at the screen, watching the seconds of the call tick by.

“He’s… he’s not in good shape. They’re doing chest compressions.”

“Well, should they be doing that?” Roman just about yelled at the phone. You placed a hand on his hunched shoulder.

Frank began talking again, “They’re getting advice, they know what they’re doing. But I think you should talk to him. I’m not sure he’s breathing.”

The two both spluttered angrily. In denial, in frustration, in utter devastation.

“We just heard that he was breathing two seconds ago, Frank. You shouldn’t be doing CPR on someone who’s heart is still going! What the fuck is going on, Frank?” Kendall gritted out.

“I’ll put you by his ear,” Tom said. “I’ll put you right by him. He’ll be able to hear you if—if he can.”

If you hadn’t been so hyperfocused on the call, you would’ve realized that your entire body began to simultaneously tremble and tense, like a plank of wood caught in a hurricane. 

“Uh, you might wanna get Shiv, so she can—” 

“Yeah, we’ll—we’ll get her,” said Roman.

“Okay, I’ll put you by him now.”

“Is he okay?”

“No, Rome, he’s not okay.”

“You can speak now. Go ahead.”

There was a blistering silence. Roman gestured for Kendall to take the phone first, but he shook his head. He turned to you, but you weren’t even looking in his direction, clamoring for your own phone to try and contact Karolina. Your hands seemed not to work in coordination with your mind, because you struggled getting your phone to unlock, and then struggled even more to open up the right app to get to your contacts list.

This left Roman to speak to his maybe-dead dad on his own. He hurried around the room, as if there was going to be a corner on this wretched yacht that would make this somewhat easier to say. He ended up crouching by the end of the leather couch. 

“Hey, Dad. I, uh, hope you’re okay. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.” Was he reassuring himself or his father? “Because you’re a—you’re a monster, and you’re going to win. ‘Cause you just—you just win. That’s what you do. And you’re, uh… you’re a good man. You’re a good dad. A very good dad. Uh… you did a good job. No—no. I’m sorry, I don’t know how to do that.”

With that, Roman unceremoniously stood up and shoved his phone right into your palms, tugging away your own. “It’s your turn.”

Your shaking grew all the worse, but you put on a brave face and held it up to your face.

“Oh, uhm—hi, Uncle Logan. You, uhm… oh—I wasn’t prepared or this, you know, I would’ve… I would’ve, if I’d known, I wouldn’t have…”

It occurred to you that you managed to say absolutely nothing in the precious few seconds he had left. This sent you spiraling into another bout of anxious trembling. You only barely registered Roman’s own shaking hand on your side.

“You were so—such a big role in my life. So important. And—and, and, I really couldn’t have done anything without your help. Thank you. For everything. I… I love you, Uncle Lo. Really, I do. And I love your kids like my own siblings, and—and Rome, I’m—I love him. I promise I’ll, uh, I’ll take care of him. I just—uhm, I can’t really, there are just so many things you…”

Your nails scratched over your chest as you heaved out a shuddering breath. Realizing you couldn’t finish, you made your way over to Kendall and handed the phone to him with teary eyes.

“Okay,” Kendall said with the phone by his nose, blinking helplessly at the ground. “Hang in there. Yeah? Uhm…”

“It’ll be okay,” Roman softly whispered to him.

“It’ll be okay,” Kendall repeated into the phone. “We love you, Dad. Okay? We love you. I love you, Dad. I do. I love you, okay? Uh—and… it’s okay. Even though you fucking… I don’t know. I can’t—I can’t forgive you.”

You sniffled and wiped a stray tear with the sleeve of your dress. 

After a few final words, Kendall handed the phone back to Roman. Tom’s voice crackled through again, asking for Shiv. 

“Ken’s gonna get Shiv,” Roman said, voice small and child-like. Kendall nodded and staggered his way out of the room.

There was more commotion on the other end of the line. 

“What’s going on now?” Roman asked. 

“I, uhm—there’s, I’m not so sure—” Tom’s glitchy voice replied. “I think he’s gone, Roman.”

“What?” you asked.

“I think—I don’t know, I think there might not be a pulse, they’re not—”

A few seconds passed, with only scuffling noises on the other end. Shiv and Kendall appeared through the doorway just a minute later.

“They think he’s gone,” Roman told his sister as he handed the phone to her. “They think he’s dead.”

“What?” Shiv asked, her eyes welling up almost instantaneously. “No! I… I can’t have that.”

Tom spoke a few words to his wife, telling her that he was putting the phone back by Logan’s ear. Shiv strode away to ramble to her father in a semi-panicked fashion. She called him Dad at first, which spiraled into whisper-cries of Daddy, and angry curses intermingled with a multitude of I love yous.

You tugged at your face, aching with all the tension you were carrying. Roman’s hand was on your arm, but he left your side half a minute later to take the phone away from Shiv, who seized up with incoherent noises through blurred tears. He hugged her, but she didn’t return it, frozen on the spot.

The siblings all asked him more questions. 

“Is he okay at all?” Kendall asked.

“He’s not okay, no,” replied Tom. “He’s not.”

Shiv sucked in a shaky breath. “Is he gone? Tom?”

A brief pause.

“They say his heart stopped and his breathing stopped, too. For a while, maybe.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t mean he’s dead, medically!” Roman asserted. “Right?”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that it did mean exactly that.

“I don’t know,” came Tom’s calm voice. “They’re still doing chest compressions.”

Kendall began to order Tom around, then Frank, then Jess. Something about getting the best doctor in the world. The best airplane medicine expert, whatever that meant. He disappeared out of the room to go up to the deck. You took a seat on the couch and sank your face into your palms.

When Kendall returned, his face was solemn and set in stone. “Frank thinks he’s gone,” he said.

Roman sank down on the ground, right by your feet. Shiv took a seat next to you.

“Why didn’t you come and get me?” Shiv sniffled, looking up at her big brother. 

“I—Shiv, I did. We did,” Kendall said.

“No, but I was right out there. How long was it happening before?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m—I wasn’t thinking—” Kendall shook his head.

Roman drew in a sharp breath. “There was no time. I promise you, there was no time at all.”

Kendall took his little sister’s hand and repeated his apologies. The sight made more tears spill over your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, guys,” you hoarsely said. “He’s not even my dad.”

“No, it’s…” Roman patted your knee. “He was. He is. Kind of.”

