#( muse talk : warren )

[reallyhardy]

was going through some old files and found these cute as hell ~aesthetic~ edits i made for my old XM:A nightcrawler RP blog 🥺 like they're screamingly 2010s but made me feel INCREDIBLY nostalgic.......

[fragmented-tales]

Picrew link

Warren Hyran, son of Captain Link Hyran, is a young boy with unruly blond hair and blue-green eyes. He, despite being a prince, often dresses like that of a common child, claiming other children talk to him more that way, and he is able to fit in. Often seen wearing his father's iconic blue scarf, which is much too long for him.

But, as his father was often stepping away for work, the little "knight in training" would find his way into trouble, accumulating a fair share of scrapes and bruises.

[chase-prairie]

Invasive Species and Xenophobia

Invasive species are complicated! People have a lot of feelings about them, positive and negative. Are plants that move "invaders" "colonizing", "immigrants", "citizens"? What does it mean to kill species that are from somewhere else? What if that species legitimately makes a poor neighbor and causes extinctions in other, native species? This complex, culturally-loaded issue is a foundational issue behind a lot of plant conservation and restoration.

This is a juicy and still actively disputed topic! The Guardian recently had a big article on colonialism in Botany, (tbh her views are dated and reductive, imo) and it’s come up again this week, to much hostility (cw: reddit). Yes, my region's native plant restoration came from literal nazis, but also, the impacts of some invasive species are real, not figments of a racist imagination. How do we balance these issues? What does ethical invasive management look like?

Since it’s such a juicy topic, I wanted to offer a few fun readings to share:

The Native Plant Enthusiasm: Ecological Panacea or Xenophobia?, Gert Gröning and Joachim Wolschke-Bulmahn, 2004, Arnoldia.

THE CLASSIC 20th century German nazis and native plants paper. Made a huge splash when it came out, and you will still encounter people who paint all native plant stuff with this brush. Summary: yeah the nazis loved their native plants and used them as part of their conquering process. Also, the first prairie plantings ever, located in Chicago, were done by a racist probable-nazi for racist reasons, full stop. I’ll let him speak for himself: “The gardens that I created myself shall… be in harmony with their landscape environment and the racial characteristics of its inhabitants. They shall express the spirit of America and therefore shall be free of foreign character as far as possible… the Latin and the Oriental crept and creeps more and more over our land, coming from the South, which is settled by Latin people, and also from other centers of mixed masses of immigrants. The Germanic character of our race, of our cities and settlements was overgrown by foreign character. The Latin spirit has spoiled a lot and still spoils things every day.” - Jens Jensen

Botanical decolonization: rethinking native plants, Tomaz Mastnak, 2014, Environment and Planning D: Society and Space

Rather than viewing native plant plantings as an act of racially-pure occupation, Mastnak positions native plants in California as a decolonization of the sub/urban lawn. Uses a lot of quotations from 16th century English philosopher Francis Bacon, and is heavy on the philosophical musings.

From killing lists to healthy country: Aboriginal approaches to weed control in the Kimberley, Western Australia by Bach et al., 2019, Journal of Environmental Management.

This paper talks through some of the native vs invasive debate, and offers a different perspective on how to approach to plant invasive management based on cultural relations, rather than country of origin or behavior.

Beyond ‘Native V. Alien’: Critiques of the Native/alien Paradigm in the Anthropocene, and Their Implications, Charles R. Warren, 2021, Ethics, Policy, & Environment

DENSE but thorough, if you want to follow the entire history of the native/invasive debate, this has you covered. The most interesting stuff, in my opinion, is the discussion of invasive denialism, IE: the impasse of “You’re just being racist!” Vs “You know nothing about ecology!” I recommend the Discussion, which starts on page 13.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

let the plot bunnies run wild babes

"Eat, guys," you tell them. "I'm just going to change real quick."

"You don't have to-" Vanessa started to protest but you wave off her concerns.

"I like this shirt and I wanna get it in cold water anyway." You answer shrugging. "Eat," you press, "Christ I'm not dying and I refuse to have people go hungry after I cooked all day." You start towards the bedroom and call over your shoulder, "Logan, help yourself to the beer in the fridge. I'd tell Wade to get it but he's shit with bottle openers."

"I have delicate hands," Wade protested.

Logan rolled his eyes but took you up on the offer. It felt weird eating food you cooked while you weren't sitting there. Even if you clearly didn't mind. And it gave him a chance to see more of your space without being weird.

Younger than Wade but more mature somehow. Wade wasn't a slob exactly. But it was clear you were more settled. You wanted stability. Your kitchen wasn't large but you made do and made the most of the space. Photos on the fridge. You with friends. With your brother. Some pretty old. Wade had you on his shoulders in one. You would have been maybe 6 or 7 and you look sick. But at least for then you're beaming. Another is a birthday, Logan assumes. Wade's. You're on one side and Vanessa is on the other kissing his cheeks. You're older. Grown. The childish roundness is gone from your features but there's still puppy fat- you haven't quite grown into yourself yet.

Friends. Parents. Trigger. Wade. All there. But no boyfriends? He heard Vanessa ask about a date but Wade's yammering drowned out your answer. Weird that there wasn't one. You're a cute kid.

He shook his head and grabbed a beer popping the top and putting it in the cup marked "tops only" on the counter that had pop tabs and bottle caps in it. And went back to his seat, relieved when you walked out of the bedroom.

"Much better now that I don't feel like a horror movie extra," you declare, taking a seat.

"Extra?" Wade scoffed. "Butterbean, you're final girl material."

"If I didn't trip and bleed out on a curb first," you muse. "Also I'm not funny and I don't think my boobs are big enough to-"

"Jamie Lee Curtis made it work," Vanessa pointed out.

"Who?" Logan asked.

"You're not the worst Logan, you're just from the worst timeline," you tell him. "Who was in your Halloween movies?"

"In what?"

You blink at him, "Logan, I- I'm stunned. Halloween is only one of the BEST horror movies of all time."

"Bullshit," Wade said.

"Fuck you," you snort, "You think the Warrens actually fought a Ragedy Ann doll."

Logan caught Vanessa's eye when she raised her glass in mock toast with a wink and dug into her own plate and snorted. Taking advantage of the bickering to eat. And he thought, for just a second, that it might kill him. It took actual effort to stifle a moan.

