#and dmitri saw them and was like 'hold on.... you remind me of someone.......' to one of ivan's sons

[theklaapologist]

brothers karamazov got me down so bad i wrote a fanfic where dmitri and ivan were parents

[silvercrystalwhump]

A Surprise Call

Vincent belongs to @ashintheairlikesnow

No TWs today, except maybe that Vince is very tired, and the nieces took his number from Dmitri's phone

-

Vince flops back onto the small couch that sits along the wall of his trailer. His arms rest on his thighs as he rubs his temples, shooing away a persistent headache. Exhaling, he sinks into the cushion. For once, his work phone is empty of messages. Tamara didn’t have something for him to answer, to plan, or to pray is ignored. 

Surprising, since everyone and their mother was asking him about Helaena. Pretending to be a newly famous actress’ boyfriend always came with a downpour of questions, too many impossibly personal. Apparently, this is her first time paparazzi saw something damning enough to shove onto front pages and media boards. One photo.

Vince blinks, the image of the photo refuses to come to mind. He opens his notes and types a sloopy reminder to refresh his memory. Since, it was a matter of time before someone asked about it and carve into his answer with the finest of toothed combs.

Vince feels his phone ring on the small coffee table next to him, his personal phone. The sound reverberates across the room, echoing through his small corner of this set. He exhales again and, reaching over, picks up the phone and answers.

“Hello?”

A small voice chirps up through the phone. , “Who are you?” A layer of friendly demand coats her question.

“You… called me,” Vince pauses as he pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at the number. It’s not one saved in his phone. Hesitantly, he continues, “I should be asking you that.”

Distantly, another slightly sharper voice hisses, “Tia, you can’t just ask him that!”

“Then what do I ask?”

Vince slowly pulls the phone away from his face again and actually reads the digits, the area code was the same as Dmitri’s. Rarely, did he ever receive automated or random calls with that area code at all.

“You know our Uncle,” the sharper voice becomes much clearer, probably getting closer to the microphone. Her voice is firm, the demand actually sticking to her words like syrup. “You’re in his phone under Sweetheart.”

That’s why it’s Dmitri’s area code. The two young voices have names very quickly. Vince sits back and rubs his forehead.

“I- You’re Tiana and Roxana aren’t you.”

“How’d you know,” The younger one chirps up again, her voice almost happier as her voice comes closer to the phone, “Does Uncle D talk about us?!”

Vince leans over and grabs his work phone, opening up Dmitri’s number on it, “He does, he cares about you two.” 

“So you know about us but why don’t we know about you?” the sharper voice asks with bravado, “Who are you? Are you his boyfriend?”

Vince opens Dmitri’s number on his work phone and texts him, You’re nieces took my number from your phone.

“I do know Dmitri,” Vince answers after a brief pause, “We are close.”

“How close?” the chipper voice asks, “I’m Tiana, but everybody just calls me Tia.”

Are you serious, Vince’s phone buzzes, Hold on, I’m sorry that they’re harassing you.

Vince texts back, It’s fine.

“Why do neither of you talk about each other?” Tia asks, clearly getting impossibly close to the phone. Her breath sounds like static as she speaks, “Like Mom only knows that Uncle D has a boyfriend, she doesn’t even know who you are and they tell each other everything.”

“Well,” Vince mutters, as an old sense of guilt presses into his chest, “We have parts of our lives together and parts that are separate. Some overlap, some don’t.”

The other woman pipes up, “Isn’t that not a good relationship, especially if you’ve been dating, you’ve been in his phone for at least six months as Sweetheart.” 

“That was Roxy by the way.”

“Shush!”

Vince pauses, running his hand over his pants nervously, and the slightest pang of guilt pokes him harder. He rests his elbows on his knees and lets his eyes close.

An assistant knocks and pokes their head into the doorway of Vince’s trailer. Vince nearly jumps out of his seat to look at them. “Vince, the director is asking for you.”

“I’ll be out in a moment,” he replies as he pulls the phone away and shows them the call. They give him a quick nod before disappearing out the door.

Vince returns to the phone and opens his mouth to speak when he hears Dmitri’s voice faintly through the phone. “You two seriously took his number from my phone. I told you two that he’s private. That is not an invitation to make his number from my phone and call him!”

“How did you-!” Roxy nearly squeaks and her voice abruptly drops off. The phone gets dropped, a clunk echoing through the speaker. 

Dmitri, picking up the phone, breathes, “I am so sorry. I didn’t realize that they went through my contacts earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Vince says as he stands, letting Dmitri’s voice settle some of his nerves, “I have to go, I’ll see you later tonight?”

“Yeah, love you,” Dmitri says with a tired sigh, “I’ll keep them off your case.”

“Love you too,” He hangs up. Tossing his phone back onto the table, Vince allows himself one final, oxygen-depriving sigh before he dashes out of the trailer, ignoring the last buzz.

[themadauthorshatter]

I don't know how long it's been, but fuck it, I'm making another part!

If you haven't read the previous parts you can fine them here:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 and revision

Part 5

Quick recap, just in case: even after his attempt to keep everyone out of danger, Henry still catches up to Charles. Not all is lost, though, because he gets the okay, and two days to reach The Wall, where he must confront a woman from Terrence's past, at the former Toppat leader's instruction.

OKAY! With that out of the way, BACK TO THE STORY!!!

Charles wastes no time driving to the rendezvous point to get to The Wall, after he phoned a friend for help. His friend has a helicopter on standby(which Charles will not be driving, for obvious reasons), so all Charles needs to do is get there, which he does.

At some point during this drive, frustrated with the circumstances and just wanting things to be normal again, Charles screams and shouts to get it out, almost crashing because he wasn't watching the road.

For almost a day and a night, running on nothing but water, stress, and ADD pills, Charles drives to an abandoned airport, where his friend is waiting.

Who's this friend that he called? Well, Matteo Gurtchev, who greets him warmly when he arrives.

"Charles, there you are! I was wondering what was taking you!" Matteo says as he hugs Charles.

"Glad to see you, too, but we need to go. Right now!" Charles replies quickly as he stumble-runs to the helicopter- he's been driving for nearly two days.

Matteo nods and helps him in, telling the pilot to get going.

"So what is your plan here? Why did you call me after so long?" Matteo asks as they sit down, across from each other and Charles lying on his side.

"You know how the Toppats are in space?"

Matteo nods.

"They're looking for the sapphire and think I know where it is. I mean, I DO know, but I don't know know, you know?"

Depsite the confusion, Charles is tired, so guve him some slack, Matteo nods again.

"And you're coming to The Wall, why?"

"Hadiya Wrenley. Does that name sound familiar?"

Matteo gets up and sits next to Charles, helping him up. "Yeah, it's familiar. Hadiya's been an inmate for almost 29 years. Why?"

"I need to talk to her. As soon as we get to The Wall."

"Of course. Now get some sleep."

Charles does not turn down that offer and falls asleep just about instantly.

WITH HENRY!

Henry holds up his end of the bargain and is on the move as the third day arrives.

He checks the base, to make sure Charles didn't just stay there, before heading back out to look for him. This time, however, there's no tapping his phone or tracking him.

Henry, from his place in the cafeteria, stares out the window as he thinks about where else Charles could be.

"Wow, some plan for looking for your favorite toy."

Henry wheels around and groans at Terrence, who smirks and waves at him from against the wall.

"What's wrong? Can't say 'hi' to your old man?"

'What are you doing here?' Henry signs. 'And how did you even get on here?'

"Next time, make sure whoever's manning the beam is actually paying attention."

Henry rolls his eyes and takes a seat, gesturing Terrence to sit across from him, which he does.

'What are you up to this time?'

Terrence shrugs and offers his son a sly grin. "Just bored. Wanted some entertainment."

Henry glares at him, but Terrence only continues grinning.

"Get out," Henry growls. "Or I'll lock you in the brig."

Terrence sighs and stands before walking toward the door, but stops.

"Oh, and by the way, remember to visit your mother every now and again."

Henry gives Terrence a very confused look before Terrence tips his head and leaves.

BACK TO CHARLES!

The ride to The Wall is long and Charles sleeps the whole time, at least until they land and Matteo wakes him up.

"We're here."

Charles, sore from the drive, holds up a hand, which Matteo takes to help him up.

Charles sits and stands up with a hiss.

"Do you need anything before we go in?"

Charles shakes his head. "No. I just need to talk to Hadiya before Henry gets here."

"Don't worry about that," Matteo replies with a chuckle as they walk inside. "Unless he wants to get arrested, he won't come back here."

Charles nods and sighs as they met a couple Wall guards and take an elevator to Dmitri's office, the guards all talking to each other and about Charles in German/Russian, Matteo telling them to knock it off, if they don't want to get reported to the warden.

One of them reminds him, still in German/Russian, "He's not the warden, remember?"

When Matteo scowls, Charles looks between them and asks what they're saying.

Turns out Dmitri got into trouble after Ellie and Henry escaped. A LOT of trouble.

Speaking of Dmitri, we meet him in his office, Grigori at his side, as Matteo knocks on the door and says they have a visitor.

Charles pops a couple ADD pills into his mouth and walks in when Grigori tells them to.

Matteo pats Charles on the shoulder, wishes him luck, and holds the door open for his friend.

Both a silent Dmitri and Grigori are surprised and happy to see the Pilot, given everything that's happened.

Well, Grigori voices this, at least, and actually gives Charles one of those Dad hugs, where there's back pats and rubs, but Charles, who's a little uncomfortable, asks if he can talk with them.

He can, and Grigori lets him sit down.

Charles asks why Dmitri is so quiet, and Grigori admits that Ellie hits hard for a girl, hard enough for three dentists to break the bank.

Speaking of which, Grigori asks if Charles is at The Wall for a position that was offered to him, one that pays more than merely flying a helicopter.

He's not. He's here to meet an inmate, but has something to ask:

"What do you know about Henry? And how'd you arrest him in the first place?"

Grigori hums and leans back in his chair as Dmitri glares at Charles. "You've seen how he works alone, да?"

Charles nods and notices Dmitri writing something, which he shows.

'As you know, he's lucky. Luckier than anyone we've encountered before. We caught him during a heist at just the right moment and arrested him. Little did we know, he and another inmate worked together to escape.'

Charles nods again. "Maybe next time have two guards to keep an eye on new inmates instead of one?"

Dmitri scowls and writes another note, one in all capital letters and underlined:

'THERE WON'T BE A NEXT TIME.'

"Anyway," Charles sighs, "I need to talk to someone."

Grigori and Dmitri exchange and glance before the warden nods.

"да. Who?"

"Hadiya Wrenley."

SPEAKING OF HER, WE CUT RIGHT TO HER!

Where Terrence is barely recognizable from his time in the CCC(if you want a full description, read the Toppat!Charles series), Hadiya is recognizable, just a little aged from her time in The Wall. She has strands of silver in her dark hair and is aging with time, but doesn't look a day over maybe 35, maybe 40.

There's a knock on her door and she's informed of her visitor before Charles walks in, saying hi to her, full name and all, to try and ease the tension.

"Who are you?" She asks sharply.

"Sorry," Charles replies. "I'm Charles. I'm with the government."

"If you're here to take me home, please don't bother. I've made up my mind, and I'm not leaving."

"You don't have to. I just want to know what you know about Henry Stickmin."

Hadiya only turns her head and gives Charles a very confused look.

"His dad's Terrence Sua-"

At the sound of that name, Hadiya gasps and pits a hand on Charles's mouth.

"Don't say his name," she yelps. "That man is the Devil himself, and I'll be DAMNED, if he comes here!"

Charles only stares as she steps back and sits on her bed.

"I'm sorry, what does that mean?"

Hadiya shakes her head. "You've notived it, right? He... does stuff and other stuff happens. He sneezes, a car crashes. He opens his mouth to talk, ten people start beating each other senseless. He... He TAKES something, more things go missing or get destroyed."

Charles pulls up a chair and takes a seat. "Sounds a lot like Henry."

"I'm sorry, but who's Henry?"

"The new leader of the Toppat Clan. Terrence keeps calling him his son, but..."

Although Charles trails off, Hadiya sighs.

"Do you want to know the truth?"

Charles nods.

"He only told me to join because he was 'nothing without me.' I didn't have much to offer, but he saw something I didn't. When I tried to help on heists, he locked me in our room. If I tried having his back in meetings, he cut me off. When I tried to give him an heir, he lost his mind.

"Do you know how vicious someone has to be to threaten a child?

To be so full of themself, that they can't even see what life there is right in front of them? He took one look at him, just one, and ordered him to be thrown overboard."

Charles watches Hadiya admit to all of this as she tears up, feeling his stomach drop as he pieces together what she's saying with what he kniws, and realizes why both Henry and Terrence are so dangerous.

"Have... Have you ever heard of the Center of/for Chaos Containment?"

Hadiya shrugs and nods. "Sort of."

"They deal with anything related to chaos, which is just weird, but wherever Henry is, they show up. It happened at the bank he robbed, on one of his heists, and before he and the Toppats escaped to space."

Hadiya points and sits up. "That happened with Terrence! Everywhere he went, there were those CCC guys!"

Charles lets himself grin at that piece of good news, but his smile drops as a new question arises.

Too bad there's a loud BOOM that shakes the entire complex.

Charles locks his eyes on the ground and mutters a swear under his breath; he should've been more careful with his hiding spot.

Hadiya takes one glance outside and turns on Charles, absolutely pissed off beyond all reason.

"YOU BROUGHT THEM HERE!?"

Charles holds his hands up as Hadiya grabs at him. "It-It was just a deal. I thought I had more time-"

There's another BOOM in the complex, and Charles quickly apologizes to and thanks Hadiya before telling her to stay in her cell as he runs out.

OUTSIDE THE WALL!

Henry and Ellie sprint around the yard and take a seat near the fence as inmates run amok; those two drill pods of Toppats really sent them all scurrying and there's a chance Charles is amidst the fray.

Despite all the chaos, Ellie sighs.

"Man, this brings back memories, doesn't it?"

Henry nods and sighs as well. 'Wonder if anyone will escape this time, too?'

"Heads up," Ellie semi-barks as she looks out in the yard.

Sure, he's wearing the Wall inmate uniform, but it looks baggy as hell, especially at his pants, there's a hunch between his neck and his back, he has a hand on his right side, and he's trying to hide his face a little too much.

Wonder who that is?

Henry and Ellie smirk at each other and race agter him, Ellie commanding Right, Reginald, amd anyone close by that Charles is in the yard and is leaving The Wall, heading possibly towards the woods.

SPEAKING OF CHARLES!

He sprints towards the Wall entrance and yells to the guards he's with the government and would very much like to leave because he's injured amd unarmed; he lost his gun while the inamtes were running rampant.

They don't believe him until he shows his ID, then he gets to leave.

Even though he sees Right flying toward him and Ellie and Henry on a motorcycle.

Charles wastes no time running into the woods and weaving through the trees to avoid being seen and/or shot.

It mostly works, but it really doesn't help that he's not in the best 'running' shape at the moment, so he has to dive under a log and hide when the motorcycles and Right pass by and then stop and start walking through the woods with flashlights.

"You're sure you saw him here?" Ellie asks as Right takes the lead.

"Yeah. 'E didn't get far."

"Alright. Split up, then. Divide and conquer."

Charles watches them stalk past him, the Toppats using flashlights to try and find him.

When he's pretty sure they're gone, he crawls out from his hiding place and starts sneaking back towards the complex.

Only to spot the group turn their flashlights in his direction and make him hide behind a tree. They miss him again and Charles tries sneaking off once more, keeping an eye on where he's going and where they are.

He freezes when he feels a gun against his back.

"Going somewhere?"

Charles, unarmed and outnumbered, sighs and holds up his hands.

From behind him, Henry smirks, lowers his gun, and starts circling around Charles. "I told you I'd find you, didn't I? You really should've listened."

"So what now?" Charles asks sharply, not at all in the mood for Henry being a smug prick. "You torture me until I tell you where the sapphire is or until I die?"

"Until you die?" Henry echoes.

The two are silent, even as the group finds them.

As Charles sees them, Henry grabs his collar and turns and pushes him into a tree, sort of pinning him as he leans into his ear.

"Why would I ever want that?" Henry asks with a smirk as he toys with Charles's hair, where it's closer to the nape of his neck.

It makes Charles's stomach drop and he gets more than a little creeped out at the realization that if Henry was that hellbent in getting the sapphire, he would've bombed the base and looked for it himself.

Lost in this thought, it gives Henry the opportunity to knock Charles back into the tree by his head, which makes him see stars and start to lose consciousness as he drops to the ground.

Just before he's down for the count, Charles glares up at Henry, who lowers to one knee to see what he has to say.

"You... sick bastard."

"Maybe, but look at the one who's winning here."

Charles knocks out and Henry slings him over his shoulder; with effort, of course, Charles maybe younger and shorter, but he's fit from almost a life time of military work, so that's 100% muscle Henry's picking up.

"Let's go," Henry commands. "He's going to tell us everything."

They all agree and head out toward the 'beam point,' though Henry smirks amd widely smiles that he just got what he REALLY wanted, and will be getting the sapphire, possibly very soon.

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

iv. Relationships w/ MC | Obey Me | Actor AU

Request: Hello! I saw that your ask box is open, so I have come bearing a request. I found ur blog thru your OM actor au and I adore it to bits. Your interpretation of the characters was delightful and the gag/bloopers had me laughing so hard! May you please expand on the au by sharing your relationship headcanons of how the cast interacts or feels about MC (platonic/romantic)? I hope this finds you well 💖💖💖

Word Count: 3225 words

Page Count: 9.2 pages

A.N. Hope you guys enjoy this!

Tags: @weebartistinc​

[ M A S T E R L I S T ]

Lucifer / Benjamin

        The relationship between Benjamin [ Lucifer ] and MC would more like master and apprentice. Think of RDJ and Tom Holland. Ben is more lax than his show counterpart for sure. Where Lucifer would be prideful, Ben is humble, where Lucifer is smug, Ben can be self conscious. I'd like to think the MC of the "real world" thinks much more logically, doesn't throw themselves into things head first and is more calculating. Maybe something more like Satan? 

        Between the two of them, they are lax and playful, throwing inside jokes and playfully fighting. Ben [ Lucifer ] is like the "cool dad" that loves to mess around with his kids, which makes sense because he does have his own, they are fairly young and I can see MC babysitting in case it was needed. There's a deep trust between the two that can't really be described. Ben really wants MC to prosper in their career and will guide them- but he doesn't want to baby them either, he wants them to test the waters on their own. If they ever get overwhelmed he's there for them though.