“It’s just—on the phone Tom said that Kerry spoke to him. Quite a bit,” Shiv said, voice bitter.

“I don’t know,” said Kendall. “I don’t—we don’t know if he could hear us.”

Another sniffle. Shiv nodded a bit. “Yeah. I’m just sad, I guess.”

Roman shifted uncomfortably, looking up at his siblings and you with large, worried eyes. “Uh—do we know if he was on his phone at all? Like, if he checked his messages or anything?”

Faintly, you recalled Roman leaving a voice message for him. Right. Roman had called his father a cunt. And you’d said you were proud of him for it. Nausea pressed fervently against the inside of your stomach. Roman drew in a sharp, stressful breath.

“Rome, it’s okay,” Kendall assured him. “We’re okay. You did good.”

The words didn’t sit with you well. You did good—as if it were one last performance before the curtains closed. The circus monkey and the ringleader. 

“Yeah, I know,” he quickly replied. Roman’s expression crumpled. “I don’t know if—I just don’t know. Like, if I said… I just feel like I didn’t—did I even say I loved him?”

Kendall nodded. “I think so, yeah.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t,” Roman asserted. The grip he had on your knee tightened. “Do you know?”

“Ro, hon, I’m—” The words lodged in your throat as you reached out to brush your knuckles over his cheekbone. “He knows.”

“No, but I really don’t think I did—” Roman jerked away to lean closer to the phone Tom was calling through. “Tom, could you put me back to his ear for—ergh, fuck it. Never mind. I don’t know. Maybe just keep the line open.”

If Tom replied, you didn’t hear.

Instead, you glanced out the doorway, where you saw Connor speaking to some other wedding guests. He didn’t know.

“Oh, fuck. We need to get Connor. We need to tell him,” Roman said, following your gaze. “Can you do it, Ken? I don’t think I can. I mean, I could, I definitely could, I just—”

Kendall nodded solemnly, and stood up. Shiv offered to go with him, rising to her feet and drawing in a deep breath in a fruitless attempt to maintain her long-gone composure. 

“Thank you,” Roman said from the ground. He crossed his legs and leaned against the side of your shins. In turn, you placed your hands on his shoulders and squeezed reassuringly.

“I don’t remember the last thing I said to him,” you mumbled, voice filled with irritating tremors and warbles. “In that karaoke room. I don’t remember any of it, and I wasn’t even drunk or anything, I just—”

Roman pressed his cheek against your thigh, shutting his eyes. “I think you were okay. I don’t know. Maybe he heard us. And you have such a nice voice, y’know? Maybe it was good for him. If he heard it.”

The two of you sat in stuffy silence for a few minutes more. 

The three other siblings came to fetch the two of you sooner than you would’ve liked—whisking all of you upstairs to a more secluded room. Connor had tears in his eyes when all of you filed in, face wrought with anguish. “What happened?” he asked, sounding utterly devastated.

Roman apologized over and over again, but made no attempts to explain to him. Instead, he reached forward to grab at his oldest brother’s arm in a strange sort of semi-hug as Kendall filled Connor in on what happened.

“Well, actually, we don’t really know that he’s gone,” Roman asserted to the rest of you, drawing away from them. 

Both Kendall and Shiv began to clamor over the likelihood of Logan’s death. They seemed surprised that Roman was clinging onto such hope that he was alive. You watched Roman with such sad eyes that when he looked at you, he found himself growing even more upset.

“What?” he asked you crossly, brows drawing together. “Why are you looking at me like that? He—he could still fucking be alive! We don’t know! Are you going to trust, what, like, fucking Frank and Karl’s word on it? Don’t look at me like I’m crazy!”

“Right, well, you sound delusional, Rome,” Shiv tried telling him. You could tell she was trying to lay it easy on him and be nice, but it didn’t quite sound that way.

The siblings argued some more. Roman kept denying that Logan was dead, while Shiv gritted out that he’s gone. 

“All I’m saying is that we don’t know for sure. And—and until we do know, it’s just not a very nice thing to say, is it? So just fucking stop!” Roman yelled the last word out, and it ricocheted across the room like a bullet would. 

They all fell silent for a moment.

“Okay,” Shiv said. She looked to be on the verge of crying again. With quiet, reassuring words, Connor wrapped an arm around his little sister and let her lean against him.

“Roman,” you said, making his eyes snap to you. They were red and looked so tired. You were sure yours looked just the same. When you spread your arms as a non-verbal invite, he surged forward and buried himself into your embrace. The two of you held onto each other as if you were both lifeboats for one another in this vast sea of fucking nothing.

Kendall, disillusioned, went back to staring out the window.

“He didn’t want us together,” Roman choked out, forehead drooped onto your sternum. “He fucking—he told me to end it, and I didn’t listen, and I just never listened to him…”

Both your hands rubbed up and down his back. “I know. I know, Rome. I love you even if he didn’t want me to.”

Your words made Roman’s shoulders curl closer to his chest. Closer to you. “Fuck. Me, too, okay? Me, too.”

Half an hour later, the boat began moving away from the dock, much to all of your chagrin. 

Hugo had also come into the room, acting as a liaison. He told the lot of you that the plane-folk were starting to draft a statement to release to the news. The siblings angrily called them to ask what was going on—which did little to sway them.

Not too long after, Gerri came in to offer her condolences. Her presence made Roman all the more turbulent, and he lashed out at her, telling her to fuck off. 

Shiv asked her godmother if maybe they could stay up in the air a bit longer to give everyone some more time to think—and Roman told her to fuck off, too. At that point, you stepped in to say that it’s probably best not to delay the inevitable. Thankfully, Roman didn’t tell you to fuck off at that.

“Just to say,” Kendall said once both Hugo and Gerri hurried off to answer calls and get more information, “every single thing we say and do today… it’s all going in the memoirs, going in the fucking congressional record, it’s coming up at board meetings, it’s going in SEC filings.”

“God, Kendall,” you said, pinching the space between your brows. “Your grief is not a fucking spectacle, okay? It’s not—none of this is meant to be a performance. You can… you can be a fucking human being for once, okay?”

“No, but, listen, I’m agreeing with you,” he said, holding out a hand. “If we tell them to circle the plane around to buy us time, then some fucking rumors start up, and we get crucified for being cold-hearted, or—I don’t even know. We’re highly liable to misinterpretation right now. What we do today will always be what we did the day our father died. So I’m agreeing with you, Y/N. We shouldn’t delay the inevitable.”

