#which is honestly really clever! but also i fucking hate it. i hate it when games are hard 😠

[lonepower]

hhhhuh. are they- doing this on purpose???

[jolieblack]

Jolie's thoughts on

The Retired Colourman (Sherlock & Co. podcast)

This case, in ACD's original version, is the opposite of a favourite of mine. It's somewhat pedestrian, doesn’t have particularly memorable characters, doesn’t have particularly memorable deductions, and the only memorable dialogue or interaction is Holmes famously enumerating all the ways Watson should have used his charm to get the local ladies hot and bothered. Oh boy, that just changed a lot!

Lilian Barker - In ACD canon, Barker is Sherlock Holmes's "friend and rival", the other gifted and clever private investigator that just randomly pops up out of nowhere, never mentioned before and never mentioned again after… Weird, just weird. I prefer this Barker who finally gets a personality and a narrative function (other than being a painfully transparent red herring)!

Loved Sherlock going ballistic when she turns out not to have called the police, though. And how he keeps hating her even when she provides some useful evidence. (Thank you for not letting her actually solve the case though. I was worried there for a moment.)

Another plus: The deduction that the bad guy has a prosthetic leg goes absolutely nowhere in ACD canon but suddenly it becomes an important point!

Interesting dynamic between Sherlock and Inspector MacKinnon, too. Either Sherlock has realised that the police are not always idiots or MacKinnon is a very special person, in which case I want to know more about him and how he knows and why he trusts Sherlock. And how he managed to sell Sherlock & Co. to his superiors as a "third party investigation unit"!

Details I liked:

Did it take anyone else an age to realise that Amber Lee = Amberley? I‘m so slow.

John nattering away about low emission zones for a reason.

"The plot is thickening like a thick, evil… soup."

The chess metaphors! In ACD, the chess aspect just goes nowhere, except to serve as an explanation why the miserly, unsociable bad guy sometimes has a visitor at all. Great use of it here!

Sherlock "strangling" Mr Lee when he makes fun of John's injury, and then it turns out a pretty nifty move to secure evidence. (Or was it? Interesting question, hen or egg? I guess we'll be in sweet unknowing agony about this forever.)

Mariana = Mari? Sweet but uncomfortable at the same time, for obvious reasons.

I do love the confirmation that Mariana co-owns the business and is not just an employee, though.

"Don’t say juices, it’s a family show." - "You just said fuck."

John taking his frustrations out on the wall with a sledgehammer.

And then oh boy again for how dark this whole case is. Even Sherlock actually being really considerate and protecting Mariana from trauma took a pretty creepy form. Honestly, the way he said, "Follow the thought. Don‘t run away from it. It’s natural to be scared when you know what you'll find at the end of it.", I honestly expected for a moment that he was talking her into looking at the bodies, just from the tone.

I also can’t help feeling that that moment in the attic would have belonged to John, not to Mariana. I mean, yeah, she did deserve to reap the fruit of her earlier clever deductions about the water pipe system, and Watson is absent from the final resolution in ACD’s story, too… But I‘m not sure I can ever get over the fact that John did not hear Sherlock say "check mate" in that voice.

Reality check: The police are incompetent if they missed both the walled-off extension/basement and the walled-off part of the attic after a week of searching, and if they even considered taking the bad guy to court without having done that first.

Also reality check: Like with The Cardboard Box, straight up cruel and unimaginative domestic murder hits too close to home for me to be ideal entertainment, but then Joel Emory absolutely gets points for realism. What Sherlock and Mariana find at the end of the case - two human bodies having decomposed in water for a week - is straight out of ACD canon. The podcast version just calls the horror by its name, instead of elegantly glossing over it, and gets kudos from me for that.

Check out this amazing art for the episode by @abstractfrog (Sherlock and Mariana), and @subtlehysteria 's fantastic John with a sledge hammer!

[gureshinlover]

Ok Saeran AE good ending dump, here are some random thoughts

The president plot was ended really underwhelmingly, but I'm glad that although Saeran chose to forgive him, the writers are aware this isn't something anyone can do and let saeyoung continue hating him. Honestly, forgiving or not forgiving him aside, I just didn't like the way they made the president go 'ah.. you're right maybe I am a lonely bad guy' LIKE NO WAY THAT ASSHOLE CARES ABOUT THAT, I couldn't take any dialogues seriously

First of all. Why the fuck is jumin han a politician all of a sudden 😭 And like, forget being a politician, he is a candidate for presidency??????? Am I reading it right?? How exactly..???

Anyway I FORGOT ABOUT YOOSUNG AT PATISSIER AWWWW It's so nice to see him find himself even if this is saeran's route! You're doing so good love <3 I was gonna say it doesn't make sense that they made him chase his patissier dream when in his own route he thinks about why he wants to become a vet and decides to go that way, but I realized, since another story is 2 years before the casual one I guess he felt more free about leaving his medical studies 😭 he was able to change his path more easily because he just started school, and also he doesn't have a lover like mc in korea unlike his route so that might also affect his choices. But I think he's happy in either ending so I'm glad <33

They did well with Yoosung but. why didn't Jaehee get the same treatment. I don't get it. They were clever enough to remember other characters' goals and worries and made them happy in this AE, except for Jaehee. I wish they made her leave her position too, since Jumin Han is now involved with politics it could be the perfect excuse for Jaehee to stop being his assistant. I'm guessing that this is also because AS is 2 years earlier, which means Jaehee hasn't suffered in her job enough to leave yet, and she probably doesn't have the money to open a coffee shop anyway (she isn't even into coffee professionally yet although she said she was interested a bit) But idk I wish they left us a clue that Jaehee will also get to find her happiness in the future 😭😭

Another thing I'm confused about is that where the hell does saeran get money from 😭😭 how are we 'lovey dovey at some place romantic'😭 Saeyoung probably has more than enough money so he might have forced Saeran to have it all lol that's the only explanation I can think of. In the alternate ending Saeran has a greenhouse (considering that he said himself to be careful of people raising herbs in the wild I find this funny but well ofc it's the dream job for saeran) but I'm not sure what we're supposed to be doing in this ending lol

Like, apparently we're hippies now?? Feel love and peace~~

Saeran AE has its problems, but I still love it anyway and I'm not sure how they would be able to make a good ending differently, so I'll just take the good stuff and leave out the bad writing lol I remember going crazy about new illusts in 2020,,, can't believe it's been 3 years already. Happy new years btw I guess? 🌱 Idk how to end this post

[bluarlequinno]

FNAF MOVIE OPINION (after like 5 months Ik)

I'm back on my FNAF bullshit, but I always come back to FNAF eventually (pun intended or maybe not, take it as you want)

I know a lot of the fandom liked the movie, but honestly I hate to lie to myself and pretend like the movie was any good, look it's FNAF, I didn't expect it to be good, because it's really hard to adapt something so bizarre and mostly build off of collective delusional and derangement creative mashups, BUT, I still felt that it could have done so much better and I wanna talk about some of my opinions, of course as always it's an opinion and it tends to be subjective so yk, don't take it as an attack if you as a FNAF fan liked the movie

I kinda came around as to why I hated how they handled the animatronics in the movie lately, yeah they were great like visually wise, but how they handled them narratively and within the horror factor was... Extremely disappointing in my opinion, and now I kinda see why, at least in my humble perspective.

I think, a big part of why they give up such uncanny unsettling eerie vibes in the FNAF games (at least the ogs) it's because of the fact WE NEVER SEE THEM MOVE, we are just told and vaguely hinted at the idea that they might be alive, that things have happened, and they have done something, news, past events, etc, with out that it falls flat, in the games, we are left totally clueless unsure if they are or not moving, or if we are the ones going delusional, if the murders are related, the knowledge that corpses are inside or at least the suspicion of, etc.

The movie on the other hand, is too bright in my opinion, colors feel off, like it doesn't give that, dirty, inhuman, unclean, old and clearly malnourished pizzeria, it doesn't make you feel like you are gonna be sick just by being near those greasy old dirty and dry blood stained and who knows what else animatronics, it also shows us the animatronics actually move like some sort of cyborg, changing essentially where the terror of FNAF even comes from, the whole point is that you didn't actually see them move until they are up on your face jumpscaring you, it's kinda the point, and if you do see them move, it's barely crumps of like subtle hand movements or eye twitching or smt that is not that cyborg..y, like the point is that the kids are in those suits and therefore are trying to move them how they can, so when in the movie you actually see them move on the brightness of day in bright color and daytime it feels ... Just really fucking lame and boring, they just feel like your typical scary robots.

The scary factor wasn't them being murder robots, it was that those childlike machines had weird smells and where strangely uncanny and barely moved but somehow managed to make you feel like there was something there, that in the end there were corpses (who mind you were mentioned in the movie but like never seen and kinda forgotten about??? Like hello?)

So if they do make a second movie PLEASE have a clever use of color, ambient building, and DON'T SHOW THEM MOVING, let the protagonist (or player) question their sanity, are they really alive? Or are we just being paranoid, focus more on the smell the robots have, the stains, the texture, the weird unsettling feeling, make the pizzeria darker, dirtier, grayer, older (or well depends a lot on the plot and pizzeria and timeline they will handle).

I have a lot more of criticism on the movie, but I felt this needed to be said because the animatronics are the most essential characteristic of well FNAF, and in my opinion how they were handled was really bad, they didn't scare a bit, they made me feel so much like embarrassment I swear, it felt like a YouTube sketch, which has way more effort honestly.

I think another error was not treating the characters like animatronics, I understand not sticking into the original designs would maybe dislike most fans, but honestly? If it were up to me I would have stylized original like in real life 80s animatronics to have the designs of chica, Bonnie, foxy and Freddy yk? Because they are treating them more like robots than animatronics and like NO, the point is that they are animatronics, stop trying to lean into cyborg sci-fi future FNAF if you're adapting og fnaf lean into the terror of uncanny, guts and blood smelling rotten dirty old machines of a what was supposed to be a normal family pizzeria.

Believe me, playing with smell can really really make things scary, the animatronics shouldn't seem alive or emotionally conscious, they in our perspective animalistic creatures with no mind, that may not be moving at all, but somehow you feel they are following you with their eyes (even if in the case of golden Freddy they have none) make them seem more malnourished, maybe there is broken wiring that let's us see a lot of dry brown stains that give off a dirty rotten smell, they always seem greasy and smell like pizza, greasy and extremely rotten pizza.

Also the fact the souls of the kids appear is cliche and dumb, like we never meet them, the robots are not the kid souls anymore, they are the animalistic revenge desire of their souls, they are no longer human, it would have made the terror and the tension work better if the souls weren't so at your face like kids idk how to word this, but dehumanize their designs, LEAN INTO THE UNCANNY, god i know that making an indie horror game that is more of the collective than of the creator into a somewhat mainstream "Hollywood eske" movie would turn out so shitty, because it lost all the passion and beauty of uncertainty, the not knowing, the significant art and interpretations, they couldn't even give us the characters we love, they just showed us some weird reboot of mike and crying child and whoever abby is supposed to be. Why is Vanessa there I'm so serious, ok this is totally personal, but I hate that they just replace original characters just no.

Imma be honest I don't have the patience right now to word every single thing I think the movie got wrong, but at this point what FNAF is and why we as a fandom love it so much, it's because of the content we as a community create, we make FNAF enjoyable, and idgaf, but scott is not the reason i love fnaf, and it will never be, like that man wants to do a horror story but treats it childishly and cant decide if he wants his audience to be children (for some reason) or +16 and older so it turns out wanky, childish and even dumbs down the audience, how can you have thia sorry still be aimed at children, but feature extreme acts of violence against children like tf, there is canon child abuse, there is gore and child murder, there is so many things that are not for children, but are handled like so badly that it comes off as if a child wrote it, and of course dumbs it down to the point we get to where we are now with the current FNAF, child aimed fully, Scott can't even decide his own lore and the fandom does half the work or all the work

Anyways point is, let the author ruin his own work and give the people creative freedom

[by-ethan-fox]

So I saw Gundam Seed FREEDOM...

... and honestly it defies analysis.

I will avoid spoilers for major plot elements in this write-up.

I'm a huge Gundam fan. This shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone who has followed my work for a long time, as I frequently bring it up, even in entirely inapplicable situations.

But even though I've been a fan since the late 90s, I'd never had a chance to see any of it in the cinema - so when AllTheAnime organised a special short run of the movie for UK theatres, I jumped at the chance.

What I saw surprised me.

To clarify, I'm not one of those Gundam fans who hates SEED. Sure, I love the UC, but I'm not gonna lie, Wing was my genesis within the fandom so I'm as likely to watch G-Gundam as 08th MS Team, though I do lean towards the grittier side of the franchise, with War in the Pocket being my favourite entry.

But most relevant to this is that while I enjoyed SEED, I've always been critical of Destiny for some really bizarre plotting that, frankly, kinda left the CE timeline in a mess. Like many fans, with the show having been off the air for nearly two decades, I gave up on the idea the movie might exist literally years ago.

With all that out of the way...

The movie does exist. Finally. And is it good? Bad?

The weird thing is I don't know what to say, and that's weird for a writer.

It's awesome. It's terrible. It's goofy. It's clever. It's idiotic. It's bizarre.

But it's over 2 hours long and, honestly, I was never bored, which I guess is a success?

Perhaps most surprisingly, the movie expends ZERO ENERGY on helping you if you haven't seen the near-100-episodes of CE anime which came before this. Like, if you haven't seen SEED and or Destiny, you are just utterly fucked. The show wheels characters and plot-beats from the prior material in-and-out in a manner I could best call aggressive. I last watched Destiny about ~7 years ago, and I'm a self-admitted Gundam nerd; but even I had to look up a few things on my phone afterwards.

Then, fan-service. Of both kinds. All sorts of things get pulled out of cold storage for the movie... But it works. Though that also stands as a testament to how this is, in the truest sense, a 2004 anime throwback. I actually heard some people in the cinema groaning at some of the Gainax Bouncing going on; but then given the jiggly silhouette in EVERY OPENING TO SEED, frankly it would've been stranger if it had been absent.

