✕┊L E G A C Y ( ♫ )

[franciisbartonarchive]

I’VE MOVED BLOG !!!!

[franciisbartonarchive]

I’VE MOVED BLOG !!!!

[abberaticn-blog]

                      ❝   … fly me up on a silver wing past the black where the sirens sing ; warm me up in a nova’s glow and drop me down to the dream below … ‘cause I’m only a crack in this castle of glass , hardly anything there for you to see ( for you to see ) ; bring me home in a blinding dream, through the secrets that I have seen , wash the sorrow from off my skin and show me how to be whole again ——    ❞

                        PREVIOUSLY FRANCIISBARTON. MOVED. WRITTEN BY BELLA.

[franciisbartonarchive]

      OUT OF CHARACTER !     guys , i think im officially moving da blog to an official one. no longer making it a sideblog so ... keep an eye out u know.

[franciisbartonarchive]

“Champagne?”

@moonbound. not accepting — new years / even starters.

                          curious eyebrow is lifted while blue orbs observes and determines. too many thoughts clash into his head in mere seconds as he spots the champagne-filled flute in the other’s hand. his mouth is pressed in a thin line before one hand is lifted up to take it but , with a hazy resolution weighing on his chest , he doesn’t take the first sip. he swirls the drink , looks at the hint of his reflection and judges silently to himself. about what , however , he’s not entirely sure. he’s hoping that as the year disappears to invite a new one , he could see clearer even in his head.

                            his gaze is naturally dragged to a clock that will determine the hours exactly until the world complete its round before it begins again. a never ending race , he thinks silently to himself ——— poor earth. all it do is move. never once would it quit. and if it would , then poor the people populating the planet. certainly when earth stops moving it wouldn’t serve as a good sign to the human race. francis momentarily takes the time to think how that will go down. the corner of his mouth turns , amused. 

                           the flute is finally lifted to his mouth and , guiltily , he tips it to have a taste. his eyes search for the clock again —— thirty more minutes to go —— and he finally looks to ben , a smirk present over his lips.

                ❛   you’re not planning to get me                 drunk before midnight are you ?  ❜

[franciisbartonarchive]

“I’ve had a glass of champagne, I made my resolution, I watched the clock strike midnight. I’m going to bed.”

@seriadux. not accepting — new years / even starters.

                           head is tilted upwards in a reflex ; surprised at her words. he doesn’t know how had he even manage to hear it as the stars were naturally dimmed while the fireworks take center stage , twirling and dancing across the sky while the people underneath cheer ———— cheer like they would never have for the stars. for a moment , francis pities the galaxies. but that’s okay. francis appreciate the stars when no one couldn’t. stars are one of the things that guarantees the big world back in his actual timeline , when ultronbots still crawl over and forces them to be trapped within their own city. stars are good , he used to think while growing up. stars are pretty.

                               he looks over to her , the pale of his mouth touching the cool glass of the flute as he considers her words. he doesn’t want to be clingy , doesn’t want to beg her no when that’s not what she deserves after practically rescuing him from falling flat into the palm of his own exhaustion. if she wants to go , she may go. by all means , he won’t stop her. but no matter what year , what time , francis is still francis ——— and the words fall without him truly intending them to do so.

                                        ❛   —— and leave me here all alone ?   ❜

                        he sounds teasing and easy , which he thinks , is good. it’s something he definitely recognises for himself. he hopes that’ll never go away. even if the year grows old and the earth rounds just so it could begin anew. the smirk on his lips never left —— he takes a sip of the sweet champagne —— and looks at her again , hoping the fireworks above brings a certain shadow to the way he’s gazing at her, hoping maybe , with one look , she’s convinced to stay. and if that wouldn’t work ...  ❛   at least give me a new years’ kiss , huh ?   ❜

[ourhardlove]

[franciisbartonarchive]

              HEADCANON  !    francis can’t stand extremely loud noises. it reminds him too much of his yells when he’d screamed for dad as dad was taken by ultron. but he also can’t stand when everything’s extremely quiet, like if there’s not a noise at all. it keeps him on a terrible edge — reminded him of times before ultrabots would ambush the scavengers. it will always be a little eerily too quiet before any ambush / sudden attack , and every time he’d lost too many men. what francis truly appreciates is the sound early in the morning when he perches on a high place ( he sees better from a distance ) and there’s either the sound of the bustling city underneath or the birds chirping by. to him , that’s the perfect combination of silence and noise. and yes , he does hide the fact that he actually hates both loud sounds and complete quietness. it’s just something he's really ashamed of.