Nose flaring, Shiv shook her head in a frustrated manner.

“So, you know, let’s grieve and whatever,” Kendall continued on, “but not do anything that restricts our future freedom of movement.”

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding in agreement. “Okay, Kendall. We’ll be careful.”

The siblings stepped out to discuss drafting statements themself, and you told them you’d arrange transport off the boat to the airport, where they’d be landing. 

Before you reconvened with them, however, you dropped by to see Connor one last time.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered with a frown that felt strangely childish, enveloping him in a hug. “I’m sorry your dad died, and I’m sorry I won’t be here to see you get married. Everything’s gone to shit and I hate that I can’t do anything about it.”

“It’s okay,” Connor said, rubbing your back comfortingly, not unsimilar to what you did with Roman. “It’s okay, kiddo. I appreciate you coming here to tell me.”

You pulled away, using the back of your palm to brush away your tears. “I got you, uhm—as a wedding present, I got you an oil painting kit. It’s not much, but I thought it’d be fun to try it out with you one day. I guess I just didn’t think—I thought I’d be able to give it to you after the ceremony, but… I don’t think I’ll be around. I’m sorry.”

Connor nodded, and smiled at you sadly. “It’s like you haven’t changed at all in twenty years, you know that? I feel so fuckin’ old.”

“Have a happy wedding, Con,” you told him. With that, you turned on your heel and headed off, breathing out a sigh of relief upon seeing a smaller boat right by the one you were on, ready to take you back to land.

One boat ride, one helicopter flight, and one private car later, you arrived at Teterboro Airport, where their plane touched down. Logan was announced dead at arrival. Roman balked and nearly puked up what little he’d eaten on the boat—you rubbed his back and told him everything was okay as he dry-retched nothing in the airport bathroom. There were already dozens of news reporters and journalists flooding the entrance-way for the impromptu press conference the Roy siblings were holding.

Before the sun was down, the news was spilled at the hands of Shiv. It was short and concise, over in no more than a minute. Questions, questions, and more questions—none of which were answered.

“Are we going to go see him?” Roman asked once it was all over. The plane was in view.

“Do we have to?” Kendall replied.

“I mean, he’s not going to be angry if we don’t,” Shiv replied. The rest of you smiled in silence.

Then, Kendall opened his arms, and the four of you leaned into a brief group hug. You kissed Shiv’s cheek and told her to get home safe. She nodded and took her leave. 

Roman jutted his head in the direction of the plane. “I’m gonna go see him. You coming, Kendall?” 

The oldest scuffed his shoe into the concrete pathway. “I’m gonna—I’ll watch him come down from here.”

“Okay,” said Roman. There was no surprise in his tone, but it lacked any sort of harsh judgment. 

“I’ll come with you,” you told Roman, taking his hand. “If you’re going to go see him, I’ll come with you.”

“Didn’t expect anything less,” he replied, eyes soft and sad. 

With a nod of goodbye at Kendall, the two of you left him to stand by the airport exit. 

“Do you think he would’ve been okay with us being together eventually, though?” Roman asked after a while, growing increasingly nervous as you neared the plane. Even now that his father was dead, he was still grasping for his approval.

There was a moment of contemplative silence. You wondered if you truly knew the answer to that, or if you were simply feeding into the kind-hearted caricature of a man Logan often didn’t live up to. 

“I think so,” you replied. Roman squeezed your hand. “I think he would’ve been proud of us for sticking together, even if he didn’t want us to at first. He would’ve respected you for it, eventually, because you didn’t take his shit.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You beckoned to the stairs leading up into the plane’s cabin. “You ready?”

“No.” Roman’s jaw squared. “I’m scared, I think. But I have to go see him. You don’t have to come, you know. You don't have to be so fucking good all the time. You can just leave if you want to.”

With a contemplative hum, you nodded once after barely giving his words any thought. “I know I don’t have to be here. I know it all, Rome. But I’ll come with you anyway. Anywhere you go.”

Roman raised your conjoined hands, kissed your knuckles in an appreciative manner, and led the way inside.

[updownlately]

cause i've never loved somebody (the way i love you)