        His dumbass is forgetful to check his sugar as well, so you can catch MC helping to remind him to check it/eat/drink if needed. He didn't have the most welcoming background- he didn't have the support system a child needs, so he strives to be that and forgets to care for himself often.

        "I want to give my kids everything I never had and more, just like how I want it for you too, MC."

Mammon / Avery 

        Avery [ Mammon ] is very business oriented and formal. MC and him would get along well, like their Obey Me counterparts, but just more lax and less chaotic. I see them as the type to go on coffee dates to catch up and get away from it all, seeing as how famous he is, he often likes to find smaller and less well known places to dwell. Enjoys the small and peaceful moments with MC and they can relate with being the most famous of the cast- so they often get treated the same.

        I can see them having a deep platonic and familial connection while also being distant. Avery has trouble opening up due to being frequently used for his money, and though he and MC are on the same playing field, he has his moments where he needs to back away and recuperate. And though he is distant, if MC or himself were to ever need anything, they're at each other's beck and call. Think of the relationship as: MC is the younger sibling that was born like... 10 years after Avery and he is the older brother, they are distant at times, but still love each other deeply and fiercely.

        "MC, what do you think of this new script- who is that on your page? They're liking too many pictures at once... a bit desperate- don't you think?"

Leviathan / Jackson

        This one... is a little complicated. Really- he's a fuck boy and he doesn't care. I can see him as very... objectifying- and not just sexually either. He can see how to use someone to their fullest advantage, but only for his sake, just for to further himself or satisfy any needs he has. MC is a playful flirt, but once Jackson [ Leviathan ] starts to pull the moves, I can see MC pulling back quickly and isolating away from him. Until there is a serious moment where Jackson can prove that he can provide something meaningful to the relationship- it's going to remain cold and formal. MC isn't playing games.

        This can be one of the few relationships that, if managed properly by MC and Jackson [ Leviathan ], can make their relationship to a more friends with benefits type or something romantic. Jackson [ Leviathan ] needs to learn how to stop seeing people as tools and more like... people. MC, in turn, would need to learn boundaries for themselves. They'd probably be so used to accepting people that keeping Jackson at a distance would be weird and almost foreign to them. If they both want things to work out for a proper, and healthy, relationship- it's going to be a lot of work.

        "MC, come here, I need you for something. Hm? No, no- nothing like that. I thought maybe... we could just hang out? Normally?"

Satan / Ross

        Honestly? MC could do better than Jackson [ Leviathan ] and Ross is it, babes. He is definitely the most understanding of MC and takes their own emotions into consideration. Wow kinda like Satan. He still does those live streams and gets smacked on a couple of grams, so MC is there either smoking as well or just getting hot boxed, their tiger dyed cats running everywhere. The live stream then turns into a kitten purring ASMR, then eventually, everyone is asleep on a live stream together. Ross [ Satan ], is a sweetheart as well, remembers the little things about MC and will make them special gifts or gestures for them. Is the type of boyfriend to leave random kisses on them just because.

        Ross [ Satan ], also likes to talk, so he does like to pick MC's mind and see how they think- which in turn touches their heart because WOW. A guy they like isn't using them or being a general ass? He doesn't play around, so if you want a relationship prepare to be in something for the long haul, family affairs are now your business as well. He is super close with his younger brother Dmitri [ Luke ], so you need his approval as well. Ross also can help with building confidence and a stronger self image, but a major downside is that he is lazy, like, he is really fucking lazy. He's tired though, with his job, the animal shelters, watching his brother, and avoiding... them- he wants to just be a homebody. MC does a lot of home dates, but they end up very fulfilling because it's Ross, he knows how make make even the smallest moments feel like everything.

        "Look at ya, MC! Damn, you always have me fallin' for ya all over again."

        "I'm in sweatpants and a tanktop, babe, nothin' special."

        "And you make 'em look fine as hell. Now come 'ere, let's watch a movie, look-! An MC sized space is here, right between my arms, neat right?"

Asmodeus / Micheal

        He's like the best friend who acts like the wine mom. He's the wine mom. He's mom. Always come to him for help, from either something as small as a rant to larger issues like contracts and relationship advice. This a more platonic/familial relationship that MC would develop. They can delve into more personal and private conversations, confident Micheal has the best intentions and advice, and in turn MC helps him out with what their generation is up to these days.

        Pinching MC's cheeks? Yeah, it's a ritual at this point. Likes to joke that MC is actually his illegitimate child. He also invites them to his vlogs, taking MC out at 2 am to Wendy's and talk about the most random stuff. Maybe hint at new things that are upcoming on the show. He writes TSL, not Alex [ Simeon ], so MC will help him with plot and point out any plot holes as well. 

        "MC, hon, take a nap. You're tired and haven't slept well. I got you food too- no, not Wendy's, actual food. Eat that and go sleep, alright?"

Beelzebub / James

        This can be another contender for a romantic relationship! James [ Beelzebub ] is one of the few actors who is pretty similar to their character, so if you love Beelzebub, you love James, sorry I don't make the rules. It's law. He is still new to the acting scene, so unless MC was an actor as a child as well, they'd bounce tips off one another- things they learn from whoever takes them under their wings. In MC's case, Benjamin [ Lucifer ] is their mentor, and in James' case, Alex [ Simeon ] is his mentor.

        He's very thoughtful, understanding, and compassionate. But, he is a bit of an airhead at times, or he often gets lost in his own head. This is due to him trying to think things through, he gets anxious and wants to perform well in every aspect of his life, so he tends to overthink and try to fix his problems in his head. MC will help him with opening up and stilling his mind into calmer waters. He feels the weight of his family, seeing as he now makes the most, he feels like he should be taking care of all of them- even when they tell him to just enjoy his life as it is. MC would realize he's a family man, so this would be another relationship where commitment is expected, James would rather not just have something casual due to how hectic things in his life get. He also is often with Dmitri [ Luke ], watching him and making sure he's okay, because if his younger siblings were in the same situation, he'd want someone to look out for them too. Dmitri is in love with both MC and James, often messing around or just relaxing with them of Ross [ Satan ] isn't around, so their often known as the "Realm Trio" due to their characters each being a different race.

        "I'm fine, really! I was just... thinking, that's all. I'm happy, really I am, and I want everyone else to be as well. That's it."

Belphegor / Conner 

        MC definitely becomes more chaotic with Conner, he's a sweetheart, but damn can he not sit the fuck down. He can be a bit draining for MC if they aren't in the best of moods, and even then, he just holds this light that makes them happy or feel peaceful. Another romantic/platonic relationship that can happen. This is a relationship where no matter how old they get, what is going on in life, how overwhelmed they feel, MC and Conner [ Belphegor ] will always manage to laugh.

        He is clumsy, especially with the tail, so MC will worry over him on and off set. He is very humble, and grateful for every opportunity he gets, so he faces each day with a smile and the classic southern hospitality- where you say thank you after everything, help anyone even if they aren't struggling, all with a southern drawl that makes MC melt. This is the healthiest relationship to exist, due to how easy Conner can communicate with MC and how MC can pick up on things he might not, there isn't any big issues because they both can just talk it out. Even if it doesn't end up romantic- it's still one of the most fulfilling relationships MC and Conner will have due to just being... them.

        "It's so easy, being with you, and I love that. Loving you is never painful, never tough on me, it's always so... light. So perfect, like you."

Barbatos / Thomas

        Oh my god. He is an absolute ass. He is like the uncle you never wanted, always sarcastic, roasting someone, but in the end he means no harm. MC and him definitely have a darker sense of humor together, getting either morbid or just downright weird, and no one else can decipher that the fuck they're saying because there's too many inside jokes and little intricacies. In the end, he is a ride or die, may not be the best to work with- but MC is now family and Thomas [ Barbatos ] will now kill for them. Congratulations on the achievement!

        Will not allow MC to go to openings or any large events alone, and even if they have another cast member with them, he still keeps an eye on them. He gets anxious, and almost paranoid, his younger sister went missing years ago and never got closure. He see's MC not as his missing sister, but as someone who is in need of that older brother figure, and wants to take that role because it feels so natural. He still ends up as that cool asshole uncle, but he likes that too, as long as MC is with him. There are times where MC will need to help him through some issues, just by being a shoulder to lean on, and in turn they get closer. Thomas didn't expect to get close with many people on the cast, other than his old friends, and taking MC into his family was a surprised for all.

        "Come here, ya annoying ass little kid, give me a hug! What! Come here or I'll chase you around his big ass house, MC!"

Diavolo / Roman 

        MC can be the romantic partner for Roman if you'd like, but I just remembered that I made him have triplets, so unless MC is his partner and willing to have kids, Roman would end up as another Uncle/Father figure. If you go the romantic route, Roman is so deeply in love with MC he will sometimes feel empty of he doesn't tell them he loves them everyday. He is attentive, watchful, and optimistic, always bringing fun into the relationship and making MC feel fulfilled and overflowing with love. But, now with the triplets? Love bomb x10, he loves MC with all his soul, he does, but now he realizes the kids come first and appreciates that they do the same. Prefers to be more private though, won't post whatever he does with the kids or anything like that, he doesn't want spotlights on his children when they never asked for it.

        A more platonic/familial relationship though? Best. Man. Ever. Always taking MC out to eat and keeping up with their needs, doesn't baby them, just keeps a watchful and caring eye. Does this with all the younger cast as well. MC will feel loved, safe, and in harmony. He is a wine dad though, so MC will often bring him drinks so he can unwind, even make cocktails time to time just for practice and will make sure to give any tips he can. MC gets a little too tipsy at a party? Well, since he knows where the party is, shoot him a call and he'll pick his 6'5 ass up outta bed to bring MC either to their home or his. 

        "I've got you, always have, always will. I won't ever let you down, because you deserve the world and all the happiness in it, I just hope I can even be a little piece of it. A reason to make you happy."

Luke / Dmitri

        MC is close with Dmitri no matter what, he's always on set, and MC can't seem to let him leave their sight. Kinda like a parent at the park. Won't exactly just stare at their kid, but will always know where they are, and make sure their within a safe distance. Hollywood is full of some sick fucks and MC will be damned if they'd let anything happen to Dmitri. He gets overwhelmed sometimes, will cry and shake, due to holding in stress from the public. MC will teach him how to cook, rather than bake, because food always brings people together and he wants his family to be together in any way he can do it. 

        Spending time with him means spending time with Ross [ Satan ], so MC ends up close with Ross anyway, and will often be filling up Dmitri's Instagram and other social medias. He is the younger brother MC never had and is ready to be another older sibling for him. If the show goes on for multiple seasons, then it will be set in stone, MC and Luke will be a found family along with the rest of the cast.

        "Thank you for everything, MC. I love you, really, and I want you to be as happy as you can be! You're the best and more!"

Simeon / Alex

        Alex [ Simeon ] is another potential love interest/ close friend. This is the only other relationship that can compete with Ross [ Satan ] and Roman [ Diavolo ]. He is known for his temper, but usually plays it up for comedy, and will never actually "blow up" on anyone that isn't deserving of it. He is a sweetheart, but has a tendency to be materialistic, due to his rich upbringing. He knows material things aren't the answer, but it's a habit/mentality he's working on fixing. He prefers to be more affectionate in private, because he wants to enjoy intimacy with MC without the eyes of the public on them, not because he would want to hide their relationship. 

        He is intelligent as fuck, so MC will be filled with the knowledge of the gods, always learning something new and living a student life that isn't more of a student- but someone that has a love for learning. You know Leonardo in Ikevamp? Yeah- that bitch. That's Alex. Even as a friend MC and Alex would always confuse people due to how close they are, which can be annoying if they are with another cast member, but in the end they know the truth.

        "Ah fuck, MC, I'm trying to cook here, ya dork! Don't yank me around the kitchen! Hey! Loving me isn't an excuse to squeeze the life outta me! MC! Don't run now!"

Solomon / Derek

        So, I honestly had Derek [ Solomon ] as the original love interest, going with the childhood friend trope. MC and Derek would be the ultimate set of goals, and living a fantasy life that most people dream of, the thing you'd see if those overly fluffy fan-fictions. Derek is the more caring and nurturing of the two, while MC is more outgoing and aggressive, and manage to find a happy medium between them. Derek has a calming aura around him and yet is the most socially awkward one in the cast- he will put Leviathan's character to shame with some of the things happened in the past. MC is the biggest tease and will have him flushing like a virgin school boy- and it isn't even sexual, he just flusters easily.

        With Lovely and Blue, MC and Derek are known as the babysitters and pet sitters, and are often looking out for the casts pets and children whenever they need it. The couple everyone wants to end up like. You will never see them in scandals, drama, or anything of the sort- even if they become household names, Derek and MC prefer to keep the details of their lives lowkey. I can't see major issues in this relationship, romantic or platonic, because after knowing each other so long, they can communicate in their own ways.

        "Blue, stay stiiiiiiiiill. Fine, leave. MC, come here, I need a pillow and Blue won't love me. Thank you- oh! Now you come, Blue? Jealous much?"

[caldraws]

me and @reedie87 put together something for my siren dmitri au. reed started it, said they didnt have anymore motivation, then i picked up the pieces and did the rest.

the fic is under the cut. have fun, dmitri simps!

General Hubert Galeforce, lead general in the Government, never would have expected what happened at the Wall.

It all started when he paid a visit to his friend Grigori Olyat, warden of the Wall. He had just gotten onto the docks when he heard it. A male voice singing. The song was…entrancing, to say the least. His feet began to move as if they had a mind of their own, moving towards the sound. Hubert felt…a sense of calm wash over him. It’s as if he trusted this voice, like it was the voice of a long-lost friend. Eventually, he found himself standing knee-deep in water, where the song was coming from.

Then…a pair of claws reached out and grabbed him, dragging him under the water. Realizing that it was a siren’s trap far too late, he was pulled deep into the freezing ocean.

As soon as Hubert saw those claws lurching out of the water at him, he knew it was too late. Despite this, he still struggled as he was dragged into the frigid waters, holding desperately onto what was surely his last breath. He found himself face-to-face with the siren, getting a glimpse of a mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth ready to tear into flesh…

…Only for the siren to release him, closing its mouth as confusion filled its expression. Hubert found himself frozen- and not just by the temperature of the water. The siren pulled away slightly, watching Hubert feebly kick his legs in an attempt to get back to the surface with an unreadable expression on its face.

After a moment, it grabbed the human once more- this time almost gently as it swam him back to shore, depositing him in shallower waters before disappearing into the depths once more. As Hubert dragged himself onto shore, coughing and hacking up the water that had managed to get into his lungs, he found his mind being lured back to the siren- by much more than the creature’s voice.

Freezing cold. Pain in his lungs. Scratches in his legs from the claws that grabbed him. Hubert thought he was going to die right then and there. But…the song came back again. This time, not luring him to the ocean, but as if to comfort him.

He couldn’t help but smile as his world drifted to black.

Two weeks have passed since that incident. And yet, it feels as if it was yesterday. The song still rings in Hubert’s mind, as a reminder of what happened. Since then, he’s found himself listening to that song on repeat in his mind. It’s taken over his life, so to speak.

Eventually, he couldn’t help it. He had to see that siren again.

Now, he was telling Grigori everything that happened that night. Everything from the song to the water to being dragged under, only to be spared.

“…So, you met the Wall’s resident siren, then.” Grigori mumbled.

“What?”

“That siren. It normally is seen swimming around the Wall. It helps us get rid of dead bodies and sickly prisoners, so it has some use to us at least.” He hums, tapping his fingers together. “Quite odd that it decided to spare you…but nevermind that. I have someone I want you to meet.”

Almost as if on cue, a very familiar man walked through the door, carrying a cup of coffee, placing it next to Grigori. “Here is your coffee, sir.”

As soon as Hubert made eye contact with the newcomer, he knew it- he- was the siren. He walked on two legs and spoke normally, but there was something about him that made the hair on the back of stand on-end- and his voice was unmistakable as the same that had sung the song that had lured him to the water. The siren introduced himself by the name Dmitri- Hubert wondered how he’d happened upon the name- and, oddly, seemed to be unable to keep his eyes off of the military general.

It wasn’t until the two of them were alone that Hubert got a full, true confirmation- in the form of Dmitri pulling out the hat the human had lost during the run-in with the siren.

“I believe this belongs to you, Hubert Galeforce.” Dmitri held the hat out to the human, a knowing glint in his eyes as the general gawked at him.

“You’re the siren.” The words were hardly more than a whisper under Hubert’s breath, drawing a chuckle from Dmitri.

“Indeed. And you've the handsome, hot as hell human I let get away.” As he spoke, Dmitri slid closer, chuckling softly when he caught the blush that dusted Hubert’s cheeks. The siren slowly leaned until him and the human were nearly touching noses, a smirk on his face as he watched that blush deepen and spread- only for him to pull away and drop the soggy hat into the human’s hands.

“Well, general, it’s best I stop distracting you for now. Meet me at the shore later and we can talk more.” With those final words, Dmitri slipped out of the room, leaving Hubert gaping at the door with a deep blush on his face and a wet hat in his hands.

[theholycovenantrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, KIERSTEN! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF EPHEMERA.

Admin Rosey: There is something incredibly arresting about Ephemera that I thought would be difficult for someone to capture. There’s something powerful and pivotal that surrounds her - it’s why so many had fallen to their feet in order to worship her. Kiersten, you captured that perfectly. Absolutely perfectly. There line that stuck with me, throughout the application, was this:  Ephemera is, quite simply, a terrible beauty. That is what I always saw Ephemera as - terrible and beautiful. The kind that defines the divinity of angels. I am so incredibly excited to welcome Ephemera to the dash, and you to the group! Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Kiersten

Age | 22

Preferred Pronouns | she/her/hers

Activity Level | I’m entering my final year of university with the lightest credit load I’ve had since sophomore year, but I’m also in the process of applying to post-grad programs ( :/ ) and co-editing an anthology for one of the departments here on campus. With that being said, I hope to get a reply out every other day, or once every two days. However, I’m chaotic and oftentimes mean to hold and/or queue replies, but end up flooding the dash. If I could give you a number, it’d be 6/10, realistically, but I’m pretty much always around on Discord to plot and/or chat!

Timezone | EST

Triggers | REMOVED.

