#those children are still living and kicking within them despite all they’ve done to have ‘zuko’ and ‘azula’ erased

[hella1975]

lately ive been crying like a tall child. etc. if you even care

[livwritesstuff]

uh so i was feeling like writing something angsty and ever since i wrote this a little bit ago i can’t stop thinking about the idea of what the upside down coming back decades later would look like, however it’s a bummer and not the vibe i want for my steddie!dads verse so consider this an au for an au or whatever idk

It’s a normal, average, mundane, regular Wednesday when Dustin calls.

They don’t talk as much as they used to, but that’s adult life, Steve supposes. 

They both have entire lives now, spouses and children and jobs that consume pretty much every waking hour. The near-1000 miles that separates Steve and Eddie in Massachusetts from Dustin in Indiana doesn’t help things either, and seeing as how Dustin had long-since inherited the Hawkins Lab research from Owens when he retired back in the mid-2000s, that won’t be changing any time soon.

Steve is home when Dustin calls, and between counseling clients, so when the phone rings and lights up with his name, Steve picks it up with a grin.

“Hey man, what’s goin’ on!”

Nothing but silence comes through Dustin’s end for a while – such a long time that Steve checks to make sure that the call didn’t drop or his phone didn’t die or something (and neither had happened, so it’s definitely a Dustin thing).

“Dustin?” he asks, “You there?”

Silence, still.

Then –

“Steve.”

Dustin sounds…not normal, and Steve feels the grin slide off his face.

“What?”

“Steve,” he chokes, “It’s…it’s back.”

Steve feels his heart stop for a second, feels it like all the blood in his veins came to an abrupt halt for just a moment.

“The Upside Down,” Dustin continues, “It…all of…it’s back.”

He sounds like he’s underwater, or maybe Steve’s the one sinking beneath the surface, just like he’d done forty years ago when he’d taken Dustin’s place on that boat and got dragged into hell through the depths of Lover’s Lake.

Steve hangs up the phone, his hands shaking.

His knees feel shaky too, like they can’t support his weight anymore despite doing so for nearly sixty years.

They’ve been giving him problems lately – his knees. Nothing too crazy; he can still go on his runs and putter around the yard and all that. It’s just a part of aging, he supposes, and he hadn’t minded aging before – liked it, even. Liked his greying hair and the crow’s feet around his eyes and his achy knees, because there’d been a period of time many years ago when he wasn’t sure he’d make it long enough to experience that inevitability of life.

Right this second though, he hates it, hates the way it makes him realize he’s not as nimble as he used to be, the way his reaction time isn’t the same anymore, because he knows that’s what had gotten him through those horrible years back in the mid-eighties.

He lowers himself down, and as his ass hits the tile floor of the bathroom – his daughters’ bathroom, the one they’ve shared practically their whole lives, the one Moe lost her first tooth in, the one Robbie pierced her own ears in, the one Hazel will be getting ready for prom in soon – Dustin calls him again.Steve doesn’t pick up, too busy kicking himself for not considering sooner the possibility of this sooner, for not having a plan ready to execute to keep their daughters safe the way no adult had done for him.

He can feel an old instinct – the urge to gather his loved ones close – starting to kick in, his mind starting to race as he catalogs the people who make up his small corner of the world. 

Hazel is easy – she’s at the high school just down the road. He can have her back home, back within arm’s reach, in a matter of minutes.

Robin and Nancy are next closest, still living in Boston after all these years. Steve would wager a guess that they’ll be hearing from Dustin soon if they haven’t already, and then they’ll probably head Steve and Eddie’s way, and then they’ll all regroup. 

They’ll figure out what their next moves are.

Moe and Robbie are trickier with both of them living in New York City and likely unwilling to leave their school and their jobs and their friends without any warning whatsoever. Moe is getting more and more reasonable the older she gets, so Steve may have to start with her and hope that Robbie follows.

Moe is twenty-two now. 

Moe is older than both of her dads had been when Eddie had nearly died, when Steve had carried him out of hell and made sure he didn’t. All three of their daughters – even seventeen-year-old Hazel – are older than Steve had been when he got sucked into that horrible mess, and they’re still so damn young. 

With two decades of parenting under his belt, he finds it kind of unbelievable that anybody had looked at his sixteen-year-old face and seen anything but a child, nevermind actually asked him to do the things that he’d done.

Dustin calls him two more times before he gives up. Only a moment later, Steve hears Eddie’s phone ring downstairs, and then he hears Eddie’s jovial tone as he answers the call. 

He goes quiet real quick after that.

Just as Steve is deciding who to call first – Hazel’s school or Moe – his phone vibrates, two quick buzzes that can only indicate a text from Robin.

He opens it.

did dustin call you?

Steve lets out a heavy breath because, fuck, it’s real.

Yeah, he texts back, then adds –

This fucking sucks

40 years

As Steve watches the bubbles of Robin’s incoming response, he can vaguely hear Eddie’s ascent of the stairs, still on the phone with Dustin. 

The bubbles disappear.

“Fuck you, Dustin,” he hears Eddie snarl, “This is on you.” There’s silence for a while, and Eddie seems to pause in the hallway just in front of their bedroom door. Then, “Yeah, I’ll talk to him…I know…later, man. Love you. Be safe.”

Steve looks down at his phone to see that Robin is still typing, only for the bubbles to disappear again a second later.

Finally –

nance is going back

i’m going with her

Steve could throw up.

He almost does, he’s pretty sure, although he’s not positive because he might be having an out of body experience, or maybe he’s dissociating, or maybe it’s a fucking PTSD flashback or something. He doesn’t know.

He should know, or so his handful of psych degrees would suggest, and he probably would know if it was happening to someone else, but then again, he’s always worn blinders when it comes to himself.

That was true about him when all this shit started in 1983, and it’s still true now, almost forty years later.

Forty fucking years.

He doesn’t look up when Eddie comes into the bathroom, joining him on the floor with his back against the bathtub.

“Dustin took offense to you hanging up on him,” he says, and Steve can hear the way he’s forcing humor into his tone.

As if any of this shit is funny.

“Erica and the kids left with Claudia,” Eddie continues, answering a question Steve probably would’ve gotten around to asking Dustin himself if it weren’t for the whole hanging up on him thing, “Erica went kicking and screaming, obviously. I offered up our house, but they’re still deciding where they want to camp out. And everyone has agreed not to say a word to Jim and Joyce.”

Yeah, that makes sense, seeing as they’re both in their eighties and perpetually acting like they’re thirty years younger – at a minimum.

Not that Steve would know anything about that.

Definitely not.

“He said he’s one-hundred percent positive that it’s all still contained to Hawkins, so…” Eddie pauses, “We don’t have to, like, track down the girls or anything. Just make sure they don’t go anywhere near Indiana.”

And that, at least, is an actual relief.

“Robin’s going back,” Steve tells him, because there’s no point waiting to address that particular issue in this whole fucking mess.

The so I’m going too is implied, because that has never needed to be said when it came to Steve and Robin.

The way Eddie’s face changes evades Steve’s ability to describe. It makes him regret saying anything – that’s for fucking sure. Makes him wish he’d just snuck away in the dead of night.

“C’mon man, we’ve picked up a whole fuckin’ litter over the years,” Eddie says, and he’s still forcing humor into his tone, “You can’t leave me to fend off the masses alone – the years have made me weak-willed, I’ll surrender immediately.”

Steve manages a snort, but he still looks down at the floor all the same.

Eddie doesn’t say anything else for a while, but his hand wraps around Steve’s ankle as if there was enough brute strength in the one appendage to keep him rooted to the bathroom floor.

(Strangely enough, it feels like there might be).

“Steve,” Eddie finally says, his voice stiff and hard in a way Steve doesn’t think he’s ever heard before, “We are way too old for this shit – Robin and Nance too.”

Eddie pauses.

“Steve,” he says again, “I know how important Robin is. I know, but our children would be fucking devastated if anything happened to you. Don’t think they wouldn’t – and something would most certainly happen to you.”

“Eddie.” 

He’s still avoiding his husband’s eyes.

“Steve,” he pleads, something desperate in his voice, “We talked about this. Remember? Last spring, when we watched that stupid zombie show with Hazel? And there was the episode with the old gay guys? We talked about this. You told me not to let you go if this shit came back.”

Steve makes no response. Ed lets out a heavy breath, looking to the ceiling.

They have this conversation every now and then – one of those conversations that always teeters on the edge of an argument – in which Eddie insists that Steve could be fine if their relationship ended in a way that Eddie himself would not. It’s a conversation that Steve hates, because he hates the idea that Eddie – his husband of twenty years and the love of his whole entire life – could still be thinking so low of himself, that there’s any part of him that doesn’t think Steve would be fucking wrecked by losing him.

Still, it had always been a hypothetical. It had never been real.

Suddenly, Steve feels claustrophobic sitting on the floor of his daughters’ bathroom. He gets to his feet and, as he heads for the door, Eddie scrambles up after him.

Halfway down the hall, Eddie lunges for him and catches his arm, wheeling him back around to face him.

“Steve,” Eddie says one more time. 

Then, because he apparently has no words ready to follow with, he stops.

“Steve,” Eddie starts again, “Please. You’re everything. I love the girls and I love our life, but Christ, Steve, you’re my entire world. You changed everything for me. You showed me how life could be worth living, and you keep showing me, and I’m not ready to let go of you yet – not even fucking close. Please don’t let this be the way we leave each other.”

Steve finally lets himself look at Eddie’s face, the face he’d fallen in love with decades ago, the face he’s still in love with decades later. He looks at his big eyes and the hint of grey at his hairline and his crows feet and the scarring that creeps up his neck from underneath the collar of his shirt (it’s a shirt he’s had for ages – since before even Moe was born by the looks of it, but so is the rest of his half of their closet).

And he finds himself nodding.

Eddie’s exhale is all desperate relief as he tugs Steve into his arms and wraps them around his shoulders. Steve immediately reciprocates the hug, pulling him in even closer, surprised to feel tears pin-pricking his eyes

“I love you so much, Steve,” Eddie tells him, gripping the back of his t-shirt so tight he feels the collar pulling taut against his throat, “I don’t say that to you enough.”

“You say it all the time,” Steve replies with a wet laugh.

“Not enough,” he shakes his head, and Steve decides there’s no point in arguing.

A minute goes by.

“Fuck,” Steve half-laughs, half-chokes as he lifts his head to meet Eddie’s eyes, “This fucking sucks.”

“I know,” he says. 

Again, he reels Steve in, and again, Steve lets him, holding onto his husband like a lifeline, like they’re standing somewhere far more perilous than the carpeted floor of their upstairs hallway.

“I know,” Eddie repeats, “And we’ll…we’ll talk about it but for now, just – can I just hold you for a bit, okay?”

Steve nods again.

“Okay.”

read the extended version on AO3 (i.e. feat. added “flashbacks” so it fits the formatting of the rest of the series)

[b0rista]

i keep seeing dad!levi on the tl and i cant stop thinking abt him as a dad😩 can i request drabble/hc/fic of levi and his s/o adopting gabi and falco🥰 no thoughts. just dad!levi brainrot go brrrrt

— ADOPTIVE FATHER! LEVI HEADCANONS + FALCO & GABI. ♡︎

AUTHOR'S NOTES: gn! reader.

never would you have ever expected to take in a pair of children as your own. better yet, never would you have ever expected him to. while you knew his soft side all too well, everyone has their limits.

gabi and falco moving in with you and levi likely just,, happened. a temporary housing for them, considering they had nowhere else to go. seeing as though imprisonment for a second time was a bit of a reach, it was a minor debate within headquarters regarding what to do with the two. through careful consideration, your lover made a decision.

what better way to supervise them than in our own home?

of course, the thought conflicted you. the enemy, living with you? sure, they were barely teenagers, but that didn't make them any less capable of murdering you in your slumber.

knowing levi, though, that would never be the case. the man was already the world’s most calculating insomniac, lord knows he’d never let either of those kids out of his sight. especially not around you. 

nevertheless, your guys’ experience living with the remaining warriors of marley would be far more different than either of you would ever think to realize. 

ACTUAL HEADCANONS BELOW: ⇩︎

to your surpise, falco’s quite literally the sweetest pre-teen to ever roam the earth. of course, you’d only assumed it was all an act. that was,, until you genuinely caught him attempting to befriend levi's horse one morning. he was outside holding a fistful of grass, holding it out to the thing as if it were some sort of a beast. eventually, you joined him, and you showed him just how to handle it. and while the boy seemed skeptical at first, you saw that glimmer in his eyes the moment the horse allowed him to pet its mane. from the window, levi only watched.

speaking of levi's horse, that thing absolutely despises gabi. you're not quite sure why, but it does. you've literally had to run out and claw her hair out from between its teeth before— she's scReaminG, you'Re screaming, even the horse is screaming.

"why does this keep happening to me?!"

"this has happened befoRe?"

whenever either of the two children curse, levi's quick to correct them. despite having quite the foul mouth himself, he doesn't hesitate whenever he has to toss out a blunt "language."

^ at first, they were bitter. with time, though, they stopped swearing.

a key moment in time that helped develop you and falco's relationship was one afternoon where he was helping you out with yard work. somehow, his little crush on gabi came up, and the two of you got to talking about it. after giving him some genuine, appropriate advice for a kid with a crush, he really did start looking at you differently.

as for levi and gabi, those two bonded over intense, hilarious training. he found her punching the air in his backyard, and decided to drop in with a few sarcastic pointers. somehow, it ended in him kicking the poor girl around like a rag doll— not violently, he never hurt her. instead, he fended off each and every attack she fired at him, leaving her absolutely exhausted. she was tired out, and he was perfectly fine. imagine gabi, laying on the ground, tired as shiT, and levi, gently nudging the toe of his boot into her side:

"you can fight, but you're messy. if you ever stand a chance at surviving this war you started, i suggest you clean up your act."

cue gabi, glaring.

"if you care so much, then help me become better."

and so he did 🥺🥺 the two bond over levi practically coaching her, and as the days merge into weeks, she grows to actually respect levi, and maybe even look up to him.

basically, while you and falco live your cottagecore lives and bond over horses and apple picking, levi and gabi beat the everliving shit out of eachother in the backyard. it's a great balance.

for the first couple of nights, eating at the dinner table with those two was disgustingly awkward. it was utter silence, nothing more. however, one night, falco dropped his fork, and when he bent down to get it, he looked underneath the table for a milliseconD— there levi was, leaned down, stArinG at him. it was both hilarious and terrifying altogether, and falco ended up screeching and knocking his head into the table, hard.

"I WAS GETTING A F O R K-"

"and? gRemlin."

it surprised all of you, hearing gabi laugh. a genuine, real laugh. eventually, that turned into a conversation. and after that, you had conversations during every dinner. the development process was cruel, but worth it.

the kids help you prepare breakfast in the morning while levi downs his fourth cup of tea at the table, and it's always cute. because of you, falco knows how to make scrambled eggs! and also because of you, gabi knows how to prank somebody using an uncooked noodle. literally, she just places a piece of it between her teeth, pretend to crack her nose, and crunch. she made falco scReAm, and levi just looked at you like 🤨 bitch, tf are u teaching her

now, this was around three months into supervising them. one night, they were sitting alongside you on the sofa, and you were reading them a story. while falco was into it, gabi thought it was silly— still, though, she listened. eventually, they passed the hell out on either side of you. you drifted off, as well. when you woke up, you'd woken up to levi, his head rested onto your lap while his knees prop him up from the floor. by the looks of it, he wanted to be included.

whenever either of them step out of line, they earn a swift flick to the forehead from levi. it's a daily thing. gabi says something stupid, flick. falco slacks off during chores, flick. one time, gabi tried flicking him back, and it just started a flick war. you were done with all three of them.

both gabi and falco love telling you about marley's technology. you'd never heard of such things, and to know that they exist? shit, the look on your face is priceless. they absolutely adore getting a reaction out of you, and they often butt heads over who gets to tell you what. when they do, cue the overly aggressive forehead flicks from levi.

while levi told you not to, you couldn't help yourself. you showed them just how cool it is to use ODM gear. of course, they lost their shit, because holy hell that looks fun. your boyfriend, of course, caught you swinging from tree to tree while the two children gawked at you, and he gave you a stern talking to. before he did, though, that motherfucker joined you in the trees. again, the kids lost it.

"loOKATTHEMFALCOLOOKLOOK-"

"i'MloOokinG-"

eventually, they just think you guys are the coolest people they've ever come across. which stirs up one heLL of an identity crisis for gabi, because,, lol aren't y'all devils or sum?

[unchartedwcters]

{zión moreno, 21, trans woman, she/her/hers} || yazmín navarro montes is a mutant with the ability of hydrokinesis (water manipulation). they’ve been in new york for eight and a half years where they spend most of their time as student attending xavier’s/unwilling omega. when i think of them, i think of words and pictures carved into desks, a pool of water’s wobbly reflection, necklace chains tangled in hair, and fast footsteps following the sound of a schoolbell.

UNCLASSIFIED 

SECRET

yazmín navarro montes was the apple of her parents’ eye. despite being the middle child of three children, she didn’t linger in the background or have to fight for attention. her mother and father always had plenty of time and love for her, no matter what. they let her express herself however she wanted. because of that, she would, soon enough, realize she was trans. her parents accepted her wholeheartedly, as did the rest of her family, embracing and supporting her. they even moved churches the moment the one they attended attempted to disapprove. their new and lifelong one would be loving and kind, and yazmín would see it as her second home for a long time. 

unlike most kids, yaz didn’t bemoan going to church, praying, or all the time spent there that other children would say is ‘wasted’. she herself felt close to god, as if he smiled on her and her family. the cross her grandparents had given her on her fifth birthday almost never left her neck. her sister teased her for how much of a “kiss-ass” for god she could be, but it didn’t shake how yaz felt. when she was within the walls of the church, it was as if a wave of energy would fill her bones. it was magical. 

schooling proved to be more of a challenge, as she found herself easily bored. that was until she got a taste for science, chemistry specifically. she dove head first in, eager to read, learn, and watch whatever she could get her hands on. there were more than a few times they had to air out the house when one of yaz’s experiments went awry. most of those incidents could be explained away easily, but there were one or two her parents always wondered about. it was as if yazmín would have access to chemicals or tools that she’d have no way to get. they’d soon find others who shared in their concerns. 

much like any tween about to become a teen, yaz would have spouts of moodiness. she filed in behind her sister in one of those moods, irritated by everything and anything, even the surge of energy she got entering the church. as they sat down, the priest came down the aisle to bless them all with holy water. it was a routine he liked to do every first sunday of the month. yazmín rolled her eyes as he passed their row, unhappy her outfit would get stained. that was all it took. the water never touched her, standing still as her eyes met the ceiling, before sprinkling to the floor in front of her feet. she didn’t notice at all, nor did her family. 

but the priest did. 

he didn’t want to believe it. right before his eyes, the water meant to bless a devoted child of god had repelled itself from her. he even tried to bless her again, yet the same thing happened. 

to yazmín, nothing had happened. it worried the priest even more. at first, he did nothing with this information, unsure of what to do. as time passed, more odd instances happened around her. she took her brother to the park, and the park’s sprinklers rose but no water came out. once they left, water exploded from each opening. her mother would notice she’d come home bone dry despite a spring shower outside. every once in awhile the faucets in the house would only run warm right away despite the winter biting at people’s heels outside. 

it’s six months what the priest witnessed when he came to her parents. he explained his concerns, and they were distraught. mutants were becoming a more well known entity in the last decade, but many churches had found themselves distrusting. they thought, instead of a scientific explanation, the manifestation of powers was evidence of demons or the devil itself. people who showed signs of these abilities had to be saved for the sake of themselves and others. 

when yazmín came home from school that day, she was met by all three of them and a priest she didn’t know. her sister was away at college and her brother had been sent to stay with their grandparents. it was an unsettling silence that would last for two years. 

that evening yazmín went through her first exorcism. they didn’t explain why or what she had down. it scared her, despite how little they did. the way her parents looked at her, how the priest flinched under gaze, she couldn’t understand what she had done wrong. it took the third exorcism for her to find out what it was. holy water sprinkled on her, until it suddenly halted in the air. she stared at it, eyes wide, before turning her head and the droplets hit the exorcist right in the face. 

“the hold the demon has on her grows stronger,” the man gravely spoke. 

it finally dawned on her. she tried to defend herself, tell them she wasn’t doing it on purpose, that she hadn’t done it at all. she would know if she were possessed, and she wasn’t. she cried, shouted, but no one listened. none of it worked. her parents were desperate to save their daughter, and the priests wanted to save her soul. 

the exorcisms continued, increasing in their length and intensity. days blurred together, prayers ringing in her ears and her hope for a light at the end of the tunnel growing smaller and smaller. her father would cry out, “please save my little girl! please bring her back!” 