| _____ x reader | a/n: an idea i got seeing an edit of a movie. i wanted to show a lovesick reader bc why not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. feel free to pick who you want as the girlfriend/partner :) (i could also see this being a part one to a story...)

~~~

It's the smile on your face, unwavering as you went about your day, practice with the team flying by in a breeze, your eyes shimmering with joy throughout, excited for what the rest of the night held for you.

It's how you're quietly humming to yourself as you showered and changed into a fresh set of clothes, Beth and Steph watching you amusedly as you flew off into your own world, nervous yet excitable energy evident as it thrummed through your veins.

It's the way you don't even flinch as Beth pulls you aside when you rush to leave, ready to go before any of the other girls had even got changed, you turning around, beaming grin on your face as you impatiently rocked side-to-side on your feet.

"Hey, is everything okay? Are you fine?"

The question came out nonchalant, but the concern was clear in Beth's actions, her head tilting to the side as she gave you a once-over, voice rising ever so slightly towards the end.

Biting back your growing smile, heart warming at the older girl's worry, your eyes twinkled as your mind flew back to why you were leaving so quickly (not that the reasoning had even left your thoughts for more than a second).

"Everything's good. Really good in fact. I'm actually really happy- really, after a long time..."

The words fell easily from your lips, them being completely truthful and sincere.

You'd been happier recently, no doubt the reasoning for that being one person, your person, not that many people knew.

But Beth did. Beth knew. And so you cheekily waited as realization struck her.

Watching intently as her head tilted to the other side and the right-winger's face scrunched in thought, your tongue peeked from between your teeth in amusement as the pieces finally clicked into place for her, eyebrows raising as she reached her conclusion.

"Woah- are you in love?"

Unable to stop your grin from widening this time, you nodded timidly.

"I- yeah, yeah I am. I really love her."

With Beth being the one to have encouraged you to make the first move in your relationship, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at the lovesick look on the face of someone she considered a younger sister.

"I'm assuming you've got plans with her tonight?"

And as you nodded vigorously, this time rocking back and forth whilst you moved a few messy hair strands out of your face, Beth couldn't help but aww audibly, your enthusiasm adorable.

Not wanting to keep you any longer should you explode from impatience, she decided to bid her farewell to you rather quickly.

"I'll let you go, yeah? You have a good night, kid."

Meeting her eyes, you nodded once more, a small 'thank you' slipping from your lips, the way your eyes twinkled as you said the two words not lost on Beth, her own smiling widening with your two-fold appreciation.

Giving the Gunner a hug, you quickly collected yourself, slipping out of the door lest you have to stay back another minute.

With the sole intention of making it home to the date night your girlfriend had so graciously organized for the two of you, one she'd been hyping up for the past week, you safely sped out of the parking lot, your smile still not having left your face for even a second, cheeks nearly beginning to hurt.

This wasn't the love you were used to, but God did it give you butterflies- the good kind that felt like a tender hug, or a warm cookie on a chilly night, or a cup of tea on a rainy afternoon- the good kind of love, really.

A love you were glad to have found in the shape of the one you had patiently waiting at home.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

New Zelda idea!

Ok, so this idea has kind of been simmering in my head but it’s getting entertaining now so I’m sharing it.

OC Zelda and Link!

Princess Zelda is a bold and beautiful young woman trying to prepare for ruling her kingdom. She is famous of her commanding personality, for her magical strength which comes as easily as breathing, and for being decisive. When a prophet speaks of impending doom and monster attacks are on the rise, Zelda goes to the Temple of Time with sacred artifacts to utilize the Triforce and stop the darkness before it can start.

However, when she tries to touch the Triforce it shatters into three pieces.

Zelda is stupefied and horrified. Why would it do such a thing? The Triforce only splits for those who are unworthy, and she of all people is freaking worthy ok???

But she isn’t. She’s left with only one piece: Power.

Humiliated but not defeated, she decided that she must seek out the bearers of the other two pieces so they can bring peace to the kingdom. This causes friction with her mother, who has been trying for years to reel her daughter’s pride in.

Zelda: I have to seek them out so I can fix this! Queen: You can fix this by fixing yourself. The Triforce deemed you unworthy, incapable of handling such a task. Zelda: Are you saying that I’m incapable of this? Queen: The goddesses are saying you are incapable.

Least to say, their relationship is a bit strained.

On her journey, she seeks out young men named Link. Legend says that was the hero’s name, and clearly he probably has a way to either help her find the missing Triforce pieces or he bears one of them.

Of course, the problem is that half the kingdom names their sons Link.

Zelda naturally thinks she can figure this out with her powers, so the first Link she finds she basically chaotically strong arms into joining her.

Zelda: So your name is Link, right? Link: Uh… yes, Your Highness. Zelda: Perfect! You’ll help me with my quest. Link: Um… I’m not exactly a hero, Your Highness. Zelda: Nonsense! I can sense the magic within you. You’re stronger than you know. Now, come along, destiny is calling! There is darkness looming and we must stop it. Link: I’m, uh, a masseur. Zelda: Link: Zelda: Well I could use a massage anyway, so come on!

So Zelda and her legendary masseur travel across the land seeking other Links, though none of the others seem to stick like the first one does. Zelda can sense that there’s something different about him, though she doesn’t know what. Maybe the fact that he’s Gerudo makes a difference? Meh.

Anyway, they eventually end up in the Lost Woods because legend claims that the Master Sword is there. Link’s not about this place, naturally, but the pair goes in. They find a dungeon and both nearly die while screaming and holding each other because Zelda relies solely on her magic and Link is… a masseur. But just as they’re about to be killed a man comes in and saves them. He escorts them out, alongside his trusty doggo, and bids them adieu despite Zelda asking him eighty thousand times who he is and if his name is Link.

Yeah, his name is Link. No, he won’t go on your awesome Quest To Save the World. He and doggo are happy in the Lost Woods, thanks. But Zelda is determined, and poor Masseur Link gets dragged into her schemes to try and recruit Mystery Link. He’s a fighter and she can sense something about him too.

Long story short, Zelda has the Triforce of Power, Ganondorf Gerudo Link has the Triforce of Courage, and Actual Mystery Link has the Triforce of Wisdom. Zelda has to learn to become a better, more well rounded person to be able to wield all three pieces. Link the Masseur has to learn to face his people’s past and his legacy. Link the Wanderer has to learn to love life again.

Anyway. Yeah.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Markos Moulitsas (kos) at Daily Kos:

In the wake of Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s exit from his failed independent bid for president, Republicans were giddy at his endorsement, and that (re)endorsement of former Rep. Tulsi Gabbard a few days later. In their minds, it was but the beginning of a flood of Democratic defections to Donald Trump. That never happened. But Republicans sure are defecting to the Democratic ticket!  It’s hard to understate just how excited conservatives were. 