I think the movie has loads of problems. Even by CE standards, some of the storytelling was really goofy and dare-I-say-it, "cringe". It recycles probably too much and certainly doesn't stand on its own as a piece of media (though that's not so much a failing as a clear, conscious choice).

Also... It has that "anime movie" thing where the plot feels a bit filler. The first time you have this new guy on the scene with shock-white hair, being all edgelord as he talks about war and destiny and fencing or some other weird metaphor you kinda see the entire movie unfurl before you. If you're a longtime anime fan this isn't so much your first rodeo as your daily commute.

From there, the story takes numerous predictable turns, dips liberally into melodrama, sets up some great Mobile Suit fights, with relatively few surprises (note, however, I'm not saying "no surprises", as there are some, and also, I'm not suggesting it's tedious).

And yet...

It's fun.

It's really, really fun.

That's the crux of all this. That's what really matters. And honestly, when that new theme comes out of the speakers, sounding in perfect key with the types of music that ran through SEED's run, and Kira's onscreen, and he's locking onto a dozen targets and beams are spamming everywhere and everything's exploding in that weird pink way that things in SEED explode...

Have you ever tried to play a videogame from the 90s that you haven't played in years? And do you know how touch-and-go that is?

Gundam Seed FREEDOM is, if I'm to compare it to anything, like that.

But thankfully, it's one of the times when your memories might have been optimistic, but they're not wrong. That game may be a bit crude, a bit rough around the edges, and have more boob and ass jiggle than you recall... But it's good. So good that you find yourself sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of your console, grinning like an absolute loon, until it's 2am and you can no longer feel your feet.

If you have fond memories of the SEED era of the Gundam franchise, don't miss it.

[greenninjagal-blog]

Deja Vu pt 11

Alright! Let’s do this!

If you’re new around here you can find the first chapter [here] or if you just want a refresher you can find the previous chapter [here!]

Summary: Like most plans Remus and Janus’s have, this one starts off really great!

Word Count: 13351

Read on Ao3 || Hero Worship Series || My General Writing Masterlist

“I fucking hate you,” Virgil snarls under his breath, as Remus (lightly) shoves him in the direction he needs to walk. He’d given up kicking and screaming about seven blocks and ten subway stops ago, after Remus had (not lightly) acquainted a concerned citizen who had stopped them with his fist, but Remus thinks he might have still been (very not lightly) biting out of sheer spite , if it weren’t for the cute little face mask Remus shoved on his face before manhandling the reporter out of his own apartment. 

“You and Janus can rot in fucking hell together, assholes!”

“I love when you talk dirty to me, honey,” Remus says to him, grinning with all his teeth on display, sharp and pointed and freshly brushed with Virgil’s own shitty Aquafresh toothpaste that tasted like every type of bad mint flavor put together as a brilliant new torture method. “Now keep quiet and be more scared.”

“I should have just fucking killed you, you motherfucking, insane— ”

Remus pinches him sharply in the side as a warning and his clever and completely accurate description yelps off into some even more creative swears.

Honestly, Remus would have loved to hear the rest of Virgil’s thoughts about him. It had been interesting to watch Virgil lose every ounce of his respect for Remus as Janus had started laying out the details of his plan; Interesting in the same way Remus thinks that watching someone perform an autopsy on his still-living body might be interesting, in the way that being buried alive in wet cement might be interesting, in the way that naming each piranha that takes a bite out of his limbs migh13t be interesting. 

As far as plans that Janus had, this was shaping up to be one of Remus’s favorites already. The details were tedious and extensive, much more than Janus’s plans usually were, although with the way that Janus kept glancing at Remus throughout it Remus could understand why he was going so overboard with their timeline and plannings. The usual safety net they operated with (aka Remus’s fucked up power) was showing to have some decently large holes in it and those weren’t just put there with Roman’s shitty Probability scam. 

Virgil’s face had gone from pale to deathly pale to walking corpse pale in the matter of minutes.

Apparently not only watching Remus nod along to Fun Ideas, but also listening to Remus contribute to what is Absolutely the Best Idea They Have Ever Had was where Virgil had drawn his line in the sand and refused to cross it. But that was okay.

Virgil’s role did not exactly include him needing to be cooperative with it. Which Janus had planned for. Because he was amazing and Remus was in love.

And while part of Remus (the same part that still loved Roman for no reason, the same part that urged him to call his mother no matter how much it would hurt, the same part that was very clearly sadistic and wanted him dead in the slowest most painful ways) was rejoicing at things going back to normal, the vast majority of his psyche that wasn’t already busy swooning over how normal Janus had looked waking up in the bed next to Remus, was mourning the loss of that good happy ending for him, Janus, and Virgil that had almost seemed possible for a whole, entire second.

Remus kinda hates himself for thinking it could have been a thing, for scanning through Janus’s face to wonder if he also felt like they had taken all the wrong turns and missed the exit to that future where Virgil stays with them, chooses them, believes that together they have something that’s worth all the scary parts for.

“Remus— Remus wait— please you don’t have to do this— ” Virgil starts again, barely more than a murmur over the crowd that is around the target building. He digs his heels into the ground, but Remus just drags him along, elbowing their way through the thickets of people that apparently have nowhere else better to be and nothing better to do than gawk. The cameras are flashing, reporters from all the local news stations and a few national ones talking over each other, poster wavers protesting and applauding just about everything that can be protested and applauded, and despite it all, no one stops Remus or Virgil.

No one even looks at them twice.

“Listen to me, dickhead! There’s still time to turn back and tell Janus he can— ”

Remus’s skin feels like it might be radioactive, like he’s glowing, burning, bristling and boiling all at once and there’s not a single person who knows it. The last time he was in a crowd, it nearly killed him without anyone ever knowing what sort of things he could do, what sort of liar Roman could be, what sort of tragedy had bleed from their veins onto a car hood at 3AM.

The noise vibrates through his soul, into his bones, into his blood and it prickles the back of his neck in the way that a baby bird might get right before it’s sucked into the jet engine turbine of an economy class passenger plane.

He grips Virgil’s shoulder tightly, like a tether, pushing him along so that if Remus gets swallowed, Virgil will be right there with him. For better or worse or Death. 

“Oh my god!” Someone right next to them says, her camera inches from Remus’s face, sparkly nails glittering in the rare sun, right as he gets near the front of the line— because there’s a fucking line, jeez—  elbowing at least six people who didn’t have the brains to not be outside right now. “You’re that guy! Oh my god, you’re— !”

Last time he was in a crowd, they didn’t know who Remus was. This time the crowd is going to learn how to mind their fucking manners.

“Hey Roman!” Remus yells, dragging Virgil right in front of himself. “KNOCK KNOCK, MOTHER FUCKER!”

He gets maybe a second to see Roman’s face, the way his eyes jerk up on instinct at the sound of his name, the way that his mask hides most of his expression but not enough because he sees Remus and his mouth open in a rounded ‘o’ shape and his hand shifts to his rapier handle and, and, and. 

And then Remus is shoving his boot into Virgil’s back and kicking his hostage directly in Roman, and sending them both through the propped open doors of the grand, sparkling Public Library that the FBE had commandeered.

“This party looks boring,” Remus says loud and clear and maybe a little too excited for the flashing cameras and the screaming fans and the fight as he stands at the top of the flight of  old granite stairs. “Don’t worry, I brought some toys to spice it up!”

The news reporters surge like a tidal wave, the citizens stir up in the whirlpool of noise and signs. The police were already on site, keeping the nice little barrier between the building and the crowd so that brave souls could walk up to greet their grand hero, but the police saw Remus go toe-to-toe with Roman and everyone remembers that it ended with Remus holding a gun to Roman’s begging face.

The fear that wafts off them tastes like tear gas and his own burnt flesh. 

Behind him, further in the building was already a commotion as Virgil hit the ground limbs tangled in Roman’s, scrambling away the best he can when his arms are tied behind his back with a truly insulting amount of duct tape—Janus had found it in one of the drawers in Virgil’s kitchen while Remus had held him down with a great deal more delight than he should have had. The tumble probably left him with spotted bruises, maybe a sprained wrist, but it doesn’t matter much because the farther back he tosses himself with reckless abandon leaves him crashing into Zeal as well.

Patton Hart. The name sounds made up, bizarre and foreign in the way that Remus can’t explain so matter how long he spends staring at the high school picture online. He looks like someone, and also like no one; a combination of every friend that had chosen Roman over Remus and somehow that makes Remus feel absolutely nothing at all.

Patton melds out of the bookshelves and crowd like some concerned civilian and not someone who would commit war crimes if he was told not to think too much about it. Virgil lands almost completely in Patton’s arms, throwing all his weight into him, because he figured out about twelve hours ago that Remus is far more insane than the heathen who wears socks with sandals and shoots down innocent people during a riot.

Roman barely manages to roll back to his feet before Remus is strolling towards him grinning in a way that makes the handful of privately hired guards that were “helping” provide security to such a high profile location train their guns on him. They’re stationed strategically around the building, in more places than Janus had predicted: four along the back wall flagging the large stained glass windows, three at the check-in counters with the “doctors” two on either side of the main doors and another two on the mezzanine level above. It’s enough to make people think twice about causing trouble. There were probably more in the conference rooms where the actual testing was going on but those weren’t Remus’s concern.

They would have...other problems soon if they weren’t already facing them now.

Just like Janus said, none of these hired guards would dare start the fight themselves; not without Roman acting first, not without certainty that Remus would go down without a problem. 

And considering how the last fight almost ended (back before Remus had even a theory of what Roman’s power was), if Remus had been in their boots he’d be scared too. He’d be terrified of what a monster a Sibyl could be, what types of things they could know about him, what types of futures they’d woven out of existence. The fear would clot in his arteries until he was unable to so much as twitch his finger to pull the trigger.

“HELP! SOMEONE, HELP!” Virgil screams, hints of his sonic power turning the air to static around them. “HE’S GOT A BOMB!”

Oh, yeah. And there’s that too.

((Remus is twenty one. He’s seen people shriek over thousands of dollars worth of casino coins spilling across a playing table, seen people scream over a flambeed corpse exploding out of a jewelry shop without warning, seen people screech over a body falling from a balcony onto a car windshield at 3AM, seen people panic in a riot started on a stage by a careless superhero; and still somehow the pitch of the yelling and chaos nearly catches him off guard, reaching a crescendo that even violins in a classical symphony in a stolen car in a future that Remus didn’t choose failed to top.))

Roman stutters in his steps, unsure and doubtful and Remus shimmies his hands into the air, clearly showing off the one empty hand and the other very much full hand, spreading his jacket open so that everyone can see the vest he put together late last night, between pressing kisses into Janus’s mouth just because he could.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he says loudly and proudly and completely unhinged in every way that everyone who ever knew him had expected him to turn out. His hands aren’t shaking but he thinks they should be absolutely quivering with the urge to ruin the surprise before anyone’s properly had time to be scared, before Roman’s had a chance to dig his own grave, before Remus has been able regret not kissing Janus one more time. 

There’s a guard to his left, finger on the trigger, mouth in a firm line think, think, thinking. 

Remus beams. “You aren’t going to like what happens if you take that shot. Even in your best dreams, Princey boy can only maybe save a few of you and even then the building is firewood. That’s the problem with old places like this.”

He can’t see their eyes from under their visors— these faceless, emotionless people who could be anyone and anything from Remus’s own mother to Kyle from that casino who never found out that Remus’s bites when he kisses— but the stiff lines of their mouths make it clear they at least aren’t as trigger happy as the police were during the riot. The emblem on their shoulders is strange and threatening and very much not a good sign according to Janus: the white lotus flower looks very out of place on the deep navy blue padding and creates an interesting dichotomy to their violent, deadly weapons. Remus stares them down with his best smile. 

“But hey, I mean a 60:40 split ain’t bad!” he says. “There’s what, twenty people in here? That means about 12 people get out and the rest of us get to have an explosive end to all our days! A real bang! But of all the ways to go, I can tell you being blown up is pretty lame. Personal experience talking here: it’s over far too quickly for anyone to properly scream about it!”

“REMUS!” 

There was a time when Remus was six-seven-eight years old and the sound of Roman yelling his name meant that it was going to be a good day. There was a time when Remus was nine-ten-eleven and believed Roman called his name from love, that it was them against the world, that when Remus had nothing he would still have the brother he refused to let leave him behind. There was a time when Remus was seventeen years old and Remus would have given anything for Roman to say his name the way he used to and all he got was “I don’t need you!”

This is none of those times and Remus feels the ache of the years apart like a physical pressure in the air. Roman is there— Remus’s neck cracks when he turns his head to look at his twin— looking just the same as he was a few days ago: like a cartoon character pulled into the real world with only one obnoxiously white outfit that makes him memorable and wounds that don’t stick past a few audience laughs. Topped with a red mask, red boots, red sash— red like the blood in both their veins that doesn’t have a single difference because they both have superpowers and Remus never should have been treated differently and Why is it so hard to just believe me for once?

There’s no hints of the wounds that Remus left on him: no bandages on his forehead from the gash that had bled over his eyes, no bruising from Remus’s shoe going into his cheek, no scratch marks or scuffs on his clothes to suggest that they had ever been in a fight. Almost as if Roman would tell him that the fight a million cameras caught and streamed nationwide had never happened at all and Remus was just sick.

“And if it isn’t the man of the hour!” Remus calls with enough bite that the room seems to chill. “Hiya, Ro! Can I just say, congratulations on day three of trending on Twitter! The number two spot isn’t bad; although you aren’t used to being number two, are you? I know I’m not used to being number one!”

“Are you insane?!” Roman snaps out. His hair is gelled today, although his quick tumble knocked a bit of it out of place, so he looks like Baby’s First Prom Night With A Girl Who Asked Him Out As A Joke That He Still Thinks Is Genuine. The white of his outfit is offensive on all levels, the red accents just enough of a shade off from blood red that Remus wants to fix it for him by actually making him bleed! The golden tip of his rapier is out and ready for a fight but even with the long range, Remus is hilariously out of reach.

