#the bear doesn’t attack us and it’s just my sister and I in the basement. where the bear also is

[eigengrauone]

not only did I just have a really weird and depressing dream, I only slept for an hour and a half. wadda hell :(

[surfalldaybaby]

”A Very Long and Comprehensive Analysis of Feyre’s Experience w/ Trauma and Abuse

- This is not a kind analysis of Nesta but please still read it if you want. It’s not in the wrong tags tho so please don’t rant about how much you love Nesta. I love that for you. Personally, I hate her. :)

Also- I use many of the quotes that @feysandlover and @dont-rattle-aelin used to prove her point that Nesta is abusive because she pulled many of the really jarring ones. 

I was looking through the Rhysand tag and for some reason someone posted something comparing Nesta and Feyre in terms of their trauma, and they said that Nesta had experienced way more trauma than Feyre and I-

That’s disgusting.

First - don’t compare trauma

Second- they were wrong and lacked critical thinking skills that left out Feyre’s full experience with abuse

Nesta was sexually assaulted ( which nobody talks about enough) and her family’s fortune flipped making them poor overnight. Because of this she fostered anger towards her father. I get that. I sympathize with that. She is then taken away from her life and forcefully changed into fae. I cannot imagine what that felt like for her. It must have been devastating. Her whole identity was shifted in one day and she went from hating fae to being fae. Confusing and overwhelming. She then goes into war and develops PTSD and depression from her experiences. She sees her father die and is unable to reconcile her anger and his death. It’s horrible and I cannot even begin to understand the depth of her emotions here. I have zero issue saying that about Nesta because it’s true she has gone through extaordinary trauma and I cannot imagine how she fully feels. She deals with this trauma in unhealthy ways because they only exacerbate her feelings of worthlessness. Not her fault. However, she also treats Mor and Feyre and Rhys in disrespectful ways and Cassian and her have an unhealthy dynamic where they insult each other. Her and Amren have a shaky and partner like relationship but it is by no means a sturdy one. Az and Nesta don’t seem to have a relationship at all. She has no true healthy relationship with anyone but Elain, and you could argue even that is not truly healthy.

Much of Nesta’s trauma is due to extraneous factors and a multitude or variables. It’s valid and it matters just as much as Feyres. They are both real. However the amount of traumatic experiences she has gone through does not come close to rivaling that of Feyre’s and to even try and compare them is disgusting. Trauma should never be compared but I want to show Feyre’s experience in a broader light to show her development from a scared girl to high lady

Feyre was never an active abuser in any relationship she was always the one being abused. Nesta was abused and she was also the abuser. It is important to point that out because it heavily impacts Feyre’s story.

Also, I believe the reason Feyre became so accustomed and slipped so easily into being a victim to Tamlins abuse is because Feyre was already the victim of emotional abuse from her sisters. We see this everyday, research shows that victims of abuse go back to abusive relationship and form new relationships that center around abuse because they are used to it and find it comforting. This is an extraneous point that you can agree with or can argue against it’s just a personal connection I made. However, it is very evident how Nesta and Elains treatment of Feyre affects her. She has no self confidence, she remains illiterate and with no real knowledge of polite manners ( something important in the real world, something that holds her back from being able to assimilate into the real world), her spirit is broken down at home because she knows  that verbal attacks are going to come and Nesta is going to lash out and say horrible disgusting things to her if she asks her to do something or holds her accountable for her lack of work. She is constantly degraded for everything that she does and it has a pronoucned effect on her psyche throughout the trilogy and novella. 

Like Nesta, Feyre also had to go through her family losing their fortune, she also had to bear the weight of her promise to her mother, she had to support her sisters financially going into the forest alone to hunt animals just as big as herself at 14. She never had money for herself because her sisters took it from her. Like they literally took all her money to buy things they did not need, leaving Feyre with basically nothing.

“I’d love a new cloak,” Elain said at last with a sigh, at the same moment Nesta rose and declared: “I need a new pair of boots.””“I kept quiet, knowing better than to get in the middle of one of their arguments, but I glanced at Nesta’s still-shiny pair by the door. Beside hers, my too-small boots were falling apart at the seams, held together only by fraying laces... I drowned them out as they began quarreling over who would get the money the hide would fetch tomorrow…”

 And Nesta complains and whines and doesn’t stop gaslighting Feyre because of her lack of hard work. But, she doesn’t want to do work herself because she thinks it’s beneath her. 

“I thought you were going to chop wood today. Nesta picked at her long, neat nails. “I hate chopping wood. I always get splinters. She glanced up from beneath her dark lashes. Of all of us, Nesta looked the most like our mother—especially when she wanted something. “Besides, Feyre,” she said with a pout, “you’re so much better at it! It takes you half the time it takes me. Your hands are suited for it—they’re already so rough.” My jaw clenched. “Please,” I asked, calming my breathing, knowing an argument was the last thing I needed or wanted. “Please get up at dawn to chop that wood.” I unbuttoned the top of my tunic. “Or we’ll be eating a cold breakfast.” Her brows narrowed. “I will do no such thing!”

She doesn’t care about Feyre or the fact that starving is their new reality. Poverty is what they live in. We all know if Feyre didn’t go hunting Nesta would be furious at Feyre and belittle her and make her feel small and responsible for their hunger.

“Take those disgusting clothes off.” 

“Any bit of praise for anyone—me, Elain, other villagers—usually resulted in her dismissal.”

“Is there a problem, Feyre?” She flung my name like an insult, and my jaw ached from clenching it so hard.”

“You stink like a pig covered in its own filth. Can’t you at least try to pretend that you’re not an ignorant peasant?”c“Take those disgusting clothes off.” 

“What do you know?” Nesta breathed. “You’re just a half-wild beast with the nerve to bark orders at all hours of the day and night. Keep it up, and someday—someday, Feyre, you’ll have no one left to remember you, or to care that you ever existed.” She stormed off, Elain darting after her, cooing her sympathy. 

Then Tamlim comes and kidnaps her. More trauma. She falls in love with him, I think partly because of Stockholm Syndrome and also because he shows her a level of kindness that she was not given at home, and then he disappears so she has to go back to her life with her sisters. Her sisters have all the benefits of her being stolen away bcs Feyre was able to provide their old house and wealth back through Tamlin’s gift. Her sisters literally never did anything to provide for themselves or help their father or sister. If you really think about that situation as a whole it’s devastating. Then she goes to save Tamlin and finds that her home and her loved one was basically destroyed. She goes to save him.

While under the mountain Amarantha humiliates and tortures her for fun. She makes her run around trying to get away from a monster, her illiteracy is exploited for amusement while she is under pressure of death by fire, she is forced to kill fae in order to save her love, and she has to suffer with her injuries in a basement where everyone is rooting against her.

Then she fucking dies. And like Nesta she is forced to become fae in order to survive. Like she can’t catch a break. Her whole life has really just been horrible and so traumatic. A series of abuses.

That’s not even all! She goes home and is deeply depressed and struggling with PTSD and Tamlin, who she literally was tortured and died to save, takes advantage of her sexually because he is too scared to acknowledge that she is struggling. He uses her body for his pleasure while she throws up every night after he leaves her bedroom due to the nightmares she gets from saving hundreds of fae. She is also forced to fit into a box that she doesn’t want- wearing dresses, pretending to be happy, becoming a figurehead as Tamlins bride knowing that it means she will have to be submissive and have children. Lucien emotionally abused her and ignores her obvious depression because of his own fear of what Tamlin would say. He is a bystander. She is so broken that she stops caring about everything, even painting, the one thing she always loved. Then he traps her in his house which is traumatizing again because she was just trapped under the mountain! Even the people she loved, the people she trusted, continually can’t stop abusing her.

She finds happiness and stability later on after intensive work on herself, and months of building healthy relationships, but she is still troubled because of the guilt she feels from the townsfolks anger and their sense of righteousness for her actions even though she did the best she could in every circumstance. When she goes to try and save those townspeople it becomes clear that Nesta still hates her. She shows Feyre no kindness. The only reason she is allowed to use the house, the one that Feyre got for them, was because of Elain. Even after that Nesta insults her repeatedly for being fae. Those statments from the first book that I quoted higher up in this post are just a small part of how she speaks to Feyre in the following three books after she finds out that she is fae. Even after Feyre saves her and supports her she continues abusing and blaming Feyre. She continues to insult. degrade, shame, and humiliate her to uplift her own lack of self worth. Its a technique to stop her own insecurity and depression but it is in no way excusable. It’s no wonder Rhysand hates her. She abused his mate for years- something that he experienced under the mountain (shame, gaslighting, and humiliation). That is her life. She goes on to see her father murdered. She suffered so much in such a short amount of time is a wonder she wasn’t more broken.

Don’t come to me saying Nesta experienced more trauma to prove your point that Nesta is a good person and not responsible for her actions because she “feels to much” and is a woman that is cruel, and prideful, and unapologetic “bcs that’s who she is.” She has to be held accountable for her actions, her attitude, and her lack of words and apologies to everyone she wronged- especially her sister.

Feyre sacrifices her childhood, her body, her mental health, and her life in order to provide the stability that her sisters felt was their norm. They are inherently priviledged because of that sacrifice. They felt and still feel entitled to her money, and her loyalty, and that of her friends and mate. They survive because of Feyre. And Feyre never once called them out on their behavior, not even when they continually disrespected her after she provided them with a place to live and money to live off of. This was due to her feelings of guilt and the trauma that she had continually been victim to as a child and in Tamlins court.

Some of y’all use the excuse that they never asked Feyre to do any of that and I’m genuinely appalled that that is even a response to her genuine sacrifice. Her mother asked her to take care of them. Nobody was stepping up. Nesta was not going to go into the forest and neither was Elain, both for different but equally disappointing reasons. They both would have let the family starve. Also, Nesta and Elain were both older than her. Elain and Nesta as Feyre’s old sisters should have, and had a responsibility, to ensure that Feyre didn’t have to do what she did. Their apathy and ungrateful attitude is disgusting. Disgusting and unforgivable. Sure, Feyre may have been able to do it but she never should have had to. The three of them should have figured out a plan of equal work to give and take and survive. Y’all saying that Feyre never had to do that I- ... do you not have a family? Do you not have loved ones? You don’t have to do something to help your family, but you do it anyway because you love them and you hate to see them suffer. It’s just that usually you aren’t being exploited and taken advantage of at 14, for years on end, because the sentiment is usually reciprocated.

Perhaps if they had taken better care of their younger sister she would not have been in the woods and killed the fae. Perhaps all three of them would have bore the brunt of their fathers injury together and made a family. Perhaps if she hadn’t killed the fae in the forest when she was starving due to her sisters laziness, Elain and Nesta would never have been forced into being fae.

They neglected Feyre. They aren’t as responsible for her as their father ofc but they actively neglected her and Nesta even slut shamed her for her consensual sexual relationship with Isaac. The one thing she had that her sisters couldn’t take and Nesta called her filthy and disgusting for it.

“At least I don’t have to resort to rutting in the hay with Isaac Hale like an animal.” 

Nesta remains unapologetic and to me she is not a feminist character. Sarah J Mass tried to use her as that trope to fulfill her idea of a “powerful woman” icon but she’s just a cruel and traumatized woman who people let off the hook. She gets away with it because she gaslights other characters while taking no responsibility for herself. She was abused and traumatized herself but that’s never an excuse for her in turn abusing someone else.

Now I don’t mean to say that Nesta or Elain are irredeemable. Frankly I think they both have potential to be good characters if they just apologized to Feyre in the next book, and really put those sentiments into actions. I do think Nesta is a bad person right now, I think she’s an abuser. And I think it’s hard for abusers to change their pattern of abuse. Elain is less of an outright abuser and more complicit in the abuse. I don’t know if either of them can change, but they definitely won’t if people keep letting them off the hook for their disgusting behavior. I am not impressed or charmed by either of them. Until they show a hint of gratitude and remorse to their sister because as y’all can tell she went through hell to make sure they were taken care of. Not to say that they didn’t do anything for Feyre. They both  had important roles to play in the war, and they do have their moments of kindness and bravery and showed they cared for Feyre but abusers can be kind and considerate and brave one minute and then switch up just as fast. It’s about showing a consistent pattern of respect and love. 

Just because Feyre took care of Elain and Nesta their whole damn life does not mean she has to be responsible for them as high lady. Also she is not responsible for knowing how to deal with their trauma. Her own abuse, and lack of real world experience- because Nesta and Elain never taught her to read, and Nesta continually degraded and made cruel remarks to Feyre about her lack of manners “ disgusting pig, take off your clothes didn’t anyone teach you ...” (manners she didn’t develop because she was in the forest)- means she is not perfect at confronting Nestas PTSD or depression. Feyre’s intention was always good, whereas you can’t tell me that Nestas was good and pure. She is not exempt from being respectful and kind because she is hurt and has mental illnesses. She is not exempt from apologizing because she “feels to much.”

This applies to all of the IC as well. They are all healing. They all experienced trauma that rivals what Feyre went through. It’s no wonder they built a family from that shared bond. They are healing together- not healed. Nesta is not entitled to Feyre’s care or her friends kindness. She is not entitled to be added into the group painting or their secret jokes or parties because she continues to push them all away. Then she insults them and disrespects them. The inner circle has already suffered so much they are not exactly going to be open to accepting Nesta knowing her history and her current actions and remarks, and the history of the IC. Do y’all not remember Mors family nailing a stake into her body for losing her virginity? Or Cassian, Az, and Rhys being forced to bond together to survive, being called bastards, and being ganged up on by all their peers? Rhys being sexually abused for 50 years and seeing his parents murdered? Az being stuck in a basement so long he became the shadows and his hands being burned so badly they were hard to look at? Or Amren being in the wrong body for centuries and still she and all of the IC remain a family because they try to understand each other and their experiences. Nesta was not only rude to them she was cruel and spiteful, especially to their high lady, and they don’t need an excuse, but especially as victims of abuse, they are not perfect, and they sure as hell are not obligated to embrace Nesta into their family. The IC and Feyre deserve better.

A lot of people have posed the argument that if Nesta was male everyone would love her but I disagree. If an older brother let his sister go hunting alone in the woods for years while sitting on his ass, slut shamed her and called her dirty and disgusting, blamed her for her family’s poverty and spoke to her like she was trash for years and years, verbally and emotionally belittled her, felt entitled to her possessions and her kindness while they were both struggling to heal from abuse, predisposes his sister to accepting abuse as a form of relationship, and then rather than apologize “steels [her] back” and says nothing-not even an apology or a thank you for saving their life tenfold- he would never even have gotten a redemption story, or a mate, let alone a 700 page book. He would be the most hated character in the series but because it’s Nesta and she’s a woman and y’all pose her as this feminist it’s okay that shes abusive all throughout the series.

[aros001]

Read through light novel vol. 7. Random thoughts.

I swear Goblin Slayer looks like he's blushing through his armor on that cover. I don't blame him, given it's Cow Girl, but that's what it looks like.

I always get a laugh out of Goblin Slayer's completely unwillingness or inability to remember any type of monster outside of goblins. I think he only knows what vampires and dragon are because they're the most popular monster adventurers want to beat and thus the ones he'd hear about the most. He repeatedly can't remember what an ogre is despite dropping an ocean on one, nor the dark elf or troll, and I think last volume he needed a long minute to remember what giant rats are. No surprise he can't remember what the Loch Ness Monster's name was in this book, or what an elephant is. Mokele Mubenbe. It's hard for me to even pronounce that.

Lizard Priest was in the process of bringing each of the nuns upstairs into the chapel from the basement storehouse. “Stay strong, now. When dawn breaks, we can take you somewhere less upsetting.” “Thank you... Truly...” “Think nothing of it. We may revere different deities, but monkeys came from lizards, in the end. That makes us cousins.” “Heh-heh... You lizardmen...say the strangest...things...”

I don't say this often enough but Lizard Priest is just kind of the best, you know? He's like a big, scaly, green teddy bear. He's a very comforting presence and such an easy person for everyone, including those of different faiths like Priestess and the elves, to be friends with.

At first I was disappointed Priestess didn't get a cure poison miracle, given how often goblins come at the party using poisoned weapons, but her Purify miracle has certainly proved its usefulness, both for cleaning water and air as well as helping psychologically by cleaning up the victims of the goblins. Doesn't restore their stolen virginity but at least leaves less marks and filth for them to be constantly reminded what the goblins did to them. Plus, Goblin Slayer is no stranger to using smoke or poison gas, so Purify is probably good to have on hand to keep such methods from harming the party themselves.

In the middle of this flood of stories, Goblin Slayer said, “So this is your home.” “That’s right.” “That’s good.” “Well—” High Elf Archer’s eyes narrowed like a smiling cat’s. “It’s where my heart is.” Goblin Slayer nodded. Cow Girl blinked at him for a moment. Then he said, “And there are goblins near it.” The note of anger in his voice was unmistakable.

I love all the members of the party, so naturally I'm enjoying all the bonding moments between Goblin Slayer and High Elf Archer in this book, as well as the parallels he keeps drawing between them, especially in regards to their sisters. Their interactions are fun because their personalities contrast so much but in a different way than his and Priestess' or her and Dwarf Shaman's.

Then she went on, “Actually, even a lot of elvish adventurers act like that, especially if they’ve just left the forest.” It’s not that they have no sense of danger, just a poor grasp of scale.

That last bit is a good way of describing a lot of this series. There are people ignorant of how truly dangerous the goblins can be but outside of porcelain ranks it's usually not deliberately so. They just live in a world of other insanely large threats that don't like being ignored, with the elves in particular having members of their species whom lived through the old battles of the gods. Goblins are basically pests and goblin slaying pest control. They're a problem but barely a blip on the radar when you're comparing them to freaking Sauron, whom it feels like you just recently finally got rid of.

There is something absolutely hilarious to me that this man in dirty leather and steel armor, coated in faded red stains, who refuses to ever take his helmet off, barely talks, frequently walks in a manner that's described as violent, and who's sole obsession it is to wipe out every last goblin in existence, is known as The Kindest Man on the Frontier. But I still love it because it makes sense. Most villages on the frontier can't get help with their goblin problems because there's not a lot of fame or money in killing goblins and bigger threats are given more the priority, so they're just left on their own. But then Goblin Slayer comes in, doing the job without any thought to reward or praise. He's saved god knows how many kidnapped women prevented the destruction of countless villages. From the outside, yeah, it looks like just simple kindness. Get to know him a little better and you see that it's obsession. And when you get as close as Priestess and Cow Girl, you agree that it's kindness.

It's so cool that the elf adventurer the party saved on their first quest together made a reappearance, even if it's a small one. Like with Wizard's little brother wanting to avenge her, it's good to show that the people brutalized by the goblins aren't just props to show how serious the situation is. They're real (albeit fictional) people, who had their own lives and people who loved them, so having them still matter later in the story and them trying to get at least some closure is good writing.

I was talking with someone before in my vol. 6 post that something I really like about Goblin Slayer's character is his immaturity. Not that he's whiny and bratty like a kid but rather his trauma stunted him in a few ways. He likely had nothing to do with his village being attacked by goblins but to this day he blames himself for what happened to his sister, from him hiding and doing nothing to save her to in this volume believing she would have long moved on from their village if she didn't have to take care of him. Taking on all that blame and guilt, it's such a childish way of thinking and his trauma (and Burgler's training) meant he never was able to grow out of it. I can just see that little boy under the floorboards, thinking everything that's happening around him is some divine punishment from the gods for something bad he did, like not listening to his sister or getting mad at Cow Girl or literally anything else a kid would normally do.

This world has freaking elevators?! What?! When they first mentioned it I thought it was going to be something involving water or magic or gears, but no! Control panels, keypad, entering a code. It even goes bong when it arrives at its destination. I mean, they say it's not clear whether it operates magically or mechanically but this still feels like a big jump in this world's technology level, considering the most high tech thing I remember prior was ice cream making, and that was a chemical process. I just love the image of Goblin Slayer's party patiently waiting in the elevator as it's going up and soft muzak is playing.

By the time he noticed the change, it was too late. The goblin shaman’s blood had been turned to pure water.

WHOA! Priestess! What the f**k?! Was this her version of strangling the goblin champion with a bundle of hair?! That was awesome!

Also not good for her, given her beliefs. It's a good little conflict for her character and sets up some worry about what'll happen if she does something like this again. The Earth Mother spoke directly to her to warn this was a one-time deal. Would Priestess lose the ability to use Miracles or would the goddess outright smite her for such gross abuse of the powers she gave her? There's also the added conflict that Goblin Slayer praised her for what she did. He's not as important as the Earth Mother but he's still someone Priestess respects and is attached to more than anyone else, so she's going to be conflicted if his life is on the line again.

I've never played DOOM. Still love the reference with Hero.

...Is that why there was an elevator? Is this world some odd combination of DnD, Lord of the Rings, and DOOM?

Even though they showed his image, with everyone else all dressed up for the wedding I'm enjoying imagining Goblin Slayer in his normal armor, just with the addition of a bow tie.

Damn that bouquet tease. Who caught it?! Priestess?! Cow Girl?! Sword Maiden leaping in through the window?!