How did you find the group?  | #thctalk :*

Current/Past RP Accounts | LINK, LINK, LINK

IN CHARACTER

Character | Ephemera - The Virtue of Prudence (with a FC change to Levy Tran, if you please? uwu)

What drew you to this character? | Ephemera is, quite simply, a terrible beauty. I’ve always been enthralled by angels and their place in different aspects of existence--as messengers, saviors, harbingers of punishment, and more--but I never quite thought of there being an angel like Ephemera and I love her all the more for it. She is a true free spirit, she is the best and worst of God; she is the first mortal to be granted wings and instead of crumbling under the weight of the honor, she rose to the occasion and exceeded expectations. She’s a glorious being deserving of adulation… How could I not be drawn to her? 

What future plots do you have in mind for the character? | 

i. Just as it was God’s folly to give His beguiling creation wings, it was His folly to dictate that she be named Ephemera. There is power in a name, and Ephemera’s literally translates to “something that is enjoyed for only a short amount of time.” How, then, is it her fault that longstanding peace knows no home in her celestial frame? Because of this, I can easily see the Virtue as a near vulture of sorts, just waiting to capitalize upon the misfortune of those beneath her. I don’t think it would be out of character for the conqueror of an angel to pick at the fraying tendrils of peace throughout the lands while Michael and his advisors are none the wiser, instigating discord whenever she deemed it politically smart—for herself, that is. 

ii. It is not often that a deity such as herself sees what could be considered an equal in someone else, but such is the fate of Ephemera and DMITRI. He is the Horseman of Conquest and she is conquest’s keeper—she, who’s known nothing but adulation for her victories as both a mortal and an angel; she, who bested her own Creator at the end… And wouldn’t be opposed to besting the Horsemen, either. I would love to explore the dynamic between these two on a micro-level (with Ephemera trying to strategically mold Dmitri into the harbinger of Death that she believes they are to be, for example), but also the dynamic between them on a macro-level that is inclusive as the HORSEMEN as a unit, as well. One of the oldest tactics of war is to divide and conquer, and the idea crosses the strategist’s mind every time she sees the Pale Horseman. What would it take to force one entity into four, all just ripe for her taking? What would Ephemera give to have such power at her fingertips? Further still, what would she do with that sort of power? 

iii. She could have sworn she was careful enough--she disposed of plucked feathers by fire, she made sure to appear wounded when necessary, and more--and still, she was brought to stand trial for her sins against her Creator. Ephemera certainly did not out herself to God, so who did? With this plot, I would love for Ephemera to search for whoever told her Creator (a CHERUBIM, perhaps?) about her stints as a god in her own right. She is haunted by the mistake even though things have turned out well for her because she doesn’t know what she did wrong--and how could she refrain from repeating her mistake if she knows nothing about it? 

iv. Ephemera is all-too aware of BASTIEN’s obsession with her--her battle stories, her military presence, her sharp mind--and is often annoyed by his incessant behavior, as she finds it difficult to believe that the mortal hasn’t yet realized her disinterest in him stems from the fact that she’s deemed him unworthy of her undivided attention. The angel knows that the Avalos man greedily laps at whatever scraps she deigns to toss his way, and, sometimes, the information she tosses his way is rotten; sometimes, she gives half-truths and embellished accounts of her encyclopedic war accounts, or gives withering comments about his militaristic plans even if she agrees with them for two reasons. The first is that she hopes it negatively impacts the whelp of a mortal enough to leave her alone, and the second is that she hopes it also negatively impacts the mortals’ military forces--especially as times become more and more strenuous between demons, angels, and mortals.  

v. Eternity is a long time to exist without amusement and she is so grateful for CADE BEKKER and his utter disdain for everything, for he is her favorite plaything. She knows he sees her as a beast waiting to be befelled, but does he not know that the Virtue evaded and had a hand in the death of God and has no qualms about doing the same to him? She is content to watch him seethe, but she wants more. I love the idea of Ephemera taunting Cade so much that it eventually does end in a fight--but one that he started, one that she can justify to herself and the others. A Virtue versus a Gifted… What a bellicose event that would be!

vi. The GIFTED are the mortals that catch Ephemera’s attention with begrudging ease (even more so than the REINCARNATED), and of the Gifted, she takes most caution around REVNA VOLK. The Virtue’s mind is her prized possession, and Revna’s very existence serves as a threat to it; as such, Ephemera is keen on keeping an eye on the mortal to ensure that she’s not blindsided by anything she does; when she looks at Revna, she feels feelings of bitterness--not because she thinks she’ll ever fall victim to the Daughter of Lies’ tricks, but because God’s divinity makes a mockery out of her as it settles in Revna’s bones. (Even in death, it seems that God intends to taunt her and keep her chained to Him in some way). This one is really open-ended and it can go a couple of ways: with the angel trying to take Revna under her wing in order to keep herself safe (similar to the way in which God brought her closer to Him despite her transgressions against Him), or she could work to make Revna’s life difficult in the Holy Land by advocating for things that would negatively impact her or keep her from gaining any more traction in the political realm. 

vii. They say that like calls to like and that both angels and demons are but two halves of the same coin—and, perhaps, in the rawest of terms, they are correct. Like the demon that she is, SALOME pulls a viciousness from Ephemera that reminds the angel of the Old Testament God—of a God that was divinely terrible and possessed a haughtiness that so often informed the deliverance of punishments to those who couldn’t help but fall short of the expectations placed on their incapable shoulders. God found it easy to lose Himself in His throes of battle and glory and passion, and there’s a part of Ephemera that clings to His likeness despite her repeated successes at besting Him; she, too, finds herself susceptible to His same weakness. 

Most mistakes made by the Virtue of Prudence are never capitalized on, as they’re so few and far between and tend not to be egregious enough to exploit; however, time is as merciless as she, and it exposes what few chinks do exist in Ephemera’s armor while also giving Salome time to start to understand. I’m really excited to play out the relationship between these two beings, especially as Ephemera simultaneously believes she’s better than Salome, but knows Salome can capitalize on her mistakes--and oh, how she detests the way the demon smiles when she knows the angel has made an error! 

viii. Ephemera feels as though she chose MICHAEL as much as he chose her, which is why she feels comfortable enough to lord her part in Caelum’s creation over his head, should he begin to forget that it was her military brainchild that led to God being tossed from Heaven and her battalions that stifled the even the strongest of Heretic strikes. For now, she is content to remain by his side because he affords her freedoms that God was too cowardly to, but ephemera are not meant to be enjoyed for eternity. What would it take to turn the mind against the body, the Virtue against the one who bequeathed her such an honor? How would the King of Caelum react to being extorted, in a sense, by his own military advisor?

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yea! It be like that sometimes but so long as it makes sense, serves the plot, and befits the glorious conqueror that is Ephemera I am down to clown uwu

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation | 

(Ephemera has always been divine, but she’s not always been an angel; as such, her driving motivation has changed with her!)

  As a MORTAL, Ephemera was driven by SUCCESS. Her life was hard-won and something she snatched without so much of a second thought; she wanted to be brilliant, and so she was. She was the first woman to rally her people to prestige and glory and led them to prosperity with her wisdom and iron-clad fist; she made a lover out of Death time and time again, but always evaded both it and God because she is bigger than them both and her successes attest to this. 

As an ANGEL, however, she quickly realized that successes (even awe-inspiring ones like her own) were dimes a dozen and was left wanting more, wanting something of substance in an eternal life rather than worshipping God without end. She found solace in her own FREE WILL and never looked back—but who can blame her, as she is only adhering to God’s wish for His beloved creations? Ephemera values herself and her freedom above all else, but even she knows that the strongest of generals need legions behind them; she stays aligned with Michael and his kingdom because she wants to, not because she must. 

In-Character Para Sample | 

“What do you have to say for yourself, my child?”

She expects nothing less from God, who loves her so that He wishes to give her a chance to explain herself. Fool, she defiantly thinks as she stands at the throne of her Creator, head unbowed and expression unfazed. The angel waits to respond, forcing an uncomfortable silence upon them both--and God, enraptured with His own work, allows her to do so and again bring attention to His folly. He is steadfast in His love and grace with her especially, as she is closer to his truest loves--his mortals--than any of the other celestial beings that gather to watch the sentencing of the woman whom they believed never truly deserved her place among beings as divine as themselves. 

Ephemera knows what is expected of her: utter repentance, a grand show of regret and sorrow, and a promise to never again commit such an offense against her wondrous Maker again. She has seen it before and it only further stoked her ire against the selfish God that holds her here in a farce of a trial in an attempt to break her will and reinstate His place as both the Alpha and Omega. She will now bow nor will she beg for forgiveness; if anything, He should be prostrate at her throne, begging for her forgiveness as it is His wretched desire to keep his favorite mortal in his dominion like she is a pet. She is unapologetic as she responds, voice unwavering: “I have done no different than You have done Yourself.” 

The silence of the throne room shatters. Cherubim cry out in disgust at such blasphemy; Seraphim gasp and whisper, eyes wide with disgust that someone they called a comrade would do something so heinous. God raises a hand and the outcries stop; He looks to his masterpiece expectantly, and Ephemera continues, “In the presence of Your own omniscience, I spent centuries disguising myself as a mortal to once again feel more than loathing.” 

The pain that flashes across His face is genuine and full of agony; it’s an expression Ephemera knows because she’s seen it flit across the visages of others she’s conquered throughout her lifetimes as Athena and Nike, Minerva and Freya. And still, she does not bend at her knees and profess her love; she remains upright and earnest--and how could she not, when she’s done nothing wrong? 

“My creation,” God says, “you know the cost of such transgressions.” 

She does. She’s heard tales of Moloch and Chemosh and Dagon; she knows the penalty of disobedience is the stripping of wings from bodies. She’s been told of the excruciating pain, of the near demonic screams that spilled from the angels’ lips as God punished them enough to traumatize them with pain, but not enough to offer the sweet outlet of ceasing to exist--and yet, she is more bothered by His language. Ephemera can’t help but bristle as He, even when threatening her with a wingless existence, lays claim to her as though she did not mold herself into the wonder that she is.

“Rip my wings off.” It’s a bold challenge that once again riles the watching masses. They call her a heretic, a foolhardy mortal who deserves to return from the same dust from which she came--and God does nothing but drink in the sight of the beguiling creature at His throne that refuses to pledge her loyalty to Him and not herself. 

How can He condemn her to such a painful existence? She is one of his finest creations.

He lifts a mighty hand and she braces herself for pain, but does not balk or cower. His fingertips run down her ivory plumage, paying careful attention to the places she plucked to masquerade as a mortal. Ephemera clenches her jaw and it remains locked even as His touch leaves her wings. 

“How could I, my Ephemera?” And so, He decides to draw her closer to Him still in spite of her blatant sins against him. She is a Seraphim--His Seraphim--and He all but chains her to Him by revoking her privilege to traverse alongside mortals and ordering that she stay close to His side via pretentious titles such as general, His strategist, His masterpiece, and more.

Ephemera loathes Him all the more for it.  

Extras | 

headcanons.

The Virtue’s wings seem to mimic her sword, in the sense that they, too, glisten as though they were cut from unforgiving ice. Ephemera’s lush, ivory plumage is, upon close inspection, flecked with gold; however, the silver tips of her feathers are far more noticeable, allowing for a more ice-like appearance. When she used to parade as a mortal, she would pluck her own feathers to make her wings less full and easier to conceal. It must be God’s favor, then, that still shines on her, as there is no evidence--save for the phantom sensations prickling against her skin--of her past actions. 

Ephemera’s companions throughout her eternal existence have varied, and they are often depicted at her side by the devoted mortals that dubbed her their goddesses--Nike, Athena, Freya, and Minerva--and etched her glorious likeliness into word, gold, and marble. Her companions, too, came from those devoted mortals, and Ephemera strategically chose which animals to accept as gifts and keep at her side. These animals, kept by the angel throughout her stints as different mortal deities, include: a barn owl, a white King Cobra, a wild boar, and a silver dapple Arabian horse. 

No longer needing an animal to symbolize herself to the mortals of the Old World, Ephemera made the decision to stop keeping companions and instead chose to focus on plans to overthrow God. Since then, however, the angel has acquired a red fox companion--but if you ask her, she would assert that the fox chose her, as the animal followed her home from the forest one night. Ephemera ignored the vixen at first, but soon found herself amused by her wit and overall penchant for chaos. Ephemera named the fox Gloria--a nod to the Latin word ‘gloriae’ that is synonymous with immortal glory, fame, renown, praise, and honor.  

The Virtue of Prudence keeps no written records of her strategies, aside from the plans she gave Michael in response to and as a show of her allegiance to the dissatisfaction that led to the usurping of God. 

Ephemera is, in some capacity, always prepared for battle. Conquest and the desire for victory run rampantly through her veins, and growing comfortable in her surroundings is tantamount to accepting defeat and complacency--both of which, of course, are absolutely unacceptable for this divine conqueror. Because of this, the angel is incredibly observant and never leaves without her sword, even though she has rarely used it since the quelling of the God and, subsequently, Heretics. 

personality inventory.

Nine Moral Alignments: Chaotic Neutral - The Free Spirit

+ | opportunistic, adaptable, innovative -  | self-serving, bellicose, disharmonious

MBTI: INTJ - The Architect + | independent, jane-of-all-trades, driven -  | judgemental, blunt, secretive

Four Temperaments: Choleric 

+ | practical, passionate, ambitious -  | cruel, proud, offensive

additional extras. 

PINTEREST: here

MOCK BLOG: here

[vashchoo]

Thanks to @fever-ish who picked, and was most definitely not forced to pick, some writing prompts for me. Did I write the prompts perfectly?? Ehh... I had fun nonetheless! 

Very short drabbles below.

℧: a damp towel against flushed, feverish skin for Luciano and Jun

Luciano is a very fun loving and lovable bear of a guy.

Jun is more serious and down to earth.

----

“Jun?” Luciano called into his boyfriend’s dark apartment. Jun was meant to meet Luciano at the Italian restaurant an hour ago, but when the other failed to arrive, and he couldn’t get through to him on the phone, concern led him here.

The door was uncharacteristically unlocked, which only added to the worry. 

“Jun?” Luciano let himself in, completely forgetting to remove his shoes as more pressing matters were at hand. “You in here?” 

What if something had happened? What if Jun was laying on the floor bleeding somewhere? What if he had been kidnapped? What if he- 

A loud snore came from the living room, and Luciano couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at what he saw. 

Jun was sprawled across the couch, mouth hanging open, glasses still on, and clinging to a wad of tissues. Speaking of tissues, they were everywhere. The small bin that was near the couch was overflowing onto the floor. 

“Sweetheart.” Luciano said in an endearing tone as he crossed the small space and rested a hand on Jun’s forehead. 

This woke Jun up as he slowly opened and blinked his eyes. “Luciano? Why are you-?”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Luciano soothed, running his fingers through Jun’s hair. “You’re burning up! No wonder you forgot about going out today.” The realization hit Jun like a ton of bricks. “I’m so sorry, Luciano. I’m- K’tshu -‘tshu”

Jun brought the pile of tissues he was holding onto up to his nose and sniffled.

 “You’re sick! These things happen.” Luciano smiled. “I’m here now. I’ll take care of you.” 

He placed his hand on Jun’s forehead again, and then moved to cup his cheek. “You really are warm. Hang on a sec.” Luciano walked out of view, but quickly returned. Carefully he placed a cool rag on Jun’s forehead. “My mom always did this for me when I was little. Hopefully it’ll cool you down some.”

Jun smiled a little. “I am really sorry, but I’m so happy you're here, darling.” 

Luciano smiled back. “Don’t be sorry. I’m just glad it’s not worse. Now sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Jun’s eyes slid closed. “Promise?” Luciano found Jun’s free hand and gave it a squeeze. “Promise.”

✓: waking up either adorably confused or painfully scared for Nikolai

Nikolai my electric boi

Danny is a friend of Nikolai’s that can see ghosts, and likes to drag Nikolai on ghost hunting adventures. 

----

“Nikolai! Hey! Niko!” Danny called. He went to touch Nikolai’s shoulder, but was zapped. This wasn’t good. Danny should have listened more when Nikolai complained about his sore throat, but how was he to know Nikolai also had a fever to accompany it? Honestly, Nikolai probably didn’t realize himself.

Nikolai had decided to faint while the two were trespassing. Danny needed to get him up and out of here.

“Nikolai!” Danny called louder. This seemed to work as his eyes opened. 

“Dmitri?” Nikolai asked.

“No, no it’s Danny. Dmitri isn’t here.” 

“Where did he go?” Nikolai looked around. “What happened to the house? 

Oh no, did the electricity fry his brain? Danny tried to keep calm, but the sun was coming up and he was afraid someone was going to stumble on the two. “We’re not at your home. We’re in an abandoned house, remember?” “There was a duck-” Nikolai began.

“No, there are no ducks. You must have been dreaming.” Danny wanted to shake this fool back into his senses. 

Nikolai blinked a few times. “No ducks. No Dmitri. No Danny-” “No, I’m here.” Danny reminded him. Forget shaking, maybe a good slap would fix him?

Nikolai slowly sat up, hair standing on end from the pent up electric in his body. Eyes glasses and looking as if they were peering at something far away. His breath hitched. “Hi-Hi’kchu!” The flashlight in Danny’s hand made a pop sound before going out. 

Something about the sneeze must have fixed the screw that had come loose in Nikolai’s brain.

“What’s going on? Why am I on the floor?” Nikolai rubbed the back of his head where a knot was forming.

“You fainted, dude. You should have told me you were this sick.” Danny stood, pulling out his cell phone to use as a light. Danny offered a hand to help Nikolai stand, but Nikolai refused since he didn’t want to shock the other.

Nikolai rose to unsteady feet, but after a few seconds he was able to stand without wobbling. “I didn’t know I was, but now that you mention it I feel like trash.”

Danny shone the light towards the direction they needed to go. “Let’s get you out of here before you faint again.” “Yeah.” Nikolai agreed. “I didn’t even want to be here in the first place. You said we were going for ice cream.” Danny laughed. “Why do you fall for that every time?”

✿: feeling so out of it, they need constant attention for Sparrow (& Finch?)

Sparrow can manipulate energy. A bit of a goofball

Finch is his identical twin brother. No magic powers. Puts up with the goofball.

Olivia is Finch’s wife. Puts up with both of them.

