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haloud · 3 years

Text

things we could burn in one go (eminence) - chapter 6

also on ao3

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, starts forlex ends malex, other characters may appear - Freeform, tags subject to update

Chapter Summary: Alex comes home to find his world turned upside down; Max and Isobel struggle to save Michael’s life.

Excerpt:

How close did they come to that chest being stilled forever? The answer was clear, splashed rust-red across Michael’s clothes, and Alex couldn’t stand it, couldn’t reconcile it, couldn’t balance the equation made by Michael this morning and Michael here, now, this.

Alex stood sharp, with a purpose, stood over Michael whose eyes moved rapid behind his lids, Michael who flushed with life but hadn’t lived since being healed, Michael who could so easily be an illusion of hope, snatched away in a second, snuffed out. Jerkily, Alex shot out a hand, then yanked it back, checked over his shoulder for Max or Isobel or—anyone—like a kid with a hand in the cookie jar. A touch so innocuous, necessary, even; Michael shouldn’t be forced to rest with dirty clothes; but. Was he allowed? Was the universe watching?

His hands were heavy; purpose and gravity worked on them, yet with a weightless almost-faith they remembered the hill and valley of Michael’s chest, the texture and temperature of his skin, the cartography, topography of loving him and being loved.

Rain pounded the windshield, and pain pounded Alex’s head, from the back of his neck to behind his eyes. He huffed out short relief when he finally turned down his quiet street and settled back against his seat, no longer needing to squint through the panicked flutter of the windshield wipers at the too-bright lights of other cars as he coasted into his driveway. Parked, he rolled his shoulders back and stretched, heavy eyelids opening and shutting, brain ticking over slowly as it tried to marshal signals to his body to get him out of the car and to the door.

Exhaustion didn’t cover the way everything wore on him. Work, other people, the Project hanging over him like Damocles—how much longer could he hold Fields off without an answer before she took drastic action or moved on, maybe even called Flint in? He had a calendar in the drawer by his bed counting down the days to the end of his contract, hidden away so he didn’t have to explain himself when Forrest stayed over. Not that he relished everything about a return to civilian life, a life he’d never lived as an adult…

Even his loved ones wore on him sometimes. Guilt was another chain around his shoulders, from the way he’d ghosted Kyle for weeks, to shooting down offers from Maria to hang out, to letting his morning call with Liz this week slip from a real conversation to a perfunctory text confirmation that Arturo and Rosa were fine. On top of that, he still hadn’t texted Forrest since he landed, and now Alex was avoiding his phone, the tension of expectation he imagined on the other side of the line too much to bear.

And then there was Michael. Brilliant, stubborn Michael, who reminded him without meaning to how wide a gulf he still had to cross to regain his trust, the trust that Alex would always protect him, no matter what.

But—one day at a time. Hour by hour if he had to. Old advice from the counselor he saw after his injury, but no matter how high the papers piled up in his mental inbox (call your therapist), he hadn’t been able to get himself to book a new appointment with a new one, so he’d do what he could, and fall back on the somewhat insufficient tools he had in his outdated toolbox.

And one day at a time meant getting out of his car, carrying his groceries through the rain, and getting in the front door. Okay.

As he turned to leave the car, something moved in his peripheral vision, and he whipped his head around to chase it. Squinting through sheets of rain and twilight-gray haze, he could just make out a dark shape huddled beneath the overhang, but whether it was human, animal, or object, it was impossible to tell. Through the thundering static downpour, Buffy howled behind the door.

Moving slowly, he retrieved his combat knife from the glove box and cracked the door open. The rain rushed up from a rattle to a roar, loud enough to cover the scrape of his boots against concrete and brick as he crept toward the porch. He was soaked cold within moments, blinking water out of his eyes, still and smooth as a cat after decades of conditioning, every muscle locked to avoid tremor. The closer he got, the louder Buffy grew, barking and slamming herself against the door. A few feet closer, and the shape took form—human, definitely human, adult male by size, but whoever it was, they were slumped beside the door, not crouched, not lying in wait, so Alex lowered his knife.

Still creeping closer, he spoke up, “Hey! Do you need help—”

But before he could get out a single word more, the person lifted their head, and—

“Michael?”

Alex bounded forward the last few feet, dropping his knife with a splash, flinging himself to one knee beside Michael’s huddled form, grasping at his sopping clothes, seeking injury, something, anything.

“Michael, what’s wrong? What—”

He tipped his face up and his head lolled back; his breath rattled in his chest. The only color between his ashen face and rain-black hair was an ugly streak of red from the corner of his mouth across his cheek and chin, and a gust of wind blew the storm against them, washing his blood pink, and then it was gone.

“Michael!” Alex repeated, more urgently, frantically. How did this happen? Who could have done this? Alex’s mind shot straight to his own earlier question—how long would Fields let him go without answering. Was this his answer? Tripp’s dog tags hung leaden around his neck. He could choke on them, on the cold tin symbol of his own inaction, even now.

“Max is already on his way,” Michael said, voice breathy and labored, then laughed, a bizarre and throaty caricature of his normal laugh, and his elbow bent robotically to let him tap his temple. “Called him.”

“Why didn’t you go straight to him so he could heal you? Michael? Michael!”

But he was gone; his eyes rolled back to whites, and he slumped strings-cut so Alex almost dove to catch him in his arms; his hand fell from his head to the brick patio and struck the ground with the force of gravity, skinning his knuckles.

It took seconds for Alex to process his shock—seconds Michael might not have to waste, but nonetheless--the rain had his hands slipping on his skin, so Alex held on tighter, clutching Michael’s head to his chest, curling his body around him on the most animal instinct to shield, shelter, protect.

Despite the cold downpour, Michael’s skin was feverish, his breathing bad and worsening, his pulse fast and weak. Bracing his weight on his good leg, Alex pulled Michael over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and stood and unlocked the door.

Buffy’s barking stopped as it swung open; she scrambled around Alex’s feet, pawing at his legs, herding him inside, sniffing at Michael’s fingertips that dangled inches from the ground. Panting, Alex hauled him to the couch and set him down.

Inside, out of the rain, Michael somehow looked worse. His entire front was soaked with blood along with rain; he stank of it, all copper and salt, and bile rose in Alex’s throat. He held his breath and grabbed a towel.

“Gonna ruin your stuff,” Michael rasped. “Gonna ruin…”

Milliseconds before pressing call to figure out how far away Max was, Alex dropped his phone from numb fingers as Michael—there was no word for it, for a second, a heartbeat, Alex lost all faith in his own eyes—as Michael blurred and disappeared and blurred and reappeared a few feet away, whining like a shot doe.

“What the f—Michael!”

“Alex!” Max’s voice bellowed. A fist pounded on the door, shaking the entire frame.

“It’s open!” Alex called back, dropping to the ground beside Michael again and lifting his head into his lap. “Michael,” his voice broke as Max threw the door open. “Michael, what happened? What’s happening?”

His only answer was a babble, words Alex couldn’t understand, words that doubled, tripled in on themselves, moved backwards to forwards and slid out of Alex’s mind the second he heard them, alien, unknowable.

“Michael!” The word wrenched out of Max’s mouth. Buffy paced behind him, whining, letting out a single loud, anxious bark that went unanswered as all the energy in the room funneled toward Michael.

“Hey—[][][][][][][],” Michael said, a horrible, gasping laugh rattling out of his chest.

As the words left his mouth, he groaned and curled in on himself, choking, splattering himself with more blood as it bubbled up between his teeth; then Alex had to strain to hold him still as his back snapped into an arch. Light flashed, then flashed again, and Alex’s logical mind wanted to call it lightning but—but it wasn’t. It came from inside Michael, as all the strength left his muscles and he collapsed, again, limp against Alex. He was so feverishly hot, even for him.

“What the fuck,” Alex whispered. His mind came up blank for anything else to say; his hands tightened, one hand’s nails digging into his bicep, a fistful of bloody shirt in his other. Michael tipped his head to the side, nodding against Alex’s chest.

“Alex,” he croaked.

“I’m here.” To Max, he repeated, “What the fuck? I saw him just a few hours ago, what the hell happened?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Max said, reaching out to grab him.

Alex’s hands tightened more, on pure instinct, clutching Michael to his body, but then he forced himself to let him go, to let Max lay hands on him.

Max continued, “I heard him in my head, like he screamed in my ear, and I just—knew he’d be here, somehow. It’s not normal, it’s not—we never hear Michael, he’s always closed off. I don’t know what happened.”

As he spoke, his hands wandered over Michael, across the bloodstains on his chest and neck. His brow furrowed; he moved as if on autopilot, until his hands found purchase on Michael’s temples, and he closed his eyes. Softly, his hands began to glow, and Alex held his breath.

If Max couldn’t fix him…

No. He wouldn’t even entertain the thought for a second, not when his body still tingled with the sense memory of Michael’s living heat. He couldn’t die; it went against nature.

Max grunted, and his exertion pulled Alex back down to earth. He couldn’t do anything for Michael that Max couldn’t right now, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be helpful. Levering himself to his feet, he headed for the bathroom, Buffy following, barking anxiously. Wrenching open the medicine cabinet, he downed two Tylenol dry to head off the pain in his leg and hip he knew was coming, then from under the sink he snatched a fresh bottle of acetone and marched back to the den.

There, it was something out of a horror movie, rain lashing the windows, lit only by the artificial twilight of an afternoon storm, Michael spread out, skin grey, blood red, Max hunched over him looking half as sick, and Alex thrust the bottle at him.

“Drink,” he ordered, and as Max obeyed, guzzling the acetone, gasping between gulps, Alex returned to where he belonged—at Michael’s other side, holding on to him as if their bodies touching would be enough to keep his spirit tethered to this world—the only world—that is, the world they shared together, rendering all others that may exist utterly meaningless.

As nightmarish a scene as they made, Alex let out a sigh of relief when he clutched Michael’s wrist and felt his pulse strengthen. His eyes moved rapidly under his lids; his breathing was regular.

“It’s working,” Alex said, voice croaking out through a thickened throat.

“I hope,” Max groaned. “His mind is like—it’s like an animal fighting back. I need Isobel, I called her, but I’m afraid if she went in we’d lose her too. I can’t think—” his eyes met Alex’s, terrified. “It has to be Jones. Jones did something, I can’t think of anything else that might have done this.”

Alex could. But he seized on the opportunity to have an enemy he could exact answers from, one that didn’t lie at his own front door.

Absentmindedly, searching for soothing and knowing on a base level where it lived, Alex ran his fingers through Michael’s rain-soaked, sweat-soaked hair, stroking it away from his forehead. Blood was drying in rivulets now on Michael’s face and neck, and Alex followed the path of one with the tip of his finger, from the corner of his eye down his cheek.

How close had he come to losing him? If he’d been stuck in traffic, if he’d stopped for coffee on the way home, would it have been too late?

No. No thinking like that now. Stay in the moment.

“What do you need?” he asked Max, who finished off the acetone and tossed the bottle aside, reaching for Michael again.

“I think I won’t know until Michael wakes up again. If he does. If not…Isobel will be here soon.”

“When you heal, can you feel what it is you’re healing? Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

“Sort of?” Max’s hands began to glow again. “I’m healing burst blood vessels—all over his body. Internal scarring, almost like burns, it’s—bizarre.” He shuddered. “What I can feel from his head is separate, and I’ve never felt anything like it before.”

Michael shivered in Alex’s arms as Max placed his hands on his head again and filled his body with light, and Alex kept his eyes on Max, watching for any sign he was hitting his limit.

“How’s your heart?” He asked, though the concern flowed bitter and false over his tongue. Even at his coldest, most calculating, he wouldn’t bring himself to sacrifice Max outright, but if Max had to give his life to save Michael’s, would Alex truly stop him?

“I’ll live,” Max replied through gritted teeth.

Over by the door, Buffy rattled off a series of barks, getting louder and louder until the door slammed open. Alex flinched at the sound, hand flying to where his gun would be if he was wearing it, even though he knew with near-certainty who it would be.

“Where is he?” Isobel shouted, red-faced and panting as she rounded the corner into the living room, Buffy jumping and barking at her heels. “Michael!”

“Iz!”

The glow from Max’s hands faded, and he struggled almost to his feet, but Isobel was there before he stood fully, folding him into the hug he was trying to give her. Then Isobel reached for Michael, shoving Alex aside so she could cling to her brother, and Alex went.

She made a strangled noise when he was in her arms, limp and lifeless even after all Max’s effort.