How Wade could talk between bites was baffling. Logan could tell everything was made from scratch- even the noodles. And he couldn't remember the last time he'd had something like that.

Even more impressive was how you managed to argue with your brother and keep plates and glasses full- and keep him from feeling excluded. Even if he never spoke. Your body was never fully angled away and you glanced towards him, unobtrusively fussing. Hostessing properly, he supposed.

"I guess," he said, clearing his throat as he helped you clear plates to make room for the dessert and coffee, "I can stop stabbing Wade in the head."

"I appreciate it," you tell him, smiling a little as you take the plates from his hands.

[darknoverse]

hey gang what if i throw this in your direction?

I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT HIM FOR SO LONG AGAIN I LOVE YOU NOSSY I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUUU

but also know my taste in men is so bad it radiates between the prettiest muse you've ever seen to "would you love me if i was a worm" and he is a worm deadass

please y'all hear me out about Warren he's a really shitty loser but i do wanna kiss him ok ? ok y'all didnt even hear me talk about the money man i mean who said that

also DHMIS s/i ! i think i'll call her Fairly fairy, she talks about fairytales a bit too much

Taglist :

@candyheartedchy @berryshipbasket @radaverse

@tireddovahkiin @bloodhoundini

@lficanthaveloveiwantpower

@rexscanonwife @ree3942

@sunflawyer @artcomestolife

[dodger-chan]

On this, a totally normal day, please enjoy this short scene featuring demon Steve Harrington:

“They’re con artists,” Steve asserted, rolling his eyes. “They’re nothing I need to worry about.”

It wasn’t that Eddie thought Steve was wrong. He’d read a book about their involvement in that possession and murder case in Connecticut five years back. It had certainly read more like fiction to him.

It was just that demons tended towards overconfidence. Or at least Steve did. Maybe that was more of a jock thing than a demon thing.

“You’re bound to the mortal plain by a two-bit ring from a Crackerjack box,” Robin snarked. “Forgive me if I’m a little concerned.”

There was that, too.

“I’ll have you know that ring cost me fifty cents. It’s solid nickel,” Eddie joked. But he kind of agreed with Robin. The ring was a flimsy object, and entirely incongruous with Steve’s preppy look. Even if the couple weren’t practiced demon killers, the ring would be an obvious target.

“So that’s why my finger keeps turning green,” Steve mused. “Look, I can’t let this stand, but one of you can wear the ring until they’re gone, okay?”

-------

Which was how Edde found himself twisting his old ouroboros ring around his finger, sitting in a diner booth across from Robin. Stealthily watching the demon hunters eat their lunch. Waiting for Steve to arrive. The wait wasn’t long, but it was tense.

Steve ignored them when he walked in, only paying attention to the couple seated behind them. Robin leaned forward and stole some of Eddie’s french fries.

“I think we’re in trouble,” she whispered. She was only half joking. They weren’t supposed to be there; Steve didn’t want either of them associated with a demon. But Robin was not about to let Steve face even fake demon hunters completely alone. And - coward or not - neither was Eddie.

He shushed her, keeping an eye on Steve as he sat down at the hunters’ table.

“I read the contract you signed with Susan Mayfield. Book rights to her daughter's story for a flat fee? Seriously? My deals are more fair.” Steve was facing away from them, so Eddie had to imagine the smug expression on his face. The older couple looked confused.

“Your deals?” The man asked, like maybe he hadn’t put it together yet.

“I’m sitting here right in front of you and you still have no idea.” Steve shook his head. “And you call yourself demon hunters. I knew you were just con artists.”

Understanding dawn on the woman first.

“You’re the demon,” she said, fear in her voice. “The one who killed those kids.”

“I am a demon. But no, I haven’t killed any kids in Hawkins,” Steve corrected. “Those three dead kids, the Mayfield girl’s injuries, that really was a human. People can be evil all on their own, you know.”

“Why should we believe you?” the man asked. He didn’t appear as afraid as his wife, but Eddie was an expert on posturing. The guy was about thirty seconds away from shitting his pants.

“Believe, don’t believe. I don’t give a fuck. I’m not here to keep you from writing your little book and ripping off the American public with your absolutely true demon stories.” Eddie would bet good money Steve was rolling his eyes. “I’m here about this.”

Robin nearly turned around to see what Steve was holding even though she knew what it would be. Eddie kicked her ankle and she turned back.

“You see,” Steve went on, “I made a deal with the Mayfield girl’s brother. It means I owe her a certain amount of protection. So this contract you sweet-talked her mom into signing? We’re going to rework the terms. I’m thinking percent off the gross?”

-----------

Notes:

"that possession and murder case" refers to the Arne Johnson murder trial, where the defense tried to argue the killer had been possessed by a demon. The book was titled The Devil in Connecticut and published in 1983. It's also the inspiration for one of the Conjuring films.

Allegedly (and I'm not doing enough research to confirm it because this six hundred word story has enough notes already) the Warrens paid people flat fees for the rights to their stories and then made bank themselves off of books and films about the 'hauntings' and 'possessions.' Frankly, everything I've read about them makes them sound like unscrupulous con artists.

"two-bit ring from a cracker jack box" is a reference to a Firesign Theatre sketch (The Further Adventures of Nick Danger) released in 1969; Robin knows it from her parents.

Two-bit means cheap in general, but also two-bits refers to a quarter, so when Eddie says he paid fifty cents for the ring he's saying it cost twice as much as Robin implied (still pretty cheap)

I doubt Eddie knows for sure what alloy any of his rings are made of, but cheap jewelry often contains nickel, and nickel can turn your skin green.

"percent off the gross" is revenue percentage rather than a percentage of the profit, so Max can't be cheated out of money via creative accounting.

[ssweeterthanfiction]

Wait for your love.

content warnings (for the whole series): mentions of drugs and alcohol, age gap, gaslighting, billy being TOXICCCCC, mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts, mental health issues

↳ currently playing ;

Aurora (interlude) - 1977

1:56 ——————•———— 3:24

↺       <<         ll          >>    ⋮≡

In July of 1977, Y/N L/N disappeared from the public eye.

Karen: "After visiting her empty apartment, Billy was a mess. We all were really. Even though she wasn't apart of the band, she was always around, always at the house, always at parties with us, always at the studio, she was just always there."

Eddie: "Her presence was something that just- lightened up the room. She was like a breath of fresh air, like the light in our lives."