---

“Sparrow? What are you doing?” Finch had woken up to use the bathroom, but what he didn’t expect was to find Sparrow in the hallway slumped and leaning his head against the wall at 4am. 

Sparrow looked at his brother. Opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. Words were having a hard time forming. “I needed…. I was….” Sparrow stood up a little straighter. “I can’t remember why I got up.” 

Finch raised an eyebrow. “Then go back to bed. It’s late.”

“Can’t.” Came Sparrow’s reply as he leaned against the wall again. “Can’t move. Don't feel well.”

Finch crossed the small space and laid a hand on Sparrow’s forehead. “You do feel warm. C’mon, we need to get you back into your bed.”

Finch wrapped his arm around Sparrow and led him back into the bedroom, depositing his twin onto the bed, but Sparrow didn’t stay down long. Sparrow almost immediately stood back up, wobbled a bit, but was then guided back to the bed by his brother.

“What are you doing? Sleep!” Finch tried to forcefully lay his brother down.

“Water. I got up earlier to get water.” Sparrow made as if he was going to stand again, but Finch grabbed his shoulders and wouldn’t let him move.

“I’ll go get you some. Just don’t move until I get back.” Finch exited the room, went to the bathroom finally, and got a glass of water from the kitchen. 

But it was short lived as Finch came into the hallway and there was Sparrow leaning against the wall again.

“Are you serious right now?” Finch said.

Sparrow looked at his brother. “I needed water-” “I went to get you water, remember?” Finch held up the glass for his brother to see. 

Sparrow stared at the glass. Seconds passed by before he slumped even harder into the wall looking as if he may collapse any second. “Don’t feel well, Finchy.” 

“I know.” Finch spoke sympathetically. “Let me put the water down, and then I’ll come help you.” 

Finch set the glass on the nightstand in Sparrow's bedroom, before coming back and collecting his twin. 

“Okay, now stay in bed.” Finch tucked his brother in and made to leave, but Sparrow grabbed a hold of the back of his shirt. 

“Stay. For a minute.” Sparrow looked as if he was going to fall asleep any second. 

Finch sighed and slid into the bed as well. “You’re really needy when you’re sick.” 

Sparrow chuckled, but it turned into a cough. 

Suddenly he sat up.

Finch sat up too. “What are you doin-?” “Hech’chu! Etch’chu!” Sparrow angled his sneezes off the side of the bed as pure energy shot out of his mouth. The room lit up from the two blasts. Sparrow let out a sigh and grabbed at the side of his head. “Everything is spinning.”

Finch guided Sparrow back into the bed. “You’re a disaster.”

Sparrow smiled. “I’m your disaster.” “I don’t claim you as mine.” Finch retorted, but also smiled. “Now sleep! It’s late.” 

Sparrow nodded and closed his eyes. 

Finch decided to wait until Sparrow was asleep before going back to the bedroom. He didn’t need his brother wandering the house all night. 

Maybe, maybe Finch will just rest his eyes. He removed his glasses and got comfortable. 

Olivia found them the next morning sharing the bed. She sipped her coffee from the doorway and decided to not bother them. Luckily it was the weekend, and if the two wanted a sleepover who was she to stop them?

[thevengeanceuniverse]

Touch in the Dark Ch 4.2 (Bucky)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23556382/chapters/57374152

“Winter, the boy is here.” James waved to let Dmitri know to bring Tony—no, Stark, he needed to remind himself not to get too attached—in and he left without comment. James had been in a mood all day, unusually snappish and irritable. And he refused to believe it was because of the young man walking through the door who was just shy of 20 years old. Someone much too young to have any kind of effect on him. 

Not to mention that the boy was Steve’s. This whole thing was becoming ridiculous. What he had started out as a game to just mess with Steve and his young paramour had ended up blowing up in his face. But. At least it was just sexual, some negligible attraction probably born from messing with someone who was with Steve.

They’d shared lovers before, just no one that meant anything. Beautiful, nameless one night stands discretely arranged by Natasha’s all-seeing eye that were pleasurable but easy to walk away from in the morning.

Thinking about the people easily walked away from made something chill inside of him and James embraced that cold, let it spread. When Stark walked in, James didn’t bother with a greeting, simply rising and barking out a brisk, “Follow me.”

He idly noted how Stark’s face shuttered at the coldness of James welcome, hiding the hesitant nervousness that had been writ plain on his features. James led the way to the fighting ring housed in the lower basement, three floors down from his office. The mid basement had a shooting range and the higher one had meeting rooms for some of his more paranoid contacts.

Dmitri met them there, hands already wrapped and a fresh roll in his hands that James took.

Nodding his thanks, he pulled Stark to him and lifted his hands. “Watch. You’ll have to do this for yourself next time.” Making sure Stark’s eyes were on his movements, James took his time wrapping the other man’s hands to protect his knuckles.

That done, he gestured to the ring. “A huge part of successful knife-fighting is footwork. You have to be quick on your feet, able to dodge and weave when someone is coming at you. Even while you defend yourself, you have to learn to simultaneously pick apart the openings in their movement and their form, finding the spaces to step in with your own attacks. The best thing to teach you that is boxing, so right now, we’ll start with Dmitri. Any questions?”

Stark’s warm brown eyes were wide and terrified at the quick recitation, revealing his alarm before he seemed to gather his determination. James noted how his hands were clenched into tight fists, but the younger man went into the ring, ducking and entering without hesitation. Dmitri shared a look with James, eloquently conveying his doubt but he also obediently went.

It became abundantly clear that Stark had very little skills whatsoever. Dmitri moved much slower than usual, and while Stark did dodge some hits, his body was stiff and uncomfortable. Dmitri aimed hits in what seemed like a random fashion to Stark’s inexperienced eyes, but James saw the calculation in the different levelled hits. It gave James good context to see Stark hit by multi-levelled attacks, observe how he was more likely to be able to block a mid-range hit to his core or chest than a low-level hit to his legs. 

Sideways movement wasn’t too bad, but he didn’t know how to move backward without stumbling and seemed to have only some awareness of his surroundings. Stark’s surprise was clear on his face when he stepped back to avoid a hit and felt himself hit the ropes, causing him to glance behind him instinctively. Turning back to find a fist heading towards his face, James watched as surprise turned into pure terror and Tony reacted in a full-bodied flinch, arms rising in a desperate bid to protect his head.

Dmitri immediately backed off but Tony didn’t move, body trembling and panicked breathing audible in the silence. Fuck. He was having a panic attack.

James moved swiftly, ordering Dmitri to get some water as he moved into the ring, shrugging off his jacket and draped it across Tony’s trembling shoulders so he could be warmed by the fabric and residual heat. He very gently pulled Tony into a loose embrace that the young man could break if he needed to but would provide warmth and stability as he struggled to emerge from the nightmares in his mind.

James eased Tony down to the floor and pushed his head between his knees, rubbing his back soothingly. He pulled an arm still raised defensively and placed it over his chest, tapping a finger on it that echoed the beat of his heart. “Come on, Tony, that’s it, just breath for me. That’s a good boy, yes, just like that, deep breath in, let it out now, slowly, mhmm, very good, yea just follow me, do you hear that?” James continued to murmur soothing to the man in his arms, letting him rest his head heavily on his shoulder as he concentrated on breathing.

I should have expected this, he reprimanded himself. His mind flashed back again to the first day he met Tony, saving the young man as he was beaten brutally from his father. God, Tony was just like Steve and him, all of them united with legacies of abusive fathers, and he should have known that fighting would bring up horrible memories for him and overwhelm his mind. 

James hadn’t had it as bad in comparison, his own father only drinking near the end, right before the accident. And even then, he and Steve had had each other to hold them up and see them through the tough nights. Tony had a brother to protect and no one to protect him.

Giving up trying to remain distant from Tony, he stroked his hand through the other’s hair and down his back in long motions, offering comfort, offering safety. Slowly, gradually, Tony allowed himself to be consoled, relaxing enough to breathe easily. Lifting his face from where it was resting on James, he pulled away, eyes avoiding James as he struggled to gather his shields. Intimately aware with avoiding people who’ve seen your vulnerabilities, James touched one finger to Tony’s jaw, tilting his head to meet his eyes with Tony’s haunted ones.

“Hey—”

Tony immediately interrupted, voice contrite. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t—”

“I’ll do better next time. I promise. Just, don’t—please don’t give up on me.” James could see the self-flagellation starting to begin and he was quick to cut it off.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of.” When Tony opened his mouth to butt in, James glared. “I’m going to kiss you again if you don’t shut up. And believe me, Steve wouldn’t even mind if he knew it was to stop whatever stupid self-blame that was about to come out of your mouth. So shut it before I shut it for you.”

Tony gaped at the threat but at least for now, he was too shocked to continue whatever toxic cycle was rolling in his head. Mission accomplished.

“Good. What I was saying was that this was my fault. I should have known better than to put a traumatized kid,” he snorted at Tony’s disgruntled expression, “in the ring without easing him in it first. Don’t worry,” at this, he softened his voice, “I’m not going to give up on you. We might have to go a bit slower and watch out for your triggers but we can do this. I can still train you and you’ll still be able to protect yourself and your loved ones.”

“Yea?” James felt his heart twist at the wet, hopeful look in Tony’s eyes. Damn, this boy was dangerous, no wonder Steve couldn’t say no to him.

“Yea.” Trading smiles with Tony, he rose to his feet, extending a hand to help him up. His mind noted the softness of Tony’s palms after nearly a year of little manual labour and he sighed, mourning the loss of that softness in the near future.

Catching himself for those ridiculous thoughts, he shook it off and led Tony back upstairs where Dmitri met them in the hallway.

“I took the liberty to prepare some food in the living room for the young man to eat if he desires, Winter.” He informed him in Russian. “It might do him some good to have something warm in his stomach.” Reminded once again of why Dmitri was his second, James clapped him on the shoulder and smiled, giving his thanks before letting his friend go eat his own dinner.

A couple of bowls of a rice stew waited for them in the living room, positioned on the coffee table with a couple of glasses and a pitcher of water. It was simple fare, fragrant and filling without being too heavy.

Dmitri knew that James sometimes liked to take his meals here, able to relax against the cushions of the couch easier than at his empty dinner table. James walked over to the arched windows, pulling down the heavy drapes on top of the gauzy ones to block any direct views from passersby or would-be assassins both. Then he made his way to the marble fireplace, kneeling in front to stack wood and tossing in a match to create a fire to warm the cold room. That done, he settled into the armchair, letting Tony take the couch and pouring them both some water. 

The shaken man smiled in thanks before digging in ravenously. They ate in silence for a bit, both too concentrated on their stomachs to talk. Eventually Tony sat back, leaning his head against the backrest to gaze at the ceiling and cradling another glass of water between his knees, raising it to his lips every now and then. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Tony turned his head on the cushions, looking at James curiously.

“For letting you get triggered like that. Steve trusted me to look out for you and I did a shit job of it. I’m sorry.”

Tony just looked at James, soft honeyed eyes examining him before he sat up. “I’ll forgive you if you answer one question.” He waited for James’ agreement before speaking. “The kiss…” he paused, considering what he wanted to ask before blurting out, “Is that normal?”

James’ eyebrows came together in confusion at Tony’s question. “Is what normal?”

“The feelings.” Tony seemed to have pushed the words out through force of will and red flooded his cheeks. “It’s just, Steve is my first and I didn’t think I would feel anything, for anyone other than him because I love him.” His words held a combination of worry and fear and James realizes that enjoying their kiss had frightened Tony. He was worried that it meant he was a bad partner, no awareness that sometimes skill could cause pleasure just as much as feelings.

James ignored the voice in his head that reminded him that it wasn’t skill that made him lose himself, or forget that the kiss was a ploy to mess with Steve.

That voice could fuck off.

“Listen, sweetheart,” he said rising and pulling Tony to his feet and into his arms. Tony’s eyes widened comically at the endearment and James’ closeness, but he was curious and waited to see what James would do. James’ mind spun with the knowledge of Tony’s innocence, even after months of being with Steve. “I’m going to teach you something, okay?” He kept his voice soft and questioning, and Tony gave a hesitant nod.

James stroked a hand up Tony’s back the way he had before, when he was soothing him. The movement relaxed him the same way this time that it had then, so James took it a step further, squeezing the nape of Tony’s neck with his hand. He dug the pads of his fingers into the muscles there, applying firm pressure and massaging into Tony’s skull. Tony went pliant, eyes fluttering in pleasure and mouth opening in a moan. James was amazed at how sensitive he was, how eager he was to drop at a pleasurable touch.

Unable to resist, James brought up his right hand and dragged his nails lightly up the side of Tony’s neck, inwardly delighting in his responding shiver. He dropped the hand massaging Tony’s nape and curved the arm around his waist, using the other hovering by his neck to cup his head and pull him closer until there were mere inches between their lips.

“Tony, look at me,” he murmured, soft words landing lightly on Tony’s lips as he tilted his head under James’ direction. He followed so sweetly that James had a moment’s envy for Steve. Honeyed eyes met his as Tony hmmed a questioning noise.

“This feels good, doesn’t it? Being held by me?” There was a dazed blink before the words seemed to filter in and the fog started to clear up in Tony’s eyes. Hurriedly, panicked hands rose to press against James’ chest, preparing to push away. James buried his hand back in Tony’s curls and resumed massaging Tony’s nape, quieting him and trying not to feel the thrill that went through him at Tony’s acquiescence. Knowing he had to be careful not to push Tony over the edge, he eased back just enough to squash the rising guilt and panic he could see in Tony’s eyes.

“It’s okay,” James soothed, watching as Tony’s eyes flickered from one eye to the next. “It feels good, doesn’t it?” He kept stroking lightly, waiting for Tony’s tentative nod. “But here,” he untangled his hand from Tony’s soft hair to press against his heart, “it doesn’t feel the same, does it?” Tony’s forehead crinkled in confusion and James laughed.

“Close your eyes.” He obeyed. “Now, think about Steve, and think about Steve touching you, his hands replacing my own.” The crease eased a bit but James saw that he still didn’t fully understand, thinking rather than feeling the memory of Steve’s touch. He brought his mouth close to Tony’s ear as he continued speaking, each breath a tantalizing brush that made Tony sensitive to every point where their bodies connected.

“Think about him, the way he holds you against him, his hands caressing your body, his lips on yours…Touching you, surrounding you,” his voice went even lower, “inside you.” Tony gasped and his eyes opened wide.

“You get it now, don’t you? I can please your body but Steve, it all means more just because it’s him. Because you love him.” And with that, he stepped back, walking with studied casualness to his armchair and dropping down, crossing his ankle over his knee.

“Okay mal’chik, it’s getting late so get out of here before Steve comes hunting you down.”

Tony seemed frozen in place, body still trembling. As James watched, he blinked a few times like a dreamer waking from sleep before sucking in a deep breath and pulling himself together.

“What does that mean?” Tony cleared his throat, words coming out less choked sounding. “That word you call me.”

James laughed. “Gay boy.”

Tony’s eyebrows rose. “Wait, but you called me that before I got together with Steve. How did you know I liked men before I did?”

“You were obvious.” James rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure there was drool when you so much as looked at Steve.”

Tony blushed again but he didn’t shy away. “I was eager for a taste.” Pink tongue flickered out to lick his lips illustratively and James had a vision of Tony swallowing Steve down just as eagerly as he enjoyed a massage, almost groaning out loud at the stab of lust he felt.

Fuck. Someone should not have the right to be so innocent and lusty at the same time, it was messing with James’ head. He probably needed to get himself a new lover. Someone who didn’t have blond hair and Irish skin or—god forbid—soft curls and a lithe body.

With a last grin, Tony left with Jeremy the driver as an escort and James relaxed in his chair, catching the scent of Tony on his clothes when he moved, that distinct blend of oranges and cream. Conflicted, he reflected how in one evening, Tony became Stark became Tony and James had the sneaking suspicion there was no going back.