“I’ll get more acetone. Maybe he’ll drink some,” Alex said, using the couch to pull himself to his feet.

Isobel continued to ignore him, but Max grabbed Alex’s wrist and said a quiet thank you as Alex left the siblings alone.

The bathroom door snicked closed behind Alex before he turned the light on, and in the dark he breathed in deep and deliberate until his lungs no longer caught on every inhale against his aching ribs, his galloping heart. He white-knuckled the sides of the sink to keep himself upright until the shaking stopped.

And when he checked all his welds and seams and found himself still watertight, he turned the light on, met his own eyes in the mirror, just once, and got back to business, grabbing the rest of the eight-pack of acetone.

Before he opened the door, his phone buzzed, and he flicked it open. It was a text from Forrest.

Hey! Just got back to the hotel after dinner. Having a great time so far…but I keep thinking I’d have more fun with you here. How’s my girl doing? And how’s my man?

Alex’s thumb hovered over the keyboard for a few seconds, lips pressed together, head blank of anything to say. Then, a lump in his throat, he shut it down without replying, and headed back to Michael and the Evanses.

He breathed a little easier when he re-entered the room and was met with a different scene than before. Max and Isobel had Michael laid out on the couch—and Alex’s mind flashed back to the way Michael had disappeared and reappeared and what the fuck was that?—and he rested more peacefully than he had before. Color was coming back to his skin.

Isobel sat on the arm of the couch, stroking Michael’s hair off his forehead, while Max sat on the floor at the other end, back against the couch.

“Thank you, Alex,” Isobel said, acknowledging him for the first time.

Alex acknowledged her back with a nod, as Buffy paced from the couch to the door and back again a few times, finally settling with a whuff against Max, resting her head on his thigh, looking up at him with huge, soft eyes.

“Hey girl,” he said softly, petting her ears.

“How is he?” Alex asked.

“Alive. Sleeping.” Isobel ran her hand across his forehead again. “We’ll see where his mind is when he wakes up.”

Alex sat on the piano bench, folding his hands between his knees. “Max kept saying he’d never felt anything like this before. Can you describe it to me?”

She groaned and rubbed her temples, and Max nudged a bottle of acetone closer to her. “It’s almost like interference, but not. There’s nothing in there that isn’t Michael; he’s not possessed. But it’s like Michael’s been repeated. A thousand different Michaels all shouting at once. He’s quieter now. But…I don’t know.”

Watching Michael’s face, approaching peaceful in an unconsciousness Alex was too fearful to be fooled by, Alex spoke slowly, uncertainly.

“When you discovered you could use telekinesis alongside your other powers, what was that like? Was it spontaneous, or…?”

“Not really? Noah said that we all had the potential for much more than we imagined, and—after—I was so angry, I thought, if Michael can use his anger this way, why not me?” She shrugged an elegant shoulder. “So I wouldn’t call it spontaneous. I could always have done it, I just never thought to, until I did. Like knowing how to swim and learning a new stroke. I was clumsy at it at first, but I was just doing something I already knew how to do in a different way.”

“Hm.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Before you both got here, Michael was…”

“He called me. Like your psychic scream, Isobel, except he’s never done that before. And he kept emitting light. While I was healing him,” Max said, looking up at Isobel. “Flashes of light. Not electricity.”

“And before you got here, he—teleported. Only word for it. Something none of you have ever done.”

“What?”

Isobel grabbed Michael’s shoulder tightly, like he might disappear right in front of her, like she could stop him. Max just shook his head silently. He really did look awful, eyes red, dark bruises beneath them, a shakiness to him that hadn’t been there last time Alex saw him, some random Thursday when he brought marshmallows to Michael’s because he’d never actually had a smore that wasn’t made in the microwave. Maybe his condition came down to the rigors of saving someone’s life with your own, but considering how worried Michael had been for weeks, Alex thought not.

“I don’t know,” Alex said, dragging his hands over his face. “None of us know. We’re just talking in circles.”

“I guess we just have to wait for Michael to tell us,” Max said.

“Or we go beat it out of that bearded f—”

“No, Isobel.”

“You can’t keep defending him.” Her voice went high and loud, zero to a hundred. “Look what he’s done! He almost killed Michael, what is wrong with you?”

“I’m not defending him!” Max shot back, wounded. “I’m telling you not to go running off on some half-cocked vengeance scheme when Michael still needs you here! If he’s lost inside his own head somehow, there’s no one who can help him but you. We’ll deal with Jones later, when we know Michael is safe.”

Isobel growled but capitulated.

Not letting any ugly silence settle, Alex got up and said, “I’ll put some coffee on.”

They watched over Michael for all the rest of that evening and into the night, as the storm quieted and the sun set and Michael’s hair dried into a familiar halo of curls. At some point, Isobel brought Alex’s groceries in, half-ruined, and Max made dinner with whatever could be salvaged. While they worked, Alex sat with Michael in a chair pulled up to the couch where he lay, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.

They started slowly. He eased up the hem of Michael’s ruined t-shirt with a pinch of fabric, without touching his body at all; he inched it up his back where it rested against the couch, until he ran out of room to work with cloth alone. The shirt bunched around his underarms.

Alex had no choice but to touch, so he did.

His hand still fit the circumference of Michael’s arm, and he lifted it. Michael moved without resistance, idle art in living warmth, velvet skin, liquid veins. Alex moved as if he was as delicate as glass. The second arm was no easier; Alex worked just as tenderly, every inch of his skin lit up with sensation. Leave no trace, like Michael’s body was some untouched scrap of woodland in Alex’s brief custody rather than the sweetly historied path toward home. But that was where Alex was right now, what time and choice made of them.

He pulled the shirt over Michael’s head, and it came away easy in his hands, and he went to his bedroom to get a new one.

The whole thing took less than a minute.

Michael slept on.

“Any change?” Max asked softly, handing Alex a plate of the dinner he’d already forgotten about. Buffy followed him from the kitchen, but she didn’t go after the food, opting for her bed beside the piano, where she continued to watch Max with adoring eyes. He didn’t comment on Michael’s shirt, for which Alex was pathetically grateful. In the kitchen, the water ran as Isobel did the dishes.

“No. Can…you sense any change? Through your bond, or through a handprint?”

“No. Maybe? When I first got here, he took up so much space, metaphorically, psychically, that it was almost hard to breathe. He feels more like himself now. Like he fits inside his body. So that’s probably good.”

“Probably,” Alex agreed.

The water shut off, and Isobel appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “I’m going in,” she said flatly.

“What?” Max asked.

“His head. I’m going in. I need to see what he’s seeing; to try and pull him out. This?” she waved a hand at Michael. “Isn’t normal. Liz died and she wasn’t out this long. I’m going in to get our brother back.”

Take me with you? Alex almost said it, almost begged, as much a violation of trust as it would be to walk Michael’s mind uninvited. But as Max healed his body, as Isobel healed his mind, Alex was helpless to do anything, and he never wore helplessness well. It clawed its way out of him. It destroyed things if he failed to catch it in time.

But he held its leash tight, for now, and gave Isobel an equally tight nod.

“What do you need?”

“Space. No interruptions. It seems like you’ve got enough acetone”—five bottles were still left at the foot of the couch—“so I just need time.”

“You can have the guest bedroom,” Alex agreed.

He and Max carried Michael between them, sharing his weight. Some rearing and needy part of Alex wanted to do the work himself, bundle Michael in his arms and hold him close, but he’d already carried him once today, and Tylenol only went so far. Once he was situated on the bed, Max went to get acetone and water for Isobel.

Weak in the legs, Alex sat beside Michael’s head, never taking his eyes off him. He couldn’t; he wouldn’t. And neither was it a possibility for him to reach out and touch his hair, his forehead, his cheek, so he only watched.

In the door, Isobel cleared her throat. She held both liquids—Max had put them in different-colored cups—and set them on the bedside table before sitting on Michael’s other side.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Alex said, but made no move to go.

After a few seconds, Isobel made a frustrated noise and tossed her hair. “Whatever. You can stay.”

“I—really?”

“It’ll be boring, and if it freaks you out, you can’t interrupt. But yeah.” Alex opened his mouth to respond, but Isobel just held up a hand. “I don’t pretend to understand your weird alien soulmate bullshit. Yours or Max and Liz’s. And I don’t really care what your deal is with Forrest Long, but if you mess my brother around, I’ll end you.”

“I’m not—”

“Again, don’t care. I just know…” she softened. “…I just know how much you mean to Michael. So you can stay.”

Alex swallowed, the lump in his throat too big for him to answer with words, so he nodded, and Isobel nodded back.

“Okay. Starting now.”

Her eyes slipped closed as she lifted Michael’s hand and pressed it between both her own.

The world didn’t change; no power within Alex’s senses rippled between the two of them. Isobel wasn’t wrong to call it boring, as even the uncertain anxiety of what was transpiring in Michael’s head couldn’t keep his attention from wandering. Half an hour in, Max came into the room to stand beside the bed as well, and he clapped a hand on Alex’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze, an attempt that reassured neither of them. But it was a brother’s touch, and that meant something.

In that room, throughout that silent ordeal, they were family. Alex was part of that family. It was a feeling he had no room on the shelves for; it fit in none of his boxes. He could barely comprehend it, so it sat in the center of the floor, and for a few hours, everything rearranged itself neatly around the new centerpiece of his world, like it was meant to be there all along.

The night deepened on, pain and exhaustion graying Alex’s vision. Discretion and strategy overtaking his determination, he was close to calling it quits and attempting a few hours of sleep when Isobel surfaced, bone white and nose bleeding as Max scrambled to hand her the acetone.

“Did it—”

Max didn’t even finish the sentence before, with a drowning, sucking gasp, Michael followed her out. Alex shouted, elation, shock, fear, everything, as Michael coughed and coughed until a clot of blood dislodged from his throat, guzzling the water that Alex passed him. His bloodshot eyes met Alex’s over the rim of the glass, confused and shocked, and Alex just nodded, trying to say without words everything that…just everything.

Everything.

On Michael’s other side, Isobel was laughing, breathless and triumphant.

“I’m going to kill you! I’m going to fucking kill you,” she wheezed, throwing herself into Michael’s arms.

Michael’s eyes fell shut as he rested his head against hers. “I know,” he rasped in return, but his lips pulled into a smile anyway. “I know.”

“Michael,” Max said weakly.

And Michael replied, “I know.”

Max rounded the bed to fold the both of them into a hug. Alex might have even joined them, if he wasn’t—he realized only now—shaking too badly to move. But in the midst of all the sensory overload, the misfiring nerves electrifying his helpless flesh, one sensation rang true.

Alex’s hands rested on the bed, stiff and motionless, until one of Michael’s crossed that untouched skin, light at first then more firmly, finger atop finger, knuckle nestled into soft palm, and Michael held his hand and gave it a squeeze, and Alex squeezed him back.

#malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #malex #roswell new mexico #rnm fic #max evans #isobel evans #my fic

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charmedtheselfproclaimedking · 4 years

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Charmed Again: Season 3 (Charmed Fanfic)

Episode 8 - Charmed Condolences (Finale)

Warnings: I don’t own the rights to any of the characters from the hit TV show “Charmed” or the storylines related to the show those rights belong to original creator Constance M Burge.

15+ Moderate/Graphic Displays of Violence, Sexual Innuendos, Witchcraft and Potentially Triggering Scenes.

Many Years Ago

Pan knocked on Paul’s bedroom door before walking in to find him standing next to Drake’s cot while a baby Drake was fast asleep as the two shared a smile before sitting down on the edge of his bed.

“I know mum’s right I know it but it’s going to be so hard saying goodbye.” Paul admitted to his sister. “I know I’m going to have to be selfless and give him the best life I can possible give, but I just don’t want to not see him every day.”

“Listen our mother is purely talking out of fear and I know things are complicated with Eve and everything but I reckon we could all give it a go raising him and with us all there for him he’ll turn out perfect.” Pan suggested.

“She’s not wrong though I mean our Uncle Chris died way too young and we don’t even speak about Uncle Wyatt’s descent into madness that’s not to mention our cousins our entire family let’s face it this whole family is cursed.” Paul revealed. “I don’t want that life for him I want him to be happy, free and to live a long life that let’s face it neither of us are ever really going to have.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Pan said as she hugged into her brother. “I just wish our life didn’t have to be sacrifice after sacrifice.”

“Me too but at least I’ll be happy knowing my son’s life won’t be like ours.” Paul replied.

