John J. Rambo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theydrewfirstblood) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2025-02-28 11:03 am
theydrewfirstblood) wrote in ph_logs2025-02-28 11:03 am
will i ever hear your voice again, the darkness is like an old friend...(OPEN)
Who: John Rambo and you!
What: John NOT at Merrymeet--shortly after returning, John discovered his partner, Siebren, was gone, and fresh wounds have been open ever since.
When: During/evening of or after Merrymeet for attendees who want to visit after the event
Where: Baker Ranch
Warning(s): canon typical warnings (PTSD, gun violence, death, etc.), touch starvation
John is grateful to be back, to be home. He's grateful that he is, in fact, still in fact at home. That losing again didn't change that.
That he still feels safe here.
John's currently in the middle of nowhere...sort of. He's a few dozen yards from the house and the workshop, sitting in the grass, watching Co and Bao mill about the grass and wishing he smoked. Or drank any significant amount, drinking might help take the edge off...
He's been a homebody almost since he returned. He can't help it, there's too many memories everywhere he goes, and even Merrymeet--fuck, he'd been looking forward to making some new ones there to heal old wounds, especially as rough as the holidays had been--is too much for him so he stays home.
A year ago, he started losing Sam there. This year, he thought he could salve that ache with some new memories. Dance with Laios and Dahlia, dance with the new Flower Queen...maybe he could even manage to enjoy the food with--
"Siebren."
He breathes the name sharply, sudden, an exhalation after being punched in the stomach. It hurts, losing him. Loving him wasn't just good for John, wasn't just a fresh source of joy, loving him felt good. Sure, love's great, but Siebren? He never looked at him as anything less than an equal in all things. Even intellectually, when in that John couldn't hold a candle to his brilliant, beautiful mind. He fought so hard to protect John from himself, saw so much good in him he walked into a personal darkness he feared to protect him.
Siebren loved him in a way few people ever had, and John loved--loves him--in a way he's afraid he'll never find again. All the hope his affection for Co Bao presented, all the fragile and precious purity he found in falling for Laios, with nuance and an understanding of personal darkness existing between them that made John realize just how good this strange and wonderful foray into having multiple partners was for him.
Now, that's gone--and he swore he'd tear the whole damn universe apart to get him back. To find him, no matter where he might be. It's a promise he will keep--but it's a promise he can't keep the way he wants to, which is fucking now. To hold him again, kiss that perfect, prominent nose and those cheekbones, to feel the weight of his power and the safety of being held by him again.
Today, with Merrymeet happening and a relatively empty house...it's too much. The bed he made love to Siebren in, the house he floated around in when he visited, the porch where he caught Siebren sneaking candy into everyone's shoes the day he confessed to loving him for the first time.
John had to leave, to walk until he couldn't find a memory of Siebren in the empty stretch of land.
Now, it's here he sits, keeping Co and Bao close, staring into the middle distance--and just tries not to think at all.
Not of Sam, who he lost last year. Not of Siebren, who he lost this year--and not of his beloved demon genius who risked losing him to save him.
He just tries...not to think. Not to remember.
Not to wish he could forget.
What: John NOT at Merrymeet--shortly after returning, John discovered his partner, Siebren, was gone, and fresh wounds have been open ever since.
When: During/evening of or after Merrymeet for attendees who want to visit after the event
Where: Baker Ranch
Warning(s): canon typical warnings (PTSD, gun violence, death, etc.), touch starvation
John is grateful to be back, to be home. He's grateful that he is, in fact, still in fact at home. That losing again didn't change that.
That he still feels safe here.
John's currently in the middle of nowhere...sort of. He's a few dozen yards from the house and the workshop, sitting in the grass, watching Co and Bao mill about the grass and wishing he smoked. Or drank any significant amount, drinking might help take the edge off...
He's been a homebody almost since he returned. He can't help it, there's too many memories everywhere he goes, and even Merrymeet--fuck, he'd been looking forward to making some new ones there to heal old wounds, especially as rough as the holidays had been--is too much for him so he stays home.
A year ago, he started losing Sam there. This year, he thought he could salve that ache with some new memories. Dance with Laios and Dahlia, dance with the new Flower Queen...maybe he could even manage to enjoy the food with--
"Siebren."