"We now have a trio of Power Rangers who can swoop right into the middle of the rival party and convince traditional Democrats that it's OK to leave a party that left them,” a senior Trump adviser told conservative outlet Just the News, founded by former Washington Examiner editor John Solomon, back on Aug. 24. The quote was so ridiculous, that this “senior Trump adviser” was too embarrassed to put his name on it. The third “Power Ranger” is Elon Musk, who is an independent.  "I think that the Trump people should package Tulsi Gabbard and Robert F Kennedy Jr, together, and they would—as joint former Democrat witnesses about the corruption of the system—be devastating,” said former House Speaker Newt Gingrich on the “John Solomon Reports” podcast, apparently with a straight face. 

“[I]t shows you that today's Democratic Party is leaving these people behind. Today's Democratic Party is so radical, so dangerous, so progressive, that there are millions of Democrats who are leaving that party every day," said Republican National Committee Chairman Michael Whatley to Just the News. "We're seeing thousands of them that are coming our way.”  Yeah, no they’re not. In fact, their endorsements only serve to remind voters of how weird and creepy Republicans are.  Kennedy was funded by right-wing donors in order to take votes from the Democratic ticket, and was so batshit crazy that he repelled weirded-out Democrats and ended up taking votes from the Republican ticket. He would’ve stayed in if any Democrats were actually interested in what he was selling. 

[...] Musk, long lost to the fever swamps of the right, isn’t attracting any Democrats anytime soon. On Sunday, Musk tweeted “interesting observation” at an incel posting that women and “low T men” shouldn’t be allowed to vote. “Only high T alpha males and aneurotypical people (hey autists!) are actually free to parse new information with an objective ‘is this true?’ filter,” the weirdo wrote. “This is why a Republic of high status males is best for decision making. Democratic, but a democracy only for those who are free to think.”  Not really the sort of thing any campaign should be associating with, even if this is the sort of material Sen. JD Vance might embrace. Gabbard hasn’t damaged Trump by association this past week simply because she hasn’t said anything publicly. She’s supposedly helping Trump with debate prep, playing the role of Vice President Kamala Harris. But nothing in her history suggests she’ll attract traditional Democrats. She lost the plot a long time ago. 

Kamala Harris has oodles of GOP endorsements, such as Adam Kinzinger. Donald Trump, on the other hand, has very few Democrats endorsing him.

[variousqueerthings]

Hiii! This question is kinda apropos of nothing but I’m curious: who is the person in your profile pic? Every time I scroll past it a little too fast I think it’s Alan Alda/Hawkeye haha

no worries (i think alan alda would be honoured, if i remember correctly, he mentioned meeting him once as a kid in his memoir). it's this fellow:

his name was conrad veidt, a famous german actor of the weimar republic, later escaped to britain and then the us to get away from the nazis with his jewish wife, Ilona Prager. he also starred in two pro-jewish films shortly after the nazis came to power in 1933 (the wandering jew, and jew süss, but i confess i haven't watched these yet, so i cannot say how well they aged) -- generally did a few films that were about Social Issues that came down on the side of the oppressed, including the woman's crusade, and the merry-go-round, as well as... (see below)

famous for some very important movies: 1. played the lead in the first movie to openly portray gay men (anders als die andern), which was produced by magnus hirschfeld and the institute of sexology in a bid to get support for legalising homosexuality -- it's free on youtube! also 105 years old, can you believe... 2. played the somnambulist in the cabinet of dr caligari, and generally was every vamp-girls/boys dream back in the day, playing in a lot of the german expressionist films and proto-horror films, and generally not afraid to play offbeat, uncomfortable roles that weren't about being an attractive leading man (eerie tales, the hands of orlac, waxworks, the man who laughs) 3. after he moved to the us, he was very happy to portray nazis to give them realism, and he plays major heinrich strasser in casablanca in 1942 (his second-last film)

i believe he was in a total of 115 films, but quite a few of them between when he started in 1917 and 1930 are lost (der januskopf, i think of you often....murnau, bela lugosi, and conrad veidt, in an adaptation of jekyll and hyde??? arghhh)

other fun facts, did occasionally crossdress and in fact this may have contributed a little to his first divorce, as his wife found him and a bunch of his friends wearing dresses one night after she came back from work -- notably conrad was in her new dress. she told a friend that this was the breaking point, but it may have partially been a joke. they did divorce though

was also at one point called the prettiest girl in berlin in print, good for him

was probably bisexual, although having said that i've actually never read why people think this -- so for now, he was a mensch and a great ally to a lot of people, a little on the queerer side in all things

i do follow a fair few conrad veidt blogs on here, but i don't talk about him often, it's one of those "am a fan, but keeping it mostly to the chest" kind of things with him -- however, as you can tell, very happy to give the Info when asked!

that's the man, the girl, the pretty boy: mr conrad veidt!

[talentforlying]

thinking about john's multitude of short-lived, often quickly-abandoned apartments for some reason, so a couple details:

although you might expect to find a very wizard-y interior to any place he's currently living at — you know, grimoires, skulls, dust, clutter, etc. — his flats actually tend to be fairly spartan in terms of decor; they've even been accused of looking modern, here and there. he just moves too frequently to really settle in & accrue Things, and has so often had to simply up & leave everything he currently owned behind (with very little chance of getting any of it back) that he no longer attaches much meaning to household objects.

besides the consistent presence of at least one bookshelf with at least 12 books on it, and a sad sprig of garden sage that miraculously hasn't died yet, the one exception to his lack of personal touch is his extensive collection of records + tapes, all of which he has repeatedly & methodically tracked down and bought / bid / traded / stolen / threatened for / blackmailed for / simply taken back whenever an enterprising landlord or new tenant left him the opportunity to do so. his record player itself has never needed to be taken back, since it has always mysteriously vanished from whatever flat he's leaving and mysteriously appeared wherever he's staying; it's convenient like that. his 10th anniversary walkman, however, frequently goes missing, only to turn up again later in a place he KNOWS he checked when he's least expecting it.

lack of home decor isn't to say he doesn't own much, mind: the bulk of his personal possessions — assorted occult paraphernalia, blackmail documentation, miscellaneous crap from his mucous membrane days, and anything he is able to take with him from past flats — are usually stored off-site, in a secure location that can't easily be tied back to him. this guy's been accused of being a satanic killer on multiple occasions, he knows better than to keep all the real shit out where anyone can just swan in and see it.

currently, this storage location (which i lovingly call occult shit central) is an abandoned inner london storefront + adjoining flat that was formerly his old friend ray monde's shop and home, called brick-a-brac antiques. it's decidedly cozier than the last place, (in that there are chairs, plural,) and has fewer bear traps laid out in anticipation of unlucky thieves; in fact, if a person were to visit without already knowing where constantine actually lives, it'd be easy to mistake it as his expectedly-wizardy flat. it's not an ideal location for an occult shit central, too close to the heart of the city and too close to people to avoid drumming up suspicion should constantine attempt any sort of ritual inside, but until chas finally quits ducking the paperwork and signs over his storage lot (which he may or may not be dragging his feet on out of pure resentment for having to do it at all) ray's place is the best option there is.