Maybe if Remus had come in with a gun, with a sword, with a knife or a smoke grenade it would have been a good fight, a good chance to bash his head in again and figure out if he would feel bad about Roman dying after all.

But that’s the beauty of how Janus’s mind works isn’t it? He almost laughs. 

“Didn’t we already cover this conversation, Roman?” He asks, grandly. “Come on, it's like you don’t know me at all!”

He sweeps his hands in the air, watching the way that Roman’s eyes track the remote in his hand with a focus and intensity that borders on panic. The ridiculous mask on his face might be enough to keep the public in the dark about his inner thoughts, but Remus could read Roman like a picture book: creased lips hiding the way he’s nearly biting his tongue to remind himself to keep a calm face, wrinkle between his eyes that point to him running through all the different way that he might be able to save the day heroically, a twitch of his hands that imply he’s still not very good at following directions.

At the very least Patton is keeping an eye on the crowd (twenty, Remus thinks, all with various powers or weapons and all nervous and unsure about how this is about to go and who are about to be tested in ways they have never been prepared for) that they have trapped in the building, keeping them calm with low toned orders of back up! and we’ll handle this! We’re professionals! Virgil seems all too happy to have someone else handle things: even with his hands still bound he has no problem melding back with the other hostages, still struggling at the duct tape, out of sight and out of mind. Roman doesn’t even flick his eyes over to check on any of them, as if he could magically make Remus forget anyone other than him exists through sheer force of a stare.

It feels ridiculously familiar, in the painful, stabbing way that everything that reminds him of their childhood feels painful. If he blinks at the wrong second, Remus will wake up and find himself on the school playground again after he told the wrong kid to stop running before he ends up slamming his head on the asphalt and that kid decided to take offense with Remus’s face for it.

Remus doesn’t remember the name of that kid anymore, or their hair color, the sound of their voice or the feel of their tiny stupid fist or what shards of his skull Remus had gotten to see. He remembers that Roman hadn’t been there when all the other kids had started backing up and watching with excitement that someone was finally, finally going to shut Remus up and none of the teachers stepped in until the fifth fist had landed. 

He wonders if somewhere out there that kid without a name is maybe realizing that Remus wasn’t lying about seeing him die. He wonders if that kid would feel sorry about punching him until the teachers had to pry him off Remus. He wonders if Roman really did feel sorry about not stopping it like how he had said he felt when he was helping Remus press ice packs to his body afterwards. 

He wonders if Roman remembers that day at all.

“Remus,” Roman says. “Give me the switch. Please.”

“So polite,” Remus croons.

“Remus, you don’t need to blow yourself up— ”

Remus laughs. “Oh this?” Remus says waving to his vest. “Nah, this was just for laughs. I had some Christmas lights around…You know! Reusing! I care a lot about the environment. My whole outfit is completely thrifted except for the parts that are not! But no, the real bombs are up there.”

It doesn’t take anyone more than a few seconds to see them once Remus has nudged their attention upwards: the handful of flashing blinking red lights littered across the grand opulent ceiling, at the junctions that would bring down the whole flaming ceiling on them all, clinically tested by Remus. Someone screams and its fucking music to Remus’s ears. The air buzzes with panic that just barely avoids setting off the charges with electrostatic-physics-pseudo-magic. Remus meets Virgil’s gaze head on, and nearly laughs at how Virgil leans back into Patton’s very capable, altar boy arms and desperately tries not to throw himself into an unfortunate panic attack that might get them all killed when his sonic waves interfere with the delicately placed devices.

“How…?” Roman says, flustered, red faced, and rightfully horrified.

“I know a guy, you might have met him, he goes by the name Basilisk. Tell me if this rings any bells but he can turn into literally any fucking animal, excuse my French. Public Library schematics are easily found online— bet you didn’t think that through when you chose this place to set up shop, right? And really who didn’t spend their formative teen years trying to build things that blow up? The only actual hard part of all this was tying the bombs to my sexy squirrel boyfriend so he could sneak in through the skylight.” Remus says, eyeing the nails on his free hand, tsk-ing at the chipped nail polish he hadn’t had time to fix while preparing everything for this moment.

Roman doesn’t really flinch, but the tip of his rapier inches upwards at the mention of Janus’s self-picked name, and his teeth grit together just barely short of a sneer that offends every part of Remus on a spiritual level. 

“I was here last night— ”

“Yeah, you were dealing with the molotov cocktail that was thrown through the window over there at…. nine thirty-seven give or take a few seconds,” Remus jerks a thumb over to the window that had been shattered and boarded up by the time that anyone had actually woken up for the day. “Really, this is a public library, Bro. What will the public think when they hear you didn’t even have the firemen come check the building out last night? And that instead of closing it down for today, like it should have been after an event like that, you went ahead and gave me twenty three shiny little hostages! And then we wouldn’t be having this conversation and I wouldn’t be trying to find a reason not to…let go of this button.”

Behind him, Patton, or Zeal, or Whoever He Was, whispers something to Virgil and steadily lets go of him, only glancing back once to make sure that Virgil won’t drop to his knees and brain himself on the polished wooden floors. It's a close call from the light buzzing in the air that makes Remus think of TV static. 

“Prince,” Zeal says warningly in a way that was probably meant to be a mumble but the staunch silence of the library crafted it into a local announcement. “There are people in the back conference rooms having their evaluations done.”

“Oh yeah!” Remus agrees, “Two individuals and a mother with her seven year old daughter. I can even speed up the process for you: Linda Maddock makes really great chocolates, her daughter is super sweet and I hope that the first person stupid enough to break her heart gets eaten by a panther considering her daughter can speak to animals. But honestly they freak me out, you know? I mean, a parent who cares about their child? I wouldn’t know what to do if that were me.” 

Something flashes through Zeal’s face, short and fast and Remus thinks it might have been something like pity. Remus’s body aches from a riot that he almost didn’t survive, his eyes burn from tear gas that had been avoidable, his tongue itches with all the things he wants to tell Patton Hart to do with his pity.

“That information is confidential,” Roman says in a hard voice. “How did you know— ?”

“I know a lot of things! In case it wasn’t clear before, I can see the fucking future,” Remus says. Roman shifts a foot forward, and Remus holds up the mechanism again in case his ridiculously short minded brain forgot what exactly Remus was holding over all their heads. Literally. “Though, you’ve got everyone so fucking sure they really are still back there. Where did you get your magical power scientists from, Roman? Where are their licenses? I’ve seen drug dealers with better certifications than these guys and that’s after I hacked the FBE records to find out who would be hosting these registration interviews.” 

Remus chances a glance toward Virgil, who seems to freeze like a twenty year old Remus in an eighteen wheeler's headlights. One of the other civilians must have crept over as a silent bequest of Zeal because they were working at trying to quietly undo the duct tape now.

“I hope you get shot,” Virgil hisses, although from the lack of reactions from everyone around him Remus guesses that it was a display of Virgil’s frankly impressive sound control. A special secret message for Remus and Remus alone. 

Remus winks at him and turns back to Roman. “How do you know they didn’t shuffle each of those people off into a big white van out back? How do you know those people who trusted you aren’t screaming your name right now? How do you know any of them are coming back through those doors, Roman?”

Someone is crying. Remus would feel bad, if only he hadn’t grown up being told his tears were pointless and changed nothing and didn’t make anyone feel better. His fingers ache, pinpricks of pain that feel exactly like needles being methodically slid into each of his digits.

For a moment, he thinks about just opening his hand, letting go of the remote, and watching Roman’s face go from defensive to horrified to scared-out-of-his-mind. Something to pay back for the years and years and years of terror he inflicted on Remus. An end, The End and Remus wouldn’t ever have to worry about figuring out his own emotions about a brainwashed, dumbass brother.

“Nothing is going to happen,” Roman says, very heroically. “Nothing like that is— is that what you think I’m doing here?! Kidnapping people?! You rigged the building with bombs because you think I’m kidnapping people?!”

He sounds like Remus suggested he play an extra in a Broadway musical instead of the lead. He sounds like he doesn’t think Remus is actually dangerous. He sounds like he did right before he told Remus that nothing bad was going to happen at that party four years ago. 

He sounds like he still thinks Remus doesn’t have a power. So sure, so certain, so indigent. 

“What is it about his face that makes you people trust that?” Remus asks. “Do you even hear him? Roman, do I need to spell it out? Big Shadow Government. Preppy Dancing Monkey. A list with the names and addresses of everyone who has an ability and what it is.”

“For getting resources to those that might need it!” Roman says. 

“Oh yeah, definitely not so certain people might go missing in the middle of the night. Do you also fall for Nigerian Prince phone call schemes, too? What’s your social security number?”

“What do you want, Remus,” Roman says, dangerously, less like a question and more like demanding permission to punch him in the face. Less like the actor Remus had spent seventeen years building up and more like the person who had thrown it all back in his face. Less like this façade he’d convinced everyone else is real, and more like who Remus knew he was underneath.

“Prince,” Zeal, Patton, whoever, says softly, warningly, nervously. It almost sounds like “please don’t do something stupid” and “when do I start getting paid for being your babysitter Roman?” and “why do you always get to be the center of attention when I’m just as morally unethical?”

“Stay back,” Roman tells him, with all the authority of a man who doesn’t believe a black hole would be able to kill him and Remus definitely wants to see what he would do.

“What I want,” Remus bites out, “is for you to be dead in a ditch, so disfigured that no one recognizes you and no one will remember you. But seeing as you’ve been on international TV parading around bullshit and dumbassery, I’m settling for you being dead and everyone hating you as much as I do.”

As if waiting for the right moment, the civilian helping Virgil finally manages to break through the duct tape and free him. Remus tenses his shoulders, bending his knees just so that if Virgil takes a flying lunge at him Remus can maybe dodge before his head is slammed through the polished wooden floor for all this.

But in the end Virgil just glowers at him like they hadn’t just spent three days together, practically roommates except that Remus has never paid rent before in his life and is not about to start. He looks pale and sweaty but otherwise content to slip further and further away from Remus, from the stage he’d built, from the spotlight that Remus is certain will burn them all one day (maybe even today). It really was a shame finding out that he had opinions on Self Preservation and feared Death like it was something he could avoid forever if he never did anything slightly upsetting; Remus would have loved to see what other things that voice of his could do.

But then the civilian who was helping Virgil stands up again and Remus thinks that maybe it would have been better if Virgil had knocked him into his next life.

"Oh," Remus says, because he can’t forget a death even if he tries; it doesn’t matter who it is, when it is, where it is, Remus remembers, remembers, remembers when no one else will. 

Sharp angels, pale skin, jet black hair tousled by the short sudden panic of the crowd when Remus had made his entrance but Remus only remembers all of that highlighted by humid rain and street lights of a road that he had never walked before. The man’s eyes are bright and blue and narrowed in suspicion through thick lenses with a finger print on them and Remus memorized the sound of construction workers, the feel of a weightless free fall, and the taste of a name he's never spoken. 

Maybe it’s destiny, if Remus believed in something as benevolent as that. He squeezes the deadman's switch so hard he almost thinks he crushes it. 

"Ain’t this interesting!” He says. “A dead man walking! Future corpse! How’s your life going, Logan?”

The other people shy away from Remus's sudden target, but Logan merely tips his head to the side without an ounce of fear towards the situation he’s currently in. There's less than ten feet between them, the ceiling rigged with all sorts of flashing lights that he and Janus spent a decent amount of time orchestrating; there's no reason he shouldn't be afraid, there’s no reason that he should know that he dies somewhere else some time else, there’s no reason that Remus should like that. 

Unafraid people do unexpected things. Unafraid people think they know everything. Unafraid people tell Remus he can’t see the future and then ruin his life a million times over because they don’t know what it’s like to feel blood between their fingers and realize that every death is preventable if Remus kills himself enough for it and somehow that makes his life worth less than theirs.

"Is there something you need from me?" Logan asks neutrally. "Or rather any of us here. I believe that if you have drama to work out with... whatever The Prince is to you, then you have no need to keep any of the rest of us from our daily lives. This whole thing is already ridiculous without you wasting our time." 

And Remus does believe it’s ridiculous and that he’s wasting their time. That’s the whole point of this; dragging each second out as far as he can take it and milking their attention for as much exposure time as he can. He wants this attention, he wants to be seen, he wants Roman to see him and there’s something about Logan’s gaze that doesn’t sit right with Remus so he--

--blinks. 

"In fact," Logan continues, quite confident for someone who might not survive to see the sun again. "This entire thing will be resolved if you put down the weapon and try talking for once." 

Remus, who had talked before, who had screamed, who had begged and cried and argued before, sings, "Oh, I sincerely doubt that."

Logan's eyes dart to the side glancing at the other hostages just for a second and the boy he's with, the young man with a Starbucks cup who's name Remus never learned shakes his head subtly. Logan clicks his tongue in something akin to disappointment or distaste, and sets his gaze back on Remus. 

"I will try again then," Logan says, standing straighter, shoulders squared and spine far stronger than Roman’s had ever been. "Based on your previous actions and reactions, you don't have any actual motivation or urge to hurt anyone other than The Prince, and perhaps Zeal, although I doubt that as well. So you will step away from us and you will avoid hurting civilians in your endeavors to continue... this charade you have set up here. In fact, you will cease your performance because you do not believe it has any purpose in helping your ultimate cause of The Prince’s death."

Remus blinks, almost about to laugh, almost about to ask what Logan thinks this is going to accomplish, almost about to go back to Roman and Zeal and The Plan when his grip loosens and the remote falls into the empty air so much like a body tumbling down a manhole that Remus can do nothing but stare at it and wonder what the fuck just happened. 

Logan smiles at him, smugly, condescendingly, pompously, and that’s the last thing Remus sees before Roman is hurtling into him like a freight train.-- 

--blinks.

 “In fact—” 

“Stop,” Remus, who had talked before, who had screamed, who had begged and cried and argued before, blurts out like his ribs didn’t nearly snap from the force of a blow that never happened. “What the fuck was that?”

Logan's eyes dart to the side glancing at the other hostages just for a second and the boy he's with, the young man with a Starbucks cup who's name Remus never learned looks just as bewildered as everyone else. 