“i’m still here, papa,” yazmín sobbed. “i never left!” but after awhile, even that didn’t sound true. 

somedays she’d fight back, although unintentional. her hands curling into fists would freeze the pipes, a glare could boil a drink, a missed kick would bring a wave of water over from their neighbor’s pool. each time they grew more convinced of her possession, while yazmín realized she wasn’t without options. she made a few attempts to run away, only to fail because she was only thirteen. 

then, quite suddenly, that daily routine came to an end. it all started with the newest exorcist coming in, and wondering aloud if there was any saving her. her mother had gasped, and father looked ready to cry. he and the other priests went to another room, and came back with a new plan. they would take her out of this environment, to somewhere no demon could survive. it could take months, years to return, if she ever did. it was their last resort. 

yazmín didn’t give her parents a chance to answer. “i’m not leaving my home!” 

“now, young lady, that isn’t-” 

“i didn’t do anything wrong!” her cry shook the house, the pool next door sloshed, and the dam holding back the river above the down cracked ever so slightly. 

“baby, please--” her mother tried to calm her, but yaz shook her head, tears already on her face. 

“i’m-” the sink heads burst off. “not-” cracks filled the area around the pool, “leaving.” every pipe in the house ruptured, breaking the drywall apart with the force of the water coming out. 

a similar scene took place in other houses, backyards flooded other backyards, and the crack of the dam grew longer. 

“she must be stopped!” the priest cried out, unsheathing a dagger from beneath his robes and headed toward yazmín, quickly. “or else she will take us all!” 

there were screams and yells all around her. time slowed down. yaz watched each muscle of his body raise the dagger towards her, and she grabbed for anything to help her. water interlinks with her finger and forms a sharp knife of its own. his dagger dragged over a centimeter of her neck, and the pain woke her up. she used the weapon in hand and stabbed it through his body. 

metal clattered to the floor with a thud of a body. everyone was staring at her. within moments, yaz passed out. 

the next few months of her life would be hard to account for. the government had gotten involved, as did charles xavier. her meltdown had brought their town a lot of attention, along with questions. no one found out that she caused it. authorities wished to keep her with them, but charles had somehow convinced them to let her attend xavier’s. later, yaz would find it ironic her attempt to stay home would send her away anyways. 

things were hard for awhile, but she grew accustomed to her new life. she even enjoyed it, being around people like her and free to use those powers without consequence. nearly a decade later, the year of exorcisms was becoming a distant memory. but the government hadn’t forgotten about her. 

someone powerful enough to nearly sink an entire town at thirteen, who could surly do even worse now, was not easily filed away by those in charge. they had contacted professor xavier in the beginning stages of the omega project, then reached out to her. they offered her a deal: a complete wipe of her record in exchange for her participation. yazmín hated them for it. they made her an offer she couldn’t refuse, and she accepted it with gritted teeth. 

now, yazmin is moved out of the comfort of xavier’s and lives in a cold compound with strangers she prefers to keep at arms length. her life is a whirlwind again, and she’s not sure when it’ll stop this time, if it ever will. 

[halla-hunts-the-wolf]

A short-story preview.

Set in a story where years down the line, Fen'harel has yet to destroy the Veil, but his plights are making all of Thedas weary of the modern elves.

Four Dalish elves band together to avenge a massacre. Will they inflict Justice or Vengeance on those responsible? And what secrets will they uncover along the way?

Warning: Violent acts & Character Death.

----

On the outskirts of Ansburg, a Dalish settlement had been destroyed. 

They had been camping beside the coast, where a river drained off from the ocean. 

They’d thought that the lack of freshwater would make the paths less favorable towards merchants or humans in general.  Their aravels had been pitched and their halla let loose to graze. 

They lasted three days. 

On the fourth day, when two cloaked riders closed in on where the Dalish were meant to be, the stench of death still remained, carrion birds harvested bodies, and a started fire had laid waste to everything.  

Blood ran the river red by the time the two riders reached the desolate camp.

Their movements became slow and they approached with caution; anticipating an ambush, but all they were met with was the silence that the massacre left behind. 

“Maker,” one of the riders mumbled, bringing his arm up to cover his nose.  “Who could have done this? Do you think it could’ve been Fen’harel?” 

“No,” the other rider says, his voice somber and distant. “No, these elves were not his enemies and they did not deserve his wrath.”  As he spoke, he would have abandoned his mount, an older Dracolisk, beside the river. Carrying on by foot, he would assess the carnage.  Bodies lay to waste around him, many of which were missing their pointed ears. It was sickening, deplorable, and a byproduct of fear.  “Even so, this act is unforgivable.” His voice would crack, overwhelmed by anger  and grief. “There are so few of our people left, and the only thing they have done is chosen not to take a side in this foolish war.” 

“The war that we are fighting.” 

“Yes, because even though it is foolish, it can not be ignored.  Not when innocent people are being slaughtered like this.” The second rider would crouch down, to close the eyes of an elf who was staring up at the sky. “Falon’Din enasal enaste.” 

“What are we going to do now, carry on to Tevinter?” 

“We are going to bury them, and find those responsible.” 

The first rider lets out an exasperated sigh. “Lavellan, we don’t have the time-” 

“- Then we make time.” 

The first rider says nothing more, hanging his head in silent compliance. 

They spend their evening in this way, gathering bodies and offering them final prayers. They didn’t have the means to do a proper ceremony, but they would do their best with heavy hearts.  

Nightfall had soon come and gone, and as a new dawn broke across the sky, the two men sat across from each other, swallowing down their rations despite lacking a proper appetite.  

“So you didn’t find your dalish contact amongst the dead?” The first rider would ask, his bright green eyes were growing red, as he fought the  need to sleep.  Only in his mid-twenties, and a recently freed slave of the Tevinter Imperium, he was not used to the constant traveling and combat he had to endure while shadowing the former Inquisitor.  He rubs at his face, hands running across his mutilated vallaslin.  The branches that spread over his cheeks had been cut into and burned by his former master, when he was only eighteen and freshly kidnapped from his own clan. “Perhaps he went after those responsible?” 

“No,” Lavellan would shake his head. “Ryland would have waited for us, had he still been alive and of his own free will.” The older elf  would be fiddling with a string around his neck. He clutched at the sending crystal as if it was his life line with one hand, while the other, a prosthetic, would be clutching a potion. “This group was made up of smaller dalish clans, ones that were left abandoned by their clanmates when they joined Solas. Ryland was traveling with them, to bring them to another encampment on the other side of Nevarra.” 

“That was very noble of him.” 

“Yes, and I’m the one who asked him to do it.” 

“You can’t blame yourself for what happened, and drink your potion.” 

Lavellan would stop fiddling with his necklace, taking to unscrewing the cork of the bottle in his hand. “If we had gotten here a day sooner Ma’hallian, we may have prevented this from happening entirely.”  He would down the bottle in one go, guzzling it’s dark purple liquid, looking as if he’d just bit into a lemon afterwards. “This thing could be a poison.” 

“A poison that keeps you from keeling over in pain.” Ma’hallian would remind him gently, before reaching out to take the empty bottle from the other man’s hands. “And we didn’t get here a day sooner, so we have to keep moving forward.” 

“We will, as soon as the person responsible is brought to justice.” 

The white-haired elf would lean forward, fixing the former Inquisitor with a narrowed gaze. 

The older elf was on the cusp of fifty, with silver streaks in his long chestnut hair and wrinkles overtaking his darkened skin.  These days, his hands shook whenever he lifted his sword, and his amber eyes always smoldered with conviction. “Is it justice you are after, or is it vengeance?”

“The two are not so different, when faced with a situation like this.” 

“We both know that they are.” 

Lavellan hated being shown up by his assistant, someone who could be so callous and shy towards the rest of the world. The boy had spent the majority of his life either in solitude or servitude and yet, he still managed to come out of it with a remarkable sense of responsibility and level headedness. 

“I-” He does not get a proper sentence out, as a distant sound causes his ears to twitch. Ma’hallian hears it too and they rise to their feet.  

Ma’hallian draws a dagger from his belt and Lavellan pulls free his sword from its sheath.  They approach the source of the noise with silent steps, until they are looming over the site of a destroyed aravel. It’s red fabric and splintered wood had made a heavy pile, and something dared to move beneath it. 

“Careful,” Lavellan murmurs, “it may be an abomination that’s risen.” 

Leering forward with one foot, the elf  would kick the debris away, his sword poised to strike down, but he would stop just short of skewering another elf. 

An elf also nearing his fifties, with deep red hair that was coated in soot and streaked with soft greys. His face, while well defined, was covered in laugh lines and scars alike. They danced along his vallaslin for Ghilan’nain, etched in blue to match his eyes.   This new elf stares up at them, as a cough rattles throughout his chest and past his lips.  “Well, hello your highness. I survived then? Unless you managed to finally kick the bucket too.” 

“No, Ry, you’re just that lucky.” Lavellan would put his sword away before holding out a hand, hauling his former partner from the aravel. Eyeing him wearily, in search of any wounds that could prove fatal. 

“Ah well, what can I say? The universe loves me.” Ryland dusts himself off, wincing as he does so, but seemingly unharmed save for a few aches, bruises, and perhaps a concussion after being crushed beneath one of their landships. “How bad is it?” 

“You’re the only survivor.”

 The red-head takes in a sharp breath. “That can’t be right. Where are the bodies?” 

They take him to the people who they had wrapped or covered, ready to be buried, as time permitted them.  He looks them over, with blue eyes watering, before he shakes his head.  “There were younger elves here, children, and a mage. None of them are with the dead.” 

“Perhaps they perished in the fire that ravaged the camp?” Ma’hallain offers, supervising Ryland as Lavellan wanders off to their mounts. “Or animals picked off their remains?” 

“You are  a grim young man, Ma’hallain, but no. The only scavengers in this area are the birds, and they wouldn’t be able to devour  a body within a day, let alone a dozen or so. The person responsible for the siege must have taken them.” 

“And who was responsible?” Lavellan had rejoined them, bringing a fresh pair of clothes to Ryland from his carry on.

“There’s a human settlement nearby, Ansburg? They’ve recently come into new leadership and the man appears to be terrified of us knife-ears.” Ryland would strip there, pulling his otherwise tattered shirt over his head and tossing it to the ground.  Lavellan would hand him the clean one and Ma’hallian would have the decency to look away as he took off his pants as well. “When the local militia arrived, I told them that we had no ties with Fen’Harel or the Qun. They said that they were under orders and at the end of the day, all elves were the same.” 

“Yet they would never claim that all humans are murderers, would they?” 

“Fear is bred by ignorance, highness. They’ll get what’s coming for them.” 

Lavellan would grumble, “Did you at least scout Ansburg when you first made camp?” 

“Course I did, seemed like a normal shemlen village. Smelt of rotten fish and wet dog. There weren’t any elves, but I didn’t find that odd. There aren’t many flat ears left in the smaller settlements.”  

“Did you find where this new leader lived?” 

“It was the first thing on my list, but something seemed off about it. The whole village was sort of dreary, but his estate was shimmery, almost. Like the stones were reflecting the light.” 

Ma’hallian snaps back to attention, his ears drooping just so. “That sounds like warding, and a very obvious one.  I bet he is using it to scare others away, people do that in the Magisterium. Either to scare the already fearful, or to make a spectacle out of something valuable.” 

“So we’ll need a mage?” Lavellans asks. 

“Unless warriors suddenly know how to dispel things? Rogues most certainly do not.” 

“Oh,” Ryland would croon, “Do you know what it sounds like to me? It sounds like a call to Dorian. Tell him I said hello, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know that I survived.” 

Rolling his eyes, Lavellan would turn away from the other men. Knowing that Ma’hallian was glib due to his many years living in darkness and Ryland was only using humor to cope with the carnage around them. 

[cfdiamonds]

[ ARON PIPER, CIS GENDERED MAN, HE/HIM ] shh ! LEOCADIO SYNDER, the TWENTY-TWO year old SECOND year ECONOMICS major from MADRID, SPAIN, is known as a DIAMOND around here. HE was invited to join because OF HIS PERSISTENCE AND HIS FATHER WAS IN THE SOCIETY, and now, they’re here to stay. HE reminds me of A LEGION OF STAFF CONSTANTLY AT YOUR SERVICE, A WARDROBE FILLED WITH THE FINEST MATERIAL, + EXPENSIVE RINGS ON EACH OF HIS FINGERS.

helloooo!!  it’s been a long time coming but i’m finally excited to be here and join in on this super cool story the admins and all of you have created! i’m lia, i’m 23 and i go by she/her and they/them pronouns, so feel free to use either of them. i was going to make a graphic and a google doc but i’ve got plans with my family to watch a movie tonight, so until i can make the time i hope his app is enough! 

a past and character reflection.

you were born into success and luxury, the only child of two glencore billionaires — a diversified natural resource company. the synders are responsible for the marketing of lead and make a little over a billion dollars each year. all they’ve ever known was their jobs and their money, leaving little room for anything more than that, especially the addition of a child. the nannies changed your diapers and the maid picked up your toys, while the butler handled the broken glass splayed across the marble flooring from one of your daily tantrums. they bit their tongues because you were raised to view yourself as extraordinary living in a world of the ordinary. despite this, these people meant more to you than the ones who brought you into the world. you had a mother that asked you how your day went and then immediately turned her attention back to her phone or laptop, checking off that mental to-do-list that made her believe the question was enough effort. you had a father that saw you as weak and continuously pushed you past your limits, focusing on every little flaw you had and giving you no choice but to be better. you became so conflicted between your drive to be the best and your need for love, that anger became your method of coping. even the lightest of offenses were met with your spite and you glorified material things as if it were the only thing that mattered in the world. even at the tender age of ten, power was the one thing that kept you driven.

growing up, you never had any real or close friendships. the people that you called your friends were just more people that you could benefit from — the children from rich and influential families that spanned the globe. regardless of your rude and cold exterior, they still found reason to look up to you like you were their leader, be it an inheritance from your father’s charisma or your mother’s sophistication — because everything you had, you had to thank them for right? you knew exactly how to draw people in and use them until you didn’t need them anymore, kicking them to the curb the second their time ran out. the kids that excelled in school got you the highest grade, the kids that excelled in sports helped you become captain of their teams, and the kids that assisted you in breaking the rules always took the fall. and yet, no matter how hard you proved yourself as this apex predator, your parents saw you as inferior. they always told you to work smarter not harder, but when you did, it still wasn’t enough. what more could you take from the world? it had nothing left to give you.

the next chapter in your life became your second chance to prove yourself, but this time with a different method to your persistence. just as your parents did, you’d build yourself from the ground up, not taking whatever you wanted but fighting to obtain it. you already had the determination to do what had to be done to reach your goals, now all you needed to do was make it yourself. you enter your first year at strathmore university and you never take what you need to succeed, you push yourself until you earn it. every time the fates fight against you and you feel hopeless in meeting these high expectations you and your parents have made for you, you grasp onto the anguish of that ten year old boy yearning for approval and press forward with your strength. you still hold onto that cunning aspect of your character but this time, it’s something you keep hidden beneath the surface — away from prying eyes. you slip up once or twice, but it’s never enough to allow others to see you for who you truly are. you join several clubs even though you barely have the time, slipping your name into the minds of those spanning the entirety of the campus. you maintain one of the highest grades in your classes through dedication and hard work, scoffing at the students that request your assistance … they don’t deserve your help. not now anyway. not while you fight to be noticed in a place filled to the brim with excellent minds. not while you await your invitation to the society, the first step at proving that you can be great just like them. just like your parents.

on the society

upon arriving at strathmore university, leo became obsessive in his studies and joined many clubs to assist in his quest of standing out amongst the other first years. unbeknownst to many though, he also did this in hopes of earning a spot in the secret society. this is because his father had been in the society when he was young and in order to prove his potential, this was an organization he knew he had to be involved in. despite not knowing what the society was like or what they were about, he knew that they existed because of his father but that’s the extent of his knowledge on it.

when he was finally given his chance thanks to the diamond opal, leo became passionate about his spot and willing to do whatever means necessary to keep his spot. he takes advice willingly ( but goes against it if he believes they’re wrong ) and pushes to lead in some situations, not letting anyone or anything stand in the way of his goals. although he mainly does everything for his parents, whether they will ever notice or not, it is also for himself and his desire to be something great ( something he outwardly believes he already is but has struggled with internally for a long time ). leo wants to be the best prodigy and opal that the society has ever seen, and visualizes himself as the diadem when he builds himself up to that point.

when it comes to poppy nighmore, leo is more intrigued than he is worried about the reason for her disappearance. if those within the society that knew poppy are upset about her disappearance, leo is willing to take initiative in trying to solve the mystery. he will take risks and push limits in order to find information, but does so for selfish gain than anything else. he believes that he may prove himself as a worthy and necessary addition to the opal society if he continues researching and physically proving he cares. it also gives him a chance to show the others that he is capable of big things.

wanted connections.

as i read about your characters i’ll be able to generate a bit more ideas when directly plotting with each of you! these are just the ideas i have coming into the group, so if you do not see your character fitting them, worry not! we can brainstorm<3

his soft spot — the person that leo can’t seem to say no to no matter how hard he tries. his entire life he has felt little to no remorse in his conquest for power, no matter who he trampled along the way but suddenly, out of nowhere, the world presented him with this person and every time they’re around, every ounce of him becomes vulnerable. when they tell him to do something or to behave a certain way, he seldom disobeys. if they happen to be in the room when he’s behaving as he normally does, he avoids their eyes in fear of backing down. in a way, this person in his anchor that protects him from himself.

his adversary  — the person that gives leo a run for his money, testing him and pushing him every step of the way. they bear too many similarities to get along and compete over even the littlest of things. when one says yes, the other says no. the steve rogers to his tony stark. the thor to his loki.

fellow rich kids — those he knew by association prior to strathmore university or the society. they all understand each other because they grew up in similar conditions, where material things were the forms of love they received as children. they understand the lifestyle and flock together, regardless of whether or not they actually like each other. they board a private jet and escape real life for a weekend, only to return like nothing had happened come monday morning.

his best friend — leo doesn’t know it yet, perhaps neither of them do, but this person is his best friend. close relationships of any kind are foreign concepts to leo because he had, in his opinion, more important things to focus on as he grew up. love doesn’t exist in his world. so by his words, he trusts this person the most and is constantly inviting them around with him. he would never call it as it is in fear of cutting them loose and never feeling an ounce of remorse, but he’s acknowledged it in his head once or twice. this person is like the sibling he’s never had.

his mistake — in leo’s first year, he befriended this person and the pair eventually started to see each other romantically. however, leo wronged them somehow and now that he’s in the society with them, he realizes how big of a mistake he made hurting them. perhaps he fell back into old habits and made their acquaintance with the intention of gaining something, maybe in a class or by their personal influence in the world / at school, and they eventually found out about it. just an angsty exes plot.

his mentor — the diamond that took him as their prodigy. leo takes the dynamic between them incredibly serious and is willing and ready to do whatever they ask of him in order to prove they made the right choice taking him under their wing. he understands that his place in the society must not be taken for granted and so he treats it as a passion, rather than just another club around campus. he rarely does something society related without first receiving the opinion of the opal, but he also would ignore their opinion if he feels they are the one that’s wrong. this is business as usual and leo is their prodigy knowing that if all goes as planned, he will have their seat in the future.

[lovelikedestiny]

Snow and Ashes

Booker wants to laugh when Joe almost stumbles into a tree in the darkness in front of him, but the exhaustion weighs leaden in his bones and the past mission pulls the corners of his mouth down with sad certainty. He is content with a snort, which doesn't even sound amused, just wounded and painful.

Every one of his steps carries the weight of the innocent lives they could not save today. His hands are covered in the blood of the children who were killed a few hours ago, the sight of tears smeared faces and empty eyes has burned itself into his mind - because they made a mistake.

It was supposed to be a relatively simple mission: free the detained young women, men and children, and kick the human traffickers into Tartarus. But something went wrong. They made a shitty mistake and now the victims - people who had families who prayed for their deliverance - are dead and the world is no better place.

Booker wants to throw the responsibility of saving as many lives as possible on the ground and trample on it at times like these because he doesn't know how the hell to live with the knowledge that he let people die he could have saved.

The cries for help still echo in his ears, as well as the gunfire and the screams. Pale, non-existent fingers cling to his equipment, begging him to take them back to their families, and Booker almost chokes because his throat is suddenly too tight to breathe normally.

"The tree wasn't there two seconds ago," Joe says in an attempt to loosen the depressed mood that has settled over the four immortals like a threatening storm cloud. But his voice sounds dull and flat and when he straightens the scimitar on his back, his gloved hands shake.

Still, Booker steps in immediately to prevent Joe's attempt to come to nothing and although the words feel like broken glass in his mouth, Booker brings them out. “I bet it was just waiting to hop in your path. So that you would literally be a blockhead."

Joe doesn't laugh, but the grateful look he gives him over his shoulder is enough to take the pressure off Booker's throat a little. At least for now. “Exactly. This forest is dangerous.”

“I heard that beeches are supposed to be particularly smart,” Booker says, straightening the straps of his backpack, which dig into his shoulders as if their failure would make his backpack even heavier.

"Then I'll keep an eye on beeches," Joe says and the weak, narrow smile on his face is atypical for him and his broad grin with the radiance of the damn sun, but Booker doesn't blame him and clings to the much smaller version of this smile.