"Even when she was falling apart, she was just...always there to brighten up any room."

Warren: "We all missed her- what's a good word for this...her sparkle? I dunno. But we all just really missed her. Billy especially."

Graham: "He was always in a mood. For the first like- two weeks she was gone, he was sad. He refused to talk to anyone. He refused to get out of bed. He refused to go out. He refused to go to the studio."

"Hell, I think he even refused to even speak to Teddy when he came by the house. But...Teddy, as always, knew how to get Billy off his ass.

   🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

Karen opened the door before Teddy even knocked, her expression a mix of relief and exasperation. "Thank God you’re here. He’s upstairs," she says, gesturing inside.

"Has he even come down today?" Teddy asks.

Karen shakes her head and sighs, "He hasn't come down at all. He won't talk to anyone Teddy."

Teddy nods and starts making his way to Billy's room. Once he reached it, he paused outside, raising his fist to knock but hesitated when he heard the faint strum of a guitar.

Knocking lightly, he pushed the door open to find Billy sitting on the edge of his unmade bed, guitar in hand. His hair was disheveled and his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep, or crying.

"Billy," Teddy says, stepping into the room.

Billy didn’t look up, his fingers idly plucking at the guitar strings. "Not in the mood, Teddy," he mutters.

Teddy pulled a chair from the corner and sat down, crossing his arms. "Too bad, 'cause I didn’t drive all the way up here for nothing. Talk to me, man."

"What do you want me to say? She’s gone, Teddy. She just disappeared. She's gone."

"Yeah, and the world didn’t stop spinning. The band didn’t stop playing. You think this is what she’d want? You wasting away in this room, feeling sorry for yourself?"

Billy’s jaw tightened. "You don’t get it. She’s not just some girl. She was... everything."

Teddy leaned forward, his voice firm but calm. "I know that, Billy. Hell, everyone knows that. But you’re not doing yourself or anyone any favors by shutting down like this. You’ve got a band depending on you, fans waiting for something new. You think she’d want you to throw all of that away?"

"I don't know what she'd want." Billy stared at the guitar in his hands, his knuckles white as he gripped the neck. "I can’t write without her, Teddy. She was my muse. She was my anchor. Every word, every note, it was all for her."

"You didn't treat her like it."

Billy finally looks up, his eyes completely red and puffy. "I didn't-" he starts, his voice cracking, "I didn't mean to treat her like that." he says, looking back down.

"I don't know what to write without her Teddy. I don't."

"Then write about this. About how you feel, about missing her. Turn all this pain into something real. That’s what you do, man. You turn the worst parts of life into something beautiful. Don’t let this break you."

Billy didn’t respond, but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. Teddy took it as a small victory.

"I’ll leave these here," Teddy said, setting the tapes on the desk. "Whenever you’re ready, we’ll get back to work. But don’t take too long, Billy. Life’s not gonna wait for you."

   🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

Warren: "Thank fucking god for Teddy. Sure not everything went back to normal, Y/N was still gone. But Billy slowly started getting back to work."

Eddie: "When Billy did get back to "work", he was...really difficult to work with."

Karen: "He was never in a good mood. Never. He was always either super pissed off or super sad. Absolutely no in between. And he was always mad at someone."

Graham: "There was the one time where while we were recording, and I guess no one had told Daisy about...the incident."

Daisy: "I'd just gotten back from Greece when all this happened. So...I was basically walking in blind."

Graham: "She had ask where Y/N was, and...I don't think I've ever seen Billy act the way he did before."

Karen: "Bad timing. Really bad timing."

Graham: "Billy just... snapped. Slammed his guitar down, started yelling. Told Daisy to ‘mind her own damn business’ and that she didn’t know anything about anything."

Daisy: "I don’t scare easy, but... the look in his eyes? It wasn’t just anger. It was hurt. Like the kind of hurt you can’t hide no matter how hard you try."

Warren: "We all froze. I mean, what do you even do when someone is losing it like that? Do you tell him to chill out? Do you just let it happen?"

Eddie: "I told him to calm the fuck down. That went about as well as you’d expect."

Karen: "He cursed Eddie out before storming out of the studio." "And the next day? He came back like nothing happened."

Graham: "The in studio breakdowns never stopped. But everytime one would happen and he would storm out of the studio mid session, when he'd come back he'd have a song written. Always."

"But he really was such a pain in the ass to work with."

  🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

The band was mid-session, the air thick with cigarette smoke and tension. Billy paced the room, muttering to himself as the others exchanged uneasy glances.

"That riff," Billy said suddenly, spinning around to face Eddie. "Play it again. The one you just did. It’s not right."

Eddie sighed, clearly frustrated. "What do you mean, it’s not right? I’ve played it the same way five times now."

"It’s flat," Billy snapped. "It’s lifeless. Do it again, but this time, actually feel it."

Karen pinched the bridge of her nose. "Billy, we’ve been at this for hours. Maybe we need a break."

"We don’t need a break!" Billy barked, slamming his fist on the console. "We need this to be perfect. She deserves perfect."

The room went silent. No one needed to ask who "she" was. But everyone knew.

Teddy, leaning against the doorway, cleared his throat. "Billy, why don’t you take five?"

Billy glared at him. "I don’t need five. I need people who know how to fucking play."

Eddie stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "You know what, man? Screw you. We’re all busting our asses here, and you’re acting like we’re the problem. Maybe look in the mirror for once."

Billy’s face darkened, and for a moment, it looked like he might explode. But instead, he grabbed his guitar, slung it over his shoulder, and walked out without another word.

🎶 .·:¨🎶💋🎶¨:·. 🎶

Karen: "That night, he came back with a new song. It was rough, but you could tell it was special. Teddy stayed at the studio late and stayed up with him all night working on it. The next morning, we laid down the first track for Aurora."

Warren: "That’s how it went. Every breakdown, every fight—it all fed into the music. It’s why Aurora feels the way it does. It’s raw, it’s messy, and it’s beautiful. Just like him. Just like her. Just like all of us." He pauses then laughs. "But while Billy was basically writing a love letter/apology letter to Y/N, she was writing possibly the BIGGEST fuck you album to him." "But I don't blame her. Not at all." "Because even though he was writing Aurora as an apology to her, he still found a way to fuck shit up."