“I see,” Logan says slowly, a smile creeping across his face like a scythe glinting in the moonlight. “So it did work. Fascinating. This entire thing will be resolved if you put down the weapon and try talking for once.” 

“No,” Remus says.

Logan’s eyes narrow. He takes a step forward like he doesn’t even notice Patton or Roman telling him to stop. His back straightens, and he towers and the people behind him inhale sharply and stare at him as if he’s lost his mind. “You’re angry. You’re angry and you don’t think anything will change no matter what you do. It won’t, not like this. Not even you believe this will actually change anything about how The Prince sees you. So you will step away from us and you will avoid hurting civilians in your endeavors to continue.”

“Logan,” the kid warns.

“In fact, you will cease your performance because you do not believe it has any purpose in helping your ultimate cause of The Prince’s death," Logan continues so certain, so convinced, so unchangeable.

Remus’s grip loosens and the remote falls into the empty air so much like a body tumbling down a manhole that Remus can do nothing but lunge for it again and brace for Roman diving into him like a wrecking ball.--

--shifts his weight to the side, favoring the ribs that aren’t broken, the leg that isn’t sprained, the arm that doesn’t feel dislocated. “You changed the script that time,” Remus says more to himself than to Logan. “Why did you change the script?”

“In fact— Pardon?” Logan says cut off from what he was saying. 

“Your power,” Remus says, ignoring Roman’s claims for his attention. “Phrase activated? You changed the script but not all of it. Why didn’t you change all of it?”

Logan seems to realize something, his chin shifting slightly, and his voice raising. He straightens his back and steps forward and the people behind him shift behind him like Logan’s flimsy little body will protect them from a bomb. “You don’t think you can win this without your power. No one in this room thinks you can win this without your power. Zeal and The Prince will attack right now because they are heroes and they can beat you.”

Remus’s mouth opens, but before he can make a sound, Roman is slamming into him, toppling them both to the ground and the remote skids out from Remus’s hand. --

--jerks reflectively from the impact that doesn’t happen. 

”In fact— ” 

“What’s your power?” Remus interrupts. “Voice activated? No, bitch, eyes on me. What is your stupid ass power?”

There are a billion seconds between them, a gazillion decisions to be made and Remus’s throat feels as dry as a polar desert. Each breath pricks at his skin, yanking at the invisible seams holding him together in a future that Remus isn’t going to live through and Logan steps forward like he feels it too.

Logan’s too sharp, too keen, too knowing eyes dart back to Remus quick and lethal and evaluating. “...I don’t think I should tell you that.”

“Remus!” Roman says from miles and eons and dimensions away. “Your issue is with me!”

“Not anymore,” Remus says and nearly laughs because he knew there were going to be problems in this plan, he knew there were going to be mistakes and consequences and Remus wasn’t going to be able to rely on anyone to help but staring at Logan feels like staring at an exploding sun that’s collateral damage is so vast there’s no one left to acknowledge it.

Remus swore he wouldn’t die, Remus swore he wouldn’t use this power stupidly but Logan’s eyes are narrowing. When Logan’s mouth opens it feels like he’s talking to every version of Remus that has ever died, every version of Remus that wanted to live, every version of Remus that stood in a gas station bathroom clutching the grimy sink and staring at himself in a mirror with a giddy grin left over from being run over that first time.

 “How many times are you going to go through this, Remus?”--

--grins with all his teeth.

”In fact— ” Logan continues and then he doesn’t because Remus is lunging the distance between them without warning. He slams his fist into Logan’s face, knuckles scraping against Logan’s perfect teeth, shoving all those perfect words back into his mouth. He hears the wind go out of the room, the sudden stillness of shock, and the buzz of panic and click of seventeen triggers being pulled.

“Did I say you could talk?” Remus snarls, and that’s the last thing he says before his inner organs all explode at the same time from a dozen dimestore guard’s guns.

He does not hear Roman scream his name. But then again… he’s not hearing anything anymore.--

--immediately knows that Logan has fucked up Janus’s plan to high hell.

"I'm wasting your time? What do you have to do so urgently, Logan?” Remus asks like his ribs didn’t nearly snap from the force of a blow that never happened, his lungs aren’t punctured with bullet wounds that tore through his body like paper, like his nose isn’t suddenly stuffed up with more blood than the rest of his corpse. “Die?”

“Remus!” Roman snarls. “Your issue is with me! Leave everyone else out of it!”

Logan frowns, eyes narrowed and lips pinched into a mostly straight line that reminds Remus of the polished lid of a coffin right before it’s lowered into the ground. The bees in his guts swarm up to his ribs, flitting between his lungs until he has to focus to breathe regularly and not scream.

“Do you know you die from falling down an open manhole?” Remus asks, ignoring Roman entirely. “Completely avoidable! If only you or your brother were paying slightly more attention!”

Said brother (younger, stupider, better) freezes at the comment, eyes hidden behind those aviator glasses that reflect Remus’s own silhouette right back at him. His iced coffee is clutched in his hand, still half full, with ice cubes clinking together silently compared to the rumbling tension in the room.

Roman’s signature is not on it. Remus isn’t sure why that makes him want to fucking laugh.

“You die, nerd,” he says. “No do overs. No take backs. No— ”

“I didn’t,” Logan cuts in.

“You will.”

“You are misunderstanding,” Logan says loudly, taking a step forward in the way that makes several other people whimper and scoot back behind him like a shield they could trust to protect them and Remus clenches the deadman’s switch in his hand tighter.

“Logan,” his brother hisses. “You can’t talk away a bomb!”

But Logan doesn’t even look back. He’s nearly Remus’s height, with the edges of his black trench coat sweeping around his calves when his slightly scuffed formal shoes, and Remus doesn’t exactly feel like a frog on a dissection table but it’s a near and very interesting thing and he thinks that Janus would either fall hopelessly in love with Logan or put his claws through Logan’s lungs with no in-between.

“I did not die,” Logan says, slowly and pointedly like the teachers who thought that because Remus claimed to see the future that meant he was stupid because he didn’t see their pop quizzes coming enough to study for them. “Although I’m unsure how your power works, when we ran into each other previously you granted me the vision of my death. Yesterday, the event played nearly the same as what I had seen: I had taken off my glasses to clean them from the rain and the second before I had fallen, I caught myself. I was able to circumnavigate the manhole.”

There’s a beat where Remus is certain that the entire world freezes: the space of air that rings between the tick and the tock, the breath before a scream, the white nothingness that comes after Zeal hits him with his power.

There’s part of a scoff deep in his chest that trembles like an earthquake that only Remus can feel. 

“It was like Deja Vu,” Logan says, simply, clinically.

--”I didn’t say anything about rain. I didn’t say anything about you taking off your glasses. I didn’t say anything— ”--

--”Did you feel your death? Did your brother? Did he cry? What’s his name?”--

--”How did you see that? What did you do that hundreds of other people have never been able to do? Why did you get to live?!”--

--”What the hell makes you so FUCKING special?”--

--”THIS IS MY POWER! WHY DON’T I GET TO CONTROL WHO SEES THE FUTURE?!”--

There’s pressure in the back of Remus’s throat and it tastes like rainwater when he swallows. He instinctively drags his free hand under his nose, barely acknowledging the lack of real blood before he acknowledges the fury bubbling in his soul. 

Logan stands in front of him, unbothered by his own death, untouched by the fear that people liked to look at Remus with, unchanged by the fact that he knows Remus has a power and what kind of bullshit is that?! Why of all the people, of all the times, of all the futures, why is it Logan who believes him? Why is it Logan who could see it?

((Remus is twenty one, but for a blink he feels like he’s thirteen again cornered in the boys locker room after gym with the other boys pressing him to tell them if one of the girls will say yes if they ask her out, and how does he know, is he sure, where’s your proof, Remus? Come on there’s gotta be something, I think you’re holding out on us, maybe this is jog your memory— ))

Remus’s laughter sounds like getting hit by a bullet train. “Deja Vu! Ha! Good one! Okay, nerd! You seem decently smart. Riddle me this: why did you choose to spend the rest of your life? At the FBE? You dragged your brother all the way out here, too?”

Logan’s expression flickers further towards annoyance. “All persons with extraordinary abilities are required by law— ”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Remus says. “If all the other kids were jumping off the bridge would you jump too? Here’s a hint: water from a 25 foot drop can still feel like concrete if you do it right enough.”

“Don’t you mean ‘wrong enough’?” Zeal asks, looking queasy.

“Do I look like the type of person who means ‘wrong enough’, bitch?” Remus says. “Oh come on, Pattie! You saw me in that crowd! I was less than a foot from you and I died three times in ways that were directly your fucking fault.”

“Remus!” Roman cries again, stepping forward even as his precious sidekick pales further. 

“I believe we have entertained this far long enough,” Logan cuts in. He takes another step forward, gently pressing his glasses back up his nose, and Remus wants to know if he smells like rainwater and concrete. His voice is an orchestra that catches everyone’s attention, including Roman’s, and for someone who is not a hero parading around on TV and taking autographs, Logan looks perfectly in his element. “This entire thing will be resolved if you put down the weapon and try talking for once.” 

“You’re right!” Remus says, twitching his nose as he feels the pressure of a nosebleed already starting to form. The right side of his body aches from the collision course Roman seems to be itching to throw them into, but he forces his muscles to tense and not give it away to anyone. “I am wasting your time. I’m wasting everyone’s time, aren’t I, Logan? Let’s stop with the pleasantries! You want me to talk so much, then I’ll talk! Congratulations, everyone! Welcome to the trial!” Remus announces, as loudly as he can. His voice dances off the aching antique building making him impossible to mishear, much less ignore. 

“You’ve been selected for jury duty and you don’t get to opt out. And Logan, you just got promoted to the fucking chairman! So take a step back and shut the fuck up.”

Zeal takes an audible breath, drawing Remus’s attention like a snap. “I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot here! Remus, if you have a power, we can get it documented right here! It will be official for everyone to see. All you have to do is hand over the remote and let us deactivate the bombs and get these people out of here. I promise.”

He offers out a hand gently to Remus as if he were a wild animal that just needed the healing power of God to fix whatever was wrong with him. Remus thinks about biting into his hand, chomping down until Zeal is screaming, until the bones shatter, until Remus is tasting blood that isn’t his own.

“Hard pass,” Remus says. “I can print out a certificate of Fucked Up-ness at Staples.”

“Where is, uhm, Basilisk?” Zeal says, undeterred, and Remus remembers that expression from when a taser latched into his spine and killed him, from when he was looking at a wind maker and stole their power, from when he looked at Janus and raised his hand and Janus dropped like a brick. “He— or they— seemed to be more… uhm…”

Remus’s jaw pinches. “I don’t have him GPS tagged. Why? Do you think he’s a better conversationalist than me? I think I’m offended, Altar Boy. Almost enough to just....”

He twitches his wrist and both Roman and Zeal jerk forward with twin looks of panic on their faces. That’s only aborted when Remus yanks the remote back and raises an eyebrow at both of them.

Logan purses his lips and checks his watch as if he has an appointment he’s going to be late for.

“Just kidding,” Remus says, cheerily. “If we did that, then no one would have time to hate you as much as I do!”

Roman’s eyes flicker green, little lights that remind Remus of all the Christmases where Roman got everything on his wishlist and Remus got a new pair of shoes. The sight of it makes Remus’s teeth hurt, makes his stomach roll, makes the acrimony in his chest grow like a tumor that hasn’t figured out if it's going to kill Remus yet. 

Roman puffs his chest. “If this is about me then let everyone else leave!”

“But it’s not!” Remus smiles. “It’s not about you, Roman. Despite how every other thing in our lives has turned out, not everything is about you, specifically!”

Roman grits his teeth, "Really?" He waves his arms around. "Because it feels a lot like it’s all about me right now! It’s time to end this Remus! Give me the remote, and we can get you help. See a specialist— "

"Been there! Done that!" Remus says. "Or did you forget how many meds my specialists would put me on no matter how many times I told them it wasn’t like that? Did you forget how Mom would grab my hair, yank my head back, and force pill after pill after pill into my mouth before school? How she'd stick her fingers in my mouth to make sure I didn't hide them under my tongue, because she didn’t trust me? How she called the school to assign a teacher to watch me when we got to the building to make sure I didn't head straight to the restrooms to throw it all back up? Because surely that was the only reason I wasn’t getting better." 

There’s a silence in the room that Remus wasn’t expecting. A stiffness that swallows the entire Library that makes the books and the shelves and the aching, ancient walls seem like they’re suddenly listening to Remus too.

"What?" Zeal  whispers. 

"Is he telling the truth?" Logan asks Roman, and probably for the first time looks like he isn’t trying to storm back out the doors. 

"That’s like...that's gotta be illegal," Virgil adds. "So illegal. Oh my god, I'm gonna throw up." 

((“Do you really think that you can keep your brother talking about himself for that long? Surely even he runs out of things he likes about himself,” Janus had asked a million years ago and a few hours ago and five seconds ago, while holding the fourth rough draft of their plan in his hands. And Remus had nearly snorted that last of Virgil’s tin roof sundae ice cream out his nose.

“I’m not going to be talking about him,” Remus, who was confident, who was in love, who knew Roman more than he knew himself, who was twenty one and stupid and so tired of hurting, says. “I’m going to be talking about me.”))

“Where were you, Roman?” Remus asks just to push, push, pushhhhh. “How could my life have been a living nightmare for every single day and you didn't notice at all? I was begging for someone to save me!”

The crowd shifts and mumbles and Remus can feel their apprehension rising like a hot air balloon in the middle of the library. Roman can probably feel it too.

“You didn’t— I wasn’t— ” Roman stutters like he’s looking for someone to break into the conversation and call out the line he forgot was in the script.

Remus just stares at him, a smile plastered to his face like a mask when everything underneath it felt he was being boiled alive. Brainwashed or not, someone else holding the strings or not, eleven minutes between them or not, this tastes like relief.

"Oh yeah?" Roman snarls, and just like that the hero persona finally evaporates, folding and twisting and warping Roman into someone completely different and very familiar and I’m sorry they like me more than you! Maybe if you weren’t such a freak you would have been invited too!