They've been wandering through the forest for two hours after rushing to leave the place on their mission after they screwed up. It's freezing, the wind feels like little blades in Booker's face, and to top it off, it looks like it is going to start to snow soon. Booker has hated snow since his first death in the icy winter of Russia and after the complete failure today he is not exactly eager to deal with snow.

The darkness has long since settled over them, but the full moon gives them enough light. Booker has no idea what time it is, and he doesn't bother to check. What does time mean when there are people whose time ended today because of them? While they are still walking around and alive despite the bullets that hit them?

At the head of their formation, Andy doesn't seem to be deciding to take a break anytime soon. Her steps are determined and harsh, though she's still limping slightly from the force of the grenade that hit her and Joe.

While her lower body was most affected and it was sheer luck that none of her legs were completely torn off, Joe had been hit mostly in the upper body. His jacket is torn, and his sweater is barely there and dark from the blood and remnants of the intestines that had previously oozed from his open abdominal wall. He protested when Nicky handed him his jacket on the grounds that his hoodie was thicker than Joe's barely existing sweater, but he put it on. And that is sorely needed.

Even Booker is already freezing in his intact, well-filled jacket and the thought of just trudging through the forest in a sweater gives goosebumps to his goosebumps. At least the numbness has disappeared from his left arm, which lurked there since one of the criminal bastards rammed a knife into his shoulder.

However, this does not lessen his exhaustion and if he is so tired, it must be worse for Joe and Andy, who suffered the most severe injuries on this mission. Without a word, he watches as Joe stumbles more and more over roots or branches, which are actually easy to see in the moonlight. And even if Andy continues to keep her tight pace, Booker reads in the way her shoulders hunch that she is drained too. There are still a few miles to go to the place, where the hut they are aiming for to gather from today's loft, is. At least if Booker's brain hasn't completely shut down yet.

There is almost nothing to be heard from behind him and if Booker had less faith in his team, his family, he would be of the firm belief that Nicky would not be walking behind him at all. As he always does, he brings up the rear this night too because he prefers to cover their backs. And although Booker doesn't hear anything from Nicky other than the occasional cracking of branches or the sounds of his weapons, he feels a little better knowing that Nicky's watchful eyes are on them.

When Joe stumbles so hard that he has to support himself on a tree trunk within his reach to avoid falling, Nicky glides past Booker more gracefully than he should be able to with all the equipment strapped to him.

One hand curves gently around Joe's neck, the other carefully grips his upper arm and he asks Joe a question so quietly that Booker can't hear him.

"Boss," Booker calls to signal Andy that they have stopped briefly, and the warrior immediately comes to a halt and turns around to them.

“We can't take a break. The fucking bastards who are still alive could be on our heels and I want to get to the fucking hut before the snow sets so that it can cover our tracks,” she says impatiently, but in her old eyes the hopelessness is visible that Booker currently prefers to drown with vodka.

"Andy, you have to rest," Nicky says quietly, without letting go of Joe, who no longer leans on the trunk, but practically clings to Nicky, even if he tries to look as if it doesn't cause him any problems to keep his footing. "Major injuries take their toll and it is not advisable to ignore your body's signals."

The fact that he speaks so steadfastly and confidently is in stark contrast to the blood that covers most of his face like a grotesque mask. Head wounds have a habit of bleeding like a stabbed pig, and although Nicky's cut was relatively small and healed quickly, the residue is all too obvious.

“It's not wise to take a break while these fuckers might be after us. We pretty much ruined their day because they lost their hostages through us and if they want revenge, I don't feel like dying in this motherfucking forest.”

The effect of her words does not go unnoticed: a muscle in Nicky's jaw twitches, Joe lowers his head as if he wants to hide and Booker can't suppress a jerk of his hands. The truth of Andy's words is like salt in a wound that cannot heal. And it shows Booker how much damage they have done today instead of helping.

The innocent are dead and those who deserve to die may hunt them down because they lost their wares to the immortals.

If Booker's stomach wasn't empty, he might throw up. Purely on principle.

Nicky doesn't look satisfied, but he doesn't argue, and Booker believes this is just because of Andy's demeanor, which is so crooked as if she could feel all her millennia to the core.

They start moving again and Booker is tempted to hold his backpack in front of him to protect himself from the razor-sharp wind that makes his eyes water. After a few meters, Joe sways slightly in front of him, but before Booker can move to help him, Nicky is already at Joe's side.

“Tesoro, you are tired. Give your body a break,” Booker hears him say.

Joe makes an indefinable hand gesture that was originally supposed to be a wave aside sign. "I'm fine," he mumbles, blinking like an owl. Booker, who knows what a deep sleeper Joe is, grimaces sympathetically. “I can go on in five minutes. Just five mnts...” The last sentence is so mumbled that Booker can only understand the content from the context.

Five minutes later, Nicky carries Joe piggyback, his own backpack on the front of his chest. Joe's faint protests are silent now, his head resting on Nicky's right shoulder and his curls brushing Nicky's cheek regularly in the rhythm of his steps.

How Nicky doesn't even falter despite his sword, the two backpacks, the sniper rifle and Joe with his scimitar, is a mystery to Booker, but it is very likely that Joe is the reason. And this tender consideration from Nicky for the love of his life on his back causes a bittersweet pain in Booker's chest.

He breathes on, however, and is relieved that the memories of his wife and babies are not surfacing in addition to today's shit and that the pain goes away as soon as it comes.

Booker really doesn't begrudge Joe and Nicky their relationship, despite the occasional touch of envy, for the two never behave cruelly, never rub their love under anyone's nose, and embrace everyone in their aura of joy. Booker is one of those people lucky enough to experience love from them. In the form of the jokes and hugs from Joe, the derisive comments and headbutts from Andy and the barely visible smiles and blankets that Nicky carefully puts over him when Booker has drunk himself into a coma again.

He is not alone in the sinking ship that the world seems to be from time to time. But sometimes it feels like that.

Because Nicky now carries Joe on his back, he has taken his position in their formation and even if Booker is not often at the tail, he has nothing to complain about. Having no one behind you has the advantage of being able to think about it without having to pay attention to how you appear to the outside world.

It's not the first time Nicky has carried Joe because he's too tired, and Booker has seen it the other way around, albeit not very often. Nicky doesn't retire until he's made sure they're safe and everyone is fine, but when he was injured so badly that he couldn't walk alone and they had to leave, Booker got the chance to watch Joe carrying Nicky.

The familiarity with which the two deal with each other always tells of the length of their relationship without needing words and it is equally fascinating and frightening: fascinating because they are the only people in this world who have been together for centuries and have reached a depth in their connection that no one will ever reach and scary because Booker doesn't want to find out what happens when one of them ultimately dies and leaves the other behind.

Nicky's lowered voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and he is happy about it, preferring to concentrate on something other than his head and what is in it. "Andy, please wait.”

Her leader walks two more meters before she complies with Nicky's request and turns her head to them with a raised eyebrow in question. "What is it?"

Instead of answering her, Nicky turns to Booker and the request in his bright eyes is so clear that, for once, he doesn't have to put it into words for Booker. "If that goes wrong, you'll pick up my remains," Booker grumbles so quietly that Andy can't hear him as he walks past Nicky.

Andy takes note of his approach in silence, but then rolls her eyes when he stops next to her and takes his backpack from his back to put it on his chest like Nicky. "Fuck off, Book. I don't need to be carried.”

Andy's hard shell is easy to see through with centuries of practice and Booker sees her exhaustion as clearly as if it was broad daylight and the lines of tiredness had been circled with a marker on Andy's face. It's no wonder Nicky spotted the signs long before Booker. When it comes to their family, he never misses anything.

“I know you don't need to be carried. You don't have to tell me,” Booker replies casually, but makes no move to put his backpack back on its proper spot. "But we both know who wins when Nicky has a say in this matter, and what we need least at the moment is a discussion with that stubborn man." They both know what Booker is doing, but Andy doesn't address it and Booker pretends not to notice that she got it. "So, it would only be beneficial if we could avoid these problems by letting me carry you, even if you don't need help, right?"

As Booker follows her gaze backwards, Nicky's focus is not on them, but on the sleeping Joe, whom he carefully pushes higher on his back to get a better grip on his legs. But it is no secret that Nicky was still following their exchange closely.

With a low growl, Andy lets out a sharp gush of air through her nose, which rises into the sky in clouds of steam. “For fuck's sake, fine. But if you drop me, I'll break your nose.”

Booker coughs a strange kind of a dead laugh. "Got it." It's not the first time he's carried Andy either, during missions there is no time to make out who is carrying whom with which injury and when she climbs onto his back, he finds her warmth a little comforting.

Read more on AO3 ;)

[eleventhdoctorsangel]

If only I knew what my heart was telling me

Summary: Living in Arcadia I never thought that living below the city was a city of trolls. Now it seems that everyone or everything trying to end to the world in Arcadia. But despite all of that i knew that I could always count on the friends in my life to help me. But now the world is coming to an end again but this time it just might actually happen.

“I don’t know Claire. It was just the past Douxie that called me pretty.” I said. “If the past Douxie thinks you’re pretty than I’m sure our Douxie thinks you’re pretty too.” Claire said. “When we get back to our time I’ll talk to him” I said. The party kept riding until we reached Killahead Bridge where we came to a stop. Lancelot got off his horse and drew his sword as he started to look around hoping to find one of the escaped prisoners. I looked over to Claire who had the same look that I did. Hoping that Lancelot wouldn’t find anyone. Then Lancelot started making his way over to a tree when Jim was pushed out from behind a tree. “Aha! Oh he-hello!” Jim said waving at us “Get them!” Arthur yelled. Everyone started to chase them. Claire and I chased them. Then I say Douxie and Archie ride past us. My horse came to a stop in front of a creepy looking woods. “They’ve entered the wild wood. Abandon the horses. We head on foot.” Arthur said. I swung my foot around hoping down from my horse. “Forget him. Stick to the plan.” I heard Douxie say as I saw Merlin walked past me. Well this could be better. “I’ll take the king.” Douxie said as he hopped down from his horse. “I’ll cover Morgana.” Claire said. “I’ll keep us all from dying.” I said. “And let’s just focus on getting these royal siblings to hug and make up.” Archie said. “And not die.” Claire said. “Uh yes that too.” Archie said. “How could you have forgotten that Archie.” I said as I helped Claire down from her horse. Archie jumped down for Douxie’s shoulder as Douxie walked up to Arthur and Steve finally caught up to us. “About time Steve.” I said as Claire followed Morgana. “What are those two doing?” Steve asked. “Trying to get Arthur and Morgana to make up.” I said. “Easier said than done.” Steve said. “You’re telling me.” I said.

No Ones POV

After and try and fail from both Claire and Douxie. Douxie had to think up of another way to the Morgana and Arthur to make up to save the timeline so the four of them can get back to their timeline. “Mm not much love left between them. If only you could make him remember that good old days.” Archie said as he a Douixe came across a tree with Arthur, Gwen and Morgana names carved into it then jumped off of Douxie’s shoulder. “Maybe I can.” Douxie said putting his hand on the tree as magic came from his cuff and turned the carved names glow blue then went back to normal. Douxix turned around to face Arthur. “Say my liege didn’t you used to spend time in this wood?” Douxie asked but already knowing the answer. “Yes. As a boy. Much time was lost in this accursed forest. I often fled to these woods to escape form growing responsibilities.” Arthur said walking over to tree. Douxie moved closer to Claire as Arthur had touched the tree so it would start to so the enchantment that Douxie put on it. Arthur let out a gasp as blue light emerged from the tree causing the other knights to cry in fear. The sounds of children laugher could be heard. Merlin looked over to Douxie knowing that he must have been the one to cause this. Douxie looked at Merlin giving him the sign of the horns while sticking his tongue out. Merlin rolled his eyes and let out a scoff. “Stand down. We’re not in danger. Uh my lord.” Merlin said as he walked up to Arthur but Arthur had put his sword up stopping Merlin from coming any closer to him. The three children came out from behind the tree. “Gwen. My betrothed. My beloved. She was the heart of me.” Arthur said as the children chased each other around then the little brother carved the names into the tree. The two little girls ran through Morgana. “Mm we loved these woods. The freedom they offered. The wood showed us kindness for our courage. Gwen and I were never scared. ” Morgana said. As everyone watched the children version of Gwen and Morgana as they went up to Nari. Nari smiled kindly at the two as she hopped down from the rock she was on. “Arthur however.” Morgana said as the child version of Arthur went after Nari. “I knew what danger lurked in the darkness. As we grew older and duty kept me inside Morgana encouraged Gwen brought her out when she should have stayed safe within Camelot.” Arthur said as older version of Gwen and Morgana appeared. “Arthur always blamed me for our moonlight trips. But that night it was Gwen pulling me out of the door.” Morgana said as Gwen tripped over a root and fell into a hole below. Douxie had glanced over to Y/n who was standing by Steve watching the story unfold. “We’d stumbled into a stalking nest. It was afraid.” Morgana. “That night Gwen went into the woods and never returned. You sister should have known better.” Arthur said. “You never forgave me. And when my own gifts blossomed you saw yet another abomination. Ordered Merlin to teach me to control that part of me though Gwen loved magic as I did.” Morgana said as she walked up to the projection of Gwen creating a flower with her magic. Arthur following behind her. “Yes. Yes she did. I. I miss her terribly.” Arthur said as the projection that Douxie casted faded. “As do I brother.” Morgana said as she and Arthur looked at each other. Arthur gave her a small smile in return. Douxie and Claire quickly turned around to check the time map. The timeline were both Arthur and Morgana lived was still up. “It’s working.” Douxie said. At that moment Lancelot came running back. “Troll! We found one!” Lancelot cried out. Arthur let out a growl. “I will lose no one else to those creatures. To arms.” Arthur said walking away from Morgana. Then the time map went back to show the timeline where Arthur will die. “No no no no no! Not now!” Douxie said. “Oh no! Jim.” Claire said as she ran forward. Right as Douxie was about to close the time map another timeline showed up. This one now showing Y/n with the Arcane Order. Y/n no longer looked like herself. Her face was sunken in some and void of any emotion. Her eyes looked dead and almost black not the green that Douxie always loves looking into. “No no no. Oh fuzz buckets.” Douxie said. “How are you going to stop that?” Archie asked. “I don’t know Arch.” Douxie said closing the time map. “Are you going to tell her?” Archie asked. “No. I’m going to stop it so I don’t have to tell her.” Douxie said. “Yes because keeping something like this from her will definitely get her to like you more.” Archie said. “Wait do you know something I don’t Arch?” Douxie asked. “I guess they were right true love is blind.” Archie said walking away. 

End of No Ones POV 

I was standing behind Steve and Claire was next to me. I looked around to try to find Douxie but I didn’t see him. “Where’s Douxie.” I whispered to Claire. Claire also looked around. “I don’t know I could have sworn that he was right behind me.”  Claire whispered back right as Douxie and Archie caught up to us. “Steady men! Remember your training. Kill the beast!” Lancelot yelled. As the knights ran forward. “Wait kill? I thought this was catch and release!” Steve yelled as Morgana, Claire, Douxie and I ran following the knights to stop them from killing anyone. I looked to see one of Gunmar soldiers as one of the knight shout an arrow at it making it grunt out in pain. Three other knights started to put chains around it. “Take the best down.” Arthur said. “Arthur no!” Morgana cried out. “Squire Steve will you do the honors?” Lancelot asked as he threw a sword to Steve. The troll lunged at Steve making him scream as he fell back. Arthur had stepped in between them. “Careful young. Show these beats no sympathy.” Arthur said. Then Arthur kick the troll in the chest making it step backward into the sunlight. “Huzzah! Huzzah!” Arthur and the knights said lifting their swords in the air. I started to hear growling I looked over to see Bular coming out for where Steve. “Steve look out!” I screamed. Bular picked Steve up by his shoulder and threw him. “Bular the Butcher!” Lancelot call out. “The Gumm-Gumm prince himself!” Galahad said. Bular ran at Arthur. Arthur tried to hit Bular with his sword Bular jumped over him bringing out his sword swinging it at Arthur. Then everyone tried to fight him. “I’ll drink your blood out of a goblet made of your skull!” Bular said as he fought Arthur. Bular knocked Arthur sword out of his hand then knock him to the ground. Bular walked over to Arthur picking him up by the throat and slamming him against a tree. “I’ll crave you open let your guts spill out!” Bular said. “My king.” Galahad yelled. “Arthur!” Lancelot yelled. Bular drew his sword back then tried to stab Arthur but I used my magic to stop his sword and Douxie was using his to keep Bular’s arm in place. “There’s no spilling anything today!” Douxie yelled. Merlin used his magic to create a seal as Douxie pull Bular back trapping him in the seal. Bular they to get out but didn’t. “Finish it then fleshbag!” Bular yelled. “The spwan of Gunmar. I won’t dull Excalibur’s edge with you.” Arthur said as he picked up his sword walking over to Bular and kicked him in the face. Bular let out a grunt. “Drag this monster back to Camelot! I have plans for him. The rest with me! My blade hungers.” Arthur said putting Excalibur up in the air. “As you wish milord. Onward!” Lancelot said. “Who’s the monster here?” Morgana said.

We walked for a bit before Lancelot found some tracks. “These tracks are fresh! The other beasts can’t be far milord. Best we spread out flank them!” Lancelot said as he got up. “Go.” Arthur said as the knight that were left started to go looking for the other trolls.  As Morgana and Claire walked past him Arthur stopped them. “And you time to pick a side. You would do well not to return with a clean sword.” Arthur said. Morgana glared at him as she walked away. Morgana, Claire, Douxie and Merlin went one way while I went with Steve, Lancelot, Galahad and Arthur. For some reason they had let Steve take the lead. “Great we’re going to die,” I said quietly to myself as we came to a path I didn’t like to look of. “This area is dangerous but there’s no way around.” Lancelot said. Steve cleared his throat. “Fear not for Steve will scout the enemy base.” Steve said walking forward. “Hold squire. Watch out for the.” Lancelot said. But Steve had went ahead walking forward setting off traps that sent Porcupine like needles shooting at Steve. I heard everyone wince. Then it turned into laughter from Lancelot and Galahad. Arthur looked done with this all. I was just used to Steve being well Steve. Steve finally fell face first into the ground. “That one’s gotta hurt!” Galahad said as he and Lancelot with up to Steve each one grabbing an arm. “Well done Squire Steve. Now the path’s clear.” Lancelot said as he and Galahad start dragging Steve along. “I love you guys. You guys are my best friends.” Steve said. After we got through that path came getting those needles out of Steve. Which they looked to me to get them out. Lancelot and Galahad got Steve into a standing up position. I let out a breathe as I cross my arms into a x form then quickly broke them apart as my magic ripped out a the needles at once making Steve whimper in pain. “Sorry about that Steve I tried to make it as painless as I could.” I said. “No no. I get it.” Steve said still in pain. Lancelot walked away. Steve and I followed him. From where we were I could see Jim with that female troll that he escaped with. “But you see? They’re not all bad.” Jim said. “Shh I’ve got one in my sights.” Lancelot said to Steve and I. “This one’s sort of sweet.” The female troll said. “uh oh no what do I do, what do I do?” Steve said. Making me roll my eyes. “Such conflict. Oh snap! Uh mosquito!” Steve yelled smacking Lancelot in the face. Which made Lancelot release the arrow. But the time I tried to use my magic the change the direction to the arrow it had already hit the female troll. “Clumsy jackanapes!” Lancelot yelled at Steve. Lancelot tried to shot another arrow but Steve did the same thing. I took that to sneak away. I had jumped down to the ground below using my magic to soften the fall and not break my legs. I ran toward where Jim and the female troll ran to. I saw Jim on the ground. “Jim.” I said. Jim had turned to look at me and I saw that his eyes were red.  

Taglist: @cinamonroll-uwu16​ @nerlea​ @wondermia69​ @lovedouxie​ @purplesinnerw​ @sitherin-mxschief​ @douxiesdamsel​ 

Overall Taglist: @the-broken-halo-writer

[buckysforeverprincess]

Can Our Love Survive? Ch. 18

James “Bucky” Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Clint Barton, Sarah Rogers

Words: 1691

Warnings: Coming out, family acceptance

A/N: I’m so sorry I’m behind with this. I’m still going to try to get the regularly scheduled chapter out as well today, if not I promise you’ll get it this week. This chapter is kind of a filler but with everything it serves a purpose. I hope you enjoy it and I promise you more to come!

**TAG LIST FOR THIS SERIES IS CLOSED**

The time leading up to Thanksgiving seemed to fly by in your household. Bucky had gone back to school, the two of you being open about your relationship and weren’t willing to hide anything from anyone. If anyone didn’t know the reason for the renewed smile on your face, they either had their heads in the sand or weren’t paying attention to the rumor mill and you honestly didn’t care. Life was on the up for you and Bucky was the reason for it. It’d been a long time since you’d felt this level of happiness within you.