Present Day

A recently homeward bound Drake walked into the attic of the Halliwell Manor with a look of hurt and heartbreak on his face, this being the first time the Halliwell hybrid had been back home since the deaths of his father Paul Halliwell and his aunt Pan Morgan-Halliwell.

It had only been about a month but for him it felt like a lifetime as he walked over to the book of shadows until he was stood behind the closed book. He paused for a moment reluctant to open it believing it would restart his duties as a charmed one but as often was the case within this house he wasn’t given much choice before the book flipped open by itself continuing to flip by itself through pages after pages until stopping at the to call a lost witch spell.

“Power of the witches rise course unseen across the skies. Come to us who call you near come to us and settle here.” Drake began to chant. “Blood to blood I summon thee blood to blood return to me.”

Drake looked around hoping for a moment he’d be reunited with his father or aunt hoping for a moment this spell would change their fate only for nothing to happen breaking his heart once again.

Somewhere in New York City Penny Craft found herself running down a street alleyway chasing after her bounty a tall bald man who had skipped his court date and just as she was closing in on the perp she suddenly found herself hit in the face by a newspaper that appeared out of nowhere causing her to misstep and fall into a nearby stack of bin bags.

By the time she pulled the newspaper of her and climbed out of the trash her perp was already gone much to her frustration only to find the same newspaper rustling at her feet so she decided the pick up this pestering newspaper and read what it had to say.

“Hey…” She mumbled to herself. “Isn’t that my baby blanket?”

Elsewhere in New York, Rose Craft found herself waking up in a large king size bed wearing just her underwear with a man asleep to her right and a woman asleep to her left as she quietly climbed out of the bed not to wake the couple and began gathering her clothes before making her escape into the hallway once fully clothed before quietly making her way to the apartment door, opening the door to find a newspaper on the doorstep which she quickly picked up and began to read after closing the door and walking into the apartment building’s hallway.

Rose didn’t get very far reading the paper before she noticed the picture of a baby blanket under an article about a missing child which is when she also realized the newspaper itself was dated

“What the hell is going on here?” She asked herself as she pulled her phone out her jacket after stopping outside the apartment building’s elevator before dialing a number and waiting for the person to answer. “We need to talk like straight away.”

The next morning a fully dressed in black Drake found himself stood in the doorway of his father’s bedroom tears falling down his eyes as he investigated a room that no longer held anything but ghosts and memories.

“I miss him too, but I can’t begin to fathom what you must be feeling right now Drake.” Raven said to him after shimmering into the room and taking a seat on Paul’s bed. “We should’ve taken the premonition more seriously, but they had so many like that they were convinced they could handle it all.”

“I know I guess we all got kind of a little too confident with all this.” Drake admitted as he dried his eyes and walked over to Raven before sitting down next to her. “The power of three made us believe we would survive anything together, but I guess even being charmed doesn’t guarantee you’re safe.”

“I wish I had done something reacted faster we just never imagined it’d be a human let alone one who came with loaded anti-magic bullets I mean I knew there was anti-magic objects in the world but nothing like this.” Raven cried as Drake grabbed a hold of her hand. “I wanted to save them both so badly Drake but once Lacey’s healing didn’t work on them it was only a matter of time.”

“There was nothing that you could do if only I was there…” Drake began to say.

“No if you were there you probably would’ve just wound up dead too the only saving grace in all of this is you live on that’s all your father wanted for you to be safe.” Raven butted in, determined to make sure Drake never blamed himself. “None of this is anyone’s fault except for the bitch who shot them.”

“You’re right.” Drake replied as he pulled a crying Raven in for a hug. “Well the bitch who shot them and the one who hired her to do so.”

“Yes, but sadly Lacey got a bit too trigger happy to ask those kinds of questions.” Raven revealed to Drake as they broke off their hug. “Cole’s currently chasing a lead with a seer down in the Underworld hopefully we’ll get some answers even if there’s nothing we can really do with those answers unless demons are hiring humans to do their dirty work now.”

“Yeah well I guess with the whole charmed being reborn yet again maybe one of them will get a premonition that’ll get whoever did this with some magical solution on how to deal with them in the process.” Drake told his late father’s grieving girlfriend.

“Wait, are you seriously going to go ahead with restoring the power of three?” Raven asked in shock as she stood up. “You already restored the power of three and got no thanks for it you don’t owe them anything.”

“I know that’s not true but they need three to complete the set and I know the amount of good we can do and I can’t be the reason that good doesn’t happen because then whoever killed my dad and Pan will really win.” Drake answered as he stood up to face Raven.

“I still can’t believe my lovely receptionist Patty Craft was Paul and Pan’s long-lost sister Patience all this time I mean she was so close to us all before she died…I can’t believe her two daughters are going to be charmed ones.” Raven admitted. “That sort of makes your dad and his siblings the real second generation’s answer to the charmed ones and you are your cousins the third.”

“Yeah I suppose it does I never really thought of it like that…too busy trying to get my ass out of jail before getting busy with all this funeral stuff.” Drake explained to her. “Then there’s the club, my father’s shares in Halliwell and Turner not to mention Pan and his belongings and the whole Lacey going on a killing spree thing.”

“You have already dealt with more than anyone should ever have to deal with it’s okay to be done with it all Drake.” Raven told him as she grabbed a hold of his hand once more. “In fact, getting as far away from Charmed, living your own life and taking Lilah as far away from all this would make your father and probably your aunt happy to see.”

“Try telling that to the rest of the world that needs the charmed ones trust me I want nothing more than to hang up the broomstick and spell book and leave this never-ending misery spiral, but I can’t be selfish.” Drake said before taking a sad sigh.

“Leave it with me!” Raven responded with a cunning smile. “I’ll be back before the funeral I’m going to find a way for you to be as selfish as you want to be.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Drake asked to no answer as Raven shimmered away.

“I was in two minds whether to drop the kid off today or tomorrow, but I figured after your little prison stint you’d be needing our daughter right about now.” Cindy said to Drake as he walked into his bedroom to find Cindy sitting on the side of his bed while his daughter Lilah sat on her lap clearly excited to see her father. “Don’t worry I’ll sit tight with her in the Manor while you attend the funeral.”

“Oh my god daddy has missed you so much.” Drake told his baby girl as he walked towards Lilah and picked her up into his arms, his face lighting up to see his child after such a long time. “Daddy is never letting you go ever again.”

“You do realize mama is right here too you know.” Cindy reminded the Halliwell hybrid as she stood up to face him and their daughter. “I should at least get a hello or something.”

“Hey....I’m sorry I was just so excited to see my girl.” Drake replied before kissing his daughter on the forehead. “Thanks, I really needed some daddy time today it’s good to see you too.”

“I know I’m not one for the whole emotion thing but I’m deeply sorry about Paul and Pan I know how much family means to you if it helps I could totally kill whoever hired the hit I know you’re pure and killing isn’t your thing but I’ve always kind of been on the grey-scale.” Cindy offered him.

“Thanks Cindy but getting people to kill for me still means I got blood on my hands.” Drake laughed.

“Okay I totally won’t kill for you.” Cindy said sarcastically before winking at Drake.

“I mean it don’t kill anybody you’re doing good with the whole redemption thing the last thing Lilah needs is for any of us to go out killing people.” Drake warned her as he continued to hug into his daughter.

“Ugh…fine.” Cindy sighed. “I won’t get any blood on my or your hands.”

“Finally, I was beginning to think elders were still putting all of us demons on mute.” Raven said after Quinn orbed onto the top of the golden gate bridge to meet her.

“I am deeply sorry for your loss Miss Turner especially in your condition.” Quinn apologised to her. “It’s killing Paul that he’s not going to be there for you and your child but take some solace in knowing he is watching over you.”

“Thank you I had a theory he wouldn’t be able to miss all of this…listen I need your help with Drake and it’s going to involve breaking a few rules.” Raven replied to him. “And before you say no I want to remind you that Paul and Pan treated you like family that Drake loved you that…”

“What is it that you want me to do?” Quinn asked, interrupting the pregnant demon.

“Well at first I was going to ask for you to go back in time and stop them both from dying but then I realized destiny wouldn’t allow it because they believe it’s time for another set of charmed ones then I was going to ask you bring them back but death wouldn’t allow that either so I guess all I can do is ask that you help me protect Paul’s children and granddaughter like he would want us both to do.” Raven informed the elder.

“You’re right about Paul and Pan they were my family and they deserved better than this I want so much to reverse it all and see them alive and happy. For Pan to live a long life with her wife Lacey for the two of them to get the children they wanted and for Pan not to have to watch over without being able to stop her wife killing innocent after innocent.” Quinn admitted to her. “I want for Paul to be alive and be there for Drake and his granddaughter and to be there for you and get to raise his and your child together something I’d know he’d love and most of all I want for Drake to be happy, safe and to never have to face the same fate. So, yes Raven I will help you do whatever is needed elders be damned.”

“Good,” Raven responded with a smile. “Now between the both of us we’re going to find Parker Halliwell."

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting to see you today but I’m glad you’re here.” Drake greeted Jake as he walked downstairs to see Jake waiting for him in the foyer.

“Well with Lacey being MIA on a killing spree I figured there had to be some Morgan family representation besides I figured you’d need as many friends as possible right now.” Jake replied to him.

“We’re friends now? I like that we’re friends now.” Drake said with a sincere smile. “It means a lot that you still care after all this time especially after everything.”

“Of course, I do.” Jake admitted. “Besides thank to you I am now living back at my family home and just got a new job so I can’t stay mad at you forever.”

“Well you could, and no one would blame you, you truly are amazing Jake Morgan.” Drake told him as he gave his first love a hug.

“You’re not so bad yourself Drake Black.” Jake responded as he hugged his first love tighter.

“Actually, it’s Drake Black-Halliwell now I’m changing it to incorporate both of my families.” Drake revealed as he broke off the hug.

“I like it.” Jake told him. “How are you holding up?”

“I’ll be better once I get today over with and work out whatever it is that Raven’s up to.” Drake admitted. “It would be better if everyone would give the notion of Charmed 3.0 a miss until after dad and aunt Pan’s funeral.”

“Hold up what exactly is Charmed 3.0?” Jake wondered. “Actually, never mind I’ll save the questions for later.”

“Thanks,” Drake replied. “We will get a hold of Lacey and we’ll get the old her back I promise.”

“Don’t worry too much about that my new job gives me the kind of resources that should help me track her down and try talking some sense in her…if there’s any her left that is.” Jake revealed to the Halliwell hybrid.

“Okay I’m going to do the same to you and ask about this mysterious new job of yours later but as for Lacey she’s still in there she’s just in a really bad place and needs pulling out of it.” Drake said, trying to reassure Jake. “I mean everyone deals with grief differently and she’s lost a lot not that it makes any of what she’s done okay but we will get her back somehow.”

“I miss optimistic Drake he’s not been around in a long time.” Jake stated with a sincere smile.

Raven and Quinn walked into a seedy looking club located within L.A to find Parker Halliwell brawling with another man within a cage in a caged fight as they quickly joined the crowd of onlookers as they watched Parker fight his opponent a fight to which the Halliwell man was quickly winning.

“Remind me again why this guy didn’t get called for duty in the first place?” Raven asked Quinn as they watched Parker’s impressive moves within the cage.

“He did his time so to speak but then disowned everyone after he fixed the whole Wyatt debacle which makes a lot of sense considering Wyatt was his father.” Quinn explained to Raven.

“I’m beginning to think charmed is really just a fancy way of your kind saying cursed.” Raven replied to the elder. “Oh well so he’s going to be a tough sell lucky for us I’m one hell of a lawyer.”

After watching Parker Halliwell become victorious in his cage match they waited patiently until he went to the locker room to change making sure nobody else was in as they followed him.

“Okay here’s the thing I need you to move back to San Francisco and become the third component to the power of three.” Raven revealed to him as her and Quinn came face to face with Parker. “And please don’t say no due to some daddy issues because quite frankly this generation all have daddy issues, I mean every generation does but you lot definitely cry a lot more about them.”

“Excuse me who the hell are you and what did you just say about charmed?” Parker asked, in shock by Raven’s abruptness. “I don’t know who you two are but charmed died a long time ago and I’m done hearing about it.”

“I’m sorry about my friend’s rash approach but we have a funeral to attend soon and emotions are running rather high.” Quinn said to Parker.

“Okay well your clearly either a white lighter or an elder.” Parker replied to Quinn before turning to Raven. “Who are you?”

“My name is Raven and I’m pregnant with your cousin Paul’s second child, but we are here about his firstborn Drake…he was part of the second generation’s charmed ones along with his father and his aunt Pan but they both dead now.” Raven revealed.