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/GoblinSlayer/comments/fzwykz/read_through_light_novel_vol_7_random_thoughts/

[zelenacat]

Chapter 2- When We Were Young- An Obitine Story

The Duchess was careful the first four months of her first pregnancy, she wore flowing outfits with ruffles and loose-fitting sashes to draw eyes away from her stomach. Satine would appear at state events and cut ribbons, and make speeches on holidays or days of historical importance, and of course, she opened parliament. By now, she had made her political views very clear, she was a pacifist, and she supported the New Mandalorians. Those who were critical of the new Duchess' views claimed she was a shame to her clan, to her War Lord father, and that her sister should be more involved in government. That hurt Satine, but she decided that people had to let their anger out somehow. At least, none of the courtiers had claimed their dissent in her face, though Satine wasn’t sure how long that would last.

In her fifth month of pregnancy, that’s when things got harder.

“Satine?”

Sighing, the Duchess looked up, Khaami had a worried expression on her face.

“What is it?” she asked.

“The Mandalorian Society for Peace would like you to give a speech at their banquet next week.”

Fesma frowned.

Satine rested her hands on her stomach, “That will be tricky.”

“You can’t deny them,” Fesma stated, “you’ve shown yourself to be an advocate for peace.”

“A staunch one at that.” agreed the Duchess.

Khaami huffed, “We need a way to get around this.”

The room got quiet.

“Perhaps,” Satine began, “I could claim I have a former engagement but record a speech?”

Khaami brightened, “That might work.”

“But if you give too many televised speeches,” Fesma fidgeted, “won’t people get suspicious?”

Satine grinned, “Not if we implement my new idea.”

Raising an eyebrow, Fesma asked, “And what would that be?”

“Corsets.”

Khaami gasped.

“Satine,” Fesma sighed, “no.”

“We could work them into my outfits,” the Duchess suggested, “like we did with my coronation outfit.”

“The seamstresses did that.” Fesma corrected.

“And isn’t it dangerous for the baby?” Khaami added.

“I have to take some risks,” Satine swallowed, “I want this baby, but it’s going to be difficult.”

A silence once again descended over the room, Satine’s thoughts riveted through her skull.

“I’ll tell your writers to start drafting a speech then,” Khaami stood, “and I’ll stop at the tailor’s room on the way back.”

“Thank you, Khaami.”

Fesma sighed heavily as soon as Khaami closed the door.

“What is it?” Satine asked.

“This would be much easier if you,” Fesma paused, “if you-”

“I can’t,” Satine’s hands began to shake, “I don’t have the courage.”

“But this will be so much harder.” Fesma urged.

“I know,” tears sprung into the Duchess’ eyes, “but I love the baby’s father too much to get rid of it.”

“Satine-”

“Stop, I won’t have this conversation again!”

Fesma nodded, “Yes, Your Grace.”

In two days time Khaami and Fesma outfitted Satine’s newest dress. It was blue with silver embellishments and a purple sash.

“Ah!”

“Sorry, Satine.” Khaami grimaced.

“Tighter.” the Duchess ordered through ground teeth.

“Satine,” Fesma brought a mirror over to Satine, “are you sure?”

The Duchess turned sideways and stared at herself in the mirror, it looked like she had gained some weight, but it didn’t look like she was pregnant.

“You know what,” Satine gasped, “this will do.”

After recording her speech for the Mandalorian Society for Peace, Satine attended a council meeting with her newly selected advisors. They drew up a list of societies for the Duchess to give speeches at or attend, and advised her on when to hold court.

Looking around the table, Satine committed her advisors’ names to memory and thanked them for their support.

“Of course, Your Grace.” bowed the Prime Minister, Jaru Djarin.

The Duchess waited before all her advisors had left before hoisting herself upward, leaning heavily on the table. Her back hurt terribly these days, and sometimes she had trouble sleeping.

The rest of the day went by uneventfully, Satine sighed, some of these days were starting to blur together and she felt lonely. Hopefully that would change soon.

“How did it go, Satine?” Khaami asked, unbuttoning the Duchess’ dress.

“Eh, same as usual.”

Fesma frowned, “Satine, I’m worried about you.”

“Why?”

The Duchess’ dress fell to the floor.

Fesma sighed, “You’re not yourself anymore.”

Khaami met Satine’s eyes in the mirror as she undid her corset.

“Do you agree, Khaami?”

The lady’s eyes saddened, “You are a little down sometimes.”

Satine sighed as her corset came loose, standing in just her underwear, she turned and stared at herself in the mirror.

“It’s definitely noticeable now.” the Duchess observed.

“Would you,” Khaami began, “would you like to tell us about him?”

Satine blushed.

Fesma picked up the Duchess’ dress, “Satine, we know you wouldn’t do something like this without reason, tell us about him.”

Letting loose a giggle, the Duchess bit her lip and shook her head.

“Satine?” Khaami asked, shock in her tone.

“He was so kind to me,” Satiine said at last, “gentle and trustworthy, and he even had a snarky sense of humor.”

Satine watched as Khaami and Fesma glanced at each other, eyebrows raised.

“At first we only argued,” Satine admitted, “but then we agreed for Master Qui-Gon’s benefit that we should try to be civil.”

Khaami snorted, “Civil?”

“Our first kiss happened on a ledge overlooking a valley,” Satine smiled, “the sun was setting.”

“Satine,” Fesma sighed, “don’t tell me you’re a romantic.”

The Duchess laughed.

“What was his name?” Khaami asked.

Satine let her eyes fall to the floor, “I called him Ben.”

“Ben?”

“Meaning: mine.” Satine explained.

“Here, Your Grace,” Fesma said after a long silence, “let’s get you changed.”

Once Satine was in her nightgown, Fesma went for tea and Khaami clamored onto the Duchess’ bed.

“So,” Khaami grinned, “have you picked out any names yet?”

“Names?”

“You know,” Khaami crossed her arms, “for the baby.”

Satine opened her mouth to speak, the air recycler went on.

“Well I,” the Duchess paused, “I don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl.”

Khaami was about to answer, when a vent popped out of the wall. Satine turned.

“Don’t move.” came a growl.

On shaky legs, Satine stood.

“I said not to move!”

It was a man, clearly, and he was dressed from head to toe in rusty Mandalorian armor. The man’s eyes fell onto Satine’s stomach.

“Well, Your Grace,” the bounty hunter sneered gleefully, “you certainly have something to answer for, don’t you?”

“Who are you and what do you want?” Khaami managed to stutter.

 “I’m just here for the Duchess, little lady,” the bounty hunter pointed his gun at Satine, “and if she comes with me I won’t have to kill you.”

“Her Grace is going nowhere.” said Fesma, appearing at the door, tea tray in hand.

Satine yelped as the intruder grabbed her arm and yanked her in a hold against his chest.

“Move and she dies, they’ll take her dead or alive.”

Satine could not let this happen, she decided to try a trick she’d seen Obi-Wan do before, ram your head into that of your attacker. So, she did.

“Ah!”

Satine held up the bounty hunter’s shooting hand and wrestled the gun from him.

“It’s treason to attack a monarch.” The intruder pulled a knife, “They said you were a pacifist.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t protect myself.” Satine spat.

“You sure it isn’t the momma bear instinct?”

Satine pulled the trigger, she was lucky, the bullet lodged in the bounty hunter’s neck. Shaking, the Duchess dropped the gun.

“Your Grace?” a voice called.

Thinking quickly Satine hid behind her dressing partition, a few seconds later a guard entered.

“Where were you,” Fesma shouted, “he tried to kill the Duchess!”

“Forgive me, my lady,” the guard said entering the room, “we were in the middle of a shift change.”

The guard spoke quietly into his communication device before calmly stalking towards the intruder.

“What happened here?”

Satine peaked around her partition, she saw Harryn, the captain of her personal guard.

“This assassin tried to kill the Duchess.” answered the first guard.

“And you killed him?”

“No, sir,” the guard shook his head, “he was dead when I arrived, I heard the shot.”

“Then who-”

“I did,” Satine’s words were rushed, “but in the report I would like it said that I waited for professional assistance.”

Harryn bowed, “Yes, Your Grace.”

The Duchess’ personal guards were so focused over the next few weeks, that when a palace nurse came to them with the news of a missing medical droid, they didn’t look into it, even though they said they would deal with it.

“What are you going to do, Satine?” Fesma asked.

The Duchess and her ladies were sitting in her personal parlor, a receiving room connected to her bedchamber. This and her bedroom were the only rooms where there were no microphones, only cameras.

“I hate to do my father this dishonor,” Satine began, “but I have to do this for the baby.”

Fesma tilted her head, “What dishonor?” 

“I want to claim this child is my niece or nephew,” Satine lowered her eyes, “that they’re the child of my bastard brother.”

Khaami gasped.

“I know people who can fake the documents-”

Khaami’s mouth fell open, horrified, “You know people?”

Satine hesitated, “I’ve heard of people.”

“I agree with Her Grace,” said Fesma after a short silence, “this seems to be the best course of action.” “We’d have to pay them in kind,” Satine stated, “they can’t accept credits.”

“What could we use,” Khaami asked, “jewelry?” “I was thinking of physical monetary value.” Satine confessed.

“So,” Khaami paused, “bills?”

“Yes.”

The Duchess looked to Fesma, who was mulling over the prospect.

“I think jewelry might be best, Satine,” said the lady, “it’s easily exchangeable and has good value.”

“Alright,” Satine agreed, “we’ll pay them in jewelry, but where am I going to, you know-”

“Give birth?” Khaami whispered.

Satine flinched, “Yes, birth.”

Fesma frowned, “It has to be somewhere no one frequents, and it has to be soundproof.”

“The bombing basement?” Khaami ventured.

Satine grinned, “Unconventional, but it might work.”

By the time her third trimester began, the entire plan was in place. Under Satine’s bed lay a stolen medical droid and a bag of missing pain relievers, on her toilette in a mahogany box sat a cheap set of jewels, authentic, but not the grandest thing Satine owned. Finally, if one went into the bombing basement, they would find an old mattress covered in stained sheets and newspapers surrounded by tapestries on the walls and candles on the floor.

“Things seem to be looking up, Satine.” Khaami commented when the Duchess returned from a council meeting.

“We might actually be able to do this.” agreed Fesma.

Satine swallowed, “My advisors think I should marry as soon as possible, make a political alliance and sire heirs.”

Fesma groaned.

“Just when we thought things were looking up.” added Khaami.

“I told them I would consider it,” Satine sat down, hands on her stomach, “but I’m not sure how long I can hold them off.”

“Just until the baby is born,” Fesma assured, “then, once it’s safe, you can marry.”

The Duchess began to sob.

Khaami ran to her lady, “Oh, Satine-”

“I’m still in love with him, after all these months,” Satine choked on the air in her throat, “and he hasn’t contacted me once!”

“Satine-”

“I kriffing hate the Jedi!”

Fesma heaved a long sigh, “How very Mandalorian of you.”

Satine planted her face into her pillow and screamed.

Khaami tried again, “Satine-”

The Duchess screamed again. Then she groaned, sat up, and wiped her eyes.

“You know,” Satine swallowed, “sometimes I question my life choices.”

The Duchess was met with silence.

“Like why, for instance,” Satine continued, “did I have to fall in love with a Jedi?”

Fesma and Khaami shared a glance.

“It’s alright, you know,” the Duchess crossed her arms, “you can answer.”

Khaami opened her mouth to speak, but it was Fesma who spoke. 

“You know, Satine,” the lady placed her hands on the Duchess’, “it’s okay to be upset.”

All at once, Satine’s anger level began to lower.

“I don’t have a heart anymore,” the Duchess began to tear up again, “I’ve given it all to him.”

“That’s alright,” Khaami wrapped her arm around Satine’s shoulders, “it will come back to you eventually.”

“I’ll never stop loving him.” Satine said matter of factly.

“Then the baby,” Fesma assured, “your heart will grow again when the baby arrives.”

Satine nodded, “Thank you, ladies.”

“Of course,” Khaami kissed the Duchess’ cheek, “and now, we must think of names.”

It didn’t take much deliberation for Satine to decide that if she had a boy, she would name him Korkyrach.

“After the warrior king,” the Duchess said, “but we’ll call him Korkie for short.”

“And if it’s a girl?” Khaami asked excitedly.

Satine faltered, “I want to give her a regal sounding name, a hyphenated name.”

“Ooh.”

The Duchess blushed, “I think I like Tyra Satine.”

“Tyra Satine,” Fesma grinned, “it certainly has a ring to it.”

A month later, Satine sent Fesma and Khaami, disguised under heavy cloaks, to a seedy bar in lower Sundari with a chest full of jewels. The Duchess listened in from her room, carefully following the criminal’s instructions on how to spread the news. Then the items were exchanged, three USBs for a chest of jewels. Fesma and Khaami nodded, so did the criminal conspirator, before going their separate ways. Still, Satine was nervous until they arrived back at the palace.

“Oh, thank you,” the Duchess embraced her ladies, “thank you!”

“Of course, Satine,” Khaami smiled, “things are going to be better from now on.”

The next morning, a story broke about the Former Duke of Mandalore, Adonai Kryze, the rumor going around was that he’d had a bastard son who had died in the civil war, and that he’d left a wife and child behind. After a week, the rumors grew so big that Satine was asked about them at a press conference.

“I do not know whether or not what people are saying is true,” The Duchess said solemnly, “I learned of this possibility from the media myself.”

At the end of the press conference, Satine traveled back to her room, claiming she had a slight headache. Khaami and Fesma were waiting for her.

“How did it go?” Fesma questioned.

“Good,” the Duchess paused, “they ate it up.”

Grabbing onto the back of her chair, Satine groaned.

“Satine?”

“I think-”

A burst of water splashed onto the floor and the Duchess swayed.

“Satine!”

Fesma ran to the Duchess and pulled her arm around her shoulder, supporting her just below the arms.

“Khaami, the droid and the pain relievers!”

As quickly as they could, the trio made their way through the less populated halls of the serving corridors down into the basement. The first wave of pain hit Satine two landings from the basement door, it was as if her lower half was burning and decaying at the same time, flaring up and dissipating at the same time. She gasped heavily and faltered, but Fesma held her steady.

“I can’t feel my legs,” the Duchess moaned, “I can’t-”

“We’re so close, Satine,” Fesma assured, “we’re so close.”

Finally, when the pain passed, the Duchess and her ladies continued down the stairs. 

“Please,” Satine whined as Khaami struggled with the door, “it’s starting again.”

The door opened with a creek and Fesma flinched, but Satine yanked her forward as she made her way to the bed. Khaami set down the droid and closed the door, then she opened a metal drawer of steaming towels.

“How-”

“Stolen from the guest freshers,” the maid smiled, “I thought we’d need them.”

Satine nodded, lips drawn tightly.

Something buzzed, “I am Oiyo, the medical droid, what seems to be the problem here?”

“I’m kriffing giving birth!” Satine swore.

“Stay calm,” advised the droid, “and please answer some questions.”

The Duchess opened her mouth to yell at the droid again, but a shriek escaped her instead.

“You are a female of the human species, correct?”

“Yes!” Satine gasped.

“Is this your first baby?”

“Yes!”

The droid turned to Khaami, “Nurse, get behind the human female and support her upper body.”

The maid obeyed, and Fesma began to undo Satine’s corset.

“She shouldn’t be wearing that.” the droid observed.

The Duchess heaved a sigh of relief when the tightness left her stomach.

“Spread your legs, please.”

Shaking with the effort, Satine managed to spread her legs.

“If we have any pain relief,” the droid droned, “we should administer it now.”

Fesma stood, “I’ll get some water.”

Satine whimpered as Fesma sped from the room. Khaami rubbed her back.

“Roll up your skirt, please, I need to see my work.”

Satine pulled up her skirt and clenched her hands tightly around the material, hissing as the droid touched its cold fingers to her inner thigh.

“Contractions are progressing nicely,” the droid stated, “you should begin pushing in approximately four point three minutes.”

Satine groaned, the only thing she could feel was pain.

“I’m back!” Fesma announced, shutting the door tightly behind her.

Satine noticed the two water bottles in her ladys’ hands, and the Duchess began to pray.

“This is almost medieval.” Khaami noted as Fesma hand-fed Satine pain relieving pills.

“That will only ease some of the pain.” the medical droid agreed.

“Still,” Fesma frowned, “We agreed to help our lady.”

As the hours progressed, Satine’s throat grew hoarse as her screams grew more violent.

“What time is it?” Khaami questioned.

“Eleven o’clock on the twenty third of Mae Month.” stated the medical droid calmly.

Satine wailed. Fesma, who was assisting the droid with warm hand towels and holding its tools, ducked her head and inhaled sharply.

“What is it?” the Duchess simpered.

“I can see the head, Satine,” Fesma’s face went blank, “it’s a very messy business.”

In response, the droid leaned down and worked silently. 

“Push, please.” it beeped cheerfully.

Satine squeezed Khaami’s hands like her life depended on it, and after a tremendous heave and seven quick gasps, Satine had a baby.

“Congratulations, you have a son.”

Bursting into tears, Satine held her arms out. Fesma wiped the baby clean then placed him into his mother’s discarded corset. Khaami leaned over the Duchess’ shoulder and dabbed her eyes.

“Here you go, Satine.” Fesma grinned.

She took the baby in her arms and sniffled, cradling her son’s small body against hers.

“Korkyrach Kryze,” Satine smiled, “it’s wonderful to meet you.”

The baby giggled in response.

“Aw!”

“He should be kept in a blanket.” the droid suggested.

Fesma stood, “I’ll go get one.”

“Bring two!” Satine called, laughing.

The medical droid’s innards began to whirl and soon a piece of paper was ejecting out from its stomach.

“Printing birth certificate.”

Satine stared at Khaami, wide-eyed.

“Please input information correctly,” the droid stated, “it is a felony if you do not.”

“A felony?”

The droid handed Khaami the birth certificate.

“We have to fill this out correctly, Satine,” the lady bit her lip, “we could make a fake one and hide this one in the palace archives.”

Satine looked down at the baby, then nodded.

“I’m back!” Fesma panted.

“Wrap Korkie in the blanket,” Satine ordered, handing Fesma the baby, “we have to fill out the birth certificate.”

“Birth certificate?”

The medical droid beeped and offered Satine a pen. Turning her upper body, the Duchess pressed the sheet against the wall and wrote.

Name: Korkyrach Kryze  Date of Birth: 23, Mae, 39 BBY  Birth Time: 11:12

Home Planet: Mandalore  Mother: Satine Kryze  Father: ___________________

Satine’s hand began to shake.

“Why don’t we leave that one blank.” Khaami suggested kindly.

“Something’s wrong,” Satine said suddenly, “it hurts again.”

“Is it the placenta?” Khaami asked, taking the paper and pen from Satine.

The medical droid leaned down and examined its patient.

“Your body is preparing for another birth,” the droid observed, “you’re having twins.”

Satine’s mouth dropped open, then she began to grunt in pain.

“Lay back down,” Khaami suggested, pulling Satine’s shoulders back, “you can do this.”

Fesma offered her lady a quick sip of water before returning to help the medical droid.

“This one’s coming quickly, Satine,” Fesma stated, a mix of shock and fear in her voice, “not much longer.”

The Duchess screamed. Korkie cried, he was back in his mother’s arms now, and Satine was trying not to squeeze him too tight.

Wailing, the Duchess prayed and begged for this to be over soon. Fesma handed the droid a knife.

“One last push, Satine!”

As soon as the Duchess stopped crying, another pair of lungs did.

“Congratulations,” the medical droid beeped, “you have a daughter.”

Fesma wrapped up the baby in the spare blanket and gently placed her in her mother’s arms. Khaami rested her head on Satine’s shoulder.

“Tyra-Satine,” smiled the Duchess, “I think it fits her perfectly.”

Within the next hour, both birth certificates were filled out, and while Khaami helped Satine nurse the babies, Fesma wiped the droid’s memory and began to clean up.

[hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis]

Caught In Between 18. Lost In Thought

Summary: Athena Dumont has finally found a place to call home after many years of foster homes and traveling. She had finally tamed her supernatural side and just wanted to live a normal teenage life. She quickly discovers that there is nothing normal about her hometown, Mystic Falls and gets sucked right back into the supernatural world.

Post Date: 09.15.20

Word count: 2.6k

Based off: 03x15 “All My Children”

Masterlist

CIB Masterlist

The next morning I come out of my room to find Rebekah and Damon leaving his room, “Well surprise, surprise. Ah not really,” I say as they pass my bedroom.

“I thought you’d be with Nik last night, seeing as you two have been getting closer and closer by the minute, guess I was wrong,” Rebekah taunts.

I scoff and roll my eyes at her comment, “And why are you so worried about Klaus and me? Thought you didn’t like me very much,” I question crossing my arms.

“I just think that--” Rebekah starts.

“Let’s not get into this ladies,” Damon interrupts pushing Rebekah passed my room. I follow them downstairs as Damon escorts her to the front door. As Damon opens the door a very confused Elena is found behind it.

“Did you stop taking your vervain?” Elena asks after making her way into the house.

“You think Rebekah had to compel me?” Damon questions back while putting a shirt on.

“What’s wrong with you? She tried to kill me less than 48 hours ago,” Elena explains.

“Can’t we just move past that, Elena?” Damon asks making his way across the room.

“So is that how it’s gonna be now? I hurt your feelings, and this is how you lash out at me?” Elena asks as I settle myself on the couch.

“Well, maybe, for once. Something I did had nothing to do with you. Plus I don’t see you grilling Athena for her and Klaus’ little affair thing,” Damon states pointing over at me.

“Don’t put this on me,” I respond.