A/N: me when i lied about last chapter being the last 1977 chapter...WHOOPS!

anyways, SUPPERRRRR short chapter, sort of...setting the stage for reader's comeback AND I SWEAR THAT CHAPTER WILL BE OUT SOON!!! I PROMISE I PROMISE. anyways, i hope u guys enjoyed this short lil chapter!!! love you all so much <3

[metalhead-painter]

❝And we're gonna get high-igh-igh, when we're low, low, low. The fire burns from better days. And she screamed, "Why, oh, why?" I said, "I don't know" The catastrophic hymns from yesterday... Of misery❞

Hey! I'm Warren Taylor, I got tumblr because I was told it was a way to get my art out there, I've been lurking on the site for a while now but I've never really gotten the time to make an account. I am here now though. I'm a self proclaimed artist, I like to paint and sketch, I also love many forms of music, metal being my preferred genre, I don't play an instrument just yet but I'd love to learn how to play the drums, I think that'd be fun. I'm an absolute piercing maniac, with over 20 and counting, I'm moving onto tattoos pretty soon.. I'm a big motorbike fan and own a Harley of my own.. But! Moving on before I start rambling.

Enough about my interests, more about me. I'm 21, pansexual and go by he/him.. Though to be completely honest? Call me whatever, I do not mind. They/them? Go for it. ?! I'm chill with almost anything, though, I am a dude. Just don't try any funny stuff on here. Anyway! My blog is open for asks and discussion, I love to talk to others so just drop me an ask whenever.

Hey hey! Back at it again with another blog! This time an oc rp blog because I love Warren with all of my heart. If you don't know me, hi I'm Richie, I own @riotsnrebellion and @nintndo64, my main blog is @1nervegas1. I'm an 18 yr old gay trans man with a love of horror movies, video games and anything related to em!

This blog will have sexual themes, violence and gore spoken about on it, if that's not your thing? This blog isn't for you.

I am totally okay with shipping, that includes crackships, rarepairs and oc x canon, just dm me first or shoot me an ask to discuss everything.

Enough about me though, More about Warren! Warren is a jigsaw trap survivor, he struggles with both self harm, suicidal thoughts and a hard drug addiction, currently, he is attending a clinic to get over his addiction, attending the jigsaw survivors group and getting therapy. He works two jobs, one being a cashier at an old record store ran by a family friend, and the other as a server at a not so fancy restaurant. He lives in a shitty apartment with his dog, Mallow, and enjoys to watch local rock shows.

there will be more info to come! I'll be putting it in other posts though however to avoid making this one too long!

Yes his faceclaim is Dave Mustaine

TRAP INFO / BIO / PLAYLIST / PINTEREST BOARD / ART TAG

Tags that may be used on this blog!

-#🥁>RICHIE RAMBLES (ooc stuff)

-#🎨>WARREN MUSES (his thoughts/normal posts)

-#🎧>WARREN CONVERSES (interactions)

-#✏️>WARRENCORE (stuff that I associate with him)

-#🎵>WARREN REBLOGS (his reblogs)

-#<❗INFO❗> (info about warren, random stuff)

[mrsnancywheeler]

What about when Billy brought muse back to the house for the first time, let her stay, let her bring a bag. I imagine what the others would say, especially Karen.

-🌾anon

guys karen sirko is literally the love of my life, you don't understand, she's such an icon and I'm in love with her

anywayyssss, billy being at muse's house after she came to yet another gig and by now it's been consistent going to gigs, makeout sessions, hookups in random rooms, and he's already broken her heart at least once but she's still around, and he originally was just going to drop her off but ofc he's going inside anyways

all the lights are off, and it's a pretty big place, but it just looks so empty no matter how much stuff is technically up, "damn, it's dark in here. is everyone gone this late?"

and you're lighting up a cigarette, "there is no everyone." you say with a shrug.

"this huge house, and nobody else even lives here, you could rent out rooms or something in this place."

you laugh lightly, smiling, "no need. dad thought it would be good for appearances and if I had a party wouldn't trash his house even if he wasn't around to see. but, we're pretty empty."

"hmmm, I can see that." billy puts his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a kiss. and it hits him that of course you're at every gig, always picking up the phone, you've got friends, but for the most part it's just you alone, in this big, empty house. you're lonely and he doesn't know why, but he feels inclined to help you. "I should go."

and you pull away, "yeah of course, keeping the rockstar out past his bedtime."

"you should come with me." he says it so abruptly, "back the the house, we're just gonna be there working on stuff for the next couple days, you should get to know everyone."

and it implies so much, that you should stay at the house with everyone for days, that you're important enough to meet the band, even though he's already implied you're just another groupie. but you nod and pack and go with him anyways.

and you're so nervous when you get there because you kind of know the band, but not really, you've talked to eddie the most, and this feels so official, like meeting the family z even though you're not really official, and your heart is kind of beating out of it's chest

"this is-" billy starts

"we know," karen cuts in, because of course they know, he's been hanging around you for a while and mentioned you many times, so had eddie. "karen."

and when billy is bringing you back to his room to put your bag down eddie is already complaining and karen does make a remark

"I didn't realize we were going to be bringing teenagers back," karen leans on the counter and graham is already trying to defend his brother.

"she is an adult, and this could be good for him, you know-"

"yeah, an adult teen."

eddie is interjecting to complain already, "he's such a fucking asshole, you know he's already kissing other girls? and he knew I liked her." but nobody is really paying him any kind.

"well, I think she seems pretty cool, you know. could bring some new energy in!" warren offers.

"I do too, she's not the problem." karen says, taking a drink.