“Paul and Pan are dead?” Parker asked with genuine sadness in his voice. “I really thought they’d survive longer than me.”

“Well they never…” Raven said as tears began forming in her eyes before she began allowing herself to cry. “I held his hand as he died…I witnessed them both die and then Drake came home to their bodies…I should’ve been there to stop that from happening to protect him from seeing that like his father would’ve wanted me to.”

“It’s okay.” Quinn told her as he tried to reassure her with a hug only to be brushed away.

“No it’s not okay none of this are okay Paul and Pan are gone, Lacey’s a soulless killer and now Drake’s being dragged into restoring the power of three yet again and I just know if he does it will be the death of him.” Raven cried.

“I am deeply sorry about Paul and Pan they were great people, but I gave up that life a long time ago and for good reason.” Parker explained to them both as Raven finally allowed Quinn to hug her.

“I know and we have no right coming here to ask you in fact I could be in a lot of trouble by so many people for even asking but the thing is Drake’s adoptive parents died in a fire when he was young, then his best friend’s father died at the hands of demons, his mother was killed and then he vanquished his own grandfather.” Quinn rambled. “Not to mention he was brainwashed by a boyfriend, he found his parent and his aunt dead, he went to jail for their murders and the best friend I mention has gone full dark lighter…”

“That sounds like a…” Parker began to say.

“Charmed life.” Raven interrupted before drying her eyes. “I’m so sorry we came here to try and convince you to live a life that has got your entire family killed and for a moment I was considering kidnapping you and forcing you to take his place but the truth is I can’t force you to suffer the same fate he did.”

“Thanks.” Parker responded to her. “You know being a Halliwell isn’t all loss and heartbreak…I got to do remarkable things, save many lives and most of all grow up in a home literally filled with magic.”

“Then why give it up?” Quinn asked Wyatt Halliwell’s son.

“It required too many sacrifices and I decided it was time to live my life for me…which sure meant saying goodbye to my family but at the time after my father’s descent into darkness I couldn’t deal with being a Halliwell anymore.” Parker opened to them both. “I really am sorry about Paul and Pan they were like siblings to me growing up all our cousins were grams was big on family and so were her sisters we all kind of grew up together.”

“Yes, Paul told me all about you he also told me that you used to love being a witch you know before you bound your white lighter side and went off the map.” Raven replied. “It must say something you never bound your witch half.”

“I wouldn’t read too much into it.” Parker told her.

Drake, Paige, Quinn, Raven and Cole stood at the freshly dug gravesides of Paul Halliwell and Pan Morgan-Halliwell, the only five remaining after the funeral proceedings as Paige stood next to Drake hand in hand while the other three stood behind them.

“Piper’s deeply sorry she couldn’t be here to comfort you, but she felt like she need to be with Paul and Pan right now.” Paige told Drake as she hugged into her great-great nephew. “We are so proud of how you are holding up.”

“Yeah well it’s not my first graveside visit.” Drake replied while breaking off their hug. “I doubt it’s going to be my last.”

Before Paige could reply to Drake and tell him something reassuring, he began to walk off with Cole and Raven quickly following him to make sure he was okay as Quinn walked over to speak with his fellow elder.

“I don’t know how Cole manages to keep worming his way back into this family but for once I’m actually happy Drake’s got a friend right now especially after his former friend went all evil.” Paige admitted to Quinn. “But if you tell anyone I said anything even remotely nice about Cole I will kill you!”

“Paige, we need to speak about something Raven and I may have done earlier, and it revolves around a certain great-great nephew you forbid all elders from ever contacting.” Quinn told her.

“Okay now is not the time to tell me you broke the rules!” Paige snapped. “I’m here to support Drake…”

“Why do you think we contacted Parker in the first place?” Quinn unusually snapped back. “I get how we’re supposed to honor his desire to no longer have anything to do with this life, but I don’t get why we’re not honoring Paul and even Melinda’s wishes to see no harm come to Drake.”

“No harm has come to Drake…” Paige began to say.

“Not yet…he’s barely coping right now and forcing him to be the power of three times three will only make things worse.” Quinn admitted to her. “He deserves the kind of break Parker got in fact I think he deserves it more.”

“Hey…Raven thought one of us should stay with you at all times and I draw the short straw.” Cole joked as he walked into the kitchen of the Halliwell Manor to find Drake drinking from a bottle of whisky. “Of course, I’m joking…probably not the best time for a demon to be cracking jokes.”

“Yeah that and you always suck at trying to be funny.” Drake laughed as he continued to drink his whisky. “No offense meant or anything but a truth’s a truth.”

“Fair point.” Cole replied as he walked towards Drake, took the whisky off him and drank from it. “You know it’s never easy losing a parent god I even felt something when Raven killed our mother, I didn’t feel much to be fair but still…it’s never easy.”

“Yeah I’ve had better days.” Drake admitted before snatching the whisky back. “The truth is I just keep telling myself the day will be over soon but I’m beginning to fear what tomorrow is going to look like.”

“Well whatever it may look like I’ll be here.” Cole promised him.

“Thanks.” Drake said with a sincere smile before Rose walked into the kitchen.

“I hope you don’t mind me just inviting myself to the wake it’s just my mother worked for your father and something inside me told me I should be here.” Rose said to Drake. “I’m guessing your Paul Halliwell’s son Drake, right?”

“Correct and no you’re more than welcome here.” Drake replied to her before walking over and shaking her hand. “Who was your mother?”

“Patience Craft although she just went by Patty.” Rose answered her.

“Oh my…Patty Craft…are you Penny or Rose?” Drake wondered, knowing this girl in front of him was another charmed one as they broke off their handshake. “I’m really sorry for your loss too my dad said Patty was an amazing woman.”

“I’m Rose and yeah my mum was a really amazing woman.” Rose agreed.

“Yeah she really was.” Penny said as she too walked into the kitchen before walking over to shake Drake’s hand. “Again, sorry for the intrusion but I felt like I kind of needed to be here too.”

“Wish you had told me, so I didn’t have to get a flight solo.” Rose mumbled to herself.

“It’s no problem…stay and enjoy the food and drink in the dining room.” Drake told Penny as he broke off their handshake. “I just need to go and greet everyone.”

“Drake I think now would be as good a time as ever.” Cole suggested to the Halliwell hybrid.

“Not now Cole.” Drake replied.

“Drake…” Cole began to say.

“I said not now!” Drake snapped at him.

“Actually, I don’t want to be rude but there is something I’d like to talk to you about regarding my mother’s death.” Penny butted in. “You see I never believed it was some mysterious case of spontaneous combustion I mean I’m a detective and I like cold hard evidence and there was just none until recently.”

“What do you mean until recently?” Drake wondered.

“I believe whatever killed my mother killed your father and aunt too and it may kill you if you don’t allow me to help you.” Penny revealed much to Drake, Rose and Cole’s shock.

“Well I guess my showing up here to ask questions about a baby blanket is a lot less rude now.” Rose admitted before turning to Penny. “Way to go sis.”

“Well she’s not exactly wrong…” Cole stated.

“I really didn’t want to do this here and now, but you’ve given me no other choice.” Drake said before taking a deep sigh. “Your mother was adopted my father was her biological brother and they were witches.”

“Hold up did you just say witches?” Rose asked Drake. “My mum was into that hocus pocus stuff no offence or anything.”

“That’s because she never knew she was a witch and her powers were bound.” Cole explained to Rose.

“You can’t seriously expect us to believe this.” Penny said to Drake.

“What kind of witch?” Rose wondered.

“The strongest kind a Halliwell and you both are the strongest type of Halliwell witches.” Drake continued to reveal to the two stunned sisters. “Your charmed ones.”

“Well this day just got interesting!” Rose admitted with excitement in her eyes.

“You can’t seriously be believing this?” Penny snapped at her younger sister before turning to look at Drake. “I’m sorry clearly you’re distraught and grieving right now I’ll come back in a few days.”

“It always leads to show and tell before anyone starts believing.” Drake said as he grabbed a hold of Penny and Rose. “Don’t worry it took me a lot to believe this too.”

“Hey,” Cole said just before Drake blinked out of sight with the two sisters. “Just leave me on my own why don’t you?”

“You’ve got to stop following me before I have to vanquish your ass!” Parker warned Quinn after he walked into his bedsit within L.A to find Quinn stood there waiting for him.

“Listen your aunt Paige is already pissed with me for even contacting you so please just hear me out.” Quinn pleaded with Parker.

“Okay,” Parker sighed as he closed the door behind him. “You have five minutes, but I mean five minutes and five minutes only.”

“Have you ever been in love?” Quinn asked him.

“Yes, but I don’t see why that’s any of your business or what it’s got to do with why you’re here?” Parker wondered.

“Drake’s the love of my life actually the love of both my lives and he’s been through so much as you were already informed I’ve watched him fight for happiness over the last three years and I’ve been as much a cause as anyone to why it’s always out of his reach.” Quinn explained to the runaway Halliwell. “Paul would never want this life for his son…you must’ve been deeply struggling with everything when you walked away from it all but you see Drake can’t do that, no Drake won’t do that unless he knows there’s someone else to take his place in the power of three.”

“I get that I do I wish there was a power of three back then too but there wasn’t…I lost a lot before I walked away…my sister, my mother and then my father.” Parker responded with a heartbroken look across his face. “We could’ve used the charmed ones, but they were dead, and I did what I had to do.”

“And you did the right thing!” Quinn told him. “Just like becoming the charmed ones alongside Patience’s daughters would be the right thing.”

“He’s right sweetie!” Piper said after appearing out of nowhere. “We granted your wish to stay away after everything we even enlisted Paul’s son instead of you or Patience for the charmed ones because we had no clue if Patience was even alive and we wanted to respect your wishes.”

“Patience is alive?” Parker asked in shock.

“Not anymore.” Quinn reluctantly told him.

“The point is we did what you wanted us to do each time because you needed time to heal but now it’s Drake’s turn and we need you back.” Piper told Parker as she walked towards her grandson. “We have missed you so much, I have missed you so much please come back to us and let your second cousin find some peace. We’re not saying it has to be forever if you don’t want to be, but we’d really like to have you back especially me.”

“I’ve missed you Grams.” Parker admitted with tears in his eyes before Piper rushed over to hug her grandson.

“So, your telling us we have powers?” Rose asked Drake while she, Drake and Penny stood in the attic of the Halliwell Manor.

“Don’t believe him Rose this is clearly some crazy trick he’s pulling to cover up what really happened to our mother.” Penny told her sister.

“Your mother was killed by a demon simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time and I know this won’t bring you much comfort but we vanquished the demon that killed her well more my father’s girlfriend did.” Drake revealed to them both. “We didn’t know it then, but Patty was my father and aunt’s sister who was kidnapped at birth.”

“So, now your saying our grandparents are kidnappers?” Penny snapped at the Halliwell hybrid.

“Not your adoptive grandparents no but your biological grandfather our biological grandfather was.” Drake explained to them both. “He thought he was protecting her just like my father did when he gave me up but the truth is this is a wicked world and being in the know about how truly terrible it is, is the only way to stay alive.”

“Way to go on selling the whole witch thing by the way.” Rose joked. “Although I’m still intrigued by the previously mentioned powers.”

“Yeah that’s what got me at first too.” Drake laughed at the younger Craft sister.

“We don’t have powers I mean I’ve lived my entire life without powers and so has my sister I think we’d noticed if we had powers, I mean I’m a detective and I’m good at my job.” Penny argued with him.

“If you’re good at your job then you’ll notice there’s a whole lot of unsolved cases just like your mother’s which are truly unexplainable or rather were unexplainable until I gave you the answer right now.” Drake stated.

“Okay…if we’re witches what are our powers?” Penny asked him.

“Well I have telekinesis and astral projection the later came to me later in life after I bound my white lighter side.” Parker revealed to Penny and Rose as he walked into the attic of the Halliwell Manor with Quinn quickly following behind him. “Which must mean one of you has molecular immobilization and the other has the power of premonition.”

“What exactly is molecular immobilization?” Rose asked the room. “I mean premonition is self-explanatory but…”

“It’s basically freezing molecules like objects people and things.” Drake and Penny said in unison before looking at each other awkwardly.

“Okay so if any of this is real how do we get these so-called powers?” Penny questioned.

“From what I remember being told we all just need to hold hands.” Parker told her.

“Hold up what does he mean by we all?” Drake asked Quinn.