“She’s not actively sleeping with an original,” Elena defends me. “You should know…that Esther’s planning on killing her entire family. She’s linked them all together with a spell. Whatever happens to one happens to all of them,” Elena explains as I hop up from the couch as quickly as I could.

“That’s great. Klaus’ll finally be dead. We win,” Damon states happily. “Why do you two look like someone just shot a panda bear?” Damon asks noticing the upset looks on both Elena and I’s faces.

“Because to kill Klaus, she has to kill all of them, including Elijah,” Elena states.

“And he doesn’t deserve that,” I quickly state after.

“Exactly,” Elena agrees.

“What about Klaus, Athena? Don’t you have something say about killing him?” Damon questions.

“Just because I’m sired to him doesn’t mean I don’t think he deserves to die. He hurt me worse than anyone else has in my life,” I state.

“Sure. And I’m supposed to care about Elijah?” Damon asks.

“Shouldn’t you at least care about Rebekah?” Elena asks as I look at Damon raising my eyebrows.

“Two seconds ago, you were pissed that she attacked you. It’s a win-win,” Damon states. Elena tries to walk away but Damon quickly stops her. “Don’t do anything to screw this up, Elena.” Damon threatens.

“Why are you doing this?” Elena asks.

“He’s right, you know. Klaus has to die. They all do,” Stefan states coming from the hallway.

“See? Democracy in action,” Damon states before Elena leaves bumping him, spilling his drink.

“Look I know they’ve all hurt us one way or another but we all know Elijah doesn’t deserve to die. He’s done the least to us,” I state to the brothers.

“I think you’re outnumbered on this one sweetheart,” Damon responds. I don’t respond and decide to head upstairs not feeling up for dealing with the brothers anymore.

Once I made it to my room I found another box on my bed. Knowing who it was from, I moved it into my closet, out of sight out of mind. Except after a few minutes, I let my curiosity get the best of me...again. 

Once I opened the box, on top was a note that said, “I hope this inspires you, Klaus.” On the flip side was a small sketch of me in a field of sunflowers. What remained in the box was an array of art supplies, a sketchbook, and a few canvases. As much as I wanted to toss the supplies away, I missed sketching and painting as I hadn’t had time since moving to Mystic Falls. 

I spent most of the day sketching and just disappearing in my own world. A few hours had passed until I heard a knock on my door. I open it to find Damon, “Yes?” I question.

“You seem to be in a much better mood,” Damon states hearing the softness in my voice. “Have you heard from Eleana? She’s not answering her phone calls and Ric hasn’t seen her since this morning,” Damon explains.

“Uhhh… no, I haven’t talked to her since this morning,” I respond.

“Well, let me know if you do. Stefan is out looking for her right now,” Damon says.

“Oh for sure. Hope she’s alright,” I respond.

I spent a few more hours sketching and soon enough it ended up being dark. I forgot how lost I could get while drawing. Realizing that I needed to eat something I decide to head downstairs. Once I made it down, I saw Stefan make his way into the house.

“Can’t find her anywhere,” He says frustrated.

“Hello, Stefan,” I hear Elijah’s voice from the great room. Curious of what’s happening I make my way over and find the Salvatores by the door and Elijah in a chair by the fireplace.

“He has Elena,” Stefan states.

“Elijah,” I say disappointed.

“Actually she’s with Rebekah,” Elijah says disregarding my disapproval for what he’s done. “As you can imagine. My sisters just dying to tear her throat out. So if you want to save Elena’s life, I need you to help me stop my mother,” Elijah explains.

“I’m a little embarrassed to admit, but when it comes to killing thousand-year-old resurrected witches, I’m a little rusty,” Damon responds.

“Yes, unfortunately even when killed, my mother doesn’t seem to want to stay dead, not with the spirits of nature at her side,” Elijah says.

“So what are we supposed to do?” Stefan asks stepping forwards.

“The witches that released my mother, she’s drawing her power from their bloodline. That bloodline needs to be broken,” Elijah explains.

“Broken?” I question.

“Yeah, he means…” Damon says and puts a finger to his throat meaning killed.

“You want us to kill them,” Stefan says.

“You know I’d do it myself, but I’ve absolutely no idea where they are. Besides, seeing me, they’d immediately know my intent. They won’t expect to be harmed by the likes of you.” Elijah explains getting up from this seat. “In any case, you have until 6 minutes after 9:00 to find them,” Elijah says.

“Oh, how superspecific of you,” Damon says annoyed.

“By 9:07 the moon’ll be full, my mother will have the power she needs to kill me and my family. If you do not stop her before then, Rebekah will kill Elena. So we all have our timeline. I suggest you get started,” Elijah says before letting himself out.

“And you were saying about Elijah being undeserving of dying?” Damon questions at me. I just scoff and head back up to my room, not wanting to talk about this.

A few minutes pass by before I once again hear a knock on my door, “Here to give me a lecture?” I ask knowing it was Damon.

“No, you, me, and Stefan need to come up with a plan come on,” Damon says walking back down the hall.

“And what makes you think I want to be a part of this, he clearly wanted it to be you two,” I state not shifting from my position.

“Because Elena is in trouble and I know you want to save her,” Damon says from down the hall.

“You really know how to push my buttons,” I state making my way out of my room. We head down to the basement where Stefan is debating on drinking from a blood bag.

“Clock’s ticking. You gonna help us brainstorm a plan, or you too busy fixing a snack?” Damon questions his brother.

“We need to call Bonnie. There’s gotta be a way for her to stop Esther from channeling all that power.” Stefan states closing the fridge lid.

“‘A’ what if shes with Esther? ‘B’ what is she can’t cut her off? ‘C’ I don’t know how any of this stuff works, and ‘D’ neither do you,” Damon states.

“You got a better plan?” Stefan asks.

“Wore-case scenario simple mechanics. Can’t draw power from a dead battery,” Damon states.

“Kill ‘em,” Stefan says knowing that’s where Damon was getting out.

“If it comes to that,” Damon says. He then takes the bag from Stefan’s hands and drinks from it.

“There’s gotta be another way,” I say.

“Well, what if I told you two I had a less diabolical plan?” Damon asks and holds up a dagger.

“You wanna dagger Elijah,” Stefan says taking notice of the dagger.

“Well, they’re all linked. One goes down, they all go down. The witches live. Elena’s safe. Problem solved,” Damon states.

“We don’t know how that’ll affect Klaus,” I state.

“Ironically, Klaus isn’t our current problem,” Damon states.

“Dagger’s lethal to any vampire who uses one,” Stefan says.

“Well, I just so happen to know someone crazy enough to give it a shot,” Damon says before making a call. The call was to Alaric to confirm if Klaus and Kol were still at the Mystic Grill.

“What’s the plan?” I hear Alaric ask over the phone.

“Divide and conquer. First, we’ll need a little brunette distraction,” Damon says eyeing me. I roll my eyes knowing that means I have to talk to Klaus. Damon explains the rest of the plan and then hangs up.

“Do I really have to?” I ask a bit whiny.

“If we want to take them down, without killing them. Keeping everyone safe. Then yes,” Damon states.

“You are so lucky I care too much about you all,” I sigh.

“Then it’s settled. Get to the Grill,” Damon says.

I quickly get myself ready from my little interaction with Klaus, hoping it wouldn’t go south on my end or the others. I make my way into the Grill and head on the way to Klaus and his brother. I take notice of Alaric and let him know I’m the distraction by a slight look over.

~At the Bar~

“I remember her from last night. She looks like a tasty little thing,” Kol says to his brother.

“Say another word, and I’ll tear out your liver,” Klaus threatens taking notice of Athena from across the room.

~Athena’s POV~

“Athena,” Klaus says gaining my attention, as needed.

“What do you want?” I ask crossing my arms.

“Join us for a drink?” Klaus asks as Kol raises his glass.

“I’m not in the mood for chit chat, but thanks,” I say before heading back to the door.

~Klaus and Kol at the Bar~

“Isn’t she stunning?” Klaus asks Kol.

“She certainly looks good walking away from you,” Kol responds.

“I’ll take that as a challenge,” Klaus says before heading to Athena.

~Athena’s POV~

I head towards the town square across the street, “Athena,” I hear Klaus from behind me, as I was hoping, for the sake of Damon’s plan but not my own wishes.

“What?” I ask stopping in my tracks turning towards him. “I’m not in the mood to talk with you,” I turn back around and continue to walk.

“Don’t be angry, love. We had a little spat. I’m over it already, I’m willing to fight,” Klaus states.

“I’m not and I don’t see you fighting,” I state still walking.

“Well, how can I acquit myself? You weren’t very clear on the instructions,” Klaus asks.

I stop in my tracks, “You know what you have to do. And I’m not really in the mood to talk about this,” I state.

“Take a chance, Athena. At least talk to me, no fights,” Klaus says sitting down on the bench beside us. I look at him almost like he was crazy. “Come on. Let’s catch up,” Klaus says seeming happy that he was even able to get my attention. “I dare you,” He smiles.

“Fine,” I respond after a few moments of making Klaus think I was debating it and sit next to him. Klaus continues to look at me intently, with that soft look he gave me the night before. “So, what do you want to talk about? Catch up on?” I ask.

“Well, for starters, did you get my gift?” He asks. “Then your hopes. Your-your dreams. Everything you want in life. The things you never told me when we first met. You were very secretive you know,” Klaus states.

“Well, being a teenager alone in the world, you learn to be,”  I laugh. “And you mean the art supplies, huh?” I ask.

“Yeh, did you like them? Did you draw or--or paint anything?” He asks.

“Uh yeah. Lost track of time today actually,” I state.

“What did you draw?” He asks. 

“Just some flowers,” I say. As much as I hated to admit to myself, but I missed the little talks like this with Klaus. I missed...him, being there for me, looking out for me. I almost felt at peace, like there was no one else in the world but us. 

“You know I miss you, I truly do,” Klaus says. “I miss our moments like this, where it feels like it’s just us,” Klaus takes a hold of my hands and stares into my eyes.

“Klaus--I,” I start but before I could finish my un-thought out sentence, Klaus  stands up and starts to breathe a bit heavy, “What is it?” I question pretending to not know what was going on.

“What did you do?” He questions me.

“Nothing,” I state, hoping the tone of my voice was believable.

“What did you do?” Klaus asks once more with urgency grasping the sides of my arms.

“I didn’t do anything. Stop it,” I say once more. 

Klaus lets go of me and looks back to the grill, “Kol,” He says before rushing off, leaving me by myself.

I quickly make my way back to the Salvatore house in hopes that they completed their mission. Unfortunately, it was just me, leaving me with just my thoughts. At this moment, not a great idea. I don’t know how to feel about Klaus and my friends. Part of me wants to be with him, part of me feels like it’s just the sire bond and part of me wants to stick with my friends. It doesn’t help much that I had a small heart to heart with Klaus and Elena is in danger. I feel like I’m fighting with my self.

An hour or so later I hear the front door shut, alarming me to the fact that someone is home. I make my way out of my room to see who it was. I notice Damon making his way to his room. 

“Did it work? Is Elena safe?” I ask. 

“Uh, I think so but Stefan would know better. We at least know we stopped Esther, so assuming Elijah keeps his word, Elena should be ok. Are you ok?” He asks me.

“Yeh, I’m fine. Just trying to sort my thoughts. But I’m glad you’re ok,” I respond.

“Have another quarrel?” Damon asks.

“No,” I respond not really wanting to give any details of Klaus and I’s conversation.

“Well, I’m just glad you’re not hurt either,” Damon says before continuing to head to his room.

“Night,” I say seeing as he’s not in the mood to talk. 

A/N: More reveals for Klaus and Athena’s relationship and feelings. I hope you guys enjoyed this little filler. BTW I’m skipping the next two eps because I can’t find a place for Athena to fit in and I want to get further in the show. So sorry in advance if some of the stuff seems weirdly placed (I guess?).

🏷: @tristanacarry​ | @commentaryfanfic​ | @april-14-blog​ |  @simonsbluee​ | @awkwardspontaneity​ | @keiko0​

[thepinkseat-askthemoonbunny]

Name: Enrico Arthur Emil Hellsing-Maxwell, also known as EJ or Rico.

Gender: Male

Age: 12 (at the beginning of his story)

Hair: Silver, collarbone length

Eyes: Dark blue

Skin color: Light brown

Height: 5’6 (he’s a tall boi)

Weight: 118 lbs

Bio: Rico, like his twin sister really wasn’t supposed to exist...his parents loathed each other, neither of them were ready for a child and it was just supposed to be a casual mistake. When his mother, Sir Integra Hellsing found out she was pregnant, her first instinct was to get an abortion. Not only was she pregnant by the man she loathed the most in the world, she simply wasn’t prepared to have a child. She couldn’t afford to be out of commission for that long, but Maxwell after finding out about her pregnancy (through stolen medical records) was firmly against anything of the sort.

Over the weeks she weighed her options, and decided to keep the child on account that she’d have heirs to her organization, and it would save her the trouble of having to arrange a marriage. They got used to the thought of being parents, and when Rico and his twin sister Lisa were born, they came kicking and screaming into a world of monster hunting and religious upheaval.

Their parents probably should’ve never been parents, but they did do the best they could. Rico never grew up doubting his parents loved him and his sister...loving each other on the other hand, completely out of the question. At first they’d tried to make it work out for the sake of the kids but it was in the best interests of everyone involved that they separate, and eventually they came up with a custody arrangement when the children were old enough to travel. Six months in England, six months in Rome. That way they’d get both parents and not have to worry about them murdering one another. During his early years, he was mostly sheltered from the more gruesome details of Hellsing because Integra had never had a proper childhood, and that was something she wanted to give her children. She wanted them to retain their innocence as long as they could, so it wasn’t until recently that he actually began any monster hunter training. As of a year ago, Rico was declared the heir to Hellsing on account of his choosing Protestantism and joining the Anglican Church, so he’s currently being prepared for that role.

Personality: Rico is a curious and energetic boy, a bit more rambunctious compared to his more quiet and contemplative sister. He’s the hands behind most of their pranks, she plans and he sets into action. To channel that boundless energy he likes to work with his hands and spends most of his time building/tinkering with things. Model cars, computers, you name it. He’s actually a really sweet kid, loves to be around people and make new friends...but can be a little too “in your face” and chatty as it were, he needs to learn how to chill. He doesn’t like conflict, and will excuse himself from the situation when things get too heated, and unlike his sister he doesn’t bottle things up very much.

Relationships:

Elisabetta Hellsing-Maxwell: Lisa is Rico’s twin and best friend, the two of them are practically joined at the hip and you rarely see one without the other. She often has to reign him in and he’s often the voice of reason to some of her crazier ideas, the two of them are utterly devoted to one another even if they do fight sometimes. He often jokes that he’ll never love another woman as much as he does her (even more so after he finds out he’s gay).

Sir Integra Hellsing: Rico very much loves his mother, and often models a lot of her mannerisms as he is going to be her heir one day, so he follows her example in a lot of ways. The two of them are very close, he’s a bit of a “mama’s boy” as it were, but Integra does often worry about his spontaneity as it could get him into trouble. She aims to raise him to be a gentleman-knight, and to transform the world around him rather than being a simple passer-by....he’s going to make his mark in the world as a man, and every door is open to him if he wants it badly enough. Integra tends to be very protective of her children, especially with all the threats that both sides of the fence face from each other and all the supernatural monsters of the world. She’s mama bear, don’t fuck with her cubs or you’ll lose an eye...and sometimes this can lead to her still babying them a bit, trying to compensate for the childhood that she never got to have.

Enrico Maxwell Sr: Rico and his father have had a really good relationship, the two of them would often spend time together, although like Lisa, Rico is a bit scared of his dad’s Catholic extremist tendencies. Since Lisa was the older twin, Maxwell had hoped that his son would grow up to run Iscariot one day after he decided to retire (yeah right)...however, you can see that their relationship has become strained lately after the Bishop heard the news of his son deciding to be Anglican. To say he was disappointed was the understatement of the year, and Rico can sense that. He doesn’t understand why his dad can’t just accept the fact, I mean it doesn’t hurt anybody right?

Alucard: Alucard is like half-nanny, half-attack dog. He did NOT like the kids at first because they were a reminder that that Italian slimeball “defiled” his master, but over the years they’ve kinda grown on him. They have somewhere between a Seras and Integra relationship, he knows Rico be his master one day but he’s also still small enough that he can kinda intimidate and flex on her. But he’s hella protective of the both of them he wouldn’t let anything happen. They have a cross between a bickering siblings relationship with a hint of “scary monsters in my basement.”

Anderson: He’s basically his surrogate grandparent and he, like Lisa, calls him Granddad. He may be a scary, Catholic Paladin but he loves the kiddos...and the twins are kind of special to him. Maxwell is his son, and because of the way he turned out, Alexander feels like he failed. With them, it’s almost a reminder of what their dad could’ve been, so it’s almost like a do-over he’s determined not to waste with them. He and Integra begrudgingly tolerate each other for their sake. He is a bit more partial to Rico because he IS the boy, so he reminds him a lot of a young Maxwell.

Seras: Rico’w second big sister. While Alucard is the older sibling that will encourage you to get into all sorts of holy hell, Seras will reign him back a little.

Heinkel and Yumie: Maxwell often makes them babysit the twins while he’s busy, and they get SO ANNOYED by it. But with him, not with them. Heinkel is that “cool auntie” who will buy her beer and teach you her to shoot guns, Yumie is the kinda neurotic aunt who wants to be by the rules only because she’s terrified of what Maxwell will do if they cross a line. Heinkel and Rico both bond over a love of cool weapons.

Walter: His “other granddad”, he often tells him things that he doesn’t tell anybody else because he’s literally one of the few religiously neutral people in their life. “I think I’m just gonna become an atheist at this point, Walter.”

[rhosyn-du]

Title: A Wonderful Institution Artist: @bidnezz​​ Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, various background pairings Word Count: ~53k Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, discrimination against Downworlders, reference to rape, Clave-typical homophobia, implied character death, minor character death Summary: Magnus doesn’t have time for this bullshit. Warlocks are disappearing in New York City—five people in less than three months—and Magnus is determined to find them and protect the rest of his people from whatever took them. He doesn’t have time for politics, and he certainly doesn’t have time for whatever nonsense the Clave is proposing about marrying a Shadowhunter to a Downworlder as part of the new Accords. He doesn’t really have time for a pretty Shadowhunter who’s surprisingly kind to warlock children, either, but, well, he’s always been good at multitasking.

Alec always knew he couldn’t have what he wanted, but he’s spent the nearly four years since the newly-appointed Consul recalled his parents to Idris without explanation making the best of what he can have. When life suddenly offers up almost everything Alec actually wants on a silver platter, he can’t quite bring himself to trust it, especially when it comes with a million caveats and a side of impending disaster. But he knows how to handle disasters, even if the return of the Circle on top of Clave secrets that could destroy the Accords is way beyond the disasters he’s used to fielding. Hope, on the other hand? He doesn’t know what to do with that.

This fic was created for the @malecdiscordserver​​ Mini Bang 2020.

Chapter Two

There were too many Shadowhunters in Magnus’s loft. It had probably been a mistake to invite Alec in the first place, but Magnus had let his judgment be swayed by a pretty face and a frightened child, and now he was stuck with the man’s sister and parabatai, too.

Magnus thought that perhaps, had they met under different circumstances, he might have enjoyed Isabelle’s company. Jace, on the other hand, managed to perfectly embody the condescending arrogance that so annoyed Magnus about Shadowhunters.

“Help him up into a sitting position,” Magnus instructed. “It will help the potion go down easier.” He spared a reassuring smile for Madzie, who sat curled up in a chair with Mr. Flopsy, watching the proceedings with worried eyes that nonetheless kept blinking toward sleep.

Isabelle and Jace did as instructed, maneuvering an unconscious Alec from his sprawl across Magnus’s couch into something that resembled an upright position.

Magnus leaned over Alec’s head, where it lolled against the back of the couch, hand resting against Alec’s cheek to hold him steady.

“Alexander,” he said softly. “if you can hear me, I need you to swallow the potion I’m going to give you.”

There was no response. Magnus hadn’t really expected one, but thought it was worth saying in case some part of Alec’s unconscious mind heard him.

Slowly, Magnus poured the potion into Alec’s open mouth, stroking a hand down Alec’s neck to encourage swallowing. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the movement of Alec’s throat beneath his fingers.

“He should be awake in a few minutes,” Magnus said.

“Thank you,” Isabelle said with an air of genuine gratitude that Magnus had rarely heard from a Shadowhunter.

“It was no problem, my dear,” Magnus said, and was surprised to realize he meant it.

As soon as Alec woke, the Shadowhunters would be out of his hair, and he could deal with every other disaster the evening had presented him with. Like the mundane woman and infant warlock currently asleep in his guest room, under Catarina’s watchful eye.

As if his thoughts had summoned her, Catarina stepped out of the guest room, closing the door softly behind her. She motioned to Magnus, who joined her in the corner of the room. As he’d suspected would happen, Madzie had fallen asleep in her chair.

“The mundane is under a whole tangle of memory spells,” Catarina said quietly. “Too many for me to untangle in one evening, and honestly, after hearing the little she did remember, I don’t know if it would be good for her to remember the rest of it.”

“That bad?” Magnus asked, frowning.

“I can’t be entirely sure, but I think…” Catarina let out a tired breath. “I think Iris has been luring or kidnapping mundane women and forcing them to bear warlock children.”

Magnus took a deep breath to rein in the fury that suddenly flared through him. Deal with the practicalities first.