"Where were you, Remus? You want to pretend to be the victim here? Want to act like you've never done anything wrong? Where were you when I was drowning under Mom’s expectations of a perfect son? Where were you when every single mistake I made was turned into a world ending event by her? Where were you when my power lashed out and got Dad killed?!" 

"Getting run over on I-90 probably," Remus says. "Guess it depends on when he died. I could have been dropping toasters in the bathtub in a hotel in South Dakota or screwing up parkour in Chicago, too." 

"Is everything a joke to you?" 

"Do I look like I’m laughing?" Remus laughs. "Why should I be sad about the death of the man who couldn't look me in the eyes for our ninth birthday?" 

Because Remus had been nine years old and only eleven minutes younger and Roman had gotten to choose the cake flavor for them because Remus had seen Dad trip off the ladder when pulling their presents out from the hiding place in the attic and hadn't been able to stop crying all day. Because Remus had been nine years old and only eleven minutes younger and he’d heard Dad read Roman a bedtime story in his bedroom and then listened to the steps pass right by Remus’s room. Because he’d been nine years old and after that first diagnosis from his psychiatrist, after the first round of pills that hadn’t worked, after that first time that they hadn’t listened to him, their dad had disappeared out of Remus’s life. 

As quiet as a ghost.

((Remus didn’t know he was dead, dead, dead and in the ground. Gone and never coming back. Burned to ashes and scattered into the wind. Six feet under in a cemetery that Remus will never visit. Some part of him (the part that remembers bedtime stories read in silly voices, forehead kisses and hair ruffles, and hugs so big that Remus could disappear into them and forget about seeing blood on bumpers of silver sedans) howls.))

“Really, Roman,” Remus says, when Roman looks like he doesn’t know what to do with that information anymore than Remus knows what to do with it. His voice doesn’t shake, his throat doesn’t burn, and his hand doesn’t let go of the remote just to reach forward and strangle Roman to death, but Virgil is staring at him and Remus knows he’s not completely fooling everyone. “If you want to throw the victim card back and forth we can, but you aren’t going to win. You don’t get it. Whatever happened, whatever bad thing occurred you always fucking had someone who cared about you. You had Mom. You had teachers. Doctors. Friends. Other students. Do you know what I had?”

((A snowglobe. An eighteen wheeler. A toaster. A noose, scissors, keys, a freefall—))

“An incorrect diagnosis,” Remus says. “That wrecked my entire life.”

“It’s not incorrect!” Roman snaps. “You—!"

“Even if it wasn’t! Even if I couldn’t see the future, do you still think any of the way you treated me for my entire fucking life was fair? That it was fine? That it was good and role model worthy and you deserve to be looked up to?!” Remus yells, his voice echoing in the cavernous hall, maybe shaking, maybe cracking. “Do you?!”

Roman takes a step back and Remus takes a step forward.

"I was eight years old, Roman!" Remus yells, "I saw my brother die! I was scared and I was asking for help in the only way I knew how to!" 

"You were making it up for attention! Just like you’ve always done! Just like you're doing here! Now!" Roman says hotly, eyes burning, burning, burning. "You haven’t changed a bit, Remus!" 

“He’s going to get everyone blown up,” Virgil strangles out.

Patton seems to be of the same opinion from how he calls out Romans name, barely more than a begging whimper of a catholic school child desperately trying to convince someone to avoid hell by just… not being gay.

Roman doesn’t spare him a look, and Remus soaks up the attention like a sponge. If Remus was capable of being embarrassed he thinks he might be embarrassed at how delightfully his lungs fill up when Roman is glaring at him like nothing else in the world matters. 

But hey, if Roman wants to dig a grave, who is Remus to stop him this time? Or all the times before this? All the times that never happened?

Who is Remus to shy away from all the things that Roman had grown into long before seventeen year old Remus had left him behind?

“Did it ever occur to you that I hadn’t been?” Remus asks, because if he has enough air to breathe he has enough air to twist his own words into a noose to hang himself. “Did you ever wonder if maybe you weren’t so special, Roman? Did you ever think I was worth the air I breathe?”

Roman doesn’t answer. Roman doesn’t answer and it feels like an answer all by itself. Remus’s freefall is ending in a collision, his thundering heart is exploding in his chest, his soul is finally finding that rest in the suddenly overwhelming static silence around them.

“I thought the world of you,” Remus says and he means it. “Some hero you turned out to be.”

He twists his wrist, shaking the remote between them.

“Okay, this is ridiculous!” Logan finally snaps out and Remus knows enough about wearing out people’s patience to know he reached the end of Logan’s. “Why are we even entertaining any of this?!”

Logan shoves a pointed finger at Roman and Remus. “You! And you! Both need therapy! Not to be jumping around like… like sophomoric imbeciles content to utterly disrupt the rest of our lives because of your puerile communication skills! Remus, I am sorry that your childhood was terrible, but it is not my job to facilitate or placate your uncouth attempts to find closure for the undoubtedly distressing attacks made against you by ignoramuses in your life. This entire farce is the exact reason why he is so confident in his ridiculously shallow minded insistence that you have no empathy, and you are smart enough to know that, which leads me to the conclusion that you are just wasting my personal time while you stall for Basilisk to finish whatever activity he’s been executing in the back area of this Library! And one! More! Thing!”

Remus’s mouth opens, a hundred billion futures rolling off his tongue, tripping on his molars, jumbling around in his throat all in the blink of an eye, in the pause of a breath, in the space between heart beats and still Remus isn’t fast enough to stop Logan from talking.

“—the bombs aren’t even real!” Logan yells furiously. “They are just flickering Christmas lights wrapped around probably empty boxes held together with duct tape!”

The entire globe seems to stop, and Remus can feel the jolt under his feet. Every noise seems to funnel directly out of existence before it can manifest. Remus’s lips ache from his grin, but there’s not a single part of him that is smiling.

“Why would you do that, Logan,” Remus says. “You ruined the surprise.”

“What?” Roman echoes. “They’re fake?”

“I never said they were real,” Remus says, with a shrug, shifting his weight back. “I never even said I had a bomb! Everyone really is just willing to believe the worst things about me. Honestly I think I’m offended! Seriously! What have I ever done to make all these very wonderful hostages believe I’m capable of building a bomb, much less a dozen of them? And then get them into this building without anyone noticing at all? Shame on you! And Jannie, I’m running out of topics to go through so if at any moment you'd like to finish up before Igetmybrainssplattered—"

Remus lunges to the side, just in time to avoid Roman’s lunge with his rapier, and then the deafening boom of gunfire hits the air he would have been if he were slightly slower. The glass doors crack and shatter and the screams start up again bouncing off the walls like thousands of firecracker filled pinballs.

“Hey PitPat!” Remus says, “Catch!” 

Patton’s eyes widen and he panics for a whole second, with the wispy white light flicking out like the world’s most disappointing trick candles. Remus doesn’t give him time to figure out the rest, flicking the remote in his hand into the air, to give sweet, sweet relief to his cramped wrist.

Patton lunges forward rolling on the ground and Remus doesn’t wait to see if he actually caught it in his illogical distress. He grabs Roman’s rapier wrist and twists around him before the next round of bullets can find a target, shoving Roman’s hand in between his shoulder blades, in a way that he knows hurts.

“You’re brainwashed,” Remus snarls right into Roman ear. 

“And you’re fucking insane!” Roman yells right back. The world floods green and R--

--oman’s center of gravity drops as he curls forward, throwing Remus back into the line of fire, head over heels and several thousand curses on his tongue. The edge of the rapier scrapes the side of his neck, hot and blood and someone is screaming his name, harsh and violent and gratingly hopelessly worried. The vest takes two shots like fucking swords slamming into his already struggling lungs and Remus looks up just in time to see the next one inches from his fa--

--oman’s center of gravity drops as he curls forward, throwing Remus’s body over him like he weighs absolutely nothing and means even less to him. He twists his neck to side, barely avoiding the blade edge and someone screams his name like a prayer, like a call to a god that is not listening, like a beg to Roman to think for once in his fucking life. Remus’s lungs take two punches to them, and leaves him g-g-gasping for air where there is none. He spits out a curse right before that last bullet drives right through his jaw and everything around him explodes--

--emus lets go of Roman before he can leverage Remus into the air. His body rolls to the side, avoiding the bullets that send the crowds both outside and inside into a panicking screeching riot. 

“REMY!” Logan screams and now he doesn’t sound anything like the bold character who talked his way into getting Remus murdered.

Remus’s ankle catches on the floor tripping him into the polished hard wood so hard his teeth crack and his mouth blooms with blood, blood, blood. Bullets slam into his back, his shoulder blade, his spine tearing through the padding, and Remus catches sight of black combat boots in a forgotten iced coffee mixed with something far too scarlet to be anything but blood--

--emus lets go of Roman before he can leverage Remus into the air, and then he shoves him forward with all the strength that he can manage. The bullets freeze, terrified of hitting their own superhero, and Remus watches as Roman stumbles directly into Virgil’s arms, watches the way that Roman gathers his balance, his mouth curls into a grim thank you, as he shifts to turn back to Remus because like usual he’s not looking at the right mouth because Remus hates Roman but there’s someone who hates him more right there--

--emus throws himself away from Roman with enough force that Roman goes stumbling directly into the line of fire that had previously been marked as Remus’s. The bullets freeze in the air, too worried, terrified, petrified at the idea of tearing through Roman’s precious paper skin. Remus chokes on his blood, spitting it out of his mouth before it causes him to vomit, his head riiiiiinging with the sounds of gunshots and screams from futures that aren’t going to happen and ones that are. 

Roman stumbles into Virgil, his rapier nearly tumbling to the ground from his twisted wrist. Virgil’s eyes widen, the whites gleaming in the artificial light. Remus feels the seconds grind to halt; everything happening so fast that his brain-mind-thoughts are moving hundreds of times faster than the events around them, than how rapidly his own body can move, than how quickly anyone else can seem to comprehend what is going to happen.

“It’s time to pick a side!” Remus yells, taking steps back. “Aren’t you tired of hiding? Of being alone?”

“It’s over Remus!” Roman shouts, eyes glowing green, green, green.

There’s an inhale.

Virgil has startling brown eyes, with speckles of purple in them. 

Exhale.

“Aren’t you tired of being scared of Death?” Remus asks. 

“You’re the worst,” Virgil says clear as day, voice vibrating through the air like a sword slashing away all the other sound, his body moving as fluidly as air.

Roman has half a second, a fourth of a second, an eighth of a second to turn back at the sudden noise distortion— it’s not even enough to recognize how Virgil’s fingers hooked his mask and dragged it down and how his tongue rolls wetly over his thin lips before they open and—

Remus only has half of a second, a fourth of a second, and eighth of a second, to dive the fuck out of the way before the static air slams Roman at him like a brick wall. A catapult of Red and White and Regis flings over his shoulder and Remus can’t stop himself from gawking at Roman slams into a shelf of books and topples it. 

“Great!” Virgil yells, “They’re going to revoke my library card now!”

But all Remus can do is laugh.

The nearest hired guard turns their gun towards Virgil and Virgil swears on Remus’s mother, as he throws up his arms like that would defend against a bullet to his face.

But before they can pull the trigger, another man appears from the back halls where the conference rooms were, wearing a doctor’s lab coat and glasses with graying out hair and charges recklessly right in between the guard and Virgil. The man is screaming something that Remus can’t quite make out with all the static noise in the air but from the way that man points behind him and Remus can’t help the grin on his face.

The guard hesitates for a moment looking where the doctor points and well…that’s all the time that Dr. Janus Witchall needs before he’s driving his knee into the man’s gut, just under his chest protector. The gun falls from the man’s hands and Janus spins and kicks him in the head like some type of martial artist master in a lab coat and Remus is swooning.

 “Apologies, darling,” Janus says, scales dancing along his cheeks, as he pulls off the wire rimmed glasses and tosses them carelessly over his shoulder. His hair swoops back to the blond he prefers, and it’s like looking at a sophisticated version of Janus that had been forced to go to Med School instead of being forced to kill his only friend. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long.”

“Basilisk!” Zeal yells, sounding wounded, sounding hurt, sounding betrayed. “What did you— ”

Janus smiles sweetly. “Relax, Patton. I left your doctors with some very lovely headaches. Please don’t blame Mrs. Maddock too much; her daughter thought it was really funny when I told her I wanted to play a prank on her mom. Poor woman fainted the moment I grew a tail.”

Remus actually had the strong suspicion that it was less of the woman fainting and more of her sitting quietly as Janus knocked out the doctor and stole his clothes, considering she hated the whole FBE registration requirement with all of her heart and when Janus had visited her with about $30,000 in cash asking to dress up as her daughter, the woman had pushed the backpack away and said he could do it for free if he made sure to punch Roman in the face. Remus would even bet real money that the woman had calmly discussed tea flavors with Janus as he tied her up to make it look like she’d been caught by surprise.

Remus didn’t respect a lot of people, but Linda Maddock was probably one of his new favorite people.

Remus laughs bubbling like blood flavored champagne in his chest. “I was worried you were going to miss the party!”

Janus cartwheels over himself, driving his heel into the face of a hired gunman so hard the visor shatters and the man screams despite the No Talking sign right next to them. Even in the form of a forty seven year old, he moves with all the grace and fluidity of his regular self. “Why do all your parties involve you covered in blood?”

“I think it’s really sexy of me to still be breathing right now!”

“Can the two of you flirt some other time?!” Virgil snarls ducking under a table and clamping his headphones to his head as Zeal’s power misses him by inches. “Son of a bitch!” 

The remaining glass windows shatter at his exclamation, knocking several more gunmen to the ground away from him but Virgil very much looks like he didn’t even notice them approaching. He squeezes his eyes close, gritting his teeth, and curls up like he jumped on a live grenade.

“Just fucking get out of here already!” 

Janus meets Remus’s eyes, gaze calculating with a question that Remus has already answered again and again and again. 

“Come now, Dearest,” Janus says without needing to look at Virgil. “You chose us, didn’t you? Why would we leave without you?”

“Fuck you!”