[franciisbartonarchive]

“We’re headed to Times Square to watch the ball drop. You can tag along if you want.”

@tokillabarton. accepting — new years / eve starters.

                        times square. yes , he’s seen those before. he means — he read about them. there were magazines lining up when you’re in a waiting room , usually ; francis had read about it when he was waiting … for what , he’s not certain now. but he remembers picking a magazine up , and reading over an article as the writer gushes about the hopes of the new year rounding ‘round the corner. he also remembers passing over a shop today , the television never tire of airing out the commotion over a ———— a ball. francis wonders if this is the same ball that barney is talking about.

                    his stance is awkward , and he takes his time answering. not because he’s unintelligent , but because there’s too much stuff he’s reconsidering at this very moment now that the request have come rolling down his paternal uncle’s voice. you want me around ? has been his first question , and yet somehow he can’t find it in himself to ask. it’s out of line , perhaps , and he’s not going to be the person who chases his own uncle away. he also thinks about declining ; recline here to this place and avoids as much noises as possible. ( there’s the thing with him — he can’t be around places that screams , yet when it’s too silent , he’d go crazy as well. there’s no winning with the demons in his head. he’s thought about putting them out , but he honours his father too much to even pick up a knife to end the suffering constantly scratching at his brain. ) 

                       francis thinks. francis thinks a lot. he thinks about everything that could happen , he thinks back if he’s making any sense , and then he rethinks about how his uncle must be unfolding this scene right now. he’s considering everything , and for a moment there , he’d even stop himself to acknowledge about how miraculous thinking works ——— in a span of three seconds , he’s thought of twenty different possibilities , all of which scares him. he doesn’t know what he’s searching for , not exactly ; will he find it if he says yes ?

                                                                     just say yes , he thinks.

                  just say it , and yet —

                               he pauses , hesitates , and repeats barney’s question in his head before his eyes widen slightly , looking at his uncle as though the man in front of him isn’t real. he’s so afraid of his next question , so afraid of the implication behind it —— wonders if this is a joke , if this is just a mispronunciation , wonders if he’s truly ready for what this life might throw at him and he asks ,

                                                                ❛                     we ?   ❜

                     he didn’t know barney had friends.

[franciisbartonarchive]

❛ i’ve had a glasses of champagne, i made my resolution, i watched the clock strike midnight. i’m going to bed.

@avtorden. accepting — new years / eve starters.

                              curiosity. what pitiful , dangerous things as ears are perked up immediately at her words — resolution , she says ; francis hasn’t even bothered to pick up a pen to note what he’s planning to achieve last year , much less the upcoming ones — as blue eyes gazes nearly in a frantic manner , hands slowly plucking out the colorful paper streamers that have entangled itself around his lean body when the countdown zeroes in to nothing , and the world erupts as the year ends itself , and just like that , begins again.

                                 the music is booming , everybody too sweaty or drunk or just high on the excitement , that the world might end right then ,  and yet most would still be bopping around and jumping along ——— feelin’ my way through the darkness , guided by a beating heart ——— it goes , and yes , sure , it’s fucking crowded and apart of francis hates the heat that’s resonating itself because of it , but he likes the human interactions as he tries to squeeze in and keeps up with torunn : more humans mean that the world isn’t truly hopeless , more humans mean that there is much less robots for him to kill , and that’s completely okay with him.

                              he’s about to reach out , takes her elbow and sneakily asks her what her new years resolution is , wonders if he could copy it as his own — he figures it’d be nice to have something to look forward to than not die — before he finally registers her last words and he frowns , but that only lasts for 0.3 seconds , and another smirk stretches over his pale lips. his long strides finally catches up , and he splays a gentle hand down the small of her back , not in a perverted way as a weak attempt to breach some sort of privacy , but more of something that has come way too naturally for him. like he wants to feel her there — her presence — and his palm meets her spine , and suddenly , everything in the world is alright.

                       he grins , his eyes glinting in mischief but truly , he means well.

                                            ❛    i’ll join you   ,    ❜

[franciisbartonarchive]

“We should probably get back to the party.”