“Does she remember if there were other mundane women living at the house?”

Catarina shook her head. “One of the few things Leigh is very clear on is that she and Iris were the only ones caring for the children. And she remembers that she’s Noah’s mother, although thankfully for her sanity, she doesn’t remember anything about how she came to be pregnant.”

“Lucky for her, certainly,” Magnus said, “but that leaves us not knowing where Iris was getting the demons.”

“Actually,” Catarina said, “she also mentioned something about the basement of the house being dangerous. It could be nothing, but…”

“But it could be that Iris was keeping a captive demon in the basement for her disgusting breeding program,” Magnus finished for her.

“We can go check it out after your guests leave and we get Madzie into an actual bed,” Catarina offered.

“I have a better idea,” Magnus said, glancing over his shoulder to where Jace and Isabelle were conferring quietly on the couch beside a still-unconscious Alec. “Shadowhunter!”

“Warlock,” Jace responded, sounding bored, but he and Isabelle rose to join Magnus and Catarina.

Magnus rolled his eyes. “I have reason to believe a missing warlock might have been keeping one or more demons captive in her basement. I thought perhaps you might want to look into it, since dealing with demons is kind of your whole,” he waved a hand, “Shadowhunter thing.”

Jace and Isabelle exchanged a quick look, then Isabelle said, “We will look into it. If you give me the address, I’ll make sure someone checks it out.”

“While you’re at it,” Alec muttered from the couch, eyes blinking open, “could you look into being a little less loud?”

Isabelle was the first to reach his side, with Jace close behind. Magnus took his time joining them.

“You had us worried for a minute there, big brother,” Isabelle said.

“How are you feeling?” Jace asked, and the concern was so evident in his tone that Magnus could almost forgive him for being such a complete pain in his ass. Almost.

“Headache,” Alec answered. “No serious damage except maybe my pride. Did I really get taken down by a Ravener demon?”

“You did,” Magnus answered, “but given that there were at least two dozen of them, I think your pride will recover.”

Alec looked up at him then, and Magnus was caught once again in those startling hazel eyes. He wondered how it was possible for a man he’d only just met to have such an effect on him.

“Thank you,” Alec said. “For healing me. You didn’t have to.”

“Nonsense,” Magnus said. “If I’d been faster, you might not have been hurt in the first place. Although,” he added with a flirtatious smile, “if you really wanted to thank me, you could buy me a drink sometime.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Magnus saw Isabelle cover a smile with her hand and decided that, yes, she could also have an exemption to his one Shadowhunter in the loft is too many rule.

“Uh,” Alec said, looking bemused, “you can bill the Institute for your time. How long was I out?”

“About fifteen minutes,” Jace told him.

“And the demons?”

“All of the trails converged on the alley where we found you,” Isabelle said. “We got there just in time for your dramatic collapse,” she added, grinning.

Alec winced. “Ouch. Wounded pride, remember?”

“I suspect the demons were tracking Madzie,” Magnus said. “I followed their trail from the house where she was staying with several other warlocks. It’s not the first attack of this kind I’ve seen in recent months, although it is the largest.”

“This got something to do with the missing warlock you mentioned?” Alec wanted to know.

Magnus nodded. “One of several, I’m afraid.” Although he couldn’t quite bring himself to feel too bad that Iris had been taken, not if Catarina’s suspicions proved true.

“And this has been going on for months.” It wasn’t a question. Alec looked at Jace. “Why is this the first I’m hearing about this?”

“It’s the first I’ve heard of it too,” Jace answered, shaking his head.

“We haven’t exactly been advertising the disappearances,” Magnus said. “And to be honest, I don’t think anyone expected Shadowhunters to care about a few missing warlocks.”

“Well, I do,” Alec said, annoyance clear in his voice. “We do.” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “We should get back to the Institute,” he said, standing. “Thank you, again. For healing me, and for having my back.”

“It was my pleasure, Alexander,” Magnus answered. “It is, tragically, not every day I have handsome men swooning in my arms.”

Magnus thought he caught the tiniest hint of a smile as Alec rose from the couch.

“I’ll let you know if I hear anything about those missing warlocks,” Alec promised.

“Please contact me if you do,” Magnus told him. “Or if there’s anything else you think we might be able to help each other out with.”

Magnus saw the Shadowhunters out, then returned to the living room, where Catarina was watching him with amusement.

“Oh, he’s too pretty not to flirt with and you know it,” Magnus told her.

“I said nothing,” she said, shaking her head but still smiling.

Magnus flopped theatrically onto his finally empty couch and closed his eyes. He thought perhaps one was the right number of Shadowhunters to have in his loft, so long as it was the right one.

Alec managed to get a full five hours of sleep before a pounding on his door woke him. He’d meant to go straight to bed when they’d returned to the Institute, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him, and instead he’d spent nearly an hour reading everything in the Clave database about Magnus Bane, and then another two lying awake in the dark, trying to reconcile any of it with the man who’d fought at his side and saved him from demon venom. Who’d caught him when he fell.

Before Alec could shake the cobwebs of dream and the vague impression of kohl-rimmed eyes from his mind and answer, his sister was opening the door and barging right in.

“Come right in, Iz,” Alec muttered into his pillow.

“Sorry, hermano,” Izzy said, perching on the side of his bed, “but I thought you’d want to know that Mom’s here.”

That woke him right up.

“Did she say why she’s here?”

Izzy shook her head. “Just that she wanted to see you when you were up. She said she’d be in her office.”

Her office. Of course. Never mind that his parents had been in Idris for most of the past four years, or that neither of them had even set foot in the New York Institute in over six months, they were still technically Heads of the Institute. Alec just hoped she didn’t move anything important on his desk. Her desk. Fuck.

Alec tried not to be bitter about it, he really did, but some days it was harder than others, and today was apparently one of those days.

“Thanks for letting me know. Can you tell her I’ll be there in twenty minutes?”

“Can do, big brother.” She leaned in to give him a hug. “I’ll be training if you need a sparring partner to blow off some steam with after.”

It took exactly ten seconds in his mother’s presence for Alec to know he would most definitely want to hit things after this meeting. There was a brittle edge to her perfunctory smile that managed to convey all of the same disappointment evident in her recent letters while not quite hiding a bone-deep exhaustion. Not for the first time, Alec wondered what exactly his parents were doing in Idris.

“Mother,” Alec said, stepping into the office and falling instinctively into parade rest. “This is unexpected. If I’d known you were coming, I would have been awake to welcome you.”

“It was a last-minute decision,” Maryse answered. “I finished what I was working on earlier than expected, and Consul Penhallow suggested I come and ensure everything is set for next week’s negotiations.”

It made sense that the Clave would send someone to oversee preparations for the final round of negotiations over the revised Accords, since those negotiations were to be held at the New York Institute. It even made sense that the Clave would send Maryse, as one of the official Heads of Institute. But Alec couldn’t quite shake the suspicion that his mother was here for more personal reasons.

“I’m sure you’ll find everything in order,” Alec said. “Will Father be joining you?”

Maryse’s answering smile was tight. “Your father will be here in time for the negotiations. He still has some things to take care of in Idris.”

Her smile sharpened, and Alec knew he’d been right about why she was here.

“Besides,” she continued, “I thought you and I could take this opportunity to discuss your future, just the two of us.”

Alec shook his head, suddenly feeling as though he’d gotten no sleep at all. “There’s nothing to discuss. I volunteered, the Council chose me, end of discussion.”

“There’s still time to change your mind,” Maryse said with a carefully controlled calm. “The negotiations aren’t until next week. The Council will choose someone else, and the Downworlders will never know the difference. If you’d bothered to consult me about this in the first place, or even your father—”

“I consulted with Consul Penhallow,” Alec interrupted.

“Jia Penhallow doesn’t give a damn about what your decision means for this family,” Maryse snapped. “Or what it means for you.”

Alec looked away, choosing his words carefully. “What it means for this family is that the revised Accords—the ones that you support— will be signed, and they won’t be put in jeopardy by someone who resents marrying a Downworlder for political reasons. When the Clave first announced this marriage was going to be a part of the revised Accords, you and Dad are the ones who convinced me it was necessary. I’m doing what I can to make sure it goes smoothly.

“Besides,” he continued, finally meeting his mother’s eyes again, “you’re the one who suggested I start looking for a wife.”

“I meant you should find a Shadowhunter wife, Alec!” Maryse said, throwing up her hands. “Yes, the revised Accords are important, and yes, someone needs to do this, but that person doesn’t have to be you.”

Alec regarded his mother for a long moment. “What aren’t you telling me?” he asked finally. “The Council thinks I’m the right person to do this, and so do I. If you have a reason for disagreeing that goes beyond distaste over the idea of your son marrying a Downworlder, then tell me what it is.”

For just an instant, Maryse seemed to hang on the precipice of speaking, but then her shoulders slumped, and she sighed. “I’m doing what’s best for our family, Alec.”

Alec knew his mother well enough to know that there was no point in asking again.

“So am I,” he said instead. “Is there anything else? I told Izzy I’d train with her this morning.”

Maryse shook her head. “We can discuss preparations for the negotiations when you’re feeling less recalcitrant.”

He found Izzy in the training room, practicing forms with a staff, right where she’d promised to be.

“That bad?” she asked, grabbing a second staff from the rack on the wall and tossing it to him. “Want to talk about it?”

“Nope,” he told her, feinting high, then moving to sweep her left leg.

Izzy danced out of the way, laughing. “Come on, Alec. If you’re not going to keep me up to date on family gossip, at least give me a decent fight.”

She moved toward him, throwing out three jabs in quick succession, all of which he blocked.

“Now who’s not giving a decent fight?” he taunted. “I was getting a better workout arguing with Mom.”

“You’re still recovering from last night,” she said, rolling the staff lazily across her shoulders as they circled each other. “I wouldn’t want to further damage your ego.”

“Cute,” Alec said before launching another attack, this time at Izzy’s midsection, which she blocked and rolled into her own attack.

They kept on like that for several minutes, attack and parry, back and forth, neither managing to land a blow. It was exactly what Alec needed to ease the frustration of his earlier meeting.

“Speaking of last night,” Izzy said just as Alec felt the last of the frustrated tension loose from his shoulders, “have you heard from Magnus?”

Alec felt a tiny frisson of…something deep in his belly at mention of the warlock. It distracted him enough that he didn’t quite block Izzy’s next attack, and his shoulder caught a glancing blow. It wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as Izzy’s smug grin.

“Why would I hear from Magnus?” Alec asked, rolling out his shoulder with an intentional casualness.

Izzy gave him a pointed look. “About the missing warlocks? You did promise to share information, remember?” Her grin widened as she bounced from foot to foot, looking for a hole in his defenses. “Or maybe he thinks you’d have a different answer for him if he asked you out without so many people around.”

“He didn’t— That’s not what that was,” Alec insisted. He could admit, at least to himself, that he’d been just a tiny bit flattered at Magnus’s flirting, but he wasn’t foolish enough to take it seriously.

And even if Magnus had been serious, it wouldn’t matter. Alec was getting married.

Izzy gave him her most disbelieving smirk, then added insult to injury by blocking his next attack seemingly without effort.

“Then maybe you should ask him out,” Izzy suggested. “You can’t tell me you don’t want to.”

“Izzy,” Alec said warningly, “drop it.”

“For now,” she agreed, once again darting out of range of his staff. “But don’t think this conversation is over, big brother.”

Alec was saved from answering by the arrival of a fire message. It was entirely Izzy’s fault that he let himself wonder, for those few seconds before he read it, if it might be from Magnus.

“Everything okay?” Izzy asked, lowering her staff.

“Yeah,” Alec said, frowning faintly. The message was from a warlock, just not the one he’d been hoping to hear from. “Yeah, I just gotta take care of something real quick.”

“Guess I’ll just have to kick your ass later then,” Izzy said with a shrug.

Alec decided that one wasn’t worth answering.

“Thank you again for coming,” Catarina said, leaning back against the park bench. A few feet away, Madzie was pushing Mr. Flopsy on the swing set. “She just wouldn’t believe you were really okay until she could see it for herself. And with Iris gone, she doesn’t have a whole lot of stability in her world right now.”

“I get it,” Alec said. Shadowhunters didn’t exactly tend to live long and full lives, and this wasn’t the first time he’d seen a kid who’d lost a parent figure panic over other people getting hurt. “And I don’t mind. If seeing me alive and well is what it takes to make Madzie feel safe again, that’s something I’m happy to do.”

“You’re her hero, you know,” Catarina told him. “You and Magnus. She doesn’t talk much, but when she does? It’s about how the two of you saved her. I think I’ve heard the story five times already this morning.”

“I don’t feel like much of a hero,” Alec said. “I was just doing my job.”

“Maybe,” Catarina said, watching him carefully, “but you do it a lot better than most Shadowhunters. At least where warlocks are concerned.”

Alec shrugged uncomfortably. This was not a conversation he wanted to have on a sunny morning in the park with a near-stranger.

“How are the others you rescued, the mother and baby?” he asked instead. Izzy had filled him in on the details he’d missed while he was unconscious.

“As well as they can be under the circumstances, Catarina answered. “Safe. It’s not as common that a warlock child and his mother need shelter as it is for a warlock child alone, but it’s common enough that we have safe places for them.”

“That’s—” Alec didn’t know what to say to that. He’d never really had reason to think about what life was like for warlock children, but it made sense they wouldn’t exactly have a stable home life with one mundane parent and one demon. “I’m glad they have somewhere to go.”

Alec’s phone beeped, the tone he used for alerts from the Institute, and he sighed. “Duty calls.”

Catarina gave him a tired smile. “It always does.”

At Madzie’s insistence, Alec gave Mr. Flopsy a hug before heading back to the Institute, and whatever his mother needed from him now.

For the second evening in a row, Magnus found himself with a splitting headache and in desperate need of a stiff drink. He’d spent the day speaking to Iris Rouse’s few friends in the hopes of finding something that might lead him to her or the missing children. Instead, he’d merely found that Iris’s friends were no more pleasant than the woman herself.

He was just about to open a portal back to his loft—and his plethora of whiskey—when he sensed the demonic energy. He was being followed. Very sloppily.

Instead of opening the portal, he crossed the street and headed east. If someone was stupid enough to send demons to follow him, he was damn well going to find out who and why.

The demons kept themselves well back as Magnus wove his way through crowded streets, and he began to think they were merely tracking his movements. Which was good, because he didn’t think there were more than three following him, and if these demons were sent to track him by the same person who sent the horde of Raveners after Madzie, Magnus would be very insulted that they’d sent fewer demons for him than for a six-year-old.

But if it was the same person, Magnus didn’t want these demons reporting back to the person who summoned them. Even though his investigation into the disappearance of Iris Rouse and the warlock children living with her had yielded basically nothing, he didn’t want to give the person who took them even that much information about what he did and did not know.

Decision made, he turned another corner, leading his pursuers toward an area likely to be a bit less crowded. Glamour could hide what he was doing from passersby but fighting demons in the middle of a crowded street in Midtown wasn’t exactly safe for innocent bystanders, even if it was going to be a very short fight.

It was another ten minutes before he found a short side street deserted enough Magnus wasn’t worried about some mundane accidentally stumbling into his fight. With an air of nonchalance, he stopped and pretended to examine a particularly large crack in the sidewalk.

As Magnus had hoped, the demons followed him onto the street, although they kept to the shadows. He’d been right: there were three of them. Shax demons, and almost certainly sent to spy on him. It took less than ten seconds to take them down, a blast of magic in the thorax of each.

“Well done,” came a voice from over his right shoulder.

“More like medium-rare,” Magnus said with a smirk as he spun around to face Alec. “You know, if I’d realized you were going to come dashing to my rescue, I would have left one of them for you.”

Alec raised his eyebrows in skepticism, but Magnus could see the hint of a smile underneath, and it was breathtaking. “You don’t really strike me as the type to need rescuing.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Magnus agreed. “But I wouldn’t want you to feel like I don’t appreciate the attempt.”

“That’s not— I mean, I wasn’t—” Alec blew out a long breath. “I was following up on a possible demon sighting, not trying to rescue you.”

“I suppose that’s a relief,” Magnus said, ignoring the slight twinge of disappointment that Alec was looking for demons and not for him. “It wouldn’t do for Shadowhunters to think the High Warlock of Brooklyn can’t take care of himself.”

Alec snorted. “I don’t think there’s any danger of that. ” Magnus quirked an intrigued eyebrow, and Alec hurried to add, “I just mean, the Clave’s file on you is pretty clear on your ability to take care of yourself.”

“I would question the accuracy of anything the Clave has to say about me,” Magnus said, “but I’m glad to hear they got one part right, at least.” And he was more than a little pleased that Alec had been reading up on him, even if his choice of source material was questionable.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Alec said. “Do you know what those demons were after?”

“Following me,” Magnus told him. “I spent my day investigating the latest warlock disappearances, and I suspect the person responsible sent those Shax demons to follow me and report back on my activities. Not that I’ve had much luck in finding anything.”

“Are you sure you’re safe?” Alec asked with a frown. “If the person kidnapping warlocks is tracking you, you could be their next target.”

“I appreciate your concern, Alexander,” Magnus answered sincerely, “but I assure you I’ve taken plenty of precautions. As we just covered, I’m more than capable of handling myself in a fight, and my loft is quite well warded.”

Alec’s frown lessened, but didn’t disappear entirely, and Magnus couldn’t help but be touched by his concern. “And is that where you’re headed now? Back to your loft?”

Magnus nodded. “I was thinking I could use a drink after the day I’ve had.” He paused, debating internally, then added, “Would you care to join me?”

Emotions flickered across Alec’s face like frames in an old-time film: surprise followed by delight, which was quickly doused by regret.

“Magnus, I wish— I just—”

Magnus held up a finger to silence him. “I understand.”

And he did, much as he wished he didn’t. Shadowhunters weren’t exactly accepting of same-sex relationships, nor relationships between Shadowhunters and Downworlders. Whatever attraction there might be between the two of them, Alec was obviously unwilling to pursue it. Maybe even unwilling to acknowledge it. Really, it was what Magnus should have expected, and he hated that he’d let some small part of himself hope.

Alec huffed out a frustrated breath. “You don’t,” he said, but offered no further explanation.

“Well,” Magnus said, letting his own regret show through a tiny smile, “it was a nice thought. Goodnight, Alexander.”

He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he heard a faint “goodnight,” follow him through the portal back to his loft.

[doktorpeace]

🖊 please introduce us to Erato, I know they're in a masks campaign but I have no idea what else

Oh, gosh, I feel like I talk about them too much as is but I can’t say I’m not glad to have the excuse. This is gonna be really long cause tbh I’m just gonna dump like, a bunch of their lore lmao.

Erato is my Masks: A New Generation character in a campaign being played alongside @twerkyvulture (As Amanda ‘Megafauna’ Ghorbani, The Transformed) @draayder (as Josephine ‘Rattlesnake’ Short, The Reformed) @spitblaze (as Les ‘Void’ Hawking, The Doomed) @heedra (as Enid ‘Frag Beetle’ Day, The Scion) and @skarchomp (as Parker ‘Cobalt’ Andrews, The Legacy) with @dykeceratops as our GM. The current arc features @mechanicalriddle as Zoe, The Nova as a guest member. Here’s a group shot done by @tredlocity. Clockwise from the top left: Cobalt in blue, Erato in the track suit, Les in the cloak, Zoe with the mismatched eyes, Enid’s the big robot, Amanda’s got the scales and claws, and Josephine’s got the mask and tonfa.