“Asshole!” Roman explodes out of the pile of books that Virgil acquainted his stupid perfect face with. Remus laughs, dodging forward out of the way of Roman’s recovery rapier slash by inches, centimeters, breaths.

Roman presses forward, blocking Remus out of his escape with that stupid sword of his, nearly nicking Remus’s fishnets, and Remus grabs a book from a shelf and throws it at his face before sliding around the aisle. Several of the civilians had launched this way when the gunfire had started and Remus didn’t, doesn’t, won't have a plan but he reaches out and is grabbing the first person he sees and yanking them in front of him as a barrier between him and Roman.

“You wouldn’t hurt a civilian!” Remus says facing Roman, gripping the kid— ah fuck it was the kid form Logan’s futures, the one with the glasses and the ice coffee, the one that wanted Roman’s signature in a future that Remus hadn’t realized didn’t happen until it was too late. 

The kid— Remy? Remy— was just tall enough to be annoying, with Remus’s hold on his throat from behind causing the kid’s spine to bend awkwardly at an angle that did not do either of them any favors. But even with him struggling like a fish on a hook, and Remus’s heart pounding like a drum at how Roman blocked him off from joining up with Janus and Virgil to get the fuck out of here.

Roman pants, snarling but doesn’t attack. “You dishonorable— ”

“Sorry, I wasn’t afforded a childhood that allowed me to have honor,” Remus says dragging Remy and himself back another several steps, and ignoring the sound of something crunching under his boot.

Remy, Logan’s brother, swears and claws at Remus’s arm.

“Shut up and work with me if you don’t want to die,” Remus growls under his breath.

“Bitch!” The boy spat out. “Those were my favorite glasses!” 

To their left, a guard flings through the air and crashes through the elegant stained glass windows and into the crowd outside. Roman throws his arms up to protect himself from the onslaught of sound vibrations and books tumbling off the shelves.

Remus spits blood out of his mouth and grabs the collar of Remy’s jacket and hoists him through the nearest door away from Roman. He shoves the kid forward and yanks the door closed behind them, swirling around to find something to block it with. Except that, Remus’s lungs scream when he recognizes the bland concrete stairwell that must lead up to the mezzanine level, and that his hostage had already scrambled up the first half flight while Remus was wasting his time. 

Remus takes the stairs two at a time, ignoring the way that the fight rings and echoes in the confines around him. He scoops up Remy again, catching him before the fist can land in his face and tripping the kid before he can get any good contact with Remus’s shins.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you how to actually fight?” Remus asks.

“Girl, I’m too cute to be involved in fights!” the kid says. “Let go, man! Logan will— ” 

Remus kicks open the door to the mezzanine floor, ducking out of the way of several stray bullets before he drags Remy out with him. He feels like the air is shattering, like gravity is working from every direction to tear his limbs apart, like every single one of the bullets that whizzed by had actually exploded through his rib cage. 

Remus had only glanced at the mezzanine floor when he had been looking at the floor plans, plotting where he and Janus could place the fake bombs while everyone was concerned about the little fire up front. When he had come inside the library there had been two guards up on the level watching with a critical eye but the cavernous layout of the main entrance made the “bombs” still too far away to make out. 

Virgil’s sound vibrations had knocked one of them to the floor so hard he’d been knocked out, and Remus didn’t see the other one, though he kept Remy pinned in front of him as he checked the shelves with a quick look and then analyzed the fight down below.

The drop is close to twenty feet, and Remus has jumped, skipped, fallen, danced off higher, but his stomach churns at the sight. 

Remus swears under his breath, “This is not where I want to be.”

The blood in the back of his throat tastes like death, like his esophagus had suddenly decided to go through emergency surgery, like his stomach acids had suddenly gotten formed a union and were rebelling against working conditions. He could jump, leave Remy right up here for Roman to console, he could jump and roll and only shatter his leg into a billion ways. He could fall and break his neck, he could spring and belly flop and hope that Janus could move fast enough to catch him. 

Janus flips, swinging a tail around behind him to knock two different attackers in their throats. He might be able to grow wings if Remus tested his adrenaline enough, but Janus moving so fast would…. well…Virgil is back-to-back with him, hands raised and every projectile shot towards him slams to a stop and drops to the ground as if there was an invisible wall in front of him. If Janus chose to save Remus, Virgil’s back wouldn’t be protected.

“LOGAN!” Remy screams from Remus’s arms and from the awkward angle behind the receptionist desk Logan’s face pops up in distress.

Janus yells something to Zeal, but it's Logan’s cadence that answers back. 

“Yo, Banshee!” Remus yells ducking as the bookshelf holding Eastern European history books explodes under gunfire. “Flood the building with white noise!”

“What?!” Virgil screams. “Do I look like a white noise machine to you?!”

“Logan’s power is voice-fucking-activated!” Remus yells back, hauling Remy up when he trips on the threadbare carpet. “Shut him up before he says something worthwhile!”

Virgil doesn’t respond but it doesn’t matter much because Remus’s ears are ringing and he can hear the door behind them slam open with Roman’s signature heroic entrance and Remus is out of time. 

“There’s nowhere to go, Remus!” Roman yells.

Remus shouldn’t look. Remus shouldn’t look. Remus shouldn’t look anywhere but at Janus who is so far down below yelling out something about a plan, but at Virgil who is nodding to him, but at his own future because he promised himself he’d stop dying when he didn’t need to and if he dies than everything about this was just wasted time.

But then in front of him, miles away and only twenty feet at the same time, Roman is screaming his name from across the ocean of wood floors, furious and angry and green eyes alight and--

--And Roman is standing there in the kitchen, winded, out of breath, his lips on the cusp of a smile that Remus hasn’t seen ever directed at him since they were eight years old and didn’t know about five words or silver sedans or how alone sharing a room could feel. He looks happy, lovely, free; like who he would have been, if Remus hadn’t loved him with all that he was. The sunlight pouring in from between the curtain windows paints him like a golden angel, like a god blessed hero, like something more than Roman Regis. 

It matches the blood stain on this chest.-- 

-- and that green light washes over the mezzanine level diving right into the ancient, antique wood boards with all the grace of a pretty ineffective light show, and Remus has his mouth open to stall for more time, any more time, any time he can get before he has to admit he failed.

The entire building shakes from the sound vibrations Virgil is sending off, and Remus is holding a child hostage in front of him and there are no kitchens here and Roman probably deserves it if he was going to be shot dead suddenly and Remus’s skin is breaking out in goosebumps and his throat is sore and he thinks that all the screaming in the world will probably never reach Roman if nothing else today had. 

“D-don’t come closer, Roman!”

But Roman is looking at the ground with a wide eyed, panicked expression. “Wait, Remus— !”

Remus’s foot slides back the last step.The railing is digging into his back, the kid is clawing at his already injured arm and Remus feels the cracking before he hears it. 

There’s a rumble under Remus’s shoes that he almost believes is his brain misunderstanding gravity for a moment, that the combined weight of him and the are muddling with his ability to stand on his own two legs, that maybe he’s more injured than he really knew, bleeding from a place he hadn’t realized because he’s so used to the unwavering high of losing all the blood inside of him. But then the vibrations race through Remus’s entire body enough to make him stumble and almost lose his grip on the boy’s jacket. And the poppoppoping and tingtingting of the gunfire around them is drowned out completely by the aching, brittle snap, snap, snapping. 

“Oh fuck,” Remus grounds out just as the railing and the ancient wooden floors splinter under his and the kid’s combined weight and Remus plunges into a freefall that tastes like a thunderstorm at 3AM.

[Next Chapter]

[dandelionandkrindle]

posting this here under a cut instead of on r/trans where it probably should be (but i can't stand reddit), in the vague hopes someone can give me some kind of advice.

so my gf is currently transitioning and has basically told me that she doesn't feel like she should be dating anyone while she's experiencing intense gender dysphoria and related depression. she's just started hrt this month but probably won't be able to afford and schedule her surgeries for another couple of months at least. she's also not publicly out (just to friends and family but her family is....not great about it) and i know she's scared to be out because where she currently lives isn't a safe country for trans people (which is like an oxymoron but some places are Worse y'know).

we're still in contact but she's slowly shut down more and more and thinks that she's dragging me down or holding me back from being with someone better (even though i've assured her that's not the case). i've always been super affirming regarding her appearance and that helped initially but it's at a point where she just doesn't believe me and then she feels bad for that. she also completely refuses financial help and says it makes her feel like a burden etc. right now i'm just sending the occasional supportive text, i don't want to smother her, but i do worry she'll cut me off completely out of some misguided idea that i'm better off without her.

i've been educating myself as much as possible on transitioning and dysphoria, i wrote her a list of things she might like to try even just at home like femme outfit ideas, hairstyles, makeup tips etc. things that might give her those more euphoric moments. i've sent her flowers, bought her 'feminine' gifts, talked about braiding her hair, going shopping with her etc. all the stuff i know she's sad she missed out on from being closeted. but it's really hard in a long-distance relationship to help her in a more material way. she won't be able to move until the end of this year at least and i guess i'm scared abt what might happen in that time.

i told her i'm happy to wait, months, or years even, until she feels ready to be with me. it doesn't matter because it feels like i've been waiting my whole life for her, what's a couple of years compared to that. i just don't know what else i can do in the meantime, short of getting on a plane and being there for her irl for a few days or a week at least but she completely shut that idea down and i know she's scared that i'm not going to enjoy being with her in person especially when she hates herself so much right now.

which is ????? to me. she's so sweet and kind and she's said the most insanely romantic things to me, she's clever and funny (my lil comedian fr) and she looks like a fucking model LIKE it's honestly incomprehensible that a girl like this calls herself trash. but at the same time, i know from childhood trauma and years of depression/suicidal ideation how easy it is to hate every part of yourself to the point you wish you were never born. and that makes my heart ache for her so much and makes me wish i could help even more. i just feel like i need direction, am i doing the right things could i be doing more is being here for her enough. i just don't know.

[positivelybeastly]

Hi!! Is me, Stray! After many a trial and error, I now have an RP blog! Just letting you know I'm here and, uh, favorite music genres & favorite song headcanons for Hank?

Welcome to the roleplaying community! There's always a few ups and downs when you're first getting set up, especially if you've only ever set up the one Tumblr for personal use, but there's always room to learn, and I find that people tend to be generally pretty accommodating if you're as polite as you've been on Anon! If you have any questions about roleplay etiquette or the like, feel free to send another ask or just IM me.

As for favourite music genres and song headcanons for Hank, I generally think he's a pretty open minded fellow? There are a good few bands and types of music we know for certain that he enjoys.

Jocko Homo, by Devo.

Dead Man's Party, by Oingo Boingo.

Chopin's Nocturne.

60s rock! I can see him being a Creedence Clearwater Revival kinda guy.

Acis and Galatea!

The Rolling Stones!

Something you'll often see assumed of Hank is that just because he's a man of the arts, well read, and eloquent, is that he's some kind of music snob, that he only listens to opera, that he only enjoys classical, that he looks down on 'lesser' forms of music. And I honestly just don't believe that would be the case?

Like . . . here's the thing. Hank may talk fancy, but he is still, at best, a middle class farm boy from Illinois. If he has an accent, it's probably closest to a Chicago accent, if he hasn't trained his voice to do something entirely different - he does mention his voice has changed during his feline mutation to a baritone, so it's not out of the question. But he is not (or at least, he should not be) a hoity toity snooty asshole.

This is something even writers often get wrong about him - they assume that he's the smart character, ergo he must be the snooty, elitist character, which is something Ben Percy leans into, but it's not even just him, it's Paul Di Filippo in X-Men Unlimited vol. 2 #8, too. It becomes an asshole trait, and it's just. Not. Accurate.

Hank likes all kinds of music. In fact, I struggle to think of a kind he's outright stated he hates, though he's been around for 60 years, I'm sure someone can correct me. He's a curious fellow! He likes to explore! He'll consume any media, he quotes 1940s Superman comics, he watches Robin Hood movies with Wonder Man, why in god's name would he be a snob?

As for headcanon? I have tons! I often think, hmm, this feels like a song Hank would like, or a song that feels like a Hank song, when I listen to music, because. You know. Big blue guy's p much always on the brain.

I have a Spotify playlist that I occasionally add to, but currently on there is:

Is She Really Going Out With Him? by Joe Jackson - self deprecating, but also kind of a banger.

Carry on by fun - fun is an amazing band, and I definitely feel the lyricism and scale of their music would appeal to Hank.

Rain on Me by Lady Gaga and Ariana Grande - I don't know if Hank would listen to this, but it has his vibe.

Cells by They Might Be Giants - I'm sorry, but have you fucking heard a band that more encapsulates Hank's personality?

Dr. Wanna Do by Caro Emerald - my old Abigail RP partner used to use this as her ringtone for Hank. I think Hank likes some jazz.

Cure for Me by Aurora - again, not one I think Hank would listen to, but again, it feels like Hank to me.

Very Good Advice by Robert Smith - Hank totally digs new wave and the Cure, and literary references mixed in with that vibe? Totally.

Moonshine by Caravan Palace - this song leads into Lone Digger by the same band, which I put on Dark Beast's playlist, representing the continuity between them. It has the right energy.

There Ain't Half Been Some Clever Bastards by Ian Dury and the Blockheads - songs Hank would sing in the middle of the fight if it weren't full of swearing and comics were allowed to do that.

I Want You to Want Me by Cheap Trick - he does.

On Melancholy Hill by Gorillaz - this just has exactly the right energy.

I Will Dare by The Replacements - "How smart are you? / How dumb am I? / Don't count any of my advice. / Oh, meet me any place or anywhere or anytime / Now I don't care, meet me tonight / If you will dare, I might dare."

Anti-Hero by Taylor Swift - another one that doesn't feel quite like something Hank would listen to, but I think we can all relate to this song a little bit (does that make me a basic bitch? Maybe), and some of the lyrics are so awfully Hank. "I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror," like, fuck.

Turning Japanese by The Vapors - Iunno, I just think he'd like it. I often think that if I were gonna make an OG X-Factor movie, this is what would start the movie during a fight scene.