constantine's previous (and future) storage location was a lock-up in streatham that chas had been letting him use (see: all but surrendered to him entirely) since he got out of ravenscar, but after constantine's sister died, john decided he was done with magic and, in a spontaneous fit of rage, burnt the place down with everything but a few necessities still inside. he regretted this later, when he inevitably returned to the occult scene after just over a year away, and spent a lot of time calling in favors / hypnotizing arson inspectors to try and put together an inventory of everything he'd lost.

in the nearly 20 years since the fire, he's managed to replace or find substitutes for about 2/3 of what he had (occult-wise), and gather enough fresh dirt / do enough favors / orchestrate enough compromising situations to accumulate a little over 1/4 of the political / interpersonal power he once maintained. ( the lack of success in the latter being, in part, because people now in power aren't as familiar with his name & reputation as they once were; in part because people just don't believe in magic as much as they used to, or were otherwise bought by hell / heaven / other parties a LONG time ago; and in part because he's come to absolutely fucking despise most politicians / people in power more than he is willing to work with them, or more than he is able to plausibly believe they won't try to drop him at the first opportunity. )

you would be hard-pressed to find a landlady/landlord that speaks kindly of this man. if he wasn't kicked out for suspicious smells / disturbing noises / sudden infestations / suspected satanic activity, then it's likely that he abruptly up and disappeared in the middle of the night, with no warning and no rent. (on a few occasions, this vanishing act also coincided conspicuously with a gruesome death on the premises, sometimes of the landlady/landlord themselves, although no one's ever been able to prove anything.) frankly it's . . . magic, that people still rent to him.

due to these aforementioned bad ends, he's incredibly lucky if he gets enough time or leeway to take any sort of furniture with him from one place to the next. however, there is one incredibly comfy, wing-backed, sapphire-blue armchair that's miraculously managed to survive every move in the last ten or so years without being reported stolen — even though it has survived every move because it has, in fact, been stolen in the dead of night nearly every single time, by john and at least one of his buddies.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for running away from my boyfriend because he's the devil?

Yes, the title is literal. I (29M) have been dating my boyfriend, who we'll call L (1000s, but outwardly 28M), for about 3 months now. I was an ex-cop, and have been grieving the loss of my close friend and work partner, R, in a case that turned horribly wrong and violent about five months ago. L is a priest in the local town church that I've been visiting regularly ever since. (Don't ask.) However, a few weeks afterwards, I found L passed out on the floor, and it turns out that suddenly he's lost his memory. The doctors said he seemed physically fine, so no one really knew how he became amnesiac, but the fact remained: L couldn't remember a single thing about himself.

Over the next few weeks, we started to get closer to each other as I helped him navigate through his amnesia, and we eventually started dating. Despite (or as it will turn out, because of) his memory issues, he seemed quite sweet and understanding, while also being bold and having ambition, and I fell head over heels. This man was so puppydog-coded, guys. You have no idea.

But a few days ago, L regained his memories. There was something attacking him at the time, and immediately after remembering he proceeded to obliterate his attacker in a flash of light.

He tells me afterwards that he's literally the Devil. Like, from the Bible. He tells me he's killed countless people incredibly painfully and tortuously, by making fear-eating monsters to do his bidding and unleashing them in our town to kill even more people. One of those monsters killed R, five months ago-- making my boyfriend indirectly responsible for her death. He knows how I was in a period of intense grief right after her passing, and he knows how I still mourn her every day.

He tells me the man I knew these past few months was all a lie. A front, to deceive people. To deceive me.

He tells me he doesn't regret a single thing.

I don't know if L was lying or trying to scare me away from him or something, but that was all just too much to bear. I turned tail and ran, half-expecting to be burnt to death or to be mauled by one of L's monsters or for L to just kill me somehow, but it didn't happen.

And now I'm conflicted, because how much of the man I fell in love with is left in L? I'm beginning to think that I shouldn't have ran away then, because if L was saying those things to scare me away, it means that he was likely in a state of distress after suddenly regaining his memory. I feel like I should have been there for him then, as a partner, to help him through this. I don't want to lose another person due to my own failures again. But at the same time, if what he was saying is true, I don't think I could ever forgive him for R's death. He killed my closest friend at the time, who was practically my support system.

was it really his fault or mine

I don't know what to do here. I don't know if I should try and find him again. AITA?

[ladymorghul]

Watching all the pro vs anti viserys stuff i think people are mistaking viserys not being an overtly disgusting father to rhaenyra that he could be (he gives her way more freedom that any other highborn would give their daughter, he doesn’t “ground” her or punish her for any wrongs, even completely ignores the fact that [he thinks at least] that rhaenyra is ruined by daemon and any other lord would have sold her off to the first bid or disinherit her like he said, he even arranged a tour so she could pick her own husband and had little to say when she ended the tour early) but that doesn’t make him a good father just not a horrible one.

but that’s only to rhaenyra.

to the greens….oof.

Complete disregard for his maimed son—not alicent’s—his. he can’t even pretend to show concern for his own child that has lost an eye. I know Luke is a Prince but surely there is some what to punish him—confine him to his quarters, hell, even withhold dragon riding, something. but he did nothing. oh, wait, he did interrogate a child that was just attacked, maimed, and hadn’t even washed the blood from his face yet over childish insults that he is absolutely aware are truths.

he’s pretty much a corpse by then (and the show character development for aegon sucks) but viserys could have done something about aegon’s abuse to the service girls. like a good dad, a good king—but no, that’s too much work for his not-rhaenyra-kids.

then there’s zero interactions with heleana.

viserys isn’t an overwhelmingly, cartoon-villainish father.

but he’s definitely not a good father, either.

agreed!!

some notes:

in the book there’s a line where he calls aegon “alicent’s son” and while that doesn’t happen in the show, it’s obvious that’s how he feels about him past the age of 2. it’s instead rhaenyra’s line before anything even happens,. she doesn’t say my brother or half brother she says “alicent hightower’s son”

viserys doesn’t even say ONE word to luke or jace. one. he doesn’t just wave the whole punishment thing, he can’t even bring himself to say one word to the boys for what they do to aemond. idk about anyone else, but that can’t be a good or fai way of handling things. a child lost an eye and not just that, the injury was bad enough to put their life in jeopardy something that show canon seems not to address 

alicent always gets the entirety of the blame for whatever bad deed her kids too. she’s the one who has to bear the preganncy, to care for them, to educate them, to do everything. all of the blame is laid at her feet when she was a teenage mom w loads of trauma that viserys picked himself. like i have never seen someone talk about aegon’s behaviour in terms of what viserys did or didn’t.