"I mean, this might not even be a thing, guys, we should stay on the down low about it. not freak her out, or him, see what happens." graham says.

and the rest is history. once you're there you basically never leave unless you and billy have a blowup fight, you were in fact basically a permanent installation.

you'd smoke, drink, and watch shows with warren. he'd try to teach you how to play drums when you were to high to even really try. you'd explain the plots of movies to each other as badly as you could to see if the other could guess it and they'd have to take a shot if they didn't. you'd tell him stories about celebrities you'd met without the names to see if he could guess who they were about. he was the first to try anything you'd bake. warren made you feel alive.

with graham you'd play endless card and board games you'd randomly pick up, you were always willing to go surfing with him even if you weren't really good at it, just because you loved the beach. you picked up on his crush on karen very quickly, and he ended up confiding in you about it, in fact he ended up asking your support for a lot of issues he had. and you were always there for him. graham made you feel needed.

karen and you latched to each other as the only girls in the house, as soon as you could. she heard your problems judgement free, never expected an explanation when your feelings got complicated, would go out to watch movies with you, would just lay on the beach with you, share a cigarette and listen to each other's favorite record, listen to you talk about your problems in the world and she'd really just listen. she knew you weren't asking for guidance and she knew when you were to give it. karen made you feel heard.

you realized eddie was in love with you faster then you'd ever admit. he was so eager whenever he could to help out, to take you anywhere, he memorized your favorite food at different diners, favorite ice cream flavors, favorite movies, records, flowers, all of it. he would listen too, tell you how much better you deserved. and even if you knew it was wrong, it felt nice, because eddie made you feel loved.

and billy with all his good days and bad days. with the days where he'd write love songs about you, tell you how you were his muse, the days you'd just watch him play and write, the days of quiet. and the bad days of endless fighting, and heartbreak, and hurt, and words. the way he'd always come knocking at your door and you realized that despite your better judgment you weren't turning him away. billy made you feel in love, made you feel passion.

and then daisy would come along. she would defend you with every breath, always stand up for you, encouraged you to get out in the world and do whatever you loved, helped you write songs, wrote them with you, even used some for the band. she heard you voice, she never tried to do anything but defend you, she was without ulterior motive, and daisy made you feel seen, made you feel seen.

[atgvnpoint]

OPEN TO × m only  21+

PLOT × y/m has regular meetings with the mob boss richard warren (reason and connection to richard is up to you). benji has his eyes on your muse not just because of y/m's looks but because he also wants information to harm his father.

MUSE × benji warren [24] law student, hacker & mafia heir

It wasn't the first time the unknown handsome man came to their mansion. As always, the he disappeared into his father's office for hours. The mob boss's son didn't know what they were doing there, at least not yet, but he was determined to find out. This time, everything was well planned. As soon as the door opened and the man came out of the office, Benji 'accidentally' stepped out of the bathroom. The young man had a towel wrapped around his waist and grinned at the visitor as he blocked his way. ❝Oh hello, you're back again?! Dad seems to be keeping you pretty busy. Important business? Or... hmm, let me guess: you can't talk about it?❞ he asked with a sly tone in his voice as he invaded the other's space a little more.

[reddevilmcnt]

muse: warren [ 30s, combat medic ] open to: m only pls! plot: give me the best friend's brother plot with someone being secretly in love ok.

"Yeah, I'm here. It's my house," Warren murmurs roughly, sturdy hands gripping on the rim of the couch. He leans in, all broad and shoulders tensed, gaze sweeping over his younger brother Xavier's unimpressed scowl and accompanying eye roll. But it's the best friend, seated next to Xavier, who snags his attention------- looking like he can't quite process Warren's presence in the flesh, so close. And, alright, technically it's not Warren's house. His actual place is out of state, and this was his old home, the one still anchored in the lives of his parents and Xavier, who was coasting through college. Warren, on the other hand, had been through school, traveled the world, returned only sporadically to check in. Family mattered (he loved them, truly,) but there was always something restless inside him, pulling him away, drawing him back only in flashes.

Just outside, the rain fell in a steady hush, tapping gently against the windows, blurring the world beyond with a soft grey mist. The house, however, was a safe haven against the dreariness, a cocoon of warmth with the scent of worn leather and cinnamon rolling through the air. It was the kind of day made for curling up with blankets and movies, the world kept comfortably at bay.

Warren liked it. Grey weather suited him more than sun-soaked afternoons, and it's a stay-in, lose-track-of-time kind of day. Which makes it perfect for this----- being here, bugging people, claiming space he hasn't truly occupied in a long while. He flashes a grin, all bright teeth and easy charm, gaze flicking toward the TV where a dark, ominous film has just begun.

"So, what're we watching? Looks like some scary shit."

"We?" Xavier's face scrunches with obvious disdain, words a little too quick. A reaction Warren doesn't fully register----- but his best friend does. Because, of course, Xavier's feeling it again, that simmering undercurrent he never talks about. Every time Warren shows up, there's an odd tension crackling in the air that always ends up with Xavier trapped, third-wheeling, practically fucking invisible between Warren's magnetic presence and his best friend's lingering glances. It's not fair, especially when Xavier just wants time alone with both of them, in different ways, on different days. But Warren's military. He's not around enough. So Xavier's learned how to bite his tongue, to share, to play nice. Kinda sorta.

"Yeah, we, smartass." Warren snorts, oblivious to the shifting dynamics, the unspoken friction. He rounds the couch and drops heavily onto the cushions----- right next to the best friend, of course. Close enough for the heat between them to spark, for their shoulders to brush. For Warren's body to linger just a little too near, as if drawn by instinct, like he doesn't even realize how deeply the gravity between them hums.

[una-hopeless-romantic1118]

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐕: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬?—𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐣𝐚𝐬/𝐑𝐡𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬

a/n: sorry for disappearing :,( I’ve had a pretty shitty life lately and writing has been helping me cope. things are less tense now and i’m able to update so i’m hoping u guys enjoy this MOMMY IS FEEDING YALL

timeline: ep. 3 (right smack in the Christmas scene) - ep. 4. 

PS I WILL BE MAKING ANOTHER CHAPTER. WHY? BC I WANNA SNEAK IN SOME HARDCORE ANGST BC WHAT IS A LOVE STORY WITHOUT ANGST

also bc i feel like the relationship is sped up and rushed and we hate that

Part 1

Part 2  

Part 3

Part 4

This chapter: Part 5

Part 6

Epilogue

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

warnings: as always, not proofread, hornae warren and y/n, some cavity-causing fluff, billy being a dicky dick, 

summary:

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

•─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────•

Eddie: Y/N Augustine was not who I expected to show up that Christmas Eve, with two trays of the best smelling lasagna I’ve ever smelled in my life, and an apologetic smile.

Why did she look apologetic? I don’t know, maybe it had something to do with the fact that as soon as she walked in, Warren was behind her? They were, like, 3 hours late.

Karen: Y/N is always on time. Whatever it is, doesn’t matter. For someone as fashionable as her, she manages to always arrive on time in the most gorgeous outfits I’ve ever seen. 

She was still gorgeous that night, of course, but she was late, and she had a sort of...sleazy smile. Of course everyone assumed the same thing.