“I may have broken a few rules to find and locate Parker with a lot of help from Raven so he could take your place as a charmed one so you could finally be free to be happy.” Quinn answered as he walked over to Drake. “I finally put you first just like you wanted me too.”

Drake had no words to respond to Quinn’s amazing kindness but he didn’t need words as he pulled Quinn in for a long and passionate kiss while Parker walked over and grabbed a hold of Penny and Pan’s hands as Drake and Quinn continued to kiss each other passionately the blue light appeared above the three new charmed ones as they look up towards it with pure awe.

“Hold up if he’s getting out of this does this mean this whole charmed thing is optional?” Penny asked Rose and Parker before being hushed by Rose.

Trinity Banks the socialite prisoner found herself sleeping in the bottom bunk having to listen to the lady on the top bunk snore away much to her frustration before beginning to attack the bed upwards and screaming in a pure fit of frustration before attempting to cover the pillow over her face only to suddenly feel the pillow pushed down on her as she began to shake viciously and try to pull the pillow off her before it was removed only for her to be left horrified to see Cole Turner stood above her in her cell holding the pillow in question.

“Who the bloody hell are you?” She shouted at him. “You almost killed me you psychopath.”

“You mean like you ordered someone to murder Pan and Paul Halliwell.” Cole replied to her.

“Oh, great your another one of the good annoying little witches.” Trinity moaned as she stood up from her bed. “Go ahead and put another sentence on top of my sentence and then I’ll just get you killed too.”

“Yeah I’m neither good nor bad.” Cole said as he grabbed Trinity by the neck and lifted her body in the air, choking the socialite. “I’m more in the grey-scale and I believe in hurting those who’ve hurt people I care about.”

Trinity’s body quickly caught fire the flames burning her quickly as she began screaming in pain before her body exploded much to Cole’s delight.

“So, where do you go from here?” Parker asked Drake as he walked into Drake’s bedroom to find him finishing packing his bag and putting it over his shoulder.

“Anywhere but here I guess I can’t thank you enough for everything you’re doing Parker.” Drake thanked him as he walked over to Lilah’s cot and picked her up. “I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done if I had to stick around here.”

“You would’ve stuck around and the got job done because that’s what we do in this family even if it breaks us.” Parker replied. “This way you can go and do whatever you want to do you get to be with your daughter and you get to try your hand at being happy.”

“Happy,” Drake laughed as he put Lilah into her pram and began clipping her in. “I don’t think I even remember what happy is.”

“I’m guessing happy starts with that hot elder who has this dork thing going for him.” Parker joked.

“He is hot in the dorkiest way possible right?” Drake agreed. “He’s an elder and although he came through for me today that was a onetime thing.”

“That kiss didn’t look like a one-time thing.” Parker told his second cousin. “It’s been a long time since somebody kissed me like that, and it was never a one-time thing when they did.”

“Boy or girl?” Drake wondered.

“I’m strictly a man only kind of man you?” Parker answered.

“I prefer the best of both worlds.” Drake replied to the newly returned Halliwell. “Are you sure you going to manage the power of three with them two? I mean Rose will probably love this life but Penny she’s going to be a hard sell probably even harder a sell than I was.”

“I’ve got this don’t worry besides I got to go out to the big bad world solo and now I’m back it’s your turn.” Parker told him as Drake placed himself behind the buggy, placing his hands on the handles. “What are you going to do about your job at Magic School?”

“I’m taking a sabbatical until I decide what me and the little one are doing next but I’m going to have a lot of fun working that out first I think Disneyland is the first thing I’m going to do.” Drake admitted to his cousin. “Then maybe travel the world a little I’ve got grandparents in Miami who are always pestering me for a visit especially since Lilah was born…as stupid as it sounds, I think I’m going to find myself.”

“That doesn’t sound stupid at all.” Parker responded with a smile. “Good luck Drake Black-Halliwell I’m sure we’ll see you again someday.”

“Yeah maybe you will goodbye cousin.” Drake replied before blinking out of sight with his daughter.

Many Years Ago

“He’s going to be alright Eve he’s going to live a great and wonderful life.” Pan told Eve as she walked out of her front door of the Halliwell Manor and sat down on the doorstep next to her demonic girlfriend. “It’s going to be hard for a while, but we’ll all get through this the knowledge of him getting to go somewhere else and be far away from all this is what will make us feel that tiniest bit less sad.”

“Yeah your right I know you are it’s just I’d love to be a part of that wonderful life of his.” Eve cried as she hugged into Pan. “I really hope he’s going to be okay.”

“He’s going to be more than okay he’s going to be truly magnificent.” Paul said as he appeared at the front door.

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ryouverua · 5 years

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Trial 6 - Oh, I am one yet many (5)

The above inspirational picture was taken seconds before disaster.

Trial: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Tsumugi is not the one-trick pony we thought she was ABORT MISSION, ABORT MISSION!!!!

NO YOU AIN’T! NO YOU AIN’T I DID NOT SIGN UP TO BE HAJIMEMED, NO SIR I DID NOT!

i mentioned it during the text hellstorm I unleashed when I was mid-playthrough but the way Shuichi says ‘cosplaying’ here is ADORABLE. I love his VA she is so good -

also

oh no

o h n o

I can’t just... express how deeply that feeling of ‘oh no’ pervaded my being. My soul.

“THIS IS JUST COSPLAY“ SHE SAYS - AND GOD, THE MUSIC, THE MUSIC IS SO WACKY LIKE THESE ARE JUST SOME NORMAL FTE ANTICS -

wait no this is the ‘let’s start the killing game music’ -

ah that’s why I’m lowkey terrified right now

W-What in the world are those white smears across Hagakure’s eyes??? And oh god the first game too???

WHAT THE HELL TSUMUGI YOU’VE REALLY BEEN HOLDING OUT ON US TELL ME HOW YOU’RE DOING THIS I-I mean oh no, how dare you, this is so awful...

SHE’S TAKEN FULL OWNERSHIP OF JUNKO!PERSONA

AJSLKDF

TSUMUGI

HOLY SHIT

TSUMUGI

IS THIS YOUR FINAL FORM

ironically this got me thinking ‘this would be a really cool cosplay + prop’ once I got over the sheer terror of the situation and I starting thinking, oh, wouldn’t it be cool if you even had a sort of pinwheel mechanism (with the main body of it being hidden by her long hair) that rotated all of these pieces, and have you ever realized that there is a small piece of you that is the monster

also I just realized... she kept putting her glasses on as Junko. But I’m assuming she won’t ever wear them as Hajime. So it’s true - the moment she actually took off her glasses, we really did get to see her final form..

IS THAT KOMAEDA’S HAIR

ALL OF THESE THINGS, I RECOGNIZE ALL OF THEM OMG

This............ this is terrible, terrifying, and also really, really good

don’t say you’re jealous don’t say you’re jealous don’t say you’re jealous okay I’m a bit jealous FFU --

SHUICHI I THINK THIS IS ONE OF THE TIMES WHERE YOU DON’T WANT TO PURSUE THE TRUTH I HAVE A TERRIBLE, AWFUL FEELING -

oh no oh no

here I was doing mental gymnastics to justify why she’d be able to cosplay as Junko, a real person

but I was over-complicating things as usual

even the egg has been compromised for her nefarious scheme this truly is the worst timeline

What is with me and stumbling into series that just bloody smash their fourth wall until there’s nothing but broken pieces left

thank you for having twogami right after togami it’s not something I realized I needed and among all this heartbreak is a blessing

THIS IS NOT YOUR CUE TO START PLAYING THE CREDITS MONOKUMA

I am only making it through this trial by sheer force of will and the power of Sweetcheeks’ adorable voice.

Dangan.... ronpa....?

oh god she said ‘we’ she said ‘WE’ THIS IS REALLY NOT GOOD

‘Don’t get too whacky with your theories,’ I said. ‘You don’t want to sound like a total crackpot,’ I said. DAMN YOU SELF I SHOULD HAVE LET MYSELF GO ABSOLUTELY WILD AFTER ALL

So this was invented completely from nothing??? My initial theory had them seeing themselves in someone else’s actual memories as themselves, and having their own brains play tricks on them that way - but all those scenes with them being interviewed by Makoto, of applying to Hope’s Peak, and possibly everything else about them - oh god - how powerful are these lights? How much detail was crammed into them? Can this all be done with a mere flash of a light???

‘We.’ Her use of ‘we’ is interesting, here. It really does feel like Tsumugi sees all of her cosplay personas as actual people that she can channel to ‘help her’ as opposed to just mere characters. Like entities fighting along side of her, not just through her...

also hello ibuki I forgot how much I enjoyed your VA they make me hear seagulls in the distance

aaaaaaw look at how much the art style has improved from the first game!!!

Y.......... YES.......?????? wait actually as someone who is lowkey interested in props and set design - BUT NO WAIT STILL THIS IS WAY BEYOND THAT -

How... the hell... do you cosplay the world?! The entire world?!?!

Is that possible?? If the entire world isn’t real - if it’s all being propped up by you - then -

Who - who are we playing this game for then??? Why make us play it??? Who is watching the game???

I KNEW IT

I AND PROBABLY HALF OF THE PEOPLE PLAYING WERE JUST WAITING FOR YOU TO SHOW UP

......

Did. Did you just say it takes place in the real world.

Oh no -

It... It’s real fiction... because they’ve kidnapped actual people... and brainwashed them... and then trapped them in a situation where they were forced to kill each other to get out?? For things that didn’t exist??? For reasons that weren’t ever real???

Wait - so that means they can get out and it’ll be fine?! That’s..... t-that’s not as bad as I thought, but...

‘STAFF’ OH THAT WORD IS SO OUT OF PLACE -

...............................

There are. There are people backstage. It’s not just Tsumugi. This. This is super not good.

insert inappropriately-timed comment about how I love this VA

Okay. This actually took me by surprise. And I’m kinda terrified to ask.

W.... Why not? Is - Is this actually a space separated from reality? Can they physically.... not go back....???

no wait -

what are you doing

PUT THAT KEY BACK RIGHT NOW

OH UNCANNY VALLEY-LEVELS OF COGNITIVE DISSONANCE

NO DON’T THROW REAL FACES UP THERE -

IS THIS A BLOODY COMMENT BOARD

I mean I know in my head that this is a niconico parody but the fact is they have to translate the comments to suit an english audience so -

omfg no I cannot believe what is coming out of the screen right now

wait wait

Kyoko is my waifu

My husbando Shuichi

first

Sakura is my muscle waifu good taste anon

Bring on the spoilers

LOL are you watching?

I feel like I��m participating too!

she’s shaking

Aaaw, Himiko is still alive.

Wow it’s on? LOL!

this is what the creepy kid at the beginning of the chapter was about

this was who that Makoto kid was

WHERE IS HIS CREEPY-ASS FACE I KNOW YOU’RE THERE MAKOTO

Is this the everyone... the real everyone Tsumugi says she represents, then??? That she’s fighting for? Omg was Kirumi’s motive/trial foreshadowing all along -

Anyway, damn Tsumugi is proud of her viewership.

#humblebrag #musclewaifu

EVERYONE???? LITERALLY EVERYONE?!?!?!

SURELY... SURELY THAT IS THE CONCEITED TALK OF A MANAGER TRYING TO TALK UP THEIR ‘BABY’.... SURELY...

I appreciate the use of Celes here. This is.... damn dark. They’ve achieved such a peaceful world that the have to manufacture darkness and blood-sport for people to get their kicks???

STIMULATION?!

first of all where’s miu when you need her

SECOND OF ALL ARE YOU SURE HUMANITY WAS BEAUTIFUL, KOREKIYO??? ARE YOU SURE?

“It’s simple economics.”

THERE YOU ARE MAKOTO YOU CREEP

oh no he was... literally... using this game to cope with his problems.... and he said that one day he wanted to be a part of it... oh no.....

..... D... Did one of the comments say that it had been years? That they had been waiting for a few years for the sequel?

Does - does that mean something, or is it just a throwaway audience comment? Why years? If Rantaro was in the last one, why would it have been years for this one to happen??? How old is Rantaro? How old is Tsumugi?!?!

FML I had been wondering how ‘Monokuma’ could exist without Junko existing since they’re inextricably linked. FML.

MONOKUMA CAN YOU STOP ROLLING THE CREDITS, THE MUSIC AND THE TITLE CARDS FOR A MINUTE PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU

Because I don’t enjoy having Saioinji’s terrifying eyes trained on me while she questions my intelligence, so I’ll sum up the next question - what season of this gameshow from hell are we apparently on?

I mean, considering Junko’s title... well...