To get back to Erato specifically though they’re an Anti Metahuman/Metahuman Suppression Weapon created by the in universe tech group Wright Industries, founded by Ingrid Day, Enid’s mom. They’re generally stronger, faster, and more durable than humans and can copy the superpowers of others for 5-10 minutes by touching them thanks to what is basically a meta-stem cell transplant interacting with other parts of their systems. (Also, I 100% swear to god that I did not consider ‘Robot Hero Who Copies The Powers Of Others’ is literally fucking Mega Man despite loving Mega Man a ton until after I had hashed out the concept with my GM’s assistance. Only once Abby said ‘oh like mega man’ I was like ‘wait, shit’.) I’ll tell you some about them as a person before unloading their history onto you, lol. Being an android built for combat and kept in an underground research lab, kept on a rigid schedule, constantly taking tests, physical, mental, written, oral, ethical, etc. etc. etc. and under constant supervision Erato lacked for real interactive experience before the campaign started only really ever getting to takl with authority figures and their sisters. They were very passive and observational, owing in part to their power set requiring a lot of adaptation to make the most of. They’re naive and very bad at exercising discretion in decision making, sometimes they overstep boundaries when talking with people without meaning to, and they’re really emotional! They have trouble dealing with strong emotions cause they haven’t managed to discover coping mechanisms that work well for them, they tend to get angry kind of easily and need time to blow off steam. But they’re also very genuine, honest, and well meaning. They are almost never mean, rude, or snippy, they do their best to do well by others, and have a strong sense of justice paired with a deep distrust and dislike of the current legal system in universe. This is in part due to the conditions of their creation (and in part because the intent behind it was kind of right!) and in part due to Enid’s life being threatened by a representative of the state while they and their teammates were in jail after being arrested following a huge brawl with an anti-methuman terrorist group. They’re also very willing to put forth the effort to improve as a person and to mend relationship wounds, almost always apologizing first to Enid when they fight and genuinely trying to work in advice and feedback they get from others, which they often get from Les and Parker. They’re also relatively educated, from the tests of their creators, from home and public schooling, from personal research, but that doesn’t undo their naivety. They also just straight up lack some very basic and/or common sense knowledge. Like, they don’t know what a bear is. Why would you teach a battle android working in a densely populated, extremely built up city about wild animals? All in all they’re kind of inexperienced and immature and make mistakes a lot but they’re (usually) very willing to admit their mistakes and to try and improve and get better. They genuinely and truly want what’s best for others and are learning to value them self as much as their teammates. They’ve also taken it upon them self to start doing humanitarian work in their free time over the summer. In a fight Erato is adaptive and quick witted but tends to put themself in more danger than is necessary. They also sometimes use more extreme force than the others believe is called for, but after the first time they did they and Parker had a real heart to heart about it, Les helped Erato learn and practice some coping, centering, behaviors they could do even under pressure and Erato did their best to adapt. That said they Fucking Hate The Keeper So God Damned Much Because Of How Much Suffering He’s Caused Their Friends And How Much Danger He Presents And Would Kill Him With No Remorse. So they don’t intend to apologize for ripping his arms off whatsoever. They and their sisters, collectively known as The Muse Units, were made to work as a group and as a proof of concept that atomized units could replace traditional police for use against metahuman criminals and to slowly phase out The Registry, the legal department which handles general metahuman based laws. If successful the units could be mass produced and improved upon, rapidly replacing current, error prone, law enforcement. At the time of their development, between late 1999 for blueprint drafting and until mid 2002 when the project was shut down, they were the cutting edge for AI development aided in no small part by Ingrid’s technokinetic powers allowing her to make advancements few others could. (As a note Erato’s body was finished being built in early 2001 but their unique personhood didn’t really come to fruition until February 18th, 2002, so that’s what I consider their ‘birthday’.) Ultimately, however, while a few of the Muses excelled some did not perform to expectations, the project fell behind schedule, investors lost interest, and a minor scandal involving a casualty happened, resulting in the project being shut down. The Muses were placed in indefinite storage, the data gained from their short existence used on other projects such and some of the tech advancements used to inform future decisions by the company. And it would have stayed that way, if not for the fact that in 2018 Ingrid Day was revealed to be The Locust in a conflict where Enid tried to defend her against a militia group who had been hired to take her down, being shot and presumably killed in the process. As The Locust she had been terrorizing Boston for over a decade trying to take it over and being involved in the deaths of over 70 people. (Which irl btw would make her like, the 8th most prolific confirmed serial killer of all time, Yikes!) Wright Industries, desperately needing to prove their hard stance against metahuman criminals and needing a PR stunt to deflect from their connection to their former CEO re-awakened Erato. They weren’t the most powerful or best performing of the Muses, but they were above average, obedient, and had an easy enough to monitor and control power set with little risk for property damage to boot, the perfect choice. Erato then took to the streets of Boston acting basically as a vigilante, following orders, stopping minor crimes, and sometimes working alongside the police. They attracted the attention of The Viceroy, a semi-retired 56 year old hero who never registered in spite of it being compulsory legally. They both have the ability to copy the powers of others, though he can just by sight, and he has body elasticity too. These make him durable and extremely adaptable, add to that his detective skills and he’s something of a local Boston legend. He took them in as his Protégé. Though they remained distant for quite some time with Erato still coming and going between his place and Wright Industries, having promised not to reveal his assistance to the doctors who Erato reported their work to. It was this way for about a year and a half before the campaign started and Erato began living with Viceroy full time, no longer wanting to go back to Wright Industries as they began to think more independently and consider what they wanted for them self more. During this time Erato had chance encounters with each of the other characters a few times as they also did minor vigilante work, peaking with a villain who is a member of Superhuman, an extremist pro-metahuman group, attacked the school that Josephine, Les, and Amanda all attend. After that incident Erato was prompted by Viceroy to contact each of these other young potential heroes to form a team, The Upstarts. Additionally during this time Viceroy took in Enid who had been abandoned by her biological father and had been getting bounced around foster care. Over time the three of them have become kind of a weird family, living in a warehouse full of cats with a couple of bedrooms grafted on and an ultra secret basement lair underneath full of advanced stuff Viceroy makes. Though Erato and Enid have definitely had their ups and down, more recently in the story (and we’ve been doing this campaign for well over a year now) they’ve been putting in serious effort to better their relationship and be good adoptive siblings to one another. I love their relationship a lot, they’re good kids.

That gets us up to the start of the campaign but hoo boy, I’ve been writing for like, an hour now. Since then Erato’s helped take down a nazi-aligned terrorist organization, they’ve got a boyfriend in their teammate, Les, and they’ve made friends outside of their core group of teammates. They’ve also enrolled in school doing well on some classes and poorly in others, namely learning how to Code and Woodworking. Currently they’re at a sleep away summer camp for superpowered kids called Camp Justice, about 10 miles outside of Boston. They really, really hate it there. Constant supervision, being made to do tests, things scheduled out against their will, inability to leave the area? Yeah that certainly reminds them of something. The difference between it and school, which does share these features, is they wanted to go to school. They very much Did Not want to go to camp. As a result they’re finally going to have to start facing the trauma they’ve got from their origin and also actually tell the others other than Les and Amanda about their sisters. Whiiiiich...Enid saw one of them disassembled and showed off in parts at a school science fair display set up by Wright Industries to gauge interest in students. And she hasn’t mentioned this to Erato...for 4 months Uh Oh! Lastly, here’s my tag I use mostly for art I make of them, it includes some texts posts and picrew dumps too though, lol. Feel free to look!

[dogbearinggifts]

“Dad Sent Me to the Moon” vs. “Because Dad Made Me”

How Luther and Vanya Talk About Trauma, Part Ten

This is the final part of my series examining how Luther and Vanya address their own trauma, as well as the trauma of others. Here, I’ll share some thoughts I have after analyzing these two characters’ attitudes toward trauma, as well as some thoughts on fandom in general. If this is the first time you’re seeing it on your dash, you can catch up on previous installments here:

Part One  Part Two  Part Three  Part Four  Part Five Part Six  Part Seven  Part Eight  Part Nine 

Thank you to everyone who’s stuck with this series for so long. I know I haven’t responded to all of you personally because I’m lame, but trust me—your support and positive feedback has kept me going. 

*********

Final Thoughts

Trauma Mentions Come Down to Quality, Not Quantity

Luther and Vanya are even when it comes to trauma mentions—11 each for addressing their own trauma, and 5 each for the trauma of others. However, in the first five episodes, nearly all of Luther’s mentions of his time on the Moon or his forcible mutation come when prompted by others. His early mentions of the Moon are neutral or positive, and he outright tells Allison he is not ready to talk about his mutation. In the sixth and seventh episodes, his unprompted mentions of the Moon are constructive—that is, he is bringing up his time on the Moon not to talk about how difficult it was, but as a means of saying “Hey, I might have a solution to our apocalypse problem.” One mention of his time on the Moon is used to validate Five, and the last mention of his forcible mutation is used to empathize with Allison. Contrast that with Vanya’s mentions of her childhood exclusion, which are often unprompted, wholly negative, and sometimes used as a means to divert attention from the topic at hand. 

There’s also the question of how much each character values a chance to talk about their own trauma over solving the problem at hand. When Diego finds Luther in the bar, Diego distracts him from his anger about his Moon mission with news that Allison is in danger. When Allison tries to distract Vanya from her anger over being left out by offering to fill her in on what she’d missed, Vanya outright refuses and lashes out at Allison before storming off. Luther might allow his own disillusionment to make him briefly give up on saving the world or anyone in it, but he is willing to push his own hurt feelings aside to save someone else. Vanya prizes a chance to vent about her own trauma above all else—even a chance to be included in the family dynamic, even if that inclusion comes by proxy. 

When it comes to the trauma of others, Luther tends to validate his siblings’ trauma, rather than invalidate it. He listens to Allison talk about her awful parenting and the fallout; he validates Five’s time alone in the apocalypse. Vanya doesn’t invalidate her siblings’ trauma, either (unless you count her referring to their training and ongoing abuse as playing, but that could also be a result of her being kept at a distance from them). She does, however, turn Allison’s trauma into patronizing comments and low blows; and when Leonard references his abuse, she doesn’t ask for more information. She’ll bring up her own trauma or say “I know,” but she stops short of empathizing. 

In other words, if you still think Luther is the one who won’t shut up about his trauma and goes around acting like he had it worse than anyone, I’m going to raise an eyebrow at you. 

Luther is Quite Empathetic—Just Not Toward Vanya

We see it most clearly in the scene in the basement, where Diego, Allison and Klaus are arguing for Luther to let Vanya go and Luther refuses. Luther is often portrayed in fandom as lacking empathy, but it’s clear he doesn’t. His empathy is simply not focused on Vanya. Luther’s empathy in the basement scene is with the victim, but fandom believes the perpetrator is more deserving. 

That isn’t to say he shouldn’t have empathized with Vanya. I believe that if Luther had empathized with both victim and perpetrator in that moment, he could have landed on a solution that would have benefited everyone. Maybe they could have decided to send Five in, have him get Vanya’s side of the story, and blink out when that was done or if she decided to attack him, and explain the plan to her through notes. Maybe they could have asked her a series of yes or no questions using a notepad, then deliberated over the specifics of letting her out. There are a number of solutions, and while there’s no guarantee any of them would have kept Vanya from exacting revenge or becoming enraged over something else once she was free, my point is that Vanya’s imprisonment was not caused by a lack of empathy on Luther’s part. It was caused by an abundance of empathy for Allison and a dearth of it for Vanya, which led to a false win/lose situation. Empathizing with both of them could have helped him land as close to a win/win as was possible. 

Vanya Could Have Prevented the Apocalypse 

All she had to do was take a deep breath, count to three, and ask a few questions instead of flinging accusations around. Fandom too often treats her agency as nonexistent and her eventual rampage as entirely the fault of others, but her own hair-trigger temper prevents her from learning key information that likely would have led her to pursue reconciliation rather than revenge. A calm response on her part in nearly any argument with her siblings might have set her on a different course and prevented her eventual snapping. This is especially true of her argument with Allison, where a calm response would have prevented the action that Luther sees as reason to lock her up. Luther has received much hate for how he handled this situation, but Vanya could have prevented it entirely. 

Allison Doesn’t Get Half the Credit She Deserves

Allison’s overtures of friendship toward Vanya are too often treated as a mean-spirited swipe at Vanya’s taste in men or as Vanya’s due, rather than as Allison going above and beyond. Yes, her initial lecture to Vanya was rude and uncalled-for, but I think she more than made up for it by seeking her out, apologizing, and taking her out for drinks. Yes, she took part in excluding Vanya as a child, but once she sees evidence on the security tapes, she makes every effort to treat Vanya as a sister. And Vanya rewards this, and every other gesture of peace after, with verbal abuse and swipes at her divorce. Through it all, Allison never responds in kind, never stops trying to convince Vanya she is in danger, and never stops blaming herself for Vanya’s behavior. 

If a sibling treated me the way Vanya treats Allison, I wouldn’t take them breakfast and apologize for being such a rotten sister. I’d write them off as toxic and move on. If I thought they were in danger, I’d work to try and ensure their safety from a distance; but I would avoid interacting with them as much as possible. Had Allison chosen to end contact with Vanya after her “Worry about your own daughter” remark, I would have considered it more than justified. 

Yes, Allison’s positive treatment of Vanya was often wrapped up with her criticism of Leonard. However, Allison is one of the most famous people in the world, a fact Vanya explicitly acknowledges. Had Vanya considered that Allison’s worries over her new boyfriend might stem from past experiences with stalkers, she could have addressed Allison’s well-intentioned concerns in a more empathetic, more constructive way. 

Leonard is a Manipulator, Not a Puppetmaster

He never commands Vanya to do anything, unless you count the moment when he tries to break through her catatonia by urging her to say she’s special. His methods are far more subtle than that. In the coffee shop scene, for instance, when Allison becomes a topic of conversation, he looks somewhat hurt and says, “I don’t think your sister likes me very much.” He doesn’t tell her to stop talking to her sister; he doesn’t tell her she’s not to be trusted. Rather, he plants the seed that Allison’s actions are borne out of petty dislike, rather than legitimate concern, which gets Vanya thinking negatively about her sister. Leonard doesn’t tell Vanya what to think, but he does push her thinking in a direction that favors his agenda. He doesn’t tell her how to act, but he does reward actions that further his plan and punish actions that hinder it. 

Leonard did not make Vanya cause the apocalypse. She was not his puppet; he did not have her under his command. He simply got rid of her medication and then guided her actions and attitudes to a point where she would lash out at her siblings of her own volition. Vanya was certainly being manipulated, but she had a say in whether or not to act on the thoughts Leonard’s observations brought to the surface. Her choices were influenced by Leonard; they were at no point dictated by him, and she bears responsibility for the things she has done. 

Vanya’s Abuse was Different, Not Worse

Vanya believes she had it worse than anyone, and too often I see fandom agreeing with this assessment because she was the only one left out. It’s true that Vanya was the only sibling robbed of her powers, excluded from the family dynamic, and outright told her existence didn’t matter. But Luther was the only one forcibly mutated without his knowledge or consent; Diego was the only one verbally degraded to such a degree that he shows concern for his brothers through shouting and body-shaming; Allison was the only one taught to disregard boundaries to such an extent that her own personal and professional success came to depend upon it; Klaus was the only one locked in a tomb with his greatest fear; Five was the only one who had to raise himself in an apocalyptic wasteland; and Ben was the only one who died. 

All of them went through hell. Vanya did not suffer more than her siblings simply because her suffering took place in a different zip code. 

Vanya Has Had More Help than Luther Ever Knew He Needed, but Luther is Expected to Do More with Less

I know there are those who take umbrage with this view, but I’ve shared it before and I’ll share it again: Vanya has had ten years to come to terms with her childhood trauma. She’s been to therapy, and her therapist was competent and sympathetic enough for her to recommend Five see her*. For a time, she had sympathetic attendees at her book readings. She might be working three jobs to pay for her apartment and apparently modest lifestyle, but all three of them are related to the music she loves. Her work feeds directly into her interests, which is not something most millennials can say. She has built a good life for herself, and she’s done it without the interference of her father or siblings. Even with all of this to distance her from her trauma and allow her to move on, she acts as if it all happened yesterday. This is not emotionally healthy and leads Vanya to harm others, as the show demonstrates time and again. 

Luther, on the other hand, has had three days to come to terms with being sent to the Moon for no reason. He’s had years to process his forcible mutation, but as I’ve pointed out before, he had no one to talk through it with him. No therapist, no friends, no siblings—not even a kindly parental figure, as these parental figures consisted of the man who mutated him, a robot programmed to never disagree, and a chimp with Stockholm Syndrome. Luther was left to muddle through on his own. When it comes to his Moon mission, he’s fared no better: the three siblings who have tried to help him process it are all trying to work through their own traumas and not much more adept at it than Luther is. They all helped in their own way, yes—Allison gave him a distraction, Klaus waved his arms in the air and begged him not to do what he did, Diego reminded him that there were more important matters in need of his attention—but none of them were able to give him the sort of counseling he desperately needs. 

Yes, Luther harmed his sister as well. He’s not innocent in this. But fandom constantly excuses Vanya’s mistreatment of Allison and her other siblings by pointing to her childhood trauma, yet insists Luther be well-adjusted enough to pick up on Vanya’s emotional cues and respond to evidence he doesn’t know exists when, for all he knows, she just tried to murder her own sister and is there to finish the job.  I think it’s time we stop treating That Scene™ like the moment Luther becomes a monster and treat it as the tragic irony it is. 

Luther and Vanya Form an Interesting Phenomenon

I first got into fandoms when I was a young teen, around the same time the Lord of the Rings movie trilogy was released. I spent a lot of time on LotR fansites, getting involved in RPGs and browsing proto-memes—really just photo albums of screenshots from the movies with lists of user-submitted captions below. (I still remember a few of the most clever ones.) After that, it was onward to Star Wars, and Danny Phantom, and the MCU and Harry Potter. I have seen characters revered and reviled, watched two people analyze the same character and come to wildly different conclusions. I’ve seen Draco prance about in his leather pants and watched Ron become a Death Eater. 

In all my years as a fan, I have never seen anything quite like the way this fandom treats Luther and Vanya. 

I’ve seen decent characters made out to be lazy, abusive, or just plain evil. I’ve seen unlikable characters made out to be wisecracking antiheroes. But when fandom twists a character to suit their own interests, it is typically the character’s own flaws or virtues that are exaggerated or ignored. 

This fandom is quite taken with Vanya—so taken with her, in fact, that her virtues are not only exaggerated but added to. Her attempt at comforting Allison and her return to the Academy after her sister’s apparent death are widely circulated and celebrated, yes, but not as rare moments of courage and selflessness from a typically self-focused character. Instead, they are held up as emblematic of who Vanya is as a person, and even more positive qualities are heaped upon her. Allison’s persistent kindness, Klaus’ empathy, Five’s relentless loyalty to his family—these traits were never Vanya’s, but they are given to her regardless and fandom pretends they have always belonged to her. 

Her flaws are not brushed aside, though. In many instances where a character is lionized to the extent Vanya is, those flaws would simply disappear; however, in this case, they are given to Luther. Vanya is no longer the one who constantly complains about her trauma, the one who treats her siblings’ suffering as an annoyance, the one who refuses to take responsibility for choices with results she doesn’t like; in fandom, Luther is saddled with these qualities despite many of his actions directly contradicting this characterization. Luther has moments of selfishness and apathy, yes, but he is not a selfish or apathetic character. Likewise, Vanya has moments of selflessness and empathy, but she is neither selfless nor empathetic. Yet in fandom, Luther is self-centered and numb to the emotions of others, while Vanya is kind and caring toward those who treat her poorly. 

In other words, fandom is so intent upon seeing Vanya as the sweet, blameless victim and Luther as the amoral villain that fans have transformed these two into entirely different characters. 

Fandom’s Warped View Does Real Harm to Survivors 

Widespread Luther hate causes harm to survivors of similar abuse, yes. In reducing Luther to a villain screaming about the Moon who hurts Vanya because he’s just a terrible person, fans make it that much more difficult for survivors of the unique sort of abuse caused by parental favoritism to speak out about their struggles, and can even lead to them being bullied for something they cannot help. This is wrong and should not be tolerated. However, there’s something more sinister going on here. 

I’ve spoken before about the widespread belief that child abuse results in better children, that it’s a sort of purifying agent that keeps children from becoming spoiled. And I’ve spoken about how it pertains to the common view that Vanya’s abuse made her kind and empathetic. I stand by what I said before, but I’d like to add that when this warped view of Vanya is paired with an equally warped view of Luther, the toxic message of abuse as a positive becomes downright radioactive. 

When we pretend that Vanya’s unusually severe abuse made her the sweetest of the bunch, and that Luther’s abuse-free childhood made him a monster, we perpetuate the narrative that abuse is not only positive, but necessary to keep children good and kind. 

Vanya is not the best of her siblings. Luther is not the worst. This series has examined Vanya’s more selfish and harmful actions and some of Luther’s more selfless and helpful ones, but I do not see Vanya as a villain and Luther as a hero. I don’t see it the other way, either. They’re both people, who had horrific childhoods and carry the scars of their pasts differently, going about their lives as best they can. Vanya’s past trauma does not justify the way she treats her siblings, and Luther’s past trauma does not justify the way he treats his. Their backgrounds are an explanation for their behavior, not a justification for it. 

Luther and Vanya are both broken. Maybe the damage can be repaired and maybe it can’t, but this fandom tends to romanticize the damage in one case and ignore or demonize it in another. And if there’s one thing I hope people take from this series, it’s that they’ll start seeing the damage in both cases for what it is. 

********

*Not always the case with therapists. Speaking from experience here. I’ve seen two over the years, and they both left me in a worse place than before.  

[wafflewarriors]

The Not-So-French Mistake

Chapter 10: Seize the Moment… Literally

Sydney’s eyes flickered open, having been shut as images channeled across her vision. The voices within the memory hindered any means of hearing her surroundings, so when it abruptly unmuted, she flinched fiercely at the new stimulation.

“―ney? You okay? Woah, Sydney? Syd!” 

She grunted irritably as two calloused hands patted her cheeks. Her head had settled onto the unforgiving tile, where she woozily sat up, leaning against the wall as a brace. A phantom cramp lingered in her skull, throbbing when she opened her eyes. She’d never had a migraine before, yet she was certain this was comparable.  

Stressed, viridescent pupils hovered above her owlishly as Dean supported her by the shoulders, and she realized that her knees had given out. She huffed a weak laugh.

He blinked, utterly bewildered,  “What?”

“That’s… that’s the first time you’ve said my name. You always use nicknames.”

“No, I don’t,” he grunted, concentrating on her debilitated state. “Here.” He boosted her upward by the shoulders, straightening her spine and supporting the greater part of her weight as she regained her strength.

“Yes, you do,” she reasoned. “Like, pipsqueak, sweetcheeks, cupcake, sparky, tootsie, cheeseball, princess, sweetheart… even pug-face―”

“Okay, okay, Hot-shot. I get it.” He was too distracted to care.

“See!” she said, gesturing to express her triumph.

Dean countered it with a gentle nudge against her flailing hands, urging her to just relax. He was concerned, and she wanted to rave about the pet names he’d given her on the occasion. “Shut up,” he proposed, so she did, allowing him to fuss. He finally demanded, “Now what did I just watch?”