[izloveshorses]

Birds on the Wing

Inspired by this <3

read on ao3!

~~~

Dmitry didn’t know what to do.

Anya was fidgeting in her seat, the beams of light from the stage reflecting off of her blue dress making her glow. He was trying to focus on the ballet, but his nerves were wretched, and… well, how could you ignore someone as radiant as her?

Like a fool, he’d almost kissed her. Falling in love with the girl in the parade wasn’t part of the plan. He kept reminding himself to keep his nerve and see this through to the end, but it wasn’t getting any easier.

She was suffocating her silk glove when he lost whatever control he had and reached over to wrap her fingers into his. Immediately, she stilled, but she didn’t relax into her seat like he’d hoped. With the orchestra screaming for attention, and with everything on his mind, he didn’t blame her. It was pretty overwhelming. She squeezed his hand and jumped up from her seat and hurried out into the hallway. His hand was cold without her warmth— he was cold and bitter without her in his life.

Heart in his throat, Dmitry followed her to the hallway, letting the door close softly behind him. Anya was several paces ahead, walking briskly through the lobby.

“Anya?” he called. She didn’t slow down, so he ran to catch up to her. “Anya what—” he tugged at her wrist and she whipped around, furiously wiping away tears. Oh no, did he make her cry? “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head.

“Anya, it’s okay, just tell me—”

She flung her arms around his neck and sobbed once into his shoulder. At first he had no idea what to do— this wasn’t the first time he had to comfort her, but she had never hugged him before. He slowly wrapped his arms around her waist underneath her train, holding her as tight as he could, hoping this would help sooth whatever was hurting her. Why had he waited this long to embrace her like this?

“Do you think I’m ready?” Her question was muffled by her sobs and his suit collar.

“Of course,” he whispered into her hair.

“What if,” she pulled away, but her hands still lingered on his chest. “What if she doesn’t remember me? What if she doesn’t even like me? What if—”

“Hey, she’ll love you.” If Anya could cradle this cold and bitter conman’s heart— the heart he willingly gave to her— surely melting the Dowager’s icy walls would be no different.

Thank god he didn’t say that thought out loud.

She shook her head. “And what if she does?”

“What?”

“What if she does like me? What will I do then?” Her gaze dropped to his lapel, unable to meet his eye. “What then… would you… what will happen to us?”

His heart skipped a beat. Did she mean she was conflicted about this as well? Was she wondering if the circumstances were different, would they have started something more?

They were standing so close, perhaps the closest they’d ever been, even, but it wasn’t close enough. Anya’s hand was resting on his heart and the other was holding his collar, fingers tightening and loosening, like she was deciding something. She started to take a step away but he covered her hand with his, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. They were both wearing gloves but his skin burned at her touch. Could she feel his heart pounding underneath her palm? He bent down, forcing her to meet his eyes.

Instead of raising his head up again, he cautiously rested his forehead against hers, drinking her in. She didn’t let go of his gaze this time, except when her eyes flickered down to his lips, answering all of his questions.

The distant music from the performance seemed to fade and everything was Anya; her dress felt a bit scratchy under his hand, the radiant blue fabric incomparable to her eyes, eyes that could put the stars to shame, and he was close enough to count every individual freckle on her cheeks. In exchange for his self-control he got a fleeting dash of courage and his grip on her back tightened just a bit. She inhaled and moved even closer until her nose brushed against his. He pressed his nose into her cheek. She was so close, he could feel her breath on his skin, and it would be so easy to close the gap. Oh god, he wanted to press her up against a pillar and kiss her until he couldn’t breathe, and then she’d trail her fingers through his hair, and then… where would they be? Whatever insane courage he had flowing through his nerves faltered at the thought so he pulled away a fraction. But she was almost magnetized to him— she followed, and once again they were dangerously close. It was a dance of sorts, forward then back, close then distant. They were waltzing precariously close to the edge of a wonderful, beautiful, impossible dream.

He just had to move an inch closer…

The muffled applause of the theatre brought Dmitry back to his senses. His stomach was still somersaulting and his skin still tingled where they touched, but his courage was gone. Foolish. Foolish for thinking he could kiss her, foolish for not following through.

He was suddenly aware of the orchestra dancing across his heart, of where they were, of how close they were standing. Too soon, guests were filing out of the theatre and into the lobby. Whatever privacy they had in their already-fragile moment was broken. Yet… he wasn’t ready to pull away. Her heartbreakingly blue eyes were searching his for an answer. Where will you go, she seemed to ask. What will happen after this?

One of her hands slid down to hold his forearm, the other still rested on his heart underneath his palm. He lifted it to press a kiss to her knuckles.

“We will celebrate after,” he whispered, embarrassed by the scratchiness of his voice, “on your grandfather’s bridge.” No matter what happens, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. A silent promise.

He cradled her hands and she took a shaky breath. “I’m ready.” She gave him a slow, sad smile.

In spite of himself the corner of his mouth turned upwards. He would’ve been content to stand there, in this moment just for them, if it weren’t for Vlad standing by the door, catching his eye. He gave Dmitry one solemn shake of his had and walked towards them, Lily trailing behind.

Anya turned but still clung to his hand at her side. He gave her a comforting squeeze, unnoticeable to anyone not paying attention.

He gestured for her to follow them, cleared his throat, mustered up his usual confidence, and then addressed Lily, “You will announce the Grand Duchess, Anastasia Romanov!”

“Come, darling!” Lily chirped, taking Anya by the elbow. “We don’t want to keep her waiting.”

Anya gave him one last hopeful smile over her shoulder and her hand slipped from his fingers. It took every ounce of willpower he had left to keep his feet planted where they were instead of following her. He clenched his hand into a fist, already missing her, a silly notion considering she was just on the other side of the door, and he wasn’t planning on leaving. To cope with the immediate dread and cold left in her place he kept reminding himself of what was to come— she’d find her family, he’d get some cash. But he knew letting her go would destroy him.

As Anya walked away from him into the Dowager’s private box, the train of her dress fluttering gently behind her, Dmitry swore he saw a bird taking flight.

[satinechristian]

Dmitry had no intention of stepping within ten feet of the Dowager Empress ever again in his life. He had introduced her to Any-no, Anastasia, and saw them reunited and had disappeared into the Paris night. Then he had been stuck in limbo. There was nothing left for him in St Petersburg after nearly thirty years of life there, and after less than a week in Paris there was nothing left for him here either. The world was a blank canvas for him, and for a man who had been so tied up in strings his entire life, tied to a different pulse point he couldn’t quite make out, to be completely tetherless left him without any sense of where to go. 

So he had found a cheaper hotel to sleep in that night. Ones that reminded him of the holes in the wall that had been sprinkled throughout their journey from St Petersburg to Paris. How strange for every corner of a life you had yet to live to be littered with the ghost of a girl you were never supposed to know. 

He had gone out for breakfast, when Vlad had found him. Gone were their brothers in arms days. Vlad was fully and happily ensconced in the glittery world of the Countess and remaining Russian royalty and aristocracy. 

“Am I so easily found?” Dmitry asked him. 

“There’s only so many places a Russian immigrant can go in Paris,” Vlad responded, once again pointing out Dmitry’s own limitations. “The Dowager would like an audience with you.”

Dmitry was immediately suspicious, “I think the two of us have seen all that we’ve wanted to see of each other.”

“Dmitry, my boy,” Vlad clasped a hand on his shoulder. “She’s not a woman you say no to.”

“My father was an anarchist,” Dmitry returned. “She’s exactly the type of person he taught me to say no to.”  

“Humor me,” Vlad attempted. “It’ll give you a chance to come get your belongings.” 

What an argument to make. Dmitry had no belongings. The only thing he had come to Paris with was his heart, and he wasn’t even leaving with that. 

After Dmitry’s silence continued, Vlad said, “She’s not at the hotel. You won’t run into her.” 

Dmitry was not a coward, but he had no fight left in him. He had to fight to survive, fight to get Anya here, fight to be heard. There was no fight left over for his dignity. “If Marie will come to me there, I’ll see her.”

“No wonder they called you the Prince of Petersburg,” Vlad teased, his tone only slightly bittersweet. 

Dmitry met the former Empress of Russia in tattered clothing that was only a step or two above the outfit he had worn when he first met her granddaughter at that parade long ago. 

“Dmitry,” she greeted him, her chin tilted up high. 

Her profile was similar to that of her granddaughter’s, the chin and the nose. 

“Madam,” he returned, staying where he stood in the middle of the hotel suite living room. “You wished to see me?”

“We had some unfinished business, you and I,” she said, and she shifted her satchel, opening it to retrieve something. “Money is always such an unpleasant business, but I’ve come to understand it’s a necessary evil.”

This was a woman who had stood in diamonds and pearls in a giant palace while all of Russia had bled beneath her. Then abandoned it for Paris the moment things had grown uncomfortable for her. He was not surprised to find there was much she didn’t understand about money. 

“Not so necessary at this time,” Dmitry returned, holding a hand up. “I have no need for your reward.”

She looked up, stopping in her search in her satchel, her eyes studying him long and hard before responding. “A reward well earned, however, the young woman you reunited me with was my granddaughter.”

“I know,” he said softly. Then, “Knowing she is Anastasia, and is reunited with her remaining family, is reward enough for me.”

The Dmitry with an empty stomach, no home and a chill in his bones that never went away even long after the Russian winters had melted would have scoffed at such a stance. The Dmitry that stood there now had a comfortably full stomach, slightly less empty pockets and a less intense need for greener pastures. 

“What a romantic you turned out to be,” Marie reflected. He waited for the next wave, the mocking tone of her voice as she pointed out the ridiculousness of someone like him even thinking about her precious Anastasia but it never came. Instead she smiled in his direction, not at him but more like she was looking at a memory. “My Nicky was careless with his love, too.”

Her Nicky had been careless with a lot more than that, but it was neither the time nor place to point it out. 

“Ma’am?” He asked her. 

She shook her head, the foggy gaze of a memory leaving her face. “Where will you go now?”

“I’ve the world at my feet, I can go anywhere.” It was not an answer but he neither had one nor needed to give her one. It was also not true. Russia was no longer an option for him. 

“At least allow me to supply you with the transportation to leave,” she said. 

Well, that was one way to take care of him and set him away from the mess he had entangled himself in and keep him away from the Grand Duchess and her debut. 

The thing was, Dmitry had nowhere to be and if he didn’t take an opportunity to leave he would just linger. Forever sitting with the ghosts of his past, until he became one himself. 

His father had always taught him to look to the future but Dmitry had always been enraptured by what was underneath the dust of the past. He could bring old things back to their original glory, and had made his money at it back in Petersburg. At the time, he had thought he was merely exploiting others nostalgia for how things were, rather than keeping one foot firmly there himself. 

“If you insist,” he ceded.

“Thank you,” she said even though she was now the one doing the favor for him. “I’ll have the car pick you up tonight, around eighteen hundred?”

“At the hotel?” He asked. He could always just disappear on his own. Dmitry liked having options. 

Marie shook her head, “Just wait for it at the Ponte Alexander.”

Of course. 

“Thank you, Madam.”

“Thank you, Dmitry,” she responded, and her hands lightly brushed his arm as she passed. “Even spending one more day with my Anastasia has been worth it.” 

Knowing the girl in question, he completely understood that sentiment but he did not verbally return it. 

Maybe some of his dignity would fight to stay intact. 

Dmitry went back to his own rooms after that. He had Vlad’s suitcase and nothing much in it and hours to kill before his ride out would arrive. 

Until then, he could figure out which land was the land where he could form no attachments and move forward with his life. 

Ignoring that those concepts were nearly contradictory, of course.

[prvntcessa]

listen up 10s a 4 is speaking! shdlaskhd what’s up sluts i’m cherry, i’m 21, use she/her pronouns and live in PST! this is mischa, princess of the russian mafia. she wears black lipstick, is massive scammer, laughs at videos of people falling down the stairs. here is a shorter sparknotes version of her bio and some fun and fresh headcannons

please enjoy this gif of mischa cosplaying indie xoxo

SPARKNOTES BIO! 

skeleton: the career criminal

name: mischa dostoyevsky ( formally xia han)

age: 25

gender: female

pronouns: she/her

fc: natasha liu bordizzo

born as xia to a dirt poor family of literal SCAM artists. we luv a scamily babey! her parents basically sold fraudulent anti-aging serum to dumb, white new york tourists everyday ( with the added bonus of her older brother dressed up like an OLD ASS MAN doing cartwheels n backflips like woooow this stuff really works! ) her job was basically sneaking through the crowd of people while they were distracted and pick-pocketing their money, valuables, shiny shit etc.  

that white savior guilt money was paying the bills until one of the karens they conned got hives from the allergic reaction to the red food dye they used in the fake serum and her brothers literal Old Man disguise flew off like 90s rapper fly away pants when it was windy as fuck one day so basically The Authorities Have Been Called Luv, the police showed up and xia didn’t know what to do bc she was a kid so she just BOLTED AND RAN ... does not know what happened to her family to this day

grew up on the street, continued the family business of being a fcking scammer and basically bought tampons by telling power walking, baby backpacking ladies that she was gonna have to feed little timmy cockroaches if they didn’t pay off, slept with crooked stock brokers, seduced old guys, cleaned out their apartments, stole all their money, jewels, watches, credit cards, priceless antiques -- THE WORLD WAS HER SUGAR DADDI BB

all of this changed on day when she making her nightly run by the alibi, a bar she called Dumb Rich Guy Bar and saw a weird old guy come out looooaded with what looked expensive shit,  but she really wanted his pocketwatch which from her experience was mad expensive. so she did her lil routine and THOUGHT she stole the watch but LOL SPIDERMAN MEME, he stole the watch back and the ring she was wearing AND HIS BODY GUARD HAD A GUN PLACED ON HER. MMM WHATCHA SAY

so turns out the weird old guy she tried to steal from was VLADIMIR DOSTOYEVSKY!!!! THE HEAD OF THE RUSSIAN FUCKING MAFIA. yiiiiikes! lmao she was like cool im gonna die but he was like hold up, u chose the pocket watch, the only real and valuable thing i was wearing ... i like u ur smart u have fire, u remind me of my dead wife  YOU WILL BE MY SUCCESSOR ur name is now mischa for my unborn son and i will teach u the ropes

so there is no more xia, only mischa, basically adopted by vladimir who she calls dad/nana and who calls her rabbit as a nickname (they play monopoly every night and VLAD CHEATS EVERY TIME BRO). she is the only girl in the bratva aka The Brotherhood which is what the russian mafia is called. shes kind of their wendy. shes worshipped outwardly but theres probably a lot of people that hate her ... which leads me to ........PAPA DYING! BIG RIP OG PAPA! he was poisoned at dinner and people say it was the italians but mischa is sure it was an inside job

bc of vlad dying *pour one out for vladdy daddy* mischa is head of the bratva aka russian mafia they call her PAPA bc thats how people refer to the mob boss SO SDHLLKDSH

ALSO PLOT TWIST! originally the plate that killed her dad was the plate she was given but he switched with her bc his piece of chicken was bigger and he wanted her to have it :((((( SO THE POISON PLATE WAS HER PLATE SO SOMEONE WAS TRYNA KILL HER DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN

ok here are HCS they are from the bottom of my app xx

nicknames include who’s your papa, big papa and daddy purely because it’s iconic. but also she is probably that gifset where rihanna is talking abt how shes a bad bitch w top energy but is a massive bottom ahdlaks

mischa i think has to look a certain way of looking when dealing w the mob ( sort of girl boss, designer clothes, femme fatale ) but i think she is relatively unlady-like and prefers ratty jeans, plaid skirts, flannels, black combat boots, messy ponytails and the like when she’s relaxing. reminds her of life before.

practices makeup on dmitri and boris (her body guards) who complain a lot but also love her xoxo 

owns a very big fluffy, luxurious cat named perogi, he’s her son, a gift from dear old dad. 

has a pretty severe drinking problem ( vodka on the rocks is the poison ) after her father died and sleeps with a gun ( although i think she's better with a knife )

thus can drink you under the table also swears like an old sailor man ( is working on it, the whole mob sighs when she calls japanese businessmen idiot douche canoe fuckbags to their faces during monthly debt collections )

mischa can speak 5 languages in order to speak to people all over the world: madarin ( from her childhood ), english, russian ( mob ), spanish and french. 

pansexual queen and i want to say scorpio 

she’s grateful obviously to папа doing more off the grid, low quality criminal stuff without supervision because she is a truant, tramp, scam artist cat burglar klepto at heart <3

cinnamon roll meme: looks like she could kill you and would probably kill you

so i want to say she probably met the star of the show doing something where she snuck out at night with her bodyguards not knowing, wore her civilian clothes, blended in kept her head down because she missed freedom and accidentally met them out there like that under a pseudonym to hide her mafia life/continued to sneak out to see them like that before being exposed. very double life stuff angsty secret mafia princess stuff. we love hannah mon-mafia.

scared her parents will resurface/past will resurface ( supposedly папа bribed the police but . . . karma is a bitch )

has A LOT of suitors meant to strengthen The Empire and bridge conflicts between mobs but cares little, them: 💕, her: hocks a loogie and wipes on pants … she SUCSKSSKSS

has burped at important business dinners before and simultaneously has brought massive mafiosos to their knees. literally will have your dick cut off if you say something misogynistic, racist or something about her father :) she has a collection. ( its a big collection, but still quite little if you know what i mean )

rumored to have killed a man with the sharp end of her louboutin.

has a slight accent just from being surrounded by it constantly and word switches

smells like cinnamon and scraped knees

[talisragnell]

"Nothing fucks with my baby" with Dmi and Zeke? 👀

Ratings: M

Warnings: Blood, Torture, Violence, Pissed Off Demon Boyfriend

Pairing: Ezekiel Raines x Dmitry Voronin

Notes: Dmitry belongs to the amazing and wonderful @viciousdeliciousv3

“Now, we’ll try this again. Tell us his weaknesses.”

Zeke laughed, the sound harsh and humorless. His wrists were cuffed in iron and chained above his head, his toes barely touching the cold stone floor. It was hard to breathe and the room was hazy with smoke from the many candles placed around it. He was aching and sore, covered in bruises and cuts. He was pretty sure at least one of his ribs was broken, with how much it hurt when he inhaled. The worst of all, though, was that the skin on his wrists was charred black from his bonds.

“Well?” the man snapped, his hand harshly grabbing Zeke by the chin as he forced him to look up at him. He was tall and broad, with long red hair and dead blue eyes. So full of rage and hurt that they’d just stopped feeling. He almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

“He doesn’t have one,” Zeke said flatly. “Even if he did, do you really think he’d tell anyone? He’s not stupid, which is more than I can say for my present company.”

Zeke saw the man’s arm draw back and did his best to relax his muscles, knowing it’d minimize the damage. But doing that on command when he knew pain was coming? Well, that was easier said than done.

The man’s fist collided with his cheek and Zeke’s head snapped to the side hard. He let out a soft groan of pain. The fucker really knew how to throw a punch at the very least.

“Little shit,” the man spat. “You just never shut up, do you?”

Zeke laughed, a hard and sharp edge to it this time, inky black blood trickling out of his mouth, “Oh, they really didn’t tell you about me, did they?”

The man simply glared at him in response, turning to mess with the rather nasty looking tools assembled on the nearby table, so Zeke continued.