..... yeah it looks better with a V.

the real answer to why they used V3 even though it’s technically not the correct way to say ‘53′ - it’s the aesthetic.

FFFF

I actually screenshot all the parody!title cards and they’re amazing. I’ll post them just once a bit later when it shows up again because this post is entirely too long, but needless to say, whoever designed them had fun. And the titles of the games, too - Birth of Despair? Dream Danganronpa? Sign me tf up! oh no does this make me part of the problem I’M SORRY SWEETCHEEKS

I can’t believe I was bitching about Junko being the mastermind for the third game when apparently audience members have had to sit through 53 Junkos

You couldn’t have changed it up??? Not even once??? Like, one led by Mukuro as a prologue idea or??? quietly denies the existence of the anime

Oh, speaking of which, I do like the excuse they came up with as to why the drv3 creators didn’t create new characters from the supposed other games why Tsumugi didn’t cosplay anyone outside the first two games - it’s for the class’s benefit, since they only knew those two casts, and y’know. She cares. about shock value

DON’T YOU PASS THE BUCK, GIRL

Ah, so that ‘staff’ you mentioned earlier...

why is this so funny to me

T-Tsumugi, do you have a tumultuous relationship with your managers or something

why are you airing out your dirty laundry on live television

is it all the incest plotlines

I feel like at this point it’s less ‘Tsumugi is trying to rub into the students how completely and absolutely they are boned’ and more ‘okay, it’s time to give a shout-out to everyone who put this production together! Perfect time to slap on that logo, guys!‘

oh my god that was supposed to be a trailer in-meta too alsd;kfj i’m losing it

AND AGAIN, THOSE TITLE CARDS - THEY ARE AMAZING.

SHE IS SHE’S TOTALLY ADVERTISING MID-SHOW

TSUMUGI STOP BEING A CORPORATE SELL-OUT

"NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR YOUR CRAPPY SHOEHORNED ADVERTISING!!!”

oh god oh no

who’s going to tell him -

MONOKUMA DON’T YOU DARE

i’m having an existential crisis alongside sweetcheeks ngl

there are so many layers

....

we need to go deeper

So, just to clarify, there are three layers right now:

There’s us, the players. In a sense, we could be considered ‘equal but different than the tier’, but we do still operate on a plane separate from the metafiction of Tsumugi’s ‘everyone in the world’.

There’s the ‘audience’, the outside world. This is the space that’s been breached at this point. And this... this is the level where the students are from, too - aka the reason I think we and the audience should exist as separate entities.

And there’s the domain of the Killing Game, a space created to play out this story, using real people - a place separated from reality... how? If Tsumugi is talking about a set, it could easily be the real world, which means they’ve been isolated somewhere. At the same time though, when they managed to reach the end of the escape tunnel and saw the outside world, they all started to choke and suffocate. So... could this be VR still? Or no? Can these existences known as Shuichi Saihara, the Ultimate Detective, Maki Harukawa, the Ultimate Assassin, Himiko Yumeno, the Ultimate Robot, K1-b0, the Ultimate Robot, and even Tsumugi Shirogane, the Ultimate Cosplayer, leave this space in any way, shape or form... or not at all? Is them suffocating ^ like that a sign that they literally cannot exist outside of this space?

She is literally throwing the same question back in Shuichi’s face ghdfkgh

NO I’M ON SHUICHI’S SIDE I COULDN’T HELP IT I HAD TO CHOOSE REAL PEOPLE

no!!! no!!!! NO!!!!

no seriously I still chose real people because I am stubborn

sweetcheeks et al. do not deserve any of this

Of course they brought out despair!Mikan for this. Of course.

I have to say, I do like these little character touches - the decisions that have been made as to which ‘cosplay’ says what. I mean, it’s supposed to also act as a way to throw our known and loved favourites in our face too, but having Celes comment on how boring ‘peace’ is? Having Ibuki smashing through the fourth wall to speak directly to the audience, Gundham remarking on their abnormal existence and Leon commenting on how cool the ‘aesthetic’ of the title card is? It’s such a nice touch. also horrifying. butalsonice

Oh we really are addressing the prologue now??? And - I’m assuming Tsumugi is referring to Hajime when she says ‘me’, but is there a chance she isn’t?

Just as I initially suspected, though - they really were normal when they got in. So how did they decide who got what personality/talent, or was that random? I mean, that might be the case - it was potentially hinted by the motive video switch of Chapter 2..

............. Huh.

But..... in what sense? Like the 16 talents were stored in those lights and they were ‘picked up’ by the most suited participant? How could you make sure there were no doubles? Or - and this is possible because of the vague language - did the talents build on what the student knew already? In which case, how would they know what the talents would end up being and plan the labs around them?

No, it would... have to be... the first one. Talents had its own selection in the flashback creating machine, though without verifying what the subcategories are it’s hard to confirm or deny anything... but I also can’t shake what Maki said at the beginning of the game? How it felt like their talents were given at random?

So... so they’re not only back where they started - completely isolated with everyone they’ve ever known and the world they knew completely out of reach (in this sense, dead/not actually existing are functionally the same), but they get a helping of a totally warranted existential crisis on top of that.

And... their bodies are real, so everyone else really is dead. No happy sdr2 ending. Well, unless I mental-gymnastics that to read ‘they have physical bodies to return to, but as manufactured personas it’s pointless.’

Me too, Sweetcheeks.

We can’t go 5 minutes without a WHAM line.

B-But they were kidnapped weren’t they -?!

fujisaki does not deserve this slander

Return of the hat!!!

..... is it bad that I miss his hat. I. I really liked his hat. I know that it was representative of the way he held back and used it to hide himself, but - but I liked his original portrait. And I liked the way it was incorporated into his sprites and all the movements he makes with it and without it, like it‘s a phantom limb. okayI’llstop

Why... are we not getting a name here? Was Shuichi Saihara a made-up name too?

oh -

oh no

D: A... Anything...

H-He’s.... a complete fanboy too.................... holy shit. cute but terrifying he looks like much more of a schoolboy super!fan than real Shuichi

S-So wait, it’s not even autosuggestion then - he asked for it? How - how does this work with the flashback lights? It can be targeted like that??? god I’m going to have so many questions after this is all over

I think this may be the death knell for his psyche oTL I certainly wouldn’t be able to take this if I was in his position.

LOOK I KNOW I GET EXCITED ABOUT CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT TOO

but this is a bit much c-can you please keep that drool in -

asdfkjlsdf w h a t

was

was this omitted or something

I - I swear they were kidnapped they seemed a lot more freaked out?!

Even Rantaro, who seemed to know more than he let on at the time - ?!

I... I think I really need to go back and replay the prologue.

ME NEITHER K1-B0 I FEEL LIKE I’M BEING GASLIT

d-did

did you use it on me too

That... that I can believe. No matter who they were before - if they were consenting or not - it might not even matter, if they can’t return to how they were. In a sense, the Gopher Project story was practically preparing them for it - the idea that everything they knew and loved were gone, and would never come back. Oh... oh that’s bad....

TSUMUGI IS ACTUALLY TERRIFYING

SHUT UP NAEGI

wait why is seeing him say that worse than seeing Junko say her normal despair stuff

it’s the insincerity, probably...

YOU NERFED KAITO?!?!?!

YOU NERFED KAITO!!!!!!!

okay I take back what I said Maki you have my enthusiastic blessing to recklessly murder as necessary

RIP Tsumugi and all of her new depth

“I’m also the one that kept sneaking all of the death flags into his room while you were out training every night!”

Y O O O

YOU NERFED HER CHARACTER TOO?!?!?! YOU GOTTA LET THAT HAPPEN ORGANICALLY!!!

LMAO

Souda will never show this much awareness in his actual every day fictional life and that makes this 100% funnier

Everything has a writing credit.... every single thing? Every bit of development?

Even Kokichi’s coup and Kaito’s cooperation? And Kokichi manipulating Gonta? You just seemed so - so angry about that after the trial. Surely those, if nothing else...

At this point they’re just kicking a sad, beaten-down puppy. What more could you possibly do at this point - ?!

oH GOD I DON’T WANT TO SEE THIS

WHAT THE HELL WHO EVEN SAYS SOMETHING LIKE THAT

nNOOO

NO LET ME REMEMBER HIM THE WAY HE WAS

DON’T YOU CROSS THIS BRIGHT RED LINE SHIROGANE

NO THIS IS ILLEGAL I’M CALLING THE POLICE HE LOOKS ABSOLUTELY MAD -

GHGHGGHGHGHGH

GHGHghghghghhh

ghghgh

sdkflj

n o o o o oooo o o o o o o o

gggkghk

I-It’s not a lie! Even if it was manufactured, even if it was coded into them - their feelings were real to them! It might be by design, but - oh this sounds so hollow. It’s one thing to talk about ‘fate’ and ‘this was the work of a higher power’, but having it brought down on you in such a trivial way must be absolutely soul-crushing.

this is the saddest iteration of hangover!Shuichi that I have laid my eyes on in the entire game

nihilism.

tbh I never found Izuru that intimidating as a final villain in the last game - but here? Terrifying. Maybe it’s in contrast to Junko here, who has the overbearing destructive personality of a tornado, but the quiet emptiness and lack of a higher purpose, of absolute futility that he stands for here - that scares me a lot. Maybe it’s just because it seems to bring the concept of DR’s despair to a place that I can personally understand?

I keep saying ‘this is terrifying!’ but I mean, to be fair... it... kind of is. as always, fantastic use of text DRV3!

also can someone please shut up the peanut gallery for five minutes

well damn Monokuma that one felt aimed right at me

It reminds me of what Komaeda would say about his own motivation: it was watching everyone struggle with adversity, or the ‘despair of the killing game’, with the end goal of them ‘reaching hope’ - of seeing them overcome and grow stronger for it, that drove him forward. From the outside that makes sense; seeing other people overcome struggles, even ones so terrible, give us the mental strength to overcome our own problems. But for someone on the inside looking out... how perverse would that feel, to think that your suffering is basically being used as inspiration!p0rn? Knowing that there were voyeurs getting a kick out of your struggle?

What happens to game pieces after the game board is closed and put away?

Do they go into stasis? Do they just... exist, outside of time? Frozen forever, until they’re taken out to be ‘played with’ again; left to rot?

If they ‘win’.... they have no future. There’s nothing for them to move forward to reach. A piece learning that they’re a piece, and knowing their dreams after their trials will always stay just out of reach... how can anyone move foward like that?

“love that reaction” OH SHUT UP LUDENBERGxLUVER37

Fight for yourself! They fought to get you this far - Kaito and Kokichi died to give you this chance, even if they are a ‘lie”!

But Shuichi has never been able to fight for himself, only for the others...

Tsumugi, after spending the last hour verbally beating them down and shredding his and everyone’s sense of self to shreds: wow lol what a weakling

Everything is terrible and yet her saying this still got a laugh out of me, damn it.

S-SHUICHI? SHUICHI?

I-IS HE EMOTIONALLY SHUTTING DOWN -

OH GOD

HIS

H-HIS POV - IS GONE -

And nothing but despair left...

Did - did we just lose Shuichi...?

SWEETCHEEKS!!! SWEETCHEEKS, NO!!!

SWEETCHEEKS I’M SO SORRY!!!!