Steve and Bucky had made their way to Bucky's house to clean up one day after school and grab some of the things he didn’t want to leave behind. Steve had told him to grab whatever he wanted, and they’d make it fit in his room. Most of Bucky's possessions were clothes, but there were a few things that held sentimental value and if his dad had his way, he'd toss them, so he thought to take some stuff and be done, letting his dad discard the rest. It really didn’t matter to Bucky if he never had to come back or deal with his dad ever again, he’d be content to live his life parent free. Your boyfriend said he was determined to have a good life despite the people who were responsible for his existence.

Thanksgiving Day arrived and you spent all day either helping your mom or cuddling with Bucky. You didn't have any other family, so you guys always stayed home and watched tv or played games together to pass the time. However, this year was different and there was another person to add to share your small traditions with, hoping this would be the first of many things your family would share with Bucky going forward as your relationship with the brunette grew stronger.

Dinner was in the oven and your mom was in the kitchen, working on an apple pie for your twin. Bucky and you were sitting on the couch, cuddling and watching tv, when you heard a knock at the front door. “I'll get it,” you said, removing yourself from your boyfriend's embrace and getting up from the couch, making your way to the sound. It was a holiday and you weren’t expecting anyone, so there’s no telling who’s standing outside waiting.

Opening the door, you see a blond staring back at you; his hands in his pockets, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “Clinton. To what do we owe this pleasure?” You smirk and lean up against the door frame.

 “Is uh, Steve here?”

 Oh, this is good. “I don't know. It depends.” You shrug and grin, toying with the boy in front of you.

 “Um, depends on what?” Clint scrunches up his face, uncertainty written on his face.

 “On what your intentions are with my brother.” You cross your arms to your chest.

“Baby!” Bucky comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. “Leave him alone,” he kisses your temple and grins at Clint, “you're making him nervous.”

 You smiled at Clint. “He should be! If he’s here, then he’s about to be introduced to my mother as Steve's boyfriend. I'd sure as hell be nervous if I was him You were!”

Bucky let's out a laugh. “Well I had just kicked a guy’s ass in her kitchen. Not something you want to associate with the guy your daughter is dating.”

“You know?!” Clint looks at you surprised, his mouth wide open.

 “Of course, I know! I'm Steve's sister, why wouldn't I?”

 “Cause, he said he never told anyone. So that means your boyfriend must've told you!” Clint held an accusing look at Bucky.

 “Oh no! No way! I never said a word!”  Bucky quickly defends himself.

Before anything else can be said, Steve pushes his way through the door and looks around at everyone, his eyes fixate a little too long on Clint. “Uh, you guys gonna eat out here too?”

 “Actually, I plan to stay right here and harass your boyfriend. I love to see him blush.”  

Steve’s eyes go wide in shock, and steps out of the house, shutting the door behind him. “Y/N! What the fuck?! How'd you know?” There's panic written all over his face.

 You scoff at your twin and shake your head. “Please, you do realize you suck at secrets, right?”

The door opens and your mom looks out, glaring at the four of you. “I've got food, hot and ready. If the four of you don't get in here now, I will lock this door and you will spend the night under the stars while I get fat and happy and send the leftovers to the hospital.”  She turns and walks away leaving you all standing on the doorstep.

It doesn’t take long before your group all make your way into the house and to the kitchen, seeing the meal spread out in no particular order. The food looks and smells amazing and you’re so stupidly hungry that your stomach growls just looking at it all.  

“Mom…,” Steve’s standing next to Clint, looking at Sarah who's grabbing the basket of rolls and placing them on the table.

 “Hmmmm?” She's looking at Steve with her eyebrows raised. The look on her face almost giving herself away, but not quite.

“So… um… you know Clint, right?”

 Clint waves at your mom. “Hi Mrs. Rogers.” She nods at him in return and goes back to setting out silverware for the feast.

 Steve smiles and continues, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck. “Maybe I should introduce him properly.”

 Your mom stops and looks up at Steve with a quirked eyebrow. “Properly?”

 “Well… uh, see Clint… he's uh, he's…,” Clint reaches out and places his hand on Steve's arm, in a sign of endearment, making him smile down at Clint and take in a deep breath. “Mom, meet my boyfriend.”  

“Fucking finally!” Sarah says and goes back to setting food on the table. “I didn't think you were gonna spit it out. Can we eat before the food gets cold?” You and Bucky start to laugh and sit down at the table, leaving Steve standing looking confused at the demeanor of your mom.  

“You're not upset?”  

 “Why would I be?” Sarah replies and you stick your hand out, directly in her face. Your mom groans and takes a twenty dollar bill out of her pocket, placing it in your hand. “Thought you'd never tell us. Known it for years. I kinda thought you were interested in Bucky, the way he was always around, but that went in the shitter when those two started dating.”  

“You had a thing for Bucky?” Clint asks, pretending to be offended. “Is that why I could never come around when he was over?”

 Steve starts blushing, his face beat red. “No! I swear Clint, he was always just a friend! I’d never be the guy who cheats… hold the fuck up, you two had a bet?!” The realization hits him like a ton of bricks.

 Sarah's the one to laugh now. “Actually, the three of us had a bet…,” she's pointing between you, Bucky and herself, “we all bet twenty bucks. I said you'd come out around spring break, she chose Thanksgiving and Bucky said New Year’s.”

 “The twin for the win!” You announce and grab a roll, setting it on your plate.

 Bucky leans into your ear and whispers, “I'll pay you later.”

“Unfuckingbelievable! My own family is against me!” Steve pouts and throws himself down in a chair, being hella overdramatic.

“Aww sweetheart, don't get so salty. They're just having fun.” Clint sits next to his boyfriend.

 Your mom chuckles and brings over the platter of turkey and sets is down directly in the middle of the table. She then sits in her own chair and looks around at everyone gathered around for the holiday meal. No one touches anything, the four of you waiting on Sarah to say grace. Even if you weren't a Rogers, you'd best know that Sarah takes grace very seriously, and the shit will pop off if you touch anything before the matriarch says o’n.  

“Bucky, Clint, welcome.” She starts and smiles softly at the two newcomers. “This is the first of many holidays you'll probably spend in our home. You'll always have a place here at this table, as long as you're good to my kids. They've both been through a lot, and I'm sure you have too. Mi casa, su casa. You'll always be family here.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Rogers.” Bucky replies

 “Yes, thank you.” Clint follows suit and Steve grabs his boyfriends’ hand and gives it a squeeze.

Sarah gives a knowing look and you all join hands, your mother ready to bless this meal. “Dear Dia, thank you for this food we are about to receive and the hands that helped prepare it. Thank you for the blessing of my two children, who make every day worth living and many thanks for allowing us to still be together to share this blessed day. This past year has been a rough one Dia, but you've seen us though and we will forever be in your debt. Thank you for the newcomers to our table and the relationships they have formed with Steve and Y/N, and may you continue to bless them as they go forward in love and life. And thank you James, for finding our Y/N and bringing her back into the light from the darkness within. You'll never know how much it means to both Steve and I to see her smiling face again. We have so many other things to be thankful for Dia, and our family will always be grateful and will never take a single thing for granted. In his name we pray, O’N.”

 “O’N” Steve and you reply.

 “Amen.” Bucky and Clint say in unison.

“Fies!” Sarah happily declares and the four of you dig in and start loading up your plates, Thanksgiving at the Rogers home ready to commence.

Irish

*Dia-Lord

* o’n-amen  

*fies-feast

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[chicagocityfclanspromoblog]

Sam Thompson → Joe Manganiello → Moose

→ Basic Information

Age: 227

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Born or Made: Born

Birthday: April 26th

Zodiac Sign: Taurus

Religion: Christian

→ His Personality (one to two paragraphs)

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: Broker and External Liaison and Board Member

Scars: Scratches and Bite marks from his kids and other members of the clan

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Sports Cars and Rough housing

Two Dislikes: Silent Films and “Trendy” home finishes

Two Fears: Poison and Dishonoring his family name

Two Hobbies: Weight lifting and Golfing

Three Positive Traits: Macho, Perceptive, Disciplined

Three Negative Traits: Vindictive, Uncharitable, Argumentative

→ His Connections

Parent Names:

Sterling Thompson (Father): Sterling was one of the original Board Members. He was the last one standing between Garland Fields and the leadership position. He lost, and the shame followed him the rest of his life. Behind closed doors, Sterling preached to Sam about the importance of taking Chicago back and made Sam promise to continue their legacy the night he died. Sam wants to live up to all of his father’s hopes.

Charlotte Thompson (Mother): Charlotte was a good mother and was alive long enough to see Rhett born. She cared about Sam and wanted him to live his life for himself, not Sterling. She often calmed him down whenever his anger would get the best of him.

Sibling Names:

None

Children Names:

Rhett Thompson (Son): Rhett is 12 going on 30. He reminds Sam a lot of himself growing up. It is Rhett’s first year in middle school, he has taken up football and golfing while keeping his grades up. Sam is very proud and excited for his son.

Delilah ‘Dee’ Thomson (Daughter): Delilah has just turned 10 years old and is Ford’s twin sister. It was a long and hard process for Dee, giving up having Rhett in the same school, making it a tougher transition year for Sam. Dee is naturally curious and nearly drove Sam insane asking for her mother when Mattie was killed. She reminds him too much of Mattie. If it wasn’t for Patrick, Sam doesn’t think he could be the father she needed at the time. She loves her Uncle Pat.

Ford Thompson (Son): Ford has just turned 10 years old and is Delilah’s twin brother. Ford has always been easier to deal with. Delilah has always been more outspoken while Ford stood back and watched the room. Ford prefers to sit in a corner and read all day. Sam usually has to drag him away from his book and is regretting replacing one of their hallway closets for a miniature library.

Savannah Thompson (Daughter): Savannah is Sam’s little angel and is currently 8 and a half years old. Sam wants nothing but the best for all of his children but he worries about Savannah sometimes. She is sweet and innocent, all rainbow, unicorns and butterflies but Sam doesn’t have the heart to give her a reality check.

Jasper Thompson (Son): Jasper was barely walking or talking when Mattie was taken from them. Jason remained shifted for weeks as if he felt her being taken from them. It took time and patience for Jasper to change back but Sam’s smiling toddler never returned. Nearly four years later and starting Elementary school, Jasper is the most aggressive and dangerous child Sam has ever met. He had to remove him out of his classes just two weeks in to start homeschooling him.

Romantic Connections:

Mattie Thompson (Late Wife): Life is cruel and Sam has always known that but when he met Mattie, he believed his world was changing for the best. It was everything Sam joked and teased other members of his pack that were mated about. At one point Sam lost all interest in challenging Clara. Mattie was young but she loved him and they were married quickly. She even blessed him with a son within a year of their marriage, twins two years laters, and two more within the span of five years. Unfortunately, Mattie only ever felt comfortable in her shifted form when pregnant, and developed a case of hypershift extraordinarily young. Sam had barely come to terms with it when the other Board Members ordered her to be put down. The only one who tried to stand with him was Eliza, but they were ultimately overruled by the others and the law. Clara ultimately fulfilled the sentence and killed her 4 years ago. Sam has had to pour all his love for Mattie into their children in order to keep hanging on.

Platonic Connections:

Patrick Perry (Best Friend): Patrick has been a good friend of his for decades, and is like an uncle to his kids. They hang out nearly every weekend as well as every holiday, and he considers him to be his closest confidante. It was Patrick who stopped him from attacking Clara after Mattie’s death and the one who has kept him pushing through. His kids refer to Patrick as Uncle Pat.

Eliza Meyers (Good Friend): Eliza has consistently been the only one in his corner. She was close to Mattie and introduced the two, and he doesn’t know where his life would have been without her. They work together in real estate and in the boardroom, playing off of one another’s strengths and supporting the other’s weaknesses. His kids refer to Eliza as Auntie El or Aunt Eliza.

Taye Black (Friend): Taye has a no nonsense personality that Sam enjoys. Taye can easily drop friendships and fire personnel without a blink of an eye; which Sam admires. They both share the job as clan heavies liaison. While Sam deals with the local supernatural clans, Taye focuses on finding and placing matches for endangered heavies or for those who are willing to have hybrids.

Asa Fields (Old Friend): Asa and Sam grew up as brothers, and stayed like that. He never seemed to have the same issues with Asa as he did Clara, despite them being raised the same. However, he does think Asa has no claim to any council seat, or at least not a legitimate one. He’s hoping that by getting Asa to attempt to overthrow his sister, he’d willingly hand off the responsibilities of head to Sam, and live out the rest of his life doing whatever. Sam is trying to gauge how the relationship is between the two to see if that’d work.

Latasha Mist (Friend): Sam is supportive of Cece and Latasha’s change and sees the advantages of having them on their side. He has tried to come up with multiple solutions that wouldn’t result in their deaths but has yet to find one.

Cecilia ‘Cece’ Mist (Friend): Sam has been supportive of Cece’s change, even before her mother offered millions of dollars for the change. The couple has been together for over three year and the entire pack knows of their relationship. Sam believes further delay of the inevitable is bad for their entire clan and other local supernatural clans.

Jalen Martinez (Friendly): Sam thinks that Jalen has made a great choice by choosing Cece. While Sam communicates with Cece and Latasha more, Jalen has his full support. The couple has been together for over three year and the entire pack knows of their relationship. Sam believes further delay of the inevitable is bad for their entire clan and other local supernatural clans.

Ellis Watts (Old Friend): Sam and Ellis used to party hard in the 20s together. Ellis had a wild streak and the two would race cars, bikes, and boats with one another. They’ve still maintained the friendliness, though both have grown up.

Percy McCormick III (Old Acquaintance): Percy grew up around the same time as Clara, Sam, and Asa. Even back then he had a knack of trying to trick the three of them with lies. His dad always had the biggest and best of everything, and their clan always seemed to be growing. Sam and Asa ditched him quickly as they grew up, but Clara tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. He’s done alright for himself, and Sam speaks to him as a liaison now.

Sol Alfaro (Old Friend): Sol shares many of his frustrations with his own clan head, and he has been girding himself to challenge Isaac again.

Michael Shaw (Acquaintance): They often hit the gym together on weekends.

Hostile Connections:

Clara Fields (Hate): Clara and Sam grew up like siblings; both nearly the same age and constantly around one another. However, as they grew up the differences between the Fields and Sterlings became obvious. The Fields had best picks of lands and businesses and were starting to make their money hand over fists. They also had final say on every issue, as was mandated by the agreement, and were using it to their benefit. Eventually the wealth of the Fields began to trickle down to them until they were in as good of a position, and Sterling forced a vote to create joint businesses, whose money was pooled and equally distributed to the Board Members. Things began to settle into something comfortable and profitable for all when Garland kicked the bucket. Sterling and the other leaders assumed it was finally his time, but Clara took up the helm and snatched power before anyone else could call for a fair fight. Sterling died not too long after from Hypershift and Sam took his spot. Then started the constant back and forth between the two of them. Always, always opposed, Clara and Sam began a dance of intrigue and backstabbing, trying to get the other to falter. Then the economy collapsed and Real Estate died in its tracks. Clara and the rest of them were bleeding money and had no place to turn. She thought of the vampires and came back with an offer of their blood. Initially they all refused, but had no other options. Either let their clan dissolve or sacrifice what they needed to. He was the first person to stand behind her and support the call. He regrets it to this day, and it’s his main reason for wanting her out of the Leader’s seat. He has been working for decades to plant seeds of doubt into the various members of their clan, so when he takes over it’s well received.

Michael Johansen (Hate): Michael was the leader of the Alaska clan who merged with their clan a few months ago. Their numbers were too low to sustain themselves and the Chicago clan was the only one that had the most potential matches. As soon as Sam met Michael, he had an air around him that reminded him of  Clara’s father, Garland Fields. Sam has been on defense around him and doesn’t trust Michael one bit.

Scorpius Getta (Hate): Scorpius Getta made a blood deal with them in exchange for money during the Great Recession. They needed to stay afloat so the entire Board agreed to it. They assumed they could pay him back the loan with interest, but he just wants money. In his dreams, Sam kills Getta and all his cronies.

Petra Chak (Hate): She enjoys the humiliation of the board members as they go down to have their blood drained. She’d be the one he’d kill if he had a chance to, after Getta.

Ezra Schultz (Hate): He expected Ezra to be on his side, and was shocked that he ruled to have her killed. His archaic ideas of “justness” are ridiculous and shouldn’t be used when lives are at stake.

Hollis Sony (Hate): Hollis stabbed him in the back when she voted that Mattie had to die. She’d always been on Clara’s side and he thought she might have sympathy for him, but was proven very wrong. He’ll never forgive her.

Pets:

None

→ History (paragraph(s) on background) → The Present (paragraph(s) on how the character connects to the plot)

→ Available Gif Hunts (we do not own these)

Joe Manganiello (Sam Thompson) [1][2][3][4]

[musicprincess655]

Everything hurts. Everything is too bright, everything is too loud, and it hurts.

Chuuya winces away from the guard that grabs at his arm, closing his eyes as he’s pulled along. The darkness is a little better, but his exhaustion threatens to make him drop to his knees right here.

“Keep up,” the guard complains, yanking him so hard he stumbles. Chuuya snarls under his breath. “What was that?”

Chuuya could put this man through a wall if he wanted. He’s strong enough for it. If only he wasn’t chained within an inch of his life. He’s never once been able to break through these chains.

Through half-lidded vision, Chuuya stumbles the rest of the way back to the cell that’s been his home for longer than he can properly remember. He was free once, he knows it to be true. Knows it to be true, but can’t remember it, because this place has stolen over all his memories. Time means nothing in a place like this, a lab with no sunlight and no windows and no way to track time.

In fact, the only reason Chuuya knows that he’s fifteen is because he heard one of the scientists mention it in the session they had today.

He’s already fifteen, shouldn’t he be ready for the next round of enhancements?

It’s a sentence that drives cold fear through Chuuya’s veins. Every time it’s said, he gets strapped down to a table and cut open and ripped apart. At the end of it, he’s got some new level of strength, and that’s when the worst part begins.

See, the scientists don’t seem to quite know what their enhancements do. And that means, once they perform them on Chuuya, they have to test them out. Chuuya resists, of course, because he has his pride, and that’s when the true pain starts.

He always expects to get used to it with time, and never does.

This time, they had him lifting heavier and heavier objects until his body gave out, and his limbs are still shaking from it, and from the electric shocks the scientists used to force him when he refused. He just wants to lie down and sleep.

The guard throws him into his cell, and Chuuya stumbles for a few steps before he rights himself, crashing heavily on the bottom bunk of a bed he has all to himself. It’s maybe the only perk he has left; no roommate. There’s still a few hours left until lights out, the room bright with white LEDs set into the ceiling, but that’s nothing a pillow over his face can’t fix.

Chuuya tries to get comfortable, but it’s difficult considering how his chains hold his wrists and ankles close together, only giving his hands a small bit of slack from his waist. It’s just more proof that if he could slip these chains, he could leave this hellhole easily. They wouldn’t bother keeping him chained up if it didn’t matter. The walls must not be made of the same sturdy stuff the chains are.

Just as Chuuya starts to doze off, the door swings open. He groans. They can’t possibly expect another round of testing from him now, can they? Maybe he’ll make another break for it. They take off his chains to see the full extent of his abilities, and they control him with an electric shock collar. Maybe if he’s fast enough, he can break out before they can catch him.

“Stay here and stay out of trouble.”

Chuuya’s eyes snap open when he hears clumsy feet tripping over themselves. He sits up so fast blood rushes to his head, and when his vision clears, there’s someone else in the room with him as the guard slams the door shut.

“Or don’t,” the guard continues his thought. “Maybe if you start shit, he’ll just kill you and save us all the trouble of dealing with you.”

Well. That’s plenty of reason for Chuuya to not lay a finger on this kid. He’s all for doing things out of spite.

And it is a kid, now that Chuuya looks at him properly. Messy brown hair that hangs in his face and over his collar, limbs that have the awkwardness of being newly grown in, far too skinny from a growth spurt that must have been recent. Big, brown, innocent eyes. He’s fourteen or fifteen, certainly no older than Chuuya. Dusting himself off, he finally takes Chuuya in, intelligence in his expression belying how innocent he’s trying to make his eyes look. He’s pretty, in a way that wouldn’t get him noticed.

Chuuya braces himself to have to comfort this kid. He’s not great with children – or at least, he doesn’t think he is, but it’s been a long time since he’s had the chance to try. He’s not a particularly comforting person. But having someone his own age might make this place a little more bearable. It’s worth a shot, anyway.

“Hi,” Chuuya says, trying to modulate his voice so he sounds inviting. It comes out a little gruff but not unfriendly, which he counts as a win. “What’s your name?”

“I wanted the bottom bunk,” the kid whines, and all of Chuuya’s hopes for a companion – or, even, maybe, a friend – drain away.

“I asked you a question,” Chuuya grits out, all attempts at friendliness gone.

“Dazai Osamu,” the kid says. He eyes Chuuya, assessing. “I bet I could move you if I wanted.”