“You know, maybe we should get to know each other a little better. Have a chat. I mean, we both know you’re going to kill me in the end. So why not get some things off your chest? It’s not like I can tell anyone.”

The man stayed silent, picking up a nasty looking iron knife and examined its edge.

Zeke took a deep breath to steady himself, the burning in his wrists reminding him exactly what iron would do to him. He already felt heavy, weak, drained. Disconnected from everything. He couldn’t feel life anywhere, and it was maddening. He needed to keep up his charade though, had to, wouldn’t let them see him weak. He’d had enough of that in his life.

Giving himself more time to plan an escape would be nice too, of course.

He licked his bloodied lips, “Maybe we could talk about how angry and removed you are. You didn’t get much emotional support as a child, did you?”

The man slowly turned to face him and he knew he’d hit the mark. “You’re pretty obviously a professional and you stand like ex-military. Dad was too, wasn’t he? Never home and you could never please him, no matter how hard you tried. And fuck, did you try. Never could please your old man though, never were good enough…”

“Shut the fuck up,” the man hissed, striding across the room with the fast, jerky movements of someone holding in far more anger than they were showing.

He pressed the knife under Zeke’s chin, tilting his head up and smirking at the way smoke rose the moment iron touched the faerie’s skin, “You think you’re just so fucking clever, don’t you?”

Zeke forced a lazy smirk through the sizzling, nauseating pain, arching an eyebrow and tilting his head to the side, away from the blade, “Oh boy, they really didn’t tell you about me.”

The man paused, frowning, “What?”

“Knives…” Zeke laughed and waggled his eyebrows suggestively, “Knives turn me on, asshole.”

The kidnapper considered him for a moment, then pulled the blade away from the faerie’s chin. A dark smirk slid over his face like oil over stale water, and Zeke’s eyes went wide with horror. Then…

Pain.

Metal so cold it burned, sliding between his ribs.

Smoke rolled out of the wound and the cold of the iron seeped into his blood, making his entire body scream. A hollow feeling swept over him and he was vaguely aware of the fact that he wasn’t breathing normally, dizziness overtaking him as his vision went fuzzy around the edges.

“Do knives still turn you on now, smartass?” the man hissed out, a gleeful grin on his face.

Zeke opened his mouth to speak, but the only sound he managed to make was a muffled groan. His mind was a mess, and on some level he knew he was going into shock, but he couldn’t plan. The only thing he could think of was a demon lord in his empty manse, and it broke his heart.

“Now,” the man hissed. “I’m going to go get the healer and they’ll patch you right up. And then… We can keep doing this until you tell me the truth. As long as it takes.”

Zeke’s vision flickered for a moment and he shook his head to clear it. It took him a moment to realize it was the candles, the flames nearly going out then flaring back to life in a mad frenzy. Shadows danced with wild abandon, somehow seeming to grow even darker. Denser. Deeper.

The kidnapper slowly pulled the blade out and turned to survey the room, brow furrowing in confusion. The candles stilled, but the eerie darkness remained. Hunched over them like a brooding beast.

“What the hell was that?” the man hissed, and Zeke could see the fear in his eyes.

Zeke smiled a sharp smile, sharp as broken glass, as the thick metal door shook. There was only one thing he’d ever seen that could pull off something like that.

“Oh, you are so fucked.”

The door flew inward, tearing from its reinforced hinges and slamming into the far wall with enough force to crack the stone.

In the doorway was a deep, black shadow. Darker than anything else around it, it stayed there for a moment, perfectly still.

Then it lifted its head, making it obvious that it had been a figure all along. It was shaped vaguely like a man with curving horns and graceful claws, everything about him brutally elegant, a mixture of opposites. The stillness of his form amongst the moving shadows, the sheer amount of power held in a form that didn’t seem quite substantial. Something shifted behind him and Zeke was sure he could make out a pair of black wings. Raven wings.

His Raven King.

Brilliant gold eyes met Zeke’s, the only color in the shifting darkness. The shadows gathered around the demon, and Zeke saw them slowly take shape. They twisted themselves into the forms of hands, hands that flexed languidly and grew wickedly sharp claws.

His kidnapper trembled where he’d fled, pressed back against the wall so hard that he looked as if he was trying to phase through it. Somehow, he was still holding onto the iron knife.

The one that was coated with Zeke’s black blood.

The demon turned sharply towards the man and stalked towards him. When he tried to raise his knife in a shaking hand, a shadow wrapped around his hand and crushed it with a sickening crunch. The man let out a broken cry and Zeke watched through a pained haze. He watched as the shadow hands lifted the man off the floor, slamming him back against the wall.

They held him there, restraining him, and Zeke could see the helplessness in his eyes. The pleading. The desperation. All of the things that he himself had experienced over the past few days. Even as foggy as his mind was, he could only think one thing:

Good.

He deserved it, with all he’d done, with all the pain he’d caused. Not only to him, but doubtlessly to many, many people before him.

The demon pressed his face in close to the man’s, breathing black smoke into his face from between dangerously pointed fangs. Fierce gold eyes watched as claws tore into him, slowly at first, then faster.

Tearing flesh, cracking bone.

Blood splattered the walls as the man screamed, then went silent, but the demon just kept going. He tore the man apart with his bare hands, slashing and cutting and carving and breaking until nothing was left.

And like that, in less than a minute, nothing was left of his tormentor but a bloody pile that looked nothing like a human.

Zeke watched silently as the demon allowed the hands to fade back into harmless shadow. He turned and made his way over to him, considering him in his bonds. His eyes had been so full of fire before, but now they just looked sad. Shattered, seeing him like this.

The demon seemed almost afraid to touch him, leaning his head in close but not touching him. Like he was worried Zeke wouldn’t want him near him with what he’d seen.

Zeke felt something in him break, his voice soft as he spoke one word without fear, “Dmi?”

Dmi looked at him, but still didn’t touch him.

“Dmi,” Zeke repeated softly, tilting his head enough that his forehead brushed the demon’s.

His lover’s restraint snapped then and his clawed hands carefully cradled Zeke’s face, nuzzling him gently.

Zeke let out a soft noise of relief as the shadows easily sliced through the iron cuffs on his wrists. It felt so good to be free that he didn’t even realize he was falling until he found himself in the demon’s arms.

He wasted no time in burying his face in the demon’s neck, body too weak and sore to allow him to do much else. He stayed there for a long moment, silent as tears began to run down his face.

Fuck, how did Dmi always manage to make him feel so safe?

He felt warm for the first time in days, even as he sobbed softly into his lover’s shoulder. He didn’t even have the strength to lift his agonizingly sore arms to properly embrace him, which only made him cry more. Rage, terror, hopelessness, frustration, and plenty of other emotions Zeke wasn’t even sure he had a name for came pouring out of him. He was just ready to go home.

Zeke hardly even noticed the shadows has they slowly evaporated from Dmi’s skin. They were dissipating rather quickly, and some part of him knew that was a good thing.

Wasn’t it?

He wasn’t so sure. Things were going so…

Cloudy. Hazy.

Numb.

His body sagged in Dmi’s arms as a heavy darkness blanketed itself over him. He heard…

Echoing. Frantic.

“Zeke? No no no no. Wake up.”

He felt himself being shaken gently, felt ever-warm hands on his face. The last thing he saw was panicked gold eyes, pleading.

“Ezekiel?”

[controloffandoms]

Going Solo (A.M.)

Prompt: Imagine with mac. Pleaseeeee. I love him.

Pairing: Macgyver x reader

Words: 3941 (I’m not sorry)

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping and torture (not graphic), blood, knives, brass knuckles, guns, cursing

Notes: We’re just gonna see where this goes. My only concern...I tend to go angsty without a prompt given...let’s see what happens :)

Somewhere that isn’t home

Mac never understood how he could get himself into all of the situations he got himself into. He thought for once he could have the weekend off and just relax at home after a long string of missions that led to an exhausted and beat up team.

Apparently he just wasn’t meant to rest...ever. The second he woke up, he knew something was wrong. He wasn’t on his comfy bed and his arms were held tightly behind his back by rope.

As he looked, he could see the rest of his team were in similar positions. “Mac, you up buddy,” Jack called from across the room.

“Yeah,” he rasped, trying to make a plan to escape...the only problem was that was he had absolutely no clue where they were, if they were being watched, or if there were any traps.

“Now would be a good time for your amazing macgyver tricks,” Jack responded.

“What do you think I’m trying to figure out,” Mac growled.

“I thought we went home,” Riley sighed.

“We did...apparently someone didn’t get the memo that it was time for rest,” Bozer scoffed.

_____________________________

A couple hours later...we don’t really know where yet.

Mac finally let his body slump as the offender left the room. He and his team mates had just been through a round of torture and still weren’t sure why they had been brought to...wherever they were. The offender hadn’t said anything, only started to cut/burn/beat them when he had entered.

“Y’all okay,” Jack asked.

“I think okay is the wrong word to use, Jack,” Riley answered.

“I’d be better if I knew why we were here,” Mac responded.

“I’d be okay if I was at home,” Bozer sighed.

“Y’all are talking, so I’m taking that as an okay,” Jack stated. “So how are we getting out of here, Mac?”

Mac sighed. He’d been trying to figure a way to get everyone out, but he had no pocket knife, there was nothing sharp around that he could try to cut the ropes on his hands. He’d tried moving his hands around to slip them out of the rope, but whomever tied them certainly knew what he or she was doing. He’d even tried popping his thumb out of its socket to give him a little bit of room to slip through the rope, but to no avail.

“Uh, still working on that,” he finally replied.

__________________________________

Phoenix Foundation….Somewhere in Los Angeles

You entered Matty’s office and took a seat in one of the available chairs. “Thank you for coming in on such short notice, (y/n). This is Trish, she’ll be running your cyber needs on this mission.”

You nodded and gave the tech a small smile and nod, “whatcha got for me,” you asked.

“I was calling another team back in to finish up their files on the last case and couldn’t reach them. I sent agents to their residences where the members were gone. Some of them showed signs of a struggle, others not. I need you to find and bring my guys home,” Matty responded.

“Any idea who took them?”

Matty shook her head, a couple of pictures flying up to the board. “As of now, nothing is pointing to any suspects. These are common enemies for the team. Murdoc, whom I’m sure you remember, is at the top of the list. The team’s last mission dealt with the Russian underground led by Dmitri Patriglovich. The team was unable to capture him but took down most of the underground.”

“Alright, which team is this,” you asked.

Matty pressed a button on her remote and the pictures on the screen changed. “Angus Macgyver, Jack Dalton, Riley Davis, and Wilt Bozer.”

“Okay, I’ll do my thing,” you responded and motioned for Trish to follow you. You were trying to not let your emotions show. You and Mac had just started seeing each other a couple months earlier...you didn’t want to be taken off the case because of personal feelings. You headed to a conference room, turning the frosted glass on. You could tell that Matty didn’t want anyone else knowing that one of her top teams was missing.

You didn’t work with a team. The types of missions you did were far too dangerous to coordinate with another person, let alone a whole team. “Okay Trish, pull up all of the surveillance cameras around the areas of each of their houses. Run anything that looks suspicious with the videos of the other houses. Any faces pop up, you run them against the open and closed files from this team. Call me at this number,” you handed her a piece of paper, “if you find anything or run into dead ends. I’m going to go search their houses thoroughly.”

Without waiting for a response, you walked out of the room and to your car.

________________________

Four Hours Later...We’ve finally found Mac...Abandoned Hospital in L.A.

The people who’d taken Mac and his team hadn’t made it easy to find them. Of course, that meant you were dealing with a more put together group. You swear, if they had touched a hair on his head...oh you were going to kill them all.

You infiltrated the abandoned hospital without detection. The gun in your leg holster made you uncomfortable. You hated carrying guns, but that was the only way they let you operate. Of course, you’d barely ever used it. If there was another way to get out of a situation, you did that instead...using one just reminded you of a bad time in your life that you didn’t want to relive.

You ducked into a room as you heard footsteps coming down the hall. You waited until they were right outside the door and jumped them. You used your arm to cut off his air supply, pulling him into the room and taking the radio and gun from him. You took the gun apart and put the bullets in another room.

You continued down the hallway, cautiously looking around to make sure no one would blow your cover too soon. You also hoped that someone would make enough noise to let you know where they were. You didn’t want to have to search the whole abandoned hospital for them.

You heard a door open and quickly placed yourself in another room. You carefully looked out to see where the men were coming from. You could see one of them wiping a bloody knife off as they walked past the opening. Your blood boiled, obviously they’d hurt one or more of the team and you were guessing that the team was through the door they’d come out.

As you saw them turn the corner, you exited from your hiding spot and quietly opened the door you’d seen the men exit. It led you to a stairway. Usually, if you were holding someone captive, you didn’t want to do it where there were windows meaning that they wouldn’t have taken them up the stairs. They would have put them on the bottom floor.

You grabbed a knife from its sheath on your other leg and held it tightly in your grip as you walked down the stairs. In case there was anyone other than the team down there, you wanted to be prepared.

As you reached the bottom, you walked to the first door you saw and peaked in. You could see computers hooked up and on with surveillance footage pulled up. You also saw three men monitoring them. On one of the screens you saw the team. They looked pretty busted up and you could feel your anger growing. You took two of your throwing knives out and threw them, perfectly hitting a kill shot on two of the men. Before the third could do anything, you used the knife in your hand to end his life.

Usually you would do everything in your power not to kill the bastards so you could interrogate them later...but after what these fuckers had done, you doubted Matty expected you to keep many of them alive. Plus, this way it would keep all of you safer. They wouldn’t be able to wake up and sound the alarm.

You looked at the screens seeing movement on the upper floors, but they should be fine up there while you got the team free. You set the camera in the room on a loop just in case there was someone else watching from somewhere else.

You made your way to the next couple of rooms, all of them empty until you got to the last one. You pushed the door open slowly, taking in your surroundings, seeing a couple of relieved faces. “Yes, the cavalry's here,” Jack exclaimed before going into a coughing fit.

After being completely sure there was nothing/no one hostile in the room, you worked on cutting the team from their bonds. “I seem to remember a time, Dalton, when you told me you would never want my help.”

He gave you a bloody smile and you rolled your eyes. “You know I love having ya around.”

You gave a short laugh before freeing Jack last. Mac was leaning against a beam for support and Riley was already being helped by Bozer. “Right, Dalton, help Mac out. If things get hairy, I’ll let you borrow my gun,” you stated.

“You have a gun? I thought you and Mac were on the same page with those,” Jack stated.

You rolled your eyes, going to answer him before Mac beat you to it. “Just because someone doesn’t like guns doesn’t mean they won’t use them if that’s all they’ve got. I’ve had to use one plenty of times...besides, (Y/N) has to have one in order to be without a team.”

“Macbrainy is right,” you stated, taking the lead and searching for threats as everyone slowly made their way out of the hospital. “We’re in the basement,” you whispered and turned into the room with the computer screens, forgetting to warn the crew of the dead bodies as they followed you in.

You emotionlessly shoved the guy that was on the keyboard to the floor and started to put all of the cameras on loop so that no one could sound the alarm of the group’s escape. When you were finished, you wiped the blood onto your jeans and turned to the team. “Right, we’re set. We’re going to go up the stairwell over here just one flight. I’ll scope the area to make sure it’s clear and you all will follow after. If it all goes to shit, Dalton gets my gun and you guys get the hell out of here. I’ll buy you time and before any of you say anything. I can take care of myself. I’m worried about you. You’re my mission. There is a car parked a mile away from the front of this hospital, due west,” you watched each of them nod, Mac giving you a small smile.

You took the lead again and entered the stairwell. As you made it to the top, the door started to open. You didn’t think twice as you used the knife in your hand to sever the man’s carotid artery. The arterial spray felt warm on your neck and face, but you didn’t let that stop you. You pulled the body off to the side of the door and opened it, thankfully not met with any more men.

You could hear the others follow you. Before you could react, you saw a group of men turn the corner. In their moment of shock, you pulled two throwing knives out and hit two of the group. That seemed to get the group moving. Before they got to you, you called back to the team you were protecting, “I’m just gonna deal with these guys and then we’ll get you to a place that actually has an exit.”

You blocked the first man’s fist, but caught another’s foot to the stomach, sending you back slightly. You hit one of them in the jugular with one of your knives before seeing someone move to take a stab at the team behind you. Using the person in front of you as a spring, you tackled the man moving towards Dalton and Mac.

He put up a fight, but you were able to get your arms around his neck to snap it eventually. You threw another knife at someone else’s leg.

The fight lasted longer than you were expecting. They had a weapons expert with them and had gotten quite a few licks in on you before you had killed him. “Come on,” you told the group. You hadn’t let any of them get into the fray...you couldn’t let any of them get hurt worse than they were. It was your mission to get them all out in one piece.

Of course, as fate would have it, someone had radioed in your escape attempt. You were soon met with a hoard of people. Unlatching the gun from your thigh, you aimed it at the group. Reaching into your waistband, you pulled one you had gotten off one of the men that had attacked you and tossed it to Dalton who caught it with ease.

“When I say run, you’re going to go out the door to my right and you aren’t going to argue. You will continue to run to the car I have waiting and if I am not at that five minutes after you are, you leave without me. Understood,” you asked to the group hovering at your back.

“I’m not leaving you,” Mac responded.

You quickly turned to him, glaring. “You will leave me if I’m not there. That is an order. You will wait no longer than five minutes and then you will drive away and not stop.” You handed the keys to the vehicle to Jack who just gave you a firm nod.

You turned back to the men who were raising their weapons, expecting you to lower yours. You put your hand in one of your many pockets and pulled out three smoke bombs. You threw them on the ground and yelled, “run.”

You fired off a few shots at the men that were behind the smoke screen, running out the door after Mac, Jack, Bozer, and Riley had. You watched as they hit the treeline and you ran the opposite, hoping that if anyone saw which way you ran before you could hit the treeline, they’d follow you, thinking that you were running in the same direction as the others.

You didn’t falter in your running as you felt a bullet pierce your arm. Nor did you hesitate to point the gun behind you and shoot. You knew that you wouldn’t make it to the car in time. You’d have an assload of the Russian Underground after you and you couldn’t lead them to the car.

__________________________

Four Hours Later...What? It was a long walk….Phoenix Foundation...Somewhere in L.A.

You let the tension drain from your shoulders as you walked through the doors of the Phoenix Foundation’s doors. You couldn’t wait to be able to go back home and sit in a bath to let your muscles fully relax and wipe away the hours of running and the blood and grime from the day.