#Ryou plays drv3 #Shuichi Saihara #Kiibo #Keebo #Tsumugi Shirogane #spoilers #drv3 spoilers #most of the post was ready but my computer being in the shop meant it got super delayed #feelsbadman.jpg

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mynameisdreartblog · 5 years

Text

Romantic Composers 2

Leo: Johann Strauss II. I’m gonna prank-call a Domino’s in San Juan, give me a minute. «Oro, we’re in the middle of the sea, I doubt there’ll be a good enough connection or a cell-tower near enough to let you-» <Sudden static is heard, and a gruffy voice comes on.> «Este es el Domino’s; ¿Qué te gusta probar nuestro nueva pizza stuffed-crust?» <Oro gives an impossible look at Viz, implying that he never doubted himself, but that Viz was a total moron for doubting him.> Yes, I’d like a, uh… <Oro’s eyes begin rapidly scanning the environment for clues.> Anchovies… Pineapples… A Hawaiian pizza, basically: That’s the mellow flavor I’m feeling today. «¿Algo más, señor?» Oh yes, I’d also like those marble brownies for a dessert, and an Orange Crush for the drink. <Viz wonders how Oro is able to receive a cellular connection in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico.> That should be it… Oh no! «¿Señor?» Augh! I fell off this pier, and I think I’m d-drowning! Please, send someone to help; I can’t swim! «¡Mierda!» <Viz watches Oro kick his feet through the water, making very convincing splashing sounds. He then begins to produce fake choking sounds, leaving the Domino’s worker quite terrified.> «Why did I ever agree to come out here with you.» <Viz punches the makeshift sailboat the two are in, startling Oro and causing him to drop his phone.> Viz, what the hell? I still had 3 gigs of data left on that thing! «Data? It’s a flip-phone. Smart phones haven’t been invented yet because they’re a science-fiction concept, dipshit. Now you have some terrorized soul in an island hundreds of miles away from here.» Actually, he’s at the bottom of the ocean. «Don’t speak to me again, I swear to God.» […] <The scene of the discord fades away as we peer into the bottom of the ocean, where we find the phone there, still on call. The voice rings out and says:> «¿Crees que está jugando conmigo?» […] Man, wouldn’t it be hilarious if I did that? <We cut back to reality: Oro is sitting in the front seat of his banged-up truck, killing time while Viz lays half-conscious in the back.> «That’d kind suck. I mean, who’s gonna be on the ocean? Nobody’s that stupid: The ocean’s big and scary.» You and me both, but don’t deny that isn’t hilarious. «Heh, I did appreciate the joke about the phone at the bottom of the ocean: You were setting that up miles in advance.» [,] Shit, am I getting a phone call?

Taurus: Frédéric Chopin. "The automobile is perhaps the only invention that is at once phallic and womb-like. As columnist George Will once remarked, “the real reason for progressives’ passion for trains is their goal of diminishing Americans’ individualism in order to make them more amenable to collectivism.” While his comments are laughable for a number of reasons, collectivism as a goal (or even a word) smells of Cold War-era mildew. Will does hit on one truism: Humans love cars to an irrational degree." Hmm, that’s a very interesting think-piece you have here. But tell me, why should I care about Americans and their car-culture? I hike up here every day, and when I have to travel lower, I take a moped like everyone else. Though, mine’s bigger for obvious reasons. «Don’t blame me; I just put the papers on the table. Those crazy op-ed writers will publish just about anything to get people’s anger brewing.» You’re right… The morning’s been quite inactive though, and I just wanted something to talk about. Heaven knows I talked about every trinket in this place. «You can try talking about the cuisine, specifically how I can learn from you. That’s just something you’ve been stubborn about lately, and maybe this boredom is just the karma of that.» I knew you’d say that, but you need to realize that my cooking is something you can only experience, never narrate. I let things speak for themselves a lot, and I never found a purpose in taking down notes that do nothing but become clutter later on. <Bodhi whispers to themselves> «That’s the guy I know: Always asking you to live out things fully because understanding things holistically is better than growing personally.» [,] You whisper too long but also too sweetly. Please keep doing it until we have a customer coming so I can feel like there’s some activity here. «Bullheaded as always.» […] <Gresham takes a meaningful sip of tea, it fails to burn his old throat, but can punch through the atmosphere to reveal a friendly puff.> A lot of the time, I’m tired of being so cynical: Where’s the room for being clumsily sincere? I have to refuse making money by telling dirty jokes or other obscene things like, ugh, phone usage. <Like he never said, he’s not too old, it’s that technology doesn’t catch up to him for his liking.> [,] The window is just soothing enough to warrant not cleaning it yet, but I don’t wanna get another tourist complaining about how they don’t have the best mountain view. Whoever sits here will have to learn how to appreciate the fault… I’m complaining to pass the time again: Not a healthy habit, Gresham. […] Nothing strange, just a nice day: A little foggy though.

Aquarius: Giacomo Puccini. How would I describe the graphical style of the game Little Red Hood for the NES if I were to use persistent, geographical allusion? Well, I’d say that it’d be like what would happen if you tried to translate the geography of Afghanistan onto 8-bit graphics hardware, particularly how it appears near a strong river like the Helmand: It provided that Galilean backdrop that so many directors used in their films about Christ. Now, that’s what I did think back in my flawed memory of the game, but now that I look back at it again, the landscape is definitely more inspired by that of Florida, particularly around the parts where sawgrass is heavy and palm trees are native, but it’s not a tropical landscape per se, nor is it an entirely swampy one. It’s particularly the presence of palm trees that struck me as confusing, because my brain has always associated the odd, yellow colors of its groundwork to that of a renovated Pacific area, but the game proves that it doesn’t use the palm trees throughout the entire game. But the opening levels still confuse me because the story of Little Red Riding Hood that the game’s based on originates in various parts of Europe, and the foliage we see in the opening act doesn’t reflect that of any European landscape. It could just be an artist interpretation in the case of making the presentation of the game think you were in a Pacific island or near the heartlands of Okeechobee, but I think it might’ve just been a case of “not giving a shit” as they say. There’s more to talk about with how my brain subconsciously linked my flawed memories of the game’s graphical presentation with that of the riverbanks of the Helmand; I guess I just wanted to prove my initial biases and not examine how the game doesn’t even commit to even my ideas whenever I think of Afghani scenery, but maybe even those are failing to catch up with the fact that there’s so many different aesthetical implications within the vastness of the nation of Afghanistan that, uh, I don’t know: I just like Afghani landscape. Have this picture of a village in the Bamyan desert. [,] «Aukai, what the hell are you talking about? I’ve been eavesdropping back here since you started and I still don’t understand.» I’m t-trying to paint this scene in my head, but I don’t have my tools to do it, so I’m thinking loudly about it. «…Whatever.» […] There’s no doubt in my mind that he’d make a great tamer: Our protagonist of this beautiful world, now ravaged by corruptors that his world has gone to hell for trying to stop. He’s the only one who can control the beastly and brutish forces of the corruption that infests his world. <The one earlier who was questioning Aukai opens her door and holds out a hand full of paint-brushes.> «Here, take these, please. I liked you better when you were quiet.» <Aukai is insulted and satisfied.>

Pisces: Franz Liszt. I’m fucking devastated: My favorite rap-battle channel on YouTube just deleted their channel. Not only that, all of their social media accounts are gone. They had such great works as "Goku vs. Rick Sanchez", "George Washington vs. the Invisible Man", and "Luigi vs. Slenderman." I don’t know if I can keep going the same route of content consumption knowing that the only ironic rap battle channel deleted everything. «Hold on, your favorite video-channel on the Internet was ironic? I don’t think I’m getting this, Maggie.» Let me explain it: It was good because it didn’t take itself seriously. For a while, that was it’s niche, and certainly other creators arose to copy it, but they were always the first. «So, is this like, some independent person making all of these or is there an entire network of people collaborating to create this music?» You’re right the second time: They used to be part of this collaborative effort to make these videos, but the guy I like, in particular, broke off from the bigger picture. Now, their content is what I like; I haven’t seen the uploads by the other creators ’cause it’s not really the same experience, is it? «That’s crazy… and they just deleted all their content after how long they’ve done this for?» I’ve been following it for a year, but they were their most active near October. [,] «You actually have me interested in their music now. I mean, I know you can’t play it anymore, but do you at least have backups or remember how some of them went?» I think I have backups, but I know some of these by heart, man. What I’m trying to say is that it’d be far better if I could recite these to you than if I just played them. «So, what you’re saying is that you don’t have any backups?» Do you have any backups, or do you wanna see me recite some of the best lyrics you’ll ever hear? «Let it rip.» [,] "I got the Dragon Balls; I’m gonna win. I’m gonna eat your pickle, Rick. Oh wait, SHIT! Your mom licked my Dragon Ball(z); I’m just Super Saiyan. Kamehameha, I ain’t playin’. Rick Sanchez always wanna start drama; don’t make me do Dirty Sanchez on yo’ mama! I bet your only comeback is you making a burp. Rick Sanchez winning? Stupidest shit I’ve ever heard." At this point, Rick Sanchez would offer up his verse to Goku, and his verse goes something like "thirty-thousand witches in Goku’s house! God isn’t real; I touched Bulma’s blouse. I got like, seventy more episodes with Morty, and being with Morty just makes me real-" «Stop, this is way more awful than I expected.» Well, I’m the only one you can get these bars from, and now you’re saying you don’t want them? I don’t have to recite them. «You have backups; you lied to me earlier. I don’t care about them now, but look: You got potential outside of just reciting those bars. Maggie, you got your own talents.» I’m not a lyricist, but thanks. «You’re a poet, that’s one-or-two steps away from being a lyricist.» I rapped purely for the purposes of recitation; I don’t know what you’re getting at. «Nah, I’m convinced that only you can write something this absolutely… passionate. You made up this entire channel, this entire guild, this entire deletion scandal: You made it all up so you can kickstart your career.» I’m not- Okay, we’ll roll with it this time. [,] Yeah, I’m starting my own rap battle channel in the wake of the one that deleted itself. «Are you gonna cash in on the ironic rap-battle market or are you trying to be more sincere with this?» Of course it has to be ironic! I’m following in the master’s footsteps thanks to you, and now I can’t disrespect his legacy. «That’s cool, but it’s not enough: You gotta make it one of those ARGs.» ARG? «Like, some game of Clue you send your audience on to discover interlinked details that seem to form a bigger picture but end up getting nowhere, and it’s all for the purpose of promoting your brand.» Oh, I see. I can include like, hints in the middle of the jokes in the verses, and I’d make an entire fictional universe of followers that leave behind clues. «No, you don’t even have to do that: Just get a random mugshot, make up some believable names and accredit them to your project, get some weirdos on a message-board to write about it for you, and you’re set.» …If you’re gonna be this disheartening, I don’t wanna continue with it. «That’s not what I meant!»

#Zodiaccupuncture #Zodipunc #Leo #Taurus #Aquarius #Pisces

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chanzicoup · 7 years

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A/N: I know I said the NSFW A-Z were "canceled" but this was the only VIXX request I had so I figured why not. But any other NSFW A-Z I receive from this point on will be deleted without second thought. I've included in my Rules And Regulations post that I will no longer do these until further notice. Just a reminder because some people are getting upset with me because I deleted their requests. Just so you know, I strictly follow my own rules and rarely bend them for other people so if your request was deleted it was because it didn't follow my rules. (I got this template from chantenyongs and I could not find the original creator to give proper credit to.)

A = Aftercare

After going down on you a little too rough by mistake, he'll guiltily massage your shoulders and linger his hands over your body in worship of it's beauty. He may give you a few kisses here and there but most importantly he wants you to get rest because he knows you are drained.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Leo just loves your hips, mainly because he'd grip them while thrusting into you or while he eats you out. You on the other hand have an infatuation with his shoulders/back. Even when things aren't "passionate" you surprise hum with back hugs and "back cuddles" on a regular basis. The massive height difference between the two of you is only a benefit in this case.

C = Cum

We all know Leo would be the best dad in the future and that he'd be ready for children ASAP, but he would respect that you weren't ready for kids or if you two hadn't discussed it yet. He would use a condom, first of all, but to be extra careful he'd still pull out. I can't see him being into the whole "marking you with cum" thing but if you told him directly that you wanted to have ex with out a condom and have him cum inside of you he'd begin to ask if you were on the pill and what you two would do if you got pregnant.

D = Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

If he has any dirty secrets (that you don't know of yet) it would probably be something to do with a kink. Maybe he has a secret bondage kink? Perhaps a blindfold? Surely if it's either of the two it would be you being tied up or blindfolded, he's a dom! most of the time.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Since Leo is a committed guy I don't see him having sex too much, the reason being that if he has dated before it would have been a serious relationship if he's had sex with that person. Like sex it a big deal for him and it's like starting a new chapter with that person who he must trust with the world if they were to be getting that personal. Surely he knows what he's doing, he's a grown ass man for crying out loud. But experience wise, he's more then a virgin but not a man with a body count of five or more.

F = Favorite position

Only once in a while will things get kinky so most of the time you two are in the missionary position, whoever is on top will definitely change from time to time. If it's your turn tonight Leo's going to cheer you on and help you out if you get tired.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Maybe if he and you were drunk you two would laugh like hyenas but normally things get as far as smiling into each others eyes, maybe a chuckle when the other moans a little too loud and gets embarrassed.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they)

Leo seems like one of the cleanest members of VIXX aside from Hongbin so he'd be well groomed. Besides, he doesn't like being all hairy, it'll make him feel unhygienic and if anything it'll get him out of the mood for sex. ha, He turned himself off.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

OMG HE'S THE ROMANCE MASTER I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT ROSE PETALS AND CANDELS, HE'S WAY BETTER THAN THAT. I'M TALKING ABOUT HIM RENTING AN ENTIRE HOTEL ROOM IN LIKE FRANCE OR SOMETHING WITH SMOOTH JAZZ PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND AND YOUR FAVORITE DINNER. WHEN "YOUR SONG" COMES ON HE'LL ASK TO SLOW DANCE WITH YOU AND HE'LL SNEAK KISSES IN THERE AND BAM! Y'ALL ARE MAKING LOVE ON THE COUCH, THE BED, THE FLOOR, EVERYWHERE!