I would also like to give @brw a shoutout for their excellent Hank playlist, which introduced me to, among other things, Touch-Tone Telephone, which feels like Hank's theme song.

Oh, also, The Plastic Age by The Buggles. Hank absolutely loves prog-rock, you know he does. Oh, and showtunes! The man just will not stop singing, in the middle of fights or while being filmed for the nightly news, so he totally vibes with some Broadway. I'd also be lying if I said that Dust and Ashes doesn't feel like a New X-Men Grant Morrison Beast vibe all over. And Hank would love it! A musical based on War and Peace? Sign him the fuck up!

[oflolth]

alright so as promised here's a ( very tiny ) rundown on the three muses i'll be focusing on as i get started ! hit me with a like if you'd like to plot with any of them, though i'll be reblogging memes and maybe making some starter calls for them individually as well

SEN ; the dark urge ; half - drow sorcerer ; chaotic neutral.

local bhaalspawn actually did everything right - got that slayer form, unalfira'd alfira, and then, last minute, ended up telling her father to fuck off. the issue with sen is that she is a bit arrogant and somewhat impulsive, and while she does err on the side of chaotic evil at times, she's also sort of into the idea of controlling her own fate, because honestly? she can murder all she likes without bhaal's help. it's a treat in and of itself. she tends to get along best with astarion and lae'zel, but is also, bizarrely, quite fond of halsin. will eat spiders to bother gale. would have gotten along swimmingly with minthara, had they ever met. unlocked achievement: dark urge sort of pretended to try to resist the urge but her heart wasn't in it.

NATHBRYN ; cleric of lolth ; true neutral. had the potential to be good, maybe.

she's actually not really that evil - or wouldn't be, were she not so fond of the queen of spiders - and her actions in game halfway reflect that. she tends to take the right path only when lolth's influence doesn't sway her. this is particularly glaring in the case of shadowheart and her devotion to shar - nathbryn is quite supportive when she perhaps should not be. sorry, aylin. really. istvan is her terrible little brother that she hates. ( thanks to @vlaakithswill for that idea. ) she is a war cleric, and tends to wield a halberd and wear heavy armour. she adores spiders, centipedes, and misses the underdark. ( her brother does not miss the underdark. wonder why. ) she gets along very well with wyll, and with gale - she was a wizard in another life lmfao - but honestly, around camp, doesn't tend towards making enemies. she can be very intense, though.

ISTVAN ; barbarian ( of lolth ? ) ; unfortunately for him, chaotic good. good because he's good, and chaotic because... look, he has good ideas sometimes. he's clever in his own bizarre little way. but. but.

i've actually played the least on him and he's still sort of slowly taking shape but i will say. i don't think lolth wants him. he wishes, though! but yeah honestly his arc is very much ' area man trying really hard to be villainous & slowly realizing he doesn't have it in him. ' i think after his first tadpole'd taste of freedom, odds of him never willingly returning to the underdark went sky high. he's a mountain pass fan. gets along great with karlach, would fear minthara if he ever met her. which, wait. he has. so yeah, he fears minthara. he is really tall.

[evansbby]

Hey, okay so I’ve rewatched Vanderpump rules by myself a couple times but I’m rewatching it with my mom and it’s kinda cool to see someone else’s perspective watching and their opinions without knowing what’s going to happen and that’s kinda how I feel with you right now LOL like I’m checking your blog ever day for VPR updates 🤭

Anyway, I like Ariana a lot now but I didn’t like her in the beginning. I’m not going to spoil anything but I will say that I don’t think Ariana personality type was made for reality tv unlike Stassi and I think that Ariana revels a lot about herself later on that might make certain things she done more understandable if that makes sense? I relate to Ariana in terms of being more introverted however I agree with you that she kind of let Sandoval go crazy to women and scream at them and just kind of turned a blind eye which is never okay but the blame for that behaviour should be more on Sandoval. I do think Ariana grows on more people as the series continues but your opinions on her in the earlier season are so valid and honestly, even if you never like her that’s okay too she not for everyone

I also am curious about your opinions on Lala?

-🫧

I knew from the get go that Ariana’s personality just isn’t made for reality tv like she’s literally just so blah. Which is why it’s annoying that she’s on my screen five seasons in and she will continue being there. And I’m not saying it’s her fault that she doesn’t contain her misogynistic boyfriend’s behaviour, my point is that she turned a blind eye to it which says A LOT about her. So i just don’t find it in me to sympathise with her. She just wants to be seen as the “cool, chill girlfriend” so she’s 1000% given him a pass for cheating with Miami Girl. So then why am I supposed to suddenly feel sorry for her when he cheats on her in the future with Raquel? Like I couldn’t give a single fuck lol.

Girls like Scheana and Ariana can never be trusted. Honestly I’d trust Lala over them two. So far, I think Lala really really admires Stassi and wants to be like her, but she just isn’t as clever or sharp. I think Lala in season 5 just wants to fit in and she lashes out and gets mean when she doesn’t fit in. As for the other two, I’ve seen girls like Scheana and Ariana in real life.

Scheana has such a deep rooted insecurity that she wants to be liked by everyone, so she does all that neutral bullshit. But you can tell she wants you to be best friends with the trio of Stassi, Katie and Kristen — she just doesn’t want the heat that comes with it. So she’d rather throw those three under the bus and watch them get crucified by everyone, and claim she’s neutral and “scared of them.” Which is such bullshit. Like in private she bitches with the trio about Lala and agrees with what they say, but when it’s time to answer to it, she lets the trio burn in flames all like “omg I was forced to agree with you” like shut the fuck up Scheana. And to think I felt sorry for her in the beginning of season 5, bc I genuinely thought the trio was being mean to her. But the trio are such fierce girl’s girls and it’s so clear the way Bravo edits stuff to make them out to be villains, you can’t even trust it. You could tell Scheana was getting the heroic edit and she just doesn’t deserve it. She’s fake and cannot hold down deep friendships with anyone, it’s all surface level friendships. And this stems from her own insecurity.

As for Ariana, I know her type too. She’s the type who thinks she’s better than all the other girls, and looks down on them for being “bitchy” and “emotional” but like… what she doesn’t realise is that when the going gets tough… all these men she claims are her besties will not be there for her. But the girls will. Instead of understanding the girls and not villainising them, Ariana very rudely just thinks she’s above them. And for someone who calls herself such a huge feminist, it’s sad to see her not only hating on strong, opinionated women on the show, but also turning a blind eye to her own misogynistic, sexist, woman-hating boyfriend. Who ends up cheating on her anyways about five years into the future lol. Ariana is a woman if she was written by a man — aka a woman who acts all “chill” and doesn’t call men out on their bullshit, isn’t “overly emotional” and always sides with the men’s opinions. That’s why she’s palatable to men and they want her around them. The loser men on this show just don’t want to be called out on their bullshit, which is why they gas up Ariana so much and try to discredit the trio so much.

And speaking of Sandoval, I hate him so much. He always sticks his nose where it doesn’t belong. I used to find him so cute in the early seasons but now it’s just painful and irritating to watch him go after Katie/Stassi/Kristen every single reunion. He has some deep-seated hatred for women that needs to be studied. Like genuinely he needs to be studied. He rides so hard for his boy Schwartz that all logic and reasoning goes out the window for him. I genuinely feel like he has some sort of feelings for Schwartz that he needs to navigate through. Also every time Sandoval cries it looks so fucking fake. Like I hate this man. I despise this man and nothing he could do is genuine. I feel like Ariana would blossom without him.

[cantstoptheimagines]

just finished watching journey to bethlehem so i could see milo manheim and uhhh... here are my “train of thoughts” notes, meaning there is literally no organization here

@multifandomsimagine must hate me rn because i basically gave her a play by play of the entire movie bc it's just so campy. it's literally just a bible dcom to be quite honest. (also i am officially campaigning for milo manheim to play flynn rider and it’s all based on his role as joseph alone) 💀

They think I wouldn’t notice the inclusion of a Pair of Kings actor, but I did

Not even two minutes in, I can already tell this movie is going to be fucking hilarious

The narration sucks, it’s so bland

Why is the “Journey to Bethlehem” song suddenly a pop ballad?

The costuming is okay, but the language is so modern. This feels like a play written by TikTok

The first song is a bop

The facial expressions so far are very bland

I feel like it’s trying to provide some feminism anecdotes, which I find very interesting. Not what I expected at all to be honest

Feels like a play you’d do in high school for extra drama club credits

Joseph is literally just Wally Clark if he were in a Bible study club

I genuinely can’t tell if this is meant to be satirical or not

I’m living for Puss in Boots as an evil king, iconic

Good to Be King is the ultimate showtime villain song. I will die on this hill

Love the choreography in this villain song. Love men who can dance in sync while stomping their armored boots

THE SNAPPER LIGHTS, I’M CRYING

Love Mary’s betrothal outfit

This dialogue is so fucking funny and for what reason?!

Office camera glance

I really like the shot of them behind the water wheel thing, it’s gorgeous

His hand is so much bigger than hers, oh my god

Gabriel. Iconic. Hilarious.

Far more Mary centered than I expected. It’s definitely her movie

Camera work during Mother to a Savior is beautiful

Love the map graphics

That cut from Mary/Elizabeth to Joseph. The editing in this movie is so smooth

Good Joseph, Bad Joseph. Why is he dressed like evil Legolas? Their outfits are giving Anakin and Padme

The Ultimate Deception is definitely one of the best songs. Joseph fighting against himself in his own subconscious, singing a duet with himself! Are you kidding me?!

Officially considering Joseph fanfiction

The Magi are everything musical theatre needs right now

The donkey as a running joke lol

We Become We is a love song for the ages, try to prove me wrong, I dare you

Dancing with the fireflies?!!!!!! When will it be my turn

The way she turned her head away, this is so funny oh my god

A prince with daddy issues?! Guess I found my husband for this movie. He has a great song, definitely one of the best but it’s probably the least promoted. I’ve never even heard it before even though it’s so good

Why wouldn’t you just lie about where you’re from lol, am I missing something with that part?

Joseph jumping into action after Mary says she wasn’t the only one chosen for this. We love a Milo Manheim character

“we’re meeting the lord, surrounded by sheep shit” lmaooo

Mary and Joseph are just the smart girl, dumb boyfriend trope and I love them for it

Joseph carrying her through the streets. He should’ve been a girl dad

Bro just got knocked out by a donkey lmao

Silent Night scene with a donkey pacing outside the barn where Mary is giving birth is honestly great

A shining light over the world with an angel choir concert glowing and sparkling in the sky, hot damn, who would’ve imagined

“I’m holding all the answers in my arms” is such a good lyric

“Mine is the kingdom, mine is the power, mine is the glory forevermore” changing into “thine” was a pretty clever idea

Joseph kissing Mary’s head!!! STOP WHY AM I SHIPPING BIBLICAL FIGURES

“One who has come to save the lost.” “Am I lost?”

“You are not your father” CALL OUT THOSE DADDY ISSUES, MARY

Damn, ok, Antipater

*finally kisses Joseph* “You’re welcome” WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN

Stay for the end credits just to hear Brand New Life, it’s a great song too. The credits also feature Go Tell It On The Mountain

Would I be weird if I wrote fics for this movie lmao

[lavender-descendentheart]

Ya know I will once again come out of my little Void of nothing to talk about to talk about the thing that grinds our gears once more and also maybe write a little ready? No? Fuck it here we go

so LBD, we already know her the best villain the show had the one who got offed rather unceremoniously honestly Only one who got done as dirty as she was happened to be poor Azure poor boy now anyway I’ve been up many a night wondering with embrace your destiny how and why wukong showed that much fear when she showed up and why her motives in the end were inconsistent with her prior characterization with the whole “I will Rip the memory of you from this World” being before the special her Goal but hey I don’t write the show pretty obviously of course macaque didn’t get any proper karma but I digress pretty sure we know that show and special LBD are two different people but hey let’s try to merge the Sadistic memory eraser with the woobie sad woman who needed cuddles!

so like we know these two let’s not get into it cause this is just a random post I made after listening to a bloody animatic and is not worth that much effort when the fanbase for this bone woman is squarely in the large enough to fill a table at a restaurant level of size. Now personally I could just merge the two characters as LBD once being like any other demon perhaps even more unusually evil then others before she met people that caused her to change for the better now personally I suggest the old woman man and the young girl disguises she used as said individuals with a interaction like this.

she could connect with humans more and slowly change for the better making the inevitable blow that their deaths gave hit all the deeper especially if you assume she takes the forms they had at their time of death and that girl looked mighty young (haha I’m so clever making the bone lady probably watch a child die infront of her)

yada yada we already know the gist she tries to help people humans are innately flawed and the Jade emperor is sticking his head so far up and deep in his ass I’m pretty sure it’s making Macaque’s murderboner for wukong look Shallow in comparison blah blah she meets the fool emperor eventually loses patience and the chief of war the eventual Chaotic ghost gremlin pulls a France and Rewards the emperor as he deserves and then we have no concrete info on what happened next cause hey fuck LBD fans who want more of her actually getting screentime and genuine spotlight so all we get is the knowledge that wukong Enslaved to tripitaka(yes it is slavery he is being made to do something under threat of pain that is straight up slavery no matter how you try to spin it)

promptly found her and came into conflict now this is where it’s interesting considering LBD in the show well…she FUCKING HATES wukong so his defeat had to be pretty bad for her but she doesn’t really seem to out of character normally when seeing him hell even accounting the special which made her more panicky and less logical then she normally is still had her relatively Calm so she is obviously still ABSOLUTELY LIVID about it so what made this particular event this rage inducing as Show LBD wanted to Rip the memory of wukong from the world while special LBD wanted…well we actually had no idea what the fuck she wanted as no one said anything and possessing wukong was a Hail Mary she wasn’t expecting so that’s off the table so just gonna merge the two together right about NOW

now let’s say LBD is still very much ax crazy mega demoness but is ya know chilling out even with her going for worldwide plans insert wukong our resident traumatized beat up Golden slave boy who gets treated AWFUL by the fandom and funny enough others in the show for things that aren’t really his fault now let’s say LBD sees it as a normal occurrence a little surprised that the celestial realm is standing in her way as She expected better and more care for mortals then insert what I like to call the “Wukong Fisting Special” that everyone else in the show has experienced which obviously didn’t end well for bone lady here but hey gotta merge them together to get something better right? So let’s do that Let’s say that as Streaking Gold batters down Bones and Pierces through illusions just as he has done to those that were sworn to him a Silverish Blue struck by Grief and Fed up with endless Perdition catches a glimpse of that same Pain she swore to get rid of in the back of his Eyes as she’s struck down like all the other before and after her.

locked away in a cold desolate crypt by a Monk who knows nothing of what she has seen or done to “see” the error of her ways and repent for trying to…end pain and suffering and the last thing she sees is The Same Gold that struck her down not even looking at her as she is entombed Alive but hey there’s still the Violet Shadow she so graciously brought back in exchange for one favor after all surely he wouldn’t leave her to rot after she brought him back to life in exchange for opening a box right? RIGHT? Bing boom bam the slow realization as she Rots alive in that tomb and the inevitable desperate Panic that ensues as she tries to get out before she exhausts what little echoes of her power remain from her fight with Gold and all she can do now is lament her failure and presumably still be aware mentally of the darkness and the noises above and outside her Grave slowly going mad little by little piece by piece chipping away leaving her delirious confused and most of all ANGRY when she finally is unleashed taking cold Vengeance and merging it with Compassionate Grief until you get the Sadistic Silver of the Show tinted with the Blue Misery of the Special

yeah yeah way with words

we fucking love LBD and that’s our daily post now time to lament the lack of fanart for her and expand that damn au

[des-no9]

8, 15, 27 for the BG3 character meme!