You headed to Matty’s office, letting a soft smile appear on your face as you saw that Mac and the others were still there but had obviously been looked over by a medical team. You wiped the smile off your face as you walked into the room. “It’s about time you got back. Stop at an ice cream store on your way back,” Matty crassly asked. You knew she was only doing it out of worry.

“Yeah. Decided to invite my lovely followers to a chat over ice cream. We all became the best of friends,” you replied, but you could tell that the tiredness and pain was starting to edge into your voice as Mac stood up carefully and came over to you, gently pushing you into the chair he’d previously been in.

“We can debrief later, if you would prefer. I know that you were coming off a forty-six hour mission when I called you in,” Matty stated, voice a little gentler this time.

You gave her a small smile. “No, when I leave today, I don’t want to be back for a couple of days. When Trish had figured out where the cars had been dumped, I did a recon. I got there just as they burst into flames. I was able to put one out and extract a gps. After giving it to Trish, she found a location of an abandoned hospital. With nothing else to go on and it having already been a day in captivity for them, I booked it to the building. I left the car a mile west of the hospital and entered. I ran into one man and knocked him out. I hid from others to get a feel for where Mac, Jack, Boz, and Riley were being held. I observed a man with a bloody knife coming out of a door and decided to enter that door. It was a stairwell and I guessed they’d be in the basement. Upon entering the basement, there was a monitoring room, I killed the three guards and put the room the team was in on loop so that if anyone else was watching the feed, they wouldn’t be too suspicious.”

You took a moment to breath before continuing. “After getting them free, I put all the cameras on loop. I had told Dalton that if we were to run into problems that I couldn’t handle by myself, I’d give him my gun. As we were about to exit the stairwell, a hostile came through it. I killed him and exited the stairwell. Before I completely cleared the hall, the team had followed me out and we were met with about six men coming around the corner. I took care of them. Turning the corner, we realized someone must have radioed in our escape. I gave Dalton a gun I’d gotten off one of our attackers and told them to wait for my signal to run like hell to the car. I told them that if I wasn’t there within five minutes of them reaching the car, to leave without me. I gave Dalton the keys. I used smoke pellets as a distraction to allow the team to run. I fired shots from my gun in their direction then ran out after the team. I went a separate direction as I saw Riley and Bozer hit the treeline knowing that someone would probably see me before I could reach the treeline.

“I was right. They fired at me and followed me into the treeline. There was no way for me to meet up with the others, so I came up with a plan B and was able to lose mostly everyone. I ended up having to take care a few that ended up putting innocent lives in danger. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, so I used one of the showers at the beach to get most of the blood and dirt off of myself. I borrowed a woman’s clothes when she wasn’t looking and tried to blend in until I could come back here. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t followed, so I took a long route to get here on foot.”

“Have your after action report on my desk by next week, that goes for all of you. You all have earned some time off. Unless it’s something urgent, plan to be gone until next week,” Matty stated.

Everyone started to move towards to the door. You stayed where you were, not sure you could get yourself out of the chair after having slightly relaxed into it. Not to mention every move you made hurt like hell. While you hadn’t lied to Matty...you hadn’t told her how injured you were. You may have left out the part where five of the men had come at you with brass knuckles, breaking some of your ribs.

Mac, having noticed that you’d stayed put, halted his movements and returned to your side. “You okay,” he asked.

Dalton had stopped as well and Matty was now giving you a look you knew all too well. “Yeah...chair’s just comfy after having been on my feet for seven hours, running around and whatnot.”

You gripped the arms of the chair and pushed yourself up, clenching your jaw at the pain that came with the move. You also had to will yourself not to vomit, nor to fall with the wave of dizziness that hit you.

Placing a hand on Mac’s shoulder as you felt yourself tilt, you knew you couldn’t hide it. “Actually,” you huffed, “I think they broke my ribs...and I might have lost some blood today,” you added as an afterthought.

Jack had approached you by now, putting your arm around his shoulders. You hissed as the movement cause your ribs to move as well. Not to mention, the bullet wound you’d sustained was on that shoulder as well. A red spot started to grow on the shirt you had on. Apparently it was now bleeding through the bandage you’d put on it. “You got shot,” Jack deadpanned, “and waited until now to tell us.”

Mac took your other arm around his shoulder as Jack carefully lowered your other arm. “I was too busy trying to make sure you and the others got to safety to care about anything my body felt.”

Mac let something out of his throat that sounded like a growl as he responded, “you were just going to go back to your place and what? Stitch yourself up, hope one of your ribs doesn’t puncture a lung? Are you that stupid?”

You stopped walking, ultimately making him stop. “It’s not like I haven’t done this sort of thing before.”

“You put yourself in danger all the time. You don’t work with a team...what if you end up getting killed? Or you’re taken captive? Who’s going to let Matty know you’re okay during a long mission?”

“What is this really about, Mac,” you groaned. You really didn’t want to deal with your concerned boyfriend at the moment.

“What is this about? This is about you! What if you don’t come back from a mission because you had no one to watch your back?! I would never get to see you again. Hug you or kiss you again. You go out there not caring what happens to you but I care about what happens to you. I care about what happens to you because I love you, damn it! I love you so fucking much but you seem to not give a shit about any of it!”

“And what gave you that idea, Angus? I didn’t want to worry you! After you left the office, I was going to go to med bay and get checked out! I’m not a complete dumbass!”

Mac and you stared at one another, neither of you saying anything for a while.

“Mac,” you quietly called.

“Yeah,” he answered back.

“I love you too,” you stated.

Mac didn’t waste a second before his lips crashed to yours in a short, but loving kiss. “Glad to hear it...now let’s get you checked out.”

To the Anon that requested anything to do with Mac! I hope you enjoyed it!!!

If anyone wants to be added to a taglist for Macgyver or anyone/any fandom I write for, lemme know!

[butcanyoujustimagine]

Once Upon a December PII Moana

Summary: Eleven Years Later, Moana still hasn’t regained her memory and an unsuspecting visitor shows up. 

Eleven years—that’s how long it had been since the day I was brought into foster care. Eleven years since I was found on the side of the road. Eleven years since my entire life probably changed for the worst. I wasn't always an orphan.

I looked down at the locket that had been hanging around my neck for those eleven years. Made of gold and encrusted in what was probably platinum and adorned with emeralds, sapphires, diamonds and pearls, I saw the words, ‘together in Paris’ engraved in elegant script in the metal.  I held it close to my chest and closed my eyes longingly. Someone was waiting for me there, hopefully. The only question was who. Who was waiting for me in Paris?

Looking up at the Soldier making a speech to the rededication of Honolulu, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at him. Everybody clapped and I scoffed.

“They can call it Kalakauakulanakahale, but it’ll always be Honolulu! New name, same empty stomachs!” I groaned.

“You could be arrested for saying that, Moana,” Mrs Kim said. “You need to learn to watch your mouth.”

I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes. “They tell us times are better, but newsflash, they’re not. Can’t cook an empty promise in an empty pot! A brighter day is dawning, it’s almost at hand! The skies are blue, the walls have ears, and one who argues mysteriously disappears!”

Everyone chorused after me. “Hail our brave new land!”

I ducked out of sight when a Soldier came walking towards me. He had no doubt heard my outburst of sarcasm.

“Honolulu is lovely. A city on the rise.” Someone said.

“It’s really very friendly,” my brother Dmitry Romanov shout.

“If you don’t mind spies,” my other foster brother Dylan O’Connor said.

“We love to stand in bread lines, to get our mouldy bread!” A stranger added.

“We’re good and loyal comrades and our favourite colour’s red!” The people cheered.

I popped out from behind the wall. “Now everyone is equal, and professors push the brooms. Two dozen total strangers stuck into two small rooms. You hold a revolution and this shit’s the price you pay!” I scoffed.

“Mahalo iāʻoe no nā lono!” Someone shouted. (Thank you for the rumours!)

“Thank god for all the gossip that gets our asses through the day!” Another person added. I nodded my head in agreement.

“HAVE YOU HEARD!” a girl shouted running towards us, waving a flyer in her hand like it was a flag of some sort... “THERE’S A RUMOUR IN HONOLULU! HAVE YOU HEARD WHAT WHAT THEY'RE SAYING ON THE STREET?”

“What?” I asked.

“All though the King did not survive, his youngest child may be still alive.” She whispered.

“The Princess Auli’ilani?” I asked, in shock. I couldn’t believe it. It was probably just some rumour.

She shushed me. “But please do not repeat.”

“It’s a rumour, a legend, a mystery. Something whispered in an alleyway or through a crack. It’s a rumour, that’s part of Hawai’ian History,” Dmitry said.

Akea Ngata, a big buff Maori guy from New Zealand looked down at his phone. “It says he royal Grandmama will pay a royal some, to someone who can bring the princess back.”

I heard a man muttering something under his breath. He was old, had grey hair and a beard. His skin had sunken in from the lack of food. Stress had taken its toll on him. “Honolulu was lovely when the United States and Royalty were in. I called myself a Senator as I had been elected. I hobnobbed with the Royals and then a change of luck. The was dead, State and Federal Senators fled and now comrades now we’re stuck!” He walked off. Why did that man look familiar? Did I know him from somewhere?

“I’ll see you back at St Anne’s,” I said to them. My brothers nodded and we all went our separate ways.

“A dollar for this painting. It belonged to Royalty, I swear!”

“Count Akamai’s Pajamas, comrade buy the pair!” Another vendor hollered to tourists and locals alike.

“I found this in the Mansion, initialled, with an ‘A’ it could be Auli’ilani’s, now what will someone pay!” someone hollered.

Looking over, I saw a young man dressed in sunglasses and a hat turned away towards any sight of cameras.

“How much for that music box?” He asked. He was British, and yet his voice sounded so familiar to her. Where did she know him from?

“Tom, are you sure this going to work?” asked a much young younger voice. He was dressed in the same attire. A black polo shirt, khaki shorts, and a pair of nice shoes. Or what the rest of the world called sneakers, runners, or trainers.  

“There’s more to being a Princess than wearing a Tiara and a prop! How do you even know it’s the real bloody thing?” asked another guy. Why were they all dressed the same?

“Tom, we should get out of here. This isn’t a good idea to be here without security,” a much younger voice said. He had to be fourteen, maybe fifteen years old. “You know what mum’ll say.”

“I’m doing what the doctor said. If she really is an amnesiac, maybe this’ll help jog her memory,” the first one pointed out.

“We still don’t know if it’s real or not.” said the last one.

“The music box? It’s a genuine Kawananakoa, I could never part with it!” The vendor pleaded. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and it reminded me of an old foster kid I knew long ago.

“Two cans of beans, comrade?” asked the oldest boy.

“Here,” he said. Soon, there was a flock of people chasing after the Street Vendor.

Then, I heard a loud noise that reminded me of a gunshot. I screamed and cowered against a brick wall. “NO!” I cried out in horror. “No, please!”

The soldier who made the speech jumped out and helped me up. Looking into his brown eyes, they were filled with kindness and compassion. Something I had never seen from any soldier before. “It was just a truck backfiring, comrade. That’s all it was. Those days are over now, neighbour against neighbour. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Oh, god, you’re freezing. There’s a tea shop just around the corner, let me…”

I cut him off. Though his eyes might’ve been kind, growing up in foster care and on the streets of O’ahu had taught me one thing: DON’T TRUST SOLDIERS! They could be part of the Secret Police. “No thank you,” trying to push away, his muscular body stopped me from running.

“What’s your hurry?” He asked me, this time his tone a bit more serious.

I swallowed my fear. “I need to go home - my family’s waiting for me,” I said.

“Oh, then let me give you a ride!” He smiled. “It’ll be much quicker than walking.” He opened the door for me and we got in. “Where are you going?” He asked me as he started the car and drove through the streets of O’ahu.

“St Anne’s Home for Troubled Souls,” I responded.

He laughed. “You don’t have an accent!” He laughed. “I thought they were all foreigners and men!”

“I was born in Hawai’i and I’m the only girl,” I responded. At least, I assumed I was born in Hawaii.

Soon, after a bunch of awkward silence, we made it to St Anne’s. Towering over the beautiful landscape was a mansion all boarded up and in need of a paint job. The roof was probably caving in and so were the floorboards. It was very haunted by the ghosts of fallen Polynesian Warriors, a Kahuna who hated everyone who wasn’t Polynesian, dead nuns and priests, lunatic doctors who did terrible things to their patients, dead patients, and murder victims. But still, living here was better than being homeless.

The next day, I was looking out the window at the ocean. A cigarette in my hand, I didn’t care that it would give me lung cancer in the long run. I longed to sail on the ocean and go to worlds unknown. At least that would get me out of Hawaii.

“MOANA, В АВТОМОБИЛЕ В АВТОМОБИЛЕ!” I heard my foster brother Dmitry Romanov shout at the top of his lungs and my thoughts were pulled away from my unknown past and future. (MOANA, THERE’S A CAR IN THE DRIVEWAY!)

“Chết tiệt, đó là gia đình hoàng gia Anh!” My other brother Stanley Dai whispered. (Damn, it’s the British Royal Family!)

“De jeito nenhum!” Andre Carvalho cried. (No fucking way!)

I ran towards the door and saw my brothers bolt towards the one window that wasn't boarded up. If it were true, I had to fucking see this. I pushed my way through my brothers and saw a black limo parked in the driveway. A man with brown curly hair, dressed in khaki shorts and sunglasses came out. “Is that your cousin?” I heard Dylan O’Connor ask Dmitry.

“I think so,” Dmitry whispered.

We could hear what they were saying through the glass window. “Why would she live here, Mum? Here of all places?”

“Auli’i was fond of causing trouble,” Tom shrugged. “I remember that from when we were little?”

“Why does he seem so familiar?” I asked the boys.

“Because he’s been on the cover of every single bloody magazine to date,” Akea said in a ‘duh’ tone.

I rolled my eyes, but he was right. The Crowned-Prince Thomas and his little brothers Harry and Sam walked to the front door and rang the bell. Dmitry got up and opened it.

“Hello, St Anne’s Home for Troubled Souls, why is the Crowned Prince of Great Britain knocking on our door?” He asked. His thick Russian accent shining through. 

“I’m looking for someone,” Tom said. “Someone who’s supposed to live here. She doesn’t go by the name anymore, but her name is Auli’ilani. Everyone calls her Auli’i for short.”

Dmitry scoffed. “Up the hill, you can find the graves,” he began to shut the door.

“WAIT!” Tom hollered. “Wait! She might go by the name Moana.”

I perked up. All the eyes turned to me. Why did he want me? Me of all people. Hell, I considered smoking a past time, I worked for a crime family, I didn’t do well when it came to authority and I was a professional procrastinator. Why did he want me? I wasn’t cut-out to be a Princess—let alone a Queen.

I don’t know what came over me. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I walked over to the door, dressed in nothing but sweatpants, one of my brother’s hoodies, and miss-matching socks. “What do you want, Mas?” I asked.

“Did she just call you Mas?” asked the youngest boy who came flying out of the car and running up towards us.

“BE CAREFUL! YOU MIGHT TRIP!” I hollered. I couldn’t help myself. Having to raise me made me a compulsive caretaker.

“Why’d you call me Mas?” Tom asked, a bit in shock.

“I dunno, just felt right,” I said. I grabbed a cigarette from my hoodie’s pockets. “Want a smoke?”

“Happily,” Tom smiled. I handed him a cigarette and he lit his and mine with a lighter with his family crest engraved on it.  I had no doubt it was custom made. He was next-in-line for the Throne, he could afford stuff like that.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Now, why’d you just call me ‘Mas?’” Tom asked me. “I’ll only ask this once.”

“Sounds like you’re threatening me, but let me tell you one thing, Your Royal Pain in the Ass, I’ve met people a hell of a lot scarier than you,” I told him with a smirk on my face. “I’m not scared of you. I’m not scared of any of you.” I looked outside and saw one of the Royal Guards walking towards Kahuna Hill. “CAN’T YOU FUCKIN’ READ!? IT SAYS ‘KEEP OUT’ FOR A FUCKING REASON!”

“What do you remember?” asked the Queen of Great Britain, a bit shocked at my outburst at one of their guards. “What do you know?”

“Know of what?” I scoffed.  

“Your past,” Tom said. “What do you know of your past?”

I sighed and looked out at the ocean my ancestors had sailed thousands of years before. Everything felt like clouds of mist. Every time I close my eyes I try to remember, but nothing comes back to me.  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t even know my name.”

“How’d you not know your own name?” The young boy asked me. He seemed in shock, and he had every right to be. Not many people respond with ‘I don’t even know my own name.’

“The doctors gave me a name at the hospital...Moana. They told me I had amnesia and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it.” I sighed.

“What do you remember?” Tom asked me. “Let’s start there.”

I sighed and stared off into the vast ocean once again. “Well, if you insist. They said I was found by the side of a road. There were tracks all around and for the first time in a hundred years, it had recently snowed. In the darkness and cold with the wind in the trees, laid a girl with no name and no memories but these. Rain against a window. Dirty sheets upon a bed. Terrified of the nurses that were whispering overhead. ‘He said to call the child Moana. Give the child a hat!’ I don’t know a thing before that.

Travelling the back roads. Sleeping in the woods. Taking what I needed and working when I could. Keeping up my courage and foolish as it seems, at night all alone in my dreams. In my dreams, shadows call. I see a light at the end of a hall. Then my dreams fade away. But I know it all will come back, one day.”

“Nossa irmã perdeu isso,” André whispered to someone. (Our sister’s lost it.)

“I dream of a city beyond all compare. Is it Paris? Paris. A beautiful river and a bridge by a square. And I hear someone whisper, ‘I’ll meet you right there.’ In Paris, Paris.” I snapped back into reality. No one wanted to hear the sob story. “You don’t know what it’s like,” I snapped. “Not to know who you are.” I felt tears come to my eyes. “To have lived in the shadows and travelled so far. I’ve seen flashes of fire, heard the echoes of screams but I still have this faith in the truth of my dreams. In my dreams, it’s all real and my heart has so much to reveal. And my dreams seem to say. Don’t be afraid to go on, don’t give up hope, come what may. I know it all will come back, one day!”

“Она потеряла его. Она ушла.” Dmitry said. (She’s lost it. She’s gone.)

“Those days are long over now.” I sighed, drying my eyes. “Go, have a nice day. Sorry, you came all the way out here for nothing. Enjoy searching for someone who’s dead.”

Tom then pulled out a music box. “This belonged to her,” Tom said. “Do you recognise it?”

“It’s a fake, Tom!” groaned Harry. “Give it a rest, Tom!”

It wasn’t the fact that it made with platinum, gold, silver, and diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds. It wasn’t the fact that it was in pristine condition. It was the fact that it had a little wave sticking up at the top that caught my eye. It was a keyhole it had on the side and an inscription.

Hui pū ma Paris. it said. That translated into: together in Paris—the same thing it said on my necklace. I carefully took the box from the Crowned Prince and placed my necklace into the hole. Turning it three times to the right, it opened. A song began playing. But I didn’t pay attention to that.

Looking up at the house where the Royal Family was slaughtered, I bolted out the door and ran upstairs.

The shouts and screams of my brothers could be heard from behind me, but I didn’t care. Going around Kahuna Hill and avoiding Murder’s Hideaway, I made my way to the old house. Pushing open the door, I felt a flood of memories come back to me.

I heard the music box still playing, the lyrics came back to me.

Dancing bears painted wings Things I almost remember And a song, someone sings Once upon a December Someone holds me safe and warm Horses prance through a thunderstorm Figures dancing gracefully across my memories

“Something’s not right.”

“Shut up, Moana. If they wanted to do something, they would have done it by now.”

“Sit on your mother’s lap. Akea, stand next to your father. Smile for the cameras.”