J = Jack Off (Masturbation)

Eh, i guess he would've done it while he was single a.k.a before he met you. But as soon as he gets into a relationship all of his focus is on his partner. He's attracted to them so he wouldn't really feel the need to jack off.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Body worship kink (giving). 100%.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

His reservedness keeps him from wanting to have sex in public or being too loud as to when the neighbors or other people can hear you so sex at the dorms or in bathrooms are out unless it was your place. Meaning he'd come over to your house more often than you went to his. If the vixx members wanted to hang out they'd have to go to your house. Going deeper, at your house, he'd prefer to have sex in your bedroom. He still has this paranoia that someone will walk in on you two if you guys are going at it in the living room.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Leo hates to admit it but when he's stressed or had a bad day he'd want you to make it all better. Sex would be a given after dating for a while but he'd vocally ask for it when he's stressed out or just needs a break. It would catch you off guard at first but after some more time you pick up little tricks to help him get back on track.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I just can't see Leo being the kink of dom! that spanks/hair pulls/etc. He's weary of his actions 24/7 and would never want to cause you any pain. Even if you asked him to he'll refuse to do it, afraid of accidentally going overboard or not knowing your boundaries well enough even though he has them down.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He'd totally prefer giving you oral as opposed to receiving but he wouldn't stop you if you really wanted to do it. What is he gonna do say no to getting head?

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually Leo's more on the slow and sensual side, which you love because he can get you to three orgasms while going turtle speed. But sometimes he'll spice things up a little and go rougher towards the end, without giving you a warning. He'd feel sorry for doing that but you and him both know you wouldn't have it any other way.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Quickie's with Leo would only be in the morning before he has to go to work. None before a concert in the dressing rooms, none in the bathroom during a group dinner. After the morning quickie he'd send you pictures of things he's doing or places he's at with cuter captions because you my friend have made his entire day, week, month, and year.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Hell no.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He'd be able to last three to four rounds, but since you two have sex semi often he'd be happy with going just one round. He knows more is coming in the future. But the thing is, you two go through these time periods when you have sex like every night and then boom, no sex for months. If this is one of those times when you two are going through your "sex droughts" then the night you relight the flames it's an all night event, sweetie. Cancel your plans for tomorrow and call off work, you aren't going anywhere.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He wouldn't have any at all since he's pretty vanilla. If you had them he'd try to figure out what the heck they were but eventually he'd be giving up and just tossing them to the side. He doesn't need toys to make you whimper his name.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Leo would tease you through out the day playfully, giving you a hint as to what he want to do. But they'll be subtle until you two are alone. All day it was winks from across the table and a tighter grip on your leg in the car. No one else even noticed but you sure did. When you two were left alone by people leaving the room in a group, Leo would stare at you dead in the eyes and say "We're going home." ;););)

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He'd prefer to keep it quiet obviously, but sooner or later he has no control and the both of you are trying to muffle your moans in each other's shoulders and kisses. It's just a mess.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Lowkey Leo wants to have sex in a hot tub. Sadly those bitches are expensive as hell to install and the ones he knows of are in public areas so now way is that going to happen.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

His entire body is "longer(?)" than most males, his dick is no different. He's huge, lucky you.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Like I said, before, it goes up and down all the time. There really is no constant with him.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He'd fall asleep after you did, being reassured you were taken care of before he was.

~Blake

#kpopficscommunity #kpop #vixx #vixx imagine #kpop imagine #kpop scenario #kpop rezction #vixx scenario #vixx reaction #vixx leo #jung taekwoon

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metuere-now-exspiritment · 7 years

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Join the resistance. Call Spirit.

So the phone rings, like it always does, and she picks up, like she always does, and says, only somewhat ironically, “Thank you for calling the resistance, this is Spirit speaking. How can I help you?”

“Look here, motherfucker, I don’t know what has finally snapped in that puny little pseudo-brain of yours, but you’re fucking impressing me with your stupidity--you have surpassed all human expectations for the dumbest piece of shit alive--you are so ridiculously awful at being alive, it’s a miracle you haven’t choked to death on your own breathing, and thank fucking God for the day that finally fucking happens--”

She hangs up.

Not three seconds later, the burner phone starts buzzing again, some mockery of an ambivalent ringtone that vibrates expectantly in her hand. Spirit glances around helplessly, almost hoping to make eye contact with someone who will understand this pit in her stomach that makes it difficult to move or think or breathe--but nobody looks. It’s just a phone to them, after all.

She misses the second call. When the ringing begins for a third time, she hurries down the street and back to the relative safety of her apartment. The phone won’t stop ringing. He’s called five times, now, and this is when she finally decides to pick up.

“It’s been ten years, kiddo. Did you know that? Did you really know that? Can you even count that fuckin’ high? Can you stay grounded in the real goddamn world long enough to know that time passes linearly? I really fuckin’ doubt it, kiddo, because this takes the absolute fuckin’ cake of absolutely insane shit I ever thought I’d see you do.”

“I used to think you were out to get us. Like, with them. I thought your ghosts were the people in charge of the people we killed, and I thought you were feeding them information so they could beat us while we were down. Do you understand that, old sport? Do you understand why I wanted you dead and why I left you there? I thought you were the bad guy, kiddo. I thought you had us on strings. Isn’t that so fucking ridiculous, old sport? Because you are dumber than dumb could fuckin’ be.”

She hangs up.

Somewhere past the point of crying, there’s the nausea, and the bloodless face, and the dizziness. Somewhere past that point is crying again. Spirit is aware of the fact that she entered the apartment but didn’t have the chance to move anywhere further than the kitchen; it’s here she falls, knees suddenly useless, and begins to sob.

The phone rings. It rings. It rings. She doesn’t know if it’s him calling or if she can’t stop hearing the last five minutes in some monstrous echo of an even worse version of his words.

Courage fails, hands shake; her words and her cruel, cold stare are all forgotten as the tile floor chills her bones and she struggles to find air, thinking how that would just be fucking perfect, choking on her own breath, all alone, a house too big for her tears and her lonliness and her stupidity teetering on delusional.

The door opens--in some vague sense of that concept. The door is slammed into and splintered and, eventually, allows her a person to enter. Kind of like a door does, when it’s opened, with torque and a handle and perhaps some knocking.

“You saw that, right, kiddo? You got that?” There’s no time to think before hands are in her hair and pulling her up until her feet dangle helplessly, like a root vegetable being plucked from the soil.

Harris stands a foot and a half taller than her. Neither of them have cut their hair for ten years; he’s practical enough to keep his up, accenting a hardened jaw and steely brown eyes. He reeks of sweat and soy sauce; she can hear his dead father and his dead comrades and dead boys from the city killed on accident or for money. She’s annoyed by this--but somewhat impressed. She wonders if he stopped at a casual Chinese joint before breaking into her house, or if he joined a gang just to find her and kill her.

He brings their faces unnecessarily close together; his teeth are gritted in a snarl that makes her wonder how he hasn’t crushed his own mouth. “I found you so goddamn easily, kiddo,” he growls. “All I had was a name and a phone number and this vague idea of you at eight years old. Now, kiddo, now everybody knows your name, and a phone number you’ll answer, and the fact that you’re either enhanced or stupid enough to openly support a revolutionary cause. Now, at first, I think, of course. It’s a trap. It’s a fuckin’ trap. She gets the punk mutants to call her and meet her and then she wipes ‘em out, the tricky fuckin’ bitch. But then--”

His hands go from her hair, to her cheeks, to under her jaw. He holds her effortlessly by the shoulders; runs his fingertips down her arms, extending them and holding her by the fingertips. She feels, for all intents and purposes, like she’s floating in midair. He can’t believe she’s real, that she’s so scrawny and dirty and rough around the edges and yet, inexplicably, alive.

He doesn’t know how to admit that his escape from hell was made possible by her ghost stories, or that he saw her terror-stricken eyes and desperate resistance when somebody tries to drag her back into solitary. He doesn’t know how to tell her what it looked like, to see her with her tiny fists stabbing her creators and interrogators with scalpels until their eyes dripped down their cheeks. He doesn’t know how someone could fake that kind of trauma, that indignant fury. He feels it too familiarly to ignore it. He is also not stupid enough to tell her any of this.

“But then I thought, Spirit has never been strong enough to do anything on her own. She’s needed people like me and Burns to keep her alive. So what I’ve decided is that some politico hotshot’s got you wrapped around his fuckin’ finger, and you’re essentially a glorified receptionist for someone who can, y’know, break brick walls or commit mass arson.”

When Harris was younger, he relied on physical violence to hone his cruelty, sharp as a blade. She’s stunned he’s become better than that.

“And since I’m not the biggest idiot on Earth like you, I realize that powerful people like that, they don’t keep their receptionists. They don’t treasure the little pieces in big games. This guy, he’s got connection. He knows a lot, and hates, one of the most powerful men alive, and he’s keepin’ tabs on all of the powerful people in the area. This powerful guy, he puts people like you out there to save his own skin. He’d do anything to keep it like that. Shit, I bet he’d send you right back to where we came from just to save his ass when all this comes crashing down. Going public like this means that you’re not only someone else’s bitch, but also that the people who made us can pluck you out of society in one fuckin’ second, and the powers that be won’t bat an eye. Do you think about that, old sport? Do things like that find their way into your brain? Or are you too busy talking to dead grandmas and crying ‘cause I broke your poor fuckin’ arm?”

“You never made me cry, Harry.” And to prove it, she grins her grin of invincibility in childhood, even as his fingers dig into her arms hard enough to make her immediately wonder if something is swollen or sprained. “Where’s Burns, Harry? Where’s Juni? I wanted to see them.” She can’t mock herself flippantly enough to hide how desperate the request really is.

He smiles maliciously, thinly. He says nothing. He thinks of the small house in the suburbs where he lives with Juniper, Burns, and Lila, providing them like a patriarch is supposed to, keeping them safe and keeping them loyal, like a general is supposed to do. He thinks about how two years ago, Burns finally stopped saying Spirit’s name.

His silence makes her falter, but she continues, at least comfortable with the fact, acquired through her radio signals, that he hasn’t killed them. “And I know you think you’re, like, insanely smart, but you don’t know shit about what’s been happening in the real world. You think I’m fucking crazy, I mean--holy shit. Listen to yourself. You’re writing a fucking Die Hard, GI Joe, whatever the fuck movie just to keep yourself looking superior. It’s not like that--”

She grunts when he finally drops her, but now that she’s found the courage to speak, it’s easy to maintain a level stare. It only infuriates him further. Some things never change.

“That’s real fuckin’ cute, kiddo. Real, real fuckin’ cute. But I need you to listen to me, and I need you to try your best to comprehend me--”

Subconsciously, she had taken steps away from him once her feet were on the ground. Now he grabs her wrist and decreases this distance--and, while he’s at it, twists something the wrong way and pauses his threat briefly long enough to let the snap echo. Her heavy, frantic breathing fills the room until he’s satisfied enough with her response, with her dangling arm, to speak again.

“You know what I was made to do. You know what I’ve already done. If you tell anybody, resistance or whoever the fuck, that the four of us exist--and we exist, by the way, and we-are-thriving--”

She gasps in pain, as if his statement, uttered with such relish, hurts as much as her broken wrist.

“--I will find you. Like I have already done. I will rip your bones out of your skin, and I will stab you to death with them, and I will leave it in Times fuckin’ Square. I’ll take pictures. I’ll show one to Burns. You know what he’ll do? Jack shit, old sport.”

She uses her good hand to shove him, her two good legs to kick at his knees and stomach and groin, all of the sudden beating wildly with both of her arms at any part of his body she can find. She hits him because he allows it. He steps back because he chooses to. The blows don’t make him flinch, or retaliate, or grimace in pain. He smiles like she has smiled. He tousles her tangled hair, for old time’s sake, and leaves her on the kitchen floor exhausted and weeping.

#writing.#the champion's initiative.#fight like david.#body horror tw #abuse tw #no one asked. it's incredibly long. it doesnt make any sense. i wrote it anyways

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