@sonofasymbol. accepting — new years / eve starters.

                    fingers thin and long as it encircles the champagne flute while lazy eyes are dragged from the scenery of the land ahead — blackened skies are erupted with random pattern of bright-lit fireworks and while the noise bothers francis , he tries not to let it show. the cold seeps in ; december air has always been less kinder to francis ; but he doesn’t shiver , not even from the cold , or from the increasing absent he starts to feel as james’ footsteps descends from his side , ready to head back in.

                      he flinches when he’s sure james wouldn’t see as another unexpected firework lights up from somewhere and he tries not to match such loud sounds with his own thirteen year old self screaming at a father that has already met his death. he takes another look at the champagne half-gone in his flute , and , with a new year’s resolution , tips his head back and chugs it all down. for a moment , as the sweetening taste trickles along his oesophagus , the noises lows to a definite mute and he is relieved. but it goes away as quickly as it has come , and once again , francis is pulled harshly to the reality.

                      he looks at the scenery again , reconsiders james’ word and doesn’t have the heart to face the other young man when he whispers , 

                                                                 ❛  stay ,❜

                       he feels a little foolish — like a kid asking for an adult to reach for the stars — but he realises that he’s so lonely and it’s been so nice when james had accompanied him out to have a moment alone , away from the drunken crowd , while the world completes its circle and the people of earth welcomes a new , fresh year. he hadn’t kissed james , though he wants to , doesn’t wanna kiss james tonight if he’s drunk ( which he isn’t , not yet anyway ) or when james is drunk ( he’s not sure if the guy could get drunk — francis secretly thinks james can ) but he had reached out for the other’s hand and he brushes his lips along james’ knuckles , like a promise maybe. or something.

                          the smile on his lips feels forcefully desperate as he finally decides to look at james and smiles a little smile. he wants to stay in this moment , he thinks. he feels so young. and james had looked so beautiful with the fireworks’ colours sprinkling itself randomly upon his face. but there’s no such thing. francis is logical. they can’t stay in moments. there’s a reason people celebrate new years , grow old — it’s so to demand people to move the fuck on. they can’t stay. not even if francis could will a thousand stars for them to be able. when he reaches out a hand , it feels clammy and awkward even though he imagines it to be romantic. francis should’ve known better. he knows nothing about being romantic or affectionate ———— he’s a child made out of war. flirting , he can do. kissing , grasping. that , he can manage.

                       but being like this ——— reaching out to just enlace their fingers together ? it seems so small yet such , such a big thing. and oh god , francis is so afraid. he smiles anyway ,    ❛    …stay for a bit , won’t you ? i don’t wanna share you with the crowd just yet ,  ❜  he swallows thickly , and doesn’t know why , amidst happy laughter , he feels so sad.

[cillianhelps-blog]

new year's / new year's eve starters

“New Year’s is always the year’s biggest letdown.”

“So, what are your resolutions?”

“I swear, if I have to hear ‘Auld Lang Syne’ one more time…”

“Hey, sorry, it took me forever to find a place where my cell could get a signal… happy new year’s from [location].”

“What have you accomplished this year?”

“This year sucked. Good riddance.”

“Let’s hope this year goes better than the last one…”

“There’s a party at [name]’s house. You coming?”

“We’re headed to Times Square to watch the ball drop. You can tag along if you want.”

“Hey, last year of [politician your character doesn’t like]!”

“Just think of all the video games and movies that are being released this year…”

“No champagne for me. Designated driver.”

“Giving up chocolate for new year’s? I give it a week.”

“We’ve had a big year.”

“I plan to hit five parties before midnight.”

“3… 2… 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

“Want a party hat?”

“Champagne?”

“Three biggest moments from this year?”

“It’s nearly midnight… have you seen my date?”

“Ah, yes, it’s almost midnight, which no one is going to kiss me at.”

“This time last year, I was living in a motel. This is definitely an improvement.”

“I’ve heard ‘Auld Lang Syne’ six times tonight and it’s only 11:30.”

“And to think, this time last year I was dating you.”

“I need someone to kiss at midnight. You up to it?”

“I need your help. I want to kiss [name] at midnight, and I need you to help me make it happen.”

“It’s New Year’s. Aren’t we supposed to be making out?”

“Oh, God, my ex is here. Pass the champagne.”