Far away, long ago Glowing dim as an ember Things that I used to know Things I used to remember And a song, someone sings Once upon a December

“Yeah, I don't know how I got to Hawaii, Your Majesties. All I know is that I’m here and these people are my family. I guess I’m related to you through Queen Victoria.” Dmitry explained. “MOANA! MOANA, IT’S NOT SAFE TO BE IN THERE!”

Before coming out, I pulled the bag of diamonds I had kept on me for years and kept it in my hand. “Okay, so I’ll humour you. If I really am the Princess, I’d be dead. The government would’ve already found me. I mean, I’m living here. How do I know this isn’t some prank set-up by Dmitry?”

“Ever since archeologists stated they didn’t find your body, we’d been looking for you. We managed to track you down through a bite mark…” the Queen said.

I cut her off. “That can be inaccurate,” I said. “In fact, one of the leading people in bitemark analysis stated that it isn’t accurate and shouldn’t be used as evidence in a court of law,” I pointed out. “A bite-mark analysis means jack-shit to me.”

“We know that,” Tom said. “From your many trips to the emergency room, they have your DNA on record from blood tests doctors have run on you…”

“Wow, isn’t your family Royal Stalkers,” I scoffed, gripping the bag of precious stones closer to me as if one of my brothers would come up and take it out of my hand. I sighed and looked over at the British Royal Family. “So go on after you hacked into my medical files. What did you learn?”

They were shocked by my outburst. I don’t think anyone has talked to them like that. “Well, uh, we learned that you have a specific type of anemia that ran within the Hawaiian Royal Family, hemolytic anemia?” Tom asked.

“It’s mild, I don’t need to take medication. The doctors presumed I had a bone marrow transplant sometime before I entered foster care,” I said. “I have the scar on my hip from an injection.”

“Your mother gave you the injection, your blood type is also RH-null,” Tom said. He was looking at his phone.

“Okay, Your Royal Creepiness, even if I am the long-lost princess, when the government finds out, I’d be dead faster than you can blink? How the hell am I not dead now?” I asked, a little shaken that he knew all that about me. I’d need to talk to their hackers, see if I could learn a few things from them.

“Because they don’t know about you or you have an ally in the government,” the Queen said. Her accent sounded posh and she was dressed in a fancy knee-length dress that wasn’t meant for running around the property. It had to be expensive too, though I didn’t have a degree in fashion. “They’re probably covering for you.”

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “Why are you really here? Is it for charity work?” I asked. I’d had enough of them trying to convince me that I was a dead person. She died along with her family, that needed to be accepted by people like me. “I can’t break an old woman’s heart for money. I can’t do that to the grandmother. I can’t do that to the extended Hawaiian Royal Family.”

“All of which agree that you’re her!” the youngest pointed out. He was jumping down excitedly. “You have to be. You have the same coloured eyes!”

“It’s called heterochromia,” I sighed. “It’s not life-threatening. It’s just cool.”  

“Please, Moana,” Tom pleaded with us. “Give us a chance. We’ll help you earn your memory back. You won’t have to go through life knowing something missing. You must wanna know who your parents are.”

“According to you, they’re ‘King Keanu Kawananakoa and Queen Ashley Kawananakoa,’” I scoffed.  

“Why are you so reluctant to believe?” Harry asked me.

“Because it’s completely BS! It sounds the plot of a shit romance novel! This is real life. I’m a poor girl from Hawai’i who grew up in foster care and was forced to raise herself. I’m a convicted criminal and a recovering opiate addict,” I snapped. I choked back my tears. “Even if I did go with you, how the hell will I get out? How will you get papers, not just for me, but for the rest of us? I’m not leaving them behind.”

“Go with them, Moana!” Dmitry blurted. “Go, it’ll be good for you!”

“Dmitry, are you nuts!” I snapped. “One word that the Princess has been found I’m floating in the Thames!” I felt tears starting to roll down my cheeks. “I just wanna live a normal life with my family or as normal as it’ll ever get for an amnesiac. I’ll be at the scrutiny of the media if I go with you. I’ll tarnish your reputation and make you lose public approval. Nobody wants a convicted criminal on the throne!” I dried my eyes and looked up at them. “I don’t wanna be the cause of your downfall. I already have enough grief on my conscious, I don’t need the downfall of an empire to be on it too.”

My cigarette was finished and I threw it to the ground. The weight of the world was slowly falling on my shoulders as reality hit me. I was being told that I was the long-lost Princess of Hawai’i who had gone into a fug state after I had witnessed the death of my entire family and escaped their massacre. Why me? “Can’t you prank somebody else!” I snapped.

“Look, Moana, I overheard some soldiers talking and soon they’ll be a warrant for your death issued. You leave with us or you die,” Tom said. He seemed in pain that he had to say that.

I stumbled back onto Akea who somehow managed to not fall back onto the ground. “You mean I’ll be dead soon?” I asked. “Oh, fuck. It’s only a matter of time until they find me in London.”

“That won't happen,” the Queen assured me. “We have the best security forces in the world.”

“In a matter of respect, Madam, the whole reason why I'm in Hawai’i is that of your Security forces,” Dmitry said. “It says so in my file.”

“Show it to me when we get back to the house,” the Queen ordered. Dmitry nodded his head.

“I don't wanna be in the public spotlight,” I responded. “I don't want my every fucking move scrutinised by the media. Look, Royal Pain, you can have anyone you want in the world. People would happily go on a date with you. Please, find someone else.”

Tom grabbed my arm and pulled me closer to him. Looking into his chestnut brown eyes, I felt myself getting lost in them. That wasn't a good sign. The prince had minty breath that smelt almost heavenly. I felt myself tensing up and not being able to look into his eyes like I should.

Fine,” I sighed. “Then I’ll go.”

[fyeahvanhelsing-blog]

Thoughts on Big Mama.

My thoughts on tonight’s episode of Van Helsing, I will place them under a read more to avoid spoiling those of you who have yet to see it! 

Scarlett:

We’re already off to a rocky start for the group now that Vanessa has been taken; but I’m glad to see already that Scarlett’s strong personality is making itself known amongst the group. She’s every bit the survivor and every part the loner that season one Vanessa was and season two Vanessa still tries to be at times (thank you Julius for being a much needed anchor during Axels absence, may you continue to be the anchor of the group). I’m really looking forwards to seeing how her character will develop in time and just what does Dmitri want with her? It was commented in the previous episode that one of the Van Helsing sisters was more vampire than the other, is Scarlett the “weaker” of the two? If so, will Dmitri try to exploit that? Watch out Scarlett!

Dmitri/Scab:

Speaking of Dmitri, Van Helsing does a wonderful job at exploring the 'politics' of the vampire world. With Julius’ reversion leaving a massive vacuum that needs to be filled by another strong and ruthless vampire, we see Scab possibly rising to the challenge. Dmitri certainly knows that Julius’ brood are not completely loyal to him -- why would they be? Vampirism isn’t some happy camp where everyone sits and roasts marshmallows over a open fire and tells spooky stories. The world of Van Helsing is harsh, it’s eat or be eaten and even then we have to deal with the semantics of politics and morals. Just like humans, vampires aren’t obligated to like one another.

Dmitri may have backed the brood in to a corner by using brute force, but fear can only control a group of people for so long, all it takes is for one of them to stop being scared for the rest to follow suit and it seems that Scab is doing just that. I’ve loved watching this vampire’s journey, from meek underling to leader of the sisterhood. Rowland Pidlubny does an excellent job at portraying the animalistic hunger of vampirism in Van Helsing, the way he prowls across the screen is chilling to watch and when he reached for Callie we were all screaming “no!”

Sisterhood/Scab:

As for the Sisterhood, I’m already in love with this dark coven of warrior women, from their costumes (shout out to @FKSdesigns) to their statuesque on screen presence, this group of vampires is adding an extra topping of bad ass on to an already brimming with bad ass show. It seems that Sister Ivory of the sisterhood is the designated second in command and is already showing devout loyalty to their new master (Scab) as she looks at Dmitri with contempt after seeing him punish Scab for daring to question his human-sympathising.

Flesh/Lucky:

I find myself completely endeared towards these two, Flesh is another character whose growth is important to watch, his decision to help out the humans from the triage over finding Mohamad shows that he’s willing to sacrifice one person to save multiple people. And whilst that doesn’t sit well with most of us who love Mohamad, it again shows that sometimes we as people are forced to make decisions that we may not like. Lucky herself has proven to be an excellent addition to the group as she continues to support Flesh and already has formed a bond with both he and Mohamad (see: her previously warning Mohamad about his drug addiction, freeing Flesh from pseudo barn prison) and whilst they work to free as many humans as possible, I can’t help but wonder if Flesh telling Lucky that Mohamad is dead was more of an attempt to convince himself that his friend was gone.. well, we’ll have to wait until next week to see what really happened to Mohamad!

Cannibals oh my!

The twist with the police officers was something that I did not see coming, we all assumed initially that rednecks plus apocalyptic barbecue equalled Texas chainsaw massacre shenanigans, but we were only half right! A million questions filled my head as we watched a feral struggle against the lawmen who were already ringing the dinner bell. In some sense, I kind of sympathised with the vampire, but then I could also see why the police officers almost saw this as a form of vengeance as well as an act of survival. Almost as if they’re still trying to convince themselves that eating vampires is a totally sane thing to do.

The revelation that vampires could possibly be saved was also interesting to watch as the Sheriff had a glint of remorse and possible horror in his eyes upon hearing the news. Again, another fine moment of toeing the line between humanity and survival a la Van Helsing style! Of course, those of us watching wish to think that we’d be the moral brigade in the apocalypse and do everything ‘right’. But lets be honest. Nature isn’t perfect -- it’s just we humans that try to be.

Once again Van Helsing leaves me wondering just how different from ‘them’ are we?

Julius:

I was rather shocked when Julius actually killed Big Mama, since his reversion the character has transformed from brutal vampire warlord to a rather large cuddly bear that just wants to skip in the sunshine and eat 'beef' jerky. We all saw him comically punch a rather weak vampire Axel in response to the other threatening him, but I don’t think any of us expected to see the lovable oaf stab a fellow human. It was dark -- almost too dark in comparison to the sunshine that Julius has been exuding since his reversion. But I do think it was a good call and a much needed reminder that the character has a lot more going on beneath the surface than his soft spoken words like to let on. 

Doc:

Doc.. oh Doc, where do I start? Doc was the character I least expected to end up loving when I first picked up Van Helsing. Meek, cowardly, anti-social -- wait, that sounds familiar.. To me, Doc has been and has become probably one of the most important characters in the series. I’ve said it before and I will say it again; Doc is the most human character on the show. She’s conflicted, she’s scared, she has no idea what she’s doing most of the time and that alone terrifies her. She’s perfectly flawed with how fear drives her decisions in such an unpredictable world and I love it. Her character growth has been wonderful to witness and with each episode we’re beginning to see a Doc who is learning to trust not only herself, but those around her. 

The moment she closed the door on Axel was the moment we saw Doc begin to change, if she was a true coward she would have kept on running when a vampiric Axel found her. But she didn’t. He gave her a choice (along with a good amount of saliva, someone get that man a tissue) and from there on out, she continues to prove to her fellow survivors and herself, that she is not the weakling that she had painted herself out to be. To me, her story is one of a person overcoming her own demons and learning to live with them.

Axel:

Since his revival he’s been an almost constant source of humour for the group as well as a secondary backbone to help support his fellow survivors. Every bit the team player as Julius, though a little less gullible (just a little. He still gave in to being flattered.) Axel’s return to the group was a needed respite from all of the doom and gloom that has lingered over us since the beginning of the season. And whilst many of us feasted on the visual of a post shower Axel (Scarlett included), I couldn’t help but think about how Doc’s own shower after reversion in the first season was vastly different. In regards to the marine, Axel seems to deflect any emotion that can’t be laced with sarcasm, he’s quick to joke and very slow to open up. And whilst some of us may think that’s just him attempting to be “macho”, I think it’s how the character chooses to deal with things. He’s a soldier who has seen a lot of things, coming from a military family myself and being a R.E.M.E cadet when I was younger I can certainly see many of my former senior officers in Axel at times and how he will sometimes hold himself and switch between authority and civilian. You can take off the uniform, but Axel is still our soldier through and through.

[blue3ski]

"as he meets personally the person he was taught to hate, questions his own beliefs system and chooses to break away from being that symbol. " lmao he meets her by chance on patrol, she runs away, its implied that he *looks* for her. he doesnt actively *meet* her !!! he searches for information. he doesnt question his belief system, he questions whether children deserved to die. and he never breaks away from being that symbol !!! he goes straight back to russia ! also look up history, (1/2)

the bolshevik did WAY worse than kill the romanovs, stop romanticizing them & saying they’re “unfairly villainized” :)

Thank you for responding to my statement, anon. I’ll address this point by point under a cut because this will, again, get quite long.

First, let’s look at what we have in canon.

“ lmao he meets her by chance on patrol, she runs away, its implied that he *looks* for her. he doesnt actively *meet* her” - I’m sorry, this statement confuses me a bit? Does he meet her by chance or does he not? Based on what we have in story, Gleb and Anya meet on the streets, with him not knowing who she is. Is that not a chance meeting? How can he look for someone he doesn’t believe to be alive?

I don’t think we can say he actively looked for Anastasia because he didn’t even buy the rumors he was being fed, since he believes her to be dead. He was looking for an impostor based on the tips. When Anya is brought in as that person, he does not press a charge despite being aware that she is lying to him (as the lyrics of Still indicate), but gives a warning about the dangers of posing as Anastasia in the current climate. Up to this point, I don’t see anything particularly wrong about their interaction, because he’s right, isn’t he? Is he supposed to encourage her behavior? No, because it is a crime in that environment. When he looks into her eyes and sees the Romanov eyes, he could very well have turned her in merely on the suspicion that she is Anastasia, and I doubt anyone would have questioned him on that. But he lets her go, again with a warning. That by itself was already to some extent an act of rebellion against his government, because he placed a personal interest over the good of the state.

We don’t hear from him again until the train escape. Based on the dialogue, he seeks to arrest Anya, Vlad and Dmitry. And then his superior ups the ante by commanding him to kill if she is Anastasia. The commissioner has to remind Gleb of what his position and office cost, so I think it’s made clear enough the Gleb isn’t exactly over the moon about receiving this assignment. We get Still after, which essentially confirms this.

In Paris, Gleb has a chance to kill Anya at the ballet. He fails and just waxes poetic about his feelings and how his mind and heart are “at war”. If that’s not an internal conflict, then I’m not sure what is. If we look at how his part in Quartet at the Ballet is sung, the lyrics he sings are meant to convince and remind himself of his duty. Why would he need to remind himself of this? Because he no longer holds his ideals as dearly to him as he used to. Something has become so important to him that it has made him unable to do what he “needs” to in that moment as per his beliefs system. That something is his love for Anya - again, a personal interest that would have gone against what he was most probably taught as a soldier and a Bolshevik. So his love for Anya does in fact symbolize a questioning of his beliefs system.

So up to this point, Gleb has had a minimum of 3 chances to apprehend or kill Anastasia, or at least the girl posing as her, all prior to their final confrontation. He essentially fails at all of them. So if he does in fact stay as the symbol of the Bolsheviks throughout the story, then he does a rather poor job of symbolizing them, doesn’t he?

Now let’s look at the confrontation scene. I believe his superior referred to him as the “sword and shield of the revolution.” Yet we meet a character at this point who is anything but. if we gather the context clues based on Gleb’s arc, I think it’s fairly clear that Gleb was never going to be capable of pulling the trigger. He goes through the motions, but he’s intensely torn at this point. And as Anya reminds him of the trauma he saw in the past, he tries to parrot the lines he once said with such conviction and confidence, but now he’s saying them brokenly and weakly. Again, why is this so? Because they’re no longer absolute truth to him at this point. He’s seeing that there is a choice other than “simple duty.” He’s recognizing that a revolution is not a simple thing. I don’t see how we can look at this scene and think Gleb never made a choice to break away from being a symbol of the regime. He tells Anastasia that he’s “not his father’s son.” What is his father? The actual symbol of the Bolsheviks. The effective symbol. Gleb has tried to emulate that symbol, but in the end, he realizes that he is not that man. And so he ends things on a civil note with Anastasia. He recognizes her royal status honestly, and chooses to walk away wishing her nothing but a long life. He calls her comrade, because he has accepted that they can co-exist.

“he goes straight back to russia“ - And what do you think happened to him, anon? You asked me to look up history to be more aware of the atrocities of the Bolsheviks, which I am in fact aware of as a university graduate with some background in International Studies. Do you think that they celebrated Gleb’s glorious return to Leningrad? Do you think that, when he returned with neither Anya nor a confirmation that he had killed her, they just clapped him on the back and said, “you’ll get her next time, champ!“ No. Best-case scenario, Gleb lied about what happened in Paris and protected them both BUT I find this unlikely because he never knew that she wouldn’t claim her identity. Rather, what most likely happened is that Gleb was himself made an example of after his pretty speech in the finale, and was shot and killed by the same government he had served so zealously for the change in his beliefs that led him to spare Anastasia.

Second, assumptions about my thoughts on the Bolshevik regime

“also look up historythe bolshevik did WAY worse than kill the romanovs” - as mentioned in the previous point, I do know my history. In fact, I had to look it up again in the process of doing research for my fic (yes, even AU fanfic writers do historical research for accuracy), so it’s quite fresh in my mind. Yet I find this requirement to be irrelevant because when I joined the Anastasia fandom, I was under the impression that i was enjoying a fictional work that was loosely based on history. I was not aware that I needed to have a degree in Russian history in order to be considered a proper Fanastasia, that I needed to be able to defend my love of a fictional character in this work and my desire for him to have a happy ending in over 2,000 words of essay with a bullet-point analysis of the text. I was under the impression that I would be able to just have fun with others who shared this interest since this is Tumblr, but well, I suppose I expected too much for having an opinion that contradicted that of the majority.

“stop romanticizing them & saying they’re “unfairly villainized“ - I’m…not sure where you got this out of my posts? I stated previously that my political stand is “anti-authority anarchist” because I frankly am of the opinion that all governing regimes, to put it bluntly, suck. Communists have done terrible things - I have family who suffered in Communist China. The monarchy has done terrible things, again as evidenced in international history. Even democracy has done and has allowed terrible things to happen - just look at the current climate. It is my dislike of governmental authority in general that allows me to able to say, that’s the nature of politics - there is always good AND bad on all sides. I will not pretend the Bolsheviks were saints, but neither will I say that every single person who worked under that regime was scum and nothing more. In the same way, the Romanovs weren’t devils, but neither were they angels.