But 3 hours late? *she rolled her eyes* I mean, fuckin’. hell. 

Camilla: When I first talked to the Y/N Augustine, I remember almost dropping you *she laughs* I was a major fan of her work, and still am. I really wasn’t expecting her on the phone when she called a few months before.

I asked who she was, being so forward on the phone about asking for my vest size when I didn’t order anything. I explained who I was, and introduced myself as Billy Dunne’s wife, and that I didn’t order a vest from this woman.

She was silent on the phone for a while, and came back introducing herself saying her name casually as if she wasn’t an important person. She said that she had no idea who Billy was, and that she was only familiar with a Warren Rojas, who she owed an order.

I found myself wondering how Warren managed to get a fashion designer to owe him a piece of her work...*she shrugs*

After freaking out to myself while I got his vest size, I didn’t bother passing the phone to him. And why would I? I wasn’t going to pass the chance to talk to one of my idols. And she didn’t seem to mind either.

I believe we went from talking about California, to the beaches, the majestic golden hour that shined through our windowsills at the same time, to you, even. She heard you crying through the phone.

And when I finally met her in person that night on Christmas, she was as lovely and funny. She gave every one of us presents, including you, and bothered to make us homemade food. I was so happy for Warren, but there were so many gaps as to how they even met.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────• 

“How did it go. Really,” Camilla insisted with a pleading tone. “How did you two meet?”

“Oh boy,” Karen mused, drinking her beer.

Y/N gave her friend beside her a pointed glare. “We met at a yacht party.”

Eddie leaned forward. “S-So is your name really Flora? Were you born ‘Flora?…” 

“Flora...?” Camilla commented, lost, looking back and forth between Eddie and Y/N.

•─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────•

Graham: She was so sweet about it, when me and Eddie went back and forth trying to connect the dots, which made it even more embarrassing. 

I guess it didn’t really make sense to me at the time. Why and how someone proper and prim like her managed to wind up with Warren, the wild one of the group. 

If I really considered the times he came late for practice, or left early, or that whenever he left to “work” at the boats, I think I could’ve gotten to the conclusion that he was smitten for this woman a lot earlier. 

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

“That’s pretty smart right there,” Eddie chuckled at Y/N’s recall of fooling Warren. “I am very impressed.”

Y/N shrugs humbly, obviously as a joke. Warren knew she would forever tell this tale for however long she lived. Meanwhile, he’s just glad to be part of it and getting her at the end of it.

It seems that in their almost month-long relationship, the two have managed a healthy and surprisingly well schedule to meet up. With Y/N’s new projects and the band’s practices, they meet three times a week. Sometimes four, or more, depending on Warren’s libido that Y/N’s compared to a rabbit’s.

Though, it’s not like she can’t complain.

Apart from that though, Warren never misses the chance to get her something. Mostly jewelry boxes, jewelry, and take-out food, and when she needed to run an errand, he’d come to her apartment with her much needed rolls of cloths that he paid for, despite sending him off with her money.

•─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────•

Y/N: When Warren and I first started dating, he was always the one coming to my place, never me visiting him over at Laurel Canyon. It was a little suspicious at first, so when I told him what I thought, y’know what he said?

He said, with the biggest grin on, “I wanna make a show out of it” and went to sleep after saying that. I never knew what he meant until that Christmas.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

That night, he did indeed showcase his lover to his friends. Every question asked by Camilla or Billy or Eddie about her career he knew the answers to. 

Where were you raised? Here in California up until she was 10, lived in France until she was 22 and moved back here to start Serenity. Sexiest French accent ever, even better when she’s muttering phrases under her breath stressfully.

Siblings? Two brothers, one older who hosts a foster home with his wife, one younger who just started a professional boxing career following their father’s footsteps. Three stepsisters who are all younger than her from her step-mom’s side, all of who are just now convinced their sister is famous for dating a rockstar drummer.

Favorite part about putting together designs? She finds satisfaction in piecing them together, and how she gets lost in sketching to the point that she doesn’t realize how long she’s been working.

Favorite song ever?  She’ll say something everyone else says: Dreams by Fleetwood Mac. It is a good song, but it’s not a favorite song ever, because in reality it’s something old, specifically, Stand By Me by Ben E. King. She doesn’t like admitting this to other people for fear of being called a sappy romantic.

She is, in fact, a sappy romantic, and Warren doesn’t miss the chance to taunt her about it. The bedside table full of romance books that he's tried to read, but for the love of everything good he cannot sit still and read.

What he doesn't mind doing, however, is sit still to watch another invest in her books with focused, determined brows, and the occasional squealing after reaching a certain point in the book.

He's got her memorized so well, even Y/N's surprised that the things and habits she's kept to herself, he notices like she leaves it out in the open under the sun.

At the thought, she rests her head on his shoulder with a proud grin. And Warren responds with a peck at the top of her head.

While listening to an ecstatic Eddie share a story, something against Y/N’s lower back began to grow.

She holds in every fiber in her body to refrain them from giggling.

“Shame on you.” She sarcastically spat in his ear.

He frowns down at her. “Huh?”

Y/N widens her eyes and makes a pointed glare down to his erection.

There was a short reaction of shock. “Shame me? Shame on you.” Warren took note of this. It’s happened way too many times now, and he’s lost awareness of what turns him on. “Thanks to you, I don’t have control over my body functions anymore.”

“I didn’t do anything!” She whisper shouted.

“You’re just way too hot and good,” he groaned. “I can't wait to get home."

Y/N sighed into his shoulder helplessly. Home. Their condo, together.

“I love the way you smell,” he whispered, as he always does whenever near her. But no matter how many times he’s sniffed her or said that, he still doesn’t know exactly what she smells like. He figured it was sweet, of course, but it didn’t shoot up his nose too strongly. It wasn’t fruity either, or so he figured she's just her own scent. Natural.

"Thanks." She smiled up at him. "It’s the French brand. It lasts longer on me.”

"No, I think it's just you."

She looks up at him through furrowed eyebrows. "Nobody can just smell nice naturally."

He shrugs. "Well, I dunno what smell it is." He twirls her hair. “It can’t be on a title of a perfume brand.”

She shook his chin playfully. “Pay attention to the conversation, playboy.” 

He can’t. How could he?

It’s only been a month, but a month of what Warren already knew was pure and genuine. Y/N could do no wrong to him, and vice versa. They were good for each other.