“I panicked when I saw the room, okay? That’s it.” It wasn’t a total lie, but she wasn’t going to yap about her problems. Not to Dean Winchester, even though he’d proven to be a very skilled psychiatrist during difficult cases. Some people just needed to work through their crap. However, she did not.

“Panicked?” he said, “You seized for a whole three minutes! I was the one panicking!”

She sobered her easygoing behavior at the chilling news. Crap, she reflected, I had a seizure? She knew it wasn’t her fault, but guilt pooled in her gut nonetheless. Dean must have went berserk.

Dean ran his fingers through his dark-blond hair, a slight tremble in the motion. “Let’s just get out of here, okay? I have the note. Let’s go. We don’t want this thing to crumble while we’re in it.” 

The dingy hotel room now beared two equally horrible memories. He was itching to burn the hotel until the basement was brimming with ashes, but the town had suffered enough heat, so just leaving altogether would be enough

There was a cumberous silence that weighed on her like a blanket woven into bulky, lead chains. Her tongue was anchored to her teeth, the words having died on her lips. Why was silence often linked with peace? Peace was hardly the word for the deafening chains that even darting thoughts could not break.

Her mind wandered, and after mentally pondering several scenarios, she built up the courage to ask what dug at her mind. She assumed this was a safe question. “What’s with the nicknames, anyway?” Her tone was delicate and hesitant as she spoke, afraid of a harsh yell in retort.

Dean sighed, realizing this wouldn’t drop until he addressed her. “It’s you. You… you and Sammy are like the exact same person, I swear. It’s why the nicknames just… roll into my conversations with you. And, when you get hurt… I just… Sammy calls it ‘big-brother-mode’, but that’s my form of a panic attack, I guess. I ain’t sniveling, but I get so…” A shiver forced its way to the surface, carrying a shudder with it, goosebumps rising along his forearms. He grew increasingly self-conscious over his response to her seizure. “Sorry, I know it’s weird. We literally met yesterday.”

“No… it’s…” she began, searching for the right word, “sweet.”

“Sweet?” he asked, skeptical, eyebrows climbing.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s sweet.” She nodded thoughtfully. “A hardened hunter panicking when family is hurt is… sweet, in your own way.” She blushed, moved by her own words. It was one thing watching a character on the screen and admitting his weakness was his strength, but doing so face to face was absolutely nerve wracking. “You know, the show depicts you as a bad-boy who uses sarcasm to avoid talking about his emotions, but I’m starting to see your soft side, too. You’re actually a teddy bear, aren’t you?”

A mischievous glimmer shone in his eyes at her comment. He gave an encouraging waggle of his eyebrows, successfully lightening the mood.

Sydney rolled her eyes. “It also implied you were immature, as well. Guess they were right about that.” 

He shrugged childishly, “Who would I be without it?” However, his genuine behavior drained away as he pondered his rhetorical question, and a solid, weighty truth settled on his shoulders as an answer: without his humor, Dean would be a broken man. A very, very broken man.

The new thought brought daylight onto the reality of the conversation, and the manipulation Sydney was actually driving here. Dean had begun the discussion straightforwardly centered upon Sydney’s spontaneous seizure, and she had still managed to punch his figurative, magic buttons into talking about himself.

“Kiddo?” he asked lightly, “You know, it’s alright to talk about yourself, here. You’re safe with me.”

Sydney paused, taken off-guard by the sudden granted permission. He’d bypassed her subtle guidance of a topic change and twisted it right back around―right where they had started. A situation such as this had never occured in… in her lifetime, really. She was lost with what to say.

For Sydney’s entire life, she saw self-reflection to be undesirable, so she deflected and redirected the theme of a conversation from herself and back onto the spectator neglectfully. For most, it was mindlessly accepted, a simple bait reliably taken. 

However, Dean was not of the vast majority. He consistently saw through her veil like it was translucent.. He saw because it’s all he could see. Dean recognized her act because he wore the mask himself daily. 

She frowned. “Dean, um… admittedly, my friend forced me to watch this show, but, uh… you’re like, one of my childhood heroes.” To describe this was like assembling a fresh puzzle; she wasn’t sure where to start. “Let me give you an example, let’s say there’s this really loyal Marvel fan that ends up meeting the real Batman. The real deal. While they would prefer meeting Ironman or Captain America, meeting Batman is still like meeting a celebrity, no matter how you see it. You’re Dean Winchester, and it doesn’t help that you’re wearing the celebrity actor’s face from my world. It’s like, double the famous.” She inhaled at the gravity of her life right now: having met Dean Winchester, the exact doppelganger of Jensen Ackles. “I don’t just go admitting my weaknesses to celebrities. It’s terrifying… so, just give me a moment to compose myself.”

Dean paused, dubious. “I’m comparable to Batman? C'mon, nuh uh.” He paused, considering it, “Seriously?”

She snorted. “Believe me, you’ve got a whole fandom in my world willing to sell their souls for you. You’re lucky my world doesn’t have the supernatural. Fourteen seasons and all- well, I’m technically in like, the eighth right here, I guess. I’m basing it roughly off of Sam’s haircut.”

Even though Dean was slightly amused that Sam’s hair could tell a fan what year it was, one comment especially jolted him. “Fourteen seasons? You mean we’re only about halfway there?” He sucked in a breath. “It gets worse doesn’t it?”

She hesitated. “Uh, yeah. Supernatural loves to build the suspense. So, yeah, let’s just say things get a lot crazier. I may not have obsessed over you, but I pay attention to my shows. You… you had it easy during the apocalypse.”

“Jesus,” he breathed.

She winced. “Not quite.”

Dean frowned, monitoring her expression. Suddenly his frown turned grave. “Don’t tell me. It’s God, isn’t it?” He said it bitterly.

“Actually, God’s sister… and then… yeah, uh, God does come into play.” She began to clam up, realizing she’d let a major plot slip. “Yeah… uh… just forget what I said,” she stammered, realizing the massive impact this could deal out. She doesn’t want his future doomed because she told him a chunk of his future.

A worryingly blank look washed over Dean’s face and then he’s chuckling proudly to himself. “Can’t believe I’m comparable to Batman. Oh, man, wait til’ I tell Sam.”

Sydney giggled, though a bit miffed by the sudden change of topic. “Yeah, add that to your ‘I killed Hitler’ list.”

“I kill Hitler?!” Dean lit up. “Sweet!” He paused contemplating over something, “Fandom, huh? You much of a Dean-girl?” He smirked devilishly.

Sydney considered it. “I guess I was more of a Castiel or Gabriel kind of girl. Definitely more of a Dean-girl than a Sam-girl, but…” She reddened, crimson dusting her ears. “Ew, wait. You guys are like, forty. Why am I even saying this?” Embarrassment fluttered in her chest like a cage of startled bats.

“No harm done, honey,” he drawled. He nodded, judging her preferences. His lips quirked. “…Gabriel?”

Her stance grew defensive, crossing her arms. “What can I say? He becomes an interesting character. I like to review my choices,” she said. “But… no. They’d be more like… family. Brother-sister relationship. I don’t know why. Just feels right.“

Silence threatened to swallow the light mood, signalling the end of the topic. Dean decided to transition back to the other tickle in his forethoughts. “So, tell me, what’s crazier than the apocalypse?” 

“You… what? We just…” said that… she trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. She froze, tilting her head.

“I just what?” He did that concerned eyebrow thing, his face scrunching up like some kind of protective bear.

She stared at him in horrified awe and stumbled back, legs trembling upon the crushing realization. She had done something to him. “I just… you…” she stammered. “I just told you to forget something and you did!” Fear, disgust, and absolute terror bubbled and threatened to overflow within her abdominal region. What was she? A freak?

 “Last time I wanted to be normal. This time I know I’m a freak.” ~Sam Winchester

A garbled cry left her lips as her head catapulted another hammering blow at the frail wall barricading locked memories. These weren’t her memories, though! She recognized them enough, but the perspective was in the eyes of a man. These spontaneous not-flashbacks were becoming alarming. What do these mean?! She cried within the barriers of her mind. What do you want from me?!

Calm yourself, kiddo, her mind supplied gently.

In her delirium, she was unsure if she was responding to her own thoughts, or if she was actually receiving answers. She began sobbing into the heels of her hands as a pain akin to having a nail jammed into the base of her skull splintered across the base of her forehead.

Dean was quick to react to her unplanned breakdown. Their conversation had went from lighthearted to massively distressing. “Hey, hey, hey! Kid? What’s up? Sydney?” Dean urged her to answer as she literally bawled into his shoulders, fists grabbing at his jacket in misery.

The pain dispersed, drawing back as if it’d been spooked by her reaction to its presence. The drilling agony blended into a distant ache, like the itch of an old scar. Suddenly, she could breathe again.

“What was with the waterworks, kid? What’s up with you?” Dean didn’t mean to be accusatory, but he was becoming antsy. His eyes were dark as he watched her, and he rubbed at his ears like there was water in them. Why would there be water in his ears?

She wheezed, “They're… I’ve been getting these… they’re memories.” She grimaced. “But they aren’t mine.”

He squinted at her, judgement clearly displayed along his face, though his eyes were hooded. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

She sucked a breath in, prying herself from Dean as if her joints were wooden. “I hoped it would stop.”

Dean sent her a pensive frown.

“Dean, when I was… experiencing that… I asked a question. Uh… in my head.” 

A wary eyebrow sprung toward his hairline, and Dean watched her suspiciously. “A question?”

She admitted, “Yeah… I… I asked what it wanted because it felt like someone. And I didn’t want just anyone inviting themselves into my mind like it’s a public bathroom or something. And it was like… not like I was possessed, but like…” she strained for the right word. “Like telepathy, Dean.”

He watched her patiently, searching for hidden expressions, but she was open and trusting.

She licked her lips, preparing to share her last bit of news. “And I… when I asked…”

“It answered.”

Tags:

@queen-bubble​ , @rosaren2498

[areasontobreathe]

Attacking the Messes, pt. 2

So, last time, I talked about what (I really hope) is everyone’s first step in decluttering and organization: Keep everything you have, just organize it neatly. I know I just gave a brief overview, and I’m trying to get some more in-depth ideas together as far as creative storage, so bear with me.  But, I cannot stress enough how I hope that one is everyone’s first step.  You honestly may not even realize you’ve taken it in the past, so if you try it again now and it doesn’t seem like you’re doing anything different, that’s okay.  It just means that one didn’t work, and you’re ready to move on to the next one:

Do you really need all of this?

To start off, this is a great method for closets, kitchens, people who are about to move into their first place, or when you just walk into a specific space and almost immediately feel a weight settle on you and want to turn right around and leave (sheds, attics, basements, etc).

There are a lot of different concepts around this one, as it has to be the most popular I’ve ever seen until Marie Kondo hit Netflix. “Swedish Death Cleaning” is the most common actual name I see for this, but I’ve also heard it referred to as “mock-moving”.  The basic principles behind it is going through all your ‘stuff’, and sorting into 2 categories:

I need this on a regular basis to live my life. This is the stuff you definitely keep.

I don’t need this regularly, and if I die/move across country on short notice:

Someone/I will throw it away

Someone will want it

Now, please keep in mind, these are the most basic principles.  There are fine-tuning questions around both of these. Let’s start with the first one: I need this on a regular basis to live my life. “Regular basis” doesn’t necessarily mean you need it daily. Instead, ask yourself the last time you used it or appreciated it.  If you can’t remember, it can either go in the second category, or you can hang on to it for a year, come back, and ask if you used it/appreciated it since the last time you decluttered.  If the answer is no, it should probably go into the second category.

Once you have your first category completed (I’m a firm believer in focusing on what you keep first), it’s time to start splitting up the second category. Ask yourself Is this something someone in my life would want/appreciate more? If so, call them up and ask if they want it. It can be something as simple as makeup you’ll never wear (my sister got nine from me), or on a larger scale it can be furniture that you really don’t have space for and need to rehome.

If no one you know will want it, would it be thrown away?  It’s hard to think about in terms of death, so I always frame it in terms of moving on short notice – If I had to move out of my house within a week, and move across country, would I just throw this out? The more you do this, the easier it becomes – and I apologize to anyone who does move frequently on short notice, because I’ve been there.  Moving 10 times in the same year sucked popsicles, but really sets your priorities on stuff. Usually, I end up with a ‘donate’ pile and a ‘trash’ pile.  

PSA: Please be super honest about what is trash. Stained, torn clothes, chipped knickknacks and plates, etc, are going to be throw away by places like Goodwill or the Salvation Army. This costs them more money than they will recoup from selling anything that they are able to keep out of your donations. Check everything over carefully, and if it isn’t good enough to give to your friends and family, don’t donate it.

This is the point where people usually start thinking “but I could sell it….” If you are actually going to have that yard sale, or take the time to list it online, by all means.  Personally, I lack the time and energy for a yard sale, so yeah, it’s donate or chuck it.

For anyone who feels they need to try this method, by all means, it can be very useful and enlightening as to how much stuff you actually have that you forgot you even owned.  I definitely advise going one area at a time on this one, because doing an entire house can be exhausting and frustrating.  However, I always want to advise of some pitfalls to this:

We all fall into the trap of “oh, I’ll use this more”, or “I can repurpose this”. That’s why I mentioned the 1-year waiting period earlier.  Some of us will actually use or repurpose it, some of us (me, I’m calling myself out here) are wishful thinkers.

This method requires absolute brutal honesty with yourself. Humans packbond, even to inanimate objects, and we get very sad when we find things that we forgot we owned and have carted to every residence we’ve ever had without looking at it in between.  We really want to keep it, we do!  This is literally where I always fall apart on this method, so if you do trip up, that’s okay.

You may need several attempts at this until you reach a point where you are satisfied. It can be very discouraging when we’ve been given the idea that just decluttering our space is the solution to all our problems.

Please remember, there is no shame in tripping up, giving up, or reverting back to clutter. I tried for fifteen years before I found something that works for me. My goal is that it doesn’t take anyone else that long, but there is no requirement for you to get this right the first time.

As always, inbox and asks are open, so please let me know what you would like to see on this blog, or ask any questions you may have around specifics!

[stancheslovez]

I Come Back To You Chapter 1 (Stanchez)

Chapter 1

A week had passed since the Pines twins had graduated high school, and Dipper had suggested to his Sister that they should move to Gravity Falls permanently. In all honestly Gravity Falls was a far better place than the town they lived in back in California, the air just seemed so much cleaner too. Not to mention, the area as far more interesting than living in a big city which was always so congested. Sure, summer trips to Gravity Falls were fun, but the idea of just being there permanently was a pleasant thought that he and his sister had been talking over with each other for a couple of years now. They both had some friends there, and Dipper just felt more at home there each summer they visited.

When the bus arrived, Dipper grabbed for his bags and looked to Mabel. “Ready?” He asked, getting excited about being back in Gravity Falls once again, it was always exciting to come back more so since they were moving here with their uncles. “You bet!” Mabel replied, happily grabbing her bags as she followed him onto the bus. They’d sold most of their stuff beforehand so they could buy their things once there, it would save on shipping, so they didn’t have to bring a whole bunch of boxes with them.

She was just as excited as her twin brother, especially to see her uncles again, maybe finally get a boyfriend this time around or something if that was even in the cards. Mabel wasn’t as boy crazy as she had been back then, but she still wanted someone to love her.

~~~~o~~~~

A minor tremble could be felt in Gravity Falls, the place waiting for the twins to return, the small quake causing the Bill statue to tremble just a little like the demon encased inside was slowly waking from his slumber.

~~~~o~~~~

Stan stood in the kitchen of the shack as his popcorn was currently finishing up in the microwave when it had finished, he took it out and opened it up. “Do you think the kids want rooms of their own?” He asked, looking to Ford as he headed back to the living room and sat beside him. The man’s twin hummed in thought as he looked at Stan.

“Maybe, but we’ll have to ask them once they get here.” He suggested; glad they had built onto the shack a few summers ago just so that there was room for when the twins wanted separate rooms of their own. He took some popcorn from the bag that Stan had popped, stopping a moment when he felt the slight tremor. “That felt like a tiny earthquake.” He hummed, wondering what had caused it, but then again it could have just been the tectonic plates or something.

“Did you leave the portal on?” Stan asked after a moment.

“Nope, I distinctly remember turning that thing off before leaving the room,” Ford said, thinking about it a bit before nodding in confirmation. “But it doesn’t hurt to double check.” He hummed as he got up, putting the code in the secret door before heading downstairs to take a quick look.

Stan gave a small snort as he left. “Nerd.” He said with a hint of fondness as he put some popcorn in his mouth and eating it before turning his attention to the TV, their relationship was better these days and Stan felt better than ever. Even if they didn’t reconnect romantically, he felt that was fine, at least his brother was here, and they got along again. Besides, he was far too old for love anyway, though sometimes his thoughts would turn to the blue-grey hair in his dreams which smelled like alcohol out of nowhere.

He pushed that thought away…that had been a long time ago.

Ford returned a couple of minutes later, closing the entrance before heading back to the couch and sitting down beside his brother. “It was off; I’m not sure what the tremor was.” He said, not too concerned with the cause, though he did wonder about it a bit before his thoughts turned elsewhere. “We should make dinner for the kids before they arrive.” He said as his eyes turned to the time on the clock.

“What do we want to make? It’ll be about four hours; I know this nice chili Verde recipe from when I was in prison back in Mexico which will take about that long.” Stan suggested.

The other hummed in thought and nodded. “Sure, sounds like it’ll be delicious.” He said before getting up and heading toward the kitchen; he got out the pan to cook with and the meat they would be using for the chili as Stan set the popcorn aside before joining him in the kitchen. “Do we have any tortillas?” He asked as he got to work on cutting up the veggies and other things for the sauce.

“Yup,” Ford replied as he went to grab the bag that he had put with the rest of the bread items.

“Great, wrap them in threes, then put them in some aluminum foil. We’ll back them toward the end enough to soften them up.” Stan said and spent the next few hours cooking with his brother which he had found fun.

~~~~o~~~~

Soon the sign for Gravity Falls came into view, and Mabel beamed when she saw it. “We’re here!” She said, grabbing her brother’s arm in excitement and Dipper smiled, getting up when the bus slowed at their stop. He grabbed his bags and put them over his shoulder. Let's head to the Mystery Shack.” He said as they got off and he started walking; his sister grinning as she took off after him happily.

Once they reached the shack Dipper headed inside and looked around the living room before venturing further inside the house. “Uncle Stan, Ford?” Dipper called before reaching the kitchen and smiling as the scent of food hit his nose. “Kids, you made it!” Stan beamed as he made his way over, wrapping his arms tightly around the two in a bear hug.

“Ah! Squishing me!” Mabel squeaked.

Dipper chuckled a little as he hugged Stan back, smiling. “Hey, Uncle Stan.” He said happily as Ford came over and took them both in a hug as well, though not as bone-crushing as his brother had done a moment earlier.

“We’re so glad to finally be here!” Mabel said excitedly.

“We’re glad to have you both back,” Ford said, smiling. “Now, I’m sure both of you are very hungry after your trip.” He said.

“Starved, whatever you guys made smells good,” Dipper said, feeling his stomach grumble as he took in the smell of the food that was being cooked.

“Some authentic Mexican food straight from prison.” Stan teased.

“I love Mexican!” Mabel said excitedly.

Dipper nodded and smiled. “Sounds good to me.” He said as Stan got the food and hotplates.

“We even made some Mabel juice, though not the super potent blend,” Stan told them as Dipper and Mabel sat down at the kitchen table with Ford. “Alright, sounds good,” Dipper replied as they were served their food.

Taking a bite of his food, Dipper looked to his uncles, wondering what all they had done on their adventures while they were away for the school year; he always enjoyed hearing what all they had done while he and his sister were away.

“We fought a giant squid and were still being attacked by baby ones. I haven’t had so much calamari in my life!” Stan said, and Ford chuckled softly as he went on about other things they had done during the year over dinner with Dipper and Mabel listening, captivated by all that had gone on.

Once their storytelling of their events from traveling was over Ford sat up and looked at them. “Will you two be sharing a room again or do you two want separate ones this time?” He asked after a moment, knowing they both were practically adults now, and sometimes siblings didn’t want to share rooms when they were older. “We can share if there’s no room, we don’t want you living in the basement again,” Mabel said.

“Nah, we built an extra room on just in case you two wanted to have your own rooms,” Stan assured her.

“Yeah, so, no harm is done there.” Ford smiled.

Dipper nodded at that and hummed in thought. “Then sure, we can do separate rooms. Coin flip to see who gets the new room, Mabel?” He asked, looking to his sister who just gave a smug look. “I already claimed it!” She stated.

“Do I sense another butt kissing contest?” Stan grinned.

“Maybe.” Dipper chuckled.

“This should be entertaining.” Ford sighed, smiling.

“Very.” Stan nodded as Mabel stood up suddenly, taking the dirty dishes from the table since everyone was practically done eating and everything. “I call dishes!” She said excitedly as she put them on the counter, taking her sweater off and around her waist before starting the water and waiting for it to heat up enough with the soap.

“I’ll clean the living room!” Dipper added before leaving the kitchen to go work on the living room, and Ford chuckled softly while his brother got up from the table. “I’ll go make a scoreboard.” He said, leaving the room, god he’d missed these kids and was so glad that adulthood hadn’t changed them all that much.