He breathes the name sharply, sudden, an exhalation after being punched in the stomach. It hurts, losing him. Loving him wasn't just good for John, wasn't just a fresh source of joy, loving him felt good. Sure, love's great, but Siebren? He never looked at him as anything less than an equal in all things. Even intellectually, when in that John couldn't hold a candle to his brilliant, beautiful mind. He fought so hard to protect John from himself, saw so much good in him he walked into a personal darkness he feared to protect him.
Siebren loved him in a way few people ever had, and John loved--loves him--in a way he's afraid he'll never find again. All the hope his affection for Co Bao presented, all the fragile and precious purity he found in falling for Laios, with nuance and an understanding of personal darkness existing between them that made John realize just how good this strange and wonderful foray into having multiple partners was for him.
Now, that's gone--and he swore he'd tear the whole damn universe apart to get him back. To find him, no matter where he might be. It's a promise he will keep--but it's a promise he can't keep the way he wants to, which is fucking now. To hold him again, kiss that perfect, prominent nose and those cheekbones, to feel the weight of his power and the safety of being held by him again.
Today, with Merrymeet happening and a relatively empty house...it's too much. The bed he made love to Siebren in, the house he floated around in when he visited, the porch where he caught Siebren sneaking candy into everyone's shoes the day he confessed to loving him for the first time.
John had to leave, to walk until he couldn't find a memory of Siebren in the empty stretch of land.
Now, it's here he sits, keeping Co and Bao close, staring into the middle distance--and just tries not to think at all.
Not of Sam, who he lost last year. Not of Siebren, who he lost this year--and not of his beloved demon genius who risked losing him to save him.
He just tries...not to think. Not to remember.
Not to wish he could forget.
no subject
If Rambo doesn't turn, he'll see the approaching person out of the corner of his eye, and then in more of his periphery as Edgar sits down nearby, still without a word, and rests his folded arms on his drawn-up knees.
no subject
"You should be at Merrymeet, kid." he admonishes without any real force behind it. "Having fun 'n such--and I'm saying that as a follower of Serranai, not just as your..."
...what? Dad? It doesn't feel like something he deserves, so he just lets it dangle and rests his hand on Edgar's head affectionately for a second before releasing his hold.
"What're you doing home early?"
no subject
And he starts taking things out of his pockets, wrapped carefully in napkins: little sandwiches in at least three kinds, three of the eggs in fried-potato nests, a jumble of pastries.
no subject
"You didn't have to do that." he admonishes gently--even as he bumps his shoulder against Edgar's affectionately. "Just 'cause I'm a sad sack doesn't mean anybody else has to be--go back. Have fun...maybe dance with Max 'n tell him I said hi."
no subject
Edgar puts down the last item -- a tiny tart with raspberries nesting in custard -- and gives John the most purely innocent look he can manage. "And you know, if you're not hungry right now, you could always save it for dinner. Who knows when I'm getting home tonight, and that."
no subject
His tone is genuine, emphatic--but he's got no smile, staring down at one of those squares of cake. Picking off a candied cherry blossom, he remembers the taste of sugared violets on his tongue and pops the bloom into his mouth.
There's cold comfort in the fact that it doesn't taste like ash in his mouth.
"Want you kids to be happy." he continues after he swallows, breathing around that strange fresh flavor of flowers and sugar crystals. "You all deserve it--deserve to be loved."
Softer, trying and failing to not be heard...
"Someone ought to be."
no subject
Low: "You know a lot of folks love you too, right?"
no subject
…but it’s not a cure. And, as he shows the sweater to Edgar, he’s not sure how to explain that.
“I’m never gonna be able to get my head all the way around just how much a lot of people here care about me.” He assures him. “I’m learning to see that much. Even now, even when I’m in pain.”
He can’t quite help the way he gathers up the sweater, pulling it against his chest—like someone might yet swoop in and take it away from him. Take Edgar and Radar and Kitty and so many others away from him.
“…but…I’m starting to wonder if there’s limits.” He admits softly. “If there’s a line in the sand…some things folks like me’re not supposed to have. Things…things I’m wrong for even wanting.”
no subject
Like he's not sure yet how to react to that, and wants to be sure before he says anything.