The soft, buttery gliding up and down on his arm is what Warren can determine with his eyes closed; the softness of Y/N's fingers. The arm wresting on her chest as she leans on his front—it was only natural for Y/N to caress.

And as a response, another peck to her head.

•─────⋅(cut to the documentary)⋅─────•

Daisy: I’ve never been a fashion fanatic, but Y/N’s work spoke to me. She was a true artist, y’know? She knew what she was doing, and she is really fucking good at it. She didn’t just throw it a bunch of cloth and called it a day, the woman directed her creativity to the art every single time. And I recognized that.

Imagine my surprise when I see her at a house party I was also invited to.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

Daisy arrives at the Dunnes’ place, already making a fool of herself by absentmindedly dropping the bottle of wine that she technically stole, but still.

Not to mention, she had an audience, their faces were clouded by the smoke she just blew out, and not to mention, it was dark.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” In her voice, Daisy can tell she spoke with a smile. “They have too much fun, they’ll need the fruit. Nutritional values.”

She emerged from the shadows with, indeed, a smile that warms the heart. But a recognizable face that she’s seen on televised interviews and small pictures of beside the designs she eyes enviously on the magazines.

“Holy shit...holy shit!” Her hands went up to the sides of her head. “Holy fucking shit! Hi! Oh my goodness...”

“Daisy Jones you’ve been in radios in everywhere I’ve been today,” she chuckled humbly. “I can ensure you I’m a bigger fan.”

“I’ve seen you in magazines for a lot longer. “ She shook her head in disbelief. “I love you so much.”

But before Y/N escorts her to the rest of the band, she pulls her into a hug.

•─────⋅(cut to the documentary)⋅─────•

Daisy: I’m not much of a hugger. I think, especially considering my relationship with my mother, I couldn’t handle physical touch. Most times I would just be forced into hugging people and I stand there, just like a stiff tree. But something about Y/N, even though I’d never met her before, made me feel so glad that I’m a person she would hug.

I felt really appreciated by this stranger.

While we spent most of the night talking us a group, eventually everyone else started to branch out and talk to others. Warren was clung to her like a lost puppy. God, *shaking her head* never thought a guy like Warren can be sappy. 

They just started dating and I could already see the connection between them. They mutually understood each other on such a level that everyone else around them can just do theirselves a favor and leave them alone.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

“My family might visit for the summer,” Y/N smiles against her hand. “I can’t wait. Lils and Hana and Ines are gonna try and talk to you. They’re English is so broken, it’s adorable.”

Warren smiles at her, even as he’s drunkly chugging at his drink. “You ever think about kids? I dunno, someday?” He panicked.

“Yeah. I think about kids.” Y/N vaguely answered to tease him.

He nods slowly. “Ye-Yeah. Me too.”

Y/N smiles innocently, scratching his headful of curls. “Want my kids?”

Warren gave her the deepest kiss as an answer.

taglist (aka beautiful people): @pinkdaiisies @mlwriting5 @teletubbysteroids @linatells @stanzie @arsonkween @rexorangecouny @lisbeth122605 @cultsanrio @thatoneawesomechicka @magicalmiserybore @sourholland @sunfairyy. @lilyhw1 @viridianflowers  @goldenjasssy @eonnyx @coldlamaspersonspy @navs-bhat @nicostars @darkestcinema​ @gr4cel4nd2​

[touchbased]

muse: jackson warren. mid twenties. heterosexual. comic book nerd that works at a dying novelty store. not really all that good with people but sweeter than honey open to: f/nb connections: gimme nick and norah's infinite playlist type vibes please!!! except it's two strangers (maybe he's loved her from afar for a while but never talked to her) who end up spending the night together

"what? i don't –�� i don't have any ulterior motives or anything." he's thankful for the low glow of the streetlights, if only because it manages to hide the pinking of his cheeks. "i just wanted to make sure you get to wherever you're going next safely. honest."

[skullkxd]

thinking about Unova protag muse

I hate the name hilbert for him so his name is Warren

…

warren peace.

quiet, prefers solitude, bianca and cheren were his only friends growing up and that was fine with him. He liked reading about Pokémon and type matchups

likes to battle, prefers that before talking — but will always challenge an opponent first, rather than wait for them to notice him

thinks N’s whole thing is dumb and short sighted. Realizes pretty quick that ghetsis and plasma are some weird fringe cult. Will throw hands at any opportunity with them.

chose oshawott because it’s my favorite but prefers electric and psychic types. Raised a Blitzle from its hatching.

favorite gym to challenge was burgh.

He completely skipped over the battle subway so he has no idea who Ingo and emmet are

[cxncordia]

🎁 (for @mikewxrren from Allen)

Send 🎁 and I will tell you what my muse gave yours! @sonoftartessos - accepting. Changing it to Mike and Addison, since we already have one for Mike and Allen.

"You have no idea how many favors I had to pull for this one," Addison admitted to Mike as he lead him to the couch. The man, wearing the most hideous Christmas' sweater, was more than happy to have Mike at his home. Addison loved Christmas and one can see in the joy he had and the way he had decorated everything. This year, however, he wanted to spend it with a couple of friends who were all mingling downstairs in his large house. One of them being Mike. He got in and then when the man was in place, Addison gently massaged his shoulders. "Okay, Mikey, I got you something, but you need to promise me that you will keep it between us. No talking about this to anyone," Addison had ways to make a bond last and to make it hurt. But he trusted Mike.

He left the man to continue and soon got to the TV and the DVD player in front of them. Sliding a button, the tray came out and Addison loaded it with an unmarked CD. He went to the remote and pressed a button. "I know that this might be too much, which is why I wanted to have the time with you to go through this. Alone." The lawyer soon pressed the play button on the remote and the TV started.

---

The image appeared and soon it was colored and shaped. Joseph, Mike's grandfather, sitting on a bench as his attention was focused on something else. In front, a group of toddlers all playing in the snow of a sunny day in the west of the US. The camera moved with the swaying of a walk, and it was evident that this was a handheld camera, set from the point-of-view of whoever was holding it.

"So who is the one?" The voice of Addison was heard outside of the view.

"The little rascal in red. There," Joseph pointed. The camera turned to the ground where the kids were playing and while it could not make a zoom in, the attention was definitely focused on the young blonde boy that was attempting to create a snow man. A five-year-old Mike Warren. "He's grown." Addison's voice was again, heard outside of the view.