Chuuya snorts. Dazai might be bigger than him, but that doesn’t mean shit. Even without all the enhancements, Chuuya knows he used to be a street kid. He knows how to fight. Dazai has the kind of fine elegance in his movements that betray a spoiled upbringing. Chuuya would be surprised if Dazai’s ever been in a fight in his life.

“Go ahead and try,” he taunts.

And despite the clear intelligence in his eyes, Dazai goes straight in, like he thinks he can just throw Chuuya to the ground and plant himself on the bottom bunk and be done with it. Chuuya has very limited range of motion, but he can still lift his legs and kick Dazai clear across the room. His back hits the wall, and he drops with a startled sound that makes Chuuya feel the slightest bit bad. Just because Dazai annoys him, it’s not really a fair reason to seriously hurt him.

Dazai lifts his head, and rather than the anger Chuuya expects to see, his eyes are alight with interest, trained only on Chuuya.

“You’re one of the experiments!” he exclaims. “What are they doing to you?”

“Uh,” Chuuya tries, because it’s the last thing he expected. Does Dazai know about this place? How does Dazai know about this place?

How does a rich citizen of No. 6 even end up in this place?

“I was so close to finding out what they were doing here,” Dazai complains. “And now you can fill me in!”

“Uh,” Chuuya tries again.

“Did they make you stupid?” Dazai asks. “Can’t you say anything else, slug?”

“Excuse me?” Chuuya snaps. “I have a name!”

“News to me.”

“My name’s Chuuya!”

“Just Chuuya?”

“Just Chuuya.” If he has a family name, he doesn’t remember it. Well, whatever. He can pick one for himself if he wants. It’s not like he remembers any family he’ll disappoint by doing so.

“Well then, Chuuya, what are they doing to you here?” Dazai asks. Chuuya bristles at the way his name drips off Dazai’s tongue. He somehow managed to make it sound as mocking as slug did.

Dazai is clearly someone used to getting his way. He might even be charming, if he puts his mind to it. It just makes Chuuya want to deny him more.

Still. What the hell else does he have to talk about? And maybe if he gives Dazai something, they can both shut up and go to sleep, and Chuuya’s exhaustion is still making itself known.

“Some kind of enhancements,” Chuuya says. “Superstrength.”

“Really?” Dazai asks, looking him up and down. “How?”

“Injections or something, fuck if I know,” Chuuya says. It’s his best guess, based off the wounds he has when he gets put under and wakes up with whatever new enhancement they’ve given him. “Then they test out what they’ve done.”

“How?”

“Mostly by making me pick stuff up, but they test my endurance too.”

Those days are the hardest. Chuuya’s made to run until he collapses, shocked every time he tries to stop. Once, they got it in their head that Chuuya might be immune to extreme temperatures. He isn’t. He still has the scars on his hands.

“They make you run in those chains?” Dazai asks.

“No, of course not,” Chuuya snorts.

“Then why don’t you leave when they take them off?” Dazai asks. “Or is your superstrength just shitty?”

“Wanna try it?” Chuuya threatens. “Obviously, they don’t just let me go free, dumbass. I’d love to see you escape with your whole body seizing up with electricity.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll never escape here,” Dazai says. “This is the most secure place in No. 6, I had a hell of a time even trying to hack in to see their data.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Chuuya asks. Dazai nods, turning his attention to examining all corners of the tiny room. There’s nothing much to see besides the bunk beds and the toilet and sink in the corner. “Why were you trying to hack into this place?”

“Because it was interesting,” Dazai says with a shrug. “Life is so boring out there, Chuuya. It makes me want to die.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” White hot anger courses through him. “It’s so much better out there than in here.”

“You’re probably right,” Dazai says cheerfully. “But I’ll be dead in a few days, so it doesn’t matter that much. Or, do you think they’ll make me an experiment?”

“You better hope they fucking don’t,” Chuuya growls.

The carelessness with which Dazai treats his own life shocks Chuuya. He really seems like he wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to die, and that counters everything Chuuya believes. He doesn’t want to die. He just doesn’t particularly consider what he’s doing right now living.

That doesn’t mean he’ll be doing it forever, though. He makes it farther and farther with each escape attempt. He can charm guards into liking him, he can memorize shift changes, and if he’s careful, he can even steal keys; he’s done all of it before, and he can do it again.

The only thing stopping him each time is when someone catches him and triggers the shock collar. Chuuya still can’t force himself to keep moving through it, but that doesn’t mean he’ll never learn. It also doesn’t mean he’ll never learn how to turn off the security system long enough to get out. There’s not a doubt in his mind that, with enough patience and effort, he will one day be free.

If Dazai wants to stay here and die, Chuuya won’t stay with him.

“So. Anyway. About the bed situation,” Dazai starts.

“You can take the top bunk or you can take the floor,” Chuuya says. “I don’t care which you pick, but lights out is soon so I suggest you pick one fast.”

“Why don’t I just share with you?” Dazai suggests. “You’re so tiny, I bet you don’t even take up that much room.”

Chuuya has had just about enough of Dazai. He stands, marching across the room to grab Dazai by the collar. He doesn’t have much range of motion in his arms, but with a little bend to his leg, he tosses Dazai up so Dazai lands in a heap on the top bunk with a disgruntled squawk. And okay, yeah, that’s kind of funny.

“You can stay up there or you can sleep on the floor, but if you try climbing in my bed, I will throw you back up there, and if you wake me up after lights out, I’ll drag you up there and tie you down,” Chuuya threatens.

“Kinky,” Dazai says. Chuuya doesn’t think he’s really flirting, despite his tone. He’s trying to gross Chuuya out enough to get his way. “You’re not cute at all, Chuuya. You’re an annoying little slug.”

“And you’re a slimy mackerel with a bandage wasting problem,” Chuuya snaps back. Dazai reels back like Chuuya’s said something hurtful.

“Who says these are wasted bandages?” he demands.

“Just stay up there, you suicidal freak,” Chuuya says. “And you better hope for your own sake you don’t snore, because if you do, I’ll kick your ass two ways from Sunday.”

“Scary,” Dazai snorts, turning his back on Chuuya and fluffing at his pillow, like that will really help.

Chuuya collapses on his own bunk. He’s even more exhausted after dealing with Dazai. Maybe he’ll save everyone the trouble and just kill himself. That might be the best outcome Chuuya can hope for.

[maximoffvizh]

fic: not what you intended

au: superhero vision rescues civilian wanda during the battle of sokovia | cw: character death (it’s pietro) | because i wrote this post and no one wrote the fic so i’ll do it myself

"The helicarriers need to leave,” comes Captain Rogers’ solemn voice through the intercom, and Vision looks away briefly from the streets, layered with the broken Ultron bots. From ruminating on whether they are aware of having died, or if it simply felt like being shut down. Returning to his duties as an Avenger. “Everyone on a final sweep for civilians. I’m not leaving until we know we did all we could.”

“And if we find bodies?” Colonel Rhodes’ question sweeps a shiver of silence over the comms, sharp intakes of breath whooshing in Vision’s ears.

“Be discreet, but get bodies to the helicarriers too,” Captain Rogers says, voice even lower, slower, more solemn. Resigned. “These people deserve to mourn if we find their families.”

His teammates call out over the comms where they are, where they’ll be looking, and Vision moves away from the streets they say, mind mapping out the immediate area. Every door unopened is one that someone could be hiding behind, every fallen chunk of rock might be hiding a terrified civilian, and he searches every nook and cranny for any other survivors. If it’s hopeless, and this country must die, they should at least have the decency to let the people escape Sokovia’s doom, to make a new home somewhere else.

The shell of a crashed train is piled up at the edge of the world, and Vision pauses for a moment to look out towards the horizon. It’s eerily beautiful, standing at the edge of this rising land, looking down at the trees far below. The cold wind whistling past him, so loud that it takes him a second to hear the sound of sobbing coming from the crushed train carriage.

He moves towards the sound cautiously, something in his chest aching at the way the sobs sound. Hollow, raw, painful. The metal doors are crumpled and jammed shut, and he carefully uses the beam from the mind stone to melt apart a hole big enough for him to slip through. The sobbing is only louder under the flickering overhead lights, and he finds the source of it quickly. A young woman, her ankle pinned beneath the buckled train seats, clutching the hand of a young man spread-eagled on the floor. He’s ashen, blood streaking down his temple, unseeing eyes staring at the sobbing woman, and Vision assesses the situation calmly and quickly. Whoever he is, he’s important to an injured young woman, but he’s dead.

Looking at the way the chairs have collapsed on top of the young woman, he’s sure he can get her out. She starts back when he looks into the carriage, moving like she’s trying to scramble away from him, but dragged back by her ankle. “Please try not to move,” he says, trying to keep his voice gentle, reassuring. “You’ll only make your injury worse.”

“Who are you?” she asks, her eyes huge and scared. “What do you want?”

“My name is Vision,” he says. “I’m an Avenger.” Her eyes flash, and she leans away from him, still clutching onto the dead man’s hand. “I want to help you out of here.” He looks at the man’s body again, the tangle of dark hair matted with blood, and tries not to let her see him look. “What’s your name?”

“Why should I trust you?” she snarls. “Look what the Avengers have done. All this is your fault.” Swallowing thickly, unable to deny her accusation, Vision turns his attention to the seats collapsed on top of her, giving a futile shove at them. “Don’t bother. Just let me die with my brother and my country.”

“I’m under orders not to leave any civilian here to die,” he says, keeping his voice level and calm. “I have to get you out of here. I am perfectly willing to bring your brother too. We will cover the costs of his funeral.”

“Wow, the generous Avengers!” she snarls, and he recoils at the venom in her voice. “They splash money on mass funerals and simple gravestones while a country crumbles around them and expect forgiveness for destroying a country!”

“Ma’am, I need to help you, and it requires your cooperation,” he says, looking out of the window again. They’ve risen higher, the air growing thin, and despite the young woman’s bravado her face is pinched and ashen with pain, and there are tear tracks glittering on her sharp cheekbones. “Allow me to free you and take you to safety. Then you may rail against the Avengers all you like.”

“No,” she snaps. “You and those heroes like you took everything from me. I’ll die here.”

A jolt, and suddenly the country is falling, and Vision cannot simply walk away and leave an innocent life to fade away in the ocean. Heedless of the shouting of the rest of the team over the comms, the panic-stricken yelling, he cleaves the seat in half with a jet of light from the mind stone, shoving it off the young woman. He grimaces picking up her brother’s body, wishing there was a more dignified way of carrying him, but short of calling for another teammate there’s nothing he can do.

The young woman screams and hits at him when he picks her up, but he blasts another, wider hole in the side of the train, the metal sheet peeling away and flying off in the wind. Kicking away from the floor, he looks back just in time to watch Thor’s lightning crackle up and the entire country burst into a mass of nothing but rocks and dust. In time to see a final silhouette of Ultron fly away from the destruction, and he grits his teeth. He’ll be the one to finish this.

Agent Barton is standing on the surface of the helicarrier, covered in dust and dirt, and when Vision lands he reaches out to help him lay the young man’s body across the floor, to cover him with a white sheet before any of the children around can be frightened by a corpse. The young woman defiantly tries to walk away, but the moment she takes a step she collapses on an undoubtedly broken ankle, curling in on herself with another broken sob. “I have to go after Ultron,” Vision says, and Agent Barton nods solemnly.

“I’ll find a shock blanket and some tea for her,” he says. “And see if we have anything to bind up her ankle. Did you see what happened?”

“Trapped under debris in a train crash,” Vision says, and Agent Barton winces. “She’ll need proper medical attention.”

“Maria is making calls to every hospital within flying distance as we speak,” he says, and Vision nods approvingly. “Go make sure Ultron can’t follow.”

When Vision returns to the helicarrier, after dispatching the final body Ultron could run to in a blast of life, pushing away the thought that he killed a part of himself, that with the death of another complex AI he’s the only thing of his kind in the world, he finds the helicarrier calm. The flurry of activity has quieted, the civilians sitting in groups, those who needed it treated with what medical supplies are aboard, most cradling cups of tea or soup.

The young woman is sitting alone, staring at the sheet covering her brother’s body. An ice pack is clamped to her ankle, probably all the helicarrier could choke up in the way of assistance for a broken bone, and a mug of tea is in her ringed fingers. She looks up and finds Vision’s eyes, and he looks away quickly, walking to speak to Agent Hill and Captain Rogers in the cockpit and firmly pushing away the rise of sadness at the hatred he saw in her eyes.

***************************************************************************

Signing an autograph onto a gap-toothed child’s piece of paper, trying to smile, Vision flexes his aching fingers and pours another glass of water. Life since Sokovia has been filled with firsts, but this is the twentieth event they’ve held to raise money for Sokovia, to help with medical bills and rebuilding and efforts to stabilise the lives of thousands of uprooted people. People smiling and thanking him for his service, and he just has to smile, to pretend that he doesn’t spend nights pacing the compound thinking of everyone they couldn’t save. Thinking of the young woman clutching her dead brother’s hand, collapsing to the helicarrier floor in a harsh sob, hatred in her eyes.

“Take a break, big guy,” Mr. Stark says, slapping him on the shoulder with a grin. “You’ve been here all morning. Wilson will be back from the coffee run soon, he’ll take your spot.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” he says, and walks away with, “For the thousandth time, it’s Tony!” echoing in his ears.

Behind the scenes of the event, everything is dim and quiet. He pulls out his phone and sees thousands of mentions on the Twitter SHIELD made and maintains for him, everything happily talking about the event. At least it’s garnering attention for Sokovia, maybe they’ll make the amount of money they can only dream of over stilted team dinners, everyone still dealing with the wounds of Sokovia. He still sees that young woman in his dreams, feels the way she tried to kick away from him in mid-air, thinking that if he weren’t so strong she might have succeeded. Fallen to the greedy water below.

An alarm sounds, and he looks curiously around as SHIELD agents run past him, guns whipped out from holsters on every conceivable area of their bodies, and his interest perks when he hears a heavy accent coming from the doorway to the labyrinth of corridors. “Look, please just let me past. I want to speak to Vision.”

“Then go around the front,” one of the agents says, and Vision approaches them cautiously. He recognises the ringed hands, the green eyes, the sharp cheekbones of the young woman behind a barrier of dark-uniformed shoulders.”Wait in the queue like everyone else.”

“It’s alright, Agent Wells,” Vision says, and the young man turns a wide-eyed look to him. “I’ll speak to her. Leave us.”

“Yes sir!” Agent Wells says, and Vision sees him resist the urge to salute before he leads the group away. Leaving him to look at the young woman, to see how she’s changed. It’s been six weeks since he saw a concerned nurse wheel her into a hospital, and she’s different. No crutch, though she is walking slowly. Her hair isn’t as dark, highlighted lighter at the front, and without the dark sweeps of eyeliner she looks younger.

“How can I help you, ma’am?” he asks, straightening up. She stares at him for a moment, her eyes moving over the no doubt strange contrast of his crimson skin to his normal clothing, the white shirt and simple black blazer that Mr. Stark told him was the best idea for a long day at this event.

“I actually wanted to talk,” she says, and shifts awkwardly. He takes in her clothes, the black dress and the way she keeps tugging the grey sleeves of her cardigan down over her hands, the chipped black nail polish on her fingers and the ladder in her tights, the scuffed toes of her battered black boots. “I never thanked you. For saving my life.”

“Thanks are not necessary, Miss...”

“Maximoff,” she says with the tiniest shadow of a smile. “Wanda Maximoff.” She fidgets with one of her rings, a thick silver band around the middle finger of her left hand, and says, “I should thank you. You could’ve left me there with all the trouble I was making. But you took the time to help me, and to make sure Pietro’s body made it to a place I could bury him. We’d both be at the bottom of the sea if you hadn’t pulled me out.”

“It’s no trouble, Miss Maximoff,” Vision says. “Saving people is simply what I was made to do.”

“Well, you saved me, and that means something,” she says, and he can’t help getting a little flustered, feeling heat flare across the back of his neck at the earnestness in her pretty green eyes. “I wasn’t grateful at the time, but I am now. SHIELD set me up with an apartment, a job, and a chance to make a new life here. I didn’t have prospects in Sokovia except staying on the streets. Maybe I do now.”

“Where do you work?” he asks, and she smiles slightly.

“The Starbucks that Falcon just came into to pick up trays of coffees and distract every barista and customer in the place,” she says. “Maybe...you’ll drop in for a cup of tea when you’re done signing for children.”

“Perhaps I will,” he says softly, and Miss Maximoff smiles. When she turns away, he watches the way her skirt swings around her thighs for longer than he should, and turns back to picking at his salad, trying to blink the green of her eyes away from flickering constantly across his mind’s eyes.

[whateverisbeautiful]

Reveling in Richonne

#148: The Defender (9x07-9x12)

So before 9x14, there were more little notable tidbits here and there. Michonne had to defend her stance a lot and go through it. And even though she didn’t seem to have a whole lot of people behind her, I was on her side completely. I could see her perspective loud and clear so you know...

As for 9x07, I like that Siddiq seems to be one of Michonne’s closest confidants because he’s a really good person and because Carl’s the one who brought him to her. Grimes looking out for each other even after they depart. 

Michonne has a moment in 9x07 where she tells Yumiko, “I know what it’s like. To worry about your family. To carry the burden of protecting them. To feel guilt when they suffer.” Everything Michonne is doing and has done is for her family, and not just her immediate family but for the larger community family they’ve built. She wants to do what’s best for all of them. 

Yumiko says they’ll all be fine. And Michonne says, “Because you have to be. I would know.” And she reassures them they’ll find a home. That’s also something Michonne would know since she went from being a lone wolf type to truly finding her home and the family she was meant for.  

We also learn that Maggie left without even saying anything to Michonne which is tough and strange. For some reason the two had a falling out that doesn’t ever quite get explicitly addressed . 

Michonne tells Siddiq she kept her promise to Judith by getting that new group to Hilltop and so now she’s going to go home. And it’s sweet how all of this really was because she heard Judith out and wanted to honor her daughter’s wish. 

Siddiq asks what about her promise to Carl and she says it’s not that simple. And it’s true, after everything she’s been through sometimes the rules change. Just like if Carl or Rick would’ve gone through that Jocelyn stuff they would’ve adjusted too.

Y’all, I don’t even want to address the uncalled for hostility Michonne’s met with when she pulls up to Hilltops gates in 9x08. 🙄 But I will say that Tara needed to turn that attitude all the way down cuz she had me watching like... 

Michonne and Carol have a little exchange and get to talk about the kids which is nice. I’m glad someone acknowledged Michonne as a mother and not just the Head of Security like we’d been seeing. And it makes sense that Carol would be the one to do that. 

I’ve alway wanted Carol and Michonne to have more scenes together since they’re both strong women who have gone through a lot of the same things. So I appreciate that in this moment they at least acknowledge the similarities in their journeys when Carol says, “You and me, we both lost children and we kept going.” 

It’s deep cuz losing a child is the toughest thing to go through and they two of them have seen it happen many times and been personally affected from it. And yet years later these two are still standing cuz they have an immense strength within them. 

(Side note: So the wigs…can we talk about it for a sec? 😬  For Michonne’s wig, I get the idea and I like the idea. But all I gotta say is they are lucky Danai can pull off anything cuz the execution of this wig was not always on point to say the least. Like the taping of the edges to start. 🤦🏽‍♀️ They are in Atlanta! Black hair capital. To have a wig like that...they could have done better. I’m just saying. But again, Danai makes it work cuz she just got it like that.👌 And for Carol’s wig, again the idea and the significance of the longer hair isn’t bad, but still that execution was not the move.🏽)

Later in this episode, Michonne says how she knows she didn’t make easy choices but, “at least they’re alive so they can hate me for it.” I’m still unclear as to what would make the others behave this way towards Michonne. 

Even if she did cut places off, no one ever stopped and said hey I know Michonne used to have the most sound head on her shoulders of us all so maybe if she’s making a drastic decision there’s a valid reason for it. 

People seem to know what Michonne went through, or at least the gist, but still gave no understanding. Michonne’s mantra now is that there’s a whole lot of broken world between the communities so they’ve gotta focus on taking care of their own. And yes would it be nice if they could all just be united? Definitely. That’s what she’d really want. But also right now Michonne’s at a point where she has to do what she has to do for her family, the same way Rick did. 

Rick straight up kicked Carol out of their community in season four to protect his own, so drastic measures have been taken before for the sake of protecting your family.

Michonne really does feel like she’s looking out for the best interests of everyone if they stop traveling so much cuz it would keep everybody a bit safer. Not just Alexandria, everybody. When she tells Siddiq at least their alive to hate me it’s because she genuinely sees her decisions as having kept everybody alive. She didn’t cut things off to punish, dismiss, or divide. It was to protect and save.

So next, it’s interesting cuz my favorite part of 9x09 was in the “previously on” part lol. 