~~~~o~~~~

Taking a swig of the liquid in his flask, Rick tasked himself with a project he had been pointlessly working on while Morty was out with Summer doing something, what that something was he wasn’t quite sure, but he didn’t quite care. It was most likely that Morty was at school, and maybe Summer was picking him up? He couldn’t quite remember, but he knew she had graduated a couple years ago and didn’t go anymore.

His thoughts were interrupted when Morty came running into the open garage and trying to catch his breath, making Rick look up from his work. “Uh…R-Rick, I think we have a problem…” The boy said, twiddling his fingers a little as he bit his lip before speaking up once again. “A kid at my school summoned a demon today, and he was saying weird stuff...” He said causing Rick to set his project down.

Project forgot he stood up and rolled his eyes. “A demon? What the hell is it with kids these days? Summoning demons…” The old man couldn’t believe kids these days were so careless with things like the supernatural, it was ridiculous what people did, like summoning demons for whatever the hell reason they had. “Alright, what does this demon look like?” He asked, grumbling a little as he made his way over to a box and started sifting through it for stuff that might help in the situation, though he didn’t deal much in the supernatural. No, science was more his thing, and sure, he dealt with the supernatural every once in a while…but it just hadn’t been something he had worked to make sure he was prepared for thoroughly.

“Uh…you know the triangle thing on money? Just like that except, symmetrical…and suave?” Morty said, thinking. “He convinced half the kids to give him souls, and he didn’t even do anything.”

Rick scoffed at this and rolled his eyes. “Of all the…you don’t willingly give your soul to a demon no matter how smooth talking they are!” He groaned, making an ah-ha noise when he found a box of salt, handing it over to Morty before grabbing a few other things. “Alright, let's go and get rid of this thing.” He said before hopping into his space ship and took off when Morty got in the passenger seat.

“The demon said he finally made it to a universe that didn’t have a ‘Gravity Falls’ in it, do you know what that is?” Morty asked, looking to Rick who stopped a moment to think, god he hadn’t thought that place in years…thought about that fierce as nails brunette he spent a lot of the time making love to when they weren’t off doing some form of crime. The only person he felt anything for as much as he had Dian.

“Gravity falls? It’s a small town with a lot of supernatural activity…it’s in another dimension. This is going to take a lot more than just us two Morty. That demon is not going to be easy to get rid of.” He said as he drove his ship.

“Have you met him before?” Morty asked, looking a little afraid, if he and Rick couldn’t take this demon, then who could? His grandfather could practically take on anything and outsmart them or annoy the holy hell out of them till they wanted to just die or try revenge that just outright failed.

“Sounds like Bill Cipher…and if that’s the case, we’re in a shit tone of trouble,” Rick said as the ship approached the school, the place was on fire and looked far more different than he had last seen it, now reshaped into the form of a pyramid. “Oh fuck…” Rick said as he observed. “Yeah, that’s Bill, fucking Bill all over.” He may not have met the demon, but he had heard of him somewhere in his travels, the guy was known as a nightmare demon, and he had caused quite a lot of chaos.

His thoughts were interrupted when Morty spoke up. “So…what do we do?” He asked, wringing his hands nervously and Rick sighed as he sat back, watching the chaos unfold in front of them. “We’re taking a trip to Gravity Falls for one…where is your sister? She was here to pick you up right?” He asked.

“I think so, I ran to find you as soon as I sensed trouble…” Morty said, upset. “What if he eats Summer?” He asked, freaking out a little bit as Rick grabbed a blaster from behind his seat, handing it to Morty before grabbing another for himself. “Let's go.” He said, getting out of the ship and heading inside. The place was total chaos, weird eyeballs turning people to stone and carrying them away while random monsters partied. Bill was in the middle of the gymnasium looking around. “Man, this dimension is defenseless! I’m a genius!” He said happily.

“Okay, that’s not good…” Rick said and hit one of the creatures before it could get either him or Morty as they looked for Summer and his grandson was trying his best not to hyperventilate while he shot at the monsters with his grandfather. “Summer!” He called, hoping that his sister heard him.

As he called for her Summer poked her head out of one of the classrooms. “Morty!” She called, and Rick grabbed Morty’s arm, leading him over toward his granddaughter as he shot at a few of the creatures. “Let's get the hell out of here.” He said once he had her and started for the door.

“What about Bill? What’s he going to do?” Morty asked, afraid as another wall burst into flames, by the time they made it out they would see that the influence was spreading at a steady pace. “You two get in the car, I’ll see what I can do,” Rick said before leaving to head back inside.

Morty frowned and turned to Summer. “We can’t leave Rick alone; he said he couldn’t stop Bill on his own!” He said, and Summer bit her lip as she thought a moment before grabbing his arm. “Maybe he has some extra weapons in the car.” She said before dragging her brother out to the car so they could get some blasters so they could help.

~~~~o~~~~

Rick entered the room, blaster, in hand as he took in the sight of the gym turned throne room, glaring at the triangle as he spoke. “I don’t appreciate you trying to take over my dimension.” He said as he held his blaster up and shot it at him only for the demon to stop the blast with his hand. “And I don’t appreciate old people trying to stop me, either.” He said.

The triangle grabbed at Rick, bringing him closer before frowning as he caught a very faint scent on the elderly scientist before him. “you carry a faint smell…you’ve Been to Gravity Falls! Are you a dimension hopper?!” He asked in a demanding tone as he glared at the man before him.

“I am, and I haven’t been to Gravity Falls in years, but I’m aware of you. I don’t know why you’re here in this dimension, but I’m going to take you out of it.” He said as he started creating a circle and chanting; Rick wasn’t much on messing with demons or anything, and he probably wasn’t doing this right, but at least it could stop this guy from ruining everything.

Before much else could be done Bill roared and smashed Rick hard into the ground, preventing him from trying much else. “No you don’t, old man! I may have lost there, but I will not lose here!” He roared as Rick cursed, groaning as he got up shakily as he looked at the triangle with a slight smirk. “Ooh, I’m scared.” Rick taunted, rolling his eyes as he got back to chanting as he tried to stop the demon, but Morty and Summer had come back, trying to shoot at him once more causing the triangle to roar once more as he reached for Summer only to be shot in the eye by Morty which sent the demon spinning.

“You little fucker! Always the eye! That’s it, you’re dead, all dead!” He shot random bolts of energy at kids, missing mostly since he was unable to see but some grazed Morty’s shoulder, it burned more than anything he had felt before.

“Morty, Summer! Car, now!” Rick yelled, knowing they wouldn’t win this one; he was going to have to break down and head to Gravity Falls if they were going to take on this demon. He ran to the car, making sure Summer and Morty got in before getting in himself as his grandson held his shoulder, trying his best not to cry with how painful it felt.

As Rick drove off Summer looked at the burn on Morty’s shoulder to see how bad it was while their grandfather pulled up a portal for the car to go through. His injury was significant and discolored, but it wasn’t bleeding much thankfully, but it took the same of Cipher’s seal as the ship landed in front of a shack that was in the middle of the woods. “Grandpa, where are we?” She asked as her eyes fell on the building in front of them, it looked like one of those dumb tourist traps, though it didn’t seem like it had visitors these days.

“Gravity Falls, Oregon…and this is the Mystery Shack,” Rick said.

“The place Bill Mentioned?” Morty asked, shoulder throbbing a bit, though it felt better since it was doctored, getting out of the ship with Rick and Summer. “Yeah, this is it.” Rick sighed as he looked around.

~~~~o~~~~

Stan turned off the TV when he heard something and narrowed his eyes. “Ford, did you hear that?” He asked, and Ford frowned, getting up from his chair. “Sounded like a ship landing or something…” He said as he went to the door, looking to investigate as he checked outside the window. “We have visitors…and hey came in a space ship.” He said, a little confused since they looked human. He turned to see his brother slipping on his brass knuckles before heading out the door. It was then that Stan stopped in his tracks as he looked at the man before him, going slack-jawed as he looked at the man with the grey-blue hair as well as the scent of booze that followed the man like it always did. “R-Rick?!”

Rick looked to him and scratched his head, feeling a slight bit nervous at seeing the other man before him. “Stan, hey.” He said before noticing the other man coming out the door. “Looks like you got that portal working...”

[kayeissherlocked]

His Homecoming: Chapter 3

A/N: This one took a while character development is important to me as I want to make it right in my story. It’s out and ready for you to enjoy. Also, I apologize in advance my grammar is terrible I’m trying to correct it as I go. Bear with me, please!

Pairings: Bucky and Reader (Y/N) eventually

Warnings: This story will contain some amounts of violence, swearing, Fluff, SMUT (eventually), some moments of anxiety and PTSD.

Reminder: The timeline of this story will be in between Winter Soldier, Civil War, Black Panther, and Infinity War.

You woke up to bright lights and soft pop music to playing in the background. The pain you felt previously in you side and should were now gone. Sitting up you looked down and noticed you weren’t in your previous attire but in tribal clothing. Swing off of the table you looked out the window and saw that you were in a cave, and down the cave were trains of some sort, moving faster that the eye can see. Looking around you noticed you were in a lab of some sorts. This technology was beyond your expectations and understanding.

“Oh you’re awake.” A young woman spoken from behind you. Turning around you saw a youthful girl standing behind you. “We have been waiting for you to wake up.”

“Where am I?” You questioned

“Florida I think.” She replied. You approached her too quickly for her likeness, she pushed down on her bracelet as you neared her face.

“You listen to me now, I will not harm you but I am not to be meddled with. I am in danger and need to know where I am so I can get out of here. Now let me ask again where am I?” You rapidly fires at her in a panic tone.

“You are in Wakanda Miss.” A deep voice said from behind you. You’ve heard it before, slowing turning you saw the face of the man in the jungle.

“Wankanda?” You asked

“Yes.”

“Who are you?”

“I am Prince T’Challa and that is my sister Shuri.” He pointed to the young woman behind you. Meeting her eyes she gave you a small wave as you turned back to the Prince.

“How long was I out?”

“Two days. Shuri was the one to heal your wounds.” Two days! Two days was too long. The other Hydra agents could be looking for you. To make sure you are dead.

“Please Your Highness I must speak with the King.” You said in a panic

“I’m afraid I can’t.” He said sadly

“Why not?”

“We do not allow outsiders into Wakanda. I’m here to make sure your well enough for travel.”

“You don’t understand, I am in danger and I seek asylum.”

“Danger from who?”

“If you take me to your father I will explain everything. Please?”

“Come with me.” You followed him as he proceeded out of the lab. The two female guards flanked you just in case you decided to attack their Prince. You arrived at the top of the build where you saw a jet. T’Challa gestured you to board the plane, though hesitant you boarded the plane. Sitting across from him you heard him give his orders to his guards in his native tongue, Wakandan you believe.

After arriving at the palace you were in awe of the structure, the beauty of the country itself, and the advance technology that they possessed. How could a country known for farming have this technology? T’Challa cleared his throat and you again followed him to the palace with more of the Royal Guard following behind you. Nervousness set in as you approached the hall, you’ve never met a King before. The doors opened and there was His Royal Highness King T’Chaka and his beautiful wife Queen Ramonda.

She looked shocked to see that T’Challa brought you here that she began to scold him in Wakandan. The banter between them continued until her husband stopped her. They turned back to you at which you quickly bowed before them.

“Let her speak my love. Hear what she has to say.” His raspy voice said. Now you knew where T’Challa got it from. “Now child my son says you are in danger and want asylum.”

“Yes Your Majesty I am.”

“We don’t allow outsiders into Wakanda. This is our way of living to avoid outside interference.”

“If I may Your Majesty, the world doesn’t know that I exist. My own sister doesn’t know I exist. The only people that know of my existence is Hydra.”

“Who is this Hydra?” Queen Romanda asked

“Hydra is a deadly organization that wants to dominate the world. It first started in World War 2 with the advanced weapons that the Germans used in the war. There was a weapon called the Tesseract that could vaporize anything in its path and create doorways into space. Once the Tesseract was lost at sea thanks to Captain America they went in another direction. They started creating deadly assassins.”

“That’s absurd.” said King T’Chaka

“Forgive me but Hydra created one of the deadliest assassin’s ever The Winter Soldier. They want an army of assassin’s from born and breed. I was chosen for their breeding program since they took me from my home. Hydra wanted the world to burnand I was sent here to meet with a man named Ulysses Klaue for an unknown purpose. Possibly to help in that cause.”

“For the vibrianium?”

They looked at each other and started debating again. Your anxiety was increasing but as an outsider you did not want to interrupt them. Shuri T’Challa’s sister walked in nonchalantly doing the interrupting for me.

“She right about the breeding program and meeting Klaue They wanted to make a weapon pit some sort of weapon out of it. We found her files at the plane wreckage.”

Shuri handed the folder to T’Challa, who handed it over to their father, who read over the notes. How my files were on the plane I don’t know but it was probably meant to be destroyed once I was killed. “Why not let her stay at the border Baba. That way she’s out of sight with the people but we can keep an eye on her. She needs our help Baba. She’s smart I can use her assistance in the lab when needed. When she’s in the palace we can keep her face hidden behind a mask, say she’s horribly disfigured.” Shuri interjected.

As they continued to debate Shuri gave you a smile which you returned, thankful that she was on your side. As the discussion came to a close the looks of the King and Queen were unreadable but it was King T’Chaka that spoke first.

“Shuri she is in your charge. Any trouble she gives...” he said.

“Baba I brought her here she will be my responsibility.” T’Challa chimed in.

“Very well. And you.” He pointed in your direction “You are to stay here in Wakanda until we deem it necessary that you leave. You will only help Shuri if necessary. Understand?” T’Chaka asked you.

“Yes you Majesty. Thank you.” You replied

“Take her to the border. Make sure she is dressed appropriately we don’t want to rouse suspicion among the people.” He commanded dismissing you all.

“Thank you Your Majesty.” Following T’Challa and Shuri out of the room, there was a guard with tribal garb ready for you to wear. Shuri rushed you to a nearby room to change. After you were dressed appropriately they took you to the jet. Looking at the country side you didn’t mind that you had to stay in Wakanda forever and you were able to start over. You felt peace after so many years.

Two years later and your bond with T’Challa and Shuri grew every day. You learned so much from Shuri and about Vibrianium even T’Chaka allowed you to help design throwing disc for the Dora Milaje. You found out their name Shuri had called you up to the lab. Two years and your past was never questioned even when you heard about the events is Sokovia but that was all about to change after Vienna.

TAGS:

@papi-chulo-bucky @gummiibunnii @iheartsebastianstan @sebastianstanrocks @imnotcoolmasterrr @rogue-barnes-16--main-account @marydragneell @theonelittleone @mizzezm @orowit @callmedaddys-blog @crazy-basement-collector

[susandwrites]

Fallen Through Time - Chapter Seven

Read on AO3.

Sherlock extended a confident hand and waved down his first Victorian cab. As John climbed in, he said to the driver, “Bart’s Hospital, please.” The man nodded and Sherlock slid into the back of the carriage, settling in beside John.

“I have a friend who works in the morgue who should be able to sneak us a peek at the murder victim,” John said, unbuttoning his jacket and making himself comfortable. “Perhaps we’ll be able to suss something out without traveling through time or giving chase to a stalker in the forest.”

Sherlock huffed a little laugh. “It would be helpful to finally have uninterrupted access to the body,” Sherlock mused. He ran his hands over the fabric of his new suit, admiring the handsome plaid pattern, and it occurred to him that John had made rather a large sacrifice in paying to clothe Sherlock. He had deduced when he first met John that he was living above his means simply for the sake of living in London and not begging to his family, and now he had gone and spent what much surely be a large sum of money on a man he had only just met. And kissed. Rather spectacularly. Sherlock felt his cheeks flush; John had done him a favour, apparently out of the goodness of his heart.

“John,” he said, keeping his face as smooth as possible, “I’d like to thank you for the suit. Sincerely. It was… quite generous of you.”

John looked almost taken aback. He blinked a little confusedly and uttered, “Oh — ah, of course. Think nothing of it.” He offered Sherlock an awkward little smile and turned his face back to the window. Doesn’t like to talk about money. Noted. Is that why he won’t go to his family? Oh, no. His family is why he doesn’t like to talk about money. Unsure of the next “appropriate” thing to say, Sherlock decided to leave it be. He had done what was socially required when a person does one a favour and, surprisingly, he had meant it. Sherlock continued to fiddle with his jacket until he felt something in his pocket. His eyebrows furrowed, Sherlock extracted a small slip of cardstock. It was printed with a delicate image of a bouquet of roses and read, “Miss Janine Hawkins, 43 George Street.”

“What on Earth?” Sherlock mumbled and John turned to see what he was on about. Sherlock turned the card for John to see and was surprised when John’s face split into a wide grin. “What?”

“It seems Miss Hawkins would like to see more of you, Mister Holmes,” he teased with a bright laugh. At Sherlock’s continued confusion, he explained, “It’s her calling card ‒ so you know where to find her. Surely people do something similar in your own time?”

“My understanding is that when young people are interested in coitus they send small pictures of aubergines and peaches via their mobile phones to the object of their affection.” Now it was John’s turn to be confused.

“Whatever for?”

“I believe it is due to their vague resemblance to human genitalia.” John’s eyebrows flew nearly to his hairline and Sherlock chuckled.

“Dear God,” he muttered, utterly scandalised.

“I know. Vulgar, isn’t it?”

“Rather.” They made eye contact and were soon enveloped in a fit of giggles that lasted until the cab pulled to a stop in front of St. Bart’s Hospital.

The morgue was located exactly where Sherlock remembered it — in the basement — and that small similarity gave him a tiny feeling of reassurance. This was a case, like any other, and he had to go about the Work with the same diligence and fervour with which he treated every case.

John led the way into the morgue, Sherlock following close behind. There were several bodies laid out on work tables, all covered over with heavy linen, and a quick survey told Sherlock that they were, surprisingly, all female.

“Miss Hooper. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us,” John was saying cordially, and Sherlock’s attention was drawn to a living woman at the back of the room. She turned and offered John a mousey little smile, taking his hand in a polite shake. Her hair was pinned up in a simple, slightly-askew bun and her clothes were plain. Simple. Practical, Sherlock corrected. Durable fabric, no excessive frills, well cared-for but clearly worn regularly ‒ not a large wardrobe, then. Single, lives with a relative ‒ likely an aunt or some such ‒ late twenties, works with her hands.

“You must be quick, Doctor Watson,” Miss Hooper replied in a thin voice. “I’m really not supposed to let you down here while I’m working.”

“Working?” Sherlock inquired with a tilt of his head. “You work with the bodies?”

“Yes,” Miss Hooper replied, slightly surprised by the question. “I’m the undertaker here for women and children. And you are…?”

“Oh! Apologies,” John interjected, “Miss Margaret Hooper, this is my new friend, Mister Sherlock Holmes. He’s a detective, helping me to investigate this murder.” Sherlock gave John a slightly-indignant look at being referred to as someone else’s helper, but he let it slide. He was, after all, the stranger in the strange land. Sherlock offered Miss Hooper a handshake and she took it.

“I didn’t expect a female undertaker,” Sherlock explained, but that earned him a surprisingly-hard expression from Miss Hooper. Her mouth formed a thin line and her eyes narrowed, clearly having heard this sentiment before.

“It’s more common than you might think,” she said, almost accusatory. “Bart’s has a policy against men embalming females and children for the sake of decency. It seems that even dead women are not free from the societal pressures of modesty.”

Sherlock was a little taken aback ‒ he had only suspected that, due to the time period, women would not be allowed to do what was often considered “man’s work”. Certainly, he didn’t think one’s gender had any bearing on their competency. Societal constructs of gender and sex were completely arbitrary, besides. Suddenly, it occured to Sherlock that he had not voiced any of these thoughts and had been staring uncomfortably at Miss Hooper for nearly thirty awkward seconds. “That’s not ‒ I didn’t mean…” he stuttered quickly, but John stepped in.

“I’m sure Mister Holmes is merely surprised,” he supplied helpfully. “He’s never worked with an undertaker before ‒ you must forgive his ignorance, Miss Hooper.” Ignorance? Sherlock had never been accused of ignorance before in his life. Well, except by Mycroft, but he was a cock. John raised a warning eyebrow at Sherlock  and he decided to take the path of least resistance.

“Apologies if I offended you, Miss Hooper. I am grateful for your assistance.” He nearly pulled a muscle from trying to maintain an expression of plausible contrition. But it appeared that Miss Hooper was mollified.

“I’ve heard it often enough,” she said with a sigh. With little fanfare, Miss Hooper approached one of the slabs and whipped the sheet from the body atop the wooden surface. “Mrs. Edith Herraldson, formerly of Swindon, in town visiting her sister who identified her earlier this morning. Thirty-four years of age, stabbed on the left-hand side with a non-serrated blade which punctured her liver and lung.”

“A bit of an expert maneuver, wouldn’t you say?” Sherlock asked casually, bending to take a closer look at the wound in question. “To miss the ribs and not make a mess of the whole affair?”

“I’d say so,” Miss Hopper concurred.

“Are these bruises on her chin?” John was bent over Mrs. Herraldson’s face, his eyebrows furrowed and his fingers gently tilting her head left and right. “Here ‒ along her right jaw.”

Sherlock stepped closer and examined her face from John’s point-of-view. He was correct. “The killer must have gripped her ‘round the mouth as he stabbed her.”

“He?” John asked.