8: Who are they suspicious of?

Apart from the obvious-

Anyone that's...proud and loud with their kindness and goodness. It feels insincere to her. Despite Wyll being genuine of heart and doing his best, having his kind nature taken advantage of when so young, she doesn't really trust that good heart nobility type - it's mostly just a leftover scar from her past really. Comfort more in what she knows.

But saying that, she's also suspicious of Astarion, only because he's a fucking mirror to her. She knows him because she was/is him, and was groomed by someone like him, worse than him. In that vein, she also feels an affinity with him, a connection. But she has to be so careful with her relationship with him, because they enable eachother, in the worst ways.

15: What NPC's do they like? Which one's do they dislike?

Well, she of course latches onto a lot of the Githyankis. Beyond Voss, she has wide wondrous eyes for Ghustil Sturnugoss, for she sees something very familiar there. Curisoity, wonder, thirst for knowledge and where will it take me. She also sees this in Balthazaar. She'll never really tell anyone this, maybe bar her closest friends, lovers, but some of what she used to do back when she was under Nezarr, years in her cult, was a lot of what Balthazaar did. Seeking immortality, playing with life, unlife. Pushing the boundaries where you don't belong, and composing the hands of gods into your own.

Orin gives her a fucking headache (Vanquish you're such a hypocrite, you can be annoying as fuck too). She loves to mock the shit out of Gortash, but she actually finds him quite endearing and something in her feels like if she really wanted, if she pulled on the lessons Nezarr inadvertantly taught her about power, control, she could make him bend to her, too.

And that kinda scares her.

She thinks Barcus is a hoot! Vanquish loves to talk and thinks he's a sweet, clever, silly little guy. She respects him a lot.

Lucretious. Vanquish is a little starstruck over her, I think.

She's also a little uncomfortable around Dame Alyin, honestly.

27: What was their life like before the events of BG3?"

I've answered this already, but I'll post again!

Lonely, mostly.

Scared, a little.

She'd run away from which was, in essence, a cult. She was the leader's little pet project and special princess. And he'd been playing the long, long game. (Vanquish is a lot older than she appears, mostly because of patron powers and her cult daddy called Nezarr who was like a chosen/avatar of Y'chak).

After running away, her mind kind of...fractured a little. Memories lost - most specifially of Nezarr and who and what he really was and did. He'd made sure to plant that failsafe into her that everytime she successfully fleed from her bonds, she'd forget, but not all. What would linger was that the next time she sees Nezarr, a twinge of comfort stirs in her that she knows him, that he can protect her, she'll be safe with him.

And it starts all over again. For this wasn't the first time she'd gotten free.

But it is the last.

So, freedom. She's trying to make a new life once again (unbeknown to her), scared and lost and well, angry too. So fucking angry.

But...she's also excited. There's a whole world infront of her again. And she's going to make it hers, again. Rage, joy, laughter, love, fear, pain, hate - all of it, and it's hers now. Hers.

Everytime she escapes it gets harder for the failsafe to work properly, and then when she gets tadpoled, it really fucks with the magic he used on her and memories come flooding back in pieces, feelings lost, and so much anger. She remembers her anger now, and what kind of person she used to be, and well, is.

She's my morally grey baby and I love her so much.

[bluewithpurplepolkadots]

Honestly it’s not surprising that Zutar@ manages to fuck up and be annoying to ships that commit the crime of ‘getting in their way’. But it also treats the ships they claim to like along with their own as garbage as well.

I’m talking of course about Taang and Sukka.

I genuinely like Taang myself. A lot actually. At points it’s even my favourite Atla ship.

But you can really really tell when someone doesn’t ship it because they like both Toph and Aang as characters and find their dynamics and backgrounds and even potential spiritual links interesting: but are instead using it as an excuse to get Aang out of the way.

Their barely hidden contempt for Aang especially when they spout tripe like ‘Toph wouldn’t take any crap from him’ . All while posting a fic scenario which has Aang, someone who genuinely tries to understand people most of the time and even has a genuine religious philosophy: instead seem to have an understanding about friendship or forgiveness more akin to a three year old. Or like has shit like momtara and dadko scenarios (excuse me while I throw up) where he sneaks off to date Toph as if he had to ask these KIDS his PEERS his FRIENDS for permission in their deranged nuclear family take on the gaang. Yeah it was a ‘joke’ but they actually think of the gaang as working that way. Fucking straightest fandom imaginable frankly. Can’t think of dynamics in any other way without making some kids into the mother and father.

Because to them Katara and Zuko are 40 to Aang’s 12 I guess. Sure. 👌 Zuko who is ultimately and obviously the least mature member of the gaang. Katara who enjoys having fun and needs to be reconnected to being a kid again and gets that from Aang in the first episode. Sure. Sure. They can’t even fucking have Katara and Aang be the equals and friends they are.

Overall it really makes them show their ass when they attempt to spew out how much better it would be for Aang to be with Toph and this happens. It’s extremely frustrating trying to find Taang content sometimes because for every genuinely good piece you find there’s like five or more of this utter garbage. It leaves me cold honestly. I’m not sure how a genuine Taang shipper could not have at least some contempt for the louder parts of the Zk fandom.

Sukka doesn’t get it much better, though at least they don’t seem to hate one or more of its members. I have to admit I’m not really a fan of Sukka myself. I don’t hate it. The opposite actually. I don’t generally have any strong feelings one way or the other. It’s perfectly inoffensive but I’m not really into it.

But it’s kind of amazing that Zk fans try to say it’s ‘the only good canon ship’ when they make basically next to no art or fics of it apart from being heavily heavily in the background or in group shots.

It’s not the only ‘group ship’ fandom guilty of this mind you. Not even just in this fandom. Hell, arguably and oddly not even the only group that does this with Sukka.

But it’s fucking hilarious how full of shit they are. They don’t make any actual content of it! They don’t actually care for it any more than I do! It just doesn’t get in the way so they leave it alone except to use it to make posts to shit on the (lbr more interesting) Kataang and Maiko. Wild. I mean I don’t care for Tokka much either which sometimes gets thrown in as Maiko and Kataangs group: but at least people seem to actually and genuinely like that ship and have made content for it.

I just sometimes think about when Sokka says ‘You talk too much’ before kissing Suki: which in context isn’t anything to be mad at, clearly. But we all know it would have gotten Aang eviscerated by them if he’d said it to Katara in the exact same context.

Also ZKs would be crowing with glee that ‘See!!! Zuko can’t stand anything coming out of her rancid mouth!!! She’s so abusive!!! He kisses her to shut her up!!!!’ If Zuko had said it to Mai. You’re not slick. You’re not clever. Everyone can see the truth. Sukka is a prop to you and nothing more.

Leave Taang and Sukka out of your ship posts when it’s clear to everyone with a brain cell that you don’t care anything about them. They deserve better. Or at least Taang does. Don’t think I’ve ever seen a single person for whom Sukka is the ultimate ride or die OTP. But they probably exist you know? It’s a decently sized fandom after all. They’re unfortunately probably buried by all your garbage hot takes. And even if I don’t care for it, you’re probably fucking up what could be a fun experience for them.

[tatjana-fantasy]

(Part 4)

I reached Chapter 7 in my replay of The Quarry! Some thoughts:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5

Part 6

I actually really like the first half of the chapter. It’s so interesting to finally find out what happened to Laura and Max, I was quite invested in it!

It’s so fun to pick the meaner responses when talking to Travis :D I love Laura, y’all. She’s a desperate woman in a desperate situation, but she isn’t giving up. I really appreciate that ^_^

One of my favorite scenes is the one where Laura starts talking about what she and Max will do when they get out of here (without knowing that Max got rejected) until Max interrupts her and confesses the truth. It’s so beautiful ;__;

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MIND?” :D And honestly? I’m actually on Ryan’s side here. As a strong skeptic who prefers rational explanations, even seeing Nick wouldn’t completely convince me that fucking werewolves exist. I mean, werewolves! Doesn’t that sound completely ridiculous? Even if you saw the transformation, you probably wouldn’t believe your eyes. Or at least I know I wouldn’t!

I’m so fascinated by Travis’ character. He imprisoned Laura and Max for TWO MONTHS, which is just fucked up. But he isn’t completely evil, and I really like that! For me, gray characters are by far the most intriguing – they are usually not nice people, but that’s exactly what makes me appreciate them as characters ^_^

For science, I’m trying to knock out Travis … oh, it didn’t work :-/ The scene is way better if you play nice with him, imho.

Here, the chapter starts to drag out for me. It’s so long. Looking around in the police station takes forever and the conversations are interesting, but also feel like they could’ve been significantly shortened. I know you can finish the exploration part quickly, but it’s still so … much, y’know? This chapter should’ve been split up in multiple parts throughout all previous chapters. And it obviously should’ve made Max playable!

Immediately deciding to kill Chris without any hesitation is … such an extreme decision, don’t you think? I get where Laura’s coming from, but I’m still shocked by her sudden declaration. If I were Max, I would definitely beg her not to do it …

I love to hate Constance :)

Oh, and I love that infecting characters sometimes guarantees their survival, like with Dylan and Jacob! It’s very clever when you consider the theme of the game, and relaxing for me because I won’t have to worry about their survival anymore :)

The “Hard Pass glitch” still works! :D For those of you who don’t know, by immediately going to the Main Menu after selecting “Move On” and then continuing the game, the “Move On” is counted twice, making it possible to get the “Refused Eliza’s help” trophy even if you don’t get a tarot card in every chapter and/or chose to see a vision once or twice. Certainly helpful if you want to get as many trophies as possible in one playthrough :)

Until next time!

[daincrediblegg]

Hello ❤️ Book ask game!

1, 10, 11, 48 👀👀

1.what is the best book you have ever read? So listen. Listen to me. I have been plugging The Vampire Tapestry to literally anyone who will listen to me ever since I read it. And I will do it again. I cannot express how hard to put down this book was for me (and for someone who is primarily a film/television consumer and an adhd bitch to boot? that says a lot). There are so many things about this book that make my brain go brrr from the atypical vampire narrative (featuring a dilf vampire- and you don't see a lot of those-whose condition is more biological than fantastical, but is nonetheless a complicated mess of a creature), to a really clever drawing back of the curtain and critique of the very genre it's meant to portray, and I literally don't think I'll ever be over it. I almost wanted to kiss my professor on the mouth for assigning this book (but I didn't). I still think about it constantly and I will never stop.

10. what book are you reading right now? I'm... actually reading several in a very asynchronous way. Of course I'm about 100 pages deep into the terror rn, I'm also working my way through May We Be Spared to Meet On Earth (collection of correspondence from members of the franklin expedition- which I'm certain was study material for some of the actors bc I feel like a lot of the letters in that are so clearly reflected in the characters on the show moreso than they are in the book- and honestly every single fucking letter from Francis Crozier is a heartwarming delight deadass). I'm not reading so much this semester but I'll be reading throughout the semester Miyazakiworld: A Life in Art (and it's had some really fascinating little anecdotes so far).

11. what book do you want to read but haven't? I honestly want to read more stuff from Miss Charnas. She fucking understood the assignment on so many levels with Vampire Tapestry that I really want to look into more of her. Ofc I have a ton of Jane Austen and Jane Eyre that are burning a hole in my bookshelf, and a little volume of the Lais of Marie de France that I want to take a more proper gander at. These. And so. SO. Many more. OH AND I FORGOT I also have been dipping my toes into historical erotica like Fanny Hall and it’s been tons of fun (and if anyone has some specific victorian recommendations I would LOVE to receive them- it’s VERY important lady terror research 😉).

48. what book would you give someone if they wanted a glimpse into your psyche? I really do hate to answer Edgar Allan Poe again BUT!!! in specific- I think anyone who wants to understand me and my approach to my writing and stuff? Look no further than The Philosophy of Composition. You wouldn't expect EAP to be such a brilliant essayist as he is but jesus christ I still think it may be the most fascinating and engaging essay I've ever read in my life. He articulates his points so poetically and so well and honestly? There's not a word in that essay that doesn't ring true for me to a lot of how I process things myself in my own writing- and things that are generally just great writing practice- like when I read it for the first time a few years ago I literally went "he's just like me fr" and I've felt soul bonded to the thing ever since. I also gave a presentation on it in my Gothic Lit class last semester that everybody really really liked (and of course. because I really REALLY fucking love this essay and this dude). And honestly I'd love to give that lecture again and I hope I get to.

BOOK ASK BAIT