[misshallery]

a list of literary references in aitsf: nirvana initiative chapter titles

tidied up this ol' twitter thread. basically: every single chapter title in aini is a reference to a work of literature, i figured out most of them. here's an explanation of where they came from and what they mean. let us begin.

edit: some gaps filled in by the discord user aaabatteries! thank you!

"a strange tale"/"dispossessed"/"alone" (chapter 0) reference 'the turn of the screw' by henry james.

the framing device of this novella is a group of friends reading a manuscript written by someone else. ryuki being interrogated by mizuki is something of a framing device for what we perceive as his 'side' of the story, six years ago. this is also a quintessential piece of gothic fiction, which is famously concerned with the subconscious and repression- two themes aitsf is very interested in!

"anyone imagines"/"ought to know" (ryuki chapter 1) reference the bible verse corinthians 8:2

"If anyone imagines that he knows something, he does not yet know as he ought to know"

naix is an ideology that has the power of religion over its believers. this quotation reflects that people who don't believe in the ideology who think they understand the nature of the world (and believe it's real) are ignorant to the fact it's a simulation.

"nothing to be done"/"go" (ryuki chapter 2) reference 'waiting for godot' by samuel beckett

"nothing to be done" is something of a reoccurring joke in the play. much time is spent watching characters act aimlessly, accomplish little, and lack purpose. these chapters in the game have a lot to do with ryuki feeling frustrated by tokiko's indecipherable philosophical ramblings.

"farewell"/"joy for anguish"/"smile for tears" (ryuki chapter 3) reference 'farewell' by anne bronte.

"And who can tell but Heaven, at last, May answer all my thousand prayers, And bid the future pay the past With joy for anguish, smiles for tears?"

this poem is about the pain of saying goodbye to a loved one. of course, "saying goodbye" is a classic euphemism for death. these titles likely reference shoma reckoning with komeji's death. the joy/anguish duo are strange parallel chapters where komeji lives or dies.

"well known"/"mind of god" (ryuki c4 r1) reference 'a brief history of time' by stephen hawking

"If we do discover a theory of everything…it would be the ultimate triumph of human reason—for then we would truly know the mind of God."

these chapters introduce us to tearer as a character, who is, of course, closely linked to naix and their ideology. naix believe they understood the nature of human existence, and accomplished the goal of knowing 'the mind of god'.

"i found me"/"past its ken" (ryuki c4 r2) reference "the masked face" by thomas hardy

"I found me in a great surging space, I" At either end a door" ... "There once complained a goosequill pen To the scribe of the Infinite Of the words it had to write Because they were past its ken."

this poem is about people with a negative outlook who struggle to comprehend that there is more to the world than they know. shoma only believed in shallow simulation theory to justify his depression. "past its ken" means beyond one's established knowledge.

"not all a dream"/"she was the universe" (ryuki chapter 5 r1) reference "darkness" by lord byron

"I had a dream, which was not all a dream. The bright sun was extinguish'd" ... "Darkness had no need Of aid from them—She was the Universe."

this poem describes an apocalypse that resembles a natural disaster. fitting that this route leads to the explosion ending, involving the collapse of the underground cave. darkness becomes "the universe"- ryuki is traumatised.

"pass mildly away"/"end where i begun" (mizuki c1) reference "a valediction: forbidding mourning" by john donne

"As virtuous men pass mildly away, And whisper to their souls to go" … "Thy firmness makes my circle just, And makes me end where I begun."

this poem is about two lovers parting, but i think the game uses it to reflect platonic relationships. kizuna has lost bibi. bibi lost mizuki. mizuki lost date. family members who love each other deeply have been apart for a long time.

"the expense of spirit"/"hell" (mizuki chapter 3) reference sonnet 129 by william shakespeare.

"The expense of spirit in a waste of shame Is lust in action..."

this poem theorises that after people satisfy their lust (their desires), they're left with shame. this could be a metaphor for chikara's experiments, but he doesn't seem to feel shame. i think it's about mizuki wanting answers about the institute until she gets them and they're painful.

"all living things"/"of arms and of man" (mizuki chapter 4 m2) references virgil's "the aenid".

"I sing of arms and of the man, fated to be an exile, who long since left the land of Troy and came to Italy to the shores of Lavinium"

i think a parallel is drawn between lien and the protag of the aenid, aeneas. he flees the fall of troy and travels to rome, becoming the original descendant of the ancient romans. lien escapes the 'tragedy' of his life of crime and becomes something of a hero to kizuna.

"who's there"/"bid the soldiers shoot" (mizuki chapter 4 m2/m3) reference the first and final lines of william shakespeare's "hamlet".

the first line is spoken by a guard who hears the ghost of hamlet sr. in this route, jin's corpse is found in the freezer... not quite a ghost. the final line is spoken by fortinbras, an invading prince, upon storming the palace and finding the corpses of the whole cast. he commands the shots to commemorate the deaths of the royalty. lien and kizuna escape among the gunfire of chieda's armed goons... some commemoration.

"all that we are" (mizuki c5 m2) is a buddha quote.

“All that we are is the result of what we have thought: it is founded on our thoughts and made up of our thoughts. If a man speak or act with an evil thought, suffering follows him as the wheel follows the hoof of the beast that draws the wagon…. If a man speak or act with a good thought, happiness follows him like a shadow that never leaves him.”

this chapter precedes gen and amame's end. gen highlights that he considers amame to be a naturally kind and loving person in a way that others haven't been towards him. this quotation implies that good things follow kind people, which doesn't follow considering the tragic end amame gets here.

"sweet silent thought" (mizuki chapter 5 m3) references shakespeare's sonnet 30

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste

this poem is about regrets. when you think "sweet silent thoughts" (contemplate your life), you feel unhappy and consumed by what-ifs. interesting that this chapter is the direct opposite of the poem- lien and kizuna take their chance and run away together. no regrets!

"births"/"the end of craving" (mizuki c5 m1) is a buddha quote once more.

simply put, to reach the end of craving is to achieve the titular nirvana and a higher state of being.

"braver than all flowers" (epilogue) references "proof of immortality "by william carlos williams

"for there is one thing braver than all flowers; richer than clear gems; wider than the sky"

this is a sort of humorous poem about how the one thing that humans throughout history have in common is ignorance. maybe it's a ref to how the mizukis used their wit and investigation skills to overcome that ignorance and win the day?

"all this happened, more or less" (ryuki diverge) references the opening line of slaughterhouse-five by kurt vonnegut.

this is regarded as a crazy opening line for a crazy novel. it's the literary equivalent of "well, that happened" for better or worse, much like this ending.

the only currently missing reference is 'traveler'/'left behind'.

[nadjasworkshop]

Introducing my Builder:

BIRTHDAY:

14th of Autumn

HEIGHT:

164 cm

WEIGHT:

68 kg

AGE (ARRIVAL AT SANDROCK):

29 years old

LIKES:

Art & Literature, dark humor, cats

DISLIKES:

Noisy crowds, bullies, greed

BACKGROUND:

Nadja spent most of her twenties studying Humanities while working part-time as an assistant for several teachers and librarians. She eventually grew tired of her stale environment and decided to turn her natural talent for fixing gadgets from a lost hobby to a profession. Nadja graduated surprisingly ahead of time, landing her first job in an environment she deemed less competitive than Highwind, and more fitting for her temperament.

PERSONALITY:

Nadja was a bookish, sensitive child and often felt more at ease around teachers than she did around other kids. She still struggles to connect with other people, but keeps very strong bonds with her small group of friends.

Often dismissed as aloof and unreachable, those who ever managed to get past her shell would describe her as extremely loyal, with an imaginative mind and a very vulnerable core that she tries hard to never show in public.

While wisdom and integrity are the real keys to her heart, people with a dry sense of humor and an ability for keeping their cool are the easiest get on her good side.

RANDOM FACTS:

Shares the birthday with Yan. This was completely accidental on my part, but makes for a lot of funny occurences (not for her).

One of the most obvious signs of her toughening up since her arrival in Sandrock is the way she learn to handle guns in self defence. The first time she entered a hazardous ruin, she was so scared of shooting a geegler that Justice had to cover for her and promise he wouldn't make fun of the situation. In time, she was able to pull the trigger without a flinch. The Duvos invasion and the events that allowed it were quite the turning point.

She enjoys all sorts of arts, from drawing to playing the flute, but can't imagine making a life of them. It was one of the reasons she wasn't able to make the best of her time as a student.

Usually perceived as serious and even gloomy, she tends to catch people off their guards with unexpected quips. One of the many things she admires from Grace is her sense of humor.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Nadja had a really hard time getting used to Sandrock. For several months the taste of Highwind Fried Rice was enough to bring a tear to her eye. However, getting directly involved in the protection and recovery of the town turned her into a true Sandrocker in the end, and after two years she couldn't think living anywhere else.

Nia's parents and hers have been living next door for decades. In fact, Nadja was 6 when Nia was born and used to pretend she was her babysitter. They remain close despite being so different from each other, in a sisterly "goth & prep" kind of way more than as friends.

After a long rollercoaster of a story and a year without seeing each other she and Miguel started as a couple not long before the end of his imprisonment.

In the beginning they used to have a strange dynamic where they had fun antagonizing each other all the time and spent hours discussing philosophy (while mostly everyone wondered what the hell were these two nutcases always arguing about). As they got closer, they started getting in the way of each other's purposes. There was a brief intimate moment after Nadja came back from Logan's hideout and was presumed dead but both regretted instantly. Then the Incident happened. Obviously she didn't take it well, being someone whose trust is not easy to earn. It took a lot of time, a Duvos invasion and a long collective healing process in parallel to Sandrock's own healing for her to start to see past the bad blood. Once the "greenification" was complete, she found herself more and more often visiting her long lost antagonizer in prison and bringing him books once she finished reading them. It was mostly the difference between the person she once bid farewell with a cold "Matilda has betrayed you" and the one who was talking to her from behind the bars that sparked a renewed, less troubled feeling in her, one that would not fade away.

Other than that she finds easy to be around quiet people with a lot going on in their heads, hence she considers Fang his best friend. In the early days when she still had trouble socializing with the townsfolk, Unsuur and Heidi were the ones who found it easier to approach her. With the former, it was because they quickly understood each other's "weirdness". with the latter, out of common interests and encouraging each other's work from similar fields.

On the other hand she really doesn't like Pen. It's like if someone tailored a person entirely for her distaste, that was him. She can't stand Yan either but that could be said about everyone in town.

She adopted two cats and a half (Macchiato, Banjo and CoCo) and would have adopted many more given the chance.

[persnicketypomelo]

hi! i know you write for phantom of the opera but would you write for the 1943 movie? if you have seen in/are willing to write for it, would you mind if i requested some hcs? if not, that’s totally fine, i just thought i’d ask lol

have a good day! :)

Sure thing! It seems a little tacky and funny in a distinctly 1940s way lol. It's the funniest thing...and definitely a product of its time. When I was doing research for this ask, I was watching some scenes and quotes, and one of the characters literally said "give me a lift, would ya?". That made me laugh a bit.

Also I'm relying on plot summaries and YouTube clips, so I'll try my best, but it may not be entirely accurate.

spoilers, murder, obsession

1943 Yandere Phantom of the Opera Headcanons

Erique Claudin is an older experienced man with years of violin experience in the Paris Opera House

In spite of being a man past his prime years, he develops a growing attraction with you, a new singer, youthful with a glimmering innocence in your eyes

He is a romantic, and a man blinded by the whims of his heart

It doesn't take long before he falls head over heels with you, and once he hears the clarity of your signing voice, he dives headfirst into infatuation

At first he is restrained in his courting--offering to pay for your vocal lessons, lending an ear to your problems, devising plans to advance your talent and career in his personal time

However, after noticing the overt interest of your colleagues in you, he feels the need to be more aggressive and forthcoming in his wooing

It doesn't help either, that money troubles lead him down a path that will forever change him...

After an altercation with a publisher and his assistant, he flees with a burning face and guilty of murder

This is the tipping point that ultimately catapults Erique into obsession

Wanted, scarred, and jealous, he skulks the Paris sewers

He has lost everything: his music, his job, his love in one bad day, and he is determined to get revenge on those who wronged him

Now, you're the only light left in his life, and he will devote everything to you

With only his own thoughts to keep him company, his mind becomes twisted--his delusions becoming his reality

His intense desire for a romance with you leads him to believe that you must also love him in return

In fact, you must also want to spend your life with him, dedicating your voice and heart only to him for eternity

Erique is broken, and only finds solace in his fantasies...the only way he can function is by believing his thoughts of your mutual attraction

Slowly, he devises a plan to enact his personal revenge, and also save you from the vile people around you

He sneaks to the rafters of the opera house, murdering anyone that stands in his way, and hacks off the chandelier in the middle of a performance

Amidst the chaos the shattered chandelier causes, he kidnaps you, and with an iron grip, drags you underground to his makeshift home

If you struggle or protest against being kidnapped, he will only insist that your sweet and innocent mind has been poisoned by the filth around you--that your coworkers have turned you against him

Erique will force you to comply with his fantasy of you...and if you fight too much against his bidding, he will lash out in rage and tighten the chains on your freedom

Therefore, until you can find a means of escape, perhaps it's better to live out his scenario of house for your own safety

After all, he is a man whose mind is so distorted by his own imagination, that he can no longer distinguish between his desires and reality

He lost everything, and as such, he will do anything to maintain even a phantasm of a fairytale ending with you