“Most likely, given the spacing of the bruises and the strength required for this kind of stabbing.” Sherlock righted himself and looked down at John, his open face a touchstone for steady thought.

“So he ‒ what? ‒ sat on the bench beside her and held her by the jaw?” One of John’s eyebrows lowered in contemplation. “Why wouldn’t she have moved away? Been afraid or offended?”

“I expect he was making a pass at her.” Sherlock looked quickly around the room before grabbing two chairs and plopping them down side by side. He pointed to one and John sat down before Sherlock took up the other seat. “He joins her on the bench, at a respectable distance, they start chatting and he slowly sidles closer.” Sherlock demonstrated and John turned to look at him with an expression that was somewhere between bemusement and amusement. Dropping his left arm onto the back of John’s chair, Sherlock leaned over him a little as he continued to speak. “He’s making her feel comfortable ‒ flattered, even. She’s not paying attention to his hands.” Sherlock dropped his gaze a little, glancing down at John’s mouth before meeting his eyes again. There was heat in John’s blue irises that hadn't been there a moment before. “It’s the perfect moment to strike.” Sherlock quickly wrapped his left hand around John’s jaw, covering his mouth, and jabbed John in the side with his right index finger. John jumped at the attack and Sherlock smirked. A little huff of embarrassed laughter escaped John’s nose and he practically rolled his eyes as Sherlock stood from their makeshift bench.

“You git,” he said, but there was no real annoyance behind the word.

“I’ve heard it often enough.” Sherlock grinned and offered Miss Hooper a playful little wink. Finally, she smiled at him and shook her head. It occured to Sherlock that in his own time, working with people was an unfortunate evil. He would never have felt inclined to make peace with someone whom he had offended ‒ or even realise that he had offended someone in the first place. But John was introducing him to people, practically insisting that he engage in polite conversation, and for some reason, Sherlock felt inclined to comply. It had been easier, for certain, to deal with people after being nice, if a little more time-consuming. But perhaps, in the long run, it would prove beneficial for people to feel engendered towards him. John truly was proving himself to be an asset to Sherlock’s very existence in this time.

“Well, if the two of you have gotten everything you need,” Miss Hopper said as John replaced the chairs to their proper stations, “Professor Moriarty will be down shortly to make his own notes and I’d rather not be caught letting unauthorised persons in the morgue.”

“Certainly, Miss Hooper,” John said, waving his hat politely before donning it.

“Thank you again.” Sherlock nodded with a small smile, which Miss Hopper returned, and he and John took their leave.

‒‒

“I don’t know what it is you want me to say, Mister Holmes. I know as much as you do.”

“Well, I doubt that very much.” Mycroft sat back in his chair and tapped the capped end of his Montblanc pen impatiently against the surface of his desk. He stared across at Detective Inspector Lestrade with a shrewd expression. “But when it comes to Sherlock Holmes, there are certain details of his everyday life which he still manages to keep from my sight.”

“What makes you think I know anything?” Lestrade demanded, equally impatient but unable to remain as infuriatingly calm as Mycroft. “I need him on this case ‒ a body turns up on Parliament Hill in what Sherlock assures me are authentic Victorian clothes, he goes running off into the woods, we all turn our backs for one second, and next thing he and the body are missing. What am I s’posed to do with that, eh? If I knew where he was, don’t you think I’d be after him myself?”

“I think you know where he is because, loathe though I am to admit it, you do probably know him best.”

“I’ve known him for five years and no I don’t.” Lestrade crossed his arms and flopped back in his own chair, far less comfortable than the one in which Mycroft reclined.

“You’ve been his arresting officer on no fewer than eleven occasions. I believe that gives me reason to suspect that you may have an inkling as to his whereabouts. His most-frequented bolt-holes, the people with whom he usually associated when he… relapses.”

“You’re the one with all this power ‒ you can’t track him or anything?”

“Power?” Mycroft scoffed. “What makes you think I have any power whatsoever?”

“Well, I’ve been sequestered in this office for more than twelve hours, brought here by spooks in an unmarked towncar. And, as you say, I’ve arrested Sherlock at least eleven times and the last time I checked, he doesn’t have so much as a parking ticket on his record. I know I  didn’t pardon him.” Lestrade lifted an eyebrow and gave Mycroft a look that could only be described as sassy. “Now, I will do anything I can to find Sherlock because he’s my friend, it’s my job, and I need his help. But I can’t do anything while I’m trapped in this bloody office.”

Mycroft took a deep breath through his nose and considered the detective before him. “This conversation never happened.”

“I’m sure it didn't.” Lestrade stood from his chair, grabbed up his jacket, and marched through the door.

[randomrichards]

THE BEST MOVIE MOMENTS OF 2018:

HONORABLE MENTION:

The Opening/Closing Credits from BUDDIES

I’m putting this as honorable mention because this is an older movie recently rereleased.

The first film about the AIDS Crisis, Buddies strikes at the heart with its opening credits with a typed list of AIDS victim up to 1985. Set to a mournful score by Jeffrey Olmstead, the never ending list of lives cut short puts you in tears.

Alex Honnold faces Boulder Problem in FREE SOLO

Most thrillers can only wish they could be as gripping as in the moment when Alex Honnold maneuver’s his way through the most challenging section of El Capitan Wall without rope in this Documentary.

Ray Offers Wisdom from Mid90s

“If you looked in anybody else’s closet, you wouldn’t trade your shit for their shit.”

Ray (Na-kel Smith) and his friends may not be the best role models for the impressionable Stevie (Sunny Suljic), but in this moment, Ray teaches him a lesson in perspective.

Glenn Close’s performance in THE WIFE

I’m not referring to any moment. Just Glenn Close’s acting. She speaks more volumes with her face than most actresses could with dialogue.

10)        The Beach Scene from ROMA

Cleo (Yalitza Aparicio) is an extraordinary woman. Sure, her life hanging towels and cleaning dog poo doesn’t seem like anything special. But like many lower working-class people, she endures. Boy does she endure a lot of shit in this movie. Not only does her deadbeat boyfriend ditch her to practice martial arts, but her baby is born dead. Despite all this, she not only continues her work, but she shares a close bond with the family. She showcases this bond and her strength when a fun day at the beach goes horribly wrong.

When Paco (Carlos Peralta) and Sofi (Daniela Demesa) swim too far out, Cleo walks into the ocean to save them despite not knowing how to swim. We watch in dread as she faces severe waves to find the kids, the camera always close to her.

This scene also contains a beautiful scene of the family hugging Cleo when she tears up over losing her baby. Seeing them all huddled together in front of a bright white sun captures the heart.

9)         “A Place Called Slaughter Race” from RALPH BREAKS THE INTERNET

Admit it, it’s fun to take pot shots at Disney Tropes. Hell, even Disney gets in on the fun. And boy do they seize on every moment to mock Princess tropes when Vanellope Von Shweetz (voiced by Sarah Silverman) encounters the Disney Princesses. Of course, it helps that Director Rich Moore and Head of Story Jim Reardon creates some of the best episodes of the Simpsons. Though there are many hilarious moments[1], none can hold the candle to Vanellope’s “I Want” song.

As she reflects over a puddle, Vanellope sings about her longing to be in the gritty game “Slaughter Race.” Seeing this little girl perform this lighthearted musical number over a background of riots and dumpster fires is comedy gold. Nearly every element of this number elevates the comedy, from singing shark (with cats and dogs in its mouth) to the creative lyrics (“Am I a baby pigeon spreading wings to soar?/ Is that a metaphor?/Hey, there’s a dollar store”). And the number still finds time to emphasize Vanellope’s fear of hurting Ralph (John. C Reilly).

Kudos to Alan Menken for mocking the trope he (and the late Howard Ashman) introduced to Disney. Just as deserving of Kudos is Silverman, who faced to task of singing in Vanellope’s high pitched voice.

8)         Charlie Loses Her Head from HEREDITARY

With her unusual hobbies, connection to her late grandmother and that clicking sound, you’d assume Annie’s (Toni Collette) daughter Charlie (Milly Shapiro) would be the centre of the whole film.[2] Boy, were we in for a surprise.

Spoilers!

When Charlie suffers a peanut allergy reaction, Peter (Alex Wolfe) races her home. On his drive, he sees a mysterious figure in the middle of the dark road. In his attempt to dodge it, he doesn’t see Charlie hanging out the window. Seeing her head slam right into a pole leaves us as traumatized as Peter is. To see them kill off a main character so early in the film is downright shocking. With this death, predictability goes right out the window and we are left uncertain of what direction this film will go.

7)         Neil Armstrong Soars in the X-15 Rocket Plane in FIRST MAN

It’s funny how the most exciting scene in this film isn’t the moon landing. Don’t get me wrong, the scene’s still breathtaking in its realism, but it’s surprising how thrilling the opening scene.

Damien Chazelle hits the ground running with Neil Armstrong (Ryan Gosling) soaring the atmosphere in an X-15 Rocket Plane. He soars higher and higher into the skies until he flies out of earth’s surface and gets stuck in space

Albeit, you know he will be back on earth in time for the moon landing. And yet, I found myself on the edge of my seat, wondering how he’s going to get back to earth. Most of it is thanks to the visual effects, which contains some of the most believable since 2001: A Space Odyssey. The effects leave CGI in the dust with practical effects that look so real, you’d think Gosling was actually flying into space.

6)         The Ferris Wheel Scene from LOVE, SIMON

High School Movies are home to many unforgettable romantic scenes. There’s Samantha (Molly Ringwald) and Jake (Michael Schoeffling) standing over a birthday cake in Sixteen Candles. There’s Patrick (Heath Ledger) singing to Katarina (Julia Stiles) on the bleachers in 10 Things I hate About You. And who can forget Lloyd Dobler (John Cusack) blaring Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” outside Diane Court’s (Ione Skye) in Say Anything. Be ready to include the closing scene of Simon (Nick Robinson) waiting on the Ferris wheel for online pen pal Blue from Love, Simon.

After being outed by a student, infuriating his friends for deceiving them in his attempt to stay closeted and abandoned by Blue, Simon makes a plea to meet with Blue face to face on the Ferris Wheel at a carnival. As he rides on the Ferris Wheel, he, fellow classmates and the audience wait in anticipation for Simon’s happy ending.

5)         The Book Heist from AMERICAN ANIMALS

When Spencer Reinhard (Barry Keoghan) and Warren Lipka (Evan Peters) plotted to steal extremely valuable books from the Transylvania University library in Kentucky, they thought they had the perfect heist. With the help of their friends Erick Borsuk (Jared Abrahamson) and Chas Allen (Blake Jenner), they thought they pull off a heist as smooth as Oceans 11.[3]

But reality hits them like a sledge hammer when they try to pull off the heist. Unlike their dreams, Librarian Betty Jean Gooch (Ann Dowd) doesn’t get knocked out with one taser jolt. It also isn’t easy to lug a six-foot book down a flight of stairs. Then there’s the fact the basement has no exit. That’s just a few of many problems they never consider. From then on, we witness them pay a huge price for their hubris and lack of real-world understanding.

Only youths as smart as they are to come up with such a stupid plan.

4)         The Mutant Bear from ANNIHILATION

Biologist Lena (Natalie Portman) and her team find themselves in a quite a bind. After entering the Shimmer, physicist Josie Radek (Tessa Thompson) has barely survived an attack from a mutant alligator and Anthropologist Cassie Sheppard (Tuva Novotny) has been attacked by a bear. Now paramedic Anya Thorensen (Gina Rodriguez) has gone mad and has tied up Lena, Radek and Dr. Ventress (Jennifer Jason Leigh). But when they hear Sheppard’s cries for help, they will soon find Anya is the least of their worries.

Their journey delivers many grotesque, nightmare inducing visuals (especially the slithering intestines.) But the most memorable moment in this film was the image of the helpless crew trapped in a cabin with a mutant bear. Bears are scary enough on their own, but a faceless one is pants spitting meeting. And then you hear it imitate Sheppard’s screams and suddenly you need a new pair of pants.

3)         The Great Snap from AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR

The whole Marvel Cinematic Universe had been leading up to this moment. The fact that nearly every character had a moment to shine in this one movie demonstrates the astounding direction of the Russo Brothers. But despite all the epic fight scenes, everyone agrees that this film’s greatest scene is the heroes moment of defeat.

Despite every effort made to stop in, despite outnumbering Thanos and despite Scarlet Witch (Elizabeth Olsen) sacrificing Vision (Paul Bettany) to destroy the mind stone, Thanos still got all the infinity stones. And with a single snap, Thanos succeeds in wiping out half the universe’s population. One by one, we watch many of our heroes vanish into dust while others watch in helpless horror. But none are more heartbreaking that the moment when Spider-Man (Tom Holland) falls into Tony Stark’s (Robert Downey Jr.) arms, crying “I don’t want to go.” All because some characters couldn’t make the sacrifice needed

Yes, we knew he was going to succeed in the end.[4] And yes, you know most of the heroes won’t stay gone.[5] And yes, their return will likely involve the surviving heroes sacrificing themselves.[6] But the ending still feels powerful despite this knowledge.

It all concludes with Thanos sitting near a cottage, content in his triumph. If the MCU ended here, it would have been a perfect ending. But I’m still curious to see how this will go.

2)         The Closing Close-Up in CAPERNAUM

The closing image of Zain’s (Zain Al Rafeea) face will haunt you beyond the closing credits. Throughout the film, we’ve seen this kid struggle through hell on the streets of Lebanon, trying to protect his sister from their resentful parents and helping an Ethiopian Migrant Worker take care of her son. But when he’s sent to prison for assaulting a pimp who bought his sister, he decides to sue his parents for the crime of bringing him into this miserable world. Writer/director Nadine Labaki never looks away for a second to the brutality of Zain’s world and how it brings out the worst in Zain.

When the film freezes to the image of Zain smiling for a Passport photo, your heart breaks for him as Khaled Mouzanar’s haunting score plays out.

1)         Tish and Fonny’s Walk Through the Park in IF BEALE STREET COULD TALK

No other opening scene has done a better job of putting its audience under its spell than when loving couple Tish (Kiki Layne) and Alfonzo “Fonny” Hunt (Stephan James) stroll through a park holding hands.

There’s beauty in every element of this scene, from Nicholas Britell’s romantic score to the warm looks in the character’s eyes. But what really sells it is James Laxton’s lush cinematography. The colours pop through the yellows and blues on the couple’s clothes and the green of the grass. You are as in love with this couple as they are for each other.

Then the film cuts to Tish visiting Fonny in prison, this time the yellow is the prison, the blue is Fonny’s jumpsuit and the green is on Tish’ outfit. From then one, we know why their love is worth fighting for.

[1] Mostly at the expense of Ariel (Jodi Benson)

[2] Especially when she appears so prominently in the advertisements.

[3] As indicated by a fantasy sequence.

[4] Since we know this was going to be a two parter.

[5] Especially when there are already planned sequels to Black Panther, Spider-Man and Guardians of the Galaxy. After all the money Marvel’s got from Black Panther? They’re not going to give up that meal ticket.

[6] What with Robert Downey Jr. and Chris Evans retiring their characters.

[awholeotherlevel]

The Doorkeepers- Chapter 3

By Camille Scott

Janet searched for something to say, to break the tension in the air between them.  Desperate to change the subject, she seized upon the first thing she saw.

“Hey, there’s a dog outside.  It’s looking right at me.”

“Yeah so what?  It’s probably just a stray.”

The words were scarcely out of her mouth, before the dog bared its teeth and began barking.  Another dog leapt out of the tall weeds and launched itself at the door, striking it with a thud that echoed in the cavernous warehouse.  Janet was staring at the door in stunned silence, when Andrea seized her hand and pulled her towards the basement.

They stumbled down the chipped concrete stairs as footsteps sounded on the floor above their heads.  In the dark recesses of the basement, Janet could make out the shadowy hulking masses of manufacturing machinery.  Andrea pulled her down on her knees, beside a massive piece of equipment.

Janet followed her sister’s lead and slid on her belly beneath the machine.  Andrea ran a sweaty hand along the bottom, until she found what she was looking for.  Janet wondered fleetingly, if her sister had been to the warehouse before.  One yank and the door opened.  Andrea slithered through the opening and pulled her sister along behind her.  Andrea noiselessly closed the trapdoor.  They clung to one another and waited.

Dust tickled Janet’s nose.  She fought the urge to sneeze. The dogs were coming close.  She could hear the dogs’ claws clicking on the concreter floor.  Andrea and Janet held each other tightly, in the filthy crawl space, listening to what sounded to their frightened ears like an army of men shouting to be heard over the incessant barking of the excited dogs.

The men’s booted footsteps pounded the floor, as they rushed around searching for the sisters.  One of the dogs snuffed around the base of their hiding place and began barking.  Janet caught and held her breath, her eyes wide with fear. They anticipated the awful moment, when the trapdoor would open and they would be dragged out.

What if they set the dogs on them?  Janet could practically feel those razor-sharp teeth sinking into her yielding flesh.  They sat folded together, motionless for what seemed like hours, barely noticing cramps setting into their joints.

Just when Janet thought she could bear the suspense no longer, she heard footsteps retreating.  All at once, the ordeal was over.  Their pursuers had obviously overlooked the trapdoor.  The men resumed their search upstairs and eventually, left them alone.

When the silence resumed, Janet could hear the scuttle of vermin in the gloom around them.  She moved to slip out.  Now that the fear of capture had receded, claustrophobia was closing in.  She could feel herself about to begin hyperventilating.

Andrea grabbed her arm and shook her head.  Janet signed and resigned herself to a few more moments in the cramped space.  When they emerged, Janet allowed herself the luxury of a sneeze.  Stiff legs conveyed them back up the stairs.  The sunlight which shone weakly through the dusty window panes was reassuring, after the dark, fetid basement.  Janet fixed her sister with a stern look.

“How on earth did they find us?”

“Do I look like a mind reader? Who knows how they tracked us down?”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me something?”

“I tried to tell you.  You said you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Yeah, well I changed my mind.  Allowing you to keep secrets is obviously bad for my health.  You’ve been here before haven’t you?”

“Yes, but they don’t know that.”

“How the hell do you know what those people know?  And who is they anyway?”

“I don’t know their names.”

“Alright smart ass, what have you done or what is it that they think you did?”

“They may be under the impression that I have something that belongs to them.”

“I’m going to assume you have it.  Where did you get it?”

“Steve gave it to me for safekeeping.”

“So, give it back to Steve and let them chase him.”

“It’s valuable.  I’m not just gonna hand it over to a bunch of strangers.  Something tells me, they’re not gonna just let us go on our merry way afterwards.  My gut tells me that the minute I hand it over, they’ll kill both of us.  These are the kind of people who hold grudges.”

“How do you know it’s valuable? Let’s face it sis, you’ve screwed over a lot of people.  I would need a spreadsheet, just to keep them all straight.  How do you know what those people want?”

“Steve told me all about it.  He was going to double-cross them and then sell it to the highest bidder.”

“Let me get this straight.  This Steve guy tells you he’s about to screw over a bunch of dangerous people and you decide to join him?  Just give this, this...what is this thing that has everybody all worked up?”

“It’s a talisman.”

“Give Steve back the stupid talisman, so that we can go home.”

“I can’t do that Janet.”

“You can’t do it?  What you mean is that you won’t give it back.”

“No, I mean I can’t give it back to Steve.”

“I’m probably going to regret asking, but why can’t you give it back?”

“I can’t give it back, because that was Steve’s dead body that we stepped over last night.”

“What a minute.  I thought that guy was some stranger, who broke into your house.  You mean you knew him?  Why the hell did you shoot him?  Don’t tell me you shot him, so you could keep the talisman.”

“Don’t look at me like that Janet.  I had no choice.  All I wanted to do was split the proceeds from this little sale.  If you knew about some of the favors I’ve done for this man, you would realize that I earned half of that money.  I helped him get the damn thing.  Of course, at the time he said it was just a little gift he had given a woman and once they broke up, she wouldn’t give it back.  What he didn’t tell me at the time was that she was a Doorkeeper.”

“She was a what?  A doorkeeper?  What? Like a doorman at some fancy high-rise apartment building?”

“No stupid, Doorkeepers are part of an order that dates back to ancient times when they would guard religious assemblies against spies and magistrates.  Of course, they’ve evolved into something much more...deadly.  I almost died helping Steve get that damn talisman, but that’s a story for another day.  The point is, he wouldn’t listen to reason.  He started threatening me.  You know I don’t do well with threats.  The next thing I knew, he was attacking me.  Nobody puts their hands on me.  Not anymore.”

Andrea’s expression hardened.  Janet had seen that look before and knew she meant every word.  There was no point in arguing with her.  Andrea’s temper always made things go from bad to worse.  Janet jumped at the sound of a sudden knock at the door.  Her first instinct was to run back down to the basement and crawl back into their hiding place.

Andrea put a restraining hand on her arm and went to open the door.  Janet couldn’t believe her eyes.  She pounced on her sister and dragged her back from the door.

“Are you crazy?  It’s probably those men.  They must have doubled back.”

“Why the hell would they pause and knock on the door?  Relax, I know who it is.  I called Ethan on the way here, while you were passed out in the truck.  He’s going to take us someplace safe, so that we can figure out what to do next.”

“How do we know we can trust this guy?  Let’s face it Andrea, you don’t have the best track record with men. Does he know about the talisman?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t know how valuable it is.  I’m telling you, we can trust him.  He’s my ride-or-die.”

“He’s your what?”

Andrea rolled her eyes and went to let Ethan inside.