“Look, I know you’d rather be in bed, but could you at least pretend to be excited?”

“A toast to my amazing friends, and to the new year!”

“I should’ve been in bed two hours ago.”

“Are you sure [name] is up to stay awake until midnight? I mean, s/he’s only [age]…”

“Psst. Hey. Hey, wake up. It’s midnight. Make your resolutions.”

“I swear, if next New Year’s, we’re in the same place we are now, shoot me. Just do it. I’m serious. Just shoot me.”

“I remember when I’d get so excited for New Year’s…”

“Y'know, New Year’s sort of loses its punch when you stay up until 2 AM every night anyway…”

“I like to think we grew up this year.”

“No firecrackers this year. The neighbors complained.”

“I’m tipsy, covered in streamers, surrounded by hung over people, I have Auld Lang Syne stuck in my head, and I don’t know where my cell phone is. It is New Year’s.”

“You know, under the circumstances, I think this isn’t such a bad impromptu New Year’s party.”

“I can’t believe you gave our son/daughter champagne!”

“Come on, it’s New Year’s Eve, you can’t spend the whole party hiding in the bathroom!”

“How much longer?”

“Any good New Year’s specials on?”

“I’ve had a glass of champagne, I made my resolution, I watched the clock strike midnight. I’m going to bed.”

“You’re crazy. That place is always a zoo on New Year’s.”

“Just pick an outfit so we can go. I mean, it’s just a New Year’s party, it’s not a black-tie event.”

“We should probably get back to the party.”

“What are you doing out here on the roof? The party’s inside.”

“Snow on New Year’s! Wish it had bothered to show up for Christmas…”

“Where’s [name]? S/he’s my ride.”

“I rented a limo. We are arriving to that party in style.”

“To 2015. May it not totally fuck us in the ass.”

[franciisbartonarchive]

        OUT OF CHARACTER.     im here its new year and im ready to start up shit with francis cause i miss lucky blue’s face whatup bitches and lovely cupcakes

[waspheir]

Getting caught was not in Henry’s plans. Or find those things in Francis’s room, but obviously nothing went as planned. The boy knew very well that every one of his brothers was handling the war and the change in their lives in a different way, but he was not expecting something like that of Francis. He looked at for older, thinking of something to say, but as always when he was nervous, nothing came to mind. So all the boy could say was:

“I’m sorry”

[franciisbartonarchive]

                           there’s a few moments in one’s life where everything seems to be slowing down at that particular second before any big life-changing , potentially fatal decisions are to be made. this was one of it. maybe it’s the adrenaline or the frustration — maybe it’s the guilt , even — whatever it is , francis has found it in himself to backtrack his thoughts just slow enough for him to calm himself down , and to rethink : he can’t act aggressive now. it’s not pym’s fault. and it’s not. and it’s not and it’s not and it’s not. 

                   francis takes a deep breath.

               ❛   just put it down ,   ❜   he tells pym at last , his voice low and shameful , but not enough that he considers quitting , before he shrugs ,  ❛  —s’not your fault that m’fucked up , shortstack. s’not anybody’s except ultron. if only we can kill that bastard again , huh ?  ❜  he tries joking , though his words only came out tasting bitter and sad.

[iignisavis-blog]

“ Merry Christmas, you suck,    where’s the alcohol? ”

[franciisbartonarchive]

           ❛   aren’t you , like , twelve ?   ❜

[franciisbartonarchive]

@scxrletisms » bird call !

            ❛   you shouldn’t be here all alone in the dark , dollface.   ❜

[franciisbartonarchive]

@avtorden » bird call !

              ❛   do you think this is a fucking game ?!    ❜

                              anger ; hot , boiling , raw anger are resurfacing on pale skin , reddening what once was his usually ashen expression as cold , dark stare are maintained. he is sick , he thinks — so sick and tired of just keeping his fucking thoughts to himself , but they’re out here in the open , and honestly , there’s no time better than the goddamn present right ?           or so , that’s what he’s been taught ; one finger is up in an accusing manner , pointing straight at her as though he’s putting all of the blame on that lashes to her sharp shoulders — and his words are harsh.

                           ❛    get a hold of yourself. don’t fucking test your mortality when you’re around me. i am not — i repeat — i am not here to pick after your fucking corpse , torunn.   ❜