Michonne’s voiceover does a briefing on the past and mentions everything that went down. And she says “We lost friends we loved…my true love.” And y’all, that alone took me out. 😭🙌🏽

I really loved hearing Michonne refer to Rick as her true love, even if it wasn’t within the show. Rick is her true love. It’s just the gospel truth. 💯

And then she says, “But even now, six years later, his hopes for the future live on.” And it’s so sweet cuz she says that over clips of Judith and RJ. They’re Richonne’s legacy. 😊👌🏽

So listen, during 9x09 Negan got out of his cell and if the goal is to redeem him, then having him immediately go into Michonne’s home at night and walk right into Judith’s room ain’t a great start. That’s so creepy and violating. 😖

But I do adore the precious  drawing Judith has above her bed. It’s Rick, Michonne, Carl, RJ, and Judith. The royal family. And it says the truest statement ever on the top, “My family is always with me.” Amen, Judith. 😊🙌🏽

As Negan’s about to hop the gate, Judith stops him with a gun cuz she’s about that life. (Although whoever was supposed to be watching her, while Michonne was away, was def slacking.) 

Then Negan and Judith have this whole little exchange and Judith is quite fearless. 

Negan tells Judith, “You know when your mom and dad - when they locked me up, they told me that I was gonna be good for something.” And I just appreciate hearing Rick and Michonne be referred to as “mom and dad”. 

And I like that he acknowledges the wonderland that Alexandria’s become. Despite Judith’s knack for making her own decisions she does at least know who’s boss when she tells him, “Rules are rules. My mom decides not me.” Which is nice to hear, even if she does let him go afterwards.

Michonne and Daryl also have their first convo post time jump and it’s nice to see them together.

(Side note: I knew they wouldn’t address it or show it but I was very curious as to how the conversation would go when Daryl explains to Michonne why Rick was even in that bridge situation in the first place. Cuz if it was up to Rick…he would’ve been at home with her that day. But Daryl, Maggie, and a fake friend horse unfortunately had other plans.😒)

Michonne tells Daryl that Judith found the new people and vouched for them so she does too and Daryl’s with it. In regards to Paul dying and them bringing him back to Hilltop for closure, Michonne then says, “It’s gonna mean a lot to them. Bringing him back. Burying him.”  You know this speaks to her because she didn’t get that closure with getting to bury Rick.😔

Daryl knows too and sincerely says, “Sorry I couldn’t do that for you.” I appreciate him saying for her specifically, cuz of course he wanted to find Rick for him and everyone else too but he knows that it would have especially meant a lot to Michonne, cuz in losing Rick she lost her soul mate. 

And Michonne looks at him and says, “I’m sorry I couldn’t do that for both of us.” Cuz it’s true these two are the closest people to Rick. It’s his wife and brother and so it is sweet to see them have this moment of understanding more than anyone, what not finding Rick has felt like. 

It’s nice that now Rick has a wife and best friend who still feel the weight of his loss six years later and keep his memory alive. 

Michonne also thanks Daryl for trying to find Rick and “for after” cuz those two went through it big time in between this time jump. 

When they’re confronted by Whisperers at the bridge, I love the shot of Michonne walking with two walkers behind her like her OG days in season three. 

But what’s cooler is that, while the image is reflective of the past, this isn’t the same s3 Michonne. This Michonne has a whole family now and doesn’t just get her strength from the dead, she lives for the living. And slays for the living too.👌🏽

I’m glad Aaron is a real one for at least starting to understand where Michonne is coming from with why she feels these communities need to stay in their own lanes. There’s some sadistic people out there, with Alpha being top of the list, and they know that now.

I’m also here for Judith being a woman of her word. She said she’d shoot next time she sees Negan and that’s what she does. On site.👏🏽

Next time we see Michonne is in 9x12 and she’s confronting these deceptive Alexandrians about the radio stuff. She has to give them a dose of reality when she lets them know this sneaky stuff not only could get people killed, it already is getting people killed. 

She tells them that putting themselves out there when they don’t have to is dangerous but Father G feels like cutting themselves off from their friends is dangerous too. 

Aaron steps up and defends Michonne’s point of view because there are literally masked enemies out there now that confirm exactly what Michonne has been saying. 

And Aaron speaks nothing but facts when he says, “We put Michonne in charge of security for a reason. Her judgement has saved us time and time again.” Thank you Aaron for that dose of solid truth. Louder for the people in the back. Michonne’s judgement stay saving lives. 👌

🏽Siddiq brings up the fair and that Michonne turned it down which upsets the people. But, after seeing how the fair went down, I’ll be honest, the petty in me was like…do 👏🏽y’all 👏 🏽see now 👏🏽that 👏🏽Michonne’s 👏🏽insctinct👏🏽 is 👏🏽always👏🏽 right!? 

They’re lucky she’s not the “told you so” type because she knew the fair could be dangerous and leave them all vulnerable and well, exactly that happened. Yes Michonne is leading with an iron fist and I’m not saying she’s perfect, but they gotta at least understand that sis has a point. A lot of valid points, if you ask me. 

It’s good Michonne is so levelheaded and mature too because a lesser person might’ve been like; you Alexandrians better listen to me...

In Michonne’s first exchange with Negan since the time jump, she shows up to his cell and wants answers as to how he got out and why he came back and what he was planning. 

Negan really is still trying to talk all big like he’s in control and tells her how he was in her house and could’ve killed her and a lot of people but Michonne calls him right out and knows he came back cuz he knew there was nothing out there for him. It’s a read. 💯 This whole scene is a read from Michonne and I’m here for it. 😌

Negan again gets too personal when he tells her, “You’re keeping me in here to remind everyone how merciful the great Rick Grimes was.” Keep that name out your mouth, Negan. 😤 

And then Negan really tries to offer to be some kind of sounding board for her which is low key insane lol. 

I was a little shook that he’d even think Michonne would even consider an offer like that. Sounding board!? Ain’t nothing sound about that man. Being in that cell so long clearly has him not thinking straight. 

When he refers to Michonne as the leader, she says she’s not but both Negan and I were like come on girl, you’s the leader. 😂

He mentions he knows she wrote up some constitution, and it was cuter when Rick referred to it as that. Just saying. And then Michonne sees Judith by the window and is surprised and I was like yes girl, your daughter is buddy-buddy with Negan and we need to nip that in the bud asap.

Michonne then confronts Judith at home. But first she watches as Rick and Michonne’s peaceful prince, RJ, sleeps. Precious. ☺️

Literally everytime they show RJ I just feel like we’ve won the best award. Whenever he’s on screen I’m just like...

Michonne asks why Judith was spying on her and Judith says she wasn’t, she went there to see Negan. Michonne is surprised to learn she’s been talking to him and so she asks why. Judith says she feels sorry for him and Michonne is adamant when she says, “He is not your friend, sweetheart.” It’s the truth.

And then Judith has the tween response of, “Well obviously.” Michonne asks, “So if he’s not your friend then why are you talking to him?” and Judith says, “He listens to me. Not everybody does.”

It’s interesting cuz so much of what a parent does can go unnoticed. Michonne listened to Judith with Connie and Co and personally escorted them to Hilltop to keep her promise to Judith. But sometimes when you’re a kid you don’t see that.

This moment between Michonne and Judith reminds me a bit of Rick and Carl’s exchanges in the past. And in both situations, even when they don’t see eye-to-eye, the love and care they have for each other is always so evident. It’s why they so fiercely protect each other. 

Michonne tells her, “I don’t want you to ever go near him again.” And Judith asks why not so Michonne explains, “There’s a reason that he’s in a cage, Judith. He is a monster.” And I was like...

And then Judith gets passionate when she says, “No he’s not. He’s a human being.” Girl, if you were in that lineup you’d feel different. 😬 Pretty sure that’s a direct quote from Michonne’s mind. 😂 

Michonne clarifies saying, “But he has done monstrous things.  He’s killed people. People I cared about. People your dad cared about. And if we ever let him out it would start all over again.”

Judith counters with, “But mom, he did get out. He’s not like that anymore.” And Michonne says, “I get why you want to believe that. But people don’t really change.” 

And then Judith responds with the deep statement, “You did.” This really resonates with Michonne. And I think this moment resonates with her for a lot of reasons. 

Michonne has changed and evolved a lot over the seasons. Especially from a lone wolf to a valued family member. She also changed leadership styles after going through trauma. So she knows Judith has a point that she changed. And I think it hits her that Judith has noticed these changes within her. 

You can tell it stirs up a lot in her so she pauses and tells Judith to go to her room. And Judith again has the tween response of, “Why?” and Michonne is just honest and says, “Cuz I need a minute.” It’s the healthiest approach to be honest like that and take some time to process all this. 

Again, it’s tough cuz Michonne is expected to balance so much. She’s expected to be hands on as both the Head of Security/Leader and as a mother of two. It makes it difficult to have moments to breathe. So as weighted as she clearly feels in this moment, I’m glad she at least takes a moment to herself to process. 

Michonne has a good heart and a balanced character, so she’s open to hearing people out. And we see that when she has a sweet moment with Aaron where she thanks him and Aaron again reiterates his understanding of where she’s coming from. 

Because she’s willing to be a team player, she tells Aaron that she won’t veto the councils desire to go to the fair. She admits she thinks it’s a terrible idea (and she’s right) but she also cares to value their rights, plus it’s for the Kingdom, which she cares for. 

Aaron says he hopes they don’t regret this and Michonne agrees and unfortunately they all will. 

But at least this moment shows that Michonne is willing to do what the best leaders do which is take a step back every now and then and let people lead themselves. 

As people pack up for the fair they stay on this shot of Michonne alone and sitting very contemplatively. And it’s tough seeing how much she has to endure alone when normally Rick would be right by her side. 

It’s also tough cuz Michonne’s gut feelings are so right so often, so it can’t be easy to know that her people are willingly putting themselves at risk for something she knows will be a mess. But they lived and they learned…well most of them. 🙃

And that’s everything that goes down with Michonne and her family in the events leading up to the meaty Michonne episode we get in 9x14. It’s a tough one but also really significant so you know I’ll break it down. 👌🏽😭

gifs source: @michonnegrimes

[whitewolfofwinterfell]

My favourite Charmed episodes - season 7

This is the seventh part of my Favourite Charmed Episodes meta series all posts in the series will be tagged as #favecharmedeps.

Season 7 is a strange one for me to analyse, because I have very mixed feelings about it. Generally I think of it as a rather forgettable season, but then when I started trawling through the episodes to pick out my favourites, I realised there’s a lot of episodes that I really enjoy from this season. Although the Avatar storyline didn’t reach it’s full potential, I actually think it’s one of the most interesting plots from the series. It posed a lot of questions about the key themes of the show regarding morality and good versus evil, and it also created a lot of conflict for the main characters. Part of me clings to the golden days of Charmed when times were simpler for the Halliwells and the family felt like a more cohesive unit. But I can’t deny that the Avatar storyline brought about very interesting character development and conflict amongst the characters. In addition to the Avatars, Zankou is objectively one of the most interesting and baddest villains to ever be on the show and for the first time since The Source, it felt like the sisters really were going to lose the battle. This also has one of my favourite minor characters from the entire show - Drake. I can’t help but enjoy the episodes that feature Drake. He’s a breath of fresh air in what’s overall a rather dark season, and his chemistry with Phoebe is great. The moments when she’s with Drake are the moments when I feel we catch a glimpse of the old Phoebe that followed her heart wherever it led her and was a free spirit. Strangely, I think that season 7 is the better season between the two weakest ones of the series. I have chosen 7 favourite episodes from season 7 (which is the most I’ve chosen from any season tied with season 3!): Cheaper by the Coven, There’s Something About Leo, Charmageddon, Carpe Demon, The Seven Year Witch, Imaginary Fiends and Something Wicca This Way Goes. 

Cheaper by the Coven (7x03)

For those of you that have been following this meta series, you’ll already know that I generally love any episode with Penny and/or Patty, and this episode is no exception. I enjoy this episode because not only do we get Penny and Patty, we also get Victor. One of the main aspects I love about Charmed is the emphasis on family and the core of that is the sisterhood, but there’s something special about any episode which features other family members. 

The sibling rivalry between Wyatt and Chris was authentic and very realistic of sibling relationships. We know from future!Chris that their relationship was strained, so it’s no surprise to see that developing now. When Grams casts the spell to remove their rivalry and it transfers to the sisters, it shows that you cannot erase complex emotional issues with the wave of a wand. 

Seeing the sisters revert back to a child-like state is comedic, albeit a little cringey, but I always get a kick out of seeing it. As the seasons progress I feel we see less and less of the playfulness and closeness between the sisters, so it’s nice to see it in this episode. Likewise, it’s touching to see Victor and Patty come together as a co-parenting unit for perhaps the first time ever to help their daughters. It was also sweet for them to see the girls in a child-like state since they both missed out on a majority of their childhood and likely never got the chance to see them interact as children. 

The sub-plot with Leo and Wyatt is also a necessary exploration of the aftermath of Leo killing Gideon. Although I’m generally not a fan of Wyatt’s character and the way he’s written, it makes sense that the trauma and emotion of being kidnapped and nearly killed by someone who was a trusted family friend and mentor, then witnessing his own father murder that man, would manifest itself in a complicated manner. After all, the sisters always say their powers are linked to their emotions. Although this issue was quickly resolved in this episode, I still think the fact that the episode tackled this was really important. 

Overall, I enjoy this episode because it’s fun and it brings together the Halliwell family (there’s even a discussion about Prue between Grams and Piper) in a nice way. 

There’s Something About Leo (7x09)

This episode has a very gripping plot that I find suspenseful and engaging. There’s a lot of conflict throughout since Leo is an Avatar and wants to tell Piper, whilst Kyle wants revenge against the Avatars because he believes they killed his parents. 

Generally, although Leo is a main character from season 1, he doesn’t get much attention or many of his own story lines until season 6. I personally find the Avatar story line one of the strongest ones involving Leo and this episode is a culmination of that. In the past Leo chose his duties as an Elder above the love and duty towards his family, and once again we see him in a similar position with the Avatars. He doesn’t want to lie to Piper and keep secrets from her, but the Avatars insist Piper (and the sisters) aren’t ready to know the truth. It’s interesting to see Leo having little control over his new powers and using them based on emotion. After having been split from Piper for a while it poses a real challenge to their relationship for them to have secrets between them, particularly when Piper sense that he’s hiding something from her. It provides good development for them as a couple to see them having to overcome something like this as a couple. When Leo tells Piper the truth, it’s interesting to see how she’s able to remain open-minded and trust that the Avatars aren’t in fact evil. It demonstrates the strength of their partnership and the love they have. 

On the other hand, the reveal about Leo being an Avatar wreaks havoc on the family because of Kyle and Paige finds herself in an incredibly difficult position, caught between the man she loves and her family. It’s one of the first time that the family is divided in this manner and although it’s sad, it’s interesting to witness. The Halliwell family as a unit seem so solid and together, but this episode shows that despite their closeness and how much they love each other, they’re not immune from facing these kind of problems. 

When the truth leads to Leo and Kyle’s deaths, it’s a dramatic and shocking moment that proves what the Avatars said to Leo about it being too soon for him to reveal the truth. Piper may have been ready but Kyle (and Paige) weren’t ready and the consequences of that were disastrous. The episode ends with Leo revering time to before he told Piper the truth about him being an Avatar and everything that happened in the episode is undone. 

Since Charmed is generally follows a demon-of-the-week format, I appreciate episodes like these that are very plot heavy and are the piece of a puzzle for an ongoing plot. The Avatar story line spans across the majority of the season and although the damage done in this episode is reversed, it doesn’t end on a particularly positive note. It demonstrates how dangerous the situation is and provides an insight into how the plot may develop as the episodes continue and the devastating impact it could potentially have on the family. 

Charmageddon (7x13)

This episode is very much the follow-up of There’s Something About Leo and the culmination of the Avatar story line. Once again, I like this episode because I think the plot works very well. It’s an interesting and solid episode that takes you on a journey and has a strong ending.

As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, the Avatar story line in general poses big questions about a lot of key themes that are present throughout Charmed and this episode really highlights that. One of the most significant themes throughout this episode from my perspective is be careful what you wish for. 

Throughout the series we see the sisters time and time again crave and wish for a “normal” life free of magic and demons, and this episode sees their wish granted. They live in a perfect utopia - a happy world with no violence or pain - and they all seem happier than they’ve been in a long time. After all, what could possibly be more perfect than a world like that? Of course, it’s not long before the cracks begin to show and the reality of maintaining a world like that means that innocent people are removed from the world is they pose a threat to the peace. 

After seeing the journey Leo has been on in this season with the Avatars it’s interesting that he of all people is one of the first (with Zankou’s help) to see the flaws in the Avatars utopia. Having Leo pair up with Zankou to reverse what the Avatars have created builds on the conflict that has been present within the family throughout the season. It’s good to see Leo make such a huge decision by himself on the basis of his own morals and sense of right and wrong. He makes a lot of mistakes in seasons 6 and 7, but he’s still able to see the right path and knows that he has to work with Zankou to achieve that. 

On the flip side, this episode (and this season overall, actually) shows how much the sisters have lost their way. Despite the years of experience and the knowledge they have of the magical world, they’re naive enough to believe that the Avatars really can create this perfect utopia without there being any consequences. It shows that the sisters are so desperate for normalcy (and I don’t really blame them) that they’re willing to believe what is clearly a fantasy. Phoebe and Paige, in particular, knew that such a world can’t exist after their experiences in It’s a Bad, Bad, Bad World. They were catapulted into a happy parallel universe where everything was sunshine, rainbows and smiles, but where people were shot in the street for blocking their neighbours drive-ways or had their tongues cut out for swearing. The sisters should’ve been smart enough to realise that a world like that can’t exist without consequences. And Phoebe’s resistance to see the reality of it, even when Leo explicitly told her about it, further demonstrates how desperately they were clinging to a fantasy. 

It’s great to see the sisters (and Leo) team up with the Big Bad of the season, Zankou and reminds me of season 4 when the Seer teamed up with the sisters to help them defeat the Source (although it was actually a manipulation on the Seer’s part). It demonstrates that under certain circumstances, even enemies can come together to right a wrong. It also hammers home one of those core Charmed messages that good cannot exist without bad and vice versa. 

Overall, I love the plot of this episode and the important lessons it contains. When Phoebe goes to the Book of Shadows, like Leo told her to, and had a premonition of all the people she’d lost over the years, it was a beautiful moment. We all go through life avoiding pain and hoping we don’t have to feel it, but it’s a natural part of life and being a human. And although it’s a cliche, it’s true that we all have to feel those things to be able to fully feel the good parts of life - love, happiness, kindness, empathy, friendship, family etc. Life without pain is not truly living. Likewise, this episode provides a valuable lesson on how the things we wish for may not always live up to the expectations we have or turn out the way we imagined. The sisters wanted the utopia that the Avatars provided, but it wasn’t what they expected or hoped. 

The episode ended with Kyle returning to Paige as a Whitelighter, which regardless of personal feelings towards Kyle and/or Paige and Kyle as a couple, was very sweet and fitting. Paige needed that closure after the way in which Kyle died and it was the right way to end his story. As a child I strongly disliked Kyle, because I found him annoying and hated him for wanting to kill Leo. As an adult, I now completely sympathise with Kyle and feel that as a whole the fans are a little harsh on him. He was a little boy whose parents were killed and his entire life was shaped by the trauma of that one event. As a result, he spent his entire life clinging to the idea of avenging his parents deaths and when he was faced with that opportunity, he couldn’t let it pass him by. Yes, it was selfish of him to try and kill Paige’s brother-in-law, but under the circumstances it’s also easy to understand why he felt so strongly about it. He believed wholeheartedly that the Avatars were evil, and although they weren’t necessarily, they were still corrupt and to an extent he was right about them. They created a world that on the surface may have seemed better, but in reality it wasn’t, because it was all an illusion. Everyone’s minds, emotions and behaviours were manipulated by magic, forcing them to conform and essentially transforming them into robots. That’s simply inhumane and immoral. 

Despite the fact that the Avatar story line was a bit iffy in places, I really like this episode and think it’s a strong culmination of the plot and a very strong ending too. My one and only criticism, is that I feel like this should’ve been a turning point for the sisters in realising that they’d lost their way a little bit and lost sight of the purpose of their magic. From the beginning, being the Charmed Ones was all about protecting the innocent, but by this point, the sisters had grown so tired of demon-fighting and everything that went with it that they lost sight of the real reason they were fighting and became too focused on what they needed and wanted. 

Carpe Demon (7x14)

In terms of plot and the events of this episode, I don’t really like it much at all. But anybody that follows me or that is familiar with my Charmed posts will know that Drake is one of my favourite characters on the show and that is the only reason I like this episode. Therefore, nearly everything I discuss about this episode will be entirely about Drake. 

To skip over the plot quickly before I get into Drake, I think this episode is generally a bit meh, a rather forgettable episode that lacks in any real plot. It has a bit of silliness and fun with Drake becoming Robin Hood, which I’m partial to, but there isn’t a whole lot going on in this episode. If you remove Drake from the episode, this definitely wouldn’t make it onto my list.