"That's what people do, Addison. Normal people, at least." The camera turned to Joseph, now young enough to still be able to move, but old enough to show the first grey hairs on his temple and moustache. It was now evident, these were Addison's memories.

"Ouch. That hurt." Addison admitted. "But you know that I could do the same for you. You have made tons for me and our society that I can see how I can get an indult to get you to remain young and live a few extra—"

"—but that would mean everyone gets to forget me." Joseph interrupted Addison, cutting him off.

"A small price to pay."

"Nah," Joseph continued. "I didn't do it for the benefit of what your abilities could bring me. I helped you because there were innocent people that needed help." His gaze was not set on Addison, but on the young boy attempting to create a snowman larger than himself.

"You helped me took a Nephandi down. One that was using cameras to capture their victim's souls. That was no easy feat." Addison added, his gloved hand reaching to Joseph's knee. "Without your help we could have never have caught Lord R—"

"Addison. Public." Joseph said, turning to look at the hand on his knee.

"Oh. Sorry." The lawyer recoiled.

"We agreed that it was going to stop 10 years ago. And I'm not going to pick it up now." Joseph added, stern and stoic, without leaving his gaze from Mike. "So please keep your hands to yourself." A huff. This one charged with an anger that was quickly dispelled. "It was one time and it will remain like it."

"It was more than one time, but it's okay. I will not push it." Addison adjusted his throat, looking down to his own polished shoes. The same that he was wearing today. They don't make shoes like they used to do back in the 50's, shoes that could last an entire life.

"Can you at least consider the other option? I'm not here to pick you as my... companion. I'm here to reward you for your help." Addison admitted to the other, turning to Joseph, connecting their gazes for a second. Addison had imagined a perfect life along with this man, one where they would both get to be happy at the end of the story.

"Addison... my answer is final." One beat and then the man continued. "No."

"Why?"

Grandpa! the voice outside the camera called. Addison turned his head to meet the boy in the read sweater, requesting help from his grandpa to reach the snowman's head. It seemed like it required two eyes and a smile.

"There you have it. That's my why." Joseph then pulled up and began walking towards the kid, leaving Addison sitting. The lawyer immediately got up and quickly reached to Joseph's shoulder.

"You know what this means, right?" He paused, letting each word land on it's own weight. "It means that the next time we meet will be the last and that you will forget all about me. Any records. Any memories. Any logs. Any photographs about you and me... I will have to delete them. Including your memories."

Joseph stopped for a minute, only Addison's warm exhalation could be seen between them.

"It's a shame—," Joseph added, his gaze still focused on the youngling and his attempts at sculpture. "—To love two men and having to chose the one that will never know of your sacrifice."

Joseph's eyes met Addison's, their sorrow and grief connecting for a second, words left unspoken but actually communicated loud. There it was, one of the most fulfilling relationships Addison's ever had, rejecting him and the wonders of magic for a kid.

And the worst part is that he could not feel angry about it, because he would have done the same, if he was in Joseph's position.

"Take care, Addi. Live a prosper life," Joseph said, sniffling and cutting off a sob in the spot as he turned to the kid in the red sweater, the one running to embrace his leg.

"You too, old friend." A huff, followed by a shake of his head and a scoff. "And take your medicines. You will need them."

Addison began walking away, hearing only how Grandpa Joe was ready to pick up Mike to help him draw the happiest smile on his new icy friend.

[paigemathews]

For the February ficlets:

patty and paige

Pairing: Patty Halliwell & Paige Matthews

It was only Sam's arm around her, and her fear for her other daughters, that kept Patty on her feet. Exhausted and heartbroken, she cradled her baby in her arms as he orbed them to the church.

She vaguely registered the nun's shock and that Sam was saying something, but all Patty could do was watch her little girl. Patty was a Warren witch, with all that entailed. She's fought demons since she was a teenager, faced monsters that would send any other person running with nothing but her own grit and determination. She'd had innocents, friends, die in her arms as she was moments too late from saving an innocent. She'd seen more gruesome scenes than even the most hardened detective.

But nothing had come closest to shattering her than this. When she first fell pregnant, felt the little life flicker in her womb, she knew the risks that it came attached with. Many witches did not live long lives, and their craft posed an undeniable risk. But this was not a risk that she'd ever considered.

Her daughter wouldn't grow up the youngest of four. Her daughter wouldn't grow up with her mother's potions and cookies. Her daughter wouldn't grow up with her spells and lullabies. Her daughter wouldn't know that magic was real, that muses inspired and leprechauns granted luck and cupids helped you find love. Her daughter wouldn't know the power that she possessed, the was rooted in her blood for centuries. Her daughter wouldn't know that she was a Warren, and Patty's heart ached.

"Patty," Sam gently brought her back into the present, and she swallowed hard.

The nun's eyes were awed and bright, and Patty couldn't bear to meet them. Looking down at her little girl, she found her voice enough to request, "Make sure that her name starts with a P."

She couldn't grant her daughter her power or her ancestors or her magic, but maybe one day, her baby could find her way back to them. Maybe one day, she'd be able to see her again. Maybe one day, she'd be able to hold her again.

~

Patty didn't expect the summoning until she was standing in the mortal plane again. It had been... a rough few days, to say the least. Prue alternated between quiet despair about her life being cut short and angry desperation to return to her sisters, and while Patty resonated with her daughter's feelings, she'd had more than twenty years to come to terms with the impossibility of it. Combined with Prue suddenly finding out that Penny and Patty had hidden that they had a younger sister, her daughter couldn't seem to decide if she was no longer speaking to them or shouting at them. The only person able to calm her temper since her death was Andy, who Patty had been dismayed to see arrive so soon a few years earlier.

"There was someone here we thought you should meet."

She wasn't sure if Phoebe was talking to her or the woman standing in front of her. She was beautiful: dark hair and dark eyes with an expression that Patty had seen before. Time and death couldn't hide her identity from Patty.

"Paige."

Looking stunned, Paige - her daughter, her baby girl - asked, "Mom?"

Patty couldn't have stopped herself if she'd tried as she stepped out of the summoning circle. Wrapping her homes around her daughter, she barely contained the tears of joy. For the first time in a lifetime, her daughter was in her arms again.

"Welcome home."