#au (technically)

Hiccup dressed up as Viggo because

bright colors warning ruh rowh

are burnt, scarred, cut, broken

fingers reset in slightly off ways, too long, too short

diagonal scars, marks, palms divided

showing marks of age

days, weeks, months, years

decades, centuries, millenia

it's been too long, hasn't it?

and still they go around in this dance of theirs

Revolution, golden

Doubt, fallen

were at Troy, magnificent troy, broken and bruised troy

war is a revolution, in some ways, revolt against the status of tentative allies, a revolt for a woman

rome, that city, littered with revolution. tarquin was the first to fall, the last king of the city, too proud, too cruel

Revolution, Blind Justice, danced in the minds of the people, made them rise.

caesar, next, too much like a king, too sharp in his rules

oh, he was killed, revolution immortalised, but

Doubt slipped in, sinuous, mourning, questions and lies

brutus is an.... honourable man.

is he?

revolt tainted, war, civil, bloody, deaths

a thousand-fold, red streets

red country, now, paris, france

they have always been in love, these contradictory two with hands older than their faces

now Revolution stirs the people in gold majesty, quick return after guillotine, quick to anger, quick to fight

Doubt watches from his chair, draws, questions

unhelpful, cynic, but unbelieved even to his own ears

even he hopes it might work this time

for once

let it work

he messes up a thousand easy tasks in the name of love

makes a fool of himself

asks the questions no-one else will

but still these schoolboys, fighters, mad on the summer sun,

still they stay and raise the red flag- a coat-

till the barricade, when no-one comes.

he feels himself more powerful, rejects it, doubt spreads as Doubt mourns

he really thought they could do it this time

but it is his role

will the world remember you if you fall?

they stay

no-one else comes

he sleeps, he cannot bear to watch

but in the end he takes the bullets with Revolution

long live the revolution

Revolution

the Revolution,

god

what else can he do?

they have always been lovers, the two of them

they will wake again, death never sticks to these two

to their weary handprints, red on the wall, old, tired

@bricktober poem, cause i had no story inspiration

Henry was always meant to be 1 of 2.

But the second one was never meant to be Peter. Otherwise it was 1 of 3.

The reason Great Aunt Greta calls him Henrietta?

Henry was a twin. His sister, Henrietta. She died, the first Christmas that Simon and Francesca brought her and Henry home, she wasn't strong enough to weather the storm.

So, Great Aunt Greta couldn't see past this - surely Henrietta was merely playing. Yes, that was it.

Francesca began to grow angry and resentful over the one who lived, and that he's so horrid wasn't helping.

Henry, he always had a piece missing - but he couldn't ever figure out what that was. So he just acted out, making poor decisions. Never knowing he had a twin sister. For years never rising to anything more than a boy with issues he didn't know how to cope with, a family dealing with loss and unable to handle the son left behind when his sister died.

oh yeah it also shows but the character in the bottom left corner is by @/,katiekatdragon27 go check them out

asorryimtooscared to. tag people i need to stay in my Buttarfly Cocoon for a little longer also they were too DRAWABLEE AUUHGHFJGKVKSAAAA

I Will Elaborate on The Two Ocs that are Mine (The Sphere with the outlet on its back andthe stupid dog cuboid thinr) gyeah

ok im rpobably gonna ppst more flatland soon maybe not.Who Knows!😊😊😊😊😊😊😊

They stop recruiting to their cult, take all the golden skull necklaces from their followers, and let them die off, one by one, until none are left. The bishops die too, and the Lamb does not resurrect them. Only they and Narinder are left. The Lamb takes him to the temple and performs a final sacrifice ritual, killing their own god permanently.

The Lamb sits in the meadow among the graves of all their followers. They sit there for three days and nights, unmoving, waiting. Until, at last, the devotion keeping them alive runs out.

The Lamb dies alone in their meadow, unseen and unremembered.