So, let’s talk about Drake, shall we? I honestly love Drake. He’s a breath of fresh air and from the second he arrives on-screen he transforms the entire vibe of the show. He’s the sort of character that lights up any scene he’s in and his chemistry with Phoebe from the beginning is so lovely. She comes alive around him and we get to see a more playful, passionate and free-spirited Phoebe once again. His energy, positivity, philosophical mindset, interesting background (as a demon), humour and playfulness perfectly offset the darker tone of the season with the Avatars. His arrival is perfectly timed to lighten up the show a little after the Avatar story line and although he’s only on the show for a short amount of time, I find his presence very impactful. There’s a lot of characters that come and go throughout the seasons, but Drake’s one that is very memorable to me and he always stands out. None of the other minor or recurring characters seem to bring the same energy to the show as he does and I always enjoy watching his scenes and watching his dynamic with Phoebe. 

The Seven Year Witch (7x16)

Honestly, it’s kind of crazy that I still commonly think of season 7 as an average/poor season, because this episode is probably one of the best across the series. However, if anyone ever asks me what my all time favourite episodes are, this episode would never enter my mind, mostly because I just have a more personal connection to the earlier seasons. 

I love the plot and emotion in this episode. It’s such a sad yet beautiful episode for Piper and Leo, who have been through so much. Leo, in particular, has had a rough couple of seasons with the Elders, Gideon and the Avatars, so to see him have his memories wiped and be placed in the middle of nowhere is quite difficult. As I’ve said before, I’m not a hardcore Pleo shipper, but this episode proves 100% that they’re soulmates and are meant to be together. Throughout the series Leo has always been torn between his magical duties (as either a Whitelighter, Elder or Avatar) and Piper, and this episode finally ends that conflict that exists inside him as he makes his final choice. Without Leo, Piper’s soul cannot survive and the fact that her imminent death is enough to wake Leo from his amnesiac state is a testament to the love they have. Leo’s literal fall from grace, looks ridiculous (there’s something about it that’s so funny to me, I don’t know if that’s just me being weird) but is actually one of the most beautiful moments on the show, once again showing how strong his and Piper’s love for one another is. And the scene where they reunite is so beautiful, it’s probably one of my favourite Piper and Leo scenes. 

Of course, the guest appearance from Cole in this episode is a pleasant surprise. Despite how he and Phoebe ended, he always loved her and never wanted her to give up on love, so it’s fitting that he should return now when Piper and Leo (the greatest love that Phoebe has witnessed) risk ending. Likewise, it’s a nice twist, but a fitting one, that Cole was actually the mastermind behind Drake coming into Phoebe’s life all along. We saw in Happily Ever After how important it was to Cole for Phoebe to never give up on love. I really see that as part of how deeply he knew and understood Phoebe as a person. She was so loving and passionate, that she would never be completely fulfilled or happy without love (despite what she may have said) and he felt largely responsible for closing her heart off to other prospective lovers because of how deeply he hurt her. 

This episode is also where we saw goodbye to Drake. It’s a sad moment, but I love how it’s done. The final scene between him and Phoebe is so lovely and very heartfelt. Despite how short a time they knew each other, it’s easy to see why Phoebe fell in love with him. Drake had a very similar spirit to Phoebe (particularly early seasons Phoebe) and he brought joy, light, positivity, fun and passion back into her life. Despite having had other relationships after Cole (Jason, Miles, Leslie), none of those men brought out the same side to Phoebe that Drake did. He just captivated her from the very beginning. Seeing how Drake and Phoebe had come to fall in love also fit within the theme of love in this episode with Piper and Leo, but stood in contrast to it. Whilst Piper and Leo were able to overcome the obstacles that stood in their way to be together, Phoebe and Drake weren’t and lost one another. But ultimately, the message remained the same - love is always worth it. 

Imaginary Fiends (7x20)

I’m not particularly a big fan of Wyatt as a character. That probably makes me sound like an awful human being since he’s only a child, but I never really felt like children fit on the show, although I understand the value of seeing at least one of the sisters enter into motherhood during the series. 

However, I really like and value this episode. There’s quite a lot of episodes from season 5 onwards that center on Wyatt, but this is one of the only ones I genuinely like and think is handled really well. The idea that Wyatt has an imaginary friend is one that, from a psychological stand-point, is interesting because of the nature of his life and upbringing. He has a far from traditional life and has been faced with demons, warlocks and all manner of evil creatures trying to kill him or turn him evil when he was still in the womb. Having that kind of lifestyle and a lack of normalcy is obviously going to have a profound affect on a child. The fact that his imaginary friend is in fact a demon is a very good twist that works well, in my opinion. Whilst the notion that Wyatt has an imaginary friend serves as a metaphor for some of the complex issues he has (e.g. not verbally communicating and being very reserved and unsociable), it also raises awareness of grooming. Vicus (the demon), emotionally manipulates Wyatt over a prolonged period of time, gaining his trust and turning him against his own family, all to get the outcome he desires (turning Wyatt evil). The fact that it happens practically right under Piper and Leo’s noses without them being able to stop or control it correlates a lot to cases of grooming. 

The appearance of future!Wyatt is a lovely addition to this episode. Although we saw future!Wyatt in season 6 during Chris-Crossed, this time we get to meet good Wyatt rather than evil Wyatt. It’s so nice to see him interact with the family and to see the wonderful young man he will grow to be, particularly since we don’t see much personality from little Wyatt. It also provides a couple of funny moments such as when Wyatt reveals that baby Chris swallows a marble. Most of all, it’s lovely to see how all of the Halliwell clan shape adult!Wyatt and how the things he says and does show the closeness he has to his parents, Chris and aunties in the future. 

Leo being the one to turn Wyatt from evil to good is a particularly nice moment to see, since the father-son bond between them is so strong. After the crap that Leo went through in season 6 with being separated from the family, it’s good to see that the love Wyatt has for his dad is strong enough to overcome evil. It’s also very telling that adult!Wyatt, even when he’s evil, can’t bring himself to harm Leo. And of course, the end is very sweet with little Wyatt finally speaking and smiling, and seeming to open up a little bit after what was a difficult episode for him.

I definitely think this is one of the strongest (if not the strongest) Wyatt-centric episode from the series and bringing future!Wyatt into the picture only improves the episode. I admire the writers for tackling the complexities that come from a child who has grown up in such a unique lifestyle and encountered so many traumas. It’s not an easy task, but I think it’s handled quite well in this episode in comparison to previous episodes. 

Something Wicca This Way Goes (7x22)

This is by far the best season finale of the entire series. It’s dramatic, it’s suspenseful, it’s emotional and the stakes are so high that it feels like anything can happen. Although I personally never connected to Zankou as a villain, he’s by far one of the most threatening and powerful Big Bad’s that the sisters face and in this episode it feels like maybe the sisters have finally met their match. 

The episode gives me Charmed and Dangerous vibes (which is one of my all time fave episodes), with the sisters going up against the greatest evil they’ve ever faced and having their powers stripped away, meaning they have to find a way to defeat Zankou without their active powers. I’ve always been a fan of episodes where the sisters are forced out of their comfort zone when it comes to magic and can’t rely solely on their active powers. As the seasons progress I feel that the sisters got more and more dependent upon their active powers (particularly Piper’s explosive power) and as a result their creative thinking when it came to their use of magic declined. So it was great to see the sisters coming up with fresh ideas of how to beat Zankou in this episode. 

The sisters’ visit to Victor is very emotional. It’s clear that the sisters believe there’s a high chance they’re going to die in their fight against Zankou, and seeing Piper say goodbye to her sons and hand over the deeds to P3 and the Manor is heartwrenching. But I also love that they chose to entrust Victor to be the one to care for Wyatt and Chris, the house and the business, because it shows how far their relationships have come since he was first introduced to us in season 1. As a quick side-note, I’d just like to say that Victor’s development is perhaps one of the best on the show and is very overlooked. He starts the series as an absentee, irresponsible father who seems to care little for his own children, and ends it having a fantastic relationship with all of his daughters, an amazing relationship with Chris (as we learn from future!Chris in season 6) and Wyatt (who trusts him so much he orbs baby Chris to him). 

In addition to Victor, I love that Darryl and Shelia are in this episode. After how much of a significant part they’ve been in the sisters lives, it’s only fitting that they should see them one last time before their impending deaths. 

The sisters show brilliant flair and intelligence in their plan to defeat Zankou, and they succeed. Those final scenes where they cast the spell and hold hands knowing what’s about to happen is such a shocking moment, and the first time I saw it I genuinely believed the sisters were dead, even though a part of me knew it couldn’t be true. That final twist with the sisters walking out as new people and telling Leo about their plans to start a new life is fantastic, and one that I didn’t see coming. And Darryl watching as the sisters and Leo walk across the street and realising that it’s them is one of the most beautiful moments from the entire series period. I love that moment, it’s brilliant. 

As much as I like Forever Charmed and appreciate the happy ending we got, I actually think I would’ve preferred if the series ended here. It was a great and dramatic ending that was happy but open ended. In my opinion, this as a series finale tops Forever Charmed in almost every single way. The only thing that Forever Charmed improved on is having other characters like Penny, Patty, future!Chris and future!Wyatt etc. Besides that, Something Wicca This Way Goes is by far the superior series finale. Even the title is more fitting, since it plays on the pilot episode. 

And that brings me to the end of my favourite season 7 episodes. As I said at the beginning of this post, it’s strange that I consider season 7 to be one of my least favourite seasons considering how many episodes I actually like from the season. I largely put that down to the fact that the early seasons are so good and so special to me, that I’ll always consider them my favourites. I think thematically, season 7 is a strong season and has some of the best plots from across the series (e.g. Zankou, the Avatars and Leo’s arc) and some very strong episodes. The season also benefits from having Drake, a decent amount of Victor and future!Wyatt. My biggest criticism of season 7 (and seasons 6-8 generally) is that the characterisation of the sisters is very weak. As much as I love the sisters, I don’t really like them much in this season. Paige’s vibrance and quirkiness seems to dim in this season, Phoebe and Piper seem increasingly self-obsessed with themselves and their own lives and the closeness of the sisters is significantly less. The scene near the beginning of Charmageddon when Piper and Phoebe comfort Paige following Kyle’s death is one of the many scenes that highlights for me. Their attempts to comfort her are so pitiful, they don’t even hug her properly. This is obviously down to the writing, but I find it very difficult to adjust to the lack of sisterly moments and the reduction of affection and tactility between the sisters in the later seasons. You can notice this immediately when you compare this post of Prue, Piper and Phoebe to this post of Piper, Phoebe and Paige. There are so many more scenes between Prue, Piper and Phoebe where they’re hugging or holding hands or stroking each others’ hair, whereas the ones of Piper, Phoebe and Paige are mostly of them standing by each other. Anyway, I digress. Season 7 overall, is an underrated season and writing this post made me realise how many episodes there are that I enjoy from the season and how many good aspects to it there are. 

Next time I’ll be writing about my favourite season 8 episodes. Since season 8 is and always has been my least favourite season, there probably won’t be many episodes that I’ll be analysing. 

Thanks for reading!

[wisepuma23]

The Butterfly’s Shelter: Chapter 1

Summary - Logan dreamed about becoming a father all his life. However, he finds being a father on paper is very different than actually being a father to a real living breathing child. Virgil was three months old when he was adopted by Logan Crofters but his eyes spark with a curiosity, unlike other babies at his age. It both fills Logan with pride and complete utter dread. Meanwhile, he doesn't understand how his best friend, Patton Milena, was able to pull off being a single Dad to his five-year-old son, Roman. When he asks, Patton laughs until he nearly pukes, and just pats him on the shoulder.

Everything changes after Virgil's first birthday.

Logan will finally understand what it truly means to be a father beyond yanking him from open sockets and burping him as according to page 63 of his parenting manual.

Word count - 2, 901

Pairings - Logicality, Platonic Analogical, Platonic Royality, Platonic Prinxiety

Warnings - None

Notes - Behold! It's here!! Our collab between me and Tashi (fangirltothefullest)! It all started because of one scene from my fic (We Were Never Welcome Here) and we have been excitedly brainstorming and planning this Dad!Logan AU!!!

I also want to say thank you to our beta my-happy-little-bean!!! She's amazing and she really helped us polish our chapter for tonight.

It will be updated every two weeks so keep your eyes out for that!

I hope y’all enjoy!

Next Chapter

Read on AO3

Footsteps tapped along tiled floors as Logan sat in the waiting room. That universal rhythmic drum of nerves and stress made Logan aware of his own finger tapping against the chair he sat on. He couldn’t help it. Parents, nurses, and children roamed the bright hallways of the pediatric wing. His leg bounced in place as children laughed and he heard their little giggles fill his ears, his mind, his very heart.

Soon, soon, his thoughts cried out in agony. He noticed a mother across from him tilt her head in concern, then blossomed into pity. Logan felt hot embarrassment fill his chest and forced his leg and finger to sit still, yet the bundle of nerves that sat in his chest like an iron ball did not leave.

He knew it was expected for fathers to experience stress on their very first day as a father. Normal, even. Logan looked down, but he wasn’t like most fathers. Most fathers didn’t need to go through a million hoops, calls, and interviews by social workers and state officials alike. Even if it had been a hassle for the past two years, he much preferred the screening process to be complicated and thorough; it made for a better result in the end. Logan did not balk at the mountain of paperwork that stood in his way.

It was worth it.

He was prepared as far as the home, career, and state requirements seemed to suggest and the paperwork was filled out neatly and orderly. Logan had crossed all his t’s and dotted his i’s. It had taken twice as long to make sure everything was in order because they had lost his application twice when he’d faxed it. It was as if the world was trying to deny him. But Logan was not one to give up. Not after so long of dreaming about this.

Yet now that he, Logan Crofters, was faced with the actual premise of facing the children and selecting one to adopt? His heart pounded in his ears and threatened to burst out of his chest and onto the sanitized floors. His palms were sweaty no matter how many times he wiped down his slacks. He was handling it. Kinda.

Beyond the door to his left laid a plentitude of babies in their cribs. He swallowed hard. How was he supposed to choose? What if he couldn’t choose?

His hand pressed up against his tie, habitually adjusting it against the black of his button down, and pushed up his glasses. The habit took the edge off his nerves; at least it didn’t feel like his heart was going to bounce straight out of his chest cavity anymore. Yet his mind clamored with questions still, as it often did.

What if he wasn’t ready? What if this silly little childhood dream to be a father wasn’t meant to be?

Logan shut his eyes against the roar of what if, what if ?

“Mister Crofters?” a voice called out gently, snapping Logan out of his thoughts at the familiarity of it; it was none other than the social worker assigned to his adoption case. The man’s pleasant smile pulled him from his thoughts. Logan admired the dark green tie adorned around the social worker’s neck. Different from last time’s baby blue. Logan shook his head and immediately stood to shake the kind man’s hand.

“Dr. Picani,” Logan greeted with a rare smile, and the other’s blue eyes crinkled behind his own pair of spectacles. Of all the social workers that could be handling the infant department of the adoption agency, Dr. Emile Picani was one of the best. Excitable but gentle, pleasant to talk to and understanding; from the moment Logan met him, he knew this man’s life goal was getting these children to good homes. His kindness above all was what sold Logan that his case was in good hands.

“It’s good to see you, Logan. Are you ready to meet the little ones?” Dr. Picani gestured to the open doorway and Logan nodded.

“I’ve been ready for the past two years, sir; it’d be illogical that I wouldn’t be ready,” Logan said with an edge of confidence and followed him in through the second set of doors. It wasn’t true, and he was terrified beyond belief. He wanted to run to the nearest window and scream. Logan hoped the nurses didn’t tell Dr. Picani about the panic attack he had in the bathroom half an hour ago either. But by Isaac Newton, he wanted this more than anything.

As soon as he entered the room, his ears were immediately assaulted with the sounds of babbling and giggling. Tinkling laughter rang through the air like bells. Logan could see a row of cribs lining the back wall of what looked like a large playroom with baby toys scattered about the floor. There were a few babies who were sleeping, and in another room, Logan could see a couple of heavy-duty cribs fashioned with medical supplies.

None of the babies appeared to be in any of those, though he could only see a couple machines through a cracked glimpse of the sterile room. Nurses and caretakers held some of the babies, feeding them while others played with them on the floor. Warmth filled him up from the bottom of his toes to the top of his head as he leaned over a crib.

The pink baby within burst out into giggles at his appearance. Logan blinked back tears before the other doctors and nurses could see and moved away before he disturbed it further. They looked so… fragile and lovely in a way that he could not put into words. Logan desperately wanted to sit down and never leave the ward again. If he could have dubbed this his new favorite place, he would have.

Logan could see quite a few young volunteers helping out and Dr. Picani smiled at Logan’s awe. Laughter lines deepened around his light blue eyes with amusement and Logan found himself smiling despite his own efforts to appear professional.

“These are most of our available babies ready for adoption.” Dr. Picani told him. “They’ve all been properly vaccinated and such. We are currently housing only one child, an infant, who is in need of medical care and he’s under observation.” Logan frowned in concern, but Dr. Picani handwaved with a beam. “But he’s as strong as Lapis Lazuli, I just know it. He’ll be fine. When you’re done here I can take you there to see him if you like!”

Logan sighed in relief and nodded as he peered about the room. There were so many, how was he supposed to choose? He shuffled in place, torn in too many directions, and Dr. Picani chuckled behind him.

“They don’t bite Logan; that comes when they start getting teeth,” he teased and lifted one little baby from a crib.

“This is little Anna,” he cooed and held her out to Logan who lifted her into his arms and his chest ached. Her rosy cheeks, pudgy little fingers, and eyes that twinkled like sapphires made his heart melt into a puddle. Her eyes lit up and squealed as she kicked her feet. He chuckled and bounced her without thinking.

Dr. Picani smiled. “Aw, see? Paternal instincts kicking in already.”

“Perhaps,” Logan mused and his fear and apprehension of the situation seemed to drain away, “and what happened to you, chubby little thing?” He asked her as if she could answer. “Where are your parents?”

“Teenage pregnancy. Oof.” Dr. Picani shook his head as he checked her file. “The mother has requested being able to visit. However....” He frowned as Logan’s heart leapt up his throat. “... she specifically requested that she wants her child raised by a couple. You’re not-”

“No,” Logan replied with a sigh and gently ran his hand over her rosy cheeks one last time as he set her back down in her crib with the utmost care, ignoring the way his soul screamed . “Single.”

“Mmm indeed. Forgive me, I almost forgot, which was silly of me.” He sighed. “Well, there are plenty of other children whose parents have-”

But he was cut off by an ear-splitting scream shook the room, causing the other babies to startle and cry.

“Oh no, oh dear-!” Dr. Picani and another caretaker moved quickly toward the room of medical cribs. “Forgive us, this little gem is in a lot of pain.”

Logan followed worriedly; the screaming and shrieking tugged at his heart. He entered the other room where they shut the door behind him and he watched Dr. Picani gently reach his hands into the crib and bring the tiniest infant he’d ever seen from the crib. He was not hooked up to any monitors but the room was definitely warmer than the other and smelled even more sterile.

“Is the baby alright?” Logan asked, tone laced heavily with concern, and Dr. Picani nodded as the baby screamed and screamed to no avail.

“Colic,” he said softly as he rubbed the baby’s back in soothing motions. “Poor thing has a lot of tummy pain. But he screams so loudly we can’t keep him near the other little ones or they don’t sleep.” He winced as another wail pierced the room. “I am so sorry, it’s like a Howler Owl is in here. I offer my sincerest condolences for your ears.”

But Logan wasn’t looking at Dr. Picani; his eyes were locked onto the crying little baby, who was sobbing hard enough to almost puke in the other’s gentle grip. His heart ached, yearning to protect him and he held his hands out.

“May I?” he asked.

“Oh! Of course!” Dr. Picani said with a veiled note of surprise as he set him in Logan’s waiting arm, “Don’t shake him, it’s quite tempting for frustrated parents; I highly advise against it no matter how loud he cries.”

“I would never,” Logan whispered as he held the squirming infant closer, supporting his head in the cradle of his arm. “I would rather die than harm this little teardrop of starlight.”

The baby had a tuft of black hair stark against pale sickly skin that sheened with sweat as he squirmed in his gentle yet firm hold. He was so small, a lima bean almost, while the other babies around the ward were hulking giants by comparison. His hands and legs kicked as he let out another hearty wail.

Logan shushed him gently as he bent down and let his forehead bump against the fragile infant with the barest of touches. His skin so soft and supple even if it was slick with tears and sweat at the moment. Those tears bigger than any he had ever seen on a child; filled with so much discomfort and sadness, they fell in big rivers from where they pooled inside his eyes. His pale little face was so blotchy.

Logan felt his heartstrings pulled taut like a bowstring and the pang in his chest returned at the sight of his unyielding struggles.

“I know you’re in pain, little one. You have known nothing else, have you?” Logan whispered, reverent in his tone and his only answer was shuddering, unending sobs. “You are incredibly tiny, aren’t you? Hmm, how old are you?”

He heard the rustle of papers again, and then Dr. Picani’s buttery smooth reply of “About three months now.”

“He’s so young....” Logan said gently and soothingly shushed the baby. He squirmed and cried and it was loud in his ears, but he couldn’t help it and Logan understood that. “Where are his parents?”

For the first time, Dr. Picani lost that perpetual smile.

“He’s an orphan. His parents died when his house caught on fire. Firefighters said it was a faulty oven.” The doctor leaned over to brush a hand over Virgil’s head. “Boy’s a miracle, I tell you. He spent weeks in the infant ICU to recover the damage in his lungs.” Dr. Picani smiled as he brushed away a tear, clearly distressed but proud of the little bean. “He is a fighter.”

“But what about the rest of his relatives?”

Dr. Picani pulled away as a dark look crossed his face.

“None that would take him. They refused to accept a ‘devil baby’.” He glared down at the file he held. “Their words not mine. His relatives think he’s bad luck and don’t consider him part of the family tree. Disowned and discarded as if something this small and helpless could bring misfortune on them like some Scooby Doo villain.”

“Utter nonsense.” Logan resisted the urge to hold the baby tighter in his arms, as if he could shield from the dangerous ignorance of the world. Logan shifted from foot to foot as the baby calmed into mere sniffles; a respite from his pained sobbing. Logan stared at the baby he held, swaddled in soft blue blankets, and remembered the long days of waiting.

Dreams haunted him as a child, of a carriage and pealing laughter as children ran around clutching at his legs. Soft blurry dreams of him rushing to put a band-aid on a skinned knee, small hands that grasped around his neck, and of everlasting sunny days as he played with them in their white picket fence yard. Fatherhood felt more like a wonderful dream than a societal milestone. It was his one life goal, more than his career, and more than his love life. He’d been dreaming of the idea long before he even knew what it entailed.

Round dark eyes met his own and he felt the breath knocked out of him. The awareness that stared back at him fascinated him. This was a human in the making. It will go through various developmental stages until one day it will dream a little dream of its own. Rock star, astrobiologist, writer, or even stunt devil.

He rocked the baby gently, never breaking his stare; his sniffles disappeared as he watched Logan in rapt awe. Curiosity, even. The infant squirmed in his swaddle and thrusted a pudgy hand up at him. His little fingers clenched around his own finger and he watched the baby’s eyes light up despite the pain.

“Oh,” Dr. Picani said, his voice the gentlest he’s ever heard in two years of knowing him. “Are you quite alright?”

“Yes, why do you ask?” Logan croaked as the baby tilted his little head in surprise.

“Sir, you’re crying.”

Logan blinked, but it was true. Tears leaked out of his eyes in steady trickles and he could feel the cold of their rivers running down the sides of his face. He hadn’t even realized. He wondered how strange he must look with tears dripping down his cheeks and he could do nothing more than blink at the doctor in dumbfounded stupidity. He heard a quiet little squeak from the baby he held as he squirmed. His tears were cold but his arms were too full to brush them away.

“This one.” Logan said firmly, facing Dr. Picani head on. “Please.”

Dr. Picani’s eyes went wide at the uncharacteristic voice crack. “A-are you sure? We have other children in the playroom that will be more suited to your needs. He will be very fussy and it will take quite a while for him to recover yet so he may scream all that time. I rather recommend him to a family with experience already and-”

“This one.” Logan said, his voice laced with hard steel.

This was the child he wanted to raise; the one he wanted to dedicate his life to. In an instant he could imagine this little one’s future and its trillions of different changing variables, he knew with absolute certainty he wanted to give this baby a home and love him to the best of his ability.

“What’s his name?” He asked with a smile.

Dr. Picani scratched something on his clipboard and looked up, his eyes searching into Logan one last time before his shoulders dropped.

“Virgil. His name is Virgil.”

Logan pulled his finger away from Virgil’s grip to trace his round cheeks. Still that distressing shade of paleness. Virgil let out a little gurgle and leaned into his warm hand. If he wasn’t crying before, he certainly was now. Tears blurred his vision so much he could barely see. He didn’t believe in a Heaven, but the sheer amounts of dopamine flooding into his system made him more susceptible to believe he was there. Virgil’s brown eyes twinkled with faint starlight.

He was never more sure of anything in his entire life. Previous worries and concerns be damned. He wanted to raise Virgil as his son (or any other gender he was comfortable with later in life) as his own. Logan never understood feelings, or why the thought of letting Virgil go made his skin itchy, but he did understand that this was it. His dream: realized. He had no wife, and no man to take his hand now at twenty-six years old. He had accepted it was never going to happen.

So Logan couldn’t bear to wait another day.

Virgil gurgled and let out a small little giggle as he squirmed in Logan’s careful hold.

“Yes,” Logan smiled, a soft and quiet one as he looked up at Dr. Picani. “Thank you. I cannot express it enough but… thank you.”

Next Chapter

[geek-patient-zero]

Part 1, Chapter 5

Or: Flavia Becomes an Actual Character

Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Death Trilogy Volume 1

Back in St. Louis, Dire McCann’s back in his office by 3 AM.

It had been a long, brutal evening. One filled with more surprises than he imagined possible. Both during the reign of the Red Death... and after.

As he kicks back in his armchair, feet on his desk, the story immediately flashes back to the Club Diabolique. McCann had spent an hour or so in a relatable work predicament: being trapped in a room with your boss while he’s having a temper tantrum.

The room cleared of his brood, Vargoss had spent more than an hour raging to McCann about his progeny’s cowardice. The detective and the Dark Angels had been the only ones who had attempted to save the Prince from the Final Death. Vargoss made it quite clear that in nights to come, the regulars of the Club would pay for their weakness.

“I’m charging everyone extra for drinks! And- And you know what? No more casual Fridays! You come here dressed to the nines or you stay downstairs with the pale human children! Oh, and those jazz men! They didn’t help me either! No more jazz for the rest of the year! Until then it’s 50′s high school prom music, played by the whitest people I can find!”

“But sir, what will you listen to?”

“I’m the Prince of St. Louis, Dire McCann! I obviously have a Walkman.”

Although the Prince didn’t address the issue, there was no question that the Red Death’s attack had frightened him badly. Vargoss had exerted the full power of his will against the monster, without success. The vampire knew he had escaped the Final Death by luck alone. And there was no certainty that the Red Death would not return.

Once the old man finally tuckers himself out, he commands McCann to come back next evening and bids him goodnight, retreating through a secret passage to his inner sanctum in the subbasement.

McCann suspected the vampire planned phoning the other Ventrue elders throughout the United States to warn them of the attack.

Either that or take a post-rage nap.

His exit left McCann alone with Flavia.

“Sir, I’m not good with sexy grieving women. Sir, Prince Vargoss, don’t leave me alone with- Ah shit...”

The other vampires and ghouls in the Club were already long gone by this point.

Tonight, none of them evidenced any desire to wear the Prince’s crown. The Red Death served as a grim reminder of the perils of leadership.

But then maybe there was another reason none of them tried to save Vargoss... Nah, they were just terrified. That’s the thing about this setting. Characters are always plotting against you and each other and having ulterior motives so during those rare moments where someone’s being sincere it’s still easy to be paranoid. Most of the time, you’d be right to be so.

Back to poor Flavia. The whole time during what McCann’s POV describes as “Vargoss’ tiresome outburst” she sat on the floor, holding the burnt remains of her sister’s jumpsuit, unmoving, devastated. McCann, the big softie, feels compelled to say something. They’ve never really communicated before, beyond her and her sister making suggestive facial expressions at him and him trying to ignore them, so he goes with a safe Klingon approach.

“She died fighting,” he declared softly, stepping within a few feet of Flavia. Sympathy was fine, but not stupidity. If the Dark Angel took offense at his words, the detective wanted enough room to defend himself. “It was an honorable death.”

“She died horribly, in pain and screaming, and would have pissed herself if that were a thing vampires could still do, but she died the right way according to your strange and self-destructive warrior culture. W-What are you doi-GAAAAAAH!”

In reality, he’d said just the right thing. She looks at him, her cheeks stained crimson, the narration reminding us that vampires cry blood instead of tears, and speaks to him for the first time ever.

“Your concern for my feelings is appreciated, McCann,” she said, in a mellow, low voice, with a surprising trace of a British accent. [...] She cast a quick glance in the direction of the secret stairs leading to Vargoss’ hideaway. “Sympathy is often in short supply among the Kindred.”

There’s another employer getting a bad Glassdoor review.

“The Prince always lavishly praised the services provided by you and your sister,” said the detective, nervously. The last thing he wanted to do was stir up trouble between Vargoss and the remaining Dark Angel. “He treated you with respect.”

“He even showed you respect when he left the room without looking at you. They say that a real man shows his emotions with his back. I believe that’s a Japanese saying. Maybe Korean? Someone somewhere in the world says that... Please don’t kill our boss.”

Then the narration gets pervy for a paragraph.

In a smooth, catlike motion, Flavia rose to her feet. She was, without question, one of the most beautiful women McCann had ever seen.

Down boy. There’s a time and a place.

She had platinum blonde hair, high cheekbones, and wide, sensuous lips.

I’m aware. Those exact features were described back in Chapter One.

Her white leather jumpsuit accented her full breasts, narrow waist, and long, long legs.

Yeah yeah, I get it, she’s hella fine.

Sex might no longer hold any pleasure for the Dark Angel, but her body defined seduction.

Oh for God’s sake, she was just kneeling in her sister ashes! She’s been crying for the past hour and she still hasn’t wiped the bloody tears off her face! Now’s not an appropriate time!

Flavia laughed bitterly. “Respect? Vargoss never truly cared about us. We were his servants. He enjoyed bragging about our skills because it reflected onto himself.”

She smiled sardonically at the detective. “You understand, don’t you, McCann. He does the same with you.”

Without thinking, McCann nodded in agreement. The Prince liked showing off. And he treated his associates as prized possessions to be displayed whenever possible.

Pros for Alexander Vargoss:

Not above entering dirty alleyways when the situation calls for it

Huge balls (metaphorical)

Confidence in his employees’ abilities

Owns a sweet nightclub

Casual Fridays

Cons:

Brags about how he’ll outlive you

Old man opinions about rock music

Likes Stalin

Hour long rants

Unsympathetic toward his employees’ personal problems

Treats his employees like possessions

Tacky fashion sense

As fun as talking shit about the boss is, Flavia without warning changes the subject to her backstory. She and her sister were born Sarah and Eleanor James (she doesn’t say which was which, but next book we're told she's Sarah) in 19th century England. They were traveling around Europe for their fifteenth birthday when a Kindred kidnapped them.

“Our blonde good looks, lightning-fast reactions, and notorious taste for cruel delights caught the attention of a traveling Assamite assassin. He arranged our abduction and had us brought to Alamut.”

I don’t know what to focus on here: that only one of those qualities has anything to do with being an assassin, that the two sexual ones are being used to describe fifteen-year-olds, or how racially charged this whole scenario is with the presumably Middle Eastern man kidnapping two white girls.

“A taste for cruel delights?” repeated McCann.

“What, did you torture small animals to death or something?”

“Did we- No!”

“Oh I know. You’d befriend other rich girls, than systematically ruined their lives by spreading rumors and framing them for major scandals.”

“No! Why are you assuming these horrible things about us!?”

“You’d make your guards beat up random peasants-”

“It’s a sex thing, you wanker!”

“Fawn and I dallied in what now has become commonly known as bondage and S&M,” said Flavia, chuckling. Her long tongue circled her wide lips. “As sisters, we often shared our lovers. Even after we were embraced.”

“...Not at the same time, right?”

“What do you me- Ew! No! Separately!”

“‘Cause I know a lot of men have twin fantasies, but when you really think about it...”

“Well don’t, because that’s not what happened!”

...Wait, what was that about having lovers after they were embraced? I thought Kindred had no interest in sex.

“Despite what you think, McCann, vampires can still enjoy sex. Especially if the stimulation is mental as well as physical.”

The detective took a step back. He definitely did not like the Dark Angel’s tone of voice. Or the hint of an implied invitation.

Hey, you’re the one who wanted clarification on “cruel delights.” Ask a horny question, get a horny answer, Dire.

At Alamut, the twins trained for ten years at a mountain fortress, presumably Alamut Castle. I like to think that after executing the weird pedophile that kidnapped them, the Assamite elders figured “Ah screw it, these girls are already here, let’s teach them to fight.”

“The Assamite elders marveled at our skills. We fought well separately. However, as a team, we were unmatched. It was there that we earned the title The Dark Angels.”

“Unlike some people, we actually earned our nicknames instead of giving ourselves one.”

“For the last time, my name really is Dire.”

They were Embraced at age twenty-five and served the clan for over a century. They worked for many masters all over the world and stayed together the whole time.

“Thirty years ago, we performed several minor executions for Vargoss. Impressed, I suspect, more by our appearance than our skills, he agreed to a long-term contract with the Assamite elders. In three decades, we never failed in our duties to our lord. Until tonight.”

“And that one incident with the True Mime, but that doesn’t count. You can’t kill a True Mime.”

“I doubt stopping the Red Death constitutes a failure on your part,”  replied McCann. “I don’t think a Kindred in existence could have dealt with that monster.”

Flavia nodded. “Perhaps. I hope to meet the Red Death for a second encounter.” She paused, her expression turning grim. “Fawn’s Death will be avenged. I swear it.”  

Sensing that Flavia’s done with her backstory dump, McCann does his private eye thing and, playing dumb, asks her if she knew what discipline the Red Death was using.

“I’ve never heard of a Kindred who could control fire.”

“Nor I,” said Flavia. “I suspect he travels on the Path of Evil Revelation.”

Paths of Enlightenment are what the Sabbat and other not-very-nice vampires use to control their Beast. If they stuck to the Humanity scale like the Camarilla do, then all their mass murder and mustache-twirling villainy would degenerate them into barely sentient blood-crazed monsters in no time. Instead they use Paths, many of whose morality could be, at best, described as “alien”, and at worst, “It is Right and Good to wear a cloak made from the hide of virgins, for it is in the nature of vampires to do so.”

I suspect a Path follower would be the source of the most obnoxious “We are The Dead, we are Monsters, we are Fueled by Blood and must Accept it” speeches one could imagine in the World of Darkness.

The Path of Evil Revelations is an actual thing in the lore. If you don’t want to click the link, the story sums it up:

The Path of Evil Revelation was a secret discipline practiced by many members of the Sabbat. It taught that evil was good and that vampires were the agents of corruption. Followers of the path routinely dealt with demonic forces.

Though it’s less “dealt with demonic forces” and more “pledge servitude to the Lords of Hell.” To sum it up even more: You’re Evil, Obey Demons.

McCann then says that he once heard of a forbidden rite called the Body of Fire (presumably from a friend of a friend, right McCann?) and asks if she’d ever heard of it. She hasn’t, but- Oh goddamn it, more things I have to define. She says she only knows of Fires of Inferno, which she says is one of the “Paths of Dark Thaumaturgy” practiced by the Corrupters (a name for followers of the PoER). 

Despite Flavia using the word “Path”, Dark Thaumatergy isn’t a Path of Enlightenment. It’s blood magic learned from demons, unlike regular Thaumatergy, which the Tremere learned by doing mad scientist shit to other vampires. Honestly, origin-wise, I’m not convinced Dark Thaumatergy is the eviler of the two.

Fires of (the) Inferno is the Dark Thaumatergy version of regular Thaumatergy’s Lure of Fire, which allows a vampire to summon “unnatural fire” thought to be from Hell itself. Fires of the Inferno is green, definitely from Hell, and according to the wiki “has only one use: destruction,” meaning you shouldn’t make a campfire using it.

What we get from this is that while some vampires can summon a magic otherworldly fire, they can’t control it and use it as some kind of death aura like the Red Death can. And, y’know, considering that the guy’s not calling himself the Green Death, he likely isn’t using Fires of the Inferno itself. Whatever the case, Flavia says she intends to find out more.

She stepped closer to McCann. “You are an unusual human,” she declared. “Even for a mage, you are aware of too many of the darkest secrets of the Children of Caine.”

Uh oh! The Master Schemer isn’t as good at playing dumb as he thought!

Without warning, Flavia’s right hand lashed out at McCann, second and third fingers stiff and aimed directly at his eyes.

Ah yes, the Moe Howard Strike.

Luckily, our would-be Curly saves himself from a humiliating death by grabbing her wrist using super fast reflexes equal to her own. Wait, using...

Dire McCann, you dumbass.

Flavia laughed, a wild, untamed sound. “No ordinary man could move that swiftly, McCann. Nor stop me from making contact.”

McCann fell for the old “attack the hero in a way that reveals their powers” trick. He tries to backpedal by being all, “Well yeah, I’m not ordinary, I’m a mage!” while mentally cursing himself and realizing that Flavia’s more cunning than he assumed. Flavia’s not having any of his excuses. She got him.

Flavia shook her head, grinning. “No Kine could have halted that lunge. Nor any mage. Don’t worry. I won’t betray you to Vargoss. He pays for my fighting skills, not my thoughts.”

“What are you babbling about?” asked McCann, fearing the worst.

“The hell’s going on? The fanservice bodyguard isn’t suppose to be smart!”

The narration’s been coy so far about what exactly McCann really is. Now, Flavia tells him her theory.

“There are rumors,” said Flavia, “of certain fourth-generation Kindred with incredible powers of domination. They are called Masqueraders. Their minds are so strong that while they lie in torpor, they can reach out and overwhelm a mortal’s personality. They literally possess their victim, body and soul. In this manner, these Methuselahs again experience true life. Puppet masters, they masquerade in mortal form--eating, drinking, sleeping, making love. For safety, they endow their marionette with some of their powers. Enough perhaps for the person to claim to be a ghoul—or a mage.”

“So no, your name really isn’t fucking ‘Dire’.”

...Huh. That’s a doozy. Not what I would guessed, and not a concept I’ve seen in recent V:TM media.

McCann laughed, trying to appear amused. “What utter nonsense.”

Flavia smiled. “Protest all you wish, Dire McCann,” she said. “If you didn’t, I might be worried.”

Then, because this is a nerd book written by a guy, she french kisses him.

Slowly, seductively, she leaned forward and pressed cold lips to his. Her tongue, a sliver of ice, darted for an instant into his mouth. 

Despite her movements being deliberately slower than her attempted eye poke, and her now being well into murder-you-with-my-hands range, something tells me McCann didn’t try very hard to avoid her kiss here.

Also, McCann’s 6′4. Either she’s also really tall or she’s standing on the pile of ashes that were once Fawn to reach his lips.

“I would be very grateful for the patronage of a Methuselah.” Her lush body pressed against him, her taut nipples hard against his chest. “Extremely grateful.”

Hang on. He can feel her nipples through a leather jumpsuit and his own clothes? Can vampire nipples even get hard? Is it a discipline? 

McCann forced himself to remain quiet. He had said too much already.

Since McCann’s shutting the fuck up for his own good, Flavia decides now’s the time to say goodnight. She says that she has to go see Vargoss before he notices she’s not around and gets pissed at that too.

“Do not expect me to address you aloud unless we are alone.” She chuckled. “Vargoss prefers his bodyguards never speak. He enjoys the air of mystery it creates.”

“Although now that I think about it, since he hired us mainly for our looks and doesn’t want us to speak, I’m starting to think he’s just a pig.”

With that, the flashback ends and we’re back in McCann’s office. You forgot that most of this chapter’s technically a flashback, didn’t you?

McCann, sitting behind the desk in his office an hour later, furiously masturbated banged his head against it repeatedly yelling “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” vowed never to show sympathy to anyone ever again sighed heavily. The detective folded his arms across his chest. For all her grief, the Dark Angel had not stayed in mourning very long. He trusted Flavia not to reveal her suspicions to the Prince for as long as it suited her purposes, and not a second more. If not handles properly, the Dark Angel could prove to be as dangerous to him as the Red Death.

McCann’s POV doesn’t out and out say that Flavia’s right, but it doesn’t deny it either.

McCann finally shakes the Flavia incident out of his head and gets to work on finding out more about the Red Death, starting by making some calls. We also get this gem:

A careful man reacted immediately to any threat. And McCann liked to think of himself as very wise.

...No comment.

McCann moves some money around and issues instructions, and when he’s done he’s got teams of researchers studying both the Path of Evil Revelations and whether there are any Nictuku that match the Red Death’s description. Not much is said about these researchers, but hopefully they’re vampires or ghouls, or backed by such, or else McCann’s committing a serious Masquerade breach.

He believes that the Nictuku rising and the Red Death’s arrival are connected, and he opens his desk drawer to get the letters he read back in Chapter 2.

Aaaaaaaaaaaand they’re gone. Someone broke into his office while he was away and stole his letters.

McCann cursed, steadily, in seven languages, including two that had not been spoken on Earth for over three thousand years, until he was out of breath. Angrily, he slammed a fist into the side of the desk. Wood splintered, delivering a small amount of satisfaction along with a strong recognition that he was acting foolishly.

Careful and wise? Maybe. Mature? Eh, that’s up in the air.

He swears not to make the mistake of underestimating his unknown adversary, or adversaries, again. Chapter 5 ends with one last reveal:

It was then that he noticed, resting on the edge of his desk, almost like a calling card, a bright green sequin.

You think Rachel Young carries a jar of those around, or does she just tear them off her dress?